An Anthology of Australian Verse Part 7

The Dark Companion

There is an orb that mocked the lore of sages Long time with mystery of strange unrest; The steadfast law that rounds the starry ages Gave doubtful token of supreme behest.

But they who knew the ways of G.o.d unchanging, Concluded some far influence unseen -- Some kindred sphere through viewless ethers ranging, Whose strong persuasions spanned the void between.

And knowing it alone through perturbation And vague disquiet of another star, They named it, till the day of revelation, "The Dark Companion" -- darkly guessed afar.

But when, through new perfection of appliance, Faith merged at length in undisputed sight, The mystic mover was revealed to science, No Dark Companion, but -- a speck of light.

No Dark Companion, but a sun of glory; No fell disturber, but a bright compeer; The s.h.i.+ning complement that crowned the story; The golden link that made the meaning clear.

Oh, Dark Companion, journeying ever by us, Oh, grim Perturber of our works and ways -- Oh, potent Dread, unseen, yet ever nigh us, Disquieting all the tenor of our days --

Oh, Dark Companion, Death, whose wide embraces O'ertake remotest change of clime and skies -- Oh, Dark Companion, Death, whose grievous traces Are scattered shreds of riven enterprise --

Thou, too, in this wise, when, our eyes unsealing, The clearer day shall change our faith to sight, Shalt show thyself, in that supreme revealing, No Dark Companion, but a thing of light.

No ruthless wrecker of harmonious order; No alien heart of discord and caprice; A beckoning light upon the Blissful Border; A kindred element of law and peace.

So, too, our strange unrest in this our dwelling, The trembling that thou joinest with our mirth, Are but thy magnet-communings compelling Our spirits farther from the scope of earth.

So, doubtless, when beneath thy potence swerving, 'Tis that thou lead'st us by a path unknown, Our seeming deviations all subserving The perfect orbit round the central throne.

The night wind moans. The Austral wilds are round me.

The loved who live -- ah, G.o.d! how few they are!

I looked above; and heaven in mercy found me This parable of comfort in a star.

Day

Linger, oh Sun, for a little, nor close yet this day of a million!

Is there not glory enough in the rose-curtained halls of the West?

Hast thou no joy in the pa.s.sion-hued folds of thy kingly pavilion?

Why shouldst thou only pa.s.s through it? Oh rest thee a little while, rest!

Why should the Night come and take it, the wan Night that cannot enjoy it, Bringing pale argent for golden, and changing vermilion to grey?

Why should the Night come and shadow it, entering but to destroy it?

Rest 'mid thy ruby-trailed splendours! Oh stay thee a little while, stay!

Rest thee at least a brief hour in it! 'Tis a right royal pavilion.

Lo, there are thrones for high dalliance all gloriously canopied o'er!

Lo, there are hangings of purple, and hangings of blue and vermilion, And there are fleeces of gold for thy feet on the diapered floor!

Linger, a little while linger. To-morrow my heart may not sing to thee: This shall be Yesterday, numbered with memories, folded away.

Now should my flesh-fettered soul be set free! I would soar to thee, cling to thee, And be thy rere-ward Aurora, pursuing the skirts of To-day!

Night

Hark how the tremulous night-wind is pa.s.sing in joy-laden sighs; Soft through my window it comes, like the fanning of pinions angelic, Whispering to cease from myself, and look out on the infinite skies.

Out on the orb-studded night, and the crescent effulgence of Dian; Out on the far-gleaming star-dust that marks where the angels have trod; Out on the gem-pointed Cross, and the glittering pomp of Orion, Flaming in measureless azure, the coronal jewels of G.o.d;

Luminous streams of delight in the silent immensity flowing, Journeying surgelessly on through impalpable ethers of peace.

How can I think of myself when infinitude o'er me is glowing, Glowing with tokens of love from the land where my sorrows shall cease?

Oh, summer-night of the South! Oh, sweet languor of zephyrs love-sighing!

Oh, mighty circuit of shadowy solitude, holy and still!

Music scarce audible, echo-less harmony joyously dying, Dying in faint suspirations o'er meadow, and forest, and hill!

I must go forth and be part of it, part of the night and its gladness.

But a few steps, and I pause on the marge of the s.h.i.+ning lagoon.

Here then, at length, I have rest; and I lay down my burden of sadness, Kneeling alone 'neath the stars and the silvery arc of the moon.

Thomas Bracken.

Not Understood

Not understood, we move along asunder; Our paths grow wider as the seasons creep Along the years; we marvel and we wonder Why life is life, and then we fall asleep Not understood.

Not understood, we gather false impressions And hug them closer as the years go by; Till virtues often seem to us transgressions; And thus men rise and fall, and live and die Not understood.

Not understood! Poor souls with stunted vision Oft measure giants with their narrow gauge; The poisoned shafts of falsehood and derision Are oft impelled 'gainst those who mould the age, Not understood.

Not understood! The secret springs of action Which lie beneath the surface and the show, Are disregarded; with self-satisfaction We judge our neighbours, and they often go Not understood.

Not understood! How trifles often change us!

The thoughtless sentence and the fancied slight Destroy long years of friends.h.i.+p, and estrange us, And on our souls there falls a freezing blight; Not understood.

Not understood! How many b.r.e.a.s.t.s are aching For lack of sympathy! Ah! day by day How many cheerless, lonely hearts are breaking!

How many n.o.ble spirits pa.s.s away, Not understood.

O G.o.d! that men would see a little clearer, Or judge less harshly where they cannot see!