IN DEEP PLACES AMELIA JOSEPHINE BURR Class Book. Goipghtl^'?. r^ !4 COPYRIGHT DEPOSm IN DEEP PLACES IN DEEP PLACES ^3oo£of\erse bsepnine urr reora&KPoran/ompam r63ro3 \^\V Copyright 1914 By GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY OCT (9 1914 ©CI.A387096 To J. "O thou that knowest, turn and see — "Heart of my heart, have I done well?" A number of the poems in this volume are here included through the courtesy of the publishers of the Century Magazine, Harper's Monthly, Scribner's Magazine, The Bellman, the London Bookman, the Nation, the Ladies* Home Journal, Lippincott's, Harper's Bazaar, the De- lineator, and the Poetry Journal, in which magazines they first appeared. CONTENTS CONTENTS Page Jehane i Allah is With the Patient lo At Dendera 19 Romeo's Tomb 23 Petruchio's Wife 26 Rameses Worships Rameses 30 In the Roman Forum 34 Perugia 38 In Bozen of a Sunday 41 Anne Hathaway's Garden 43 The Heart of Venice 44 Queen Mary at Fotheringay 46 Ludwig of Bavaria 48 A Lynmouth Widow 50 The Love of Woman 52 A Wish 54 An Idle Song 55 Amorino -5^ Surprises 58 In Deep Places 59 His Song for Her Waking 60 The Narrow Way 62 The End of It . . 64 A Miracle 66 [-] CONTENTS Page The Toys' Complaint 67 The Forfeit 69 I Was Too Proud ........ 71 To a Pressed Rose 72 In Memory of a Dumb Friend .... 74 To a Child 75 Aunt Jane 76 Lie- A wake Songs 78 A Poet 81 A Minor Poet 83 One of Many 84 Whom the Gods Love 86 The Guest 88 The Voice of the Unborn 90 New Life 93 The Standard Bearer 94 The Double Crowning 95 Beauty 98 The Sacrifice 100 The Lame Child . . ... . . .102 Gypsy-Heart 104 The Vagabond Grown Old 106 Children of the Night 107 The Little People 109 Here Stood a House 11 1 The Cricket in the Path 113 Three Women 115 The Child in Black 118 [ - ] CONTENTS On a Hill-Top 119 Dawn 122 The Hero 125 Immortal 127 To Walter Scott 130 IN DEEP PLACES IN DEEP PLACES I JEHANE " And had she come so far for this — "To part at last without a kiss, " Beside the haystack in the floods ! " Morris, N garments gray of sleety rain The wind across the sodden plain Went visibly, and through it went Gray as a gust, her slender form Swathed in wet robes, and forward bent Against the pushing of the storm. Stumbling she ran, as one far spent. But the pale splendour of her face Was set as toward a try sting place. And there was need of glances twain Ere one could see the lines of pain Round lips grown patient ere their day. And mark the early white that lay Like Lenten ashes in her hair. She went with eyes that never swerved Until at last she halted where The glazing pools had wellnigh drowned A heap of timbers that had served To prop a haystack, in years past. She stretched her on the icy ground [7] IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) Sighing for sheer content, as one Who wearied leans when day is done Upon love's breast, and said — At last — At last I come to you, to tell Of all these years. If ill or well I did, judge you; and yet, somehow, I think you will not judge me, now. But only stoop from God's right hand And whisper, " Dear, I understand/* Can they have wiped in Paradise So well the sorrow from your eyes That from your heart is cleansed away Even the shadow of that day When you and I, in just this place, Met death and Godmar face to face Beside the haystack in the floods? You by the sword to perish, I Later by bitter ways to die In Paris as a sorceress Unless . . . but there was no " unless " For me, who loved you so, I knew At such a price, each breath you drew _ IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) Would strangle you. I answered No. I never have forgot to miss Through all these years, the single kiss Denied our parting, long ago. But then I saw the end so near I thought, " Not long the waiting. Dear, " Until we meet !"...! did not know. . w HEN you were dead, he freed from stain His blade, and sheathed it. Through the rain We rode toward Paris. Wet and gray Closed in the curtains of the day. And as we rode, I thought, — " To night ! " Death is a bridal flower of white, " Mine for the plucking ! " And I swore That you and I should meet before The mockery of another dawn. Rapt from the flesh I rode, and ere I woke to know that we had drawn Rein at an inn, Godmar was there Beside my stirrup. Down I slid Ere he could touch me. [3] IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) " What I did, " You bade me do ! " I heard his breath Catch like a sob. " You still choose death, " Jehane? It is not yet too late — " It seemed I was too tired to hate. For I felt nothing. Pale and grim I saw the tortured face of him An evil star against the night, And then — it faded. . . . When the sight Came back to me, I lay in bed, An old bent woman o'er my head Crooning in mother-wise, her face Kind in the firelight. " Mary's grace " Be praised," she cried, " you live at length ! " Drink this, dear lady, mend your strength ! " I turned away, but — " Think ! " she said ; " A double hunger must be fed. " Not yours alone the need." My heart Stopped. Then it strove to beat apart My breast. With lips grown stiff and cold [7] IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) I stammered, " He must not be told — " Godmar — as you may hope for Heaven ! " " No whisper, by the Sorrows Seven! " She vowed, and then — " You had not known ? " Poor child. . . ." I might have been her own. I cannot pray for her by name — God knows her, though. The morning came, But now I could not bear to die. The trees against a perfect sky Prickled with twigs. It seemed that I Was part of the awakening earth And that to bring your child to birth Was all for which myself was made. I would have trodden unafraid Hell's deepest, with that end in sight. Robert — the gates of hell that night Again stood open. I went in. . . . [5] IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) T CARED as little for the sin As for the anguish and the shame. It seemed my secret swept like flame Body and soul, and burned them clean. About his castle, gold and green The thickets kindled, and I said Within my heart, " When they grow red. God pitied me; ere spring was spent War called to Godmar, and he went. Watched like a prisoner was I But strangely sweet the days went by Until I smiled to see at last The crimson leaves come whirling past. Robert — the rapture of that pain! w HEN with the snows he came again, I had resolved what must be done. Silent I met him, with my son Held in my arms. He stopped astound. In all the room there was no sound But his hoarse breathing. Then — " Jehane . . . . " I had not thought of — this . . ." he said. IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) w ITH solemn masses we were wed. What mattered it that Godmar gave The boy his name? There were your brave Clear eyes — your brow — I feared to bear Godmar a child, lest he compare The twain, when he must needs have known. ... But years went by, with yours alone The pivot of our household pride. He seemed the gallant heart that died In me, with you. And Godmar — strange That simple happiness can change A man so much ! Thwarted desire Made him a fiend — but when the fire Was left unchecked, it swiftly burned Its violence away, and turned To comfortable embers, fit To warm a hearth where musing sit Good placid folk whose youth is done. While he would talk of what " our son " Should do, sometime — far far away m IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) As through the rain, I saw that day When murdered at his feet you lay, And thought, could it be I and he Who sat at meat so quietly. Your boy between us! Years that seem, Now they are over, like a dream I am too weary to recall. . . . The night he died, I told him all. One heavy tear slid down his cheek. He fought for breath awhile, then, weak But clear, he spoke — " My heir . . . the same. ..." No more. And so to Godmar came His touch of greatness at the end. I prayed for him as for a friend. ry OBERT, it seems to me to-day No life is wholly thrown away. We are the seedcorn, you and I, Dead in the dark, that youth may pry The clods asunder toward the sky. My part is played, my task is done. [8] IN DEEP PLACES JEHANE (continued) Life opens nobly to our son. The King has made him knight, and he Has now no longer need of me — Man as he is, and true, and strong. . . . The kiss that I have kept so long,— It seems that all my life has passed Into that kiss . . . and now ... at last. Beloved . . . now. . . . A sigh, and then No other sound. So still she lay The hailstones on her mantle gray Deepened to little drifts like snow. This was the way they met again Where they had parted, long ago. [9] IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT A LLAH is with the patient. Long ago I sat with eyes and thoughts that wan- dered far And heard as in a dream my father's voice Speaking to me as now I speak to thee, Who heedest Httle as I heeded him. What place had patience in a young man's heart? The sky was languid with the sunset glow, The sweet air swooned with purple mys- teries, — Was it an hour for aught but eagerness As women passed on slender tinkling feet. Flashing like jewelled beetles from the dusk, And vanishing again, yet leaving clear A trail of perfume on the evening air That drew a man to follow? Who was I To squat with gray-beards by the waning fire? IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) Well I remember how the challenge came Of jasmine scent from wayward garments blown And how I leapt to meet it! As I went, I heard my father sighing in his beard, "Allah is with the patient." But there comes An end to eagerness. I had not thought I could grow weary of enkindling eyes. Slight luring limbs, and fingers trained to beat The song of passion on the hearts of men As on a darabukkeh. But there came A night when I grew sick of jasmine scent As of the scent of fever, and the sight Of smiling lips moist-parted left me cold — A night when walls closed like a trap on me. And like a grave-stone lay upon my head The shadow of the roof. So I went out Under the calm illimitable sky. Under the quiet scrutiny of stars That stood apart like spirits, and looked on, And as I felt the sweep of desert wind IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) Upon my face, I raised my voice and sang. " Wise with much seeing are the eyes of night. " What can amaze, what sicken, what delight " The passionless cold vigil of the stars? " Too much has been for any more to be "That can dismay their far tranquil- lity " T DID not sing the ending of the song, '■■ " Thine eyes are like the stars, O heart of me — " Like the unmoved omniscience of the stars. . . ." I could not sing those words; the eyes I knew Smouldered like perfumed braziers near to earth, Or like the homely embers that make warm The cooking-pot. " Perchance in Paradise," I thought, " the houris that are Allah's glance " Of favour on the faithful, have those eyes " Of wise and starry calm. I will await [T7] " IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) " The gaze of them." And as there came to me A sudden memory of my father's words, I fiung them like a challenge to the stars — "Allah is with the patient!" I was young. . . . T HE hand of power on our village closed, For there was war; and many of the youths Went full of heaviness, with backward eyes. It was not so with me ; gladly I strode As to a feast, and bright upon me shone The lifted brows of peril — but I found Small glory in that war ; of hunger much, And much of weariness and aching limbs. Much of the lurking death we could not see That trod our shadows, striking from be- hind— The sudden bullet singing from the waste Was our mean death-chant, not the gener- ous cry IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) Of clanging steel; it seemed we never ceased Panting across interminable sands Down into troughs that, sneering, the mir- age Painted with blue like sky-reflecting pools, Up over ridges where the sand slid back. Drowning the print the lifted foot had left, Sweating we laboured ; always as it seemed We came too late for glory. Other swords In hostile blood found easing of their thirst. And other eyes with pride of battle burned, — Not ours, that strained too often toward the blue That mocked us in the hollows of the sand Looked dull upon a pool that was no lie. As when we knew that we were free to seek Our homes again, and that the war was done And victory was ours, that " victory " Left us but listless, for its sound was flat Like a cracked cymbal. Once again I said [14] IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) " Allah is with the patient ! " and a man Who heard it, laughed. His laugh was ill to hear, But lo, his eyes gave back my face to me, And my own smile was bitterer than his. But softly spoke another, " Dost thou laugh, "Brother? It is no jest — the word is true — "Allah is with the patient. Blessed be " His name to all the ages." " It is well " For thee to speak, perchance," the laugh- er said. " Thou goest gladly to a waiting home ; "What dost thou care for glory? But for me " A woman waits who will but spit on me " Since I have won no fame to honour her." " And I," then cried myself, " for me there waits " No woman anywhere ; my only hope " Was glory for the glory's sake, and now, " Cheated of that, I am a dupe indeed." " Nay," said our comrade gently, and I saw [15] IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) A little pulse that quivered in his cheek, "For me there waits no woman. She is dead, " And on her breast the babe I never saw " Is also dead. I had no will to go — "The soldiers took me. Blessed be the name " Of Allah — '' " And you still can say," I cried, "That he is with the patient?" Then he turned The slow majestic sadness of his look Full upon me. " Were it not so," he said, "Would they not be more lonely than the stars? " He went away, and left us there afraid — And yet he was a little man, and weak. Humbler I turned me homeward, for I knew There was a thing I had not understood. When to the village I came back at last, There were no s6ngs for me. I looked for none. [i6] IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) Only my father met me at the door And peered into my face, for he was old And saw but little — yet he saw enough To make him smile. " It is my son," he said, " He has come back to me a man at last — " Allah is with the patient." So I stayed Quiet among my people, and I ploughed My father's feddans, and the days went by. I wedded and was faithful — if at times Dreams drew me forth alone beneath the stars. She found me no less kindly for the dreams. Then thou wert bom, and when I looked on thee As full of pride she laid thee in my arms, I saw in thee those wise and starry eyes Of lonely glory — and my heart was glad. Finding my dream come true. But with the years The heavenly wonder died, and in its place — IN DEEP PLACES ALLAH IS WITH THE PATIENT (continued) The old earth-wonder came. And then I thought " Would he but learn of me — " Ah ! he is gone. . . . Each for himself must turn the page of life And read its wisdom through a blur of tears, And yet — might I have made it clear to him, My son! May Allah, blessed be his name, Allah, whose heart has yearned the ages through To every generation, as my heart Yearns to my son, — may Allah give him light. Thou who art with the patient, lead him home And give me of thy patience, while I wait. [i8] IN DEEP PLACES AT DENDERA TTERE in this narrow chamber, where one ray ^ Quickens the jewel-coloured walls, I stand Alone, a Queen, to speak to thee, a Queen. I, Cleopatra, lift my face to meet Thy silent face, Hathor, in this thy house, Hither I came through fields of mellow green Where prostrate peasants lifted peering eyes To see the Great Queen's passing; labour fell Stricken to silence at the sight of me. Only the patient saqquias wailed on As round and round the blindfold bullocks trod — And yet I knew behind me they arose Like trampled grain, and went about their toil, Even as my courtiers when my shadow falls No more upon them, turn them to their sport. U9] IN DEEP PLACES AT DENDERA (continued) That world — what has that world to do with me? Here in thy temple, here am I at home, For thou and I are one at heart. To thee Hath ever been my longing, though at first I knew it not. Earth was too beautiful — I could not see beyond — and all of me That was of earth, cried out for earth's de- light. I was athirst for life, and royally I took what I deemed life — ay, like a Queen I crushed the grapes of mortal joy and drank The wine thereof, and still I was athirst. Again I sought new vintage, and again. While to my fingers clung the lees like blood. Hathor, thou Merciless ! I give thee thanks. Through all those drunken days I thirsted still! And yet I was so slow to understand. Nor knew that when on passion's very mouth I trembled and grew cold, it was thy face -_ IN DEEP PLACES AT DENDERA (continued) That came between, slaying the transient joy With thine immortal breath ; and so I fled From lover unto lover, till at last I knew that not in man was my desire Nor in the fruit of man. I came to thee, Hathor, at last, as now I come to thee. It is enough that I am beautiful For Beauty's sake — I ask not that men's eyes Caress my loveliness, nor that a child Should bear it like a banner down the years. Enough for me that I myself have lived And looked upon thy face of mystery. Thou Gladness of the gods. ... I am con- tent. Have I not proved what earth-bound hearts call joy? Love . . . what is love ? Have I not known desire, — Yea, have I not brought forth a son? And yet My heart was still athirst. Thou knowest, thou, {7r\ IN DEEP PLACES AT DENDERA (continued) Smiling that still wise smile of thine. Thou too Hast borne a Horus, yet we worship thee Not babe at breast, like Isis, but alone, Mateless, unconquerable, — there is not one Of all the gods may dare to call thee his. Mistress of whom thou wilt, but slave of none. Therefore, since thou hast shown to me thy way. Free as the desert wind, I lift to thee My hands, and in them, Eg5^t. Unto thee Will I raise up a temple, fairer far Than even this; to thee will I raise up Myself in perfect beauty, perfect power, My foot upon the weakness of mankind, Spuming it while it lifts me. Men shall see Hathor in Cleopatra, and bow down Smitten to worship that shall know no end. Yea, even Rorne! Thou seest . • . and shalt see. . . . ND nearing cloudlike o'er the lower blue, Antony's galley swelled her amber sails. A [22] IN DEEP PLACES A AT ROMEO'S TOMB Y, gentle stranger, here lies Romeo. Thou art no Veronese . . . from Flor- ence ? What, Speak they of Romeo so far away? Tell me, my son, what do they say of him? " The king of lovers — and a noble heart " Unwilling to brook life when love was gone -— " Are they not young who say it — mates of thine ? So many words that blossom fulsome sweet Ripen to bitter fruit as men grow old — I would not have you think of Romeo thus. His death was noble? Nay — it was but young. No friend of his ? I was his nearest friend, Even more privy to his inmost mind Than was Mercutio's self, I dare to say. And therefore I would have thee think of him IN DEEP PLACES AT ROMEO'S TOMB (continued) Thoughts that shall change only toward ten- derness As the blood cools and slackens in its race And less of life lies in a woman's hand. Judge not my Romeo as a man is judged. . . . Hadst thou but seen him when he came to me! (He knew that I would shelter him, poor child, Though he had laid a score of Tybalts cold) We heard Verona roaring through the streets Louder than floods in spring. The memory After so long, is pitiful to tears — His heart was fluttering like the candle-flame Before the altar, on a w4ndy day. Romeo a man ? No, no — he was a child, A slender, scarcely-budded slip of spring. The calyx-bursting promise of a rose Flung to the foamy rage of Adige And beaten down the rapids to its doom — A blade untempered, broken ere its time In the great battle — oh, a child, a child IN DEEP PLACES AT ROMEO'S TOMB (continued) Caught in the millstones that grind up men's hearts To be the bread of centuries unborn. Dreaming, he was enamoured o£ a dream, And from the drowsy wonder of his eyes Rubbed life like sleep away ; so burst on him The blinding day of immortality. . . . On him, who was not yet awake to earth ! How like a child astray he must have stared Upon the pitying angels ! Juliet? Ay, call her woman if thou wilt, for she Can bear thy judgment; but for Romeo — Pray thou for him to-night as for a child. My name ? 'Tis Laurence. Peace to thee, my son. [25] IN DEEP PLACES PETRUCHIO'S WIFE Y, go your ways, my lord. Look where he struts And ruffles it along the sunny street ! His doublet*s broken at the seam again — 111 look to it when he comes home. He's worse Than any wanton youngling on his gear. A gallant bearing — he is well worth ten Of my fair sister's pretty mummer. Bah ! Playing the schoolmaster to win a bride He might have had by knocking at the door And shaking a fat purse ! Petruchio Measures more nearly to a man's degree ; Yet he is but a boy, an o'er-grown boy. Was ever man so easily deceived? What, did he think that he could master me By wearying my body, starving it, Shaming it with vile raiment? Bless the fool! And yet I swear I did not bless him then — IN DEEP PLACES PETRUCHIO'S WIFE (continued) I could have slain him rather ; but I thought, " Kate, thou art married ; make the best of it. " Thou hadst been wiser to lead apes in hell, " But since thy cup of folly has been poured, " Drink it off smiling. He shall pay anon." There at Bianca's feast, when he would show His power so braggartly, I had well-nigh Defied him to his face, — but I recalled Hortensio's fine madam, and her taunt. " What other way to sting so well," thought I, "As show myself the model, her the shrew? " Eh, did I sweetly play the pattern wife? Ask of Petruchio's purse, where merrily His fellow-bridegroom's golden forfeits clinked — (Until he spent the better part of them Upon a cap richer an hundredfold Than that I spumed to please him!) Am I tamed? Thus much, perhaps . . . that now I play my part IN DEEP PLACES PETRUCHIO'S WIFE (continued) Not bitterly, but laughing in a sleeve Which now is fashioned to my own desire, I praying his approval ; and instead Of anger at his boastful boyishness Is something, neither pity nor yet love — The child of both, perchance. I used to think That when I held the larder keys, himself Should fast some day, to pay that fast of mine. But when the time came, I no longer cared For little vengeance on a little wrong. And so I feed him well, and speak him fair, And keep him bravely clad, and when he meets His friends, he vaunts the merits of his wife, While they all marvel at the mastered shrew ! Look — he comes home — he*s never long away. How boyish-gay he v/aves an eager hand, Seeing me waiting at the window here ! [28] IN DEEP PLACES PETRUCHIO'S WIFE (continued) God rest thee merry, good Petruchio; How I could love thee . . . wert thou more a man! My excellent dear lord! Art thou returned? Then is the day grown bright for Katharine! [29] IN DEEP PLACES RAMESES WORSHIPS RAMESES AT ABU SIMBEL O F all the gods I understand thee least, Thou god whose altar is the heart of me; Therefore I leave the Others to the priest While I myself do reverence to thee. Avails my worship aught? The incense mounts In silent exhalation like a prayer Made visible — what sense of thine accounts Acceptable its fragrance? Thou art — where? I call unto the Others, and they hear; But thou — I cannot tell. Thou art too near. 4c 4: ^ 4: ^ T HE Sun I know: the lotus-bud of dawn Through countless vigils have I seen un- fold. Veil after veil of green and rose withdrawn IN DEEP PLACES RAMESES WORSHIPS RAMESES (continued) Yielding at last the blinding heart of gold To me expectant. I have known the Sun, His kindness and his wrath, as I have known The counsellor who sits at my right hand, Yet thou to me art still the Hidden One. The cold mysterious Moon, pacing alone His jewelled house — the restless golden sand Forever changing, like another sea — The fruitful River in its majesty, Mother alike and father of our land — These I can see, these I can understand. What veil impenetrable shelters Thee? ^TpHE Judges of the darkness and the dead, Unhuman arbiters of heaven and hell, Creatures whose face is not the face of man. Creatures whose power of life and death began With life and death, and shall with them be sped — Unseen, I know them; yea, I know them well. ~1 IN DEEP PLACES RAMESES WORSHIPS RAMESES (continued) I call them each by name . . . but thou Unknown, What name have I to call thee save mine own? M INK own — and yet I know thou art not I. Here in this teniple have I honoured thee Where by the River, carven giant-high. My fourfold image, eloquently dumb. Sits dominating centuries to come. I say it is thine Image — do I lie ? A CROSS my proudest moments I have heard ■^ ^ Thy terrible hushed laughter; stranger still — Sometimes amid the battle, as I fought With a god's fury, plain as spoken word Thy patient weary sigh revealed to me My rage as futile as the prize I sought. And often when my courage has been chill With inward questioning, my languor caught Fire of a sudden from thy smile unseen. [3^] IN DEEP PLACES T RAMESES WORSHIPS RAMESES (continued) Again, when some flushed vision swift and keen Struck music from my fancy, as the sun From Memnon, came thy calm, unuttered scorn — "So many lessons — dullard, still un- taught? '' ***** HOU art a god, and I am but a king. The people hail me god, and oft a glow Responsive thrills me, till thy thought I know — " Thou simple fool, thou perishable thing, "'Tis I they worship — thou art but the shrine." Nay, I am more— -else could I know thee there ? I know that in some sort I am divine. Yea, this I know — and yet I know not how — When the last mystery to me is bare. The underworld shall show me on thy brow The final beauty Death has wrought on mine. [33] " IN DEEP PLACES N IN THE ROMAN FORUM OTHING but beauty, now. No longer at the point of goading fear The sullen, tributary world comes near Before all-subjugating Rome to bow. No more the pavement of the Forum rings To breathless victory's exultant tread Before the heavy march of captive kings. Here stood the royal dead In sculptured immortality, their gaze Remote above the turmoil of the street Hoarse with its living struggle at their feet. Here spoke the law — that voice of bronze was heard By all the world, and stirred The latent mind of nations in the bud. Bright with the laurels, bitter with the blood Of heroes upon heroes was this place Where the strong heart of an imperial race _ IN DEEP PLACES IN THE ROMAN FORUM (continued) Beat with the essence of a nation's life. Princes and people evermore at strife — Incense and worship — clash of armoured rage — Ambition soaring up the sky like flame — Interminable war that mortals wage From century to century the same. Still Fortune holds the crown for those who dare; Mankind in many a distant otherwhere Leaps panting toward the promise of her face — But here, no more of coveting nor care. No longer here the weltering human tide Sluices the market-place and scatters wide The weak as foam, to perish where they list. Now by the sovereign Silence purified Spring showers all with fragrant amethyst. Were once these pulses violent and swift As those that shake the cities of to-day? How indolently sweet the petals drift From yonder nodding spray! [35] IN DEEP PLACES IN THE ROMAN FORUM (continued) Warming their broidered raiment in the sun The little bright-eyed lizards bask and run O'er fallen temples gracious in decay. Man's arrogance with calculated art Boasted in marble — now the quiet heart Of the Great Mother dreams eternal things In brief bright roses and ethereal green, Or more exuberant, sings In poppies poured profusely to the air From secret hoards of scarlet. Nothing seen But swoons with beauty — beauty every- where — Nothing but beauty . . . now. Here is the immortality of Rome. Not where the city rises, dome on dome. Seek we the living soul of ancient might, But in this temple of green silence — here Flame purer than the vestal is alight. The world again draws near In reverence, but now it comes to pay The tribute of a nobler coin than fear. In wondering worship, not in fierce dismay, [36] IN DEEP PLACES IN THE ROMAN FORUM (continued) Men bow the knee to what of Rome re- mains. Time's long lustration has effaced her stains. All that is perishable now is past And earth her portion tenderly transmutes To evanescent beauty of her own, Jubilant flowers and nectar-breathing fruits, Leaving in deathless glory at the last Divinity alone. [37] IN DEEP PLACES PERUGIA TT^OR the sake of a weathered gray city set high on a hill To the northward I go, Where Umbria's valley lies mile upon emer- ald mile Outspread like a chart. The wind in her steep narrow streets is eter- nally chill From the neighbouring snow, But linger who will in the lure of a southerly smile, Here is my heart. TXTROUGHT to a mutual blueness are moun- ^ tains and sky ; Intermingling they meet. Little gray breathings of olive arise from the plain Like sighs that are seen. IN DEEP PLACES PERUGIA (continued) For man and his maker harmonious toil, and the sigh Of such labour is sweet, And the fruits of their patience are vistas of vineyards and grain In a glory of green. N O wind from the valley that passes the casement but flings Invisible flowers. The carol of birds is a gossamer tissue of gold On a background of bells. Sweetest of all in the silence the nightingale sings Through the silver-pure hours, Till the stars disappear like a dream that may never be told, That the dawning dispels. [39] IN DEEP PLACES PERUGIA (continued) "^TEVER so darkling an alley but opens at last On unlimited space, Each gate is the frame of a vision that stretches away To the rims of the sky. Never a scar that was left by the pitiless past But has taken a grace Like the mark of a smile that was turned upon children at play In a summer gone by. M ANY the tyrants, my city, that held thee in thrall. What remains of them now? Names whispered back from the dark through a portal ajar — They come not again. By men thou wert made and wert marred, but outlasting them all Is the soul that is thou — A soul that shall speak to my soul till I too pass afar. And perchance, even then. [4^] IN DEEP PLACES IN BOZEN OF A SUNDAY TN Bozen of a Sunday, the air is gay with chim- ing; In the valley full of belfries, every clapper is aswing ; Bell-song and bird-song, each with each is rhyming In Bozen of a Sunday, when the hills are glad with Spring. TN Bozen of a Sunday, between the walls of roses That border merry Talfer with many-coloured sweet. Children are gayer and sweeter than the posies. And they drown the river's chatter with the patter of their feet. [41] IN DEEP PLACES IN" BOZEN OF A SUNDAY (continued) nr^HE boys and girls go walking, when Ro- sengarten's flushing. Her eyes are on the mountain-peaks, but little does he care For blush of the hills, when he sees his sweetheart blushing, Or for sunset on the snows, when he can see it on her hair. 'TpHE little feet, play- weary, stumble home- •*• ward all around them, For a chill steals down the valley as the gold to silver gleams. Shy cling their hands, as a touch unseen had bound them. And his eyes are full of tenderness, and hers are full of dreams — In Bozen of a Sunday, when the hills are glad with Spring. [42] IN DEEP PLACES o ANNE HATHAWAY'S GARDEN N such a day of quiet rain When all the air was gray and sweet With unseen flowers, and Spring's dear pain Of longing in her pulses beat 'HE may have stood with arms outspread Among the box-trees dripping spice, And listened for his coming tread As for the harps of Paradise. w E sigh for him whom God's red spur Drove glorious up the heights of tears,- But in the valley, what of her. And her long aching outgrown years? [43] IN DEEP PLACES H THE HEART OF VENICE ERE is no song that comes unsought Bom of a mood a breath may chill. By labour was this beauty wrought. Not God himself by sovereign will Could shape this wonder like a hill Or bid it rise like moon and sun. Only through man such works are done. N EED was that men should greatly do And greatly die, ere this could be. The blood of glory pulses through This golden-grounded imagery. The very bosom of the sea Has moulded to its ample grace The pavement of this holy place, [44] IN DEEP PLACES THE HEART OF VENICE (continued) A S might a goddess deign to wear The garment by her priesthood made. The opulent shadows tame the air That softly moves as if it prayed Among the lives of men, portrayed So truly, that to-day we cry — " That is my brother — that is I." 'ET not immortal — is it true Such loveliness can disappear? Some day will see a richer blue Upon the sea, and through the clear And sunlit waters, glimpses dear Of beauty won at such a cost It never can be wholly lost. npHE deep that gave will take again — ^ But this bright memory will awake Ambition in the hearts of men To build new beauty for the sake Of what has vanished, and to make Sublimer temples of the sea. If this were immortality? [45] IN DEEP PLACES QUEEN MARY AT FOTHERINGAY W HAT have I gained who gave so much? A crown too slippery for my clutch — A body misused and a heart abused. What have I gained for all I spent? Many a dead man's curse to rue, Many a lover and not one true, Many a bribe, though not my due — Yet I have lived, and am content. 'AY that I squandered life — confessed. Had I been miser of my best, To-day I would be in penury Even as now, a fool betrayed. The crown of stars and the nether flame Both have I proved in the teeth of blame. Have not the years in pride and shame Given the worth of all I paid? [46] IN DEEP PLACES QUEEN MARY AT FOTHERINGAY (cont.) ^TpHE course I chose was the course I kept; -■■ In the face of doom like a flame I leapt. Bitter and sweet have I known complete — One adventure is left to try. Life I have finished, mire to throne — Here at life's end I stand alone. Headsman, warder of worlds unknown, Show me now what it means to die ! [47] IN DEEP PLACES LUDWIG OF BAVARIA T HAVE been set so high above mankind That all alone am I. Above me broods, ruthlessly dumb and blind. The riddle of the sky — The casket of the Undiscovered Light Whose vision makes divine, Hidden from lesser men's ignoble sight But destined to be mine. For I have risen to the final snow In solitude complete, And trodden all men live and die to know Under my mounting feet. Alone, alone I seek with soul afire The sacrament supreme. What anodyne has earth for my desire Who famish for a dream? Music is mine, and solitary splendour, White, sky-encroaching peaks — But oh, the call intolerably tender IN DEEP PLACES LUDWIG OF BAVARIA (continued) From lips no mortal seeks, In lands the boldest wanderer never char- ted, Whose pinnacles of stone Inviolate, whose valleys virgin-hearted Open to me alone! But I am weary, for the time is long; Why does the dawn delay? Weary of even lightning-leaps of song, Weary of night and day. For voices call me, call me from my sleep So that I rest no more. Like ripples from an undiscovered deep Upon a lonely shore. Bloom speedily for me. Immortal Rose, My being to fulfil! Haste — for the silent skies above me close Darker . . . and darker still. . . . [49] IN DEEP PLACES H A LYNMOUTH WIDOW E was straight and strong, and his eyes were blue As the summer meeting of sky and sea, And the ruddy cliffs had a colder hue Than flushed his cheek when he married me. VIT'E passed the porch where the swallows ^^ breed. We left the little brown church behind, And I leaned on his arm, though I had no need, Only to feel him so strong and kind. /^NE thing I never can quite forget; ^^^ It grips my throat when I try to pray — The keen salt smell of a drying net That hung on the churchyard wall that day. [7^1 IN DEEP PLACES A LYNMOUTH WIDOW (continued) TTE would have taken a long, long grave — A long, long grave, for he stood so tall • . . Oh God ! the crash of a breaking wave, And the smell of the nets on the churchyard wall! [51] IN" DEEP PLACES I THE LOVE OF WOMAN F he should come to me to-day In the strong beauty of his youth, Profuse of hope and rich in truth, — If he should come to me and say : " Give me your love ! Of womankind " On you and you alone I call ! " I could but answer, " Dear and blind, " What more is left for my bestowing? " Without your asking or your knowing "Have I not given all? " A ND should he come to me some day When withered listless leaves are blown. Where I had waited long alone ; If he should come to me and say : " Give me your love for charity; " My dreams are squandered ever3nvhere. ** My famished hopes fall dead from me " Like the dull harvest of the air. [52] IN DEEP PLACES THE LOVE OF WOMAN (continued) " I seek no longer joy, but rest — " Brief peace upon a kindly breast " Till my tired heart is quiet clay." I could but say, " Love, while you live, " My love is neither mine to give ** Nor mine to take away." [53] IN DEEP PLACES I A WISH WOULD that we had won of love More than the little coin thereof. And all the rest had flung away The gain supreme to keep ; I would that we might understand All that in Eden God first planned, Ere ever men had learned to slay Or women learned to weep. But ah, that visions cannot last — That perfect moments fade so fast, And men to pettiness return Who spoke with God erstwhile! I would that we lay side by side And that the curious moonbeams pried In vain at our closed lids to learn The secret of our smile. [54] IN DEEP PLACES AN IDLE SONG T?REE living, free giving, may scarce be un- done. What magic recaptures the rays of the sun? They are fled, they are sped to the eyeHds of men, And the Hght that is given, none taketh again. Sap springing, lark singing, and young hearts afire With the tender green flame of an April de- sire. It may die, it may lie like brown reeds in the fen. But the love that is given, none taketh again. [55] IN DEEP PLACES w AMORINO AS it a mere caprice of mateless passion? So kind a memory that could never claim ; Our little love, in quaintly childish fashion, Was not unworthy of the nobler name. Not the high god who touches the here- after. Bearing within ^* bosom life and death, But a slim str: ig Eros, winged with laughter, Globing bright bubble-moments with warm breath. T>EFORE the august gaze of mighty blisses •^^ That since have stooped to glorify our clay, All unabashed, he juggles our past kisses, And with a smile we watch him at his play. He never masked in majesty forbidden, ~ [56] IN DEEP PLACES AMORINO (continued) Nor filched the due of greater gods than he ; Wherefore he keeps, in gentle mirth unchid- den, His little share of immortality. [57] IN DEEP PLACES w SURPRISES HEN through the shadow thou shalt see Death smile And greet him as the sleepless greet the light, When thou shalt close thine eyes a little while To open them in perfectness of sight, Must not thy quickened spirit shrink for shame When touched by near Omniscience to con- fess How many blots of unexpected blame Sully thy life's apparent nobleness? But with the evil shall be manifest Unconscious virtue that from thee hath sprung; Good unpremeditated and unguessed, Rich harvest of a seed at random flung. That hour of vision shall to thee disclose My love for thee, a wild heart's thornless rose. [58] " IN DEEP PLACES IN DEEP PLACES T LOVE thee, dear, and knowing mine own •*■ heart With every beat I give God thanks for this ; I love thee only for the self thou art ; No wild embrace, no wisdom-shaking kiss, No passionate pleading of a heart laid bare, No urgent cry of love's extremity — Strong traps to take the spirit unaware — Not one of these I ever had of thee. Neither of passion nor of pity wrought Is this, the love to which at last I yield, But shapen in the stillness of my thought And by a birth of agony revealed. Here is a thing to live while we do live Which honours thee to take and me to give. [59] IN DEEP PLACES HIS SONG FOR HER WAKING T T IS dawn in the sky of the world, *Tis dawn in the sky of my heart, And earth is the bud of a rose Whose petals are trembling apart; So I come to your door in the dawn And I breathe you my life in a word. You would smile, you would lean from your window, my Queen, If you heard — if you heard. HE earth is all throbbing with fire And I am a pulse of the flame ; All breathless the universe beats Like a heart that is tuned to your name. As the stars in their courses last night Kept time to each breath that you drew. But our passion is dumb — oh, my love, you would come If you knew — if you knew — [6^] IN DEEP PLACES HIS SONG FOR HER WAKING (continued) V/'OU would glow in the flush of the dawn You glitter so coldly above. You would lean like a rose to his cry Who yearns to the lips of your love. You would raise him who faints at your feet To a height that his hope never dared. You would warm the poor clod in your arms to a god — If you cared — if you cared. [6i] IN DEEP PLACES THE NARROW WAY A T sunset the young monk leaned from the ^^ wall To greet the fisher girl who passed below. She answered gay " Good even " to his call, But then he sighed, ** Sunset or sunrise glow " Are both alike to me ; ah, what of good " For one so sad, holds either night or day? " " 'Tis twilight in the shadow of your hood — " Go pray, Father — go pray! " 44 IITY soul is famished for the simple joys " Free to mankind — why not, alas, to me? "The throbbing outer world's insistent noise " Allures me like a magic melody. "With wistfulness that warms to some- thing fonder [6^1 IN DEEP PLACES THE NARROW WAY (continued) " I hear the village children at their play." " Their clamour could not reach the chapel yonder — " Go pray. Father — go pray." *'\7'OU are so sweet — Madonna's eyes are ^ cold — *' Madonna's lips have never learned your grace. "Ah, smile again that I may grow more bold! "Why, hand in hand, should we not flee this place " Of gnawing discontent and barren sor- row? " '* Nay, Father, that's a deadly sin, they say — *' Beside. . . . Uguccio takes me home to- morrow! " Go pray. Father — go pray*' [63] IN DEEP PLACES THE END OF IT ^T^HE earth weighs down my lids — they for- get the feeling of tears ; The heavy clods on my heart numb it to pleasure and pain, And my blood shall freeze or flame to your mood as in bygone years Never again, Beloved — never again. T STROVE to see as you saw, I strove to hear as you heard, I strove to stride with your strength, catch- ing my labouring breath. And never you slackened your speed to toss me a heartening word — Weary to death. Beloved — weary to death. [64] IN DEEP PLACES THE END OF IT (continued) TF you called in the name of our love, I would •*• not open mine eyes ; If you called in the name of my sorrow, no sigh would stir in my breast; If you called me with God's own voice, I would answer not nor arise, Now that I rest, Beloved — now that I rest. [65] IN DEEP PLACES N A MIRACLE EITHER in passion nor in play, But dreamily, half unaware, We kissed as drowsy children may, Sliding to sleep from evening prayer. So brief, so calm, the passing touch That meant so little — and so much. ^OR memory sees the wondrous thing The moment stood too near to know. The fragile innocence of spring I thought had faded long ago, Our quiet lips found blossoming yet Like an October violet. [66] IN DEEP PLACES w THE TOYS' COMPLAINT E sheltered women, love-enwrapt, Whose every wish is gratified, From all adversity close lapt In tenderness and kindly pride — We from whose path you put aside The possibility of care. We women shielded and supplied — What burdens can we have to bear? CMILING as at a child's demands You fill these idle days of ours; You give us roses for our hands And songs to sing among our flowers. We twine you garlands of delight — You only ask to find us fair When weary you come home at night. Is not our burden light to bear? [67] IN DEEP PLACES THE TOYS* COMPLAINT (continued) w E are the garden of your ease, And if we bloom, you are content. It would but rob you of your peace If to your loads our shoulders bent — But ah, to see you sad and spent! To know the pain we may not share ! Pity us, Masters, and relent — This burden is too great to bear. [68] IN DEEP PLACES o THE FORFEIT NLY for this, dear heart, only for this Do I regret The hour earth fell away, and left our kiss A passionate star where soul and body met. Only for this, dear heart, only for this Would I — if it were possible — forget. For this — that I can never see your eyes Without remembering their transfigured light That shone upon me then As Love drew near and took us by surprise. That I can never give to you again The quiet-pulsing touch of friendship only, For memory of your touch that summer night. I know that you are weary, bruised and lonely. Craving a comrade's tranquil tenderness — But since to give you more I have no right, — _ IN DEEP PLACES THE FORFEIT (continued) I needs must give you less. Is this the inevitable tax of pain Because our love was fettered to a lie — That I must see you look to me in vain And never tell you why? Once, only once, if I might bring to you The comfortable balm for which you plead! Once, only once, if I might be and do All that you need ! But slowly, surely, like a wall of stone, Our parted lives more hopelessly to sever, Rises this barrier — to be overthrown Never. Only for this, dear heart — only for this Do I regret. . . . [70] IN DEEP PLACES I WAS TOO PROUD T WAS too proud to hazard all, Too prudent and too wise. I would not speak till I could see Surrender in her eyes. So patiently I held my peace And waited for the sign. I heard that she was dead, to-day — She whispered at the end, they say, God's name . . . and mine. [71] IN DEEP PLACES TO A PRESSED ROSE T OVELY faded rose! "^ Had but my fortune beckoned me that way Among the silver stirrings of the day That Nature for your blossom-triumph chose ! Had I but seen your maiden leaves unfold From your immaculate heart of fragrant gold! I was not there ; another passed — who knows How many others, lovely faded rose? And yet, had it been I Who came between your crimson and the sky, You would have been a rose among the rest — A beauty-breathing joy upon my breast, And then — a rain of petals by the way. IN DEEP PLACES TO A PRESSED ROSE (continued) My thanks to God or man, who chose to lay Your glowing over-sweet Within the cloistered calm of this retreat. I would not have you for my wearing — no. It had been easy to forget you, so. Now in my memory tenderly I close A lovely faded rose. [73] IN DEEP PLACES IN MEMORY OF A DUMB FRIEND CTRANGE that so small mortality should leave So large an emptiness! for as we grieve Your little life of seven happy years Ended for us, one who could understand Each subtle word, and answer hand with hand Had hardly taken greater toll of tears. V^ET why should we not mourn as for a friend ? That name was yours; if every man would spend His life as well, earth were not hard to save. Grant that God made your heart and brain but small. What more has an archangel than his all? And all God gave to you, to us you gave. [74] IN DEEP PLACES TO A CHILD T OVE me, till you learn to judge me, "*-^ With candid sweetness unreserved. Your growing reason must begrudge me The honour I have not deserved. But linger not to look beyond When once the kindly veil is torn, And spare a heart that still is fond The torment of your wondering scorn. [75] IN DEEP PLACES AUNT JANE A UNT JANE has little shiny feet And pretty buttons in each ear ; She has the nicest things to eat ! I like to come and visit here. She has a dog — his name is Roy ; He's great — we have a lot of fun. She hasn't any little boy And so she has to borrow one. l\/f Y cousin Roy is very plain — I think he never combs his hair. I like him better than Aunt Jane — She has the kind of clothes that tear. Roy never gets too tired to play — He's always jolly — anyway, I like him better . . . through the day. . . . But when he goes to sleep at night He doesn't care for me a bit. [76] IN DEEP PLACES AUNT JANE (continued) But I'm not scared without a light, Because Aunt Jane comes in to sit And hear my prayers, and tuck the spread Around my neck, and smooth my head, — And then I don't care how she's dressed, I know I love Aunt Jane the best. A UNT JANE, of course, is very old; She must be twenty-three or four. Nothing I do can make her scold, Not even when I bang the door. The other day it made me cry To think how soon Aunt Jane will die. [77] IN DEEP PLACES o LIE AWAKE SONGS FTEN when awake I lie Listening to the clocks go round Hours and hours, I wonder why My brother sleeps so sound. T HE city is so kind to me ; It stays awake for company — It never sleeps at all. Its lamps are always burning bright From when my mother says good-night Until the milkmen call. The street is always full of wheels, Horse-carriages and automobiles — The whole night long they pass, Carrying home to marble halls F78] IN DEEP PLACES LIE AWAKE SONGS (continued) Princesses that have been to balls In little shoes o£ glass. Then there's the dog across the way He must be dreaming of the day Or barking at a kitty — And people talking as they go . . . I often wonder do they know That I'm awake and like them so, Or is it just — the City? /^"^ OD has a house three streets away, ^^^ And every Sunday, rain or shine, My nurse goes there her prayers to say. She's told me of the candles fine That burning all night long they keep Because God never goes to sleep. Then there's a steeple full of bells; All through the dark the time it tells. I like to hear it in the night And think about those candles bright. I wonder if God stays awake [79] IN DEEP PLACES LIE AWAKE SONGS (continued) For kindness, like the furnace-man Who comes before it's day, to make Our house as pleasant as he can. I like to watch the sky grow blue And think perhaps the whole world through No one's awake but just us three, — God and the furnace-man and me. [80] IN DEEP PLACES H H A POET IS lips have been hallowed with flame; By pain they are pure to repeat The wonderful whispers of God That speak in the hush of his soul ; Yet if we would trace where he trod Toward the glorious lure of his goal, In what bitter byways of shame Are the prints of his wandering feet! IS eyes have the light of the stars Whose secrets they search unafraid. For him the great mystery wakes To beauty whose vision is power ; But his face is disfigured with scars That warfare ignoble has made, And idly his carelessness breaks A heart like the stem of a flower. [8i] IN DEEP PLACES A POET (continued) A ND yet, to far valleys forlorn '^ ^ Where saints without aureole grope To garland the altars of light In a blindness of patience and prayer, Like the shout of a trumpet is borne The vision that flashed on his sight, And they hear in their twilight of hope, A triumph of dawn in the air. A LL are but parts of the Whole. He laboureth never in vain Who chose in marred vessels of clay To light the unquenchable spark. The seer who fell by the way — The steadfast, uncomforted soul — God, who gave birth to the twain. Is joining their hands in the dark. [82] IN DEEP PLACES A MINOR POET ^T^HE firefly, flickering about -■• In busy brightness, near and far Lets not his little lamp go out Because he cannot be a star. He only seeks, the hour he lives, Bravely his tiny part to play, And all his being freely gives To make a summer evening gay. [83] IN DEEP PLACES ONE OF MANY COME sing among the trumpets in the fray — ^ Such breathless glory hers might never be ; Her heart and voice were all too gentle-gray For such high psalmody. B UT she could croon a little child to sleep, And whisper in the twilight to a maid Who felt within her heart the springtime leap — Half-joyous, half-afraid. HE knew no ringing war-cry for the strong; Her voice no latent might to action charmed ; But silent rallied to her soothing song The fallen, the disarmed. [84] IN DEEP PLACES ONE OF MANY (continued) "^JOR rose nor laurel to her burial bring — Above her let the green sod simply close. Some day, from that forgotten mound may spring A laurel — or a rose. [85] IN DEEP PLACES WHOM THE GODS LOVE IVE me thy youth, give me thy urgent youth ; Thy youth to me, who know not youth nor age. For those who serve me I have little ruth; My flaying scourge shall be thine only wage, And yet I call thee from the easy way Knowing, despite thy fear, thou wilt obey. Give me thy youth. /'^IVE me thy heart, give me thy passionate ^^ heart; Thy heart to me, who know not love nor hate. Thy flesh may be a garment rent apart. Thy soul may shiver bare and desolate. But though the snug hearth beckon thy de- sire, Me thou shalt follow from the lesser fire. Give me thy heart. IN DEEP PLACES WHOM THE GODS LOVE (continued) /"^ I VE me thy life, no less — thy human life ; ^^ Thy life to me who know not death nor birth, And I will give thee hungering and strife, The empty praise and mockery of earth. And at the last I will give thee, even I, One boon supreme — the readiness to die. Give me thy life. [87] IN DEEP PLACES T THE GUEST HOU who tarriest at my gate, Pass along the sunny street. Do faces marred as mine is, wait With smiles a guest to greet? T OVE, who touched my lips with fire, Sadly smiling, granted me The fulness of my fool's desire — A scar for all to see. pASS — thou knowest I do not dare From my toil mine eyes to raise Lest I see thee standing there As in those other days. "D ALEFUL Guest, hast thou not wrought -^ All thy will of evil yet? Hast forgot thy scar, that naught Can soothe me to forget? fis] IN DEEP PLACES THE GUEST (continued) /^HILD, lay by thy bitterness — ^^ Evil would I work thee none Rather would I bid thee bless What cannot be undone. T^ YES grown soft with many a tear Are not hasty to be hard, And comfort speaks to shame and fear Through lips my fire hath scarred. D O not fear to lift thine eyes, Do not fear to ope thy door. Thou shalt know my Paradise Who knewest my Hell of yore. T IS the narrow hearts that break And in breaking stand confessed Happier so, if thus they make The Greater Love their guest. [89] IN DEEP PLACES THE VOICE OF THE UNBORN T?ROM the Unseen I come to you to-night, The Hope and Expectation of your world. I am Omniscience that seeks of you A tongue to utter the eternal thought. I am Omnipotence that claims of you The tools whereby my power may profit earth. All Love am I, that seeks to spend itself Embodied in a human sacrament, For I have heard the wailing of the world, Not faint and far away as in a dream, But very near — and lo, I understood It need not be. Wherefore I come to you. o YOU to whom my tenderness goes out. To whom I fain would bring an end of groans And blind, bewildered tears, a cloudless dawn [9^1 IN DEEP PLACES THE VOICE OF THE UNBORN (continued) Of unimagined joy and strength unguessed. What welcome will you give to me, O World? Since I whose dwelling is the universe Will stoop to walls and rafters for your sake, What is the home you have prepared for me? O Men and Women, is it beautiful, A place of peace, a house of harmony? Will you be glad, who know me as I am, To see me make my habitation there? Since I will hamper my divinity With weight of mortal raiment for your sake, What vesture have you woven for my wear? O Man and Woman who have fashioned it Together, is it fine and clean and strong. Made in such reverence of holy joy, Of such unsullied substance, that your hearts Leap with glad awe to see it clothing me, The glory of whose nakedness you know? [91] IN DEEP PLACES THE VOICE OF THE UNBORN (continued) /^H long long silence of the wakening years! ^^^ Thus have I called since man took shape as man; Thus will I call till all mankind shall heed And know me, who to-day am one with God, And whom to-morrow shall behold, your child. From the Unseen I come to you to-night. . . , [92] IN DEEP PLACES NEW LIFE QPRING comes laughing down the valley ^ All in white, from the snow Where the winter's armies rally Loth to go. Beauty white her garments shower On the world where they pass, — Hawthorn hedges, trees in flower, Daisies in the grass. Tremulous with longings dim. Thickets by the river's rim Have begun to dream of green. Every tree is loud with birds. Bourgeon, heart, — do thy part ! Raise a slender stalk of words From a root unseen. [93] IN DEEP PLACES THE STANDARD BEARER C WIFTLY the shrieking fire-bird gleams Before his blank, bewildered face. Close to his ear the bullet screams, The battle swirls about his place. o o NE thought alone stands clear to him Whose rigid arms the Standard keep, Before whose desperate eyes and dim The ranks reel by as seen in sleep, NE longing — in the orchard lane. Far from this blazing blare of death, To stand at twilight once again And draw one deep, untroubled breath. [94] IN DEEP PLACES THE DOUBLE CROWNING T A VISH roses carpeted the ways for him ; Noiseless beat his charger's feet, passing through the town. Lavish banners made the walls ablaze for him, Dancing like his young blue eyes beneath the golden crown. From every crowded alley there surged into the street A sweep of lifted faces, a wave of living foam. Silken sleeves of maidens caressed his ar- moured feet ; All the bells were shouting when the king came home. [95] IN DEEP PLACES THE DOUBLE CROWNING (continued) OILENT, smitten, gazed he o'er the press of *^ them Where upon the market-place the Crucified looked down. Silent, smiting, fell beyond the guess of them The shadow of the Crown of Thorns across the golden crown. Beyond the shimmering banners he saw the walls of stone, Below the trampled flowers the streets that had run red, And heavy fell upon him the burden of his throne — Amid the sheaves of gladness the harvest of the dead. [96] IN DEEP PLACES THE DOUBLE CROWNING (continued) "O UTHLESS ages took that hour their toll of -*^ him. All the joyous clamour of his people could not drown Ruthless ages crying to the soul of him, " Evermore the Crown of Thorns beneath the golden crown ! " The heedless merry city, that trod its blos- somed floor, The rainbow of the banners, the drunken bells aswing. The brave blue eyes whose boyhood was gone forevermore, The shouting of the people — the silence of the king! [97] IN DEEP PLACES BEAUTY r>LESSED be Beauty, that awaits Our vision at our very gates ! There hangs above these meadows low As richly strange an opal glow As deepens into violet Behind a Moorish minaret, Or where the Sphinx outstares the years. The little hills of Ramapo Smile eastward full as goldenly When fades the last supplanted star As mighty mountains, rising far Beyond the leagues of sapphire sea That cradle white Algiers. B LESSED be God who gave to me A thankful heart and eyes that see, Who set my feet in quiet ways Amid his garden sweet with praise. And yet — oh Father ! what of them IN DEEP PLACES BEAUTY (continued) Who may not even touch the hem Of Beauty's robe — at the harsh urge Of hopeless pain and poverty Forever plying weary hands, Forever straining weary eyes, To whom the sun's ecstatic rise Means one day more of toil's demands The lifting of the scourge? A ND yet, once more — a Beauty lies Beyond the gaze of any eyes. Beyond the sunset islands far, Above the throbbing morning-star. And deeper than the sea is deep. I have beheld, as one in sleep Beholds a dream scarce understood, Two lives defaced as failures are. Ruins to pity and despise, Maimed butts of fortune, best forgot. These captives of the sordid lot Looked in each other's faded eyes And all their world was good. [99] IN DEEP PLACES THE SACRIFICE pALE lips that trembled under mine She brought to me. A love less human than divine They taught to me. But now too fixedly they smile, — Too ruddily — Set, like a vampire's, to beguile Men bloodily. T HOUGH time has graven on her brow No change to me, The eyes she turns upon me now Are strange to me. Ah, dear lost love, what fiend has caught The soul of you, That in our happy days I thought The whole of you? [lOO] IN DEEP PLACES THE SACRIFICE (continued) A LAS, 'twas I, to whom she gave -^^ Too royally. She loved me from my living grave Too loyally. Heedless of all that might befall, The cost to her Unreckoning, she gave me all That's lost to her. QHE bears the burden of the sin Once bound on me. She takes the rags to wrap her in She found on me. Thou God of Justice, I have lost The way to her. Take thou my life, and all it cost Repay to her ! [lOl] IN DEEP PLACES H H THE LAME CHILD E passed along our village street ; The fame of him had gone before And many ran on whispering feet To mock or wonder or appeal. I caught my child from where he lay And stood expectant at the door. Many the sick he healed that day, But mine he did not heal. E paused before us where we stood And looked into my boy's blue eyes Those eyes of tortured babyhood Questioning life with hurt surprise. It would have taken but a word To make the future sweet and clear — Many the prayers that day he heard, But mine he did not hear. [102] IN DEEP PLACES THE LAME CHILD (continued) Y ET this he did — his head he bent And kissed my child upon the cheek. He turned upon me, as he went, Eyes that were wonderful with tears. Silent I shrank before the deeps Of mysteries too great to speak — But oh, my patient son who creeps Along his crippled years! [103] IN DEEP PLACES M A GYPSY-HEART Y grandsire was a vagabond Who made the Road his bride. He left his son a wanderer's heart And little enough beside ; And all his life my father heard The fluting of a hidden bird That lured him on from hedge to hedge To walk the world so wide. ND now he Vv^alks the worlds beyond And drifts on hidden seas Undesecrated by a chart — Blithe derelict at ease. And sometimes when I halt at night, In answer to my campfire's light His own uplifts a glowing wedge Among the Pleiades. [104] IN DEEP PLACES GYPSY-HEART (continued) w OMEN are fair but all too fond ; Home holds a man too fast. I'll choose for mine a freeman's part And sing as I go past. No lighted windows beckon me. The open sky my canopy. I'll camp upon Creation's edge, A wanderer to the last. [105] IN DEEP PLACES THE VAGABOND GROWN OLD QO warm the lighted windows glow *^ Across the darkness and the snow — The trodden road, the sodden road, The road wherein I chose to go. nr^HE winter skies are steely gray — The winter stars are far away. Light were my feet when winds were sweet, But bitter going's mine to-day. '\7'ET as I trudge, I needs must sing, '■■ For be he vagabond or king, A man must choose what he will lose — And I have known the road in spring. [io6] IN DEEP PLACES CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT "DLAME us not, ah, blame us not, ye folk who love the sun, Whose longings haunt the fields at noon, the ingleside at night; For we are of another blood and feel our pulses run As run the tides to meet the moon and leap beneath her light. w E sit beside your hearth-stones with our faces to the fire. But our hearts within are straitened — (do ye ever understand?) For we long to turn away — yet dare not yield to the desire — Where the moonlight at the window beck- ons, beckons like a hand. [107] IN DEEP PLACES CHILDREN OF THE NIGHT (continued) 'TpHE household phrases come to us as in a tongue unknown. We gaze at you unseeing, for our thoughts are far away Like scattered flakes of star-dust on the fly- ing cloud-rack blown Beyond the placid vision of the children of the day. 13 LAME us not, ye quiet ones who crouch be- side the flame And rule it as ye rule your souls, with meas- ured, tranquil hand. Nay, but my words are idle. Give us neither praise nor blame. Only be blind forever, since ye cannot under- stand. [io8] IN DEEP PLACES THE LITTLE PEOPLE P>ECAUSE I dreamed with open eyes and watched the stars at night, Because I loved the forest and wandered there alone, The Little Faery People that mock at human might They set a spell upon me and chose me for their own. npHE Little People told me of a country strange and sweet — Builded with words of beauty I saw its tow- ers rise; But I knew my mother listened for the com- ing of my feet — In tears the vision darkened and vanished from mine eyes. [109] IN DEEP PLACES THE LITTLE PEOPLE (continued) npHE Little People bade me choose — to cast with them my lot, Or nevermore to see them for mine own kin- dred's sake. Their deep eyes yearned upon me, but I could heed them not. My people were my people — what choice was mine to make? TVTY people are my people and dear they are ^ -*■ to me; Yet sometimes comes a longing till I hardly dare to pray. For that far land of wonder that I shall never see And for the Little People from whom I turned away. [no] IN DEEP PLACES H T HERE STOOD A HOUSE ERE stood a house ; we now can only guess From what scant lore the bare foundation yields The building's fashion, whose calm comeli- ness Complacent looked across the fruitful fields, This was a home — now fire has laughed and fled Leaving a wreck instead. HIS was a home for human comfort raised — Now the shy creatures of the air and grass Nest in the blackened pit and start amazed If any human foot too near them pass. Merciless tranquil Nature takes again The land she lent to men. [Ill] IN DEEP PLACES HERE STOOD A HOUSE (continued) B UT pity not this house, for while it stood Its walls were warm with comfort and en- shrined Glad hearts that savoured life and found it good. It was a temple of the quiet mind. Its very altar*s consecrated glow Has wrought its overthrow. TTERE was no shameful torture of decay; The vivid end with sudden glory came. In terrible beauty all was swept away, Man's dearest art translated into flame. So swift and shining may thy coming be, Enlightening Death, to me. [112] IN DEEP PLACES THE CRICKET IN THE PATH CHE passed through the shadowy garden, so tall and so white, Her eyes on the stars and her face like an an- gel's upturned, And it seemed to my thought that the dusk round her head with the light Of an aureole burned. OUT where she had trodden unseeing, I found on the path A cricket, so frail that her light foot had maimed it, yet strong To valiantly pipe, tiny hero, a faint aftermath Of its yesterday song. [113] IN DEEP PLACES THE CRICKET IN THE PATH (continued) A ND I whispered, " Alas, Little Brother, why '^^ must it befall That the passing of angels but cripples and leaves us to die? Poor imp of the greensward, God trumpets me clear in thy call ; Thou art braver than I. *'npHE Bright Ones of Heaven have trodden me down as they passed; I crawl in their footsteps a trampled and impotent thing. I know not the reason, nor question hence- forth. To the last, While I live, I will sing." [114] IN DEEP PLACES H THREE WOMEN FIAMMETTA ER speech like a tame serpent hisses; She glows like a flower of the south ; The bruises of yesterday's kisses Are purple to-day on her mouth. Time bears from her beauty no plunder Nor kindles a soul in her eyes ; And to-morrow — what is there, I wonder, To live when she dies? [115] IN DEEP PLACES THREE WOMEN (continued) SYLVIA TN the twilight was her birth Of a passion and a prayer; Half of heaven, half of earth. Kin to wildlings of the air. Finely tuned to joy and pain, At a breath her mind will stir; Love may hurt his hands in vain At the doorless heart of her. Like an opal, fair with flaws, Rarely blessed, darkly cursed. She was made in scorn of laws. Not quite human from the first. [ii6] IN DEEP PLACES "f HREE WOMEN (continued) CISTER is she to woodlands deep And quiet-bosomed noonday skies; To calm, encircling leagues of sea Unfathomed in serenity. Not over-quick to laugh or weep Are the clear candours of her eyes. The still, unboasting strength is hers • That stays the immemorial hills. Comfort and cheer her presence lays Like footprints all along her ways; The simplest of Love's ministers. Unconscious what a place she fills. [117] IN DEEP PLACES o A A THE CHILD IN BLACK UT in the street the children play; They shout and laugh till I come by, Then they are still and go away — I wonder why. ND grown-up people's faces too — Until they see me, they are glad. I wonder what it is I do That turns them sad. ND father — when he looks at me He is sad too, and though he tries To wink them back, I always see Tears in his eyes. N OBODY looks at me the same Since mother went to Heaven to stay. Do they think I am to blame For sending her away? IN DEEP PLACES I ON A HILL-TOP ^TEEP the ascent to which we laughing bent; ) Slowly we left the weary slope behind. Now hand in hand upon the crest we stand Amid the shouting welcome of the wind. TOO rejoice with its exultant voice That we upon this hill-top once have stood Before we die, together, you and I, To see our world and know that it is good. T O find the worth of this perplexing earth Which yet is of our heaven the only gate ; Where life must be ere immortality Can its transfiguration consummate. [119] IN DEEP PLACES ON A HILL-TOP (continued) T HE test we need ere spirit may succeed To perfect power and unimagined scope — Where dreams untried must ever dreams abide And hopeless is the unattempted hope. w H E who have caught the substance of our thought May smile triumphant though our path- ways part. You of my best forever stand possessed, And greater for your greatness is my heart. ENCE we shall turn more eager to discern The hid Shekinah of our neighbour's soul, Stronger to dare our brief blind part to bear In the slow silent growth of God's great Whole. [120] IN DEEP PLACES ON A HILL-TOP (continued) A WORD, the flower of this uplifted hour Shall turn the chill of time and space to mirth ; A deed that springs from these forgotten things Shall link us yet across the breadth of earth — OHALL link us yet, although we may forget. Our thoughts may pass, our inmost selves endure. Yea, life and death may come and go like breath — Wrought in our souls, this moment lives se- cure. [121] IN DEEP PLACES DAWN /^REEN bud of davm ^"'^ That shyly in the east now dost unfold The glowing garments of thy heart of gold, I look to thee across the shadowy lawn Hoary with dew. Purged by clean slumber as a soul by death I lift my brow to meet thy blessed breath. All hail, thou messenger of Him who saith, " Lo, I make all things new." T HE early breeze Quickens to sudden whispering all the trees ; The orchard yeomen in their sturdy ranks, The slender cedars halted on the flanks Of every hill, the copse's quivering green — Even the height serene Of the old hemlocks is a moment stirred As if among their aged boughs they heard [122] IN DEEP PLACES DAWN (continued) The magic murmur of that master-word Thou daily speakst man's weariness to cheer, O Dawn — would man but hear. A SIGN from Heaven long ago men sought, And he to whom their questionings were brought Marvelled in sadness ; how should even he Give signs to them who had no eyes to see? Dear God, how blindly do thy children trace This marvellous earth-manuscript of thine! Weary of study, we are baffled yet By the great lessons for our learning set, And clamour eagerly with lifted face To Heaven for a sign. 'TpHERE shall no sign be given, For we are hedged with portents undi- vined. God waits until the fetters of the mind At last be riven. And as we grope [123] IN DEEP PLACES DAWN (continued) Amid the growing glory, we behold The Dawn's recurrent miracle unfold The heavenly word for hope. The clouds of yesterday, Although they smother all the blue, avail No whit the mounting of the sun to stay, ' Who like a strong young king in golden mail Leaps up behind the gray. Earth, air, and sea may rage in mortal strife But calmly certain, over death and life Rises the still, unconquerable Day. And so shall Man arise From sullen-clotted clouds of past mistake, Sorrow and disappointment, and awake With some indomitable dawn, to break The seal of Paradise. [124] IN DEEP PLACES T THE HERO HEY asked him for his story, when he came Battered and glorious from the floating hell Where he had wrung his victory from death. But he, the hero, had no tale to tell — Simply he gave them answer, with a smile That made them flinch and take a quicker breath — " I only know we worked in sweat and flame " And it was well worth while." 'O you shall stand some day, amazed and faint Among the wondering angels, file on file Of beautiful bright faces, all ablaze With your achievement, vivid with your praise, Asking of you, their bleeding warrior-saint. Your own triumphant tale of battle won. IN DEEP PLACES THE HERO (continued) And you, who knew not all that you had done, Shall gaze bewildered on them, reeling yet From those long years of mortal weariness. No hope of this upheld you in the stress — You only knew you wrought in blood and sweat, And it was well worth while. [126] IN DEEP PLACES IMMORTAL OECAUSE your hand Grew tired and laid the busy brush aside ; Because your weary eyes forewent their sight, Shall none of all the pictures you had planned Take form and colour for the world's de- light— Because you died? ^T^HE hope that kept Through patient years of uncon- genial toil Your spirit's lamp sustained with sacred oil, The dream and the desire that never slept — Did all the wonder-world that was your art Stop with your heart? [127] IN DEEP PLACES IMMORTAL (continued) A TIME so brief '^ ^ After your long probation, to de- clare Your hoarded visions — strangely hard it seems ! Is even God so rich beyond belief That he from his eternity could spare Your waiting dreams? TTE does not waste. -*■-■• A thought once born, forevermore must live. Bountiful spirit, that so loved to give, With what a high delight you now dispense In glorious largess, without stint or haste, Your opulence! [128] IN DEEP PLACES IMMORTAL (continued) T SEE you guide The hand of some young painter to reveal The truth you lived so many years to feel, Your joy in his achievement doubly deep. Your joy . . . ah, how have we the heart to weep Because you died? [ 129] IN DEEP PLACES H TO WALTER SCOTT MELROSE OW often has he Hngered here alone In such a golden evensong of spring, Making the eye-sweet melody of stone More lovely by his words' accompanying — Singing for very youth of heart, compelled By the keen urge of beauty, even as now Tweed sings along the valley, April-swelled, While the green slopes flush slowly to the plow. [130] IN DEEP PLACES T ABBOTSFORD HIS dream come true in quaintly towered stone, This palace of desire's accomplishment, Here in his thought already had he known A sunset calm of richly earned content. When a harsh clarion summoned him to fight In sordid lists, to purge another's shame. Harp-hearted, he rang true, and proved him knight Of that high chivalry who reck not fame, Being content to stand with shield unstained Before God's face. Crown with a nation's meed The Bard — but here, where patient and constrained He toiled, when he had hoped to soar in- deed. Humbled, be still. His victory is gained And of earth's wordy praise there is no need. [131] IN DEEP PLACES H DRYBURGH ERE lies his battered armour, hacked and scarred By the long conflict. Look, what fitter place To hold the garb so honourably marred! Green house of sleep, from which the years efface One after one, man's futile traceries, As one by one frail children of the pen Faint slowly to forgotten silences. Naught is immortal but the God in men. [132] ^