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 929 SILVER POOL 
 by 
 BEULAH FIELD 
 
Class 5"// 
 
 Copyriglitlj" /Og?.. 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
A SILVER POOL 
 
A SILVER 
 POOL 
 
 by 
 
 BEULAH FIELD 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 
 1922 
 

 Copyright, 1922, by 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 
 RPR 20 1922 
 
 S)C!.A661377 
 
TABLE OF CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Inspiration 9 
 
 "Beggar-man-Thief" 10 
 
 Carnival 11 
 
 Branded 12 
 
 For an Elizabethan Garland 13 
 
 When I Remember 14 
 
 The Wayfarer 15 
 
 Pierrot 16 
 
 To Ly-y-Hane 17-18 
 
 Wind of the Sea 19 
 
 Perhaps 20 
 
 In the Street of Painted Flowers ..... 21-22 
 
 Mystery 23 
 
 Watch-Fires 24 
 
 Tokens 25 
 
 Cameo 26 
 
 Blue Flames and Flowers 27 
 
 The Law 28 
 
 Miracle 29 
 
 Values 30 
 
 Fame 31 
 
 Rainbow 32 
 
 Glass Beads 33 
 
 Willows 34 
 
 The Dead Lover 35 
 
 Little White Gate 36 
 
 Immortal 37 
 
 My Communion 38 
 
 Stars 39 
 
 Disappointments 40 
 
 Interlude 41 
 
 To My Father 42 
 
 Confessional 43 
 
 Recompense 44 
 
 Mockery 45 
 
 Rebellion 46 
 
 The Messenger 47 
 
 "Needles and Pins" 48 
 
 To June 49 
 
 To CONGDON 50 
 
TO CONGDON 
 
INSPIRATION 
 
 I BRIDLED my soul in its temple, 
 
 Waiting a while, 
 Till I knew the peace of a tempered touch, 
 
 And changeless smile. 
 
 Then I made my heart a silver pool 
 
 Of melody. 
 And stars came down from the sky at night 
 
 And bathed in me. 
 
 -9— 
 
"BEGGAR-MAN, THIEF" 
 
 A BEGGAR on the edge of town 
 Looked up and smiled at me, 
 
 And offered for the coin I held, 
 A seedling laurel tree. 
 
 A merchant in the market-place, 
 
 A laughing, lordly knave, 
 Filled my hands with tarnished gems, 
 
 And took the coin I gave. 
 
 If I could find that beggar-man, 
 I'd give to him my soul, 
 
 If he would share his bread with me, 
 And coppers from his bowl. 
 
 —10— 
 
CARNIVAL 
 
 I GAVE a rose to a dancing girl, 
 
 She did not know 
 It was tribute I paid to a joy, 
 
 Dead long ago. 
 
 I sang my song in the market-place. 
 
 They did not hear 
 I was challenging love with a laugh, 
 
 And grief and fear. 
 
 Life danced on my heart with careless feet, 
 
 And never knew 
 The beauty it gave in gift to me. 
 
 Was tied with rue. 
 
 I walked the ways of a heedless world. 
 
 And found it mad. 
 So, now I drift in the wake of dreams. 
 
 And I am glad. 
 
 —11— 
 
BRANDED 
 
 I HAYE found me a darkling mistress, 
 
 Who is all my need and desire; 
 
 Her slave in a willing bondage, 
 
 I bathe in her opal fire. 
 
 She has given me gorgeous dawns 
 
 From the rim of her saffron seas; 
 
 There is joy in the burning wind 
 
 That comes from her fronded keys. 
 
 I know the grip of her brilliant days. 
 
 And the scorching spell of her nights, 
 
 When pagan gods seduce me 
 
 With the lure of their heathen rites. 
 
 I know the call of her hard, white roads, 
 
 The choking heat of her rains. 
 
 And I laugh in my soul with God, 
 
 At the lash of her hurricanes. 
 
 I have dipped in her amethyst bowl. 
 
 And painted me splendid dreams, 
 
 But I know the clutch of a dreadful fear, 
 
 When her crawling jungle screams. 
 
 I have felt the kiss of her fever, 
 
 That she hides in her tainted breath. 
 
 And have heard the roll of her drums. 
 
 When they beat their songs of death. 
 
 I have trailed with her treacherous spawn, 
 
 And sinned with her exiled band; 
 
 I am tuned to her siren voice, 
 
 And seared with her vicious brand. 
 
 I know the taste of her poisoned bread, 
 
 I am drunk with her evil wine. 
 
 But I am in thrall to her Cross, 
 
 Since she marked me with its Sign. 
 
 —12— 
 
FOR AN ELIZABETHAN GARLAND 
 
 It is content I give to you, 
 And you? 
 You give me love. 
 But I would have the sweet content, 
 And you? 
 Would you have love? 
 
 —13— 
 
WHEN I REMEMBER 
 
 You never come and speak to me when I am 
 
 glad, 
 But only if the flowers in my garden droop 
 
 with rain, 
 And when the sunlight runs away from skies 
 
 gone mad, 
 Then I am hushed, and hear your voice again. 
 Although I light my lamp and bar the door, 
 I feel your presence crowding, more and more, 
 Until I crouch among the shadows on the floor. 
 And watch my memories dance their dance of 
 
 pain. 
 
 —14— 
 
THE WAYFARER 
 
 Only the wind from the Seven Hills 
 Can mate with the heart of me, 
 
 And the mist, adrift on the cliffs at night, 
 That blows from the dusky sea. 
 
 Only the song of the flying stars 
 
 Can reach to my muted soul. 
 And speed my feet on the wild, free track 
 
 That swings from Pole to Pole. 
 
 I spell my lore from the sand of dreams, 
 
 I sleep by eternal meres. 
 My stirrup-cup is the kiss of dawn, 
 
 My hearth is the boundless spheres. 
 
 —15— 
 
PIERROT 
 
 Pierrot came and watched me 
 
 Sewing on my seam, 
 And handed me gay, silken threads, 
 
 Broken from a dream. 
 
 He helped me trim the lantern 
 That hangs beside my door, 
 
 And brought me petaled thoughts 
 To sprinkle on the floor. 
 
 He picked a rose and left me, 
 
 In the shadowed light, 
 But I found the gate ajar, 
 
 Swinging in the night. 
 
 Then I ran and gathered stars. 
 From the hollows of the sea. 
 
 And pinned them on. my breast — 
 Pierrot called to me. 
 
 —16- 
 
TO LY-Y-HANE 
 
 Chinese Poetess, 12th Century A, D* 
 
 Once I heard a singing wind, 
 
 Across a still lagoon, 
 I thought a thousand bells of jade 
 
 Were swinging in the moon. 
 
 And once, I felt soft petals 
 Fall from a flowering quince. 
 
 And trembled when I half divined 
 Your song, that died long since. 
 
 Above the dread and somber beat 
 
 Of mighty, dragon wings. 
 Perhaps my quiet heart will hear 
 
 Your lute of silver strings. 
 
 LY-Y'HAH^E 
 
 * Ly-y-Hane lived during the Song Dynasty, in the 12th 
 century of our era. She is admired, not only as a clever and 
 graceful composer of verses, but as a superior intellect and a 
 true scholar, accustomed to all the minutiae and intricacies of 
 the art of poetry. 
 
 The incurable wound of her heart, bleeding in solitude, is 
 practically the only subject with which she deals. 
 
 As far as can be known, the love that devours this Chinese 
 Sappho is ignored by him who inspires it. 
 
 One might say she was a flower become enamoured of a bird. 
 —17— 
 
The changing seasons are the only events, the objects that 
 adorn her home the only evidences of a life consecrated to 
 the expression of a single sentiment. 
 
 She lived entombed with her suffering, hoping never to be 
 deprived of it or cured, and she named in advance the vol- 
 ume that posterity would perhaps collect of all her scattered 
 verses: "The Debris of My Heart.*' 
 
 From The Book of Jade. 
 (Translated by James Whittall.) 
 
 —18- 
 
WIND OF THE SEA 
 
 The Wind of the Sea is my turbulent lover, 
 When he gathers me close and kisses my face, 
 I rise to the zenith, there to discover 
 Peace, in surrender to his fierce embrace; 
 He holds me and folds me in whirlpools of light, 
 Then lulls me to sleep, in his arms, with the 
 night. 
 
 ■19— 
 
PERHAPS 
 
 It must be hard to be the Moon, 
 
 And weary of the sky; 
 Although I weary of my path, 
 
 Someday I can die, 
 But then perhaps I'll trail with her. 
 
 And weary of the sky! 
 
 —20— 
 
IN THE STREET OF PAINTED 
 FLOWERS 
 
 When will the whirl of this wheel be done? 
 Does the Spinner dream, and my shroud un- 
 
 spun? 
 I am spent with the lust of greedy nights, 
 The fitful flame, and greying lights 
 Masking joy, in this devil's dance. 
 That has tripped my feet on the road of Chance. 
 My song is hushed, and once it sped, 
 As water ripples the river's bed, 
 Through laughing days in the gay bazars, 
 And freed my soul beneath the stars. 
 Now I am bought, as then I was sold. 
 But Allah witness, this is not gold. 
 But tinsel coin, that eats my heart. 
 And sets me aside, a thing apart. 
 Does Heaven sleep, that it lets me be. 
 And blinds my eyes, that I may not see 
 The sun, that came to kiss my cheek 
 When I stepped from my tent to the waiting 
 
 Sheik? 
 I am sick for the sound of camels' feet 
 Padding their way through the languid heat, 
 The scent of cool on the evening air. 
 And the grip of the muezzin's call to prayer. 
 In those desert nights, where the shadows clung 
 To the blowing sand, that swirled and stung, 
 When my lord bent down and I knew his lips, 
 I was fulfilled to my finger tips. 
 Then, I was slave to a king, at least, 
 Now, I am slave to a furtive beast. 
 
 —21— 
 
Did Allah mock, when he stilled my breath, 
 Then called me back from the paths of death, 
 To dance to the tune of reeling spheres, 
 With only a dream to bridge the years? 
 Ash is the flame of my painted shell, 
 I have no heart save the desert's spell. 
 Mine is the fugitive soul of a slave. 
 And I would go back to my sand-swept grave. 
 
 -22— 
 
MYSTERY 
 
 I BEAR on my breast the touch and sign 
 
 Of God and His oriflamme, 
 But only the somber eyes of Death 
 
 Can tell me who I am. 
 
 —23— 
 
WATCH-FIRES 
 
 I CAEE not if the touch of Time 
 Destroys the outer garment of my heart, 
 For deep within, steadfast, a living fire. 
 Love burns, and guards your shrine apart. 
 
 I care not if Death's borders hold 
 A splendid peace, deep as an unshoaled sea, 
 I count peace only in the quiet joy 
 That comes, when you are glad with me. 
 
 I care not if the ruthless years 
 Shadow my soul, in passing on their flight, 
 If, through the devastating dark, I know 
 Your love, a tidal- wave of light. 
 
 —24— 
 
TOKENS 
 
 I BUILT a little fire yesterday at dusk, 
 To burn the gifts of all my broken years, 
 And at the last I tossed upon the flames. 
 The crystalled drops, that once were falling 
 tears. 
 
 When morning came, I gathered all the ashes 
 
 up, 
 Then swept my hearth, to make it clean again, 
 And found, within a crevice of the stones, 
 A jewel, that I knew had once been pain. 
 
 —25— 
 
CAMEO 
 
 A LITTLE room, a dream-lit hearth, 
 Rosemary in a bowl of jade; 
 
 Budding orchard, thrush's song, 
 A golden morning, dappled shade. 
 
 A steel-blue sea, the wind's high will, 
 A red sun dropping down the sky, 
 
 Purple shadows on the dunes, 
 Upon the road, just you and I. 
 
 --26— 
 
BLUE FLAMES AND FLOWERS 
 
 Blue flames, shining in my heart — 
 
 Twice lovely stars, 
 Dear lips, folded close with mine. 
 
 Sweet as scented jars, 
 
 If a myriad scarlet flowers, 
 
 In a jasper bowl. 
 Distilled to leaping fires. 
 
 Could weld us soul to soul, 
 
 I would go across the heavens, 
 
 After night had gone, 
 And gather for you dreams, 
 
 In the gardens of the dawn. 
 
 —27— 
 
THE LAW 
 
 Out of the dark of a night of rain, 
 Day has flowered to hght again; 
 And from the silence the ages long, 
 Has come the joy of a wood-bird's song. 
 
 Broken souls in a barren vale, 
 Created the need for a Holy Grail; 
 And blasphemous sin painted for me, 
 The pale, red bloom of the Judas tree. 
 
 The costly price of hallowed tears 
 
 Has sown the wastes through countless years; 
 
 And over a crimson, riven sod 
 
 Lies a clear, white road that leads to God. 
 
 —28— 
 
MIRACLE 
 
 It is so long ago I lived, 
 
 Holding back the hours 
 
 That sped through days of golden light, 
 
 And brought me laughing showers. 
 
 It is so long ago I died 
 
 To shut my heart from pain, 
 
 And yet, you reach your hands to me. 
 
 And bid me love again. 
 
 —29— 
 
VALUES 
 
 I HEAE you crying for the Moon, 
 When she drifts proudly by, 
 
 And see you reaching for the wealth, 
 She scatters in the sky. 
 
 While I crave only strands of gold 
 
 That fringe your melody, 
 And moon-flowers growing in my heart. 
 
 When you are kind to me. 
 
 —30— 
 
FAME 
 
 I LAY on the edge of desert sands, 
 
 And watched It dance; 
 Mirage was painted before my eyes, 
 
 With brush of chance. 
 
 I followed the track of the Phantom 
 
 Down to the sea, 
 And found that only a chill, spent wind 
 
 Had called to me. 
 
 —31— 
 
RAINBOW 
 
 There was a house of many rooms, 
 Windows and walls and doors, 
 
 Where shadows etched the ceilings. 
 And crept across the floors. 
 
 There sunlight only flickered. 
 
 And seemed a wanton ghost 
 Lavishing an empty feast, 
 
 Upon a motley host. 
 
 When I left that changehng home, 
 
 I hid my ragged scars, 
 Then bound my heart with singing days, 
 
 And night-time climbed the stars. 
 
 -32- 
 
GLASS BEADS 
 
 I WAS a mendicant, begging my bread 
 From pilgrims shouting the dawn, 
 
 And they gave me thorns that tore my robe. 
 And took my prayers in pawn. 
 
 But now, outside the Temple door, 
 
 I stand and let them pass; 
 While I watch for the sun on the Eastern hills, 
 
 They fumble beads of glass. 
 
 —33— 
 
WILLOWS 
 
 When I loitered on the paths 
 Of gay and vivid hours, 
 
 My songs all ran away and hid, 
 And seemed afraid of flowers. 
 
 But in among the shadows, 
 Beneath the willow tree. 
 
 All my little unsung songs 
 Come singing back to me. 
 
 —34— 
 
THE DEAD LOVER 
 
 You say I am dead, that my being 
 Has passed with intangible dreams; 
 You hold me a shadow of shadows, 
 One moat in myriad beams. 
 
 But I am the yield of the harvest, 
 Astir in the ripening corn; 
 My voice is the wind of the forest, 
 I breathe and impregnate the dawn. 
 
 I spring from the womb of the ocean. 
 And rise in its flying foam, 
 Till I merge with the quickening rain 
 That falls on the fertile loam. 
 
 Dear of my heart, when the moonlight 
 Comes dusting the shimmering grass, 
 You may lie unveiled in your bridal. 
 My lips are on yours as I pass. 
 
 You say I am dead, that communion 
 Has spilled from our sacrament bowl, 
 Nay, Love, I am seed of Creation, 
 Immutable flame with the Whole. 
 
 ■35— 
 
LITTLE WHITE GATE 
 
 Little painted, wooden gate, 
 
 Swinging in and out, 
 Crickets chirping in the grass, 
 
 Honey-bees about; 
 
 Hollyhocks and marigolds 
 
 Laughing in the sun, 
 Where quiet pools of shadows 
 
 Ripple, one by one; 
 
 Friendly glow of lamplight 
 Across the window sill. 
 
 From the dark a plaintive voice 
 Calling "Whippoor-will." 
 
 Moonlight trailing up the path 
 
 Draperies of foam. 
 Spell for me contentment. 
 
 And the peace of home. 
 
 —36— 
 
IMMORTAL 
 
 Was he king or a bonded slave? 
 
 The beauty he sang still sings, 
 Vibrant as falling stars 
 
 In the path of radiant wings. 
 
 Does he sleep where the laurel grows? 
 
 Did he beg his cup and his bread? 
 He left the sign of his joy, 
 
 And he lives with the mighty dead. 
 
 Marked by the print of his feet, 
 The dust of this ancient floor 
 
 Glows, spun-flame in the dark. 
 
 What matters the name that he bore! 
 
 —37— 
 
MY COMMUNION 
 
 Cupped in the hollow of your hands, 
 You hold my hidden fears, 
 My faith, the songs within my joy, 
 And all my tears. 
 
 Within the chalice of your heart, 
 There brims compassion's mead. 
 Bounty of foaming drink for me 
 To quench my need. 
 
 I grave the pattern of my love 
 Upon your spirit's bowl, 
 And in the splendour of your wine, 
 I steep my soul. 
 
 —38— 
 
STARS 
 
 When I watch a pale, green sky, 
 At night, upon the hills, 
 
 I wonder if my garden bears 
 Such blowing daffodils; 
 
 And if the lustre of my dreams 
 Comes from those amber rills. 
 
 —39— 
 
DISAPPOINTMENTS 
 
 In the Valley of Nadir lies a deep, black pool. 
 
 And it mirrors only rainy harvest moons; 
 
 In the fringes of its grasses are little bleached, 
 
 white bones, 
 And broken, faded ribbons, from gaudy, 
 
 pricked balloons. 
 Restless shadows stumble 'round it, through the 
 
 hot nights and the cool, 
 And their crippled feet are weighted down with 
 
 stones ; 
 Sometimes an echo whispers of golden, summer 
 
 noons. 
 But you only hear the wind there, when it 
 
 moans. 
 
INTERLUDE 
 
 When Night-time stoops to lay her hands 
 
 Upon my tired eyes, 
 And strings her silver lanterns 
 
 Across the curtained skies, 
 
 Reflected in the mirror. 
 
 She holds above my sleep — 
 I see a golden lotus, 
 
 She bids me pick and keep. 
 
 Then, drugged, my soul goes speeding 
 
 Across a dream-swept plain. 
 Until I stumble back at dawn, 
 
 To break my heart again. 
 
 —41— 
 
TO MY FATHER 
 
 Although you touched my life so brief a time, 
 Because of you, I tread the stressful years 
 With courage, patterned from your quiet 
 
 strength, 
 And laughter tempering my meed of tears. 
 
 Because of you, I hold and reverence books, 
 High in my heart, as is my creed of song, 
 And to the imprint of your kindliness. 
 The measure of my love and faith belong. 
 
 Because you held my hand that little while, 
 I know a joy in all green, growing things. 
 And rapture, when strong music breaks, and 
 
 soars 
 A veil of flame on iridescent wings. 
 
 Your love has framed the window of my life. 
 And as I watch the twilight creeping through, 
 I know whatever sacraments T share 
 With peace and beauty, are because of you. 
 
 —42— 
 
CONFESSIONAL 
 
 Red fire of dawn burning in the sky, 
 Leaping from the purple embers of the night, 
 A sovereign glory in a sapphire cup. 
 This is my altar light. 
 
 Rising from an early-kindled hearth, 
 A pungent veil of smoke spirals in the air. 
 And seems the incense drifting on my heart, 
 That sanctifies my prayer. 
 
 From beyond uncharted seas the wind, 
 
 Like pilgrim priest, comes to bless the waking 
 
 sod. 
 And shrives me in my penitence, then bears 
 My sorrow up to God. 
 
 43- 
 
RECOMPENSE 
 
 Though Hunger shuffles up the path, 
 And leaves his pack of scars, 
 
 When songs sweep through my heart — 
 Bright sails on golden spars, 
 
 I breathe the dust of lilies, 
 Asleep among the stars. 
 
 —44— 
 
MOCKERY 
 
 I DREAMED Love camc with golden thong, 
 
 And bound me to his wrist, 
 Then swept me out on winds of flame. 
 
 Through space the sun had kissed. 
 
 Instead, Love came in jester's garb, 
 
 Flaunting his cap and bells. 
 And led me to a far, strange tent, 
 
 Beside dead, desert wells. 
 
 —45— 
 
REBELLION 
 
 If Death should scatter poppy-dust 
 
 Across my path tonight, 
 Then wrap me in his cold, dark cloak, 
 
 And shut me from the lights 
 
 If he should point a strange, still way. 
 
 How could I bear to go. 
 And never feel again the sun, 
 
 Nor watch a primrose grow? 
 
 —46— 
 
THE MESSENGER 
 
 When you walk a lonely road^ 
 Hand in hand with pain, 
 
 Do you see the broken leaves, 
 Trodden by the rain? 
 
 My heart was like a folded leaf, 
 
 On an April tree; 
 Listen to the rain at night. 
 
 And know your hurt to me. 
 
 —47- 
 
"NEEDLES AND PINS" 
 
 Goblins came and took me 
 
 Long ago, 
 Tossed me up and down the years, 
 
 To and fro. 
 
 Drove me to surrender 
 
 All my faith, 
 And chuckled when they bound me 
 
 To a wraith. 
 
 But came a time the goblins 
 
 Lost their zest 
 For planting stones within my heart, 
 
 As a jest. 
 
 They left me in the garden 
 
 With the weeds. 
 And there I found my faith again, 
 
 Sowing seeds. 
 
 —48— 
 
TO JUNE 
 
 June dreams. 
 
 The twilight world's a-hush, 
 
 The meadows flame with colors from a master's 
 
 brush, 
 And in my garden roses droop and blush; 
 June sleeps and dreams. 
 
 The singing wind blows gently through her 
 
 sleep, 
 While friendly, fragrant shadows keep 
 Their vigils, beautiful and deep, 
 With June, who dreams. 
 
 Communion with my watching heart I hold. 
 Until the day comes to unfold 
 Her laughing hours, steeped in gold, 
 For June, who dreams. 
 
 —49- 
 
TO CONGDON 
 
 When I look among the shadows in my soul, 
 I am glad for every scar and sin; 
 (Oh, little child, upon the threshold of my heart, 
 Stay within!) 
 
 I will mould to golden-tinted globes of pearl, 
 
 My rebellion, with each bruising shame. 
 
 And kindled from my dark, their light will keep 
 
 your dreams 
 Star-frost and flame. 
 
 Then I will mend all broken songs of mine. 
 To thread them on a many-colored string. 
 That you may count them, as you lean against 
 
 my heart. 
 And learn to sing. 
 
 —50-