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 lena ©alfeeiti) JBurton 
 
^xoit Cfjantg 
 
 BY 
 LENA DALKEITH BURTON 
 
 WEBSTER COURT 
 NEWTON CENTRE, MASS. 
 
Copyright 1915 by 
 
 The Berkeley Press 
 
 of Boston 
 
 m 30 1915 
 ©GI.A4nG7ni 
 
 
S^vo&t Cfjants 
 
 ^ir^HE soul in me cries for utterance . . . 
 ^*«^ the soul in me calls for speech. 
 Break, oh break, ye grey-woven bands of 
 silence . . . the wings of my song are 
 shaken with desire. Break, oh break, 
 dark chrysalis, where I have lain in a 
 dream, voiceless, a thousand years. 
 
 Sound breaks upon me in the darkness 
 . . . sweet voices, muffled and wild calling, 
 calling for answer. 
 
 Scent drops down to me in the dark- 
 ness . . . faint curious perfumes, the breath 
 of what unknown flowers stirred by what 
 strange wind! How may I reach and 
 know? 
 
 Light falls upon me in the darkness . . . 
 great showers of intolerable light ! 
 
 The threads are breaking . . . breaking. . . 
 oh exquisite anguish ... oh grave golden 
 wonder of creation ! Unloosed, unloosed 
 forever the silk of silence . . . empty the 
 cocoon ! 
 
iHENEVER I hear of sorrow . . . 
 Whenever I hear of suffering . . . 
 Whenever I hear of death . . . 
 A great wind of exultation 
 Sweeps in upon my soul 
 And I am borne upward 
 As on the purple wings of triumph 
 To the very threshold of the golden 
 house of God ! 
 
 i:t)e pilgrim 
 
 /J^H strange and dark and adventurous 
 ^^ is my path. 
 
 The light that I carry will only illu- 
 mine one step on the way, hold it as high 
 as I will. And my wallet has in it only 
 enough bread and wine for the day. 
 
 When I return home from my wan- 
 derings the oil in my lamp is burned out 
 and there is not one crumb left of my 
 portion. Yet what care I ! A beggar, I 
 lay me down at night upon my hard bed 
 but at dawn I arise, and lo ! there is oil in 
 my lamp and enough food in my wallet 
 to fill the mouths of a multitude ! 
 
 Oh strange and dark and adventurous 
 is my path. 
 
CAPTURE me if you will, put me in a 
 dungeon, surround me with thick 
 walls of impenetrable stone, bind my 
 feet and my hands with iron chains, blot 
 out the light of the sun and the cheerful 
 voice of my fellows. 
 
 Or if you will imprison me in some 
 dark inaccessible cavern in the solitary 
 heart of the earth and I will sit there in 
 the silence, ... I will sit there alone in 
 the silence and without the lifting of a 
 foot or the turning of a hand, by the 
 power alone of my spirit, in a little time 
 or maybe in a long time (it matters not) 
 I will escape you. 
 
 Snbocation 
 
 COME forth Thou who art myself! 
 Thou the Nameless One, the Hidden, 
 the Unknown. Come forth, oh come 
 forth from silence, from darkness, from 
 mystery ageless and timeless. 
 
 Breathe, breathe into silence, if thou 
 art Voice, if thou art Word . . . 
 
 Shine, shine, thro' darkness if thou art 
 Flame, if thou art Light . . . 
 
 Burn, burn, thro' the veil if thou 
 art Life, if thou art Fire . . . 
 
 I who am mortal put my spell on thee, 
 Immortal! 
 
 Come forth . . . Oh come forth ! 
 
 I who am mortal lay my command 
 upon thee, Immortal! 
 
 Come forth . . . Breathe ! shine ! burn ! 
 oh nameless Word! Oh hidden Flame! 
 Oh unknown Fire! 
 
Snbotatton 
 
 ^r will have power of thee oh Thou 
 -^l Divine Power whom men call God. 
 A great formless mass as it were of live 
 and fiery stuff, quick and dangerous, and 
 strength for the shaping thereof. 
 
 I will have power of thee Lord God 
 of men and angels. 
 
 I will lay the spell of my desire upon 
 the sky . . . upon the earth ; upon the sea. 
 
 Upon the fire of suns and stars and 
 moons; 
 
 Upon storms, lightnings, thunders . . . 
 
 Upon winds, and waves, and waters . . . 
 
 Upon rocks and trees, unbound 
 streams, earth broken and unbroken . . . 
 
 On all dumb things . . . 
 
 Upon man and his works . . . 
 
 Upon crowds; upon strangers passing 
 in the street, and the beggar that comes 
 to my door in the twilight . . . 
 
 Upon those that are near and those 
 that are far . . . 
 
 Yea! Upon the whole visible world, 
 and upon the invisible, I lay the spell of 
 my desire! 
 
 And upon thee, Lord God! 
 
jFreebom 
 
 'Tf ET you stand aside brother and keep 
 >^ your hand from mine that I may drink 
 of the cup that is waiting for me, and I 
 with Hps dry and parched and the Ufe in 
 me running slow and feeble because of 
 the terrible thirst. It's no right at all ye 
 have to be keeping the stuff from me and 
 it so fiery and sweet. It's no right at all 
 ye have, and if there's poison in the cup 
 who are you to say "Nay, Nay" and 
 "Yea, Yea" as if ye were a bigger man 
 than God himself ! Let you look to the 
 filling of your own soul and body, and 
 leave me the freedom of mine. 
 
 Let you stand aside brother . . . the cup 
 is mine and it's I that will be drinking of 
 it and it maybe bringing the death to me. 
 
 Let you stand aside ! 
 
'Tf ONELY, lonely and wild I am, and 
 >^ out must I go to the lone and the 
 wild. Far too long have I stayed in the 
 shelter. I am tired of make-believe sun- 
 shine, of yellow curtained light. I am 
 weary of painted green trees and if I see 
 another pink paper rose I swear I shall 
 go mad! 
 
 Lonely, lonely and wild I am and out 
 I must go where grey rocks are ragged 
 and trees stark and bare. And you, little 
 pack at my feet, my wolves of hunger 
 and thirst, my hounds of torment and 
 desire, you too shall go free. Far too 
 long have I kept you at heel, tamed you 
 and fed you by hand in fear of your 
 claws, in fear of your teeth. You shall 
 go free, my brothers, you shall race, you 
 shall leap furiously over the rough ground 
 seeking your own. You shall hunt, you 
 shall hunt, you shall find. Me shall you 
 hunt, me shall you find, me shall you 
 rend with your claws and your fangs and 
 when you kill it is my living heart you 
 shall devour and my warm blood you 
 shall drink. 
 
 Out, out I must go . . .1 the lonely, 
 the savage, the wild, I and my pack. 
 
c 
 
 a Woman ^peafesf 
 
 OMORROW? I know nothing of 
 tomorrow. This is today. 
 
 You say tomorrow I shall be robed and 
 crowned and brought in triumph to the 
 house and set in my place above the salt 
 at the king's table. Tomorrow! I know 
 nothing of tomorrow. Today I tell you 
 I lie naked among the outcast and the 
 beggar at your door. 
 
 You say tomorrow I shall be given the 
 sword and the charter and the keys and 
 that the freedom of the city shall be mine. 
 
 Tomorrow? I know nothing of to- 
 morrow. Today I tell you I am a rebel 
 and an outlaw and my life is forfeit to 
 the lust of the meanest slave in your 
 kingdom. 
 
 You say tomorrow that my voice shall 
 be heard among men and that my chil- 
 dren shall live. 
 
 Tomorrow! I know nothing of to- 
 morrow. Today my children die by 
 thousands and ten thousands in the 
 breathless streets and in the sweatshops 
 and the brothels of the city and I see 
 them and am dumb., .dumb as a dog. 
 
 Tomorrow? What of tomorrow? I 
 know nothing. This is today. 
 
Snterlube 
 
 ^CT is grey and sober where I am and 
 -21 very still. 
 
 The mists of the dawn are not yet 
 lifted and I cannot see the face of the 
 East. 
 
 None can reach me here or if they 
 come they will not know me. 
 
 I am only one blade of grass in the 
 wide field of the early world and my 
 dreams and desires tremble no further 
 than to the rising of the Sun. 
 
 W^H Moods, oh ye Messengers! Ye 
 ^^ come sweeping across to me over the 
 dim twilight edge of the horizon on 
 winged feet and golden. Oh Exulta- 
 tions, Agonies, Splendors, Despairs, you 
 come sweeping over to me and my 
 world is filled with a sound as of music 
 and a great blinding light. 
 
 Oh Moods, oh ye Messengers I know 
 your secret now, I know you bring 
 me tidings of the everlasting Gods and 
 no longer am I shaken by your beauty, 
 no longer am I bound by your spell. 
 
 I can capture and hold you with my 
 naked hands and your brightness will not 
 burn me. I can look deep and long into 
 your strange eyes and their secrets will 
 not blind me. I know now why you 
 are come. I know you bring me 
 immortal tidings from the Gods. 
 
 Oh ye Moods. Never again can you 
 pass me unchallenged. Never again 
 will I let you go by with your message 
 undelivered. 
 
 10 
 
ilHagic 
 
 |0 you think to baffle me you mad- 
 cap, you faery? Do you think I 
 cannot find you, beautiful thing, wher- 
 ever you are? 
 
 There was a time when you lured me 
 out on the wild heath to play with the 
 winds and the stars and you were the 
 stars and the winds my playthings. 
 
 There was a time when you sent me 
 out on a strange ship through strange and 
 stormy waters and you were the perils I 
 braved and the storms that o'erwhelmed 
 me. 
 
 There was a time when you set me 
 alone in the desert without food or 
 water, and you were the hunger and the 
 thirst and the loneliness I endured. 
 
 And now when you have put me into 
 a small house, with floors to sweep and 
 beds to make and many mouths to feed, 
 do you think to baffle me? Because 
 you have made yourself small enough to 
 be tucked away in a bean pot do you 
 think you are hidden from me ? Do you 
 think I cannot see you among the mops 
 and the dishpans, in the cobwebs and the 
 corners; or that I cannot catch a glimpse 
 of your silver whiteness beneath the dull 
 brown dress of the housewife ? 
 
 Do you think beautiful thing I cannot 
 find you wherever you are ? 
 
 11 
 
Attraction 
 
 laOU are strange to me and you trouble 
 cS^ me . . . little you know how I long 
 to be your friend. 
 
 When I am with you I tremble ; I can- 
 not hear what you say, for the thunder 
 of my heart. I stammer and stutter and 
 fall to silence. I cannot bear to be made 
 so violently aware of myself and I leave 
 you suddenly and go about my work 
 cursing the timid fool that I am. When 
 I dare not come near I watch you from 
 afar but I cannot keep away for long. 
 
 You are strange to me and you trouble 
 me. Little you know how I long to 
 make you aware of me. Little you know 
 how I long to be your friend. 
 
 Attraction 
 
 ^ifROM very far away I look over to 
 Jl you wistful and wondering. You 
 do not understand and I am inarticulate. 
 The beautiful grave words of friendship 
 that I would speak are prisoned like 
 doves in my heart . . . and I cannot set 
 them free. 
 
 12 
 
iWiracle 
 
 /i^H you who carelessly passing touched 
 ^U^ me and went lightly on your way 
 with never a backward look, will you 
 ever know the miracle you wrought. 
 
 I am most suddenly set free ! From a 
 cumbering web of illusion and dream I 
 am disentangled. I stand in a new place 
 realizing for the first time myself. 
 
 Oh Life potent and magical stirring 
 within me . . . 
 
 Oh changed and everchanging world 
 and I too, changed and ever changing 
 exquisitely responsive. 
 
 I renounce all past beliefs, all past 
 ideals, all past desires. 
 
 I believe only the unbelievable. 
 
 I strive only for the impossible. 
 
 I desire only the unattainable. 
 
 I am out on the Eternal Quest. 
 
 I seek the Holy Grail. 
 
 I have a new voice and a new word to 
 speak but you have passed on. Alone, 
 alone, my self must go, changed and 
 everchanging walking in a strange way 
 toward a strange end . . . 
 
 Oh you who carelessly passing touched 
 me and went lightly on your way, will 
 you ever know that you made me 
 immortal. 
 
 13 
 
3 ^pell 
 
 '2i draw from the deeps You ... to com- 
 -21 plete that which is yet incomplete . . . 
 to build that which is yet in the building 
 ... to make whole that which is yet 
 separate and imperfect . . . whether en- 
 shrined in flesh or moving free. 
 I draw from the deeps You. 
 
 Jfellotogfjip 
 
 -Jir^HOU art very far my friend . . . Thou 
 ^^ art very near. 
 
 I go up on the hilltop and look down 
 the long distance of God and lo ! on the 
 farthest horizon Thou art! 
 
 I walk by the eternal lake where no 
 wind stirs; I kneel and look down into 
 the crystal and lo ! I behold thee, my very 
 self. 
 
 Thou art very far my friend . . . Thou 
 art very near. 
 
 14 
 
Cfje Bap of Baps; 
 
 ^JN the dawning the silver trumpet of 
 ^ the Angel of the morning blows 
 clearly and loud across the quiet fields of 
 sleep and I hear and with joy arise and 
 make ready. 
 
 But what shall I say of the hours that 
 go between the dawn and the nightfall? 
 
 I will say they are the diggers and 
 delvers in the earth; the strong men; 
 the hewers of wood and of stone, and 
 that with pride and a cheerful arrogance 
 they bend to their mighty task, for I ask 
 you, how without their aid shall be laid 
 the foundations of the House of the 
 Lord? 
 
 And I will say they are the merchants 
 and the dealers, the buyers and the sell- 
 ers, and that they wander all over the 
 earth and return by land and by sea, 
 bringing rich cargoes and rare merchan- 
 dise for the adornment of the House of 
 the Lord. 
 
 And I will say that they are the reapers 
 in the fields and the grinders of corn, the 
 laborers in the vineyard and the treaders 
 of the wine press, and that their hands 
 are horny with toil and their feet red and 
 stained from the purple of the grape, for 
 I ask you, how without their aid shall the 
 bread and the wine be prepared and 
 made ready for the sacrament of the 
 Lord? 
 
 15 
 
tKfje £iqfyt of ^i^W 
 
 ^JN the twilight comes silence and rest 
 ^ and the tides of God flowing over 
 my soul that was dry and parched and 
 sunbeaten. 
 
 But what shall I say of the hours that 
 go between the night and the dawning? 
 I will say that they are the makers and 
 builders of the temple of the Most High, 
 and that the ringing sound of their labor 
 is sweeter than the song of the angels. 
 
 And I will say they are the magicians 
 and the artists, the adorners of the temple 
 of the Most High, and that the work of 
 their hands is of a beauty unimaginable 
 and a splendor undreamed. 
 
 And I will say further that they are the 
 priests of the temple of the Most High 
 and that they come clad in raiment white 
 and shining, bearing the golden cup of 
 wine and the sacramental bread and that 
 whoever eateth and drinketh thereof 
 shall never know death. 
 
 16 
 
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