THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES * • PEACE AND OTHER POEMS 'By the same Author POEMS. {Put of Print. LYRICS. LORD VYET and other Poems. THE PROFESSOR and* other Poems. PEACE AND OTHER POEMS BY ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON Fellow of Magdalene College, Cambridge. Thou shalt make me to understand •wisdom secretly. JOHN LANE, THE BODLEY HEAD LONDON AND NEW YORK MDCCCCV Richard Folkard and Son, Devonshire Street, Lond m, W.C. \ I TO OUR DEAREST BETH QVIA MVLTUM AMAVIT 759526 V * CONTENTS PAGE Prelude u Peace 13 The Charcoal-burner. ...... 25 Icarus . . . . . . . . .31 The Shadow of Death 33 To have seen ........ 36 In that Day 38 In the Mist 40 The -Bird 41 The Soul of a Cat 4 3 The Tarrot 45 The Guerdon 47 The Call 49 The Song of Sweet Things that have an End. . 51 The Fool 53 The Change ........ 57 Making Haste 59 The Shadow ........ 61 The Hidden Manna ....... 63 7 CONTENTS PAGE At Eventide 64 By the Cage ........ 66 The Loosestrife. ....... 69 By the Weir 73 The Aureole ........ 75 The Pinewood ........ 76 Succory ......... 78 The Lizard 81 Burnham Beeches .... ... 84 By the Grove ........ 87 The Dream ........ 89 The Ash-heap 91 S. Vincent de Paul 93 In School Yard ....... 95 The Monotone ........ 97 The Bell * . . -99 A Mystery ........ 101 In Memoriam — Catharine Gladstone . . . 103 To Our Mother 105 Ode to Music 109 Ode to Japan . . . . . . . .112 Coronation Ode . . . . . . .119 8 V * PEACE AND OTHER POEMS NOTE. Certain of the poems here collected have appeared in different periodicals, The Spectator, The National Review, Macmillans Magazine, The Thrush, and The Sheaf. Two of them, the Ode to Music and the Coronation Ode, have been published, with music, by Messrs. Novello & Co. and Mtssr-. Boosey & Co. respectively. I take this opportunity of thanking the Editors and Proprietors concerned for the kind permission granted me to reprint the poems in question. A. C*. iJ. Magdalene College, Cambridge, March $otb, 1905. T%JBLUT>e Once again the faltering string Trembles to my eager hand ; I would speak the gracious thing That I grow to understand. Once again the dreary voice Murmurs in my saddened ear : — " If thou wilt, poor soul^ rejoice ; Sing; but there are few to hear.' 1 Nay be braver^ faithless heart ! Silence^ O thou hollow voice ! I must play my simple party ,c Tis enough that I rejoice. II • PEACE Along the lonely valley's grassy floor I wandered long ; the seaward breeze blew cool Qver the grey stones and the windswept moor; And foaming down from pool to emerald pool The clear stream leapt ; on either side the high Grey bastions steadfast hung ; how still the vale ! No sound save rustling grasses, or the cry Of sheep on bare hill-ledges, or the, wail Of gulls aloft, on vague and aimless quest that sail. J 3 PEACE Yet here at length is peace, or seeming peace ; — Elsewhere the world may change, but ah, not here ! Far to the South the shameless towns increase, Their smoke-stained fronts the rumbling factories rear, Yet here, it seems, a thousand years ago, The dreaming mind no difference might descry ; Even so the hills were silent ; even so The crisp grass clung — -'the wistful wind crept by, The dimpled pool lay smiling at the stainless sky. Higher I mount, thridding the trackless hill, O'er tumbled cataracts of shapeless stones, Till now the streams are silent, where the chill • PEACE And shivering mountain shows his haggard bones. I gain the peak; and lo, the fertile land Lies like a chart ; the river wanders wide In shining loops ; on yellow leagues of sand Soft creeps the white-rimmed sea — and, far descried, The shadowy hills of hope beyond the golden tide ! From hamlet roofs, embowered deep in wood, The blue smoke rising hangs ; the burdened heart Saith softly to itself, " 'twere surely good Within yon quiet land to dwell apart 1 r Yet there poor hearts are restless, even there They pine for love, they scheme for simple gain, And some are sunk in heavy-eyed despair, 15 PEACE And weary life of lasting rest is fain, And fevered sufferers count the sad slow hours of pain. " Nay, nay, not thus," the ardent mind replies, " Long is delight and short the hour of woe ; Warm hearths are glad with children's happy cries, And lovers linger when the light is low." Ah me, I know it — but the brightness done, The failing life its darkening harbour nears, — A heap of mouldering turf, a carven stone, A lonely grief that fades, through faithful tears, Fades to a gentle tale among the shadowy years. I am not weary of the kindly earth, Nay, I am fain of honour and delight ; 16 • PEACE I bless the patient hour that gave me birth, I shudder at the nearer-creeping night ; But I have dreams of something deeper yet, A steadfast joy that daily should increase, Warm glowing 'neath the ashes of regret ; Not dull content that comes when ardours cease, But peace divinely bright, unconquerable peace. Each morn I would arise with tranquil heart, Not boding ill unknown, and simply take The burden of the day, and play my part As not for self, but for some loved one's sake ; For love makes light of trouble, if it gain The smile of the Beloved, if it know That One is spared the lightest touch of pain ; For this is life's best guerdon, to forego Light pleasure, if it serve the Best-beloved so. 17 b PEACE Life is not life, if in inglorious sloth The dull days pass, the years unheeded roll ; The grievous message comes, the friend is wroth, And little slights must sting the aching soul ; Tho' I be bent on service, even then Rich gratitude for heedless favours given, Impatient deeds, that win from patient men Much thanks, upbraid me, who so ill have striven, Yet give me gracious glimpses of\he mind of Heaven. Not here nor there is peace to be achieved, The mind must change, and not the earthly scene ; And how shall he who once hath truly grieved Gain hope and strength to be secure, serene ? 18 V • PEACE Not by forgetting shall such rest be earned, Nor with closed eyes that dare not see the light, But facing loss and death, and having learned What hope remains, what heritage of might — Then on the fearful heart dawns the unhoped-for light. And not in youth can this be inly seen, Not till the years have dimmed the dinted '* shield ; Not till the stern thought of what might have been Hath pierced the spirit, and the wound is healed. Youth dreams of love and conquest, generous dreams, Nought is too high but he shall dare to climb; Then, when in mid ascent the summit seems 19 b — 2 PEACE More steep than Heaven itself, more old than Time, Then dawns the light, and makes the broken life sublime. Then falls the stress of battle, which shall prove What spirit best inspired the ardent dream ; And only he that based his hope in love Shall reach the height where dawns the fitful gleam ; For one is marred in sickness, one in health, And one is fettered with a chain of care, And one is spent in piling useless wealth, And one in petty triumphs, thin as air, And few set foot upon the upward-climbing stair. But he that hath not bound his clouded mind With care, or foolish hope, or vile desire, 20 PEACE He shall be strong, and resolute to find True gold in ashes of the sinking fire ; He, if the world shall call him, simply great, Shall do high deeds, and care not for the praise ; Or be high place denied, not less elate, In some green corner shall live out his days, And lavish all his best in simple seemly ways. Then, when the sands of life fall rare and light, Then when the spent keel grates upon the sand, No matter whether vidtor in the fight Or vanquished, so the fight was greatly planned ! His soul shall be all lit with golden gleams, As when, between the darkness and the day, The sinking sun, with thrice-ennobling beams, 21 PEACE Gilds with unearthly grace and richer ray Familiar fields and trees, covert and winding way. Peace, Peace, what art thou ? Is it truth they hold Who deem that in the world thou art not found ? I know indeed thou art not bought or sold, But I have seen thee, robed in sight and sound; An hour ago, where yonder glimmering pool Gleams in the brown moor like a silver isle, I sate to hear the water lapping cool ; She came, my dreaming spirit to beguile, Finger on lip, and downcast eyes that seemed to smile. Nay, she is near us yet — 'tis only we Have lost the skill to hear her shyly pass, 22 • PEACK When she with swift and viewless mystery Fleets like the breeze across the bending grass ; Not in the gaps of profitable toil, Not in weak intervals of feverish haste May she be wooed ; but when from stain and soil Our hands are free, and weakness proudly faced, Then may the gracious form be sisterly embraced. All — unsubstantial prize, ah, faint reward ! ' Is then the cold gift of thy temperate hand No carnal triumph of the empurpled sword, No fiery thought that fills the awestruck land ? But quiet hours, and sober silent truth, That not in envy, not in acrid scorn, Can set aside the elvish dreams of youth, The haggard fears of age and languor born, Patient with both, and if alone yet not forlorn ? 23 PEACE While thus I mused, the day as though in pain Turned pale and shivered ; soon the west was cold. The glancing stonechat piped his thin refrain, And made the hills more silent, grey, and old. Swiftlv I went, and leaping downwards gained The green trim valley, leaving sad and stern The huge rock ramparts, scarred and torrent- stained, And bursting swiftly through the crackling fern, Saw through the tree-stems black theorangesunset burn. 24 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER Deep in the forest's secret heart, Within green glooms and half-lit shade, The charcoal-burner plies his art, And moves about the silent glade. Around tall stakes, that inward lean, Small leafy boughs he twists and binds, And turf breast-high, to guard and screen His stiffening limbs from aching winds. Beside the broad and knotted oak, Still leafless, when the Spring is done, All day the pungent oily smoke Wells upward from his plastered cone. 25 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER All night, beneath the star-strewn sky, That roofs the glimmering wood below, Through dusty films a fiery eye Gleams with a still and inward glow. At noon, above his labour bowed, He hears beyond the branch-built stack The cart that jolts and jangles loud Along the upward-climbing track. The sodden cartridge stained With rust, By merry sportsman flung behind; He lifts it musing from the dust, It seems to link him to his kind. In mists of sound a Sabbath chime Across the dreaming woodland swims, He dreams of some forgotten time, And murmurs half-remembered hymns. 26 * THE CHARCOAL-BURNER He sees the snake, a liquid coil, Take shape, and rustle through the leaves r The robin that, to spy his toil, Hops bickering round his branching eaves. He heeds not, tho' the nightingale Sings richly to a dying fall, Though answering cuckoos up the vale Draw closer, every time they call. He cares not though the windflower wave Her gleaming stars beneath the night, Not though the glossy bluebell pave The copse with tracls of purple light. When morning glimmers in the glade He wakes, his punctual slumbers done, And ere the dusky twilight fade He sleeps, as dreamless as a stone. 27 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER He hears the first shy songster spill His liquid note, nor loud nor long, Faint tremulous pipe and drowsy trill, Till all the wood is rich with song. He listens when the night-winds rise About his turf-piled parapet, And when the last soft murmur dies He dreams of something stiller yet. And if the rattling thunder bjeak From ragged cloud-wreaths, piled in air, He hides himself within the brake, And all his mind is dim with prayer. He is not merry, is not sad ; Unthinking, hour by lonely hour, Is in the sunshine dumbly glad, And dumbly patient in the shower. 28 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER He hath no fierce desires to slalce, No restless impulse to control, And moving woods and waters make A secret music in his soul. He hath no altar and no priest, But in the forest, vast and dim, Tall branches keep a solemn feast, And thrushes chant a vesper hymn. The broad face of the tranquil sky Is mirrored in the forest pool, And somewhat fatherly and high .; Walks in the forest in the cool. God is about him all day long ; He hears around each haunted path An endless litany of song; For shrine and incense-smoke he hath 29 THE CHARCOAL-BURNER His branching roof of subtle grace, Fresh savours on the wholesome air ; A forest is a holy place, And labour is the seed of prayer. 30 v ICARUS Sheer fall the white cliff ramparts, ledge by ledge ; The withered creeper trails its silken hair, The fearless saplings, rooted at the edge, Lean o'er the dizzy stair. Cold in the East He wakens ; He is drest Iri clouds and gathering shadow. He is there Behind yon amber sunset in the West, And here, and everywhere. Hence must I leap, although my faltering heart Reludlant thrills, by craven fears beguiled ; Lord of the gracious heaven, whate'er Thou art, Uphold Thy eager child ! 3 1 ICARUS I must go forth to meet Him, though He hide His secret face, and veil His inmost mind; I know Him great and infinitely wise; — I think His heart is kind. The dear world calls me, saying, "Go not yet;" " A little while in these warm fields delay!" My face even now with parting tears is wet, And still I dare not stay. Soon, soon I may be lying, racked and torn, On yon sharp ledge, to hang and moulder there; Or I may learn His secret, strongly borne Through viewless wastes of air ! 32 THE SHADOW OF DEATH And I, who feel so much alive, Who thrill with life from head to feet, Work, think, and speak, enjoy and thrive, Love daylight, talk, and cheerful meat ;- The day must come when from my door I must be borne with waxen face, A stiffened thing, all shrouded o'er, To my last dark abiding-place. There have been days when I desired To fling the wearied flesh away, So sad I seemed, so inly tired, I loathed the bright, unfeeling day. 33 c THE SHADOW OF DEATH And yet in spite of pain and loss, The world is daily grown more dear; I love my life, nor hold it dross, I love it — I would still be here ! Each day that passes binds me close And closer to the world I love; Each day that wane?, the instinct grows To look around, and not above ; Bright boys and girls, all ardent hean Sweet women, wise and warlike men, I watch them play their gracious parts; — I wonder shall I watch them then ? God, Thou didst make me, set me here ; I own with tears Thy sovereign power ;- I would not shrink in shuddering fear ! Oh, in that last and dreadful hour, 34 THE SHADOW OF DEATH Give some strong medicine for my soul, Ere my sick spirit find release ; And when the dim tides o'er me roll Enwrap the darkening mind with peace. 35 c— 2 TO HAVE SEEN If a man might see, In one flash of light, The eternal end Of his dearest hope ; How his horoscope Shall together blend Beauty, Truth and Right; All that he shall be; Would he, having seen, Walk in joy and peace, Patient, calm and kind, Blithe and undismayed r 36 • TO HAVE SEEN Would he bend to aid Every faltering mind, Giving sure release, Making whole and clean ? Nay ; but deep amaze Would his spirit hold ; With a burden great He would stumbling go. Best for man the slow Conquest, and the late Triumph, and the old, Sorrowful delays. 37 IN THAT DAY Absalom, Absalom ! Put back thy fragrant hair ! Loud is the city's hum ; Why dost thou linger there. To set soft hearts on fire ? That thou may'st reign, and be What vainly men desire, What best it liketh thee? Hark to the city's hum, Absalom, Absalom ! Absalom, Absalom 1 Canst thou not clearer see 38 IN THAT DAY The thronging forms that come Beneath the branching tree ? The green ways of the wood, And dripping from the dart The small dull pool of blood That drains the traitorous heart. See the dim forms that come, Absalom, Absalom ! 39 IN THE MIST 'Twas hid in mist to-day, The land I love. Thin veils of vapour lay Around, above. Tired head and weary hand,- Onward I fare I can but guess the land I love lies there ! 40 THE BIRD « Bird in the branching tree, Clasping the airy bough, What is thy minstrelsy ? What sino;est thou ? " " Hark ! " said the bird, " I sing The sunshine and the rain, And many a sweet small thing That cometh not again." " Swift from the tree's green heart Joyfully leaps the song ! Rare is thy secret art So rich and strong ' " 41 THE BIRD " Nay," said the bird, " not so ! I have no skill, no art ; Only the thanks that flow From a full glad heart." " Over the still pale streams Ouivers a single star ! Is it thy hope that gleams So fair, so far ? " " Nay," said the bird, " I sing Neither of joy nor pain; Sweet, most sweet is the thing That cometh not again." 42 THE SOUL OF A CAT When nights are warm, and roofs are dry, And gaily sails the sickle moon, And noiseless bats rush flickering by, And drowsy streamlets softly croon ; ,My furry cat, who listless lies Between the shadow and the light, Sits up, and rubs his drowsy eyes, And thinks how loud he'll sing to-night ! When lamps are lit within the house, And pun&ual crickets chide and call, When now the hungry jumping mouse Begins to scramble in the wall ; 43 THE SOUL OF A CAT My cat looks round and rises slow, Stern purpose in his solemn eye ; Leaps from the window; saunters slow Around the darlc-leav'd barberry. In vain his warm and firelit room Awaits to tempt him if he pass ; He fades upon the shadowy gloom, He melts into the dusky grass ; And soon across the twilight dim, A sound of music comes and goes ; He chants an amorous rising hymn, Or screams defiance at his foes. 44 V THE PARROT My Parrot, an obtrusive bird, Who whistles shrill, and briskly swears, Sits all day long, with muttered word, In his snug cage, beside the stairs. But this bright morning, when the breeze Soft in the garden-corners cried, Poor Poll, with rising envy, sees The great, green, glittering world outside. The cage was open ! 'twould be sweet To win ancestral liberty ! He crossed the lawn with crafty feet, And fluttered to a sheltering tree. 45 THE PARROT All day, with soft seductive art, " Poor Poll ! " and " Pretty Dear ! " we cried ; And only from the tree's dark heart, A demon's mocking laugh replied. But when the grim and haunted night Fell darkly, veiled with chilly showers, Poor Poll, with hurried awkward flieht. Relinquished his aerial bowers. Oh then, as some sea-battered craft Wins gladly to the welcome shore, Poll smoothed his ruffled plumes, and laugh 'd, And vow'd he would not wander more. 46 V • THE GUERDON Twenty long years ago, And it seems like yesterday ! And what have I got to show, What have I gained by the way ? /I have loved my fellow men, But have loved yet more my will ; I was heedless and faithless then, I am faithless and heedless still. Thirsting for love and joy, Eager to mould and plan, These were the dreams of a boy, These are the dreams of a man. 47 THE GUERDON Cloister, and court, and grove, And soft lawns down by the stream, What is your word of love ? What are the dreams you dream ? East and West they are gone, My comrades of yesterday; Some of them striding on, Some of them fall'n by the way. Yet this is my thought alone, This have I won by the way ; — That twenty long years have flown, And it seems like yesterday ! 48 • THE CALL I did not hope that shallow fame Should crown your quiet worth, The idle glitter of a name That wins the sons of earth ; But year by year I marked you grow More tranquil, strong, and kind ; I deemed you apt to serve below ; — . Ah me, but I was blind ! I questioned why you strayed so far By sunny Southern streams, What dim and visionary star Still led your silent dreams; 49 ] THE CALL You gazed upon the pictured Child, The Mother's radiant brow, And if I wondered why you smiled I do not wonder now. I muse upon the frail desires Wherein my spirit slips, It may be that the heavenly fires Shall cleanse these soiled lips ! You had no need to be forgiven, No stain was on your brow ; Ah, you were ready for His Heaven, And so He claims you now. 5° A SONG OF SWEET THINGS THAT HAVE AN END The dark wood and the solemn sky, The moon's face on the glimmering pool, The full stream singing drowsily, The faint breeze out of the thicket cool. Heart speaketh to heart, Friend is glad with friend ; The golden hours depart, Sweet things have an end. The white cloud on the green down's edge, The clear stream by the gravel small, 51 D— 2 A SONG OF SWEET THINGS Pale honey-horns that swing in the hedge, The cock's halloo and the dove's low call. Heart speaketh to heart, Friend is glad with friend ; The golden hours depart, Sweet things have an end. Hidden music airily heard, The child's voice in the warm woodways, The soft glance and the murmured word, The soft close of the summer days. Heart speaketh to heart, Friend is glad with friend ; The golden hours depart, Sweet things have an end. 52 tt, • THE FOOL Fight, said the Knight, Fight well ! Let the sword be bright, Flashing left and right; Life or death, day or night, Heaven or Hell, — No matter, so I fight, Fight well. Sing, said the Bard, Sing well ! Though the way be hard, Though the joy be marred ; 53 THE FOOL At the clanging of the blows, At the whisper of a rose, Thou shalt tell What each knows not and yet knows ; Sing well ! Mark, said the Fool, Mark well ! The minstrels will I rule, And will set the knights to scTiool. Though I cannot sing nor fight, I can judge if swords be bright; I can tell If the minstrel rhymeth right, Mark ye well ! The knight ran to fight With a will ; 54 THE FOOL t His eye was glad and bright ; His sword flashed left and right. In the evening on his face He was lying in his place Very still. Said the Fool, " They that fight Have their fill." The minstrel rose to sing, 'Twas a strain That he loved, a gracious thing ; And the harpers in a ring Twanged a prelude clear and strong ; Oh, to please the listening throng They were fain ; But the heart too full of song Brake in twain. 55 THE FOOL Said the Fool, " They have spent That they had. The Minstrel's heart is rent, And the Knight's good sword is bent ; What remaineth, for my part, But to keep the cheerful heart That I had r " So the Fool made merriment, And was glad. 56 THE CHANGE From my tall house, above the stream, As daylight fades by slow degrees, I watch the dying sunset gleam Thro' line on line of leafless trees. How changed my life, that even now Was full of stir and jocund noise — The homely task, the knitted brow, The talk of laughter-loving boys. To-day I tarry with the dead, Dig secrets out of dusty quires, Trace rills of statecraft to their head, And scrape the ash from smouldering fires. 57 THE CHANGE And yet I grieve not, tho' I miss The faltering word from beardless lip, The guarded hours of leisured bliss, The joys of gentle fellowship. I would be tranquil ; I would learn The secret of the quiet mind, Not to look forward, not to yearn For joys that I have left behind. So in this dim and starless hour I rest contented, glad to hear The whisper of the rustling shower, The soft plunge of the sleepless weir. 58 • MAKING HASTE "Soon!" says the Snowdrop, and smiles at the motherly Earth, " Soon ! — for the Spring with her languors comes stealthily on. Snow was my cradle, and chilly winds sang at my birth ; Winter is over — and I must make haste to be gone ! " " Soon," said the Swallow, and dips to the wind- ruffled stream, " Grain is all garnered — the Summer is over and done ; 59 MAKING HASTE Bleak to the Eastward the icy battalions gleam, Summer is over — and I must make haste to be gone ! " & v " Soon — ah, too soon ! " says the Soul, with a pitiful gaze, " Soon ! — for I rose like a star, and for aye would have shone. See the pale shuddering dawn, that must wither my rays, Leaps from the mountain — and I must make haste to be gone ! " 60 * THE SHADOW Thou comest, an expected guest, Pale Shadow, to my cloistered house ; With gentle mien thou enterest, With grave assent and bended brows. Then. sit awhile and talk with me, And show me thoughts undreamed of still j The thing I am, yet would not be, .The sickness of the ailing will. And yet I pray thee not to grow Too tyrannous, too stern for peace ; Light up some generous dreams, to glow And gleam across the ridged seas. 61 THE SHADOW Bring near the radiance of the Far, Speak not of death, but second birth ; Ouench not the li^ht of flower and star, Strike not her glory from the Earth. But when thy gracious work is done, And cleansed the willing sacrifice, Bring incense ; deck the altar-stone, And let the holy fires uprise. 62 V THE HIDDEN MANNA A tale of lonely grief he told, Of shattered life and dull despair; And as he spoke a mist unrolled, And angels, sorrowful and fair, ,Cool leaves of healing trees did hold. Ah me, 'twas I, not he, espied Those proffering hands, that healing tree Beside the bitter spring, beside The silent wells of agony — And I, not he, was satisfied. 63 AT EVENTIDE At mom I saw the level plain So rich and small beneath my feet, A sapphire sea without a stain, And fields of golden-waving wheat; Lingering I said, " At noon Y\\ be At peace by that sweet-scented tide. How far, how fair my course shall be, Before I come to the Eventide!" Where is it fled, that radiant plain ? I stumble now in miry ways ; Dark clouds drift landward, big with rain, And lonely moors their summits raise. 64 V AT EVENTIDE On, on with hurrying feet I range, And left and right in the dumb hillside, Grey gorges open, drear and strange, And so I come to the Eventide ! 65 E BY THE CAGE Fly hence, sweet bird ! thou art not bound j The sun is warm, the air breathes sweet ; Thy tiny comrades hover round, They peck and trip with restless feet. Nay, nay, I would not have thee go, I would have loved thee, would have schemed To shield from every passing woe — Thy cage no prison should have seemed. I think thou would'st have loved it well, I would have marked each eager mood, And woven such a dainty spell Thou wouldst have loved thy servitude. 66 V BY THE CAGE Thou could'st have cheered my lonely heart To patience; and with love for skill Hadst sung me, with untutored art, Sweet strains of forest, field, and hill. And I, I would have striven to fill Thy life with sweetness, richly strown The sternest, saddest soul would thrill To feel so sweet a life his own ! It may not be ! and my regret, Sweet prisoner, shall be softly borne ; The liberty thou lov'st not yet Is too august to shun or scorn. And thou far hence, in sterner days, When through steep rain the white rays shine, Among the dripping forest ways, Shalt know a fuller life is thine. 67 E — 2 BY THE CAGE Amid the fernv wilderness. Beside the sharp and hissing sea, There wilt thou somewhat sadly bless The lonely soul that set thee free. One tender song ere thou depart Sing softly, for the light is low ; What, would'st thou chide me, loving heart ? Nay linger not ! 'tis time to go. Thy wings are strong, thine eye is bright, The silent wood shall fence thee round ; The wind will roclc thy bower to-night; Fly hence, sweet bird ; thou art not bound. 68 *. THE LOOSESTRIFE Purple are the spires of the velvet loosestrife; On the gliding water lies a purple stain, Hour by hour it blushes where the brimming river rushes, Rushes gaily, rushes proudly, but cometh not again. On a day in deep midsummer doth the purple loosestrife Break in clustered blossom, on a day that poets know, 69 THE LOOSESTRIFE Over beds of whispering rushes, where the green dim freshet gushes, Where through leagues of level pastureland the stream winds slow. Many are thy flow'ret faces, sturdy loosestrife, Not a bloom, but a jocund company of bloom ; Thou dost face each wind that bloweth, and the circling sun that gloweth From his eastern cloud-pavilions to the western gloom. We depart, and men forget us soon, but, O brave loosestrife, Thou shalt link the laughing hour to the hour that laughs no more. 70 THE LOOSESTRIFE Thou shalt gather grace and glory and a crown of ancient story, And the child shall love the velvet spire his father loved before. Bend thy velvet head, whisper low, purple loose- strife, Tender secrets of the summer, and the shore, and the stream, Of the bright eyes that espied thee, and the soft hopes breathed beside thee, Summer vows and sunny laughter and the .; golden dream. Many are the hearts that have loved thee, loose- strife, Very true and tender was the heart that loved thee best. 7 1 THE LOOSESTRIFE He was wounded many a morrow j he was pierced with utter sorrow, He was blind and hungry-hearted, and he could not rest. Wherefore, when thou swayest in the breezes, loosestrife, Shine for other wanderers and repair thy lustrous head ; But bethink thee of thy lover, whom the grave- yard grasses cover, And the stain upon the waters, where a heart hath bled. 72 BY THE WEIR Slow stirs the boat ; beneath the cool Clear water sways the ribboned weed ; The large-eyed fish across the pool Poise, dart and poise, and give no heed. The distant woods are dim with haze, The merry swallows flicker near; And o'er the flashing waterways Murmurs and drips the lazy weir. The reed beside mc stirs and shakes His tufted head, how fresh and strong ! And in my drowsy memory wakes An old and half-forgotten song. 73 BY THE WEIR And all the books I mean to write, And all the fame that I would win, And all uneasy dreams take flight, And leave my heart at peace within. Ah me ! but we forget to live ! We sell sweet days for wealth and pride ; And when we have no more to give, The soul is still unsatisfied ! Well, I have laboured, I have»planned ; For once my plans, my labours cease. God lavs to-day a lo\ ing hand Upon my shoulder, saying " Peace !" 74 THE AUREOLE Lo, as it fleets across the grass, My shadow, while the morn declines, Around my dark head, as I pass, A tender aureole moves and shines. My aureole, twined of fire and dew, Frail crown of solitary hope, Thou dost with secret gleam endue The darkness of my horoscope. No eye but mine may see the sight ; My shadow seeks the lowly ground, And yet it goes, arrayed in light, And with eternal radiance crowned. 75 THE PINEWOOD I rode along the wind-swept heath, Far off the shadowy downland stood ; The billowy land was spread beneath, With league on league of field and wood. My empty heart was fed that day ; I entered, where the road declines, A wood that in the sunshine lay, A warm keen-scented wood of pines. A tender incense toward me streamed ; 'Twas warm with hope, 'twas sweet with tears ; 'Twas rich with all the joys I dreamed Long since, in old enchanted years. 76 THE PINEWOOD Swift healing did that fragrance bring ; It filled my empty spirit up, Swift as a little rushing spring Fills full a thirsty traveller's cup. Let me remember, when the day Is weary, when my heart declines, The wood that in the sunshine lay, The still sweet-scented wood of pines. SUCCORY Many a summer have I trode This familiar homely road ; Many a summer have I seen You, your stalks of wiry green, Wide rosettes of tenderest blue As the very skies looked through ; K\ cry passing chariot leaves Dust upon your wrinkled leaves; Strong you play your ceaseless part, Tough of frame but true of heart ; You are safe ; your fibred strands Disenchant the tender hands, 7* *. SUCCORY Tender hands that spoil and slay, Pull, and smell, and cast awav. Flower of ancient ancestry, Generations pass you by; Man who boasts of high descent, Sire and grandsire eminent, Is a puny parvenu, Budding flower, compared with you. Year by year you wax and rise Underneath the glowing skies, Year by year your life is bound Sinking languid under-ground; Who that marks you cannot see How you love to bloom and be ? And your thoughtless summer bliss, Herb of glory, tells me this. 79 SUCCORY 'Tivas a Loving Heart that bade you Catch your hue from skies above you; And the Heart unwearied, free, Ancient, wise, that bade you be, Did not wish you ill, who made you ; U ished me well, who look and love you. 80 • THE LIZARD Jewelled Lizard, you and I On the heathery hill-top lie, While the westering sun inclines Past the clump of red-stemmed pines; O'er the little space of sun Creep their shadows, one by one. Now you sit with sparkling eye ' While the bee spins homing by ; Now you quiver, dart, and rush, Flickering thro' the heather-bush ; Pattering round me, as I muse, Through the dry gorse avenues. 81 F THE LIZARD What fantastic spirit made you So devized you, so arrayed you, Thus, through centuries of leisure, Shaped you for a moment's pleasure, Stole from woodland diadems Your incomparable gems, Borrowed from the orbed dew Emerald glints to burnish you ? See, the world beneath us, smiles ; Heathery uplands, miles on miles, Purple plains and ridges steep, Smoke from hamlets bowered deep, Rolling downs with hazy head To the far horizon spread. Think it, lizard, every rood, Every stretch of field and wood, 82 THE LIZARD Every yard of sunny space, Rears and tends its little race ! Half-a-hundred little hearts Play unseen their tiny parts, Bask beneath the liquid sky, Lizard bright, as you and I. Whence and whither r here you rest; You would scorn the foolish quest. I in drear omniscience Weave me dreams of how and whence. You, you care not ; you, you run To and fro beneath the sun, Till these lights your armour leave, Darkling in the dusky eve. 83 F-2 BURNHAM BEECHES Pleasant glades of Burnham, with your beeches' flaring glories, With your high and heathery upland, and sweet leafy dell, I have often wandered thro' you, very joyful and high-hearted, But I come to-day in sadness, for I come to say farewell. Northward from the heath lies the deep enchanted forest, Secret, still and beautiful, in sun or shade or shower, 84 BURNHAM BEECHES You smile as though you guarded a quiet happy secret, Leafy-roofed, high-branching, with your brown and rustling floor. There are birds within the thickets singing proudly, singing sweetly, There are trees that talk together, by the merry breezes fanned, There are streams that leap to daylight out of cool and hidden channels, They would whisper me the secret if I could but understand. Onward, onward, say the breezes ; to the unknown land before us, From the golden gates of morning to the low- hung mists of eve ; 85 BURNHAM BEECHES Sing birds, and ripple waters, and tall trees talk together ! I have tasted of your gladness, and I will not dare to grieve. 86 BY THE GROVE As some strong tree that feels a burrowing worm Bite at his heart, and hath no skill to pluck The horror thence, but feels him drain and suck The generous sap, and channel in the firm White wholesome wood, till all the trunk be ' : mil Of crumbling dusty channels, and the leaves, High home of crooning doves on windless eves, Grow sere and thin, their burnished foliage dull — 87 BY THE GROVE Poor tree ! he can but sicken where he stands With dumb despairing patience j but for me, When from the dark the boding voices call, Though I be pierced and shattered, yet I fall Back on the Heart that beats for me, the Hands That made me, and the Will that bade me be. 88 THE DREAM I dreamed that I was dead, and smiling lay Glad as a child, that wakens in the dawn, And sees, across the dewy glimmering lawn The light that brings some longed-for holiday. So this was all, I said, and death is o'er ; The shadow that has lain across the years Is safely passed, and I have done with fears, And I am glad and free for evermore ! Then with small joyous laughter I addressed My heart to peace and wonder, when a flame 89 THE DREAM Of terror seized my spirit, mournful pain ; Dull sadnesses that would not let me rest; And through dim labyrinths of sleep I came Back to the cruel day, back to my chain. 90 ftp * THE ASH-HEAP 'Twas in a place where things unclean are thrown ; Grey garbage, rusty horrors, clout and can Amorphous, and the tattered husk of man, Sick, fretted vegetables, blistered bone ; There in the midst a gracious floweret blew, With sleek strong leaves and dainty drooping bell, And poured each hour its pure and spicy smell, Amid the sour and sickening breaths it drew. 9' THE ASH-HEAP And 'tis my hope that when through sullen days I scold and chatter like a peevish pie, With ink-stained fingers and a burdened heart, Some seed, divinely floated, may upraise Its tender head, and with unconscious art Reflect the radiance of the unruffled sky ! 9 2 V • S. VINCENT DE PAUL Oh, I have fought a little, but not well ; Laboured a little, not because I would ; Loved ease, and grasped a pleasure where I could ; — Of strenuous deeds I have no tale to tell. But ugly things, reluctantly defied, Cankers from roses picked, false fertile weeds OfF-stript, ere they could strew their noisome seeds ; — These are my conquests, with no room for pride. 93 S. VINCENT DE PAUL Oh spiritless heart, thou hast not earned thy rest, Yet thou art weary ; and the dark hours roll, And tired things flee to some protecting breast ! Yet will I hold my life not vainly spent If one, but one mute, unconsidered soul Thro' me be richer, better, more content. 94 *. IN SCHOOL YARD Snow underfoot; and outlined white and soft Statue and plinth and cornice, where the grim Vast buttresses troop westward, towering dim, So cold, so comfortless ; the air aloft Yawns into blackness ; but below, the bright Barred casements strike a glow upon the air, And busy voices hum and murmur there Of boys that hardly guess their heart is light. And yet, alone and sad, I hear a voice That chides me, yearning for that thoughtless bliss, 95 IN SCHOOL YARD Amid dark walls that loom, chill airs that freeze. Oh ! dear and hidden Father, grant me this, When in dark ways Thou lead'st me, to rejoice Because in light and joy Thou leadest these. 9 6 THE MONOTONE As in a Minster, when a choir unseen On some rich monotone unceasing dwells Of creed or prayer, while all about them swells Now faint and low, now stately and serene The brooding organ-music, breathing peace 0n what seemed harsh, and making all things fair And clean and new, till on the awe-struck air The grave melodious thunders roll and cease. 97 G THE MONOTONE So would I that my heart should softly trace Some wise intent ; thro' sweet and gracious hours One steadfast tone, and through bewildering woes One steadfast tone, whatever tempest lowers ; And ere I come to die, for some brief space Silence and recollection and repose ! 9» THE BELL Old Bell, grave Bell, how fast thou chim'st away The last dear hours that of dear days remain ; Ah, could I speak the thoughts my soul is fain Tospeak, the memories that are mine to-day. I praise thee, Eton, thou art fair and free — But most I thank thee that thou dost inspire Him, that is weak and wayward, to desire To do thy bidding, and be spent for thee. Mother, I will be faithful ; though the Past Stands half in tears and half, ah me, in shame. 99 g — 2 THE BFXL So little done, although so large the scope; I dare not grieve ; I dare not be downcast ; These flowers shall bloom, the blazon of thy name, The lilies of Love and Gratitude and Hope. iOO V • A MYSTERY Shepherds. Sirs, What have you ? JVise Men. A mystery. Shepherds. O, may we know it ? JVise Men. Yea, hear and see ! Myrrh for a death, and gold for a king; And incense meet for a Heavenly Thing. Shepherds. Sirs, how came ye ? IVise Men. By crooked ways. Shepherds. What is your guerdon ? Wise Men. Love and Praise; Love for a Mother, Praise for a Birth, A Star in Heaven and a Star on Earth. IOI A MYSTERY yoseph. Sirs, whence came ye ? Wise Men. From old Chaldee. yoseph. What is your secret? Wise Men. That we see. Mother and Maiden undefiled, Gifts of Grace for a wondrous Child. Shepherds. Who are yon bright ones ? Wise Men. Yea, we know ! Shepherds. What is their secret ? Wise Men. Ay, 'tis so ! Angel. Peace on the Earth, goodwill for men, And shining angels to cry Amen. Angels. Alleluia ! Amen. 102 IN MEMORIAM Catharine Gladstone June 14//7, 1900. Go, faithful Heart ! be his again once more ! How brief the space of parting ! Oh, be free, Be glad again, where on the further shore He waits to welcome thee. * * Mind conquers mind, and wit, a subtle spark, Grows dim, and eloquence is soon forgot, And warriors die, and moulder in the dark, And men remember not. 103 IN MEMORIAM Thou hadst no thought for greatness ; it was fame Enough for thee if one was reckoned great; Enough to keep from fiery shafts of blame One head inviolate. God gave thee love whole-hearted, love to thrill The colder, harder world that girt thee round, A silent speeding ripple, widening still To life's extremest bound. 104 TO OUR MOTHER yanuary, 1901. O pure and true, O faithful heart, Dear mother of our myriad race, The Father claims thee, — His thou art — Far hence in some serener place, To taste, in that diviner air, The love that thou hast garnered there. O crown of love, to live and bear Life's highest sorrows, deepest, best ! The griefs that might have sown despair Bloomed fruitful in thy patient breast. 105 TO OUR MOTHER And now thou goest, robed in light, From love in faith, to love in sight. We dare not speak of glory now ; We will not think of pomp and pride Tho' listening nations veil their brow, And sorrow at Victoria's side. The silent Orient wondering hears The tale of all thy gracious years. But men of after-time shall say, " She was sj humble, being great, That Reason mocked at civil fray, And Freedom reigned in sober state ; She ruled, not seemed to rule, her land, More apt to guide than to command." 1 06 TO OUR MOTHER And we would mourn thee, not as they Who weep irreparable loss ; But grateful for the dear delay, Beneath the shadow of the cross. Our tearful eyes to Heaven we lift, And render back the precious gift. And men must pass, and tears be dried, \ And younger hearts who have not known That tender presence, gracious-eyed, The loving secret of the throne, Shall wonder at the proud regret That crowns thee, and shall crown thee yet. Peace, come away ! Thou sleep'st beside The rugged immemorial sea, 107 TO OUR MOTHER Where year by year thy navies glide, And dream of ancient viclory ; — And thou — thou farest forth to prove The last, best viclory of Love. 08 ODE TO MUSIC Performed at the Opening of the new Concert Hall in the Royal College of Music on fune 13M, 1 90 1; the music by Sir Hubert Parry. Soul of the world ! Spirit of slumbrous things, whate'er thou art, Who dreamest smiling, with bright pinions furled, Deep, deep, beyond the noise of street and mart, In forest spaces, or in pastures wide, Where the hot noonday weaves a breathless .1 spell, Along the unfrequented river-side, Amid the cool smell of the weedy stream, Of sight and scent thou dreamest well — But music is thine earliest and thy latest dream ! 109 ODE TO MUSIC O far-off time ! Ere sound was tamed by gracious mastery, Faint fugue of wakening birds at matin prime, Or mid-day booming of the laden bee, Bass of the plunging stream, or softly stirr'd, The crawling sea's monotonous undertone, Or windy lowing of the forest herd, Thin pipe of dancing flies at shut of day, Winds in wild places making moan — These were the songs of earth, in artless disarray. O march of years ! The simple days are dead, the rich tides roll, And we, the inheritors of toil and tears, Utter the ampler message of the soul. How clear the subtle proem ! Murmuring sweet The soft wood whispers ; on the silence leap no ODE TO MUSIC The shivering strings, with motion fairy-fleet, Soul-shattering trumpets, lending fire and glow; The mighty organ wakes from sleep, And rolls his thund'rous diapasons, loud and low. Behold us met ! In no light fancy, no inglorious mirth, But strong to labour, striving well to set The crown of song upon the brows of earth. Music, be this thy temple hourly blest, Of sweet and serious law the abiding-place; Bid us be patient ! Bid us love the best ! Climb, gently climb, to summits still untrod, Spirit of sweetness, spirit of grace, Voice of the soul, soft echo of the mind of God ! Ill ODE TO JAPAN March, 1902. Clasp hands across the world, Across the dim sea-line, Where with bright flags unfurled Our navies breast the brine; Be this our plighted union blest, Oh ocean-throned empires of the East and West! For you, for us, the thrill And freshness of the tide, Where ice-fed rollers fill High hearts with steadfast pride ; 112 ODE TO JAPAN For both, the genial tropic waves Press warm across the sea, and chafe our shiver- ing caves. Here, rich with old delays, Our ripening freedom grows, As through the unhasting days Unfolds the lingering rose ; Through sun-fed calm, through smiting shower, Slow from the pointed bud outbreaks the full- orbed flower. »» But yours — how long the sleep, How swift the awakening came ! As on your snow fields steep The suns of summer flame; 113 H ODE TO JAPAN At morn the aching channels glare; At eve the rippling streams leap on the ridged stair. 'Twas yours to dream, to rest, Self-centred, mute, apart, While out beyond the West Strong beat the world's wild heart ; Then in one rapturous hour "to rise, A giant fresh from sleep, and clasp the garnered prize ! Here, from this English lawn, Ringed round with ancient trees, My spirit seeks the dawn Across the Orient seas. 114 ODE TO JAPAN While dark the lengthening shadows grow, I paint the land unknown, which yet in dreams I know. Far up among the hills The scarlet bridges gleam, Across the crystal rills That feed the plunging stream; The forest sings her drowsy tune ; The sharp-winged cuckoo floats across the crescent moon. Among the blue-ranged heights Dark gleam the odorous pines; Star-strewn with holy lights Glimmer the myriad shrines; 1 1 5 H — 2 ODE TO JAr-AN At eve the seaward-creeping breeze Soft stirs the drowsy bells along the temple frieze. Your snowy mountain draws To Heaven its tranquil lines; Within, through sulphurous jaws, The molten torrent shines; So calm, so bold, your years shall flow Pure as yon snows above, a fiery heart below. From us you shall acquire Stern labour, sterner truth, The generous hopes that fire The Spirit of our youth. And that strong faith we reckon ours, Yet have not learned its strength, nor proved its dearest oowers. 116 ODE TO JAPAN And we from you will learn To gild our days with grace, Calm as the lamps that burn In some still holy place ; The lesson of delight to spell, To live content with little, to serve beauty well. Your wisdom, sober, mild, Shall lend our knowledge wings ; The star, the flower, the child, The joy of homely things, The gracious gifts of hand and eye, And dear familiar peace, and sweetest courtesy. Perchance, some war-vexed hour, Our thunder-throated ships 117 ODE TO JAPAN Shall thrid the foam, and pour The death-sleet from their lips. Together raise the battle-song, To bruise some impious head, to right some tyrannous wrong. But best, if knit with love, As fairer days increase, We twain shall learn to prove The world-wide dream of peace ; And smiling at our ancient fears, Float hand in loving hand across the golden vears. 118 CORONATION ODE* 1902. 1. Crown the King with Life ! Through our thankful state Let the cries of hate Die in joy away ; Cease ye, sounds of strife ! Lord of Life, we pray, Crown the King with Life ! * Originally published by Messrs. Boosey & Co.; the music by Sir Edward Elgar. 119 CORONATION ODE II. Crown the Kin Ui