Part 7
From morn till noon upon the window-pane The tempest tapped with rainy finger-nails, And all the afternoon the blustering gales Beat at the door with furious feet of rain. The rose, near which the lily bloom lay slain, Like some red wound dripped by the garden rails, On which the sullen slug left slimy trails-- Meseemed the sun would never shine again. Then in the drench, long, loud and full of cheer,-- A skyey herald tabarded in blue,-- A bluebird bugled ... and at once a bow Was bent in heaven, and I seemed to hear God's sapphire spaces crystallising through The strata'd clouds in azure tremolo.
QUATRAINS
POETRY
Who hath beheld the goddess face to face, Blind with her beauty, all his days shall go Climbing lone mountains towards her temple's place, Weighed with song's sweet, inexorable woe.
THE UNIMAGINATIVE
Each form of beauty's but the new disguise Of thoughts more beautiful than forms can be; Sceptics, who search with unanointed eyes, Never the Earth's wild fairy-dance shall see.
MUSIC
God-born before the Sons of God, she hurled, With awful symphonies of flood and fire, God's name on rocking Chaos--world by world Flamed as the universe rolled from her lyre.
THE THREE ELEMENTS
They come as couriers of Heaven: their feet Sonorous-sandalled with majestic awe; In raiment of swift foam and wind and heat, Blowing the trumpets of God's wrath and law.
ROME
Above the circus of the world she sat, Beautiful and base, a harlot crowned with pride: Fierce nations, upon whom she sneered and spat, Shrieked at her feet and for her pastime died.
ON READING THE LIFE OF HAROUN ER RESHID
Down all the lanterned Bagdad of our youth He steals, with golden justice for the poor: Within his palace--you shall know the truth!-- A blood-smeared headsman hides behind each door.
MNEMOSYNE
In classic beauty, cold, immaculate, A voiceful sculpture, stern and still she stands, Upon her brow deep-chiselled love and hate, That sorrow o'er dead roses in her hands.
BEAUTY
High as a star, yet lowly as a flower, Unknown she takes her unassuming place At Earth's proud masquerade--the appointed hour Strikes, and, behold! the marvel of her face.
THE STARS
These--the bright symbols of man's hope and fame, In which he reads his blessing or his curse-- Are syllables with which God speaks his name In the vast utterance of the universe.
ECHO
Dweller in hollow places, hills and rocks, Daughter of Silence and old Solitude, Tip-toe she stands within her cave or wood, Her only life the noises that she mocks.
ADVENTURERS
Seemingly over the hill-tops, Possibly under the hills, A tireless wing that never drops, And a song that never stills.
Epics heard on the stars' lips? Lyrics read in the dew?-- To sing the song at our finger-tips, And live the world anew!
Cavaliers of the Cortes kind, Bold and stern and strong,-- And, oh, for a fine and muscular mind To sing a new-world's song!
Sailing seas of the silver morn, Winds of the balm and spice, To put the old-world art to scorn At the price of any price!
Danger, death, but the hope high! God's, if the purpose fail! Into the deeds of a vaster sky Sailing a dauntless sail.
EPILOGUE
I
O Life! O Death! O God! Have we not striven? Have we not known Thee, God As Thy stars know Heaven? Have we not held Thee true, True as thy deepest, Sweet and immaculate blue Heaven that feels Thy dew! Have we not _known_ Thee true, O God who keepest.
II
O God, our Father, God!-- Who gav'st us fire, To soar beyond the sod, To rise, aspire-- What though we strive and strive, And all our soul says 'live'? The empty scorn of men Will sneer it down again. And, O sun-centred high, Who, too, art Poet, Beneath Thy tender sky Each day new Keatses die, Calling all life a lie; Can this be so--and why?-- And canst Thou know it?
III
We know Thee beautiful, We know Thee bitter! Help Thou!--Men's eyes are dull, O God most beautiful! Make thou their souls less full Of things mere glitter. Dost Thou not see our tears? Dost Thou not hear the years Treading our hearts to shards, O Lord of all the Lords?-- Arouse Thee, God of Hosts, There 'mid Thy glorious ghosts, So high and holy! Have mercy on our tears! Have mercy on our years! Our strivings and our fears, O Lord of lordly peers, On us, so lowly!
IV
On us, so fondly fain To tell what mother-pain Of Nature makes the rain. On us, so glad to show The sorrow of her snow, And all her winds that blow.
Us, who interpret right Her mystic rose of light, Her moony rune of night.
Us, who have utterance for Each warm, flame-hearted star That stammers from afar.
Who hear the tears and sighs Of every bud that dies While heav'n's dew on it lies.
Who see the power that dowers The wildwood bosks and bowers With musk of sap and flowers.
Who see what no man sees In water, earth, and breeze, And in the hearts of trees.
Turn not away Thy light, O God!--Our strength is slight! Help us who breast the height! Have mercy, Infinite! Have mercy!
Printed by T. and A. CONSTABLE, (late) Printers to Her Majesty at the Edinburgh University Press