The Project Gutenberg eBook ofSonnets and PoemsThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Sonnets and PoemsAuthor: Eleanor FarjeonRelease date: December 24, 2017 [eBook #56244]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS AND POEMS ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Sonnets and PoemsAuthor: Eleanor FarjeonRelease date: December 24, 2017 [eBook #56244]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)
Title: Sonnets and Poems
Author: Eleanor Farjeon
Author: Eleanor Farjeon
Release date: December 24, 2017 [eBook #56244]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Chuck Greif, MWS and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SONNETS AND POEMS ***
TO VIOLA.
¶ Some of these poems have appeared in The Athenæum, Blackwood’sMagazine, The Englishwoman, Root and Branch, The Saturday Westminster,and The Vineyard: by the courtesy of whose editors they are reprintedin this volume.
MAN cannot be a sophist to his heart,He must look nakedly on his intent,Expose it of all shreds of argument,And strip it like a slave-girl in the mart.What though with speckled truths and masked confessionsHe still deceives awhile the outer sense?At barely half his honesty’s expenseStill earns the world’s excuse for the world’s transgressions?His conscience cannot play the marshland elf,Confusing that poor midnight wanderer,His soul, with floundering lights and errant gleams.O what damnation man would deal himselfIf meeting her beyond his uttermost dreamsHe still could face his soul and lie to her.
MAN cannot be a sophist to his heart,He must look nakedly on his intent,Expose it of all shreds of argument,And strip it like a slave-girl in the mart.What though with speckled truths and masked confessionsHe still deceives awhile the outer sense?At barely half his honesty’s expenseStill earns the world’s excuse for the world’s transgressions?His conscience cannot play the marshland elf,Confusing that poor midnight wanderer,His soul, with floundering lights and errant gleams.O what damnation man would deal himselfIf meeting her beyond his uttermost dreamsHe still could face his soul and lie to her.
MAN cannot be a sophist to his heart,He must look nakedly on his intent,Expose it of all shreds of argument,And strip it like a slave-girl in the mart.What though with speckled truths and masked confessionsHe still deceives awhile the outer sense?At barely half his honesty’s expenseStill earns the world’s excuse for the world’s transgressions?
His conscience cannot play the marshland elf,Confusing that poor midnight wanderer,His soul, with floundering lights and errant gleams.O what damnation man would deal himselfIf meeting her beyond his uttermost dreamsHe still could face his soul and lie to her.
O SPARE me from the hand of niggard loveThat grasps at interest on what it lends,And sets cold counsel as a guard aboveThe hoard it calculates before it spends.Such misers of the riches of the heartBear their untested treasure to the grave,And miss the whole, striving to save the part,By the bare measure they have striven to save.Is it for pride in saying at the end:See, Life! I spent not all that thou hast given—Lo, this and this and this I did not spend!I stinted earth of bliss to add to heaven.Alas, poor fools! life only gave ye thisBecause earth has such need of heavenly bliss.
O SPARE me from the hand of niggard loveThat grasps at interest on what it lends,And sets cold counsel as a guard aboveThe hoard it calculates before it spends.Such misers of the riches of the heartBear their untested treasure to the grave,And miss the whole, striving to save the part,By the bare measure they have striven to save.Is it for pride in saying at the end:See, Life! I spent not all that thou hast given—Lo, this and this and this I did not spend!I stinted earth of bliss to add to heaven.Alas, poor fools! life only gave ye thisBecause earth has such need of heavenly bliss.
O SPARE me from the hand of niggard loveThat grasps at interest on what it lends,And sets cold counsel as a guard aboveThe hoard it calculates before it spends.Such misers of the riches of the heartBear their untested treasure to the grave,And miss the whole, striving to save the part,By the bare measure they have striven to save.
Is it for pride in saying at the end:See, Life! I spent not all that thou hast given—Lo, this and this and this I did not spend!I stinted earth of bliss to add to heaven.Alas, poor fools! life only gave ye thisBecause earth has such need of heavenly bliss.
ONCE, Love, be prodigal, nor look hereafter,Not though experience unrolls the yearsAnd bids thee count the cost of golden laughterIn the dull coinage of leaden tears.O perjured wisdom! half-truth hedged with lies!That makes a common stake of joy and pain,When tears are man’s most mortal certaintiesAnd every instant’s joy his heavenly gain.Ah, mystery that sowed our breath and being,What harvest wilt thou get of untilled powers?Why didst thou give us sight if not for seeing?Why if we dare not hear make hearing ours?Or why in life’s name this high passion of loveBut in life’s name its passionate height to prove?
ONCE, Love, be prodigal, nor look hereafter,Not though experience unrolls the yearsAnd bids thee count the cost of golden laughterIn the dull coinage of leaden tears.O perjured wisdom! half-truth hedged with lies!That makes a common stake of joy and pain,When tears are man’s most mortal certaintiesAnd every instant’s joy his heavenly gain.Ah, mystery that sowed our breath and being,What harvest wilt thou get of untilled powers?Why didst thou give us sight if not for seeing?Why if we dare not hear make hearing ours?Or why in life’s name this high passion of loveBut in life’s name its passionate height to prove?
ONCE, Love, be prodigal, nor look hereafter,Not though experience unrolls the yearsAnd bids thee count the cost of golden laughterIn the dull coinage of leaden tears.O perjured wisdom! half-truth hedged with lies!That makes a common stake of joy and pain,When tears are man’s most mortal certaintiesAnd every instant’s joy his heavenly gain.
Ah, mystery that sowed our breath and being,What harvest wilt thou get of untilled powers?Why didst thou give us sight if not for seeing?Why if we dare not hear make hearing ours?Or why in life’s name this high passion of loveBut in life’s name its passionate height to prove?
WILT thou put seals on love because men sayLove is a thing that certain time will steal?As well, since night is certain after day,Might men their eyelids to the noontide seal.Nay! even though that worn-out tale were truth,And love, dear love, were time’s assurèd dower,What profit canst thou get of cheated youthBy paying usury before his hour?I will not hear the sorry tune of time,That bitter quencher of young blessedness.Not to have proved young rapture is the crime,Unproven it will be quenched no less, no less.And thou wilt to the earth at last, time’s scorn,Relinquishing a crown thou hast not worn.
WILT thou put seals on love because men sayLove is a thing that certain time will steal?As well, since night is certain after day,Might men their eyelids to the noontide seal.Nay! even though that worn-out tale were truth,And love, dear love, were time’s assurèd dower,What profit canst thou get of cheated youthBy paying usury before his hour?I will not hear the sorry tune of time,That bitter quencher of young blessedness.Not to have proved young rapture is the crime,Unproven it will be quenched no less, no less.And thou wilt to the earth at last, time’s scorn,Relinquishing a crown thou hast not worn.
WILT thou put seals on love because men sayLove is a thing that certain time will steal?As well, since night is certain after day,Might men their eyelids to the noontide seal.Nay! even though that worn-out tale were truth,And love, dear love, were time’s assurèd dower,What profit canst thou get of cheated youthBy paying usury before his hour?
I will not hear the sorry tune of time,That bitter quencher of young blessedness.Not to have proved young rapture is the crime,Unproven it will be quenched no less, no less.And thou wilt to the earth at last, time’s scorn,Relinquishing a crown thou hast not worn.
WHEN all is said, we can but turn our eyesIn helplessness on the miraculous heartAnd secretly dream opportunitiesThat shall its untried force in motion start;But life that launched and left us lets us drift,Our mightiest dreams still lean on circumstance,The essence of pain and joy is in our giftBut not its seasons of significance.We cannot by the strength of our desiresCompel our destinies; we only feelThat in our souls imperishable firesAre hungry for the anvil and the steel.But if life brings no metal to the flameWhat shall we fashion of it in life’s name?
WHEN all is said, we can but turn our eyesIn helplessness on the miraculous heartAnd secretly dream opportunitiesThat shall its untried force in motion start;But life that launched and left us lets us drift,Our mightiest dreams still lean on circumstance,The essence of pain and joy is in our giftBut not its seasons of significance.We cannot by the strength of our desiresCompel our destinies; we only feelThat in our souls imperishable firesAre hungry for the anvil and the steel.But if life brings no metal to the flameWhat shall we fashion of it in life’s name?
WHEN all is said, we can but turn our eyesIn helplessness on the miraculous heartAnd secretly dream opportunitiesThat shall its untried force in motion start;But life that launched and left us lets us drift,Our mightiest dreams still lean on circumstance,The essence of pain and joy is in our giftBut not its seasons of significance.
We cannot by the strength of our desiresCompel our destinies; we only feelThat in our souls imperishable firesAre hungry for the anvil and the steel.But if life brings no metal to the flameWhat shall we fashion of it in life’s name?
CERTAIN among us walk in lonelinessAlong the pale unprofitable days,Hazarding many an unanswered guessAt what vague purpose wastes us on our ways.We know that we are potent to create,We say, I could be such or such or such,And lo, indifferent death swings back the gateAnd life has never put us to the touch.So women with the aching will to bearStill to the barren grave must barren go,And men that might again like Titans dareAngelic secrets, die and nothing know.Alas! why were we born to woe and blissIf life had no more need of us than this?
CERTAIN among us walk in lonelinessAlong the pale unprofitable days,Hazarding many an unanswered guessAt what vague purpose wastes us on our ways.We know that we are potent to create,We say, I could be such or such or such,And lo, indifferent death swings back the gateAnd life has never put us to the touch.So women with the aching will to bearStill to the barren grave must barren go,And men that might again like Titans dareAngelic secrets, die and nothing know.Alas! why were we born to woe and blissIf life had no more need of us than this?
CERTAIN among us walk in lonelinessAlong the pale unprofitable days,Hazarding many an unanswered guessAt what vague purpose wastes us on our ways.We know that we are potent to create,We say, I could be such or such or such,And lo, indifferent death swings back the gateAnd life has never put us to the touch.
So women with the aching will to bearStill to the barren grave must barren go,And men that might again like Titans dareAngelic secrets, die and nothing know.Alas! why were we born to woe and blissIf life had no more need of us than this?
WHEN I see two delay their wings at heavenTo scan the creeping audience of the earth,I think the angelic hosts of life must evenBreak into tears of fire or furious mirth,That ever spirits nearly perfectedShould count the cost of knowing themselves sublime,Setting the measurable years in dreadAgainst their single flash of measureless time.So issues strange to nature are debated,Woven in nets and beaten into bars,While nature’s issue stands unconsummatedUpon the very boundary of the stars;And souls whose unity had been divineSundered shrink back from God’s to man’s design.
WHEN I see two delay their wings at heavenTo scan the creeping audience of the earth,I think the angelic hosts of life must evenBreak into tears of fire or furious mirth,That ever spirits nearly perfectedShould count the cost of knowing themselves sublime,Setting the measurable years in dreadAgainst their single flash of measureless time.So issues strange to nature are debated,Woven in nets and beaten into bars,While nature’s issue stands unconsummatedUpon the very boundary of the stars;And souls whose unity had been divineSundered shrink back from God’s to man’s design.
WHEN I see two delay their wings at heavenTo scan the creeping audience of the earth,I think the angelic hosts of life must evenBreak into tears of fire or furious mirth,That ever spirits nearly perfectedShould count the cost of knowing themselves sublime,Setting the measurable years in dreadAgainst their single flash of measureless time.
So issues strange to nature are debated,Woven in nets and beaten into bars,While nature’s issue stands unconsummatedUpon the very boundary of the stars;And souls whose unity had been divineSundered shrink back from God’s to man’s design.
ALAS, that ever life’s sleek counterfeit,Convention, should usurp life’s very throne,Setting about the bitter and the sweetObservances the soul disdains to own.It muffles up with bland expedient tongueThe wise examination of the mind,Bribing the old and threatening the youngAnd offering easy conduct to the blind.A handbook of few rules for many cases,One answer to more sums than it can prove,With prizes for apt scholars in its paces,A veil for knowledge and a ring for love;And this smooth text for any questioning heart—Know not, and be less than, the thing thou art.
ALAS, that ever life’s sleek counterfeit,Convention, should usurp life’s very throne,Setting about the bitter and the sweetObservances the soul disdains to own.It muffles up with bland expedient tongueThe wise examination of the mind,Bribing the old and threatening the youngAnd offering easy conduct to the blind.A handbook of few rules for many cases,One answer to more sums than it can prove,With prizes for apt scholars in its paces,A veil for knowledge and a ring for love;And this smooth text for any questioning heart—Know not, and be less than, the thing thou art.
ALAS, that ever life’s sleek counterfeit,Convention, should usurp life’s very throne,Setting about the bitter and the sweetObservances the soul disdains to own.It muffles up with bland expedient tongueThe wise examination of the mind,Bribing the old and threatening the youngAnd offering easy conduct to the blind.
A handbook of few rules for many cases,One answer to more sums than it can prove,With prizes for apt scholars in its paces,A veil for knowledge and a ring for love;And this smooth text for any questioning heart—Know not, and be less than, the thing thou art.
LOVE needs not two the render it complete,O certainly love needs not even one!Sweet singing wants no listener to be sweet,And unseen light’s still proper to the sun.When sunlight falls upon unpeopled valleysNo presence can increase or dim its fall,When nightingales sing in deserted alleysNo ear can make the night more musical.If solitary into the light and songI come, I know I have my treasure whole,Yea, and still have it whole, although a throngRuns after me down paths whereby I stole,Yea, and still have it whole, though only oneShould follow me—or none, beloved, or none.
LOVE needs not two the render it complete,O certainly love needs not even one!Sweet singing wants no listener to be sweet,And unseen light’s still proper to the sun.When sunlight falls upon unpeopled valleysNo presence can increase or dim its fall,When nightingales sing in deserted alleysNo ear can make the night more musical.If solitary into the light and songI come, I know I have my treasure whole,Yea, and still have it whole, although a throngRuns after me down paths whereby I stole,Yea, and still have it whole, though only oneShould follow me—or none, beloved, or none.
LOVE needs not two the render it complete,O certainly love needs not even one!Sweet singing wants no listener to be sweet,And unseen light’s still proper to the sun.When sunlight falls upon unpeopled valleysNo presence can increase or dim its fall,When nightingales sing in deserted alleysNo ear can make the night more musical.
If solitary into the light and songI come, I know I have my treasure whole,Yea, and still have it whole, although a throngRuns after me down paths whereby I stole,Yea, and still have it whole, though only oneShould follow me—or none, beloved, or none.
WHAT is this anguish then that always standsMingled in love, if love be love’s sole end?O it is life still gasping his commandsAnd crying love therein to stand his friend.Life drives us all whether we love or no,We are life’s purpose, he much less is ours,And we like panting beasts in harness goWhile his fierce needs make torments of our powers.Only when love across the heavy fieldsDivinely treads to labour with the clods,He breaks the goad that life is glad to yield,And lifts the yoke that bowed us to the sods:Upstanding, we behold a God revealed,And serve life’s purpose not like beasts but gods.
WHAT is this anguish then that always standsMingled in love, if love be love’s sole end?O it is life still gasping his commandsAnd crying love therein to stand his friend.Life drives us all whether we love or no,We are life’s purpose, he much less is ours,And we like panting beasts in harness goWhile his fierce needs make torments of our powers.Only when love across the heavy fieldsDivinely treads to labour with the clods,He breaks the goad that life is glad to yield,And lifts the yoke that bowed us to the sods:Upstanding, we behold a God revealed,And serve life’s purpose not like beasts but gods.
WHAT is this anguish then that always standsMingled in love, if love be love’s sole end?O it is life still gasping his commandsAnd crying love therein to stand his friend.Life drives us all whether we love or no,We are life’s purpose, he much less is ours,And we like panting beasts in harness goWhile his fierce needs make torments of our powers.
Only when love across the heavy fieldsDivinely treads to labour with the clods,He breaks the goad that life is glad to yield,And lifts the yoke that bowed us to the sods:Upstanding, we behold a God revealed,And serve life’s purpose not like beasts but gods.
A FEW of us who faltered as we faredLove has returned for. Still he leads us on,But where we walk the furrows are preparedAnd sown and fruitful, and the sowers are gone.O love, O love, the way too easy lies!Life on the rough horizon yonder goes,And when I call he will not turn his eyes,But with my brothers sows, and reaps, and sows.Life without love, O bitter, bitterest birth!Love without life still leaves us in our need.Ah, love, give up to me my patch of earth,My pinch of seed! Hast neither earth nor seed?Then whence these visions of thy presence born,These shining visions of flowers and fruit and corn?
A FEW of us who faltered as we faredLove has returned for. Still he leads us on,But where we walk the furrows are preparedAnd sown and fruitful, and the sowers are gone.O love, O love, the way too easy lies!Life on the rough horizon yonder goes,And when I call he will not turn his eyes,But with my brothers sows, and reaps, and sows.Life without love, O bitter, bitterest birth!Love without life still leaves us in our need.Ah, love, give up to me my patch of earth,My pinch of seed! Hast neither earth nor seed?Then whence these visions of thy presence born,These shining visions of flowers and fruit and corn?
A FEW of us who faltered as we faredLove has returned for. Still he leads us on,But where we walk the furrows are preparedAnd sown and fruitful, and the sowers are gone.O love, O love, the way too easy lies!Life on the rough horizon yonder goes,And when I call he will not turn his eyes,But with my brothers sows, and reaps, and sows.
Life without love, O bitter, bitterest birth!Love without life still leaves us in our need.Ah, love, give up to me my patch of earth,My pinch of seed! Hast neither earth nor seed?Then whence these visions of thy presence born,These shining visions of flowers and fruit and corn?
I HEAR love answer: Since within the meshOf blood and flesh you labour for awhile,I, even I, must use you in the flesh,Leavening it of all the world calls vile.I am not nature’s force. O, she will forgeHer indomitable end without my aid,And men cry out on her with rising gorgeAs though they were of other forces made.Not being her bond-slave, I alone can giveVisions that are unmingled with her earth,But since this present in her habit you liveI must meet nature to fulfil their birth.Only when you and I come clear of the clay,Beloved, I will fulfil them as I may.
I HEAR love answer: Since within the meshOf blood and flesh you labour for awhile,I, even I, must use you in the flesh,Leavening it of all the world calls vile.I am not nature’s force. O, she will forgeHer indomitable end without my aid,And men cry out on her with rising gorgeAs though they were of other forces made.Not being her bond-slave, I alone can giveVisions that are unmingled with her earth,But since this present in her habit you liveI must meet nature to fulfil their birth.Only when you and I come clear of the clay,Beloved, I will fulfil them as I may.
I HEAR love answer: Since within the meshOf blood and flesh you labour for awhile,I, even I, must use you in the flesh,Leavening it of all the world calls vile.I am not nature’s force. O, she will forgeHer indomitable end without my aid,And men cry out on her with rising gorgeAs though they were of other forces made.
Not being her bond-slave, I alone can giveVisions that are unmingled with her earth,But since this present in her habit you liveI must meet nature to fulfil their birth.Only when you and I come clear of the clay,Beloved, I will fulfil them as I may.
THY glance is lovelier than the glance of the moon,Thy breath more heavenly than the breath of may,When thou dost gaze my sight begins to swoon,When thou dost breathe my own breath swims away.O love, with strange clear light, with strange dim breath,Thou dost pervade me, till all strength, all sense,Dissolve, it may be as they will when deathLooses the soul from the body’s impotence.The stones I tread no longer solid are,These narrow houses all are built of air,Nay, are they on this star, or on that starDistantly trembling? Am I here or there?Love, love, I know not what is near and far,I am with thee and thou art everywhere.
THY glance is lovelier than the glance of the moon,Thy breath more heavenly than the breath of may,When thou dost gaze my sight begins to swoon,When thou dost breathe my own breath swims away.O love, with strange clear light, with strange dim breath,Thou dost pervade me, till all strength, all sense,Dissolve, it may be as they will when deathLooses the soul from the body’s impotence.The stones I tread no longer solid are,These narrow houses all are built of air,Nay, are they on this star, or on that starDistantly trembling? Am I here or there?Love, love, I know not what is near and far,I am with thee and thou art everywhere.
THY glance is lovelier than the glance of the moon,Thy breath more heavenly than the breath of may,When thou dost gaze my sight begins to swoon,When thou dost breathe my own breath swims away.O love, with strange clear light, with strange dim breath,Thou dost pervade me, till all strength, all sense,Dissolve, it may be as they will when deathLooses the soul from the body’s impotence.
The stones I tread no longer solid are,These narrow houses all are built of air,Nay, are they on this star, or on that starDistantly trembling? Am I here or there?Love, love, I know not what is near and far,I am with thee and thou art everywhere.
NOW I have love again and life againBy either hand, and cannot join their palms;For me they never will be one but twain,And I from each accept the barest alms.Life’s dole I scatter publicly, love’s liesUnspent, unspent for ever in my heart—Poor heart, poor beggar of bleak charitiesFrom stores wherein it owns no proper part.Each knows me for his almsman in distressAnd brings his mercies to my famished door,But love asks not who doth my body dress,Nor life who stoops to clothe a heart so poor.Why do ye always come in singleness?Meet in me once, and I will want no more.
NOW I have love again and life againBy either hand, and cannot join their palms;For me they never will be one but twain,And I from each accept the barest alms.Life’s dole I scatter publicly, love’s liesUnspent, unspent for ever in my heart—Poor heart, poor beggar of bleak charitiesFrom stores wherein it owns no proper part.Each knows me for his almsman in distressAnd brings his mercies to my famished door,But love asks not who doth my body dress,Nor life who stoops to clothe a heart so poor.Why do ye always come in singleness?Meet in me once, and I will want no more.
NOW I have love again and life againBy either hand, and cannot join their palms;For me they never will be one but twain,And I from each accept the barest alms.Life’s dole I scatter publicly, love’s liesUnspent, unspent for ever in my heart—Poor heart, poor beggar of bleak charitiesFrom stores wherein it owns no proper part.
Each knows me for his almsman in distressAnd brings his mercies to my famished door,But love asks not who doth my body dress,Nor life who stoops to clothe a heart so poor.Why do ye always come in singleness?Meet in me once, and I will want no more.
FAREWELL, you children that I might have borne.Now must I put you from me year by year,Now year by year the root of life be tornOut of this womb to which you were so dear,Now year by year the milky springs be driedWithin the sealed-up fountains of my breast,Now year by year be to my arms deniedThe burden they would break with and be blessed.Sometimes I felt your lips and hands so closeI almost could have plucked you from the dark,But now your very dream more distant growsAs my still aching body grows more stark.I shall not see you laugh or hear you weep,Kiss you awake, or cover up your sleep.
FAREWELL, you children that I might have borne.Now must I put you from me year by year,Now year by year the root of life be tornOut of this womb to which you were so dear,Now year by year the milky springs be driedWithin the sealed-up fountains of my breast,Now year by year be to my arms deniedThe burden they would break with and be blessed.Sometimes I felt your lips and hands so closeI almost could have plucked you from the dark,But now your very dream more distant growsAs my still aching body grows more stark.I shall not see you laugh or hear you weep,Kiss you awake, or cover up your sleep.
FAREWELL, you children that I might have borne.Now must I put you from me year by year,Now year by year the root of life be tornOut of this womb to which you were so dear,Now year by year the milky springs be driedWithin the sealed-up fountains of my breast,Now year by year be to my arms deniedThe burden they would break with and be blessed.
Sometimes I felt your lips and hands so closeI almost could have plucked you from the dark,But now your very dream more distant growsAs my still aching body grows more stark.I shall not see you laugh or hear you weep,Kiss you awake, or cover up your sleep.
O LOVELY life, how you have worn me outWith asking naught and leaving me at large,Till my unmeasured strength begins to doubtIf it could answer now your lightest charge.I am as weary as a child to-nightAnd with my heavy lack of burdens bowed,And power and pride have ceased to stand upright,Wanting the cause to be powerful and proud.Passion is spent, and nothing was it spent on,And grief run dry of having no wounds to cure,And discontent that was the staff I leant onIs stifled by its final panting breaths.I have only patience left: such patience, sure,Is not life’s child and mine, but mine and death’s.
O LOVELY life, how you have worn me outWith asking naught and leaving me at large,Till my unmeasured strength begins to doubtIf it could answer now your lightest charge.I am as weary as a child to-nightAnd with my heavy lack of burdens bowed,And power and pride have ceased to stand upright,Wanting the cause to be powerful and proud.Passion is spent, and nothing was it spent on,And grief run dry of having no wounds to cure,And discontent that was the staff I leant onIs stifled by its final panting breaths.I have only patience left: such patience, sure,Is not life’s child and mine, but mine and death’s.
O LOVELY life, how you have worn me outWith asking naught and leaving me at large,Till my unmeasured strength begins to doubtIf it could answer now your lightest charge.I am as weary as a child to-nightAnd with my heavy lack of burdens bowed,And power and pride have ceased to stand upright,Wanting the cause to be powerful and proud.
Passion is spent, and nothing was it spent on,And grief run dry of having no wounds to cure,And discontent that was the staff I leant onIs stifled by its final panting breaths.I have only patience left: such patience, sure,Is not life’s child and mine, but mine and death’s.
MY little dream, my momentary dream,My illimitable dream has slipt away.It came not like the morning, but the gleamIn morning’s van that is not night or day.But since my walls of ignorance are broken,Though on that desert knowledge builds no towers,I cannot say of life, he has not spoken,I cannot say of love, he has no powers.I have seen apparitions. I have heardRumours within my soul’s profoundest cave.Movements remote and mighty have been stirredIn my ancestral blood, while from the graveAnd womb of time strange thunders did ariseThat shook the throne of thought with prophecies.
MY little dream, my momentary dream,My illimitable dream has slipt away.It came not like the morning, but the gleamIn morning’s van that is not night or day.But since my walls of ignorance are broken,Though on that desert knowledge builds no towers,I cannot say of life, he has not spoken,I cannot say of love, he has no powers.I have seen apparitions. I have heardRumours within my soul’s profoundest cave.Movements remote and mighty have been stirredIn my ancestral blood, while from the graveAnd womb of time strange thunders did ariseThat shook the throne of thought with prophecies.
MY little dream, my momentary dream,My illimitable dream has slipt away.It came not like the morning, but the gleamIn morning’s van that is not night or day.But since my walls of ignorance are broken,Though on that desert knowledge builds no towers,I cannot say of life, he has not spoken,I cannot say of love, he has no powers.
I have seen apparitions. I have heardRumours within my soul’s profoundest cave.Movements remote and mighty have been stirredIn my ancestral blood, while from the graveAnd womb of time strange thunders did ariseThat shook the throne of thought with prophecies.
SHALL we not laugh together, you and I,I being at last fulfilled, at last at restWithin the strength of your beloved breast,Shall we not laugh once at a day gone byWhen, wan as things that lie below the earth,Things choked and buried, sunless and unsought,This richest life was only lived in thought,Seed without fruit, unconsummated birth?Love, in that time when you have called me yoursAnd have with kisses long outbreathed old fears,Love, let me not remember these! these hours,Save with one smile to drown their thousand tears.Then fold me in your bosom so deep awayThat memory cannot touch this loveless day.
SHALL we not laugh together, you and I,I being at last fulfilled, at last at restWithin the strength of your beloved breast,Shall we not laugh once at a day gone byWhen, wan as things that lie below the earth,Things choked and buried, sunless and unsought,This richest life was only lived in thought,Seed without fruit, unconsummated birth?Love, in that time when you have called me yoursAnd have with kisses long outbreathed old fears,Love, let me not remember these! these hours,Save with one smile to drown their thousand tears.Then fold me in your bosom so deep awayThat memory cannot touch this loveless day.
SHALL we not laugh together, you and I,I being at last fulfilled, at last at restWithin the strength of your beloved breast,Shall we not laugh once at a day gone byWhen, wan as things that lie below the earth,Things choked and buried, sunless and unsought,This richest life was only lived in thought,Seed without fruit, unconsummated birth?
Love, in that time when you have called me yoursAnd have with kisses long outbreathed old fears,Love, let me not remember these! these hours,Save with one smile to drown their thousand tears.Then fold me in your bosom so deep awayThat memory cannot touch this loveless day.
THE frost of the moon fell over my floorAnd six green singers stood at my door.“What do ye here that music make?”“Let us come in for Christ’s sweet Sake.”“Long have ye journeyed in coming here?”“Our Pilgrimage was the length of the year.”“Where do ye make for?” I asked of them.“Our Shrine is a Stable in Bethlehem.”“What will ye do as ye go along?”“Sing to the world an evergreen song.”“What will ye sing for the listening earth?”“One will sing of a brave-souled Mirth,“One of the Holiest Mystery,The Glory of glories shall one song be,“One of the Memory of things,One of the Child’s imaginings,“One of our songs is the fadeless Faith,And all are the Life more mighty than death.”“Ere ye be gone that music make,Give me an alms for Christ’s sweet Sake.”“Six green branches we leave with you;See they be scattered your house-place through.“The staunch blithe Holly your board shall grace,Mistletoe bless your chimney-place,“Laurel to crown your lighted hall,Over your bed let the Yew-bough fall,“Close by the cradle the Christmas Fir,For elfin dreams in its branches stir,“Last and loveliest, high and low,From ceil to floor let the Ivy go.”From each glad guest I received my giftAnd then the latch of my door did lift—“Green singers, God prosper the song ye makeAs ye sing to the world for Christ’s sweet Sake.”
THE frost of the moon fell over my floorAnd six green singers stood at my door.“What do ye here that music make?”“Let us come in for Christ’s sweet Sake.”“Long have ye journeyed in coming here?”“Our Pilgrimage was the length of the year.”“Where do ye make for?” I asked of them.“Our Shrine is a Stable in Bethlehem.”“What will ye do as ye go along?”“Sing to the world an evergreen song.”“What will ye sing for the listening earth?”“One will sing of a brave-souled Mirth,“One of the Holiest Mystery,The Glory of glories shall one song be,“One of the Memory of things,One of the Child’s imaginings,“One of our songs is the fadeless Faith,And all are the Life more mighty than death.”“Ere ye be gone that music make,Give me an alms for Christ’s sweet Sake.”“Six green branches we leave with you;See they be scattered your house-place through.“The staunch blithe Holly your board shall grace,Mistletoe bless your chimney-place,“Laurel to crown your lighted hall,Over your bed let the Yew-bough fall,“Close by the cradle the Christmas Fir,For elfin dreams in its branches stir,“Last and loveliest, high and low,From ceil to floor let the Ivy go.”From each glad guest I received my giftAnd then the latch of my door did lift—“Green singers, God prosper the song ye makeAs ye sing to the world for Christ’s sweet Sake.”
THE frost of the moon fell over my floorAnd six green singers stood at my door.
“What do ye here that music make?”“Let us come in for Christ’s sweet Sake.”
“Long have ye journeyed in coming here?”“Our Pilgrimage was the length of the year.”
“Where do ye make for?” I asked of them.“Our Shrine is a Stable in Bethlehem.”
“What will ye do as ye go along?”“Sing to the world an evergreen song.”
“What will ye sing for the listening earth?”“One will sing of a brave-souled Mirth,
“One of the Holiest Mystery,The Glory of glories shall one song be,
“One of the Memory of things,One of the Child’s imaginings,
“One of our songs is the fadeless Faith,And all are the Life more mighty than death.”
“Ere ye be gone that music make,Give me an alms for Christ’s sweet Sake.”
“Six green branches we leave with you;See they be scattered your house-place through.
“The staunch blithe Holly your board shall grace,Mistletoe bless your chimney-place,
“Laurel to crown your lighted hall,Over your bed let the Yew-bough fall,
“Close by the cradle the Christmas Fir,For elfin dreams in its branches stir,
“Last and loveliest, high and low,From ceil to floor let the Ivy go.”
From each glad guest I received my giftAnd then the latch of my door did lift—
“Green singers, God prosper the song ye makeAs ye sing to the world for Christ’s sweet Sake.”
TWO strangers met on a mountain-sideIn a far country ...The moon was young, the year was old,The airs of the night were bitter-cold,And their heavy cloaks their dress did hide.One stranger did the other stayIn that far country:“What brings you into the icy darkWith lifted eyes that only markThe lights of heaven, less light than day?”The second said the first untoIn the far country:“Many the lights of heaven are,But I watch for the birth of one more StarNot yet arisen. And what do you?”The first man to the other spokeIn the far country:“Even as you I wait the birthOf one new Light above the earth.What garb do you wear beneath your cloak?”The second dropped his outer dressIn that far country:He wore a sheep-skin frayed and thinWhose holes laid bare the shivering skin,And the wind made mock of his nakedness.The other did his robe unfoldIn that far country,And plain to see in the starlight dimWere the furs and purple that covered him,They were so heavy and rich with gold.The hand of each unto each did springIn that far country.“Brother, why dared ye the night?” “BecauseHe, even as I, a Shepherd was.”“I came, because He was a King.”Handfast they watched the Birth on highIn the far country.Shepherd and King forgotten be,But not that all men’s Brother was HeWho for all men did live and dieIn a far country.
TWO strangers met on a mountain-sideIn a far country ...The moon was young, the year was old,The airs of the night were bitter-cold,And their heavy cloaks their dress did hide.One stranger did the other stayIn that far country:“What brings you into the icy darkWith lifted eyes that only markThe lights of heaven, less light than day?”The second said the first untoIn the far country:“Many the lights of heaven are,But I watch for the birth of one more StarNot yet arisen. And what do you?”The first man to the other spokeIn the far country:“Even as you I wait the birthOf one new Light above the earth.What garb do you wear beneath your cloak?”The second dropped his outer dressIn that far country:He wore a sheep-skin frayed and thinWhose holes laid bare the shivering skin,And the wind made mock of his nakedness.The other did his robe unfoldIn that far country,And plain to see in the starlight dimWere the furs and purple that covered him,They were so heavy and rich with gold.The hand of each unto each did springIn that far country.“Brother, why dared ye the night?” “BecauseHe, even as I, a Shepherd was.”“I came, because He was a King.”Handfast they watched the Birth on highIn the far country.Shepherd and King forgotten be,But not that all men’s Brother was HeWho for all men did live and dieIn a far country.
TWO strangers met on a mountain-sideIn a far country ...The moon was young, the year was old,The airs of the night were bitter-cold,And their heavy cloaks their dress did hide.
One stranger did the other stayIn that far country:“What brings you into the icy darkWith lifted eyes that only markThe lights of heaven, less light than day?”
The second said the first untoIn the far country:“Many the lights of heaven are,But I watch for the birth of one more StarNot yet arisen. And what do you?”
The first man to the other spokeIn the far country:“Even as you I wait the birthOf one new Light above the earth.What garb do you wear beneath your cloak?”
The second dropped his outer dressIn that far country:He wore a sheep-skin frayed and thinWhose holes laid bare the shivering skin,And the wind made mock of his nakedness.
The other did his robe unfoldIn that far country,And plain to see in the starlight dimWere the furs and purple that covered him,They were so heavy and rich with gold.
The hand of each unto each did springIn that far country.“Brother, why dared ye the night?” “BecauseHe, even as I, a Shepherd was.”“I came, because He was a King.”
Handfast they watched the Birth on highIn the far country.Shepherd and King forgotten be,But not that all men’s Brother was HeWho for all men did live and dieIn a far country.
WHENCE got ye your soft, soft eyes of the mother, O soft-eyed cow?We saw the Mother of mothers bring forth, and that was how.We sheltered her that was shelterless for a little while,We watched the milking Babe at her breast, and we saw her smile.Even as we she lay upon straw, and even as weTook her sleep in the dark of the manger unfretfully,And when the dawn of the strange new Star discovered her thus,The ray that was destined for her and for Him fell also on us;The light passed into her eyes and ours, and full in its floodWe were first to behold the first mothering look of the Mother of God.
WHENCE got ye your soft, soft eyes of the mother, O soft-eyed cow?We saw the Mother of mothers bring forth, and that was how.We sheltered her that was shelterless for a little while,We watched the milking Babe at her breast, and we saw her smile.Even as we she lay upon straw, and even as weTook her sleep in the dark of the manger unfretfully,And when the dawn of the strange new Star discovered her thus,The ray that was destined for her and for Him fell also on us;The light passed into her eyes and ours, and full in its floodWe were first to behold the first mothering look of the Mother of God.
WHENCE got ye your soft, soft eyes of the mother, O soft-eyed cow?We saw the Mother of mothers bring forth, and that was how.We sheltered her that was shelterless for a little while,We watched the milking Babe at her breast, and we saw her smile.Even as we she lay upon straw, and even as weTook her sleep in the dark of the manger unfretfully,And when the dawn of the strange new Star discovered her thus,The ray that was destined for her and for Him fell also on us;The light passed into her eyes and ours, and full in its floodWe were first to behold the first mothering look of the Mother of God.
WHEN there dawns a certain StarComes a Stranger into the city;The feet of prayer his dear feet are,His hands they are the hands of pity.Every houseplace rich and poorShall show for welcome a sprig of green,And every heart shall open its doorTo let the Stranger enter in.I will set my door ajarThat he may enter if he please;The eyes of love his dear eyes are,His brow it is the brow of peace.Through the heart of every childAnd man and woman in the cityHe shall pass, and they be filledWith love and peace and prayer and pity.
WHEN there dawns a certain StarComes a Stranger into the city;The feet of prayer his dear feet are,His hands they are the hands of pity.Every houseplace rich and poorShall show for welcome a sprig of green,And every heart shall open its doorTo let the Stranger enter in.I will set my door ajarThat he may enter if he please;The eyes of love his dear eyes are,His brow it is the brow of peace.Through the heart of every childAnd man and woman in the cityHe shall pass, and they be filledWith love and peace and prayer and pity.
WHEN there dawns a certain StarComes a Stranger into the city;The feet of prayer his dear feet are,His hands they are the hands of pity.
Every houseplace rich and poorShall show for welcome a sprig of green,And every heart shall open its doorTo let the Stranger enter in.
I will set my door ajarThat he may enter if he please;The eyes of love his dear eyes are,His brow it is the brow of peace.
Through the heart of every childAnd man and woman in the cityHe shall pass, and they be filledWith love and peace and prayer and pity.
HERE’S greeting for the master,And for the mistress greeting,And greeting for each gallant ladAnd every pretty sweeting,And greeting for the little childrenDancing round our meeting.We be your servants all,We be merry mummers;We know jolly winter’s faceThough we ne’er saw summer’s;We come in wi’ the end o’ the year,For we be Christmas-comers.This here do be Saint George,This the heathen Paynim,Dragon he will drink your healthsWhen Saint George has slain him,This do be a beautiful maidAnd a trouble ’twere to train him!There’s our mumming endedAnd nothing to distress ye—Surely, we be little lothSince so kindly press ye.Here’s God bless ye, master, mistress,All the house, God bless ye!
HERE’S greeting for the master,And for the mistress greeting,And greeting for each gallant ladAnd every pretty sweeting,And greeting for the little childrenDancing round our meeting.We be your servants all,We be merry mummers;We know jolly winter’s faceThough we ne’er saw summer’s;We come in wi’ the end o’ the year,For we be Christmas-comers.This here do be Saint George,This the heathen Paynim,Dragon he will drink your healthsWhen Saint George has slain him,This do be a beautiful maidAnd a trouble ’twere to train him!There’s our mumming endedAnd nothing to distress ye—Surely, we be little lothSince so kindly press ye.Here’s God bless ye, master, mistress,All the house, God bless ye!
HERE’S greeting for the master,And for the mistress greeting,And greeting for each gallant ladAnd every pretty sweeting,And greeting for the little childrenDancing round our meeting.
We be your servants all,We be merry mummers;We know jolly winter’s faceThough we ne’er saw summer’s;We come in wi’ the end o’ the year,For we be Christmas-comers.
This here do be Saint George,This the heathen Paynim,Dragon he will drink your healthsWhen Saint George has slain him,This do be a beautiful maidAnd a trouble ’twere to train him!
There’s our mumming endedAnd nothing to distress ye—Surely, we be little lothSince so kindly press ye.Here’s God bless ye, master, mistress,All the house, God bless ye!
CHILD, when on this night you lieSoftly, undisturbedly,On as white a bed of downAs any child’s in London Town,By a fire that all the nightKeeps your chamber warm and light:Dream, if dreams are yet your law,Your bed of down a bed of straw,Only warmed and lighted byOne star in the open sky.Sweet you’ll sleep then, for we knowOnce a Child slept sweetly so.
CHILD, when on this night you lieSoftly, undisturbedly,On as white a bed of downAs any child’s in London Town,By a fire that all the nightKeeps your chamber warm and light:Dream, if dreams are yet your law,Your bed of down a bed of straw,Only warmed and lighted byOne star in the open sky.Sweet you’ll sleep then, for we knowOnce a Child slept sweetly so.
CHILD, when on this night you lieSoftly, undisturbedly,On as white a bed of downAs any child’s in London Town,By a fire that all the nightKeeps your chamber warm and light:Dream, if dreams are yet your law,Your bed of down a bed of straw,Only warmed and lighted byOne star in the open sky.Sweet you’ll sleep then, for we knowOnce a Child slept sweetly so.