THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES POEMS BY ALEXANDER BLAIR THAW JOHN LANE LONDON AND NEW YORK MDCCCCI Printed by Richard Folkard & Son, Devonshire Street, London, W.C. 95 AUTHOR'S NOTE To the Editors of The Critic, The New England Magazine, The Overland, The Cosmopolitan, and The Atlantic Monthly ', I give my best thanks for their kind permission to republish Poems which have appeared in their Magazines. A. B. T. Santa Barbara, California. r.TRRAHY TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE With Burning Hearts I When Chaos Dwelt on Earth 2 .To the Great God Pan 3 Time 4 To Homer 5 Love's Quickening Fire 8 The Silent Heart 9 To Shakspeare 15 Shakspeare's Sonnets 16 The Earth Song 17 To Poetry . . 18 Close, Close my Heart 21 Love the Gardener 22 Beyond Sight and Sound 23 A Lyric 25 Through Nights and Days 27 When Love Lay Dying 30 The Life of the Rose 31 The Stream of Life 33 Love's Net 35 Deathless Days 37 The Singer at the Door 39 The Singer Watcheth 41 The Web of Fate 43 The Key 45 In the Wilderness. ...... 47 By this Last Door 49 The Blood of the Rose 51 vii. Vlll TABLE OF CONTENTS PAG* The Life Spirit 53 To F. T 55 In French Forms 57 My Rustic Muse 59 For You and Me 61 You Whispered, Love ...... 62 Under the Sun 63 Give Us More Life 64 Love's Blind Eyes 65 The Sun of Love 67 A Garland for Fame 69 To Robert Louis Stevenson . . . . . 71 In Memoriam Robert Louis Stevenson (The Light house Builder's Son) 72 To a Laureate of Empire 76 Fulfilment 82 Not Peace, but a Sword De Profundis 86 Sursum Corda 89 Our Ship of State 91 A Song of Freedom 95 Sowing 101 A Fragment 106 Form and Freedom 108 Love and Liberty . . . . . . .109 The White Gods no Venus Victrix . 1 1 1 To " The Venus of Milo " (Venus Genetrix) . . 112 An Epilogue 113 Fire and Dew 115 WITH BURNING HEARTS WITH burning hearts for ever we aspire To pour love's precious metal, like pure gold, Within the lips of life's immortal mould. And though our hands have shaken with desire, And spilled some drops, and failed to make entire The perfect image ; even so, behold, We are Life's artisans ! The world were cold But that our hearts have burned with such a fire. And since for beauty's sake my soul hath burned, Though I the perfect mould may never fill, Yet shall I feed that fire, with fire, until, When the great master's hand hath overturned The clay, perchance in these poor drops I spill Shall be my hope ; and I may not be spurned. I B WHEN CHAOS DWELT ON EARTH WHEN chaos dwelt on earth, a mighty god Was born ; an infant god and blind. No gleam Of light was there ; and darkly, as a dream, Did life appear, and fearful shapes that trod One on another down into the sod, Whence others rose, a never-ending stream. And still great Love is blind, and life doth seem To come and go, while he, asleep, doth nod. But lo ! that infant god who seemeth blind, He only from vain dreaming shall awake A wondering world. Oh, must we strive to break These bonds, whereby our vision is confined, Yet many weary years ; or simply take The word of Love for all that lies behind ? TO THE GREAT GOD PAN THOU ancient one of earth, thou god of all Who breathe, hear thou our cry ! Upon this crust Of crumbling earth we lie, as we were thrust, All naked, forth. On thy dark world we fall ; Around thine altar, infant-like, we crawl. Come forth from out thy groves! Surely, thou must ! We cannot see ; our eyes are filled with dust, We hearken, trembling, for thine answering call. We are but mortal, made of this bare mould Whereon we live, and die, and make our moan ; Which thou hast heard, and on thy pipes hast blown Faint answering sounds ! Thy voice, now, as of old, Though seeming but an echo of our own, Remotest secrets of thy heart hath told. 3 TIME TIME is the mighty master of us all : Upon his coming and his going wait Love, and swift death, and day and night, and fate. Princes and flowers before his sickle fall, Who round kings' gardens builds a prison wall ; Beggars by him are brought to high estate : And his alone the skill to modulate Life's broken stops to measures musical. So Life's true singers shall of Time go free, His minstrels, over all the world to range, Till they shall find, past waters deep and strange, Their native land, and that pure liberty, Last born of the quick womb of time and change, Whose breath is life's alternate harmony. 4 TO HOMER BLIND singer of the world's desire, Thy world is ours. Thy song Troy town Built, burned ; and then thy lyre Burst in a blaze of fire Seas shall not drown. First kindled in a woman's eyes, Fire burned high Troy ; and beckoned meri From home; and from the skies The gods. Those flames yet rise, Yea, now as then. Yea, now as then, the world's desire, Though hidden from us, still doth dwell In Helen's heart of fire, And breathes upon thy lyre Her mighty spell. 5 6 TO HOMER Against new gods we wage our wars, New cities build or burn with fire ; And still, beneath the stars, We beat against the bars Of blind desire. Our world is thine. New wars we wage Under old skies. Our richest wine Hath savour of thine age : We write on life's last page; The book was thine. Of life's brave book the leaves are turned, And as we read we wonder how Thy blinded eyes discerned Life's hidden fires, that burned Even then as now. TO HOMER 7 Oh thou who first, when earth was young, Sang fate defied and mortals slain, Upon that honeyed tongue How sweet thy songs, though sung Of mortal pain ! What songs have we thou dost not sing, What fates thy heart hath not foretold ? Breathe thou the songs we bring ! Bees on thy mouth still cling, Now, as of old. LOVE'S QUICKENING FIRE BY the strange virtue of love's quickening fire, Life's early visions, lost and long forgot, In forms material are born, begot Of one swift burning moment of desire, Beauty's first-born to Love ; nor shall expire As do earth's children ; nay, and they shall not Within the fatal urn of Time be caught, Till earth's last singer break the deathless lyre. Conceived in ecstasy ethereal, Begot of passion that swift perisheth, And born of the warm earth, one subtle breath, Suspiring from this source material, Leaps to the sun on wings aerial, And through love's fire escapes the night of death. 8 THE SILENT HEART A BALLADE UPON what mortal lips this air hath stirred, This air we breathe in laughter or with sighs, In what immortal strains, or with what word Of life, that dies not though the sweet song dies ! Though the bright morning stars in the still skies Stay their sweet singing, sphere answering sphere, Hush ! from the world's deep heart doth ever rise That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. How long the stars for all the ages hurled Silent through space, while yet no mortal tongue Had told the secrets that the murmuring world Whispered her many children, as they clung 9 IO THE SILENT HEART Close to her bosom ! Ye whom fate hath flung Prostrate upon the ground ! Oh ye with ear Pressed close to earth, what music thence hath sprung ! That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. Beyond the sound of waters, when the sea Beats with a ceaseless thunder on the shore ; And, with unmeaning moan, eternally The senseless passion of his life shall roar, Raging in froth and foam, and evermore Make hollow sound ; hark, to the listening ear Sweet siren voices on the wide air pour That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. Though these were songs no man might hear, and live, What then J Shall you, by fear of death deterred, THE SILENT HEART II Seek death in life ! Oh ye, who dare to give Life and the world, to catch one strain, unheard, Of more than mortal music ; which hath stirred Men's hearts, beyond life's hope, or death's dark fear ! The world awaiteth still that magic word, That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. Ye who, with silent hearts, shall venture where Those siren songs your very souls beguile, Shall not that spell, flung on the breathless air By lovely lips that sing and ever smile, Be very breath of life ? Oh, reconcile Your hearts to silence ! Your reward is near : Though you be bound with burning thongs the while, That song your silent hearts alone shall hear, 12 THE SILENT HEART Ye who would know what many men have sought, In vain, or finding, found therein but death, Though you are bound with thongs that fate hath wrought, Yet be not mutinous ! Lo, every breath You breathe is life : whereof, what mortal saith It is a burden, his harvest falleth, sere, Ere it be ripe. And still life uttereth That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. Winter comes soon and swift the year grows old, But ye whose hearts are still an hungering, Who, sowing, reap not, but with love untold Give all your treasure for love's offering ! The very winds shall do your garnering : And while our harvests perish with the year, The seed you sow shall make another spring. That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. THE SILENT HEART 13 Ye who, desiring much, have given more ! Lo, all your harvest, on the wide air sown, The winds that scatter shall again restore, An hundred fold ; yea, and to you alone Shall be the secrets of the sweet earth known, Borne on this air, far sounding, faint and clear, In strains that Pan upon his pipes hath blown ; That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. Among the groves, and up the mountain, still We follow, where you lead, with eager feet ; Yet hear we naught, though Echo from the hill Answer your hearts with music wondrous sweet. But you go far, till at the last you meet The very soul of things ; as you draw near The world's deep joy within your hearts shall beat. That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 14 THE SILENT HEART ENVOI YE who in silence suffer for love's gain, And swift surrender what you buy so dear, This is your gift, which princes seek in vain, That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. TO SHAKSPEARE THY sun, circling our world from age to age, Lighting our little moons that wax and wane, Still blinds our eyes. Ah ! though we strive in vain To pierce that central fire, whose fearful rage And fierce white light beat down upon the stage, Thy throne, oh King, the flames that were thy pain Give us our life ; thy grief becomes our gain ; And our free kingdom, this that was thy cage. Though thou wouldst put aside thy royal crown, Full abdication of thy throne pronounce, Thy wonder-working wand of power put down, With this, thy mighty magic all renounce, Making thyself no more than others are, Still, in our sky, burns but one central star. 1900. IS SHAKSPEARE'S SONNETS IN this thy little book, on every page Where, putting off thy motley, thou wouldst fain The hidden anguish of thy heart assuage, Behold the secrets of thy mortal pain ! Though all the host of earth and hell engage To fix upon thy soul a burning stain, Still upon earth thou heaven's war dost wage, With heavenly fire from burning tortures ta'en. No shame of dark or daylight didst thou shun ; Thy heart's last treasure freely didst thou spend. Nature to thee was ne'er the veiled nun, Whose frail virginity thou must defend : She was thy mistress ; thou, her subject, still Hast all her kingdom subject to thy will. 1900, 16 THE EARTH SONG EARTH sings her song ; wherein, if any sound Of seeming discord dwells, 'tis thus life shows The imperfection of each thing that grows. The sweetest fruit in all earth's garden found Was bitter once. Born from the blackest ground, And blooming on her thorny tree, the rose, The fairest flower that in the garden blows, Bears a sweet balm to heal life's deepest wound. Though weary be our toil, our wanderings long, At last, concealed within life's fallen fruit, May fall some fertile seed, whereof shall shoot Life's healing flower, to make our faint hearts strong. The sweetest herbs have oft a bitter root, And out of grief shall rise our sweetest song. 17 c TO POETRY I THE love I bore all these to thee I bring, And with Love's harvest in my hand I wait, Content to kneel beside the outer gate Of thy dear shrine. And if thou, opening The door, shouldst bid me follow thee, and fling My little handful in, or soon or late, Lo ! it is thine. To thee is consecrate The last grain gleaned of love's own garnering. Oh ! take the gift, and open wide the door : Pierce me with all the magic of thine eyes, And in mine ears thy deathless music pour ! When this my heart within thy bosom lies, But one small seed is added to thy store ; And thy rose-garden fills the farthest skies ! 18 TO POETRY IQ II AH ! hard it is to win thy meed of worth, The consecration born of service true ! The sweetest flower that e'er thy garden knew From Life's dark bed and bosom had its birth : And who would serve thee well upon this earth The inmost heart of the world's life must woo, From Life's hot blood distilling purest dew, Lest Love's bright arrows bring us woe and dearth. I fain would serve thee well, with skill in craft To send each arrow singing to its aim. But, oh ! that some true breath of life may waft My words in secret ways, unknown to fame, So that to one warm heart some slender shaft Bear its swift message from Life's central flame. / C 2 2O TO POETRY III CONDEMN me not that in my heart concealed One mighty love lies hid ; nay, though thy wrath Should stay my footsteps on thy garden path, The seed that blows from summer's richest field Springs where it falls : and so my heart must yield Some scant sweet harvest for Life's aftermath ; Too warm to wait the winter's cold, it hath, Within thy walls, Love's living flower revealed. Though buried deep beneath the winter snows Love's plant may perish not, but still persists, And through each seeming change of life must bring Forth seed, and increase in its kind. So grows The mystery more strange, while Love resists The hand of fate, and summer follows spring. 1895- CLOSE, CLOSE MY HEART CLOSE, close my heart within thy heart hath lain, Some few brief days, some few sweet hours and brief. What fear we then of fate, that black-winged thief? Who feeds on lifeless seeds of scattered grain, Dead hearts, that ne'er have known love's burning pain, The birth of that new life, whose root and leaf And flower and fruit are ours ; yea, ours the grief Of fallen fruit, and tears that fall like rain. Our souls, long severed, now shall never thirst, Since from our hearts, that long in silence sobbed, The very blood of love and life hath burst In one pure stream. Ah love, fate hath not robbed Us of love's fruit, and we are not accurst, Since deep within thy heart my heart hath throbbed. 21 LOVE, THE GARDENER THY beauty was a bud of Love's true graft, Flower-like of birth, as flooding all thy face The quick blood rushed to meet his swift embrace, When to thy heart, deep even to the haft He sent his piercing blade. Oh, perfect craft ! That grievous wound hath added further grace To beauty's self ! And when he set that trace Of tears in those deep eyes the great god laughed. The heavenly gardener gazed into those eyes, And in the look that lay there he hath known His master touch, the life that is his own. So, serving him, I too have looked where lies Thy beauty's source, reaping, where Love hath sown, The heavenly harvests from his wounds that rise. 1897. 22 SINCE I have looked on thee with eyes made clear By love, how shall thy mortal beauty blind Them so ; that they must ever fail to find Thy beauty's heart, or, finding it, still fear Such naked loveliness ! Nay, though thy sheer Bright beauty's self escape me now, unkind Fate cannot be for ever ; I would bind My strength with yearning, so to hold thee near. Thou art, like Aphrodite from the wave Of ocean born, a daughter of the light And shining air. What though these lips yet rave, Mine eyes one day may know Love's second sight ! From Death's dark shadow then these hands shall save Thy beauty's heart, enshrined for earth's delight. 23 24 BEYOND SIGHT AND SOUND II CLASPED to thy heart I feel the living beat Of blood, behold it leaping to thy fair And perfect brow, till even the bright air About thee seems to throb with Love's most sweet, Most ardent fire. In passion's purest heat Thy spirit lives ; but mine thou dost ensnare As in the meshes of thy winding hair; And in thy breath my soul and senses meet. With no more mighty voice sounds that great Word, Which even soul and spirit sundereth, Pierced with the passing of a mystic sword. The wordless music of thy quickening breath Gives body to a soul ; yea, hath restored A spirit unto sense, life unto death. A LYRIC IF grieving be love's guerdon, Art thou then blest, Who bearest but love's burden, By love possessed ; Who on thy heart hast worn This rose, with bloody thorn, Which my poor heart hath torn, staining thy breast ! Were love's bright sun quite vanished, There in the West, And all these shadows banished At love's behest, 25 26 A LYRIC When all is dark around, How should one flower be found That falleth on the ground ? Daylight is best. When night's pale flowers are perished, Since, on thy breast, This rose thy heart hath cherished, Thy hand caressed, Still bears the crimson stain Thy heart from mine hath ta'en One fadeless flower in vain shall fate molest. THROUGH NIGHTS AND DAYS I WHAT though by suffering risen from the ground Into the light of air, yet did I fail To see one glory in the world's dark trail, Until mine eager eyes at last had found The fire of dawn in thine ; and all unbound Thy dark hair covered thee. How shall prevail The sun above thy praise, or speech avail To utter it, or song thy praise to sound ! While many silent hours my heart must wait To hear the glory and the upward rush Of the lark's song, which shall at heaven's gate Welcome the dawn, and, with the first faint flush Of the new day, drive forth dark night and fate, My heart lies still beneath love's holy hush. 27 28 THROUGH NIGHTS AND DAYS II LONG, long had I my lonely watch been keeping, With weary eyes awaiting the first spark Of a new day ; and still the nesting lark Was silent : but, as the sad hours went creeping Slowly by, Time, with his swift sickle reaping, Woke me ; and swiftly there thro' all the dark I saw where joyous love hath set his mark, Upon thy mouth ; but lo, thine eyes were weeping! Oh, shall this darkness spread uplifting wings, Or these dark hours that make our night so drear Bring forth the dawn, when we may see full near The vision hid behind the veil of things ? Or must we perish, that we dare to peer Too deep within life's inmost sacred springs ! THROUGH NIGHTS AND DAYS 2 9 III ABOUT my heart thy wondrous hair is wound : And wrapt in those bright bonds thy being clings To mine ; and from those heavenly strings Which thou upon my beating heart hast bound, All trembling in an ecstasy of sound, Rises thy beauty's praise on love's bright wings. So that sweet bird which in high heaven sings, Bears my heart's burden upward from the ground. Thy beauty in my fleeting breath shall live. For I, who long so silent was and dumb, Have caught the secret spell: I am become Thy voice. Almighty Love hath grace, to give To some swift silent joy, but grief to some, And a deep joy, nor dumb nor fugitive. 1899, WHEN LOVE LAY DYING WHEN Love lay dying, and from the world desire Of life and all delight were vanished, Since Beauty too must be earth-banished, A singer laid his heart, a broken lyre, With passion's flowers enwreathed, upon Love's pyre. But Beauty came she whom Love's hand once led Unto the double throne of Life and said, " Let my heart burn to feed Love's holy fire." Then Beauty took the singer's offerings Ere they had perished in that fatal flame ; And wreathed her body with the flowers he gave. Her heart burns still in that sweet song he sings Unto the broken lyre ; how Beauty came, To die with Love, and lived, his life to save. 30 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE " The rose said, ' I am the Yusuf Flower, for my mouth is full of gold and jewels.' I said, ' If thou art the Yusuf Flower, show me a certain sign thereof,' and she made answer, ' Perchance that I am garbed in a blood-drenched garment.' " THE SACRED STREAM OF LIFE YE purple flowers that maidens love so well, What mysteries in your deep blushes dwell, What secrets whispered in the silent night, What hidden things ye know and may not tell ! The lily hideth nothing from the rose, Whose inmost heart the whole wide garden knows Since she doth bear within her bosom white A cruel crimson wound, and from it flows The sacred stream of life. So she doth mount Love's royal colors. Nay, nor stops to count Her loss, while you and all your sisters drink Deep drafts of love from that immortal fount. 33 D 34 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE Ye virgin violets, would you deny The red rose for your queen ? That crimson dye Marks you her subjects still. Ah, though you think ' Tis but for secrets of the distant sky That maidens hold you dear, beneath that pure Bright azure veil you wear, behold, the lure Of love's desire doth lie. So that fair net Of heavenly blue shall serve to make more sure The secret spell of love. Ye maids who wear Love's mystic purple blossoms, oh, beware ! About your hearts your well-loved violet Hath cast love's veil and caught you unaware. LOVE'S NET LOVE'S net is made of divers colors blent ; Crimson the warp, with love's deep passion pent, And wrapped about with fine ethereal threads Of mystic blue, from farthest heaven sent. A double mesh ! Ah ! fast and sure it holds Our hearts at last. Beneath its purple folds The joy of life with love's strange sorrow weds, And all our grief the joy of love beholds. Such mysteries in your sweet blossoms hide Ye purple flowers ! When as the red rose died, Ye violets, thou heavenly heliotrope, How deep you mourned her ! Yet that crimson tide 35 D ~ 2 36 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE Of life flows on. For you the rose hath bled ; You are her heirs, so all the garden said. Her love is yours, and all love's better hope, Whose flower hath never from the garden fled. From life's dull house though love's sweet joy doth fly. Swift as the day, or fate, or flowers that die, Love's hand still holds our hearts in that strange mesh Which fate doth weave beneath the silent sky. Though fate should turn our joy to mute despair, And all the house of life grow dark and bare, Still in the garden groweth ever fresh That flower of love. Oh, let us seek it there ! DEATHLESS DAYS THE House of Life were but a place of gloom Did not that wondrous web fill every room, Whose woof of fleeting day and night is made, Whose warp love's hand did lay upon time's loom. Fate plies the silent shuttle ; aye ! and yet A mightier hand the mystic loom hath set, That these thin threads of shifting light and shade Should hold our throbbing hearts in one weak net. Some souls there be, who, looking on life's wall, Would seek to read the meaning for us all Of sundry subtle pictures, which, they say, Fate weaves within that fabric mystical. 37 38 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE And some there be who all their days have spent In wondering how the stuff was made : they meant To ravel out the darkness, but the day Of love they missed, nor knew they where it went. Ye maids whose hands this wondrous web do bring ! What part is theirs who serve you still and sing The songs first heard within your garden sweet, Content, while your fair arms about them cling, For some few days to lie within the net Of your bright hair ! These days may die, and yet, Like the fair flowers that blossom at your feet, These are the days that Death may not forget. THE SINGER AT THE DOOR " THROUGH golden days Fate's flashing shuttle flies. In loops of light dropped from the very skies Some threads are thrown ; and far beyond the roof Behold the rose-trees in the garden rise ! " All through that warp, which from the rose tree's root Love spins so strong, swift doth the shuttle shoot, And of these golden days weaving a woof Makes a fair net to hold Life's flower and fruit. " Ye maids who wait on Love, to you belong Both fruit and flower : your tender hands are strong To hold that net wherein my heart is caught : Say, would ye sell it for an idle song ? 39 4-O THE LIFE OF THE ROSE " Idle are all my songs, whom Fate immures In this cold house. Yet all my heart is yours, Yours the sweet flowers I had so vainly sought, And that one song which to the end endures." The voice is hushed. Loud, loud Time's loom doth roar Through all the house. But now, at last, the door Bursts open wide. A white hand beckons him, And he goes forth. Hear ye the song once more ? " Oh love, though seeming dark this is not night : Though, as we look upon this wondrous light That makes the golden day, our eyes grow dim, Must we then fear, or fall from Love's last height ? " THE SINGER WATCHETH " ARISE, ye sleepers in the house, arise ! If ye would see the light, before it flies And in the shadow of dark yesterdays To-day is gone where no to-morrows rise. " Think ye the watch without the door mistakes An earth-born vapour for the dawn that breaks Beyond the verge of earthly nights and days ? Can he but dream who all the house awakes ? " And ye fair virgins who Love's fires do keep, Are your lamps filled where noisome vapors creep ? Do you in wantonness our hearts deceive ? And must we wish we might forever sleep ? 41 42 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE " Or do you keep your vigils all in vain, Leading our lives into a tangled skein, While blindly through the night your hands still weave Threads we may break but may not mend again ! " That silken skein is spun with love's deep skill ; The golden bowl to the bright brim you fill. And ere I drink this cup of earth's pure wine Here on sweet earth some precious drops I spill. " Robed in life's garments shall I stand afraid To touch this stuff whereof all life is made, And shall I dare to think the weave too fine, Or blame the Maker, though the stuff be frayed ? " THE WEB OF FATE OH ye, who ponder o'er Life's pictured wall, Tell us the meaning of the flowers that fall, The days that leave Love's shadow on the grass, What say you of these songs and singers all ? What ! When the songs and flowers are all forgot Then you may see the visions Time hath wrought Within these hangings wonderful ! Alas ! Wonder remains, but wisdom cometh not. And ye who study how the stuff was made, Whence came those colors there, so soon to fade ! If dark the web that from Time's loom doth roll Where is the light that casts so deep a shade ? 43 44 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE The whole great fabric just a veil to hide Our eyes that weep ! Is there no other side Which Love's handmaidens see as they unroll The web that Fate this day doth cast aside ? Oh, tell us, thou, who serving Love dost climb, Setting to-day above the days of Time, What are Time's secrets then ? With smiling lips He singeth still a song of simple rhyme ; And bears Fate's mystic web so high that we May follow not, yet the whole fabric see. The light bursts in as through the door he slips : But he is gone ; and gone the garden key. THE KEY " I HEARD a voice; thy white hand beckoned me : The door swung open wide. I saw no key, But through my heart the world's untold desire Poured like a flood as first I looked on thee. " I caught from thy dear lips a spell to ope Life's farthest gates. I am content to grope : The master-key is mine, and this strange fire That burns shall be the light of all my hope. " A single thread still leads me through the maze Love built within thy garden ; all his ways Lead through thine eyes: how shall I fear or doubt, I that have known the wonder of thy gaze ? 45 46 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE " Though I may never hear thy lovely name Within these gates, it burneth as a flame Here in my heart, and never shall die out While flowers bloom to crown Love's endless fame. " Since thou hast led me to thy secret place Beyond the garden wall, still give me grace To keep the golden key, lest Fate's dread powers Should bar me from the heaven of thy face. " Beyond these walls, in earth's great wilderness, Under some spell of deep forgetfulness Though I be lost, let me behold the flowers Wherein love wreaths thy wondrous loveliness." IN THE WILDERNESS " I SERVE thee only : by the living fire That dwells among the roses of desire, Here in the desert let me still deserve Thy heavenly love, and ask no earthly hire ! " Nay, though my path to life's dull house return, This golden key the secret lock shall turn, And I shall win once more a way to serve Thee : yea, and love shall stranger things discern. " For now unto love's wondrous peace thou hast Shown me the way. Aye, though we twain are cast Out from the garden, what sword is there so sharp To part us now or slay us at the last ? 47 48 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE " Though none may break the threads whereof the weft Of fate is woven, yet are we not bereft ; For who shall break the thread of love's strong warp, Or change that look love in thine eyes has left ? " Love made thy hands upon Time's loom to tend, Thine eyes behold Love's weaving hath no end, And though our lives be hither thither tost Love gave thee skill his subtle thread to mend. " Oh love, were life a wilderness of sin, One thread still leadeth to the shrine within, Wreathed all in roses that the years had lost. And violets to veil love's sorrows in." BY THIS LAST DOOR " BY this last door, where still I stand and grope, I found a budding spray of heliotrope : And here I wait, for here or late or soon, Thy hand shall pluck that fragrant flower of hope, " Like to this flower thy heart still constant turns Unto love's sun, whose rosy daybreak bums All day ; and in the lingering afternoon, Lo, to her purple throne love's rose returns. " Borne on the shining wheels of time and change High noon hath gone: here on the heights we range, And far below, a soul bewildering sight, Our life's fair garden lies, a vision strange, 49 E 5O THE LIFE OF THE ROSE " How the swift shadows lengthen, love! Yet see, The falling shades unfold more mystery, Till, through their shifting bars of broken light, Gleams the full length of Time's great tapestry. "Our day slips by: the sun's far slanting rays Throw deeper shade : but to our wondering gaze How clear the vision of the garden there As through the dark'ning hours we walk love's maze! " That thread which in the garden first I found, And followed, groping blindly o'er the ground, Swift as the night leaps through the breathless air, A line of light, that knows no bar nor bound." THE BLOOD OF THE ROSE " WHEN the swift day is gone, hope's distant star Shines through the dark : and must we, borne so far On the dark wings of love's unuttered woes, Hover, still hopeless, here at heaven's bar ! " When that our shadows, lengthening, confuse The threads of love and fate ; when fate doth bruise Our hearts upon Time's loom, and very love Brings us to fear, the way how shall I choose ? " From thy sweet lips half parted in surprise, And the strange light within those silent eyes, Fear came to me, but now they shall reprove My faltering heart and teach me to be wise. SI E 2 52 THE LIFE OF THE ROSE " The light that was must ever be my guide, And lead me still far up the mountain side, By winding paths to win life's perilous slope, that last height, where joy and peace abide. " When the day dieth, ere the sun is set And joy and sorrow merge, behold there yet Poth glow the wondrous light of love's great hope ; And all the earth is robed in violet. <l So earth must mourn the day! But overhead The fading sky swift turns a rosy red : And heaven blooms with that incarnate rqs,e \Vhich in love's garden for love's sake hath bled." THE LIFE SPIRIT " And from the soul the body form doth takej For soul is form and doth the body make." "For earth thai gives the milk the spirit gives* WHOSE is the finger that gives form To everything that lives ? Whose mystic touch turns dark earth's dust To Beauty's flesh and blood ? Whose is the mind that made the Word By which a thought may live, Whose subtle breath shall make a child The prophet of all time? Whose is the hand that marks the hours With the sharp knife of Time, And with our lives doth measure out The life of Time himself ? What is the force of awful change S3 54 THE LIFE SPIRIT That brings sweet Life to death, And gently then, raising Death's veil, Hints larger life within ? Thy scarce seen footsteps mark the path To earth's own Paradise, Thy heart -beat sounds the melody And measure of Life's song ! Still let me ever live to be A servant at thy shrine, Kissing the feet that lead me on, The hand that bears the knife, Till, with my head close to thy heart, I catch the cadence deep, divine, Of earth's immortal strain. TO F. T. How often, dear, since first our spirits met, But still in vain, my hand has tried to trace One living line of all the mystic grace And beauty that is thine! And I must yet Abide the time when I shall pay that debt Which I have owed to time since thine embrace First freed me from his hand, and hi thy face I saw that light whose sun doth never set. Blessed the day when first I caught just one Dear look of thine, such as thy spirit fleet Clothes thee withal, as with the golden glow Of Love's far speeding but still constant sun. I am borne onward; till mine eyes shall greet The whole wide vision that my heart doth know. 55 IN FRENCH FORMS MY RUSTIC MUSE MY rustic Muse, all rough and slow Doth like some heavy creature go : Turneth like ox before the plough, And down beneath the yoke doth bow, Of fine French form and furbelow. Sweet Muse ! Still turn thy rough furrow. A god perchance the seed shall sow, Whence some good thing may come, I trow, My rustic Muse ! Out of dull earth bright flowers grow ; In the full harvest thou dost know, 59 6O MY RUSTIC MUSE With what loud songs of gladness now The wains go rumbling to the mow Where sweetest grasses overflow ; My rustic Muse ! FOR YOU AND ME FOR you and me a happy lot Had been some little house, a plot Of pleasant flowers, and a wall Where vines should grow, and lizards crawj When summer suns beat down full hot. There had we lived, and never sought To see beyond, and sighed for naught : No need of noble house nor hall For you and me. If now beyond or crib or cot Our house be grown, sure, I know not Why griefs should grow, or pleasures pall ? Because the roof-tree is so tall, Or hearts become less warm, God wot, For you and me ! 61 YOU WHISPERED, LOVE You whispered, love ! in just one word, Secrets I long had passed unheard, Faint breathed within your garden close Far borne by each wild wind that blows, While I lived on with hopes deferred. Long years in this cold heart interred Lay one deep mystery unstirred, " As summer under winter's snows," You whispered, love. You breathed upon me, and I heard The burden sung of Love's sweet bird ; The secret of the budding rose Was mine : the rest no mortal knows. You whispered, " Love! " 62 UNDER THE SUN UNDER the sun these roses grew, Whose falling petals now bestrew The garden path. And must we fear The winds that blow shall interfere And change our roses into rue ? Close round my heart love's whirlwind blew These dying rose leaves : but for you They still were lying brown and sere Under the sun. Ah, Love shall make a wondrous brew Of bruised flowers : 'tis the dew Love's night distils, each drop a tear, Then many roses far more dear ; What then, love, though there's nothing new Under the sun ! 63 GIVE US MORE LIFE GIVE us more life ! Our blood grows thin, Until we fear, like shapes of sin, Our very shadows, as they lie Upon the path ; in vain we sigh For the brave days that once have been. We shut the door, and there, within, We wait for wonders to begin, And light our little lamps, and cry, " Give us more life ! " But push the door ; aye, make it spin, And face the sunlight entering in ! Behind us now the shadows fly, No fear that life will pass us by As we go forth, fresh fields to win ! Give us more life ! 64 LOVE'S BLIND EYES ALL ye who would be great and wise, How may joys ye had not missed, Had ye but seen with Love's blind eyes ! But " joy possessed for ever flies ! " On such vile doctrines you insist, All ye who would be great and wise. Ye slay the hours as they arise ; Cold are the lips ye should have kissed, Had ye but seen with Love's blind eyes. Slain by the spirit that denies, Love leaves you blind indeed. Oh, list, All ye who would be great and wise ! 65 F 66 LOVE'S BLIND EYES w When ^ays are dark and daylight dies, Ye were not wand'ring in the mist, Had ye but seen with Love's blind eyes. Your blindness lacks Love's swift surmise ; Ye come too late to Life's high tryst, All ye who would be great and wise, Had ye but seen with Love's blind eyes. THE SUN OF LOVE SINCE love's blind eyes have pierced that veil Which parted thy dear life from mine, The sun of love shall never fail. From out the flame of passion's pale White heat a living light doth shine, Since love's blind eyes have pierced that veil. Beneath this light must still prevail Earth's inmost fire. Lo ! by this sign The sun of love shall never fail. Why must we seek some mystic Grail, And shun the cup of earth's pure wine, Since love's blind eyes have pierced that veil 67 F 2 68 THE SUN OF LOVE Which like a darkening cloud did trail Sometime between my soul and thine ? The sun of love shall never fail, For now among our senses frail Hath grown some sense almost divine ; Since love's blind eyes have pierced that veil The sun of love shall never fail ! A GARLAND FOR FAME IN this garden, I made for mine own A garland for fame : ah, but pray Who shall care for these flowers I have sown ? When my blossoms in beauty be grown, Will Beauty's sweet self ever stray In this garden I made for mine own ? Must I wander for ever alone, Will delight then for ever delay ? Who shall care for these flowers I have sown ? All these flowers of fame, overblown, Let them lie, to show Beauty her way In this garden I made for mine own. 69 7O A GARLAND FOR FAME For she hath all my heart for her throne ; Though my flowers for her sake should decay, Who shall care ? For these flowers / have sown. All my garlands of roses I lay At her feet. She is mine : and one day In this garden I made for mine own, She will care for these flowers I have sown. TO ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THOU spirit strong, who late in English ships Didst bear our English tongue to the last reach Of this world's farthest sea, thou hast for each Live man of us pushed back the line where slips This self into the dark, as the sun dips Into the sea ; and set on that far beach A brave new standard for our English speech : Or sounds the old so new upon thy lips ! Like men of old, deep hast thou gazed within Thy soul ; aye ! deep within that fatal urn Where souls of men are made, where toss and spin The leaves of destiny. Yet thine eyes turn To us at last as with a child's calm gaze ; And little children wait on all thy ways. 7 IN MEMORIAM ROBERT Louis STEVENSON (The Light-House Builder's Son) BEHOLD ! a tower of light ! where stood before The flickering flame that led our fathers home. Then shall there be, upon the sea, no more Of faith in heaven's fires ; shall froth and foam And misty cloud for ever from our sight Conceal the stars and hide their heavenly light ? Born of the blood of them who builded higher The house of light upon the homeward shore, Comes one with eyes far fixed upon that fire Which beckons ever on the deep ; once more On seas unknown we sail, while he beguiles Our hearts with words of new-found fairy isles. 72 IN MEMORIAM 73 And so with him upon the sea's bright strand, Forgetful of the tide and of the wave, Like children there we builded on the sand Our cherished treasure houses. Ah ! how brave That heart ! As with the courage of a child He led us on, and all our hearts beguiled. He takes us boldly past the harbor bar, And floating through the reefs and round the shoals, He shows us where the wrecks of winter are, All through the summer seas; and where men's souls Lie wrecked, he steers straight on, through darkest night And starless skies, led by an inward light. No wandering fire he follows. Nay ! that heart Turns like a compass to life's constant source. 74 IN MEMORIAM Though danger threaten us on every part, And sun and stars should fail, the secret force That fills the world with light and life and love Holds true his heart, which tempests may not move. Fate's wheel, just touched, moves hidden chains that rule The lives of men ! Our captain owns no whip But strength in gentleness. If some poor fool Be rashly mutinous, as on our ship, Alas ! so many are, each foolish heart He chides, unrolling wide life's fateful chart. Gladly we give him service. Let us keep This last long watch with him ! The night is come, The sails are set upon an unknown deep. That light which led us outward from the home Our fathers made he ne'er may see again : But he hath set new fires within the hearts of men ! IN MEMORIAM 75 Well may we bear him tribute. Golden sails Take forth our treasure to the sunset sea. The strong sweet wind that swells them never fails, And with a braver faith, our hearts shall be Upborne by that pure breath which in his words Still lives, as on great seawinds soar the gray- winged birds. TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE You sing to us the song of steam, And true romance ; our world is yours : You draw things as they seem ; What know we if the dream Dies or endures ? You set forth with the rising sun, And watched your brothers as they wrought ; So they may read who run You told of work well done, Battles well fought. On every little thing and dear You set the mark of true romance : 76 TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE 77 And wondrous true and clear The forms of things appear To your quick glance. Out of the sunrise in the East You came and made our dreams come true ; And made us, great and least, Each man and boy, and beast, All friends to you. We lived those dreams you made so real, Those songs of yours we long had sung : Our very hearts you steal ; What then ! You made us feel The world is young. The world is young. You found it out While others swore 'twas sick and cold ; 78 TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE Our faith no man shall flout ; The things we care about Are never old ! When in old jars you poured new wine, Though it was strong, we did not shrink, Unto our royal line, And all our rights divine, Long life to drink. We dreamed the world was ours ; that draught Swift made it so as in our vision. The cup of blood we quaffed, And at the whole world laughed With wild derision. The Lord of Hosts was with us still ; Let pagans worship wandering Pan ; TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE 79 So we, by His good will The heathen slew ; we kill For the Great Plan ! We bade them turn and kiss the rod, Forget their passion and their panic, Forget they were downtrod : Nor see in our great God A Thing mechanic. Were your romance then but a mist To veil from us God's law and love, 'Twere better you had missed The mark ; nay, in the list Ne'er thrown your glove. Oh, better had our hands but shook, And spilled the wine ! Not now with laughter, 8O TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE But through our tears we look, Deep, deep within Life's book, Before and after. Think you we have not understood The spirit of your spoken word ? We know the wine is good : Being our very blood, That you so stirred. The wine is pure ; but in the jar Were left the old wine's bitter lees, Whose bitterness shall mar The vintage new, while war Still taints the seas. And since our war may never cease, Shall we not make new bottles then, TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE 8 1 Wherein the years of peace Shall pour the Earth's increase Of joy for men ? You praise our work ; why then we'll pray For power to make, and better mould, New jars of sweet earth's clay, Those others put away, Men made of old. FULFILMENT THOU living God! We know Thou art Within each truly humble heart : We know Thou dost not dwell apart From perfect Love. Thy great love hath Shown us Thy wisdom's better path ; How shall we hope to stay Thy wrath ! Hast Thou our brother's pleading heard, Since in our hearts the ancient word Of sacrifice hath once more stirred ? Had we forgot all pride of birth, Our offering were better worth Than Kingship over sea and earth. 82 FULFILMENT 83 When did'st Thou give dominion, Lord? When gav'st us Thine almighty sword, Which we have seemingly restored ? We know Thou gavest length of days, Freedom to walk along the ways Of Thine own love, and for Thy praise. We know, O Lord, the passing hours Thine angels are, with awful powers To make Thy life at one with ours. Yet spare us, Lord ! if through the din Of wasteful wars we fail to win The way Thy wisdom leads us in. Thy fear hath shaken hands that reek With brother's blood, and still would seek To hold their birthright from the meek. G 2 84 FULFILMENT Once more to us a voice is sent, Crying from out the wild, " Repent ! " " Repent!" and evermore " Repent ! " Ah ! tp repent were mere remorse, Without Thy Love. A water course May rise no higher than its source. Without thy law of Love, Oh God ! Well may we bend beneath the rod, Yea ! bow our foreheads to the sod. Ye sons of Abraham's true seed, Beware ! the boast of blood and breed Shall fail you in your utmost need. Up from these very stones shall rise True sons of God. Beneath these skies There is one only sacrifice. FULFILMENT 85 Hath He been offered up in vain, That Holy One ? Or was He slain Indeed ? Shall Christ not come again ? Have we forgot ? Shall we forget His law of love ? Oh ! live we yet Under the law of blood and sweat ? Thou God of Love ! Be with us still ! Maker of worlds ! Make Thou our will At one with Thine. Thy law fulfil ! Sept., 1897. "NOT PEACE, BUT A SWORD!" I DE PROFUNDIS ONCE, the world stood still in wonder, Heard a voice amid the thunder, Saw the veil was rent asunder. When that bitter cup was taken, When to life the dead did waken, Was this living world forsaken ? Daylight comes. But dark disaster Falls upon us fast and faster, While we still deny the Master. Oh, that ancient awful blunder ! Shall we rend His robe asunder, Mark the whole fair world for plunder ? 86 DE PROFUNDIS 87 " Lo, our Brother, he hath worn it, " But these others, they have torn it, " And shall we forbear, or scorn it ? " Earth is ours, aye, all upon it. " Lo, His robe, by lot we won it ! " Shall we slay the love that spun it ? * Blood upon the world lies reeking, Tongues unknown we still are speaking, Truth comes not for all our seeking. Are we still our brother selling To the death ? Shall love's upwelling Soul still find no earthly dwelling ? What ! Are we but beings fated, On a dying world belated, Still to hate as we are hated ? DE PROFUNDIS Time moves on, the silent reaper, Shall the mark of Cain grow deeper ; Am I not my brother's keeper ? Shall a selfish generation Sell our hope, our faith, our Nation, And escape Time's condemnation ? II SURSUM CORDA MENACED now by many dangers, At our gates the hordes of strangers, And within, the money-changers ; While we yield to compromises, Blinded by the old devices, By the smoke of " sacrifices ;" Is our Freedom's temple shaken ? Ere that bitter cup be taken, Rouse ye hearts, ye people waken ! Though the world of nations fear us, Though the Lord of battles hear us, May the God of Love be near us ! 89 90 SURSUM CORDA Freedom ! Thou, our common mother, Lead us still ; oh, let no other Guide be ours against a brother ! Nay ! Though nations fall asunder, In that voice amid the thunder, Love reveals a growing wonder. And that awful scourge still scourges ; From the world's deep soul there surges Fire, that all the temple purges. 1898 9. OUR SHIP OF STATE THEY said we were adrift ; our ship a raft Built up of broken masts and rotten spars, Flotsam from all the wrecks of all the seas That wash the chained shores of this wide world ; And we, we but the jetsam, and the jest Of all the nations ! But he laughs best Who, in the end, late and at last has laughed ; Yea, wounded sore, yet dares to smile at scars. Beneath some jests lie deepest verities: Confess, we drifted then ! How else, when hurled About by war's fierce winds, by storm sore pressed, Had we still held our course ! 91 92 OUR SHIP OF STATE Be it confessed No chart was ours, all rudderless our craft ! Straight on we bore, beneath the guiding stars, With the deep stream, biding no favouring breeze; While, at our side, where backward eddies whirled, Strong ships were sinking that we saw distressed, Their rudders fixed. But we, on Freedom's quest, Just saving them that leaped, and freely quaffed The sea's strong salty stream, caught a few spars, And lashed them by our side, that so might these Find footing with us. As the eddy swirled Above their ships, the ocean's heaving breast Still bore us up and on. Now, watch we lest The many by mere weight, the few by craft OUR SHIP OF STATE 93 Shall sink us yet ; or lest, to fill our jars From fresher streams, in some false port of peace, Anchored too long, our ship be downward hurled^ By some old infamy, set forth new dressed In Freedom's stolen garb ! Since he laughs best Who laughs the last, what though we still had laughed Through storm and stress, shall we do so when wars And strife are done? Nay, shall our strife e'er cease ? Must we be bound with chains of gold, impearled, To grin at some new tyranny's behest ? Or shall we seek new freedom ? For us no rest ; Ceaseless our vigils ; nay, the very draught Of life we drink comes salty from the jars, 94 OUR SHIP OF STATE Which stand unsealed, lest someone thirst. What ease Shall be for them who seek that unknown world, No fairy land, no Island of the Blest, Where perfect Freedom reigns ? Ah ! though our quest Quite hopeless seems, helpless and frail our craft, Freedom's true sons shall see new avatars Walk on before them, o'er the stormy seas, With Lincoln, whose sad lips, unfearing, curled In smiles midmost the storm. Fear, fear not lest The Leader shall be lacking ! Time be our test, Whose proof is this, that who laughs last laughs best ; And Truth, which dwells ofttimes beneath a jest ! A SONG OF FREEDOM I To FREEMEN OVER ALL THE EARTH Lo, you are all my children ; nor forget To take your birthright, ye who were begotten To bear the burden of that heavy debt, Not easy to be borne, nor soon forgotten. For this is yours, his birthright to restore Unto your weaker brother. Though dark deceit Did blind your father's eyes, 'tis night no more, But yours the burden of the day's full heat. In that dawn's light, ye seed of Israel, Shun ye your father's father's penalty ; Strike hands in peace with sons of Ishmael, Since none, or all together, shall go free ! 95 96 A SONG OF FREEDOM Face ye the light ! Look, through the coming years Sweeps o'er the world my universal flood ! There are no hills to climb till the sky clears ; And still the waters bear the stain of blood. II To THE BRITISH YE who go forth upon my mighty deep, Whereon no ship men make for long shall float, Be strong to swim, when my great billows sweep In swirling eddies round your riven boat. How shall you lean upon your ancient laws, Of such frail timber hope to build some Ark, That shall endure ! So should you clutch at straws, As drowning men who perish in the dark. A SONG OF FREEDOM 97 III To THE BOERS AND ye, who sit where still your fathers sat, And build your houses on a heap of sand, To your dim eyes another Ararat ! How long think you your little hill shall stand ? What ! Would you strive to stay great Freedom's flood, Which riseth still, with that resistless force That makes the warm heart beat, the bare tree bud, Like living sap that springs from Life's deep source ? IV To BRITON AND BOER, IN BATTLE RESISTLESSLY ! What, then without remorse Shall this flood rise ? And shall no heavenly dove H 98 A SONG OF FREEDOM Bring forth some branch of peace ? From that great source Whence freedom springs, flows there no fount of Love? V To BRITONS ON ALL THE SEAS THE seas are yours! Then will you bid them fall? Nay, though they sink with every ebbing tide, How sure, how swift that slow recessional Riseth resistless, in great freedom's pride ! As the old ocean's backward waters creep, To gain new strength, and only fall, to rise ; As your strong youth prepareth for the leap, So, with loin girt, seek freedom for your prize. A SONG OF FREEDOM 99 Let no hypocrisy be yours ! What need Have I then to repent ? What to restore ? This writing on the wall let freemen read ! 11 To him who hath shall yet be given more." VI To FREEMEN IN EVERY LAND Lo, for my sake poured out, your father's blood Riseth in you to make your children free ; And you must venture forth on life's great flood Though wrecks and reefs should threaten all the sea. Aye, let your harvests in that swelling tide Be swallowed up ; and you shall see, full sure, Your cities of their mire all purified ! The flood is on. See that ye keep it pure ! H 2 IQO A SONG OF FREEDOM So unto ye, baptized in freedom's faith, Who, in my purifying sea immersed, Bear one another up, shall come no scathe ; Yea, though the sea be salt, ye shall not thirst. SOWING FULL slow Comes up each seed you sow : Before you reap Long, long the seed must sleep. And yet, Not all in quiet peace Comes increase. There is no thing alive Which doth not strive : And still you pay life's debt With toil and sweat. Full many seeds you sow, Few grow. 101 IO2 SOWING And those you plant too deep You shall not reap, But earth shall keep. Yet these shall not all die, But lie Until they find a way Unto the light of day. And for yourselves Only, you do not sow ; For him who delves Hereafter your seed shall grow. For some other Still you sow, For some brother You do not know. SOWING IO3 How shall you know What word of all your creeds, Filling some future needs, Shall be sure To endure ? What one of all your seeds Shall thrive among the weeds, Strong, and pure ? You know the earth is kindly And plant your seeds ; And then, but oh how blindly, You pull the weeds ! Then beware ! Ye that do till the soil, With daily care and toil, That every cherished seed Shall bring forth fruit that you may feed ; IO4 SOWING Whose fear is for the morrow Of famine and of need ! Forbear ! Yea, guard ye, in your greed, Against a greater sorrow, Lest, tearing up some weed That may annoy, You so destroy Some hidden hope, some unseen root, From whence had grown, Hereafter, Such wondrous fruit As hand of man Hath never sown, Since time began. What though you still were foiled In that for which you toiled ? SOWING IO5 What though you labored still in grief ? 'Twere not in vain ! Nay, in some late gleaned sheaf Of golden grain, There may be found Some simple blossom bound, Whose balm shall bring relie For all your pain. A FRAGMENT OUT from the garden where the birds still sing, Where beauty dwells among the budding roses And nodding poppy flowers that swiftly bring Their sleep upon us when the bright day closes I am called forth. As in a dream I go To join that host who on the river's brink Worship the sacred stream. I may not know What measure is for me ; nor shall I shrink. I fall upon the shore, and with my hand Make me a cup, and dip it in and drink To quench this burning thirst. Now on the strand, With steadfast gaze bent on that sacred stream, 106 A FRAGMENT 1 07 Comes one who holds a glass, wherefrom white sand And black commingled runs, whose dull grains seem, Like falling seeds, to quicken with the birth Of coming life ; and now it is no dream ! For this grey sand, mixed with the moist sweet earth That banks the river up, brings forth rare flowers, And far along the shore, where all was dearth, A garden blooms : and fresh as morning hours And young as youth, goes forth upon the grass That shining one, who pours unceasing showers Of sand, both white and black, from a full glass ; Whose name is Time. FORM AND FREEDOM THESE banks that bind Life's current to our use, Oh tread them lightly ye that come to slake Your thirst therein ! But one false step you take, And more than life in that full flood you lose. Though these hard bonds my very heart may bruise, Not for my life would I too lightly break The bonds this world hath made for freedom's sake, Nor yet my vows to serve a jealous muse. Then shall I dare in my frail skiff to skim Upon that flood where they shall scarce endure Who sail in mighty ships, well built, secure From flood and fire ? Lo, from the river's brim I launch my boat. What though I sink or swim ? On with the stream I go, full fast, full sure. 108 LOVE AND LIBERTY THE gift of freedom lies within Love's dole ! Who knows not Love may play some active part, May seemingly fill up, with anxious art, A place in Life's great scene, and take this r61e Or that as chance shall serve. Ah ! how the whole Great world grows near and real since the swift smart Of heavenly fire first pierced within my heart, And Love delivered me from Fate's control. Fate's linked chains fall off as I confess Me here a willing slave to Lqve. Behold ! Thy bonds I bear. But while thine arms enfold Me close to thy warm heart, lo, I possess Mysejf in thee. Thy love hath made me bokj j And perfect freedom lies in thy caress. J09 THE WHITE GODS OH ye white gods, who far above us bask In the sun's fire, your altars now are cold ; And when we stand before you, and make bold, From out the burning of our hearts to ask, Why we poor mortals still must bear our task, Toiling on earth, ye answer, as of old, " Fate rules alone." So ye yourselves withhold, Hiding your faces, as behind a mask. Why should we worship you, or call you great ; Or seek to drag you down, who dwell so far Above our battle ? Nay, or soon or late, All passion-torn and mortal as we are, We stand beside you we, who with black fate, Whom ye do fear, wage our eternal war. no VENUS VICTRIX WHEN many years are gone of drought and dearth, Shalt thou not struggle to the light again From forth our mighty mother's womb ? And when, Lying like us upon the lap of earth, We know thee daughter of our common birth, But beautiful, and free, how shall we then Still fear that chain, by which thou bindest men, Thy girdle woven of all woe and mirth ? And when from out thine opening eyes doth peer The wonder of all life, and through thy form Surgeth the sea of earthly passions' storm, Then shalt thou draw us to thy heart full near ; No shame of ours thy beauty shall deform, And we, bound in thy toils, shall hold them dear. in TO "THE VENUS OF MILO" (VENUS GENETRIX) WE dare not hope to reach thy lofty place, Nor with dark Fate to be quite reconciled. Thy seeming sightless eyes, benignly mild As of the early gods, or of some race Of men almost divine, look into space Beyond our mortal vision ; with no wild Swift passion torn, so hast thou ever smiled Great love immortal lighting thy calm face, Born of the womb of earth, who doth beguile Both gods and men to woo her, for all time Thou art a thing of worship. Ah, sublime Mother of men ! We may not reconcile The darkness with the dream ; yet still we climb The starlit heights to win thy sacred smile, 112 AN EPILOGUE I You bid me sing you as I cull these flowers Some simple song, and gay. Yet the world's fashion would forbear to scorn The rose I bring for that it bears a thorn. Nor would my song forsooth then be forsworn, Did I but mourn, In simple sorrow, Seeing these blossoms that I cull to-day Must wither ere to-morrow, And in the passing of a few short hours From earth and from all mortal memory Pass quite away. 114 AN EPILOGUE II But who am T, to lay on Beauty's grave Dead roses of regret ; Seeing that one small seed, Which her white hand hath dropped upon the earth, May come to life again some day, somewhere; And, springing from that sacred secret birth, New flowers of Beauty's breed Shall blossom on the fragrant air ! Shall I forget, though Beauty sleeping lies, Love hath such subtle art, And Life such mighty power to save The very fragrance of each tiling that's fair, The very life that Beauty's hand first gave, Which Love, within her brooding heart And in her dreaming eyes, Shall evermore beget ! FIRE AND DEW Pour forth the wine ! Let the bright bowl be filled With earth's pure fire ! Pour yet again ; yea, pour Until the burning, brimming cup run o'er ! What though some drops of very life be spilled . From this rose - wreathed, fire - crowned cup ? Distilled In fragrant dew shall they not fall once more Back to the earth, to quicken and restore The thirsty soil, that life shall be fulfilled ! So do we mix pure water with pure wine ; And life, which first was born of living fire, Finds in the falling dew a second birth. And so, amidst the ashes of this earth, May Beauty bear some breed of pure desire, And breathe new life through these dead words of mine. US UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-25m-8,'46 ( 9852 ) 444 THE LIBRARY UNIVEHK- 1 Y. < f FOUNIA t f\cy . .SIX >- , f. T k .!,.... 'I So^y Thaw - T531A17 Poems . UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FAC LITY A A 000257981 1 PS 3539 T331A17