The Sign of the Tree HARRIET MASON KILBURN Class. Bookl. fopwightF /^ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE SIGN OF THE TREE BY HARRIET MASON KILBURN BOSTON SHERMAN, FRENCH 6- COMPANY 1913 COPYKIGHT, 1913 Sherman, French 6^ Company ©CLA358643 TO THE MEMORY OF MY FATHER AND MOTHER AVERY PLUMER AND CAROLINE METCALF PLUMER NOTE The poems "Candlemas" and "Words" are reprinted here with the kind permission of the editors of the American Magazine. CONTENTS PAGE The Apprentice at Prayer 1 Louis in Sainte Chapelle 13 Rex Regium 15 A Child's Christmas Prayer .... 20 Justice 21 "Love Falleth Never Away" .... 24 Harvesting 26 Candlemas 28 The Pilgrim and the Angel .... 30 A Theologian Soliloquizes 32 A Prayer for Katharine 40 Autumn 41 A Winter Walk 42 To Christina of Denmark, Duchess of Milan 43 Rosa Rosarum 44 Love 45 Union 46 Greetings 47 Love in Absence 48 To A Charming Old Maid 50 Words 51 Menuetto 52 Libera me, Domine ! 54 "Aus DER Harzreise" 55 To the Unknown God 58 THE APPRENTICE AT PRAYER Lord of our goodly Guild, Give me to make things fair ! Great Master Carpenter! O hear my prayer That I may build, With hammer, plane, and square. All true and sound, brave roof -trees, where My brothers may find shelter from the night: What time the tender evening star burns up Her Avistful taper; and the warm, clear light Of tranquil sunset falls Red-golden, radiant, upon the walls That I would Kft, — wherein the tired labourer may sup. Wherein glad mothers may be keeping Homely, sweet watch o'er little children, sleeping In carven cradles — mine. Lord, — ^wrought so rare That all the baby elves. Awaking, Round-eyed, within their beds, when day is breaking. May laugh to see themselves. In sunny morning beams. Droller and sweeter far, all dancing there. Than ever in their funny little dreams 1 [1] Good Craftsman, let me make one beauteous marriage bed! Artificer of Love, how I would go The happier — I, who may not know The master-workman's full creative joy, — If I might shed One ray of comeliness On Love ! O let my chisel but caress The couch where happy lovers wed. If I, Love's 'Prentice, might employ My humble craftsmanship in serving Love : bear part In Love's adorning ; from my thankful heart I would break forth in singing, How gladly ringing In grateful unison with this my hammer swing- ing To build all beautiful the nest Wherein Thy homing birds, with pinions inter- lac'd, should find their perfect rest. Lord, I would turn Thee trenchers fair and round ! Bordured with leaves and tendrils to entwine Globes of clear colour, liquid, yet adust With purple bloom ; and through the Vine I'd thrust Thy goodly yellow spears of Wheat: That, when Thy children sat at meat, [2] They might abound In gracious thoughts and glad of One who so hath fed Body and spirit: hath contriv'd each common thing To breed such beautiful imagining, — That. — eating but their daily bread: Rejoicing in their corn and wine — They might adore, As in a shrine, The Giver of the feast: rise up to bless And name Thee Lord of Loveliness For evermore. Master ! to pleasure Thee in this my task Is all I ask; Yet verily I think to labour Best unto Thee, my God, in serving so my neighbour. My fathers thought To find Thee alway in their holy places ; And ever do the Scribes and Pharisees, With sweeping garments, broad phylacteries, Bring special tribute; plead for special graces, Within the Temple court. But I? — Lord, I must praise And honour Thee in all my common ways ! I would believe that Thou hast meant Thy Servant — ^born indeed of David's line, [3] Yet different From these my kinsfolk — to divine Thy presence otherwhere Than in Jerusalem. O not within a sanctuary apart From daily traffic and the public mart I look to find Jehovah shrin'd. Here in good Joseph's shop I stand At prayer. I need not stay my busy hand, Nor leave my workman's bench, to share Thy mysteries. Nay, Lord, Thy glory shineth clear Upon Thy 'Prentice working here I Thy Holiest of Holies nevermore be set apart: Here I do homage, at my brother's heart! Was not my Birthday Star a sign To me and mine.? Almighty [ is it but a childish fable That, verily, Shechinah blaz'd within a stable.? II Oft have I heard my Mother tell How it befell: — Her time of travail at the crowded inn Of Bethlehem. How they sped [4] Her fainting forth ; and laid her even in the bin Whereat good country creatures fed ! The ox and ass were standing by, The while she mounted up the steeps of pain ; And when she fell to peace, how they were fain To see her lie, — Mysteriously troubled, marvellously glad, — My gentle INIother ! — when at length she had Her quiet hour; lay rapt in Sabbath rest; Worshipping the Wonder-Child upon her breast. Perchance rough, kindly women came to show Some tenderness ; and made my little bed Within the hay; And even the oxen seemed as they might know ! For father Joseph saith That all the cattle touched me where I lay — But softly — and how soft their breath. All milky-sweet, did play Homely and warm, upon the Baby's head! What of the splendours of my Star? 'Tis said three royal wizards travell'd far. Marking its brilliance: that they came To bear me gratulation, bringing Their honourable frankincense and myrrh. Lord, is it false? Do these my lovers err That boast how kings have feared my fame? — How shepherds, dreaming on the sward At midnight, saw the coming of the Lord Amid celestial cohorts; heard celestial singing? [5] I know not ! — Yet I think fond love hath wrought Such ravishment of sense and thought: Hath wove a wonder-web so dazzHng bright That it doth veil my earthly coming in a mystic light, B;urning to whitest white The clear, gay colours of the Blessed Night. Yet still supernal splendours from above Irradiate every little child of love ! Yea, Lord of Life, 'tis true, And passing sweet. That Thou didst open Heaven to mortal view, And show the ancientry of Earth Like to an heavenly vision — recreated, new, — When Love Immortal came to mortal birth. How doth humanity repeat. In joyous antiphon to-day. The Advent angels' midnight carolling: How country hind and crowned king Still journey from afar to bring Their gifts of honour: still display Treasures of adoration at the Baby's feet f The Baby ! — Lord, I ween 'Twas verily the shepherds first that saw The manifesting of the ancient law — For them the Christmas Glory shin'd. [6] And they — good clowns — Were they not wonted but to mind Their browsing sheep : Wonted to wake and sleep Nightly amid such braveries? To see the dusky green Of all the quiet-spreading Syrian downs — Transmuted magically — tremble into silver light, Wave upon wave of verdure shimmering sheen? Might they not watch the miracle of moonlight growing From fair to fairer yet? see starshine flowing, Thrilling the waiting dark to beauty? see the earth, outleaping, catch The living radiance : lying gloriously dight, Apparell'd crystal-pure to meet and match High heavenly splendours of an orient night? So when the Advent Star shone down Upon the dark, still town Of Bethlehem, I think the watchful shepherds gaz'd. Indeed with awe, and happiness unutterable; but not amaz'd. Perchance the flocking angels — floating, singing Within the amethystine deeps, — to them were bringing [7] Only the fair fulfillment of their gracious dreaming ; For them did Heaven open sweet and natural- seeming. So should Messiah come ! Yea — and how com- fortable To find the King of kings thron'd upon straw ; His royal welcome beaming Bright through an open door — Open to all His own — ^Emmanuel keeping state within a stable 1 Father! Thou hast unfurl'd The scroll clear-writ for all the coming ages: Kindled the flame that must illuminate and warm the world, By means of simple-hearted mages ! So that the chilly centuries; yearning Abroad for fire in cold and darkness; turning Innumerable sheaves Of dusty leaves; Ruffling dull tomes of bygone state — Thinking to find Sibylline oracles therein enshrin'd — May rest at ease, close in the ingle-nook, And look, Enchaunted, in the volume of their fate; Smiling to find it but a picture-book : [8] Rejoicing how they are beguiPd: Eager to scan the brightly-coloured pages All figured fair with homely beasts and rustic sages Bending before a Mother and a newborn Child! Ill Behold me, Lord! a carpenter's Apprentice, — yet Thy true Anointed, here and now ! — These drops of sweat The sacred chrism of labour on my brow ; This bench of mine the Altar of the Highest; Lo, these my carver's tools — chalice and paten, mine, Wherein I proffer sacramental Bread and Wine To all my Fellowship. Here I come nighest, O Master Craftsman, unto Thee ! Here I lift up My human heart — a common earthen cup Empty for service: ready to be fill'd With sweet and bitter drops distill'd Above. Most gracious Lord! Hear Thou the Prayer of Thine Apprentice! O afford A generous vintage! So shall it be pour'd [9] Again to feed and hearten these my brothers here, Enriched by earthly savours, flowing clear From out the homely vessels of my labour and my love 1 I hear my fellows prate Of serving Thee within the Temple gate — Curiously beautifying and burnishing Thy sanctuary furnishing To Sabbath splendour. Nay, but. Lord, I err Who thus deride them ! They do never ill That offer loving service. Yet, I would prefer. If it might be Thy will. To make my daily labour all my prayer: To build Thee tabernacles everywhere. Eternal! I do not ask To rear Thee costly shrines to dwell in. Let my task Be rather but to make Sound things and strong, for this my brother's sake. Lord, I would even choose To mend the children's toys: Make whole again the broken baubles that Thy little ones must use To live the happier — turn their griefs to joys. Is not the cheerful beat Of happy little children's feet [10] The sweetest earthly sound that I may ever hear — Most musical of all That fall Upon my listening ear, In Nazareth's quiet street? Yet there be cripples too ! — Father, it is not much I fain would fashion — not a bauble even, — nay, a crutch. A crutch ? — A Cross 1 O how I did only touch. Fondling, the thought of simple human pleas- ures. Like manhood lingering upon childish treas- ures — Caressing but to put them by For graver things and fairer I So must I Touch these my toys how tenderly! Though well I know. Indeed, the aweful way that I shall go To victory : though strong, sustaining wings Bear through infinitudes of heavenly things My soul expectant; yet — I would not lose One grain of sweetness from my earthly store. And so I muse, Happy and sorrowful at once, before My open door: — Musing, the while I wait in quietude Upon my coming hour to rear the Rood : [11] Praying, in the calm that quickens to my Passion, Only that Love will give what Love must make Strongly to stand: Inform with loveliness for Love's own sake. Behold Thy Server, God! pleading, with out- stretched hand: Lord of our gracious craft ! O give, — that I may take My Cross ! — fairest of all fair things that Love can fashion. [13] LOUIS IN SAINTE CHAPELLE "What Saint Louis of France discerned, and found so irresistibly touching, across the dimness of many cen- turies, as a painful thing done for love of him by one he had never seen." Pater's: "Marius the Epicurean." Jesu, my Lord ! here would I ever be ! Here, in the jewelPd gloom Of this fair-colour'd shrine — this precious room Which I do consecrate and give to Thee To be Thy bower;— With Blanche my Lady-Mother's castles to Thy dower ; And all the lilies of my France in flower! Be this Thy garden, where I set to bloom Sprigs pluck'd from Calvarie, Thy Garland, with a branch from off that Tree Where Thou didst hang for me — to bear my doom. Make them to root. And spring to living greenness here ! Soon may they shoot: Bearing Thee ruddy blossoms and sweet fruit! [13] Jesu! let Louis be the fruit and flower To bourgeon from the wood Of this Thy Crown of Thorn, Thy cruel Rood ! Lord, when I mind me of that aweful hour When Thou wast slain — Dying for love of me unknown to Thee — I'd fain Give all myself to Thee in love again ! THE ENVOY Saviour! Thy dying and Thy love not all in vain See how, within the Rood, Sweet sap hath quickened the wither'd wood ! Yea, France and Louis now Thy Crown of Pain Would wear: would be the fruit And blossom growing up from Calvarie's root, — Perfum'd and colour'd all of Love, the twain ! Didst Thou not break a Lance For love of Louis, and for this Thy Finance ? So France and Louis would be all Thy gain. Lord! when we see What Love itself is — how do we bum to be Like Love ! to take the Cross ! to die for Thee ! [14] REX REGIUM Good Masters, wherefore throw ye wide the doore ? Doth not the winter winde blow chill and f rore ? What meanes the hopefull hollie twining With red and greene, Your lattices betweene? And why these manie candles shining So faire and farre into the bitter street, Each one set like a starre, to guide some traveller's feet? And hark ye ! how the chimes be swinging, ringing ! And here come lads and lasses — trooping, singing. THE WAITS Noel! Noel! Our little Lord Emmanuel Is come! is come! Dark the December night; hut here he love and light! Prince Jesu, welcome home! Where would ye lodge sweet Mary, all foredone With travailing to beare her little Sonne? Make you readie your hostelrie ! [16] Heap high the fire, And pile the couch yet higher With hnen f aire and cramoisie ! Nay ; let them house without there, in the stable ! Withinne we holde carouse. This night we are not able To give them roome. Againe the chiming, singing ! How shrillie cleare the carolling a'ringing! THE WAITS Noel! Noel! Our little Lord Emmanuel Is come! is come! Dark the December night; but here be love and light! Prince Jesu, welcome home! Now men and maids, beginne your wassailing ! "Was haile ! Drink haile ! To Thee, our Lorde and King 1" Fill uppe the ribbon'd bowl a'swimmlng With royal clove, Meet for the lippes of Love [ Give them the spicie cup high brimming I Yea, hyssop too and vinegar to-morrow We'll bring the Man ! We brew the Maid a cup of sorrow I [16] "Was haile! Drink haile !" Mark the chimes thrilling, ringing: "Come all ye, Masters! come ye, trolling, smging !" THE WAITS Noel! Noel! Our little Lord Emmanuel Is come! is com£! Dark the December night; but here be love and light! Prince Jesu, welcome home! Will ye plucke Chrystmasse roses white and red To plait a garland for your Saviour's head? Yea, but the crowne that we be weaving The Newlie-Bome, — 'Tis but a Crowne of Thorne ; And for our Blessed Lord's receiving A Garden faire we plant; that He may see. The while He kneels at prayer, bloomes of Geth- semane ! Planting we singf Sing we all weaving! singing To birthday bells how sweet! rejoicing, ringing ! [17] THE WAITS Noel! Noel! Our little Lord Emmanuel Is come! is com^! Dark the December night; hut here he love and light! Prince Jesu, welcome home! What would you have your Babie Princehng wear ? A royal Purple Robe, furr'd warme with vair, His liegemen lend to His adorning. Happ'd to the throat Withinne a Seamelesse Coat, We dress Him, — readie for the Scorning. We'd make a Reede His bauble: Dolours Seven We offer her in deede our Ladie Queene of Heaven ! Crowne we our King! — all honour bringing — ringing : "Hosanna in the Highest !" Lauding, sing- ing. THE WAITS Noel! Noel! Our little Lord Emmanuel Is come! is come! Dark the December night; hut here he love and light! Prince Jesu, welcome home! [18] Good people, will ye set your King on high? Yea, look you where all starke against the skie His kingly glorie doth attend Him ! Uppe to the Rood Our Jesu's Gentlehood We lift! He hangs, with none to friend Him. Raignes He alone? Alone! nay. Crosses Three The splendour of His throne — on Calvarie ! "In Excelsis Gloria!" ringing, singing! "O Exultate Deo!" singing, ringing! THE WAITS Noel! Noel! Our little Lord Emmanuel Is coTTie! is come! Dark the December night; but here be Love and Light! King Jesu, welcome Home! [19] A CHILD'S CHRISTMAS PRAYER Little Lord Jesu, let me bring My toys to Thee, dear Brother and King! As wise men travelled long and far, Following the road of a golden star. Not to the treasure that they should get. At the journey's end, their feet were set; For all the longing their hearts did lift Was to bring Thee their best as a birthday gift. So, Baby from Heaven, I bring my joys All to Thee, for Thine earthly toys. Dear little Jesu, accept and play With me and my treasure on Christmas Day I [20] JUSTICE 'He took a little child, and set him by His side." When I was only three or four, Pla} ing one day about the door, I made a beautiful mud-pie ! It looked so good I had to try To taste it. — I did long to eat Things that were sugary and sweet: I might not have them — that w^as why I tried to eat my pie. But — O, it wasn't good at all, Nor sweet ! I turned me to the wall And wept my heart out loud and long. I felt before that it was wrong To taste the pie ; but now I knew: The savour of it made me rue My sin: to taste confirmed surmise 'Twas wrong to eat mud-pies ! Then my good mother passed my way. She had been visiting that day ; She wore some sort of shiny bonnet. And a silken gow^n with fringe upon it. Just my poor dirty, tear-stained face ; My broken pie ; my small disgrace Quick anger'd her; — and from her mood. She whipp'd me where I stood. [21] I'd felt conviction deep of sin Until she came — far, far within My baby soul was hurt and sore: Self-punish'd I had been before My mother punish'd me: but when She struck — O, then it was, just then I fell ! A fallen angel, I Was glad I ate my pie ! II "And they say unto her: 'Woman, why weepest thou?' She saith unto them: 'Because they have taken away my Lord, and I know not where they have laid Him.' " I wanted Love ! Deep chill'd in mire, I reach'd for the Immortal Fire To warm me ; snatch'd one red-hot coal For mine 1 Then sear'd me in my soul Love ? — nay, phantasmal, ice-cold Lust ! Yet, where I grovell'd in the dust, Love touch'd me, that I thrill'd and yearn'd,- Yes, God! — ^His finger bum'd! Now virtuous women pass me by; They do not speak to such as I ! They lash me with a sidelong look The while they go; — ^because I took [22] From Love's high altar, one poor brand That broke to ashes in my hand. False-flaming, yet it burned how well To light me down to Hell 1 God's punishing had made me whole Perhaps ; had heal'd my sicken'd soul. I wanted Love Divine — not Lust. Your virtue trails me in the dust — The burned-out ashes of this hell Where I and mine for ever dwell. Yea, sneer and pass I Your harlot, I ! Good Christian passer-by ! Love touch'd me ! O, I sometimes think On comers where I lurk and slink ; Or in high places where I vaunt Your shame and mine — that Love will haunt My slimy steps ; till, face to face. His toucli buiTis white my dark disgrace ! But — Christ save that His creatures damn?- Let me be what I am 1 [23] "LOVE FALLETH NEVER AV^AY" "Love falleth never away I" How I wondered to hear that day Of a Love abiding ; In the shadows hiding. 'Twas in Church, and I waited to pray. Love falleth never away. "Love falleth never away !" Now I think that I hear them say — • All the beating looms Of the rhythmic rooms In the mill where I work all day: "Love falleth never away !" "Love falleth never away 1" I am young, and I want to play. I want loving and living; I want growing and giving: — my youth pulses strong to-day ! Love falleth never away 1 "Love falleth never away !" 1 am old and weary and grey; So I long for the gloom Of my small still room. O the spindles that may not stay ! — Love falleth never away.'' [24] *'Lovc f alleth never away 1" It is hot in the mill in May. Is a buttercup springing, A bluebird singing, Where it's green and cool? Did they say "Love f alleth never away?" "Love f alleth never away !" I thought I heard them say. — Love, dear Love ! come down To the cruel town — Oh, Thy children need Thee ! Yea, Love f alleth never away ! [25] HARVESTING WHITSUNDAY IN THE COUNTRY The little, dusky church is all aglow ; Flames, leaping from the altar tapers, show Wine-red the flowers that veil the Cross, and cling Flamelike, about the Symbol of Love's harvesting. The Children march, bearing their sheaves of May. Cherry and apple blooms for Whitsunday, To deck the shrine of Love, gleam pink and white Among the little heads, rose-flushed and crowned with light. Pure as white flame, the childish praises wing Their happy way to God. The babies sing Shrilly and sweet ; then stir, and flutter low ; Waiting to feel the Spirit enter, ere they go. Without, — an "upper room" of tender blue 1 Sunshine ; clouds warm with rain and kindly dew; Birds building; fields all brave in hopeful green Speak blessed, common things to come — things yet unseen ; [26] While orchard boughs innumerable fling high Their fires of rose and pearl into the sky, A million million tongues — to shout and sing: "Praise Love, the Lord of Life; and Love's high harvesting!" [27] CANDLEMAS THE PURIFICATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY Christ's Church bears Hghts to-day. His altars lift Fair candles, burning clean. Sweet odours rise Votive, where Mary's lilies wear their whiteness like the gift Of innocence: — laid undefil'd Before a Mother and a Child ; And Latin pride renews her ancient mys- teries. The dark, ill-smelling, all unsavoury street. Littered and blown by dirty windrif t ; pil'd Foul with its garbage ; shrill with outcries harsh and scuffling feet Of filthy children at their play : — The street burns brave and high to-day Candles to Mary, Mother; and the Holy Child. Where slattern housewives ply their futile brooms. And lazy harlots list the pedlar's call : — Crouching on kerb or doorstep, leaning out from frowsy rooms, [28] Murmur in tender baby-speech The httle sistcr-niothers ; each Cradhng her God within a Httle, dirty shawl. Poor son-y God of Love ! — unlovely, thin, Wizen with hunger; sin-diseas'd ; in mirth Unmirthful; — hushed and warmed of brooding rapture ; gather'd in, Worshipp'd and comforted — yea, press'd Close to a virgin-mother's breast: — Where Love Divine brings Loveliness itself to birth ! THE ENVOY Burn no brave lights within this broken clay? Stands not the Virgin forth in white array? Is not the Child our very God to-day? [29] THE PILGRIM AND THE ANGEL "Si Von pouvait demander a un ange ce que nos dmes font dans V ombre, je crois qu'il r^pondrait: 'Elles transforment en beauU les petites choses qu'on leur donne.' " Maurice Maeterlinck: "Le Trisor des Humbles." THE PILGRIM What doth my Soul in the Dark? O say — Thou Angel guarding this house of clay \ Do I wake or sleep — Do I smile or weep — As I journey up through the hidden way Where I dwell in the far, far deep? Angel of Comfort, I fain would know How my Soul f areth on 1 Do I feast below ? Is clear water springing? Are bright birds winging The bloom and the green? Is it gay where I go- That I think to hear music ringing? THE ANGEIi Child of the Dark ! Fellow-Pilgrim of mine ! We tarry to-night in a wayside shrine : Yet the flutings of Love Fall faint from above And we take the immortal Bread and Wine From a mystical Carrier-Dove! [30] Soul, moving slow through the blackness here, Abiding the breaking of morning clear, Fare on ! Thou art growing But Love's own sowing, Whose harvest of Loveliness draweth near: Yea, look up ! see the day-star glowing ! THE PILGRIM Angel, hark how the flutes blow fair! How the triumphing trumpets peal and blare! 'Tis the end of night — Lo, the day dawns bright — My birthday 1 Dear Angel, what gifts may I bear? — What sheaves to the Lord of Light? THE ANGEL Bind for Love's harvest thy laughter, thy weeping ; All thy fire of desire; every joy of thy keeping; Love-labour — full measure ; Soul ! toys of thy leisure ; The tears of the years ; — O thy failing. His reaping Bear up to thy God for treasure ! [31] A THEOLOGIAN SOLILOQUIZES Sometimes I think the grown-ups do not know So very much! because — O, long ago, When I was httle, only six or seven — They used to tell about a place called Heaven. They said that all good people, when they died, — If they had not been naughty, but had tried With all their might and main, to do the things They ought, — got beautiful white feathery wings. Like angels in the pictures ; and would fly Up to a big, bright place far in the sky. Where God lived in behind some gates : — and that was Heaven. I didn't mind it very much ; but I was only six or seven. But when I read about it in that book — The Bible (Church seems shorter if you look At something when you have to sit and sit While that man talks), I did not think that it Seemed like an interesting place to stay : Well — not a place where you could really play! And full of elders : — that's another word For grown-up people, I have somewhere heard. [3a] Besides, a place witliout a bit of sea, (Except a glassy one) did seem to me A funny place for little boys. I really even Thought I should simply hate to die and have to fly away to Heaven ! You sec, in Church I mostly had to read The things in Revelations ; for you need To have the interesting places found: — Jesus and all the people sitting 'round To eat things from a basket, out of doors ; Joseph and Pharaoh ; Moses giving laws To all those children ; and some fighting things, Stories — about the Judges and the Kings. The Bible's rather thick : but as INIiss Brown (^ly governess) would shake her head and frown If I just whispered: w^ould she please to find where Stephen Was, — why — I looked at Adam in his garden first, and then at Heaven. Well — Father came to stay ! Of course he'd been So much from home that he had hardly seen i\Ic ; for he'd had to travel far away When I was born : almost the very day That ^lothcr went to Heaven, and I came : Because things didn't seem one bit the same With Mother gone ; and only me, so small That I could be no company at all. [33] (You know what babies are 1 They cry and stare And cry, and look so silly lying there !) No wonder Father stayed till I was more than seven Away from home, — when I was small, and Mother'd had to go to Heaven. O it was simply wonderful — the change That Father's coming made ! It seemed so strange To have a person who could understand: Who thought 'twas fun to play the games I planned ; Someone who never made a bit of fuss If things sometimes got a rather in a muss When we were busy. (Women aren't that way: I really think they don't know how to play !) But Father loved to do just everything That I did ; and he always let me bring My toys to show him — yes, and ask him ques- tions even When he was writing: so one day I thought I'd ask him about Heaven. (I heard ]\Iiss Brown say somebody was dead; And that's what really put it in my head) ; So I asked : "Father, please I want to know All about Heaven ; and why you have to go [34] There, if you're good, If you don't like it much. I shouldn't want to die and go to such A place, I know, — if it is like the book. And Daddy, tell me, why do people look So solemn, and talk underneath their breath When people die? Please, Father, what is death? I didn't care so much when I was only seven ; But now I'm almost eight, I'd like to know all about going to Heaven." I think that it was quite a big surprise To Father ; for he lifted up his eyes Off from his book, and looked so hard at me, And queerly too, — as if he didn't see His little boy, but some quite strange new thing Instead ; — and it was rather frightening Just for a minute: then he laughed, so I Knew 'twas all right ; and then he said : "I'll try, Old fellow, to help you to see things straight ; But I'm afraid that you will have to wait As I am waiting — and you know I'm more than seven ! — To know much of that place you hear some people talk about as 'Heaven.' " "Just one thing I can tell you — and it's this : That Heaven is only where Our Father is: Where we may hear his voice and see his face, [35] And live with him in such a j oily place ; And see the very things we want to see ; And be what we have always tried to be — Like Father ; — that is Heaven, my dear old man. And death? — well — death I hardly think I can Explain. Let's wait, and we shall find some day That death is nothing but an easy way To get to him. Our Father! For I believe it's even Easier than you and I imagine — far, to take the road for Heaven !" Then Father said I'd better not go on With reading all the things that man. Saint John Wrote about Heaven. Because he didn't know About it, more than I ! ( I'd worried so About those elders, and the harps and things !) And Father said 'twas "vainy 'maginings." ( I know what that meant ; for once, when I smiled Into the glass, I was a "vainy child" They said: I didn't know 'twas wrong: I tried To make that boy smile back who stays inside.) I asked: were saints and grown-up people "vainy" even? And Father said, "O yes, 'twas mostly in a glass they looked at Heaven." "But Jesus thought perhaps a boy like me INIight find some things that grown-ups couldn't see." [36] I wasn't sure that I quite understood Just what He meant by that ; but it was good To know that Father knew; and I was glad I'd asked him ; for, you see, I never had To worry any more, until one day — it was dreadful ! — when I heard them say Father was ill. He had to be in bed. They wouldn't let me in. * * * O he was dead! 1 didn't know just what to do. I had never even Dreamed that my Father'd leave me here alone, and go away to Heaven ! It was a funny, lonely sort of day, — That time, just after Father went away. The blinds all drawn, and everything so black, — Except where just a little, shiny crack Of light came under Father's door: — I sat, And watched it, there outside, upon the mat; Until I got quite sleepy, and my head So tired — they came and carried me to bed. Next morning — now aren't grown-ups very queer.? — Miss Brown said : "Come and see your Father, dear" ( ! ) See him ! why, years ago, when I was hardly seven, I knew that when you died, you had to go far, far away to Heaven ! [37] I couldn't understand; but when I ran To Father's room, there really was a man Asleep, I thought, like Father, lying where He used to sleep ; — but — Father wasn't there \ I thought he must be; for 'twas like him too. But 'twasn't he! I don't know how I knew: 'Twas all that I could do just not to cry. But — O, a beautiful, great butterfly — Right in the room^ — flew out ! It was such fun To see him float and float up to the sun ! I had to run and watch him from the window. Even Just for a minute, I forgot that Father 'd gone away to Heaven 1 My Auntie and Miss Brown were vertf cross ! They asked me: did I "realise my loss?" That I could laugh with Father ''lying dead There in that room!'' (That's truly what they said !) And I was "heartless"; and — the hutter^y Just wasn't there at all! Vd told a lie! Of course it wasn't any use to' say A word. But when they told me I might play Down in the garden, under my big tree, I cried and cried, out where they couldn't see. It's babyish to cry, I know ; but Father even Wouldn't have cared that day ; I was dis- couraged 'cause he'd gone to Heaven. [38] I miss liim now ; but then I'm busy too. And I've a pony; and the grown-ups do Try rather hard, I think, to be as kind As they know how. So I don't really mind So very much all day, while it is light. But when I want my Father is at night. When I am all undressed, and put my head Into that little round place in the bed You make when 3^ou get down to say your prayer — then I xcish that Father would be there Beside me ! For although I'm so much more than seven, — I'm nearly eight, — I can't see why I need two Fathers up in Heaven ! I always slept in Father's room, and we Did have such fun [ He used to play with me ; And if I waked up frightened in the night. He always came to me, and made a light. And talked, — (Of course I was much smaller then. Now I am eight, and going to school) . So when 1 say: "O Daddy dear, who art in Heaven!" He seems close by, though I can't see him even ! And sometimes I pretend he isn't dead: He's just across there, in the other bed! But when I whisper "Father !" out into the black. Softly, — O how I wish sometimes that they would only answer back ! [39] A PRAYER FOR KATHARINE Written in the Prayer-Book given to a young girl upon her Confirmation Defend her, Lord! May Katharine be Happy and good confessing Theel Give her Thy hand, That she may stand! To every gracious vision sent O make Thine own obedient ! Keep her, in peace and strife, Close to Thy side. Until Thou open wide The gates of Light and Life! [40] AUTUMN O THE apples are red on the bending bough Of the Tree of Life ; and orchards now Their colours fly To a brave, blue sky, From strong, green branches a'swinging high ! Autumnal suns burn full and mellow On russet uplands, plum'd with yellow ; And the royal wold Where maples hold Their state is a splendour of living gold. From brush and stubble flaming clean, The pungent smoke that rises keen, Seems but to tell — Good, homely smell !^ — That living in dying things may dwell ; While the hearty voice of the Autumn wind Roars out a chaunt that is rough and kind: How death is at one With life begun Afresh ; that, spuming the flower, we run To seize the fruit that the gracious year Quickens to savour in falling sere. — Can the Tree be dead. When the apples are red.? Shall darkness endure, if the Flame be fed? [41] A WINTER WALK A SHIMMERING, icc-bluc couiitrj road that flows, Friendly in gracious curvings, up the hill ; With oaks of bronze, and birches pencilling still A sky all evening amethyst and rose. Each snowy ridge and furrow faintly glows From white to purple: every glittering rill, And flaming pool enamelled, seems to thrill Beneath the kiss the passing day bestows. A squirrel scampers through the golden light. And little pheasant foot-prints, dimly seen. Point home, where beckoning hamlet stars bum bright : While heavenly tapers, trembling from purest green, Quicken wayfarers in the dusk turn'd keen, — With thoughts like happy prayers to greet the night. [42] TO CHRISTINA OF DENMARK DUCHESS OF MILAN Painted by Hans liolbein the Younger Duchess and widow 1 Child ! what strange bright star Led down from Denmark's cradle to the court Of Milan? Hath Francesco Sforza sought Thy sweets of youth and loveliness to mar Or make but for an emperor? — Hapsburg bar To thrust through Lombard shield? Nay, Love but brought The northern birdling home ! — 'Twas joy that wrought That nuptial pageant : laughter ringing far 1 Did laughing pass with loving? Didst thou grieve? Yet roguery touched the lips great Holbein's hand Tinted with May-bloom. Shall not the girlish guile Of those enchaunting finger-tips but weave New nets for Love? Lady, how Time doth stand Waiting on Ravishment ! — Christina, smile ! £43] ROSA ROSARUM "A man ought to open out as a rose which can no longer stay shut." Dante : "Conmvio" Dante, dear Master! thy "Convivio" A "banquet"? Nay, a garden, bearing flowers Water'd of Wisdom ! All thy bitter showers Turn'd sweet ; and suns of centuries, warming slow The sullen soil, have made fresh roses blow — Deep-hearted, crimson ! I would build me bowers, Rose-garlanded, for happy-fruited hours: Tell me, great Gardener, how such roses grow ! Drink deep of Wisdom's waters all thy youth; Remember; look before thee ; hoard the truth Each day doth bring! Then may thy soul unclose Her perfum'd petals to the evening light: Rendering to all thy fellows, ere the night, Thy bloom, thy fragrance — like this radiant Rose \ [M] LOVE I WONDER could I be a poet? Hark! How the chauntlng nightingale but tells The secret message of the throbbing dark In her perfumed nocturn ! How from wells Aetherial of limpid blue the lark Draws up the draught of loveliness that swells And sparkles out in music f So I'd mark Our joys, — and ring them back like chiming bells. When soft, imperious sweetnesses are clinging About me — waking in the happy night; Or sound and colour, in the street, come winging — Fluting from out our past; fresh posies bringing ; And dance to meet me in the morning light ; — then I'd give you all our Love in singing ! [45] UNION O NAUGHT to me the midnight sea That sweeps us leagues apart! Do I not rest warm in Love's nest, Heart of my heart? Alone I stand? Nay, hand in hand With thee! No surging strife, No blackness bars — we see the stars — Life of my life! My spirit one with thine ; the sun Shining upon our goal That we have past ; — I hold thee fast, Soul of my soul! [46] GREETINGS A maiden's greeting go with you, Dian, dear maiden pilgrim ! sailing bright Your faery bark through deeps of blue, And silent surges flashing silver-white ! O greet me one who loves 1 Fond Cytherea, Love's own star! Thrill out your rosy radiance clear to sight ; Greet me my lad who's faring far; Let flame your torch for him and me to-night ! Quicken your gracious doves 1 Celestial Ladies, hear my prayer ! Haste ! — and may Phoebus, chariot-wing'd for flight, — Knowing the message that ye bear. Bring back a golden greeting with the light I Pray you speed well our loves 1 [4T] LOVE IN ABSENCE The Bliimlisalp blushes for morning breaking; Cuckoo and throstle call to life, awaking, Their early chaunt of love ; While dusky pines fling out fresh pungence keen. Shaken from branches emerald-crown'd and sheen, Far to the snows above. Over the flower-pastures purpling bright For Spring, how day comes dancing fleet and light; The merry measure keeping Of morning music, ringing rude, that tells Where happy creatures range ; and all their bells Chime to their foolish leaping. Kindles my soul to greet the daystar burning Clear through the dark, wherein I languish yearning To see thee; hear thy voice. My Love afar 1 Shall I rej ect the cup Of morning scent and sweetness brimming up For me ? Nay ; I rej oice ! [48] 'Tis not that I forget, O Heart of mine ! But — drinking deep of this enchaunted wine Pour'd from the fount of morning — Can I lament thee, when I feel thee near — My lips to thine? — Lo, day hath brought thee, Dear! I clasp thee in the dawning! [49] TO A CHARMING OLD MAID Thou white, shy Spinster ! wimpled grey in sweet sobrieties : DwelHng withdrawn from men ; Yet yearning innocent afar toward deep-col- our'd mysteries Beyond thy cloister'd ken ! wrap thee strait, lest Love the Colour-Bearer, chaunting high. Charming thee in the way. Should rend these pearly veils— triumphant ; flood thy white with crimson dye, — Before thy close of day ! [50] WORDS Words are such elvish things ! They come from nowhere, one by one, Tripping and dancing in the sun: Then meet, and lo — a httle poem that sings ! Words have such gracious ways ! They shine so softly from afar, Each like a single distant star: Then clasping, — kindle to a hymn of praise ! [61] MENUETTO One ! two ! three ! (Trip it not too free!) Tread to and fro, — Twining, turning slow: With the cadence ending, Curtseying deep, and bending In the Minuet. Antony Watteau Saw them dancing so: Marked each pearly throat, And flowery petticoat: Painted beauties vying With their ribands flying Through the Minuet. How pale colours, blending. Graced the measure, sending Rosy notes and blue All the mazes through; For the gentlemen Matched the ladies then: — Dancing the Minuet [52] In coats of satin sheen — Saffron too, and green — That set the gallants well: Venice ruffles fell Over jewels glowing; Silver sword-knots flowing In the Minuet. Hark to the music tell Time like a triple bell, Rung from the clavichord ! Look you where the lord Of measure — smiling, swaying,- Bows to the melody ; playing Courtly the Minuet! Waxlights twinkle, showing Louis' court, unknowing: Pretty patches, grand perukes ; Lights-o'-love and royal dukes. Stately in the dance, (O weary, weary France!) Tripping the Minuet. [53] LIBERA ME, DOMINE!* Domine Deus! S per am in te; care mi lesu! Nunc libera me: In dura catena, In misera poena Desidero te; Languendo, gemendo, Et genuflectendo Adoro, imploro, Ut libera me! O Lord of Creation [ My trust in in thee ; Come Jesu ! Salvation ! Deliver thou me: A captive complaining, In duress remaining, My desire is toward thee. Lo, I languish, contend- ing In anguish ; yet bending Adore ! I implore — O deliver thou me! MARIA, Scotice Regina * From the Prayer-Book of Queen Mary, and gener- ally believed to be her composition. [54] ''AUS DER HARZREISE'' * How the Fir-Tree's dear green fingers Tap the tin}^ window-pane ! How the Moon — that silent listener — Soft her golden light doth rain ! Father, Mother, breathing gently, In their chamber lie asleep, Close to where we two, still waking, Blessed watch together keep. "Is it but thy prayers thou sayest? May I trust thee ? May I dare To believe thy lips are moving, Stirred from out the deeps of prayer? "Cold those lips, — that evil stirring Frightens me; and yet it seems That my grieving thou dost comfort When thine eye so kindly beams. "O I doubt me thou believest In that faith we cherish most — Believ'st thou not in God the Father, In the Son and Holy Ghost.?" * From the German of Heinrich Heine "Aus der Harzreise, Bergidylle 2." [55] Ah, dear Child, — a boy, still childlike Sitting on my mother's knee, I believed that God the Father Ruled us — good and great was He! He who made this world of beauty. Made it for mankind — how fair! Sun and moon and stars appointed To their courses in the air. As I grew, my dear one, — growing Up to knowledge, then I won Power of reason ; comprehending, I believed upon the Son. Son how dear ! Belov'd and loving, Love's deep heart He opened wide; Love's accustomed wage receiving. By His own was crucified. Now, grown full to manhood ; learning. Journeying on with Wisdom's host, — Swells my heart within me, opening To receive the Holy Ghost. His what miracles of wonder ! Greater now than when He broke All the strongholds of the tyrant, Sundered every bondsman's yoke. [56] Death's deep, ancient wounds He heal- eth; He renews the ancient right; All mankind a race of nobles, — Freeborn, equal in his sight. Every evil cloud He scatters. Drives the fancies dark away Which have ruined love and pleasure. Closed us in by night and day. Knights a thousand, brave in armour. Doth the Holy Ghost select For his will ; his valour quickens All the souls of his elect. How their precious swords are glisten- ing! How their goodly banners wave ! Fain wouldst thou behold, my darling. Such a splendid warrior brave .^^ Child, look then on me ! My dear one, Kiss me boldly, nor be shy, — I myself am he — that warrior: Knight of the Holy Ghost am I ! [57] TO THE UNKNOWN GOD God of God ! Light of Light 1 BUnded, shut close within the pall Of this Thy darkness, — cry we all: Give us our sight, Thou Lord of Day and Night ! Lord, hear Thy sightless creatures how they call Through the cosmic spaces deep : Through the blackness where we sweep Onward, outward ; fiercely clinging To this poor earthy round Thy finger hath set swinging : To this Thy toy that Thou art turning, — Grain of Thy star-dust, smouldering, feebly burning Dim to a spark, In the terrible Dark. Thy piteous atoms, whirl'd in wanton flight. We cry to Thee — All blindly flying — Lord, we would see ! O hear our crying. Master of Might ! Hear, Lord ! Lord, give us Light ! [58] Hast Thou not made us, Lord? each nation A cunning gem divinely wrought To pleasure Thee : — Thy gracious thought ? Purge Thy creation 1 Bring Thine artistry salvation! O Light that shines in darkness, we have sought Thy brightness in our thronging hive ; In the noisome pit wherein we strive In hatred brother against brother, — Man against man — destroying, wasting each the other : Where women bring to birth with weeping The little children— Thine, Lord!— art Thou sleeping Above the murk Where the babies work ; Where Girlhood holds in Hell her habita- tion ? Crawling upon the sod, All vainly yearning Godless, unto our God ; In darkness turaing Sightless, towards the Light, — we seek sal- vation. Almighty, we would hear Thee ! Dost Thou call? Speak, Lord ! we hear the wailing of the thrall [59] Shrill through the deeper cursing of the im- potent. How long must we Thy children still blas- pheme Against the splendour of Thy shining Dream Of Justice: — Loveliness with Loving-Kind- ness blent? How lung, O Wisdom, shall our folly shame, With mirthless laughter low, the high resounding music of Thy Name? II Lord of Passion! shall we be Lovers? — while we pace the round Of this our unclean, loveless mound? Love, how can we Range, winging, far and free. Who fast in foul desires are lock'd and bound? How should we flame who freeze in lust. Forming fantastic shapes from dust — Dead things of matter — coldly shining Pale through our dry, unfragrant garlands pite- ous twining? Dreary endeavour! vain adorning! Treasure to crumble at the touch of morning 1 [60] Dull fools, we spin Wavering webs and thin For our inhabiting : how we agree To name them strong — Frail strands of pleasure 1 The night is long: Long do we measure Lustfulness. Burn, Love! that Lust may flee! Far distant Flame of Beauty: bless Our sordid living! Through the cloud That wreathes us in a shadow-shroud We peer and press : We seek wherewith to dress Our naked souls; adorn these bodies bow'd In tasks unbeautiful and grey. Yet, keeping our grim, unlovely way, We thrill to mystic brightness, — weaving Visions of sapphire shot with silver through; and cleaving Wavelets of rose to ruby glowing In drifted fire ; we bathe in colour throwing An opal whorl Frothing to pearl, Or pouring emerald lights in cool caress. [61] And Thy pale star-bloom Of topaz, flecking The amethyst gloom, Like flame-flowers decking The field of the Dark, — declares Thy Love- liness ! All-Loving, we would touch Thee! Draw Thou nearl Stoop down from hidden heights ; where, silver-clear. Trill through the purple promise of a gracious dawn Notes like the greeting of some waken'd bird; Or rustle of celestial raiment, stirr'd Soft in the quickening measure of the dancing mom. Lord of the Day ! no longer dwell apart From Thy creation I Come ! O we feel the beating of our Father's heart! Ill Bringer of Light ! Thy torch bums brave ! Kindling the level clouds that lie In violet ranks on the ashen sky. Wave upon wave. How ruddy splendours lave The livid east in glory : surging high [62] Where mountain sentries watch the Dark And wait upon the Dawn. How stark They stood night-long! Now, see them flaring Quick to the crimson triumph: colour trumpets blaring Day all-victorious. Beauty blushing Vivid through peak and glacier; snow-fields flushing Rosily bright For joy of the Light I Lo, where Creation leaps from the sullen grave To clasp her Lord 1 Cerements far flinging To afi'ord Room for her winging Upward to hail Emmanuel come to save ! Light of the World! Emmanuel! We'd soar to Thine august embrace Through pure irradiancies of space: Springing from Hell To Heaven, where we would dwell For ever in the brightness of Thy face. Nay ; how it blinds ! — the burning blue That shuts Thee from Thy children's view; And Thy flame-white spires of snow, upleaping. Guard still the jealous God within their barriers keeping [63] DEC 12 1913 Hid from our sight ! Fond eyes upraising, Dim from the Dark, into Thy splendour blazing, We see Thee not. Lord! is this our lot? — Ever to throb to the mighty beat and swell Of the Cosmic Heart Where our world is nesting. Yet live apart; Ever yearn unresting To see and to touch ; to know Thee and love Thee well? Nay; "God with us'M^ — Fools who aspire aloft. While starry thrusts of Dawn strike fair and soft Down through the dimness ! May we look to find Thee here? Lord! art Thou he — our brother whom we hate; Our sister. Thou, we shut within the gate Of shame? The cry of long-enduring child- hood sere — Is it Thy voice? — Invoking Thee above. We bind Thee in our bonds deep in the dreadful Dark, O Lord of Love ! [64]