Down-Adown-Derry Part 12

The woodman answered me, His f.a.ggot on his back:-- "Seek not the face of Pan to see; Flee from his clear note summoning thee To darkness deep and black!

"He dwells in thickest shade, Piping his notes forlorn Of sorrow never to be allayed; Turn from his coverts sad Of twilight unto morn!"

The woodman pa.s.sed away Along the forest path; His ax shone keen and grey In the last beams of day: And all was still as death:--

Only Pan singing sweet Out of Earth's fragrant shade; I dreamed his eyes to meet, And found but shadow laid Before my tired feet.

Comes no more dawn to me, Nor bird of open skies.

Only his woods' deep gloom I see Till, at the end of all, shall rise, Afar and tranquilly, Death's stretching sea.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

MELMILLO

[Ill.u.s.tration]

Three and thirty birds there stood In an elder in a wood; Called Melmillo--flew off three, Leaving thirty in a tree; Called Melmillo--nine now gone, And the boughs held twenty-one; Called Melmillo--eighteen Left but three to nod and preen; Called Melmillo--three--two--one-- Now of birds were feathers none.

Then stole slim Melmillo in To that wood all dusk and green, And with lean long palms outspread Softly a strange dance did tread; Not a note of music she Had for echoing company; All the birds were flown to rest In the hollow of her breast; In the wood thorn, elder, willow-- Danced alone--lone danced Melmillo.

THE QUIET ENEMY

Hearken! now the hermit bee Drones a quiet threnody; Greening on the stagnant pool The criss-cross light is beautiful; In the venomed yew tree wings Preen and flit. The linnet sings.

Gradually the brave sun Sinks to a day's journey done; In the marshy flats abide Mists to m.u.f.fle midnight-tide.

Puffed within the belfry tower Hungry owls drowse out their hour....

Walk in beauty. Vaunt thy rose.

Flaunt thy poisonous loveliness!

Pace for pace with thee there goes A shape that hath not come to bless.

I, thine enemy?... Nay, nay!

I can only watch, and wait Patient treacherous time away, Hold ajar the wicket gate.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

MISTLETOE

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Sitting under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), One last candle burning low, All the sleepy dancers gone, Just one candle burning on, Shadows lurking everywhere: Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go Nodding under the mistletoe (Pale-green, fairy mistletoe), No footsteps came, no voice, but only, Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely, Stooped in the still and shadowy air Lips unseen--and kissed me there.

NOT I

[Ill.u.s.tration]

As I came out of Wiseman's Street, The air was thick with driving sleet; Crossing over Proudman's Square, Cold clouds and louring dulled the air; But as I turned to Goodman's Lane, The burning sun came out again; And on the roof of Children's Row In solemn glory shone the snow.

There did I lodge; there hope to die: Envying no man--no, not I.