Chapter 4

I turned me from that place in humble wise, And fingers soft were laid upon mine eyes, And I beheld the fruitful earth, with store Of odorous treasure, full and golden grain, Ripe orchard bounty, slender stalks that bore Their flowered beauty with a meek content, The prosperous leaves that loved the sun and rain, Shy creatures unreproved that came and went In garrulous joy among the fostering green. And, over all, the changes of the day And ordered year their mutable glory laid-- Expectant winter soberly arrayed, The prudent diligent spring whose eyes have seen The beauty of the roses uncreate, Imperial June, magnificent, elate Beholding all the ripening loves that stray Among her blossoms, and the golden time Of the full ear and bounty of the boughs,-- And the great hills and solemn chanting seas And prodigal meadows, answering to the chime Of God's good year, and bearing on their brows The glory of processional mysteries From dawn to dawn, the woven shadow and shine Of the high moon, the twilight secrecies, And the inscrutable wonder of the stars Flung out along the reaches of the night.

'And, the ancient might Of the binding bars Waned, as I woke to a new desire For the choric song Of exultant, strong Earth-passionate men with souls of fire'.

VI

'Twas given me to hear. As I beheld-- With a new wisdom, tranquil, asking not For mystic revelation--this glory long forgot, This re-discovered triumph of the earth In high creative will and beauty's pride Established beyond the assaulting years, It came to me, a music that compelled Surrender of all tributary fears, Full-throated, fierce and rhythmic with the wide Beat of the pilgrim winds and labouring seas, Sent up from all the harbouring ways of earth Wherein the travelling feet of men have trod, Mounting the firmamental silences And challenging the golden gates of God. 'We bear the burden of the years Clean-limbed, clear-hearted, open-browed; Albeit sacramental tears Have dimmed our eyes, we know the proud Content of men who sweep unbowed Before the legionary fears; In sorrow we have grown to be The masters of adversity.

Long ere from immanent silence leapt Obedient hands and fashioning will, The giant god within us slept, And dreamt of seasons to fulfil The shaping of our souls that still Expectant earthward vigil kept; Our wisdom grew from secrets drawn From that far-off dim-memoried dawn.

Wise of the storied ages we, Of perils dared and crosses borne, Of heroes bound by no decree Of laws defiled or faiths outworn, Of poets who have held in scorn All mean and tyrannous things that be; We prophesy with lips that sped The songs of the prophetic dead.

Wise of the brief beloved span Of this our glad earth-travelling, Of beauty's bloom and ordered plan, Of love and love's compassioning, Of all the dear delights that spring From man's communion with man; We cherish every hour that strays Adown the cataract of the days.' 'We see the dear untroubled skies, We see the glory of the rose, And, laugh, nor grieve that clouds will rise And wax with every wind that blows, Nor that the blossoming time will close, For beauty seen of humble eyes Immortal habitation has Though beauty's form may pale and pass.

Wise of the great unshapen age, To which we move with measured tread All girt with passionate truth to wage High battle for the word unsaid, The song unsung, the cause unled, The freedom that no hope can gauge; Strong-armed, sure-footed, iron-willed We sift and weave, we break and build.

Into one hour we gather all The years gone down, the years unwrought, Upon our ears brave measures fall Across uncharted spaces brought, Upon our lips the words are caught Wherewith the dead the unborn call; From love to love, from height to height We press and none may curb our might.'

VII

O blessed voices, O compassionate hands, Calling and healing, O great-hearted brothers! I come to you. Ring out across the lands Your benediction, and I too will sing With you, and haply kindle in another's Dark desolate hour the flame you stirred in me. O bountiful earth, in adoration meet I bow to you; O glory of years to be, I too will labour to your fashioning. Go down, go down, unweariable feet, Together we will march towards the ways Wherein the marshalled hosts of morning wait In sleepless watch, with banners wide unfurled Across the skies in ceremonial state, To greet the men who lived triumphant days, And stormed the secret beauty of the world.

* * * * *

JAMES ELROY FLECKER

JOSEPH AND MARY

Joseph:

Mary, art thou the little maid Who plucked me flowers in Spring? I know thee not; I feel afraid: Thou'rt strange this evening.

A sweet and rustic girl I won What time the woods were green; No woman with deep eyes that shone, And the pale brows of a Queen.

Mary: (inattentive to his words)

A stranger came with feet of flame And told me this strange thing,-- For all I was a village maid My son should be a King.

Joseph:

A King, dear wife? Who ever knew Of Kings in stables born!

Mary:

Do you hear, in the dark and starlit blue The clarion and the horn?

Joseph:

Mary, alas, lest grief and joy Have sent thy wits astray; But let me look on this my boy, And take the wraps away.

Mary:

Behold the lad.

Joseph:

I dare not gaze: Light streams from every limb.

Mary:

The winter sun has stored his rays, And passed the fire to him.

Look Eastward, look! I hear a sound. O Joseph, what do you see?

Joseph:

The snow lies quiet on the ground And glistens on the tree;

The sky is bright with a star's great light, And clearly I behold Three Kings descending yonder hill, Whose crowns are crowns of gold.

O Mary, what do you hear and see With your brow toward the West?

Mary:

The snow lies glistening on the tree And silent on Earth's breast;

And strong and tall, with lifted eyes Seven shepherds walk this way, And angels breaking from the skies Dance, and sing hymns, and pray.

Joseph:

I wonder much at these bright Kings; The shepherds I despise.

Mary:

You know not what a shepherd sings, Nor see his shining eyes.

THE QUEEN'S SONG

Had I the power To Midas given of old To touch a flower And leave the petals gold, I then might touch thy face, Delightful boy, And leave a metal grace, A graven joy.

Thus would I slay-- Ah, desperate device! The vital day That trembles in thine eyes, And let the red lips close Which sang so well, And drive away the rose To leave a shell.

Then I myself, Rising austere and dumb, On the high shelf Of my half-lighted room, Would place the shining bust And wait alone, Until I was but dust, Buried unknown.

Thus in my love For nations yet unborn, I would remove From our two lives the morn, And muse on loveliness In mine armchair, Content should Time confess How sweet you were.

* * * * *

WILFRID WILSON GIBSON

THE HARE

My hands were hot upon a hare, Half-strangled, struggling in a snare--- My knuckles at her warm wind-pipe-- When suddenly, her eyes shot back, Big, fearful, staggering and black; And ere I knew, my grip was slack; And I was clutching empty air, Half-mad, half-glad at my lost luck ... When I awoke beside the stack.

'Twas just the minute when the snipe As though clock-wakened, every jack, An hour ere dawn, dart in and out The mist-wreaths filling syke and slack, And flutter wheeling round about, And drumming out the Summer night. I lay star-gazing yet a bit; Then, chilly-skinned, I sat upright, To shrug the shivers from my back; And, drawing out a straw to suck, My teeth nipped through it at a bite ... The liveliest lad is out of pluck An hour ere dawn--a tame cock-sparrow-- When cold stars shiver through his marrow, And wet mist soaks his mother-wit.

But, as the snipe dropped, one by one; And one by one the stars blinked out; I knew 'twould only need the sun To send the shudders right about: And as the clear East faded white, I watched and wearied for the sun-- The jolly, welcome, friendly sun-- The sleepy sluggard of a sun That still kept snoozing out of sight, Though well he knew the night was done ... And after all, he caught me dozing, And leapt up, laughing, in the sky Just as my lazy eyes were closing: And it was good as gold to lie Full-length among the straw, and feel The day wax warmer every minute, As, glowing glad, from head to heel. I soaked, and rolled rejoicing in it ... When from, the corner of my eye, Upon a heathery knowe hard-by, With long lugs cocked, and eyes astare, Yet all serene, I saw a hare.

Upon my belly in the straw, I lay, and watched her sleek her fur, As, daintily, with well-licked paw, She washed her face and neck and ears: Then, clean and comely in the sun, She kicked her heels up, full of fun, As if she did not care a pin Though she should jump out of her skin, And leapt and lolloped, free of fears, Until my heart frisked round with her.

'And yet, if I but lift my head, You'll scamper off, young Puss,' I said. 'Still, I can't lie, and watch you play, Upon my belly half the day. The Lord alone knows where I'm going: But, I had best be getting there. Last night I loosed you from the snare-- Asleep, or waking, who's for knowing!-- So, I shall thank you now for showing Which art to take to bring me where My luck awaits me. When you're ready To start, I'll follow on your track. Though slow of foot, I'm sure and steady ...' She pricked her ears, then set them back; And like a shot was out of sight: And, with a happy heart and light, As quickly I was on my feet; And following the way she went, Keen as a lurcher on the scent, Across the heather and the bent, Across the quaking moss and peat. Of course, I lost her soon enough, For moorland tracks are steep and rough; And hares are made of nimbler stuff Than any lad of seventeen, However lanky-legged and tough, However kestrel-eyed and keen: And I'd at last to stop and eat The little bit of bread and meat Left in my pocket overnight. So, in a hollow, snug and green, I sat beside a burn, and dipped The dry bread in an icy pool; And munched a breakfast fresh and cool ... And then sat gaping like a fool ... For, right before my very eyes, With lugs acock and eyes astare, I saw again the selfsame hare.

So, up I jumped, and off she slipped; And I kept sight of her until I stumbled in a hole, and tripped, And came a heavy, headlong spill; And she, ere I'd the wit to rise, Was o'er the hill, and out of sight: And, sore and shaken with the tumbling, And sicker at my foot for stumbling, I cursed my luck, and went on, grumbling, The way her flying heels had fled.

The sky was cloudless overhead, And just alive with larks asinging; And in a twinkling I was swinging Across the windy hills, lighthearted. A kestrel at my footstep started, Just pouncing on a frightened mouse, And hung o'er head with wings a-hover; Through rustling heath an adder darted: A hundred rabbits bobbed to cover: A weasel, sleek and rusty-red, Popped out of sight as quick as winking: I saw a grizzled vixen slinking Behind a clucking brood of grouse That rose and cackled at my coming: And all about my way were flying The peewit, with their slow wings creaking; And little jack-snipe darted, drumming: And now and then a golden plover Or redshank piped with reedy whistle. But never shaken bent or thistle Betrayed the quarry I was seeking; And not an instant, anywhere Did I clap eyes upon a hare.

So, travelling still, the twilight caught me; And as I stumbled on, I muttered: 'A deal of luck the hare has brought me! The wind and I must spend together A hungry night among the heather. If I'd her here ...' And as I uttered, I tripped, and heard a frightened squeal; And dropped my hands in time to feel The hare just bolting 'twixt my feet. She slipped my clutch: and I stood there And cursed that devil-littered hare, That left me stranded in the dark In that wide waste of quaggy peat Beneath black night without a spark: When, looking up, I saw a flare Upon a far-off hill, and said: 'By God, the heather is afire! It's mischief at this time of year ...' And then, as one bright flame shot higher, And booths and vans stood out quite clear, My wits came back into my head; And I remembered Brough Hill Fair. And as I stumbled towards the glare I knew the sudden kindling meant The Fair was over for the day; And all the cattle-folk away; And gipsy folk and tinkers now Were lighting supper-fires without Each caravan and booth and tent. And as I climbed the stiff hill-brow I quite forgot my lucky hare. I'd something else to think about: For well I knew there's broken meat For empty bellies after fair-time; And looked to have a royal rare time With something rich and prime to eat; And then to lie and toast my feet All night beside the biggest fire. But, even as I neared the first, A pleasant whiff of stewing burst From out a smoking pot a-bubble: And as I stopped behind the folk Who sprawled around, and watched it seething, A woman heard my eager breathing, And, turning, caught my hungry eye: And called out to me: 'Draw in nigher, Unless you find it too much trouble; Or you've a nose for better fare, And go to supper with the Squire ... You've got the hungry parson's air!' And all looked up, and took the joke, As I dropped gladly to the ground Among them, where they all lay gazing Upon the bubbling and the blazing. My eyes were dazzled by the fire At first; and then I glanced around; And in those swarthy, fire-lit faces-- Though drowsing in the glare and heat And snuffing the warm savour in, Dead-certain of their fill of meat-- I felt the bit between the teeth, The flying heels, the broken traces, And heard the highroad ring beneath The trampling hoofs; and knew them kin. Then for the first time, standing there Behind the woman who had hailed me, I saw a girl with eyes astare That looked in terror o'er my head; And, all at once, my courage failed me ... For now again, and sore-adread, My hands were hot upon a hare, That struggled, strangling in the snare ... Then once more as the girl stood clear, Before me--quaking cold with fear-- I saw the hare look from her eyes ...

And when, at last, I turned to see What held her scared, I saw a man-- A fat man with dull eyes aleer-- Within the shadow of the van; And I was on the point to rise To send him spinning 'mid the wheels And stop his leering grin with mud ... And would have done it in a tick ... When, suddenly, alive with fright, She started, with red, parted lips, As though she guessed we'd come to grips, And turned her black eyes full on me ... And as I looked into their light My heart forgot the lust of fight, And something shot me to the quick, And ran like wildfire through my blood, And tingled to my finger-tips ... And, in a dazzling flash, I knew I'd never been alive before ... And she was mine for evermore.

While all the others slept asnore In caravan and tent that night, I lay alone beside the fire; And stared into its blazing core, With eyes that would not shut or tire, Because the best of all was true, And they looked still into the light Of her eyes, burning ever bright. Within the brightest coal for me ... Once more, I saw her, as she started, And glanced at me with red lips parted: And as she looked, the frightened hare Had fled her eyes; and merrily, She smiled, with fine teeth flashing white, As though she, too, were happy-hearted ... Then she had trembled suddenly, And dropped her eyes, as that fat man Stepped from the shadow of the van, And joined the circle, as the pot Was lifted off, and, piping-hot, The supper steamed in wooden bowls. Yet, she had hardly touched a bite; And never raised her eyes all night To mine again; but on the coals, As I sat staring, she had stared-- The black curls, shining round her head From under the red kerchief, tied So nattily beneath her chin-- And she had stolen off to bed Quite early, looking dazed and scared. Then, all agape and sleepy-eyed, Ere long the others had turned in: And I was rid of that fat man, Who slouched away to his own van.

And now, before her van, I lay, With sleepless eyes, awaiting day; And as I gazed upon the glare I heard, behind, a gentle stir: And, turning round, I looked on her Where she stood on the little stair Outside the van, with listening air-- And, in her eyes, the hunted hare ... And then, I saw her slip away, A bundle underneath her arm, Without a single glance at me. I lay a moment wondering, My heart a-thump like anything, Then, fearing she should come to harm, I rose, and followed speedily Where she had vanished in the night. And as she heard my step behind She started, and stopt dead with fright; Then blundered on as if struck blind: And now as I caught up with her, Just as she took the moorland track, I saw the hare's eyes, big and black ... She made as though she'd double back ... But when she looked into my eyes, She stood quite still and did not stir ... And picking up her fallen pack I tucked it 'neath my arm; and she Just took her luck quite quietly, As she must take what chance might come, And would not have it otherwise, And walked into the night with me, Without a word across the fells.

And all about us, through the night, The mists were stealing, cold and white, Down every rushy syke or slack: But, soon the moon swung into sight; And as we went my heart was light. And singing like a burn in flood: And in my ears were tinkling bells; My body was a rattled drum: And fifes were shrilling through my blood That summer night, to think that she Was walking through the world with me.

But when the air with dawn was chill. As we were travelling down a hill, She broke her silence with low-sobbing; And told her tale, her bosom throbbing As though her very heart were shaken With fear she'd yet be overtaken ... She'd always lived in caravans-- Her father's, gay as any man's, Grass-green, picked out with red and yellow And glittering brave with burnished brass That sparkled in the sun like flame, And window curtains, white as snow ... But, they had died, ten years ago, Her parents both, when fever came ... And they were buried, side by side. Somewhere beneath the wayside grass ... In times of sickness, they kept wide Of towns and busybodies, so No parson's or policeman's tricks Should bother them when in a fix ... Her father never could abide A black coat or a blue, poor man ... And so, Long Dick, a kindly fellow, When you could keep him from the can, And Meg, his easy-going wife, Had taken her into their van; And kept her since her parents died ... And she had lived a happy life, Until Fat Pete's young wife was taken ... But, ever since, he'd pestered her ... And she dared scarcely breathe or stir, Lest she should see his eyes aleer ... And many a night she'd lain and shaken, And very nearly died of fear-- Though safe enough within the van With Mother Meg and her good-man-- For, since Fat Pete was Long Dick's friend, And they were thick and sweet as honey, And Dick owed Pete a pot of money, She knew too well how it must end ... And she would rather lie stone dead Beneath the wayside grass than wed With leering Pete, and live the life, And die the death, of his first wife ... And so, last night, clean-daft with dread, She'd bundled up a pack and fled ...

When all the sobbing tale was out, She dried her eyes, and looked about, As though she'd left all fear behind, And out of sight were out of mind, Then, when the dawn was burning red, 'I'm hungry as a hawk!' she said: And from the bundle took out bread, And at the happy end of night We sat together by a burn: And ate a thick slice, turn by turn; And laughed and kissed between each bite.

Then, up again, and on our way We went; and tramped the livelong day The moorland trackways, steep and rough, Though there was little fear enough That they would follow on our flight.

And then again a shiny night Among the honey-scented heather, We wandered in the moonblaze bright, Together through a land of light, A lad and lass alone with life. And merrily we laughed together, When, starting up from sleep, we heard The cock-grouse talking to his wife ... And 'Old Fat Pete' she called the bird.

Six months and more have cantered by: And, Winter past, we're out again-- We've left the fat and weatherwise To keep their coops and reeking sties. And eat their fill of oven-pies, While we win free and out again To take potluck beneath the sky With sun and moon and wind and rain. Six happy months ... and yet, at night, I've often wakened in affright, And looked upon her lying there, Beside me sleeping quietly, Adread that when she waked, I'd see The hunted hare within her eyes.

And only last night, as I slept Beneath the shelter of a stack ... My hands were hot upon a hare, Half-strangled, struggling in the snare, When, suddenly, her eyes shot back, Big, fearful, staggering and black; And ere I knew, my grip was slack, And I was clutching empty air ... Bolt-upright from my sleep I leapt ... Her place was empty in the straw ... And then, with quaking heart, I saw That she was standing in the night, A leveret cuddled to her breast ...

I spoke no word; but as the light Through banks of Eastern cloud was breaking, She turned, and saw that I was waking: And told me how she could not rest; And, rising in the night, she'd found This baby-hare crouched on the ground; And she had nursed it quite a while; But, now, she'd better let it go ... Its mother would be fretting so ... A mother's heart ... I saw her smile, And look at me with tender eyes; And as I looked into their light, My foolish, fearful heart grew wise ... And now, I knew that never there I'd see again the startled hare, Or need to dread the dreams of night.

GERANIUMS

Stuck in a bottle on the window-sill, In the cold gaslight burning gaily red Against the luminous blue of London night, These flowers are mine: while somewhere out of sight In some black-throated alley's stench and heat, Oblivious of the racket of the street, A poor old weary woman lies in bed.

Broken with lust and drink, blear-eyed and ill, Her battered bonnet nodding on her head, From a dark arch she clutched my sleeve and said: 'I've sold no bunch to-day, nor touched a bite ... Son, buy six-pennorth; and 't will mean a bed.'

So blazing gaily red Against the luminous deeps Of starless London night, They burn for my delight: While somewhere, snug in bed, A worn old woman sleeps.

And yet to-morrow will these blooms be dead With all their lively beauty; and to-morrow May end the light lusts and the heavy sorrow Of that old body with the nodding head. The last oath muttered, the last pint drained deep, She'll sink, as Cleopatra sank, to sleep; Nor need to barter blossoms for a bed.

DEVIL'S EDGE

All night I lay on Devil's Edge, Along an overhanging ledge Between the sky and sea: And as I rested 'waiting sleep, The windless sky and soundless deep In one dim, blue infinity Of starry peace encompassed me.

And I remembered, drowsily, How 'mid the hills last night I'd lain Beside a singing moorland burn; And waked at dawn, to feel the rain Fall on my face, as on the fern That drooped about my heather-bed; And how by noon the wind had blown The last grey shred from out the sky, And blew my homespun jacket dry, As I stood on the topmost stone That crowns the cairn on Hawkshaw Head, And caught a gleam of far-off sea; And heard the wind sing in the bent Like those far waters calling me: When, my heart answering to the call, I followed down the seaward stream, By silent pool and singing fall; Till with a quiet, keen content, I watched the sun, a crimson ball, Shoot through grey seas a fiery gleam, Then sink in opal deeps from sight.