Class _j:15a^2j. 
 
 Book .l3SH,3 
 
 COPyRIGHT DEPOSITS 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
MAIN 
 STREET 
 
 and 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 9 
 
 

 COPYRIGHT, 191 7, 
 BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 
 
 PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 
 
 OCT 16 1917 
 
 'G; ^476577 
 
TO 
 MRS. EDMUND LEAMY 
 
Some of these poems are reprinted by permission, which is 
 hereby gratefully acknowledged, of The Bellman, The Bookman, 
 The Boston Transcript, the Catholic World, Collier's, The 
 Columbiad, Contemporary Verse, The Delineator, Extension, 
 House and Garden, The Magnificat, McBride's Magazine, The 
 National Sunday Magazine, The New Witness, The New York 
 Times, The Outlook, Poetry: a Magazine of Verse, The Poetry 
 Review, The Queen's Work, and Studies. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 Main Street .# . . i3 
 
 Roofs i6 
 
 The Snowman in the Yard 19 
 
 A Blue Valentine 22 
 
 Houses . • • 26 
 
 In Memory 28 
 
 Apology 31 
 
 The Proud Poet 34 
 
 Lionel Johnson 38 
 
 Father Gerard Hopkins, S. J 39 
 
 Gates and Doors 40 
 
 -The Robe of Christ 43 
 
 The Singing Girl 47 
 
 The Annunciation 48 
 
 Roses 49 
 
 The Visitation 5i 
 
 Multiplication . 52 
 
 Thanksgiving 54 
 
 [9 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page 
 
 The Thorn 55 
 
 The Big Top 56 
 
 Queen Elizabeth Speaks 60 
 
 Mid-ocean in War-time 61 
 
 In Memory of Rupert Brooke 62 
 
 The New School 63 
 
 Easter Week 66 
 
 The Cathedral of Rheims 68 
 
 Kmgs 73 
 
 *The White Ships and the Red 74 
 
 [10 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 MAIN STREET 
 
 (For S. M. L.) 
 
 T LIKE to look at the blossomy track of the moon 
 
 upon the sea, 
 But it isn't half so fine a sight as Main Street used 
 
 to be 
 When it all was covered over with a couple of 
 
 feet of snow, 
 And over the crisp and radiant road the ringing 
 
 sleighs would go. 
 
 Now, Main Street bordered with autumn leaves, 
 
 it was a pleasant thing. 
 And its gutters were gay with dandelions early in 
 
 the Spring; 
 I like to think of it white with frost or dusty in 
 
 the heat, 
 Because I think it is humaner than any other 
 
 street. 
 
 [13 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 MAIN STREET (continued) 
 
 A city street that is busy and wide is ground by a 
 
 thousand wheels, 
 And a burden of traffic on its breast is all it ever 
 
 feels : 
 It is dully conscious of weight and speed and of 
 
 work that never ends, 
 But it cannot be human like Main Street, and 
 
 recognise its friends. 
 
 There were only about a hundred teams on Main 
 
 Street in a day, 
 And twenty or thirty people, I guess, and some 
 
 children out to play. 
 And there wasn't a wagon or buggy, or a man or 
 
 a girl or a boy 
 That Main Street didn't remember, and somehow 
 
 seem to enjoy. 
 
 The truck and the motor and trolley car and the 
 
 elevated train 
 They make the weary city street reverberate with 
 
 pain: 
 
 [14] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 MAIN STREET (continued) 
 
 But there is yet an echo left deep down within my 
 
 heart 
 Of the music the Main Street cobblestones made 
 
 beneath a butcher's cart. 
 
 God be thanked for the Milky Way that runs 
 across the sky, 
 
 That's the path that my feet would tread when- 
 ever I have to die. 
 
 Some folks call it a Silver Sword, and some a 
 Pearly Crown, 
 
 But the only thing I think it is, is Main Street, 
 Heaventown. 
 
 15 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 ROOFS 
 
 (For Amelia Josephine Burr) 
 
 ^T^HE road is wide and the stars are out and the 
 ^ breath of the night is sweet, 
 
 And this is the time when wanderlust should 
 
 seize upon my feet. 
 But I'm glad to turn from the open road and the 
 
 starlight on my face, 
 And to leave the splendour of out-of-doors for a 
 
 human dwelling place. 
 
 I never have seen a vagabond who really liked to 
 
 roam ^ 
 
 All up and down the streets of the world and not 
 
 to have a home : 
 The tramp who slept in your bam last night and 
 
 left at break of day 
 WiU wander only imtil he finds another place to 
 
 stay. 
 
 i6] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 ROOFS (continued) 
 
 A gypsy-man will sleep in his cart with canvas 
 
 overhead ; 
 Or else he'll go into his tent when it is time for 
 
 bed. 
 He'll sit on the grass and take his ease so long 
 
 as the stm is high, 
 But when it is dark he wants a roof to keep away 
 
 the sky. 
 
 If you call a gypsy a vagabond, I think you do him 
 
 wrong, 
 For he never goes a-travelling but he takes his 
 
 home along. 
 And the only reason a road is good, as every 
 
 wanderer knows. 
 Is just because of the homes, the homes, the 
 
 homes to which it goes. 
 
 They say that life is a highway and its milestones 
 
 are the years. 
 And now and then there's a toll-gate where you 
 
 buy your way with tears. 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 ROOFS (continued) 
 
 It's a rough road and a steep road and it stretches 
 
 broad and far, 
 But at last it leads to a golden Town where 
 
 golden Houses are. 
 
 i8 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE SNOWMAN IN THE YARD 
 
 (For Thomas Augustine Daly) 
 
 npHE Judge's house has a splendid porch, with 
 pillars and steps of stone, 
 And the Judge has a lovely flowering hedge 
 that came from across the seas ; 
 In the Hales' garage you could put my house and 
 everything I own, 
 And the Hales have a lawn like an emerald 
 and a row of poplar trees. 
 
 Now I have only a little house, and only a little 
 lot. 
 And only a few square yards of lawn, with 
 dandelions starred; 
 But when Winter comes, I have something there 
 that the Judge and the Hales have not. 
 And it's better worth having than all their 
 wealth — it's a snowman in the yard. 
 
 19 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE SNOWMAN IN THE YARD (continued) 
 
 The Judge's money brings architects to make his 
 mansion fair; 
 The Hales have seven gardeners to make their 
 roses grow; 
 The Judge can get his trees from Spain and 
 France and everywhere, 
 And raise his orchids under glass in the midst 
 of all the snow. 
 
 But I have something no architect or gardener 
 ever made, 
 A thing that is shaped by the busy touch of 
 little mittened hands : 
 And the Judge would give up his lonely estate, 
 where the level snow is laid 
 For the tiny house with the trampled yard, the 
 yard where the snowman stands. 
 
 They say that after Adam and Eve were driven 
 away in tears 
 To toil and suffer their life-time through, 
 because of the sin they sinned. 
 
 [20 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 THE SNOWMAN IN THE YARD (continued) 
 
 The Lord made Winter to punish them for half 
 their exiled years, 
 To chill their blood with the snow, and pierce 
 their flesh with the icy wind. 
 
 But we who inherit the primal curse, and labour 
 for our bread. 
 Have yet, thank God, the gift of Home, though 
 Eden^s gate is barred : 
 And through the Winter's crystal veil. Love's 
 roses blossom red. 
 For him who lives in a house that has a snow- 
 man in the yard. 
 
 [21] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 A BLUE VALENTINE 
 
 (For Aline) 
 
 -lyrONSIGNORE, 
 
 Right Reverend Bishop Valentinus, 
 Sometime of Interamna, which is called Femi, 
 Now of the delightful Court of Heaven, 
 I respectfully salute you, 
 I genuflect 
 And I kiss your episcopal ring. 
 
 It is not, Monsignore, 
 The fragrant memory of your holy life. 
 Nor that of your shining and joyous martyrdom, 
 Which causes me now to address you. 
 But since this is your august festival, Monsignore, 
 It seems appropriate to me to state 
 According to a venerable and agreeable custom, 
 That I love a beautiful lady. 
 Her eyes, Monsignore, 
 
 Are so blue that they put lovely little blue reflec- 
 tions 
 
 22 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 A BLUE VALENTINE (continued) 
 
 On everything that she looks at, 
 
 Such as a wall 
 
 Or the moon 
 
 Or my heart. 
 
 It is like the light coming through blue stained 
 
 glass, 
 Yet not quite like it, 
 For the blueness is not transparent, 
 Only translucent. 
 Her soul's light shines through, 
 But her soul cannot be seen. 
 It is something elusive, whimsical, tender, wanton, 
 
 infantile, wise 
 And noble. 
 
 She wears, Monsignore, a blue garment, 
 Made in the manner of the Japanese. 
 It is very blue — 
 
 I think that her eyes have made it more blue, 
 Sweetly staining it 
 As the pressure of her body has graciously given 
 
 it form. 
 
 23 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 A BLUE VALENTINE (continued 
 
 Loving her, Monsignore, 
 I love all her attributes; 
 But I believe 
 
 That even if I did not love her 
 I would love the blueness of her eyes, 
 And her blue garment, made in the manner of 
 the Japanese. 
 
 Monsignore, 
 
 I have never before troubled you with a request. 
 
 The saints whose ears I chiefly worry with my 
 
 pleas are the most exquisite and maternal 
 
 Brigid, 
 Gallant Saint Stephen, who puts fire in my blood. 
 And your brother bishop, my patron. 
 The generous and jovial Saint Nicholas of Bari. 
 But, of your courtesy, Monsignore, 
 Do me this favour: 
 
 When you this morning make your way 
 To the Ivory Throne that bursts into bloom with 
 
 roses because of her who sits upon it. 
 
 24 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 A BLUE VALENTINE (continued) 
 
 When you come to pay your devoir to Our Lady, 
 
 I beg you, say to her : 
 
 "Madame, a poor poet, one of your singing 
 
 servants yet on earth. 
 Has asked me to say that at this moment he is 
 
 especially grateful to you 
 For wearing a blue gown." 
 
 25 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 w 
 
 HOUSES 
 
 (For Aline) 
 
 HEN you shall die and to the sky 
 
 Serenely, delicately go, 
 Saint Peter, when he sees you there, 
 
 Will clash his keys and say : 
 "Now talk to her, Sir Christopher! 
 
 And hurry, Michelangelo ! 
 She wants to play at building, 
 And you've got to help her play!" 
 
 Every architect will help erect 
 
 A palace on a lawn of cloud, 
 With rainbow beams and a stmset roof, 
 
 And a level star-tiled floor; 
 And at your will you may use the skill 
 
 Of this gay angelic crowd. 
 When a house is made you will throw it down. 
 
 And they'll build you twenty more. 
 
 [26 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 HOUSES (continued) 
 
 For Christopher Wren and these other men 
 
 Who used to build on earth 
 Will love to go to work again 
 
 If they may work for you. 
 "This porch," you'll say, "should go this 
 way !" 
 
 And they'll work for all they're worth, 
 And they'll come to your palace every 
 morning. 
 
 And ask you what to do. 
 
 And when night comes down on Heaven-town 
 
 ^ (K there should be night up there) 
 
 You will choose the house you like the best 
 
 Of all that you can see : 
 And its walls will glow as you drowsily go 
 
 To the bed up the golden stair, 
 And I hope you'll be gentle enough to keep 
 
 A room in yovu: house for me. 
 
 27] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 IN MEMORY 
 
 QERENE and beautiful and very wise, 
 ^ Most erudite in curious Grecian lore, 
 
 You lay and read your learned books, and bore 
 A weight of unshed tears and silent sighs. 
 The song within your heart could never rise 
 
 Until love bade it spread its wings and soar. 
 
 Nor could you look on Beauty's face before 
 A poet's burning mouth had touched your eyes. 
 
 Love IS made out of ecstasy and wonder; 
 
 Love is a poignant and accustomed pain. 
 It is a burst of Heaven-shaking thunder; 
 
 It is a linnet's fluting after rain. 
 Love's voice is through your song; above and 
 imder 
 
 And in each note to echo and remain. 
 
 28] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 IN MEMORY (continued) 
 
 n 
 
 Because Mankind is glad and brave and young, 
 Full of gay flames that white and scarlet glow, 
 All joys and passions that Mankind may know 
 
 By you were nobly felt and nobly simg. 
 
 Because Mankind's heart every day is wrung 
 By Fate's wild hands that twist and tear it so. 
 Therefore you echoed Man's xmdying woe, 
 
 A harp Aeolian on Life's branches himg. 
 
 So did the ghosts of toiling children hover 
 About the piteous portals of your mind ; 
 
 Your eyes, that looked on glory, could discover 
 The angry scar to which the world was blind: 
 
 And it was grief that made Mankind your lover. 
 And it was grief that made you love Mankind. 
 
 29 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 IN MEMORY (continued) 
 
 m 
 
 Before Christ left the Citadel of Light, 
 To tread the dreadful way of human birth, 
 His shadow sometimes fell upon the earth 
 
 And those who saw it wept with joy and fright. 
 
 "Thou art Apollo, than the sim more bright !" 
 They cried. "Our music is of little worth. 
 But thrill our blood with thy creative mirth 
 
 Thou god of song, thou lord of lyric might!" 
 
 O singing pilgrim! who could love and follow 
 Your lover Christ, through even love's despair, 
 
 You knew within the C3rpress-darkened hollow 
 The feet that on the movmtain are so fair. 
 
 For it was Christ that was your own Apollo, 
 And thorns were in the laurel on your hair. 
 
 30 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 APOLOGY 
 
 (For Eleanor Rogers Cox) 
 
 T7OR blows on the fort of evil 
 -*■ That never shows a breach, 
 For terrible life-long races 
 
 To a goal no foot can reach, 
 For reckless leaps into darkness 
 
 With hands outstretched to a star. 
 There is jubilation in Heaven 
 
 Where the great dead poets are. 
 
 There is joy over disappointment 
 
 And delight in hopes that were vain. 
 Each poet is glad there was no cure 
 
 To stop his lonely pain. 
 For nothing keeps a poet 
 
 In his high singing mood 
 Like unappeasable himger 
 
 For unattainable food. 
 
 [31] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 APOLOGY (continued) 
 
 So fools are glad of the folly 
 
 That made them weep and sing, 
 And Keats is thankful for Fanny Brawne 
 
 And Drummond for his king. 
 They know that on flinty sorrow 
 
 And failure and desire 
 The steel of their souls was hammered 
 
 To bring forth the lyric fire. 
 
 Lord Byron and Shelley and Plimkett, 
 
 McDonough and Himt and Pearse 
 See now why their hatred of tyrants 
 
 Was so insistently fierce. 
 Is Freedom only a Will-o'-the-wisp 
 
 To cheat a poet's eye? 
 Be it phantom or fact, it's a noble cause 
 
 In which to sing and to die ! 
 
 So not for the Rainbow taken 
 And the magical White Bird snared 
 
 The poets sing grateful carols 
 In the place to which they have fared; 
 
 [32 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 APOLOGY (continued) 
 
 But for their lifetime's passion, 
 
 The quest that was fruitless and long, 
 
 They chorus their loud thanksgiving 
 To the thorn-crowned Master of Song. 
 
 33 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE PROUD POET 
 
 (For Shaemas O Sheel) 
 
 /^NE winter night a Devil came and sat upon 
 ^^ my bed, 
 His eyes were full of laughter for his heart was 
 full of crime. 
 "Why don't you take up fancy work, or embroi- 
 dery?" he said, 
 "For a needle is as manly a tool as a pen that 
 makes a rhyme !" 
 "You Httle ugly Devil," said I, "go back to Hell 
 
 For the idea you express I will not listen to : 
 I have trouble enough with poetry and poverty as 
 well, 
 Without having to pay attention to orators like 
 you. 
 
 "When you say of the making of ballads and 
 songs that it is woman's work 
 You forget all the fighting poets that have been 
 
 in every land. 
 
 _ 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE PROUD POET (continued) 
 
 There was Byron who left all his lady-loves to 
 fight against the Turk, 
 And David, the Singing King of the Jews, who 
 was bom with a sword in his hand. 
 It was yesterday that Rupert Brooke went out to 
 the Wars and died, 
 And Sir Phihp Sidney's lyric voice was as sweet 
 as his arm was strong; 
 And Sir Walter Raleigh met the axe as a lover 
 meets his bride. 
 Because he carried in his soul the courage of 
 his song. 
 
 "And there is no consolation so quickening to the 
 heart 
 As the warmth and whiteness that come from 
 the lines of noble poetry. 
 It is strong joy to read it when the woimds of the 
 spirit smart. 
 It puts the flame in a lonely breast where only 
 ashes be. 
 
 35 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE PROUD POET (continued) 
 
 It is strong joy to read it, and to make it is a 
 thing 
 That exalts a man with a sacreder pride than 
 any pride on earth. 
 For it makes him kneel to a broken slave and set 
 his foot on a king, 
 And it shakes the walls of his little soul with 
 the echo of God's mirth. 
 
 "There was the poet Homer had the sorrow to be 
 blind, 
 Yet a himdred people with good eyes wotild 
 listen to him all night; 
 For they took great enjoyment in the heaven of 
 his mind, 
 And were glad when the old blind poet let them 
 share his powers of sight. 
 And there was Heine lying on his mattress all day 
 long. 
 He had no wealth, he had no friends, he had no 
 joy at all, 
 
 [36] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE PROUD POET (continued) 
 
 Except to pour his sorrow into little cups of song, 
 And the world finds in them the magic wine 
 that his broken heart let fall. 
 
 "And these are only a couple of names from a list 
 of a thousand score 
 Who have put their glory on the world in poverty 
 and pain. 
 And the title of poet's a noble thing, worth living 
 and dying for, 
 Though all the devils on earth and in Hell spit 
 at me their disdain. 
 It is stem work, it is perilous work, to thrust your 
 hand in the sxm 
 And pull out a spark of immortal flame to warm 
 the hearts of men : 
 But Prometheus, torn by the claws and beaks 
 whose task is never done, 
 Would be tortured another eternity to go 
 stealing fire again." 
 
 37] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 LIONEL JOHNSON 
 
 (For the Rev. John J. Burke, C. S. P.) 
 
 ^T^HERE was a murkier tinge in London's air 
 As if the honest fog blushed black for shame. 
 Fools sang of sin, for other fools' acclaim, 
 
 And Milton's wreath was tossed to Baudelaire. 
 
 The flowers of evil blossomed everywhere, 
 But in their midst a radiant lily came 
 Candescent, pure, a cup of living flame, 
 
 Bloomed for a day, and left the earth more fair 
 
 And was it Charles, thy "fair and fatal King," 
 Who bade thee welcome to the lovely land? 
 
 Or did Lord David cease to harp and sing 
 To take in his thine emulative hand? 
 
 Or did Our Lady's smile shine forth, to bring 
 Her lyric Knight within her choir to stand? 
 
 [38] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 FATHER GERARD HOPKINS, S. J. 
 
 \\TJIY didst thou carve thy speech laboriously, 
 And match and blend thy words with 
 curious art? 
 For Song, one saith, is but a human heart 
 Speaking aloud, undisciplined and free. 
 Nay, God be praised, Who fixed thy task for thee 1 
 Austere, ecstatic craftsman, set apart 
 From all who traffic in Apollo's mart, 
 On thy phrased paten shall the Splendour be I 
 
 Now, carelessly we throw a rhyme to God, 
 Singing His praise when other songs are done. 
 
 But thou, who knewest paths Teresa trod. 
 Losing thyself, what is it thou hast won? 
 
 O bleeding feet, with peace and glory shod I 
 O happy moth, that flew into the Stm! 
 
 [39 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 T 
 
 GATES AND DOORS 
 
 (For Richardson Little Wright) 
 
 HERE was a gentle hostler 
 
 (And blessed be his name !) 
 He opened up the stable 
 
 The night Our Lady came. 
 Our Lady and Saint Joseph, 
 
 He gave them food and bed, 
 And Jesus Christ has given him 
 
 A glory round his head. 
 
 So let the gate swing open 
 
 However poor the yard, 
 Lest weary people visit you 
 
 And find their passage barred; 
 Unlatch the door at midnight 
 
 And let your lantern's glow 
 Shine out to guide the traveler's feet 
 
 To you across the snow. 
 
 40] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 GATES AND DOORS (continued) 
 
 There was a courteous hostler 
 
 (He is in Heaven to-night) 
 He held Our Lady's bridle 
 
 And helped her to alight; 
 He spread clean straw before her 
 
 Whereon she might lie down, 
 And Jesus Christ has given him 
 
 An everlasting crown. 
 
 Unlock the door this evening 
 
 And let your gate swing wide. 
 Let all who ask for shelter 
 
 Come speedily inside. 
 What if your yard be narrow? 
 
 What if your house be small? 
 There is a Guest is coming 
 
 Will glorify it all 
 
 There was a joyous hostler 
 Who knelt on Christmas mom 
 
 Beside the radiant manger 
 Wherein his Lord was bom. 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 GATES AND DOORS (continued) 
 
 His heart was full of laughter, 
 His soul was full of bliss 
 
 When Jesus, on His Mother's lap, 
 Gave him His hand to kiss. 
 
 Unbar your heart this evening 
 
 And keep no stranger out, 
 Take from your souVs great portal 
 
 The barrier of doubt. 
 To humble folk and weary 
 
 Give hearty welcoming, 
 Your breast shall be to-morrow 
 
 The cradle of a King. 
 
 42] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 A 
 
 THE ROBE OF CHRIST 
 
 (For Cecil Chesterton) 
 
 T the foot of the Cross on Calvary 
 
 Three soldiers sat and diced, 
 And one of them was the Devil 
 And he won the Robe of Christ. 
 
 When the Devil comes in his proper form 
 To the chamber where I dwell, 
 
 I know him and make the Sign of the Cross 
 Which drives him back to Hell. 
 
 And when he comes like a friendly man 
 
 And puts his hand in mine. 
 The fervour in his voice is not 
 
 From love or joy or wine. 
 
 And when he comes like a woman, 
 
 With lovely, smiling eyes. 
 Black dreams float over his golden head 
 
 Like a swarm of carrion flies. 
 
 43 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 THE ROBE OF CHRIST (continued) 
 
 Now many a million tortured souls 
 
 In his red halls there be : 
 Why does he spend his subtle craft 
 
 In htmting after me? 
 
 Kings, queens and crested warriors 
 Whose memory rings through time, 
 
 These are his prey, and what to him 
 Is this poor man of rhyme, 
 
 That he, with such laborious skill, 
 Should change from r51e to role, 
 
 Should daily act so many a part 
 To get my little soul? 
 
 Oh, he can be the forest, 
 
 And he can be the sim, 
 Or a buttercup, or an hour of rest 
 
 When the weary day is done. 
 
 I saw him through a thousand veils, 
 
 And has not this sufficed? 
 Now, must I look on the Devil robed 
 
 In the radiant Robe of Christ? 
 
 44 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE ROBE OF CHRIST (continued) 
 
 He comes, and his face is sad and mild, 
 With thorns his head is crowned; 
 
 There are great bleeding woxmds in his feet, 
 And in each hand a woimd. 
 
 How can I tell, who am a fool, 
 
 If this be Christ or no? 
 Those bleeding hands outstretched to me I 
 
 Those eyes that love me so ! 
 
 I see the Robe — I look — I hope — 
 
 I fear — but there is one 
 Who will direct my troubled mind; 
 
 Christ's Mother knows her Son. 
 
 O Mother of Good Counsel, lend 
 
 Intelligence to me ! 
 Encompass me with wisdom. 
 
 Thou Tower of Ivory ! 
 
 "This is the Man of Lies," she says, 
 
 "Disguised with fearful art : 
 He has the wounded hands and feet, 
 
 But not the woimded heart." 
 
 45] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE ROBE OF CHRIST (continued) 
 
 Beside the Cross on Calvary 
 
 She watched them as they diced. 
 
 She saw the Devil join the game 
 And win the Robe of Christ. 
 
 46 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE SINGING GIRL 
 
 (For the Rev. Edward F. Garesche, S. J.) 
 
 'T^HERE was a little maiden 
 In blue and silver drest, 
 She sang to God in Heaven 
 And God within her breast. 
 
 It flooded me with pleasure, 
 
 It pierced me like a sword, 
 When this yoxmg maiden sang: "My soul 
 
 Doth magnify the Lord." 
 
 The stars sing all together 
 
 And hear the angels sing, 
 But they said they had never heard 
 
 So beautiful a thing. 
 
 Saint Mary and Saint Joseph, 
 
 And Saint Elizabeth, 
 Pray for us poets now 
 
 And at the hoiu: of death. 
 
 47 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE ANNUNCIATION 
 
 (For Helen Parry Eden) 
 
 TTAIL Mary, full of grace," the Angel saith. 
 
 Owe Lady bows her head, and is ashamed; 
 She has a Bridegroom Who may not be named. 
 
 Her mortal flesh bears Him Who conquers death. 
 
 Now in the dust her spirit grovelleth; 
 Too bright a Svm before her eyes has flamed, 
 Too fair a herald joy too high proclaimed. 
 
 And human lips have trembled in God's breath. 
 
 O Mother-Maid, thou art ashamed to cover 
 With thy white self, whereon no stain can be, 
 
 Thy God, Who came from Heaven to be thy Lover, 
 Thy God, Who came from Heaven to dwell in 
 thee. 
 
 About thy head celestial legions hover, 
 Chanting the praise of thy humility. 
 
 48 1 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 ROSES 
 
 (For Katherine Bregy) 
 
 T WENT to gather roses and twine them in a 
 
 ring, 
 For I would make a posy, a posy for the King. 
 I got an hundred roses, the loveliest there be. 
 From the white rose vine and the pink rose bush 
 and from the red rose tree. 
 
 But when I took my posy and laid it at His feet 
 I found He had His roses a million times more 
 
 sweet. 
 There was a scarlet blossom upon each foot and 
 
 hand. 
 And a great pink rose bloomed from His side for 
 
 the healing of the land. 
 
 Now of this fair and awful King there is this 
 
 marvel told. 
 That He wears a crown of linked thorns instead 
 
 of one of gold. 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 ROSES (continued) 
 
 Where there are thorns are roses, and I saw a 
 
 line of red, 
 A little wreath of roses around His radiant head. 
 
 A red rose is His Sacred Heart, a white rose is 
 
 His face. 
 And His breath has turned the barren world to a 
 
 rich and flowery place. 
 He is the Rose of Sharon, His gardener am I, 
 And I shall drink His fragrance in Heaven when 
 
 Idle. 
 
 50] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE VISITATION 
 
 (For Louise Imogen Guiney) 
 
 'T^HERE is a wall of flesh before the eyes 
 '■' Of John, who yet perceives and hails his 
 King. 
 It is Our Lady's painful bliss to bring 
 Before mankind the Glory of the skies. 
 Her cousin feels her womb's sweet burden rise 
 And leap with joy, and she comes forth to sing. 
 With trembling mouth, her words of welcoming. 
 She knows her hidden God, and prophesies. 
 
 Saint John, pray for us, weary souls that tarry 
 Where life is withered by sin's deadly breath. 
 
 Pray for us, whom the dogs of Satan harry. 
 Saint John, Saint Anne, and Saint Elizabeth. 
 
 And, Mother Mary, give us Christ to carry 
 Within our hearts, that we may conquer death. 
 
 51] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 MULTIPLICATION 
 
 (For S. M. E.) 
 
 T TAKE my leave, with sorrow, of Him I love so 
 
 •*■ well; 
 
 I look my last upon His small and radiant prison- 
 cell; 
 
 O happy lamp! to serve Him with never ceasing 
 light! 
 
 happy flame ! to tremble forever in His sight ! 
 
 1 leave the holy quiet for the loudly human train, 
 And my heart that He has breathed upon is filled 
 
 with lonely pain. 
 
 King, O Friend, O Lover! What sorer grief 
 
 can be 
 In all the reddest depths of Hell than banishment 
 from Thee? 
 
 But from my window as I speed across the sleep- 
 ing land 
 
 1 see the towns and villages wherein His houses 
 
 stand. 
 
 [52] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 MULTIPLICATION (continued) 
 
 Above the roofs I see a cross outlined against the 
 
 night, 
 And I know that there my Lover dwells in His 
 
 sacramental might. 
 
 Dominions kneel before Him, and Powers kiss 
 
 His feet, 
 Yet for me He keeps His weary watch in the 
 
 turmoil of the street : 
 The King of Kings awaits me, wherever I may go, 
 O who am I that He should deign to love and 
 
 serve me so? 
 
 53 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THANKSGIVING 
 
 (For John Bunker) 
 
 ^T^HE roar of the world is in my ears. 
 
 Thank God for the roar of the world ! 
 Thank God for the mighty tide of fears 
 Against me always hurled ! 
 
 Thank God for the bitter and ceaseless strife, 
 And the sting of His chastening rod ! 
 
 Thank God for the stress and the pain of life, 
 And Oh, thank God for God! 
 
 [54] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE THORN 
 
 (For the Rev. Charles L. O'Donnell, C. S. C.) 
 
 'T'^HE garden of God is a radiant place, 
 "*• And every flower has a holy face : 
 
 Our Lady like a lily bends above the cloudy 
 sod, 
 
 But Saint Michael is the thorn on the rose- 
 bush of God. 
 
 David is the song upon God's lips, 
 And Our Lady is the goblet that He sips: 
 And GabriePs the breath of His command. 
 But Saint Michael is the sword in God's right 
 hand. 
 
 The Ivory Tower is fair to see. 
 
 And may her walls encompass me! 
 
 But when the Devil comes with the thunder 
 
 of his might. 
 Saint Michael, show me how to fight! 
 
 55] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE BIG TOP 
 
 ^npHE boom and blare of the big brass band is 
 cheering to my heart 
 And I like the smell of the trampled grass and 
 elephants and hay. 
 I take off my hat to the acrobat with his delicate, 
 strong art, 
 And the motley mirth of the chalk-faced clown 
 drives all my care away. 
 
 I wish I could feel as they must feel, these players 
 brave and fair. 
 Who nonchalantly juggle death before a staring 
 throng. 
 It must be fine to walk a line of silver in the air 
 And to cleave a himdred feet of space with a 
 gesture like a song. 
 
 Sir Henry Irving never knew a keener, sweeter 
 thrill 
 Than that which stirs the breast of him who 
 turns his painted face 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE BIG TOP (continued) 
 
 To the circling crowd who laugh aloud and clap 
 hands with a will 
 As a tribute to the clown who won the great 
 wheel-barrow race. 
 
 Now, one shall work in the living rock with a 
 mallet and a knife, 
 And another shall dance on a big white horse 
 that canters round a ring, 
 By another's hand shall colours stand in similitude 
 of life ; 
 And the hearts of the three shall be moved by 
 one mysterious high thing. 
 
 For the sculptor and the acrobat and the painter 
 are the same. 
 They know one hope, one fear, one pride, one 
 sorrow and one mirth. 
 And they take delight in the endless fight for the 
 fickle world's acclaim; 
 For they worship art above the clouds and 
 serve her on the earth. 
 
 57] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE BIG TOP (continued) 
 
 But you, who can build of the stubborn rock no 
 form of loveliness, 
 Who can never mingle the radiant hues to 
 make a wonder live. 
 Who can only show your little woe to the world in 
 a rhythmic dress — 
 What kind of a counterpart of you does the 
 three-ring circus give? 
 
 Well — ^here in the little side-show tent to-day 
 some people stand. 
 One is a giant, one a dwarf, and one has a 
 figured skin, 
 And each is scarred and seared and marred by 
 Fate's relentless hand, 
 And each one shows his grief for pay, with a 
 sort of pride therein. 
 
 You put your sorrow into rhyme and want the 
 world to look; 
 You sing the news of your ruined hope and 
 want the world to hear; 
 
 — 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE BIG TOP (continued) 
 
 Their woe is pent in a canvas tent and yours in a 
 printed book. 
 O, poet of the broken heart, salute your 
 brothers here ! 
 
 59 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH SPEAKS 
 
 IV/TY hands were stained with blood, my heart 
 
 was proud and cold, 
 My soul is black with shame . .". but I gave 
 
 Shakespeare gold. 
 So after aeons of flame, I may, by grace of God, 
 Rise up to kiss the dust that Shakespeare's feet 
 
 have trod. 
 
 60 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 MID-OCEAN IN WAR-TIME 
 
 (For My Mother) 
 
 ^T^HE fragile splendour of the level sea, 
 
 The moon's serene and silver-veiled face, 
 Make of this vessel an enchanted place 
 
 Full of white mirth and golden sorcery. 
 
 Now, for a time, shall careless laughter be 
 Blended with song, to lend song sweeter grace, 
 And the old stars, in their imending race, 
 
 Shall heed and envy yoimg hiunanity. 
 
 And yet to-night, a hundred leagues away. 
 These waters blush a strange and awful red. 
 
 Before the moon, a cloud obscenely grey 
 Rises from decks that crash with flying lead. 
 
 And these stars smile their immemorial way 
 On waves that shroud a thousand newly dead! 
 
 6i 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 IN MEMORY OF RUPERT BROOKE 
 
 TN alien earth, across a troubled sea, 
 
 His body lies that was so fair and young. 
 His mouth is stopped, with half his songs 
 unsung; 
 His arm is still, that struck to make men free. 
 But let no cloud of lamentation be 
 Where, on a warrior's grave, a lyre is himg. 
 We keep the echoes of his golden tongue, 
 We keep the vision of his chivalry. 
 
 So Israel's joy, the loveliest of kings. 
 
 Smote now his harp, and now the hostile horde. 
 To-day the starry roof of Heaven rings 
 
 With psalms a soldier made to praise his Lord; 
 And David rests beneath Eternal wings. 
 
 Song on his lips, and in his hand a sword. 
 
 62 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL 
 
 (For My Mother) 
 
 ^X^HE halls that were loud with the merry tread 
 of young and careless feet 
 Are still with a stillness that is too drear to 
 seem like holiday, 
 Ai;id never a gust of laughter breaks the calm of 
 the dreaming street 
 Or rises to shake the ivied walls and frighten 
 the doves away. 
 
 The dust is on book and on empty desk, and the 
 tennis-racquet and balls 
 Lie still in their lonely locker and wait for a 
 game that is never played. 
 And over the study and lecture-room and the 
 river and meadow falls 
 A stem peace, a strange peace, a peace that 
 War has made. 
 
 63 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL (continued) 
 
 For many a youthful shoulder now is gay with an 
 epaulet, 
 And the hand that was deft with a cricket-bat 
 is defter with a sword, 
 And some of the lads will laugh to-day where the 
 trench is red and wet. 
 And some will win on the bloody field the 
 accolade of the Lord. 
 
 They have taken their youth and mirth away 
 from the study and playing-ground 
 To a new school in an alien land beneath an 
 alien sky; 
 Out in the smoke and roar of the fight their 
 lessons and games are foimd, 
 And they who were learning how to live are 
 learning how to die. 
 
 And after the golden day has come and the war is 
 at an end, 
 A slab of bronze on the chapel wall will tell of 
 the noble dead. 
 
 64 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL (continued) 
 
 And every name on that radiant list will be the 
 name of a friend, 
 A name that shall through the centuries in 
 grateful prayers be said. 
 
 And there will be ghosts in the old school, brave 
 ghosts with laughing eyes. 
 On the field with a ghostly cricket-bat, by the 
 stream with a ghostly rod; 
 They will touch the hearts of the living with a 
 flame that sanctifies, 
 A flame that they took with strong yoimg hands 
 from the altar-fires of God. 
 
 65 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 EASTER WEEK 
 
 (In memory of Joseph Mary Plunkett) 
 ("Romantic Ireland's dead and gone, 
 Ifs with O'Leary in the grave.") 
 
 William Butler Yeats. 
 
 ""nOMANTIC Ireland's dead and gone, 
 
 It's with O'Leary in the grave." 
 Then, Yeats, what gave that Easter dawn 
 A hue so radiantly brave? 
 
 There was a rain of blood that day, 
 Red rain in gay blue April weather. 
 
 It blessed the earth till it gave birth 
 To valour thick as blooms of heather. 
 
 Romantic Ireland never dies ! 
 
 O'Leary lies in fertile groimd, 
 And songs and spears throughout the years 
 
 Rise up where patriot graves are foimd. 
 
 Immortal patriots newly dead 
 And ye that bled in bygone years, 
 
 What banners rise before your eyes? 
 What is the time that greets your ears? 
 
 feel 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 EASTER WEEK (continued) 
 
 The young Republic's banners smile 
 For many a mile where troops convene. 
 
 O'Connell Street is loudly sweet 
 With strains of Wearing of the Green. 
 
 The soil of Ireland throbs and glows 
 With life that knows the hour is here 
 
 To strike again like Irishmen 
 
 For that which Irishmen hold dear. 
 
 Lord Edward leaves his resting place 
 And Sarsfield's face is glad and fierce. 
 
 See Emmet leap from troubled sleep 
 To grasp the hand of Padraic Pearse! 
 
 There is no rope can strangle song 
 And not for long death takes his toll. 
 
 No prison bars can dim the stars 
 Nor quicklime eat the living soul. 
 
 Romantic Ireland is not old. 
 
 For years untold her youth will shine. 
 Her heart is fed on Heavenly bread, 
 
 The blood of martyrs is her wine. 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF RHEIMS 
 
 (From the French of Emile Verhaeren) 
 
 TTE who walks through the meadows of Cham- 
 pagne 
 
 At noon in Fall, when leaves like gold appear, 
 
 Sees it draw near 
 Like some great moimtain set upon the plain, 
 From radiant dawn imtil the close of day, 
 
 Nearer it grows 
 
 To him who goes 
 Across the cotmtry. When tall towers lay 
 
 Their shadowy pall 
 
 Upon his way, 
 
 He enters, where 
 The solid stone is hollowed deep by all 
 Its centuries of beauty and of prayer. 
 
 Ancient French temple ! thou whose hundred kings 
 Watch over thee, emblazoned on thy walls, 
 Tell me, within thy memory-hallowed halls 
 What chant of triimiph, or what war-song rings? 
 
 [68] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF RHEIMS (continued) 
 
 Thou hast known Clovis and his Prankish train, 
 
 Whose mighty hand Saint Remy^s hand did keep 
 
 And in thy spacious vault perhaps may sleep 
 
 An echo of the voice of Charlemagne. 
 
 For God thou has known fear, when from His side 
 
 Men wandered, seeking alien shrines and new, 
 
 But still the sky was bountiful and blue 
 
 And thou wast crowned with France's love and 
 
 pride. 
 Sacred thou art, from pinnacle to base ; 
 And in thy panes of gold and scarlet glass 
 The setting sun sees thousandfold his face ; 
 Sorrow and joy, in stately silence pass 
 Across thy walls, the shadow and the light; 
 Aroimd thy lofty pillars, tapers white 
 Illuminate, with dehcate sharp flames, 
 The brows of saints with venerable names, 
 And in the night erect a fiery wall. 
 A great but silent fervour bums in all 
 Those simple folk who kneel, pathetic, dumb, 
 And know that down below, beside the Rhine— 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF RHEIMS (continued) ^ 
 
 Cannon, horses, soldiers, flags in line — 
 With blare of trumpets, mighty armies come. 
 
 Suddenly, each knows fear; 
 
 Swift nmiours pass, that every one must hear, 
 
 The hostile banners blaze against the sky 
 
 And by the embassies mobs rage and cry. 
 
 Now war has come, and peace is at an end. 
 
 On Paris town the German troops descend. 
 
 They are turned back, and driven to Champagne. 
 
 And now, as to so many weary men. 
 
 The glorious temple gives them welcome, when 
 
 It meets them at the bottom of the plain. 
 
 At once, they set their cannon in its way. 
 
 There is no gable now, nor wall 
 That does not suffer, night and day. 
 
 As shot and shell in crushing torrents fall. 
 The stricken tocsin quivers through the tower; 
 
 The triple nave, the apse, the lonely choir 
 Are circled, hour by hour. 
 
 With thundering bands of fire 
 And Death is scattered broadcast among men. 
 
 [70] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF RHEIMS (continued) 
 
 And then 
 
 That which was splendid with baptismal grace; 
 
 The stately arches soaring into space, 
 
 The transepts, columns, windows gray and gold, 
 
 The organ, in whose tones the ocean rolled. 
 
 The crypts, of mighty shades the dwelling places, 
 
 The Virgin's gentle hands, the Saints' pure faces, 
 
 All, even the pardoning hands of Christ the Lord 
 
 Were struck and broken by the wanton sword 
 
 Of sacrilegious lust. 
 
 O beauty slain, O glory in the dust! 
 Strong walls of faith, most basely overthrown! 
 The crawling flames, like adders glistening 
 Ate the white fabric of this lovely thing. 
 Now from its soul arose a piteous moan, 
 The soul that always loved the just and fair. 
 Granite and marble loud their woe confessed, 
 The silver monstrances that Popes had blessed, 
 The chalices and lamps and crosiers rare 
 Were seared and twisted by a flaming breath; 
 The horror everywhere did range and swell, 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL OF RHEIMS (continued) 
 
 The guardian Saints into this furnace fell, 
 Their bitter tears and screams were stilled in 
 death. 
 
 Around the flames armed hosts are skirmishing, 
 The burning sun reflects the lurid scene ; 
 The German army, fighting for its life, 
 Rallies its torn and terrified left wing; 
 
 And, as they near this place 
 
 The imperial eagles see 
 
 Before them in their flight, 
 Here, in the solemn night. 
 The old cathedral, to the years to be 
 
 Showing, with wounded arms, their own 
 disgrace. 
 
 72 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 KINGS 
 
 (For the Rev. James B. DoIIard) 
 
 ^T^HE Kings of the earth are men of might, 
 And cities are burned for their delight, 
 And the skies rain death in the silent night, 
 And the hills belch death all day ! 
 
 But the King of Heaven, Who made them all. 
 Is fair and gentle, and very small; 
 He lies in the straw, by the oxen's stall — 
 Let them think of Him to-day! 
 
 73 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED 
 
 (For Alden March) 
 
 VI7ITH drooping sail and pennant 
 That never a wind may reach, 
 They float in sunless waters 
 
 Beside a sunless beach. 
 Their mighty masts and fimnels 
 
 Are white as driven snow, 
 And with a pallid radiance 
 Their ghostly bulwarks glow. 
 
 Here is a Spanish galleon 
 
 That once with gold was gay, 
 Here is a Roman trireme 
 
 Whose hues outshone the day. 
 But Tyrian dyes have faded, 
 
 And prows that once were bright 
 With rainbow stains wear only 
 
 Death's livid, dreadful white. 
 
 74 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 
 THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED (continued) 
 
 White as the ice that clove her 
 
 That unf orgotten day, 
 Among her pallid sisters 
 
 The grim Titanic lay. 
 And through the leagues above her 
 
 She looked aghast, and said : 
 "What is this Hving ship that comes 
 
 Where every ship is dead?" 
 
 The ghostly vessels trembled 
 
 From ruined stem to prow; 
 What was this thing of terror 
 
 That broke their vigil now? 
 Down through the startled ocean 
 
 A mighty vessel came, 
 Not white, as all dead ships must be, 
 
 But red, like living flame ! 
 
 The pale green waves about her 
 Were swiftly, strangely dyed. 
 
 By the great scarlet stream that flowed 
 From out her wotmded side. 
 
 [75] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED (continued) 
 
 And all her decks were scarlet 
 
 And all her shattered crew. 
 She sank among the white ghost ships 
 
 And stained them through and through. 
 
 The grim Titanic greeted her 
 
 "And who art thou?" she said; 
 ''Why dost thou join our ghostly fleet 
 
 Arrayed in living red? 
 We are the ships of sorrow 
 
 Who spend the weary night, 
 Until the dawn of Judgment Day, 
 
 Obscure and still and white." 
 
 "Nay," said the scarlet visitor, 
 
 "Though I sink through the sea, 
 A ruined thing that was a ship, 
 
 I sink not as did ye. 
 For ye met with your destiny 
 
 By storm or rock or fight. 
 So through the lagging centuries 
 
 Ye wear your robes of white. 
 
 [76] 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED (continued) 
 
 "But never crashing iceberg 
 
 Nor honest shot of foe, 
 Nor hidden reef has sent me 
 
 The way that I must go. 
 My wound that stains the waters, 
 
 My blood that is Uke flame, 
 Bear witness to a loathly deed, 
 
 A deed without a name. 
 
 "I went not forth to battle, 
 
 I carried friendly men, 
 The children played about my decks, 
 
 The women sang — and then — 
 And then — the sun blushed scarlet 
 
 And Heaven hid its face. 
 The world that God created 
 
 Became a shameful place ! 
 
 "My wrong cries out for vengeance. 
 The blow that sent me here 
 
 Was aimed in Hell. My dying scream 
 Has reached Jehovah's ear. 
 
 77 
 
MAIN STREET AND OTHER POEMS 
 THE WHITE SHIPS AND THE RED (continued) 
 
 Not all the seven oceans 
 Shall wash away that stain; 
 
 Upon a brow that wears a crown 
 I am the brand of Cain." 
 
 When God's great voice assembles 
 
 The fleet on Judgment Day, 
 The ghosts of ruined ships will rise 
 
 In sea and strait and bay. 
 Though they have lain for ages 
 
 Beneath the changeless flood, 
 They shall be white as silver, 
 
 But one — shall be like blood. 
 
 [78] 
 
 UJL19