Cornish Catches Part 5

The giant Image of Eternal Time Sits throned amidst the Infinite of s.p.a.ce; And through the aeons, pa.s.sing chime by chime, Heeds not our Race.

Meanwhile we weave upon his robes' array Embroideries of doubts and hopes and fears, The golden threads of laughter by the way, Grey threads of tears.

Careless sits Time of garment grey or gold, Although our pa.s.sionate labours never cease Till weaving hands are weary and we grow old.

And pa.s.s to peace.

And who that gazes on that garb of Time Shall in the far light of a distant day Catch aught of colour of song or rune of rhyme?

Shall all be grey?

Yet till the end fall--and the day close, Let me weave in the web of pain and the woof of tears The colour of sun-bright seas and the red of the rose, In my Loom of Years.

IN A GARDEN

A twilight peace droops tenderly, The discords of the day depart, And through the hush there comes to be A harmony within the heart; And waking to the quivering strings Spirits are touched to finer things.

Sweet hand-fast silences of eve, When love's supremest note is heard In symphonies the spirits weave Beyond the need of mortal word, O! may we keep your music when We pace the noisy haunts of men.

Give us the strength for daily stress Of toil about the busy world; Give us a balm to bitterness From wounds when cruel shafts are hurled; And give us courage in a sense Of Love's divine omnipotence.

For Life can never lonely be Since Love has broken all the bars That stayed the soul from unity With Heaven and its ten thousand stars, Whose music falls sublimely grand Through silences of hand in hand.

SORROW'S COURAGE

I have loved Beauty. I have seen the sun Flash snowy mountain tops to s.h.i.+mmer of gold; I have heard songs where little waters run Chiming with music that the stars have rolled.

I have loved Beauty. I have seen the sea Fringe with its silver all the golden sh.o.r.e; Have heard it crooning music ceaselessly To ancient tunes frayed from the tempest's roar.

I have loved Beauty. I have seen a smile s.h.i.+ne from sweet eyes, fair as the sea's own blue, Whose magic lashes seemed to lift awhile To send a kindly comrade spirit through.

I have loved Beauty. But nor sun nor sea Nor stars have charactered G.o.d's chiefest grace; Beyond all other things there beacons me The star-led pilgrim courage of your face.

A CHOOSING

Under the turf the blind mole creeps, And moulds the mounds of molehill kind.

Above, the skylark soars and sweeps, The song is swept upon the wind.

To-morrow's eyes the mounds may see; To-morrow they will mark the plain.

But none shall hear the ecstasy Of song, that cannot be again.

Well built, old mole! A little heap To linger to a later day!

Something to show you once did creep In darkness through your earthy way.

Yet with the lark's glad song of Love May mine on wandering winds be hurled, In happy regions far above The dull mad molehills of the world.

Still let my song be all in all, Though Earth-born discords soon destroy, And on no mortal ear may fall The music of immortal joy.

Break, Spirit, break to boundless things Beyond the molehill and the clod, And catch the glory of the strings That tune the harmonies of G.o.d.

STAR SIGNS

Primal swirl of the Chaos, out of your nebulous Night Eddied the primal tides, as the Mind of G.o.d decreed, And the Word of the ultimate Source spake forth "Let there be Light,"

And all the Firmament blazed with the dust of the star-sown seed.

Strong and stately and splendid, thronging the limitless s.p.a.ces.

Ye are the silver signs to a House not made with hands; Ye are the Mystic Scroll, where the Mighty Maker traces Thoughts that the pa.s.sionate poet dimly understands.

Day, with its drouth and drosses, shrivels our fragile souls, And, witched with its transient gauds, to the perilous earth we cling, But ever the tender night its infinite page unrolls, And the star-led mind aspires to the Throne of the star-robed King.

THE OLD KNIGHT'S SONG

My lady lives afar in the fair white tower Hid, like a nest, high among branches swaying.

"Peaceful thoughts be her portion, dreams her dower,"

Here am I on my knees, praying.

To the Winds of the World from the hills and the sea far blowing, That they carry their strength to her heart for sorrow's staying, That they bring clear hopes and the gladness of freedom flowing, Here am I on my knees, praying.

To the Lamp of Day, that the aureate beauty breaking Find answering smiles in her eyes for the fair displaying Of colour of gold on the way my Lady is taking, Here am I on my knees, praying.

To the sentinel Stars through the infinite s.p.a.ces sweeping, Guarding the night, and terrors of darkness slaying, That they bring sweet Peace to the dreams of my Lady sleeping, Here am I, on my knees praying.

But my casque is rusted with Time, and my breastplate battered, My hauberk worn with ancient fighting and fraying; Dull is my s.h.i.+eld, my banner faded and tattered.

Here am I on my knees, praying.

Here at an outpost, here is my patrol duty: My Lady's train is for Knights of a fair arraying; Only from far may I guard her, loving her beauty: Here am I on my knees, praying.

Wandering lights have I followed, the one Light questing, I have wearied through difficult paths and long delaying; Perilous peaks have I scaled with feet unresting; Here I am on my knees, praying.