Chapter III: The Prince

My heart it was a cup of gold
That at his lip did long to lie,
But he hath drunk the red wine down,
And tossed the goblet by.

My heart it was a floating bird
That through the world did wander free,
But he hath locked it in a cage,
And lost the silver key.

My heart it was a white, white rose
That bloomed upon a broken bough,
He did but wear it for an hour,
And it is withered now.

THE LITTLE DEAD CHILD

When all but her were sleeping fast,
And the night was nearly fled,
The little dead child came up the stair
And stood by his mother’s bed.

“Ah, God!” she cried, “the nights are three,
And yet I have not slept!”
The little dead child he sat him down,
And sank his head, and wept.

* * * * *

“And is it thou, my little dead child,
Come in from out the storm?
Ah, lie thou back against my heart,
And I will keep thee warm!”

_That is long ago, mother,
Long and long ago!
Shall I grow warm who lay three nights
Beneath the winter snow?_

* * * * *

“Hast thou not heard the old nurse weep?
She sings to us no more;
And thy brothers leave the broken toys
And whisper in the door.”

_That is far away, mother,
Far and far away!
Above my head the stone is white,
My hands forget to play._

* * * * *

“What wilt thou then, my little dead child,
Since here thou may’st not lie?
Ah, me! that snow should be thy sheet,
And winds thy lullaby!”

_Down within my grave, mother,
I heard, I know not how,
“Go up to God, thou little child,
Go up and meet him now!”_

_That is far to fare, mother,
Far and far to fare!
I come for thee to carry me
The way from here to there._

“O hold thy peace, my little dead child,
My heart will break in me!
Thy way to God thou must go alone,
I may not carry thee!”

* * * * *

The cock crew out the early dawn
Ere she could stay her moan;
She heard the cry of a little child,
Upon his way alone.

AT PARTING

Oh, all too well beloved, at last I know
That for us two the parting of the ways
Has come, and brought the ending of sweet days.
Bid me good-bye, and loose my hand, and go.
To-day’s fair peak we ran to climb, and low
Before us, glowing in our last sun’s rays,
The path slopes down, nor undivided stays;
The path slopes down, but separate and slow.

Henceforward you and I alone must fare.
Nay, look not all so sad! Was ever done
A deed to merit all that we have won
Of joy? I tell you, there are those whose prayer
Is nightly on their knees that they might bear
Our shadow, could they but have known our sun!

THE NIXY

They brought her honey and milk,
They brought her curds and wine,
“But oh!” she cried, “for the river side,
And the rushes that were mine!”

They robed her body with silk,
They filled her lap with gold,
“But oh!” she prayed, “for the mossy shade,
And the green depths, pure and cold!”

They kissed her ankles for love,
They worshiped at her eyes,
“But oh!” she moaned, “for the flood, deep-toned,
And the sweeping spray that flies!”

They draped her chamber with black,
They wept there at her bier,
But her glad soul fled when her heart was dead,
And flowed with the river clear.

A JAPANESE FAN

Is it so warm in old Japan?
Do flowers flaunt out such riot glare?
Hangs that soft, golden mist so low?
Ah me, ah me, to journey there!

Inked out against the yellow glow
One sharp peak rises, blackly bare;
A stately swan steers up the sky--
Ah me, ah me, to journey there!

And see her as she furls her fan!
Was ever lady half so fair?
She beckons to me with her eyes--
Ah me, ah me, to journey there!

Were ever feet so dainty small?
Was ever coiled such shining hair?
Her hands are like curled lily-buds--
Ah me, ah me, to journey there!

Fan-pictured, dear Japan, thy calm
Fills us of West with dull despair!
(The palm-leaves sift the sunlight through)
Ah me, ah me, to journey there!

TWO SONNETS FROM THE HEBREW

I. THE PREPARATION

“_And he said, I will not destroy it for the ten’s sake._”

Look back and see this brooding tenderness!
Ye wait till Bethlehem? Nay then, not I!
Under the law doth Israel ever sigh?
Is there no mercy till the great redress?
See now, amid the nameless wickedness
Love dreadeth lest one soul of his should die,
Spareth and faltereth and passeth by,
Soft’ning the law to ease a son’s distress.

Shall not the judge of all the earth do right?
Aye, child, and more! thou hast not learned to spell
Love’s first great letter: centuries of pain
Still leave him terrible in thy scared sight
Who quencheth with his tears the fires of hell,
And yearneth o’er the cities of the Plain!