ENGLAND 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
By the same Writer 
 LONDON VISIONS 
 
^ENGLAND^ 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 BY LAURENCE BINYON 
 
 LONDON: ELKIN MATHEWS 
 
 VIGO STREET 
 
 1909 
 
All rights reserved 
 
DEDICATED TO 
 
 R. W. RAPER, ESQ. 
 
 VICE-PRESIDENT OF 
 
 TRINITY COLLEGE 
 
 OXFORD 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/englandotherpoemOObinyrich 
 

 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 ENGLAND I 
 
 SIRMIONE 4 
 
 RUAN'S voyage II 
 
 love's portrait 27 
 
 forest silence -30 
 
 chateau gaillard 33 
 
 "O LOVE OF MY love!" 35 
 
 THE CLUE 36 
 
 VIOLETS 37 
 
 MOTHER AND CHILD . . . . . . -38 
 
 LITTLE HANDS 43 
 
 LULLABY 44 
 
 " A DAY THAT IS BOUNDLESS AS YOUTH " . . -45 
 
 A WINTER SONG 46 
 
 A SPRING SONG 47 
 
 BAB-LOCK-HYTHE . . . . . . .48 
 
 A PICTURE SEEN IN A DREAM 50 
 
 " BETWEEN THE MOUNTAINS AND THE PLAIN " . . 5 1 
 
viii CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 RICORDI . ... • . . . . -52 
 
 VENICE 54 
 
 DAWN BY THE SEA 56 
 
 WANDERERS 57 
 
 THE CRUSADER 58 
 
 SOLITUDE 62 
 
 " BLUE NOON SHINES O'ER THE SEA " . . . .64 
 
 ** o my peace " 65 
 
 flower and voice 67 
 
 the dark garden 69 
 
 parting and meeting 70 
 
 ** deep in these thoughts " . . . . -71 
 
 day's end .72 
 
 " in misty blue the lark is heard " . . -73 
 
 " hide me in your heart " 75 
 
 the crucible 76 
 
 " i want a thousand things " 78 
 
 A PRAYER . . 79 
 
 MILTON: AN ODE 80 
 
 THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE .... 83 
 
 GLORIOUS HEART 87 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 Shall we but turn from braggart pride 
 Our race to cheapen and defame? 
 Before the world to wail, to chide, 
 And weakness as with vaunting claim? 
 Ere the hour strikes, to abdicate 
 The steadfast spirit that made us great, 
 And rail with scolding tongues at fate? 
 
 If England's heritage indeed 
 
 Be lost, be traded quite away 
 
 For fatted sloth and fevered greed ; 
 
 If, inly rotting, we decay; 
 
 Suffer we then what doom we must, 
 
 But silent, as befits the dust 
 
 Of them whose chastisement was just. 
 
 But rather, England, rally thou 
 Whatever breathes of faith that still 
 Within thee keeps the undying vow 
 And dedicates the constant will. 
 For such yet lives, if not among 
 The boasters, or the loud of tongue 
 Who cry that England's knell is rung. 
 B 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 The faint of heart, the small of brain, 
 In thee but their own image find: 
 Beyond such thoughts as these contain 
 A mightier Presence is enshrined. 
 Nor meaner than their birthright grown 
 Shall these thy latest sons be shown. 
 So thou but use them for thine own. 
 
 By those great spirits burning high 
 
 In our home's heaven, that shall be stars 
 
 To shine, when all is history 
 
 And rumour of old, idle wars; 
 
 By all those hearts which proudly bled 
 
 To make this rose of England red; 
 
 The living, the triumphant dead; 
 
 By all who suffered and stood fast 
 That Freedom might the weak uphold. 
 And in men's ways of wreck and waste 
 Justice her awful flower unfold; 
 By all who out of grief and wrong 
 In passion's art of noble song 
 Made Beauty to our speech belong; 
 
 By those adventurous ones who went 
 Forth overseas, and, self-exiled. 
 Sought from far isle and continent 
 Another England in the wild. 
 For whom no drums beat, yet they fought 
 
ENGLAND 
 
 Alone, in courage of a thought 
 Which an unbounded future wrought ; 
 
 Yea, and yet more by those to-day 
 Who toil and serve for naught of gain. 
 That in thy purer glory they 
 May melt their ardour and their pain ; 
 By these and by the faith of these. 
 The faith that glorifies and frees, 
 Thy lands call on thee, and thy seas. 
 
 If thou hast sinned, shall we forsake 
 Thee, or the less account us thine? 
 Thy sores, thy shames on us we take. 
 Flies not for us thy famed ensign? 
 Be ours to cleanse and to atone; 
 No man this burden bears alone; 
 England, our best shall be thine own. 
 
 Lift up thy cause into the light ! 
 Put all the factious lips to shame! 
 Our loves, our faiths, our hopes unite 
 And strike into a single flame! 
 Whatever from without betide, 
 O purify the soul of pride 
 In us; thy slumbers cast aside; 
 And of thy sons be justified! 
 
SIRMIONE 
 
 Give me thy hand, Belov'd! I cannot see; 
 
 So close above our steps, from tree to tree, 
 
 Shadows hang over us. How huge and still 
 
 Night sleeps! and yet a murmur, a low thrill, 
 
 Sighed out of mystery, steals slowly near, 
 
 Solitary as longing or as fear, 
 
 Through the faint foliage, stirring it, and shy 
 
 Amid the stillness, ere it tremble by. 
 
 Touches us on the cheek and on the brow 
 
 Light as a dew-dipt finger ! Listen now, 
 
 'Tis not alone the bushings of the bough. 
 
 But on the slabbed rock-beaches far beneath 
 
 Listen, the liquid breath 
 
 Of the vast lake that rustles up all round 
 
 Whispering for ever! Soon shall we be where 
 
 The trees end, and the promontory bare 
 
 Breathes all that wide and water-wandering air 
 
 Which shall our foreheads and our lips delight. 
 
 Blown darkly through the breadth and depth and 
 
 height 
 Of soft, immense, and solitary Night. 
 
 — Where is thd Day, 
 
SIRMIONE 5 
 
 Bright as a dream, that on this same cliff-way 
 
 Fretted light shadows on old olive stems, 
 
 By whose gray, riven roots, like scarlet gems, 
 
 The little poppies burned? Where those clear hues 
 
 Of water, melted to diviner blues 
 
 In the deep distance of each radiant bay, 
 
 But close beneath us, past the narrowed edge 
 
 Of shadow from sheer crag and jutting ledge. 
 
 Shallowing upon the low reef into gold, 
 
 A ripple of keen light for ever rolled 
 
 Up to the frail reed sighing on the shore? 
 
 Where are those mountains far-enthroned and hoar 
 
 Above the glittering water's slumbrous heat, 
 
 With old blanched towns sprinkled about their feet. 
 
 Lifting majestic shoulders, that each side 
 
 Of that steep misty northern chasm divide. 
 
 Where, ambushed in the dim gulf ere they leap, 
 
 Wild spirits of the Wind and Thunder sleep? 
 
 'Tis flown, that many-coloured dream is flown. 
 
 And with the heart of Night we are alone. 
 
 This is the verge. The promontory ends. 
 
 Now the soft branches cover us no more. 
 
 Abrupt the path descends: 
 
 But we will sit here, high above the shore. 
 
 Here, where we know what wild flowered bushes cloak 
 
 Old ruined walls, and crumbling arches choke 
 
 With mounded earth, though buried from our eyes 
 
 In dark now, as beneath dark centuries 
 
6 SIRMIONE 
 
 That marble-towered magnificence of Rome, 
 From whose hot dust the passionate poet fled 
 Hither, and laid his head 
 Where these same waters laughed him welcome home. 
 
 It is all dark; but how the air breathes free! 
 
 Beloved, lean to me! 
 
 Feel how the stillness like a bath desired 
 
 With happy pressure heals our senses tired ; 
 
 And drink the keen sweet fragrance from the grass 
 
 And wafts from hidden flowers that come and pass, — 
 
 None here but we, and we have left behind 
 
 Noise of the rough world, in its cares confined, 
 
 All with the daylight drowned 
 
 In darkness on this height of utmost ground. 
 
 Where under us the sighing waters cease 
 
 And over us are only stars and peace. 
 
 O Love, Love, Love, look up ! Let thy head lean 
 
 Back on my shoulder. Ah, I feel the keen 
 
 Indrawing of thy breath, and thy heart beat 
 
 Under my arm, and sighing through thee sweet 
 
 The wonder of the Night that widely broods 
 
 Over us with her glittering multitudes. 
 
 O in Night's garden has a fountain sprung 
 
 That over old earth showers for ever young 
 
 A fairy splendour of still-dropping spray? 
 
 Or in mad rapture has enamoured May 
 
 Through the warm dusk mounted like wine, and towered 
 
SIRMIONE 7 
 
 And in far spaces infinitely flowered, 
 
 Breaking the deep heaven into milky bloom? 
 
 So beautiful in this most tender gloom 
 
 Ten thousand thousand stars through height on height 
 
 Burn over us, how breathless and how bright! 
 
 Some mild, some fevered, some august and large, 
 
 Royal and blazing like a hero's targe, 
 
 Some faint and secret, from abysses brought, 
 
 Lone as an incommunicable thought! 
 
 They throng, they reign, they droop, they bloom, 
 
 they glow 
 Upon our gaze, and as we gaze they grow 
 In patience and in glory, till the mind 
 Is brimmed and to all other being blind; 
 They hang, they fall towards us, spears of fire 
 Piercing us through with joy and with desire. 
 
 Ah me. Beloved, comes an alien gust, 
 A sudden cold thought, blowing bitter dust 
 Upon this rapture. They are dead, all dead! 
 'Tis but the beauty of Medusa's head 
 Gleaming on us in icy masks, that stare 
 From everlasting winter blind and bare ; 
 They have no answer for our hearts that yearn. 
 They have no joy in burning, only burn 
 Upon their senseless motion. 
 
 Ah, no, no 
 Canst thou not feel the warm truth overflow? 
 
8 SIRMIONE 
 
 Light to light answers, even as heart to heart, 
 And by their shining we in them have part. 
 Lo, the same light that in the tiniest spark 
 Makes momentary beauty from the dark. 
 The light that blesses warm earth, and inweaves 
 A million colours in young flowers and leaves. 
 That our sick thoughts and melancholy eyes 
 Confounds with magical simplicities. 
 Yea, that by dawn's beginning shall unfold 
 Wide glimmering waters, and to glory mould 
 Frore peaks, wild torrents in the vales between. 
 And golden mists on lawns of living green, 
 'Tis the same light that now above us showers 
 These star-drops, white and fair as falling flowers ; 
 And silent rings a cry from star to sun, 
 Through all the worlds, light, life and love are one! 
 
 Hush thy heart now. Beloved, hush to sink 
 
 Thy thought down, deep as the still mind can think ; 
 
 Then climb as high as boldest thought can climb! 
 
 Were these dark heavens the unfathomed gulfs of Time, 
 
 So might we see bright peopling spirits star 
 
 The memoriless ages, burning far. 
 
 Splendid or faint, tempestuous or serene. 
 
 All quick and fiery spirits that have been. 
 
 From whose immortal ecstasies and pains 
 
 Drops of red life run sanguine in our veins. 
 
 Who lived and loved, and prodigally spent 
 
 Their strength, their prayers, upon one pure intent, 
 
SIRMIONE 
 
 In whom no deed was willed, no lonely thought 
 
 Attempered and to sword-blade keenness brought, 
 
 But it has helped us, even us, for whom 
 
 They shine in glory from the ages' gloom. 
 
 But oh, it is not only these I see: 
 
 Look up, behold unnumbered hosts to be! 
 
 What shall we do for them, whose hope endears 
 
 Futurity's dark wilderness of years? 
 
 Heroes, that shall adventure and attain 
 
 What broke our wills in passion and in pain ; 
 
 Sages, to find all that we vainly seek, 
 
 Poets, to utter all we cannot speak! 
 
 And they at last shall into strong towers build 
 
 The stones we bled to gather, the unfulfilled 
 
 House of our dream ; what was but fable sung, 
 
 Or indignation on a prophet's tongue. 
 
 Made form and hue of life's own tissue, wrought 
 
 Into the rich reality of thought. 
 
 And women, ah, what majesty of fate 
 
 Is theirs, for whom the little is made great, 
 
 The tender strong; far-off they also wait 
 
 The glory of their burden. Love, what deep 
 
 Of mystery unfolds! Let thy heart leap, — 
 
 Lo, at thy bosom all the world to come, 
 
 A child! It waits, it watches, it is dumb. 
 
 Yet hearkens and desires ; the vision grows 
 
 Before us, and behind us overflows. 
 
 Mingling, as throng on throng of stars o'erhead. 
 
 One undivided host, the mighty dead 
 
lO SIRMIONE 
 
 The mightier unborn ! Time is rent away; 
 There is no morrow, no, nor yesterday. 
 Nor here, nor there, nor sleeping, nor awaking; 
 But, like full waters into ocean breaking. 
 Lost at this moment in our hearts' high beating 
 The boundless tides of either world are meeting; 
 And by the love-cry in my heart that rings. 
 And by the answer in thy heart that sings. 
 We feel, at once exulting and afraid. 
 Near to the glowing of the Hand that made 
 And out of earth, with divine fire instinct. 
 Moulded us for each other's need, and linked 
 Our brief breath with the eternal will. That light 
 Shall kindle, in the dulling world's despite. 
 The inmost of our spirits, burning through 
 The shadow of all we suffer, dream, and do. 
 As surely as mine eyes, new facultied 
 In vision to the estranging day denied. 
 Still shall behold, when this fair night is fled. 
 All the stars shine round thy beloved head. 
 
RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 I 
 
 The mist has fallen over the isles, 
 
 And Ruan turns his boat for home. 
 
 The wind is down ; with an oar he steers 
 
 The narrow races, where at whiles 
 
 To left or right through fog he hears 
 
 The low roar and short hiss of foam, 
 
 As either rock-sharp shore he nears. 
 
 Full glad at heart he guides for home, 
 
 Full gladly looks ere night to reach 
 
 The little haven, twilit beach, 
 
 And pleasant smell of the green earth. 
 
 That he has left three days ago; 
 
 To warm both hands before the glow 
 
 Of peats upon the cottage-hearth. 
 
 Where his gray father will be mending 
 
 The old nets, and his mother, bending 
 
 Over the fire, at his step uplook 
 
 From the pot that smokes in the ingle-nook. 
 
 Is it a sea-mew's cry that calls 
 Loud through the mist and wailing falls? 
 II 
 
12 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 Suddenly the white veil lifted, 
 And in smoking coils was drifted. 
 Ruan felt a cry ring through him. 
 There on a jutting rock alone 
 Stood a woman crying to him ; 
 White her hair was heedless blown ; 
 'Mid gleaming surf the rock rose bare ; 
 Her withered arms were stretched in prayer. 
 " Fisherman, fisherman, help! " she cried. 
 Ruan turned his boat aside 
 Swiftly in the eddying tide. 
 
 " Fisherman, take me in thy boat 
 And to my own home carry me. 
 To the isle of Melilot 
 That lies upon the western sea." 
 
 " How camest thou on this stormy strand, 
 A barren rock that men avoid?" 
 
 " Robbers came upon our land. 
 Burnt and pillaged and destroyed. 
 Half our women folk they reft. 
 And me upon this rock they left." 
 
 " Where is this isle of Melilot? 
 For of all the isles I know it not." 
 
 " Come hither and take me in with thee 
 And I will guide thee across the sea." 
 
RUAN'S VOYAGE 13 
 
 Heavily Ruan thought on his home 
 In Westerness across the foam ; 
 But he turned his oar and glided near; 
 As it were his mother, he lifted her. 
 
 She sat in the stern, cloaked and dim, 
 And through the chill mist guided him. 
 
 It seemed that day had never an end, 
 It seemed that sea had never a shore, 
 Such weary hours he seemed to bend 
 Upon his never-resting oar, 
 And felt the cold salt on his lip. 
 And from his hair the vapour drip; 
 But still the blank fog brooded round 
 Over an ocean without sound. 
 
 At last along the glassy seas 
 Crept faint upon his face a breeze, 
 And like a shadow soft and light 
 Stole up a little wave that knocked 
 Upon the stern ; the boat was rocked ; 
 He looked, and O heart-stilling sight! 
 She who sat there was not the same ! 
 Before his eyes the winter old 
 Fell from her; the full hair ou trolled 
 In splendour soft as springing flame, 
 Breathing out a perfume sweet. 
 Over her shoulders to her feet. 
 
14 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 Now like a bloom her face became, 
 Her arms and bosom rounded fair, 
 And even then was Ruan 'ware 
 Of blueness breaking the white air 
 And his own shadow trembling there; 
 And ere his tongue strove into speech 
 The keel was grating on a beach. 
 
 When mortals gaze on goddesses, 
 
 So high the hope of our dreaming is, 
 
 The wonder loses fear, the charm 
 
 Drinks up the wonder; Ruan leapt 
 
 Upon a shore in sunshine warm. 
 
 And forth with him the Lady stept ; 
 
 And each to the other lightly talked. 
 
 As 'twere their wont so, hand in hand. 
 
 To wander through a lovely land. 
 
 By solitary slopes they walked. 
 
 The mist was scattered, but still before them 
 
 Was blown in fleecy tuft and trail ; 
 
 And tremulous mid the melting cloud. 
 
 Upon the bushes low that bore them 
 
 Were crimson flowers that danced and bowed. 
 
 And green leaves fluttered their edges pale. 
 
 II 
 
 In a moment's space behold 
 
 The blue noon fell to evening gold. 
 
RUAN'S VOYAGE 15 
 
 Suddenly before them stood 
 A palace silent in a wood. 
 
 A dream of the eyes when music fills the ear 
 
 By night, and through the lulled brain ebbs and flows, 
 
 Might build and colour so unearthly clear 
 
 So fair and strange a house as rose 
 
 On Ruan's eyes ; such gleaming walls, 
 
 Delicate towers and airy porticoes. 
 
 Pillars of clear jade, whose pale capitals 
 
 Like tiger's claws were ivory, smooth and bright, 
 
 Upheld a lintel fair like fretted snows. 
 
 The carved work by its shadow glowed distinct; 
 
 No crevice but was brimmed with brooding light: 
 
 Upon the roof a bird of Atlas blinked, 
 
 Sun-drowned in splendour from the gorgeous West, 
 
 And preened his plumes with languid crest; 
 
 Open, beneath, a shadowy doorway stood ; 
 
 And fragrant smoke from fires of citron wood 
 
 Beckoned to happy senses, and the guest 
 
 Bade cross the threshold, enter, and be blest. 
 
 By now they paused within a spacious room. 
 Curtained about with glimmering tapestries. 
 That in the hush and richness of the gloom 
 Hung like a forest gemmed with fancied eyes. 
 Pale tendrils twined about the clustered pipe 
 Of reeds, and black trunks branched above remote 
 
i6 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 To heavy fruit that hovered over-ripe 
 
 Of fiery gold and dull vermilion stripe, 
 
 A waste of boughs for wild birds' pillaging: 
 
 And over dimness large leaves seemed to float, 
 
 That here were spotted like an adder's throat 
 
 And there were greener than a finch's wing. 
 
 It seemed to live, though all was whist, 
 
 And Ruan gazing seemed to hear 
 
 With heart-throb quickened into fear 
 
 The drooping briars writhe and twist. 
 
 The branches wave with stealthy stir 
 
 Of dappled leaves or dappled fur — 
 
 A sound as if the tangle hissed ! 
 
 He trembled as the room he scanned. 
 
 The Lady clasped him by the hand. 
 
 He looked into her face; she stole 
 
 In that moment all his soul. 
 
 " Fear not, fear not, all is thine, 
 
 Ruan, so thou wilt be mine! 
 
 I am Morgaine, whom mortals call Le Fay, 
 
 And I have brought thee to my house this day 
 
 Because I love thee and will give thee more 
 
 Than thou hast dreamed in all thy life before." 
 
 With that she kissed him on the mouth, and he 
 
 Was like warm wax before her witchery; 
 
 And as she spoke the arras changed to view 
 
 Tender and tremulous and clear in hue 
 
 As April woods of white anemone ; 
 
 And in his heart fear died to joy anew. 
 
RUAN'S VOYAGE 17 
 
 She led him on with willing feet. 
 
 Through many a perfumed hall they glided; 
 
 His brain grew giddy with that incense sweet, 
 
 But still the smile of Morgaine guided 
 
 Betwixt slim pillars, on a floor 
 
 Of brindled coromandel wood, 
 
 Where now 'twas scented dusk no more 
 
 But airy peace calmed all his blood, 
 
 For in the wall a window wide 
 
 Looked out on magic eventide. 
 
 Far, far beneath them a blue lake was cupped 
 
 Hollow amid the twilight of a vale, 
 
 And over wan mist floating frail 
 
 A rosy mountain soared abrupt. 
 
 Black pines and gold-green mosses there 
 
 On rocks whose distance none could tell 
 
 Were pictured in the soundless air 
 
 And rivulets that faintly fell 
 
 As in some gorge of Saianfu, 
 
 Where from her porcelain palace- tower. 
 
 Lone on a crag's mist-cradled throne, 
 
 A princess leans amid the dew 
 
 Of such a marvellous evening hour 
 
 O'er balustrade and precipice, 
 
 Her lute and woven silk laid by. 
 
 Dreaming with a sudden sigh 
 
 Of the world-enchanting kiss. 
 
 With such a sigh was Ruan's bosom heaving, 
 C 
 
i8 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 With such a sting of beauty past believing, 
 
 When soft beside him spoke Morgaine, " Come, tell: 
 
 O Ruan, doth my kingdom please thee well?" 
 
 " Princess, princess," he answered, " I am blest 
 
 Beyond all mortals : tell me thy behest 
 
 And I will be thy servant." But that word 
 
 She smiled away; his arms leapt round her, pressed 
 
 With mad joy, as she whispered " Be my lord ! " 
 
 III 
 
 Morgaine, that lurest the souls of men that are greedy 
 
 of joy. 
 What soughtest thou out, Morgaine, in the face of a 
 
 fisher-boy? 
 Were the souls of the great ones of earth so easy a 
 
 prey to thy snare, 
 Lightly bound to thy hand by a single shining hair. 
 That the simple heart of a youth, untempted, in hard 
 
 ways bred. 
 To thy siren hunger is sweeter than kings or captains 
 
 dread? 
 Thou sang'st him songs that lapped him in utter 
 
 forgetfulness 
 Of the green hills and the rocks and the waters of 
 
 Westerness, 
 Till Time, like a wandering light that is stayed on an 
 
 opal, shone 
 Kindled and many-coloured ; the charmed days moved 
 
 not on. 
 
RUAN'S VOYAGE 19 
 
 His thoughts were borne as idly as clouds on the 
 
 slow South, 
 Or a willow leaf that glides on a wandering summer 
 
 stream, 
 And the light that bathed his body, and breathed so 
 
 sweet to his mouth 
 Was such as mortals know but in splendid rents of 
 
 dream 
 Piercing the cloud of sleep from the dull day-world 
 
 beguiled. 
 Together they sailed the calm of evening waters isled 
 With knolls of gemmy grass, and thickets of nightin- 
 gales; 
 They gathered flowers, and listened, and moved with 
 
 drooping sails; 
 And anon they rose from a feast, from close-embowered 
 
 delights, 
 To hunt the timid gazelles on passionate moonlit nights, 
 Blue nights of milky stars, where fluttering petals 
 
 snowed 
 From windswept boughs and scented delicious dusk, 
 
 and rode 
 Home by shadowy glades upon soft invisible lawn 
 Hand in hand through the dews of a shy dove-coloured 
 
 dawn. 
 They drank of a fairy wine, till their hearts were weary 
 
 of earth, 
 And them, embraced, the mighty wings of Phoenix 
 
 bore 
 
20 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 Up through the light exulting to soar and still to soar, 
 And the world dropped down beneath them; they 
 
 clapped their hands in mirth 
 Mocking the baffled eagle: but how should mortal tell 
 What wonders Morgaine wove for Ruan in her spell 
 To charm thenights and days with hopes that never tire, 
 Morgaine of blissful body and eyes of far desire? 
 
 IV 
 
 Count the hours that bind and freeze. 
 
 That break the breast and shake the knees! 
 
 What need of Time's all-patient dial 
 
 To him that drinks of this deep phial? 
 
 These perfumed hours of white and red 
 
 Flowered and were never shed. 
 
 It might have been a morning's span 
 
 Or twice and thrice the years of man, 
 
 For Ruan was not Then nor Now ; 
 
 He was as young as his desire, as young 
 
 As on sweet lips an old song newly sung. 
 
 O idle thought to number how 
 
 The days onrushed, the morrows flushed. 
 
 Thicker than blossoms on an apple-bough. 
 
 But on a morn at early dawn awaking 
 
 He saw the cold light through the lattice breaking. 
 
 A spider there her web had made; 
 
 Softly in the air it swayed. 
 
RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 Memory in a drowsy muse 
 
 Lost and sought such filmy clues. 
 
 Till upon a sudden plain 
 
 In Ruan's vision, sharp like pain, 
 
 Pictured was his home again, 
 
 And the long nets, loosely hung 
 
 From the white wall, stirred and swung. 
 
 He rose and broke into a mournful cry, 
 
 Which Morgaine heard with half-shut eye 
 
 And caught him with both hands and strove 
 
 To turn him with soft words of love. 
 
 But he would not ; so sharp a pang 
 
 Of desolation in him sprang 
 
 For all the dearness long forgot 
 
 In his own kind's deserted lot; 
 
 A tear fell from his eyelids hot 
 
 Upon the marble floor below. 
 
 He wept; and in an instant, lo! 
 
 Beheld the floor transparent glow. 
 
 Yawning, a spectral region shone 
 
 Where cold abysses plunged betwixt 
 
 Sheer mountain column-peaks whereon 
 
 That very palace floor was fixt. 
 
 Ruan shuddered as he gazed. 
 
 For toward his eyes were eyes upraised 
 
 From human faces, forms that froze 
 
 Within the rock-walls as they rose, 
 
 A thousand forms, a prisoned host 
 
 Imbedded in the mountain frost. 
 
22 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 But swift a storm of wind and fire 
 Up those abysses roared and rushed; 
 The shapes were stirred ; a vain desire — 
 As they would struggle, nearer, higher, — 
 Their eyes awoke, their bodies flushed. 
 And then the blast as sudden passed. 
 The limbs of torment slowly sank 
 To ice-green languor, fleshless bone, 
 And starving ruggedness of stone ; 
 The life within them swooned and shrank 
 To dungeoned attitudes again, 
 Their half-closed upturned eyes alone 
 Were gazing in the gaze of pain. 
 
 With eyes of horror opened wide 
 
 " Save me, save me ! " Ruan cried. 
 
 But Morgaine in her arms hath wound him, 
 
 Her panting fierce embrace hath bound him. 
 
 Her eyes exulting change and glow 
 
 Like lights upon a shaken sword. 
 
 She pants as in unearthly throe, 
 
 Her arms cling tighter than a cord ; 
 
 How shall Ruan dare to brook 
 
 The demon challenge of her look? 
 
 " Listen, Ruan, canst thou hear 
 How the whole world cries in fear? 
 Lights not splendour in the air 
 To dance above the world's despair? 
 
RUAN^S VOYAGE 23 
 
 They toil in hunger, grief and night 
 For our desire, for our delight — 
 They the twisting roots, and we 
 The topmost red flower on the tree! " 
 
 But Ruan with both hands that pressed 
 
 Against the burning of her breast, 
 
 Trembled and groaned in that embrace, 
 
 And strove from that exultant face. 
 
 When soft she melted, sank before him, kneeled 
 
 And clung, beseeching him that would not yield. 
 
 " They are my flesh, my blood, and I 
 
 Must go to seek them, or I die." 
 
 When Morgaine heard that lamentable cry 
 
 She knew the heart of joy in him was dead. 
 
 Looked in his soul and saw her hour had fled. 
 
 " Go then," she wept, " but come again 
 
 To thy delight, to thy Morgaine. 
 
 Yet if thou go, this casket take with thee ; 
 
 Hid in thy breast, 'twill guide thee safe to me 
 
 Without a rudder o'er the wandering sea. 
 
 But O beware thou never open this, 
 
 Else art thou lost and all thy hope of bliss. 
 
 Farewell! " she kissed him. " Farewell," Ruan said, 
 
 And took the casket with averted head. 
 
 Nor turned him back, but swiftly passed the door 
 
 Of the charmed house, and came to the sea-shore. 
 
24 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 V 
 
 O what a calm as of old days come back 
 With their old wont and clear untroubled way- 
 Lifted the heart of Ruan, on the track 
 Of ocean steering for his native bay ! 
 Over blue waves the morning air sang sweet 
 Full on his sail ; he was all fire to greet 
 The hearth of home, his father's joyful face, 
 His mother's tears and tremulous embrace. 
 He sailed beneath the summer's early noon 
 With the warm favouring wind ; and strangely soon 
 Rose up the coast, till nearing on the swell 
 He saw the dark waves glitter as they fell 
 Against the cliff's worn bases, drained of foam. 
 Now he is past the headland. There is home ! 
 The boats drawn up, the sands, and the green mound 
 Beyond them ; peaceful, sunned, familiar ground, 
 It seemed he had not been three days away. 
 With a light heart he beached amid the spray 
 His boat, and moored it as of old, and sprang 
 Ashore; a young girl to a baby sang. 
 Sitting on fishing-nets spread forth to dry. 
 She looked up, and her song stopped, and her eye 
 Was filled with wonder; but impatiently 
 Ruan ran up the beach, where he might catch 
 The first glimpse of his father's cottage thatch. 
 He came, he looked ; and the heart in him failed. 
 The house was not. What lonely strangeness ailed 
 The world? He thrust his hand within his vest 
 
RUAN'S VOYAGE 2$ 
 
 And felt the casket cold upon his breast. 
 
 Helpless he gazed : but lo, there slowly came 
 
 An old man with a stick, coughing and lame, 
 
 Bowed by his years ; then towards him Ruan ran, 
 
 With a swift thought of pity, almost scorn, 
 
 In his young strength for such old age forlorn, 
 
 And cried upon the way, " Old man, old man, 
 
 Where is my father? Surely thou know'st me; 
 
 I am Ruan, Ruan! I am home from sea." 
 
 The old man lifted up his faint blue eye 
 
 And peered upon him slow and curiously 
 
 As on some strange thing from the sea upcast. 
 
 " Nay, Ruan's name I know not," came at last 
 
 The answer. Ruan cried, " Dwell'st thou not here? " 
 
 " Ay, all my life, three-score and fifteen year." 
 
 " And yet thou know'st not Ruan?" The old man 
 
 Puzzled his withered brow as he began 
 
 Seeking some far-sunk memory in his brain. 
 
 " Ay, so it is ; " he slowly spoke again, 
 
 "They told a tale of Ruan; ay, 'tis so. 
 
 How he was lost, but that was long ago, 
 
 Hundreds of years, I think; he sailed away. 
 
 And his old parents died of grief, they say." 
 
 He still spoke on ; but Ruan heard no more, 
 
 For he was wandering fast along the shore 
 
 In the lone sunshine; aimlessly he strayed, 
 
 Dazzled and indescribably afraid. 
 
 On a sudden flamed a thought 
 
 Through his body: straight he sought 
 
26 RUAN'S VOYAGE 
 
 Within his breast the casket hid, 
 
 Crying, " Morgaine, thou shalt tell, 
 
 Though the answer come from Hell! " 
 
 With trembling fingers he undid 
 
 The silken cord, the golden lid. 
 
 Lo, from the opened casket broke 
 
 A stealing skein of purple smoke, 
 
 A wandering faint cloud of perfume 
 
 That rippled up in filmy plume, 
 
 And lingered faltering like a prayer. 
 
 Then melted into sunlit air. 
 
 Three hundred years had melted there. 
 
 Three hundred years of faery bliss. 
 
 Perished sooner than a single kiss! 
 
 As Ruan stares upon the empty box. 
 
 His outstretched fingers stiffen stark, 
 
 His cheek is shrivelled, his eyes grow dark. 
 
 Either knee together knocks ; 
 
 Ere he can pray, ere he can groan, 
 
 Swift as grass in a furnace thrown. 
 
 Or a crumbled clod in a heedless hand, 
 
 He withers into whitened bone. 
 
 Where his breathing body stood, 
 
 Flushed with life and warm with blood 
 
 Is a heap of ashes, a drift of sand. 
 
 And the wind blowing, and the silent strand. 
 
LOVE'S PORTRAIT 
 
 Out of the day-glare, out of all uproar, 
 
 Hurrying in ways disquieted, bring me 
 
 To silence, and earth's ancient peace restore. 
 
 That with profounder vision I may see. 
 
 In dew-baptizing dimness let me lose 
 
 Tired thoughts; dispeople the world-haunted mind, 
 
 With burning of interior fire refined ; 
 
 Cleanse all my sense: then. Love, mine eyes unclose. 
 
 Let it be dawn, and such low light increase. 
 As when from darkness pure the hills emerge ; 
 And solemn foliage trembles through its peace 
 As with an ecstasy; and round the verge 
 Of solitary coppices cold flowers 
 Freshen upon their clustered stalks; and where 
 Wafts of wild odour sweeten the blue air. 
 Drenched mosses dimly sparkle on old towers. 
 
 So, for my spirit, let the light be slow 
 And tender as among those dawning trees. 
 That on this vision of my heart may grow 
 The beloved form by delicate degrees, 
 
 27 
 
28 LOVE'S PORTRAIT 
 
 The desired form that Earth was waiting for, 
 Her last completion and felicity, 
 Who through the dewy hush comes, and for me 
 Sings a new meaning into all Time's lore. 
 
 Just-dinted temples, cheek and brow and hair — 
 Ah, never curve that wind breathed over snow 
 Could match what the divine hand moulded there, 
 Or in her lips, where life's own colours glow, 
 Or in the throat, the sweet well of her speech ; 
 Yet all forgotten, when those eyelids raise 
 The beam of eyes that hold me in their gaze 
 Clear with a tenderness no words can reach. 
 
 Some silken shred, whose fair embroidery throbbed 
 Once on a queen's young breast; a mirror dimmed 
 That has held how much beauty, and all robbed ! 
 One bright tress from a head that poets hymned ; 
 A rent flag that warm blood was spent for: sighs. 
 Faith, love, have made these fragrant, and sweet pain 
 Quickens its pangs upon our pulse again, 
 Charmed at a touch out of old histories. 
 
 But thou, whence com'st thou, bringing in thy face 
 More than all these are charged with? Not faint myrrh 
 Of embalmed bliss, dead passion's written trace. 
 Half-faded ; but triumphant and astir 
 
LOVE'S PORTRAIT 29 
 
 Life tinges the cheek's change and the lips* red. 
 Thy deep compassions, thy long hopes and fears, 
 Thy joys, thine indignations, and thy tears, 
 To enrich these, what stormy hearts have bled! 
 
 For thine unknown sake, how has life's dear breath 
 Been cherished past despair : how, lifted fierce 
 In exultation, has love smiled at death. 
 For one hope hazarding the universe ! 
 What wisdom has been spelled from sorrow's book. 
 What anguish in the patient will immured. 
 What bliss made perfect, what delight abjured. 
 That in these eyes thine eyes at last might look ! 
 
 O mystery! out of ravin, strife, and wrong. 
 
 Thou comest, Time's last sweetness in the flower, 
 
 Life's hope and want, my never-ended song! 
 
 Futurity is folded in this hour 
 
 With all fruition; joy, and loss, and smart; 
 
 And death, and birth; the wooed, the feared, the 
 
 unknown ; 
 And there our lives, mid earth's vast undertone, 
 Are beatings of one deep and mighty heart. 
 
FOREST SILENCE 
 
 Where she reclines 
 In a rock's cup, 
 Smooth, tawny-mossed, 
 Under tall pines. 
 Her eyes look up. 
 Her gaze is lost. 
 
 Pine-plumes, sea-gray, 
 When air sings through 
 The rust-red stems. 
 Wave slowly, fray 
 The liquid blue 
 To flashing gems. 
 
 A lizard's haste 
 Rustles dead leaves; 
 A light cone drops; 
 Else this sweet waste 
 No sound receives 
 But stirred tree-tops. 
 30 
 
FOREST SILENCE 31 
 
 A thrill of air 
 From far slow draws 
 Its long caress, 
 Sighed out no- where ; 
 Then noon at pause 
 Drinks silentness. 
 
 But she ; what waft 
 Of perfume brought 
 Her musing stirs? 
 What pure keen draught 
 Of wine-like thought 
 Even now is hers? 
 
 Her eyes dream dreams ; 
 Coiled foot stirs not, 
 Nor idle hand. 
 Spell-drowsed she seems, 
 Hushed in some plot 
 Of faery land. 
 
 Yet soft, with such 
 Light lingerings felt 
 As when boughs part 
 Again to touch. 
 Spring, meet and melt 
 Within her heart 
 
32 FOREST SILENCE 
 
 Hope, wish, and prayer. 
 And memory warm 
 From far hours, all 
 Newly aware 
 Of sudden charm 
 And wistful call. 
 
 Out of lost years 
 Earth's mystery. 
 Strange with its pain, 
 Holy with fears. 
 Touches her, shy 
 As breeze, as rain. 
 
 And this rich hour 
 With feeling fills 
 Too full to hold 
 Its wealth — a flower 
 That trembling spills 
 Seed-spice of gold. 
 
CHATEAU GAILLARD 
 
 Shattered tower and desolated keep 
 Darken ; far below the river shines 
 Under cliffs that round the twilight sweep. 
 Rock-rough headlands on the sky's confines 
 Couch asleep. 
 
 Silence breathes; the air colours; dewy smell 
 Freshens keener from the grass ; a hush 
 Deepens on some distant evening bell. 
 Burning out of heaven the solemn flush 
 Spins a spell ; 
 
 Sharpens every shadowy edge of stone; 
 Notches gaps abrupt; drains pale the light; 
 Blackens gulfs of fosse, where mounds enthrone 
 What were towers. The ruin to soft night 
 Looms alone. 
 
 Lo, it lives ! Now like a terrible thought 
 Seems it. A man's strength, how frail beside 
 Yonder strength ! Could hands of flesh have wrought 
 Such a thing? Mere ashes they that cried. 
 They that fought, 
 
 D 
 
34 CHATEAU GAILLARD 
 
 Where the little poppy spots with red 
 Crumbling bastions ; dust of centuries, all 
 Those strong feet that over heaps of dead 
 Leapt, and hands that furious clutched the wall, 
 Breasts that bled. 
 
 Yet a presence, yet a power is here. 
 In the darkening silence slowly felt. 
 Silence that is naked and is near. 
 Into cloud those battle-rages melt; 
 But a fear 
 
 Strikes from where these pressing stones conspire 
 Toward a purpose past the strength of each, 
 As a man's deeds knit by one desire. 
 As a great verse out of casual speech 
 Forged in fire. 
 
 Stones no longer, having filled their place! 
 Nay, though tumbled, torn and cast aside. 
 Touched with glory Time cannot deface : 
 In such wreck, Man, scarred and glorified, 
 Builds his race. 
 
 Lion- Heart, thou buildedst not in vain, 
 Lion-Heart, that in our own blood still 
 Beatest; rent but royal over Seine 
 This the embattled proud child of thy will 
 Shall remain! 
 
O Love of my Love, O blue, 
 
 Blue sky that over me bends! 
 
 The height and the light are you, 
 
 And I the lark that ascends, 
 
 Trembling ascends and soars, 
 
 A heart that pants, a throat 
 
 That throbs, a song that pours 
 
 The heart out as it sings. 
 
 Lo, the dumb world falls remote. 
 
 But higher, higher, the golden height I 
 
 Oh, I famt upon my wings! 
 
 Lift me, Love, beyond their flight. 
 
 Lift me, lose me in the light. 
 
 35 
 
THE CLUE 
 
 Life from sunned peak, witched wood, and flowery dell 
 A hundred ways the eager spirit wooes, 
 To roam, to dream, to conquer, to rebel; 
 Yet in its ear a voice cries ever, Choose! 
 
 So many ways, yet only one shall find ; 
 So many joys, yet only one shall bless; 
 So many creeds, yet to each pilgrim mind 
 One road to the divine forgetfulness. 
 
 Tongues talk of truth ; but truth is only found 
 Where the heart runs to be poured utterly. 
 Like streams whose home is in their motion, bound 
 To follow one faith and in that be free. 
 
 O Love, since I have found one truth so true, 
 Let me lose all, to lose my loss in you. 
 
 36 
 
VIOLETS 
 
 Violets, in what pleasant earth you grew 
 I know not, nor what heavenly moisture stole 
 To tincture in your petals such dim blue 
 As seems a pure June midnight's scented soul: 
 
 But on her bosom when you breathed so sweet, 
 You were as lovely words to thoughts that rose 
 So deep in us, no language could complete 
 Their sense, nor half their tenderness unclose. 
 
 O in such thoughts Love ever freshly flowers. 
 They neither ask nor answer, only give 
 Their charm up to the kind and unkind hours, 
 Born of that beauty in whose light we live, 
 
 Whose grace is past all probing of our wit 
 And sweetens even the hand that bruises it. 
 
 37 
 
MOTHER AND CHILD 
 
 By old blanched fibres of gaunt ivy bound, 
 
 The hollow crag towers under noon's blue height. 
 
 Ribbed ledges, lizard-haunted crannies white, 
 
 Cushioned with stone-crop and with moss embrowned, 
 
 Cool that clear shadow from the outer glare 
 
 Above a grassy mound, 
 
 Where she that sits, muses with lips apart 
 
 And eyes dream-filled beneath the abundant hair 
 
 And lets the thoughts flower idly from her heart 
 
 Thoughts of a mother! For her child amid 
 Lights blossoms that a brook's cold ripple fledge, 
 Wind-shaken at the shadow's glowing edge, 
 Plays with a child's intentness ; now half-hid, 
 And now those gay curls caught in frolic sun 
 Toss to the breeze unbid 
 
 And through the thoughts of her who watches shine 
 With quiverings of felicity that run 
 Through all her being, as through water wine. 
 
 Her thoughts flow out to the stream's endless tune. 
 Ah, what full sea could all that hope contain? 
 
 38 
 
MOTHER AND CHILD 39 
 
 Then apprehensions vivid like a pain 
 Wing after, swift as through this airy noon 
 The swallow skims and flashes past recall 
 But O returns how soon, 
 Back in a heart's beat! So her fears have sped 
 Far as the last loss — homing out of all 
 The deep horizon to that golden head. 
 
 The Child, amid the blossom, nothing recks. 
 
 His eyes a flame-winged dragon-fly pursue 
 
 Over stirred heads of mint and borage blue 
 
 In warm and humming air; on slender necks 
 
 Marsh-flowers peep toward him over juicy rush, 
 
 And the wild parsley flecks 
 
 With powdery pale bloom stalks his bare feet bruise, 
 
 And hot herb-odours mingle where they crush 
 
 Deep in the green growth and the matted ooze. 
 
 How smoothly clear along his ankle slips 
 
 The water, gliding to the pebbled cool! 
 
 He laughs with those young ripples of the pool. 
 
 Then the wind lifts a long spray's leafy tips 
 
 And dashes him with drops of twinkling fire 
 
 As in the stream it dips, 
 
 Where over shadows bright with wavering mesh 
 
 Bramble and thorn and apple-scented brier 
 
 Their roots and low leaves thirstily refresh. 
 
40 MOTHER AND CHILD 
 
 His mother calls. Now over thymy sod 
 
 The boy comes, yet he lingers ; the flowers keep 
 
 His feet among them, clustering fair and deep. 
 
 Red crane's-bill shakes its seed ; milk-campions nod, 
 
 By the rough sorrel little pansies hide ; 
 
 Slim spikes of golden-rod 
 
 Above the honeyed purple clover flame; 
 
 And, where the sheltered dew has scarcely dried. 
 
 Cling worts, close-leaved, each with its own wild name. 
 
 What secret purpose infinitely wrought, 
 
 Each in its lovely kind and character. 
 
 These breathing creatures in the light astir, 
 
 Articulating new an endless thought 
 
 That still with some last difference must refine 
 
 The likeness it had sought? 
 
 Some bloom to mateless glory will unfold, 
 
 A grace undreamed some airy tendril twine. 
 
 Some leaf be veined with unimagined gold. 
 
 Thee too. Child, with life budding in thy face 
 
 And quickening thy sweet senses, O thee too. 
 
 For whom the old earth maketh herself all new, 
 
 Each hour compels with unreturning pace 
 
 From the vague twilight being that keeps thee kin 
 
 To all the unconscious race. 
 
 Compels thee onward ; for thy spirit apart 
 
 The habitation is prepared within ; 
 
 The separate mind, the solitary heart. 
 
MOTHER AND CHILD 41 
 
 Is it a prison the slow days shall build, 
 
 When, disentwining from the worid around. 
 
 Thou shalt at last gaze out of eyes unbound 
 
 On alien earth, with other purpose filled, — 
 
 Thou with the burden of identity. 
 
 Thou separately willed, 
 
 And feel at last the difference thine own 
 
 Mid thy companions, saying " This is I, 
 
 I, and none other in the world's mind alone." 
 
 Even now thine eyes are lifted from the flowers, 
 And the sky fills them : boundless and all pure. 
 Regions afar to thrilling silence lure. 
 Ah, how to charm the fret of future hours 
 Shall to thy mind come, as from wells of light 
 And time-forgetting powers, 
 Words large and blue and liquid as the sky ; 
 The absolution of the infinite. 
 And sea-like murmur of eternity! 
 
 Shalt thou not long then, when the dark hours wring 
 
 Thy heart with pangs of mortal loss and doom, 
 
 That old unsevered being to resume 
 
 With its kind ignorance, relinquishing 
 
 This self that is so exquisitely made 
 
 For sorrow; time's dull sting 
 
 To lose, and the sharp anguish, and the wrong; 
 
 Into life's universal glow to fade. 
 
 And all thy weakness in that whole make strong? 
 
42 MOTHER AND CHILD 
 
 Yet O thou heart so surely doomed to bleed, 
 Thou out of boundless and unshaped desire 
 Compacted essence single and entire, 
 Rejoice! In thee Earth doth herself exceed. 
 O tarrier among flowers, of thee the unplumbed 
 Infinities have need; 
 
 Or how shall all that dumbness speak, and how 
 Those wandering blind energies be summed 
 As in a star? Rejoice that thou art thou! 
 
 Mighty the powers that desolate and kill, 
 Armies of waste and winter: and alone 
 Thou comest against them in the might of one 
 World-challenging and world-accusing will. 
 Yet mightier thou that canst thy might refrain, 
 The world's want to fulfil, 
 Thy soul disprison from time's mortal hour. 
 To pardon and pity changing that old pain. 
 And in thy heart the eternal Love let flower. 
 
 All faith inhabits in thy Mother's eyes. 
 
 Yet she already hath all thy pangs foreknown 
 
 And in thy separation felt her own. 
 
 Far from her feet follow thy destinies! 
 
 There is no step she hath not trod before. 
 
 Her loss she glorifies 
 
 To spend on thee her all ; and to defend 
 
 The divine hope which in her womb she bore, 
 
 Those arms of love wide as the earth extend. 
 
LITTLE HANDS 
 
 Soft little hands that stray and clutch, 
 
 Like fern-fronds curl and uncurl bold, 
 
 While baby faces lie in such 
 
 Close sleep as flowers at night that fold, 
 
 What is it you would clasp and hold, 
 
 Wandering outstretched with wilful touch? 
 
 O fingers small of shell-tipped rose, 
 
 How should you know you hold so much? 
 
 Two full hearts beating you enclose, 
 
 Hopes, fears, prayers, longings, joys and woes — 
 
 All yours to hold, O little hands ! 
 
 More, more than wisdom understands 
 
 And love, love only knows. 
 
 43 
 
LULLABY 
 
 Sleep, sleep on Mother's breast, 
 Child, my child ! 
 
 Close within my arms be pressed. 
 O the world is vast and wild. 
 Filled with hurt and war and cries ! 
 Under my eyes close your eyes, 
 On my breast rest and nest. 
 
 Sleep come soft as water flows, 
 
 Eyes close bind ! 
 
 Gentle Sleep that never grows 
 
 Old, indifferent, or unkind. 
 
 O but Sleep can never hold you 
 
 As my arms, my darling, fold you, 
 
 Fold you close, fold you close. 
 
 Sleep can take you far away. 
 
 Little heart! 
 
 O but in my heart you stay. 
 
 From my heart you cannot part. 
 
 Though the world you wandered. Sweet, 
 
 From my heart those little feet 
 
 Never stray, night or day. 
 
 44 
 
A DAY that is boundless as youth 
 
 And gay with delight to be born, 
 
 Where the waves flash and glide over sands 
 
 In their pure image rippled and worn ; 
 
 Where laughter is young on the air 
 
 As the race of young feet patters light: 
 
 Linked shadows run dancing before 
 
 In the midst of the infinite light! 
 
 On a violet horizon asleep 
 
 One milky sail glimmers afar; 
 
 And our spirits are free of the world 
 
 With nothing to bind or to bar; 
 
 With no thought but the thoughts of a child ;- 
 
 O golden the day and the hour! 
 
 The strong sea is charmed from his rage, 
 
 And the waste is more fair than a flower. 
 
 45 
 
A WINTER SONG 
 
 Now December darkens 
 
 Over Autumn dead. 
 
 The frozen earth now hearkens 
 
 For the last leaf to be shed. 
 
 Above gray grass the branches bare 
 
 Melt, faint ghosts, in misty air, 
 
 Like despair. 
 
 O the nearer, deeper 
 
 In my heart, remembering 
 
 My Love's kiss, and how her eyes 
 
 Blessed me like enchanted skies. 
 
 Is the joy that with the spring 
 
 Shall waken Earth the sleeper. 
 
 46 
 
A SPRING SONG 
 
 Not yet a bough to bud may dare 
 
 On the naked tree. 
 
 Yet happy leaves in the bough prepare ; 
 
 And could I see 
 
 Far as a soaring bird, I know 
 
 Where young in sheen 
 
 The willow, swaying soft and slow, 
 
 Laughs gold and green. 
 
 O in our winter's heart to build 
 
 A tower of song ! 
 
 My Love should enter when she willed 
 
 That tower strong, 
 
 And climb, and see beyond the bare 
 
 Dark branches' dearth 
 
 Spring, shaking out her golden hair, 
 
 Smile up the earth. 
 
 47 
 
BAB-LOCK-HYTHE 
 
 In the time of wild roses 
 As up Thames we travelled 
 Where 'mid water-weeds ravelled 
 The lily uncloses, 
 
 To his old shores the river 
 
 A new song was singing, 
 
 And young shoots were springing 
 
 On old roots for ever. 
 
 Dog-daisies were dancing, 
 And flags flamed in cluster, 
 On the dark stream a lustre 
 Now blurred and now glancing. 
 
 A tall reed down-weighing, 
 The sedge-warbler fluttered ; 
 One sweet note he uttered. 
 Then left it soft-swaying. 
 
 By the bank's sandy hollow 
 My dipt oars went beating, 
 And past our bows fleeting 
 Blue-backed shone the swallow. 
 48 
 
BAB-LOCK-HYTHE 49 
 
 High woods, heron-haunted, 
 Rose, changed, as we rounded 
 Old hills greenly mounded, 
 To meadows enchanted. 
 
 A dream ever moulded 
 Afresh for our wonder, 
 Still opening asunder 
 For the stream many-folded ; 
 
 Till sunset was rimming 
 The West with pale flushes ; 
 Behind the black rushes 
 The last light was dimming; 
 
 And the lonely stream, hiding 
 Shy birds, grew more lonely, 
 And with us was only 
 The noise of our gliding. 
 
 In cloud of gray weather 
 The evening o'erdarkened. 
 In the stillness we hearkened ; 
 Our hearts sang together. 
 
A PICTURE SEEN IN A DREAM 
 
 I SAW the Goddess of the Evening pause 
 
 Between two mountain pillars. Tall as they 
 
 Appeared her stature, and her outstretched hands 
 
 Laid on those luminous cold summits, hung 
 
 Touching, and lingered. Earth was at her feet. 
 
 Her head inclined : then the slow weight of hair, 
 
 In distant hue like a waved pine-forest 
 
 Upon a mountain, down one shoulder fell. 
 
 She gazed, and there were stars within her eyes ; 
 
 Not like those lights in heaven which know not what 
 
 They shine upon ; but like far human hopes, 
 
 That rise beyond the end of thwarting day 
 
 In deep hearts, wronged with waste and toil, they rose; 
 
 And while beneath her from the darkening world 
 
 A vapour and a murmur silently 
 
 Floated, there came into those gazing eyes, 
 
 What should have been, were she a mortal, tears. 
 
 SO 
 
Between the mountains and the plain 
 We leaned upon a rampart old ; 
 Beneath, branch-blossoms trembled white; 
 Far-off, a dusky fringe of rain 
 Brushed low along a sky of gold, 
 Where earth spread lost in endless light. 
 
 The mountains in their glory rose. 
 Peak thronging peak ; cloud shadows mapped 
 The purpling brown with milky blue ; 
 Removed, austere, shone rarer snows 
 Above dark ridges vapour-wrapped, — 
 Afar shone, Love, for me and you. 
 
 Sky-seeking mountains, boundless plain! 
 Old walls, and April-blossomed trees! 
 Of ever-young, world-ancient power. 
 The height, the space, was your refrain. 
 In us, us too, eternities 
 Made of that moment a white flower. 
 
 51 
 
RICORDI 
 
 Of a tower, of a tower, white 
 In the warm Italian night, 
 Of a tower that shines and springs 
 I dream, and of our delight. 
 
 Of doves, of a hundred wings 
 Sweeping in sound that sings 
 Past our faces, and wide 
 Returning in tremulous rings: 
 
 Of a window on Arno side, 
 Sun-warm when the rain has dried 
 On the roofs, and from far below 
 The clear street-cries are cried: 
 
 Of a certain court we know, 
 And love's and sorrow's throe 
 In marbles of mighty limb. 
 And the beat of our hearts aglow : 
 
 Of water whispering dim 
 To a porphyry basin's rim ; 
 Of flowers on a windy wall 
 Richly tossing, I dream. 
 
 52 
 
RICORDI 53 
 
 And of white towns nestling small 
 Upon Apennine, with a tall 
 Tower in the sunset air 
 Sounding soft vesper-call : 
 
 And of golden morning bare 
 On Lucca roofs, and fair 
 Blue hills, and scent that shook 
 From blossoming chestnuts, where 
 
 Red ramparts overlook 
 Hot meadow and leafy nook. 
 Where girls with laughing cries 
 Beat clothes in a glittering brook: 
 
 And of magic-builded skies 
 Upon still lagoons; and wise 
 Padua's pillared street 
 In the charm of a day that dies : 
 
 Of olive-shade in the heat. 
 And a lone, cool, rocky seat 
 On an island beach, and bright 
 Fresh ripples about our feet: 
 
 Of mountains in vast moon-light. 
 Of rivers' rushing flight, 
 Of gardens of green retreat 
 I dream, and of our delight. 
 
VENICE 
 
 White clouds that rose clouds chase 
 Till the sky laughs round, blue and bare; 
 Sunbeams that quivering waves out-race 
 To sparkle kisses on a marble stair; 
 Indolent water that images 
 Slender-pillared palaces, 
 Or glides in shadow and sun, where over 
 Walls that leaning crumble red 
 Milky blossom and fresh leaf hover, 
 Or glitters in endless morning spread, 
 Far and faint for dazzling miles 
 To lonely towers and cypress isles, 
 Where phantom mountains hang on high 
 Along the mist of northern sky: 
 O Love, what idle tale is told 
 That these are glories famed and old? 
 For to-day I know it is all in you. 
 This vision bathed in magic blue. 
 My sea that girdles me round and round 
 With winding arms in deeps profound. 
 And bears our thoughts like golden sails 
 To be lost where the far verge gleams and pales, 
 54 
 
VENICE 55 
 
 My sky that over the mountains brings 
 The stars, and gives us wondrous wings, 
 My dawn that pierces the secret night 
 To the central heart of burning light 
 And thousand-coloured flames and flowers 
 In radiant palaces, domes, and towers! 
 A marvel born of sky and sea, 
 'Tis all in you, that have given it me. 
 
DAWN BY THE SEA 
 
 Beautiful, cold, freshness of light reveals 
 The black masts, mirrored with their shadowy spars, 
 The hill-gloom and the sleeping wharf, and steals 
 Up magical faint heights of fading stars. 
 
 I hear the waves, on the long shingle thrown. 
 Slowly draw backward, plunge, and never cease. 
 Against that sea-sound the earth-stillness lone 
 Builds vaster in the early light's increase. 
 
 O falling blind waves, in my heart you break ; 
 Outcast and far from my own self I seem. 
 With alien sense in a strange air awake, 
 The body and projection of a dream. 
 
 Turn back, pale Dawn, or bring that light to me . 
 Which yesterday was lost beyond the sea. 
 
 56 
 
WANDERERS 
 
 O THERE are wanderers over wave and strand 
 Invisible and secret, everywhere 
 Moving through light and night from land to land, 
 Swifter than bird or cloud upon the air. 
 
 Wild Longings from divided bosoms rent 
 
 Rush home, and Sighs crushed from the pain of years. 
 
 Far o'er their quarry hover Hates intent; 
 
 Wing to and fro world-wandering great Fears. 
 
 Pities like dew. Thoughts on their lonely road 
 Glide, and dark forms of spiritual Desire, 
 Yea, all that from its house of flesh the goad 
 Of terrible Love drives out in mist and fire. 
 
 Ah, souls of men and women, where is home. 
 That in a want, a prayer, a cry, you roam? 
 
 57 
 
THE CRUSADER 
 
 Effigy mailed and mighty beneath thy mail 
 That liest asleep with hand upon carved sword-hilt 
 As ready to waken and strong to stand and hail 
 Death, where hosts are shaken and hot life spilt; 
 Here in the pillared peace thy fathers built 
 On English ground, amid guardian trees, though rent 
 This eve with gusts that yellowing boughs dishevel 
 And over this chantry roof make shuddering revel — 
 With lips of stone thou smilest; art thou content? 
 
 Still burns thy soul for battle as then, when first, 
 Tost upon shipboard, far thine eyes descried 
 The hills of the land of longing? Still dost thirst 
 To leap on the Paynim armies and break their pride 
 For God smote in thee, God was upon thy side ? 
 Still flame the spears through dust and blood and roar? 
 Still ridest slaying, filled with holy rages. 
 Glorying even now to hear through Time's lost ages 
 Thy deeds yet thundering like sea-surf on shore? 
 
 Or dost thou rather, a soul made great and mild, 
 Behold it all as a clashing of swords by night 
 
 58 
 
THE CRUSADER 59 
 
 Warring to save but an empty grave exiled, — 
 
 Not there, not thus, to reach the abiding Light. 
 
 The City of God shines always fair and white, 
 
 By alien hosts impossible to be won ; 
 
 For how should the pure be pure if these could soil it, 
 
 Or the holy holy, and ravage of this world spoil it? 
 
 A thousand storms pass from us, but not the sun. 
 
 Thou smilest mute : but I in the gloom that hearken 
 To loud wild gusts that, rioting blindly, tear 
 Soft leaves and scatter them over fields that darken, 
 I feel in my heart the wound of Earth's despair. 
 So torn from youth is trampled the innocent prayer; 
 So loveliest things find soonest enemies ; so 
 Desire that kindled the shaping mind to fashion 
 Our hope afresh, pours infinite out its passion, 
 And the world it has striven for breaks it with blow 
 on blow. 
 
 The fool, in his multitude mighty, exults to maim 
 Greatness ; heroes under the world's slow wheel 
 Fall ; the timorous how they seek to tame 
 Tongues that fear not, hearts that burn and feel! 
 Slaves conspire to enslave ; and, last appeal. 
 The deaf have power, the blind authority; yea. 
 They blind the seer, lest they too see his vision, 
 And all their works be turned to a God's derision ; 
 Beholding this, who would cry not, Up and slay ! 
 
6o THE CRUSADER 
 
 O yet my faith is fixt, that the best is chosen, 
 And truth by joy is kissed as certain good, 
 And love, even love, though a million hearts be frozen, 
 Love, weak, and shamed, and tortured, is understood. 
 Yea, powers are with us when we are most withstood. 
 Not vainly the soul in beauty and hope confides ; 
 And if it were not so, then had thought no haven. 
 Nor the brave heart wisdom nor warrant above the 
 
 craven : 
 Mid all these woes the City of God abides. 
 
 But O to win there, far how far it seems ! 
 
 And often, as thou, O pilgrim knight, I long 
 
 For a land remote, and to be where perfect dreams 
 
 Of the soul are acts as natural as a song 
 
 In a singer's mouth, and joy need fear no wrong. 
 
 And, tossing upon my restless thoughts, I vow 
 
 My heart away from a world that would undo me. 
 
 Then lo, in a hush some voice divine thrills through 
 
 me, 
 " O heart of little faith, seek here, seek now! " 
 
 Yes, here and now! But how to attain, when fierce 
 In power and pain Time and the World oppose? 
 With what shall the soul be weaponed, her way to 
 
 pierce 
 To her one desire through many embattled foes? 
 Must all in a waste of strife and of hatred close? 
 
THE CRUSADER 6i 
 
 Shall love unfriended hide, and longing droop, 
 And all our strength be poured in a conflict sterile, 
 For the world's hard conquest youth's dear hope 
 
 imperil, 
 And the soul to an alien use ignobly stoop? 
 
 Thou knowest, Crusader; O thy smile knows all. 
 Love takes no sword to battle, for Love is flame, 
 Itself a sword, upon whose edge falsehoods fall ; 
 A peace that troubles, a joy that puts to shame. 
 Though the soul be at war for ever, she burns to an 
 
 aim, 
 The world has none! We are wronged, but endure; 
 
 we bleed, 
 But conquer; hatred is idle as vain compliance: 
 We know not Time, who have made the great affiance. 
 To die for that we live for is life indeed. 
 
SOLITUDE 
 
 The stag that lifted up his kingly head 
 Upon the silent mountains, and from far 
 Beneath him heard the confident harsh cry 
 Of men invading his old solitudes, 
 Then bounding over the rough slopes has climbed 
 By dancing brooks remoter ranges, thick 
 With forests moaning in the cloudy winds 
 Of desolate November, nor has stayed 
 Till on the utmost craggy ledge, among 
 Wet boughs, with antlers dripping from the mist 
 And with sweat-darkened quivering coat he snuffs 
 Wide-nostrilled the wild air, where motionless 
 He stands at last; what shudder as of joy 
 Deeply to breathe that native loneliness 
 Possesses him ! From reddened oaks around 
 Lost leaves are torn innumerably and whirled. 
 Fast as from hearts of men their fearful hopes, 
 Into the drizzling gulf; he hears beyond 
 From cliffs that dimly tower in abrupt 
 Strange precipices, the world-ancient roar 
 Of headlong torrents : now the vapour rolls 
 Blank over all, now rending it a gust 
 
 62 
 
SOLITUDE 63 
 
 Reveals by golden glimpses the pale stream 
 Poured in a trembling pillar, at whose foot 
 The snowy seethe shoots forward and recoils 
 For one tumultuous moment, then again 
 Arches into one pure unfretted wave 
 And sends a voice in splendour down the gorge. 
 
Blue noon shines o'er the sea; 
 
 Waves break starry on the sand ; 
 
 Lights and sounds and scents come free 
 
 On the radiant air of the land. 
 
 I am filled with the melody of waves 
 
 That take my heart onward in tune; 
 
 My heart follows yearning after, and craves 
 
 No other delight nor boon. 
 
 They enfold the earth in desire 
 
 With a closer and closer kiss; 
 
 From life into life they expire, 
 
 In dying their birth and their bliss. 
 
 I am melted in them, I am filled 
 
 With the passion in peace they have found. 
 
 Even so would my spirit in peace be thrilled 
 
 So be lost in a love without bound. 
 
 Peace is no tame dove 
 
 To be caught and caged in the breast. 
 
 No, nor untamable Love 
 
 In a moment lightly possest. 
 
 Peace is wide and wild. 
 
 And Love without master as the sea ; 
 
 He is soft in his ways as a little child, 
 
 Yet is mightier far than we. 
 
 64 
 
O MY peace, O well 
 
 So deep no thought could sound it, 
 
 Whence arose thy spell 
 
 When in my heart I found it? 
 
 Like a coral isle 
 That long silent grew 
 From deepest deeps, the while 
 Slept or stormed the blue, 
 
 Emerging to enfold 
 
 Peace answering the skies. 
 
 And ringed with rock, where rolled 
 
 All day the white surge cries, 
 
 Till from isles unknown 
 Far on spicy air 
 Seeds in secret blown 
 Sprang to beauty there. 
 
 O my love, my sky, 
 
 That with soft breath broughtest 
 
 Bloom that cannot die. 
 
 Of my life thou wroughtest 
 
66 O MY PEACE 
 
 Such an isle that rings 
 A peace within so dear, 
 Howe'er the strong world flings, 
 Without, his surges drear. 
 
 To my heart, whose core 
 Thy love in joy entrances, 
 Like music the world's baffled roar 
 Only this peace enhances. 
 
FLOWER AND VOICE 
 
 Tremulous out of that long darkness, how- 
 Wast thou, O blossom, made 
 Upon the wintry bough? 
 What drew thee to appear, 
 Like a thought in the mind. 
 Ignorant, unafraid. 
 And perfect? — Yet the wind 
 Blew on thee how sharp ! how drear 
 The drops fell from the sudden-clouded spring! 
 
 Those delicate rare petals, all storm-thrilled, 
 
 Shone into recollection, when my ear 
 
 From a half-opened door was filled 
 
 With a voice singing ; floating up to sing 
 
 A song, long ago from a heart's darkness born 
 
 And upon young lips born again; 
 
 A voice, flowering clear 
 
 In beauty stolen from the world of pain. 
 
 Ah, not to-night of beauty I thought, 
 Yet beautiful beyond all hope's desire, 
 O wonderful, more wonderful to me 
 Than any miracle of beauty wrought 
 67 
 
68 FLOWER AND VOICE 
 
 Was my Love's voice, saying beside the fire, 
 Where she leaned by my knee, 
 Dear, broken words ; words of no art. 
 And yet in them was all my want, I found ; 
 Life has no more to give than that sweet sound 
 Breaking and melting deep in my heart's heart. 
 
THE DARK GARDEN 
 
 When your head leans back slowly, and gazing eyes 
 Muse earnest upon mine and starry swim 
 With depths unfathomed that still well and rise, 
 And the words fail, and sight with love grows dim. 
 
 Whence comes that almost sadness, almost wound 
 Of joy, whose thoughts sink like the wearied flight 
 Of birds on seas, lost in love's deeps profound, 
 Inscrutable as odours blown through night? 
 
 We know not: and we know not whence love rose, 
 
 Pouring its beauty over us, as the moon 
 
 On this dim garden rises, and none knows 
 
 Where she was wandering, those blind nights of June» 
 
 Hush, hush, the mystery of life is here! 
 Our sacred joy kisses our sacred fear. 
 
 69 
 
PARTING AND MEETING 
 
 When we are parted, the world ails. 
 Life wants, the pulse of it falls slack ; 
 The wind stings, and the clouds roll black ; 
 Wishes fly far as absent sails; 
 And in the mind old mournful tales 
 Murmur, and toss an echo back. 
 In all things fair is found some lack. 
 Light cares grow heavy, and pleasure stales. 
 
 But when from far in the thronged street 
 
 Our eyes each other leap to find, 
 
 O when at last our arms enwind, 
 
 And on our lips our longings meet, 
 
 The world glows new with each heart-beat. 
 
 Love is come home, Life is enshrined. 
 
 70 
 
Deep in these thoughts, more tender than a sky 
 Whose light ebbs far as in futurity, 
 Deep, deeper yet my blessed spirit steep, 
 Singing of you still ; you and only you 
 Gave me to breathe and touch and taste, all true, 
 Love from the utmost height and deepest deep 
 In my own heart, as all that summer knows 
 Of glory and perfume hides in one shut rose. 
 
 You and you only gave me, Dearest, this. 
 
 A pressure of the hand, a silent kiss. 
 
 And all is well ; the hurt, the pain-pricks healed ; 
 
 And rapt and hushed, as from some green recess 
 
 Into a golden solitariness, 
 
 All ours, we look ; and suddenly revealed 
 
 Is all that we in our desire might be. 
 
 Winged and immortal, fretting to be free. 
 
 Then in that large, appeasing air we grow 
 
 Near to Love's greatness, and our hearts outflow. 
 
 We are as those who traffic with the sea; 
 
 Washed from our liberated spirits is all 
 
 That the feared world made stagnant, pent or small, 
 
 For love has touched us with his majesty: 
 
 We grow beyond the bounds of time and pain. 
 
 Then in one heart-beat wondering meet again. 
 
 n 
 
DAY'S END 
 
 When I am weary, thronged with the cares of the 
 
 vain day 
 That tease as harsh winds tease the unresting autumn 
 
 boughs, 
 I still my mind at evening and put all else away 
 But the image of my Love, where all my hopes I 
 
 house. 
 
 The thoughts of her fall gently as the gentleness of 
 
 snow 
 That after storm makes smoothness in the ways that 
 
 are rough ; 
 White with a hush of beauty over my heart they grow 
 To the peace of which my heart can never hold 
 
 enough. 
 
 72 
 
In misty blue the lark is heard 
 Above the silent homes of men ; 
 The bright-eyed thrush, the little wren, 
 The yellow-billed sweet-voiced blackbird 
 Mid sallow blossoms blond as curd 
 Or silver oak boughs, carolling 
 With happy throat from tree to tree. 
 Sing into light this morn of spring 
 That sang my dear love home to me. 
 
 Be starry, buds of clustered white, 
 Around the dark waves of her hair ! 
 The young fresh glory you prepare 
 Is like my ever-fresh delight 
 When she comes shining on my sight 
 With meeting eyes, with such a cheek 
 As colours fair like flushing tips 
 Of shoots, and music ere she speak 
 Lies in the wonder of her lips. 
 
 Airs of the morning, breathe about 
 Keen faint scents of the wild wood side 
 From thickets where primroses hide 
 Mid the brown leaves of winters rout. 
 73 
 
74 IN MISTY BLUE 
 
 Chestnut and willow, beacon out 
 For joy of her, from far and nigh, 
 Your English green on English hills : 
 Above her head, song-quivering sky, 
 And at her feet, the daffodils. 
 
 Because she breathed, the world was more, 
 
 And breath a finer soul to use, 
 
 And life held lovelier hopes to choose: 
 
 But O to-day my heart brims o'er. 
 
 Earth glows as from a kindled core. 
 
 Like shadows of diviner things 
 
 Are hill and cloud and flower and tree — 
 
 A splendour that is hers and spring's, — 
 
 The day my love came home to me. 
 
Hide me in your heart, Love, 
 None but we can know 
 How with every heart-beat 
 Love could grow and grow 
 
 Till the seed that branched abroad, 
 How, we could not guess, 
 Holds us in the shadow 
 Of its boughs that bless ; 
 
 And the stars and mountains, 
 Earth and chanting sea 
 Seem a mighty music 
 Sung to you and me ; 
 
 Time-forgotten meaning. 
 Poured for us apart. 
 Murmured out of all the world 
 To our secret heart. 
 
 Hide within my heart. Love. 
 Never may I know 
 
 My heart's beat from your heart's beat, 
 No, nor throe from throe! 
 
 75 
 
THE CRUCIBLE 
 
 Because thou earnest, Love, to break 
 The strong mould of this world in two, 
 And of the senseless fragments take 
 And in thy mighty music make 
 A world more wondrous and more true, 
 Now my soul hath taken wings. 
 Newly bathed in light intense, 
 And purging off the film of sense. 
 Of its native glory sings. 
 And that inward vision, turning 
 Pomps of earth to vapour brief, 
 Sees as in a furnace burning 
 Time, a swiftly shrivelled leaf: 
 Sees the fortressed city fall 
 To a mound of nameless wall, 
 Shrining temple, columned porch 
 Life-bought gems, and royal gold. 
 Shake like ashes from a torch ; 
 Palaces, world-envied thrones. 
 Crumble down to dust as old 
 And idle as Behemoth's bones 
 On a frozen mountain-top. 
 76 
 
THE CRUCIBLE 77 
 
 I see the very mountains drop, 
 Wasting with their weight of stones 
 Swifter than a torrent slides, 
 Melted like the crimson cloud 
 Vanishing about their sides 
 When the morn has burst his shroud. 
 
 Love, Love, because thou didst destroy 
 So much, and madest so much vain, 
 I know what lives and shall remain, 
 I see amid Time's gorgeous wane 
 The dawn and promise of my joy. 
 
 lift me thither, lift me higher! 
 
 1 am not save in this desire, 
 Lost and living, fire in fire. 
 
I WANT a thousand things to-night; 
 The bonds of earth are strict and strong ; 
 Yet glory were a vain delight 
 Did you not sing within my song. 
 
 Hungers, despairs, and victories. 
 All the world's glories and alarms. 
 Forget their wound and find their prize 
 But on your lips, but in your arms. 
 
 78 
 
A PRAYER 
 
 O Thou who seekest me 
 Through the day's heartless hurry and uproar, 
 Who followest me to my thought's farthest shore — 
 Nay, who art gone before — 
 Sustain me, O sustain 
 The heart that seeks for thee. 
 The world is filled with rendings and with pain. 
 But thou with peace; with peace, though wronged so sore 
 By our despair, blind wrath and blind disdain. 
 And thou hast made it dear 
 To hope against the wrongs of every hour, 
 And given to hope the power 
 And passion to prevail ; 
 The heart, for all its fear. 
 Putting forth delicate shy flower on flower 
 Against the hard world's hail. 
 O might my love, that in one heart has found 
 Such hope to cherish, and such joy to sound, 
 O might it grow through days that chafe and bound 
 And our true souls from one another screen, 
 Till in its clear profound 
 Part of thy peace were seen. 
 
 79 
 
MILTON 
 
 AN ODE 
 
 Soul of England, dost thou sleep, 
 
 Lulled or dulled, thy mighty youth forgotten? 
 
 Of the world's wine hast thou drunk too deep? 
 
 Hast thou sown more than thy hands can reap? 
 
 Turn again thine ear 
 
 To that song severe 
 
 In thine hour of storm and war begotten! 
 
 Here in towered London's throng, 
 
 In her streets, with Time's new murmur seething, 
 
 Milton pacing mused his haughty song. 
 
 Here he sleeps out feud and fret and wrong. 
 
 Nay, that spirit august 
 
 Tramples death's low dust, 
 
 Still for us is kindled, burning, breathing. 
 
 He, on whose earth-darkened sight 
 
 Rose horizons of the empyrean 
 
 And the ordered spheres' unhasting flight; 
 
 He, who saw where, round the heart of Light 
 
 Seraphs ardent-eyed 
 
 80 
 
MILTON 8| 
 
 Flamed in circle wide, 
 
 Quiring music of their solemn paean, 
 
 When through space a trouble ran 
 
 (Like a flush on serene skies arisen) 
 
 That from this dim spot of earth began — 
 
 Rumour of the world's new marvel, Man, 
 
 From whose heart's beat sped 
 
 Hope, hazard, and dread 
 
 Past earth's borders to hell's fiery prison: 
 
 He, who saw the Anarch's hate 
 
 Tower, winged for woe ; the serpent charming 
 
 Eve in her imperilled bower; the Gate 
 
 Barred, and those two forms that, desolate 
 
 Mid the radiant spheres. 
 
 Wept first human tears ; 
 
 Earlier war in heaven, and angels arming: 
 
 He who, like his Samson, bowed. 
 
 Toiling, hardly-tasked and night-enfolded. 
 
 Steered his proud course to one purpose vowed, 
 
 As an eagle beats through hailing cloud 
 
 Strong-winged and alone. 
 
 Seeking skies unknown : 
 
 He whose verse, majestically moulded, 
 
 Moves like armed and bannered host 
 Streaming irresistible, or abounding 
 River in a land's remoteness lost, 
 G 
 
82 MILTON 
 
 Poured from solitary peaks of frost, 
 
 And far histories brings 
 
 Of old realms and kings, 
 
 With high fates of fallen Man resounding: 
 
 This is England's voice that rang 
 
 Over Europe; this the soul unshaken 
 
 That from darkness a great splendour sang, 
 
 Beauty mightier for the cost and pang; 
 
 Of our blood and name 
 
 Risen, our spirits to claim. 
 
 To enlarge, to summon, to awaken ! 
 
THE BATTLE OF STAMFORD 
 BRIDGE 
 
 " Haste thee, Harold, haste thee North! 
 
 Norway ships in Humber crowd. 
 Tall Hardrada, Sigurd's son, 
 For thy ruin this hath done — 
 
 England for his own hath vowed. 
 
 " The earls have fought, the earls are fled. 
 
 From Tyne to Ouse the homesteads flame. 
 York behind her battered wall 
 Waits the instant of her fall 
 
 And the shame of England's name. 
 
 " Traitor Tosti's banner streams 
 
 With the invading Raven's wing; 
 Black the land and red the skies 
 Where Northumbria bleeds and cries 
 For thy vengeance, England's King ! " 
 
 Since that frighted summons flew 
 Not twelve suns have sprung and set. 
 83 
 
84 BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE 
 
 Northward marching night and day 
 Has King Harold kept his way. 
 The hour is come; the hosts are met 
 
 Morn through thin September mist 
 Flames on moving helm and man. 
 On either side of Derwent's banks 
 Are the Northmen's shielded ranks. 
 But silent stays the English van. 
 
 A rider to Earl Tosti comes : 
 
 " Turn thee, Tosti, to thy kin ! 
 Harold thy brother brings thee sign 
 All Northumbria shall be thine. 
 
 Make thy peace, ere the fray begin ! " 
 
 " And if I turn me to my kin 
 
 And if I stay the Northmen's hand, 
 
 What will Harold give to my friend this day? 
 
 To Norway's king what price will he pay 
 Out of this English land ? " 
 
 That rider laughed a mighty laugh, 
 
 "Six full feet of English soil! 
 Or, since he is taller than the most, 
 Seven feet shall he have to boast; 
 
 This Harold gives for Norway's spoil." 
 
 " What rider was he that spoke thee fair? " 
 Harold Hardrada to Tosti cried. 
 
BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE 85 
 
 " It was Harold of England spoke me fair; 
 But now of his bane let him beware. 
 Set on, set on! we will break his pride." 
 
 Sudden arrows flashed and flew ; 
 
 Dark lines of English leapt and rushed 
 With sound of storm that stung like hail, 
 And steel rang sharp on supple mail 
 
 With thrust that pierced and blow that crushed. 
 
 And sullenly back in a fierce amaze 
 
 The Northmen gave to the river side. 
 The main of their host on the further shore 
 Could help them nothing, pressed so sore. 
 
 In the ooze they fought, in the wave they died. 
 
 On a narrow bridge alone one man 
 
 The English mass and fury stays. 
 The spears press close, the timber cracks. 
 But high he swings his dreadful axe. 
 
 With every stroke a life he slays; 
 
 Till pierced at last from the stream below 
 He falls: the Northmen break and shout. 
 
 Forward they hurl in wild onset. 
 
 But as struggling fish in a mighty net 
 The English hem them round about 
 
 Now Norway's king grew battle- mad. 
 Mad with joy of his strength he smote. 
 G 2 
 
86 BATTLE OF STAMFORD BRIDGE 
 
 But as he hewed his battle-path, 
 And heaped the dead men for a swath, 
 An arrow clove him through the throat ; 
 
 And where he slaughtered, red he fell. 
 
 O then was Norway's hope undone. 
 Doomed men were they that fought in vain, 
 Hardrada slain, and Tosti slain! 
 
 The field was lost, the field was won. 
 
 York this night rings all her bells. 
 
 Harold feasts within her halls. 
 The Captains lift their wine-cups. — Hark! 
 What hoofs come thudding through the dark 
 
 And sudden stop? What silence falls? 
 
 Spent with riding staggers in 
 
 One who cries : " Fell news I bring. 
 
 Duke William has o'erpast the sea. 
 
 His host is camped at Pevensey. 
 Save us, save England now, O King! " 
 
 Woe to Harold! Twice 'tis not 
 
 His to conquer and to save. 
 Well he knows the lot is cast. 
 England claims him to the last. 
 
 South he marches to his grave. 
 
GLORIOUS HEART 
 
 Swift and straight as homing dove, 
 
 Heedless, so its flight be flown. 
 
 All the full stream of thy love. 
 
 Love that knows no mortal bounding, 
 
 Pours, is emptied for its own. 
 
 Glorious Heart, 
 
 Great and loyal and abounding! 
 
 Over stormy waters eager 
 
 Lifted like a breasting prow. 
 
 Though the winds and waves beleaguer, 
 
 To one star thy true course guiding 
 
 Onward, ever onward, thou 
 
 Glorious Heart, 
 
 Steerest, hopest, well confiding. 
 
 When thy strength within thee faints, 
 When to grief the way is hard. 
 All thy heroes and thy saints, 
 Lo, with strong hands arming for thee, 
 Hold thy tenderness in guard. 
 Glorious Heart! 
 
 They that bore thy pains before thee. 
 87 
 
88 GLORIOUS HEART 
 
 Like a flag that, battle-girt, 
 Keeps its ardent colours high, 
 Knows not either hate or hurt, 
 Nay, nor fear nor thought of turning, 
 Flag for which men leap to die. 
 Glorious Heart, 
 Still within my heart be burning! 
 
NOTE 
 
 For permission to reprint poems which first 
 appeared in various periodicals, the Author 
 thanks the Editors of the Fortnightly Review, 
 the Cornhill Magazine, the English Review, 
 the Times Literary Supplement, the Academy, 
 the Morning Post, the Westminster Gazette, 
 Country Life, the Pall Mall Magazine, 
 and Temple Bar. Certain of the lyrics from 
 " Dream-come-True," a small volume printed 
 by Mr. Lucien Pissarro at his private press 
 in 1905, are included in this book. 
 
CHISWICK PRESS : CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. 
 TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON. 
 
YCi5l223 
 
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