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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75489 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                                 POEMS
+
+                                   ⁂
+
+                               JOSEPHINE
+
+                                 DASKAM
+
+
+
+
+                                 POEMS
+
+                                   BY
+
+                            JOSEPHINE DASKAM
+
+                             [Illustration]
+
+                                NEW YORK
+
+                        CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
+
+                               MDCCCCIII
+
+
+
+
+              COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
+
+                        PUBLISHED OCTOBER, 1903
+
+               D. B. UPDIKE, THE MERRYMOUNT PRESS, BOSTON
+
+
+
+
+                                  TO
+
+                               M. A. J.,
+
+_the first and cordial critic of many of these verses, it gives me
+great pleasure to dedicate this collection of them_.
+
+                                                                J. D. B.
+
+
+
+
+                               CONTENTS
+
+
+                                                                    PAGE
+
+MOTHERHOOD                                                             1
+
+THE SLEEPY SONG                                                        3
+
+THE GOLDEN DAYS                                                        5
+
+THE VIGIL                                                              6
+
+THE SEA MAN                                                            8
+
+THE SONS OF SLEEP                                                     12
+
+FOUR SONGS:
+
+    I. THE PEASANT GIRL                                               14
+
+   II. AN INTERLUDE                                                   15
+
+  III. HEART’S SEASONS                                                16
+
+   IV. OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY                                    17
+
+THE SAILOR’S SONG                                                     18
+
+QUATRAIN                                                              19
+
+THE OLD COUNTRY                                                       20
+
+THE LITTLE BLIND BEGGAR                                               22
+
+THE STRANGER CHILD                                                    24
+
+SONGS OF ISEULT DESERTED                                              26
+
+THE OLD CAPTIVE                                                       28
+
+SONG TO OPHELIA                                                       31
+
+A CHRISTMAS HYMN FOR CHILDREN                                         32
+
+THE GYPSY MAID                                                        34
+
+THREE SONGS:
+
+    I. THE SAILOR                                                     36
+
+   II. THE HUNTER                                                     37
+
+  III. THE PRINCE                                                     38
+
+THE LITTLE DEAD CHILD                                                 39
+
+AT PARTING                                                            42
+
+THE NIXY                                                              43
+
+A JAPANESE FAN                                                        44
+
+TWO SONNETS FROM THE HEBREW
+
+   I. THE PREPARATION                                                 45
+
+  II. THE INCARNATION                                                 46
+
+ODE: WRITTEN FOR THE TWENTY-SECOND OF FEBRUARY                        47
+
+THE DEATH SONG                                                        50
+
+SEVEN CHILD SONGS
+
+    I. DO YOU KNOW?                                                   53
+
+   II. THE SECRET PLAYMATE                                            55
+
+  III. LONELINESS                                                     56
+
+   IV. DREAMS                                                         57
+
+    V. THE SHADOW                                                     58
+
+   VI. HEAVEN                                                         60
+
+  VII. THE PEAR TREE                                                  61
+
+INSCRIPTIONS:
+
+  FOR A CHILD’S PLATE                                                 62
+
+  FOR HIS CUP                                                         62
+
+  FOR HIS CHAIR                                                       62
+
+  FOR HIS BED                                                         63
+
+THE WANDERERS                                                         64
+
+
+
+
+MOTHERHOOD
+
+
+    The night throbs on: but let me pray, dear Lord!
+    Crush off his name a moment from my mouth.
+    To thee my eyes would turn, but they go back,
+    Back to my arm beside me where he lay--
+    So little, Lord, so little and so warm!
+
+    I cannot think that thou hadst need of him!
+    He is so little, Lord, he cannot sing,
+    He cannot praise thee; all his lips had learned
+    Was to hold fast my kisses in the night.
+
+    Give him to me--he is not happy there!
+    He had not felt his life: his lovely eyes
+    Just knew me for his mother, and he died.
+
+    Hast thou an angel there to mother him?
+    I say he loves me best--if he forgets,
+    If thou allow it that my child forgets
+    And runs not out to meet me when I come--
+
+    What are my curses to thee? Thou hast heard
+    The curse of Abel’s mother, and since then
+    We have not ceased to threaten at thy throne,
+    To threat and pray thee that thou hold them still
+    In memory of us.
+
+                  See thou tend him well,
+    Thou God of all the mothers! If he lack
+    One of his kisses--Ah, my heart, my heart,
+    Do angels kiss in heaven? Give him back!
+
+    Forgive me, Lord, but I am sick with grief,
+    And tired of tears and cold to comforting.
+    Thou art wise I know, and tender, aye, and good.
+    Thou hast my child and he is safe in thee,
+    And I believe--
+
+                  Ah, God, my child shall go
+    Orphaned among the angels! All alone,
+    So little and alone! He knows not thee,
+    He only knows his mother--give him back!
+
+
+
+
+THE SLEEPY SONG
+
+
+    As soon as the fire burns red and low,
+    And the house up-stairs is still,
+    She sings me a queer little sleepy song,
+    Of sheep that go over the hill.
+
+    The good little sheep run quick and soft,
+    Their colors are gray and white:
+    They follow their leader nose to tail,
+    For they must be home by night.
+
+    And one slips over and one comes next,
+    And one runs after behind,
+    The gray one’s nose at the white one’s tail,
+    The top of the hill they find.
+
+    And when they get to the top of the hill
+    They quietly slip away,
+    But one runs over and one comes next--
+    Their colors are white and gray.
+
+    And over they go, and over they go,
+    And over the top of the hill,
+    The good little sheep run quick and soft,
+    And the house up-stairs is still.
+
+    And one slips over and one comes next,
+    The good little, gray little sheep!
+    I watch how the fire burns red and low,
+    And she says that I fall asleep.
+
+
+
+
+THE GOLDEN DAYS
+
+
+    I wonder where the Fairy-book can be,
+    The book from which she read to you and me,
+    While the warm sunlight shifted down the tree?
+
+    _And the brown eyes turned downward to the leaf,
+    Tear-spotted by two tiny people’s grief,
+    When Death bound one more princess in his sheaf._
+
+    I wonder where the Rocking-horse has run
+    That carried us before the day was done,
+    To all the lands that lie beneath the sun?
+
+    _And the dear lips of her we loved so well
+    Kissed us more sweetly than our tongue could tell,
+    When the too daring riders swayed and fell._
+
+    I wonder where the crimson peaches grow
+    We caught together when she threw them, so,
+    And ran with her to hide them, laughing low?
+
+    _And her light feet were swifter yet than ours,
+    And her soft cheeks were like two rosy flowers--
+    Ah, Time and Death, ye two malignant powers!_
+
+
+
+
+THE VIGIL
+
+
+    Nay, Lord, I pray thee call not me to fight!
+    I have crept out of day to bless the night.
+    _Hush, Son, and gather courage for the light!_
+
+    But see, I weary ere I have begun!
+    Give thou the battle to some worthier one!
+    _When have I offered thee to choose, my Son?_
+
+    Look how my eyes with loneliness are wet!
+    But give me once warm arms and lips close met.
+    _Into the desert, Son, thy way is set!_
+
+    Nay, then, thou leanest on a broken reed!
+    Music and mirth and fire and friends I need.
+    _They walk alone whom I have called to lead!_
+
+    How shall I lead who only know to stray?
+    Am I to shepherd them, who lose the way?
+    _Yet I require them of thee in that day!_
+
+    What if I will not? Let me be as these
+    That laugh and breed and die and have good ease!
+    _Nay, Son, the eye once bared forever sees!_
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    This only, Lord: what shall my gladness be
+    Who fight disheartened in life’s phantom sea?
+    _To make the bridge whereon they cross to me!_
+
+    What am I, Lord, that I should strive with fate?
+    Bring on the dawn, before it be too late!
+    _My Son, the dawn shall come, and thou wilt wait!_
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Yea, Lord, and I lie broken in thy hand.
+    Heat me white hot, to forge as thou hast planned.
+    _Fear not, my Son, but I shall understand!_
+
+    Melt out my yielded soul in one red stream,
+    Perchance through thy white furnace hope may gleam--
+    _My Son, a rest thou hast not dared to dream!_
+
+
+
+
+THE SEA MAN
+
+
+    It was the burgher’s daughter,
+      As fair as maid could be,
+    That loved too well the stranger,
+      A man from off the sea.
+
+    “_My mother she was a sea maid;
+      My father he loved no shore.
+    Thou must bury me under billows,
+      Or thou ne’er shall see me more!_”
+
+    She’s kissed him lip and forehead;
+      She’s given him her vow:
+    “Five-fathom sea shall cover thee,
+      But only love me now!”
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    For seven years her sleep is sweet
+      Against the sea man’s heart.
+    “But now hath come my time to die,
+      And now we twain must part.
+
+    “Farewell, my little daughter!
+      Farewell, my bonny son!
+    Last night the waves did call my name;
+      My life on land is done.”
+
+    She holds him close and closer;
+      The bitter tears fall down.
+    “Remember now thy maiden vow,
+      Or woe betide this town!
+
+    “_Remember the oath ye gave me,
+      Nor bury me but in sea,
+    For the ocean will come to seek its own
+      If ye cheat my waves of me!_”
+
+    Now come her haughty sisters;
+      Now comes her father stern.
+    “This deed brings little honor
+      For all the world to learn.
+
+    “Our fathers lie in holy ground;
+      Their tombs are carven well;
+    A heathen stranger cast a-sea
+      Were too much shame to tell!”
+
+    They’ve buried him in the minster high
+      That stands beside her door,
+    But the winds o’ the air have drowned the prayer,
+      And the sea foams up the shore.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    “Mother, I hear the billows roll,
+      I hear them hiss and moan!”
+    “Nay, little son, their fury’s done,
+      ’Tis but the wind alone.”
+
+    “Mother, I smell the salt sea wind,
+      I taste the salt sea spray!”
+    “Nay, daughter mine, some dream is thine,
+      I’ll sing thy fear away.”
+
+    “Mother, we cannot hear thy voice!
+      The sea rolls loud and high!
+    It rushes up the minster street
+      And flings the church door by!”
+
+    The waves pour out the windows wide,
+      They’ve washed the altar bare,
+    They’ve torn the flowers from the stranger’s tomb,
+      And heaped wet sea-weed there!
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    It was the burgher’s daughter
+      That made her prayer in vain,
+    For all that drownèd city
+      Was never seen again.
+
+    For all its goodly gardens,
+      For all its towers so high,
+    Five-fathom sea rolls over it
+      And shuts it from the sky.
+
+    _Then bury the sea man deeply,
+      Five fathom out from shore,
+    Lest the ocean come in to find him,
+      And ye see the sun no more!_
+
+
+
+
+THE SONS OF SLEEP
+
+
+    Now the wayfaring, now the restless earth,
+    Descrying on her dim and trackless verge
+    The dear, awaited dawning of the night,
+    Moves slowly in a languor of desire,
+    And drifts into the haven of her sleep.
+
+    Like dropping of the sweet and gradual rain,
+    Full flooding all the parchèd doors of growth,
+    The multitudinous lips of all the flowers,
+    The whispering insistence of dry leaves,
+    All cool and rill-like flowing, falls our sleep.
+
+    As the long thunderous surge of ocean waves
+    That lull eternally the listening shore,
+    Slow sweeping in from vast and caverned depths,
+    Comes the white tide that washes loose our souls,
+    To drown them tenderly in depths of sleep.
+
+    Soft stealing like the swathed and plumèd dusk,
+    Enwrapped in shadows, shod with silences,
+    Unceasing, unresisted, unobserved,
+    Embosoming the lapsed and languid earth,
+    Slips o’er the sons of men close-feathered sleep.
+
+    By day they walk diverse and isolate,
+    Sunken in self they skulk their separate ways,
+    Poor fugitives of fate, awhirl in time,
+    Groping for fellow-hands they dare not grasp,
+    Grudging the thriftless hours they yield to sleep.
+
+    But now, relaxed and drifting with that stream
+    Whereon they taste soft moments of the voyage
+    Whose unknown port no seaman of us all
+    Evaded ever, these swift, swarming souls
+    As one glad band of brothers sink in sleep.
+
+    Surely the great and tireless Heart of all,
+    Grievèd by day for their perversity,
+    Joys in them as they lie, breast soft on breast,
+    Hand locked in hand, a fathom deep in dreams,
+    And brims anew the cooling wells of sleep!
+
+
+
+
+FOUR SONGS
+
+
+I. THE PEASANT GIRL
+
+    Beyond the sea he goes, beyond the sea.
+    Does he look back to Arcady and me?
+      And yet, how could it be?
+    How should he mate with such a maid as I?
+      Ah, let him go--good-by!
+
+    Beyond my sight he goes, beyond my sight.
+    Does he look back and say, “My sweet, good-night”?
+      And yet, is love so light?
+    How should he know the pain I could not tell?
+      Ah, let him go--farewell!
+
+    Beyond my prayer he goes, beyond my prayer.
+    Does he look back from out the great world there?
+      And yet, how could I dare?
+    How should he know if love be wrong or right?
+      Ah, let him go--good-night!
+
+
+II. AN INTERLUDE
+
+    I was within her heart that one short year
+    (But that is long ago and far away!).
+      Her soul’s sweet spring,
+      The while she waited for that greater thing,
+    Should blow to blossom all the buds of May.
+
+    I was within her heart that one short year
+    (But that is hidden, lost, and gone away!).
+      She was not mine,
+      But ere the glorious harvest moon could shine
+    There beamed on me the crescent moon of May.
+
+    I was within her heart that one short year
+    (But that has faded faint and soft away!).
+      Though the year’s night
+      Draws on, and all about the snow falls white,
+    Across my heart there blows a breath of May.
+
+
+III. HEART’S SEASONS
+
+    When Love went holidaying
+      Among the autumn leaves,
+    They bloomed in sweet betraying,
+    The purple clouds, soft straying,
+    Held daylight back, delaying
+      To gild the glowing sheaves--
+    When Love went holidaying
+      Among the autumn leaves.
+
+    When Grief came on a-sighing
+      Behind the flowers of spring,
+    They withered to their dying,
+    The homing birds, slow flying,
+    Sang wintry songs, denying
+      The joy that June should bring--
+    When Grief came on a-sighing
+      Behind the flowers of spring.
+
+
+IV. OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY
+
+    “Over the hills,” he said, “and far away!”
+      Ah me! to go, to leave it all and go!
+    To toss my life as east wind tosses spray,
+    To clean forget that this land ever lay
+      Within my sight, that wearied of it so!
+
+    “Over the hills,” he said, “and far away!”
+      Could he have felt my heart leap up and sing!
+    I knew the primrose path my feet would stray,
+    I guessed the lovely glow of the new day
+      That lies beyond the mountain’s purple wing.
+
+    “Over the hills,” he said, “and far away!”
+      He took my heart and wandered on alone;
+    Doubtless some other strolls with him to-day,
+    A lightsome comrade on his happy way,
+      That way across the hills I have not known!
+
+
+
+
+THE SAILOR’S SONG
+
+
+    O the wind’s to the West and the sails are filling free!
+    Take your head from my breast: you must say good-by to me.
+    You’d my heart in both your hands, but you did not hold it fast,
+    And the mill cannot grind with the water that is past.
+
+    O it’s I must away, and it’s you must bide at home!
+    I am sped like the spray, I am fickle as the foam:
+    It was sweet, my dear, ’twas sweet, but ’twas all too sweet to last,
+    For the mill cannot grind with the water that is past.
+
+    We have clasped, we have kissed, but you would not give me more:
+    I must win what we missed on some other, farther shore.
+    You can never hold the gray gull that swings about the mast,
+    And the mill cannot grind with the water that is past.
+
+    You will mourn, you will mate, but ’twill never be with me:
+    I am off to my fate, and it lies across the sea.
+    For it’s God alone that knows where my anchor will be cast,
+    And the mill cannot grind with the water that is past.
+
+
+
+
+QUATRAIN
+
+
+    In a wide chamber from the rest apart,
+    I spread the purple daïs of my heart:
+    An unfilled throne, with steps by men untrod,
+    Too high it was for them--too low for God.
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD COUNTRY
+
+
+    _Where’s the land o’ Dreamland?_
+      How should I know?
+    On the moon’s farther side,
+    Where the drift clouds ride,
+      And the stars hang low.
+
+    _What’s the look o’ Dreamland?_
+      How should I see?
+    All the air’s silver-gray,
+    Glinted with star spray,
+      Here and there a tree.
+
+    _What’s the sound o’ Dreamland?_
+      How should I hear?
+    Bell tones from far below,
+    Night’s haunting cockcrow,
+      Olden songs and dear.
+
+    _What’s the speech o’ Dreamland?_
+      How should I say?
+    Great eyes that fill the heart,
+    Soft hands that clasp and part,
+      Calls from far away.
+
+    _Where’s the gate o’ Dreamland?_
+      How should I tell?
+    Sudden you stand before,
+    Slip through the quiet door--
+      Ah, but all’s well!
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE BLIND BEGGAR
+
+
+    At the gate of the world where the travel flows,
+      And the folk stream by full-tide,
+    A little blind Beggar sits in the sun
+      And shoots afar and awide.
+
+    He fits the arrow and twangs the bow
+      And low in his throat laughs he,
+    For well he knows he will hit his mark
+      Though never a face he see.
+
+    And never his stock of arrows fails,
+      For the pain of the wound is sweet,
+    And the stricken folk bring the arrows back
+      To pile at the Beggar’s feet.
+
+    So he fits the arrows and twangs the bow,
+      And laughs till his fingers shake,
+    For well he knows he can never miss,
+      But somewhere a heart must ache.
+
+    Now they who are struck, they keep still tongue,
+      But they carry the arrows back,
+    And they who are spared they sound abroad
+      The songs of the pain they lack.
+
+    But still or singing, and grave or gay,
+      Through the gate of the world they go,
+    And the little blind Beggar sits in the sun
+      And laughs as he lays them low.
+
+
+
+
+THE STRANGER CHILD
+
+
+    Now the night is dark,
+      Now the house is still;
+    Comes a little stranger child
+      Toiling up the hill.
+
+    Listens at the door,
+      Peers within the pane,
+    Reaches for the broken latch
+      Rusted with the rain.
+
+    Murmurs in the dark,
+      Sobs beneath his breath,
+    Whispers to the empty rooms,
+      Quiet, now, for death.
+
+    Wanders through the lane
+      Where the rosebush grew,
+    Tries to reach the cobwebbed sill
+      Drenched and dark with dew.
+
+    Calls--and calls in vain!
+      For the man, alone,
+    Dies before a dying fire,
+      Hears no human tone.
+
+    Only his soul’s voice
+      Calls the dull roll through;
+    Good so often long to wait,
+      Ill so quick to do.
+
+    Only his soul’s eyes,
+      Shamed and tired of all,
+    Watch the red life ebb and flow,
+      Watch the last sands fall.
+
+    And the little child,
+      Clinging to the sill,
+    Weeps and stretches tiny hands,
+      Weak for good or ill.
+
+    Slow the dying coal
+      Drops from out the fire;
+    Slowly sinks the house of clay,
+      Empty of desire.
+
+    Through the creaking blind
+      Slips the spirit now,
+    Shudders at the stranger child,
+      “Thou? my lost youth, _thou_?”
+
+
+
+
+SONGS OF ISEULT DESERTED
+
+
+I
+
+    I do not pray for thee, most dear of all,
+    That ever in soft ways thy feet may fall,
+    For well I know that wheresoe’er thou art
+    Thy feet must tread forever on my heart!
+
+    I pray thee only to walk gently, sweet,
+    Nor press too sharply with too cruel feet:
+    Remember thou how soft the way must be,
+    How soft--and ah, how sad--and pity me!
+
+
+II
+
+    Should we have loved if we had known
+      That love would bring one day such pain?
+    I cannot tell--I only kiss
+      The pillow where your head has lain.
+
+    Should we have loved if we had known
+      That love would go to come no more?
+    I cannot tell--I only stand
+      And sob before a fast-closed door.
+
+
+III
+
+    Since you are gone, all dull my life has grown,
+      Idle among my empty days I stand:
+    They pass and pass, and leave me here alone--
+      Ah, sweet, your hand that burned upon my hand!
+
+    Since you are gone, gone are the joys I knew,
+      Slowly from out the sky the long night slips:
+    And my arms ache with emptiness of you--
+      Ah, sweet, your lips that trembled on my lips!
+
+    Since you are gone, the world is grown too wide,
+      With cruel miles that hold us two apart:
+    I sit and watch the white road weary-eyed--
+      Ah, sweet, your heart that beat against my heart!
+
+
+
+
+THE OLD CAPTIVE
+
+
+    To hear once more the thunder of the surf,
+    To breathe once more the salt and stinging wind,
+    To set my cheek once more against the wave,
+    To look once more across the billowy Sea!
+
+    Chained in the pen of silent heavy hills,
+    I dream hot nights of that sweet long ago,
+    When I leaped down the beach in the dim dawn,
+    And plunged to meet the sun--and knew the Sea!
+
+        _And they drove in the boats with a shout and a song,
+        And they spread wide the nets in the face o’ the wind,
+        And the ship strained and dipped like a swooping bird,
+        And we rushed onward, mad for the open Sea!_
+
+    Never to feed my eyes on strange dim coasts,
+    Never to touch a branch washed in by the tide,
+    Never to gaze on dark and silent men
+    From some far isle in the mysterious Sea!
+
+    Never to see the white sails gleam and fade,
+    Nor watch black masts against the setting sun,
+    Never to glide within some wondrous port,
+    Nor breathe spice winds blown soft across the Sea!
+
+    Never to feel the great sail fill and stretch,
+    Nor plough white fiery trails beneath the stars,
+    Nor float below some tow’ring rosy berg,
+    Nor ride the sheer gulfs of the stormy Sea!
+
+        _And they rushed down to the beach to drag us in,
+        And they pulled hard at the rough and glistening rope,
+        And the glad keel rubbed harsh on the shelly sand,
+        And their arms strained us, home from the terrible Sea!_
+
+    Though in my life I lost thee, tired and dead,
+    Me they shall bring to thee, O long desired!
+    Me they shall lay at sunset on the sand,
+    Where the strong tide swings outward to the Sea.
+
+    Me like a cradled child the waves shall rock,
+    Rock ’neath the moon, and sink to those dim caves,
+    Those wide green glooms, those clear and pallid depths,
+    The silence and the strange flowers of the Sea.
+
+        _And they shall bear me down with a glorious song,
+        And they shall shout to the crash and boom of the surf,
+        And they shall thrill to the whip and sting of the spray,
+        While the great waves ride triumphing out to Sea!_
+
+    Where the pale light strains down through undreamed deeps
+    To glimmer o’er the vast unpeopled plains,
+    The ancient treasure piles of dead kings’ fleets,
+    The mighty bones long bleached beneath the Sea,
+
+    There where cool corals and still seaweeds twine,
+    There on the solemn level ocean floor,
+    Till God’s great arm shall terribly plough the deep,
+    I shall lie long and rest beneath the Sea.
+
+
+
+
+SONG TO OPHELIA
+
+
+    Unto thy grass-hidden charms
+    Nature worketh no alarms;
+    Changeth all thy breath to dew,
+    And thine eyes to violets blue,
+    Weaveth all thy waving hair
+    Into beams to light the air!
+    _Thus the song--and yet he saith_
+    “_Ah! how sad a thing is Death!_”
+
+    Over thy earth-covered breast
+    Springtime snow doth lightly rest;
+    Never hath been spun a sheet
+    For thy purity more meet;
+    Lovelier the earth shall be
+    Now that it doth prison thee!
+    _Thus the song--and yet he saith_
+    “_Ah! how sad a thing is Death!_”
+
+
+
+
+A CHRISTMAS HYMN FOR CHILDREN
+
+
+    Our bells ring out to all the earth,
+            _In excelsis gloria!_
+    But none for Thee made chimes of mirth
+    On that great morning of Thy birth.
+
+    Our coats they lack not silk nor fur,
+            _In excelsis gloria!_
+    Not such Thy Blessed Mother’s were;
+    Full simple garments covered Her.
+
+    Our churches rise up goodly high,
+            _In excelsis gloria!_
+    Low in a stall Thyself did lie,
+    With hornèd oxen standing by.
+
+    Incense we breathe and scent of wine,
+            _In excelsis gloria!_
+    Around Thee rose the breath of kine,
+    Thy only drink Her breast divine.
+
+    We take us to a happy tree,
+            _In excelsis gloria!_
+    The seed was sown that day for Thee
+    That blossomed but at Calvary.
+
+    Teach us to feed Thy poor with meat,
+            _In excelsis gloria!_
+    Who turnest not when we entreat,
+    Who givest us Thy Bread to eat.
+                                Amen.
+
+
+
+
+THE GYPSY MAID
+
+
+    She met them on the forest edge,
+      A maid all brown and slim,
+    She beckoned them to leave the path
+      That girt the forest rim.
+
+    At first they shake their heads at her,
+      At last they follow meek,
+    She smiles at them with crimson lips,
+      And sweet her bright eyes speak.
+
+    They go as in a faëry dream,
+      The forest shuts them round,
+    Save for the leaves that whisper low
+      They hear no earthly sound.
+
+    The quiet miles have grown to leagues,
+      The trees are strange and tall,
+    They listen for the gypsy’s steps
+      And follow where they fall.
+
+    She sings a song of Wander-land,
+      For very joy they weep:
+    Adown the hills the dying day
+      Soft like a cloud doth creep.
+
+    The forest folk have gone to rest,
+      The trees are dark and high:
+    The gypsy’s song it crooneth soft
+      Their mother’s lullaby.
+
+    A misty moon now rides the clouds,
+      They sink in happy sleep:
+    The gypsy laughing low at them
+      Slips in the forest deep.
+
+    They wake into a fearsome dawn,
+      Lost in a gloomy fen:
+    They follow no more gypsy maids
+      In all their life again.
+
+
+
+
+THREE SONGS
+
+
+I. THE SAILOR
+
+    You hold me for a day, my dear,
+      I lose you for a life,
+    And that’s the sailor’s way, my dear,
+      A love, but not a wife.
+    ’Tis never I will blame you,
+      ’Tis not my eyes are wet,
+    But ’tis I that must remember--
+      ’Tis you that will forget.
+
+    You kiss me for a night, my dear,
+      I kiss you for the years,
+    And that’s the sailor’s right, my dear,
+      And life’s too short for tears.
+    ’Tis never I will stay you
+      When once the moon has set,
+    But ’tis I that must remember--
+      ’Tis you that will forget.
+
+
+II. THE HUNTER
+
+    One came chasing the fallow deer
+      When all the wood was green,
+    But through my heart an arrow went
+      That ne’er by him was seen--
+                        Ah me!
+      That ne’er by him was seen.
+
+    One came hunting the eagle-king
+      When all the wood was brown,
+    But over me a lure was cast
+      That dragged my proud heart down--
+                        Ah me!
+      That dragged my proud heart down.
+
+    One came tracking the mighty boar
+      When all the wood was white,
+    But from my wound the red drops fell
+      That guided him that night--
+                        Ah me!
+      That guided him that night.
+
+
+III. THE PRINCE
+
+    My heart it was a cup of gold
+    That at his lip did long to lie,
+    But he hath drunk the red wine down,
+    And tossed the goblet by.
+
+    My heart it was a floating bird
+    That through the world did wander free,
+    But he hath locked it in a cage,
+    And lost the silver key.
+
+    My heart it was a white, white rose
+    That bloomed upon a broken bough,
+    He did but wear it for an hour,
+    And it is withered now.
+
+
+
+
+THE LITTLE DEAD CHILD
+
+
+    When all but her were sleeping fast,
+      And the night was nearly fled,
+    The little dead child came up the stair
+      And stood by his mother’s bed.
+
+    “Ah, God!” she cried, “the nights are three,
+      And yet I have not slept!”
+    The little dead child he sat him down,
+      And sank his head, and wept.
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    “And is it thou, my little dead child,
+      Come in from out the storm?
+    Ah, lie thou back against my heart,
+      And I will keep thee warm!”
+
+      _That is long ago, mother,
+        Long and long ago!
+      Shall I grow warm who lay three nights
+        Beneath the winter snow?_
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    “Hast thou not heard the old nurse weep?
+      She sings to us no more;
+    And thy brothers leave the broken toys
+      And whisper in the door.”
+
+      _That is far away, mother,
+        Far and far away!
+      Above my head the stone is white,
+        My hands forget to play._
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    “What wilt thou then, my little dead child,
+      Since here thou may’st not lie?
+    Ah, me! that snow should be thy sheet,
+      And winds thy lullaby!”
+
+      _Down within my grave, mother,
+        I heard, I know not how,
+      “Go up to God, thou little child,
+        Go up and meet him now!”_
+
+      _That is far to fare, mother,
+        Far and far to fare!
+      I come for thee to carry me
+        The way from here to there._
+
+    “O hold thy peace, my little dead child,
+      My heart will break in me!
+    Thy way to God thou must go alone,
+      I may not carry thee!”
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    The cock crew out the early dawn
+      Ere she could stay her moan;
+    She heard the cry of a little child,
+      Upon his way alone.
+
+
+
+
+AT PARTING
+
+
+    Oh, all too well beloved, at last I know
+      That for us two the parting of the ways
+      Has come, and brought the ending of sweet days.
+    Bid me good-bye, and loose my hand, and go.
+    To-day’s fair peak we ran to climb, and low
+      Before us, glowing in our last sun’s rays,
+      The path slopes down, nor undivided stays;
+    The path slopes down, but separate and slow.
+
+    Henceforward you and I alone must fare.
+      Nay, look not all so sad! Was ever done
+      A deed to merit all that we have won
+    Of joy? I tell you, there are those whose prayer
+    Is nightly on their knees that they might bear
+      Our shadow, could they but have known our sun!
+
+
+
+
+THE NIXY
+
+
+    They brought her honey and milk,
+      They brought her curds and wine,
+    “But oh!” she cried, “for the river side,
+      And the rushes that were mine!”
+
+    They robed her body with silk,
+      They filled her lap with gold,
+    “But oh!” she prayed, “for the mossy shade,
+      And the green depths, pure and cold!”
+
+    They kissed her ankles for love,
+      They worshiped at her eyes,
+    “But oh!” she moaned, “for the flood, deep-toned,
+      And the sweeping spray that flies!”
+
+    They draped her chamber with black,
+      They wept there at her bier,
+    But her glad soul fled when her heart was dead,
+      And flowed with the river clear.
+
+
+
+
+A JAPANESE FAN
+
+
+    Is it so warm in old Japan?
+      Do flowers flaunt out such riot glare?
+    Hangs that soft, golden mist so low?
+      Ah me, ah me, to journey there!
+
+    Inked out against the yellow glow
+      One sharp peak rises, blackly bare;
+    A stately swan steers up the sky--
+      Ah me, ah me, to journey there!
+
+    And see her as she furls her fan!
+      Was ever lady half so fair?
+    She beckons to me with her eyes--
+      Ah me, ah me, to journey there!
+
+    Were ever feet so dainty small?
+      Was ever coiled such shining hair?
+    Her hands are like curled lily-buds--
+      Ah me, ah me, to journey there!
+
+    Fan-pictured, dear Japan, thy calm
+      Fills us of West with dull despair!
+    (The palm-leaves sift the sunlight through)
+      Ah me, ah me, to journey there!
+
+
+
+
+TWO SONNETS FROM THE HEBREW
+
+
+I. THE PREPARATION
+
+“_And he said, I will not destroy it for the ten’s sake._”
+
+      Look back and see this brooding tenderness!
+      Ye wait till Bethlehem? Nay then, not I!
+      Under the law doth Israel ever sigh?
+      Is there no mercy till the great redress?
+      See now, amid the nameless wickedness
+      Love dreadeth lest one soul of his should die,
+      Spareth and faltereth and passeth by,
+      Soft’ning the law to ease a son’s distress.
+
+    Shall not the judge of all the earth do right?
+    Aye, child, and more! thou hast not learned to spell
+    Love’s first great letter: centuries of pain
+    Still leave him terrible in thy scared sight
+    Who quencheth with his tears the fires of hell,
+    And yearneth o’er the cities of the Plain!
+
+
+II. THE INCARNATION
+
+“_Yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee!_”
+
+      “Speak thou for us: with God we will not speak!”
+      Ye will have prophet, yea, and saviour too,
+      And saint and creed and priest to worship through,
+      Whereat Love smiles and gives them, ye being weak.
+      And most ye clutch at her, that virgin meek
+      With cradling arms: ah, child of Love, but who
+      Curved her soft breast, and taught the dove to coo,
+      And sent the shepherd forth the lamb to seek?
+
+    Surely great wings are wrapped around our world!
+    And the one pulse that in us ebbs and flows
+    Leaps at her name, for she has understood:
+    In our hearts’ lowest leaves her love is curled,
+    Unshrined, she yet hath comfort for all woes,
+    If not God’s mother, still God’s motherhood!
+
+
+
+
+ODE: WRITTEN FOR THE TWENTY-SECOND OF FEBRUARY
+
+
+    Upon the shore of God’s unfinished years,
+    Waiting impatient while the slow mist clears,
+    The younger sister of the nations stands,
+    And shades her eyes with mighty, eager hands.
+
+    So great, so proud, so strong! with youthful scorn
+    She leaves behind her sisters elder born,
+    And stands before the parting of the ways,
+    Unburdened with their weight of yesterdays.
+
+    Hard eyes and restless hers, agleam for gain,
+    And peevish children struggle in her train;
+    Yet her broad brows have bloody laurels pressed,
+    And she hath nourished heroes at her breast.
+
+    Half scornful of her children of to-day,
+    She dreams how long ago and far away
+    Her firstborn brought across the new-found seas
+    Their mighty faith, long gone, alas, from these!
+
+    She sees them, where th’ untrodden forest waves,
+    Building new homes upon their thick-set graves,
+    Raising new altars to a stern, high creed,
+    Training in fear of God their stalwart breed.
+
+    She hears them fling across the hostile sea
+    That cry that cheered her on to victory;
+    She feels again the thrill that shook her soul
+    When wondering nations watched her flag unroll.
+
+    She sees--and ah, her heart grows big with tears
+    From out the mists of those long-vanished years,--
+    She sees her best beloved come, her pride;
+    There stands again her hero at her side.
+
+    Her eyes are soft with love, and to her heart
+    There comes anew with sweet, resistless smart
+    Her long-forgotten motherhood, she turns,
+    And toward her children as of old she yearns.
+
+    “Oh, grown beyond my power to curb or stay,
+    Turn ye a moment from your sordid way,
+    Lift ye your restless, weary eyes on high,
+    This son your mother bore in days gone by!
+
+    “Ye will not see me old before my time!
+    Ye will not make me barren in my prime!
+    Help me to bear ye men again like these!
+    Make me the greatest land the great sun sees!”
+
+    Ashamed and dumb her summoned children stand,
+    And love with the old love their Mother-land.
+    Deep in their hearts her elder son is set:
+    Thinking on him, they cannot quite forget!
+
+    Before his gracious calm their fevered schemes
+    Awhile are gone, and flushed with the old dreams,
+    They see in him writ large the old, high aim,
+    They point, though backward, to one perfect fame!
+
+
+
+
+THE DEATH SONG
+
+“The island of Martinique will not, in all probability, be built up
+again.”
+
+
+    Hearken, my father the lowering Sky!
+      Hearken, my brother the heaving Sea!
+      Who but thy sister calls to thee?
+    I, the Mountain, make end and die.
+
+    Bridled was I and bitted sure?
+      Bridged with homes and with gardens chained?
+      God’s tame beast to his uses trained?
+    Ye to go free, and I endure?
+
+    See, my father, I cloud like thee!
+      See, my brother, like thee I swell!
+      Ye league with death, but I rule all hell,
+    And the Lord of heaven shall shrink from me.
+
+    Once I groaned, and the scared wind sighed,
+      Twice I heaved, and the sick earth turned,
+      Thrice I spat out my blood that burned,
+    Roaring with torture, aflame with pride.
+
+    Down below me they swarmed and stirred,
+      Ants in an ant-hill, row on row.
+      “Haste!” I cried to them, “haste and go!”
+    Have I not warned? but they have not heard.
+
+    “Pains of the deep hold me in thrall,
+      World-old cancers that eat my heart,
+      Blood o’ the earth--I feel it start--
+    Gone, get ye gone, or it floods you all!”
+
+    Living and breeding, still they smile,
+      Ants of the ant-hill, pygmy men,
+      “Pelée stirs? she will rest again;
+    Live and love me and dance awhile!”
+
+           *       *       *       *       *
+
+    Ha, my heart it is rent in twain!
+      Up and out in a fiery path
+      Sweeps a river of molten wrath,
+    Falls a torrent of scorching rain!
+
+    Ho, my brother, you boil and hiss!
+      Ho, my father, I hide your sun!
+      Up, at last, little ants, and run!
+    Shrivel and blanch at Pelée’s kiss!
+
+    Hark! did I hear from below my hill
+      Rise and echo a puny din?
+      Through my thunder a wailing thin?
+    When I listened, the ants were still.
+
+    One throe more, and the sea is death,
+      Yet again, and the land is bare:
+      Brother, your glory is all to share--
+    I have outmurdered ye, breath for breath!
+
+    Lone I must lie in my stately doom,
+      Stark and still on my island bier:
+      Ashen silence shall wrap me here--
+    Pelée the Mountain makes her tomb!
+
+
+
+
+SEVEN CHILD SONGS
+
+
+I. DO YOU KNOW?
+
+    Behind the currant bushes, when the night was coming on,
+      There was such a funny whisper--do you know?
+    It made us shiver-shiver, and it made our hearts beat quick,
+    And we knew it wasn’t any good to carry out a stick,
+    But we did it just the same, or else you never would have gone--
+                        _Do you know?_
+
+    Beyond the old syringa, when the stars were peeping out,
+      There was such a funny shadow--do you know?
+    And over in the flower-bed you had left your father’s spade,
+    And you had to go and get it, and you said you weren’t afraid,
+    But you told me afterward about the creeping Indian scout--
+                        _Do you know?_
+
+    Beneath the kitchen window, when the moon was climbing high,
+      There was such a funny coldness--do you know?
+    No matter if ’twas summer, it was cool just like a well,
+    And the reason was because a ghost--but when you tried to tell,
+    I put my fingers in my ears, and how I used to cry!
+                        _Do you know?_
+
+
+II. THE SECRET PLAYMATE
+
+    When I am playing underneath the tree,
+    I look around--and there he is with me!
+
+    Among the shadows of the boughs he stands,
+    And shakes the leaves at me with both his hands.
+
+    And then upon the mossy roots we lie,
+    And watch the leaves make pictures on the sky.
+
+    And then we swing and float from bough to bough--
+    And never fall? I can’t remember now.
+
+    The games I play with him are always best,
+    And yet we cannot teach them to the rest.
+
+    For when the others come to join our play,
+    I look around--and he has slipped away!
+
+    They ask me if he speaks--I cannot tell;
+    But no one else can play with me so well.
+
+
+III. LONELINESS
+
+    How can I play any longer with my doll?
+      You know she has lost her head.
+    And Mary’s the one that used to mend her for me--
+      _And Mary, you say, is dead._
+
+    Why do I leave the sand-heap all alone?
+      Because it has dried and spread.
+    And Mary’s the one that always brought the water--
+      _And Mary, you say, is dead._
+
+    More on the beach? Well, I think I know that, too!
+      And _you_ are the one that said
+    That Mary and I should sleep in a room together--
+      _And now you say Mary’s dead._
+
+    No, I don’t like the hotel--I’d be alone;
+      I’d cry in that great big bed:
+    And Mary and I played tent in the morning early--
+      _And now Mary can’t--she’s dead._
+
+    Happier? no, not a bit! not a single bit!
+      Then why are your eyes so red?
+    And Mary’s the one that never liked angel-stories--
+      _And Mary’s the one that’s dead._
+
+
+IV. DREAMS
+
+    One night I climbed a mountain all of snow,
+    A great black creature showed me where to go:
+    We went into a church with no one there,
+    And cried because the wind began to blow.
+
+    And then a King that wore a golden crown
+    Climbed up the spire and tried to help me down,
+    But I spread out my arms, and flew and flew,
+    And all the people watched us from the town.
+
+    They chased me through the streets, but I ran fast,
+    And got into a secret place at last.
+    I’d float down stairways, touching just my toes,
+    And laugh and mock at them as I went past.
+
+    And then we went to Cinderella’s ball,
+    I had no shoes nor stockings on at all:
+    They smiled and pointed at me till I cried,
+    And woke up just as when you slip and fall.
+
+
+V. THE SHADOW
+
+    If you and I should join our hands
+      And go at night soft through the hall,
+    I wonder could we hope to catch
+      That shadow sliding from the wall?
+
+    He slips and slips and slips away,
+      I touched his arm--and he was gone!
+    I cannot see his face, can you?
+      What wall can that be painted on?
+
+    Because they say he isn’t real,
+      They say he’s just a flattened form;
+    But me, I don’t believe it’s true,
+      _I touched his arm, and it was warm_!
+
+    Right through the wall he slips and sinks:
+      The room behind, you know, is mine.
+    What can he want there in the dark?
+      He never makes a sound nor sign.
+
+    He never goes there in the day,
+      Only at night, right after tea,
+    And then I go to bed, you know,
+      And then he runs ahead of me.
+
+    If you will hold my hand quite close,
+      And creep along with me quite still,
+    We’ll make a sudden jump--but no!
+      We’ll touch him then--I know we will!
+
+
+VI. HEAVEN
+
+    She says that when we all have died
+    We’ll walk in white there (then she cried)
+    All free from sorrow, sin, and care--
+    But I’m not sure I’d like it there.
+
+    She cannot tell me what we’ll do,
+    I couldn’t sing the whole day through:
+    The angels might not care to play,
+    Or else I mightn’t like their way.
+
+    I never loved my Uncle Ned,
+    So I can’t love him now he’s dead.
+    He’d be the only one I know--
+    She says it’s wicked to talk so.
+
+    I’d like to see how God would look,
+    I’d like to see that Judgment Book:
+    But pretty soon I’d want to be
+    Where the real people were, you see.
+
+    When people turn dead in a dream,
+    I wake up, and I scream and scream:
+    And since they’re all dead there, you know,
+    I’m sure that I should feel just so!
+
+
+VII. THE PEAR TREE
+
+    We lived out under the pear tree,
+      We dined upon tarts and cream,
+    I married you there for ever,
+      But, dear, ’twas only a dream!
+
+    We sailed away in the branches
+      To countries strange and new,
+    For we owned estates in Dreamland,
+      But, sweetheart, it isn’t true!
+
+    We made a church in the pear tree,
+      Where the angels came to sing,
+    We stroked their wings--but, dearest,
+      You mustn’t believe a thing!
+
+    We cut our names in the tree trunk,
+      So the bark could never grow,
+    And the Dryad cried! But, my darling,
+      ’Twas none of it really so!
+
+
+
+
+INSCRIPTIONS
+
+
+
+
+FOR A CHILD’S PLATE
+
+
+    My Child, when from this Plate you Eat,
+    Give Thanks to God, who Sends your Meat.
+    Beware you Show no Haste nor Greed,
+    To those who Serve pay Gentle Heed,
+    Spare out some Bread to Feed the Poor,
+    And you shall Never Want, be Sure.
+
+
+
+
+FOR HIS CUP
+
+
+    When drinking, Child, from out this Cup
+    To Ease your thirsty Pain,
+    Think how the Earth to God looks up
+    And Thanks Him for the Rain.
+
+
+
+
+FOR HIS CHAIR
+
+
+    When in this Chair you Rest, my Child,
+    Let all your Thoughts be Kind and Mild,
+    Your Face and Hands quite Neat:
+    Rise up until your Elders sit,
+    Seek not to Show a Saucy Wit,
+    Nor all you Hear Repeat.
+
+
+
+
+FOR HIS BED
+
+
+    Go not to Sleep in this White Bed,
+    My Child, before your Prayers are Said.
+    Give Thanks to God for all your Joys,
+    For Mother, Home, and Friends and Toys.
+    Ask Pardon for the Sins you’ve Done,
+    Then Shut your Eyes until the Sun:
+    Your Dream shall be a happy one.
+
+
+
+
+THE WANDERERS
+
+
+                               THE PRINCE
+                             A MAN-AT-ARMS
+                                A GYPSY
+
+                    _Scene: The Edge of the Forest_
+
+    THE PRINCE
+
+    So then, I am crowned to-morrow?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+                                     Yes, my lord.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    How fleet the time runs by! But yesterday
+    I played in the fountain with the great white hound.
+    My old, old nurse that died....
+                                    But all is changed.
+    I am a man now?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+                    So it seems, my lord.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    And I am king to-morrow.
+                             Ah, dear saints!
+    This is the saddest day of all my life.
+    Farewell, farewell, sweet Yesterday! Farewell,
+    Thou once so sweet To-morrow! Thou for me
+    Shalt no more beckon down the widening road
+    That flows through all the forests and the fields,
+    That flowers into the sunset and the sea!
+    Henceforth companioned by the same To-day,
+    The dull, cramped state, the tired formality,
+    False thoughtfulness and feigned remembrances,
+    I yoke my life to one recurring task,
+    No sooner done than all’s to do again!
+    I would I were a child with one white hound
+    That lapped the fountain....
+                                 Wherefore do you sigh?
+    Why are you sad? You need not be a king.
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    My lord, I love you.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                         I know it. Oh, my friend,
+    Listen, and I will tell you. Only you
+    Are friendly-souled in all this cruel court;
+    And that is strange, for you must ever dog me,
+    That I go not afield nor roam the woods.
+    Why may I not?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+                   My lord, it is forbidden.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                                             But why?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    I know not. What would you tell me, sir?
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    Why, this.
+               Last night I leaned far out the tower
+    To catch the smell o’ the woods and hear the birds
+    Quiet their young to sleep, and watch the stars
+    Slip one by one to sight, and feel the wind,
+    That blows so soft at night, come floating by.
+    And on my ear there fell a sudden song:
+    So throstle-sweet it was, so faëry-gay,
+    My heart stood still to hear it. It rose high,
+    And all my soul rose with it; it sank low--
+    My cheeks were wet with tears.
+                                   I tell you, friend,
+    My years slipped from me like a mantle dropped.
+    I felt the wonderful, the wild, sweet dreams
+    That blessed those nights when I, a little boy,
+    Trembled a moment on the forest brink,
+    Then flung myself into its dusky arms,
+    Swung in the billowy boughs and pressed the moss,
+    Drank from the pool beside the spotted deer,
+    And at the murmurous swaying of the pines
+    Wept in my childish sleep for joy too great.
+
+                                            (_The Gypsy song is heard._)
+
+               _Oh, the goodwife turns the wheel at home,
+                    And the bird will keep her nest,
+                 But it’s ah me! for the world’s to see
+                      Or ever my heart have rest!_
+
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    There, there! You heard it? Ah, unhappy prince!
+    For me the green earth spreads her fields in vain,
+    The forest pleads in vain with dusky arms:
+    I shall die caged.
+                       Ah, do you see him there?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    See whom, my lord?
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                       The stranger in the wood.
+    How brown, how bright! How gallantly it swings,
+    That tattered robe! And see his gleaming chain,
+    His scarlet berries!
+                         Nay, I will not go!
+    Nay, if you touch me I shall kill you! Nay,
+    I will speak with him if I die for it!
+    He turns his eye upon me--
+                               Ah, dear saints!
+    I mind me of my mother suddenly,
+    That died for sorrow when she brought me forth
+    To chain me to a throne. Ah me, ah me!
+    When did my mother die?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+                            The queen, my lord,
+    Left life behind her at the early dawn,
+    Just as the spring was coming on.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                                      And where?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    How can I tell?
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                    I know you will tell true.
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    My lord, the queen, your mother, grew distraught,
+    And ere her time was come she crept at night
+    Between her watchers while they drowsed, and found
+    A glade among the hills that spring had kissed,
+    And underneath green boughs she laid her down.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    And I was born there?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+                          Aye, my lord. Below
+    The first faint budding bough we found you there.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    You should have told me this.
+                                  See, he comes near!
+
+    (_To the Gypsy._) God save you, sir!
+
+    GYPSY
+
+                                         I lie within his hand.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    Where go you?
+
+    GYPSY
+
+                  Where the cool brown river runs,
+    Over the shining pebbles, through deep pools
+    The setting sun turns first to molten gold,
+    Then hues with pigeons’ breasts, purple and pink,
+    Then fills with inky shadows where the moon
+    Plunges at midnight.
+                         ’Neath the glimmering stacks
+    Below the waiting stars I dream good dreams,
+    And catch the sky’s faint blush, and bathe in the brook,
+    And tread the firm green grass and follow the clouds,
+    Till drowsy noon.
+                      I sing before her door,
+    And the farmer’s wife brings honey to me, and bread
+    And milk beneath the pink, sweet apple-boughs.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    Will you not sing to me?
+
+                                                        (_Gypsy sings._)
+
+                   _The king he wooed the Gypsy maid
+                     And kissed her to the throne;
+                 She fell asleep, but blood runs deep,
+                    And the forest claims its own!_
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    Leave us, I say!
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                     You shall not threaten him!
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    Go, or I strike!
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                     Where is your love for me?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    Sir, if my care for you had matched my love
+    We two had long ago been far from here.
+    With every moment’s lingering, my lord,
+    I move one step the nearer to my death:
+    Will you not come?
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                       I cannot.
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+                                 Then for me
+    Life is not long, it seems. I pray you, sir,
+    Remember always that I loved you well!
+
+                                                        (_Gypsy sings._)
+
+                     _Ah, vain for him the diadem,
+                       Heavy the scepter’s load,
+                   For he was lord o’ the windy wood,
+                    And prince o’ the winding road!_
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    I come, I come!
+                    Nay, weep not so, good friend!
+    This is no fault of thine; for you and me
+    God’s plan is kindly. Never did I loose
+    The hare entrapped or set the song-bird free
+    But I had faith that He would serve me so!
+    Come with me: little love have they for us
+    In that hot, weary glitter of the court.
+    Hast thou not seen the new queen grudge at me
+    And nurse her son to scorn me?
+                                   Let them reign!
+    We’ll make a dearer court.
+                               The trees shall bend
+    And bow to us, but not with flattery;
+    The little leaves shall whisper, but their lisp
+    Is clean of lies and slander; the sleek deer
+    Shall lead their tender fawns to kiss our hand,
+    Nor plot us evil with the soft caress;
+    The wind and rain shall be our councilors,
+    Nor urge us to do war, nor press the poor,
+    Nor waste our souls in bitter rivalries,
+    Nor match a petty kingdom with great powers
+    That smile at us for folly.
+                                Let them reign!
+
+                                                        (_Gypsy sings._)
+
+                _And it’s we will fling the world away,
+                     And reap where God has sowed,
+                 And we’ll roam for ay the windy wood,
+                     And wander the winding road!_
+
+
+    PRINCE
+
+    Friend, must I go alone?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+                             My lord, these hands
+    Lifted you first from where you lay and smiled
+    Beside the dead queen ’neath the hawthorn-tree.
+    I walked beside the horse when first you rode,
+    I set the hawk upon your little arm,
+    I have lain years before your door at night.
+    The death I stay to meet were not so hard
+    As life without you.
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                         Will you follow me?
+
+    MAN-AT-ARMS
+
+    To the death, my lord!
+
+    PRINCE
+
+                           Why, then, good friends, your hands!
+    We three are bound for the woods: God needs some souls
+    To love the world as he made it.
+                                     Come with me!
+
+                     (_They enter the forest; the Gypsy song is heard._)
+
+    _Oh, the goodwife turns the wheel at home,
+      And the bird will keep her nest,
+    But it’s ah me! for the world’s to see
+      Or ever my heart have rest!_
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75489 ***