UC-NRLF $B E7fl 375 x.f^ DWINElMAGE o o line Giltinan Digitized by tine Internet Arcinive in 2007 witii funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation littp://www.arcliive.org/details/divineimagebookoOOgiltricli THE DIVINE IMAGE A BOOK OF LYRICS THE DIVINE IMAGE A BOOK OF LYRICS By CAROLINE GILTINAN **For this, for this the lights innumerahle As symbols shine that we the true light win: For every star and every deep they fill Are stars and deeps within" A. E, {George W, [Russell) THE CORNHILL COMPANY BOSTON Copyright, 1917 By The Cornhill Company All rights reserved IN LOVING REMEMBRANCE OF HELEN McCaffrey giltinan A noi Ofi ACKNOWLEDGMENT For permission to reprint certain poems in this book thanks are due to the editors and proprietors of Lippincotfs Magazinij The Catholic Worlds The Queen's Work, The Poetry Journaly The Poetry Review, The Boston Transcript, The Philadelphia North American, and the Anthology of Magazine Verse for 1915 and 1917. Appreciation is expressed to William Stanley Braithwaite for his unfailing kindness and encouragement. CONTENTS The Breeze 1 Over Night, a Rose 2 The Coward 4 When Darkness Covered the Earth 5 Clouds 7 The Courtyard Pigeons .... 8 Mary Fitton, to Master Will Shakespeare 10 My Heart is Full of Vagrant Songs 12 Mater Salvatoris 13 Wanting So the Face Divine . IS The Little Maid 16 Magic . 18 Realism 19 Would the Sky Be Beautiful . 20 All That I Love 21 "Vive La France!" 22 Durance 23 Chips 24 Certainty 26 After Dark 27 iz Cost 28 Cry of the Childless .... 29 Protest 30 Shackled 31 To My Victrola 32 Rodin's " Hand of God '' . . . 35 His Woman 36 Tradition 37 The Sisters 38 The Hungry 39 Before the Dawn ...... 40 The Interloper 41 Proficient 42 Mated 43 Absence 44 Toll 45 The Changeling 46 The Conjurer 48 Reaping 49 The Ransom 50 Achievement 51 The Sacrifice 52 The Thirteenth Station ... 54 Testimony 55 z THE DIVINE IMAGE A BOOK OF LYRICS THE BREKZE- ' ' Something touched me as I walked Beneath the silent trees — A soft caress against my lips — It may have been a breeze; But with it came the thought of you And all you've grown to mean. A wandering wind, — or was it you: A messenger unseen? The bright new leaves grew very still; They did not dance or play. Nor did my heart — for, in a breath, The breeze had gone away. [I] 0VER NIGHT, A ROSE That over night a rose could come I, one time did believe, For when the fairies live with one, They wilfully deceive. But now I know this perfect thing Under the frozen sod In cold and storm grew patiently Obedient to God. My wonder grows, since knowl- edge came Old fancies to dismiss; And courage comes. Was not the rose A winter doing this? Nor did it know, the weary while, What color and perfume With this completed loveliness Lay in that earthy tomb. [2] So maybe I, who cannot see What God wills not to show, May, some day, bear a rose for Him It took my life to grow. [3] THE COWARD It lies before my wounded feet: The cross I am to bear. Blocking my path, it frightens me To see it lying there. And yet I dare not turn away, Nor yet dare go around. God ! give me strength to carry it : The thing upon the ground 1 [4] WHEN DARKNESS COV- ERED THE EARTH Blood-guilty with blood of the Sinless One And tortured by memory, Three wretched men, ere the night had run, Travelled from Calvary. Sharing their grief and bitter fear, (Since hatred had gone with the sun!) Shudderingly, each man asked to hear What work the others had done. ^*I am the one who plaited The crown of briar and thorn. God! how His hair was matted! God! how His head was torn!" [S] ^^And I, when He asked, denied Him A* draught from my brimming grail." ^Woe, woe — unto me, I despised Him And drave through His hand the nail." [6] CLOUDS (A child speaks) Those fleecy, white and floating things They are the backs of angels' wings. They can't be impolite, you know, And turn to look on us below, But always keep their faces toward Our Lady Mary and the Lord. Yet, I can guess what lovely things Are hidden by those angel-wings. [7] THE COURTYARD PIGEONS Dear birds, that flutter happily Against the grey stone wall, That hides the joyous sun from me, Do you not hear my call? Each weary day when you go past To strut and perch up there, — Or when you soar away so fast, I watch you, — and I care : For, in your iridescent flight. My eyes have learned to see How, in this strange and man- made night. One thing, at least, goes free. And do you know what you have taught In low and cooing cries? [8] Though much is gone, they have not bought The part of me that flies! [9] MARY FITTON, TO MASTER WILL SHAKESPEARE ''The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman col- or d ill. To win m.e soon to hell, m,y fe- male evil Tempteth my better angel from my side And would corrupt my saint to be a devil Wooing his purity with her foul pride/' So long a time, and is it fair to keep My image darkened in your bitter word That stabs my heart, though dust, as if a sword [lO] Turned there to wound, and made the wound more deep? Had I been foul, would both your angels weep? Though the times spurned, to me a singing bird Your vision came in music my being heard Color'd with Prosperous island- haunted sleep. Why was I blind, when most I wished to see — Accepting less than what was tossed away: Unknowing then, this world beyond what seems — This world from which you have exiled me? Around your moods, I, as your angel, play; And am a part of all your greatest dreams! [II] MY HEART IS FULL OF VAGRANT SONGS My heart is full of vagrant songs That, flashing to and fro, Escape the words which covet them And tease me as they go. But in the woods they seldom come; Underneath the trees My songs are silent, for I hear More lovely sounds than these. The stream is dashing over rocks : Two voices can be heard. From where the green is still and thick Come the love-notes of a bird. [12] MATER SALVATORIS Against thy breast and covered with thy hair Christ Jesus lay, for God so trusted thee His only Son was born — dear mystery ! — A helpless Baby, needing all thy care. Sweet Mary, was He even then aware — The little Saviour shepherds came to see In Bethlehem — that to His Calvary Thy love must follow and His Passion share? And ever since, each sinner is thy child For whom thy tender pity doth beseech ; [13] My Blessed Lady, take me to my Brother. He would forgive, if only once He smiled: With memories, His heart of mercy reach, For God is Love and thou — thou art His Mother. [14] WANTING SO THE FACE DIVINE To M Wanting so the Face divine, I searched within this soul of mine, But there the Image is so dim: Unlike, unlike, it seems to Him. Weary of heart, with faith grown weak. Again, the vanished Face I seek. Lo! in my need, God sends me thee: And from thy soul. He smiles on me! [15] THE LITTLE MAID Three Saints of Heaven wanted, long ere thy life began, One perfect little earth-child and asked God for thee, Jeanne. Saint Michael, strong and valiant; Saint Margaret, mother, queen; Saint Catherine, virgin, saw thee, a little maid, thirteen. Then each one came to visit thee, bewildered, frightened child, And each one gave a gift most rare to still thy heart so wild. Saint Catherine kept thee chaste and sweet; Saint Michael, like a man; Thy beauty, courage, strength of soul, Saint Margaret mothered, Jeanne. Each Saint so loved thee each one stayed a constant guardian . . . Ti6] They saved thee for the Sacred Breast whose Heart most loves thee, Jeanne! [17] MAGIC A world transformed! There flashes One vivifying gleam: My heart, the tabernacle, I, warder of the Dream. [i8] REALISM Did planning bugs and toads and worms Make the Creator sad? Well, at the Thought of wooded hills, I think that God was glad. 1 19] WOULD THE SKY BE BEAUTIFUL? Would the sky be beautiful if it were not blue; And if the grass were not so green Would crocuses peep through? Suppose the morn came silently Without this burst of song; And had we never loved, my dear, Would all our days seem long? But God has made the sky all blue ; The grass a vivid green; While just beneath the softened mold, A garden grows unseen. And I — I call thee through the dawn When birds awake to sing: Oh, Life is full of mystery : Beloved, it is Spring! [20] ALL THAT I LOVE All that I love lies sleeping Under a new-made mound. To-night I see the sky again: And the moon is nearly round. [21] ^^VIVE LA FRANCE!" In a crowded car we crossed the bridge, Packed in like silly sheep With more than one resenting A rudely broken sleep. The river slowly sullen, The sky a sordid grey, And drizzling rain combined to make A dull and cheerless day. Arrestingly, we saw it: A poorly printed scrawl In chalk which stood out clearly Against an old black wall. Life suddenly grew vital In one, swift, thrilling glance: A heart and soul had blazoned there The letters : 'ViVE La France!'' [22] DURANCE My friend, God-given with the years, This night of agony Too deep and sharp for words or tears, I offer all for thee. Where is the feeling heart of me? A thing of stone lies there: Can waiting, helpless misery And speechless grief be prayer? [23] CHIPS On brooks and rivers, creeks and streams, Were logs and rafts and chips afloat; But on some shore, dreaming its dreams, A worthless chip said: ^^I'm a boat. To mid-stream waters I must go; Here the eddies only play. There I'll feel the ebb and flow. I think I'll make the trip today." Yet, the shore line held it fast, Helpless, hopeless, always twirled, And the hurrying boats went past While the chip unceasing swirled. Then he came — a little child — To the bank to sail a ship [24] And, with rapture almost wild, He saw one in the lonely chip. With boyish, laughing, shouting joy He worked to set the new boat loose ; It sailed, a bobbing, happy toy — A chip that realized its use. And I, a woman, idly float Quite near the shore, a useless chip. I pray a Child who wants a boat Believes I am His waiting ship. [25] CERTAINTY Sleep, darling, in my arms Nestled close against my breast. Here you're safe from all harms, And so, we both know rest. Your roughened head fills so well The warm nest God made to fit; Your soft flesh, relaxing, fell Clinging and content in it. Your sweet, moist breath, and each start Tell me of the coming goal. Selfish I press to my heart The body of the dreaming soul, (Begging so) and whisper lowly, Wanting a good-bye from you, And the heavy lids lift slowly : ^^Yes; me lub you. Sure I do!" [26] AFTER DARK When muzzer and me go up the stairs, I undress quick and say my prayers. And den, when all of dem is said, And jes' before I hop in bed. My muzzer and me, we has a chat; We hug and kiss — I 'member dat. I'm almost t'ree and getting tall — An' after dat, — why dat is all! [27] COST Little Boy in the manger Who saved a world from woe, Did You lie there freezing? She could not have it so! Snuggled against her throbbing breast, Wrapped in her own soft hair, Warmth You shared with every breath, Happy and peaceful there. But when You left her shielding arms, Saviour of fallen men. Bitter cold You did endure, — She could not warm You then! She could not warm Your Body; She could not bear Your Rod ; She bore, instead, a bleeding heart. Oh, were we worth it, God? [28] CRY OF THE CHILDLESS My baby never came! He is but dream and name! These empty arms so curve and ache Feed their hunger. For Christ's sake Lift this grief, of me a part, From my lonely breaking heart Let my breasts his pressure feel! God of Pity, make him real! [29] PROTEST Handmaid of a swift machine, She acts her weary part; While loud above the clanging noise Beats her rebellious heart. Poor prisoner! it pleads for life With protest ceaseless, strong. Against these sterile, empty years So endless and so wrong! She is denied her rightful task, Debarred from Nature's plan : A fettered slave of a machine, Not mother of a man! [30] SHACKLED In stress and strain and whirr of things That complicate life so, We hide an instinct's perfect wings And dare not let them show. They know, — the bush, the bird, the bee, — Their part, so old, yet new; Do all things know, save you and me, The work that they must do? The prayerful wish for work denied Has set my spirit free. If but, for i|S, 'twere simplified As for that budding tree. [31] TO MY VICTROLA Within this mute Victrola lie strangely prisoned joysl ''Not music"? Well, what is it? . . . How can you call it ''noise." When twilight comes to hurt me with memories I fear, (For we were once so happy and now — he is not here) I bid this friend of melody the stabbing silence break And in the dusk, it comforts me and lessens sorrow's ache. I hear James Whitcomb Riley his quaintest story tell; Or Schubert leads my heart within some eerie, woodland dell. When Gadski sings the "Ave," great Gounod's music-prayer. My soul seeks out "Maria" and asks for strength to bear; [32] Or Melba sings the lovely songs of many years ago ; And, for a change, there is a waltz from Victor Herbert's show ; Then Lauder sings of lassies and other Scottish folk Until we hum the lilting air and chuckle at his joke. If very brave, I listen to Caruso's maddened cry: /^Aida! ah. Celeste!" he sobs; so, in my heart, do I ! There's Kreisler and Maud Powell; the love-songs from ^^Boheme" And ^ ^ Butterfly" ; with lesser things we know without their name. Each record brings its different mood. When gone, — the lin- gering light,— [33] And stars come flickering through the dark and it is nearly night, I want a bit of Chopin with pas- sion's throbbing spell, Where, even in his ^^Funebre," it only ebbs to swell. Then, at the close, McCormack who tenderly will sing A ballad of his Ireland and make '^God bless you!" ring, For if I close my burning eyes^ another man I see And through the dark, I feel his arms, and — ^^hear him calling me!" "Not music?" This: the power whose poignant, piercing tone Can baffle night and loneliness until I'm not alone? [34] RODIN'S ^^HAND OF GOD'^ It is God's great Hand Holding two He planned. They, from all else whirled, One in the other furled, Fill the only place Their own in vast space. With arms tightly clasped. Love's mystery is unasked. Life to life is given.^ — Marble, man-riven! [35] HIS WOMAN In the pale, murmuring dawn she lay- Alone, with nothing more to lose. Her eyes one soft white arm espied And lips too tired to voice her pride Caressed and kissed a bruise. [36] TRADITION Above, about, they flutter: Dim hands of women long since dead Who touch me lovingly. These women of my ancient line. Each with her part in me, Are banded now against myself — The self I want to be. Frightened, they beg me to re- turn; And, clutching, hold me so! — Help me escape these phantom hands : Beloved, must I go? [37] THE SISTERS Only to blur it: the vision! Only to feel less alive To be freed from this wish to surrender Against which I always must strive. To cease, for one instant, this thinking ; To know only joy, — and not sin. Unwelcome one guest: the grey stranger Who came when my Love en- tered in. Why need my heart fight against me? For succor, I reach out my hand To her whom they stoned in Samaria . . . God! how we two understand! [38] THE HUNGRY Whom does He love the most — The poor, the sick, the blind. The rich, the maimed, the host Unknowingly unkind? The ones who strive, and fail; The ones who have, and lose ; The ones who will not quail Nor martyrdom refuse? The wind went sobbing low To His great Heart and cried: ^^Dear God, they need you so,— Who die unsatisfied." [39] BEFORE THE DAWN At night, sweetheart, I am with thee, For dreaming sleep unfetters me; And, when released, my soul goes where Her truest, purest thought may dare. Reluctantly, she comes away — A captive to the bonds of day — And leaves one lovely word un- said : Dear, must it wait till we are dead? [40] THE INTERLOPER She played with Love: the little god. This pink and chubby boy Was asking soon to own her heart, For Love will have his toy. Then bolder waxed the prankish Love Before he stole away; Nor has he yet returned the heart She cries for night and day. A strange, strong man withholds it now, — A man of flame and fire! — Love is full-grown : the little god In manhood, is Desire. [41] PROFICIENT One time I feared (before I knew The man you've grown to be) That you would never understand This complicated me. That fear is dead! Another one As urgent, bids me tell: When you are listening to my heart, You understand too well ! [42] MATED At last I see him undisguised — Unkind, unclean, uncouth, — Deceiving dream, come back and hide The terror of the truth. [43] ABSENCE All melody comes to me muted; All time — one eternal, dull day! The heavens and earth have been looted : The soul of my world is away! [44] TOLL Love seemed a fearsome foe! Alarmed, Her breast she guarded 'gainst his dart. Love came, a laughing god, un- armed. And slipped two hands beneath her heart. But, all the while. Love played his game: The happy time he made his stay,— Though empty-handed when he came. Not so, the Love that went away. [45] THE CHANGELING Until you came, he lived with me : My dream-child to be born some day; And, with our hopes, so happily The boy and I once dared to play. But now, when he has grown so real — This child who would become your son ! — My trembling flesh shrinks from the feel Of him — poor, little, wistful one. So, from my breast your babe I tear (God! if I dared to let him stay!) [46] And strangle what I must not bear: Nor shall you drag my hands away! [47] THE CONJURER Dear little one, with tender heart You gave to me a kiss unsought And in a sudden holiness, I felt the sacred gift it brought. With bending soul, I signed the cross — That blessing which begins my prayer — Because thy seeking baby lips Discovered mine and rested there. From out the potent, silent dusk My own dream-children came and smiled. You were not then, as now you are: Another woman's little child. [48] REAPING My son and I together saw The man (for whom I blindly bore This child, who never should have been) Slip down the fatal road of sin. For dying Love, there are no cries. God ! help me look into these eyes. Too pure for pity, where I see: 'Why, mother, were you false to me?" [49] THE RANSOM He did not know (nor would he care,) What blocked the road to Hell; And yet he found it lying there When, striking it, he fell. But he divined that he must go Over the road he came, And turning left it broken so, Unconscious of his shame. A woman (seeming from the dead,) After he did depart. Came where the road was stained with red, And, stooping, touched her heart. [50] ACHIEVEMENT The biggest thing I ever did Was all inside of me. There was a battle, hardly won^ With only God to see. When I plucked out a flaming brand Whose evil light shone through, The place it burned was black and charred . . . But no one ever knew! [51] THE SACRIFICE On Calvary, when Christ was dy- ing, A woman bitterly was crying To Michael of the flaming sword : '^Command thy host! Avenge the LordT' And Michael, waiting the One call, Watched and suffered through it all. Then, while he stood with sword unsheathed, The tortured God His Law be- queathed : ^^ Forgive thy brother from thy heart; I ask of thee the greater part." Though Hell itself the death de- nounced. [52] Saint Michael all revenge re- nounced. So, bitterly the woman cried On Calvary, — for Jesus died. [53] THE THIRTEENTH STATION Once you journeyed with Him, Mary — With your Son Who died for me — ' Sharing all He had to suffer On the way to Calvary. With the expiation over, When they laid Him on your breast, Did a little gladness tremble That, at last, your Son could rest? Mother Mary, had you comfort Though He lay there, dead and torn, Taking from the Head of Jesus That embedded crown of thorn? [54] TESTIMONY I stood on guard in Pilate's court the day they brought Him there, — A beaten Man Who wore a crown of thorns with regal air. I watched while Pilate sentenced Him to suffering and death ; He stood alone and motionless with calm and even breath. To die is not an easy thing, yet that is what He heard; Then, turning 'round. He looked at us but never said a word. One of the guard, I went along, though I had asked to stay. And it was I who walked with Him through all that awful day. He took the cross in silence, — a clumsy, wooden thing, — [55] And looked, absorbed and listen- ing, toward birds that dared to sing. The way was rough and stony for feet so bare and white; His hair was clotted thick with blood which blinded half His sight. The first time that He staggered beneath His heavy load, We cursed and beat and kicked Him as He fell upon the road; But when His Mother came to Him, He straightened up and smiled And whispered something as He passed, as though she were His child. But after that He needed help — so, fearing that He might die, We called the strong man, Simon, who was idly standing nigh. [S6] One woman named Veronica came near to wipe His face; Then suddenly she kissed the cloth and hurried from the place. It seemed for miles — we travelled on; the sun grew hot and then With one sharp, little moan of pain, the Man fell down again. Soon after noon we met a group of women; they all cried And some drew close; He touched a child in passing and He sighed. To each He gave some comfort. On leaving them, He fell And then I heard some muttered words, — one Heaven, and one Hell. On Calvary, we stripped Him, — a fine, well-muscled Man, — [57] And when we threw Him on the cross, the hammering began. I am no girl, — I've killed my men — my record's brave and clean ; But courage such as this Man showed, I never yet have seen. We finished nailing through the hands ; — the feet required one nail, . . . He never deigned to cry aloud; He knew not how to fail. But when we raised the cross up- right. He saw a grove of trees And eyes half-blind from agony smiled at the young green leaves. We stood around to listen, for from the cross He spoke; The sorrow which He seemed to feel was all for other folk. [58] Three hours He hung dying . . . I scarcely dare to think Of all that time. He begged me once to let Him have a drink; And once He called His Father . . . and afterward, came peace. When He sank dead upon the cross, why should I feel release? As they drew near, — His follow- ers, the Mother and the rest, — The beauty they call Magdalen wept loud and struck her breast; The others tried to talk to her of Jesus and His laws, But she would not be comforted and cried: ^^I am the cause!" A man called John was cherish- ing the Mother while she wept. Each one of these seemed far away; they were as if they slept. But when they took Him from the cross, her arms were opened wide, — [59] And then again we saw the blood still flowing from His side. She held Him tight against her breast the while she sobbed and said: "Heart of my Heart, I under- stand; and can be glad You're dead!" They placed Him in the sepul- chre (I watched until the close) ; The Man lay dead almost three days; but afterward — He rose! [60] •J/ gj kA^^ vi -g YA 06044 & 402193 UNIVERSITY OF CAUFORNIA UBRARY