PR Lavater A Lover's Ephemeris THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES A LOVER'S EPHEMERIS LOUIS LAVATER JAMES DALLY OLD AND RARE BOOKS Oatlands, Tasmania Telephone Oatlands 90 A LOVER'S EPHEMERIS TO B.K.L. A LOVER'S EPHEMERIS By Louis Lavater Author of "Blue Days and Grey Days." Commonwealth of Australia Sydney J. Endacott MELBOURNE 1917 Printed at The Galleon Press, Surrey Hills, Vie. for S. J. Endacott, 14 Ctimming St., Moonee Vale, Vic. PR CONTENTS THE DARK HOURS DUALITY Page 7 AT SUNSET 8 WHITE MAGIC 9 PRISONER'S CAPTIVE 10 THE WITCHERY OF NIGHT H DIVINATION ,,12 THE DARKEST HOUR ,,13 A DREAM VOYAGE ,,14 THE SHINING HOURS THE AWAKENING Page 16 A THOUSAND TIMES 1? HANDS, HEART AND THOUGHTS 18 SEVEN REASONS ,,19 LOVER'S LOGIC ,,20 ATTESTATION ,,21 THE MEASURE OF LOVE ,,22 A GROOMSONG . ,,23 1415073 THE DARK HOURS DUALITY MY nature has been cast in such a mould That while I live I am the alternate prey Of two conflicting moods; no middle way Seems open to me till death leave me cold. I would be what I cannot be, would hold That which I cannot hold: then on a day I put aside all struggle, fret or fray, All quest of place or power or greed of gold. I have been dreaming. I have plucked sweet flowers Of idleness, enjoyed what I love best Of book or brook or smile at passing jest And now the fateful change before me lowers! This night shall I know neither sleep nor rest, But turn and turn and lash the laggard hours. There is a budding morrow in midnight." JOHN KEATS. THE DARK HOURS AT SUNSET THE sun drops swiftly as a wounded bird, And careless clouds that all day long have lain Asleep at anchor in the aery main Now gather westward, grey-grown, gloomy, blurred, As summoned thither by his voice, unheard, Speaking in fire and answered so again: He looms majestic as the echoes wane, And night's dark utterance veils his glowing word. My listening eyes are ears to catch the story: Thus every day some splendid hope must die, Each night the ineffectual stars be strewn ; Or, lanterning the lonely waste of sky, Eemembrance rise that melancholy moon, That pale dead spectre of departed glory ! THE DARK HOURS WHITE MAGIC THROUGH clefts and crannies of the darkness glide The long white fingers of the pallid moon ; She kneels upon the verge; then, rising soon, Casts her adrift and swims the sullen tide. And lo ! the deeps where furtive shadows hide Are turned to wine-of -amber, senses swoon And weird imaginings but reach their noon Which drowned in darkness else had slowly died. Beneath the beading surface, fathoms down, Do huddled houses lie, or in their place A ghostly semblance. There's no dwelling-space 'Twixt wall and wall, but glimmery silver sheets Buttressed with ebony a phantom town Where shrouded spectres goggle in the streets. 10 THE DARK HOURS PRISONER'S CAPTIVE LIKE clumsy screed that mars a palimpsest My seeming life is but an overlay Upon a song that will not pass away Till all dissolve in death's pale alkahest. I hold a memory prisoned in my breast Too precious to set free, too fair to slay, Too eloquent to silence or gainsay: At once my bitter joy, my sweet unrest. I dare not trust the warders Hands or Feet Or Eyes or slippery Tongue to be discreet; In loyal treason even Truth may err. When sleep their disaffection overpowers Then only am I free : in waking hours I am the captive of my prisoner. THE DARK HOURS 11 THE WITCHERY OF NIGHT BEFORE the purple curtain of the night A silver-burnished lamp is hung, so near One's hand might almost touch it. I can hear, As though they muttered some mysterious rite, A drone of voices hushed and recondite; Dusk-haunting shadows breathe into my ear Dream-fancies, dead alas ! for many a year (Or do they murmur "No, not quite not quite?") Whilst thoughts, like sentient things, come from afar To soothe me with their silken fingers. Thus Hath night the witching power to soften and change Day's crude designs into the marvellous Make distance intimate or known things strange, Blot out an ocean or unveil a star! 12 TEE DARK HOURS DIVINATION SLOW dies the midnight hour with muffled clang; Slow and by imperceptible degrees, Even as I strive to turn its treasured leaves, The book slides gently from my slackening grasp ; Slow droops the flame within the shaded lamp And my soul drifts along the drowsy sea That laves the lonely island-shores of sleep Through twilights dim as when the world began. At length, vaguely, as 'twere a dream outlined Upon a dream I see a faint shape grow Less faint than that which looms beyond .... it shows Elusive as a moonray's misty shine In winter .... Honey-cries hive in my throat And thy dear image trembles to a smile. THE DARK HOURS 13 THE DARKEST HOUR NOW moonlight fails and the slow dark comes down In heavy flakes of silence, drifting deep Alike o'er valley and its watching steep And forest glade and field with furrows brown, Dulling the distant murmurs of the town And pressing tight the bandages of sleep On laughing eyes, perchance on eyes that weep O'er half a world the night-drift slowly settles down. And do I dream? I know not. But this much I know: through shining distances enorme I wander hand in hand of a loved form Dearer than all (for there's no other such!) Unto a heaven where rosy-hued and warm Love reigns as king, and I am knighted at his touch. 14 A DREAM VOYAGE WHEN o'er night's dusky ocean swims the moon, Majestieal although so wan and pale, And curious stars, wherewith the heavens are strewn, Gather to watch her gleaming silver sail; Then does my fancy grow to its full measure And count the stars as they were miser's treasure. But, when I'd sum the tale of starry treasure Or clasp the silver splendours of the moon, They dance away in a wild witch 's-measure Till fancy waxes as the white moon pale Drifting in tatters like a storm-torn sail Upon the shores of slumber to lie strewn. Along the coasts of that dim island strewn What hoards must be of long-forgotten treasure ! Whither our dream-barks drift with drooping sail. Where the low sky has neither stars nor moon But such as move and shine beyond the pale Of knowledge, and where time nor space has measure. ' ' One that in a silver vision floats. ' ' PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. TEE DARK HOURS 15 So in my heart are hopes I cannot measure That scatter from me as rose-leaves are strewn Sweet-scented blossoms, petals pink and pale How may I tell of such a priceless treasure? No dream like this beneath the witched moon Since my swift shallop spread her silken sail! Hopes rustle gently in the flapping sail: It lifts it fills ! No need for further measure ! What care I now for argent-winged moon Or wide-eyed stars along the heavens strewn? My ship is freighted with a dearer treasure Beside whose riches all their splendours pale. Splendours of stars and of the moon grow pale When they behold my little shallop sail Unto that haven of the heart I treasure Above all earthly estimate or measure, Whose blisses like the hosts of heaven are strewn Love ! that endures beyond the stars or moon. O white witch-moon my mast-head would impale; Stars silver-strewn, hid by the swelling sail Ye cannot measure my uncounted treasure! 16 THE SHINING HOURS MORNING hath set his banner in the sky And flung his bright battalions' brave array Where'er night's frowning garrisons at bay Prolong resistance. See! they break, they fly! Whilst the loud birds, like feathered buglers, cry The matin-call that heralds the new day, Daring the dusky foe to say him nay When he deploys his white artillery. Swiftly the fortress of my heart is taken, Its bastion breached and my pale prisoner free Whom to deliver hath enlarged me ; For this I gain by being so forsaken No longer fettered to a gaoler's key Love's knight am I, and to his quest awaken. "Morning, touched with quivering fire." WILLIAM CALDWELL EOSCOE. THE SHINING HOURS 17 f \ A THOUSAND TIMES and once again / love thee! All my soul Bushes impetuous to my widowed lips Whenas I snatch them from thy finger-tips To vow / love thee! On thy heart's white scroll I write these words / love thee for my whole Evangel, and around thy throat that dips Beneath thy bodice in a blue eclipse I draw / love thee like a silken stole. Dear, the insistence of my love is such That I must needs rehearse it early and late; Nor weary not, for should it be my fate By some chance witchery of tone or touch To win thee with a word reiterate A thousand thousand times were not too much. 18 THE SHINING HOURS HANDS, HEART AND THOUGHTS HANDS that shall busy them to ward away The world's rough elbow, and to win for thee Such garnered chattel-store from day to day As thou desirest or as need may be: Heart that shall hive or hold in loving-fee Thy kisses, tears, and all such precious plunder, That I may draw upon its treasury Should we be found some dreary day asunder: And thoughts ah ! thoughts that over thee and under And all about thee circling ever go, That never thus were freighted with sweet wonder And glad surprise until thou madest them so Thoughts do I give, heart 's-fill of joy or weeping And both my hands into thy tender keeping. THE SHINING HOURS 19 SEVEN REASONS WHY do I love thee? Dear, for every reason That I may plead in starry courts above Because God surely fashioned thee for love, As sweetest blossom hath most honey-bees on, And so to love thee not were worse than treason: Because thy call is throaty like the dove : Because thou'rt packed with sweetness as this glove "With thee: because the year's at loving-season: Because, dear heart, thou askest why and why: Because thou lovest me (ah! blest am I Beyond all other lovers far or near) : Because well just because I love thee, dear: Or, having given thee good reasons seven, For any other reason under heaven. 20 THE SHINING HOURS LOVER'S-LOGIC EARTH with a tender radiance all a-shine, New-caught from heaven as through an open door: A sun more golden-bright than e 'er before : Night's winking lanterns burnished ne'er so fine: Heart brimming happiness like heady wine That rises to the lips and bubbles o'er: All these delights and many marvels more Three words may total Beatrice is mine. On Sundays, flaunting all their ribbons brave, I watch the lads and lasses as they go Exulting forth, or homeward linger slow, And smile indulgent on their shameless bliss: They love (thou sayest), they are beloved, they have Their heart's desire but I have Beatrice. THE SEINING HOURS 21 ATTESTATION DEAREST, while this dull body worms its way From dark to dark through darkness how my For ever would pursue a separate goal "With faintings, flutterings, doubtings yea or nay! What rosy ardours, what wan droopings grey Beset it! In what dismal night of dole Would it transcend its boundaries, paying toll, To win with thee unto the wide blue day! Hear me, heart 's-core of all things loveliest! This is my prayer as I do now attest By faithful word in this fair-drawn indenture I pray thy spirit compass me about Like a blue nooning, shadowless of doubt, When fares my soul upon its last adventure. THE SEINING HOURS WHO can appraise, who would with paltry yardstick measure A great gift greatly given? And should that gift be love Stint not thy prayers, for it is holy far above Our crampt imaginings. The miser counts his treasure By tale of meannesses; having no fruit, nor leisure To pluck it if he had: who travaileth to move A niggard mistress hath no need, by Heaven ! to prove He oweth naught for dole of dearly-purchased pleasure : But thee sweet-smelling thoughts of whom, like flowers, invade The thickets of my soul where no spring used to be Because thou givest all thine all ungrudgingly, Because thou squanderest great gladness, unafraid, Thee only will I love whilst there is breath in me Holding thee dearest of all things that God hath made. THE SHINING HOURS 23 A GROOM SONG LET me be early, that no peeping sun Cry shame upon me for a laggard groom: Let me be risen and my day begun Before the sun hath set the hills a-bloom Or freed the faint perfume Of waking meadows. Let me leap from bed To bathe this body and these glowing limbs And utter all my soul in songs and hymns The like of which were never sung nor said Nor written to be read: And let me choose from garments in array The whitest linen .... and this suit of grey .... Whate'er be pleasing in the eyes of her For whose delight they have been laid away And sprinkled o'er with myrrh Rose-leaves and lavender Against this moment whereto I was born, The flower of all my days and my sweet marriage-morn. "This is that happy morn." DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN. 24 THE SHIN ING HOURS And forth into the open let me go To drink the breath of morning and to greet The shining messenger of love, that so- I miss no joy of him, nor any sweet, Nor vex my happy feet With vain delays whenas his rosy fingers Are busy at day's door. See how he peeps Above yon eastern rim where still she sleeps Whose hour has come and mine ; and how he lingers To wake the morning-singers Before her window ere he sweeps along His God-appointed road in majesty, Paling the ineffectual starry throng And scattering life and light and love and song So at the hour shall be A splendour about me, The golden splendour whereto I was born, The glory of my days and my sweet marriage-morn. THE SHINING HOURS From water-runnel and from reedy stem, From quiring trees with leafy trebles crowned, From throats so many there's no counting them, From every hollow harbouring a sweet sound. Yea, even from the ground Rise murmurous madrigals that catch and croon And chime in many-changing harmonies, Wherein each rapturous voice with all agrees, And not a blade of grass is out of tune .... Almost my senses swoon As something in my heart responsive sings Through wildered quarter-tones and quaverings A song of ravishment and soul's-allure Such as is heard among the whispering strings Unearthly-sweet and pure Of a soft viol d' amour. This is the music whereto I was born, Fit for this day of days and my sweet marriage-morn. 26 THE SHINING HOURS I breathe the very air of heaven, laced With a sweet savour of supreme delight Sweeter than is the cleanly salt sea -taste Of spray far-flung upon a windy height Or tangled reek at night Along the borders of an unspoiled stream : Sweeter than mint or flakes of manna spilled From sappy trees or fragrant earth fresh-tilled: Than spice of bay or coaxing of cool cream Or (fleeting as a dream) The gust of alpine strawberries. Could there run Into a swift alembic craftily The souls of all sweet things beneath the sun And all their essences be blent in one, Ah, not so sweet for me Their quintessence would be As this, the nectar whereto I was born, The honey-dew of days and my sweet marriage-morn. THE SHINING HOURS 27 It may be now she opens her dear eyes Misty with dreams and all suffused with love, And deepening bluely till a soft surprise Flutters into them like a nesting dove. Not the blue maze above With all its lure of endless veiled abysses Or foam of stars flecking a purple sea Can so entangle all the thoughts of me As those blue heavens, starred with a thousand blisses And bluer even than this is, And more mysterious and more full of wonder Than any watery lover of the moon .... Thus do my thoughts, like fountains burst asunder, Gather in flood and bear me up from under Till, rising swift and soon Unto a passionate noon, They reach the fullness whereto I was born, The spring-tide of my days and my sweet marriage-morn. 28 THE SHINING HOURS Or she may be already at her glass Perplexing hurried fingers with command And countermand. How many times shall pass Across the loving background of her hand Bracelet or brooch or band Ere to a scruple she assess the claims Of spidery clasp or quaintly-figured fretting Or mystic moonstone in a silver setting? How oft shall leap for her the tiny flames, Brightnesses without names, Imprisoned in the gleaming green and white Of her betrothal ring ? Yet should there glow Upon her bosom gems and jewels bright As sunny shaft by day or stars at night The rarest could not show Such living radiance No, She is the jewel whereto I was born. Set in this day of days and my sweet marriage-morn. THE SHINING HOURS 29 Dear Love, when I look back upon the years Before my life was filled with thoughts of thee, The long climb but a little hill appears Lost in the blue of love's immensity, And like a cloud I see What once was all my world. How could I live Ere yet my life was worth the living? How Be prodigal of love as I am now When I was poor and little had to give? But this imperative Sweet ecstasy that wings my willing soul From peak to breathless peak (and ever shall Possess it in sustained .high control Until it seek a yet diviner goal) Doth now exulting call Me to love's festival. This is the height whereunto I was born, The summit of my days and my sweet marriage-morn. 30 THE SHINING HOURS And so .... to church ! Beloved, when at last The faithful word is spoken and the kiss The joyous marriage-kiss hath sealed it fast, Let us, remembering our unmeasured bliss, Thank God with tears for this Transcendent gift of love the teasing strife, The uncertain joys of lovers '-love at first, Before the best in us hath slain the worst ; Then the calm love of husband and of wife, Love that is more than life, Kicher than kings' crowns diamonded and pearled, Gentler than wild-buds in a dreamy lane, Prouder than a new nation's flag unfurled, Love that is wider than the visible world And stronger than all pain Whereby we now attain The heaven prepared for us when we were born Against this day of days and our sweet marriage-morn. By the same author BLUE DAYS & GREY DAYS The finest book of sonnets ever issued in Australia 2s 6d postage Id Commonwealth of Australia S. J. Endacott Melbourne UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-Series 4939 PAMPHLET BINDER PR 6023 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY A 000 864 420 5