THE ENCHANTED ISLAND THE JENCHANTED ISLAND. AND OTHER POEMS BY ALFRED NOTES NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS Copyright, 1910 BY FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY Copyright, 1909 BY ALFRED NOYES All rights reserved March, igio CONTENTS PAGE MIST IN THE VALLEY j A SONG OF THE PLOUGH 6 THE BANNER , 9 RANK AND FILE , : 10 THE SKYLARK CAGED 18 THE LOVERS' FLIGHT 21 THE ROCK POOL 26 THE ISLAND HAWK 31 THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST 39 EDINBURGH 45 RED OF THE DAWN 47 LAVENDER . > : . ., . : ,- ... 50 THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVITATION ... 52 THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED 56 ON THE DOWNS 79 A MAY-DAY CAROL *,<.... 82 THE CALL OF THE SPRING 84 A DEVONSHIRE DITTY 87 BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES 89 CONTENTS PAGE THE NEWSPAPER BOY ....... 103 THE Two WORLDS 106 GORSE :., . ;.; ,.. ,.; 109 FOR THE EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY OF GEORGE MEREDITH 112 IN MEMORY OF SWINBURNE 113 ON THE DEATH OF FRANCIS THOMPSON . . 116 IN MEMORY OF MEREDITH 120 A FRIEND OF CARLYLE 122 THE TESTIMONY OF ART 132 THE SCHOLARS 133 RESURRECTION 134 A JAPANESE LOVE-SONG 137 THE Two PAINTERS 139 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND 152 UNITY 159 THE HILL-FLOWER 161 ACTION . ..'... 164 LUCIFER'S FEAST 173 VETERANS 185 THE QUEST RENEWED . 187 THE LIGHTS OF HOME - 189 MOUNT IDA 190 GLIMPSES 201 THE ELECTRIC TRAM 204 THE ENCHANTED ISLAND MIST IN THE VALLEY TV/FIST in the valley, weeping mist *>** Beset my homeward way. No gleam of rose or amethyst Hallowed the parting day; A shroud, a shroud of awful gray iWrapped every woodland brow, And drooped in crumbling disarray Around each wintry bough. n And closer round me now it clung Until I scarce could see The stealthy pathway over-hung By silent tree and tree Which floated in that mystery As poised in waveless deeps Branching in worlds below the sea, The gray sea-forest sleeps. m Mist in the valley, mist no less Within my groping mind ! The stile swam out : a wilderness Rolled round it, gray and blind. MIST IN THE VALLEY A yard in front, a yard behind, So strait my world was grown, I stooped to win once more some kind Glimmer of twig or stone. IV ; I crossed and lost the friendly stile And listened. Never a sound Came to me. Mile on mile on mile It seemed the world around Beneath some infinite sea lay drowned With all that e'er drew breath ; Whilst I, alone, had strangely found A moment's life in death. A universe of lifeless gray Oppressed me overhead. Below, a yard of clinging clay With rotting foliage red Glimmered. The stillness of the dead, Hark ! was it broken now By the slow drip of tears that bled From hidden heart or bough. [2] MIST IN THE VALLEY VI Mist in the valley, mist no less That muffled every cry Across the soul's gray wilderness Where faith lay down to die; Buried beyond all hope was I, Hope had no meaning there : A yard above my head the sky Could only mock at prayer. VII Yet, though the corse of that dead God Were bowed across the way, Though, closer, closer, as I trod My path of clinging clay, All round me pressed the hideous gray Corruption, till it seemed To quench the last faint struggling ray That in my spirit gleamed, VIII E'en as I groped along, the gloom Suddenly shook at my feet! O, strangely as from a rending tomb In resurrection, sweet [ 3 ] MIST IN THE VALLEY Swift wings tumultuously beat Away! I paused to hark O birds of thought, too fair, too fleet To follow across the dark! IX Yet, like a madman's dream, there came One fair swift flash to me Of distances, of streets a-flame With joy and agony, And further yet, a moon-lit sea Foaming across its bars, And further yet, the infinity Of wheeling suns and stars, And further yet ... O mist of suns, I grope amidst your light, Oh, further yet, what vast response From what transcendent height? Wild wings that burst thro' death's dim night I can but pause and hark; For O, ye are too swift, too white, To follow across the dark! [4] MIST IN THE VALLEY XI Mist in the valley, yet I saw, And in my soul I knew The gleaming City whence I draw The strength that then I drew, My misty pathway to pursue With steady pulse and breath Through these dim forest-ways of dew And darkness, life and death. A SONG OF, THE 'PLOUGH (Morning.) TDLE, comfortless, bare, The broad bleak acres lie: The ploughman guides the sharp plough-share Steadily nigh. The big plough-horses lift And climb from the marge of the sea, And the clouds of their breath on the clear wind drift Over the fallow lea. Streaming up with the yoke, Brown as the sweet-smelling loam, Thro' a sun-swept smother of sweat and smoke The two great horses come. XJp thro' the raw, cold morn They trample and drag and swing; And my dreams are waving with ungrown corn In a far-off spring. [6] A SONG OF THE PLOUGH It is my soul lies bare Between the hills and the sea: Come, ploughman Life, with thy sharp plough- share, And plough the field for me. n (Evening.) Over the darkening plain As the stars regain the sky, Steals the chime of an unseen rein, Steadily nigh. Lost in the deepening red The sea has forgotten the shore : The great dark steeds with their muffled tread Draw near once more. To the furrow's end they sweep Like a sombre wave of the sea, Lifting its crest to challenge the deep Hush of Eternity. Still for a moment they stand, Massed on the sun's red death, A surge of bronze, too great, too grand, To endure for more than a breath. [7] & SONG OF THE PLOUGH Only the billow and stream Of muscle and flank and mane Like darkling mountain-cataracts gleam Gripped in a Titan's rein. Once more from the furrow's end They wheel to the fallow lea, And down the muffled slope descend To the sleeping sea. And the fibrous knots of clay, And the sun-dried clots of earth Cleave, and the sunset cloaks the gray .Waste and the stony dearth ! D, broad and dusky and sweet, The sunset covers the weald ; But my dreams are waving with golden wheat In a still strange field. My soul, ffiy soul lies bare, Between the hills and the sea; Come, ploughman Death, with thy sharp plough- share, And plough the field for me. [8] THE BANNER] T T 7 HO in the gorgeous van-guard of the years With winged helmet glistens, let him hold Ere he pluck down this banner, crying " It bears An old device " ; fo^ though it seem the old It is the new ! No rent shroud of the past, But its transfigured spirit that still shines Triumphantly before the foremost lines, Even from the first prophesying the last. And whoso dreams to pluck it down shall stand Bewildered, while the great host thunders by; And he shall show the rent shroud in his hand And " lo, I lead the van ! " he still shall cry ; While leagues away, the spirit-banner shines Rushing in triumph before the foremost lines. [9] RANK AND FILE T^VRUM-TAPS! Drum-taps! Who is It *-"' marching, Marching past in the night ? Ah, hark, Draw your curtains aside and see Endless ranks of the stars o'er-arching Endless ranks of an army marching, Marching out of the measureless dark, Marching away to Eternity. See the gleam of the white sad faces Moving steadily, row on row, Marching away to their hopeless wars: Drum-taps, drum-taps, where are they marching? Terrible, beautiful, human faces, Common as dirt, but softer than snow, Coarser than clay, but calm as the stars. [ 10] RANK AND FILE m Is it the last rank readily, steadily Swinging away to the unknown doom? Ere you can think it, the drum-taps beat Louder, and here they come marching, marching, Great new level locked ranks of them readily Steadily swinging out of the gloom, Marching endlessly down the street. rv Unregarded imperial regiments White from the roaring intricate places Deep in the maw of the world's machine, Well content, they are marching, marching, Unregarded imperial regiments, Ay, and there are those terrible faces Great world-heroes that might have been. Hints and facets of One the Eternal, Faces of grief, compassion and pain, Faces of hunger, faces of stone, Faces of love and of labor, marching, Changing facets of One the Eternal, Streaming up thro' the wind and the rain, All together and each alone. RANK AND FILE VI You 'that doubt of the world's one Passion, You for whose science the stars are a-stray, Hark to their orderly thunder-tread ! These, in the night, with the stars are marching One to the end of the world's one Passion! You that have taken their Master away, Where have you laid Him, living or dead? VII You whose laws have hidden the One Law, You whose searchings obscure the goal, You whose systems from chaos begun, Chance-born, order-less, hark, they are marching, Hearts and tides and stars to the One Law, Measured and orderly, rhythmical, whole, Multitudinous, welded and one. VIII Split your threads of the seamless purple, Round you marches the world-wide host, Round your skies is the marching sky, Out in the night there's an army marching, Clothed with the night's own seamless purple^ Making death for the King their boast, Marching straight to Eternity. [ 12 ] RANK AND FILE IX What do you know of the shot-riddled banners Royally surging out of the gloom, You whose denials their souls despise? Out in the night they are marching, marching ! Treasure your wisdom, and leave them their banners ! Then when you follow them down to the tomb, Pray for one glimpse of the faith in their eyes. x Pray for one gleam of the white, sad faces, Moving steadily, row on row, Marching away to their hopeless wars Doomed to be trodden like dung, but marching, Terrible, beautiful human faces, Common as dirt, but softer than snow, Coarser than clay, but calm as the stars. XI What of the end? Will your knowledge escape it? What of the end of their dumb dark tears? You who mock at their faith and sing, Look, for their ragged old banners are marching Down to the end will your knowledge escape it ? Down to the end of a few brief years ! What should they care for the wisdom you bring? [ 13 ] RANK AND FILE XII Count as they pass, their hundreds, thousands, Millions, marching away to a doom Younger than London, older than Tyre! Drum-taps, drum-taps where are they marching, Regiments, nations, empires, marching Down thro' the jaws of a world-wide tomb, Doomed or ever they sprang from the mire! XIII Doomed to be shovelled like dung to the midden, Trodden and kneaded as clay in the road, Father and little one, lover and friend, Out in the night they are marching, marching, Doomed to be shovelled like dung to the midden, Bodies that bowed beneath Christ's own load, Love that marched to the self-same end. XIV What of the end ? O, not of your glory, Not of your wealth or your fame that will live Half as long as this pellet of dust ! Out in the night there's an army marching, Nameless, noteless, empty of glory, Ready to suffer and die and forgive, Marching onward in simple trust, [ H] RANK AND FILE xv Wearing their poor little toy love-tokens Under the march of the terrible skies! Is it a jest for a God to play? Whose is the jest of these millions marching, Wearing their poor little toy love-tokens, Waving their voicelessly grand good-byes, Secretly trying, sometimes, to pray. XVI Dare you dream their trust in Eternity Broken, O you to whom prayers are vain, You who dream that their God is dead? Take your answer these millions marching Out of Eternity, into Eternity, These that smiled " We shall meet again," Even as the life from their loved one fled. XVII Not for the sake of the proud and the mighty, Not for their doubts will He break that trust, He, the Eternal, beyond their ken: Out in the night there's an army marching, Not of the proud, the famous, the mighty! Loud to God from the silent dust Rings the cry of the unknown men. [ 15 ] RANK AND FILE XVIII This is the answer, not of the 'sages, Not of the loves that are ready to part, Ready to find their oblivion sweet ! Out in the night there's an army marching, Men that have toiled thro' the endless ages, Men of the pit and the desk and the mart, Men that remember, the men in the street, XIX These that into the gloom of Eternity Stream thro' the dream of this lamp-starred town London, an army of clouds to-night! These that of old came marching, marching, Out of the terrible gloom of Eternity, Bowing their heads at Rameses' frown, Streaming away thro' Babylon's light; XX These that swept at the sound of the trumpet Out thro' the night like gonfaloned clouds, Exiled hosts when the world was Rome, Tossing their tattered old eagles, marching Down to sleep till the great last trumpet, London, Nineveh, rend your shrouds, Rally the legions and lead them home, [ 16] RANK AND FILE XXI Lead them home with their glorious faces Moving steadily, row on row Marching up from the end of wars, Out of the Valley of Shadows, marching, Terrible, beautiful, human faces, Common as dirt, but softer than snow, Coarser than clay, but calm as the stars, XXII Marching out of the endless ages, Marching out of the dawn of time, Endless columns of unknown men, Endless ranks of the stars o'er-arching, Endless ranks of an army marching Numberless out of the numberless ages, Men out of every race and clime, Marching steadily, now as then. THE SKYLARK CAGED EAT, little breast, against the 'wires, Strive, little wings and misted eyes, Which one wild gleam of memory fires Beseeching still the unfettered skies, Whither at dewy dawn you sprang Quivering with joy from this dark earth and sang. II And still you sing your narrow cage Shall set at least your music free ! Its rapturous wings in glorious rage Mount and are lost in liberty, While those who caged you creep on earth Blind prisoners from the hour that gave them birth. m Sing! The great City surges round. Blinded with light, thou canst not know. Dream ! 'Tis the fir-woods' windy sound Rolling a psalm of praise below. Sing, o'er the bitter dust and shame, And touch us with thine own transcendent flame. [ 18 ] THE SKYLARK CAGED IV Sing, o'er the City dust and slime; Sing, o'er the squalor and the gold, The greed that darkens earth with crime, The spirits that are bought and sold. O, shower the healing notes like rain, And lift us to the height of grief again. Sing! The same music swells your breast, And the wild notes are still as sweet As when above the fragrant nest And the wide billowing fields of w r heat You soared and sang the livelong day, And in the light of heaven dissolved away. VI The light of heaven ! Is it not here ? One rapture, one ecstatic joy, One passion, one sublime despair, One grief which nothing can destroy, You though your dying eyes are wet Remember, 'tis our blunted hearts forget. [19 1 THE SKYLARK CAGED VII Beat, little breast, still beat, still beat, Strive, misted eyes and tremulous wings; Swell, little throat, your Sweet! Sweet! Sweet! Thro' which such deathless memory rings: Better to break your heart and die, Than, like your gaolers, to forget your sky* [20] THE LOVERS' FLIGHT , the dusk is lit with flowers! Quietly take this guiding hand : Little breath to waste is ours On the road to lovers' land. Time is in his dungeon-keep! Ah, not thither, lest he hear, Starting from his old gray sleep, Rosy feet upon the stair. II Ah, not thither, lest he heed Ere we reach the rusty door ! Nay, the stairways only lead Back to his dark world once more : There's a merrier way we know Leading to a lovelier night See, your casement all a-glow Diamonding the wonder-light. ra Fling the flowery lattice wide, Let the silken ladder down, [ 21 ] THE LOVERS' FLIGHT Swiftly to the garden glide Glimmering in your long white gown, Rosy from your pillow, sweet, Come, unsandalled and divine; Let the blossoms stain your feet And the stars behold them shine. IV Swift, our pawing palfreys wait, And the page Dan Cupid frets, Holding at the garden gate Reins that chime like castanets, Bits a-foam with fairy flakes Flung from seas whence Venus rose: Come, for Father Time awakes And the star of morning glows. Swift one satin foot shall sway Half a heart-beat in my hand, Swing to stirrup and swift away Down the road to lovers' land: Ride the moon is dusky gold, Ride our hearts are young and warm, Ride the hour is growing old, And the next may break the charm. [ 22 ] THE LOVERS' FLIGHT VI Swift, ere we that thought the song Full for others of the truth, We that smiled, contented, strong, Dowered with endless wealth of youth, Find that like a summer cloud Youth indeed has crept away, Find the robe a clinging shroud And the hair be-sprent with gray. VII Ride we'll leave it all behind, All the turmoil and the tears, All the mad, vindictive blind Yelping of the heartless years! Ride the ringing world's in chase, Yet we've slipped old Father Time, By the love-light in your face And the jingle of this rhyme. vra Ride for still the hunt is loud ! Ride our steeds can hold their own ! Yours, a satin sea-wave, proud, Queen, to be your living throne, [ 23 ] THE LOVERS' FLIGHT Glittering with the foam and fire Churned from seas whence Venus rose, Tow'rds the gates of our desire Gloriously burning flows. IX He, with streaming flanks a-smoke, Needs no spur of blood-stained steel: Only that soft thudding stroke Once, o' the little satin heel, Drives his mighty heart, your slave, Bridled with these bells of rhyme, Onward, like a crested wave Thundering out of hail of Time. On, till from a rosy spark Fairy-small as gleams your hand, Broadening as we cleave the dark, Dawn the gates of lovers' land, Nearing, sweet, till breast and brow Lifted through the purple night Catch the deepening glory now And your eyes the wonder-light. [24] THE LOVERS' FLIGHT XI E'en as tow'rd your face I lean Swooping nigh the gates of bliss I the king and you the queen Crown each other with a kiss Riding, soaring like a song Burn we tow'rds the heaven above, You the sweet and I the strong And in both the fire of love. XII Ride though now the distant chase Knows that we have slipped old Time, Lift the love-light of your face, Shake the bridle of this rhyme, See, the flowers of night and day Streaming past on either hand, Ride into the eternal May, Ride into the lovers' land. [25] THE ROCK POOL i BRIGHT as a fallen fragment of the sky, Mid shell-encrusted rocks the sea-pool shone, Glassing the sunset-clouds in its clear heart, A small enchanted world enwalled apart In diamond mystery, Content with its own dreams, its own strict zone Of urchin woods, its fairy bights and bars, Its daisy-disked anemones and rose-feathered stars. II Forsaken for a while by that deep roar Which works in storm and calm the eternal will, Drags down the cliffs, bids the great hills go by And shepherds their multitudinous pageantry, Here, on this ebb-tide shore, A jewelled bath of beauty, sparkling still, The little sea-pool smiled away the sea, And slept on its own plane of bright tranquillity. [26] THE ROCK POOL in A self-sufficing soul, a pool in trance, Un-stirred by all the spirit-winds that blow From o'er the gulfs of change, content, ere yet On its own crags, which rough peaked limpets fret The last rich colors glance, Content to mirror the sea-bird's wings of snow, Or feel in some small creek, ere sunset fails, A tiny Nautilus hoist its lovely purple sails ; IV And, furrowing into pearl that rosy bar, Sail its own soul from fairy fringe to fringe, Lured by the twinkling prey 'twas born to reach In its own pool, by many an elfin beach Of jewels, adventuring far Through the last mirrored cloud and sunset-tinge And past the rainbow-dripping cave where lies The dark green pirate-crab at watch with beaded eyes, v Or fringed Medusa floats like light in light, Medusa, with the loveliest of all fays Pent in its irised bubble of jellied sheen, Trailing long ferns of moon-light, shot with green And crimson rays and white, [2 7 ] THE ROCK POOL Waving ethereal tendrils, ghostly sprays, Daring the deep, dissolving in the sun, The vanishing point of life, the light whence life begun, VI Poised between life, light, time, eternity, So tinged with all, that in its delicate brain Kindling it as a lamp with her bright wings Day-long, night-long, young Ariel sits and sings Echoing the lucid sea, Listening it echo her own unearthly strain, Watching through lucid walls the world's rich tide, One light, one substance with her own, rise and subside. vn And over soft brown woods, limpid, serene, Puffing its fans the Nautilus went its way, And from a hundred salt and weedy shelves Peered little horned faces of sea-elves: The prawn darted, half-seen, Thro' watery sunlight, like a pale green ray, And all around, from soft green waving bowers, Creatures like fruit out-crept from fluted shells like flowers. [28] THE ROCK POOL vni And, over all, that glowing mirror spread The splendor of its heaven-reflecting gleams, A level wealth of tints, calm as the sky That broods above our own mortality : The temporal seas had fled, And ah, what hopes, what fears, what mystic dreams Could ruffle it now from any deeper deep ? Content in its own bounds it slept a changeless sleep. IX Suddenly, from that heaven beyond belief, Suddenly, from that world beyond its ken, Dashing great billows o'er its rosy bars Shivering its dreams into a thousand stars, Flooding each sun-dried reef With waves of color, (as once, for mortal men Bethesda's angel) with blue eyes, wide and wild, Naked into the pool there stepped a little child. Her red-gold hair against the far green sea Blew thickly out : her slender golden form Shone dark against the richly waning west As with one hand she splashed her glistening breast, [ 29 ] THE ROCK POOL Then waded up to her knee And frothed the whole pool into a fairy storm ! . . . So, stooping through our skies, of old, there came Angels that once could set this world's dark pool a-flame, XI From which the seas of faith have ebbed away, Leaving the lonely shore too bright, too bare, While mirrored softly in the smooth wet sand A deeper sunset sees its blooms expand But all too phantom-fair, Between the dark brown rocks and sparkling spray Where the low ripples pleaded, shrank and sighed, And tossed a moment's rainbow heavenward ere they died. XII Stoop, starry souls, incline to this dark coast, Where all too long, too faithlessly, we dream. Stoop to the world's dark pool, its crags and scars, Its yellow sands, its rosy harbor-bars, And soft green wastes that gleam But with some glorious drifting god-like ghost Of cloud, some vaguely passionate crimson stain: Rend the blue waves of heaven, shatter our sleep again ! [ 30] THE ISLAND HAWK (A SONG FOR THE FIRST LAUNCHING OF HIS MAJESTY'S AERIAL NAVY.) i Chorus Ships have swept with my conquering name Over the waves of war, Swept thro 1 the Spaniards' thunder and flame To the splendor of Trafalgar: On the blistered decks of their great renown, In the wind of my storm-beat wings, Hawkins and Hawke went sailing down To the harbor of deep-sea kings! By the storm-beat wings of the hawk, the hawk, Bent beak and pitiless breast, They clove their way thro' the red sea-fray: Who wakens me now to the quest? II Hushed are the whimpering winds oa the hill, Dumb is the shrinking plain, And the songs that enchanted the woods are still As I shoot to the skies again ! THE ISLAND HAWK Does the blood grow black on my fierce bent beak, Does the down still cling to my claw ? Who brightened these eyes for the prey they seek ? Life, I follow thy law ! For I am the hawk, the hawk, the hawk! Who knoweth my pitiless breast? Who watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way\ Flee flee for I quest, I guest. in As I glide and glide with my peering head, Or swerve at a puff of smoke, Who watcheth my wings on the wind outspread, Here gone with an instant stroke ? Who toucheth the glory of life I feel As I buffet this great glad gale, Spire and spire to the cloud-world, wheel, Loosen my wings and sail? For I am the hawk, the island hawk, Who knoweth my pitiless breast? Who watcheth me sway in the sun's bright way* 1 . Flee flee for I quest, I quest. IV Had they given me " Cloud-cuckoo-city " to guard Between mankind and the sky, [32] THE ISLAND HAWK Tho' the dew might shine on an April sward, Iris had ne'er passed by ! Swift as her beautiful wings might be From the rosy Olympian hill, Had Epops entrusted the gates to me Earth were his kingdom still. For I am the hawk, the archer, the hawk! Who knoweth my pitiless breast? Who watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way\ Flee flee for I quest, I quest. My mate in the nest on the high bright tree Blazing with dawn and dew, She knoweth the gleam of the world and the glee As I drop like a bolt from the blue ; She knoweth the fire of the level flight As I skim, close, close to the ground, With the long grass lashing my breast and the bright Dew-drops flashing around. She watcheth the hawk, the hawk, the hawk (O, the red-blotched eggs in the nest!) Watcheth him sway in the sun's bright way; Flee flee for I quest, I quest. [ 33 ] THE ISLAND HAWK VI She builded her nest on the high bright wold, She was taught in a world afar, The lore that is only an April old Yet old as the evening star ; Life of a far off ancient day In an hour unhooded her eyes; In the time of the budding of one green spray She was wise as the stars are wise. Brown flower of the tree of the hawk, the hawk, On the old elm's burgeoning breast, She watcheth me sway in the wild wind's way: Flee flee for I quest, I quest. VII Spirit and sap of the sweet swift Spring, Fire of our island soul, Burn in her breast and pulse in her wing While the endless ages roll; Avatar she of the perilous pride That plundered the golden West, Her glance is a sword, but it sweeps too wide For a rumor to trouble her rest. She goeth her glorious way, the hawk, She nurseth her brood alone: [ 34] THE ISLAND HAWK She will not swoop for an owlet's whoop t She hath calls and cries of her own. VIII There was never a dale in our isle so deep That her wide wings were not free To soar to the sovran heights and keep Sight of the rolling sea: Is it there, is it here in the rolling skies, The realm of her future fame? Look once, look once in her glittering eyes, Ye shall find her the same, the same. Up to the skies with the hawk, the hawk, As it was in the days of old! Ye shall sail once more, ye shall soar, ye shall soar To the new-found realms of gold. IX She hath ridden on white Arabian steeds Thro' the ringing English dells, For the joy of a great queen, hunting in state, To the music of golden bells ; A queen's fair fingers have drawn the hood And tossed her aloft in the blue, [ 35 ] THE ISLAND HAWK A white hand eager for needless blood ; I hunt for the needs of two. Yet I am the hawk, the hawk, the hawk! Who knoweth my pitiless breast? Who< watcheth me sway in the sun's bright way? Flee flee for I quest, I quest. X Who fashioned her wide and splendid eyes That have stared in the eyes of kings ? With a silken twist she was looped to their wrist: She has clawed at their jewelled rings! Who flung her first thro' the crimson dawn To pluck him a prey from the skies, When the love-light shone upon lake and lawn In the valleys of Paradise? Who fashioned the hawk, the hawk, the hawk, Bent beak and pitiless breast? Who watcheth him sway in the wild wind's way? Flee flee for I quest, I quest. XI Is there ever a song in all the world Shall say how the quest began With the beak and the wings that have made us kings And cruel almost as man? [ 36] THE ISLAND HAWK The wild wind whimpers across the heath Where the sad little tufts of blue And the red-stained gray little feathers of death Flutter! Who fashioned us? Who? Who fashioned the scimitar wings of the hawk, Bent beak and arrowy breast? Who watcheth him sway in the sun's bright way? Flee flee for I quest, I quest. XII Linnet and wood-pecker, red-cap and jay, Shriek that a doom shall fall One day, one day, on my pitiless way From the sky that is over us all ; But the great blue hawk of the heavens above Fashioned the world for his prey, King and queen and hawk and dove, We shall meet in his clutch that day; Shall I not welcome him, I, the haiwk? Yea, cry, as they shrink from his claw, 'Cry, as I die, to the unknown sky, Life, I follow thy law! [37] THE ISLAND HAWK xni Chorus Ships have swept with my conquering name ... Over the world and beyond, Hark! Bellerophon, Marlborough, Thunderer, Condor, respond ! On the blistered decks of their dread renown f In the rush of my storm-beat wings, Hawkins and Hawke went sailing down To the glory of deep-sea kings! By the storm-beat wings of the hawk, the hawk f Bent beak and pitiless breast, They clove their way thro 1 the red sea-fray/ Who wakens me now to the quest. [38] THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST T TELL you a tale to-night * Which a seaman told to me, With eyes that gleamed in the lanthorn light And a voice as low as the sea. You could almost hear the stars Twinkling up in the sky, And the old wind woke and moaned in the spars, And the same old waves went by, Singing the same old song As ages and ages ago, While he froze my blood in that deep-sea night With the things that he seemed to know. A bare foot pattered on deck ; Ropes creaked ; then all grew still, And he pointed his finger straight in my face And growled, as a sea-dog will. " Do'ee know who Nelson was? That pore little shrivelled form, With the patch on his eye and the pinned-up sleeve And a soul like a North Sea storm ? [39] THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST " Ask of the Devonshire men ! They know, and they'll tell you true ; He wasn't the pore little chawed-up chap That Hardy thought he knew. " He wasn't the man you think ! His patch was a dern disguise! For he knew that they'd find him out, d'you see, If they looked him in both his eyes. " He was twice as big as he seemed ; But his clothes were cunningly made. He'd both of his hairy arms all right! The sleeve was a trick of the trade. " You've heard of sperrits, no doubt ; Well, there's more in the matter than that! But he wasn't the patch and he wasn't the sleeve, And he wasn't the laced cocked-hat. " Nelson was just a Ghost/ You may laugh! But the Devonshire men They knew that he'd come when England called, And they know that he'll come again. " I'll tell you the way it was (For none of the landsmen know), [40] THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST And to tell it you right, you must go a-starn Two hundred years or so. " The waves were lapping and slapping The same as they are to-day; And Drake lay dying aboard his ship In Nombre Dios Bay. " The scent of the foreign flowers Came floating all around ; ' But I'd give my soul for the smell o' the pitch,' Says he, ' in Plymouth Sound. " ' What shall I do,' he says, ' When the guns begin to roar, An' England wants me, and me not there To shatter 'er foes once more ? ' " (You've heard what he said, maybe, But I'll mark you the p'ints again; For I want you to box your compass right And get my story plain.) " ' You must take my drum,' he says, ' To the old sea-wall at home ; [ 41 1 THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST And if ever you strike that drum,' he says, ' Why, strike me blind, I'll come! 1 ' If England needs me, dead Or living, I'll rise that day! I'll rise from the darkness under the sea Ten thousand miles away.' " That's what he said ; and he died ; An' his pirates, listenin' roun', With their crimson doublets and jewelled swords That flashed as the sun went down. " They sewed him up in his shroud With a round-shot top and toe, To sink him under the salt sharp sea Where all good seamen go. " They lowered him down in the deep, And there in the sunset light They boomed a broadside over his grave, As meanin' to say * Good-night.' " They sailed away in the dark To the dear little isle they knew ; [42 ] THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST And they hung his drum by the old sea-wall, The same as he told them to. " Two hundred years went by, And the guns began to roar, And England was righting hard for her life, As ever she fought of yore. " ' It's only my dead that count,' She said, as she says to-day; ' It isn't the ships and it isn't the guns 'Ull sweep Trafalgar's Bay.' " D'you guess who Nelson was ? You may laugh, but it's true as true ! There was more in that pore little chawed-up chap Than ever his best friend knew. " The foe was creepin' close, In the dark, to our white-cliffed isle; They were ready to leap at England's throat, When O, you may smile, you may smile ; " But ask of the Devonshire men ; For they heard in the dead of night [ 43 ] THE ADMIRAL'S GHOST The roll of a drum, and they saw him pass On a ship all shining white. " He stretched out his dead cold face, And he sailed in the grand old way! The fishes had taken an eye and an arm, But he swept Trafalgar's Bay. " Nelson was Francis Drake ! O, what matters the uniform, Or the patch on your eye or your pinned-up sleeve, If your soul's like a North Sea storm ? " I 44 I EDINBURGH ITY of mist and rain and blown gray spaces, Dashed with wild wet color and gleam of tears, Dreaming in Holyrood halls of the passionate faces Lifted to one Queen's face that has conquered the years, Are not the halls of thy memory haunted places? Cometh there not as a moon (where the blood-rust sears Floors a-flutter of old with silks and laces) , Gliding, a ghostly Queen, thro' a mist of tears? Proudly here, with a loftier pinnacled splendor, Throned in his northern Athens, what spells remain Still on the marble lips of the Wizard, and render Silent the gazer on glory without a stain ! Here and here, do we whisper, with hearts more tender, Tusitala wandered thro' mist and rain; Rainbow-eyed and frail and gallant and slender, Dreaming of pirate-isles in a jewelled main. [45] EDINBURGH in Up the Canongate climbeth, cleft asunder Raggedly here, with a glimpse of the distant sea Flashed through a Crumbling alley, a glimpse of wonder, Nay, for the City is throned on Eternity ! Hark ! from the soaring castle a cannon's thunder Closeth an hour for the world and an aeon for me, Gazing at last from the martial heights whereunder Deathless memories roll to an ageless sea. [46] RED OF THE DAWN THE Dawn peered in with blood-shot eyes Pressed close against the cracked old *pane. The garret slept: the slow sad rain Had ceased: gray fogs obscured the skies; But Dawn peered in with haggard eyes. n All as last night? The three-legged chair, The bare walls and the tattered bed, All ! but for those wild flakes of red (And Dawn, perhaps, had splashed them there!) Round the bare walls, the bed, the chair. m 'Twas here, last night, when winds were loud, A ragged singing-girl, she came Out of the tavern's glare and shame, With some few pence for she was proud Came home to sleep, when winds were loud. [47 1 RED OF THE DAWN IV And she sleeps well ; for she was tired ! That huddled shape beneath the sheet With knees up-drawn, no wind or sleet Can wake her now ! Sleep she desired ; And she sleeps well, for she was tired. And there was one that followed her With some unhappy curse called " love " : Last night, though winds beat loud above, She shrank! Hark, on the creaking stair, What stealthy footstep followed her? VI But now the Curse, it seemed, had gone! The small tin-box, wherein she hid Old childish treasures, had burst its lid, Dawn kissed her doll's cracked face. It shone Red-smeared, but laughing the Curse is gone. vn So she sleeps well : she does not move ; And on the wall, the chair, the bed, Is it the Dawn that splashes red, [48 ] RED OF THE DAWN High as the text where God is Love Hangs o'er her head? She does not move. VIII The clock dictates its old refrain: All else is quiet; or, far away, Shaking the world with new-born day, There thunders past some mighty train: The clock dictates its old refrain. IX The Dawn peers in with blood-shot eyes: The crust, the broken cup are there! She does not rise yet to prepare Her scanty meal. God does not rise And pluck the blood-stained sheet from her; But Dawn peers in with haggard eyes. t49] LAVENDER T A VENDER, lavender, *~* That makes your linen sweet; The hawker brings his basket Down the sooty street: The dirty doors and pavements Are simmering in the heat: He brings a dream to London, And drags his weary feet. Lavender, lavender, From where the bee hums, To the loud roar of London, With purple dreams he comes, From ragged lanes of wild-flowers To ragged London slums, With a basket full of lavender And purple dreams he comes. Is it nought to you that hear him? With the old strange cry The weary hawker passes, And some will come and buy, And some will let him pass away And only heave a sigh, [ 50] LAVENDER But most will neither heed nor hear When dreams go by. Lavender, lavender! His songs were fair and sweet, He brought us harvests out of heaven, Full sheaves of radiant wheat; He brought us keys to Paradise, And hawked them thro' the street; He brought his dreams to London, And dragged his weary feet. Lavender, lavender! He is gone. The sunset glows; But through the brain of London The mystic fragrance flows. Each foggy cell remembers, Each ragged alley knows, The land he left behind him, The land to which he goes. T5i J THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVI- TATION ONCE upon a time! Ah, now the light is burn- ing dimly, Peterkin is here again : he wants another tale ! Don't you hear him whispering The wind is in the chimley, The ottoman's a treasure-ship, we'll all set sail? H All set sail ? No, the wind is very loud to-night : The darkness on the waters is much deeper than of yore, Yet I wonder hark, he whispers if the little streets are still as bright In old Japan, in old Japan, that happy haunted shore. in I wonder hush, he whispers if perhaps the world will wake again iWhen Christmas brings the stories back from where the skies are blue, [52] THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVITATION Where clouds are scattering diamonds down on every cottage window-pane, And every boy's a fairy prince, and every tale is true. IV There the sword Excalibur is thrust into the dragon's throat, Evil there is evil, black is black, and white is white : There the child triumphant hurls the villain splutter- ing into the moat; There the captured princess only waits the peerless knight. Fairyland is gleaming there beyond the Sherwood Forest trees, There the City of the Clouds has anchored on the plain All her misty vistas and slumber-rosy palaces (Shall me not, ah, shall we not, wander there again?) [53] THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVITATION VI " Happy ever after " there, the lights of home a wel- come fling Softly thro' the darkness as the star that shone of old, Softly over Bethlehem and o'er the little cradled King Whom the sages worshipped with their frankincense and gold. vn Once upon a time perhaps a hundred thousand years ago Whisper to me, Peterkin, I have forgotten when ! Once upon a time there was a way, a way we used to know For stealing off at twilight from the weary ways of men. VIII Whisper it, O whisper it the way, the way is all I needl All the heart and will are here and all the deep desire ! Once upon a time ah, now the light is drawing near indeed, I see the fairy faces flush to roses round the fire. [54] THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVITATION IX Once upon a time the little lips are on my cheek again, Little fairy fingers clasped and clinging draw me nigh, Dreams, no more than dreams, but they unloose the weary prisoner's chain And lead him from his dungeon ! " What's a thousand years?" they cry. A thousand years, a thousand years, a little drifting dream ago, All of us were hunting with a band of merry men, The skies were blue, the boughs were green, the clouds were crisping isles of snow . . . ... So Robin blew his bugle, and the Now became the Then. [55] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED (AN EPISODE IN THE LIFE OF A CORN-FLOWER MILLIONAIRE.) A LL the way to Fairyland across the thyme and "* ^ heather, Round a little bank of fern that rustled on the sky, Me and stick and bundle, sir, we jogged along to- gether, ( Changeable the weather ? Well it ain't all pie ! ) Just about the sunset Won't you listen to my story ? Look at me! I'm only rags and tatters to your eye! Sir, that blooming sunset crowned this battered hat with glory! Me that was a crawling worm became a butterfly (Ain't it hot and dry? Thank you, sir, thank you, sir !) a blooming butterfly. [56] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED n Well, it happened this way ! I was lying loose and lazy, Just as of a Sunday, you yourself might think no shame, Puffing little clouds of smoke, and picking at a daisy, Dreaming of your dinner, p'raps, or wishful for the same: Suddenly, around that ferny bank there slowly waddled Slowly as the finger of a clock her shadow came Slowly as a tortoise down that winding path she toddled Leaning on a crooked staff, a poor old crooked dame, Limping, but not lame, Tick, tack, tick, tack, a poor old crooked dame. Ill Slowly did I say, sir? Well, you've heard that funny fable Consekint the tortoise and the race it gave an 'are? This was curiouser than that ! At first I wasn't able Quite to size the memory up that bristled thro' my hair : Suddenly, I'd got it, with a nasty shivery feeling, Wriile she walked and walked and yet was not a bit more near, [57 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Sir, it was the tread-mill earth beneath her feet a-wheeling Faster than her feet could trot to heaven or anywhere, Earth's revolvin' stair Wheeling, while my wayside clump was kind of anchored there. 17 'Tick, tack, tick, tack, and just a little nearer, Inch and 'arf an inch she went, but never gained a yard: Quiet as a fox I lay ; I didn't wish to scare *er, Watching thro' the ferns, and thinking " What a rum old card ! " Both her wrinkled tortoise eyes with yellow resin oozing, Both her poor old bony hands were red and seamed and scarred! Lord, I felt as if myself was in a public boozing, While my own old woman went about and scrubbed and charred! Lord, it seemed so hard! Tick, tack, tick, tack, she never gained a yard. [58] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED v Yus, and there in front of her I hadn't seen it rightly Lurked that little finger-post to point another road, Just a tiny path of poppies twisting infi-nite-ly Through the whispering seas of wheat, a scarlet thread that showed White with ox-eye daisies here and there and chalky cobbles, Blue with waving corn-flowers: far and far away it glowed, Winding into heaven, I thinks; but, Lord, the way she hobbles, Lord, she'll never reach it, for she bears too great a load; Yus, and then I knowed, If she did, she couldn't, for the board was marked No Road. VI Tick, tack, tick, tack, I couldn't wait no longer! Up I gets and bows polite and pleasant as a toff " Arternoon," I says, " I'm glad your boots are going stronger ; Only thing I'm dreading is your feet 'ull both come off." [59] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Tick, tack, tick, tack, she didn't stop to answer, " Arternoon," she says, and sort o' chokes a little cough, " I must get to Piddinghoe to-morrow if I can, sir ! " " Demme, my good woman ! Haw ! Don't think I mean to loff," Says I, like a toff, "Where d'you mean to sleep to-night? God made this grass for go'ff." VII Tick, tack, tick, tack, and smilingly she eyed me (Dreadful the low cunning of these creechars, don't you think?) "That's all right! The weather's bright. Them bushes there 'ull hide me. Don't the gorse smell nice? " I felt my denied old eyelids blink! "Supper? I've a crust of bread, a big one, and a bottle," (Just as I expected! Ah, these creechars always drink!) " Sugar and water and half a pinch of tea to rinse my throttle, [60] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Then I'll Curl up cosy!" "If you're cotched it means the clink ! " " Yus, but don't you think If a star should see me, God 'ull tell that star to wink?" VIII " Now, look here," I says, " I don't know what your blooming age is ! " " Three-score years and five," she says, " that's five more years to go Tick, tack, tick, tack, before I gets my wages ! " " Wages all be damned," I says, " there's one thing that I know Gals that stay out late o' nights are sure to meet wi' sorrow. Speaking as a toff," I says, " it isn't comme il faut! Tell me why you want to get to Piddinghoe to-morrow." " That was where my son worked, twenty years ago!" " Twenty years ago? Never wrote? May still be there? Remember you ? . . . Just so ! " THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED IX Yus, it was a drama; but she weren't my long-lost parent ! Tick, tack, tick, tack, she trotted all the while, Never getting forrarder, and not the least aware on't, Though I stood beside her with a sort of silly smile Stock-still! Tick, tack! This blooming world's a bubble: There I stood and stared at it, mile on flowery mile, Chasing o' the sunset. " Gals are sure to meet wi' trouble Staying out o' nights," I says, once more, and tries to smile, " Come, that ain't your style, Here's a shilling, mother, for to-day I've made my pile!" x Yus, a dozen coppers, all my capital, it fled, sir, Representin' twelve bokays that cost me nothink each, Twelve bokays o' corn-flowers blue that grew beside my bed, sir, That same day, at sunrise, when the sky was like a peach : Easy as a poet's dreams they blossomed round my head, sir, [ 62] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED All I had to do was just to lift my hand and reach : So, upon the roaring waves I cast my blooming bread, sir, Bread I'd earned with nose-gays on the bare-fut Brighton beach, Nose-gays and a speech, All about the bright blue eyes they matched on Brighton Beach. XI Still, you've only got to hear the bankers on the budget, Then you'll know the giving game is hardly " high finance " ; Which no more it wasn't for that poor old dame to trudge it, Tick, tack, tick, tack, on such a devil's dance : Crumbs, it took me quite aback to see her stop so humble, Casting up into my face a sort of shiny glance, Bless you, bless you, that was what I thought I heard her mumble, Lord, a prayer for poor old Bill, a rummy sort of chance! Crumbs, that shiny glance Kinder made me king of all the sky from here to France. [ 63 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED XII Tick, tack, tick, tack, but now she toddled faster: Soon she'd reach the little twisted by-way through the wheat. " Look'ee here," I says, " young woman, don't you court disaster ! Peepin' through yon poppies there's a cottage trim and neat, White as chalk and sweet as turf: wot price a bed for sorrow, Sprigs of lavender between the pillow and the sheet?" " No," she says, " I've got to get to Piddinghoe to- morrow ! P'raps they'd tell the work'us! And I've lashings here to eat: Don't the gorse smell sweet?" . . . Well, I turned and left her plodding on beside the wheat. XIII Every cent I'd given her like a hero in a story ; Yet, alone with leagues of wheat I seemed to grow aware Solomon himself, arrayed in all his golden glory, [64] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Couldn't vie with Me, the corn-flower king, the millionaire ! How to cash those bright blue checques that night? My trouser pockets Jingled sudden! Six more pennies, crept from James knew where! Crumbs! I hurried back with eyes just bulging from their sockets, Pushed 'em in the old dame's fist and listened for the prayer, Shamming not to care, Bill the blarsted chicken-thief, the corn-flower millionaire. XIV Tick, tack, tick, tack, and faster yet she clattered ! Aye, she'd almost gained a yard ! I left her once again. Feeling very warm inside and sort of 'ighly flattered, On I plodded, all alone, with hay-stacks in my brain. Suddenly, with chink chink chink, the old sweet jingle Startled me! 'Twas THRUPPENCE MORE! three coppers round and plain! Lord, temptation struck me and I felt my gullet tingle. [6 5 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Then I hurried back beside them seas of golden grain : No, I can't explain ; There I thrust 'em in her fist, and left her once again. xv Tinkle-chink! THREE HA'PENCE! If the vulgar fractions followed, Big fleas have little fleas! It flashed upon me there, Like the snakes of Pharaoh which the snakes of Moses swallowed All the world was playing at the tortoise and the hare: Half the smallest atom is my soul was getting tipsy Heaven is one big circle and the centre's everywhere, Yus, and that old woman was an angel and a gipsy, Yus, and Bill, the chicken-thief, the corn-flower millionaire, Shamming not to care, What was he ? A seraph on the misty rainbow-stair ! [66] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED XVI Don't you make no doubt of it ! The deeper that you look, sir, All your ancient poets tell you just the same as me, What about old Ovid and his most indecent book, sir, Morphosizing females into flower and star and tree ? What about old Proteus and his 'ighly curious 'abits, Mixing of his old gray beard into the old gray sea? What about old Darwin and the hat that brought forth rabbits, Mud and slime that growed into the pomp of Ninevey ? What if there should be One great Power beneath it all, one God in you and me? XVII Anyway, it seemed to me I'd struck the world's pump- handle! " Back with that three ha'pence, Bill," I mutters, " or you're lost." Back I hurries thro' the dusk where, shining like a candle, Pale before the sunset stood that fairy finger-post. Sir, she wasn't there/ I'd struck the place where all roads crost, [6 7 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED All the roads in all the world. She couldn't yet have trotted Even to the . . . Hist! a stealthy step behind? A ghost? Swish! A flying noose had caught me round the neck! Garotted ! Back I staggered, clutching at the moonbeams, yus, almost Throttled! Sir, I boast Bill is tough, but . . . when it comes to throt- tling by a ghost! ** XVIII Winged like a butterfly, tall and slender Out It steps with the rope on its arm. " Crumbs," I says, " all right! I surrender! When have I crossed you or done you harm ? Ef you're a sperrit," I says, " O, crikey, Ef you're a sperrit, get hence, vamoose ! " Sweet as music, she spoke " I'm Psyche! " Choking me still with her silken noose. XIX Straight at the word from the ferns and blossoms Fretting the moon-rise over the downs, Little blue wings and little white bosoms, Little white faces with golden crowns, [ 68] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Peeped, and the colors came twinkling round me, Laughed, and the turf grew purple with thyme, Danced, and the sweet crushed scents nigh drowned me, Sang, and the hare-bells rang in chime. XX All around me, gliding and gleaming, Fair as a fallen sunset-sky, Butterfly wings came drifting, dreaming, Clouds of the little folk clustered nigh, Little white hands like pearls uplifted Cords of silk in shimmering skeins, Cast them about me and dreamily drifted Winding me round with their soft warm chains. XXI Round and round me they dizzily floated, Binding me faster with every turn : Crumbs, my pals would have grinned and gloated Watching me over that fringe of fern, Bill, with his battered old hat outstanding Black as a foam-swept rock to the moon, Bill, like a rainbow of silks expanding Into a beautiful big cocoon, [ 69] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED xxn Big as a cloud, though his hat still crowned him, Yus, and his old boots bulged below : Seas of color went shimmering round him, Dancing, glimmering, glancing, a-glow! Bill knew well what them elves were at, sir, Ain't you an en-to-mol-o-gist ? Well, despite of his old black hat, sir, Bill was becoming a chrysalist. XXIII Muffled, smothered in a sea of emerald and opal, Down a dazzling gulf of dreams I sank and sank away, Wound about with twenty thousand yards of silken rope, all Shimmering into crimson, glimmering into gray, Drowsing, waking, living, dying, just as you regards it, Buried in a sunset-cloud, or cloud of breaking day, 'Cording as from East or West yourself might look to-wards it, [70] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Losing, gaining, lost in darkness, ragged, grimy, gay, 'And-cuffed, not to say Gagged, but both my shoulders budding, sprouting white as May. xxrv Sprouting like the milky buds o' hawthorn in the night- time, Pouting like the snowy buds o' roses in July, Spreading in my chrysalist and waiting for the right time, When I thought they'd bust to wings and Bill would rise and fly, Tick, tack, tick, tack, as if it came in answer, Sweeping o'er my head again the tide o' dreams went by- / must get to Piddinghoe to-morrow if I can, sir, Tick, tack, a crackle in my chrysalist, a cry ! Then the warm blue sky Bust the shell, and out crept Bill a blooming butterfly! XXV Blue as a corn-flower, blazed the zenith : the deepening East like a scarlet poppy [71 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Burned while, dazzled with golden bloom, white clouds like daisies, green seas like wheat, Gripping the sign-post, first, I climbs, to sun my wings, which were wrinkled and floppy, Spreading 'em white o'er the words No Road, and hanging fast by my six black feet. XXVI Still on my head was the battered old beaver, but through it my clubbed antennae slanted, ("Feelers" yourself would probably call 'em) my battered old boots were hardly seen Under the golden fluff of the tail! It was Bill, sir, Bill, though highly enchanted, Spreading his beautiful snow-white pinions, tipped with orange and veined with green. XXVII Yus, old Bill was an Orange-tip, a spirit in glory, a blooming Psyche ! New, it was new from East to West this rummy old world that I dreamed I knew, How can I tell you the things that I saw with my what shall / call 'em ? " feelers "? O, crikey, " FEELERS " ? You know how the man born blind described such colors as scarlet or blue. [ 72] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED xxvm " Scarlet," he says, " is the sound of a trumpet, blue is a flute," for he hasn't a notion ! No, nor nobody living on earth can tell it him plain, if he hasn't the sight ! That's how it stands with ragged old Bill, a-drift and a-dream on a measureless ocean, Gifted wi' fifteen new-born senses, and seeing you blind to their new strange light. XXIX How can I tell you? Sir, you must wait, till you die like Bill, ere you understand it! Only I saw the same as a bee that strikes to his hive ten leagues away Straight as a die, while I winked and blinked on that sun-warmed wood and my wings expanded (Whistler drawings that men call wings) I saw and I flew that's all I can say. Flew over leagues of whispering wonder, fairy forests and flowery palaces, Love-lorn casements, delicate kingdoms, beautiful flaming thoughts of Him; [ 73 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Feasts of a million blue-mailed angels lifting their honey-and-wine-brimmed chalices, Throned upon clouds (which you'd call white clover) down to the world's most rosiest rim. XXXI New and new and new and new, the white o' the cliffs and the wind in the heather, Yus, and the sea-gulls flying like flakes of the sea that flashed to the new-born day, Song, song, song, song, quivering up in the wild blue weather, Thousands of seraphim singing together, and me just flying and knowing my way. XXXII Straight as a die to Piddinghoe's dolphin, and there I drops in a cottage garden, There, on a sun-warmed window-sill, I winks and peeps, for the window was wide ! Crumbs, he was there and fast in her arms and a-begging his poor old mother's pardon, There with his lips on her old gray hair, and her head on his breast while she laughed and cried, [74] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED XXXIII " One and nine-pence that old tramp gave me, or else I should never have reached you, sonny, Never, and you just leaving the village to-day and meaning to cross the sea, One and nine-pence he gave me, I paid for the farmer's lift with half o J the money! Here's the ten-pence halfpenny, sonny, 'twill pay for our little 'ouse-w arming tea." XXXIV Tick, tack, tick, tack, out into the garden Toddles that old Fairy with his arm about her so, Cuddling of her still, and still a-begging of her pardon, While she says " I wish the corn-flower king could only know ! Bless him, bless him, once again," she says and softly gazes t Up to heaven, a-smiling in her mutch as white as snow, All among her gilly-flowers and stocks and double daisies, [75 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Mignonette, forget-me-not, . . . Twenty years ago, All a rosy glow, This is how it was, she said, Twenty years ago. XXXV Once again I seemed to wake, the vision it had fled, sir, There I lay upon the downs: the sky was like a peach ; Yus, with twelve bokays of corn-flowers blue beside my bed, sir, More than usual 'andsome, so they'd bring me two- pence each. Easy as a poet's dreams they blossomed round my head, sir, All I had to do was just to lift my hand and reach, Tie 'em with a bit of string, and earn my blooming bread, sir, Selling little nose-gays on the bare-foot Brighton beach, Nose-gays an d a speech, All about the bright blue eyes they matched on Brighton beach. [76] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED XXXVI Overhead the singing lark and underfoot the heather, Far and blue in front of us the unplumbed sky, Me and stick and bundle, O, we jogs along together, (Changeable the weather? Well, it ain't all pie!) Weather's like a woman, sir, and if she wants to quarrel, If her eyes begin to flash and hair begins to fly, You've to wait a little, then the story has a moral Ain't the sunny kisses all the sweeter by and bye ? (Crumbs, it's 'ot and dry! Thank you, sir! Thank you, sir!) the sweeter by and bye. XXXVII So the world's my sweetheart and I sort of want to squeeze 'er. Toffs 'ull get no chance of heaven, take 'em in the lump! Never laid in hay-fields when the dawn came over-sea, sir? Guess it's true that story 'bout the needle and the hump! Never crept into a stack because the wind was blowing, Hollered out a nest and closed the door-way with a clump, [ 77 ] THE TRAMP TRANSFIGURED Laid and heard the whisper of the silence, growing, growing, Watched a thousand wheeling stars and wondered if they'd bump? What I say would stump Joshua! But I've done it, sir. Don't think I'm off my chump. XXXVIII If you try and lay, sir, with your face turned up to wonder, Up to twenty million miles of stars that roll like one, Right across to God knows where, and you just huddled under Like a little beetle with no business of his own, There you'd hear like growing grass a funny silent sound, sir, Mixed with curious crackles in a steady undertone, Just the sound of twenty billion stars a-going round, sir, Yus, and you beneath 'em like a wise old ant, alone, Ant upon a stone, Waving of his antlers, on the Sussex downs, alone. ON THE DOWNS \X7 IDE-EYED our childhood roamed the world Knee-deep in blowing grass, And watched the white clouds crisply curled Above the mountain-pass, And lay among the purple thyme And from its fragrance caught Strange hints from some elusive clime Beyond the bounds of thought. Glimpses of fair forgotten things Beyond the gates of birth, Half-caught from far off ancient springs In heaven, and half of earth; And colored like a fairy-tale And whispering evermore Half memories from the half-fenced pale Of lives we lived before. Here, weary of the roaring town A-while may I return And while the west wind roams the down Lie still, lie still and learn: Here are green leagues of murmuring wheat With blue skies overhead, [ 79 ] ON THE DOWNS And, all around, the winds are sweet With May-bloom, white and red. And, to and fro, the bee still hums His low unchanging song, And the same rustling whisper comes As through the ages long : Through all the thousands of the years That same sweet rumor flows, With dreaming skies and gleaming tears And kisses and the rose. Once more the children throng the lanes, Themselves like flowers, to weave Their garlands and their daisy-chains And listen and believe The tale of Once-upon-a-time, And hear the Long-ago And Happy-ever-after chime Because it must be so. And by those thousands of the years It is, though scarce we see, Dazed with the rainbows of our tears, Their steadfast unity, [ 80] ON THE DOWNS It is, or life's disjointed schemes, These stones, these ferns unfurled With such deep care a madman's dreams Were wisdom to this world ! Dust into dust! Lie still and learn, Hear how the ages sing The solemn joy of our return To that which makes the Spring: Even as we came, with childhood's trust, Wide-eyed we go, to Thee Who boldest in Thy sacred dust The heavenly Springs to be. [81 ] A MAY-DAY CAROL TT7 HAT is the loveliest light that Spring Rosily parting her robe of gray Girdled with leaflet green, can fling Over the fields where her white feet stray? What is the merriest promise of May Flung o'er the dew-drenched April flowers? Tell me, you on the pear-tree spray Carol of birds between the showers. What can life at its lightest bring Better than this on its brightest day? How should we fetter the white-throat's wing Wild with joy of its woodland way? Sweet, should love for an hour delay, Swift, while the primrose-time is ours! What is the lover's royallest lay ? Carol of birds between the showers. What is the murmur of bees a-swing? What is the laugh of a child at play ? What is the song that the angels sing? (Where were the tune could the sweet notes stay Longer than this, to kiss and betray?) Nay, on the blue sky's topmost towers, [ 82 ] A MAY-DAY CAROL What is the song of the seraphim? Say Carol of birds between the showers. Thread the stars on a silver string, (So did they sing in Bethlehem's bowers!) Mirth for a little one, grief for a king, Carol of birds between the showers. [83] THE CALL OF THE SPRING , choose your road and away, my lad, Come, choose your road and away ! .We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown As it dips to the dazzling day. It's a long white road for the weary ; But it rolls through the heart of the May. Though many a road would merrily ring To the tramp of your marching feet, All roads are one from the day that's done, And the miles are swift and sweet, And the graves of your friends are the mile-stones To the land where all roads meet. But the call that you hear this day, my lad, Is the Spring's old bugle of mirth When the year's green fire in a soul's desire Is brought like a rose to the birth; And knights ride out to adventure As the flowers break out of the earth. Over the sweet-smelling mountain-passes The clouds lie brightly curled; [ 84 ] THE CALL OF THE SPRING The wild-flowers cling to the crags and swing With cataract-dews impearled; And the way, the way that you choose this day Is the way to the end of the world. It rolls from the golden long ago To the land that we ne'er shall find ; And it's uphill here, but it's downhill there, For the road is wise and kind, And all rough places and cheerless faces Will soon be left behind. Come, choose your road and away, away, We'll follow the gypsy sun ; For it's soon, too soon to the end of the day, And the day is well begun ; And the road rolls on through the heart of the May, And there's never a May but one. There's a fir-wood here, and a dog-rose there, And a note of the mating dove; And a glimpse, maybe, of the warm blue sea, And the warm white clouds above ; And warm to your breast in a tenderer nest Your sweetheart's little glove. [ 85 1 THE CALL OF THE SPRING There's not much better to win, my lad, There's not much better to win ! You have lived, you have loved, you have fought, you have proved The worth of folly and sin ; So now come out of the City's rout, Come out of the dust and the din. Come out, a bundle and stick is all You'll need to carry along, If your heart can carry a kindly word, And your lips can carry a song; You may leave the lave to the keep o' the grave, If your lips can carry a song! Come, choose your road and away, my lad, Come, choose your road and away! We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown, As it dips to the sapphire day I 'All roads may meet at the world's end, ' But, hey for the heart of the May! Come, choose your road and away, dear lad. Come choose your road and away. [86] A DEVONSHIRE DITTY TN a leafy lane of Devon * There's a cottage that I know, Then a garden then, a gray old crumbling wall, And the wall's the wall of heaven (Where I hardly care to go) And there isn't any fiery sword at all. II But I never went to heaven. There was right good reason why, For they sent a shining angel to me there, An angel, down in Devon, (Clad in muslin by the bye) With the halo of the sunshine on her hair. Ill Ah, whate'er the darkness covers, And whate'er we sing or say, Would you climb the wall of heaven an hour too soon [87 ] A DEVONSHIRE DITTY If you knew a place for lovers Where the apple-blossoms stray Out of heaven to sway and whisper to the moon? IV When we die we'll think of Devon Where the garden's all aglow With the flowers that stray across the gray old wall: Then we'll climb it, out of heaven, From the other side you know, Straggle over it from heaven With the apple-blossom snow, Tumble back again to Devon Laugh and love as long ago, Where there isn't any fiery sword at all. [88] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES TTALF a hundred terrible pig-tails, pirates famous ** in song and story, Hoisting the old black flag once more, in a palmy harbor of Caribbee, " Farewell " we waved to our negro lasses, and chorus- sing out to the billows of glory, Billows a-glitter with rum and gold, we followed the sunset over the sea. While earth goes round, let rum go round, Our capstan song we sung: 'Half a hundred broad-sheet pirates When the world was young! Sea-roads plated with pieces of eight that rolled to a heaven by rum made mellow, Heaved and colored our barque's black nose where the Lascar sang to a twinkling star, And the tangled bow-sprit plunged and dipped its point in the West's wild red and yellow, Till the curved white moon crept out astern like a naked knife from a blue cymar. [89] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES While earth goes round, let rum go round, Our capstan song we sung: Half a hundred terrible pirates When the world was young! Half a hundred tarry pig-tails, Teach, the chewer of glass, had taught us, Taught us to balance the plank ye walk, your little plank-bridge to Kingdom Come : Half a score had sailed with Flint, and a dozen or so the devil had brought us Back from the pit where Blackbeard lay, in Beelze- bub's bosom, a-screech for rum. 'While earth goes round, let rum go round, Our capstan song we sung: Half a hundred piping pirates When the world was young/ There was Captain Hook (of whom ye have heard so called from his terrible cold steel twister, His own right hand having gone to a shark with a taste for skippers on pirate-trips), There was Silver himself, with his cruel crutch, and the blind man Pew, with a phiz like a blister, Gouged and white and dreadfully dried in the reek of a thousand burning ships. [90] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES While earth goes round, let rum go round, Our capstan song we sung: Half a hundred cut-throat pirates When the world was young! With our silver buckles and French cocked hats and our skirted coats (they were growing greener, But green and gold look well when spliced ! We'd trimmed 'em up wi' some fine fresh lace) Bravely over the seas we danced to the horn-pipe tune of a concertina, Cutlasses jetting beneath our skirts and cambric handkerchiefs all in place. While earth goes round let rum go round, Our capstan song we sung: Half a hundred elegant pirates When the world was young! And our black prow grated, one golden noon, on the happiest isle of the Happy Islands, An isle of Paradise, fair as a gem, on the sparkling breast of the wine-dark deep, An isle of blossom and yellow sand, and enchanted vines on the purple highlands, Wi' grapes like melons, nay clustering suns, a-sprawl over cliffs in their noonday sleep. [91 ]' BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES While earth goes round, let rum go round, Our capstan song we sung: Half a hundred dream-struck pirates When the world was young! And lo! on the soft warm edge of the sand, where the sea like wine in a golden noggin Creamed, and the rainbow-bubbles clung to his flame-red hair, a white youth lay, Sleeping; and now, as his drowsy grip relaxed, the cup that he squeezed his grog in Slipped from his hand and its purple dregs were mixed with the flames and flakes of spray. He'd only a leopard-skin around His chest, whereas we sung: Half a hundred diffident pirates When the world was young/ And we suddenly saw (had we seen them before? They were colored like sand or the pelt on his shoulders) His head was pillowed on two great leopards, whose breathing rose and sank with his own ; Now a pirate is bold, but the vision was rum and would call for rum in the best of beholders, [92] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES And it seemed we had seen Him before, in a dream, with that flame-red hair and that vine-leaf crown. And the earth went round, and the rum went round, And softlier now we sung: Half a hundred awe-struck pirates When the world was young! Now Timothy Hook (of whom ye have heard with his talon of steel) our doughty skipper, A man that, in youth being brought up pious, had many a book on his cabin-shelf, Suddenly caught at a comrade's hand with the tearing claws of his cold steel flipper And cried, " Great Thunder and Brimstone, boys, I've hit it at last ! 'Tis Bacchus himself" And the earth went round, and the rum went round, And never a word we sung: Half a hundred tottering pirates When the world was young! He flung his French cocked hat i' the foam (though its lace was the best of his wearing apparel) : [93 ] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES We stared at him Bacchus! the sea reeled round like a wine-vat splashing with purple dreams, And the sunset-skies were dashed with blood of the grape as the sun like a new-staved barrel Flooded the tumbling West with wine and spattered the clouds with crimson gleams. 'And the earth went round, and our heads went round, And never a word we sung: Half a hundred staggering pirates When the world was young! Down to the ship for a fishing-net our crafty Hook sent Silver leaping; Back he came on his pounding crutch, for all the world like a kangaroo; And we caught the net and up to the Sleeper on hands and knees we all went creeping, Flung it across him and staked it down ! 'Twas the best of our dreams and the dream was true. And the earth went round, and the rum went round, And loudly now we sung: Half a hundred jubilant pirates When the world was young! [94] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES We had caught our god, and we got him aboard ere he woke (he was more than a little heavy) ; Glittering, beautiful, flushed he lay in the lurching bows of the old black barque, As the sunset died and the white moon dawned, and we saw on the island a star-bright bevy Of naked Bacchanals stealing to watch through the whispering vines in the purple dark! While earth goes round, let rum go round. Our capstan song we sung: Half a hundred innocent pirates When the world was young! Beautiful under the sailing moon, in the tangled net, with the leopards beside him, Snared like a wild young red-lipped merman, wilful, petulant, flushed he lay; While Silver and Hook in their big sea-boots and their boat-cloaks guarded and gleefully eyed him, Thinking what Bacchus might do for a seaman, like standing him drinks, as a man might say. While earth goes round, let rum go round, We sailed away and sung: Half a hundred fanciful pirates. When the world was young! [95 ] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES All the grog that ever was heard of, gods, was it stowed in our sure possession? O, the pictures that broached the skies and poured their colors across our dreams ! O, the thoughts that tapped the sunset, and rolled like a great torchlight procession Down our throats in a glory of glories, a roaring splendor of golden streams! And the earth went round, and the stars went round, As we hauled the sheets and sung: Half a hundred infinite pirates When the world was young! Beautiful, white, at the break of day, He woke and, the net in a smoke dissolving, He rose like a flame, with his yellow-eyed pards and his flame-red hair like a windy dawn, And the crew kept back, respectful like, till the leopards advanced with their eyes revolving, Then up the rigging went Silver and Hook, and the rest of us followed with case-knives drawn. While earth goes round, let rum go round, Our cross-tree song we sung: Half a hundred terrified pirates When the world was young! [96 ] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES And " Take me home to my happy island ! " he says. " Not I," sings Hook, " by thunder; We'll take you home to a happier isle, our palmy harbor of Caribbee ! " " You won't? " says Bacchus, and quick as a dream the planks of the deck just heaved asunder, And a mighty Vine came straggling up that grew from the depths of the wine-dark sea. And the sea went round, and the skies went round, As our cross-tree song we sung: Half a hundred horrified pirates When the world was young! We were anchored fast as an oak on land, and the branches clutched and the tendrils quickened, And bound us writhing like snakes to the spars ! Ay, we hacked with our knives at the boughs in vain, And Bacchus laughed loud on the decks below, as ever the tough sprays tightened and thickened, And the blazing hours went by, and we gaped with thirst and our ribs were racked with pain. And the skies went round, and the sea swam round, And we knew not what we sung: Half a hundred lunatic pirates When the world was young! [ 97 ] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES Bunch upon bunch of sunlike grapes, as we writhed and struggled and raved and strangled, Bunch upon bunch of gold and purple daubed its bloom on our baked black lips. Clustering grapes, O, bigger than pumpkins, just out of reach they bobbed and dangled Over the vine-entangled sails of that most dumb- founded of pirate ships! 'And the sun went round, and the moon came round, And mocked us where we hung: Half a hundred maniac pirates When the world was young! Over the waters the white moon winked its bruised old eye at our bowery prison, When suddenly we were aware of a light such as never a moon or a ship's lamp throws, And a shallop of pearl, like a Nautilus shell, came shimmering up as by magic arisen, With sails of silk and a glory around it that turned the sea to a rippling rose. And our heads went round, and the stars went round, At the song that cruiser sung: Half a hundred goggled-eyed pirates When the world was young! [ 98 ] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES Half a hundred rose-white Bacchanals hauled the ropes of that rosy cruiser ! Over the seas they came and laid their little white hands on the old black barque; And Bacchus he ups and he steps aboard : " Hi, stop ! " cries Hook, "you frantic old boozer! Belay, below there, don't you go and leave poor pirates to die in the dark ! " 'And the moon went round, and the stars went round, As they all pushed off and sung: Half a hundred ribbonless Bacchanals When the world was young! Over the seas they went and Bacchus he stands, with his yellow-eyed leopards beside him, High on the poop of rose and pearl, and kisses his hand to us, pleasant as pie! While the Bacchanals danced to their tambourines, and the vine-leaves flew, and Hook just eyed him Once, as a man that was brought up pious, and scornfully hollers, " Well, you ain't shy! " For all around him, vine-leaf crowned, The wild white Bacchanals flung! Nor it wasn't a sight for respectable pirates When the world was young! [ 99 ] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES All around that rainbow-Nautilus rippled the bloom of a thousand roses, Nay, but the sparkle of fairy sea-nymphs breasting a fairy-like sea of wine, Swimming around it in murmuring thousands, with white arms tossing; till all that we knows is The light went out, and the night was dark, and the grapes had burst and their juice was brine! And the vines that bound our bodies round Were plain wet ropes that clung: Squeezing the light out o f fifty pirates When the world was young! Over the seas in the pomp of dawn a king's ship came with her proud flag flying; Cloud upon cloud we watched her tower with her belts and her crowded zones of sail; And an A.B. perched in a white crow's nest, with a brass-rimmed spy-glass quietly spying, As we swallowed the lumps in our choking throats and uttered our last faint feeble hail ! And our heads went round as the ship went round, And we thought how coves had swung: [ 100 ] BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES All for playing at broad-sheet pirates When the world was young! Half a hundred trembling corsairs, all cut loose, but a trifle giddy, We lands on their trim white decks at last and the bo'sun he whistles us good hot grog, And we tries to confess, but there wasn't a soul from the Admiral's self to the gold-laced middy But says, " They're delirious still, poor chaps," and the Cap'n he enters the fact in his log, That his boat's crew found us nearly drowned In a barrel without a bung Half a hundred suffering sea-cooks When the world was young! So we sailed by Execution Dock, where the swinging pirates haughty and scornful Rattled their chains, and on Margate beach we came like a school-treat safe to land ; And one of us took to religion at once ; and the rest of the crew, tho' their hearts were mournful, Capered about as Christy Minstrels, while Hook conducted the big brass band. BACCHUS AND THE PIRATES 'And the sun went round, and the moon went round, And f O f 'twas a thought that stung! There was none to believe we were broad-sheet pirates When the world was young! Ah, yet (if ye stand me a noggin of rum) shall the old Blue Dolphin echo the story ! We'll hoist the white cross-bones again in our palmy harbor of Caribbee! We'll wave farewell to our negro lasses and, chorussing out to the billows of glory, Billows a-glitter with rum and gold, we'll follow the sunset over the sea! While earth goes round, let rum go round! O, sing it as we sung! Half a hundred terrible pirates When the world was young! [ 102 ] THE NEWSPAPER BOY TT* LF of the City, a lean little hollow-eyed boy, '-' Ragged and tattered, but lithe as a slip of the Spring, Under the lamp-light he runs with a reckless joy, Shouting a murderer's doom or the death of a King. Out of the darkness he leaps like a wild strange hint, Herald of tragedy, comedy, crime and despair, Waving a poster that hurls you, in fierce black print, One word Mystery, under the lamp's white glare. n Elf of the night of the City, he darts with his crew Out of a vaporous furnace of color that wreathes Magical letters a-flicker from crimson to blue High overhead. All round him the mad world seethes. Hansoms, like cantering beetles, with diamond-eyes Run through the moons of it; busses in yellow and red Hoot ; and St. Paul's is a bubble afloat in the skies, Watching the pale moths flit and the dark death's head. [ 103 ] THE NEWSPAPER BOY ra Painted and powdered they shimmer and rustle and stream Westward, the night moths, masks of the Magdalen ! See, Puck of the revels, he leaps through the sinister dream, Waving his elfin evangel of Mystery, Puck of the bubble or dome of their scoffing or trust, Puck of the fairy-like tower with the clock in its face, Puck of an Empire that whirls on a pellet of dust Bearing his elfin device thro' the splendors of space. IV Mystery is it the scribble of doom on the dark, Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin, again? Mystery, is it a scrap of remembrance, a spark Burning still in the fog of a blind world's brain? Elf of the gossamer tangles of shadow and light, Wild electrical webs and the battle that rolls League upon perishing league thro' the ravenous night, Breaker on perishing breaker of human souls. v Soaked in the colors, a flake of the flying spray Flung over wreckage and yeast of the murderous town, [ 104 ] THE NEWSPAPER BOY Onward he flaunts it, innocent, vicious and gay, Prophet of prayers that are stifled and loves that drown, Urchin and sprat of the City that roars like a sea Surging around him in hunger and splendor and shame, Cruelty, luxury, madness, he leaps in his glee Out of the mazes of mist and the vistas of flame. VI Ragged and tattered he scurries away in the gloom: Over the thundering traffic a moment his cry Mystery! Mystery! reckless of death and doom Rings; and the great wheels roll and the world goes by. Lost, is it lost, that hollow-eyed flash of the light ? Poor little face flying by with the word that saves, Pale little mouth of the mask of the measureless night, Shrilling the heart of it, lost like the foam on its waves ! [ 105 ] THE TWO WORLDS THIS outer world is but the pictured scroll Of worlds within the soul, A colored chart, a blazoned missal-book Whereon who rightly look May spell the splendors with their mortal eyes And steer to Paradise. O, well for him that knows and early knows In his own soul the rose Secretly burgeons, of this earthly flower The heavenly paramour: And all these fairy dreams of green-wood fern, These waves that break and yearn, Shadows and hieroglyphs, hills, clouds and seas, Faces and flowers and trees, Terrestrial picture-parables, relate Each to its heavenly mate. O, well for him that finds in sky and sea This two-fold mystery, And loses not (as painfully he spells The fine-spun syllables) The cadences, the burning inner gleam, The poet's heavenly dream. [ 106 ] Well for the poet if this earthly chart Be printed in his heart, When to his world of spirit woods and seas With eager face he flees And treads the untrodden fields of unknown flowers And threads the angelic bowers, And hears that unheard nightingale whose moan Trembles within his own, And lovers murmuring in the leafy lanes Of his own joys and pains. For though he voyages further than the flight Of earthly day and night, Traversing to the sky's remotest ends A world that he transcends, Safe, he shall hear the hidden breakers roar Against the mystic shore; Shall roam the yellow sands where sirens bare Their breasts and wind their hair; Shall with their perfumed tresses blind his eyes, And still possess the skies. He, where the deep unearthly jungles are, Beneath his Eastern star Shall pass the tawny lion in his den And cross the quaking fen. [ 107 ] THE TWO WORLDS He learnt his path (and treads it undefiled) When, as a little child, He bent his head with long and loving looks O'er earthly picture-books. His earthly love nestles against his side, His young celestial guide. [ 108] GORSE "D ETWEEN my face and the warm blue sky *~* The crisp white clouds go sailing by, And the only sound is the sound of your breathing, The song of a bird and the sea's long sigh. Here, on the downs, as a tale re-told The sprays of the gorse are a-blaze with gold, As of old, on the sea-washed hills of my boyhood, Breathing the same sweet scent as of old. Under a ragged golden spray The great sea sparkles far away, Beautiful, bright, as my heart remembers Many a dazzle of waves in May. Long ago as I watched them shine Under the boughs of fir and pine, Here I watch them to-day and wonder, Here, with my love's hand warm in mine. The soft wings pass that we used to chase, Dreams that I dreamed had left not a trace, The same, the same, with the bars of crimson, The green-veined white, with its floating grace, [ 109 ] GORSE The same to the least bright fleck on their wings! And I close my eyes, and a lost bird sings, And a far sea sighs, and the old sweet fragrance Wraps me round with the dear dead springs, Wraps me round with the springs to be When lovers that think not of you or me Laugh, but our eyes will be closed in darkness, Closed to the sky and the gorse and the sea. And the same great glory of ragged gold Once more, once more, as a tale re-told, Shall whisper their hearts with the same sweet fragrance And their warm hands cling, as of old, as of old. Dead and un-born, the same blue skies Cover us! Love, as I read your eyes, Do I not know whose love enfolds us, As we fold the past in our memories, Past, present, future, the old and the new? From the depths of the grave a cry breaks through And trembles, a skylark blind in the azure, The depths of the all-enfolding blue. [ no] GORSE O, resurrection of folded years Deep in our hearts, with your smiles and tears, Dead and un-born shall not He remember Who folds our cry in His heart, and hears. [in] FOR THE EIGHTIETH BIRTH- DAY OF GEORGE MEREDITH A HEALTH, a ringing health, unto the king ** ^ Of all our hearts to-day ! But what proud song Should follow on the thought, nor do him wrong? Except the sea were harp, each mirthful string The lovely lightning of the nights of Spring, And Dawn the lonely listener, glad and grave With colors of the sea-shell and the wave In brightening eye and cheek, there is none to sing! Drink to him, as men upon an Alpine peak Brim one immortal cup of crimson wine, And into it drop one pure cold crust of snow, Then hold it up, too rapturously to speak And drink to the mountains, line on glittering line, Surging away into the sunset-glow. IN MEMORY OF SWINBURNE A PRIL from shore to shore, from sea to sea, ^ ^ April in heaven and on the springing spray Buoyant with birds that sing to welcome May And April in those eyes that mourn for thee: " This is my singing month ; my hawthorn tree Burgeons once more," we seemed to hear thee say, " This is my singing month : my fingers stray Over the lute. What shall the music be ?" And April answered with too great a song For mortal lips to sing or hearts to hear, Heard only of that high invisible throng For whom thy song makes April all the year! "My singing month, what bringest thou?" Her breath Swooned with all music, and she answered " Death." Ah, but on earth, " can'st thou, too, die," Low she whispers, " lover of mine? " IN MEMORY OF SWINBURNE April, queen over earth and sky Whispers, her trembling lashes shine : " Wings of the sea, good-bye, good-bye, Down to the dim sea-line." , Home to the heart of thine old-world lover, Home to thy " fair green-girdled " sea! There shall thy soul with the sea-birds hover, Free of the deep as their wings are free; Free, for the grave-flowers only cover This, the dark cage of thee. Thee, the storm-bird, nightingale-souled, Brother of Sappho, the seas reclaim ! Age upon age have the great waves rolled Mad with her music, exultant, aflame ; Thee, thee too, shall their glory enfold, Lit with thy snow-winged fame. Back, thro' the years, fleets the sea-bird's wing: Sappho, of old time, once, ah, hark! So did he love her of old and sing! Listen, he flies to her, back thro' the dark! Sappho, of old time, once. . . . Yea, Spring Cajls him home to her, hark ! IN MEMORY OF SWINBURNE Sappho, long since, in the years far sped, Sappho, I loved thee! Did I not seem Fosterling only of earth? I have fled, Fled to thee, sister. Time is a dream ! Shelley is here with us ! Death lies dead ! Ah, how the bright waves gleam. Wide was the cage-door, idly swinging ; April touched me and whispered, " come." Out and away to the great deep winging, Sister, I flashed to thee over the foam, Out to the sea of Eternity, singing " Mother, thy child comes home." Ah, but how shall we welcome May, Here where the wing of song droops low, Here by the last green swinging spray Brushed by the sea-bird's wings of snow, We that gazed on his glorious way Out where the great winds blow ? Here upon earth " canst thou, too, die, Lover of life and lover of mine? " April, conquering earth and sky, Whispers, her trembling lashes shine: " Wings of the sea, good-bye, good-bye, Down to the dim sea-line" ON THE DEATH OF FRANCIS THOMPSON HOW grandly glow the bays Purpureally enwound With those rich thorns, the brows How infinitely crowned That now thro' Death's dark house Have passed with royal gaze: Purpureally enwound How grandly glow the bays. Sweet, sweet and three-fold sweet, Pulsing with three-fold pain, Where the lark fails of flight Soared the celestial strain ; Beyond the sapphire height Flew the gold-winged feet, Beautiful, pierced with pain, Sweet, sweet and three-fold sweet; [ 116] ON THE DEATH OF FRANCIS THOMPSON ra And where Is not and Is Are wed in one sweet Name, And the world's rootless vine With dew of stars a-flame Laughs, from those deep divine Impossibilities, Our reason all to shame This cannot be, but is; IV Into the Vast, the Deep Beyond all mortal sight, The Nothingness that conceived The worlds of day and night, The Nothingness that heaved Pure sides in virgin sleep, Brought out of Darkness, light; And man from out the Deep. Into that Mystery Let not thine hand be thrust : Nothingness is a world Thy science well may trust ON THE DEATH OF FRANCIS THOMPSON But lo, a leaf unfurled, Nay, a cry mocking thee From the first grain of dust I am, yet cannot be! VI Adventuring un-afraid Into that last deep shrine, Must not the child-heart see Its deepest symbol shine, The world's Birth-mystery, Whereto the suns are shade ? Lo, the white breast divine The Holy Mother-maid! VII How miss that Sacrifice That cross of Yea and Nay That paradox of heaven Whose palms point either way, Through each a nail being driven That the arms out-span the skies And our earth-dust this day Out-sweeten Paradise. [ 118] ON THE DEATH OF FRANCIS THOMPSON vin i IWe part the seamless robe, Our wisdom would divide The raiment of the King, Our spear is in His side, Even while the angels sing Around our perishing globe, Lo, Death re-knits in pride The seamless purple robe. IX How grandly glow the bays Purpureally enwound With those rich thorns, the brows How infinitely crowned That now thro' Death's dark house Have passed with royal gaze: Purpureally enwound How grandly glow the bays. IN MEMORY OF MEREDITH T T IGH on the mountains, who stands proudly, clad * with the light of May, Rich as the dawn, deep-hearted as night, diamond- bright as day, Who, while the slopes of the beautiful valley throb with our muffled tread Who, with the hill-flowers wound in her tresses, wel- comes our deathless dead ? n Is it not she whom he sought so long thro' the high lawns dewy and sweet, Up thro' the crags and the glittering snows faint- flushed with her rosy feet, Is it not she the queen of our night crowned by the unseen sun, Artemis, she that can see the light, when light upon earth is none? in Huntress, queen of the dark of the world (no darker at night than noon) [ 120 ] Beauty immortal and undefiled, the Eternal sun's white moon, Only by thee and thy silver shafts for a flash can our hearts discern, Pierced to the quick, the love, the love that still thro' the dark doth yearn. IV What to his soul were the hill-flowers, what the gold at the break of day Shot thro' the red-stemmed firs to the lake where the swimmer clove his way, What were the quivering harmonies showered from the heaven-tossed heart of the lark, Artemis, Huntress, what were these but thy keen shafts cleaving the dark? Frost of the hedge-rows, flash of the jasmine, sparkle of dew on the leaf, Seas lit wide by the summer lightning, shafts from thy diamond sheaf, Deeply they pierced him, deeply he loved thee, now has he found thy soul, Artemis, thine, in this bridal peal, where we hear but the death-bell toll. A FRIEND OF CARLYLE T\/r ASTER of arts, for all those years *-! Among these lonely Devon moors, (Lonely to you, but smiles and tears Have crowded thro' my school-house doors) These garden walls would hardly suit A man on great ambitions bent, And yet my trees have borne some fruit Of grateful, ay and proud content. II Drinking the sunlight as Tie spoke, Hale in September as in May, Across his clear frank face there broke A smile that seemed to praise and pray, Half rapture, half adoring love, And steadfast as the soul of truth Which, though the thick gray gleamed above, Brightened his eyes with deeper youth. in For think, he said, each year a score Of lives commended to my trust, [ 122 ] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE ('Tis never less and sometimes more) It leaves the mind no time to rust : They come just when for good or ill My teaching kindles or controls. From first to last my striving will Has helped to train ten hundred souls. IV Forgive me, Thou who knowest all The barren and the unhelpful days ; For still to Thee my heart would call Before I went my morning ways, Or turned my pencilled old Carlyle, My guide thro' doubts of long ago, And thought, to-day some word or smile May teach them more than aught I know. For I did doubt; though all my youth To one great ministry aspired, I saw the fiery sword of truth Guarding the portal I desired. The God whom Science could destroy I slowly followed to his tomb, Then turned, alone, a friendless boy To wrestle with the o'erwhelming gloom. [ 123 ] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE VI For truth, for truth I strove, and yet Could I forget the tender pride Which those who loved me had so set On this my work, or cast aside The years of labor (spent to learn That all the learning was a dream) Thus on the very verge to turn And meet Love's eyes with tears a-gleam ? VII And sacrifices had been made To give me ... Well, the tale is old : But even your modern men are swayed By fears on one great subject " gold " ; And so, you'll understand, it meant My " whole career," and check your smile, When, having lost my God, I went To my great hero-soul Carlyle. VIII They chatter of him ? Let that be! I'd only seen him once: he stood Crowned by his university, Wearing the gorgeous robes and hood. [ 124 ] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE Beneath him surged a cheering crowd Of young men straining tow'rds his face. A little flushed, a little proud, He took his throne in that high place. IX O, "what a drama undiscerned Swelled to its climax in that hour, Where he the poor Scotch peasant burned Before us with a seraph's power, A nation's laurels on his brow While, far away, Death's levelled dart Unseen, unfeared, undreamed, e'en now Struck at his heart's beloved heart. We clamored for our king to speak! He rose. A breathless silence fell. The flush of fame was on his cheek. He bore that regal splendor well, Then suddenly cast the robes aside ! Our hearts burned and our eyes grew wet: He spoke as at his own hearth-side, But O, we knew him kinglier yet. [ 125 ] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE XI Still through and through me thrills the fire, Unquenched by all the following years, Which bade us trust the truth; aspire, And blinded us with god-like tears ! That face had suffered in the same Dark night, through which I still must grope; But, lit with some transfiguring flame, He closed We bid you be of hope. XII And so I went to him. He heard, O, kindly as a father might; And, here and there, some burning word Flashed sudden lightnings thro' my night : And, as he spoke, I felt and saw The night was only where I lay In one dark gulf, and truth's own law Would lead me tow'rds the perfect day. xm " As from the blind seed springs the flower, As from the acorn soars the oak, From darkness into heaven may tower The soul of man," he gently spoke, [ 126] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE " From Time into the Eternal Love ! Rally the might within thee, trust In truth, and those broad heavens above, They will not doom thee to the dust." XIV Troubles enough there were indeed Before I caught the first great gleam. It came when I was most in need And, like one waking from a dream, To a new heaven and a new earth I saw and, kneeling, wept for joy Death bringing heavenly life to birth In bliss which nothing can destroy. XV It was the night my loved one died, The year our child, who lives, was born! All night upon my knees I cried To God to change His world ere morn, " Roll back Thy stars, bring back my dead, And take what else Thou wilt away ; But bring not back to me," I said, " The hopeless horror of the day." [ 127 ] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE XVI I could not live, I could not die, My fate was not in my control : I only knew that this wild cry Would, with the dawn, destroy my soul, If, with that dawn, our rutted road, The same dark trees, the same dark farms Should mock me ! " God, too great Thy load ! " Then round me swept the Eternal arms. XVII That once, if never in my life Again, I felt them, as the dawn Came, with a deeper wonder rife Than aught in that old world withdrawn: I felt His love around me furled, His pity, gentle as the dew, And plucked the blind aside. The world Was changed. His earth was made anew. XVIII A pure white mantle blotted out The world I used to know: There was no scarlet in the sky Or on the hills below, [ 128 ] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE Gently as mercy out of heaven Came down the healing snow. XIX The trees that were so dark and bare Stood up in radiant white, And the road forgot its furrowed care As day forgets the night, And the new heavens and the new earth Lay robed in dazzling light. xx And every flake that fell from heaven Was like an angel's kiss, Or a feather fluttering from the wings Of some dear soul in bliss Who gently leaned from that bright world To soothe the pain of this. XXI Oft had I felt for some brief flash The heavenly secret glow In sunsets, traced some hieroglyph In Nature flowers that blow And perish; tender, climbing boughs; The stars and then 'twould go. [ 129 ] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE XXII But here I felt within my soul, Clear as on field and tree, The falling of the heavenly snow, A twofold mystery, And one was meant to bless the world f And one was meant for me. XXIII And at the grave-side of my love Once more thro' Nature did I see Unspeakable, O heaven above, What shining from Eternity! They lowered the coffin to its place, And o'er the grave the great sun smiled Full in that lifted, laughing face, There, in the nurse's arms, the child. XXIV Oh, what are words or waves of the sea Save for the Power that through them shines, The Soul that gives them unity . And sends its glory through the lines? Will art nay, science deem it vain, That world-wide flash whereby I knew [ UO] A FRIEND OF CARLYLE His gentle touch in sun and rain, His mercy gliding in the dew? XXV Since then, the Power behind the world Has never left me, and I find In every April fern unfurled Some vision of the Eternal mind: The clouds affirm their Charioteer, The hills demand His higher throne, And year cries out to fleeting year The Everlasting claims His own. XXVI The God I worshipped when a boy I lost; and now that fifty years Have passed with all they could destroy Of all my hopes and dreams and fears, Full fifty years, in this dear place Where all those generations trod, Why (and heaven lit his lifted face) Now, there seems nothing else but God. THE TESTIMONY OF ART A S earth, sad earth, thrusts many a gloomy cape * * Into the sea's bright color and living glee, So do we strive to embay that mystery Which earthly hands must ever let escape; The Word we seek for is the golden shape That shall enshrine the Soul we cannot see, A temporal chalice of Eternity Purple with beating blood of the hallowed grape. Once was it wine and sacramental bread Whereby we knew the power that through Him smiled When, in one still small utterance, He hurled The Eternities beneath His feet and said With lips, O meek as any little child, Be of good cheer, I have overcome the world. [ 132] THE SCHOLARS XT 7 HERE is the scholar whose clear mind can hold The floral text of one sweet April mead ? The flowing lines, which few can spell indeed, Though most will note the scarlet and the gold Around the flourishing capitals grandly scrolled; But ah, the subtle cadences that need The lover's heart, the lover's heart to read, And ah, the songs unsung, the tales un-told. Poor fools-capped scholars grammar keeps us close, The primers thrall us, and our eyes grow dim : When will old Master Science hear the call, Bid us run free with life in every limb To breathe the poems and hear the last red rose Gossiping over God's gray garden-wall? [ 133] RESURRECTION more I hear the everlasting sea Breathing beneath the mountain's fragrant breast, Come unto Me, come unto Me, And I will give you rest. We have destroyed the Temple and in three days He hath rebuilt it all things are made new : And hark what wild throats pour His praise Beneath the boundless blue. We plucked down all His altars, cried aloud And gashed ourselves for little gods of clay! Yon floating cloud was but a cloud, The May no more than May. We plucked down all His altars, left not one Save where, perchance (and ah, the joy was fleet), We laid our garlands in the sun At the white Sea-born's feet. We plucked down all His altars, not to make The small praise greater, but the great praise less, [ 134] RESURRECTION We sealed all fountains where the soul could slake Its thirst and weariness. " Love " was too small, too human to be found In that transcendent source whence love was born: We talked of " forces " : heaven was crowned With philosophic thorn. " Your God is in your image," we cried, but O, 'Twas only man's own deepest heart ye gave, Knowing that He transcended all ye know, While we we dug His grave. Denied Him even the crown on our own brow, E'en these poor symbols of His loftier reign, Levelled His Temple with the dust, and now He is risen, He is risen again, Risen, like this resurrection of the year, This grand ascension of the choral spring, Which those harp-crowded heavens bend to hear And meet upon the wing. " He is dead," we cried, and even amid that gloom The wintry veil was rent ! The new-born day I 135 ] BESURRECTION Showed us the Angel seated in the tomb And the stone rolled away. It is the hour! We challenge heaven above Now, to deny our slight ephemeral breath Joy, anguish, and that everlasting love Which triumphs over death. [136] A JAPANESE LOVE-SONG THE young moon is white, But the willows are blue: Your small lips are red, But the great clouds are gray: The waves are so many That whisper to you; But my love is only One flight of spray. The bright drops are many, The dark wave is one: The dark wave subsides, And the bright sea remains! And wherever, O singing Maid, you may run, You are one with the world For all your pains. Ill Though the great skies are dark, And your small feet are white, [ 137 ] A JAPANESE LOVE-SONG Though your wide eyes are blue And the closed poppies red, Tho' the kisses are many That color the night, They are linked like pearls On one golden thread. IV iWere the gray clouds not made For the red of your mouth; The ages for flight Of the butterfly years; The sweet of the peach For the pale lips of drouth, The sunlight of smiles For the t shadow of tears? V Love, Love is the thread That has pierced them with bliss! All their hues are but notes In one world-wide tune: Lips, willows, and waves, We are one as we kiss, And your face and the flowers Faint away in the moon. C 138 ] THE TWO PAINTERS (A TALE OF OLD JAPAN.) VT'OICHI TENKO, the painter, Dwelt by the purple sea, Painting the peacock islands Under his willow-tree: Also in temples he painted Dragons of old Japan, With a child to look at the pictures Little O Kimi San. Kimi, the child of his brother, Bright as the moon in May, White as a lotus lily, Pink as a plum-tree spray, Linking her soft arm round him Sang to his heart for an hour, Kissed him with ripples of laughter And lips of the cherry flower. Child of the old pearl-fisher Lost in his junk at sea, Kimi was loved of Tenko As his own child might be, [ 139 ] THE TWO PAINTERS Yoichi Tenko the painter, Wrinkled and gray and old, Teacher of many disciples That paid for his dreams with gold. H Peonies, peonies crowned the May! Clad in blue and white array Came Sawara to the school .Under the silvery willow-tree, All to learn of Tenko! Riding on a milk-white mule, Young and poor and proud was he, Lissom as a cherry spray (Peonies, peonies, crowned the day!) And he rode the golden way To the school of Tenko. Swift to learn, beneath his hand Soon he watched his wonderland Growing cloud by magic cloud, Under the silvery willow-tree In the school of Tenko : Kimi watched him, young and proud, Painting by the purple sea, Lying on the golden sand [ 140 ] THE TWO PAINTERS Watched his golden wings expand! (None but Love will understand All she hid from Tenko.) He could paint her tree and flower, See and spray and wizard's tower, With one stroke, now hard, now soft, Under the silvery willow-tree In the school of Tenko: He could fling a bird aloft, Splash a dragon in the sea, Crown a princess in her bower, With one stroke of magic power; And she watched him, hour by hour, In the school of Tenko. Yoichi Tenko, wondering, scanned All the work of that young hand, Gazed his kakemonos o'er, Under the silvery willow-tree In the school of Tenko : " I can teach you nothing more, Thought or craft or mystery; Let your golden wings expand, They will shadow half the land, All the world's at your command, Come no more to Tenko." THE TWO PAINTERS Lying on the golden sand, Kimi watched his wings expand; Wept. He could not understand Why she wept, said Tenko. Ill So, in her blue kimono, Pale as the sickle moon Glimmered thro' soft plum-branches Blue in the dusk of June, Stole she, willing and waning, Frightened and unafraid, " Take me with you, Sawara, Over the sea," she said. Small and sadly beseeching, Under the willow-tree, Glimmered her face like a foanvflake Drifting over the sea: Pale as a drifting blossom, Lifted her face to his eyes: Slowly he gathered and held her Under the drifting skies. Poor little face cast backward, Better to see his own, [ 142 ] THE TWO PAINTERS Earth and heaven went past them Drifting: they two, alone Stood, immortal. He whispered " Nothing can part us two ! " Backward her sad little face went Drifting, and dreamed it true. " Others are happy," she murmured, "Maidens and men I have seen; You are my king, Sawara, O, let me be your queen! If I am all too lowly," Sadly she strove to smile, " Let me follow your footsteps, Your slave for a little while." Surely, he thought, I have painted Nothing so fair as this Moonlit almond blossom Sweet to fold and kiss, Brow that is filled with music, Shell of a faery sea, Eyes like the holy violets Brimmed with dew for me. " Wait for Sawara," he whispered, " Does not his whole heart yearn [ 143 ] THE TWO PAINTERS Now to his moon-bright maiden? Wait, for he will return Rich as the wave on the moon's path Rushing to claim his bride ! " So they plighted their promise, And the ebbing sea-wave sighed. IV Moon and flower and butterfly, Earth and heaven went drifting by, Three long years while Kimi dreamed Under the silvery willow-tree In the school of Tenko, Steadfast while the whole world streamed Past her tow'rds Eternity; Steadfast till with one great cry, Ringing to the gods on high, Golden wings should blind the sky And bring him back to Tenko. Three long years and nought to say " Sweet, I come the golden way, Riding royally to the school Under the silvery willow-tree Claim my bride of Tenko; THE TWO PAINTERS Silver bells on a milk-white mule, Rose-red sails on an emerald sea! "... Kimi sometimes went to pray In the temple nigh the bay, Dreamed all night and gazed all day Over the sea from Tenko. Far away his growing fame Lit the clouds. No message came From the sky, whereon she gazed Under the silvery willow-tree Far away from Tenko! Small white hands in the temple raised Pleaded with the Mystery, " Stick of incense in the flame, Though my love forget my name, Help him, bless him, all the same, And . . . bring him back to Tenko ! " Rose-white temple nigh the bay, Hush! for Kimi comes to pray, Dream all night and gaze all day Over the sea from Tenko. [ 145 ] THE TWO PAINTERS So, when the rich young merchant Showed him his bags of gold, Yoichi Tenko, the painter, Gave him her hand to hold, Said, " You shall wed him, O Kimi: " Softly he lied and smiled " Yea, for Sowar a is wedded! Let him not mock you, child" Dumbly she turned and left them, Never a word or cry Broke from her lips' gray petals Under the drifting sky: Down to the spray and the rainbows, Where she had watched him of old Painting the rose-red islands, Painting the sand's wet gold, Down to their dreams of the sunset, Frail as a flower's white ghost, Lonely and lost she wandered Down to the darkening coast; Lost in the drifting midnight, Weeping, desolate, blind. [ 146 ] THE TWO PAINTERS Many went out to seek her : Never a heart could find. Yoichi Tenko, the painter, Plucked from his willow-tree Two big paper lanterns And ran to the brink of the sea; Over his head he held them, Crying, and only heard, Somewhere, out in the darkness, The cry of a wandering bird. VI Peonies, peonies thronged the May When in royal-rich array Came Sawara to the school Under the silvery willow-tree To the school of Tenko! Silver bells on a milk-white mule, Rose- red sails on an emerald sea! Over the bloom of the cherry spray, Peonies, peonies dimmed the day; And he rode the royal way Back to Yoichi Tenko. [ 147 ] THE TWO PAINTERS Yoichi Tenko, half afraid, Whispered, " Wed some other maid ; Kimi left me all alone Under the silvery willow-tree, Left me," whispered Tenko, " Kimi had a heart of stone ! " "Kimi, Kimi? Who is she? Kimi? Ah the child that played Round the willow-tree. She prayed Often; and, whate'er I said, She believed it, Tenko." He had come to paint anew Those dim isles of rose and blue, For a palace far away, Under the silvery willow-tree So he said to Tenko ; And he painted, day by day, Golden visions of the sea. No, he had not come to woo; Yet, had Kimi proven true, Doubtless he had loved her too, Hardly less than Tenko. Since the thought was in his head, He would make his choice and wed ; And a lovely maid he chose [ 148 ] THE TWO PAINTERS Under the silvery willow-tree. " Fairer far," said Tenko. " Kimi had a twisted nose, And a foot too small, for me, And her face was dull as lead ! " " Nay, a flower, be it white or red, Is a flower," Sawara said ! " So it is," said Tenko. VII Great Sawara, the painter, Sought, on a day of days, One of the peacock islands Out in the sunset haze : Rose-red sails on the water Carried him quickly nigh; There would he paint him a wonder, Worthy of Hokusai. Lo, as he leapt o'er the creaming Roses of faery foam, Out of the green-lipped caverns Under the isle's blue dome, White as a drifting snow-flake, White as the moon's white flame, [ H9 ] THE TWO PAINTERS White as a ghost from the darkness, Little O Kimi came. " Long I have waited, Sawara, Here in our sunset isle, Sawara, Sawara, Sawara, Look on me once, and smile; Face I have watched so long for, Hands I have longed to hold, Sawara, Sawara, Sawara, Why is your heart so cold ? " Surely, he thought, I have painted Nothing so fair as this Moonlit almond blossom Sweet to fold and kiss. . . . "Kimi," he said, " I am wedded! Hush, for it could not be ! " " Kiss me one kiss," she whispered, " Me also, even me." Small and terribly drifting Backward, her sad white face Lifted up to Sawara Once, in that lonely place, [ ISO] THE TWO PAINTERS White as a drifting blossom Under his wondering eyes, Slowly he gathered and held her Under the drifting skies. " Others are happy," she whispered, " Maidens and men I have seen : Be happy, be happy, Sawara! The other shall be your queen! Kiss me one kiss for parting." Trembling she lifted her head, Then like a broken blossom It fell on his arm. She was dead. VIII Much impressed, Sawara straight (Though the hour was growing late) Made a sketch of Kimi lying By the lonely, sighing sea, Brought it back to Tenko. Tenko looked it over crying (Under the silvery willow-tree). " You have burst the golden gate ! You have conquered Time and Fate ! Hokusai is not so great ! This is art," said Tenko ! THE ENCHANTED ISLAND T REMEMBER * a breath, a breath Blown thro' the rosy gates of birth, A morning freshness not of the earth But cool and strange and lovely as death In Paradise, in Paradise, When, all to suffer the old sweet pain Closing his immortal eyes Wonder-wild an angel lies With wings of rainbow-tinctured grain Withering till ah, wonder-wild, Here on the dawning earth again He wakes, a little child. II I remember a gleam, a gleam Of sparkling waves and warm blue sky Far away and long ago, Or ever I knew that youth could die ; And out of the dawn, the dawn, the dawn, [ 152 ] THE ENCHANTED ISLAND Into the unknown life we sailed As out of sleep into a dream, And, as with elfin cables drawn In dusk of purple over the glowing Wrinkled measureless emerald sea, The light cloud shadows larger far Than the sweet shapes which drew them on, Fairily delicate shadows flowing Between us and the morning star Chased us all a summer's day, And our sail like a dew-lit blossom shone Till, over a rainbow haze of spray That arched a reef of surf like snow Far away and long ago We saw the sky-line rosily engrailed With tufted peaks above a smooth lagoon Which growing, growing, growing as we sailed Curved all around them like a crescent moon ; And then we saw the purple-shadowed creeks, The feathery palms, the gleaming golden streaks Of sand, and nearer yet, like jewels of fire Streaming between the boughs, or floating higher Like tiny sunset-clouds in noon-day skies, The birds of Paradise. [ 153 ] THE ENCHANTED ISLAND in The island floated in the air, Its image floated in the sea: Which was the shadow? Both were fair: Like sister souls they seemed to be; And one was dreaming and asleep, And one bent down from Paradise To kiss with radiance in the deep The darkling lips and eyes. And, mingling softly in their dreams, That holy kiss of sea and sky Transfused the shadows and the gleams Of Time and of Eternity: The dusky face looked up and gave To heaven its golden shadowed calm ; The face of light fulfilled the wave With blissful wings and fans of palm. Above, the tufted rosy peaks That melted in the warm blue skies, Below, the purple-shadowed creeks That glassed the birds of Paradise A bridal knot, it hung in heaven ; And, all around, the still lagoon [ 154] THE ENCHANTED ISLAND From bloom of dawn to blush of even Curved like a crescent moon. And there we wandered evermore Thro' boyhood's everlasting years, Listening the murmur of the shore As one that lifts a shell and hears The murmur of forgotten seas Around some lost Broceliande, The sigh of sweet Eternities That turn the world to fairy-land, That turned our isle to a single pearl Glowing in measureless waves of wine! Above, below, the clouds would curl, Above, below, the stars would shine In sky and sea. We hung in heaven! Time and space were but elfin-sweet Rock-bound pools for the dawn and even To wade with their rosy feet. Our pirate cavern faced the West : We closed its door with screens of palm, While some went out to seek the nest Wherein the Phoenix, breathing balm, Burns and dies to live for ever (How should we dream we lived to die?) [ 155 ] THE ENCHANTED ISLAND And some would fish in the purple river That thro' the hills brought down the sky. And some would dive in the lagoon Like sunbeams, and all round our isle Swim thro' the lovely crescent moon, Glimpsing, for breathless mile on mile, The wild sea-woods that bloomed below, The rainbow fish, the coral cave Where vanishing swift as melting snow A mermaid's arm would wave. Then, dashing shoreward thro' the spray On sun-lit sands they cast them down, Or in the white sea-daisies lay With sun-stained bodies rosy-brown, Content to watch the foam-bows flee Across the shelving reefs and bars, With wild eyes gazing out to sea Like happy haunted stars. IV And O, the wild sea-maiden Drifting through the starlit air, With white arms blossom-laden And the sea-scents in her hair: [ 156 ] THE ENCHANTED ISLAND Sometimes we heard her singing The midnight forest through, Or saw a soft hand flinging Blossoms drenched with starry dew Into the dreaming purple cave ; And, sometimes, far and far away Beheld across the glooming wave Beyond the dark lagoon, Beyond the silvery foaming bar, The black bright rock whereon she lay Like a honey-colored star Singing to the breathless moon Singing in the silent night Till the stars for sheer delight Closed their eyes, and drowsy birds On the midmost forest spray Took their heads from out their wings, Thinking it is Ariel sings And we must catch the witching words And sing them o'er by day. And then, there came a breath, a breath Cool and strange and dark as death, A stealing shadow, not of the earth [ 157 ] THE ENCHANTED ISLAND But fresh and wonder-wild as birth. I know not when the hour began That changed the child's heart in the man, Or when the colors began to wane, But all our roseate island lay Stricken, as when an angel dies With wings of rainbow-tinctured grain Withering, and his radiant eyes Closing. Pitiless walls of gray Gathered around us, a growing tomb From which it seemed not death or doom Could roll the stone away. VI Yet I remember a gleam, a gleam, (Or ever I dreamed that youth could die!) Of sparkling waves and warm blue sky As out of sleep into a dream, Wonder-wild for the old sweet pain, We sailed into that unknown sea Through the gates of Eternity. Peacefully close your mortal eyes, For ye shall wake to it again In Paradise, in Paradise. [ 158 ] UNITY T TEART of my heart, the world is young; * -* Love lies hidden in every rose! Every song that the skylark sung Once, we thought, must come to a close: Now we know the spirit of song, Song that is merged in the chant of the whole, Hand in hand as we wander along, What should we doubt of the years that roll? II Heart of my heart, we can not die! Love triumphant in flower and tree, Every life that laughs at the sky Tells us nothing can cease to be: One, we are one with a song to-day, One with the clover that scents the wold, One with the Unknown, far away, One with the stars, when earth grows old, [ 159 ] UNITY HI Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind, One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea, One in many, O broken and blind, One as the waves are at one with the sea! Ay! when life seems scattered apart, Darkens, ends as a tale that is told, One, we are one, O heart of my heart, One, still one, while the world grows old. [ 160] THE HILL-FLOWER T7 1 is my faith that every flower * Enjoys the air it breathes So was it sung one golden hour Among the woodbine wreaths; And yet, though wet with living dew, The song seemed far more sweet than true. Blind creatures of the sun and air I dreamed it but a dream That, like Narcissus, would confer With self in every stream, And to the leaves and boughs impart The tremors of a human heart. To-day a golden pinion stirred The world's Bethesda pool, And I believed the song I heard Nor put my heart to school ; And through the rainbows of the dream I saw the gates of Eden gleam. The rain had ceased. The great hills rolled In silence to the deep: [ 161 ] THE HILL-FLOWER The gorse in waves of green and gold Perfumed their lonely sleep; And, at my feet, one elfin flower Drooped, blind with glories of the shower. I stooped a giant from the sky Above its piteous shield, And, suddenly, the dream went by, And there was heaven revealed ! I stooped to pluck it ; but my hand Paused, mid-way, o'er its fairyland. Not of mine own was that strange voice, "Pluck tear a star from heaven!" Mine only was the awful choice To scoff and be forgiven Or hear the very grass I trod Whispering the gentle thoughts of God. I know not if the hill-flower's place Beneath that mighty sky, Its lonely and aspiring grace Its beauty born to die Touched me, I know it seemed to be Cherished by all Eternity. [ 162 ] THE HILL-FLOWER Man, doomed to crush at every stride A hundred lives like this, Which by their weakness were allied, If by naught else, to his, Can only for a flash discern What passion through the whole doth yearn. Not into words can I distill The pity or the pain Which hallowing all that lonely hill Cried out " refrain, refrain," Then breathed from earth and sky and sea, Herein you did it unto Me. Somewhile that hill was heaven's own breast, The flower its joy and grief, Hugged close and fostered and caressed In every brief bright leaf: And, ere I went thro' sun and dew, I leant and gently touched it, too. L 163 ] ACTION "Who stood beside the naked Swift-footed And bound his forehead with Proserpine's hair." BROWNING (Pauline). T IGHT of beauty, O, " perfect in whiteness," ^^ Softly suffused thro' the world's dark shrouds, Kindling them all as they pass by thy brightness, Hills, men, cities, a pageant of clouds, Thou to whom Life and Time surrender All earth's forms as to heaven's deep care, Who shall pierce to thy naked splendor, Bind his brows with thy hair? II Swift thro' the sprays when Spring grew bolder Young Actaeon swept to the chase ! Golden the fawn-skin, back from the shoulder Flowing, set free the limbs' lithe grace, Muscles of satin that rippled like sunny Streams, a hunter, a young athlete, [ 164 ] ACTION Scattering dews and crushing out honey Under his sandalled feet. in Sunset softened the crags of the mountain, Silence melted the hunter's heart, Only the sob of a falling fountain Pulsed in a deep ravine apart: All the forest seemed waiting breathless, Eager to whisper the dying day Some rich word that should utter the deathless Secret of youth and May. IV Softlier now and on tiptoe lightly Down the ravine that his keen eye scanned, Fair as the sun-god, brandishing brightly One sharp spear of the moon in his hand, Stole he! Ah, did the oak-wood ponder Youth's glad dream in its heart of gloom? Dryad or fawn was it started yonder? Ah, what whisper of doom? Gold, thro' the fringe of the ferns that listened, Shone the soul of the wood's deep dream, [ 165 ] ACTJEON One bright glade and a pool that glistened Full in the face of the sun's last gleam, Gold in the heart of a violet dingle ! Young Actaeon, beware! beware! Who shall track, while the pulses tingle, Spring to her woodland lair? VI See, at his feet, what mystical quiver, Maiden's girdle and robe of snow, Tossed aside by the green glen-river Ere she bathed in the pool below? All the fragrance of April meets him Full in the face with its young sweet breath ; Yet, as he steals to the glade, there greets him - Hush, what whisper of death? VII Lo, in the violets, lazily dreaming, Young Diana, the huntress, lies: One white side thro' the violets gleaming Heaves and sinks with her golden sighs, One white breast like a diamond crownet Couched in a velvet casket glows, One white arm, tho' the violets drown it, Thrills their purple with rose. [ 166] ACTION vra Buried in fragrance, the half-moon flashes, Beautiful, clouded, from head to heel: One white foot in the warm wave plashes, Violets tremble and half reveal, Half conceal, as they kiss, the slender Slope and curve of her sleeping limbs: Violets bury one half the splendor; Still, as thro' heaven, she swims. IX Cold as the white rose waking at daybreak Lifts the light of her lovely face, Poised on an arm she watches the spray break Over the slim white ankle's grace, Watches the wave that sleeplessly tosses Kissing the pure foot's pink sea-shells, Watches the long-leaved heaven-dark mosses Drowning their star-bright bells. Swift as the Spring where the South has brightened Earth with bloom in one passionate night, Swift as the violet heavens had lightened, - Swift to perfection, blinding, white, [ 167] ACTVEON Dian arose: and Actaeon saw her, Only he since the world began! Only in dreams could Endymion draw her Down to the heart of man. XI Fair as the dawn upon Himalaya Anger flashed from her cheek's pure rose, Alpine peaks at the passage of Maia Flushed not fair as her breasts' white snows. Ah, fair form of the heaven's completeness, Who shall sing thee or who shall say Whence that " high perfection of sweetness," Perfect to save or slay? XII Perfect in beauty, beauty the portal Here on earth to the world's deep shrine, Beauty hidden in all things mortal, Who shall mingle his eyes with thine? Thou, to whom Life and Death surrender All earth's forms as to heaven's deep care, Who shall pierce to thy naked splendor, Bind his brows with thy hair? [ 168] ACTION XIII Beauty, perfect in blinding whiteness. Softly suffused thro' the world's dark shrouds, Kindling them all as they pass by her brightness, Hills, men, cities, a pageant of clouds, She, the unchanging, shepherds their changes. Bids them mingle and form and flow, Flowers and flocks and the great hill-ranges Follow her cry and go. XIV Swift as the sweet June lightning flashes, Down she stoops to the purpling pool, Sudden and swift her white hand dashes Rainbow mists in his eyes! "Ah, fool! Hunter," she cries to the young Actaeon, " Change to the hunted, rise and fly, Swift ere the wild pack utter its paean, Swift for thy hounds draw nigh ! " XV Lo, as he trembles, the greenwood branches Dusk his brows with their antlered pride ! Lo, as a stag thrown back on its haunches Quivers, with velvet nostrils wide, [ 169 ] ACTION Lo, he changes! The soft fur darkens Down to the fetlock's lifted fear ! Hounds are baying ! he snuffs and hearkens, " Fly, for the stag is here ! " XVI Swift he leapt thro' the ferns, Actaeon, Young Actaeon, the lordly stag: Full and mellow the deep-mouthed paean Swelled behind him from crag to crag: Well he remembered that sweet throat leading, Wild with terror he raced and strained, Swept thro' the thorns with soft flanks bleeding; Ever they gained and gained! XVII Death, like a darkling huntsman holloed Swift, Actaeon! desire and shame Leading the pack of the passions followed, Red jaws frothing with white-hot flame, Volleying out of the glen, they leapt up Snapping, fell short of the foam-flecked thighs, Inch by terrible inch they crept up, Shadows with blood-shot eyes. [ 170 ] ACTION xvm Still with his great heart bursting asunder, Still thro' the night he struggled and bled ; Suddenly round him the pack's low thunder Surged, the hounds that his own hand fed Fastened in his throat, with red jaws drinking Deep ! for a moment his antlered pride Soared o'er their passionate seas, then, sinking, Fell for the fangs to divide. XIX Light of beauty, O, perfect in whiteness, Softly suffused thro' the years' dark veils, Kindling them all as they pass by her brightness, Filling our hearts with her old-world tales, She, the unchanging, shepherds their changes, Bids them mingle and form and flow, Flowers and flocks and the great hill-ranges Follow her cry and go. XX Still, in the violets, lazily dreaming Young Diana, the huntress, lies: One white side thro' the violets gleaming Heaves and sinks with her golden sighs; ACTION One white breast like a diamond crownet Couched in a velvet casket glows, One white arm, tho' the violets drown it, Thrills their purple with rose. [ 172 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST (A EUROPEAN NIGHTMARE.) TO celebrate the ascent of man, one gorgeous night Lucifer gave a feast. Its world-bewildering light Danced in Belshazzar's tomb, and the old kings dead and gone Felt their dust creep to jewels in crumbling Babylon. Two nations were His guests the top and flower of Time, The fore-front of an age which now had learned to climb 3 The slopes where Newton knelt, the heights that Shake- speare trod, The mountains whence Beethoven rolled the voice of God. Lucifer's feasting-lamps were like the morning stars, But at the board-head shone the blood-red lamp of Mars. League upon glittering league, white front and flabby face [ 173] LUCIFER'S FEAST Bent o'er the groaning board. Twelve brave men droned the grace ; But with instinctive tact, in courtesy to their Host, Omitted God the Son and God the Holy Ghost, And to the God of Battles raised their humble prayers. Then, then, like thunder, all the guests drew up their chairs. By each a drinking-cup, yellow, almost, as gold, (The blue eye-sockets gave the thumbs a good firm hold) Adorned the flowery board. Could even brave men shrink?. Why if the cups were skulls, they had red wine to drink? And had not each a napkin, white and peaked and proud, Waiting to wipe his mouth? A napkin? Nay, a shroud ! This was a giants' feast, on hell's imperial scale. The blades glistened. The shrouds O, in one snowy gale, The pink hands fluttered them out, and spread them on their knees. [ 174] LUCIFER'S FEAST .Who knew what gouts might drop, what filthy flakes of grease, Now that o'er every shoulder, through the coiling steam, Inhuman faces peered, with wolfish eyes a-gleam, And gray-faced vampire Lusts that whinneyed in each ear Hints of the hideous courses? None may name them here? None ? And we may not see ! The distant cauldrons cloak The lava-colored plains with clouds of umber smoke. Nay, by that shrapnel-light, by those wild shooting stars That rip the clouds away with fiercer fire than Mars, They are painted sharp as death. If these can eat and drink Chatter and laugh and rattle their knives, why should we shrink From empty names? We know those ghastly gleams are true: Why should Christ cry again They know not what they do? They, heirs of all the ages, sons of Shakespeare's land, They, brothers of Beethoven, smiling, cultured, bland, Whisper with sidling heads to ghouls with bloody lips. [ 175 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST Each takes upon his plate a small round thing that drips And quivers, a child's heart. Miles on miles The glittering table bends o'er that first course, and smiles ; For, through the wreaths of smoke, the gray Lusts bear aloft The second course, on leaden chargers, large and soft, Bodies of women, steaming in an opal mist, Red-branded here and there where vampire-teeth have kissed, But white as pig's flesh, newly killed, and cleanly dressed, A lemon in each mouth and roses round each breast, Emblems to show how deeply, sweetly satisfied, The breasts, the lips, can sleep, whose children fought and died For what? For country? God, once more Thy shrapnel-light ! Let those dark slaughter-houses burst upon our sight, These kitchens are too clean, too near the tiring room ! Let Thy white shrapnel rend those filthier veils of gloom, Rip the last fogs away and strip the foul thing bare ! [ 176] LUCIFER'S FEAST One lightning-picture see yon bayonet-bristling square Mown down, mown down, mown down, wild swathes of crimson wheat, The white-eyed charge, the blast, the terrible retreat, The blood-greased wheels of cannon thundering into line O'er that red writhe of pain, rent groin and shattered spine, The moaning, faceless face that kissed its child last night, The raw pulp of the heart that beat for love's delight, The heap of twisting bodies, clotted and congealed In one red huddle of anguish on the loathsome field, The seas of obscene slaughter spewing their blood-red yeast, Multitudes pouring out their entrails for the feast, Knowing not why, but dying, they think, for some high cause, Dying for " hearth and home," their flags, their creeds, their laws. Ask of the Bulls and Bears, ask if they understand How both great grappling armies bleed for their own land; For in that faith they die! These hoodwinked thou- sands die [ 177 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST Simply as heroes, gulled by hell's profoundest lie. .Who keeps the slaughter-house? Not these, not these who gain Nought but the sergeant's shilling and the homeless pain! Who pulls the ropes? Not these, who buy their crust of bread With the salt sweat of labor! These but bury their dead Then sweat again for food! Christ, is the hour not come, To send forth one great voice and strike this dark hell dumb, A voice to out-crash the cannon ; one united cry To sweep these wild-beast standards down that stain the sky, To hurl these Lions and Bears and Eagles to their doom, One voice, one heart, one soul, one fire that shall consume. The last red reeking shreds that flicker against the blast And purge the Augean stalls we call " our glorious past"? One voice from dawn and sunset, one almighty voice, Full-throated as the sea ye sons o' the earth, rejoice ! Beneath the all-loving sky, confederate kings ye stand, [ 178 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST Fling open wide the gates o' the world-wide Fatherland. * Poor fools, we dare not dream it! We that pule and whine Of art and science, we, whose great souls leave no shrine Unshattered, we that climb the Sinai Shakespeare trod, The Olivets where Beethoven walked and talked with God, We that have weighed the stars and reined the lightning, we That stare thro' heaven and plant our footsteps in the sea, We whose great souls have risen so far above the creeds That we can jest at Christ and leave Him where He bleeds, A legend of the dark, a tale so false or true That howsoe'er we jest at Him, the jest sounds new. (Our weariest dinner-tables never tire of that! Let the clown sport with Christ, never the jest falls flat!) Poor fools, we dare not dream a dream so strange, so great, [ 179 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST As on this ball of dust to found one " world-wide state," To float one common flag above our little lands, And ere our little sun grows cold to clasp our hands In friendship for a moment! . ...... Hark, the violins Are swooning through the mist. The great blue band begins, Playing, in dainty scorn, a hymn we used to know, How long was it, ten thousand thousand years ago? There Is a green hill far away Beside a City wall! And O, the music swung a-stray With a solemn, dying fall; For it was a pleasant jest to play Hymns in the Devil's Hall. And yet, and yet, if aught be true, This dream we left behind, This childish Christ, be-mocked anew To please the men of mind, Yet hung so far beyond the flight Of our most lofty thought [ 180] LUCIFER'S FEAST That Lucifer laughed at us that night, Not with us, as he ought. Beneath the blood-red lamp of Mars, Cloaked with a scarlet cloud He gazed along the line of stars Above the guzzling crowd: Sinister, thunder-scarred, he raised His great world-wandering eyes, And on some distant vision gazed Beyond our cloudy skies. " Poor bats" he sneered, " their jungle-dark Civilization's noon! Poor wolves, that hunt in packs and bark Beneath the grinning moon; Poor fools, that cast the cross away, Before they break the sword; Poor sots, who take the night for day; Have mercy on me, Lord. "Beyond their wisdom's deepest skies I see Thee hanging yet, The love still hungering in Thine eyes, Thy plaited crown still wet I [ 181 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST Thine arms outstretched to fold them all Beneath Thy sheltering breast; But since they will not hear Thy call, Lord, I forbear to jest. "Lord, I forbear! The day I fell I fell at least thro' pride! Rather than these should share my hell Take me, thou Crucified! O, let me share Thy cross of grief, And let me work Thy will, 'As morning star, or dying thief, Thy fallen angel still. "Lord, I forbear! For Thee, at least, In pain so like to mine, The mighty meaning of their feast Is plain as bread and wine: O, smile once more, far off, alone! Since these nor hear nor see, From my deep hell, so like Thine own, Lord Christ, I pity Thee." Yet once again, he thought, they shall be fully tried, If they be devils or fools too light for hell's deep pride. C 182 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST The champ of teeth was over, and the reeking room Gaped for the speeches now. Across the sulphurous fume Lucifer gave a sign. The guests stood thundering up ! " Gentlemen, charge your glasses ! " Every yellow cup Frothed with the crimson blood. They brandished them on high! " Gentlemen, drink to those who fight and know not why!" And in the bubbling blood each nose was buried deep. " Gentlemen, drink to those who sowed that we might reap! Drink to the pomp, pride, circumstance, of glorious war, The grand self-sacrifice that made us what we are! And drink to the peace-lovers who believe that peace Is War, red, bloody War ; for War can never cease Unless we drain the veins of peace to fatten WAR! Gentlemen, drink to the brains that made us what we are! Drink to self-sacrifice that helps us all to shake The world with tramp of armies. Germany, awake! England, awake! Shakespeare's, Beethoven's Father- land, Are you not both aware, do you not understand, [ 183 ] LUCIFER'S FEAST Self-sacrifice is competition? It is the law Of Life, and so, though both of you are wholly right, Self-sacrifice requires that both of you should fight." And "Hoch! hoch! hoch!" they cried; and "Hip, hip, hip, Hurrah ! " This raised the gorge of Lucifer. With one deep " Bah," Above those croaking toads he towered like Gabriel ; Then straightway left the table and went home to hell. I '84 ] VETERANS (WRITTEN FOR THE RELIEF FUND OF THE CRIMEAN VETERANS.) WHEN the last charge sounds And the battle thunders o'er the plain, Thunders o'er the trenches where the red streams flow, Will it not be well with us, Veterans, veterans, If, beneath your torn old flag, we burst upon the foe? II When the last post sounds And the night is on the battle-field, Night and rest at last from all the tumult of our wars, Will it not be well with us, Veterans, veterans, If, with duty done like yours, we lie beneath the stars? m When the great reveille sounds For the terrible last Sabaoth, [ 185 ] VETERANS All the legions of the dead shall hear the trumpet ring! Will it not be well with us, Veterans, veterans, If, beneath your torn old flag, we rise to meet our king? [ 186] THE QUEST RENEWED TT is too soon, too soon, though time be brief, Quite to forswear thy quest, O Light, whose farewell dyes the falling leaf, Fades thro' the fading West. Thou'rt flown too soon ! I stretch my hands out still, O, Light of Life, to Thee, Who leav'st an Olivet in each far blue hill, A sorrow on every sea. It is too soon, here while the loud world roars For wealth and power and fame, Too soon quite to forget those other shores Afar, from whence I came; Too soon even to forget the first dear dream Dreamed far away, when tears could freely flow; And life seemed infinite, as that sky's great gleam Deepened, to which I go, Too soon even to forget the fluttering fire And those old books beside the friendly hearth, When time seemed endless as my own desire, And angels walked our earth; Too soon quite to forget amid the throng What once the silent hills, the sounding beach Taught me where singing was the prize of song, And heaven within my reach. It is too soon amid the cynic sneers, The sophist smiles, the greedy mouths and hands, Quite to forget the light of those dead years And my lost mountain-lands; Too soon to lose that everlasting hope (For so it seemed) of youth in love's pure reign, Though while I linger on this darkening slope Nought seems quite worth the pain. It is too soon for me to break that trust, O, Light of Light, flown far past sun and moon, Burn back thro' this dark panoply of dust; Or let me follow soon. [ 188 ] THE LIGHTS OF HOME T3ILOT, how far from home? * Not far, not far to-night, A flight of spray, a sea-bird's flight, A flight of tossing foam, And then the lights of home ! And yet again, how far? Seems you the way so brief? Those lights beyond the roaring reef Were lights of moon and star, Far, far, none knows how far! Pilot, how far from home? The great stars pass away Before Him as a flight of spray, Moons as a flight of foam! I see the lights of home. [ 189 1 MOUNT IDA [This poem commemorates an event of some years ago, when a young Englishman still remembered by many of his contemporaries at Oxford went up into Mount Ida and was never seen again.] cypress, but this warm pine-plumage now Fragrant with sap, I pluck; nor bid you weep Ye Muses that still haunt the heavenly brow Of Ida, though the ascent is hard and steep : Weep not for him who left us wrapped in sleep At dawn beneath the holy mountain's breast And all alone from Ilion's gleaming shore Clomb the high sea-ward glens, fain to drink deep Of earth's old glory from your silent crest, Take the cloud-conquering throne Of gods, and gaze alone Thro' heaven. Darkling we slept who saw his face no more. II Ah yet, in him hath Lycidas a brother, And Adonai's will not say him nay, [ 190 ] MOUNT IDA And Thyrsis to the breast of one sweet Mother Welcomes him, climbing by the self-same way: Quietly as a cloud at break of day Up the long glens of golden dew he stole (And surely Bion called to him afar!) The tearful hyacinths, and the green-wood spray Clinging to keep him from the sapphire goal, Kept of his path no trace! Upward the yearning face Clomb the ethereal height, calm as the morning star m Ah yet, incline, dear Sisters, or my son^ That with the light wings of the skimming swallow Must range the reedy slopes, will work him wrong! And with some golden shaft do thou, Apollo, Show the pine-shadowed path that none may follow; For, as the blue air shuts behind a bird, Round him closed Ida's cloudy woods and rills ! Day-long, night-long, by echoing height and hollow, We called him, but our tumult died un-heard : Down from the scornful sky Our faint wing-broken cry Fluttered and perished among the many-folded hills. MOUNT IDA IV Ay, though we clomb each faint-flushed peak of vision, Nought but our own sad faces we divined : Thy radiant way still laughed us to derision, And still revengeful Echo proved unkind ; And oft our faithless hearts half feared to find Thy cold corse in some dark mist-drenched ravine Where the white foam flashed head-long to the sea : How should we find thee, spirits deaf and blind Even to the things which we had heard and seen? Eyes that could see no more The old light on sea and shore, What should they hope or fear to find? They found not thee; Not though we gazed from heaven o'er Ilion Dreaming on earth below, mistily crowned With towering memories, and beyond her shone The wine-dark seas Achilles heard resound! Only, and after many days, we found Dabbled with dew, at border of a wood Bedded in hyacinths, open and a-glow Thy Homer's Iliad. . . . Dryad tears had drowned [ 192 ] MOUNT IDA The rough Greek type and, as with honey or blood, One crocus with crushed gold Stained the great page that told Of gods that sighed their loves on Ida, long ago. VI See for a couch to their ambrosial limbs Even as their golden load of passion presses The fragrant thyme, a billowing cloud up-swims Of springing flowers beneath their deep caresses, Hyacinth, lotus, crocus, wildernesses Of bloom . . . but clouds of sunlight and of dew Dropping rich balm, round the dark pine-woods curled That the warm wonder of their in-woven tresses, And all the secret blisses that they knew, Where beauty kisses truth In heaven's deep heart of youth, Might still be hidden, as thou art, from the heartless world. vn Even as we found thy book, below these rocks Perchance that strange great eagle's feather lay, When Ganymede, from feeding of his flocks On Ida, vanished thro' the morning gray: E 193 ] MOUNT IDA Stranger it seemed, if thou couldst cast away Those golden musics as a thing of nought, A dream for which no longer thou hadst need ! Ah, was it here then that the break of day Brought thee the substance for the shadow, taught Thy soul a swifter road To ease it of its load And watch this world of shadows as a dream recede? VIII We slept ! Darkling we slept ! Our busy schemes, Our cold mechanic world a-while was still ; But O, their eyes are blinded even in dreams Who from the heavenlier Powers with-draw their will: Here did the dawn with purer light fulfill Thy happier eyes than ours, here didst thou see The quivering wonder-light in flower and dew, The quickening glory of the haunted hill, The Hamadryad beckoning from the tree, The Naiad from the stream; While from her long dark dream Earth woke, trembling with life, light, beauty, through and through. [ 194 ] IX And the everlasting miracle of things Flowed round thee, and this dark earth opposed no bar, And radiant faces from the flowers and springs Dawned on thee, whispering, Knowest thou whence we are? Faintly thou heardst us calling thee afar As Hylas heard, swooning beneath the wave, Girdled with glowing arms, while wood and glen Echoed his name beneath that rosy star ; And thy farewell came faint as from the grave For very bliss; but we Could neither hear nor see ; And all the hill with Hylas! Hylas! rang again. But there were deeper love-tales for thine ears Than mellow-tongued Theocritus could tell: Over him like a sea two thousand years Had swept. They solemnized his music well ! Farewell! What word could answer but farewell, From thee, O happy spirit, thou couldst steal So quietly from this world at break of day? What voice of ours could break the silent spell [ 195 ] MOUNT IDA Beauty had cast upon thee, or reveal The gates of sun and dew Which oped and let thee through And led thee heavenward by that deep enchanted way ? XI Yet here thou mad'st thy choice: Love, Wisdom, Power, As once before young Paris, they stood here ! Beneath them Ida, like one full-blown flower, Shed her bloom earthward thro* the radiant air Leaving her rounded fruit, their beauty, bare To the everlasting dawn; and, in thy palm The golden apple of the Hesperian isle Which thou must only yield to the Most Fair ; But not to Juno's great luxurious calm, Nor Dian's curved white moon, Gav'st thou the sunset's boon, Nor to foam-bosomed Aphrodite's rose-lipped smile. XII Here didst thou make the eternal choice a-right, Here, in this hallowed haunt of nymph and faun, They stood before thee in that great new light, The three great splendors of the immortal dawn, [ 196] MOUNT IDA With all the cloudy veils of Time with-drawn Or only glistening round the firm white snows Of their pure beauty like the golden dew Brushed from the breast-deep ferns below the lawn; But not to cold Diana's morning rose, Nor to great Juno's frown Cast thou the apple down, And, when the Paphian raised her lustrous eyes anew, XIII Thou from thy soul didst whisper in that heaven Which yearns beyond us! Lead me up the height! How should the golden fruit to one be given Till your three splendors in that Sun unite Where each in each ye move like light in light? How should I judge the rapture till I know The pain? And like three waves of music there They closed thee round, blinding thy blissful sight With beauty and, like one roseate orb a-glow, They bore thee on their breasts Up the sun-smitten crests And melted with thee smiling into the Most Fair. xrv Upward and onward, ever as ye went The cities of the world nestled beneath [ 197 ] MOUNT IDA Closer, as if in love. Ida was blent With alien hills in one great bridal-wreath Of dawn-flushed clouds; while, breathing with your breath, New heavens mixed with your mounting bliss. Deep eyes, Beautiful eyes, imbrued with the world's tears Dawned on you, beautiful gleams of Love and Death Flowed thro' your questioning with divine replies From that ineffable height Dark with excess of light Where the Ever-living dies and the All-loving hears. XV For thou hadst seen what tears upon man's face Bled from the heart or burned from out the brain, And not denied or cursed, but couldst embrace Infinite sweetness in the heart of pain, And heardst those universal choirs again Wherein like waves of one harmonious sea All our slight dreams of heaven are singing still, And still the throned Olympians swell the strain, And, hark, the burden of all Come unto Mel Sky into deepening sky Melts with that one great cry; And the lost doves of Ida moan on Siloa's hill. [ 198 ] MOUNT IDA XVI I gather all the ages in my song And send them singing up the heights to thee! Chord by aeonian chord the stars prolong Their passionate echoes to Eternity: Earth wakes, and one orchestral symphony Sweeps o'er the quivering harp-strings of man-kind; Grief modulates into heaven, hate drowns in love, No strife now but of love in that great sea Of song! I dream! I dream! Mine eyes grow blind: Chords that I not command Escape the fainting hand ; Tears fall. Thou canst not hear. Thou'rt still too far above. XVII Farewell! What word should answer but farewell From thee, O happy spirit, whose clear gaze Discerned the path clear, but unsearchable Where Olivet sweetens, deepens, Ida's praise, The path that strikes as thro' a sun-lit haze Through Time to that clear reconciling height Where our commingling gleams of god-head dwell; [ 199 ] MOUNT IDA Strikes thro' the turmoil of our darkling days To that great harmony where like light in light, Wisdom and Beauty still Haunt the thrice-holy hill, And Love, immortal Love . . . what answer but farewell ? [ 2OO ] GLIMPSES IGHT, by dark waves begotten, ^"^ But born in our own eyes, Wilt thou, too, sleep forgotten When this that bore thee dies. When, like a single cymbal, still The unknown power strikes down, And no dark terrene nerve can thrill With colors all its own, When man and beast and bird and bee No longer lend their powers To make this emerald of the sea, This rainbow of the flowers Were all eyes sealed forever Where wouldst thou make thy home? In vain the ethereal waves would quiver The -unanswered forces roam. [ 201 ] GLIMPSES Dark hands might grope and blunder Among soft shapes of flowers, Sweet scents might wake our wonder, Sweet sounds these, too, are ours, Ours, for we can but gather Our own blind feelings here! Flowers? Call them whispers rather, Caresses from out there. In our own ears the sighing; Without the mute air wave! In our own hearts the flying Sense of the love we crave. Whether the dawn be bright'ning Or darkness clouds the road, We ask and ask by lightning In our brief signal-code. And all we feel respond is The flash from nerve to brain, And that which lies beyond is Not this, but night again. O, dream which all inherit, In stars and flowers unfurled; [ 2O2 ] GLIMPSES O, pageant of the Spirit Which we miscall the world; Thou creature of our senses, Thou cry of smitten strings, Ours is the lute, but whence is The hand of it, what Soul that sings? What waif of glory lingers O world which half we make, When 'neath the Eternal fingers We lute-strings break. I 203 J THE ELECTRIC TRAM T1LUFF and burly and splendid *-* Thro* roaring traffic-tides, By secret lightnings attended The land-ship hisses and glides. And I sit on its bridge and I watch and I dream While the world goes gallantly by, With all its crowded houses and its colored shops a-stream Under the June-blue sky, Heigh, ho! Under the June-blue sky. II There's a loafer at the kerb with a sulphur-colored pile Of " Lights! Lights! Lights! " to sell; And a flower-girl there with some lilies and a smile By the gilt swing-doors of a drinking hell, Where the money is rattling loud and fast, [ 204 ] THE ELECTRIC TRAM And I catch one glimpse as the ship swings past Of a woman with a babe at her breast Wrapped in a ragged shawl; She is drinking away with the rest, And the sun shines over it all, Heigh, ho! The sun shines over it all! m And a barrel-organ is playing, Somewhere, far away, * Abide with me, and The world is gone a-maying, And What will the policeman sayf There's a glimpse of the river down an alley by a church, And the barges with their tawny-colored sails, And a grim and grimy coal-wharf where the London pigeons perch And flutter and spread their tails, Heigh, ho! Flutter and spread their tails. IV O, what does it mean, all the pageant and the pity, The waste and the wonder and the slume? [ 205 ] THE ELECTRIC TRAM I am riding tow'rds the sunset thro' the vision of a City Which we cloak with the stupor of a name ! I am riding thro' ten thousand thousand tragedies and terrors, Ten million heavens that save and hells that damn ; And the lightning draws my car tow'rds the golden evening star; And they call it only " riding on a tram," Heigh, ho ! They call it only " riding on a tram." [ 206 ]