This eBook is a reproduction produced by the National Library of New Zealand from source material that we believe has no known copyright. Additional physical and digital editions are available from the National Library of New Zealand.
EPUB ISBN: 978-0-908327-59-1
PDF ISBN: 978-0-908330-55-3
The original publication details are as follows:
Title: Soundings
Author: Marsyas
Published: Coulls Somerville Wilkie, Dunedin, N.Z., 1931
SOUNDINGS
VERSES BY THE SAME WRITER
Messrs. Coulls Somerville Wilkie, Ltd. have pleasure in announcing that they have made arrangements to publish complete the Verses of " Marsyas."
Already published —
“ Eggs and Olives.”
To appear shortly —
“ Pedlar’s Pack.”
In preparation —
“ Flax and Fernseed ”
Soundings
MARSYAS
COULLS SOMERVILLE WILKIE LIMITED
CRAWFORD STREET
DUNEDIN, N.Z.
WRITER’S NOTE
Marsyas desires to express his gratitude, and trusts that he may also express the gratitude of his readers, to his life-long friend Sir Thomas Sidey, thanks to whose generosity this handsome edition of his verses sees the light.
%* The greater portion of the verses in this volume appeared in Tlie Otago Daily Times, 19081909, Advent Hymn in the same journal three years later, the remainder in Stiama'a, Papyrus, and The Datum
5
Beneath 11
TO Kubelik 12
Maitreya 13
"Heaven's Perfect Way " 17
Victors 20
Eóncpe, névta øépwv 21
De Se 22
Rebirth 25
Song 26
Enough 28
Robe Royal 30
Worship 31
Hyssop 33
Et Violenti 34
"As Thyself" 36
Full Circle 38
Furlough 40
Viaticum 44
A Fable 45
Aborima 47
Loyal 50
Contents
Contents
Bounds 51
Isolde 52
God-Gift
Ibant Obscuri 56
God-Speed 57
Aere Perennius 58
Mirrorings 59
Evensong 60
Tamen Usque 63
Submission 65
Scena 66
Creta Notandus Dies 68
lis Radicibus 69
"Maid Moon" 71
Pause 73
Dunedin on an Early Autumn Day 74
Nisi Prius Moriatur 77
False Prophets 79
Lakshmi 82
Self-Exiled 83
Tiberias 84
Growth 85
Nadir 86
Nishkama 88
Again 89
Amores et Deliciae Tuae 90
Fantasie 91
Au Supplice 92
6
7
Contents
Neque Ex Ordine 94
Attainment 95
To Woman 96
Gemara 97
Delusion 98
Axylus 99
"Time and the Hour" 101
What of the Night? 102
Artemisia 104
Contra Stimulum 105
Uma 106
Her Song 107
Domino Suo 109
The Swan of Avon 110
A Ballad of Holy Rood 111
De Gustibus 122
Guerdon 123
No. 124
Upasaka 128
The Wizard 130
The Whirligig of Time 132
In Season Due 133
The Accepted Time 134
To Annie Besant 136
The Secret 137
Sicut Ethnici 139
The End 141
Companions' March Song 142
8
Contents
Fata Morgana 144
Advent Hymn 145
Reveille 152
Divine Oblivion 153
To a Brave Woman 155
The Crowning Grace 156
O Magna Templa Coelitum 157
Maya 160
Bethesda 161
A Face 162
A Birthday Greeting 164
To Ada Crossley 165
Mid-Year 166
Fetterless 16 0
All-Conquering Love 171
A Farewell Word 172
A la Soldate 174
"The Might of Gentleness" 175
Amritsar 178
The Liberator 179
To One Beset 18l
Manna 182
The Venus of Milo 184
Renewal 185
The Secret of the Sea 187
On New Year's Eve 189
SOUNDINGS
Beneath
OVER the ocean the zephyrs play, And the nautilus glides, full sail ;
And many a ship speeds fast and free,
Bending her proud tops gracefully,
To the wooing of the gale.
Over the ocean the storm-blasts tear,
Till the gray wave strikes the cloud ;
And the broken bark goes eddying down
In the gloomy gulf neath the heavens' frown
While the ghoul of wreck laughs loud
But little we know of the waters, we,
Till the men of lead and line
Solve us a tithe of their mystery, shew
Strange gleams of the limitless life below
With their soundings : here are mine.
16
To Kubelik
A RTIST supreme, who with thy subtle lure Takest the shy soul captive at thy will,
Drawing it softly, softly, softly till
Out from its earthen hiding-place in pure
Delight it slips, and hovering unsure
Awhile, soon spreads strong wing and soars, and still
Soars on the wonder of thy notes, a-thrill
With bliss too aching-perfect to endure-*
Artist supreme, from rapture of that flight
Still quivering, at thy knee we bend us low
In wordless homage ; speech were all too slight
To tell the burden of our thought; yet know,
O marvellous man that bore us to the height,
We be thy bondslaves wheresoe'er thou go
17
Maitreya
THE world grows weary : when shall he be born Who age by age hath saved her perishing !
Ever she climbeth ; ever that within
Her heaving bosom yearneth unto that
Without, self unto self, deep answering deep ;
And ever as the wheeling days go by,
Like Sisyphus she plungeth down, down, down
Exanimate into the black abyss,
Whence with return to tortured sense, her cry
Ascends to the far spaces of the heavens
And he himself comes forth, the Lord of all—- —
Aja, achyuta, eka, akshara
Unborn, immortal, sole, unperishing !
Not as the Lord of worlds in blinding blaze
Of love consummate cometh he, but 10.
Tenderly wrappeth him in human flesh,
And, entering the strait chamber of the womb —
Hail! O pure womb he chooseth—lieth hid.
Even as we, long months of growing wonder,
Resteth at length, even as we, close-drawn
By arms of utter love, on Maya's breast —
18
Maitreya
Man, very man, that man unshent may look
And, looking, learn and live. Yea, in his smile,
Lit with the inextinguishable flame
Of love divine, earth's misery melts and runs
Like ice in joyous springtide ; and she sig]
The soft sigh of one waked from evil dream
And smiles a slow smile back to him ; and soon,
Tenderness breeding tenderness, her heart
Glows suddenly within her, and she falls
In happy flood of weeping at his feet.
Then, lifted by his gracious hand, her eye
Filled with new light, and on her lip a song,
She turns her to the sky y-pointed peak-.
And climbs —and climbs !
O thou compassionate.
O thou who troddest the whole bitter wav,
And, overcoming, wert enthroned there
Whence thou and all have come ! O hear us now
As from the depths we cry to thee ! O come,
Come as thou earnest in the ages past
To save thy world ! O, lay thy splendours by
The robe of woven flame from out the sea,
The shoreless sea of fire that sinks and swell
Stirred by the ebbing, flowing of the breath —
How can we reach thee so empanoplied
In shafts of living light, how know thee kind ?
Come, O compassionate Lord, to us who fear
Thy awful beauty, veiled in the form
19
20
Maitreya
Our little human lives have made most dear —
Man among men. Tread these our common ways,
Smile on us, speak with us, yea, sit at meat
At these our tables in mere friendliness
Till all the wonder of that love and grace
Constrain us, and in passion of wild joy
We fling us, O beloved, at thy feet.
Ho ! ye who watch the heavens evermore
From all earth’s sacred mounts—is there no sign
Of his appearing ? Breaks there yet no star
In gorgeous spilth of light against the blue ?
Nay—none. Yet soon, O, very soon shall earth
Gaze on that glory, and the whisper run
Swift through the startled lands. "Thus," men shall say,
“ Thus have we heard it was of old, and thus.
“ Cry all the prophets, ever will it be
“ When the Lord visiteth his peoples : 10,
“ Let us search out his birthplace, and adore ! ”
And some will search and find, and nations all
Shall know that that towards which their age-long life
All blindly strove hath come at unawares :
Bud will burst sudden into glorious bloom,
And O, the fragrance! O, the loveliness !
The world grows weary : come, Maitreya, come !
Surely her cry hath risen to thine ear.
21
Maitreya
Pierced through the shrouding splendours to the still
Small flame where all thou ever wert burns on
In deathless miracle ; and as of old
The brooding love of thee will conquer thee,
And thou wilt come, and as beneath her wings
A hen her chickens gathereth, so thou
O Christ, wilt gather in thine own—come, come
“Heaven’s Perfect Way”
THE lookt for guest nor came, nor vouchsafed sign, So after nights and days of loving thought,
And tender preparation, and sweet thrills
Of human anxiousness, the chamber stood
Empty and lone and still. The hours went by
And Estelle brooded on her love despised,
Her sacrifice rejected ; and her wound
Grew ever, and the silence throbbed with pain.
One night she sank to sleep heart-sore, and wan
In spirit as in cheek, her pillow wet
With unrestrained tears, her wearied frame
Still shaken with her sobbing. But toward morn
She wakened wide-eyed, calm, and yet alive
In every singing pulse and nerve of her
With reasonless unrest. She rose and threw
A soft white gown about her, passed adown
The hall all purposeless, when 10, from out
Each chink and cranny of that guestless room
Shone an unearthly radiance, lovelier
Than mountain mist lit by a hidden sun,
Or luminous snow-field in mid-air aglow.
22
‘‘Heaven’s Perfect Way”
Trembling, yet all unable to refrain,
She sought the latch with eager fingers tense,
Entered and looked upon the bed, and fell
Upon her knees adoring. There he lay
Upon the humble trestle. Fine gold hair,
A glory of twined sunbeams, framed that face
Of perfect beauty, pure as sifted snow
On virgin peaks soft kist by new-born day ;
And O, the wondrous curving of those lips
That even in his sacred slumber smiled
While unimagined splendours came and went
In endless palpitation rhythmical
Long dumb with joy—" Dear Lord!" at length she sighed,
And his eyes opened, flooding with their light
The light that was, and drowning all her being—
Body, mind, soul, and self—in utter bliss.
" Daughter," he said, and rose, " it was most sweet
" Of thee thus to prepare a place for me
" I have slept well." She clasped the lotus feet
" O Master, bless me not! 'Twas not for thee
" I made the chamber ready, but for one '
" Child,'' broke the gentle accents, while the hand
Just toucht the bowed head blessingly, " have I
" Been so long with thee and thou hast not known ?
" That thou hast done unto the least of these
" My brethren, thou hast done it unto me,
The gentle voice ceased, and the light grew dim,
23
“Heaven’s Perfect Way”
And when she dared to raise her eyes once more
The holy one had passed. But all that day
Music was in the air, and the whole house
Was fragrant with sweet spices and the scent
Of dew-washt violets, and perfect peace
Dwelled with her may it dwell so ever more !
24
Victors
THEY rowed them far o'er the lapping wave Down the flashing sunset track;
Then he whispered low, " Mine own, art brave ? "
“ As thyself,” she whispered back.
" Mine own," he said, " see the springing leak—
We shall never make the shore " ;
And never a word did the maiden speak
As she turned from her useless oar.
She stretched her hands to her own true love, :
She was claspt in a last embrace
He saw not the marvellous skies above—
He saw but her lovelit face,
They smiled as the rising tide struck chill ;
Life, death —'twas to them all one !
Down went the sun neath the purpling hill,
And they sank with the sinking sun
25
'Eonepe, návta øépwv-
To G. B. L.
LOVE, love and love, thou sangest, Sappho sweet; Love, love and love, till heart of very stone
Answered thy rushing rapture in its own
Dim way ; and still thou sangest till the beat,
Beal, beat of thy mad music struck to heat
That first slow pulsing, soon by magic grown
To glow, to flame, upsoaring like thine own—
Earth’s best, heaven’s downward-streaming best to meet
Love, love, thou sangest, Sappho, whom love sent
From his glad sphere where earth's great lovers are ;
9
Love that is first and last and whole content
Of this his world ; the bright, the morning star,
And Hesper, marvel of the firmament,
That “ gathereth all the glimmering dawn flung far.’
26
De Se
PEACE, friends, the man is dead. If he did wrong Why, let the evil be : what boots it seize
The brazen trump of rumour, cry aloud
111-doing to the winds ? Serve so our kind ?
I trow not. All too used, alas, man's ear
To such ignoble trumpetings, forbear !
Spread silence o'er his failure, soft, O soft
As snow from out a windless heaven ; breathe
No littlest word, even to your inmost hearts,
In the still dark o' nights, when phantoms mock
And solidest is dream. If he did wrong,
Forget : God’s over all; be very sure
He will repay. Earth’s laws some guilty wretch
May flout, but ’scape heaven’s swerveless justice ? No
'Scape ! Nor shall we who play with name and fame,
And at the instance of the idle tongue
Blast him with sorry judgment, whom 'twere well
We had the wit to mould us on ; who stood,
Stands, and shall stand, despite our calumnies,
Sans pew et sans reproche. Back through the years,
Back through the tireless years—how they proclaim
His virtue and his valour ! Ay, we, too,
Shouted among the shouters, gladly paid
27
De Se
Man’s homage to the man that teaches man
Afresh what man may be; to-day we stand
Traitors to our best selves; would give the lie
To all that rich, warm, human reverence
That bore clear witness to the hero’s worth.
Circe, thy cup still sparkleth ; still man drinks
And falls to brutish impercipience!
If he did wrong—who knows ? Who that has fought
With beasts at Ephesus, and staggered back
From the wild last rally, shouting brokenly
His " Ave Cxsar ! " dare condemn who fell,
Rent by the pitiless claw ? Who that hath groped
The blind length of his own heart's catacomb,
Panted at unawares, to light—light—light
Aching upon the eyeball, dare condemn
Who fell one turn from day ? God ! are we ape*.
To mop and mowe, and pelt each other husks,
Or men, majestically crowned of mind
Won from the great inert by tortured nerve
And drip of very life-blood ? Verily,
Men are we, tinglingly alive this hour
To all that desperate horror whence emerged
The prize of peace. Then let us judge as men
A fallen brother, every inch a man.
Think, O my brothers : one day, it is said,
All secrets shall be told. We shall be there—
You, I, and all of us who peep and peer
Into yon open grave, and add our say
To the thousand wanton sayings. What if then,
28
De Se
As from the housetop rolls at last the why
Of this self-slaughter, we, one cowering shame.
Learn hero first, and hero all life long,
Was hero last, and never hero more
Than when, most sure of heaven's escapeless law
And the swift harvest of his deed ; aware
Of the world's cynic smile about his corpse
Knowing, and all but over-mastered by
Her grief whose heart his death would wring, he fought
His last and greatest fight; and, seeing clear
That one thing none shall know until the end,
Chose death, dishonour, and the ceaseless tear
For it was right to die ? My brothers, think —
There were no place to hide us then ! Self-scorn
Would have its fiery way with us who stood
In light of God’s intolerable eyes
It shall not be, that shame—it shall not be :
For from that future doom-fire shoots one ray-
Down on the thing our heart had all but shaped—
One ray, and see, the vileness shrivels off,
And, thrilling core to sheath with utter thanks
To him that saveth so, we turn again,
And 10, the hero that we loved, one clear,
Glad, joyous radiance as of old—a man
That teaches man afresh what man may be !
So be he shrined while England, whom he loved
England, our gracious mother England, dures
29
Rebirth
OTHE earth is springing, springing, , After parching months of drought.
And the cool, gray clouds are winging
From the soft, soft south ;
All greenly flush the hillsides
The valleys and the plains,
While the cattle bv the rillsides
Low their welcome to the rains-
While the cattle by the rillsides
Low their welcome to the rains.
O, my heart is singing, singing.
After weary- nights and days,
And the fairest flowers are ringing
All life's hard, hard ways ;
The birds make glad the morrow,
From the rough rock honey drips ;
My belov’d hath healed my sorrow
With the kisses of his lips—
My belov'd hath healed my sorrow
With the kisses of his lips.
30
Song
(Writ to a quaint and frolic musick.)
I.
O MISERY , Confined to be
To such a world as this is !
Bright yesterday
Is fled away,
And dead are all its blisses.
The merry wind
Hath changed his mind
Canst hear his mournful booing,
O, drear, drear, drear !
And I sit here
My wretchedness a-ruing
For never yet was joy on earti
But fate hath strangled it at birth ;
Tears follow hard on careless mirth :
And life is nothing-worth
26
Song
11.
O, wake my heart;
A peevish part
And little ’tis thou playest;
Ope now thine eyes—
How blue the skies
That were but now the grayest
Hark ! chants the still
Air blithely fill-
Un-stop thine ears and hear them ;
Forget thine ache.
Sweet music make,
Go, seek sad souls and cheer them
For never yet was grief on earth,
But fate hath strangled it at birth ;
Tears pass, and hearts fill full with mirth
'Tis death that's nothing-worth !
32
Enough
THE weeping willows are green with buds, At their feet the brooklet croons ;
Soft is the park and whispering These quiet afternoons :
Hidden I wait
the wicket gate
That will ope for my love eftsoons
She comes ! I know by the sudden hush
Of my heart that has throbbed so long
She comes ! for the bird-notes flood the air
In a burst of sweeter song ;
She comes, and I dare But breathe a prayer
That I speak not, to her wrong.
She stands in the gateway and looks afar
Down the path I trod, my sweet!
With her still eyes, gray as a pool at eve,
And I am at her feet!
God hold thy glance,
Lest it fall perchance
On one whom thou must not meet
33
Enough
Gone ! Speed, ye hours, that once more she come ;
»
Speed, time, while I stirless lie,
Till the hush of my heart and the bird’s glad song
Shall warn me she is nigh
Whom I love with my whole
Man's heart and soul,
In silence, till I die.
The weeping willows are green with buds,
At their feet the brooklet croons ;
Soft is the park and whispering
These quiet afternoons;
Hidden I wait
the wicket gate
That will close on my love eftsoons.
34
Robe Royal
VESTURED superbly, see, she stands Who veilless came :
My kisses wove those flickering strands
Of rosy flame
35
Worship
OIT'S roses, roses, and roses—- , And roses—and roses still,
A-bloom in my lady’s garden
That lies on the westering hill :
Roses and roses—tumbling,
And turning, and leaning down,
Their hearts afire
With the one desire —
Ah me!
To touch, if the wanton wind
Be kind
The hem of my lady’s gown.
O, it’s flax, flax, flax
It’s flax like the heart of heaven
A-bloom in my lady’s garden :
Under the ngaios seven
O, it’s flax, and flax—a-spraying
Round step, and shrub, and tree
And like bairns that race
To the soft, safe place—
Ah me!
It bends, and quivers, and glides
And hides
In the folds about her knee.
36
Worship
O, it's bracken so red and rusty,
And grasses, and fragile fern
That spring in my lady's garden
Wherever her dear eyes turn ;
The bracken nods, and the grasses
Thrill, and the ferns the while
Stretch them to meet
Those gracious feet—
Ah me !
And rise, and laugh at the breath
Of death,
For they live in my lady’s smile
O my lady, my lady, my lady—
My lady—my lady sweet;
She walks in her wonderful garden :
For God’s own presence meet
Witching with purest magic
The gentle growing things,
Till their blind souls stir
And reach out to her—
Ah me !
Hearest thou not —so quaint—
The faint
First flutter of their wings ?
37
Hyssop
OTHE wholesome, purging south-west wind, , And the hilltops where it blows
From over the free
Unsullied sea
And the stainless sifted snows !
How it strippeth away, like a surgeon-god
With his knife that cutteth keen,
All the morbid thought
That the day hath wrought,
And leaveth the spirit clean!
I square me ; full-face I meet its sweep.
And the petty life of men,
The foolish prate
And the trivial hate
Drop off; lam born again !
I am born again : with a child’s quick love,
See, I turn me to my kind ;
And my heart leaps light
As the cloud-rack white
That rides on the riot wind.
38
Et Violenti
UP to the hilltops, and over the plain, The tameless bugles blow;
Swathed in soft sunshine, or lashed by the rain,
Forward, the troops they go.
Some would have stayed, for the camp was sweet
Some there were, longed for rest ?
Little thou knowest the thoughts that beat
And surge in a soldier's breast
Camp—and the call of the wild unheard !
Rest—and the glorious game
Left for . . . Go to ! when the soul hath stirred
At the sound of his august name,
Who ruleth this half-won race of earth
For his own high ends unguessed,
And biddeth them out and prove their worth
What recketh a man of rest!
Celestial music, the bugle call;
" Forward ! " a voice divine ;
It holdeth the soldier's heart in thrall,
It burneth his brain like wine.
39
Et Violent!
Dead the soft home-song evermore,
And, till those rhythms cease,
Danger his safety, need his store,
And strife his only peace.
Knoweth he not what the end shall be,
Careth he not at all;
Only he followeth passionately
The voice and the bugle-call
Gladdened with vision of golden grain,
Blinded by sweeping snows.
Swathed in soft sunshine, lashed by the rain
On, on, and on he goes
40
“As Thyself”
WHAT have we been each to each, O soul— O soul that dost melt in mine—
In the ages past, ere the onward roll
Of sphere upon sphere divine
Brought us to this new resting-place,
This stage of the star-strewn way,
Where the old love breaks with an added grace
From the forms of a later day ?
Brother and sister, and lover and friend
Husband, wife, daughter, son—
Endless the loves that their sweetness lend !
To this large love we have won
And earlier still —what the bond that tied
So surely young soul to soul,
That now we fare ever side by side
To the glory that is our goal ?
Ah, me ! There were passions wild and strong
There was heritage of pain—
Wanton the will and deep the wrong
That forged this breakless chain ;
Ay, far in the murk of the birth of men
Doubtless we hated well.
And tortured, and slew, and were slain again,
Till slowly from that hot hell
41
“As Thyself”
Our linked souls climbed to the purer air,
The coolth of the fields above—
To frank good-will and to friendship fair :
And at long, long last to love:
Love, wherein goodwill, friendship, all
The separate sun-rays bright,
By the lense of sacrifice blended, fall
In a splendour of heavenly light
O, many the pans that await us two
As the perfect cycles wheel,
And again and again shall we troth renew
When the time and the place reveal;
For all depths must be plumbed, heights scaled, O soul—
O soul that art truly me —
Ere we tread earth's stage in man's greatest role
Of incarnate deity :
But never, O, never, the light shall fade
Of the large love we have won,
Till the Lord unmake all this he made,
And the Day of Brahm be done.
42
Full Circle
AT the water-gate thou standest. the dear accustomed place,
Still pulsing with the shock of sweet surprise ;
O, the quick lift of thy bosom, O, the soft glow of thy face.
And O, the starry welcome in thine eyes
’Twas good, ’twas good to leave thee, to follow fate afar.
Through days of strife and nights of hot alarms ;
To tread the slimy places where leering devils are,
If this the end—thy proud, outstretched arms !
Good, good to lie untended, drawing sharp the cruel breath ;
To beg ; to starve ; to climb the mountain crest
With bleeding feet, half-frozen ; to play a match with death,
If this the prize—the comfort of thy breast!
O my lady, take me, take me, washen clean of idiot pride,
Thine utterly, if thou wilt not disdain ;
Thine utterly, or sitting crowned and sceptered by thy side,
Or but the last and lowest of thy train
43
Full Circle
Thou smilest, O my lady, like the sunlit, shimmering sea,
Thou raisest me upon my feet; fast, fast
Thou hold’st my hesitant hands, and nearer, nearer
drawest me,
Till heart on heart throbs sudden : home at last!
44
Furlough
HOLIDAY hours, O, holiday hours ! The Gods, the dear, bountiful Gods be blest,
The all-watchful, kindly, mothering Powers,
Who offer their little ones gift of rest
Who coax them away
From their work to play
On the flat sea-sand or the mountain’s crest
Whispering softly the ancient hymn
That the one is all and the all is one;
Filling their freed hearts up to the brim
With life as the joy-packt minutes run.
Holiday hours, O, holiday hours !
Up and away, for the morn is fair ;
Sweet is earth's breath from last night's showers,
And like wine is the re-born air,
Up and away
For a whole long day
Of joyance—was ever a thing called care ?
Through the green bush, down the valley green,
O’er the green, green slopes to the meeting-place,
Where the quivering life of the whole glad scene
Finds its heart in the magic of a face.
45
Furlough
Away by the cable , the city nears ;
We pass through the crowds in the busy street,
Unmoved, untoucht by their hopes and fears—
Earth taketh no print of our winged feet
Then the car once more
To the dune-ringed shore,
And the flying sand, and the breakers’ beat.
One backward pitying glance at the town,
One long, long draught of each other’s eyes.
While the dear good Gods lean laughing down
From their home bevond the skies.
Then away and away round the bent-clad dunes,
rhrough gold-starred, feathery lupin-beds ;
By the stilf-rankt marram—the maddest tunes
Of the piping wind scarce tempt its head
To sway aside
From the dignified
Repose staid centuries have bred
Through stunted flax, over tussock brown,
By many a wilding flower fare we,
Till 10, the sudden hill slants down
To the level shore and the tumbling sea
Softly we foot it over the sand,
Its cool touch thrilling us through and through,
While body and mind and soul expand
As we gaze afar on the waters blue,
By the blue heaven kist
To a tender mist —
46
Furlough
Are they memories old, are they fancies new
That throng to the threshold and lean and peer
Yet run at a glance to their hidden cell ?
Still the light of the work-a-day world they fear
And an hour to come must the secret tell
Round the grim, gaunt headland ? The tide denies
See the boisterous billows mount and curl
And burst —how the snowy powder flies
While the rock-foiled waters backward swirl
The peril woos
But the hill we choose
Secure from the rush and splash and whirl
Up to the rough, red, rain-scarred waste
Breathless : a boulder offers seat,
So turn we awhile on the way we traced
And the world beneath our feet
Beautiful world, but it wanes, and pales
It melts in a mist and from out the gray
Breaks an older ; and over its hills and dale
Its dusks and its dawns we grope our w
And heart answers heart
As the shadows part
For one rare moment that gilds the da
One blinding moment of life supreme
Such as the blessed devas feel
Proving this world of form the dream
And the world eyes see not the only real
47
Furlough
Holiday hours, O, holiday hours —
Oases green in the desert heat;
Sweet with the odour of faery flowers.
With the drip of magical waters sweet
O, there is revealed
To the sense unsealed
Who standeth ever while all things fleet
And soul which is maker, and soul which is made
Melt each into each with divinest mirth ;
And anon, when the flashing splendours fade.
Man wakes to a re-created earth
48
Viaticum
WRAP the rent form in vestures white, and strew White flowers, earth's very fairest. Spot and stain
Are of earth only ; she hath passed beyond
Soon, soon they welcome her into that realm
Where no sad thing can enter; where no shade
Makes dun the day, no discord mars the song,
But life is lived in utter purity
White be the vestures, therefore, white the flowers
That grace the ruined temple, whose glad God
Hath made ascension to his land of light—
White like the mystic body of that sphere,
White like the life-streams of its purer sun,
White like the selfless love that fills our hearts,
Who go not yet, but joy our friend hath gone.
49
A Fable
THE Prince’s masons a palace wrought, And therein wondrous store
Of pearl and sapphire and gold he brought,
With many a marvel more.
At the portal he placed his daughters fair,
And whoso passed might feast
His hungering eyes on the treasures rare,
Be he greatest, be he least
A maiden came from a far, far land—
She was sweet and strong and true ;
And they gently led her by the hand
The lofty portal through
They led her many a marvel by,
Till at length her pity stirred—
“ These fair ? ” she cried with kindling eyes,
“ Ye have never seen my bird ! ”
50
A Fable
“ Thy bird ? ” said they. “My bird,” said she
“ Offer your gorgeous hall
And all these riches ye prize to me
For my bird, and I scorn them all !
" Show us thy bird," said they. " Alas !
In a distant clime he rests,
And yet for a season he may not pass
To his home between my breasts ;
" But when he comes I shall run," she cried,
" My bird on my heart to you
When ye set my wealth your wealth beside
Ye shall know I have spoken true.
The seasons rolled, and with step how light,
But loving eyes bent down.
The maiden bore to that palace white
Her bird so small and brown.
' See, see ! " But they coldly shook the head
'Tis no such wondrous thing !
Then her eyes grew large as she softly said
" Ye have not heard him sing.
51
Aborima
HOW fair a scene ! The graceful deodars, Dense macrocarpas, pines pyramidal,
Set bounds on left and right to the earthly view.
While the blue sky, with its gray trailing clouds
Filming to purest white, the hungry eye
Satisfies with its dreamy distances.
How exquisitely lovely everything !
The freshness and the growth of spring are swathed
In the luxurious heat of summer. All
The air's amove with tenderness : it steals
Along the meadows, o'er the close-rankt blades
Of whispering corn, up through the orchard rows
Of many-foliaged trees, three weeks ago
Marvels of snowy beauty ; hark ! above
Chatter the long laths of my cabbage palm,
Responsive to that gentle blandishment;
And now o’er cheek, and neck, and brow it slides
With indolent-insistent soft caress
That brings the warm blood up with sudden pulse,
And fills the frame with the delirious joy,
The tremulous ecstasy, of beauty's kiss —
Rapture which passeth, joy which lives for aye.
52
Aborima
Hark to that chir-r-r in the pines ! Some sturdy bird
That meeteth life half-way alone could sing
Strain so robust; and hark again—some lark’s
Heaven-hidden trill, that ever filters down
Through weft of sunbeams till it reach old earth
Purged of her stain and toucht with mystery,
A message unto men. List, all around.
The cheep and twitter of the songless crew
About day's business ; not the jubilance
Of that grand chorale to the mounting sun
When each his several share sustained with heart
Full nigh to bursting, palpitating throat,
And love-winged notes ; yet a sweet medley, full
Of mirth and cheer and homely joy. How boom
The blustering humble-bees from flower to flower
Bruising those delicate petals in their rough
And reckless search for treasure to bear off,
Like robber barons, to their secret cells;
How flit and hover bright-hued butterflies,
The aimless, easy, softly-living crew
That sip the sweets of love-in-idleness ;
While everywhere the glistening dragonflies
Pass and repass with graceful-earnest mien—
The knights, belike, of Flora's kingdom, bound
Afar on noble quest of chivalry.
Yonder sweet stocks are scenting all the air;
Here the eschscholtzia’s gorgeous orange cups
Glow from their fiery depths ; there’s deutzia,
The Ariel of blossoms, spirit-pure,
Daintily, delicately beautiful
53
Aborima
There is forget-me-not—O flower apart,
This is thy martyrdom, this hour of noon;
But when day waneth, and the twilight soft
Spreadeth her subtle charm on earth and air,
Then wilt thou wear thy crown of glory ; then
With what unearthly beauty wilt thou gleam,
Ethereal, strange, enchanting—flower apart!
There on the lawn's edge lingers yet the broom,
Scarce past the zenith of its perfectness
Hard by, a gorse clump of dull, dying gold,
See, the laburnum, with wild, awkward grace,
Wide-branching, hangs its precious droplets down
In quaint, precise profusion, row on row ;
While nearer, dearer than them all, behold
Those creamy buds so shyly peeping through
Their leafy lattices most maidenly.
Not yet aflaunt in conscious loveliness ;
And, burning on its bush like ruby flung
On emerald, one great red-hearted rose,
54
Loyal
THERE’S a wise and wondrous woman—list! In a far land dwelleth she;
One fault alone
Hath she ever known,
That she spendeth her soul on me.
Men name her thus, who lie at her feet
And thus, who adore apart
But I that have drunk of her utter sweet
I call her Jasmin-Heart
For delicate-fresh and starry-pure,
And dainty-fragrant she;
One tiny spot.
Her love —God wot!
Her love for me, for me
Men lie at her feet and rise and go;
Men adore till the pathways part
But I lie ever and ever—so,
On the breast of Jasmin-Heart
55
Bounds
SAY not I love thee not, who do not sing thee Though I have sung loves, many and many one.
Key of earth’s brilliance fifty fools can fling thee—
Hath any told the mystery of the sun ?
56
Isolde
i.
"QTRONG but untender, your Isolde, and keen, O But never kind ; most courteous, but yet cold :
Doing her charities so manifold
With the precision of a fine machine ;
Wasting no force unduly, certes —mean
Or mighty their exactest portion doled.
Yet is there neither joy nor love nor—" Hold,
My friend, no more ! She loveth—l have seen
A delicate spirit she, a spirit rare ;
To her ideals so tremulously true
That but by excess she errs. Too great her care
To wound no single living creature; too,
Too wholly gentle for our grosser air,
Her nature, fragrant-fresh of dawn and dew
11.
She loveth: I have seen in those veiled eyes—
Veiled lest some shrinking soul misread their thrill,
And gaze affrighted on imagined ill—
Glories they know alone, love maketh wise
57
Isolde
She joyeth : I have watcht light laughter rise
And flash and ripple o'er those cheeks so still—
Still lest their play the cup of torture fill
For one in voiceless agony that lies.
Strong, yes, and tender; keen, and also kind ;
Cold —nay, but warm with the primeval flame ;
Precise from equipoise of heart and mind.
Knowledge and love made one. No pride-walled dame,
Isolde, but lowliness inflesht; all blind
To the rosy radiance, beats about her name
58
God-Gift
A VOICE said “ Come ! ” Swift at the word I went, Not even wasting wonder at its call;
And evermore a marvellous content,
Gathering stilly, brooded over all
Earth sank, became a misty thing, and lo !
Sudden was not; and with its passing I
Reft utterly of foothold, at the blow
Swooned in the outstretcht spaces of the sky.
And when I woke again—how can I tell ?
A little nook in heaven, say, filled with mirth
So homely-happy, modest-pure, I fell
To pondering how heaven were so like earth
And round me softly, musically, came
And went five radiant spirits ; and I knew,
In some strange, more than earthy way, the flame
That burned in their he-arts burned in my heart too
59
God-Gift
I —l, the earth-soul, wandering afar
Across the spaces into that fair clime
Thrilled yet to the same music, bar for bar,
As they whose whole life answered to its chime
How long it lasted, that sweet day of grace,
I know not, care not; for, though I returned
Back through the spaces, back to mine own place,
Mine earth, neath its gray mists far-off discerned,
Somehow I seem to have brought o'er the abyss
The rhythms learned in that abode of peace ;
Earth hath new glory ; that life leans to this,
And all is miracle; nor shall it cease,
60
Ibant Obscuri
FAREWELL ! We go, we go we scarce know where; Farewell! We know not what our fate in store.
Save that, dear friends, and city passing fair
We never look upon your faces more—
We look not on your faces ever more ;
Farewell—farewell !
Farewell! Our life, it hath not been so sweet
That we shall soon forget when the sun shined
And ye—ah, ye have bathed our bleeding feet,
And bent upon us looks exceeding kind—
Healing, heart-warming looks exceeding kind
Farewell—farewell!
Farewell! Your images upon our hearts
We bear with us across the stormy strait;
O let your prayers, from this sad hour that pans.
At eve, at morn, besiege the golden gate—
For us, afar, besiege the golden gate
Farewell—farewell!
61
God-Speed
To T. H. M.
WHAT shall I wish thee for the year That comes ? That all thou holdest dear
Pass through the furnace and return
At length more exquisitely clear ?
Dare I ? Yes, friend, that wish I dare,
Thou an no weakling—thou canst bear ;
And " Light, Lord, though it shatter me,"
Was ever thy most secret prayer
Shall triumph blind thee, failure shame,
Or sutfering turn aside thine aim ?
No ; and love, seeing, softly breathes,
" Send, Lord, thy sublimating flame.
“ Wrap him in whirlings of white fire—
For aught of earth a funeral pyre,
But wings to bear the glad soul home
To thee, thou all-the-world's desire."
62
Aere Perennius
OMY love, when thou doest a beautiful thing And the heart in my bosom glows,
Joyous I snatch up my lyre and sing
Till the world it knows, it knows
A careless nod for my song men give,
And I pass from their life away,
But the beautiful deed thou didst shall live
In their heart of hearts for aye, for aye—
In their heart of hearts for aye,
63
Mirrorings
I BREAK the seal, unfold the sheet, disclose The faultless petal of a rich, red rose.
One sole aim, say the wise, each builder’s mind
Pursueth ever ; for the Lord designed,
In the beginning, man ; and all things tend,
How low soever, to that perfect end
This product of some dainty deva's art,
This petal—just so shaped, a human heart
Hued thus, love’s strong, pure flood, the inner eyes ;
Suddenly oped, man sees from out it rise
And just thus, far too subtly sweet to cloy,
The lightsome, love-born thing that men call joy,
Reflect of that one, far-off, glorious type
Is this small leaf, soft, odorous, crimson, ripe.
Ah, but in odour, softness, shape, and hue,
Of thine heart and thy fragrance, Isolde, too
64
Evensong
my beloved, rest!
I pause, I look across the distance,
Half held by yonder gleam
That tells, that tells
Not yet the spells
Of night have knit thy real and thy dream ;
Half by the subtle sweet insistence
Of the dew-freed manuka scents, which seem
Laden with memories of far years, far lands,
When earth was young, and thou and I
Yon dumb heaven understands —
O why, why, why
Stays it for ever dumb,
For ever dumb ?
Rest, my beloved, rest
1 give this kiss to the south-west
The south-west wind, which sweepeth, sweepeth by,
Trailing great wisps of cloud along the sky—
To bear to thee, beloved, ere thou close
Thine eyes, thine eyes in balmiest repose
65
Evensong
Rest, my beloved, rest!
Why, why, O why
Liest thou yonder, lone,
While lonelv I
This night, these many unblest nights, shall lie ?
Thy dear head, silken-trest,
My own,
Should by my cheek be prest—
Have we not known !
The while in perfect, satisfying rest,
Thy cheek upon my breast,
Thou shouldest sink to slumber ; round thee thrown
Wall from the dark's innumerous alarms,
Shield from her baleful spawn's malefic charms
The soft magnetic circle of mine arms.
My own, my own,
Have we not exquisitely known !
What have we done, we two,
That lone we lie,
Parted for half our days, though true
Mate of true mate, still uttering the cry
Dumbly to the dumb heavens, which know so well
Yet never break their silences to tell,
Our craving, iterant “ Why ?
Patient, O, very patient—well they know ;
Yet what joy would we not with joy forego
To hear them break the silence and the spell ?
66
Evensong
What have we done ? Upon the winding way
Of myriad lives, or far or near,
We two, so trustingly, so purely dear
Each unto each, have surely done some deed—
In pitiful blindness or in wilful seeing
Brought into unextinguishable being
Some thought, word, act, whose death-defying seed
Bears leaf, and bud, and blossom even to-day ;
Biddeth me here, thee yonder, wondering stay-
Waiting and wondering stay
Rest, my beloved, rest!
Not in sheer weariness, as they
That have no hope, because they cannot see
Law everywhere as we
The vintage surely cometh ; late or soon —
Perhaps at life's still eventide ;
When strife hath died,
Perhaps at life's high noon :
Yea, soon or late
The vintage cometh : thou and 1 can wait
The hour the Lords of Karma know, not we,
For all our longing : so it must be best
The hour we know not, yet know certainly
The time of vintage cometh ; wherefore rest,
Rest, my beloved, rest thee,
Rest . . . rest . . . rest!
67
Tamen Usque
ALL my life I’ve been a child, Nothing known of cares and troubles
Day by sunny day beguiled
In blowing bubbles.
Once I blew a lovely one,
O, so big, so gaily coloured,
Who had not enjoyed the fun
Had been a dullard !
Round it swam, and swimming shewed
A thousand hues, and all a-shimmer ;
Now as sun-born they gleamed and glowed,
Now moon-pearled, dimmer
My life was in the swelling thing
That from my firm-held pipe depended,
I scarce could force myself to fling
It off untended
Away it floated—facile first
Of bubbles —for a whole rare minute ;
And then, and then—O well, it burst .
My heart was in it.
68
Tamen Usque
I wiped the spray, and tried to smile ;
And sat a while.
Then, since I've always been a child,
Nor ever known of cares and troubles—
All the sunny days beguiled
In blowing bubbles.
I mixt my suds afresh, and soon
Was blowing, bright and brisk as ever,
Though no fair birth of sun and moon
Blest my endeavour ;
Till, on one joyous summer day
I blew a sphere that might be reckoned
If not as large, as fine, as gay,
A worthy second
My pulse throbbed as I watcht it round,
And ripe, and richlier paint its timings
With every shade earth's art hath found
And heavenly hintings
I launcht it trembling ; felt again
A stab at heart I could not smother ;
On the soft air it soared ; and then —
Burst, like the other.
I went and put my pipe away-
For a whole day
69
Submission
HEART of my heart—l here, thou there And do I weary with my prayer
That greater heart which broodeth o’er us
Till to our lost joys it restore us ?
Nay, love, so desperately dear
Thou art, I dare not wish thee near,
Lest the gods yield us to my suing
Delight that only prove undoing.
70
Scena
AND it is over ; weep not so, my heart — O, thou art all too tender ! Hast forgot
That I have said to thee ? Dost not yet know
That all thou dost is right in these mine eyes.
Because I love thee utterly ? If wise
It seemeth unto thee to bid me go.
Gladly I serve thee, dearest, so. Weep not
So all forlorn—too tender, love, thou art.
Hush—not one littlest self-accusing breath,
Thou woman of my worship ! Thou to blame ?
That is the foolish talk of idle minds
Why should we blind us with their empty phrase?
Well hast thou loved me, dearest; all my days
Igo the greatlier for thee. Never winds
Of wintriest age, nor trial’s fiercest flame
Shall filch that glory from me—no, nor death
Ah, love, thou smilest —wanly, yet indeed
Dost smile ; and there, a faint, a far-off light
Dawns in thine eyes. O, let it grow and grow
Suffusing all thy being with glad day !
71
Scena
Dearest, O dearest, see, I proudly lay
My lips the last time on thy fingers—so.
And do they quiver ? Nay : O, read aright
Their stillness—strong to serve thcc at thy need
Farewell! Look not away, O love of mine,
Who lovedst me so long —look not away
Look in my face, and know my love for true.
Give me both hands a moment : frank and free,
Purged of all worldly folly, nakedly
Let us stand soul to soul —what, earth undo
This bond that holds in easy, happy sway ?
Earth mar with sighs and tears this mirth divine ?
Never ! Go, play thy part, O love, and tell
Thine heart thou surely playest; by and by
When the brief piece is done, and thou art free,
Come again hither to this lower sphere,
And call me softly, love, and I shall hear.
And from earth’s uttermost parts shall come to thee —
Shall come—shall come ! And merrily thou and I
Shall laugh ... as now we laugh : farewell, farewell.
72
Greta Notandus Dies
V I 'IS morn : the flooding sunshine fills A My room; I wake to gaze.
The bay is hid, the softened hills
Dream in their haze
'Tis noon : my very soul expands
Beneath the broad blue skies ;
Unveiled and unashamed the land's
Ripe beauty lies.
So gracious day heaven guideth right
To still more gracious end;
Morn, noon are filled with warmth and light,
Eve brings a friend
73
lis Radicibus
i
IVAN, adieu ! Thou goest not alone;
With thee
Across the sea
To the old land —
To any strand
Thou seekest, known, unknown
Love goeth, pure as human love may be, :
As strong, as patient, and as true
Adieu, adieu, adieu—
Ivan, adieu !
11.
Ivan, adieu !
While riseth still thy star
Roam thou
The world as now ;
With joy full-fraught,
Waste not a thought
On us who sit afar ;
Drink sweetness to the lees ; thy flushing brow
With ivy bind each day anew ;
Adieu, adieu, adieu —
Ivan, adieu !
74
lis Radicibus
in.
Ivan, adieu
The fairest thing God made — In time
Its hour will chime,
Its fragrant breath
Fail, into death
Its loveliness will fade
When for thy joys that hour shall knell, O then
Turn hither, friend, again ;
For, pure, strong, patient, true,
Here dureth love, and shall endure, O friend, :
Until the end
Adieu, adieu, adieu
Forget not love can heal, love can renew
Adieu, adieu, adieu—
Ivan, adieu
75
“Maid Moon”
To M. E. E
AUSTERE Maid Moon —too calm, too cold The sensualist will say.
The human heart to touch, to hold
I answer " Xay ! ,:
Thy chiselled features, clean and clear
Against thy crescent, bright
As ice-clad summit rising sheer
Up the blue height;
Thy waving, wind-borne, light-kist hair
That mingles while I gaze
With wind-borne, light-kist cloudlets fair
In mystic ways ;
Thine eyes half-droopt, sight turned within
Soul holding converse high
With all thy spiritual kin
That ride the sky—
* A Picture
76
“ Maid Moon ”
O Moon, Maid Moon, too calm, too cold,
For him whom senses sway;
My heart thou readiest, and wilt hold
Love-bound for aye !
72
Pause
\A kdy’s hand upon my shoulder fell; -iVI I stoopt and lightly lifted her. How tell
The wonder of that moment ? Thus of yore
Stood Atlas with his world, and askt no more.
78
Dunedin,
ON AN EARLY AUTUMN DAY
city, thou art very beautiful!
This morning, in the freshness of new day,
I stood on mine own portico, at gaze
Over the curvy-bosomed bush below,
Over the roofy ridge of Eglinton
Past that one paddock of live emerald
Imperially careless of the year
And all its tribute seasons, to the bay,
The bay I love so, whose exhaustless soul
Mates the swart queen's infinitude of charm
Steel grey those waters, winding, winding on
Among their furthering hills, neath rare grey haze
In wafts, and pencillings, and crumbled heaps,
Save where the sun smote into silver flame
Twin heavenly spaces. Yea. I stood at gaze,
At gaze, until the joyous soul of me
Slipping her moorings, bore away full sail
Into the boundless
74
Dunedin
Now ’tis eve. I lie
Upon a thick-grassed hillside. Under me
Lie strewn the town, the many-cottaged flat,
The fringed sandhills, and the wide, wide sea
The sun is dropping to the west hill-rim,
And lends his last light to the ripe red field
Of stook and stubble yonder, and the sails
Of fifty yachts that ruffle the blue bay
I have no eyes for her. Her beauty pales,
This wondrous moment, before his that spreads
Wide, wide there, unconfined by furthering hills,
Bounded alone of heaven. So exquisite
His hue, his texture, but for those long waves
That swell, and stand, and hollow them a cave
Of shadowy mystery, and slowly cream
End to far end, and swell and mount once more,
No eye could tell or were it sea, or cloud,
Or the pure sky’s own substance.
Sinks the sun,
Who made this marvellous day ; and everywhere
The stealthy graynesses creep out. Not such
As beautified the morning, but cold things.
Cold, heartless things that slide lean fingers round
The throats of all those brightnesses and joys,
And ice them to their own sad semblance
80
Dunedin
Lo,
Still the wide sea defies them. How he gleams
Ethereal through the gloom ! And far, far off
On the horizon's utmost verge, there shines,
And shines, and shines, what might be —who can say ?
The stilled white pavement round about God's throne
81
Nisi Prius Moriatur
YEARS and years I have been waiting Till the hand of God that held me
Should be lifted. Life went by me—
Sprang, and bloomed, and droopt, and perisht,
Sprang, and bloomed, and droopt, and perisht,
In interminable sequence
Season upon speeding season,
Scarce perceived. Nor grace, nor glory,
Nor dimmed splendour, nor stark grimness
Spake one word. The loves, the hatings,
Envies, charities around me,
Struggles, sad defeats, proud triumphs—
All that make man's little moment —
Faded from my dull, dead vision ;
Powers of mind and powers of body
Held alike suspended wholly
God’s heavy hand upon me
Very quietly I bore it,
For in untold tale of earth-lives
I have learned one lesson throughly,
Learned infinitude of patience.
82
Nisi Prius Moriatur
Not for me now hot rebellion
'Gainst the law, nor mad self-bruising
On fate's adamantine mural;
Simply heart-stilled, moveless waiting
For the hour that surely neared me,
For the hour that needs must reach me,
Sooner, later—mattered little
Or in this life or another
It hath come. The past is shattered,
Slought; and from its iron confines
Soul and body rise transfigured
Senses thrill to grace and glory
Of old earth as once, yea keenlier,
Singing " Beauty, beauty, beauty ! "
Unto soul that echoes softly
From a rapturous sereneness.
Stirless extasy—" Yea, beauty ! "
Years and years spread wide before me
Years of love and joy unmeasured,
Years of thought, and years of action.
Diamond-crested with high service—
Wondrous years : and gazing on them
All my being fills with laughter—
Laughter exquisite and holy,
Laughter delicate as foam-bells
Born where mirthful waters whisper
Round the feet of her, whose glory
Fills earth, interspace, and heaven —
Rosy-radiant Aphrodite.
83
False Prophets
WHAT'S this they shout along the ways ? " Lay down your arms," the cry ?
This preacht in these degenerate days
As wisdom from on high ?
Has that great word, then, lost its worth “
That word of Christ the Lord ;
" I came not to send peace on earth "
O hear him !—“ but a sword ? ”
Away with dreams of idle ease.
Of sloth mis-named good-will,
Sweep clean your hearts of specious pleas—
Evil is evil still.
Rideth it ever near at hand
Far is the blessed goal—
Shall England, England, craven stand
And watch its chariots roll ?
Who shaped her weakness into might ?
Who blest her from her birth,
Till now she standeth at full height,
The foremost folk of earth ?
What, hath he fashioned him a brand,
A glorious, flashing blade,
84
False Prophets
To see it shivered in his hand
To be again betrayed ?
O England, England, fling it by,
This coward mood that fears
To grasp the greatness God Most High
Hath kept thee through the years
Shrink not from aught or all it mean
Heaven's warrior to be ;
Stand up ; with heart and soul serene
Say " Here am I, send me ! "
Give thee—and give thee whole and one
No tittle of the price
Hold back, Sapphira-like ; have done
With starveling sacrifice ;
All, all upon the altar lay,
Nought less true giving is ;
List to the still small voice, obey,
Knowing no will but his ;
Arm thee, re-arm thee, to defy
Fate's last and fiercest fling ;
Be thine exultant battle-cry
Follow the Christ, the King ! "
And should who know no higher rule
Than lust of place and power.
Cry havoc, fill God's earth with dule,
Know verily thine hour
Hath come, the centuries have nursed ;
Set thy leasht lightnings free—
85
False Prophets
Hurl them upon that folk accurst,
Destroy it utterly.
So joy shall come again, man's heart
Pour itself forth in song
England ! God’s soldier-saint thou art,
His world to guard : be strong!
86
Lakshmi
AN ever-varying joy thou art to me, O my beloved! Scarce I turn my eyes
A moment from thee when a new surprise.
A delicate fresh delight, the soul of thee,
Within thy flexile body working free.
Hath set alreadv for me. Wonder flies
Before the face of wonder : beauty dies
In giving birth to beauty, endlessly
Colour and curve of every flower that blows,
Radiance of morning’s purely perfect star.
Infinite calm of night, eve’s afterglows—
Charm of them all thou hast, the near, the far
Yea, in thine every movement, each repose,
Laugh the wild graces of all things that are.
87
Self-Exiled
ONE dark dull morning, cold and raw I wakened something over-soon,
And, marvelling, through my window saw
A sliver of the wasted moon,
A sky flusht coldly, and—of sights
One framed sheer rapture to arouse—
My quicks, the paling city lights
Like glow-worms on their leafless boughs
Morn after morn that perfect thing,
That gem of nature's art, had lain,
Awaiting my awakening.
Before my curtained window-pane.
So life on life asleep I spend ;
All beauty waits, I give no sign,
Could I but wake, the hangings rend,
What extasy of joy were mine !
88
Tiberias
THE mad wind raved across the lake, and tore The leaping waves to shreds; and as they strove
Against the tempest, agonising, 10,
The Master ! Midst the fury soft he trod
His path ; the tigerish billows shrank aside,
The hurricane itself dared stir no fold
Of his worn raiment ; in the tumult's heart.
A spot of perfect calm. They saw, they gazed,
They flung their terror by the board, they leapt
Instant to his high mood serene.
So now,
While the world heaves and writhes chaotical,
And agonised we ply the labouring oar.
Despairing lest we yield us to despair—
Again the Master ! In the tumult’s heart
Again the perfect calm ! We see, we gaze,
We fling our terror by, and instant leap
To his high mood, and face the brangled age
As he the weltering element, serene.
89
Growth
LOVE, thou hast loved me—yes, indeed ! Love, thou hast ever helpt my need :
Stayed by thy strong hand all the past,
Now I can hold my own at last
Love, how thou clingest! Have no fear ;
My limbs are strong, my vision’s clear :
Come storm, or fog, or leaping stone —
Quail ? I can stand alone, alone,
Love, how thou clingest! See, I sway,
I turn, I lose my foothold—nay
Love, as thou lov'st me loose me ! I
Must stand alone at last or die,
90
Nadir
I SHALL die one of these days— No one will know why:
Few will speak or blame or praise,
One, perchance, will cry ;
Just a tear or two, and then —
Well, eyes soon are drv
I shall die one of these days—
VC'ell mv hear: knows whv
Pass from out earth's shrouding grays—
Into clear blue sky ?
Into everlasting gloom
Not a jot care I
Once I marcht in nobler guise,
Hot on heaven's clue ;
Lookt God right between the eyes, :
Rim to centre true
Now, what use has he for me.
In this world, or a new ?
91
Nadir
" Weighed and wanting " —set that text
Clear upon my tomb.
Weighed and wanting, and —what next ?
" Yield thy betters room."
Very gladly, O my God ;
Content I wait my doom.
87
Nishkama
angel suddenly before me shone. Dimming in love his radiance divine
He softly said, " Ask what thou wilt, 'tis thine."
I spake not; and he presently was gone.
93
Again
A CHILD, I used with upturned face To laugh to God, my friend.
How long ago ! The turbid stream
Of life swirled by : the pretty dream —
A child’s—was at an end.
How long ago ! And yet to-day :
I gaze up as of yore
The years have vanisht, yes, it’s true !
I laugh up blithely through the blue
To God —my friend once more.
94
Amores et Deliciae Tuae
THOU layest by me, O my love, so husht, So marble-still, I almost deemed thee fled
Far from this foolish world of form, all dead
To loving word, and glance, and touch, had flusht
Thy cheek so witchingly, as up there rusht
The maiden-modest crimson ; and I fed
My hungry heart upon thee. Slow thy head
Turned on the pillow ; slow thy soft hand brusht
A softer tress from the white brow it lined.
And, pausing, finely framed thy face, the while
Slow thy lips parted. Then, ah ! from behind
Their lashes dawned thine eves, no forest aisle
So deeply, mistily blue ; and round me shined
The pentecostal radiance of thy smile.
95
Fantasie
CONTEXT ? Yea, well content; but might I have One wish, one only something I might choose,
Mine and not destiny's ; might I but taste
One little space of utter truancy —
This were my choice : to take thee by the hand,
To set our faces to the soaring peaks ;
To climb and wind, and still to climb and wind
O'er tussock’d knolls where, on the cradling peat,
The careless seagull lays her nestless eggs ;
By raupo-circled silver-gleaming meres,
Where the blue swamp-fowl build; through clapping flax,
Where honey-seeking tuis flit and perch ;
Up gullies where unnumbered rabbits dart,
Rustling the bracken ; by dark, busht ravines
Where hidden waters murmur musical,
Until we saw those summits cut the sky,
Up ever pointing like the Christs of God
And all day long the sun should shine on us,
And all day long the sky should brood on us
And all day long soft airs should breathe on us.
And all day long earth's bosom glow for us
As we past, wordless, glanceless, hand in hand
96
Au Supplice
YOU say you wish to serve me ? Well, the way Is very simple : seek to serve no more ;
Weary me not with " Shall I ? Shall not I? "
Risk my misunderstanding—'tis for " love,"
You say you wish to serve —is it not so ?
And “ love ” scorns risks, you say.
I am verv tired ;
So tired, I think that never in all the earth
Was poor soul tireder. Rest is all I crave.
I know not " love " ; I understand not " love,"
Love " that would wrap me in its mothering arms "
Ah, the bare thought—l stifle ! Never rest
For me, arms straining, bosom heaving, heart
Beating its weariful measure under me !
I want aloneness. I have been too much
In the press. The multitude has thronged so close—
Lovers, and haters, idly curious souls—
I have not drawn one deep, strong, vital breath
Have not made one free, straight, self-judged step :
And yet—life still to live !
97
Au Supplice
I am tired, tired,
Ah, tired ! I want but to lie down and feel
The noise and tumult ebb away from me,
The cramping ease, the tanglement uncoil,
And hungered, thirsted, agonised for rest —
Rest sweep upon me, under, over, round,
And through me, body, and mind, and soul, until
I swoon into oblivion.
and by.
When that great sleep has had its way with me,
When pulse is stilled, and brain is stilled, and mind
And soul are stilled ; and God puts out his hand
Softly upon my forehead, waking me—
In that far time ungraspable, O soul
That “ lovest ” and wouldst serve me ; then, perhaps
Who knows ?—perhaps I shall be glad of thee ;
Perhaps I shall know better what " love "is ;
Perhaps I shall be sorry for the past
That now is present, and my dullness. Dear,
If I may use a word that seems to mean
Much on thy lips—dear, can you wait till then ?
98
Neque Ex Ordine
SONG
(Written to the rhythms of “ O, promise me,”)
I.
I LOVE thee as the apple of mine eye. Yea, love, I love thee more than mine own soul
To serve thee, sweet, I could most surelv die.
Could miss with gladness the entrancing goal
Of life made lovely by thy helping hand
Thy words of cheer, who all dost understand
As never soul hath understood before,
O love of now—O love of yore.
11.
I love thee so, beloved, I can live
For thee, or be thou near or be thou far;
If thou shouldst seek thy freedom, I can give
It back nor wince ; yea. even though thy star
Lead thee away to distant spheres, and leave
Me standing helpless here, I shall not grieve ;
For, if I serve thee best by standing still,
Ev’n that hard post with joy I’ll fill.
99
Attainment
DID you ever solve a mystery that had baffled you for years,
Through days of barren striving, nights of tears —
Failure piling up on failure, till the hope that gave you strength
To seek, and seek, and still seek, died at length—
Till the very aching left you, and a worse thing settled there
At heart, the palsying numbness of despair ?
Did you ? Then you know the wonder of this waking
from the dead,
New earth beneath, new heaven overhead :
You know—you know my rapture as I swing me
through the night
And its sharp manuka fragrance to the height;
And this later, greater marvel —how the surging joytides cease,
Leaving soul and body drencht with dews of peace.
100
To Woman
THOU stand’st, the cynosure of heavenly eyes ; Thy yea or nay earth’s destiny commands.
Man plays the sluggard’s r6le, and in thy hands,
O wakened woman, all the future lies—
Its glory, its disgrace. By thee we rise
To the white perfectness of him who stands
Our everlasting pattern, whom all lands,
All ages worship ; if thou fail, hope dies
O woman, weigh the issues. Life is thine.
Death thine, nought less, to give us. 'Twixt these two
Thy fateful choosing. O may love divine
Thine eye with light, thy heart with strength endue
To see, to suffer, so the great design
Its fulness know, and God make all things new.
101
Gemara
KING, maker, God were none alone, apart; To each his perfect sphere, that joy may be :
Kings have their empery, makers have their art,
God hath his universe; and I—have thee.
102
Delusion
LAY not that nattering unction to thy soul — Under no circumstances whatsoe'er
Wouldst thou have been thy brother. Very fair
His lot to thee who strugglest towards a goal
That still recedes, recedes ; but, if the whole
Of thy life's web were laid before thee bare,
Thou wouldst perceive that to the single hair
The swerveless scales apportion thee thy dole.
Envy him not ! His day would be thy night;
His sun-swept space would be thy prison cell;
His song, thy dirge ; his summer bloom, thy blight;
His marriage festalry, thy funeral knell;
His paradise so rich, so wonder-bright
Would plunge thee shrieking into hottest hell.
103
Axylus
LO, here I sit and give the world good day, The honest, eager world that passeth by
Whoso will turn aside awhile and stay
Is welcome, but move on with him ? Not I !
What the world looketh for ahead, ahead,
Ever ahead—l know that it is here
Or nowhere ; so I smile and shake my head
At all who think it far, or dream it near.
Far ! They may travel with the travelling sun
Round the wide world and find not, and return,
Empty of strength and hope ; and one by one
Sink to their ashes and the decent urn
Near ! They may stretch their hands and grasp, and still
Stretch, grasp—poor victims of untamed desire,
Till on a day, wild, sudden laughter shrill
To the blank heavens, and gibbering they expire.
104
Axylus
Foredoomed to utterest failure, on they go
On hopeless quest; but here I sit, and all,
And more than all, they seek, in endless flow—
Wisdom, and peace, and joy—is mine at call
Ho, ye that thirst, come drink of this my stream;
Ho, ye that hunger, eat of this my tree.
And ye shall never, never even dream
Of thirst and hunger more; sit here with me !
No —never one : the gadfly stings them on
They laugh, they wave a friendly hand, they sneer
At the poor madman, stonily stare, and —gone
Yet, when the fever is over man shall hear !
105
"Time and the Hour "
POOR soul, the wanton world hath had its way, Its heartless way with thee, too long, too long,
And swept thee like a bark beneath the strong
And mastering cyclone, shattered, stung with spray,
Wide leagues across the unplumbed, uncharted gray
Yet, can the Judge of all the earth do wrong ?
Wait, the worst tempest passeth, and the song
Of soft sea-maidens crowncth the glad day.
Wait, thou shalt find thee blest beyond all dream,
Beyond ev’n hope’s high vision that beguiles
Earth's burdened moment with celestial gleam,
Beyond the fairest fruit of fancy's wiles
O bark, storm-driven, the eternal ocean stream
Hath loved thee well, and 10, the Happy Isles !
106
What of the Night
I.
WHAT do the masses care for art ? And yet the artist paints,
Or carves, or sings from out his heart
His lofty themes, nor faints.
What do the masses care for right ?
What do they care for good ?
Yet is the seer’s one delight,
From out his solitude
To sound God’s living truths. And why
Do poet, prophet so,
Nor lie despairing down to die ?
Because, O soul, thev know
11.
They know that not one noble thought
Is ever vainly spent,
Or turneth back again unfraught
With that whereto 'twas sent.
107
What of the Night
With tireless vision piercing keen
This outer husk that rings
The chafing soul, they well have seen
Men thirst for higher things ;
And when their Dead Sea fruit they prize,
And scorn God’s gifts divine,
’Tis but because their sealed eyes See not his com and wine.
111.
On, man of beauty—workest thou
On canvas, or in stone,
Or plastic word, or bidst us bow :
To majesties of tone
Speak out the thought that vibrates there
Deep in thy moved soul;
Count all thou sufferest empty air
So thou but reach the goal.
For only thus the stifling night :
May pass, glad morrow be
O thou lone watcher on the height,
Hope cometh but by thee.
108
Artemisia
AS one on whom hath fall’n the subtle spell Of master mage, so movest thou. The smiles
That curve thy lip responsive to our wiles
Hold yet a strange aloofness, and compel
Soft wonder ; while thy rapt eyes ever dwell
On far-off things, as over misty miles
Of plain one looks on purpled mountain-piles,
And what he seeth, heareth none can tell
Go on, sweet maid, on thine own way—God-speed
Hear still the quiring cherubim ; and wise
Heaven keep thee still to echo for our need
Her high ethereal strains ; until we rise,
Ev'n we, the dull of ear, at length to rede
The riddle of that starshine in thine eyes
109
Contra Stimulum
NO dreamer he j planted four-square upon This visible earth, all else he brusht aside
■iificently faithless, he hath cone
Into that realm he ever hath denied
110
Uma
THE more I study that superb antique Presentment of God’s motherness, men call
“Venus of Milo,” pondering on all
Those exquisite asymmetries that speak
The flawless knowledge of the glorious Greek—
Those unpaired eyebrows, and the little fall
That so deliciously arraigns the wall
Of unseen pearl that fails the rounded cheek.
The more my heart within me laughs to see
So perfect copy of the radiant form
That sums all manifested things for me,
Ev’n thine, Uma—thou living, breathing, warm
White loveliness, the sculptor froze to be
A world's delight, and beauty's lasting norm
111
Her Song
TIS spring, 'tis spring, and all the place Awakes from slumber deep ;
One nears, and in my bosom
I feel my glad heart leap—
Yes, like the garden and the grass
I wake from winter sleep.
The daffodils are breaking bud—
Earth's babes exceeding sweet !
I have whispered them my secret,
And thev listen for his feet.
Then tumble into eager bloom
That presence loved to greet
The plum has starred its swaying withes ;
Primroses hide and peer
Amid the young, fresh grass-stems
How dainty, and how dear !
I hear them breathing soft, ah soft :
" When, when will he be here ? "
112
Her Song
The thrush upon the pine tree tip
The good news surely had;
Hark to his trills and roulades —
Sheer joy has made him mad !
I would I had a thousand hearts
To be more greatly glad
113
Domino Suo
THREE Kings there were : one left his throne To win and wed a low-born maid.
Her wandering life became his own,
His livelihood a trivial trade
The second, stooping all as low,
Drew up his love to name and fame
Letting her simple day-dreams go,
She bravely played the brilliant game.
The third, caught also in the net,
Tore himself free—'t was kiss and part.
His name men murmur reverent yet;
She perisht of a broken heart.
And which of these did greatliest ?
I know not, I ; I tell the tale.
Unto each soul its several quest —
How else ? What shall restraint avail ?
• Bhagavad Gita, 111., 33.
114
The Swan of Avon
LO, earth's arch-dreamer ! Ev'n as at the prime God watcht in wonder all his dreams come true ;
Saw nothing stir, move, change ; saw form and hue
Arise in wildering beauty; heard the chime
Of orb on orb, as timelessness in time
Merged conscious—watcht in wonder that still grew
As still he dreamed, and suns and systems new :
Forth-flamed, filled space with harmony sublime
Ev’n so he watcheth, wondering, his dreams
Take shape, with flashing glories night dispart,
Give silence voices exquisite ; nor seems
The marvel less to him, as still his art
Careless-consummate flings forth worlds in streams,
Spangles with suns and stars his realm, man's heart
’ Written after viewing Jansen’s portrait.
115
A Ballad of Holy Rood
SPRANG a tree in Lebanon, A cedar young and strong
By earth and air soft nourisht,
Greatly it grew and flourisht,
Its life a very song.
Tall and exceeding straight it grew ;
Far out its verdurous fans it threw ;
So perfect shelter-spot it made,
Hot herdsmen, panting beast, its shade
Alike sought—merciful retreat
From summer noontide’s arrowy heat;
These resting in vague brute content.
Those gazing still in wonderment
At each fresh visit; now admiring
The mighty bole to heaven aspiring,
Now wondering, neath the great green spans,
Were nature’s genius first or man’s ;
Till from their full hearts grateful praise
Outbreaking, down the woodland ways
Echoed in chantings soft and deep ;
And by their charge they fell asleep.
116
A Ballad of Holy Rood
Climbed a man to Lebanon,
A woodman trained ; his eye
Over the forest roving free
Markt the tree’s splendid symmetry
Against the Syrian sky,
Each glorious mass, each perfect line,
The great trunk towering straight and true-
" Superb ! " he muttered, as his sign
On its doomed bark he drew ;
And long he lookt, with wonder filled,
While charm on charm his being thrilled ;
Twice, thrice or e'er he went his ways
He turned him back, and stood at gaze
O, living trees he loved them well
Albeit his calling bade him fell,
Lop, split, and shape them, join, and rear
For human uses all as dear ;
Yet never tree since first he turned
To woodcraft, all its wonder learned
On wind-swept crag, in grassy glade,
Such mastering spell had on him laid
Wandered one to Lebanon
From a land afar,
Seeking what he scarce could say—
Some new stage upon the way—
Guided by the star
That shone in his surrendered soul,
And, thorough bitter, thorough sweet,
In glory, gloom, set still his feet
117
A Ballad of Holy Rood
Toward the far glistering goal
He paced adown a cedarn aisle
Gazing, and praising God the while ;
Sudden the wondrous tree he saw—
Ah, yes, and more ; on either hand,
Beyond, before, above, a band
Of shining ones ; and knelt in awe,
Worshipping rapt. Long stayed he thus,
Then raised his eyes where, o'er that quire,
In tenderest green mist of fire,
Pure, passionless, expert, and free,
Towered high the guardian of the tree,
An angel great and glorious
'" Welcome, friend, to Lebanon ;
Behold ! " the angel said
And at his kingly gesture fold
On fold of time was backward rolled —
The days gave up their dead
Then saw the sage how first it sprang
In seedling beauty, fresh and fair,
That greatest grace of Lebanon,
What time the angel chorus rang
Through heaven and all the upper air,
Six long, slow centuries agone,
As on our blind and groping earth
A radiant son of God took birth,
To teach her work-numbed folk to play;
Their hot, salt tears to charm away
With kindly, natural mirth ;
118
A Ballad of Holy Rood
And how it reared its head on high,
And flung abroad its giant limbs ;
Made music of the zephyr's sigh,
And when the fiercer blasts tore by
Wrought of their choler hymns ;
And how, remote on Lebanon,
While seasons came and went.
While generations woke and slept,
That tireless sentinel still kept
His watch in rich content
Nothing, with such as he, in all
God's maze of worlds, or great or small
Life, be it xon, be it hour—
Forms, be they mighty, be they mean—
For him the flaming of one power,
For him the details of one scene ;
System, or tree, or life at flow
On unseen levels, all too low-
For sense unaided to explore,
Born all one course to run; to pass
And be not, each its fellow's glass,
Crore upon crowding, countless crore ;
And all but waves and wavelets, stirred
From sleep by God's creative word ;
Nor in his song were earth's part borne,
One life unclad, one form unworn,
Came Lord Christ to Lebanon ;
Seeking peace awhile ;
Softly trod he through the wood
119
A Ballad of Holy Rood
Till before the tree he
With a quiet smile.
Trilled the bird-folk gay no more.
Hummed no bee ; upon the hill
All grew marvellous and still.
\Xhile closer, closer, closer bore
The shining ones to where he stayed
His steps beneath the cedar shade,
Their Prince to reverence and adore.
Soft fell his voice as lover's kiss
" Thou and I, O beauteous tree,
By God's love, man's hate, made one,
Shall naked stand beneath the sun
One day, on distant Calvary ;
For this, O verdurous brother, this,
Six centuries since thy seed was sown ;
To this end hast thou glorious grown—
Thy fate, how likes it thee ? "
Then on startled Lebanon
Straight a wonder fell;
Through boughs that droopt the Lord anigh :
A voice made murmurous reply
"My fate, it likes me well! "
Smote the woods a mighty breeze,
Rang like harps the swaying trees ;
Birds broke madly into song
All the shaken range along ;
Flocks, herds, all lesser things, gave tongue ;
While those great quires of shining ones,
Flashing in air like countless suns
120
A Ballad of Holy Rood
As over tree and Lord they hung.
With such magnificence of sound
Earth's offering completed, crowned,
As never breast of space had stirred
Since at the all-compelling word
The darkness shrivelled like a scroll,
And through the heavens, from pole to pole
In scorn of chaos and old night
Poured the wild revel of the light
Fell a day on Lebanon
When sturdy axe-strokes rang ;
Echo a thousand clamours raised
Dryad and oread, amazed.
From cave and covert sprang ;
They saw, and, veiling grieved eyes,
Fled the sore sight with piteous cries,
Their task the careless woodmen plied
With many a quip and sorry jest
Whenas, his cherisht tool beside
Each stretcht him, glad of rest;
Or whenas, broken bread to dip
In kindly oil, they sat a-ring,
And past the flagon lip to lip
Quaft, laught, essayed to sing.
Nor felt they slightest sense of guilt
For ribald phrase or foolish iilt
Nor knew how hideous the wrong
They did the august muse of song ;
They ate, they drank, they earned their pay—
What for God's other worlds cared they !
121
A Ballad of Holy Rood
So from crowned Lebanon
They filcht the fairest gem
Talk not of glory and of grace.
Of matchlessness, of pride of place—
Why. what were these to them !
Their task to fell a tree, no more
And. as of old Dalilah shore
Her slumbering Samson's locks, so they
Hewed its luxuriance away,
Topt it, and set them heart and soul
To bring to earth the helpless bole.
The hill-rim caught the sinking sun
Ere the day's desperate work was done
Night the maimed titan saw at rest
Upon his mother's wounded breast
Nor yet the end : the work sped on
The mauls were plied, the wedges driven,
Till very silent, very still
Upon the desecrated hill
The erstwhile pride of Lebanon
Lay, all to-broke and riven
On a dav from Lebanon
Set forth the labouring wains
The silence soft resumed its sway-
As, passing from the winding way.
They struck across the plains
With fearful step the nymphs crept back
Along each mossy woodland track,
Or peered from out their sheltering rocks
Birds homed, and sang again ; the flocks
122
A Ballad of Holy Rood
Came, staring dully, nosed the ground,
Moved on, and other shelter found ;
While nature’s swift, sure hand began
To heal the ravages of man,
Her youngest, dearest. "He is still,"
She saith, " too young 'twixt good and ill
To judge ; I wait the day he can."
O wondrous mother-love that sees
In the weak creature on its knees
The man to be, nor ever blames
But waits, waits, bearing endless shames —
Yea, ev'n through seven eternities !
Far from sun-bathed Lebanon
Behold a city street
A joiner’s yard, wherein the wains
Their burdens leave, that winds, and rains,
And sun the work complete.
The years slide by ; their labour done,
The seasoned cedar balks are brought
To bench, and shapen ; till but one
At length remains unwrought
O'er all Jerusalem, who knew
That putting-forth might trace ;
Wider the tree spread in its death
Than when it drew its eager breath
And towered into space
Of it a changer’s bench was built;
A temple coffer, carved and gilt;
A judgement-seat; a litter ; poles
For the holy place; fine rods for scrolls—
123
A Ballad of Holy Rood
The Law, the Prophets ; tablets ; bowls.
And cabinets ; and bureaus, fit
For even your Roman exquisite
Fared one back toward Lebanon
A dainty chest, designed
Full cunningly, and featly made,
With choicest amber all inlaid.
With odorous sandal lined ;
A precious hold for precious things—
Brooches, and torques, and magic rings
Whereon who could spelled names of power ;
>
Wherewith who dared, at his dread hour
A God evokt, high wisdom won,
And wings to outsoar moon and sun.
And secret places were therein,
Retreats of sanctity and sin—
Of things too pure unhid to be,
Of things too vile for eye to see
Some empress's fair fancy ? Ah,
By one not all unknown to fame.
Who bore in Rome an honoured name,
Forgotten all too easily
In Palestine beyond the sea
'Twas given to her of Magdala
Out, alas, for Lebanon
Comes one who bears a ring
" Honour, joiner, falls to you
Past the lot of other Jew
Up, and serve your King I
124
A Ballad of Holy Rood
Let a cross be builded straight
Straight, my friend, or fear your own—
Very tall, and very wide,
As befits a crucified
Who claimeth crown and throne
O'er his people either side —
Rogues our common stock supplies—
He shall lord it as he dies !
That stout beam that lieth there
Hath cubits plenty and to spare ;
'Twill serve." " True," quoth the craftsman, " true ;
It might well have been kept for you."
" Belike it was," the Roman said
And went his ways, while overhead
The great green guardian of the
Echoed " It was " full silverly
Calvary and Lebanon
Are met, and tree and Lord,
In ghastly unity, on high
Stand lone and naked neath the sky,
By all the world abhorred
While hour on hour the jostling croud
Their brutal jests, their laughter loud,
Their curses, their coarse mockeries fling
At one who dreamed himself a King.
But as the stroke of noon draws nigh,
Behold, a change ; the railings die,
The movements cease ; upon the hill
All grows marvellous and still.
125
A Ballad of Holy Rood
And in that hush the tunid ear
A voice like sigh of dawn may hear :
" Brother, the shame, the cruelty—
Would I might bear it all for thee ! "
And softer still the swift reply :
" There is no thou ; there is no I ;
We that were two are one—are one ;
Wish not the finisht work undone ! "
126
De Gustibus—
CLOUD pageants—purples, crimsons, golds— To others’ taste may be;
The pure blue vault of heaven holds
First place with me.
And why ? Ah, friend, if I could tell
I were as God Most High ;
It towers to heaven, it fathoms hell,
The reason whv
127
Guerdon
BOSOM sweet as weariest Head might seek, whereon to rest
Arms, ah, soft enough to make
Racktest frame forget its ache
Lips such Christly power revealing
In their lightest touch is healing ;
Eyes 50 full of love, and light,
And laughter, they transfigure quite
Earth's dull horror, fill the soul
With radiance of its source and goal
Voice that thrills like noble wine—
Voice, eves, all, beloved, thine !
128
No.
National Museum, Athens.
' I '} lOU beautiful piece of breathing bronze, that * flittedst an aery nought
Till the striving mind of the artist flung about thee his
web of thought;
Till, as he gazed on the thing he had won, strong love
in his soul up-swirled,
And he said : " I have pluckt me a flower indeed, I shall
wear it before the world !
Day after day, with desperate toil, be builded thee into being,
Nearer and nearer the image true of that rapturous hour of seeing,
Till, the last touch given, his tools laid by. joy mounting o'er despair :
' Hermes ! '" he cried. " thou hast blest me : In. the form
1 have shaped is fair !
129
No. .
Bless thou me still, while the furnace glows, while the
gleaming bronze is cast,
Till high in thy fane, on its marble base, thy symbol
stand at last ;
Then, then. O Godhood and Master, come, come ; let
thy topaz flame
Flicker from finger, and lip, and eye ; add to my form
thy name !
" Speak with thy lovers at its feet ; call to thyself in them,
Till flashes the ray of thy laughing light from the nine
times buried gem ;
Draw them, O wonderful son of heaven, till from earth
thev shake them free,
And, even as thou with great Zeus art one, know them
one with thee—with thee ! "
Great Hermes heard ; and he spake indeed through the
gift of his sen ant true ;
Myriads wakened to nobler life, many were born anew,
While some were lifted o'er space and time from earth's
illusion far
And, losing themselves, first found themselves in the
heart of their father star
130
No. .
Swift in their course the centuries rolled, and 10, an
alien folk,
The Fates' last favourite, swept the land, bent proud
Greece to its yoke.
Treasure on treasure it rapt away to its home across the main,
And the blessed image was rudely torn from its desecrated fane.
Hid in the vessel’s hold it lay as she struck the wave to foam.
But never, O never its beauty graced the halls of con-
quering Rome.
Was Poseidon wroth at the outrage done his brother ?
Who can say ?
But the robber ship and its booty down he flung from
the light of day
Under his waters still and cool, far from man's hopes
and fears,
Lay the statue, wrapt in his kindly sands, for nigh tw«
thousand years ;
Then from the wonderful wine-hued sea, 10, another
radiant birth ;
The flower the sculptor had pluckt for man, it blos-
somed again on earth
131
No. —.
Reverent eyes on the marvel gazed as in partial wreck it lay ;
The soil of its sojourn under the sea was cunningly done away;
And at last in pristine loveliness it stood once more for all
To joy in, though not neath temple roof, yet in beauty hallowed hall.
And still to a lover at its foot Hermes the mighty bends ;
Still to the figure of breathing bronze his loveliness he lends ;
His light, his laughter they fill my heart; he calleth my soul on high ;
Earth’s chain is broken ; I soar ! Thou God, into thy life I die !
132
“Upasaka”
To Annie Besant
THE Master fared through the sun-stricken land, Wrapt in his dream. Followed the little band
Which loved him, those for whom he had unsealed
Such store of hidden glories, had revealed
Future so wondrous, that, as men with wine,
So were they drunken with that draught divine
And, as men in their cups, on fancy's wings
Upborne, conceive them conquerors and kings,
So quarrelled they, their madness at its height,
Who should be greatest in the realm of light
Eve came. They sat at meat ; a silence spread,
And in the stillness soft the Master said,
Filling each listening soul with sore dismay :
What was it ye disputed by the way ? "
The silence deepened even unto pain
As that clear voice sank into heart and brain ;
And the pain sharpened into anguish keen
As each perceived the folly that had been ,
Till, when it seemed the strained heart needs must break,
In heavenly melody the Master spake
133
“ Upasaka ”
" Children," he murmured, and as leaping rlame
Transmutes dull earth to glory, anguish, shame
Were sudden lost in extasy ; they raised
Their eyes, and on the Master's beauty gazed
" Children," he murmured, " by one way alone
The mightiest wins his sceptre and his throne
Solely by serving any climbs the height,
Taketh his station in the realm of light;
Who would be first—least, lowest he must fall ;
And whoso greatest—servant be of all."
0 great disciple, who in this our day
Standest within the portal of the way,
Holding the door ajar, that he who will
May enter, touch his Master's feet, and fill
His soul with fatness ; whether thou wert there
That blessed eve, those counsels high to share,
I know not ; this, sweet soul, most surely I
Do know —somewhere, somewhen that counsel high
Thou heard'st, went'st strongly forth to play thy part,
" Servant of all " deep graven on thy heart
134
The Wizard
WHENCE he had come none ever knew. Nor any ever cared a jot;
And when he past from us, but few
Askt voyaging whither, business what.
You see, the man himself so fair
A creature was, one askt no more
Than, yes, than just to have him there,
To look at him, to con him o'er
As one would con a perfect piece
Of some dead smith's surpassing art
Till speech and thought together cease
In sudden catch about the heart—
The homage flesh and blood must pay-
To beauty, though it bless or ban,
God's hidden life surprised at play
In thing that man hath made, or man,
He met you with a smile that wooed,
Deep in his eyes danced myriad joys ;
His handclasp thawed the bleakest mood.
His laugh was like a happy boy's.
And then —one only sees it now
That he has left us by God's grace
135
The Wizard
To carry that smooth, childlike brow
Where never care had wrought one trace
To others, worthier than we —
He never broke one's linked thought,
He left one’s swirling passion free,
He flung no pharisaic ought,
But simply took one's attitude,
Stayed with its stay, swung with its swing,
Till, with his sympathy endued,
It knew itself a greater thing,
And saw its greatness still increase
Till, every foolish ripple past.
Calm fell, and all was perfect peace
That trembled into joy at last,
Dear wizard ! That was his one spell,
That selflessness which conquered all,
Unthankt we let him go : ah, well,
God's blessing ever on him fall!
136
The Whirligig of Time
HPHERE was a time when men in pride -*- Flung by who spake of faith ;
" Give us full-blooded fact," said they—
" Hence with your empty wraith ! "
There comes a day when men will laugh
At fact, the hollow shade,
And, joyous, stride along the way
That scorned faith has made.
137
In Season Due
GOLDEN tussock, golden willow, golden poplar, golden grass—
Be my life with wisdom golden at the hour when I must pass !
Greenth on hill, and dale, and meadow ; greenth on
hedgerow, shrub, and tree —
Be my life at my returning one green fire of sympathy !
138
The Accepted Time
HEARKEN to me," The prophet saith ;
" I have the key
Of life and death.
" The word of the Lord
Is a two-edged sword ;
There is never a truth that is not a lie
There is never an act that saves a soul
That a soul may not perish by
“ The word of the Lord :
Is a two-edged sword
Re-test your jewels, lest careless trust
Betray, and one day ye find the whole
Of vour boasted treasure dust
" The word of the Lord
Is a two-edged sword :
It will bear to heaven, it will plunge in hell
Then ponder, re-ponder the sacred scroll.
That ye read aright its spell
139
The Accepted Time
“ The word of the Lord :
Is a two-edged sword
Man treadeth the right-hand, the left-hand way :
That lead to the upper, the nether Pole,
As he chooseth each new day.
“ The word of the Lord :
Is a two-edged sword
Spirit and matter, life and form—
Choose : it will lead you to your goal,
Would ye Pit or Kingdom storm.
“ Hearken to me,”
The prophet saith ;
“ I give you the key
Of life—of death ! ”
140
To Annie Besant
October ist, 1912
SO high art thou we may not reach thy feet — So low thou stoopest all may know thy grace
Feel the swift comfort of thy noble face.
Strong handclasp, word of cheer. O, very meet
It is, thou Christlike soul, that we repeat
Year upon year our homage ; for a space
Turn to thee wholly ; give love's tide glad place—
Its billowing silences with song complete
What may we glow-worms wish a star like thee,
Far set, august, mid thy desireless peers ?
For thyself naught; for that we dimly see
Through haze and mist of these our lower spheres
Thy steadfast aim, success ! Best, brightest be
This year, and fruitfullest of all thy years !
141
The Secret
WHY, friends, how calm, serene, your air How can your hearts hold even beat
The while earth’s temples everywhere,
Her senate halls, her places fair,
Lie dasht about the nations’ feet ?
How, how, when all to which we clung
As tried, and tested, proven, sure
Has perisht, and in alien tongue
Life's sharp, new, fateful words are flung
All fruitless, can ye walk secure ? "
“We walk secure because we see
Life, not as piled walls and spires
To dust still mouldering piteously,
But as the sure growth of a tree
That but to be itself desires ;
Because where wreckage meets your eye
We see but withered leaves, whose day
Is done, thrust forth by buds that lie
Soft, safe, till spring comes laughing by,
And whirled by God’s good winds away.
142
The Secret
" Blame not our pulse's steady beat ;
Still but your own heart's tumult, clear
As music riseth, low and sweet,
When diet the jangle of the street.
Spring's murmur you shall hear
doubt and fear shall tall from
And soft the v)ul of you shall sing,
Foreseeing sap at run anew,
Glory of leaf against the blue —
Spring, and the Master of the •priofl.
143
Sicut Ethnici
LORD, thou knowest ” this, that and the other,
A full half hour ; the angels look askance.
Why not let be, dear pertinacious brother,
And give the Lord a chance ?
Does memory play me false, or said one : " Enter
Thine heart's door, close it softly, turn the key ;
And in the silence of thy being's centre,
Lo, God will speak to thee ! ”
Shall these meticulous item-countings serve you ?
Skills it or want or weakness to aver ?
Lies there one thing without his sweeping purview
Who thought us, and we were ?
O, hush, hush, hush ! Forget yourself a little,
Your people, and your office, and its art;
Drop this poor juggler-play with jot and tittle —
Lie still against God's heart
144
Sicut Ethnic!
Wide-winged night will take you to her keeping,
Sage night, than day more marvellously clear;
And there at rest, nor waking, nor yet sleeping,
Love's message you shall hear.
145
The End
HARD has the way been—lone—and long, But there the citv lies !
All my being is shout and song,
As I stand and feast my eyes
Heat, cold, darkness, hunger, thirst,
Mirage’s maddening gleam,
Blinding dust-storm, thunder-burst —
Were they ? Or did I dream ?
I hardly know and I nothing care—
Let them fade ; let them pass away ;
One thing matters —the city there,
Scarce three short leagues away
Rouse thee, my soul! Beat high, my heart!
Though all hell lie in wait,
Play but the man, be what thou art,
And thou shalt win the gate.
146
Companions’ March Song
COME, brothers, let us sing Till the sleeping echoes ring,
As joyously we march along
To greet our King ;
For the hearts of us they know
'Tis from him the blessings flow
That compass us, and make us strong
To fight the foe
Most beautiful is he,
The flower of chivalry
His like in all the world nor men
Nor angels see ;
O, good it is to meet
Within his holv seat,
To kneel and take out vows again.
And touch his feet.
And when his hand divine
Hath traced the mystic sign,
As bright as at its hour of birth
Resolve shall shine ;
147
Companions’ March Song
So, onward all, and sing,
Till the echoes wake, and ring
To greet the lord of all the earth,
Our souls' true King !
M 3
Fata Morgana
WHAT dost thou here, Elijah ? ” “ Lord, dear Lord,
Baal hath put thy prophets to the sword.
A single seed fallen from thy great tree,
I only am escaped ; perchance to lie
And rot; perchance, the horror driven by
And happier days re-come, again to be
Proclaimer of the word of prophecy.”
"Up ! Get thee back, Elijah ; serve thy Lord ,
Speak, and concern thee not with fire or sword
Blindly the book of being hast thou read ;
Poor dreamer, know seven thousand such as thou
Remain, who scorn the traitorous knee to bow;
Seven thousand ! Hearken thou, and bend thy head—
These have not faltered ; thou alone hast fled."
149
Advent Hymn
O WORLD, all vainly spent In quest of sweet content,
Finding no help in toil that costeth dear
Turning thee back to him
Whose splendour through the dim
Abyss of years still shineth, wonder-clear ;
Lifting to him thy piteous eyes
O’er-brimmed with agony too deep, too real for cries
Know that thine unbreathed praye
Hath thrilled the upper air.
And reacht the ear of the great Lord of Love;
Hath fed the heart’s soft flame
Of him whose wondrous name
Is set in heaven all other names above,
Till he with such compassion burns
That from his native height to earth again he turns.
Waiteth a little space
The vessel of his grace—
For, of a truth, the holy babe is " born " ;
Needs but that he once more,
As erst bv Jordan's shore,
Descend in radiance that pales the morn—
Clothe him again in mortal frame.
Veil his bright essence in our garb of sin and shame.
150
Advent Hymn
Wake, ye whose hearts are stirred
At wonder of the word
He spake in Jewry, centuries agone
Who fain had walkt his ways,
And lain in still amaze
What time he taught the holy mount upon
The Master your husht hearts revere
Cometh, and of a surety, ye his voice shall hear
Would ye his followers be ?
Then turn you from the sea
Of human passions, cast no net again
In its salt waves ; behold,
Now, even as of old.
Fishers your Lord shall make you, but of men
Seek him not that your sorrow cease,
But that to sufferers ye be blest to bring his peace
Would ye his doctrine hear ?
Make heart and brain as clear
As is a child's of aught that may divide ;
Sweep out like foolish dust
Each human “ ought ” and “ must
The gates of reason, fling them open wide ;
Know him for very Christ and King—
Least, lightest of his royal words a priceless thing
" Friends," once he called his own
Would ye, too, thus be known ?
Then be not hearers only, doers be ;
151
Advent Hymn
Serve ; for no urging wait ;
To action swift translate
The counsels he shall speak so goldeniv :
Serve—heart, and soul, and mind, and strength ;
And ev'n upon his bosom ye shall lie at length.
Stand not astonied ; tiing
Doubts by the board —sing, sing !
He cometh ! Hush your heart's insistent beat
And listen stilly ; 10,
Heaven's harmonies, that flow
Already hither, soft, and super-sweet
Yet crescent on your listening ear
As nearer he approacheth earth, and yet more near
Join ye the song of praise
Joyful your voices raise,
Blend earth with heaven in worship of one Lord ;
East, west, and south, and north,
Send the glad tidings forth,
That richer, fuller grow the glorious chord :
He comes—his ancient word is true !
Hate's knell is sounding ; 10, he maketh all things new !
Hark, ye to whom he came,
Wearing another name,
Yet telling the same tale of love divine-
The winsome, wayward boy,
Who made hearts mad with joy.
And built by every human hearth his shrine :
152
Advent Hymn
Yea, earth's most sweetest songs were mute
Whenas men heard entranced the strains of
Krishna’s flute
How often have ve cried :
" Had we been by his side,
Had we been blest to hear those flutings wild ;
We too the world had thrown
Behind us, him alone
Had followed, followed, followed, love-beguiled ;
But now nor voice nor flutings steal
Thorough life's stridencies with magical appeal
" Bitter these darkling days,
Narrow and rough the way>
We stumble blindly in. and far the goal ;
The roaring world without
And hydra-headed doubt
Within, make havoc of the wildered soul :
Though by his grace we keep the course :
The joy he made to spring hath withered at its source."
Rouse ye ! The sun, whose beams
Alike from doubts and dreams
Shall purge you, mounteth even now the sky
See, on each soaring height
Spreadeth the tender light
Of rosy dawn, proclaiming " Day is nigh ' "
He cometh, who alone can fill
Your starved hearts ; and ve mav know him if ve will.
153
Advent Hymn
What though the outer ear
No witching cadence hear.
What though no measure tread his twinkling feet
Be yet of this most sure—
With music perfect-pure
Each heart that hears shall rapturously beat
Each soul respondent to his glanct
Shall yet with its beloved weave the mystic dance
Come he as rishi wise.
Gome he in kingly guise,
Play he the proudest or the humblest part—
Not by robe, crown, or sword
Shall any know his Lord,
But by the scarce-heard whisper of his heart;
Look not for outward badge or sign,
But strain vour souls to catch the thrill of life divine
O ye, the wide world o'er.
Who the one God adore
Throned afar, or walking earth's poor ways ;
Well knowing that no name
The lip of man can frame
Disparts the life ; no form its current stays :
Seeing God's prophets every one
As beam on splendent beam from the great central sun ;
Let laughter, and sweet mirth.
Deep in your souls have birth :
And, welling up, your whole glad being fill ;
154
Advent Hymn
Dawneth another day,
Sweepeth another ray
From the sole glory, willing but his will
Bearing fair freight of hidden things—
Healing, and more than healing, in his outstretcht wings
O ye, who still have felt
Life a mere horror ; knelt
Never in rapture in the place apart;
Yet with stark, human strength
Have fought—'tis yours at length.
The mighty mystery of the sacred heart :
Power have ye known, beneath, above—
He comes whose message runs : " Power verily is love."
In love the worlds are made ;
On love the worlds are staved ;
The worlds, grown old, are shattered by love's rod ;
Love-made, that whoso please
May leave his bliss-brimmed ease.
Go forth, and fight, and prove him very God ;
Love-stayed, lest barren effort be ;
Love shattered, that the radiant victor God rise fre<
And that those battle-tost.
Who in the strife have lost
All sense of all they were, and ever are,
Their true estate mav learn,
Their lineage high, and turn
From rim to centre —find their father star
And pierce illusion's every wile.
Love taketh ev'n our form, and treadeth earth awhile.
155
Advent Hymn
Blow winds —tell over earth
The story of his birth ;
Tell of the sure descending of the dove,
So that the holv vouth
Be chrismed with wisdom, truth—
Walk earth Christ. Krishna, Maitri, Lord of Love
Chant, winds, in everv startled ear,
" Wake, ye that sleep ! The world's desire is here —is here ! "
156
Reveillé
WAKE, brothers, wake, for the night is past The stars are hidden, and see, at last,
'Gainst bluest heaven the peak stands clear
And though we are lying in shadow deep,
Nought checks the great world's onward sweep—
Up, brothers, up ; have done with sleep,
For day, clear day, is here
The whole glad work of the world's to do ;
There's a place there for every server true ;
Swift then away to field, forest, mart
With song and laughter in even.- heart
While under all—strength of each emprise—
Rings our leader's voice, shine our leader's eye*
He knoweth all that the future hides;
To its consummation the work he guides ;
Never were failure for such as he—
The glory that God hath willed shall be
157
Divine Oblivion
SNOW ! I have watcht it since the dawn of day When the first flakes fell softly, loiteringly.
Through the still grayness, powdering the leaves
Of trees and bushes, powdering the grass.
Thinly at first, but ever more and more
Persistently, and faster, till all greenth
Was lost, and, the fall ceasing, wonderful,
O, very wonderful, past words, it lay,
One even whiteness.
Close-girt ’gainst the cold
I venture forth into the still, strange world,
Footing it ghostlike midst translated things,
Rapt ever further from the life that was
But a few hours agone, slipping its gyves,
Merging in something larger, lovelier,
More sweet and more serene
158
Divine Oblivion
Still where my eyes
Rove hither, thither —snow ! Nought poor, nought mean,
Nothing unsweet, unlovely anywhere ;
No litter of dead leaves, no noisome ooze
No fetid heaps of rotting rubbish, sad
Starved patches bare of aught but bitter weeds
Close caught on earth's lean bosom —only snow !
Returned, I scarce know how long after, one
Great thought I find, a song of silence born
Filling me wholly, this, that as the snow's
Incomparable pureness mantles o'er
The foul things of the earth, and hides her shame.
So love, soft falling, falling loiteringly
Lightly at first, but ever more and more
Persistently, on wayward human hearts
Rejecting none, embracing all mankind
Covers with her white veil their blemishes
159
To a Brave Woman
YEAR after year, from childhood to gray hair, O mother, thou hast toiled, and toilest still,
'Gainst time’s sure siege the indomitable will
Of youth still pitted ; strong, how strong ! to bear
The world’s neglect, and that sad weight of care
Ev’n they that loved thee well combined to fill :
Thy bursting heart with, fate’s supremest ill
So through blind love fell Baldur, reigned despair !
Why hast thou toiled so ? For meed of praise ?
From greed of gain ? Nay, love alone, pure, great
Of husband, child, and fellow swayed and sways
And still shall swav thee, nor shall know abate
Till God soft call thee home to wider ways
Than earth’s, thy last, best triumph over fate
160
The Crowning Grace
“ \ A ASTER, I walk in rags of reputation ; All have I given, all : what lack I yet ? ”
" If to be perfect be thine aspiration
Make still thy sacrifices, and—forget
161
O Magna Templa Celitum
THROUGH the valley, toward the height Onward through the holy night,
Swinging up till at my feet
I can trace each square and street
By the gold lights up and down
And round the little slumbering town
Angel companies they seem
Watching still that it may dream—
So mother watches lovingly
While sleeps the babe upon her knee.
Dear ones neath whose roof I spent
Evening hours of rich content
Somewhere yonder lie asleep
After one last smiling peep
Through their curtains, shake of head
O'er their foolish, fancy-led
Wayward, wild, night-wandering friend,
Whom yet —might every good attend !
Their prayer is answered, witness bliss
That fills me, bears me up, till this
Poor " muddy vesture of decay "
Seems rather fire and air than clay
No longer tramps it, left and right—
Floats rather through the holy night
162
O Magna Templa Coelitum
The stars ! Dear God, what magic lies
In these thy silver-spangled skies !
If off one venturously tear
Each swathing, till he lay him bare,
No rag of feeling, thought, or sense
Between him and their influence.
Ev'n as the moon-lured waters roll
Shoreward, will fill and flood his soul,
Softly resistless, something past
All speech, all thought, so fine, so vast
So all beyond him yet so near.
In all life's treasure nought so dear
Awesome as space, so high 'twere sin
Almost to breathe, and yet akin
And bubbling all with joyous mirth
Light, laughterful as homely earth
Long, long ago in early youth—
How I remember ! But in truth
These things are not of time—l strode
Through such a night, on such a road.
Swung me as stoutly up the steep
Drawing slow, easy breaths, and deep.
With neither past nor time to be
Concerned, but revelling in the free
Fine action of a lean, lithe frame,
When round a sudden bend I came,
Swept heavenwards a careless eye.
Beheld just such a spangled sky
And, thrilled, heart-stilled, in wild amaze
Stayed step, stood motionless at gaze.
163
O Magna Templa Coelitum
All difference ceased ; nor time nor space
Nor I nor other, that nor this,
Existed ; in one sea of bliss
All opposites were merged.
At last
It broke, the spell upon me cast
By the holy night, and with its breaking
I, to conditioned being waking,
Found myself on a changed earth,
A realm not sad but bright with mirth
Divine, no desert but a bower
Of beauty. Weakness into power
Transmuted, day on joyous day
Crowded, the heaviest task was play;
Tears fell no more, and full and strong
Pulsed through me life's triumphant song,
164
Maya
" \ V7IND sleeps, O sea, and you too sleep ; VV Wind blows thus, and you ramp and roar—
Thus, your bold breakers cringe, and creep
In helpless self-contempt to shore;
Wind is your master ! " " Nay, a-chase
Of phantoms, wind, since time began.
Has tost my tresses, kist my face —
What knows he of my heart, O man ? ,J
165
Bethesda
Salvation Army Hospital)
BROKEN I lay. One helpt me to the poo! And plunged me deep, deep in its waters cool
And as I still sank into the profound
A sleep like death wrapt all my being round
Past certain timeless times. I rose again,
Saw light of day, the pleasant world of men
And 10, God's smiling angelry, who drew
Me marvelling to solid earth anew
To find me whole, the horror that had been
From my rejoicing bodies blotted clean
O, the dear faces ! O, the gentle hands !
Shall I forget them ? Never ! While there stands
Of one sole porch one stone, or far or near
Dwell I on earth, or pass to subtler sphere
Now, and henceforward, and for evermore
My love upon this place of love shall pour !
166
A Face
IT hangs there, centre of the little shrine Wherein I lose myself from day to day
Only to find myself again in him
Whose life of perfect loveliness inspired
The sculptor to give breath to stone, and dower
The world with just one precious thing the more,
Precious beyond all telling. Child, youth, man,
Still have I drawn from that exhaustless fount
Something of that his " Consummatum " telli
Even to our dull hearts ; some reflex faint
Of his dispassionate love, his strength superb
The stirless depths of his serenity
Thorn-crowned and crucified, yet never sign
Of bodily pain, or inward agony
Mars his calm Godhood, who indeed had power
To lay down life, to take life up again
Who came to do his will that sent him forth,
Saw of the travail of his soul, returned
167
A Face
Childhood and youth and manhood it hath blest,
That face ; O, may it bless me till the end,
Whether that end a little sooner come
So that earth's shadowy-beauteous mirrorings
Pass in the endless wonder of the real;
Or tarry, and I tarry, and live on
Until the Master cometh, and this face
With all its loveliness be drowned deep,
As stars are drowned at noontide, in his light !
168
A Birthday Greeting
DEAR, if the heart within me could mint itself in song.
What golden words would reach thee as the dav,
Thy day, first flings it glories the whole broad sky along
In its own superb, reserveless, royal way.
They would murmur to thee softly, they would tell thee
all that lies
Far in the stirless depths of me untold
Beyond the furthest reaches of thine earnest, searching eves —
They would tell it all, those bits of burning gold !
They would fill thee with sweet laughters, and with joy
so keen, so keen,
Thine eyes would brim with mingled light and tears ;
And peace would crown thy struggle; forth thou
wouldst step serene.
Casting afar the burden of the years.
My heart, I cannot mint it; that song shall not be sung ;
Broken the speech, shall try thy patient ear
Yet, yet, despite the broken speech, despite the stam-
menng tongue,
Perchance, perchance the soul of thee shall hear.
164
To Ada Grossley
OUT of the deep a voice sang. At its tone The charmed waves of plastic space that still
In dreamless sleep had steept her, at his wi
Woke, whom none nameth save in heart alone
The moved waves upleapt : the vast was sown
With radiances ; delicious thrill on thrill
Swayed, sundered, joined the palpitant waters till
To most magnificent order all was grown.
Out of the deep a voice sings, thine, this day
And the charmed waves of plastic human minds
Leap to the mastering music of thy lay
Rich with earth's runes, wistful as wandering winds :
And soft as star-shine ; leap, and surge, and sway
Till each, soul-stilled, the heart of beauty finds
170
Mid-Year
NEATH this one sheltering rock on the hill’s long Bare crest —the air is chill—l sit; and slow Turn seeking eyes upon the plain below
Whose laughing loveliness in summer's reign
Set heart a-dance, and lured lips into song
Ah, the green, gallant, glancing ghosts that throng
My memory, the while eyes seek in vain,
The while eyes rove up, down, across—across
Down, up again, scarce daring to take in
Present to the inner man of me, the thin
Colourless, spectral aquarelle. Sweet zea
Dear sense, yet it exceeds ; for bitter loss
Irreparable, it were aside to toss
In scorn one least forthshadowing of the real.
Rove again, eyes, nor this time vision dim
With any foolish veil : your part play—see
If low boon nature in her wisdom key
Her scheme, the keener be man, heart and mind,
To match her subtler mood ; for., though she limn
Even in monotone, each stroke's a-brim
With all her wonder, and who seeks shall find
171
Mid-Year
In the far distance yonder, where hills loom
Gathering the straitened vale in loving arms,
Mark the soft blue that shrouds the furthest farms
And clothes the lower slopes, whence boldly rise,
Bush-shagged, the steeps, in their turn giving room
To snow-clad summits, cold as who deals doom,
Clear-cut as temple fronts against the sky
Those leafless willows, huddled now, now free,
Straggling across the open flat like trails
Of gray mist torn by wanton, laughing gales
Betray the hidden river's wayward course
Dark gum-belts mark the highway, and on lea,
Lakeside, and hillslope, here, there, yonder, see-
The sombre clumps of erstwhile golden gorse
Mark that antique steel mirror, ivory-framed
A blue lagoon, beringed with soft gray-green
It was when last from this same hill-top seen
By these same eyes a few short months ago.
Is it less lovely ? Is the presence shamed
By memory of the presence ? Stands she maimed,
Beauty, that thrilled me to the heart’s core ? No—
No ; whole and sweet and one she ever stands,
Changeless within all change ; she doth but cloke
Her form in daintier vestures to provoke
Deeper desires, these too to satisfy ;
She would not have us sit with folded hands.
Sated, sunk all to sloth, the while time's sands
Run swiftly and inevitably by
172
Mid-Year
Said eyes thin, spectral, colourless ? Nay, nay— Full, living, myriad-toned. lam no child By bright hue and crude mass to be beguiled
While delicate shading, exquisite tracery
Lie all about me through the livelong dav.
Their charm unnoted ; I have put awav
Things childish ; beautv evervwhere I see
Beauty in birth, death, binding and setting free In shoot, bud, blossom, seed-time and decay ;
Brilliance of sunrise, elowine end of dav
Moonlight and starshine. grayness, and sheer eloom ;
In waving corn, black, earth ; in blossoming tree
Tree leaf-bright, fruited, bare —deliciously
Thrill melts in thrill as form to form gives room
Through fresh-flung hue, through ever new-traced line,
Gleams loveliness, gleams beauty, whole, sweet, one —
Beautv beninnindess, that end hath none.
That was, is, and shall be. From height to clod.
From clod to height, the unnumbered forms enshrine
One loveliness, one life, one self divine
One are these three —life, loveliness, and God
173
Fetterless
"K TO stars ! The sky was hidden. Chill
i-N The night-wind struck upon my face
A moment, died ; then all grew still,
I walkt—you know the place—
Up the white gravel towards the belt
Of gums that gloomed a blacker black
•\gainst the night; and sudden felt
Rapt far from tree or track
Thou earnest, brak'st upon my dream :
As thy whole being, full and strong
Swept into mine, my joy supreme
Poured through my lips in song
Ah, love, I knew not what I sang !
And, certes, he who overheard
My voice as through the night it ran:
Could understand no word
174
Fetterless
Yet, though he marvelled at my speech,
If so be love hath made him free
His leaping heart the truth would teach —
He knew I sang of thee
170
All-conquering Love
Verona, 15
MAD prank, but O, most memorable night, For jest to earnest turned as eyes met eyes.
Soul to soul laughing through earth's fresh disguise.
They left the levels, rose to love's rare height,
Knew joy ineffable, dwelled in living light
One perfect moment; then in crazed surprise
Crasht helpless, horror-stricken, from the skies —
Quencht in swift death the raptures of their flight
And we, the while we heap the fragrant pyre,
That red eclipse of beauty shall we mourn ?
Nay, for earth's highest height yields but to higher ;
What recks the soaring life of vesture torn '
Bliss know they from whose sacrificial fire,
Hate purged away, sweet love, fair peace, are born.
176
A Farewell Word
T PRAY you do not grieve for me; 1 ..tv vears,
.ave said good-bve
-
Eye A not with tears !
I pray you do not weep for me
Your manlihead defame
oa> the shel
That served me well
Is given to the flame
Why, if the time of toil be done
And one bear home his sheaves,
Should not the earth
Resound with mirth ?
Is he a friend that grieves ?
Why. if. a hard day's labour o'er,
One lays him down and sleeps.
Were it not best
Fhank heaven for rest ?
ne indeed that w
1-2
A Farewell Word
Nay, but were one, in exile lone,
Called home by kingly grace
Would sorrow dim
Or joy for him
Transfigure every face ?
I bring my laden wagon home
Lay down a worn frame ; free
From foreign strand
To my own land
Return—rejoice with me !
178
A La Soldate
i
EVER it sings, my soldier soul. As on I tramp to my far set goal.
Friends reproach me, foes deride—
Shall that put me out of my stride ?
Folly and failure they descry.
No more. The worse for their eyes, say I!
II
Ever it sings, my soldier soul,
As on I tramp to my far-set goal
For I know, life's fitful fever cured,
Shall shine forth that its frets obscured
Yes, otter's hectic hour once past
Same shall come to its own at last !
179
“The Might of Gentleness”
PUSH KARA SARIN, Brahmana of fame. Dwelling in warlike Kosala of old,
Heard rumour of the Blessed One, who taught
At Shravasti, for now the monsoon blew
Not yet all-perfected, the sage was vext
Within him by the swelling tide of praise
That bore the lightest sayings of the Lord
Like fringe of pearly foam upon its crest
"Go thou," he cried, " Appriya, best belov'd
Of all my dear disciples ; eagerest thou
To find high truths, sternest to live them, found,
Keenest to see the mote, the slip, the flaw-
That damns false doctrine ; go thou, hear this sage
Shoot thy keen shafts through all his subtleties.
And bring me hither word again with speed."
Master, I go; fear not,” Appriya said
With due obeisances ; “ whom thou hast trained
Appearances befool not; windy laud
Of uninstructed multitudes- —who knows
The place of peace within where passions die ;
What cares he for the billow and the gale
That roar without ? Fear not the issue ; swift
I go, unmoved I listen, swift return."
180
181
“The Might of Gentleness”
Swift went Appriya, swift returned—so far
Made good his boast; but not unmoved he sat
At feet of whom the whole world honours, nay !
Nay, for the wondrous beauty of the Lord,
The matchless wisdom, the entrancing flow
Of nobly rhythmed speech, wrought all his being
To one reserveless worship ; and the joy,
The love, the wonder, and the gratitude—
He poured it all, a torrent of wild words
In his shockt Master's ear. " Come, come, O come."
Breathless he ended ; " come thou, too, and hear
Such voice as never spake on earth before ! "
Pushkarasarin, not yet perfected.
Shamed thus by his most trusted, best belov’d
Deserted for the people's idol, fell
Shot into sudden life the lingering germs
Of pride, self-love, and hatred. On a gust
Of mere blind earthly passion borne, he snatcht
What weapon lay to hand, his shoe, and rusht
Savagely on Appriya. who in pain
Of heart to see his guru sin, forgot
The little smart of blows. The sudden storm
Spent itself, and the sage, withdrawn once more
To the serener heights of reason, mused :
' Appriya fails me ; I myself will go "
" The Might of Gentleness "
In Jeta-vana sat the Blessed One,
Awaiting him who came. O, well he knew
The greatness and the littleness that strove
In Pushkarasarin's soul; and lovingly
Received he him, and gently he dispelled
The hostile, self-born mood, till the real man
Shone through the thinning veils of earth ; and then,
Keying his discourse higher, long the Lord
Spake of the living truths which he had learned
Beneath the bodhi tree ; and that great soul
Purged of all stain, drank in the dharma pure
A? drinks well-washen cloth some gorgeous dye;
Saw the truth, found the truth, discerned the truth,
Mastered truth fully, the whole depth of truth
Plumbed, crost beyond uncertainty, dispelled
All doubt, saw of his own soul's proper sight,
No more as in a glass another holds—
Saw the inevitable, shakeless fact
Of facts, the changeless basis of all change,
Through the Lord's words. Then rising very glad.
He threw his raiment back, and, with claspt hands
Worshipping, cried : " O glorious, glorious Lord,
In thee I take my refuge ; in thy law.
And in thine order ; make me of thy band ;
Henceforth while life lasts thine, thine, thine am I."
i? 7
Amritsar
TWAS here it fell ! The horror happened here, When panic, hidden in the noble guise
Of dutv, loosed his levin ; and the cries
Of innocent victims rose unto his ea:
To whom creation's symphony mounts clear
To the least last chord and discord ; while his eyes
The sparrow's fall that mark, from his far skies
Beheld the emptied streets, death-strewn and drear.
Can we forget—dare we forget such wrong ?
Rich in the silence rings her counsel high
Whom India loves : " O, hearken to the song
The mightiest sang, and put blind passion by ;
To the wronged alone forgiveness doth belong—
Rise to its splendour ; so shall hatred die.”
183
The Liberator
THE morn is cold ; not one bright beam To earth a way has found ;
Men go and come
With faces glum
And eyes upon the ground, Self-centred ; very, very few
Rise to quick nod, brisk " How d'you do
Immured ev'n as these others are
Am I, when, joy, the gate's ajar !
Look where that young girl waits her car,
Or—no, I do not dream.
A scarlet cloke, a scarlet hat
On figure trim and slight— Flasht on this gray
And bitter day
How comforting a sight
Dear lass, you warm my very heart; Chance is it ? Nature ? Purest art ? A gift, say, you might not refuse ? A blind out-reach toward brilliant hues Or lingering, loving, did you choose, And was the issue that ?
184
The Liberator
A scarlet hat, a scarlet cloke
On figure slight and trim.
And snapt in twain
Is winter's chain
That weighed down heart and limb
Praise be, whate'er the wonder wrought;
But picture with such magic fraught
Nor nature paints, nor chance ; this thing
That makes grim winter laughing spring,
That sets the very soul a-ring.
Art drew its every stroke
Why strive not all of us to lend
Our touch of colour clear
Ere chance be past ?
Time's canvas vast
Is all too dull and drear.
Colour—as live as flame, as bright
As flash of sword that takes the light,
As soft and faint as moonbow's tale
Of tincts, but colour ! Still we fail,
Still listless, drab, through life we trail ;
But must we till the end ?
185
To One Beset
THOU wilt not fly ! Here God hath work for thee, Thou witness of his truth ; too wide the field,
Too few the labourers, for thee to yield
Though fortune scowl, friends waver, even lie
Whom once thy true heart trusted utterly
Against thee utterly his heart hath steeled—
Deep wounds, yet deeper love divine hath healed,
And peace and gladness thine again shall be.
Power hast thou wandering, wildered sons of men
To guide from the low, lightless waste they plod,
From foul morass and pestilential den.
Up to the heights serene the Christs have trod ;
Stay, for thy strength shall be the strength of ten ;
Speak, from thy lips shall peal the voice of God.
186
Manna
THOU art to me O, wellaway,
What earthly image can convey
To other mind, to other heart,
A tithe of what to me thou art !
Thou art to me
The little breeze
That half awakes the dreaming trees
And is not, yet hath left a gleam
Of love and laughter in their dream —
Thou art to me
Heaven’s burning blue
The wide sky's snowy fleeces through
One wildering moment seen of men
As swift they part and close again—
Thou art to me
The flooding rose
That pours warm life o'er Stiriess snows—
The sudden song, celestial wine
That fills with rapture day's decline —
18a
Manna
Thou art to me . . .
The brooklet's croon
In the soft dark—
The curved moon —
A shaft of sunlight through young leases—
A white flower tossing neath low eaves—
Thou art to me . . .
Thou art to me
Essence of life’s wild witchery,
God's smile, deep-rooted in God's heart—
That's what thou art
That’s what thou art!
188
The Venus of Milo
THE fierce fanatic stayed his steps before That perfect form, and, scowling, raised his mace
The marble crasht; again ; and all the place
Rang horribly as on the paven floor
Fell those two exquisite arms, for evermore
Lost to the world. And then from that sweet face
Serene, the Godhood surely smiled, for grace
Toucht that rude heart; the murderous hand forbore
Spell-bound he gazed. He felt his passion die ;
He felt supernal loveliness in, in
Sweep like a great tide, bursting barriers by,
Intent his life's last citadel to win ;
Monk became man, and with a bitter cry
He fled the appalling presence of his sin
189
Renewal
i
HOW steept in peace this charmed spot, Some dainty dryad's secret grot ;
How sweet; how still; how green ; how cool!
Moveless the air ; one scarce discerns
The trees, the grasses, and the ferns
Above, upon the banks that grow
From their bright images below
In the translucent pool;
And, as I live, a patch of blue,
Heaven's own inimitable hue,
Away in the far depths I view !
Look, look! a flash of sudden white,
To brim perfection’s cup ;
Some bird that wheels against the light
Of the glad sun above—below —
O, lam lost; tell, ye who know,
Look I or down or up ?
190
Renewal
ii
Hour upon hour has slipt away;
Heaven's blue is dimmed —'tis close of day!
From all this beauty I must part.
Ferns, grasses, trees, sweet pool, adieu
Loth, loth am I to turn from you,
And might indeed have vainly striven
But for the gift that ye have given,
This peace that fills my heart
Back to the world of men I fare,
Its heat, its din, its sluggish air ;
But through the glitter and the glare
Clear-eyed, erect, unfaltering
I shall stride on with head uplift;
For deep within my heart shall sing
Deliriously, nor ever cease
My spirit, in that perfect peace
Enwrapt—your gracious gift
191
The Secret of the Sea
OUT on a jade field, pearl-bestrewn Great purple islets lie,
And slowly shift
Their shapes, and drift
(So dancers drift to a tired tune)
As the white clouds pass on high
And now there is never an islet there,
There is nought but the pearl-strewn jade
Stretcht to the far
Horizon bar
Like a dew-sprent meadow whose daisies fair
Sport with some zephyr strayed.
Look, it is jade no longer ; who,
Though artist past all peer
Minion of fame.
Shall give it name,
That soft, strange, stirring, stilling hue
Lent of some holier sphere?
192
The Secret of the Sea
Again, transfiguration past,
Past that blest mvsterv
Of this our world
Once more, unpearled.
Unfleckt, a clouded sapphire vast
Lies the beloved sea
The long day's brilliant sunset show
Like smoke-wreath floats awav ;
Neath clean-swept sky
The waters lie
Still —scarce I catch their whisperings low—
One ever-deepening gray
Night reigneth. Much her piercing eyes.
May see, her quick ears hear ;
On formless dark.
I gaze ; but hark !
What deep, rich, mellow boomings rise
Thence to mv ravisht ear
Change, change, change as the moments fly :
Since the far first '" Let there be !
That gave thee range
Thou hast known but change ;
Yet to true love's unblinded eve
Thou art ever the changeless sea.
193
On New Year’s Eve
THIS is the time of the end. O year That diest fast, have we aught achieved,
We youngest of all the nations here
The Ruler of men is he glad or grieved
As he looketh down from his station higl
On this small corner of striving earth
Gathereth all with inerrant eye,
And weigheth our worthlessness, our worth —
So much of folly, so much of sense ;
So much of weakness, so much of power-
Noteth the moment of life intense
That covereth hour on nerveless hour ?
Is he grieved or glad for us ? Who can tell!
Our fields may smile, our factories whirr
With joyous movement, our coffers swell
With gold, and all be life and stir
On us the world may envious gaze
May rise to admiration just,
Pour on us warm and generous praise
Yet all in his balance be but dust
How doth he judge ? We know not. Yet-
May it not be he would have us grow
Nearer the exquisite pattern set
Some twice ten centuries ago ?
194
On New Year’s Eve
May count as dross every gift we bring
So the heart be hard ; may all else above
Watch for the budding, the blossoming
Of brotherly kindliness and love !
O year that strugglest to the birth
Whenas thou liest where he lies.
Thy predecessor, now, may mirth
Divine fill hearts, curve lips, brim eyes—
Mirth for a great thing greatly done
The barriers burst and scattered all
That barred out soul from soul; the one
Life sensed ; past, past beyond recall
The days of our self-centredness
When, so we prospered, nought cared we
Who found life bitter, knew distress,
Died cursing fate or deity
Past —past. O year, if it be thin
To see man rise to vision clear,
Know himself verily divine
Thou shalt be an immortal year
For of the ever longed for age
Of gold thou'lt mark the wondrous birth—
Age which, ere time its beauteous page
Hath turned, shall stablish heaven on earth
If? Thou that wakedst by battle clash
Our glassy essence that still slept,
Shewed as by sudden levin flash
Life's issues, so we laughing leapt
To arms, naught weighing but thy will,
195
On New Year’s Eve
Breathe on us soft-insistently
Fanning the kindled flame, until
All's fire, and this in truth shall be !
196
Coulls Somerville Wilkie Ltd
Printers, Dunedin
,.^jm _ 1 ■— .. ■■-.-.. t , i ■HBBKtts^ 1 **' ~~
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/books/ALMA1931-9917502523502836-Soundings
Bibliographic details
APA: Marsyas. (1931). Soundings. Coulls Somerville Wilkie.
Chicago: Marsyas. Soundings. Dunedin, N.Z.: Coulls Somerville Wilkie, 1931.
MLA: Marsyas. Soundings. Coulls Somerville Wilkie, 1931.
Word Count
22,186
Soundings Marsyas, Coulls Somerville Wilkie, Dunedin, N.Z., 1931
Using This Item
Out of copyright (New Zealand)
To the best of the National Library of New Zealand’s knowledge, under New Zealand law, copyright in this book has expired.
You can copy this item, share it, and post it on a blog or website. It can be modified, remixed and built upon. It can be used commercially. If reproducing this item, it is helpful to include the source.
For further information please refer to the Copyright guide.