Chapter I: HAVE strayed from silent places,

Where the days are dreaming always; And fair summer lies a-dying, Roses withered on her breast. I have stolen all her beauty, All her softness, all her sweetness; In her robe of folden sunshine I am drest.

I will breathe a mist about me Lest you see my face too clearly, Lest you follow me too boldly I will silence every song. Through the haze and through the silence You will know that I am passing; When you break the spell that holds you, I am gone!

The Unchanged

IF we could salvage Babylon From times's grim heap of dust and bones; If we could charm cool waters back To sing against her thirsty stones; If, on a day, We two should stray Down some long, Babylonian way-- Perhaps the strangest sight of all Would be the street boys playing ball.

If through Pompeii's agelong night A yellow sun again might shine, And little, sea-born breezes lift The hair of lovers sipping wine, If, in some fair, Dim temple there, We watched Pompeii come to prayer-- Not the strange altar would surprise But strangeness of familiar eyes!

Ay, should our magic straightly wake Atlantis from her sea-rocked sleep And we on some Processional Look down where dancing maidens leap, If one flushed maid Beside us stayed To tie more firm her loosened braid-- Would not the shaking wonder be To find her just like you and me?

Indifference

A BIRD, a wild-flower and a tree-- I care for them, not they for me.

I see all heaven in a pool-- But the frog there takes me for a fool.

To this dead thrush a tear I gave-- All Spring shall sing above my grave,

And naught I spend my heart upon Know lack or loss that I am gone--

A bird, a wild-flower and a tree, I cherish them; they suffer me!

Last Things

THERE is no one to do it for me,
But I know what I shall do
When the last dawn breaks o'er me
And the last night is through.

I shall set in pleasant order
The little books I knew,
With flowers on the window ledge
In a shallow bowl of blue.

I'll leave the out door swinging,
(As it might swing for you)
And on the clean swept door-sill
Wild roses I shall strew--

So when pale Death comes trailing
Her branch of sodden rue
She'll gather up my gay content
And know contentment too!

Callous Cupid

CUPID does not care for sighs Does not care for lover's weeping! Fair One, dry your pretty eyes, Cupid does not care for sighs, Laugh with him if you are wise, Steel the heart he has in keeping; Cupid does not care for sighs Does not care for lover's weeping!

The Meeting

SHE flitted by me on the stair-- A moment since I knew not of her. A look, a smile--she passed! but where She flitted by me on the stair Joy cradled exquisite despair; For who am I that I should love her? She flitted by me on the stair-- A moment since I knew not of her!

The Piper

I'VE heard the pipes of Pan Somewhere, just beyond,-- Over the edge of dawn, I think, Where the clouds hang soft on the world's dim brink, Where the red suns rise and the blue stars sink, I heard the pipes of Pan!

Hush! what you heard was the wind, The feet of the wind through the leaves, Or the sigh of the waking night as it stirred. Or a bird's note afar, Or the deep breath of June, Or the fall of a star, Or the shimmering skirts of the sea-slipping tide In the wake of the wandering moon!

Nay! 'twas the pipes of Pan! Somewhere--just beyond-- My soul awoke with a rapturous sigh (Would I wake my soul for a night bird's cry?) I heard the winds of the worlds sweep by To follow the pipes of Pan!

Stay! 'twas a voice that you heard, A voice that you love, in the wood, The vibrating note of a half spoken word-- For the great Pan is slain, Of his pipings we know not one magical strain, They have fled down the years of a world that was young Oh, ages and ages ago!

Nay, 'twas the pipes of Pan! Somewhere--just beyond-- Far as a star, yet piercing sweet, A passionate, poignant, rhythmic beat-- Till my mad blood raced with my racing feet To follow the piper--Pan!

Wanderlust

THE highways and the byways, the kind sky folding all, And never a care to drag me back and never a voice to call; Only the call of the long, white road to the far horizon's wall.

The glad seas and the mad seas, the seas on a night in June, And never a hand to beckon back from the path of the new-lit moon; Never a night that lasts too long or a dawn that breaks too soon!

The shrill breeze and the hill breeze, the sea breeze, fierce and bold, And never a breeze that gives the lie to a tale that a breeze has told; Always the tale of the strange and new in the countries strange and old.

The lone trail and the known trail, the trail you must take on trust, And never a trail without a grave where a wanderer's bones are thrust-- Never a look or a turning back till the dust shall claim the dust!

Gold

WHEN life wakened in the Spring
All the world was gold and green!
Sunlight lay on everything,
Sailing cloud and soaring wing,
Emerald banks where snow had been,
Drifts of daffodils between.

When Life's pulse beat strong and high
Shone the world in gold and blue!
Canopied with turquoise sky
Summer passed superbly by,
Bluest midnight cupped the dew
Golden morn might sparkle through!

Now that life would rest again
Soft she lies in gold and brown,
Brown the fields and gold the grain,
Brown the little pools of rain,
Gold the leaves that falter down
To brown pavements in the town.

The Materialist

MY soul has left its tent of clay
And seeks from star to star,
'Mid flaming worlds that are to be,
And fruitful worlds that are,
The Voice which spake and said "Live on!"
(When Death said, "You may die")
And sent my spirit wandering
The stairway of the sky.

Still must I seek what on the earth
I sought as fruitlessly--
The world I knew, the heaven I scorned
Lost in infinity:
Alone, and on the ageless breath
Of cosmic whirlwinds spun,
I hurtle through the outer dark
Toward some fantastic sun!--

O God! how happy is the leaf,
A sweet and soulless thing,
Dying to live but in the green
Of yet another Spring--
These heights, these depths, these flaming worlds,
This stairway of the sky
I'd give, had no Voice said "Live on!"
When Death said, "You may die."

Tir Nan Og

THE breeze blows out from the land and it seeks the sea,
O and O! that my sail were set and away--
Fast and free on its wings would my sailing be
To the west: to the Tir Nan Og, where the blessed stay!

The darkness stirs, it awakes, it outspreads its arms,
O and O! and the birds in their nests are still,
The red-browed hill bleats low with the lamb's alarms,
And a sound of singing comes from the slipping rill.

My soul is awake alone, all alone in the earth,
O and O! and around is the lonely night.
As with the sun, would my soul go forth to its birth--
O'er the darkling sea, to the west--to the light, to the light!

Do they say, "Be content with the land of the Innis Fail,
O and O! there is friendship here, there is song."
But they smile to your face, when you turn they stammer and rail
And the song of the singer has tears and is over long!

A call comes out of the west and it calls a name,
O and O! it is soft, it is far, it is low--
Sweet, so sweet that it touches my soul with a flame
That burns the heart from my breast with the wish to go!

(Translated from the Celtic.)

The Little Man in Green

'TWAS a little man in green,
And he sat upon a stone;
And he sat there all alone,
Whispering.

"One and two," so whispered he.
('Twas an ancient man and hoar)
"One and two," and then no more--
Never, "Three".

Hawthorn trees were quick with May--
"Sir," said I, "Good-day to you"!
But he counted. "One and two"
In strange way.

Fool I was--oh, fool was I
(Who should know the ways of them!)
That I touched his cloak's green hem,
Passing by.

I was fey with spring and mirth--
Speaking him without a thought--
Now is joy a thing forgot
On the earth.

Ere the sweet thorn-buds were through,
Wife and child doom-stricken lay,
Cold as winter, white as spray--
"One and two!"

Now I seek eternally
That grim Counter of the fen,
Praying he may count again--
Counting, "Three".

* In the bad chance of a meeting with the "Little People" the mortal is cautioned not to speak to them nor to touch, but to pass by quickly with averted eye.--Old tale.

The Enchantress