GIFT OF Class of 1900 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS AND OTHER POEMS BOOKS BY EDWIN MARKHAM " The Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems " . . $1.00 Frontispiece, Millet s famous painting of the Hoe Man " The Man with the Hoe, and Other Poems " . . 2.00 With illustrations by Howard Pyle "The Man with the Hoe, with Notes by the Author" 50 " Lincoln, and Other Poems " i.oo Frontispiece, portrait of Lincoln " The Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems " (New) i .20 " California the Wonderful " 2.50 Profusely illustrated (New) " Children in Bondage " : The Child Labor Problem 1.50 (New) <THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS AND OTHER POEMS THE THIRD BOOK OF VERSE BY EDWIN MARKHAM AUTHOR OF "THE MAN WITH THE HOE, AND OTHER POEMS," ETC. GARDEN CITY NEW YORK DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY Copyright, ipij, by CENTURY Co. Copyright, 1915, by EDWIN MARKHAM All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign languages^ including the Scandinavian 5 (( Al/^j TO ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH FAR KINSWOMAN, NEAR FRIEND, GREAT POET 322563 PUBLISHER S NOTE This is Edwin Markham s first volume of verse after a silence of fourteen years. The volume was announced under the title of "Virgilia and Other Poems," but, at the last moment, it is thought best to make (( The Shoes of Happiness" (from the recent Christmas Century) the titular poem. "Virgilia" will be found on an early page. It attracted wide attention and caused prolonged discussion on its first appearance was violently attacked in print and enthusiastically defended. The sequel to "Vir gilia" called "The Homing Heart," on its first appearance, is called in these pages "The Crowning Hour." There is a notable timeliness about many of the poems: those under "Social Vision" and "War and Peace" have a special interest in the personal unrest among the nations. The poems in this volume have appeared in various American and English periodicals chiefly in The Century, The Cosmopolitan, Collier s Weekly, Nautilus Magazine, The Youth s Companion, The Delineator, The Independent, The Semi-Monthly vii PUBLISHER S NOTE Magazine, The Christian Herald, The New York American, The New York Herald, The London Express. " The Juggler of Touraine," the narrative poem on page 30, is founded on an old legend, the most re markable of the medieval legends of the Madonna. It can be found in a little volume called "Our Lady s Tumbler," translated from the old French by Isabel Butler, and also in a little story from the skilful pen of Anatole France. There are other variants of the legend, and all have helped in the present rendering. Mr. Markham has made free with the old legend, suppressing parts and adding both color and incident from his own invention. This Markhamic version is the first appearance of the legend in modern verse. viii CONTENTS VOLUNTARIES PAGE OUTWITTED I THE GRAY NORNS 2 THE SONG MYSTERY 3 WIND AND LYRE 4 VILLON 5 I SIX STORIES THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS 9 THE JUGGLER OF TOURAINE 30 HOW OSWALD DINED WITH GOD 47 THE CUP OF PRIDE $1 HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME 56 THE ACCUSING GOLD 6l II LOVE AND YOUTH VIRGILIA 65 THE CROWNING HOUR 74 LION AND LIONESS 82 III GREEN HILLS AND WINDY WAYS AT FRIENDS WITH LIFE 85 WIND ON THE RYE 87 ON THE SUISUN HILLS 88 THE HEART S RETURN gi ix x CONTENTS IV SCRIPT FOR THE JOURNEY PAGE MAN-TEST 95 THE PILGRIM 97 THE DEEP OF GOD 98 VICTORY IN DEFEAT 99 THE HIDDEN GLACIER IOO A WORKMAN TO THE GODS IOI REVELATION IO 2 "SHINE ON ME, SECRET SPLENDOR" 103 ANCHORED TO THE INFINITE 104 ONE MUSIC 105 SWUNG TO THE VOID IO6 THE PLACE OF PEACE I O 8 REST IN FLIGHT 109 THEY WAIT FOR YOU HO RECORDS IN THE JUDGMENT BOOK ..... Ill V SOCIAL VISION EARTH IS ENOUGH 115 CONSCRIPTS OF THE DREAM Il6 THE TESTIMONY OF THE DUST Il8 THE BARD I2O THE CHATEAU BAGATELLE 122 THE FEAR FOR THEE, MY COUNTRY 124 THE RIGHT TO LABOR IN JOY 126 THE PERIL OF EASE 128 A COMRADE CALLED BACK I2Q FREEDOM 132 THE JEWS 134 LOVE S HERO-WORLD 138 COURAGE, ALL! 140 CONTENTS xi VI WAR AND PEACE PACK THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES 143 AN APRIL GREETING 146 VII PERSONS AND PLACES SAINT PATRICK 153 A FRIEND OF THE FIELDS 157 CONSECRATED GROUND l6o THE FRIENDLY DOOR 164 MANHATTAN l66 SAN FRANCISCO FALLING 169 SAN FRANCISCO ARISING I7O VIII THE HERO OF THE CROSS THE LORD OF ALL 175 THE CONSECRATION OF THE COMMON WAY 177 THE SONG OF THE MAGI 179 THE GARDEN OF THE SEPULCHER 182 AFTER THE SEPULCHER . . l86 VOLUNTARIES OUTWITTED He drew a circle that shut me out Heretic, rebel, a thing to flout. But Love and I had the wit to win: We drew a circle that took him in! THE GRAY NORNS What do you bring in your sacks, Gray Girls? "Sea-sand and sorrow." What is that mist that behind you whirls? "The souls of to-morrow." What are those shapes on the windy coasts ? "The dead souls going." But what are the loads on the backs of the ghosts? "The seed of their sowing." THE SONG MYSTERY If it touches the heart of a Poet, The gods and the ages will know it; For over the waters and crags of time The winds of the world will blow it. If ever the Bard shall bring it, The hands of the Fates will wing it; And lo, it will travel from world to world, Till the kings of Orion sing it! WIND AND LYRE Thou art the wind and I the lyre: Strike, Wind, on the sleeping strings Strike till the dead heart stirs and sings ! I am the altar and thou the fire: Burn, Fire, to a snowy flame Burn me clean of the mortal blame! I am the night and thou the dream: Touch me softly and thrill me deep, When all is white on the hills of sleep. Thou art the moon and I the stream: Shine to the trembling heart of me, Light my soul to the mother-sea. VILLON HE STILL COMPLAINETH OF HIS PITEOUS PLIGHT Here am I now in a piteous plight, Doused and dour in a hell, you see; For I slipt and fell in the mortal fight: I was one, but the Fates were three! I lived the life of the kites and crows Up in the boughs of a tossing tree, And went to the wind as a dead leaf goes: I was one, but the Fates were three! Light were the touches of lip to lip, But grim the wrestle for bread, pardie, So the feet would slide and the fingers slip: I was one, but the Fates were three! s THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Here are Lais and Lesbia, too, Ladies that once were the world to me : Now they are less than the foam that flew A man is one, but the Fates are three! SIX STORIES THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS THE EVENTFUL STORY OF THE SULTAN MAHMOUD AND OF HALIL, THE GRAND VIZIER It was green of April, it was morn In Istamboul on the Golden Horn, Where down the hill and the crooked shore The cypress sorrows evermore. The white Seraglio s marble piles Gleamed ghostly down the silver miles. There mosque and palace and grove and fort Neighbor in many a glorious court. Three are the portals that shut it in, Hushed and afar from the world s great din; Nine are the nightingale gardens there That hang all night in a moon-white air; Fifty the fountains of silver leap, THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Whose sound is soft as the listless flow Of streams that forever linger and go Down delicate, dream-far valleys of sleep. At the heart of it all, like a lily s gold, Is a gorgeous chamber, I have been told, Whose walls are lighted by lattice bars, Whose roof is pricked by a thousand stars. This is the room that the great Mahmoud Bolted from Grief and her jangling brood. Slant to the walls were the fifty shields That bragged of the fifty battlefields Where his flag had streamed as a meteor red, And his name hung dark as a thunder- head. Those thirty keys, in their bloody rust, Were the thirty towns he had turned to dust. He had harvested all that pleased his eye All but the moon in the evening sky. Lands and ladies and ships and herds, He gathered them in as a flock of birds; And his coffers were heaped by his sword s renown Till no one could hammer the covers down. IO THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Marbles from Delos, stones from Thrace, He plundered to build him a pleasure- place. Pillars from Ephesus propped the dome Of the gilded mosque and the hippodrome; Shafts of porphyry Baalbec gave To build the porch of his pampered slave. Glory and pleasure, splendor and power, He gulped them all in his golden hour. II But a change came over the great sultan, And the world with a trembling rumor ran ; For it happed in the leafy youth of the year The Seraglio gloomed with a sudden fear. The demon of doldrums, without salute, Had slipped by eunuch and cat-eyed mute, And all were tiptoeing, holding their breath, For the sultan lay on the edge of death. Wearily there he had lain for hours On his cushion soft as a heap of flowers, THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Till the harem ladies, distraught, dis tressed, Came fluttering out of their fragrant nest, Light as the lily, fleet as the fawn, Caught in the colors that tremble at dawn. Halima laved with her delicate hand His brow with the attar of Samarkand; Barakah, robed in an ocean green, Tinkled the bells of her tambourine; The slim Circassian, Malkhatoon, Danced as light as a wave-caught moon; A (if a with odorous peacock fan "Wafted a zephyr to his divan. Zelica sang with her pomegranate lips, Sweet as the comb when the honey drips, And her bosom shook like a rose-tree stirred By the trembling grief of a singing bird. Then Jehun-Era, the Golden Tongue (Her heart was a harp by the houris strung, Her mind was a hive with stories packed), Told him of cities besieged and sacked Told him tales of the great Haroun, Where bulbuls sing to a dreaming moon, 12 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And lovers and ladies forever fair Are caught in the coil of a sweet despair. But never once, so the books aver, Did a finger move or an eyelid stir Of the great Mahmoud. Then the cooks began To bake and boil for the sick sultan. Yes, the nineteen cooks in the kitchen skurred, And each foot flew like a startled bird, Till the slaves came up in quick relays, With bowls and platters on silver trays. There were pastries frail as the melting mist, Rosette, crescent, and caraway twist; A jelly that quaked in a golden jar; Grapes from the valley of Kandahar; Coffee that smoked in an Osman bowl, Brew for body and beauty for soul; Sherbet cooled by the Tartary snows, And fragrant now as the Kashmir rose; Almonds sugared, and peaches spiced; A citron candied, an orange sliced; Rice from Cyprus, and figs from Pars; Melons from under the Syrian stars; 13 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS A fish from the Nile; a lamb from Thrace; And a larded lark that I cannot trace. But never once, so the gossips say, Did the rose-sweet bowl or the smoking tray, Did the frosted brew or the spicy food, Draw a single glance of the great Mah- moud. So Leylah, with delicate touches, packed The long-stem pipe that the long day lacked; And, lighting it, drew from the golden leaf One waft of the white smoke, death-of- grief. But he scorned the pipe with a withering eye As he heaved a deep Vesuvian sigh. Anyhow, this is the word that ran When the world s eye wept for the sick sultan. Ill So they bore him now to the Mosque, hard put For the holy rub of the Dervish foot; 14 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS For a Dervish toe, well warmed in the dance, Can cure more ails than the philters of France. They carried him next to the praying- floor, To touch the pillar that once of yore The Prophet jostled from ground to rafter, And left it sweating the ages after. And then they tore from the Koran s page A verse approved by a master mage, Burned it, and gave him the ash to drink; But still he hung on the ghostly brink. Now the barber came running to let his blood, While the doctors were brewing from leaf and bud, And mixing him many a toothsome grog, And rubbing with camphor and cacagogue. Then they poked their heads into all the books, Scanning the pages with learned looks Galen and Rhazes and Ibn Zohr And great Avicen all the curious lore THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Of the palsies and cankers, the phlegms and chills, With the balms and catholicons routing the ills. But the aches and irks are a tricksy brood : Whatever was done, they would still elude, And the megrims stuck to the great Mahmoud. The doctors sighed, for I m told by three That the thirteen doctors did agree Agree that their physic was no avail For the great sultan with the stubborn ail. Then one leech said (he was born too soon By a hundred year and perhaps a moon) One leech dared hint that a bright-swung ax Had a help for him that the pill-bag lacks. At this Mahmoud, from his aching bed, Cried: "Off with the leech and his learned head! And the rest of you fade from the eyes of us, Over the miles to the Caucasus! Out of our realm to a new abode, And let it be by the shortest road!" 16 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And this is why, at the crack of dawn, The twelve great doctors got them gone, Glad enough that their heads were on. And they went in a string, with their books and pills, Footing it fast toward the frontier hills, Nor looked once back to the Grand Bazaar As they drank the miles toward the morn ing star. Now emirs and agas, effendis and sheiks, Stand pulling their whiskers with rueful tweaks; The dwarfs have lost their old delight; The Nubian guards are statues of night; The slaves are tremors, the ladies are tears, For the black camel Death on the rim appears. But suddenly in from the harem creeps The sibylline crone who never sleeps. The word of her mouth is a cryptic thing, For she wears on her finger King Solomon s ring. 17 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS She raises her arms, and she cries aloud: " I lift from the palace the darkening shroud. Mahmoud the Mighty, may Allah exalt, And send only friends to eat your salt! Mahmoud, rummage the east and west For the shoes of a mortal wholly blest; For only by this can you break the ban: You must wear the shoes of a happy man." Then shouted the sultan, "Ho, Vizier, I need those shoes: let the shoes be here!" Then his voice ran low so a beast grows still As he stiffens his cords for the leap to kill- "Go forth, Vizier, when the dawn is red, And bring me the shoes; or send instead, By the hand of this trusted slave, your head!" IV The bulbuls sang in the camphor-tree, As the grand vizier, with a trusted three, 18 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Threaded his way toward the noisy mart To find a man with a happy heart A man that a sorrow had never stung, A man that a memory never wrung. Long, drowsily long, a late cock crew As the Gate of Happiness let them through. "Now," said Halil to the other three, " Keep your eyes alert, for the shoes should be Well peppered with pearls for a sultan s eye; So now to the rich, where the joy runs high. On, camels, on with a swifter spring, Set the boughs astir and the bells aswing; For I would be home ere the shadows fall To feed my doves on the garden wall." At the road s first turn what should they see But a swarm of the folk of high degree, Rolling away at the crack of morn For light-heart hours on the Golden Horn. 19 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS One by one, like a flower afloat, The arabas rolled toward a rainbow boat. So the vizier cried, and his words were brief, "How many are here with never a grief?" Alas! but the thorn pricks ever the rose, And they all were pricked by wants and woes. In each glad heart was a wistful cry; Behind each joy was a secret sigh. Now he turned from the rich and their hap less store, And journeyed away to the poor man s door: "Ho, Hassan, ho! you have children seven : Is your gate not joy, is your hut not heaven?" The poor man answered: "Ah, Vizier, I have seven sweet joys, but I have one fear: The dread of to-morrow ever is here. When my hand has work, then the mouths are fed ; When the work-staff breaks, then I wish me dead." 20 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS So they jolted on down the greening acres: There were strolling fluters and travelling fakers; There were women peering from lattice screens; Pickers bent in the blossoming beans; Wood-cutters bearing their shining tools; Slaves asleep on their lazing mules. To all one question, and one reply, For each heart carried its secret sigh. All, all had grief save a laughing boy Too glad to know that he lived in joy. His little worn shoes they danced and ran, But they were too small for the sick sultan. On down the road, by a sycamore tree, A poet was weaving a rosy rhyme, A song to sing in the ear of Time, When Mahmoud s galleys and gates shall be A drifted dust by the silver sea: "Many the winds that shake the rose, Many the reeds where the river goes, Many the waves that wrinkle the sea; But only one love for me, for me! 21 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS "A thousand fancies may visit the heart, A thousand shadows of time depart, A thousand dreams may come to thee; But only one love for me, for me!" Over his shoulder the vizier peered. " Tis a happy song, by the Prophet s beard ! Tell me, rhymer, and quick with the word, Are you not glad as a mated bird?" "No," sighed the poet; "you do me wrong, For sorrow is ever the nest of song. Out of the grieving the poet sings: The rock is cleft, and the bright well springs." V So the vizier cried: "Go, camels, go, But not to the high and not to the low." Through the Grand Bazaar he pushed his way, As a galley shears through the silver spray. There were rosy veils for the waiting bride, Whips of the hippopotamus hide, 22 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Necklets of ruby, girdles of jade, Anklets of silver with pearls inlaid, Silks and sandalwood, feathers and furs, Henna and cinnamon, nards and myrrhs These and a thousand were his to choose, But none could give him the happy shoes. It was azan hour as they neared the Mosque; Muezzins were loud on the high kolosk. Idlers and toilers from everywhere Were stretched, face down, for the even ing prayer. Over them floated, spacious and high, The airy dome, like another sky; And a silver cresset was swinging there Soft as a moon in a misty air. Thick as the reeds where the herons drink, Were the people that crowded the plashy brink Of the fountain spilling its silver sound And wafting the cool of it over the ground. Packers were filling their water-skins ; Venders were chafing the day with dins; 23 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Porters were easing their sweaty backs, Their bodies crooked with the wrenches and racks; Beggars were crying, with rattling dish, "Bismillah!" to all and a thrifty wish. -y In through the clamors the grand vizier Went crying his question to every ear; But each had his sorrow, his folly, his fear. There was ever the shrug and ever the nay: The young were restless that youth should stay, The old were sad that it went away. A scrivener, scratching with busy reed, Was writing a song for a lover s need; And the words that over the vellum ran Were sweet as the roses of Luristan. "Ah," smiled Halil, "here are youth and love: There is nothing more in the stars above. Here are song and dream : what more can bs In the palaces under the sounding sea? 24 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Ho, lover ! Look from your sweet employ : Is there any grief in your house of joy?" "Yes, yes; for love is a tower of fears, A joy half torment, a heaven half tears. I mind me now how her bosom shook That day dog Abdul stopped to look. Her veil had dropped for his peering eye, Yet never a wind had blown it by." VI So the seekers pushed to the noisy Khan, Where Jaffer, the teller of tales, began For the fortieth time, as he waved his sleeves, The hazardous tale of the Forty Thieves. The long-stem pipe and the steaming cup Were sending a hundred vapors up; Yet quick with his word Halil began, And over the tavern his question ran. But Hassan, the merchant, opened his lips Only to sigh for his sunken ships; Ali, the driver, was quick to speak Of his bride that fled with a hated Greek; 25 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Yusuf moped, and his words were few, As he told of the debt on the morrow due; Al Mansur sighed for his lost career, For once he had visions of being vizier. Soldiers back from the battle sang, Rollicked and roared till the tavern rang; But, ah, at a thought their eyes would fill For comrades left on the battle-hill. And sailors home from an ocean run Laughed and lurched, but never a one From the frozen fiord to the palmy reef Had heard of a mortal without a grief. Then Selim, the student, looked up to speak: 6 Vizier, I know him, the sage you seek. He is here, just come with the caravan Homing from Mecca, a happy man. Honors and riches are his by right, And he faces the world with a look of light." But the pilgrim answered with star-still eyes: "I am not glad; I am only wise. 26 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS You seek for the happy? The quest is mad, For all things crumble and all is sad." Then a voice rang clear from a noisy rout Where the cups were letting the laughters out: "Not so; for I know of a happy man, But he is afar in Ispahan." So the four went rocking on camel hoof, And halted at last by the happy roof. The vizier spoke, and his words were brief : "Are you a mortal with never a grief?" The stranger saluted and made reply: "Not I, by the holy beard! for I Am bent by a sorrow that ever has been Since they carried my son to the low green inn. Yet they tell of a man who is ever glad, But he is afar in old Bagdad." Now they flew light-foot on the new found track, To the man in the city of wonder. Alack! 27 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS He also carried a sorrow-pack. Yet he told of a rumor from far Algiers Of a man who never had tasted tears. So off they went rocking by desert wells, Cheered on by the sound of the camel- bells, Till out on the road where the hot hours ran They were told by the chief of a caravan That the man was dead the one glad man! VII Now all went black for the grand vizier, And he turned toward home with a trick ling tear. But as he came, with his grim regrets, To the home sky speared by the minarets, And as, one by one, on the purple rim The domes of the city began to swim, Hark! suddenly over the hush of morn Came a fluting note from a field of corn, Where a man, stretched out with his arm for pillow, Blew thin, sweet sounds from a pipe of willow. 28 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS The laughter-lines had scribbled his face, And his limbs lay long with a flowing grace. "Ho," cried Halil, "I am seeking one Whose days are all in a brightness run. "Then I am he, for I have no lands, Nor have any gold to crook my hands. Favor nor fortune nor fame have I, And I only ask for a road and a sky These, and a pipe of the willow-tree To whisper the music out of me." Out into the field the vizier ran. "Allah-il-Allah! but you are the man; Your shoes, then, quick, for the great sultan Quick, and all fortunes are yours to choose!" "Yes, mighty Vizier . . . but I have no shoes." THE JUGGLER OF TOURAINE Once in the time of Louis the King Happened a smiling and holy thing. Twas all in the outdoor days of old, Days that fancy has warmed with gold, Days that are gone with the leaves, alas! When the light-legged juggler Barnabas From city to wondering city went, Sprinkling the world with his merriment. He would startle the Square on festival- days, When all the town was a sudden blaze, A clamor of tongues, and a clack of feet, A flurry of thousands filling the street Princes with plumes and gartered knees; Sailors back from the Indian seas; Mayors and marshals viewing the town, Horsed, and robed in the violet gown; 30 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Thieves alert for the thoughtless purse, And ever free with the easy curse; Shepherds leading their April flocks; Damsels driving their turkey-cocks; Beggars droning their practised whine; Troopers red from the tavern wine; Ladies in feathers and flaring hoops; Monks with relics and pious stoops; Bullies with long mustachio twirls Teasing the fops with the scented curls; Quacks with doses for all the ills- Coughs and colics, and gripes and chills; Brigands home from their sorry trade, And marked to dance with the hempen maid; Hucksters bragging across the din; Gaffers agaze with shaking chin; Gamesters, too, with the shifty eye And the conical hat an arm s-length high, Clackering loud their lottery dice, Shouting the winning numbers thrice, Giving to all their wild advice. In through it all, like a straddling ape, The juggler strode, with the town agape; 31 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS A punchinello on tipsy stilts, Wading his way with leaps and lilts. A peaked hat on his bobbing head Was half of yellow and half of red. On his powdered face was the unicorn, One cheek for the tail and one for the horn. His gown, puffed out over belly and back, Was sprinkled with signs of the Zodiac. His sleeves, blown up like young balloons, Were floating skies stuck full of moons. And his quips and cranks seemed never to fail To draw the crowd like a comet s tail! Why, even duennas on way to Mass Would follow the train with their maids, alas! And the First Epistle be reached and read, While they were held by a feather-head! For he stretched a carpet along the grass, Where the murmurs mix and the laughters pass; And ripping the skies from arms and back, He stood trim-trig as a tumbling jack. 32 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Like a blowing bough was his whimsy grace; Like a rising moon was his fresh young face. Now he poised on hands on a rolling sphere, And cracked his heels at the Marshal s ear. Now he scattered nine balls to the morn ing air, And kept them a-shine and a-weaving there; For they flew to their places, one by one, As planets tethered about the sun. With toes to head, in a spangling round, He ran as a light wheel over the ground. He swallowed the Notary s signet-ring, And down in your pocket you found the thing! On, on he went till the crowd was full Of tarradiddle and cock-and-bull; And a shower of coins on the carpet fell, Like a rain of leaves on an autumn well. 33 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS II Oh, blithe is the trade of Pantaloon, Light as the flight of an April moon; Blithe are the travels of Harlequin, Till the leaves turn red and the frosts be gin. And light went the days of Barnabas Light as the dews on a blade of grass, Till the first faint frost at Michaelmas. He and the cricket went chirruping by Till the delicate snows began to fly. Then all things crept to a snug abode Squirrel and lizard and lumbering toad And he and the wind were alone on the road. For his purse was lean, his friends were few, And the lodge for the night he never knew. But however the hours ran dark with ill, He only smiled on the old world still: Wide was his love as the sun s good will. And he kept him clear of the deadly sins, Nor bragged and brawled in the noisy inns, 34 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Where unfrocked abbes and tipsy churls Made light-hour love to the loveless girls. Through all the ways that went so wild, He kept the heart of a little child. And he never failed at a wayside shrine With the bended knee and the holy sign, And a candle, tipt with a tender flame, Lighted in praise of Our Lady s name. And he never failed of his parting prayer: "Mother of Jesus, Queen of the skies, Shine on the ways my feet may fare; And when God pleases to shut my eyes, Take me home to your paradise!" One eve, on the edge of a lonely town, As the clouds drove by and the rain shot down, Poor Barnabas, hugging his knives and balls, And seeking a bed in the cattle stalls, Fell in with a friar from the cloistral halls A cheery friar, with a wind of words And a head crooked out like a long-necked bird s. 35 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS "How is it, son," said the beaming friar, "That a grasshopper green is your winter tire? Are you trigged for the clown in a mystery play? Are you out as a droll till the break o day?" "Father," said Barnabas, "this that you see, This is the kill-care Barnabas, he Who has lighted with laughter a hundred towns, Driving before him the phlegms and frowns Lord of the revels; but now, ah, now, Blown in the wind as a leafless bough. Oh, the juggler s trade would the sweetest be OF all in the world, if bread were free!" "Beware," said the friar, "beware, my son: The cloistral trade is the sweetest one. For the friars keep orison day and night, And join the song of the souls in light, And the Seven Throne Angels burning white." 36 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS " Father, my tongue ran loose and long: Your trade is the sweetest: I did God wrong. It is much to dance with a feather thin Or a crooked sword on the upturned chin, And to get the laugh and the rat-tat-tat, When I pull the hen out of Gaston s hat. But little are these to the cloistral ways, Where long hours go to Our Lady s praise; Where the pale friars pass with feet unshod, And the bread is changed to the body of God. Oh, would that I might the great hours know, Where the Sanctus sounds and the gray monks go, And the candles burn in a saintly row!" So simply told was the wistful tale That the word of the juggler had avail. "Come," said the friar, "to the cloistral rest; For the God who gives to the bird a nest, And guides the worm on its lampless quest, 37 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Has sent me out on the edge of night To lead your soul to the place of light." Sweet as the sound of a sudden stream That cools the heat of a traveller s dream, So sweet was the sound of the friendly word The weary heart of the juggler heard. That night he entered the convent door, That night he slept on the frater s floor. He had found a home for his heart at last, And the piteous chance of the road was past. Ill Lightly and still went the busy days Where each one toiled in Our Lady s praise. The Almoner lauded in lovely words That went to the heart like a flight of birds : She was the Lily, the Tower of Gold, Gate of Ivory, Roof of the Fold, The Rock of Vision, the Well that Flows, The Star of the Sea, the Mystic Rose. And ever the good Friar Estevan, A little mysterious thread of a man, 38 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Lauded her grace in Virgilian verse, In numbers majestical, tender, and terse. Friar Glorian copied the stately chants With all of his scholarly curves and slants, Prinking the pages in rainbow dyes, Strewing them over with butterflies, Winding the border with loop and lock Of the fleur-de-lis and the hollyhock. Bonaccord, Basil, and Theophile Praised her in music, as others kneel; Blowing silver and touching string, Till hearts were struck by the mystic wing. Bonaccord s love in the cello sang; Theophile s praise in the hautboy rang Or tenderly cried in the violin. Basil, puffing his horn, came in, Bladdering wide his jovial cheeks, Till his eyes went out into little streaks. Friar Julian painted Madonnas one The throne of the great King Solomon, With lions at corners, awake, aware, And Our Lady bowed in her beauty there. Two souls at her feet cried not in vain For the grace that whitens the mortal stain. 39 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Around her head, in a haloed light, Were seven doves whirled in a silver flight, The seven great gifts of the Holy Breath Devotion that saveth the soul from death, Strength that steadies us, Awe that stills, Science that measures the seas and hills, Wisdom, Intelligence, Good Advice That balks the throw of the devil s dice. And ever the stout Friar Palemone Chiseled and hammered the patient stone, Carving her beauty the whole day long, Edging the time with a quiet song. Like bearded rye were his bristling brows, And white with the dust, as bended boughs Are white with the sift of the early snow When dead leaves stir and begin to go. But to laud in marble, to praise in brass, To honor in color, poor Barnabas, Nothing of these could he do, alas! As leaves on a desert his learning was scant : He knew neither litany, credo, nor chant; Nor Pater, nor Ave not even a prayer, Like a sheep of the field, like a hawk of the air. 4 o THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS One day, when his heart was nigh to fail, The Prior to comfort him told a tale Told of a friar from a southern isle, His face all lit with a heavenly smile, So lean in learning he could recite Only an ave and that half right! Yet beautiful tremblings went over his soul, As stars go over a hidden shoal. He died, and out of his bosom sprang Four doves that flew to a wood and sang. The four white doves that so lightly came Were the four white letters of Mary s name! But the Prior s story was little relief To Barnabas, bearing his daily grief. So morning by morning the young friar slipped Through doors and halls to a secret crypt, And kneeling low at the altar cried: "0 Madam and Mother, Virgin Bride, Here am I only a tethered ox, Eating the grass of the useful flocks! The choir can sing, and the deacons read The Gospel to scatter the living seed. 41 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Others can praise where the censers swing, And the white smoke circles, ring on ring. And the learned can laud you with art and craft, In the Latin chant and the marble shaft. But I, poor Barnabas, nothing can I, But drone in the sun as a drowsy fly." IV So the days crept on till a white dawn came When a thought flashed over his soul like flame; And he leaped from his cell all legs and arms, Filling the cloister with looks and alarms, As he shot his way to the chapel dim, Running for joy in the heart of him. And when he came out of the hidden place, A light as of stars was over his face. Now day after day to the secret crypt, He sped light-foot as the old earth dipped Softly and still in the fire of dawn; For the restless pain of his heart was gone. 42 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS The friars were a-flutter that this should be, Till at last the Prior with two or three Elders and fraters of high degree Followed the juggler on tipping toe, Their breath held mightily, hoping to know. And they heard him cry at Our Lady s shrine : "All that I am, Madam, all is thine! Again I am come with spangle and ball To lay at your altar my little, my all. The friars know all of the saints what they do; But of all up in Heaven, I know only you ! Of holy St. Francis a little I ve heard, But not of St. Plato or Peter a word. I know not Quintilian nothing he said Of the Three and the One, and the Wine and the Bread. Ah, nothing know I of the holy books, And nothing of paints to put beautiful looks Of your eyes on the wall, nor the blowing of brass To make sound of my love ^h, nothing, alas! 43 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS But the trade of the wandering Barnabas. Yet, Lady and Queen, if my heart would live, I must give the gift that I have to give." And then the eyes of the elders shone, As they peered from the shade of a pil lared stone; For laying his friar s robe tenderly by, He flickers as light as a dragon-fly; Then whirls into many a whimsical shape, As once he had whirled with the crowd agape. And softly he cries as his breath comes quick : "Look down, for, Madam, this is the trick I did at Toulon, when I took the eye Of the King himself as he galloped by. ... This trick drew a duchess at Chateaur- oux. . . . But this is the one I have made for you!" So flinging his feet in the air, he stands, Or goes and comes on his nimble hands, 44 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Or tosses the balls up to twinkle and run Like planets that circle about a sun. "Lady," he cries again, "look, I entreat: I worship with fingers and body and feet!" At this all the elders mutter and chide: "Nothing like this do the rules provide! This is a scandal, this is a shame, This madcap prank in Our Lady s name. Out of the doors with him; back to the street : He has no place at Our Lady s feet!" But why do the elders suddenly quake, .-Their eyes a-stare and their knees a-shake? Down from the rafters arching high, Her blowing mantle blue with the sky Lightly down from the dark descends The Lady of Beauty, and lightly bends Over Barnabas stretched in the altar place, And wipes the dew from his shining face; Then touching his hair with a look of light, Passes again from the mortal sight. 45 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS An odor of lilies hallows the air, And sounds as of harpings are every where. "Ah," cry the elders, beating the breast, "So the lowly deed is a lofty test! And whatever is done from the heart to Him Is done from the height of the Seraphim!" HOW OSWALD DINED WITH GOD Over Northumbria s lone, gray lands, Over the frozen marl, Went flying the fogs from the fens and sands, And the wind with a wolfish snarl. Frosty and stiff by the gray York wall Stood the rusty grass and the yarrow: Gone wings and songs to the southland, all- Robin and starling and sparrow. Weary with weaving the battle-woof, Came the king and his thanes to the Hall: Feast-fires reddened the beams of the roof, Torch flames waved from the wall. Oswald, "the most Christian King of the Northumbrians," was born about 604, A. D., shortly after the time of King Arthur. The moral power that reached its height in King Alfred had its first dawn in the character of Oswald. 47 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Bright was the gold that the table bore, Where platters and beakers shone: Whining hounds on the sanded floor Looked hungrily up for a bone. Laughing, the king took his seat at the board, With his gold-haired queen at his right: War-men sitting around them roared Like a crash of the shields in fight. Loud rose laughter and lusty cheer, And gleemen sang loud in their throats, Telling of swords and the whistling spear, Till their red beards shook with the notes. Varlets were bringing the smoking boar, Ladies were pouring the ale, When the watchman called from the great hall door: 66 King, on the wind is a wail. THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS "Feebly the host of the hungry poor Lift hands at the gate with a cry: Grizzled and gaunt they come over the moor, Blasted by Earth and sky." "Ho!" cried the king to the thanes, "make speed Carry this food to the gates Off with the boar and the cask of mead Leave but a loaf on the plates." Still came a cry from the hollow night: "King, this is one day s feast; But days are coming with famine-blight; Wolf winds howl from the east!" Hot from the king s heart leaped a deed, High as his iron crown: (Noble souls have a deathless need To stoop to the lowest down.) 49 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS "Thanes, I swear by Godde s Bride This is a cursed thing Hunger for the folk outside, Gold inside for the king!" Whirling his war-ax over his head, He cleft each plate into four. "Gather them up, thanes," he said, "For the workfolk at the door. "Give them this for the morrow s meat, Then shall we feast in accord: Our half of a loaf will then be sweet Sweet as the bread of the Lord!" THE CUP OF PRIDE I Young Celestinus, prince of Rome, Driven by the Spirit, left his home Left lordly palaces and lands To find a cavern in the sands. For he had turned in terror when Savonarola, crying to men Out of Love s burning anger, hurled His judgment thunders on the world. Then fell the house of pride for him; Then shined the path of Seraphim. His shirt of hair, his holy book, And one tall cup were all he took One carven cup whose lettering told Of his princely race and their deeds of old. So out by Elim s seven tall palms, 51 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS With sounds of penitential psalms, And aching knees and fastings long, He strove to purge away the wrong His deeds had heaped in those wild years When he had sown the seed of tears. II But not alone with prayer and praise Did Celestinus build his days. He led afar a little stream To glass the bough and the starry beam. He scooped each day the sandy hole That held well-water as a bowl, To gladden conies in their play And hearten camels on the way. He made the stream that was so lean A winding path of trembling green, Where vine-leaves lifted and white pease, And barley for the wind to tease. There at his lonely cavern door, There on his hard but friendly floor, Worn travellers stopt on the way to eat Of dates and honey and wild goat s meat, 52 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Here camel-men and pilgrim band Found comfort in a weary land, As Celestinus gave them ease And washed their feet upon his knees. But he always brought with a secret pride The carven cup from its niche inside, Thinking the guests might his story trace And learn that he came of a lordly race; And say, as they saw his feet unshod, "How much he has given up for God!" Ill And yet in his prayers the hermit cried, "Lord, have I purged away my pride? Am I little and humble in Thy sight, And moving hourly toward the light?" And God was listening to this, and glad; Till at the end of a happy year, He turned to the angel Arabad: "Go, for this child is very dear Go to the sands this soul to save." So came one night to the hermit s cave A pilgrim with starry eyes and grave. Quickly the hermit smoothed a seat; Spread for the angel bread and meat, 53 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Pouring the goat s milk foaming and cold Into the cherished cup of gold, The goblet carven with curious grace To tell the glories of his race Their births, their deaths, their princely reigns, Their daring deeds, their splendid pains. Softly they talked with bite and sup, Yet spoke no word of the boastful cup. But lo, in the hush of the desert night, When sleep on Celestinus fell, There shined round the pilgrim a mystic light; And he rose and took from the hermit s cell The lordly goblet loved too well, And bore it away in his camel-pack And faded to air on the desert track. But he sent on the hermit s soul a dream That threaded the dark like a starry beam Bringing these words from the world s extreme: 54 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS "Your goblet, brother, I must destroy, As we take from a child a perilous toy. Let go of the past, both deed and date: Only your own act molds your fate- Only the man you are to-day Counts when the judgment angels weigh! ss HOW THE GREAT GUEST CAME I Before the Cathedral in grandeur rose, At Ingelburg where the Danube goes; Before its forest of silver spires Went airily up to the clouds and fires; Before the oak had ready a beam, While yet the arch was stone and dream Ther^ where the altar was later laid, Conrad the cobbler plied his trade. II Doubled all day on his busy bench, Hard at his cobbling for master and heiVch, He pounded away at a brisk rat-tat, Shearing and shaping with pull and pat, Hide well hammered and pegs sent home, Till the shoe was fit for the Prince of Rome. And he sang as the threads went to and fro: 56 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS "Whether tis hidden or whether it show, Let the work be sound, for the Lord will know." Ill Tall was the cobbler, and gray and thin, And a full moon shone where the hair had been. His eyes peered out, intent and afar, As looking beyond the things that are. He walked as one who is done with fear, Knowing at last that God is near. Only the half of him cobbled the shoes: The rest was away for the heavenly news. Indeed, so thin was the mystic screen That parted the Unseen from the Seen, You could not tell, from the cobbler s theme If his dream were truth or his truth were dream. IV It happened one day at the year s white end, Two neighbors called on their old-time friend; S7 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And they found the shop, so meagre and mean, Made gay with a hundred boughs of green. Conrad was stitching with face ashine, But suddenly stopped as he twitched a twine: "Old friends, good news! At dawn to day, As the cocks were scaring the night away, The Lord appeared in a dream to me, And said, I am coming your Guest to be! So I ve been busy with feet astir, Strewing the floor with branches of fir. The wall is washed and the shelf is shined, And over the rafter the holly twined. He comes to-day, and the table is spread With milk and honey and wheaten bread." His friends went home; and his face grew still As he watched for the shadow across the sill. 58 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS He lived all the moments o er and o er, When the Lord should- enter the lowly door The knock, the call, the latch pulled up, The lighted face, the offered cup. He would wash the feet where the spikes had been; He would kiss the hands where the nails went in; And then at the last would sit with Him And break the bread as the day grew dim. VI While the cobbler mused, there passed his pane A beggar drenched by thetiving rain He called him in from the sKny street And gave him shoes for his bised feet. The beggar went and there Her face with wrinkles of A bundle of fagots bowed her And she was spent with the wrench and rack. He gave her his loaf and steadied her load As she took her way on the weary road. 59 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Then to his door came a little child, Lost and afraid in the world so wild, In the big, dark world. Catching it up, He gave it the milk in the waiting cup, And led it home to its mother s arms, Out of the reach of the world s alarms. VII The day went down in the crimson w r est And with it the hope of the blessed Guest, Arid Conrad sighed as the world turned gray: "Why is it, Lord, that your feet delay? Did You forget that this was the day?" Then soft in the silence a Voice he heard : "Lift up your heart, for I kept my word. Three times I came to your friendly door; Three times my shadow was on your floor. I was the beggar with bruised feet; I was the woman you gave to eat; I was the child on the homeless street!" THE ACCUSING GOLD It was when Ferdinand was king In Naples, back in a little ring Of noisy years, forgot and gone, A whirl of mist across the dawn. A little legend of those years Stays to proclaim their toils and tears One little legend that, I wit, Is in the Book of Judgment writ. And now the accusement of this rhyme Will cry it into the ear of Time. The king to bind with crafty hold St. Francis of Castellamare, Flung to the friar a purse of gold (You should have seen the courtiers stare!) A thousand ducats as an alms To lay within God s empty palms. But Francis, friend of man, stooped down, 61 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And snatching a coin from the impious purse (Stamped with the Prince s royal crown, But stamped more deep with the People s curse) He bent it till it broke; and lo, Blood trickled out for all to know! "Take back your gold," the friar cried, "The gold that props your pomp and pride. Behold the People s blood you draw Through stealthy treasons of the law. This blood proclaims the griefs and wrongs Of them to whom the gold belongs. Give all to them, if you would give The gold into God s hand, and live." LOVE AND YOUTH VIRGILIA Had we two gone down the world together, I had made fair ways for the feet of Song, And the world s fang been but a foam- soft feather, The world that works us wrong. If you had but stayed when the old- sweet wonder Was a precious pain in my pulsing side! Ah, why did you hurry our lives asunder You, born to be my bride? What sent it upon me my soul impor tunes All the grief of the world in a little span, 6s THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS All the tears and fears, all the fates and fortunes, That the heart holds for a man? Is this then the grief that the first gods kneaded Into all joy that the strange world brings? Did the tears fall into the heap unheeded, These tears in mortal things? But why it was that the whole world wasted, This you will know when they count the tears, After the dust of the grave is tasted, After this noise of years. Yet some things stay though a world lies broken, I keep some things that were dear of old That first kiss spared and that last word spoken And the glint of your hair s dark gold. 66 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Do you mind that hour in the soft sweet morning When I held you fast in divine alarms, When my soul stood up like a god adorning His body with bright arms? Forget it not till the crowns are crumbled And the swords of the kings are rent with rust- Forget it not till the hills lie humbled, And the springs of the seas run dust. II What was I back in the world s first wonder? An elf-child found on an ocean-reef, A sea-child nursed by the surge and thunder, And marked for the lyric grief. I mind me well how the waves edge whit ened As the shapes of the storm went whirl ing by THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS How I laughed and ran when the loud void lightened, And tempest shook the sky. So I will go down by the way of the willows, And whisper it out to the mother Sea, To the soft sweet shores and the long bright billows, The dream that cannot be. There will be help for the soul s great trouble Where the sea s heart sings to the listen ing ear, Where the high gray cliff in the pool hangs double, And the moon is misting the mere. Twas down in the sea that your soul took fashion, strange Love born of the white sea- wave! And only the sea and her lyric passion Can ease the wound you gave. 68 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS I will go down to the wide wild places, Where the calm cliffs look on the shores around; I will rest in the power of their great grave faces And the gray hush of the ground. On a cliff s high head a gray gull clamors, But down at the base is the Devil s brew, And the swing of arms and the heave of hammers, And the white flood roaring through. There on the cliff is the sea-bird s tavern, And there with the wild things I ll find a home, Laugh with the lightning, shout with the cavern, Run with the feathering foam. I will climb down where the nests are hanging, And the young birds scream to the swinging deep, 69 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Where the rocks and the iron winds are clanging, And the long waves lift and leap. I will thread the shores to the cavern hollows, Where the edge of the wave runs white and thin; I will sing to the surge and the foam that follows When the dark tides thunder in. I will go out where the sea-birds travel, And mix my soul with the wind and sea; Let the green waves weave and the gray rains ravel, And the tides go over me. The Sea is the mother of songs and sor rows, And out of her wonder our wild loves come; 70 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And so it will be through the long to-mor rows, Till all our lips are dumb. She knows all sighs and she knows all sin ning, And they whisper out in her breaking wave: She has known it all since the far be ginning, Since the grief of that first grave. She shakes the heart with her stars and thunder And her soft low word when the winds are late; For the sea is Woman, the sea is Wonder Her other name is Fate! There is daring and dream in her billows breaking In the power of her beauty our griefs forget: THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS She can ease the heart of the long, long aching, And bury old regret. Ill Will you find rest as our ways dissever? Will the gladness grow as the days in crease? Howbeit, I leave on your soul forever The word of the eternal peace. I will go the road and my song shall save me, Though grief may stay as the heart s old guest : I will finish the work that the strange God gave me, And then pass on to rest. I will go back to the great world-sorrow, To the millions bearing the double load 72 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS The fate of to-day and the fear of to morrow: I will taste the dust of the road. I will go back to the pains and the pities That break the heart of the world with moan; I will forget in the grief of the cities The burden of my own. There in the world-grief my own grief humbles, My wild hour melts in the days to be, As the wild white foam of a river crumbles, Forgotten in the sea. 73 THE CROWNING HOUR I It was ages ago in life s first wonder I found you, Virgilia, wild sea-heart; And twas ages ago that we went asunder, Ages and worlds apart. Your luminous face and your hair s dark glory, I knew them of old by an ocean-stream, In a far, first world now turned to story, Now faded back to dream. I saw you there with the sea-girls fleeing, And I followed fast over rock and reef; And you sent a sea-fire into my being, The lure of the lyric grief. 74 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS One after one the stars were slipping, Pearl after pearl to the bowl of night; And down the west three moons were dip ping Into the waves, all white. I know not now where the moons were misting: Perhaps it was Saturn s belted track: Howbeit, you swore to a lovers trysting In those quick glances back. I followed you fast through the white sea- splendor, On into the rush of a blown, black rain; Drawn on by a mystery strangely tender, The spell of a starry pain. As up round a headland the tides came swirling, You sang one song from your wild sea- heart; 75 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Then a mist swept in, and we two went whirling, Ages and worlds apart. II We are caught in the coil of a God s ro mances We come from old worlds and we go afar: I have missed you again in the Earth s wild chances Now to another star! Perhaps we are led and our loves are fated, And our steps are counted one by one; Perhaps we shall meet and our souls be mated, After the burnt-out sun. For over the world a dim hope hovers, The hope at the heart of all our songs 7 6 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS That the banded stars are in league with lovers, And fight against their wrongs. If this is a dream, then perhaps our dream ing Can touch life s height to a finer fire: Who knows but the heavens and all their seeming Were made by the heart s desire? One thing shines clear in the heart s sweet reason, One lightning over the chasm runs That to turn from love is the world s one treason That darkens all the suns. So I go to the long adventure, lifting My face to the far, mysterious goals, To the last assize, to the final sifting Of gods and stars and souls. 77 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Our ways go wide and I know not whither, But my song will search through the worlds for you, Till the Seven Seas waste and the Seven Stars wither, And the dream of the heart comes true. I am out to the roads and the long, long questing, On dark tides driven, on great winds blown : I pass the rims of the world, unresting, I sail to the unknown. Ill There are more lives yet, there are more worlds waiting, For the way climbs up to the eldest sun, Where the white ones go to their mystic mating, And the Holy Will is done. 78 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS I will find you there where our low life hightens, Where the door of the Wonder again unbars, Where the old love lures and the old fire whitens, In the Stars behind the stars. Perhaps we will meet where the boughs for rafters Shelter a cliff by an ocean-stream, As we met long ago in the light sea- laughters When over me went the dream. Perhaps we will meet on the hills of fairy, Twined round by the shores and the scented vales, To stray moon-charmed in a high-hung, airy Dream-wood of nightingales. We will hear some word of the world s dark meaning, As we meet at last by the song-loud trees, 79 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Hushed with the wonder of life, and lean ing Over the whispering seas. Ah, strangely then will the heart be shaken, For a spheral music will touch the night; And the mystic wind of the worlds will waken, Kindling the lost delight. It will all come back the wasted splen dor, The heart s lost youth like a breaking flower, The dauntless dare, and the wistful, tender Touch of the April hour. As we go star-stilled in the mystic garden, All the prose of this life run there to rhyme, 80 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS How eagerly then will the poor heart pardon All of these hurts of Time! Ah, yes, in that hour of our souls dream- driven, In that high, white hour, my wild sea-bride, The tears and the years will be all for given, . . . And all be justified. 81 LION AND LIONESS One night we were together, you and I, And had unsown Assyria for a lair, Before the walls of Babylon rose in air. Low languid hills were heaped along the sky, And white bones marked the wells of alkali, When suddenly down the lion-path a sound . . . The wild man-odor . . . then a crouch, a bound, And the frail Thing fell quivering with a cry! Your yellow eyes burned beautiful with light: The dead man lay there quieted and white : I roared my triumph over the desert wide, Then stretched out, glad of the sands and satisfied; And through the long, star-stilled Assyrian night, I felt your body breathing by my side. 82 GREEN HILLS AND WINDY WAYS AT FRIENDS WITH LIFE Give me green rafters and the quiet hills Where peace will mix a philter for my ills Rafters of cedar and of sycamore, Where I can stretch out on the fragrant floor, And see them peer the softly stepping shapes By the still pool where hang the tart wild grapes. There on the hills of summer let me lie On the cool grass in friendship with the sky. Let me lie there in love with earth and sun, And wonder up at the light-foot winds that run, Stirring the delicate edges of the trees, And shaking down a music of the seas. 8s THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Bring some old book "The Romaunt of the Rose," A song through which the wind of morn ing blows. Let me stretch out at friends with life at last, Forgetting all the clamors of the past The broken dream, the flying word unjust, The failure, and the friendship gone to dust. 86 WIND ON THE RYE There is green on the hill, there is gold on the river, And the wind on the rye sets my spirit a-quiver. There s a thrill in the sod At the touch of the God, And a song in my heart for the gift and the Giver. Now the grief that for days to my heart has been clinging Is gone down the wind on the wings of the singing. The old sorrows die In the dance of the rye, And the joy of the world in my spirit is springing! ON THE SUISUN HILLS "And there were shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night." LUKE. Long, long ago I was a shepherd boy, My young heart touched with wonder and wild joy. Once in my happy country far away, One dear December day, On green Sierran hills at fall of sun, We shepherds came with singing, every one Bearing a fragrant pack Of manzanita boughs upon the back. And soon the watch-fires kindled on the hight Were darting scarlet prongs against the night; While all the huddled sheep Were lying still, save one belated ewe Bringing her lost lamb in with loud ado. 88 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And by the crackling boughs our dogs asleep Were startling with short barks Or pricking pointed ears in little harks, Chasing a dream-coyote down the steep. Behind the mountain dim The unrisen moon sent up a little rim Of mystic light. The hour was growing still, Save for a whisper in the hollow hill, Save for a random bleat in the shifting herd Or low note of some half-awakened bird The little startles and alarms of dream Silvered by sounds of some hill-wandering stream. Resting my arm against a friendly stone, The night wore on until I watched alone. High on my crag, under the sky s wide arch, Pillared on peaks afar, I watched the punctual, immemorial march Of star on glorious star; THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And long thoughts came to me in the long night Of shepherds watching in the starry light Long thoughts of the shepherds of old Who saw the hosts go by, the heavens un fold, And heard the song shake down High over David s town, Where the bare stall was His Who on the Right Hand is; While Magi on the Syrian sands afar Were hastening at the signal of a star. My wild boy-heart did burn to have been there, In that strange night, in that celestial air, When wise and simple, too, Touched by one joy, to one high stature grew. THE HEART S RETURN When darkened hours come crowding fast, A thought and all the dark is past! For I am back a boy again, Knee-deep in heading barley in a Men- docino glen. I cannot ever be so sad But one thing still will make me glad That hid spring in the Suisiin hills: My heart keeps going back to it thru all the earthly ills. How often when the brood of care Would hold me in a hopeless snare, My soul springs winged and away, Remembering that wild duck s nest above Benicia bay! 91 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Or when night finds me toiling still, I am back again on the greening hill, A shepherd boy at set of sun, Folding his happy sheep and knowing all his tasks are done. SCRIPT FOR THE JOURNEY MAN-TEST When in the dim beginning of the years, God mixed in man the raptures and the tears And scattered thru his brain the starry stuff, He said, "Behold! Yet this is not enough, For I must test his spirit to make sure That he can dare the Vision and endure. "I will withdraw my Face, Vail me in shadow for a certain space, Leaving behind Me only a broken clue A crevice where the glory glimmers thru, Some whisper from the sky, Some footprint in the road to track Me by. " I will leave man to make the fateful guess, Will leave him torn between the No and Yes, 95 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Leave him unresting till he rests in Me, Drawn upward by the choice that makes him free Leave him in tragic loneliness to choose, With all in life to win or all to lose." THE PILGRIM Man comes a pilgrim of the universe, Out of the mystery that was before The world, out of the wonder of old stars. Far roads have felt his feet, forgotten wells Have glassed his beauty bending down to drink. At altar-fires anterior to Earth His soul was lighted, and it will burn on After the suns have wasted on the void. His feet have felt the pressure of old worlds, And are to tread on others yet unnamed Worlds sleeping yet in some new dream of God. 97 THE DEEP OF GOD Know man and you will know the deep of God; For I who cry my wonder over life, Am I not part of That behind it all? Do I not feel the passion of the one Who was anterior to the morning star? Did I not come out of the ,Mystery, Out of the Infinite? So in my sigh Do I not breathe its sorrow: in my will Do I not speak its purpose? When a stone Falls from a star, we find within the stone The secret of the vastness whence it fell. VICTORY IN DEFEAT Defeat may serve as well as victory To shake the soul and let the glory out. When the great oak is straining in the wind, The boughs drink in new beauty, and the trunk Sends down a deeper root on the wind ward side. Only the soul that knows the mighty grief Can know the mighty rapture. Sorrows come To stretch out spaces in the heart for joy. THE HIDDEN GLACIER There is no time for hate, wasteful friend : Put hate away until the ages end. Have you an ancient wound? Forget the wrong. . . . Out in my West a forest loud with song Towers high and green over a field of snow, Over a glacier buried far below. zoo A WORKMAN TO THE GODS Once Phidias stood, with hammer in his hand, Carving Athene from the breathing stone, Tracing with love the winding of a hair, A single hair upon her head, whereon A youth of Athens cried, "0 Phidias, Why do you dally on a hidden hair? When she is lifted to the lofty front Of the Parthenon, no human eye will see." And Phidias thundered on him : " Silence, slave: Men will not see, but the Immortals will!" 101 REVELATION I made a pilgrimage to find the God: I listened for his voice at holy tombs, Searched for the print of his immortal feet In dust of broken altars; yet turned back With empty heart. But on the homeward road, A great light came upon me, and I heard The God s voice singing in a nesting lark; Felt his sweet wonder in a swaying rose; Received his blessing from a wayside well; Looked on his beauty in a lover s face; Saw his bright hand send signal from the sun. 102 "SHINE ON ME, SECRET SPLEN DOR" Shine on me, Secret Splendor, till I feel That all are one upon the mighty wheel. Let me be brother to the meanest clod, Knowing he, too, bears on the dream of God; Yet be fastidious, and have such friends That when I think of them my soul ascends! 103 ANCHORED TO THE INFINITE The builder who first bridged Niagara s gorge, Before he swung his cable, shore to shore, Sent out across the gulf his venturing kite Bearing a slender cord for unseen hands To grasp upon the further cliff and draw A greater cord, and then a greater yet; Till at the last across the chasm swung The cable then the mighty bridge in air! So we may send our little timid thought Across the void, out to God s reaching hands Send out our love and faith to thread the deep Thought after thought until the little cord Has greatened to a chain no chance can break, And we are anchored to the Infinite! 104 ONE MUSIC There is a high place in the upper air, So high that all the jarring sounds of earth All cursing and all crying and all mirth Melt to one murmur and one music there. And so, perhaps, high over worm and clod, There is an unimaginable goal, Where all the wars and discords of the soul Make one still music to the heart of God. 105 SWUNG TO THE VOID Once, suddenly, I found myself alone, Out in the void of a great city, filled With tremblings and the cry of many fears, Making escape out of the human deep, I climbed heart-troubled to the leafy hills; And stretching on a bank above a stream, I gazed up to the dome of the high boughs, And wondered over life and life s alarms. And as I lay there asking for a sign, I saw a spider flash his filmy ropes Across the dome; saw him, with rapturous fall, Drop on a silver cable to the void, And hang serenely in the rosy beams Of sunset hang all still and unafraid. 106 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And lo, a courage came upon my soul, With long, long thoughts of this adven turer, This little dweller in the floorless air, Held in the peace that folds the earth and stars. 107 THE PLACE OF PEACE At the heart of the cyclone tearing the sky And flinging the clouds and the towers by, Is a place of central calm: So here in the roar of mortal things, I have a place where my spirit sings, In the hollow of God s Palm. 108 REST IN FLIGHT The flying arrow, knowing its path is made, Goes singing softly at the bow s behest, Taking its destined journey unafraid In every moment of the flight at rest. So speed, soul, to your divine abode: Go singing through the shadow and the light- Go bravely on your high-appointed road, At rest in every moment of your flight. IOQ THEY WAIT FOR YOU Look not, friend, with unavailing tears Into the Past look to the brave young years! Look to the Future: all is there in wait, All that you fought for by the broken gate The faith that faltered and the hope that fell, The song that died into a lonely knell. It is all there the love that went astray With bitter cries on that remembered day; The joys that were so needed by the heart, And all the tender dreams you saw de part. Nothing is lost forever that the soul Cried out for: all is waiting at the goal. no RECORDS IN THE JUDGMENT BOOK Bishops and deans, would you detect The crowning mark of the Elect Know who believe beyond rebuke The Gospel and the Pentateuch Know who accept the Thirty-Nine, And taste with Christ the mystic wine? Then search the face of him you doubt And that will let the secret out. Explore the face, and do not spare: The Book of Life is written there! And would you know the other host, Those that profane the Holy Ghost, Those that deny the Ancient Word The seers upon the mountain heard? Then search the countenance, and trace Their heresies upon the face: in THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS That hardened line, that loveless look, Are records in the Judgment Book. The truth is written and writ plain Whether we be for Christ or Cain. So shut the books about it all Shut Augustine, shut Ingersoll, Aquinus, Calvin, tome by tome Shut Schleiermacher, shut Jerome. Look on the face, for written there The final judgments are laid bare. The name is on the forehead writ Of all that with the seraphs sit Of all that stumble toward the Pit. 113 SOCIAL VISION EARTH IS ENOUGH We men of Earth have here the stuff Of Paradise we have enough ! We need no other stones to build The stairs into the Unfulfilled No other ivory for the doors No other marble for the floors No other cedar for the beam And dome of man s immortal dream. Here on the paths of every-day Here on the common human way Is all the stuff the gods would take To build a Heaven, to mold and make New Edens. Ours the stuff sublime To build Eternity in time! CONSCRIPTS OF THE DREAM Give thanks, heart, for the high souls That point us to the deathless goals For all the courage of their cry That echoes down from sky to sky; Thanksgiving for the armed seers And heroes called to mortal years Souls that have built our faith in man, And lit the ages as they ran. Lincoln, Mazzini, Lamennais, Doing the deed that others pray; Cromwell, St. Francis, and the rest, Bearing the God-fire in the breast These are the sons of sacred flame, Their brows marked with the secret name The company of souls supreme, The conscripts of the mighty Dream. 116 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Made of unpurchasable stuff, They went the way when ways were rough; They, when the traitors had deceived, Held the long purpose, and believed; They, when the face of God grew dim, Held thru the dark and trusted Him Brave souls that took the perilous trail And felt the vision could not fail. Give thanks for heroes that have stirred Earth with the wonder of a word. But all thanksgiving for the breed Who have bent destiny with deed- Souls of the high, heroic birth, Souls sent to poise the shaken Earth, And then called back to God again To make Heaven possible for men. 117 THE TESTIMONY OF THE DUST Voices are crying from the dust of Tyre, From Karnak and the stones of Baby lon "We raised our pillars upon self-desire, And perished from the large gaze of the sun." A grandeur looked down from the pyramid, A glory came on Greece, a light on Rome; But in them all the ancient Traitor hid, And so they passed like momentary foam. There was no substance in their soaring hopes; The voice of Thebes is now a desert cry: A spider bars the road with filmy ropes, Where once the feet of Carthage thun dered by. 118 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS A bittern cries where once Queen Dido laughed; A thistle nods where once the Forum poured; A lizard lifts and listens on a shaft, Where once of old the Colosseum roared. It is a Vision waiting and aware; And you must draw it down, men of worth Draw down the New Republic held in air, And make for it foundations on the Earth. IIQ THE BARD He is the Awakener sent into these skies To cheer the men that stagger with their load; And where men wander and grope, to light the road; And where men rot in ease, to cry "Arise: The horns are calling to the great em- prize!" Wherever there is sleep, he is a goad, A voice to point the path the heroes strode; For in him is the God that climbs and cries. He is the herald sent from worlds afar To rouse the dead and stir the doors that rust. He calls young hearts to war, to glorious war; 120 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And old hearts chilled by the approach ing dust, He quickens, till they climb the towers august To listen for the coming of some star. To Robert Underwood Johnson. THE CHATEAU BAGATELLE of Bois de Boulogne, Paris A queen s caprice, a courtier s boast, and lo, The gilt chateau mushrooming into air, Rose lightly as a mist the breezes bear Rose reckless of the People s ancient woe, The patient misery that the toilers know Rose on the brink of all that ruin of things, The crash of centuries, the doom of kings, Volcanic rages thundering from below. Fools! fools! one hour and hell comes battle-red, With work-worn millions crying out for bread, 122 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS The fury of a people spurned and trod Comes with the hoof-beat of the Mar seillaise, With cries and curses of the judgment day, With wild hands groping blindly after God! 123 THE FEAR FOR THEE, MY COUNTRY In storied Venice, where the night repeats The heaven of stars down all her rippling streets, Stood the great Bell Tower, fronting seas and skies Fronting the ages, drawing all men s eyes; Rooted like Teneriffe, aloft and proud, Taunting the lightning, tearing the flying cloud. It marked the hours for Venice: all men said Time cannot reach to bow that lofty head : Time, that shall touch all else with ruin, must Forbear to make this shaft confess its dust. Yet all the while, in secret, without sound, The fat worms gnawed the timbers under ground. THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS The twisting worm, whose epoch is an hour, Caverned his way into the mighty tower; Till suddenly it shook, it swayed, it broke, And fell in darkening thunder at one stroke. The strong shaft, with an angel on the crown, Fell ruining: a thousand years went down! And so I fear, my country, not the hand That shall hurl night and whirlwind on the land; I fear not Titan traitors who shall rise To stride like Brocken shadows on our skies : These we can face in open fight, withstand With reddening rampart and the sworded hand. I fear the vermin that shall undermine Senate and citadel and school and shrine The Worm of Greed, the fatted Worm of Ease, And all the crawling progeny of these The vermin that shall honeycomb the towers And walls of State in unsuspecting hours. 125 THE RIGHT TO LABOR IN JOY Out on the roads they have gathered, a hundred-thousand men, To ask for a hold on life as sure as the wolfs hold in his den. Their need lies close to the quick of life as rain to the furrow sown: It is as meat to the slender rib, as marrow to the bone. They ask but the leave to labor for a taste of life s delight, For a little salt to savor their bread, for houses water-tight. They ask but the right to labor, and to live by the strength of their hands They who have bodies like knotted oaks, and patience like sea-sands. 126 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And the right of a man to labor and his right to labor in joy Not all your laws can strangle that right, nor the gates of Hell destroy. For it came with the making of man and was kneaded into his bones, And it will stand at the last of things on the dust of crumbled thrones. 127 THE PERIL OF EASE Are you sheltered, curled up and content by the world s warm fire? Then I say that your soul is in danger! The sons of the Light, they are down with God in the mire, God in the manger. The old-time heroes you honor, whose ban ners you bear, The whole world no longer prohibits: But if you peer into the past you will find them there, Swinging from gibbets. So rouse from your perilous ease: to your sword and your shield : Your ease is the ease of the cattle. Hark, hark, where the bugles are calling: out to some field Out to some battle! 128 A COMRADE CALLED BACK f Ernest Crosby, poet and social reformer, died Janu ary, 3, 1907.) Comrade, why did you leave us? We needed you here in the fight. Why did the high gods bereave us? We needed your bold arm, believe us, To carry the torch in the night. They sounded recall and you started, And now you are There upon guard, In the band of the heroes departed, Still fighting our battle, high-hearted, Our captain, our brother, our bard. You went as a knight goes a-faring, To join the brave comrades above, To rally where Lincoln and Waring, Mazzini and all of the daring Still fight in the battle of love. 129 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS The Herods of hatred assailed you; They pricked you with thorns and with spears : But up in the Light, when Earth failed you, The heroes of Heaven, they hailed you Owen, Garrison, George, and the seers. High souls that had valor and vision, High souls that passed under the rod; Yet held on through scourge and derision, Still calling the world to decision, To choose between Mammon and God. From purple and pomp, you elected To walk in the gray common road : To keep your free soul, high-erected, You joined the despised, the rejected, To lift at the terrible load. We saw you, with strong face unf earing, Make way through the noise of the horde Right on through the jibe and the jeering; And ever to laughter and fleering, Your song was your answering sword. 130 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS What voice will now speak for the humble, Comrade yea, speak for us all? What hand light the way where we stumble? What hand stay the pillars that crumble, And put back the stones in the wall ? And now that your errand is ended, And now that your steps go afar, What strong soul will catch up the splen did High dream that your spirit attended The purpose of God for our star? It is scarcely necessary to say that in the 3rd and 4th stanzas Mr. Markham refers to George Waring, Robert Owen, Lloyd Garrison, and Henry George, the reformers dear to all who look and labor for the New Time. FREEDOM Here in the forest now, As on that old July When first our conscript fathers took the vow, The bluebird, stained with earth and sky, Shouts from a blowing bough In green aerial freedom, wild and high. And now, as then, the bobolink, Out on the uncertain brink Of the swaying alder, swings, Loosing his song out, link by golden link; While over the wood his proclamation rings, A daring boast that would unkingdom kings ! Even so the wild birds sang on bough and wall That day the Bell of Independence Hall Thundered around the world the Word of Man, That day when Liberty began 132 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And mighty hopes were blown on every sea. But Freedom calls her conscripts now as then- Calls for heroic men : It is an endless battle to be free. As the old dangers lessen from the skies, New dangers rise : Down the long centuries to be, Again, again, will rise Thermopylae Again, again, a new Leonidas Will hold for God the imperilled Pass. As the long ages run New Lexington will rise on Lexington; And many a Warren fall Upon the endangered wall. Yes, in the years to come, New Belgium will rise on Belgium, And many an Albert risk for honor all. Man is the conscript of an endless quest, A long divine adventure without rest. Each hard-earned freedom withers to a bond: Freedom forever is beyond beyond! 133 THE JEWS Once verily, mighty Czar, your crown was justified, When from your place among the thrones your lifted spirit cried : "Let there be no more wars on earth, let weary cannons cease." Well was it, Ruler of the North, that Caesar should say, "Peace!" And yet from Russia comes a cry of souls that would be free; A cry from the windy Baltic runs down to the Euxine Sea. It is the cry of a people, of a people old in grief, A people homeless on the earth and shaken as the leaf. Listen a moment with your heart and you will hear, Czar, There in your clear cold spaces under the great North Star 134 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS There in your Arctic silences swept clean of base desire, Where the unseen Watcher reaches up the awful Fan of Fire. Around you is the vastness and the won drous hush of snow, That you may hear their cry in the night and let the captives go. Have they not kingly lineage, have they not pedigree? Are they not wrapt with wonder, like the darkness of the sea? They come out of the night of years with Asia in their blood, Out of the mystery of Time that was before the Flood. They saw imperial Egypt shrink and join the ruined lands; They saw the sculptured scarlet East sink under the gray sands; They saw the star of Hellas rise and glim mer into dream; They saw the wolf of Rome draw suck beside the yellow stream, 135 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And go with ravenous eyes ablaze and jaws that would not spare, Snarling across the earth, then, tooth less, die upon his lair. And have they not had grief enough, this people shrunk with chains ? Must there be more Assyrias, must there be other Spains? They are the tribes of sorrow, and for ages have been fed On brackish desert-wells of hate and ex ile s bitter bread. They sang the elegies that tell the grief of mortal years; They built the tombs of Pharaohs, mixing the bricks with tears; They built the walls of cities with no thres hold for their own; They gave their dirge to Nineveh, to Babylon their moan. After tears by ruined altars, after toils in alien lands, After waitings by strange waters, after lifting of vain hands, 136 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS After cords and stripes and burdens, after ages scorched with fire, Shall they not find the way of peace, a land of heart s desire? Shall they not have a place to pray, a place to lay the head? Shall they not have the wild bird s rest, the fox s frugal bed? Men s eyes are on you, mighty Czar; the world awaits the word; The blood-splashed gates are eager, and the rusted bolt has stirred ! 137 LOVE S HERO-WORLD Alas, how much of life is lost How much is black and bitter with the frost, That might be sweet with the sweet sun, If men could only know that all are one! But it will rise, Love s hero-world at last, The joy-world wreathed with freedom, and heart-fast The world love-sheltered from the wolfish law Of ripping tooth and clutching claw. It comes! the high inbrothering of men, The New Earth seen by John of Patmos, when The comrade-dream was on his mighty heart. I see the anarchs of the Pit depart The Greeds, the Fears, the Hates, The carnal, wild-haired Fates. 138 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Comrades, rejoice with me, For the joy that is to be, When all the world, far as the blue sky bends, Shall be a light-heart company of friends! 139 COURAGE, ALL! Old gods, avaunt ! The rosy East is wak ing, And in the dawn your shapes of clay are shaking: Ye broke men s hearts, and now your own are breaking. Over all lands a winged hope is flying: It goes without reproof, without replying: It bears God s courage to the dulled and dying. The rusted chain that bound the world is broken ; A new strange star pricks down the night for token; And the Great Word is waiting to be spoken! WAR AND PEACE THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES We are circling, glad of the battle: we joy in the smell of the smoke. Fight on in the hell of the trenches: we publish your names with a croak! Ye will lie in dim heaps when the sunset blows cold on the reddening sand; Yet fight, for the dead will have wages a death-clutch of dust in the hand. Ye have given us banquet, kings, and still do we clamor for more : Vast, vast is our hunger, as vast as the sea-hunger gnawing the shore. Tis well ye are swift with your signals the blaze of the banners, the blare Of the bugles, the boom of battalions, the cannon-breath hot on the air. 143 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS It is for our hunger ye hurry, it is for our feast ye are met: Be sure we will never forget you, ser vants that never forget ! For we are the Spirits of Battle, the peer age of greed we defend : Our lineage rose from the Night, and we go without fellow or friend. We were ere our servant Sesostris spread over the Asian lands The smoke of the blood of the peoples, and scattered their bones to the sands. We circled in revel for ages above the As syrian stream, While Babylon builded her beauty, and faded to dust and to dream. We scattered our laughter on nations and Troy was a word and a waste, The glory of Carthage was ruined, the grandeur of Rome was effaced! And we blazoned the name of Timour, as he harried his herd of kings, 144 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And the host of his hordes wound on, a dragon with undulant rings. And we slid down the wind upon France, when the steps of the earthquake passed, When the Bastile bloomed into flame, and the heavens went by on the blast. We hung over Austerlitz, cheering the armies with jubilant cries: We scented three kings at the carnage, and croaked our applause from the skies. kings, ye have catered to vultures have chosen to feed us, forsooth, The joy of the world and her glory, the hope of the world and her youth. kings, ye are diligent lackeys : we laurel your names with our praise, For ye are the staff of our comfort, for ye are the strength of our days. Then spur on the host in the trenches to give up the sky at a stroke : We tell all the winds of their glory: we publish their fame with a croak! 145 AN APRIL GREETING (To Alfred Noyes, Apostle of Poetry and Peace.) Again the mood of Eden on the earth! Again the summons and the mystic mirth, The beauty and the wonder and the dare, Thrilling the heart, the field, the delicate air! So now once more the old remembering: The lyric hosts come out of the South with song, With music that can save the soul from wrong The immemorial multitudes a-wing Down bright savannas, over the greening trees. Hark, the first warblings in the boughs soft-stirred! And you, Poet, with your winged words, You come convoyed by these! 146 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS You come with all the buds and birds astart You with the heart of April in your heart. So take our banded welcome as we drink A health to you on April s flowering brink To you come hither from that elder clime, Where April has been wreathed in poets rhyme, Been touched with love and tears By English minstrels down a thousand years. And when your Sherwood Forest calls you home Over the furrows of the ocean foam, Take message from this people to your own To England, with her scented hawthorns blown, And all her skylarks in a rapture-pain Sprinkling the happy fields with lyric rain. Tell her that lordlier than her cliffs and towers, Tell her that mightier than her pomps and powers, 147 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS We see her line of poets stretching back Ten centuries, a bright, immortal track. Tell her that while she built the things that seem, They built her glory out of deathless dream. Ah, more is that wild beauty left by Keats Than all the blazon of her kingly seats; More is that wonder from the hand of Blake Than all her guns that make the nations quake; More is her Shelley, with his starry dare, Than all her flags ringed round with battle blare; More her blind Milton voyaging the Vast Than all her squadrons shearing down the blast; And more is Shakspere, lord of lyric seers, Than all her conquests of a thousand years. But none of all the line (Save only Shelley, darling of the Nine) 148 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Has cried as you have cried the valorous vow Of Love s heroic heart, God s prayer to men To cease the wolfish battles of the den. And so the Muses bind upon your brow The olive with the laurel. Son of song, Bear ever on that cry against the wrong. \ 149 PERSONS AND PLACES SAINT PATRICK Wandered from the Antrim hills, Wandered from Killala s rills, He could hear upon the breeze Voices from the Irish seas. Folk of Fochlad called to him From their forest deep and dim; And in vision little hands Beckoned from the Irish lands, Where the western billows spoke With the Druid groves of oak. Evermore their cry did seem Calling, calling, through his dream "Hasten with the flower of truth, Walk among us, holy youth!" II When he spread his dauntless sail To the gladness of the gale, 153 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Glowering demons, mile on mile, Stood in league around the Isle, Laughing out their crackling rage, At the young, unf earing sage. There with lifted cross he came, Breathing low the Sacred Name, And the demons, form by form, Fled in fury down the storm. Over the Isle his spirit went Like fire across the firmament. Kings at Tara caught the word, Churl and kern and chieftain heard, Lo, the Druid s mystic rod Fell down withered before God! With the frost he kindled fire; Drove the snakes from brake and briar, Hurling out the writhing brood With the lightning of his rood. Once he stooped, and with his hand Traced a cross upon the sand; Then a wonder from the ground Sprang a stream with silver sound; And a blind man kneeling there Laved his eyelids, whispering prayer. 154 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Then on his relighted eyes Rushed the splendor of the skies Flashed the water s glancing bubble Gleamed the gold across the stubble Shined the roads that have no ends Smiled the faces of old friends. Ill And when Patrick fell on sleep, Twelve the days were, still and deep Twelve the days, with never a night, Never a cloud across the light. Angels chanted out the hours Leaning from their sky-hung towers; Like a garden blown to bloom Was the sweetness round his tomb. Fable, legend, all are true : More than these did Patrick do ! For he cleared the serpent den, Hiding in the hearts of men ; Letting Love s bright fountain spring Into sweetest murmuring. Yes, the wise, heroic breed Bring us miracle indeed. THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS On the dark he left God s smile, Lighting up lerne s Isle; And forever lives his name As the rose upon her fame. 156 A FRIEND OF THE FIELDS (Birthday Greeting to John Burroughs.) Old neighbor of the fields, "Good day!" "Good morrow!" too, upon the way. Boon fellow of the forest folk, Close confidant of the reticent oak, Oh, be it long till your "Good-bye!" To friendships of the earth and sky. Go on with Life another mile, Lighting the way with kindly smile. Here is the Blue Jay with his brag, And here your friend, the faithful Crag; Here dwells your sister, the Bright Stream To sing her dream into your dream All the meek things that love the ground, And live their days without a sound; All the shy tenantry that fill The holes and shelters of the hill; And all the bright quick things that fly Under the cavern of this sky. IS7 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS You find the friendships of the glen More constant than the oaths of men. Yet bear another while with towns, The push of crowds, the praise of clowns. Stay yet a little longer stay To tell us what the blackbirds say; To hear the cricket wind his horn, And call back summer to the corn; To watch the dauntless butterfly Sail the green field, her nether sky; To hear, when mountain darkness falls, The owl s word in his windy halls. Stay yet a little longer here To bind the yellow of the year, To hoard the beauty of the rose, To spread the gossip of the crows, To watch the wild geese shake the sedge, Or split the sky with moving wedge, To eavesdrop at the muskrat s door For bulletins of weather lore, To tell us by what craft the bees Heap honey in communal trees, And by what sure theodolite They gage the angles of their flight. 158 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Still preach to us uncheerf ul men The sunny gospel of the wren; And tell us for another while Of Earth s serene, sustaining smile. Bear with us till you must be gone To walk with White and Audubon. S9 CONSECRATED GROUND (An ode read at the New York City Hall, July 4, ipu.) Let there be prayer and praise On these worn stones and on these trodden ways; For all around Is holy ground, Ground that departed years Have hallowed with high dreams (Freedom s immortal themes) Made sacred, too, with fall of noble tears. II Let there be prayer and praise, For here once, in the old, heroic days, Appeared our Washington, (Time had no nobler son !) 160 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And here, beneath these lifted skies, he heard From the new page God s last oracular word The word the Bell of Liberty gave tongue The word forever old, forever young The cry, " Let Freedom be On land, on sea!" It was the great word that had sounded on From far Thermopylae and Marathon. Ill Here they brought Lincoln, dead but deathless here, When hate had torn the April from the year. Here on that darkened day They brought the martyr on his home ward way; And in this storied place They laid him with his hushed, heroic face, With all the patient mercies of his look Still written there as in the Judgment Book. . . . 161 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS A great soul that had greatly lived, and then, Dying, sent out his greatness upon men. IV And here with stately step and measured chant, They brought our stern, sad, silent soldier, Grant; Only a little more stilled, a little more, Than he had been on life s loud ways be fore. He was no babbler by the noisy gate: Only in deeds was he articulate Strong to strike blows that Righteousness might live Strong also to forgive. V So here where we have brought our great est dead, Here is a shrine, here is an altar spread, 162 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Where we may consecrate our hearts again To their high hopes for men; Knowing our heroes watch us from their spheres, Still touched by mortal tears Knowing they watch us with their serious eyes, There where the deathless climb the death less skies. 163 THE FRIENDLY DOOR (Written at the request of the New York women struggling to raise $3,000,000 to erect Y. W. C. A. buildings as homes for working girls.) What is the word on the wind to-day, What is the rumor of dare and do? Women, you come with a dream, they say, Banded to see that the dream comes true. Then gather as one to your rallying camp : Here is your chance to give God praise Here is the hour to lift a lamp To light the march of the coming days. Women, you work for the girls that strive, Girls on the battle-line early and late You are helping them keep their souls alive As they take their chance in the fight with Fate. 164 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And so at the end of the ways that wind, One joy will be yours though a world goes down The joy to know that you left behind A friendly door in a friendless town. MANHATTAN Where now the bells of Trinity are heard, Once in the willows sang a hidden bird. Where sits Columbia upon the height, A stag pressed ferny hollows all the night. Where now the Tombs disturbs the dark with sighs, A lilied pond looked up to happy skies. Where now behind a Doric colonnade The busy pens compute the nation s trade, There on the rippling river s reedy edge A beaver built his lodge along the ledge: And down Broadway, where now the mil lions pass, Once ran a crest of flowers in seas of grass. Manhattan, like a kneeling camel, lay, Humped with her ridges, looking toward the Bay, 166 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS A hundred springs, a hundred hasty rills Ran silverly among the little hills. The world was hushed: September s windy gold Was edging all the boughs with beauty old; And far-blown shreds of smoke Went bluely winding over the woods of oak, Or lifted whirls that lived their little span Above the wigwams of Sapponikan. A dusky hunter lurking on a ledge Looked to the south, out to the ocean s edge. And suddenly a sea-thing with white wings Came like a moth the wind of evening brings. What could the wonder be? What shape of earth, what spirit of the sea? A look, a cry, a leap, And he went plunging down the rocky steep, 167 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Tearing through tangled vines a sudden trail, Crushing wild mints to scent the tender gale- Down the long ridges ran, Bearing the tidings to Sapponikan. A great white weary ship came drifting in. Upon her stern a painted moon she bore, Upon her poop the starry heaven she wore: While strange, grave men with beards upon the chin Looked out with wondering eyes and alien speech, Hailing the plumed men upon the beach. Down plunged an anchor, then with loud acclaim Up went the flag of Holland like a flame! Note. When Henry Hudson sailed into New York Bay, he found Manhattan covered with ponds and little hills and wooded valleys. Indeed, Manhattan means "the island of the hills." These elevations were cut down, for the most part, in the early years of the last century. Where the Tombs now stands was once a pond containing a small island encircled by green hills. Sap ponikan was an Indian village on Manhattan. 168 SAN FRANCISCO FALLING A groan of earth in labor pain, Her ancient agony and strain; A tremor of the granite floors A heave of seas, a wrench of shores, A crash of walls, a moan of lips, A terror on the towers and ships; Blind streets where men and ghosts go by ; Whirled smoke mushrooming on the sky; Roofs, turrets, domes, with one acclaim Turned softly to a bloom of flame; A thousand dreams of joy, of power, Gone in the splendor of an hour. 169 SAN FRANCISCO ARISING hill-hung city of my West, Where oft my heart goes home to rest, There came an hour when all went by, A cruel splendor on the sky. Out of the Earth men saw advance The front of Ruin and old Chance. A groan of chaos shook your frame, And a red wilderness of flame Darkened the nations with your name. Now, sons of the West, I see you rise, The world s young courage in your eyes. Sons of broad-shouldered Pioneers, Seasoned by struggle and stern tears 1 see you rising, girt and strong, To lay the new-squared beams in song. 170 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Build greatly, men, for she must shine With Athens of the singing Nine Build airily, for she must stand With Shiraz of the rose-sweet land Build strongly, for her name must be With Carthage of the sail-white sea 171 THE HERO OF THE CROSS THE LORD OF ALL Milton, you did them wrong the hour you sang The Lord s Nativity: the fair young gods, Scorched by your scorn and stricken by your rods, Were loved of Him who took the mortal pang. He knew their cliffs that shone, their wells that sprang, And all the wonder of their purple clime; And as his feet descended into Time, Their voices on the hills and sea-reefs rang. So the young gods of Hellas knew the hour When life s bough was to break in sudden flower; 175 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And in the hush they knelt without a word Beside the Stall; for in the little one They saw Apollo come again, and heard His name cried in the porches of the sun! 176 THE CONSECRATION OF THE COM MON WAY And she brought forth her first-born son . . . and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. LUKE. The hills that had been lone and lean Were pricking with a tender green, And flocks were whitening over them From all the folds of Bethlehem. The King of Heaven had come our way, And in a lowly stable lay: He had descended from the sky In answer to the world s long cry Descended in a lyric burst Of high archangels, going first Unto the lowest and the least, To humble bird and weary beast. His palace was a wayside shed, A battered manger was his bed : An ox and ass with breathings deep Made warm the chamber of his sleep. 177 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Three sparrows with a friendly sound Were picking barley from the ground: An early sunbeam, long and thin, Slanted across the dark within, And brightened in its silver fall A cart-wheel leaning to the wall. An ox-yoke hung upon a hook: A worn plow with a clumsy crook Was lying idly by the wheel. And everywhere there was the feel Of that sweet peace that labor brings The peace that dwells with homely things, Now have the homely things been made Sacred, and a glory on them laid. For He whose shelter was a stall, The King, was born among them all. He came to handle saw and plane, To use and hallow the profane: Now is the holy not afar In temples lighted by a star, But where the loves and labors are. Now that the King has gone this way, Great are the things of every day! 178 THE SONG OF THE MAGI "Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem, . . . behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem. . . . And, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was. . . . And being warned of God in a dream . . . they departed into their own country another way." MATTHEW. With a burning in our spirits, with a lifting of our hands, We have threaded fallen kingdoms, long forgotten in the sands Dead kingdoms where the thistles crowd to guard the empty thrones, Where lone owls hoot their loud disdain among the scattered stones. We passed the ghost of Nineveh upon the windy waste, Where once the Angel of the Sword the paths of Eden paced. We trod on crumbled Babylon, where once on towered hight Her winged lions watched away the lone Assyrian night. 179 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Out of the hush of the holy East, out of the night of old, We seek the One the keepers of the sacred fire foretold. Long centuries the wise have watched upon a peak afar, Twelve Magi keeping vigil for the rising of the star. Long ages they have waited for the herald of the birth, The great hour when a Child should rise to poise the shaken earth. We come commanded by a star and sent by dream we go; Yet of this hour hereafter all the worlds and heavens shall know. This is the One we worship in the splendor of the fire: He is the dream of every heart, he is the world s desire. The prophet watchers cried of him with vision-lighted eyes: They saw his scepter hush the earth and lean against the skies. 180 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Twas he the Vedic poets sang in ages that are gone, The fair young God they knelt to in the brightness of the dawn. This is the Golden Child that rose, when worlds began to be, And floated in the lotus flower upon the mother Sea. This is the Child of Mystery drawn down to earthly years, To bear the common burden and to taste of mortal tears. 181 THE GARDEN OF THE SEPULCHER "Now in the place where He was crucified there was a garden and in the garden a new sepulcher, hewn out of the rock. . . . There laid they Jesus, therefore, and rolled a stone unto the door of the sepulcher." It was a night of calls and far replies, A night of trembling for that Serpent head In gulfs that were before the eldest dead A night of whispering haste along the skies, Prayer, and a wondering down of seraph eyes; While husht Jerusalem washed in the moon s light Lay like a brood of sepulchers, ghost-white. The dark was dying silvery, that strange Still hour when Earth is falling toward the day That hour of spacious silence and delay When all things poise upon the hinge of change. 182 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS The guardsmen had grown silent on their round; Their fire was sinking, when a crash of sound Darkness a reel of earth a rush of light- Cleft rocks then scent of aloes on the night! Their faces turned to faces of the dead ; Their spears fell clamoring terribly as they fled. And He stood risen in the guarded place, With empire in his gesture on his face The hush of muted music, and the might That drew the stars down on the ancient night. Tall in the first-light, mystical and pale, He stood as one who dares and cannot fail, As some high conscript of the Bright Abodes, As one still called to travel the wild roads In Love s divine adventure his white face Hushed with heroic purpose for the race; 183 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Yet wistful of the men who should deny him, And wistful of the years that should be lie him. With peace of heart the blind world could not break, He took a path the young leaves keep awake. Glad of the day come back and loving all, He passed across the morning, felt the cool Sweet kindling air blown upward from the pool. A burning bush was reddening by the wall: An oleander bough was full of stirs, Struck by the robes of unseen messengers. The hills broke purpling, as the sun s bright edge Pushed slowly up behind a rocky ledge: The hovering dome of the Temple, gray and cold, THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Burned out with sudden, unexpected gold. A light wind silvered up the olive slope, And all the world was wonder and wild hope! AFTER THE SEPULCHER "The first day of the week cometh Mary Magdalene early. . . . unto the sepulcher. . . . And ... she turned herself back, and saw Jesus standing . . . Jesus saith unto her, Mary. She turned herself and saith unto him . . . Mas ter." ST. JOHN. From silvering mid-sea to the Syrian sand, It was the time of blossom in the land. On field and hill and down the steep ravine, Ran foam and fire of bloom and ripple of green. The Sepulcher was open wide, and thrown Among the crushed, hurt lilies lay the Stone. A light wind stirred the Garden: every where The smell of myrrh was out upon the air. For three days He had travelled with the dead, And now was risen to go with stiller tread The old earth ways again, 186 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS To stay the heart and build the hope of men. He made a luster in that leafy place, His form serene, majestical; his face Touched with a cryptic beauty like the sea Lit by the moon when night begins to be. The cold gray east was warming into rose Beyond the steep ravine where Kedron goes; When suddenly on the morning faint with flame Jerusalem with all her clamors came A snarl of noises from the far-off street, Dispute and barter and the clack of feet. A moment it brawled upward, and was gone Faded, forgotten in the deep of dawn. He passed across the morning; felt the cool, Keen, kindling air blown upward from the pool. A busy wind brought little tender smells From barley fields and weeds by April wells. 187 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS Up in the tree-tops where the breezes ran, The old sweet noises in the nests began; And once He paused to listen while a bird Shouted the joy till all the Garden heard. There in the morning, on the old worn ways New-risen from the sacrament of death He looked toward Olivet with tender gaze. Old things of the heart came back from other days The happy, homely shop in Nazareth; The noonday shadow of a wayside tree That had befriended Him in Galilee; Dear talks in Bethany by the chimney stone, And night-long lingering talks with John alone. And then He thought of all the weary men He would have gathered as a mother hen Gathers her brood under her wings at night. And then He saw the ages in one flight, 188 THE SHOES OF HAPPINESS And heard as a great sea All of the griefs that had been and must be. As He stood looking on the rose-warm sky, Over the Garden went a sobbing cry. He turned and saw, where the tall almonds are, His Mary of Magdala, wildly pale, Fast-fleeting down the trail, And suddenly his face was like a star! He spoke; she knew a blaze of happy tears; Then "Master!" . . . and the word rings down the years! 189 BOOKS BY EDWIN MARKHAM The Man With The Hoe, and Other Poems. Frontispiece, Mil let s Famous Painting of the Hoe Man $1.00 The Man With The Hoe, and Other Poems, with Illustrations by Howard Pyle 2.00 The Man With The Hoe, with Notes by the Author ... .50 Lincoln, and Other Poems. Frontis piece, Portrait of Lincoln . . 1.00 The Shoes of Happiness, and Other Poems (New) 1.20 California the Wonderful. Pro fusely Illustrated (New) . . . 2.50 Children in Bondage: The Child Labor Problem (New) . . . 1.50 In Preparation The Poetry of Jesus : His Place as a Literary Man New Light on the Old Riddle: A Look into the Mystery of Life and Death 190 CRITICAL OPINIONS "Edwin Markham, the most talked of literary man in America. 9 The Saturday Evening Post. "A great poet: a Miltonian ring in his verses and a Swinburnian richness in his rhymes and rhythms. I place him higher than Walt Whitman. 99 Max Nordau. 66 Truly and exquisitely poetic. 99 Ed mund Clarence Stedman. " The greatest poet of the century. 99 Ella Wheeler Wilcox. "Markham 9 s The Man with the Hoe 9 is the whole Yosemite the thunder, the might, the majesty. 99 Joaquin Miller. "Impressive in the highest degree, and reeks with humanity and morality. 99 Pro fessor William James. 191 CRITICAL OPINIONS " Markham s Man with the Hoe will be the battle-cry of the next thousand years." Jay William Hudson. " It is long since I entertained a doubt of Mr. Markharrfs eventual primacy among contemporary American poets." Ambrose Bierce. "Excepting always my dear Whitcomb Riley, Edwin Markham is the first of the Americans. " William Dean Howells. "A poem by Markham is a national event." Robert Underwood Johnson. "Edwin Markham is one of the greatest poets of the age, and the greatest poet of de mocracy." Francis Grierson. "Edwin Markham is the greatest poet of the Social Passion that has yet appeared in the world." Alfred Russell Wallace. 192 THE COUNTRY LIFE PRESS GARDEN CITY, N. Y. ilidlfiHIi^^R 14 DAY USE RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or on the date to which renewed. Renewed books are subject to immediate recall. 7jul 65VI REG. CIO 78 JUN261983 JEC.CIR. ^26 83 LD 21A-4Chn-ll, 63 (El602slO)476B General Library University of California Berkeley U.C. BERKELEYLIBRARJES