Fires of Driftwood Part 8

Little Brown Bird

O LITTLE brown bird in the rain, In the sweet rain of spring, How you carry the youth of the world In the bend of your wing!

For you the long day is for song And the night is for sleep-- With never a sunrise too soon Or a midnight too deep!

For you every pool is the sky, Breaking clouds chasing through,-- A heaven so instant and near That you bathe in its blue!-- And yours is the freedom to rise To some song-haunted star Or sink on soft wing to the wood Where your brown nestlings are.

So busy, so strong and so glad, So care-free and young, So tingling with life to be lived And with songs to be sung, O little brown bird!--with your heart That's the heart of the Spring-- How you carry the hope of the world In the bend of your wing!

The Watcher

THE long road and the low sh.o.r.e, a sail against the sky, The ache in my heart's core, and hope so hard to die-- Ah me, but the day's long--and all the sails go by!

The long road and the dark sh.o.r.e, pools with stars aflame, The ache in my heart's core, the hope I dare not name-- Ah, me, but the night's long--and every night the same!

Possession

A YOUTH sat down on a wayside stone, A pack on his back and a staff at his knee.

He whistled a tune which he called his own, "It's a fine new tune, that tune!" said he.

In his pack he carried a crust of bread, And he drank from his hands at a brook hard by; "Spring water is wonderful cool," he said, "And wonderful soft is the summer sky!"

He looked to the hill which his steps had pa.s.sed, He looked to the slope where a brooklet purled, He looked to the distance blue and vast And "Ah," cried he, "what a fine, wide world!"

The youth pa.s.sed on down the winding track That led to the beckoning distance dim, And though he carried but staff and pack, The world and its giving belonged to him.

To Arcady

"TELL me, Singer, of the way Winding down to Arcady?

Of the world's roads I am weary-- You, with song so brave and cheery, Happy troubadour must be On the way to Arcady?"

Pausing on a muted note, Song forsook the Singer's throat, "Friend," sighed he, "you come too late, Once I could the way relate, Once--but long ago; Ah me, Far away is Arcady!"

"Tell me, Poet, of the way Winding down to Arcady?

Haunting is your verse and airy With the grace and gleam of faery-- Dweller you must surely be In the land of Arcady?"

Slow the Poet raised his eyes, Sad were they as winter skies, "Once, I sojourned there," he said; Then, no more--but with bent head Whispered low, "Ask not of me That lost road to Arcady!"

Tell me, Lover, of the way Winding down to Arcady?

Some sweet bourne your haste confesses-- Know you paths no other guesses?

Does your gaze, so far away, See the road to Arcady?

In the Lover's eyes there gleamed Radiance of all things dreamed-- "Nay, detain me not," he cried "I am hasting to my bride; What have roads to do with me, Love's at home in Arcady!"

The Fields of Even

O STILLER than the fields that lie Beneath the morning heaven, And sweeter than day's gardens are The purple fields of even!

The vapor rises, silver-eyed, Leaving the dew-wet clover, With groping, mist-white hands outspread To greet the sky, her lover.

Ripples the brook, a thread of sound Close-woven through the quiet, Blending the jarring tones that day Would stir to noisy riot.

And all the glory seems so near A common man may win it-- When every earth-bound lakelet holds A million stars within it.

A common man, who in the day Lifts not his eyes above him, Roaming the fields of even through May find a G.o.d to love him!

I Love My Love

I LOVE my love for she is like a garden in the dawn, Pale, yet pink-flushed, with softly waking eyes, And primrose hair that brightens to gold skies, And petalled lips for dew to linger on.

I love my love for she is like the mirror of the moon, (A sweet, small moon but newly come to birth) So full of heaven is she, so close to earth, So versed in holy spell and magic rune.

I love my love. O words that be too feeble and too few!

I love my love!--as April on the hill Brings back earth's morning with each daffodil, So she within my heart makes all things new.

Spring Awoke To-Day

SPRING awoke to-day!

Somewhere--far away-- Spring awoke to-day From the depth of dream.

Through the air bestirred Pulse of winging bird, Through the air bestirred Laugh of hidden stream.

On the world's cold lips Fell warm finger-tips; On the world's cold lips Woke the glow and gleam!