SEVEN STARS CLARE SHIPMAN GIFT OF SEVEN STARS AND OTHER POEMS By CLARE SHIPMAN JOHN J. NEWBEGIN SAN FRANCISCO M CM XVIII Copyright CLARE SHIPMAN San Franciico, 1918 TO HER IN THE INVISIBLE 385033 CONTENTS. PAGE FOREWORD vii TO HER IN THE INVISIBLE THE SUN 4 THE BLAZED TRAIL 6 ASCENSION 7 PEACE 8 MARCH FILIGREE 9 THE MOON 10 IN A TROPIC GARDEN 12 TO JULIE 13 MERCURY 14 SEA-GULLS IS THE DESTROYING ANGEL 16 FROM SEA TO SEA 17 VENUS 19 THE QUEST ETERNAL 20 VALENTINE 22 THE TORCH 23 THE HOMING PIGEON 24 DOGWOOD 25 MARS 26 IRIS 28 BALLAD TO FRANCE ....... 29 JUPITER 33 GOLD HEART 35 ON A PORTRAIT OF THE YOUNG EARL OF C . 36 THE ISLAND KING 37 CONTENTS. PAGE SATURN 38 TO MY POET FRIEND 39 LINES ON A GOLDEN WEDDING .... 40 THE BLANKET-MEN ON THE HIGHWAY ... 41 DUSK 42 DAWN 42 URANUS 43 PARADOX 45 THE CUP 46 INTEGER VITAE 47 NEPTUNE 48 THE GUEST 51 NAMASTA 52 UPLANDS 54 TO ANY GALAHAD 55 THE BEDOUIN IN THE DESERT .... 56 OUT OF THE MISTS 57 SEA VOICES 59 ALLEN SEELEN 61 SILENCE 62 MOUNTAIN LILAC 63 WILD FORGET-ME-NOTS 64 LOBELIA 65 CHELA 67 ST. JOSEPH S LILY 68 THE URGE 69 TO A LITTLE BOY GROWN UP 70 CHIMES 71 SONG OF CANDLE-LIGHT 72 TO BENNIE ON ST. PATRICK S DAY .... 73 SONG 74 TO MY COMRADE-AT-ARMS 75 vi FOREWORD. It seems at this time as if the world has swung around to the ancient language of symbols. We have always had them, indeed, but in process of time their spirits departed and left them as husks on our hands, and even prodigals in far countries of materialistic thought and conduct eventually lose interest in husks. The letter profits nothing without the quickening spirit. How many custodians of that sacred symbol, the square and the compass, are able to relate it inwardly to the soul of the race? Has the swing of the Gothic arch, or the color of Mary s azure cloak a living place in the life of the church adherent? Do attributes in his soul answer to the apocryphal signs of the Man, the Lion, the Eagle and the Bull, carved upon his altar panels? The forever defensive theologian does not often put into his discourse the esoteric lesson of the streets of gold, the gates of pearl, or, to go back to the old dispensation, of Egypt, Moses s rod, the Red Sea and Canaan. But these things, as the wise Paul said of some other things, "are an allegory." Truth shines her light upon friend and foe alike and needs neither defense nor argument. The cobra cap of the Buddha may reveal the same truth as the serpent of Egypt, and the Lotus upon which he dreams, the ineffable message of the Easter lily. Back in the ancient days of inner wisdom there came flashes of understanding revealed in myths, legends, fables and fairy lore. The Devas of the Hindoos, the Daimons of the Greeks, the Divinities of the Romans and the Angels of the Hebrews all prove the groping of the soul of the race of mankind to connect with its source, or with the abstract, hidden realm of the Spirit. vii The subconscious streams of tradition came out of a fundamental truth of being, that the changeless Infinite and indivisible Source, being a Unit, forever expresses itself in diversity and is equal to the sum of all its at tributes. The poems on the planets are written with the basic idea that each individual is a microscopic pattern of the universe, and that within him, potentially or expressed, is all that lies without. The ultimate destiny of the race-man is to bring into expression, through evolution, the Grand Man, the Universal or Christ principle, God Incarnate in the Son. The sun, the center of the solar system, being the source of all life, is the outer sign of the invisible God, the image, as it were, by which the sun worshipper hoped to connect with his source. In the life of the individual, the sun would be the Son, the Soul, the Self. The moon, called by the ancients the "mir ror," would be the outer or objective mind or intellect, having no light or wisdom of its own, but reflecting merely the one mind, "common to all men." Mercury is the inner or intuitive faculty of mind which would seem apart from reason, flying where it will upon its spirit wings. Its truth is ever consistent with reason, but its source deeper. Venus is that qual ity of grace in Man s soul which discerns and compre hends the beautiful, and so brings order out of chaos, turning angles into the rhythmic curve which is receptive, subjective and feminine. Mars is her opposite pole in consciousness, the warrior, the masculine creative prin ciple, passionate, bold, the positive and constructive in art, when functioning in his true place. viii Jupiter, magnanimous and benign, is also diffusive, expansive, generous and the dispenser of good gifts, holding good luck in his right hand. Saturn in the Cos mos corresponds to the outer realm of the physical and is called the "first born" because farthest in expression from the center. Also he is called the guardian of the outer gate, the ruler of the world of matter, standing with scythe and hour glass at that mystical point where cause and effect meet. He is seldom loved or wel comed because he is the law, the Reaper. Old, fixed, slow of movement, because first born, he is, in the indi vidual, Destiny. He releases through the outer gate that initiate only who is strong enough to be at one with him and know his majesty. Uranus and Neptune are of but recent discovery and would seem to be prophetic of new faculties of mind to come. Uranus is the power of occult discernment and is called the Knower, the unveiler of Truth. Its action is to tear away delusions at any cost, and remove hindrances to spiritual growth, no matter how dear the false gods have become. The throne of Uranus is at that point in understanding where opposites meet and are seen to be one. Neptune stands for the hidden Christ, or Sonship un- manifest. It is nebulous in character and not understood of the world, like the subtle overtones of the music of sweet strings, vague and uncomprehended by the material mind. Folded within its character lie all the secrets of the mystics of the ages. All qualities, normally expressed, are good. Only when they are deflected or disproportioned may they appear, to surface analysis, evil. Through the under standing of true values, the laws of balance, as applied ix to consciousness, the primal edict which pronounced all things very good, shall manifest. The seven planets have been compared to seven lamps swinging forever before the sun god s throne, or to the seven prismatic rays, which, when combined, form the white light of the sun and are never really apart, save in expression, but each an attribute of the One. This One is All. I am no pagan or pantheist setting forth false gods, but recognizing merely that through the understanding of our own complexities and qualities we may, through consecration of will, evolve and unify them and so stand forth as Sons, not servants in bonds. The miscellaneous poems in this book are grouped under the heads of the planets which they seem to man ifest in quality. r Q \^* d. San Francisco. SEVEN STARS o TO HER IN THE INVISIBLE. MOST beloved, how is it possible The heart of me should feel that I have lived Ever one hour without you, Into whose life my life was woven at first As but a tiny leaf in a design! How could the woof remain with warp withdrawn? You have not gone! You have not gone, since I would cease to be. You, you and I were threaded firm and close, Into the fabric Life! Back in the dawn of days your face was there, One with the sunrise; One with soft coverlids in the cool dark. The last sound of the day some trailing note Of your low-singing voice in the white sails Of drifting sleep. Unchanging love has not forgotten how The fine, white sinew of yourself you wove Into the little buttonholes, and edge Of sheer and misty garments that I wore, And how you smoothed and folded them away Under the lamplight of the ended day. Only through your eyes did I see at first The sombre beauty of red autumn leaves Wet with October rain, The bitter-sweet solemnity of pain, 1 Or the joy-thrill of rising sap astir In the moist trunks of maples when the world Believed that it was locked in winter-time. The watchful tenderness and thrift that kept Glowing with bloom the little, even row Of growing things upon the window sill, that, I hear you laugh when I have said That diligence, I never made my own. You took so sweetly all my wayward faults That must have wounded deep, had you loved less. 1 would not wrong your unchained spirit now With thoughts too sad, which was so often glad As larks and linnets and bright butterflies, With thoughts that played like sun-darts on the face Of mountain streams. The rush of rain upon the roof at night I hear now, even in sleep, because you loved The rhythm of the rain. All, all you lived and loved and felt made glow For me the hidden song that latent lies In everything, like the internal fires Within the breast of Earth. Until I too, caught fire with that divine And nameless thing which lit you, Incarnate as the poetry of life. And then your selflessness opened wide arms And let me free upon my own far-faring. If I kept faith with Courage on the way It was the loaf of truth you shared with me On which I fed my strength as with the fire Of your strong spirit. If I have learned the magic of Love s way It is your deathless love loving again. Did you not give your all, and is it strange Passion for service, urge of high endeavor Should break to flame, when fire is touched by fire? And so it is impossible for me, Most dearly loved, to think I ever live One little hour without you, who have been, With strong hands and true voice, this long time still. All I shall build and bind and hold of good, Is yours to take again because you gave Life infinite, good indivisible, This, most beloved, your immortality. JANUARY, 1916. o THE SUN. The Sun of Righteousness shall rise, with healing in His wings. GOD OF PERFECT DAY, shine on our sorrow As on the seven swinging spheres you shine! We wait, as Thou hast waited, for a morrow That still must glow, on every world of Thine. Rise swift in us, who let the night possess us! Before our tomb stands sealed the graven stone. Though long the night of ignorance oppress us, We are Thy sons, and Thou art God alone. O teach us life who art the One Life only! The meaning of its sacramental flame, And that we have a heritage of Christhood, And that we wear, e en now, Thy Holy Name! Though we forget Thee, yet there broods Thy patience; We curse and slay, and still Thy love endures. O God of Day, the world s pain is its penance; Then guard and keep them, whom the darkness lures! The sweet and sunlit, fragrant earth Thou gave us We ve bought and sold, and dyed and drenched it red, And Thou alone hast any power to save us, Who let each other perish, wanting bread! We know, yea, God, we know that there are children Born in the flesh, of Thee, a tragic brood, Wearing our life, and Thine, the common Father, Who never know Earth s tender motherhood! Hunted they go, and by the wolf of hunger, Blurred with sin s fingermark, unloved, misspent. We meet them on the highway, God of Mercy, And pass them by, our own, and we consent! What is our solace, but that Thou art mighty! To Thee, worlds come and go as human tears, And live and crumble, stars to dust returning. Thy light is on the seven swinging spheres! LA JOLLA, JULY 31, 1915. i THE BLAZED TRAIL. SAW the sun go down, go down, To walk the purple sea. Wearing a shining, glorious crown. About his head a glow like One Who walked on Gallilee. A milk-white cloud his seamless robe, Woven of drifting fleece. A moment on the ocean s rim He floods the world with peace. I saw a molten trail of light, His path upon the sea. As gleaming down the Ages* night, The feet of One flash burning-bright, Through Man s mortality. ASCENSION. THERE is no hour the soul may close its sight To life unbroken, for when action ends It is as if one note the player spends Is caught into the next, where motives rise And so repeat themselves an octave higher. Only the foolish halt and think work done. Nothing is finished, every thread leads on, And though the weak may fight, the strong may tire, The bright wheel swings, with all its gleaming stars, Nor life nor death, free wing nor prison bars Have power to stay the rhythm of its way. Inviolate Life ascends till themes repeat, High, in clean, wind-swept towers of past defeat, Chiming, as morning stars sing of the day. T PEACE. OSSING cypress boughs, Black, tasseled cypress boughs And fringed willow, With tender leaves of pale, translucent light, And flowering currant, lovely burning bush, Ablaze with God, Here on my periwinkle bed Smelling fresh stems and leaves, I let my soul slip out and walk The waters of this still lagoon, Trailing her garments of sweet peace, Singing her praise for this brief hour Of sunlit silence, where Love lives, And perfect rhythm. Only the winds are restless, Flinging a chill like bright, quick laughter. But close against the earth breast There are fortitude and warmth. The glowing, steadfast pulse of faith beats high. Somewhere within the inner realms of God, Well-being rests her tranquil arms Upon her mother-breast, And guards the world from its own fallacies. 8 o MARCH FILIGREE. SILVER world of silver light! O new day, fresh, unspoiled and fair! Grasses are woven crystal lace, West winds sway jeweled boughs in air. O blinding light on snow-filled meadows White fields stretch to the osage hedge, Swaying its top to icy music. A red bird calls above the sedge. Sheathed cherry boughs in shining armor, A flash of wings across the blue, To gem-tipped briar and grassy tangle, With silver thread all woven through. Warm courage in the robin s breast, For frozen worlds, a moment long. Trumpeter of sweet April-time, He flings his prophesy of song. o THE MOON. LIGHT O* LOVE, O little feather moon, Pale as white roses are. Flung in the harsh light of the summer noon Above the hill-tops far. Frail, and so light and thin, Tossed on the ocean sky, With no port to come in, With not a harbor by. O little vagrant moon, Fragile and useless thing, Tossed in a waste of worlds, Frayed from a passing wing. And now she wears a burnished silver band. Beauty hath found her as her days have grown. And in the youthful dreams of twilight land, She claims a vision which is not her own. Only in romance skies of make-believe, When the soft, velvet dark enwraps the soul, May borrowed light, masking as truth, deceive, As holy fire the false Prometheus stole. 10 And she is false if she shall claim to reign Even at the magic hour she climbs her height, The jeweled planets in her splendid train, Sweeping her royal pomp across the night. And she is true when she shall serving stand, Meek, girded hand-maid of the lowly soul, Holding all cleansed and empty in her hand. Rimmed to full circle, her bright, burnished bowl; Seeing before her face no path to tread But the white orbit of the sun god s way. Knowing no light but his upon her head, His sea of silver, from her chalice shed, Until night s empty cup brims with the day. 11 N IN A TROPIC GARDEN. OT cold and distant stars, but close and warm As gleaming jewels upon a dear-loved throat, Such are the smiling stars above my Islands, Dipping their rays into the languorous waves That run upon the coral from the warm sea. Not moonlight cold, but a soft, liquid silver Dripping from tips of palm leaves, Flooding upon the garden, Pouring a silent glory and a glamor On the Soul, until it knows the face Of Beauty in her holiness laid bare. Spirit of Beauty Visible! Such is the face of God! And God walks in the garden in the coolness of the day, And time is not, nor age, nor hate, nor death. OAHU, 1917. 12 TO JULIE. JIKE petals of white roses, Soft footprints in the snow, Or spray of early starlight, Or surf with light aglow. Like breasts of tender winged things, Or sheen of frost-spun lace, Come memories and memories Of moonlight on your face. The cool, sweet rush of palm leaves, Strange shadows on the grass, Beyond, the waiting desert, The blue night swinging past, The hush of waning summer, Warm frankincense of bloom, I build of these, for memories, A vast and vaulted room. 13 H MERCURY. ALF god and half mortal I seemed, And the mortal was craven, and veered At the vast of the unknown abyss. The granite is sound to the feet of the mortal, And real is the Earth-mother s kiss. It was the unknown that I feared. The Lord of my being did promise me wings Should I leap from the lap of strong, external things, And I dared, and the God bore me up with his arm, And I flew in the wide, windy sky! As the light of the star and the glow-worm is one, The flame at the heart of the atom went free, Unchained to return to its home in the sun, Self-conscious, to choose and to be! No darkness dismays him who flames his own light. I make the abyss to appear as the height. I speed, and the span of my God-given flight Binds the earth to the Spirit of things. I flash in the glance, of pure, star-lifted eyes, I swing with the fairness and grace of the morn. To my penetrant sight matter s veil of disguise Is rent and man s freedom is born. 14 D SEA-GULLS. O YOU remember how they drifted out Into the wide infinity of sky, Without a quickened tremor of the wings, Free of their moorings, brave and silently? Do you remember how they drifted out From the black cliffs, into the rain and mist, Above the fretted sea, so safe, so high, Their flight unmeasured, pathless and unguessed! 15 THE DESTROYING ANGEL. A RROWS of light, arrows of light! **These are the shafts that I hurl through the night! Straight as the archer s eye wooeth the mark, Swifter than meteors piercing the dark. What power shall stay their miraculous flight, Arrows of infinite light! Measureless gleams from the Spirit s white ray, These are the beams that I speed through the day! Sure as the wings of the morning arise, Strong as the light on the dreamer s closed eyes, What flesh shall bar the Omnipotent beam, Smiter of pain s troubled dream! 16 FROM SEA TO SEA. *URZY glens and brooks and maples, Beech tree forests, still and sweet, With their golden garments fallen, Airy skirts, about their feet, Stacked corn like brown wigwams standing, Feathered broom-sedge, fallow field, Shafts of light through slanting orchards, Stripped of summer s fragrant yield. Cotton fields and young pine forests, Still, deep rivers, silver rain, Live oaks green and strong and vital, And the flaming sun again. Bayous and the night-black cypress, Woods knee-deep in crystal pool, Trailing lichens fringed and lace-like, Cloth of gold and shadows cool. Sunrise through the waiting tree-trunks, Velvet plains of springing wheat, Resting orchards, feeding cattle, Where the sky and grasses meet. Brown, parched plains, repeating over Thirst, to the unanswering sky. Swift the wild hare s run to cover. And the white stars going by. Shadows in the purple canyons, And the white light on the trails. 17 Free the wind, the cloud, the distance, Clear the rhythm of the rails! Down the long sides of the mountain, Where the firs wear purple light, Deep into the forest vistas Till the hiding, folding night. Plains of green and fenced-in cities, Pungent scent of pepper tree, Swift as wind clouds I am running To the sea, Love, to the sea! And the world Love s wings encompass, Mountain, river, forest, plain, Lies within your strong heart s cover. Back to you I come again! 18 A VENUS. RT THOU but flesh of pearl, the tint of shell, Form perfected, born of the formless sea? Revealed and visioned side of abstract Love, The thing men blind adore, or hating flee? Wear you at times a strange and sordid guise Woven of misery and cankering lust? The prisoned Self within your languored eyes, As lilies bruised and broken in the dust. O Beauty, Color, Form, the senses leap! But the still, brooding Spirit answers thee As though the Deep had called unto the deep To yield its dead and set its prisoners free. O Love, thine arms but lure the soul at last Adown the spiral of swift-winging years, And point the inner portal, strong and fast, Which opens when one Guest alone appears. The heart is made into an open sky. Beyond the realm of good and evil things, And joy and tears, glowing and lifted high. One stands, where slow the silver crescent swings, Her gleaming head all diademed with stars, Her azure cloak wrapping the gaunt earth s scars. 19 B THE QUEST ETERNAL. To G. M. W. EAUTY Divine, so long we have pursued! See how the vanquished, stricken Ages lie. Lamenting in their ashes, spent and old, Where open, empty arches frame the sky. So brief your reign, so swift your passing by. Your radiant hour, departing, left them cold, Save for a dear caress upon old walls, Or saffron sunlight, wrapping where it falls Some crumbling column, turning it to gold. Still down your age-long corridors we come, Pursuing eagerly your fleeting pace. Beyond a bend of vistaed colonnade Longing to glimpse your sweet, averted face. Ever within your labyrinths of peace We trace with broken ray your fragrant lure, Braving the gulfs of barrenness and dearth, With hearts afire, with footsteps winged and sure. Until a sudden, holy light shall flame Out of a vaster height, a loftier span, Piercing at last our holden, straining sight, Revealing you within the heart of Man. And we shall see you plainly through the mire Of that which binds and covers tender things. Above the place of effort meekly spent, Shall know the brooding presence of your wings. 20 And when you reach to us a hallowed hand, Shall we not feel it work-worn flesh and bone? Your broken guise shall fall and you shall claim Our weary questing, even as your own. Beauty Divine, Eternal One who lies Wistful and fair, in the pursuer s eyes, Yet shall we feel the glow of your embrace, Yet shall you turn and know us face to face. Looking through Exposition Arches. JANUARY 10, 1916. 21 VALENTINE. F\EAREST, are wind-flowers glad when melts the snow? -^When Winter comes do swallows southward go? Do roses scent the drowzing days of June? When the leaves fall do robins hush their tune? Do winter woods long for their leaves again? Do thirsty flower-lips drink the Summer rain? Do prisoned moths crave wings of butterflies? Do meadows smile when daffodils arise? And if you know the answer, Love of mine, Would I, O would I be your Valentine? 22 THE TORCH. RUST you to Love and never think to fear him. Follow you close the light of his white flame. The trail is safe, his lamp is trimmed and burning. Hold you the password of his Holy Name. Love s lamp is filled with smokeless oil of gladness. Love holds his beacon high when hearts are true. Trust Love, the trail is safe, the way is shining. Believe in Love, who burns the light for you. 23 THE HOMING PIGEON. k HOMING pigeons wing them home Straight to your roomy heart I come! And you dream not how very far, Unbounded by the farthest star, Such love as yours can stretch away, Out to the borders of the day, Beyond the purple fringe of night Wings love like yours so warm and white! It wraps me in a robe of fleece, It makes the sound of heart-storms cease. As homing pigeons wing them home, Straight to your roomy heart I come. 24 M DOGWOOD. ILK-WHITE spray on the forest bough, The fragrant year is young. White hearts touch beneath the bloom, Eagerly Love s feet seek room Anemones among. Blithest notes blow down the wind. The nimbus of the spring Folds the forest glade in mist, Emerald and amethyst, Sweet and shimmering. White spray on the forest bough, White stars of the world, Lift Love into silent things, The only sounds are stirring wings And new-born leaves uncurled. 25 MARS. ,\ NGEL of Action, god of all brute strength, **Master of souls, snared on the sea of Sense, Caught in thy maelstrom of malevolence, Shall they an harbor find, Beaten and blind? As every whirling storm hath one still place At its true center, so within me lies Unslumbering, the calm of watching eyes, As One who moves upon the waters face. Call me then friend, whose fires have fused the stone, Mountain and furrow, strong, creative One! My shining armor and the splendid gleam Of mailed arms, streamers of red desire, Flashing upon the weak and strong alike, But kindle life to sacramental fire. Call me then mighty friend, nor name me foe. Take of my strength and meet me as mine own, Lest I with the destroying angel s blow Shall smite thee, flesh and bone! 26 Children of Mars, be swift to flame the light Of Knowledge, pouring in the oil of peace, Whose touch transmutes red watch fires to clear white. Like leaps across to like, till wars shall cease. Above your towers and battlements shall fall Clear showers of starlight and pale, dreaming skies, Breathing of flowers shall bathe your fevered eyes Till swift they sense the One who lives in all, And weighted flesh on free, glad wings shall rise. 2/ w IRIS. HEN May and June have linked their petalled fingers Across the garden, and the year is glad, Down where a butterfly or gold bee lingers, And lilac scent has made the air half sad, There rise from out the midst of spear and sword blade, The banners of the lily maid of France, As once they floated from her battle standard, Unrent by arrow point or spear or lance. The white flag is the banner of her white heart, The purple mourns her death, the shame of kings, When men forget the martyred, broken body, A flower shall droop its silken, petal wings. The gold flag is the shining of the glory Emblazoning her name, immortally. The white, the purple and the golden banners, Earth lifts each year to her sweet memory. 28 T BALLAD TO FRANCE. HE air is soft as willow buds. How cool the shadows play! How sweet, how sweet, O tender Christ, The wonder of the May! The clover breath, the poplar wind, How spirit pure are they! Such dreams, they weave a pennon To the wonder of the May! Such dreams they are so heaven-true. They build a portal wide Into the upper airs of God Where mysteries abide! They build a magic portal, Where a sudden shaft shines through. The light is gleaming golden On the leafage and the dew. O tender Christ, how wonderful The marvel of her brow, And wrapt the eyes that meet the light That gleams the meadows now! 29 How petal-white the little breast Under the dull-spun fold, As veiled things the angels keep For pure eyes to behold! How like still forest pools her eyes, And clear and sure their look, And swift and glad her serving feet As any singing brook. And who shall speak how soft, how fine The tender heart of her! The sheep and little lambs she kept, Less meek and lowly were. Less soft and winter-white their fleece Than all her gentle mind, And the white prayers of fragrant peace It winged upon the wind! O wings of great archangels, How fervid bright your sheen! No self is intercepted God and her soul between. You may ascend and descend The shining, glorious stair Built of her prayers, built of her thoughts Because they are so fair. 30 Voices of great archangels, You sound as true and clear As larks of her own meadows The peasant children hear. Give of your strength, give of your might Since you have made the quest, And guard and keep the frailness Of the tender brow and breast. The ways of men and wars are harsh. The clasp of silver mail, Could bruise a lily bud to death, As petals droop and fail. She is a snow-white, climbing rose Whose tendrils touch the sky. Upon the city wall the rain Of steel has passed her by. The hail of spears has fallen And hell has blown its breath! O God the awful pity Of the blood and pain and death! God s be the glory for the might Of truth and purity! How different is the blackened night From Spring in Domremy! 31 And none are brave who are not pure. Only the meek are strong, Undying in a world of death The endless ages long! Swings high her lily banner. Beckons her lifted lance, Above her unforgotten fields. Somewhere in bleeding France. AUGUST, 1914. 32 i JUPITER. "I have made thee rich. Why makest them thyself poor?" BLAZE my light upon their battened door, They neither see nor rouse them from the sleep That drugs the flesh, wrapped in its rags of sense, Nor heed how I, my flaming vigils keep. Their roots are struck in clay, on husks they feed, Consumed of heartbreak, mad with discontent; Heaven-clear my beacon burns above their need. Into their depths my silver light is sent. There is a vision far and far beyond The place of pity, where I flash my rays. pity that they brought the blight of greed, And lost their vision of the living springs Which press their low, half -whispered want to feed. They have reared bulwarks out of self and sense, Out of the sands of unredeemed desire. Their children hate, and live with bitterness. Upbraiding Justice prisoned in the mire. 1 wait for him who says "I will arise, * Unfolds the wrappings from his splendid soul, And washes clean the clay from his blind eyes, And out of matter lifts a treasured goal. 33 I wait for this birth-hour which shall reveal The firmament beneath his body s cloak, Wherein I glow, a deep-set, buried jewel, As acorns wrap the branches of the oak. When he shall cease to blame the sting of want, The stain of squalor and the cramping grind Of drudgery, and all the outer cause, And in himself my gleaming beauty find, Lending his lowly roof, breaking his crust to share* Knowing the thrill of service meekly given, My light shall burn its way through all his bonds And bind him to the morning star of heaven, And be the touchstone in himself revealed, A saving arm its level, lightning beam, Pouring all lasting riches in his hands, Who wakes from out his heavy, earth-bound dream. 34 o GOLD HEART. LITTLE sister Gold Heart, Of tender witchery, I long ago had lost the fight Had you not trusted me. You speak the name of Courage And I am strong as ten. You only hint you love me, I rise like fighting men. You only point a narrow way Straight as the Christ-man trod, And flaming forth, a blinding ray Connects my mind with God. O little sister Gold Heart Out pouring all your gold, Life guard you and return to you Your own gifts manifold! 35 ON A PORTRAIT OF THE YOUNG EARL OFC . WEET as the prince in books of fairy tales, With the far look of child dreams in your eyes, What do you see of valorous deeds to do Under your English skies? Terror of dragons, moats impassable, Wrongs of the weak and innocent to right, Have these all passed into the yesterdays With sword and belted knight? Most fairly fashioned and made beautiful With such sweet youth, what valorous deeds to do, What wrongs to right with all the princely grace Life has bestowed on you? SHAWINIGAN, QUEBEC, 1903. 36 THE ISLAND KING. WREATH on your head of ilima and maile, The rain on your face, in your throat a soft song, A laugh on your lips, in your heart the aloha, A gift in your hand as you wander along. O big, kindly child of your laughter-lit islands, You dance in the light and you play in the sea, Who have given your kingdom away to the stranger, To win an inheritance greater than he. Majestic and beautiful child of the chieftains, With nothing of earth and the bearing of kings, So happy, so tragic, care-free of tomorrow, The gold s in your heart as you sing to your strings. HONOLULU, JANUARY 27, 1917. 37 SATURN. J LOW-MOVING, quiet one, take my offered hand And lead the way, for I am friends with thec. Reaper inexorable, since I have brought A fearless heart, unveil thy face to me! Thy cheeks are furrowed with the Ages tears. Scant share you give of love, your step is slow. Subduer of the Soul, how many shun The realm you rule of buffeting and woe! But only grant me this, O you who reap What is already sown of love and hate: Grant I may bear with me a lifted torch, Cold Guardian Angel of the outer gate. A light for dying hopes that else were blind, Out where they thirst and faint, and fight and fall; A light to pierce the dark ways of the mind On some strong stanchion of the outer wall ! It is not pity that a strong heart asks, Knowing that thou, the Reaper art the Law, And that each weaver must his separate tasks, But grant the light to see the pattern s flaw! 38 o TO MY POET FRIEND. (W. L. S.) I WAS young, and you seemed very old! You wore a silver crown and mine was gold. You thought me fair and sweet, I thought you wise. We looked at life through very different eyes. My feet were winged and yours were halting slow When we went roaming where the violets grow. And well we knew the place the wind-flowers blew, And every May your old heart blossomed new, And all its little, lilting songs were sung Perhaps because you felt that I was young. Now trenchant Time has tossed your quaint rhymes by Which no one ever cherished more than I, And since your too reluctant feet moved on, I have recalled you often, being gone. And thought that since those new fields you behold, You now may be so young you think me old. 39 LINES ON A GOLDEN WEDDING. To Mr. and Mrs. Kenneth Melrosc. those whose lives are given to serve, There is no time. Days flow together like clear streams in summer. Or notes to music, or words that rhyme. Fair deeds and saving words what years can measure. Or time make dull? From such as these are coined Love s priceless treasure. For you made full. WTiat span shall mark the length of high endeavor. Or break its cord of gold? Those whom it binds to God s unveiled Forever, Faint not, nor yet grow old. 40 THE BLANKET-MEN ON THE HIGHWAY. GRAY as the dust through which they trudge, With steps as slow as the mind of man To wake to the crimes he daily lives Against himself. Stooped and bent as the warped ideal The whole mass has of its own dire need To lift the thing it spurns. Old, like man s inhumanity. Gray, slow and stooped and bent and old, The shadow-shape Always and ever there beside The flowering, fragrant fields, The gentle, patient spectre Treading the border of all happiness, To temper Love and Laughter, To dim the rays from Fortune s blazing cyei. SAN JOAQUIN VALLEY, APRIL, 1917. 41 A DUSK. ND no pale ember lights the dying day. Fear has unloosed her troop of shadow things. Yet who that has not sensed the dark shall say What peace the glowing dawn bears on her wings! DAWN. THE curtain, made of mist of dawn, Is pinned back with a star or two. Night flung a fleece-white carpet down. The vestal Day is passing through. 42 URANUS. Earth Voice: O magic star of conscious knowledge rise Upon our strange and variable world! What says the genius of your mystic light, Whose signals flashing on our drooping sight, Make visible the ray imperishable That binds and holds us to our home in God? The Star: I am the Knower in the sea of Light, Where varied streams of truth and wisdom meet; Where ebb and flood tide rhythmically swing To common center, being ever one. Look not for me in space, who fills all space Between the high, white stars, Nor wait for me in time, who knows it not. Within my glowing heart, I steadfast keep The covenant of Father with the Son This that you yet shall know as you are known; And faithful is the One who promises. My gift is that clear, self-revealed jewel, Set like a third eye in the seeker s forehead, The gift of undimmed revelation s light. "Dark Angel" am I called by the unknowing; They, who have built their gods and images Out of the dust of ignorance. 43 These, whom I love, I smite, and though I cleave Thy very soul and spirit, that which lives Is the Imperishable, Fire may not burn, nor water drown, nor evil blight. Swift chisel blows shatter the sculptor s stone. That his imprisoned angel may go free. Within the compass of my flaming sword, Whose blade is bathed in Light, lies Paradise. Look to thine heart if it be like the bloom Of lotus flowers unveiling to the sky. Petal by petal, waxen like with prayer, And at the center, gold of Love Divine, Fused in the driving flame of hallowed deeds. For such as these I open wide the way Into untroubled seas of open vision, Beyond the shore-line of the outer sense, A moment s journey back of quiet eyes, Where peace is born of Knowledge and of Truth. 44 PARADOX. O WEET is the valley wide and deep, ^ With scent of every growing thing. Beyond, the orchard armies climb, Green regiments maneuvering. Out there the redwood forests lie, And miles of solemn spires uplift. The sands behind stretch white and wan, Where breakers curl into the sky, And ships sail out to where the sun Drops down to light the Orient s face. Yet we, both you and I, know well There is no space! Looking out to sea from the heart of the Santa Cruz Mountains. JUNE, 1913. 45 A THE CUP. "Whether at Naishapur or Babylon, And if the cup with sweet or bitter run." Rubaiyat. ND fallen Babylon is sifted dust And Naishapur as rose-leaves blown away. To the strong hand that holds the weaving cord, A thousand years are even as a day. A thousand times has sweet life brimmed the cup, The cup been broken, and the wine been spilled, And patient love regathered it again, And with itself a new, fair vessel filled. Was it for this the dregs ran bitter rue, The leas brimmed red with measured joy and pain? That out of tested knowledge One should rise And sift the fragments and rebuild again! Is it for this, O Lover Infinite, The over-flowing cup of bitter-sweet, The spear-thrust, and the whole earth s travail pang, All drooping heads, all pierced hands and feet? Then out of memory of flame-white thought, Weave with all haste the holy samite veil, For eyes too used to twilight open wide To look upon the cup, and see the Grail! 46 o INTEGER VITAE. NE came to me with love-lit, flower-wreathed head, A face with shimmering laughter over-spread, A golden robe of youth, with blossoms wrought, All clasped with little jewels of idle thought. "You have forgot me soon," she whispered low. (She was my other self of days ago.) "You who loved love so, laughter, and the praise Of friendly eyes, and all the pleasant ways, Do you recall how blithe the meadows were, How cool the wood, the fern, the forest fir? Does beauty not rejoice you any more, That you forget me, and the days of yore?** (She leaned so close, the twilight shadows through, Her coaxing eyes wore mist, as violets, dew.) sweet idolater, you cannot see With the new vision Love bestows on me! The tenderness we shared in flower and leaf 1 seek now in the magdalen and thief. Caresses that we gave the meadow grass I save for all the weary ones who pass, And all the fragrances of hedge and lane, As blest anointing do I use again. You, who are less than shadow, count it true, Love forgets nothing which Love s spirit knew. This is my answer, wide I fling the door. Go, without bitterness, and come no more! 47 i NEPTUNE. KNOW a star that rises in the sea, Out of the East of unformed promises. Out of the East it glows translucently, Marking the point of light, of things-to-be. Fair, with the clearness of the crystal dew, The diamond s steel its living, vibrant blue, Its center blinding pure, as altar flame Glows when white nuns have said a nameless Name. If, as is said, its quivered beams shall fall Like silver arrows, far aslant the wall That holds the sandalled pilgrim to his way, His holden eyes were blinded by its ray. So there are stars whose strange, attenuate light Has not yet reached the earth-bound travellers sight. I know a star that moves with majesty Across the heaven s night of mortal thought, Glowing with fire of Love s persistency Above the lowliest place, men set at naught, Above the least discerned, unheeded place, It clothes the clay, and deifies its face. So does it rise upon the sea of woe, Treading the waves, leaving its path of light, As one whose garments make a trail snow-white Through murky, shadow places as they go. 48 It leads, O God, adown abysmal dark, Into the desert trail of loneliness, And vigil silences, all white and stark Where Strength is fused deep in the soul s recess. Whoever it shall shine its light upon, It is as if some strong, great, angel wing Had touched him, pointing sternly up and on, So that he can but heed its summoning. If he but see with slow, half-opened eyes The faint, pale nimbus of the outer rim, Straightway he must from his dull sleep arise. No more unthinking hours shall be for him. He must needs follow, and if he shall keep Some treasured evil, hidden still and deep, His star, straight piercing through the veil of sense, Shall sear to whitest ash, his poor defense. Its jealous, molten beam with light alone Transmutes to flame, that which is not its own. What of the caravan that follows thee, O risen light-bearer above the sea? Above the fretted sea of aims and fears Mortal delusions, unillumined years, The magi see behind the outer veil, And shepherd hearts still trace the hidden trail. 49 Beauty, frankincense of the Spirit s breath, Strong myrrh of faith to fold the face of death. Fused, molten gold of selflessness they bring To build the race of God whose light shall spring Full-glowing from the fervor of thy ray. Who sees shall heed, who feels shall yet obey. 50 i THE GUEST. MADE my heart into a silent thing. "Come, be you hushed, * I said, "of clamoring." There came such stillness, one could hear White spirits on the wing. Hidden in robes of light One draweth nigh. "Who comes?" "The Prince of power and peace am I." I ask of him what lowly entrance by. "Not flower-starred path or gate all garlanded Nor through the noise of thine heart s throng and press. The Ever-silent is to silence wed. I enter through the door of emptiness." 51 M NAMASTA!* ARVEL of God, how clean the Spirit in me Pierces my outer wrappings, and false seams To a white center, where there vivid glows Like light, translucent through the silken sheath Of leaf-buds newly born, the Self of you! O Love Divine, that even through human eyes, Can rend the sordid fabric, woven of lies And ghost delusions, till they yield at last Their thickened mesh, like shadow at white noon. So strong with living power your Spirit gleams That massive strength of body only seems A fragile shell beside it, And your shadow-self but a pale stranger Dwelling upon the threshold of your door. How often and how eager, serving hands Yearn to unclasp the outer garment s fold, Which, to your outer sense, would bind at times, And weigh like metalled mail. Yet eager hands, the while, must wait the Law, Which wraps the joyous lily in the earth, Until its own flame at its living heart, Shall burn its way through black and deadened husk, Into the lifted glory of its flower. *Hindu salutation: The Divine in me greets the Divine in thee! 52 Beloved, this your destiny! Even now The glory is upon us, that the Self Of me, which folds the prisoned lily close, The One who laid the snow on mountain crests, And called clear water out of desert springs, Looks on the Self of you, as in a glass, And knows the Eternal One. 53 UPLANDS. BELOVED, have we found the upland trail, Emerged at last from mist and shadowing hill? The God of destinies whose laws fulfill The ways of love, does that One not prevail? Strange journey, what though its beginning lay As far as some faint, distant-lying star, If it has come the open, upland way Where lifted eyes and certain knowing are! Look out and see the wide horizon s rim, Completed circle of the cosmic chain, Ocean s infinity and flower-lit plain And purple hills like clouds, float soft and dim. Beloved, have we found the upland ways, Fearless with vision, leaving realms below Like faint-remembered gardens of lost days, Where swooning-sweet, the mourning lilacs grow? Lost tints of dawn, shades of the sunset glow, Hold in the white light of the open sky. All loves are theirs, who may the Christ-love know, All pilgrim paths meet on the uplands high. 54 TO ANY GALAHAD. OUL, make you a distant journey, As one who fares alone? Seek you across the land, Beyond the sea, the Holy One? Look you, the seas are wide, my soul, The land is steep and far, And zeal would drive you out beyond, Where storm and tempest are. Heed you, and bide in peace, my soul. Stay you the journey s quest. E en now, within the ship there bides A sweet and silent guest. Halt then, the straining search a space, Turn you all joyfully. Close in thyself behold the One You fare so far to see. 55 THE BEDOUIN IN THE DESERT. GOD grant my soul and body may be white. Through darkness have I come with little strength, And I have found the way a weary length Fighting strange shadows, fearing in the night. Somewhere stretch peaks, where snow in summer lies. As wings of gulls unstained have kept their flight, As starlight filtering from winter skies Comes as white starlight to my dust-dimmed sight, So keep my soul upon its earth-marred way. I love Thy courts, though frail the love I bring. The tents of those who love Thee not delay My lagging feet, with foolish loitering; Yet with my little strength, ere it be spent, I lift my soul, Lord God Omnipotent! 56 OUT OF THE MISTS. I SEE things not as they appear, I hear the sounds that all men hear. As one in drunken dreams I rove, Yet with no power to change or move. Then call me as a trumpet calls A fainting soldier s laggard heart, And I will answer though I wrench The baffling walls of death apart. How long they sleep who lay them down Before the work of time is done! There is no hour for lives to break Between the dawn and sunset gun. Great God of universal things, Give me the life and will to work! Let me close up the gaping line, Forsake the shades where dreamers shirk. How long they sleep who sink to rest Before the hour of battle won, Tempted to have the brown earth s breast To lay the beaten head upon! 57 Yea, God of universal things, I no more care what world, nor crave The long, soft days, the purple seas, The slant of moonbeams on the wave, The coming of the early light And sights and sounds of sunlit day, The misty coolness of the night, The unforeseeing, human way. I have forgotten half I learned In tenure long of time and stress. Why did life put me numb asleep, Night blot the day s white loveliness? How long to wait the soul s release, And by what chance do epochs end? Shall any turn of strife or peace Bring out to me one saving friend? How dim and far the old way seems To one who waits and gropes so long, Dreaming his heavy, drunken dreams, Twisting the threads of right and wrong! The light flares faint, a smouldered spark, From out the long-gone world of things. Who was it went into the dark, I, or my world of wanderings? 58 i SEA VOICES. HEAR a thousand voices in the sea. The passing peace of crooning, cradle songs, Lost in the wild, free laughter of the child, Where slipping shallows, trill to opal pools. The sullen murmuring of souls at war With God, themselves and shifting destiny; Dull, futile anger, smiting at the shore, And hushed and soft, the whisper of the spray Brings lovers voices, undismayed, apart From world confusions, chafing at the heart. Sounds of soft crying, back of dreamers tears, Whose dreams go down to chaos, and the sharp, Half-stifled cry for freedom, in the Soul. Solemn, the Spirit s valiant battle-song Of evil conquered, flings its vibrant note. The deeps of blue, tender and infinite Cover the silent, never-spoken words Heard only in the souls of dear-loved friends. I hear a thousand, mingled voices blend Into one urging Voice, transcendent strong, Calling from out the depths of men and things, Out of the sea of change and restlessness, 59 Out of the fevered sleep of fear and stress, "I, I am in the midst of thee whose arm Holds and controls the ebb and flow of tides. Within thy chaos lies My rhythmic law Unbroken and uncheated of its end. 60 ALLEN SEELEN. HE yellow maples sift their golden leaves, October sunlight flames the woodland through. Bright grass but for a space has touched the hill And all the colors signal me of you. The wild rose by the spring s but tangled briar This is your path, the meadow brook beside, And then the sombre road a little way, And then, I see the gateway open wide. O yes, I know so well I shall not hear You laugh your welcome through the open door. My heart has learned, yet reaches searchingly. I know, and yet I turn for one face more. They have grown gentler since you went away, (Your step is O, so light they do not know The kiss you give me sweet and mistily, The sun upon your hair, your eyes aglow.) 61 SILENCE. HE fragrance of the garden every year Makes me remember, dear, The fragrance of your years and how you went With eyes unfearing, youth-days still unspent. The fragrance of the garden, and the note Of some leaf-hidden robin, in whose throat Are mingled joy and tears, remind me how You were so glad you are so silent now. 62 w MOUNTAIN LILAC. HAT see you adream on the mountain s breast, Than the hue of the dawn more fair? Little clouds adrift that the wind shall lift To fade in the April air? All shimmering pale as a wind-blown veil By a fleeing goddess worn, So silvery sweet the lilac bloom Lies caught in its tangled thorn. 63 w WILD FORGET-ME-NOTS. IILD, blowing things on the windy hill, Blithe in the fresh, spring weather, What did you say on a glad, free day When two friends came together? What are the words that I almost hear When the March-time comes each year? "Once we were blue with the heaven s hue, Growing brave, in the fresh, clean air, And the trail s strong light Turned us virgin white In its purifying glare." Sweet prophets, what counsel gave you to me When the noon beat high, and the wind was free? "Forget me not if the trail lead far Into ways where no star-faced flowers are. And gird you with wisdom and gird you with strength, If the trail have a sinuous, wearying length. The valley, mist-shadowed, leads out to a hill. Forget not the steadfastness faith must fulfill, And that once we were blue as the sky and the sea, And that now we are white as your soul longs to be. Rest not, with strong feet on the trail, face the light Till the blue-glowing flame in your lantern burns white." 64 LOBELIA. R AGILE, flimsy, spirit flower Burning out your strange, blue flame, It was in a dreaming hour That you came. Quivering, doubtfully you grew, Seeming not to understand, All the while enfolding you A divine, great hand. Planned it not a pleasant place? Love that lit, and warmed and fed, Faith that watered out of grace, Lavishly the garden bed? Lithe, mysterious, garden child, Flouting even love and faith, For the joy of growing wild, Fading like a misty wraith. Vivid, strange, evasive thing, Open out your monkish hood. Drink while faith is watering, Take the gift of love for food. 65 Bide within and light your fire. Angel feet may pass you by. While you wander, wilfully, What if love should tire? Winds are harsh when flowers are frail. What if faith should fail! 66 A CHELA. S Joseph s coat was wrought of many colors, As stars flash beams the banded prism through, As sun-darts glint the face of running waters. So gleams the spirit s varied light through you. Your world the hidden kingdom is, behind you. Infinite Hinterland of silent things. Abide in it until its Lord shall find you. Rise with the strength of steadfast, soaring wings. Treasure unnamed, unguessed, your hands shall gather. Your heart the source shall be of living springs. Your mind shall burn the straight, white beam of Knowing Into the crying, suppliant need of things. 67 ST. JOSEPH S LILY. LL of the light that sifts from stars and planets Upon the mountain s breast, the changeless snows, All of the gleams that flash from sails awinging, Thy spirit knows. All censer smoke before dim, virgin altars, All flame-pure thought, that swift shall vanquish death, Incense of praise, sweetness of singing children, Are in thy breath. All of the gold in deepest, hidden places, Or gleaming walls of Solomon have worn, Or fused in souls white crucibles of sorrow, Thy heart has borne. And never didst thou strive, the victory Is that fair peace held in thy lifted cup. In stillness has the spirit lit thy light. The mystery of love has raised thee up. 68 o THE URGE. 1UT of high vision. Substance of faith s prayer, And vigils only watching stars did see, One bid me work and consecrate and weave Something to set you free. Into the vigil and the faith and prayer I wove myself, and saw the fetters fall. Freedom forgets how soon the chafing iron, The leaden heart, the looming prison wall! One set you free although you could forget. The stars remember, vigil stars and I. And still One bids me work and weave and love. God knoweth why. 69 TO A LITTLE BOY GROWN UP. H ERE S to the sea-shore, "Alice" days When we talked about the whiting, The walrus and the carpenter And fairies, giants and fighting. Here s to the coming glorious days, Strong hopes and high endeavor. Colors to win, good faith to keep. Forever and forever! 70 i CHIMES. (Triolet) N the silent night-time, When the air is still, Then I hear the bells chime, In the silent night-time, Sounding like an old rhyme Sung across the hill, In the silent night-time When the air is still. 71 SONG OF CANDLE-LIGHT. w ITHIN me in a place apart, A cloistered corner of my heart, For you I keep a candle lit Whenever you shall turn to it. It is a still and steady flame That lights when I have thought your name. For you I keep a candle lit, And even though you turn from it, It glows the same, the same. 72 TO BENNIE ON ST. PATRICK S DAY. IN this land of no thatched roofs or fairies, That doesn t stay green very long, In the land that s way over the prairies, The love of a friend s just as strong. They say hearts are big in old Ireland, And perhaps on the whole it is true, But out in the land of the poppies, There s plenty of heart-room for you. 73 SONG. (To Kipikane) THERE is blazing light where your islands lie, And veils of cataracts cloudward fly, And the sunlight drenches the thick-meshed grass And the ships to the far east silent pass, And cocoa palms swing their signals high, Against the sky. The looming range, like a purple cloud, Shakes the rain and wind in the canyon loud, And the bow of the bended rainbow span, Joins the arc of God to the heart of man. And the silver plumes on the miles of cane, Stand tall in the sun, swing cool in the rain, They float on the wind as the feathered foam, And brown, bare feet go wending home, And bent backs rise from the taro patch, The nets hang wet by the fisher s thatch. The sky is a burnished copper bowl. The clouds ride through like the winging soul. The wind lies still and the stars gleam white. On the islands falls the night. HONOLULU, DECEMBER, 1916, 74 TO MY COMRADE-AT-ARMS. T ODAY I am in love with you, today * There s something in the tender, tilting sway, Of brooding branches, makes me also lean To touch you, as the leaves and winds caress. O sweet the lure, the lure that pulses through The clear, insistent call of linnets* throats, Such glad and plaintive notes, That brings me swift to cover Of your strong, clean heart, my lover. Today I am in truth in love with you. Tomorrow, God, tomorrow! Who shall say What symbol stalwart Destiny doth hold Half hidden in her muffled garment s fold. Is it a cross or scourge? Already she has beckoned, and we rise To face our work with undeluded eyes, Stung by the lash of all the Ages pain, Lit by a torch we know can never pale, Girded with armored faith in Right which lends Strength to endure, alone. O Love, may we not keep of this today Treasure and joyousness of all it holds? Or in relinquishment of that, our own, Do we attain to that vast world of Light Where every hungry heart is ours to feed? 75 Where every pulsing ardor shall be met With waters of that satisfying spring, Which, waiting lies so still in us today, And for tomorrow and her awful need, May widen to an ocean infinite. JULY, 1917. 76 L > 2l^t VB I 1 824 385039 UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA LIBRARY