Chapter 4
One thing only I can say to you Whatever be the things men do; Let one love make May to you, Hold one love true. Who but hears the querulous Sigh and the heavy groan,-- Yet stand for the one love perilous, Though you stand alone.
Yes, and though beaten and beaten By the ravings of the blood; Though with dust and ashes eaten, Be one thing understood. The battle in the cloud overthrows you, Your lips are dashed with foam,-- Yet the one love lives and knows you And leads you home.
Home--ah, God!--to the slumber At last and the waking peace, Where wars without name or number Give last release; Where her whisper again is more to you Than the angels' flaming wars, And proud Death's hands can pour to you The cold of the stars.
XI
The selfishness of grief! ... and yet each turning And questing after some new brave relief Shows other steel stretched forth and on me burning The selfishness of grief.
Till self who was my God and love, my chief, Even these turn from my side with footsteps spurning As, stooping low, I lift the heavy sheaf
Of our flowered hours gathered with our yearning, Gathered so wildly in our happy fief And glimmering beautiful beyond belief, With dazing fragrance, till my dim discerning Sees them the legend dropped for my unlearning The selfishness of grief!
THE LONG ABSENCE
I
ACCOSTED
"If you saw blue eyes that could light and darkle With merriment or pain; If you saw a face that was only heart--lonely In the cities of the plain; If you felt a kindness that was happy as the daybreak, Patient as night, And saw the eyes lift and--the dawn in May break, You have seen her aright.
"Blue-cloaked archangel, rein your steed a little, Though cities flame! Messenger of night, though my words are brittle, Though I know not your name, Though your steed paw sparkles and your pinions quiver With colors like the sea, Tell me if you saw her, if you saw my love ever! She is lost to me.
"That is why I walk this windy highway And stop and hark And peer through the moonlight--always my way! And listen up the dark And knuckle my forehead to remember her truly, The very She; And that is why I cling your rein unduly To answer me!"
But the eyes were deep and dark, though somehow tender. Haste was manifest In the gauntlet, the greaves, the irid splendor That pulsed on his breast. He did not even gesture to the night grown holy, But shook his rein As his steed leapt forth; while I--turned slowly To the cities of the plain.
II
THE HOUSE AT EVENING
Across the school-ground it would start To light my eyes, that yellow gleam,-- The window of the flaming heart, The chimney of the tossing dream, The scuffed and wooden porch of Heaven, The voice that came like a caress, The warm kind hands that once were given My carelessness.
It was a house you would not think Could hold such sacraments in things Or give the wild heart meat and drink Or give the stormy soul high wings Or chime small voices to such mirth Or crown the night with stars and flowers Or make upon this quaking earth Such steady hours.
Yet, that in storm it stood secure, And in the cold was warm with love, Shall its similitude endure Past trophies that men weary of, When two were out of fortune's reach, Building great empires round a name And ushering into casual speech Dim worlds aflame.
III
FOR THINKING EVIL
For thinking evil and planning shame The fire licked upward--at first a name, Then star-devouring rebellious flame.
The dread light lingered high on the sky. It grew and reddened--a voiceless cry. It spread and touched us, we knew not why.
And a man sat staring out to the night, Through tender silence, in warm lamplight, Thinking always, "The fire at height!"
That fire blowing with growing roar Saw us going, closing the door; Saw us parted--who meet no more.
For thinking evil--all men drawn Against a devil that dusked the dawn. Each to his station. All men gone.
Some for the hilltop, fire to its brow,-- Death, long torture,--some for the plough,-- Some for the silence--that I know now.
IV
TRAVEL
You and I dreaming Planned the far-away, Cities and hedgerows, Distant summer day, When, the sun sinking,-- But oh, a distant sun!-- We would be thinking, "Think what we have done!"
You and I whispering Held the isles in fee By a chain of grasses, By your smile to me, Visioning some clime-- But long years between-- When we should say, sometime, "Think what we have seen!"
You and I wondering Of our old age, Turned a page pondering, And turned a page ... Now, my hands pluck ravelled Strands I can't untie. Yet--you always travelled Farther than I!
V
HER WAY
You loved the hay in the meadow, Flowers at noon, The high cloud's long shadow, Honey of June, The flaming woodways tangled With Fall on the hill, The towering night star-spangled And winter-still.
And you loved firelit faces, The hearth, the home,-- Your mind on golden traces, London or Rome,-- On quaintly-colored spaces Where heavens glow With his quaint saints' embraces,-- Angelico.
In cloister and highway (Gold of God's dust!) And many an elfin byway You put your trust,-- A crock and a table, Love's end of day, And light of a storied stable Where kings must pray.
Somewhere there is a village For you and me, Hay field, hearth and tillage,-- Where can it be? Prayers when birds awake, Daily bread, Toil for His sunlit sake Who raised us dead.
With this in mind you moved Through love and pain. Hard though the long road proved, You turned again With a heart that knew its trust Not ill-bestowed. With this you light the dust That clouds my road.
BY THE COUNSEL OF HER HANDS
"Propter veritatem, et mansuetudinem, et justitiam: et deducet te mirabiliter dextera tua. Alleluia."
With her clear eyes lifted, Dreaming, lighting, swift and quelling On all darkness drifted From this earth, a vacant dwelling,-- With her haste flashing, flowing Bright above all fear or scorning,-- I have seen my darling going Up the mountains of the morning!
Oh, like harps wrung thrilling, Like those viols that voice their answer To the wild still willing Of the heavens' necromancer, From the flowers around her rises Music--gold, more gold in glory-- First of all those pure surprises At the ending of the story.
Through the trees she passes Where the purple spreads in shadow, Through the dew-bright grasses Of that heaven-quiet meadow, Up the way of climbing vines, Never faltering, never failing, Where the blue of heaven shines Through the sun for only veiling.
Flowers and leaves together sing Like those birds in clouds that choir. Aching-sweet from silver string, Purling flute and golden wire Music flows no mortal knows Even in April thronged with voices. Deeper glory throbs and glows Till the trembling air rejoices.
Sweet and deep, sweet and deep In the heart dark and aching, Glamorous waves across my sleep Is that tide of splendor breaking. Pure and high, pure and high, Shaking every star to chiming, Till the wonder-stricken sky Thrills and trembles to the rhyming!
Seraphim and cherubim On their wings' immaculate wonder Rise in whirlwinds from the dim, Pass through voids of rolling thunder, Mount from lightning into light, One great surge of praise awaking, White and white into the height-- And the music trembling--breaking--!
But above the wood of fear, On one white road forever, From the darkness mounts my dear In her still and bright endeavor, With her kind brave eyes, Honest hands and heart of healing,-- Lips that rapturously surmise-- Little smiles upon them stealing.
For--a violet twilight now Spreads--as arms had cast a shadow And the Godhead stooped to bow Over phantom hill and meadow! And--again--a field Floats before her--as her choice is-- Where _her_ heaven is revealed In those small and rippling voices.
Elfin flowers invoked alive, Fairy clouds from hives of honey Like no angry human hive, Billows of brightness swift and sunny, Pattering, chuckling, panting haste, Rosy-shy--though never sweeter Than the three her arms embraced-- Heaven's children flock to meet her!
There are harps in Heaven That must fail against that splendor; And the Sacred Seven Bow their heads in mute surrender. Holy Mother of God, tonight Bend your star-bright eyes and brimming On the sweetness of that sight In that meadow, dusk and dimming!
For, with hands in grasp so small Of the tumbling ones that follow,-- With her smile upon them all, Up the hill and through the hollow,-- With that rich voice crooning, waking Sparkling gusts of joy and laughter,-- Climbs the Light of my forsaking, Mounts the Hope of my hereafter!
Harshest song, bow down! Mutinous words!--to make immortal How the heavens in starlight drown As she enters in the Portal, How the Heavenly City glows, How the bells cry, "We have found her!" As through tears and praise she goes With the children crowding round her!
STRENGTH BEYOND STRENGTH
"If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee, what wilt thou do with the horsemen?"
Breathless, beaten as with whips of wonder, Scourged and naked to the flying sky,-- Yet have I heard the hoofs of thunder, Seen the horsemen glimmering by.
Head back, teeth bared, eyes aglitter, Questioning still the black reply, Laboring stride and breath grown bitter-- _Phantom horsemen swerving by!_
Foot on the flint and burning, parching Death at the throat, with gall to taste. _Rank on rank are the footmen marching, Wave on wave do the footmen haste!_
Past and past me toiled and slowing, Gasping breathing and straining limb,-- _Rank on rank are the footmen going Forward to fog and the distance dim._
Sledge on the brain and huge hands crushing Hard on my heart that they wring at will. _Wave on wave are the footmen rushing, Surging in silence across the hill._
Sudden lit road they run together Just as the cloven mist-wreaths close! Each, each strives by a stirrup-leather Where some glimmering horseman goes!
Iron in sinew, steel persuasion Now of the weak and sobbing will; Scorn that beats on the old evasion; Limbs that move for the further hill.
Teeth clenched hard on an execration, Chin sunk deep on a laboring chest-- Racing death with a revelation, Dead and done with--but forging abreast,
Forging past them and past, and gaining Once again to my hard-fought place. Lord of Runners, requite my feigning! Help me only to run this race!
Head-down, plunged through the roiling weather, Flinging the sweat from a straining brow,-- _Now, I run by your stirrup-leather. Golden Horseman, I see you now!_
QUE SAIS-JE?
If I could answer that sob of the brave little heart, If I could answer that silence I suddenly fear, If I could give him truth that would set this apart From creeping question, my dear,
There would be ground for our feet, sky for our eyes, At least, at worst. All I can whisper is dreams And faith I hold, being doubtful of all things "wise" And all the outrage that seems.
We are your boys to the end, that is all I know. I the stronger as yet, but knowing no more For all my years than I guessed at years ago And searched through weary lore.
I thought they knew who were older and wiser than I. I saw them confident, grave, with their answers swift. Till I stood in turn at the edge of earth and sky And saw the planets adrift,
And felt my heart struggling and striving for rest And my baffled mind groping and yearning for peace In some great answer or on some infinite breast Of last complete release.
And now I turn his mind to fanciful things And grip him close and hoarsely murmur my love And pray away from him all this pain that clings To this mind I am weary of.
Oh, I will teach him as best a man can teach And strive to find him all knowledge of you I hold And make you near to him even when out of reach Of my treacherous heart and cold.
For though I cannot see there is more to be seen, And what I cannot know is in presciences, And all you are is as it has ever been Between my heart and his.
EBB-TIDE
You who were never afraid of truth or doubt, Only saying "The light in the soul is real, The spirit of grace is true, the lamp is not put out." I must follow forever your white ideal.
Splendor amid the smoke and the dust and vapor, Truth through the litter of lies and rubble of dreams, Mutable yet immutable; changed, and the shaper Of all that light in the mind that steadily gleams!
So--words fail, and run to ironic length; Like panting breath the phrases quiver and fade. And the heart unthought-of throbs its appalling strength-- Tireless--till it too in the dust is laid.
But something lives--say there is something lives! Our passion it is, all of our will to be-- Something in men like a rout of fugitives Hurrying on the shore of a phantom sea,
Hurrying, wailing, questing, seeing the moon Light that waste of beauty and terror and plangent sound; Knowing the tide creeps on, and that soon, too soon, All of the torches and all of the flowers lie drowned
Yet that that sea moves not of its movement only, All of the dim vast force is motes that blend, Each still striving and still secure and lonely Unto some end, some great mysterious end.
You who were never afraid of truth or doubt-- Granted that truth we know!--oh, eyes of mine, Eyes in my soul that will never glimmer out,-- This is my soul's ebb-tide, but I make the Sign!
COWARD
By her beauty stayed, by her love empowered, (_Coward! Coward!_) Take the honest light and pray for grace. Where her lightning struck, where her pureness flowered, (_Coward! Coward!_) Dare to see her face.
Through the sea of lies--skies have always lowered!-- (_Coward! Coward!_) Be she your horizon or your mist, Make straight on, though dawn be still undowered, (_Coward! Coward!_) Toward the timeless tryst.
One thing now you know for truth at least, One thing more than groan of witless beast, One thing more than jest at mumming feast, Pain is still increased, increased, increased Marking life like milestones toward Love's East.
AQUILIFER
Ax and bundled rods let Cæsar's henchmen bear, Down to the house of sods processional torchmen pass,-- When was your part with these, armed thought's aquilifer, Turning with streaming standard where the barbarians mass!
Cæsar's screaming eagles black as Hell's vultures flew, But birds went up our dawning splendid and wing and wing And bright for the slaves and captives your fearless banner blew And laughing-glad as a trumpet the faith you still could sing.
Old as the world is evil and disenchantment old. Man's ancient heart is bitter, his hard eyes doubt of a sign. Blown hair beneath that banner that floated in folds of gold, In spirit I see you standing first in the battle-line.
Kind, and a girl, and little, but wiser than all their sneers; Truer than their predictions, daring to be not base; Daring to ride for the Captain who held through blood and tears Life well lost for justice and love acclaimed to the race.
Still with shifting and turning, with minds and the ways of swine, Earth is girded by Cæsar's men, life a stag in a snare,-- Yet still--your banner burning first in the battle-line, Aye, and the trumpets blowing for dawning, Aquilifer!
THE WOMAN
You could hurt and you could heal, You could hide and still reveal, You were lilies, lilies and steel.
You the near and you the far Were as lamplight and a star.
I cannot tell them what you were; Yet, Death, you have not all of her.
No, I, the passionate nondescript, Have wine your lips have never sipped,
Have wine of her in my heart's blood Whom I never understood.
You were tender and benign, Trusting--and all fire divine And a constellation's sign.
You the far and you the near, You heaven high and heaven here, You the quest, and closest dear.
Ah, God, you have not all of her, For still my cause she can prefer Where she goes, and where You were.
You could weep and you could rise With the Word clear in your eyes, With a strength beyond the wise.
Girl and goddess, will and love, Struggling, battling, winged above Memories I have memory of!
PERVIGILIUM
Oh, not in words--for what are words to seeing; Yet not in sight, for presence veils and hides; Not even in sleep, though then the gates of being Stand open to the large eternal tides; Neither in memory, embers fading ashen; Nor by the code, wherein the voice is dumb; Nor wild still love, fluttered by veils of passion, Rise summit by summit to Janiculum!
Think not to speak and tell the riddling purport; Think not that sight of beauty caught the best; Nor any dream furls its dim sails in her port; Nor any memory makes her manifest; Nor by a measure of days mete out her measure, Nor through remembered poignance pluck her strings. For she, like moonlight on some hidden treasure, Steals glimmering down and renders vain these things.
Then I cried, "Love!"--but stars not even shrinking Glittered the same and night remained the same. Slowly I swam on dark tides of my thinking, Yet like no moon she rose to hear her name. I lay like sand unrimmed of sea and crisping Under dead sunlight, parched as bleaching bone, Till all seas shrank and dried, and the last lisping Of beaded water vanished from the stone.
Then jagged lightning forked, the thunder shattered Like stunning guns. Amain the trees were blown And shrieked and writhed and whirled their branches tattered Like patriarchs waking to some end long-known,-- All my heart's storm--assault and wild repulsion-- And hissing sand-coils swaying high and dim-- Flash blinding-bright! And through that last revulsion I saw her passing on the desert's rim.
TIME WAS
Time was when you would enter That door and I would be No longer in the darkness Upon the sea, Sailing through lowering tempest Of thoughts within the brain.... If that could be so Ever again....
Time was when your slight gesture Would bid the fairies dance And make the world a twilight Of woodland trance, And wake old aching music All honey through its pain.... If that could be so Ever again....
Time was when I would flout you With clever something said-- And could not live without you When you turned your head. With me you walked the sunlight, With me you walked the rain.... If that could be so Ever again....
THE MASTERS
Two with great hearts, deeply you proved them. Laughing you loved them, childlike you said, "Oh, but this is the part--!" Almost I reproved them Drawing you from me, minds long dead.
Yet forever your voice, wraith that was rapture! What great-souled spaces the while you read Joy--pain--mirth--all I would capture,-- Dickens and Browning--your bended head ...
Heaven of lamplight I long for lonely Where all the folk of their fancy tread; Three small faces, and mine,--and only Dickens and Browning--your bended head!
WHEN
It is when the trees have such radiant flowers, Such white and rosy showers, Such fragrant whispering,-- It is when the sun lights such mellow, yellow hours,-- _For lovers love the Spring!_
It is when the moon is so pale and drifting, Blossoms softly sifting From the vines that climb and cling, That my heart will stop to hear love's laughter lifting,-- _For lovers love the Spring!_
It is when the long evenings, their haze of violet wearing, Hold the passing voices as on music's throbbing string, By some vague open window I shall sit long staring,-- _For lovers love the Spring!_
CHILDREN
Children, we played at games--your laughter still is round me. Children, we called each other's names. I hid--you found me. Children, we went in search of death, and came back often. Children, we prayed with equal breath--_no time can soften!_
Children, I loved your pretty looks, your eyebrow lifted. Children, we wandered story-books and star-dust sifted. Children, we plucked amazing flowers in a walled garden. Children, we dreamed through healing hours--_no time can harden!_
THE RETREAT
Some sunny close hung high In depths of sky, Vivid presentment of your old desire; No multitudes, but peace And the release From days and nights that are but pitch and fire.
Some simple garden, old Gray walls that fold Its fragrance in, and one slow softened bell; The waited Face, the light And inner sight And the good voices that you heard so well.
There may you quaintly move,-- You whom I love,-- Sometimes, even now, and make retreat at last With the truth known and rest Made manifest And all the meaning of the hurried past.
And may I find you there When the still air Holds yet the thrilling of His evening smile, And stand within the gate And watch and wait, Till, from your prayer, you turn after a while
To see me stained and torn And travel-worn But yet with all my love of you held fast; And wonder "Is it he?" and know it is-- All mysteries Being outdone by this mysterious last.
And as the evening glows In throbbing rose May you lift your arms then, lift your head and cry "Come!"--and yet sleep not wake Nor dreaming break-- But light forever fold us, you and I.
SEALED
Man has been famed Time out of mind For having gone lamed Or deaf or blind Or weighted down With loads that bind.
And eye and ear Now curtained are To see or hear Rhyme in a star Since you, my dear, Have gone so far.
And limbs that go And lips that speak Are not to know That which they seek.... Does Time jest so In a madman's freak?
No, Time jests not, Nor have I guessed What has overshot All bitter jest Since first Man got Fate's manifest.
Cold eyes averse And stony brows And the old curse On Adam's house Despite, my verse This truth allows:
A clear light hidden, A tower of air, A voice unbidden, A secret stair, And dream long-chidden That makes aware
Thought of a time-- Who shall say how? Oh, burnished grime, Star-studded plough, Common coin of rhyme Ringing golden now!
THE END