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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ac5f216 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55079 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55079) diff --git a/old/55079-0.txt b/old/55079-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b036f28..0000000 --- a/old/55079-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,4418 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Theodore Maynard - -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/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Theodore Maynard - -Contributor: Gilbert Keith Chesterton - -Release Date: July 9, 2017 [EBook #55079] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif, Bryan Ness 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) - - - - - - - - - - POEMS - - - - - POEMS - - BY - THEODORE MAYNARD - - WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY - G. K. CHESTERTON - - TORONTO - McCLELLAND AND STEWART, LTD. - PUBLISHERS - - _Copyright, 1917, 1918, by Daniel E. Hudson; Copyright, 1917, - 1918, by The Sisters of Mercy; Copyright, 1917, 1919, by The - Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State of New - York._ - - _Copyright, 1919, by_ - FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY - - _All Rights Reserved_ - - PRINTED IN U. S. A. - - - - - TO - - MY WIFE - - - _We two have seen with our own eyes - God’s multitudinous disguise; - Waylaid Him in His voyaging - Among the buttercups of Spring; - In valleys where the lilies shone - More glorious than Solomon - We met a poet passing by, - And learned his lyric--you and I!_ - - _But oh! did kindly Heaven not bless - Our lives with more than loveliness, - When, cast on every sapling-rod, - Was seen the motley of our God; - When having picked our way with craft - Up cliffs to hear Him when He laughed, - We felt, uplifted on the wind, - His folly blown into our mind?_ - - _What doubt can touch us? We have heard - The baby laughter of the Word! - We mingle with solemnity - A Catholic note of revelry - In hypostatic union. - From love’s carved choir-stalls we con - The plain-song of the Breviary - Illumined by hilarity. - For as each cleansing sacrament - To our soul’s comforting was sent - (Through water and oil and wheat and wine, - Bringing to human the divine), - So shall we find on lovers’ lips - The splendour of apocalypse, - And through the body’s five gates come - To all the good of Christendom._ - - _We have no fear that we shall lose - This joyous Gospel of good news, - For our symbolic love has stood - By virtue of its fortitude-- - Knowing a bitter Lenten fast, - Satan discomforted at last, - A bowed back scalding with great scars, - Gethsemane of tears and stars, - A journey of the cross, and ah, - Its part and lot in Golgotha!_ - - _We know--let the marvellous thing be said!-- - Love’s resurrection from the dead ... - For as Magdalen came with cinnamon - And aloes to smear Love’s limbs upon, - But met alone on the Easter grass - Life’s Lord, though she wist not Who He was-- - So we, till He spoke as He spoke to her, - Mistook Him for the gardener._ - -_April 14th, 1918._ - - - - -NOTE - - -This edition of Theodore Maynard’s poems represents the author’s own -selection of such of his published verse as he wishes included in a -permanent collection. With few omissions, it represents the contents of -the three volumes issued in Great Britain under the titles, “_Laughs and -Whifts of Song_,” 1915; “_Drums of Defeat_,” 1917; “_Folly_,” 1918, none -of which has hitherto been published in this country. - - - - -ON THEODORE MAYNARD’S POEMS - - -In the case of any poet who has caught and held our recollection, there -is generally a particular piece of work which remains in our mind, not -as the crown, but as the key. And ever since I saw in _The New Witness_ -some lines called “A Song of Colours,” by Theodore Maynard, they have -remained to me as a sort of simplification, or permanent element, of the -rest of the poet’s writings; and I have felt him especially as a poet of -colour. They are not by any means the best of his lines. They are -direct, as is appropriate to a ballad; and they have none of the fine -whimsicality or the frank humour to be found elsewhere in his work. -Among these others the choice is hard: but I should say that the finest -poetry as such is to be found in the images, and even in the very title, -of “The World’s Miser”: and even more in the poem called “Apocalypse.” -In this latter the poet imagines a new world which shall be supernatural -in the strongest sense of the word; that of being more vivid and -positive than the natural; and not (as it is so often imagined) more -tenuous and void. - - “Or what empurpled blooms to oust the rose - Or what strange grass to glow like angels’ hair!” - -The last line has the touch of the true mystic, which changes a thing -and yet leaves it familiar. True artistic pugnacity, a thing that -generally goes with true artistic pleasure, is well-expressed in the -shrewd lines of the poem printed as a sequel to another poem called “To -a Good Atheist.” The sequel is called “To a Bad Atheist,” with the -charming explanation: “Who wrote what he called a trinity of meek -retorts to the preceding poem, which were not meek, but full of pride -and abominable heresy.” He describes the bad atheist’s mind as -containing nothing but sawdust, sun and sand; which is accurate and -exhaustive. And in so far as poetry appeals to particular temperaments, -I myself find enjoyment expecially in the part of the collection -properly to be called “Laughs”; in the ballads of feasting and -fellowship; and especially in that sublime absolution gravely offered to -the Duke of Norfolk. - -But the sentiment of colour still ran like a thread through the whole -texture; and I think there is hardly a poem that does not repeat it. And -this is important; because the whole of Mr. Maynard’s inspiration is -part of what is the main business of our time: the resurrection of the -Middle Ages. The modern movement, with its Guild Socialism and its -military reaction against the fatalism of the Barbarian, is as certainly -drawing its life from the lost centuries of Catholic Europe, as the -movement more commonly called the Renaissance drew its life from the -lost languages and sculptures of antiquity. And, by a quaint -inconsistency, Hellenists and Neo-Pagans of the school of Mr. Lowes -Dickinson will call us antiquated for gathering the flowers which still -grow on the graves of our mediæval ancestors, while they themselves will -industriously search for the scattered ashes from the more distant pyres -of the Pagans. - -And the visible clue to the Middle Ages is colour. The mediæval man -could paint before he could draw. In the almost startling inspiration -which we call stained glass, he discovered something that is almost more -coloured than colour; something that bears the same relation to mere -colour that golden flame does to golden sand. He did not, like other -artists, try in his pictures to paint the sun; he made the sun paint his -pictures. He mixed the aboriginal light with the paints upon his -palette. And it is this translucent actuality of colour which I feel in -the phraseology of this writer, in a way it is not easy to analyse. We -can only say that when he says-- - - “Among the yellow primroses - He holds His summer palaces” - -we have an impression, which it is the object of all poetry to produce. -It can only be described by saying that a primrose by the river’s brim a -_yellow_ primrose is to him, and it could not possibly be anything more. -And this almost torrid directness and distinctness of tint is again -connected with another quality of the poet and his poetic tradition: -what many would call asceticism alternating with what many would call -buffoonery. The colour conventions of the Middle Ages were copied very -beautifully by the school of Rossetti and Swinburne. But they lost the -exuberance of the Gothic and became a pattern rather than a plan; -chiefly because they were not seriously inspired by any of the -enthusiasms of the Middle Ages. Its decorative repetitions sometimes -became quite dreary and artificial; as in Swinburne’s unfortunate -couplet about the lilies and languors of virtue and the raptures and -roses of vice. A little healthy gardening would have taught Swinburne -that it takes quite as much virtue to grow a rose as to grow a lily. It -might also have taught him that virtue is never languid, whatever else -it may be: and that even lilies are not really languid so long as they -are alive. If such decadents want an image of what it really is that -holds up the heads of lilies or any other growing things, I can refer -them to a couplet in this little volume, which is more beautiful and -more original and means a great deal more-- - - “What wilful trees of any spring - Than your young body are more fair?” - -These lines contain a principle of life and mark the end of a pagan -sterility. They contain the secret, not of gathering rosebuds while we -may, but of growing them when we choose. - - G. K. CHESTERTON. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - LAUGHS AND WHIFTS OF SONG - PAGE - -A SONG OF COLOURS 3 - -CECIDIT, CECIDIT BABYLON MAGNA 5 - -APOCALYPSE 7 - -GHOSTS 9 - -PROCESSIONAL 10 - -A SONG OF LAUGHTER 12 - -BALLADE IN PRAISE OF ARUNDEL 13 - -THE TRAMP 15 - -THE WORLD’S MISER 17 - -EASTER 19 - -THE GLORY OF THE ORIFLAMME 20 - -TO A GOOD ATHEIST 21 - -TO A BAD ATHEIST 23 - -PALM SUNDAY 25 - -WHEN I RIDE INTO THE TOWN 27 - -REQUIEM 29 - -AVE ATQUE VALE 30 - -ALADDIN 31 - -ADAM 32 - -THE ENGLISH SPRING 33 - -AT THE CRIB 35 - -THE MYSTIC 37 - -TO ANY SAINT 39 - -SUNSET ON THE DESERT 40 - - FOLLY - -FOLLY 43 - -THE SHIPS 45 - -LAUGHTER 47 - -VOCATION 49 - -BLINDNESS 50 - -DRINKING SONG 52 - -THREE TRIOLETS 54 - -A NEW CANTERBURY TALE 56 - -IN MEMORIAM F. H. M. 62 - -TO THE IRISH DEAD 63 - -JOHN REDMOND 64 - -BEAUTY 65 - -FAITH’S DIFFICULTY 67 - -CHRISTMAS ON CRUSADE 69 - -THE ASCETIC 71 - -SONNET FOR THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER 75 - -WARFARE 76 - -TREASON 77 - -THERE WAS AN HOUR 78 - -NOCTURNE 79 - -PRIDE 80 - -BALLADE OF SHEEP BELLS 82 - -BALLADE OF A FEROCIOUS CATHOLIC 84 - -DAWN 86 - -SUNSET 87 - -PEACE 88 - -CARRION 89 - -THE BUILDING OF THE CITY 91 - -EDEN RE-OPENED 93 - -THE HOLY SPRING 95 - -VIATICUM 97 - -PUNISHMENT 98 - -AFTER COMMUNION 99 - -THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER 100 - -THE BOASTER 102 - -UNWED 104 - -WED 105 - -ENGLAND 106 - -LYRIC LOVE 108 - - - DRUMS OF DEFEAT - -THE FOOL 113 - -DON QUIXOTE 115 - -IRELAND 118 - -IN MEMORIAM 119 - -MATER DESOLATA 120 - -THE STIRRUP CUP 121 - -THE ENSIGN 122 - -BALLADE OF ORCHARDS 124 - -A GREAT WIND 126 - -BIRTHDAY SONNET 128 - -SILENCE 129 - -AT YELVERTON 130 - -THE JOY OF THE WORLD 132 - -GRATITUDE 135 - -IN DOMO JOHANNIS 139 - -AT WOODCHESTER 140 - -“FOR THEY SHALL POSSESS THE EARTH” 142 - -BALLADE OF THE BEST SONG IN THE WORLD 144 - -TAIL-PIECE 146 - -AVE 147 - -A REPLY 149 - -JOB 151 - -THE SOIL OF SOLACE 153 - -TO THE DEAD 154 - -SPRING, 1916 156 - -THE RETURN 157 - -FULFILMENT 158 - -PROPHECY 159 - -THE SINGER TO HIS LADY 160 - -CERTAINTIES 161 - -FEAR 162 - -CHARITY 163 - -SIGHT AND INSIGHT 164 - -CHRISTMAS CAROL 166 - -A GARDEN ENCLOSED 167 - -THE LOVER 169 - - - - -POEMS - - - - -LAUGHS AND WHIFTS OF SONG - - - - -A SONG OF COLOURS - - - Gold for the crown of Mary, - Blue for the sea and sky, - Green for the woods and meadows - Where small white daisies lie, - And red for the colour of Christ’s blood - When He came to the cross to die. - - These things the high God gave us - And left in the world He made-- - Gold for the hilt’s enrichment, - And blue for the sword’s good blade, - And red for the roses a youth may set - On the white brows of a maid. - - Green for the cool, sweet gardens - Which stretch about the house, - And the delicate new frondage - The winds of Spring arouse, - And red for the wine which a man may drink - With his fellows in carouse. - - Blue and green for the comfort - Of tired hearts and eyes, - And red for that sudden hour which comes - With danger and great emprise, - And white for the honour of God’s throne - When the dead shall all arise. - - Gold for the cope and chalice, - For kingly pomp and pride, - And red for the feathers men wear in their caps - When they win a war or a bride, - And red for the robe which they dressed God in - On the bitter day He died. - - - - -CECIDIT, CECIDIT BABYLON MAGNA! - - - The aimless business of your feet, - Your swinging wheels and piston rods, - The smoke of every sullen street - Have passed away with all your Gods. - - For in a meadow far from these - A hodman treads across the loam, - Bearing his solid sanctities - To that strange altar called his home. - - I watch the tall, sagacious trees - Turn as the monks do, every one; - The saplings, ardent novices, - Turning with them towards the sun, - - That Monstrance held in God’s strong hands, - Burnished in amber and in red; - God, His Own priest, in blessing stands; - The earth, adoring, bows her head. - - The idols of your market place, - Your high debates, where are they now? - Your lawyers’ clamour fades apace-- - A bird is singing on the bough! - - Three fragile, sacramental things - Endure, though all your pomps shall pass-- - A butterfly’s immortal wings, - A daisy and a blade of grass. - - - - -APOCALYPSE - -“And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first -heaven and the first earth were passed away.”--APOC.. xxi, I. - - - Shall summer woods where we have laughed our fill; - Shall all your grass so good to walk upon; - Each field which we have loved, each little hill - Be burnt like paper--as hath said Saint John? - - Then not alone they die! For God hath told - How all His plains of mingled fire and glass, - His walls of hyacinth, His streets of gold, - His aureoles of jewelled light shall pass, - - That He may make us nobler things than these, - And in her royal robes of blazing red - Adorn His bride. Yea, with what mysteries - And might and mirth shall she be diamonded! - - And what new secrets shall our God disclose; - Or set what suns of burnished brass to flare; - Or what empurpled blooms to oust the rose; - Or what strange grass to glow like angels’ hair! - - What pinnacles of silver tracery, - What dizzy rampired towers shall God devise - Of topaz, beryl and chalcedony - To make Heaven pleasant to His children’s eyes! - - And in what cataclysms of flame and foam - Shall the first Heaven sink--as red as sin-- - When God hath Cast aside His ancient home - As far too mean to house His Children in! - - - - -GHOSTS - - - Some dismal nights there are when spirits walk - Who lived and died unhappy in their time, - To waste the air with vows and whispered talk - Of tarnished love or hate or secret crime-- - But now the moon moves splendid through the sky; - The night is brilliant like a silver shield; - And in their cavalcades come riding by - The mighty dead of many a tented field. - On this one night at least of all the year - The lists are set again, the lines are drawn; - Again resounds the clang of horse and spear; - The sweet applause of ladies, till the dawn - Makes glad the souls of vizored knights--then they, - Hearing that seneschal, the cock, all troop away. - - - - -PROCESSIONAL - - - See how the plated gates unfold, - How swing the creaking doors of brass! - With drums and gleaming arms, behold - Christ’s regal cohorts pass! - - Shall Christ not have His chosen men, - Nor lead His crested knights so tall, - Superb upon their horses, when - The world’s last cities fall? - - Ah, no! These few, the maimed, the dumb, - The saints of every lazar’s den, - The earth’s off-scourings--they come - From desert and from fen - - To break the terror of the night, - Black dreams and dreadful mysteries, - And proud, lost empires in their might, - And chains and tyrannies. - - There ride no gold-encinctured kings - Against the potentates of earth; - God chooses all the weakest things, - And gives Himself in birth - With beaten slaves to draw His breath, - And sleeps with foxes on the moor, - With malefactors shares His death, - Tattered and worn and poor. - - See how the plated gates unfold, - How swing the creaking doors of brass! - Victorious in defeat--behold, - Christ and His cohorts pass! - - - - -A SONG OF LAUGHTER - - - The stars with their laughter are shaken; - The long waves laugh at sea; - And the little Imp of Laughter - Laughs in the soul of me. - - I know the guffaw of a tempest, - The mirth of a blossom and bud-- - But I laugh when I think of Cuchulain[A] who laughed - At the Crows with their bills in his blood. - - The mother laughs low at her baby, - The bridegroom with joy in his bride-- - And I think that Christ laughed when they took Him with staves - On the night before He died. - - [A] Pronounced Cuhúlain. - - - - -BALLADE IN PRAISE OF ARUNDEL - -(Made after a walk through Surrey and Sussex.) - - - I’ve trudged along the Pilgrims’ Way, - And from St. Martha’s Hill looked down - O’er Surrey woods and fields which lay - Green in the sunlight. On the crown - Of Hindhead and the Punchbowl’s brink - Of no good thing I’ve been bereaven: - But Arundel’s the place for drink-- - _The pubs keep open till eleven._ - - White chalk-cliffs and the stubborn clay - Are thrown about, and many a town - Breaks on the sight like breaking day; - But after all, who but a clown - Could Arundel with Midhurst link, - Where men go dry from two till seven? - In _Arundel_ (no truth I’ll shrink) - _The pubs keep open till eleven._ - - A great cool church where men can pray - Secure from misbelieving frown; - And in the Square, I beg to say, - The beer is strong and rich and brown. - Some poor, misguided people think - Petworth’s the spot that’s nearest Heaven: - In _Arundel_ the ale-pots clink-- - _The pubs keep open till eleven._ - - - _L’Envoi_ - - Duke, at the dreadful Judgment Day - Your soul will surely be well shriven, - For then all angel trumps shall bray, - _He kept pubs open till eleven!_ - - - - -THE TRAMP - - - My brothers stay in cities - To gather shame and gold, - But I am for the highway - And the wind upon the wold. - - They take the train each morning - To a dull, bricked-up place; - I trudge the living country - With the sunlight on my face. - - I know no home or shelter, - No bed but good green grass, - Nor any friends but hedgerows - To greet me as I pass. - - But though the road still calls me - To places wild and steep, - I find the going heavy; - My eyes are full of sleep. - - The fields lie all about me; - The trees are gay with sap-- - As I go weary, weary - To my great mother’s lap, - - To rest me with my mother, - The kindly earth so brown. - And Lord! But well contented - I’ll lay my carcase down. - - - - -THE WORLD’S MISER - - -I - - A miser with an eager face - Sees that each roseleaf is in place. - - He keeps beneath strong bolts and bars - The piercing beauty of the stars. - - The colours of the dying day - He hoards as treasure--well He may!-- - - And saves with care (lest they be lost) - The dainty diagrams of frost. - - He counts the hairs of every head, - And grieves to see a sparrow dead. - - -II - - Among the yellow primroses - He holds His summer palaces, - - And sets the grass about them all - To guard them as His spearmen small. - - He fixes on each wayside stone - A mark to shew it as His Own, - - And knows when raindrops fall through air - Whether each single one be there, - - That gathered into ponds and brooks - They may become His picture-books, - - To shew in every spot and place - The living glory of His face. - - - - -EASTER - - - Among the gay, exultant trees, - Over the green and growing grass, - Clothed in immortal mysteries, - I see His living body pass. - - The catkins fling abroad His name, - While birds from every bush and spray - Strain feathered necks, and tipped with flame - The hills all stand to greet His day. - - Each violet and bluebell curled - Wakes with the dead Christ’s waking eye, - And like burst gravestones clouds are hurled - Across the wide and waiting sky. - - And drenched, for very height of mirth, - With clean white tears of April rain, - Like Mary Magdalene the earth - Finds April’s risen Lord again. - - - - -THE GLORY OF THE ORIFLAMME - - - The glory of the Oriflamme, - Or strange, red flowers of the South - Hold no such splendours as lie hid - In your sweet mouth! - - The secret honey of the Cliff, - The lure and laughter of the sea - Are not the dear delight that is - Your face to me! - - What wilful trees of any spring - Than your young body are more fair? - What glamour of forgotten gold - Lurks in your hair? - - The glory of the Oriflamme, - Or strange, red flowers of the South - Hold no such splendours as lie hid - In your sweet mouth! - - - - -TO A GOOD ATHEIST - - - That you can keep your crested courage high, - And hopeless hope without a cause, and wage - Christ’s warfare, lacking all the panoply - Of Faith which shall endure the end of age, - - You must be made of finely tempered stuff, - And have a kinship with that Spanish saint, - Who wrote of his soul’s night--it was enough - That he should drag his footsteps tired and faint - - Along his God-appointed pathway. You - Have stood against our day of bitter scorn, - When loudly its triumphant trumpets blew - Contempt of all God’s poor. Had you been born - - But in the time of Jeanne or Catharine, - Whose charity was as a sword of flame, - With those who drank up martyrdom like wine - Had stood your aureoled and ringing name. - - Yet, when that secret day of God shall break - With strange and splendid justice through the skies, - When last are first, then star-ward you shall take - The praise and sorrow of your starry eyes. - - - - -TO A BAD ATHEIST - - NIND - _who wrote what he called a trinity of meek retorts to the preceding - poem, which were not meek, but full of pride and - abominable heresy._ - - - You do not love the shadows on the wall, - Or mists that flee before a blowing wind, - Or Gothic forests, or light aspen leaves, - Or skies that melt into a dreamy sea. - In the hot, glaring noontide of your mind - (I have your word for it) there is no room - For anything save sawdust, sun and sand. - - No monkish flourishes will do for you; - Your life must be set down in black and white. - The quiet half-light of the abbey close, - The cunning carvings of a chantry tomb, - The leaden windows pricked with golden saints-- - All these are nothing to your ragtime soul! - - Yet, since you are a solemn little chap, - In spite of all your blasphemy and booze, - That dreadful sword of satire which you shake - Hurts no hide but your own,--you cannot use - A weapon which is bigger than yourself. - - Yet some there were who rode all clad in mail,-- - With crosses blazoned on their mighty shields, - Roland who blew his horn against the Moor, - Richard who charged for Christ at Ascalon, - Louis a pilgrim with his chivalry, - And Blessed Jeanne who saved the crown of France-- - Pah! you may keep your whining Superman! - - - - -PALM SUNDAY - - - The grey hairs of Caiaphas - Shall know the truth to-day, - For kingly, riding on an ass, - The Truth has come his way. - - (_A thornbush grows upon the hill, - And Golgotha is empty still!_) - - Caiaphas waxes eloquent - On tittle and on jot, - But when they cry “Hosanna!” - Caiaphas answers not. - - (_A thornbush grows upon the hill, - And Golgotha is empty still!_) - - In the temple of Caiaphas - Stand two gold seraphim-- - They do not worship Christ nor shout - As the grey stones shout for Him. - - (_A thornbush grows upon the hill, - And Golgotha is empty still!_) - - The vestments of Caiaphas - With gold and silver shone-- - They would get soiled if he cast them down - For the ass to walk upon. - - (_A thornbush grows upon the hill, - And Golgotha is empty still!_) - - The religion of Caiaphas - Is very spick and span, - It does not love the ill-bred mob, - The homespun Son of Man! - - (_A thornbush grows upon the hill, - And Golgotha is empty still!_) - - The dark soul of Caiaphas - Is full of sin and pride; - It does not know the splendour - Or the triumph of that ride! - - (_A thornbush grows upon the hill, - And Golgotha is empty still!_) - - - - -WHEN I RIDE INTO THE TOWN - - - When I go riding into the town, - When I ride into the town, - I fill my skin at the nearest inn - When I ride into the town. - Oh, what is there then to trouble about? - There are no such things as despair and doubt-- - For when ale goes in the truth comes out, - When I ride into the town! - - When I go riding out of the town, - When I ride out of the town, - I have my men behind me then - When I ride out of the town; - Halberd, battle-axe, culverin, bow, - Four hundred strong as out we go, - Four hundred yeomen to meet the foe, - When I ride out of the town! - - When I ride into the Town of Death-- - That strange and unknown town!-- - It will not be all _cap-à-pie_, - But with sword and lance laid down. - Then may our Lady beside me stand; - Saint Michael guard at my good right hand-- - God rest my soul and the souls of my band, - When we ride into the Town! - - - - -REQUIEM - - - When my last song is sung and I am dead - And laid away beneath the kindly clay, - Set a square stone above my dreamless head, - And sign me with the cross and signing say: - “Here lieth one who loved the steadfast things - Of his own land, its gladness and its grace, - The stubbled fields, the linnets’ gleaming wings, - The long, low gables of his native place, - Its gravelled paths, and the strong wind that rends - The boughs about the house, the hearth’s red glow, - The surly, slow good-fellowship of friends, - The humour of the men he used to know, - And all their swinging choruses and mirth”-- - Then turn aside and leave my dust in earth. - - - - -AVE ATQUE VALE! - - - My friends, I may no longer ride with you - To bear a sword in your brave company, - Or follow our poor tattered flag which knew - No shame or slur--or any victory. - - But this at least, with courage and with mirth - We starveling poets and enthusiasts - Have shirked no battle for the stricken earth - Against its tyrants’ spears and arbalests. - - And though I go to guard another sign, - These things, please God, shall stand and never slip-- - (O friends of mine, O splendid friends of mine!) - Honour and Freedom and Goodfellowship, - On which and on your ragged chivalry - I always think with proud humility. - - - - -ALADDIN - - - Though worlds all melt away in mist, - The Heavens’ slender filament, - The orange and the amethyst, - Are left me--and I am content! - - I stand serene amid the shocks, - Upheavals, cataclysmic dust, - The binding fires, the falling rocks, - The withering of life and lust. - - This little burnished lamp I hold - Has shattered the eternities; - The glamour of all unknown gold, - The ancient puissance of the seas, - - The sunlight and the love of God - Are Cast in chains beneath my feet-- - For at my first behest this sod - Becomes a cosmos, new, complete, - - Instinct with unimagined power, - In colour radiant pole to pole, - The sudden glory of an hour, - The epic moment of my soul! - - - - -ADAM - - - I saw a red sky boding woe, - The gleam of an eternal sword, - And heard the voice that bid me go - From the green garden of the Lord. - - I knew the prick of Destiny, - The scorn of the relentless stars; - The very grass looked down on me-- - The first of all the Avatars! - - Each flower seemed to see my shame; - Each bird as though insulted flew - Before my hateful face--my name - Was blown about the whole world through! - - Even my house with its red roof, - Dear as it is, looks strange and odd; - My garden beds are more aloof - From me than is my angry God! - - - - -THE ENGLISH SPRING - - - I love each inch of English earth; - I love each stone upon the way-- - Whether in Winter’s sullen dearth, - When the soil is trodden into clay-- - In Autumn ripeness, or the mirth - Of a Summer’s day. - - Something peculiar to our land - Is hid in even the greyest sky, - When stiff and stark the tall trees stand - And the wind is high. - - But this one season of our year - Is so peculiarly an English thing, - When the woolly catkins first appear, - And yellow burgeoning - Upon the little coppice here-- - This native Spring - - Which comes to us so suddenly, - Blown over the hills from the fruitful South; - Full of the laughter of the laughing sea - She comes with singing mouth. - - The cool, sweet Wiltshire meadows lie - With buttercups from end to end; - In secret woods are small blooms, shy - Bluebells the good gods send. - There is no cloud that wanders by - But is my friend. - - And now the gorse is gold again; - The violet hides beneath the leaves; - And quickened by thin April rain - The debonair young sapling weaves - His coat of lightest green; again - Birds chirp at the eaves. - - Each hidden brook and waterfall, - Each tiny daisy in the sun - Calls to my heart--the hedgerows all - So full of twigs, they call, each one; - And with insistent voices call - The roads where the wild flowers run. - - O set with grass and the English hedge - Are the long, white roads which wind and wind-- - Roads which reach to the world’s edge, - Where the world is left behind. - - - - -AT THE CRIB - - - Again the royalties are shed, - Disdiademed the kingly head, - He lies again--ah, very small!-- - Among the cattle in the stall, - Or in His slender mother’s arms - Is snuggled up from baby harms. - - The Tower of Ivory leans down - From Paradise’s topmost crown; - The House of Gold on earth takes root; - From Jesse comes a saving shoot, - For Mary gives (O manifold - Her courtesies!) that we may hold - Our little Lord’s poor fragile hands - And feet, the guerdon of all lands. - - No fool need fail to enter in - The guarded Heaven we strive to win, - Or miss upon a casual street - The fiery impress of His feet, - But touch with every stone and sod - The extended fingers of our God, - And see in twigs of the stiff hedgerows, - Or in the woods where quiet grows - Among the naked Winter trees, - A thousand times these mysteries: - The branching arms with Christly fruit, - The thorns which bruise His head and foot. - - No more with silver shrilly blown - He treads a conqueror, but, flown - With swift and silent whitening wings, - He comes enwrapped in baby things. - Our God adventures everywhere - Beneath the cool and Christmas air, - And setteth still His candid star - Where Mary and her baby are! - - - - -THE MYSTIC - - - When all my long and weary work is done - (Toiling both soon and late, by candle-light, - Sewing and sewing while my eyes can see) - I lay my glasses by and watch the walls-- - The plaster off in patches, stained with smoke-- - Melt as a hoary mist and flee away. - Then through the splendour of the evening skies, - Along its star-lit paths, past pearl-white clouds - I hasten till I reach the region where - God’s holy city like a virgin keeps - Its spotless tryst, forever night and day. - I do not linger here, but take my way - To Him who sits among the Seraphim; - And He who knows I am a poor old wife, - With naught of wit or wealth that I can bring, - And that my hands are hardened by my toil-- - Sees that ’tis I that need Him most of all. - Yea, God will have the music hushed (for I - Am growing somewhat deaf) and we will talk - Of many things, as friend may talk with friend. - - Ah, I have looked, and in the dear Lord’s face - (More lined with care than any earthly man’s) - Seen that He suffers too, and understands - How hard and late I work to keep the wolf - Outside my door, and bring my children up - To serve Him always, and to keep them clean - In body, heart and mind.... - - At the sun’s call, - Working with all my strength from early dawn, - Through the long day, and then by candle-light - Sewing on buttons while my eyes can see, - I know the glory of God’s gracious face, - And at His touch my weary hands grow strong, - Hearing His voice my heart is glad and gay. - - - - -TO ANY SAINT - - - Before the choirs of angels burst to song, - In night and loneliness your way you trod-- - O valiant heart, O weary feet and strong, - There are no easy by-paths unto God. - - Darkness there was, thick darkness all around; - Nor spoken word, nor hand to touch you knew, - But One who walked the self-same stony ground - And shared your dereliction there with you. - - O valiant heart! O fixed, undaunted will! - While all the heavens hung like brass above, - You faltered not, but steadfast journeyed still - Upon the road of sainthood to your Love. - - And was not it reward exceeding great - To kiss at last with passionate lips His side, - His hands, His feet? O pomp! O regal state! - O crown of life He gives unto His bride! - - Lovers there are with roses chapleted, - But more than theirs is your Lord’s loveliness; - Your Love is crowned with thorns upon His head, - And pain and sorrow woven is His dress. - - - - -SUNSET ON THE DESERT - - - As some priest turns, his ritual all done, - And stretching hands above the kneeling crowd, - Who rapt and silent, wait with heads all bowed - For the last holy words of benison-- - “Now God be with thee, ever Three in One”-- - So turns the sun, though all reluctantly. - One thrilling moment comes to shrub and tree; - Expectant stillness falls; then dark and dun - - The silhouettes of sphinx and pyramid - Gaze at the last deep amber after-glow; - The little stars peep down between the palms; - And all the ghosts that garish daylight hid - Are quickened--Isis with the breasts of snow - And Antony with Egypt in his arms. - - - - -FOLLY - - - - -FOLLY - - - Shall I not wear my motley - And flaunt my bladder of green - Before the earls and the bishops - And the laughing king and queen; - Though hunger is in my belly - And jests my lips between? - - Men listen a moment idly - To the foolishness I sing-- - But my words are sharp and bitter - In savour and in sting, - And harder than mail in battle - Where the heavy maces swing. - - For full of the sap of folly - Grow the branches of the Creed, - The fine adventurous folly - God gave us in our need, - When He yielded up to scornful death - The human brows that bleed. - - They nailed the son of Mary - On a gibbet straight and tall; - But the eagles of the Roman - Were struck in Cæsar’s hall, - And the veil of the Holy of Holies - Was rent in the temple wall. - - Wiser than sage or prophet, - Or the pedant of the school, - Than lord or abbot or priest or prince - Who over the nations rule, - Are the cap and bells and the motley - And the laughter of the fool! - -_February 12th, 1918._ - - - - -THE SHIPS - - - The bending sails shall whiten on the sea, - Guided by hands and eyes made glad for home, - With graven gems and cedar and ebony - From Babylon and Rome. - - For here a lover cometh as to his bride, - And there a merchant to his utmost price-- - Oh, hearts will leap to see the good ships ride - Safely to Paradise! - - And this that cuts the waves with brazen prow - Hath heard the blizzard groaning through her spars; - Battered with honour swings she nobly now - Back from her bitter wars. - - And that doth bring her silver work and spice, - Peacocks and apes from Tarshish, and from Tyre - Great cloaks of velvet stiff with gold device, - Coloured with sunset fire.... - - And one, serenely through the golden gate, - Shall sail and anchor by the ultimate shore, - Who, plundered of her gold by pirate Fate, - Still keeps her richer store - - Unrifled when her perilous journey ends - And the strong cable holds her safe again: - Laughter and memories and the songs of friends - And the sword edge of pain. - -_June 1917._ - - - - -LAUGHTER - - - Oh, not a poet lives but knows - The laughing beauty of the rose, - The heyday humour of the noon, - The solemn smiling of the moon,-- - When night, as happy as a lover, - Doth kiss and kiss the earth, and cover - His face with all her tender hair. - - Sweet bride and bridegroom everywhere, - And mothers, who so softly sing - Upon their babies’ slumbering, - Know joy upon their lips, and laughter - At Joy’s heels that comes tumbling after. - - But who shall shake his sides to hear - That sacred laughter, fraught with fear, - That laughter strange and mystical-- - The hero laughing in his fall; - Whene’er a man goes out alone, - Is thrown and is not overthrown? - - The fates shall never bow the head - That irony hath comforted, - Nor thrust him down with shameful scars - Who towers above the reeling stars. - - Thus God, Who shaketh roof and rafter - Of highest heaven with holy laughter; - Who made fantastic, foolish trees - Shadow the floors of tropic seas, - Where finny gargoyles, goggle-eyed, - Grin monstrously beneath the tide; - Who made for some titanic joke - Out of the acorn grow the oak; - From buried seed and riven rocks, - Brings death and life--a paradox! - Who breaks great Kingdoms, and their Kings, - Upon the knees of helpless things.... - So flesh the Word was made Who gave - His body to a human grave, - While devils gnashed their teeth at loss - To see Him triumph on the cross.... - - Thus God, Who shaketh roof and rafter - Of highest heaven with holy laughter! - -_October 14th, 1917._ - - - - -VOCATION - - - Though God has put me in the world to praise - Each beetle’s burnished wing, each blade of grass, - To track the manifold and marvellous ways - Whereon His bright creative footsteps pass; - - To glory in the poplars’ summer green, - To guard the sunset’s glittering hoard of gold, - To gladden when the fallen leaves careen - On fairy keels upon the windy wold. - - For this, for this, my eager mornings broke, - For this came sunshine and the lonely rain, - For this the stiff and sleepy woods awoke - And every hawthorn hedge along the lane. - - For this God gave me all my joy of verse - That I might shout beneath exultant skies, - And meet, as one delivered from a curse, - The pardon and the pity in your eyes. - - - - -BLINDNESS - - - Open the casement! From my room, - Perched high upon this dizzy spire, - My blinded eyes behold the bloom - Of gardens in their golden fire. - - Oh deep, mysterious recompense-- - Time static to my ardent gaze! - No longer mortal veils of sense - Conceal the blissful ray of rays! - - Fantastic forests toss their heads - For my immortal youth; on grass - Brighter than jewels do the reds - Of riotous summer roses pass. - - I traffic in abysmal seas, - And dive for pearls and coloured shells, - Where, over seaweeds tall as trees, - The waters boom like tenor bells; - - Where bearded goblin-fish and sharks, - With fins as large as eagles’ wings, - Throw phosphorescent trails of sparks - Which glitter on drowned Spaniards’ rings. - - From star to star I pilgrimage, - Undaunted in ethereal space; - And laugh because the sun in rage - Shoots harmless arrows at my face. - - For even if the skies should flare - In God’s last catastrophic blaze, - My happy, blinded eyes would stare - Only upon the ray of rays. - -_January 20th, 1918._ - - - - -DRINKING SONG - - - When Horace wrote his noble verse, - His brilliant, glowing line, - He must have gone to bed the worse - For good Falernian wine. - No poet yet could praise the rose - In verse that so serenely flows - Unless he dipped his Roman nose - In good Falernian wine. - - _Shakespeare and Jonson too_ - _Drank deep of barley brew--_ - _Drank deep of barley brew, my boys,_ - _Drank deep of barley brew!_ - - When Alexander led his men - Against the Persian King, - He broached a hundred hogsheads, then - They drank like anything. - They drank by day, they drank by night, - And when they marshalled for the fight - Each put a score of foes to flight-- - They drank like anything! - - _No warrior worth his salt_ - _But quaffs the mighty malt--_ - _But quaffs the mighty malt, my boys,_ - _But quaffs the mighty malt!_ - - When Patrick into Ireland went - The works of God to do, - It was his excellent intent - To teach men how to brew. - The holy saint had in his train - A man of splendid heart and brain-- - A brewer was this worthy swain-- - To teach men how to brew. - - _The snakes he drove away_ - _Were teetotallers they say--_ - _Teetotallers they say, my boys,_ - _Teetotallers they say!_ - -_September 30th, 1917._ - - - - -THREE TRIOLETS - - -I - -OF AN IMPROBABLE STORY - - I heard a story from an oak - As I was walking in the wood-- - I, of the stupid human-folk, - I heard a story from an oak. - Though larches into laughter broke - I hardly think I understood. - I heard a story from an oak - As I was walking in the wood. - - -II - -OF DEPLORABLE SENTIMENTS - - I wouldn’t sell my noble thirst - For half-a-dozen bags of gold; - I’d like to drink until I burst. - I wouldn’t sell my noble thirst - For lucre filthy and accurst-- - Such treasures _can’t_ be bought and sold! - I wouldn’t sell my noble thirst - For half-a-dozen bags of gold. - - -III - -OF LOVE AND LAUGHTER - - You scattered joy about my way - And filled my lips with love and laughter - In white and yellow fields of May - You scattered joy about my way. - Though Winter come with skies of grey - And grisly death come stalking after, - You scattered joy about my way - And filled my lips with love and laughter. - - - - -A NEW CANTERBURY TALE - - - In Italie a mony yeer ago - There lived a little childë Catharine, - With yongë, merrie hertë clere as snow. - From hir first youthful hour she did entwyne - Roses both whyt and reed--Godis columbine - She was. And for hir holy gaiety - Was by hir neighbours clept Euphrosyne. - - Ech stepp she took upon hir fadirs staires, - Kneeling she did an Ave Mary say; - With ful devocioun she seid hir prayers - Ere that she wentë forth ech day to play; - Our Blessid Queen was in hir thought alway-- - Our Modir Mary whose humility - Hath raiséd hir to hevinës magesté. - - When only sevin was this childës age - She vowed hirself to sweet virginity, - Forsweering eny erthly marriáge, - That she the clenë bride of Crist schuld be, - Who on the heavy cross ful cruelly - The Jewës nailéd, hevin to open wide-- - Crist for hir husëbond, she Cristës bride. - - Swich was the litle innocentes intent, - Hirself unspotted from the world to kepe, - Al hidden in hir fadirs hous she went. - Whether in waking or in purë sleep - She builded hir a closë cellë deep-- - Where Lordë Cristë colde walk with hir, - And hold alway His sweetë convers there. - - So ful she was of gentil charity, - She diddë tend upon the sick ech day; - To beggars in their grete necessity - She gave hir cloke and petticoat away; - To no poor wightë did she sayë nay-- - And when reprovéd merrily she spoke, - “God loveth Charity more than my cloke.” - - An oldë widow lay al striken sore - With leprosé, that dreed and foul disease; - And to hir (filléd to the hertë core - With love of God) that she schuld bring hir ease - Did Catharine come, nor did hit hir displese - That she schuld wash the woundës tenderly, - And bind hem up for Goddës charity. - - And though the pacient waxéd querulous, - The blessid seintë wearied neer a whit, - For hir upbrading tong so slanderous, - Nor even when upon hir handës lit - The leprosé corrupt and foul--for hit - Is nothing to the shamë Goddë bore - When nailes and speares His smoothë flesch y-tore. - - But now behold a woundrous miracle! - For al that Seintë Catharine colde do, - Hir pacient died and was y-carried wel - Unto hir gravë by stout men and true. - When they upon hir corse the cloddës threw, - Then new as eny childës gan to shine - The shrivvelled handes of holy Catharine! - - There livéd there a youth clept Nicholas, - Who made in that citee seditioun, - Causing a gretë riot in that place, - So that the magistratës of the toun - Hent him and cast him in a strong prisoun; - And thilkë wightë they anon did try, - And for his sin condemnéd him to die. - - And Catharine y-waxéd piteous - To see him brought unto this sorry case, - And went to him unto the prisoun hous - To move his soul to Jhesu Cristës grace. - So yong he was and fresh and faire of face, - Hir hertë movéd was as to a son, - And he by hir sweet, gracious wordes was won. - - That for his deth he made a good accord, - And was y-shriven wel of his assoyl, - And with a humble soul received our Lord - From the prestes hands. His hertë that did boil - But little whyles ago--was freed from toil, - And fixéd on our Lordës precious blood, - Which for our sak He spilléd on the rood. - - And when he came to executioun, - No feer had he nor eny bitter care, - But walked among the guardës thurgh the toun - In joy so hye as if he trod on air. - Seint Catharine she was y-waiting there - To cheer his soul against the dreedful end, - When unto God his soul at last most wend. - - And there thilke holy virgin welcomed him; - “Come, Nicholas,” she said, “my sonnë deere. - The boul of glorious life is at the brim-- - Come, Nicholas--your nuptials are neer; - The bridegroom calleth, be you of good cheer.” - And whyl they madë redy, on hir brest - She kept the hed of Nicholas at rest. - - And when that al in ordre had been set, - She stretchéd out his nekkë tenderly, - “This day your soulës bridegroom shal be met. - Hark! how He calleth, sweet and winsomely.” - And Nicholas spak to hir ful of glee-- - “Jhesu” and “Catharine” the wordes he seid; - Then fel the ax and severed off his hed. - - And even as his bloody hed did fall, - She caught hit in her lap and handës faire, - Nor reckéd that the blood was over al - Hir robës, but she kissed hit sitting there, - And smoothéd doun the rough and ragged hair. - God wot that gretë peace was in hir herte - That Nicholas in hevin had found his part. - - O holy Catharine, pray for us then, - Be to our soules a modir and a frend; - We are poor wandering and sinful men, - And al unstable through the world we wend. - Pray for us, Catharine, unto the end, - That filléd with thy gretë charity - In Goddës love we schuldë live and die. - - - - -IN MEMORIAM F. H. M. - -KILLED IN ACTION, APRIL 9TH, 1917 - - - Though now we see, as through the battle smoke, - The image of your young uplifted face - Surprised by death, and broken as it broke - The hearts of those who loved your eager grace, - Your noble air and magnanimity-- - A summer perfect in its flowers and leaves, - Brave promises of fruitfulness to be, - Which now no hand may bind in goodly sheaves-- - No hand but God’s.... Yet your remembered ways, - Your eyes alight with gentleness and mirth, - The lovely honour of your shortened days, - A new grave gladness on the furrowed earth - Shall sow for us, a new pride wide and deep-- - And we shall see the corn--and reap, and reap. - - - - -TO THE IRISH DEAD - - - You who have died as royally as kings, - Have seen with eyes ablaze with beauty, eyes - Nor gold nor ease nor comfort could make wise, - The glory of imperishable things. - - Despite your shame and loneliness and loss-- - Your broken hopes, the hopes that shall not cease, - Endure in dreams as terrible as peace; - Your naked folly nailed upon the cross - - Has given us more than bread unto our dearth - And more than water to our aching drouth; - Though death has been as wormwood in your mouth - Your blood shall fructify the barren earth. - -_August 11th, 1917._ - - - - -JOHN REDMOND - - - Shall it be told in tragic song and story - Of two who went embittered all their days, - Two lovely Queens divided in their ways - Until their hearts grew hard, their tresses hoary? - Or shall the flying wings of oratory - Of him who bore a great hope on his face - Bring from the grave reunion to the grace - That men call Ireland and to England’s glory? - - Courageous soul, not yet the work is ended: - The perfect pact you never lived to see, - The peace between the warring sisters mended - Must of your patient labours come to be, - When in a noise of trumpets loud and splendid - The Gael hears blown the name of liberty. - -_March 8th, 1918._ - - - - -BEAUTY - - -I - -(_RELATIVE_) - - How many are the forms that beauty shows; - To what dim shrines of sweet, forgotten art - She calls; on what wide seas her strong wind blows - The proud and perilous passion of the heart! - - How many are the forms of her decay; - The blood that stains the dying of the sun, - The love and loveliness that pass away - Like roses’ petals scattered one by one. - - But there shall issue through the ivory gate, - Amid a mist of dreams, one dream-come-true, - Beauty immortal, mighty of estate, - The beauty that a poet loved in you; - The goodness God has set as aureole - Upon the naked meekness of your soul. - -_July 22nd, 1917._ - - - - -BEAUTY - - -II - -(_ABSOLUTE_) - - Who shall take Beauty in her citadel? - Her gates will splinter not to battering days; - Her slender spires can bear the onslaught well. - Shall any track her through her secret ways - To snare the pinions of the golden bird? - A feather falling through the jewelled air, - Only the echo of a lovely word-- - Nowhere her being is, and everywhere. - - But one may come at last through many woes - And pain and hunger to his resting place, - The watered garden of the Mystic Rose, - The contemplation of the Bruisèd Face-- - The quest of all his wild, adventurous pride; - And, seeing Beauty, shall be satisfied. - -_July 29th, 1917._ - - - - -FAITH’S DIFFICULTY - - - Not these appal - The soul tip-toeing to belief: - The ribald call, - The last black anguish of the thief; - - The fellowship - Of publican and Pharisee, - The harlot’s lip - Passionate with humility; - - Or the feet kissed - By her who was the Magdalen-- - The sensualist - Is one among a world of men! - - Oh, I can look - Upon another’s drama; read - As in a book - Things unrelated to my need; - - Give faith’s assent - To that abysmal love outpoured-- - But why was rent - Thy seamless coat for _me_, dear Lord? - - Why didst Thou bow - Thy bleeding brows for _my_ heart’s good? - How shall I now - Reach to the mystic hardihood - - Where I can take - For personal treasure all Thy loss, - When for my sake, - My sake, Thou didst endure the cross? - - For my soul’s worth - Was “It is finished!” loudly cried? - For me the birth, - The sorrows of the Crucified? - -_February 16th, 1918._ - - - - -CHRISTMAS ON CRUSADE - - - Here shall we bivouac beneath the stars; - Gather the remnant of our chivalry - About the crackling fires, and nurse our scars, - And speak no more as fools must, bitterly. - - The roads familiar to His feet we trod; - We saw the lonely hills whereon He wept, - Prayed, agonised--dear God of very God!-- - And watched the whole world while the whole world slept. - - We speak no more in anger; Christian men - Our armies rolled upon you, wave and wave: - But crooked words and swords, O Saracen, - Can only hold what they have given--a grave! - - We know Him, know that gibbet whence was torn - The pardon that a felon spoke on sin: - There is more life in His dead crown of thorn - Than in your sweeping horsemen, Saladin! - - We speak no more in anger, we will ride - Homeless to our own homes. His bruised head - Had never resting place. Each Christmas-tide - Blossoms the thorn and we are comforted. - - Yea, of the sacred cradle of our creed - We are despoiled; the kindly tavern door - Is shut against us in our utmost need-- - We know the awful patience of the poor. - - We speak no more in anger, for we share - His homelessness. We will forget your scorn. - The bells are ringing in the Christmas air; - God homeless in our homeless homes is born. - - - - -THE ASCETIC - - - A wild wind blows from out the angry sky - And all the clouds are tossed like thistle-down - Above the groaning branches of the trees; - For on this steel-cold night the earth is stirred - To shake away its rottenness; the leaves - Are shed like secret unremembered sins - In the great scourge of the great love of God.... - - Ere I was learned in the ways of love - I looked for it in green and pleasant lands, - In apple orchards and the poppy fields, - And peered among the silences of woods, - And meditated the shy notes of birds - But found it not. - - Oh, many a goodly joy - Of grace and gentle beauty came to me - On many a clear and cleansing night of stars. - But when I sat among my happy friends - (Singing their songs and drinking of their ale, - Warming my limbs before their kindly hearth) - My loneliness would seize me like a pain, - A hunger strong and alien as death. - - No comfort stays with such a man as I, - No resting place amid the dew and dusk, - Whose head is filled with perilous enterprise - The endless quest of my wild fruitless love. - - But these can tell how they have heard His voice, - Have seen His face in pure untroubled sleep, - Or when the twilight gathered on the hills - Or when the moon shone out beyond the sea! - - Have _I_ not seen them? Yet I pilgrimage - In desolation seeking after peace, - Learning how hard a thing it is to love. - There is a love that men find easily, - Familiar as the latch upon the door, - Dear as the curling smoke above the thatch-- - But I have loved unto the uttermost - And know love in the desperate abyss, - In dereliction and in blasphemy! - And fly from God to find him, fill my eyes - With road-dust and with tears and starry hopes, - Ere I may search out Love unsearchable, - Eternal Truth and Goodness infinite, - And the ineffable Beauty that is God. - - Empty of scorn and ceasing not to praise - The meanest stick and stone upon the earth, - I strive unto the stark Reality, - The Absolute grasped roundly in my hands. - Bitter and pitiless it is to love, - To feel the darkness gather round the soul, - Love’s abnegation for the sake of love, - To see my Templed symbols’ slow decay - Become of every ravenous weed the food, - Where bats beat hideous wings about the arch - And ruined roof, where ghosts of tragic kings - And sleek ecclesiastics come and go - Upon the shattered pavements of my creed. - - Yet Mercy at the last shall lead me in, - The Bride immaculate and mystical - Tenderly guide my wayward feet to peace, - And show me love the likeness of a Man, - The Slave obedient unto death, the Lamb - Slain from the first foundations of the world, - The Word made flesh, the tender new-born Child - That is the end of all my heart’s desire. - - Then shall my spirit, naked of its hopes, - Stripped of its love unto the very bone, - Sink simply into Love’s embrace and be - Made consummate of all its burning bliss. - -_August 26th, 1917._ - - - - -SONNET FOR THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER - - - If I had ridden horses in the lists, - Fought wars, gone pilgrimage to fabled lands, - Seen Pharaoh’s drinking cups of amethysts, - Held dead Queens’ secret jewels in my hands-- - I would have laid my triumphs at your feet, - And worn with no ignoble pride my scars.... - But I can only offer you, my sweet, - The songs I made on many a night of stars. - - Yet have I worshipped honour, loving you; - Your graciousness and gentle courtesy, - With ringing and romantic trumpets blew - A mighty music through the heart of me,-- - A joy as cleansing as the wind that fills - The open spaces on the sunny hills. - - - - -WARFARE - - - When I consider all thy dignity, - Thy honour which my baseness doth accuse - To my own soul, thy pride which doth refuse - Less than the suffering thou hast given me, - My hope is chilled to fear. How stealthily - Must I dispose my forces! With what ruse - And ambush snatch the bearer of good news, - Ere I can escalade austerity! - - Easier it were to fling the baleful lord - And the infernal legions of the Pit, - To ride undaunted at that roaring horde: - But who shall armour me with delicate wit - Sufficient for thine overthrow? What sword - Win to the tower where thy perfections sit? - -_March 10th, 1918._ - - - - -TREASON - - - Thou hast renounced thy proud and royal state; - Deserted thy strong men-at-arms who stand - Attentive to imperious command; - And with a small key at the groaning gate-- - Sweet traitress!--met thine enemy. The great - Moon threw a white enchantment o’er the land - When in my hand I caught thy yielded hand, - And laughing kissed thy laughing lips elate. - - For of thy queenly folly thou hast laid - In sandalwood thy stiff, embroidered gown; - With happiness apparelled thou hast strayed - _Incognita_ through many a sunlit town, - Heedless of our uncaptained hosts arrayed - Or of the flags their battles shall bring down. - -_March 17th, 1918._ - - - - -THERE WAS AN HOUR - - - There was an hour when stars flung out - A magical wild melody, - When all the woods became alive - With elfin dance and revelry. - - A holiday for happy hearts!-- - The trees shone silver in the moon, - And clapped their gleaming hands to see - Night like a radiant kindled noon! - - For suddenly a new world woke - At one new touch of wizardry, - When my love from her mirthful mouth - Spoke words of sweet true love to me. - -_February 9th, 1918._ - - - - -NOCTURNE - - - When evening hangs her lamp above the hill - And calls her children to her waiting hearth, - Where pain is shed away and love and wrath, - And every tired head lies white and still-- - - Dear heart, will you not light a lamp for me, - And gather up the meaning of the lands, - Silent and luminous within your hands, - Where peace abides and mirth and mystery? - - That I may sit with you beside the fire, - And ponder on the thing no man may guess, - Your soul’s great majesty and gentleness, - Until the last sad tongue of flame expire. - -_December 21st, 1916._ - - - - -PRIDE - - - Who having known through night a great star falling - With half the host of heaven in its wake, - And o’er chaotic seas a dread voice calling, - And a new purple dawn of presage break, - - Can hope to conquer thee, proud Son of Morning, - Arrayed in mighty lusts of heart and eyes, - With blood-red rubies set for thine adorning - And sorceries wherein men’s souls grow wise? - - Who shall withstand the onslaught of thy chariot, - Who ride to battle with thy gorgeous kings? - Dost thou not count the silver to Iscariot, - And Tyrian scarlet and the marvellous rings? - - But ivory limbs and the flung festal roses, - The maddening music and the Chian wine, - Are overpast when one glad heart discloses - A pride more strange and terrible than thine! - - That looked unsatisfied upon thy splendour, - And turned, all shaken with his love, away - To one dear face that holds him true and tender - Until the trumpets of the Judgment Day. - - A pride that binds him till the last fierce ember - Shall fade from pride’s tall roaring pyre in hell; - The gentleness and grace he shall remember, - The flower she gave, the love that she did tell. - - - - -BALLADE OF SHEEP BELLS - - - I left behind the green and gracious weald, - And climbing stiffly up the steep incline - Found high above each little cloistered field, - Above the sombre autumn woods of pine-- - Where gentle skies are clear and crystalline-- - The place remote from dense and foolish towns; - And there, where all the winds are sharp with brine, - _I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs_. - - The sun hung out of heaven like a shield - Emblazoned o’er with heraldry divine. - I suddenly saw, as though with eyes unsealed, - A portent sent me for an awful sign, - A fairy sea whereon the cold stars shine; - And standing on the sward of withered browns, - Burnt by the noontide and cropped close and fine, - _I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs_. - - A carillon of delicate music pealed - And tingled through the steeple of my spine; - My soul was filled with loveliness and healed. - I know how joy and anguish intertwine-- - But this shall greatly comfort me as wine, - Good wine, comforts a man and sweetly drowns - The many sorrows of this heart of mine-- - _I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs_. - - -_L’Envoi_ - - Prince, old bell-wether of an ancient line, - When you’re dead mutton I will weave you crowns - Of living laurel--if on you I dine-- - _I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs!_ - - - - -BALLADE OF A FEROCIOUS CATHOLIC - - - There is a term to every loud dispute, - A final reckoning I’m glad to say: - Some people end discussion with their boot; - Others, the prigs, will simply walk away. - But I, within a world of rank decay, - Can face its treasons with a flaming hope, - Undaunted by faith’s foemen in array-- - _I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope!_ - - They do not ponder on the Absolute, - But wander in a fog of words astray. - They have no rigid creed one can confute, - No hearty dogmas riotous and gay, - But feebly mutter through thin lips and grey - Things foully fashioned out of sin and soap;-- - But I, until my body rests in clay, - _I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope!_ - - I’ve often thought that I would like to shoot - The modernists on some convenient day; - Pull out eugenists by their noxious root; - The welfare-worker chattering like a jay - I’d publicly and pitilessly slay - With blunderbuss or guillotine or rope, - Burn at the stake, or boil in oil, or flay-- - _I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope._ - - -_L’Envoi_ - - Prince, proud prince Lucifer, your evil sway - Is over many who in darkness grope: - But as for me, I go another way-- - _I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope!_ - -_March 2nd, 1918._ - - - - -DAWN - - - I have beheld above the wooded hill - Thy tender loveliness, O Morning, break; - Beheld the solemn gladness thou dost spill - On eyes not yet awake. - - But why recall unto the painful day - Wild passions sleeping like oblivious kings? - The broad day comes and thou dost speed away - Westward on swift wide wings! - -_December 23rd, 1917._ - - - - -SUNSET - - - I have seen death in many a varied guise, - Cruel and tender, rude and beautiful, - Looking through windows in a young child’s eyes, - Stealing as soft as shadows in a pool, - Falling a sudden arrow of dismay, - Blown on a bugle with an iron note: - The slow and gentle progress of decay, - The taking of a strong man by the throat. - - I have seen flowers wither and the leaf - Of lusty Summer burn to hectic red. - But ah! that splendid death untouched by grief: - The sun with glad and golden-visaged head - Superbly standing on his deadly pyre, - And sinking in a sea of jewelled fire! - -_February 10th, 1918._ - - - - -PEACE - - - Whose lives are bound - By sleep and custom and tranquillity - Have never found - That peace which is a riven mystery - - Who only share - The calm that doth this stream, these orchards bless, - Breathe but the air - Of unimpassioned pagan quietness.... - - Initiate, - Pain burns about your head, an aureole, - Who hold in state - The utter joy which wounds and heals the soul. - - You kiss the Rod - With dumb, glad lips, and bear to worlds apart - The peace of God - Which passeth all understanding in your heart. - - - - -CARRION - - - The guns are silent for an hour; the sounds - Of war forget their doom; the work is done-- - Strong men, uncounted corpses heaped in mounds, - Are rotting in the sun. - - Foul carrion--souls till yesterday!--are these - With piteous faces in the bloodied mire; - But where are now their generous charities? - Their laughter, their desire? - - In each rent breast, each crushed and shattered skull - Lived joy and sorrow, tenderness and pain, - Hope, ardours, passions brave and beautiful - Among these thousands slain! - - A little time ago they heard the call - Of mating birds in thicket and in brake; - They wondering saw night’s jewelled curtain fall - And all the pale stars wake.... - - Bodies most marvellously fashioned, stark, - Strewn broadcast out upon the trampled sod-- - These temples of the Holy Ghost--O hark!-- - These images of God! - - Flesh, as the Word became in Bethlehem, - Houses to hold their Sacramental Lord: - Swiftly and terribly to harvest them - Swept the relentless sword! - - Happy if in your dying you can give - Some symbol of the Eternal Sacrificed, - Some pardon to the hearts of those who live-- - Dying the death of Christ! - -_Feast of the Epiphany, - - January 6th, 1917._ - - - - -THE BUILDING OF THE CITY - - - I, John, who once was called by Him in jest - Boanerges, the thunder’s son, - Who lay in tenderness upon His breast-- - Now that my days are done, - - And a great gathering glory fills my sight, - Would tell my children e’er I go - Of Him I saw with head and hair as white - As white wool--white as snow. - - The face before which heaven and earth did flee, - The burnished feet, the eyes of flame, - The seven stars bright with awful mystery, - And the Ineffable Name! - - Yet I who saw the four dread horsemen ride, - The vials of the wrath of God, - Beheld a greater thing: the Lamb’s pure Bride, - The golden floors she trod. - - How Babylon, Babylon was overthrown, - And how Euphrates flowed with blood-- - Ah, but His mercy through the wide world sown, - The tree with healing bud! - - I heard, among the hosts of Paradise, - The glad new song that never tires, - A Lamb as it had been slain in sacrifice - Enthroned amid the choirs. - - After the utmost woes have taken toll, - And ravens plucked the eyes of kings, - God’s own strange peace shall come upon the soul - On gentle, dove-like wings. - - The Dragon cast into the voidless night, - God’s city cometh from above, - Built by the sword of Michael and his might, - But founded in God’s love. - - - - -EDEN RE-OPENED - - - No man regarded where God sat - Among the rapt seraphic brows, - And God’s heart heavy grew thereat, - At man’s long absence from His house. - - Then from the iris-circled throne - A strange and secret word is said, - And straightway hath an angel flown, - On wings of feathered sunlight sped, - Through space to where the world shone red. - - Reddest of all the stars of night - To the hoar watchers of the spheres, - But ashy cold to man’s dim sight, - And filled with sins and woes and fears - And the waste weariness of years. - - (No laughter rippled in the grass, - No light upon the jewelled sea; - The sky hung sullenly as brass, - And men went groping tortuously.) - - But the stern warden of the Gate - Broke his dread sword upon his knees, - And opened wide the fields where wait - The loveless unremembered trees, - The sealed and silent mysteries. - - And the scales fell from man’s eyes, - And his heart woke again, as when - Adam found Eve in Paradise; - And joy was made complete ... and then - God entered in and spoke with men. - - - - -THE HOLY SPRING - - - The radiant feet of Christ now lead - The dancing sunny hours, - The ancient Earth is young again - With growing grass and warm white rain - And hedgerows full of flowers. - - The lilac and laburnum show - The glory of their bud, - And scattered on each hawthorn spray - The snow-white and the crimson may-- - The may as red as blood. - - The bluebells in the deep dim woods - Like fallen heavens lie, - And daffodils and daffodils - Upon a thousand little hills - Are waving to the sky. - - The corn imprisoned in the mould - Has burst its wintry tomb, - And on each burdened orchard tree - Which stood an austere calvary - The apple blossom bloom. - - The kiss of Christ has brought to life - The marvel of the sod. - Oh, joy has rent its chrysalis - To flash its jewelled wings, and is - A dream of beauty and of bliss-- - The loveliness of God. - -_May 1917._ - - - - -VIATICUM - - - Dear God, not only do Thou come at last - When death hath filled my heart with dread affright, - But when in gathered dark I meet aghast - The mimic death that falls on me at night. - - The daily dying, when alone I tread - The valley of the shadow, breast the Styx, - With shrouded soul and body stiff in bed ... - And no companion from the welcome pyx! - - How should I face disarmed and unawares - The phantoms of the Pit oblivion brings-- - My will surrendered, mind unapt for snares, - Eyes blinded by the evil, shuddering wings, - - Did not the sunset stand encoped in gold - For priestly offices, ’mid censers swung, - And with anointed thumb and finger hold - The symbolled Godhead to my eager tongue? - - Then with my body’s trance there doth descend - Peace on my eyelids, goodness that shall keep - My wandering feet, and at my side a friend - Through all the winding caverns of my sleep. - -_August 12th, 1917._ - - - - -PUNISHMENT - - - What vengeful rod - Is laid upon my bleeding shoulders? - What scourge, O God, - Makes known my shame to all beholders? - - Through what vast skies - Crashes Thy wrath like shuddering thunders? - - * * * * * - - Before my eyes - Thou dost display the wonder of wonders! - - As punishment - To one whom sin should bind in prison, - Hath Mercy sent - Word of the crucified arisen! - - Guilt’s penalty - Exacted--past my reeling reason!-- - Which lays on me - Love--as a whip fit for my Treason! - -_March 3rd, 1918._ - - - - -AFTER COMMUNION - - - Now art Thou in my house of feeble flesh, - O Word made flesh! My burning soul by Thine - Caught mystically in a living mesh! - Now is the royal banquet, now the wine, - The body broken by the courteous Host - Who is my humble Guest--a Guest adored-- - Though once I spat upon, scourged at the post, - Hounded to Calvary and slew my Lord! - - My name is Legion, but separate and alone; - Wash, wash, dear Crucified, my Pilate hand! - Rejected Stone, be Thou my corner-stone! - Like Mary at the cross’s foot I stand; - Like Magdalene upon my sins I grieve; - Like Thomas do I touch Thee and believe. - -_December 16th, 1917._ - - - - -THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER - - - Who standing thrilled in his bewilderment - Can tell thy humble ways, - The hidden paths on which thy white feet went - Through all thy lonely days? - - From what deep root the Lily of the Lord - To grace and beauty grew, - Or in what fires was tempered the keen sword - That pierced thy bosom through? - - But we may turn and find within our hands - Our souls’ strange bread and wine, - The gathered meanings of thy starry lands - Where mystic roses shine. - - Heaven’s air might grow for us too cold and tense, - Her towers far and faint, - Did we not know thy sorrowful innocence, - Or soldier, singer, saint, - - Earth’s heroes with earth’s poor not kneel and tell - Their full hearts’ burdenings - To those dear eyes before which Gabriel - Bent low with folded wings. - - The soldier shall remember whose the heel - That crushed the serpent’s head, - How mighty in thy hand hath been the steel - That dyed thy bosom red. - - The singer weave for thee a cloak of light - Where earth’s wild colours run, - As God hath crowned thee with the stars of night - And clothed thee with the sun. - - The saint who in a cloister cool and dim - His difficult road hath kept - Shall think of thee whose body cloistered Him - When in thy womb He slept. - - And thou shalt call to thee the poor of earth - To share thy joy with them, - And fill them with thy magnitude and mirth - In many a Bethlehem. - -_February 4th, 1917._ - - - - -THE BOASTER - - - If the last blissful star should fade and wither, - If one by one - Orion and the Pleiades Crash and Crumble; - The lordly sun - - Be turned away, a beggar, all his triumphs - Gone down in doom, - Wandering unregarded through the cosmos, - None giving him room. - - Then would I shout defiant to the whirlwinds; - Boastingly cry, - “Go wreck the world, its towering hills and waters! - But I, even I, - - “Whose body was flung out upon the dungheap - With weeds to rot, - Still keep my soul unshaken by the ruin - That harms me not! - - “True, I have fled from many a shameful battle, - Did cringe and cower - Before my foes, but who can ever rob me - Of one great hour?” - - For joy rang through me like a silver trumpet; - About my head - The tiny flowers flapped in the breeze like banners - Of royal red. - - And suddenly the seven deeps of heaven - Were cloven apart, - When love stood in your eyes and shone and trembled - Within your heart. - -_February 3rd, 1918._ - - - - -UNWED - - - If I go down to death uncomforted - By love’s great conquest and its great surrender, - Bearing my soul along, unwed, unwed; - (Your darling hands’ caresses swift and tender - Lacking upon my head, upon my lips - Your lips); and in my heart love unfulfilled, - And in my eyes a blind apocalypse, - Bereft of all the glory I have willed; - - I shall go proudly for your dear love’s sake, - Triumphant for brief memories, but tragic - Because of those large hopes that fail and break - Beneath Fate’s wizard-wand of cruel magic-- - But ah, Fate could not touch me if I stood - Completed by your love’s beatitude! - -_December 15th, 1917._ - - - - -WED - - - I know the winds are rhythmical - In unison with your footfall. - I know that in your heart you keep - The secret of the woodland’s sleep. - - You met the blossom-bearing May-- - Sweet sister!--on the road half way, - And she has laid upon your hair - The coloured coronal you wear. - - But ah! the white wings of the Dove - Flutter about the head I love, - And on your bosom doth repose - The beauty of the Mystic Rose, - - That I must add to poetry - A dark and fearful ecstasy; - For in the house of joy you bless - Unworthiness with holiness. - - - - -ENGLAND - - -I - - Like some good ship that founders in the sea, - Like granite towers that crumble into dust, - So pass the emblems of thine empery. - But O immortal Mother and august, - Ardours of English saint and bard and king - Blend simply with thy soul, even as their bones - Mingle with English soil. Their spirits sing - A great song lordly as is a loud wind’s tones. - Decayed by gold and ease and loathly pride, - We had forgot our greatness and become - Huckstering empire-builders, and denied - The excellent name of freedom ... till the drum - Woke glory such as met the eyes of Drake, - Or Alfred when he saw the heathen break! - - -II - - Where shall we find thee? In the avarice - That robs our brave adventures? In the shame - Spoiling our splendours? In the sacrifice - Of tears we wrung from Ireland? Nay, thy name - Is written secretly in kindliness - Upon the patient faces of the poor, - In that good anger wherewith thou didst bless - Our hearts, when beat upon the shaking door - Strong hands of hell.... Whether before the flood - We sink, or out of agonies reborn - Learn once again the meaning of our blood, - Laughter and liberty--a sacred scorn - Is ours irrevocably since we stood - And heard the barbarians’ guns across the morn. - -_December 24th and 26th, 1917._ - - - - -LYRIC LOVE - - - When kindly years have given me grace - To read your spirit through; - To see the starlight on your face, - Upon your hair the dew; - - To touch the fingers of your hands, - The shining wealth they hold; - To find in dim and dreamy lands - That tender dusks enfold - - The ancient sorrows that were sealed, - The hidden wells of joy, - The secrets that were unrevealed - To one who was a boy. - - Then to my patient ponderings - Will fruits of solace fall, - When I have learned through many Springs, - Mighty and mystical, - - To hear through sounds of brooks and birds - Love in the leafy grove, - As in my lyric heart your words - Bestir a lyric love. - - Then I shall brood, grown good and wise, - The truth of fairy tales, - And greet romance with gay surprise - In woods of nightingales. - - And find, with hoary head and sage, - In songs which I have sung - The meanings of the end of age-- - The rapture of the young! - -_February 11th, 1918._ - - - - -DRUMS OF DEFEAT - - - - -THE FOOL - - - A shout of laughter and of scorn, - A million jeering lips and eyes-- - And in the sight of all men born - The wildest of earth’s madmen dies! - - Whose trust was put in empty words - To-day is numbered with the dead; - To-morrow crows and evil birds - Shall pluck those strange eyes from his head! - - The fellows of this country clown - Are scattered (fool beyond belief!), - All blown away like thistledown, - Except a harlot and a thief. - - And shall he shatter fates with _these_? - (He that would neither strive nor cry) - Or thunder through the Seven Seas? - Or shake the stars down from the sky? - - Have mercy and humility - Become unconquerable swords, - That Caiaphas must tremblingly - Kneel with the world’s imperial lords - Before this crazy carpenter-- - This body writhing on a rod-- - And worship in that bloody hair - The dreadful foolishness of God? - - A shout of laughter and of scorn, - A million jeering lips and eyes-- - And in the sight of all men born - The wildest of earth’s madmen dies! - - - - -DON QUIXOTE - - - The air is valiant with drums - And honourable the skies, - When he rides singing as he comes - With solemn, dreamy eyes-- - Of swinging of the splendid swords, - And crashing of the nether lords, - When Hell makes onslaught with its hordes - In desperate emprise. - - He rides along the roads of Spain - The champion of the world, - For whom great soldans live again - With Moorish beards curled-- - But all their spears shall not avail - With one who weareth magic mail, - This hero of an epic tale - And his brave gauntlet hurled! - - Clangour of horses and of arms - Across the quiet fields, - Herald and trumpeter, alarms - Of bowmen and of shields; - When doubt that twists and is afraid - Is shattered in the last crusade, - Where flaunts the plume and falls the blade - The cavalier wields. - - Although in that eternal cause - No liegemen gather now, - Or flowered dames to grant applause, - Yet on his naked brow - The victor’s laurels interwreath; - But he no dower can bequeath - But sword snapped short and empty sheath - And errantry and vow! - - Against his foolish innocence - No man alive can stand, - Nor any giant drive him hence - With sling or club or brand-- - For where his angry bugle blows - There fall unconquerable foes; - Of mighty men of war none knows - To stay his witless hand. - - All legendary wars grow tame - And every tale gives place - Before the knight’s unsullied name - And his romantic face: - Yea, he shall break the stoutest bars - And bear his courage and his scars - Beyond the whirling moons and stars - And all the suns of space! - - - - -IRELAND - - - Beside your bitter waters rise - The Mystic Rose, the Holy Tree, - Immortal courage in your eyes, - And pain and liberty. - - The stricken arms, the cloven shields, - The trampled plumes, the shattered drum, - The swords of your lost battlefields - To hopeless battles come. - - And though your scattered remnants know - Their shameful rout, their fallen kings, - Yet shall the strong, victorious foe - Not understand these things: - - The broken ranks that never break, - The merry road your rabble trod, - The awful laughter they shall take - Before the throne of God. - - - - -IN MEMORIAM - -PATRICK HENRY PEARSE - -_Executed May 3rd, 1916_ - -R.I.P. - - - In this grey morning wrapped in mist and rain - You stood erect beneath the sullen sky, - A heart which held its peace and noble pain, - A brave and gentle eye! - - The last of all your silver songs are sung; - Your fledgling dreams on broken wings are dashed-- - For suddenly a tragic sword was swung - And ten true rifles crashed. - - By one who walks aloof in English ways - Be this high word of praise and sorrow said: - He lived with honour all his lovely days, - And is immortal, dead! - - - - -MATER DESOLATA - -TO MARGARET PEARSE - - - To you the dreary night’s long agony, - The anguish, and the laden heart that broke - Its vase of burning tears, the voiceless cry,-- - And then the horror of that blinding stroke! - To you all this--and yet to you much more. - God pressed into the chalice of your pain - A starry triumph, when the sons you bore - Were written on the roll of Ireland’s slain. - Let no man touch your glorious heritage, - Or pluck one pang of sorrow from your heart, - Or stain with any pity the bright page - Emblazoning the holy martyrs’ part. - Ride as a queen your splendid destiny, - Since death is swallowed up in victory! - - - - -THE STIRRUP CUP - - - Draw rein; there’s the inn where the lamps show plain-- - Where we never may drink together again. - While the stars are lost in the slate-cold sky - Let us drink good ale before we die - In the wind and bitter rain! - - Your sword is made ready upon your hip? - Then once again, man, in good-fellowship! - Though hunted and outlawed and fugitive - We shall drink together again if we live-- - Set the tankard to your lip! - - _Honour and death and_--how goes the tune? - See the clouds rift and disrobe the moon! - And a blood-red streak in the sullen skies - And--_Honour and death and adventure’s eyes_-- - Now spurs--for they’ll be here soon! - - - - -THE ENSIGN - - - High up above the wooded ridge - Beams out a round benignant moon - Upon the village and the bridge - Through which the slumberous waters croon. - - Now polished silver is the mill; - And, clad in ghostly mysteries, - The church tower glimmers on the hill - Among the sad, abiding trees; - - And watched by its familiar star - Sleeps each small house, so still and white-- - From all the noise and blood of war, - O God, how far removed to-night! - - Unconscious of their destiny - How many drew this air for breath; - Here lived and loved ... and now they see - The terrible, swift shape of death. - - The bounty of these quiet skies, - The tender beauty of these lands, - Still sheds a peace upon their eyes, - And binds their hearts and nerves their hands. - - That they who only thought to know - This valley in the moonlight furled, - Have heard immortal trumpets blow, - And shake the pillars of the world! - - - - -BALLADE OF ORCHARDS - - - Though Jeshurun kicks and grows fatter and fatter, - And chinks in his pockets the gold of his gain, - Yet up in the gables the young sparrows chatter, - The corn-fields are rich with the promise of grain, - The hedges are yellow, and (balm to the brain!) - Their pink and white blossoms the cherry trees scatter-- - _The blossoming orchards of England remain!_ - - Long lines of our soldiers swing by with a clatter, - To die in their thousands by river and plain, - In lands where the gathering loud torrents batter, - They heap the hills high with heroical slain-- - But far in the weald how the misty moons wane! - And deep in a silence no anger can shatter - _The blossoming orchards of England remain!_ - - The world is a fool and as mad as a hatter-- - And poets and lovers were sent her for bane-- - Yet theirs are the ears which can catch the first patter, - The prophet of all God’s abundance of rain, - The smell of earth earthy and wholesome again; - And from the drenched ground where the spent bullets spatter - _The blossoming orchards of England remain!_ - - -_L’Envoi_ - - Princes and potentates, ye whom men flatter, - Harken a moment to this my refrain-- - Ye shall pass as a dream, and it will not much matter-- - _The blossoming orchards of England remain!_ - - - - -A GREAT WIND - - - A great wind blows through the pine trees, - A clean salt wind from sea, - A loud wind full of all healing - Blows kindly but boisterously; - Oh, a good wind blows through the pine trees - And the heart and mind of me! - - A wind stirs the long grass lightly - And the dear young flowers of May, - And blows in the English meadows - The breath of a Summer’s day-- - But this wind rings with honour - And is wet with the cold sea spray. - - There are straits where the tall ships founder - And no live thing may draw breath, - Where men look at splendid, angry skies - And hear what the thunder saith: - Where men look their last at glory - And bravely drink of death. - - There is much afoot this evening - In these pine woods by the sea, - And no branch shall endure until morning - That is rotten on the tree-- - Nor any decayed thing endure in my soul - When God’s wind blows through me! - - - - -BIRTHDAY SONNET - - - How shall I find the words of perfect praise, - To give you back the gladness and the mirth, - With which you filled my hands, the lyric days - Your gracious bounty gave me in my dearth? - My song fails on the wing, and yet I know - The meaning of Spring’s living ecstasy, - The laughing prophecy the March winds blow - Among the buds, and through the heart of me. - - I know, I know the rose and silver dress, - Wherewith God clothed that clear and virginal morn, - Which came to you in joyful gentleness, - The hour of shy delight when you were born. - I know the innocence and sweet surprise, - The waiting earth made ready for your eyes. - -_March 27th, 1917_ - - - - -SILENCE - - - Though I should deck you with my jewelled rhyme, - And spread my songs a carpet at your feet, - Where men may see unchanged through changing time - Your face a pattern in sad songs and sweet; - Though I should blow your honour through the earth - Or touch your gentleness on gentle strings, - Or sing abroad your beauty and your worth-- - Dearest, yet these were all imperfect things. - - Rather in lovely silence will I keep - The heart’s shut song no words of mine may mar, - No words of mine enrich. The ways of sleep - And prayer and pain, all things that lonely are, - All humble things that worship and rejoice - Shall weave a spell of silence for my voice. - - - - -AT YELVERTON - - - When into Yelverton I came - I found the bracken all aflame, - The tors in their unyielding line, - The air as comforting as wine, - The swinging wind, the singing sun - At Yelverton. - - At Yelverton the moor is kind - And blows its healing through my mind, - The hunchback skyline lies a mist - Of purple and of amethyst, - And up and down the smooth roads run - At Yelverton. - - At Yelverton a man may stand, - The whole of Devon within his hand, - The tors in their austerity, - And far away the basking sea, - A cloth of shining silver spun - At Yelverton. - - At Yelverton a man may keep - Deep silence and a deeper sleep, - Yet know the brave recurring dream - Of kingly cider, queenly cream - To bless him when his days are done - At Yelverton. - - - - -THE JOY OF THE WORLD - - - For your joy do the long grasses rustle, the tree-tops stir - Where the wind moves eagerly through the pine and the fir; - Alert for your coming the woods and the meadows all wait; - The buttercups grow and the turtle calls to his mate. - - And God for your Clothing fashioned in patience the sun, - A cloak wrought of glory and fire where dreadful dyes run, - Saffron and Crimson and sapphire and gold, as is meet; - And stars to be set on your head and stars under your feet. - - For you, His most lovely of daughters, the mighty God bowed - From heaven to give you your dowry of sunset and cloud; - And splendid in light and in worship were Gabriel’s wings, - When he breathed in your bosom the hope of impossible things. - - Sudden and dear was the secret he whispered to you, - Of one who should quietly fall to the earth with the dew; - As dew that at night in the valleys distils upon fleece, - With no shattering trump did He come but in terrible peace. - - In your hands that are sweeter than honey, in all the wide earth - God laid the desire of the nations, their home and their mirth, - And gave to your merciful keeping man’s joy and man’s rest, - And under incredible skies a babe at your breast. - - And though the stars wane and the royal deep colours should fade, - Yet still shall endure in the heart and the lips of a Maid, - The sweep of the archangel’s pinions--the humble accord-- - The song--the dim stable--the night--and the birth of the Lord! - - For your joy do the long grasses rustle, the tree-tops stir - Where the wind moves eagerly through the pine and the fir; - Alert for your coming the woods and the meadows all wait; - The buttercups grow and the turtle calls to his mate. - - - - -GRATITUDE - - - How shall I answer God and stand, - My naked life within my hand, - To plead upon the Judgment Day? - Seeing the glory in array - Of cherubim and seraphim, - What answer shall I give to Him? - - I was too dull of heart and sense - To read His cryptic providence, - Its strange and intricate device - Was hidden from my foolish eyes. - My gratitude could not reach up - To the sharing of His awful cup, - To the blinding light of mystery - And the painful pomp of sanctity. - - But since as a happy child I went - With love and laughter and content - Along the road of simple things, - Making no idle questionings; - Since young and careless I did keep - The cool and cloistered halls of sleep, - And took my daily drink and food, - Finding them very, very good-- - God may perhaps be pleased to see - Such signs of sheer felicity. - - But if I somehow should be given - An attic in His storied heaven, - I’m sure I should be far apart - From Catherine of the wounded heart, - Teresa of the flaming soul, - And Bruno’s sevenfold aureole, - And be told, of course, I’m not to mix - With the Bernards or the Dominics, - Or thrust my company upon - St. Michael or the great St. John. - - Yet God may grant it me to sit - And sing (with little skill or wit) - My intimate canticles of praise - For all life’s dear and gracious days-- - Though hardly a single syllable - Of what St. Raphael has to tell, - The triumphs of the cosmic wars, - The raptures and the jewelled scars - Of the high lords of martyrdom-- - Hardly a word of this will come - To strike my understanding ear, - Hardly a single word, I fear! - - * * * * * - - But woe upon the Judgment Day - If my heart gladdened not at May; - Nor woke to hear with the waking birds - The morning’s sweet and winsome words; - Nor loved to see laburnums fling - Their pennons to the winds of Spring; - Nor watched among the expectant grass - The Summer’s painted pageant pass; - Nor thrilled with blithe beatitude - Within a kindling Autumn wood - Or when each separate twig did lie - Etched sharp upon the wintry sky. - If out of all my sunny hours - I brought no chaplet of their flowers; - If I gave no kiss to His lovely feet - When they shone as poppies in the wheat; - If no rose to me were a Mystic Rose, - No Snow were whiter than the snows; - If in my baseness I let fall - At once His cross and His carnival ... - Then must I take my ungrateful head - To where the lakes of Hell burn red. - - - - -IN DOMO JOHANNIS - - - Here rest the thin worn hands which fondled Him, - The trembling lips which magnified the Lord, - Who looked upon His handmaid, the young, slim - Mary at her meek tasks, and here the sword - Within the soul of her whose anguished eyes - Gazed at the stars which watch Gethsemane, - And saw the sun fail in the stricken skies. - In these dim rooms she guards the treasury - Of her white memories--the strange, sweet face - More marred than any man’s, the tender, fain - And eager words, the wistful human grace, - The mysteries of glory, joy and pain, - And that hope tremulous, half-sob, half-song, - Ringing through night--“How long, O Lord, how long?” - - - - -AT WOODCHESTER - - - Hark how a silver music falls - Between these meek monastic walls, - And airy flute and psaltery - Awaken heavenly melody! - - Yet not to unentunèd ears - May come the joyance of the spheres, - And only humbled hearts may see - The humble heart of mystery. - - Where tread in light and lilting ways - Bright angels through the dance’s maze - On grassy floors to meet the just - In robes of woven diamond dust. - - And jewelled daisies burst to greet - The flutter of the Blessed’s feet: - Along the cloister’s gathered gloom - Lilies and mystic roses bloom. - - Grown in the hush of hidden hours - Thoughts fairer than the summer flowers - Lift up their sweet and living heads, - Crystalline whites and sanguine reds! - - Who keep in lowly pageantry - Silence a lovely ceremony;[B] - Who set a seal upon their eyes - Responsive only to the skies; - - Who in a quick obedience move - Along the hallowed paths of love, - Win at last to that secret place - Adorned with the glory of God’s face. - - And as each eve the tired sun - Sinks softly down, the long day done, - Upon the bosom of the west-- - So, even so, upon God’s breast - - Each weary heart is folded deep - Into His arms in quiet sleep, - And sheltered safe, all warm and bright, - Against the phantoms of the night. - - [B] “_Quia silentium est pulchra caeremonia_”: - - Ex Constitutionibus Fratrum - S. Ordinis Prædicatorum. - - - - - -“FOR THEY SHALL POSSESS THE EARTH” - - - You who were beauty’s worshipper, - Her ardent lover, in this place - You have seen Beauty face to face; - And known the wistful eyes of her, - And kissed the hands of Poverty, - And praised her tattered bravery. - - You shall be humble, give your days - To silence and simplicity; - And solitude shall come to be - The goal of all your winding ways; - When pride and youthful pomp of words - Fly far away like startled birds. - - Possessing nothing, you shall know - The heart of all things in the earth, - Their secret agonies and mirth, - The awful innocence of snow, - The sadness of November leaves, - The joy of fields of girded sheaves. - - A shelter from the driving rain - Your high renouncement of desire; - Food it shall be and wine and fire; - And Peace shall enter once again - As quietly as dreams in sleep - The hidden trysting-place you keep. - - You shall grow humble as the grass, - And patient as each slow, dumb beast; - And as their fellow--yea the least-- - Yield stoat and hedgehog room to pass; - And learn the ignorance of men - Before the robin and the wren. - - The things so terrible and sweet - You strove to say in accents harsh, - The frogs are croaking on the marsh, - The crickets chirping at your feet-- - Oh, they can teach you unafraid - The meaning of the songs you made. - - Till clothed in white humilities, - Each happening that doth befall, - Each thought of yours be musical, - As wind is musical in the trees, - When strong as sun and clean as dew - Your old dead songs come back to you. - - - - -BALLADE OF THE BEST SONG IN THE WORLD - - - I know a sheaf of splendid songs by heart - Which stir the blood or move the soul to tears, - Of death or honour or of love’s sweet smart, - The runes and legends of a thousand years; - And some of them go plaintively and slow, - And some are jolly like the earth in May-- - But this is _really_ the best song I know: - _I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay_. - - I sang it in a house-boat on the Dart - To several members of the House of Peers. - The Editor of the _Exchange and Mart_ - (A man of taste) stood up and led the cheers. - I carolled it at Christmas in the snow, - I hummed it on my summer holiday-- - Doh-ray-me-fah-sol-la-fah-me-ray-doh-- - _I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay_. - - It made a gathering of Fabians start - And put their fingers in their outraged ears. - They did not understand my subtle art, - But though they only gave me scoffs and jeers, - I sang my ditty high, I sang it low, - I sang it every known (and unknown) way-- - _Crescendo, forte, pianissimo_-- - _I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay_. - - -_L’Envoi_ - - Prince, if by some amazing fluke you go - To heaven, you’ll hear the shawms and citherns play, - And all the trumpets of the angels blow - _I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay_. - - - - -TAIL-PIECE - - - A boy goes by the window while I write, - Whistling--the little demon!--in delight. - I shake my fist and scowl at him, and curse - Over the carcase of my murdered verse. - And yet--which is it that the world most needs, - His happy laughter or my threadbare screeds? - There is more poetry in being young - Than in the finest song that Shakespeare sung-- - And if that’s true of godlike Shakespeare--well, - Whistle the Marseillaise, and ring the bell, - And chase the cat, and lose your tennis-ball, - And tear your trousers on the garden wall, - Scalp a Red Indian, sail the Spanish seas-- - Do any mortal thing you damn well please. - - - - -AVE - - - When all the world was black - Your courage did not fail; - No laughter did you lack - Or fellowship or ale. - - And you have made defeat - A nobler pageantry, - Your bitterness more sweet - Than is their victory. - - For by your stricken lips - A gallant song is sung; - Joy suffers no eclipse, - Is lyrical and young, - - Is rooted in the sod, - Is ambient in the air, - Since Hope lifts up to God - The escalade of prayer. - - The tyrants and the kings - In purple splendour ride, - But all ironic things - Go marching at your side - To nerve your hands with power, - To salt your souls with scorn, - Till that awaited hour - When Freedom shall be born. - - - - -A REPLY - -_To one who said that to conceive of God as a person was to -reduce Him to our own level._ - - - Oh, we can pierce - With the swift lightnings far and fierce; - We can behold - Him in the sunset’s lucid gold. - - Yet not by these - Do we read His dark mysteries, - Or tear apart - The thick veil upon Heaven’s heart.... - - Kneel with the kings - Before His dreadful Emptyings, - And see Him laid - In the slender arms of a Maid. - - The village street - Knew God’s familiar, weary feet-- - The carpenter’s Son - Who made the great hills one by one. - - No glory slips - From His sublime apocalypse-- - His homespun dress, - Hunger, thirst and the wilderness. - - To a slave’s death - He gave his broken body’s breath; - An outcast hung - The swart and venomous thieves among. - - And still yields He - Godhead to our humanity, - Leaving for sign - Himself in the meek bread and wine. - - - - -JOB - - - Can flesh and blood contrive defence - ’Gainst swords that pierce the spirit through, - Or meet, not knowing why or whence, - The blind bolt crashing from the blue? - - “Oh, men have held times out of mind - Their stern and stoic courage bright-- - But if no cry comes on the wind, - How shall I face the ambushed night? - - “How shall I turn to bay, and stand - To grapple, if I cannot see - My fierce assailant at my hand, - The high look of mine enemy? - - “If He will answer me, with rod - And plague and thunder let Him come-- - But how can man dispute with God - Who writes no book, whose voice is dumb? - - “Who rings me round with prison bars - Through which I peer with sleepless eyes, - And see the enigmatic stars-- - These only--in the iron skies.” - - * * * * * - - “_These only?_ These together sang - At the glad birthday of the earth - When all the courts of Heaven rang - With shouting and angelic mirth! - - “The night enfolds you with a cloak - Of silence and of chill affright? - But when man’s wells of laughter broke, - Who gave man singing in the night? - - “The Rod shall burst to flowers and fruit - Richer than grew on Aaron’s rod, - And Mercy clothe you head to foot, - Beloved and smitten of your God!” - - - - -THE SOIL OF SOLACE - - - I may not stand with other men, or ride - In those grey fields where fall the screaming shells, - Or mix my blood with blood of those who died - To find a heaven in their sevenfold hells. - Honour and death a strident bugle blows, - Setting an end to death and blasphemy-- - Oh, had I any choice in it, God knows - Where in this epic day I too would be! - Yet may I keep some English heart alive - With a poet’s pleasure in all English things-- - Good-fellowship and kindliness still thrive - In English soil; the dusk is full of wings; - And by the river long reeds grow; and still - A little house sits brooding on the hill! - - - - -TO THE DEAD - - - Now lays the king his crown and sceptre down, - Her gown of taffeta the lovely bride, - The knight his sword, his cap and bells the clown, - The poet all his verse’s pomp and pride-- - The eloquent, the beautiful, the brave - Descend reluctant to the straight, cold grave. - - No more shall shine for them the glorious rose, - Or sunsets stain with red and awful gold, - Night shall no more for them her stars disclose, - Or day the grandeur of the Downs unfold, - Or those eyes dull in death watch solemnly - The regal splendour of the Sussex sea. - - For them the ringing surges are in vain; - They wake not at the cry of waking bird; - The sun, the holy hill, the fruitful rain, - The winds have called them and they have not stirred; - The woods are widowed of your eager tread, - O dear and desolate and dungeoned dead! - - Yet you shall rest awhile in English earth, - And ripen many a pleasant English field - Through the green Summer to the Autumn’s mirth - And flower unconsciously upon the weald-- - Until that last angelic word be said, - And the shut graves deliver up their dead! - - - - -SPRING, 1916 - - - The grey and wrinkled earth again is young - And lays aside her tattered winter weeds - For April-coloured gauze, and gives her tongue - To jocund songs instead of pedants’ screeds. - Scatter the thin, white ashes of the hearth, - And throw the brilliant diamond casement wide-- - Oh, wonder of the lonely garden garth! - Oh, golden glory of the steep hillside - Where flames the living loveliness of God!... - But far, far off, beyond the bloom and bud - A fiercer blossom burgeons from the sod - Bright with the hues of honour and of blood; - And men have plucked the sanguine flower of pain - Where violets might be growing in the rain! - - - - -THE RETURN - - - Beyond these hills where sinks the sun in amber, - Imperial in purple, gold and blood, - I keep the garden walks where roses clamber, - Set in still rows with shrub and flower and bud. - - After the clash of all the swords that sunder, - After the headstrong pride of youth that fails, - After the shattered heavens and the thunder - Remain the summer woods and nightingales! - - So when the fever has died down that urges - My lips to utterance of whirling words, - Which, blown among the winds and stormy surges, - Skim the wild sea-waves like the wild sea-birds. - - So when has ceased the tumult and the riot, - A man may rest his soul a little space, - And seek your solitary eyes in quiet, - And all the gracious calmness of your face. - - - - -FULFILMENT - -(_An Inscription for a Book of Poems_) - - - You who will hold these gathered songs, - Made, darling, long before we met, - Must keep the prophecy which belongs - To those dear eyes, so strangely set - With peace and laughter, where fulfils - The rapture of my alien hills. - - Unknown, unknown you softly trod - Among my fruitful silences, - The last and splendid gift of God. - The quest of all my Odysseys, - The meaning of those quiet lands - Where I found comfort at your hands. - - And when the yellowing woods awake, - And small birds’ twittered loves are told, - When streams run silver, and there break - The crocuses to tender gold, - When quick light winds shall stir my hair, - Some part of you will wander there. - - - - -PROPHECY - - - My eyes look out across the dim grey wold, - The grey sky and the grey druidic trees, - Knowing they keep inviolate the gold - Memories of summer and the prophecies - That lie imprisoned in the buried seeds - Of all the lyric gaiety of Spring.... - The sun shall ride again his flaming steeds; - The dragon-fly dance past on diamond wing; - The earth distil to music; and the rose - Flaunt her impassioned loveliness and be - A symbol of the singing hour that blows - The tall ship and my gladness home to me-- - When I shall cry: Awake, my heart, awake, - And deck yourself in beauty for her sake! - - - - -THE SINGER TO HIS LADY - - - If any song I sing for you should be - But made to please a poet’s vanity, - A richly jewelled and an empty cup - In which no hallowed wine is offered up, - A thing of chosen rhyme and cunning phrase, - Fashioned that it may bring its maker praise; - If love in me grow only soft and sweet, - Remembering not with what worn and weary feet - It journeyed to your fields of golden grain, - The quiet orchards folded in the rain, - The twilight gardens and the morning birds; - If love remembers not and brings you words, - Words as your thanks; if in an idle hour - It breaks its sword and plays the troubadour-- - Then may high God, the Universal Lord, - Break me, as I false knight have broken my sword, - If I who have touched your hands should bring eclipse - To love’s nobility with lying lips, - Having seen more terrible than gleaming spears - Your gentleness, your sorrow and your tears! - - - - -CERTAINTIES - - - Across the fields of unforgotten days - I see the gorgeous pearl-white morning burst - Through her fine gauze of dreamy summer haze - Beyond the rolling flats of Staplehurst, - To bless the hours with songs of nesting birds, - And the wild hedge rose and the apple tree, - And laughter and the ring of friendly words, - And the noon’s pageant moving languidly. - I walk again with boys now grown to men, - And see far off with reminiscent eyes, - How in the tangled woods of Horsmonden - The mighty sun, a blood-red dragon, dies.... - Some things there are as rooted as the grass - In a man’s mind--and these shall never pass. - - - - -FEAR - - - Tread softly; we are on enchanted ground: - One touch and every hidden thing lies bare, - The deep sea sundered, suddenly unbound - The awful thunders instinct in the air! - - Oh, these we know; but what if we should break - A secret spell as easily as glass, - And stumble on their sleeping wrath and wake - The armies and the million blades of grass? - - And find more dread than whirlwinds round our head, - The sweep of sparrows’ fierce, avenging wings, - The anger of wild roses burning red, - The terrible hate of earth’s most helpless things? - - - - -CHARITY - - - Who think of Charity as milky-eyed - Know not of God’s great handmaid’s terrible name, - Who comes in garments by the rainbow dyed, - And crowned and winged and charioted with flame. - - For Truth and Justice ride abroad with her, - And Honour’s trumpets peal before her face: - The high archangels stand and minister - When she doth sit within her holy place. - - None knoweth in the depth nor in the height - What meaneth Charity, God’s secret word, - But kiss her feet, and veil their burning sight - Before her naked heart, her naked sword. - - - - -SIGHT AND INSIGHT - - - This hour God’s darkest mysteries - Are plainer than the screeds of men, - Tangled and false philosophies - Fashioned by lying tongue and pen. - - Plain as those bastions of cloud, - Kind as the wide and kindly skies, - And in the wild winds shouting loud - The truths concealed from pedants’ eyes. - - Pages which he may read who runs, - Where no unlettered man may fail, - Candid as are his noonday suns - Familiar as his cheese and ale. - - Him, Whom our eyes may see, our ears - Hear, Whom our groping hands may touch-- - Him we shall find ere many years, - And finding fear not overmuch. - - Who gave me simple things to keep,-- - Laughter and love and memories, - A farm, and meadows full of sheep, - And quiet gardens full of bees, - And those five gateways of the soul, - Through which all good may come to me, - Saints glorious of aureole, - The flying thunders of the sea, - - And feasts, and gracious hands of friends, - And flowers good to stroke and smell; - Oh, in the secret woods He sends - The birds their trembling joys to tell! - - He, too, is every day afresh - Hid and revealed in bread and wine,-- - The awful Word of God made flesh, - Mortal commingling with divine! - - Shadows and evil dreams o’erthrown - With Dagon and the gods of scorn, - Since Peace was in the silence blown - On that dear night when God was born. - - - - -CHRISTMAS CAROL - - - Lay quietly Thy kingly head - O mighty weakness from on high; - God rest Thee in Thy manger-bed-- - _Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby_-- - O Splendour hid from every eye!-- - _La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!_ - - “Ye mild and humble cattle, yield - Room for my little son to lie; - Your God and mine is here revealed-- - _Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby_-- - Naked beneath a naked sky-- - _La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!_ - - “Deal kindly with Him, moon and sun; - No bird to Him a song deny; - Ye winds and showers every one - _Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby_-- - For men shall cast Him out to die ... - _La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!_” - - - - -A GARDEN ENCLOSED - - - There is a plot where all the winds are still, - A hidden garden where no voice is heard, - Only a splashing fountain and the shrill - Sweet clamour of a bird. - - The poplars guard like tall, grave sentinels - Its peace inviolate; and in the tower - With careful ritual ring out the bells - The end of each dead hour. - - Laburnums, hollyhocks and roses run - By secret paths--but who shall burst the bars? - Oh, who shall see--except the curious sun - And all the peering stars?... - - And Thou and Thou, my Love, for whom I keep - My heart a watered garden, all Thine own, - Where flowers my guardian angel tends in sleep, - Bright summer blooms, are grown! - - Come, my Belovèd, come--behold, the skies - Are fragrant with the evening scents and dew: - My soul hath sickened for Thy lips and eyes, - And laden is with rue! - - Oh, Thou shalt fly with soft wings like a dove’s - And hold me fast beyond all fate and fear, - And we ’mid flowers shall tell our flowering loves - Where no one else can hear! - - - - -THE LOVER - - - An hour ago I saw Thee ride in gold - Along the burning highways of the skies; - And now--Thou comest with soft and suppliant eyes, - And fearing lest Thy love seem overbold. - - In this dear garden set with flower and tree, - My soul, a maiden whom a great king woos, - Stands thrilled and silent--Lord, what can she choose, - Dumbfounded by Thy strange humility? - - Since Thou wilt have it so, my Lord, I bare - In love and shamefastness my soul--Thy soul-- - So lay Thy tender hand, an aureole, - Upon my beating heart, my chrismed hair. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Theodore Maynard - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 55079-0.txt or 55079-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/0/7/55079/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i8 {display: block; margin-left: 7em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i11 {display: block; margin-left: 9.5em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.iq {display: block; margin-left: -.45em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - -.pagenum {font-style:normal;position:absolute; -left:95%;font-size:55%;text-align:right;color:gray; -background-color:#ffffff;font-variant:normal;font-style:normal;font-weight:normal;text-decoration:none;text-indent:0em;} -@media print, handheld -{.pagenum - {display: none;} - } -</style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Theodore Maynard - -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/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Theodore Maynard - -Contributor: Gilbert Keith Chesterton - -Release Date: July 9, 2017 [EBook #55079] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif, Bryan Ness 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> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="336" height="500" alt="[Image -of the book's cover unavailable.]" /></a> -</div> - -<p class="cb">P O E M S</p> - -<p class="c" style="border:4px double black;padding:.5em; -margin:auto auto;max-width:8em;font-size:120%;"><a href="#CONTENTS">Contents</a></p> - -<div class="bbox"> - -<h1>POEMS</h1> - -<p class="cb"> -<small><span class="smcap">By</span></small><br /> -THEODORE MAYNARD<br /> -<br /> -WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY<br /> -G. K. CHESTERTON<br /> -<br /><br /><br /> -TORONTO<br /> -McCLELLAND AND STEWART, <span class="smcap">Ltd.</span><br /> -PUBLISHERS<br /> -</p> - -</div> - -<div class="bcopy"> -<p class="c"><small> -<i>Copyright, 1917, 1918, by Daniel E. Hudson; Copyright, 1917, -1918, by The Sisters of Mercy; Copyright, 1917, 1919, by The -Missionary Society of St. Paul the Apostle in the State of New -York.</i><br /> -———<br /> -<i>Copyright, 1919, by</i><br /> -<span class="smcap">Frederick A. Stokes Company</span><br /> -———<br /> -<i>All Rights Reserved</i><br /> -<br /> -<span class="smcap">Printed in U. S. A.</span></small> -</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v"></a>{v}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TO" id="TO"></a>TO<br /><br /> -MY WIFE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanzaital"> -<span class="i0">We two have seen with our own eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s multitudinous disguise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waylaid Him in His voyaging<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the buttercups of Spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In valleys where the lilies shone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More glorious than Solomon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We met a poet passing by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And learned his lyric—you and I!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanzaital"> -<span class="i0">But oh! did kindly Heaven not bless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our lives with more than loveliness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, cast on every sapling-rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was seen the motley of our God;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When having picked our way with craft<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up cliffs to hear Him when He laughed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We felt, uplifted on the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His folly blown into our mind?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanzaital"> -<span class="i0">What doubt can touch us? We have heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The baby laughter of the Word!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We mingle with solemnity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Catholic note of revelry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In hypostatic union.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From love’s carved choir-stalls we con<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plain-song of the Breviary<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Illumined by hilarity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For as each cleansing sacrament<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To our soul’s comforting was sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Through water and oil and wheat and wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing to human the divine),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So shall we find on lovers’ lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The splendour of apocalypse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the body’s five gates come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To all the good of Christendom.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vi" id="page_vi"></a>{vi}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanzaital"> -<span class="i0">We have no fear that we shall lose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This joyous Gospel of good news,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For our symbolic love has stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By virtue of its fortitude—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing a bitter Lenten fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Satan discomforted at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bowed back scalding with great scars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gethsemane of tears and stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A journey of the cross, and ah,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its part and lot in Golgotha!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanzaital"> -<span class="i0">We know—let the marvellous thing be said!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s resurrection from the dead ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For as Magdalen came with cinnamon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And aloes to smear Love’s limbs upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But met alone on the Easter grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s Lord, though she wist not Who He was—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So we, till He spoke as He spoke to her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mistook Him for the gardener.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>April 14th, 1918.</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vii" id="page_vii"></a>{vii}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="NOTE" id="NOTE"></a>NOTE</h2> - -<p>This edition of Theodore Maynard’s poems represents the author’s own -selection of such of his published verse as he wishes included in a -permanent collection. With few omissions, it represents the contents of -the three volumes issued in Great Britain under the titles, “<i>Laughs and -Whifts of Song</i>,” 1915; “<i>Drums of Defeat</i>,” 1917; “<i>Folly</i>,” 1918, none -of which has hitherto been published in this country.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ix" id="page_ix"></a>{ix}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ON_THEODORE_MAYNARDS_POEMS" id="ON_THEODORE_MAYNARDS_POEMS"></a>ON THEODORE MAYNARD’S POEMS</h2> - -<p class="nind"><span class="smcap">In</span> the case of any poet who has caught and held our recollection, there -is generally a particular piece of work which remains in our mind, not -as the crown, but as the key. And ever since I saw in <i>The New Witness</i> -some lines called “A Song of Colours,” by Theodore Maynard, they have -remained to me as a sort of simplification, or permanent element, of the -rest of the poet’s writings; and I have felt him especially as a poet of -colour. They are not by any means the best of his lines. They are -direct, as is appropriate to a ballad; and they have none of the fine -whimsicality or the frank humour to be found elsewhere in his work. -Among these others the choice is hard: but I should say that the finest -poetry as such is to be found in the images, and even in the very title, -of “The World’s Miser”: and even more in the poem called “Apocalypse.” -In this latter the poet imagines a new world which shall be supernatural -in the strongest sense of the word; that of being more vivid and -positive than the natural; and not (as it is so often imagined) more -tenuous and void.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Or what empurpled blooms to oust the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or what strange grass to glow like angels’ hair!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">The last line has the touch of the true mystic, which changes a thing -and yet leaves it familiar. True artistic pugnacity, a thing that -generally goes with true artistic pleasure, is well-expressed in the -shrewd lines of the poem printed as a sequel to another poem called “To -a Good Atheist.” The sequel is called “To<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_x" id="page_x"></a>{x}</span> a Bad Atheist,” with the -charming explanation: “Who wrote what he called a trinity of meek -retorts to the preceding poem, which were not meek, but full of pride -and abominable heresy.” He describes the bad atheist’s mind as -containing nothing but sawdust, sun and sand; which is accurate and -exhaustive. And in so far as poetry appeals to particular temperaments, -I myself find enjoyment expecially in the part of the collection -properly to be called “Laughs”; in the ballads of feasting and -fellowship; and especially in that sublime absolution gravely offered to -the Duke of Norfolk.</p> - -<p>But the sentiment of colour still ran like a thread through the whole -texture; and I think there is hardly a poem that does not repeat it. And -this is important; because the whole of Mr. Maynard’s inspiration is -part of what is the main business of our time: the resurrection of the -Middle Ages. The modern movement, with its Guild Socialism and its -military reaction against the fatalism of the Barbarian, is as certainly -drawing its life from the lost centuries of Catholic Europe, as the -movement more commonly called the Renaissance drew its life from the -lost languages and sculptures of antiquity. And, by a quaint -inconsistency, Hellenists and Neo-Pagans of the school of Mr. Lowes -Dickinson will call us antiquated for gathering the flowers which still -grow on the graves of our mediæval ancestors, while they themselves will -industriously search for the scattered ashes from the more distant pyres -of the Pagans.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xi" id="page_xi"></a>{xi}</span></p> - -<p>And the visible clue to the Middle Ages is colour. The mediæval man -could paint before he could draw. In the almost startling inspiration -which we call stained glass, he discovered something that is almost more -coloured than colour; something that bears the same relation to mere -colour that golden flame does to golden sand. He did not, like other -artists, try in his pictures to paint the sun; he made the sun paint his -pictures. He mixed the aboriginal light with the paints upon his -palette. And it is this translucent actuality of colour which I feel in -the phraseology of this writer, in a way it is not easy to analyse. We -can only say that when he says—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Among the yellow primroses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He holds His summer palaces”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">we have an impression, which it is the object of all poetry to produce. -It can only be described by saying that a primrose by the river’s brim a -<i>yellow</i> primrose is to him, and it could not possibly be anything more. -And this almost torrid directness and distinctness of tint is again -connected with another quality of the poet and his poetic tradition: -what many would call asceticism alternating with what many would call -buffoonery. The colour conventions of the Middle Ages were copied very -beautifully by the school of Rossetti and Swinburne. But they lost the -exuberance of the Gothic and became a pattern rather than a plan; -chiefly because they were not seriously inspired by any of the -enthusiasms of the Middle Ages. Its<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xii" id="page_xii"></a>{xii}</span> decorative repetitions sometimes -became quite dreary and artificial; as in Swinburne’s unfortunate -couplet about the lilies and languors of virtue and the raptures and -roses of vice. A little healthy gardening would have taught Swinburne -that it takes quite as much virtue to grow a rose as to grow a lily. It -might also have taught him that virtue is never languid, whatever else -it may be: and that even lilies are not really languid so long as they -are alive. If such decadents want an image of what it really is that -holds up the heads of lilies or any other growing things, I can refer -them to a couplet in this little volume, which is more beautiful and -more original and means a great deal more—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What wilful trees of any spring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than your young body are more fair?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="nind">These lines contain a principle of life and mark the end of a pagan -sterility. They contain the secret, not of gathering rosebuds while we -may, but of growing them when we choose.</p> - -<p class="r">G. K. Chesterton.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xiii" id="page_xiii"></a>{xiii}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary=""> - -<tr><th><a href="#LAUGHS_AND_WHIFTS_OF_SONG">LAUGHS AND WHIFTS OF SONG</a></th></tr> -<tr><td> </td><td><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_SONG_OF_COLOURS"><span class="smcap">A Song of Colours</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_003">3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CECIDIT_CECIDIT_BABYLON_MAGNA"><span class="smcap">Cecidit, Cecidit Babylon Magna</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_005">5</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#APOCALYPSE"><span class="smcap">Apocalypse</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_007">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GHOSTS"><span class="smcap">Ghosts</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_009">9</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PROCESSIONAL"><span class="smcap">Processional</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_010">10</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_SONG_OF_LAUGHTER"><span class="smcap">A Song of Laughter</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_012">12</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BALLADE_IN_PRAISE_OF_ARUNDEL"><span class="smcap">Ballade in Praise of Arundel</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_013">13</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_TRAMP"><span class="smcap">The Tramp</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_015">15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_WORLDS_MISER"><span class="smcap">The World’s Miser</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_017">17</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#EASTER"><span class="smcap">Easter</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_019">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_GLORY_OF_THE_ORIFLAMME"><span class="smcap">The Glory of the Oriflamme</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_020">20</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_GOOD_ATHEIST"><span class="smcap">To a Good Atheist</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_021">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_A_BAD_ATHEIST"><span class="smcap">To a Bad Atheist</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_023">23</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PALM_SUNDAY"><span class="smcap">Palm Sunday</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_025">25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WHEN_I_RIDE_INTO_THE_TOWN"><span class="smcap">When I Ride into the Town</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_027">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#REQUIEM"><span class="smcap">Requiem</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_029">29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AVE_ATQUE_VALE"><span class="smcap">Ave Atque Vale</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_030">30</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ALADDIN"><span class="smcap">Aladdin</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_031">31</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ADAM"><span class="smcap">Adam</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_032">32</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_ENGLISH_SPRING"><span class="smcap">The English Spring</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_033">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_THE_CRIB"><span class="smcap">At the Crib</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_035">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_MYSTIC"><span class="smcap">The Mystic</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_037">37</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_ANY_SAINT"><span class="smcap">To Any Saint</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_039">39</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SUNSET_ON_THE_DESERT"><span class="smcap">Sunset on the Desert</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_040">40</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xiv" id="page_xiv"></a>{xiv}</span></td></tr> - -<tr><th><a href="#FOLLY">FOLLY</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FOLLY1"><span class="smcap">Folly</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_043">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SHIPS"><span class="smcap">The Ships</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_045">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LAUGHTER"><span class="smcap">Laughter</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_047">47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#VOCATION"><span class="smcap">Vocation</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_049">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BLINDNESS"><span class="smcap">Blindness</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_050">50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DRINKING_SONG"><span class="smcap">Drinking Song</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_052">52</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THREE_TRIOLETS"><span class="smcap">Three Triolets</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_054">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_NEW_CANTERBURY_TALE"><span class="smcap">A New Canterbury Tale</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_056">56</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM_F_H_M"><span class="smcap">In Memoriam F. H. M.</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_062">62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_THE_IRISH_DEAD"><span class="smcap">To the Irish Dead</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_063">63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#JOHN_REDMOND"><span class="smcap">John Redmond</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_064">64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BEAUTY1"><span class="smcap">Beauty</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_065">65</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FAITHS_DIFFICULTY"><span class="smcap">Faith’s Difficulty</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_067">67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHRISTMAS_ON_CRUSADE"><span class="smcap">Christmas on Crusade</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_069">69</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_ASCETIC"><span class="smcap">The Ascetic</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_071">71</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SONNET_FOR_THE_FIFTH_OF_OCTOBER"><span class="smcap">Sonnet for the Fifth of October</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_075">75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WARFARE"><span class="smcap">Warfare</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_076">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TREASON"><span class="smcap">Treason</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_077">77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THERE_WAS_AN_HOUR"><span class="smcap">There was an Hour</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_078">78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#NOCTURNE"><span class="smcap">Nocturne</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_079">79</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PRIDE"><span class="smcap">Pride</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_080">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BALLADE_OF_SHEEP_BELLS"><span class="smcap">Ballade of Sheep Bells</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_082">82</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BALLADE_OF_A_FEROCIOUS_CATHOLIC"><span class="smcap">Ballade of a Ferocious Catholic</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DAWN"><span class="smcap">Dawn</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_086">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SUNSET"><span class="smcap">Sunset</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_087">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PEACE"><span class="smcap">Peace</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_088">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CARRION"><span class="smcap">Carrion</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_089">89</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BUILDING_OF_THE_CITY"><span class="smcap">The Building of the City</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_091">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#EDEN_RE-OPENED"><span class="smcap">Eden Re-opened</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_093">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_HOLY_SPRING"><span class="smcap">The Holy Spring</span></a><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xv" id="page_xv"></a>{xv}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_095">95</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#VIATICUM"><span class="smcap">Viaticum</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_097">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PUNISHMENT"><span class="smcap">Punishment</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_098">98</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AFTER_COMMUNION"><span class="smcap">After Communion</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_099">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_UNIVERSAL_MOTHER"><span class="smcap">The Universal Mother</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_BOASTER"><span class="smcap">The Boaster</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_102">102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#UNWED"><span class="smcap">Unwed</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WED"><span class="smcap">Wed</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_105">105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ENGLAND"><span class="smcap">England</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_106">106</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LYRIC_LOVE"><span class="smcap">Lyric Love</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_108">108</a></td></tr> - -<tr><th><a href="#DRUMS_OF_DEFEAT">DRUMS OF DEFEAT</a></th></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_FOOL"><span class="smcap">The Fool</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#DON_QUIXOTE"><span class="smcap">Don Quixote</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IRELAND"><span class="smcap">Ireland</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_MEMORIAM"><span class="smcap">In Memoriam</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_119">119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#MATER_DESOLATA"><span class="smcap">Mater Desolata</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_STIRRUP_CUP"><span class="smcap">The Stirrup Cup</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_121">121</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_ENSIGN"><span class="smcap">The Ensign</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_122">122</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BALLADE_OF_ORCHARDS"><span class="smcap">Ballade of Orchards</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_124">124</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_GREAT_WIND"><span class="smcap">A Great Wind</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BIRTHDAY_SONNET"><span class="smcap">Birthday Sonnet</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_128">128</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SILENCE"><span class="smcap">Silence</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_YELVERTON"><span class="smcap">At Yelverton</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_JOY_OF_THE_WORLD"><span class="smcap">The Joy of the World</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_132">132</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#GRATITUDE"><span class="smcap">Gratitude</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_135">135</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#IN_DOMO_JOHANNIS"><span class="smcap">In Domo Johannis</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_139">139</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AT_WOODCHESTER"><span class="smcap">At Woodchester</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_140">140</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FOR_THEY_SHALL_POSSESS_THE_EARTH"><span class="smcap">“For They Shall Possess the Earth”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_142">142</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#BALLADE_OF_THE_BEST_SONG_IN_THE_WORLD"><span class="smcap">Ballade of the Best Song in the World</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TAIL-PIECE"><span class="smcap">Tail-piece</span></a></td><td><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xvi" id="page_xvi"></a>{xvi}</span></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_146">146</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AVE"><span class="smcap">Ave</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_147">147</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_REPLY"><span class="smcap">A Reply</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_149">149</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#JOB"><span class="smcap">Job</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_151">151</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SOIL_OF_SOLACE"><span class="smcap">The Soil of Solace</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_153">153</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_THE_DEAD"><span class="smcap">To the Dead</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_154">154</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SPRING_1916"><span class="smcap">Spring, 1916</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_156">156</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_RETURN"><span class="smcap">The Return</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_157">157</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FULFILMENT"><span class="smcap">Fulfilment</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_158">158</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#PROPHECY"><span class="smcap">Prophecy</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_159">159</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SINGER_TO_HIS_LADY"><span class="smcap">The Singer to His Lady</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_160">160</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CERTAINTIES"><span class="smcap">Certainties</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FEAR"><span class="smcap">Fear</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHARITY"><span class="smcap">Charity</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_163">163</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SIGHT_AND_INSIGHT"><span class="smcap">Sight and Insight</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_164">164</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHRISTMAS_CAROL"><span class="smcap">Christmas Carol</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_166">166</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_GARDEN_ENCLOSED"><span class="smcap">A Garden Enclosed</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_167">167</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_LOVER"><span class="smcap">The Lover</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_169">169</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<h1>POEMS</h1> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LAUGHS_AND_WHIFTS_OF_SONG" id="LAUGHS_AND_WHIFTS_OF_SONG"></a>LAUGHS AND WHIFTS OF SONG</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span> </p> - -<h3><a name="A_SONG_OF_COLOURS" id="A_SONG_OF_COLOURS"></a>A SONG OF COLOURS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span><b>OLD</b> for the crown of Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blue for the sea and sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green for the woods and meadows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where small white daisies lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And red for the colour of Christ’s blood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When He came to the cross to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These things the high God gave us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And left in the world He made—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold for the hilt’s enrichment,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And blue for the sword’s good blade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And red for the roses a youth may set<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the white brows of a maid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Green for the cool, sweet gardens<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which stretch about the house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the delicate new frondage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The winds of Spring arouse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And red for the wine which a man may drink<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With his fellows in carouse.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blue and green for the comfort<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tired hearts and eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And red for that sudden hour which comes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With danger and great emprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And white for the honour of God’s throne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the dead shall all arise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gold for the cope and chalice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For kingly pomp and pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And red for the feathers men wear in their caps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When they win a war or a bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And red for the robe which they dressed God in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the bitter day He died.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CECIDIT_CECIDIT_BABYLON_MAGNA" id="CECIDIT_CECIDIT_BABYLON_MAGNA"></a>CECIDIT, CECIDIT BABYLON MAGNA!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> aimless business of your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your swinging wheels and piston rods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smoke of every sullen street<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have passed away with all your Gods.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For in a meadow far from these<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A hodman treads across the loam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bearing his solid sanctities<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To that strange altar called his home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I watch the tall, sagacious trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turn as the monks do, every one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The saplings, ardent novices,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turning with them towards the sun,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That Monstrance held in God’s strong hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burnished in amber and in red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God, His Own priest, in blessing stands;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The earth, adoring, bows her head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The idols of your market place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your high debates, where are they now?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your lawyers’ clamour fades apace—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A bird is singing on the bough!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Three fragile, sacramental things<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Endure, though all your pomps shall pass—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A butterfly’s immortal wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A daisy and a blade of grass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="APOCALYPSE" id="APOCALYPSE"></a>APOCALYPSE</h3> - -<p class="c"> -“And I saw a new heaven and a new earth: for the first<br /> -heaven and the first earth were passed away.”—<span class="smcap">Apoc.</span>. xxi, <span class="smcap">I</span>.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span><b>HALL</b> summer woods where we have laughed our fill;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall all your grass so good to walk upon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each field which we have loved, each little hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be burnt like paper—as hath said Saint John?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then not alone they die! For God hath told<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How all His plains of mingled fire and glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His walls of hyacinth, His streets of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His aureoles of jewelled light shall pass,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That He may make us nobler things than these,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in her royal robes of blazing red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adorn His bride. Yea, with what mysteries<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And might and mirth shall she be diamonded!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And what new secrets shall our God disclose;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or set what suns of burnished brass to flare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or what empurpled blooms to oust the rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or what strange grass to glow like angels’ hair!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What pinnacles of silver tracery,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What dizzy rampired towers shall God devise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of topaz, beryl and chalcedony<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make Heaven pleasant to His children’s eyes!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in what cataclysms of flame and foam<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall the first Heaven sink—as red as sin—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When God hath Cast aside His ancient home<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As far too mean to house His Children in!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="GHOSTS" id="GHOSTS"></a>GHOSTS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span><b>OME</b> dismal nights there are when spirits walk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who lived and died unhappy in their time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To waste the air with vows and whispered talk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tarnished love or hate or secret crime—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now the moon moves splendid through the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The night is brilliant like a silver shield;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in their cavalcades come riding by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mighty dead of many a tented field.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On this one night at least of all the year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lists are set again, the lines are drawn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again resounds the clang of horse and spear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sweet applause of ladies, till the dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes glad the souls of vizored knights—then they,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hearing that seneschal, the cock, all troop away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PROCESSIONAL" id="PROCESSIONAL"></a>PROCESSIONAL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span><b>EE</b> how the plated gates unfold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How swing the creaking doors of brass!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With drums and gleaming arms, behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Christ’s regal cohorts pass!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall Christ not have His chosen men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor lead His crested knights so tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Superb upon their horses, when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The world’s last cities fall?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, no! These few, the maimed, the dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The saints of every lazar’s den,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth’s off-scourings—they come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From desert and from fen<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To break the terror of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Black dreams and dreadful mysteries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And proud, lost empires in their might,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And chains and tyrannies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There ride no gold-encinctured kings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the potentates of earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God chooses all the weakest things,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gives Himself in birth<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With beaten slaves to draw His breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sleeps with foxes on the moor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With malefactors shares His death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tattered and worn and poor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See how the plated gates unfold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How swing the creaking doors of brass!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Victorious in defeat—behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Christ and His cohorts pass!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_SONG_OF_LAUGHTER" id="A_SONG_OF_LAUGHTER"></a>A SONG OF LAUGHTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> stars with their laughter are shaken;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The long waves laugh at sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the little Imp of Laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laughs in the soul of me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know the guffaw of a tempest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mirth of a blossom and bud—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I laugh when I think of Cuchulain<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> who laughed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the Crows with their bills in his blood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mother laughs low at her baby,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bridegroom with joy in his bride—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I think that Christ laughed when they took Him with staves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the night before He died.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p class="fecha"><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> Pronounced Cuhúlain.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BALLADE_IN_PRAISE_OF_ARUNDEL" id="BALLADE_IN_PRAISE_OF_ARUNDEL"></a>BALLADE IN PRAISE OF ARUNDEL</h3> - -<p class="c"> -(Made after a walk through Surrey and Sussex.)<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span><b>’VE</b> trudged along the Pilgrims’ Way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And from St. Martha’s Hill looked down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er Surrey woods and fields which lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Green in the sunlight. On the crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Hindhead and the Punchbowl’s brink<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of no good thing I’ve been bereaven:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Arundel’s the place for drink—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The pubs keep open till eleven.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">White chalk-cliffs and the stubborn clay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are thrown about, and many a town<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breaks on the sight like breaking day;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But after all, who but a clown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could Arundel with Midhurst link,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where men go dry from two till seven?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In <i>Arundel</i> (no truth I’ll shrink)<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The pubs keep open till eleven.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A great cool church where men can pray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Secure from misbelieving frown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the Square, I beg to say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The beer is strong and rich and brown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some poor, misguided people think<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Petworth’s the spot that’s nearest Heaven:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In <i>Arundel</i> the ale-pots clink—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The pubs keep open till eleven.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><i>L’Envoi</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Duke, at the dreadful Judgment Day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your soul will surely be well shriven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For then all angel trumps shall bray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>He kept pubs open till eleven!</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_TRAMP" id="THE_TRAMP"></a>THE TRAMP</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span><b>Y</b> brothers stay in cities<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To gather shame and gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I am for the highway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wind upon the wold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They take the train each morning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To a dull, bricked-up place;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I trudge the living country<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the sunlight on my face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know no home or shelter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No bed but good green grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any friends but hedgerows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To greet me as I pass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But though the road still calls me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To places wild and steep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I find the going heavy;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My eyes are full of sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fields lie all about me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The trees are gay with sap—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I go weary, weary<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To my great mother’s lap,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To rest me with my mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The kindly earth so brown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Lord! But well contented<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll lay my carcase down.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_WORLDS_MISER" id="THE_WORLDS_MISER"></a>THE WORLD’S MISER</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> <b>MISER</b> with an eager face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees that each roseleaf is in place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He keeps beneath strong bolts and bars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The piercing beauty of the stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The colours of the dying day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hoards as treasure—well He may!—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And saves with care (lest they be lost)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dainty diagrams of frost.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He counts the hairs of every head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And grieves to see a sparrow dead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Among the yellow primroses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He holds His summer palaces,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sets the grass about them all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To guard them as His spearmen small.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He fixes on each wayside stone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mark to shew it as His Own,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And knows when raindrops fall through air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether each single one be there,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That gathered into ponds and brooks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They may become His picture-books,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To shew in every spot and place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The living glory of His face.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="EASTER" id="EASTER"></a>EASTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span><b>MONG</b> the gay, exultant trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the green and growing grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clothed in immortal mysteries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see His living body pass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The catkins fling abroad His name,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While birds from every bush and spray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strain feathered necks, and tipped with flame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hills all stand to greet His day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each violet and bluebell curled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wakes with the dead Christ’s waking eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like burst gravestones clouds are hurled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across the wide and waiting sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And drenched, for very height of mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With clean white tears of April rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Mary Magdalene the earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Finds April’s risen Lord again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_GLORY_OF_THE_ORIFLAMME" id="THE_GLORY_OF_THE_ORIFLAMME"></a>THE GLORY OF THE ORIFLAMME</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> glory of the Oriflamme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or strange, red flowers of the South<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold no such splendours as lie hid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In your sweet mouth!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The secret honey of the Cliff,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lure and laughter of the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are not the dear delight that is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your face to me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What wilful trees of any spring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than your young body are more fair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What glamour of forgotten gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lurks in your hair?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The glory of the Oriflamme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or strange, red flowers of the South<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold no such splendours as lie hid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In your sweet mouth!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TO_A_GOOD_ATHEIST" id="TO_A_GOOD_ATHEIST"></a>TO A GOOD ATHEIST</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HAT</b> you can keep your crested courage high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hopeless hope without a cause, and wage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Christ’s warfare, lacking all the panoply<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Faith which shall endure the end of age,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You must be made of finely tempered stuff,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And have a kinship with that Spanish saint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who wrote of his soul’s night—it was enough<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That he should drag his footsteps tired and faint<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Along his God-appointed pathway. You<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have stood against our day of bitter scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When loudly its triumphant trumpets blew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Contempt of all God’s poor. Had you been born<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But in the time of Jeanne or Catharine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose charity was as a sword of flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With those who drank up martyrdom like wine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had stood your aureoled and ringing name.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, when that secret day of God shall break<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With strange and splendid justice through the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When last are first, then star-ward you shall take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The praise and sorrow of your starry eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TO_A_BAD_ATHEIST" id="TO_A_BAD_ATHEIST"></a>TO A BAD ATHEIST</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanzaital"> -<span class="i0">who wrote what he called a trinity of meek retorts to the preceding<br /></span> -<span class="i0">poem, which were not meek, but full of pride and<br /></span> -<span class="i0">abominable heresy<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span><b>OU</b> do not love the shadows on the wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or mists that flee before a blowing wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Gothic forests, or light aspen leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or skies that melt into a dreamy sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the hot, glaring noontide of your mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(I have your word for it) there is no room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For anything save sawdust, sun and sand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No monkish flourishes will do for you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your life must be set down in black and white.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The quiet half-light of the abbey close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cunning carvings of a chantry tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaden windows pricked with golden saints—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these are nothing to your ragtime soul!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, since you are a solemn little chap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In spite of all your blasphemy and booze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dreadful sword of satire which you shake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hurts no hide but your own,—you cannot use<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A weapon which is bigger than yourself.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet some there were who rode all clad in mail,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With crosses blazoned on their mighty shields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roland who blew his horn against the Moor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Richard who charged for Christ at Ascalon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Louis a pilgrim with his chivalry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Blessed Jeanne who saved the crown of France—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pah! you may keep your whining Superman!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PALM_SUNDAY" id="PALM_SUNDAY"></a>PALM SUNDAY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> grey hairs of Caiaphas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall know the truth to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For kingly, riding on an ass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Truth has come his way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">(<i>A thornbush grows upon the hill,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And Golgotha is empty still!</i>)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Caiaphas waxes eloquent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On tittle and on jot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when they cry “Hosanna!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Caiaphas answers not.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">(<i>A thornbush grows upon the hill,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And Golgotha is empty still!</i>)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the temple of Caiaphas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stand two gold seraphim—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They do not worship Christ nor shout<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the grey stones shout for Him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">(<i>A thornbush grows upon the hill,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And Golgotha is empty still!</i>)<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The vestments of Caiaphas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gold and silver shone—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They would get soiled if he cast them down<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the ass to walk upon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">(<i>A thornbush grows upon the hill,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And Golgotha is empty still!</i>)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The religion of Caiaphas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is very spick and span,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It does not love the ill-bred mob,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The homespun Son of Man!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">(<i>A thornbush grows upon the hill,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And Golgotha is empty still!</i>)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dark soul of Caiaphas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is full of sin and pride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It does not know the splendour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the triumph of that ride!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">(<i>A thornbush grows upon the hill,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And Golgotha is empty still!</i>)<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WHEN_I_RIDE_INTO_THE_TOWN" id="WHEN_I_RIDE_INTO_THE_TOWN"></a>WHEN I RIDE INTO THE TOWN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> I go riding into the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I ride into the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fill my skin at the nearest inn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I ride into the town.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, what is there then to trouble about?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There are no such things as despair and doubt—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For when ale goes in the truth comes out,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I ride into the town!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I go riding out of the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I ride out of the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have my men behind me then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I ride out of the town;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Halberd, battle-axe, culverin, bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Four hundred strong as out we go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Four hundred yeomen to meet the foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I ride out of the town!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I ride into the Town of Death—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That strange and unknown town!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It will not be all <i>cap-à-pie</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But with sword and lance laid down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then may our Lady beside me stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saint Michael guard at my good right hand—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God rest my soul and the souls of my band,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When we ride into the Town!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="REQUIEM" id="REQUIEM"></a>REQUIEM</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> my last song is sung and I am dead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laid away beneath the kindly clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set a square stone above my dreamless head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sign me with the cross and signing say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Here lieth one who loved the steadfast things<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of his own land, its gladness and its grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stubbled fields, the linnets’ gleaming wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The long, low gables of his native place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its gravelled paths, and the strong wind that rends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The boughs about the house, the hearth’s red glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The surly, slow good-fellowship of friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The humour of the men he used to know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all their swinging choruses and mirth”—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then turn aside and leave my dust in earth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AVE_ATQUE_VALE" id="AVE_ATQUE_VALE"></a>AVE ATQUE VALE!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span><b>Y</b> friends, I may no longer ride with you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bear a sword in your brave company,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or follow our poor tattered flag which knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No shame or slur—or any victory.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But this at least, with courage and with mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We starveling poets and enthusiasts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have shirked no battle for the stricken earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against its tyrants’ spears and arbalests.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though I go to guard another sign,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These things, please God, shall stand and never slip—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(O friends of mine, O splendid friends of mine!)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Honour and Freedom and Goodfellowship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On which and on your ragged chivalry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I always think with proud humility.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ALADDIN" id="ALADDIN"></a>ALADDIN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HOUGH</b> worlds all melt away in mist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Heavens’ slender filament,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The orange and the amethyst,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are left me—and I am content!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stand serene amid the shocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upheavals, cataclysmic dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The binding fires, the falling rocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The withering of life and lust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This little burnished lamp I hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has shattered the eternities;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glamour of all unknown gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ancient puissance of the seas,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sunlight and the love of God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are Cast in chains beneath my feet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For at my first behest this sod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Becomes a cosmos, new, complete,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Instinct with unimagined power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In colour radiant pole to pole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sudden glory of an hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The epic moment of my soul!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ADAM" id="ADAM"></a>ADAM</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>SAW</b> a red sky boding woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gleam of an eternal sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heard the voice that bid me go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the green garden of the Lord.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I knew the prick of Destiny,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The scorn of the relentless stars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very grass looked down on me—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The first of all the Avatars!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each flower seemed to see my shame;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each bird as though insulted flew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before my hateful face—my name<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was blown about the whole world through!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Even my house with its red roof,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear as it is, looks strange and odd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My garden beds are more aloof<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From me than is my angry God!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_ENGLISH_SPRING" id="THE_ENGLISH_SPRING"></a>THE ENGLISH SPRING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>LOVE</b> each inch of English earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I love each stone upon the way—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether in Winter’s sullen dearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the soil is trodden into clay—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Autumn ripeness, or the mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a Summer’s day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Something peculiar to our land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is hid in even the greyest sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When stiff and stark the tall trees stand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wind is high.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But this one season of our year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is so peculiarly an English thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the woolly catkins first appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yellow burgeoning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the little coppice here—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This native Spring<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Which comes to us so suddenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blown over the hills from the fruitful South;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of the laughter of the laughing sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She comes with singing mouth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cool, sweet Wiltshire meadows lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With buttercups from end to end;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In secret woods are small blooms, shy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bluebells the good gods send.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no cloud that wanders by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But is my friend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now the gorse is gold again;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The violet hides beneath the leaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And quickened by thin April rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The debonair young sapling weaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His coat of lightest green; again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Birds chirp at the eaves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each hidden brook and waterfall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each tiny daisy in the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calls to my heart—the hedgerows all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So full of twigs, they call, each one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with insistent voices call<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The roads where the wild flowers run.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O set with grass and the English hedge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are the long, white roads which wind and wind—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roads which reach to the world’s edge,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the world is left behind.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_THE_CRIB" id="AT_THE_CRIB"></a>AT THE CRIB</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span><b>GAIN</b> the royalties are shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disdiademed the kingly head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lies again—ah, very small!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the cattle in the stall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in His slender mother’s arms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is snuggled up from baby harms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Tower of Ivory leans down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Paradise’s topmost crown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The House of Gold on earth takes root;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Jesse comes a saving shoot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Mary gives (O manifold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her courtesies!) that we may hold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our little Lord’s poor fragile hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feet, the guerdon of all lands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No fool need fail to enter in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The guarded Heaven we strive to win,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or miss upon a casual street<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fiery impress of His feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But touch with every stone and sod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The extended fingers of our God,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see in twigs of the stiff hedgerows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in the woods where quiet grows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the naked Winter trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand times these mysteries:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The branching arms with Christly fruit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thorns which bruise His head and foot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No more with silver shrilly blown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He treads a conqueror, but, flown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With swift and silent whitening wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He comes enwrapped in baby things.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our God adventures everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the cool and Christmas air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And setteth still His candid star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Mary and her baby are!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_MYSTIC" id="THE_MYSTIC"></a>THE MYSTIC</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> all my long and weary work is done<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Toiling both soon and late, by candle-light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sewing and sewing while my eyes can see)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lay my glasses by and watch the walls—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plaster off in patches, stained with smoke—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Melt as a hoary mist and flee away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then through the splendour of the evening skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along its star-lit paths, past pearl-white clouds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hasten till I reach the region where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s holy city like a virgin keeps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its spotless tryst, forever night and day.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I do not linger here, but take my way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Him who sits among the Seraphim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And He who knows I am a poor old wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With naught of wit or wealth that I can bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that my hands are hardened by my toil—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees that ’tis I that need Him most of all.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, God will have the music hushed (for I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Am growing somewhat deaf) and we will talk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of many things, as friend may talk with friend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, I have looked, and in the dear Lord’s face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(More lined with care than any earthly man’s)<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seen that He suffers too, and understands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How hard and late I work to keep the wolf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outside my door, and bring my children up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To serve Him always, and to keep them clean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In body, heart and mind....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i11">At the sun’s call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Working with all my strength from early dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the long day, and then by candle-light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sewing on buttons while my eyes can see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know the glory of God’s gracious face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at His touch my weary hands grow strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearing His voice my heart is glad and gay.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TO_ANY_SAINT" id="TO_ANY_SAINT"></a>TO ANY SAINT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span><b>EFORE</b> the choirs of angels burst to song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In night and loneliness your way you trod—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O valiant heart, O weary feet and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There are no easy by-paths unto God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Darkness there was, thick darkness all around;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor spoken word, nor hand to touch you knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But One who walked the self-same stony ground<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shared your dereliction there with you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O valiant heart! O fixed, undaunted will!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While all the heavens hung like brass above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You faltered not, but steadfast journeyed still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the road of sainthood to your Love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And was not it reward exceeding great<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To kiss at last with passionate lips His side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His hands, His feet? O pomp! O regal state!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O crown of life He gives unto His bride!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lovers there are with roses chapleted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But more than theirs is your Lord’s loveliness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your Love is crowned with thorns upon His head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pain and sorrow woven is His dress.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SUNSET_ON_THE_DESERT" id="SUNSET_ON_THE_DESERT"></a>SUNSET ON THE DESERT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span><b>S</b> some priest turns, his ritual all done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stretching hands above the kneeling crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who rapt and silent, wait with heads all bowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the last holy words of benison—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Now God be with thee, ever Three in One”—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So turns the sun, though all reluctantly.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One thrilling moment comes to shrub and tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Expectant stillness falls; then dark and dun<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The silhouettes of sphinx and pyramid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gaze at the last deep amber after-glow;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The little stars peep down between the palms;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the ghosts that garish daylight hid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are quickened—Isis with the breasts of snow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And Antony with Egypt in his arms.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="FOLLY" id="FOLLY"></a>FOLLY</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span> </p> - -<h3><a name="FOLLY1" id="FOLLY1"></a>FOLLY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span><b>HALL</b> I not wear my motley<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flaunt my bladder of green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the earls and the bishops<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the laughing king and queen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though hunger is in my belly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And jests my lips between?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Men listen a moment idly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the foolishness I sing—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But my words are sharp and bitter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In savour and in sting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And harder than mail in battle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the heavy maces swing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For full of the sap of folly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grow the branches of the Creed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fine adventurous folly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God gave us in our need,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When He yielded up to scornful death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The human brows that bleed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They nailed the son of Mary<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On a gibbet straight and tall;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the eagles of the Roman<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were struck in Cæsar’s hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the veil of the Holy of Holies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was rent in the temple wall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wiser than sage or prophet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the pedant of the school,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than lord or abbot or priest or prince<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who over the nations rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are the cap and bells and the motley<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the laughter of the fool!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>February 12th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SHIPS" id="THE_SHIPS"></a>THE SHIPS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> bending sails shall whiten on the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Guided by hands and eyes made glad for home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With graven gems and cedar and ebony<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From Babylon and Rome.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For here a lover cometh as to his bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there a merchant to his utmost price—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, hearts will leap to see the good ships ride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Safely to Paradise!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this that cuts the waves with brazen prow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath heard the blizzard groaning through her spars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Battered with honour swings she nobly now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Back from her bitter wars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And that doth bring her silver work and spice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Peacocks and apes from Tarshish, and from Tyre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great cloaks of velvet stiff with gold device,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Coloured with sunset fire....<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And one, serenely through the golden gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall sail and anchor by the ultimate shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, plundered of her gold by pirate Fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still keeps her richer store<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unrifled when her perilous journey ends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the strong cable holds her safe again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughter and memories and the songs of friends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the sword edge of pain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>June 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LAUGHTER" id="LAUGHTER"></a>LAUGHTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span><b>H</b>, not a poet lives but knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The laughing beauty of the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heyday humour of the noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The solemn smiling of the moon,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When night, as happy as a lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doth kiss and kiss the earth, and cover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His face with all her tender hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet bride and bridegroom everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mothers, who so softly sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon their babies’ slumbering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know joy upon their lips, and laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Joy’s heels that comes tumbling after.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But who shall shake his sides to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sacred laughter, fraught with fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That laughter strange and mystical—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hero laughing in his fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whene’er a man goes out alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is thrown and is not overthrown?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fates shall never bow the head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That irony hath comforted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor thrust him down with shameful scars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who towers above the reeling stars.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus God, Who shaketh roof and rafter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of highest heaven with holy laughter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who made fantastic, foolish trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadow the floors of tropic seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where finny gargoyles, goggle-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grin monstrously beneath the tide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who made for some titanic joke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the acorn grow the oak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From buried seed and riven rocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brings death and life—a paradox!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who breaks great Kingdoms, and their Kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the knees of helpless things....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So flesh the Word was made Who gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His body to a human grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While devils gnashed their teeth at loss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see Him triumph on the cross....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus God, Who shaketh roof and rafter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of highest heaven with holy laughter!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>October 14th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="VOCATION" id="VOCATION"></a>VOCATION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HOUGH</b> God has put me in the world to praise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each beetle’s burnished wing, each blade of grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To track the manifold and marvellous ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereon His bright creative footsteps pass;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To glory in the poplars’ summer green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To guard the sunset’s glittering hoard of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To gladden when the fallen leaves careen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fairy keels upon the windy wold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For this, for this, my eager mornings broke,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For this came sunshine and the lonely rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this the stiff and sleepy woods awoke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every hawthorn hedge along the lane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For this God gave me all my joy of verse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I might shout beneath exultant skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And meet, as one delivered from a curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pardon and the pity in your eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BLINDNESS" id="BLINDNESS"></a>BLINDNESS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span><b>PEN</b> the casement! From my room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perched high upon this dizzy spire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My blinded eyes behold the bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of gardens in their golden fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh deep, mysterious recompense—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time static to my ardent gaze!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No longer mortal veils of sense<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Conceal the blissful ray of rays!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fantastic forests toss their heads<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For my immortal youth; on grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brighter than jewels do the reds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of riotous summer roses pass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I traffic in abysmal seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dive for pearls and coloured shells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, over seaweeds tall as trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The waters boom like tenor bells;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where bearded goblin-fish and sharks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With fins as large as eagles’ wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throw phosphorescent trails of sparks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which glitter on drowned Spaniards’ rings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From star to star I pilgrimage,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Undaunted in ethereal space;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laugh because the sun in rage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shoots harmless arrows at my face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For even if the skies should flare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In God’s last catastrophic blaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My happy, blinded eyes would stare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only upon the ray of rays.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>January 20th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DRINKING_SONG" id="DRINKING_SONG"></a>DRINKING SONG</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> Horace wrote his noble verse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His brilliant, glowing line,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He must have gone to bed the worse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For good Falernian wine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No poet yet could praise the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In verse that so serenely flows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unless he dipped his Roman nose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In good Falernian wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><i>Shakespeare and Jonson too</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Drank deep of barley brew—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Drank deep of barley brew, my boys,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Drank deep of barley brew!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Alexander led his men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the Persian King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He broached a hundred hogsheads, then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They drank like anything.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They drank by day, they drank by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when they marshalled for the fight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each put a score of foes to flight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They drank like anything!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><i>No warrior worth his salt</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>But quaffs the mighty malt—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>But quaffs the mighty malt, my boys,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>But quaffs the mighty malt!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Patrick into Ireland went<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The works of God to do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was his excellent intent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To teach men how to brew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The holy saint had in his train<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man of splendid heart and brain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A brewer was this worthy swain—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To teach men how to brew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><i>The snakes he drove away</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Were teetotallers they say—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Teetotallers they say, my boys,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Teetotallers they say!</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>September 30th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THREE_TRIOLETS" id="THREE_TRIOLETS"></a>THREE TRIOLETS</h3> - -<h4>I<br />OF AN IMPROBABLE STORY</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>HEARD</b> a story from an oak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I was walking in the wood—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, of the stupid human-folk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard a story from an oak.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though larches into laughter broke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hardly think I understood.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard a story from an oak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I was walking in the wood.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II<br />OF DEPLORABLE SENTIMENTS</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>WOULDN’T</b> sell my noble thirst<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For half-a-dozen bags of gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d like to drink until I burst.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wouldn’t sell my noble thirst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For lucre filthy and accurst—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such treasures <i>can’t</i> be bought and sold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wouldn’t sell my noble thirst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For half-a-dozen bags of gold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span></p> - -<h4>III<br /> -OF LOVE AND LAUGHTER</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You scattered joy about my way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And filled my lips with love and laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In white and yellow fields of May<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You scattered joy about my way.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though Winter come with skies of grey<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And grisly death come stalking after,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You scattered joy about my way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And filled my lips with love and laughter.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_NEW_CANTERBURY_TALE" id="A_NEW_CANTERBURY_TALE"></a>A NEW CANTERBURY TALE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span><b>N</b> Italie a mony yeer ago<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There lived a little childë Catharine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With yongë, merrie hertë clere as snow.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From hir first youthful hour she did entwyne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roses both whyt and reed—Godis columbine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was. And for hir holy gaiety<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was by hir neighbours clept Euphrosyne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ech stepp she took upon hir fadirs staires,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kneeling she did an Ave Mary say;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ful devocioun she seid hir prayers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere that she wentë forth ech day to play;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our Blessid Queen was in hir thought alway—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our Modir Mary whose humility<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath raiséd hir to hevinës magesté.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When only sevin was this childës age<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She vowed hirself to sweet virginity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forsweering eny erthly marriáge,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That she the clenë bride of Crist schuld be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who on the heavy cross ful cruelly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Jewës nailéd, hevin to open wide—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crist for hir husëbond, she Cristës bride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Swich was the litle innocentes intent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hirself unspotted from the world to kepe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Al hidden in hir fadirs hous she went.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whether in waking or in purë sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She builded hir a closë cellë deep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Lordë Cristë colde walk with hir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hold alway His sweetë convers there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So ful she was of gentil charity,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She diddë tend upon the sick ech day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To beggars in their grete necessity<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She gave hir cloke and petticoat away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To no poor wightë did she sayë nay—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when reprovéd merrily she spoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“God loveth Charity more than my cloke.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An oldë widow lay al striken sore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With leprosé, that dreed and foul disease;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to hir (filléd to the hertë core<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With love of God) that she schuld bring hir ease<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did Catharine come, nor did hit hir displese<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she schuld wash the woundës tenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bind hem up for Goddës charity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though the pacient waxéd querulous,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blessid seintë wearied neer a whit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For hir upbrading tong so slanderous,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor even when upon hir handës lit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The leprosé corrupt and foul—for hit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is nothing to the shamë Goddë bore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When nailes and speares His smoothë flesch y-tore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now behold a woundrous miracle!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For al that Seintë Catharine colde do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hir pacient died and was y-carried wel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto hir gravë by stout men and true.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When they upon hir corse the cloddës threw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then new as eny childës gan to shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shrivvelled handes of holy Catharine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There livéd there a youth clept Nicholas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who made in that citee seditioun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Causing a gretë riot in that place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So that the magistratës of the toun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hent him and cast him in a strong prisoun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thilkë wightë they anon did try,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for his sin condemnéd him to die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Catharine y-waxéd piteous<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see him brought unto this sorry case,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And went to him unto the prisoun hous<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To move his soul to Jhesu Cristës grace.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So yong he was and fresh and faire of face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hir hertë movéd was as to a son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he by hir sweet, gracious wordes was won.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That for his deth he made a good accord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And was y-shriven wel of his assoyl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with a humble soul received our Lord<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the prestes hands. His hertë that did boil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But little whyles ago—was freed from toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fixéd on our Lordës precious blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which for our sak He spilléd on the rood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when he came to executioun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No feer had he nor eny bitter care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But walked among the guardës thurgh the toun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In joy so hye as if he trod on air.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seint Catharine she was y-waiting there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cheer his soul against the dreedful end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When unto God his soul at last most wend.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there thilke holy virgin welcomed him;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Come, Nicholas,” she said, “my sonnë deere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boul of glorious life is at the brim—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, Nicholas—your nuptials are neer;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bridegroom calleth, be you of good cheer.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whyl they madë redy, on hir brest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She kept the hed of Nicholas at rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when that al in ordre had been set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She stretchéd out his nekkë tenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“This day your soulës bridegroom shal be met.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hark! how He calleth, sweet and winsomely.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Nicholas spak to hir ful of glee—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Jhesu” and “Catharine” the wordes he seid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then fel the ax and severed off his hed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And even as his bloody hed did fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She caught hit in her lap and handës faire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor reckéd that the blood was over al<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hir robës, but she kissed hit sitting there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And smoothéd doun the rough and ragged hair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God wot that gretë peace was in hir herte<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Nicholas in hevin had found his part.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O holy Catharine, pray for us then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be to our soules a modir and a frend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We are poor wandering and sinful men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And al unstable through the world we wend.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pray for us, Catharine, unto the end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That filléd with thy gretë charity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Goddës love we schuldë live and die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_MEMORIAM_F_H_M" id="IN_MEMORIAM_F_H_M"></a>IN MEMORIAM F. H. M.<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">Killed in Action, April 9th, 1917</span></small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HOUGH</b> now we see, as through the battle smoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The image of your young uplifted face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surprised by death, and broken as it broke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hearts of those who loved your eager grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your noble air and magnanimity—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A summer perfect in its flowers and leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brave promises of fruitfulness to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which now no hand may bind in goodly sheaves—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No hand but God’s.... Yet your remembered ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your eyes alight with gentleness and mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lovely honour of your shortened days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A new grave gladness on the furrowed earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall sow for us, a new pride wide and deep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we shall see the corn—and reap, and reap.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TO_THE_IRISH_DEAD" id="TO_THE_IRISH_DEAD"></a>TO THE IRISH DEAD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span><b>OU</b> who have died as royally as kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have seen with eyes ablaze with beauty, eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor gold nor ease nor comfort could make wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glory of imperishable things.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Despite your shame and loneliness and loss—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your broken hopes, the hopes that shall not cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Endure in dreams as terrible as peace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your naked folly nailed upon the cross<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Has given us more than bread unto our dearth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And more than water to our aching drouth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though death has been as wormwood in your mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your blood shall fructify the barren earth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>August 11th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="JOHN_REDMOND" id="JOHN_REDMOND"></a>JOHN REDMOND</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span><b>HALL</b> it be told in tragic song and story<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of two who went embittered all their days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two lovely Queens divided in their ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until their hearts grew hard, their tresses hoary?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or shall the flying wings of oratory<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of him who bore a great hope on his face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bring from the grave reunion to the grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That men call Ireland and to England’s glory?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Courageous soul, not yet the work is ended:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The perfect pact you never lived to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The peace between the warring sisters mended<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must of your patient labours come to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in a noise of trumpets loud and splendid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Gael hears blown the name of liberty.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>March 8th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BEAUTY1" id="BEAUTY1"></a>BEAUTY</h3> - -<h4>I<br />(<i>RELATIVE</i>)</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span><b>OW</b> many are the forms that beauty shows;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To what dim shrines of sweet, forgotten art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She calls; on what wide seas her strong wind blows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The proud and perilous passion of the heart!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How many are the forms of her decay;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blood that stains the dying of the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love and loveliness that pass away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like roses’ petals scattered one by one.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But there shall issue through the ivory gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid a mist of dreams, one dream-come-true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty immortal, mighty of estate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The beauty that a poet loved in you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The goodness God has set as aureole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the naked meekness of your soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>July 22nd, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BEAUTY2" id="BEAUTY2"></a>BEAUTY</h3> - -<h4>II<br />(<i>ABSOLUTE</i>)</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HO</b> shall take Beauty in her citadel?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her gates will splinter not to battering days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her slender spires can bear the onslaught well.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall any track her through her secret ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To snare the pinions of the golden bird?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A feather falling through the jewelled air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the echo of a lovely word—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nowhere her being is, and everywhere.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But one may come at last through many woes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pain and hunger to his resting place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The watered garden of the Mystic Rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The contemplation of the Bruisèd Face—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The quest of all his wild, adventurous pride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, seeing Beauty, shall be satisfied.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>July 29th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FAITHS_DIFFICULTY" id="FAITHS_DIFFICULTY"></a>FAITH’S DIFFICULTY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Not these appal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul tip-toeing to belief:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The ribald call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last black anguish of the thief;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">The fellowship<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of publican and Pharisee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The harlot’s lip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passionate with humility;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Or the feet kissed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By her who was the Magdalen—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The sensualist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is one among a world of men!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Oh, I can look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon another’s drama; read<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As in a book<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Things unrelated to my need;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Give faith’s assent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that abysmal love outpoured—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But why was rent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy seamless coat for <i>me</i>, dear Lord?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Why didst Thou bow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy bleeding brows for <i>my</i> heart’s good?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">How shall I now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reach to the mystic hardihood<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Where I can take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For personal treasure all Thy loss,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When for my sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My sake, Thou didst endure the cross?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">For my soul’s worth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was “It is finished!” loudly cried?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For me the birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sorrows of the Crucified?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>February 16th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHRISTMAS_ON_CRUSADE" id="CHRISTMAS_ON_CRUSADE"></a>CHRISTMAS ON CRUSADE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span><b>ERE</b> shall we bivouac beneath the stars;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gather the remnant of our chivalry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the crackling fires, and nurse our scars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And speak no more as fools must, bitterly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The roads familiar to His feet we trod;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We saw the lonely hills whereon He wept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prayed, agonised—dear God of very God!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And watched the whole world while the whole world slept.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We speak no more in anger; Christian men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our armies rolled upon you, wave and wave:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But crooked words and swords, O Saracen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can only hold what they have given—a grave!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We know Him, know that gibbet whence was torn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pardon that a felon spoke on sin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is more life in His dead crown of thorn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than in your sweeping horsemen, Saladin!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We speak no more in anger, we will ride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Homeless to our own homes. His bruised head<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had never resting place. Each Christmas-tide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blossoms the thorn and we are comforted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, of the sacred cradle of our creed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We are despoiled; the kindly tavern door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is shut against us in our utmost need—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We know the awful patience of the poor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We speak no more in anger, for we share<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His homelessness. We will forget your scorn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bells are ringing in the Christmas air;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God homeless in our homeless homes is born.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_ASCETIC" id="THE_ASCETIC"></a>THE ASCETIC</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> <b>WILD</b> wind blows from out the angry sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the clouds are tossed like thistle-down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the groaning branches of the trees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For on this steel-cold night the earth is stirred<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To shake away its rottenness; the leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are shed like secret unremembered sins<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the great scourge of the great love of God....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere I was learned in the ways of love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I looked for it in green and pleasant lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In apple orchards and the poppy fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And peered among the silences of woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And meditated the shy notes of birds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But found it not.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Oh, many a goodly joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of grace and gentle beauty came to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On many a clear and cleansing night of stars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I sat among my happy friends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Singing their songs and drinking of their ale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warming my limbs before their kindly hearth)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My loneliness would seize me like a pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hunger strong and alien as death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No comfort stays with such a man as I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No resting place amid the dew and dusk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose head is filled with perilous enterprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The endless quest of my wild fruitless love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But these can tell how they have heard His voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have seen His face in pure untroubled sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or when the twilight gathered on the hills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or when the moon shone out beyond the sea!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have <i>I</i> not seen them? Yet I pilgrimage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In desolation seeking after peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Learning how hard a thing it is to love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is a love that men find easily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Familiar as the latch upon the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear as the curling smoke above the thatch—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I have loved unto the uttermost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know love in the desperate abyss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dereliction and in blasphemy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fly from God to find him, fill my eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With road-dust and with tears and starry hopes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere I may search out Love unsearchable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eternal Truth and Goodness infinite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the ineffable Beauty that is God.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Empty of scorn and ceasing not to praise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meanest stick and stone upon the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I strive unto the stark Reality,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Absolute grasped roundly in my hands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bitter and pitiless it is to love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feel the darkness gather round the soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s abnegation for the sake of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see my Templed symbols’ slow decay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Become of every ravenous weed the food,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where bats beat hideous wings about the arch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ruined roof, where ghosts of tragic kings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sleek ecclesiastics come and go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the shattered pavements of my creed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet Mercy at the last shall lead me in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Bride immaculate and mystical<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tenderly guide my wayward feet to peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And show me love the likeness of a Man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Slave obedient unto death, the Lamb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slain from the first foundations of the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Word made flesh, the tender new-born Child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is the end of all my heart’s desire.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then shall my spirit, naked of its hopes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stripped of its love unto the very bone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sink simply into Love’s embrace and be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made consummate of all its burning bliss.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>August 26th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SONNET_FOR_THE_FIFTH_OF_OCTOBER" id="SONNET_FOR_THE_FIFTH_OF_OCTOBER"></a>SONNET FOR THE FIFTH OF OCTOBER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span><b>F</b> I had ridden horses in the lists,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fought wars, gone pilgrimage to fabled lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seen Pharaoh’s drinking cups of amethysts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Held dead Queens’ secret jewels in my hands—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would have laid my triumphs at your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And worn with no ignoble pride my scars....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I can only offer you, my sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The songs I made on many a night of stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet have I worshipped honour, loving you;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your graciousness and gentle courtesy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ringing and romantic trumpets blew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A mighty music through the heart of me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A joy as cleansing as the wind that fills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The open spaces on the sunny hills.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WARFARE" id="WARFARE"></a>WARFARE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> I consider all thy dignity,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy honour which my baseness doth accuse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To my own soul, thy pride which doth refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Less than the suffering thou hast given me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hope is chilled to fear. How stealthily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must I dispose my forces! With what ruse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ambush snatch the bearer of good news,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere I can escalade austerity!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Easier it were to fling the baleful lord<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the infernal legions of the Pit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To ride undaunted at that roaring horde:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But who shall armour me with delicate wit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sufficient for thine overthrow? What sword<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Win to the tower where thy perfections sit?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>March 10th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TREASON" id="TREASON"></a>TREASON</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HOU</b> hast renounced thy proud and royal state;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deserted thy strong men-at-arms who stand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Attentive to imperious command;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with a small key at the groaning gate—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet traitress!—met thine enemy. The great<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moon threw a white enchantment o’er the land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When in my hand I caught thy yielded hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laughing kissed thy laughing lips elate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For of thy queenly folly thou hast laid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sandalwood thy stiff, embroidered gown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With happiness apparelled thou hast strayed<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Incognita</i> through many a sunlit town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heedless of our uncaptained hosts arrayed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or of the flags their battles shall bring down.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>March 17th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THERE_WAS_AN_HOUR" id="THERE_WAS_AN_HOUR"></a>THERE WAS AN HOUR</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HERE</b> was an hour when stars flung out<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A magical wild melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all the woods became alive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With elfin dance and revelry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A holiday for happy hearts!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The trees shone silver in the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clapped their gleaming hands to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night like a radiant kindled noon!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For suddenly a new world woke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At one new touch of wizardry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When my love from her mirthful mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spoke words of sweet true love to me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>February 9th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="NOCTURNE" id="NOCTURNE"></a>NOCTURNE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> evening hangs her lamp above the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And calls her children to her waiting hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where pain is shed away and love and wrath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every tired head lies white and still—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear heart, will you not light a lamp for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gather up the meaning of the lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silent and luminous within your hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where peace abides and mirth and mystery?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That I may sit with you beside the fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ponder on the thing no man may guess,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your soul’s great majesty and gentleness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the last sad tongue of flame expire.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>December 21st, 1916.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PRIDE" id="PRIDE"></a>PRIDE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HO</b> having known through night a great star falling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With half the host of heaven in its wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er chaotic seas a dread voice calling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a new purple dawn of presage break,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Can hope to conquer thee, proud Son of Morning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Arrayed in mighty lusts of heart and eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With blood-red rubies set for thine adorning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sorceries wherein men’s souls grow wise?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who shall withstand the onslaught of thy chariot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who ride to battle with thy gorgeous kings?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou not count the silver to Iscariot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Tyrian scarlet and the marvellous rings?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ivory limbs and the flung festal roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The maddening music and the Chian wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are overpast when one glad heart discloses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A pride more strange and terrible than thine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That looked unsatisfied upon thy splendour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And turned, all shaken with his love, away<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To one dear face that holds him true and tender<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until the trumpets of the Judgment Day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A pride that binds him till the last fierce ember<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall fade from pride’s tall roaring pyre in hell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gentleness and grace he shall remember,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flower she gave, the love that she did tell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BALLADE_OF_SHEEP_BELLS" id="BALLADE_OF_SHEEP_BELLS"></a>BALLADE OF SHEEP BELLS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>LEFT</b> behind the green and gracious weald,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And climbing stiffly up the steep incline<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found high above each little cloistered field,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the sombre autumn woods of pine—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where gentle skies are clear and crystalline—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The place remote from dense and foolish towns;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there, where all the winds are sharp with brine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun hung out of heaven like a shield<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Emblazoned o’er with heraldry divine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I suddenly saw, as though with eyes unsealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A portent sent me for an awful sign,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fairy sea whereon the cold stars shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And standing on the sward of withered browns,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burnt by the noontide and cropped close and fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A carillon of delicate music pealed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tingled through the steeple of my spine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul was filled with loveliness and healed.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know how joy and anguish intertwine—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">But this shall greatly comfort me as wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good wine, comforts a man and sweetly drowns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The many sorrows of this heart of mine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><i>L’Envoi</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Prince, old bell-wether of an ancient line,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When you’re dead mutton I will weave you crowns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of living laurel—if on you I dine—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I heard the sheep bells ringing on the Downs!</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BALLADE_OF_A_FEROCIOUS_CATHOLIC" id="BALLADE_OF_A_FEROCIOUS_CATHOLIC"></a>BALLADE OF A FEROCIOUS CATHOLIC</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HERE</b> is a term to every loud dispute,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A final reckoning I’m glad to say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some people end discussion with their boot;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Others, the prigs, will simply walk away.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I, within a world of rank decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can face its treasons with a flaming hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Undaunted by faith’s foemen in array—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They do not ponder on the Absolute,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But wander in a fog of words astray.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They have no rigid creed one can confute,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No hearty dogmas riotous and gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But feebly mutter through thin lips and grey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Things foully fashioned out of sin and soap;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I, until my body rests in clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve often thought that I would like to shoot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The modernists on some convenient day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pull out eugenists by their noxious root;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The welfare-worker chattering like a jay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d publicly and pitilessly slay<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With blunderbuss or guillotine or rope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burn at the stake, or boil in oil, or flay—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><i>L’Envoi</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Prince, proud prince Lucifer, your evil sway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is over many who in darkness grope:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as for me, I go another way—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I drain a mighty tankard to the Pope!</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>March 2nd, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DAWN" id="DAWN"></a>DAWN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>HAVE</b> beheld above the wooded hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy tender loveliness, O Morning, break;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld the solemn gladness thou dost spill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On eyes not yet awake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But why recall unto the painful day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild passions sleeping like oblivious kings?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The broad day comes and thou dost speed away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Westward on swift wide wings!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>December 23rd, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SUNSET" id="SUNSET"></a>SUNSET</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>HAVE</b> seen death in many a varied guise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cruel and tender, rude and beautiful,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looking through windows in a young child’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stealing as soft as shadows in a pool,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Falling a sudden arrow of dismay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blown on a bugle with an iron note:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow and gentle progress of decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The taking of a strong man by the throat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have seen flowers wither and the leaf<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of lusty Summer burn to hectic red.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah! that splendid death untouched by grief:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sun with glad and golden-visaged head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Superbly standing on his deadly pyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sinking in a sea of jewelled fire!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>February 10th, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PEACE" id="PEACE"></a>PEACE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Whose lives are bound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By sleep and custom and tranquillity<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Have never found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That peace which is a riven mystery<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Who only share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The calm that doth this stream, these orchards bless,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Breathe but the air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of unimpassioned pagan quietness....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Initiate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pain burns about your head, an aureole,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Who hold in state<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The utter joy which wounds and heals the soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">You kiss the Rod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With dumb, glad lips, and bear to worlds apart<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The peace of God<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which passeth all understanding in your heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CARRION" id="CARRION"></a>CARRION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> guns are silent for an hour; the sounds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of war forget their doom; the work is done—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong men, uncounted corpses heaped in mounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are rotting in the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Foul carrion—souls till yesterday!—are these<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With piteous faces in the bloodied mire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But where are now their generous charities?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their laughter, their desire?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In each rent breast, each crushed and shattered skull<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lived joy and sorrow, tenderness and pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope, ardours, passions brave and beautiful<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among these thousands slain!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A little time ago they heard the call<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of mating birds in thicket and in brake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They wondering saw night’s jewelled curtain fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the pale stars wake....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bodies most marvellously fashioned, stark,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strewn broadcast out upon the trampled sod—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">These temples of the Holy Ghost—O hark!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These images of God!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flesh, as the Word became in Bethlehem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Houses to hold their Sacramental Lord:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swiftly and terribly to harvest them<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swept the relentless sword!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Happy if in your dying you can give<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some symbol of the Eternal Sacrificed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some pardon to the hearts of those who live—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dying the death of Christ!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="hang"> -<i>Feast of the Epiphany,<br /> -January 6th, 1917.</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_BUILDING_OF_THE_CITY" id="THE_BUILDING_OF_THE_CITY"></a>THE BUILDING OF THE CITY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I<small>,</small></span> <b>JOHN</b>, who once was called by Him in jest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Boanerges, the thunder’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who lay in tenderness upon His breast—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now that my days are done,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And a great gathering glory fills my sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would tell my children e’er I go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Him I saw with head and hair as white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As white wool—white as snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The face before which heaven and earth did flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The burnished feet, the eyes of flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The seven stars bright with awful mystery,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the Ineffable Name!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet I who saw the four dread horsemen ride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vials of the wrath of God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld a greater thing: the Lamb’s pure Bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The golden floors she trod.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How Babylon, Babylon was overthrown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And how Euphrates flowed with blood—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, but His mercy through the wide world sown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tree with healing bud!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I heard, among the hosts of Paradise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The glad new song that never tires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Lamb as it had been slain in sacrifice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enthroned amid the choirs.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">After the utmost woes have taken toll,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ravens plucked the eyes of kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s own strange peace shall come upon the soul<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On gentle, dove-like wings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Dragon cast into the voidless night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God’s city cometh from above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Built by the sword of Michael and his might,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But founded in God’s love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="EDEN_RE-OPENED" id="EDEN_RE-OPENED"></a>EDEN RE-OPENED</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span><b>O</b> man regarded where God sat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the rapt seraphic brows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And God’s heart heavy grew thereat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At man’s long absence from His house.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then from the iris-circled throne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A strange and secret word is said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And straightway hath an angel flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On wings of feathered sunlight sped,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through space to where the world shone red.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Reddest of all the stars of night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the hoar watchers of the spheres,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ashy cold to man’s dim sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And filled with sins and woes and fears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the waste weariness of years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(No laughter rippled in the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No light upon the jewelled sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky hung sullenly as brass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And men went groping tortuously.)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the stern warden of the Gate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Broke his dread sword upon his knees,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And opened wide the fields where wait<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The loveless unremembered trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sealed and silent mysteries.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the scales fell from man’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his heart woke again, as when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adam found Eve in Paradise;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And joy was made complete ... and then<br /></span> -<span class="i4">God entered in and spoke with men.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_HOLY_SPRING" id="THE_HOLY_SPRING"></a>THE HOLY SPRING</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> radiant feet of Christ now lead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dancing sunny hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ancient Earth is young again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With growing grass and warm white rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hedgerows full of flowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lilac and laburnum show<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The glory of their bud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scattered on each hawthorn spray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The snow-white and the crimson may—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The may as red as blood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bluebells in the deep dim woods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like fallen heavens lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And daffodils and daffodils<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a thousand little hills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are waving to the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The corn imprisoned in the mould<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has burst its wintry tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on each burdened orchard tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which stood an austere calvary<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The apple blossom bloom.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The kiss of Christ has brought to life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The marvel of the sod.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, joy has rent its chrysalis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To flash its jewelled wings, and is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dream of beauty and of bliss—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The loveliness of God.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>May 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="VIATICUM" id="VIATICUM"></a>VIATICUM</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span><b>EAR</b> God, not only do Thou come at last<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When death hath filled my heart with dread affright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when in gathered dark I meet aghast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mimic death that falls on me at night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The daily dying, when alone I tread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The valley of the shadow, breast the Styx,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With shrouded soul and body stiff in bed ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And no companion from the welcome pyx!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How should I face disarmed and unawares<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The phantoms of the Pit oblivion brings—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My will surrendered, mind unapt for snares,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Eyes blinded by the evil, shuddering wings,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did not the sunset stand encoped in gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For priestly offices, ’mid censers swung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with anointed thumb and finger hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The symbolled Godhead to my eager tongue?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then with my body’s trance there doth descend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Peace on my eyelids, goodness that shall keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My wandering feet, and at my side a friend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through all the winding caverns of my sleep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>August 12th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PUNISHMENT" id="PUNISHMENT"></a>PUNISHMENT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">What vengeful rod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is laid upon my bleeding shoulders?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">What scourge, O God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes known my shame to all beholders?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Through what vast skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crashes Thy wrath like shuddering thunders?<br /></span> -<span class="dotts">. . . . .</span><br /> -<span class="i6">Before my eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost display the wonder of wonders!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">As punishment<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To one whom sin should bind in prison,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Hath Mercy sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Word of the crucified arisen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Guilt’s penalty<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exacted—past my reeling reason!—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Which lays on me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love—as a whip fit for my Treason!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>March 3rd, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AFTER_COMMUNION" id="AFTER_COMMUNION"></a>AFTER COMMUNION</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span><b>OW</b> art Thou in my house of feeble flesh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Word made flesh! My burning soul by Thine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Caught mystically in a living mesh!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now is the royal banquet, now the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The body broken by the courteous Host<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who is my humble Guest—a Guest adored—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though once I spat upon, scourged at the post,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hounded to Calvary and slew my Lord!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My name is Legion, but separate and alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wash, wash, dear Crucified, my Pilate hand!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rejected Stone, be Thou my corner-stone!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like Mary at the cross’s foot I stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Magdalene upon my sins I grieve;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Thomas do I touch Thee and believe.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>December 16th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100"></a>{100}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_UNIVERSAL_MOTHER" id="THE_UNIVERSAL_MOTHER"></a>THE UNIVERSAL MOTHER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HO</b> standing thrilled in his bewilderment<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can tell thy humble ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hidden paths on which thy white feet went<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through all thy lonely days?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From what deep root the Lily of the Lord<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To grace and beauty grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in what fires was tempered the keen sword<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That pierced thy bosom through?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But we may turn and find within our hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our souls’ strange bread and wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gathered meanings of thy starry lands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where mystic roses shine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heaven’s air might grow for us too cold and tense,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her towers far and faint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did we not know thy sorrowful innocence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or soldier, singer, saint,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth’s heroes with earth’s poor not kneel and tell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their full hearts’ burdenings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To those dear eyes before which Gabriel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bent low with folded wings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101"></a>{101}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The soldier shall remember whose the heel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That crushed the serpent’s head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How mighty in thy hand hath been the steel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That dyed thy bosom red.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The singer weave for thee a cloak of light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where earth’s wild colours run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As God hath crowned thee with the stars of night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And clothed thee with the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The saint who in a cloister cool and dim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His difficult road hath kept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall think of thee whose body cloistered Him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When in thy womb He slept.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thou shalt call to thee the poor of earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To share thy joy with them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fill them with thy magnitude and mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In many a Bethlehem.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>February 4th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102"></a>{102}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_BOASTER" id="THE_BOASTER"></a>THE BOASTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span><b>F</b> the last blissful star should fade and wither,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If one by one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orion and the Pleiades Crash and Crumble;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lordly sun<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Be turned away, a beggar, all his triumphs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone down in doom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering unregarded through the cosmos,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">None giving him room.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then would I shout defiant to the whirlwinds;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Boastingly cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Go wreck the world, its towering hills and waters!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I, even I,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Whose body was flung out upon the dungheap<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With weeds to rot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still keep my soul unshaken by the ruin<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That harms me not!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“True, I have fled from many a shameful battle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did cringe and cower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before my foes, but who can ever rob me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of one great hour?”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103"></a>{103}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For joy rang through me like a silver trumpet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About my head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tiny flowers flapped in the breeze like banners<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of royal red.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And suddenly the seven deeps of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were cloven apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When love stood in your eyes and shone and trembled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within your heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>February 3rd, 1918.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104"></a>{104}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="UNWED" id="UNWED"></a>UNWED</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span><b>F</b> I go down to death uncomforted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By love’s great conquest and its great surrender,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bearing my soul along, unwed, unwed;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Your darling hands’ caresses swift and tender<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lacking upon my head, upon my lips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your lips); and in my heart love unfulfilled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in my eyes a blind apocalypse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bereft of all the glory I have willed;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall go proudly for your dear love’s sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Triumphant for brief memories, but tragic<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because of those large hopes that fail and break<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath Fate’s wizard-wand of cruel magic—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah, Fate could not touch me if I stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Completed by your love’s beatitude!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>December 15th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105"></a>{105}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="WED" id="WED"></a>WED</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>KNOW</b> the winds are rhythmical<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In unison with your footfall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know that in your heart you keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The secret of the woodland’s sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You met the blossom-bearing May—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet sister!—on the road half way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she has laid upon your hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The coloured coronal you wear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ah! the white wings of the Dove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flutter about the head I love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on your bosom doth repose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauty of the Mystic Rose,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That I must add to poetry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dark and fearful ecstasy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For in the house of joy you bless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unworthiness with holiness.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106"></a>{106}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="ENGLAND" id="ENGLAND"></a>ENGLAND</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span><b>IKE</b> some good ship that founders in the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like granite towers that crumble into dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So pass the emblems of thine empery.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But O immortal Mother and august,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ardours of English saint and bard and king<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blend simply with thy soul, even as their bones<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mingle with English soil. Their spirits sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A great song lordly as is a loud wind’s tones.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Decayed by gold and ease and loathly pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We had forgot our greatness and become<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Huckstering empire-builders, and denied<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The excellent name of freedom ... till the drum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Woke glory such as met the eyes of Drake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Alfred when he saw the heathen break!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where shall we find thee? In the avarice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That robs our brave adventures? In the shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spoiling our splendours? In the sacrifice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tears we wrung from Ireland? Nay, thy name<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107"></a>{107}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is written secretly in kindliness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the patient faces of the poor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that good anger wherewith thou didst bless<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our hearts, when beat upon the shaking door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong hands of hell.... Whether before the flood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We sink, or out of agonies reborn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Learn once again the meaning of our blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laughter and liberty—a sacred scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is ours irrevocably since we stood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And heard the barbarians’ guns across the morn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>December 24th and 26th, 1917.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108"></a>{108}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="LYRIC_LOVE" id="LYRIC_LOVE"></a>LYRIC LOVE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> kindly years have given me grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To read your spirit through;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see the starlight on your face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon your hair the dew;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To touch the fingers of your hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shining wealth they hold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find in dim and dreamy lands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That tender dusks enfold<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ancient sorrows that were sealed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hidden wells of joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The secrets that were unrevealed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To one who was a boy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then to my patient ponderings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will fruits of solace fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I have learned through many Springs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mighty and mystical,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To hear through sounds of brooks and birds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love in the leafy grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in my lyric heart your words<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bestir a lyric love.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109"></a>{109}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I shall brood, grown good and wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The truth of fairy tales,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And greet romance with gay surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In woods of nightingales.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And find, with hoary head and sage,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In songs which I have sung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meanings of the end of age—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rapture of the young!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>February 11th, 1918.</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110"></a>{110}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111"></a>{111}</span> </p> - -<h2><a name="DRUMS_OF_DEFEAT" id="DRUMS_OF_DEFEAT"></a>DRUMS OF DEFEAT</h2> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112"></a>{112}</span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113"></a>{113}</span> </p> - -<h3><a name="THE_FOOL" id="THE_FOOL"></a>THE FOOL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> <b>SHOUT</b> of laughter and of scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A million jeering lips and eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the sight of all men born<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wildest of earth’s madmen dies!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whose trust was put in empty words<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To-day is numbered with the dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-morrow crows and evil birds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall pluck those strange eyes from his head!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fellows of this country clown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are scattered (fool beyond belief!),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All blown away like thistledown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Except a harlot and a thief.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And shall he shatter fates with <i>these</i>?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(He that would neither strive nor cry)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or thunder through the Seven Seas?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or shake the stars down from the sky?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have mercy and humility<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Become unconquerable swords,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Caiaphas must tremblingly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kneel with the world’s imperial lords<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114"></a>{114}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before this crazy carpenter—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This body writhing on a rod—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And worship in that bloody hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dreadful foolishness of God?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shout of laughter and of scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A million jeering lips and eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the sight of all men born<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wildest of earth’s madmen dies!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115"></a>{115}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="DON_QUIXOTE" id="DON_QUIXOTE"></a>DON QUIXOTE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> air is valiant with drums<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And honourable the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he rides singing as he comes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With solemn, dreamy eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of swinging of the splendid swords,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crashing of the nether lords,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Hell makes onslaught with its hordes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In desperate emprise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He rides along the roads of Spain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The champion of the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whom great soldans live again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Moorish beards curled—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all their spears shall not avail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With one who weareth magic mail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This hero of an epic tale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his brave gauntlet hurled!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clangour of horses and of arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across the quiet fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Herald and trumpeter, alarms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of bowmen and of shields;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116"></a>{116}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When doubt that twists and is afraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is shattered in the last crusade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where flaunts the plume and falls the blade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cavalier wields.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Although in that eternal cause<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No liegemen gather now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or flowered dames to grant applause,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet on his naked brow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The victor’s laurels interwreath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he no dower can bequeath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But sword snapped short and empty sheath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And errantry and vow!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Against his foolish innocence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No man alive can stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any giant drive him hence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With sling or club or brand—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For where his angry bugle blows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There fall unconquerable foes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mighty men of war none knows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To stay his witless hand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All legendary wars grow tame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every tale gives place<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117"></a>{117}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the knight’s unsullied name<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And his romantic face:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, he shall break the stoutest bars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bear his courage and his scars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the whirling moons and stars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the suns of space!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118"></a>{118}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IRELAND" id="IRELAND"></a>IRELAND</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span><b>ESIDE</b> your bitter waters rise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Mystic Rose, the Holy Tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Immortal courage in your eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pain and liberty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stricken arms, the cloven shields,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The trampled plumes, the shattered drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swords of your lost battlefields<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hopeless battles come.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though your scattered remnants know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their shameful rout, their fallen kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet shall the strong, victorious foe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not understand these things:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The broken ranks that never break,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The merry road your rabble trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The awful laughter they shall take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before the throne of God.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119"></a>{119}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_MEMORIAM" id="IN_MEMORIAM"></a>IN MEMORIAM</h3> - -<p class="c"><span class="smcap">Patrick Henry Pearse</span></p> - -<p class="c"><small><i>Executed May 3rd, 1916</i></small></p> - -<p class="c"><small>R.I.P.</small></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span><b>N</b> this grey morning wrapped in mist and rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You stood erect beneath the sullen sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A heart which held its peace and noble pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A brave and gentle eye!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The last of all your silver songs are sung;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your fledgling dreams on broken wings are dashed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For suddenly a tragic sword was swung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ten true rifles crashed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By one who walks aloof in English ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be this high word of praise and sorrow said:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lived with honour all his lovely days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And is immortal, dead!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120"></a>{120}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="MATER_DESOLATA" id="MATER_DESOLATA"></a>MATER DESOLATA<br /><br /> -<small><span class="smcap">To Margaret Pearse</span></small></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>O</b> you the dreary night’s long agony,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The anguish, and the laden heart that broke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its vase of burning tears, the voiceless cry,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then the horror of that blinding stroke!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To you all this—and yet to you much more.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God pressed into the chalice of your pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A starry triumph, when the sons you bore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were written on the roll of Ireland’s slain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let no man touch your glorious heritage,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or pluck one pang of sorrow from your heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or stain with any pity the bright page<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Emblazoning the holy martyrs’ part.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ride as a queen your splendid destiny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since death is swallowed up in victory!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121"></a>{121}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_STIRRUP_CUP" id="THE_STIRRUP_CUP"></a>THE STIRRUP CUP</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span><b>RAW</b> rein; there’s the inn where the lamps show plain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we never may drink together again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the stars are lost in the slate-cold sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us drink good ale before we die<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the wind and bitter rain!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your sword is made ready upon your hip?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then once again, man, in good-fellowship!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though hunted and outlawed and fugitive<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shall drink together again if we live—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set the tankard to your lip!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Honour and death and</i>—how goes the tune?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See the clouds rift and disrobe the moon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a blood-red streak in the sullen skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And—<i>Honour and death and adventure’s eyes</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now spurs—for they’ll be here soon!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122"></a>{122}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_ENSIGN" id="THE_ENSIGN"></a>THE ENSIGN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span><b>IGH</b> up above the wooded ridge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beams out a round benignant moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the village and the bridge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through which the slumberous waters croon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now polished silver is the mill;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, clad in ghostly mysteries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The church tower glimmers on the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the sad, abiding trees;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And watched by its familiar star<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleeps each small house, so still and white—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From all the noise and blood of war,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O God, how far removed to-night!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unconscious of their destiny<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How many drew this air for breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here lived and loved ... and now they see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The terrible, swift shape of death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bounty of these quiet skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tender beauty of these lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still sheds a peace upon their eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And binds their hearts and nerves their hands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123"></a>{123}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That they who only thought to know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This valley in the moonlight furled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have heard immortal trumpets blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shake the pillars of the world!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124"></a>{124}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BALLADE_OF_ORCHARDS" id="BALLADE_OF_ORCHARDS"></a>BALLADE OF ORCHARDS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HOUGH</b> Jeshurun kicks and grows fatter and fatter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And chinks in his pockets the gold of his gain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet up in the gables the young sparrows chatter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The corn-fields are rich with the promise of grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hedges are yellow, and (balm to the brain!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their pink and white blossoms the cherry trees scatter—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The blossoming orchards of England remain!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long lines of our soldiers swing by with a clatter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To die in their thousands by river and plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In lands where the gathering loud torrents batter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They heap the hills high with heroical slain—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But far in the weald how the misty moons wane!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deep in a silence no anger can shatter<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The blossoming orchards of England remain!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The world is a fool and as mad as a hatter—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And poets and lovers were sent her for bane—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125"></a>{125}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet theirs are the ears which can catch the first patter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The prophet of all God’s abundance of rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The smell of earth earthy and wholesome again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from the drenched ground where the spent bullets spatter<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The blossoming orchards of England remain!</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><i>L’Envoi</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Princes and potentates, ye whom men flatter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Harken a moment to this my refrain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye shall pass as a dream, and it will not much matter—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The blossoming orchards of England remain!</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126"></a>{126}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_GREAT_WIND" id="A_GREAT_WIND"></a>A GREAT WIND</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> <b>GREAT</b> wind blows through the pine trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A clean salt wind from sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A loud wind full of all healing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blows kindly but boisterously;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, a good wind blows through the pine trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the heart and mind of me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A wind stirs the long grass lightly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the dear young flowers of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blows in the English meadows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The breath of a Summer’s day—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But this wind rings with honour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And is wet with the cold sea spray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are straits where the tall ships founder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And no live thing may draw breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where men look at splendid, angry skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hear what the thunder saith:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where men look their last at glory<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bravely drink of death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is much afoot this evening<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In these pine woods by the sea,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127"></a>{127}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no branch shall endure until morning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That is rotten on the tree—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any decayed thing endure in my soul<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When God’s wind blows through me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128"></a>{128}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BIRTHDAY_SONNET" id="BIRTHDAY_SONNET"></a>BIRTHDAY SONNET</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span><b>OW</b> shall I find the words of perfect praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To give you back the gladness and the mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With which you filled my hands, the lyric days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your gracious bounty gave me in my dearth?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My song fails on the wing, and yet I know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The meaning of Spring’s living ecstasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The laughing prophecy the March winds blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the buds, and through the heart of me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know, I know the rose and silver dress,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherewith God clothed that clear and virginal morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which came to you in joyful gentleness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hour of shy delight when you were born.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know the innocence and sweet surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waiting earth made ready for your eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="fecha"><i>March 27th, 1917</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129"></a>{129}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SILENCE" id="SILENCE"></a>SILENCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HOUGH</b> I should deck you with my jewelled rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And spread my songs a carpet at your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where men may see unchanged through changing time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your face a pattern in sad songs and sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I should blow your honour through the earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or touch your gentleness on gentle strings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sing abroad your beauty and your worth—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dearest, yet these were all imperfect things.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rather in lovely silence will I keep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart’s shut song no words of mine may mar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No words of mine enrich. The ways of sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And prayer and pain, all things that lonely are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All humble things that worship and rejoice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall weave a spell of silence for my voice.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130"></a>{130}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_YELVERTON" id="AT_YELVERTON"></a>AT YELVERTON</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> into Yelverton I came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I found the bracken all aflame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tors in their unyielding line,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The air as comforting as wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swinging wind, the singing sun<br /></span> -<span class="i6">At Yelverton.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At Yelverton the moor is kind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blows its healing through my mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hunchback skyline lies a mist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of purple and of amethyst,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And up and down the smooth roads run<br /></span> -<span class="i6">At Yelverton.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At Yelverton a man may stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole of Devon within his hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tors in their austerity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And far away the basking sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cloth of shining silver spun<br /></span> -<span class="i6">At Yelverton.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At Yelverton a man may keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep silence and a deeper sleep,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131"></a>{131}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet know the brave recurring dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of kingly cider, queenly cream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bless him when his days are done<br /></span> -<span class="i6">At Yelverton.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132"></a>{132}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_JOY_OF_THE_WORLD" id="THE_JOY_OF_THE_WORLD"></a>THE JOY OF THE WORLD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span><b>OR</b> your joy do the long grasses rustle, the tree-tops stir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the wind moves eagerly through the pine and the fir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alert for your coming the woods and the meadows all wait;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The buttercups grow and the turtle calls to his mate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And God for your Clothing fashioned in patience the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cloak wrought of glory and fire where dreadful dyes run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saffron and Crimson and sapphire and gold, as is meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stars to be set on your head and stars under your feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For you, His most lovely of daughters, the mighty God bowed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From heaven to give you your dowry of sunset and cloud;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133"></a>{133}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And splendid in light and in worship were Gabriel’s wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he breathed in your bosom the hope of impossible things.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sudden and dear was the secret he whispered to you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of one who should quietly fall to the earth with the dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As dew that at night in the valleys distils upon fleece,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With no shattering trump did He come but in terrible peace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In your hands that are sweeter than honey, in all the wide earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God laid the desire of the nations, their home and their mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gave to your merciful keeping man’s joy and man’s rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And under incredible skies a babe at your breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134"></a>{134}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though the stars wane and the royal deep colours should fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still shall endure in the heart and the lips of a Maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweep of the archangel’s pinions—the humble accord—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song—the dim stable—the night—and the birth of the Lord!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For your joy do the long grasses rustle, the tree-tops stir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the wind moves eagerly through the pine and the fir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alert for your coming the woods and the meadows all wait;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The buttercups grow and the turtle calls to his mate.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135"></a>{135}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="GRATITUDE" id="GRATITUDE"></a>GRATITUDE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span><b>OW</b> shall I answer God and stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My naked life within my hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To plead upon the Judgment Day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing the glory in array<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of cherubim and seraphim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What answer shall I give to Him?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was too dull of heart and sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To read His cryptic providence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its strange and intricate device<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was hidden from my foolish eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My gratitude could not reach up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the sharing of His awful cup,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the blinding light of mystery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the painful pomp of sanctity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But since as a happy child I went<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love and laughter and content<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the road of simple things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making no idle questionings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since young and careless I did keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cool and cloistered halls of sleep,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136"></a>{136}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And took my daily drink and food,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finding them very, very good—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God may perhaps be pleased to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such signs of sheer felicity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if I somehow should be given<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An attic in His storied heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’m sure I should be far apart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Catherine of the wounded heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teresa of the flaming soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Bruno’s sevenfold aureole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And be told, of course, I’m not to mix<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the Bernards or the Dominics,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or thrust my company upon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">St. Michael or the great St. John.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet God may grant it me to sit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sing (with little skill or wit)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My intimate canticles of praise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all life’s dear and gracious days—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though hardly a single syllable<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what St. Raphael has to tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The triumphs of the cosmic wars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The raptures and the jewelled scars<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137"></a>{137}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the high lords of martyrdom—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardly a word of this will come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To strike my understanding ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardly a single word, I fear!<br /></span> - -<span class="dotts">. . . . . .<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">But woe upon the Judgment Day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If my heart gladdened not at May;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor woke to hear with the waking birds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The morning’s sweet and winsome words;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor loved to see laburnums fling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their pennons to the winds of Spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor watched among the expectant grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Summer’s painted pageant pass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor thrilled with blithe beatitude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within a kindling Autumn wood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or when each separate twig did lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Etched sharp upon the wintry sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If out of all my sunny hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I brought no chaplet of their flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I gave no kiss to His lovely feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they shone as poppies in the wheat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If no rose to me were a Mystic Rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No Snow were whiter than the snows;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138"></a>{138}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">If in my baseness I let fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At once His cross and His carnival ...<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then must I take my ungrateful head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To where the lakes of Hell burn red.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139"></a>{139}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="IN_DOMO_JOHANNIS" id="IN_DOMO_JOHANNIS"></a>IN DOMO JOHANNIS</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span><b>ERE</b> rest the thin worn hands which fondled Him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The trembling lips which magnified the Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who looked upon His handmaid, the young, slim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mary at her meek tasks, and here the sword<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the soul of her whose anguished eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gazed at the stars which watch Gethsemane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw the sun fail in the stricken skies.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In these dim rooms she guards the treasury<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her white memories—the strange, sweet face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More marred than any man’s, the tender, fain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eager words, the wistful human grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mysteries of glory, joy and pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that hope tremulous, half-sob, half-song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ringing through night—“How long, O Lord, how long?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140"></a>{140}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AT_WOODCHESTER" id="AT_WOODCHESTER"></a>AT WOODCHESTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span><b>ARK</b> how a silver music falls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between these meek monastic walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And airy flute and psaltery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awaken heavenly melody!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet not to unentunèd ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May come the joyance of the spheres,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And only humbled hearts may see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The humble heart of mystery.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where tread in light and lilting ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright angels through the dance’s maze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On grassy floors to meet the just<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In robes of woven diamond dust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And jewelled daisies burst to greet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flutter of the Blessed’s feet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the cloister’s gathered gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lilies and mystic roses bloom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grown in the hush of hidden hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts fairer than the summer flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lift up their sweet and living heads,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crystalline whites and sanguine reds!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141"></a>{141}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who keep in lowly pageantry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence a lovely ceremony;<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who set a seal upon their eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Responsive only to the skies;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who in a quick obedience move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the hallowed paths of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Win at last to that secret place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adorned with the glory of God’s face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as each eve the tired sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sinks softly down, the long day done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the bosom of the west—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, even so, upon God’s breast<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each weary heart is folded deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into His arms in quiet sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sheltered safe, all warm and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the phantoms of the night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="footnote"><p class="fecha"><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> “<i>Quia silentium est pulchra caeremonia</i>”: -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ex Constitutionibus Fratrum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">S. Ordinis Prædicatorum.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142"></a>{142}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FOR_THEY_SHALL_POSSESS_THE_EARTH" id="FOR_THEY_SHALL_POSSESS_THE_EARTH"></a>“FOR THEY SHALL POSSESS THE EARTH”</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span><b>OU</b> who were beauty’s worshipper,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her ardent lover, in this place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You have seen Beauty face to face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And known the wistful eyes of her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kissed the hands of Poverty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And praised her tattered bravery.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You shall be humble, give your days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To silence and simplicity;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And solitude shall come to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The goal of all your winding ways;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When pride and youthful pomp of words<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fly far away like startled birds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Possessing nothing, you shall know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart of all things in the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their secret agonies and mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The awful innocence of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sadness of November leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joy of fields of girded sheaves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shelter from the driving rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your high renouncement of desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Food it shall be and wine and fire;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143"></a>{143}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Peace shall enter once again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As quietly as dreams in sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hidden trysting-place you keep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You shall grow humble as the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And patient as each slow, dumb beast;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And as their fellow—yea the least—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yield stoat and hedgehog room to pass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And learn the ignorance of men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the robin and the wren.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The things so terrible and sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You strove to say in accents harsh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The frogs are croaking on the marsh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crickets chirping at your feet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, they can teach you unafraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meaning of the songs you made.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till clothed in white humilities,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each happening that doth befall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each thought of yours be musical,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As wind is musical in the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When strong as sun and clean as dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your old dead songs come back to you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144"></a>{144}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="BALLADE_OF_THE_BEST_SONG_IN_THE_WORLD" id="BALLADE_OF_THE_BEST_SONG_IN_THE_WORLD"></a>BALLADE OF THE BEST SONG IN THE WORLD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>KNOW</b> a sheaf of splendid songs by heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which stir the blood or move the soul to tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of death or honour or of love’s sweet smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The runes and legends of a thousand years;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some of them go plaintively and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And some are jolly like the earth in May—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But this is <i>really</i> the best song I know:<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I sang it in a house-boat on the Dart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To several members of the House of Peers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Editor of the <i>Exchange and Mart</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">(A man of taste) stood up and led the cheers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I carolled it at Christmas in the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hummed it on my summer holiday—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doh-ray-me-fah-sol-la-fah-me-ray-doh—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It made a gathering of Fabians start<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And put their fingers in their outraged ears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They did not understand my subtle art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But though they only gave me scoffs and jeers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145"></a>{145}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sang my ditty high, I sang it low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I sang it every known (and unknown) way—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Crescendo, forte, pianissimo</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><i>L’Envoi</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Prince, if by some amazing fluke you go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To heaven, you’ll hear the shawms and citherns play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the trumpets of the angels blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>I-tiddly-iddly-i-ti-iddly-ay</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146"></a>{146}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TAIL-PIECE" id="TAIL-PIECE"></a>TAIL-PIECE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> <b>BOY</b> goes by the window while I write,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whistling—the little demon!—in delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shake my fist and scowl at him, and curse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the carcase of my murdered verse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet—which is it that the world most needs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His happy laughter or my threadbare screeds?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is more poetry in being young<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than in the finest song that Shakespeare sung—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if that’s true of godlike Shakespeare—well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whistle the Marseillaise, and ring the bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chase the cat, and lose your tennis-ball,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tear your trousers on the garden wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scalp a Red Indian, sail the Spanish seas—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do any mortal thing you damn well please.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147"></a>{147}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="AVE" id="AVE"></a>AVE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HEN</b> all the world was black<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your courage did not fail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No laughter did you lack<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or fellowship or ale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And you have made defeat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A nobler pageantry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your bitterness more sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than is their victory.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For by your stricken lips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A gallant song is sung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joy suffers no eclipse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is lyrical and young,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is rooted in the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is ambient in the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since Hope lifts up to God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The escalade of prayer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tyrants and the kings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In purple splendour ride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all ironic things<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go marching at your side<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148"></a>{148}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To nerve your hands with power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To salt your souls with scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till that awaited hour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Freedom shall be born.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149"></a>{149}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_REPLY" id="A_REPLY"></a>A REPLY</h3> - -<p class="c"> -<i>To one who said that to conceive of God as a person was to<br /> -reduce Him to our own level.</i><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span><b>H</b>, we can pierce<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the swift lightnings far and fierce;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We can behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Him in the sunset’s lucid gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet not by these<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do we read His dark mysteries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or tear apart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thick veil upon Heaven’s heart....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Kneel with the kings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before His dreadful Emptyings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see Him laid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the slender arms of a Maid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The village street<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knew God’s familiar, weary feet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The carpenter’s Son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who made the great hills one by one.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No glory slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From His sublime apocalypse—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150"></a>{150}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">His homespun dress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hunger, thirst and the wilderness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To a slave’s death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gave his broken body’s breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An outcast hung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swart and venomous thieves among.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still yields He<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Godhead to our humanity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaving for sign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Himself in the meek bread and wine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151"></a>{151}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="JOB" id="JOB"></a>JOB</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span><b>AN</b> flesh and blood contrive defence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Gainst swords that pierce the spirit through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or meet, not knowing why or whence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blind bolt crashing from the blue?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, men have held times out of mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their stern and stoic courage bright—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if no cry comes on the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How shall I face the ambushed night?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“How shall I turn to bay, and stand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To grapple, if I cannot see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My fierce assailant at my hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The high look of mine enemy?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“If He will answer me, with rod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And plague and thunder let Him come—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But how can man dispute with God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who writes no book, whose voice is dumb?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Who rings me round with prison bars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through which I peer with sleepless eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152"></a>{152}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see the enigmatic stars—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These only—in the iron skies.”<br /></span> -<span class="dotts">. . . . . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“<i>These only?</i> These together sang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the glad birthday of the earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all the courts of Heaven rang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With shouting and angelic mirth!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The night enfolds you with a cloak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of silence and of chill affright?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when man’s wells of laughter broke,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who gave man singing in the night?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The Rod shall burst to flowers and fruit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Richer than grew on Aaron’s rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Mercy clothe you head to foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beloved and smitten of your God!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153"></a>{153}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SOIL_OF_SOLACE" id="THE_SOIL_OF_SOLACE"></a>THE SOIL OF SOLACE</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> <b>MAY</b> not stand with other men, or ride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In those grey fields where fall the screaming shells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or mix my blood with blood of those who died<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To find a heaven in their sevenfold hells.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Honour and death a strident bugle blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Setting an end to death and blasphemy—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, had I any choice in it, God knows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where in this epic day I too would be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet may I keep some English heart alive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a poet’s pleasure in all English things—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good-fellowship and kindliness still thrive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In English soil; the dusk is full of wings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the river long reeds grow; and still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little house sits brooding on the hill!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154"></a>{154}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="TO_THE_DEAD" id="TO_THE_DEAD"></a>TO THE DEAD</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span><b>OW</b> lays the king his crown and sceptre down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her gown of taffeta the lovely bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The knight his sword, his cap and bells the clown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The poet all his verse’s pomp and pride—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The eloquent, the beautiful, the brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Descend reluctant to the straight, cold grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No more shall shine for them the glorious rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or sunsets stain with red and awful gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night shall no more for them her stars disclose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or day the grandeur of the Downs unfold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or those eyes dull in death watch solemnly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The regal splendour of the Sussex sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For them the ringing surges are in vain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They wake not at the cry of waking bird;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun, the holy hill, the fruitful rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The winds have called them and they have not stirred;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woods are widowed of your eager tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O dear and desolate and dungeoned dead!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_155" id="page_155"></a>{155}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet you shall rest awhile in English earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ripen many a pleasant English field<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the green Summer to the Autumn’s mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flower unconsciously upon the weald—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until that last angelic word be said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the shut graves deliver up their dead!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_156" id="page_156"></a>{156}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SPRING_1916" id="SPRING_1916"></a>SPRING, 1916</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HE</b> grey and wrinkled earth again is young<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lays aside her tattered winter weeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For April-coloured gauze, and gives her tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To jocund songs instead of pedants’ screeds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scatter the thin, white ashes of the hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And throw the brilliant diamond casement wide—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, wonder of the lonely garden garth!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, golden glory of the steep hillside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where flames the living loveliness of God!...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But far, far off, beyond the bloom and bud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fiercer blossom burgeons from the sod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bright with the hues of honour and of blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men have plucked the sanguine flower of pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where violets might be growing in the rain!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157"></a>{157}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_RETURN" id="THE_RETURN"></a>THE RETURN</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span><b>EYOND</b> these hills where sinks the sun in amber,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Imperial in purple, gold and blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I keep the garden walks where roses clamber,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set in still rows with shrub and flower and bud.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">After the clash of all the swords that sunder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After the headstrong pride of youth that fails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After the shattered heavens and the thunder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remain the summer woods and nightingales!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when the fever has died down that urges<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lips to utterance of whirling words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, blown among the winds and stormy surges,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Skim the wild sea-waves like the wild sea-birds.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when has ceased the tumult and the riot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A man may rest his soul a little space,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seek your solitary eyes in quiet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the gracious calmness of your face.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158"></a>{158}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FULFILMENT" id="FULFILMENT"></a>FULFILMENT</h3> - -<p class="c"> -(<i>An Inscription for a Book of Poems</i>)<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span><b>OU</b> who will hold these gathered songs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made, darling, long before we met,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must keep the prophecy which belongs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To those dear eyes, so strangely set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With peace and laughter, where fulfils<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rapture of my alien hills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unknown, unknown you softly trod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among my fruitful silences,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The last and splendid gift of God.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The quest of all my Odysseys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meaning of those quiet lands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I found comfort at your hands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when the yellowing woods awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And small birds’ twittered loves are told,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When streams run silver, and there break<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The crocuses to tender gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When quick light winds shall stir my hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some part of you will wander there.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159"></a>{159}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="PROPHECY" id="PROPHECY"></a>PROPHECY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span><b>Y</b> eyes look out across the dim grey wold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The grey sky and the grey druidic trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing they keep inviolate the gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Memories of summer and the prophecies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lie imprisoned in the buried seeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all the lyric gaiety of Spring....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun shall ride again his flaming steeds;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dragon-fly dance past on diamond wing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth distil to music; and the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flaunt her impassioned loveliness and be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A symbol of the singing hour that blows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tall ship and my gladness home to me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I shall cry: Awake, my heart, awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deck yourself in beauty for her sake!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160"></a>{160}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_SINGER_TO_HIS_LADY" id="THE_SINGER_TO_HIS_LADY"></a>THE SINGER TO HIS LADY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span><b>F</b> any song I sing for you should be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But made to please a poet’s vanity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A richly jewelled and an empty cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In which no hallowed wine is offered up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thing of chosen rhyme and cunning phrase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fashioned that it may bring its maker praise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If love in me grow only soft and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remembering not with what worn and weary feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It journeyed to your fields of golden grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The quiet orchards folded in the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The twilight gardens and the morning birds;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If love remembers not and brings you words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Words as your thanks; if in an idle hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It breaks its sword and plays the troubadour—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then may high God, the Universal Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Break me, as I false knight have broken my sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I who have touched your hands should bring eclipse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To love’s nobility with lying lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having seen more terrible than gleaming spears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your gentleness, your sorrow and your tears!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161"></a>{161}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CERTAINTIES" id="CERTAINTIES"></a>CERTAINTIES</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span><b>CROSS</b> the fields of unforgotten days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see the gorgeous pearl-white morning burst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through her fine gauze of dreamy summer haze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the rolling flats of Staplehurst,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bless the hours with songs of nesting birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the wild hedge rose and the apple tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laughter and the ring of friendly words,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the noon’s pageant moving languidly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I walk again with boys now grown to men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And see far off with reminiscent eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How in the tangled woods of Horsmonden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mighty sun, a blood-red dragon, dies....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some things there are as rooted as the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a man’s mind—and these shall never pass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162"></a>{162}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="FEAR" id="FEAR"></a>FEAR</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>READ</b> softly; we are on enchanted ground:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One touch and every hidden thing lies bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deep sea sundered, suddenly unbound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The awful thunders instinct in the air!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, these we know; but what if we should break<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A secret spell as easily as glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stumble on their sleeping wrath and wake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The armies and the million blades of grass?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And find more dread than whirlwinds round our head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sweep of sparrows’ fierce, avenging wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The anger of wild roses burning red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The terrible hate of earth’s most helpless things?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163"></a>{163}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHARITY" id="CHARITY"></a>CHARITY</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span><b>HO</b> think of Charity as milky-eyed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know not of God’s great handmaid’s terrible name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who comes in garments by the rainbow dyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And crowned and winged and charioted with flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For Truth and Justice ride abroad with her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Honour’s trumpets peal before her face:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The high archangels stand and minister<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she doth sit within her holy place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">None knoweth in the depth nor in the height<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What meaneth Charity, God’s secret word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But kiss her feet, and veil their burning sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before her naked heart, her naked sword.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164"></a>{164}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="SIGHT_AND_INSIGHT" id="SIGHT_AND_INSIGHT"></a>SIGHT AND INSIGHT</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HIS</b> hour God’s darkest mysteries<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are plainer than the screeds of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tangled and false philosophies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fashioned by lying tongue and pen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Plain as those bastions of cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kind as the wide and kindly skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the wild winds shouting loud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The truths concealed from pedants’ eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pages which he may read who runs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where no unlettered man may fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Candid as are his noonday suns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Familiar as his cheese and ale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Him, Whom our eyes may see, our ears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hear, Whom our groping hands may touch—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Him we shall find ere many years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And finding fear not overmuch.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who gave me simple things to keep,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laughter and love and memories,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A farm, and meadows full of sheep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quiet gardens full of bees,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165"></a>{165}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those five gateways of the soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through which all good may come to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saints glorious of aureole,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flying thunders of the sea,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And feasts, and gracious hands of friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flowers good to stroke and smell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, in the secret woods He sends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The birds their trembling joys to tell!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He, too, is every day afresh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hid and revealed in bread and wine,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The awful Word of God made flesh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mortal commingling with divine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shadows and evil dreams o’erthrown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Dagon and the gods of scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since Peace was in the silence blown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On that dear night when God was born.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166"></a>{166}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="CHRISTMAS_CAROL" id="CHRISTMAS_CAROL"></a>CHRISTMAS CAROL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span><b>AY</b> quietly Thy kingly head<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O mighty weakness from on high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God rest Thee in Thy manger-bed—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Splendour hid from every eye!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Ye mild and humble cattle, yield<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Room for my little son to lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your God and mine is here revealed—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Naked beneath a naked sky—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Deal kindly with Him, moon and sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No bird to Him a song deny;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye winds and showers every one<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby</i>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For men shall cast Him out to die ...<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!</i>”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167"></a>{167}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="A_GARDEN_ENCLOSED" id="A_GARDEN_ENCLOSED"></a>A GARDEN ENCLOSED</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span><b>HERE</b> is a plot where all the winds are still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A hidden garden where no voice is heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only a splashing fountain and the shrill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet clamour of a bird.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The poplars guard like tall, grave sentinels<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its peace inviolate; and in the tower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With careful ritual ring out the bells<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The end of each dead hour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Laburnums, hollyhocks and roses run<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By secret paths—but who shall burst the bars?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, who shall see—except the curious sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the peering stars?...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Thou and Thou, my Love, for whom I keep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart a watered garden, all Thine own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where flowers my guardian angel tends in sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bright summer blooms, are grown!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, my Belovèd, come—behold, the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are fragrant with the evening scents and dew:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul hath sickened for Thy lips and eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laden is with rue!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168"></a>{168}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, Thou shalt fly with soft wings like a dove’s<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hold me fast beyond all fate and fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we ’mid flowers shall tell our flowering loves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where no one else can hear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169"></a>{169}</span></p> - -<h3><a name="THE_LOVER" id="THE_LOVER"></a>THE LOVER</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span><b>N</b> hour ago I saw Thee ride in gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the burning highways of the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now—Thou comest with soft and suppliant eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fearing lest Thy love seem overbold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In this dear garden set with flower and tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My soul, a maiden whom a great king woos,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stands thrilled and silent—Lord, what can she choose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dumbfounded by Thy strange humility?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since Thou wilt have it so, my Lord, I bare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In love and shamefastness my soul—Thy soul—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So lay Thy tender hand, an aureole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon my beating heart, my chrismed hair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - 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