Chapter III

Oh, the evening vales, the twilight vales,
Where he labors and sweats to the thud of flails,
Singing a song of the toil that he hails,
In the fruitful autumn weather:
In heart and in soul as free from fears
As the first white star in the sky that appears,
While the music of life and of love he hears,
Her life and his together.

THE LOVE OF LOVES

I have not seen her face, and yet
She is more sweet than anything
Of earth--than rose or violet
That winds of May and sunbeams bring.
Of all we know, past or to come,
That beauty holds within its net,
She is the high compendium:
And yet--

I have not touched her robe, and still
She is more dear than lyric words
And music; or than strains that fill
The throbbing throats of forest birds.
Of all we mean by poetry,
That rules the soul and charms the will,
She is the deep epitome:
And still--

She is my world: ah, pity me!
A dream that flies whom I pursue:
Whom all pursue, whoe’er they be,
Who toil for Art and dare and do.
The shadow-love for whom they sigh,
The far ideal affinity,
For whom they live and gladly die--
Ah me!

THREE THINGS

There are three things of Earth
That help us more
Than those of heavenly birth
That all implore--
Than Love or Faith or Hope,
For which we strive and grope.

The first one is Desire,--
Who takes our hand
And fills our hearts with fire
None may withstand;--
Through whom we’re lifted far
Above both moon and star.

The second one is Dream,--
Who leads our feet
By an immortal gleam
To visions sweet;--
Through whom our forms put on
Dim attributes of dawn.

The last of these is Toil,--
Who maketh true,
Within the world’s turmoil
The other two;--
Through whom we may behold
Ourselves with kings enrolled.

IMMORTELLES

I

As some warm moment of repose
In one rich rose
Sums all the summer’s lovely bloom
And pure perfume--
So did her soul epitomize
All hopes that make life wise,
Who lies before us now with lidded eyes,
Faith’s amaranth of truth
Crowning her youth.

II

As some melodious note or strain
May so contain
All of sweet music in one chord,
Or lyric word--
So did her loving heart suggest
All dreams that make life blessed,
Who lies before us now with pulseless breast,
Love’s asphodel of duty
Crowning her beauty.

A LULLABY

I

In her wimple of wind and her slippers of sleep
The twilight comes like a little goose-girl,
Herding her owls with many “Tu-whoos,”
Her little brown owls in the forest deep,
Where dimly she walks in her whispering shoes,
And gown of glimmering pearl.

Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep:
This is the road to Rockaby Town.
Rockaby, lullaby, where dreams are cheap;
Here you can buy any dream for a crown.
Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
The cradle you lie in is soft and is deep,
The wagon that takes you to Rockaby Town.
Now you go up, sweet, now you go down,
Rockaby, lullaby, now you go down.

II

And after the twilight comes midnight, who wears
A mantle of purple so old, so old!
Who stables the lily-white moon, it is said,
In a wonderful chamber with violet stairs,
Up which you can see her come, silent of tread,
On hoofs of pale silver and gold.

Dream, dream, little one, dream:
This is the way to Lullaby Land.
Lullaby, rockaby, where, white as cream,
Sugar-plum bowers drop sweets in your hand.
Dream, dream, little one, dream;
The cradle you lie in is tight at each seam,
The boat that goes sailing to Lullaby Land.
Over the sea, sweet, over the sand,
Lullaby, rockaby, over the sand.