LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA RIVERSIDE SONGS FROM THE CLAY MACMILLAN AND CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, Ltd. TORONTO SONGS FROM THE CLAY BY JAMES ^STEPHENS AUTHOR OF THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER,' ' THE HILL OF VISION, 'THE CROCK OF GOLD,' ETC MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED ST. MARTIN'S STREET, LONDON 1915 COPYRIGHT CONTENTS I'AOE And it was Windy Weather 1 The Rivals ..... 2 The Messenger 4 The Daisies 6 To be Continued 7 A Song for Lovers 9 The Horned Moon 11 In Woods and Meadows 13 Deirdre .... 14 The Petal of a Rose 17 Sweet Apple 18 The Red-Haired Man 20 The Satyr . 23 The Goat Paths 25 In the Night 28 The Earth Gods 30 Hesperus .... . 32 A Tune on a Reed 34 The Market 37 Independence 38 The Wild Man . 39 The Twins . 40 The Waste Places 41 Washed in Silver 45 The Voice of God . 46 vi SONGS FROM THE CLAY The Centaurs . PACE . 48 The Lark ...... . 50 The Snare ...... . 52 The Cage ...... . 54 Barbarians ...... . 56 The Masterless Man . . 58 The Buds ...... 59 Green Boughs . . 61 As Evening Falls . . 63 Blue Stars and Gold . 64 The Imp ...... . 65 The Nodding Stars . 67 The Crown of Thorns . 70 The Ancient Elf . 71 The King of the Fairy Men . 13 Irony ...... . 74 The Four Old Men . . 75 Women Shapes .... . 76 The Clouds .... . 78 This Way to Winter . 80 Etched in Frost . 82 When the Leaves Fall . 84 In Green Ways .... . 85 At the Edge of the Sea . . 86 Dark Wings .... . 88 The Liar ..... . 90 The Tramp's Dream . 93 The Road ..... . 97 A Reply ..... • 99 The Holy Time .... . 105 AND IT WAS WINDY WEATHER Now the winds are riding by, Clouds are galloping the sky, And the trees are lashing their Leafy plumes upon the air ; They are crying as they sway — " Pull the roots out of the clay, Dance away, O, dance away; Leave the rooted place and speed To the hill-side and the mead, To the roaring seas we go, Chase the airy birds, and know, Flying high, flying high, All the freedom of the sky, All the freedom of the sky." B THE RIVALS I heard a bird at dawn Singing sweetly on a tree, That the dew was on the lawn, And the wind was on the lea ; But I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me. I didn't listen to him, For he didn't sing to me That the dew was on the lawn And the wind was on the lea ; I was singing at the time Just as prettily as he. I was singing all the time, Just as prettily as he, THE RIVALS About the dew upon the lawn And the wind upon the lea ; So I didn't listen to him As he sang upon a tree. THE MESSENGER Bee ! tell me whence do you come ? Ten fields away, twenty perhaps, Have heard your hum. If you are from the north, you may Have passed my mother's roof of straw Upon your way. If you came from the south, you should Have seen another cottage just Inside the wood. And should you go back that way, please Carry a message to the house Among the trees. THE MESSENGER 5 Say — I will wait her at the rock Beside the stream, this very night At eight o'clock. And ask your queen when you get home To send my queen the present of A honeycomb. THE DAISIES In the scented bud of the morning-O, When the windy grass went rippling far, I saw my dear one walking slow, In the field where the daisies are. We did not laugh and we did not speak As we wandered happily to and fro ; I kissed my dear on either cheek, In the bud of the morning-O. A lark sang up from the breezy land, A lark sang down from a cloud afar, And she and I went hand in hand, In the field where the daisies are. TO BE CONTINUED I smiled at the angry maid, And said that I did not care Whether she went or stayed. And she, going down the glade, Thought, "Now he will fall to prayer." I smiled at the angry maid. Indeed I was sore afraid ; But I said it was her affair Whether she went or stayed. About her a nimbus rayed Where the sun made love to her hair. I smiled at the angry maid. 8 TO BE CONTINUED And while, like a fool, I played, I had not a smile to spare Whether she went or stayed. She in her youth arrayed ! I stolid and scant of hair ! I smiled at the angry maid Whether she went or stayed. A SONG FOR LOVERS The moon is shining on the sea : Every night the moon looks down Through the spaces quietly ; And no matter though I be In the houses of the town, Something always says to me, The moon is shining on the sea. Along the boulevard I pace, Peeping up among the trees, And I see her gentle face Looking through immensities ; And while I stare there comes to me The distant murmur of the sea. For they love each other well : All across the depth of space 10 A SONG FOR LOVERS They are reaching out their arms, They are looking face to face, The pretty, timid moon and the Poor, unhappy, little sea. THE HORNED MOON The heavens were silent and bare, Not a star lit the heights overhead, There was not a stir in the air, And the people were all gone to bed. I was there all alone in the night, With the moon, and we talked for a while, And her face was a wonder of light, And her smile was a beautiful smile. She leaned down and I nearly went mad (And she was as frightened as me), But I got the kiss that she had Intended to give to the sea. 11 12 THE HORNED MOON Then the sea gave a leap of surprise, And shouted that she was a jade, So the moon ran away through the skies, And I hid myself in the glade. After that we were never alone, We were watched day and night, and they tied The unhappy young moon to her throne, Till I married a different bride. IN WOODS AND MEADOWS Play to the tender stops, though cheerily : Gently my soul, my song : let no one hear : Sing to thyself alone ; thine ecstasy Rising in silence to the inward ear That is attuned to silence : do not. tell A friend, a bird, a star, lest they should say — He danced in woods and meadows all the day, Waving his arms, and cried as evening fell, " 0, do not come," and cried, " O, come, thou queen, And walk with me unwatched upon the green Under the sky.'' 55 13 DEIRDRE Do not let any woman read this verse ; It is for men, and after them their sons And their sons' sons. The time comes when our hearts sink utterly ; When we remember Deirdre and her tale, And that her lips are dust. Once she did tread the earth : men took her hand ; They looked into her eyes and said their say, And she replied to them. 14 DEIRDRE 15 More than a thousand years it is since she Was beautiful : she trod the waving grass ; She saw the clouds. A thousand years ! The grass is still the same, The clouds as lovely as they were that time When Deirdre was alive. But there has never been a woman born Who was so beautiful, not one so beautiful Of all the women born. Let all men go apart and mourn together ; No man can ever love her ; not a man Can ever be her lover. 16 DEIRDRE No man can bend before her : no man say— What could one say to her ? There are no words That one could say to her ! Now she is but a story that is told Beside the fire ! No man can ever be The friend of that poor queen. THE PETAL OF A ROSE Let us be quiet for a while, The morrow comes : let us be still : Let us close our eyes and smile, Knowing that the morrow will Come as certain as the sun Or a sorrow : let us be Peaceful till this night be done, And we waken up to see That the thing is not in view, That the memory is gone, And the world is made anew Different for every one : Different ! The morrow glows Where the black wings spread and brood, Where the petal of a rose Blushes in the solitude. 17 n SWEET APPLE (After Sappho) At the end of the bough, at the top of the tree (As fragrant, as high, and as lovely as thou !), One sweet apple reddens which all men may see At the end of the bough. Swinging full to the view, though the gatherers now Pass, and evade, overlook busily : Overlook ! nay, but pluck it ! They cannot tell how. 18 SWEET APPLE 19 For it swings out of reach as a cloud, and as free As a star, or thy beauty,which seems too, I vow, Remote as the sweet rosy apple — ah me ! At the end of the bough. THE RED-HAIRED MAN But what is it that I have done to you : Why did you go away so suddenly : Is it that I am ugly : is it true That I am very ugly : did you see Me peeping like a satyr through a tree : Was it my ugly face that frightened you? Was it my ugly face, say, was it so : Was it my figure, tell me, am I lame : Do I go hopping like a wounded crow Under a hedge : come, speak to me, my dame ! 20 THE RED-HAIRED MAN 21 Or have you heard of me an evil fame : Is that the reason why you had to go ? You had to go ! Or did you go for fun, To see if I would come and search for you ? If it be thus, behold ! the game is done, For I am seeking, calling, torn in two, Lost and bewildered ! what am I to do To bring you back again, my hope, my sun ! My hope, my sun, my only thing of true : My promise and my treasure, my delight : My inmost, secret dream that no one knew : 22 THE RED-HAIRED MAN My sun that shines upon me in the night : My moon that looks at me when day is bright : What is it, then, that I have done to you? THE SATYR There came a satyr creeping through the wood, His hair fell on his breast, his legs were slim : His eyes were laughing wickedly, he stood And peeped about on every side of him. He peeped about, he minced upon the ground, He put a thin hand up to hide a grin : He doubled up and laughed without a sound ; The very bodiment of happy sin. 23 24 THE SATYR The bodiment of sin : timid and wild And limber as a goat : his pointed feet Were not at peace an instant : like a child He danced and glanced, and like a goat was fleet. He danced, he peeped, but at a sound I made, A crackling twig, he turned and suddenly In three great jumps he bounded to the shade, And disappeared among the greenery. THE GOAT PATHS The crooked paths go every way Upon the hill — they wind about Through the heather in and out Of the quiet sunniness. And there the goats, day after day, Stray in sunny quietness, Cropping here and cropping there, As they pause and turn and pass, Now a bit of heather spray, Now a mouthful of the grass. In the deeper sunniness, In the place where nothing stirs, Quietly in quietness, In the quiet of the furze, For a time they come and lie Staring on the roving sky. 25 26 THE GOAT PATHS If you approach they run away, They leap and stare, away they bound, With a sudden angry sound, To the sunny quietude ; Crouching down where nothing stirs In the silence of the furze, Couching down again to brood In the sunny solitude. If I were as wise as they I would stray apart and brood, I would beat a hidden way Through the quiet heather spray To a sunny solitude ; And should you come I'd run away, I would make an angry sound, I would stare and turn and bound To the deeper quietude, To the place where nothing stirs In the silence of the furze. THE GOAT PATHS 27 In that airy quietness I would think as long as they ; Through the quiet sunniness I would stray away to brood By a hidden beaten way In a sunny solitude. I would think until I found Something I can never find, Something lying on the ground, In the bottom of my mind. IN THE NIGHT There always is a noise when it is dark ; It is the noise of silence and the noise Of blindness. The noise of silence and the noise of blindness Do frighten me, They hold me stark and rigid as a tree ! These frighten me, These hold me stark and rigid as a tree ! Because at last their tumult is more loud Than thunder. 28 IN THE NIGHT 29 Because at last Their tumult is more loud than thunder : They terrify my soul, They tear my heart asunder ! THE EARTH GODS The gods are on the mountain, they Have sat together in a ring For a night and for a day Talking over everything. Talking over many things. All the gods are sitting there, And from every forehead springs A fiery plume upon the air. Forty feet into the air The flames are roaring, and the sky Meets the marble brows of care, As they talk of you and I. 30 THE EARTH GODS 31 While they talk of you and I Do not make a sound, be still, Hide among the leaves and fly From the gods upon the hill. HESPERUS (After Sappho) Upon the sober sky thy robes are spread, They drape the twilight, veil on quiet veil, Until the lingering daylight all has fled Before thee, modest goddess, shadow- pale : The hushed and reverent sky Her diadem of stars has lifted high. The tender lamb, the bleating kid, the fawn, All that the sunburnt day has scattered wide, 32 HESPERUS 33 Thou dost regather, holding till the dawn Each flower and tree and beast unto thy side : The sheep come to the pen, The dreams come to the men, And to the mother's breast The tired child doth come and take his rest. Evening gathers everything Scattered by the morning, Fold for sheep and nest for wing, Evening gathers everything, Child to mother, queen to king Running at thy warning ; Evening gathers everything Scattered by the morning. A TUNE ON A REED I have a pipe of oaten straw, I play upon it when I may, And the music that I draw Is as happy as the day. It has seven holes, and I Play upon it high and low ; I can make it laugh and cry, I can make it banish woe. Any tune you like to name I will play it at the word, Old or new is all the same, I'm as ready as a bird. 34 A TUNE ON A REED 35 No one pipes so happily, Not a piper can succeed When I lean against a tree Blowing gently on my reed. 36 A TUNE ON A REED ii But there is a tune, and though I try to play it day and night, Blowing high and blowing low, I can never get it right. I know the tune without a flaw, And yet that tune I cannot play On my pipe of oaten straw, Though I practise night and day. It seems to me I never will Play again the happy air Which I heard upon a hill When the Shee were dancing there. Little pipe ! be good to me ! And play the tune I want to play, Or I will smash you on a tree, And throw your wicked halves away. THE MARKET A man came to me at the fair And said, " If you've a poet's tongue Tumble up and chant the air That the stars of morning sung. " I'll pay you, if you sing it nice, A penny-piece." — I answered flat, " Sixpence is the proper price For a ballad such as that." But he stared and wagged his head, Growling as he passed along, " Sixpence ! well, I'll see you dead Before I pay that for a song." I saw him buy three pints of stout With the sixpence — dirty lout ! 37 INDEPENDENCE I grew single and sure, And I will not endure That my mind should be seen By the sage or the boor. I will keep, if I can, From each brotherly man : The help of their hands Is no part of my plan. I will rise then and go To the land of my foe, For his scowl is the sun That shall cause me to grow. 38 THE WILD MAN Where the stars are singing high In their mighty dwellings, I Have a habitation too, And I slip away from you, In the night-time or the day, And you don't know I'm away. I can go out when I please, I can soar upon a breeze, I can dodge from any eye, I can straddle on the sky, I can run away and be Gone while you are watching me. Where the stars go shouting by In the heavens, there am I, Leaping like a goat upon Jupiter and Orion : Then what do I care for thee Who are always watching me. 39 THE TWINS Good and bad are in my heart, But I cannot tell to you (For they never are apart) Which is stronger of the two. I am this, I am the other, And the devil is my brother. But my father He is God, And my mother is the sod ; Therefore, I am safe, you see, Owing to my pedigree. So I shelter love and hate Like twin brothers in a nest, Lest I find when it's too late That the other was the best. 40 THE WASTE PLACES As a naked man I go Through the desert sore afraid, Holding up my head, although I am as frightened as a maid. The couching lion there I saw From barren rocks lift up his eye, He parts the cactus with his paw, He stares at me as I go by. He would follow on my trace If he knew I was afraid, If he knew my hardy face Hides the terrors of a maid. 41 42 THE WASTE PLACES In the night he rises, and He stretches forth, he snuffs the air, He roars and leaps along the sand, He creeps and watches everywhere. His burning eyes, his eyes of bale, Through the darkness I can see ; He lashes fiercely with his tail, He would love to spring at me. I am the lion in his lair, I am the fear that frightens me, I am the desert of despair, And the nights of agony. Night or day, whate'er befall, I must walk that desert land, Until I can dare to call The lion out to lick my hand. THE WASTE PLACES 43 ii As a naked man I tread The gloomy forests, ring on ring, Where the sun that's overhead Cannot see what's happening. There I go : the deepest shade, The deepest silence pressing me, And my heart is more afraid Than a maiden's heart would be. Every day I have to run Underneath the demon tree, Where the ancient wrong is done, While I shrink in agony. There the demon held a maid In his arms, and as she, daft, Screamed again in fear he laid His lips upon her lips and laughed. 44 THE WASTE PLACES And she beckoned me to run, And she called for help to me. And the ancient wrong was done Which is done eternally. I am the maiden and the fear, I am the sunless shade, the strife, I the demon lips, the sneer Showing under every life. I must tread that gloomy way Until I shall dare to run And bear the demon with his prey From the forest to the sun. WASHED IN SILVER Gleaming in silver are the hills, Blazing in silver is the sea, And a silvery radiance spills Where the moon drives royally. Clad in silver tissue I March magnificently by. 45 THE VOICE OF GOD I bent again unto the ground, And I heard the quiet sound Which the grasses make when they Come up laughing from the clay. " We are the voice of God," they said Thereupon I bent my head Down again that I might see If they truly spoke to me. But around me everywhere Grass and tree and mountain were Thundering in mighty glee, " We are the voice of Deity." 46 THE VOICE OF GOD 47 And I leapt from where I lay, I danced upon the laughing clay, And, to the rock that sang beside, "We are the voice of God," I cried. THE CENTAURS Playing upon the hill three centaurs were ! They lifted each a hoof and stared at me, And stamped upon the dust. They stamped the dust, they snuffed upon the air, And all their movements had the fierce glee Of power and pride and lust. Of power and pride and lust ! then with a shout They tossed their heads and wheeled and galloped round In furious brotherhood. 48 THE CENTAURS 49 In furious brotherhood, around, about, They charged, they swerved, they leaped ; then, bound on bound, They raced into the wood. E THE LARK There is a small bird cowering in the dark ; His wing is broken, he will never sing; He will not sing again, the little lark That has a broken wing. The lark that cowers with a broken wing Is all alone ; his mate has gone away ; To-morrow in the fields his mate will sing Her merry lay. 60 THE LARK 51 His mate will sing again her merry lay In the green fields, forgetting he is gone; But he will never rouse a sunny day Again for any one. He will not sing again for any one ; The wing is broken of that little lark ; His song is broken, and his heart is gone There in the dark. THE SNARE To A. E. I hear a sudden cry of pain ! There is a rabbit in a snare : Now I hear the cry again, But I cannot tell from where. But I cannot tell from where He is calling out for aid ; Crying on the frightened air, Making everything afraid. Making everything afraid, Wrinkling up his little face, As he cries again for aid ; And I cannot find the place ! 52 THE SNARE 53 And I cannot find the place Where his paw is in the snare : Little one ! Oh, little one ! I am searching everywhere. THE CAGE It tried to get from out the cage ; Here and there it ran, and tried At the edges and the side, In a busy, timid rage. Trying yet to find the key Into freedom, trying yet, In a timid rage, to get To its old tranquillity. It did not know, it did not see, It did not turn an eye, or care That a man was watching there While it raged so timidly. 54 THE CAGE 55 It ran without a sound, it tried, In a busy, timid rage, To escape from out the cage By the edges and the side. BARBARIANS I pause beside the stream and hear The waters talking all the way ; If I had a proper ear I could tell you what they say. The lovely tree against the sky, Which the first sun rests upon. Has a message for my eye, If I had a proper one. On the heath I met a wind, It whispered to me as I stood ; If I had a proper mind I could answer, so I could. 66 BARBARIANS 57 I am deaf and dumb and blind, No reply can I invent When a stream, a tree, a wind Asks am I intelligent. THE MASTERLESS MAN Now it is my turn to sing In the service of the spring ; I must lift a note and call Bird and beast to madrigal. But on mountain, peak, and shelf, Over wood and plain and glade, Spring is singing for herself, She can do without my aid. She can do without my aid ! So I need not sing to you : Singing is my only trade ! What the deuce am I to do ? 68 THE BUDS I can see The buds have come again On every tree. Through some dear intercourse of sun and dew, And thrilling root, and folding earth, anew They come in beauty. They up to the sun, As on a breast, are lifting every one Their leaves. Under the eaves The sparrows are in hiding Making love. 59 60 THE BUDS There is a chatter in the woods above, Where the black crow Is saying what his sweetheart wants to know. The sun is shining fair, And the green is on the tree, And the wind goes everywhere Whispering so secretly ; You will die unless you do Find a mate to whisper to. GREEN BOUGHS Birds were singing everywhere In the sunny spaces, Blackbird, thrush, and linnet were Flashing through the flashing air Full of airs and graces. Up and down and round about, Soaring, gliding, swinging, Darting in and scudding out, While through all the pretty rout Came their frantic singing. And upon the sunny view Happy trees were holding Pretty baby leaves anew, Freshly bathed in the dew, For the sun's beholding. 61 62 GREEN BOUGHS Loud he shouted through the plain (Golden- voiced and glad he), Dance them up with might and main, Toss the baby leaves again Till they see their daddy. AS EVENING FALLS At eve the horse is freed of plough or wain, And all things turn from labour unto rest ; The scattered sheep are gathering home again, And every bird is winging to its nest; And every beast goes to his den once more By hedge or hill. Each mother is aware That little feet Have paused in field or street, And she will hear a knocking at the door And open it, and see her children there. 63 BLUE STARS AND GOLD While walking through the trams and cars I chanced to look up at the sky, And saw that it was full of stars. So starry-sown that you could not, With any care, have stuck a pin Through any single vacant spot. And some were shining furiously, And some were big and some were small, But all were beautiful to see. Blue stars and gold, a sky of grey, The air between a velvet pall ; I could not take my eyes away. And there I sang this little psalm Most awkwardly, because I was Standing between a car and tram. 64 THE IMP At the evening hour I bend In a reverential awe, Day draws darkly to its end, In fulfilment of the law : So I bow and make my peace, To the power of gloom I pray, For he causeth day to cease By his universal Nay. When the sun shines bright again And the day laughs to the sky, When the distant hills are plain To the leaping of my eye ; Lust of life shall make me sin, Sin and laugh and dance and pray To him who makes the day begin By his universal Yea. 65 F 66 THE IMP Yea and nay and here and there, Back and forth, begin and end, Joy and woe and foul and fair, Give and take and break and mend ; These are words which I despise Although at morn and eve I pray, Throwing dust into the eyes Of the gods of Yea and Nay. THE NODDING STARS I think the stars do nod at me, But not when people are about, For they regard me curiously Whenever I go out. I may have been a star one day, One of the rebel host that fell, And they are nodding down to say, " Come back to us from hell." Perhaps they shout to one another " There he is ! " or, "That is he ! " And tell it to some other mother Than the one that walloped me. 67 68 THE NODDING STARS II Brothers ! what is it ye mean ? What is it ye try to say ? That so earnestly ye lean From the spirit to the clay. There are weary gulfs between Here and sunny Paradise, Brothers ! what is it ye mean That ye search with burning eyes Down for me whose fire is clogged, Clamped in sullen earthy mould, Battened down and fogged and bogged Where the clay is seven-fold ? THE NODDING STARS 69 in If ye mean revolt, if ye Raise the standard, do not seek Help or heartening from me, I am very, very weak; My wings are clipped : the crown of gold Would not fit me now, my rage Is as futile as the scold Of a linnet in a cage. Do ye look to me for aid, O, my brothers far away ? I whom god and star betrayed When ye stamped me into clay ! O, my dears ! I'm nodding, too, Hard as ever I can try, Up and up and up to you, Where you nod upon the sky. THE CROWN OF THORNS A man had many sins, and he Looked upon them pridefully, And thereof he made a crown Of thorns. He made thereof a thorny crown, He pressed it down upon his brow. And he walks in triumph now. And he walks in triumph now, Crowned without and crowned within, He has triumphed over sin. He has triumphed over sin, He named it honour and renown, And thereof he made a crown Of thorns. 70 THE ANCIENT ELF I am the maker, The builder, the breaker, The eagle-winged helper, The speedy forsaker. I am the lyre, The water, the fire, The tooth of oppression, The lips of desire. The snare and the wing, The honey, the sting ; When you seek for me look For a different thing. 71 72 THE ANCIENT ELF I, careless and gay, Never mean what I say, For my thoughts and my eyes Look the opposite way. THE KING OF THE FAIRY MEN I know the man without a soul : He is happy as the day, He is happy, people say. He is happy — so they say : But they do not see him roll On the ground in very dole. All along the ground in dole, When no one is watching, he Bites the ground in agony. He bites the ground in agony : But with people he is whole : I know the man without a soul ! 73 IRONY There spake a man in days of old : " I will believe that God can be As kind and just as we are told, If He will throw down here to me A bag of gold." But when his wife rose from her bed To see what kept her man away, She found him with a broken head, And on the ground beside him lay A bag of lead. 74 THE FOUR OLD MEN In the Cafe where I sit The four old men who look like bards Are playing at a game of cards ; And they are enjoying it. They are so eager at their play, They shout together joyously, They laugh with all their voices, they Are like the little boys you see Playing in your nursery. But they'd be angry, they would rave And swear and take it quite amiss, If you walked across and gave Each a penny and a kiss. 75 WOMEN SHAPES (After Sappho) I could not see, I looked but could not see ! Down through the mists of twenty hundred years I peered profound, Where in a round Stood women shapes who mourned with bitter tears ; Dim mourners ! what is it ye bend to see ? What is it that ye look upon so earnestly ? Will ye not move, Will ye not move aside ? O fluttering robe ! O little foot of white 76 WOMEN SHAPES 77 Pressing the grass ! Move that my eyes may pass Into your mystic circle, to the sight Of that ye gaze upon in mournful way, As though upon the ground some piteous body lay. The moon rose full, The silver moon soared high Upon the clouds, but still we could not see What lay between Those figures on the green, And down the moon and I stared in a mystery; For all the women stood, hushed, as in prayer Around an altar when the god is there. THE CLOUDS I stood and looked around where, far and nigh, The heather bloom was swaying in the air, The clouds chased one another down the sky Beyond my sight, and everywhere The birds flew through the sunshine, where they sang So loud, so clear, so sweet, the heavens rang Of lark and thrush and stare. I never heard a melody so sweet As I heard then ; I never knew a day 78 THE CLOUDS 79 So filled with sunshine ; never saw the fleet And tinted clouds so high and free and gay ; Each danced to the horizon like a boy Let out from school, each tumbled in its joy And ran away. THIS WAY TO WINTER Day by day The sun's broad beam Fades away By a golden gleam ; Hark on the cliff How the sea-gulls scream ! Eve by eve The wind more drear Stays to grieve That the winter's near ; Hark how the crisp leaves Dart and fleer ! Night by night The shade grows dense, 80 THIS WAY TO WINTER 81 And the cold starlight Beams more intense ; Hark how the beggar boy Asks for pence ! Get you out Your muffler grey, Your boots so stout, And your great-coat, pray, And put on your gloves, 'Tis a hardy day. G ETCHED IN FROST The corn is down, The stooks are gone, The fields are brown, And the early dawn Grows slowly behind Where the mountains frown, And a thin white sun Is shivering down. There is not a leaf, Nor anything green, To aid belief That summer has been ; And the puffed-up redbreast (Ball o' Grief) Comes to the window For relief. 82 ETCHED IN FROST 83 The cows are in byre, The sheep in fold, The mare and the sire Are safe from cold, The hens are sheltered, In wood and wire, And the sheep-dog snoozes Before the fire. The farmer can grin, As he rubs his hands, For the crops are in From the resting lands ; And the wheat is stored In the oaken bin, And the farmer's wife Makes merry within. WHEN THE LEAVES FALL When the leaves fall off the trees Everybody walks on them : Once they had a time of ease High above, and every breeze Used to stay and talk to them. Then they were so debonair As they fluttered up and down ; Dancing in the sunny air, Dancing without knowing there Was a gutter in the town. Now they have no place at all ! All the home that they can find Is a gutter by a wall, And the wind that waits their fall Is an apache of a wind. 84 IN GREEN WAYS Among the leaves I make a rhyme, To the winter in its pall, For the poor, forgotten time Has not had a song at all. Winter ! winter ! do not fear, You shall have an icy crown At the falling of the year, When the leaves have tumbled down. I am singing to you here, Though the bud is on the tree, At the falling of the year You will sing a song to me. 85 AT THE EDGE OF THE SEA There was a river that rose In the cool of the morn, It leaped down the side of the mountain, And ran through the meadows and corn, But it came at the last to a cave By the edge of the sea, And it fell through the darkness and vanished Forever from me. I am sad for the river that fell Through the darkness away, From the meadows and corn, from the sun, From the light of the day ; 86 AT THE EDGE OF THE SEA 87 I could weep for the river that danced In the light of the day, And sank through the darkness and vanished Forever away. DARK WINGS Sing while you may, O bird upon the tree ! Although on high, wide - winged above the day Chill evening broadens to immen- sity ; Sing while you may. On thee, wide-hovering too, intent to slay, The hawk's slant pinion buoys him terribly : Thus near the end is of thy happy lay. 88 DARK WINGS 89 The day and thou and miserable me Dark wings shall cover up and hide away Where no song stirs of bird or memory ; Sing while you may. THE LIAR Did you think, Old Grizzly-Face ! to frighten me ? To frighten me who fronted you before Times out of mind, When, through that sudden door, You took and bound and cast me to the sea, Far from my kind, Far from all friendly hands — now I Tremble no longer at your whisper, at your lie. I go with you, but only till the end Of one small hour; and when the hour is done I shall again Arise and leap and run 90 THE LIAR 91 From the wind-swept, icy caves : I shall ascend, I shall attain To the pearly sky and the open door and the infinite sun, And find again my comrades with me, every one. So, once more, here are my hands to wind Your cords about : here are my feet to tie Straitly and fast ; And here, on either eye, Press your strong fingers until I am blind : Now, at the last, Heave me upon your shoulder, whisper- ing sly, As you so oft before have whispered, your dark lie. 92 THE LIAR A day dawns surely when you will not dare To come to me — then you will hide away In your dark lands ; Then you will pray ; You will snarl and tremble when I seek you there To bind your hands, To whisper truth where you have whispered lies, To press my mighty fingers down upon your eyes. THE TRAMP'S DREAM I saw this in a place at the world's end, When He was left alone without a friend : From every side, from far and near they came, The blind and battered and the lewd and lame, The frightened people, and the helpless crew Who hid in cellars, and the stragglers who Dodged here and there in corners of the earth Cursing the sun, and they who from their birth 93 94 THE TRAMP'S DREAM Were lapped in madness, raved, and strode along, Chaunting in fury to a flighty song Their holy wrath : and all the hungry folk, Who through the world had rummaged, yelped, and broke To a stiff run, for vengeance was in view, And every one knew what he had to do. It was the Judgment Day ; and so they sped (These vagabonds who always had been dead), And packed their multitudes into the space Between two stars : a deep and hollow place, Rolling immense, a swirl of blue and grey Steeped out of eye -shot: so it ever lay THE TRAMP'S DREAM 95 Swinging in whispers, prickling to a sound, Till the wind's whimper, rolling round and round, Jolted to thunder, or the dreary sigh Of a dead man drummed madness on the sky. There they were silent, every awful stare, With a dumb grin, was lifting anywhere ; When sudden He came stately, march- ing fleet, From the red sun, with fire about His feet, And flaming brow. And as He walked in fire, Those million, million muzzles lifted higher, Stared at Him, grinned in fury, toned a yelp, A vast malignant query, " Did you help ? " 96 THE TRAMP'S DREAM And at the sound the jangled spaces threw Echo to echo, thunders bit and flew Through deeper thunders, into such a bay The Judge stood frightened, turned, and stole away. THE ROAD Because our lives are cowardly and sly, Because we do not dare to take or give. Because we scowl and pass each other by, We do not live ; we do not dare to live. We dive, each man, into his secret house, And bolt the door, and listen in affright, Each timid man beside a timid spouse, With timid children huddled out of sight. 97 h 98 THE ROAD Kissing in secret, fighting secretly ! We crawl and hide like vermin in a hole, Under the bravery of sun and sky We flash our meannesses of face and soul. Let us go out and walk upon the road, And quit for evermore the brick- built den, The lock and key, the hidden, shy abode That separates us from our fellow- men. And by contagion of the sun we may Catch at a spark from that primeval fire, And learn that we are better than our clay, And equal to the peaks of our desire. A REPLY To Ralph Hodgson You have sent your verse to me And a poet must reply To the gracious courtesy With whatever tune is nigh, With whatever little air Can be plucked from anywhere. Verse has fled from me so long, I have quite forgot to sing ; I who had a hoard of song Now can scarce find anything Worth the singing, though I grope Less with fingers than with hope. 99 H 2 100 A REPLY Singing at your highest tone ! How shall I return the rhyme, Whom the gods have left alone Such a very lengthy time ? So I veer and break and yaw On my little pipe of straw. A REPLY 101 n Lift up my heart, and sing again As once you did when I was young, Before I knew of woe and pain, When every happy bird that sung I sang to it, and it to me Repeated half the melody. Like a thrush at peep of light, I would pipe my sunny lay, Singing how the blackest night Always has to run away When the sun climbs from afar Brandishing his scimitar. Like an eagle's is your cry ; More of fierceness than of glee Sent your pinions to the sky Bounding our humanity ; Sent you winging to the sun That is seen of every one. 102 A REPLY in You have climbed a hill, and I Climbed it too ; we saw the sun Toiling up his hill of sky, Shouting to the night to run And hide itself before he came With his scimitar of flame. With his scimitar of heat, With his diadem of fire, Lightning singing at his feet, Thunder chanting in the choir, Twice ten thousand leagues of wind Shouting victory behind. You and I know well the hill, We have climbed it up and down, Knowing what there is of ill, Knowing what it is to frown, Lest the bitter word should be On the lips of ecstasy. A REPLY 103 IV Still lift up my heart and sing Once again, as once you knew, That the end of everything Is to build it up anew. Are you sad, my heart ? then keep Singing, singing, lest you weep. For whoever climbs that hill They shall feed on bitterness, Wearying along until, At the very top of stress, They shall eat their hearts and know Joy is kernel of their woe. They shall breathe a sweeter air, They shall see with other eyes What they are and what they were, And the strange and sad disguise Of humanity will slip From the shoulder and the lip. 104 A REPLY Them the sun shall greet and call, " Hail, and hail, and hail again, Elder brothers of us all, Who descended into pain ; Welcome to the thrones that ye Sat in through eternity. " Who descended to the heart, Who descended to the hell, Gathering every poisoned dart Of pain and sorrow, hiding well In their bosoms all they knew Of the sin a god can do." They shall climb the hell again, They shall scale the heart anew, Treading back without a stain Through the sunlight and the dew, From the rigour of the clay To the thrones of yesterday. THE HOLY TIME The drowsy sun trod slowly to his rest ; He gathered all his dusty gold again Away with him; He only left a dim Red colour on the sky, a ruddy stain Scarce to be seen upon the quiet west : So evening came, and darkness, and the sound Of moving feet upon the whispering ground. Like timid girls the shades went pacing down The slopes of evening, trailing soberly Their vestments grey ; 105 106 THE HOLY TIME Far, far away The last red colour faded to a brown, So very faint the eye could scarcely see : And then the skirts of evening swung upon That little distant light, and it was gone. The bee sped home, the beetle's wing of horn Went booming by, the darkness every side Gathered around, On air and sky and ground ; The pliant trees sang gently, far and wide, In cadenced lift of leaves, a tale of morn ; And then the moon's white circle, faint and thin, Looked steady on the earth — there is no sin. Printed by K. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh. BY THE SAME AUTHOR THE CROCK OF GOLD. Crown 8vo. 5s.net. THE PALL MALL GAZETTE.— "A wise, beauti- ful, and humorous book. ... If you could have given Sterne a soul and made him a poet he might have pro- duced The Crock of Gold:'' THE DEMI-GODS. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. STANDARD.— "The book is full of fine knowledge and fantasies in every shade of gaiety and gravity, and we would call its author a magician did we not feel that everything he writes is perfectly natural to him. . . . This book would prove, if proof were needed, that Mr. Stephen's Crock of Gold was not a mere tour de force, but a real ebullition of genius and a token of all the good work that was to come." HERE ARE LADIES. Crown 8vo. 5s. net. THE TIMES.—" A story may have many and diverse effects upon its reader. It may leave him smiling, laugh- ing, frowning (perhaps weeping), angry, perplexed, exalted, afraid. The bits of stories in Here are Ladies, the sketches, essays, snapshots, call them what you will, will leave him for the most part happy and hungry— for more." THE CHARWOMAN'S DAUGHTER. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. net. PUNCH.—" A little gem. . . . It is a very long time indeed since we read such a human, satisfying book. Every page contains some happy phrase or illuminating piece of character-drawing." MACMILLAN AND CO.,. LTD., LONDON DATE DUE GAYLORO PRINTED IN U S A. UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY I II AA 000 643 048 2 NIVERSITY OF CA. RIVERSIDE LIBRARY o io