UC-NRLF SB 3D7 3bD GIFT OF i^^J* oj J37, CoJwJk. GeUfc BY EVA GORE-BOOTH POEMS Crown 8vo. $s. UNSEEN KINGS Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net THE ONE AND THE MANY Crown 8vo. 2s. 6d. net. THE TRIUMPH OF MAEVE [In the press LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO. 39 Paternoster Row, London New York and Bombay. Xhe One and The Many BY EVA GORE-BOOTH LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON NEW YORK AND BOMBAY 1904 All rights reserved *<- cr The One and Xhe Many BY EVA GORE-BOOTH WAIN The Soul, being Winged, governs the World (Porphyry) &«5477 From sunlit meadows my tired gaze with- drawn Searches the blue sky, where with twilight shades And paling lights that vanish in the dawn, The Winged Circle of the White Moon fades. In all fair things there dwells one lovely form That moulds the curved rainbow's fiery wings, And guides the whirling cycles of the storm, And winds the stars' desires in golden rings. VI I seek the Ancient Form Divine and dear, The endless Arc of Light, the Perfect Whole, In the lost glory of a shadowed sphere, The broken circle of a Wingless Soul. Here among sunlit leaves, in lonely hours, The Vision of the Silence comes and goes, Touching the heart of pallid primrose flowers, Troubling the waters of the worlds repose. Thus did one muse for hours in a dim vale, Till day passed dreaming the horizon line, And twilight laid the sphered dewdrops pale On the long grass and primrose blooms divine. Vll Many are the colours of the Rainbow re- flected in the Dewdrops that shiver on the grass , but there is only One Light, and the Sea is One. Vlll Fragments of rhythms I heard in manifold twi- light places : The cry of a broken wave, a wild breath of the passing storm, A flutter of deeds and dreams, and a lilt of vanishing faces, A flash from the wings of the Thought that is somewhere a radiant Form. THE ONE AND THE MANY Errata Page 4, line 2, for slips read lips ,,88, ,, 8, for hills read hells White hawthorn boughs make heaven of the blue sky, White daisies mob the green ways of the ground, White waves at twilight, breaking sigh on sigh, Pass beyond sight or sound. B 2 THE ONE AND THE MANY We who have seen the spirit of the spring Die downward to the lowly life of grass, Whilst the dark earth holds fast each soar- ing wing — Dream that all dreams must pass. Yet Beauty, robed in silence and white Peace, Leans from the stars and fills not any grave, Nor ceases when the daisies fade and cease, Nor breaks with the broken wave. Deeper than twilight, whiter than the may, Lo, she hath built her house of wind and sun, Her coloured robe may change from day to day, But the soul of Beauty is One. IN THE PINEWOODS Here the white stars brood high above the austere pines, And the long pine stems seem to gather up the shadowy stream Of the earth's beauty, all her flowing curves and rapturous lines, Folded together and lifted up in a long ecstatic dream. Here in the silent wood Beauty and Peace join hands at last, And all the wars of the world have shrivelled and fallen away, £ 2 4 IN THE PINEWOODS For the winds of an Unknown Will are blowing out of the Vast, And jthe soul of the world grows one with the jrlips that pity and pray. THE EYES OF THE BLIND Through the wise books that trouble the world Ye seek but ye shall not find, For no scroll that was ever unfurled Can open the eyes of the blind.. The open-hearted Mystery Still slumbers among the hills, And her thoughts are the stars of the sky, But her dreams are daffodils. 6 THE EYES OF THE BLIND Her moods are the light of running streams That break into foam and pass, Where the sunset of her sorrow gleams The dew lies hoar on the grass. Her pity softens the twilight wind. Her hands that are cool with dew. Shall open at last the eyes of the blind — And her love is the heavens blue. OCTOBER The sleepless light of morning drives every cloud away, Shining on a garden space of blue and sunny hours, But the dreaming twilight holds the secret of the day, Forgotten by its sunshine and hidden from its flowers. The rainbow coloured robe of spring is delicate and dear, And bright with the unfolding of many eager wings, 8 OCTOBER But the wise October is the Dreamer of the Year, And the Autumn twilight holds the secret of all things. PEACE The long and waving line of the blue hills Makes rhythmical the twilight, no sharp peak Pierces the kind air with a rough-hewn will To storm the sky, no soaring mountains seek To break the melody of the flowing line, But the hills wander on in a long wave, And all the while invisible stars shine Over the sea and the white cairn of Maeve. 10 THE QUEST For years I sought the Many in the One, I thought to find lost waves and broken rays, The rainbow's faded colours in the sun — The dawns and twilights of forgotten days. But now I seek the One in every form, Scorning no vision that a dewdrop holds, The gentle Light that shines behind the storm, The Dream that many a twilight hour enfolds. II The many colours of the world are the joy of the Artist^ but the Worship of the One is the Wisdom of Art. 13 SYMBOLS I have seen the dreams of the world in a rose that the winds have slain, And the flower of Life flaming gold in the blue shrine of the Light, The cry of a mystical harp shudders clear through the cold spring rain, And the twilight is folded in round a dream of the Infinite. For a moonray has slipped from my soul to the mirror of my mind, And lights up the shows of the world, changing its diamonds to dew — i 4 SYMBOLS But the words and the deeds of men are as smoke that darkens the wind — Black smoke from the mills of the world blown across the unfaltering blue. *5 THE REVOLT AGAINST ART The earth bends to her will, the obdurate marble serves Her dream, flowing about her soul in gra- cious lines, Rose white as sunlit waves — a mystery of pale curves Flung up in palace towers or dreaming over shrines. One Beauty moulds the fragile clay in many forms, Till men who build seem but the shadow of strange powers, 16 THE REVOLT AGAINST ART And the wild southern sea with all her clouds and storms, Bends low beneath the yoke of a white host of towers. So doth the round arch of the blue air Byzantine Seem but the jewelled slave of her enthroned desire, Yet far from the unfolding of her loveliest line, Burn the free spiral flames and cones of wind-blown fire. I have seen broken veils of twilight folded round A purer mystery than the rich marble holds, THE REVOLT AGAINST ART 17 Where from of old the mountain-throned Beauty frowned On carven forms divine, and towers inlaid with gold. The Austere Beauty with proud aetherial brows, Moulds not the dusty clay, thinks scorn of the hard stone, But, through her dreams, the shadow of forest boughs Wave o'er the towers of the world broken and overthrown. ]8 FROM THE WEST COAST Here the Atlantic breakers shake the shore And wild winds blast the life of grass and trees, Brave rocks are broken in that endless war, * The very earth seems driven to her knees. Fearless the sea pink grows on the bare stone, Her wan face lifted to the wind and wave, Even as the Lonely turns to the Alone, And the brave soul is rooted in the Brave. x 9 < THE GREAT GOD HAS BEEN RE- LEASED FROM DARKNESS' (Vedic Hymn) The sun that flames in the East, the Light- giver, Agni, Lord of the House of Gold, Rose radiant in Heaven and scattered afar the Gray Maidens of the Dawn, And men turned their eyes to the Light, and worshipped a Majesty burning and old, Till a fire sprang up in the soul of the wise, and delight, and a new song was born. c 2 20 GREAT GOD RELEASED But here under heavy boughs that droop over rain-haunted pools in the West, Whilst the daughters of Mannanan croon at sunset their old and shadowy rune, We, the children of dreams, who wander beside pale waters where waves are at rest, Have made a song for the white Life- giver, the Lonely — the silver-souled Moon. 21 THE ANCIENT WISDOM Time in dark underground dungeons brought the pale seed to birth, Whilst the slow array of the seasons shed sunshine, and the centuries watered the sod, Till the Tree of Knowledge grew silently towering out of the darkness of earth, And the sun's face was veiled in a mist of green boughs like the face of an angry God. 22 THE ANCIENT WISDOM But the broken dream that fell long ago from the far blue deeps of the twilight skies, Carved in the likeness of gods forgotten, great-browed desolate Powers Divine, Like a star that gleams in the blue abyss, or a moonlit wave in the soul of the Wise, In the innermost chancel of dreams shall brood, o'er a secret and shadowy shrine. 23 THE CITY On through the iron day each stone-bound square The soul of the green grass entombed hideSj- The buried spirit of the Wise and Fair Imprisoned in the earth's heart still abides. Then evening passes cool hands o'er the town, Making a dream, against the conquering skies, Of giant Labour-houses that crush down The buried spirit of the Fair and Wise. 24 THE CITY As prisoners count the ray of sunshine dear That filters dimly through their prison bars ; So my heart burns to feel the twilight near, And the far presence of the inviolate stars. Then does the Spirit of the Wise and Fair Break from her sepulchre and walk the town, The iron bonds are loosened everywhere — No pavement gray can crush the green grass down. 25 A DREAM Behind the scenes, before the play, I watched the spirits dress their parts : They decked themselves in robes of clay, With patient skill and finished arts. One moulds in beauty a white face, One blurs the outline coarse and rough, One wraps herself in furs and lace, And one goes clad in tattered stuff. One soul has got a golden crown, Of strutting pride she takes her fill, Another gambols as a clown With all her limbs at her own will. 26 A DREAM One paints a pale ancestral woe On high cheek bones and pencilled brow, One has a world to overthrow And one goes forth to drive the plough. One fill's with heavy words and long The measure of man's patience up. Whilst one pours out the shining song Like wine into a golden cup. One dreams a joyous dream and dear, And smiles on life with flashing eyes, One carves on furrowed brows austere The deep-set wrinkles of the wise. One wraps herself in raiment fine And poses as a warrior-lord, One thinks the human form Divine, And Life herself her own reward. A DREAM 27 Content one gains her heart's desire In carven beauty clear and trim, Whilst one seeks for the Sacred Fire To mould her rugged features dim. But ever all the spirits said, 1 We swathe our limbs in robes of clay And veil our lightning from the dead, And hide our secret selves away. * Behind the brows of king or slave The selfsame secret lingers still, The Rich, the Poor, the Base, the Brave Can but in dreams our dream fulfil,' 2 9 The prayers of the many have made confu- sion among the Angels, but the Incarnation of the One is the hope of the World, 3* INFLUENCE Ye who would mould men's souls unto your tyrannous will, And soften the tiger's heart, and make the wild deer brave, Can ye then lower the crest of one most gentle wave ? Or shift the flowing lines of the dim absolute hill ? The soul stands like a mountain strong against cloud and storm, On the face of wave-built waters is the spirit shed, 32 INFLUENCE And none are formless save the indifferent lost dead — For the immortal carven spirit itself is form. 32 THERE IS NO AGE There is no age, this darkness and decay Is by a radiant spirit cast aside, Young with the ageless youth that yester- day Bent to the yoke of flesh immortal pride. What though in time of thunder and black cloud The Spirit of the Innermost recedes Into the depths of Being, stormy browed, Obscured by a long life of dreams and deeds — D 34 THERE IS NO AGE There is no age — the swiftly passing hour That measures out our days of pilgrimage And breaks the heart of every summer flower, Shall find again the child's soul in the sage. There is no age, for youth is the divine ; And the white radiance of the timeless soul Burns like a silver lamp in that dark shrine That is the tired pilgrim's ultimate goal. 35 THE THISTLE There's no shade in the woods, through the moveless fir branches the sunlight streams down, Lying thick on the roots and mosses, and delicate fronds of wild fern, And the gray hills stand carven about us like the cold dead walls of a town, And the pines are as pillars, the mountains like marble towers at sunset burn, Yet here on the sunburnt heights of the world the springs of the cool rivers are, Up here on the high mountain meadow lost to the life of the plain below, D 2 36 THE THISTLE The thistle has bloomed in a great white flower that dreams on the grass like a star — For out of sharp darkness and sword blades in silence the light of the world must grow — Whilst away on the distant mountain side the torrent thunders afar, And the thirsty valley stretches her lips to meet the cold touch of the snow. . . . Oh ye men who have built up the marble, and carved out your hearts in the stone, Behold the white flower in the meadow was shaped by the hands of a God, By the storms of the world your high towers shall be blasted and overthrown, But the white thistle flower is rooted firm in the will of the life-giving sod. 37 THE INNER LIGHT Between the mountains and the sea I trod last night on holy ground, Standing beside the quicken tree, I saw no sight, I heard no sound. Between the darkness and the light Vainly the haunted hour stood still, Void of all vision came the night, No magic fire burnt on the hill. The mystic earth seemed but dull ground And empty wastes of wood and sea, Yet deep in my deep heart I found The druid vision of the Shee. 38 THE INNER LIGHT I stand between the night and day Once more in the dim world of dreams, And over miles of glimmering gray- Far out at sea the sunset gleams. Now between silence and a song Once more the haunted hour stands still, About my path the pale dreams throng, And magic fires burn on the hill. Through the greenlands a strange voice glides, And lights flash near the quicken tree, Yet deep in the deep soul abides The druid vision of the Shee. 39 THE LADDERS OF LIFE The heart of Life is lifted up with eager pride of birth, The monkeys, throned among the beasts in almost human shape Fling down their scorns on serpent forms left writhing on the earth ; And snakes despise the helpless worm as men despise the ape. When sunshine and green shades serene the pleasant hours divide The radiant lily holds her head high amongst dreams and flowers, 4 o THE LADDERS OF LIFE No man may flout the crimson rout of the gay rose's pride, Who flaunts her royal flag above the garden's gracious powers. Oh silver lilies, rainbow lit, are ye the Fairest Fair, Oh men who knit your brows in wrath are ye the Wisest Wise, Lo ! moonlight gleams in silver dreams about a spirit's hair, And Wisdom dwells in the clear deeps of great untroubled eyes. Red rose, there is another rose that mocks your crimson fine, The rose that is the world's despair and wet with sacred dew, THE LADDERS OF LIFE 41 Though none ascend, all Ladders end in the one Dream Divine, Ye men who scorn the beasts, perchance calm eyes look down on you. The gods who dwell beyond our dreams have cast our prayers away, The angels leaning from their thrones have dealt us scorn for scorn ; The monkey's pride that dares divide our brotherhood of clay Is hushed before the Life Unseen, Unknown, Undreamed, Unborn. Yet one fair truth amid the shades the troubled soul discerns, One ray of light Divine has pierced the world's rain-battered roof, 42 THE LADDERS OF LIFE In every shape of man or ape the sacred fire burns, And God is buried in our clay though angels hold aloof. 43 ASPIRATION Soul of the acorn buried in the sod, Lord of high trees and sunset haunted hills, Planter of primroses and Very God Of the bright daffodils, Pity the weakness of the growing grain — And drench our fields with rain. Soul of the Light and Spirit of the Sword, Flash one great thought through hosts of huddled years, God of great deeds and dream-inspired Lord Of pity and of tears, Pity the weary ploughman's barren toil — Cast sunshine on the soil. 44 ASPIRATION Dream of dim lights and twilight haunted wind, Spirit that moves upon the waters' face, Lighten the wave-washed caverns of the mind With a pale starry grace : Pity the midnight hours of Death and Birth, Bring Hope back to the earth. 45 The Deeds of the Many have filled the world with tumult and lamentation, but the Dream of the One is the Music of Life. 47 TIME The soul would know the rhythm and sound of time As men know music, cunning to divide Into dull bars a melody sublime, Breaking the song's wings, crushing down her pride, They follow her swift steps among the flowers ; Thus do we break the radiance of the whole, Into this rainbow prism of days and hours, Splitting the absolute glory of the soul. 48 TIME Then like a milky way of many stars, The manifold pale fires are brought to birth, And men grope blindly against iron bars, And pain and disappointment walk the earth. 49 THE TRUCE OF GOD The wind has fallen at last, and the daylight has faded away, Peace lies on the hills and the sea, and peace on the rain-drenched sod, And the evening dreams in pity o'er the battlefields of the day ; But those who shoot pigeons at twilight have broken the Truce of God. 5° THE MERCIFUL KNIGHT BURNE-JONES In the dim twilight-haunted garden , Pardon has met with pardon, And the proud flashing giant arms divine That move the worlds, thus gently folded rest Long on the dreamer's breast, Where Pity leans from that harsh cross of pain That is the inmost and inviolate shrine Of Him who is the Slayer and the Slain. 5i A SPIRIT IN PRISON Oh pale discrowned brow and quenched eyes, And thick dull flesh, like heavy clods of clay, Building a grave where some sad sleeper lies Half drenched in dreams, half conscious of decay. This is the mystery of prison bars That guard the dusty windows of the mind, Holding a long-lost glory from the stars, And a free spirit from the roaming wind. E 2 52 A SPIRIT IN PRISON Yet shalt thou see beyond the nerveless brain In the dark chambers of unknown desire, A dim face pressed against the window pane — Behind the quenched eyes immortal fire. 53 THE WEAVER I was the child that passed long hours away Chopping red beetroot in the hay-piled barn ; Now must I spend the wind-blown April day Minding great looms and tying knots in yarn. Once long ago I tramped through rain and slush In brown waves breaking up the stubborn soil, I wove and wove the twilight's purple hush To fold about the furrowed heart of toil. 54 THE WEAVER Strange fires and frosts burnt out the seasons* dross, I watched slow Powers the woven cloth reveal, While God stood counting out His gain and loss, And Day and Night pushed on the heavy wheel. Held close against the breast of living Powers A little pulse, yet near the heart of strife, I followed the slow plough for hours and hours Minding through sun and shower the loom of life. The big winds, harsh and clear and strong and salt, Blew through my soul and all the world rang true, THE WEAVER 55 In all things born I knew no stain or fault, My heart was soft to every flower that grew. The cabbages in my small garden patch Were rooted in the earth's heart ; wings un- seen Throbbed in the silence under the dark thatch, And brave birds sang long ere the boughs were green. Once did I labour at the living stuff That holds the fire, the water and the wind ; Now do I weave the garments coarse and rough That some vain men have made for vain mankind. 56 THE DESOLATE ARMY In the world's wars we have no lot nor part, No tattered flag, no sound of trampling feet Thrills the dark caverns of a nation's heart For us, no battle song makes danger sweet. In the world's praise and love we have no place, We have not turned the drunkard from his wine — Nor toiled to build fine dwellings for the race— Nor burnt new incense at an ancient shrine. THE DESOLATE ARMY 57 Yet have we seen a glimpse of radiant forms Behind the blackness of these smoke-stained hours, Where wisdom shines beyond all clouds and storms, And pity dwells amongst the steadfast powers. Then divine madness fills the heart and brain Of the pale army passionately proud, — We toil on dimly through much strife and strain To unveil those radiant brows unto the crowd. 58 THE LAND TO A LANDLORD You hug to your soul a handful of dust, And you think the round world your sacred trust — But the sun shines, and the wind blows, And nobody cares and nobody knows. O the bracken waves and the foxgloves flame, And' none of them ever has heard your name — Near and dear is the curlew's cry, You are merely a stranger passing by. THE LAND TO A LANDLORD 59 Sheer up through the shadows the mountain towers And dreams wander free in this world of ours, — Though you may turn the grass to gold, The twilight has left you out in the cold. Though you are king of the rose and the wheat, Not for you, not for you is the bog -myrtle sweet, Though you are lord of the long grass, The hemlock bows not her head as you pass. The poppies would flutter amongst the corn Even if you had never been born, With your will or without your will The ragweed can wander over the hill. 60 THE LAND TO A LANDLORD Down there in the bog where the plovers call You are but an outcast after all, Over your head the sky gleams blue — Not a cloud or a star belongs to you. 6i TO A FRIEND Carve thou thy dream in marble, scrawl it clear On the high walls of Art above the throng, Shape it in towers that climb from sphere to sphere, Fold it in music, mould it into song. But live it not, nor let the wandering wind Know of the gentle power in silence born, For in the ways of men the dreamer's mind Shall be by dogs devoured, by vultures torn. 62 TO A FRIEND Alas, dear heart, along the ways of sense No glory save the light of gold can shine ; Men strive with angry deeds — ah ! get thee hence, Cast not thy star before these hungry swine. The song would flood your soul in silver streams, The tower holds on high the builder's trust, The marble bends unto the sculptor's dreams, But men tread out your fire in the dust. 63 FROM THE GARDEN OF PROSERPINE I dare not bend the white rose to my will, Nor break the lilies' stalk, nor idly part The climbing sweetbriar from the green-clad hill, Nor steal the emerald's fire from the earth's heart. Yea, in the spring my fierce desires refrain From the pale primroses, my hands are cold To flaming poppies ; through the woods in vain My path is lit with the laburnum's gold. 64 FROM THE GARDEN OF No rose shall shed for me her delicate leaves, No bluebell fade and die an hour too soon, No poppy mourn the cornfield's golden sheaves, No radiant lily pine for the hot noon. Harmless I roam amongst the dreams that bloom In the lost garden, passing them thus by, Loath to pluck flowers too fair to deck a tomb, Too bright to thrive under a cloudy sky. Yet from the secret ways one dream I bring, One vision braves the harsh unkindly air, The blighting human touch, the world's cold spring, The withering Autumn promise everywhere. PROSERPINE 6 S Fallen I found this broken branch of may That once soared high above the bluebell towers, Now in my soul it blooms from day to day, White with the joy of lost immortal hours. 6 7 Many are the sorrows of men as the waves of the sea, wandering to and fro with the rest- less tides, but One is the untroubled Fire that burns on the Hearth of the Universe, F 2 6 9 'THE SOUL ATTAINS' Oh strife too short, oh victory too dear, Deep in the artist's soul the flame burns cold, Freed from the goad of dreams, the lash of fear, He who attains, remembers, and grows old. Oh youthfulness of failure, the long hours Of uncrowned labour, unregarded toil, Are as the wintry seed of the spring flowers, The starry Hope that blossoms near the soil. Is there not precious metal to be wrung From the earth's heart and the streams' secret ways, The stories not yet told, the songs unsung, The dreams undreamed — oh, fair beyond all praise, 7 o < THE SOUL ATTAINS ' Like treasure buried underneath a hill, In some sea-guarded isle, or barren land, They wait the labour of the hero's will — The magic touch of the adventurer's hand. Joy dwells in austere deeds, the perilous climb That leads tired footsteps to the mountain height, And music trembles in the halting rhyme That scales with lagging steps the hill of light. Still are the world's unseen yet crowned powers, The courage and the ecstasy of toil, And the sweet wind-blown breath of the wild flowers, The starry Hope that blossoms near the soil. 7i LIS-AN-DOILL l Once in the year the ancient world grows young, For me alone there is no dream of spring, Alas there are many songs to be sung — New songs and old — I am too old to sing. Songs of the constant world that never grows Tired of green boughs— impatient of the may — That waits for the unfolding of the rose, On fire with hope to-day as yesterday. 1 * The Fort of the Blind Man.' 72 LIS-AN-DOILL I am too old — I pass the daisies by, And tread the grass down under tired feet. Time washes all the blue out of the sky — The very violets are no longer sweet. Even the constant spring is false to me, Not all the rosebuds ever yet unfurled, Nor any dream of roses yet to be, Can reconcile me to this evil world. Once in the year the young spring's green and gold Gleams in the sun and rustles in the wind ; Alas ! there is neither light for the old, Nor any dream of colour for the blind. 73 THE LITTLE WAVES OF BREFFNY The grand road from the mountain goes shining to the sea, And there is traffic in it and many a horse and cart, But the little roads of Cloonagh are dearer far to me, And the little roads of Cloonagh go ram- bling through my heart. A great storm from the ocean goes shouting o'er the hill, And there is glory in it and terror on the wind, 74 LITTLE WAVES OF BREFFNY But the haunted air of twilight is very strange and still, And the little winds of twilight are dearer to my mind. The great waves of the Atlantic sweep storm- ing on their way, Shining green and silver with the hidden herring shoal, But the Little Waves of Breffny have drenched my heart in spray, And the Little Waves of Breffny go stum- bling through my soul. 75 MONNA LISA LEONARDO DA VINCI Her narrow eyelids radiantly obscure, Veiling the profound smile of her strange eyes, Trouble the Well where the world's secret lies Lost in blue grottoes icy cold and pure, Deep in the buried spirit of the Wise. 7 6 LA PENSEE RODIN Hiding in mazes of marble her chin sunk deep in the stone, She breaks away from the senses five, the warders of the soul, Alone in the wind-swept deeps of Being she seeks the Alone, The adventurer's innermost light the dreamer's perilous goal. 77 THE LOST STREAM Down this dry watercourse once long ago The Living Waters strong and clear and cold, Fresh from the mountain summit a'nd the snow, Shining with dreams, into the valley rolled. Now the green valley mourns, the rock- hewn bed Of the loud torrent lies sunstruck and still, The wild flowers droop, the very grass is dead, And the tired traveller faints on the parched hill. 78 THE PLACE OF PEACE The Fear that lurks in the crowded street And hides in the market-place, And follows the stranger with unseen feet And a half-averted face, Shall fly from the silence that sanctifies The lonely wood and the wind's held breath, From the sorrows of fools, and the dreams of the wise, And the shadows that darken the gates of death. 79 CLAIRVOYANTE Nothing that is vast enters into the life of mortals without a curse.— Antigone. Long ago a spirit was torn from the fire of the opal spheres, To light the lamp of the world with a spark from the infinite, Though dull is the lamp and stained with the smoke of the dusty years, Behind the dark glass burns ever a magic circle of light. Comrade, your soul goes crowned with an aura of gracious rays, Burning brighter about your brow as the sunbeams fade and cease — 80 CLAIRVOYANTE For passion and pity and love are the moon- light of your days, But in my soul is a flame of the pitiless astral peace. Wings that are pale with dreaming or folded in flaming wrath, Crowd round us rainbow-hued through the shadows of dread and desire ; But in the mirror my soul has the shrivelled wings of a moth, Blackened and blistered and scorched by the magic circle of fire. 8i THE TRAVELLERS Was it not strange that by the tideless sea The jar and hurry of our lives should cease ? That under olive boughs we found our peace, And all the world's great song in Italy ? Is it not strange though Peace herself has wings And long ago has gone her separate ways, On through the tumult of our fretful days From Life to Death the great song chimes and rings ? G 82 THE TRAVELLERS In that sad day shall then the singing fail, Shall Life go down in silence at the end, And in the darkness friend be lost to friend, And all our love and dreams of no avail. You whose Love's melody makes glad the gloom Of a long labour and a patient strife, Is not that music greater than our life ? Shall not a little song outlast that doom ? 83 The Winged Hone shall be harnessed to many ploughs^ but in the end there is freedom^ and the aether vibrates with the rhythm of Unseen Light. G 2 §5 THE PROUD PHILOSOPHER Plotinus, like a proud and idle boy Ashamed to study in the lowest class, Himself the comrade of the sons of joy, Disdained the secrets of the earthbound grass. He sought not beauty in the dawn's pale fire, Nor sorrow in the stream of human tears, But mourned the broken wings of his desire, And loved the songs of far ancestral spheres. 86 THE PROUD PHILOSOPHER He knew whence he had come, there was no bar Between his spirit, into darkness hurled, And the blue deeps that mocked him from afar, Dreaming in sorrow over a lost world — - Shrinking before his mighty comrade's scorn, He hid from men the country of his birth, For shame and grief to think he had been born Far from the spheres of light on this dull earth. Unmoved he passed through mystic twilight hours, Flouted the very sunset on the hill, THE PROUD PHILOSOPHER 87 Brother of shadowy, proud immortal powers, Child of the spirit's iridescent will. He who thus claimed high lineage rent the veil Between the worlds, and tore away the cloud That hides the snowclad summit from the dale — The world is fairer for the Pure and Proud. 88 THE INCARNATE Deep in the soul there throbs the secret pain Of one homesick for dear familiar things, When Spring winds rock the waves of sun- lit rain And on the grass there falls the shadow of wings. How should one bend one's dreams to the dark clay Where carven beauty mixed with madness dwells ? And men who fear to die fear not to slay, And Life has built herself ten thousand hflls. THE INCARNATE 89 No wave that breaks in music on the shore Can purify the tiger's bloodstained den, The worms that crawl about the dark world's core Cry out aloud against the deeds of men. Alas the peace of these still hours and deep Is but a dream that wanders from afar, And the great Dreamer, turning in His sleep, Smothers in darkness all our little star. Yet in the gentle spirit of the wise Light flashes out through many a simple thing, The tired ploughman with impassive eyes, Knows in his heart that he was once a king. 9o THE INCARNATE He sees in dreams the crown long lost and dear, That glittered on a fallen spirit's brow, A shattered gleam from some far shining sphere Has dazed the eyes of him who drives the plough. The long brown furrows of the broken soil Lead in straight lines unto the sunset's gates, On high green hills, beyond the reach of toil, The vision of the twilight broods and waits. The silence folded in about the heart Whispers strange longings to the broken. soul, That lingers in a lonely place apart, Stretching vain hands to clasp the secret whole. 91 PROSERPINE IN HADES Proserpina, who sought for poppies, fell Beyond the reach of summer and sweet flowers, Content to reign amongst the Lords of Hell, Queen of grey shades and dreams and out- cast Powers. Was she content ? — nay, Charon saw her weep, When Orpheus came from the bright world above, And sang his way across the twilight deep, And found and lost his unforgotten love. 92 PROSERPINE IN HADES Was she not dreaming of fair meadow lands, And sunlit rivers, when that Other came ? And the spheres broke like glass beneath His hands, And souls rushed forth in spires of wander- ing flame. The Light beyond all dreams of hours and days, The Songs that break their way from sphere to sphere, In broken gleams they pierced the sunless ways, And bound her soul to hopes that once were dear. 93 PROSERPINE ENTHRONED All day she reigns in dreams amongst the dead, At night, strong-winged, she flames across the skies, O'er the dark world her floods of light are shed, The silver goddess of the pure and wise. Oh ! soul that gropes on through the drowsy day Amongst dead thoughts and deeds and fad- ing flowers, Dost thou not leave at night the foolish clay, To join the starry throng of radiant Powers ? 94 PROSERPINE ENTHRONED Rising amongst the gods on moonlit wings, Dost thou not drive thy fiery winged steeds Right through the sheer abyss and soul of things, Forgetting the dull round of dreams and deeds ? Incarnate Spirit fallen from great light, Doomed many days in darkness to endure, Thou art yet Proserpine — the Queen of Night — The Silver Goddess of the Wise and Pure. 95 THE BODY TO THE SOUL You have dragged me on through the wild wood ways, You have given me toil and scanty rest, I have seen the light of ten thousand days Grow dim and sink and fade in the West. Once you bore me forth from the dusty gloom, Weeping and helpless and naked and blind, Now you would hide me deep down in the tomb, And wander away on the moonlit wind. 96 THE BODY TO THE SOUL You would bury me like a thing of shame, Silently into the darkness thrust, You would mix my heart that was once a flame With the mouldering clay and the wandering dust. The eyes that wept for your sorrowful will Shall be laid among evil and unclean things, The heart that was faithful through good and ill You scorn for a flutter of tawdry wings. You were the moonlight, I lived in the sun ; Could there ever be peace between us twain ? I sought the Many, you seek the One, You are the slayer I am the slain. THE BODY TO THE SOUL 97 Oh I soul when you mount to your flame- built throne Will you dream no dream of the broken clay ? Will you breathe o'er the stars in your path- way strown, No sigh for the daisies of yesterday ? As you wander the shining corridors, A lonely wave in the ocean of light, Have you never a thought of the lake's lost shores, Or the fire-lit cottage dim and white ? Shall not the dear smell of the rain-wet soil Through the windless spheres and the silence float ? Shall not my hands that are brown with toil Take your dreams and high desires by the throat ? H 9 8 THE BODY TO THE SOUL Behold, I reach forth from beyond the years, I will cry to you from beneath the sod, I will drag you back from the starry spheres, Yea, down from the very bosom of God. You cannot hide from the sun and the wind, Or the whispered song of the April rain, The proud earth that moulds all things to her mind, Shall gather you out of the deeps again. You shall follow once more a wandering fire, You shall gaze again on the starlit sea, You shall gather roses out of the mire : Alas, but you shall not remember me. 99 RE-INCARNATION \ — The darkness draws me, kindly angels weep Forlorn beyond receding rings of light, The torrents of the earth's desires sweep My soul through twilight downward into night. Once more the light grows dim, the vision fades, Myself seems to myself a distant goal, I grope among the bodies' drowsy shades, Once more the Old Illusion rocks my soul. H 2 i oo RE-INCARNATION Once more the Manifold in shadowy streams Of falling waters murmurs in my ears, The One Voice drowns amid the roar of dreams That crowd the narrow pathway of the years. I go to seek the starshine on the waves. To count the dewdrops on the grassy hill, I go to gather flowers that grow on graves, The world's wall closes round my prisoned will. Yea, for the sake of the wild western wind . The sphered spirit scorns her flame-built throne, Because of primroses, time out of mind, The Lonely turns away from the Alone. RE-INCARNATION 101 Who once has loved the cornfield's rustling sheaves, Who once has heard the gentle Irish rain Murmur low music in the growing leaves, Though he were god, comes back to earth again. Oh Earth ! green wind-swept Eirinn, I would break The tower of my soul's initiate pride For a gray field and a star-haunted lake, And those wet winds that roam the country side. 1 who have seen am glad to close my eyes, I who have soared am weary of my wings, I seek no more the secret of the wise, Safe among shadowy, unreal human things. 102 RE-INCARNATION Blind to the gleam of those wild violet rays That burn beyond the rainbow's circle dim, Bound by dark nights and driven by pale days, The sightless slave of Time's imperious whim ; Deaf to the flowing tide of dreams divine That surge outside the closed gates of birth, The rhythms of eternity, too fine To touch with music the dull ears of earth — I go to seek with humble care and toil The dreams I left undreamed, the deeds undone, To sow the seed and break the stubborn soil, Knowing no brightness whiter than the sun. RE-INCARNATION 1 03 Content in winter if the fire burns clear And cottage walls keep out the creeping damp, Hugging the Old Illusion warm and dear, The Silence and the Wise Book and the Lamp. 104 THE SOUL TO THE BODY The lamp has gone out in your eyes, The ashes are cold in your heart, Yet you smile indifferent-wise, Though I depart — though I depart. I was the Joy that made you young, The Light on the moon-haunted sea, The soul of each song that was sung, And the heart of Mystery. I was the Harper old and blind, The Breaker of Waves on the shore, The sorrow that cries on the wind — I weep no more — I weep no more. THE SOUL TO THE BODY 105 I was the Cloud that made your grief In the grey twilight of the year, Now you fall like a fallen leaf, Without a tear — without a tear. I was the Force that made you strong From your brain to your finger tips, And lifted your heart in a song, And fashioned the words on your lips : I was the Hour that made you great, I was the deed you left undone, The soul of love — the heart of hate, I was the cloud that hid the sun* I was the Light that made you wise, I was the Dream that broke your heart — Now the tears are dry in your eyes Though I depart — though I depart. 107 In spite of the laughter of the fauns, Athene played on the pipes until she caught sight of her distorted face reflected in a stream. Many melodies could not compensate her for the troubled deeps of the Divine Beauty \ so in sorrow she gave away her pipes to the children of this world. Since then Wisdom has smoothed out the wrinkles of wrath and desire from her quiet brow, the crying of the Little Waves trouble no more the deep waters of Silence, the stars fade in the moonlight, and many sorrows have dreamed themselves into the one Peace. For the voice of Wisdom and of the Silence is the music of the world. 109 V- CONTENTS PAGE FROM SUNLIT MEADOWS . . . . .V THE ONE AND THE MANY I IN THE PINEWOODS 3 THE EYES OF THE BLIND 5 OCTOBER 7 PEACE . 9 THE QUEST 10 SYMBOLS 13 THE REVOLT AGAINST ART 1 5 FROM THE WEST COAST 1 8 'THE GREAT GOD HAS BEEN RELEASED FROM DARKNESS' 19 THE ANCIENT WISDOM 21 no CONTENTS PAGE THE CITY 23 A DREAM 25 INFLUENCE 31 THERE IS NO AGE 33 THE THISTLE . . . . . .35 THE INNER LIGHT > > 37 THE LADDERS OF LIFE 39 ASPIRATION 43 TIME 47 THE TRUCE OF GOD 49 THE MERCIFUL KNIGHT . . . . . .50 A SPIRIT IN PRISON 5 1 THE WEAVER 53 THE DESOLATE ARMY . 56 THE LAND TO A LANDLORD 58 TO A FRIEND . . . . . , . . 6l FROM THE GARDEN OF PROSERPINE . . .63 * THE SOUL ATTAINS ' 69 i CONTENTS 1 1 1 PAGE LIS-AN-DOILL 7 1 THE LITTLE WAVES OF BREFFNY . . • > 73 MONNA LISA 75 LA PENSEE 76 THE LOST STREAM 77 THE PLACE OF PEACE 78 CLAIRVOYANTE 79 THE TRAVELLERS 8 1 THE PROUD PHILOSOPHER . . . .85 THE INCARNATE 88 PROSERPINE IN HADES 91 PROSERPINE ENTHRONED 93 THE BODY TO THE SOUL 95 RE-INCARNATION 99 THE SOUL TO THE BODY 104 Spottisvjoode & Co. 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