Chapter 2
He never was a man to talk, He was too wise; But things he'd see out on his walk Would blind another's eyes. But when it came to speak about them 'Twas another thing. He'd say, "What use is it to shout them? I want to sing!"
A smallish head, with jet-black hair And eyes grey-blue, You felt when'er he lookt you fair That he must be true; And when he smil'd his dear and shy way Sidelong his mouth, I always thought the sun fell my way And the wind South.
So I possest the knowledge blest That Love had held him fast Since the day our eyes confest, The first time and the last. "Since then," he said, "I never durst Look at you at all, For fear you'd see the hunger and thirst That kept me like a thrall.
vii
"'Twas when you went away and left Me and pain alone, By fortune's theft I stood bereft Of all I'd counted on-- And this also, I ne'er could go On my shepherd life, Without I had the grace to woo You my loving wife.
"There was a fate, I do believe, Call'd us together; God visit me when'er you grieve Taking on my tether! But if we share with every creature That is quick and dead The call of nature unto nature, Then we two should wed.
"You are a beauty bred and born, As any one can see; You walk the world as if in scorn Of riches or degree. Your eyes call home the soft green tone Of the fainting sky When the eve-star keeps watch alone, And the summer is nigh.
"But 'tis your grave and constant mind Beckon'd me to you, Too good, too sweet, too fond, too kind, For me to be untrue. So trust me, lass, I'll not be false While I do live, For we two go where Nature calls, As I believe."
viii
Trust! Oh, I could have sunk to ground And lain under his feet! To have his praise was like a wound, Throbbing and deadly sweet; A wound that lets the welling blood Ebb from the vein, Merging the hurt in drowsihood, And hushing down the pain.
High destiny of Nature's calling, Foil'd and frustrate! Just then the evil tide was crawling To drown love in hate.
V
i
The meadows wear a cloth of gold, The trees wear green; Upon the down in dimpled fold The white lambs glean; Deep blue the skyey canopy, Soft the wind's fan: Behold the earth as it might be If man lov'd man!
Summer is soon; the next new moon Will see the yellowing wheat; Then will be harvest, Earth's high boon To them that work for it. The reapers swink, the heat-waves blink Across the drowsy fen-- Now let hearts shrink from scythes that drink The blood of young men!
ii
As I stood at my open door I caught a flying word: Two strangers past, "Then that means war----" That was what I heard. 'Twas ten o'clock, a summer's day, My love on the hill. "Then that means war," I heard them say, And my heart stood still.
Life had been fair as I stood there, Eight weeks a bride; All of me laid warm and bare To my true love's side! Oh, who should dream of dark to-morrows And lonely weeping Whose steadfast joys and passing sorrows Lay in such a keeping?
There blew a chill wind from the hill Like a sea-breath; I shiver'd and a taint of ill Brought news of death. I blinkt my eyes as who should try To see what is to fear; The sun still shone high in the sky, But no warmth there.
Then far away I saw the sea A rippling golden sheet, And courage flowed again in me-- What foe could break thro' it? And all about the fields and hedges, There when I was born, The river slipping through the sedges, And the growing corn--
A land of quiet tilth and cote, Of little woods and streams, Of gentle skies and clouds afloat, And swift sun-gleams! A land where knee-deep cattle keep, Chewing as they stand; Of hillsides murmurous with sheep-- That is my native land!
They say you never love so dear As when you are to part; I know, to see my land so clear Cut me to the heart. What vain regrets to have lov'd so ill What was our all! What idle vows to love her still Though she should fall!
At stroke of noon my love came in Sharpset for his food; To see him was right sense to win, And feel safe and good. I was asham'd my fears to tell Lest he should think, "I thought I knew this woman well-- But what makes her shrink?"
iii
The summer went her gracious way Of sun and lingering eves; I did my share to win the hay, The corn stood in sheaves Ere August month was fairly come; And when it was here I knew I carried in my womb The harvest of my dear.
iv
When I was sure I sat down quiet In the deep shade, And if my heart was all in riot I was not afraid. I did not think, nor say a pray'r, But lookt straight before me, And felt that Someone else stood there With hands held o'er me.
I thought His peace blest my increase; But then, as it seem'd, A shadow made my joy to cease, And the day was dimm'd. I shiver'd as if one a knife Should pull forth of the sheath. I think just then the Lord of Life Gave way to Him of Death.
As one bestead with gossamer-thread I pluckt at my eyes To catch again the glory shed, The hope, the load, the prize; But no more hands invisible Held like a shade o'er me, And there seem'd little enough to tell My husband momently.
The long forenoon my thought I held, And yet all thro' it The wires all England over shrill'd, And I never knew it! In a high muse I nurst my news All the forenoon, While England braced her limbs and thews To a marching tune.
v
I serv'd my love, when he came home, His meal; then on his knee I told him what I might become, And he kiss'd me; Then said, "Indeed, there may be need Of this little one, For many a woman's heart must bleed For wanting of a son.
"Since we awoke, the word is spoke, And if 'tis still right That English folk keep faith unbroke, Then must England fight." I could not look, nor think, nor ask What himself would do, But call'd to task my pride, to bask In what had warm'd me thro'.
Oh, he was grave and self-possest Under love's new crown! He took me in his arms to rest, And lay my head down A moment on his shoulder; then Went steady to his work. I knew what fate soe'er call'd men He was none to shirk.
Now I must play the helpful wife, And my new pride Be little worth to ease the strife That vext me in the side; For like a green and aching wound, Like a throbbing vein I felt this terror on the ground Of young men slain.
The swooning summer sun sank low, And all the dusty air Held breathlessly beneath his glow, So tir'd, so quiet and fair, I would not think that men could live In such glory a minute, To hate and grudge, to slay and reive Poor souls within it.
vi
I heard fond crying in my ears, Fond and vain regret For life as it had been ere tears Made women's eyes wet; I saw arise the host of stars And listen'd to their song; "O we have seen a thousand wars And woe agelong!
"What are you men, what are you women But a shifting sand? The tide of life is overbrimming-- God holds not His hand; But all the evil with the good To His mill is grist; He serves his mood now with man's blood Who serv'd it once with beast."
So sang the stars. That night our love Burn'd at its holiest; For aught we knew the same might prove Our last in the nest. But from the bed my passion pled, O God, let us be! If woman's anguish her bestead, Then forsake not me!
vii
I dare not trace that watching space Of days, too short, too long-- Too long to wear a patient face, Too short to wear a strong. I us'd to think I'd have him choose His duty and begone; And then, No, no, I dare not lose Him ere he take his son!
Too long, too short the days to wait, To plan and think and dread; And happy we whose poor estate Claims our work for our bread. Each day I went to scour and scrub As my mother us'd, Or stood before the washing-tub Where the linen sluiced.
And so my love with careful hand And careful eye Led his white flock about the land; And I must sigh, "There's no rebelling in a poor man's dwelling, The roof stoops to the blast; And no heart-swelling meets God's compelling, And what is cast is cast!"
viii
But as the tide crawls to his full Without your knowing, Invading rock and filling pool, Endlessly flowing; Lo, while you sit and look at it, Idle, little thinking, The flood is brimming at your feet, Lipping there and winking--
The very same the Great War grew; Like a flowing tide It spread its channels thro' and thro' The quiet countryside. One day you'd stop: a poster up, And Lord, how it glared! The next there'd be a very crop, And not a body stared.
And then the lorries flung along By ones and twos, and then In snaky line some twenty strong, Full of shouting men. They made me blench with noise and stench, But more, I do believe, To know them gaining inch by inch The earth whereby we live.
So faded fast the painted past Beneath the mist of war; One could not think life had been cast In sweet lines before. There was no list in that red mist For love or wholesome breath, But making rage our staple grist We ground the dust of death.
Our men held talk among themselves, But said little to we; And soon they went by tens and twelves Soldiers to be. I knew how 'twould be from the first, I think my heart could tell; I loved a man who never durst Not do well.
ix
How young, how gay they marcht away, All our village boys! Leaving us women here to pray, Drowning with their noise Misdoubt and eager mother-love, Hungry on the watch, As if they went to race and shove In a football match.
But my love chose in soberness Another way, his own; And God I bless that my distress Came suddenly down. A swift November night was falling In a windless air; I heard him indoors, heard him calling, And went, and he was there.
x
He stood still, and his gaze Was far off, and slow And quiet the words he says: "Nancy, I must go."
In my still heart's deep I gloried in the trust He handed me to keep, In his quiet "I must."
No more we said that night, But sat in the gloom; We sat without candle-light In our little room.
Handfast, like girl and boy, There we sat on, Hoarding our store of joy Against he were gone.
Handfast, like boy and girl, And my eyes they did fill; But my heart was in a whirl To have him there still.
'Twas when we were abed, And I against his heart, That I knew the great dread It would be to part.
Old sayings, that sounded new, Sweet, every broken word-- "My Nancy, sweet and true, My pretty wild bird!"
I let him kiss me, but I Lay quite still in his arm: If I had started to cry God only knew the harm!
And if he thought me cool 'Twould make an easier going; But _if_ he thought me cool 'Twas not for want of knowing.
Towards the twilight gray When my love was sleeping, I sat upright to pray, And heard the sparrows cheeping.
It was their fond love-twitter That broke my prayer down, Turn'd all my faith bitter, To set it by their own.
Their love-life to begin, And mine now--where? Their nest to win, Mine soon to be bare!
I lookt forth from my bed To the cold square of the light-- Unto God I said, "Show me why men must fight,
"You, Who to each one say, Love you one another; You, Who bid women obey Husbands, and sons their mother;
"You, Who of me require To love what I cannot see, Milk and a heart of fire To nourish what may not be!
"Shall my milk be churn'd into gall, Or my blood freeze at the fount, And You make light of it all, And my love of little account?"
Then as I held my throat, God answer'd me by a bird, One long flourishing note, The bravest I ever heard;
And I turn'd where my love lay fast In his wholesome sleep; About him my arms I cast And found grace to weep.
He would do what was right, As I knew very well-- Yes, but who made them fight, And turn'd our heaven to hell?
The more I listen the sighs, The mourning and the dearth, The deeper my heart cries Over this wounded earth.
VI
i
May the good King That guards like sheep Kings and shepherds all Send us quiet sleep!
Shepherds great and small Has He in hold; There need no danger Threaten field or fold.
Lowly in a manger That King was born Of maid undefiled On a winter's morn.
He lay a little child On His mother's knee; Three kings out of the East Came Him to see.
On a mother's breast Still did He lie: Said one king to the other, "Such once was I!"
Then said his brother, "Even thus, I trow, Once lay thy simplicity, _But where is that now_?"
ii
How many a woman's eyes are worn, Weeping a murder'd son! How many wish none they had borne To do as theirs have done! Who dares to see a mask of hate And snarling on the face Which she had pray'd to consecrate To honour for a space?
This high-flusht lad whom she has known Since as a new-born child He lay as soft as thistle-down, Or like an angel smil'd; Whom she has seen, a sturdy imp Tumble bare-breecht at play, Or nurst to health when, quiet and limp, Short-breath'd and flusht he lay;
Or shockhead boy, aburst with joy, Or gawky, ill-at-ease, All hot and coy, a hobbledehoy With laces round his knees-- But hers, her own, with eyes that trust Hers for his better part-- Ah, tiger-lust of War that thrust A hand to snatch that heart!
She hides her woe, and helps him go, She sits at home to pray; He tells her when he met the foe, But nothing of the way. She never knows the way, and who Would know it if she could, What in his fever-heat he do Of rage and dust and blood?
The lads go by, the colours fly, Drums rattle, bugles bray; We only cry, Let mine not die-- No thought for whom he slay. But woman bares a martyr breast, And herself points the flame: Her son, a hero or a beast, Will never be the same.
iii
When forth my love to duty went I sought my old home, My few months' joy over and spent, And lean years to come. My mother blinkt her patient eyes; She said, It was to be. Was I less temperate or more wise To question her decree?
Was it for this, our clasp and kiss? For this end and no other That I was shapt to have increase, And call'd to be mother? Did God make o'er the power to soar On men, that they should sink? Did He outpour a flood of war And leave us on the brink?
Was't so He wove the robe of Love, To mock the lovely earth? Sees He, above, creation move To death, not birth? Go, thou dear head, for God is dead, And Death is our Lord: Between us, red, lies in the bed War, like a naked sword.
iv
O failing heart, accept your part, And thank the Lord, Who bound Your labour daily to the mart, Your service to the ground! Take to the mart your stricken heart, Tho' the chaffer graze it; Shrink not altho' the quick flesh smart-- But meet pain and praise it!
v
He came to see me once again, Stiffen'd in his new buff: A few short hours compact of strain, Too hasty for love; For Love can never be confin'd, But asks eternity. To nurse the lov'd one in the mind The bond must first be free.
And he, he now serv'd otherwhere And could not be the same; To all the world my love was there And answer'd to his name; But not to me, oh, not to me The kisses of his lips Were as of old, but guardedly, Like sunlight in eclipse.
The moment came, I held him close, But had no word to say-- Good-bye, sweetheart, Good-bye, Blush Rose: 'Twas his old way. Then in a hush which seem'd to rock Me like a leaf about, I heard the pulsing of the clock, Counting my dear life out.
And I am here, and you are, where? While the long hours go by, And on my eyes the glaze of care, And in my heart a cry. Bury my heart deep in the grave Where all its grace is hid: What other service should I have Than tend my lovely dead?
vi
Then waiting, watching, judging news, Then terror in the night-- I used to start up with the dews All over me of fright. I dream'd of him on stormy seas; Then, in a woodland bare, I saw my love on hands and knees, With blood upon his hair.
Along the limits of the wood, A green bank full of holes, With lichen'd stumps which lean'd or stood Like crazy channel-poles: 'Twas there I saw my love's drawn face, A face of paper-white, Wherein just for a choking space His eyes shone burning bright;
Then faded, and an eyeless man He crawled along the wood, And from his hair a black line ran And broaden'd into blood. It was not horror of him wrong'd, It was not pity mov'd me; It was, those tortur'd eyes belong'd To one who'd never lov'd me.
That was my love in face and shape, That was my love in pain; But something told me past escape That not by him I'd lain. I sat and star'd into the night, And still most dreadfully I saw those two eyes burning white That never had seen me!
vii
Upon a wild March morn My husband went to France; The day my child was born His word came to advance.
'Twas on that very day When my life should be crown'd, As I lay in, he lay Broken upon the ground.
For my loss there was gain, But his precious blood Was shed to earth like rain Within the shatter'd wood.
Missing, the paper said, But my heart said, Nay. Missing! My man had been dead Before he went away!
viii
It never throve from the first, Mother, she seem'd to fear it; But her words were the worst: "Nancy, you'll never rear it."
Yet he took to the breast And I knew the great end Of women, to give their best, To spend and to spend.
But his great eyes stared Till he seemed all eyes, And more than I dared Meet looks so wise.
Wondering and darkly blue, Pondering and slow, They would look you thro' and thro', Then tire and let you go,
And fall back to vacancy, As if the poor thing plain'd, "Why was I not let be, And what have I gain'd?"
'Twas more than I could bear, I pray'd that he might die; And God must have heard my prayer, For he went with a little sigh:
A flutter, a murmur, a sigh Lighter than dawn wind-- It was his soft Good-bye; And all my life lay behind.
I wonder if they were wise, Those three kings of the East Who offer'd gifts of price To the Child on a Girl's breast.
But if they were wise, their sons Have other counsel than they: The gifts they offer are guns, And the children's parents they slay.
ix
He went before my load was quicken'd, And I lay in alone. He was not there when baby sicken'd, Nor when it was gone. I walkt with Mother to the church, With Mother and Fan, My hard eyes ever on the search-- Pity me who can!
The grief was bad enough to bear, So dreadfully to wean it; But to go home and leave it there, And he had never seen it--! It was a thing to thank God for That home for me was none; I knew before we reacht the door That my home life was done.
x
Now limpt or dragg'd about our street The wounded men in blue, Trailing the feet which had been fleet, Or crutching one for two; Like ghosts of men past out of ken, Pale and uncertain-eyed, Whose gaze would flicker out, and then Come back with hasty pride.
What they had seen they never told, Nor what they had done: I saw young lads turn'd suddenly old; I saw the blind in the sun Look up to pray, as if the blue Was shapt like a cross: There came back one my husband knew, Spoke kindly of my loss.
He told me how my love was dead; He was not the first! Broadcast our land the word of dread Told women the worst. They say, let love and light be given So we keep Liberty; But I say there is no more Heaven If men must so be free.
xi
Can it be own'd that kings were crown'd, Consecrate to such evil? God-appointed, by God anointed Only to play the devil! Their men to bind of the tiger kind, To bind and then to goad, Blundering, slavering, hot and blind, On murder's hollow road?
If kings are so, then let all go-- Let my dear love cast down His lovely life, so we lay low The last to wear a crown. I'll look upon the steadfast stars, Patient and true and wise, And read in them the end of wars, As in my dead love's eyes.
O Lord of Life, for whom this earth Should image back Thy thought, Wherein the mystery of birth In Love like Thine be wrought, If pity stands with Thy commands, Grant a short breathing-space Ere men hold up their bloody hands Before Thy awful face.
Note