IP ibEFmiTivilj u' ;! iiiiiiiiii IlISS CAR! hntt ilII CONTAINING ..^^'J^j^^ PROMTHE BOOK OF MYTHS, i^ROM THE GREEN BOOK OFi THE BARDS, SO^NpSOFTHE |EAGHILDREi!%ONGSj^ liROM A NORTHERN GARDEN, FfiOMTl V' ^, i> '> ^\\ V> S^ -"'fj' \ t 'A -f. . \ ^ 9 ^ » '^- 'w' .' o ':^. ^' .^^' >^ .0- •x-^ "^^-t^' ^ # -. .A^^- o\ -;^-^ A^^' .-^ v\^ ^^ J- V -n/- v^ • 0- '/- % /";- , ..v'^^' -^.> : ;> ^'^. ,\ O ^/ , A '/' ' > , o. ^ -^ - y s ^ •>- V . . o^ ri' x^^ ^-^ ) '• ^^ >^-' ?/. -8 ^'^ \^ . ■: ^ , c- \ ^ '■ <-'^ .aX^ ■J- ,^v ^. O^ % "- % ■^^" \ >o- ^ ,0-' '-o cP-. ^^. v*^ N^^- .'■■ n H \ • ^^"^ .^- o"^ -r. ^^. .'\ >o xO^.. «. o. ■ ,> ^ .0• '^/^ -^. .'J^'-^ X' A^ 'f'^ '■^^ ,^^' V s^^ f^H ,-0- , ^^ ^^. .^ c o^- --A "^ " ^ ' ■^^ V -^ ^ <^- *^. '^- ,c^^ ^ ' V is o -r- •^, .^" // ^ '>. s " ,c, V^^ * ^ « .^^'^ ■o- .0 c .\ "■v \ I « V ^oo .\ .-^'c^'''' ^-^ ,^-' o .X\- ^ .n;-' c^. % ^^'- PREFACE that's no such easy matter in a difficult world, I can tell you. 'Tis wine that gives a man courage and romance, and puts heart in him for deeds and ad- ventures and all manner of plain wholesome love. And that, after all, is the mainspring with most men, hide it how they may. For what ever was done, that was worth doing, and was not done for a woman or for the sake of a friend, I should like to know ? " ** Maybe I hadn't thought of that," says the stranger. ** You must have tasted some rare wine in your time." ** Not so much," says the other, **but I was born with a shrewd taste for it, you may say. Moreover 1 came of a people who were far farers in their day, and have been abroad myself more than once. So it comes you find the foreign vintages in my bins. There's some Greek wine I have, sir, that's more than a century old, I'll wager ; and a rare Moon- wine, as they call it, picked up in an out-of-the-way port, that will make you forget your sorrow like a strain of music ; light wines from France, too ; and some Heather Brose, very old and magical, such as the little dark people used to make hereabout in the times IX PREFACE of the Celts long ago, — and very good times they were too. It is not these days that have all the wisdom ever was, you may be sure.'* **You are not such a bad advocate, after all," re- marks the stranger. "You speak very invitingly.'* ** Step inside," says the landlord. Bliss Carman. October lo, ig02. CONTENTS Page Preface , . vii Overlord i The Pipes of Pan 4 Marsyas 32 Syrinx 41 The Magic Flute » , 54 A Shepherd in Lesbos „ , 69 Daphne , 74 The Lost Dryad 79 The Dead Faun . . . , 83 Hylas 91 At Ph^dra's Tomb 94 A Young Pan's Prayer 100 The Tidings to Olaf iio The Prayer in the Rose Garden . . . 123 OVERLORD. TTvivfJba KVptOV CTT €/X€. Lord of the grass and hill, Lord of the rain, White Overlord of will. Master of pain, I who am dust and air Blown through the halls of death. Like a pale ghost of prayer, — I am thy breath. Lord of the blade and leat, Lord of the bloom, Sheer Overlord of grief. Master of doom. OVERLORD Lonely as wind or snow, Through the vague world and dim, Vagrant and glad I go ; I am thy whim. Lord of the storm and lull, Lord of the sea, I am thy broken gull, Blown far alee. Lord of the harvest dew. Lord of the dawn. Star of the paling blue Darkling and gone, Lost on the mountain height Where the first winds are stirred. Out of the wells of night I am thy word. OVERLORD Lord of the haunted hush, Where raptures throng, I am thy hermit thrush. Ending no song. Lord of the frost and cold. Lord of the North, When the red sun grows old And day goes forth, I shall put off this girth^- — ■ Go glad and free. Earth to my mother earth, Spirit to thee. THE PIPES OF PAN. This is something that I heard^ — Half a cry and half a word^ — On a magic day in fune^ In the ghostly azure noon^ Where the wind among the trees Made mysterious melodies^ Such as those which filled the earth When the elder gods had birth. Ah, the world is growing old ! Of the joys it used to hold, Love and beauty, naught have 1 But the fragrant memory. Once, ah, once, (ye know the story !) When the earth was in her glory. THE PIPES OF PAN Ere man gave his heart to breed Iron hate and heartless greed, Near a meadow by a stream Quiet as an ageless dream, As I watched from the green rim Of a beech grove cool and dim, Musing in the pleasant shade The soft leafy sunlight made. What should gleam and move and quiver Down by the clear, pebbly river. Where the tallest reeds were growing And the bluest iris blowing, — Gleam a moment and then pass, (Ah, the dare-to-love she was. In her summer-fervid dress Of sheer love and loveliness !) Wayward, melting, shy, and fond, Lissome as a bulrush wand. Fresh as meadowsweet new-blown. Sandal lost, and loosened zone, THE PIPES OF PAN Our own white Arcadian Touched with rose and creamy tan, Eyes the colour that might fleck The red meadow lily's neck. Hair with the soft silky curl Of some strayed patrician girl, Beech-brown on the sunlit throat, Cheek of tawny apricot. Parted lips and breast aglow, — Who but Syrinx, as ye know ! Gone, swift as a darting swallow, What could young Pan do but follow ? (Have ye felt the warm blood leap. When the soul awakes from sleep. At a glance from some dark eye Of a sudden passing by ? — Known the pulse's hurried throb And the breathing's catch and sob. When, upon his race with Death, 6 THE PIPES OF PAN Life the runner halts for breath, Taking with a happy cry His brief draught of ecstasy ?) Call I did, with only laughter Blown back, as I hurried after; Till I reached the riverside, Where I last had seen her glide In among the reeds, and there Lost her. But a breath of air Moved the grass-heads, going by. And I heard the rushes sigh. So the chase has always proved ; And Pan never yet has loved. But the loved one all too soon Merged in music and was gone, — Melted like a passing strain. Vanished like a gust of rain Or a footfall of the wind, Leaving not a trace behind. 7 THE PIPES OF PAN All that once was Pitys stirs In the soft voice of the firs. Lovers, when ye hear that sigh, Not without a prayer pass by ! And, O lovers, when ye hear, On a morning soft and clear, All that once was Echo still Wandering from hill to hill. Breathe a prayer lest ye too stray. Lost upon the mountain way. And go seeking all your lives Love, when but his ghost survives ! Then a swaying river reed From the water, for my need. In a dream I blindly drew. Cut and fashioned, ranged and blew,- Such a music as was played Never yet since earth was made. Shrilling, wild and dazed and thin, 8 THE PIPES OF PAN All my welling heart therein Trembled, till the piping grew Pure as fire and fine as dew, Till confusion was untangled From the crowding notes that jangled, And a new-created world To my wonder was unfurled, Sphere by sphere, as climbing sense Faltered at the imminence Of the fragile thing called soul Just beyond oblivion's goal, And creation's open door Bade me enter and explore. Slowly hill and stream and wood Merged and melted, for my mood, With the colour of the sun In the pipe I played upon. THE PIPES OF PAN Slowly anger from me fell, In the coil of that new spell My own music laid on me, — Like the great rote of the sea. Like the whisper of the stream. Like a wood bird's sudden gleam. Or the gusts that swoop and pass Through the ripe and seeding grass,- Perfect rhythm and colour cast In the perfect mould at last. Slowly I came back to poise, — A new self with other joys. Other raptures than before. Harming less and helping more. I could strive no more for gain ; Being was my true domain. And the smiling peace that ever In the end outruns endeavour. It was not enough to do ; lO THE PIPES OF PAN I must feel, but reason too, — Find the perfect form and fashion For the elemental passion ; Else must blemish still be hurled On the beauty of the world, — Gloom and clang and hate alloy Colour, melody, and joy. And the violence of error Fill the earth with sound and terror. So I felt the subtle change, Large, enduring, keen, and strange ; And on that day long ago I became the god ye know, Made by music out of man. Now ye have the pipes of Pan, Which ye call by Syrinx' name. Keeping bright a little fame Few folk ever think upon. Ah, but where is Syrinx gone ? II THE PIPES OF PAN As the mountain twilight stole Through the woods from bole to bole, A dumb warder setting free Every shy divinity^ I became aware of each Presence^ aspen, bass^ and beech ; And they all found voice and made A green music in the shade. Therefore, therefore, mortal man, When ye hear the pipes of Pan, Marvel not that they should hold Something sad and calm and old, Like an eerie minor strain Running through the strong refrain. All there is of human woe Pan has fathomed long ago ; All of sorrow, all of ill, Kindly Pan remembers still ; Disappointment, grief, disdain, 12 THE PIPES OF PAN Stifled impulse and bleak pain, — Pan has learned them ; Pan has known Hurts and passions of his own. Thus Pan knows the secret hid Under the Great Pyramid ; Why young lovers for their love Think the stars are light enough, And they very well may house In the odorous fir boughs, — Think there is no light of day With the loved one gone away, Use in life, nor pleasure more By the hearth or out of door, — - Since all things begin and end But to glad the little friend. And all gladness is forgot Where the little friend is not. THE PIPES OF PAN Thus Pan melts your human heart With the magic of his art. Yet, O heart-distracted man, When you hear the pipes of Pan, Marvel not that they should hold Something sure and strong and bold, Like a dominant refrain Heartening the minor strain. Come into the woods once more ; Leave the fire and close the door; Trust the spirit that has made Musical the light and shade, Still to guard you, still to guide you, Somewhere in the wood beside you. Pace for pace upon the road To your larger next abode. Though the world should lay a finger On your arm to bid you linger, Ye shall neither halt nor tarry 14 THE PIPES OF PAN (Little be the load ye carry !) When ye hear the pipes of Pan Shrill and pleading in the van. 'Tis the music that has freed you From the old life, and shall lead you, Gently wise and strongly fond, To the greater life beyond. Yet I whisper to you, " Stay ; That new life is here j to-day Is your home, whose roof shall rise From the ground before your eyes." For Pan loves you and is near. Though no music you should hear. Hearken, hearken ; it will grow, Spite of bitterness and woe, Clear and sweet and undistraught, (This old earth's impassioned thought,) And the sorry heart shall learn What no rapture could discern. 15 THE PIPES OF PAN All the music ye have heard : Mountain brook and orchard bird ; Fifers in the April swamp, Fiddlers leading August's pomp ; All the mellow flutes of June Melting on the mating tune; Pale tree cricket with his bell Ringing ceaselessly and well. Sounding silver to the brass Of his cousin in the grass ; Hot cicada clacking by. When the air is dusty dry ; Old man owl, with noiseless flight, Whoo-hoo-hooing in the night; Surf of ocean, sough of pine ; Note of warbler, sharp and fine ; Rising wind and falling rain, Lowing cattle on the plain; And that hardly noticed sound When the apples come to ground, i6 THE PIPES OF PAN On the long, still afternoons, In the shelter of the dunes ; Chir and guggle, bark and cry. Bleat, hum, twitter, coo and sigh, Mew and belling, hoot and bay. Clack and chirrup, croak and neigh, Whoof and cackle, whine and creak. Honk and chatter, caw and squeak ; Wolf and eagle, mink and moose. Each for his own joyous use Uttering the heart's desire As the season bade aspire ; Folk of meadow, crag, and dale. Open barren and deep swale, — Every diverse rhythm and time Brought to order, ranged in rhyme : All these bubbhng notes once ran Thrilling through the pipes of Pan. 17 THE PIPES OF PAN Think you Pan forgets the tune Learned beneath the slim new moon, When these throbbings all were blent To the dominant intent ? All the beauties ye have seen : Autumn scarlet, young spring green ; Floating mists that drift and follow Up the dark blue mountain hollow j Yellow sunlight, silver spray ; The wild creatures at their play ; Through still hours the floating seed Of the thistle and milkweed. And the purple asters snowed In a drift beside the road ; Swarthy fern by pebbly shoal ; Mossed and mottled beech-tree bole ; Fireflies in a dewy net, When the summer eves are wet ; All the bright, gay-coloured things THE PIPES OF PAN Buoyed in air on balanced wings ; All earth's wonder j then the sea In his lone immensity Only the great stars can share, And the life uncounted there, Where the coral gardens lie And the painted droves go by. In the water-light and gloom. Silent till the day of doom : These have lent, as beauty can, Colour to the pipes of Pan. Think you Pan forgets the key Of their primal melody, — Phrase and motive to revive Every drooping soul alive ? All the wilding rapture shared With the loved one, when ye dared (Lip to lip and knee to knee) 19 THE PIPES OF PAN Force the door of destiny, — Greatly loved and greatly gave, Too divine to stint or save; All the passion ye have poured For the joy of the adored, Spending without thought or measure Young delight and priceless treasure. Grown immortal in the hour When fresh manhood came in flower ; All the ecstasy unpent From sweet ardours finding vent In the coming on of spring, When the rainy uplands ring. And the misty woods unfold To the magic as of old ; All the hot, delicious swoon Of the teeming summer noon. When the year is brought to prime By the bees among the thyme. And each mortal heart made over 20 THE PIPES OF PAN By the wind among the clover : All these glad things ye shall find With a free and single mind, Dreaming eye and cheek of tan, Lurking in the pipes of Pan. So the forest wind went by^ — Half a word and half a sigh^ — On a magic night in fune,, When the wondrous silent moon Flooded the blue mountain clove^ And the stream in my beech grove Uttered secrets strange and deep^ Like one talking in his sleep. Would ye enter, maid and man, The novitiate of Pan ? Know the secret of the strain Lures you through the summer plain, Guess the meaning of the thrill 21 THE PIPES OF PAN Haunts you on the autumn hill ? Would ye too contrive a measure Out of love, to fill your leisure ? Learn to fashion a flute-reed That should answer to love's need, When the spirit in you cries To be given form and guise Others may perceive and love, Fair and much accounted of, — Craves to be the tenant heart In some wild, new, lovely art. Such as haunts the glades of spring When the woodlands bloom and ring ? While the silver night still broods On the mountain solitudes. And the great white planet still Is undimmed upon the hill, — Ere a hint of subtile change Steals across the purple range 32 THE PIPES OF PAN To arouse the sleeping bird, — Hear the wise old master's word, When he leads the pregnant notes From the reedy golden throats, And the traveller, in their spell. Halts, and wonders what they tell ! Here is Pan's green flower, the earth, He has tended without dearth. Brought to blossom, fruit, and seed By the sap's imperious need. When the season of the sun Sets its fervour free to run. Sap of tree and pith of man, Ah, but they are dear to Pan ! Not a creature stirs or moves. But Pan heartens and approves ; Not a being loves or dies, But Pan knows the sacrifice. Man or stripling, wife or maid, 23 THE PIPES OF PAN Pan is ever by to aid ; And no harm can come to you, But his great heart feels it, too. Love's use let the joiner prove By the fit of tongue and groove; Or the smith, whose forge's play Stubborn metal must obey ; Let the temple-builders own. As they mortise stone to stone ; Or the sailor, when he reeves Sheet and halliard through the sheaves ; Or the potter, from whose wheel Fair and finished shapes upsteal, As by magic of command. Guided by the loving hand. Ye behold in love the tether Binding the great world together; For without that coil of wonder 24 THE PIPES OF PAN The round world would fall asunder, And your hearts be filled with sadness At a great god's seeming madness, Where they now have peace, and hope. Somewhere, somehow, time will ope. And the loneliness be sated. And the longing be abated In the loved one, lovely past All imagining at last. Melting, fragrant, starry-eyed. Like a garden in its pride. Odorous with hint and rapture Of soft joys no word can capture. Ah, the sweet Pandean strain ! He who hears it once shall gain Freedom of the open door. Willing to go back no more. 25 THE PIPES OF PAN When ye hear the sea pipes thunder, Bow the loving heart in wonder; When ye hear the wood pipes play, Lift the door latch and away ; When ye hear the hill pipes calling. Where the pure cold brooks are falling. Follow till your feet have found The desired forgotten ground. And ye know, past all unlearning, By the raptured quench of yearning. What the breath is to the reed Whence the magic notes are freed, — What new life the gods discover To the loved one and the lover. When their fabled dreams come true In the wondrous fair and new. For the music of the earth, Helping joy-of-heart to birth, (Field note, wood note, wild or mellow, 26 THE PIPES OF PAN Bidding all things fare and fellow,) Means that wisdom lurks behind The enchantment of the mind ; And your longing keen and tense Still must trust the lead of sense, — Hint of colour, form, and sound, — Till it reach the perfect round, And completed blend its strain With the haunted pipes again. Ye must learn the lift and thrill That elate the wood pipes still ; Feel the ecstasy and shiver Of the reed notes in the river; Shudder to the minor trace In the sea's eternal bass, And give back the whole heart's treasure To supreme the music's measure, Glad that love should sink and sound All the beauty in earth's bound. 27 THE PIPES OF PAN All this loveliness which ran Searching through the pipes of Pan,- AU this love must merge and blend With Pan's piping in the end. All the knowledge ye draw near At the ripening of the year, Living one day at a time. Innocent of fear or crime, (When the mountain slopes put on Their brave scarlet in the sun, When the sea assumes a blue Such as April never knew, And the marshes, fields, and skies Sing with colour as day dies,) Peaceful, undistracted, free. In your earth-born piety ; All the love when friend for friend Dared misfortune to the end, — Fronted failure, flouted harm. For the sake of folding arm, — 28 THE PIPES OF PAN Bravelier trod the earth, and bolder, For the touch of hand on shoulder; All the homely smiles and tears Ever given childish years ; Every open, generous deed Lending help to human need ; Every kindliness to age. Every impulse true and sage. Lifting concord out of strife. Bringing beauty into life : These no feeble faith can ban Ever from the pipes of Pan. Think you Pan forgets the scheme Or the cadence of his theme ? Ah, your wit must still discover No mere madness of a lover. Headstrong, whimsical, and blind. But a prompting sane and kind. Scope and purpose, hint and plan, 29 THE PIPES OF PAN Lurking in the pipes of Pan ; Calling ever, smooth and clear, Courage to the heeding ear; Fluting ever, sw^eet and high. Wisdom to the passer-by ; Sounding ever, soft and far. Happiness no grief can mar. This enchantment Pan bequeaths Unto every lip that breathes ; Cunning unto every hand Agile under will's command; Unto every human heart The inheritance of art, Lighted only by a gleam Of the dear and deathless dream,- Power out of hurt and stain To bring beauty back again. And life's loveliness restore To a toiling age once more. 30 THE PIPES OF PAN Yes, the world is growing old, But the joys it used to hold. Love and beauty, only grow Greater as they come and go, — Larger, keener, and more splendid. Seen to be superbly blended, As the cadenced years go by. Into chord and melody. Strong and clear as ever ran Over the rude pipes of Pan. So the music passed and died In the dark green mountain side ; The entranced ravine took on A new purple^ faint and wan ; And I heard across the hush A far solitary thrush From the hemlocks deep and still Fluting day upon the bill. 31 MARSYAS. In Celaenae by Meander lived a youth once long ago, And one passion great and splendid brimmed his heart to overflow, — Filled the world for him with beauty, sense and colour, joy and glow. Not ambition and not power, love nor luxury nor fame, Beckoned him to join their pageant, summoned Marsyas by name, Bidding unreluctant spirit dare to keep the soaring aim ; 32 M A R S Y A S But the sorceries of music, note and rapture, tone and thrill, Sounding the serene enchantment over meadow, stream and hill. Blew for him the undesisting magic call-note, followed still. And he followed. Heart of wonder, how the keen blue smoke upcurled From the shepherd huts to heaven ! How the dew lay silver-pearled Where sleek sided cattle wandered through the morning of the world ! On a stream bank lay the idler dreaming dreams — for it was Spring — And he heard the frogs in chorus make the watery marshes ring ; Heard new comers at their nesting in the vine- yards pipe and sing ; 33 M A R S Y A S Heard the river lisp below him ; heard the wind chafe reed on reed ; Every earth-imprisoned creature finding vent and voice at need. Ah ! if only so could mortal longing and delight be freed ! Hark ! What piercing unknown cry comes steal- ing o'er the forest ground, Pouring sense and soul together in an ecstasy new-found ? Dream's fulfilment brought to pass and life untethered at a bound ! Then it pauses, and the youth beyond the river- bend perceives A divine one in her beauty stand, half-hidden by the leaves, Fingering a wondrous wood-pipe, whence the clear sound joys or grieves. 34 M A R S Y A S As he looked, entranced and musing at the marvel of the strain, All her loveliness uncinctured with a madness touched his brain, And love, like a vernal fever, dyed him with its scarlet stain. But Athene, glancing downward in the silver of the stream, As she fluted, saw her perfect mouth distorted by a seam ; Faltered, stopped, and, disconcerted, seemed to ponder half in dream For a rueful moment ; and then with reluctance tossed the reed She had fashioned in a happy leisure mood to serve her need Back into the tranquil river, nothing but a river weed, 35 M A R S Y A S All the cunning life that filled it quenched and spilt and flung away, To go seaward to oblivion on a wandering stream. But stay ! The young Phrygian lad has seen it, — marked the current set his way, — Stooped and picked it from the water ; put the treasure-trove to lip ; Blown his first breath, faint yet daring ; felt the wild notes crowd and slip Into melody and meaning from each testing finger-tip. Then, ah, then had mortal spirit sweep and room at last to range The lost limits of creation and the borderlands of change. All earth's loveliness transmuting into some- thing new and strange ; 36 M A R S Y A S All of beauty, all of knowledge, all of wonder, fused and caught In the rhythmus of the music, weaving out of sense and thought And a touch of love the fabric out of which the world was wrought. And the joy of each new cadence, as the glad notes pressed and cried. Eager for the strain's fulfilment, as they rose and merged and died In the music's utmost measure, filled the rose- grey mountain side, — Touched the sheep-bells in the meadow, moved the rushes in the stream, And suffused the youth with glory as he passed from theme to theme; Made him as the gods of morning in the ampler air of dream. 37 M A R S y A S Ah, what secret, what enchantment so could help the human need, Save the breath of life that lingered in the hollow of the reed, Since the careless mouth of beauty blessed it — with so little heed ? There he stood, a youth transfigured in the young world's golden glow. Made immortal in a moment by the music's melting flow. Pattern of the artist's glory for the after years to know. There he stands for us in picture, with the pipe whereon he plays ; The slow, large-eyed cattle wonder, and the flocks forget to graze. While upon the hill a shepherd turns and listens in amaze. 38 M A R S Y A S In the woods the timid creatures, reassured, approach and peer, Half aware the charm's allurement they must follow as they hear Is the first far-looked-for presage of the banish- ment of fear. Silence falls upon the woodland, quiet settles on the plain ; Earth and air and the blue heaven, without harm or taint or stain. Are restored to their old guise of large serenity again. Thus the player at his piping in the early mode and grave Took from Wisdom the inventress what the earth in bounty gave. And therein to round completion put the beating heart and brave. 39 M A R S Y A S So, you artists and musicians, earth awaits per- fection still ; Wisdom tarries by the brookside, beauty loiters on the hill, For the love that shall reveal them with the yet undreamed-of skill. Love be therefore all your passion, the one ardour that ye spend To enhance the craft's achievement with signi- cance and trend. Making faultless the wild strain that else were faulty to the end. Love must lend the magic cadence — that un- earthly dying fall When the simple sweet earth-music takes us captive past recall. And the loved one and the lover lose this world, nor care at all. 40 SYRINX. Once I saw (O breath of Summer!) In the azure prime of June, When the Northland takes her joy and sets her wintered life in tune, The soft wind come down the river, where a heron slept at noon; Stir the ripening meadow-grasses, lift the lily- pads, and stray Through the tall green ranks of rushes bowing to its ghostly sway; Then I heard it, like a whisper of the world, take voice and say: 41 SYRINX " Mortal by the wood-wind's murmur and the whisper of the stream, I, who am the breath of grasses and the soul of Summer's dream, Once was Syrinx, whom a great god loved and lost and made the theme " Of his mournful minor music. Nay, I who had worn the guise Which allured him, yet eluded, vanishing before his eyes. When his heart held lonely commune, taking counsel to devise " Some new solace for sad lovers that should give the spirit vent, Lovelier than speech of mortals where the stricken soul is pent And the longing gropes for language large enough for beauty's bent ; 42 SYRINX *' When he drew the reeds and ranged them, rank by rank from low to shrill, Bound them with the flax together — I was in- spiration still, I was heartache crying through them, I was echo on the hill. " And forever I am cadence, joyous, welling, sad or fond, When the breath of god or mortal, breaking time's primeval bond, Blows upon the mouths of wood and all the mellow throats respond. " Not a flute, but I have hidden in its haunted hollow mould ; In the deep Sicilian twilight, when the shepherd piped to fold, I have been the eerie calling of the Pan pipes rude and old; 43 SYRINX " From the ivory monaulos, when the soft Egyp- tian stars Sentried Cleopatra's gardens, through the open window-bars I went forth, a splendid torment, o'er the dream- ing nenuphars. " In the silver-mounted laurel played by some Byzantine boy, I was frenzy, when the throng night after night went mad for joy. As the dancer Theodora made the Emperor her toy. " In the boxwood bound with gold I drew my captives down the Nile, To the love-feasts of Bubastis, lovers by the thou- sand file. Willing converts to my love-call, children of the changeless smile. 44 SYRINX *' Babylonian Mylftta heard me keep the limpid tune, When the lovers danced before her at the feast of the new moon, Till the rosy flowers of beauty through her sacred groves were strewn. " And Sidonian Astarte and the Asian Cypriote Knew the large unhurried measure of my earth- sweet pagan rote. When the dancing youths before them followed me from note to note. " Where some lithe Bithynian flute-boy, nude and golden in the sun. Set his red mouth to the twin pipes, I was in each pause and run, When his manhood took the meaning of the love- notes one by one. 45 S Y R I X X " And amid the fields of iris by the blue Ionian sea, I was solemn-hearted sweetness and pure passion soon to be In the dark-haired little maid who piped her bud- ding melody. " I was youth and love and rapture, I was mad- ness in their veins, Calling through the heats of Summer, calling in the soft Spring rains, From the olive Phr}-gian hillsides and the deep Boeotian plains. " I but blew, and mortals followed ; I but breathed, and they were glad, — King and mendicant and sailor, courtesan and shepherd lad ; For there is no creed nor canon laid on music's mvriad. 46 SYRINX " Not a tribe nor race nor people born in darkest savagery, Dwellers in the Afric forest or the islands of the sea, But I wooed them from their war-drums — made them gentle — set them free. " Silence fell upon the tam-tams throbbing terror through the night, And the prayer-gongs ceased to conjure cowering villages with fright. When my cool note, clear as morning, called them to a new delight. " I, the breath of flute and oboe, golden wood and silver reed, Put away their fear, and taught them with my love-tone to give heed. When the love grew large within them, to the lovely spirit's need. 47 SYRINX " Henceforth no mere frantic rhythm of beat- ing foot and patting hand, Nor monotonous marimba could suffice for soul's demand, When Joy called her wa5rworn children and Peace wandered through the land. " Love must build a better music than the strum- ming tambourine, To ensphere his worlds of wonder, height and depth and space between. Pleasure-lands for Soul, the lover, to preempt as his demesne. " So he took the simple reed-note, as a dewdrop clear and round. Blew it (magic of creation!) to the tenuous pro- found Of sheer gladness, light and colour of the universe of sound. 48 SYRINX " And there soars the shining structure, tone on tone as star on star, Spheres of knowledge and of beauty, where love's compensations are, And the plenitudes of spirit move to rhythm without a jar; " Every impulse in its orbit swinging to the utmost range Of the normal sweep of being, through un- fathomed gulfs of change, Poised, unswerved, and never finding aught un- lovely or unstrange. " When some dark Peruvian lover set the love- flute to his lip, I was the new soft enchantment loosed upon the dusk, to slip Through the trees and thrill the loved one from warm nape to finger-tip; 49 SYRINX " Till she could not choose but follow where my player piped for her; So I roused the love within her, set the gipsy pulse astir, With my w^ild delicious pleading, strong as in- cense, fine as myrrh. " When for love the Winnebago took his court- ing-flute and played His wild theme for days together near the lodge- door of his maid, I was ritual and rapture of the triumph he essayed. " And my brown Malayan lovers pierce the living gold bamboo, For the lone melodious accents of the wind to wander through. While my haunting spirit tells them many a secret old and true. SO SYRINX " In the soft Sumatran pan-flute with its seven notes I plead ; I am help to the Marquesan in his slender scarlet reed; From the immemorial East I draw my dark-eyed gipsy breed. " Chukma, Dyak, Mahalaka, Papuan and Ashanti, Hillmen from the Indian snows, canoemen from the Carib sea, Tribesmen from the world's twelve corners, at my whisper come to me — " All the garlanded earth-children in their gala bright array, Laughing like the leaves, or sighing like the grass-heads which I sway; For my lure is swift to lead them, and my solace strong to stay. 51 SYRINX " And the road must melt before them and their piping fill all lands, Till a new world at their fluting like a magic flower expands, And Soul's unexplored dominion is surrendered to their hands. " Did not I, the woodbreath, calling, make thy mortal pulses ring. And thy many-seasoned roof-tree with its dusty rafters sing? Was not I the long sweet love-throb in the music- house of Spring? " Think how all the golden willows and the maples crimson-keyed. Kept the rare appointed season, flowering at the instant need, When the wood-pipes gave my summons and the marshy flutes were freed! 52 SYRINX '■ Love be, then, in every heart-beat, whtn the year comes round to June, And life reaches up to rapture, lingering on the perfect tune. As this evening in your valley silvered by the early moon." Thus I heard the voice of Syrinx, by the dreamy river shore. Sift and cease, as one might pass through a large room and close the door; And I knew myself a stranger on this lovely earth no more. 53 THE MAGIC FLUTE. Hear, O Syrinx, thou lost dryad ! Marsyas, thou mortal, hear! If to lovely and free spirits it is granted to draw near And revisit the vv^hole earth from some far-off and tw^illght sphere, Like the limpid star of evening hanging o'er the dark hill brow^. Globed in light to touch this valley where a wor- shipper I bow, O give heed, and of your wisdom help a mortal lover now! 54 THE MAGIC FLUTE Lend him, novice at your flute-work, learner of the magic cry. Something, howsoever faulty, of that cunning ecstasy, — The inevitable cadence where the raptures pause and die, — You could marshal at your bidding from the wind-blown river reeds, — Mark to rhythm and mould to beauty, — plastic for perfection's needs; Skill to give the spirit lodgment where the long- ing fancy leads! Souls of lovers lost in music! You who were beloved of Pan, Piping madness through the meadow where the silver river ran, You who, favoured of Athene, found her careless gift to man, — 55 THE MAGIC FLUTE O Stray hither, and recalling some such earth- born golden hour, When the thrushes eased their sorrow, and the laurel was in flower. Give this last lost child of nature one least pit- tance of your power! So he shall be well accounted love's own minstrel first and best, By another shy wild Syrinx w^hen he puts the gift to test. For a single day immortal. And the gods make good the rest! Hear, sweetheart, the lonely thrushes! Pure and pleading up the clove. From the dark moon-haunted hemlocks and the spacious dim beech grove. Pierced by love's own silver planet with a path for us to rove, 56 THE MAGIC FLUTE Comes the rapture, clear, unsullied, undistracted, undismayed, Heart of earth that still remembers how her strength and joy were made, When the breath of life was given and the touch of doom was stayed, — The great joyance of creation welling through the world once more; Love in power and pride and passion, crying still at beauty's door; Soul in contemplation ranging the star-lighted forest floor. Once . . . O little girl, lift up that dear, wild, tender wood-nymph's face To your lover's who so loves you, gladdening all this leafy place. Where as music merged in moonshine sense and spirit interlace! 57 THE MAGIC FLUTE In the first of time was Hathor, the Eg>^ptian Ashtoreth, She who bore the mighty Sun and quickened nature with her breath, Rocked the cradle of the Nile and gave men life and gave them death. Once to share her mysteries, when earth grew green with spring, there came To her temple in Bubastis, needy and unknown to fame, A young herdsman golden-haired and tall, Argalioth by name. And his undeflowered beauty, fair as lotus, slim as palm. With his voice like sweet hill-water sounding in the choric psalm, Touched the mighty heart there brooding in inviolable calm. 58 THE MAGIC FLUTE And a sigh as of the wind arose; the song was hushed ; the veil Of the Shrine, which none might enter, moved and shimmered like a sail, Or the golden boreal lights that hang across our Northern trail. In astonishment the dancers halted. Then the voice said " Peace! Let my son Argalioth come near. It is a gift of peace. Henceforth only truth and goodness, finding vir- tue, shall find peace." Then the lad arose and went behind the veil, and all was still. Slowly, as from out all distance, rising far and fine and shrill, Came a flute-note, strong as sea-wind, clear as morning on the hill, — 59 THE MAGIC FLUTE Grew and gained and swelled and triumphed, lingering from tone to tone, Golden deep to silver treble, pure and passionate and lone. Marking time to things eternal, touching bounds of spirit's zone, Filling all the space between with all the wonder and despair — Reach and compass and fulfilment soul could ever dream or dare — Of the bliss beyond all telling, when the wild sense grows aware. Then before those spellbound watchers from the Holy Place returned The youth, girt in scarlet linen, with a counte- nance where burned The great glory of his vision and the secret he had learned. 60 THE MAGIC FLUTE In his hand a yellow flute-reed bound with seven silver bands; From brown foot to red-gold hair a figure that might haunt all lands With distraction and enthralment, while this earth in beauty stands. Not a word he spoke; serenely trod the marble to the door; Set the flute to mouth, and piping strains no ear had heard before, Passed out through the golden weather, and no man beheld him more. Yet there lingered, ah, what music! Not a lis- tener in that throng. Through the years that came upon him, but at times would hear the long Piercing and melodious cadence, summer-sweet and autumn-strong, 6i THE MAGIC FLUTE Heard so long ago; and always, as if musing, he would say, ** It is Hathor's magic flute. In some blue valley far away. By a well among the palms her wanderer has paused to play! " For through all the earth he wandered with his magic pipe ; and none Heard that piping, but they straightway knew that their old life was done, And the glamour was upon them, prudence lost and freedom won. He it was w^ho touched with madness, soft sweet madness of the spring, The green-throated frogs, whose chorus makes the grassy meadows ring, And the birds who come with April, and must break their heart or sing; 62 THE MAGIC FLUTE Touched his fellow mortals even with a madness of the mind, Till they, too, must rise and follow, leaving sober tasks behind, While a thing called love possessed them with a craving sweet and blind, And they knew no fear thereafter, save the one supreme despair, — Having loved, to lose the loved one, the one lovely friend could share The vast loneliness of being. What mute bitter- ness were there! And we all are Hathor's children, brothers of the frogs and birds. Who have listened once forever to the pipe whose magic words None can fathom, though we follow dumbly as the flocks and herds. 63 THE MAGIC FLUTE Thenceforth howsoe'er we wander, all our care is but to know Truth, the Sorceress whose spell of beauty can entrance us so, As it was with happy lovers in their wisdom long ago. And to all men once a lifetime comes that music sweet and shrill. Pleading for the life's perfection, good's prefer- ment over ill. Beauty's issue from debasement, the deliverance of will. Many hear it not, or hearing turn with heedless hearts away. Or their soul is deaf with greed or lust or anger or dismay. And the precious fateful moment passes. But the wise are they, 64 THE MAGIC FLUTE Who preserve without disquiet the serene and open mind, The impassioned poise of spirit, lodged in senses more refined Than the quaking aspen breathed on by the un- seen secret wind. So in spite of tears and turmoil many a radiant hour they know, Hearing o'er the roofs of men the far off magic woodpipes blow, With a message for the morrow bidding them arise and go. And that message? What I cherish most, this sweet white night of June, When from sheath of fragrant lace-work slips one shoulder, like the moon From the pine-tops with a lustre such as made its lover swoon. ^S THE MAGIC FLUTE Once on Latmus; when your hair falls, like a vine the stars peep through ; When I kiss your heart out, much as mighty Pan the reed-pith drew. And your breath in one " Beloved ! " answers like the reed he blew ; What I prize most, and most treasure, is this knowledge great and sure: He who knows love, knows the secret, — he who has love has the lure, — Of the strain whereto this earth w^as moulded well and must endure. Hush, ah, hush! Lie still! The music is not yet gone from the firs, Haply here the Ancient Mother, in this solitude of hers, Where the mighty veil of silence, leaves and stars, the hill-wind stirs, 66 THE MAGIC FLUTE Some new larger revelation would vouchsafe to you and me Of the sorceries of summer or the secret of the sea, Whose sheer beauty shall enthral us while its truth shall set us free. O my golden Syrinx, surely we have heard the magic flute, Whose dark wild mysterious transport in a moment can transmute All the heart and life forever, making spirits that were mute Musical and glad! And we have listened to that lost flute-strain. Whose long sweet and sobbing minor is the record of the rain, — Whose proud passion is the gladness when the spring comes back again. 67 THE MAGIC FLUTE Hark, the thrushes at their fluting ! The old wiz- ardry and stress Of entrancement are upon them. Wise ones of the wilderness, Who can say but they have burdens of a joy beyond our guess? Long since did the magic minstrel take them silent from the bough In his hands, and vrith the secret breath of life their throats endow, As this rose-red mouth of beauty burning meward I do now! 68 A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS. All night long my cabin roof resounded With the mighty murmur of the rain ; All night long I heard the silver cohorts Tramping down the valley to the plain ; All night long the ringing rain-drops volleyed On the hollow drum-heads of the leaves In a wild tattoo, while gusty hill-winds Fifed The Young Pans' March about the eaves. So all night within the mountain forest Passed the shadowy forces at review; And they bore me back to time's beginning When the wonder of the world was new. ^ A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS Then from out the gloom there came a vision Of the beauty of the earth of old, — The unclouded face and gracious figure, Filleted with laurel and green-stoled, Such as Daphne wore the day she wandered Through the silent beech-wood of the god. When a sunray through the roof of shadows Wheeled and stole behind her where she trod, - When the loveliness of earth, transfigured By one touch of rapture, grew divine, Ere it fled before the unveiled presence To indwell forever its green shrine. Like a mist I saw the hair's gold glory, The grave eyes, the childish scarlet lip. And the rose-pink fervour that afforded Soul the sheath to fill from tip to tip. 7c A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS On her mouth she laid a warning finger, i And her slow calm enigmatic smile Told me, ere she spoke, one-half the message; Then I heard (my heart stood still the while), " Mortal, wouldst thou know the maddening transport No mere earth-born lover may attain, Till some woodland deity hath loved him. And her beauty mounted to his brain ? " Thenceforth he becomes, with her for mistress, Master of the moods and minds of men. Moulding as he will their deeds and daring. All their follies open to his ken; " Yet is he a wanderer forever. Without respite seeking the unknown. Wouldst thou leave the world for one who offers But the beauty bounded by her zone?" 7« A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS When I woke in golden morning dyeing The dark valley and the purple hill, Flushing at the doorway of the forest, Flowered my mountain laurel, cool and still. How I chose ? Have ye not heard in Lesbos Of a mad young shepherd by the shore, Whose w^ild piping bids the traveller tarry Some immortal sorrow to deplore? On a morning by the river marges Many a passer-by hath heard that strain, Sweet and sad and strange and full of longing As a bird-note through the purple rain. In a maze the haunted music holds them With its meaning past all guess or care; With its magic note the lonely cadence Swells and sinks and dies upon the air; 72 A SHEPHERD IN LESBOS And they say, " It is the stricken shepherd Whom the nymph's enchantment set astray, And the spell of his bewildering vision Holds him fast a lover from that day. " His dark theme no mortal may interpret; But forever when the wood-pipes blow, Some remembered and mysterious echo Calls us unresisting and we go." 73 DAPHNE. I know that face ! In some lone forest place, When June brings back the laurel to the hills, Where shade and sunlight lace. Where all day long The brown birds make their song — A music that seems never to have known Dismay nor haste nor wrong — I once before Have seen thee by the shore, As if about to shed the flowery guise And be thyself once more. 74 DAPHNE Dear, shy, soft face. With just the elfin trace That lends thy human beauty the last touch Of wild, elusive grace ! Can it be true, A god did once pursue Thy gleaming beauty through the glimmering wood, Drenched in the Dorian dew, Too mad to stay His hot and headstrong way. Demented by the fragrance of thy flight. Heedless of thy dismay ? But I to thee More gently fond would be. Nor less a lover woo thee with soft words And woodland melody ; 75 DAPHNE Take pipe and play Each forest fear away ; Win thee to idle in the leafy shade All the long Summer day ; Tell thee old tales Of love, that still avails More than all mighty things in this great world, Still wonderworks nor fails ; Teach thee new lore. How to love more and more, And find the magical delirium In joys unguessed before. I would try over And over to discover Some wild, sweet, foolish, irresistible New way to be thy lover — 76 DAPHNE New, wondrous ways To fill thy golden days, Thy lovely pagan body with delight, Thy loving heart with praise. For I would learn. Deep in the brookside fern, The magic of the syrinx whispering low With bubbly fall and turn ; Mock every note Of the green woodbird's throat. Till some wild strain, impassioned yet serene, Should form and float Far through the hills. Where mellow sunlight fills The world with joy, and from the purple vines The brew of life distils. 77 DAPHNE Ah, then indeed Thy heart should have no need To tremble at a footfall in the brake, And bid thy bright limbs speed. But night would come, And I should make thy home In the deep pines, lit by a yellow star Hung in the dark blue dome — A fragrant house Of woven balsam boughs. Where the great Cyprian mother should receive Our warm unsullied vows. 78 THE LOST DRYAD. Where are you gone from the forest, Leaving the mountain-side lonely And all the beech woods deserted, O my dear Daphne ? All the day long I go seeking Trace of your flowerlike footprint. Will not the dew on the meadow Tell tale of Daphne ? Will not the sand on the sea-shore Treasure that magical impress For the disconsolate longing Lover of Daphne ? 79 THE LOST DRYAD Will not the moss and the fern-bed Bearing the mould of her beauty, Tell me where wandered and rested Rose-golden Daphne ? All the night through I go hearkening Every wild murmurous echo, — Hint of your laughter, — the birdlike Voice of my Daphne. Why do the poplar leaves whisper Things to themselves in the silence, Though no wind visits the valley. Daphne, my Daphne ? Listen ! I hear their small voices. An elfin multitude, mingle. Lisping in silver-leaf language, " Daphne, O Daphne ! " 80 THE LOST DRYAD Listen ! I hear the cold hill-brook Plash down the clove on its pebbles, And the ravine drenched in moonlight Echoing, " Daphne ! *' " Daphne," the rain says at nightfall; " Daphne," the wind breathes at morning ; And a voice troubles the hot noon Uttering " Daphne." Ah, what impassioned remembrance, In the dark pines in the starlight, Touches the dream of your wood-thrush, O my lost Daphne, Dyeing his sleep like a bubble Coloured for joy, and the note comes, Golden, enchanted, eternal, Calling for Daphne ! THE LOST DRYAD O Mother Earth, at how many Thresholds of lone-dwelling mortals Must I, a wayfarer, tarry. Asking for Daphne ? — How many times see their faces Fade to incredulous wonder, Hearing in some remote vale The story of Daphne, Ere I at last through the twilight Hear the soft rapturous outcry. And as of old there will greet me Far-wandered Daphne ? 82 THE DEAD FAUN. Who hath done this thing ? What wonder is this that lies On the green earth so still under purple skies, Like a hyacinth shaft the careless mower has cut And thought of no more ? Who hath wrought this pitiful wrong on the lovely earth ? What ruthless hand could ruin that harmless mirth ? O heart of things, what undoing is here, never now To be mended more ! 83 THE DEAD FAUN No more, O beautiful boy, shall thy fleet feet stray Through the cool beech wood on the shadowy mountain way, Nor halt by the well at noon, nor trample the flowers On the forest floor. Thy beautiful light-seeing gold-green eyes, so glad When day came over the hill, so wondrous sad When the burning sun went slowly under the sea, Shall look no more. 84 THE DEAD FAUN Thy nimble fingers that plucked the fruit from the bough, Or fondled the nymph's bright hair and filleted brow, Or played the wild mellow pipe of thy father Pan, Shall play no more. Thy sensitive ears that knew all the speech of the wood. Every call of the birds and the creatures, and understood What the wind to the water said, what the river replied. Shall hear no more. 85 THE DEAD FAUN Thy scarlet and lovely mouth which the dryads knew, Dear whimsical ardent mouth that love spoke through, For all the kisses of life that it took and gave. Shall say no more. Who hath trammelled those feet that never again shall rove ? Who hath bound these hands that never again shall move ? Who hath quenched the lamp In those eyes that never again Shall be lighted more? §6 THE DEAD FAUN Who hath stopped those ears from our heart- broken words forever ? Who hath sealed that wonderful mouth with Its secret forever ? Who hath touched this innocent being with pitiless death, And he is no more ? He was fair as a mortal and spiritual as a flower ; He knew no hate, but was happy within the hour. The Gods had given him beauty and freedom and joy. Could they give no more ? 87 THE DEAD FAUN Is all their wisdom and power so fond a thing ? Must he perish, nor ever return with returning Spring, But be left like a dead-ripe fruit on the ground for a stranger To find and deplore ? They have given to mortal man the immortal scope, The perilous chance, unrest and remembrance and hope. That imperfection may come to perfection still Bv some fabled shore. 88 THE DEAD FAUN Did they give this being, this marvellous work of their hands, No breath of the greater life with its grief and demands ? Do beauty and love without bitter knowledge attain This and no more ? The wind may whisper to him, he will heed no more ; The leaves may murmur and lisp, he will laugh no more ; The oreads weep and be heavy at heart for him, He will care no more. 89 THE DEAD FAUN The reverberant thrushes may peal from the hemlock glooms, The summer clouds be woven on azure looms ; He is done with all lovely things of earth for- ever And ever morco 90 HYLAS. Cool were the grey-mottled beeches, Quiet with noon were the fern-beds, Where by the bubbling spring water Tarried young Hylas. Whistling a song of the rowers, Dipping his jar till it gurgled, Suddenly there the bright naiads (Woe for thee, Hylas!) Looked and beheld his fair beauty Better their well-head, and straightway Exquisite longing possessed them Only for Hylas. 91 H Y L A S When he returned not at sundown, " Over long," said his companions, As slow dismay came upon them, " Tarries young Hylas." Never again did his comrades Find the lost rower, nor maidens See from their doorways at twilight Home-coming Hylas. Thenceforth another must labour To the timed thud of his rowlock. And only legends keep tally Of the lost Hylas. Yet even now, when the springtime Verdures the valley, and rain-winds Voyage for lands undiscovered, As once did Hylas, 92 H Y L A S With a great star on the hill-crest In purple evening, a flute-note Pierces the dusk, and a voice calls, "Hylas, Hylas!" 93 AT PH^DRA'S TOMB. What old grey ruin can this be, Beside the blue Saronic Sea ? What tomb is this, what temple here. Thus side by side so many a year ? This is that temple Phaedra built To Aphrodite, having spilt Her whole heart's great warm love in vain. One lovely mortal's love to gain ; Yet trusting by that fervent will, Consuming and unconquered still, In spite of failure and of fate, By favour of the gods to sate Her splendid lost imperious Mad love for young Hippolytus, Whose brilliant beauty seemed to glow 94 AT PH^DRA'S TOMB Like a tall Alp in rosy snow, While love and passion, wind and fire. Flared through the field of her desire. " Great Mother, come from Paphos now With benediction on thy brow. And pity ! Not beneath the sun Lives such another hapless one. O Aphrodite of the sea, For love have mercy upon me ! Give me his beauty now to slake This body's longing and soul's ache ! Touch his cold heart until he know The divine sorrow of love's woe." What madness hers, what folly his ! And all their beauty come to this Epitome of mortal doom — A name, a story, and a tomb ! 95 AT PH^DRA'S TOMB Have ye not seen the fog from sea On Autumn mornings silently Steal in to land, and wrap the sun With its grey, cold oblivion ? The goddess would not smile on her, On him no gentler mood confer. He still must flush his maiden whim ; She still must leash her love for him, A fancy lawless and superb. Too wild to tame, too strong to curb. Too great for her to swerve or stay In our half-hearted modern way. Have ye not seen the fog from land Blow out to sea, and leave the band Of orange marsh and lilac shore To brood in Autumn peace once more ? 96 AT PH^DRA'S TOMB So there survives the magic fame Of her imperishable name, — Light from a time when love was great, And strong hearts had no fear of fate. But lived and strove and wrought and died, With beauty for their only guide. And yet this temple, raised and wrought With prayers and tears, availed her naught. The years with it have had their will ; Her soft name is a by-word still For thwarted spirit, vexed and teased By yearnings that cannot be eased, — The soul that chafes upon the mesh Of tenuous yet galling flesh. How blue that midday shadow is In the white dust of Argolis ! . . . This is her tomb. . . . See, near at hand. This myrtle ! Here she used to stand 97 AT PHy^iDRA'S TOMB Those days when her love-haunted eyes Saw her new-builded hope arise, Watching the masons set the stone And fingering her jewelled zone. Or moving restless to and fro. Her pale brows knit a little, so. Look ! every leaf pierced through and through I doubt not the gold pin she drew From her dark hair, and, as the storm Of love swept through her lovely form With pique and passion, thrust on thrust. Vented her vehemence. O dust, That once entempled such a flame With beauty, colour, line and name, And gave great Love a dwelling-place Behind so fair, so sad a face. Where is thy wilful day-dream now. That passionate lip, that moody brow ? 98 AT PHAEDRA'S TOMB Ah, fair Greek woman, if there bloom Some flower of knowledge in the gloom, Receive the piteous, loving sigh Of one more luckless passer-by. Peace, peace, wild heart ! Unsatisfied Has every mortal lived and died, Since thy dear beauty found a bed Forever with the dreaming dead, In seagirt Hellas long ago. Immortal for thy mortal woe ' 99 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER pipes of Pan, Make me a man, As only your piercing music can ! When I set my lip To your reedy lip. And you feel the urging man-breath slip Through fibre and flake, Bidding you wake To the strange new being for beauty's sake, 1 pray there be Returned to me The strength of the hills and the strength of the sea. lOO A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER river reed, In whom the need Of the journeying river once was freed. As of old your will Was the water's will, To quiver and call or sleep and be still, So now anew 1 breathe in you The ardour no alchemy can subdue, And add the dream, — The immortal gleam That never yet fell on meadow or stream. I breathe and blow On your dumb mouth so. Till your lurking soul is alive and aglow. Ah, breathe in me The strength of the sea. The calm of the hills and the strength of the sea! lOI A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER Love, joy, and fear. From my faint heart here. Shall melt in your cadence wild and clear. With freedom and hope I range and grope, Till I find new stops in your earthly scope. The pleading strain Of pathos and pain. The diminished chord and the lost refrain ; The piercing sigh. The joyous cry. The sense of what shall be bye and bye; The grief untold Out of man's heart old, Which endures that another may still be bold ; The wiser will That foregoes self-will And aspires to truth beyond trammel or ill ; 102 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER Ambition unsure, And the splendid lure Of whim in his harlequin vestiture ; And the reach of sound Into thought's profound ; All these I add to your power earth-bound ; But most, the awe That perceives where law Is revealed at last without fault or flaw, — The touch of mind That would search and find The measure of beauty, the purpose of kind. So with the fire Of man*s desire Your notes shall outreach the mountain choir. Brook, breeze, and bird Shall hear the Word, And know 'tis their master they have heard. 103 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER And the lowly reed, Whose only need Was to sigh with the wind in the river weed, Shall be heard as far As from star to star. Where Algol answers to Algebar. For the soul must trace Her wondrous race By a seventh sense on the charts of space, Till she come at last, Through the vague and vast. To her own heart's haven fixed and fast. pipes of Pan, Whose music ran Through the world ere ever my age began, When I set my lip To your woodland lip, 1 pray some draft of your virtue slip 104 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER From each mellow throat, As note by note, A learner, I try for the secret rote, — The rhythm and theme That shall blend man's dream Of perfection with nature's imperfect scheme ! Blow low, blow high. Your haunting cry For me, a wayfarer passing by j Blow soft or keen, I shall listen and lean To catch what your whispered messages mean. I shall hear, and heed The voice of the reed. And be glad of my kinfolk's word, indeed. I shall hearken and hear Your untroubled cheer From the earth's deep heart, serene and clear. 105 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER Blow cold and shrill, As the wind from the hill, I yet shall follow to learn your will ; Blow soft and warm, As an April storm, I shall listen and feel my soul take form. Blow glad and strong, As the grosbeak's song, And I mount with you over hurt and wrong Blow little and thin. As the cricket's din j But my door is wide, and I bid them in. Blow, blow till there be Inbreathed in me Tinge of the loam and tang of the sea, — - A vagrom man. Favoured of Pan, Made out of ardour and sinew and tan, io6 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER With the seeing eye For meadow and sky, The want only beauty can satisfy, And the wandering will. The questing will, The inquisitive, glad, unanxious will. That must up and away On the brave essay Of the fair and far through the long sweet day, — Of the fine and true. The wondrous and new. All the warm radiant bright world through. Blow me the tune Of the ripe red moon, I shall sleep like a child by the roadside soon ; And the tune of the sun ; When our piping is done, Lo, others shall finish what we have begun. 107 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER For the spell we cast Shall prevail at last, — When fault is forgotten and failure past, — Prevail and restore To earth once more The lost enchantment, the wonder-lore. And I must attain To the road again. With the wandering dust and the wandering rain, — A sojourner too My way pursue. Who am spirit and substance, even as you. Then give me the slow Large will to grow, As your fellows down by the brookside grow. Ah, blow, and breed In my manhood's need The long sweet patience of flower and seed I 108 A YOUNG PAN'S PRAYER O pipes of Pan, Make me a man, As only your earthly music can ; And create in me From your melody The strength of the hills and the strength of the sea ! 109 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF. This is a question arose in the Norseland long ago^ About the time of Tule^ the season of joy and snow. To-morrow,, our Christmas Day,, can you answer straight and true,, After these thousand years,, when the question comes to you ? Olaf sat on his throne, and the priest of Thor stood by ; And the King's eyes were grey as the December sky. " Whom shall we serve, O King — the god of thy fathers, Thor, Who made us lords of the sea, and gave us our land in war, no THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " Who follows our battle flag over the barren brine, Who braces the bursting heart when the rowers bend in line, " Who hath made us the fear of the world and the envy of the earth. Whose splendour sustains us in death, who hath given us plenty for dearth, " Or this poor, thought-ridden Jew, an outcast whose head was priced At thirty pieces of silver, this friendless anarchist, Christ ? " Is not thine empire spread over the Western Isles ? Are not thy people sown wherever the sun-path smiles ? Ill THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " Do there not come to thee iron and gems and corn ? Does not thy glory blaze wherever our trade is borne ? " Over the red sea-rim thy galleys go down with the sun ; Beyond the gates of the storm thy written mandates run. " Behold, new lands arise to the lift of thy dar- ing prows, And health and riches and joy prosper thy fir- built house. " Is there lack to thee of aught the strength of thy folk can give, When the will and the longing come to stretch out thy hand and live ? 12 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " Honey and fruit and wine, are they not piled on the board ? Do not a hundred tribes pay tribute to our Lord ? " Olaf, beloved of the gods ! Is there an out- land tongue, Is there an isle of the sea where thy praise has not been sung ? "Scarlet and silk and gold gleam on thy breast and brow. Had the kings of the earth of old such honour and freedom as thou ? " Might and dominion and power and majesty, are they not thine ? Will the seed of warrior kings dishonour the war-god's shrine ? "3 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " O King, do I speak this day in thy name, or forevermore Let perish the ancient creed ? By thy grace, is it Christ or Thor ? " Olafsat on his throne. And the Priest of Thor gave place To a pale dark monk. All eyes were bent on the stranger's face. " O King, how shall I speak and answer this wisdom of eld ? Yet the new trees of the forest spring up where the old are felled. '■^ When the sombre and ancient firs are laid in the dust, in your North, The tender young green of the birch and the delicate aspen put forth. 114 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " Is the land left naked and bare, because the brush-fires have run ? Ye have seen the soft carpet of fern spread down where the blackening was done. " With beauty God covers the ground, no acre too poor to befriend, That thou and I and all men may perceive and comprehend. " He carries the sea in His hand, He lights the stars in the sky. And whispers over thy soul as the shadows move on the rye. " The King has his kingly state, but his heart is the heart of man, Swept over by clouds of grief, then sunlit with joy for a span. "5 THE TIDINGS TO OI. AF " And every living spirit that is clothed with flesh and bone Is just so much of God's being, His presence revealed and known. "We are part of God's breath, as the gust, whereby thy hearth-fire is fanned, Is part of the wild north-wind that rolls the breakers to land. " We are a part of His life, as the waves are a part of the sea, A moment uplift in the sun, then merged in eternity. "What is it, O man and King, that stretches between us twain, Like the living tides that gird the islands of the main? ii6 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " What lifts thy name, Olaf, aloft on the shout of thy folk in war ? What keeps it warm by the hearth ? Is it the favour of Thor ? '' No ! 'Tis the love of thy people, the great common love of thy kind, The thing that is old as the sun and stronger than the wind. " And, Olaf, all these things, these goods which thy priest proclaims, That make thee a lord among men, and give thee a name above names, " Are gifts of the spirit of love. Take away love, and thy throne Melts like a word on the air ; thou art a name unknown. "7 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " Is the King heavy at heart, and no man can tell him why ; What does his glory avail to put the heavi- ness by ? " But like any poor nameless man among men, the mighty King Is heartened among his folk by the simple love they bring. " Is the King weary in mind, and none can lighten his mood ; What cheers him to power anew but thought of his people's good ? " To love, to know, and to do ! So we grow perfect apace, The human made more divine, as the old to the new gives place. ii8 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF "But who will show us the way, — be lantern and staff and girth ? Where is the Light of the World and the Sweetness of the Earth ? " The King has a thousand men, yet one more brave than the rest ; The King has a hundred bards, yet one the wisest and best ; "The King has a score of friends, yet one most accounted of. And now, if these three were one, in courage, in wisdom and love, " There were the matchless friend, whose cause should enlist all lands. Gentle, intrepid, and true. And there, O King, Christ stands. 119 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " Freedom and knowledge and joy, not mine nor any man's, But open to all the earth without proscription or bans, "Where is the bringer of these? His hand is upon thy door. And He who knocks, O King, is a greater God than Thor. " Olaf, 'tis Yule in the world ; the old creeds groan and fall. The ice of doubt at their heart, the snows of fear over all. " But now, even now, O friends, deep down in the kindly earth, Are not the marvellous seeds awaiting the hour of birth ? X20 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " Even now in the sunlit places, do not the saplings prepare To unfold their new growth to the light, un- sheathe their rich buds on the air ? " And so, from the dark, sweet mould of the human heart will arise. To enmorning the world with light and this life emparadise, *' The deathless, young glory of love. And valley and hill and plain And fields and cities of men, they shall not sorrow again. "For there shall be freedom and peace and beauty in that far spring. And folk shall go forth without fear, and be glad at their work and sing. 121 THE TIDINGS TO OLAF " And men will hallow this day with His name who died on the tree, For the cause of eternal love, in the service of liberty. " O King, shall the feet of Truth come in through thy open door. Or alone out of all the world be debarred ? Is it Christ or Thor ? " The King sat on his throne, and the two priests stood by. And OlaPs eyes grew mild as a blue April sky. Thus were the tidings to Olaf brought in the early days^ To he a lamp in his house^ and a sign-post in the ways. And you, O men and women^ does it concern you at all. That Truth still cries at the cross-roads, and you do not heed his call P 122 THE PRAYER IN THE ROSE GARDEN. Lord of this rose garden, At the end of May, Where thy guests are bidden To tarry for a day. Through the sweet white falling Of the tender rain. With thy roses theeward Lift this dust again. Make the heart within me That crumbles to obey, Perceive and know thy secret Desire from day to day ; 123 THE PRAYER IN THE ROSE GARDEN Even as thy roses, Knowing where they stand Before the wind, thy presence, Tremble at thy hand. Make me, Lord, for beauty, Only this I pray. Like my brother roses, Growing day by day. Body, mind and spirit. As thy voice may urge From the wondrous twilight At the garden's verge. Till I be as they be. Fair, then blown away. With a name like attar. Remembered for a day. 124 Copyright. 190 1, by The Ess Es£ Publishing Company (Incorporated) Copyright, 1902, by AiNSLEE Magazine Company Copyright, 1902, by The Century Company Copyright, 1899, 1900, by Charles Scribner's Sons Copyright, 1900, by Harper and Brothers Copyright, 1903, by L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated) Published, May, 1903 TO THE MEMORY OF MY FRIEND Out of doors are budding trees, calling birds, and opening flowers, Purple rainy distances, fragrant winds and lengthening hours. Only in the loving heart, with its unforgetting mind, There is grief for seasons gone and the friend it cannot find. For upon this lovely earth mortal sorrow still must bide, And remembrance still must lurk like a pang in beauty^ s side. Ah, one wistful heartache now April with her joy m.ust bring, And the want of you return always with returning spring! New York, April, igoj. CONTENTS Page ** Lord of My Heart's Elation" ... i The Green Book of the Bards .... 3 First Croak 9 A Supplication 15 April Weather 16 Spring Magic 20 The Enchantress 23 The Madness of Ishtar 25 A Creature Catechism 32 Sursum Corda 40 The Word in the Beginning 49 From an Old Ritual 68 Fellow Travellers 70 The Field by the Sea 71 The Dancers of the Field 74 The Breath of the Reed fd Poppies 80 CONTENTS Page Compensation 83 The Spell 88 A Forest Shrine 90 Among the Aspens 95 The Green Dancers 105 The Wind at the Door iio At the Yellow of the Leaf 114 The Silent Wayfellow 119 Pictor Ignotus 125 Ephemeron 13*^ The Heretic 133 After School I37 "LORD OF MY HEART'S ELATION." Lord of my heart's elation, Spirit of things unseen, Be thou my aspiration Consuming and serene ! Bear up, bear out, bear onward This mortal soul alone, To selfhood or oblivion. Incredibly thine own, — As the foamheads are loosened And blown along the sea. Or sink and merge forever In that whicn bids them be. **LORD OF MY HEARt's ELATIOn" I, too, must climb in wonder, Uplift at thy command, — Be one with my frail fellows Beneath wind's strong hand, A fleet and shadowy column Of dust or mountain rain, To walk the earth a moment And be dissolved again. Be thou my exaltation Or fortitude of mien. Lord of the world's elation Thou breath of things unseen THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS. There is a book not written By any human hand, The prophets all have studied, The priests have always banned. I read it every morning, I ponder it by night ; And Death shall overtake me Trimming my humble light. He'll say, as did my father When I was young and small, " My son, no time for reading ! The night awaits us all." THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS He'll smile, as did my father When I was small and young, That I should be so eager Over an unknown tongue. Then I would leave my volume And willingly obey, — Get me a little slumber Against another day. Content that he who taught me Should bid me sleep awhile, I would expect the morning To bring his courtly smile ; New verses to decipher. New chapters to explore. While loveliness and wisdom Grew ever more and more. THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS For who could ever tire Of that wild legendry, The folk-lore of the mountains, The drama of the sea ? I pore for days together Over some lost refrain, — The epic of the thunder. The lyric of the rain. This was the creed and canon Of Whitman and Thoreau, And all the free believers Who worshipped long ago. Here Amiel in sadness. And Burns in pure delight. Sought for the hidden import Of man's eternal plight. THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS No Xenophon nor Caesar This master had for guide, Yet here are well recorded The marches of the tide. Here are the marks of greatness Accomplished without noise, The Elizabethan vigour. And the Landorian poise ; The sweet Chaucerian temper, Smiling at all defeats ; The gusty moods of Shelley, The autumn calms of Keats. Here were derived the gospels Of Emerson and John ; 'Twas with this revelation The face of Moses shone. 6 THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS Here Blake and Job and Omar The author's meaning traced ; Here Virgil got his sweetness, And Arnold his unhaste. Here Horace learned to question, And Browning to reply, When Soul stood up on trial For her mortality. And all these lovely spirits Who read in the great book, Then went away in silence With their illumined look, Left comment, as time furnished A margin for their skill, — Their guesses at the secret Whose gist eludes us still. THE GREEN BOOK OF THE BARDS And Still in that green volume, With ardour and with youth Undaunted, my companions Are searching for the truth. One page, entitled Grand Pre, Has the idyllic air That Bion might have envied : I set a foot-note there. FIRST CROAKo Northward, crow, Croak and fly ! Tell her I Long to go, — • Only am Satisfied Where the wide Maples flame, Over those Hills of fir, Flooding her Morning snows. FIRST CROAK Thou shalt see Break and sing Days of spring, Dawning free. Northward, crow, Croak and fly, — Strive, or die Striving so ! Darker hearts. We, than some Who shall come When spring starts^ Well I see, You and I By and by Shall get freco lO FIRST CROAK Only now, Beat away As we may Best know how ! Never soar We, nor float ; But one note. And no more. Northward, crow, Croak and fly ! Would that I Too might go ! Lark or thrush Someday, you Up the blue Cleave the hush. II FIRST CROAK O the joy Then you feel, Who shall steal Or destroy ? Have not I Known how good, Field and wood. Stream and sky ? — Longed to free Soul in flight. Night by night. Tree to tree ? Northward, crow, Croak and fly You and I, — Striving, go. 12 FIRST CROAK Still though fail Singing, keep Croaking deep Strong and hale ! Flying straight, Soon we go Where the snow Tarries lat^i Yet the spring Is — how sweet ! Hark that beat ; Goldenwing ! Good for all Faint of heart. What a start In his call ! FIRST CROAK Northward, crow. Croak and fly, Though the sky Thunder No ! A SUPPLICATION, O April, angel of our mortal joy, Consoler of our human griefs and fears, Bringer of sunshine to this old grey earth, Hear once again the prayer of thy lone child, Return, return ! Mother of solace in the soft spring rain. Restorer of sane health to wounded souls. Ah, tarry not thy coming to our doors. But soon with twilight and the robin's voice. Return. Behold, across the borders of the world. We wait thy reappearance with the flowers. Disconsolate, dispirited, forlorn. Our only childish and perpetual prayer, " Return, return ! '* 15 APRIL WEATHER. Soon, ah, soon the April weather With the sunshine at the door. And the mellow melting rain-wind Sweeping from the South once more. Soon the rosy maples budding, And the willows putting forth, Misty crimson and soft yellow In the valleys of the North. Soon the hazy purple distance. Where the cabined heart takes wing, Eager for the old migration In the magic of the spring. i6 APRIL WEATHER Soon, ah, soon the budding windflowers Through the forest white and frail. And the odorous wild cherry Gleaming in her ghostly veil. Soon about the waking uplands The hepaticas in blue, — Children of the first warm sunlight In their sober Quaker hue, — All our shining little sisters Of the forest and the field. Lifting up their quiet faces With the secret half revealed. Soon across the folding twilight Of the round earth hushed to hear, The first robin at his vespers Calling far, serene and clear. 17 APRIL WEATHER Soon the waking and the summons, Starting sap in bole and blade, And the bubbling, marshy whisper Seeping up through bog and glade. Soon the frogs in silver chorus Through the night, from marsh and swale, Blowing in their tiny oboes All the joy that shall not fail, — Passing up the old earth rapture By a thousand streams and rills. From the red Virginian valleys To the blue Canadian hills. Soon, ah, soon the splendid impulse. Nomad longing, vagrant whim. When a man's false angels vanish And the truth comes back to him. i8 APRIL WEATHER Soon the majesty, the vision, And the old unfaltering dream. Faith to follow, strength to stablish, Will to venture and to seem ; All the radiance, the glamour. The expectancy and poise. Of this ancient life renewing Its temerities and joys. Soon the immemorial magic Of the young Aprilian moon. And the wonder of thy friendship In the twilight — soon, ah, soon ! i9 SPRING MAGIC. This morning soft and brooding In the warm April rain, The doors of sense are opened To set me free again. I pass into the colour And fragrance of the flowers, And melt with every bird-cry To haunt the mist-blue showersc I thrill in crimson quince-buds To raptures without name ; And in the yellow tulips Burn with a pure still flame. 90 SPRING MAGIC I blend with the soft shadows Of the young maple leaves, And mingle in the rain-drops That shine along the eaves. I lapse among the grasses That green the river's brink ; And with the shy wood creatures Go down at need to drink. I fade in silver music, Whose fine unnumbered notes The frogs and rainy fifers Blow from their reedy throats. No glory is too splendid To house this soul of mine, No tenement too lowly To serve it for a shrine. 21 SPRING MAGIC How is it we inherit This marvel of new birth, Sharing the ancient wonder And miracle of earth ? What wisdom, what enchantment, What magic of Green Fire, Could make the dust and water Obedient to desire ? Keep thou, by some large instinct, Unwasted, fair, and whole. The innocence of nature. The ardour of the soul ; And through the house of being Thou art at liberty To pass, enjoy, and linger, Inviolate and free. 22 THE ENCHANTRESS. Have you not seen a witch to-day Go dancing through the misty woods, Her mad young beauty hid beneath A tattered gown of crimson buds ? She gHnted through the alder swamp, And loitered by the willow stream. Then vanished down the wood-road dim. With bare brown throat and eyes a-dream. The wild white cherry is her flower. Her bird the flame-bright oriole ; She comes with freedom and with peace, And glad temerities of soul. 23 THE ENCHANTRESS Her lover is the great Blue Ghost, Who broods upon the world at noon, And wooes her wonder to his will At setting of the frail new moon. 24 THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR. Vermilion and ashen and azure, Pigment of leaf and wing, What will the sorceress Ishtar Make out of colour and spring ? Of old was she not Aphrodite, She who is April still, Mistress of longing and beauty. The sea, and the Hollow Hill ? Ashtoreth, Tanis, Astarte — A thousand names she has borne, Since the first new moon's white magic Was laid on a world forlorn. 25 THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR Odour of tulip and cherry, Scent of the apple blow, Tang of the wild arbutus — These to her crucible go. Honey of lilac and willow. The spoil of the plundering bees. Savour of sap from the maples — What will she do with these ? Oboe and flute in the forest. And pipe in the marshy ground. And the upland call of the flicker — What will she make of sound ? Start of the green in the meadow, Push of the seed in the mould. Burst of the bud into blossom — What will her cunning unfold ? 26 THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR The waning belt of Orion, The crescent zone of the moon — What is the mystic transport We shall see accomplished soon ? The sun and the rain and the South wind, With all the treasure they bring — What will the sorceress Ishtar Make from the substance of spring ? She will gather the blue and the scarlet. The yellow and crimson dye, And weave them into a garment Of magical texture and ply. And whoso shall wear that habit And favour of the earth. He shall be lord of his spirit, The creatures shall know his worth. 27 THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR She will gather the broken music, Fitting it chord by chord, Till the hearer shall learn the meaning, As a text that has been restored. She will gather the fragrance of lilacs, The scent of the cherry flower. And he who perceives it shall wonder. And know, and remember the hour. She will gather the moonlight and starshine. And breathe on them with desire. And they shall be changed on the moment To the marvel of earth's green fire, — The ardour that kindles and blights not, Consumes and does not destroy. Renewing the world with wonder. And the hearts of men with joy. 28 THE MADNESS OF I^HTAR For this is the purpose of Ishtar, In her great lone house of the sky, Beholding the work of her hands As it shall be by and by : Out of the passion and splendour, Faith, failure and daring, to bring The illumined dream of the spirit To perfection in some far spring. Therefore, shall we not obey her, — Awake and be glad and aspire, — Wise with the ancient knowledge. Touched with the earthly fire ? In the spell of the wild enchantment The shy wood creatures know, Must we not also with Ishtar Unhindered arise and go ? 29 THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR Hearing the call and the summons, Heeding the hint and the sign, Rapt in the flush and the vision. Shall we demur or repine ? Dare you deny one impulse. Dare I one joy suppress ? Knowing the might and dominion. The lure and the loveliness. Delirium, glamour, bewitchment. Bidding earth blossom and sing, Shall we falter or fail to follow The voice of our mother in spring ? For Love shall be clothed with beauty. And walk through the world again. Hearing the haunted cadence Of an immortal strain j 30 THE MADNESS OF ISHTAR Caring not whence he wandered, Fearing not whither he goes, Great with the fair new freedom That every earth-child knows ; Impetuous as the wood-wind, Ingenuous as a flower. Glad with the fulness of being. Born of the perfect hour j Counting not cost nor issue. Weighing not end and aim, Sprung from the clay-built cabin To powers that have no name. And with all his soul and body He shall only seek one thing ; For that is the madness of Ishtar, Which comes upon earth in spring. 31 A CREATURE CATECHISM. I. Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the sea ? Lord, said a flying fish^ Below the foundations of storm We feel the primal wish Of the earth take form. Through the dim green water-fire We see the red sun loom, And the quake of a new desire Takes hold on us down in the gloom. No more can the filmy drift Nor drafty currents buoy Our whim to its bent, nor lift Our heart to the height of its joy. 32 A CREATURE CATECHISM When sheering down to the Line Come polar tides from the North, Thy silver folk of the brine Must glimmer and forth. Down in the crumbling mill Grinding eternally, We are the type of thy will To the tribes of the sea. II. Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the air ? Lord, said a butterfly^ Out of a creeping thing, For days in the dust put by, The spread of a wing 33 A CREATURE CATECHISM Emerges with pulvll of gold On a tissue of green and blue, And there is thy purpose of old Unspoiled and fashioned anew. Ephemera, ravellings of sky And shreds of the Northern light, We age in a heart-beat and die Under the eaves of night. What if the small breath quail, Or cease at a touch of the frost ? Not a tremor of joy shall fail, Nor a pulse be lost. This fluttering life, never still, Survives to oblivion's despair. We are the type of thy will To the tribes of the air. 34 A CREATURE CATECHISM III. Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the field? Lord, said a maple seed^ Though well we are wrapped and bound, We are the first to give heed, When thy bugles give sound. We banner thy House of the Hills With green and vermilion and gold. When the floor of April thrills With the myriad stir of the mould. And her hosts for migration prepare. We too have the veined twin-wings. Vans for the journey of air. With the urge of a thousand springs 35 A CREATURE CATECHISM Pent for a germ in our side, We perish of joy, being dumb, That our race may be and abide For aeons to come. When rivulet answers to rill In snow-blue valleys unsealed. We are the type of thy will To the tribes of the field. IV. Soul^ what art thou in the tribes of the ground ? Lord, when the time is ripe, Said a frog through the quiet rain^ We take up the silver pipe For the pageant again. 36 A CREATURE CATECHISM When the melting wind of the South Is over meadow and pond, We draw the breath of thy mouth, Reviving the ancient bond. Then must we fife and declare The unquenchable joy of earth, — Testify hearts still dare. Signalise beauty's worth. Then must we rouse and blow On the magic reed once more. Till the glad earth-children know Not a thing to deplore. When rises the marshy trill To the soft spring night's profound, We are the type of thy will To the tribes of the ground. 37 A CREATURE CATECHISM V. Soul., what art thou in the tribes of the earth ? Lord, said an artist horn., We leave the city behind For the hills of open morn, For fear of our kind. Our brother they nailed to a tree For sedition ; they bully and curse All those whom love makes free. Yet the very winds disperse Rapture of birds and brooks. Colours of sea and cloud, — Beauty not learned of books, Truth that is never loud. J8 A CREATURE CATECHISM We model our joy into clay, Or help it with line and hue, Or hark for its breath in stray Wild chords and new. For to-morrow can only fulfil Dreams which to-day have birth ; We are the type of thy will To the tribes of the earth. 39 SURSUM CORD A. I. The wind on the sea^ The breath of God over the face of the deepy Whispers a word The tribes of his watery dominion rejoice having heard. To-day through the vaultless chambers Of the sea, below the range Of light's great beam to fathom, Soundless, unsearched of change. There passed more vague than a shadow Which is, then is no more. The aura and draft of being. Like a breath through an open door. 40 SURSUM CORDA The myriad fins are moving, The marvellous flanges play ; Herring and shad and menhaden^ They stir and awake and away. Ungava, Penobscot, Potomac, Key Largo and Fundy side. The droves of the frail sea people Are arun in the vernal tide. The old sea hunger to herd them. The old spring fever to drive. Within them the thrust of an impulse To wander and joy and thrive ; Below them the lift of the sea-kale, Before them the fate that shall be ; As it was when the first white summer Drew the fog from the face of the sea. 41 SURSUM CORDA II. The wind on the hills^ The breath of God over the tops of the trees^ TVhispers a word The tribes of his airy dominion rejoice having heard. Last night we saw the curtain Of the red aurora wave, Through the ungirdered heaven Built without joist or trave, Fleeting from silence to silence, As a mirror is stained by a breath, — The only sign from the Titan Sleeping in frosty death. 42 SURSUM CORDA Yet over the world this morning The old wise trick has been done ; Our legions of rovers and singers, Arrived and saluting the sun. The myriad wings atremble, The marvellous throats astrain, Come the airy migrant people In the wake of the purple rain. One joy that needs no bidding, One will that does not quail ; The whitethroat up from the barren. The starling down in the swale ; The honk and clamour of wild geese. The call of the goldenwing ; From valley to lonely valley. The long exultation of spring. 43 SURSUM CORDA III. The wind on the fields^ The breath of God over the face of the ground^ TVhispers a word The tribes of his leafy dominion rejoice having heard. Crimson of Indian willow, Orange of maple plume, As a web of endless pattern Falls from a soundless loom, The wide green marvel of summer Breaks from catkin and sheath, So silently only a spirit Could guess at the spirit beneath. 44 SURSUM CORDA For these are the moveless people, Who only abide and endure, Yet no less feel their heart beat To the lift of the wild spring lure. These are the keepers of silence, Who only adore and are dumb. With faith's own look of expecting The bidding they know will come. The revel of leaves is beginning. The riot of sap is astir ; Dogwood and peach and magnolia Have errands they will not defer. In the long sweet breath of the rainwind. In the warm, sweet hours of sun. They arise at the Sursum corda^ A thousand uplifted as one. 45 SURSUM CORDA IV. The wind in the street^ The breath of God over the roofs of the town^ PVhispers a word The tribes of the Wandering Shadow rejoice having heard. The tribes of the Wandering Shadow ! Ah, gypsying spirit of man, What tent hast thou, what solace, Since the nomad life began ? Forever, wherever the springtime Halts by the open door. The heart-sick are healed in the sunshine, The sorry are sad no more. 46 SURSUM CORDA Something brighter than morning Washes the windowpane ; Something wiser than knowledge Sits by the hearth again. Within him the sweet disquiet, Before him the old dismay, When the hand of Beauty beckons The wayfarer must away. " A brother to him who needs me, A son to her who needs; Modest and free and gentle ; " This is his creed of creeds. To-night when the belt of Orion Hangs in the linden bough, The girl will meet her lover Where the quince is crimson now. 47 SURSUM CORDA For the sun of a thousand winters Will stop his pendulous swing, Ere man be a misbeliever In the scarlet legend of spring. 48 THE WORD IN THE BE- GINNING. In principio erat verbutn. PRELUDE/ This is the sound of the Word From the waters of sleep, The rain-soft voice that was heard On the face of the deep, When the fog was drawn back like a veil, and the sentinel tides Were given their thresholds to keep. The South Wind said, " Come forth," And the West Wind said, " Go far ! " * Reprinted from Last Songs from Vagabondia with 'the courteous permission of Small, Maynard & Co. 49 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING And the silvery sea-folk heard, Where their weed tents are, From the long slow lift of the blue through the Carib keys, To the thresh on Sable bar. This is the Word that went by. Over sun-land and swale. The long Aprilian cry, Clear, joyous, and hale, When the summons went forth to the wild shy broods of the air. To bid them once more to the trail. The South Wind said, " Come forth," And the West Wind said, " Be swift ! " The fluttering sky-folk heard, And the warm dark thrift 50 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING Of the nomad blood revived, and they gathered for flight, By column and pair and drift. This is the sound of the Word From bud-sheath and blade, When the reeds and the grasses conferred, And a gold beam was laid At the taciturn doors of the forest, where tar- ried the sun, For a sign they should not be dismayed. The South Wind said, " Come forth," And the West Wind said, " Be glad ! " The abiding wood-folk heard. In their new green clad, Sanguine, mist-silver, and rose, while the sap in their veins Welled up as of old all unsad. THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING This is the Word that flew Over snow-marsh and glen, When the frost-bound slumberers knew, In tree-trunk and den. Their bidding had come, they questioned not whence nor why, — They reckoned not whither nor when. The South Wind said, " Come forth," And the West Wind said, "Be wise ! " The wintering ground-folk heard. Put the dark from their eyes. Put the sloth from sinew and thew, to wander and dare, — For ever the old surmise ! This is the Word that came To the spirit of Man, 52 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING And shook his soul like a flame In the breath of a fan, Till it burned as a light in his eyes, as a colour that grew And prospered under the tan. The South Wind said, " Come forth," And the West Wind said, " Be free ! " Then he rose and put on the new garb. And knew he should be The master of knowledge and joy, though sprung from the tribes Of the earth and the air and the sea. 53 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING I. THE WORD TO THE WATER PEOPLE. Who hath uttered the formless whisper, The rumour afloat on the tide, The need that speaks in the heart, The craving that will not bide ? For the word without shape is abroad. The vernal portent of change ; And from winter grounds, empty to-morrow, The fin-folk will gather and range. It runs in the purple currents, Swaying the idle weed ; It creeps by the walls of coral. Where the keels of the ebb recede ; 54 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING It calls in the surf above us, In thunder of reef and key. And where the green day filters Through soundless furlongs of sea. It moves where the moving sea-fans Shadow the white sea-floor ; It stirs where the dredging sand-runs Furrow and trench and score. In channel and cave it finds us. In the curve of the Windward Isles, In the sway of the heaving currents. In the run of the long sea-miles. In the green Floridian shallows, By marshes hot and rank. And below the reach of soundings Off the Great Bahaman Bank. 55 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING The tribes of the water people, Scarlet and yellow and blue, Are awake, for the old sea-magic Is on them to rove anew. They will ride in the great sea-rivers, And feed in the warm land streams. By cliffs where the gulls are nesting. By capes where the blue berg gleams. The fleet and shining thousands Will follow the trackless lead Of the bidding that rises in them. The old ancestral need. Will they mistrust or falter. Question or turn or veer ? Will they put off their harness of colour. Or their gaudy hues ungear ? 56 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING Eager, unwasted, undaunted, They go and they go. They have heard The lift of the faint strong summons, The lure of the watery word. II. THE WORD TO THE PEOPLE OF THE AIR. Who hath uttered the wondrous hearsay, The rumour abroad on the air. The tribal journey summons, The signal to flock and fare ? Who hath talked to the shy bird-people. And counselled the feathered breast To follow the sagging rain-wind Over the purple crest ? 57 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING O tribes of the silver whistle, And folk of the azure wing, Who hath revived in a night The magic tradition of spring ? By shores of the low Gulf Islands, Where the steaming lands emerge. By reefs of the Dry Tortugas, Drenched by the crumbling surge, From the hot and drowsy shallows Of the silent Everglades, From creamy coral beaches In the breath of the Northeast Trades, We have heard, without note or warble, Quaver or chirp or trill, The far and soft-blown tidings Sumrtvon from hill to hill. 58 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING Up from the blue horizon, By canyon and ridge and plain, Where ride in misty columns The spearmen of the rain. The broods of the light air-people Will bevy and team and throng. To fill the April valleys With gurgle and lisp and song. They know where the new green leafage Spreads like the sweep of day, Over the low Laurentians And up through the Kootenay. They know where the nests are waiting. And the icy ponds are thawed. For the stir and the sight are on them. Moving the legions abroad. 59 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING The oriole under Monadnoc Will cast his golden spells ; In deep Ontarian meadows The reed-bird will loose his bells ; The thrushes will flute over Grand Pre, The quail by the Manomet shore, The wild drake feed in the bogan, The swallow come back to the door. Tanager, robin, and sparrow. Grosbeak, warbler and wren. The children of gladness gather In clearing and grove and fen For the bright primeval summer, In their slumbering heart having heard A strain of the great Resurgam^ A call of the airy word. 60 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING III. THE WORD TO PEOPLE OF THE WOOD Who hath uttered the leafy whisper, The rumour that stirs the bough, That mounts with the sap, and flushes The buds with beauty now ? None hath report of the message, No single authentic word ; Yet the tribes of the wood are stirring At the tidings they have heard. To-day will the pear-trees blossom And the yellow jasmine vines. Where the soft Gulf winds are surfing In the dreamy Georgian pines. 6i THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING To-morrow the peach and the redbud Will join in the woodland pomp, Floating their crimson banners By smoky ridge and swamp ; And the gleaming white magnolias, In many a city square, Will unfold in the heavenly leisure Of the kindly Southern air. Next day over grey New England The magic of spring will go, Touching her marshes with yellow, Her hills with a purple glow. Then the maple buds will break In an orange mist once more. Through lone Canadian valleys. From Baranov to Bras d'Or. 62 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING And where the snowdrifts vanish From the floor of their piney home, Hepatica and arbutus, The shy wood-children, will come. The elms on the meadow islands Will shadow the rustling sedge. The orchards reveal the glory Of earth by dike and ledge ; The birch will unsheathe her tassels, The willow her silver plume. When the green hosts encamp By lake and river and flume. For the tides of joy are running North with the sap and the sun. And the tribes of the wood are arrayed In their splendour one by one. 63 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING Not one unprepared nor reluctant, With ardour unspent they have heard A note of the woodland music, A breath of the wilding word. IV. THE WORD TO THE PEOPLE OF THE GROUND. Who hath uttered the faint earth-whisper. The rumour that spreads over ground. The sign that is hardly a signal. The sense that is scarcely sound ? Yet listen, the earth is awake. The magic of April is here ; The all but unobserved signal Is answered from far and near. 64 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING Go forth in the morning and listen, For the coming of life is good ; The lapsing of ice in the rivers, The lisping of snow in the wood. The murmur of streams in the mountains, The babble of brooks in the hills. And the sap of gladness running To waste from a thousand stills. Go forth in the noonday and listen ; A soft multitudinous stir Betrays the new life that is moving In the houses of oak and fir. A red squirrel chirps in the balsam ; A fox barks down in the clove ; The bear comes out of his tree-bole To sun himself, rummage and rove. 65 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING In the depth of his wilderness fastness The beaver comes forth from his mound, And the tiny creatures awake From their long winter sleep under ground. Go forth in the twilight and listen To that music fine and thin, When the myriad marshy pipers Of the April night begin. Through reed-bed and swamp and shallow The heart of the earth grows bold, And the spheres in their golden singing Are answered on flutes of gold. One by one, down in the meadow. Or up by the river shore. The frail green throats are unstopped. And inflated with joy once more. 66 THE WORD IN THE BEGINNING O heart, canst thou hear and hearken, Yet never an answer bring, When thy brothers, the frogs in the valley, Go mad with the burden of spring ? So the old ardours of April Revive in her creatures to-day — The knowledge that does not falter, The longing that will not stay. And the love that abides. Undoubting, In the deeps of their ken they have heard The ancient unwritten decretal, The lift of the buoyant word. 67 FROM AN OLD RITUAL. O dwellers in the dust, arise, My little brothers of the field. And put the sleep out of your eyes ! Your death-doom is repealed. Lift all your golden faces now. You dandelions in the ground ! You quince and thorn and apple bough, Your foreheads are unbound. O dwellers in the frost, awake. My little brothers of the mould ! It is the time to forth and slake Your being as of old. 68 FROM AN OLD RITUAL You frogs and newts and creatures small In the pervading urge of spring, Who taught you in the dreary fall To guess so glad a thing ? From every swale your watery notes, Piercing the rainy cedar lands. Proclaim your tiny silver throats Are loosened of their bands. O dwellers in the desperate dark, My brothers of the mortal birth, Is there no whisper bids you mark The Easter of the earth ? Let the great flood of spring's return Float every fear away, and know We are all fellows of the fern And children of the snow. 69 FELLOW TRAVELLER S« Green are the buds of the snowball. And green are the little birds That come to fill my branches Full of their gentle words. What Is it, tiny brothers ? What are you trying to say Over and over and over. In your broken-hearted way ? Have you, too, darkling rumours In your sweet vagrancy, — News of a vast encounter Of storm and night and sea ? 70 ^ THE FIELD BY THE SEA. On a grey day by the sea, I looked from the window and saw The beautiful companies of the daisies bow And toss in the gusty flaw. For the wind was in from sea ; The heavy scuds ran low ; And all the makers of holiday were abashed, Caught in the easterly blow. My heart, too, is a field, Peopled with shining forms, Beautiful as the companies of the grass, And herded by swift grey storms. 71 THE FIELD BY THE SEA A thousand shapes of joy, Sunlit and fair and wild, — All the bright dreams that make the heart of a man As the heart of a little child, — They dance to the rune of the world, The star-trodden ageless rune, Glad as the wind-blown multitudes of the grass, White as the daisies in June. But oveir them, ah, what storms, — In from the unknown sea. The uncharted and ever-sounding desolate main We have called Eternity ! They shudder and quake and are torn, As the stormy moods race by. And then in the teeth of remorse, the tempes- tuous lull. Once more the hardy cry : 72 THE FIELD BY THE SEA " Fear not, little folk of my heart, Nor let the great hope in you fail ! Being children of light, ye are made as the flowers of the grass. To endure and survive and prevail." 73 THE DANCERS OF THE FIELD. The wind went combing through the grass, The tall white daisies rocked and bowed j Such ecstasy as never was Possessed the shining multitude. They turned their faces to the sun, And danced the radiant morn away ; Of all his brave eye looked upon. His daughters of delight were they. And when the round and yellow moon. Like a pale petal of the dusk Blown loose above the sea-rim shone. They gave me no more need to ask 74 THE DANCERS OF THE FIELD How immortality is named ; For I remembered like a dream How ages since my spirit flamed To wear their guise and dance with them. 75 THE BREATH OF THE REED. / heard the rushes in the twilight, I overheard them at the dusk of day. Make me thy priest, O Mother, And prophet of thy mood. With all the forest wonder Enraptured and imbued. Be mine but to interpret, Follow nor misemploy. The doubtful books of silence, The alphabet of joy. A pipe beneath thy fingers, Blown by thy lips in spring With the old madness, urging Shy foot and furtive wing. 76 THE BREATH OF THE REED A reed wherein the life-note Is fluted clear and high, Immortal and unmeasured, — No more than this am I. Delirious and plangent, I quiver to thy breath ; Thy fingers keep the notches From discord and from death. Unfaltering, unflagging. Comes the long, wild refrain, With ardours of the April In woodnotes of the rain. Be mine the merest inkling Of what the shore larks mean, And what the gulls are crying The wind whereon they lean. 77 THE BREATH OF THE REED Teach me to close the cadence Of one brown forest bird, Who opens so supremely, Then falters for thy word. One hermit thrush entrancing The solitude with sound, — Give me the golden gladness Of music so profound. So leisurely and orbic. Serene and undismayed, He runs the measure over, Perfection still delayed. No hurry nor annoyance ; Enough for him, to try The large few notes of prelude Which put completion by. 78 THE BREATH OF THE REED In ages long hereafter His heritor may learn What meant those pregnant pauses, And that unfinished turn. So one shall read thy world-runes To find them all one day Parts of a single motive, Scored in an ancient way. Till then, be mine to master One phrase in all that strain, — - The dominance of beauty. The transiency of pain, As swayed by tides of dreaming. Or bowed by gusts of thought, A reed within the river, I waver and am naught. 79 POPPIES. I who walk among the poppies In the burning hour of noon, Brother to their scarlet beauty, Feel their fervour and their swoon. In this little wayside garden. Under the sheer tent of blue, The dark kindred in forgetting, We are of one dust and dew. They, the summer-loving gipsies. Who frequent the Northern year ; From an older land than Egypt, I, too, but a nomad here. 80 POPPIES All day long the purple mountains, Those mysterious conjurors, Send, in silent premonition. Their still shadows by our doors. And we listen through the silence For a far-ofF sound, which seems Like the long reverberant echo Of a sea-shell blown in dreams. Is it the foreboded summons From the fabled Towers of Sleep, Bidding home the wandered children From the shore of the great deep ? All day long the sun-filled valley. Teeming with its ghostly thought, Glad in the mere lapse of being, Muses and is no*" distraught. bi POPPIES Then suffused with earth's contentment, The slow patience of the sun, As our heads are bowed to slumber In the shadows one by one, Sweet and passionless, the starlight Talks to us of things to be ; And we stir a little, shaken In the cool breath of the sea. 82 COMPENSATION. Not a word from the poplar-tree here on the hill ? Not a word from the stream in the bight of the clove ? Not a word from trail, clearing, or forest, to tell Their brother returned, how all winter they throve ? The old mountain ledges lay purple in June ; The green mountain walls arose hazy and dark ; I saw, heard, and loved all their beauty anew. But the soul in my body lay deaf, blind, and stark. " O, Mother Natura, whom most with full heart. Boy, stripling, and man, I have loved, dost thou leave 83 COMPENSATION Unanswered thy suppliant, troubled thy son, — To longing no respite, to doom no reprieve ? " Days, weeks, and months passed. Not a whis- per outbroke. Not a word to be caught, not a hint to be had, By the soul from the world there, all leisure and sun In perfection of summer, warm, waiting, and glad! The rosebreasted grosbeak his triumph pro- claimed ; The veery his wildest enchantment renewed ; And yet the old ardours not once were relit. Nor the heart as of old with wild magic imbued. Until on an evening unlooked for, " O Son," — Said the stream in the clove, spoke the wind on the hill ? 84 COMPENSATION Did a bird in his sleep find the lost ancient tongue, Universal and clear, with the shadowy thrill Mere language has never yet uttered ? — " O Son, Was thy heart cold with doubt, hesitation, dismay. Or hot with resentment, because, as it seemed, For awhile it must journey alone and away ? " All winter the torrent must sleep under snow ; All winter ash, poplar, and beech must endure ; All winter thy rapturous brothers, the birds. Must be silent. Are they, then, downcast or unsure ? " Nay, I but give them their seasons and times. Their moments of joy and their measure of rest i 85 COMPENSATION They keep the great rhythm of Ufe's come and go, The unwearied repose, the unhurrying zest. " With April I Hfted them, bade longings be ; With June I have plenished their heart to the brim. Will they question when over the world I have spread The scarlet of autumn with frost at the rim ? " Behold, while vexation was filling thy days, Thy deeper self, resting unmindful of harms, (With who knows what dreams of the splendid and true To be compassed at length !) lay asleep in my arms." 86 COMPENSATION The moonlight, mysterious, stately, and blue, Lay out on the great mountain wall, deep and still ; Far below the stream talked to itself in the clove ; The poplar-tree talked to itself on the hill. 87 THE SPELL. I hung a string of verses Against my cabin wall. What think you was the fortune They prayed might me befall ? Not fame nor health nor riches To tarry at my door, But that my vanished sweetheart Might visit me once more. Out of the moted day-dream Among the boding firs, They prayed she might remember The lover that was hers. THE SPELL They prayed the gates of silence A moment might unclose, The hour before the hill-crest Is flushed with solemn rose. prayers of mortal longing, What latch can ye undo ? What comrade once departed Ever returned for you ? All day with tranquil spirit 1 kept my cabin door. In wonder at the beauties I had not seen before. I slept the dreamless slumber Of happiness again ; And when I woke, the thrushes Were singing in the rain. 89 A FOREST SHRINE. When you hear that mellow whistle In the beeches unespied, Footfall soft as down of thistle Turn aside ! That's our golden hermit singer In his leafy house and dim, Where God's utterances linger Yet for him. Built out of the firmamental Shafts of rain and beams of sun, Norse and Greek and Oriental Here are one. 90 A FOREST SHRINE Gothic oak and Latin laurel Here but sentry that wild gush Of wood-music with their aural Calm and hush. From those hanging airy arches Soars the azure roof of June, While among the feathery larches Hangs the moon. Through that unfrequented portal, When the twilight winds are low. Messengers of things immortal Come and go ; Whispers of a rumour hidden From slow reason, and revealed To the child of beauty bidden Far afield ; 91 A FOREST SHRINE Hints of rapture rare and splendid Furnished to the heart of man, As if, where mind's journey ended, Soul's began ; As if, when we sighed, " No farther ! Here our knowledge pales and thins ; " One had answered us, " Say rather, ' Here begins.' " Argue me, " There is no gateway In this great wall we explore," Till there comes a bird-note ; straight- way. There's the door ! Enter here, thou beauty-lover. The domain where soul resides ; Ingress thought could not discover, Sense provides. 92 A FOREST SHRINE Ponder long and build at leisure, Architect ; yet canst thou rear Such a house for such a treasure As is here ? Leader of the woods and brasses, Master of the winds and strings. Hast thou music that surpasses His who sings ? You who lay cold proof's embargos On all wonder-working, tell Whence those fine reverberant largos Sink and swell ! Hark, that note of limpid glory Melts into the old earth-strain. And begins the woodland story Once again. 93 A FOREST SHRINE Hark that transport of contentment Blown into a mellow reed, Wild, yet tranquil — soul's preventment Of soul's need. There the master voluntaries On his pipe of greenish gold ; The wise theme whereon he varies, Never old. What do we with those who grieve them O'er the fevers of the mind ? Beauty's follower will leave them Far behind. As the wind among the rushes. Were it not enough to know The sure joyance of the thrushes ? Even so. 94 AMONG THE ASPENS. I. THE LOST WORD. The word of the wind to the aspens I listened all day to hear ; But over the hill or down in the swale He vanished as I drew near. I asked of the quaking shadows, I questioned the shy green bird ; But the falling river bore away The secret I would have heard. Then I turned to my forest cabin In a clove of the Kaaterskill ; And at dead of night, when the fire was low, The whisper came to my sill. 95 AMONG THE ASPENS Now I know there will haunt me ever That word of the ancient tongue, Whose golden meaning, half divined, Was lost when the world was young. I know I must seek and seek it, Through the wide green earth and round, Though I come in ignorance at last To the place of the Grassy Mound. Yet it may be I shall find it. If I keep the patience mild. The pliant faith, the eager mind, And the heart of a little child. 96 AMONG THE ASPENS II. LEAF TO LEAF. You know how aspens whisper Without a breath of air ! I overheard one lisper Yesterday declare, " When all the woods are sappy And the sweet winds arrive, My dancing leaves are happy Just to be alive." And presently another. With that laconic stir We take to be each other^ Spoke and answered her. 97 AMONG THE ASPENS " When the great frosts shall splinter Our brothers oak and pine. In the long night of winter Glad fortitude be thine ! " And where the quiet river Runs by the quiet hill, I heard the aspens shiver, Though all the air was still. III. THE PASSER BY. Said Aspen Heart to Quaking Leaf, " Who goes by on the hill, That you should tremble at dead of noon When the whole earth is still ? " 98 AMONG THE ASPENS Said Quaking Leaf to Aspen Heart, " A loneliness drew nigh, And fear was on us, when we heard The mountain rain go by." Said Aspen Heart to Quaking Leaf, " Who went by on the hill ? The rain was but your old grey nurse Crossing the granite sill." Said Quaking Leaf to Aspen Heart, " There was a ghostly sigh. And frosty hands were laid on us, As the lone fog went by." Said Aspen Heart to Quaking Leaf, " But who went by on the hill ? The white fogs were your playfellows. And your companions still." L.urCi 99 AMONG THE ASPENS Said Quaking Leaf to Aspen Heart, " We shook, I know not why. Huddled together when we saw A passing soul go by." IV. THE QUESTION. I wondered who Kept pace with me, as I wandered through The mountain gorges blue. I said to the aspen leaves. The timorous garrulous tribe of the forest folk, " Who people the wilderness. When the wind is away, And sparrow and jay Keep silence of noon on a summer day ? " 100 AMONG THE ASPENS And the leaves replied, "You must question our brother the rain of the mountain-side." Then I said to the rain, The fleeing silvery multitudes of the rain, " Who people the wilderness, When the noon is still. And valley and hill Feel their pulses slow to the summer's will ? " And the rain replied, " You must ask our brother the fog on the outward tide." Then I said to the fog. The ancient taciturn companies of the sea-mist, " Who people the loneliness When your hordes emerge lOI AMONG THE ASPENS On the grey sea verge, And the wind begins his wailing dirge ? " And the fog replied, " Inquire of that inquisitor at your side." Then I asked myself. But he knew. If report of sense be true. No more than you. V. A SENTRY. All summer my companion Was a white aspen-tree, Far up the sheer blue canyon, A glad door-ward for me. 102 AMONG THE ASPENS There at the cabin entry. Where beauty went and came, Abode that quiet sentry, Who knew the winds by name. And when to that lone portal, All the clear starlight through. Came news of things immortal No mortal ever knew. That vigilant unweary Kept solitary post. And heard the woodpipes eery Of a fantastic host, Play down the wind in sadness. Play up the wind in glee, — The ancient lyric madness. The joy that is to be. 103 AMONG THE ASPENS They passed ; the music ended ; And through those rustling leaves The morning sun descended, With peace about my eaves. 104 THE GREEN DANCERS. When the Green Dance of summer Goes up the mountain clove, There is another dancer Who follows it for love. To the sound of falling water, Processional and slow The children of the forest With waving branches go ; And to the wilding music Of winds that loiter by. By trail, ravine and stream-bed. Troop up against the sky. los THE GREEN DANCERS The bending yellow birches, The beeches cool and tall, Slim ash and flowering locust, My gipsy knows them all. And light of foot she follows, And light of heart gives heed. Where in the blue-green chasm The wraiths of mist are freed. For when the young winged maples Hang out their rosy pods. She knows it is a message From the primeval gods. When tanager and cherry Show scarlet in the sun, She slips her careworn habit To put their gladness on, 1 06 THE GREEN DANCERS And where the chestnuts flower Along the mountain-side, She, too, assumes the vesture And beauty of their pride. She hears the freshening music That ushers in their day, When from the hemlock shadows The silver thrushes play. When the blue moth at noonday Lies breathing with his wings. She knows what piercing woodnote Across the silence rings. And when the winds of twilight Flute up the ides of June, Where Kaaterskill goes plainward Under a virgin moon, 107 THE GREEN DANCERS My wild mysterious spirit For joy cannot be still, But with the woodland dancers Must worship as they will. From rocky ledge to summit Where lead the dark-tressed firs, Under the open starshine Their festival is hers. She sees the moonlit laurel Spread through the misty gloom (The soul of the wild forest Veiled in a mesh of bloom). Then to the lulling murmur Of leaves she, too, will rest. Curtained by northern streamers Upon some dark hill-crest. 1 08 THE GREEN DANCERS And Still, in glad procession And solemn bright array, A dance of gold-green shadows About her sleep will play ; Her signal from the frontier. There is no bar nor toll Nor dearth of joy forever To stay the gipsy soul. 109 THE WIND AT THE DOOR. Often to my open door Comes a twilight visitor. When the mountain summer day From our valley takes his way, And the journeying shadows stride Over the green mountain-side, Down the clove among the trees Moves the ghostly wandering breeze. With the first stars on the crest And the pale light in the west. no THE WIND AT THE DOOR He comes up the dark ravine Where no traveller is seen. Yet his coming makes a stir In the house of Ash and Fir : " Master, is't in our abode You will tarry on the road ? " " Nay, I like your roof-tree well, But with you I may not dwell." Birches whisper at their sill, As he passes up the hill : " Stranger, underneath our boughs There is ample room to house." " Friends, I have another quest Than your cool abiding rest." Ill THE WIND AT THE DOOR And the fluttering Aspen knows Whose step by her doorway goes : " Honour, Lord, thy silver tree And the chamber laid for thee." " Nay, I must be faring on. For to-night I seek my own. " Breath of the red dust is he And a wayfarer like me ; " Here a moment and then lost On a trail confused and crossed. " And I gently would surprise Recognition in his eyes ; " Touch his hand and talk with him When the forest light is dim, 112 THE WIND AT THE DOOR " Taking counsel with the lord Of the utterable word." Hark, did you hear some one try The west window furtively, And then move among the leaves In the shadow of the eaves ? The reed curtain at the door Rustled ; there's my visitor Who comes searching for his kin. " Enter, brother ; I'm within." "3 AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF. The falling leaf is at the door ; The autumn wind is on the hill ; Footsteps I have heard before Loiter at my cabin sill. Full of crimson and of gold Is the morning in the leaves ; And a stillness pure and cold Hangs about the frosty eaves. The mysterious autumn haze Steals across the blue ravine, Like an Indian ghost that strays Through his olden lost demesne. 114 AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF Now the goldenrod invades Every clearing in the hills ; The dry glow of August fades. And the lonely cricket shrills. Yes, by every trace and sign The good roving days are here. Mountain peak and river line Float the scarlet of the year. Lovelier than ever now Is the world I love so well. Running water, waving bough. And the bright wind's magic spell Rouse the taint of migrant blood With the fever of the road, — Impulse older than the flood Lurking in its last abode. "5 AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF Did I once pursue your way, Little brothers of the air, Following the vernal ray ? Did I learn my roving there ? Was it on your long spring rides, Little brothers of the sea. In the dim and peopled tides. That I learned this vagrancy ? Now the yellow of the leaf Bids away by hill and plain, I shall say good-bye to grief, Way fellow with joy again. The glamour of the open door Is on me, and I would be gone, — Speak with truth or speak no more. House with beauty or with none. ii6 AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF Great and splendid, near and far, Lies the province of desire ; Love the only silver star Its discoverers require. I shall lack nor tent nor food. Nor companion in the way. For the kindly solitude Will provide for me to-day. Few enough have been my needs ; Fewer now they are to be ; Where the faintest follow leads, There is heart's content for me. Leave the bread upon the board ; Leave the book beside the chair ; With the murmur of the ford. Light of spirit I shall fare. ai? AT THE YELLOW OF THE LEAF Leave the latch-string in the door, And the pile of logs to burn ; Others may be here before I have leisure to return. u8 THE SILENT WAYFELLOW To-day when the birches are yellow, And red is the wayfaring tree, Sit down in the sun, my soul. And talk of yourself to me ! Here where the old blue rocks Bask in the forest shine. Dappled with shade and lost In their reverie divine. How goodly and sage they are ! Priests of the taciturn smile Rebuking our babble and haste. Yet loving us all the while. 119 THE SILENT WAYFELLOW In the asters the wild gold bees Make a warm busy drone, Where our Mother at Autumn's door Sits warming her through to the bone. The filmy gossamer threads Are hung from the black fir bough, Changing from purple to green — The half-shut eye knows how. What is your afterthought When a red leaf rustles down, Or the chickadees from the hush Challenge a brief renown ? When silence falls again Asleep on hillside and crest. Resuming her ancient mood. Do you still say, " Life is best ? " 120 THE SILENT WAYFELLOW Was this reticence of yours By the terms of being imposed ? One would say that you dwelt With shutters always closed. We have been friends so long, And yet not a single word Of yourself, your kith or kin Or home, have I ever heard. Nightly we sup and part. Daily you come to my door ; Strange we should be such mates. Yet never have talked before. A cousin to downy-feather. And brother to shining-fin. Am I, of the breed of earth. And yet of an alien kin. 121 THE SILENT WAYFELLOW Made from the dust of the road And a measure of silver rain, To follow you brave and glad, Unmindful of plaudit or pain. Dear to the mighty heart. Born of her finest mood. Great with the impulse of joy, With the rapture of life imbued, Radiant moments are yours. Glimmerings over the verge Of a country where one day Our forest trail shall emerge. When the road winds under a ledge. You keep the trudging pace, Till it mounts a shoulder of hill To the open sun and space. 122 THE SILENT WAYFELLOW Ah, then you dance and go, Illumined spirit again. Child of the foreign tongue And the dark wilding strain ! In these October days Have you glimpses hid from me Of old-time splendid state In a kingdom by the sea ? Is it for that you smile. Indifferent to fate and fame. Enduring this nomad life Contented without a name ? Through the long winter dark. When slumber is at my sill. Will you leave me dreamfast there. For your journey over the hill ? tz3 THE SILENT WAYFELLOW To-night when the forest trees Gleam in the frosty air, And over the roofs of men Stillness is everywhere, By the cold hunter's moon What trail will you take alone. Through the white realms of sleep To your native land unknown ? Here while the birches are yellow, And red is the wayfaring tree. Sit down in the sun, my soul. And talk of yourself to me. IS4 PICTOR IGNOTUS. He is a silent second self Who travels with me in the road ; I share his lean-to in the hills. He shares my modest town abode. Under the roof-tree of the world We keep the gipsy calendar, As the revolving seasons rise Above the tree-tops, star by star. We watch the arctic days burn down Upon the hearthstone of the sun. And on the frozen river floors The whispering snows awake and run. 125 PICTOR IGNOTUS Then in the still, portentous cold Of a blue twilight, deep and large. We see the northern bonfires lit Along the world's abysmal marge. He watches, with a love untired. The white sea-combers race to shore Below the mossers' purple huts. When April goes from door to door. He haunts the mountain trails that wind To sudden outlooks from grey crags. When marches up the blue ravine September with her crimson flags. The wonder of an ancient awe Takes hold upon him when he sees In the cold autumn dusk arise Orion and the Pleiades ; 126 PICTOR IGNOTUS Or when along the southern rim Of the mysterious summer night He marks, above the sleeping world, Antares with his scarlet light. The creamy shadow -fretted streets Of some small Caribbean town, Where through the soft wash of the trades The brassy tropic moon looks down ; The palm-trees whispering to the blue That surfs along the coral key ; The brilliant shining droves that fleet Through the bright gardens of the sea. The crimson-boled Floridian pines Glaring in sunset, where they stand Lifting their sparse, monotonous lines Out of the pink and purple sand ; 127 PICTOR IGNOTUS The racing Fundy tides that brim The level dikes ; the orchards there ; And the slow cattle moving through That marvellous Acadian airj The city of the flowery squares, With the Potomac by her door; The monument that takes the light Of evening by the river shore ; The city of the Gothic arch, That overlooks a wide green plain From her grey churches, and beholds The silver ribbon of the Seine ; The Indian in his birch canoe, The flower-seller in Cheapside ; Wherever in the wide round world The Likeness and the Word abide ; 128 PICTOR IGNOTUS He scans and loves the human book, With that reserved and tranquil eye That watched among the autumn hills The golden leisured pomp go by. What wonder, since with lavish hand Kind earth has given him her all Of love and beauty, he should be A smiling, thriftless prodigal ! 129 EPHEMERON. Ah, brother, it is bitter cold in here This time of year ! December is a sorry month indeed For your frail August breed. I find you numb this morning on the pane, Searching in vain A little warmth to thaw those airy vans. Arrested in their plans. I breathe on you ; and lo, with lurking might Those members slight Revive and stir ; the little human breath Dissolves their frosty death. 130 EPHEMERON You trim those quick antennae as of old, Forget the cold, And spread those stiffened sails once more to dare The elemental air. Does that thin deep, unmarinered and blue. Come back to you, Dreaming of ports whose bearing you have lost, Where cruised no pirate frost ? Ah, shipmate, there'll be two of us some night, In ghostly plight. In cheerless latitudes beyond renown, When the long frost shuts down. What if that day, in unexpected guise, Strong, kind, and wise. Above me should the great Befriender bow, As I above you now, — 13X EPHEMERON Reset the ruined time-lock of the heart, And bid it start, And every frost-bound joint and valve restore To supple play once more ! 132 THE HERETIC. One day as I sat and suffered A long discourse upon sin^ At the door of my heart I listened^ And heard this speech within. One whisper of the Holy Ghost Outweighs for me a thousand tomes ; And I must heed that private word, Not Plato's, Swedenborg's, nor Rome'Sc The voice of beauty and of power Which came to the beloved John, In age upon his lonely isle, That voice I will obey, or none. 133 THE HERETIC Let not tradition fill my ears With prate of evil and of good, Nor superstition cloak my sight Of beauty with a bigot's hood. Give me the freedom of the earth, The leisure of the light and air. That this enduring soul some part Of their serenity may share ! The word that lifts the purple shaft Of crocus and of hyacinth Is more to me than platitudes Rethundering from groin and plinth. And at the first clear, careless strain Poured from a woodbird's silver throat, I have forgotten all the lore The preacher bade me get by rote. 134 THE HERETIC Beyond the shadow of the porch I hear the wind among the trees, The river babbling in the clove, And that great sound that is the sea's. Let me have brook and flower and bird For counsellors, that I may learn The very accent of their tongue. And its least syllable discern. For I, my brother, so would live That I may keep the elder law Of beauty and of certitude. Of daring love and blameless awe. Be others worthy to receive The naked messages of God ; I am content to find their trace Among the people of the sod. 135 THE HERETIC The gold-voiced dwellers of the wood Flute up the morning as I pass ; And in the dusk I lay me down With star-eyed children of the grass. I harken for the winds of spring, And haunt the marge of swamp and stream, Till in the April night I hear The revelation of the dream. I listen when the orioles Come up the earth with early June, And the old apple-orchards spread Their odorous glories to the moon. So I would keep my natural days, By sunlit sea, by moonlit hill. With the dark beauty of the earth Enchanted and enraptured still. 136 AFTER SCHOOL. When all my lessons have been learned, And the last year at school is done, I shall put up my books and games ; " Good-by, my fellows, every one ! " The dusty road will not seem long. Nor twilight lonely, nor forlorn The everlasting whippoorwills That lead me back where I was born. And there beside the open door, In a large country dim and cool. Her waiting smile shall hear at last, " Mother, I am come home from school." 137 Copyright, 1902, by The Ess Ess Publishing Company (Incorporated) Copyright, 1902, 1903, by AiNSLEE Magazine Company Copyright, 1894, 1895, by The Town Topics Publishing Company Copyright, 1903, by J. B. LiPPiNCOTT Company Copyright, 1903, by L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated) Published, October, 1903 Colonial '^xtss Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. Boston, Mass., U. S. A. TO CONTENTS Prelude I. There is a wise Magician . II. The day is lost without thee III. Thou art the sense and semblance . IV. Thou art the pride and passion . V. In the door of the house of life VI. Love, by that loosened hair VII. Once more in every tree-top VIII. Under the greening willow IX. Dear, what hast thou to do X. As sudden winds that freak XI. As down the purple of the night XII. In the Kingdom of Bootes XIII. Look, love, along the low hills . XIV. The rain-wind from the East XV. O purple-black are the wet quince boughs XVI. An unseen hand went over the hill . XVII. The very sails are singing . XVIII. Where the blue comes down to the brine XIX. As if the sea's eternal rote XX. O wind and stars, I am with you now XXI. All the zest of all the ages XXII. Eyes like the blue-green XXIII. Crimson bud, crimson bud vii Page I 5 6 7 9 II 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 22 24 26 27 28 29 30 31 33 35 37 CONTENTS XXIV. We wandered through the soft spring days ...... XXV. You pipers in the swales XXVI. To-night I hear the rainbirds XXVII. Lord of the vasty tent of heaven . XXVIII. In the cool of dawn I rose . XXIX. Up from the kindled pines . XXX. The skiey shreds of rain XXXI. On the meridian of the night XXXII. Love, lift your longing face up through the rain ! XXXIII. Swing down, great sun, swing down XXXIV. The world is a golden calyx . XXXV. Eyes like summer after sundown . XXXVI. The sun is lord of a manor fair . XXXVII. In God's blue garden the flowers are cold XXXVIII. First by her starry gaze that falls XXXIX. The alchemist who throws his worlds XL. Thy mouth is a snow apple . XLI. As orchards in an apple land XLII. Noon on the marshes and noon on the hills XLII I. Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your hands !..... XLIV. Wait for me, Cherrychild, when the blue dusk ..... XLV. Summer love, open your eyes to me now! ...... XLVI. Through what strange garden ran Page 39 41 42 44 45 48 SI 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 ^3 64 65 66 67 68 CONTENTS XLVII. Let the red dawn surmise XLVIII. A breath upon my face XLIX. I was a reed in the stilly stream . L. I was the west wind over the garden LI. A touch of your hair, and my heart was furled .... LII. In the land of kisses LIII. I think the sun when he turns at night LIV. I see the golden hunter go . LV. You old men with frosty beards . LVI. It was the tranquil hour LVII. The mountain ways one summer . LVIII. Poppy, you shall live forever LIX. I loved you when the tide of prayer LX. Once of a Northern midnight LXI. The forest leaves were all asleep . LXII. There sighed along the garden path LXIII. And then I knew the first vague bliss LXIV. I knew, by that diviner sense LXV. A moon-white moth against the moon LXVI. What is it to remember ? LXVII. She had the fluttering eyelids LXVIII. The land lies full, from brim to brim LXIX. In the blue opal of a winter noon LXX. Far hence in the infinite silence . LXXI. Of the whole year, I think, I love LXXII, At night upon the mountains LXXIII. Once more the woods grow crimson LXXIV. Once when the winds of spring came home Page 70 71 73 75 76 11 78 79 80 81 83 84 86 88 90 92 94 96 97 98 99 lOI 102 103 105 107 109 no IX CONTENTS LXXV. LXXVI. LXXVII. LXXVIII. LXXIX. LXXX. LXXXI. LXXXII. LXXXIII. LXXXIV. LXXXV. LXXXVI. LXXXVII. LXXXVIII. LXXXIX. xc. XCI. XCII. XCIII. XCIV. xcv. XCVI. XCVII. XCVIII. XCIX. The world is swimming in the light When the October wind stole in The red frost came with his armies Dearest, in this so golden fall . Her hair was crocus yellow Out of the dust that bore thee . Remnants of this soul of mine . What is this House at the End of the World .... A woman sat by the hearth The willows are all golden now wonder of all wonders . This is the time of the golden bough When spring comes up the slope of the grey old sea .... Now spring comes up the world, sweetheart The rain on the roof is your laughter Sweetheart, sweetheart, delay no more Out of the floor of the greenish sea There's not a little boat, sweetheart She said, " In all the purple hills" 1 saw the ships come wing by wing Up and up, they all come up I saw you in the gloaming, love How unutterably lonely Do you know the pull of the wind on the sea ? . The fishers are sailing; the fleet is away ...... Page III 112 114 116 117 119 120 122 124 127 128 129 130 131 133 134 135 136 137 138 140 141 142 143 145 CONTENTS Page C. My love said, " What is the sea ?" . . 147 CI. The moonlight is a garden . . . 149 CII. The lily said to the rose . . . .150 cm. The white water-lilies, they sleep on the lake . . . . . . -151 CIV. What are the great stars white and blue 153 CV. What is that spreading light far over the sea . . . . . . -154 CVI. Over the sea is a scarlet cloud . .156 CVII. What lies across my lonely bed . -157 CVIII. Another day comes up . . . -159 CIX. Three things there be in the world, Yvonne ...... 160 ex. The first soft green of a Northern spring . 161 CXI. Now all the twigs and grasses . . 162 CXII. Our isle is a magic ship .... 164 CXIII. The sails of the ship are white, love . 165 CXIV. Look, where the northern streamers wave and fold ...... 167 CXV. I do not long for fame .... 169 CXVI. I know how the great and golden sun . 170 CXVII. What will the Angel of the Morning say 172 CXVIII. Along the faint horizon .... 174 CXIX. Once more the golden April . . .176 CXX. Now comes the golden sunlight . . 178 CXXI. In the blue mystery of the April woods . 179 Aftersong 180 XI PRELUDE. These are the little songs The wild sea children sang, When the first gold arch of light From rim to zenith sprang; When all the glad clean joys Of being came to birth, Out of the darkling womb Of the morning of the earth. And these are the lyric songs The earthborn children sing. When wild-wood laughter throngs The shy bird-throats of spring; PRELUDE When there's not a joy of the heart But flies like a flag unfurled, And the swelling buds bring back The April of the world. These are the April songs The vernal children sing, When the yellow pollen dust Floats on the stream in spring; When the swelling streams go down Through the deep and grassy floors, And the gold-fish and the turtle Bask at their river doors. And these are the innocent songs The forest children sing, When the whippoorwill's unrest Is a pulse in the heart of spring ; PRELUDE When the dark of the frail new moon Is a globe of dim sea green, And no soul fears what its strange Sea-memories may mean. These are the happy songs The first sea children made, When the red morning roused them In the deep forest shade; When Hillborn said to Seaborn, " Sweetheart, but thou art fair ! " And the shining silver sea-mist Made moonstones in her hair. These are the lilting songs The dark sea children knew. When the sands emerged, and the sea Was a lotus of Indian blue; PRELUDE When, blossom by wind-blown blossom, Their virginal zones undone, The world was a wide sunflower Turning her face to the sun. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN, I. There is a wise Magician, Who sets a yellow star To seal the cinders of the night Within a hollow jar. And when the jar is broken, A marvel has been done ; There lies within the rosy dusk That coal we call the sun. But more than any wonder That makes the rose of dawn. Is this inheritance of joy My heart is happy on. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN II. The day is lost without thee, The night has not a star. Thy going is an empty room Whose door is left ajar. Depart: it is the footfall Of twilight on the hills. Return: and every rood of ground Breaks into daffodils. Thy coming is companioned By presences of bliss; The rivers and the little leaves All know how good it is. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN III. Thou art the sense and semblance Of things that never were, The meaning of a sunset, The tenor of a star. Thou art the trend of morning, The burden of June's prime, The twilight's consolation. The innocence of time. Thou art the phrase for gladness God coined when he was young. The fare- thee- well to sadness By stars of morning sung^ SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN The lyric revelation To rally and rebuoy The darker earth's half sinking Temerity of joy. Out of the hush and hearkening Of the reverberant sea, Some happier golden April Might fashion things like thee. Or if one heart-beat faltered In oblivion's drum-roll, That perfect idle moment Might be thy joyous soul. And the long waves of sorrow Will search and find no shore In all the seas of being, When thou shalt be no more. 8 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN IV. Thou art the pride and passion Of the garden where God said, *' Let us make a man." To fashion The beauty of thy head, The iron aeons waited And died along the hill, Nor saw the uncreated Dream of the urging will. A thousand summers wandered Alone beside the sea, And guessed not, though they pondered. What his design might be. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN But here in the sun's last hour, (So fair and dear thou art!) He shuts in my hand his flower, His secret in my heart. lO SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN V. In the door of the house of life, Beside the fabled sea, I am a harpstring in the wind, iEolian for thee. It was a cunning idler Who strung the even cords Across the drift of harmonies Impossible to words. It was the old Musician, With nothing else to do, One April when he felt the stir Revive him and renew, II SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Made me thy naught but lover, A frayed imperfect strand Reverberant to every note, Alive beneath thy hand! But smile, and I am laughter ; Look sorrow, and I mourn — A spirit from the cave of fears, Fantastic and forlorn. Sing low — the world is waiting Such radiance as thine To welcome her returning ships Above the dark sea-line. Rejoice — I know the cadence. Thou innocent and glad, To make of every hillside flower A dancing Oread. 12 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN A thing of sense and spirit, And moods and melody, I am a harpstring in the wind, lEolian for thee. 13 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN YI. Love, by that loosened hair, Well now I know Where the lost Lilith went So long ago. Love, by those starry eyes I understand How the sea maidens lure Mortals from land. Love, by that welling laugh Joy claims Its own Sea-born and wind-wayward Child of the sun. 14 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN VII. Once more in every tree-top I hear the hollow wind A-blowIng the last remnants Of winter from the land. Far down the April morning, With battle-clang and glee, The Boreal intruders Are driven to the sea. Then softly, buds of scarlet, Warm rain, and purple wing The tattered glad uncumbered Camp-followers of spring! *5 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN VIII. Under the greening willow Wanders a golden cry; Oriole April up In the world With morning day goes by. Out of the virgin quiet Like an awakening sigh, With the wild, wild heart forever A journeyer am I. We are the w^Ind's own brothers, Sorrow and joy and I ; But thou art the hope of morrows That shall be by and by. i6 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN IX. Dear, what hast thou to do With the cold moon, Free to range, fleet to change, So far and soon? Dear, what hast thou to do With the hoar sea? Love alone is his own Eternity. Dear, what hast thou to do With anything In the wide world beside Joyance and spring? I? SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN X. As sudden winds that freak The fresh face of the sea, The tinge upon her cheek Tells what the storm will be. As purple shadows rise Up to the setting sun, Her wonderful grey eyes Will tell when love is done. I8 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XL As down the purple of the night I watch the flaring meteors race, The gorgeous Bedouins of the dusk Making across the glooms of space, To my fantastic heart's unrest That would be gay, that would be gone, They seem like trysting lovers' souls Too long delayed and hurrying on. 19 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XII. In the Kingdom of Bootes, Whose vast cordon none can tell, Mirac answers to Arcturus, "All Is well!" What to them are days and seasons, Storm and triumph, plague and war — With their large, serene appointments, Star for star? In this handbreadth of the midnight, These heart-confines where we dwell, I can hear your spirit answer, "All is well!" 20 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN What to us is night or morrow, Or the little pause of death, In the rhythm of joy we measure Breath by breath? \ SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XIII. Look, love, along the low hills The first stars! God's hand is lighting the watchfires for us, To last until dawn. Hark, love, the wild whippoorwills ! Those weird bars. Full of dark passion, will pierce the dim forest, All night, on and on. Till the overbrimmed bowl of life spills, And time mars The one perfect piece of his handcraft, love's lifetime From dewrise till dawn. 22 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Foolish heart, fearful of ills! Shall the stars Require a reason, the birds ask a morrow? Heed thou love alone! 23 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XIV. The rain-wind from the East, So long a wanderer Beyond the sources of the sun, Brings back the crocus April and the showers. A heart upwelling in the forest flowers Has made them lovers every one. Who makes the twilight seem to stir In happy tears released? There, there, sweetheart! The night-wind from the West, The broad eaves of the sky, Brings back across the orchard hills The memories of a thousand springs with him ; 24 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And the white apple valleys in a dream Listen to the dark whippoorwills. Is the old burden of their joy So great they cannot rest? There, there, sweetheart! *5 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XV. O purple-black are the wet quince boughs, Where the buds begin to burn! And fair enough is Spring's new house, Made fresh for Love's return. She has taken him in and locked the door. And thrown aw^ay the key. When Free-foot finds his Rove-no-more, What use is liberty? SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XVI. An unseen hand went over the hill, And lit the cresset stars, And below the summer sea was strewn With mysterious nenuphars. The little wind of twilight came With the gladdest of words to me, " The tide is full, the night is fair, And Her window waits for thee ! " «7 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XVII. The very sails are singing A song not of the wind ; A fire dance is creaming Our wake that runs behina. In all the shining splendid White moonflower of the sea, There's not a runnel sleeping For ecstasy of thee. s8 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XVIII. Where the blue comes down to the brine, And the brine goes up to the blue, It's shine, shine, shine. The whole day through, The whole summer day long, dear. Till the sun like a harbour buoy, Is riding afloat in the west. And it's joy, joy, joy. For the place of his rest. The haven of No-more-fear. Then the stars come out on the sea. To dance on the purple floor. Their Master has turned the key In the silver door, And my heart's delight draws near. 29 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XIX. As if the sea's eternal rote Might cease to set remembrance wild, The breezy hair, the lyric throat Were given to the surf-born child. And the great forest found a voice For her along the brookside brown, That bids the purple dusk rejoice, And croons the golden daylight down. 30 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XX. wind and stars, I am with you now; An(l ports of day, Good-by! When my captain Love puts out to sea, His mariner am I. 1 set my shoulder to the prow, And launch from the pebbly shore. The tide pulls out, and hints of time Blow in from the cool sea floor. My sheering sail is a swift white wing Crowding the gloom with haste; I scud through the large and solemn world, And skim the wan grey waste. ax SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN O Stars and wind, be with me now; And ports of night, draw near! No sooner the longed for seamark shines, Than the very dark grows dear. 3« SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXI. All the zest of all the ages Shimmers in my sea-bird's wing, Flickering above the surges Of the sea. All the quiet of the ages Slumbers in my sea-bird's wing, Where it settles down the verges Of the sea. All the questing soul's behesting Pent and freed in one white wing. Joying there above the dirges Of the sea. ??. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Be thou, sweetheart, such a sweetheart! All the valour of the spring Crowds thy pulses with the urges Of the sea; Till this drench of joy, thou sweetheart, Fills the spaces of the spring, And the large fresh night emerges From the sea. S4 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXII. Eyes like the blue-green Shine of the sea, Where the swift shadows run, Whose soul is free. Shimmer of sunlight, Shadow of gloom, Wayward as ecstasy, Solemn as doom. Triumph, transplendour, Joy through and through. Till the soul wonders what Sense next may do. 35 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Hair like the blown grass Brown on the hill, Where the wide wandering Wind has his will. Spirit, the nomad, Whither to wend, Knows not and fears not, To the world's end. Seadusk or Dawnbright Name the earth's child, Like the wind, like the sea, Virginal wild. 3t> SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXIII. " Crimson bud, crimson bud, How come you here, Daring the upper world, Blithe without fear?" " Goldy plume, goldy plume, Ages ago, Came to my House of Dark One through the snow." " Crimson bud, crimson bud, What was the word, Down in the frozen earth, Sleeping, you heard?" 37 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN " Goldy plume, goldy plume, Deep in the mould, Somebody whispered me, ^Budkin, be bold!'" " Crimson bud, crimson bud. What was his name — Taught you such valour And girt you with flame? " " Ah, fellow wayfarer," Whispered the gloom, " When they shall question, say, Love bade me come! " 38 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXIV. We wandered through the soft spring days, And heard the flowers Talking among themselves of joys That were not ours. Till April in a softening mood Faltered a word The pretty gossips of the wood Had scarcely heard. But somehow you, you caught the lilt Of that wild speech The tiny tribesmen found occult Beyond their reach. 39 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Now when the rainman walks the field, And robin sings, I hark to promises that hold A thousand springs. 40 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXV. You pipers in the swales, Tune up your reedy flutes, And blow and blow to bring me back My little girl in spring! Take all the world beside, And flute it far away For less than nought, but give me back One sleepless night in spring. 4^ SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXVI. To-night I hear the rainbirds Piercing the silver gloom; The scent of the sea-blown lilacs Wanders across my room. Caught in their wake I follow The drift of memory; Once more the summer twilight Settles upon the sea. I shut my eyes and see you Under the lilacs stand, While the soft mists of sea-rain Are blowing in to land. 42 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Your little hands steal upward, Our fingers interlace; And through the driving sea-dark I feel your burning face. One little hour of heaven Lost in a single kiss; And then we two forever The castaways of bliss. To-night the scent of lilacs Comes up to me again, And ghosts of buried summers Walk with the lonely rain. But ah, what rooftree shelters To-night the dear black head? Only the sea wind answers — And leaves of the word unsaid. 43 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXVII. Lord of the vasty tent of heaven, Who hast to thy saints and sages given A thousand nights with their thousand stars, And the star of faith for a thousand years. Grant me, only a foolish rover All thy beautiful wide world over, A thousand loves in a thousand days. And one great love for a thousand years. 44 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXVIII. In the cool of dawn I rose; Life lay there from hill to hill In the core of a blue pearl, As it seemed, so deep and still. Not a word the mountains said Of the day that was to be. As I crossed them, till you came At the sunrise back with me. Then we heard the whitethroat sing, And the world was left behind. A new paradise arose Out of his untarnished mind. 45 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN The brown road lay through the wood. And the forest floor was spread For our footing with the fern, And the cornel berries red. There the woodland rivers sang; Not a sorrow touched their glee, Dancing up the yellow sun, From the purple mountain sea. Towns and turbulence and fame Were as fabled things that lay Through the gateway of the notch, Long ago and far away. There we loitered and went on. Where the roadside berries grew; Earth with all its joy once more Was made over for us two. 46 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And at last a meaning filled The round morning fair and good, Waited for a thousand years, There was no more solitude. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXIX. Up from the kindled pines, Lo, the lord Sun! What shall his children find When day is done? Ere thy feet follow him Over the sea, Love, turn thy glorious Eyes once to me! High in the burning noon, Lo, the lord Sun Sleeps, with his hand slack. His girdle undone. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Ere thy feet follow him Over the hill, Love, lace thy heart to mine, Time has stood still. Down by the valley-night Sings the great sea; Over the mountain rim Day walks for thee. Ere thy feet follow him Into far lands. Love, lift thy mouth to me Up through thy hands! Well do they journey Who joy as they go; Hear his hills whispering, " So, it is so." 49 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Ere thy feet follow him Down to the shade, Love, loose thy zone to me, Mistress and maid! Down to the kindling pines, Lo, the lord Sun Goes unreluctant And day is done. (• SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXX. The skle)^ shreds of rain Are all blown loose again, And bright among the dripping chestnut boles Whistle the orioles. As if wise Nature knew The finest thing to do, And touched her forestry, supremely done, With these few flakes of sun. To-night by the June sea You are cqme back to me. Through all the mellow dark from hill to hill That gladdens and grows still; SI SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN As though wise Nature guessed Her love joys were the best, When down the darkling spaces of desire She sent your song and fire. 52 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXI. On the meridian of the night Alcar the Tester marks high June; Arcturus knows his zenith fame; No grass-head sleeps upon the dune. And up from the southeastern sea, Antares, the red summer star, Brings back the ardours of the earth, Like fire opals in a jar: The frail and misty sense of things Beyond mortality's ado, The soft delirium of dream, And joy pale virgins never knew. 53 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXII. Love, lift your longing face up through the rain! In the white drench of it over the hills, Blurring remembrance and quieting pain, Stretch the strong hands of the sea. Love, h'ft 3'our longing face up through the rain ! In the bleak rote of it through the far hills, Rhythmed to joy and untarnished of pain, Calls the great heart of the sea. 54 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXIII. Swing down, great sun, sw^ing down, And beat at the gates of day, To open and let thee forth! I would not have thee stay. Swing up, dear stars, and shine Over the baths of the sea! To-night, my beautiful one Will open her arms for me. 55 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXIV. The world is a golden calyx, A-swing in the blooth of time, Where floret to floret ripens And the starry blossoms rhyme. Thou art the fair seed vessel Waiting all day for me, Who ache with the golden pollen The night will spill for thee. 56 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXV. Eyes like summer after sundown, Hands like roses after dew, Lyric as a blown rose garden The wind wanders through. Swelling breasts that bud to crimson, Hair like cobwebs after dawn. And the rosy mouth wind-rifled When the wind is gone. 57 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXVI. The sun is lord of a manor fair, And the earth his garden old, Whose dewy beds where he walks at morn Flower by flower unfold. When he goes at night and leaves the stars Lit in the trees to shine, Blossom by blossom the flowerheads sleep — And a rosy head by mine. 58 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXVII. In God's blue garden the flowers are cold, As you tell them over star by star, Sirlus, Algol, pale Altair, Lone Arcturus, and Algebar. In love's red garden the flowers are warm, As I count them over and kiss them by, From the sultry royal rose-red mouth To the last carnation dusk and shy. 59 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXVIII. First by her starry gaze that falls Aside, as if afraid to know The stronger self who stirs and calls, I think she came from a land of snow. Then by her mood that melts to mine Her body and her soul's desire. Under the shifting forest shine, I think she came from a land of fire. 60 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XXXIX. The alchemist who throws his worlds In the round crucible of the sun, Has laid our bodies in the forge Of love to weld them into one. The hypnotist who waves his hand And the pale streamers walk the night, A moment for our souls unbars The lost dominions of delight. 6i SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XL. Thy mouth Is a snow apple, Thy tongue a rosy melon core, Thy breasts are citrons odorous of the East. I know that nursery tale of Eden now, Where God prepared the feast Beneath the bow. I ask no more. The apple-trees have whispered The only word I listened for Through all the legends babbled in my ears. I know what manner of unbitten fruit The first man took with fears And found so sweet. I ask no more. 62 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLI. As orchards in an apple land, That whiten to the moon of May, Hear the first rainbird's ecstasy Peal from the dark hills far away; The wintry spaces of my soul, Snowed under by the drift of time, Feel immortality begin As your long kisses surge and climb. 63 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLII. Noon on the marshes and noon on the hills, And joy in the white sail that shivers and fills. Gold are the grain lands, and gold is the sea, And gold is my little love maid to me. SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLIII. Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your hands! Here in the bracken shade will we not well Wring the warm summer world dry of its honey ? God made a heaven before He made hell. Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your eyes; Let their shy quivering rapture and deep Melt as they merge in mine melting above them ! God made surrender before He made sleep. Berrybrown, Berrybrown, give me your mouth, Till all is done 'twixt a breath and a breath! Naught shall undo the one joy-deed for ever, God made desire before He made death. 6S SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLIV. Wait for me, Cherrychild, when the blue dusk Falls from the silent star-spaces and fills With utter peace the great heart of the hills, Child, Cherrychild! Call to me, Cherrychild, when the blue dusk First throbs to passion among the dark hills, In the brown throats of the lone whippoorwills. Child, Cherrychild! Come to me, Cherrychild, in the blue dusk! Forlorn and loverless as the wild sea, Long have I lain alone, longing for thee, Child, Cherrychild. 66 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLV. Summer love, open your eyes to me now! June's on the mountain and day's at the door. Time shall turn back for us one crimson hour, Ere the white seraph winds walk the sea floor. Summer heart, open your arms to me now! Beautiful wonder-eyed spirit's home, here With the eternal ache quenched in the bliss, One golden minute outmeasures a year. Sweet heaven! Open your arms to me now! There, dearest body, cease trembling, lie still! Joy, how the June birds are shivered with song! And see, the first shreds of dawn over the hill. 67 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLVL Through what strange garden ran The sultry stream whereon This languorous nenuphar of love could grow? Such melting ardours spending to the moon, From swoon to swoon! My wondrous moonflower white, Outspread in the warm night, Tinged with a rosy tint, a golden glow. And fervours of enchantment it must hide Till daylight died. It lies so soft and fond, Wilted in my hot hand, 68 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN That was so dewy fresh an hour ago. " Can life be, then," my soul is pondering, "So frail a thing?" And all because I laid The snowy petals wide; Having heard tell, yet longing still to know. What sweet things youth might barter ignorance for, Once and no more. 60 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLVIL Let the red dawn surmise What we shall do, When this blue starlight dies And all is through. If we have loved but well Under the sun, Let the last morrow tell What we have done. 70 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLVIII. A breath upon my face, A whisper at my ear, Filling this leafy place, Tell me love is here. The sea-gloom of her eyes. The apples of her breast, The shadows where she lies, A-tremble or at rest. The little rosy knees, The beech-brown of her hair A thousand things like these Tell me love is fair. 71 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN The clinging of her kiss, Her heart that looks beyond, The joys she will not miss, Tell me love is fond. And when I am away, A weary dying fall, Haunting the wind by day. Tells me love is all. 72 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XLIX. I was a reed in the stilly stream, Heigh-ho! And thou my fellow of moveless dream, Heigh-lo. Hardly a word the river said. As there we bowed him a listless head : Only the yellowbird pierced the noon ; And summer died to a drowsier swoon, Till the little wind of night came by, With the little stars in the lonely sky, And the little leaves that only stir. When shiest wood-fellows confer. 73 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN It shook the stars In their purple sphere, And laid a frost on the lips of fear. It woke our slumbering desire, As a breath that blows a mellow fire, And the thrill that made the forest start. Was a little sigh from our happy heart. This is the story of the world. Heigh-ho ! This is the glory of the world, Heigh-lo. 74 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN L. I was the west wind over the garden, Out of the twilit marge and deep; You were the sultry languorous flower, Famished and filled and laid to sleep. I was the rover bee, and you — With the hot red mouth where a soul might drown, And the buoyant soul where a man might swim — You were the blossom that drew me down. 75 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LI. A touch of your hair, and my heart was furled ; A drift of fragrance, and noon stood still; All of a sudden the fountain there Had something to whisper the sun on the hill. Rose of the garden of God's desire, Only the passionate years can prove With sorrow and rapture and toil and tears The right of the soul to the kingdom of love. 76 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LII. In the land of kisses The very winds were stirred To mortal speech. But this is The only tale I heardo In the land of kisses Your mouth is a red bloom, Aching to know the blisses That perish and consume. In the land of kisses My mouth is a red moth Searching in the dusk. And this is The rapture for us both. 77 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LIII. I think the sun when he turns at night, And lays his face against the sea's, Must have such thoughts as these. I think the wind, when he wakes at dawn, Must wonder, seeing hill by hill. That they can sleep so still. 78 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LIV. I see jhe golden hunter go, With his hound star close at heel, Through purple fallows above the hill. When the large autumn night is still And the tide of the world is low. And while to their unwearied quest The sister Pleiads pass, That seventh loveliest and lost Desire of all the orient host Is here upon my breast. 79 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LV. You old men with frosty beards, I am wiser than you all; I have seen a fairer page Than Belshazzar's w^all. You young men with scornful lips, I am stronger than you all ; I have sown the Cadmian field Where no shadows fall. For a w^oman yesterday Loved me, body, soul, and all. Saints will lift their crow^ns to me At the Judgment Call. 80 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LVL It was the tranquil hour Of earth's expectancy, When we lay on the Wishing Sands Beside the sleeping sea. We saw the scarlet moon rise And light the pale grey land ; We heard the whisper of the tide, The sighing of the sand. I felt the ardent flutter Your heart gave for delight; You knew how earth is glad and hushed Under the tent of night. 8i SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN We dreamed the dream of lovers, And told our dream to none; And all that we desired came true, Because we wished as one. S« SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LVII. The mountain ways one summer Saw joy and life go past, When we who fared so lonely Were hand in hand at last. Till over us the pine woods Their purple shadows cast, And the tall twilight laid us Hot mouth to mouth at last. O hills, beneath your slumber, Or pines, below your blast, Make room for your two children, Cold cheek to cheek at last! S3 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LVIII. Poppy, you shall live forever With the crimson of her kiss, Through a summer day undreamed of In a land like this. Once I bartered with Oblivion: For the crimson of her kiss I would give a thousand morrows Of a day like this. But I was a foolish buyer; For the crimson of her kiss Woke me, and I heard the wind say, " Nevermore like this! " 84 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Poppy, you shall sleep forever With the crimson of her kiss Through the centuries, undreamed of In a rhyme like this. 85 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LIX. I loved you when the tide of prayer Swept over you, and kneeling there In the pale summer of the stars, You laid your cheek to mine. I loved you when the auroral fire, Like the world's veriest desire. Burned up, and as It touched the sea. You laid your limbs to mine. I loved you when you stood tiptoe To say farewell, and let me go Into the night from your laced arms. And laid your mouth to mine. SO SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And I shall love you on that day The wind comes over the sea to say Your golden name upon men's mouths, And mix your dust with mine. 87 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LX. Once of a Northern midnight, By dike and mountainside, With fleeces for her habit, The moon went forth to ride Up from the ocean caverns, Where ancient memories bide, Returning with his secret We heard the muttering tide. But fear was not upon you; Your woman's arms were wide; The world's poor shreds and tatters Of mumming laid aside. 88 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN The sea-rote for our ruble, Our ritual and guide, There was a virgin wedding Whose vows no priest supplied. And there until the dawn-wind Up from the marshes sighed. Whispered among the aspens, Shivered and passed and died. Our scene-shifter the moonlight, Our orchestra the tide, I was a prince of fairy, You were a prince's bride. 89 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXI. The forest leaves were all asleep, The yellow stars were on the hill, The roving winds were all away, Only the tide was restless still, When I awoke. My chamber dim Was flooded by the cool, sweet night, And in the hush I seemed aware Of premonitions of delight. Who called me lightly as I slept? Who touched my forehead with soft hands? Who summoned me without a sound Back from the vague, mysterious lands? 90 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN It must have been my sleepless heart Knocking upon his prison door, To bid old Reason have a care Lest Joy should pass and come no more. 91 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXII. There sighed along the garden path And through the open door a stir; 'Twas not the rustle of the corn, Nor yet the whisper of the fir. There passed an Eastern odour, fraught With the delirium of sense; 'Twas not the attar of the rose, Nor the carnation's redolence. Then came a glimmering of white — The drench of sheer diaphanous lawn, More palpable than light of stars, And more delectable than dawn. 92 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN The Paphian curve from throat to waist, From waist to knee, then lost again, Told me how beauty such as hers Spreads like a madness among men. 93 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXIII. And then I knew the first vague bliss That swept through Lillth like strange fire, Consuming all her loveliness With one imperious desire, When In the twilight she beheld, Through the green apple shades obscure, The Lord God moulding from the dust Her splendid virgin paramour. I knew what aching shudder ran Through the dark bearers, file on file, When Pharaoh's daughter went to merge Her peerless beauty in the Nile; 94 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN What slumbering deliciousness Awoke beside the Dorian stream When the young prince from over sea Broke on the lovely Spartan's dream; And all the fervour and desire, The raptures and the ecstasies, Of Aucassin and NicoUette, Of Abelard and Heloise, And all the passionate despair, So bravely borne for many a year, Of Tristram and the dark Iseult, Of Launcelot and Guinevere! 95 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXIV. I knew, by that diviner sense Which wakes to beauty sweet and lone, Once more beneath the moonlit boughs Astarte had unloosed her zone; Immortal passion, fair and wild, Remembering her joys of yore, Had taken on the human guise To glad one mortal lover more. QO SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXV. A moon-white moth against the moon, A sea-blue raindrop in the sea, A grain of pollen on the air. This little virgin soul might be. As if a passing breath of wind Should stir the poplars in the night, Her wondrous spirit woke from sleep, And shivered with unknown delight. As if a sudden garden door Should open in a granite wall, She trembled at the brink of joy, So great and so ephemeral. 97 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXVI. What is it to remember? How white the moonlight poured into the room, That summer long ago! How still it w^as In that great solemn midnight of the North, A century ago! And how I wakened trembling At soft love-whispers warm against my cheek, And laughed it was no dream! Then far away, The troubled, refluent murmur of the sea, A sigh within a dream! SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXVII. She had the fluttering eyelids Like petals of a rose; I had the wisdom never learned From any musty prose. She had the melting ardour That hesitates yet dares; And I had youthful valour's look, That is so like despair's. She had the tender bearing Of daffodils in spring; And I had sense enough to know Love is a fleeting thing. 99 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN She had the heart of tinder; I had the lips of flame; And neither of us ever heard Procrastination's name. She had the soft demeanour, Discreet as any nun's; And each of us has all the joy God gives his foolish ones. lOO SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXVIII. The land lies full, from brim to brim Of the great smoke-blue mountains' rim. Of yellow autumn and red sun. A giant in content, the day Idles the solemn hours away To dreamland one by one. Life is the dominance of good, And love the ecstasy of mood, Your hand in my hand says to me. Yet, somewhere in the waste between Being and sense, I hear a threne Wash like the dirging sea. lOI SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXIX. In the blue opal of a winter noon, When all the world was a white floor Lit by the northern sun, I saw with naked eyes a midday star Burn on like gleaming spar, Where all its fellows of the mighty dusk Had perished one by one. When I shall have put by the vagrant will, And down this rover's twilight road Emerge into the sun. Be thou my only sheer and single star, Known, named, and followed far. When all these Jack-o'-lantern hopes and fears Have perished one by one! 102 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXX. Far hence in the infinite silence How we shall learn and forget, Know and be known, and remember Only the name of regret? Sown in that ample quiet, We shall break sheath and climb, Seeds of a single desire In the heart of the apple of time. We shall grow wise as the flowers, And know what the bluebirds sing. When the hands of the grasses unravel The wind in the hollows of spring. 103 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And out of the breathless summer The aspen leaves will stir, At your low sweet laugh to remember The imperfect things we were. 104 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXI. Of the whole year, I think, I love The best that time we used to call The Little Summer of All Saints, About the middle of the fall, Because there fell the golden days Of that gold year beside the sea. When first I had you at heart's will, And you had your whole will of me. It is the being's afternoon, The second summer of the soul. When spirits find a way to reach Beyond the sense and its control. los SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Then come the firmamental days, The underseason of the year, When God himself, being well content, Takes time to whisper in our ear. Sweetheart, once more by every sign Of blade and shadow, it must be The Little Summer of All Saints In the red Autumn by the sea. io6 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXII. At night upon the mountains The magic moon goes by, And stops at every threshold With lure and mystery. And then my lonely fancy Can bide content no more, But through an autumn country Must search from door to door, Till in a quiet valley, Under a quiet sky. Is found the one companion To bid the v^^orld good-by. 107 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And once again at moonrise We wander hand in hand, With the last grief forgotten, Through an enchanted land. 108 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXIII. Once more the woods grow crimson, Once more the year burns down, Once more my feet come home To the little seaboard town. Once more I learn desire Prevails but to endure, And the heart springs to meet Your hand-touch — and be sure. 109 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXIV. Once when the winds of spring came home From the far countries where they roam, I heard them tell Of things I could not understand, And strange adventures in a land Where all was well. I do not wonder any more What Autumn at his open door Is dreaming of; I am so happy to have done With all the things underneath the sun Save only love. no SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXV. The world is swimming in the light, Sheer as a bubble green and gold. On the purpureal autumn walls Once more time's rubric is unrolled. As if the voice of the blue sea Sufficed for summer's utmost speech, But now the very hills must help And lift their heart to the lyric reach. Scarlet, diaphanous and glad, The valiant message waves and burns. The elemental cry that lurks Deep as the cold heart of the Norns. Ill SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXVI. When the October wind stole in To wake me in my chamber cool, With dancing sunlight on the wall, From the still vestibule Fluttered a sound like rustling leaves, Or the just-heard departing stir Of silk, a hint of presence gone, A waft of lavender. I saw upon my arms strange marks. Traced when my eyes were unaware, Like petal-stains of some green rose Or faint kiss-bruises there; 112 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And wondered, as there came the sad Eternal whisper of the sea, Which one of all my pale dead loves Had spent the night with me. "1 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXVII. The red frost came with his armies And camped by the sides of the sea. The maples and the oaks took on His gorgeous livery. They dyed their tents a madder, Alizarin and brown, And dipped their banners in the sun To give their joy renown. And lo, when twilight sobered Their dauntless cinnabars. Along the outposts of the sea The watch-fires of the stars! 114 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And I for love of roving Am listed with the king, Because I knew the password, " Joy is the only thing! " 115 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXVIII. Dearest, in this so golden fall, When beauty aches with her own bliss, One thought the pause to my desire And my small consolation is. I am a child. A thistle seed On the boon wind is more than I, Yet will the hand that sows the hills Have care of me too when I die. When I who love thee without words Sink as a foam-bell in the sea, One who has no regard for fame Will neither have contempt for me. ii6 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXIX. Her hair was crocus yellow, Her eyes were crocus blue, Her body was the only gate Of paradise I knew. Her hands were velvet raptures, Her mouth a velvet bliss; Not Lilith in the garden had So wonderful a kiss. To know her was to banish Reason for once and all. Her voice was like a silver door Set in a scarlet wall. 117 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN For when she said, " I love you," It was as when the tide Yearns for the naked moonlight, An unreluctant bride. And when she said, " Ah, leave me," It was as when the sea Sighs at the ebb, or a spent wind Dies in the aspen tree. ii8 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXX. Out of the dust that bore thee, What wonder walking came, — What beauty like blown grasses, What ardour like still flame! What patience of the mountains, What yearning of the sea, What far eternal impulse Endowed the world with thee? A reed within the river, A leaf upon the bough. What breath of April ever Was half so dear as thou? 119 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXI. Remnants of this soul of mine, This same self that once was me, Flock and gather and grow one, Whole once more at thought of thee. Never yet was such a love, So supremely fond as thou; Never mortal lover yet So beloved as thine is now. I a foam-head in the sea. Thou the tide to lift and run; I a sombre-crested hill, Thou the purple light thereon. 1 20 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Tide may ebb and light may fail, But not love's sincerity, — More enduring than the sun, More compelling than the sea. 121 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXIL What is this House at the End of the World, Where the sun leaves ofE and the snow begins, And the drift of the grey sea spins? O this is the house where I was born, At the world's far edge one April day, Within sound of the white sea spray. The place is lone, where the hills recede. And the sea slopes over the world's far side, And nothing moves but the tide, — The moaning tide and the silent sun, The wind and the stars and the Northern light. Changing the watch by night. 122 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN And of all the travellers who questioned me, Why I make my home in so quiet a land, Not a soul could understand. Till the day you came with love In your eyes, And asked no more than the sun on the wall, Yet understood It all. And my house has been filled to overflow With beauty and laughter and peace since then. And joys of the world of men. 123 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXIII. A woman sat by the hearth, And a man looked out at the door. " O lover, I hear a sound As of approaching storm, When the sea makes in from the north With thunder and chafing and might, And trundles the quaking ground." " It is not the sea you hear. The ice in the river is loosed; You hear its grinding mills Wearing the winter away, And the grist of grief and cold 124 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Shall soon be the meal of joy. O heart of me, April is here ! " " O lover, I hear a sigh As of the boding wind In the murmurous black pines, Or a stir as of beating wings When the fleeing curlews fly." " It is not the wind's great hum; The bees in the willow blooms, All golden-dusted now, Sing in their chantry loft As when earth the immortal was young, Busy with ardour and joy. O heart of mine, April is come! " " O lover, my heart aches sore ; My hands would fondle your hair. My cheek be laid to your cheek; 125 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN A Strange new wild great word Knocks at my heart's closed door." " Who is not a learner now ? We endure, and seasons change, And the heart grows great and strange With the beauty of earth and time. Our lives unfold and get free, As the streams and the creatures do, To range through the April now." Like a gold spring-flower in his arms, She stood by the open door. 126 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXIV. The willows are all golden now, And grief is past and olden now; To the wild heart There comes a start Will help it and embolden now. The birch tips are all slender now; The April light is tender now; And the soft skies Are calm and wise With vision of new splendour now. The streets are full of gladness now, — Forget their look of sadness now; While up and down The flowery town Comes back the old spring madness now. J2J SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXV. O wonder of all wonders, The winter time is done, And to the low, bleak, bitter hills Comes back the melting sun! O wonder of all wonders, The soft spring winds return. And in the sweeping gusts of rain The glowing tulips burn! O wonder of all wonders, That tenderness divine. Bearing a woman's name, should knock At this poor door of mine! 128 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXVL This is the time of the golden bough, The April ardour, the mystic fire. And the soft wind up from the South, Lingering, rainy, and warm. Dissolving sorrow and bidding new life aspire, — New spirit take form, — Through the waking green earth now. This is the time of the golden tress. The heaving heart and the shining glance, And the little head that bows Meekly to love at lasto Then two behold the flowery world in a trance Through the spring's new vast Of sunshine and tenderness. 129 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXVII. When spring comes up the slope of the grey old sea, Like a green galleon, With joy in her wake, with light on her sails, What will she bring to us, my Yvonne? The long, sweet lisp and drench of the sweetness of rain, The strong, glad youth of the sun. And a touch of the madness that makes men wise With the wisdom of lovers, my Yvonne. 130 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXVIII. Now spring comes up the world, sweetheart, What shall we find to do? The hills grow purple in the rain, The sea is gold and blue; The door is open to the sun, The window to the sky; The odour of the cherry bough, A freighted dream, goes by; The spruces tell the southwest wind Where the white windflowers are; The brooks are babbling in the dusk To one great yellow star; 131 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN In all the April-coloured land, Where glints and murmurs stray, There's not a being that draws breath But will go mad to-day — Go mad with piercing ecstasy, Afoot, afloat, awing. And wild with all the aching sweet Delirium of spring. Now April fills the world with love, There's not a thing to do But to be happy all night long. Then glad the whole day through. I '12 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN LXXXIX. The rain on the roof is your laughter; The wind in the eaves is your sigh ; The sun on the hills is your gladness In Spring going by. The sea to its uttermost morning, Gold-fielded, unfrontiered and blue. Is the light and the space and the splendour My heart holds for you. 133 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN xc. Sweetheart, sweetheart, delay no more, Nor in this prosy street abide! The fairy coach is at the door; The fairy ship is on the tide. For I have built of golden dreams, And furnished with delight for thee, And lit with wondrous starry beams, A fairy place over sea. Then, footman, up! Good horses, speed! Then, lads, aboard and make all sail! The wind is fair, the cable freed ; Now what can all the world avail? 134 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCI. Out of the floor of the greenish sea Flowers the scarlet moon, Thrusting the tip of her budding lip Through Its watery sheath In the waiting June. Out of the grey of forgotten things My heart shall arise at full, And illumine space to find your face By a love-light quiet and wonderful. 135 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCII. There's not a little boat, sweetheart, That dances on the tide, — There's not a nodding daisy-head In all the meadows wide, — In all the warm green orchards. Where bright birds sing and stray, There's not a whistling oriole So glad as I this day. 136 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCIII. She said, " In all the purple hills, Where dance the lilies blue, Where all day long the springing larks Make fairy-tales come true, " Where you can lie for hours and watch The unfathomable sky, There's not a breath of all the June That's half so glad as I ! " 137 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCIV. I saw the ships come wing by wing Up from the golden south with spring; And great w^as the treasure they had in hold Of food and raiment and gems and gold, The loot and barter of many lands Brought home by daring and hardy hands. For love is the only seed that sows The waste of the sea which no man knows. My sailing thoughts came back to me From faring over the great dream sea; And every one was laden deep With riches of memory to keep, 138 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Laughter and joy and the smooth delight Of the little friend and the starry night. For love is the only seed that sows The waste of the heart which no man knows. 139 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN xcv. Up and up, they all come up Out of the noon together, The flowering sails on the slope of the sea In the white spring weather. In and in, they all draw in — A streaming flock together — From the lone and monstrous waste of sea By a single tether. Home, come home, they all make home In a racing fleet together — The little white wishes I sent to you In the golden weather. 140 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCVI. I saw you In the gloaming, love, When all the fleets were homing, love, And under the large level moon the long grey seas were combing, love. I saw you tall and splendid, love, And all my griefs were ended, love. When on me, as I put to land, your seaward eyes were bended, love. The little boats were stranded, love, And all their rich bales landed, love; But all my wealth awaited me low-voiced and gentle-handed, love. 141 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCVII. How unutterably lonely Is the vast grey round of sea, Till the yellow flower of heaven Breaks and blossoms and gets free, Lighting up the lilac spaces With her golden density! Hope of sailors and of lovers, Swings the lantern of the sea. Not the moon it was that lighted One grey waste of heart I know, Warmed with loving, touched with magic, And made molten and aglow. When your beauty flowered above it From a twilight soft and slow. Dearest face that still must beacon Where your lover still must go! 142 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCVIII. Do you know the pull of the wind on the sea? That is the thought of you over my heart, The long soft breath of the soul drawing back to me, From the desolate lone of outer space, At dead of night when we are apart. Do you know the sound of the surf on the shore, At the lilac close of a soft spring day? That is the fairy music I hear once more. As I remember your last farewell, In the blue still night when you are away. And the wondrous round of the moon on the hill, When blue dusk covers the rim of the sea? 143 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN More desired and strange and loved and lovelier still Is the vision that comes w^ith love in her eyes — Your wonderful eyes — forever to me. 144 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN XCIX. The fishers are saih'ng; the fleet Is away; The rowlocks are throbbing at break of day. The cables are creaking; the sails are unfurled; The red sun Is over the rim of the world. The first summer hour Is white on the hill; The sails in the harbour-mouth belly and fill, — Each boat putting out with the breast of a gull For the mighty great deep that shall rock them and lull. HS SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN There, there, they all pass out of sight one by one, — Gleam, dazzle, and sink in the path of the sun, — The last tiny speck to melt out and be free As a roseleaf of cloud on the rim of the sea. 146 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN c. My love said, "What is the sea?" I said, " The unmeasured sea Is my heart, sweetheart, That is stormy or still With its great wild will. Glorying, stainless and free, Or sad with a sorrow beyond man's speech to impart, But for ever calling to thee. Heart of my heart." My love said, " What is the tide ? " I said, " The unshackled tide Is my love, sweetheart. The draft and sweep 147 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Of the restless deep, Made clean as the stars and wide, That forever must yearn to the land above and apart, Till the day when she sinks to his side, Heart of my heart." My love said, "What Is the land?" I said, " The Summer land Is thy face, sweetheart. Dreamy and warm and glad, In a benediction clad. With sunshine sweetened and tanned ; And there Is the set of the tide, the end and the start, The sea's despair and demand, Heart of my heart!" 148 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CI. The moonlight is a garden Upon the mountainside, Wherein your gleaming spirit All lovely and grave-eyed, Touched with the happy craving That will not be denied, Aforetime used to wander Until it reached my side. O wild white forest flower, Rose-love and lily-pride, And staunch of burning beauty Against your lover's side! 149 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CII. The lily said to the rose, " What will become of our pride, When Yvonne comes down the path ? " And the crimson rose replied, " Our beauty and pride must wane, Yet we shall endure to stir The pulse of lovers unborn With metaphors of her." 150 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN cm. The white water-lilies, they sleep on the lake, Till over the mountain the sun bids them wake. At the rose-tinted touch of the long, level ray. Each pure, perfect blossom unfolds to the day. Each affluent petal outstretched and uncurled To the glory and gladness and shine of the world. O whiter land-lily, asleep in the dawn. While yet the cool curtain of stars is half drawn, And all the dark forest is mystic and still, With the great yellow planet aglow on the hill. 151 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Hark, somewhere among the grey beeches a thrush Sends the first thrill of sound to requicken the hush! AVith a flutter of eyelids, a sigh soft and deep, An unfolding of rosy warm fingers from sleep, For one perfect day more to love, gladden and roam. Thy spirit comes back to Its flowerlike home. 152 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CIV. What are the great stars white and blue, Sparkling along the twilight there? They are the dewy gems let fall, When I loosed your hair. What is the great pale, languorous moon On the floor of the sea alone? That is the yellow rose let fall. When I loosed your zone. 153 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN cv. What is that spreading light far over the sea, In the thin cool dawn, in the wash of the summer air, When the planets pale And the soft winds fail, But Yvonne with her yellow hair? What is that deep, dark shine in the heart of the sea. The glory and glow and darkle and dim surprise, Melting and clear Beyond fathom of fear, But Yvonne with her smoke-blue eyes? 154 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN What is that burning disk on the rim of the sea, When autumn brushfires smoulder and birds go South, When twilight fills The imperial hills, But Yvonne with her scarlet mouth? '55 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CVI. Over the sea Is a scarlet cloud, And over the cloud the sun. And over my heart is a shining hope, And over that, Yvonne. 156 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CVII. What lies across my lonely bed Like tropic moonlight soft and pale? What deeper gold is that outspread Across my pillow like a veil? What sudden fragrances are these That voyage across the gloom to me, With faint delirious ecstasies From fairy gardens over sea? What rustles in the curtained dusk With the remembrance of a sigh, As if a breath of wandering air Should stir the poppies going by? 157 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Lover of beauty, can it be That from some far off foreign clime The sumptuous night has brought to thee The Rose of Beauty of all time? 158 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CVIII. Another day comes up, Wears over, and goes down ; And ft seems an age has passed In a little seaboard town. To one who must weary and wait Till the sun comes round once more, Before he may tap on the pane And lift the latch of your door. »59 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CIX. Three things fhere be in the world, Yvonne; And what do you guess they mean? The stable land, the heaving sea, And the tide that hangs between. Three things there be in this life, Yvonne; And what do you guess they mean? Your sun-warm soul, my wind-swept soul, And the current that drawls between. 1 60 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN ex. The first soft green of a Northern spring, Lit by a golden sun : That is the little frock you wore When our love was begun, In the house by the purple shore. The gold-red flush of early fall, And the tinge of sun on the sea: That is the maiden vest you wore When you came to my knee, And the firelight danced on the floor. i6i SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXI. Now all the twigs and grasses Are feathery with snow; The land is white and level, The brooks have ceased to flow. No song is in the woodland, There is no light of sun, But bright and warm and tender Is my sweetheart, Yvonne. The lower hills are purple, The farther peaks are lost; There's nothing left alive now, Except the bitter frost. 162 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Yes, two there be that heed not How cold the year may run: The fire upon the hearthstone, And my sweetheart, Yvonne. I<73 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXII. Our isle is a magic ship; You can feel it swing and dip, Running the long blue slopes Of sliding sea, With you and me The only adventurers. The sails of the snow are spread. See how we forge ahead ! Good-by, old summers and sorrows! O brave and dear Whom never a fear Of the breathless voyage deters! io4 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXIII. The sails of the ship are white, love; What are they? The hauling clouds, you say. The ropes are weather-worn, love; What are they? The strands of rain, you say. The lights ashore are lit, love; What are they? The beacon stars, you say. How shall we keep the course, love, By night and day? By a secret chart, you say. T65 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN But how shall we reckon true, love, Without time of day? By a tick of the heart, you say. And how shall we know the land, love, On that day? You smile and will not say. x66 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXIV. Look, where the northern streamers wave and fold, Bluish and green and gold, At the far corner of the quiet land, Moved by an unseen hand! Some one has drawn the curtains of the night, And taken away the light. It is so still I cannot hear a sound, Except the mighty bound Your little heart makes beating in your side. And the first sob of tide, 167 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN When the sea turns from ebb far down the shore To his old task once more. O surging, stifling heart, have all your will, In the blue night and still! Love till the Hand folds up the firmament, And the last stars are spent! 1 68 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN cxv. I do not long for fame, Nor triumph, nor trumpets of praise; I only wish my name To endure in the coming days, When men say, musing at times, With smiling speech and slow, "He was a maker of rhymes Yvonne loved long ago!" 169 i SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXVI. I know how the great and golden sun Will come up out of the sea, Stride in to shore And up to her door, To touch her hand and her hair. With so much more than a man can say, Bidding Yvonne good day. I know how the great and quiet moon Will come up out of the sea. And climb the hill To her window-sill And enter all silently, And lie on her little cot so white, Kissing Yvonne good night. 1 70 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN I know how the great and countless stars Will come up out of the sea, To keep their guard By her still dooryard, Lest the soul of Yvonne should stray And be lost for ever there by the deep, In the wonderful hills of sleep. 171 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXVII. What will the Angel of the Morning say, Relieving guard? *' Night, who hath passed thy way To the Palace Yard?" And Night will make reply, '' Only two springtime lovers sought The King's reward." Then will the Angel of the Morning say, "What said the King?" *' The King said nought, but smiled And took his ring And gave it to the man, And set him In his stead for one Sweet day of spring." 172 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Then will the Angel of the Morning say, With grave regard, " Pass, Night, and leave the gate For once unbarred. I serve the lover now; He shall be free of all the earth For his reward." 173 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXVIII. Along the faint horizon I watch the first soft green, And for the first wild warble Near to the ground I lean. The flowers come up with colour, The birds come back with song, And from the earth are taken Despondency and wrong. Yet in the purple shadows, And in the warm grey rain, What hints of ancient sorrow And unremembered pain! 174 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN O sob and flush of April, That still must joy and sing! What is the sad, wild meaning Under the heart of Spring? 175 1 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXIX. Once more the golden April; Gold are the willow-trees, And golden the soft murmur Of the gold-belted bees. All golden is the sunshine, And golden are the flowers. The golden-wing makes music In the long, golden hours. All dull gold are the marshes And red gold are the dunes, And gold the pollen dust Is Moting the quiet noons. n6 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Even the sea's great sapphire Is panelled with raw gold. How else were spring unperished, A thousand ages old? 177 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN cxx. Now comes the golden sunlight Up the glad earth once more, And every forest dweller Comes to his open door. And now the quiet rain-wind Comes from the soft grey sea, To haunt thy April lover With lonely pangs for thee! 178 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN CXXI. In the blue mystery of the April woods, Thy spirit now Makes musical the rainbird's interludes, And pink the peach-tree bough. In the new birth of all things bright and fair, 'Tis only thou Art very April, glory, light and air, And joy and ardour now! ?79 AFTERSONG. These are the joyous songs The shy sea children sing, When the moon goes down the west, Soft as a pale moth wing; When the gnat and the bumblebee In the gauze of sleep are fast, And a fairy summer dream Is the only thing will last. These are the ever-songs The heart of the sea will sing. When ash-coloured birds are building, And lilac thickets ring; 1 80 SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN When June is an open road For every soul that stirs; When scarlet voices summon, And not a foot defers. These are the twilight songs Out of the simple North, Where the marchers of the night In silent troops go forth; Where Alioth sails and sails Forever round the pole, And wonder brings no sad Disquietude of soul. And all their bodily beauty Must flower a moment and die, As the rain goes down the sea-rim, The streamers up the sky; l8i SONGS OF THE SEA CHILDREN Till time as a falling echo Shall sift them over and o'er, And the wind between the stars Can tell their words no more. Yet the lyric beat and cry Which frets the poor frail things Shall pass from joy to joy Up through a thousand springs, Teasing the sullen years Out of monotony, As reedbirds pour their rapture By the unwintered sea. 182 Copyright, iqoi By Bliss Carman Copyright, igoj By Perry Mason Company Copyright, igoj By The Outlook Company Copyright, IQOJ By The Scott- Thaw Company Copyright, Jg04 By L. C. Page & Company (incorporated) All rights reserved Published August, ig04 COLONIAL PRESS Electrotyped and Printed by C. H . Simonds &' Co. Boston, Mass., U.S.A. CONTENTS Page Our Lady of the Rain i In a Grand Pre Garden 12 The Keepers of Silence 27 At Home and Abroad 3° Killooleet 3 5 St. Bartholomew's on the Hill .... 39 The Church of the Leaves 4^ The Deep Hollow Road 4^ Malyn's Daisy 4^ Above the Gaspereau 5° The Ballad of Father Hudson .... 79 The Word at St. Kavin's 87 Christmas Eve at St. Kavin's .... 102 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN. Across the purple valleys, Along the misty hills, By murmur-haunted rivers And silver-gurgling rills, By vi^oodland, swamp and barren, By road and field and plain, Arrives the Green Enchantress, Our Lady of the Rain. Her pure and mystic planet Is lighted in the west; In ashy-rose and lilac Of melting evening dressed. With golden threads of sunset Inwoven in her gown, I OUR LADY OF THE RAIN With glamour of the springtime She has bewitched the town. Her look is soft with dreaming On old forgotten years; Her eyes are grave and tender With unpermitted tears; For she has known the sorrows Of all this weary earth, Yet ever brings it gladness, Retrieval and new birth. And when her splendid pageant, Sidereal and slow. With teeming stir and import Sweeps up from line to snow, There's not an eager mortal But would arise and make Some brave unpromised venture For her immortal sake. OUR LADY OF THE RAIN For no man knows what power Is sleeping in the seed, What destiny may slumber Within the smallest deed. In calm no fret can hurry, Nor any fear detain. She brings our own to meet us — Our Lady of the Rain. She saw the red clay moulded And quickened into man ; The sweetness of her spirit Within his pulses ran ; The ardour of her being Was in his veins like fire, The unreluctant passion, The unallayed desire. 'Twas she who brought rejoicing To Babylon and Ur. 3 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN To Carthage and to Sidon Men came to worship her. Her soft spring rites were honoured At Argolis and Troy, And dark Caldean women Gave thanks to her for joy. With cheer and exaltation With hope for all things born, To hearten the disheartened, To solace the forlorn, Too gentle and all-seeing For judgment or disdain, She comes with loving kindness — Our Lady of the Rain. With magical resurgence For all the sons of men She crosses winter's frontier. They know not whence nor when. 4 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN Yet silently as sunlight Along the forest floor Her step is on the threshold, Her shadow at the door. On many a lonely clearing Among the timbered hills She calls across the distance, Until the twilight fills With voice of loosened waters, And from the marshy ground T(he frogs begin refilling Their flutes with joyous sound. Then note by note is lifted The chorus clear and shrill, And all who hear her summons Must answer to her will ; For she will not abandon The old Pandean strain 5 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN That called the world from chaos - Our Lady of the Rain. And still her wondrous music Comes up with early spring, And meadowland and woodland With silver wildness ring; The sparrow by the roadside, The wind among the reeds, Whoever hears that piping Must follow where it leads. Though no man knows the reason, Nor how the rumour spread, Through canyon-streeted cities Her message has been sped ; And some forgotten longing To hear a bluebird sing Bids folk from open windows Look forth — and it is spring. 6 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN Come out into the sunshine, You dwellers of the town, Put by your anxious dolors, And cast your sorrows down. O, starved and pampered people, How futile is your gain ! Behold, there comes to heal you Our Lady of the Rain. Go where the buds are breaking Upon the cherry bough. And the strong sap is mounting In every tree-trunk now; Where orchards are in blossom On every spray and spire, Go hear the orioles whistle And pass like flecks of fire. Go find the first arbutus Within the piney wood, 7 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN And learn from that shy dweller How sweet is solitude ; Go listen to the white-throat In some remote ravine Rehearse in tranquil patience His ecstasy serene. Go down along the beaches And borders of the sea, When golden morning kindles That blue immensity, And watch the white sails settle Below the curving rim Of this frail vast of colour, Diaphanous and dim. Go watch by brimming river Or reedy-marged lagoon The wild geese row their galley Across the rising moon, 8 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN That comes up like a bubble Out of the black fir-trees, And ask what mind invented Such miracles as these. Who came when we were sleeping And wrought this deathless lure, This vivid vernal wonder Improbable and sure? Where Algol and Bootes Mark their enormous range. What seraph passed in power To touch the world with change? What love's unerring purpose Reveals itself anew In these mysterious transports Of tone and shape and hue? Doubt not the selfsame impulse Throbs in thy restless side, 9 OUR LADY OF THE RAIN Craves at the gates of being, And would not be denied. Be thou the west wind's brother, And kin to bird and tree, The soul of spring may utter Her oracles to thee; Her breath shall give thee courage, Her tan shall touch thy cheek, The words of sainted lovers Be given thee to speak. Fear not the mighty instinct, The great Aprilian Creed ; The House of Spring is open And furnished for thy need. But fear the little wisdom, The paltry doubt and vain, And trust without misgiving Our Lady of the Rain, lo OUR LADY OF THE RAIN What foot would fail to meet her, And who would stay indoor, When April in her glory- Comes triumphing once more — When adder-tongue and tulip Put on their coats of gold, And all the world goes love-mad For beauty as of old? At every year's returning Tlie swallows will be here, The stalls be gay with jonquils, The dogwood reappear; And up from the southwestward Come back to us again With sorceries of gladness — Our Lady of the Rain. II IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN. In a garden over Grand Pre, dewy in the morning sun, Here in earliest September with the summer nearly done, Musing on the lovely world and all its beauties, one by one ! Bluets, marigolds, and asters, scarlet poppies, purple phlox, — Who knows where the key is hidden to those frail yet perfect locks In the tacit doors of being where the soul stands still and knocks? 12 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN There is Blomidon's blue sea-wall, set to guard the turbid straits Where the racing tides have entry; but who keeps for us the gates In the mighty range of silence where man's spirit calls and waits? Where is Glooscaap? There's a legend of that saviour of the West, The benign one, whose all-wisdom loved beasts well, though men the best. Whom the tribes of Minas leaned on, and their villages had rest. Once the lodges were defenceless, all the warriors being gone On a hunting or adventure. Like a panther on a fawn. On the helpless stole a war-band, ambushed to attack at dawn. 13 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN But with night came Glooscaap. Sleeping he sur- prised them; waved his bow; Through the summer leaves descended a great frost, as white as snow; Sealed their slumber to eternal peace and stillness long ago. Then a miracle. Among them, while still death undid their thews, Slept a captive with her children. Such the magic he could use, She arose unharmed with morning, and depart- ing, told the news. He, too, when the mighty Beaver had the country for his pond, All the way from the Pereau here to Bass River and bej^ond. Stoned the rascal ; drained the Basin ; routed out that vagabond. 14 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN You can see yourself Five Islands Glooscaap flung at him that day, When from Blomidon to Sharp he tore the Bea- ver's dam away, — Cleared the channel, and the waters thundered out into the bay. (Do we idle, little children? Ah, well, there is hope, maybe. In mere beauty which enraptures just such ne'er- do-wells as we! I must go and pick my apples. Malyn will be calling me!) Here he left us — see the orchards, red and gold in every tree ! — All the land from Gaspereau to Portapique and Cheverie, All the garden lands of Minas and a passage out to sea. IS IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN You can watch the white-sailed vessels through the meadows wind and creep. All day long the pleasant sunshine, and at night the starry sleep, While the labouring tides that rest not have their business with the deep! So I get my myth and legend of a breaker-down of bars, Putting gateways in the mountains with their thousand-year-old scars, That the daring and the dauntless might steer outward by the stars. So my demiurgic hero lays a frost on all our fears. Dead the grisly superstition, dead the bigotry of years. Dead the tales that frighten children, when the pure white light appears. i6 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN Thus did Glooscaap of the mountains. What doth Balder of the flowers, Balder, the white lord of April, who comes back amid the showers And the sunshine to the Northland to revive this earth of ours? First, how came my garden, where untimely not a leaf may wilt? For a thousand years the currents trenched the rock and wheeled the silt, Dredged and filled and smoothed and levelled, toiling that it might be built. For the moon pulled and the sun pushed on the derrick of the tide; And a great wind heaved and blustered, — swung the weight round with a stride, Mining tons of red detritus out of the old moun- tain side, — 17 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN Bore them down and laid them even by the mouth of stream and rill For the quiet lowly doorstep, for cemented joist and sill Of our Grand Pre, where the cattle lead their shadows or lie still. So my garden floor was founded by the labour- ing frugal sea. Deep and virginal as Eden, for the flowers that were to be. All for my great drowsy poppies and my mari- golds and me. Who had guessed the unsubstantial end and out- come of such toil, — These, the children of a summer, whom a breath of frost would foil, I, almost as faint and fleeting as my brothers of the soil? i8 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN Did those vague and drafty sea-tides, as they journeyed, feel the surge Of the prisoned life that filled them seven times full from verge to verge. Mounting to some far achievement where its ardour might emerge? Are they blinder of a purpose in their courses fixed and sure, Those sea arteries whose heavings throb through Nature's vestiture, Than my heart's frail valves and hinges which so perilously endure? Do I say to it, " Give over! " — Can I will, and it will cease? Nay, it stops but with destruction ; knows no res- pite nor release. I, who did not start its pulses, cannot bid them be at peace. 19 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN Thus the great deep, framed and fashioned to a thought beyond its own, Rocked by tides that race or sleep without its will from zone to zone, Setting door-stones for a people in a century un- known, Sifted for me and my popples the red earth we love so well. Gently there, my fine logician, brooding In your lone grey cell! Was it all for our contentment such a miracle befell? No; because my drowsy popples and my mari- golds and I Have this human need In common, nodding as the wind goes by ; There Is that supreme within us no one life can satisfy. 20 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN With their innocent grave faces lifted up to meet my own, They are but the stranger people, swarthy chil- dren of the sun, Gypsies tenting at our door to vanish ere the year is done. (How we idle, little children! Still our best of tasks may be. From distraction and from discord without base- ness to get free. I must go and pick my apples. Malyn will be calling me!) Humbly, then, most humbly ever, little brothers of the grass. With Aloha at your doorways I salute you as you pass, I who wear the mortal vesture, as our custom ever was. 21 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN Known for kindred by the habit, by the tanned and crimson stain, Earthlings in the garb ensanguined just so long as we remain, You for days and I for seasons mystics by the common strain, Till we tread the virgin threshold of a great moon red and low. Clean and joyous while we tarry, and uncraven when we go From the rooftree of the rain-wind and the broad eaves of the snow. And this thing called life, which frets us like a fever without name. Soul of man and seed of poppy no mortality can tame. Smouldering at the core of beauty till it breaks in perfect flame, — 22 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN What it is I know not; only I know they and I are one, By the lure that bids us linger in the great House of the Sun, By the fervour that sustains us at the door we can- not shun. From a little wider prospect, I survey their bright domain ; On a rounder dim horizon, I behold the plough- man rain ; All I have and hold so lightly, they will perish to attain. Waking at the word of April with the South Wind at her heels, We await the revelation locked beneath the four great seals. Ice and snow and dark and silence, where the Northern search-light wheels. 23 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN Waiting till our Brother Balder walks the lovely earth once more, With the robin in the fir-top, with the rain-wind at the door. With the old unwearied gladness to revive us and restore. We abide the raptured moment, with the patience of a stone, Like ephemera our kindred, transmigrant from zone to zone. To that last fine state of being where they live on joy alone. O great Glooscaap and kind Balder, born of human heart's desire. When earth's need took shape and substance, and the impulse to aspire Passed among the new-made peoples, touching the red clay with fire, 24 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN By the myth and might of beauty, lead us and allure us still, Past the open door of wonder and oblivion's granite sill, Past the curtain of the sunset in the portals of the hill, To new provinces of wisdom, sailless latitudes cf soul. I for one must keep the splendid faith in good your lives extol, Well assured the love you lived by is my being's source and goal. Fearless when the will bids " Venture," or the sleepless mind bids " Know," Here among my lowly neighbours blameless let me come and go. Till I, too, receive the summons to the silent Tents of Snow. 25 IN A GRAND PRE GARDEN In a garden over Grand Pre, bathed in the seren- ity Of the early autumn sunlight, came these quiet thoughts to me. While the wind went down the orchard to the dikes and out to sea. (Idling yetf My flowery children, only far too well I see How this day will glow forever in fny life that is to be! I must go and pick my apples. There is Malyn calling me!) 26 THE KEEPERS OF SILENCE My hillside garden half-way up The mountains from the purple sea, Beholds the pomp of days go by In summer's gorgeous pageantry. I watch the shadows of the clouds Stream over Grand Pre in the sun, And the white fog seethe up and spill Over the rim of Blomidon. For past the mountains to the North, Like a great caldron of the tides, Is Fundy, boiling round their base. And ever fuming up their sides. 27 THE KEEPERS OF SILENCE Yet here within my valley world No breath of all that tumult stirs; The little orchards sleep in peace; Forever dream the dark blue firs. And while far up the gorges sweep The silver legions of the showers, I have communion with the grass And conversation with the flowers. More wonderful than human speech Their dialect of silence is, The simple Dorian of the fields, So full of homely subtleties. When the dark pansies nod to say Good morning to the marigolds, Their velvet taciturnity Reveals as much as it withholds„ 28 THE KEEPERS OF SILENCE I always half expect to hear Some hint of what they mean to do ; But never is their fine reserve Betrayed beyond a smile or two. Yet very well at times I seem To understand their reticence, And so, long since, I came to love My little brothers by the fence. Perhaps some August afternoon. When earth is only half-aware, They will unlock their heart for once. How sad if I should not be there! 29 AT HOME AND ABROAD. My modest Northern garden Is full of yellow flowers, And quaking leaves and sunlight And long noon hours. It hangs upon the hillside Above the little town ; And there in pleasant weather You can look far down, To the broad dikes of Grand Pre Roamed over by the herds, And the purple Minas water Where fish the white sea-birds. 30 AT HOME AND ABROAD I watch the little vessels, Where the slow rivers glide Between the grassy orchards. Come in upon the tide. For daily there accomplished Is the sea's legerdemain. To fill the land with rivers And empty it again. Before j^ou lies North Mountain, Built like a long sea-wall — A wonder in blue summer And in the crimson fall. The sea-fogs cloud and mantle Along its fir-dark crest, While under it the fruit-lands Have shelter and have rest. 31 AT HOME AND ABROAD And when the goblin moonlight Loiters upon her round Of valley, marsh and mountain To bless my garden-ground, — (The harvest moon that lingers Until her task is done, And all the grain is ripened For her great lord, the sun,) I know that there due northward, Under the polar star. Sir Blomidon is fronting Whatever stornjs there are. I cannot see those features I love so well by day. Calmed by a thousand summers, Scarred by the winter's play; 32 AT HOME AND ABROAD Yet there above the battle Of the relentless tides, Under the solemn starlight He muses and abides. And in the magic stillness, The moonlight's ghostly gleam Makes me its sylvan brother, To rove the world a-dream. That wa5rvvard and oblivious Mortal I seem to be Shall habit not forever This garden by the sea. Not Blomidon nor Grand Pre Shall be his lasting home, Nor all the Ardise country Give room enough to roam. 33 AT HOME AND ABROAD Even to-night a little He strays, and will not bide The gossip of the flowers, The rumour of the tide. He must be forth and seeking, Beyond this garden-ground, The arm-in-arm companion For whom the sun goes round. And in the soft May weather I walk with you again, Where the terraces of Meudon Look down upon the Seine. 34 KILLOOLEET. There's a wonderful woodland singer In the North, called Killooleet, — That is to say Little Sweetvoice In the tongue of the Milicete, The tribe of the upper Wolaastook, Who range that waterway From the blue fir hills of its sources To the fogs and tides of the bay. All day long in the sunshine, All night long through the rains, On the grey wet cedar barrens And the lonely blueberry plains, 35 KILLOOLEET You may hear Killooleet singing, Hear his O sweet (Then a grace-note, then the full cadence), Killooleet, Killooleet, Killooleet! Whenever you dip a paddle, Or set a pole in the stream, Killooleet marks the ripple, Killooleet knows the gleam; Killooleet gives you welcome, Killooleet makes you free With the great sweet wilderness freedom That holds over land and sea. You may slide your birch through the alders, Or camp where the rapids brawl, The first glad forest greeting Will still be Killooleet's call. 36 KILLOOLEET Wherever you drive a tent-pin, Or kindle a fire at night, Killooleet comes to the ridge-pole, Killooleet answers the light. The dark may silence the warblers; The heavy and thunderous hush That comes before storm may stifle The pure cool notes of the thrush; The waning season may sober Bobolink, bluebird, and quail ; But Killooleet's stainless transport Will not diminish nor fail. Henceforth you shall love and fear not, Remembering Killooleet's song Haunting the wild waste places, Deliberate, tranquil, and strong; 37 KILLOOLEET And so you shall come without cunning, But wise in the simpler lore, To the House of the Little Brothers, And God will open the door. 38 ST. BARTHOLOMEW'S ON THE HILL. " Bartholomew with his cold dew.** Bartholomew, my brother, I like your roomy church ; I like your way of leaving No sinners in the lurch. I wish the world were wealthy In ministers like you. When at the lovely August You give the blessed dew. I love your rambling Abbey, So long ago begun. Whose choirs are in the tree-tops, Whose censer is the sun. 39 ST. BARTHOLOMEW S ON THE HILL Its windows are the morning; Its rafters are the stars; The fog-banks float like incense Up from its purple floors. And where the ruddy apples Make lamps in the green gloom, The flowers in congregation Are never pressed for room ; But in your hillside chapel, Gay with its gorgeous paints. They bow before the Presence, — Sweet merry little saints! 40 THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES. In French Canadian legendry, A rising from the dead recurs Each Christmastide. The old cure. With his parishioners Around him, in the night returns; And while his voice renews its bond In the beloved offices, The ghostly flock respond. Just so, we keep the forms of faith That wrought and moved us long ago; We mark the height man's soul attained. Forgetting it must grow. 41 THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES Those venerable outgrown shells Wherefrom the radiant life is fled, — We wrong with our idolatry The dogmas of the dead. But He who walked with the world-soul At twilight in Gethsemane, Breathing among the listening boughs Sweet prayers of charity, Must daily with the wind return About the dim world, to renew The trembling litanies of the leaves, The blessings of the dew. He must revive with wind-sweet voice The gospel hardly known to flesh. Till the same spirit speaks again, Interpreting afresh; 42 THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES Till the vast house of trees and air Reverberates from roof to floor With meanings of mysterious things We need to ask no more. For still He walks these shadowy aisles, Dreaming of beauties still to be, More manly than our manliest, Whose thought and love were free. The pines are all His organ pipes. And the great rivers are His choir; And creatures of the field and tide That reck not, yet aspire. Our brothers of the tardy hope. Put forth their strength in senses dim. Threading the vast, they know not why, Through eons up to Him. 43 THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES I see Him in the orchard glooms, Watching the russet apples tan, With the serene regard of one Who is more God than man. And where the silent valley leads The small white water through the hills, And the black spruces stand unmoved, And quiet sunlight fills The world and time with large slow peace. It is His patience waiting there Response from lives whose breath is but The echo of His prayer. Brother of Nazareth, behold, We, too, perceive this life expand Beyond the daily need, for use Thy thought must understand. 44 THE CHURCH OF THE LEAVES Not for ourselves alone we strive, Since Thy perfection manifest Bids self resign what self desired, Postponing good for best. And in the far unfretted years, The generations we uphold Shall reach the measure of Tliy heart. The stature of Thy mould. 45 THE DEEP HOLLOW ROAD. Cool in the summer mountain's heart, It lies in dim mysterious shade, Left of the highway turning in With grassy rut and easy grade. The marshes and the sea behind, The solemn fir-blue hills before; Here is the inn for Heavy-heart And this is weary Free-foot's door. O fellow^s, I have known it long; For joy of life turn in with me; We bivouac with peace to-night. And good-bye to the brawling sea. 46 THE DEEP HOLLOW ROAD You hear? That's master thrush. He knows The voluntaries fit for June, And when to falter on the flute In the satiety of noon. A mile or two we follow in This rosy streak through forest gloom, Then for the ample orchard slopes And all the earth one snowy bloom! 47 MALYN'S DAISY. You know it. Rays of ashy blue Around a centre small and golden, An autumn face of cheery hue And fashion olden. When the year rests at Michaelmas Before the leaves must vanish faster, The country people see it pass And call it aster. It does not come with joy and June; It knows God's time is sometimes tardy; And waits until we need the boon Of spirit hardy. 48 MALYNS DAISY So unobtrusive, yet so fair, About a world it makes so human, Its touch of grace is everywhere — Just like a woman. Along the road and up the dike It wanders when the noons are hazy, To tell us what content is like ; That's Malyn's daisy. 49 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU. TO H. E. C. There are sunflowers too in my garden on top of the hill, Where now in early September the sun has his will, — The slow autumn sun that goes leisurely, taking his fill Of life in the orchards and fir woods so moveless and still ; As if, should they stir, they might break some illu- sion and spill The store of their long summer musing on top of the hill. 50 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU The crowds of black spruces in tiers from the val- ley below, Ranged round their sky-roofed coliseum, mount row after row. How often there, rank above rank, they have watched for the slow Silver-lanterned processions of twilight, — the moon's come and go! How often as if they expected some bugle to blow. Announcing a bringer of news they were breath- less to know. They have hushed every leaf, — to hear only the murmurous flow Of the small mountain river sent up from the valley below! How still through the sweet summer sun, through the soft summer rain, 51 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU They have stood there awaiting the summons should bid them attain The freedom of knowledge, the last touch of truth to explain The great golden gist of their brooding, the mar- vellous train Of thought they have followed so far, been so strong to sustain, — The bright gospel of sun and the pure revelations of rain! Then the orchards that dot, all in order, the green valley floor. Every tree with its boughs weighed to earth, like a tent from whose door Not a lodger looks forth, — yet the signs are there gay and galore, The great ropes of red fruitage and russet, crisp snow to the core. 52 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Can the dark-eyed Romany here have deserted of yore Their camp at the coming of frost? Will they seek it no more? Who dwells in St. Eulalie's village? Who knows the fine lore Of the tribes of the apple-trees there on the green valley floor? Who, indeed? From the blue mountain gorge to the dikes by the sea, Goes that stilly wanderer, small Gaspereau ; who but he Should give the last hint of perfection, the touch that sets free From the taut string of silence the whisper of beauties to be! The very sun seems to have tarried, turned back a degree, S3 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU To lengthen out noon for the apple-folk here by the sea. What Is It ? Who comes ? What's abroad on the blue mountainside? A hush has been laid on the leaves and will not be defied. Is the great Scarlet Hunter at last setting out on his ride From the North with deliverance now? Were the lights we descried Last night in the heavens his camp-fires seen far and wide, The white signal of peace for whose coming the ages have cried ? " Expectancy lingers; fulfilment postponed," I replied, When soul said uneasily, " Who is it haunts your hillside?" 54 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU All the while not a word from my sunflowers here on the hill. And to-night when the stars over Blomidon flower and fill The blue Northern garden of heaven, so pale and so still, From the lordly king-aster Aldebaran there by the sill Of the East, where the moonlight will enter, not one will fulfil A lordlier lot than my sunflowers here on the hill. So much for mere fact, mere impression. So much I portray Of the atmosphere, colour, illusion of one autumn day, In the little Acadian village above the Grand Pre; 55 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Just the quiet of orchards and firs, where the sun had full sway, And the river went trolling his soft wander-song to the bay, While roseberry, aster, and sagaban tangled his way. Be you their interpreter, reasoner; tell what they say, These children of silence whose patient regard I portray. You Londoner, walking in Bishopsgate, stroll- ing the Strand, Some morning in autumn afford, at a fruit- dealer's stand, The leisure to look at his apples there ruddy and tanned. Then ask, w^hen he's smiling to serve you, if choice can command S6 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU A Gravenstei'n grown oversea on Canadian land. (And just for the whim's sake, for once, you'll have no other brand!) How teach )^ou to tell them? Pick one, and with that in your hand, Bethink you awhile as you turn again into the Strand. "What if," you will say, — so smooth in your hand it will lie. So round and so firm, of so rich a red to the eye, Like a dash of Fortuny, a tinge of some Indian dye, While you turn it and toss, mark the bloom, ere you taste it and try, — " Now what if this grew where the same bright pavilion of sky Is stretched o'er the valley and hillside he bids me descry, 57 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU The windless valley of peace, where the seasons go by, And the river goes down through the orchards where long shadows lie! " There's the fruit in your hand, in your ears is the roar of the street, The pulse of an empire keeping its volume and beat. Its sure come and go day and night, while we sleep or we eat. Taste the apple, bite in to the juice; how abun- dant and sweet ! As sound as your own English heart, and whole- some as wheat. There grow no such apples as that in your Bishopsgate street. Or perhaps in St. Helen's Place, when your business is done 58 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU And the ledgers put by, you will think of the hundred and one Commissions and errands to do ; but what under the sun Was that, so important? Ah, yes! the new- books overrun The old shelves. It is high time to order a new set begun. Then off to the joiner's. You enter to see his plane run With a long high shriek through the lumber he's working upon. Then he turns from his shavings to query what you would have done. But homeward 'tis you who make question. That song of the blade! And the sharp sweet cry of the wood, what an answer it made! 59 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU What stories the joiner must hear, as he plies his clean trade, Of all the wild life of the forest where long shadows wade The untrodden moss, and the firs send a journey- ing shade So slow through the valley so far from the song of his blade. Come back to my orchards a moment. They're waiting for you. How still are the little grey leaves where the pippins peep through! The boughs where the ribstons hang red are half-breaking in two. Above them September in magical soft Northern blue Has woven the spell of her silence, like frost or like dew, 60 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Yet warm as a poppy's red dream. When All Saints shall renew The beauty of summer awhile, will their dream- ing come true? Ah, not of my Grand Pre they dream, nor your London and you! Their life is their own, and the surge of it. All through the spring They pushed forth their buds, and the rainbirds at twilight would sing. They put forth their bloom, and the world was as fairy a thing As a Japanese garden. Then midsummer came with a zing And the clack of the locust; then fruit-time and coolness, to bring This aftermath deep underfoot with its velvety spring. 6i ABOVE THE GASPEREAU And they all the while with the fatherly, motherly care, Taking sap from the strength of the ground, taking sun from the air, Taking chance of the frost and the worm, taking courage to dare. Have given their life that the life might be goodly and fair In their kind for the seasons to come, with good witness to bear How the sturdy old race of the apples could give and not spare. To-morrow the harvest begins. We shall rifle them there Of the beautiful fruit of their bodies, the crown of their care. How lovingly then shall the picker set hand to the bough ! — 62 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Bid it yield, ere the seed come to earth or the graft to the plough, Not only sweet life for its kind, as the instincts allow. That savour and shape may survive generations from now. But life to its kin who can say, " I am stronger than thou," — Fulfilling a lordlier law than the law of the bough. I heard before dawn, with planets beginning to quail, — " Whoso hath life, let him give, that my purpose prevail : Whoso hath none, let him take, that his strength may be hale. Behold, T have reckoned the tally, I keep the full tale. 63 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Whoso hath love, let him give, lest his spirit grow stale; Whoso hath none, let him die; he shall whither and fail. Behold I will plenish the loss at the turn of the scale. He hath law to himself, who hath love; ye shall hope and not quail." Then the sun arose, and my sunflowers here on the hill. In free ceremonial turned to the East to fulfil Their daily observance, receiving his peace and his will, — The lord of their light who alone bids the dark- ness be nil, The lord of their love who alone bids the life in them thrill; Undismayed and serene, they awaited him here on the hill. 64 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Ah, the patience of earth! Look down at the dark pointed firs; They are carved out of blackness; one pattern recurs and recurs. They crowd all the gullies and hillsides, the gashes and spurs, As silent as death. What an image! How nature avers The goodness of calm with that taciturn beauty of hers! As silent as sleep. Yet the life in them climbs and upstirs. They too have received the great law, know that haste but defers The perfection of time, — the initiate gospeller firs. So year after year, slow ring upon ring, they have grown. ^^ ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Putting infinite long-loving care into leafage and cone, By the old ancient craft of the earth they have pondered and known In the dead of the hot summer noons, as still as a stone. Not for them the gay fruit of the thorn, nor the high scarlet roan. Nor the plots of the deep orchard-land where the apples are grown. In winter the wind, all huddled and shuddering, came To warm his old bones by the fires of sunset aflame Behind the black house of the firs. When the moose-birds grew tame In the lumberer's camps in the woods, what marvellous fame 66 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU His talk and the ice of his touch would spread and proclaim, Of the berg and the floe of the lands without nation or name, Where the earth and the sky, night and noon, north and south are the same, The white and awful Nirvana of cold whence he came! Then April, some twilight picked out with a great yellow star, Returning, like Hylas long lost and come back with his jar Of sweet living water at last, having wandered so far. Leads the heart out-of-doors, and the eye to the point of a spar, At whose base in the half-melted snow the first Mayflowers are, — ^1 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU And there the first robin Is pealing below the great star. So soon, oversoon, the full summer. Within those dark boughs, Deliberate and far, a faltering reed-note will rouse The shy transports of earth, till the wood-crea- tures hear where they house. And grow bold as the tremble-eared rabbits that nibble and mouse. While up through the pasture-lot, startling the sheep as they browse. Where kingbirds and warblers are piercing the heat's golden drowse. Some girl, whom the sun has made tawny, the wind had to blowse. Will come there to gentle her lover beneath those dark boughs. 68 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Then out of the hush, when the grasses are frosty and old, Will the chickadee's tiny alarm against winter be rolled; And soon, when the ledges and ponds are bitten with cold. The honk of the geese, that wander-cry stirring and bold, Will sound through the night, where those hardy mariners hold The uncharted course through the dark, as it is from of old. Ah, the life of the woods, how they share and partake of it all. These evergreens, silent as Indians, solemn and tall! From the goldenwing's first far-heard awaken- ing call, 69 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU The serene flute of the thrush in his high beech hall, And the pipe of the frog, to the bannered ap- proach of the fall, And the sullen wind, when snow arrives on a squall. Trooping in all night from the North with news would appal Any outposts but these; with a zest they partake of it all. Lo, out of the hush they seem to mount and aspire ! From basement to tip they have builded, with heed to go higher, One circlet of branches a year with their lift of green spire. Nay, rather they seem to repose, having done with desire, 70 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Awaiting the frost, with the fruit scarlet-bright on the briar, Each purpose fulfilled, each ardour that bade them aspire. Then hate be afar from the bite of the axe that shall fell These keepers of solitude, makers of quiet, who dwell On the slopes of the North. And clean be the hand that shall quell The tread of the sap that was wont to go mount- ing so well. Round on round with the sun in a spiral, slow cell after cell, As a bell-ringer climbs in a turret. That resinous smell From the eighth angel's hand might have risen with the incense to swell 71 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU His offering in heaven, when the half-hour's si- lence befell. Behold, as the prayers of the saints that went up to God's knees In John's Revelation, the silence and patience of these Our brothers of orchard and hill, the unhurry- ing trees, To better the burden of earth till the dark suns freeze, Shall go out to the stars with the sound of Acadian seas. And the scent of the wood-flowers blowing about their great knees. To-night when Altair and Alshain are ruling the West, Whence Bootes is driving his dogs to long hunt- ing addressed; 72 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU With Alioth plumb over Blomldon standing at rest; When Algol is leading the Pleiades over the crest Of the magical East, and the South puts Al- pherat to test With Menkar just risen ; will come, like a sigh from Earth's breast, The first sob of the tide turning home, — one distraught in his quest Forever, and calling forever the wind in the west. And to-night there will answer the ghost of a sigh on the hill, So small you would say. Is it wind, or the frost with a will Walking down through the woods, w^ho to- morrow shall show us his skill 73 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU In yellows and reds? So noiseless, It hardly will thrill The timorous aspens, which tremble when all else is still; Yet the orchards will know, and the firs aware on the hill. " O Night, I am old, I endure. Since my be- ing began, When out of the dark the aurora spread up like a fan, I have founded the lands and the islands; the hills are my plan. I have covered the pits of the earth with my bridge of one span. From the Horn to Dunedin unbroken my long rollers ran. From Pentland and Fastnet and Feyle to Bras d'Or and Manan, 74 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU To dredge and upbuild for the creatures of tribe and of clan. Lo, now who shall end the contriving my fingers began? " Then the little wind that blows from the great star-drift Will answer, " Thou tide in the least of the planets I lift, Considers the journeys of light. Are thy journey- ings swift? Thy sands are as smoke to the star-banks I huddle and shift. Peace! I have seeds of the grasses to scatter and sift. I have freighting to do for the weed and the frail thistle drift. " O ye apples and firs, great and small are as one in the end. 75 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Because ye had life to the full, and spared not to spend; Because ye had love of your kind, to cherish and fend; Held hard the good Instinct to thrive, cleaving close to life's trend ; Nor questioned where Impulse had origin, — pur- pose might tend ; Now, beauty is yours, and the freedom whose promptings transcend Attainment forever, through death with new being to blend. O ye orchards and woods, death Is naught, love Is all In the end." Ah, friend of mine over the sea, shall we not discern. In the life of our brother the beech and our sister the fern, 76 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU As St. Francis would call them (his Minorites, too, would we learn!), In death but a door to new being no creature may spurn. But must enter for beauty's completion, — pass up in his turn To the last round of joy, yours and mine, whence to think and discern? Who shall say " the last round? " Have I passed by the exit of soul ? From behind the tall door that swings outward, replies no patrol To our restless Qui vivef when is paid each implacable toll. Not a fin of the tribes shall return, having cleared the great shoal; Not a wing of the migrants come back from below the dark knoll; 77 ABOVE THE GASPEREAU Yet the zest of the flight and the swimming who fails to extol? Saith the Riddle, "The parts are all plain; ye may guess at the whole." I guess, " Immortality, knowledge, survival of Soul." To-night, with the orchards below and the firs on the hill Asleep in the long solemn moonlight and taking no ill, A hand will open the sluice of the great sea- mill, — Start the gear and the belts of the tide. Then a murmur will fill The hollow^s of midnight with sound, when all else is still, A promise to hearten my sunflowers here on the hill. 78 THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON. You may doubt, but I heard the story Just as I tell it to you; And whatever you think of the setting, I believe the substance true. The great North Seaboard Province, From Fundy to Chaleurs, Is a country of many waters And sombre hills of fir. Where the moose still treads his snow-yard, Breaking his paths to browse, Where the caribou rove the barrens, And the bear and the beaver house; 79 THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON Where Killooleet sings from the ridge-pole All through the night and the rain, When the great blue Northern Summer Comes back to the wilds again. In that land of many rivers, Bogan and lake and stream, You may follow the trail in the water With the paddle's bend and gleam, Where the canoe, like a shadow Among the shadows, slips Under the quiet alders And over the babbling rips; You may go for a week together, Reading footmark and trace Of the wild shy woodland creatures. Ere you meet a human face. 80 THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON There where the Loyalists came And the houses of men were few, Little was all their wealth And great were the hardships they knew; But greater the hardy faith They kept unflinching and fine, And chose to be naught in the world For the pride of a loyal line. And there came Father Hudson, As I've heard my father tell, To serve the wilderness missions, With sound of a Sunday bell. Sober he was and a toiler. Cared not for ease nor place; They speak of his humour, too, And the long droll shaven face. 8i THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON Labour he did, and spared not, In that vineyard wild and rough, And often was sore with travel, And often hungry enough. Doubt not, as he carried the word By portage and stream and trail, That still in the mind of his people The fire of truth should prevail. And once was a church to build, Little, lonely, apart. Hardly more than a token In the forest's great green heart. With his own hands he reared it. And often was wet to the hide. And often slept on the shavings Till the birds sang outside ; 82 THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON Then up In the fragrant morning, And back to hammer and saw, Building into the timbers Love and devotion and awe. So the fair summer went by, And the church was finished at last; But Father Hudson was called To a country still more vast. In the land of the creaking snowshoe And the single track in the snow, There's many a thing of wonder No man will ever know. It happened about the feast Of the blessed Nativity, When the snow lay heavy and silent On every bending tree. 83 THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON When the great north lights were stalking Through the purple solitude, Father Hudson's successor Passed by the church in the wood. And it came to his mind to ponder What the requital may be Of toil that is done in the body, When the soul is at last set free; And whether the flame of fervour That is quenched in service here. Survives through self-surrender To illumine another sphere. Then he saw the place all lighted, Though it was not the hour of prayer, And the strains of a triumphing organ Came to him on the air. 84 THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON In amazement he turned aside. Who could the player be? And who had lighted the lights? The door still fast, the key On its nail in the little porch! He turned, put one foot on the sill, Unlocked, opened, and entered. The church was dark and still! The white-robed spruces around it Stood still with never a word ; The sifting snow at the w^indow Was all the good man heard. Verily, Father Hudson, Strong was thy sturdy creed. But stronger and more enduring The humble and holy deed. 8s THE BALLAD OF FATHER HUDSON Which SO could enthral the senses And lend the spirit sight To behold the glory of labour And love's availing might. O brave are the single-hearted Who deal v^^ith this life, and dare To live by the inward vision, — In the soul's native air. 86 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN'S. Once at St. Kavin's door I rested. No sign more Of discontent escaped me irom that day. For there I overheard A Brother of the Word Expound the grace of poverty, and say: Thank God for poverty That makes and keeps us free, That lets us go our unobtrusive way, Glad of the sun and rain, Upright, serene, humane, Contented with the fortune of a day, 87 THEWORDATST. KAVIN S Light-hearted as a bird, I will obey the word That bade the earth take form, the sea subside, — That bids the wild wings go Each year from line to snow. When Spring unfurls her old green flag for guide, — That bids the fleeting hosts Along the shelving coasts Once more adventure far by sound and stream, — Bids everything alive Awaken and revive, — Resume the unperished glory and the dream. I too, with fear put by. Confront my destiny, With not a wish but to arise and go, WTiere beauty still may lead From creed to larger creed, Thanking my Maker that he made me so. 88 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S For I would shun uo task That kindliness may ask, Nor flinch at any duty to my kind ; Praying but to be freed From ignorance and greed, Grey fear and dull despondency of mind. So I would readjust The logic of the dust, The servile hope that puts its trust in things. Ephemera of earth. Of more than fleeting worth, Are we, endowed with rapture as with wings. (Type of the soul of man, The slight yet stable plan ! Those creatures perishable as the dew, How buoyantly they ride The vast and perilous tide, Free as the air their courses to pursue!) 89 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S And I would keep my soul Joyous and sane and whole, Unshamed by falsehood and unvexed by strife, Unalien In that clear And radiant atmosphere That still surrounds us with a larger life. When we have laid aside Our truculence and pride, Craven self-seeking, turbulent self-will. Resolved this very day No longer to obey The tyrant Mammon who begods us still. All selfish gain at best Brings but profound unrest And inward loss, despite our loud professions. Think therefore what it is, What surety of bliss, To be absolved from burdensome possessions! 90 THEWORDATST. KAVIN S Shall God, who doth provide The majesty and pride And beauty of this earth so lavishly, Deny them to the poor And low^ly and obscure? Nay, they are given to all justly and free. And if I share my crust, As common manhood must, With one v^^hose need is greater than my own, Shall I not also give His soul, that it may live, Of the abundant pleasures I have known? And so, if I have wrought. Amassed or conceived aught Of beauty or intelligence or power, It is not mine to hoard ; It stands there to afford Its generous service simply as a flower. 91 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S How soon, my friends, how soon We should obtain the boon Of shining peace for which the toiler delves, If only we would give Our spirit room to live, — Be, here and now, our brave untarnished selves; If only we would dare Espouse the good and fair Our soul, unbound by custom, still perceives; And without compromise Or favour in men's eyes Live by the truth each one of us believes! Bow not to vested wrong That we have served too long. Pawning our birthright for a tinsel star! Shall the soul take upon her Time-service and mouth-honour? Behold the fir-trees, how unswerved they are! 92 THEWORDATST. KAVIN S Native to sun and storm, They cringe not nor conform, Save to the gentle law their sound heart knows; Each day enough for them To rise, cone, branch, and stem, A leaf-breadth higher in their tall repose. Ah, what a travesty Of man's ascent, were I To bear myself less royally than they, After the ages spent In spirit's betterment, Through rounds of aspiration and decay ! For surely I have grown Within a cleft of stone. With spray of mountain torrents in my face. Slow soaring ring by ring On moveless tiled wing, I have seen earth below me sink through space. . 93 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S I too in polar night Have hungered, gaunt and white, Alone amid the awful silences; And fled on gaudy fin. When the blue tides came in, Through coral gardens under tropic seas. And wheresoe'er I strove. The greater law was love, A faith too fine to falter or mistrust; There w^as no wanton greed, Depravity of breed. Malice nor cant nor enmity unjust. Nay, not till I was man. Learned I to scheme and plan The blackest depredation on my kind, Converting to my gain My fellow's need and pain. In chartered pillage ruthless and refined. 94 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S Therefore, my friends, I say, Back to the fair sweet way Our mother Nature taught us long ago, — The large primeval mood, Leisure and amplitude. The dignity of patience strong and slow. Let us go in once more, By some blue mountain door, And hold communion with the forest leaves, Where long ago we trod The Ghost House of the God, Through orange dawns and amethystine eves. There bright-robed choristers Make music in the firs, Rejoicing in their service all day long; And there the whole night through. Along the dark still blue, What glorying hosts with starry tapers throng! 95 THEWORDATST. KAVIN S There in some deep ravine Whose walls are living green, A sanctuary spacious, cool, and dim, At earth-refreshing morn, i he pure white clouds are born, — ilie incense of the ground sent up to Him. No slighted task is there, But equal craft and care And love in irresistible accord, The test and sign of art. Bestowed through every part; No thought of recognition or reward. In that diviner air We shall grow wise and fair, Not frayed by hurry nor distraught by noise, - Learn once again to be Noble, courageous, free, — Regain our primal ecstasy and poise. 96 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S Calm in the deep control Of firmamental soul, Let us abide unfretful and secure, Knowledge and reason bent To further soul's intent, — Her veiled dim purposes remote yet sure. For soul has led us now, Science unravels how. Through cell and tissue up from dust to man; And will lead by and by. No logic tells us why, To fill her purport in the ampler plan. Ah, trust the soul, my friends. To seek her own great ends Revealed not in the fashion of the hour! For she outlives intact The Insufficient act. Herself the source and channel of all power. 97 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S The soul survives, unmarred, The mind care-worn and scarred, That still is anxious over little things, To come unto her own. Through benefits unknown And the green beauty of a thousand springs. From infinite resource She holds her gleaming course Through toil, distraction, hindrance, and dismay. Till some high destiny. Accomplished by and by. Reveals the splendid hope that was her stay. Therefore should every hour Replenish her with power Of joy and love and freedom and fresh truth, That we even in age May share her heritage Of ancient wisdom with the heart of youth. 98 THE WORD AT ST. KAVIN S Lore of the worldly wise Is folly in her eyes. All-energy, all-knowledge, and all-love, Aware of deeps below This pageant that we know, Hers is the very faith accounted of By Him who rose and bade His friends be not afraid. When peril rocked their fishing-boat at sea, — Who bade the sick not fear, The sad be of good cheer. And in the hour they were made whole and free. The sceptic sees but part Of Nature's mighty heart. A wide berth would I give that dangerous shoal — Steer for the open sea, No sight of land, but free. Trusting my senses, shall I doubt my soul? 99 THEWORDATST. KAVIN S Let me each day anew My outward voyage pursue For the Far Islands and the Apple Lands. Till through the breaking gloom Some evening they shall loom, With one pale star above the lilac sands. Ah, that day I shall know How the shy wood-flowers grow In the deep forest, turning to the light; Untrammelled impulse still With glad obedient will The only guide out of ancestral night. Oh, I shall comprehend Truth at my journey's end, — What being is, and what I strive to be, — What soul in beauty's guise Eludes our wistful eyes. Yet surely Is akin to you and me. lOO THEWORDATST. KAVIN S Therefore, towards that supreme Knowledge, that unveiled dream, That promise of our life from day to day, The grace of joyousness Abide with us to bless And help us forth along the Perfect Way ! The voice of the good priest In benediction ceased ; The congregation like a murmur rose; And when I set my pack Once more upon my back, 'Twas light as any thistle-down that blows. loi CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN'S. To the assembled folk At great St. Kavin's spoke Young Brother Amiel on Christmas eve; I give you joy, my friends, That as the round year ends, We meet once more for gladness by God's leave. On other festal days For penitence or praise Or prayer we meet, or fulness of thanksgiving; To-night we calendar The rising of that star Which lit the old world with new joy of living. 1 02 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S 'Ah, we disparage still The Tidings of Good Will, Discrediting Love's gospel now as then! And with the verbal creed That God is love indeed, Who dares make Love his god before all men? Shall we not, therefore, friends. Resolve to make amends To that glad inspiration of the heart; To grudge not, to cast out Selfishness, malice, doubt. Anger and fear ; and for the better part, To love so much, so well, The spirit cannot tell The range and sweep of her own boundary ! There is no period Between the soul and God ; Love is the tide, God the eternal sea. 103 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Of old, men walked by fear; And if their God seemed near, It was the Avenger unto whom they bowed, — A wraith of their own woes, Vain, cruel, and morose. With anger and vindictiveness endowed. Of old, men walked by hate; The ruthless were the great; Their crumbling kingdoms stayed by might alone. Men saw vast empires die, Nor guessed the reason why, — The simple law of life as yet unknown As love. Then came our Lord, Proclaiming the accord Of soul and nature in love's rule and sway, The lantern that he set To light us, shining yet Along the Perfect Path wherein we stray. 104 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S To-day we walk by love; To strive Is not enough, Save against greed and ignorance and might. We apprehend peace comes Not with the roll of drums, But in the still processions of the night. And we perceive, not awe But love is the great law That binds the world together safe and whole. The splendid planets run Their courses in the sun ; Love is the gravitation of the soul. In the profound unknown, Illumined, fair, and lone, Each star is set to shimmer In its place. In the profound divine Each soul is set to shine, And its unique appointed orbit trace. 105 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S There is no near nor far, Where glorious Algebar Swings round his mighty circuit through the night, Yet where without a sound The winged seed comes to ground. And the red leaf seems hardly to alight. One force, one lore, one need For satellite and seed. In the serene benignity for all. Letting her time-glass run With star-dust, sun by sun. In Nature's thought there is no great nor small. There is no far nor near Within the spirit's sphere. The summer sunset's scarlet-yellow wings Are tinged with the same dye That paints the tulip's ply. And what is colour but the soul of things? 1 06 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S (The earth was without form; God moulded it with storm, Ice, flood, and tempest, gleaming tint and hue; Lest it should come to ill For lack of spirit still, He gave it colour, — let the love shine through. ) My joy of yesterday Is just as far away As the first rapture of my man's estate. A lifetime or an hour Has all there is of power. In Nature's love there is no small nor great. Of old, men said, " Sin not ; By every line and jot Ye shall abide; man's heart is false and vile." Christ said, " By Love alone In man's heart is God known; Obey the word no falsehood can defile." 107 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S The wise physician there Of our distress had care, And laid his finger on the pulse of time. And there to eyes unsealed Earth's secret lay revealed, The truth that knows not any age nor clime. The heart of the ancient wood Was a grim solitude, The sanction of a worship no less grim ; Man's ignorance and fear Peopled the natural year With forces evil and malign to him. He saw the wild, rough way Of cosmic powers at play; He did not see the love that lay below. Jehovah, Mars, and Thor, These were the gods of war He made in his own likeness long ago. io8 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Then came the Word, and said, " See how the world is made, — With how much loving kindness, ceaseless care. Not Wrath, but Love, call then The Lord of beasts and men. Whose hand sustains the sparrows in the air." And since that day we prove Only how great is love, Nor to this hour its greatness half believe. For to what other power Will life give equal dower, Or chaos grant one moment of reprieve! Look down the ages' line, Where slowly the divine Evinces energy, puts forth control; See mighty love alone Transmuting stock and stone, Infusing being, helping sense and soul. 109 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S And what is energy, In-working, which bids be The starry pageant and the life of earth? What is the genesis Of every joy and bliss, Each action dared, each beauty brought to birth ? What hangs the sun on high? What swells the growing rye ? What bids the loons cry on the Northern lake? What stirs in swamp and swale, When April winds prevail, And all the dwellers of the ground awake? What lurks in the dry seed, But waiting to be freed, Asleep and patient for a hundred years? Till of earth, rain, and sun, A miracle is done. Some magic calls the sleeper and he hears, — no CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Arouses, puts forth blade And leaf and bud, arrayed Some morning in that garb of rosy snow, The same fair matchless flower As shed its petal-shower Through old Iberean gardens long ago. What is it that endures. Survives, persists, immures Life's very self, preserving type and plan? — Yet learns the scope of change. As the long cycles range, — Looks through the eyes of bluebird, wolf, and man? What lurks in the deep gaze Of the old wolf? Amaze, Hope, recognition, gladness, anger, fear. But deeper than all these Love muses, yearns, and sees, And is the self that does not change nor veer. 1 1 1 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Not love of self alone, Struggle for lair and bone, But self-denying love of mate and young. Love that is kind and wise, Knows trust and sacrifice, And croons the old dark universal tongue. In Nature you behold But strivings manifold. Battle and conflict, tribe warring against tribe? Look deeper, and see all That death cannot appal, Failure intimidate, nor fortune bribe. Our brothers of the air Who come with June must dare. Be bold and strong, have knowledge, lust, and choice ; Yet think, when glad hosts throng The summer woods with song. Love gave them beauty and love lends them voice. 112 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Love surely in some form Bade them brave night and storm, — Was the dark binnacle that held them true, Those tiny mariners No unknown voyage deters, When the old migrant longing stirs anew. And who has understood Our brothers of the wood, Save he who put off guile and every guise Of violence, — made truce With panther, bear, and moose. As beings like ourselves whom love makes wise? For they, too, do love's will. Our lesser clansmen still ; The House of Many Mansions holds us all ; Courageous, glad, and hale, They go forth on the trail, Hearing the message, hearkening to the call. "3 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Oh, not fortuitous chance Alone, nor circumstance, Begot the creatures after their own kind; But always loving will Was present to fulfil The primal purpose groping up to mind. Adversity but bade New puissance spring to aid, New powers develop, new aptness come in play; Yet never function wrought Capacity from nought, — Gave skill and mastery to the shapes of clay; For always while new need Evoked new thought through deed, Old self was there to ponder, choose, and strive. Fortune might mould, evolve. But impulse must resolve. Equipped at length to know, rejoice, and thrive. 114 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S And evermore must Love Hearten, foresee, approve, And look upon the work and find it good ; Else would all effort fail, — The very stars avail Less than a swarm of fireflies in a wood. Take love out of the world One day, and we are hurled Back into night, to perish in the void. Love is the very girth And cincture of this earth, No stitch to be unloosed, no link destroyed. However wild and long The battle of the strong, Stronger and longer are the hours of peace, When gladness has its way Under the fair blue day, And life aspires, takes thought, bids good increase. "5 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S So dawns the awaited hour When the great cosmic power Of love was first declared by Christ; so too To-day we keep in mind His name who taught mankind That open secret old, yet ever new, — Commemorate his birth Who loved the kindly earth, Was gentle, strong, compassionate, humane, And tolerant and wise And glad, — the very guise And height of manhood not to lose again. Shall we not then forego Lavish perfunctory show, The burdensome display, the empty gift, That we may have to give To every soul alive Of love's illumination, cheer, and lift? ii6 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S See rich and poor be fed ! Break up thy soul for bread, Be loaves and fishes to the hungry heart, That a great multitude. Receiving of thy good. May bless the God within thee and depart! You workman, love your work Or leave it. Let no irk Unsteady the laborious hand, that still Must give the spirit play To follow her own way To beauty, through devotion, care, and skill. How otherwise find vent For soul's Imperious bent, Than thro' these hands for wonder-working made, When Love the sure and bold Guides to the unforetold? Blessed the craftsman who is unafraid! IT7 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Give Beauty her sweet will, Make love your mistress still, You lovers, nor delay! God's time be yours. Make low-born jealousy And doubt ashamed to be, And cast old envious gossip out-of-doors. Believe the truth of love, Enact the beauty of love, Praise and adore the goodliness of love. For we are wise by love, And strong and fair through love. No less than sainted and inspired wn'th love. Remember the new word The Syrian twilight heard, That marvellous discourse which John records, The one last great command The Master left his band, " Love one another! " And our time affords ii8 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S What greater scope than just To execute that trust? Love greatly; love; love is life's best employ. Neighbour, sweetheart, or friend, Love wholly, to love's end; So is the round world richer for your joy. Love only, one or all! Measure no great and small! Love is a seed, life-bearing, undecayed ; And that immortal germ Past bounds of zone and term Will grow and cover the whole world with shade. Sow love, it cannot fail; Adversity's sharp hail May cut all else to ground; fair love survives. The black frost of despair And slander's bitter air, — Love will outlast them by a thousand lives. 119 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Be body, mind and soul, Subject to love's control, Each loving to the limit of love's power; And all as one, not three. So is man's trinity Enhanced and freed and gladdened hour by hour. Beauty from youth to age. The body's heritage, Love will not forfeit by neglect nor shame; And knowledge, dearly bought, Love will account as nought. Unless it serve soul's need and body's claim. Let soul desire, mind ask, And body crave; our task Be to fulfil each want in love's own way. So shall the good and true Partake of beauty too, And life be helped and greatened day by day. 1 20 CHRISTMAS EVE AT ST. KAVIN S Spend love, and save it not; In act, in wish, in thought. Spend love upon this lifetime without stint. Let not the heart grow dry, As the good hours go by; Love now, see earth take on the glory tint. Open the door to-night Within your heart, and light The lantern of love there to shine afar. On a tumultuous sea Some straining craft, maybe, With bearings lost, shall sight love's silver star. THE END. T2I Ig^ FROM THB ^Is' Copyright, 1899, by The Century Company Copyright, 1902, by AiNSLEE Magazine Company Copyright, 1903, by The Ridgway- Thayer Company Copyright, 1903, 190S, by The Ess Ess Publishing Company (Incorporated) Copyright, 1904, 1905, by The Associated Sunday Magazine Copyright, 1905, by L. C. Page & Company (Incorporated) A II rights reserved COLONIAL PRESS Ehctrotyped and Printed by C. H . Sinionds 6* Co. Boston, U. S. A . CONTENTS. Page Ballad of the Young King's Madness . . i Across the Courtyard 20 A Neighbour's Creed 32 To One in Despair 35 At the Great Release 39 Morning and Evening 42 In an Iris Meadow 44 A Letter from Lesbos 47 The Players 59 The Mansion 61 Who Is the Owner ? 64 The Fairy Flower 66 Yvanhoe Ferrara 68 The Love - chant of King Hacko ... 73 The Creation of Lilith 77 In a Far Country 80 Song of the Four Worlds 83 Street Song at Night 89 vii CONTENTS The Least of Love 92 A Man's Last Word 95 A Midwinter Memory ....... 99 An Angel in Plaster 102 Vlll BALLAD OF THE YOUNG KING'S MADNESS. In a Kingdom long ago, as the story comes to me, There lived a sturdy folk by the borders of the sea; The snow-tipped mountains behind them guard- ing the East and the North, While open to Southward and Westward, were the sea-gates bidding them forth. Launching their boats through the breakers, casting their nets in the tide, The sea had given them daring, strength and endurance and pride; Watching their sheep with the eagles on many a lonely hill, THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS The Stars had given them knowledge and insight and ghostly skill ; For wisdom comes to the waiting as water comes to a mill, From unsluiced sources of silence where the chat- ter of life grows still. I. Over this sturdy people there ruled without favour or greed A man with the arm and heart of the olden kingly breed. There was never a sport nor contest, there was never a horse to tame. But the King would meet all comers, and was ever first in the game. A speaker of truth to all men, he carried his will with a word ; And Justice dwelt in his borders, nor ever un- sheathed her sword. THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Likable, open and reckless, he neither bullied nor feared, When over the rim of his empire threatening danger appeared, But in the face of his council laughed in his yellow beard. Yet his light-heart ways were a scandal to the seemly and the sage, He would turn from the weightiest business to rally a love-sick page. Twitting him for a laggard, making him blush with a jest. Shaming him for a waster by the good wine spilt on his vest. Never a band of minstrels passed, but he bade them in, Haling the lads by the shoulder, taking the maids by the chin; 3 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Till the courtyard gleamed with motley, and the palace rang with din. Courtiers lived on his bounty, lights-of-love supped at his board. Merry the time he gave them, priceless the wine he poured. Lavish of all his substance for the gay and care- less horde; Till long lips groaning abhorrence had evil things to foretell. But always the children loved him, and the women — passing well. II. So time wore on, and the King awoke one day with a start, To hear a strange new whisper of discontent in his heart. THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Pleasure he had in plenty, health, and compan- ions, and power; Yet what is all this life but a void and empty hour? Fair was the golden morning with April over the hill. He strolled to the gate of the palace and stood there grave and still. Watching the mountain shadows, then shut his teeth on his will. '' Bring me a horse," he ordered. They saddled his favourite bay; And down through the watered valley the young King rode away; Down through the flowery orchards, where the river babbles and shines, Past ford and smithy and farm, and up where the narrowing lines THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Of tillage and pasture vanish in the dusk of the purple pines. How speculation and rumour fluttered his folk that day! " Who can fathom his fancies? Mad as a hare! " said they. In a cleft of the solemn mountains, like a thought in earth's green heart, Stood a hospice of recluse men, quiet, secluded, apart. Having forgotten the w^orld and left distraction behind. For care of the troublous vi^ant and hunger of the mind. There as the night vv^as falling, the King on his red mare came, And they have w^elcomed the stranger, asking not station nor name. 6 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Who bides at the house of God needs neither money nor fame. Never an eyelid flickered, never a word betrayed They knew the habit and bearing accustomed to be obeyed; But after the rule of their order, equal in every- thing, With kingly love for a brother the brothers served their King. They gave him his seat at table, cell and habit and stall. The scanty fare and the hours of prayer, meekly he took them all; Nor ever they found him wanting in duties great or small. Lowly he sat before them and many a lecture heard, 7 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Questioned and reasoned and listened, argued, proved and conferred, And by many a lonely candle pondered the printed word. Daily the power of knowledge grew and spread in his face; Daily the look of the scholar glowed with a finer trace ; Daily the tan-flush faded and ever he grew in grace. As understanding within him climbed to her law- ful place. So from the man of sinew they made a student at last, Thoughtful and grave as he had been brave ; till, lo, three years had passed, And the young King yawned one day, stretching himself in the sun, 8 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS And murmured : " Now let's see what their book- learning has done! The arms grow feeble, alack! The foot and eye grow slow; Let's put their lore to the test. Good friends, this day I go." So said, so done. Mused the Brothers, watching him down the hill : " Feeble must be our virtue, if this hope comes to ill." They saw him lost in dust; and the sundown's dying rose Kindled their lofty hill-crest in its eternal snows. III. Now well the Kingdom prospered while the young King was away, For wise were the heads of his council, leaders of men in their day, 9 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Stubborn at fronting clamour, strong to govern and sway, Of tested honour and flawless tried in the world's assay. Yet there was joy at his coming, throngs that laughed with delight, Cheers as he passed and waving, children held in his sight. Flags hung out at the windows, and bonfires lit in the night. Comrades met on the corner, cronies talked in the door, " The merry times are returning ; we shall have revels once more." But they reckoned without their host, if they thought the glorious days Of the King's wild youth had returned with their * drinking and masques and plays. lO THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Sober he sat at council, wisely he judged and decreed, Till the frivolous gaped and muttered : " A paragon indeed ! " Tireless, toiling and thoughtful, steadfast, kingly and tall. But lonely he lived, unloving, blameless before them all. With never a rose in his bower nor a bosom- friend in his hall. And ever his brow grew whiter, his eye more hungry bright. For the blessing of peace escaped him, though he tolled by day and night. By lamplight and daylight he laboured, till his visage grew lean and grim, While his people saw and wondered, and their hearts went out to him. II THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS So he strove for a year or more, and never was seen to fail In the least or the greatest matter where dili- gence might avail. Yet ever he grew more restless, and ever his cheek more pale. IV. Now it chanced on another morning like that when he rode away. The King must come to his seaboard, where a foreign galleon lay, Black hull and gleaming canvas, with her decks in trim array; Long and graceful and speedy as a flying fish was she. Showing the scarlet pennon of the gypsies of the sea. 12 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS There in a dream he stood ; watching the surf and the sand ; Then all of a sudden he laughed, as the rowers rowed to land. " God of my fathers," he cried. " What manner of fool am I ? A landsman all my life, a sea-king will I die." Needs must they humour him then, whispering, " Mad once more! " As they heard him speak to the sailors, and saw him rowed from the shore. Small room to parley or caution, and smaller use to deplore; When a strong man comes to his stronghold, fate must yield him the door. Lightly he stood in the boat, when the bending rowers rowed ; 13 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS And the wind and the tide and the sun freshened and sparkled and glowed. There lay the sea before him fair as an open road. Last they saw of the King was at the helmsman's side, Gay in the light of adventure, while the vessel swung on the tide. With a song they hove her anchor; the sails drew taut and free; And she heeled to the wind and lessened on the long blue slope of the sea. V. The sun came up, the sun went down, the tide drew out and in. But never a word that seaport heard from for- eigner or kin, Rower, merchant, or sailorman, or the gypsies of the sea, 14 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Whither their prince had vanished, or what his fate might be; Till a thousand suns had circled, and twice a thousand tides Had swung the swaying harbour buoys and brimmed through the channel guides. Then through a winter twilight when the sun was a disk of red. The keen-eyed watcher beheld, as he gazed from the harbour-head, A moving speck like a seahawk crossing that targe of flame; And beating up from the sea- rim the gypsy galleon came. And why is she decked with pennons, and trimmed with cloth of gold? And what are these scarlet trappings the harbour folk behold? IS THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS What means her glory of banners fluttering on the breeze, Brave as the coloured autumn that is the pride of the trees? Has she rifled a sea-king's treasure and plundered the isles of the seas? Slowly she passed the entry, the white sails low- ered and furled. And there was our long-lost truant from the other side of the world. On the deck he stood, the figure of a man to make men bold, A browned and hardy master, as debonair as of old, The strength of his hands as aforetime, the scholar's light on his brow. But something passing knowledge in his look and bearing now, i6 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS The calm of a radiant purpose, the joy of unerr- ing quest, The poise of perfected being when the soul attains her best. He had ruled with power and pleasure, he had searched and found out lore; And now his unfainting spirit had discovered the one thing more. But the curious eye forsook him to greet with amazed regard Another who stood at the taffrail by the sheet of the great main-yard ; Fine as a mast in stature, eager, unflinching, and free, With hair like the sun's raw gold and eyes like crumbs of the sea; Straight-browed — the imperial bearing of one who is born to sway, 17 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS Deep-bosomed with all the ardour that kindles our wondrous clay; Regent of glad dominions, a sea-trove out of the vast Wide welter of life. " A hostage fit for our king at last!" Threefold is the search for perfection that leads through creation's plan — Through immemorial nature and the restless heart of man ; Beauty of shape and colour to gladden and profit the eye, Truth beyond cavil or question to answer the reason why, And the blameless spirit's portion — the joy that shall not die. The dauntless soul must wander to accomplish and attain i8 THE YOUNG KING S MADNESS This balance of all her powers by the lead of love, or remain A stranger to peace forever in sorrow, defeat, and pain. Flushed with the cheers of welcome, lightly the king, all pride, Handed the girl, all beauty, over the vessel's side. Then in a lull of their salvos, to the wondering crowd that rings The pierhead, eager to question, *' Our queen," said the sanest of kings. 19 ACROSS THE COURTYARD. That is the window over there With the closed shutters and the air Of a deserted place, like those Abandoned homesteads whose repose Haunts us with mystery. Inside Who knows what tragedy may hide ? This window has been sealed up so A fortnight now. A month ago Just about dusk you should have seen The vision I saw smile and lean From that same window. Spring's return, When daffodils and jonquils burn Under the azure April day, Is not more lovely nor more gay. 20 ACROSS THE COURTYARD The world — at least, our artist world Where tubes are pinched and brushes twirled In the long task to reproduce God's masterpieces for man's use — Knows Jacynth for the loveliest Of all its models and the best. Why, half the portraits in the town, From Mrs. Bigwig, Jr.'s down, Have that same perfect taper hand (If you have wit to understand A woman's vanity, you know Why they should wish to have it so), Those same long fingers smooth and round. Faultless as petals, and not found Twice in a generation. Well, They're Jacynth's. But you need not tell The trick. In this world art must live On what the world's caprice will give. 21 ACROSS THE COURTYARD Delightful folly! But far more Delightful beauty we adore And follow humbly day by day, Her difficult, enchanted way. (Dear beauty, still beyond the reach Of paint, or music, or of speech!) We toil and triumph and despair, Then on a morn look up, and there Some girl goes by, or there's a dash Of colour on the clouds — a flash Of inspiration caught between Chinks in the workshop's grey routine. One hint of glory through the murk, And God has criticized our work. So we plod on, and so one day It happened toward the end of May, When the long twilight comes, and when Our northern orchards bloom again — Even our poor old courtyard tree, 22 ACROSS THE COURTYARD Knowing the time that bids him be One of the hosts that leaf and sing In the revival of the spring, Dons his green robe of joy. You know How idle, then, a man will grow. I had been sitting lost in thought Of how our best dreams come to naught, And we are left mere daubers still For want of knowledge, lack of skill — So many of us are, I mean ! The door was open, and the screen And curtains turned back everywhere For the first breath of summer air. That came in like a wanderer From far untroubled lands, to stir The prints along the wall, and bring Our dreams of greatness back with spring. Suddenly, I looked up, aware Before I looked, of some one there — 23 ACROSS THE COURTYARD You know how. In the doorway stood A tall girl dressed in black. How good A scrap of actual beauty is, After our unrealities! The copper-coloured hair; the glint Of tea-rose in her throat's warm tint; The magic and surprise that go With level blue-grey eyes; the slow Luxurious charm of poise and line, Half-Oriental, half-divine. And altogether human. Oh, One must have known her then, to know How faultless beauty still transcends The bound where faultless painting ends. But you may gather here and there Faint glimpses and reports of her In the best work of all the men Who painted her as she was then, Splendid and wonderful. To me, For colour and for symmetry, 24 ACROSS THE COURTYARD In her young glory there she seemed The flame-like one of whom they dreamed Who worshipped beauty in old days With singleness of joy and praise; Some great Astarte come to bless This old world with new loveliness; My own ideal come to life, After the failure and the strife, To prove I dreamed not all in vain In poverty beside the Seine. There came a sudden leap at heart That made my pulses stop and start, The surge and flood of sense that sweep Over our nature's hidden deep, When we look up and recognize Our vision in an earthly guise. Then reason must resign control To the indubitable soul, «S ACROSS THE COURTYARD Put off despair, arise and dance To the joy-music of romance. For one great year she posed for me ; Came in and out familiarly, And made the studio her home Almost — not quite ; for always some — What shall I say ? — reserve or pride, Mysterious and aloof, belied By the soft loving languorous mien, Invested her, enthroned serene Above importunings. Who knows. If she had chosen as I chose — Flung heart and head and hand away On the great venture of a day; Poured love and passion and romance In the frail mould of circumstance — Had she but dared be one of two, We might have made the world anew! However much it might have cost, 26 ACROSS THE COURTYARD Who knows what good may have been lost, What passing great reward ? One day When work was done she turned to say Her soft good night, and tripped down-stair With rustling skirts and her fine air Of breeziness, humming a catch From some street-song. I heard the latch Click after her, and she was gone. Next day I waited. It wore on To afternoon, and still no sign Of peril near this dream of mine. A j^ear went by, and not a word Of the lost Jacynth could be heard. May came again ; the wind once more Was blowing bj'^ the open door. And I saw something over there Across the yard that made me stare. 27 ACROSS THE COURTYARD Strangers had recently arrived On that third floor, and Fate contrived One of her small dramatic scenes Which make us vi^onder what life means, And whether it is all a play For our diversion by the way. There at the window I caught sight Of a girl's figure. The crisp white Of the fresh gown passed and repassed, Strangely familiar, till at last, " Jacynth, of course! Who else? " I cried. And on the instant she espied Me watching her ; quick as a flash And smiling, ran, threw up the sash To lean far out. " How do you do. My friend ? " " Why, Jacynth, how are you, After this long, long time? " I said. " Thank you, quite well." Her pretty head Was tilted up, in every line An old medallion rare and fine. 28 ACROSS THE COURTYARD * Yes, it's a long time, isn't it, Since that first day I came to sit For your great Lilith? Tell me how They hung it at the Fair. And now That we are neighbours once again, Do come to see me." It was plain From the unwonted vanity Of tone, as she ran on to me, Some strange ambition, plan, or hope Had come to give her pride new scope. Somehow she had acquired the chill Of worldliness ; I missed the thrill Of eager radiance she had When we were comrades free and glad. Some volatile and subtle trace Of soul had vanished from her face. Leaving the brilliancy that springs From polished and enamelled things. The beauty of the lamp still shone With lustre, but the flame was gone. 29 ACROSS THE COURTYARD There was so evident in her The smug complacent character Of prosperous security, That when, with just a flick at me, She added, gaily as before, It isn't Jacynth any more. It's Mrs. " — some one — here was I, Too much astonished to reply. Before she vanished. From that day The rest is blank, think what you may. There is her window, as you see, Closed on a teasing mystery. I think, as I recall her here, How much life means beyond the mere Safety, convenience, and the pose Respectability bestows ; The beauty of the questing soul In every face, beyond control Is dimmed by wearing any mask 3c ACROSS THE COURTYARD That dull conformity may ask. How almost no one understands The unworldliness that art demands! How few have courage to retain Through years of doubtful stress and strain The resolute and lonely will To follow beauty, to fulfil The dreams of their prophetic youth And pay the utmost price of truth! How few have nerve enough to keep The trail, and thread the dark and steep By the lone lightning-flash that falls Through sullen murky intervals! How many faint of heart must choose The steady lantern for their use, And never, without fear of Fate, Be daring, generous and great! Where is she now? What sudden change Clouded our day-dream? Love is strange! 31 A NEIGHBOUR'S CREED. '■'■ Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbour s creed has lent." I. All day the weary crowds move on Through the grey city's stifling heat, With anxious air, with jaded mien, To strife, to labour, to defeat. But I possess my soul in calm, Because I know, unvexed by noise. Somewhere across the city's hum Your splendid spirit keeps its poise. 32 A NEIGHBOUR S CREED II. Because I see you bright and brave, I say to my despondent heart, Up, loiterer! Put off this guise Of gloom, and play the sturdier part! " Three things are given man to do: To dare, to labour, and to grow. Not otherwise from earth we came, Nor otherwise our way we go. Three things are given man to be: Cheerful, undoubting, and humane, Surviving through the direst fray. Preserving the untarnished strain. Three things are given man to know: Beauty and truth and honour. These Are the nine virtues of the soul, Her mystic powers and ecstasies. 33 A NEIGHBOUR S CREED And when I see you bravely tread That difficult and doubtful way, " Up, waverer ; wilt thou forsake Thy comrade? " to my soul I say. Then bitterness and sullen fear. Mistrust and anger, are no more. That quick gay step is in the hall; That rallying voice is at the door. 34 TO ONE IN DESPAIR. I. O die not yet, great heart ; but deign A little longer to endure This life of passionate fret and strain, Of slender hope and joy unsure! Take Contemplation by the sleeve, And ask her, " Is it not worth while To teach my fellows not to grieve, — To lend them courage in a smile? " Is it so little to have made The timorous ashamed of fear, — The idle and the false afraid To front existence with a sneer? " 35 TO ONE IN DESPAIR For those who live within your sway Know not a mortal fear, save one, — That some irreparable day They should awake, and find you gone. II. Live on, love on ! Let reason swerve ; But instinct knows her own great lore, Like some uncharted planet's curve That sweeps in sight, then is no more. Live on, love on, without a qualm, Child of immortal charity, In the great certitude and calm Of joy free-born that shall not die. III. We dream ourselves inheritors Of some unknown and distant good, 36 TO ONE IN DESPAIR That shall requite us for the faults Of our own lax ineptitude. But soon and surely they may come, Whom love makes wise and courage free, Into their heritage of joy, — Their earth-day of eternity. IV. The thought that I could ever call Your name, and you would not be here. At moments sweeps my soul away In the relentless tide of fear; Then from its awful ebb returns The sea of gladness strong and sure. By this I know that love is great ; By this I know I shall endure. 37 TO ONE IN DESPAIR V. When I shall have lain down to sleep, I pray no sound to break my rest. No seraph's trumpet through the night Could touch my weary soul with zest. But oh, beyond the reach of thought How I should waken and rejoice. To hear across the drift of time One golden echo of your voice! 38 AT THE GREAT RELEASE. When the black horses from the house of Dis Stop at my door and the dread charioteer Knocks at my portal, summoning me to go On the far solitary unknown way Where all the race of men fare and are lost, Fleeting and numerous as the autumnal leaves Before the wind in Lesbos of the Isles ; Though a chill draught of fear may quell my soul And dim my spirit like a flickering lamp In the great gusty hall of some old king, Only one mordant unassuaged regret. One passionate eternal human grief, AT THE GREAT RELEASE Would wring my heart with bitterness and tears And set the mask of sorrow on my face. Not youth, nor early fame, nor pleasant days. Nor flutes, nor roses, nor the taste of wine. Nor sweet companions of the idle hour Who brought me tender joys, nor the glad sound Of children's voices playing in the dusk ; All these I could forget and bid good-bye And pass to my oblivion nor repine. Not the green woods that I so dearly love, Nor summer hills in their serenity, Nor the great sea mystic and musical, Nor drone of insects, nor the call of birds. Nor soft spring flowers, nor the wintry stars; To all the lovely earth that was my home Smiling and valiant I could say farewell. 40 AT THE GREAT RELEASE But not, oh, not to one strong little hand, To one droll mouth brimming with witty words. Nor ever to the unevasive eyes Where dwell the light and sweetness of the world With all the sapphire sparkle of the sea! Ah, Destiny, against whose knees we kneel With prayer at evening, spare me this one woe! 41 MORNING AND EVENING. When the morning wind comes up the mountain, Stirring all the beech-groves of the valley, And, before the paling stars have vanished, The first tawny thrush disturbs the tw^ilight With his reed-pipe, eerie calm and golden — The earth-music marvellous and olden — Then good fortune enters at my doorway, And my heart receives the guest called Gladness; For I know it is that day of summer When I shall behold your face ere nightfall, And this earth, as never yet in story. Ledge to hill-crest dyed in purple glory. 42 MORNING AND EVENING When the evening breath draws down the valley, And the clove is kill of dark blue shadows Moving on the mountain-wall, just silvered By the large moon lifted o'er the earth-rim, At the moment of transported being, When soul gathers what the eyes are seeing, Sense is parted like a melted rain-mist, And our mortal spirits run together, Saying, ** O incomparable comrade! " Saying, " O my lover, how good love is! " Then the twilight falls; the hill-wind hushes; Note by note once more the cool-voiced thrushes. 43 IN AN IRIS MEADOW. Once I found you in an Iris meadow Down between the seashore and the river, Playing on a golden willow whistle You had fashioned from a bough in springtime, — Piping such a wild melodious music, Full of sunshine, sadness and sweet longing, As the heart of earth must have invented. When the wind first breathed above her bosom. And above the sea-rim, silver-lighted. Pure and glad and innocent and tender. The first melting planets glowed in splendour. There it was I loved you as a lover, Then it was I lost the world forever. 44 IN AN IRIS MEADOW For your slender fingers on the notches Set free more than that mere earthly cadence, — Loosed the piercing stops of mortal passion, — Touched your wood-mate with the spell of wonder, And the godhead in the man awakened. Virgin spirit with unsullied senses. There was earth for him all new-created. In a moment when the music's rapture Bade soul take what never thought could capture: Just the sheer glad bliss of being human, Just the large content beyond all reason, Just the love of flowers, hills and rivers, Shadowy forests and lone lovely bird-songs When the morning brightens in the sea-wind; And beyond all these the fleeting vision Of the shining soul that dwelt within you, (Magic fragrance of the meadow blossom) All the dear fond madness of the lover. 45 IN AN IRIS MEADOW These, all these the ancient wood-god taught me From the theme you piped and the wind brought me. Was it strange that I should stop the playing? Was it strange that I should touch the blossom? Must (a man's way!) see whence came the music, Must with childish marvel count the petals? O but sweet were your uncounted kisses ! Wild and dear those first impulsive fondlings, When your great eyes swept me, then went sea- ward, Too o'ercharged to bear the strain of yearning, And the little head must seek this shoulder! Then we heard once more the wood-god's meas- ure, And strange gladness filled the world's great leisure. 46 A LETTER FROM LESBOS. More beloved than ever yet was mortal! Oh, but doubt not, lover, I do love thee! When he wrote these words, bitter and lonely Was that tender heart in wintry Lesbos. Kindly gods but speed my journey thither, (How the wind burns from the scorching desert, Through the scarlet beds of scentless blossom!) And make fortunate that swift home-coming! For I fret in this Egyptian exile, Too long parted, sickening for the home-wind And the first white gleam of Mitylene. Blessed words to brave the stormy sea-way! In this stifling city's sultry languor 47 A LETTER FROM LESBOS I must now with joy and tears and longing, Now the hundredth time at least re-read them : // is the bitter season of the year; The mournful-piping sea-wind is abroad JVith driving snow and battle in the air. Shaking the stubborn roof tree gust by gust; And under the frost-grey skies without a sun Cold desolation wraps the wintry world. And I, my Gorgo, keep the fireside here. Chill-hearted, brooding, visited by doubt. Wondering how Demeter or wise Pan Will work the resurrection of the spring. Serene and punctual at the appointed time. With the warm sun, the swallows at the eaves, The slant of rain upon the purple hill. The flame-like crocus by the garden wall. The light, the hope, the gladness all returned With maidens singing the Adonis song! 48 A LETTER FROM LESBOS But ah, more doubtful sad and full of fear There comes to me, disconsolate and lone. The thought of thee, my Gorgo, lovelier Than any premonition of the spring. I seem to see that radiant smile once more. The heaven-blue eyes, the crocus-golden hair. The rose-pink beauty passionate and tall. Dear beyond words and daring with desire. For which thy lover would fling life away And traffic the last legacy of time. Ah, Gorgo, too long absent, well I know The sun will shine again and spring come back Her ancient glorious golden-flowered way. And gladness visit the green earth once more. But where in all that wonder wilt thou be. The very soul and spirit of the spring? 49 A LETTER FROM LESBOS // the high gods in that triumphant time Have calendared no day for thee to come Light-hearted to this doorway as of old. Unmoved I shall behold their pomps go by, — The painted seasons in their pageantry. The silvery processions of the ?noon. And all the infinite ardours unsubdued. Pass with the wind replenishing the earth. Incredulous forever I must live. And, once thy lover, without joy behold The gradual uncounted years go by. Sharing the bitterness of all things made. Ah, not thus! My hot tears sweet and tender, And the storm within this heaving bosom, Could he see, would tell him what the truth is, - How the heart of Gorgo breaks to reach him. And her arms are weak with empty waiting Through this long monotony of summer. 50 A LETTER FROM LESBOS Gentle spirit, grieve not so, for love's sake! How he raves beyond the touch of reason: O heart of mine, be hardier for ills. Since thou hast shared the sorrows of the gods And been partaker of their destiny. Have I not known the bitterness that sighed In mournful grief upon the river marge. And once obscured the lonely shining sun. When Syrinx and when Daphne fled awayf Not otherwise in sorrow did I fare Whom Gorgo, loveliest of mortals, loved. And whose own folly that same Gorgo lost. O lovers, hear me! Be not lax in love. Nor let the loved one from you for a day. For time that is the enemy of love. And change that is the constant foe of man. But wait the turn of opportunity To fret the delicate fabric of our life 51 A LETTER FROM LESBOS With doubt and slow forgetfulness and grief. Till he who was a lover once goes forth A friendless soul to front the joyless years, A brooding uncompanioned wanderer Beneath the silent and majestic stars. Now what folly waits on brooding passion! Truly not in solitude do mortals Reach the height and nobleness of heroes. Can it be so swiftly fades remembrance? Oh, my fond heart prompt him! This is better: The red flower of the fire is on the hearth. The white flower of the foam is on the sea. The golden inarshes and the tawny dunes Are gleaming white with snow and flushed with rose Where the pure level wintry sunlight falls. In the rose-garden, crimsoning each bough Against the purple boulders in the wall, 52 A LETTER FROM LESBOS Shine the rose-berries careless of the cold. While down along the margin of the sea, Just where the grey beach melts to greener grey. With mounting wavering combing plunge and charge. The towering breakers crumble in to shore. Now from that quiet picture of the eye. Hark to the trampling thunder and long boom. The lone unscansioned and mysterious rote Whose cadence marked the building of the world. The old reverberant music of the sea! Ah, to what ghostly piping of strange flutes Strays in lost loveliness Persephone, Heavy at heart, with trouble in her eyes. From her deep-bosomed mother far away. In the pale garden of Aidoneus now? And oh, what delicate piping holds thee, too. My Kore of the beauteous golden head? 53 A LETTER FROM LESBOS What voice, what luring laughter bid thee stay So long from thine own lover and so farf JYho' touches with soft words thy tender heart. In some bright foreign city far from here. My unforgotten Gorgo beautiful? Doubting still ? O bitterest of absence That the moth of doubt should mar the texture And fine tissue of the spirit's garment, The one garl? of beauty which the soul wears, - Love, the frailest, costliest of fabrics! Ah, doubt not! O lover, lover, lover, Who first taught the childlike heart of mortals This most false and evil worldly wisdom? Blighting as a frost on budded aloes. How It blackens love, the golden blossom! Would that I could cherish him this Instant, And dissolve that aching wintry passion In the warmth of this Impatient bosom! By what cruel fate must I be banished 54 A LETTER FROM LESBOS From his lonely bed? In lovely Lesbos All my heart is, with its passionate longing. O too piteous is the lot of women : In the long night I lie awake for hours Or sleep the sleep of dreamers without rest. For in my soul there is discouragement. And cold remorse lays hands upon my heart. Now thou art gone, the grey world has no joy. But bleak and bitter is the wind of life. Cutting this timid traveller to the bone. Not all the gods can ever give me peace. Nor their forgiveness make me glad again. For I have sinned against my own great soul And cherished far too little thy great love. Brave was thy spirit, glad and beautiful. Nor ever faltered nor was faint of heart In the fair splendid path of thy desire. Even as I speak there comes a touch of shame, SS A LETTER FROM LESBOS Like a friend's hand upon my shoulder laid. To think such moody and unmanly words Could ever pass the mouth thy mouth has pressed. Remembrance tvakes. I hear the long far call To fortitude and courage in the night From my companions of the mighty past. All the heroic lovers of the world. Hast thou not had a sudden thought of me, UnanxiouSj gay and tender with desire, O thou beloved more than all mortal things? For in my heart there was a sudden sense Just now with presage of returning joy. As when the wood-flowers waken to the sun And all their lovely ardours rearise. Or when the sinking tide from utmost ebb With one long sob summons his might once more. 56 A LETTER FROM LESBOS Out of this winter will put forth one day The incommunicable germ of spring. The magic fervour that makes all things new. When all the golden season will he glad With soft south winds and birds and woodland flowers And the shrill marshy music of the frogs. Piping a chorus to their father Fan. Then thou and I shall walk the earth once more Delirious with each other as of old. And the soft madness lead us far away By meadowy roads and through the lilac hills To our own province in the lands of love, — My new-found Gorgo, heart-throb of the spring. Heart of me! Ah, Cyprian deal gently! Soon, Oh soon, restore me to my lover, That I may repair this outworn habit, And reclothe him with thy golden glory. Scarlet circumstance and purple splendour, — 57 A LETTER FROM LESBOS State and air and pride of the immortals, Which these mortal men, by our devising And thy favour, wear — with fleeting rapture ! Fiercer blow, thou fervour of the desert! Northward, northward, you hot winds of Nilus, More consuming than a smelter's furnace! You who do the will of alien Isis, To this heart you cannot be unfriendly, If I once may loose the sail for Lesbos, And along the green and foaming sea-track Scud before you, light as any swallow Flashing down the long blue slope of springtime. O ye home-gods, free me to my lover! SB THE PLAYERS. We are the players of a play As old as earth, Between the wings of night and day, With tears and mirth. There is no record of the land From whence it came, No legend of the playwright's hand, No bruited fame Of those who for the piece were cast On that first night, When God drew up His curtain vast And there was light. 59 THE PLAYERS Before our eyes as we come on, From age to age, Flare up the footlights of the dawn On this round stage. In front, unknown, beyond the glare Vague shadows loom ; And sounds like muttering winds are there Foreboding doom. Yet wistfully we keep the boards; And as we mend The blundering forgotten words, Hope to the end To hear the storm-beat of applause Fill our desire When the dark Prompter gives us pause. And we retire. 60 THE MANSION. I thought it chill and lonesome, And too far from the road For an ideal dwelling, When here I first abode. But yesterday a lodger Smiled as she passed my door, With mien of gay contentment That lured me to explore. Unerringly she leads me, Compassionate and wise, Soul of immortal beauty Wearing the mortal guise. 6i THE MANSION She knows from sill to attic The great house through and through, Its treasures of the ages, Surprises ever new. From room to room I follow, Entranced with each in turn, Enchanted by each wonder She bids my look discern. She names them : here Is First-love, A chamber by the sea; Here in a flood of noonday Is spacious Charity. Here is a cell, Devotion ; And lonely Courage here. Where child-deserted windows Look on the Northern year; THE MANSION Friendship and Faith and Gladness, Fragrant of air and bloom, Where one might spend a lifetime Secure from fear of gloom. And often as we wander, I fancy we have neared The Master of the Mansion, Who has not yet appeared. 63 WHO IS THE OWNER? Who owns this house, my lord or I? He in whose name the title runs, Or I, who keep it swept and clean And open to the winds and suns? He who is absent year by year, On some far pleasure of his own, Or I who spend on it so much Of willing flesh and aching bone? What if it prove a fable, all This rumour of a legal lord. And we should find ourselves in truth Owners and masters of the board! 64 WHO IS THE OWNERp What if this earth should just belong To those who tend it, you and me ! What if for once we should refuse His rental to this absentee? O friends, no landlord in the world Could love the place as well as I ! Love is the owner of the house, The only lord of destiny. 6S THE FAIRY FLOWER. There's a fairy flower that grows In a corner of my heart, And the fragrance that it spills Is the sorcery of art. I may give it little care, Neither water it nor prune, Yet it suddenly will blow Glorious beneath the moon. I may tend it night and day, Taking thought to make it bloom; Yet my efforts all will fail To avert the touch of doom. 66 THE FAIRY FLOWER When It dies, my little flower, You may take my life as well; Though I live a hundred years, I shall have no more to tell. 67 YVANHOE FERRARA. Teach me, of little worth, O Fame, The golden word that shall proclaim Yvanhoe Ferraras name. I would that I might rest me now, As once I rested long ago, In the dim purple summer night, On scented linen cool and white. Lulled by the murmur of the sea And thy soft breath, Yvanhoe. What cared we for the world or time, Though like a far-oilf fitful chime, 68 YVANHOE FERRARA We heard the mournful anchored bell Above the sunken reef foretell That time should pass and pleasure be No more for us, Yvanhoe! We saw the crimson sun go down Across the harbour and the town, Dyeing the roofs and spars with gold ; But all his magic, ages old. Was not so wonderful to me As thy gold hair, Yvanhoe. Between the window and the road The tall red poppies burned and glowed ; They moved and flickered like a flame, As the low sea-wind went and came; 69 YVANHOE FERRARA But redder and more warm than they, Was thy red mouth, Yvanhoe. I think the stars above the hill Upon the brink of time stood still; And the great breath of life that blows The coal-bright sun, the flame-bright rose, Entered the room and kindled thee As in a forge, Yvanhoe — Prospered the ruddy fire, and fanned Thy beauty to a rosy brand. Till all the odorous purple dark Reeled, and thy soul became a spark In the great draught of Destiny Which men call love, Yvanhoe. 70 YVANHOE FERRARA The untold ardour of the earth That knows no sorrow, fear nor dearth, Before the pent-up moment passed, Was glad of all its will at last — And more, if such a thing could be — In thy long kiss, Yvanhoe. For years my life was bright and glad, Because of the great joy we had ; Until I heard the wind repeat Thy name behind me in the street, Like a lost lyric of the sea, " Yvanhoe, Yvanhoe." But now the day has no desire; The scarlet poppies have no fire; 7t YVANHOE FERRARA There is no magic in the sun Nor anything he shines upon; Only the muttering of the sea, Since thou art dead, Yvanhoe. Now God on high, he mine the hlame. If time destroy or men defame Yvanhoe Ferraras name. 72 THE LOVE-CHANT OF KING HACKO In the time of red October, In the hills of the pointed fir, In the days of the slanted sunlight That ripens cone and burr, God gave me a splendid woman — A mate for a lord of lands — And put the madness on me, And left her there in my hands. In the roving woodland season. When the afternoons are still And the sound of lowing cattle Comes up to the purple hill, 73 LOVE-CHANT OF KING HACKO God would speak to His creatures, Flower and beast and bird, And lays the silence upon them To hearken to His word. In the time of the scarlet maple, When the blue Indian haze Walks through the wooded valley And sleeps by the mountain ways, She stood like a beech in the forest. Where the wash of sunlight lies, With her wonderful beech-red hair And her wondering beech-grey eyes. In the time of the apple harvest. When the fruit is gold on the bough, She stood in the moted sunshine, The orchards remember how — Loving, untrammelled and generous, Ardent and supple and tall, 74 LOVE-CHANT OF KING HACKO Quick to the breath of the spirit As a shadow that moves on a wall. In a yellow and crimson valley, At the time of the turning leaf, When warm are the tawny fern-beds, And the cricket's life is brief, I saw the dark blood mantle And prosper under the tan, Then I knew the power God lent me To use, when He made me man. The world, all being and beauty From meadow to mountain-line, Awaiting the touch of rapture For a meaning and a sign; A woman's voice said, " Hacko," Then I knew and could understand How love is a greater province Than dominion of sea or land. 75 LOVE-CHANT OF KING HACKO In the month of golden hillsides, When moons are frosty white, And the returning Hunter Looms on the marge of night, Relieving his brother Arcturus, Belted, majestic and slow, To patrol the Arctic watch-fires And sentry the lands of snow, A core of fire was kindled On a hearthstone wide and deep. Where the great arms of the mountains Put Folly-of-mind to sleep; We came without guide or knowledge. Silver, array or store, Through the land of purple twilight To the lodge of the Open Door. 76 THE CREATION OF LILITH. This happened in the Garden Ages on ages since, When noontide made a pleasant shade Of ilex, pear and quince. The Gardener sat and pondered Some beauty rarer still Than any he had wrought of earth And fashioned to his will. "Now who will be her body?" " I," said the splendid rose, . " Colour, fire and fragrance, In imperial repose." 77 THE CREATION OF LILITH " Who will be her two eyes? " ** I," said the flag of blue, " Sky and sea all shadowy Drench me wholly through." " Who will be her bright mouth? " " I," the carnation said, " With my old Eastern ardour And my Persian red." *' Who will be, among you. The glory of her hair? " His glance went reaching through the noon; The marigold was there. " Who will be her laughter, Her love-word and her sigh?" Among the whispering tree-tops A breath of wind said, " I." 78 THE CREATION OF LILITH " And whence will come her spirit? " Answer there was none. The Gardener breathed upon her mouth, And lo, there had been done The miracle of beauty Outmarvelling the flowers; While the great blue dial Recorded the slow hours. 79 IN A FAR COUNTRY. In a land that Is little traversed, Beyond the news of the town, There lies a delectable Kingdom Where the crimson sun goes down, The province of fruitlands and flowers And colour and sea-sounds and love. If you were queen of that country. And I were the king thereof, We should tread upon scarlet popples, And be glad the long day through. Where the bluest skies in the world Rest upon hills of blue. 80 IN A FAR COUNTRY We should wander the slopes of the mountains With the wind and the nomad bee, And watch the white sails on the sea-rim Come up from the curving sea. We should watch from the sides of the valleys The caravans of the rain, In trappings of purple and silver, Go by on the far-off plain. And they all should be freighted with treasure, The vision that gladdens the eye, The beauty that betters the spirit To sustain it by and by. We should hear the larks' fine field-notes Breaking in bubbly swells. As if from their rocking steeples The lilies were ringing their bells; 8i IN A FAR COUNTRY We should hear invisible fingers Play on the strings of the pines The broken measure whose motive Only a lover divines; The music of Earth, the enchantress, The cadence that dwells in the heart Against the time of oblivion. To bid it remember and start. And nothing should make us unhappy, And no one should make us afraid, For we should be royal lovers In the land where this plot is laid. And with night on the almond orchards We should lie where warm winds creep, Under the starry tent-cloth Hearing the footfall of Sleep. 82 SONG O F THE FOUR WORLDS. I. Is it northward, little friend? And she whispered, " What is there?" There are people who are loyal to the glory of their past. Who held by heart's tradition, and will hold it to the last; Who would not sell in shame The honour of their name. Though the world were in the balance and a sword thereon were cast. ^3 SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS Oh, there the ice is breaking, the brooks are running free, A robin calls at twilight from a tall spruce-tree, And the light canoes go down Past portage, camp and town, By the rivers that make murmur in the lands along the sea. And she said, " It is not there, Though I love you, love you dear; I cannot bind my little heart with loves of yes- ter year." II. Is it southward, little friend? " Lover, what is there? " There are men of many nations who were sick of strife and gain. 84 SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS And only ask forgetfulness of all the old world's pain. There Life sets down her measure For Time to fill at leisure With loveliness and plenty in the islands of the main. Oh, there the palms are rustling, the oranges are bright ; In all the little harbour towns the coral streets are white ; The scarlet flowers fall By the creamy convent wall, And the Southern Cross gets up from sea to steer the purple night. And she said, " It is not there, Though I love you, love you dear; I should weary of the beauty that is changeless all the year." 85 SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS III. Is it eastward, little friend? And she whispered, " What is there? " There are rivers good for healing, there are temples in the hills. There men forsake desire and put by their earthly wills ; And there the old earth breeds Her mystic mighty creeds For the lifting of all burdens and the loosing of all ills. Oh, the tents are in the valley where the shadows sleep at noon, Where the pack-train halts at twilight and the spicy bales are strewn. Where the long brown road goes by To the cut against the sky, And is lost within the circle of the silent, rosy moon. 86 SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS And she said, " It is not there, Though I love you, love you dear ; For my faith is warm and living, not unearthly, old and sere." IV. Is it w^estvi^ard, little friend? " Lover, what is there? " There are men and women who are sovereigns of their fate, Who look Despair between the eyes and know that they are great; Who will not halt nor quail On the eager endless trail, Till Destiny makes way for them and Love un- bars the gate. Oh, there the purple lilies are blowing in the sun, And the meadow larks are singing — a thousand, if there's one! 87 SONG OF THE FOUR WORLDS And the long blue hills arise To the wondrous dreamy skies, For the twisted azure columns of the rain to rest upon. And she said, " It is not there, For I love you, love you dear. Oh, shut the door on Sorrow, for the Four Great Worlds are here! " 88 STREET SONG AT NIGHT. There's many a quiet seaport that waits the daring sail ; There's many a lonely farer by many a doubtful trail* And what should be their star To lead them safe and far, — What guide to take them o'er the crest, what pilot past the bar, — Save Love, the great adventurer who will not turn nor quail? As a voyager might remember how the face of earth was changed, — All the dreary grey of winter forgotten and estranged, — 89 STREET SONG AT NIGHT When he rode the tempest through And steered Into the blue Of a tranquil tropic morning diaphanous and new, With palms upon the sea-rim where the flying- fishes ranged ; As a lover in old story on a night of wind and rain Might have stood beneath a window, till a lamp should light the pane And a lady lean one arm On the glowing square and warm, — A girlish golden figure in a frame of dark and storm, — To look the longest moment ere he turned to life again. Then set a stubborn shoulder to wind and sleet and snow, 90 STREET SONG AT NIGHT With the weather foul above him and the pave- ment foul below; So it happened in my case ; When I saw her, every trace Of doubt and fear and languor to the pulse of joy gave place, And the world was great and goodly as he planned it long ago. There's a shipman who goes sailing where the sea is round and high; There's a lover who goes piping where winds oi morning cry; And the lilt beneath his heart Was timed to stop and start, Till no more ships go sailing and the green hills fall apart. O, friends, that minstrel-lover, that mariner am I. 91 THE LEAST OF LOVE. Only let one fair frail woman Mourn for me when I am dead, — World, withhold your best of praises! There are better things instead. Shall the little fame concern me, Or the triumph of the years, When I keep the mighty silence, Through the falling of her tears? I shall heed not, though 'twere April And my field-larks all returned. When her lips upon these eyelids One last poppied kiss have burned. 92 THE LEAST OF LOVE Painted hills shall not allure me, Mirrored in the painted stream; Having loved them, I shall leave them, Busy with the vaster dream. Only let one dear dark woman Mourn for me when I am dead, I shall be content w^ith beauty And the dust above my head. Yet when I shall make the journey From these earthly dear abodes, I have four things to remember At the Crossing of the Roads. How her hand was like a tea-rose; And her low voice like the South; Her soft eyes were tarns of sable ; A red poppy was her mouth. 93 THE LEAST OF LOVE Only let one sweet frail woman Mourn for me when I am dead, — Gently for her gentlest lover, — More than all will have been said. Be my requiem the rain-wind; And my immortality But the lifetime of one heartache By the unremembering sea! 94 A MAN'S LAST WORD. Death said to me, " Three things I ask of thee; And thy reply- Shall make thee or undo thee presently." I said, " Say on. Lord Death, thy will be done. One answers now, To bribe and fear indifferent as thou." He said, " Behold, My power is from of old. The drunken sea Is but a henchman and a serf to me. 95 A man's last word " Hunger and war My tireless sleuth-hounds are. Before my nod The quailing nations have no help but God. * What hast thou found, In one life's little round, Stronger than these?" I said, '' One little hand-touch of Marie's." He said, " Again : Of all brave sights to men — The glittering rain, A towering city in an autumn plain, An eagle's flight, A beacon-fire at night, The harvest moon, The burnish of a marching host at noon — 96 A MAN S LAST WORD " What hast thou seen In one life's small demesne, Fairer than these? " I said, " That supple body of Marie's." He said, '* Once more: Of all men labour for, Battle and yearn, And spend their blessed days without return " Leisure or wealth, Or power or sun-tanned health, A bruited name, Or the sad solace of a little fame — " What hast thou known. In one life's narrow zone. Dearer than these?" I said, " One little love-kiss of Marie's." 97 A man's last word And then Death said, To-day among the dead Thou shalt go down, And with the wise receive thy just renown." 98 A MIDWINTER MEMORY. Now the snow is on the roof, Now the wind is in the flue, Beauty, keep no more aloof, Make my winter dreaming true, Give my fancy proof. How the year runs back to June, To the day I saw you first ! In the sultry afternoon There the mountains lay immersed In a summer swoon. In the orchard with your book, I can see you now as then — 99 L MIDWINTER MEMORY That serene and smiling look, Far away and back again, While my spirit shook. Now the frost is on the pane, And the winter on the sea, Gold across the iron strain, Thought of you comes back to me. Like a lost refrain. What a voice it was I heard ! All your j's were soft as d's, Like the nest-notes of a bird. And your fingers clasped your knees. As you smiled each word. Well I knew you for the one Sought so long and never found, In this country of the sun, 100 A MIDWINTER MEMORY All these burning summers round. There, the search was done! Now the dark is at the door; Now the snow is on the sill ; And for all I may deplore, Time must have his ancient will — Mar one lover more. lOI AN ANGEL IN PLASTER. Dear smiling little snub-nosed baby face With angel wings, Be thou the guardian of this house, and grace Its sublunary things. Look laughing down, O blessed babe, and lend That guileless charm. That beaming joy, to sweeten and defend Our dwelling from all harm. Bid sorrow shun the threshold of this door, And memory Cease in this place forever to deplore What has been — and must be. I02 AN ANGEL IN PLASTER Come sun or storm, come merriment or tears, No care can fret Thy radiant spirit, nor the heavy years Invade it w^ith regret. Surely thou art a traveller from a land That knows no grief! The life of men thou canst not understand — So turbulent, so brief. Yet thou must tarry here, thou darling one, To smile and bring Thoughts of the world's fair youth, a fadeless sun And a perpetual spring. THE END. 103 o 0^ A 3 <: ■x^^ --/^ \^^ '^c^. '^ O ^;>. V ^^. "oo^ / ^ ^ s \ C^ O^ , \ v^-^ \ ^ / - , ._- - >■ ^ - \ -0' ^x^^ '^ , V ^ .^O .0*^ .- N „ "<- ■ , ---V^ ' J^ ''~"'i^' - Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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