NEW WARS FOR OLD

[For purposes of recognition at night a small squadron of Elizabethan ships, crossing the Atlantic, adopted as a watchword the sentence: Before the world—was God.]

They diced with Death. Their big sea-bootsWere greased with blood. They swept the seasFor England; and—we reap the fruitsOf their heroic deviltries!Our creed is in the cold machine,The inhuman devildoms of brain,The bolt that splits the midnight main,Loosed at a lever's touch; the leanTorpedo; "Twenty Miles of Power";The steel-clad Dreadnoughts' dark array!Yet ... we that keep the conning towerAre not so strong as theyWhose watchword we disdain.They laughed at odds for England's sake!We count, yet cast our strength away.One Admiral with the soul of DrakeWould break the fleets of hell to-day!Give us the splendid heavens of youth,Give us the banners of deathless flame,The ringing watchwords of their fame,The faith, the hope, the simple truth!Then shall the Deep indeed be swayedThrough all its boundless breadth and length,Nor this proud England lean dismayedOn twenty miles of strength,Or shrink from aught but shame.Pull out by night, O leave the shoreAnd lighted streets of Plymouth town,Pull out into the Deep once more!There, in the night of their renown,The same great waters roll their gloomAround our midget period;And the huge decks that Raleigh trodOver our petty darkness loom!Along the line the cry is passedFrom all their heaven-illumined spars,Clear as a bell, from mast to mast,It rings against the stars:Before the world—was God.

They laughed at odds for England's sake!We count, yet cast our strength away.One Admiral with the soul of DrakeWould break the fleets of hell to-day!Give us the splendid heavens of youth,Give us the banners of deathless flame,The ringing watchwords of their fame,The faith, the hope, the simple truth!Then shall the Deep indeed be swayedThrough all its boundless breadth and length,Nor this proud England lean dismayedOn twenty miles of strength,Or shrink from aught but shame.

Pull out by night, O leave the shoreAnd lighted streets of Plymouth town,Pull out into the Deep once more!There, in the night of their renown,The same great waters roll their gloomAround our midget period;And the huge decks that Raleigh trodOver our petty darkness loom!Along the line the cry is passedFrom all their heaven-illumined spars,Clear as a bell, from mast to mast,It rings against the stars:Before the world—was God.

"Peace with its luxury is the corrupter of Nations."Any militarist Journal.

"Peace with its luxury is the corrupter of Nations."

Any militarist Journal.

IPeace! When have we prayed for peace?Over us burns a starBright, beautiful, red for strife!Yours are only the drum and the fifeAnd the golden braid and the surface of life!Ours is the white-hot war!IIPeace? When have we prayed for peace?Ours are the weapons of men!Time changes the face of the world!Therefore your ancient flags are furled,And ours are the unseen legions hurledUp to the heights again!IIIPeace? When have we prayed for peace?Is there no wrong to right?Wrong crying to God on highHere where the weak and the helpless die,And the homeless hordes of the city go by,The ranks are rallied to-night!IVPeace? When have we prayed for peace?Are ye so dazed with words?Earth, heaven, shall pass awayEre for your passionless peace we pray!Are ye deaf to the trumpets that call us to-day,Blind to the blazing swords?

Peace! When have we prayed for peace?Over us burns a starBright, beautiful, red for strife!Yours are only the drum and the fifeAnd the golden braid and the surface of life!Ours is the white-hot war!

Peace? When have we prayed for peace?Ours are the weapons of men!Time changes the face of the world!Therefore your ancient flags are furled,And ours are the unseen legions hurledUp to the heights again!

III

Peace? When have we prayed for peace?Is there no wrong to right?Wrong crying to God on highHere where the weak and the helpless die,And the homeless hordes of the city go by,The ranks are rallied to-night!

Peace? When have we prayed for peace?Are ye so dazed with words?Earth, heaven, shall pass awayEre for your passionless peace we pray!Are ye deaf to the trumpets that call us to-day,Blind to the blazing swords?

"Unless public opinion can rise to the height of discussing the substitution of law for force as a great world-movement, the American arbitration proposals cannot be carried out."Sir Edward Grey.

"Unless public opinion can rise to the height of discussing the substitution of law for force as a great world-movement, the American arbitration proposals cannot be carried out."

Sir Edward Grey.

IDare we—though our hope deferredLeft us faithless long ago—Dare we let our hearts be stirred,Lift them to the light andknow,Cast away our cynic shields,Break the sword that Mockery wields,Knowthat Truth indeed prevails,And that Justice holds the scales?Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!IIDare we know that this great hour,Dawning on thy long renown,Marks the purpose of thy power,Crowns thee with a mightier crown,Know that to this purpose climbAll the blood-red wars of Time?If indeed thouhasta goalBeaconing to thy warrior soul,Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!IIIDare we know what every ageWrites with an unerring hand,Read the midnight's moving page,Read the stars and understand,—Out of Chaos ye shall drawLinked harmonies of Law,Till around the Eternal SunAll your peoples move in one?Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!IVDare we know that wearied eyesDimmed with dust of every dayCan, once more, desire the skiesAnd the glorious upward way?Dare we, if the Truth should stillVex with doubt our alien will,Take it to our Maker's throne,Let Him speak with us alone?Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!VDare we cast our pride away?Dare we tread where Lincoln trod?All the Future, by this day,Waits to judge us and our God!Set the struggling peoples free!Crown with Law their Liberty!Proud with an immortal pride,Kneel we at our Sister's side!Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!

Dare we—though our hope deferredLeft us faithless long ago—Dare we let our hearts be stirred,Lift them to the light andknow,Cast away our cynic shields,Break the sword that Mockery wields,Knowthat Truth indeed prevails,And that Justice holds the scales?Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!

Dare we know that this great hour,Dawning on thy long renown,Marks the purpose of thy power,Crowns thee with a mightier crown,Know that to this purpose climbAll the blood-red wars of Time?If indeed thouhasta goalBeaconing to thy warrior soul,Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!

III

Dare we know what every ageWrites with an unerring hand,Read the midnight's moving page,Read the stars and understand,—Out of Chaos ye shall drawLinked harmonies of Law,Till around the Eternal SunAll your peoples move in one?Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!

Dare we know that wearied eyesDimmed with dust of every dayCan, once more, desire the skiesAnd the glorious upward way?Dare we, if the Truth should stillVex with doubt our alien will,Take it to our Maker's throne,Let Him speak with us alone?Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!

Dare we cast our pride away?Dare we tread where Lincoln trod?All the Future, by this day,Waits to judge us and our God!Set the struggling peoples free!Crown with Law their Liberty!Proud with an immortal pride,Kneel we at our Sister's side!Britain, kneel!Kneel, Imperial Commonweal!

(Written during a European war crisis)

Not as one muttering in a spell-bound sleepShall England speak the word;Not idly bid the embattled lightnings leap,Nor lightly draw the sword!Let statesmen grope by night in a blind dream,The cold clear morning starShould like a trophy in her helmet gleamWhen England sweeps to war!Not like a derelict, drunk with surf and spray,And drifting down to doom;But like the Sun-god calling up the dayShould England rend that gloom.Not as in trance, at some hypnotic call,Nor with a doubtful cry;But a clear faith, like a banner above us all,Rolling from sky to sky.She sheds no blood to that vain god of strifeWhom striplings call "renown";She knows that only they who reverence lifeCan nobly lay it down;And these will ride from child and home and love,Through death and hell that day;But O, her faith, her flag, must burn above,Her soul must lead the way!

Not as one muttering in a spell-bound sleepShall England speak the word;Not idly bid the embattled lightnings leap,Nor lightly draw the sword!

Let statesmen grope by night in a blind dream,The cold clear morning starShould like a trophy in her helmet gleamWhen England sweeps to war!

Not like a derelict, drunk with surf and spray,And drifting down to doom;But like the Sun-god calling up the dayShould England rend that gloom.

Not as in trance, at some hypnotic call,Nor with a doubtful cry;But a clear faith, like a banner above us all,Rolling from sky to sky.

She sheds no blood to that vain god of strifeWhom striplings call "renown";She knows that only they who reverence lifeCan nobly lay it down;

And these will ride from child and home and love,Through death and hell that day;But O, her faith, her flag, must burn above,Her soul must lead the way!

Yes—"on our brows we feel the breathOf dawn," though in the night we wait!An arrow is in the heart of Death,A God is at the doors of Fate!The spirit that moved upon the DeepIs moving through the minds of men:The nations feel it in their sleep,A change has touched their dreams again.Voices, confused, and faint, arise,Troubling their hearts from East and West.A doubtful light is in their skies,A gleam that will not let them rest:The dawn, the dawn is on the wing,The stir of change on every side,Unsignalled as the approach of Spring,Invincible as the hawthorn-tide.Have ye not heard it, far and nigh,The voice of France across the dark,And all the Atlantic with one cryBeating the shores of Europe?—hark!Then—if ye will—uplift your wordOf cynic wisdom! Once againTell us He came to bring a sword,Tell us He lived and died in vain.Say that we dream! Our dreams have wovenTruths that out-face the burning sun:The lightnings, that we dreamed, have clovenTime, space, and linked all lands in one!Dreams! But their swift celestial fingersHave knit the world with threads of steel,Till no remotest island lingersBeyond the world's one Commonweal.Tell us that custom, sloth, and fearAre strong, then name them "common-sense"!Tell us that greed rules everywhere,Then dub the lie "experience":Year after year, age after age,Has handed down, thro' fool and child,For earth's divinest heritageThe dreams whereon old wisdom smiled.Dreams are they? But ye cannot stay them,Or thrust the dawn back for one hour!Truth, Love, and Justice, if ye slay them,Return with more than earthly power:Strive, if ye will, to seal the fountainsThat send the Spring thro' leaf and spray:Drive back the sun from the Eastern mountains,Then—bid this mightier movement stay.It is the Dawn of Peace! The nationsFrom East to West have heard a cry,—"Through all earth's blood-red generationsBy hate and slaughter climbed thus high,Here—on this height—still to aspire,One only path remains untrod,One path of love and peace climbs higher!Make straight that highway for our God."

Voices, confused, and faint, arise,Troubling their hearts from East and West.A doubtful light is in their skies,A gleam that will not let them rest:The dawn, the dawn is on the wing,The stir of change on every side,Unsignalled as the approach of Spring,Invincible as the hawthorn-tide.

Have ye not heard it, far and nigh,The voice of France across the dark,And all the Atlantic with one cryBeating the shores of Europe?—hark!Then—if ye will—uplift your wordOf cynic wisdom! Once againTell us He came to bring a sword,Tell us He lived and died in vain.

Say that we dream! Our dreams have wovenTruths that out-face the burning sun:The lightnings, that we dreamed, have clovenTime, space, and linked all lands in one!Dreams! But their swift celestial fingersHave knit the world with threads of steel,Till no remotest island lingersBeyond the world's one Commonweal.

Tell us that custom, sloth, and fearAre strong, then name them "common-sense"!Tell us that greed rules everywhere,Then dub the lie "experience":Year after year, age after age,Has handed down, thro' fool and child,For earth's divinest heritageThe dreams whereon old wisdom smiled.

Dreams are they? But ye cannot stay them,Or thrust the dawn back for one hour!Truth, Love, and Justice, if ye slay them,Return with more than earthly power:Strive, if ye will, to seal the fountainsThat send the Spring thro' leaf and spray:Drive back the sun from the Eastern mountains,Then—bid this mightier movement stay.

It is the Dawn of Peace! The nationsFrom East to West have heard a cry,—"Through all earth's blood-red generationsBy hate and slaughter climbed thus high,Here—on this height—still to aspire,One only path remains untrod,One path of love and peace climbs higher!Make straight that highway for our God."

Like fallen stars the watch-fires gleamedAlong our menaced age that night!Our bivouacked century tossed and dreamedOf battle with the approaching light.Rumors of change, a sea-like roar,Shook the firm earth with doubt and dread:The clouds, in rushing legions boreTheir tattered eagles overhead.I saw the muffled sentries restOn the dark hills of Time. I sawAround them march from East to WestThe stars of the unresting law.I knew that in their mighty courseThey brought the dawn, they brought the day;And that the unconquerable forceOf the new years was on the way.I heard the feet of that great throng!I saw them shine, like hope, afar!Their shout, their shout was like a song,And O, 'twas not a song of war!Yet, as the whole world with their trampQuivered, a signal-lightning spoke,A bugle warned our darkling camp,And, like a thunder-cloud, it woke.Our searchlights raked the world's wide ends.O'er the dark hills a grey light crept.Down, through the light, that host of friendsWe took for foemen, triumphing swept.The old century could not hear their cry,How should it hear the song they sang?We bring good news!It pierced the sky!We bring good news!The welkin rang.One shout of triumph and of faith;And then—our shattering cannon roared!But, over the reeking ranks of death,The song rose like a single sword.We bring good news!Red flared the guns!We bring good news!The sabres flashed!And the dark age with its own sonsIn blind and furious battle clashed.A swift, a terrible bugle pealed.The sulphurous clouds were rolled away.Embraced, embraced, on that red field,The wounded and the dying lay.We bring good news!Blood choked the word,—We knew you not; so dark the night!—O father, was I worth your sword?O son, O herald of the light!We bring good news!—The darkness fillsMine eyes!—Nay, the night ebbs away!And, over the everlasting hills,The great new dawn led on the day.

Like fallen stars the watch-fires gleamedAlong our menaced age that night!Our bivouacked century tossed and dreamedOf battle with the approaching light.

Rumors of change, a sea-like roar,Shook the firm earth with doubt and dread:The clouds, in rushing legions boreTheir tattered eagles overhead.

I saw the muffled sentries restOn the dark hills of Time. I sawAround them march from East to WestThe stars of the unresting law.

I knew that in their mighty courseThey brought the dawn, they brought the day;And that the unconquerable forceOf the new years was on the way.

I heard the feet of that great throng!I saw them shine, like hope, afar!Their shout, their shout was like a song,And O, 'twas not a song of war!

Yet, as the whole world with their trampQuivered, a signal-lightning spoke,A bugle warned our darkling camp,And, like a thunder-cloud, it woke.

Our searchlights raked the world's wide ends.O'er the dark hills a grey light crept.Down, through the light, that host of friendsWe took for foemen, triumphing swept.

The old century could not hear their cry,How should it hear the song they sang?We bring good news!It pierced the sky!We bring good news!The welkin rang.

One shout of triumph and of faith;And then—our shattering cannon roared!But, over the reeking ranks of death,The song rose like a single sword.

We bring good news!Red flared the guns!We bring good news!The sabres flashed!And the dark age with its own sonsIn blind and furious battle clashed.

A swift, a terrible bugle pealed.The sulphurous clouds were rolled away.Embraced, embraced, on that red field,The wounded and the dying lay.

We bring good news!Blood choked the word,—We knew you not; so dark the night!—O father, was I worth your sword?O son, O herald of the light!

We bring good news!—The darkness fillsMine eyes!—Nay, the night ebbs away!And, over the everlasting hills,The great new dawn led on the day.

(A few months after the Milton Ter-centenary.)

IThe crowd has passed away,Faded the feast, and most forget!Master, we come with lowly hearts to payOur deeper debt.IIHigh they upheld the wine,And royally, royally drank to thee!Loud were their plaudits. Now the lonely shrineAccepts our knee.IIIAll dark and silent now!Master, thy few are faithful still,And nightly hear thy brooks that warbling flowBy Siloa's hill.

The crowd has passed away,Faded the feast, and most forget!Master, we come with lowly hearts to payOur deeper debt.

High they upheld the wine,And royally, royally drank to thee!Loud were their plaudits. Now the lonely shrineAccepts our knee.

III

All dark and silent now!Master, thy few are faithful still,And nightly hear thy brooks that warbling flowBy Siloa's hill.

(AFTER THE FRENCH OF VERLAINE)

The sky is blue above the roof,So calm, so blue;One rustling bough above the roofRocks, the noon through.The bell-tower in the sky, aloof,Tenderly rings!A bird upon the bough, aloof,Sorrows and sings.My God, my God, and life is hereSo simple and still!Far off, the murmuring town I hearAt the wind's will....What hast thou done, thou, weeping there?O quick, the truth!What hast thou done, thou, weeping there,With thy lost youth?

The sky is blue above the roof,So calm, so blue;One rustling bough above the roofRocks, the noon through.

The bell-tower in the sky, aloof,Tenderly rings!A bird upon the bough, aloof,Sorrows and sings.

My God, my God, and life is hereSo simple and still!Far off, the murmuring town I hearAt the wind's will....

What hast thou done, thou, weeping there?O quick, the truth!What hast thou done, thou, weeping there,With thy lost youth?

O warm blue sky and dazzling sea,Where have you hid my friend from me?The white-chalk coast, the leagues of surfLaugh to the May-light, now as then,And violets in the short sweet turfMake fragmentary heavens again,And sea-born wings of rustling snowPass and re-pass as long ago.Old friend, do you remember yetThe days when secretly we metIn that old harbor years a-back,Where I admired your billowing walk,Or in that perilous fishing smackWhat tarry oaths perfumed your talk,The sails we set, the ropes we spliced,The raw potato that we sliced,For mackerel-bait—and how it shinesFar down, at end of the taut lines!—And the great catch we made that day,Loading our boat with rainbows, quickAnd quivering, while you smoked your clayAnd I took home your "Deadwood Dick"In yellow and red, when day was doneAnd you took home my Stevenson?Not leagues, as when you sailed the deep,But only some frail bars of sleepSever us now! Methinks you stillRecall, as I, in dreams, the quay,The little port below the hill:And all the changes of the sea,Like some great music, can but rollOur lives still nearer to the goal.

Old friend, do you remember yetThe days when secretly we metIn that old harbor years a-back,Where I admired your billowing walk,Or in that perilous fishing smackWhat tarry oaths perfumed your talk,The sails we set, the ropes we spliced,The raw potato that we sliced,

For mackerel-bait—and how it shinesFar down, at end of the taut lines!—And the great catch we made that day,

Loading our boat with rainbows, quickAnd quivering, while you smoked your clayAnd I took home your "Deadwood Dick"In yellow and red, when day was doneAnd you took home my Stevenson?

Not leagues, as when you sailed the deep,But only some frail bars of sleepSever us now! Methinks you stillRecall, as I, in dreams, the quay,The little port below the hill:And all the changes of the sea,Like some great music, can but rollOur lives still nearer to the goal.

Our Lady of the TwilightFrom out the sunset-landsComes gently stealing o'er the worldAnd stretches out her hands,Over the blotched and broken wall,The blind and fœtid lane,She stretches out her hands and allIs beautiful again.No factory chimneys can defileThe beauty of her dress:She stoops down with her heavenly smileTo heal and love and bless:All tortured things, all evil powers,All shapes of dark distressAre turned to fragrance and to flowersBeneath her kind caress.Our Lady of the Twilight,She melts our prison-bars!She makes the sea forget the shore,She fills the sky with stars,And stooping over wharf and mill,Chimney and shed and dome,Turns them to fairy palaces,Then calls her children home.She stoops to bless the stunted tree,And from the furrowed plain,And from the wrinkled brow she smoothsThe lines of care and pain:Hers are the gentle hands and eyesAnd hers the peaceful breathThat ope, in sunset-softened skies,The quiet gates of death.Our Lady of the Twilight,She hath such gentle hands,So lovely are the gifts she bringsFrom out the sunset-lands,So bountiful, so mercifulSo sweet of soul is she;And over all the world she drawsHer cloak of charity.

No factory chimneys can defileThe beauty of her dress:She stoops down with her heavenly smileTo heal and love and bless:All tortured things, all evil powers,All shapes of dark distressAre turned to fragrance and to flowersBeneath her kind caress.

Our Lady of the Twilight,She melts our prison-bars!She makes the sea forget the shore,She fills the sky with stars,And stooping over wharf and mill,Chimney and shed and dome,Turns them to fairy palaces,Then calls her children home.

She stoops to bless the stunted tree,And from the furrowed plain,And from the wrinkled brow she smoothsThe lines of care and pain:Hers are the gentle hands and eyesAnd hers the peaceful breathThat ope, in sunset-softened skies,The quiet gates of death.

Our Lady of the Twilight,She hath such gentle hands,So lovely are the gifts she bringsFrom out the sunset-lands,So bountiful, so mercifulSo sweet of soul is she;And over all the world she drawsHer cloak of charity.

"I will lift up mine eyes to the hills"

IMoving through the dew, moving through the dew,Ere I waken in the city—Life, thy dawn makes all things new!And up a fir-clad glen, far from all the haunts of men,Up a glen among the mountains, oh my feet are wings again!Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,O mountains of my boyhood, I come again to you,By the little path I know, with the sea far below,And above, the great cloud-galleons with their sails of rose and snow;As of old, when all was young, and the earth a song unsungAnd the heather through the crimson dawn its Eden incense flungFrom the mountain-heights of joy, for a careless-hearted boy,And the lavrocks rose like fountain sprays of bliss that ne'er could cloy,From their little beds of bloom, from the golden gorse and broom,With a song to God the Giver, o'er that waste of wild perfume;Blowing from height to height, in a glory of great light,While the cottage-clustered valleys held the lilac last of night,So, when dawn is in the skies, in a dream, a dream, I rise,And I follow my lost boyhood to the heights of Paradise.Life, thy dawn makes all things new! Hills of Youth, I come to you,Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.IIMoving through the dew, moving through the dew,Floats a brother's face to meet me! Is it you? Is it you?For the night I leave behind keeps these dazzled eyes still blind!But oh, the little hill-flowers, their scent is wise and kind;And I shall not lose the way from the darkness to the day,While dust can cling as their scent clings to memory for aye;And the least link in the chain can recall the whole again,And heaven at last resume its far-flung harvests, grain by grain.To the hill-flowers clings my dust, and tho' eyeless Death may thrustAll else into the darkness, in their heaven I put my trust;And a dawn shall bid me climb to the little spread of thymeWhere first I heard the ripple of the fountain-heads of rhyme.And a fir-wood that I know, from dawn to sunset-glow,Shall whisper to a lonely sea, that swings far, far below.Death, thy dawn makes all things new. Hills of Youth, I come to you,Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.

Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,Ere I waken in the city—Life, thy dawn makes all things new!And up a fir-clad glen, far from all the haunts of men,Up a glen among the mountains, oh my feet are wings again!

Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,O mountains of my boyhood, I come again to you,By the little path I know, with the sea far below,And above, the great cloud-galleons with their sails of rose and snow;

As of old, when all was young, and the earth a song unsungAnd the heather through the crimson dawn its Eden incense flungFrom the mountain-heights of joy, for a careless-hearted boy,And the lavrocks rose like fountain sprays of bliss that ne'er could cloy,

From their little beds of bloom, from the golden gorse and broom,With a song to God the Giver, o'er that waste of wild perfume;Blowing from height to height, in a glory of great light,While the cottage-clustered valleys held the lilac last of night,

So, when dawn is in the skies, in a dream, a dream, I rise,And I follow my lost boyhood to the heights of Paradise.Life, thy dawn makes all things new! Hills of Youth, I come to you,Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.

Moving through the dew, moving through the dew,Floats a brother's face to meet me! Is it you? Is it you?For the night I leave behind keeps these dazzled eyes still blind!But oh, the little hill-flowers, their scent is wise and kind;

And I shall not lose the way from the darkness to the day,While dust can cling as their scent clings to memory for aye;And the least link in the chain can recall the whole again,And heaven at last resume its far-flung harvests, grain by grain.

To the hill-flowers clings my dust, and tho' eyeless Death may thrustAll else into the darkness, in their heaven I put my trust;And a dawn shall bid me climb to the little spread of thymeWhere first I heard the ripple of the fountain-heads of rhyme.

And a fir-wood that I know, from dawn to sunset-glow,Shall whisper to a lonely sea, that swings far, far below.Death, thy dawn makes all things new. Hills of Youth, I come to you,Moving through the dew, moving through the dew.

Quoth the Fir-tree, "Orange and vine"Sing 'Nowell, Nowell, Nowell'!"Have their honour: I have mine!"In Excelsis Gloria!"I am kin to the great king's house,"Ring 'Nowell, Nowell, Nowell'!"And Lebanon whispers in my boughs."In Excelsis Gloria!Apple and cherry, pear and plum,Winds of Autumn, sigh 'Nowell'!All the trees like mages comeBending low with 'Gloria'!Holding out on every handSummer pilgrims to Nowell!Gorgeous gifts from Elfin-land.And the May saith 'Gloria'!Out of the darkness—who shall sayGold and myrrh for this Nowell!How they win their wizard way?Out of the East with 'Gloria'!Men that eat of the sun and dewAngels laugh and sing, 'Nowell.'Call it "fruit," and say it "grew"!Into the West with 'Gloria'!"Leaves that fall," whispered the FirThrough the forest sing 'Nowell'!"I am winter's minister."In Excelsis Gloria!Summer friends may come and go,Up the mountain sing 'Nowell.'Love abides thro' storm and snow.Down the valley, 'Gloria'!"On my boughs, on mine on mine,"Father and mother, sing 'Nowell'!"All the fruits of the earth shall twine."Bending low with 'Gloria.'"Sword of wood and doll of wax"Little children, sing 'Nowell.'"Swing on the stem was cleft with the axe!"Craftsmen all, a 'Gloria.'"Hear! I have looked on the other side."Out of the East, O sing 'Nowell'!"Because to live this night I died!"Into the West with 'Gloria.'"Hear! In this lighted room I have found"Ye that seek, O sing 'Nowell'!"The spell that worketh underground."Ye that doubt, a 'Gloria.'"I have found it, even I,"Ye that are lowly, sing 'Nowell'!"The secret of this alchemy!"Ye that are poor, a 'Gloria.'"Look, your tinsel turneth to gold."Sing 'Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!'"Your dust to a hand for love to hold!"In Excelsis Gloria."Lay the axe at my young stem now!"Woodman, woodman, sing 'Nowell.'"Set a star on every bough!"In Excelsis Gloria!"Hall and cot shall see me stand,"Rich and poor man, sing 'Nowell'!"Giver of gifts from Elfin-land."Oberon, answer 'Gloria.'"Hung by the hilt on your Christmas-tree"Little children, sing 'Nowell'!"Your wooden sword is a cross for me."Emperors, a 'Gloria.'"I have found that fabulous stone"Ocean-worthies, cry 'Nowell.'"Which turneth all things into one,"Wise men all, a 'Gloria.'"It is not ruby nor anything"Jeweller, jeweller, sing 'Nowell'!"Fit for the crown of an earthly King:"In Excelsis Gloria!"It is not here! It is not there!"Traveller, rest and cry 'Nowell'!"It is one thing and everywhere!"Heaven and Earth sing 'Gloria.'"It is the earth, the moon, the sun,"Mote in the sunbeam, sing 'Nowell'!"And all the stars that march as one."In Excelsis Gloria!"Here, by the touch of it, I can see"Sing, O Life, a sweet Nowell!"The world's King die on a Christmas-tree."Answer, Death, with 'Gloria.'"Here, not set in a realm apart,"East and West are one 'Nowell'!"Holy Land is in your Heart!"North and South one 'Gloria'!"Death is a birth, birth is a death,"Love is all, O sing 'Nowell'!"And London one with Nazareth."And all the World a 'Gloria.'"And angels over your heart's roof sing"Birds of God, O pour 'Nowell'!"That a poor man's son is the Son of a King!"Out of your heart this 'Gloria'!"Round the world you'll not away"In your own soul, they sing 'Nowell'!"From Holy Land this Christmas Day!"In your own soul, this 'Gloria.'

Apple and cherry, pear and plum,Winds of Autumn, sigh 'Nowell'!All the trees like mages comeBending low with 'Gloria'!Holding out on every handSummer pilgrims to Nowell!Gorgeous gifts from Elfin-land.And the May saith 'Gloria'!

Out of the darkness—who shall sayGold and myrrh for this Nowell!How they win their wizard way?Out of the East with 'Gloria'!Men that eat of the sun and dewAngels laugh and sing, 'Nowell.'Call it "fruit," and say it "grew"!Into the West with 'Gloria'!

"Leaves that fall," whispered the FirThrough the forest sing 'Nowell'!"I am winter's minister."In Excelsis Gloria!Summer friends may come and go,Up the mountain sing 'Nowell.'Love abides thro' storm and snow.Down the valley, 'Gloria'!

"On my boughs, on mine on mine,"Father and mother, sing 'Nowell'!"All the fruits of the earth shall twine."Bending low with 'Gloria.'"Sword of wood and doll of wax"Little children, sing 'Nowell.'"Swing on the stem was cleft with the axe!"Craftsmen all, a 'Gloria.'

"Hear! I have looked on the other side."Out of the East, O sing 'Nowell'!"Because to live this night I died!"Into the West with 'Gloria.'"Hear! In this lighted room I have found"Ye that seek, O sing 'Nowell'!"The spell that worketh underground."Ye that doubt, a 'Gloria.'

"I have found it, even I,"Ye that are lowly, sing 'Nowell'!"The secret of this alchemy!"Ye that are poor, a 'Gloria.'"Look, your tinsel turneth to gold."Sing 'Nowell! Nowell! Nowell!'"Your dust to a hand for love to hold!"In Excelsis Gloria.

"Lay the axe at my young stem now!"Woodman, woodman, sing 'Nowell.'"Set a star on every bough!"In Excelsis Gloria!"Hall and cot shall see me stand,"Rich and poor man, sing 'Nowell'!"Giver of gifts from Elfin-land."Oberon, answer 'Gloria.'

"Hung by the hilt on your Christmas-tree"Little children, sing 'Nowell'!"Your wooden sword is a cross for me."Emperors, a 'Gloria.'"I have found that fabulous stone"Ocean-worthies, cry 'Nowell.'"Which turneth all things into one,"Wise men all, a 'Gloria.'

"It is not ruby nor anything"Jeweller, jeweller, sing 'Nowell'!"Fit for the crown of an earthly King:"In Excelsis Gloria!"It is not here! It is not there!"Traveller, rest and cry 'Nowell'!"It is one thing and everywhere!"Heaven and Earth sing 'Gloria.'

"It is the earth, the moon, the sun,"Mote in the sunbeam, sing 'Nowell'!"And all the stars that march as one."In Excelsis Gloria!"Here, by the touch of it, I can see"Sing, O Life, a sweet Nowell!"The world's King die on a Christmas-tree."Answer, Death, with 'Gloria.'

"Here, not set in a realm apart,"East and West are one 'Nowell'!"Holy Land is in your Heart!"North and South one 'Gloria'!"Death is a birth, birth is a death,"Love is all, O sing 'Nowell'!"And London one with Nazareth."And all the World a 'Gloria.'

"And angels over your heart's roof sing"Birds of God, O pour 'Nowell'!"That a poor man's son is the Son of a King!"Out of your heart this 'Gloria'!"Round the world you'll not away"In your own soul, they sing 'Nowell'!"From Holy Land this Christmas Day!"In your own soul, this 'Gloria.'

Lavender, lavenderThat makes your linen sweet;The hawker brings his basketDown the sooty street:The dirty doors and pavementsAre simmering in the heat:He brings a dream to London,And drags his weary feet.Lavender, lavender,From where the bee hums,To the loud roar of London,With purple dreams he comes,From raggèd lanes of wild-flowersTo raggèd London slums,With a basket full of lavenderAnd purple dreams he comes.Is it nought to you that hear him?With the old strange cryThe weary hawker passes,And some will come and buy,And some will let him pass awayAnd only heave a sigh,But most will neither heed nor hearWhen dreams go by.Lavender, lavender!His songs were fair and sweet,He brought us harvests out of heaven,Full sheaves of radiant wheat;He brought us keys to Paradise,And hawked them thro' the street;He brought his dreams to London,And dragged his weary feet.Lavender, lavender!He is gone. The sunset glows;But through the brain of LondonThe mystic fragrance flows.Each foggy cell remembers,Each raggèd alley knows,The land he left behind him,The land to which he goes.

Lavender, lavender,From where the bee hums,To the loud roar of London,With purple dreams he comes,From raggèd lanes of wild-flowersTo raggèd London slums,With a basket full of lavenderAnd purple dreams he comes.

Is it nought to you that hear him?With the old strange cryThe weary hawker passes,And some will come and buy,And some will let him pass awayAnd only heave a sigh,But most will neither heed nor hearWhen dreams go by.

Lavender, lavender!His songs were fair and sweet,He brought us harvests out of heaven,Full sheaves of radiant wheat;He brought us keys to Paradise,And hawked them thro' the street;He brought his dreams to London,And dragged his weary feet.

Lavender, lavender!He is gone. The sunset glows;But through the brain of LondonThe mystic fragrance flows.Each foggy cell remembers,Each raggèd alley knows,The land he left behind him,The land to which he goes.

Back to Index Next