Chapter 1

Transcribed from the 1913 Gay and Hancock edition by David Price, email [email protected]

POEMS OF PROGRESS AND NEW THOUGHT PASTELS

BY

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX

[Picture: Decorative graphic]

GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.

12 AND 13 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN

LONDON

1913

[_All rights reserved_]

* * * * *

ANY edition of my poems published in England by any firm except Messrs. Gay and Hancock is pirated and not authentic.

ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.

_April_ 12, 1910.

PREFACE LOVE’S LANGUAGE

When silence flees before the voice of Love, Of what expression does that god approve? Is dulcet song or flowing verse his choice, Or stately prose, made regal by his voice? Speaks Love in couplets, or in epics grand? And is Love humble, or does he command?

There is no language that Love does not speak: To-day commanding and to-morrow meek, One hour laconic and the next verbose, With hope triumphant and with doubt morose, His varying moods all forms of speech employ. To give expression to his painful joy,

To voice the phases of his joyful pain, He rings the changes on the poet’s strain. Yet not in epic, epigram or verse Can Love the passion of his heart rehearse. All speech, all language, is inadequate, There are no words with Love commensurate.

CONTENTS

PAGE Preface v The Land Between 1 Love’s Mirage 3 The Need of the World 4 The Gulf Stream 7 Remembered 8 Helen of Troy 9 Lais when Young 11 Lais when Old 12 Existence 13 Holiday Songs 15 Astrolabius 18 Completion 21 Sleep’s Treachery 24 Art versus Cupid 25 The Revolt of Vashti 33 The Choosing of Esther 37 Honeymoon Scene 42 The Cost 49 The Voice 52 God’s Answer 55 The Edict of the Sex 56 The World-child 59 The Heights 61 On seeing ‘The House of Julia’ at Herculaneum 63 A Prayer 64 What is Right Living? 66 Justice 67 Time’s Gaze 68 The Worker and the Work 70 Art thou Alive? 72 To-day 74 The Ladder 76 Who is a Christian? 78 The Goal 80 The Spur 82 Awakened! 84 Shadows 86 The New Commandment 88 Summer Dreams 90 The Breaking of Chains 92 December 94 ‘The Way’ 96 The Leader to be 98 The Greater Love 100 Thank God for Life 102 Time Enough 104 New Year’s Day 106 Life is a Privilege 108 In an Old Art Gallery 110 True Brotherhood 111 The Decadent 112 Lord, speak again 113 My Heaven 116 Life 118 God’s Kin 120 Conquest 121 The Statue 122 Sirius 124 At Fontainebleau 128 The Masquerade 129 Sympathy 131 Intermediary 133 Life’s Car 135 Opportunity 135 The Age of Motored Things 136 New Year 136 Disarmament 140 The Call 141 A Little Song 142 NEW THOUGHT PASTELS A Dialogue 145 The Weed 147 Strength 148 Affirm 149 The Chosen 150 The Nameless 152 The Word 153 Assistance 155 ‘Credulity’ 156 Consciousness 157 The Structure 158 Our Souls 159 The Law 160 Knowledge 161 Give 163 Perfection 164 Fear 165 The Way 166 Understood 167 His Mansion 168 Effect 169 Three Things 170 Obstacles 171 Prayer 172 Climbing 173 ‘There is no Death, There are no Dead’ 174 Realisation 176

THE LAND BETWEEN

Between the little Here and larger Yonder, There is a realm (or so one day I read) Where faithful spirits love-enchained may wander, Till some remembering soul from earth has fled. Then, reunited, they go forth afar, From sphere to sphere, where wondrous angels are.

Not many spirits in that realm are waiting; Not many pause upon its shores to rest; For only love, intense and unabating, Can hold them from the longer, higher quest. And after grief has wept itself to sleep, Few hearts on earth their vital memories keep.

Should I pass on, across the mystic border, Let thy love link me to that pallid land; I would not seek the heavens of finer order Until thy barque had left this coarser strand. How desolate such journeyings would be, Though straight to Him, were they not shared by thee.

Wert thou first called (dear God, how could I bear it?) I should enchain thee with my love, I know. Not great enough am I to free thy spirit From all these tender ties, and bid thee go. Nor would a soul, unselfish as thine own, Forget so soon, and speed to heaven alone.

On earth we find no joy in ways diverging; How could we find it in the worlds unseen? I know old memories from my bosom surging, Would keep thee waiting in that Land Between, Until together, side by side, we trod A path of stars, in our great search for God.

LOVE’S MIRAGE

Midway upon the route, he paused athirst And suddenly across the wastes of heat, He saw cool waters gleaming, and a sweet Green oasis upon his vision burst. A tender dream, long in his bosom nursed, Spread love’s illusive verdure for his feet; The barren sands changed into golden wheat; The way grew glad that late had seemed accursed.

She shone, the woman wonder, on his soul; The garden spot, for which men toil and wait; The house of rest, that is each heart’s demand; But when, at last, he reached the gleaming goal, He found, oh, cruel irony of fate, But desert sun upon the desert sand.

THE NEED OF THE WORLD

I know the need of the world, Though it would not have me know. It would hide its sorrow deep, Where only God may go. Yet its secret it can not keep; It tells it awake, or asleep, It tells it to all who will heed, And he who runs may read. The need of the world I know.

I know the need of the world, When it boasts of its wealth the loudest, When it flaunts it in all men’s eyes, When its mien is the gayest and proudest. Oh! ever it lies—it lies, For the sound of its laughter dies In a sob and a smothered moan, And it weeps when it sits alone. The need of the world I know.

I know the need of the world. When the earth shakes under the tread Of men who march to the fight, When rivers with blood are red And there is no law but might, And the wrong way seems the right; When he who slaughters the most Is all men’s pride and boast. The need of the world I know.

I know the need of the world. When it babbles of gold and fame, It is only to lead us astray From the thing that it dare not name, For this is the sad world’s way. Oh! poor blind world grown grey With the need of a thing so near, With the want of a thing so dear. The need of the world I know.

The need of the world is love. Deep under the pride of power, Down under its lust of greed, For the joys that last but an hour, There lies forever its need. For love is the law and the creed And love is the unnamed goal Of life, from man to the mole. Love is the need of the world.

THE GULF STREAM

Skilled mariner, and counted sane and wise, That was a curious thing which chanced to me, So good a sailor on so fair a sea. With favouring winds and blue unshadowed skies, Led by the faithful beacon of Love’s eyes, Past reef and shoal, my life-boat bounded free And fearless of all changes that might be Under calm waves, where many a sunk rock lies.

A golden dawn; yet suddenly my barque Strained at the sails, as in a cyclone’s blast; And battled with an unseen current’s force, For we had entered when the night was dark That old tempestuous Gulf Stream of the Past. But for love’s eyes, I had not kept the course.

REMEMBERED

His art was loving; Eres set his sign Upon that youthful forehead, and he drew The hearts of women, as the sun draws dew. Love feeds love’s thirst as wine feeds love of wine; Nor is there any potion from the vine Which makes men drunken like the subtle brew Of kisses crushed by kisses; and he grew Inebriated with that draught divine.

Yet in his sober moments, when the sun Of radiant summer paled to lonely fall, And passion’s sea had grown an ebbing tide, From out the many, Memory singled one Full cup that seemed the sweetest of them all— _The warm red mouth that mocked him and denied_.

HELEN OF TROY

ON THE ISLE OF CRANAE

The world an abject vassal to her charms, And kings competing for a single smile, Yet love she knew not, till upon this isle She gave surrender to abducting arms. Not Theseus, who plucked her lips’ first kiss, Not Menelaus, lawful mate and spouse, Such answering passion in her heart could rouse, Or wake such tumult in her soul as this. Let come what will, let Greece and Asia meet, Let heroes die and kingdoms run with gore; Let devastation spread from shore to shore— Resplendent Helen finds her bondage sweet. The whole world fights her battles, while she lies Sunned in the fervour of young Paris’ eyes.

ON THE ISLE OF RHODES

The battles ended, ardent Paris dead, Of faithful Menelaus long bereft, Time is the only suitor who is left: Helen survives, with youth and beauty fled. By hate remembered, but by love forgot, Dethroned and driven from her high estate, Unhappy Helen feels the lash of Fate And knows at last an unloved woman’s lot. The Grecian marvel, and the Trojan joy, The world’s fair wonder, from her palace flies The furies follow, and great Helen dies, A death of horror, for the pride of Troy.

* * * * *

Yet Time, like Menelaus, all forgives. Helen, immortal in her beauty, lives.

LAIS WHEN YOUNG

Lais when young, and all her charms in flower, Lais, whose beauty was the fateful light That led great ships to anchor in the night And bring their priceless cargoes to her bower, Lais yet found her cup of sweet turned sour. Great Plato’s pupil, from his lofty height, Zenocrates, unmoved, had seen the white Sweet wonder of her, and defied her power.

She snared the world in nets of subtle wiles: The proud, the famed, all clamoured at her gate; Dictators plead, inside her portico; Wisdom sought madness, in her favouring smiles; Now was she made the laughing-stock of fate: One loosed her clinging arms, and bade her go.

LAIS WHEN OLD

Lais, when old and all her beauty gone, Lais, the erstwhile courted pleasure queen, Walked homeless through Corinth. One mocked her mien— One tossed her coins; she took them and passed on. Down by the harbour sloped a terraced lawn, Where fountains played; she paused to view the scene. A marble palace stood in bowers of green ’Twas here of old she revelled till the dawn.

Through yonder portico her lovers came— Hero and statesman, athlete, merchant, sage; They flung the whole world’s treasures at her feet To buy her favour and exalt her shame.

* * * * *

She spat upon her dole of coins in rage And faded like a phantom down the street.

EXISTENCE

You are here, and you are wanted, Though a waif upon life’s stair; Though the sunlit hours are haunted With the shadowy shapes of care. Still the Great One, the All-Seeing Called your spirit into being— Gave you strength for any fate. Since your life by Him was needed, All your ways by Him are heeded— You can trust and you can wait.

You can wait to know the meaning Of the troubles sent your soul; Of the chasms intervening ’Twixt your purpose and your goal; Of the sorrows and the trials, Of the silence and denials, Ofttimes answering to your pleas; Of the stinted sweets of pleasure, And of pain’s too generous measure— You can wait the _why_ of these.

Forth from planet unto planet, You have gone, and you will go. Space is vast, but we must span it; For life’s purpose is _to know_. Earth retains you but a minute, Make the best of what lies in it; Light the pathway where you are. There is nothing worth the doing That will leave regret or rueing, As you speed from star to star.

You are part of the Beginning, You are parcel of To-day. When He set His world to spinning You were flung upon your way. When the system falls to pieces, When this pulsing epoch ceases, When the _is_ becomes the _was_, You will live, for you will enter In the great Creative Centre, In the All-Enduring Cause.

HOLIDAY SONGS

I

Sailing away on a summer sea, Out of the bleak March weather; Drifting away for a loaf and play, Just you and I together; And it’s good-bye worry and good-bye hurry And never a care have we; With the sea below and the sun above And nothing to do but dream and love, Sailing away together.

Sailing away from the grim old town And tasks the town calls duty; Sailing away from walls of grey To a land of bloom and beauty, And it’s good-bye to letters from our lessers and our betters, To the cold world’s smile or its frown. We sail away on a sunny track To find the summer and bring it back And love is our only duty.

II

Afloat on a sea of passion Without a compass or chart, But the glow of your eye shows the sun is high, By the sextant of my heart. I know we are nearing the tropics By the languor that round us lies, And the smile on your mouth says the course is south And the port is Paradise.

We have left grey skies behind us, We sail under skies of blue; You are off with me on lovers’ sea, And I am away with you. We have not a single sorrow, And I have but one fear— That my lips may miss one offered kiss From the mouth that is smiling near.

There is no land of winter; There is no world of care; There is bloom and mirth all over the earth, And love, love everywhere. Our boat is the barque of Pleasure, And whatever port we sight The touch of your hand will make the land The Harbour of Pure Delight.

ASTROLABIUS (THE CHILD OF ABELARD AND HELOISE)

I

I wrenched from a passing comet in its flight, By that great force of two mad hearts aflame, A soul incarnate, back to earth you came, To glow like star-dust for a little night. Deep shadows hide you wholly from our sight; The centuries leave nothing but your name, Tinged with the lustre of a splendid shame, That blazed oblivion with rebellious light.

The mighty passion that became your cause, Still burns its lengthening path across the years; We feel its raptures, and we see its tears And ponder on its retributive laws. Time keeps that deathless story ever new; Yet finds no answer, when we ask of you.

II

At Argenteuil, I saw the lonely cell Where Heloise dreamed through her broken rest, That baby lips pulled at her undried breast. It needed but my woman’s heart to tell Of those long vigils and the tears that fell When aching arms reached out in fruitless quest, As after flight, wings brood an empty nest. (So well I know that sorrow, ah, so well.)

Across the centuries there comes no sound Of that vast anguish; not one sigh or word Or echo of the mother loss has stirred, The sea of silence, lasting and profound. Yet to each heart, that once has felt this grief, Sad Memory restores Time’s missing leaf.

III

But what of you? Who took the mother’s place When sweet expanding love its object sought? Was there a voice to tell her tragic lot, And did you ever look upon her face? Was yours a cloistered seeking after grace? Or in the flame of adolescent thought Were Abelard’s departed passions caught To burn again in you and leave their trace?

Conceived in nature’s bold primordial way (As in their revolutions, suns create), You came to earth, a soul immaculate, Baptized in fire, with some great part to play. What was that part, and wherefore hid from us, Immortal mystery, Astrolabius!

COMPLETION

When I shall meet God’s generous dispensers Of all the riches in the heavenly store, Those lesser gods, who act as Recompensers For loneliness and loss upon this shore, Methinks abashed, and somewhat hesitating, My soul its wish and longing will declare. Lest they reply: ‘Here are no bounties waiting: We gave on earth, your portion and your share.’

Then shall I answer: ‘Yea, I do remember The many blessings to my life allowed; My June was always longer than December, My sun was always stronger than my cloud, My joy was ever deeper than my sorrow, My gain was ever greater than my loss, My yesterday seemed less than my to-morrow, The crown looked always larger than the cross.

‘I have known love, in all its radiant splendour, It shone upon my pathway to the end. I trod no road that did not bloom with tender And fragrant blossoms, planted by some friend. And those material things we call successes, In modest measure, crowned my earthly lot. Yet was there one sweet happiness that blesses The life of woman, which to me came not.

‘I knew the hope of motherhood; a season I felt a fluttering heart beat ’neath my own; A little cry—then silence. For that reason I dare, to you, my only wish make known. The babe who grew to angelhood in heaven, I never watched unfold from child to man. And so I ask, that unto me be given That motherhood, which was God’s primal plan.

‘All womankind He meant to share its glories; He meant us all to nurse our babes to rest. To croon them songs, to tell them sleepy stories, Else why the wonder of a woman’s breast? He must provide for all earth’s cheated mothers In His vast heavens of shining sphere on sphere, And with my son, there must be many others— My spirit children who will claim me here.

‘Fair creatures by my loving thoughts created— Too finely fashioned for a mortal birth— Between the borders of two worlds they waited Until they saw my spirit leave the earth. In God’s great nursery they must be waiting To welcome me with many an infant wile. Now let me go and satisfy this longing To mother children for a little while.’

SLEEP’S TREACHERY

As the grey twilight, tiptoed down the deep And shadowy valley, to the day’s dark end, She whom I thought my ever-faithful friend, Fair-browed, calm-eyed and mother-bosomed Sleep, Met me with smiles. ‘Poor longing heart, I keep Sweet joy for you,’ she murmured. ‘I will send One whom you love, with your own soul to blend In visions, as the night hours onward creep.’

I trusted her; and watched by starry beams, I slumbered soundly, free from all alarms. Then not my love, but one long banished came, Led by false Sleep, down secret stairs of dreams And clasped me, unresisting in fond arms. Oh, treacherous sleep—to sell me to such shame!

ART _VERSUS_ CUPID

[_A room in a private house_. _A maiden sitting before a fire meditating_.]

MAIDEN

Now have I fully fixed upon my part. Good-bye to dreams; for me a life of art! Beloved art! Oh, realm serene and fair, Above the mean and sordid world of care, Above earth’s small ambitions and desires! Art! art! the very word my soul inspires! From foolish memories it sets me free. Not what has been, but that which is to be Absorbs me now. Adieu to vain regret! The bow is tensely drawn—the target set.

[_A knock at the door_.]

MAID (_aside_)

The night is dark and chill; the hour is late.

(_Aloud_)

Who knocks upon my door?

_A Voice Outside_

’Tis I, your fate!

MAID

Thou dost deceive, not me, but thine own self. My fate is not a wandering, vagrant elf. My fate is here, within this throbbing heart That beats alone for glory, and for art.

_Voice_

[_Another knock at door_.]

Pray, let me in; I am so faint and cold.