Chapter II: Someone sings in the street below (2)

With sword in hand across the grass

To thwart us, so we may not pass

Within the tower-gate."

"Too late,"

She said: "We may not win the gate.

Yet now, true friend, though I must burn

At Rimini, time is to learn

One little lesson more of love:

What would you?"

"That I die your knight."

Eh, truly?" So she held above

And touched him with his jagged sword,

And whispered low the crowning word

Which flooded all his face with light.

He said, "I shall not fear to die."

She raised him, smiling wondrously,

Nor I to ride to Rimini,

When you have died my knight."

Twelve lancers circled into sight.

Count Ugo gallopped through the green

And laughed at that which he had seen.

And yet one lover more?" scoffed he,

God's death, you use them royally;

Maids grow less bold in Rimini."

My only lover and my last,"

She said. He scowled and caught her fast,

Twisting his steel-glove in her hair,

Jerked back her head, her eyes on him,

So that her throat and breasts shone bare

Above her corset's jewelled rim.

Too good for fuel," he hissed, "too fair;

Yet those pale cheeks, this yellow hair,

Were not too good to deal out death.

Eh? Hark to what the vixen saith,

'She did not sin, nor meant to kill.'

My son lies dead, say what you will;

Lies dead because of you, you witch,

While leprous things in our town's ditch

Crawl, mate, and spawn beneath God's sky;

Therefore. . .

He raised his hand on high

As he would smite her upturned face.

A sword leapt flashing down through space

And lopt the coward at the joint.

Corrado on his blade's red point

Pricked up the hand, "Tis thus we use

Our dastard knights, whose hands abuse

Our womenfolk in Reggio."

The thunder rumbled long and low.

Oh hark," she cried, "God is awake;

He walks communing for our sake."

Yea, He hath sent me here to take

Your wilful body to the fire,

Till all is marred that men desire.

Slay me that boy," Count Ugo said.

One, who stood near, smote off his head.

She hid her eyes so as not to see,

Shuddered, swung round convulsively,

Stooped as a broken lily dips

To kiss the water--kissed his lips;

Then dumbly rode to Rimini.

And every pace the march along

The hunters sang their hunting song,

_" Bianca of the yellow hair,

With witch-face white as ivory,

Thy tender body back we bear

To die the death in Rimini."_

Within the lands of rising night

And fields of departing day,

What hours we wandered, you and I,

How fain were we to stay!

Star-flowers were in your maiden hands--

The stars were white with May.

Between moon-set and morning sun

Where mist of the Dreamland lies,

What glory there was yours and mine,

What love was in our eyes!

For Sleep and Love walk hand-in-hand,

And Sleep with morning flies.

Our star-lit land was wholly ours,

No warning of beast or bird

Perturbed the twilight of our peace,

No watchers' tread was heard;

We dwelt alone and loved alone,

Naught save our lips was stirred.

Would that this holiest mystery

Might come again to me!

The radiance of thy moon-lit face,

The eyes of purity--

The wide gray eyes, the beckoning lips,

The silent cloudland sea.

DAYBREAK

In frenzied haste, by legioned shadows pressed,

The Chariot of Charity in flight

Glittered along the Parapet of Night,

With wheels of gold fast whirling to the West.

Bridging with flame the barricaded Deep,

It strove with sparking hoof and spangled heat,

Where those twin rivers, Death and Life, retreat,

And surge across the Agony of Sleep.

I, to my casement, stark with horror crept;

Day tottered tall, and breathed a shuddering

breath:

Wading, knee-deep, the turgid fords of Death,

He clomb the cloven cliff of Dawn--and leapt.

A hand of ivory caught up the rein;

The Chariot rolled back superb again.

HOME

We shall not always dwell as now we dwell,

Together 'neath one home-protecting roof.

For some of us our lives may not go well:
'Gainst such small perils courage will be proof,
'Gainst stronger ills these memories may be proof;

To some of us this life may say farewell--

We cannot always dwell as now we dwell.

What though we dwell not then as now we dwell?

Hearts can recover hearts, when hearts are fain;

While love stays with us everything is well;

The roof of love is proof against the rain,

Dead hands will guard our hearts against the rain--

Love will abide when all have said farewell:

Our hearts may ever dwell as now they dwell.

VANISHED LOVE

When my love was nigh me

Naught had I to say:

Then I feigned a false love--

And turned my lips away.

When my love lay dying,

Sorrowing I said,

'Soon shall I wear scarlet,

Because my love is dead.'

When my love had vanished,

Then was nothing said:

I forgot the scarlet

For tears--and bowed my head.

THALATTA! THALATTA!

Not with a cry, nor with the stifled sound

Of one who 'neath Death's billows of Despair

Thrusts up blue lips toward the outer air,

Searching if any breathing may be found;

Who plucks with groping finger-tips to rend

The water's edges for a fraction's space,

Through which he may push up his haggard face

For one last look--the last before the end.

As a broad river, having journeyed far

Constrained by banks--too often fretfully--

'Neath a full moon goes rocking out to sea

Sombred by night, cheered by a rising star,

So may my days move murmurously to rest,

Throbbed through with Death who knew Life's

sorrows best.

TO ENGLAND'S GREATEST SATIRIST

Untriend to man and darkly passionate,

Sneering in solitude, wide-winged for flight

Lest one, from all our world, should read thee right

And pity thee thy self-lured madman's fate,

Why did'st thou strive so well to tempt our hate?

Are we not comrades through the self-same night?

The Caravan of Kindness, out of sight,

We also follow--and arrive o'erlate.

Thou, having failed thy Heaven, did'st scoff in

Hell.

Fiercely disguising, too much thou did'st dare;

We caught the jangle of the cap and bell,

And seeking, saw a quivering heart laid bare

When thou wast dead--a sequel which did spell

The pangs of love--"only a woman's hair."

[_N. B. "In a note in his biography, Scott says that his friend, Doctor Tuke of Dublin, has a lock of Stella's hair, enclosed in a paper by Swift, on which are written, in the Dean's hand, the words: 'Only a woman's hair.' An instance, says Scott, of the Dean's desire to veil his feelings under the mask of cynical indifference."--Thackeray in his Essay on Dean Swift._]

Years hence we two--I who wept yesterday,

You who with death-chilled hands unheeding lay--

Gazing from Heaven adown the sky's wild face,

Seeing this pigmy planet churning space,

Do you remember?" then we two shall say,

Quite in the dear old-fashioned worldly way,

Do you remember, in a former age,

What happened in that girdled finite cage?"

And you, through joy having forgot your pain,

Laughing will shake your head and rack your brain,

Clasping my hand and thinking all in vain.

No," you will say, "it is a distant way

From grief to God; my memories go astray."

Then, I, staring athwart the jewelled pit

Which God hath dug between the infinite

And the great little loss of death's decay,

Will tell you all that happened yesterday.

Don't you recall, dear, how the fierce blow came?

Earth was at Spring-tide, all the fields aflame;

Hope was just freed from Winter's servitude

And songsters through the tree-tops he had strewed,

And promises of greenness in the wood,

While you, dear, grew in grace to womanhood."

Then you: "I would remember if I could,

But all is vague. Faint, like a far off strain,

I catch the rustle of field-flowers again

And hear the muffled skirmish of the rain."

Don't you recall, dear, anything of pain?"

Nothing," you whisper.

Then I tell to you

How in a week from life to death you grew,

Your spirit yearning Godward, as did fail

The strength of your white body, lily-pale;

How through long nights and seven too brief

days

I held you fast, and flattered God with praise,

Calling Him every kind endearing name,

Hoping my love would fill His heart with shame

Of doing that deed which He meant to do.

What happened?"

God was wise and He took you."

Strange!"

"Ah yes, dearest, human loves are strange;

Change seems so final in a world of change.

Through the last night I watched your fluttering

breath,

Desperate lest the unseen hand of Death

Should touch you, still you e'er I was aware,

Leaving me nothing save your golden hair

And the wide doors of an abandoned place,

And the wise smiling of your quiet face--

The perishable chalice of your grace.

"'In Heaven they all are serious,' so you said

In your delirium. You shake your head,

Denying what I surely heard you say.

Since then you've seen the boys and girls at

play

Climbing the knees of God.

"Listen again.

Far out across the gulf you see a stain--

Follow my hand--a smudge, a blur of gray;

That is the world. Though you forget the day,

We lived there once, suffered, had joy, laughed,

loved,

And in sweet worship of each other moved.

Then you fell sick and, while I held your hand,

One took you ....

"Ah, you do not understand!

Only field-flowers you remember well.

This seems an idle fable that I tell;

Then never trouble, dear; forget the pain.

See, here comes God; perhaps He will explain."

IN THE GLAD MONTH OF MAY

In the glad month of May,

When morning was breaking,

She rose from her body

And vanished away.

From a tree cloaked in gray

A shrill bird kept calling,

"Come quick. God is waiting.

He cannot delay."

We had no heart to pray,

But, seeing her glory,

Said, "Go, little sister;

God needs you to-day."

Very stilly she lay:

The bird had ceased calling--

We let in the morning

And kissed her dear clay.

THE LILIES BLOOM

The lilies bloom above her head

All unaware that she is dead.

The small brown birds, with folded wing,

Do not one whit less blithely sing.

The sun goes on his usual round,

Seeking die quiet she has found.

And God looks down on everything,

And that is why the small birds sing.

HERE, SWEET, WE LAY

Here, sweet, we lay

Thy sorrow and pain,

Earth will resolve them to gladness again.

Lily-white hands

To lilies shall grow;

Breath of thy body in breezes shall blow.

Languor and grief,

These Death could slay;

God took the portion which cannot decay.

Thou hast thy joy,

We have thy pain;

Flame of a soul I shall know thee again.

OUT OF THE BLACKNESS

Out of the blackness into the light,

From birth to death--a swallow's flight.

Stars burning fainter, onward we strive.

Cauldron of dawn! The East's alive.

Joy in the journey, joy at the last;

Day in its splendour--darkness past!

In life's beginning clouds to be trod;

At its brave ending, sunrise--God.

From the veiled Hereafter

Whither you have fled,

Snatches of your laughter

Vaguely wed

With rustling of field-flowers,

Angel-stirred,

Guarded by God's towers,

I have heard.

God, in His compassion,

Left Death's gate ajar

So our faith might fashion

Where you are;

God's Mother walks beside you,

Hand-in-hand,

And Lord Christ doth guide you,

Through that Land.

IF GOD SHOULD COME

If God should come to me and say,

Your little maiden, whom I took away

But yesterday,

I will give back to you again,

If so you say, when you have seen the pain

I did refrain

In love from letting her endure.

I knew death's surgery the only cure

For one so pure.

Joy in my breast is sure."

Then should He show me all the way,

Weary at whiles, her feet must stray,

Had He decreed her death's delay,

How should I choose? What should I say?

A NEW TENANT

I watched for her in the night,

I watched for her in the day--

But how could I hope to find her

When her body had gone away?

I spoke to her in the rooms

Where she had been wont to play--

But how could my dearest answer

When her body had gone away?

I searched for her in my heart,

And when it unfroze to pray,

I knew that we shared one mortal house

Since hers had resolved to clay.

LIFE WITHOUT THEE

Life without thee would be, dearest,

Eyes without sight;

Death, if thou stood'st not nearest,

Night without light.

Since thou Death's token wearest,

Freedom from strife,

This I have learnt, my dearest,

Death's name is Life.

ANSWERED PRAYER

We prayed that unto you, dear,

God's best gifts might be given;

We wished to strew for you, dear,

Earth's paths with Heaven.

We planned your life a May-day

When young flowers should be bom,

That you might stray the smooth way

Of gold-robed Morn.

We dared more than we knew, dear;

When half God's gifts were given,

He answered all our prayers, dear--

He gave you Heaven.

The shepherd is dead men tell me,

He died upon a tree

When Springtide was befalling

Field-flowers in Galilee;

But whenever the wind is blowing

Straight out from the East or West,

I can hear his brave voice calling,

"Come after me. Come after me.

Rise up, rise up and follow me--

I am Christ, thy rest."

Then, rising I quickly gird me,

For wherever Christ may be,

The land where he is staying

He turns to Galilee;

Through whose vales when the wind is blowing

From meadows his feet have blest,

He aye calls to his loved ones saying,

Come after me. Come after me.

Rise up, rise up and follow me--

Where I am, is rest."

I seek him in every day,

I travel land and sea

From dawn till dusk is falling

And God hangs lamps for me.

But whenever the wind is blowing,
'Tis then that I find him best;

For I hear his brave voice calling,

In seeking me, thou followest me;

Then where thou art is Galilee,

And I am--thy rest."

IN BEDLAM

Lord, there is music in my world to-day.

For this I thank Thee; once again I hear

The foamy clash of cymbals and the grave

Hoarse-throated shout of brass which is repulsed,

And the clear triumph of unvanquished pipes--

Battles against stringed instruments and fifes

Which angels wage from organ-stops in Heaven.

I, through the hostile grating of my cell,

Can tiptoe just discern where warrior clouds

Chum smoking broken waters in their wakes,

Which unseen challengers, the winds, do chase,

Drowning their anger to a tranquil depth,

Till in blue sky-weed unrevenged they lie

Like gaunt Armada galleons long since sunk.

So all is calm again, and I look out

With prison'd eyes upon Thy travelling world.

A breath of flowers is in the air to-day,

Spring flowers which have not bloomed for many

months,

Which, for my sake, have come to life this day.

I cannot see them, they grow far from here

With feet entangled in the green, gray earth.

They too are prisoners from their earliest birth,

Yet they have flung their fragrance forth to me

That I, a captive mind, may share their joy.

Now, as I listen, laughter dies away;

In Earth's tall tree-tops, dim and out of sight,

I hear the mining beak of one small bird,

Striving for freedom with its puny strength.

Now the shell breaks; it struggles into life;

Its mother's wings enfold it; it is safe.

Far down beneath the nest the forest sighs,

Swaying its branches, as it too would say,

_"I will protect thee from the driving rain,

My leaves shall cover thee, so have no dread_"

I also in my ruined strength would pray,

"_God grant thee rest, and shelter thee from fear_"

If I should live the seasons round again

And God vouchsafe me one more summer's day

Of utter peace, perchance thy voice I'll hear

Trilling in confidence from some cool glade--

And thus my madman's prayer will be repaid.

Laughter breaks forth again; the world is glad.

There's music in the very rocks to-day.

Yea, through my sullen bars the red sun peers

And stains my confines with his golden smile;

God shakes His happiness abroad to-day.

See, I will rake this yellow harvest home

And treasure it against a sadder hour,

When Winter's mantled all our stars in night.

When that shall be, I'll paint my walls with gold,

Loosen my breast and let the sun's rays free,

Re-capture them and hoard them up again;

And so will halt the summer at its prime.

Lord, I am mad; but Thou canst heal my mind.

Once, not long since--long after Thou hadst made

And bastioned with grace my living soul--

Thou, in a careless hour, didst plan my frame,

Moulding my body from the oozy day;

But, just before Thy task was most complete,

Didst nod, and drowse, and waking didst forget

Thy task unfinished--so was I bom mad;

So was my perfect soul a bondsman made

To serve vile lusts of my imperfect brain.

Hast Thou to-day remembered Thy mistake?

This mom I wakened, found that I was sane,

Beheld the East as no unchartered dread

Threat'ning the world with universal fire,

But as Thy kindness held aloft for men;

Then craned I forth my hands to dutch Thy winds,

Nor shrank from them as fore-runners of Death.

Father, before the Darkness falls again,

Before my soul wends backward to the Night,

Grant unto me Thy earliest gift to Man,

Form me in image godlike to Thyself.

Is it beyond Thy power to make me well?

Thou weakling God! then send me down Thy

Christ,

He whose strong pity hath dethroned Thy might,

And made a man a worthier god than Thou:

For he in peasant lands of Galilee

Did love, and love, and love till his heart brake;

He took away the anguish of men's pain

By spending all their pain on his own life;

He drove away the shadows from men's minds

By giving them himself, who was the Light.

Ah Christ, that thou hadst not been crucified!

Wert thou still living by the fishers' lake,

Then thou hadst heard me half across the world;

Though from the Andes, I had cried to thee,

Still hadst thou heard, and come from Palestine

Only to stretch thy cooling hands on me,

Only to rest thy cooling hands in mine--

Those gentle hands, by bleeding feet borne thence.

A SONG OF IGNOBLE EASE

When Pleasure's found,

Away with the tear;

Grief's a starved hound,

Pursued by lean Fear.

Life is a round

Of languor and pain;

When Joy is found,

Go forth not again.

Music's a sound

Which guides men to rest;

Love is the bound

That ends every quest.

Lie down to rest,

Slay fragile Pain,

Vanquish lean Fear,

Away with the Tear.

Finish thy quest

And strive not again.

Sick I had been, and very sore afraid,

Baffled of life, and lost to every hope,

Hounded by dread, pursued and left dismayed

Standing alone, abandoned and afraid.

Then did I ask, "What now is left to say?

Why should I question? Wherefore should I

strive?

Man was made thus, to fail and creep away;

Thus was Man made, and there is naught to say."

Oh, I was weak, and blind with too much pain,

Bankrupt and blind, all feeble in my tread;

Would I might touch one friendly hand again--

Find love to rid me of this too much pain."

I spoke in fear, and knew not what I said,

Thought not of anguish hands of love must share,

Lonely I was, because my hope was dead,

Yearning and sad. I knew not what I said.

Then did One come who laid His hands in mine,

One who did kiss my poor unseeing eyes,

Tenderly led to where the stars do shine,

Speaking kind words, He placed His hands in mine.

There did I see the trees go riding by

Moved by the wind, and heard the nightingale

Carol and slur, and sing, and sob, and sigh,

Wing-mounted moths, and angels riding by.

Then did I seek to see the healing friend;

But He had vanished. I was left alone.

There, where He stood, my body I did bend,

Weeping in prayer, to Him my healing friend.

A WISH FOR HER

Peace unto thee

Wherever thou art,

Childlike companion,

Friend of my heart.

Joy unto thee

Dear image of God;

Flowers are blowing

Where thou hast trod.

Peace unto thee

And respite from pain;

Whiteness of raiment,

Freedom from stain.

Love unto thee,

Remembrance of Heaven,

Tokens of Jesus

By angels given.

Peace unto thee

Wherever thou art,

Christlike companion

Made for my heart.

WE MEET

We meet

In a lamp-lit street,

You and I--

Life is sweet.

Clouds' tumultuous feet

Shake the sky;

They are all in retreat--

Death draws nigh.

Life is sweet--

With anonymous beat

Crowds surge by.

Only I

And my sweet

Dare to linger and greet.

Your lips sigh,
"Time is fleet."

Stars repeat,

"Life is sweet--

Kiss her," they cry;
"In an unlit street

One day you must die."

Thus we meet.

HEART-BREAK

Lord God of Cities, how long must we wait

Bound in our Babylons of tawdry sin;

Hast Thou so many other stars to win,

Is greed of conquest so insatiate?

Or does Omnipotence design to take

Example from the flaws of childhood's years,

And what of folly in Thy work appears

Thou studiest for newer worlds' sweet sake?

Nay, Thou art shamed of Thy first dwelling-place,

And we are wearied; neither of us know

How we may remedy Thy fault, and so

With slow tired hands Thou coverest Thy face.

Poor Man! foredoomed to spurn such love as this!

Sad God! what grief to make a world amiss!

UP AGAIN

Down in the mud again!

Thank God I'm up again,

On through the rife of rain.

Clouds, in their height,

Gleam where some moon shines whit<

Thank God I'm up again!

Stars are in sight,

Or will be in sight

This night or next night.

God be praised for the sight!

It's brave to be up again.

If I should fall again,

Why, I'll rise up again--

On through the rush of rain

Search out some light.

Somewhere on wings of white--

Praise God I'm up again--

Something's in flight,

Star-flight or dawn-flight,

Hereward through the night.

God be praised for such flight!

It's glad to be up again.

MASTERLESS

With tattered sail, as ships which driven are

On whatsoever course the winds may list,

Which every peaceful waterway have missed,

And drift on open seas with shattered spar

And gaping seam, which toss and sway and nod,

Remote from sight of land and hope of aid,

So is the canvassed, crude conveyance made

In which Man journeys to the port of God.

No pillow in his vessel rests the head

Of one who, sleeping, has the power to save--

Who, when the clouds fly far, can calm the wave

And send it sobbing to the ocean bed.

Storm follows storm, the waters run more high;

Across the vain and vacant void of death

We lilt with lifeless motion to each breath,

And grope grotesquely on, yet cannot die.

Oh, for a respite from this weary place,

Or else to see but once the Master's face!

FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD

With you the world's at evening-light,

With me the world's at day;

Yet in my heart I think 'tis night

While you are far away:

While you are far away, dear lad,

While you are far away,

There comes no dawn, nor change of light,

Nor any hope in day.

With you it nears the hour of sleep;

With me 'tis time to pray,

That God may guide you o'er His deep

Back from the Far-Away;

Home from the Far-Away, dear lad,

Back from the Far-Away,

That God may drift you home in sleep,

And bring me back my day.

Christ placed his hand in mine and said,

Come, little child, for thou art mine."

I kissed him', raising up my head,

And whispered, "Yea, Lord, I am thine."

We wandered through white clover-flowers

Beside a murmuring brook all day;

When night led back the dream-tide hours

Within his shepherd arms I lay.

Older I grew, until at last

Unto a clanging town we came;

Christ wept for me, but in I passed

Alone. It was the town of Fame,

Wherein are lands of diverse name--

The Saffron East, the Purple West,

Whose walls enclose a Crimson Shame

But hold no Land of Quiet Rest.

Weary I grew and sad, and lame,

Until in scorn I heard one say,

How to the gate there seeking came

A wounded shepherd yesterday.

Painfully at the stroke of dawn

I to the open country crept;

And on a distant dewy lawn

I found Christ, while the city slept.

My crippled hands in his, I said,

O Lord and art thou truly mine?"

Upon his breast he laid my head,

Yea, little child, am I not thine?"

News, sent from far away,

Came unto me to-day,

Only these words to say,

Lo, he is dead."

He, who to comfort me,

Laughing right merrily,

Said, "Think, how glad we'll be

When I return."

He, strumming out Hope's song

Wending lone lands among,

Swept Life's harp overstrong--

Felt the strings break.

I shall return, you know,"

So he spake long ago;

How brave our love must grow,"

Wrote a week since.

Then news, from far away,

Came unto me this day,

Only these words to say,

Lo, _he_ is dead."

"_The Terror by Night: the Arrow by Day: the Pestilence walking in Darkness: the Destruction wasting at Noonday._"

Thou Demon Fear, Assassin of Delight,

Who makest impotent Man's royal might,

Turning to poverty his wealth of days

With hushed pursuit of him in all his ways,

Whence art thou come, from what dead land of

Night?

Speak, only speak, occult, accursèd shade,

Who ne'er to human eyes hast yet displayed

Thine awful shape; ah, could we only hear

Thy thin, pale voice! Thy ghastly step draws

near,

But bring not _thee_--therefore we grow afraid.

What things men fear they do not dare to say

Lest, thus provoked, Fate should no more delay

But run on them and wreak those ills they dread:

To Death we kneel, to God we bow the head;

Yet of our fears we have the most dismay.

We fear our fears, but thee, Oh Fear, we hate,

For thou with all our sins art intimate

As He who made us; crimes wrought long ago,

Follies and half-faults, each one thou dost know

And dost avenge with rods deliberate.

Ah, were this all, our lives might yet go well

For, since we suffer here the pains of Hell,

Heav'n should be certain, Death--God's just

reprieve.

But thou with vain forebodings dost conceive

To break our hearts, and turn us infidel.

Oh for that silence, virgin of all sound,

Vast, uncalamitous which did abound

When Darkness, drooping from Eternity,

Trailed his slow pinions o'er Time's tideless

sea

Before Fear was called forth from underground.

Then Quiet, from the Nothingness of Space,

Gazed down on Chaos with untroubled face,

Such as babes have who enter Life still-born;

For Evening Strife, nor Hurricane of Morn,

Had then perturbed God's wonted resting-place.

Now, though through utterest lands we wend our

way,

We hear thy footstep, so we cannot stay;

Yea, though we search out Peace in dreams by

night,

Too soon we know thee following our flight,

And shrieking wake, and clamour for new-day.

Only Man's bygone days are truly sweet:

_This day_ is darkened by _To-morrow's_ threat,

_To-morrow_ by the menace of _To-day;_

From out the Past is fled away for aye

The grinding doubt of possible defeat.

Ah, were we wise, our lives 'tis thus we'd spend:

Because the Past glides onward without end,

Engulfing _our _To-day and _our_ Hereafter,

We'd greet This Day, or Next, with careless

laughter

As 'twere the Past, and so our fortunes mend.

Too weak are we, too diligent in doubt,

This fiend with sage philosophy to flout;

When all his lawful issue fail his need,

Fear doth with harlot Fancy quickly breed

Frenzy, to put Tranquillity to rout.

Nightly earth's infants, garret-roofs beneath,

Wake shuddering and hark, with indrawn breath

And small clenched hands and faces woe-begone,

Till through the creaking gloom there mounteth

one

Whom they in ignorance mistake for Death.

Nor are we braver when we older grow,

For still "'Tis Death!" we sob. "'Tis Death! Ah

woe,

Deep woe, is me!" whene'er thou drawest nigh:

Therefore, Oh Fear, full many times men die

And Dissolution's torments undergo.

Man, who was made in image like to God,

Whom angels tended wheresoe'er he trod

With glad huzzas and harpings all the way,

So that the untamed beasts allowed his sway,

Cringes a coward 'neath thine up-raised rod.

Secret Chastiser of our secret heart,

Speak, but this once, to tell us who thou art;

Whether the hound that runs before Death's

feet,

Discrowned Imagination in retreat,

Or Echo, of our own flight the counterpart

Like God, most silent ever thou dost keep.

Thine eyes must be as God's, which never sleep

But watch, aye watch, and know us all in all.

Oh, can it be, that thou art but the call

Of God, the Shepherd, guarding o'er His sheep?

ABANDON

Just to be true to one grand swift desire

Which shall all other furious faiths outpace;

To run with strength an uncontested race

Till, knowing how the soul is catching fire

And generous flame is clambering through the

heart--

For Self, what though heroic, is not best--

I grasp my life and hurl it with the rest,

Joining myself to God--a puny part.

One holy thing to fail for--thus to die;

To give men love, who knew before remorse;

Then, meekly seek with Christ some scornful

Cross,

But leave the world more kind in passing by--

In piercing through the covering doth of night

To lodge one star, and vanish strong in flight.

Kiss me," she said, "for I must die

Ere any star his flight hath ta'en,

And cold and unperturbed shall lie

When Night doth pace our earth again.

And thou, dear love, if thou should'st weep,

And if thy heart with anguish break,

From sweet sad dreams thy solace take

And lose thy pain in painless sleep.

Kiss me, dear love, for I must die

And cold and unperturbed shall lie."

Kiss me, dear friend, for now I feel

That thou art as a glimpse of God;

More tender passions through me steal

Than when this wayward world I trod.

Lie still, dear heart, and do not speak--

God would not stoop to such as me;

With silent mouth and noiselessly

I would my grave Creator seek.

Kiss me, dear love, for now I feel

More noble passions through me steal."

Kiss me, this last, for I must flee

From all I loved and cherished here,

And now must go distressfully

Bereft, in solitude and fear.

But, when your eyes are closed in sleep,

I shall descend the starry steeps

Where Leon for her lover weeps

And tired hands have naught to reap.

Kiss me, dear love, alone I flee

To meet unknown Eternity."

MAN'S BEGINNING

When God was young and wandered through the

skies

Supreme and unadored, content to be

The only vessel on His starry sea,

He had no wish for sight of other eyes.

But, as the years flew by, He older grew,

And held less dear the loneliness He found,

When from some long-since reign He caught the

sound

Of play-mate deities, whom once He knew.

Half-heedlessly He stooped toward a star

And kissed its silver lips, when forth there came

A little god, in speech like to those same

Dear children whom in sleep He heard afar.

The Father God pulsated through His heart,

He cried, "O Child, my little son thou art."

LOVE AT LAST

When I have looked upon Thy face

I hear a wandering discontent

Wail through my living, and retrace

The leaf-strewn paths my feet frequent.

Folly abode within a glade

And saw my flight and, laughing, bade

Me greet her lips and kiss her hair,

Till I was fain to kiss her there.

But Thou art sad and dost not speak,

So sad and sorrowful art Thou;

Thine eyes are scarred, my eyes they seek,

And cruel marks have marred Thy brow.

Pleasure laid hands on me and mine,

She crowned my head with tangled vine,

Her arms about my neck lay bare;

I was constrained to kiss her there.

Yea, Thou hast suffered. This I tell

By those long wound-prints in Thy hands;

Mankind has never used Thee well,

And loves not Thee, nor Thy commands.

Bitterness found me desolate

And kissed me with the breath of hate;

Since Folly fled, she bade me wear

Her angry scarlet in my hair.

Now, as I look into Thy face,

Despised and battered though it be,

Visage of scorn in every place,

I know that I belong to Thee.

Worthless these lips to give the kiss--

And yet I dare, recalling this,

When Life's last lovers left me bare

Thy patient face was constant there.

THE MIRROR OF THOUGHT

When earnest-eyed we conversed through the

night,

Recalled past pleasure, followed up the hour

With plaintive music--sad memorial flower

Of melancholy and of old delight--

Rode bold as Taillefer with tossing brand

Across the hills of fancy, chanting strains

Of ancient chivalry, while loud refrains

Rumbled responsive through our faery band,

Then Courage kindled Courage, making gay

Carnage and conflict, poverty and fear;

The path to glory golden did appear,

And I was brave to wend it any day.

A far-blown cry of love and minstrelsy,

Revealed to me myself as I would be.

I'M SORRY

I'm sorry, dear--

But I did not know

That behind your eyes,

Where the joy-fields grow

And dance to the joy of dancing skies,

There were forests where graver flowers rise;

Weighted with shadow,

They stand tiptoe:

So I'm sorry, dear--

I did not know.

I'm sorry, dear.

As we older grow

There will come a day,

May its feet move slow,

When we, where the life-fields fade to gray

And the skies dance not, shall have naught to say,

Met by a Shadow,

In voices low,

But, "I'm sorry, God--

I did not know."

DREAMLAND LOVE

Here in the Far Land of our own begetting,

Crouched on the haunted cliff begirt by sea,

Hushed in the murmurous swell of dim waves

fretting

Walls and sheer rocks which cradle you and me,

How shall we lisp of older worlds and cities?

How shall we sigh for newer worlds to be?

Naught here is left of moanings or of pities,

Only the whispered silence of the sea.

We had no stars to shine our curved prows hither,

Nor had we moons to guide us fearlessly,

Only the age-long yearnings of the river

Bruised by steep banks and aching for the sea;

Rivers whose tides grow tired of earthly lilies,

Too full of splendour to last so long as we,

Rivers whose length-long craving and strong will is

Once to see space, and then to cease to be.

Hither we journeyed sunset-ways by water,

I in my phantom keel of Poesy,

You in Sleep's arms, of whom you are the daughter,

Till in my arms Sleep laid you noiselessly.

Down through the dusk our dreamland barque

drove gleaming,

Under gray sails, through gradual groves of sea,

Till from your eyes I saw the love-light streaming,

And gave the kiss which set your spirit free.

All the fair glories of our first beginnings

We did forsake to gain this quiet place;

Passions we left, and fears, and youthful sinnings;

Virtues we left, and early signs of grace.

Dreamings we brought and beauty of the May-

time,

All else we flung to where Time's whirlwinds race.

Timeless are we in this our godlike play-time,

Since Sleep has led us gently face to face.

Gray glide the mists around our ocean's edges,

Gray grope the tides across the gray-paved sea,

Gray clings the foam about our granite ledges,

Naught, naught remains to safeguard you from

me.

These axe the souls who watch us at our dreaming,

Spirits of mist, of spray-dashed crag and sea;

All, all is hushed, save your gray eyes deep gleaming,

Eyes of veiled flame in caves of mystery.

Like frozen stars, we watched each other's shining,

Wondered with pain if any time might be,

When we should lean beyond our own divining,

Touching the lips of others such as we,

Till I grew faint within my lonely heaven,

Sank through the cloudland stretched twixt you

and me,

Plunged through the thunder where firmaments

rocked riven,

So gave the kiss which set your spirit free.

We must go hence, when flames the tyrant morning,

We shall go hence at breaking of new day;

We, like the stars strange midnight lands adorning,

We must go hence, steal separately away.

Yet, like the stars, perchance we may glide burning

When round the earth the skies are growing gray;

We to our haunted cliff may sail returning,

Nearing the crags where yesternight we lay.

Thus from the Far Land of our own begetting

I must depart across Sleep's sundering sea,

Throughout the Sim Land wander inly fretting,

Till night drifts back restoring you to me;

Till through the dark I see Love's pennons streaming,

When you will kiss and set my spirit free;

Till through the dusk our dreamland barque drives

gleaming,

Under gray sails, through gradual groves of sea.

End of Project Gutenberg's Florence On A Certain Night, by Coningsby Dawson