LIBRARY UNIVERSITY Or CALIFORNIA SAN DIEGO 1 THE BOOK OF THE ROSE L/BRARY UNIVERSITY OF I SAlv bit GO I Works of Charles 6. D. Roberts 9 The Kindred of the Wild The Heart of the Ancient Wood Barbara Ladd The Forge in the Forest A Sister to Evangeline Earth's Enigmas The Marshes of Minas A History of Canada The Book of the Rose Poems New York Nocturnes The Book of the Native In Divers Tones (out of print} Songs of the Common Day (out of print) 9 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY New England Building Boston, Mass. Copyright 1303 by L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated). By Charles G. D. Roberts Author of " The Kindred of the Wild," " The Heart of the Ancient Wood? " Barbara Ladd," "Poems," etc. Boston L. C. Page r Company 1903 Copyright, 1900, 1901, by THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY Copyright, 1900, by THE CRITERION PUBLISHING COMPANY Copyright, 1901, by THK CENTURY COMPANY Copyright, 1901, 1902, by THE OUTLOOK COMPANY Copyright, 1900, 1901, 1902, by THE Ess Ess PUBLISHING COMPANY Copyright, 1901, by J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY Copyright, 1901, 1902, by THE FRANK A. MUNSEY COMPANY Copyright, 1902, by HARPER AND BROTHERS Copyright, 1903, by L. C. PAGB & COMPANY (INCORPORATED) A II rights reserved Published, June, 1903 (Colonial Eloctrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. Boston, Mass., U.S.A. CONTENTS I. PACK THE BOOK OF THE ROSE On the Upper Deck 3 O Little Rose, O Dark Rose 1 1 The Rose of My Desire 13 How Little I Knew 15 The Rose's Avatar 1 8 The Covert 19 The Rose of Life 20 The Fear of Love 23 The Wisdom of Love 25 Away, Sad Voices 28 Attar 29 Invocation 31 The House 34 II. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS The Stranded Ship 39 The Pipers of the Pools 46 CONTENTS PAGB The First Ploughing 49 The Native 52 Coal 55 New Dead 56 Child of the Infinite 58 A Remorse 61 The Conspirators 62 Heat in the City 64 The Great and the Little Weavers .... 66 Lines for an Omar Punch-Bowl 70 Shepherdess Fair 73 The Piper and the Chiming Peas . . . . 75 When Mary the Mother Kissed the Child . 77 At the Wayside Shrine 79 The Aim 82 PART I. THE BOOK OF THE ROSE ON THE UPPER DECK. As the will of last year's wind, As the drift of the morrow's rain, As the goal of the falling star, As the treason sinned in vain, As the bow that shines and is gone, As the night cry heard no more Is the way of the woman's meaning Beyond man's eldest lore. HE. This hour to me is like a rose just open, The wonder of its golden heart not yet Fully revealed. So long I've waited for it, Prefigured it in dream, and scourged my hope 3 ON THE UPPER DECK With fear lest jealous fortune should deny, That now I hardly dare Am I awake ? Can it be true I have you here beside me ? Can it be true I have you here alone Most wonderfully alone among these strangers Who seem to me like senseless shapes of air ? The throb of the great engines, the obscure Hiss of the water past our speeding hull Seem to enfold and press you closer to me. No, do not move ! Alone although we be, I dare not touch your hand ; your gown's dear hem I will not touch lest I should break my dream And just an empty deck-chair mock my longing. But (for the beggar may in dreams be king), Oh, let your eyes but touch me, let my spirit But drink, but drain, but bathe in their deep light, And slake its cherished anguish. Look at me \ ON THE UPPER DECK SHE. Look how the water's waiting holds the sky ! I think I never saw the Sound so still. That wash of beryl green, that melting violet, That fine rose-amber veiling deeps of glory Our eyes could not endure how each is doubled, Lest we should miss some marvel of strange tone, And be forever poor. Such beauty seems To cry like violins. Hush, and you'll hear it. Don't look at me when God is at his miracles. HE. He topped all miracle in making you. Your mouth, your throat, your eyes, your hands, your hair To look at these is harps within my soul, The music of the stars at Time's first morning. 5 ON THE UPPER DECK How can I see the wide, familiar world When all my being drowns in your deep eyes ? What is the maddest sunset to your eyes ? Let us not talk of sunsets. SHE. Soon this rose Of incommunicable light will fade, Its ultimate petals sinking in the sea. Be still, and watch the vaster bloom unfold Whose pollen is the dust of stars, whose petals The tissue of strange tears, desire and sleep. HE. We talk of roses, meaning all things fair And rare and enigmatic ; but the rose Transcending all, the Rose of Life, is you ! 6 O Rose, blossom of wonder, dark blossom of ancient dream, Wan tides of the Wandering Sorrow through your deep slumber stream ; Warm -winds of the Wavering Passion are lost in your crimson fold, And memory and foreboding at the hush of your heart lie cold. O Rose, blossom of mystery, holding within your deeps The hurt of a thousand vigils, the heal of a thou- sand sleeps, There breathes upon your petals a power from the ends of earth. Tour beauty is heavy with knowledge of life and death and birth. ON THE UPPER DECK O Rose, blossom of longing the faint suspense, and the fire, The wistfulness of time, and the unassuaged de- sire, The pity of tears on the pillow, the pang of tears unshed With these your spirit is weary, with these your beauty is fed. SHE. Woman or rose, your verses do her credit, Barring some small confusion in the figure. HE. 'Tis fusion, not confusion. So the rose Be beautiful enough, and strange enough, Love in his haste may take its sweet for you ; And sun and rain, wise gardeners, seeing you With face uplift, will know the rose you are. 8 ON THE UPPER DECK SHE. Let us not talk of roses. Don't you think The engines' pulse throbs louder now the light Has gone ? The hiss of water past our hull Is more mysterious, with a menace in it ? And that pale streak above the unseen land, How ominous ! A sword has just such pallor ! (Yes, you may put the scarf around my shoul- ders.) Never has life shown me the face of beauty But near it I have seen the fear of fear. HE. I knew not fear until I knew your beauty. SHE. Let us not talk of me. Look down, close in, There where the night-black water breaks and seethes. ON THE UPPER DECK How its heart, torn and shuddering, burns to splendour ! What climbing lights ! What rapture of white fire! Clear souls of flame returning to the infinite ! HE. If you should ever come to say " I love you," I think that even thus my life's dark tide Would flame to sudden glory, and the gloom Of long grief lift forever ! Dear, your eyes, Your great eyes, shine upon me, soft as with tears. Your shoulder touches me. What does it mean ? I hold you to me. Is it love and life ? 10 SHE. Let us not talk of love! I know so little Of love ! I only know that life wears not The face of beauty, but the face of fear. The face of fear is gone. The face of beauty Comes when you hold me so ! Help me to live ! Help me to live, and hold me from the terror ! ii O LITTLE ROSE, O DARK ROSE. little rose, O dark rose, With smouldering petals curled, 1 am the wind that comes for you From the other side of the world. little rose, O dark rose, With the hushed and golden heart, 1 am your bee with burdened wings, Too laden to depart. little rose, O dark rose, Your soul a seed of fire, 1 am the dew that dies in you, In the flame of your desire. O LITTLE ROSE, O DARK ROSE little rose, O dark rose, The madness of your breath ! 1 am the moth to drain your sweet, Even though the dregs be death. little rose, O dark rose, When the garden day is done 1 am the dusk that broods o'er you Until the morrow's sun. THE ROSE OF MY DESIRE. O wild, dark flower of woman, Deep rose of my desire, An eastern wizard made you Of earth and stars and fire. When the orange moon swung low Over the camphor-trees, By the silver shaft of the fountain He wrought his mysteries. The hot, sweet mould of the garden He took from a secret place To become your glimmering body And the lure of your strange face. THE ROSE OF MY DESIRE From the swoon of the tropic heaven He drew down star on star, And breathed them into your soul That your soul might wander far On earth forever homeless, But intimate of the spheres, A pang in your mystic laughter, A portent in your tears. From the night's heat, hushed, electric, He summoned a shifting flame, And cherished it, and blew on it Till it burned into your name. And he set the name in my heart For an unextinguished fire, O wild, dark flower of woman, Deep rose of my desire. HOW LITTLE I KNEW. How little I knew, when I first saw you, And your eyes for a moment questioned mine, It amounted to this, that the dawn and the dew, The midnight's dark, and the midnoon's shine, The awe of the silent, soaring peak, The harebell's blue, and the cloud in the blue, And all the beauty I sing and seek, Would come to mean just you ! Yet I might have known; for that one deep look Which you gave me from under your hat's low brim Months afterward in my memory shook And made my pulses swim. 16 HOW LITTLE I KNEW It will burn in my heart the long years through ; And when this life of the flesh is done I will open my heart and show it to you In the world beyond the sun. THE ROSE'S AVATAR. There grew a rose more wonderful Than ever Saadi sang. Its loveliness occult and strange, A rapture and a pang. Its petals had the pulsing touch That shakes the blood with fire. Its warm deeps were the avatar Of unassuaged desire. Hid scents and hushed seraglio dreams Were in its subtle breath, The madness of the Maenad's joy, The tenderness of death. Its soul was all the mystic East, Its heart was all the South, Till love and tears transmuted it To the dark rose of thy mouth. 18 THE COVERT. Sharp drives the rain for me, Bitter the long night's pain for me, Bitter the dawn's disdain for me, And breath so vain a prayer! But open your heart and let me in. The deep of your soul, oh, set me in ! And sorrow of life shall forget me in The hiding of your hair ! THE ROSE OF LIFE. The Rose spoke in the garden : " Why am I sad ? The vast of sky above me Is blue and glad ; The hushed deep of my heart Hath the sun's gold ; The dew slumbers till noon In my petals' hold. Beauty I have, and wisdom, And love I know, Yet cannot release my spirit Of its strange woe." Then a Wind, older than Time, Wiser than Sleep, THE ROSE OF LIFE Answered : " The whole world's sorrow Is yours to keep. Its dark descends upon you At day's high noon ; Its pallor is whitening about you From every moon ; The cries of a thousand lovers, A thousand slain, The tears of all the forgotten Who kissed in vain, And the journeying years that have vanished Have left on you The witness, each, of its pain, Ancient, yet new. So many lives you have lived ; So many a star Hath veered in the Signs to make you The wonder you are ! And this is the price of your beauty : Your wild soul is thronged 21 THE ROSE OF LIFE With the phantoms of joy unfulfilled That beauty hath wronged, With the pangs of all secret betrayals, The ghosts of desire, The bite of old flame, and the chill Of the ashes of fire." zz THE FEAR OF LOVE. Oh, take me into the still places of your heart, And hide me under the night of your deep hair ; For the fear of love is upon me ; I am afraid lest God should discover the wonder- fulness of our love. Shall I find life but to lose it ? Shall I stretch out my hands at last to joy, And take but the irremediable anguish ? For the cost of heaven is the fear of hell ; The terrible cost of love Is the fear to be cast out therefrom. Oh, touch me ! Oh, look upon me ! Look upon my spirit with your eyes, 23 THE FEAR OF LOVE And touch me with the benediction of your hands ! Breathe upon me, breathe upon me, And my soul shall live. Kiss me with your mouth upon my mouth And I shall be strong. THE WISDOM OF LOVE. My life she takes between her hands ; My spirit at her feet Is taught the lore inscrutable, The wisdom bitter sweet. The world becomes a little thing; Art, travel, music, men, And all that these can ever give Are in her brow's white ken. I look into her eyes and learn The mystery of tears ; The pang of doubt ; the doom that haunts The fleeting of the years ; 2 5 THE WISDOM OF LOVE And pale foreknowledge, hid from all But those who fear to know ; And memory's treason, that betrays Joy to the nameless woe ; Compassion, like the rain of spring ; And truth without a flaw ; And one great gladness, hushed and still With love's initiate awe. In her deep hair I hide my heart ; And in that scented shade I sail sleep's immemorial sea, Expectant, unafraid ; And take the enigmatic word Of dream upon my breath, And learn the secrecy of joy, The long content of death. 26 THE WISDOM OF LOVE Her sad mouth, scarlet, passionate, Shows me the world's desire, The mirth that is the mask of pain, And that immortal fire Drawn by the touch of kiss on kiss From life's eternal core, Frail, flickering, mordant, keen, unquenched When time shall be no more. Then worship, love's last wisdom, learned, I bow my spirit there, And let my soul in silence plead The passion which is prayer. 27 AWAY, SAD VOICES. Away, sad voices, telling Of old, forgotten pain ! My heart, at grief rebelling, To joy returns again. My life, at tears protesting, To long delight returns, Where, close of all my questing, Her dear eyes love discerns. 28 ATTAR. The dark rose of your mouth Is summer and the south to me j The attar of desire and dream Its tendernesses seem to me. The clear deep of your eyes A lure of wonder lies to me, Whereto my longing soul descends While love comes by and bends to me. The hushed night of your hair Breathes an enchanted air to me Strange heats from many a mystic clime And far-off, perished time to me. 29 ATTAR The pulses of your throat, What madness they denote to me, Passion, and hunger, and despair, And ecstasy, and prayer to me ! The dusk bloom of your flesh Is as a magic mesh to me, Wherein our spirits lie ensnared, Your wild, wild beauty bared to me. The white flower of your feet, How sacred and how sweet to me ! From some close-hung and cloistered shrine Borne to make life divine to me. INVOCATION. Voice, Whose sound is as the falling of the rain On harp-strings strung in casements by the sea, Low with all passion, poignant with all pain, In dreams, out of thy distance, come to me. 1 hear no music if I hear not thee. O Hands, Whose touch is like the balm of apple-bloom Brushed by the winds of April from the bough, Amid the passionate memories of this room Flower out, sweet hands, a presence in the gloom, And touch my longing mouth and cool my brow. 31 INVOCATION O Eyes, Whose least look is a flame within my soul, (Still burns that first long look, across the years !) Lure of my life, and my desire's control, Illume me and my darkness disappears. Seeing you not, my eyes see naught for tears. O Lips, The rose's lovelier sisters, you whose breath Seems the consummate spirit of the rose Honey and fire, delirium and repose, And that long dream of love that laughs at death All these, all these your scarlet blooms enclose. O Hair, Whose shadows hold the mystery of a shrine Heavy with vows and worship, where the pale Priests who pour out their souls in incense pine INVOCATION For dead loves unforgot be thou the veil To my heart's altar, secret and divine. O Voice, O Hands, O Eyes, O Lips, O Hair, Of your strange beauty God Himself hath care, So deep the riddle He hath wrought therein Whether for love's delight, or love's despair. 33 THE HOUSE. My heart is a house, deep-walled and warm, To cover you from the night of storm. O little wild feet, too softly white To roam the world's tempestuous night, The years like sleet on my windows beat, Come in and be cherished, O little wild feet. My heart is a house, deep-walled and warm, To cover you from the night of storm. In the hillside hollow each lonely flower Is closed against the disastrous hour. The wet crow rocks in the wind-blown tree ; The tern drives in from the lashing sea. 34 THE HOUSE My heart is a house, deep-walled and warm, To cover you from the night of storm. Down from the naked heights of cloud Care and despair cry low, cry loud. The dark woods mutter with thronging fears ; The rocks are drenched with the rain of tears. My heart is a house, deep-walled and warm, To cover you from the night of storm. O little dark head, too dear and fair For the buffeting skies and the bitter air, Time sweeps the wold with his wings of dread, Come in and be comforted, little dark head. My heart is a house, deep-walled and warm, To cover you from the night of storm. 35 PART II. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 37 THE STRANDED SHIP. Far up the lonely strand the storm had lifted her. And now along her keel the merry tides make stir No more. The running waves that sparkled at her prow Seethe to the chains and sing no more with laughter now. No more the clean sea-furrow follows her. No more To the hum of her gallant tackle the hale Nor'- westers roar. No more her bulwarks journey. For the only boon they crave Is the guerdon of all good ships and true, the boon of a deep-sea grave. 39 THE STRANDED SHIP Take me out, sink me deep in the green pro- found, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound. No more she mounts the circles from Fundy to the Horn, From Cuba to the Cape runs down the tropic morn, Explores the Vast Uncharted where great bergs ride in ranks, Nor shouts a broad " Ahoy " to the dories on the Banks. No more she races freights to Zanzibar and back, Nor creeps where the fog lies blind along the liners' track, 40 THE STRANDED SHIP No more she dares the cyclone's disastrous core of calm To greet across the dropping wave the amber isles of palm. Take me out, sink me deep in the green pro- found, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound. Amid her trafficking peers, the wind-wise, journeyed ships, At the black wharves no more, nor at the weedy slips, She comes to port with cargo from many a storied clime. No more to the rough-throat chantey her windlass creaks in time. 41 THE STRANDED SHIP No more she loads for 'London with spices from Ceylon, With white spruce deals and wheat and apples from St. John. No more from Pernambuco with cotton-bales, no more With hides from Buenos Ayres she clears for Baltimore. Take me out, sink me deep in the green pro- found, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound. Wan with the slow vicissitudes of wind and rain and sun How grieves her deck for the sailors whose hearty brawls are done ! 4.2 THE STRANDED SHIP Only the wandering gull brings word of the open wave, With shrill scream at her taffrail deriding her alien grave. Around the keel that raced the dolphin and the shark Only the sand-wren twitters from barren dawn till dark ; And all the long blank noon the blank sand chafes and mars The prow once swift to follow the lure of the dancing stars. Take me out, sink me deep in the green pro- found, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound. 43 THE STRANDED SHIP And when the winds are low, and when the tides are still, And the round moon rises inland over the naked hill, And o'er her parching seams the dry cloud- shadows pass, And dry along the land-rim lie the shadows of thin grass, Then aches her soul with longing to launch and sink away Where the fine silts lift and settle, the sea- things drift and stray, To make the port of Last Desire, and slumber with her peers In the tide-wash rocking softly through the un- numbered years. Take me out, sink me deep in the green pro- found, To sway with the long weed, swing with the drowned, 44 THE STRANDED SHIP Where the change of the soft tide makes no sound, Far below the keels of the outward bound. 45 THE PIPERS OF THE POOLS. Pipers of the chilly pools Pipe the April in. Summon all the singing hosts, All the wilding kin. Through the cool and teeming damp Of the twilight air Call till all the April children Answer everywhere. From your cold and fluting throats Pipe the world awake, Pipe the mould to move again, Pipe the sod to break. 46 THE PIPERS OF THE POOLS Pipe the mating song of earth And the fecund fire, Love and laughter, pang and dream, Desire, desire, desire. Then a wonder shall appear, Miracle of time : Up through root and germ and sapwood Life shall climb, and climb. Then the hiding things shall hear you And the sleeping stir, And the far-off troops of exile Gather to confer ; Then the rain shall kiss the bud And the sun the bee, Till they all, the painted children Flower and wing get free ; 47 THE PIPERS OF THE POOLS And amid the shining grass Ephemera arise, And the windflowers in the hollow Open starry eyes ; And delight comes in to whisper " Soon, soon, soon Earth shall be but one wild blossom Breathing to the moon ! " 4 8 THE FIRST PLOUGHING. Calls the crow from the pine-tree top When the April air is still. He calls to the farmer hitching his team In the farmyard under the hill. " Come up," he cries, " come out and come up, For the high field's ripe to till. Don't wait for word from the dandelion Or leave from the daffodil." Cheeps the flycatcher " Here old earth Warms up in the April sun ; And the first ephemera, wings yet wet, From the mould creep one by one. 49 THE FIRST PLOUGHING Under the fence where the flies frequent Is the earliest gossamer spun. Come up from the damp of the valley lands, For here the winter's done." Whistles the high-hole out of the grove His summoning loud and clear : " Chilly it may be down your way But the high south field has cheer. On the sunward side of the chestnut stump The woodgrubs wake and appear. Come out to your ploughing, come up to your ploughing, The time for ploughing is here." Then dips the coulter and drives the share, And the furrows faintly steam. The crow drifts furtively down from the pine To follow the clanking team. THE FIRST PLOUGHING The flycatcher tumbles, the high-hole darts In the young noon's yellow gleam ; And wholesome sweet the smell of the sod Upturned from its winter's dream. THE NATIVE. Rocks, I am one with you ; Sea, I am yours. Your rages come and go, Your strength endures. Passion may burn and fade; Pain surge and cease. My still soul rests unchanged Through storm and peace. Fir-tree, beaten by wind, Sombre, austere, Your sap is in my veins, O kinsman dear. 52 THE NATIVE Your fibres rude and true My sinews feed Sprung of the same bleak earth, The same rough seed. The tempest harries us. It raves and dies ; And wild limbs rest again Under wide skies. Grass, that the salt hath scourged, Dauntless and grey, Though the harsh season chide Your scant array, Year by year you return To conquer fate. The clean life nourishing you Makes me, too, great. 53 THE NATIVE O rocks, O fir-tree brave, O grass and sea ! Your strength is mine, and you Endure with me. 54 COAL. Deep in the hush of those unfathomed glooms Whereunder steamed the wet and pregnant earth, Pulsing thick sap and pungent, hot perfumes, This providence of unguessed needs had birth. From drench of the innumerable rain And drowse of unrecorded noon on noon It sucked the heat and plucked the light, to gain For times unborn a boon. 55 NEW DEAD. Where are the kind eyes gone That watched me so ? Was it but now they wept, Or long ago ? Why did they run with tears And yearn to me ? What was it in my face They feared to see ? Ah, world, when did I pass Beyond your smile, Forget you, for a long Or little while ? NEW DEAD Descending from the sun Into this night, Impenetrable dark That chokes my sight, Ah, now I know why stirs No more my breath ! My mouth is stopt with dust, My dream with death. Where is this seed of self I clutch to hold ? Will it dissolve with me Into the mould ? It slips, ah, let me sleep, Worn, worn, outworn ! So to be strong when I - Arise, new born ! 57 CHILD OF THE INFINITE. Sun, and Moon, and Wind, and Flame, Dust, and Dew, and Day and Night, Ye endure. Shall I endure not, Though so fleeting in your sight ? Ye return. Shall I return not, Flesh, or in the flesh's despite ? Ye are mighty. But I hold you Compassed in a vaster might. Sun, before your flaming circuit Smote upon the uncumbered dark, I, within the Thought Eternal Palpitant, a quenchless spark, Watched while God awoke and set you For a measure and a mark. 58 CHILD OF THE INFINITE Dove of Heaven, ere you brooded Whitely o'er the shoreless waste, And upon the driven waters Your austere enchantment placed, I was power in God's conception, Without rest and without haste. Breath of Time, before your whisper Wandered o'er the naked world, Ere your wrath from pole to tropic Running Alps of ocean hurled, I, the germ of storm in stillness, At the heart of God lay furled. Journeying Spirit, ere your tongues Taught the perished to aspire, Charged the clod, and called the mortal Through the reinitiant fire, I was of the fiery impulse Urging the Divine Desire. 59 CHILD OF THE INFINITE Seed of Earth, when down the void You were scattered from His hand, When the spinning clot contracted, Globed and greened at His command, I, behind the sifting fingers, Saw the scheme of beauty planned. Phantom of the Many Waters, When no more you fleet and fall, When no more your round you follow, Infinite, ephemeral, At the feet of the Unsleeping I shall toss you like a ball. Rolling Masks of Life and Death, When no more your ancient place Knows you, when your light and darkness Swing no longer over space, My remembrance shall restore you To the favour of His face. 60 A REMORSE. I dreamed last night my love was dead. The dreadful thing was this ! Not that my lips would feel no more The kindness of her kiss ; Not that my feet the weary years Would go uncomraded; Not that of all my love for her So much remained unsaid ; But, sickening, I remembered how I had been false to her ! " O God ! " I cried aloud She knows I have been false to her ! " 61 THE CONSPIRATORS. Come, Death, sit down with me, Thou and Love, we three In a sad conspiracy Against life, our enemy. Thine, Death, the briefer score, Though she hate thee evermore. Hate of hers is less sore Than her treasons honeyed o'er With old, sweet lies and false, sweet lore. Whom she hurts thou healest, Death. That is what she hates thee for. Thine, Love, the bitterer plaint. She has kissed thee, fooled thee, shamed thee, 62 THE CONSPIRATORS Clasped thee, and disclaimed thee, Found thee white, child and saint, Left thee with the world's taint, Found thee strong, left thee faint, Used thee, and defamed thee I, who love life, needs must live ; But, loving most, can least forgive. Leave her, Love ! Forsake her, Death ! So shall men come to curse their breath ! HEAT IN THE CITY. Over the scorching roofs of iron The red moon rises slow. Uncomforted beneath its light The pale crowds gasping go. The heart-sick city, spent with day, Cries out in vain for sleep. The childless wife beside her dead Is too outworn to weep. The children in the upper rooms Lie faint, with half-shut eyes. In the thick-breathing, lighted ward The stricken workman dies. 64 HEAT IN THE CITY From breathless pit and sweltering loft Dim shapes creep one by one To throng the curb and crowd the stoops And fear to-morrow's sun. THE GREAT AND THE LITTLE WEAVERS. The great and the little weavers, They neither rest nor sleep. They work in the height and the glory, They toil in the dark and the deep. The rainbow melts with the shower, The white-thorn falls in the gust, The cloud-rose dies into shadow, The earth-rose dies into dust. But they have not faded forever, They have not flowered in vain, For the great and the little weavers Are weaving under the rain. GREAT AND LITTLE WEAVERS Recede the drums of the thunder When the Titan chorus tires, And the bird-song piercing the sunset Faints with the sunset fires, But the trump of the storm shall fail not, Nor the flute-cry fail of the thrush, For the great and the little weavers Are weaving under the hush. The comet flares into darkness, The flame dissolves into death, The power of the star and the dew They grow and are gone like a breath, But ere yet the old wonder is done Is the new-old wonder begun, For the great and the little weavers Are weaving under the sun. GREAT AND LITTLE WEAVERS The domes of an empire crumble, A child's hope dies in tears ; Time rolls them away forgotten In the silt of the flooding years ; The creed for which men died smiling Decays to a beldame's curse ; The love that made lips immortal Drags by in a tattered hearse. But not till the search of the moon Sees the last white face uplift, And over the bones of the kindreds The bare sands dredge and drift, Shall Love forget to return And lift the unused latch, (In his eyes the look of the traveller, On his lips the foreign catch), 68 GREAT AND LITTLE WEAVERS Nor the mad song leave men cold, Nor the high dream summon in vain, For the great and the little weavers Are weaving in heart and brain. 69 LINES FOR AN OMAR PUNCH-BOWL. TO C. B. Omar, dying, left his dust To the rose and vine in trust. " Through a thousand springs " said he, " Mix your memories with me. " Fire the sap that fills each bud With an essence from my blood. " When the garden glows with June Use me through the scented noon, LINES FOR AN OMAR PUNCH-BOWL " Till the heat's alchemic art Fashions me in every part. " You, whose petals strew the grass Round my lone, inverted glass, " Each impassioned atom mould To a red bloom with core of gold. " You, whose tendrils, soft as tears, Touch me with remembered years, " When your globing clusters shine, Slow distil my dreams to wine, " Till by many a sweet rebirth Love and joy transmute my earth, " Changing me, on some far day, To a more ecstatic clay, LINES FOR AN OMAR PUNCH-BOWL " Whence the Potter's craft sublime Shall mould a shape to outlast Time." Omar's body, Omar's soul, Breathe in beauty from this bowl, At whose thronged, mysterious rim Wan desires, enchantments dim, Tears and laughter, life and death, Fleeing love and fainting breath, Seem to waver like a flame, Dissolve, yet ever rest the same, Fixed by your art, while art shall be, In passionate immobility. 72 SHEPHERDESS FAIR. O shepherdess fair, the flocks you keep Are dreams and desires and tears and sleep. O shepherdess brown, O shepherdess fair, Where are my flocks you have in care ? , My wonderful, white, wide-pasturing sheep Of dream and desire and tears and sleep ? Many the flocks, but small the care You give to their keeping, O shepherdess fair ! O shepherdess gay, your flocks have fed By the iris pool, by the saffron bed, 73 SHEPHERDESS FAIR Till now by noon they have wandered far, And you have forgotten where they are ! O shepherdess fair, O shepherdess wild, Full wise are your flocks, but you a child ! You shall not be chid if you let them stray. In your own wild way, in your own child way, You will call them all back at the close of day. 74 THE PIPER AND THE CHIMING PEAS. There was a little piper man As merry as you please, Who heard one day the sweet-pea blossoms Chiming in the breeze. He murmured with a courtly grace That set them quite at ease, " I never knew that you had such Accomplishments as these ! " If I should pipe until you're ripe I think that by degrees You might become as wise as I And chime in Wagnerese ! " 75 PIPER AND THE CHIMING PEAS " Oh, no, kind Sir ! That could not be ! " Replied the modest peas. " We only play such simple airs As suit the bumble-bees." 76 WHEN MARY THE MOTHER KISSED THE CHILD. When Mary the Mother kissed the Child And night on the wintry hills grew mild, And the strange star swung from the courts of air To serve at a manger with kings in prayer, Then did the day of the simple kin And the unregarded folk begin. When Mary the Mother forgot the pain, In the stable of rock began love's reign. When that new light on their grave eyes broke The oxen were glad and forgot their yoke ; And the huddled sheep in the far hill fold Stirred in their sleep and felt no cold. 77 MARY THE MOTHER KISSED THE CHILD When Mary the Mother gave of her breast To the poor inn's latest and lowliest guest, The God born out of the woman's side, The Babe of Heaven by Earth denied, Then did the hurt ones cease to moan, And the long-supplanted came to their own. When Mary the Mother felt faint hands Beat at her bosom with life's demands, And nought to her were the kneeling kings, The serving star and the half-seen wings, Then was the little of earth made great, And the man came back to the God's estate. AT THE WAYSIDE SHRINE. (STE. ANNE DE BEAUPRE.) So little and so kind a shrine ! So homely and serene a saint ! No violent sorrow can be thine, Thou patient pensioner of constraint ! This gentle gloom that wraps thee in Mistaking for a soul's despair, Thou griev'st, perchance, for some small sin, Too trivial for such fervent prayer. Not sin hath wanned thy weary face, Nor living woe made dark thine eyes, Nor memory wrought this pleading grace, But ignorance, and dumb surmise. 79 AT THE WAYSIDE SHRINE The bleeding feet of shameful pain Have passed not up this tranquil way, Nor late repentance, haply vain, By these slim poplars knelt to pray. Thine is the sadness of the breast That has not known the human strife Weighed down with shelter, worn with rest, Athirst for the free storms of life. Thine is the ache of lips that ache For unknown pangs, unknown delight, The emptiness of hearts that break With dreaming through the empty night. Thy woe thou canst not understand, Poor soul and body incomplete ! Thou hungerest for a little hand And touch of little unknown feet. 80 AT THE WAYSIDE SHRINE But now, because all sorrows cease Assuaged by such sweet faith as thine, The dear Saint Anne shall give thee peace Here at her little, kindly shrine. 81 THE AIM. Thou who lovest not alone The swift success, the instant goal, But hast a lenient eye to mark The failures of the inconstant soul, Consider not my little worth, The mean achievement, scamped in act, The high resolve and low result, The dream that durst not face the fact. But count the reach of my desire. Let this be something in thy sight : 1 have not, in the slothful dark, Forgot the Vision and the Height. 82 THE AIM Neither my body nor my soul To earth's low ease will yield consent. I praise Thee for my will to strive. I bless Thy goad of discontent. 24161 A 000 765 733 1