LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE Ex Libris ISAAC FOOT a a ROUGH EDGES LONDON AGENTS SIMPKIN, MARSHALL, & CO. ROUGH EDGES BY b!h. g! arkwright ®£tOt& B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET 1914 V KA3RG To whomsoever my fancy may indict Its formless fashionings, to him or her — What does it matter, whatsoe'er I write To whomsoever ? Will he or she find life more free and fair For any thought my fancy may incite ? Will anyone the finer friendship dare, More love dispense, or higher hope invite ? Will he, or she, or anybody care By whatsoe'er I fan my fancy's flight To whomsoever ? CONTENTS PAGE. Black Sheep y Marooned o The Herd Animal x ^ Spirit of Braille I4 The Law --------- 16 Treasure Trove 20 Earth-Lives 2 \ Dust and Ashes 25 Solitude 27 Dream-Child 28 Yesterday 29 Silences ^i Trance 33 Mother Nature 34 Love at First Sight 35 Flames 37 Here and There and Back Again .... 38 Love and Logic 3g Vulcan 40 In the Shadows 43 Hiatus 46 Thought 47 6 CONTENTS. Forgetfulness 4& London 49 Come Away 5 2 Daybreak 54 Friends 55 Cigarette - 57 Sleep 58 Moorings 59 BLACK SHEEP. Leave us alone ! Part from us here, You that are kin to us, you that are bone of our bone ! Skies may be dark for us, Your heaven's clear: Live your own living, and leave us to live out our own ! You that have grown, Year after year, Fervent and firm in the faith you have fathomed and known, How can you comfort us ? How can you cheer Hearts whence the angel of peace has departed and flown ? Can you condone Doubts, that uprear Temples to shelter Despondency's image of stone ? You that are fain of us, You that stand near, Can you restrain our idolatries ? May you atone ? 8 ROUGH EDGES. Weep not, nor moan, Waste not a tear Over our fruitlessness — what we shall reap we have sown ! Time may be granted us, Truth may appear, Trouble reveal to us all that your faith could have shown. MAROONED. MAROONED. The last bell clangs for the shore, And the gangway drops with a ring On the edge of a rainswept quay That shall know my feet nevermore — For the past is a pebble to fling, But the future a pearl may be ! The great boat glides on her way, And the tip of her steel-shod toe Points scorn at Leviathan In a feckless furrow of spray ; And her ropes twang taut as a bow, And her wash spreads out like a fan. The morning yields to the noon, And the noon speeds on to the west, Till the evening nods to the night ; While the engines chant me a tune Of a long low island of rest, And a palm-clad shore of delight. I0 ROUGH EDGES. Suntide and moontide blend. As the days drift on to the weeks ; And the engines murmur the while That my search draws nigh to an end — That my heart shall find what it seeks In the lee of that loag low isle I throb with the racing screws, That whirl in a wild sea valse To the pitch of the mad monsoon. Mid the glare of the blending blues I awake, all tense at a false Semitone in the ceaseless tune. Whether I wake or sleep, Their song drones on in my heart In a slow crescendo refrain — I am wan with the watch I keep, And my fellows hold them apart As they eye me with awed disdain. These men here think I am mad; And their women too are afraid — Oh ! I know their thought all the while ! If they'd seen the visions I've had, On their bended knees they had prayed For a glimpse of my own green isle ! MAROONED. n But the shafts are whispering low; " He is mad, he is mad ! " — Ah God ! So the wheels of my thought spin round — While the half-heard, haphazard blow Of the steering gear's short rod Beats the time with it's untimed sound ■ Are they so wise and so sane ? Am I to sanity lost, Struck down by a mind's disease ? Ah well ! so be it : Amen ! Though life be the price it cost, I would not change places with these ! ^J :,: ^. ^t' %' *J^ I have hid myself in a boat ! See, the falls are ready to slip, And the ropes lie hitched to my hand ! I will drop like a boy's quill float, In my own small perilous ship To make search for my own green land. All thanks to the darkening sea Of a cloudy starless night, As I ply my resolute oars ; For my island beckons to me, My long low land of delight, With its palm-clad, wonderful shores. 12 ROUGH EDGES. I can bid those others " Good-bye ! " That learn their living by rote, And pay their death as the fee : I have chosen my pall — the sky : I have chosen my bier — this boat : I have chosen my giave — the sea ! THE HERD ANIMAL. 13 THE HERD ANIMAL. I will follow the other sheep in the flock : I will take my place in the line : By the ploughland, pastureland, bog or rock, I will plant, in their footsteps, mine. I will pass on the paths my fathers have known, Through the gaps they made will I tread ; For, to leave their tracks, were to walk alone In a region of nameless dread. I will study my neighbours, and day by day I will do whatever they do : I will think what they think : I will say what they say : Tabooing what they taboo. I will never endeavour by native wit To discover the truth from a lie : I will love the letter, and cherish it, Though the spirit languish and die. So at last, when my years shall have reached fourscore^ By a thought unmarred, or a fault: Though my body may cumber the land no more — It may cumber the family vault ! I4 ROUGH EDGES. SPIRIT OF BRAILLE. The life of me, a blank unwritten page, Was opened out : nor those who were so wise In scholarship, nor I with my own eyes, To find a hidden meaning could engage. Then came there one, who would not brook defeat, To wrest interpretation from the script Invisible : but, being baffled, dipped His pen, and wrote " Accurst ! " across the sheet. Wherein lay little wisdom. And there came A subtler one, who thumbed the leaf, and smiled, And by a sleight of hand impressed his wild Theology upon it, and a name. But ere a year had gone, the faded scrawl Of that mean conjuring into air had passed, And still the page was blank : till Fortune cast A blind man in my way, who held an awl, And with unerring fingers touched the page That was my life : where finding nothing penned, He took his awl, to prick from end to end Its blankness. So, by course of pupilage SPIRIT OF BRAILLE. 15 To his quick diligence, my lines are writ In countless little wounds of me. But when I asked him how his name was known of men He answered, " Call me Fate — blind Fate, to wit ! " 16 ROUGH EDGES. THE LAW. " Of the tribe of Levi were sealed twelve thousand." Of the voices that call from a distance, The eyes that allure from afar, There are none may deceive our resistance Unguessed for the snares that they are ! To a spirit that leads we are strangers, So fear we the fire from those eyes, Which exalts not at all, but endangers Our lawful, our soulless emprise. To the God Who made choice of a nation, The God Whom our canticles praise, We have humbled us ; each in our station, To order our steps in His ways. For we know by His Book He is jealous, Though sovereign in justice and truth ; So we look to ourselves, and are zealous To coax or beleaguer His ruth. At the knees of our mothers — His mercies : The hands of our fathers — His law : By His prophets, His blessings and curses, That drive us to Himward, or draw : THE LAW. 17 In the form of a faith, consolation : Of a dogma the hope that inspires : By His grace everlasting salvation: For our sin the unquenchable fires. Though the fool cry aloud ; " He is nothing ! " The fanatic shout ; " He is here ! " Swinging forth on a blasphemous loathing, And back on a fanciful fear : Though the savage may cringe to the thunder, The heathen bow down to the sun — Though they guess His existence, and wonder — They know not the Infinite One ! Who bow not the knee at His altar, How hear they the tones of His voice ? Who turn not the leaves of His psalter, How learn they to sing and rejoice ? By fashions unruled, unappointed, How know they to worship aright ? How think they, untaught, unanointed, To grope to the truth and the light ? In the howl of a gale, and its hushes, The languorous sigh of a breeze, The whisper of wind to the rushes, The lisp of a wind through the trees : 28 ROUGH EDGES. In the wave that upshoulders, and shivers To susurrant spume of the sea ; In the water, fresh water of rivers That ripple and babble so free : In the sun that has tyrannised greatly, The moon that is cold and serene, As they lead in the concert of stately Monotonous daily routine: In the stars that are certain, or waver, That scintillate now, or eclipse, Be they gay in their courses or graver — How trace they the word of His lips ? In the eyes that for flash of a second To joy undelivered gave birth : In the touch of a hand that has beckoned A heart from the ends of the earth : In the sound of a voice that will linger In echoes of music to toll — How trust they the touch of His finger ? How guess they His gift of a soul ? * * * * * * We have prayed for the fools in their blindness, For the wicked have prayed in their sin, That Jehovah, of mercy and kindness, May gather the prodigals in. THE LAW. 19 We have burnished the shackles that bind us, Have fondled the gyves of our sect : We have come to our God — He shall find us, His lawful, His soulless elect ! U 2 ROUGH EDGES. TREASURE TROVE. O ! graceless glint of a hidden treasure That none may look upon, none may share : Wealth unportioned, beyond all measure, Gems and jewels that none may wear Buried away in the sea-cave's womb, With none to fondle you, none to consume — Do you cheat the world of a single pleasure ? Does one man miss you, one woman care ? Do the spring-tide breakers that lap and lift you, Curving the fringe of your squandered heap, Fingers of surf that sort and sift you, Softly stirring your year-long sleep — Do the wild sea-horses that charge and flee, And form and break on the trampled sea With thunder of hoofs that shake and shift you, Fret to be free of the store you keep ? Does the heart of the sea that throbs and surges Over you, under you, round you, near, Anywise reck of your power that urges This man's valour, or that man's fear ? TREASURE TROVE. 21 Has the sea learnt ought of your wanton charm To kill or kindle, to help or harm ? Does the sea feel ruth that his tide submerges Live men's heritance, dead men's gear? Do the glistening mermen around you muster, Awed with wonder, agape with greed ? Do slim mermaidens covet your lustre Of belt and bangle and brooch and bead ? Are their hearts more warm, or their loves less cold For sheen of jewels and glitter of gold, Who sign not love with a diamond cluster, Who seal not love with a dowry's mead ? Unsuspected and unbespoken, Powerless either to strengthen or break Heart of man by your dearest token, Hoard of man by your wildest stake : Buried away too deep to move Lust of lucre or longing of love In this man's heart, that his honour be broken, In that man's soul that his heart should ache ! Are all the riches of all the ages Lessened at all by this your stealth ? Do you violate ought of the law that gauges This man's poverty, that man's wealth ? 22 ROUGH EDGES. Deep hid to moulder and rust and rot, Do you add one tittle, detract one jot, To peace that purrs, or to war that rages, From this man's happiness, that man's health ? Though you tire of the voice of the comber>' thunder, Weary of winds that whisper and rave, Wince at the roar of the reefs that sunder Billow from billow, and wave from wave : Can you buy your freedom, or find content By trinkets scattered, and bullion spent ? Can you meet the grasp of the hands that plunder, Or greet the glance of the eyes that crave ? Opal, amethyst, pearl, and beryl, Art of filagree, stones unset, Bound and impotent, stale and sterile, None to covet you, none to regret — Till a man shall find you, and turn his will To rally your power for good or ill : Till a man shall come at his bare life's peril, To ease your haunt of an age-long debt ! EARTH-LIVES. 23 EARTH-LIVES. A pansy from his loamy bed Beheld a star high overhead That glittered all alone, One spangle in the purple zone Of night, and said : " That shining mystery shall be my own ! " He planned adventures to impress By doughty deeds her loveliness; And slept at last, and dreamed That all the chivalry he schemed Had found success, That in his heart that starry brilliance beamed. But with the peep of morn, a ray Too fierce to fight, too strong to stay, Shot from the smiling sun, Alit upon the aspiring one, The would-be gay, And turned his blue to grey, his gold to dun. . . 24 ROUGH EDGES. Within a month the warmth and rain Wove coloured raiment once again To deck the risen flower : Who, conscious of a newborn power, Forgot the vain Ambitions of a past prenatal hour. He sought anew his soul's requite, And compassed it the self-same night ; But when the day had dawned He held a weary crone, who yawned Where Heart's Delight Had clung to him, and smiled on him, and fawned. So selfhood, and the empty pride Of choice are sworn and nullified, To wither, as the grass That ere a day may come and pass Has lived, and died — To live, and die, and live again, alas ! DUST AND ASHES. 25 DUST AND ASHES. Was there ever a love without passion ? Was there ever a hope without gain ? Was there ever a faith, but a fashion Might prove it was vain ? Have the memoried past, and the being Of man such a tentacle root In earth's dust, that unfree, unforseeing, He clings to his brute, Lest his spirit should soar and delude him And compass the planets unclad — Lest Desire that has bred, and would brood him, Go childless and sad ? Were he purged of Desire and Delusion, Would his fate be all fair to fulfil, Or remain ne'ertheless a confusion Of good and of ill ? Would there spring from new wells and new sources Old fountains of sorrow and pain ? Would old rivers of sin, in new courses, O'erwhelm him again ? 26 ROUGH EDGES. Though Desire in the coffin were lying, Delusion laid stark on the bed, Of the anguish and pain of their dying Would wisdom be bred ? Would the pangs of a lifelong suppression Leave memory's mirror so bright As to bear an untarnished impression Of cloudless delight ? * * * :;: * * Ere the flame of Desire he may weaken, Or e'er on Delusion he stamp, They have burnt a man's heart, for a beacon, His brain, for a lamp : Lest the darkness should utterly swallow His soul in the peace of the night — That the steps of his children, who follow, May lack not a light ! SOLITUDE. 27 SOLITUDE. Lonely this track of the moorland is, mournful the sky, Weary the plaint of the plover's disconsolate cry : Lonely, and mournful, and weary am I. Locked are the rust-reddened gates of me ! Lost is the key ! Who should desire and adventure to enter and see Cob-webbed, moth-eaten corners of me ? Oft in my folly a knock I have fancied I heard : Once, they swung wide of themselves to a Sesame word — Not for long moons have their lichens been stirred. Locked are my gates till the key that is lost shall be found — Found in a glance — in a touch — in a whisper of sound Restless I wait while the years eddy round. Lonely this track of the moorland is, mournful the sky, Weary the plaint of the plover's disconsolate cry : Lonely, and mournful, and weary am I. 28 ROUGH EDGES. DREAM-CHILD. Come to me, come to me now, Winging through space ! Brood with your sweetness and grace O'er the place of my heart that is empty, beloved ! Mystical child of my dreams, Phantom delight, Furnish my heart through the night That by right may be ours, who by day are divided ! Come, for you know I am kind ! Pillow your head Here, where my arm is outspread : Till, all red with his envy, the morning affright you ! Sorrow and waking are one : Lethe flows wide : Borne on the breast of her tide, Let us glide through the darkness, your head on my shoulder. YESTERDAY. 29 YESTERDAY. Yesterday — was it but yesterday . . . ? Ages ago Somebody sobbed in the silence. . . . But time travels slow Here in the dusk watching over you, wondering, wondering How you could slip from a love that encircled you so ? Soon they will come for you : soon they will take you away — Maybe to-morrow, dear, maybe — I know not — to-day : Somebody, ages ago, came to cover you, cover you — Under white masses of lilies your sweetness to lay. Merciful Death ! Is he merciful . . . ? Sweet, are you cold ? Ages and ages ago, dear, your hands I could fold Warm in my own ; because Life would so cruelly, cruelly, Comfort of warmth from those frail little fingers with- hold. 30 ROUGH EDGES. Soon they will come for you : soon they will leave me alone, Roaming in desolate places you never have known. Ages and ages will pass very wearily, wearily Over my heart and my brain that are turned into stone. SILENCES. 31 SILENCES. Silence of noon on the plain, when the sun in debauch of his power Forces all flesh to bow down and acknowledge the might of his sway : Tuning the querulous lips to a pitiful prayer of the hour, " Give night for day ! " Silence of night in the house, by the sounds of the silence unbroken : Whisper of wind in the eaves, and the march of the clocks, and the light Rattle of rain on the roof — till the travailing thought is outspoken, " Give day for night ! " Silence of love in a heart that has tasted the sweets of surrender : Silence that whispers to-day what the ultimate ages shall prove; " Neither this life of its heat, nor the grave of its cold may engender Death unto love ! " 32 ROUGH EDGES. Silence of death, where they lie in the vault of the infinite spaces, Learning the soundless refrain of the stars — on the waft of a breath Borne from the valleys and plains to the heights of the peace that embraces Love — beyond death. TRANCE. 33 TRANCE. Day after day, for a thousand days and ten I entered the gates of Fairyland ; ' And Youth, with a quivering hand Upheld me above all men, Over the stars and away, beyond the Fates. Night after night, for a thousand nights and nine I dreamed a dream of soft content : And what has the vision meant, If never content be mine . . . ? Nothing that is — but the soul of things that seem. 34 ROUGH EDGES. MOTHER NATURE. Upon the hush of dawn a cry Gurgled, and broke, and rang : and I — Or was it I, or was it you Were born to tread the mill anew ? Infancy, childhood, laughed and wept While Nature, unobtrusive, slept : So childhood set, and manhood dawned — And Nature stretched herself, and yawned. Insensibly, and subtly wise, She hid herself behind our eyes : Whence, from her ambush, here or there To guide our glance, constrain our stare. She prompted you, — or was it me ? — To see what she would have us see : Incited me, — or was it you ? — To do what she would have us do. * * * ^: $ •:.: And when her weary work was wrought, Rewarded us with Afterthought. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. 35 LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. Who has pulled at a runaway horse ? Who has steadied the rush of a car Running at forty, or more — And a tottering child in the course, Dropped from a star, Smiling in death's very door? You that have done it, and know, You can remember the place : You can remember the red Heat of an iron hot glow Strike on your face, Leaving you cold as the dead : Heat of a furnace, — and chill ! Pulses and muscles and brain Flagging to speed of a thought ! Impotent reason and will Leagued to enchain Seconds with centuries fraught ! c 2 36 ROUGH EDGES. So, to the shock of a soul, Love may outleap on a heart, Instant, abrupt, unsuppressed Snatching content for his toll ! Wrenching apart Reason and will, for his jest ! FLAMES. 37 FLAMES. A man rode out to the North : In the fire of his youth did he search For the charm that lies in a church, And a bride led forth. The man sped swift to the South ; For his love into flames had burst, And his heart was dry with the thirst Of a deathly drouth. The man fled far to the East ; For his love had fired at a look That had recked nor of ring, nor book, Nor of bride, nor priest ! The man walked into the West ; And he watched from his bended knees E'en the sun's fire quenched by the seas- But he found no rest. The man stood still for a space ; And he looked at the stars above, And he saw they were lit by Love — And he hid his face. 38 ROUGH EDGES. HERE AND THERE AND BACK AGAIN. One landau load, — and everything is splendid ! Slippers on the axle-bar, and rice upon the hood ! Ardour and virginity, alone and unattended, So much have undertaken and so little understood One small car-load has sped in one direction : One small car-load has fled the other way : Clanking very loudly are the shackles of selection, That fetter, for a fancy, the To-morrow and To-day. One black hearse load, and mourners coming after : One small bundle at the bottom of the sea : Here and there and back again — the little day of laughter, The little day of weariness forgotten — they are free ! LOVE AND LOGIC. 39 LOVE AND LOGIC. Love and Logic met one day In a straight and narrow way : Lips upending, on their toes, Like a pair of mongrel foes Looked askance, pretending ease, Raised their hackles, sniffed the breeze- Ere they settled once for all Which of them should take the wall. Love gave challenge with a bay ; " Do you fight or clear the way ? " Logic whimpered ; " Not in haste " Blood and tissue let us waste ! " Fighting were a grave emprise " For the handsome and the wise." Quicker than the words are wrote Love had Logic by the throat : Left him there, to bleed or die For his dull philosophy ! 4 o ROUGH EDGES. VULCAN. Where Vulcan stood to his hammer, And swung, and sweated, and wrought To forge a bolt for the thunder store, There came to the foundry's open door A weary woman, whose eyes were fraught With pain, in the deafening clamour. She watched him heave at the bellows, She saw the curve of his back As he tapped and tapered the red-hot wedge And tempered the mass to a razor edge, Ere the red turned grey, and the grey turned black, And he flung it down with its fellows. And while fresh iron was heating He stepped to the cool night hreeze That soothed the ache of his sleepless eyes ; And stretched his muscles with mighty sighs — But he sought in vain for a moment's ease, For his work knew no completing. VULCAN. 41 He reached to a low-hung rafter, And fingered a Titan cup Half filled with water; and scarce had quaffed Ere he turned to his work once more, and laughed As he thought of the nectar he used to sup Through Olympian nights of laughter! But e'en as the god was turning His halting hamstrung bulk, A fold of the woman's cloak flew wide, And he roared aloud, as he wrenched aside, " Ho there ! I can see your shadow skulk, "Your shape slipped my discerning, " For the firelight flares between us — " But I caught you lurking there ! " Stand forth in a light where a god may see, " And declare yourself, whoe'er you be ! " And the woman stepped from the furnace glare, And she said, " My name is Venus." Then the lame god eyed her dumbly, And plucked at his grimy beard, And murmured low in an undertone ; " Ah yes ! 'Tis she, as I might have known, " Though her face is haggard and wan and seared — " Yet the baggage still is comely ! " 42 ROUGH EDGES. And while he muttered and mumbled, And gnawed at his knuckly fist, And stood cross-fired 'tween love and doubt, Lo ! the wanton reached her thin hands out- No longer blind to a love she'd missed, As into his arms she stumbled ! IN THE SHADOWS. 43 IN THE SHADOWS. Father Time, I pray, can you bear with me a space ? Grant me, Lord of years, but a little hour of grace ! For the night is young, O Time ! too young as yet : Lo ! My mind and my will are set ! Clocks are ticking my dirge apace ! Judge me now, O Time ! I am broken down in trust : Must I yield this treasure of life to moth, and rust ? I have tried and tested life, and weighed its worth : Must I anchor my soul to earth ? Should I shake from my feet her dust ? Old and deaf you are, and I call you, Time, unheard ! Dumb withal, for never your cruel lips have stirred ! Shall I wait the answer you disdain to give ? — I, who purpose to die, not live ? — Not for long I abide your word ! Answers, all but thine, I have heard, O Time, long since ! Answer coined of Faith, that may calm, but not con- vince ; And the word of Hope, that broke my heart erst- while : Courage answered, — that I defile : Love made answer, to whine and wince. 44 ROUGH EDGES. Tired I am of guessing what planes my soul will tread ! Always will it wander alive with pain ? Or dead, Will it fall to sleep once more in earth's warm womb, Thence to blossom again, and bloom, Brought to life in an age ahead ? Yonder will it torture itself with doubt, as here ? Yonder learn the issue of shame, the flux of fear, Where the Fears are made : where Shame stands stripped and stark, Flaring beacon to pierce the dark Where the derelict ghost doth steer ? Yonder find a prison of souls, whose shameful deed Wrought for self-enfranchisement, loosed their lives, and freed From the bonds that they could break, but could not bear, Restless spirits that gasped for air 'Neath the smother of code and creed ? Where with horror horror may mate, beyond all thought : Where the lamentation of these is echoed, caught By an answering choir, damned thrice more deep than they: Where a year is a single day, Where the passage of Time is naught. IN THE SHADOWS. 45 Will it walk Elysian fields, and find its rest ? Will it fare by Lethe, and reach the Islands Blest, Unoppressed of task, and toil, and trust ill-paid, While the past and the future fade, Lost to sight in the moment's quest ? Tired am I of guessing — I fain would see and know ! Fain would take in hand my adventure, weal or woe, Or for good, or ill, or void forgetfulness : Future ages may curse or bless ! Fate to-night shall decide my throw ! Come ! To drink this measure ? Ah ! well, that's swiftly done ! Is it soft to swallow, I wonder ? Will it run In my veins like fire and flame ? . . . They say 'tis sweet : Will it drop me dead at my feet ? . . . Will it hurt, I wonder, — I won . . . ? 46 ROUGH EDGES HIATUS. Over the edge of the earth, where the skies are hot, Flower of Reality blooms in a garden plot, Formless and colourless, scentless and seeding not. Under the film of the sea, on a coral bank Rots an Ideal that sailed for the East, and sank Buckled, and broken, and gutted and lean and lank. Blotting the fleece of a cloud between sea and sky Hovers an eagle — and giddily there swing I, Gripped in his talons, to stifle — and fall — and die. THOUGHT. 47 THOUGHT. As dies away the droning hum, That syncopates a brain Till drab senility o'ercome The profitless refrain : As springs to life the vital spark, Subconscious, to inspire And fling man forth upon the dark, A tongue of living fire, That pulses, probes — with throb and thrust Eternally acute To kiss the clouds, or lick the dust — Now archangel, now brute : From highest heaven, to lowest hell, As forth and back again, — From Lucifer to Gabriel, — Revolves the endless chain : So lead the mazes unto God, In sweeping circles wrought : Or skimmed, or scaled, or tripped, or trod, By embassy of thought. 4 8 ROUGH EDGES. FORGETFULNESS. Though the Faith a man boast be a fanciful ghost Of the Faith he caressed in his youth : Though like Pilate of old he be hardened and cold, And has said in his heart, " What is Truth ? " Though the Hope that he held has been drowned and dispelled In the turbulent waters of life : Though his banner be furled in the eyes of the world, And he turns him to flee from the strife : Though the Love that he bore has been wrecked on the shore Of the desolate island of Self: Though the dreams that he dreamt are so soiled and unkempt, That he lays them aside on the shelf: Though the cup of his fate has been bitter of late, And his happiness worn to a wraith — There is life in him yet, be he strong to forget A dead love, a vain hope, a false faith ! LONDON. 49 LONDON. O London ! you gaudy old lady, So make-believe young, and so old, Whose allurements are showy or shady Alike to be sold : There are those who have made it their mission To trace an original clue In pursuit of the cult and tradition Of beauty in you. They have sung your immaculate river, Your delicate skies they have sung, Who of flattery are fain to deliver Their travailing tongue. Oh ! I see the adornment of patches — The beauty spots gummed to your cheek, Where the glint of a pinnacle catches The eye, or you seek In the veil of your smoke an invention Complexion of heaven to enhance ; Or by glitter of gas make pretension Of diamonds, perchance ? 5 o ROUGH EDGES. But my fancy rebels at the touches Of rouge in your chimney-lit sky, And the powder of fog, and the smutches Of carbon's black dye ! Adoration of beauty to utter, I seek not the aid of your priest, Who would have me to delve in the gutter For gems of the East : While an amethyst belt of the heather, An emerald edge of the seas, And the turquoise of midsummer weather Endow me with these ! Can you borrow from Nature the splendour She grants to the commonest field — Her virginity, loth to surrender, But panting to yield ? Or has Art in your honour been eager Her skill and her labour to spare ? Are her gifts you can boast rich or meagre, Or common, or rare ? — Save the art of your old beauty doctor, Whose clever cosmetics and dyes Have unwrinkled Old Age, and have frocked her So Jezebel-wise ! — LONDON. 51 London ! my mother, who bore me, A mutinous infant, and late ; Of your children born since and before me Are others ingrate, Or alone am I blind to the beauty That even those strangers descry Who adopt you — in filial duty More urgent than I ? * * * * * * 1 am blind — and your offspring ? . . . So be it ! Let mine be the prodigal's part ! Though they sing of your beauty, who see it, I harden my heart ! 52 ROUGH EDGES. COME AWAY! Come away, to a place where the skies and the seas are blue! Where the palm-trees are tall : where the night, and the day, and all, all The long hours of the moon and the sun will be kind to you! Where the day is a love-laden look that the sun has shot, With a masterly aim, as he wheels on his way, to in- flame The fair face of the earth with the glow that his glance begot. Where the night is to earth a diaphanous violet veil, Her allurement to ward and conceal from the sight of her lord, Till the fingers of dawn brush aside a defence so frail. Where the waft of the westerly wind is a soft caress : Where the northerly gale is a freshening draught ; and the trail Of the hungriest hurricane shows not a leaf the less. COME AWAY. 53 Where the rain is outpoured as the wine of a yearly feast : From no haphazard cask, — here a drop, there a drain, here a flask ; — But in measured profusion of seasonal flow released. Where the airs are all soft with the faint and the full perfumes Of all manner of spice. Where earth's luxury dares to entice To their place on her breast all her tenderest orchid blooms. To a land where the light and the dark are a jewelled girth Of alternate design, inconceivably planned, to entwine With a girdle of sapphire and amber the circling earth. Come away ! For the flame of our fugitive youth burns dim ! Let us fly from this land, so inclement, so grey ! Let us stand In the gates of the sun, for a space, to be blest of him ! 5 4 ROUGH EDGES. DAYBREAK. When brilliant and broken, Dawn's earliest token Is flung from the edge of the skies, To signal a warning " Awake ! It is morning ! Aurora has opened her eyes ! " When Luna, disdaining surrender, is feigning To rally the rout of the stars ; Or ever Apollo compels her to follow The banished battalions of Mars: When tired of sleeping, the daylight is peeping Out over the blankets of clouds : When herbage and flower a gossamer shower Of spider-wrought jewelry shrouds : When dazzled and flustered the owlets have mustered To roost in the ivy-clad wall : When, heavenward shooting, the skylark is fluting The sweetest reveille of all : I wake from my dreaming, to find the world gleaming With splendours that cannot be told — The heavens above me have heard that you love me, And decked them in raiment of gold ! FRIENDS. 55 FRIENDS. Though I search through the length of the land To its uttermost ends, On the fingers and thumb of my hand I can tally the friends Whose affection and trust will be mine, Undetacbed, undeterred, While I walk with the ninety and nine — When I stray from the herd. Am I speedy to honour my debt ? Do I give as I take ? For the confidence I can beget What return do I make ? Are there five whom I trust and respect, In my innermost soul ? Whom I analyse not nor dissect, But perceive as a whole ? Whom I love for whatever they are, For whatever they seem : Inasmuch as they make, as they mar, As they do, as they dream ? 56 ROUGH EDGES. I have looked in my heart for a hope That my debt I fulfil : There are four, may come rack, may come rope, I am fain of them still : There is one who may hover or soar Overhead, but near by — Would I cheat such a friendship ? . . . No more Would I mock the Most High ! CIGARETTE. 57 CIGARETTE. Little friend cigarette, little pulse of the fugitive hours, From the misty remembrance of dreams we are fain to forget, To the visions unveiled by your magic that sparkles and glowers, — Little friend cigarette ! By the laugh that rings loud, by the teardrops that scintillate yet, In the hour of success, in the moment of failure that sours : While a jest may endear, while a dim innuendo may fret; With a wavering will, with a purpose that points and empowers : In affliction, and joy ; in the coldness of life, and its sweat — Can the future find paths to be trod that have never been ours, Little friend cigarette ? D 2 5 8 ROUGH EDGES. SLEEP. Since joy must hew to sorrow, If not to-day, to-morrow, What strength have I to borrow A balance of content, But by your grace, O Slumber ! The while your hours outnumber The weary hours that cumber The way that sorrow went ? O Slumber ! do not dally, But lead me from the valley Where woe and waking tally, And consciousness is grief, To Dreamland's mountain levels, Where, purged of doubts and devils, Imagination revels, The mother of belief! MOORINGS. 59 MOORINGS. Sometimes I fancy a haven Over the rim of the skies, Where the poor heart of a craven Gathers itself to arise. There, where the Pleiades cluster Out on the edges of space, All the surrenderers muster, All the defeated have place. There tread the feet of the humble, Learning their weakness unloth : Laughing aloud when they stumble, Trusting the treaty of growth. Far from the sight and the seeming ; Near to the life and the breath : Such is the port of my dreaming, Such is the haven of death. VINCENT, PRINTER, OXFORD. DATE DUE SFB 1 4 1972 ■ - CAYLORD PRINTED IN USA. ,45 SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 614 741