A 
 
 Class. 
 Book. 
 
 ()op}TightiN"_ 
 
 CDRlRIGHT DEPOSm 
 
(Mrs. Lionel Marks) 
 
 HARVEST MOON. 
 
 THE WOLF OF GUBBIO: A Comedy in 
 Three Acts. 
 
 THE SINGING MAN. 
 
 THE PIPER. 
 
 THE BOOK OF THE LITTLE PAST. Illus- 
 trated in color. 
 
 THE SINGING LEAVES. 
 MARLOWE : A DRAMA. 
 FORTUNE AND MEN'S EYES. 
 OLD GREEK FOLK STORIES. 
 
 HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
 Boston and New York 
 
HARVEST MOON 
 
muiiiisiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 
 
 Harvest 
 
 Moon 
 
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 1 
 
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 By Josephine Preston Peabody [5 
 
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 Is 
 
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 BOSTON y NEtf rORK 
 Houghton Mifflin Company 
 
 1916 • |g 
 
 11 
 
 11I1I|111I1I1I11I11§1§1@1§111I111MI11S 
 
■^'y <V^ 
 
 <'<^; 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY JOSEPHINE PEABODV MARKS 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 Published November igib 
 
 1'"^ 
 
 NOV 23 1916 
 
 ©GI.A4457SL; 
 
 -VJD 1 ^ 
 
NOTE 
 
 The author is indebted to the editors of 
 Scribners Magazine y The Book of ^ 'The Sans-Foyer^ 
 The Texas Review, The Poetry RevieWy The 
 Woman's Journal, The Boston Evening Tran- 
 script, and The New Tork Evening Post-, for 
 permission to reprint certain of the poems in- 
 cluded in this book. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Who goes there ? xiii 
 
 Harvest Moon i 
 
 Cradle Song 3 
 
 PiETA 7 
 
 Dominion 12 
 
 Full Circle 13 
 
 Military Necessity 16 
 
 Dead Chimes . 17 
 
 Men Have Wings at Last . . . .21 
 
 To A Dog 27 
 
 Heritage 29 
 
 Two Songs of a Year 31 
 
 I. Children's Kisses 33 
 
 n. The Sans-Foyer 36 
 
 Sea-Dirge .37 
 
 Seed-Time 38 
 
 June Rose ' • 39 
 
 All Souls' Eve 40 
 
viii Contents 
 
 Three Parting Songs 43 
 
 I. Star-Gazer 45 
 
 II. The Glories to the Dying ... 46 
 
 III. The Moment 48 
 
 The Neighbors 51 
 
 Woman- Vigil 57 
 
 Hunter's Moon 69 
 
 I. Ballad of the Bow-String . . • 71 
 
 II. The Hunted 77 
 
 III. Outcast 79 
 
 Sea-Thirst 81 
 
 Harvest Moon: 1916 84 
 
 Offering 86 
 
HARVEST MOON 
 
TO 
 THE WOMEN OF EUROPE 
 
Halt ! — Who goes there ? 
 A Woman. 
 
 Whence ? And where ? 
 
 Soldier, I cannot tell. I only know 
 This dark is still the world. 
 
 And I must dare. 
 Who bade you try ? 
 My man-child here, his cry. 
 
 1 cannot let you by; 
 
 Woman, I stand on guard. 
 
 ^ 
 
 And I. 
 
HARVEST MOON 
 
 OVER the twilight field, 
 Over the glimmering field 
 And bleeding furrows, with their sodden 
 yield 
 Of sheaves that still did writhe. 
 After the scythe ; 
 
 The teeming field, and darkly overstrewn 
 With all the garnered fullness of that noon, — 
 Two looked upon each other. 
 One was a Woman, men had called their mother: 
 And one the Harvest Moon. 
 
 And one the Harvest Moon 
 
 Who stood, who gazed 
 
 On those unquiet gleanings, where they bled ; 
 
 Till the lone Woman said : 
 
 * But we were crazed . ." . 
 
 We should laugh now together, I and you ; 
 
 We two. 
 
 You, for your ever dreaming it was worth ' 
 
 A star's while to look on, and light the earth; 
 
 And I, for ever telling to my mind 
 
2 Harvest Moon 
 
 Glory it was and gladness, to give birth 
 
 To human kind. 
 
 I gave the breath, — and thought it not amiss, 
 
 I gave the breath to men. 
 
 For men to slay again ; 
 
 Lording it over anguish, all to give 
 
 My life, that men might live. 
 
 For this. 
 
 *You will be laughing now, remembering 
 We called you once Dead World, and barren 
 
 thing. 
 Yes, so we called you then. 
 You, far more wise 
 Than to give life to men.' 
 
 Over the field that there 
 
 Gave back the skies 
 
 A scattered upward stare 
 
 From sightless eyes. 
 
 The furrowed field that lay 
 
 Striving awhile, through many a bleeding dune 
 
 Of throbbing clay, — but dumb and quiet soon. 
 
 She looked ; and went her way. 
 
 The Harvest Moon. 
 
L 
 
 CRADLE SONG 
 
 ORD GABRIEL, wilt thou not rejoice 
 When at last a little boy's 
 Cheek lies heavy as a rose. 
 And his eyelids close ? 
 
 Gabriel, when that hush may be. 
 This sweet hand all heedfully 
 I '11 undo, for thee alone. 
 From his mother's own. 
 
 Then the far blue highways paven 
 With the burning stars of heaven, 
 He shall gladden with the sweet 
 Hasting of his feet : — 
 
 Feet so brightly bare and cool. 
 Leaping, as from pool to pool ; 
 From a little laughing boy 
 Splashing rainbow joy ! 
 
 Gabriel, wilt thou understand 
 How to keep his hovering hand ? — 
 Never shut, as in a bond. 
 From the bright beyond? — 
 
Harvest Moon 
 
 Nay, but though it cling and close 
 Tightly as a climbing rose, 
 Clasp it only so, — aright, 
 Lest his heart take fright. 
 
 {Dormiy dormiy tu. 
 
 'The dusk is hung with blue.) 
 
 II 
 
 Lord Michael, wilt not thou rejoice 
 When at last a little boy's 
 
 Heart, a shut-in murmuring bee. 
 Turns him unto thee ? 
 
 Wilt thou heed thine armor well, — 
 To take his hand from Gabriel, 
 So his radiant cup of dream 
 May not spill a gleam ? 
 
 He will take thy heart in thrall. 
 Telling o'er thy breastplate, all 
 Colors, in his bubbling speech. 
 With his hand to each. 
 
 {Dormiy dormi tu. 
 Sapphire is the blue ; 
 
Cradle Song 
 
 Pearl and beryly they are calledy 
 Chrysoprase and emerald^ 
 Sard and amethyst. 
 
 Numbered so^ and kissed.) 
 
 Ah, but find some angel-word 
 For thy sharp, subduing sword ! 
 
 Yea, Lord Michael, make no doubt 
 He will find it out: 
 
 (Dormiy dor mi tu /) 
 His eyes will look at you, 
 
 III 
 
 Last, a little morning space, 
 Lead him to that leafy place 
 Where Our Lady sits awake, 
 For all mothers' sake. 
 
 Bosomed with the Blessed One, 
 He shall mind her of her Son, 
 Once so folded from all harms. 
 In her, shrining arms. 
 
 {In her veil of blue, 
 Dormiy dormi tu.) 
 
Harvest Moon 
 
 So; — and fare thee well. 
 
 Softly, — Gabriel . . . 
 When the first faint red shall come, 
 Bid the Day-star lead him home, 
 
 For the bright world's sake, — 
 
 To my heart, awake. 
 
PI ETA' 
 
 I 
 
 YOU men of Antwerp, who have Hfted 
 down 
 Once more from His high cross, the 
 Crucified, 
 And from the hands and feet, and pierced side 
 Wiped your own blood, above that anguished 
 
 crown ; 
 There by the belfry-tower that glorified 
 The upward gaze of Flanders and Brabant, 
 Men of Namur, Liege, unconquered Ghent, 
 And leafy fair Ardennes ; 
 Is it with you again, 
 As with those far Judaean brother-men 
 Who saw their glory, and the living Word 
 Of all men's longing slain and sepulchered ? 
 His body left, alone. 
 Unto His own ; 
 And their despair, wherewith to seal the stone. 
 
 ' Read at a Mass Meeting in Boston for the Belgian Relief 
 Fund December i, 19 14. 
 
8 Harvest Moon 
 
 And are your words the broken words they 
 
 had 
 As once they walked together and were sad. 
 Along the smouldering, desolated ways? 
 ^ Now is it many days 
 Since all these things were done. 
 Before the sun. 
 
 And He, the Very God that gave us breathy 
 Is scourged and put to death.* 
 
 Brothers, it is not true. 
 
 By all new-born compassion, now we know 
 
 The Lord is risen indeed ; and walks with you. 
 
 Yes, though your eyes are holden; — yes. 
 
 Through all the wilderness ; 
 
 Through the black desert there, 
 
 The waste of rankling embers, where they go 
 
 As snowflakes on the air, — 
 
 Unknowing whither and unknowing whence, — 
 
 The wingless Innocents, 
 
 The little children. — And, of all that mourn! 
 
 Mothers of trampled sons. 
 
 Perishing, helpless ones, 
 
 The women, women, broken, bruised and 
 
 spent, — 
 Dragging a shattered flight to banishment, 
 
P I E T A 9 
 
 Faint with the weight of woe in men unborn ! 
 Homeless, and guiltless ; west and west and 
 
 north. 
 Whither the lords of famine drive them forth. 
 Along the awful footprints trodden red ; — 
 But shepherded 
 Of Him who had not where to lay His head. 
 
 Heroes, He walks with these. 
 
 The refugees. 
 
 Heroes, He walks with you 
 
 Your widening realm made new. 
 
 Your kingdom vaster now, than ever then ; 
 
 Your world-wide empire in the souls of men. 
 
 II 
 
 And you. New World ? 
 Now that the lightning-blast 
 Of tangled hates has left your heart aghast, 
 What is your answering deed 
 To men at need ? 
 
 The Eyes, that once their startled eyes could see 
 Through the blue morning mist of Galilee, 
 Look on you now, with their one * Lovest thou 
 me? * 
 
lo Harvest Moon 
 
 And with the cry of light that follows death, 
 ' Thou knowest that we love 'Thee ! ' — sobs all 
 
 breath. 
 And * Feed my lambs J He saith. 
 Ah, by that word to keep, 
 By all the sharpness of their more than death, 
 ' With nothing left them but the eyes, to weep,' 
 Shall we not feed His sheep ? 
 
 HI 
 
 Now, with the cold, draws near the holy time. 
 
 When there shall sound no chime, 
 
 From towers that look alone 
 
 On glories overthrown. 
 
 There shall no tongue of bell 
 
 Proclaim Emmanuel, 
 
 To mock with homage thus, 
 
 Our God-with-us ! 
 
 Far on the Syrian plains, the shepherds there 
 
 May pipe to moon-lit air 
 
 White tidings of the Hope of all men's dream, — 
 
 Men yet blaspheme. 
 
 O New World, do not mock 
 
 The desolation of this perisht flock, 
 
P I E T A II 
 
 With chime or festival ; 
 
 While shames and sorrows call 
 
 Above the wind, the scourging, bitter wind, 
 
 For those who sinned, — 
 
 In that they held the unconquerable gate 
 
 Of human hope, against the hordes of hate ! 
 
 Look on that Mother-Country, face to face; 
 
 Stricken that men might live. 
 
 And to her ruin of a manger-place, 
 
 Gather, and rally; — give! 
 
 O Fair-of-fortune, Hope and Humbleness, 
 
 Gather and garner ! — Bless 
 
 Your lowly offerings 
 
 Of precious things. 
 
 Open your treasure forth, for her ; 
 Gold, and frankincense, and myrrh. 
 
DOMINION 
 
 [To the Invaders^ 
 
 LORDS of disaster, waiting still to reap 
 New glory for the dooms that you have 
 sown, 
 New glory for the ruin, stone on stone, 
 And bleeding tribute wrung from them that 
 
 weep; 
 Great is your faith, above the watch you keep, 
 Till there shall spring some vintage of your own 
 Out of the tilth of blood and tears alone, 
 And trodden breath still crying from the deep! 
 
 Yet, lords of famine, one gift late-discerned. 
 But still a triumph and a dwelling place, — 
 One master-work of might is surely done. 
 Only your chosen way could so have earned 
 The men and brothers of the Belgian race. 
 Their everlasting stronghold in the Sun. 
 
 [ 12] 
 
FULL CIRCLE 
 
 \y^jbe Bandage-Makers^ 
 
 NOW no longer is it lace 
 In the golden market-place. 
 Nor a little twilight street 
 Where the day-long neighbors meet : 
 To and fro, and face to face. 
 Talk and shuttle, with the lace. 
 
 — Long ago, and gray and past! 
 But they need us now at last; 
 They are wanting us again, 
 All our men. 
 
 Now it is no longer nets, 
 Brown above the morning sea; — ■ 
 Sea no one of us forgets, 
 Heeding never such as we ! 
 Now no sails to make or mend; 
 Sails, sails, — ships to send 
 Out forever, to the end ! 
 
 Other work and other web 
 Given to our hands again ; 
 
14 Harvest Moon 
 
 For the flood. 
 
 For the ebb, 
 
 (Turn and fold, and fold again,) 
 
 Drop by drop, of shining blood. 
 
 Life-blood that we gave our men. 
 
 Well for me, well for you. 
 Work is ever yet to do ; 
 Web to wear the daylight through ; 
 Work to do ! 
 
 From his first of swaddling-bands. 
 In our hands. — 
 Now he hears, and understands. 
 All our spinning song complete. 
 So he have the winding-sheet. 
 
 Better so: the one refrain, — 
 Back to us, to us again ! 
 All our master-building thus, 
 Back to us. 
 
 This to wind, and this to bathe; 
 Here, to lull with swathe on swathe; 
 So to staunch, and so to bind 
 Darkness softly on our blind. — 
 
Full Circle 15 
 
 Hide away the ruin, frayed 
 From the bodies that we made : 
 Till that all things be fulfilled ; 
 All our treasure spent and spilled ; 
 With the darkening of the sun, 
 When the last of light is gone. 
 
 Kyrie eleison, 
 
 Christe eletson I 
 
MILITARY NECESSITY 
 
 ISCx-iRIOT, never more thy stricken name 
 Sound now the bHnded deeps of infamy ; 
 Nor thy poor hurried, faltering sin shall be 
 The world-worn symbol of an utmost shame. 
 A thousand years, two thousand, still the same 
 Red gleam of torches, ever there to see 
 On the gray darkness of Gethsemane ! — 
 Now, newer lights outflare their simple flame. 
 
 For you, half-hearted, must limp back to say — 
 With but one death of Christ to grieve about ! — 
 ^ Lo, I have sinned, in that I did betray . . . 
 Innocent blood.' 
 
 Now, — weak with no such doubt. 
 Men write : * No hate was here. Our chosen way 
 They chose to bar. — 
 
 And they are blotted out.' 
 
 [.6] 
 
DEAD CHIMES 
 
 WHERE the night smouldered. 
 Heaped, stone on stone, 
 They watched together, 
 Gods overthrown. 
 In the black desert, 
 "With smoke for a shroud, 
 The wounds of their dumbness 
 Throbbed out, aloud. 
 
 One with the throbbing 
 Of the wounds of Time, 
 They spoke together; 
 They that once did chime. 
 
 *I was that strong one. 
 That joyous lord 
 Over these valleys. 
 Where morning poured! 
 To our high places 
 My voice over-fills, 
 There lifted their faces. 
 All the young hills ! 
 
i8 Harvest Moon 
 
 * I was their tidings ; 
 I, their Great Bell, 
 
 Gave them God's greeting, 
 Through Gabriel.' 
 
 'At the bidding of Mary, 
 With my sweet sound, 
 I blessed the rapt meadows 
 Kneeling around ; — 
 Now battle-ground, 
 Now battle-ground ! 
 
 'With the voice of my pity 
 Poured forth as wine, 
 I folded my City : 
 It was all mine, 
 
 — Mine! 
 
 * Here in my bosom, ■ 
 Dove and bright dove 
 Nested them, under 
 The word of my love.' 
 
 * And they and their makings the mighty men and 
 
 skilled ; 
 Men to dream dreams ^ and arise then^ and build; — 
 
Dead Chimes 19 
 
 Are they all parted ? As the sunk sands ? 
 And the mothering women, who spun with their 
 hands ? 
 
 Women wise-hearted? 
 
 Women^ that knew 
 Well to weave twinings ; the scarlet of hue. 
 
 Purple, and silver and blue ? 
 
 * They and their building ; and their precious 
 
 things : 
 Carven and glorious, with multitude of wings! 
 Woods sweet of savor, and golden overlaid; 
 Windows as day shine for wonder, that they made. 
 
 'These to be plunder. 
 
 And a shattered spoil: — 
 Incense of their burning, and sanctuary oil. 
 
 Treasure of their toilV — 
 
 * Strong men at length, 
 That swung us to our towers. 
 Glad men of strength. 
 They were all ours. 
 
 Ours ! . . . 
 Then, nave and spire, 
 Joy climbed and came. 
 Then, choir on choir, 
 
20 Harvest Moon 
 
 Song burst as fire, 
 Song poured as flame ! * 
 
 'And I, that called. 
 Full of God's breath, 
 Words that He saith. 
 Shall I be thralled 
 To iron death? ' 
 
 * I that made glad 
 The hills round about, — 
 Shall the tongue of my glory 
 Now be plucked out ? — 
 That said All Hail I 
 In the one Name, 
 Be so betrayed? — 
 Molten, and made 
 Some tool of shame ? ' 
 
 Where the night smouldered. 
 Heaped stone on stone. 
 These spoke together. 
 Exiles, alone: 
 Throbbing, even so; 
 They that one time. 
 Long while ago, 
 
 . . . Did chime. 
 
MEN HAVE WINGS AT LAST 
 
 Si^he Air-Raid^ 
 
 WOLF, Wolf, — stay-at-home. 
 Prowler, — scout, 
 Clanless and castaways, 
 And ailing with the drought ! 
 Out from your hidings, hither to the call ; 
 Lift up your eyes to the high wind-fall ; 
 Lift up your eyes from the stagnant spring; 
 Overhead, overhead ! The dragon thing, 
 What should it bring? — 
 Poising on the wing?' 
 
 * Wolf, wolf, old one, — I saw it, even I ; 
 Yesterday, yesterday, the Thing came by. — 
 Prowling at the outpost of the last lean wood. 
 By the gray waste ashes where the minster stood, 
 And out through the cloister, where the belfry 
 
 fronts 
 The market-place, and the town was, once. 
 High, high, above the bright wide square. 
 And the folk all flocking together, unaware, 
 The thing with the wings came there. 
 
22 Harvest Moon 
 
 Brother Vulture saw it, 
 
 And called me as it passed : 
 " Look and see, look and see^ 
 Men have wings at last I " 
 
 * By the eyeless belfry I saw it, overhead. 
 Poise like a hawk, — like a storm unshed. 
 Near the huddled doves there, from a shattered 
 
 cote, 
 I watched too. — And it smote. 
 
 'Not a threat of thunder, not an armed man, 
 Where the fury struck, and the fleet fire ran. 
 But girl-child, man-child, mothers and their 
 
 young, 
 New-born of woman with milk upon its tongue ; 
 Nursling where it clung ! 
 
 * Not a talon reached they, then, the lords of 
 
 prey ! 
 But left the red dregs there, rent and cast 
 
 away ; — 
 Fled from the spoil there, scattered things 
 accurst ! 
 
 It was not for hunger ; 
 It was not for thirst. 
 
Men have Wings 23 
 
 * From the eyeless belfry. 
 Brother Vulture laughed : 
 
 " 'This is all we have to see 
 For his master-craft ? 
 Old ones^ — lean ones. 
 Never now to fast. 
 Men have wings at last / " ' 
 
 'Brought they any tiding for us from the Sun?' 
 
 * No, my chief, not one.* 
 'Left they not a road-mark, how the way was 
 won ? ' ' . 
 
 ' No, my chief, none. 
 
 'But girl-child, man-child, creature yet unborn, 
 Doe and fawn together so, weltering and torn, 
 New-born of woman where the flag-stones bled: 
 (Better can the vultures do, for the shamed 
 
 dead !) 
 Road-dust, sobbing, where the lightnings burst! 
 It was not for hunger; 
 It was not for thirst.' 
 
 'Brought they not some token that the stars 
 look on?' 
 
 ' No, my chief, none.* 
 
24 Harvest Moon 
 
 * Never yet a message from the highway over- 
 
 head ? ' 
 
 'Brother, I have said.' 
 
 * Old years, gray years, years of growing things, 
 We have toiled and kept the watch with our 
 
 wonderings. 
 But to see what thing should be, when that men 
 had wings. 
 
 * Sea-mark, sea-wall, ships above the tide ; 
 Mine and mole-way under-earth, to have its 
 
 hidden pride. 
 Not enough ; not enough ; more and more 
 beside. 
 
 * Bridle for our proud of mane ; then the triple 
 
 yoke ; 
 
 Ox-goad and lash again, and bonded fellow- 
 folk ! 
 
 Not enough; not enough; — for his master 
 stroke. 
 
 * Thunder trapped and muttering and led away 
 
 for thrall, 
 
Men have Wings 25 
 
 Lightnings leashed together then, at his beck 
 
 and call ; 
 Not enough ; not enough, for his wherewithal ! 
 
 * He must look with evil eye 
 On the spaces of the sky ; 
 He must scheme and try ! 
 While all we, with dread and awe. 
 Sheathing and unsheathing claw. 
 Watch apart, and prophesy 
 
 That we never saw. — 
 
 * Wings, to seek his more-and-more. 
 
 Where we knew us blind ; 
 Wings, to make him conqueror 
 
 With his master-mind; 
 Wings, that he outwatch, outsoar 
 
 Eagle and his kind ! 
 
 * Lo, the dream fulfilled at last ! And the dread 
 outgrown. 
 
 Broken, as a bird's heart ; fallen, as a stone. 
 What was he, to make afraid? — 
 Hating all that he had made, 
 Hating all his own! 
 
26 Harvest Moon 
 
 * Scatter to your strongholds, till the race is run. 
 (Doe and fawn together so, soon will it be done.) 
 Never now, never now, ship without a mast, 
 In the harbor of the sun, do you make fast! 
 But the floods shall cleanse again 
 Every blackened trail of men, 
 Men with wings, at last ! ' 
 
TO A DOG 
 
 SO, back again ? 
 — And is your errand done. 
 Unfailing one ? 
 How quick the gray world, at your morning 
 
 look. 
 Turns wonder-book ! 
 Come in, — O guard and guest : 
 Come, O you breathless, from a life -long 
 
 quest ! 
 Search here my heart ; and if a comfort be, 
 Ah, comfort me. 
 You eloquent one, you best 
 Of all diviners, so to trace 
 The weather-gleams upon a face; 
 With wordless, querying paw, 
 Adventuring the law ! 
 You shaggy Loveliness, 
 What call was it? — What dream beyond a 
 
 guess, 
 Lured you, gray ages back. 
 From that lone bivouac 
 Of the wild pack ? — 
 
28 Harvest Moon 
 
 Was it your need or ours ? The calling trail 
 Of faith that should not fail ? 
 Of hope dim understood? — 
 That you should follow our poor humanhood. 
 Only because you would 1 
 To search and circle, — follow and outstrip, 
 Men and their fellowship ; 
 And keep your heart no less, 
 Your to-and-fro of hope and wistfulness, 
 Through all world-weathers and against all 
 odds ! 
 
 Can you forgive us, now? — 
 Your fallen gods ? 
 
HERITAGE 
 
 ^ND if that men should cease from war^ 
 /-§ What surety can there be 
 
 Of hardihood and sovereignty 
 And mighty so battled for ? 
 Whence shall a master draw his strength 
 And splendor^ if so be, at length , 
 1'he strong man cease from war?' 
 
 Oh, he might some day light his mind 
 With fires that glowed when he lay blind ; 
 The watch-fires of all motherkind. — 
 The ardors that encompassed him 
 While he lay hid, unmade and dim. 
 Beleaguered as a bonden thrall, 
 With her lone body for a wall. 
 And she, his stronghold of a year 
 Against the armaments of fear, — 
 Her arms his wreathed cherubim. 
 Fought with the hosts of hell for him, 
 And smiling in the eyes of Death, 
 Tore from her heart his gift of breath." 
 
 Tet, * Whence shall be their hardihood^ 
 If men forbear to spill mens blood?* 
 
30 Harvest Moon 
 
 From her uncounted agony- 
 Through climbing ages all worn by. 
 Could he not learn the way to die, 
 Transfigured with some radiant Why ? 
 From the same wells of hero-stuff, 
 He still might draw duress enough 
 To dare and suffer, — be, and build; 
 Till some far flaming Dream fulfilled. 
 Made the loud song in every vein 
 Sing triumph to her, for her pain ; 
 Triumph, of one more glorious way 
 Than plunder for a beast of prey ; 
 Triumph at last, against all odds 
 Set up by the indifferent gods ! 
 
 Man-child, — the starveling without help. 
 Less able than a tiger's whelp, — 
 Housed only, once, in her embrace. 
 Weak bud of the destroying race ! 
 O fool and blind, and battled for. 
 Whose strength is this you spill in war. 
 But hers? — Who laughed the stars to scorn. 
 When you were born. — 
 
 When you were born. 
 
TWO SONGS OF A YEAR 
 (1914-1915) 
 
I. CHILDREN'S KISSES 
 
 SO ; it is nightfall then. 
 The valley flush 
 That beckoned home the way for herds 
 and men, 
 Is hardly spent. 
 Down the bright pathway winds, through veils 
 
 of hush 
 And wonderment. 
 Unuttered yet, the chime 
 That tells of folding-time; 
 Hardly the sun has set. 
 
 The trees are sweetly troubled with bright words 
 From new-alighted birds; — 
 And yet, . . . 
 Here, — round my neck, are come to cling and 
 
 twine. 
 The arms, the folding arms, close, close and 
 
 fain, 
 All mine ! — 
 I pleaded to, in vain, 
 
 I reached for, only to their dimpled scorning, 
 Down the blue halls of Morning; 
 
34 Harvest Moon 
 
 Where all things else could lure them on and on, 
 
 Now here, now gone, — 
 
 From bush to bush, from beckoning bough to 
 
 bough, 
 With bird-calls of Come Hither! — 
 
 . . . Ah, but now. 
 Now it is dusk. — And from his heaven of 
 
 mirth, 
 A wilding skylark, sudden dropt to earth 
 Along the last low sunbeam yellow-moted, 
 Athrob with joy, — 
 There pushes here, a little golden Boy, 
 Still-gazing with great eyes. 
 And wonder-wise. 
 
 All fragrancy, all valor silver-throated. 
 My daughterling, my swan, 
 My Alison 1 
 
 Closer than homing lambs against the bars 
 At folding-time, that crowd, all mother-warm. 
 They crowd, — they cling, they wreathe; 
 And thick as sparkles of the thronging stars, 
 Their kisses swarm. 
 
 O Rose of being, at whose heart I breathe, 
 Fold over; hold me fast 
 
Children's Kisses 35 
 
 In the dark Eden of a blinding kiss. 
 
 And lightning heart's-desire, be still at last! 
 
 Heart can no more, — 
 
 Life can no more, 
 
 Than this. 
 
II. THE SANS-FOYER 
 
 L 
 
 OVE, that Love cannot share. 
 
 Now turn to air ! 
 And fade to ashes, O my daily bread; 
 
 Save only if you may 
 
 So be the stay 
 
 Of the uncomforted. 
 
 Look down, you far-off lights, 
 
 From smoke-veiled heights, — 
 If there be dwelling in our wilderness ! 
 For Love, the Refugee, 
 No stronghold can there be, — 
 No shelter more, while these go shelterless. 
 
 Love hath no home beside 
 
 His own two arms spread wide; — 
 The only home, among all walls that are; 
 
 So there may come to cling, 
 
 Some yet forlorner thing, 
 Feeling its way, along the blackened star! 
 
 [36] 
 
SEA-DIRGE 
 
 SEA-BIRD, forever wailing through the 
 sky, 
 Sea-bird, forever searching, now let be. 
 Dash thy wild heart against the light, and die, 
 For sorrow on the sea. 
 
 Night-wind, that all the weeping years of time, 
 Sang a mad song of horror yet to be. 
 
 Now is the hour; let not that wild voice climb 
 The steep on steep of flaming prophecy. 
 Night-wind, let be. 
 
 Threaten no longer, with that drowning call. 
 
 The children, for their little moment stilled ! 
 Now that the moon is turned to blood, and all, 
 All doom fulfilled. 
 
 [37 ] 
 
SEED-TIME 
 
 WOMAN of the field, — by the sunset 
 furrow. 
 Lone-faring woman, woman at the 
 plough, 
 What of the harrow ? — there so near their fore- 
 heads. 
 
 Can there be harvest, now ? 
 
 *My one Beloved sowed here his body; 
 
 Under the furrows that open so red. 
 All that come home now, have we for our chil- 
 dren. — 
 
 They will be wanting bread.' 
 
 [38] 
 
JUNE ROSE 
 
 YOU that put forth, warm and unshud- 
 dering 
 From the Hve vine, to breathe another 
 
 Spring, 
 Answering so the query of the air. 
 Red lips that dare! — 
 Parted and smiling now, — 
 This is the selfsame earth where men did plough 
 And plant ; brown earth, and eyeless to foresee 
 What men could be. 
 Now the earth knows ; 
 
 And the torn fields, furrowed to endless shame. 
 And you are there. 
 You kiss upon the air. 
 Without a tear to shed. 
 Over the million dead; 
 Nor yet for those 
 
 Outnumbering hearts turned ashes with their 
 dead. 
 
 Earth to earth. 
 
 Ashes to ashes, 
 
 Dust to dust. . . . 
 Oh, is it all the same then, to a rose? 
 That you dare be red ? 
 
ALL SOULS' EVE' 
 
 MOTHER, my Mother, Mother- 
 Country, 
 Where is the window with the 
 light ? 
 Wounded I come; groping I come. 
 Over a blackness, and a blight ! ' 
 
 * Hush you J hush you, my darling ; 
 
 ^estion no more of the light. 
 Morning and evening were the first long day ; 
 And now is the midmost night* 
 
 * Mother, my Mother, Mother-Country, 
 
 Why does the red, red ooze 
 Brim through my field where the brook did 
 run ? 
 And the blood on thy heart there, — whose ? * 
 
 ' On All Souls* Day, November 2d, in many parts of 
 Europe, a portion of bread is left on the cottage table with 
 a lighted candle, to welcome home the souls of the dead who 
 have died during the year. 
 
All Souls' Eve 41 
 
 * Hush yoUy hush you^ my way-worn ; 
 
 Heed not to ask me whose. 
 Thy breath and mine, and the Earth' Sy are one; 
 And one is our life we lose* 
 
 * Mother, my Mother, Mother-Country, 
 
 Yet were the fields in bud. 
 And the harvest, when shall it rise again 
 Up through the fire and flood ? ' 
 
 * Wonder not, wonder not, darling ; 
 
 Grieve not at fire nor at flood. 
 But when did ever a Mother, yet. 
 Drink of her children's blood? ' 
 
 * Mother, my Mother, Mother-Country, 
 
 Was it not all to save 
 Harvest of bread ? — Harvest of men ? 
 And the bright years, wave on wave ? ' 
 
 * Search not, search not, my way-worn ; 
 
 Search neither weald nor wave. 
 One is their heavy reaping-time 
 
 'To the Earth, that is one wide grave* 
 
42 Harvest Moon 
 
 *Ah, but my Mother, — Mother-Country, 
 
 When shall our triumph be ? 
 Wounded I am, — blinded I am: 
 
 This, — is it Victory ? ' . . . 
 
 * O Man-child of my longing ! 
 
 Plead with me not ; — let be. 
 Sleep on, till day. I will ask our way^ 
 
 Of the stars far offj that see,' 
 
THREE PARTING SONGS 
 
G 
 
 STAR-GAZER 
 
 OLDEN earth, 
 
 Now it is time to part, 
 To you, the new red wine that over- 
 flows 
 
 My dripping heart ! 
 
 Golden friends. 
 That starred the long way through. 
 This the last breath, — in the last kiss, 
 To you. 
 
 Golden star. 
 Lean down, lean close a moment, and go by ; 
 Since it was you who bade me all the while. 
 
 Live, — sing, and die. 
 
 [ 45 ] 
 
THE GLORIES TO THE DYING 
 
 E 
 
 YES that widen to the light, 
 Dying eyes, fulfilled of Sight ; 
 
 * Heart of ebb-tide, ebbing fast, 
 Do you know us at the last ? 
 
 * Do you know us, where we bring 
 All our thwarted offering ? — 
 
 * In our bright hands overflowing. 
 All the light there was for knowing, 
 
 Garnered to your going ? 
 
 * Longing, longing from the first, 
 So to rain upon your thirst! — 
 
 * LifCy and could it shew you this 
 Only with the parting kiss ? ' 
 
 • ••••• 
 
 * Calling glories of the Sun, 
 
 All up-gathered in the one: — 
 
Three Parting Songs 47 
 
 * Ah, and can you see me now, 
 Eyes of light ? — Fading brow ? 
 
 * Harken, pitiful and dear ! 
 Life it is at last, so near : 
 Life and all the lights thereof. — 
 Do you know me ? Do you hear? 
 I was Love.' 
 
 Tou that take your leave, alone , 
 Only now to find your own ! — 
 Could Life never tell you this, 
 Till the parting kiss ? 
 
L 
 
 THE MOMENT 
 
 IFE had said no word to me : 
 I saw not. But now I see. 
 
 For I heard the trumpet call, 
 ^ Live, live, — once for all. 
 Spend thy golden wherewithal ! * 
 
 O I heard the trumpet sing, 
 
 * Death, death, where is thy sting ? * 
 
 And the volley called to me, 
 
 * Grave, where is thy victory ? ' 
 
 (Ah, but Mother, — close beside. 
 Look not as the Crucified, 
 
 With your eyes to ask me so. 
 
 Child, and did you never know?) 
 
 For I heard the trumpet call, 
 
 * Spend thy golden wherewithal! 
 Live, — give, — Fight and fall ! ' 
 And I flung my all. — 
 
THE NEIGHBORS 
 
THE NEIGHBORS 
 
 NOW at the end, neighbor, 
 Do you not see ? 
 In the gray light of our late awaking. 
 How even he 
 
 Who brought this doom to be, 
 He too is ours, 
 And of our making ? 
 
 We that sat by, neighbor. 
 
 We that were still ; 
 
 That gave our souls to the weaving, the baking; 
 
 Veiling our foreheads 
 
 Under his will ; 
 
 Still singing lullaby over heart-breaking. 
 
 There in the fields 
 
 We ploughed at his need; — 
 
 And the bright-sown field of the stars, we left 
 
 fallow. 
 To the small weed 
 We gave heavy heed ; 
 While the Light pined. 
 That was ours to hallow ! — 
 
52 Harvest Moon 
 
 Praising, — praising, 
 
 His conquering hands; 
 
 And his wrath ; and his spoils, at his coming 
 
 and going ! — 
 The strength of his limb. 
 As the glory of him ; — 
 We, the well-knowing. 
 
 We that knew well 
 
 Of Life, in the giving ; 
 
 Costly to build, neighbor; 
 
 Costly with living. 
 
 He, from a babe. 
 
 Eager for taking 
 
 All of the perilous gifts of our making ; — 
 
 Swift, — skilled, at the breaking! 
 
 Were we not those. 
 
 Woman and mother. 
 
 Who stripped too well 
 
 The thorns from his rose ? 
 
 Who gave our all. 
 
 Even as he chose, — 
 
 Into the widening grasp of his hand ? 
 
 Though he be slayer, at last, of his brother. 
 
 How should he understand? . . . 
 
The Neighbors 53 
 
 Here, at the end 
 
 Of the light of our forsaking. 
 
 Is not even he. 
 
 Who would be lord. 
 
 With the fire and the sword, 
 
 Still our man-child? — 
 
 Ours, and our making? 
 
 We that obeyed, — 
 
 Woman and wife ! 
 
 We that sat dumb ; 
 
 We that were lowly ! 
 
 While all the breath and the voices of Life, 
 
 All things that are, — 
 
 From stubble to star, — 
 
 Sang, — Holy, holy. 
 
 Holy . . . 
 
WOMAN-VIGIL 
 
WOMAN-VIGIL 
 
 YOU that sleep not, Shadow moving at 
 midnight. 
 To and fro, where the windows glimmer 
 and darken. 
 To and fro, where you with your ailing treasure, 
 Lean down to harken : 
 
 You that sleep not. Shadow behind the case- 
 ment. 
 Toilful Shadow, gaunt from the cup of sorrow ; 
 Humble, ceaseless, shaping late in the midnight. 
 Bread of to-morrow ! 
 
 You, wan Shadow, wasting your lighted taper, — 
 Light of your eyes, at a stitch-by-stitch adorn- 
 ing; 
 Starven starlight, paling even as stars do. 
 
 Toward the gray morning: 
 
 You that keep your watch by the countless 
 windows, 
 
58 Harvest Moon 
 
 Waking, working, there where they gleam and 
 
 darken. 
 Even you that over the wide world's breathing, 
 Lean down and harken : — 
 
 Dark Immortal, — Shadow of mortal woman, 
 Why awake, when the sentries sleep, and the 
 
 sages ? 
 Towering Shadow, flung on the dark of night- 
 time, 
 
 Dark of the ages ? 
 
 {Loud from the tower 
 Swung the Bell. 
 And the sentry called^ 
 'Airs well!' . . . 
 'The candle flared 
 Before the night. 
 The Shadow trimmed the light.) 
 
 II 
 
 What new pride, you of the ceaseless vigil. 
 Knocks at your heart? Or what far folly of 
 
 questing 
 Stirs you now, between the loom and the 
 
 cradle ? — 
 
 Woman unresting ! 
 
Woman -V i g i l 59 
 
 What vain-longing, — circle and cry of sea- 
 birds, 
 
 Holds your eyes, with the sleepless light beside 
 you ? 
 
 All the besieging years, your toil and your 
 burden. 
 
 Who hath denied you ? 
 
 Who hath said to you, * Rest ; yea, rest for your 
 portion ' ? 
 
 Who forbade your eyes their watch or their 
 weeping? 
 
 Who withheld the helpless years of the man- 
 child 
 
 From your sole keeping? 
 
 Mind of the moon is yours; her song and her 
 strangeness: 
 
 Singing, spinning, — even as her earth-born 
 daughters 
 
 Spin, and sing ; yet laying her strong command- 
 ment 
 
 Over the waters. 
 
 {'The echoes died 
 Around the hour. 
 
6o Harvest Moon 
 
 Back flew the doves ^ 
 
 Back to the tower. 
 
 The house lay dark 
 
 In sleep, within. 
 
 The Shadow turned, to spin.) 
 
 Ill 
 
 Is it some new thirst, of a shining peril ? — 
 Glorious Death, men sing as they go to greet 
 
 him, 
 Far and far ? — But turn you again to your 
 
 shelter ! 
 
 There shall you meet him ; 
 
 Greet him, speak him fair, O hostess and hand- 
 maid ! 
 
 Loitering hearthside guest, what pride should 
 he kindle? 
 
 Face to face with your waiting smile, — and 
 holding 
 
 Flax for the spindle ! 
 
 Not for men's red harvest, weariless Woman ? 
 Spoils of empire ? Triumph of shuddering won- 
 der?— 
 
Woman-Vigil 6i 
 
 You, who fought with vultures over your 
 treasure, 
 
 Yea, for such plunder ! 
 
 You who shore your hair by the walls of Car- 
 thage ! — 
 
 Gave your haloing hair, but to arm the bow- 
 men, — 
 
 Smiting white through that long-spent storm 
 of arrows. 
 
 Lightnings of omen ! 
 
 (One by one. 
 
 The stars went by ; 
 
 The Shadow barkened 
 
 For a cry. 
 
 The sentry went. 
 
 Whose watch was done. 
 
 . . . The Shadow spun.) 
 
 IV 
 
 Not yet spent, with the night of that endless 
 
 travail ? — 
 Sons of men, slaying the sons of mothers! 
 Not yet spent ? For all shed life of your giving ? 
 Yours, not another's. 
 
62 Harvest Moo 
 
 N 
 
 Who but you, to spin of your breath with beauty? 
 Pluck the light of the stars you fight in their 
 
 courses ? — 
 Light, for the morning-gaze of the torn young 
 
 eyelids. 
 
 Trampled of horses ! 
 
 Who but you, — to bear the bloom and the 
 burden ; 
 
 Breath and death, and doom of the world, for 
 your share ? 
 
 Breath for men, and men that shall die to- 
 morrow; — 
 
 Glory of warfare ! 
 
 Breath for men ; bodies for men, — for women ; 
 Women to breathe and bloom, and bring forth 
 
 in sorrow 
 Men, — men, to nurture and rear as worship; 
 Men for to-morrow! 
 
 {"The tide ebbed; 
 
 I'he tide turned ; 
 
 'The wind died ; 
 
 The taper burned. 
 
 The cock crew 
 
 That night was done. 
 
 . . . The Shadow spun.) 
 
Woman-Vigil 63 
 
 V 
 
 Shadow, Shadow, all the late voices urge thee 
 Leave thy vigil now for a noon of slumber. 
 Surely mayst thou shut from thy mothering 
 eyelids 
 
 Griefs without number 1 
 
 Where the covering darkness lifts from the 
 
 housetops. 
 Baring stark those wretched beyond their tell- 
 
 Count not thou their wants and their wounds ! — 
 nay, go not 
 
 Forth of thy dwelHng. 
 
 What wilt thou see? — The thousand shames 
 
 and hungers ; 
 Old despairs, clinging thy thousand pities ! 
 What wilt thou hear? — Save who must faint 
 
 and famish. 
 
 Through all thy cities ? 
 
 The morning-stars 
 
 Were laughing all. 
 
 'The Shadow heard them call. 
 
 The darkness called her by her name. 
 
 The Shadow rose and came. 
 
64 Harvest Moon 
 
 'There were the early stars astir y 
 And one and all they laughed at her. 
 O sisterwise they sung to her ; 
 Old songs y old words they flung to her. 
 She knew again^ again : 
 The olden laughter of a star. 
 From long ago^ and far and far ! 
 But all their music and their mirth 
 Fell, as the little words of earth. 
 Unto an old refrain : — 
 Silver laughter and golden scorn. 
 Across the soothsay of gray morn. 
 With the smiting of sweet rain. 
 
 VI 
 
 *Spin — spin! Thou who wert made for spin- 
 ning ! 
 
 We are but stars that fade. Thou, thou art 
 human. 
 
 Thou, the spinner, — yea, from the far be- 
 ginning. 
 
 Made to be Woman. 
 
 'Come, come forth, — unto the uttermost bor- 
 ders; 
 
W O M A N-V I G I L 65 
 
 Forth, where the old despairs and shames im- 
 plore thee, 
 
 Forth of thy small shut house, — where thy 
 dominions 
 
 Widen before thee. 
 
 * Spin, — spin! Lift up thy radiant distaff: 
 Spinner thou art, — yea, from the dim beginning, 
 Life and the web of all life, and the hosts and 
 
 their glory; — 
 
 Thine was the spinning ! 
 
 *Spin, — spin! while that the Three were spin- 
 ning. 
 
 Thou behind them gavest their flax, O Mother; 
 
 Thou, the spinner and spun, and the thread that 
 was severed; — 
 
 Thou, not another. 
 
 * Spin, — spin ! Lift up thy heart with thy 
 
 spinning; 
 Look and behold it, shading thine eyes- from 
 
 our laughter; — 
 Life and the glory of Life and the hosts of the 
 
 living. 
 
 Here and hereafter ! 
 
66 Harvest Moo 
 
 N 
 
 * Fear not, fail not ! Let not thy lowliness draw 
 
 thee 
 Back to thy small shut house, O thou too 
 
 lowly ! 
 Here, in thy shrining hands the web of thy 
 
 glory, 
 
 Blinding and holy. 
 
 * Never thine own ; not for thy poor posses- 
 
 sion, — 
 
 Locked in darkness, spent with a dim en- 
 deavor ; — 
 
 Life and the web of All Life, and the hosts 
 of the living, 
 
 Now and forever. 
 
 * Rise, come with the sun to the chorusing 
 
 vineyards ! 
 We are but stars, that fade. And thou art 
 
 human. 
 Put on thy beautiful garments, O thou Beloved, 
 Thou who art Woman. 
 
 * Rise, come ! Blow out thy tremulous rush- 
 
 light ; 
 Come, where the golden tides give cry of warning. 
 
Woman-Vigil 67 
 
 Over the dark, flooding the world with wonder, 
 Flows the first morning ! 
 
 'Rise, come! Known at last of the nations; — 
 Even of this dim world thou hadst in thy keep- 
 ing.— 
 Thou sole sentinel over the dark of the ages ! — 
 Love, the unsleeping.' 
 
HUNTER'S MOON 
 
BALLAD OF THE BOW-STRING 
 
 HUNTER, — Hunter, with the moon- 
 shaped Bow, 
 Is it man you wait to slay? Or the 
 thirsting doe? ' 
 
 * Woman, — strange one, early at the spring, 
 What is here for your great eyes, in a daily 
 
 thing?' 
 
 * Hunter, — ah, I know! 
 
 * Morning-dream awoke me, and winged me on 
 
 my way ; 
 Morning-dream laid on me a hidden thing to 
 
 say : 
 When I saw thee bend here the great moon- 
 
 shapen bow, 
 And twice and thrice thy fingers plucked the 
 
 sinew so, 
 
 For its yea or nay ! 
 
 'Taut it was. — It trembled as a netted bird. 
 Wild for flight, and shuddering through feathers 
 bright and blurred. 
 
72 Harvest Moon 
 
 Wild the air fled from it, that spread in echoing 
 
 rings, 
 Till it woke a star far-oiF, — it woke my heart 
 to wings, 
 
 Hunter, when I heard, 
 — With its singing Word ! 
 
 * Then it was, the Sun strode singing from his 
 lair. 
 
 And bound my sandals on me, and grasped me 
 by my hair. 
 
 And sped me forth to meet thee, lord of them 
 that prey, 
 
 — Sped me forth to meet thee, with one word 
 to say. 
 
 Shall we be no wiser now, than with stone and 
 sling? 
 
 Is this too for blood-shed ? — This, the moon- 
 shaped thing ? 
 
 And the god within it? — Wilt thou slay or sing? 
 
 — Wilt thou slay or sing? 
 
 *Thou lookest on the creatures, from a high 
 
 noonday, 
 With this wonder in thy hand, for thy heart's 
 
 soothsay : 
 
Hunter's Moon 73 
 
 And the hour calls out on thee : 
 
 Shall it sing, or slay ? 
 
 Shall it sing, or slay ? ' 
 
 * Woman, wandering woman, — and sudden as 
 
 a fawn. 
 What is this -moon-madness, by the wells of" 
 
 dawn ? 
 You would bind me with your eyes, that hold 
 
 me listening : 
 Trick and bind my heart of wrath that has made 
 
 me king : — 
 
 Shall it slay, or sing ! ' — 
 
 * Hunter, never arrow spake as that singing word. 
 Wounded with the joy of it, all my longings 
 
 stirred, — 
 Stirred and woke, and woke my heart ; as a 
 
 rescue call 
 So might burst a captive's bond, to hear his 
 
 wherewithal ! 
 Even so, the seeking ships, outstripped by a 
 
 bird. 
 Strain their thews and struggle on, — to sagas 
 
 sudden heard. 
 
 Of their whitherward ! ' 
 
74 Harvest Moon 
 
 * Woman, weaving mazes of all beyond thy 
 
 ken, 
 When the bright wide earth is mine, with all 
 
 its fighting men, 
 
 — Shall be singing then! 
 Mad one, come to stay me here, — riddling 
 
 for delay. 
 Of my weapon that is mine, for my yea and 
 
 nay. 
 Would you rather hear it sing, then, than see 
 
 it slay ? 
 
 — Turn your eyes away.' 
 
 * Hunter, for the thousand years, do as thou 
 
 hast done ! 
 
 Till the red drops flow, flow down, from the 
 blinded Sun ; 
 
 Till the withered lights drop down, spent, for 
 thee and me. 
 
 And the bright things meet the dark, darkened 
 utterly ; 
 
 Drowned beneath the weeping Dark, under- 
 neath the sea; 
 
 In the deep on deep of all: — 
 
 . . . Tears, tears, maybe. 
 
Hunter's Moon 75 
 
 * Sun-mad thou with noonday, and thy red 
 
 pulse in thee. 
 Moon-mad I, with anguish of a wonder not to 
 
 be!' 
 
 — * What is that to thee ? ' — 
 
 'Hunter, was it nothing? Once to hold in 
 
 thrall, 
 With thy hands, the tortured god, that might 
 
 shew thee all ? — 
 For the moment that it sang, — shuddering 
 
 for the light. 
 All my soul was cloven through, pierced with 
 
 spears of sight. 
 
 *And I saw and heard it. And I saw us twain. 
 Bright with our own wakened eyes, by this 
 
 spring again. 
 And the golden echoes, flocking, sea-bird wise, 
 Widening to the sea-rim, — fled with golden 
 
 cries ; 
 Sounding forth a glory, from the strand on 
 
 strand 
 Of thy master music, gathered in thy hand : 
 All the tongues of sooth-say, gathered and set 
 
 free. 
 
76 Harvest Moon 
 
 All the tongues of sooth-say, — flame for thee 
 
 and me ! 
 Till the winds crept closer, — the winds, to 
 
 understand, — 
 And the tides to hearken : 
 
 And the stars, to see ! ' 
 
THE HUNTED 
 
 COME out of exile, come, come : the 
 harvest-fields grow gaunt. 
 The over-lord, he has gone his way. 
 Lordlier spoil is his to-day. 
 Beasts of burden and beasts of prey, 
 
 "Why will you suiFer want? 
 
 Free of the seas, go free, great-finned : though 
 
 the sea be filled with nets. 
 Free of the air; — for the watcher there, after 
 
 strange prey, forgets. 
 
 Choose your path as you will, lord ox ; for 
 
 women follow the plough. 
 Take your fill, gray wolf, of the flocks. There 
 
 are no shepherds now. 
 
 They have made them gods out of Iron and 
 blood ; and they plough a smouldering 
 path. 
 
 Blind and blinded, they follow now, the eyeless 
 gods of wrath. 
 
78 Harvest Moon 
 
 And the shepherding Man who held His heart 
 for a light in His own two hands, 
 
 Houseless as you, an outcast too, — bleeding 
 and spent He stands; 
 
 Bleeding afresh from open wounds, under the 
 sky, alone; 
 
 To warn all souls that yet pass by, of the por- 
 tion that Love shall own. 
 
 For the Hunter, bond to his bitter path, goaded 
 
 and yoked, he plods 
 Under a scourge of knotted lies, — after the 
 
 iron gods. 
 
OUTCAST 
 
 DAY again. Is he breathing yet. 
 Brother? — He hangs there still. 
 I crept close by, where the cross is 
 set. 
 Under the broken hill ; 
 And down from his side, the drops ran wet 
 Where the spears had done their will. 
 
 Who would have guessed that One the 
 worst? 
 
 Look you, how deep they lie ; 
 Bodies of men, — bodies of men. 
 
 Over the field hard by: 
 Only that one nailed up alive. 
 
 For a warning; — slow to die. 
 
 Needs must he be a Man to dread. 
 
 But how should he last the day? 
 With his heart torn wide, and beating red. 
 
 Since the army marched away. — 
 What if we called him now, to know 
 
 The thing he strove to say ? 
 
8o Harvest Moon 
 
 He was the Man of might, be sure, 
 That they chose this way accurst. 
 
 And he breathes : but says no word at all, 
 • Since one I heard, the first : — 
 
 Low, but all we could understand ; 
 In our own tongue. — * / thirst.^ 
 
D 
 
 SEA-THIRST 
 
 Down to the Sea^ — the Sea, 
 I'hat waits to set men free ! 
 
 OWN to the sea I came. 
 The sea was all one flame : 
 The sea, the thousand glories and the 
 same ! 
 
 From every wave did run ! 
 A thousand lights — and one, 
 With rainbow-shattered halos of the sun ! 
 
 From every light that sprang, 
 A music rang 
 Back to the thronging tide, that surged and 
 sang. 
 
 The tides with rapturous lips, 
 Sang on, — sang on the ships: 
 The sun-path dipped, in star-sown far eclipse. 
 
 O veil of farness, donned, 
 And shed as any bond. 
 For veil on veil of beckoning beyond; — 
 
82 Harvest Moon 
 
 O Sea, that would outstrip 
 Slow dreams of fellowship, 
 Beckoning still, beyond the sails that dip! 
 
 Wings, wings, forbid it me, 
 
 My own should prison me 
 
 From that mirage of glimmering prophecy : — 
 
 The dearness dim-divined. 
 Of stranger-kind. 
 That far horizon calls me on, to find! 
 
 Lest I should wall me in 
 With my near kin; — 
 Lead on, — lead on, to where the stars begin. 
 
 O sea-path, and sea-fire 
 To light the far folk nigher. 
 And thirst, forever one with heart's desire 1 
 
 Still sing me to the ken 
 
 Of singing, sailing men; 
 
 The nearing lights and eyes, — again, again! 
 
 With sagas of the foam. 
 That sing the good ships home 
 From east and west, to port of spire and dome. 
 
S E A-T HIRST 83 
 
 With harbor-lights, that are 
 As word of star to star, — 
 The mother-tongue of light, from near to far ! 
 
 All hail ! . . . 
 Call of the sparkling trail 
 That bids my heart on, as a lifted sail ! 
 
 The sail fulfilled of Breath : — 
 Triumphing sail, that saith, 
 'And whither now? And whither now, — 
 O Death ? ' 
 
 Down to the Sea^ — the Sea^ 
 'That waits to set men free! 
 
HARVEST MOON: 191 6. 
 
 MOON, slow rising, over the trembling 
 sea-rim, 
 Moon of the lifted tides and their 
 folded burden. 
 Look, look down. And gather the blinded 
 oceans, 
 
 Moon of compassion. 
 
 Come, white Silence, over the one sea pathway: 
 Pour with hallowing hands on the surge and 
 
 outcry, 
 Silver flame ; and over the famished blackness, 
 Petals of moonlight. 
 
 Once again, the formless void of a world-wreck 
 Gropes its way through the echoing dark of 
 
 chaos ; 
 Tide on tide, to the calling, lost horizons, — 
 One in the darkness. 
 
 You that veil the light of the all-beholding, 
 Shed white tidings down to the dooms of 
 longing, 
 
Harvest Moon: 1916 85 
 
 Down to the timeless dark ; and the sunken 
 treasures, 
 
 One in the darkness. 
 
 Touch, and harken, — under that shrouding 
 silver, 
 
 Rise and fall, the heart of the sea and its 
 legions. 
 
 All and one ; one with the breath of the death- 
 less. 
 
 Rising and falling. 
 
 Touch and waken so, to a far hereafter. 
 
 Ebb and flow, the deep, and the dead in their 
 
 longing : 
 Till at last, on the hungering face of the waters, 
 There shall be Light. 
 
 Light of Light, give us to see, for their sake. 
 Light of Light, grant them eternal peace ; 
 And let light -perpetual shine upon them ; 
 Light, everlasting. 
 
OFFERING 
 
 TO you, poor offering of a lowly cup, 
 My heart, here lifted up. 
 To you, and to the undying starlight 
 shed 
 From your far-following hearts, O mothers 
 of the dead. 
 O lovers of the dead, who died alone 
 
 For Life's bright sake ! 
 For men unborn and far-off stranger kin; 
 Storming the hells of hate, to climb and take 
 The morning heights unwon, — 
 Where Life shall have its own ; 
 Where Love shall have its own ; 
 And freemen of all breath shall gather in 
 The harvest of the Sun. 
 
CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS 
 U . S . A 
 
h^S.'*"^ O"" CONGRESS 
 
 018 349 295 
 
 ii'if;