Chapter I: Front Matter

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Title: New Poems Author: Roberts, Charles George Douglas (1860-1943) Date of first publication: 1919 Edition used as base for this ebook: London: Constable, 1919 [first edition] Date first posted: 3 January 2011 Date last updated: October 17, 2014 Faded Page ebook#201410F7

This ebook was produced by Al Haines

NEW POEMS

BY

CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS

LONDON

CONSTABLE AND COMPANY LIMITED

1919

PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.

CHISWICK PRESS : CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO.

TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.

CONTENTS

TO SHAKESPEARE, IN 1916
"THE UNKNOWN CITY"
O EARTH, SUFFICING ALL OUR NEEDS
MONITION
ON THE ROAD
HILL TOP SONGS:
I. HERE ON THE HILL
II. WHEN THE LIGHTS COME OUT
IN THE VALLEY OF LUCHON
THE GOOD EARTH
WAYFARER OF EARTH
UNDER THE PILLARS OF THE SKY
ALL NIGHT THE LONE CICADA
EASTWARD BOUND
WHEN IN THE ROWAN TREE
WITH APRIL HERE
FROM THE HIGH WINDOW OF YOUR ROOM
THE HOUR OF MOST DESIRE
THE FLOWER
WHEN THE CLOUD COMES DOWN THE MOUNTAIN
THE STREAM
THE SUMMONS
THE PLACE OF HIS REST
GOING OVER
CAMBRAI AND MARNE

NEW POEMS

TO SHAKESPEARE, IN 1916

With what white wrath must turn thy bones,
What stern amazement flame thy dust,
To feel so near this England's heart
The outrage of the assassin's thrust!

How must thou burn to have endured
The acclaim of these whose fame unclean
Reeks from the "Lusitania's" slain,
Stinks from the orgies of Malines!

But surely, too, thou art consoled
(Who knew'st thy stalwart breed so well)
To see us rise from sloth, and go,
Plain and unbragging, through this hell.

And surely, too, thou art assured.
Hark how that grim and gathering beat
Draws upwards from the ends of earth,--
The tramp, tramp, of thy kinsmen's feet.

"THE UNKNOWN CITY"

There lies a city inaccessible,
Where the dead dreamers dwell.

Abrupt and blue, with many a high ravine
And soaring bridge half seen.
With many an iris cloud that comes and goes
Over the ancient snows,
The imminent hills environ it, and hold
Its portals from of old,
That grief invade not, weariness, nor war,
Nor anguish evermore.

White-walled and jettied on the peacock tide,
With domes and towers enskied,
Its battlements and balconies one sheen
Of ever-living green,
It hears the happy dreamers turning home
Slow-oared across the foam.

Cool are its streets with waters musical
And fountains' shadowy fall.
With orange and anemone and rose,
And every flower that blows
Of magic scent or unimagined dye,
Its gardens shine and sigh.
Its chambers, memoried with old romance
And faëry circumstance,--
From any window love may lean some time
For love that dares to climb.

This is that city babe and seer divined
With pure, believing mind.
This is the home of unachieved emprize.
Here, here the visioned eyes
Of them that dream past any power to do,
Wake to the dream come true.
Here the high failure, not the level fame,
Attests the spirit's aim.
Here is fulfilled each hope that soared and sought
Beyond the bournes of thought.

The obdurate marble yields; the canvas glows;
Perfect the column grows;
The chorded cadence art could ne'er attain
Crowns the imperfect strain;
And the great song that seemed to die unsung
Triumphs upon the tongue.

O EARTH, SUFFICING ALL OUR NEEDS

O earth, sufficing all our needs, O you
With room for body and for spirit too,
How patient while your children vex their souls
Devising alien heavens beyond your blue!

Dear dwelling of the immortal and unseen,
How obstinate in my blindness have I been,
Not comprehending what your tender calls,
Veiled promises and re-assurance, mean.

Not far and cold the way that they have gone
Who through your sundering darkness have withdrawn;
Almost within our hand-reach they remain
Who pass beyond the sequence of the dawn.

Not far and strange the Heaven, but very near,
Your children's hearts unknowingly hold dear.
At times we almost catch the door swung wide.
And unforgotten voice almost we hear,

I am the heir of Heaven--and you are just.
You, you alone I know--and you I trust.
I have sought God beyond his farthest star--
But here I find Him, in your quickening dust.

MONITION

A faint wind, blowing from World's End,
Made strange the city street.
A strange sound mingled in the fall
Of the familiar feet.

Something unseen whirled with the leaves
To tap on door and sill.
Something unknown went whispering by
Even when the wind was still.

And men looked up with startled eyes
And hurried on their way,
As if they had been called, and told
How brief their day.

ON THE ROAD

Ever just over the top of the next brown rise
I expect some wonderful thing to flatter my eyes.
"What's yonder?" I ask of the first wayfarer I meet.
"Nothing!" he answers, and looks at my travel-worn feet.

"Only more hills and more hills, like the many you've passed,
With rough country between, and a poor enough inn at the last."
But already I am a-move, for I see he is blind,
And I hate that old grumble I've listened to time out of mind.

I've tramped it too long not to know there is truth in it still,
That lure of the turn of the road, of the crest of the hill.
So I breast me the rise with full hope, well assured I shall see
Some new prospect of joy, some brave venture a tip-toe for me.

For I have come far, and confronted the calm and the strife.
I have fared wide, and bit deep in the apple of life.
It is sweet at the rind, but oh, sweeter still at the core;
And whatever be gained, yet the reach of the morrow is more.

At the crest of the hill I shall hail the new summits to climb.
The demand of my vision shall beggar the largess of time.
For I know that the higher I press, the wider I view,
The more's to be ventured and visioned, in worlds that are new.

So when my feet, failing, shall stumble in ultimate dark,
And faint eyes no more the high lift of the pathway shall mark,
There under the dew I'll lie down with my dreams, for I know
What bright hill-tops the morning will show me, all red in the glow.

HILL TOP SONGS