Chapter XX

The woods are bare again. There are
No secrets now, the bud's a scar;
No promises,--this is the end!
Ah, Dearest, I have seen thee bend
Above thy flowers as one who knew
The dying wood should bloom anew.
Come, let us sleep, Perchance
God's countenance,
Like thine above thy flowers, smiles through
The night upon us two.

VERSES

MY FRIEND

I have a friend who came,--I know not how,
Nor he. Among the crowd, apart,
I feel the pressure of his hand, and hear
In very truth the beating of his heart.

My soul had shut the door of abode,
So poor it seemed for any guest
To tarry there a night,--until he came,
Asking, not entertainment, only rest.

Our hands were empty,-his and mine alike,
He says--until they joined. I see
The gifts he brought; but where were mine
That he should say "I too have need of thee?"

Without the threshold of his heart I wait
Abashed, afraid to enter where
So radiant a company do meet,
Yet enter boldly, knowing I am there.

Whether his hand shall press my latch to-night,
To-morrow, matters not. He came
Unsummoned, he will come again; and I,
Though dead, shall answer to my name.

And yet, dear friend, in whom I rest content,
Speak to me _now_--lest when we meet
Where tears and hunger have no grace,
A little word of friendship be less sweet.

ON NE BADINE PAS AVEC LA MORT

1

The dew was full of sun that morn
_(Oh I heard the doves in the ladyricks coop!)_
As he crossed the meadows beyond the corn,
Watching his falcon in the blue.
How could he hear my song so far,--
The song of the blood where the pulses are!
Straight through the fields he came to me,
_(Oh I saw his soul as I saw the dew!)_
But I hid my joy that he might not see,
I hid it deep within my breast,
As the starling hides in the maize her nest.

2

Back through the corn he turned again,
_(Oh little he cared where his falcon flew!)_
And my heart lay still in the hand of pain,
As in winter's hand the rivers do.
How could he hear its secret cry,
The cry of the dove when the cummers die!
Thrice in the maize he turned to me,
_(Oh I saw his soul as I saw the dew!)_
But I hid my pain that he might not see--
I hid it deep as the grave is made,
Where the heart that can ache no more is laid.

3

Last night, where grows the river grass,
_(Oh the stream was dark though the moon was new!)_
I saw white Death with my lover pass,
Side by side as the troopers so.
"Give me," said Death, "thy purse well-filled,
And thy mantle-clasp which the moonbeams gild;
Save the heart which beats for thy dear sake,"
_(Oh I saw my heart as I saw the dew!)_
"All life hath given is Death's to take."
Dear God! how can I love thy day
If thou takest the heart that loves away!

ITER SUPREMUM

Oh, what a night for a soul to go!
The wind a hawk, and the fields in snow;
No screening cover of leaves in the wood,
Nor a star abroad the way to show.

Do they part in peace, soul with its clay?
Tenant and landlord, what do they say?
Was it sigh of sorrow or of release
I heard just now as the face turned gray?

What if, aghast on the shoreless main
Of Eternity, it sought again
The shelter and rest of the Isle of Time,
And knocked at the door of its house of pain!

On the tavern hearth the embers glow,
The laugh is deep and the flagons low;
But without, the wind and the trackless sky,
And night at the gates where a soul would go!

ON THE FLY-LEAF OF THE RUBAIYAT

Deem not this book a creed, 't is but the cry
Of one who fears not death, yet would not die;
Who at the table feigns with sorry jest.
To love the wine the Master's hand has pressed,
The while he loves the absent Master best,--
The bitter cry of Love for love's reply!

IN AN ALBUM

Like the south-flying swallow the summer has flown,
Like a fast-falling star, from unknown to unknown
Life flashes and falters and fails from our sight,--
Good-night, friends, good-night.

Like home-coming swallows that seek the old eaves,
Like the buds that wait patient beneath the dead leaves,
Love shall sleep in our hearts till our hands meet again,
Till then, friends, till then!

WITH APRIL ARBUTUS, TO A FRIEND

Fairer than we the woods of May,
Yet sweeter blossoms do not grow
Than these we send you from our snow,
Cramped are their stems by winter's cold,
And stained their leaves with last year's mould;
For these are flowers which fought their way
Through ice and cold in sun and air,
With all a soul might do and dare,
Hope, that outlives a world's decay,
Enduring faith that will not die,
And love that gives, not knowing why,
Therefore we send them unto you;
And if they are not all your due,
Once they have looked into your face
Your graciousness will give them place.
You know they were not born to bloom
Like roses in a crowded room;
For though courageous they are shy,
Loving but one sweet hand and eye.
Ah, should you take them to the rest,
The warmth, the shelter of your breast,
Since on the bleak
And frozen bosom of our snows
They dared to smile, on yours who knows
But that they might not dare to speak!

IMMORTALITY

My window is the open sky,
The flower in farthest wood is mine;
I am the heir to all gone by,
The eldest son of all the line.

And when the robbers Time and Death
Athwart my path conspiring stand,
I cheat them with a clod, a breath,
And pass the sword from hand to hand!

J. E. B.

Not all the pageant of the setting sun
Should yield the tired eyes of man delight,
No sweet beguiling power had stars at night
To soothe his fainting heart when day is done,
Nor any secret voice of benison
Might nature own, were not each sound and sight
The sign and symbol of the infinite,
The prophecy of things not yet begun.
So had these lips, so early sealed with sleep,
No fruitful word, life no power to move
Our deeper reverence, did we not see
How more than all he said, he was,--how, deep
Below this broken life, he ever wove
The finer substance of a life to be.

BY A GRAVE

Oft have I stood within the carven door
Of some cathedral at the close of the day,
And seen its softened splendors fade away
From lucent pane and tessellated floor,
As if a parting guest who comes no more,--
Till over all silence and blackness lay,
Then rose sweet murmurings of them that pray,
And shone the altar lamps unseen before,
So, Dear, as here I stand with thee alone,
The voices of the world sound faint and far,
The glare and glory of the moon grow dim,
And in the stillness, what I had not known,
I know,--a light, pure shining as a star,
A song, uprising like a holy hymn.

DUALITY

Within me are two souls that pity each
The other for the ends they seek, yet smile
Forgiveness, as two friends that love the while
The folly against which each feigns to preach.

And while one barters in the market-place,
Or drains the cup before the tavern fire,
The other, winged with a divine desire,
searches the solitary wastes of space.

And if o'ercome with pleasure this one sleeps,
The other steals away to lay its ear
Upon some lip just cold, perchance to hear
Those wondrous secrets which it knows--and keeps!

LULLABY

O Mary, Mother, if the day we trod
In converse sweet the lily-fields of God,
From earth afar arose a cry of pain,
Would we not weep again?
(_Sings_) Hush, hush, O baby mine,
Mothers twain are surely thine,
One of earth and One divine.

O Mary, Mother, if the day the air
Was sweet with songs celestial, came a prayer
From earth afar and mingled with the strain,
Would we not pray again?
(_Sings_) Sleep, sleep, my baby dear,
Mothers twain are surely near,
One to pray and one to hear.

O Mary, Mother, if, as yesternight
A bird sought shelter at my casement light,
A wounded soul should flutter to thy breast,
Wouldst thou refuse it rest?
(_Sings_) Sleep, darling, peacefully,
Mary, Mother, comforts me;
Christ, her son, hath died for thee.