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The Collected Poems of WILLIAM H. DAVIES
SOME NEW BORZOI BOOKS
TALES OF THE PAMPAS
By IV. H. Hudson A DRAKE BY GEORGE!
By John Trevena MUSIC AND BAD MANNERS
By Carl Van V edit en JOURNALISM VERSUS ART
By Max Eastman POINTED ROOFS
By Dorothy Richardson SUSSEX GORSE
By Sheila Kaye-Smith THE CRUSHED FLOWER
By Leonid Andreyev THE BROWN MARE
By Alfred Ollivant WAR: A PLAY
By Michael Artzibashef MOLOCH : A PLAY
By Beulah Marie Dix " MORAL " : A PLAY
By Ludwig Thorn a THE INSPECTOR-GENERAL
By Nicolay Gogol
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The Collected Poems of WILLIAM H. DAVIES
With a portrait by William Rothenstein
New York • Alfred A. Knopf • Mcmxvi
COPYRIGHT, 1916, BY WILLIAM H. DAVIES
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
357975
CONTENTS
TITLE
Thunderstorms from
Songs of Joy "
The Moon "
The Rain "
Laughing Rose "
Infancy "
Leisure "
The Visitor "
The Kingfisher "
The Inexpressible .... "
Charms "
Autumn "
This Night "
In May "
Days too short "
The Sleepers "
Child Lovers "
Sweet Stay-at-Home . . "
The Elements "
Come, thou sweet Won- der "
A Maiden and her hair "
Day's Black Star "
The Example "
The Ox "
The Two Children ... "
The Mind's Liberty ... "
The Battle "
SOURCE PAGE
Foliage " ii
' Songs of Joy " 12
' The Bird of Paradise " 14
Nature Poems" 15
Foliage " 16
Bird of Paradise " . . . . 17
' Songs of Joy " 18
Child Lovers " 19
Farewell to Poesy "... 20
Child Lovers" 21
" " 22
The Soul's Destroyer " 24
Child Lovers " 25
Songs of Joy " 26
28
29
Child Lovers " 31
Foliage" 33
Songs of Joy " 35
Child Lovers " 37
Nature Poems" 38
40
Songs of Joy " 41
New Poems " 42
Child Lovers " 44
Bird of Paradise " . . . . 45
Nature Poems " 46
CONTENTS
TITLE The Lonely Dreamer . The East in Gold .... A Mother to her sick
Child
The Happy Child .... To Sparrows fighting. . The White Cascade . . .
Nell Barnes
In the Country
Nature's Friend
The Flood
Christ the Man
Dreams of the Sea ....
A Great Time
Man
Truly Great
The Sluggard
When on a Summer's
Morn from
Farewell to Poesy . . .
Early Morn
Robin Redbreast
A Lovely Woman . . .
Friends
The Laughers
The Boy
The Dark Hour
Jenny Wren
Kitty and I
A Drinking Song ....
Money
Sadness and Joy
Fancy's Home
Happy Wind
Sleep
SOURCE PAGE
Foliage " 47
Songs of Joy " 48
Child Lovers" 49
Songs of Joy " 50
51
Child Lovers " 52
Bird of Paradise " . . . . 53
' Farewell to Poesy " . . 55
Nature Poems " 57
' Songs of Joy " 59
60
Foliage " 61
Bird of Paradise " . . . . 63
Songs of Joy " 64
Nature Poems " 66
Farewell to Poesy" .. 68
' Bird of Paradise "... 69
Farewell to Poesy "' . . 70
Nature Poems" 71
72
73
■ Child Lovers " 75
' Nature Poems " 77
79
'Farewell to Poesv " .. 81
83
Child Lovers" 85
Soul's Destroyer " 87
Nature Poems " 89
' Songs of Joy" 91
93
' Farewell to Poesy " . . 94
Soul's Destroyer " . . . . 95
CONTENTS
TITLE
When I am old "
Joy and Pleasure "
The Heap of Rags ... "
The Hawk "
The Weeping Child .. "
Seeking Beauty "
Margery "
A Greeting "
The Hermit "
The Bird-Man "
Sheep "
The Idiot and the Child "
Starers "
Plants and Men "
The One Singer "
Lines from " The Soul's
Destroyer " "
April's Charms "
The Call of the Sea . . "
Her Absence "
The Dreaming Boy ... "
Whom I know "
The Power of Music . "
The Muse "
The Owl "
My Lady Comes "
The Daisy "
Fairies, take Care .... "
A Blind Child "
Thou comest, May ... "
The Best Friend "
Rich Days "
" The Ways of Time " from
The Bird of Paradise . "
This World "
SOURCE PAGE
" Bird of Paradise "... 97
" Nature Poems " 98
" Songs of Joy " 100
"Bird of Paradise" ... 102
103
" Songs of Joy " 104
" New Poems " 106
'Foliage" 107
"Bird of Paradise" .. 108
' Foliage " 109
' Songs of Joy" 110
'Farewell to Poesy" .. 113
'Bird of Paradise" ... 113
"4
' Child Lovers " 115
' Soul's Destroyer " 116
' Child Lovers " 117
'Farewell to Poesy" .. 118
'Bird of Paradise" ... 120
" " 121
' Foliage " 123
' Songs of Joy" 124
' Nature Poems" 126
' Songs of Joy " 127
' Child Lovers " 128
■ Nature Poems " 129
' Songs of Joy " 131
' New Poems " 133
' Child Lovers " 135
Bird of Paradise" ... 136
137
New Poems" 138
Bird of Paradise" ... 139
141
CONTENTS
TITLE
A Woman's Charms.. The Lodging-house fire
Body and Spirit
Catharine
Strong Moments
The Little Ones
Night Wanderers
Love's Coming
Where we differ
Parted
The Blind Boxer
Now
Clouds
The Posts
No Master
Rich or Poor
The Sea
A Life's Love
Sweet Child
Death's Game
April Boys and Girls..
Newcomers
Sweet Youth
A Plain Life
Heaven
Ale
The Likeness
A Fleeting Passion . . . .
The Child and the
Mariner
SOURCE PACE
" Foliage" 142
" Soul's Destroyer " .... 144
" Child Lovers " 148
"New Poems" 150
" Foliage " 152
"Songs of Joy" 153
" Foliage " 155
" Soul's Destroyer " .... 156
" Nature Poems " 158
" New Poems " 159
Manuscript 160
"Farewell to Poesy" .. 162
164
" Songs of Joy" 166
"Farewell to Poesy" .. 167
" Songs of Joy " 168
" Nature Poems " 169
171
"Bird of Paradise" ... 172
"Farewell to Poesy" .. 173
Manuscript 174
" New Poems " 175
" Nature Poems " 177
Manuscript 178
"Bird of Paradise" ... 179
" New Poems " 180
Songs of Joy" 184
10
ERRATA POEMS
Rain. Last line but one should end with a colon.
The Inexpressible. Divide as three verses of 4 lines each.
Antutnn. 2nd and 3rd lines should be set in, as they rhyme.
Lonely Dreamer. 2nd line of 2nd verse should begin "Those," not
"Their." In the Country. 3rd line ist verse delete comma after "woman," and
alter semicolon after "care" to comma. 4th line delete comma
after "man." , When on a Siimmers Morn. 4th line of ist verse, alter full stop to
semicolon. Early Morn. Last line but three, alter " ships " to " ship." Sleep. i6th line, alter "my" to "a." ("And in a lady's bower.") Seeking Beauty. Last line, use small "d " for " Distress." Starers. Last line to read: "That try to stare like the big moon." The Call of the Sea. i8th line to read: "Men of one voyage, when
they spend." Thou contest May. Last line but one, add comma after " homes." Lodging House Fire. 2nd line of fifth verse, to begin " Six hours."
" " " Last line nth verse, delete comma at end.
Body and Spirit. 3rd line 2nd verse " their" should be, "there." Loves Coming, ist line last verse alter to " I do not know," not
" Is not my say." Clouds. 3rd line 3rd verse, delete comma after "small." Rich or Poor. 3rd line ist verse should end "crowns" not "crown." A Fleeting Passion. Even lines should be set in throughout, as they
rhyme. Child and Mariner. 2nd line should read "things" not "thing." " " " 60th line, "Rose" should read "grown."
THUNDERSTORMS
MY mind has thunderstorms, That brood for heavy hours: Until they rain me words;
My thoughts are drooping flowers And sulking, silent birds.
Yet come, dark thunderstorms. And brood your heavy hours;
For when you rain me words.
My thoughts are dancing flowers
And joyful singing birds.
SONGS OF JOY
SING out, my Soul, thy songs of joy; Such as a happy bird will sing Beneath a Rainbow's lovely arch In early spring.
Think not of Death in thy young days ;
Why shouldst thou that grim tyrant fear ? And fear him not when thou art old,
And he is near.
Strive not for gold, for greedy fools
Measure themselves by poor men never;
Their standard still being richer men. Makes them poor ever.
Train up thy mind to feel content,
What matters then how low thy store?
What we enjoy, and not possess. Makes rich or poor. 12
SONGS OF JOY
Filled with sweet thought, then happy I Take not my state from other's eyes;
What's in my mind — not on my flesh Or theirs — I prize.
Sing, happy Soul, thy songs of joy;
Such as a Brook sings in the wood. That all night has been strengthened by
Heaven's purer flood.
13
THE MOON
THY beauty haunts me heart and soul, O thou fair IVIoon, so close and bright : Thy beauty makes me like the child,
That cries aloud to own thy light: The little child that lifts each arm, To press thee to her bosom warm..
Though there are birds that sing this night With thy white beams across their throats,
Let my deep silence speak for me
More than for them their sweetest notes:
Who worships thee till music fails,
Is greater than thy nightingales.
u
THE RAIN
T HEAR leaves drinking Rain;
•■■ I hear rich leaves on top Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop; 'Tis a sweet noise to hear These green leaves drinking near.
And when the Sun comes out, After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright; ,'
'Twill be a lovely sight.
15
LAUGHING ROSE
T F I were gusty April now, ■*■ How I would blow at laughing Rose ; I'd make her ribbons slip their knots, And all her hair come loose.
If I were merry April now.
How I would pelt her cheeks with showers; I'd make carnations, rich and warm,
Of her vermilion flowers.
Since she will laugh in April's face. No matter how he rains or blows —
Then O that I wild April were, To play with laughing Rose.
i6
INFANCY
T3 ORN to the world with my hands clenched, ■*-' I wept and shut my eyes ; Into my mouth a breast was forced,
To stop my bitter cries. I did not know — nor cared to know —
A woman from a man ; Until I saw a sudden light.
And all my joys began.
From that great hour my hands went forth,
And I began to prove That many a thing my two eyes saw
My hands had power to move : My fingers now began to work,
And all my toes likewise ; And reaching out with fingers stretched,
I laughed, with open eyes.
17
w
LEISURE
HAT is this life if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.
No time to stand beneath the boughs And stare as long as sheep or cows.
No time to see, when woods we pass. Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.
No time to see, in broad daylight, Streams full of stars, like stars at night.
No time to turn at Beauty's glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began.
A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare. i8
THE VISITOR
SHE brings that breath, and music too, That comes when April's days begin And sweetness Autumn never had In any bursting skin.
She's big with laughter at the breasts,
Like netted fish they leap: Oh God, that I were far from here.
Or lying fast asleep!
19
THE KINGFISHER
IT was the Rainbow gave thee birth, And left thee all her lovely hues; And, as her mother's name was Tears,
So runs it in thy blood to choose For haunts the lonely pools, and keep In company with trees that weep.
Go you and, with such glorious hues, Live with proud Peacocks in green parks ;
On lawns as smooth as shining glass, Let every feather show its mark ;
Get thee on boughs and clap thy wings
Before the windows of proud kings.
Nay, lovely Bird, thou art not vain;
Thou hast no proud ambitious mind ; I also love a quiet place
That's green, away from all mankind ; A lonely pool, and let a tree Sigh with her bosom over me. 20
THE INEXPRESSIBLE
npHINKING of my caged birds indoors, -■• My books, whose music serves my will Which, when I bid them sing, will sing. And when I sing myself are still;
And that my scent is drops of ink, Which, were my song as great as I
Would sweeten man till he was dust. And make the world one Araby;
Thinking how my hot passions make
Strong floods of shallows that run cold -
Oh how I burn to make my dreams
Lighten and thunder through the world.
CHARMS
SHE walks as lightly as the fly Skates on the water in July.
To hear her moving petticoat, For me is music's highest note.
Stones are not heard, when her feet pass, No more than tumps of moss or grass.
When she sits still, she's like the flower To be a butterfly next hour.
The brook laughs not more sweet, when he Trips over pebbles suddenly.
My Love, like him, can whisper low — When he comes where green cresses grow.
She rises like the lark, that hour He goes halfway to meet a shower. 22
CHARMS
A fresher drink is in her looks Than Nature gives me, or old books.
When I in my Love's shadow sit, I do not miss the sun one bit.
When she is near, my arms can hold All that's w^orth having in this world.
And when I know not where she is, Nothing can come but comes amiss.
23
AUTUMN
AUTUMN grows old: he, like some simple one, In Summer's castaway is strangely clad ; Such withered things the winds in frolic mad Shake from his feeble hand and forehead wan.
Autumn is sighing for his early gold. And in his tremble dropping his remains; The brook talks more, as one bereft of brains, Who singeth loud, delirious with the cold.
0 now with drowsy June one hour to be ! Scarce waking strength to hear the hum of bees, Ot cattle lowing under shady trees,
Knee deep in waters loitering to the sea.
1 would that drowsy June awhile were here. The amorous South wind carrying all the vale — Save that white lily true to star as pale. Whose secret day-dream Phoebus burns to hear.
THIS NIGHT
' I ''HIS night, as I sit here alone,
•*• And brood on what is dead and gone, The owl that's in this Highgate Wood, Has found his fellow in my mood ; To every star, as it doth rise — Oh-o-o ! Oh-o-o ! he shivering cries.
And, looking at the Moon this night. There's that dark shadow in her light. Ah ! Life and Death, my fairest -one. Thy lover is a skeleton! " And why is that? " I question — " why? " Oh-o-o! Oh-o-o! the owl doth cry.
25
IN MAY
YES, I will spend the livelong day With Nature in this month of May ; i And sit beneath the trees, and share \My bread with birds whose homes are there; While cows lie down to eat, and sheep Stand to their necks in grass so deep ; While birds do sing with all their might, As though they felt the earth in flight. This is the hour I dreamed of, when I sat surrounded by poor men; And thought of how the Arab sat Alone at evening, gazing at The stars that bubbled in clear skies;
And of young dreamers, when their eyes Enjoyed methought a precious boon In the adventures of the Moon Whose light, behind the Clouds' dark bars. Searched for her stolen flocks of stars. When I, hemmed in by wrecks of men, Thought of some lonely cottage then, 26
IN MAY
Full of sweet books; and miles of sea, With passing ships, in front of me ; And having, on the other hand, A flowery, green, bird-singing land.
27
DAYS TOO SHORT
WHEN Primroses are out in Spring And small, blue violets come between ; When merry birds sing on boughs green, And rills, as soon as born, must sing;
When butterflies will make side-leaps, As though escaped from Nature's hand Ere perfect quite; and bees will stand
Upon their heads in fragrant deeps;
When small clouds are so silver}^ white Each seems a broken rimmed moon — When such things are, this world too soon.
For me, doth wear the veil of Night.
28
THE SLEEPERS
AS I walked down the waterside This silent morning, wet and dark Before the cocks in farmyards crowed,
Before the dogs began to bark; Before the hour of five was struck By old Westminster's mighty clock:
As I walked down the waterside This morning, in the cold damp air,
I saw a hundred women and men Huddled in rags and sleeping there:
These people have no work, thought I,
And long before their time they die.
That moment, on the waterside, A lighted car came at a bound ;
I looked inside, and saw a score
Of pale and weary men that frowned;
Each man sat in a huddled heap,
Carried to work while fast asleep.
29
THE SLEEPERS
Ten cars rushed down the waterside, Like lighted coffins in the dark ;
With twenty dead men in each car, That must be brought alive by work:
These people work too hard, thought I,
And long before their time they die.
30
CHILD LOVERS
SIX summers old was she, and when she came Her head was in an everlasting flame; The golden fire it licked her neck and face, But left no mark of soot in any place.
When this young thing had seen her lover boy, She threw her arms around his neck for joy; Then, paired like hazel nuts, those two were seen To make their way towards the meadows green.
Now, to a field they came at last, which was So full of buttercups they hid the grass; 'Twas fit for kings to meet, and councils hold — You never saw so fine a cloth of gold.
Then in a while they to a green park came, A captain owned it, and they knew his name; And what think you those happy children saw? The big, black horse that once was in a war. 31
CHILD LOVERS
Now soon she tied her lover with some string, And laughed, and danced around him in a ring; He, like a flower that gossamer has tied, Stood standing quiet there, and full of pride.
Lord, how she laughed! Her golden ringlets shook As fast as lambs' tails, when those youngsters suck ; Sweeter than that enchantress laughed, when she Shut Merlin fast forever in a tree.
As they went home, that little boy began: " Love me and, when I'm a big sailor-man, I'll bring you home more coral, silk, and gold, Than twenty-five four-funnelled ships could hold.
" And fifty coffins carried to their grave, Will not have half the lilies you shall have: Now say at once that you will be my love — And have a pearl ten stallions could not move."
32
SWEET STAY-AT-HOME
SWEET Stay-at-Home, sweet Well-content, Thou knowest of no strange continent: Thou hast not felt thy bosom keep A gentle motion with the deep ; Thou hast not sailed in Indian seas, Where scent comes forth in every breeze. Thou hast not seen the rich grape grow For miles, as far as eyes can go; Thou hast not seen a summer's night When maids could sew by a worm's light; Nor the North Sea in spring send out Bright hues that like birds flit about In solid cages of white ice — Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. Thou hast not seen black fingers pick White cotton when the bloom is thick. Nor heard black throats in harmony; Nor hast thou sat on stones that lie Flat on the earth, that once did rise To hide proud kings from common eyes, Thou hast not seen plains full of bloom 33
SWEET STAY-AT-HOME
Where green things had such little room They pleased the eye like fairer flowers — Sweet Stay-at-Home, all these long hours. Sweet Well-content, sweet Love-one-place, Sweet, simple maid, bless thy dear face; For thou hast made more homely stuff Nurture thy gentle self enough ; I love thee for a heart that's kind — Not for the know^ledge in thy mind.
34
THE ELEMENTS
NO house of stone Was built for me; When the Sun shines — I am a bee.
No sooner comes The Rain so warm,
I come to light — I am a worm.
When the Winds blow,
I do not strip, But set my sails —
I am a ship.
When Lightning comes, It plays with me
And I with it — I am a tree. 35
rilE ELEMENTS
When drowned men rise At Thunder's word,
Sings Nightingale — I am a bird.
36
COME, THOU SWEET WONDER
COME, thou sweet Wonder, by whose power We more or less enjoy our years; That mak'st a child forget the breast,
And dri'st at once the children's tears, Till sleep shall bring their minds more rest.
Come to my heavy rain of care,
And make it weigh like dew ; charm me
With Beauty's hair, her eyes or lips; With mountain dawn, or sunset sea
That's like a thousand burning ships.
37
A MAIDEN AND HER HAIR
HER cruel hands go in and out, Like two pale woodmen working there, To make a nut-brown thicket clear — The full, wild foliage of her hair.
Her hands now work far up the North, Then, fearing for the South's extreme,
They into her dark waves of hair
Dive down so quick — it seems a dream.
They're in the light again with speed, Tossing the loose hair to and fro.
Until, like tamed snakes, the coils Lie on her bosom in a row.
For wise inspection, up and down One coil her busy hands now run;
To screw and twist, to turn and shape, And here and there to work like one. 38
A MAIDEN AND HER HAIR
And now those white hands, still like one,
Are working at the perilous end; Where they must knot those nut-brown coils,
Which will hold fast, though still they'll bend.
Sometimes one hand must fetch strange tools,
The other then must work alone; But when more instruments are brought,
They both make up the time that's gone.
Now that her hair is bound secure,
Coil top of coil, in smaller space. Ah, now I see how smooth her brow,
And her simplicity of face.
39
DAY'S BLACK STAR
IS it that small black star, Twinkling in broad daylight, Upon the bosom of
Yon cloud so white — Is it that small black thing Makes earth and all' Heaven ring!
Sing, you black star; and soar
Until, alas! too soon You fall to earth in one
Long singing swoon; But you will rise again To heaven, from this green plain.
Sing, sing, sweet star; though black, Your company's more bright
Than any star that shines With a w-hite light;
Sing, Skylark, sing; and give
To me thy joy to live.
THE EXAMPLE
HERE'S an example from A Butterfly; That on a rough, hard rock
Happy can He; Friendless and all alone On this unsweetened stone.
Now let my bed be hard,
No care take I ; I'll make my joy like this
Small Butterfly; Whose happy heart has power To make a stone a flower.
41
/ THE OX
WHY should I pause, poor beast, to praise Thy back so red, thy sides so white ; And on thy brow those curls in which \Thy mournful eyes take no delight?
I dare not make fast friends with kine, Nor sheep, nor fowl that cannot fly;
For they live not for Nature's voice, Since 'tis man's will when they must die.
So, if I call thee some pet name. And give thee of my care to-day,
Where wilt thou be to-morrow morn, When I turn curious eyes thy way?
Nay, I'll not miss what I'll not find, And I'll find no fond cares for thee;
So take away those great sad eyes That stare across yon fence at me. 42
THE OX
See you that Robin, by himself,
Perched on that leafless apple branch,
His breast like one red apple left — The last and best of all — by chance?
If I do but give heed to him. He will come daily to my door;
And 'tis the will of God, not Man, When Robin Redbreast comes no more.
43
THE TWO CHILDREN
4 4 AH, little boy! I see
^^ You have a wooden spade. Into this sand you dig
So deep — for what? " I said. " There's more rich gold," said he,
" Down under where I stand, Than twenty elephants
Could move across the land."
"Ah, little girl with wool! —
What are you making now?" " Some stockings for a bird,
To keep his legs from snow." And there those children are,
So happy, small, and proud: The boy that digs his grave.
The girl that knits her shroud.
44
THE MIND'S LIBERTY
THE mind, with its own eyes and ears, May for these others have no care ; No matter where this body is.
The mind is free to go elsewhere. My mind can be a sailor, when
This body's still confined to land; And turn these mortals into trees,
That walk in Fleet Street or the Strand.
So, when I'm passing Charing Cross,
Where porters work both night and day, I ofttimes hear sweet Malpas Brook,
That flows thrice fifty miles away. And when I'm passing near St. Paul's,
I see, beyond the dome and crowd, Tom Barium, that green pap in Gwent,
With its dark nipple in a cloud.
45
THE BATTLE
THERE was a battle in her face, Between a Lily and a Rose : My love would have the Lily win And I the Lily lose.
I saw with joy that strife, first one, And then the other uppermost;
Until the Rose roused all its blood, And then the Lily lost.
When she's alone, the Lily rules, By her consent, without mistake:
But when I come that red Rose leaps To battle for my sake.
46
THE LONELY DREAMER
HE lives his lonely life, and when he dies A thousand hearts maybe will utter sighs ; Because they liked his songs, and now their bird Sleeps with his head beneath his wing, unheard.
But what kind hand will tend his grave, and bring Their blossoms there, of which he used to sing? Who'll kiss his mound, and wish the time would come To lie with him inside that silent tomb?
And who'll forget the dreamer's skill, and shed A tear because a loving heart is dead? Heigh ho for gossip then, and common sighs — And let his death bring tears to no one's eyes.
47
THE EAST LN GOLD
SOMEHOW this world is wonderful at times, As it has been from early morn in May ; Since first I heard the cock-a-doodle-do,
Time keeper on green farms — at break of day.
Soon after that I heard ten thousand birds, Which made me think an angel brought a bin
Of golden grain, and none was scattered yet — To rouse those birds to make that merry din.
I could not sleep again, for such wild cries. And went out early into their green world ;
And then I saw what set their little tongues
To scream for joy — they saw the East in gold.
48
A MOTHER TO HER SICK CHILD
THOU canst not understand my words No love for me was meant: The smile that lately crossed thy face Was but an accident.
The music's thine, but mine the tears
That make thy lullaby ; To-day I'll rock thee into sleep,
To-morrow thou must die.
And when our babies sleep their last,
Like aged dames or men, They need not mother's lullaby,
Nor any rocking then.
49
THE HAPPY CHILD
I SAW this day sweet flowers grow thick. But not one like the child did pick.
I heard the packhounds in green park — But no dog like the child heard bark.
I heard this day bird after bird — But not one like the child has heard.
A hundred butterflies saw I — But not one like the child saw fly.
I saw the horses roll in grass —
But no horse like the child saw pass.
My world this day has lovely been — But not like what the child has seen.
50
TO SPARROWS FIGHTING
STOP, feathered bullies! Peace, angry birds; You common Sparrows that,
For a few words, Roll fighting in wet mud. To shed each other's blood.
Look at those Linnets, they
Like ladies sing; See how those Swallows, too.
Play on the wing; All other birds close by Are gentle, clean and shy.
And yet maybe your life's
As sweet as theirs; The common poor that fight
Live not for years In one long frozen state Of anger, like the great. 51
w
THE WHITE CASCADE
HAT happy mortal sees that mountain now, The white cascade that's shining on its brow:
The white cascade that's both a bird and star, That has a ten mile voice and shines as far?
Though I may never leave this land again, Yet every spring my mind must cross the main
To hear and see that water-bird and star That on the mountain sings, and shines so far.
52
NELL BARNES
THEY lived apart for three long years, Bill Barnes and Nell his wife; He took his joy from other girls, She led a wicked life.
Yet ofttimes she would pass his shop. With some strange man awhile ;
And, looking, meet her husband's frown With her malicious smile.
Until one day, when passing there.
She saw her man had gone; And when she saw the empty shop,
She fell down with a moan.
And when she heard that he had gone
Five thousand miles away; And that she'd see his face no more,
She sickened from that day. 53
NELL BARNES
To see his face was health and life,
And when it was denied, She could not eat, and broke her heart
It was for love she died.
54
IN THE COUNTRY
THIS life is sweetest; in this wood I hear no children cry for food; I see no woman, white with care; No man, with muscles w-asting here.
No doubt it is a selfish thing To fly from human suffering; No doubt he is a selfish man, Who shuns poor creatures sad and wan.
But 'tis a wretched life to face Hunger in almost every place; Cursed with a hand that's empty, when The heart is full to help all men.
Can I admire the statue great, When living men starve at its feet! Can I admire the park's green tree, A roof for homeless misery! 55
IN THE COUNTRY
When I can see few men in need, I then have power to help by deed, Nor lose my cheerfulness in pity — Which I must do in every city.
For when I am in those great places, I see ten thousand suffering faces; Before me stares a wolfish eye, Behind mc creeps a groan or sigh.
56
NATURE'S FRIEND
SAY what you like, All things love me! I pick no flowers — That wins the Bee.
The Summer's Moths Think my hand one —
To touch their wings — With Wind and Sun.
The garden Mouse Comes near to play;
Indeed, he turns His eyes away.
The Wren knows well
I rob no nest; When I look in.
She still will rest. 57
NATURE'S FRIEND
The hedge stops Cows, Or they would come
After my voice
Right to my home.
The Horse can tell, Straight from my lip.
My hand could not Hold any whip.
Say what you like, All things love me!
Horse, Cow, and Mouse, Bird, Moth and Bee.
58
THE FLOOD
I THOUGHT my true love slept: Behind her chair I crept And pulled out a long pin ; The golden flood came out, She shook it all about, With both our faces in.
Ah ! little wren, I know Your mossy, small nest now
A windy, cold place is; No eye can see my face, Howe'er it watch the place
Where I half drown in bliss.
When I am drowned half dead, She laughs and shakes her head;
Flogged by her hair-waves, I Withdraw my face from there; But never once, I swear,
She heard a mercy-cry. 59
CHRIST THE MAN
LORD, I say nothing; I profess No faith in Thee nor Christ Thy Son: Yet no man ever heard me mock A true believing one.
If knowledge is not great enough
To give a man believing power, Lord, he must wait in Thy great hand
Till revelation's hour.
Meanwhile he'll follow Christ the man,
In that humanity he taught, Which to the poor and the oppressed,
Gives its best time and thought.
60
DREAMS OF THE SEA
I KNOW not why I yearn for thee again, To sail once more upon thy fickle flood ; I'll hear thy waves wash under my death-bed, Thy salt is lodged forever in my blood.
Yet I have seen thee lash the vessel's sides
In fury, with thy many tailed whip ; And I have seen thee, too, like Galilee,
When Jesus walked in peace to Sim.on's ship.
And I have seen thy gentle breeze as soft
As summer's, when it makes the cornfields run ;
And I have seen thy rude and lusty gale
Make ships show half their bellies to the sun.
Thou knowest the way to tame the wildest life, Thou knowest the way to bend the great and proud
I think of that Armada whose puffed sails.
Greedy and large, came swallowing every cloud. 6i
DREAMS OF THE SEA
But I have seen the sea-boj', young and drowned, Lying on shore and, by thy cruel hand,
A seaweed beard was on his tender chin.
His heaven-blue eyes were filled with common sand.
And yet, for all, I yearn for thee again, To sail once more upon thy fickle flood ;
I'll hear thy waves wash under my death-bed, Thy salt is lodged forever in my blood.
62
A GREAT TIME
SWEET Chance, that led my steps abroad, Beyond the town, where wild flowers grow ■ A rainbow and a cuckoo, Lord,
How rich and great the times are now! Know, all ye sheep And cows, that keep On staring that I stand so long
In grass that's wet from heavy rain — A rainbow and a cuckoo's song May never come together again ; May never come This side the tomb.
63
MAN
I SAW Time running by — Stop, Thief, was all the cry. I heard a voice say, Peace ! Let this vain clamour cease. Can ye bring lightning back That leaves upon its track Men, horses, oak trees dead? Canst bring back Time? it said. There's nothing in Man's mind Can catch Time up behind ; In front of that fast Thief There's no one — end this grief. Tut, what is Man? How frail! A grain, a little nail, The wind, a change of cloth — A fly can give him death. Some fishes in the sea Are born to outlive thee, And owls, and toads, and trees — And is Man more than these? I see Man's face in all 64
MJN
Things, be they great or small;
I see the face of him
In things that fly or swim ;
One fate for all, I see — r
Whatever that may be.
Imagination fits
Life to a day ; though its
Length were a thousand years,
'Twould not decrease our fears;
What strikes men cold and dumb
Is that Death's time must come.
65
TRULY GREAT
MY walls outside must have some flowers, My walls within must have some books; A house that's small ; a garden large, And in it leafy nooks.
A little gold that's sure each week;
That comes not from my living kind, But from a dead man in his grave,
Who cannot change his mind.
A lovely wife, and gentle too;
Contented that no eyes but mine Can see her many charms, nor voice
To call her beauty fine.
Where she would in that stone cage live,
A self-made prisoner, with me; While many a wild bird sang around.
On gate, on bush, on tree. 66
TRULY GREAT
And she sometimes to answer them, In her far sweeter voice than all ;
Till birds, that loved to look on leaves, Will doat on a stone wall.
With this small house, this garden large. This little gold, this lovely mate,
With health in body, peace at heart — Show me a man more great.
67
THE SLUGGARD
AJAR of cider and my pipe, In summer, under shadj- tree; A book of one that made his mind
Live by its sweet simplicity: Then must I laugh at kings who sit
In richest chambers, signing scrolls; And princes cheered in public ways, And stared at by a thousand fools.
Let me be free to wear my dreams,
Like weeds in some mad maiden's hair, When she believes the earth has not
Another maid so rich and fair; And proudly smiles on rich and poor,
The queen of all fair women then : So I, dressed in my idle dreams.
Will think myself the king of men.
WHEN ON A SUMMER'S MORN
WHEN on a summer's morn I wake, And open my two eyes, Out to the clear, born-singing rills My bird-like spirit flies.
To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush,
Or any bird in song; And common leaves that hum all day.
Without a throat or tongue.
And when Time strikes the hour for sleep.
Back in my room alone. My heart has many a sweet bird's song —
And one that's all my own.
69
FAREWELL TO POESY
SWEET Poesy, why art thou dumb! I loved thee as my captive bird, That sang me songs when spring was gone,
And birds of freedom were not heard ;
Nor dreamt thou wouldst turn false and cold
When needed most, by men grown old.
Sweet Poesy, why art thou dumb!
I fear thy singing days are done; The poet in my soul is dying,
And every charm in life is gone ; In vain birds scold and flowers do plead —
The poet dies, his heart doth bleed.
70
EARLY MORN
WHEN I did wake this morn from sleep, It seemed I heard birds in a dream; Then I arose to take the air —
The lovely air that made birds scream ; Just as a green hill launched the ship Of gold, to take its first clear dip.
And it began its journey then,
As I came forth to take the air; The timid Stars had vanished quite.
The Moon was dying with a stare ; Horses, and kine, and sheep were seen As still as pictures, in fields green.
It seemed as though I had surprised And trespassed in a golden world
That should have passed while men still slept! The joyful birds, the ships of gold.
The horses, kine and sheep did seem
As they would vanish for a dream. 71
ROBIN REDBREAST
ROBIN on a leafless bough, Lord in Heaven, how he sings! Now cold Winter's cruel Wind
Makes playmates of withered things.
How he sings for joy this morn !
How his breast doth pant and glow! Look you how he stands and sings,
Half-way up his legs in snow!
If these crumbs of bread were pearls, And I had no bread at home,
He should have them for that song; Pretty Robin Redbreast, Come.
72
A LOVELY WOMAN
NOW I can see what Helen was: Men cannot see this woman pass And be not stirred ; as Summer's Breeze Sets leaves in battle on the trees. A woman moving gracefully, With golden hair enough for three, Which, mercifully! is not loose, But lies in coils to her head close; With lovely eyes, so dark and blue. So deep, so warm, they burn me through. I see men follow her, as though Their homes were where her steps should go. She seemed as sent to our cold race For fear the beauty of her face Made Paradise in flames like Troy — I could have gazed all day with joy. In fancy I could see her stand Before a savage, fighting band, And make them, with her words and looks, Exchange their spears for shepherd's crooks, And sing to sheep in quiet nooks; 73
A LOVELY WOMAN
In fancy saw her beauty make
A thousand gentle priests uptake
Arms for her sake, and shed men's blood.
The fairest piece of womanhood,
Lovely in feature, form and grace,
I ever saw, in any place.
74
FRIENDS
THEY'RE creeping on the stairs outside, They're whispering soft and low; Now up, now down, I hear his friends. And still they come and go.
The sweat that runs my side, from that
Hot pit beneath my shoulder. Is not so cold as he will be,
Before the night's much older.
My fire I feed with naked hands.
No sound shall reach their ears; I'm moving like the careful cat.
That stalks a rat it fears.
And as his friends still come and go,
A thoughtful head is mine: Had Life as many friends as Death,
Lord, how this world would shine! 75
FRIENDS
And since I'll have so many friends, When on my death-bed lying —
I wish my life had more love now, And less when I am dying.
76
THE LAUGHERS
MARY and Maud have met at the door, Oh, now for a din; I told you so: They're laughing at once with sweet, round mouths, Laughing for what? does any one know?
Is it known to the bird in the cage,
That he shrieks for joy his high top notes,
After a silence so long and grave —
What started at once those two sweet throats?
Is it known to the Wind that he takes Advantage at once and comes right in ?
Is it known to the cock in the yard,
That crows — the cause of that merry din ?
Is it known to the babe that he shouts?
Is it known to the old, purring cat? Is it known to the dog, that he barks
For joy — what Mary and Maud laugh at? 77
THE LAUGHERS
Is it known to themselves? It is not, But beware of their great shining eyes;
For Mary and Maud will soon, I swear. Find a cause to make far merrier cries.
78
THE BOY
GO, little boy, Fill thee with joy For Time gives thee Unlicensed hours,
To run in fields, And roll in flowers.
A little boy Can life enjoy;
If but to see The horses pass,
When shut indoors Behind the glass.
Go, little boy, Fill thee with joy ;
Fear not, like man, The kick of wrath.
That you do lie
In some one's path.
79
THE BOY
Time is to thee Eternity,
As to a bird Or butterfly;
And in that faith True joy doth lie.
80
THE DARK HOUR
AND now, when merry winds do blow, And rain makes trees look fresh. An overpowering staleness holds This mortal flesh.
Though well I love to feel the rain, And be by winds well blown —
The mystery of mortal life Doth press me down.
And, in this mood, come now what will.
Shine Rainbow, Cuckoo call; There is no thing in Heaven or Earth
Can lift my soul.
I know not where this state comes from-
No cause for grief I know; The Earth around is fresh and green.
Flowers near me grow. 8i
THE DARK HOUR
I sit between two fair Rose trees;
Red roses on my right, And on my left side roses are
A lovely white.
The little birds are full of joy,
Lambs bleating all the day; The colt runs after the old mare,
And children play.
And still there comes this dark, dark hour
Which is not born of Care; Into my heart it creeps before
I am aware.
82
JENNY WREN
TTER sight is short, she comes quite near; -'-■■■ A foot to me's a mile to her ; And she is known as Jenny Wren, The smallest bird in England. When I heard that little bird at first, Methought her frame would surely burst With earnest song. Oft had I seen Her running under leaves so green, Or in the grass when fresh and wet, As though her wings she would forget. And, seeing this, I said to her — " My pretty runner, you prefer To be a thing to run unheard Through leaves and grass, and not a bird ! " 'Twas then she burst, to prove me wrong. Into a sudden storm of song; So very loud and earnest, I Feared she would break her heart and die. " Nay, nay," I laughed, " be you no thing To run unheard, sweet scold, but sing ! 83
JENNY WREN
O I could hear your voice near me, Above the din in that oak tree, When almost all the twigs on top Had starlings chattering without stop.
84
KITTY AND I
THE gentle wind that waves The green boughs here and there, Is showing how my hand Waved Kitty's finer hair.
The Bee, when all his joints
Are clinging to a Blossom, Is showing how I clung
To Kitty's softer bosom.
The Rill, when his sweet voice
Is hushed by water-cresses. Is Kitty's sweeter voice
Subdued by my long kisses.
Those little stars that shine
So happy in the skies, Are those sweet babes I saw.
Whose heaven was Kitty's eyes. 85
KITTY AND I
The Moon, that casts her beam Upon the hill's dark crest,
Is Kitty's whiter arm Across my hairy breast.
The hazel nuts, when paired Unseen beneath the boughs,
Are Kitty and myself,
Whenever Chance allows.
86
A DRINKING SONG
A BEE goes mumbling homeward pleased, He has not slaved away his hours; He's drunken with a thousand healths Of love and kind regard for flowers. Pour out the wine, His joy be mine.
Forgetful of affairs at home, He has sipped oft and merrily; Forgetful of his duty — Oh ! What can he say to his queen bee ? He says in wine, " Boo to her shrine! "
The coward dog that wags his tail, And rubs the nose with mangy curs, And fearful says, " Come play, not fight," Knows not the draught to drown his fears; Knows not the wine, The ruby shine.
87
J DRINKISG SOXG
Poor beggar, breathless in yon barn, Who fears a mouse to move thy straw, Must Conscience pester thee all night, And fear oppress with thoughts of law ? O dearth of wine. No sleep is thine.
Is Bacchus not the god of gods,
Who gives to Beauty's cheeks their shine ?
O Love, thou art a wingless worm ;
Wouldst thou be winged, fill thee with wine;
Fill thee with wine,
And wings be thine.
Then, Bacchus, rule thy merr>' race. And laws like thine who would not keep? And when fools weep to hear us laugh. We'll laugh, ha! ha! to see them weep. O god of wine, My soul be thine.
MONEY
WHEN I had money, money, O! I knew no joy till I went poor; For many a false man as a friend Came knocking all day at my door.
Then felt I like a child that holds A trumpet that he must not blow
Because a man is dead ; I dared
Not speak to let this false world know.
Much have I thought of life, and seen How poor men's hearts are ever light;
And how their wives do hum like bees About their work from morn till night.
So, when I hear these poor ones laugh, And see the rich ones coldly frown —
Poor men, think I, need not go up
So much as rich men should come down. 89
MONEY
When I had money, money, O!
My many friends proved all untrue; But now I have no money, O !
My friends are real, though very few.
90
SADNESS AND JOY
I PRAY you, Sadness, leave me soon. In sweet invention thou art poor! Thy sister, Joy, can make ten songs While thou art making four.
One hour with thee is sweet enough ;
But when we find the whole day gone And no created thing is left —
We mourn the evil done.
Thou art too slow to shape thy thoughts In stone, on canvas, or in song;
But Joy, being full of active heat, Must do some deed ere long.
Thy sighs are gentle, sweet thy tears ;
But if thou canst not help a man To prove in substance what he feels —
Then give me Joy, who can. 91
SADNESS AND JOY
Therefore, sweet Sadness, leave me soon, Let thy bright sister, Joy, come more ;
For she can make ten lovely songs While thou art making four.
92
FANCY'S HOME
TELL me, Fancy, sweetest child. Of thy parents and thy birth Had they silk, and had they gold,
And a park to wander forth, With a castle green and old ?
In a cottage I was born,
My kind father was Content,
My dear mother Innocence ; On wild fruits of wonderment
I have nourished ever since.
93
HAPPY WIND
OH, happy wind, how sweet Thy life must be! The great, proud fields of gold
Run after thee: And here are flowers, with heads
To nod and shake; And dreaming butterflies
To tease and wake. Oh, happy wind, I say, To be alive this day.
94
SLEEP
LIFE'S angel half, sweet Sleep, When, like the mermaid, thou In all thy loveliness Dost rise from out the deep Where Life is foul to see — Men wake to scheme and sin, But thou dost keep them pure In that sweet hour with thee.
The flower upon the hill, Where caves and crags and peaks Carry the thunder on After the heavens are still, Kjiows thee : as that cared flower Within some sheltering wood, And houses built by men, And in my lady's bower.
If Age hath followed Truth, A conscience clean and pure Is unto him as is Sweet Innocence to Youth; 95
SLEEP
But Age and Innocence Dost thou, sweet Sleep, reward: Thou givest rest to both, To both art recompense.
Yet thou hast awful power When thou art lying still And breathing quietly! Was it not such an hour Dark Murder slunk away, Fearing thy innocence More than the watchfulness Of men in armed array ?
Thou makest War to cease Awhile, and armies pause; And in the midst of strife Thou bringest them to peace; The tyrant must delay The cruel deed at thy command; Oppressed ones know thy balm Can take their fears away.
96
WHEN I AM OLD
\ II THEN I am old, and it is spring, V V And joy leaps dancing, wild and free, Clear out of every living thing,
While I command no ecstasy; And to translate the songs of birds Will be beyond my power in words:
When time serves notice on my Muse To leave at last her lyric home.
With no extension of her lease — Then to the blackest pits I come.
To see by day the star's cold light,
And in my coffin sleep at night.
For when these little songs shall fail. These happy notes that to the world
Are puny mole-hills, nothing more. That unto me are Alps of gold —
That toad's dark life must be my own,
Buried alive inside a stone, 97
JOY AND PLEASURE
"VTOW, Joy is born of parents poor, -^ ^ And Pleasure of our richer kind ; Though Pleasure's free, she cannot sing As sweet a song as Joy confined.
Pleasure's a Moth, that sleeps by day And dances by false glare at night;
But Joy's a Butterfly, that loves
To spread its wings in Nature's light.
Joy's like a Bee that gently sucks Away on blossoms its sweet hour;
But Pleasure's like a greedy Wasp,
That plums and cherries would devour.
Joy's like a Lark that lives alone.
Whose tics are very strong, though few ;
But Pleasure like a Cuckoo roams,
Makes much acquaintance, no friends true. 98
JOY AND PLEASURE
Joy from her heart doth sing at home,
With little care if others hear; But Pleasure then is cold and dumb,
And sings and laughs with strangers near.
99
THE HEAP OF RAGS
ONE night when I went down Thames' side, in London Town, A heap of rags saw I, And sat me down close by. That thing could shout and bawl, But showed no face at all ; When any steamer passed And blew a loud shrill blast, That heap of rags would sit And make a sound like it ; When struck the clock's deep bell, It made those peals as well. When winds did moan around, It mocked them with that sound ; When all was quiet, it Fell into a strange fit; Would sigh, and moan and roar. It laughed, and blessed, and swore. Yet that poor thing, I know, Had neither friend nor foe; Its blessing or its curse Made no one better or worse.
100
THE HEAP OF RAGS
I left it in that place — The thing that showed no face, Was it a man that had Suffered till he went mad? So many showers and not One rainbow in the lot; Too many bitter fears To make a pearl from tears.
THE HAWK
THOU dost not fly, thou art not perched, The air is all around: What is it that can keep thee set,
From falling to the ground? The concentration of thy mind
Supports thee in the air ; As thou dost watch the small young birds, With such a deadly care.
My mind has such a hawk as thou.
It is an evil mood ; It comes when there's no cause for grief,
And on my joys doth brood. Then do I see my life in parts;
The earth receives my bones, The common air absorbs my mind —
It knows not flowers from stones.
1 02
THE WEEPING CHILD
WHAT makes thee weep so, little child, What cause hast thou for all this grief ? When thou art old much cause may be, And tears will bring thee no relief.
Thou dost not know thy mother yet, Thou'dst sleep on any bosom near;
Thou dost not see a daughter dying, No son is coughing in thy ear.
Thy father is a bearded man.
Yet any bearded man could take
Thee in his arms, and thou not know
Which man would die for thy sweet sake.
What makes thee weep then, little child, What cause hast thou for all this bother;
Whose father could be any man, And any woman be thy mother?
103
SEEKING BEAU«rY
COLD winds can never freeze, nor thunder sour The cup of cheer that Beauty draws for me Out of those azure Heavens and this green earth — I drink and drink, and thirst the more I see.
To see the dewdrops thrill the blades of grass, Makes my whole body shake; for here's my choice
Of either sun or shade, and both are green — A Chaffinch laughs in his melodious voice.
The banks are stormed by Speedwell, that blue flower So like a little Heaven with one star out ;
I see an amber lake of Buttercups,
And Hawthorn foams the hedges round about.
The old Oak tree looks now so green and young, That even Swallows perch awhile and sing:
This is that time of j^ear, so sweet and warm, When Bats wait not for Stars ere they take wing. 104
SEEKING BEAUTY
As long as I love Beauty I am young,
Am young or old as I love more or less;
When Beauty is not heeded or seems stale, My life's a cheat, let Death end my distress.
105
MARGERY
THE Butterfly loves IMignonette, And every moment deeper sips; When Winds do shake him by his wings,
He fastens tighter with his lips; So let the whole world make me shake, I will not from my true love break.
The bird is perched alone and sings, Not all the rain can make him stop;
In sooth he singeth more, as though He'd sing one note for each rain-drop;
So, like that bird, to his heart true,
I'll sing through showers that wet me through.
A thousand trees to every house,
A singing bird in every tree; And in the midst of these she dwells.
And lives for me — doth Margery; Where we can take our sweet love's fill Shut in a garden green and still. 1 06
A GREETING
GOOD morning, Life — and all Things glad and beautiful. My pockets nothing hold, But he that owns the gold, The Sun, is my great friend — His spending has no end.
Hail to the morning sky.
Which bright clouds measure high;
Hail to you birds whose throats
Would number leaves by notes;
Hail to you shady bowers,
And you green fields of flowers.
Hail to you women fair, That make a show so rare In cloth as white as milk — Be't calico or silk: Good morning. Life — and all Things glad and beautiful. 107
THE HERMIT
WHAT moves that lonely man is not the boom Of waves that break against the cliff so strong; Nor roar of thunder, when that travelling voice Is caught by rocks that carry far along.
'Tis not the groan of oak tree in its prime,
When lightning strikes its solid heart to dust;
Nor frozen pond when, melted by the sun, It suddenly doth break its sparkling crust.
What moves that man is when the blind bat taps His window when he sits alone at night;
Or when the small bird sounds like some great beast Among the dead, dry leaves so frail and light.
Or when the moths on his night-pillow beat
Such heavy blows he fears they'll break his bones;
Or when a mouse inside the papered walls.
Comes like a tiger crunching through the stones. I08
THE BIRD-MAN
MAN is a bird: He rises on fine wings Into the heaven's clear light; He flies away and sings — There's music in his flight.
Man is a bird:
In swiftest speed he burns, With twist and dive and leap;
A bird whose sudden turns Can drive the frightened sheep.
Man is a bird:
Over the mountain high, Whose head is in the skies,
Cut from its shoulder by A cloud — the bird-man flies.
Man is a bird:
Eagles from mountain crag Swooped down to prove his worth;
But now they rise to drag Him down from Heaven to earth! 109
SHEEP
WHEN I was once in Baltimore, A man came up to me and cried, " Come, I have eighteen hundred sheep. And we will sail on Tuesday's tide.
"If you will sail with me, young man, I'll pay you fifty shillings down;
These eighteen hundred sheep I take From Baltimore to Glasgow town."
He paid me fifty shillings down,
I sailed with eighteen hundred sheep;
We soon had cleared the harbour's mouth, We soon were in the salt sea deep.
The first night we were out at sea Those sheep were quiet in their mind;
The second night they cried with fear — They smelt no pastures in the wind.
110
SHEEP
They sniffed, poor things, for their green fields, They cried so loud I could not sleep:
For fifty thousand shillings down I would not sail again with sheep.
THE IDIOT AND THE CHILD
THERE was a house where an old dame Lived with a son, his child and wife; And with a son of fifty years, An idiot all his life.
When others wept this idiot laughed.
When others laughed he then would weep ;
The married pair took oath his eyes Did never close in sleep.
Death came that way, and which think you Fell under that old tyrant's spell?
He breathed upon that little child, Who loved her life so well.
This made the idiot chuckle hard:
The old dame looked at that child dead
And him she loved — " Ah, well ; thank God It is no worse ! " she said. 112
STARERS
THE small birds peck at apples ripe, And twice as big as them in size; The wind doth make the hedge's leaves
Shiver with joy, until it dies. Young Gossamer is in the field ;
He holds the flowers with silver line — They nod their heads as horses should.
And there are forty dappled kine As fat as snails in deep, dark wells,
And just as shiny too — as they Lie in a green field, motionless.
And every one now stares my way. I must become a starer too:
I stare at them as urchins can When seamen talk, or any child
That sees by chance its first black man. I stare at drops of rain that shine
Like glowworms, when the time is noon; I stare at little stars in Heaven,
That like to stare like the big Moon.
13
PLANTS AND MEN
YOU berries once, In early hours, Were pretty buds, And then fair flowers.
Drop, drop at once,
Your life is done; You cannot feel
The dew or sun.
We are the same.
First buds, then flowers; Hard berries then,
In our last hours.
Sweet buds, fair flowers, Hard berries then —
Such is the life
Of plants and men.
114
THE ONE SINGER
Tn\EAD leaves from off the tree -*-^ Make whirlpools on the ground: Like dogs that chase their tails,
Those leaves go round and round; Like birds unfledged and young,
The old bare branches cry; Branches that shake and bend
To feel the winds go by.
No other sound is heard,
Save from those boughs so bare — Hark! who sings that one song?
'Tis Robin sings so rare. How sweet! like those sad tunes
In homes where grief's not known ; Or that a blind girl sings
When she is left alone.
15
LINES FROM "THE SOUL'S DESTROYER
WE went together side by side to school, Together had our holidajs in fields Made golden by June's buttercups ; in woods, Where under ferns fresh pulled I buried her, And called her forth like Lazarus from the grave; She'd laughing come, to shake her curls until Methought to hear full half a hundred bells. A grown-up world took playful notice soon, Made me feel shame that grew a greater love; She was more chary of her laughter then. And more subdued her voice, as soft and sweet As Autumn's, blowing through his golden reeds. In her sweet sympathies she was a woman When scarcely she was more than child in years; And yet one angry moment parted us. And days of longing never joined us more.
i6
APRIL'S CHARMS
WHEN April scatters coins of primrose gold Among the copper leaves in thickets old, And singing skylarks from the meadows rise, To twinkle like black stars in sunny skies;
When I can hear the small woodpecker ring Time on a tree for all the birds that sing; \
And hear the pleasant cuckoo, loud and long — \
The simple bird that thinks two notes a song;
When I can hear the woodland brook, that could Not drown a babe, with all his threatening mood ; Upon whose banks the violets make their home. And let a few smiall strawberry blossoms come:
When I go forth on such a pleasant day. One breath outdoors takes all my care away; It goes like heavy smoke, when flames take hold Of wood that's green and fill a grate with gold.
117
THE CALL OF THE SEA
GONE are the days of canvas sails! No more great sailors tell their tales In country taverns, barter pearls For kisses from strange little girls; And u'hen the landlord's merry daughter Heard their rough jokes and shrieked with laughter, They threw a muffler of rare fur That hid her neck from ear to ear. Ho, ho ! my merry men ; they know Where gold is plentiful — Sail ho ! How they did love the rude wild Sea! The rude, unflattering Sea; for he Will not lie down for monarch's yacht. No more than merchant's barge; he'll not Keep graves with marks of wood or stone For fish or fowl, or human bone. The Sea is loth to lose a friend ; Men of one voyage, who have spent Six months with him, hear his vexed cry Haunting their houses till they die. ii8
THE CALL OF THE SEA
And for the sake of him they let
The winds blow them, and raindrops wet
Their foreheads with fresh water sprays —
Thinking of his wild, salty days.
And well they love to saunter near
A river, and its motion hear;
And see ships lying in calm beds,
That danced upon seas' living heads ;
And in their dreams they hear again
Men's voices in a hurricane —
Like ghosts complaining that their graves
Are moved by sacrilegious waves.
And well they love to stand and hear
The old seafaring men that fear
Land more than water; carts and trains
More than wild waves and hurricanes.
And they will walk with love and pride
The tattooed mariner beside —
Chains, anchors on his arm, and ships —
And listen to his bearded lips.
Ay, they will hear the Sea's vexed cry
Haunting their houses till they die.
119
HER ABSENCE
HOW rich hath Time become through her, His sands are turned to purest gold! And yet it grieves my heart full sore
To see them slipping from my hold. How precious now each moment is,
Which I must cast like ash away ! My only hope and comfort this —
Each moment will return that day, On that blest day, that joyful hour W^hen she lies willing in my power.
Nay, these rich moments are not lost,
But, like the morning's dewdrops, which Into the sun their brief lives cast,
To make his body far more rich — So do these precious moments glide
Into her being, where they store; Until I clasp her as my bride.
And get them back with thousands more ; Where they have banked in her dear breast, And saved themselves with interest.
120
THE DREAMING BOY
SWEET are thy dreams, thou happy, careless hoy Thou know'st the taste of immortality; No weary limbs can rest upon thy heart ; Sleep has no care to ease thee of at night ; The same move shuts together eye and mind. And in the morning one move opens both. Life lies before thee, hardly stepped on yet, Like a green prairie, fresh, and full of flowers. Life lies before thee for experiment, Until old age comes, whose sad eyes can trace A better path he missed, with fairer flowers. Which other men have walked in misery. Thou hast no knowledge of a life of toil, How hard Necessity destroys our dreams, And castles in the air must pay him tithes So heavy that no tenant keeps them long. To thee the world is still unknown and strange; Still full of wild romance, as in those da3^s Ere England launched her forests on the sea. Thou wilt discover in far mountain caves Deserted, lamps left burning for thy feet,
121
THE DREAMING BOY
And comfort in them more than kings are worth.
Ay, many a gate will open at thy call,
And wise men will come forth to welcome thee,
And bells will ring for pleasure in thy ear.
Great monsters in dark woods, with mighty mouths
That swallow their own faces when they yawn.
And mountain bears that carry on their backs
Rough, shaggy coats whose price compares with silk -
Will fall by thy strong, right, all-conquering arm.
And who can stop thee; who can turn thee back?
Not giants, though they stand full twenty feet,
And sit too tall for common men to stand.
Oh, that sweet magic in thee, happy boy!
It makes a golden world for all things young.
Thou with an iron ring, a piece of bone,
A rusty blade, or half a yard of rope,
Art richer than a man with mines and ships.
The child's fresh mind makes honey out of soot.
Sweeter than age can make on banks of flowers;
He needs but cross a bridge, that happy boy.
And he can breathe the air of a new world.
Sweet children, with your trust in this hard life -
Like little birds that ope their mouths for food
From hands that come to cage them till they die.
WHOM I KNOW
I DO not know his grace the Duke, Outside whose gilded gate there died Of want a feeble, poor old man, With but his shadow at his side.
I do not know his Lady fair, Who in a bath of milk doth lie;
More milk than could feed fifty babes. That for the want of it must die.
But well I know the mother poor,
Three pounds of flesh wrapped in her shawl ; A puny babe that, stripped at home.
Looks like a rabbit skinned, so small.
And well I know the homeless waif,
Fed by the poorest of the poor; Since I have seen that child alone.
Crying against a bolted door.
123
THE POWER OF MUSIC
O THOSE sweet notes, so soft and faint; that seemed Locked up inside a thick-walled house of stone ; And then that sudden rush of sound, as though The doors and windows were wide-open thrown.
Do with me, O sweet music, as thou wilt, I am thy slave to either laugh or weep ;
Thy power can make thy slave a lover proud, Or friendless man that has no place to sleep.
I hear thy gentle whisper and again
Hear ripples lap the quays of sheltered docks; I hear thy thunder and it brings to mind
Dark Colorado scaling his huge rocks.
I hear thy joyous cries and think of birds Delirious when the sun doth rise in May;
I hear thy moans and think me of poor cows That miss at night the calves they licked by day. 124
THE POWER OF MUSIC
I hear thee wail and think of that sad queen Who saw her lover's disappearing mast;
How she, who drank and wasted a rich pearl — To prove her love — was left to wail at last.
Do with me, O sweet Music, as thou wilt;
Till even thou art robbed by jealous Sleep Of those sweet senses thou hast forced from me-
And I can neither laugh with thee nor weep.
125
THE MUSE
I HAVE no ale, No wine I u ant ; No ornaments,
My meat is scant.
No maid is near, I have no wife;
But here's my pipe And, on my life:
With it to smoke, And woo the Muse,
To be a king
I would not choose.
But I crave all.
When she does fail - Wife, ornaments,
Meat, wine and ale.
[26
THE OWL
THE boding Owl, that in despair Doth moan and shiver on warm nights- Shall that bird prophesy for me
The fall of Heaven's eternal lights?
When in the thistled field of Age
I take my final walk on earth Still will I make that Owl's despair
A thing to fill my heart with mirth.
127
MY LADY COMES
PEACE, mournful Bee, with that Man's deep voice from the grave; My Lady comes, and Flowers
Make all their colours wave; And joyful shivers seize The hedges, grass and trees.
My Lady comes, and Leaves Above her head clap hands;
The Cow stares o'er the field,
Up straight the Horse now stands;
Under her loving eyes
Flowers change to Butterflies.
The Grass comes running up
To kiss her coming feet; Then cease your grumble. Bee,
When I my Lady meet; And Arch, let not your stones Turn our soft sighs to groans. 128
THE DAISY
I KNOW not why thy beauty should Remind me of the cold, dark grave — Thou Flower, as fair as Moonlight, when She kissed the mouth of a black Cave.
All other Flowers can coax the Bees, All other Flowers are sought but thee:
Dost thou remind them all of Death, Sweet Flower, as thou remindest me?
Thou seemest like a blessed ghost.
So white, so cold, though crowned with gold Among these glazed Buttercups,
And purple Thistles, rough and bold.
When I am dead, nor thought of more. And gone from human memory —
Grow you on my forsaken grave. And win for me a stranger's sigh. 129
THE DAISY
A day or two the lilies fade;
A month, ay less, no friends are seen: Then, claimant to forgotten graves,
Share my lost place with the wild green.
130
FAIRIES, TAKE CARE
A THOUSAND blessings, Puck, on you For knotting that long grass which threw Into my arms a maid ; for we Have told our love and kissed, and she Will lie a-bed in a sweet fright. So, all ye Fairies who to-night May take that stormy passage where Her bosom's quicksands are, take care Of whirlpools too : beware all you Of that great tempest Love must brew. The waves will rock your breath near out; First sunk, then tossed and rolled about. Now on your heads, now on your feet — You'll be near swamped and, for life sweet, Be glad to cross that stormy main. And stand on something firm again. Would I could see her while she sleeps. And smiles to feel you climb those steeps, Where }'ou at last will stand up clear Upon their cherry tops, and cheer. And that ye are not lost, take care. In that deep forest of her hair: 131
FAIRIES, TAKE CARE
Yet ye may enter naked stark,
It gets more warm as it gets dark.
So, Fairies, fear not any harm,
While in those woods so dark and warm.
132
A BLIND CHILD
HER baby brother laughed last night, The blind child asked her mother why; It was the light that caught his eye. Would she might laugh to see that light!
The presence of a stiffened corse Is sad enough ; but, to my mind. The presence of a child that's blind,
In a green garden, is far worse.
She felt my cloth — for worldly place ;
She felt my face — if I was good;
My face lost more than half its blood, For fear her hand would wrongly trace.
We're in the garden, where are bees And flowers, and birds, and butterflies; One greedy fledgling runs and cries
For all the food his parent sees! 133
A BLIND CHILD
I see them all : flowers of all kind, The sheep and cattle on the leas; The houses up the hills, the trees -
But I am dumb, for she is blind.
134
THOU COMEST, MAY
THOU comest, May, with leaves and flowers, And nights grow short, and days grow long; And for thy sake in bush and tree,
The small birds sing, both old and young; And only I am dumb and wait The passing of a fish-like state.
You birds, you old grandfathers now.
That have such power to welcome spring,
I, but a father in my years.
Have nothing in my mind to sing;
My lips, like gills in deep-sea homes
Beat time, and still no music comes.
135
THE BEST FRIEND
NOW shall I walk Or shall I ride? "Ride," Pleasure said; " Walk," Joy replied.
Now what shall I —
Stay home or roam ? " Roam," Pleasure said ;
And Joy — "stay home."
Now shall I dance,
Or sit for dreams? " Sit," answers Joy;
" Dance," Pleasure screams.
Which of ye two
Will kindest be? Pleasure laughed sweet,
But Joy kissed me.
136
RICH DAYS
WELCOME to you rich Autumn days, Ere comes the cold, leaf-picking wind ; When golden stocks are seen in fields,
All standing arm-in-arm entwined ; And gallons of sweet cider seen On trees in apples red and green.
With mellow pears that cheat our teeth, Which melt that tongues may suck them in ;
With blue-black damsons, jtIIow plums, Now sweet and soft from stone to skin;
And woodnuts rich, to make us go
Into the loneliest lanes we know.
137
THE WAYS OF TIME
AS butterflies are but winged flowers, Half sorry for their change, who fain, So still and long they lie on leaves, Would be thought flowers again
E'en so my thoughts, that should expand, And grow to higher themes above,
Return like butterflies to lie On the old things I love.
138
THE BIRD OF PARADISE
HERE comes Kate Summers who, for gold, Takes any man to bed: "You knew my friend, Nell Barnes," said she; "You knew Nell Barnes — she's dead.
" Neil Barnes was bad on all you men.
Unclean, a thief as well; Yet all my life I have not found
A better friend than Nell.
" So I sat at her side at last.
For hours, till she was dead ; And yet she had no sense at all
Of any word I said.
" For all her cry but came to this — 'Not for the world! Take care:
Don't touch that bird of paradise. Perched on the bed-post there ! ' 139
THE BIRD OF PARADISE
" I asked her would she like some grapes, Some damsons ripe and sweet ;
A custard made with new-laid eggs, Or tender fowl to eat.
" I promised I would follow her,
To see her in her grave ; And buy a wreath with borrowed pence,
If nothing I could save.
" Yet still her cry but came to this — * Not for the world ! Take care:
Don't touch that bird of paradise, Perched on the bed-post there ! ' "
140
THIS WORLD
WHO dreams a sweeter life than this, To stand and stare, when at this fence, Back into those dumb creatures' eyes.
And think we have their innocence — Our looks as open as the skies.
Lambs with their legs and noses black, Whose woolly necks, so soft and white,
Can take away the children's breath ;
Who'd strangle them in their delight —
And calves they'd worry half to death.
This world's too full of those dull men Who ne'er advance from that first state
Which opens mouths before the eye ;
Who, when they think of dumb things, rate
Them by the body's gluttony.
141
A WOMAN'S CHARMS
MY purse is yours, Sweet Heart, for I Can count no coins with you close by; I scorn like sailors them, when they Have drawn on shore their deep-sea pay; Only my thoughts I value now. Which, like the simple glow-worms, throw Their beams to greet thee bravely. Love — Their glorious light in Heaven above. Since I have felt thy waves of light, Beating against my soul, the sight Of gems from Africa's continent Move me to no great wonderment. Since I, Sweet Heart, have known thine hair. The fur of ermine, sable, bear, Or silver fox, for me can keep No more to praise than common sheep. Though ten Isaiahs' souls were mine, They could not sing such charms as thine. Two little hands that show with pride. Two timid, little feet that hide; Two eyes no dark Senoras show Their burning like in Mexico; 142
A WOMAN'S CHARMS
Two coral gates wherein is shown
Your queen of charms on a white throne;
Your queen of charms, the lovely smile
That on its white throne could beguile
The mastiff from his gates in hell ;
Who by no whine or bark could tell
His masters what thing made him go —
And countless other charms I know.
October's hedge has far less hues
Than thou hast charms from which to choose.
143
THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE
MY birthday — yesterday, Its hours were twenty-four; Four hours I lived lukevvarm, And killed a score.
Eight bells and then I woke, Came to our fire below, Then sat four hours and watched Its sullen glow.
Then out four hours I walked, The lukewarm four I live, And felt no other joy Than air can give.
My mind durst know no thought. It knew my life too well: 'Twas hell before, behind, And round me hell. 144
THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE
Back to that fire again, Ten hours I watch it now, And take to bed dim eyes And fever's brow.
Ten hours I give to sleep. More than my need, I know ; But I escape my mind And that fire's glow.
For listen: it is death To watch that fire's glow; For, as it burns more red Men paler grow.
0 better in foul room That's warm, make life away, Than homeless out of doors. Cold night and day.
Pile on the coke, make fire, Rouse its death-dealing glow; Men are borne dead away Ere they can know.
1 lie; I cannot watch
Its glare from hour to hour; 145
THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE
It makes one sleep, to wake Out of my power.
I close my eyes and swear It shall not wield its power; No use, I wake to find A murdered hour.
Lying between us there! That fire drowsed me deep, And I wrought murder's deed — Did it in sleep.
I count us, thirty men. Huddled from Winter's blow% Helpless to move away From that fire's glow.
So goes my life each day — Its hours are tw^enty-four — Four hours I live lukewarm, And kill a score.
No man lives life so wise But unto Time he throws Morsels to hunger for At his life's close. 146
THE LODGING HOUSE FIRE
Were all such morsels heaped — Time greedily devours, When man sits still — he'd mourn So few wise hours.
But all my day is waste, I live a lukewarm four And make a red coke fire Poison the score.
147
BODY AND SPIRIT
WHO stands before me on the stairs: Ah, is it you, my love? My candle-light burns through your arm,
And still thou dost not move; Thy body's dead, this is not you — It is thy ghost my light burns through.
Thy spirit this: I leap the stairs,
To reach thy body's place; I kiss and kiss, and still there comes
No colour to thy face; I hug thee for one little breath — For this is sleep, it is not death!
The first night she was in her grave, And I looked in the glass,
I saw her sit upright in bed — Without a sound it was;
I saw her hand feel in the cloth.
To fetch a box of powder forth. 148
BODY AND SPIRIT
She sat and watched me all the while,
For fear I looked her way; I saw her powder cheek and chin,
Her fast corrupting clay Then down my lady lay, and smiled — She thought her beauty saved, poor child.
Now down the stairs I leap half-mad.
And up the street I start; I still can see her hand at work,
And Oh, it breaks my heart: All night behind my back I see Her powdering, with her eyes on me.
149
CATHARINE
WE children every morn would wait For Catharine, at the garden gate: Behind school-time, her sunny hair Would melt the master's frown of care, What time his hand but threatened pain, Shaking aloft his awful cane; So here one summer's morn we wait For Catharine at the garden gate. To Dave I say — " There's sure to be Some coral isle unknown at sea, And — if I see it first — 'tis mine! But I'll give it to Catharine." " When she grows up," says Dave to me, " Some ruler in a far countree. Where every voice but his is dumb, Owner of pearls, and gold, and gum, Will build for her a shining throne, Higher than his, and near his own; And he, who would not list before, Will listen to Catharine, and adore Her face and form ; and," Dave went on - When came a man there pale and wan, 150
CATHARINE
Whose face was dark and wet though kind, He, coming there, seemed like a wind Whose breath is rain, yet will not stop To give the parched flowers a drop: " Go, children, to your school," he said " And tell the master Catharine's dead."
151
STRONG MOMENTS
SOMETIMES I hear fine ladies sing. Sometimes I smoke and drink with men; Sometimes I play at games of cards — Judge me to be no strong man then.
The strongest moment of my life Is when I think about the poor ;
WTien, like a spring that rain has fed, My pity rises more and more.
The flower that loves the warmth and light, Has all its mornings bathed in dew ;
My heart has moments wet with tears, Mv weakness is they are so few.
THE LITTLE ONES
THE little ones are put in bed, And both are laughing, lying down: Their father, and their mother too, Are gone on Christmas-eve to town.
" Old Santa Claus will bring a horse, Gee up," cried little Will, with glee;
" If I am good, I'll have a doll
From Santa Claus " — laughed Emily.
The little ones are gone to sleep, Their father and their mother now
Are coming home, with many more — They're drunk, and make a merry row.
The little ones on Christmas morn
Jump up, like skylarks from the grass;
And then they stand as still as stones. And just as cold as stones, Alas! 153
THE LITTLE ONES
No horse, no doll beside their bed, No sadder little ones could be;
" We did some wrong," said little Will — " We must have sinned," sobbed Emily.
154
NIGHT WANDERERS
THEY hear the bell of midnight toll, And shiver in their flesh and soul ; They lie on hard, cold wood or stone, Iron, and ache in every bone; They hate the night: they see no eyes Of loved ones in the starlit skies. They see the cold, dark water near; They dare not take long looks for fear They'll fall like those poor birds that see A snake's eyes staring at their tree. Some of them laugh, half-mad ; and some All through the chilly night are dumb ; Like poor, weak infants some converse, And cough like giants, deep and hoarse.
55
LOVE'S COMING
AN hour or more she's gone, And we are left alone, I and her bird. At last he twittered sweet, To hear my loved one's feet. And I, too, heard.
When she had entered there He cocked his head with care, If right or wrong; But when her voice was heard A frenzy seized the bird To rave in song.
" Peace, pet, my love is near, Her voice I cannot hear In such a din ;
Thou couldst not call more loud Unto a smiling cloud That May hides in." 156
LOVE'S COMING
Now, what his thoughts could be-
If she still spake and he
In harmony;
Or had forgetful grown,
Enamoured of his own
Sweet melody —
Is not my say ; I know
I out with her must go
To hear her story.
We left that raving thing —
Made worse by laughter — sing
Out his mad glory.
t57
WHERE WE DIFFER
TO think my thoughts all hers, Not one of hers is mine; She laughs — while I must sigh; She sings — while I must whine.
She eats — while I must fast;
She reads — while I am blind ; She sleeps — while I must wake;
Free — I no freedom find.
To think the world for me
Contains but her alone, And that her eyes prefer
Some ribbon, scarf, or stone.
158
PARTED
ALACK for life! Worn to a stalk since yesterday Is the flower with whom the bee did stay, And he was but one night away. Alack for life, I say.
Alack for life!
A flower put on her fine array,
In hopes a bee would come her way,
Who's dying in his hive this day.
Alack for life, I say.
Alack for life!
If Death like Love would throw his dart And pierce at once a double heart, And not to strike away one part — Alack for life, who'd say?
159
THE BLIND BOXER
T TE goes with basket, and slow feet, -^ -■- To sell his nuts from street to street ; The very terror of his kind, Till blackened eyes had made him blind. Ay, this is Boxer Bob, the man That had hard muscles harder than A schoolboy's bones; who he.ld his ground When six tall bullies sparred around. Small children now, that have no grace, Can steal his nuts before his face; And, when he threatens with his hands. Mock him two feet from where he stands; Mock him who could, some years ago, Have leapt five feet to strike a blow. Poor Bobby, I remember when Thou wert a god to drunken men ; But now they push thee off, or crack Thy nuts and give no money back ; They swear they'll strike thee in the face. Dost thou not hurr>' from that place; Such are the men that once would pay To keep thee drunk from day to day. 1 60
THE BLIND BOXER
With all thy strength and cunning skill, Thy courage, lasting breath, and will, Thou'rt helpless now; a little ball, No bigger than a cherry small, Has now refused to guide and lead Twelve stone of strong, hard flesh that need But that ball's light to make thee leap And strike these cowards down like sheep. Poor, helpless Bobby, blind: I see Thy working face and pity thee.
i6i
NOW
WHEN I was in yon town, and had Stones all round me, hard and cold. My flesh was firm, my sight was keen, And still I felt my heart grow old.
But now, with this green world around, By my great love for it! I swear.
Though my flesh shrink, and my sight fail. My heart will not grow old with care.
When I do hear these joyful birds, I cannot sit with my heart dumb ;
I cannot walk among these flowers, But I must help the bees to hum.
My heart has echoes for all things, The wind, the rain, the bird and bee;
'Tis I that — now — can carry Time, Who in that town must carry me. 162
NOW
I see not now the great coke fire With ten men seated there, or more,
Like frogs on logs; and one man fall Dying across the boarded floor.
I see instead the flowers and clouds, I hear the rills, the birds and bees:
The Squirrel flies before the storm He makes himself in leafy trees.
163
CLOUDS
MY Fancy loves to play with Clouds That hour by hour can change Heaven's face; For I am sure of my delight, In green or stony place.
Sometimes they on tall mountains pile
Mountains of silver, tvtice as high ; And then they break and lie like rocks
All over the wide sky.
And then I see flocks very fair;
And sometimes, near their fleeces white. Are small, black lambs that soon will grow
And hide their mothers quite.
Sometimes, like little fishes, they
Are all one size, and one great shoal;
Sometimes they like big sailing ships Across the blue sky roll. 164
CLOUDS
Sometimes I see small Cloudlets tow Big, heavy Clouds across those skies —
Like little Ants that carry off Dead Moths ten times their size.
Sometimes I see at morn bright Clouds That stand so still, they make me stare ;
It seems as they had trained all night To make no motion there.
165
THE POSTS
A YEAR'S a post, on which It saith The distance — growing less — To Death.
Some posts I missed, beguiled
By Song And Beauty, as I passed
Along.
But sad am I to think
This day Of forty posts passed on
My way.
For not one post I now
Must pass Will 'scape these eyes of mine,
Alas!
i66
NO MASTER
INDEED this is sweet life! my hand Is under no proud man's command; There is no voice to break my rest Before a bird has left its nest; There is no man to change my mood, Would I go nutting in the wood ; No man to pluck my sleeve and say — I want thy labour for this day; No man to keep me out of sight, When that dear Sun is shining bright. None but my friends shall have command Upon my time, my heart and hand ; I'll rise from sleep to help a friend. But let no stranger orders send, Or hear my curses fast and thick. Which in his purse-proud throat will stick Like burs. If I cannot be free To do such work as pleases me, Near woodland pools and under trees, You'll get no work at all ; for I Would rather live this life and die A beggar or a thief, than be A working slave with no days free. 167
RICH OR POOR
WITH thy true love I have more wealth Than Charon's piled-up bank doth hold; Where he makes kings lay down their crown And lifelong misers leave their gold.
Without thy love I've no more wealth
Than seen upon that other shore; That cold, bare bank he rows them to —
Those kings and misers made so poor.
[68
THE SEA
HER cheeks were white, her eyes were wild, Her heart was with her sea-gone child. " Men say you know and love the sea? It is ten days, my child left me ; Ten days, and still he doth not come. And I am weary of my home."
I thought of waves that ran the deep And flashed like rabbits, when they leap. The white part of their tails; the glee Of captains that take brides to sea, And own the ships they steer; how seas Played leapfrog over ships with ease.
The great Sea-Wind, so rough and kind ; Ho, ho! his strength; the great Sea-wind Blows iron tons across the sea! Ho, ho ! his strength ; how wild and free ! He breaks the waves, to our amaze, Into ten thousand little sprays! 169
THE SEA
" Nay, have no fear "; I laughed with joy, " That you have lost a sea-gone boy ; The Sea's wild horses, they are far More safe than Land's tamed horses are; They kick with padded hoofs, and bite With teeth that leave no marks in sight.
" True, Waves will howl when, all day long The Wind keeps piping loud and strong; For in ship's sails the wild Sea-Breeze Pipes sweeter than your birds in trees; But have no fear " — I laughed with joy, " That you have lost a sea-gone bey."
That night I saw ten thousand bones Coffined in ships, in weeds and stones; Saw how the Sea's strong jaws could take Big iron ships like rats to shake; Heard him still moan his discontent For one man or a continent.
I saw that woman go from place To place, hungry for her child's face; I heard her crj'ing, crying, crying; Then, in a flash ! saw the Sea trying. With savage joy, and efforts wild. To smash his rocks with a dead child. 170
A LIFE'S LOVE
HOW do I love to sit and dream Of that sweet passion, when I meet The lady I must love for life !
The very thought makes my Soul beat Its wings, as though it saw that light Silver the rims of my black night.
I see her bring a crimson mouth
To open at a kiss, and close ; I see her bring her two fair cheeks.
That I may paint on each a rose ; I see her two hands, like doves white. Fly into mine and hide from sight.
In fancy hear her soft, sweet voice;
My eager Soul, to catch her words, Waits at the ear, with Noah's haste
To take God's message-bearing birds; What passion she will in me move — The Lady I for life must love! 171
SWEET CHILD
SWEET child, that wast my bird by day, My bird that never failed in song; That on my bosom wast a bee. And layst there all night long:
No more I'll hear thy voice at noon.
For Death has pierced thee with a thorn ;
No more thou'lt sleep upon my breast. And trample it at morn.
Then break, oh break, poor empty cage. The bird is dead, thy use is done;
And die, poor plant, for your sweet bee Is gone, forever gone.
[72
DEATH'S GAME
DEATH can but play one game with me If I live here alone; He cannot strike me a foul blow Through a beloved one.
To-day he takes my neighbour's wife,
And leaves a little child To lie upon his breast and cry
Like the Night-wind, so wild.
And every hour its voice is heard —
Tell me where is she gone! Death cannot play that game with me —
If I live here alone.
173
APRIL BOYS AND GIRLS
OF primrose boys April has many; He seems as fond Of them as any ; He shows the world Those boys in gold.
But violets are
His girls, whom he
Shuts up in some Green nunnery:
So does he prove
His deepest love.
April, a girl
Of yours is found; High walls of grass
Hemmed her around: April, forgive me — I followed a bee. 174
NEWCOMERS
SO many birds have come along, The nightingale brings her sweet song, With lease to charm, by her own self, The nights of this best month in twelve. To sit up all a night in June With that sweet bird and a full moon — The moon with all Heav'n for her worth, The nightingale to have this earth, And there we are for joy — we three. And here's the swallow, wild and free, Prince flyer of the air by day; For doth he not, in human way, Dive, float, and use side strokes, like men Swimming in some clear lake? And then, See how he skates the iceless pond ! And lo ! the lark springs from the land ; He sees a ladder to Heaven's gate, And, step by step, without abate. He mounts it singing, back and forth; Till twenty steps or more from earth, On his return, then without sound He jumps, and stone-like drops to ground. 175
NEWCOMERS
And here are butterflies: poor things Amazed with new-created wings; They in the air-waves roll distrest Like ships at sea ; and when the}' rest They cannot help but ope and close Their wings, like babies with their toes.
176
SWEET YOUTH
AND art thou gone, sweet Youth? Say Nay! For dost thou know what power was thine, That thou couldst give vain shadows flesh,
And laughter without any wine. From the heart fresh ?
And art thou gone, sweet Youth? Say Nay!
Not left me to Time's cruel spite ; He'll pull my teeth out one by one,
He'll paint my hair first grey, then white. He'll scrape my bone.
And art thou gone, sweet Youth? Alas!
Forever gone ! I know it well ; Earth has no atom, nor the sky.
That has not thrown the kiss Farewell — Sweet Youth, Good-Bye!
177
A PLAIN LIFE
NO idle gold — since this fine sun, my friend, Is no mean miser, but doth freely spend.
No precious stones — since these green mornings show, Without a charge, their pearls where'er I go.
No lifeless books — since birds with their sweet tongues Will read aloud to me their happier songs.
No painted scenes — since clouds can change their skies A hundred times a day to please my eyes.
No headstrong wine — since, while I drink, the spring Into my eager ears will softly sing.
No surplus clothes — since every simple beast Can teach me to be happy with the least.
178
HEAVEN
^ I ""HAT paradise the Arab dreams,
■*• Is for less sand and more fresh streams. The only heaven an Indian knows, Is hunting deer and buffaloes. The Yankee heaven — to bring Fame forth By some freak show of what he's worth. The heaven that fills an English heart, Is Union Jacks in every part. The Irish heaven is heaven of old, When Satan cracked skulls manifold. The Scotsman has his heaven to come — To argue his Creator dumb. The Welshman's heaven is singing airs — No matter who feels sick and swears.
179
ALE
NOW do I hear thee weep and groan, Who hath a comrade sunk at sea? Then quaff thee of my good old ale, And it will raise him up for thee ; Thou'lt think as little of him then As when he moved with living men.
If thou hast hopes to move the world,
And every effort it doth fail, Then to thy side call Jack and Jim,
And bid them drink with thee good ale; So may the world, that would not hear, Perish in hell with all your care.
One quart of good old ale, and I Feel then what life immortal is:
The brain is empty of all thought.
The heart is brimming o'er with bliss ;
Time's first child. Life, doth live; but Death,
The second, hath not yet his breath. 1 80
ALE
Give me a quart of good old ale, Am I a homeless man on earth ?
Nay, I want not your roof and quilt, I'll lie warm at the moon's cold hearth :
No grumbling ghost to grudge my bed,
His grave, ha! ha! holds up my head.
i8i
THE LIKENESS
WHEN I came forth this morn I saw Quite twenty cloudlets in the air; And then I saw a flock of sheep,
Which told me how those clouds came there.
That flock of sheep, on that green grass. Well might it lie so still and pioud!
Its likeness had been drawn in heaven, On a blue sky, in silvery cloud.
I gazed me up, I gazed me down,
And swore, though good the likeness was,
'Twas a long way from justice done
To such white wool, such sparkling grass.
182
A FLEETING PASSION
THOU shalt not laugh, thou shalt not romp, Let's grimly kiss with bated breath ; As quietly and solemnly As Life when it is kissing Death. Now in the silence of the grave, My hand is squeezing that soft breast ; While thou dost in such passion lie. It mocks me with its look of rest.
But when the morning comes at last, And we must part, our passions cold, You'll think of some new feather, scarf To buy with my small piece of gold ; And I'll be dreaming of green lanes. Where little things with beating hearts Hold shining eyes between the leaves. Till men with horses pass, and carts.
183
THE CHILD AND THE MARINER
A DEAR old couple my grandparents were, •^ ^ And kind to all dumb thing; they saw in Heaven The lamb that Jesus petted when a child ; Their faith was never draped by Doubt: to them Death was a rainbow in Eternity, That promised everlasting brightness soon. An old seafaring man was he ; a rough Old man, but kind ; and hairy, like the nut Full of sweet milk. All day on shore he watched The winds for sailors' wives, and told what ships Enjoyed fair weather, and what ships had storms; He watched the sky, and he could tell for sure What afternoons would follow stormy morns, If quiet nights would end wild afternoons. He leapt away from scandal with a roar. And if a whisper still possessed his mind. He walked about and cursed it for a plague. He took offence at Heaven when beggars passed, And sternly called them back to give them help.
In this old captain's house I lived, and things That house contained were in ships' cabins once: 184
THE CHILD AND THE MARINER
Sea-shells and charts and pebbles, model ships ; Green weeds, dried fishes stuffed, and coral stalks; Old wooden trunks with handles of spliced rope. With copper saucers full of monies strange, That seemed the savings of dead men, not touched To keep them warm since their real owners died ; Strings of red beads, methought were dipped in blood, And swinging lamps, as though the house might move ; An ivory lighthouse built on ivory rocks. The bones of fishes and three bottled ships. And many a thing was there which sailors make In idle hours, when on long voyages, Of marvellous patience, to no lovely end. And on those charts I saw the small black dots That were called islands, and I knew they had Turtles and palms, and pirates' buried gold.
There came a stranger to my grandad's house. The old man's nephew, a seafarer too ; A big, strong able man who could have walked Tom Barium's hill all clad in iron mail ; So strong he could have made one man his club To knock down others — Henry was his name, No other name was uttered by his kin. And here he was, insooth illclad, but oh. Thought I, what secrets of the sea are his! This man knows coral islands in the sea, 185
THE CHILD AND THE MARINER
And dusky girls heartbroken for white men ;
This sailor knows of wondrous lands afar,
More rich than Spain, when the Phoenicians shipped
Silver for common ballast, and they saw
Horses at silver mangers eating grain ;
This man has seen the wind blow up a mermaid's hair
Which, like a golden serpent, reared and stretched
To feel the air away beyond her head.
He begged my pennies, which I gave with joy —
He will most certainly return some time
A self-made king of some new land, and rich.
Alas that he, the hero of my dreams.
Should be his people's scorn ; for they had rose
To proud command of ships, whilst he had toiled
Before the mast for years, and well content ;
Him they despised, and only Death could bring
A likeness in his face to show like them.
For he drank all his pay, nor went to sea
As long as ale was easy got on shore.
Now, in his last long voyage he had sailed From Plymouth Sound to where sweet odours fan The Cingalese at work, and then back home — But came not near his kin till pay was spent. He was not old, yet seemed so ; for his face Looked like the drowned man's in the morgue, when it Has struck the wooden wharves and keels of ships. 1 86
THE CHILD AND THE MARINER
And all his flesh was pricked with Indian ink, His body marked as rare and delicate As dead men struck by lightning under trees, And pictured with fine twigs and curled ferns; Chains on his neck and anchors on his arms ; Rings on his fingers, bracelets on his wrist ; And on his breast the Jane of Appledore Was schooner rigged, and in full sail at sea. He could not whisper with his strong hoarse voice, No more than could a horse creep quietly; He laughed to scorn the men that muffled close For fear of wind, till all their neck was hid, Like Indian corn wrapped up in long green leaves. He knew no flowers but seaweeds brown and green. He knew no birds but those that followed ships. Full well he knew the water-world ; he heard A grander music there than we on land, When organ shakes a church ; swore he would make The sea his home, though it was always roused By such wild storms as never leave Cape Horn ; Happy to hear the tempest grunt and squeal Like pigs heard dying in a slaughterhouse. A true-born mariner, and this his hope — His coflfin would be what his cradle was, A boat to drown in and be sunk at sea ; To drown at sea and lie a dainty corpse Salted and iced in Neptune's larder deep. 187
THE CHILD AND THE MARINER
This man despised small coasters, fishing smacks; He scorned those sailors who at night and morn Can see the coast, when in their little boats They go a six days' voyage and are back Home with their wives for every Sabbath day. Much did he talk of tankards of old beer, And bottled stuff he drank in other lands, Which was a liquid fire like Hell to gulp, But Paradise to sip.
And so he talked ; Nor did those people listen with more awe To Lazarus — whom they had seen stone dead — Than did we urchins to that seaman's voice. He many a tale of wonder told: of where, At Argostoli, Cephalonia's sea Ran over the earth's lip in heavy floods ; And then again of how the strange Chinese Conversed much as our homely Blackbirds sing. He told us how he sailed in one old ship Near that volcano Martinique, whose power Shook like dry leaves the whole Caribbean seas; And made the Sun set in a sea of fire Which only half was his; and dust was thick On deck, and stones were pelted at the mast. So, as we walked along, that seaman dropped Into my greedy ears such words that sleep
THE CHILD AND THE MARINER
Stood at my pillow half the night perplexed. He told how isles sprang up and sank again, Between short voyages, to his amaze; How they did come and go, and cheated charts; Told how a crew was cursed when one man killed A bird that perched upon a moving barque ; And how the sea's sharp needles, firm and strong, Ripped open the bellies of big, iron ships; Of mighty icebergs in the Northern seas, That haunt the far horizon like white ghosts. He told of waves that lift a ship so high That birds could pass from starboard unto port Under her dripping keel.
Oh, it was sweet To hear that seaman tell such wondrous tales : How deep the sea in parts, that drowned men Must go a long way to their graves and sink Day after day, and wander with the tides. He spake of his own deeds ; of how he sailed One summer's night along the Bosphorus, And he, — who knew no music like the wash Of waves against a ship, or wind in shrouds — Heard then the music on that woody shore Of nightingales, and feared to leave the deck, He thought 'twas sailing into Paradise.
189
THE CHILD AND THE MARINER
To hear these stories all we urchins placed Our pennies in that seaman's ready hand ; Until one mom he signed for a long cruise, And sailed away — we never saw him more. Could such a man sink in the sea unknown? Nay, he had found a land with something rich, That kept his eyes turned inland for his life. " A damn bad sailor and a landshark too, No good in port or out " — my grandad said.
FINIS
190
"Borzoi" stands for the best in litera- ture in all its branches — drama and fiction, poetry and art. "Borzoi" also stands for unusually pleasing book-making.
Borzoi Books are good books and there is one for every taste worthy of the name. A few are briefly described on the next page. Mr. Knopf will be glad to see that you are notified regularly of new and forth- coming Borzoi Books if you will send him your name and address for that purpose. He will also see that your local dealer is suppKed.
Address THE BORZOI
220 West Forty-Second Street
New York
The New Borzoi Books
Published b); ALFRED A. KNOPF
TALES OF THE PAMPAS By W. H. Hudson, author of "Green Mansions." Including what Edward Garnett calls "the finest short story in English." Three-color jacket. $1.25
A DRAKE I BY GEORGE! By John Trevena. A perfectly delightful tale of Devonshire, with plot and humor a-plenty. $1 .50
THE CRUSHED FLOWER From the Russian of Leonid Andreyev. Three novelettes and some great short stories by this master. $1 .50
JOURNALISM VERSUS ART By Max Eastman. A brilliant and sccurching analysis of what is wrong with our magazine writing and illustrations. Many pictures of unusual interest. $1 .00
MODERN RUSSIAN HISTORY From the Russian of Alexander Kornilov. The only work in English that comes right down to the present day. Two volumes, boxed, per set. $5.00
THE RUSSIAN SCHOOL OF PAINTING From the Russian of Alexandre Benois, with an introduction by Christian Brinton and thirty- two full-page plates. The only survey in English. $3.00
SUSSEX GORSE By Sheila Kaye-Smith. A wonderfully vigorous and powerful novel of Sussex. A really masterly book. $1.50
RUSSIA'S MESSAGE By William English Walling, with 3 1 illus- trations. A new and revised edition of this most important work. $2.00
WAR From the Russian of Michael Artzibashef, author of "Sanine." A four-act play of unusual power and strength. $ 1 .00
MORAL From the German of Ludwig Thoma. A three-act comedy that is unlike anything ever attempted in English. $1 .00
MOLOCH By Beulah Marie Dix. Probably the most thrilling play ever written about war. $ 1 .00
THE INSPECTOR-GENERAL From the Russian of Nicolai Gogol, author of "Tareis Bulba." The first adequate version in English of this masterpiece of comedy. $ 1 .00
THE SHAVING OF SHAGPAT A handsome holiday edition of George Meredith's Arabian Entertainment. With fifteen beautiful plates and an introduction by George Eliot. Qyarto. $5.00
All prices are net. 220 WEST FORTY- SECOND STREET, NEW YORK
ORNIA LIBRARY
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