THE WEAVER OF SOULS
Who is this unseen messengerFor ever between me and her,Who brings love's precious merchandise,The golden breath, the dew of sighs,And the wild, gentle thoughts that dwellToo fragile for the lips to tell,Each at their birth, to us beforeA heaving of the heart is o'er.Who art thou, unseen messenger?
I think, O Angel of the Lord,You make our hearts to so accordThat those who hear in after hoursMay sigh for love as deep as ours;And seek the magic that can giveAn Eden where the soul may live,Nor need to walk a road of clayWith stumbling feet, nor fall awayFrom thee, O Angel of the Lord.
TRANSFORMATION
In other climes as the times shall fleetYou yet may the hero be,And a loving heart may beat, my sweet,In a woman's breast for thee.
Your flight shall be in the height above,My wings droop low on the lea.For the eagle must grow a dove, my love,And the dove an eagle be.
CHILDREN OF LIR
We woke from our sleep in the bosom where cradled together we lay:The love of the Dark Hidden Father went with us upon our way.And gay was the breath in our being, and never a sorrow or fearWas on us, as singing together, we flew from the infinite Lir.
Through nights lit with diamond and sapphire we raced with the Children of Dawn,A chain that was silver and golden linked spirit to spirit, my swan.Till day in the heavens passed over, and still grew the beat of our wings,And the Breath of the Darkness enfolded to teach us unspeakable things.
Yet lower we fell and for comfort our pinionless spirits had nowThe leaning of bosom to bosom, the lifting of lip unto brow.Though chained to the earth yet we mourned not the loss of our heaven above,But passed from the vision of Beauty to the fathomless being of Love.
Still gay is the breath in our being, we wait for the Bell Branch to ringTo call us away to the Father, and then we will rise on the wing,And fly through the twilights of time till the home lights of heaven appear;Our spirits through love and through longing made one in the infinite Lir.
LIGHT AND DARK
Not the soul that's whitestWakens love the sweetest:When the heart is lightestOft the charm is fleetest.
While the snow-frail maiden,Waits the time of learning,To the passion ladenTurn with eager yearning.
While the heart is burningHeaven with earth is banded:To the stars returningGo not empty-handed.
Ah, the snow-frail maiden!Somehow truth has missed her,Left the heart unladenFor its burdened sister.
TWILIGHT BY THE CABIN
Dusk, a pearl-grey river, o'erHill and vale puts out the day—What do you wonder at, asthore,What's away in yonder grey?
Dark the eyes that linger long—Dream-fed heart, awake, come in,Warm the hearth and gay the song:Love with tender words would win.
Fades the eve in dreamy fire,But the heart of night is lit:Ancient beauty, old desire,By the cabin doorway flit.
This is Etain's land and line,And the homespun cannot hideKinship with a race divine,Thrill of rapture, light of pride.
There her golden kinsmen are:And her heart a moment knewAngus like the evening starFleeting through the dusk and dew.
Throw the woman's mask away:Wear the opal glimmering dress;Let the feathered starlight rayOver every gleaming tress.
Child of Etain, wherefore leaveLight and laughter, joyful years,For the earth's grey coloured eveEver dropping down with tears?
Was it for some love of old?Ah, reveal thyself. The barsOn the gateway would not hold:He will follow to the stars.
BEAUTY
My spirit would have beauty to build its magic artCome hither, star of evening, and dwell within my heartOh, twilight, fall in pearl dew, each healing drop may bringSome image of the song the Quiet seems to sing.
My spirit would have beauty to offer at the shrine,And turn dull earth to gold and water into wine,And burn in fiery dreams each thought till thrice refinedIt may have power to mirror the mighty Master's mind.
My spirit would have beauty to draw thee nigh, my bird.I seek the lips that spake thee, sung thee, a starry word.I'd breathe anew that music, and lure thee from afar,And still thy quivering pinions at peace in thy own star.
THE VISION OF LOVE
The twilight fleeted away in pearl on the stream,And night, like a diamond dome, stood still in our dream.Your eyes like burnished stones or as stars were brightWith the sudden vision that made us one with the night.
We loved in infinite spaces, forgetting hereThe breasts that were lit with life and the lips so near;Till the wizard willows waved in the wind and drewMe away from the fulness of love and down to you.
Our love was so vast that it filled the heavens up:But the soft white form I held was an empty cup,When the willows called me back to earth with their sigh,And we moved as shades through the deep that was you and I.
A MEMORY
You remember, dear, togetherTwo children, you and I,Sat once in the autumn weather,Watching the autumn sky.
There was some one round us strayingThe whole of the long day through,Who seemed to say, "I am playingAt hide and seek with you."
And one thing after anotherWas whispered out of the air,How God was a big, kind brotherWhose home is in everywhere.
His light like a smile comes glancingThrough the cool, cool winds as they pass,From the flowers in heaven dancingTo the stars that shine in the grass.
From the clouds in deep blue wreathingAnd most from the mountains tall,But God like a wind goes breathingA dream of Himself in all.
The heart of the Wise was beatingSweet, sweet, in our hearts that day:And many a thought came fleetingAnd fancies solemn and gay.
We were grave in our way diviningHow childhood was taking wings,And the wonder world was shiningWith vast eternal things.
The solemn twilight flutteredLike the plumes of seraphim,And we felt what things were utteredIn the sunset voice of Him.
We lingered long, for dearerThan home were the mountain placesWhere God from the stars dropt nearerOur pale, dreamy faces.
Our very hearts from beatingWe stilled in awed delight,For spirit and children were meetingIn the purple, ample night.
A SUMMER NIGHT
Her mist of primroses within her breastTwilight hath folded up, and o'er the west,Seeking remoter valleys long hath gone,Not yet hath come her sister of the dawn.Silence and coolness now the earth enfold,Jewels of glittering green, long mists of gold,Hazes of nebulous silver veil the height,And shake in tremors through the shadowy night.Heard through the stillness, as in whispered words,The wandering God-guided wings of birdsRuffle the dark. The little lives that lieDeep hid in grass join in a long-drawn sighMore softly still; and unheard through the blueThe falling of innumerable dew,Lifts with grey fingers all the leaves that layBurned in the heat of the consuming day.The lawns and lakes lie in this night of love,Admitted to the majesty above.Earth with the starry company hath part;The waters hold all heaven within their heart,And glimmer o'er with wave-lips everywhereLifted to meet the angel lips of air.The many homes of men shine near and far,Peace-laden as the tender evening star,The late home-coming folk anticipateTheir rest beyond the passing of the gate,And tread with sleep-filled hearts and drowsy feet.Oh, far away and wonderful and sweetAll this, all this. But far too many thingsObscuring, as a cloud of seraph wingsBlinding the seeker for the Lord behind,I fall away in weariness of mind.And think how far apart are I and you,Beloved, from those spirit children whoFelt but one single Being long ago,Whispering in gentleness and leaning lowOut of its majesty, as child to child.I think upon it all with heart grown wild.Hearing no voice, howe'er my spirit broods,No whisper from the dense infinitudes,This world of myriad things whose distance awes.Ah me; how innocent our childhood was!
WHOM WE WORSHIP
I would not have the love of lips and eyes,The ancient ways of love:But in my heart I built a Paradise,A nest there for the dove.
I felt the wings of light that fluttered throughThe gate I held apart:And all without was shadow, but I knewThe bird within my heart.
Then, while the innermost with music beat,The voice I loved so longSeemed only the dream echo faint and sweetOf a far sweeter song.
I could not even bear the thought I feltOf Thee and Me therein;And with white heat I strove the veil to meltThat love to love might win.
But ah, my dreams within their fountain fell;Not to be lost in thee,But with the high ancestral love to dwellIn its lone ecstasy.
MISTRUST
You look at me with wan, bright eyesWhen in the deeper world I stray:You fear some hidden ambush liesIn wait to call me, "Come away."
What if I see behind the veilYour starry self beseeching me,Or at its stern command grow pale,"Let her be free, let her be free?"
THE DREAM
I woke to find my pillow wetWith tears for deeds deep hid in sleep.I knew no sorrow here, but yetThe tears fell softly through the deep.
Your eyes, your other eyes of dream,Looked at me through the veil of blank;I saw their joyous, starlit gleamLike one who watches rank on rank.
His victor airy legions windAnd pass before his awful throne—Was there thy loving heart unkind,Was I thy captive all o'erthrown?
THE FEAST OF AGE
See where the light streams over Connla's fountainStarward aspire!The sacred sign upon the holy mountainShines in white fire:Wavering and flaming yonder o'er the snowsThe diamond lightMelts into silver or to sapphire glows,Night beyond night:And from the Heaven of Heaven descends on earthA dew divine.Come, let us mingle in the starry mirthAround the shrine.O Earth, Enchantress, Mother, to our homeIn thee we press,Thrilled by thy fiery breath and wrapt in someVast tenderness.The homeward birds, uncertain o'er their nestWheel in the dome,Fraught with dim dreams of more enraptured rest,Another home.But gather ye, to whose undarkened eyesNight is as day,Leap forth, immortals, Birds of Paradise,In bright array,Robed like the shining tresses of the sun,And by his nameCall from his haunt divine, the ancient oneOur Father Flame.Aye, from the wonder light, heart of our star,Come now, come now.Sun-breathing spirit, ray thy lights afar:Thy children bow,Hush with more awe the heart; the bright-browed racesAre nothing worth,By those dread gods from out whose awful facesThe earth looks forthInfinite pity set in calm, whose vision castAdown the yearsBeholds how beauty burns away at lastTheir children's tears.Now while our hearts the ancient quietnessFloods with its tide,The things of air and fire and height no lessIn it abide;And from their wanderings over sea and shoreThey rise as oneUnto the vastness, and with us adoreThe midnight sun,And enter the innumerable AllAnd shine like gold,And starlike gleam in the immortal's hall,The heavenly fold,And drink the sun-breaths from the Mother's lipsAwhile, and thenFail from the light and drop in dark eclipseTo earth again,Roaming along by heaven-hid promontoryAnd valley dim,Weaving a phantom image of the gloryThey knew in Him.Out of the fulness flow the winds, their songIs heard no more,Or hardly breathes a mystic sound alongThe dreamy shore,Blindly they move, unknowing as in trance;Their wanderingIs half with us, and half an inner dance,Led by the King.
A WAY OF ESCAPE
There's a way of escape through the Gate of Sorrow,A light at the end of the Path of Pain:But our joy and our love can have no to-morrow,And to drink is to sink to the earth again.
There is death in the breath when our lips draw nigher,And we lay waste the plain for a flower to grow;And we build up the tower of an hour's desireWith dust from the pit of its overthrow.
RECALL
What call may draw thee back again,Lost dove, what art, what charm may please?The tender touch, the kiss, are vain,For thou wert lured away by these.
Oh, must we use the iron hand,And mask with hate the holy breath,With alien voice give love's command,As they through love the call of death?
THE VOICE OF THE WATERS
Where the Greyhound River windeth through a loneliness so deep,Scarce a wild fowl shakes the quiet that the purple boglands keep,Only God exults in silence over fields no man may reap.
Where the silver wave with sweetness fed the tiny lives of grassI was bent above, my image mirrored in the fleeting glass,And a voice from out the water through my being seemed to pass.
"Still above the waters brooding, spirit, in thy timeless quest;Was the glory of thine image trembling over east and westNot divine enough when mirrored in the morning water's breast?"
With the sighing voice that murmured I was borne to ages dimEre the void was lit with beauty breathed upon by seraphim,We were cradled there together folded in the peace in Him.
One to be the master spirit, one to be the slave awoke,One to shape itself obedient to the fiery words we spoke,Flame and flood and stars and mountains from the primal waters broke.
I was huddled in the heather when the vision failed its light,Still and blue and vast above me towered aloft the solemn height,Where the stars like dewdrops glistened on the mountain slope of night.
IN CONNEMARA
With eyes all untroubled she laughs as she passes,Bending beneath the creel with the seaweed brown,Till evening with pearl-dew dims the shining grassesAnd night lit with dreamlight enfolds the sleepy town.
Then she will wander, her heart all a laughter,Tracking the dream star that lights the purple gloom.She follows the proud and golden races after,As high as theirs her spirit, as high will be her doom.
AN IRISH FACE
Not her own sorrow only that hath placeUpon yon gentle face.Too slight have been her childhood's years to gainThe imprint of such pain.It hid behind her laughing hours, and wroughtEach curve in saddest thoughtOn brow and lips and eyes. With subtle artIt made that little heartThrough its young joyous beatings to prepareA quiet shelter there,Where the Immortal Sorrows might find a home.And many there have come;Bowed in a mournful mist of golden hairDeirdre hath entered there.And shrouded in a fall of pitying dew,Weeping the friend he slew,The Hound of Ulla lies, with those who shedTears for the Wild Geese fled.And all the lovers on whom fate had warredCutting the Silver CordEnter, and softly breath by breath they mouldThe young heart to the old,The old protest, the old pity, whose powerAre gathering to the hourWhen their knit silence shall be mightier farThan leagued empires are.And dreaming of the sorrow on this faceWe grow of lordlier race,Could shake the rooted rampart of the hillsTo shield her from all ills,And through a deep adoring pity wonGrow what we dream upon.
HOPE IN FAILURE
Though now thou hast failed and art fallen, despair not because of defeat,Though lost for a while be thy heaven and weary of earth be thy feet,For all will be beauty about thee hereafter through sorrowful years,And lovely the dews for thy chilling and ruby thy heart-drip of tears.
The eyes that had gazed from afar on a beauty that blinded the eyesShall call forth its image for ever, its shadow in alien skies.The heart that had striven to beat in the heart of the Mighty too soonShall still of that beating remember some errant and faltering tune.
For thou hast but fallen to gather the last of the secrets of power;The beauty that breathes in thy spirit shall shape of thy sorrow a flower,The pale bud of pity shall open the bloom of its tenderest rays,The heart of whose shining is bright with the light of the Ancient of Days.
THE CROWN
I wore in joy a radiant star;Its rays flew forth into the night;It made them glad who watched afar,And filled their gloom with happy light.
Their eyes no more the light may win,And all the loves are changed to scorns.The rays of light pierce deep within,The star is now my crown of thorns.
THE EVERLASTING BATTLE
When in my shadowy hours I pierce the hidden heart of hopes and fears,They change into immortal joys or end in immemorial tears.Moytura's battle still endures and in this human heart of mineThe golden sun powers with the might of demon darkness intertwine.
I think that every teardrop shed still flows from Balor's eye of doom,And gazing on his ageless grief my heart is filled with ageless gloom:I close my ever-weary eyes and in my bitter spirit broodAnd am at one in vast despair with all the demon multitude.
But in the lightning flash of hope I feel the sun-god's fiery slingHas smote the horror in the heart where clouds of demon glooms take wing,I shake my heavy fears aside and seize the flaming sword of willI am of Dana's race divine and know I am immortal still.
ORDEAL
Love and pity are pleading with me this hour.What is this voice that stays me forbidding to yield,Offering beauty, love, and immortal power,Æons away in some far-off heavenly field?
Though I obey thee, Immortal, my heart is sore.Though love be withdrawn for love it bitterly grieves:Pity withheld in the breast makes sorrow more.Oh that the heart could feel what the mind believes!
Cease, O love, thy fiery and gentle pleading.Soft is thy grief, but in tempest through me it rolls.Dreamst thou not whither the path is leadingWhere the Dark Immortal would shepherd our weeping souls?
THE CHILD OF DESTINY
This is the hero-heart of the enchanted isle,Whom now the twilight children tenderly enfold,Pat with their pearly palms and crown with elfin gold,While in the mountain's breast his brothers watch and smile.Who now of Dana's host may guide these dancing feet?What bright immortal hides and through a child's light breathLaughs an immortal joy—Angus of love and deathReturned to make our hearts with dream and music beat?Or Lugh leaves heavenly wars to free his ancient land;Not on the fiery steed maned with tumultuous flameAs in the Fomor days the sunbright chieftain came,But in this dreaming boy, more subtle conquest planned.Or does the Mother brood some deed of sacrifice?Her heart in his laid bare to hosts of wounding spears,Till love immortal melt the cruel eyes to tears,Or on his brow be set the heroes' thorny prize.See! as some shadows of a darker race draw near,How he compels their feet, with what a proud command!What is it waves and gleams? Is that a Silver HandWhose light through delicate lifted fingers shines so clear?Night like a glowing seraph o'er the kingly boyWatches with ardent eyes from his own ancient home;And far away, rocking in living foamThe three great waves leap up exulting in their joy,Remembering the past, the immemorial deedsThe Danaan gods had wrought in guise of mortal men,Their elemental hearts madden with life again,And shaking foamy heads toss the great ocean steeds.
A FAREWELL
Only in my deep heart I love you, sweetest heart.Many another vesture hath the soul, I prayCall me not forth from this. If from the light I partOnly with clay I cling unto the clay.
And ah! my bright companion, you and I must goOur ways, unfolding lonely glories, not our own,Nor from each other gathered, but an inward glowBreathed by the Lone One on the seeker lone.
If for the heart's own sake we break the heart, we mayWhen the last ruby drop dissolves in diamond lightMeet in a deeper vesture in another day.Until that dawn, dear heart, good-night, good-night.
THE PARTING OF WAYS
The skies from black to pearly greyHad veered without a star or sun;Only a burning opal rayFell on your brow when all was done.
Aye, after victory, the crown;Yet through the fight no word of cheer;And what would win and what go downNo word could help, no light make clear.
A thousand ages onward ledTheir joys and sorrows to that hour;No wisdom weighed, no word was said,For only what we were had power.
There was no tender leaning thereOf brow to brow in loving mood;For we were rapt apart, and wereIn elemental solitude.
We knew not in redeeming dayWhether our spirits would be foundFloating along the starry way,Or in the earthly vapours drowned.
Brought by the sunrise-coloured flameTo earth, uncertain yet, the whileI looked at you, there slowly came,Noble and sisterly, your smile.
We bade adieu to love the old;We heard another lover then,Whose forms are myriad and untold,Sigh to us from the hearts of men.
A MIDNIGHT MEDITATION
How often have I said,"We may not grieve for the immortal dead."And now, poor blenchèd heart.Thy ruddy hues all tremulous depart.Why be with fate at strifeBecause one passes on from death to life,Who may no more delayRapt from our strange and pitiful dream awayBy One with ancient claimWho robes her with the spirit like a flame.Not lost this high belief—Oh, passionate heart, what is thy cause for grief?Is this thy sorrow now,She in eternal beauty may not bowThy troubles to effaceAs in old time a head with gentle graceAll tenderly laid by thineTaught thee the nearness of the love divine.Her joys no more for theeThan the impartial laughter of the sea,Her beauty no more fairFor thee alone, but starry, everywhere.Her pity dropped for youNo more than heaven above with healing dewFavours one home of men—Ah! grieve not; she becomes herself again,And passed beyond thy sightShe roams along the thought-swept fields of light,Moving in dreams untilShe finds again the root of ancient will,The old heroic loveThat emptied once the heavenly courts above.The angels heard from earthA mournful cry which shattered all their mirth,Raised by a senseless routWarring in chaos with discordant shout,And that the pain might ceaseThey grew rebellious in the Master's peace;And falling downward thenThe angelic lights were crucified in men;Leaving so radiant spheresFor earth's dim twilight ever wet with tearsThat through those shadows dimMight breathe the lovely music brought from Him.And now my grief I seeWas but that ancient shadow part of me,Not yet attuned to good,Still blind and senseless in its warring mood,I turn from it and climbTo the heroic spirit of the prime,The light that well foreknewAll the dark ways that it must journey through.Yet seeing still again,A distant glory o'er the hills of pain,Through all that chaos wildA breath as gentle as a little child,Through earth transformed, divine,The Christ-soul of the universe to shine.
AGE AND YOUTH
We have left our youth behind:Earth is in its baby years:Void of wisdom cries the wind,And the sunlight knows no tears.
When shall twilight feel the awe,All the rapt thought of the sage,And the lips of wind give lawDrawn from out their lore of age?
When shall earth begin to burnWith such love as thrills my breast?When shall we together turnTo our long, long home for rest?
Child and father, we grow oldWhile you laugh and play with flowers;And life's tale for us is toldHolding only empty hours.
Giant child, on you awaitAll the hopes and fears of men.In thy fulness is our fate—What till then, oh, what till then?
THE JOY OF EARTH
Oh, the sudden wings arising from the ploughed fields brownShowered aloft in spray of song the wildbird twitter floatsO'er the unseen fount awhile, and then comes dropping downNigh the cool brown earth to hush enraptured notes.
Far within a dome of trembling opal throbs the fire,Mistily its rain of diamond lances shed belowTouches eyes and brows and faces lit with wild desireFor the burning silence whither we would go.
Heart, O heart, once more it is the ancient joy of earthBreathes in thee and flings the wild wings sunward to the domeTo the light where all the Children of the Fire had birthThough our hearts and footsteps wander far from home.
RECONCILIATION
I begin through the grass once again to be bound to the Lord;I can see, through a face that has faded, the face full of restOf the Earth, of the Mother, my heart with her heart in accord,As I lie 'mid the cool green tresses that mantle her breastI begin with the grass once again to be bound to the Lord.
By the hand of a child I am led to the throne of the KingFor a touch that now fevers me not is forgotten and far,And his infinite sceptred hands that sway us can bringMe in dreams from the laugh of a child to the song of a star.On the laugh of a child I am borne to the joy of the King.
The sweetest song was ever sungMay soothe you but a little while:The gayest music ever rungShall yield you but a fleeting smile.
The well I digged you soon shall pass.You may but rest with me an hour:Yet drink, I offer you the glass,A moment of sustaining power,
And give to you, if it be gain,Whether in pleasure or annoy,To see one elemental pain,One light of everlasting joy.
As the mythological references made in a few poems may partially obscure the meaning for those unacquainted with Celtic tradition, I have appended here a brief commentary on the names mentioned.
Angus, the Celtic Eros. In the bardic stories he is described as a tall, golden-haired youth playing on a harp and surrounded by singing birds. The kisses of these birds created love and also brought death.
Balor, the prince of the dark powers. His eye turned every living thing it rested on into stone. He was killed at the battle of Moytura by Lugh the Sun-god.
Dana, the Hibernian mother of the gods who were named from her Tuatha De Danaan, or the Tribes of the goddess Dana. They are also sometimes called the Sidhe.
Etain, a Celtic goddess who is the subject of a famous story, "The Wooing of Etain." She left the heaven world and became the wife of an ancient Irish king.
Lir, the Oceanus of Celtic mythology. Probably the Great Deep or original divinity from whom all sprang. His son Mananan MacLir was the most spiritual divinity known to the ancient Gael. Lir is more familiar as the father of the children who were changed into swans by magic, and who lived for long ages on the waters around the Irish coast. The story of the fate of the children of Lir was probably in its earliest form a mythological account of the descent of the spirit from the Heaven-world to the Earth and its final redemption.
Lugh, the great god of light who led the De Danaans at the battle of Moytura, and who slew Balor of the Evil Eye by a cast from his sling. He is a Celtic Hermes or Apollo.
Fomor, the dark powers who were opposed to the hosts of light, the Tuatha De Danaan. They enslaved the latter for a time until the De Danaans rose, led by Lugh the Sun-god, and defeated the Fomors in the battle of Moytura.
Silver Hand. Nuada, one of the Danaan divinities, is called Nuada of the Silver Hand.
Hound of Ulla. Cuculain, the great champion of the Red Branch cycle of tales.
Sacred Hazel, the Celtic tree of life. It grew over Connla's Well, and the fruit which fell from it were the Nuts of Knowledge which give wisdom and inspiration. Connla's Well is a Celtic equivalent of the First Fountain of mysticism. As an old story states, "The folk of many arts have all drunk from that fountain."
"The three great waves" are "the wave of Toth, the wave of Rury, and the long, slow, white-foaming wave of Cluna." In the bardic stories these three mystical waves shout round the coast of Ireland in recognition of great kings and heroes.
"The Feast of Age," the druidic form of the mysteries. It was instituted by Mananan MacLir, and whoever partook of the feast became immortal.