Class Book. U ■< IK ) L ^ •■ w (a53 GopyrightN^. COPYRIGHT DEPOSrn POEMS POEMS By BRIAN HOOKER YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS MDCCCCXV T535l^ ,0 111' Copyright, 1915 By Yalb University Press First printed March, 1915, 1,000 copies PUBLISHERS' NOTE The author desires to acknowledge the courtesy of the publishers of The Century Magazine, The Fo- rum, Hampton's Magazint-i, Harper's Magazine, Mc- Clure's Magazine, Scribnor's Magazine, The Smart Set, The Yale Review and Yale University Glee Club for permission to reprint here such poems as have already appeared in their pages. APR 12 1915 ©aA398()08 TABLE OF CONTENTS Lilacs in the City Ballade of the Dreamland Rose A Situation A Little Person Oneiros A Ballad of Sin Echoes Plus Ultra . Forsitan Womanhood Golden-Eyes Fragrances . Everyman's Epitaph Fools' Wisdom . Ballade of Farewell The White Cat : A Fairy-poem Sonnets : Idolatry : Three Sonnets Andante A Schoolgirl Speaks Love and Pain: Two Sonnets [v] Page 1 4 6 9 11 16 18 19 20 21 22 24 24 25 26 SI 67 70 71 72 TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Ghosts 74 "Haec Olim Meminisse . . ." . . . . 75 Somnambula 76 From Life 77 A Portrait . 78 Ars Longa 79 April Noon 80 For the Centenary of Samuel Johnson ... 83 Songs : A Man-child's Lullaby 89 Amulets 90 Song: Dear, though you wander over peace and passion 91 Mother of Men 92 A Man's Song 93 A Woman's Song 94 A Robin's Song 95 An Old Song 96 Song : The skies are dimly bright, Love . . 97 Song : I know a bower sweet and shy . . 98 Together 99 Rosa Mundi 100 The Moon-path 101 Offerings . 102 Song : Only a little while since first we met 1 03 [vi] TABLE OF CONTENTS Song : The clouds are drifting drowsily Absences Morven and the Grail Turns : Prelude When the Weary Winter's Gone Miserere . Sequel **Nunc et Latentis Home-coming Congratulations Weariness Reverie A Character Umbra In Passing Recall The Maker of Images Page 104 105 109 133 133 134 134 135 135 136 136 137 137 138 138 139 143 vii 1 LILACS IN THE CITY Amid the rush and fever of the street, The snarl and clash of countless quarrelling bells. And the sick, heavy heat, The hissing footsteps, and the hateful smells, I found you, speaking quietly Of sunlit hill-horizons and clean earth; While the pale multitude that may not dare To pause and live a moment, lest they die. Swarmed onward with hot eyes, and left you there — An armful of God's glory, nothing worth. You are more beautiful than I can know. Even one loving you might gaze an hour Nor learn the perfect flow Of line and tint in one small, purple flower. There are no two of you the same. And every one is wonderful and new — Poor baby-blossoms that have died unblown. And you that droop yourselves as if for shame, You too are perfect. I had hardly known The grace of your glad sisters but for you. in POEMS You myriad of little litanies ! Not as our bitter piety, subdued To cold creed that denies Or lying law that severs glad and good; But like a child's eyes, after sleep Uplifted; like a girl's first wordless prayer Close-held by him who loves her — no distress Nor storm of supplication, but a deep, Dear heartache of such utter happiness As only utter purity can bear. For you are all the robin feels at dawn; The meaning of green dimness, and calm noons On high fields far withdrawn. Where the haze glimmers and the wild bee croons. You are the soul of a June night: — Intimate joy of moon-swept vale and glade. Warm fragrance breathing upward from the ground, And eager winds tremulous with sharp delight Till all the tense-tuned gloom thrills like a sound — Mystery of sweet passion unafraid. [S] LILACS IN THE CITY O sweet, sweet, sweet ! You are the proof of all That over-truth our dreams have memory of That day cannot recall: Work without weariness, and tearless love^ And taintless laughter. While we run To measure dust, and sounding names are hurled Into the nothingness of days unborn. You hold your little hearts up to the sun, Quietly beautiful amid our scorn — God's answer to the wisdom of this world. 3] BALLADE OF THE DREAMLAND ROSE Where the waves of burning cloud are rolled On the further shore of the sunset sea^ In a land of wonder that none behold, There blooms a rose on the Dreamland Tree That stands in the Garden of Mystery Where the River of Slumber softly flows; And whenever a dream has come to be, A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose. In the heart of the tree, on a branch of gold, A silvern bird sings endlessly A mystic song that is ages old, A mournful song in a minor key, Full of the glamour of faery; And whenever a dreamer's ears unclose To the sound of that distant melody, A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose. [4] BALLADE OF THE DREAMLAND ROSE Dreams and visions in hosts untold Throng around on the moonlit lea: Dreams of age that are calm and cold, Dreams of youth that are fair and free — Dark with a lone heart's agony, Bright with a hope that no one knows — And whenever a dream and a dream agree, A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose. Envoi Princess, you gaze in a reverie Where the drowsy firelight redly glows ; Slowly you raise your eyes to me. . . . A petal falls from the Dreamland Rose. [S] A SITUATION Not that I mean to make trouble. ... All the same, I could reach him so easily, easily — just one glance. One word sometimes, to awaken the whole ro- mance — It's enough to tempt a Minerva to play the game . . . And she so careful never to give me a chance ! He's a younger cousin, or some relation of hers ; (She's older than I) and the two are really friends, Equal, intimate comrades — and there it ends: Never a thought of anything better or worse. And nearly the same with me, but . . . that depends. No one I want — just a big, dear, innocent boy With a man's blunt will and elaborate honesties. And the arms and back of a man, and sweet boy's eyes Easily brightened with laughter or darkened with joy- Inexperienced, eager, and not too wise! Nothing to rouse me deeply, or hold me long — I have buried my dead, and seen my share of men — But the wish comes back upon me again and again To awaken the man in the boy, and find him strong . . . And a horrible sick little shudder now and then, [6] A SITUATION As he sits with his hand on hers, as a matter of course. Or sprawls on the floor with his head against her knee Wholly unconscious, forgetting the He and She, Which somehow, nevertheless, has a subtle force When their wills or opinions oppose and their eyes agree. If she would only not be quite so motherly ! Patronizingly watching us day by day — When his eyes follow on as I move, and rest where I stay. Or his voice drops half a tone below the brotherly — Off goes the conversation another way ! As if she said: " Come look at my lovely flowers — Please do not pluck any; I never do, you know. Only I like to plant them and watch them grow". . . If the two were boy and girl in their first mad hours, I should laugh, and help them, and bless them, and let them ""o! ^ And yet . . . What a foolish waste there will be of beauty When he finds the one conventional child for him, (With an untaught voice, and elbows youthfully slim) Who follows him stupidly down the path of duty. So blind with her own new glory that his grows dim! [7] POEMS To make him take me, knowing myself the first — I who could measure his utmost power of giving, I who could prize his virginal believing, I who have learned the lore of the best and worst . . . Why, it would make the life I have lived worth living ! Only — have I still anything left to spare? Well, an education in love, to the last degree. Is cheap at the price of a shrivelled vanity. I at least ought to think so — I've had my share. Not that I mean to make trouble, but ... we shall see. [8] A LITTLE PERSON Sunny hair and eyes of wonder. Baby-lips apart, Vivid mother-breast, whereunder Laughs a childish heart — What have you to do with learning Wiser bliss or woe? Take our gold; the cost of earning You shall never know. You shall joy as for another, Find it strange to weep, Play at being wife and mother. Dream, and fall asleep; All we toil for, all we doubt of, All we yearn to see. All our hopes have sneered us out of — You shall prove, and be. You shall purify deceiving With a glad disdain. Beautifully unbelieving Meet the eyes of pain. Dance through hells undreamed-of, bringing Benefits unguessed: Unto shame, a sound of singing, Unto passion, rest. [9] POEMS Sunny hair and eyes of wonder, Baby-lips apart, Vivid mother-breast, whereunder Laughs a childish heart, Soul unsinful, unforgiven, Voice of dawn and dew — God one morning, glad of heaven, Laughed — and that was you! [10] ONEIROS Out of the hush and darkness of deep sleep Your face came toward me: first a nebulous gleam Like some dim star beheld with eyes that weep ; Then wavering nearer in a misty flame, As the moon falters up through some dark stream When the wind moves at midnight. With you came A breath of music, faint and far away. And light and music somehow seemed the same: The one, all hope that longing turns to fear ; The other, all men dream and dare not say. Slowly the brightness broadened, and drew near. And orbed into the wonder of your face ; While the sound swelled and echoed trembling-clear — The minor dominant of a wild desire Beating the sullen bars of time and space; And with your coming, ever the sound rose higher, Quivering with extremity of sweet. And I could see your eyes ; and the dim fire That framed your face became your golden hair Falling in streams of Summer to your feet; [^^1 POEMS And the wild melody shook earth and air, You ever drawing closer, till at last Music and brightness grew too great to bear — Then suddenly the yearning cadence caught The chord it longed for, and I held you fast. Then the dream changed. Heavy with heat and fraught With sighs of slumbering roses, hung the gloom Over us. Little breezes passed, and caught Sweetness from bower and flower, and wandered on Through murmuring groves and beds of hidden bloom. Hard by, a marble palace rose, that shone With pearly balconies and columns tall Sprayed into arch like fountains turned to stone; And from a lower window deep-embayed Two bars of yellow light shot forth, to fall On your white dress and shining head, and made A saint of you, and passed unwillingly. Paling to amber where they half displayed Mysterious gardens darkling down to meet The starlit laughter of the distant sea. [12] ONEIROS Down with the light swept the swift-pulsing beat Of eager music^ and the yellow bars Were shaken and shaded as the flying feet Of dancers crossed the light. All throbbed in time — The music, and our hearts, and the hot stars. Woes of dead lovers in an ancient rhyme, Deeds of dead heroes when the world was young, Strife of great souls that vainly strove to climb Steeps of sheer joy where only angels tread — Ached in that music, finding heart and tongue. And the old childhood feelings I thought dead Came back upon me, seeming strange and new; Love of I knew not what, and causeless dread, And vague desire; all old things passed away Returned fulfilled, and all found form in you. Under a huge dim-towering tree I lay. You bending over me. I knew my sight Had never fallen on your face by day — Yet had I known you well, and sought you long. Loved in forgotten dreams for many a night; [13] POEMS And you were soft and dear, like an old song, And strange as moonlit clouds. Love strung to pain Tightened your cheek, and made your breath grow long And your lips brighten. Tears were in your eyes. And in your hair, the scent of Summer rain. And as I held you close, we seemed to rise And float away over the waves of sound; And all things but ourselves were fantasies: Death an old lie; and Life an empty quest; And Time a blind mole burrowing underground. Then our eyes drew you down. Your warm lips pressed On mine with eager kisses: all the dark Was full of you: through your quick-panting breast I felt your heart slow beating against my own Like the heat-pulses in a dying spark — Then the dream faded. Like a petal blown From some tall flower, you floated down — your whole Love in your eyes, and your white arms up-thrown — Blurred to a hazy glimmer far withdrawn, So faint I only seemed to see your soul, [U] ONEIROS Faded, and flashed, and vanished. . . . And the dawn Burst in upon me, and I woke. Yet still Truth seemed a shadow of the dream foregone; And all brave hopes, your glamour cast before; And all good thoughts, the echo of your will. And still you help me. Shall we meet once more. Out of the hush and darkness of deep sleep. In the day-world's tempestuous toil and war.f* And if I find you . . . will you ever be As the warm firelight of my home to me. Or some dim star beheld with eyes that weep? [15] A BALLAD OF SIN A King there was, both good and great, That was lord of a fair country; And a certain man within his realm Did scorn to the King's majesty. For he paid no tribute to the King, And he laughed away the law of the land, And day by day did rob and slay By craft of heart or might of hand. The King said: " He hath broke my law And in my realm done evilly; Yet, lest some need have driven him. He shall have gold and lands in fee." He took the King's good lands and gold. And squandered all in foolish wise; For he pledged the lands and spent the gold. On courtesans and courtesies. The King said: " He hath lost my gifts. And spent my goods in harlotry; Yet folly may be force unyoked — He shall have men to fight for me." [16] A BALLAD OF SIN He took the soldiers of the King, And led them forth to burn and kill, And ever his Lord's own banner bore To show he wrought by the King's will. The King said: " He hath shamed my crown, And stained my name with villainy ; Yet . . . treason is but want of faith — He shall have eyes that he may see." The man rode forth one summer morn Across a black and barren land. And a girl-child stood in his way Holding a white rose in her hand. The child laughed up in the man's eyes^ And held her rose for him to take. He smiled a stale smile, and passed by — She wept as if her heart would break. Then the King grieved, saying: " Alas, That my realm harbour such as he! There is no more that I may give. For now he hath dishonoured Me.'* [17] ECHOES In the old room, when May is ending, And day descending in the West, Into a golden stillness blending My memories of worst and best, Yesterday clings about to-morrow. Flinging a charm on time and place. Till calm lights and pale shadows borrow Frail outlines of your vivid face; And your voice calls from wall and rafter. Out of the long-forgotten years — A song that sorrow follows after, A laughter tremulous with tears. [18] PLUS ULTRA Love^ while our love was yet unborn. And your lips, doubting you, denied Gifts that should make you glorified In revelation won and worn — Still in your virgin eyes I knew God's promise of the joy of you Beyond your anger to subdue. Your maidenhood to hide. Now, when your lips have granted all Glory that may be dreamed or done Between the courses of the sun, In nature's deep confessional, — I see, where wonder underlies The wisdom of your wifely eyes, Unmasterable mysteries That never may be won. [19] FORSITAN Labour for Love; thy labour shall be vain. Conquer it; God shall laugh, and feed thee dust. Deserve it; thou shalt clasp a broken trust, Learning a wise unfaith. For joy or pain Love falleth wantonly, as falls the rain Alike upon the just and the unjust. Take all unclean that lieth to thine hand — There is no shame but wherewith Love may be. Be pure — thou fool, what shall it profit thee.'* Thine uttermost endeavour may command Upon the shore a grain the less of sand, A drop the more of water in the sea. Because the heart of Love is hidden higher Than ever poet sang or prophet saw. Beyond all dream of glory and of awe, — The very holiness of thy desire Shall blind thee to the gold within the fire. And hold thee from the best. This is the law. Therefore deserve; give wholly; do no ill; Labour, and overcome. So the one kiss May overflow a greater soul with bliss More curiously sought; or, if Chance will Thou shalt, remembering old beauty, still Worthily suffer, knowing what Love is. [20] WOMANHOOD Love to a lady said that kneeled before him, Fain of his light and of his glory fain: " Who ask of Love must manifold restore him For little joy, long pain." Swiftly she answered: " Lord, put forth thy power." (O, and the wonder of her lips and eyes !) " Let me know all. So I but have mine hour, What matter for the price .f*" Love laughed, and blessed her, saying: " The full measure Of all my sweet I give thee utterly; And in thy pain a joy beyond all pleasure. Seeing it comes of me." [21] GOLDEN-EYES Strange, that the thing I am should know The fulness and the perfect flower Of that old self, long lives ago ! . . . — It must be, when the flesh has died, The soul turns sunward a new side. And old lights darken. So that hour By its own soul-fire glimmers through — I wrought such glory out of you As death was frail to overpower! I was just entering the hall To greet my captive. . . . All before Blurs into gloom beyond recall — Until I see you standing there. The slant light maddened in your hair. And in your eyes no fear. Once more I breathe deep, hear my scabbard ring On the brown stones, and feel the sting Of the salt breeze through the high door. I claimed you mine. You railed, and scoffed. — Your lover must be near at last — And all the while, I thought how soft That grand white breast of yours would feel Close-crushed against my linked steel. . . . [22] GOLDEN-EYES You laughed. A sudden passion-blast Shook all my blood into one fire. And in a glory of desire I caught at you, and held you fast. Under my kisses and my strength You raved. Almost I feared you, when You tried to blind me. Then, at length. You changed: the hero-mother rose Into your golden eyes; close, close You held me, kissed me once — and then Folk shouted, and a trumpet blew Loudly. I reeled forth, drunk with you. To struggle in the press of men. They must have slain me in that fight. There was a ship with a high prow, And a man's face, foam-lipped and white. . . , Then the veil falls, and leaves me — here; Worthless, with none to hold me dear, No quiet hand upon my brow — I am but half a man alone ! . . . And you, that once were all my own. Ah, Golden-Eyes, where are you now? [23] FRAGRANCES When you pass by me swiftly, For a moment all the air Thrills with the breath of your passing And the summer of your hair. So, in the dark and the distance. There comes between sigh and sigh A breeze and a breath of beauty, As the thought of you drifts by. EVERYMAN'S EPITAPH Listen: I knew in life and breath Your darkest void, your purest flame; For I have loved, and smiled at death. And I have feared, alone with shame. Therefore this word I leave with you Who flush and faint as I have done: Doubt not that all good things are true. And the world fair to live upon. [U] FOOLS' WISDOM You thought you loved me, Dear — until you read In me what Love was ; then That Other came Who won your knowledge. So your dream was dead. And my reality was put to shame. It is a bitter thing to have no worth, To pour oneself out utterly, in vain; But — these things are of earth, and turn to earth: The lamp of pleasure and the shade of pain. " Be wise and manly ; leave such thoughts alone." The wise ones of this world laugh Love away, Criticise God, and play with bits of stone — I do not wish to be as wise as they; Only to love you perfectly, and wait. Nor stain with any doubt our joy to be. Never is but to-morrow. When we mate, Dear, we shall still have all eternity. [^5] BALLADE OF FAREWELL New roads to fare^ new toils to overthrow, New fields, made rich with fern and floweret, And beckoning seas where brave winds merrily blow Over the sun-bright waves of dawn — and yet. Never one sun rose but another set. . , . Wherefore, beseech you, count me not as they Who shun the venture and avoid the fray, Though I should pause within the empty hall. By the old hearth bow down to dream and pray. And bid at last a long farewell to all. Dim elms deepen the summer gloom below. Tangling the drowsy breeze in a soft net Of slowly waving leaves ; an amber glow Streams out of many windows, over wet Green grass, gray tower, and vine-hung parapet; And careless gusts of song start up, and stray Among the shadows ; the city's distant bray Softens ; and happy voices clash and call One to another, as I turn away. And bid at last a long farewell to all. [26] BALLADE OF FAREWELL Youth, and high hearts welcoming friend and foe, Careless of fear or failure; the clear jet And rainbow-spray of joyance; and the flow Of easy slumber to a morning met Blithely, fresh-eyed; madrigal, canzonet. Drink with glad boys and dance with maidens gay, Scorn of such laws as weaker souls obey — Carouse, adventure, dalliance, tryst, and brawl- Must we disown the sweetness of their sway. And bid at last a long farewell to all? These things are ebbing from us: and although It is more wise to frolic than to fret. Good to strew garlands on the grave of woe. Good to drink deep of laughter, and forget Weariness, and chill twilights, and the debt Inexorable that even we must pay Who in the House of Life rejoice to stay — Nevertheless, we find the banquets pall. See the leaves wither, and the lights turn gray. And bid at last a long farewell to all. [27] POEMS Wherefore, with half my days foregone, I go Now to begin true labour. I regret Only the song unborn, the unbent bow Whose quarry leaps unscathed. Nor dare I let My heart shrink from the turmoil and the sweat; For even already have I seen decay The glamour and dew-freshness of the May, And felt a weary body faint and fall. Remembering how I must fear delay. And bid at last a long farewell to all. Envoi Princes of Mirth ! Let no power disarray The pageants and fair trappings of our play, Until we turn our faces to the wall. Smile down the glimmering slopes of yesterday, And bid at last a long farewell to all. New Haven, 1909. [S8] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM There was a King's Son, once upon a time. Dwelling in a fair country, far away Even on the other side of Fairyland, Beyond the mountains and the sea. Through all His young life, he had never sought in vain, But what he asked was given; yet none the less The King's Son was not happy. Day by day. The King his father, that had been himself A king's son, gave him horse and hawk and hound, And taught him to ride straight and keep his spear Sharp, and his armour shining, to be strong In war, and swift upon the hunt, and wise In judgment, honouring the law. The Queen His mother, that had been a princess, gave him Silks and gems, a warm hearth and a soft bed, A table rich with spices and old wine. Red gold and ready servants; and taught him how To speak fair, understanding women's eyes. And sing sweet songs, charming the hearts of men. And be a prince in all. And his old nurse. That once had been a fairy in her youth — A brown and twisted witch like a dead tree — Gave him a great white cat, that all day long Drowsed in the sun or dozed before the fire. With emerald eyes half shut, and paws turned in, [31] POEMS Nor ever purred nor rubbed against his knee — But when the King's Son called her beautiful, Yawned, and looked elsewhere. And she told him tales Of elves and giants, wizards, trolls, and gnomes. And sleepless dragons, breathing flame, that kept Watch over hidden gold, and spellbound kings. And lone princesses in enchanted towers — Wonderful stories out of Fairyland, With all the sorry parts left out of them. And yet the King's Son was not happy. True, He sang and laughed, rode merrily to the hunt. And sat in council proudly. Yet he lacked In all these, what should prove a use for all — A cause for fight, a dream behind the song — And having all things, wanted — Everything. Now, it befell that while the King's Son slept One sweet midsummer midnight in the gloom Of his high chamber, the White Cat, that crawled Mousing amid the shadows, touched his hand In passing, and at the touch the King's Son sighed And stirred, opening his eyes. The moonlight fell Through leaves that breathed about his window, and lay In two broad bars athwart the chamber floor ; And between sleep and waking he beheld A milk-white Princess out of Fairyland Dancing under the moonbeams, glad as youth, [3S] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM Beautiful as the memory of a dream. And sweet as hope. Her eyes were like the dawn; Her hair was like the twilight; and she moved Like music over water. And the King's Son Looking upon her, felt his whole heart break For wonder and great love. Then suddenly. Ere he could move or speak, a shadow crossed The light, and a breeze brushed the leaves, and blew Balm from the drowsy gardens, and passed by; And the Prince, gazing where his joy had been, Saw only emptiness. And while he watched. Forth from the shadow stole the great White Cat, And yawned, stretching her claws out one by one. And shook her ears, and turned, and walked away Waving her plumy tail aloft in air. But on the morrow, the Prince came before His father and his mother, saying: "Now That I am one-and-twenty, and a man, It is full time I proved your gifts to me Upon some high endeavour; for I live As a fat hawk here, or a pampered hound. Doing all things with cause for doing none. Useless. But last night, waking suddenly And wavering on the brink of sleep, I saw Where the broad moonbeams fell from wall to wall, A milk-white Fairy Princess dancing there. Beautiful as the memory of a dream, [S3] POEMS And sweet as hope. Her eyes were like the dawn; Her hair was like the twilight; and she moved Like music over water. And I knew, Gazing upon her, that my life was hers. And I shall follow her to Fairyland And find her, and possess her, or I die." And the King answered : " This is but a dream. Such as young blood dreams in the summer. Nay, By thine own speech I know it for a dream — Moon-maidens dancing ! Use and uselessness ! — Bide here till harvest, when our foemen spring Out of the south, ten thousand spears: that war Shall find thee use enow. Nevertheless, If thou must ride a-dreaming, take my sword. I won my kingdom with it years ago, But it shall never win thee thy desire." And the Queen cried, clutching her mother-heart With one white hand: " Child, there has fallen a spell Upon thee. Thou hast slept under the moon. And that breeds madness. Bide thou here, and let Wise doctors wash this vapour from thy brain. Are there no maids in our own country? Still, If thou must go a-maying, take my harp — I won my treasure with it, years ago. Yet it shall never charm thee to thy dream." THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM Lastly the old Nurse drew from out her breast A dingy mirror, cracked and stained, set round With dull gold and dim gems, muttering: " Take this ; For they who seek in vain through Fairyland Their hearts' desire, perish. Do I not know? I was dead once, and saw my life therein — Yet ... it shall never show thee thine own face." But the King's Son, scarce heeding their dark speech For the light of his dream within him, took the gifts, And called for horse and arms, and rode away Singing, across the sunshine. And the White Cat That drowsed on the warm stones beside the door. Twisting her lazy body in the sun. Rose up, and ran before him upon his way. And would not stay behind, nor be denied. So the King's Son rode forth, following his dream Over bright meadows merry with flower and bee. And through cool woods holy with moss and fern, Even to the utmost borders of the world, Beyond the mountains and the sea. And still The White Cat went before, nor ever turned To look on him, nor paused, nor gave a sign Of watching that he followed, but went on As one that fared alone at her own will, [35] POEMS And pointed out his way. But when they came To the huge wall of gold that guards the bounds Of Fairyland, its glimmering length flung far From dawn to sundown, and the gates aflame With amethyst and opal, whereupon Is written in a tongue old as the world: " Who enters here must seek his heart's desire " — And overhead, hung by a single hair, A great sword shines and swings, trembling — she stayed ; And would not pass there till he went before, Then followed. And the King's Son, entering, rode Through a glad country bright with sun, and fair With blossoms that before his charger's feet Sprang up, and shed their fragrance, and fell down Fading behind him; and the low skies burned Purple and rose and saffron, as if the dawn Lingered and flushed the noonday; and the trees Reached forth green arms to him, and brushed his cheek Like soft hands ; and the breeze behind him shook With whispers, and in front through the warm green, White breasts flashed, and dark eyes glanced, and a sound Of girlish laughter fled from tree to tree; And the sweet air sang in his blood like wine. And the King's Son, riding, unslung his harp, And sang across the summer and the sun: [36] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM " Youth rides forth to-day! Lads of mettle rare, Ladies debonair — Will ye say him nay? Joy shall dance and play. Love shall clasp and cling. Through the glad array Of his following, " Over earth and air Flows the fire of spring. Filling everything. Thrilling everywhere; Shall a world so fair. Calling, be denied? Bid him dare to dare — Bid him mount and ride! " Round him in a ring Gather glorified — Every maid a bride. Every man a king — Wreaths and roses fling Down his conquering way; Laugh and kiss and sing — Youth rides forth to-day!'* [37 POEMS And as the song closed, all around broke out A clapping of tiny hands, and all the air Filled with soft cries of pleasure; and he felt About his neck the clasp of invisible arms. And touch of bodiless lips upon his own; And shimmering winds flashed by, and caught his cloak And tugged his bridle. Only the White Cat Beside his stirrup paid no heed, but yawned. Curving her pink tongue, and looked elsewhere. Then, Far off a solitary trumpet rang From that which, glittering on the distant hills, Blazed like a lesser sun. Whither the Prince, Following his viewless guides across the plain Deep-spread with bloomy fragrance, was aware Of a tall castle all of glittering glass. Whose towers the clouds encrimsoned, and whose base The earth tinged living green; and its whole breadth Brake diamond-like into a myriad lights Of wall and buttress, porch and parapet. Cornice and battlement and balcony. And clustered columns branching into arch Like frozen spray; and the slant lights, and lines Tangled, and the clear substance of it all. So mazed his vision that he rode half blind Before the glare thereof, nor might discern The outer from the inner. But he saw. High on a fretted balcony that hung In one broad band of fire from tower to tower, [38] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY -POEM A pearl-white Princess crowned with gold^ and robed In purple. And her eyes were like the day; Her hair was like the summer ; and she moved Like sunshine on the sea. And leaning down. She stretched her arms toward him, and cried his name. Saying: " I weary of the brightness here. Come." And with that, the King's Son gave one cry, Recognizing the vision of his dream. And spurred his charger to the gate, and seized The golden horn that hung there, and breathed deep. Then blew. Slowly the drawbridge creaked and swung, Descending; the portcullis rose; the gates Opened, and down that shining pathway strode A monstrous giant, all in golden arms, Demanding what he sought; whereto the Prince: " Do battle for the Princess prisoned there." So the twain rushed together, while above. The Princess on her balcony laughed loud. And called, cheering them on; and the White Cat, That in the midmost branches of an elm Clung bristling, like a ball of thistledown. Hissed angrily. And the Giant heaved on high His mace, and at the first stroke, stooping, swung Against the charger's feet, and swept him down [39] POEMS Sidelong beneath his rider^ as the scythe Topples the standing corn. But the King's Son Leaped clear, and found foothold, and sprang within The swing of the huge mace upon him; and then, Mindful at once of many a fairy tale — How giants all are weakliest at the knee — And gathering his whole might into one stroke, Stabbed. And the Giant roared aloud, and swung Tottering a moment, then clanged down. His shield Boomed like a gong, and the ground under him Rang hollow, smitten by his golden arms. As though the earth were golden; and the sound Rolled bellowing from beneath, and jarred afar In subterranean thunder, and rumbled away Beyond the horizon. So the Giant fell. And heaved and groaned a moment, and lay still. And the King's Son, amazed to have won the quest So easily, dizzy with joy, and strong In the surety of his triumph, turned, and strode Over the drawbridge, through the fiery arch Of those high gates, and crossed the echoing hall. And climbed the glassy stairway, where his dream Waited him. And he knelt before her feet. And kissed her hand, murmuring: " Lo, I have come. Having seen thee and sought thee. Therefore follow me Home to my father's kingdom." [40] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM And she said, Smiling into his eyes : " Wherefore?" She seemed Rosier than he had seen her in his dream, And sturdier. Nevertheless his whole heart burned For rapture of her, and he rose, and flung His arms out, saying: " I have fought, and slain The Giant." And she laughed, answering: "What then? He is my Giant." And at that, the Prince, Empty of words and sick with a strange fear, Stood wavering, while the fabric of his dream Dissolved around him. At the last, he said Foolishly, hating the sound of his own speech: " It is not so in any fairy tale." But while he spoke, the White Cat from beneath Cried warning; and he turned, and looking down Through glassy walls and floors, suddenly beheld The fallen Giant spring up, and rush within ; And the halls resounded with him, ere he came Upon them, howling with laughter, and upswung His massy mace, and with one huge blow shattered The King's sword, and crushed down the King's Son. [41] POEMS Then The Princess and the Giant lifted him, And spoiled him of his arms, and bound him fast With golden chains, and prisoned him far down In a dim dungeon underneath the moat. As far below the green earth as from thence Even to the pinnacle of the tallest tower; And there, barren of sense and strength, he lay. All day the White Cat, wandering forlorn Around the enchanted castle, sought in vain Her master; for her eyes, fitted for gloom Where men's eyes fail them, shrank from sun, and where The glassy fortress reared its glittering height. Saw neither wall nor tower nor any form Nor substance: only a blind golden glare Unbearable. But when the sun sank down And the lights paled, rising, and rosily Flushed, lingering on the battlements, and night Fell, she crept forward very carefully To the moat's edge, and looking downward, saw Through fathoms of wan water and clear glass Where he lay, chained and prisoned. At that sight. She raised a dolorous cry, and would have gone To him, but shrank back frighted at the touch Of the chill water. And the King's Son heard Her wailing through his swoon, and seemed to hear [42] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM The Princess crying to him for help; and so Waking, looked up through glassy wall and floor To a bright banquet chamber, where the twain, Crowned with red gold and garlanded with flowers, Feasted, Princess and Giant, laughing wild And sporting amorously; and his own arms Hung with a hundred others on the wall: Whereto they raised their cups, and pledged each other, Embracing, and drank deep. Thereupon the Prince, Feeling his whole strength beaten back on him In one dry gust of agony, sprang, and brake The chains whose links fell, tinkling goldenly Like small bells ; and he leaped upward, and swam Through glassy walls and floors as a diver climbs Through water, labouring, and won forth, and fled Headlong, dishonoured and disarmed, his sword Gone, and his charger slain, and his dead dream Festering within him. Only his harp remained. And the dull mirror at his girdle hung. And the White Cat, following him silently, Whereof he noted nothing, but rushed on Through glooms odorous with drowsy blossoms, whose breath Seemed like her hair, and winds that cooled his brow Like her hands, and still lights that shone afar Most like her eyes whom he had found in vain. The Princess; and her face was everywhere Before him, beautiful with joy, and warm [43] POEMS With tenderness; and ever by her side The golden Giant grinned^, and pawed her hair And pinched her cheek, while she laughed up, and lay Surrendering. And the burden of that sight So bore upon him that he took no heed Of place or way or distance, but plunged on Through the void night beset with evil dreams, Hopeless, across the immeasurable plain. But when the dawn came, and a cold light spread Over the hills behind them, the King's Son Paused on a westering rise, looking behind Across the levels toward the light; and where The glassy keep had reared its glittering towers, Saw only emptiness and wavy lines Against the sunrise, like the air that swims Above a flame, or formless glints that fleck The edges of a crystal. All between Lay the broad valley veiled in shimmering mist From hill to hill. And the keen wind blew clear The meshes of his mind, and night and shame. Battle, Giant and Princess, and all else Bitterly remembered, for a moment seemed A nightmare whence awake he felt no more. Wondering to find himself so free from pain And breathing deep of rest. Then, seeing himself Horseless and swordless and unarmed, the weight Of his remembered sorrow fell again. THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM Yet lightlier; for that clear breath left him still Doubting; and with that thought, the shimmering mist That brimmed the valley overflowed, and rose Over him; and he turned and went on, folded Fathoms deep in a cool cloud, overhead Faint-flushed with sunrise, and beneath tinged wan By the green earth, and whitening all around So that he seemed buried in a huge pearl Wherethrough all things loomed formless, rock and tree Shadows, himself a shadow, and the White Cat A shadow upon a shadow. So he fared Sightless for many days, knowing not where Nor whither, save that the ground swelled in hills And sank in hollows, growing hour by hour Rough travelling, yet it seemed the general trend Led upward. And the whiteness all the while Wavered with wreathy shapes that fled before Or brushed beside him, or above leaned down Whispering, and plucked his sleeve and pressed him on. Bringing with them a momentary breath Of bloom or blush of colour. Yet he took Small heed of them for the increasing toil Of journey, and the trouble of his brain Unravelling all his deeds: he should have stayed And stabbed the fallen Giant; or escaped Battle, and seeking entrance by some wile, [45] POEMS Have slain him sleeping; or in that last bout Fought harder, and prevailed; or at the end Fallen upon them ere he fled, and slain Both, or himself have perished; or perchance If he had done some evil on the M^ay, Or broke some law of Faery, whence himself Was cursed, and his quest barren; and in all Lurked the arch-doubt, whether in very truth The princess were his Princess even so, Or whether having seen her in vision at first Gave him true right to seek and win her. So He toiled through clouds, following the land, nor cared Whither nor wherefore. And the White Cat ran A white shadow beside him, making no sign Of service, but went forward silently As one that fared by her own will. At length. Clambering a rocky slope interminable, He reached the height, and paused, and standing there Fronted a firm wind, and the mist fell, blown Asunder, and the stars shone. All around. Vast mountains bulked against an ebony sky League beyond league, crested with snow, and floored With sea-green pines ; as though the almighty deep. Heaving his foamy legions to the war Of the four winds, hung suddenly motionless — A storm in stone; and the moon, shining down [46] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM Through ripply streams of cloud that warmed from pearl To amber around her, silvered the long swells Of peak and pine, and carved in jetty shade The forms of crag and canyon, precipice And fissure, gorge and ridge and chasm, and swept The hollow vales with mystery. And the Prince Gazed through crystalline space, breathing the air Of balsamed groves ; and his fears fell away Blown leeward, and his faith cleared, and his dream Shone forth once more new-born before him. Then, Far away thrilled a lilt of delicate song From that which, glimmering on a silvern ridge. Gleamed like a larger moon. And the King's Son, Plunging through fresh glooms of the piny dell And laboring up the further slope, was ware Of a pale palace all of glimmering ice. Whose domes the moon illumined, and whose walls The forest fringed with deepening green. Behind, A still lake held the clouds ; in front, the trees Crusted with frost, shot forth a million fires Of emerald and opal, tourmaline, Jasper and beryl; and the palace itself So drank the sky and paled above the lake And sparkled with the trees, that all its lines Filmed into lights and hollows without form, A gem folded in darkness. And while the Prince Hesitated, the doors moved, and there came Forth from its luminous halls under the sky [47] POEMS A snow-white Princess robed in azure and crowned With silver ; and her eyes were like the moon ; Her hair was like the midnight; and she moved Like starlight on a river. And she took His hand, and spoke his name softly, and turned Her face up, saying: " I have waited long, And thou hast wandered far to find me. Come — I weary of the stillness here." And he, Recognizing the vision of his dream. Yet for the memory of unhappiness Doubtful: " Hast thou in truth awaited me?" And while he spoke, a writhing shadow fell Between them, and with great wings covering the moon. Over the hills a dreadful dragon flew. Scaled all in venomous green like the bright scum That shines on stagnant water ; and his eyes, Lidless, flickered unsteady fires, and forth Out of his nostrils puffed thin wreaths of smoke. Folding his leathery vans, the monster swung To rest beside them, and his talons rasped The gravel. Then the Princess, with one arm Over his scaly crest: " Behold my Lord And Master. Therefore, if thou bear a heart [48] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM Strong beyond common love, casting out fear, Follow." The Dragon swelled, and firelit smoke Puffed with his laughter. And the King's Son, all His heart heated with horror of such a mate, And all his manhood strung with danger, strode After them. But the White Cat bent herself Into a feathery arch, and fluffed her tail. Hissing hatred, and fled, and hid herself In the green lights and shadows of the trees. And would not enter. But the King's Son passed Through shadowy halls lit by the Dragon's eyes, And chilly galleries heated by his breath. To a high banquet-chamber where the three Feasted. And ever the Princess smiled on him Across the board, with timorous glances thrown Sidelong, and starry beckoning of the eyes Behind the Dragon, and through subtle speech Of nothing, words and tones promising all. And thrills of understanding undeclared — So that his dream shone out with every breath Stronger and lovelier; and his wonder grew That having lost once, he could love the more, Being grown wise in loving. And he burned To battle with the Dragon, and triumph, and bear All that sweet beauty home. Yet, being now Swordless, and for his first failure the more [49] POEMS Certain of death if he again should fail. And for the Princess watching and warning him, Hesitated, trusting in her. At last The Princess, glancing where the Dragon lay. His scaly length melting into the floor And lidless eyes flickering, murmured: "Sir Prince, Thou hast a harp. Hast thou no song to charm The light of lidless eyes.^" And the King's Son, Mindful at once of many a fairy tale — How Dragons all sleep under power of song — And gathering all the passion of his dream In one wild harmom^, his harp unslung, And sang across the midnight and the moon: " Day sinks down to rest: Softly falls the night; Star-fires glance and gleam On the river's breast. And the warm, low light Silvers into dream. " Let us drift and dream Here, and leave the rest, — Earth is ours to-night: Shadow lulls the gleam. Gathering to her breast The lost rays of light. \50} THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM " While behind the light Of thine eyes, a dream Wakes, and will not rest. Yearning to unite Sundered fires that gleam Hidden in each breast; " And thy breathing breast Falters with delight. And our conquering dream, Crowned, trembles to rest In the arms of night Till the dawn shall gleam. " Oh, thy hair agleam Over brow and breast. And thine eyes alight — Ah, to bid the dream Linger, and arrest The swift hours of night! " Therefore, xvhile the night Gathers, and stars gleam. Dearest, on my breast Lay the burden light Of thy head, and dream. . . . Close thine eyes, and rest." [51] POEMS And while he sang, the Princess curved herself Against the scaly body, one white arm Flung upward over the green crest, and leaned Her head thereon, with thrilled lips and closed eyes. Drinking the music. And the Dragon's breath Came softlier, and his wings dropped; and the flame In his red nostrils paled, and the sparks died Out of his eyes ; and the gloom deepened, save For moonbeams glimmering through the icy wall. And as the last chord rang, trembling away. The coils fell loosened, and the lidless eyes Rolled upward. Then the Princess carefully Slipped from his side, rising, finger on lip, Where the King's Son awaited her. And he, Wondering to have won at length his quest After defeat, opened his arms to her And whispered: " Thou art mine now. Therefore come Home to my Father's kingdom." But she said. Shuddering, and looking down: " I dare not." She seemed Paler than he had seen her in his dream. And slighter. Nevertheless, his whole heart yearned For wonder of her beauty ; and he caught [52] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY -POEM Her hands, crying: " Have I not sung, and charmed The Dragon?" And she answered: " After all, He is my Dragon." And with that, the Prince, His dream shattering around him, and his heart Black with a horror beyond hope, cried out Heedlessly, taking no thought of his own voice: " Is there no truth in any fairy tale?" And with that word, the slumbering Dragon sprang Above them, breathing smoke and flame, his eyes Flaring blue levin, and his thunderous vans Volleying storm ; and out of his red throat Screamed one white blast of fire that seared the ice To vapour, and the walls burst and the floors Fell, and the King's Son plunged headlong, far down Where a black river rushed beneath the ground As deep under the mountains as themselves Reared up their craggy heads from earth to sky; And the waters closed above him falling, and boiled Around him, and the flood bore him away. All night the White Cat, wandering alone Around the enchanted palace, waited in vain Her master; but at dawn crept carefully [53] POEMS Forth to the lake, and where the palace of ice Had reared its glimmering walls under the moon, Saw only emptiness ; and a black well Yawned in the ground, and from beneath there came A sound of rushing water. And full of fear Yet feeling his presence there, she leaped and clomb Downward, wherein her eyes, fitted for gloom Where men's eyes fail them, caught the light, and showed Vaults of black stone where a black flood rushed on Unending. Then along the bank she ran Swiftly through subterranean dens, and caves Lapped full of surging water, where the day Brought no light; till at last, lifted on waves And whirled on eddies, before her the King's Son Drifted, senseless and drowned. And at that sight, She raised a dolorous cry, and where the stream Set shoreward, leaped and caught his shoulder, and clung, Mewing. And the King's Son, hearing her cry. Half waked out of his swoon, and flung blind arms Round that which, floating on the flood, upbore His head above the water. Then, presently. Long lights gleamed from behind, and on broad vans Winnowing the gloom, with eyes that glanced on wall And water, and hot breath poisoning the air. Over their heads the scaly Dragon flew. Skimming the wave, and where the King's Son swam, Dipped like the purple-crested kingfisher, [54] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY -POEM Snatching at him, and plunged his jaws that boiled The stream to vapour. Then against the roar Of flood and fire belled out a golden clang Before them, and the Golden Giant ran Leaping along the bank, or wading in Smote with his mace, and howled with laughter, and hurled Huge stones. And the King's Son, by the black glare Along the water, saw that the floating mass Whereby he held his head above the stream Was the white princess of his vision, dead And ghastly, her hair shining, and her eyes Glassily mirroring the Dragon's. Then He shrieked and thrust away; but as he sank The White Cat clinging on his shoulder cried Piteously ; and he, past all desire Of his own life, yet lest by his own death The creature that alone had faith in him. Though helpless and unhelpful, should be slain, Clung again to the corpse, and swam, avoiding Dragon and Giant as he might. So they For hours beyond numbering drifted down The black stream through the dim cave; while above. The Dragon dived and clutched, and alongside The Golden Giant raged, and his dead dream Upheld him. And that horror turned his brain To madness, and through dreadful dreams he saw Dragon and Princess writhed in one foul coil Of white and green. Princess and Giant clasped [65] POEMS In a golden flame of laughter, and all at once Mixed in a monstrous whirl of wings and eyes And limbs and colours ; and he heard the hiss Of kisses, and the corpse whereto he clung Seemed now the raven Princess, now the Fair; And within both the vision of his dream Glimmered, and mocked him. Then the flame and roar Turned murmuring summer wind, and flush of dawn Over cool fields of billowy blossoms, fair With purl of brook and song of wakening bird. And breath of rain- washed woodland; then once more. Struggling back into sense, he saw again The lurid cavern and the murky flood. The Giant and the Dragon and the Dead, And the White Cat that on his shoulder clung — Lit by uncanny fires and swept along Through glooms unending, down the unrestful stream. Slowly as one that from the house of death Bitterly escaping, swims through fires of pain And storms of fever, and black floods of sleep, Till at the last his soul, returning, clears Faint eyes, and with a dim wonder he sees The strange walls of his own remembered room, Where the gray day, through curtains closely drawn [66] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM Sickens the lamplight^ and the house is still — Even so the King's Son, gathering his soul And opening weary eyes, gazed listlessly Wondering at the strange remembered shores Of his own country. Over him the hills Paled through a mist. Behind him, the wan sea, Laden with heavy clouds too dull for storm. Plashed, and surged slowly. In front, the sallow fields Ran fading into fog, streaked with late snow And spongy ice ; and leafless trees held up A net of nakedness before the sky; And the air chilled without frost, and fine rain Fell without wind, freezing; and the whole land Barren and brown with desolation, lay Sick for the end of Winter. The King's Son Rose, shivering, and the White Cat, that had lain Close to his breast for warmth, slipped with a snarl. And found her feet, and yawned and spread her claws Shaking the wet mist from her feathery fur. And limped beside him. They went inland, mired In sodden ruts and heaps of leaden snow. Through the chill rain, under the darkening sky, Where light glowed in a cottage window. There The King's Son, entering, called for food and fire And messengers; but the goodraan, amazed At the strange figure strangely attended, railed Upon him for a madman, and thrust him forth. And the King's Son cursed him, and went his way, [57] POEMS The White Cat following, where along the road A troop of soldiers passed, with clash of steel And creak of saddle, splashing the mire, and sang Merrily as they went a bawdy song; Who, when the King's Son asked whither his way Led to the Palace, beat their thighs and blew Glad oaths and laughter, crying: " The Palace ! He seeks The Palace! He— the Palace!" And rode on. And the King's Son cursed them and went his way, The White Cat following, where a crowd of boys Ran homeward, shouting shrilly, and pushed each other Into the mire, and hurled wet clods of snow Laughing; but when the King's Son spoke to them, Huddled and whispered together, pointing, and then Ran past, and huddled again beyond him, and there Pointed and whispered. But the White Cat ran Before him up a hill, and snuffed the air. Looked back and called, and ran, and paused again; And the King's Son, wondering, followed her Up a long slope, over the ridge, and thence Through mire and snow and chill rain sifting down Out of the darkening sky, and stood amazed, Recognizing the i^lace of his own home ; But where warm lights had burned and tall towers frowned Saw only desolation, tottering walls [58] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY -POEM Unroofed, columns discrowned, and rafters gnawed Naked by fire, and frozen heaps of stone — Black ruin. And he drew near, and sat down Stunned. And the White Cat, creeping to his breast For warmth, shivered, and the rain fell. At length, He rose, and over an angle of the wall Yet standing, dragged loose timbers and dead vines For shelter. And the White Cat, creeping in Nestled close, and the gray lights darkened. Then, Numb beyond any sorrow, the King's Son Looked back over his life, unravelling all His failure, seeing how his dream was vain: How joy hides from desire, and sleep evades Weariness, while the accursed bathe in bliss. And over hell hang the glad gates of heaven; And gathering dreary madness, lifted up His voice, tunelessly, and while cold winds wove Weird counterpoint above the melody. He sang across the winter and the storm: " Summer now is done. Leaf and blossom gone — Faded, every one: " All her lights withdrawn, And the dreams of night And the hopes of dawn. [59] POEMS " Wherefore shall I fight? I have won and lost All the world's delight, " And have paid the cost. Will the storm deprive Winter of her frost? " Wherefore shall I strive? Neither prize to win, Joy to keep alive, " Nor the taste of sin Beckons me to prove What may lie therein. " Wherefore shall I love? I have known the shames And the shifts thereof: " How her faiths and flames Are but hollow lust Called by sounding names. " Honour, pride, and trust Turn upon my tongue Into shards and dust; [60] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM " All the dice are flung, All the tales are told, All the songs are sung — " Give me, being old, Peace from pangs begun. Shelter from the cold. Shadow from the sun — Summer now is done." And as the song closed, the White Cat, that slept Against him, woke hissing, and struggled free. Bristled and growled, with emerald eyes that glared Wildly upon him, then leaped forth, and fled Into the dusk, and vanished. And the King's Son, Wondering what last horror had changed him so To fright the creature, raised the dingy glass That hung still from his girdle, and therein Saw not himself but that which had been he, Starting upon his journey; and by his side. Beautiful as the memory of a dream And sweet as hope, watching him with glad eyes, The Princess. Day and night shadowed and shone Across the magic mirror; and through all. The vision of his dream following him Over the mountains and the sea, beyond The gates of Faery, over the meadows of dawn. Through the pale mist, across the moon-swept hills, And down the underground river, all the while [61] POEMS Guarding and guiding when he knew it not, Even to that hour. And while he gazed, between Memory and vision, suddenly a light fell Across him, and a sharp fragrance, and there, Lovelier than he had seen her in his dream. Stood his own Princess out of Fairyland Alive before him. Her eyes were like the dawn; 'Her hair was like the twilight ; and she moved Like music over water. And the King's Son Gazing upon her, felt his whole heart break For wonder and great love. Nevertheless, Mindful how he had failed upon the quest For want of understanding, and of the truth Under the heart of every fairy tale — That every quest is but a coming home — And sorrowing for his last friend gone from him, Said wearily: " I know now. Thou hast come When all that should be thine dries out of me : Why not while I was worthy?" And she said Softly: " How could I ?" And with that, the Prince Forlorn of all that had been spoiled in him — Age, and gray hairs, his kingdom gone, his dream Dried into dust, his power wasted away — And shaming that such beauty should be bound [62] THE WHITE CAT: A FAIRY-POEM Save unto strength and freshness like her own, Answered : " I have grown old now, having seen How joy hides from desire to dog the steps Of languor. I have sought my dream, and lost The power of dreaming. What life I have left Thou hast saved. My thanks therefore ; and . . . farewell." While he had spoken, she with narrowing eyes And arms bent inward on her bosom, looked Elsewhere. At last she said: " Thou hast no gift To give me. I ask nothing. Is there none Thou wilt receive?" And the Prince answered: " One- One friend, no dream, that stood with me through all; That could not help, but would not hide from me ; Helpless, but would not fear. Now, if thou be Truly a princess out of Fairyland, Find her." Thereat the Princess with one cry. Half purr, half laughter, sprang to him, and back From her white throat the furry mantle flung, And locked her arms about him, and on his heart Hid her face, and sighed happily, and lay still. [63] POEMS And the King's Son held her, speaking no word; Knowing in her warm breast all fires that burn By happy hearths, and in her dusk of hair The breath of all the roses of the earth, And in her eyes the wonder of all dawns From the beginning of the world. And while They clung together, trembling, a sweet wind Blew suddenly out of the blossomy South, Full of a nameless joy; and the gray snows Bloomed, and the darkness brightened, and the clouds Parted, and over Winter brake the Spring. [e4] SONNETS IDOLATRY: THREE SONNETS I must forget life, ere you shall persuade My heart beyond it. Though at last I came Without hope to the horror of dark flame, Or among glad great angels dreamed and prayed. What matter? Have I not already made Love's own lips tremulous to breathe my name And seen all night the lidless eyes of shame Stare through the darkness where I lay afraid? I should yearn down from Heaven at the voice Of a strong child crying out angrily — Struggle up from Nirvana for the smell Of rain-sweet woods in Autumn; or rejoice To watch the moon rise over a dim sea, Lifting my head serenely out of Hell. [67] POEMS II If God should say: " From all my power to bless Choose thine own heaven, where the soul shall be Fired with white joy, or drowned in a sweet sea Of everlasting calm forgetfulness." I should make answer : " Lord, earth's images Of heaven are fairer; therefore leave me free — Make me immortal in mortality — Thou hast no more to give; grant me no less." Wonder too deep for dream; glory to blind The sight of angels ; agony to endure Beyond all sense; hate, laughter, love, and fear- What need for other worlds? The soul were sure, After innumerable lives, to find Ever inviolate adventures here. [68] IDOLATRY: THREE SONNETS III Lord, for no man may look upon thy face, I turn from seeking thee to fall before The forms of thy creation, and adore The sacred clay of thine abiding-place: Yea, as a lover treasureth some trace Of her who will not hear, so evermore Close to my heart I wear the golden lore Of beauty, gemmed with shining nights and days. Dost thou not laugh in every child, and brood In every mother? Whose joy glorifies The passion of new loving, and controls Old pain? Are not our songs half-understood Overtones of thy voice, and our own souls Images of the dream behind thine eyes ? [69] ANDANTE Now gently sinks the long sweet Summer day In blossom-breathing dimness. The sharp wings Of chattering swallows touch with mystic rings The shadowy pool. The last wide Western ray Glows tawny-crimson. And from far away, Each breeze that stirs the timorous poplar brings The moan of herds, the call of feathered things, The song and laugh of little ones at play . . . All beauty. Pain and passion seem as far From this calm spot as yon grim city, spread Behind the smoke-topped mountains, where the breast Of patient earth sobs to the ceaseless jar Of steel on stone, the clash of bells, the tread Of slumberless myriads. Here is only rest. [70 A SCHOOLGIRL SPEAKS You are not like the others — that is all. I do not think you wonderful nor wise, Make you a hero in my reveries, Nor bend my fancy to your beck and call; Yet . . . when you come, there seems a veil let fall. And little matters brighten and surprise — I am afraid of something in your eyes, And I am glad that you are strong and tall. I have not given this new thing a name — Not even to myself. You cannot see. And I should hate you if I thought you knew — Only ... I am grown older since you came. Stronger, because your strength belongs to me, And more myself, being a part of you. [71] LOVE AND PAIN: TWO SONNETS I dreamed. And lo, upon a shadowy mound Love stood alone beneath a juniper. And all the light of heaven brake from her. Golden, and shook about her like a sound. Then, drawing nearer, by her side I found A sister-shape that ever might not stir From Love's left hand. Death-white her features were; Her lips were straight and scarlet, like a wound. I have seen a tree, against the Western light Nebulous with golden glory: and again. Graven against the gloaming, ebony-plain. Even so all delicate wonders, overbright Upon the face of Love for mortal sight, Were shadow-graven on the face of Pain. [7S] LOVE AND PAIN: TWO SONNETS II I cried: " Love, must it ever be thy price To find thee fostering this form of dread? " And Love looked at me with thine eyes, and said: " She is the shadow of a soul, that lies Within my light, Mistress of Mysteries. Face her, and find; flee her, and I am fled." And at the word, that phantom raised her head, Smiling. I saw that she too had thine eyes. Then while I wondered, she drew near, to lay Cold hands of fear upon my heart, and pressed Terrible lips on mine; and as the crest Of some dark wave shatters to shining spray. So my dream swelled and shattered into day — And Love's own self lay laughing on my breast. [73] GHOSTS The dead return to us continually: Not at the void of night, as fables feign, In some lone spot where murdered bones have lain Wailing for vengeance to the passer-by; But in the merry clamour and full cry Of the brave noon, our dead whom we have slain And in forgotten graves hidden in vain, Rise up and stand beside us terribly. Sick with the beauty of their dear decay We conjure them with laughters onerous And drunkenness of labour ; yet not thus May we absolve ourselves of yesterday — We cannot put those clinging arms away. Nor those glad faces yearning over us. [74] " HAEC OLIM MEMINISSE . . ." There is a Summer stillness everywhere. Under the woven pines my Lady lies Dreaming, with childlike lips, and mysteries Of light and shadow moving in her hair. Her faith hangs over us and thrills the air, And the trees know it, and the butterflies Flash it across the sunbeams. In her eyes Unspoken gladness gathers like a prayer. Dear, in the twilight of our happiness, After the flame and struggle of the day. We shall look back sweetly on hours like these: Not seared into our hearts by any stress. But sealed with Love's own seal, and laid away Within the starlit treasuries of Peace. [75] SOMNAMBULA She fills her hours with fantasy, to keep The great hour silent: blossom-loves that fall Unmourned, pleasures of labour prodigal, And careless woes eager for tears to weep — Ripples on the unfathomable deep, Flashing with foam and sunshine, musical With lisping reeds and prattling shallows — all Busily alive; and all that life one sleep. Laughter, and merry memories, and sweet breath Of days made rich by many a brief desire — These are her dreams. Their glimmering veils are drawn Where (O, tread softly!) herself hides beneath. . . . Hush ! . . . Woman, with her soul of song and fire, Slumbering quietly before the dawn. [76] FROM LIFE Her thoughts are like a flock of butterflies. She has a merry love of little things And a bright flutter of speech, whereto she brings A threefold eloquence — voice, hands, and eyes. Yet under all a subtle silence lies, As a bird's heart is hidden by its wings, And you shall search through many wanderings The Fairyland of her realities. She hides herself behind a busy brain: A woman, with a child's laugh in her blood, A maid, wearing the shadow of motherhood, — Wise with the quiet memory of old pain. As the soft glamour of remembered rain Hallows the gladness of a sunlit wood. [77] A PORTRAIT Mother and maid and soldier, bearing best Her girl's lithe body under matron gray, And opening new eyes on each new day With faith concealed and courage unconfessed; Jealous to cloak a blessing in a jest. Clothe beauty carefully in disarray, And love absurdly, that no word betray The worship all her deeds make manifest: Armoured in smiles, a motley Britomart — Her lance is high adventure, tipped with scorn; Her banner to the suns and winds unfurled. Washed white with laughter; and beneath her heart, Shrined in a garland of laborious thorn, Blooms the unchanging Rose of all the World. [78] ARS LONGA Not thy great gif ts^ O God ! I would not be The prophet honoured in an alien clime; Or send my name trumpeting down through time, Selling my manhood for a memory. So should I fade into the shows of me: — My joy become the reason of a rhyme, My pain, a figure in the pantomime, My love, a light over an unknown sea. Give me but what thou givest all mankind: A little faith in that I labour for, A friend whose name I daily think to bless, A woman in whose eyes I seek and find. Children mysteriously mine — no more Than common, ordinary happiness. [79] APRIL NOON Silence. Faint warmth of the awakening sun Drowned in pale light. The meadows lapse away- Ridges of brown and slopes of sallow gray — To where the leafless hills are dusky-dun. Earth holds her breath, and waits while slowly run The ordered hours in pitiless delay; Fearing the vanished snows of yesterday, Nor daring yet to deem the Summer won. As a sick woman from the house of death But newly ransomed, overweak to care For life renewed and love made warm again, Faints slowly back to life with each calm breath. Finding a joy almost too keen to bear Only in this, that there is no more pain. [80 FOR THE CENTENARY OF SAMUEL JOHNSON FOR THE CENTENARY OF SAMUEL JOHNSON When the slow cycle of a hundred years Out of the dark some golden date uprears Whose casual numbers form a spell to raise Dead virtues up amid appointed praise, Conjure huge ghosts out of their gorgeous gloom And lay brief wreaths on some immortal tomb, — How many celebrants completely know What acts deserve the homage they bestow? How many of the multitudes who throng To laud the Singer, that have heard the song? Or, while they hail the Artist's deed supreme. Dwell with him in the beauty of his dream? The leaders of the hour — a few at most — Honour a man: the people praise a ghost. Theirs not to ask what made the holiday — The priest proclaims; the worshippers obey: From mouldering shrines the festal fires arise. And unknown gods are throned in alien skies; Forgotten deeds their sires commemorate, And names remembered prove their bearers great. [83] POEMS So we to-night raise monumental breath To works already crumbling into death^ Pay each unopened tome a generous meed — Delight to honour, and decline to read. Who rambles with the Rambler} Who hath power To invoke the Idler for an idle hour, Thread the great Lexicon's laborious mass, Or wrestle in the waste with Rasselas} Yet ... we do well. Smile as we may on those Who praise immortal works that no one knows, We need not bear that charge, who celebrate No man ephemeral whom his deeds made great — No Artist, whose dominion and control End with his work — we celebrate a soul. Johnson has been and is : here stands his pride — A spirit living whose exploits have died. Have you not known some friend whom but to see Was Faith, whose silence was Philosophy, Whose presence Love — yet bore a common fate And did no deed of those which men call great? In whom all powers burned but could not shine — A poet, though he never wrote a line, A general whose wars were all a jest, A prince whose kingdom was the passing guest, A saint at heart, who loved the homely strife And gay sins of an ordinary life — Who wore his human frailties like a crown. Whose humour kept his colder virtues down [84] CENTENARY OF SAMUEL JOHNSON Lest they should leave the kindly earthy and rise Snow-peaked to the discomfortable skies? On such men's graves no formal blooms are flung — They live unheralded and die unsung; Nor can our words their secret worth convey To light the darkness of a later day. Yet there is little need. Their lives live on Beyond all fame that genius might have won. They dwell in us^ to whom their frequence lent A Being greater than Accomplishment, — A joy in joy J, a strength to stand unawed Before the storms of pain, a proof of God. So much the virtue of a soul proceeds More from itself than from its actual deeds ; So much the giver is the gift's best worth — The man more potent than his work on earth — That legendary kings deserve their fame But by a breath, tradition, and a name. Great men their eulogists immortalize, And shine reflected in unbodied eyes. So we discover that Athenian Sage Not on his own but on another's page. And by this tribute read his wisdom clear: That Plato stooped to be his chronicler. And so with Johnson. Though his works be dust, His words dim with unconquerable rust. The man lives on — a legend and a face Stamped on the coinage of our English race. [85] POEMS What though his windmill foes be all o'erthrown? His heart still fights with dragons in our own. What though great friends his lustre overdim? He lived with giants, and they honored him. Still on the vast horizon of the years, Over the kneeling radiance of his peers, His craggy figure towers : quaint, uncouth, A savage bravery of homely truth, A courage stumbling on through toil and pain, A clumsy humour, and a clean disdain, — A cloudy pillar of sustained desire Which, when the gloom o'erwhelmed it, turned to fire; An Ursa Major, wheeling round the pole Outlined in stars, and every star a soul — Souls of less worth more visibly expressed Whose light keeps the great shadow manifest. Not only those who dwell in ancient days To Johnson's name pay veritable praise; Not only they whose learning holds by heart The musty worthiness his words impart — We, like blind mirrors, hold his image clear. And in strange tongues bid the brave ghost appear. October, 1909. [86] SONGS A MAN-CHILD'S LULLABY Little groping hands that must learn the weight of labour, Little eyes of wonder that must learn to weep ; Mother is thy life now: that shall be to-morrow — Time enough for trouble — time enough for sorrow — Now . . . sleep. Little dumb lips that shall wake and make a woman. Little blind heart that shall know the worst and best; Mother is thy love now: that shall be hereafter — Time enough for joy, and time enough for laughter — Now . . . rest. Little rosy body, new-born of pain and beauty, Little lonely soul new-risen from the deep; Mother is thy world now, whole and satisfying — Time enough for living — time enough for dying — Now . . . sleep. [89] AMULETS Out of the dark, your eyes. Beckoning far and fair. Under whose laughter gleams A witchery of dreams — A fantasy of prayer — Making new hopes arise Out of the dark . . . your eyes ! Out of the storm, your voice, Bidding the sea be still. Warm with the kindly mirth And honesty of earth. Rousing my strength to will. And struggle, and rejoice Out of the storm . . . your voice! Out of the world, your heart. Waiting to call me home — A beautiful calm place Wherein to hide my face Awhile from flame and foam. Feeling all pain depart Out of the world . . . your heart ! [90] SONG Dear^ though you wander over peace and passion^ Searching the days to prove yourself untrue, You cannot hide me. Still, in my own fashion, I shall come back to you. In other eyes, on lips that bid you doubt me, In music, in the little things we knew. In your blind prayers for happiness without me — I shall come back to you. God keep you safe through all the ache of learning. Through all the wrong you need to be and do. Till in the wise joy of unf earful yearning I shall come back — I shall come back to you! [91] MOTHER OF MEN Mother of Men^ grown strong in giving Honour to them thy lights have led; Rich in the faith of thousands living, Proud of the deeds of thousands dead — We who have felt thy power, and known thee. We in whose work thy gifts avail, High in our hearts enshrined enthrone thee, Mother of Men— Old Yale ! Spirit of youth, alive, unchanging, Under whose feet the years are cast; Queen of an ageless empire, ranging Over the future and the past — Thee, whom our fathers loved before us, Thee, whom our sons unborn shall hail. Praise we to-day in sturdy chorus. Mother of Men— Old Yale ! New Haven, 1909. [9^] A MAN'S SONG Sweetheart, love me dearly — Why need you struggle so ; Keep the kiss you mean for me. Hide the heart I know? All your truth and purity Into love are grown — Sweetheart, love me dearly While to-day's our own ! Sweetheart, love me truly, And all good dreams are true- Life and death are little things In the light of you. Only let your wonderings Keep me strong and sure — Sweetheart, love me truly While our days endure. [93] A WOMAN'S SONG Glad and fair is my young love, He to whom my pulses move, He whose pleasure I obey — Glad as dawn, and fair as day. Very strong and sweet is he That hath lordship over me — He to whom I all am given — Strong as death, and sweet as heaven. Mary Mother, grant me this Only, out of all thy bliss: Let his longing never tire — (He whose lips are ice and fire — ) Make me worth his whole desire ! [H] A ROBIN'S SONG Wake^ Pretty One, wake ! The morn comes over the mountain; Tenderly, gaily, the swift, sweet breeze Kisses the dew from the trembling trees ; Day's ready to break — Wake, Pretty One, wake! Sing, Pretty One, sing! The violet blooms by the fountain ; Under the cool of the hawthorn spray, Sunlight and shadowlet dance and play; Love, love's on the wing — Sing, Pretty One, sing! Rest, Pretty One, rest! The sun sinks under the mountain; Mother-bird night, with her warm wings furled, Broods o'er the dusk of the sleeping world; Safe under her breast Rest, Pretty One, rest! [95] AN OLD SONG When all the winds are mellow in the glad Spring- time, And bank and fell and fallow blossom-laden, When every breath's a song, and every laugh like rhyme — Sing hey, the day for youth to meet a maiden ! Then out amid the morning. Let Wisdom waste her warning — We'll laugh, Dear Heart, and sing. Dear Heart, through all the golden day ! Red lips are such a treasure As only love can measure. When all the world is merry in the month of May ! When all the dark is hollow, and the wind blows cold. And down the West the tawny sun is sinking; When every word is wise, and every heart grows old,— Sing ho, the night's a noble time for drinking ! Then drown the wizard Sorrow! To-night from death we borrow — We'll laugh, good friends, and quaff, good friends, until the dawn of day ! Let song and wine remind us Of loves we left behind us. When all the world was merry in the month of May ! [96] SONG The skies are dimly bright, Love, The stars like pulses beat That falter with delight, Love, And the breeze is maddening-sweet- The breeze is maddening-sweet ! Borne soft along its way, The sighs of sleepy flowers From bowers to dusky bowers Its laden wings delay. The world is hushed in shade. Love, And shadowed all my heart; This night for us was made. Love, . . And we so far apart — And we so far apart ! Unheeded on my ear The folded whispers fall — In vain the shadows call, Because thou art not here. [97] SONG I know a bower sweet and shy, Where glooms a stream Beneath cool films of leaf and sky- Where river-lilies lie and dream; Where very quietly Small birds make melody, And everjT^ breeze on tiptoe comes and goes- To that dim bower that no one knows — My bower of peace that no one knows ! I know a heart unwisely dear, Where blooms a joy That never doubt may venture near, Nor any barren fear destroy; That poureth over me Child-sweetness wondrously, And dareth wholly unto me disclose That gentle heart that no one knows — Dear heart of peace that no one knows ! [98] TOGETHER Glory of a golden light over vale and hill, Daisy-fields a-bending to the swift wind's will, Summer-sweet in every breath, a bird on every spray, — And it's you and I together. Dear, the livelong day ! Wonder of a misty moon high above the wood, Glamour in the valley and our own hearts' blood. All the breathing dark alive with murmurs of delight, — And it's you and I together. Sweet, the livelong night ! Win a world or lose a world — peace or weary strain, — Summer dawn of joy, or Winter dusk of pain — Every time I think of you, it's like a lilt of song. For it's you and I together. Love, a whole life long ! [99] ROSA MUNDI In a garden glad and green Blooms a rose unknown, unseen, Ruby-bosomed like a flame, Holy, like a holy name — All the world have part and right In the garden's rich delight: Each may gather all he knows . . . I alone have known the Rose. Through a world of waste and wrong Floats a benison of song. Pouring on the multitude All their souls can bear of good; Giving them who know and care Beauty, laughter, pain, and prayer — Each his own realities . . . Mine the Singer's lips and eyes. [100 THE MOON-PATH Fair and afar and aflame in the sky, Over the tide, Glimmers the great moon calm and high — The golden sign of my heart's desire — Never the nearer, though I stand Without faith on the lip of the land, Or follow, follow her endlessly Over the heaving gloom of the sea — Over the weary sea — Over the sea. Cold and aloof and alone in the sky Let her bide. Pouring her beauty down from on high — A river of rest for the heart's desire — A golden pathway flowing to meet The lone quest of my faltering feet. And carry, carry me endlessly Over the dream-dark, wonderful sea — Over the foam-bright sea — Over the sea. [101] OFFERINGS If I could sing as no man ever sang — Find the red heart of that unspoken lore That all sweet sound is only hunger for, — If I might call the moonlight on the sea, The river-lily's dream, the soul of dew, To lead the voices of my harmony, I should have songs, O Love, to sing to you. If I could love as no man ever loved — The seeking of the girl unsatisfied. The passion of the bridegroom for the bride, The mother's wonder in her newborn son. The boy's fresh rapture in his life come true- If I might compass all these loves in one, I should have love, O Love, to bring to you. [102 SONG Only a little while since first we met. And soon the sea, with many a weary mile, Shall sever us forever, Sweet . . . and yet. Will it be very easy to forget ? — Only a little while! Only a little while that I may claim The whole soul's breath of you without denial. And see your eyes grow golden with a flame That is not Love, yet hath no other name — Only a little while! Only a little while to use my art So that some day you may look back, and smile Out of a joy wherein I have no part On that old self of yours that filled my heart Only a little while! [103] SONG The clouds are drifting drowsily. The sea drinks in the sun. And it's O for the dawn that is dead and gone, And the deeds I might have done — Brave deeds I might have done ! The waning moon is red and low. The slow wind brings the rain. And it's O for the night of dear delight That shall not be again — That cannot be again ! The crawling mists are cold and white. The lights are blank and gray. And it's O for command of heart and hand To do my work to-day — Only my work to-day! [104] ABSENCES Dawn-light and bird-song and trees against the blue — All the lights of heaven^ Dear, are fair because of you! . . . But now the fields are sallow, and all the skies are gray; Empty of the sight of you to light love's way. Hearth-light and home-song, and voices by the fire, Merry with your mirth. Dear, and warm with your desire. . . . But now the house is hollow, and all the fires are chill; Barren of the joy of you to wake love's will. Come to me, bring back to me the heart of day and night. The body of all beauty, and the soul of all delight ! — Sunbeam and star-shine, roses after rain. The colour and the melody, the laughter and the pain. And all my life alive in me to hold you close again ! [105] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL MORVEN AND THE GRAIL Angels of the Grail Morven! . . Morven! . . Morven! . . Blood and Water, Water and Wine, World without end: three signs, one wonder- Follow the Vision, — Follow the Grail! Morven, seafaring upon the quest of the Grail, heareth the Angels thereof calling unto him: Morven Blood of the sunset Adown the dark water, Wine of the wind, sweeping Onward, Westward, Herding the numberless Rush of foam-flinging Surges homeward Whither we follow Over the golden Floors of sundown: One way together Westward wending — The sweep of the wind. The weight of the wave. The leap of the sail. And the swing of the oar. and unll follow the world's dream, even unto the end of the world. [109] POEMS One way, the sun's way, Onward, Westward, From dawn to noonday From noon to even, From darkness to darkness; One way, the soul's way, Out of the darkness For one day only. Westward, onward. Alone down the gloaming. Into the darkness. One dream, the world's dream Alone we follow, O my wanderers. My strong companions, — Follow the holy Angel-guarded Vision, the golden Grail, that shineth Eternal, Immortal; Onward, Westward, Heavenward, homeward, Follow the Vision — Follow the Grail! [110] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL Chorus: In Avalon Hither, O hither and rest ! On the broad sea's billowy bosom, Avalon, bride of the West, smiles in the arms of Hecomethto the island the foam ; Avalon, the Balm of warm noon, drowsy bird, and awakening ^^^^^^^Jf. blossom, «^^ *^^«^e for Charm the tremulous air, welcome the wanderer abidethin home. ^^^^^• Here, over meadows of endless May, the drifting clouds of a downy whiteness Gleam, and the sunbeam follows the shadow under the bloom of purple skies; Here the wild moon crowns the mountains, drowning the gloom in a bath of brightness Perfumed with paradise. We have forgotten your tears. Will ye feed im- possible yearning With young years, and fight hungrily, proud of your pain? Come unto us, and discover the old sweet beauty returning Beauty, desire to delight, lover to lover again ! [Ill] POEMS Knights grown weary of hopeless honour, ladies fain of ungathered flowers, Saints unkissed, and sages dry of wine, and singers barren of song — Learn the joy ye long for, join the dance of the rosy- footed hours, Laughing our days along. Song of Sigurd the Volsung But hearing in his heart as it ivere the voice of young Sigurd riding forth against the Dragon, he is aivare hoio man may not content him forever in sweet joy; The gold of the morning Shines on my shield, Her jewels adorning The sword that I wield; Clear of light and clean of breath- Here's a day for life or death ! For war without warning By forest and field. For maidenhood sleeping By fire girded round. For wealth of the creeping Worm underground; Thank the gods, who gave the same To the dragon and the flame. That gaining and keeping A man may be found ! [112] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL Then smite hard and spare not, Foeman unknown ! I fear not, I care not, Mine arm is mine own. God nor man that hears my horn, Troll nor monster mountain-born, — Shall dare what I dare not, Till one be o'erthrown! MoRVEN Let me go hence! . . I have hungered and thirsted Overlong in your Avalon. Here is no heaven — The Grail is not here ! Chorus Is there another j oy than j oy ? O lover of sorrow, and of the Gh'ail also, even the Surely our lips and eyes answer thine own, and are sweet ! desire of the soul that is not in Avalon. Wherefore, To, in my heart despite them Heard I one singing ^f ^^'^^ *\ ° ° stay him, he MoRVEN Of youth war-hardy, departeth out of that heaven. Glad against fear. Pure of pleasure, t fe [113] POEMS Chorus Out of the arms of to-day let not the wanton to- morrow Lure thee away with lies. Fool, in what land shall ye meet? MORVEN And I said, beholding Beauty that breedeth Barren roses, And love unfought for, A flower without fruit — How shall I make me An end of manhood To lie unavailing, Unwarlike, unworthy. Steeped in sweet? Chorus No more. There is no home but here, nor ever was, nor shall be forever. Over our stars forbidden heavens, under our flowers forgotten hells Warn in vain; before and beyond, the wind's unrest and the sea's endeavour Dream, and shall find naught else. [lU] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL MORVEN I will go in might As a man_, wayfaring Whither the brave blood Poured for sword-swing Riseth again As the rain returning Sunward, and turneth To wine poured forth Before heroes in heaven. Thither will I too Fare and follow Beyond the world's end, Over the rainbow, Onward, upward. Heavenward, homeward. Follow the Vision — Follow the Grail ! Chorus: In Valhalla To Valhall, O Stranger, Drink deep, and be cheered For days of thy danger And ways of thy weird. Ere the war-maidens bore us The heroes high-vaunting, [115] POEMS Tlien cometh he to Valhalla of the Old Gods, the heaven of stark manhood; and there abideth in glory for a time. Stout sons of the sword — With the great ones before us To ride to the hunting, And feast at the board. By the field, by the foam, Where our hearts were not wanting, Where our force did not fail — We have won our reward. We are crowned, we are come, To Valhalla our home. Waes Haell To our brothers who fought us, Good welcome again ! Your manhood first taught us We also were men. By our wars without hate. By our wounds without shame, By our death without fear — Hand in hand, mate by mate. Pledge our fellowship here. For the love of the game. The strong arm that defends Till a stronger prevail. The high deeds, the hard ends. To our foemen, our friends, JVaes Hael! [116] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL To our grim gods, who drained us Of sorrow and joy; Disowned us, disdained us, Till all that remained us Ye could not destroy: By the hammer of doom, By the flame of desire, By the flood of despair — Ye have forged us a pride Either side of the tomb. Undismayed here as there. For the gloom and the fire. For our woe, for our worth Before heaven and earth. Pour once more the brown ale ! — To the gods we defied. Face to face, open-eyed, Waes Hael! Hymn of Saint Cecilia Let my sorrow. Lord, Seek thy breast; Never, but for thee, Faint or fear — Till I find my rest. My reward. Folded in thy dear Purity. [117] POEMS But hearing in his soul as it were the voice of Saint Cecilia hymning Christ her Lord, he is aivare how man may not content him forever in triumph; Never let me weep Any more — Only lay my soul In thy hand; Only as before Fall asleep. Making thy command My control. Close the world away From my sight; Let the legions move, — Lovers cling, — Hidden in the night ; While the day Owns but thee, one King And one Love. MORVEN Let me go hence! . . Lo, in my soul Have I heard one singing Of faith white-hearted. Holy in sorrow. Lowly in prayer. [118] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL And I said, remembering Pride that drinketh Bitter water And power unbridled^ A fire without food- How shall I make me An end of wonder To vaunt in Valhalla Unhumbled, unhallowed — The Grail is not there ! and the Grail also, even the desire of the soul that is not in Valhalla. Wherefore he departeth out of that heaven. I will go in my sins As a pilgrim, seeking Whither the tears Of the world, forever Calm with forgiveness. Flow like a shining River of peace Before Christ in heaven; And beneath Him, around Him, Glad golden angels, Grave-eyed like children, Cast their crowns down By the fountain, crying: Holy, Holy, Holy. [119] POEMS Thither will I too Fare and follow Through the silence — Beyond the shadow — Onward^ upward^ Heavenward^ homeward. Follow the Vision — Follow the Grail ! Chorus: In Paradise Golden with hearts of gold thine everlasting city — Rainbow-bright with jewels, and every gem soul — Hosanna ! The Lord above Reigneth as a lord of love — Hosanna ! the Lord of might that is Lord of pity Buildeth of broken things the glory and the goal ! We have sinned and turned away our faces Then cometh he among the Saints in Paradise, the heaven of From the light we could not call our own; Father, thou hast sought in lonely places For thy children, gathered us and crowned us holiness; and there abideth his time in Peace. With the peace that blooms about thy throne. [1^0] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL We have sorrowed where our fears confound us And the clouds return after the rain; Saviour^ for thy death we feel around us Arms departed, hear forgotten voices, And the eyes we saw weep, smile again. We have dreamed; by fitful flames, and noises Of the night, we fought and labored long; Spirit, in thy mystery rejoices The lost heart of dreams, the purer glory Shining at the end of every story — Calling at the close of every song. Therefore with angels, with Cherubim and Seraphim, With all who shall follow and all who went before, Hosanna ! The King of Kings Hath compassed His imaginings ! Hosanna! We praise Him and magnify His name; to Him The Kingdom and the power and the glory ever- more! [m] POEMS But hearing in his spirit as it were Our Lady communing with her Child neio- born into the world, he is aware how man may not content him forever at rest; Lullaby of Our Lady I have dreamed of strange things This night. Lo, they are gone— The voices, and great wings. And the three kneeling kings — Leaving me here alone Now all is done With this that is mine own. . . The Man, my Son. Master, thy high commands ! . . Must we put forth to bless Unfathomed seas, far lands. These little angry hands .^ — Will earthquake and eclipse Claim, and confess Those little hungry lips Of helplessness? Ah, hush, then! . . Take no heed Of prophecy nor sign. While I am all thy need Though thou be God indeed. What matter less or more. Human, divine? — Never was born before A babe like mine. [12^] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL Morten Let me go hence ! . . Prayer and praise Have I proven in Paradise; The Grail only Beheld I never In any heaven. For lo, even now, Even here, my spirit Heard one singing Of life new-born Unto hope and hunger Adventure, endeavour; And I said, understanding The eyes of children. The lips of women. The hands of men — I will go down Out of rest forever For love of the world To the world again. I will go as a babe That is born, as a soul sent Forth from before God Bathed in forgetfulness and of the Grail also, even the desire of the so^d that is not in Paradise, neither to be found in any place, but rather folloived through all. Wherefore he will depart out of that heaven, to be horn again and become as a little child. [123] POEMS To wonder and wander Through pain and beauty, Laughter and labour And shame, unendingly, Knowing and growing. One way, the world's way, The sun's way, the soul's way- Day after day From the deep rearisen. The same, yet another. Westward wending From dawn to noon From noon to even From even to dawn. One dream, God's dream That no man knoweth Never to find Forever to follow — The unbeholden Glory, the gleam Above all heavens Beyond all horizons — Earthward, downward Outward, onward. Follow the wonder — Follow the Grail ! MORVEN AND THE GRAIL Angels of the Grail Morven! . . Morven! . . Morven! . . Blood and water Water and wine Life, death, and life, three dreams, one waking- Behold the vision — Behold the Grail! From His throne alone and afar In the night before light began, The Lord let fall a star Into the heart of the sea. And a ripple arose and ran Spreading eternally In glimmering rings that roll Over the dark of the sea, As the ripple of years that flow Over the dark of the soul — Circles of weal and woe Widening evermore, With hell in the gulf below And heaven where shadows move To the shore that is no shore. And in the light thereof Are all things written plain ; For the name of the sea was Love And the name of the star was Pain. Thereupon the heavens are opened unto him, and he beholdeth in a vision the Grail and the Angels thereof sing- ing of the mystery of God's crea- tion: how man shall not cease hut through light and dark- ness, love and pain, death and birth, live on between Hell and Heaven in ^vonder everlasting. \n5 POEMS And the Lord lifted up Gold of the star that fell, And fashioned a golden cup Thereof, and blent therein Wine that was poured in hell To waken the heart of sin; Water from streams that rise Where weary angels win Heaven, and fall asleep; And blood of sacrifice Burned for old gods that weep Forgotten. And the Lord Blessed the cup, and drank deep And set it for a sign In the West, and spoke a word. Saying: " This blood is mine: Let him who hungereth Drink/' And he called the wine Life, and the water Death. And over the face of the world Fly, as the shadow flies Where a pillar of smoke is whirled Away on the wind, the desire Of Man, and the joy of his eyes: A pillar of cloud, and a fire Burning beneath, and above Veils that resolve and retire [1S6] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL Into the lights and are gone: And under the shadow thereof, Hope awake in the dawn And Faith as a bird that sings In the dark, and Love withdrawn, — Follow, and shall not fly Beyond the beginning of wings. Man shall environ the sky And the sea in the mist of his breath ; In the dust of his deeds he shall lie Down, and deny his worth, Falling from death to death — Rising from birth to birth Where the wind of his dream is driven- In Hell as it is on earth. On earth as it is in Heaven. Chorus: On Earth Children of men, march on Beyond the veil, nor fear An end of any beauty now begun; Seeing how all that longs from nothingness Into desire proclaims No heaven but to be more, no hell but to be less Than ye have held most dear. Therefore dread not to find your ancient flames And foras- much as God of His own heart so imagineth all things that they die and rise again, there- fore shall the earth declare the glory of God, world without end. [127] POEMS Faint in the radiance of a purer sun; Or at the shrine of human passion, praise Unwelcome gods, unwillingly adored By strange, cold, holy names. Ye shall not find them. Many are my ways; My will is one, Saith the Lord. He that hath eyes to see, Let him behold the tide's eternity, Under the sway of the moving moon. Through the huge pulse of ocean swell and swoon. Changing unchangingly; He that hath ears to hear. Hearken the birth-cry of the dying year. When out of nakedness and frozen stone Laughs rearisen spring. Glorified in sweet green and sunlit gold. With breath of wild virginity, and tune Of marriage-merry birds that sing The coming of the bridegroom to his own Once more, even as of old ; And he that hath a heart to understand Feel hour by hour the crown of his reward Melt from his brow and harden in his hand Into a stronger sword: — Nor doubt nor dream of narrower destinies Than to return beneath yet undiscovered skies, Risen again as the day riseth again, [128] MORVEN AND THE GRAIL Reborn as the year is reborn — Not in some alien heaven prisoned in vain Where that which hath been man is put to scorn; But as a traveller may come With old love and new eyes To the wonder of his home. Children of earth, dream on Beyond your heaven, and dare Choose your own gold wherewith ye shall be crowned ; Seeing He also dreams whose dream ye are, Nor will endure to bound That vision by the sweep of any nearer star Than ye have found most fair. Therefore from faith to faith, from goal to goal Unfurl the sunward pathway of the soul — Ever a new horizon calling Over the crest of the purple hill. Ever amid the music falling A melody unremembered still — Ever to grow, to gain Wilder joy, wiser pain. Diviner peace to conquer and defend By more than mortal strife: — Life — everlasting life. World without end. Amen, [129] TURNS A new fixed form: Seven lines, in any rhythm, isometric and of not more than four feet; Riming AbacbcA, the first line and the last a Refrain; the Idea {as the name sug- gests) to Turn upon the recurrence of the Refrain at the end with a different sense from that which it bears at the beginning. PRELUDE Only you will understand, And at last I can be true. Oh, the ache of self-command, Hoarded laugh and hidden tear! Listen now . . . not even for you Have I words to make it clear. Only — you will understand! WHEN THE WEARY WINTER'S GONE When the weary Winter's gone. And the birds come back again. And the tenderness of dawn, And the hum and pulse of noon. And the laughter in the rain, — Is there one to share my June When the weary Winter's gone? [133] MISERERE Ah, God, my strength again ! — Not power nor joy, but these: The waking without pain, The ardour for the task. And in the evening, peace. Is it so much to ask? Ah, God, my strength again ! SEQUEL Love came back to look once more On the home he long had known: Found a vine across the door. Found the fountain foul and dry. Found the garden overgrown; Heard at last a tired sigh. . . . Love came back to look once more. [134 " NUNC ET LATENTIS . . ." Gloom, and the sound of your breath ; Longing . . . and then your lips, And a heart that faltereth, And the soft surge of your breast- Then a slow sigh that slips Into a sob. Then . . . rest, Gloom — and the sound of your breath. HOME-COMING Shrive me of my sins, Dear Heart: Give me of the Bread and Wine ; Bid the waste and weight depart, Bid the best in me renew ; By the love that makes you mine, — By the God that loves in you, Shrive me of my sins. Dear Heart ! [135] CONGRATULATIONS How can he know your worth so well As I, who never loved you, Sweet? His love shall bind you, and compel Your heart, his only, to forget Whose word first taught that heart to beat. He is the worthier man . . . and yet. How can he know your worth so well? WEARINESS Weariness ; Neither pain Nor distress. Nor a sleep Sought in vain — Only deep Weariness. [136 REVERIE I am very old to-night, And my light is burning low. There is neither dark nor bright In my seeing; but I see Only ghosts of long ago Gazing on me quietly. . . . I am very old to-night. A CHARACTER The heart of life is hid from him: He has no ear for overtones, No eye for blended hues or dim. Therefore he gives a name to each, Dockets our laughter and our moans, And hastens forth to judge and teach- The heart of life is hid from him. [137] UMBRA In the nighty the heart Feels the breath of things; Gathers sweet or smart Where the eyes are blind. Where no echo clings. In the day, the mind — In the night, the heart ! IN PASSING When all the world was gray. And all the airs were chill, And Summer worlds away. And senses out of tune — You touched me with a thrill Of momentary June, When all the world was gray. [138] RECALL Over the wintry sea I send my heart to you To rouse a memory Of hill-woods, and sweet rain, And the old songs we knew. And bring you home again Over the wintry sea. [139] THE MAKER OF IMAGES THE MAKER OF IMAGES Sunbeam and storm-cloud over the wonderful Sea, whereupon ships labour and mariners Hope and despair, while safe in haven Weavers of dream by the wayside wander Whose hands know not the oar, nor their eyes endure Insurgent ocean. Nevertheless, they live Not vainly, if at heart their dreams be One with the heart of the world forever. Long since, an unknown Maker of Images Walked where the shore looms high before Pergamon Fronting the sea. And while he dreamed there, Suddenly over the bright horizon Fell darkness. Birds cried out, flying heavily Down the wind. Blue gloom, swallowing sail by sail, Swung landward. The tall meadow-grasses Swayed like the mane of a beast in anger Arousing. . . . Then one glare, and a thunderbolt Cracked, and the world went out into colourless Ruin of rain, and sky and headland Blent with the spray of the plunging ocean. [US] POEMS Meanwhile, amazed, the Maker of Images Clung to the cliff. Then rose ; and at eventide, Through dew-sweet fields and rain-washed wood- land Wandered, as one having seen a vision. Homeward, without speech. And for many days Carved on the new-raised altar of Pergamon What he had seen : yet not the unmeaning Welter of cloud over storm-torn water, But warfare of white gods, the Olympians, Against the Earth-Born: Zeus, thunder-panoplied, Pallas, and Ares, and Poseidon Ranging the van of his windy legions, — While underneath, vain Giants in agony Piled mountains; and alone, understanding all, Foam-bosomed Aphrodite smiled down Quietly, out of the heights above them. Storms pass. Untold suns, glooms beyond numbering, Vanish. The unchanging pageant elaborates. And kingdoms fail, and strange commanders Govern imperial generations THE MAKER OF IMAGES Of momentary dust ; and the pyramid Follows the prince where, emulous, tremulous, Like motes along the moonbeam dancing Into the dark, the Enchanter changes Men, and the deeds of men. Yet through centuries Gone, since before that altar, adoringly With arms upraised, the Pergamaeans Gazed, and grew stronger of heart beholding. Their dreams remain. Still, still, as a thousand years Embody June, so now and forevermore New lamps, new eyes, one light undying Hold, and reveal in a thousand rainbows. All gods of all times fight for us, laugh with us ; Forgotten angels cool our delirium; Vague monsters from primeval caverns Widen the wondering eyes of children; And knights of old, high-hearted adventurers, Ride errant with us, making a tournament Of toil; and new-hung moons remember Passion and pang of imagined lovers Whose perfumed souls in blossomy silences Hunger, forlorn: Adonis, Endymion, Brynhild, Elaine, Ysolde, Helen, — Names like the touch of the lips that loved them, — [145] POEMS And brazen-handed heroes who sang as they Charged home against impregnable destiny Clang trumpets in our wars ; and saints leave Lilies of peace by the lonely highway. Pray therefore that, ourselves being treasurers Of beauty brought from Eden, ephemeral Husbands of ageless Dawn, our dreams too Mould for a moment the gold immortal Not fouled by unclean hands, nor unworthily Shapen for gain; nor scorned, while idolaters Of deities unborn unwisely Gather barbarian toys of tinsel To flatter purblind eyes. But remembering The beautiful old gods, and the champions Of storied wars, and sylvan horn-calls Waking mysterious elfin laughter, — We, in our own hour Makers of Images, Charm storm and day-dream into such harmony As men of deeds, beholding, long for. Forging the world into forms of heaven. New York, 1914.. [146] ™' LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 015 907 721 4