PS A— ^y-C^ i-ri HI n HI n M n 1 1 1 1 HH I HI t II rirTTT: 1022 N THE SEA WORLD WAITS BY HERBERT J. HALL The Four Seas Company tt Publishers i: Boston 111 I i II i* mi I i t ii > i i m ti* M JMtiTT Glass J^3SiS_ Boole .As 4-554- CopyrightN"_J^jLL_ COPn^IGKT DEPOSIT. THE SEA WORLD WAITS A Book of Poems BY HERBERT J. HALL BOSTON THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY 1922 Copyright, 1^22, by The Four Seas Company ^^n^b The Four Seas Press Boston, Mass., U. S. A. AUG 31 1922 ©C1A686159 CONTENTS PART I. THE SEA WORLD WAITS Page The Sea World Waits 9 The Island ^^ In Solitude ^^ Mirage ^^ Calm ^3 Spring ^4 The Storm ^5 Fog i6 Sirens ^7 Memories ^° Triumph ^9 Captivity Captive ^^ The Word 21 Prayer ^^ Truth 23 The Voice 24 The Future 25 The Line 26 Fire on the Beach in Winter 27 Moon Path 28 Rain at Sea 29 Sunrise 3^ Harbor Water 3^ Sunlight 32 The Wave 33 Lest the Great Sea Be Lonely 34 PART II. THEME Theme 37 The Old Symphony 38 Bass Viol • • • 39 Cello 40 Oboe 41 Clarinet 42 Bass Tuba 43 The Harp 44 Cymbals 45 Fantasy 46 Pride 47 March Funebre 48 Flame Song 49 NovAES 50 Prelude 51 Intermezzo 52 Finale 53 PART III. TREE, YOU ARE A SHADOW Tree, You Are a Shadow 57 The Hearth Fire 59 Tree-Tops in a Storm 60 Moon Moth 61 Scarf Dance 62 Fire Fly Dance 63 Clog Dance 65 Snow 66 Moonlight 67 The Stone Tiger 68 Tiger, Tiger 69 The Road 70 The Hand 71 The Pistol ^2 Midnight 73 PART I The Sea World Waits THE SEA WORLD WAITS The ocean pauses, will there be storm or sun — The morning mists hang low, the long seas ply Their even course. Half tide, the great gulls cry. Half tide, half tide — and slowly, one by one They dip and ride the waves, smooth waves that run Like liquid silver dulled, smooth waves that die Where vague and low the distant islands lie. Lean ribbed islands, bleak and bare and dun. Who knows what fate hangs now upon the shift The casual turn of wind? Heavy and gray And timelesss all the sea world waits until — Unnoticed, straight above, a cloudy rift Comes blue, closes, widens — ^wins the day — The light burns through. The sun god has his will. [9] THE ISLAND Spray drenched ledges, brown as the weeds are brown, White ridged as foam is white, — touched with green Of bay — low spreading oaks and pines that lean As the wind wills — tall cliffs plunging down and down To lightless depths of sea that hold and drown; And here behind their sheltering rock-carved screen A few gray houses, low and patched and mean, — Lonely and still — the little fisher town — Lost in the sea, remote and bleak and still. The last brave outpost of the world of men. Here have I come, here shall all striving cease — My work is done — here shall I have my fill Of silence. Give me your perfect quiet then. Dream Island, give me at last your own great peace. lO] IN SOLITUDE Here in still island solitude the way, Of thought, the ways of feeling, change and clear. With ocean's depth and mystery so near, The haste, the restlessness of living, stay Their course. Confusion and the heavy sway Of doubt, the reign of s^hadow-haunted fear, Like thinning mist-clouds, lift and disappear In clarity of dawn and closing day. Here limits vanish and I seem to know Something of largeness — call it what you will. Faith, insight — these the wide sea gives; They come unbidden with the ebb and flow Of many waters, fill my heart until The spirit that was dead within me lives. [II] MIRAGE The great sea dreams fantastic dreams today, Sun magic rules the water and the sky And who shall say what lands are those that lie Along the blurred horizon, dim and gray. Ships that sailed long since a world away Come back again at last, go drifting by — Dreams, sea dreams that live awhile and die — Vain and idle fancies — ^who shall say. Fail now across the shining water planes The cries of sailors and the ghostly sound Of deep sea chanteys; vaguely far and tall The towers of enchanted islands, fanes And palaces, grow dim; outward bound Once more the dream ships pass beyond recall. [12] CALM Deep blue and motionless, the wide sea blends With sky and cloud till sea and sky are one, One with the heavy air and with the sun: Rarely a far bright surface turns and sends A shoreward flash ; the shimmering distance bends And wavers with long lines of heat that run Almost invisible. The day begun In calm, in night of calm, unchanging ends. Too prodigal the warm sun-minted gold. Too calm the sea. The ancient menace sleeps But lightly through the still midsummer day. Have care, have care, the ocean*s depths are cold, Beware the night, the chill of danger creeps. Far in the west the broad heat lightnings play. 13] SPRING With greenness unbelievable the spring Touches the island valleys. Day by day The planes of ocean soften and the gray Old rocks grow warm. The long bright waves up-fling Their sudden showers. High on easy wing The white gulls soar. Fickle winds of May Over the storm-worn granite hilltops play — Who shall betray their gentle murmuring? Who shall betray these soft, peace-fbreathing airs — Who shall remember? Even now the light Grows dim — the quick recession of a wave Drops for a space the old disguise and bares The sharp edged reef where cold and black as night Yawns a deep cavern Mke an open grave. [14] THE STORM Death, white death in the rush of the roaring gale, White arms of death among the crouching rocks: The Hfted ocean rises, rises, locks The island in one fierce embrace — tlhey fail — The strong defences fail — whole seas assail The crumbling land. Mighty granite blocks Uplifted, leap and roll in tumbling flocks. Death, white death and the storm's unceasing wail. Death, still death. O God of crashing storm. What is this limp and lifeless thing that lies Undone, this man whose last defiant breath Calls on Thy name, this man still limp and warm, This man who struggles to the last and dies. Who triumphs in the very arms of death? [15] FOG The sea gives up its unremembered dead — They walk the shore, they crown the cUffs, they stand On every cape and pinnacle of land. Each quiet cove and inlet feels their tread. Up from the darkness of the ocean's bed Obedient to a stern, low voiced command, At the wavering beck of a pale, uplifted hand They come, the silent hosts of fear and dread. We feel their presence in the dripping cloud; Their touch is on our foreheads, over all The sunlit world the darkening vapors sail — This is their day, the drifting sea wraiths crowd Into our lives, breathless we hear their call And stout indeed the heart that does not quail. [i6] SIRENS Calling, singing, calling through the rain — Siren voices, strong, insistent, near, Then far and failing with the fall and veer Of cold sea wind. Silence — and again The calling — shall the siren song be vain? Above the noise of waters, faint and clear: — "This helmsman, this way, have no fear." Clearing sea mists bear the soft refrain. Cordage pearled with fog and sails adrip. High bows lifting to the rain-white swell — A gliding spectre feels her way along — Shrouded for her grave, the freighted ship. Shrouded for her grave? The cry "All's well' Comes back to mock tihe distant siren song. [17] MEMORIES Poignant, grief laden, chill and comfortless How the old memories come flooding back, Known sins, known weaknesses and all the lack Of brave accomplishment, the consciousness Of heavy wrong that stands without redress, That death will oome before the hanging slack Can be made taut, before the dull and black Will shine again or trouble cease to press. Yet the blue seas their sloping shores enfold. The spreading waters warm beneath the sun. Peace, beauty, power, these abide — To shame me in my littleness; the bold Hard ledges mock, and gleaming ripples run Lightly above the steady rising tide. [i8] TRIUMPH All, all is taken from me, all — I know but heavy sorrow and the long Insistent pain that comes of hopeless wrong. The heavens that were love and beauty fall — Joy and laughter are beyond recall. Yet shall the barren places hear my song, Yet shall the courage of my faitlh be strong. Unmoved, resistant like a great sea wall. For in the barrenness of life I feel A dignity and greatness that can be Naught but the hand of God. Cold and bare The sloping shores, merciless "as steel The hard flat surface of the circling sea — The more life mocks at me the more I dare. >9] CAPTIVITY CAPTIVE Rough bound on every hand by walls of stone, Held prisoner by a sea that never sleeps, Bowed in a dreary wailing wind that sweeps The warmtlh and comfort out of life, alone I walk these island paths; what shall atone For hard gray walls and grim, death-guarded keeps, For cold that from the icy water creeps Into the shrinking marrow of the bone. Not less than freedom is the full return For bondage; I must force with bleeding hands The bonds ithat hold me; up the winding stair Of this earth dungeon I sihall leap to learn The exaltation of a wide command. The spreading sea, the boundless fields of air. [20] THE WORD The morning sunlight Uke a cloth of gold Sparkles upon the sea. A fresh wind takes The rising waves, from roughening water shakes The flying whitecaps. Swiftly, fold on fold The long blue rollers, deep and bright and cold, Pass the tall headlands. All the sea world wakes- A new creation with the sunrise breaks — A keen new world for one grown gray and old. So is the morning, so the glowing sun. Even the hollows of the dark sea caves Far in the depths of their eternal night Feel the faint stirring of the day begun. Above the mighty concourse of the waves God speaks the word again and there is light. [21] PRAYER Long days of island stillness, nights that fill The firmament with blazing stars — the frail Soft wonder of tlie moon — white clouds that sail Like battle fleets of old — the golden thrill Of sunrise mounting, mounting high until The last faint glimmers of the planets fail. What have these things to do witlh that old tale Of heaven and an all pervading Will? With half closed eyes I let the strong light in, I breathe the amazing freshness of the day, I reach out slowly with a groping hand: — **God of the sea," the whispered words begin Their faltering prayer, "show me, show me the way, Almost I see, almost I understand." 22] TRUTH What if I gaze at evening from an heig^ht And see the colors of the world grow dim — The ocean's limitless horizon rim Lost in the trailing shadows of the night. The hard reefs in the pale, uncertain light Melt in their ghostly froth and where were grim Sea walls of stone, appear at evening's whim Thin, trel'lised films of shadow tissue slight. Nothing is real, the ocean at my feet Has all the airy depths of cloudless skies. No more are time and space, whatever seems Is true. In boundless solitude I greet The night of mystery, the truth that lies Deep hidden in the quiet land of dreams. [23] THE VOICE Speak not, be still, the smallest human sound Would bring from every side an ihundred more To rend the silence with their echo roar. The very heart, the restless heart is bound In silence. Here witihin this rocky mound — This island in midsea — the slender core Of stillness lies and all the sunlit shore Dreams in a spell of quiet — ^wide, profound. Out of the deep a sigh, a murmur grows; A crystal voicing of the ocean's breath Comes and is gone — ^through every cove and bend The word is passed along, along it flows — The sea's slow commenting on life and death — Voice of the beginning and the end. [24] THE FUTURE Time halts here — time that knows the glare Of mid-day suns, the mist-hung fields of dawn, Long tranquil afternoons and the forlorn Sweet hours of dusk — ^time that knows breaking care, Long days of struggle, brave resolve, the wear And strain of life, the aching love and scorn. Time halts — a great oibscuring veil is drawn Across the past, leaving oblivion there. Oblivion — the long unfolding done — Time halts a moment's space and bids me stand Waiting, thoughtful, silent and alone — The old days dead, the future scarce begun. A wave breaks hollow on the shining sand, I turn and face again the great unknown. [25] THE LINE Today I ihave seen A clear dividing line Drawn sharp between The winter and the spring. Snow is on the marshes And on all the hills Down to the very margin of the sea. There is the Hne And there begins the spring. Soft blue as ever yet in May, Wide fields of ocean, misty blue, Stretch on and on — Into the bending sky. [26] FIRE ON THE BEACH IN WINTER In the waste of snow The drift-wood smokes and kindles, Turns to flame, Heat and cold commingle, Strive for mastery. The flame is dull against the snow, It glows against the gray sea — The smoke has color of the sea. The round, black rimmed hole in the snow Is like a window into an inner world of fire The salt edge of the sea Comes creeping, creeping Over the icy shingle. The keen salt edge of the sea— To quench the world of fire. [27] MOON PATH The moon path is a net of silver fishes, Whirhng, twisting, leaping at their play. I draw tihe net in slowly, carefully — It is strangely light — I might have known the slender cords would break. [28] RAIN AT SEA A million little circling water rings, A million tiny leaping dots of white Trouble the smoothness of the flattened sea. A new delight of freshness fills the air, A wordless whisper — and the shower has passed. .29] SUNRISE At early dawn the fisher fleet Lay still and gray and cold As the ghost gray sea: — A rose red flush came up the sky, The masts were burnished gold With sails of rose; — A flare of flame as broad as the moon Burned through the barrier clouds A path of fire; — The masts charred black and the limp sails hung As dark as the darkened shrouds Across the sun. [30] HARBOR WATER Green, opaque, Like a huge inlay of glass The harbor water lies — Reflecting nothing; Giving back instead At odd, uneven intervals, A quick, blind glare of sun. I3i] SUNLIGHT Green and gold the waters play All across tihe wind-swept bay. Never trail of shadow there, Green and gold the waters wear — Green and gold and gray. Life and light possess the day, Near and distant, all the way. What is shadow, what is care? Green and gold the waters wear — Green and gold and gray. [32] THE WAVE Out of the deep water Into the shoal water Breaking reflections of clouds and sky- Into the still water Silently, coolly, Came the smooth roll of a wave. Into the weed tangle Lifting, floating, Over the dull rocks leaving them bright- Under the clifif' s edge Murmuring, sighing. Flowed and was ended — the wave. [33] LEST THE GREAT SEA BE LONELY Lest the great sea be lonely, lest it fear, Recede and dwindle in the lengthening night — The low moon thin and pale and warped and sere Hangs out at last her yellow lantern light. t34] PART II Theme THEME The simple theme has haunted me for days With quiet, slow insistence. In all my dreams The brave elaborations rise and fall Timed to a quiet breathing. And may the God of all musicians give to me The strange poetic sureness That can take Out of the formless world of air and sun A music that has lived there always But unknown, unheard, undreamed, A music that shall speak with surer tongue Than all the lovely words that have been spoken. Come to me, soul of viol. Soul of harp. Crooning of mellow tubes. Come to me and let your voices flow In magic modulations — Come to me rhythm and balance You are my inner life, my knowledge. Now shall the song be made — Song of my brain Song of the air and sun, Song of sweet life and living Voice of the silent world. [37] THE OLD SYMPHONY Old music lives again today. These violins and 'cellos, flutes and horns, Are old, old instruments. The great piano has become A tinkling harpsichord — The leader sits before it — Raises a free hand Releasing so The first notes of the ancient symphony. On, on the measures flow Fresh and sweet and true — They have not matched it in these later days. Andante con moto, Adagio, tripping scherzo. Allegro maestro assai — Groping, searching, Dancing, jesting. Triumphing at last. The white haired leader rises slowly. Bows with stately grace, Then as fades a dream Grows dim And is no more. [38] BASS VIOL Shedding gold pollen like a giant bee Tihe squat bow sweeps across the viol's face — Deep sounds, cross cuts of music, meaning naught Yet serving all — the true support, the bass. Down, down the viol slides to depths below All sound — 'to depths where silence lies unmoved. [39] 'CELLO O splendid voice, singing alone, Restrained by trembling fingers, Then given freely, warmly, fully. Voice of the old brown wood — Singing to the people. Singing to dull ears That cannot understand. Wake now, rouse them. Give them your meaning fully, Give them war and strife — Give them beauty growing out of strife. Beauty that makes the heart ache. Beauty that makes tihe heart break. Then peace, a long, deep, final peace. [40] OBOE But let that note be heard Above the sound of strings — The concert Hghts grow dim, A sudden shadow brings The spirit of dreaming woods, Of moonUt glades that lie Far, far from the ways of men Beneath the quiet sky. [41] CLARINET W'hen the hot sun owns the earth and sky And round fruit bends the trees, When the iharvesters leave the fields and lie Full length in the slow winged breeze, Then Jean joints up his clarinet And pipes a reedy tune — A dry httle air and the time is set To the heat of the harvest noon. To the heat and the dust and 'the clustered vine And the air of a sultry day. To the glint of a distant water shine And the smell of new mown hay. [42] BASS TUBA I am the deep foundation, Sounding brass; Others pass, I, I alone remain. My great mouth flares above The busy throng, My heavy song Goes burrowing far below. My long vibrations hold. Begin and break, Descend and shake The very walls of sound. [43] THE HARP Obscured and dim, yet full of instant life — A woman's instrument, that feels and knows The tug of sorrow and the joy of strife, The kiss of lovers and the clash of foes. [44] CYMBALS The cymbals w^hispered — ^hush — They said that — Hush— The great brass disks That should have clashed, That should have shattered silence, Hush, hush — they said — And silence came. 145] FANTASY Oh, sweet irrelevance of flowing sound, Of music that will wander without stay Over the world and under the world at play — Oh, voices lost and of a sudden found, That will not follow, will not yet be bound; — Music of dawn and of the dying day; — Music of color, green and blue and gray ; Voices of air and of the sun-warmed ground. What instrument shall form you, wihat red lips Can sing your quick withdrawal and the shy Renewal of your loveliness? What time Can beat for you whose changing rhythm trips And glides, whose magic words so swiftly fly They will not bear the fairy weight of rhyme? [46] PRIDE Musician with your pride of tone, Your joy of rushing speed, Your multitudinous notes, Splendor of great passage, Decorations Hght as air — Be not proud — For the poet too may sing. Here and there Some shining broidery of rhyme, Some cadenced word of human speech Obscures your flying measures. All your splendid themes. Your fine elaborations fail Before that magic word. Poet with your breathing loveliness of words, The flute and viol of your flowing speech, Be not too proud, too sure of mastery — What words of yours can match the sunrise; When moonlight speaks, your vaunted words are dumb. Sea, air, sky and velvet valley, Sunlit peak and spreading river, Be not proud, be not certain of your mastery. There is in touch of hand, In curve of brow, in lips that speak no word, More of beauty, more of light, more of heaven. Than ever yet was known or can be known elsewhere. All the joy of life may sing In one swift glance of love. [47] MARCHE FUNEBRE I must have youth beside me when they play Music of sorrow, youth that does not know The weight of sorrow. Steady and deep and slow The great march. Now the silent soldiers sway Rhythmically, heavily, down the peopled way. Loss, unending loss, the trumpets blow, Keen, keen the blending measures grow — A brave soul marches to the grave today. Stand closer, youth, brave youth with unbowed head. Your spirit shall be mine, your courage mine. Though tightening heart and sudden indrawn breath Pay tribute to this music of the dead. In the clear distance, down the lengthening line The trumpets sing of triumph over death. [48] FLAME SONG Flame ! What else shall I call you — Girl of the song? Flame ! How the orchestral branches sway Like trees in the wind. Tihe fire of your song Mounts up and up Above the branches — Consuming, leaping, Failing, falling. Till embers alone remain. [49] NOVAES Suddenly I knew that this young girl- Playing old music, great musiic With ease and brilliance — Was doing the incredible. I knew that she had somehow passed A vague and mystic bound, That she was over, well over, Into the realms of enchantment. Without effort, without sign, Perhaps without knowing it herself. She had crossed tihe border — She was no longer playing the piano. She was dreaming — she was free. [50] PRELUDE I would have this music played With players grouped about a fountain — Here the violins, There the 'cellos, Double bass beyond — And back, half hidden by the fountain bowl, The flute, an oboe and a long bassoon. A thin, smooth water jet Uprises, Wavers, Holds, Breaks brightly at the top And falls — a silver shower. Ready, bows and reeds, Ready, flute — Well played — Now you have heard and seen, Tell me which was motion. Which was sound, The fountain or the flute — And was the pizzicato done with strings Or dropping water? 51 INTERMEZZO The water jet falls lower, lower — Ceases. The sliding bows are still. Rhythm cancels rhythm, Nothing stirs — And yet upon the soundless air Steals out with fairy shyness Sometihing words may not disclose- A soft andante muted down Until it seems The very voice of silence. [52] FINALE Wake now and let the fountain wake — Forget the dream, Think now of Hfe and motion. A sheaf of streams leaps upward, Mingles, Falls to rise again, again, While charmed voices Intricately sing. A gleaming discord strikes one dagger thrust And goes. The crossed themes fly, They break, recover — Under all The great slow bass Spreads out a deep'ning shadow Till the hush of twilight comes, Until the slow, slow pace That lurks in every tempo swift Comes to its own. The water sheaf Becomes a single slender shaft again — Falls lower, lower, Sinks at last Into the fountain bowl. [53] PART III TreCj You Are a Shadow TREE, YOU ARE A SHADOW Tree, you are a shadow, Hooded with night. I think of hands. Folded in a black cloak, A head bent low. You do not stir. You do not speak. Tree, you are a shadow, Ominous and still. You are aloof. You are mysterious. Do you delight In the fireflies that dance above your roots, Are you amused By the sudden, shivering cry, The screech owl cry That you and I were expecting? I feel your aloofness. And your mystery, But I am not afraid. Tree, you are a shadow, Hooded with night. Is it birdsong or light that awakes me, Or tihe rustle of wind in the leaves? The night is gone And the shadows are gone. Ah, my tree — As the sap goes mounting skyward, [57] In your strong trunk, As your great branches sway in the air and the Hght So Hfe comes back to me And I feel, Vaguely but surely as you must feel, The courage and the will to live. [S8] THE HEARTH FIRE Steadily the fire played Upon the old heart of the wood. The great log slept in cool disdain. Over the iron bark and strong, spHt surfaces The insistent flames made myriad designs. A soft blue smoke kept rising, rising. Suddenly it came — the conflagration — The strong old wood gave way In a hundred places And fire leaped from its heart. [59] TREE-TOPS IN A STORM They rise and tug like leashed balloons- Up and down, side to side — Formless, green-black, leaping masses- Opening, closing, spreading, folding, Streaming with the rain. [60] MOON MOTH Darkly, Brightly, Wings of moonlight gleaming- Sailing, Drifting, Moon moth. Swiftly, Slowly, Less than shadow seeming — Silver, Nothing, Moon moth. [6i SCARF DANCE Dance ! For the fairy folk are dancing now. Dance ! The fairy folk will show you how. Great folk are dancing, Elf folk are prancing, Come now. Come make your bow. Come now, come out upon the moonlit green, Silk scarfs are flowing in a moonlit sheen, Great folk are dancing, Elf folk are prancing, Come now. Come make your bow. Moon music flowing with a soundless sound. Tip toes just touching on the dancing grounc Dance ! To the fairy music bend your knees. Dance ! For the wind is in the bending trees — Come now Come make your bow. [62] FIRE FLY DANCE Under the drooping elms the night is dark: the meadow seems lighter as though a fine mist were lying on the grass: in the deep shade of the trees a tiny greenish yellow star begins to glide back and forth in a sihort arc — ^this way, that way, disappearing in the darkness at each end of the swing. It is the baton of the fairy leader; it is the signal for the dance. Suddenly the tree toads and the frogs begin to pipe: Whee— The lantern dance. Winking Linking Bright Glows the elfin light Blinking Sinking Dark Goes each shining spark. Over the wide meadow the dance goes on; groups of lantern dancers hold the stage left, right and centre. Suddenly then, the whole stage glows with the ensemble : [63] Winking Linking Now Pirouette and bow. Blinking Sinking Done Off stage, off stage they run. A dog barks in the distance — the frogs and tree toads stop their piping for a moment, while in the darkness the stage is set for the next act, which is the Dance of Moon Beams. Slowly the meadow lightens. The moon appears from behind a heavy cloud bank. The piping begins in a lower, slower movement: Softly— The Dance of the Moon Beams. [64] CLOG DANCE Clap Rap Slap-slap-ker-slap, Heel rap, Toe slap, Heel rapping, Toe slapping. Now they are clipping it. Speeding up, slipping it, Off in the wihirl of it. Caught in the skirl of it. Pipers are puffing it, Drummers are ruffing it. Quick fiddles scratching it. Sharp fifer catching it. Keep it up, make it go. Keep it up heel and toe — On till the drummer drags, On till the fifer lags. Clap, Rap, Slap- slap— ker-slap. [65] SNOW Soft flakes light as air Sweep, Creep, Across the quiet fields; Slowly whiten the meadow, Fly, Lie, Cover the green of the world. Gray skies hold back the storm. Hold The cold. Behind vast billowing curtains The cloud-bound whirlwind waits. [66] MOONLIGHT Straight ovenhead A small, hard disk of silver Set in blue. The sky is empty : Not a star may shine. The moon-blanched land Lies bleak and shadowless. [67] THE STONE TIGER Four inches high he sits, Small ears held flat, His eyes two greenish slits Drawn down slantwise. The fanged jaws open wide- Is it a yawn, A silent roar of pride, Or is it protest At a world gone mad. At life awry And more than jungle bad? He comforts me. [68] TIGER, TIGER At night my stone smooth tiger gUdes Across the silent room. He's somewhere now, somewhere he hides Within the bookish gloom. Good hunting friend, the tangled brake Of poets be your lair. Crouch low behind my black bound Blake, Crouch low, good tiger, glare. Old Blake will know and welcome you There in the shifty night, But oh, whatever else you do, Burn bright for him, burn bright. [69] THE ROAD Tremulous patches of yellow light Lying along the wheel-worn way Fade and are gone as the whispering night Speeds through the woods at close of day. What of the road in the starlight dim Pallid and still in a world of shade? What of the road and what of him Who follows its course through the wooded glade? [70] THE HAND I saw it, I tell you — A hand on the raiMng— It came slowly Out of the darkness. The knuckles whitened As though a weight were lifting- I stood in the sihadow, Dared not move — But the hand slid down islowly And was gone. [71 THE PISTOL The towering shadow of a man, The round blue rim of a pistol Death ! But I leapt at him— Crash — The night flared red — I, the coward, I, the weakling — Leapt — and won. l72] MIDNIGHT Tick — Tock, Rise, great moon, above the hill. The dream-touched house is white and still, Tick — Tock — In a darkened room the hours pass: Slowly, slowly through the glass Tick — Tock, The moonlight creeps across the floor. Brightens the wall, the hearth, the door; Tick — Tock — Falls like snow in a windless place, Reaches a quiet, sleeping face, Tick — Tock — No sound there is in the world tonight But the old clock ticking left and right. Tick — Tock. [73] #