Part 1

_'TWIXT EARTH AND STARS._

'TWIXT EARTH AND STARS [Illustration]

POEMS

BY

MARGUERITE RADCLYFFE-HALL

JOHN AND EDWARD BUMPUS LTD. 350 OXFORD STREET, LONDON, W.

MCMVI

DEDICATED TO MY INSPIRATION

I know that through the waves of air, Some part of all I feel for you, Must surely travel swift and true, Towards the heart for which I care So dumbly, and before it lay The words my lips shall never say.

IN A GARDEN

In the garden a thousand roses, A vine of jessamine flower, Sweetpeas in coquettish poses, Sweetbrier with its fragrant dower.

There are hollyhocks tall and slender, And marigolds gay and fair, And sunflowers in glowing splendour, Geraniums rich and rare;

And the wee, white, innocent daisy, Half hidden amid the lawn; A bee grown drowsy and lazy— On honey he's drunk since dawn—

Is reposing with wings extended On some soft, passionate rose, Aglow with a blush more splendid Than ever a fair cheek knows.

While a thrush, in the ivy swinging That clusters over the gate, Athrob with the spring is singing, And ardently calls his mate.

For the spirit of all sweet odours The soul of a June unborn Has hallowed my humble garden, And whispered to me since dawn.

And the flowers in a prayer of rapture, Bent low to that spell divine, Are wafting their sweetest incense In clouds, at his sunlit shrine.

IF YOU WERE A ROSE AND I WERE THE SUN

(_Song_)

If you were a Rose and I were the Sun What then, little girl, what then? I'd kiss you awake when day had begun, My sweet little girl, what then? I'd waken you out of your valley of dreams And open your heart with my passionate beams, 'Till you lifted your face to my ruddiest gleams, My own little girl, yes then.

If you were the Earth and I were the Dew, What then, little girl, what then? Why surely the thing all lovers would do, My sweet little girl, what then? I'd steal through the twilight, o'er valley and lea, And flood you with kisses, both tender and free 'Till the soul in you throbbed with the love that's in me, My own little girl, yes then.

But I am a man and you are a maid, What then, little girl, what then? You're cold in your pride, and I am afraid, My sweet little girl, what then? If you cannot love me and I cannot die There's nothing in life but the ghost of a sigh, And the day growing dark 'neath a colourless sky; My own little girl, yes then.

DRIFTING

It is sweet to lie in a boat, And drift with the languid stream, With body and soul afloat The lake of a perfect dream.

It is sweet in the afternoon, With just the breath of a breeze, If the time be the month of June And the birds sing low in the trees.

And the mind has a pleasant thought, And the heart has a fond desire, And the soul is a tissue wrought Of youth, and it's golden fire.

And the limbs are both clean and strong, And able to rest with joy, And our time in the world is long, With nothing that can destroy

The rapture of God's green earth, The throb and the ecstasy That springs into life with birth, And lives through eternity.

TO ——

Dear heart! I was going away, Could you not have spared me an hour Of all your bountiful day? No moment, no word, no flower To keep; not even a tear? My soul was so thirsty, dear!

LOVE TRIUMPHANT

Ere the first grief was born Love was. And after griefs are gone Love still shall triumph on. Ere the first grief was born Love was.

In Eden grief became Love's slave. For in the dust and woe Lost Adam still could know Fond recompense, and so Did grief become Love's slave.

MY ROSE

A Rose! but what can it say, So tender, and sweet, and dumb; What part of my love convey, What thrill of the joys to come?

I send it, but how shall you, Dear heart, ever understand That rapturous tear of dew, It drops on your strong white hand?

Or know that my lips have pressed Those petals until they blush, Or feel that my heart has blessed The flower that your touch may crush?

IF ONLY

Oh! if one could only learn not to care, To be utterly indifferent storm or fair; And to say there's always pain With the joy, I don't complain, For the sunshine draws the rain Everywhere.

Oh! if one could only learn not to feel; To be absolutely callous, false or real; And to let the world go by, With a laugh to cap its sigh, With a jest to meet its lie, Cold as steel.

CONFESSION

Within the portals of thy shrine Before thy presence, dearest mine, I kneel, beseeching thee to bless My penitence, while I confess, And can a saint do any less?

If I have sinned as others do, All human hearts the wide world through Are erring things, and then with me My greatest wrong was loving thee, Wilt thou condemn my constancy?

Look down, dear heart, and let thine eyes Commend my soul to Paradise. He little sins, who sins in this That to obtain eternal bliss Seeks the communion of a kiss.

SUNLIGHT ON DISTANT HILLS

(Ledbury)

But a moment since and the sun was shining Over the hills that I see from my room. And now the rain and the mist come driving Out of the West, in a cloud of gloom. Over the woods, and meadows, and gardens, Hurries the storm like the hand of Doom.

But a moment hence and the clouds shall vanish; Breaking and drifting and all asunder. And lo! in their midst will the sky be lying Calm and blue with a peaceful wonder Nothing may alter, though sorrow and tempest Torture the Earth, as she trembles under.

MY LOVE

My love is a bird with a broken wing, Alone in a stormy night; My love is a lark that forgets to sing And dies with the morning light.

My love is a rose that the wind has torn, And crushed with a breath of pain; My love is song with the sweetness gone, A tune with a lost refrain.

My love is a ghost that has missed its way, A spirit from Heaven cast; My love is a joy of a bygone day, The soul of a burning past.

A MEMORY

No, I have not forgotten you, Although I went my way Unanswered, as you wished me to, With none to bid me stay.

For in my heart there is a space Whose door you closed to me, Locked in the memory of your face; Then took away the key.

TO ——

What you deny me, you gave; You cannot take it again In life and after the grave There is something that even then, Death will not kill or destroy, It is so with the hearts of men.

Even your pride cannot rob My life of its blessed past; You cannot recall one throb, One glance of the many cast From those dear, passionate eyes; These things will be mine to the last.

ON THE MOUNTAIN

Below and above, yes, over and under us, Swift clouds hover, and speed and fly; Nothing we see that can hurt or sunder us Here in the arms of the circling sky.

Surely we two must belong to each other, Silently mated where none are nigh Save God our Father, and Earth our Mother, And sweetest of all, dear,—You and I.

TO ——

When she turns aside to pass us by, With a little smile or a glance only We are all alone, my Heart and I, We are all alone, and very lonely.

THE PRAYER

There stood beside the road a shrine, In whose quaint, vaulted shadow smiled With eyes of tenderness divine, The Blessed Virgin and Her Child.

And I, who wandered all alone, Along a rough and weary way, Felt that a great desire had grown Within my heart, to kneel and pray.

But lo! my voice had lost the power To utter words so deep and sweet, And so, I breathed them in a flower, And left it, at the Virgin's feet.

IF

If all the words you spoke, dear, Were every one untrue, There can be nothing good, dear, In earth, or sun, or dew; And all the world's a lie, dear, Because of you.

If all the smiles you gave, dear, Were only to beguile, Why then there's nothing sweet, dear, In any human smile; And what we deem most fair, dear, Is only vile.

If every kiss that lingered Upon the lips you pressed, Was but an empty token, More fickle than the rest; I wish that I had died, dear, For death were best.

A LAMENT

Like a song that is sung, like a tale that is told, The life in me hushes the voice of its gladness; Youth walks by my side, but his hands have grown cold, And deep in his eyes lurks the shadow of sadness.

Alas! for the flowers that never come to me; Alas! for the morning again, now day closes; The joy of a love is as nothing, for through me There passes the deep-wounding thorn of the roses.

TO ——

The wind's on the hill, The sun's on the lea, The lark's on the wing And the dawn's on the sea, And the rapture that springeth of Love, is on me.

THOUGHTS

Ah! the kiss of the sweet night air, And the still, deep eyes of the cloudy skies, Grown dim with peace: Peace, the angel of death, that is everywhere.

Ah! the bliss of the soul at rest, And of eyes that weep growing calm in sleep, Hushéd by night: Night, the shadow of death, that in blessing is blessed.

SHIPS

Fair ships, happy and free, Smile on the lonely sea, Only to fade again Into the mist and rain. Ah! me.

Thus do bright hopes appear On life's vast ocean drear; Hopes that beguile the mind, And passing leave behind A tear.

THE DREAM-CHILD

There is a child who will come to me, Often at dusk, when my mind is free. She is the child that I used to be, When I was only nine.

Over her hair is a wreath of flowers, Those are the thoughts of the golden hours Spent in the glory of childhood's bowers, Fancy, those thoughts were mine!

Butterflies whiter than flakes of snow Hover around her lips, and oh! They are the prayers that I used to know, God may remember still.

God who they tell us will not forget Even a penitent child's regret! Now I am callous of prayers, and yet— Ah, how I hope that He will.

THE DAY

The day walks over the mountains, To the splash of a thousand fountains, To the song of a million streams. Her hair is unbound and flowing, Her eyes are as bluebells growing In a valley of shade and dreams.

Her breast, than the snow is whiter, Her lips, than the poppies brighter, Her limbs are as strong white fire. Thus she comes from the sky above her To the arms of the Earth her lover, In a splendour of warm desire.

FROM MY SOUL

Oh! but to find expression for the thoughts, So marvellous and yet so undefined, That flow from out the palpitating soul To consecrate the mind.

Oh! but to have the gift to put in words, That potent passion, that divine desire, That thrills the aching spirit with unrest And sets the brain on fire.

Oh! God, but once to rise above the flesh, To breathe our inmost thoughts in one vast sigh Of rapture. Oh! to realise ourselves, And at that moment ... die.

WE

We who are made Brave yet afraid, Happy yet sad, Good and yet bad, Sane and yet mad, What can we do?

Turmoil and strife, Passion and life, Love and desire, Can these inspire Spiritual fire? How can we live?

Stumbling feet, Tasks incomplete, Longings that kill Even the will, Left to fulfil, How can we die?

Little have we Bond and yet free, Strong and yet weak, Proud and yet meek, Save but to seek God in it all.

God with His hands Holds all the lands; Rules every sea, Sets the winds free, Counts every tree, Makes every leaf.

Then shall we fear? He placed us here. If God commands God understands, Ponders, and plans; Knowing it all.

TO SINGERS

Sing with your intellect and soul combined; Not all technique, nor yet all wild emotion, Thus shall you touch the heart and please the mind, Winning a real and merited devotion.

THE MAY TREE

A garden in the month of May, The fading of a golden day Upon the tulip flowers. An anthem sung by little birds, The sigh more eloquent than words Of earth to listening hours.

And shadows ... like the fringe that lies On cheek, at close of drowsy eyes, And paths, grown damp with dew; And secret places, where to tread Were to disturb the bridal bed Of creatures born anew.

And fairer than each living thing That stirs with longings of the Spring, A May tree, bearing flower. Like some young nymph the sunlight charms She stretches forth her slender arms, New decked with leafy dower.

While through her wondrous, living form The sap of life leaps strong and warm, Awaking from repose The folded buds to know the Spring, It seems I almost hear them sing For rapture as it flows.

Ay! and it seems as though my heart Strained upward, but to take some part In that sweet hymn of praise; As though my pulses quicker beat, To see perfection so complete Revealéd to my gaze.

As though the problem of unrest Were solved at last, in this behest To silently fulfil; And deeper still, my soul perceives The mighty Presence that conceives Such beauty at Its will.

PURGATORY

She said, "I want to live no matter what The penalty, give me on earth the lot I most desire. Let me drink deep of love, of joy, of life. Scatter the roses, let the wine run rife Dear Gods above, and then let fall the knife I will expire."

The Gods smiled sadly, very well they knew Her ardent spirit could ascend the blue, And force their will. Such weak old Deities these latter days Could but comply to her imperious ways. With woeful doubts they showed the flowery maze Of rapturous ill.

And she was happy: with that hot content That burns away the flesh, that ravishment Of youth grown bold. Until one morn the roses of her bed Were turned to nettles, all the joy was dead, The passion cold.

She cried, "Now let me die, to live a day Were Purgatory. See the awful way I gaze upon." The Gods were silent; powerless to avert The consequence, grown wearily inert. So—she lived on.

TO ——

The sound of the waves is the sound of tears, And the wind that drifts on the sea Is the restless ghost of the bygone years, With their pain and their ecstasy.

The far white ships with their shining sails Are the hopes of a faithful heart, Sent forth to fight through the storm and gales, With never a guiding chart.

And what of the pilot who stands above And steadfastly holds the wheel? Oh! he is the man who believed in love Before he forgot to feel.

A SPRING POSY

A spray of blossoms, and as well Some violets, gathered yesterday From leafy wood and shaded dell, Sweet children of a fruitful May; Dear minstrels of that silent lay More potent than an organ's swell.

And now they're withered! all the joy Has gone for ever, and the scent; Relentless fingers can alloy So much of nature's sentiment, So many strains of deep content, It takes so little to destroy.

AWAKENING

To open both your drowsy eyes, To stretch your limbs and realise That day is here. To watch the dancing, shifting beam Of sun, awake yet half in dream, Uncertain if the fitful gleam Be far or near.

To turn with soft, contented sigh, And through the window watch the sky, All opal blue. To feel the air steal in the room, Made fragrant by the soft perfume Of lime-trees, when their scented bloom Is damp with dew.

To hear the rustling voice of leaves, The chirp of birds beneath the eaves, But now awake. The tiny hum of timid things That fly with gauzy, fragile wings, Where yet the dusk to daylight clings, When mornings break.

To feel the soul look forth and smile, Contented with each fruitful mile That it beholds. To hear the heart beat loud and strong, In unison with Nature's song, That echoes tremulous and long While dawn unfolds.

To know yourself a thing complete, With strength of mind and limb replete, With vast desire; A creature made to dominate The lesser things of earth, a fate On whom the universe must wait, With force entire.

And then to cry in deep delight God made the world and made it right; Dear Heaven above! Was ere completeness so complete, Was ever sweetness half so sweet, Was ever loving half so meet; Thank God for love.

SHE IS DEAD

Well! She is dead and gone, God willed it so. Died ere her child was born, Ever to know.

Dead! oh, how still and cold! Yet full of rest. She was not very old Still, it was best.

Hush, chide her not, not now, Save by a tear, Dropped on that marble brow So smooth and dear.

Pity her as she lies There all alone; Tenderly close her eyes, Sorrowful grown.

Yes; she has sinned maybe, Willing to fall, Yet now forgive ... ah! see, Death atones all.

TO ——

Dear, if you were in this city, In this misty, dreary city, With its sombre walls and towers— All its poorer streets and byways, All its richer streets and highways, All the buildings stern and old, And the river deep and cold, Would become as summer to me, Decked with sweet, perfuming flowers.

THE WHOLE OF IT

A joy that passes, a pain that stays, Such is life. A moment's rapture, then weary days, Years of strife, Such is life.

A kiss of passion, a sigh of pain, Such is love. A flash of splendour, then night again, God above, Such is love!

A sudden blindness, a creeping fear, Such is death. An awful vastness, an unknown sphere, Choking breath, And then ... death.

A SONG

A cloud is over the sun, The wind is laden with rain, A frost has smitten the flowers; The time of Winter is pain.

But kiss me and I shall live, The sun shall nourish the plain, The dawn be happy with birds And love bring Summer again.

IF LIKE THE BIRD

If like the bird who sits and swings Upon a branch, and blithely sings, I could but spread two faithful wings,

And by their aid could smoothly skim The highest peaks, the summits dim, Until I reached the sunlight's rim,

Would I not then in pity gaze Upon the turmoil and the maze Of earth, and all its foolish ways?

A FRAGMENT

Chance made me look at you, Chance was no friend! Sight made me worship you, Time without end.

Had I been only blind What had I cared, And thus, afflicted sore How much been spared!

AN EVEN PSALM

With silent feet all wet with dew, Comes evening full of soft repose, To kiss the valley deep and blue, With wistful lips, and eyes that close.

Her breath is soft, and full of peace, Her arms outstretchéd to caress Fling benedictions without cease, She seems a spirit borne to bless.

And as the evening to the earth, Came love to me, a boon most rare; Hushed every sorrow at its birth, And turned complaining into prayer.

A BUTTERFLY

A butterfly hovered over a flower, In a bower, With the joy of life at his lips for an hour. With the rose's petals against his wings, And the rose's perfume that steals and clings Touching every breath with a wondrous power.

Then the Night came on, and the wind blew cold O'er the wold. The butterfly shivered, grown tired and old; The rose closed her passionate eyes and slept, While death to her lover in silence crept; He died of a joy untold.

DISAPPOINTMENT

How little there is that e'er goes right In this old world of ours. Anticipation? a vague delight; Reality? well, the rose with a blight, The thorn that comes with the flowers.

TO THE SEA

What can I sing to thee Oh! thrice-beloved sea? What words can paint thy grace, The beauty of thy face, Enrapt with ecstasy?

Fling up thy foamy arms, Laden with cooling balms, And touch me where I stand Here on the yearning land, With soft embrace that calms.

I gaze into thine eyes, Where mystic shadow lies, And lovelights glow and gleam Within their emerald beam, And passion lives and dies—

Until my heart grows still Beneath thy magic will, And I can hear and see Naught but thy song and thee, That seems the world to fill.

Upon thy swelling breast Restless and yet at rest, My spirit floats and sings, While Summer laughs and springs From off thy snow-white crest.

Behold my hot desire For thee to quench the fire, With dewy kiss that slips From thy divine, wet lips, Making my joy entire.

Lift up thine endless song, And echo it along Until all space rejoice, In thine enchanted voice, That sounds so sweet and strong.

Until the rocks and beach Break forth in answering speech, And every listening shell Some praise of thee can tell; Some joy of thee can teach.

Oh, sea that knows no death! Oh, life-inspiring breath! The heart of me would praise The glory of thy days, Thine evenings, fathomless.

The soul in me would sing To that eternal Spring Beneath thy heaving breast, Where lurk the depths of rest, The end of everything.

AFTER ALL?

The gladness and the pain, The sunshine and the rain, The laughter and the sigh, They all must pass and die; And in the by-and-by, Who'll care to question why?

YOU

You have my thoughts and know it not. The livelong day I think of you, The still, dark night I dream of you, Each moment's life I live to you, And yet you know it not.

You have my heart and know it not, Its every beat is love for you, Each sigh a drop of blood for you, Its ceaseless ache regret for you, And yet you know it not.

You have my soul and know it not, It makes you God and worships you, Forgets its claim on Heaven for you, Forsakes its hope of life for you, And yet—you know it not.

REMEMBER

Remember, sweet! some evening when you sit With idle hands, and book but half read through; When those dear eyes of yours find incomplete The landscape deep in shade and wet with dew; When that clear mind of yours goes wandering out To seek contentment, ay, and finds no rest; When those grave thoughts of yours are filled with doubt, And vague mistrust of all the world deems best; Remember!—for one hour we conquered fate; Filled in the blanks and set the puzzle right; We were complete, a glorious, living whole, A perfect cadence of supreme delight— I think eternity was ours that night.

AN ECHO

In passion's hour I met you, And now that from my soul I'm old, Whene'er I watch the pale young moon, Or misty glow of sunset gold, Some echo of the past comes back, Like wild, sweet song o'er lonely track Lest I should e'er forget you.

FLOWER LOVE