:-NRLF B 3 340 235 GRACE FALLOW NORTON ROADS THE NEW POETRY SERIES LONDON: CONSTABLE & CO. LTD. ROADS ROADS BY GRACE FALLOW NORTON LonKon CONSTABLE & CO. LIMITED BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 1916 NOTE FOR permission to reprint certain of these poems thanks are due to the editors of the Atlantic Monthly and Poetry (Chicago). 347913 CONTENTS RAINBOW ROADS i Early still as I lay ill 3 The Cup of Color 4 Blue 7 The Purple Cloak 9 In a Green Place 10 Wings of Flame 12 Silver Spoils 14 Yellow Lilies Three 16 Violet and Vermilion 18 Gold, Blue I 19 Gold, Blue II 21 The White Veil 23 Hyacinth and Gold 25 Out Across the Snow 27 The Red Robe 28 The Plumes upon the Hearse of My Heart 30 The Dyes of Desire 32 The Road of the Rainbow 33 But deeper than all memory 35 CROSSROADS 37 I gave my heart to you once 39 [ix] CONTENTS I Give Thanks 41 Make no Vows 43 Debts 44 Fly On 45 Bitter-Sweet 46 Flowers of Stone 48 Wings in Flight 50 When the Snow falls upon the Mountains 52 " If My Mother Knew " 53 Rise! Come! 55 The Dearest Town 57 "I Kiss You Once" 59 A Flood 60 I Write that on the Day when I no more shall be 61 Hark to the wind of the world! 62 THE RED ROAD 63 Is this the end of the journey ? 65 The Mobilization in Brittany 66 The French Soldier and his Bayonet 70 The Journey 72 In this Year 75 The Volunteer 77 Cutting, Folding and Shaping 78 On Seeing Young Soldiers in London 79 O Peace , where is thy faithful sentry? 86 RAINBOW ROADS " King Solomon made himself a palanquin Of the wood of Lebanon. He made the pillars thereof of silver, The bottom thereof of gold, The seat of it of purple. . . ." Early still as I lay ill Love-of-life came by, Touched me and I bad her I thought I could not die. Now I sing green of the leaf, Red and river- blue ; I tell you never of my grief It is no longer true. O the song was sweet, you say, Though the song was sad. Mayhap you V/ leave my song to-day, But lo, the day is gladJ [ 3 J THE CUP OF COLOR MY strength is spent and I thirst. Bring me the golden wine first; Bring me the red wine when I have done, Nor deem the draught to be my desire, For I thirst, I waste, for gold like fire And for red like the heart of the sun ! (Testernoon I was silent And yestereve I was grave; On a day to come, if the day bids, I shall be patient and brave.} The goblet gray of the years Is full of tears, gray tears. I have drowned it deep in the blue of the sea, I have buried it deep in the blue of heaven, And blue, blue is the robe I have woven For a festal robe for me ! And I will arise and go forth, Your earth-brown heiress, O Earth ! With scarlet banners, with bells, with song, [4] THE CUP OF COLOR I come at noon through the yellow fields, And the gleaming gold that your harvest yields Is the gold for which I long. O gold, my great desire ! O flaming wild flower of fire ! O emerald, my hope, and amber, my dream, O bronze and blue on the mountain s brow, O turquoise, I take you, I bind you now With a silver thread of the stream ! And you, dark heart of the wave, In my wave-wild heart I will have ! I pluck you, purple, from the wild vine, I glean you, green, where the glen-wind blows, I drink you, devour you, I reel with you, rose, rose, rose-red, you are mine ! With violet fill up my veins ! 1 will kneel in vermillion fanes ! Over ivory beaches, past burning cliffs lo With light, with laughter, with shrill sweet song, Down roadways red midst a marvelling throng To the temple-gates I will go ! [ 5 ] RAINBOW ROADS And the dome shall shine in the sky Where doves with coral feet fly, While I pray in the pearly shadow within For blue-stained noons and for moon-shot mist, For opal and olive and amethyst And for scarlet to cleanse me from sin. Then the agate urn, where white Blooms the wild lily of night. . . . The saffron veil of early eve I will draw o er mine eyes and over my breast Pale gold of a living star low in the west So my golden life let me leave ! Of thirst the strong soul can die ! This deathly thirst I cry, For the cup of color it feared and forsook ! Out of the ages, out of my night, I pray, I pant for the brooks of light As the hart for the water-brook ! (Testernoon I was silent And yes terete I was grave; On a day to come, if the day bids, I shall be patient and brave.} BLUE MAN made a ship To be a bowl for me, 1 drank from its iron lip All the blue of the sea ! I drank all the blue Below, then from on high Spilled to fill it anew All the blue of the sky! I clung to the deck, Hearing the gulls cry. Little did I reck That death was riding by ! Death, it was you In a mask of foam ! But I was drinking blue And I was going home Home to my roaming Homeless heart s desire! [ 7 ] RAINBOW ROADS With fire coming To her far fire ! When I would lift my cup The lordlier to drink, The sea tossed it up Till it touched morning s brink. When I would dip it low The deeper to drain, Heaven lowered it so It touched the tumbling main. My mighty iron bowl Held the flower of the sky, And the sea was my tossing soul With death riding by. rise, drain and dip ! Death can do nought to me! 1 have drunk from an iron lip All the blue of the sea! THE PURPLE CLOAK I SOUGHT the marvels of the world Where er her rainbow flags unfurled. I caught the purple cloak of night, I wound it round my body white, Upon my head her starry hood, I went to the still high white-stemmed wood, I went to dance, I went to dream. O nought more marvelous could seem Than to wind your purple cloak, O night, Around my body, milky-white, Upon my head your starry hood, And wild within the high still wood Flitting, flickering, like a flame To dance, to dance, to dream, to dream! [9] IN A GREEN PLACE IN a green place, A vine-twined green place, Where I wished to lie sweetly dreaming and sleeping, Where I wished to wake laughing and leaping, In a green place, A tree-guarded green place, I saw a little girl in a black dress, weeping. little girl, what are you after there ? Now I must make some laughter there ! If she would laugh I could pluck a wreath for my hair With a green wreath I should be more fair. But alas, alas, always in the air Is a little girl in a black dress, weeping. . . . In a green place, A shadow-girt green place, 1 made a hole and let a bright bird through, And I made another hole and let in the yellow sun, too ! [ 10] IN A GREEN PLACE And she laughed and she sang and she grew ! And in a green place, A garlanded golden-gay green place, I sang for you ! WINGS OF FLAME THE world has bridges of bronze and tall gray towers With beacon-lights burning and bells to tell the hours. The world has blue islands and orange-funnelled ships, And caves and waves the world has, with curving wind-wild lips. The world has rich garments of red leaves and snow, And here I would praise the world, for I love it so. The world has women like fawns, like swans, From castles and cottages they move over green lawns To greet the world s warriors, within whose eyes The mystery and history of all the world lies. And children the world has, upon whose golden hair The world casts her rapture, her glory, her despair ! And aged the world has, whose pity covers all. (O world, grant me this pity, like flower-petals that fall.) And wings has the world to bear it journeying From dawn unto dawn and from Spring unto Spring. t >2] WINGS OF FLAME Blue wings at noontide, red wings at night, Black wings at midnight, when dawn whispers, white. Spread, spread for me, O world, your wings of flame ! Fold me, fold me, into a fiery dream ! SILVER SPOILS And if the creature moils and toils What is it to this song? This is a song of siher spoils, Caught swinging along. Last night I walked the city street, Wearing a woman s veil. Then there was laughter; then there were feet; Then there was silver hail And harps and shaking silver bells And flutes within my brain ; I stood beside deep silver wells ; I said, " We rise again ! " Love, let no light moon ever rise Until my joy has risen ! I could not suffer heaven s surprise, Finding me in prison ! Mirth, let no mad moon ever sweep Heaven, nor find my floor Swept where I have leaped from sleep And danced before the door ! [ 4 J SILVER SPOILS Light, let no white moon hunt through heaven Till I am hunting too ! When the silver bow is given My thoughts are arrows true, And when she stalks the starry plains To fill her silver bowl, I laugh in narrow lamplit lanes, A silver sallying soul ! Huntress, huntress, hold it high, Your globe of silver fire, And I will draw and pierce the sky And lift a star from the mire ! And if my hand be stained by the dye Wherein all day it toils, Still I come home beneath the sky Bearing silver spoils. Tou did not guess me, swinging along? But if me my toil had tamed, I could not tell you in a song, For I should be ashamed! YELLOW LILIES THREE HE made a memory : He laid three lilies down ; He broke from the apple-tree White branches for a crown He crowned the great god Jove, A god of wind-worn stone ; This god had not his love But strong he stood and lone And would endure for aye, And so he wove a crown, Knelt at his feet to lay Three yellow lilies down. And wrote beneath his hand Where never man might read : "To-day white winds have fanned The hill-sides and they breed "White blossoms and the sun On golden trellises Lifts the bright lilies, one For each gold hope of his ; [ 16] YELLOW LILIES THREE And I am mad, O god, With youth and morn and May ! This is my day, O god, This is my golden day ! " Thus ran his secret rite: With yellow lilies three, With blossoms, fragile, white, He made a memory. VIOLET AND VERMILION FOR violet and vermilion He gave his soul, a dove-white flame, In purple pride now he lives on, In purple pride, in scarlet shame. And O the bitter trade, and O That violet should be so dear ! That we who love vermilion so For our white souls need ever fear. GOLD, BLUE WE shut our doors on you, Gold, blue; We feared you, you were not cold, Blue, gold. We said, we are seeking the true, Gold, blue. (We have sought the true from of old, Blue, gold.) O what are you, what is true, Gold, blue ? Wild flowers in the wheat-field unfold, Blue, gold, Pale stars in the early eve too Gold, blue And earth is not cold, is not cold, Blue, gold ! [ 9 ] RAINBOW ROADS We have sought, we have fought for the true, Gold, blue. . . . So I battle to bless and behold Blue, gold ! GOLD, BLUE ii WHEN Mary was the Queen of Heaven, She wore a mantle blue, Gold stars to her for crown were given, Stars and sweet light thereto. When Mary faded, who was so fair, And lay within the ground, Where did she leave her cloak and where Her crown with radiance crowned? (Mary s mantle I did see Ere Mary died beside the tree.} Ere Mary died who once in blue Was sent to kiss her son, She hung her mantle where Heaven s dew Dreams the dear day begun. Broad it hangs and bright in Heaven. On shelves of night she laid The gold stars we to her had given, To crown our mother-maid. [21 ] RAINBOW ROADS (Mary s mantle I have seen. Mary died who once was queen.} Would you Mary s mantle wear, O any woman ? Dare you Boldly cast your lot to share That seamless robe of blue ? Would you the crown you gave her bear, Brave queen, upon your brow O last queen, now left queenless here? Dare you be star-crowned now ? (Mary s jewel I have seen. Any woman could be queen."] Any woman (the radiance grows !) Dreaming of her dear day, Who sends her own soul forth, who goes, Huntress of her way, Bearing myrtle, bearing myrrh, Beholding the pale queen dead Blue heaven hangs, bright cloth for her, Stars are for her head. (Mary s mantle I did see. Now mine own is more to me.} THE WHITE VEIL I HAVE forgot them all, The faces of my friends. I hear the shepherds call, I watch the fountain fall, And there remembrance ends, For now no heart I have, Only a scarlet flower, Only a silver wave For these my heart I gave, And for a rainbow shower ! And late within this land I have become the bride Of him within whose hand Rests the wild silent strand, The sombre mountain-side. A silence full of song His shadow full of light. . . Long I desired him, long, Following amid the throng Ever his mantle white. RAINBOW ROADS And now his veil I wear, Lord of sorrows that cease. His veil is white and fair, Woven of evening air O white veil of Peace. HYACINTH AND GOLD THE golden sun streams down over the golden sands And crowned with a hyacinth crown I will linger a while and dream. This land is full of old dreams and for to-day I deem An olden dream will be sweet enough with hyacinth in my hands. Lone stands the strong stone arch, shattered where sunbeams pass, With columns cunningly carven, broken by storms long spent. Where are the hearts that dreamed here, the hands that wrought and went? Naught there is left that lives here, save hyacinth in the grass. My heart, is it gold of the sun that clothes with its tissue now An old cold saint that silent pensive and lonely stands, And my young warm arms outstretched and the hya cinth in my hands ? Ay, it is gold that the golden sun has spun of old dreams, I trow. [ 5] RAINBOW ROADS Lo, I have lingered so long beside the broken plinth That the sun has wrought in my flesh a fervent dream- desire To wait on him here till my heart is naught but a golden fire, Till purple out of my pleading lips springs the wild hyacinth ! OUT ACROSS THE SNOW IF all the lands were lost to me There s a land that I know, A lonely land, a long land, A loved land of snow; And if all the lands were lost to me In that land I know I could live and make my little black tracks Out across the snow; If all the lands were lost to me I should weep not. There would blow From my sure, pure, paper land A wind that I know, A wind that s never lost to me, Whispering, You may go, Make your little crooked black tracks Out across the snow ! THE RED ROBE I HAD great need of prayer the morn I bound and crowned my hair, My body with red I did adorn, I had such need of prayer, I had such need of prayer. And so, Sandalling my swift feet, I flung myself, adream, aglow, Into swift music sweet. I had such need of prayer I whirled Like the wreathed white moon Who whirls above the wind of the world And turns within its tune. And I had need of surging prayer, So I threw my arms wave-wide, And lifted them in the silver air Like the surging great sea-tide. And then at last (I was so fain Of prayer), trampling brown earth, [ 28] THE RED ROBE I cried my pride, my peace, my pain, My daily red rebirth ! My soul, my soul, and you were true ! You heard and answered there My robe of red, my music too, Myself, my pride, my prayer ! THE PLUMES UPON THE HEARSE OF MY HEART THE plumes upon the hearse of my heart Were black as all the night, But seeing them my soul s wild art Said, " See ! In the sun how bright ! " The plumes upon the hearse of my heart Were black as all despair, Yet seeing them my soul s wild art Cried out, " I find them fair ! " The plumes upon the hearse of my heart Were blots about the sky, Yet seeing them my soul s wild art Said, " Stately and how high ! " The plumes upon the hearse of my heart Went tossing to the place Where I laid with all my soul s wild art The most beloved face. [30] PLUMES ON THE HEARSE OF MY HEART The plumes upon the hearse of my heart Came tossing back to the town. Then seized them there my soul s wild art For wings and for a crown ! THE DYES OF DESIRE I KISS you now with scarlet lips : They have touched forbidden fruit, The scarlet pomegranate drips To the sound of a secret flute. I touch you now with whiter hands And O more tenderly. Long they have lain in lotus lands And learned what lilies be. I bring you flowers my blue eyes. Now they are bluer far Than ere they had desired the dyes That robe the Eastern star. I held them up to day s high blue, My dull, my empty eyes. I held them up to midnight too, Wilful, wild and wise. THE ROAD OF THE RAINBOW "T was up in great fields and meadows, 5T was out on the airy way. A gladdening, a glory, Past cloud, over clod, it lay. I went the road of the rainbow To find the fairy gold, And O my friend, I found it, More than my hands could hold ! And some I could not carry I flung with a cry through the skies Have you not seen the new stars Winking their golden eyes? And some I could not carry I laid with a sigh in the earth. My friend, I fear the miners May never know its worth. Its worth lies half in the finding Out on the airy way. [33] RAINBOW ROADS (Hold not to the end of the rainbow Where the gold grows old and gray!) Its worth lies half in the flinging Higher still in the skies, In the flinging and the joyful Singing and the cries ! But deeper than all memory Of earth or the arch above, There is lying, living deep in me Burning remembrance of The hands, the hands that paved the way Unto each far delight, Setting the signals of the day, The torches of the night. Almost it seems that it was hands Have made the world so wide, For that they lead us through green lands And over the sea s gray tide. Almost it seems they hold on high Blue-veined, quivering, strong The vaulted azure of the sky, The rainbow of my song. [35] CROSSROADS Les grand* routes tracent des crolx A Vinfini, a tr avers bois; Les grand* routes tracent des croix loin taints A rinfini) a trayers plaines. EMILE VERHAEREN. / gave my heart to you once, And that was long since. And long hence, Broken with beauty and pain, I V/ give you my heart again. My heart is hard as a stone And lone. It is mine own, Harsh and haughty and proud! But I melt like a cloud, I murmur and melt in the hour That you put forth a leaf like a flower: Broken with beauty and pain I give you my heart again ! I took my heart to a height; I hung it up in the light ; Content with its own bright store It needed you no more. I took my heart into Hell; I let it look, look well; It lifted a handful of flames And called them cool sweet streams ! [39] CROSSROADS / took my heart round the earth; It journeyed, mad from birth! Content with upcurling smoke My heart nor shook nor spoke, Till you danced in rags in the street And I flung my heart at your feet! Broken it lay and beat. . . . Broken with beauty and pain I give you my heart again. . . . I GIVE THANKS THERE s one that I once loved so much I am no more the same. I give thanks for that transforming touch, I tell you not his name. . . . He has become a sign to me For flowers and for fire. For song he is a sign to me And for the broken lyre. And I have known him in a book And never touched his hand, And he is dead. I need not look For him through his green land. Heaven may not be. I have no faith, But this desire I have To take my soul on my last breath, To lift it like a wave And surge unto his star and say: His friendship had been Heaven. CROSSROADS And pray: for clouds that closed his day May light at last be given. And say: he shone at noon so bright I learned to run and rejoice! And beg him for one last delight The true sound of his voice. There s one that once moved me so much I am no more the same, And I pray I too, I too, may touch Some heart with singing flame. MAKE NO VOWS I MADE a vow once, one only; I was young and I was lonely. When I grew strong I said, "This vow Is too narrow for me now. Who am I to be bound by old oaths ? I will change them as I change my clothes! " But that ancient outworn vow Was like fetters upon me now. It was hard to break, hard to break, Hard to shake from me, hard to shake. I broke it by day but it closed upon me at night. He is not free who is free only in the sunlight. He is not free who bears fetters in his dreams, Nor he, who laughs only by dark dream-fed streams, O it costs much bright coin of strength to live ! Watch then, where all your strength you give! For I, who would be so wild and wondrous now, Must give, give, to break a burdening bitter vow! [43] DEBTS RENDER unto Caesar Cassar s due; His dues give alway to the devil too; To Jesus yield your life (he gave his for you). For Cerberus but a sop; an obol or two For Charon. Endebted soul! Have you Aught now left to pay what to yourself is due? [44] FLY ON ! O DOVE, you lay on the altar of her Called Venus, called goddess of love. Your wings were wounded, you did not stir, And you died mid her flowers, O Dove. But a breath stirred the world, it flooded to you And you quivered and lived, O Dove, And lifted your wings and flew and flew To Mary, called mother of love. And you touched the son of Mary the maid By the great white throne of love. . . . But the flowers at Mary s footstool fade And you died mid her flowers, O Dove. O live again ! Fly on to mine own, Mine own bright garden of love ! The wind is cold round the ancient throne, But my day desires you, O Dove ! [45] BITTER-SWEET O savor it and flavor it And strive to make it meet. T is bitter, bitter, bitter, And yet it is so sweet. All the ways to live We try with all our strength. " Pay, I will not give ! " Crieth Life at length. But the price, Life, the price ? " Now thou shalt pay me twice ! Thou shalt pay, pay in pain, Then thou shalt pay again ! " A blossom of living bliss Blooms on high in my sky. Life, what is the price of this ? This living bliss I would buy. So the price, Life, the price? " O thou shalt pay me twice ! Thou shalt pay, pay in pain, Then thou shalt pay again! " [46] BITTER-SWEET So I buy, buy my days, Bidding high for an hour, For, Life, I have learned thy ways The price, it is in my power ! the price, Life, the price, 1 can pay it twice, thrice ! I have paid, paid in pain, And I 11 pay thee again and again ! O savor it and flavor it And seek to make it meet. "T is bitter, bitter , bitter, But the very dregs are sweet. FLOWERS OF STONE I have drunk deep out of sculptured fountains, Climbing wide carven stairs, Seeking the stony white heart of the mountains And the beauty it bears. I have come proudly through marble portals, Hugging my joy alone, Learning the loveliest dream of mortals The blossoming of stone. On the high altar I lay my flowers, Yarrow and yellow broom. There they will wither, but all the hours Blight not the marble s bloom. All the hours and all the long frowning Years fade never the fair White immortal garland crowning Time and silence there. Radiant earth and swift Spring, the rover, Bear their frail issue bright ; [48] FLOWERS OF STONE But earth s hid heart waits her lover Man, with his mind s hid might! Man ! When the flowers fade by the fountains, When the leaf lies alone, Dream your dream of her heart in the mountains Wreathe for me flowers of stone ! WINGS IN FLIGHT To each his sacred task. Soul ! Oracle ! I ask - Tell me my sacred task ! " Tou must leave the bright flock of the angels And leave their beloved faces, And fall like Lord Lucifer Down through cold great spaces. " Tou must leave the white halls of the angels And leave their level light, And leap with lame Lucifer Into stark dark night. " Tou must leave the high bliss of the angels And leave their prayerful peace, And turn like light Lucifer And whirl and never cease. " Tou must leave the cool wells of the angels And leave their chanting choirs, And burn like lost Lucifer, Seeking eternal fires." [50] WINGS IN FLIGHT Cold immense echoing spaces ! O stark black empty night ! Farewell, beloved sweet faces ! Farewell, clear lamps of light ! No music is here but crashing, No effulgence here but the flashing Of my wings in flight. Farewell, veiled holy graces ! Farewell, O hushed and bright ! I go to dream in dread places Of a height beyond your height ! Unto outer darkness given, I go to set beyond heaven The spark that is my light ! WHEN THE SNOW FALLS UPON THE MOUNTAINS WHEN the snow falls upon the mountains, Though I am so far away, My heart runs up to the frozen fountains, Hushed all the happy day. And my heavy head bends as the laurel (I remember, I know) Bends its branches of twisted coral Beneath the heavy snow. When the snow falls upon the mountains, Though I am so happy, so far, My heart beats against the frozen fountains, Where the trembling waters are. My heart leaps to where the living Waters bide the time Of their outgoing and outgrowing and outgiving In running rivers of rhyme. My heart cries to the hidden berry, Scarlet beneath the snow, " There is release ! Life dares not tarry ! I remember, I know ! " [52] "IF MY MOTHER KNEW IF my mother knew How our doves at dawn Shake me with their wings, Wild, bewildered, wan, When the white star sings And they would be gone, Would she from her sleep Rise and look afar, Past our fold and keep, To that pulsing star? If my mother knew How the heath in flower With its faint perfume At the twilight hour, Fills my little room Like some lady s bower, Would she from the hearth Rise and look again, Past our hedges forth To the purpling plain ? [53] CROSSROADS If my mother knew How my heart will beat With the hope of hands, For the fall of feet, Though no pilgrim bands Find our narrow street, Would she from the loom Rise, remembering so How the heart must roam ? Then would she let me go? RISE! COME! EVERY morning, dark or fair, To my doorway comes Despair; Says, " Behold now the turf is brown, Peace is there where you would lie down. 5 Every morning, fair or dark, Comes Despair to bid me hark, For behold now the turf is green, Peace is there where I might have been. But I think I am hearing a drum, And I think I hear, " Rise ! Come ! Swift one ! Slender one ! " And I say, Go !" for I know the voice of Day. Day it is and her slave the Sun Would woo me for I am not won. Lend me, lover, a flower of your fire I would be one with the world s desire! Lend me sandals, for I run a race. Drunken I am with the dream of a face ! [55] CROSSROADS Drunken I am with the dream of a tune ! I would reel in the sun s red shoon ! And wild with the dark when the Day has gone, In dreams my dance and I are one Till with morning, false and fair At my doorway stands Despair. " Now behold where the green turf is - But I am one whom the Sun would kiss ! O slave Sun ! O darling day ! Call, ere her shadow has barred the way ! THE DEAREST TOWN I THINK of the tall gray towers of my dearest town, Where the venders of gay flowers go crying up and down, I think of the little alleys all dim with purple light, And the portals of the palace, green and gold and white ! For I love each maiden singing and sewing there, And the market-women laden with cheeses round and rare, And the little children laughing because life is so gay, And the tall men chaffing, quaffing red wine upon the quay. I love the worst and the fairest, the black, the blond and the brown. Not one is best or dearest within my dearest town. My distant darling city, my stateliest, loveliest ! My painted, praised twere pity, had I loved any best ! [57] CROSSROADS For had I loved a lover, you would but seem a road, Your roads would but discover the roof of his abode. You would not be you only you would be a square, a door, A stair, a chamber lonely, a face forevermore ! But I love the worst and the fairest, the black, the blond and the brown : Not one is best or dearest within my dearest town ! I KISS YOU ONCE " I KISS you once for your blue eyes And once for your golden curls. I hug your warm little body And think of all dear little girls. In every place they have them, Golden and blue and rose; In every place they kiss them, And that is the way it goes. They re all of a droll little sameness, Golden and rose and blue ; But each has a dear little difference, And one of them is you. So I kiss you once for the sameness, For all the dear little girls, And I kiss you twice for your own two Blue eyes and your golden curls. [59] A FLOOD EVERY everywhere I be, Trickles, trickles busily, All through my heart and in and out, A little rill of poetry. Now I must dig a ditch for me To catch my rill of poetry ! A ditch of words might be about Enough for my capacity. But O it runs too fast for me ! (It trickles, trickles busily) ; " The ditch and dykes give way/ I shout, " The land is drowned in poetry ! " [60] I WRITE THAT ON THE DAY WHEN I NO MORE SHALL BE After the French of the Countess de Noailles I WRITE that on the day when I no more shall be, Men know how air and pleasure once pleased me ; And that my book to future folk shall tell That I loved joyous nature and my life, how well. Attentive to the labor of the house and field, I marked each day the form of the season s yield, Knowing that water, earth and the mounting flame Are in no place so beautiful as in my dream. All that I have seen and felt, all I have told, From a heart for which no truth was ever too bold; With ardor, because of love that was my breath, And that I might be loved again after my death. And that a young man reading then my written word, Feeling his heart by me troubled, stirred, Forgetful of real wives who wait for him, Should take me to his soul, preferring me to them. [61 ] Hark to the wind of the world! The shafts of my life are far- hurled - I cannot belong to you ! I belong to the cataract, leaping ; I belong to the west wind, weeping; I belong to the white swan, sleeping; I belong to the wild curlew ! Away ! I say it must end! Call me not, call me not friend / am false for I must be true ! I belong to the cedar, swinging; I belong to the silence, ringing; I belong to the noon-sun, singing Where the singing god-reed grew. Go farther, farther away ! I will walk with you yet, some day, But I will not belong to you ! I belong to the eagle, flying; I belong to the sea-tide, sighing ; I belong to the wilderness, crying ; I belong to dawn and the dew! [62] THE RED ROAD a patriotic cry, A battle, bravery, rum , and no more ? THOMAS HARDY Is this the end of the journey ? Bright bridge and gala street Led but to the black shadow That shakes beneath our feet? Is this the end of the journey? The ship sailed only to go Where the wild sea broke and parted And rose and dealt her the blow ? Is this the end of the journey ? On rainbow wings to rise And fly but to meet our dark mate Who breaks our wings as he flies ? Is this the end, O pilgrim ? Or is there a builder for me, Building a ship to sail farther On the crimson cruel sea, Where wounded wings rise higher Paving with lives a road That will journey onward, onward, Over great bridges of blood! [65 ] THE MOBILIZATION IN BRITTANY i IT was silent in the street. I did not know until a woman told me, Sobbing over the muslin she sold me. Then I went out and walked to the square And saw a few dazed people standing there. And then the drums beat, the drums beat ! O then the drums beat! And hurrying, stumbling through the street Came the hurrying stumbling feet. I have heard the drums beat For war ! 1 have heard the townsfolk come, I have heard the roll and thunder of the nearest drum As the drummer stopped and cried, " Hear ! Be strong ! The summons comes ! Prepare ! " Closing he prayed us to be calm. . , . And there was calm in my heart of the desert, of the dead sea, Of vast plains of the West before the coming storm, And there was calm in their eyes like the last calm that shall be. [66] THE MOBILIZATION IN BRITTANY And then the drum beat, The fatal drum beat, And the drummer marched through the street And down to another square, And the drummer above took up the beat And sent it onward where Huddled, we stood and heard the drums roll, And then a bell began to toll. I have heard the thunder of drums Crashing into simple poor homes. 1 have heard the drums roll " Farewell ! " I have heard the tolling cathedral bell. Will it ever peal again ? Shall I ever smile or feel again? What was joy? What was pain? For I have heard the drums beat, I have seen the drummer striding from street to street, Crying, "Be strong! Hear what I must tell!" While the drums roared and rolled and beat For war! [67] THE RED ROAD ii Last night the men of this region were leaving. Now they are far. Rough and strong they are, proud and gay they are. So this is the way of war. . . . The train was full and we all shouted as it pulled away. They sang an old war-song, they were true to them selves, they were gay! We might have thought they were going for a holi day Except for something in the air, Except for the weeping of the ruddy old women of Finistere. The younger women do not weep. They dream and stare. They seem to be walking in dreams. They seem not to know It is their homes, their happiness, vanishing so. (Every strong man between twenty and forty must g0 [68] THE MOBILIZATION IN BRITTANY They sang an old war-song. I have heard it often in other days, But never before when War was walking the world s highways. They sang, they shouted, the Marseillaise! The train went and another has gone, but none, com ing, has brought word. Though you may know, you, out in the world, we have not heard, We are not sure that the great battalions have stir red Except for something, something in the air, Except for the weeping of the wild old women of Finistere. How long will the others dream and stare? The train went. The strong men of this region are all away, afar. Rough and strong they are, proud and gay they are. So this is the way of war. . . . THE FRENCH SOLDIER AND HIS BAYONET FAREWELL, my wife, farewell, Marie, I am going with Rosalie. You stand, you weep, you look at me- But you know the rights of Rosalie, And she calls, the mistress of men like me ! I come, my little Rosalie, My white-lipped, silent Rosalie, My thin and hungry Rosalie! Strange you are to be heard by me, But I keep my pledge, pale Rosalie ! On the long march you will cling to me And I shall love you, Rosalie; And soon you will leap and sing to me And I shall prove you, Rosalie; And you will laugh, laugh hungrily And your lips grow red, my Rosalie; THE FRENCH SOLDIER AND HIS BAYONET And you will drink, drink deep with me, My fearless flushed lithe Rosalie! Farewell, O faithful far Marie, I am content with Rosalie. She is my love and my life to me, And your lone and my land my Rosalie! Go mourn, go mourn in the aisle, Marie, She lies at my side, red Rosalie ! Go mourn, go mourn and cry for me. My cry when I die will be " Rosalie ! " THE JOURNEY I WENT upon a journey To countries far away, From province unto province, To pass my holiday. And when I came to Serbia, In a quiet little town At an inn with a flower-filled garden With a soldier I sat down. Now he lies dead at Belgrade. You heard the cannon roar ! It boomed from Rome to Stockholm, It pealed to the far west shore. And when I came to Russia, A man with flowing hair Called me his friend and showed me A flowing river there. Now he lies dead at Lemberg, Beside another stream, [ 72 ] THE JOURNEY In his dark eyes extinguished The friendship of his dream. And then I crossed two countries Whose names on my lips are sealed. . . Not yet had they flung their challenge Nor led upon the field Sons who lie dead at Liege, Dead by the Russian lance, Dead in southern mountains, Dead through the farms of France. I stopped in the land of Louvain, So tranquil, happy, then. I lived with a good old woman, With her sons and her grandchildren. Now they lie dead at Louvain, Those simple kindly folk. Some heard, some fled. It must be Some slept, for they never woke. I came to France. I was thirsty. I sat me down to dine. The host and his young wife served me With bread and fruit and wine. [ 73 ] THE RED ROAD Now he lies dead at Cambrai He was sent among the first. In dreams she sees him dying Of wounds, of heat, of thirst. At last I passed to Dover And saw upon the shore A tall young English captain And soldiers, many more. Now they lie dead at Dixmude, The brave, the strong, the young! I turn unto my homeland, All my journey sung! IN THIS YEAR IT is a poor thing to sit here safe at home And when great hopes are calling, to be dumb. It is a poor thing to send not even a cheer To men who fight our battles in this year. Our battle for our breath republican ! Breath, O man, for the struggling soul of man That strives and longs that dies and lives of late Kingless to bear kinglike at last its fate ! Casting away the crown, casting the crutch Away the sceptre, trusted overmuch Crowning at length each separate strong soul, Whereby men know that they are men and whole! This was the hope to which we set our hand In a green, generous, timeless, taleless land. They watched our birth from far with faith and fear. What is our faith ? What fear we in this year ? Are we so strong that we could stand for aye With those far fire-tried Faithful torn away ? [75] THE RED ROAD Are we so weak that we can stand no more So broken, dreamless, paltry, spirit-poor? O t is a poor thing to send the world no word, As though now they were naught death by the sword, Love s daily dying uttermost gifts of faith For such brave being, such free passionate breath ! THE VOLUNTEER Sow white stars in a sky of blue. (I should be safe, at home with you!) Burn red bars on a field of white. (I dreamed of liberty last night.) Like a flower against the sky, (Might it, flower-like, fade or die?) Blue and white and bright blood-red, I saw it float above my head. Like a flower, blood-red, blue And white, and strangely worn and wet, The flag of France was flying too. . . . (I dreamed last night of Lafayette.) Strew white flowers on a coat of blue. (I could be safe, at home with you !) Spill red wine on a cloth of white. . . . I fight for freedom and France to-night ! [77] CUTTING, FOLDING AND SHAPING WE have made hundreds of oakum-pads and dress ings and compresses, Cutting, folding and shaping, amid murmuring wom en s voices. The woman beside me has lost two brothers, so they tell. She tells no one. . . . She works well. . . . The young girl beyond knows her lover will soon be sent ; He goes with the foreign regiment, But her father is serving Austria at Trente. They come here and make oakum-pads and dressings and compresses, Cutting, folding and shaping, amid murmuring wom en s voices. I wish I were a great commander of the army, Strong and rough and stormy. The spirit of Lafayette would come to me And I would go over the sea, Sure of followers, crying, "Who will follow me ! " I am a pale Joan of Arc, seeing visions, hearing no clear voices, So I sit here and make oakum-pads and dressings and compresses. [ 78] ON SEEING YOUNG SOLDIERS IN LONDON i I HAVE no Heaven for myself. My heart is Heaven here. To unfold, to fade it is enough, earth and a dream so dear. But I craved Heaven for them, for them ! Let there be Paradise ! They go to die ere they have lived, their youth within their eyes. They go to die for the bond, the word, that the dream of dreams may grow. It is their will. They say farewell knowing where they go. . . . Though they have Heaven as they die, knowing they die so well, Knowing the dream is dear enough, as all who live will tell, [ 79] THE RED ROAD Knowing this death is life yet --youth is in their eyes ! let them wake, laugh and unfold ! For them, green Paradise! ii 1 HEARD that old men were murdered, young chil dren harried and hurt, While world s wonderful wonders were burned and turned to dirt, And I flamed ! I was lost ! All my world rocked and broke in blood ! Stood the Arch-smiter near I had crushed him where he stood ! Sudden in my soul leaped the beast that lives in each soul and sleeps Till he hears the cry of an eye for an eye ! Then he lives and leaps ! (O do not bid me say that he lies not, lives not, in you. My songs sweep the souls of men and they know that this is true.) [80] ON SEEING YOUNG SOLDIERS IN LONDON Soul, send him to sleep more deep ! For we must take torches and go With the great processional that is mounting, mount ing, slow, Slow, on, on with torches, ay, and with spears ! For soldiers are marching with us soldiers, suffer ers, seers Struggling through time s ages, desperately struggling to-day On the plains of France and Flanders, where Woe has pointed the way, Striving to see true Justice, striving to win her will, To reach her fair sure fortress, to build on her tower- crowned hill ! in WE would build Justice a throne ; We were giving her land by land, And each true voice and each hand : All this she should have for her own. But she harkened, she heard the moan Of a little land over the sea, [81 ] THE RED ROAD And Justice could not let be ; She said, It is shaking, my throne ! So now we must build, bone on bone, Body on body, with blood, With tears, with youth, with manhood, Faltering, groan on groan, With steel and showering stone, With the mortar s murderous breath, With horror and anguish and death All these she must have for her throne ! IV Is this the dream that follows you ? By this dream am I haunted too. That where the sword hung I saw it hang, That I saw the thin-worn thread, That I heard the trumpets ere they rang, That I saw the wide wounds ere they bled, That I saw the dead. . . . But that ere they died I went alone Alone, alone, alone Though none upheld, none followed me, none, I dared to go alone L J ON SEEING YOUNG SOLDIERS IN LONDON Barefooted, with a staff in my hand, Faithful, from land to land, Like a lash, like a torch, like a brand, With one cry and one call : " Take down the hanging sword from the wall ! Lift it and bring it to earth ere it fall ! " (O had I gone thus might they not have heard ? Alas, alas, I never stirred ! I saw no sword. I was always hearing a blue trilling bird.) Is this the dream that follows you ? By this dream am I haunted too. BANNERS and bugles ! My ship is going down ! Too late for hope, too late for any prayer. Then sing ! Fling flags into the air ! Red flags, red flags ! O scarlet victory ! Blue banners, blue let them flout the sky, Let some wild song ring, make it sweet to die ! Trumpets and drums ! The deep has spread its bed ! Trumpets and drums! Spread banners, blue and red ! Weep not, wail not, it is not death to drown ! Banners and bugles ! My ship is going down ! [83] THE RED ROAD VI THE eyes of the world are weeping Red tears, terrible tears ! The bitter flood goes sweeping Down through yearning years. For the heart of the world is breaking O sore and stricken heart ! But a sorrowful woman is waking Slow, who slept apart. Silent, bent and burdened, She slept in a seething world ; She sighed and slept, world-pardoned, While war-flags were unfurled. Lover, life-giver, woman Behold the torn strewn lives ! Was your deep sleep the foeman In the swarming arming hives ? (O that I am beholden To find my fate in hers, Who would be glad, gay, golden, Lost in a murmuring verse.) [ 84] ON SEEING YOUNG SOLDIERS IN LONDON Awaken, Slothful, awaken ! The red tide reaches the sea ! The heart of the world is broken. . . . What dare we bring or be ? VII ONCE I cried, " The world is wide ! >J But the world is wide no more. . . . Shore breaks upon shore, Tide baffles tide, Hill rides over hill Where the high hills were lying, And on one plain the whole of the world is dying ! Yet up and down my soul, singing still, (Death has stopped her laughter, can death stop her deeds ?) Life with red lips drives her wild strong steeds, Denying and crying, crying, " Go ! " freedom, freedom, freedom, 1 did not know I loved you so ! O Peace , where is thy faithful sentry ? Where is thy fort ? Where are thy serried legions who go singing forth to save ? O Peace, where is thy flag-filled port? Wilt thou come armored in iron or armed only with light ? Art thou strong-bodied servant to Justice or wouldst thou call her slave ? O Peace, what hast thou for thy might? We who have not kept thee, shalt thou keep us, Peace ? Where are thine haste, thine heart-to-heart, thy bells, thy beacon-flames ? In thine house must the bugle cease ? Where are thy desperate lovers who would die for thee? Fighting for kings men die to-day by choked and crimson streams For kings or for democracy ! For thee, for thee, has any chosen thus to die ? Art thou so sweet to men as crowns of kings or kingly dreams ? Here lie the desperate lovers of liberty ! O Peace, what is thy battle-cry? " Jeanne cT Arc, mettez beaucoup de colere dans nos caeurs" CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS U . S . A 50W-7/16 347913 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY