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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77093 ***
+
+                   This ebook was created in honor of
+              Distributed Proofreaders’ 25th Anniversary.
+
+
+
+
+ A SILVER POOL
+
+
+
+
+ A SILVER POOL
+
+ _by_
+
+ _BEULAH FIELD_
+
+ [Illustration: Publisher’s Colophon]
+
+ NEW YORK
+ MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
+ 1922
+
+
+
+
+ COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY
+ MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY
+
+
+
+
+TABLE OF CONTENTS
+
+
+                                        PAGE
+
+ INSPIRATION                               9
+
+ “BEGGAR-MAN, THIEF”                      10
+
+ CARNIVAL                                 11
+
+ BRANDED                                  12
+
+ FOR AN ELIZABETHAN GARLAND               13
+
+ WHEN I REMEMBER                          14
+
+ THE WAYFARER                             15
+
+ PIERROT                                  16
+
+ TO LY-Y-HANE                          17-18
+
+ WIND OF THE SEA                          19
+
+ PERHAPS                                  20
+
+ IN THE STREET OF PAINTED FLOWERS      21-22
+
+ MYSTERY                                  23
+
+ WATCH-FIRES                              24
+
+ TOKENS                                   25
+
+ CAMEO                                    26
+
+ BLUE FLAMES AND FLOWERS                  27
+
+ THE LAW                                  28
+
+ MIRACLE                                  29
+
+ VALUES                                   30
+
+ FAME                                     31
+
+ RAINBOW                                  32
+
+ GLASS BEADS                              33
+
+ WILLOWS                                  34
+
+ THE DEAD LOVER                           35
+
+ LITTLE WHITE GATE                        36
+
+ IMMORTAL                                 37
+
+ MY COMMUNION                             38
+
+ STARS                                    39
+
+ DISAPPOINTMENTS                          40
+
+ INTERLUDE                                41
+
+ TO MY FATHER                             42
+
+ CONFESSIONAL                             43
+
+ RECOMPENSE                               44
+
+ MOCKERY                                  45
+
+ REBELLION                                46
+
+ THE MESSENGER                            47
+
+ “NEEDLES AND PINS”                       48
+
+ TO JUNE                                  49
+
+ TO CONGDON                               50
+
+
+
+
+TO CONGDON
+
+
+
+
+INSPIRATION
+
+
+  I bridled my soul in its temple,
+      Waiting a while,
+  Till I knew the peace of a tempered touch,
+      And changeless smile.
+
+  Then I made my heart a silver pool
+      Of melody,
+  And stars came down from the sky at night
+      And bathed in me.
+
+
+
+
+“BEGGAR-MAN, THIEF”
+
+
+  A beggar on the edge of town
+    Looked up and smiled at me,
+  And offered for the coin I held,
+    A seedling laurel tree.
+
+  A merchant in the market-place,
+    A laughing, lordly knave,
+  Filled my hands with tarnished gems,
+    And took the coin I gave.
+
+  If I could find that beggar-man,
+    I’d give to him my soul,
+  If he would share his bread with me,
+    And coppers from his bowl.
+
+
+
+
+CARNIVAL
+
+
+  I gave a rose to a dancing girl,
+        She did not know
+  It was tribute I paid to a joy,
+        Dead long ago.
+
+  I sang my song in the market-place,
+        They did not hear
+  I was challenging love with a laugh,
+        And grief and fear.
+
+  Life danced on my heart with careless feet,
+        And never knew
+  The beauty it gave in gift to me,
+        Was tied with rue.
+
+  I walked the ways of a heedless world,
+        And found it mad,
+  So, now I drift in the wake of dreams,
+        And I am glad.
+
+
+
+
+BRANDED
+
+
+  I have found me a darkling mistress,
+  Who is all my need and desire;
+  Her slave in a willing bondage,
+  I bathe in her opal fire.
+  She has given me gorgeous dawns
+  From the rim of her saffron seas;
+  There is joy in the burning wind
+  That comes from her fronded keys.
+  I know the grip of her brilliant days,
+  And the scorching spell of her nights,
+  When pagan gods seduce me
+  With the lure of their heathen rites.
+  I know the call of her hard, white roads,
+  The choking heat of her rains,
+  And I laugh in my soul with God,
+  At the lash of her hurricanes.
+  I have dipped in her amethyst bowl,
+  And painted me splendid dreams,
+  But I know the clutch of a dreadful fear,
+  When her crawling jungle screams.
+  I have felt the kiss of her fever,
+  That she hides in her tainted breath,
+  And have heard the roll of her drums,
+  When they beat their songs of death.
+  I have trailed with her treacherous spawn,
+  And sinned with her exiled band;
+  I am tuned to her siren voice,
+  And seared with her vicious brand.
+  I know the taste of her poisoned bread,
+  I am drunk with her evil wine,
+  But I am in thrall to her Cross,
+  Since she marked me with its Sign.
+
+
+
+
+FOR AN ELIZABETHAN GARLAND
+
+
+  It is content I give to you,
+          And you?
+        You give me love.
+  But I would have the sweet content,
+          And you?
+        Would you have love?
+
+
+
+
+WHEN I REMEMBER
+
+
+  You never come and speak to me when I am glad,
+  But only if the flowers in my garden droop with rain,
+  And when the sunlight runs away from skies gone mad,
+  Then I am hushed, and hear your voice again.
+  Although I light my lamp and bar the door,
+  I feel your presence crowding, more and more,
+  Until I crouch among the shadows on the floor,
+  And watch my memories dance their dance of pain.
+
+
+
+
+THE WAYFARER
+
+
+  Only the wind from the Seven Hills
+    Can mate with the heart of me,
+  And the mist, adrift on the cliffs at night,
+    That blows from the dusky sea.
+
+  Only the song of the flying stars
+    Can reach to my muted soul,
+  And speed my feet on the wild, free track
+    That swings from Pole to Pole.
+
+  I spell my lore from the sand of dreams,
+    I sleep by eternal meres,
+  My stirrup-cup is the kiss of dawn,
+    My hearth is the boundless spheres.
+
+
+
+
+PIERROT
+
+
+  Pierrot came and watched me
+    Sewing on my seam,
+  And handed me gay, silken threads,
+    Broken from a dream.
+
+  He helped me trim the lantern
+    That hangs beside my door,
+  And brought me petaled thoughts
+    To sprinkle on the floor.
+
+  He picked a rose and left me,
+    In the shadowed light,
+  But I found the gate ajar,
+    Swinging in the night.
+
+  Then I ran and gathered stars,
+    From the hollows of the sea,
+  And pinned them on my breast--
+    Pierrot called to me.
+
+
+
+
+TO LY-Y-HANE
+
+_Chinese Poetess, 12th Century A. D._[1]
+
+
+  Once I heard a singing wind,
+    Across a still lagoon,
+  I thought a thousand bells of jade
+    Were swinging in the moon.
+
+  And once, I felt soft petals
+    Fall from a flowering quince,
+  And trembled when I half divined
+    Your song, that died long since.
+
+  Above the dread and somber beat
+    Of mighty, dragon wings,
+  Perhaps my quiet heart will hear
+    Your lute of silver strings.
+
+[1]
+
+_LY-Y-HANE_
+
+LY-Y-HANE _lived during the Song Dynasty, in the 12th century of our
+era. She is admired, not only as a clever and graceful composer of
+verses, but as a superior intellect and a true scholar, accustomed to
+all the minutiae and intricacies of the art of poetry._
+
+_The incurable wound of her heart, bleeding in solitude, is practically
+the only subject with which she deals._
+
+_As far as can be known, the love that devours this Chinese Sappho is
+ignored by him who inspires it._
+
+_One might say she was a flower become enamoured of a bird. The
+changing seasons are the only events, the objects that adorn her home
+the only evidences of a life consecrated to the expression of a single
+sentiment._
+
+_She lived entombed with her suffering, hoping never to be deprived of
+it or cured, and she named in advance the volume that posterity would
+perhaps collect of all her scattered verses: “The Debris of My Heart.”_
+
+From _The Book of Jade_. (Translated by James Whittall.)
+
+
+
+
+WIND OF THE SEA
+
+
+  The Wind of the Sea is my turbulent lover,
+  When he gathers me close and kisses my face,
+  I rise to the zenith, there to discover
+  Peace, in surrender to his fierce embrace;
+  He holds me and folds me in whirlpools of light,
+  Then lulls me to sleep, in his arms, with the night.
+
+
+
+
+PERHAPS
+
+
+  It must be hard to be the Moon,
+    And weary of the sky;
+  Although I weary of my path,
+    Someday I can die,
+  But then perhaps I’ll trail with her,
+    And weary of the sky!
+
+
+
+
+IN THE STREET OF PAINTED FLOWERS
+
+
+  When will the whirl of this wheel be done?
+  Does the Spinner dream, and my shroud unspun?
+  I am spent with the lust of greedy nights,
+  The fitful flame, and greying lights
+  Masking joy, in this devil’s dance,
+  That has tripped my feet on the road of Chance.
+  My song is hushed, and once it sped,
+  As water ripples the river’s bed,
+  Through laughing days in the gay bazars,
+  And freed my soul beneath the stars.
+  Now I am bought, as then I was sold,
+  But Allah witness, this is not gold,
+  But tinsel coin, that eats my heart,
+  And sets me aside, a thing apart.
+  Does Heaven sleep, that it lets me be,
+  And blinds my eyes, that I may not see
+  The sun, that came to kiss my cheek
+  When I stepped from my tent to the waiting Sheik?
+  I am sick for the sound of camels’ feet
+  Padding their way through the languid heat,
+  The scent of cool on the evening air,
+  And the grip of the muezzin’s call to prayer.
+  In those desert nights, where the shadows clung
+  To the blowing sand, that swirled and stung,
+  When my lord bent down and I knew his lips,
+  I was fulfilled to my finger tips.
+  Then, I was slave to a king, at least,
+  Now, I am slave to a furtive beast.
+  Did Allah mock, when he stilled my breath,
+  Then called me back from the paths of death,
+  To dance to the tune of reeling spheres,
+  With only a dream to bridge the years?
+  Ash is the flame of my painted shell,
+  I have no heart save the desert’s spell,
+  Mine is the fugitive soul of a slave,
+  And I would go back to my sand-swept grave.
+
+
+
+
+MYSTERY
+
+
+  I bear on my breast the touch and sign
+    Of God and His oriflamme,
+  But only the somber eyes of Death
+    Can tell me who I am.
+
+
+
+
+WATCH-FIRES
+
+
+  I care not if the touch of Time
+  Destroys the outer garment of my heart,
+  For deep within, steadfast, a living fire,
+  Love burns, and guards your shrine apart.
+
+  I care not if Death’s borders hold
+  A splendid peace, deep as an unshoaled sea,
+  I count peace only in the quiet joy
+  That comes, when you are glad with me.
+
+  I care not if the ruthless years
+  Shadow my soul, in passing on their flight,
+  If, through the devastating dark, I know
+  Your love, a tidal-wave of light.
+
+
+
+
+TOKENS
+
+
+  I built a little fire yesterday at dusk,
+  To burn the gifts of all my broken years,
+  And at the last I tossed upon the flames,
+  The crystalled drops, that once were falling tears.
+
+  When morning came, I gathered all the ashes up,
+  Then swept my hearth, to make it clean again,
+  And found, within a crevice of the stones,
+  A jewel, that I knew had once been pain.
+
+
+
+
+CAMEO
+
+
+  A little room, a dream-lit hearth,
+    Rosemary in a bowl of jade;
+  Budding orchard, thrush’s song,
+    A golden morning, dappled shade.
+
+  A steel-blue sea, the wind’s high will,
+    A red sun dropping down the sky,
+  Purple shadows on the dunes,
+    Upon the road, just you and I.
+
+
+
+
+BLUE FLAMES AND FLOWERS
+
+
+  Blue flames, shining in my heart--
+    Twice lovely stars,
+  Dear lips, folded close with mine,
+    Sweet as scented jars,
+
+  If a myriad scarlet flowers,
+    In a jasper bowl,
+  Distilled to leaping fires,
+    Could weld us soul to soul,
+
+  I would go across the heavens,
+    After night had gone,
+  And gather for you dreams,
+    In the gardens of the dawn.
+
+
+
+
+THE LAW
+
+
+  Out of the dark of a night of rain,
+  Day has flowered to light again;
+  And from the silence the ages long,
+  Has come the joy of a wood-bird’s song.
+
+  Broken souls in a barren vale,
+  Created the need for a Holy Grail;
+  And blasphemous sin painted for me,
+  The pale, red bloom of the Judas tree.
+
+  The costly price of hallowed tears
+  Has sown the wastes through countless years;
+  And over a crimson, riven sod
+  Lies a clear, white road that leads to God.
+
+
+
+
+MIRACLE
+
+
+  It is so long ago I lived,
+  Holding back the hours
+  That sped through days of golden light,
+  And brought me laughing showers.
+  It is so long ago I died
+  To shut my heart from pain,
+  And yet, you reach your hands to me,
+  And bid me love again.
+
+
+
+
+VALUES
+
+
+  I hear you crying for the Moon,
+    When she drifts proudly by,
+  And see you reaching for the wealth,
+    She scatters in the sky.
+
+  While I crave only strands of gold
+    That fringe your melody,
+  And moon-flowers growing in my heart,
+    When you are kind to me.
+
+
+
+
+FAME
+
+
+  I lay on the edge of desert sands,
+        And watched It dance;
+  Mirage was painted before my eyes,
+        With brush of chance.
+
+  I followed the track of the Phantom
+        Down to the sea,
+  And found that only a chill, spent wind
+        Had called to me.
+
+
+
+
+RAINBOW
+
+
+  There was a house of many rooms,
+    Windows and walls and doors,
+  Where shadows etched the ceilings,
+    And crept across the floors.
+
+  There sunlight only flickered,
+    And seemed a wanton ghost
+  Lavishing an empty feast,
+    Upon a motley host.
+
+  When I left that changeling home,
+    I hid my ragged scars,
+  Then bound my heart with singing days,
+    And night-time climbed the stars.
+
+
+
+
+GLASS BEADS
+
+
+  I was a mendicant, begging my bread
+    From pilgrims shouting the dawn,
+  And they gave me thorns that tore my robe,
+    And took my prayers in pawn.
+
+  But now, outside the Temple door,
+    I stand and let them pass;
+  While I watch for the sun on the Eastern hills,
+    They fumble beads of glass.
+
+
+
+
+WILLOWS
+
+
+  When I loitered on the paths
+    Of gay and vivid hours,
+  My songs all ran away and hid,
+    And seemed afraid of flowers.
+
+  But in among the shadows,
+    Beneath the willow tree,
+  All my little unsung songs
+    Come singing back to me.
+
+
+
+
+THE DEAD LOVER
+
+
+  You say I am dead, that my being
+  Has passed with intangible dreams;
+  You hold me a shadow of shadows,
+  One moat in myriad beams.
+
+  But I am the yield of the harvest,
+  Astir in the ripening corn;
+  My voice is the wind of the forest,
+  I breathe and impregnate the dawn.
+
+  I spring from the womb of the ocean,
+  And rise in its flying foam,
+  Till I merge with the quickening rain
+  That falls on the fertile loam.
+
+  Dear of my heart, when the moonlight
+  Comes dusting the shimmering grass,
+  You may lie unveiled in your bridal,
+  My lips are on yours as I pass.
+
+  You say I am dead, that communion
+  Has spilled from our sacrament bowl,
+  Nay, Love, I am seed of Creation,
+  Immutable flame with the Whole.
+
+
+
+
+LITTLE WHITE GATE
+
+
+  Little painted, wooden gate,
+    Swinging in and out,
+  Crickets chirping in the grass,
+    Honey-bees about;
+
+  Hollyhocks and marigolds
+    Laughing in the sun,
+  Where quiet pools of shadows
+    Ripple, one by one;
+
+  Friendly glow of lamplight
+    Across the window sill.
+  From the dark a plaintive voice
+    Calling “Whippoor-will.”
+
+  Moonlight trailing up the path
+    Draperies of foam,
+  Spell for me contentment,
+    And the peace of home.
+
+
+
+
+IMMORTAL
+
+
+  Was he king or a bonded slave?
+    The beauty he sang still sings,
+  Vibrant as falling stars
+    In the path of radiant wings.
+
+  Does he sleep where the laurel grows?
+    Did he beg his cup and his bread?
+  He left the sign of his joy,
+    And he lives with the mighty dead.
+
+  Marked by the print of his feet,
+    The dust of this ancient floor
+  Glows, spun-flame in the dark,
+    What matters the name that he bore!
+
+
+
+
+MY COMMUNION
+
+
+  Cupped in the hollow of your hands,
+  You hold my hidden fears,
+  My faith, the songs within my joy,
+        And all my tears.
+
+  Within the chalice of your heart,
+  There brims compassion’s mead,
+  Bounty of foaming drink for me
+        To quench my need.
+
+  I grave the pattern of my love
+  Upon your spirit’s bowl,
+  And in the splendour of your wine,
+        I steep my soul.
+
+
+
+
+STARS
+
+
+  When I watch a pale, green sky,
+    At night, upon the hills,
+  I wonder if my garden bears
+    Such blowing daffodils;
+  And if the lustre of my dreams
+    Comes from those amber rills.
+
+
+
+
+DISAPPOINTMENTS
+
+
+  In the Valley of Nadir lies a deep, black pool,
+  And it mirrors only rainy harvest moons;
+  In the fringes of its grasses are little bleached, white bones,
+  And broken, faded ribbons, from gaudy, pricked balloons.
+  Restless shadows stumble ’round it, through the hot nights and the cool,
+  And their crippled feet are weighted down with stones;
+  Sometimes an echo whispers of golden, summer noons,
+  But you only hear the wind there, when it moans.
+
+
+
+
+INTERLUDE
+
+
+  When Night-time stoops to lay her hands
+    Upon my tired eyes,
+  And strings her silver lanterns
+    Across the curtained skies,
+
+  Reflected in the mirror,
+    She holds above my sleep--
+  I see a golden lotus,
+    She bids me pick and keep.
+
+  Then, drugged, my soul goes speeding
+    Across a dream-swept plain,
+  Until I stumble back at dawn,
+    To break my heart again.
+
+
+
+
+TO MY FATHER
+
+
+  Although you touched my life so brief a time,
+  Because of you, I tread the stressful years
+  With courage, patterned from your quiet strength,
+  And laughter tempering my meed of tears.
+
+  Because of you, I hold and reverence books,
+  High in my heart, as is my creed of song,
+  And to the imprint of your kindliness,
+  The measure of my love and faith belong.
+
+  Because you held my hand that little while,
+  I know a joy in all green, growing things,
+  And rapture, when strong music breaks, and soars
+  A veil of flame on iridescent wings.
+
+  Your love has framed the window of my life,
+  And as I watch the twilight creeping through,
+  I know whatever sacraments I share
+  With peace and beauty, are because of you.
+
+
+
+
+CONFESSIONAL
+
+
+  Red fire of dawn burning in the sky,
+  Leaping from the purple embers of the night,
+  A sovereign glory in a sapphire cup,
+        This is my altar light.
+
+  Rising from an early-kindled hearth,
+  A pungent veil of smoke spirals in the air,
+  And seems the incense drifting on my heart,
+        That sanctifies my prayer.
+
+  From beyond uncharted seas the wind,
+  Like pilgrim priest, comes to bless the waking sod,
+  And shrives me in my penitence, then bears
+        My sorrow up to God.
+
+
+
+
+RECOMPENSE
+
+
+  Though Hunger shuffles up the path,
+    And leaves his pack of scars,
+  When songs sweep through my heart--
+    Bright sails on golden spars,
+  I breathe the dust of lilies,
+    Asleep among the stars.
+
+
+
+
+MOCKERY
+
+
+  I dreamed Love came with golden thong,
+    And bound me to his wrist,
+  Then swept me out on winds of flame,
+    Through space the sun had kissed.
+
+  Instead, Love came in jester’s garb,
+    Flaunting his cap and bells,
+  And led me to a far, strange tent,
+    Beside dead, desert wells.
+
+
+
+
+REBELLION
+
+
+  If Death should scatter poppy-dust
+    Across my path tonight,
+  Then wrap me in his cold, dark cloak,
+    And shut me from the light.
+
+  If he should point a strange, still way,
+    How could I bear to go,
+  And never feel again the sun,
+    Nor watch a primrose grow?
+
+
+
+
+THE MESSENGER
+
+
+  When you walk a lonely road,
+    Hand in hand with pain,
+  Do you see the broken leaves,
+    Trodden by the rain?
+
+  My heart was like a folded leaf,
+    On an April tree;
+  Listen to the rain at night,
+    And know your hurt to me.
+
+
+
+
+“NEEDLES AND PINS”
+
+
+  Goblins came and took me
+        Long ago,
+  Tossed me up and down the years,
+        To and fro.
+
+  Drove me to surrender
+        All my faith,
+  And chuckled when they bound me
+        To a wraith.
+
+  But came a time the goblins
+        Lost their zest
+  For planting stones within my heart,
+        As a jest.
+
+  They left me in the garden
+        With the weeds,
+  And there I found my faith again,
+        Sowing seeds.
+
+
+
+
+TO JUNE
+
+
+  June dreams.
+  The twilight world’s a-hush,
+  The meadows flame with colors from a master’s brush,
+  And in my garden roses droop and blush;
+  June sleeps and dreams.
+
+  The singing wind blows gently through her sleep,
+  While friendly, fragrant shadows keep
+  Their vigils, beautiful and deep,
+  With June, who dreams.
+
+  Communion with my watching heart I hold,
+  Until the day comes to unfold
+  Her laughing hours, steeped in gold,
+  For June, who dreams.
+
+
+
+
+TO CONGDON
+
+
+  When I look among the shadows in my soul,
+  I am glad for every scar and sin;
+  (Oh, little child, upon the threshold of my heart, Stay within!)
+
+  I will mould to golden-tinted globes of pearl,
+  My rebellion, with each bruising shame,
+  And kindled from my dark, their light will keep your dreams
+  Star-frost and flame.
+
+  Then I will mend all broken songs of mine,
+  To thread them on a many-colored string,
+  That you may count them, as you lean against my heart,
+  And learn to sing.
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s Notes
+
+ • Italics represented with surrounding _underscores_.
+
+ • Small caps converted to ALL CAPS.
+
+ • Obvious typographic errors silently corrected.
+
+ • Footnote numbered and consolidated to the end of the relevant poem.
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77093 ***