ON GUARD
Halt! Who comes there?Care.
Word, friend or foe!Woe.
What is thy will?Ill.
Who sent thee here?Fear.
Where doth he dwell?Hell!
Name me his mate!Hate.
What is their palace?Malice.
What are their crowns?Frowns.
Show me the way!Nay;
One from above,Greater than Wrath,Stands in thy path.Who is he?—Love!
THE PLOUGHMAN
The upper and the lower springs,The summer-fountains fail;A frowning sky his challenge flingsWith thunder through the hail;The autumn holds her mantle-foldsTo veil a pallid brow—She pities me and mourns to seeMy pain upon the plough:For I must down the furrow fareAnd cleave the clod with sharpened share.
Witless of wind that finds my face,I lean against the blastAnd plough to my appointed place—Yon sapling like a mast;I plough this way till shut of day,Steady upon the mark;Reckless of cold, the handles holdFrom dawn until the dark—This thing my duty: cleave the clod,Ploughing the field alone with God!
DEAR LITTLE MAID OF DREAM
Dear little Maid of Dream,My heart, dear Heart, is breaking;Things are not what they seem,And sorrow comes with waking!
I yearn to hold you fast,My Dream, but then comes waking;The silver moment past,And then—the sad leave-taking!
Dear little Maid of Dream,My heart, dear Heart, is breaking!
THE VIOLET TO THE ASTER
Said the Violet to the AsterAll on a summer's day:"Your colour is the same as mine,Come marry me, I pray;Your bridesmaids shall be lilies,A rose the vested priest,And harebells ring the changesTo call us to the feast."
Said the Aster to the Violet:"What shall the dowry be,And what my stated fortune,If I should marry thee?""Your fortune?" sang the Violet,"The fragrance of my breath!"The Aster swayed and murmured:"I will be yours till death!"
MAGIC
There is magic on the meadowAnd a witch has won the wood,Elfin laughter from the waterAs it rolls a rhythmic flood;For a spirit meets my spiritWith a flash of iris-wings,And all the world's a gardenGlad with many blossomings!
THE KING AND THE MAID
"O love"—cried the KingOn a day in spring,As he went through the leafy wood—"I must be awayTo the court this day!"And he threw back the purple hoodFrom his royal browThat was paling nowWith the pain of the parting hour:For the maid was dear,And her lips were nearTo his lips, like a crimson flower.
"I shall be aloneOn a gilded throneIn the midst of my nobles all;From my diademTo my garment's hem,I shall ache for your light footfall:'Tis no little thing,Dear, to be a kingWith love of a man for a maid,And to play the partWith an empty heart,Like a scabbard without its blade."
But the maid was wise,And her hazel eyesWere brave with the light of her love:"God save thee, my King,From great suffering,Grant thee of His grace from above!Canst thou play thy partWith an empty heart,If I fill it full to the brimOf the wine of prayerFrom the bowl I bear?"And his eyes with the tears were dim!
"On that ivory throneShalt thou be alone,If my thoughts are a-wing to thee;If upon thy browThat is paling now,My lips mark where the crown shall be?"So the King rode southFrom her crimson mouthThrough the forest, field and the fells;And his voice was strongWith words of a songTo a chime of the bridle-bells.
A WOMAN'S PRAYER
God of the heaven and earth,Bring to the birthSoul of the man that I love;From the Above,
Send Him the light of Thy face;Grant to him grace,Brave in the battle, his shieldNever to yield!
God of the zephyr and gale,That is a nailHolding the hand of my dreamHard to the beam!
God of the good Paraclete,Both of his feetBleed while the sentinels tossDice near a cross!
God of the magic of morn,Crimsoning thornCrowns him! Oh, hark to his cry:"Sabachthani?"
God of the laughter and tear,That is a spearStained with the red drops that startUnder his heart!
God of the glamour and gloom,Into the tombLow is he laid; see, a stoneLeaves me alone!
God of the lily and vine,Is he not mine?Balms for his body I bear,Myrrh for his hair.
Love! who rolled the stone away?Bright as the day,Shineth thy brow, and thy faceGleams with a grace
Caught from the whispering wingsOf One who sings:"There is no death!" Lo, the tombBreaks into bloom!
God of a woman's wide love,Under, above,Over the earth there is lightSprung from the night;
Now is the heart of me filled,Soul of me stilled;Glad of Thy shepherding care,Answering prayer!
FOEMAN
I standWith drawn sword in my handTo faceYou for a space—
You! You!Comrade, can this be trueThat IMust yield or die?
Those eyes,Gray like November skies,I feelSharper than steel....
One wordBefore sword clash on swordAnd sternWrath in us burn
RecallThe swift footfallAnd mirth,When the awakened earth
Grew gladOf what we had—Love, life,Not this tremendous strife.
Rose-redPetals were shedWith bloomOf lilies in that room,
Where weStood silentlyAnd heardHeart-music stirred
On chordsBy minstrel LordsWhose wingsMoved to the strings.
Why—whyDared we to try,To proveOur love?
Wrong! Wrong!When we knew songAnd lightAnd spirit-might.
So nowWith paling browAnd setHard lips, we two are met
To kill!Ah, would your willMake mineAs grapes bruised for the wine?
Seek youTo run me through?I takeMy sword and break
The blade—Strike! I have madeOf it a cross,Counting that loss
Which holdsMe from your garment-folds:The signProves me forever thine;
Proves that I giveSelf that our love may live!
GERAINT
Open, dear Lady, the little red door—The little red door to me!Night is all cold and my feet are sore;I have made a long journey.
Leagues have I travelled, the mountains crossedEager for love of thee;Lady, I fear that thy love is lost:Open thy heart to me!
Open thy heart and I will go inThe red door silently;There I shall find what I seek to win,Dear Lady, thy love for me!
GRIEF
My heart is pain,My spirit dearth;Tears are the rainUpon the earth:And all the over-clouded skyIs not more darkened than am I.
A while agoI watched the snow,And laughed to seeIts witchery;Now that your face is turned away,Winter's white magic melts from day.
The casement wide,This wan Yuletide,I opened—heardOne little birdA-piping on a crystalled bough,But he will pipe no longer now;
For when he sawThe stricken aweUpon my face,He left his placeAnd winged into the upper air—My visaged grief he could not bear.
A little child,By me beguiledBut yesterdayFrom busy play,This morning hurried from these eyes—He could not look where courage dies!
Under the sunTwo selves are one:Sorrow and I!Oh, let me die,And never meet the month of May—Now that your face is turned away!
THE EMPTY ROOM
Out of the storm I hurry inTo find an empty room;I call and call, but no footfallAnswers across the room:Vainly your eyes I seek to win,You are not here! O dear—my dear,There is no sound and stir of you!I know not what to do.
I know not what to do or say,I stand with vacant stareUpon the brink of pain to think:"Love, whither dost thou fare?"An echo answers: "Gone away!"Your roses red their petals shedUpon the book of verse I gave,Like tears down on a grave!
LOVE ETERNAL
Let us walk together, lass,(Lean upon me—so!)Through the field of feathergrass(How the daisies grow!)Till we find the word to sayWhat is in our hearts to-day.
Yes, I loved you from the first.Dear, there is surpriseBlent with hunger and with thirstIn your eager eyes,And you whisper: "Is it true?"—Knowing that I always knew!
Let me tell you how it came:Voices through the room;Then one spoke to me your name(Take this wild rose bloom—I will place it in your hair)And of you I was aware.
"She is of a slender grace,Like my Maid of dreams!"To myself I said—"Her faceWith that beauty gleams—Beauty of that One I knowIn the Land of Long-Ago!"
Did you, dearest, understandWhy the scarlet grewOn my forehead, when my handYour fair fingers knew?Oh, the world went very stillWhile on me you worked your will!
Worked your will? Do not deny;For your heart was wise—Ah, you shake your head and tryVainly to disguiseWhat was on your lips to sayWhen we met that fateful day!
For from all eternityWe are pledged to love,Bound in all our lives to beTrue to what aboveAll the turmoil and the dinStrives that starry tryst to win.
Sit with me upon this stoneUnderneath the bough;Let the blossoms to us blownLearn our ancient vow—Vow we made before the starsStrove to break Night's prison-bars.
Lift your head and meet my gaze.Do you not recallSomewhere in a golden haze,Vistaed vast, a hallPaved with diamond and domedBlue above a fount that foamed
With the water from the wellGuarded, so they say,By the angel Israfel?Water of eternal blissSprinkled on the lips that kiss!
There we lived before the sunsLed the planets up;There we pledged the winged OnesIn a crystal cup,Ere we left that pillared homeThrough the field of Time to roam.
"Why," you ask me, dearest, "whyDid we leave that place—Is it such a thing to die?"Ponder for a space:What if love must lose to gain,Find eternal peace in pain?
"But I want the Ever-Now!"Dear, do you not knowThey who drive the patient ploughAnd the furrows sow,Own the sinews of the strong—Reap the harvest with a song?
"Let the scattered fragments beGathered from the feast,Nothing lost"; thus speaketh HeWho is Love's High Priest,And He knows who from a crossPledged return for every loss.
Thus, my Maid of long ago,Here within the fieldLet me tell what you would know:How I came to yieldTo your eyes, your lips, your hair,When the guests were gathered there
In the room that day we met,Found amid the talkLight of ancient suns which setÆons ere the chalkCliffs of Dover gleamed uponMerchant-prows from Babylon.
Love and Life eternal are,Fill unfathomed space,Bind with rapture star to star,Gleam from every face,Soar with angels, plunge to hell:Lucifer and Israfel!
So above the choric spheres,At the knees of GodYou and I beyond the yearsKissed, then clove the clodWith our spirit's sundered flame;Till amid the talk your name
Fell seraphic, smote me throughWith unearthly pain:I was I and you were you—Met on earth again,Bound to live and bound to loveBy that oath we made above!
AFTER THE FEAST
I have drunk deeply of the cup,Fared well and fed;The guests with whom I sat to sup,Are gone to bed:A broken harp lies on the floor,Its tangled strings will sound no more—The wine-stained linen I deplore.
Here is a little trampled rose,A violet;Here is a hyacinth, and thoseAre mignonette:They looked so proudly from their place,First at the feast—with tears I traceNow but a vestige of that grace.
Upon the table is a crown—Where is the King?The little leaves that tremble down,Cover a ring;A vase of crystal shattered liesAgainst a goblet, where the wiseTalked through the laughter. How time flies!
It is not very long ago,Here in the hall,When to the tapers' tangled glowThe rise and fallOf voices over nuts and wineMurmured like wind through leaf and vine;And there was joy of me and mine.
I snuff the tapers one by one.The darkness falls.Alas, for feasting and for fun!My madrigalsAre ended. I will not againSing. Sound of wind and weeping rainIs now the interlude of pain!
Yet it was good to know the feast,To be a guest;Though at the table I was leastAmong the best.Blindly I grope unto the door,Gather a flower from the floor—I will come back here never more!
What! Never more go gladly back?Ah, foolish me!When down the winding starry trackThe company,With laughter their lord following,Shall yet return to greet the KingWho claims the crown and wears the ring!
And though I have put out each light,Gathered one flower,Bravely I fare forth into night—What is an hour,A day, a year, if, after allThe silence, those dear comrades call,And there is harping in the hall?
I wait the summons; gladly goAgainst the rain;They will be seated row on rowHere once again:And in that brave, loved companyWhat song and laughter there will be,When I resume my minstrelsy!
THE LONELY ROAD
O will you take the lonely road,The upward road,Among the many stars?Its pavement is by Pain bestowed,Your feet shall find the scars!Your feet shall know the scars, my friend:It is a path without a bend.
It leadeth not by pastures green,Through meadows green,Nor near the little hills;Gaunt granite cliffs it runs between,Dark Fear that chaos fillsWith cloud and storm and shadowingsOf vigilant unfolded wings.
It windeth not along the streams,The laughing streams;It leadeth straight and farBeyond the mirrored pool of dreamsIn peril to a star:Who comes this way must go alone,Steadfast and strong nor making moan.
It is the path called Perilous,Named Perilous,The path that heroes treadWho hear the cry: "O come with us!"—Brave voices of the dead—For they are compassed by a throngOf Harpers harping to a song:
Follow afarPast cliff and scar,Finding your star!
Brave in the night,Up to the light,Proving your might!
Though the foot fail,And the heart wail;Though the brow pale;
Follow afarWhere the gods are,Finding your star!
Along this way Lord Jesu went,Christ Jesu went;Hither came Socrates,And all who were with tears forspent—The shining companiesOf those who lifted high the heartBeyond the lure of any mart.
And would you fare this lonely way,This starry way?Take but a scrip and staff,With sandals for your feet, to-day;Though fools in folly laugh,Deriding that you leave the less—Their idle dream of happiness!
If you would find the way of wings,Wide-open wings,That lift one to a star,You must be free from hamperingsOf lock and bolt and bar;Cast care of gold and silk asideWith pomp of place and rank and pride.
If on your path there be a cross,A wayside cross,With nails and sponge and spear,A gambling Guard who turn to tossDice for the robe you wear;Avoid not that appointed place,Though thorns with crimson stain your face!
But if you take this road, my friend,My wistful friend,Your world will wake to song,And all high, holy angels bendTo hail you of their throng:And where the Sons Eternal are,You shall be throned upon your star.