Part 3

Then the gloom, Where a first firefly winked her golden spark Upon the deepening purple, broke and tore-- The twilight stillness ended on a stark, Harsh, grating, deep-mouthed, solitary roar, Hollow as death; while from his secret place The tiger loosed the lightning of his thighs, Leapt on the man and with unwitting grace Struck him to instant nothing. Levin flies Less merciful. A huddled, crumpled clout, Brown, oozing red, dissolved beneath the mass Of living teeth and brawn. The brains were out; Head, a cracked egg-shell leaking on the grass. Thus in a heap to mother earth they came, Both quick and dead; and then the great cat sought His grim, familiar, ghastly after-game; But he had hit too hard and spoiled his sport. He drew and coaxed with hooked and playful paws, Hoping to find the life had not quite gone, And moved by those infernal, feline laws, That made him frolic when his work was done. For oft his perishing food would feebly strive, Driven by life’s undying hope, and led To struggle still from death while yet alive; But his first man the tiger found was dead.

And when the conqueror tasted, his rough tongue Thrilled a new, joyous lust into his brain, For the soft, furless stuff his palate stung With mad, delicious twang--oft, oft again Would he smell up the wind for such another. He hoped the dainty creatures went in packs, And that his prey had kids and many a brother To steal at cool of evening on his tracks. He gaped and gripped the mangled clod of earth Under its ribs, heaved up a muzzle white, Sounded a grunt, that seemed akin to mirth, And bore his dripping coolie out of sight. So to his mate, and as the cross-cut saws Bite upon teak with backward, forward hiss, He purred, then dropped the banquet from his jaws And woke the tigress with a bloody kiss. Eyes shut, heads sideway, cheek by cheek they ate, To sound of squash and gulch and cracking bone, Deciding swiftly, as they fed, the fate Of the two love songs. They were deftly sewn Within the compass of a gold-cloth bag, Tied with a silken cord, stamped with a seal. The tiger crunched and gulped the sodden rag With all the other mysteries of his meal. For, while a poem himself, he was no poet, Being devoid of vision, wit, or ruth; But many who live poetry, never know it And would be much surprised to learn the truth.

Sated at last, they sauntered forth to find A water-hole; but as they washed their jowls And cleaned their whiskers, sudden on the wind Broke din of brass and drums and human howls. For there had gone another runner by, And smelt the blood and seen the reeking trail, And flown, and shouted “Bagh!” and raised the cry That tiger were again upon the vale. From jungle edge they peered and torches red Turned each bewildered eye into a gem Of glinting emerald--then sudden dread Awoke at flash of fire, unknown to them. Fear touched their primitive hearts; they ran and roared, Awakening old echoes down the glade; Shoulder to shoulder from the gleam abhorred They padded, wondering to be afraid. Until no blink of the accursed thing Tortured the night, they galloped, sweating hot, Then, all unknowing what the day would bring, They stopped and sulked and snarled; and so forgot. Anon they sleep, nor guess the dawn shall see, Of hunters white and beaters brown, some score Surround them in a circle steadfastly, To set the cosmos on its feet once more. They sleep, nor dream the pangs of “dum-dum” lead That wait on sunrise, when they two shall feel All they have measured to uncounted dead, And suffer sentences without appeal. Upon their mighty necks will dance the feet Of the unpelted things that lay them low; For of the fruit forbidden did they eat And both must go where the bad tigers go.

_To the trumpeting of elephants and blaze of morning light, To the nosing rifle barrels, to the stinking of cordite, With a crash and smash and struggle and a yell their tale is told; Death blots the shining ebony and orange-tawny gold._

THE PUDDLE

I cursed the puddle when I found Unseeing I had walked therein, Forgetting the uneven ground, Because my eyes Were on the skies, To glean their glory and to win The sunset’s trembling ecstasies.

And then I marked the puddle’s face, When still and quiet grown again, Was but concerned, as I, to trace The wonder spread Above its head, And mark and mirror and contain The gold and purple, rose and red.

VISION

There have been seers of olden time who said, When dreaming men are rapt into the state Where only shadow people congregate, That never may they see the faces of their dead.

But I have seen the faces I have lost, And none so clear and none so shadowless In all that moonshine dance and frolic stress Of dream futility, as some I loved the most.

Not as I knew him last my brother stood, A man upon whose kindly face a stain Lay in the letters of life’s care and pain; But as a little lad, when all the world was good.

High in the darkness of a pine, elate About our long-forgotten forest play, I hung, where he had found a squirrel’s dray: For I was twelve again, and he was only eight.

I saw his boyhood’s look, as bright and fair As ever shone from huddle of a dream; Reality’s own self shall never seem More real than his young laugh and flaxen, Saxon hair.

And waking old, I blessed the memory Of my child-brother’s unforgotten face, Thanking, as it had been a deed of grace, The tenderness of dreams that brought him back to me.

IN GALLIPOLI

There is a fold of lion-coloured earth, With stony feet in the Ægean blue, Whereon of old dwelt loneliness and dearth Sun-scorched and desolate; and when there flew The winds of winter in those dreary aisles Of crag and cliff, a whirling snow-wreath bound The foreheads of the mountains, and their miles Of frowning precipice and scarp were wound With stilly white, that peered through brooding mist profound.

But now the myrtle and the rosemary, The mastic and the rue, the scented thyme With fragrant fingers gladdening the grey, Shall kindle on a desert grown sublime. Henceforth that haggard land doth guard and hold The treasure of a sovereign nation’s womb-- Her fame, her worth, her pride, her purest gold. Oh, call ye not the sleeping place a tomb That lifts to heaven’s light such everlasting bloom.

They stretch, now high, now low, the little scars Upon the rugged pelt of herb and stone; Above them sparkle bells and buds and stars Young Spring hath from her emerald kirtle thrown. Asphodel, crocus and anemone With silver, azure, crimson once again Ray all that earth, and from the murmuring sea Come winds to flash the leaves on shore and plain Where evermore our dead--our radiant dead shall reign.

Imperishable as the mountain height That marks their place afar, their numbers shine, Who with the first-fruits of a joyful might To human liberty another shrine Here sanctified; nor vainly have they sped That made this desert dearer far than home, And left one sanctuary more to tread For England, whose memorial pathways roam Beside her hero sons, beneath the field and foam.

THEN AND NOW

When I was young and leapt into the Spring-- An eager, quick-eyed, all-inquiring thing-- I hunted wood and valley, sea and shore Yet knew not how to feel the wonders that I saw.

Now am I old and creep into the Spring-- A grey-haired, dim-eyed, still inquiring thing. By ancient ways, a shadow, still I steal, Yet know not how to see the wonders that I feel.

Come Youth again, while to another Spring My memories the old adventure bring. Wonder and wander yet once more with me. I’ll teach you how to feel, and you my eyes shall be.

VIGIL

There is a glen beneath a lonely hill, Where the deep tangles of the red brake fern Huddle to death and beautifully burn, While maiden birches flame along the sunset still.

Like morning lamps they fade; their gold expires Among the silvery shadows of each stem. Delicious light gently departs from them Where winter bloweth out the autumn’s final fires.

Furzes, all agate-budded for the spring, Hedge round about the coomb and, higher still, A mist of naked branches hides the hill, And pines bring warmth and scent and dusky sheltering.

How oft have I within this vernal wood Watched the green mantle and the sweet sap mount. Trees are mine own familiars; them I count Among the changeless hearts that make my chiefest good.

How often, when the first of blossoms come, Do I behold the opening of their eyes. Mine is the worship; theirs the shy surprise That I so well should know each punctual haunt and home.

Here have I watched full many a night from far Like lover shadowy, ere set of sun, Dark-eyed steal hither, and when day was done, Mist meet the gentle moon; dew, the eternal star.

Once more the stroke of every madcap wind Doth shake the bough and dash the ripe fruit down, Or shower red leaves and berries for a crown, October’s stormy hair to glorify and bind.

Again I see; again I sigh to see The fading, flaming year sink to her end, Another summer--sure another friend-- Decline and die and pass with music solemnly.

Farewell, ye happy, rainbow-winged hours; The autumn’s dew and bitter, silver breath Shall freeze your rosy feet, and strike to death Your spirits where ye drowse amid the withered flowers.

Farewell ye domes and canopies of June Raining upon the earth in red and gold; Hiding the sodden bosom of the wold; Flying like little ghosts, beneath the hunter’s moon.

Beside the passing year my watch I keep And mark the sad-eyed gloamings steal away, And feel the low and lemon light of day Fade, like an aching care, upon the fringe of sleep.

DARTMOOR NIGHT

Now twilight spreads her cool and amber plume, Descending on the solitudes until All detail dies: the valley and the hill Together darkling roll and merge into the gloom.

Faints the far emerald west and day is done; White Venus, throbbing on the dusky gold, Swings out her lamp above the weald and wold, While little, earth-born flames make answer one by one.

A child upon her mighty mother’s breast, Earth cuddles in the bosom of old Night, Who, gathering coomb and woodland, heath and height, Opens her dewy wings to hide their dreamless rest.

The mists are trailing grey by watersmeet, Night-hidden in the forest far below, And where their pearly-paven vapours flow, The Huntress upward steals to find her starry seat.

Her waxing splendours over moss and mire Flood fen and barrow, reeve and pool and burn, The lone, high tors, the tracks that wind and turn Where the quartz crystal shines with dim and tremulous fire.

She marks the stone-man’s lodges empty lie; The broken folds, the tinner’s delving place; She lights the cairn, the cross, the faltering trace Of bygone dead who homed in this immensity.

From cottage window fades the ruby gem And glimmer moonbeams only; while the moon, Mounting to heaven upon her silver shoon, A sovereign sceptre holds and wears the diadem.

O Queen of sleep and silence, thou shalt reign, With lustral glory poured to soothe and bless The least small life in all the wilderness, Till morning stars awake and sing the dawn again.

THE FRUIT OF THE TREE

The seraphim, beneath their burning blades, Moved in a wave of light; while overhead Gleamed the pale moon, a ghost behind the tongues Of all those flaming swords; and rearward crept The brutes of Paradise--the tiger, ounce, The leopard and the minions of the night. Stealthy they stalked, with growls that showed the fang, While in a broken thread of fiery beads, Golden and green and ruby, through the dark, Fierce glowed their eyes behind that angel host. And now they roared for mingled grief and fear, Because, before the moving seraphim, Flung out for ever from the dingles deep And all those pleasant places of sweet shade Beside the rivers and beneath the trees, Two, whom the great cats loved, were driven forth. Bewildered and disgraced, the primal pair, Now glimmering with moonlight on their heads And streaks of flickered gold that splashed along Their thighs and backs, reflected from the swords, Together went. Hand clasped in hand they moved Before the marching angels, till at last The confines of the only home they knew Were reached and the soft herbage made an end. Over their heads the tracery of trees Ceased, and the naked moon among her stars Hung in the nightly sky and threw a light, Cold as grey ashes, on the earth beneath. Starkly the desert struck upon their toes With harsh and flinty welcome; Eve’s right foot, Set down upon a thistle, cried to her Of a new grief; she moaned in pain, and he, Adam, with tenderness bent down to it And licked the blood that sparkled on her skin In drops the moonlight robbed of sanguine stain And turned to bright, black pearls. Thus driven forth Were they for their transgression, and the guard Took open order on the fringe of Eden, Against whose frontier dark the sentinels Stood silently, lit by their burning swords, To hold the garden precincts; while between Each seraph and his neighbour still peeped out The creatures of the earth and howled farewell To those white things that had befriended them, And taught their cubs to play in Paradise. They crouched and lashed their tails and shook the night That Eve and Adam to the wilderness Should pass away without one lynx or pard To purr beside them. All would have rushed forth But that the ring of fire struck on their hearts And sent them snarling back. For there had been A precious bond, a close and curious link Twixt Adam and his partner and the brutes-- A harmony of happiness and peace Now vanished from the earth. But then, indeed, The first man and his woman stood so near To all their neighbours, sharing their delights And moving in that new-made world so nigh To beast and bird and saurian, that they-- The conscious creatures--knowing little more Than woodland wisdom shared with all the rest, Guessed not the gap between. Had ape or sloth Broke heavenly ordinance and ate the Fruit, Then had they been the lords of good and ill, And haply ruled the kingdoms of the earth With kinder wit than man. Yet it fell out The creatures in the image of their God Won the beasts’ homage by their shapes upright, Yet shared their subjects’ ignorance. The stag, The tawny bear, the elephant, the wolf, The monkey folk and all the greater fowls, Composed their theme and filled their human minds With fascination. And betwixt themselves, When Adam spoke to Eve or she to him, Their converse was abrupt and cynical, Untinged by human ruth, or tender care Each for the other’s inner happiness. And when the shadows lengthened and their God Walked for awhile between them through the cool Of dewy evenings, in their simple way, They chattered to Him of the names they gave Unto the great gier-eagle on the crag, Or hippo, with his mighty nose asnort Above the mud of Paradise. And He Would listen with celestial gravity And go His way again. The couple lacked Much food for thought; indeed, they never thought; For what had they to think about beside The living present and the daily joy Of food and drink and sleep, and playtime shared With lesser things as beautiful as they? Thus did they live through days not fuller fraught With care and vision of to-morrow’s dawn Than their companions of the hoof and pad And claw and shining wing. Their mingled life Was neither more complete nor beautiful Than that of the striped tiger and his mate, Who dwelt together in a porphyry den A stone’s throw from the holt that Adam wove Of living boughs and green wood broken down Wherein to sleep by Eve. The very birds-- The warbler and the chaffinch and the wren, Or the red mouse that loved the seeding grass-- Built snugger homes than they; and they would laugh And wonder how the little, busy things, Having no hands, could weave so close and true; Or how the spider lined her nest with silk To hold her pearly eggs. And when they slept They dreamed of good to-morrows and no more, Such as the children dream.

Then came to them The scorching breath of knowledge, and their jest: To make God laugh when He should come and see Them clad with leaves and flowers, as their friends Were clothed with pelt and feathers--their poor jest, When they perceived them naked, brought them down And cast them out into another world Beyond the joys of Eden.

That first night Their incipient spirits wept some mournful while, Till the moon sank upon a dreary rim Of desolation and they watched the stars Sink to earth’s edge and vanish one by one, Like tears that stole adown night’s cheek; and then They turned to look again where Paradise Lay in a purple shadow on the east Under her palms and mountains; while along Those far-flung boundaries dim sparks of fire Twinkled to mark the soldier angels stand. Adam at last, in hollow of a dune, Whose horrent hair along its crest sprang up In withered bents, a place of shelter found Where the night wind came not; and there the man His limping partner brought, then laid her down To sleep till day; but it was keen and chill And, finding that Eve slumbered, Adam came As close as he well might to warm his blood And draw a little of her golden mane About his frozen bosom.

Thus they slept, Until there broke on earth another day, Whose light unwitting touched a wondrous sight More pregnant and more precious to the world Than Earth until that dayspring hour had known. For when young Eve awakened, from her eyes Flashed a new glory, something that till now Had never trembled in those azure deeps; And, with her arms about her dreaming man, She called to him, and he arose to see A change in her fair face, the which he read In light of his own quickening. Her voice Proclaimed a new evangel from her heart, And full upon the thin and desert air Poured in the ear of Adam such sweet words That he forgot his hunger and his grief And looked at her, the dew in her bright hair, As subject on a queen.

“My love!” she cried; And since the word had never till that dawn Set the air singing, he forgot all else And listened open-mouthed. “My own true love, Dost thou not feel within thy bosom’s home A strange new spirit, born for me and thee? Dost thou not pant with such a joy that never, Until this daybreak on the wilderness, Thy soul hath throbbed to feel? In that sharp grief, While the white seraphim did drive us out, I felt the first faint thrill that fought the grief, And when you bent and licked my wounded foot, Even then there flashed to me a sudden bliss That ministered the pain!”

“And I,” said he, “If I had felt as now I feel--on fire With tender adoration for my Eve-- Oh, then, I never should have played the coward And flung the blame on you, my better part, But taken it myself. This light within, That burns far brighter than the eastern sky, Doth show how mean and vile and base a thing I did to bleat that thou hadst tempted me; For now I grow to something greater far, More wise and more discerning than before I ate the Fruit of the Tree. O would that I Had claimed the punishment, as meet I should, And been cast out and suffered happily Knowing that thou wert safe in Paradise; For then had I but laughed at thorns and flint And the cold night beneath the setting stars, Knowing my Eve safe in our little lair.” “Man, man!” she answered, “what our lair to me, And what all Eden and the golden sun, Without my Adam? What the crystal founts And aubade of the birds in misty denes? And what the morning mellowness of fruits, Or subtle, magic fragrance born by night From moony blossoms, that obeyed the moon And oped, all others shutting? Eden’s self Had been this ugly desert spread for Eve Without thee; but beside thee, close and close, Near as thy shadow, then these antres vast And dreary vague of lion-coloured dust Is paradise enough. For we have won From that thrice-blessed Fruit a dearer thing Than all the blossomy paths of Paradise Knew how to offer. Through the taste of it We are become above the cherubim, Who never feel, beneath the rainbow light That dreams upon their bosoms, what a man And woman feel when love unveils their eyes.” “We must tell God,” said Adam. “When He knows What hides within the amethystine rind Of that sweet globe forbidden, then will He Make haste to eat of it Himself, and so, Touched by ineffable and sacred love, Seek us, all naked in the desert sand, With pity on His awful brow. And then Us will He soon forgive, for if He eats, A tender, lambent flame of gentle ruth Must burn within His everlasting Heart And crown Him with pure mercy.” Thus the man; And then the woman’s voice throbbed cheerfully. “Him will we tell how this that He denied Has lifted us above all lesser life And made us wiser than the seraphim, Who drove me forth so roughly that they scorched My shoulder with their swords. But this I know: If Michael and his winged ones had ate From that kind fruit, as you and I did eat, A gentle pity would have taught them sheathe Their brands and made them weep to do us harm. For what to them were we but beings twain, No better than the silly, little apes That would not come to us from out the wood Until I tempted them with sugary fruits And almonds that they loved? But now, but now Are we above all creatures lifted up And wedded into one--aye, wedded so That life for me is Adam, and for him Nothing but Eve. Let that our Maker hear, And when He learns what now thou art to me And I to thee, and what this lifeless dust And shadeless solitude do seem to be With thy brown hand in mine, then will He know That we, His creatures, now have haply found A dearer and more precious Paradise Than all the hosts of Heaven yet thought upon. Him we must tell, and from our wondrous cup He too shall drink, that He, our God, may know The blessed taste of mercy.”