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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/6269.txt b/6269.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89d2dff --- /dev/null +++ b/6269.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1768 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook Embers, by Gilbert Parker, Volume 2. +#96 in our series by Gilbert Parker + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + +Title: Embers, Volume 2. + +Author: Gilbert Parker + +Release Date: August, 2004 [EBook #6269] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on November 21, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMBERS, BY PARKER, V2 *** + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + + + + + +EMBERS + +By Gilbert Parker + +Volume 2. + + +CONTENTS: + +DOLLY +LIFE'S SWEET WAGES +TO THE VALLEY +THE LILY FLOWER +LOVE IN HER COLD GRAVE LIES +GRANADA, GRANADA +THE NEW APHRODITE +AN ANCIENT PLEDGE +THE TRIBUTE OF KING HATH +THERE IS AN ORCHARD +HEART OF THE WORLD +EPITAPHS +THE BEGGAR +THE MAID +THE FOOL +THE FIGHTER +THE SEA-REAPERS +THE WATCHER +THE WAKING +WHEN ONE FORGETS +ALOES AND MYRRH +IN WASTE PLACES +LAST OF ALL +AFTER +REMEDIAL +THE TWILIGHT OF LOVE +IRREVOCABLE +THE LAST DREAM +WAITING +IN MAYTIME +INSIDE THE BAR +THE CHILDREN +LITTLE GARAINE +TO A LITTLE CHILD + + + + + DOLLY + + King Rufus he did hunt the deer, + With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly! + It was the spring-time of the year-- + Hey ho, Dolly shut her eyes! + King Rufus was a bully boy, + He hunted all the day for joy, + Sweet Dolly she was ever coy: + And who would e'er be wise + That looked in Dolly's eyes? + + King Rufus he did have his day, + With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly! + So get ye forth where dun deer play-- + Hey ho, Dolly comes again! + The greenwood is the place for me, + For that is where the dun deer be, + And who would stay at home, + That might with Dolly roam? + Sing hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly! + + + + + + + LIFE'S SWEET WAGES + + Who would lie down and close his eyes + While yet the lark sings o'er the dale? + Who would to Love make no replies, + Nor drink the nut-brown ale, + While throbs the pulse, and full's the purse + And all the world's for sale? + + Though wintry blasts may prove unkind, + When winter's past we do forget; + Love's breast in summer-time is kind, + And all's well while life's with us yet. + Hey ho, now the lark is mating-- + Life's sweet wages are in waiting! + + + + + + + TO THE VALLEY + + Come hither, oh come hither, + There's a bride upon her bed; + They have strewn her o'er with roses, + There are roses 'neath her head: + Life is love and tears and laughter, + But the laughter it is dead-- + Sing the way to the Valley, to the Valley- + Hey, but the roses they are red! + + + + + + + THE LILY FLOWER + Oh, love, it is a lily flower, + (Sing, my captain, sing, my lady!) + The sword shall cleave it, Life shall leave it-- + Who shall know the hour? + (Sing, my lady, still!) + + + + + + + LOVE IN HER COLD GRAVE LIES + + Love in her cold grave lies, + But that is not my love: + My love hath constant eyes, + My love her life doth prove; + That love, the poorer, dies-- + Ah, that is not my love! + + Love in her cold grave lies, + But she will wake again; + With trembling feet will rise, + Will call this love in vain, + That she doth now despise + Ah, love shall wake again! + + + + + + + GRANADA, GRANADA + + Granada, Granada, thy gardens are gay, + And bright are thy stars, the high stars above; + But as flowers that fade and are grey, + But as dusk at the end of the day + Are ye to the light in the eyes of my love-- + In the eyes, in the soul, of my love. + + Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see + My love in thy garden, there waiting for me! + Beloved, beloved, have pity and make + Not the sun shut its eyes, its hot envious eyes; + And the world in the darkness of night, + Be debtor to thee for its light. + Turn thy face, turn thy face from the skies + To the love, to the pain in my eyes. + + Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see + My love in thy garden, there waiting for me! + + + + + + + THE NEW APHRODITE + + What though the gods of the eld be dead, + Here are the mountains of azure and snow, + Here are the valleys where loves are wed, + And lilies in blow. + + Here are the hands that are lucid, sweet, + Wound at the wrist with an amber beading, + Folds of the seafoam to cover the feet, + Mortals misleading. + + Down to the opaline lips of the sea + Wander the lost ones, fallen but mighty, + Stretching out hands, crying, "Turn unto me, + O Aphrodite!" + + See where they lift up their faces and scan, + Over the wave-heaps, thy coming; despite thee, + Thou canst not fetter the soul of a man, + O Aphrodite! + + Nay, but our bodies we bend, and we give + All that the heart hath, loving, not knowing + Whether the best is to die or to live, + Coming or going. + + We shall be taken, but thou shalt live on, + Swallowed in sea-drifts that never affright thee; + Smiling, thou'lt lift up thy sweet hands alone, + Ah, Aphrodite! + + Over thy face is a veil of white sea-mist, + Only thine eyes shine like stars; bless or blight me, + I will hold close to the leash at thy wrist, + O Aphrodite! + + Rosy and proud are the skies of the East, + Love-dowered moons to enswathe thee, delight thee: + Thy days and our days--are thine then the least, + O Aphrodite? + + Thou in the East and I here in the West, + Under our newer skies purple and pleasant: + Who shall decide which is better, attest, + Saga or peasant? + + Thou with Serapis, Osiris, and Isis, + I with Jehovah, in vapours and shadows; + Thou with the gods' joy-enhancing devices, + Sweet-smelling meadows. + + What is there given us?--Food and some raiment, + Toiling to reach to a Patmian haven, + Giving up all for uncertain repayment, + Feeding the raven. + + Striving to peer through the infinite azure, + Alternate turning to earthward and falling, + Measuring life with Damastian measure, + Finite, appalling. + + What does it matter! They passed who with Homer + Poured out the wine at the feet of their idols: + Passing, what found they? To-come a misnomer, + It and their idols? + + Who knows, ah, who knows! Here in this garden, + Heliotrope, hyacinth, soft suns to light me, + Leaning out, peering, thou, thou art my warden- + Thou, Aphrodite! + + Up from the future of all things there come, + Marching abreast in their stately endeavour, + Races unborn, to the beat of the drum, + Of the Forever. + + Resting not, beating down all the old traces, + Falls the light step of the new-coming nations, + Burning on altars of our loved graces, + Their new oblations. + + What shall we know of it, we who have lifted + Up the dark veil, done sowing and reaping; + What shall we care if our burdens be shifted, + Waking or sleeping? + + Sacristan, acolyte, player or preacher, + Each to his office, but who holds the key? + Death, only death, thou, the ultimate teacher, + Will show it to me. + + I am, Thou art, and the strong-speaking Jesus, + One in the end of an infinite truth?-- + Eyes of a prophet or sphinx may deceive us, + Bearing us ruth, + + But when the forts and the barriers fall, + Shall we not find One, the true, the almighty, + Wisely to speak with the worst of us all, + O Aphrodite? + + Waiting, I turn from the futile, the human, + Gone is the life of me, laughing with youth; + Steals to learn all in the face of a woman, + Mendicant Truth. + + + + + + + + AN ANCIENT PLEDGE + + Fair be the garden where their loves may dwell, + Safe be the highway where their feet may go; + Rich be the meadows where their hands may toil, + The fountains many where the good wines flow; + Full be their harvest bins with corn and oil, + And quick their hearts all wise delights to know; + To sorrow may their humour be a foil, + Tardy their footsteps to the gate Farewell. + Deep be your cups. Our hearts the gods make light: + Drink, that their joy may never know good-night! + + + + + + + THE TRIBUTE OF KING HATH + + Oh, bring to me a cup of gold, + And bring a platter fair, + And summon forth my Captain old, + Who keeps the royal stair. + + And fetch a stoup of that rare wine + That hailed my father's fame; + And bear some white bread from the shrine + Built to my mother's name. + + Then, good my gentlemen, bring down + My robe of soft samite; + And let the royal horn be blown, + For we ride far to-night. + + Within the pleasant Vale of Loe + Beside the Sea of Var, + The Daughter of our ancient foe + Dwells where her people are. + + Tribute her fathers paid to mine-- + Young prince to elder crown; + But for a jest 'twixt bread and wine, + They struck our banner down. + + And we had foes from Blymar Hills, + From Gathan and Dagost, + And pirates from Bagol that spills + Its refuse on our coast. + + And we were girded South and North; + And there beyond the Var, + They drove our goodly fighters forth, + And dimmed our ancient star. + + Now they have passed us, home for home, + And matched us town for town; + Their daughters to our sons now come-- + Our feud it weareth down. + + Between their cups, the hill-men cry, + "The Lady of the Loe!" + The sea-kings swing their flags peak-high + Where'er her galleons go. + + Once when the forge of battle sang + 'Tween Varan and Thogeel; + And when ten thousand stirrups rang + 'Twixt girth and bloody heel, + + I saw her ride 'mid mirk and fire, + Unfearing din and death, + Her eyes upflaming like a pyre, + Her fearless smile beneath. + + Nor'land 'gainst Southland then she drove, + A million serfs to free; + The reeking shuttle lifeward wove, + Through death from land to sea. + + And perched upon the Hill of Zoom, + My gentlemen beside, + I saw the weft shake in the loom, + The revel blazon wide, + + Until a thousand companies-- + Serf-lords from out Thogeel + Their broadswords brake across their knees, + Good captives to her steel. + + And then I sware by name and crown, + And by the Holy Ghost, + When Peace should ride with pennon blown, + From Gathan to Dagost, + + Unto her kingdom I should get, + And come not back again, + Until a queen's hand I had set + Upon my bridle rein. + + Our ships now nestle at Her coast, + Her corn our garner fills; + And all is quiet at Dagost, + And on the Blymar Hills. + + And I will do a deed to bind + An ancient love once more; + My gentlemen shall ride behind, + My Captain on before; + + And we will journey forth to-night + Towards the Sea of Var, + Until the vale shall come in sight, + Where Her great cities are. + + And to the Daughter of that land, + Which once was kin to mine, + My Captain, he shall bear in hand + This sacred bread and wine. + + And he shall show her soft and fair + This peace-spread sacrament: + Her banner it shall ride the air + Upon my Captain's tent. + + And if the wine to lip she raise, + With morsel of my bread; + Then as we loved in ancient days, + These lands of ours shall wed. + + But mine the tribute. I will bring + My homage to her door, + My gentlemen behind their king, + My Captain on before. + + And we aslant will set our spears, + Our good swords dipping free; + And we will ravel back the years + For love of her and me. + + And I will prove my faith in this + As never king was proved-- + For kings may fight for what they kiss, + And die for what they loved! + + But I will bring my court afar, + My throne to hers shall go; + And I will reign beside the Var, + And in the Vale of Loe. + + The younger kingdom, it shall be + The keeper of my crown; + And she, my queen, shall reign with me + Within her own good town. + + And men shall speak me kind, shall tell + Her graces day and night + So bring my steed that serves me well, + My robe of soft samite, + + And bring me here the cup of gold, + And bring the platter fair, + And summon me my Captain old, + That keeps the royal stair. + + For well know I the way I go; + I follow but my star: + My home is in the Vale of Loe, + And by the Sea of Var. + + + + + + + THERE IS AN ORCHARD + + There is an orchard beyond the sea, + And high is the orchard wall; + And ripe is the fruit in the orchard tree-- + Oh, my love is fair and tall! + + There is an orchard beyond the sea, + And joy to its haven hies; + And a white hand opens its gate to me-- + Oh, deep are my true love's eyes! + + There is an orchard beyond the sea, + Its flowers the brown bee sips; + But the stateliest flower is all for me-- + Oh, sweet are my true love's lips! + + There is an orchard beyond the sea, + Where the soft delights do roam; + To the Great Delight I have bent my knee-- + Oh, good is my true love's home! + + There is an orchard beyond the sea, + With a nest where the linnets hide; + Oh, warm is the nest that is built for me- + In my true love's heart I bide! + + + + + + + HEART OF THE WORLD + + Heart of the World give heed, + Tongues of the World be still! + The richest grapes of the vine shall bleed + Till the greeting-cup shall spill; + The kine shall pause in the pleasant mead, + The eagle upon the hill-- + Heart of the World give heed! + + Heart of the World break forth, + Tongues of the World proclaim! + There cometh a voice from out the North + And a face of living flame-- + A man's soul crying, Behold what worth + Was life till her sweet soul came-- + Heart of the World break forth! + + Heart of the World be strong, + Tongues of the World be wise! + The White North glows with a morning song + Or ever the red sun dies; + For Love is summer and Love is long, + And the good God 's in his skies-- + Heart of the World be strong! + + + + + + + EPITAPHS + + + THE BEGGAR + + Poor as a sparrow was I, + But I was saved like a king; + I heard the death-bells ring, + Yet I saw a light in the sky: + And now to my Father I wing. + + + + THE MAID + + A little while I saw the world go by-- + A little doorway that I called my own, + A loaf, a cup of water, and a bed had I, + A shrine of Jesus, where I knelt alone + And now, alone, I bid the world good-bye. + + + + THE FOOL + I was a fool; nothing had I to know + Of men, and naught to men had I to give. + God gave me nothing; now to God I go, + Now ask for pain, for bread, + Life for my brain: dead, + By God's love I shall then begin to live. + + + + THE FIGHTER + Blows I have struck, and blows a-many taken, + Wrestling I've fallen, and I've rose up again; + Mostly I've stood-- + I've had good bone and blood; + Others went down though fighting might and main. + Now Death steps in, + Death the price of sin: + The fall it will be his; and though I strive and strain, + One blow will close my eyes, and I shall never waken. + + + + + + + THE SEA-REAPERS + + When the Four Winds, the Wrestlers, strive with the Sun, + When the Sun is slain in the dark; + When the stars burn out, and the night cries + To the blind sea-reapers, and they rise, + And the water-ways are stark-- + God save us when the reapers reap! + When the ships sweep in with the tide to the shore, + And the little white boats return no more; + When the reapers reap, + Lord, give Thy sailors sleep, + If Thou cast us not upon the shore, + To bless Thee evermore + To walk in Thy sight as heretofore, + Though the way of the Lord be steep! + By Thy grace, + Show Thy face, + Lord of the land and the deep! + + + + + THE WATCHER + + As the wave to the shore, as the dew to the leaf, + As the breeze to the flower, + As the scent of a rose to the heart of a child, + As the rain to the dusty land-- + My heart goeth out unto Thee--unto Thee! + The night is far spent and the day is at hand. + + As the song of a bird to the call of a star, + As the sun to the eye, + As the anvil of man to the hammers of God, + As the snow to the earth-- + Is my word unto Thy word--to Thy word! + The night is far spent and the day is at hand + + + + + + + THE WAKING + + To be young is to dream, and I dreamed no more; + I had smothered my heart as the fighter can: + I toiled, and I looked not behind or before-- + I was stone; but I waked with the heart of a man. + + By the soul at her lips, by the light of her eyes, + I dreamed a new dream as the sleeper can, + That the heavenly folly of youth was wise-- + I was stone; but I waked with the heart of a man. + + She came like a song, she will go like a star: + I shall tread the hills as the hunter can, + Mine eyes to the hunt, and my soul afar- + I was stone; but I waked with the heart of a man. + + + + + + + WHEN ONE FORGETS + + When one forgets, the old things are as dead things; + The grey leaves fall, and eyes that saw their May + Turn from them now, and voices that have said things + Wherein Life joyed, alas! are still to-day-- + When one forgets. + + The world was noble, now its sordid casement + Glows but with garish folly, and the plains + Of rich achievement lie in mean abasement-- + Ah, Hope is only midwife to our pains! + + When one forgets, but maimed rites come after: + To mourn, be priest, be sexton, bear the pall, + Remembrance-robed, the while a distant laughter + Proclaims Love's ghost--what wonder skies should fall, + When one forgets! + + + + + + + ALOES AND MYRRH + + Dead, with the dew on your brow, + Dead, with the may in your face, + Dead: and here, true to my vow, + I, who have won in the race, + Weave you a chaplet of song + Wet with the spray and the rime + Blown from your love that was strong-- + Stronger than Time. + + August it was, and the sun + Streamed through the pines of the west; + There were two then--there is one; + Flown is the bird from the nest; + And it is August again, + But, from this uttermost sea, + Rises the mist of my pain-- + You are set free. + + "Tell him I see the tall pines, + Out through the door as I lie-- + Red where the setting sun shines-- + Waving their hands in good-bye; + Tell him I hold to my breast, + Dying, the flowers he gave; + Glad as I go I shall rest + Well in my grave." + + This is the message they send, + Warm with your ultimate breath; + Saying, "And this is the end; + She is the bride but of death." + Is death the worst of all things? + What but a bursting of bands, + Then to the First of All Things + Stretching out hands! + + Under the grass and the snow + You will sleep well till I come; + And you will feel me, I know, + Though you are motionless, dumb. + I shall speak low overhead-- + You were so eager to hear-- + And even though you are dead, + You will be near. + + Dead, with the dew on your brow, + Dead, with the May in your face, + Dead: and here, true to my vow, + I, who have won in the race, + Weave you a chaplet of song + Wet with the spray and the rime + Blown from your love that was strong-- + Stronger than Time. + + + + + + + IN WASTE PLACES + + The new life is fief to the old life, + And giveth back pangs at the last; + The new strife is like to the old strife + A token and tear of the Past. + We change, but the changes are only + New forms of the old forms again, + We die and some spaces are lonely, + But men live in lives of new men. + + We hate, and old wrongs lift their faces, + To fill up the ranks of the new; + We love, and the early love's graces + Are signs of the false and the true; + We clasp the white hands that are given + To greet us in devious ways, + But meet the old sins, all unshriven, + To sadden the burden of days. + + Though we lose the green leaves of the first days, + Though the vineyards be trampled and red, + We know, in the gloom of our worst days, + That the dead are not evermore dead: + December is only December, + A space, not the infinite whole; + Though the hearthstone bear but the one ember, + There still is the fire of the soul. + + The end comes as came the beginning, + And shadows fail into the past; + And the goal, is it not worth the winning, + If it brings us but home at the last? + While over the pain of waste places + We tread, 'tis a blossoming rod + That drives us to grace from disgraces, + From the plains to the Gardens of God. + + + + + + + LAST OF ALL + + Wave, walls to seaward, + Storm-clouds to leeward, + Beaten and blown by the winds of the West, + Sail we encumbered + Past isles unnumbered, + But never to greet the green island of Rest. + + Lips that now tremble, + Do you dissemble + When you deny that the human is best? + Love, the evangel, + Finds the Archangel-- + Is that a truth when this may be a jest? + + Star-drifts that glimmer + Dimmer and dimmer, + What do ye know of my weal or my woe? + Was I born under + The sun or the thunder? + What do I come from, and where do I go? + + Rest, shall it ever + Come? Is endeavour + Still a vain twining and twisting of cords? + Is faith but treason; + Reason, unreason, + But a mechanical weaving of words? + + What is the token, + Ever unbroken, + Swept down the spaces of querulous years,-- + Weeping or singing-- + That the Beginning + Of all things is with us, and sees us, and hears? + + What is the token? + Bruised and broken, + Bend I my life to a blossoming rod? + Shall then the worst things + Come to the first things, + Finding the best of all, last of all, God? + + + + + + + AFTER + + Bands broken, cords loosened, and all + Set free. Well, I know + That I turned my cold face to the wall, + Was silent, strove, gasped, then there fell + A numbness, a faintness, a spell + Of blindness, hung as a pall, + On me, falling low, + And a far fading sound of a knell. + + Then a fierce stretching of hands + In gloom; and my feet, + Treading tremulous over hard sands; + A wind that wailed wearily slow, + A plashing of waters below, + A twilight on bleak lone lands, + Spread out; and a sheet + Of the moaning sea shallows aflow. + + Then a steep highway that leads + Somewhere, cold, austere; + And I follow a shadow that heeds + My coming, and points, not in wrath, + Out over: we tread the sere path + Up to the summit; recedes + All gloom; and at last + The beauty a flower-land hath. + + + + + + + REMEDIAL + + Well it has come and has gone, + I have some pride, you the same; + You will scarce put willow on, + I will have buried a name. + + A stone, "Hic Jacet"--no more; + Let the world wonder at will; + You have the key to the door, + I have the cenotaph still. + + A tear--one tear, is it much, + Dropped on a desert of pain? + Had you one passionate touch + Of Nature there had been rain. + + Purpose, oh no, there was none! + You could not know if you would; + You were the innocent one. + Malice? Nay, you were too good. + + Hearts should not be in your way, + You must pass on, and you did; + Ah, did I hurt you? you say: + Hurt me? Why, Heaven forbid! + + Inquisitorial ways + Might have hurt, truly, but this, + Done in these wise latter days, + It was too sudden, I wis. + + "Painless and pleasing," this is + No bad advertisement, true; + Painless extinction was his, + And it was pleasing-to you. + + Still, when the surgery's done + (That is the technical term), + Which has lost most, which has won? + Rise now, and truly affirm. + + You carry still what we call + (Poets are dreamy we know) + A heart, well, 'tis yours after all, + And time hath its wonders, I trow. + + You may look back with your eyes + Turned to the dead of the Past, + And find with a sad surprise, + That yours is the dead at the last. + + Seeing afar in the sands, + Gardens grown green, at what cost! + You may reach upward your hands, + Praying for what you have lost. + + + + + + + THE TWILIGHT OF LOVE + + Adieu! and the sun goes awearily down, + The mist creeps up o'er the sleepy town, + The white sails bend to the shuddering mere, + And the reapers have reaped, and the night is here. + + Adieu! and the years are a broken song, + The right grows weak in the strife with wrong, + The lilies of love have a crimson stain, + And the old days never will come again. + + Adieu! where the mountains afar are dim + 'Neath the tremulous tread of the seraphim, + Shall not our querulous hearts prevail, + That have prayed for the peace of the Holy Grail? + + Adieu! Some time shall the veil between + The things that are, and that might have been + Be folded back for our eyes to see, + And the meaning of all be clear to me. + + + + + + + IRREVOCABLE + + What you have done may never be undone + By day or night, + What I have seen may never be unseen + In my sad sight. + + The days swing on, the sun glows and is gone, + From span to span; + The tides sweep scornfully the shore, as when + The tides began. + + What we have known is but a bitter pledge + Of Ignorance, + The human tribute to an ageless dream, + A timeless trance. + + Through what great cycles hath this circumstance + Swept on and on, + Known not by thee or me, till it should come, + A vision wan, + + To our two lives, and yours would seem to me + The hand that kills, + Though you have wept to strike, and but have cried, + "The mad Fate wills!" + + You could not, if you would, give what had been + Peace, not distress; + Some warping cords of destiny had held + You in duress. + + Nay, not the Fates, look higher; is God blind? + Doth He not well? + Our eyes see but a little space behind, + If it befell, + + That they saw but a little space before, + Shall we then say, + Unkind is the Eternal, if He knew + This from alway, + + And called us into being but to give + To mother Earth + Two blasted lives, to make the watered land + A place of dearth? + + The life that feeds upon itself is mad-- + Is it not thus? + Have I not held but one poor broken reed + For both of us? + + Keep but your place and simply meet + The needs of life; + Mine is the sorrow, mine the prayerless pain: + The world is rife + + With spectres seen and spectres all unseen + By human eyes, + Who stand upon the threshold, at the gates, + Of Paradise. + + Well do they who have felt the spectres' hands + Upon their hearts, + And have not fled, but with firm faith have borne + Their brothers' parts, + + Upheld the weary head, or fanned the brow + Of some sick soul, + Pointed the way for tired pilgrim eyes + To their far goal. + + So let it be with us: perchance will come + In after days, + The benison of happiness for us + Always, always. + + + + + + + THE LAST DREAM + + One more dream in the slow night watches, + One more sleep when the world is dumb, + And his soul leans out to the sweet wild snatches + Of song that up from dreamland come. + + Pale, pale face with a golden setting, + Deep, deep glow of stedfast eyes; + Form of one there is no forgetting, + Wandering out of Paradise. + + Breath of balm, and a languor falling + Out of the gleam of a sunset sky; + Peace, deep peace and a seraph's calling, + Folded hands and a pleading cry. + + One more dream for the patient singer, + Weary with songs he loved so well; + Sleeping now--will the vision bring her? + Hark, 'tis the sound of the passing bell! + + + + + + + WAITING + + When shall I see thee again? + Weary the years and so long; + When shall be buried the wrong, + Phantom-like rising between? + Seeking for surcease of pain, + Pilgrim to Lethe I came; + Drank not, for pride was too keen-- + Stung by the sound of a name. + + Soft, ardent skies of my youth + Come to me over the sea, + Come in a vision to me, + Come with your shimmer and song; + Ye have known all of the truth, + Witness to both shall ye bear; + Read me the riddle of wrong, + Solve me the cords of the snare. + + Love is not won in a breath, + Idle, impassioned and sure; + Why should not love then endure, + Challenging doubt to the last? + True love is true till the death, + Though it bear aloes and myrrh; + Try me and judge me, O Past, + Have I been true unto her? + + What should I say if we met, + Knowing not which should forbear? + E'en if I plead would she care?-- + Sweet is the refuge of scorn. + Close by my side, O Regret + Long we have watched for the light! + Watchman, what of the morn? + Well do we know of the night. + + + + + + + IN MAYTIME + + The apple blossoms glisten + Within the crowned trees; + The meadow grasses listen + The din of busy bees; + The wayward, woodland singer + Carols along the leas, + Not loth to be the bringer + Of summer fantasies. + + But you and I who never + Meet now but for regret, + Forever and forever, + Though flower-bonds were set + In Maytime, if you wonder + That falling leaves are ours, + Yours was it cast asunder, + Mine are the faded flowers. + + The fluted wren is sobbing + Beneath the mossy eaves; + The throstle's chord is throbbing + In coronal of leaves; + The home of love is lilies, + And rose-hearts, flaming red, + Red roses and white lilies-- + Lo, thus the gods were wed! + + But we weep on, unheeding + The earth's joys spread for us; + And ever, far receding, + Our fair land fades from us: + One waited, patient, broken, + High-hearted but opprest, + One lightly took the token-- + The mad Fates took the rest. + + High mountains and low valleys, + And shreds of silver seas, + The lone brook's sudden sallies, + And all the joys of these,-- + These were, but now the fire + Volcanic seeks the sea, + And dark wave walls retire + Tyrannic seeking me. + + Spirit of dreams, a vision + Well hast thou wrought for us; + Fold high the veil Elysian, + The past held naught for us; + Years, what are they but spaces + Set in a day for me? + Lo, here are lilied places-- + My love comes back to me! + + + + + + + INSIDE THE BAR + + I knows a town, an' it's a fine town, + And many a brig goes sailin' to its quay; + I knows an inn, an' it's a fine inn, + An' a lass that's fair to see. + I knows a town, an' it's a fine town; + I knows an inn, an' it's a fine inn-- + But Oh my lass, an' Oh the gay gown, + Which I have seen my pretty in! + + I knows a port, an' it's a good port, + An' many a brig is ridin' easy there; + I knows a home, an' it's a good home, + An' a lass that's sweet an' fair. + I knows a port, an' it's a good port, + I knows a home, an' it's a good home-- + But Oh the pretty that is my sort, + What's wearyin' till I come! + + I knows a day, an' it's a fine day, + The day a sailor man comes back to town; + I knows a tide, an' it's a good tide, + The tide that gets you quick to anchors down. + I knows a day, an' it's a fine day, + I knows a tide, an' it's a good tide-- + And God help the lubber, I say, + What's stole the sailor man's bride! + + + + + + + THE CHILDREN + + Mark the faces of the children + Flooded with sweet innocence! + God's smile on their foreheads glisten + Ere their heart-strings have grown tense. + + And they know not of the sadness, + Of the palpitating pain + Drawn through arid veins of manhood, + Or the lusts that life disdain. + + Little reek they of the shadows + Fallen through the steep world's space + God hath touched them with His chrism + And their sunlight is His grace. + + And the green grooves of the meadows + They are fair to look upon; + And the silver thrush and robin + Sing most sweetly on and on. + + But the faces of the children- + They are fairer far than these; + And the songs they sing are sweeter + Than the thrushes' in the trees. + + Little hands, our God has given + All the flower-bloom for you; + Gather violets in the meadows, + Trailing your sweet fingers through. + + The swift tears that sometimes glisten + On their faces dashed with pain + Weave a rosy bow of promise, + Like the afterglow of rain. + + The soft, verdant fields of childhood, + Certes, are the softer for + The dissolving dew of morning, + Noon's elate ambassador. + + Looking skyward, do they wonder-- + They, the children palm to palm- + What is out beyond the azure + In the infinite of calm? + + Though they murmur soft "Our Father," + Angel wings to speed it on + Past the bright wheels of the Pleiads, + Have they thought of benison? + + Nay! the undefiled children + Say it bound by ignorance; + But the saying is the merit, + And the loving bans mischance. + + Oh the mountain heights of childhood, + And the waterfalls of dreams, + And the sleeping in the shadows + Of the willows by the streams! + + Toss your gleaming hair, O children, + Back in waving of the wind! + Flash the starlight 'heath your eyelids + From the sunlight of the mind! + + See, we strain you to our bosoms, + And we kiss your lip and brow; + Human hearts must have some idols, + And we shrine you idols now. + + Time, the ruthless idol-breaker, + Smileless, cold iconoclast, + Though he rob us of our altars, + Cannot rob us of the past. + + Dull and dead the gods' bright nectar, + Disencrowned of its foam; + Duller, deader far the empty, + Barren hearthstone of a home. + + Smile out to our age and give us, + Children, of the dawn's desire; + We have passed morn's gold and opal, + We have lost life's early fire. + + + + + + + LITTLE GARAINE + + "Where do the stars grow, little Garaine? + The garden of moons, is it far away? + The orchard of suns, my little Garaine, + Will you take us there some day?" + + "If you shut your eyes," quoth little Garaine, + "I will show you the way to go + To the orchard of suns and the garden of moons + And the field where the stars do grow. + + "But you must speak soft," quoth little Garaine, + "And still must your footsteps be, + For a great bear prowls in the field of the stars, + And the moons they have men to see. + + "And the suns have the Children of Signs to guard, + And they have no pity at all-- + You must not stumble, you must not speak, + When you come to the orchard wall. + + "The gates are locked," quoth little Garaine, + "But the way I am going to tell-- + The key of your heart it will open them all: + And there's where the darlings dwell!" + + + + + + + TO A LITTLE CHILD + + (M. H.) + + When you were born, my dear, when you were born, + A glorious Voice came singing from the sun, + An Ariel with roses of the morn, + And through the vales of Arcady danced one + All golden as the corn. + + These were the happy couriers of God, + Bearing your gifts: a magic all your own, + And Beauty with her tall divining rod; + While tiny star-smiths, bending to your throne, + Your feet with summer shod. + + Into my heart, my dear, you flashed your way, + Your rosy, golden way: a fairy horn + Proclaimed you dancing light and roundelay;-- + I thank my generous Fates that you were born + One lofty joyous day. + + + + + + + L'EMPEREUR, MORT + + (M. H., AGED FIVE) + + My dear, I was thy lover, + A man of spring-time years; + I sang thee songs, gave gifts and songs most poor, + But they were signs; and now, for evermore, + Thou farest forth! My heart is full of tears, + My dear, my very dear. + + My dear, I was thy lover, + I wrote thee on my shield, + I cried thy name in goodly fealty, + Thy champion I. And now, no more for me + Thy face, thy smile: thou goest far afield, + My dear, my very dear. + + My dear, I am thy lover: + Afield thy spirit goes, + And thou shalt find that Inn of God's delight, + Where thou wilt wait for us who say good night, + To thy sweet soul. The rest--the rest, God knows, + My dear, my dear! + + + + + + + PHYLLIS + + Phyllis, I knew you once when I was young, + And travelled to your land of Arcady. + Do you, of all the songs, wild songs, before you flung, + Remember mine--its buoyant melody, + Its hope, its pride; do you remember it? + It was the song that makes the world go round; + I bought it of a Boy: in scars I paid for it, + Phyllis, to you who jested at my wound. + + + + + + + BAIRNIE + + Did ye see the white cloud in the glint o' the sun? + That's the brow and the eye o' my bairnie. + Did ye ken the red bloom at the bend o' the crag? + That's the rose in the cheek o' my bairnie. + Did ye hear the gay lilt o' the lark by the burn? + That's the voice of my bairnie, my dearie. + Did ye smell the wild scent in the green o' the wood? + That's the breath o' my ain, o' my bairnie. + Sae I'll gang awa' hame, to the shine o' the fire, + To the cot where I lie wi' my bairnie. + + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EMBERS BY PARKER, V2 *** + +***** This file should be named 6269.txt or 6269.zip **** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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