Josephine Preston Peabody

ILord Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoiceWhen at last a little boy’sCheek lies heavy as a rose,And his eyelids close?Gabriel, when that hush may be,This sweet hand all heedfullyI’ll undo, for thee alone,From his mother’s own.Then the far blue highways pavenWith the burning stars of heavenHe shall gladden with the sweetHasting of his feet—Feet so brightly bare and cool,Leaping, as from pool to pool;From a little laughing boySplashing rainbow joy!Gabriel, wilt thou understandHow to keep his hovering hand—Never shut, as in a bond,From the bright beyond?Nay, but though it cling and closeTightly as a clinging rose,Clasp it only so—aright,Lest his heart take fright.(Dormi, dormi, tu;The dusk is hung with blue.)IILord Michael, wilt not thou rejoiceWhen at last a little boy’sHeart, a shut-in murmuring bee,Turns him into thee?Wilt thou heed thine armor well—To take his hand from Gabriel,So his radiant cup of dreamMay not spill a gleam?He will take thy heart in thrall,Telling o’er thy breastplate allColors, in his bubbling speech,With his hand to each.(Dormi, dormi, tu,Sapphire is the blue;Pearl and beryl, they are called,Chrysoprase and emerald,Sard and amethyst.Numbered so, and kissed.)Ah, but find some angel wordFor thy sharp, subduing sword!Yea, Lord Michael, make no doubtHe will find it out:(Dormi, dormi, tu!)His eyes will look at you.IIILast, a little morning space,Lead him to that leafy placeWhere Our Lady sits awake,For all mothers’ sake.Bosomed with the Blessèd One,He shall mind her of her Son,Once so folded from all harms,In her shrining arms.(In her veil of blue,Dormi, dormi, tu.)So—and fare thee well.Softly—Gabriel ...When the first faint red shall come,Bid the Day-star lead him home—For the bright world’s sake—To my heart, awake.

Lord Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoiceWhen at last a little boy’sCheek lies heavy as a rose,And his eyelids close?

Lord Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoice

When at last a little boy’s

Cheek lies heavy as a rose,

And his eyelids close?

Gabriel, when that hush may be,This sweet hand all heedfullyI’ll undo, for thee alone,From his mother’s own.

Gabriel, when that hush may be,

This sweet hand all heedfully

I’ll undo, for thee alone,

From his mother’s own.

Then the far blue highways pavenWith the burning stars of heavenHe shall gladden with the sweetHasting of his feet—

Then the far blue highways paven

With the burning stars of heaven

He shall gladden with the sweet

Hasting of his feet—

Feet so brightly bare and cool,Leaping, as from pool to pool;From a little laughing boySplashing rainbow joy!

Feet so brightly bare and cool,

Leaping, as from pool to pool;

From a little laughing boy

Splashing rainbow joy!

Gabriel, wilt thou understandHow to keep his hovering hand—Never shut, as in a bond,From the bright beyond?

Gabriel, wilt thou understand

How to keep his hovering hand—

Never shut, as in a bond,

From the bright beyond?

Nay, but though it cling and closeTightly as a clinging rose,Clasp it only so—aright,Lest his heart take fright.

Nay, but though it cling and close

Tightly as a clinging rose,

Clasp it only so—aright,

Lest his heart take fright.

(Dormi, dormi, tu;The dusk is hung with blue.)

(Dormi, dormi, tu;

The dusk is hung with blue.)

Lord Michael, wilt not thou rejoiceWhen at last a little boy’sHeart, a shut-in murmuring bee,Turns him into thee?

Lord Michael, wilt not thou rejoice

When at last a little boy’s

Heart, a shut-in murmuring bee,

Turns him into thee?

Wilt thou heed thine armor well—To take his hand from Gabriel,So his radiant cup of dreamMay not spill a gleam?

Wilt thou heed thine armor well—

To take his hand from Gabriel,

So his radiant cup of dream

May not spill a gleam?

He will take thy heart in thrall,Telling o’er thy breastplate allColors, in his bubbling speech,With his hand to each.

He will take thy heart in thrall,

Telling o’er thy breastplate all

Colors, in his bubbling speech,

With his hand to each.

(Dormi, dormi, tu,Sapphire is the blue;Pearl and beryl, they are called,Chrysoprase and emerald,Sard and amethyst.Numbered so, and kissed.)

(Dormi, dormi, tu,

Sapphire is the blue;

Pearl and beryl, they are called,

Chrysoprase and emerald,

Sard and amethyst.

Numbered so, and kissed.)

Ah, but find some angel wordFor thy sharp, subduing sword!Yea, Lord Michael, make no doubtHe will find it out:

Ah, but find some angel word

For thy sharp, subduing sword!

Yea, Lord Michael, make no doubt

He will find it out:

(Dormi, dormi, tu!)His eyes will look at you.

(Dormi, dormi, tu!)

His eyes will look at you.

III

Last, a little morning space,Lead him to that leafy placeWhere Our Lady sits awake,For all mothers’ sake.

Last, a little morning space,

Lead him to that leafy place

Where Our Lady sits awake,

For all mothers’ sake.

Bosomed with the Blessèd One,He shall mind her of her Son,Once so folded from all harms,In her shrining arms.

Bosomed with the Blessèd One,

He shall mind her of her Son,

Once so folded from all harms,

In her shrining arms.

(In her veil of blue,Dormi, dormi, tu.)

(In her veil of blue,

Dormi, dormi, tu.)

So—and fare thee well.Softly—Gabriel ...When the first faint red shall come,Bid the Day-star lead him home—For the bright world’s sake—To my heart, awake.

So—and fare thee well.

Softly—Gabriel ...

When the first faint red shall come,

Bid the Day-star lead him home—

For the bright world’s sake—

To my heart, awake.

All down the years the fragrance came,The mingled fragrance, with a flame,Of cedars breathing in the sun,The cedar-trees of Lebanon.O thirst of song in bitter air,And hope, wing-hurt from iron care,What balm of myrrh and honey, wonFrom far-off trees of Lebanon!Not from these eyelids yet have IEver beheld that early sky.Why do they call me through the sun?—Even the trees of Lebanon?

All down the years the fragrance came,The mingled fragrance, with a flame,Of cedars breathing in the sun,The cedar-trees of Lebanon.

All down the years the fragrance came,

The mingled fragrance, with a flame,

Of cedars breathing in the sun,

The cedar-trees of Lebanon.

O thirst of song in bitter air,And hope, wing-hurt from iron care,What balm of myrrh and honey, wonFrom far-off trees of Lebanon!

O thirst of song in bitter air,

And hope, wing-hurt from iron care,

What balm of myrrh and honey, won

From far-off trees of Lebanon!

Not from these eyelids yet have IEver beheld that early sky.Why do they call me through the sun?—Even the trees of Lebanon?

Not from these eyelids yet have I

Ever beheld that early sky.

Why do they call me through the sun?—

Even the trees of Lebanon?

King Solomon was the wisest manOf all that have been kings.He built an House unto the Lord;And he sang of creeping things.Of creeping things, of things that fly,Or swim within the seas;Of the little weed along the wall,And of the cedar-trees.And happier he, without mistake,Than all men since alive.God’s House he built; and he did makeA thousand songs and five.

King Solomon was the wisest manOf all that have been kings.He built an House unto the Lord;And he sang of creeping things.

King Solomon was the wisest man

Of all that have been kings.

He built an House unto the Lord;

And he sang of creeping things.

Of creeping things, of things that fly,Or swim within the seas;Of the little weed along the wall,And of the cedar-trees.

Of creeping things, of things that fly,

Or swim within the seas;

Of the little weed along the wall,

And of the cedar-trees.

And happier he, without mistake,Than all men since alive.God’s House he built; and he did makeA thousand songs and five.

And happier he, without mistake,

Than all men since alive.

God’s House he built; and he did make

A thousand songs and five.

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