Chapter I: Front Matter

ESCAPE
AND FANTASY

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO · DALLAS
ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO

MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE

THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO

ESCAPE
AND FANTASY

Poems

BY
GEORGE ROSTREVOR

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1919
_All rights reserved_

COPYRIGHT, 1919,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and printed from type. Published February, 1919.

Norwood Press
J.S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

TO
MARION

CONTENTS

PAGE

THE CHANGE 9

ORPHEUS 11

THE RIVER 16

MOMENTS 17

THOUGHTS 19

TIDAL, KING OF NATIONS 20

THE VOICE (AN ECSTASY) 23

SPRING RAIN IN LONDON 35

LOTUS EATERS 36

THE GREY BIRD 37

ELYSIUM 40

ETERNITY 41

THE SEA-MAID 43

THE CELL 47

THE ASCETICS 48

CONSPIRACIES 50

A RHYME OF FAITH 52

THE SHINING POND 53

THE HAUNTED STREET 56

THE CHANGE

All the daytime I belong
To the solemn-coated throng
Who with grave, stupendous looks
Study cash and ledger books,
Or who go,
Staid and slow,
On sad business to and fro.

But when twilight comes, I range
Over topics new and strange,
Wasting all my leisure hours
On fay birds and phantom flowers,
Or I sing
Some mad fling
Through the impish evening.

Yes, and when the moon goes by
Rocking in a foamy sky,
Then I swear I’m more akin
To the laughing Cherubin
Than to those grave men who go,
To and fro, to and fro,
On sad business to and fro.

ORPHEUS

Hush, thou noisy nightingale,
Let thy sorrowful song be mute.
Orpheus, with his lute,
Sings to the vale.

Weather-smitten, travel-worn,
Fever-eyed and frail is he,
Orpheus, Orpheus, the forlorn
Of Eurydice.

Trembling like a crazy shadow
When a gust is in the trees,
Phantom-like he flees
Over mere and meadow.

Twinkle on the lute his fingers.
Hark! a ghostly music swings,
Echoes, falls, echoes, lingers,
Orpheus sings:--

To-day, to-morrow,
There is sorrow,
But when Night,
Holy Night,
Putteth on
Her sober gown,
Then is there delight.

Take thy fill
Of rest, rest,
O separate will,--
Wayward, wayward, wayward will
Of each wild creature, take thy rest
Lulled on the breast
Of the cool dark hill.

Very deep,
O baffled will,
Be thy sleep
On the sombre hill.
But heart of the world, awake, awake,
For Orpheus’ sake!

Hungry lion, do not howl!
Supple tiger tawny-barred,
Chattering monkey, chequered snake,
Privy wolf and spotted pard,
Creatures that do use to prowl
Through the forest, let you lie,--
Not a sound, not a cry,--
Soothèd by my lullaby.

Cease, unquiet owl, to moan,
Folded keep thy stealthy wings;
Nightjar, stay thy monotone,
Listen, listen, Orpheus sings.
Shut you every wakeful eye
Soothèd by my lullaby.

Very deep
Be thy sleep,
Cruel, cruel, cruel will,
Very deep
Be thy sleep
On the sombre hill.

But, O heart, awake, awake,
Wake and leap for Orpheus’ sake!
Heart of all the world, awake
For Orpheus’ sake!

Cloudy waters of the sky
Flow no longer; listening stars
Stop their silver-wheelèd cars,
Conquered by my lullaby.
Each one, smitten by my spell,
Holds him like a sentinel.

Beauty on the brow of Night
So complete is that despair,
Gazing like a statue there,
Changes to a grave delight.
Never hath the swart Night been
So unparalleled a queen.

Very deep
Is thy sleep,
Wayward, wayward, wayward will,
Very deep
Is thy sleep
On the sombre hill.
But the heart, the heart is awake,
Beating high for Orpheus’ sake,
Everywhere awake, awake,
For Orpheus’ sake.

THE RIVER

Why, O River, on thy breast,
Why do the trees so sweetly rest?

Why so royal does the black barge sail
On thy water smooth and pale?

Why does the rough-tongued river-man sing
Like a minstrel to a king?

Why, O quiet River, do I
See in thee so clear a sky?

MOMENTS

I’ve seen the rich dark earth fling up
Cuckoo-flower and buttercup,
I’ve heard the meadows burst with song
Of thrush and blackbird all day long,
I’ve seen the burning sun go by
With a pomp of cloud in the roofless sky,
I’ve heard the wind whistle and shout
And toss the tallest oaks about,
I’ve seen, I’ve heard the flash and the call
Of the distant thundering waterfall ...

My soul turns back to me again
At twilight. All the day like rain
It has scattered itself in drops and flashes
And moments of colour, and sudden splashes,
Has flown and mixed with the single notes
Quick-pouring from the song-birds’ throats,
Losing itself and multiplying,
Living a thousand lives and dying.

My busy eyes at the fall of day
I close: I shut the world away.
Now no star may pierce the gloom
Of my fragile-curtained room,
But flowers more wonderful and trees more tall
Bloom in the dark there; sweet dews fall;
Silence cries with the ghost of sound;
Flashes of colour and tune are found
Linked in one. I hear, I hear
The voice of Spring cry out to me there,
And the voice of Spring is the voice of Love
Crying below, around, above,
While--in the dark of my body--his eyes
Burn more deep than star-flushed skies.

THOUGHTS

If in a giant brain
The thoughts of the world could lie,
How darkly would each cell be lit,
What phantoms pale would people it,
Flocking, flocking by:
Thoughts of things that jerk or leap,
Things that flit in the sky or creep
In the atomy dust, or swarm in the deep,
Leviathan or fly!

Fugitive, feeble, vain--
The giant would fall asleep,
And they in millions would be gone
For ever to oblivion,
Far down deep:
Thought of toad and thought of lark,
Crab and crocodile and shark,
Armadillo, aard-vark,
Terrapin and sheep.

TIDAL, KING OF NATIONS

... _and Tidal, king of nations_--

GENESIS xiv

Tidal, King of Nations,
Sent a proclamation forth
To the tribes of the South
And the clans of the North;

His word flew and travelled
Quick as a gathering flame,
The far-off people shook
At the rumour of his name.

Tidal, King of Nations,
Thy name is for thee,
Shadowy and vast,
An immortality.

* * * * *

Tidal, King of Nations--
Lo, at the sound
Terrible armies leap
Crying from the ground.

High in the midst, on
A white throne is He,
Set as a firm rock
In the surge of the sea.

Clear as the moon his brow is,
But in his secret eyes
Shadow within shadow dark
The future lies.

In his hand glitters
The phantom of a sword;
The warring peoples cry
And hail him for lord:

But within his dark eyes
Where future time grows
Are gentleness, mercy,
Peace and repose.

The nations bow and tremble,
They do not understand,
They only see the gleam
Of the wrath in his hand.

* * * * *

Tidal, King of Nations,
Thy name is for thee,--
Oh, far-off brotherhood!--
An immortality.

THE VOICE

(AN ECSTASY)