Transcription
PUBLISHER S NOTE.THEYale Series of Younger Poets is designed to afford a publishingthe work of young men and women who have not yetsecured a wide public recognition. It will include only such verse asseems to give the fairest promise for the future of American poetry,to the development of which it is hoped that the Series may prove astimulus. Communications concerning manuscripts should be addressedto the Editor, Professor Charlton M. Lewis, 425 St. Ronan Street,medium forNew Haven,Connecticut.ISSUED, OR PLANNED FOREARLY PUBLICATIONTHE TEMPERING. By Howard Buck.FORGOTTEN SHRINES. By John Chipman Farrar.FOUR GARDENS. By David Osborne Hamilton.SPIRES AND POPLARS. By Alfred Raymond Bellinger.THE WHITE GOD AND OTHER POEMS. By Thomas Calde-VOLUMESI.II.III.IV.V.cotVI.Chubb.WHERELILITH DANCES. By Darl Macleod Boyle.
WhereLilithDancesDARL MACLEOD BOYLENEW HAVEN YALELONDON.UNIVERSITY PRESSHUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY.MDCCCCXXPRESS
,HCOPYRIGHT, 192O, BYYALE UNIVERSITY PRESS
TO MY MOTHER:Before mine eyes had seen the light of day,that my soul had come from Heaven s great King,harmless, tiny, helpless little thing,You loved me/ While my tender being layIn the soft rose-leaves of your heart at rest,Like some wee bird within its downy nest,Beneath the skelter of its mother s wing,Unborn, your soul came in my heart to dwell,Like perfume in the flower, each part to bringAs warmth unto the young bird in its shell,And built me up to what I was to be,OrAAsemblance of thyself. Thus, being castIn thy heart s mould, I grew up like to thee:Thou wert my first friend and wilt be my last!64C513
CONTENTS.DedicationPART.5I.nWhereLilith DancesEre the Years Numbered NineThe Cave of Bethlehem.15.1718HairstHush an a HushWhaur the Winds Blaw.Free.19.20.PART II.The Vision of GraceThe StrangerShadowsWhen I Am OldAll Souls EveThe Mother of Us AllThe Irish WakeThe Curtain.23.28.29x.PrimrosesThe Church of KnockeMorning and NightThe Lattice.IdealismPARTIII.and Peace Have Kissed EachMakers of Heroes"RighteousnessThe Angels ofPoland, 1915Mons.Other"./.-Fire.the Fallen of the NationsStrengthen Us Now!Onward Ye GoDulce et Decorum47.48.The Red ReaperThe Dead Death s-Head HussarAs It Were a Sea of Glass Mingled withTo31323335.3638.4142-43.3.49515253545556575
The Night WindA.Blind SoldierRussiaGod Forbid"MyItMe"59606365
PARTI
WHERELILITH DANCES.[According to Rabbinical legend, Adam and Lilith, his firstwife, quarreled as soon as they were created, as to which shouldbe master. Lilith, in anger at Adam s claim, repeated a spellwhich gave her wings, and fled to the wild places of the earth.She married Sammael, a fallen Angel, and in conspiracy withhim compassed the fall of Adam and Eve by borrowing theform of the Serpent which guarded the gate of Eden, andtempting the woman from the midst of the foliage of the treeof knowledge of good and evil. Hence in old Italian picturesof the Temptation, the Serpent is sometimes represented with abeautiful woman s face. A curse was laid on Lilith that nochild of hers should live; and she henceforth had a terriblepower over children, who, when they sicken and die, are saidto be bewitched by her. She was doomedforever to wanderunseen, unloved, alone.]I.three tall cypresses stand darkAgainst a setting sun,the shades of night lurk in their leavesWHEREAndEre ever the day be done,Andthe day-blind batsflitmournful by,Ere ever the night be won,AndWhothe great white owl, he waits for hercomes when the day is done:II.Or, in the glade of a mystic wood,Beneath a midnight sky,Where the satyrs dance neath the strange, gauntAnd the moon looks from on highO, the wicked moon, she sees and laughs,:As she passes swiftly byBut the pale, shy stars turn!Fromthe light in Lilithstheir eyeseye:llawaytrees,
III.For the dead gaunttrees feel theirbuds break greenWhenAndAndAndLilith dances past,the little twigs all shake with joywhisper soft "At last!"Sawandthe little night-flowers smileFor the morning cometh fast;And the holy stars had no peacethey her gliding pastsigh,heavenin!IV.O, the weird white mistletoe bends from the oak,As she danceth beneath the trees,And the perfume of dark night-flowers creeps outAnd hangs on the trembling breeze,And the dim red poppy, whose name is Dream,Longs for her flowing hair,And the great white poppy of dreamless sleepDroops over Lilith s lair,But the wine-dark poppy, whose gift is Death,Stands lone in thechillnight air!V.\Or, in a storm-vext mountain passBy the torrents shuddering foam,She danceth with the lonely winds,the clouds that know no homeAndContent, remembering LilithRound;s face,the round world to roam!VI.And bythe side of a reedy stream,On a white dream-night in June,When reed and iris whisper softTheirsecrets to themoon,Her feet keep time to the pipes of Pan,As he plays a mystic tune,And the young wind wakes before the dawn,The dawn that breaks too soon.12
VII.Or, ofttimes through a little townBuilt long and long ago,She glides adown the grass-grown ways,Beneath the full moon s glow.Othe moon gleams red o er the ancient town,Lilith passes slowAnd!VIII.Orsome antique garden strays,Beneath a hedge of yew,And from the rich red roses shakesThe treasures of the dew;But she goes not nigh the lilies tall,inThe Virgins lilieswhite,For Lilith loves notMarysflower,Gift of the Angel bright:She loves the poppy whose nameAnd the deadly flowers of night.isSleep,IX.Or whereAthe weird whitehawthorn makesin the night,And all the trees are dreaming deepBathed in the chill moonlight,glimmerTis there and then that Lilith meetsThespiritsof the night;X.In the dim, haunted vale they danceBeside the pools of sleep,But they go not up the mountain sideThatrises grey and steep,For there the lonely rowanTheir holy vigil keep.treesXI.the first faint flush of dawnTinges the desert sands,And the desert, like a mighty sea,Or,when13
Stretches to distant lands,Ere ever the sun has risen yet,For a moment s space she stands.Or ontheXII.waves of the foaming seaShe dances through the night,And rides through the mist and theOn the great wave-crests of white.dashing spray,She sports with sea-maids on the sands,Beside the moaning waves,And the sea-flowers quiver and cling to herAs sheglides through ocean-caves,the lonely sailor hears her songRise through the surging waves.AndOftin theXIII.dreaming meadows,When children are at play,Beside the flower-twined hedgerow,At the dim close of day,Poor childless Lilith beckons,Andbids the children stay,from LilithTheir white souls flee awayButat one glanceseyes!XIV.And mortal man who seesBy wood or lake or shore,her dance,Will roam the world for love ofher,Nor knows he joyance more,And he who heareth Lilith singWill neer be as before.XV.Forsong are youth and age,Evening, the sea-waves knell,And storm, and death, and moonlit skies,And thoughts that none may tell,And he who hears can ne er have peace,Through Earth and Heaven and Hell!in herH
ERE THE YEARS NUMBERED NINE.the lang, lang syne,the world was a toy,the years numbered nine,INWhenEreI remember one joy:Twas to rise in the greyOf a white winter s mornWhenthe low sunsred rayMade the world forlorn,To see on the paneThe magic JackFrostHad wrought once again,And in silver embossed:Strange seas of white spray,That fell not nor rose;White trees that ne er swayIn a wind that ne er blows;Silver streams mong the hillsOf a far silver moon;White noonday that chills,White skies in a swoon.Since then I have seenSnowy range upon rangeLift its far head serene,Vast, kingly and strange ;White sea-waves that frozeBefore they could fall,Flush of soft sunset roseOn the high snowy wall,Mountain-clouds in the noon,Dim, mocking the sight,And where the white moonWalked alone on the height;Yet these sights never movedNor made myheart fainthe grey dawns I loved,And the frosts on the paneAs!
Strange seas of white spray,That fell not nor rose;White trees that ne er swayIn a wind that ne er blows;Silver streams mong the hillsOf a far silver moon;White noonday that chills,White skies in a swoon.But that was lang syne,the world was a toy,Ere the years numbered nine,When to live was a joy!When16
THE CAVE OF BETHLEHEM."I.The ox knowethTHEowner, and the ass his masterhisOx.nicht the Bairnie layTHATMang the sweet-smellinhay,His young een dazed wi kings an aHis heid He turned roonAn ower Him bendin doon,There lookit intae His twa saft broontheir sheen;,Heeen.reached His wee hanTaes ootthe big gentle brute,face smiled intae the big broon een;low the great heid bent,The weeFuAs gin fu weel heWhaII.kenttwas had come tae cure the beasties teenTHEThey!Ass.crooded a the wee low cave,Great shinin kings wi mony a slave,Frae oot the gowden East,Horses o war an camels great,Harnessed in a the pride o state,An mony a huntin beast.The Bairnie looked them up an doon,Ancarelesswas Hisee;heid He turned roonAn looked an smiled at me.Some day wha kens? a King may rideThen slow HisFu lowly doon,themountainTae auld Jerus lem toonAnAnAncroods will cheer anfillthe air wiDavidside,;wavetheir palms,spsalms,fling their garments doon.o ma tribe for Him that dayWill wait whaur twa roads meet,Tae bear Him doon the mountain way,AneAn upthe city street!17scrib."
HAIRST.MIbut a puir bitAn whenlassie,s wark s dune,wander ower the heather hillTae watch the settin sunBut O, it s nae the sunset,But a bluid-red field I seethedayI;:Anmabonnie laddieIn the Laigh CountreeO,!NooWisilent is the hairst field,r three woman folk,Fu weary bend the warkers,Nae laugh nor daff nor talk;twaAn I see anither hairst field,Whaur the sheaves lie silentlyAn O, ma bonnie laddieIn the Laigh Countree:!Aneath the roon, red hairst moonI gang ma lee alane;There s mony a ane that s strong and haleWill never see it wane.I wonder what it s lookin onFar, far across the sea,O, ma bonnie laddieAnIn the Laigh Countree!But O,For aWhaurIwadna hae himmaheartshere,sae sair;should he be but whaur he4Should I ne er see him mair ?Wha wants a cooard for a lad*?Twere better far tae dee;But O, ma bonnie laddieIn the Laigh Countree!18is,
JHUSH TAN A HUSH.TUSH, an a hush, ma bonnie wee laddie,Daddy s awa, an awa, tae the war;JL 1;Daddy s ne er seen his gowden-haired laddie,An noo he s awa sae far, an sae far!ma bonnie wee laddie,for mither an you;iSoon he ll be hame tae his ain wee bit laddie,An bonnie blue een will smile intae blue!Hush, aniDaddyisa hush,fichtinHush, an a hush, ma bonnie wee laddie,iWhat makes ye stare wi yer bonnie bricht ee*?s noucht but th moonglintin in at the window,[ItjAn Daddy s awa in the Laigh Countrie!Hush, an a hush, ma bonnie wee laddie,Daddy s awa, an awa, tae the war;JDaddy s ne er seen his yellow-haired laddie,An noo he s awa sae far, an sae far!
WHAUR THE WINDS BLAWOWHAwillFREE.gang wi me the day,An wha will bide at hame?The waves are ripplin blithe an gay,Awi snawy faem;sparklin noo an still,But that s no the way for me,I m gangin up the heather hill,Whaur the winds blaw free!fleckedTheseaisThe lawlanAsliefu fair taesee,glinten in the sun,The gowden corn sways bonnily,The hairst is noo begun;But we ll gang up the mountainside,Withe bracken tae the knee,An there we ll run, an thereWhaur the winds blaw free!Withe kindly heatherTheblueweneath oorridefeet,liftowerheid,ll hae nae thocht othe cityland or wealth nae need;For a the warld oor ain is still,WeOThellstreet,earth, the sky, the sea,When we wanderW haurTtheAn whenower the heatherwinds blaw free.hillgangs doon the sun,haze,ll tell auld tales o deeds were dune,In Scotia s ancient days ;Until the auld heroic dead,Frae earth an frae the sea,Stand there upon the heather hillWhaur the winds blaw freeRedWein aat lastgowden!20
PARTII
THE VISION OF GRACE.I.SAID:"Itismydue,I Weighed in the balance trueWherewith God weighs the wages of HisThe soul hath her own pride,Which will not be denied,And spurns to beat at HeavensSaints.gate,Beggared and desperate,Cringing for her own withfinger on the flaw,Show me the broken law,criesandplaints.PutThefoot that slipped into the mire of flesh.did the world enmeshWhenWithinitsgolden netThe pilgrim soulWhose far invisibleBeyondgoalthe starry galaxyThereforeit isIwas set?spurnThat whichI did not earn,dole flung to me of a God s mere grace,arbitrary favour of His face."TheAndAvoice behind me spoke;Like a whole sea it broke,And shook from pole to poleThe sureness of my steadfast soul"Yea, art thou so complete,;Frompoised head to conquering feetof clay in all thy golden frame,reft of sin, alloy of blame*?Thou boastest thou dost spurnWhate er thou didst not earn ;When didst thou earn the I, the Me?Whence came the eyes that see,NoNosoilThe mind behind the eyes,The heart that flushes withsurpriseAndjoy at sunset or sunrise*?Thesun, themoon, thestars,23
Thesea that beats behinditsmighty bars,Alps overalps,Lifting their snowy crests,Astrain to gaze across thewhenSay,Poor foolTisallThe!margin of the world;didst thou earn these ?dost thou not feelof Gracegreat Natureswheel,earth, the sky, the sea,very self, the I, theMe?ThyNowspurnThat which thou didst not earn!"II.Mypride with torn sailBore on against the galethe I, the Me,yield the selfI yield the earth, thesky, the sea,Divinest be the grace by which they came to beSelf and the world once given,must the Grace of Heaven,:"I!WhyUngracious, grudge my little human need?least, alone I stood;Sucked not a brother s blood,Nor hung upon another s gracious deed.Wherefore, within the roundAtOf my own human bound,StilldoThat whichAIspurnI did notsudden silenceThenearn."fell,like a silver bellFloated a music out of far-offyearsA sweet remembered lullaby of smiles and tears,Fond hopes and trembling fears,And through the veil of music cameA voice that burnt my heart like flame"Ah me, so soonforgot:!Whose wasAtheagony that gave thee life?gift thou knewest not.Whenthou didstlieupon herbreast,24
Say, didst thou earn that nest?Was it as wages of work well doneShe fought with bitter DeathThrough the dark night till rise of sun,To save thy failing breath,And smiled to see her own wanface,Since thine was ruddy with health s grace*?Did she once pause to ask,Before she did her task:What has he done to merit this*?Has hedeserved his mother s kiss?Ay, go and say to thy dead motherI fling thee back thy grace,Isface:spurnThat whichI did notearn!III.AAface smiled love across the years,dear hand beckoned white,And grief broke in a mist of tears,And the mist broke into light.AndyetRefusedmystubborn prideto be denied;that dear soul of graceSmiles in a happy placeGladly I owe the unrequited debt."Yea,:And yet, and yetWhat do I owe the general race of man,The generations since the world began?Wild blood and lawless mind,And lusts that drive us like a restless wind,Forever seeking what we shall not find.Iowe them naught;Whatisthere that I have not boughtWith strength of hand and toil of thought?Knowledge in her circle bright,Beauty in her sevenfold light,Prudence with her bit and rein,Love that counteth loss her gain.25
Once more I spurnThat which I did not earn."Then rose a Voice from out the dustthou forgot theDost thou not knowmemory"Hast:of the just?That in man s onward marchEvery step with blood is wetBeneath the heavenscareless arch?Andtears like waters flow,That the torn flag of truth be setBut one ridge higherThe prophetsThe martyrsAin athousand years.sawnare drawnare asunder;to the stake;thousand soldiers dieTo make a bridge to liberty.Thy flower of life doth growIn human dust, watered with humanAnd thou, forsooth, dost spurnWhateerthou didst not earntears.!Ah, when wilt thou have grace to learnThat all thy boasted goodWas bought with blood?That all thy roots are sunk in grace,The unremembered sorrows of thy race *?Acostly price, I trow,for such as thouTo pay!"IV.Then"roseTis truemy:wrathpride inthe:upward pathIs o er the broken hearts of men.Their dearest hopes they fling away, and thenFor us lie down to die.But Thou, Most High,Sharstnot the sacrificeUpon Thy throne ofThou sat st apartA God of ice alone,!icewithout a heart.rend the heavens and come down;O!26
Thou gav st no answer to Thy prophetAnd the indifferent skyGave neither smile nor frown.sAh God, my God, bethink Thee, wasTo sit in silence on the height*?itcry,rightDid never wave of generous shameBreak o er Thee and Thy throne,ToBybe in love so far outdonethings without a name*?"Therea sullen hush,the wild word,And o er the world a darkness crept,And thro the dark a sudden rushOf unseen wings was heard.Asfellif inawe ofThen the earth moaned as if it sleptUneasily, and shuddered in its pain.Some tragedy unseenThrobbed like a breaking heartBehind the awfulscreen.did the distant edge of heaven dispartIn one long sword of light,And from a cross there bent a Head ;ThenGod, my God!" was said;Dark drops fell down,As from a thorny crown.One flash, and Heaven and Earth did pass away"MyIn flowed the sevenfold dayThat beats around the eternal throne.Angels in wide arrayRank over rank in glory shone,Upon the throne sat One.A crown of thorns upon His bended head,His hands had wounds yet red,Aspear had pierced His heart.HeHespread His hands apart,lifted up His head,looked at me. I saw His eyes.SlowlySlowlyAndAh me!those eyes!2?;
THE STRANGER.Awho is theWith morni,stranger,in his eyes,This desperate rangerOf earth and the skies ?Whose, whose are the fanciesThat fly with the moon?Ah, whoTois itdancesthe fairy-pipes tune ?Whoisthis finds hisIn his mothersheavenblue eyes,Ere the years number seven,Or the morning star dies ?Ah, whoWhoTheAh,isthe strangernever could die,scorner of danger?child,wasit I*?28
SHADOWS.AYEAR agoOne walked with meAcross the snow,By the bare gaunt tree,And our shadows passed slowO er the bare white lea.Twoshadows castmoon,Together passedIn the wind s low croon;The hour went fastBythe visitingAndpassed too soon.One shadow throwsThe moon on the lea,One shadow goes,That eye cannot see,Across the snowsAlong with me.AOyear ago,visitingmoon,Twotrod the snowIn the wind s low croon;The Shadows went slowYet one passedtoo soon!29
WHEN AMIAndWHENIOLD.am old, and mylifeand love aregood days are o er,than dreams of dreams,lessAnd my soul sits within the burnt-out coreOf its own ghost, and God Himself but seems:love, you speak, and I know not your name,look up dazed, and wonder who you are,care no longer if you praise or blame,whether twixt us two tis peace or warWhen,AndAndOr:Have patience with the unremembering eyesWhich once their love-thirst from your own didThink how this heart once thought it paradiseTo burnitself to ashes foryour sake!slake;
ALL SOULS EVE.dark, and the skyisblows lowTHE eveningOismisty, and thewind;wind, cease swaying the bare, bare branches, bending themtoandfro,look too like ghosts in the pale moonlight,Ah, too like ghosts in the dusky night,When ghosts glide to and fro!TheyOtheghosts not laid, and ghosts forgotten, and ghosts ofevil dead,Whycome to sear my heart, whengone, had fled,do ye come on this night of the year,DoesitWhywill yeease your pain to beholdSince allisdone andsaid*?myfear,Ithought ye had
THE MOTHER OF USALL.her an image of the pendent world,A living mirror of the living whole ;Be Time and Space within her heart upcurled,Then set Eternity within her soul.MAKEBreak, break, on every shore, ye homeless waves,Lifted by moon and driven by the wind,White on the sky-line, dark in ocean caves,Playing on sands, when sun and breeze are kind.Let there rise mountains of fire and snow,Majestic rivers fed by lonely rills,Mysterious forests man may never know,Vales where the moon walks naked on theWidefieldshills.be there, with poppies in the wheat,And, for delight, a little garden plot,Lilies and roses asleep in the noon heat,White moons of daisies, pansies dark for thought;High over all, within the soul s pure sky,Sun, moon and stars, eternal and divine,In the dark of midnight, or when the noonishigh,Rising for a wonder, setting for a sign.sweet sounds make music in her blood,pipes of Pan, and every wild bird s tune,All voices of the sea and mountain flood,And every wind that roves neath sun and moon.LetallTheMakeher an image of the pendent world,living mirror of the living whole;Be Time and Space within her heart upcurled,Then set Eternity within her soulA!
THEIRISHWAKE.opened the door of the dead,AndSHEthe silence received her,Folded her inAway from the jest and the weepingThat seemed to mock one anotherAround the white face withinThe younggirl-face, so quiet,Aloof from it all,Done now with laughter and tears forever,Her dear companion and friend.The silence folded her in,The white silence of dawn,One star still in the sky,Tremulous, dim,Beginning to die too in the white spaces.With a sudden throb of the heartShe thought of her lover:Ah God! It might have been himself,Herself,lying there withinOn the bed white and stillAnd the young blood broke through her griefAnd triumphed o er death,In joy that they still were alive,And before them a world of love!!She lifted her eyes;Thestar was gone,But the dawn was now full.And ev n as her eyes fell,Fell also her doom.She saw him standUnder the hawthorn in the dim laneWhite like a ghost in the dawnWasthe flower of the thorn;Whiter his face.She saw in the depth of his eyesThe misery hopeless and wan,33;
Andin one desolate flashShe knew it all,Andenvied thestillheart withinBoth Love and DeathDear God, that she were lying thereInstead, safe from the heartache!She had been so glad to be alive, alive,!O Jesus, gentle Jesus,Plead, plead with God to let her dieAnd nowThe sun rose o er the mountainAnd smote her in the face,And a new world began.s34rim!
THE CURTAIN.some seraglio of an Eastern king,and screened from gaze of pryingSo is the soul of many a friend we know.And as some gazer hidden mong the palms,In some fair garden by the water, seesEtESecreteyes,Adark Sultana for a moment stand,Dreaming, behind the casement curtain-folds,The red gold gleaming on her dusky brow:The hidden beautyAndfor agazes, dreaming,momentstands,from some well-knowneyes.
PRIMROSES.pale, ye primroses,Grow ye very pale,GROWFor he is paler still.Strew far and wide yoursoft petals,the little hillDim,OverGrowpetals,!pale, ye primroses,Grow, grow ye very pale,For he is paler still.And be your sweet eyes dimWith tears remembering him!Remember, dear primroses,How he would wander here,And welcome your soft posiesIn the springtime of the year.And howGentlytheHe wouldtheUponlittlefootlest it presswould treadyour head;not gather primroseslittle hill.would be hurt," he said.So grow ye pale, primroses,For he is paler still,"TheyAndbe your sweet eyes dimWithtearsremembering him!GrowGrowpale, ye primroses,ye very pale,For one who s paler stillWith eyes more dim,Knows not where he reposes,Onsome far distanthill,Or down some shadyAndtellyourvale;sister-posiesEach springtime ofthe yearTospread their petals paleWith gentle touch o er him36
Who nowis paler still.Let one small dewdrop tearYour sweet eyes dimFrom dawntilldaylight closesFor one with eyes more dim,Withtearsremembering him!37
THE CHURCH OF KNOCKE.ISTOOD, a stranger,Indifferent, critical, curious,alien faith,Born of anWatchingthefarmfolk,Field-delvers, herdsmen,Gather to worshipTheir fellow-toiler,The CarpenterCrucified.TwasInpastmy ownThis morndawn scarce an hour.distant land,of the Sabbath,Thefolk ofStillwere sleepingThemyfaithAndsleep of the just,their Lord,TheCrucified,AwaitedAndtheir leisure;these, while stillitisdark,Arise and haste onwardThrothe chillTomorning windsmeet with their LordAt the dim holy hourWhen Hearose in the garden,And saw the sun rise,And a new world began.One cameafter the rest,the dust of theof the fields,Grey withA manway,Tall and gaunt,Familiar with toil,Acquainted with hunger,His face burnt and marredAs one whom the sun and the windsLong, long had their will of,His poor garb decent38
Tomeet with his Lord.Naught cared hefor the stranger,Indifferent, critical, curious.to the crossStraightAffix d to a pillar,The great cross where the ChristOf a man s full statureBowed lowlyBeforeHimin death.he knelt,Bent the iron-grey head,As owning his wrongnessThen, as in a passion,;Swift, sudden, imperious,He lifted his faceTo the marred face above,stretched out his armsLike the arms on the crossAs in some vast appealWhich may not be gainsaid.Andsaw the poor outspread hands,Gnarled, twisted, scarred,IWith woundsIof labor:saw the twainAnd lo, face toForm to form,face,Each answered each,Above, below!Swift as he cameHeroseBackand passedto his cross, content.OCrucified above,did he askThe crucified below*?Ah, naught, naught for himself,WhatAh, surely naught!Some dear soul climbing up39
TheAcleansing mount;son in perilFar off on unknownSome daughter,seas;Light of his lonely eyes,Treading the downward slope of deathThe landof his birth,Beneath the dark shadowOf wings of the vulture,Man, woman,child,Unconscious of woe:These, these he brought,OCrucified,Andleftthem here with Thee!40;
MORNING AND NIGHT.stooped the white morningThe Red RoseWHENwithHeto cull,turnedFromscorningthe place of the Skull.Night stooped in the gloamingWhite poppies to cullHis soul, it went homing;Tothe place of the Skull.
THELATTICE.who looketh forth thro the lattice,glance familiar, yet so strange, so variousas a dear friend s embracing,a veil falls, and lo, cold is the strangerart thou there lurking behind the lattice,isthisWHOWithOne moment warmThenWho:Ah, whoart thou*?Grey werethe eyes, as under a grey heavengrey sea broodeth, all a-dream and heaveless;Sudden thro a rift breaks a happy sunbeam,A little well of light the grey ensapphires,All the lattice glows with a flash of laughterA:Ah, sea-grey eyes42!*?
IDEALISM.canst thou say, "This sky, that flying cloud,sun, the moon, the stars, those worlds unknown,That mavis song that rises sweet and loud,Are but a dream, and I exist alone ;AJDThelovely, blue, unfathomable deep,These grains of sand which thro my fingers run,That clear rock-pool on which the sunbeams sleep,The flowers that draw their colors from the sun,Each sound I hear, each lovely melody fraughtThatWithgentle joy, each wild pathetic strain,worlds of sight and sound are naughtmethe children of my brain" *?fromApartAndall thePhilosopher, heImaginewho unaided canthese, himself isGod, not man43!
PARTIII
"RIGHTEOUSNESSKISSED EACHAND PEACE HAVEOTHER."sweet Peace, and dry thy burning tears ;thy sister War, and love thee well ;Yea, and for love I storm with shot and shell,And pierce thy soul with wounds and deaths and fears,And break before thine eyes thy hopes and joys,BEstill,IThyamsilken pleasuresand thy gilded toys!Ah, Peace, whereis our elder sister goneShe, the true heir and queen of all our realm*?Tis for her sake that thus I overwhelmfair prosperities, lest Hell should yawn.Recall our exiled sister from distress,Kiss her pure lips her name is RighteousnessThy:47!
MAKERS OF HEROES.and Charleroi,War of the Rivers,OMoNSMakers of Heroes!Yesterday common dust,Clay like the rest of us,Sons of mere mortalsCraftsmen and fishermen,Shepherds and laborers,Shopkeepers, artisansTo-day, sons of Gods,Comrades of heroes,Perseus and his peers,Slayers of monsters:Stars in the firmament,Clear shining for ever!And someah, unfortunate!Fettered like beastsTo browse in the field:One, alas, by the years,And one by his home,And one by the greed of the world,And one by death s fears.So they amble ingloriousByToand trainand counters,street carofficeFlat of the cityOr burrow suburban:Squirrels in cages,Whirling for naught!O Monsand Charleroi,of the Rivers,Makers of Heroes!War
THE ANGELS OF MONS.isthis tale of angels in a vision,that hovered o er our brokenBowmenWHATWhathost?sound of laughter and derision,As when one speaks at noonday of a ghost ?isthis1Say that the myth was formed from out the dreamingone who wrought it for his daily bread:Ah, none the less, be sure it was the streamingOf light of Heaven thro the heart and headOf!WhenAndgather principality and power,spiritual wickedness in places high;the World-Rulers of this darkness lowerWhenIn one last tempest, to triumph or to dieWhen Armageddon all the worldDark legacy of people, King, andWhenFromissue, like to frogs, thethe false Prophet, the;inherits,Priest;uncleanspiritsDragon, and the BeastThink ye tis credible that God, uncaring,Sits in His heaven smiling at the psalms?Think ye His angels, neutral and undaring,Too proud to fight, can only wave their palms:*?Maketh He not His angels fires of flaming,Yea, and His ministers a rushing wind,Sodom to burn for terror and for shaming,The corners of the world to loose and bind*?it not writ that Michael to theirprisonHurled down the rebels, and bound them with a chainIf the Black Horde have now once more arisen,Shall not the same spear thrust them down again?IsAngels at Mons? And thinkest thou there solelyFront they the princes and powers of the air?* RevelationXVI:12-16.49?
Nay, from the lowest Hell throall the heavens holy,Fight they the Serpent, nor ever know despair!WarWarcompass of a drop of water,and flow of thine own bloodThe Darkness and the Light arrayed for slaughterIn every atom of the eternal floodin thein the ebb;!Ask art thou worthy of the shining vision,As when the prophets opened the young eyes,Showed on the mount the burning apparition,Horses and chariots of fire from the skies?Blessed who see not, and whoWinning assurance where theyet believe it,sense is numb.Virtues and powers of the soul perceive it,Bow down in worship, and with joy are dumb!who believe, and need no nerve of seeing;Well may they fight, who never fight alone:Army on army of the Heavens in being,And, Himself wounded, the Captain on the ThroneBlest!
POLAND,1915.this land, alwaysmelancholy, desolate, and
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