M ^=" u ^ =^= X . — 6 m 1 ^ : j> 2 g = 8 m o 6 1 f— ^5 9 PR6003 BRYON, May Clarissa (Gil- Y75P6 lington). Poems . LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE ^,Sj^J'^-fl^-^/^f^ I^OE MS. POEMS. BY "m. c. gillington AND A. E. GILLINGTON. LONDON : I.LIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, K.C. 1892. 43cbiciitcl) lO J. M, G. AND S. D. G. NOTE. Our thanks are due to Mr. James Henderson for kindly allowing the reprint of several poems which have appeared in Old and Young; to Messrs. Cassell and Co., Limited, for courteously permitting the use of ' A Grey Day,' ' All Among the Barley ' (Woman's World), and ' Daybreak' [CasscWs Saturday Journal) ; and to other publishers and editors who have given leave for the insertion of certain lyrics in their possession. M. C. G. A. E. G. CONTENTS. I'AGE AUBADE - - - - - - I A WEST-COUNTRY LOVE-SONG - - - - 5 BETWEEN THE WOLDS AND THE NORTH SEA - - 6 DAWN ------- 7 SURRENDER - - " " " - 8 A FLOWER - - - - - - 9 NOCTURNES, I. - - - - " - lO II. ----- 12 A GUILTY DAY - - - - " ' '3 MAY BE - - - - - - >4 PEAR-HLOSSOM - - - " " " '5 THE TRYST OK IHK NIGHT - - - * I? I WILL RETURN - - - " - l8 A BLUE STOCKING - - - ' - 20 WHEN THE FLOODS ARE OUT - - - - 22 CRADLE SONG - - - * " 23 X Contents. I' AGE HALLOWMAS, L - - - - - -24 „ n. - .... 25 IN THE OTTER-MARSHES - - - - 26 A DEAD MARCH - . - - -27 SPRING NOCTURNE - - . - - 29 CLIMAX - . - - - - 30 AN IDYLL OF SAINT VALENTINE - - "31 PROPHECY - - - . - - 32 GARDEN VOICES - - - - "34 'ON NIGHTS LIKE THESE* - - - "35 VENGEANCE - - - - . -36 A RESTING-PLACE, I. - - - - -38 „ » "• - - - - - 39 WOOD- WANDERING - - . - - 40 FINAL - - - - - - - 41 GOLDEN SILENCE - - - - "41 FEP>RUARY FII.I.DYKE - - - - "43 AN EAST-COUNTRY LOVE-SONG - - - "44 WAYFARING WATERS : A BROWN STUDY - * 45 PATIENCE - - - - - - 47 THE SOUL-STAR - - - - - 48 SOUTH-EAST WIND - - - - "49 AN INCANTATION - - - - "SO Contents. XI THE DESIRED HAVEN - AN APRH, SHOWER LAST MOMENTS MOON STORY - A WAVE, I. - II. - RONDEAU DEAD CALM DAYBREAK MAY NKIHI A VENETLW LADY BY GIORGIONE A (JREV DAY WHEN SHE comes! an arabian night all amonr; the barley prf:sentiment MORIITRI IK SALUTANT ! ni(;hi-u iNi> SPRING-EPISODK THE SEA IS CALLINf; ! - THE STRANGER THE ASSURED END - A WINTER DinV 51 53 54 55 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 74 75 76 77 xii Contents^ THK RECOMPENSE - - - - -78 ABSENCE - - - - - - 79 TWO IN SPRING - - - - - 80 FULL MOON - - - - . - 83 ' ON RKVIENT TOUJOURS A SES PREMIERS AMOURS ' - 84 NIGHT-PIECE, I. - - - - - 86 „ H. - - - - - 87 „ III. - - - - - 88 THE FAIRY THRALL - - - - - 89 OUTSIDE THE DOOR - - - - - 90 IN THE LAST DAY - - - - "93 A GALILEAN - - - - "94 SERENADE - - - - - - 96 IN MAY - - - - - - 97 NEW YEAR - - - - - - 98 POEMS. AUBADE. ' LovK, love, where are you ? In the still brown gloom Ere dawn of day, I hear the throstle sing ; Across my dreams, across the darkling room. The clear notes, keen with pathos, float and ring. * I am so lonely, And you, you only Can bless me — only you can comfort bring ! ' Love, love, where are you ? Through the black- boughed woods Run birth-throes ; violets in the olden spot Climb forth, rmd little leaves unloose their hoods Along lush pathways by the foot forgot ; Green mosses thicken, Grey branches quicken — Love, love, where are you ? for I find you not. I 2 Anbade. ' Love, love, where are you ? In the wet brown field Slim points prick forth all softly one by one ; The daisies bloom ; the lark's lips are unsealed ; The hedgerow children open to the sun, Sweet leaves and grasses In verdurous masses — O wherefore leave me ? What now have I done ? ' Love, love, where are you ? In the purpling lane The willow throbs with life, the elder shoots, The primrose faces peer out once again From their dusk shelter in the hazel roots. Blue speedwells gaily Ope themselves daily, And on the ferny bank the blackbird flutes. * But you, where are you ? for the spring is void, And life has lost its radiant rainbow gleam. Having once tasted love's cup, having joyed In love, all mute for lack of love I seem, I cannot fashion My songs of passion To the cowslip-babble of an April stream. Atibade. ' Sometimes about the midmost of the night, In a half-dream, I see you drawing near; With flutter of wings and cry of soft dehght Your unforgotten voice I thrill to hear — Warm down and feather — We two together — The dream dies in the dark — vou are not here. ' Sometimes a moment at the dawn of day I gain a goal, I enter at the gate Of some strange countr)' very far away, A magic realm obscure and isolate, Which no man knoweth, Where no bird goeth, Whereto no sorrowful sound may penetrate. 'Sjiriiig meanings all unravelled, and the deep Unutterable longings half exprcst Born of the May-time — yearnings wild that sweep, Whither and whence a mystery, o'er the breast, I-'ind sweet fruition Before my vision, And skyey secrets are made manifest. I — 2 4 Ate bade. ' But these I sing not. The unfurling leaf Shakes itself out upon the alder bough, And little showers with petulant baby grief Sob in the lengthening meadow grass ; and now The new dawn bleaches The grey sky-reaches, And dim new lights the wakening world endow. ' And once again I call you, it may be You will hear this once. Love, love, O love, I cry, Hear me, O heart's delight, and come to me ! My whole desire must draw you, far or nigh, With strong persistence Out of the distance. Out of the uttermost edge of earth or sky.' The wild, outpouring torrent of notes I heard, Through the clear shades and damp sweet morning air. The pure, deliberate utterance of the bird, Quickening in anguish, dwindling in despair, With dole incessant Sadly decrescent, Waning among the budded branches there. A West-Country Lovc-Soug. Then sudden silence — no more any note Piercing the stillness with its passionate pain ; No least low ripple of song howe'er remote, Falling like last faint drops of thunder-rain. Perchance — who knows, then ? — Death brought repose then — Perchance the dear lost love returned again. A WEST-COUNTRY LOVE-SONG. O, THE sweet dream of the springtide ! O, the quiet laugh of the morn ! When the brook bubbled down to the foot of the town, .\nd everywhere flowers were born ; And pear-trees stood white in the orchard. And daisies blushed red in the clover, And through the soft rain the thrush sang in the lane, Where all the flower-faces drooped over. O, the faint fragrance of roses, Crumpled up, pink and white, in }'our hand ! Where all the long day comes the scent of the hay, And tiic brook bubbles down to the sand — To the sand and the glittering tide, And the marsh, and the fields of red clover, Where the golden-lipped iris growcth, I wis. And the curlew's long whistle wails over. 6 Between the Wolds and the North Sea. Now, with that look in your face, With the sunlight aslant on your cheek, Will you understand, while I hold your hand, And, O dearest maid, let me speak ? For the west wind, with stories of old. Blows wild across bird's-foot and clover, And the sea turns to grey at the end of the day, And all the tiower-faces droop over. If.' BETWEEN THE WOLDS AND THE NORTH SEA. There is a wild dim waste of twilight sea: There is a sound of whispering wavelets lippinj The wet wide sands, where little shells are dipping In lonely waters ; and the tides returning Sing their old songs to me — old songs of yearning, And dreamy songs from far and far away, Of what has been, and may return some day. There are wild tracks of twilight-covered fields, That trend away toward the faint-heard sighing Of a dark sea beyond those meadows lying; The sand silts up among the marish grasses, And the long sedges, when the night-wind passes, Sing the same old-world songs from far away. Of what has been, and will return some da}^ Between the Wolds and the No7'th Sea. 7 And when the dykes He deep in cuckoo-flowers, And all the fields are filled with cowslips swaying — Between the time of hawthorn and the haying — There is a sound of bubbling wells o'erflowing, Of rippled waters over ribbed sands going — The blackbird, singing by the road grown grey, Of what has been, and will return some day. Maybe it is your love that will come back — Come back to me through years of tears and sighing Over life's level lands, and meadows lying Toward the endless sea. The night is falling. And I have had no answer to my calling ; Yet still the blackbird sings, in the road grown grey, Of what has been, and may return some day. DAWN \\'hi:n' the honcyswect lanes are still, in tli(j hush of the tender grey That nestles o'er holt and hill, like the brooding of ghostly wings, Then, primrose and pearl and fawn, a tremulous light upsprings, O mystical maiden Dawn ! from thine eyes in the far-away. 8 Dazvn. When the amethyst curtains droop, and the opahne doors unfold, And the Dreams in a shadowy troop go back through the Ivory Gate, Shall we meet, thou and I, shall we speak, where thy delicate footsteps wait On the tip of the topmost peak, in a glory of rose and gold ? Perchance from thy wordless lips all loveliest sounds shall flow, Like the voice of a stream that slips through a wonderful realm of rest ; Perchance thou wilt veil my sight on the robes of thy radiant breast, In the pulsing passionate light, in the fathomless farthest glow. SURRENDER. No more against inexorable fate Strive we in vain ; the very stars and sun Are linked against us, and the moments run In deepening chasms 'twixt us grown separate. Not heaven's own breath could now reanimate Our poor starved hopes that, slowly, one by one, Succumbed and were extinct. The tale is done : Love at our darkened thresholds knocked too late. A Flowe}". But yet for us the morning wind shall blow More sweetly henceforth ; to our tranquil eyes Young leaves, half-opened buds, shall hourly take A new, pathetic meaning ; we, grown wise In sorrow's tender subtleties, shall go All our years softly, for the old sake's sake. A FLOWER. CoMi:, little blossom, the cold is past, Waken up and be glad at last, Out of the brown earth peeping ! Many a leaf is born to-day Of the lovely marriage of rain and ray — Laugh while you may ! For the April skies are weeping. Ope, little blossom, and loose apart Your milk-white robes from your golden heart, A light in the leaf-shade making ! This is the season when bees may woo, And butterily lovers come courting you, Down in tluj dew. When the summer dawn is breaking. lO Nocturnes. Hide, little blossom, beneath the snow ! Now is never a time to blow, In the dusk of the year's declining; Into the night must all things wend, Leaf and blossom, lover and friend — And so an end, While the frosty stars are shining. NOCTURNES. I. The golden-lipped buttercup of the day, Filled with nectar-dew to the brim, Closes its petals and sleeps ; all grey Ripples the sea at the dark world's rim ; And the night-hawks whir, And the elm-trees stir Against the apricot-glow grown dim. Now wist I, my soul has flown away free As bird let loose from the fowler's snare ; I only long for the starlit sea — O for the waves low plashing there ! When the night-hawks whir, . And the dark trees stir, And blue dusk follows the hot day's glare. N^ociurnes. 1 1 The grey, gaunt rock where the sea-shell clings, And the rain that ripples the tidal pool, And the wood where the yellow-hammer sings — Thoughts like these are quiet and cool ; But to think of thee Would bring misery — Not calm refreshment like these sweet things. Yet why does my spirit, once so free, Beat like a wind-blown moth on the pane. Sigh like the far-off foam on the sea, Tremble like rose-leaves loose in the lane ? Has the love once spurned Grown turbulent ? — turned Home to the sorrowful heart again ? At night, dreams come from the beautiful sea, The wind blows wild up the wailful shore ; And never again will I dream of thee — I shall forget thee for evermore — While deep waves sigh The long hours by, And the new moon glints through the trysting tree. 1 2 Nocturnes. II. I want to breathe the salt wind from the sea, And hear the deep waves tossing on the bar ; The moon is up to-night, and Love's white star Sets in the western dome all dusky grey ; I stretch my hands to call you back to me. So soon forgetful ! And still more I pray That I may feel the soft wind from the sea, And hear the dark waves tossing on the bar. I want once more to meet you in the street Sea-hushed, and calm, and tranquil as a dream After the long day's duty and the heat ; I want to see the gold-lit tidal stream, And hear the fluttering laughter of the wind Across those well-loved ways left long behind ; I want once more to see you in that street Sea-hushed and calm, and tranquil as a dream. I want to breathe the fresh wind from the sea, And hear the deep waves tossing on the bar ; To hold your hand to-night, while Love's white star Rises within your eyes' dream-haunted grey. Old songs return — lost joys come back to me, And sorrow lapses with the lapsing day, While the west wind blows cool across the sea, And those dark waves are tossing on the bar! A Guilty Day. 13 A GUILTY DAY. If I could blot that one Day out for ever, So that no more by any means at all One thought, one memory, be it ne'er so small, Mi^'ht live to haunt my soul — if I could sever The links of circumstance, and swear that never That Day had been — could build a mighty wall To shut it out, where-through no cry nor call Might faintliest sound to mock my strong endeavour ! But now that Day is as a poisonous leaven Working through all my present and my past — And now that Day is as a blighting blast That shrivels the sweet buds of morn and even — Ah, God forbid ! what if that Day at last Stretch out dim hands to bar the gates of heaven ! 1 4 Maybe. MAYBE. Only a word and a flower — Take them for what they are worth ; At least they will serve for an hour, It may be, to make you mirth. Only a flower and a word ! Maybe, 'twere better by far If you left them unseen and unheard, And scorned the trifles they are. I send them, nevertheless — I cast my heart at your feet ; Maybe, in your carelessness, You will trample and break it, Sweet ! Yet maybe my touch shall wake Strings that are dormant and dumb — Stars will reel, skies rock, and earth quake- You will call me, and I shall come ! Pear-Blossom. 1 5 PEAR-BLOSSOM. ' When our pear-blossom's bright in the rainy grey Hght, Or tlushed in the cool evening's red, In his arms he will fold me, to his heart he will hold me, He will tell me his secret,' she said ; ' It may be our pear-tree will bloom in the night, Or to-morrow, or next day — God knows !' O the pale sweet primrose ! And the tall jonquils bending, white rim touching rim, In the garden grown dim ! One day of spring laughter, then a night followed after. Grey-shrouded in silence of rain ; O God ! at the brink of such pleasures, to sink In such quicksands of iniinite pain ! ' Look out through your tears to the misty moon- beams This once — although never again Will he come — e'en in dreams. For our pear in the garden's all white with its flowers ;' Well ! God's will, not ours ! 1 6 Pear-Blossom. Yet when the moon's hull creepeth up, golden-full As the mary-buds down by the mere, And the jonquil-cups hold in their glory of gold All the secrets and scent of the year, * Shall the spring come and go in its sunshine V she said, ' And no roses unfold, white and red ? But the empty grey mould For those who have shed bitter tears in the sowing, While the summer's all going ?' While the pear-blossom spray falls the whole of the day, While the garden is sweet with long showers. While the woodruff scent's deep as warm odours that creep Over swathes that are left by the mowers — While the whitethroat sings low in the hedge by the way. And the cowslip-heads hang, heavy-eyed — ' Let my heart go !' she sighed, ' Home to God through the light and the flowers — Let His will be ours !' The Tryst of the iVight. i 7 THE TRYST OF THE NIGHT. Out of the uttermost ridge of dusk, where the dark and the day are mingled, The voice of the Night rose cold and calm — it called through the shadow-swept air ; Through all the valleys and lone hillsides, it pierced, it thrilled, it tingled — It summoned me forth to the wild seashore, to meet with its mystery there. Out of the deep ineffable blue, with palpitant swift repeating Of gleam and glitter and opaline glow, that broke in ripples of light — In burning glory it came and went-- 1 heard, I saw it beating, Pulse by pulse, from star to star — the passionate heart of the Night ! Out of the thud of the rustling sea — the panting, yearning, throbbing Waves that stole on the startled shore, with coo and mutter of spray — The wail of the Night came fitful-faint — I heard her stifled sobbing — The cold salt drops fell slowly, slowly, grey into gulfs of grey. 2 i8 / IVi/I Return. There through the darkness the great world reeled, and the great tides roared, assembling — Murmuring hidden things that are past, and secret things that shall be ; There at the limits of life we met, and touched with a rapturous trembling — One with each other, I and the Night, and the skies, and the stars, and sea. I WILL RETURN. I WILL return to the love I knew of old, For on the earth exists no sweeter thing. * But if thou find'st that love grown strange and cold, And if it cause thee pain and sorrowing, An anguish bitter, and a fierce unrest — Then wilt thou go?' O ay ! yon bird that sings In May's green twilight, hath a broken wing. And still it calls. Still it calls, Beside its ruined nest. / If'i// Return. 19 I will return to the heart I knew of old, For in the world is no more peaceful place. * But if thou find'st that heart grown hard and cold, And if it cause thee shame and deep disgrace, To gain that heart grown hard, what wilt thou bring ? Love's tide waxed high, but now it ebbs apace.' The violet has tears upon her face. And hides her head, Hides her head. In darkened eves of spring. I will return to the hand I clasped of old. And where it leads me, thither will I go. ' But should that hand no longer thine enfold, Or should it spurn thee out to deeper woe Than e'er thou dream'st of? Child, return no more !' Thou sayest ; and, God wot, it may be so ! Yet I must seek that love of long ago, And follow on, 1'\j11ow on, The way it led before. 20 A Blue Stocking. A BLUE STOCKING. Oh yes, she was most unmistakably blue, Basque, Cuneiform, Hebrew, and Sanscrit she knew ; Folks said that her dreams were in Greek ; She could work hydrostatics And high mathematics, And read all Stuart Mill in a week ! There was nought to denote, though, her wonderful powers — Her eyes were as blue as hepatica flowers. But nothing much out-of-the-way ; And the rest of her features Like commonplace creatures. Red lips, and a nez retrousse. In ways protoplasmic she wandered demure — Her language, though charming, was slightly obscure. From redundance of technical terms ; Her delight you would kindle By mentioning Tyndall On glaciers or cholera germs. A Blue Stockiuo^. 21 .b ' Oh, a terribly learned young woman was this ! Anglo-Saxon, astronomy, nought came amiss ; She had dipped into fugue, by the way — With ' Bain ' and with ' Jevons ' She trifled — good heavens ! She called moral science ' child's play ' ! To this very Saturday, nobody knows How he ever could summon the pluck to propose To an M.A., Mus. Bac, and M.D. ; Though what he did that in W^as, maybe, good Latin — He attended her lectures, you see ! Some vowed she'd no heart — but at one little word She blushed in a way that was really absurd, And her golden head droo])ed on his breast ; Verbs, angles, and sections I'lew off, all directions — She was only a woman, at best ! 22 JI7ic?i the Floods are oitt. WHEN THE FLOODS ARE OUT. Last night for a moment I held your hand, You snatched it away with a flush and pout- Now it chngs to mine with a wild demand For help, for solace, as we two stand Here, face to face, in the rocking land, When the floods are out. The crash of boughs and the wail of sheep, The tides up-swinging in roar and rout — The midnight heavy o'er waves that leap Through fold and meadowland driving deep — What matter ? — if close to my side you creep, When the floods are out. The flash of foam and the hiss of spray, In the flickering torchlight — the boatmen's shout- The cold stream lapping our feet — the grey Wild waters around us, look each way — Let us die ! but I kiss you now while I may, When the floods are out. Cradle Song. 23 CRADLE SONG. Hushaby ! the end of the day Drops into dark, and the roses turn grey ; Bird-songs are silent, and footsteps are few, Night falls so softly for me and for you ; Sleep 1 Hushab}- ! the li]\-buds white Shut up their secrets in shadows of night ; Down in the meadow the flow'rs blue and red, Silent together, sweet head laid to head, Sleep ! Hushaby ! the brook as it goes Whispers a story that nobody knows ; Out of the moonlight the angels let fall Beautiful drcamlets for little ones all — Sleep ! 24 Hallozunias. HALLOWMAS. Now the still tide creeps in with stealthy tread, While every wet and wave-forsaken shell Echoes its whisper ; now o'er field and fell The moonlight trails. In damp woods yellow and red The dying leaf drops to the leaves long dead, Noiseless — and the gray owl inaudible Dips through the dusk. \'o need of new-made spell To win the living or to wake the dead. For, while soft corn-scents lap the drowsy farm, Down the long furrows what dark shape may loom Against the starlight ? while the mystic charm Draws phantom footsteps hither through the gloom, And bids the budding dream burst into bloom, And flings me, folds me, in my lover's arm ! Ha//oiu?nas. 2 5 II. With what sweet summonin^s of love's own tongue Shall I then bid thee hither ? With what rite Of weird enchantment shall I woo the night To bring forth thee? With what wild arms out- flung In uttermost yearning theeward, and hands wrung In throes of wrestling strong in fate's despite, Shall I now lure thee through the wan moonlight, With strange words muttered, and strange music sung ? The incantation of the infinite sea, The supreme sorcery of the spell-bound sky, The witchcraft of in\ love omnipotent, Shall throl) through space— till darkness tremble, rent By sweep of spectral wings — and nothing be Knowable any more hut thou — and I ! . . . 26 /// the Otter- Marshes. IN THE OTTER-MARSHES. The wind of the sea comes creeping, When the heron-woods are still, To the coombes where the flowers are sleeping In fragrance below the hill ; Up the murmuring mouth of the river, Hastening down to the tide, To the deep dark pool where the shadows lie cool Under the red rock-side. The grey wave glitters and glances, By shore and shingle-ledge, By banks where the honey-bee dances, And hay-breath floats in the hedge ; But oh ! my heart is panting For the first soft rush of the tide, As it runs up the reach with the sandy beach Under the red rock-side. With turmoil of waves the dav closes, When, through the meadows' deep grass, The cool ripples call to the roses And the buttercup-fields as they pass. And oh ! my heart is panting For the sight of your sea-grey eyes ! Surely 'tis true, I love only you — Oh, could it be otherwise ? A Dead March. 27 When the westerly wind comes sweeping Up sea-streets twilit and still, When the quiet morass is sleeping In fragrance below the hill — Shall we meet in the sweet dark meadows ? Shall we greet at the turn of the tide, As it runs up the reach by the sandy beach, Under the red rock-side ? A DEAD MARCH. Be hushed, all voices and untimely laughter! Let no least word be lightly said In the awful presence of the Dead, That slowly, slowly, this way comes, — Arms piled on coffin, comrades marching after, Colours reversed, and muffled drums. He bared, all heads! feet, the procession follow, Throughout the stilled and sorrowing tfjwii ; Weep, woeful eyes, and be cast down ; Tread softly, till the bearers stop Under the cypress in the shadowy hollow, While last light fades o'er mountain top. 28 A Dead March. Lay down your burden here, whose hfe hath journeyed Afar, and where ye may not wot ; Some httle while around this spot Be dirges sung and prayers low-said, Dead leaves disturbed, and clammy earth upturned, — Then in his grave dead Love is laid. • Fling them upon him — withered aspirations, And battered hopes and broken vows ; He was the last of all his house, Has left behind no kith nor kin — His bloodstained arms and faded decorations, His dinted helmet — throw them in ! And all the time the twilight skies are turning To sullen ash and leaden grey — Cast the sods o'er him, come away, In vain upon his name you call, — Though you all night should cry with bitter yearning, He would not heed nor hear at all. Pass homewards now, in musing melancholy. To find the house enfilled with gloom, And no lights lit in any room, And stinging herald-drops of rain. Choke up your empty heart with anguish wholly, For Love will never rise again. spring Nocturne. 29 SPRING NOCTURNE. The moon and the evening star Were out in the sky together, A diamond bright with dazzhng Hght, And a Httle golden feather. There they were glowing and burning Aloft in the cloudless blue, And the tender twilight returning Let fall the dew. The moon and the evening star Were out in the sky together ; They pulsed above like the heart of love, They throbbed in the tranquil ether. There they were glowing and burning, Aloft in the cloudless blue ; And ever my thoughts were yearning, My Dear, to you ! The moon and the evening star, The rapturous April weather. The daffoflil-buds and primrosc-lloods, And violets thronged together, Bring back old nicniories burning. Though darkness shadows the blue. And lost is the sweet love-learning That once we knew. Climax. CLIMAX. O SLEEPLESS nights, O weary watchful days, Here is a recompense for all your woe. Complete, supreme — the more, because I know \\^hat agony of doubtings and delays. What prayers and fastings and what thorny ways Have brought us hither — how our steps must go Henceforth apart. At last ; speak low, lean low, Send out your soul in answer to my gaze ! Though some eternal shadow should eclipse My whole life's light — though unblest years ot pains Should sear my blood from feet to finger-tips. What matter ? while this certainty remains, That once our hearts have mingled and our lips, Here at the utmost bound of Love's domains. An Idyll of Saint Valentine. 31 AN IDYLL OF SAINT VALENTINE. New light across the wintry days, New leaves along the windy ways, New points of green in hedges set, New love all shy and silent yet. For he had doubts, and she was dumb Of all that love could construe ' Couie /' And thoughts are frozen hard from speech In blind hearts groping each to each. She, sorrowful, in love's despite Brushed tell-tale blushes back from sight. And bade her careless eyes aver He of all men was least to her. And none might know what pangs and pain Lay deep concealed betwixt these twain — What dull despairs went nigh to make Wreck of twr; lives on one mistake. Snowdrops, the fairest and the first, Oelicate daisies winter-nursed, Hlue violets — these perchance can say Far more than lips or letters may. 32 . /// Idyll of Sain I I'alcutiue. Upon her sill they lay — no name, And yet she knew from whence they came ; The feeble February light Reeled with rose-glories infinite ! From each cool flower spring-redolent A wordless message upward went ; With some sweet impulse half-con fest, She shrined the posy on her breast. They met : a faint and chilly rain Was rustling all along the lane ; She would have passed with eyes down-dropped, But — 'Dear!' he said, and then she stopped. . . . PROPHECY. Bv the restful sigh of the silver sea, Where the breath of the wind is sweet With the thyme in the sun-browned grass at thy feet, And the honeyed hives of red and white clover. And trefoil with crimson-pointed shoon — A wonderful, happy dream shall come over — Brown sails shall carry it home to thee. And it shall rise up with the lifting moon. Prophecy. 33 There is danger abroad on the breezy height, And the grey cliff's shelving steep ; Yet the wailing seagulls have gone to sleep, And rosy clouds lie down in the sky, \\'hile lights flash over the lonely sea ; Nay, fearsome heart ! thou shalt not die — But a low, strange voice in thine ear to-night Shall whisper a fairy-tale dream to thee. And when the fallows lie russet-red Against the glow in the west, And warm sea-winds, with passion-zest. Have kissed the grass and the dim white clover, And sing ' This sweet thing happeneth soon,' — A dream shall come when the day is over ; It shall rise with the tide, by its laughter led, And it shall approach with the lifting moon. 34 Garden Voices. GARDEN VOICES. O WILLOW-WREN, the first of the year, Thy dehcate, rapturous song I hear, In the garden ! Grant me my heart's desire, I pray — Seek the world over, Bring me my lover, Hither while leaves are green in May. O nightingale, the first of the year, Thy passionate, wonderful song I hear. In the garden ! Grant me my heart's desire, I pray — Sing thou above him. Tell him I love him. Though he forget me, while green turns grey. O turtle-dove, the last of the year, Thy timorous, murmurous song I hear, In the garden ! Grant m.e my heart's desire, I pray — Hide me in grasses Deep ; if he passes. He will not remember the leaves of May. On Nights like These. ON NIGHTS LIKE THESE. ' Der Tod, das ist die kiihle Nacht, Das Leben is der schwiile Tag.' Heine. On nights like these, when the hay-sweet meadow- grass Has reached unto the grey gate's topmost ledge — When cider-flowers show white along the hedge, And cooling winds, brimful of passion, pass The rose-flushed sky and heaving foliage-mass Where those tall trees stand sentinel at the edge Of the ferny copse — when by the rustling sedge The orchis shivers in the wild morass, — How dream the dead, on evenings like to these ? Are they asleep ? or do they hear the fall Of deepened waves below the churchyard wall. When long shades sweep across the darkened seas ? Or do they walk unseen amid the trees I^eside me — listening, waiting, knowing all ? 3—2 36 Vengemice. VENGEANCE. I WAS only a child — or, at least, so you styled Me lightly, that April of yore — ' Crude passions, and callow affections' — you smiled, And scoffed — but you smile now no more. My love you discerned, and you scorned it and spurned, My secret close-nurtured apart ; With cruel cold laughter, to mocking you turned The innermost depths of my heart. You know me not now, when my breast and my brow Are crowned with a splendour new-sprung, When you treasure, and know not the why or the how. Each syllable slipped from my tongue. The doom of a curse that you cannot reverse Shall darken your days drawing nigh — You shall know the same woes, but a thousand-fold worse. As have parched all my life-fountains dry. Vengeance. 3 7 When Love in your veins like a poison remains, And twists up your heart-strings, and gnaws Your soul till you madden with infinite pains That rack you and rend without pause — You shall hope against hope, you shall grovel and grope In the dusk of your impotent strength, You shall groan in your misery, powerless to cope With Love in its breadth and its length ; You shall hunger and thirst till your heart well-nigh burst, You shall wail in your utter despair, You shall toss all the night till the dawning-star first Declines in the drowsy-dim air; You shall find my whole hate like an adamant gate I'or ever set fast 'twixt us twain, Lest haj^ly some freak of ironical l-'atc Should move me — to love you again ! 3^ A Rest i7tg- Place. A RESTING-PLACE. When the Night comes wherein no dreams shall scare My sure repose — when all my work is done — Lay my still feet towards the eastern sun, Deep in your seaward churchyard green and fair, A stone's-throw from the strand ; all sweetly there The slim young blades of grass shall, one by one, Prick up around me, and low flutings run Of ousel-song across the restful air. So when the morning in a haze of gold Melts o'er the hill — or when the Pleiades Keep watch above the wood — I, as of old, In pauses of my sleep may hear once more The great wave chanting as it swings ashore, The rattling shingle and the clashing seas. A Resti7i(r-Place. 39 ^> II. For if I could but hear one mellow rush, When the tide turns, of waters up the beach- If only once unto mine ears could reach The last long ripple at ebb, that in the flush Of sunset sighs, like wind through grasses lush- Could the mysterious, half-articulate speech Of waves at full-tide crying each to each, Ring to me here in the darkness and the hush, To those wild voices from the daylight years, Clatter of spray, and whistling wind-note shrill. Surely my very dwindling dust would thrill Responsive, and my soul from far-off spheres Lean down to listen, how the old echoes still Pour throbbing melody in long-dead ears. Wood- IVmtdering: WOOD-WANDERING. The sunlight through the twisted oaks shines low — That rose-red light that charms one like a dream ; The purple-fringed seas, slow-heaving, seem As one bright shell, brimful to overflow ; Love, love, why do your footsteps linger so ? Was it not here, beneath the leaves of May, In this dark wood, you stole my heart away ? Brown sails, swift-sliding over harbour bar, O take me with you ! for my eyes grow dim With waiting, while, above the sunset's rim, Through the soft twilight throbs one golden star In that far haven where our lost sunsets are ; While all the night's suffused with rosy glow — Love, love, why do your footsteps linger so ? Final. 4' FINAL. I SAY Farewell — for the last time let it be — No more of hopeless hope, of vain endeavour ; I have no part in you, nor you in me, For ever. Yet even so, I needs must touch your head With passionate-thrilling fingers, bent above you- Because — although for the last time it be said — I love you ! My heart, my life-blood, soul of my very soul, O thou mine all ! farewell, for fears beset mc : Between us two now let the long years roll — Forget me ! GOLDEN SILENCE. Tin-: summer night so still, and dusk, and warm- Cloudy the sky, and filled with coming storm ; The fetant lightning Hashing Through sultry air rose-sweet, The dim waves softly plashing Low at our lingering feet — So dccj) the dark, I scarce could mark The shadowy outline of the one beloved form. 42 Goldejt Silence. The wet, brown weeds, the whisperings on the beach Of drowsy waters calhng each to each, The scents of hay and clover That crept along the night From the great downs piled over The gray cliff's grassy height — Sight, odour, sound. Held us spell-bound ; Silent we went, and had no need of any speech. Only when once the encroaching fringe of foam Beyond its wonted limit seemed to roam. And ran with sudden hissing So swiftly round us twain, Our lips and foreheads kissing With drops of salty rain — With eyes down-drooped, Towards me you stooped, And lips that moved to speak — yet thence no word did come. February Filldyke. 43 FEBRUARY FILLDYKE. Blow softly, wild wet wind, on aching eyes ! Flow, tender rain, companioning their tears — Yea, overflow the lonely haunted meres, The turbid streams of human miseries ! Grow into deeper grey, wan-clouded skies. And sea tumultuous with Titan fears ; Young buds and leaves are drowned ; daffodil spears Lie prone on earth, shattered in woeful wise. Yet seaweed scents come fresh, and salt, and keen. Along the shore ; and sap begins to move In purpling hedges ; and a tremor of hope May thrill cold hearts made bare of faith and love, When the swift sunbeam on the windy slope Strikes sodden fallows into sudden green. 44 An East-Country Love-Song. AN EAST-COUNTRY LOVE-SONG. The thrush sings in the twilight — ' O, the promise of the May ! When the dark holds deeper incense than the waking of the day — When the double shells of apple-bloom have opened in the nighi, And the cream-pale primrose-peerless is a honeyed well of light ! ' Blue violets and woodruff white sleep in the haw- thorn shade — The cuckoo-flowers among the grass have silver ripples made ; The blackcap in the fir has sung his prayer, and so is still— O love, the night ! the silence ! and the fields of daffodil !' When the tide runs up the dyke, and the weedy stream flows clear, And the chaffinch ceases singing in the orchard dim, my dear. When the primrose scent is filling all the wood, the field, the lane, Come out to-night and meet me — let m.e hold your hand again ! Wayfaring Waters. 45 The cowslips touch the crimson tips of daisies in the grey Old meadows, where the sea-wind laughs across from far awaj' ! The blackcap in the fir has sung ' Goodnight !' and so is still ; O love, the night ! the silence ! and the fields of daffodil ! WAYFARING WATERS: A BROWN STUDY. The brown brook laughed and went its way 'Twixt hill and hill ; Along the slopes night-shadows lay, The fields were still ; The clear brown dusk held all the height, And brimmed the vale, that summer night ; The clear brown dusk, not dark nor day, Enveined with shade, Where many an oak spread many a spray — In whose leaves laid. Birds till"' their happy dreams heard sing The water in its wandering. 46 Wayfaring Waters. The nightingale fell silent soon, And every rose That climbs about the gate of June Turned to repose ; But through the valleys of the hay The brown brook laughed and went its way. It spoke of many a happy brood That soon should fly, Where in the green leaf-solitude Sweet days go by — It whispered low of secret things Hid in the heart of water-springs. And as it went, strange tales it told In unknown tongue, And fairy histories of old It softly sung ; Through the clear dusk it took its flight, The clear brown dusk, not day nor night. Patience. 47 PATIENCE. Now while your feast is spead, your wine free- flowing, Your head red-rose wreath'd — while your robes distil Sweet, languid odours, and your heart-strings thrill To the rapturous music all about you blowing — While round your banquet-hall warm lights are glowing, And jewels gleam — forget me if you will ! In this thing also your desire fulfil, Though all the joys you reap were of my sowing. And yet some day, I think, you will remember. When feet go wearily and cheeks grow pale, When sheaves are spent and songs are out oi tunc, When night-winds mutter in tiic drear November, Past creaking barn-door and forsaken flail. And desolate rickyards open to the moon. 48 The Soul-Star. THE SOUL-STAR. When voices die away Across the new-mown hay, When, round the elder-bush — White, white within the gloom — There comes a deeper hush ; And ever)^ wild-rose bloom Withdraws itself in deeper shade Than that by its own leafage made ; Then, to the east afar. One solitary star From the dim-whispering sea Uprises, through the boughs Of the tall poplar-tree That stands before your house — And pours its pure unwavering rays Through pale blue dusk and twilit ways. So, common joys being fled. And world's delights all dead, By night the thought of you Rises, serene and far ; And in my dreams I view That solitary star Uplift itself from height to height. And pierce the dark with passionate light ! South-East JVind. 49 SOUTH-EAST WIND. KYRIELLE. The wind is sobbing across the wold, Away from the darkened sea, From the lonely strands and the shores lyin.i;^ cold- And dost thou sorrow for me ? And I hear, at the edge of the wild wet sands, The moan of the restless sea ; Why is it wringing its foam-white hands ? A nd dost than sorrow for nic ? And deep sighs move with a murmur low In the heart of the cedar-tree ; Why is it trembling and heaving so ? A nd dost thou sorrow for vie ? The winds are wandering over the wold, Away from the darkened sea ; The bird's song ceases; the sheep arc in fold — And dost thou sorrow for inc ? 50 W;/ Incantation. AN INCANTATION. Down the rock-rift, when twilight was beginning, Twilight all cloudy and pale — Where hollow mists were twisting, writhing, spinning, Where lurked the midnight gale — Where whirling waves in ghastly exultation Leapt up, sucked in the rocks, reeled back in rout — She stooped and murmured mystic incantation — The fiery words flashed out. ' Roar, wild witch-caldron I seethe and wreathe and bubble ! This is at last mine hour ! Long have I wrought, and now I reap the double — Now I put forth my power. Fly hence, my whole desire, my passionate yearning, Forth to the far-off land — like flame be fleet! He surely ere another night's returning Lies abject at my feet ! ' Fill with strange summons all his startled senses, Swathe him in magic bands ; I have power to break down all his forts and fences. And bind him to my hands ! A 71 Incantation. 51 You who have scorned me, you who have spurned and hated, My vengeance now is ripe, my spell is cast — You only in all the world for me created, Know yourself mine at last ! ' Come ! for the cold waves foam in fierce convulsion, The black and hungry sea Cries out for you. Come ! by a blind compulsion Battling your way to me. I draw you, draw you, draw you from the distance — You have nor skill to flee nor hope to hide : No ruth in me, in you no frail resistance, Shall shut you from my side !' THE DESIRED HAVEN. I THOur.nT the time of love was past ; My golflcn sun was setting fast, Youth drooping like a rain-drcnchcd r