Poems Part 18

Stretched like a homeless beggar on the ground, The city sleeps amid the misty rain.

Though Rain hath pitched his tent above my head, 'Tis but a speck upon the happy world.

Since I've begun to trace these lines, Sunrise Has struck a land and woke its bleating hills; Afar upon some black and silent moor The crystal stars are shaking in the wind; An ocean gurgles, for the stooping moon Hath kissed him into peace, and now she smooths The well-pleased monster with her silver hand.

Come, naked, gleaming Spring! great crowds of larks Fluttering above thy head, thy happy ears Loud with their ringing songs, Bright Saviour, come!

And kill old Winter with thy glorious look, And turn his corse to flowers!

I sit to-night As dreary as the pale, deserted East, That sees the Sun, the Sun that once was hers, Forgetful of her, flattering his new love, The happy-blus.h.i.+ng West. In these long streets Of traffic and of noise, the human hearts Are hard and loveless as a wreck-strewn coast.

Eternity doth wear upon her face The veil of Time. They only see the veil, And thus they know not what they stand so near.

Oh, rich in gold! Beggars in heart and soul!

Poor as the empty void! Why, even I, Sitting in this bare chamber with my thoughts, Am richer than ye all, despite your bales, Your streets of warehouses, your mighty mills, Each booming like a world faint heard in s.p.a.ce: Your s.h.i.+ps; unwilling fires, that day and night Writhe in your service seven years, then die Without one taste of peace. Do ye believe A simple primrose on a gra.s.sy bank Forth-peeping to the sun, a wild bird's nest, The great orb dying in a ring of clouds, Like h.o.a.ry Jacob 'mong his waiting sons; The rising moon, and the young stars of G.o.d, Are things to love? With _these_ my soul is brimmed; With a diviner and serener joy Then all thy heaven of money-bags can bring Thy dry heart, Worldling!

The terror-stricken rain Flings itself wildly on the window-panes, Imploring shelter from the chasing wind.

Alas! to-night in this wide waste of streets It beats on human limbs as well as walls!

G.o.d led Eve forth into the empty world From Paradise. Could our great Mother come And see her children now, what sight were worst; A worker woke by cruel Day, the while A kind dream feeds with sweetest phantom-bread, Him, and his famished ones; or when the Wind, With shuddering fingers, draws the veil of smoke, And scares her with a battle's bleeding face?

Most brilliant star upon the crest of Time Is England. England! Oh, I know a tale Of those far summers when she lay in the sun, Listening to her own larks, with growing limbs, And mighty hands, which since have tamed the world, Dreaming about their tasks. This dreary night I'll tell the story to my listening heart.

I sang 't to thee, O unforgotten Friend!

(Who dwellest now on breezy English downs, While I am drowning in the hateful smoke) Beside the river which I long have loved.

O happy Days! O happy, happy Past!

O Friend! I am a lone benighted s.h.i.+p; Before me hangs the vast untravelled gloom, Behind, a wake of splendour, fading fast Into the hungry gloom from whence it came.

Two days the Lady gazed toward the west, The way that he had gone; and when the third From its high noon sloped to a rosy close, Upon the western margin of the isle, Feeding her petted swans by tossing bread Among the clumps of water-lilies white, She stood. The fond Day pressed against her face; His am'rous, airy fingers, with her robe Fluttered and played, and trembling, touched her throat, And toying with her ringlets, could have died Upon her sweet lips and her happy cheeks!

With a long rippling sigh she turned away, And wished the sun was underneath the hills.

Anon she sang; and ignorant Solitude, Astonished at the marvel of her voice, Stood tranced and mute as savage at the door Of rich cathedral when the organ rolls, And all the answering choirs awake at once.

Then she sat down and thought upon her love; Fed on the various wonders of his face To make his absence rich. "'Tis but three days Since he went from me in his light canoe, And all the world went with him, and to-night He will be back again. Oh, when he comes, And when my head is laid upon his breast, And in the pauses of the sweetest storm Of kisses that e'er beat upon a face, I'll tell him how I've pined, and sighed, and wept, And thought of those sweet days and nights that flew O'er us unheeded as a string of swans, That wavers down the sky toward the sea,-- And he will chide me into blissful tears, Then kiss the tears away." Quick leapt she up, "He comes! he comes!" She laughed, and clapt her hands, A light canoe came dancing o'er the lake, And he within it gave a cry of joy.

She sent an answer back that drew him on.

The swans are scared,--the lilies rippled--now Her happy face is hidden in his breast, And words are lost in joy. "My Bertha! let Me see myself again in those dear orbs.

Have you been lonely, love?" She raised her head, "You surely will not leave me so again!

I'll grow as pale 's the moon, and my praised cheeks Will be as wet as April's if you do."

As when the moon hath sleeked the blissful sea, A light wind wrinkles it and pa.s.ses off, So ran a transient trouble o'er his face.

"My Bertha! we must leave this isle to-night.

Thy s.h.i.+ning face is blanked! We will return Ere thrice the day, like a great bird of light Flees 'cross the dark, and hides it with his wings."

"Ah, wherefore?" "Listen, I will tell you why.

"I stood afar upon the gra.s.sy hills, I saw the country with its golden slopes, And woods, and streams, run down to meet the sea.

I saw the basking ocean skinned with light.

I saw the surf upon the distant sands Silent and white as snow. Above my head A lark was singing, 'neath a sunny cloud, Around the playing winds. As I went down There seemed a special wonder on the sh.o.r.e, Low murmuring crowds around a temple stood: There was a wildered music on the air, Which came and went, yet ever nearer grew, When, lo! a train came upward from the sea With snowy garments, and with reverend steps, Full in their front a silver cross they bore, And this sweet hymn they strewed along the winds.

'Blest be this sunny morning, sweet and fair!

Blest be the people of this pleasant land!

Ye unseen larks that sing a mile in air, Ye waving forests, waving green and grand, Ye waves, that dance upon the flas.h.i.+ng strand, Ye children golden-haired! we bring, we bring A gospel hallowing.'

Then one stood forth and spoke against the G.o.ds; He called them 'cruel G.o.ds,' and then he said, 'We have a Father, One who dwells serene, 'Bove thunder and the stars, Whose eye is mild, And ever open as the summer sky; Who cares for everything on earth alike, Who hears the plovers crying in the wind, The happy linnets singing in the broom, Whose smile is suns.h.i.+ne.' When the old man ceased, Forth from the murmuring crowd there stepped a youth, As bright-haired as a star, and cried aloud, 'Friends! I've grown up among the wilds, and found Each outward form is but a window whence Terror or Beauty looks. Beauty I've seen In the sweet eyes of flowers, along the streams, And in the cold and crystal wells that sleep Far in the murmur of the summer woods; Terror in fire and thunder, in the worn And haggard faces of the winter clouds, In shuddering winds, and oft on moonless nights I've heard it in the white and wailing fringe That runs along the coast from end to end.

The mountains brooded on some wondrous thought Which they would ne'er reveal. I seemed to stand Outside of all things; my desire to know Grew wild and eager as a starving wolf.

To gain the secret of the awful world, I knelt before the G.o.ds, and then held up My heart to them in the pure arms of prayer-- They gave no answer, or had none to give.

Friends! I will test these sour and sullen G.o.ds: If they are weak, 'tis well, we then may list Unto the strangers; but if my affront Draw angry fire, I shall be slain by G.o.ds, And Death may have no secrets. A spear! a steed!'

A steed was brought by trembling hands, he sprang And dashed towards the temple with a cry.

A shudder ran through all the pallid crowds.

I saw him enter, and my sight grew dim, And on a long-suspended breath I stood, Till one might count a hundred beats of heart: Then he rode slowly forth, and, wondrous strange!

Although an awful gleam lay on his face, His charger's limbs were drenched with terror-sweat.

Amid the anxious silence loud he cried, 'G.o.ds, marvellously meek! Why, any child May pluck them by the beard, spit in their face, Or smite them on the mouth; they can do nought, But sit like poor old foolish men, and moan.

I flung my spear.'--Here, as a singing rill Is in the mighty noise of ocean drowned, His voice was swallowed in the shout that rose, And touched the heavens, ran along the hills, Thence came on after silence, strange and dim.

A voice rose 'mong the strangers like a lark, And warbled out its joy, then died away.

And the old man that spoke before went on, And, oh! the gentle music of his voice Stirred through my heart-strings like a wind through reeds.

He said, 'It was G.o.d's hand that shaped the world And laid it in the sunbeams:' and that 'G.o.d, With His great presence fills the universe.

That, could we dwell like night among the stars, Or plunge with whales in the unsounded sea, He still would be around us with His care.'

And also, 'That, as flowers come back in Spring, We would live after Death.' I heard no more.

I thought of thee in this delightful isle, Pure as a prayer, and wished that I had wings To tell you swiftly, that the death we feared Was but a grey eve 'tween two s.h.i.+ning days, That we would love for ever! Then I thought Our home might be in that transparent star Which we have often watched from off this verge, Stand in the dying sunset, large and clear-- The humming world awoke me from my dream.

I saw the old G.o.ds tumbled on the gra.s.s Like uncouth stones, they threw the temple wide, And Summer, with her bright and happy face, Looked in upon its gloom, and pensive grew.

The while among the tumult of the crowds, Divinest hymns the white-robed strangers sang.

I wearied for thee, Bertha! and I came.

Wilt go and hear these strangers?" She turned on him A look of love--a look that richly crowned A moment heavenly rich, and murmured "Yes."

He kissed her proudly, while a giddy tear, Wild with its happiness, ran down her cheek And perished in the dew. They took their seats, And as the paddles struck, grey-pinioned Time Flew through the gates of sunset into Night, And held through stars to gain the coasts of Morn.

'Tis done! The phantoms of my soul have fled Into the night, and I am left alone With that sweet sadness which doth ever dwell On the brink of tears; I stare i' th' crumbling fire Which from my brooding eye takes strangest shapes.

The Past is with me, and I scarcely hear Outside the weeping of the homeless rain.

LADY BARBARA.

Earl Gawain wooed the Lady Barbara,-- High-thoughted Barbara, so white and cold!

'Mong broad-branched beeches in the summer shaw, In soft green light his pa.s.sion he has told.

When rain-beat winds did shriek across the wold, The Earl to take her fair reluctant ear Framed pa.s.sion-trembled ditties manifold; Silent she sat his am'rous breath to hear, With calm and steady eyes, her heart was otherwhere.

He sighed for her through all the summer weeks; Sitting beneath a tree whose fruitful boughs Bore glorious apples with smooth-s.h.i.+ning cheeks, Earl Gawain came and whispered, "Lady, rouse!

Thou art no vestal held in holy vows; Out with our falcons to the pleasant heath."

Her father's blood leapt up unto her brows-- He who, exulting on the trumpet's breath, Came charging like a star across the lists of death,

Trembled, and pa.s.sed before her high rebuke: And then she sat, her hands clasped round her knee: Like one far-thoughted was the lady's look, For in a morning cold as misery She saw a lone s.h.i.+p sailing on the sea; Before the north 'twas driven like a cloud, High on the p.o.o.p a man sat mournfully: The wind was whistling thorough mast and shroud.

And to the whistling wind thus did he sing aloud:--

"Didst look last night upon my native vales, Thou Sun! that from the drenching sea hast clomb?

Ye demon winds! that glut my gaping sails, Upon the salt sea must I ever roam, Wander for ever on the barren foam?

O happy are ye, resting mariners.

O Death, that thou wouldst come and take me home!

A hand unseen this vessel onward steers, And onward I must float through slow moon-measured years.

"Ye winds! when like a curse ye drove us on, Frothing the waters, and along our way, Nor cape nor headland through red mornings shone, One wept aloud, one shuddered down to pray, One howled, 'Upon the Deep we are astray.'

On our wild hearts his words fell like a blight: In one short hour my hair was stricken grey, For all the crew sank ghastly in my sight As we went driving on through the cold starry night.

"Madness fell on me in my loneliness, The sea foamed curses, and the reeling sky Became a dreadful face which did oppress Me with the weight of its unwinking eye.

It fled, when I burst forth into a cry-- A shoal of fiends came on me from the deep; I hid, but in all corners they did pry, And dragged me forth, and round did dance and leap; They mouthed on me in dream, and tore me from sweet sleep.

"Strange constellations burned above my head, Strange birds around the vessel shrieked and flew, Strange shapes, like shadows, through the clear sea fled, As our lone s.h.i.+p, wide-winged, came rippling through, Angering to foam the smooth and sleeping blue."

The lady sighed, "Far, far upon the sea, My own Sir Arthur, could I die with you!

The wind blows shrill between my love and me."

Fond heart! the s.p.a.ce between was but the apple-tree.