Chapter II

He has spoken. The man with his cold voice has spoken.
The seal of suspense lies here shattered and broken,
_And I know_ ... And I know
What the coming years hold which an hour since were dumb to me—
God! how precious the jewel of your light has become to me
Where's my hat? Let me go.

LITTLE DREAM-BROTHER.

Little dream-brother that died
When I was not a year out of heaven,
I heard you when you tried
To come to me yestereven.

As I lay in bed
Midway 'twixt nothingness and waking,
I heard the window shaking
And the beat of wings upon the pane.
"It is not the rain,
But my little dream-brother out there," I said.

I turned in bed:
"Come in, little dream-brother."
"I can only come in by the gates of sleep
And by no other.
Through the niche of the tiniest dream I can creep—
Sleep, sister, do sleep," you said.

And so through the night we waited—
You on the window-threshold there
In the wet windy weather,
And I abed—with breath bated,
Just to catch the first moment of sleep unaware
And fly kissing together.

But sleep would not come till seven,
When the shivering day
Looked up all chilly and grey.
"Creep into bed,
Little dream-brother, under my arm
And I'll keep you warm."
But you shook your head:
"It's bed-time in heaven,
Sister. Goodbye," you said.

There was not a whole year between you
And me, little dream-brother.
I cannot remember even to have seen you ...
And now I might be your mother.

FAUST AND MARGARET

"Devil," he said, "Love's Heaven—
Shall man not therefor lose his soul?"

* * * * *

"God," she whispered, "is Love Heaven?
Is Heaven a place of dole?"

(_And so she gave his Heaven to the man
Because the man did crave it.
And so because she never asked Hell's ban
He gave it._)

"Devil!" he said, "Love's Hell!
Man's wild-beast-thirst, how slake it?
Take the tenderest thing, thus—thus!
Passion-torture it a spell,
And break it!"

* * * * *

"God," she whispered, "Love is Heaven.
Love's not what Love is made for us,
But what we make it."

(_And so her dead soul found what it had given,
And what he builded, there his damned soul ended....
And do you think that either Hell or Heaven
These sinners' suffering-on-earth amended?_)

DREAM-SHIPS

I set my dream-ships floating
Upon the tides of sleep.
Beneath whose moving waters
Unfathomed currents creep;

And one was made of roses
With flowering mast and spars,
And one was made of music,
And one was made of stars:

One was all joy and sorrow
Made from my own heart-strings,
And one was like a cradle
With sails like angels' wings.

O little ships that wander
All lonely on the deep,
And only come to haven
Upon the tides of sleep.

THE MORAL

The youth cried in anguish: "God,
My life is bowed down beneath
Its woe! I am no mere clod—
There's fire in my blood and breath.

"You, Who made me of flesh, not stone,
Of quivering tissues—dare
You leave me to face alone
A grief past my strength to bear?

"Life might be veriest heaven,
Life can be veriest hell—
In _Your_ hands rests what is given.
God, I hold You responsible!"

Then the man who was growing grey
Observed: "In an idle mood
God blew bubbles one day
And loosed the glistening brood

On the welkin, one by one—
Myriads of worlds they sped:
There were planets and moon and sun,
And one was the globe we tread."

Then the Spirit that Nullifies,
Men term Death, asked: "How long?" (One fears
God shrugged.) "While I blink my eyes—
Shall we say a billion years?"

* * * * *

The youth on the fable broke,
And scorn in his accents ran:
"What is all this to me? I spoke
To God of _Myself_, old man."

COLOUR-TONES

I

A visionary filmy sheen
Scarce palpable of silver-green
Limns barren furrow and bare branch.
One month more, and the welcoming
Gates o' the world will open wide
To let the full deep vernal tide
Sweep overland, an avalanche
Of green, absorbing in its rush
This silver-misty verdure ... Hush!
This is the old earth's dream of Spring.

II

In Cobham woods the bluebells run
Celestial rillets, streams and rivers,
Or else a purple lake they lie,
Or little azure pool;
The blue flood shimmers in the sun
Or under the wind's breathing shivers,
While drops cerulean-tincted spill
Among the grass. Then very still
The dim sweet waters grow and cool
Like shadows of the sky.