LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
 MC-MRLF 
 
 533 
 
LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
 BY 
 GRACE FALLOW NORTON 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 
 CCbe Hitersibe press Cambti&oe 
 1912 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY GRACE FALLOW NORTON 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published February iqi2 
 

 To H. DE F. 
 
 255990 
 
"Une odeur d* ether un jour de soleil" 
 
In the winter of 1 903, a cold night and a colder 
 dawning sent girls shivering to their work in 
 the factories of an American town. Among 
 them Leonie X . . . , the still girl who never 
 told her name. She, frail as she was and weary, 
 slipped upon the icy pavement and fell. The 
 hurt proving dire, she was carried to a small 
 Franciscan hospital hard by, where she lay for 
 two years true to herself saying little with 
 her lips and much with her mournful eyes. 
 
 Here she wrote many " little letters to her 
 self," which were hidden beneath her pillow 
 and which the good Sister Jerome, who was 
 her sole nurse, lovingly preserved after her 
 death. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Flame beaten to ash xv 
 
 I. Here I lie like a princess i 
 
 II. Sister Jerome is very tired and she must 
 
 sleep 3 
 
 III. There be some that seaward roam 4 
 
 IV. Last night I had a guest 7 
 V. When I was a wee child 8 
 
 VI. If my dark grandam had but known i o 
 
 VII. Because white hands clasped white hands 1 1 
 
 VIII. O t was not they through whom I breathed 1 3 
 
 IX. What shall repay for waste of life 1 5 
 
 X. A great Injustice walks abroad 16 
 
 XI. And sometimes I have little dreams 17 
 
 XII. O sweetest dreams, I reach to you 20 
 
 XIII. The Sisters sing, "O Mary hear 21 
 
xii CONTENTS 
 
 XIV. Mary, Mother of Christ s body 22 
 
 XV. How long I ve lain below the Christ 24 
 
 XVI. Four gray walls, four gray walls 25 
 
 XVII. Sister Jerome, Sister Jerome 26 
 
 XVIII. The halls are full of strangers 29 
 
 XIX. This house of pain where we must dwell 3 o 
 
 XX. Nay, we are loads for them to lift 32 
 
 XXI. The Sister for her soul s white sake 33 
 
 XXII. I hear our Doctor s hard step by my 
 
 door 3 5 
 
 XXIII. There is a desert of despair 37 
 
 XXIV. Best I love Sister Jerome 38 
 XXV. O that it might be soon 40 
 
 XXVI. O far away, O far away 41 
 XXVII. What say 43 
 XXVIII. I would I might behold 45 
 XXIX. From the world beyond my window- 
 blind 46 
 
CONTENTS xiii 
 
 XXX. With cassock black, baret and book 48 
 
 XXXI. Bidden to lay my hands in Griefs 50 
 
 XXXII. They who this age of Pain have trod 5 1 
 
 XXXIII. O great Allayer of our pain 52 
 
 XXXIV. That day whereon I die they ll say 53 
 XXXV. Little Sister Rose-Marie 54 
 
 XXXVI. My life was too short for sinning 55 
 XXXVII. O the burden, the burden of love 
 
 ungiven 5 7 
 
 XXXVIII. This morn I cried: Now I will live 58 
 XXXIX. The Sister wears a long straight 
 
 gown 59 
 
 XL. Friend, thy page says "Pleasure" 61 
 
 XLI. I wondered, ever wondered 62, 
 XLII. O I have made for myself one whole 
 
 happy day 63 
 
 XLIII. My dearest, fairest hope 67 
 
 XLIV. I am all alone in my little room 68 
 
xiv CONTENTS 
 
 XLV. O Jesu, how my soul goes forth 70 
 XLVI. Came one who told of Death s white 
 
 steeds 71 
 
 XLVII. My little soul I never saw 72 
 
 XL VIII. But if my star of joy should call 74 
 
 XLIX. Out of my little prison-cell 75 
 
 O star of joy 78 
 
Flame beaten to ash by the too-fierce wind of a 
 
 day ; 
 Flower torn at the roots, ere noon-tide drooping, 
 
 gray ; 
 
 Flower of a singing soul, laughing flame of a 
 
 life- 
 But the laughter and song, where are they ? Lost 
 
 in that sore wind-strife. 
 
 Pray to the souls of men, ere the new day rises 
 
 in power, 
 Pray to the souls of men : " Forget not the fame 
 
 and the flower" 
 
LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
 i 
 
 Here I lie like a princess 
 
 All wound in white; 
 Lilies tall at my bedside, 
 
 For my delight ; 
 
 Hushed feet make in my chamber 
 
 Music for me : 
 Silence answers with phrases 
 
 Of her minstrelsy. 
 
 Who could be fairer than I am, 
 
 All wound in white ? 
 Who could be gladder of beauty, 
 
 And beauty s delight ? 
 
LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 O for the whiteness and fairness 
 
 But O, to be free ! 
 Pain has the key to my chamber : 
 
 He prisons me. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
 II 
 
 Sister Jerome is very tired and she must sleep ; 
 
 There is no other guard to keep, 
 And so the night must be watched through 
 with pain 
 
 Ah me, my sentinel again. 
 
 The pain is like a little flame within the 
 night, 
 
 A bright white sword, from it no flight . . . 
 Slow hours, unrolling dully, endlessly, 
 
 O say, when will to-morrow be? 
 
 In an eternity of dark and stillness strange, 
 Around and round with pain I range, 
 
 Remembering nothing fair. . . . There is no 
 
 way, 
 There is no path unto the day. 
 
4 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 III 
 
 There be some that seaward roam, 
 Adventurers of mere and main ; 
 
 They watch the wave, follow the foam. 
 
 There be those that hunt at home, 
 Adventurers of pain. 
 
 There be those that leave the vale, 
 
 And from the hearth-stone turn away, 
 Heart-homeless if their footsteps fail 
 Some houseless snowy height to scale, 
 Ere light dies with the day. 
 
 There be some would know the North, 
 
 And some would plant the desert-place: 
 Daily their feet are driven forth, 
 Their hands have measured the round earth 
 Adventurers of space. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
 And they that hunt at home that lie 
 
 Unhelped, alas, of near and far ? 
 O gulfs as great gather their cry, 
 And hosts as fair their victory 
 The seekers of the Star. 
 
 To leap to some sharp peak of pain, 
 
 To scream white-mouth d upon those 
 
 heights, 
 
 Transported by a truth made plain 
 From mad despair to wrest the rein 
 To delve in breathless nights 
 
 As they were mines of gold for men 
 
 Bravely to launch on each new day 
 A hope, wave-racked and wrecked again 
 To conquer through the fever-fen 
 Toward Death to lead the way. 
 
LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 O, there be some that seaward roam, 
 Adventurers of mere and main ; 
 
 They watch the wave, follow the foam. 
 
 There be those that hunt at home, 
 Adventurers of pain. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
 IV 
 
 Last night I had a guest : 
 
 Terror visited me. 
 To-day I lie dumb at rest 
 
 After my agony. 
 
 Where should he have his home, 
 That he be nigh to hunt me ? 
 
 Who are they naming his name ? 
 Live they morn s light to see ? 
 
 Grief and pain I have known ; 
 
 Now I am learning three. 
 Thou wast lacking Terror alone, 
 
 Of the grim Trinity. 
 
 Last night I had a guest: 
 
 Terror visited me. 
 To-day I lie dumb at rest 
 
 After my agony. 
 
LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 V 
 
 When I was a wee child 
 
 A-singing in the sun, 
 Came the knell, like a leper s bell, 
 
 Of the Fateful One. 
 
 In his mouth was hunger, 
 
 In his hand was want ; 
 There I shook beneath his look, 
 
 Bled beneath his vaunt : 
 
 u I am lord of bodies, 
 
 I am lord of souls ; 
 I am lord of half the horde 
 That die between the poles. 
 
 " I laugh at all the teachers 
 
 That have not taught of me. 
 I make the rules for all their schools- 
 My name is Poverty. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 
 
 " I laugh at all the nations 
 
 That have no thought of me: 
 For still their laws of me are cause 
 My name is Poverty." 
 
 When I was a wee child, 
 
 A-singing in the sun, 
 Came a knell, like a leper s bell : 
 
 T was the Fateful One. 
 
io LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 VI 
 
 If my dark grandam had but known, 
 
 Or yet my wild grandsir, 
 Or the lord that lured the maid away 
 
 That was my sad mother, 
 
 O had they known, O had they dreamed 
 
 What gift it was they gave, 
 Would they have stayed their wild, wild love, 
 
 Nor made my years their slave? 
 
 Must they have stopped their hungry lips 
 
 From love at thought of me ? 
 O life, O life, how may we learn 
 
 Thy strangest mystery ? 
 
 Nay, they knew not, as we scarce know; 
 
 Their souls, O let them rest ; 
 My life is pupil unto pain 
 
 With him I make my quest. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S n 
 
 VII 
 
 Because white hands clasped white hands, 
 And white arms wound white arms, 
 
 I m wandering through the wide world, 
 Driven by those same heart-storms. 
 
 Because white arms wound white arms 
 Must mine hang quivering, bare, 
 
 All fain to reach and clasp again 
 White arms again as fair. 
 
 Did they that clasped desire me ? 
 
 no, t was heart on heart, 
 
 J T was lip to lip and life for life 
 Now living is my part. 
 
 Did they that loved stand awed at 
 
 My masked inheritance ? 
 They laughed and called the echo . . . 
 
 1 am a child of chance. 
 
12 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 Children of chance we wander, 
 Possessed by those who gave 
 
 The undesired, unthought, unsought 
 The life that we must save. 
 
 They asked for one another : 
 Blind Nature grimly hurled 
 
 A soul out through their gates of love, 
 To walk their weary world. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 13 
 
 VIII 
 
 t was not they through whom I breathed 
 That laid alone the spell ; 
 
 Behold the people of our land 
 Live but to buy and sell. 
 
 To buy and sell they call it life; 
 But I had gifts to give ; 
 
 1 said, " O let me give my gifts, 
 
 Thus only may I live." 
 
 But I must sell my gift of gifts, 
 
 And I must buy again, 
 And fierce is traffic, fierce as war, 
 
 And numbers too its slain. 
 
 I had so much to give to life, 
 
 But when my gift was sold, 
 Came those who measured my heart s blood 
 
 Into their cups of gold. 
 
i 4 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 They trade in life ; we that would live 
 Fall Death s heirs in that strife. 
 
 O what is there they buy or build 
 So dear as would be life? 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 15 
 
 IX 
 
 What shall repay for waste of life ? 
 
 What shall repay for pain ? 
 O what shall give the land its food 
 
 If the young wheat have no rain ? 
 How shall the reaper call it good, 
 
 If trampled it hath lain ? 
 
 O what shall give the land its men 
 
 If children fight its wars, 
 If youth to the market-place they bring, 
 
 And man his manhood mars 
 To give some king a golden ring, 
 
 Or his lords their gilded stars ? 
 
16 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 A great Injustice walks abroad, 
 
 Unchained, unterrified. 
 
 Who shall rejoice beside 
 The poison of his dragon-breath, 
 The early blight, the daily death, 
 
 (Behold, thus have I died). 
 
 A great Injustice walks abroad, 
 
 And makes the strong more strong, 
 Until the hurt, whose song 
 I sing, shall learn their hidden strength, 
 And healed by hope, arise at length, 
 And rend the ancient wrong. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 17 
 
 XI 
 
 And sometimes I have little dreams, 
 Faint and fair and far away ; 
 With them I play. 
 
 dare I tell 
 
 Of the ones I love well ? 
 
 1 love most the unreal, 
 The never-to-be. 
 They cry to me, 
 
 "Little sister, can you not feel 
 How it is with us 
 Wandering, squandering thus 
 All our sweet beauty, 
 And, never, never to be ? " 
 
 O yes, I best can feel 
 
 You, the unreal, 
 
 For you are me ! 
 
 Me, and all that I may not be. 
 
i8 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 Strong I am and straight and fair, 
 Strong and long and gold my hair, 
 
 (This doth but seem, 
 
 It is my dream). 
 And I dance 
 
 (I who may not turn 
 
 So for motion yearn) ; 
 I advance 
 
 And slowly whirl till all 
 The things on round earth s ball 
 Slowly whirl with me. 
 And I am beautiful and free, 
 And the world is my garden, 
 For my growth and for all men. 
 
 Little poignant joy-dreams come 
 
 (Never to be, 
 
 Never to be); 
 Some have lips of love and some 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 19 
 
 Laughing faces, tiny hands 
 
 Such sweet things bloom in dream-lands. 
 
 Never to be, 
 
 Never to be, 
 
 But who shall take from me 
 Dream-dance and dream-bliss, 
 Dream-clasp and dream-kiss ! 
 
20 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XII 
 
 sweetest dreams, I reach to you ! 
 You fade, you fail, you were not true. 
 
 Back from my lovely dream-garden, 
 
 1 m sent to seek the real again. 
 
 The real here in my little room 
 A red, red rose of pain doth bloom, 
 
 A red, red rose of pain doth glow, 
 And it is real and all I know. 
 
 A wild, wild poison-rose of pain, 
 That I must tend in vain, in vain. 
 
 Whose hand should plant the burning rose ? 
 O my seared soul who knows, who knows ? 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 21 
 
 XIII 
 
 The Sisters sing, " O Mary hear; 
 Sweet Mother, intercede. 5 
 But Jesu s mother does not heed: 
 
 She has been dead this many a year. 
 
 The Sisters sing, " O Mary hear, 
 Thou who art Motherhood." . . . 
 The dumb earth spawns her struggling brood 
 
 To waste, unnumbered, year by year. 
 
22 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XIV 
 
 Mary, mother of Christ s body, 
 
 I have no songs to sing to thee; 
 
 The long, long years for thy grief s rack : 
 
 Mine eyes turn forward and not back. 
 
 The long, long past from thee to me 
 Is full of mothers misery, 
 And griefs of girls and Stranger Sons 
 The long, long hope before us runs. 
 
 The incense they have burned to thee, 
 O puzzling strange it is to me : 
 Slaughter of sons in thy son s name, 
 And motherhood turned to maiden s shame. 
 
 Mary, mother of misery, 
 Here I give thanks girl that I be 
 No son of mine shall drain the cup 
 That Jesu s hand hath rilled up. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 23 
 
 (Here I give thanks girl that I be 
 O the young torn heart of me ! 
 Branch at the window telleth of Spring : 
 My body hath no burgeoning.) 
 
 O will-less, mute Maternity 
 (Mary, mother of slavery). 
 No link I be in the long, long chain 
 Of human sighs and human pain. 
 
24 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XV 
 
 How long I ve lain below the Christ 
 That hangs upon the wall, 
 
 His suffering o er my suffering : 
 Was his indeed for all ? 
 
 Ah me, the weary, weary hours 
 
 So slowly by us file, 
 And not yet has the sad Christ learned 
 
 As I have learned to smile. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 25 
 
 XVI 
 
 Four gray walls, four gray walls, 
 
 One green window-space ; 
 Four gray walls high up on one 
 
 The crucifix has place. 
 
 Four gray walls, four gray walls, 
 
 Ere the eye can trace, 
 Past the high-hung crucifix, 
 
 The window s green leaf-lace. 
 
 " Four gray walls, four gray walls 
 O the four-square grayness palls 
 
 Of my prison-space ! 
 Dying Christ be thanked for 
 
 One green window s grace. 
 
26 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XVII 
 
 Sister Jerome, Sister Jerome, 
 Come take my white hot hands, 
 
 For I would tell you a little tale 
 Of lovely far-off lands. 
 
 Sweet my child, 
 
 Hark to the bell 
 That bids me hasten . . . 
 
 What have you to tell ? 
 
 Sister Jerome, Sister Jerome, 
 Tis such a little tale 
 
 So far away from fever 
 Just of a cool dim vale 
 
 Where two wee winds come singing, 
 Singing through the trees : 
 
 O every night they come and sing 
 Their sweet wind-melodies. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 27 
 
 They bring deep breaths of coolness 
 
 And healing summer rain, 
 And silvery, silvery soft they fling 
 
 It on the window-pane; 
 
 And all the folks that hear them 
 
 Lie very still and sleep j 
 They do not moan and murmur no 
 
 Nor say strange words and weep ; 
 
 For the little winds bring coolness 
 
 And healing summer rain, 
 And then they softly laugh and kiss 
 
 And turn and go again. 
 
 O when the pain beats brightly, 
 Go, take each by the hand 
 
 The sufferers ; bid them dream the way 
 To that peace-flooded land. 
 
28 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 Dear my child, 
 
 Sure I will tell 
 Of the kind wee winds. . . 
 
 Hark again the bell. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 29 
 
 XVIII 
 
 The halls are full of strangers ; 
 
 Each lies alone and pain 
 
 Doth bind each one with his red chain. 
 
 They think not of each other 
 
 Their pain looms mountain-high : 
 
 It towers o er the void where they lie. 
 
 I J ve longed to see their faces, 
 
 For then I might forget 
 
 In what hard ways my feet are set. 
 
 The hard ways of that bondage, 
 Do they too know them all ? 
 Strangers I stumble there and fall ! 
 
30 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XIX 
 
 This house of pain where we must dwell, 
 Whose hand raised high its towers ? 
 
 What heart to other hearts did tell 
 The woe and want of ours ? 
 
 It was the mighty heart of All ; 
 
 It was the mighty hand 
 Of All that rise and rule and fall 
 
 Within the mighty land. 
 
 How strange to feel, weak and alone, 
 
 By strength companioned ; 
 How strange to be, though all unknown, 
 
 Thus known and housed and fed. 
 
 But what are we to them, to All, 
 
 As idle-ill we lie, 
 And eat their bread, their helpers call, 
 
 Nor help not till we die ? 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 31 
 
 As we were lolling queens and kings 
 
 In robes of pain arrayed, 
 The folk from far its tribute brings 
 
 At our pale feet t is laid. 
 
 A bed of pain for each a throne ; 
 
 To rule in very deed, 
 What sceptre should we call our own ? 
 
 Ah this our utter need. 
 
32 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XX 
 
 Nay, we are loads for them to lift, 
 And straws to show their current s drift, 
 And we are riddles they must sift, 
 
 Even riddles they must read. 
 And we are signs of their unthrift 
 Ay signs of tasks that they have left. 
 They shall be shriven with this shrift : 
 
 " Go make their need your need." 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 33 
 
 XXI 
 
 The Sister for her soul s white sake, 
 
 The Doctor for his trade, 
 Druscilla for the pence she 11 make 
 
 (Our dreary little maid) ; 
 
 Sweet Sister Christopher for peace; 
 
 Father Saran to win 
 A seat of surety and ease 
 
 Far from the fear of sin. 
 
 The folk that pay us tithes again 
 
 T is for their hearts relief, 
 That we have burdened with our pain, 
 
 And wounded with our grief. 
 
 The Sister for her soul s white sake 
 
 (I say it o er and o er) 
 So many are the ways they take, 
 
 To serve our needs the more : 
 
34 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 So many are the ends they d make 
 Through pathway of our need. 
 
 The smoking flax for torch they take, 
 For crutch the bruised reed. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 35 
 
 XXII 
 
 I hear our Doctor s hard step by my door: 
 He brings a guest to look the sick folk o er; 
 
 For great men come his surgeon-skill to see, 
 To learn of life from our mortality. 
 
 Who s here ? A grizzled man from overseas, 
 Deep-browed, keen-eyed to look upon disease. 
 
 And must I lie thus solely for a show, 
 That they may say, " The fever fell even so ; 
 
 To-morrow it will rise again, 
 
 And with it bring the coughing and the pain " ? 
 
 Is there no more for us than fever-flow, 
 O deep-eyed, aged sir, before you go ? 
 
3 6 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 Beside this tale of death, no living truth, 
 Between your towering age, my stricken 
 youth ? 
 
 I smile up at him softly. O there lies 
 
 An answering smile in his compassionate eyes. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 37 
 
 XXIII 
 
 There is a desert of despair, 
 
 Where never seed was sown ; 
 There is a wilderness called night, 
 
 Wherein I lie alone, 
 And there my voice goes crying forth. 
 
 O were a sound a star ! 
 My cry is all there is of light 
 
 In a land where no lamps are. 
 
38 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXIV 
 
 Best I love Sister Jerome ; 
 Her arms are my only home, 
 
 Her strong arms and the white bed 
 Where they laid my weary head. 
 
 Sister Jerome how does she know 
 *T is the heart that hurts one so ? 
 
 Not the fever, not the wound, 
 
 But the lone heart, burned and ground. 
 
 Not the body-bruise that stings, 
 Just the heart s poor broken wings. 
 
 Sister Jerome how does she know? 
 J T is not thus with Sister Otho. 
 
 Was her soul born, say, a flower, 
 Opening in her own birth-hour, 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 39 
 
 Babe and blossom at one birth ? 
 (Thus some souls have come to earth). 
 
 Fair as ever a soul should be, 
 Just the hue of sympathy ; 
 
 (Color of grief, color of fear, 
 Color of courage, too, and cheer.) 
 
 Or, long since may she have gone, 
 Soulless, silent, sweet and wan 
 
 Cold as Sister Christopher 
 Till great LIFE appeared to her, 
 
 Rent her still heart-heaven with woe, 
 That the White Dove might come through? 
 
40 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXV 
 
 that it might be soon ! 
 
 But no I fear the strong bright sun 
 
 1 fear his burning noon. 
 
 His smile s for ruddier flowers ; 
 Ashamed of such a frail pale thing, 
 He d hide away and showers 
 
 Would come like my old tears ; 
 O no, dear Sister, I must stay, 
 Lest sunlight turn to sneers. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 41 
 
 XXVI 
 
 O far away, O far away, 
 
 Our father was the sun, 
 Our mother was the unknowing earth, 
 
 When day and night were one 
 Ere ever hearts had found them out, 
 
 Or pain his race begun. 
 
 O far away, O far away, 
 
 Sun set the little spark 
 Of life I fan with my faint breath, 
 
 Earth made on me her mark 
 Then turned her mother-face away, 
 
 And launched me in the dark. 
 
 Across the dark of pain and sigh, 
 Child of the sun I ve come ; 
 
 Daughter of earth doth languish here, 
 An exile from her home 
 
 Doth hide her face before the light 
 Within a living tomb. 
 
42 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 But spark of sun, it^is not quenched 
 The fire is in mine eyes, 
 
 And deep within my deep, deep soul 
 Earth-stillness ever lies ; 
 
 Even light and silence lie beneath 
 My passing pain-wrung cries. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 43 
 
 XXVII 
 
 What say 
 
 Bright leaves of day, 
 
 By the laughing wind caressed ? 
 
 " All young things 
 
 Should dance in the sun : 
 There joy sings 
 To every one." 
 
 What say 
 
 Sweet flowers of day, 
 
 That strive not, yet are blest ? 
 
 " All young things 
 
 Should live in the sun : 
 There joy sings 
 To every one." 
 
44 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 What say 
 
 At shut of day, 
 
 Two bird-calls from the west ? 
 
 " All young things 
 
 Should love in the sun : 
 There joy sings 
 To every one." 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 45 
 
 XXVIII 
 
 I would I might behold 
 
 One little child 
 Grow up with naught but joy. 
 
 O my heart is sure 
 That child would be more pure, 
 
 More beautiful, 
 
 More wonderful, 
 Than any dream hath told 
 Of a beauty without alloy. 
 
 But mayhap he would be too fair, 
 
 For our eyes as yet too rare . . . 
 
 For since the world with sorrow is defiled, 
 
 Even the Most Beautiful 
 
 Must our sorrow share. 
 
46 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXIX 
 
 From the world beyond my window blind 
 A wandering thought drifts down, 
 
 And still within my fallow mind 
 A seed of song t is sown. 
 
 O urge of life, thy wind-blown seeds. 
 Strange fruits may bear unto mens needs 
 
 O many men have thought this thought, 
 
 And many lips have striven 
 To utter it, and hands have sought 
 
 To shape it as t was given. 
 
 And some have builded it in stone, 
 
 With it some sail the seas, 
 And some have sung it all alone 
 
 (And I am one of these). 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 47 
 
 And some have caught and held it fast, 
 
 Then felt its need for flight ; 
 Now it has come to me at last, 
 
 I sing it through the night. 
 
 I do but sing it to my soul 
 
 That other souls may know, 
 And, starless, thus their dark console 
 
 Then let it, singing, go. 
 
 O Urge of Life, thy wind-blown seeds 
 Strange fruits may bear unto men s needs. 
 
48 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXX 
 
 With cassock black, baret and book, 
 
 Father Saran goes by ; 
 I think he goes to say a prayer 
 
 For one who has to die. 
 
 Even so, some day, Father Saran 
 
 May say a prayer for me ; 
 Myself meanwhile, the Sister tells, 
 
 Should pray unceasingly. 
 
 They kneel who pray: how may I kneel 
 
 Who face to ceiling lie, 
 Shut out by all that man has made 
 
 From God who made the sky ? 
 
 They lift who pray the low earth-born 
 
 A humble heart to God : 
 But O, my heart of clay is proud 
 
 True sister to the sod. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 49 
 
 I look into the face of God, 
 
 They say bends over me ; 
 I search the dark, dark face of God - 
 
 O what is it I see ? 
 
 I see who lie fast bound, who may 
 Not kneel, who can but seek 
 
 I see mine own face over me, 
 With tears upon its cheek. 
 
5 o LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXXI 
 
 Bidden to lay my hands in Grief s, 
 Bidden to bow my head, 
 To follow where he led : 
 
 The way was past my old beliefs. 
 
 Bidden to give to Grief a heart 
 By life so sore bereft 
 It scarce could be a gift : 
 
 I kept it not, nor any part. 
 
 Bidden to offer Grief my mind . . . 
 Foretaught in all Grief s ways, 
 It leapt the barrier-days 
 
 Of pain ! Itself would forge and find. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 51 
 
 XXXII 
 
 They who this age of Pain have trod, 
 Of him they strove with made their god; 
 But I who wrestle with him now 
 Contend but to uncrown his brow. 
 
 His brazen cup with wormwood stored, 
 
 I have drained deep, but ever poured 
 
 To Joy his sacred portion first : 
 
 T was draught to him did quench my thirst. 
 
 Thy crown of thorns though I must share, 
 Jesu, it blossoms in my hair ! 
 And they who look upon my face 
 See wreathed roses in its place. 
 
52 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 O great Allayer of our pain, 
 
 That some day shuts all eyelids down, 
 Wilt thou come softly, like the rain, 
 
 When he goes through to cleanse the town ? 
 
 Wilt thou come singing with the wind, 
 Who shouts and sweeps the dust away, 
 
 And scatters thus triumphantly 
 The little hoarded heaps of clay ? 
 
 Or smiling silent, as the sun 
 
 Who ripens ere they fall to rest, 
 
 Earth s flowers and fruits, so one by one, 
 They mellow drop upon her breast? 
 
 O great Allayer of our pain, 
 
 O sure Encompasser of all 
 Our woe : O come gently, as rain 
 
 Doth come ; Let not thy terrors call. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 53 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 That day whereon I die they 11 say, 
 " How bright doth shine the sun ! 
 
 A little cloud hath flown away, 
 Its race with darkness done. 
 
 "A little cloud hath fallen in tears, 
 
 That covered up the morn : 
 See now the earth sky-beauty wears 
 And starry flowers are born. 
 
 " See now the earth fresh-clad, arrayed 
 
 In robes that bear the rose ; 
 A little stormy cloud that strayed 
 Now homeward, homeward goes." 
 
 Yea, of my journey o er the skies, 
 My flight unto the flowers, 
 
 I pray more beauty shall arise, 
 I pray more light be yours. 
 
54 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXXV 
 
 Little Sister Rose-Marie, 
 Chosen bride to Christ she 11 be. 
 Child she says she sees her path, 
 Mild has felt God-Father s wrath, 
 Vows her life forth joyfully. 
 (Visioned unreality). 
 
 Harken, Sister Rose-Marie : 
 Chosen bride to pain I be ; 
 But I never saw his face, 
 And I never chose my place, 
 Nor the vow that wedded me. 
 (O unseen reality.) 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 55 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 My life was too short for sinning, 
 
 For sinning or for a shame ; 
 Nor wickedness had no beginning 
 
 Or are they all but a name ? 
 
 Not even one little folly 
 
 Of my own in my brief day ; 
 Only the monstrous folly 
 
 Of the world, which is not gay. 
 
 No sins there be, says the Father, 
 
 For which one is not forgiven. 
 Then come, sinners, comfort gather : 
 
 One J s saintly when one has been shriven ! 
 
 Then had there been time to squander 
 
 One little sin or two, 
 Just for wantonness and grandeur, 
 
 Which would I have chosen to do ? 
 
56 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 Ah me, I recall now the story 
 Of a woman mournful and fair, 
 
 A sinner, men said a world-glory 
 
 When she wiped Jesu s feet with her hair ! 
 
 Then I would needs be forgiven, 
 (Sweet Mary Magdala was such) 
 
 O I too would ask to be shriven 
 For having loved overmuch! 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 57 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 O the burden, the burden of love ungiven, 
 The weight of laughter unshed, 
 
 O heavy caresses, unblown tendernesses, 
 O love-words unsung and unsaid. 
 
 O the burden, the burden of love unspoken, 
 The cramp of silence close-furled, 
 
 To lips that would utter, to hands that would 
 
 scatter 
 Love s seed on the paths of the world. 
 
 O the heavy burden of love ungiven : 
 My breast doth this burden bear; 
 
 Deep in my bosom the unblown blossom 
 My world-love that withers there. 
 
58 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 This morn I cried : " Now I will live, 
 For Spring comes striding through the land, 
 With branch and blossom in her hand, 
 And all dear gifts that she doth give." 
 
 This morn I cried : " Now I will live ! " 
 Alas, the frail bright blossoms fall, 
 And though the Spring have gifts for all, 
 My gift of life she doth not give. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 59 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 The Sister wears a long straight gown 
 That hangs in folds of heavy brown ; 
 Is it to teach there is no garb 
 Gives entrance to the Heavenly town ? 
 
 For t is her swift feet take her there, 
 J T is her kind hands that build it fair, 
 Nor need she wait to tread its streets, 
 For it is neither here nor there. 
 
 I go up in my cloak of pain 
 And try the bright door not in vain; 
 I slip into the silent squares, 
 And I may go again, again. 
 
 Tis for the living we who try 
 To learn life deeply ere we die. 
 Even pain who draws me near to death 
 Hath taught me life most patiently. 
 
60 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 Even pain, with that same cruel hand 
 That stripped from me the light of day, 
 Doth show with fiery far-flung brand 
 The hills of my still Heaven-land. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 61 
 
 XL 
 
 Friend, thy page says " Pleasure," 
 Friend, my page says " Pain." 
 
 But what is the end of our reading ? 
 
 O it is the same ! 
 Knowledge each will be heeding. 
 
 Friend, thy path is pleasure, 
 Friend, I go with pain. 
 
 What is the end of our going ? 
 
 O for each the same : 
 Ourselves we shall be knowing. 
 
 Friend, thy food is pleasure; 
 My bread and meat are pain. 
 
 What is the end of our living ? 
 For each, for each the same ! 
 Deep sight it will be giving. 
 
62 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XLI 
 
 I wondered, ever wondered, 
 
 Till my full mind cried, " Take 
 
 The great things of thy wonderment 
 And plan and build and make." 
 
 The world was for my wonderment : 
 O world, art not complete, 
 
 That such as I should plan and strive 
 To lay aught at thy feet ? 
 
 O wonder of the wide world 
 
 Read first at Eden-gate : 
 u Last creatures of creation 
 
 Their final worlds create ! " 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 63 
 
 XLII 
 
 I have made for myself one whole happy 
 
 day! 
 Grief did not steal a morsel of it away. 
 
 1 shut all the doors of my soul to pain 
 He came and knocked at my doors in vain. 
 And tears, I flung them down in the deep 
 Sea where I lulled my sorrow to sleep. 
 
 And my sighs, I turned them to doves, all 
 
 my sighs, 
 
 With gray breasts and dreaming eyes. 
 For I said, " I will be mistress of one perfect 
 
 hour; 
 
 I will have peace and I will have power ; 
 And I will let the hawks of my fancy fly 
 And measure the distances in my soul s sky. 
 And I will give my heart room 
 O I will give my heart room 
 In which to bloom." 
 
64 LITTLE GRAY S O N C, S 
 
 All of an ecstasy in one gray cell, 
 (Where all of a grief has been wont to dwell), 
 All of a joy, all of a bliss, 
 And I I created this ! 
 
 I made it out of a dim dawn light, 
 
 That lapped me and laved me and drowned 
 
 pursuing night , 
 I made it out of a slanting rav 
 That touched to pearl mv prison gray j 
 I built it out of a distant bell, 
 Out of a young nun s song at the well; 
 I fashioned it out of a swaying curtain, 
 Teased by the mischievous toe of a certain 
 Rollicsome, frolicsome Zephyr I know 
 He pays me visits when the South winds 
 
 blow. 
 (He and his sisters are the wee clowns of 
 
 jy> 
 
 Droll little wind-maids and droll little boy !) 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 65 
 
 I made it out of Beauty s self. She 
 
 Appeared to me. 
 
 O I gathered all that Beauty gives, 
 For Beauty lives, O Beauty lives ! 
 T was she in her glorious heart gave birth 
 To this new creature Mirth. 
 
 Mirth, O Mirth, you too are young, 
 But of you no gray songs will ever be sung. 
 Teach me, O teach me in this my one day, 
 How a forbidden heart may be gay. 
 Let us set sail for far coasts in ships 
 Of merriment. Let me learn of your lips 
 Laughter again. Laughter I had almost for 
 got? 
 
 And it should be freight of our fanciful yacht ! 
 And have you quaint avenues named of men 
 
 Glee ? 
 
 How far on those avenues will you take 
 me ? 
 
66 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 And have you a sister and is her name Song? 
 What price would she give for my silver 
 tongue ? 
 
 Teach me how small a thing is the earth, 
 Teach me how trivial a toy it is, Mirth. 
 And then could you teach me to tether you 
 
 fast ? 
 " Nay, I d escape on your own breath at last." 
 
 All of an ecstasy, all of a mirth, 
 In a gray cell had their bright birth. 
 All of an ecstasy lived but a day 
 All of its life. ... In cells t is the way. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 67 
 
 XLIII 
 
 My dearest, fairest hope, 
 
 (O life s full bitter tide) 
 Had his Gethsemane last night 
 
 On the lone mountain-side. 
 
 Then out upon bare Golgotha 
 How great and sure he died. 
 
 At the right side of him and left, 
 Two fears were crucified. 
 
68 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XLIV 
 
 I am all alone in my little room ; 
 
 There is no one to see me but the Gloom 
 O the eve and the Dark o the night, 
 And the eyes of my Fears that affright. 
 If I smile there is no one to know, 
 If I weep my tears will not show, 
 
 And others are lying alone even so. 
 
 There is no one to know save old Pain, who 
 will creep 
 
 From cot to cot when the dark hours sleep; 
 He 11 be gathering up each sigh, 
 And each little lone heart-cry, 
 And every strong hope that doth sink, 
 And each doomed desire, I think, 
 
 To mix therefrom our common drink. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 69 
 
 O he brews the draught in a broken heart, 
 And we each give part and we each quaff part, 
 When he passes the cup around 
 To the souls whom he hath bound. 
 Then I will be smiling, O Pain, 
 When you give me the cup to drain, 
 That some who come after may smile again. 
 
70 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XLV 
 
 O Jesu, how my soul goes forth 
 To be a friend to thee, 
 
 Who had no friend to know thyself, 
 Who ever walked lonely ; 
 
 And whom the ages lonelier make, 
 
 Upon thy lifted tree. 
 O Jesu how my soul goes forth 
 
 To be a friend to thee. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 71 
 
 XLVI 
 
 Came one who told of Death s white steeds, 
 And of far goal on goal, 
 Where the ne er-ceasing soul 
 
 O ertakes new hopes, new needs. 
 
 O speak not of such after-quest ; 
 Hint not of journeyings, 
 As they were joyful things 
 
 My little soul would rest. 
 
 The anguished leagues that it has gone 
 
 The path of pain each day : 
 
 Alas, how long the way 
 From dawn to dark and dawn! 
 
 O Death may drive his steeds away, 
 
 My little soul would sleep ; 
 
 My body would lie deep, 
 Nor journey on that day. 
 
72 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XLVII 
 
 My little soul I never saw, 
 Nor can I count its days ; 
 
 I do not know its wondrous law 
 And yet I know its ways. 
 
 O it is young as morning-hours, 
 
 And old as is the night; 
 O it has growth of budding flowers, 
 
 Yet tastes my body s blight. 
 
 And it is silent and apart, 
 And far and fair and still, 
 
 Yet ever beats within my heart, 
 And cries within my will. 
 
 And it is light and bright and strange, 
 
 And sees life far away, 
 Yet far with near can interchange 
 
 And dwell within the day. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 73 
 
 My soul has died a thousand deaths, 
 
 And yet it does not die; 
 My soul has broke a thousand faiths, 
 
 And yet it cannot lie; 
 
 My soul there s naught can make it less; 
 
 My soul there s naught can mar ; 
 Yet here it weeps with loneliness 
 
 Within its lonely star. 
 
 My soul not any dark can bind, 
 
 Nor hinder any hand, 
 Yet here it weeps long blind, long blind 
 
 And cannot understand. 
 
74 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 XLVIII 
 
 But if my star of joy should call 
 
 A call as stars may give 
 " Awake, O slumbering little soul, 
 Awake, arise, and live ! " 
 
 How would a soul reach out to life 
 From silence and the tomb; 
 
 How would a soul unfold to light 
 And up through darkness bloom ! 
 
 How would a laughing soul scale Heaven 
 
 And star on star let fall, 
 If o er the death-song of the worlds 
 
 My star of joy should call ! 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 75 
 
 XLIX 
 
 Out of my little prison-cell 
 
 I send white thoughts and bid them tell 
 
 My message to my kind. 
 The singing wind can bear it best, 
 For song it should be glad song, blest 
 
 To beauty by the wind. 
 
 O white thoughts, this it is ye mean : 
 u We, born in pain have breathed and been 
 
 Nurtured of suffering; 
 Have heard all silence, lost all light, 
 Have touched the unknown Infinite 
 
 Of fear; and still we sing: 
 
 " c Night holds a holy mystery 
 
 Of life ; red pain is wine, and we 
 Have drunk so deep thereof 
 
;6 LITTLE GRAY SONGS 
 
 That we are strangely healed of fear, 
 Strong even through weakness, new-born, 
 
 near 
 The inner founts of love.* 
 
 u O we knew nothing of the way 
 When pain became our guide that day 
 
 We assailed him with our fears ; 
 But out upon the weary road, 
 Bearing his load, we learned the load 
 
 Was lighter than our fears. 
 
 " And kinder than our cries was pain, 
 And whiter than our dream his stain. 
 
 And fairer and more free 
 Cell-walls than world-walls, though world 
 wide, 
 
 If love unshackled, hope close-tied, 
 Joy unconceived be. 
 
FROM ST. JOSEPH S 77 
 
 "Lo, this was granted unto us : 
 We know not if all men learn thus 
 From suffering." 
 
 O wind, 
 
 Out of my little prison-cell 
 Take my white thoughts and let them tell 
 My message to my kind. 
 
O star of joy, 
 
 Thou that dost whitely bloom 
 In the darkest fields of doom, 
 
 O star of joy, 
 
 The deep pooh of mine eyes 
 
 Meet thee, greet thee, mirror-wise. 
 
 O star, my star, 
 
 I hold them, joyless, up to thee, 
 
 For thee to fathom, thee to fill, 
 
 Thou white beauty. 
 
 O star of joy, 
 
 My lonely, longing heart 
 
 Found thee where thou eternal art, 
 
 Joy of all joys, 
 
 That dwellest past the bound 
 Where any grief may go his round, 
 
 Light of all light 
 
 My darkened life I lift to thee, 
 For thee to kindle, thee to fill, 
 O white beauty. 
 
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U . S . A 
 
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE 
 STAMPED BELOW 
 
 OCT291917 
 APR 25 1918 
 
 MAR 101926 
 MA3 1- 
 
Norton 
 
 Little 
 
 959 
 
 LIBRARY