THEODORE MAYNARD

WITH AN INTRODU CTION B Y

K . CHE ER ON G . ST T

NEW YORK E M F REDERICK A . STOK S CO PANY PUBLISHERS 1 1 1 18 Daniel E H s Co M, 9 7 , 9 , by . ud on! Copyright, 19 1 1 1 EThe sterso Merc Co n ht 1 1 y f y py g , 9 7 , 1 19 , by T t zmry S o czety of S t Pauf the A postle mthe late of N gorg

o t 1 C pyrigh , 919, by

FREDERICK A. S TOK ES COMPANY

All RightsReserved MY WIFE

We two have seen with our own eyes ’ God smultitudinousdisguise Waylaid Himin Hisvoyaging A mong the buttercupsof S pring In valleyswhere the liliesshone M ore gloriousthan S olomon We met a oet assn b p p i —g y, A nd learned hislyric you and I I

B ut oh ' I did kindly Heaven not bless Our livesw t mo e t an lovel ness i h r h i ,

W en cast on ever sa l n - rod h , y p i g , Wasseen the motley of our God When having picked our way with craft U cli sto hear Himw en He lau e p fi h gh d, We elt u l te on the win f , p if d d, Hisfolly bmn into our mind 7

What doubt can to uch us7 We have heard The baby laughter of the Word ! We mingle with solemnity A Catholic note of revelry

’ F romlove scarved choir- stallswe can The plain- song of the Breviary

F or aseach cleansing sacrament ’ To our soul scomforting wassent (Through water and oil and wheat B n n to uman the v ne ri gi g h di i ) , ’ S o shall we find on loverslips len ou a ocal se The sp d r of p yp , V 1 DEDICA TION

’ A nd through the body s! ive gatescome o o ten om To all the g od f Chris d .

We have no fear that we shall lose Th s o ousGosel o oo news i ! y p f g d , F or our symbolic love hasstood By virtue of itsfortitude K now n a tter Lenten ast i g bi f , atan scomo te at last S di f r d , A owe ac k scal in w t eat sca s b d b d g i h gr r , Gethsemane o tea sand sta s f r r ,

A ou ne o the c oss and ah ! r y f r , , Itspart and lot in Golgotha I — We know let the marvellousthing be said ’ L ove sresurrection fromthe dead F or asM agdalen came with cinnamon ’ A nd aloesto smea L ove sl msu on r i b p , B ut met alo ne on the Easter grass ’ L e sL or thou she w st not Who He w if d, gh i as S o we t ll He soke asHe soke to her , i p p , Mi to ok H mor the a ener s i f g rd .

A r l 1 th 1 18. p i 4 , 9 NOTE

’ Thisedit ion o f Th eodore M aynard spoemsrepresent s

’ t he au t ho r s o w n sel ec t io n o f su c h o f hisp ub lish ed v e e a n u e in a e manen l e n rs sh e w ish esi cl d d p r t c o l c t io .

W t few mss ns it e esent st he c nt ent so f t h e i h o i io , r pr o t ee v lume s ssu e in G e at B t a n u n e t h e t t es hr o i d r ri i d r i l ,

! ” ! ” Lau hsa nd Whi tso S o n 1 1 D u mso De eat g f f g, 9 5 ; r f f , ” 1 1 F oll 1 18 n ne o f w c h as t e t b een 9 7; y, 9 , o hi h hi h r o

u e n n p blish d i t hisc ou try .

[ v ii ]

ON THEODORE MAYNARD S POEMS

IN t he c ase o f any poet who h asc uaght and h eld our l ec t n t e e is ene a a a t c ula ec e o f rec o l io , h r g r lly p r i r pi w c ema nsin o u r mn no t ast he c wn work hi h r i i d, ro ,

And ev e snc e I sw T b ut ast h e k ey . r i a in he N ew ! ” ness sme l nes c alle S n o f s b Wit o i d A o g Colour , y e a n a t e av e ema ne t o me asa Th eodor M y rd , h y h r i d f sml fic at n e manent e ement o f t he sort o i p i io , or p r l , ’ rest o f t he po et sw ri t i ngs; and I h av e felt himespe T e n c ially asa poet o f c olou r . h y are no t by a y me ans l n s T a sisa at e h b est o f his e . e re ec t a t e i h y dir , ppropri t o a b allad ; and t h ey h av e no ne o f t he fine w himsi c alit y or t he fr ank h umo u r t o b e found elsewhere in Amn t ese t e s t he hiswork . o g h o h r c hoi c e ish ard ! b ut I sho uld say t h at t he finest poet ry assuc h ist o f u n in t he ma es and ev en in t he v e t t e o b e o d i g , ry i l , f ’ ” The Wo rld sMise r ! and e v e n more in t he poem ! ” al se In t slat t e t he c alled Apoc yp . hi r poet imagi nes a new w orld w hi c h sh all b e su pe rn at u ral in t he st rongest sense o f t he word ; t h at o f b ei ng more v i v id and posi t iv e t h an t h e nat u ral ; and no t (asit isso oft en imag t enu u sand v ined) more o oid .

Or what empurpled blo o mst o o ust t he ro se ’ Or what st range grasst o glo w like angelsh air!

The last l ne h ast he t u c o f t he t e st c w i o h ru my i , hi ch n es a t n and a e T c h a g hi g yet le v s it famili ar . rue a t st c u n ac t a t n t at ene all esw r i i p g i y, hi g h g r y go i t h t ue a t st c le as e isw e - e esse in t he s ew r r i i p ur , ll xpr d hr d li neso f t he poem print ed asa se quel t o anot h e r poem ” ! o Th c alled To a Go d At heist . e se quel isc alled To l ix l ON THEOD ORE M A YNARD ’ S P OEM S

a Bad At e st w t t h a m h i , i h e c h r i ng explanat i o n ! Who w ro t e w h at he c alled a t ri ni t y o f meek re t ort s

t o t he e c e d n em w c w e e no t mee b u pr i g po , hi h r k, t full ” o f e and ab mnabl s H d prid o i e he re y . e esc ri b e st he ’ b ad at e st s n asc nt a n n n t n b ut saw u h i mi d o i i g o hi g d st ,

sun and san w c is a c c u at e and e aust d ; hi h r xh i v e . An d in so far aspoet ry appealst o p art i c ul ar t empera

ment s I m self find en ment e c all , y ! oy xpe i y in t he p art ! ” o f t he c o llec t i o n prope rly t o b e c alled L aughs ; in t he b alladso f feast i ng an d fellowshi p ; and e spe c ially in t h at su blime ab sol ut i o n grav ely offe red t o t he Du o f o f l ke N r o k . But t he sent iment o f c olou r st ill ran like a t hread t hrough t he whole t ext u re ; and I t hi nk t he re ish ardly

And t sis m o a poemt h at do esno t re pe at it . hi i p rt ant ; ’ a s b ec ause t he whole o f Mr . M ayn rd i nspir at ion is p art o f wh at ist he mai n b usinesso f o u r t ime ! t he Th resurrec t ion o f t he Middle Ages. e modern mo v e ment w t it sGu l S c a s and it s l t a eac t n , i h i d o i li m mi i ry r io a a nst t he fat al s o f t he Ba b a an isasc e t a nl g i i m r ri , r i y drawing it slife from t he lost c ent u ri eso f Cat holi c Eu e ast he mv ement m e c m nl c alle t he rop , o or o mo y d Ren aissanc e drew it s life from t he lost l angu ages u An d b a a nt in o and sc ul t u eso f ant t . c n p r iq i y , y qu i

sst enc Hellen st sand Neo - Pa anso f t he sc o f i y, i g hool

L w es D c nsn w l c all u s ant u at e fo r Mr . o i ki o i l iq d g at he ring t he fl ow ersw hi ch st ill grow o n t he grav e so f o ur me aev a anc est s W le t e t emse v es w l di l or , hi h y h l i l i ndust riou sly se arc h fo r t he sc at t ered ashesfromt he m h Pa a s ore dist ant pyreso f t e g n . [ ! ] ON THEOD ORE M A YNARD 'S P OEM S

And t he v sb e c ue t o t he M le A esis u i i l l idd g c olo r .

h m aev al man c o ul a nt b ef e he o u T e edi d p i or c ld dr aw . In t he almost st art li ng i nspirat i o n whi c h w e c all st a ne ass he sc v e e sme t n t at isa m st i d gl , di o r d o hi g h l o mo re c olo u red t h an c olou r ; somet hi ng t h at b e arst he same relat ion t o mere c olou r t h at golden fl ame does l H did no t l e t e a t st s t in t o en san . e r go d d , ik o h r r i , y hispi c t u rest o p ai nt t he sun ; he made t he sun h He m e d t he ab o n al l t p ai nt ispi c t u res. ix rigi ight wi h h And it ist st an su n t h e p ai nt su pon isp alet t e . hi r l c e t ac t u ali t y o f c olou r whi c h I feel in t he phraseology o f n a sno e s o a e t sw t e i a w it i t a t an s. We c an hi ri r, y y ly only say t h at wh en he says

Amo ng t he yellow primro ses He holdsHissummer palac es

n m n st h we av e a ess w c it i e b ec t o f all h i pr io , hi h o ! u It c an nl b e esc b e b a n poet ry t o prod c e . o y d ri d y syi g ’ t h at a primrose b y t he ri v e r sb rima yellow primrose ist o him and it o t ssb b an t n c n e e . , ould po i ly y hi g mor And t hisalmost t orrid direc t nessand dist i nc t nesso f t i nt is ag ai n c onnect ed w i t h anot her q u ali t y o f t he poet and hispoet i c t radi t ion ! wh at many would c all asc et i c ism alt ernat i ng w i t h wh at many would c all b uffo ne The c c o nv ent ns o f t he le o ry . olour io Midd Agesw ere c opi ed v e ry b eaut i fully b y t he sc ho ol o f R sset t and b u But t e l st t he e u b e anc e o i Sw i n rne . h y o x r o f t he Got hi c and b ec ame a p at t ern r at h e r t h an a plan ; c hi efl y b ec au se t h ey w e re no t se riou sly i nspired b h I y any o f t he ent h u si asmso f t e Middle Ages. t s [ xi ] ON THEODORE M AYNARD ’ S POEM S decorat i v e repeti t ionssomet imesbe c ame q u i t e dreary ’ and art ific i al; asin Sw i nb u rne s u nfo rt un at e c ou plet ab o ut t he lili esand languorso f v irt ue and t he rapt u res d l t t a t a e n an roseso f v i c e . A i l e he l hy g rd ni g would h av e t augh t Sw i nb u rne t h at it t akesq ui t e asmu c h It m v irt u e t o grow a rose ast o grow a lily . ight also av e t a t himt at v t ue isnev e an u w at ev e h ugh h ir r l g id, h r else it may b e ! and t h at ev en lili esare no t re ally lan u so n ast r l v If u c ec a ent s g id lo g hey a e a i e . s h d d w ant an image o f wh at it re ally is t h at holds u p t he a so f l l es an t e w n t n s I c an he d i i or y o h r gro i g hi g ,

u et in t s t t e v l me w c is refe r t hemt o a c o pl hi li l o u , hi h more b eau tiful and more origi nal and means a great deal more

! ' What wilful t reeso f any spring Than yo ur yo ung b ody are mo re fair?

These li nesc ont ai n a pri nc i ple o f life and mark t he h s et no t t . T e nt a n t e ec end o f a p agan st erili y h y co i r , w e w e ma b ut o f w n o f g at heri ng roseb uds hil y, gro i g s t hem when we choo e .

G . S R O . . K CHE TE T N

[ xii ] CONTENTS

LAUGHS AND WHIFTS SONG A SON G o r COLOURS E IDIT C ECIDIT B B N MANA C C , A YLO G APOCALYPSE GHOSTS PROCE S SIONAL A SONG OF LAUGHTER BALLADE IN PRAISE o r ARUNDEL

’ THE WORLD S MISER EASTER THE GLORY OF THE ORIFLAMME To A GO OD ATHEIST To A BA D ATHEIST PALM SUNDAY WHE N I RIDE INTO THE TOWN RE ! UI EM AV E AT! U E V ALE ALADDIN ADAM THE ENGLISH SPRING AT THE CRI B THE MYSTIC To ANY SAINT SUNSET ON THE DESERT xiii CON TENTS

FOLLY FOLLY THE SHIPS L AUGHTER . V OCATION BLINDNE SS DRIN K ING SONG THREE TRIOLETS A N EW CANTER B URY TALE F H M IN MEMORIAM . . To THE IRISH DEAD JOHN REDMOND BEAUTY ’ FA ITH S DIFFICULTY CHRI STMAS ON CRUSADE THE ASCETIC SONN ET FOR THE FIFTH OF OC TO B ER VV A RF A R E TREASON THERE W A S AN HOUR NOCTURN E PRIDE BALLADE o r SHEEP BELLS BALLADE o r A F EROC IO U S CATHOLIC DAW N SUNSET

PEACE . CARRION THE BUILDING OF THE CITY EDEN RE- OPENED [ xiv ] CONTENTS

THE HOLY SPRING V IATICUM PUNISHM E NT AFTER COMMUNION THE UNI V ERSAL MOTHER THE BOASTER UNW ED WED ENGLAND LYRIC LOV E

DRUMS OF DEFEAT

THE FOOL DO N ! UI ! OTE IRELAND IN MEMORIAM MATER DE SOLATA THE STIRRUP CU P THE ENSIGN BALLADE OF ORCHARDS A GREAT WIND BIRTHDAY SONN ET SILENCE AT YELV ERTON THE JOY OF THE WORLD GRA TITUDE IN DOMO JOHANNI S AT WOODCHESTER ! FOR THEY SHALL Po ssEssTHE EARTH BALLADE OF THE BE ST SONG IN THE WORLD ! V CONTENTS

TAIL- PIECE AV E A REPLY JO B THE SOIL OF SOLACE To THE DEAD S 1 16 PRING, 9 THE RETURN FULFILME NT PROPHECY THE SINGER To HIS LADY CERTAINTIE S FEAR CHARITY SIGHT AND IN SIGHT CHRISTMAS CAROL A GARDE N ENCLOSED THE LOV ER

[ xvi ]

A SONG OF COLOURS

OLD for the crown of Mary ,

e sk Blue for the sa and y, Green for the woods and meadows

Where small white daisies lie , And red for the colour of Christ ’ s blood

When He came to the cross to die .

These things the high God gave us And left in the world He made

’ Gold for the hilt s enrichment,

’ And blue for the sword s good blade , And red for the roses a youth may set

On the White brows of a maid .

t he Green for cool , sweet gardens

Which stretch about the house , And the delicate new frondage S The winds of pring arouse , And red for the wine which a man

With his fellows in carouse .

Blue and green fo r the comfort Of tired hearts and eyes , [3 ] A S ONG OF C OL O URS

And red for that sudden hour which comes

With danger and great emprise , ’ And white for the honour of God s t hrone S When the dead hall all arise .

t he Gold for cope and chalice ,

For kingly pomp and pride , And red for the feathers men wear in their caps

in ar When they w a w or a bride , And red for the robe which they dressed God in

On the bitter day He died .

[4 ] CIDIT CECIDIT CE , BABYLON MAGNA !

HE aimless business o f your feet , Your swinging wheels and piston The smoke of every sullen street s Have pas ed away with all your Gods .

For in a meadow far from these

o A hodman treads acr ss the loam , Bearing hissolid sanctities

To that strange altar called his home .

I watch the tall , sagacious trees

Turn as the monks do , every one ;

The saplings , ardent novices ,

un Turning with them towards the s ,

’ That Monstrance held in God s strong hands , Burnished in amber and in red ;

O n God , His w priest , in blessing stands ;

The earth , adoring, bows her head .

The idols of your market place , ? Your high debates , where are they now Your lawyers ’ clamour fades apace A bird is singing o u the bough ! [ 5 ] C D CIDIT BA CE I IT, CE B YL ON M A

Three fragile , sacramental things

Endure , though all your pomps shall ’ b utt erfl s A y immortal wings ,

A daisy and a blade of grass .

[ 6] APO CALYPSE

A nd I saw a new he av en and a new earth ! fo r the first ” h e av d th t ar h a — en an fi s e t w e e aw a . A x e e ssd P x i I . r r p y OC . ,

HALL summer woods where we have laughed our fill ; Shall all your grass so good t o walk upon ;

Each field which we have loved , each little hill — Be burnt like paper ashath said Saint John ?

Then not alone they die ! For God hath told His How all plains o f mingled fire and glass ,

His walls of hyacinth , His streets of gold , s His aureole of jewelled light shall pass ,

That He may make us nobler things than these , And in her royal robes o f blazing red

Adorn His bride . Yea , with what mysteries And might and mirth shall she be diamo ndedl

And what new secrets shall our God disclose ; Or set what suns o f burnished brass to fl are ; Or what empurpled blooms to oust the rose ; Or what strange grass to glow like angels ’ hair ! [ 7] APO CAL YPSE

What pinnacles o f silver tracery, What dizzy rampired towers shall God devise

Of topaz , beryl and chalcedony To make Heaven pleasant to His children ’ s eyes !

And in what cataclysms of fl—ame and foam Shall the first Heaven sink as red as sin When God hath cast aside His ancient h o me As far too mean to house His children in !

[ 8]

PRO CESSIONAL

EE how the plated gates unfold , How swing the creaking doors of b rassl

(1m With and gleaming arms , behold

’ Christ s regal c o horts passl

Shall Christ not have His chosen men ,

H i so Nor lead scrested knights tall , b Super upon thei r horses , when The world ’ s last cities fall ?

Ah , no l These few , the maimed , the ’ The saints of every lazar s den , ’ — The earth s o ff- scourings they come From desert and fromfen

To break the terror of the night ,

Black dreams and dreadful mysteries ,

And proud , lost empires in their might ,

And chains and tyrannies .

There ride no gold- encinctured kings Against the potentates of earth ;

God chooses all the weakest things , And gives Himself in birth [ 10 ] PRO CESSIONAL

t o With beaten S laves draw His breath ,

And sleeps with foxes on the moor ,

With malefa ctors shares His death ,

Tattered and worn and poo r .

See how the plated gates unfold , HO W swing the creaking doors b rassl V f — ictorious in de eat behold , Christ and His cohorts passl

[ I I ] A SONG OF LAUGHTER

HE stars with their laughter are Shaken ;

The long waves laugh at sea ; And the little Imp of Laughter

Laughs in the soul o f me .

fl a I know the gu w of a tempest , The mirth o f a blossom and bud But I laugh when I think of Cuchulain ! laughed

At the crows with thei r bills in his blood .

The mother laughs low at her baby , The bridegroom With joy in his bride And I think that Christ laughed when Him with staves

On the night before He died .

'

Pro no unced CuhIIlain.

[ 12 ] BALLADE IN PRAISE OF ARUNDEL

x (M ade aft er a w alk thro ugh S urrey and S usse . )

’ E ’ V trudged along the Pilgrims Way , I A ’ nd from St . Martha s Hill looked down O ’ er Surrey woods and fields which lay G reen in the sunlight . On the crown Of Hindhead and the Punchbowl ’ s brink

’ O f no good thing I ve been bereaven !

’ But A rundel sthe place for drink

Th ub e e o e e e p sk p p n till e l v en.

White chalk- clifl sand the stubborn clay

Are thrown about , and many a town Breaks on the sight like breaking day ;

But after all , who but a clown

Could Arundel with Midhurst link , Where men go dry from two till seven ?

’ In A rundel (no truth I ll shrink)

Th e t e e p ubsk e p o p en ill e l v en.

A great cool church where men can pray Secure from misb eliev mg frown ;

sa And in the Square , I beg to y,

The beer is strong and rich and brown . [ I 3 ] BALLADE IN PRAISE OF AR

thinl Some poor , misguided people

’ ’ Petwo rth sthe spot that s near

In A rundel the ale - pots clink

Th e e e til ev en e p ubsk p o p n l el .

’ L E nv o i

Duke , at the dreadful Judgment D Your soul will surely b e well sh r For then all a ngel tru mps shall b r H e k ep t p ubso pen till elev en!

[ I 4 ] THE TRAMP

Y brothers stay in cities

To gather shame and gold , But I am for the highway

And the wind upon the wold .

They take the train each morning

- u To a dull , bricked p place ; I trudge the living country

With the sunlight on my face .

I know no home o r shelter ,

b ed r No but good g een grass , Nor any friends but hedgerows

To greet me as I pass .

But though the road still calls

To places wild and steep , I find th e going heavy

My eyes are full o f sleep .

The fields lie all about me ; The trees are gay with sap

As I go weary , weary

’ To my great mother s lap , [ 15 ] THE TRAM P

To rest me with my mo The kindly earth so b And Lord ! But ‘well c I ’ll lay my carcase d

[ 16]

THE W ORLD ’ S M ISER

He fixes on each wayside stone

asHis A mark to shew it Own ,

And knows when raindrops fall thrOL

b e Whether each single one there ,

That gathered into ponds and brooks

His - They may become picture books ,

To shew in every spot and place

The living glory of His face .

[ 1 8] EASTE R

MONG the gay , exultant trees , O ver the green and growing grass ,

Clothed in immortal mysteries ,

I see Hisliving body pass . ,

The catkins fling abroad His name , While birds from every bush and Spray

Strain feathered necks , and tipped with fl ame

The hills all stand to greet His day .

E ach violet and bluebell curled

’ Wakes with the dead Christ s waking eye , And like burst gravestones clouds are hurled sk Across the wide and waiting y.

v And drenched , fo r ery height of mirth ,

With clean white tears o f April rain , Like Mary Magdalene the earth

’ Finds April s risen Lord again .

[ 1 9] THE GLORY OF THE ORI FLAMME

O rifl amme HE glory o f the , he Or strange , red flowers of t South Hold no such splendours as lie hid In your sweet mouth !

The secret honey o f the cliff, The lure and laughter of the Are not the dear delight that is Your face to me !

What wilful trees o f any spring Than your young body are more What glamour of forgotten gold Lurks in your hai r ?

O rifl amme The glory of the ,

Or strange , red flowers of the South Hold no such splendours as lie hid In your sweet mouth !

[ 2 0] TO A GOOD ATHEIST

HAT you can keep your crested courage high ,

And hopeless hope Without a cause , and wage

’ Christ s. warfare , lacking all the panoply

Of Faith which shall endure the end of age ,

You must be made of finely tempered stuff, i And have a kinship with that Spanish sa nt , ’ — Who wrote o f his soul s night it was enough That he should drag his footsteps t ired and faint

- t Along his God appointed pa hway . You

Have stood against our day of bitter scorn , When loudly its triumphant trumpets blew

’ o Contempt f all God s poor . Had you been born

t But in the ime o f Jeanne or Catharine , h W ose charity was as a sword o f flame , With those who drank up martyrdom like win e

Had stood your aureoled and ringing name . [ 2 1 ] TO A GO OD A THEIS T

G o d l Yet , when that secret day of shal With strange and splendid justice 1

skies ,

- When last are first , then star ward yo The praise and sorrow of your star

[ 2 2 ] TO A BAD ATHEIST w h o w r o te w ha t h e c a lled a tr inity o f meek r eto rtsto th e pre c n m w c w er e no t meek b ut ull o r e a nd edi g po e , hi h , f f p id a m e b o ina ble h resy.

OU do not love the shadows on the wall ,

t b lo m Or mists hat flee before a w g wind , O G r othic forests , or light aspen leaves ,

e Or skies that melt into a dreamy sa.

In the hot , glaring noontide of your mind (I have your word for it) there is no room

sun . For anything save sawdust , and sand

No monk ish flourishes will do fo r you ;

Your life must be se t down in black and white .

- The quiet half light of the abbey close ,

The cunning carvings of a chantry tomb , The leaden windows pricked with golden sain ts All these are nothing to your ragtime soul !

Yet , since you are a solemn little chap ,

and In spite of all your blasphemy booze , That dreadful sword of satire which you

— nn Hurts no hide but your own , you ca ot

A weapon which is bigger than yourself . [ 2 3 ] TO A BAD A THEIS T

Yet some there were who rode all clad With crosses blazoned on thei r mighty Roland who b lew hishorn against the Richard who charged for Christ at Asc

m v Louis a pilgri with his chi alry , And Blessed Jeanne w ho saved the France Pah ! you may keep your Whining Supe

[ 24]

PALM S UNDA Y

The vestments of Caiaphas With gold and silv er shone They would get soiled i f he cast

For the ass to walk upon .

A th o rnb ush r wsu n t he hill ( g o po , A nd G o lg o tha ise mp ty still! )

The religion of Caiaphas

IS very spick and span ,

- It does not love the ill bred mob , The homespun Son o f Man !

A th o rnb ush r o wsu o n t he hill ( g p , A nd Go lg o tha ise mp ty still! )

The dark soul of Caiaphas Is full of sin and pride ; I t do esnot know the splendour O r the triumph o f that ride !

A th o rnb ush r wsu o n t he hill ( g o p , lA nd Go lg o tha ise mp ty still! )

[ 2 6] WHEN I RIDE INTO THE TOWN

o HEN I go riding int the town ,

n When I ride i to the town , I fill my Skin at the nearest inn

When I ride into the town . ? Oh , what is there then to trouble about There are no such things as despai r and doubt

th e For when ale goes in truth comes out , When I ride into the town !

When I go riding out of the town ,

When I ride out of the town , I have my men behind me then When I ride out of the town ;

- Halberd , battle axe , culverin , bow ,

Four hundred strong as out we go ,

Four hundred yeomen to meet the foe , When I ride out of the town !

When I ride into the Town of Death That strange and unknown town l

c a - h- ie It will not be all p p ,

But with sword and lance laid down . [ 2 7] WHEN I RIDE INTO THE T

Then may our Lady beside me stand Saint Michael guard at my good right G o d rest my soul and the souls of my When w e ride into the Town !

[ 2 8] RE! UIE M

HEN my last song is sung and I am dead

And laid away beneath the kindly clay ,

Set a square stone above my dreamless head , And sign me with the cross and signing say Here lieth one who loved t he steadfast things

Of his own land , its gladness and its grace ,

’ The stubbled fields , the linnets gleaming wings ,

The long, low gables o f his native place ,

Its gravelled paths , and the strong wind that rends

’ The boughs about the house , the hearth s red

glow ,

- The surly, slow good fellowship o f friends ,

t o n The humour o f the men he used k ow , And all their swinging choruses and mirth”

Then turn aside and leave my dust in earth .

[ 2 9] AV E AT! UE VALE !

Y friends , I may no longer ride with you

b v To bear a sword in your ra e company , hi h Or follow our poor —tattered flag w c knew No Shame or slur o r any victory .

But this at least , with courage and with mirth We starveling poets and enthusiasts Have shirked no b attle fo r the stricken earth

’ Against its tyrants spears and arbalests .

An d S though I go to guard another ign ,

G o d These things , please , shall stand and never Slip 0 f ! ( riends of mine , O splendid friends o f mine ) G f Honour and Freedom and ood ellowship , O n which and on your ragged chivalry

I always think with proud humility .

[ 3 0] ALADDIN

HOUGH worlds all melt away in

’ The Heavens slender filament ,

The orange and the amet hyst , Are left me—and I am content !

I stand serene ami d the shocks ,

Upheavals , cataclysmic dust,

The binding fires , the falling rocks ,

The withering o f li fe and lust .

This little burnished lamp I hold Has shattered the eternities ;

Th e glamour o f all unknown gold ,

The ancient puissance of the seas ,

The sunlight and the love o f God Are cast in chains beneath my feet For at my first behest this so d

Becomes a cosmos , new , complete ,

Instinct with unimagined power ,

In colour radiant pole to pole ,

The sudden glory o f an hour , The epic moment o f my soul ! [3 1 ] ADAM

sk SAW a red y boding woe ,

o f The gleam an eternal sword , And heard the voice that b id me go

From the green garden of the Lord .

I knew the prick of Destiny , The scorn of the relentless stars ; The very grass looked down on me The first of all the Avatars !

E ach flower seemed to see my shame ; Each bird as though insulted flew — B efore my hateful face my name Was blown about the whole world through !

t Even my house wi h its red roof ,

Dear as it is , looks strange and odd ; My garden b eds are more aloo f From me than is my angry God !

[3 2 ]

THE ENGLISH SPRING

The cool , sweet Wiltshire meadows lie With buttercups from end to end ; b In secret woods are small looms , shy

Bluebells the good gods send . There is no cloud that wanders by

But is my friend .

And now the gorse is gold again ; The violet hides beneath the leaves ; And quickened by thin April rain The debonair you ng sapling weav es Hiscoa t of lightest green ; again

Birds chirp at the eaves .

E ach hidden brook and waterfall , Each tiny daisy in the sun Calls to my heart—the hedgerows all

So full o f twigs , they call , each one ; And with insistent voices call

e The roads where th wild flowers run .

0 set with grass and the English hedge

Are the long , white roads which wind and wind

’ Roads which reach to the world s edge ,

Where the world is l eft behind . [3 4 ] AT THE C RIB

GAIN the royalties are shed ,

Disdiademe d the kingly head ,

H e — v 1 lies again ah , ery small t Among the ca tle in the stall , Or in Hisslender mother ’ s arms

IS snuggled up from baby harms .

The Tower of Ivory leans down

’ From Paradise s topmost crown ;

The House o f Gold on earth takes root ;

esse ' co mes From J a saving shoot , For Mary gives (O man ifold Her courtesies that we may hold Our little Lord ’ s poor fragile hands

And feet , the guerdon of all lands .

No fool need fail to enter in

in The guarded Heaven we strive to w , O r miss upon a casual street

The fiery impress of His feet , But touch with every stone and sod

The extended fingers of our God , [3 5 ] A T THE CRIB

ff And see in twigs of the sti hedgerows , Or in the woods where quiet grows

Among the naked Winter trees , A thousand times these mysteries

The branching arms with Christly fruit ,

The thorns which bruise His head and foot .

N 0 more with silver shrilly blown

He treads a conqueror , but , flown

With swift and silent whitening wings ,

He comes enwrapped in baby things . Our God adv entures everywhere

Beneath the cool and Christmas air, And setteth still His candid star Where Mary and her baby are ! THE MYSTI C

HEN all my long and weary work is done

(Toiling both soon and late , by candle

light , Sewing and sewing while my eyes can see ) I lay my glasses by and watch the walls

o ff The plaster in patches , stained with smoke

Melt as a hoary mist and fl ee away .

Then through the splendour of the evening skies ,

its - - Along star lit paths , p ast pearl white clouds I hasten till I reach the region where God ’ s holy city like a virgin keeps

Its spotless tryst , forever night and day .

a I do not linger here , but take my w y To Him who sits among the Seraphim ;

ho And He w knows I am a poor old wife ,

With naught o f wit or wealth that I can bring, And that my hands are hardened by my toil

’ Sees that tis I that need Him most of all .

G o d Yea , will have the music hushed (for I Am growing somewhat deaf) and we will talk O f many things , as friend may talk with friend .

’ and Ah , I have looked , in the dear Lord s face (More lined with care than any earthly man ’ s) [3 7] THE M YS TIC

sufl ers Seen that He too , and understands How hard and late I work to keep the wol f O utside my door , and bring my children up H im To serve always , and to keep them clean

In . body, heart and mind

’ At the sun s call ,

Working with all my strength from early dawn ,

- Through the long day , and then by candle light

b s see Sewing on utton while my eyes can , . ’ I know the glory of God s gracious face ,

And at His touch my weary hands grow strong , H i Hearing isvoice my heart sglad and gay.

[3 8] TO ANY SAINT

F RE E O the choirs o f angels burst to song, In n ight and loneliness your way you trod

O v a 0 liant heart, weary feet and strong ,

- There are no easy b y paths unto G o d.

as h n Darkness there w , t ick darkness all arou d ;

Nor spoken word , nor hand to touch you knew ,

But O ne who walked the self- same stony ground

A n ' d Shared your dereliction there with you .

! 0 ! O valiant heart fixed , undaunted will

While all the heavens hung like brass above ,

You faltered not , but steadfast journeyed still

Upon the road o f sainthood to your Love .

And was not it reward exceeding great

To kiss at last with passionate lips His side , His ? ! ! hands , His feet O pomp O regal state O crown of life He gives unto His bride !

Lovers there are with roses chapleted But more than theirs isyour Lord 5 loveliness ;

Your Love is crowned with thorns upon His head ,

And pain and sorrow woven is His dress . [ 3 9] SUNSET ON THE DESERT

S some priest turns , his ritual all done , And stretching hands above the kneeling

crowd ,

Who rapt and silent , wait with heads all bowed Fo r the last holy words of benison

! G o d Now be with thee , ever Three in One

sun . So turns the , though all reluctantly One thrilling moment comes to shrub and tree ; Expectant stillness falls ; then dark and dun

The silhouettes of sphinx and pyramid

Gaze at the last deep amber after- glow ;

The little stars peep down between the palms ; And all the ghosts that garish daylight hid Are quickened—Isis With the breasts o f snow

And Antony with Egypt in his arms .

FOL LY

HALL I not wea r my motley A nd fl aunt my bladder o f green Before the earls and the bishops And the laughing king and queen ; Though hunger is in my belly A nd j ests my lips between ?

Men listen a moment idly To the foolishness I sing But my words are sharp and bitter

In savour and in sting, And harder than mail in battle

Where the heavy maces swing .

For full of the sap of folly

Grow the branches of the Creed , The fine adventurous folly

G o d gave us in our need , When He yielded up to scornful death

The human brows that bleed .

They nailed t he son o f Mary On a gibbet straight and tall ; [43 ] But the eagles of the Roman

’ e Were struck in Ca sar s hall , And the veil of the Holy of Holi

Was rent in the temple wall .

Wiser than sage or prophet ,

Or the pedant of the school , Than lord o r abbot or priest or

Who over the nations rule , Are the cap and bells and the In And the laughter of the fool !

Fe r ua 1 th 1 18 b ry 2 , 9 .

[44] THE SHIPS

HE bending sails shall whiten on the sea , Guided by hands and eyes made glad for

home , With graven gemsand cedar and ebony

From B abylon and Rome .

For here a lover cometh as to his bride , And there a merchant t o his utmost price

see Oh , hearts will leap to the good ships ride Safely to Paradise !

And this that cuts the waves with brazen prow Hath heard the blizzard groaning through her spars ; Battered with honour swings she nobly now

Back from her bitter wars .

And that doth bring her silver work and spice ,

Peacocks and apes from Tarshish , and from Tyre G ff reat cloaks of velvet sti with gold device ,

Coloured with sunset fire . [4 5 ] THE SHIPS

t h And one , serenely through e golden Shall sail and anchor by the ultimate

e Who , plundered of her gold by pirat Still keeps her richer store

U nrifl ed when her perilous journey ends And the strong cable holds her safe Laughter and memories and the songs

And the sword edge of pain .

J un I e I 9 7.

[4 6] LAUGHTE R

H , not a poet lives but knows b The laughing eauty of the rose ,

The heyday humour of the noon ,

The solemn smiling of the moon ,

When night , as happy as a lover , D oth kiss and kiss the earth , and cover

His face with all her tender hair .

Sweet bride and bridegroom everywhere ,

so And mothers , who softly sing

’ Upon their babies slumbering,

Know joy upon their lips , and laughter

’ At Joy s heels that comes tumbling after .

But wh o shall shake his sides to hear

That sacred laughter, fraught with fear , That laughter strange and mystical

The hero laughing in his fall ;

’ Whene er a man goes out alone , Is thrown and is not overthrown ?

The fates shall never bow the head

That irony hath comforted , Nor thrust him down with shameful scars

Who towers a bove the reeling stars . [4 7] L A U GH TER

G o d f f Thus , Who shaketh roo and ra ter O f highest heaven with holy laughter ; f s Who made fantastic , oolish tree

Shadow the floors of tropic seas ,

finn - Where y gargoyles , goggle eyed , Grin monstrously beneath the tide ; Who made for some titanic joke Out of the acorn grow the oak ;

From buried seed and riven rocks , — Brings death and life a paradox !

Who breaks great Kingdoms , and their Kings ,

Upon the knees of helplessthings . SO flesh the Word was made Who gave

His body to a human grave , While devils gn ashed thei r teeth at loss

To see Him triumph on the cross .

and Thus God , Who shaketh roof rafter O f highest heaven with holy laughter !

o th 1 1 Oct b er 14 , 9 7.

[4 8]

BLINDNESS

PEN the casement ! From my Perched high upon this dizzy My bli nded eyes behold the bloom

Of gardens in their golden fire .

Oh deep , mysterious recompense Time static to my ardent gaze ! No longer mortal veils of sense Conceal the blissful ray of rays !

Fantasti c forests toss thei r heads For my immortal youth ; on grass Brighter than jewels do the reds

Of riotous summer roses pass .

ffi I tra c in abysmal seas ,

v And di e for pearls and coloured shells ,

Where , over seaweeds tall as trees , The waters boom like tenor bells ;

- fish Where bearded goblin and sharks ,

’ With fins as large as eagles wings , Throw phosphorescent trails o f sparks Which glitter on drowned Spaniards ’ [ 5 0 ] BLINDNESS

From star t o star I pilgrimage , Undaunted in ethereal space ; And laugh because the sun in rage

Shoots harmless arrows at my face .

For even i f the skies should flare

’ In God s last catastrophic blaze ,

My happy , blinded eyes would stare

Only upon the ray o f rays .

J a nua 0th 1 1 ry 2 , 9 8.

[ 5 1] DRINKING SONG

HEN Horace wrote his noble verse ,

His brilliant , glowing line , He must have gone t o bed the worse

le ia For good Fa rn n wine . No poet yet could praise the rose In verse that so serenely flows U nless he dipped his Roma n nose

In good Falernian wine .

Shakesp eare and J o nso n t o o D rank de ep o f b arley b re w

D rank de e o b arle b rew m p f y , y D rank deep o f b arley b rew !

When Alexander led his men

Against the Persian King,

o He br ached a hundred hogsheads , then

They drank like anything .

They drank by day , they drank by night , And when they marshalled for the fight Each put a score o f foes to flight They drank like anything ! [ 5 2 ] DRINKING S ONG

N o w arrio r w o rt h hissalt

’ B ut quaflsth e migh ty malt

B ut ua sth e mi ht malt m q fi g y , y B ut quafisth e mighty malt !

When Patrick into Ireland went

The works of God to do , It was hi s excellent intent

o To teach men h w to brew . The holy saint had in histrain A man of splendid heart and brain A brewer was this worthy swain

To teach men how to brew.

The snak esh e drov e away W ere t ee t o tallersthey say

Te e t o talle rsthe sa m b o s y y, y y , Te e t o t allersthey say!

S e m 0 th 1 1 . pte b er 3 , 9 7

[ 53 ] TH REE TRIOLETS

OF A N IM PROBA B L E STORY

HEARD a story from an oak A S I was walking in the wood

- I , of the stupid human folk ,

I heard a story froman oak . Though larches into laughter broke

I hardly think I understood . I heard a story from an oak

AsI was walking in the wood .

OF DEPLORA B L E S EN TIMEN TS

I wouldn ’ t sell my noble thi rst

For half - a-dozen bags of gold ’ I d like to drink until I burst . I wouldn ’ t sell my noble thirst For lucre filthy and accurst

’ Such treasures can t be bought and I wouldn’t sell my noble thirst

- a- Fo r half dozen bags of gold . [ 5 4] THREE TRIOL E TS

OF LOV E A N D LA U G HTER

You sca ttered joy about my w ay And filled my lipswith lo v e and laughter In white and yellow fields of May

You scattered j oy about my way . Though Winter come with skies o f grey

And grisly death come stalking after , You scattered joy about my way And filled my lipswith love and laughter

[ 5 5] A NEW CANTERBURY TALE

N Itali e a mony ye er ago

v n There li ed a little childe Cathari e ,

o n é h erté With y g , merrie clere as snow . From hir first youthful hour sh e did ent wyne — Roses both whyt and reed Godis columb i n e

She w as. And for hir holy gaiety

Was by hir neighbours clept Euphrosyne .

h a ir E ch stepp s e took upon hi r f d sstaires , Kneeling she did an Ave Mary say ; With ful dev o cio un she seid hir prayers Ere that she w ent é forth ech day t o play Our Blessid ! ueen was in hi r thought alway O ur Modir Mary whose humility

i iné e Hath ra séd hir to hev smag sté.

When only sevin w asthis childe s age

hi sel o She vowed r f t sweet virginity,

o rswe erin l marrié e F g eny erth y g , That she the clené bride of Crist schuld Who on the heavy cross ful cruelly

e és e h ev in The J w nail d , to open wide

h eb o nd she C i tés us r s . Crist for hir , bride [ 5 6]

A N EW CANTERB URY TALE

o acient e And th ugh the p wax d querulous ,

b lessid seinté The wearied neer a whit ,

b radin so For hir up g tong slanderous , Nor even when upon hir h andeslit — The lepro sé corrupt and foul for hit Is nothing to the shamé G o ddé bore When nailes and speares His smoothe

- y tore .

But now behold a w o undro usmiracle !

al e c o lde For that Scint Catharine do ,

Hi r p acient died and was y-c arried wel h é Unto ir grav by stout men and true .

clo ddés When they upon hir corse the threw , Then n ew as eny childésgan to shine The shriv v elled bandes o f holy Catharine !

' There lived there a youth clept Nicholas ,

seditio un Who made in that citee ,

reté Causing a g riot in that place , So that the magist ratéso f the toun Hent himand cast him in a strong p riso un

A nd t hilké i hté w g they anon did try, e And for his sin condemn d him to die . [5 8] A N EW CANTERB UR Y TALE

And Catha rine y-w ax éd piteous

see b To him rought unto this sorry case , And went to himunto the priso un h o us i tés To move hissoul t o Jh esu Cr s grace .

So yong he was and fresh and faire of face ,

ré mo v éd Hir her was asto a son ,

as . And he by hir sweet , gracious wordes w won

That for his deth he made a good accord ,

- el asso l And was y shriven w of his y , And with a humble soul received our Lord

Hish ert é From the presteshands . that boil h — But little w ylesago wasfreed from toil ,

fixéd L o rdés And on our precious blood ,

Which for our sak He spilléd on the rood .

exe tio un And when he came to cu ,

N o feer had he nor eny bitter care , But walked among the guardést hu rgh the toun

In joy so hye as i f he trod on air .

Seint Catharine she was y-waiting t here

dree f l To cheer his soul against the d u end , G When unto o d hissoul at last most wend . [ 5 9] A NEW CANTERB URY TALE

And there t hilk e holy vi rgin welcomed him ;

! !

she é . Come , Nicholas , said , my sonn deere The boul o f glorious life is at the b rim — Come , Nicholas your nuptials are neer ;

The bridegroom calleth , be you of good cheer .

A nd wh ! madé y they redy, on hir brest

She kept the hed o f Nichol as at rest .

al And when that in ordre had been set ,

st ret chéd nekk é She out his tenderly,

o lé This day your su sbridegroom shal be met .

! H e . Hark how calleth , sweet and winsomely And Nicholas spak to hi r ful of glee

” ! ” Jh esu and Catharine the wordes he seid ;

o fl Then fel the ax and severed his hed .

as And even his bloody hed did fall ,

h andés She caught hit in her lap and faire , Nor reck éd that the b lood w asover al

H ir é sh e rob s , but kissed hit sitting there ,

e a A nd smooth d doun the rough nd ragged hai r . G o d wot that g ret é peace was in hir herte

That Nich o las in h ev in had found his part . [ 60] A NEW CANTERB URY TALE

t O holy Catharine , pray for us hen , B e t o our soules a modir and a frend f We are poor wandering and sin ul men , And al uhst able through the world we

n Pray for us , Cathari e , unto the end , That filléd with thy grete charity

G o és h l é In dd love we sc u d live and die .

[ 6 1 ] IN MEMORIAM F. H . M .

KIL LED IN CTION PRIL TH 1 1 A , A 9 , 9 7

e t e HOUGH now we se , as through the bat l

smoke , The image of your young uplifted face

Surprised by death , and broken as it broke

The hearts of those who loved your eager grace , Your noble air and magnanimity

A summer perfect in its flowers and leaves , s Brave promise of fruitfulness to be , Which no w no hand may bind in goodly sheaves

’ No hand but God s . Yet your remembered

ways ,

Your eyes alight with gentleness and mi rth ,

The lovely honour of your shortened days , A new grave gladness on the furrowed earth h new S all sow for us , a prid—e wide and deep A nd l see . we shal the corn and reap , and reap

[ 62 ] TO THE IRISH DEAD

h o OU w have died as royally as kings ,

Have seen with eyes ablaze with beauty , eyes

N o r gold nor ease no r comfort could make wise ,

n The glory o f imperishable thi gs .

Despite your shame and loneliness and loss

b t h e Your roken hopes , hopes that shall not

cease , Endure in dreams as terrible as peace Your naked folly nailed upon the cross

Has given u smore than bread unto our dearth And more than water to our achi n g drouth ; Though death has been as wormwood in your mouth

Your blood shall fructi fy the barren eart h .

A u ust n th 1 1 g , 9 7.

[ 63 ] JOHN REDMOND

HALL it be told in tragic song and story

O f ho b two w went em ittered all their days , Two lovely ! ueens divided in their ways ? Until their hearts grew hard , their tresses hoary Or shall the flying wings of oratory O f him who bore a great hope on his face Bring from the grave reunion to the grace That men call Ireland and to England ’ s glory ?

s Courageous oul , not yet the work is ended

see The perfect pact you never lived to , The peace between the warring sister mended b Must of your patient la ours come to be , When in a noise of trumpe ts loud and splendid G The ael hears blown the name o f liberty .

M c h 1 1 ar h 8t , 9 8.

[ 64]

BEAUTY

(ABS OL U TE )

HO shall take Beauty in her citadel ? Her gates will splinter not to battering days ;

Her slender spires can bear the onslaught well . Shall any track her through her secret ways To snare the pi nions of the golden bird ?

A feather falling through the jewelled air , Only the echo of a lo v ely word i Nowhere her being s, and everywhere .

But one may come at last through many woes

And pain and hunger to his resting place ,

The watered garden of the Mystic Rose , The contemplation of the B ru iséd Face

The quest of all his wild , adventurous pride ;

A nd . , seeing Beauty, shall be satisfied

J u l 111 1 y 2 9 , 917.

[ 66] FAITH ’ S DIFFICU LTY

OT these appal

The soul tip - toeing to belief

The ribald call , last black anguish of the thief

The fellowship

Of publican and Pharisee , The harlot ’ s lip Passionate wi th humility ;

Or the feet kissed By her who was the Magdalen The sensualist Is one among a world of men !

Oh , I can look

’ Upon another s drama ; read As in a book Things unrelated to my need ;

Give faith ’ s assent To that abysmal love outpoured But why Wasrent

me ? Thy seamless coat for , dear Lord [ 67] FAITH ’ S DIFFICUL TY

Why didst Thou bow

’ Thy bleeding brows for my heart s g How shall I now Reach to the mystic hardihood

Where I can take

personal treasure all Thy loss ,

When for my sake ,

sake , Thou didst endure the cross

For my soul ’ s worth ! ” W as It isfinished ! loudly cried ?

Fo r me the birth , The sorrows of the Crucifie d?

February

[ 68] C HRISTMAS ON C RUSADE

E RE shall we bivouac beneath the stars ; Gather the remnant of our chivalry

n n Ab out the crackli g fires , and urse our scars ,

And speak no more as fools must , bitterly .

The roads familiar to His feet we trod ;

' H e We saw the lonely hills whereon wept ,

F ra e d — Go d G o d ! y , agonised dear of very And watched the whole world while t he whole S world lept .

We speak no more in anger ; Christian men

Our armies rolled upon you , wave and wave

But crooked words and swords , O Saracen , — C an only hold what they have given a grave !

n We k ow Him , know that gibbet whence was torn The pardon that a felon spoke on sin There ismore life in Hisdead crown o f thorn

S aladin l Than in your sweeping horsemen ,

We speak no more in anger , we will ride

Homeless to our own homes . His bruised head [ 69] CHRIS TM AS ON CR USADE

- Had never resting place . E ach Christmas tide

h e Blossoms the t orn and w are comforted .

Yea , o f the sacred cradle o f our creed We are despoiled ; the kindly tavern door Is shut against usin our utmost need

We know the awful patience of the poor .

w e h We speak no more in anger , for s are

His homelessness . We will forget your scorn . The bells are ringing in the Christmas air ;

God homeless in our homeless homes isborn .

[ 70] THE AS CETI C

WILD wind blows from out the angry sky And all the clouds are tossed like thistle down Above the groaning branches of the trees ;

For on this steel - cold night the ea rth is stirred To shake away its rottenness ; the leaves Are shed like secret unremembered sins

e G o d In the great scourge of the great lov of .

Ere I was learned in the ways of lo v e

I looked for it in green and pleasant lands ,

In apple orchards and the poppy fields ,

And peered among the silences o f woods , And meditated the shy notes of birds

But found it not .

Oh , many a goodly joy Of grace and gentle beauty came to me

On many a clear and cleansing night of stars . But when I sat among my happy friends

(Singing their songs and drinking o f their ale , Warming my limbs before their kindly hearth )

My loneliness would seize me like a pain ,

A hunger strong and alien asdeath . [ 7 1 ] THE AS CE TIC

as No comfort stays with such a man I ,

No resting place amid the dew and dusk , Whose head is filled with perilous enterprise

The endless quest o f my wild fruitless love .

B t u these can tell how they h ave heard His voice ,

v b Ha e seen His face in pure untrou led sleep , O r when the twilight gathered on the hills O r when the moon shone out beyond the sea !

Have I not seen them ? Yet I pilgrimage

In desolation seeking after peace ,

Learning how hard a thing it is to love . is There a love that men find easily,

Familiar as the latch upon the door , Dear asthe cu rling smoke above the t hatch But I have loved unto the uttermost

And know love in the desperate abyss , In derelict ion and in blasphemy !

And fly from God to find him , fill my eyes

- With road dust and with tears and starry hopes ,

Ere I may search out Love unsearchable ,

Eternal Truth and Goodness infinite ,

And the ineffable Beauty that is God . [72 ]

THE AS CETIC

Then shall my spirit , naked of its ho Stripped o f its love unto the very b o n

’ Si nk simply into Love s embrace and Made consummate of all itsburning

A ug ust

[ 74] SONNET FO R THE FI FTH OF O CTOBE R

F I had ridden horses in the lists ,

Fought wars , gone pilgrimage to fabled

lands , ’ Seen Pharaoh s drinking cups o f amethysts , Held dead ! ueens ’ secret j ewels in my hands

I would have laid my triumphs at your feet ,

A nd worn with no ignoble pride my scars . f But I can only o fer you , my sweet ,

The songs I made on many a night o f stars .

e Yet hav I worshipped honour , loving you ;

Your graciousness and gentle courtesy, With ringi ng and romanti c trumpets blew t A migh y musi c through the heart of me , A joy as cleansing as the wind that fills

The open spaces on the sunny hills .

[75 ] WARFARE

t HEN I consider all thy digni y , I Thy hon our which my baseness doth accuse f To my own soul , thy pride which doth re use

t ff n s n Less han the su eri g thou ha t give me ,

My hope is chilled to fear . How stealthily Must I dispose my forces ! With what ruse

And ambush snatch the bearer of good news , E re I c an escalade austerity !

E asier it were t o fl ing the baleful lord

A nd infe rnal n the legio s o f the Pit , To ride u ndau nted at that roari ng horde But who shall a rmour me with delicate wit S u flicient for thine overthrow ? What sword Win to the tower where thy perfections sit ?

Ado r e!z 10 th 1 1 , 9 8.

[ 76] TREASON

HOU hast renounced thy proud and royal state ;

Deserted thy strong men- at - a rms who stand Attentive to imperious command ; And with a small key at the groaning gate l— Sweet traitress met thine enemy . The great ’ Moon threw a white enchantment o er the land

When in my hand I caught thy yielded hand ,

And laughing kissed thy laughing lips elate .

For o f thy queenly folly thou hast laid ff In sandalwood thy sti , embroidered gown ; With happiness apparelled thou hast strayed

Inc o nita g through many a sunlit town , Heedless o f our uncaptained hosts a rrayed

Or o f the fl ags their battles shall bring down .

M a ch 1 th r 7 , 1918.

[77] THERE WA S AN HOUR

HERE wasan hour when stars

A magical wild melody, When all the woods became alive

elfi With n dance and revelry .

A holiday for happy hearts

t n The rees sho e silver in the moon , And clapped thei r gleaming ha nds to see Night like a radiant kindled noon !

For suddenly a new world woke A t one new touch of wizardry, When my love fr o m her mirth ful mouth

Spoke words of sweet true love to me .

e uar th 1 1 F br y 9 , 9 8.

[ 78] N OCTU RNE

HEN evening hangs her l amp above the hill t And calls her children o her waiting hearth ,

Where pain is shed away and love and wrath , And every tired head lieswhite and still

fo r Dear heart , will you not light a lamp me , e And gath r up the meaning o f the lands ,

Silent and luminous within your hands , Where peace abides and mi rth and mystery ?

T t sit ha I may with you beside the fire ,

n And ponder on the thi g no man may guess , ’ t and Your soul s great maj es y gentleness ,

t h e Until last sad tongue o f fl ame expire .

D ec em st 1 b er a1 , 916.

[ 79] PRIDE

HO having known through night a great star falling

With half the host o f heaven in its wake , ’ s And o er chaotic sea a dread voice calling,

new And a purple dawn of presage break ,

C an t hope to conquer hee , proud Son o f Morning,

Arrayed in mighty lusts o f heart and eyes ,

With blood- red rubies set for thine adorning And sorceries wherein men’ s souls grow wise ?

Who shall withstand the onslaught o f thy chariot , Who ride to b attle with thy gorgeous kings ?

D n t o ost thou not cou t the silver Iscariot , And Tyrian scarlet and the marvellous rings ?

fl But ivory limbs and the ung festal roses ,

The maddening musi c and the Chian wine , Are overpast when one glad heart discloses A pride more strange and terrible than thine !

That looked unsatisfied upon thy splendour,

And turned , all shaken with his love , away [ 80]

BALLADE OF SHEEP BELLS

F LE T behind the green and gracious weald , A nd climbing stiffly up the steep inclin e

v Found high abo e each little cloistered field , Abo v e the sombre autumn woods of pine Where gentle skies are clear and crystalline The place remote from dense and foolish towns ; S And there , where all the winds are harp w ith

brine ,

he ard h hee s in o h e wn I t e s p b ell ring g n t D o s.

The sun hung out o f heaven like a shield

’ Emblazoned o e r with heraldry divine .

saw I suddenly , as though with eyes unsealed , S A portent sent me for an awful ign , A fairy sea whereon the cold stars shine ;

And standing on the sward o f withered browns , Burnt by the noontide and cropped close and

fine ,

‘ I h e ard t he he wns s ep b ellsringing on the D o .

A carillon o f delicate musi c pealed And tingled th rough the steeple of my spine ;

My soul was filled with loveliness and healed . I know how joy and anguish intertwine [ 82 ] BALLADE OF SHEEP BELLS

But this shall greatly comfort me as wine , G W ood ine , comforts a man and sweetly drowns The many sorrows of this heart of mine

I h eard t he shee ellsrin in o n th o w p b g g e D ns.

' ’ L E nv o i

- Prince , old bell wether o f an ancient line , When you ’re dead mutton I will weave you crowns — O f li v i ng laurel if on you I dine I h ea rd the she ep b ellsr inging o n the D o wns! BALLADE O F A FEROC IOUS CATHOLI C

i HERE sa term to every loud dispute , ’ A final reckoning I m glad to say ! Some people end discussion with their boot ;

t l . O hers , the prigs , wil simply walk away

But I , within a world of rank decay, i h Can face its treasons w t a flaming hope , Undaunted by faith’ s foemen in array I drain a mighty t ankard t o the Po p e !

o o n t h They do not p nder e Absolute , i But wander n a fog o f words astray.

no They have rigid creed one can confute , s No hearty dogma riotous and gay, But feebly mutter through thin lips and grey Things foully fashioned out o f sin and soap s But I , until my body rest in clay,

I drain a mi ht t ankard t o the Po e ! g y. p

’ I ve o ften thought t hat I would like to shoot The modernists o n s o me convenient day ; Pull out eugenists by their noxious root ;

The welfare - worker chattering like a jay I ’ d publicly and pitilessly Slay [ 84]

DAWN

HAVE beheld above the wooded hill

v 0 Thy tender lo eliness , Morning , break Beheld the solemn gladness thou dost spill

On eyes not yet awake .

But why recall unto the painful day Wild passions sleeping like obli v ious kings ? The broad day comes and thou dost speed away Westward on Swift wide wings !

mer rd 1 D ece b a3 , 19 7.

[ 86] SUNSET

H AVE seen death in many a varied guise ,

Cruel and tender , rude and beautiful ,

’ n Looking through wi dows in a young child s eyes ,

Stealing as soft as shadows in a pool ,

Falling a sudden arrow of dismay, Blown on a bugle with an iron note

The slow and gentle progress o f decay ,

man The taking of a strong by the throat .

I have seen flowers withe r and the leaf

r Of lusty Summer bu n to hectic red . But ah ! that splendid death untouched by grief

The sun with glad and golden -visaged head his Superbly standing on deadly pyre , A nd sinking in a sea o f jewelled fire !

e rua r th 1 1 F b ry o , 9 8.

[ 87] PEACE

HOSE lives are bound By sleep and custom and tranquillity Have nev er found That peace which i s a riven mystery

Who only share

m s r The cal that doth thi st eam , these orchards

bless , B reathe but the ai r

n Of unimpassioned paga quietness .

Initiate ,

Pain burns about your head , an aureole , Who hold in state The utter j oy which wounds and heals the

You kiss the Rod b s With dum , glad lip , and bear to worlds apart The peace o f God

Which passeth all understanding in your heart .

[ 88]

— These temples o f the Holy Ghost O hark ! These images o f God !

s Fle h , as the Word became in Bethlehem , Houses to hold their Sacramental Lord Swiftly and terribly to harvest them Swept the relentless sword !

Happy i f in your dying you can give

S acrific ed Some symbol o f the Eternal , Some pardon to the heartso f those wh o live Dying the death o f Christ !

a E a n Fe st o f the piph y, a ua th 1 J n ry 6 , 19 7.

[ 90 ] THE BUILDING OF THE C ITY

ho as JOHN , w once w called by Him

’ so n Boanerges , the thunder s , Who lay in tenderness upon His breast

Now that my days are done ,

And a great gathering glory fills my sight , Would tell my children e ’ er I go i saW ' with and i h Of H m I —head ha r as w ite As white wool white as snow .

The face before which heaven and earth did

The burnished feet , the eyes of fl ame , h t T e seven stars bright wi h awful mystery, And the Inefl able Name !

h o sa Yet I w w the four dread horsemen ride , s The vial o f the wrath of God , ’ ! Beheld a greater thing the Lamb s pure B ride ,

The golden fl oors she trod .

How B abylon , B abylon was overthrown , And how Euphrates flowed with blood

Ah , but His mercy through the wide world sown , The tree with healing bud ! [9 1] THE B UILDING OF THE CITY

t he I heard , among hosts of Paradise ,

ne The glad w song that never tires , A Lamb as it had been slain in sacrifice

Enthroned amid the choi rs .

s After the utmost woe have taken toll ,

And ravens plucked the eyes of kings , God ’ s own strange peace shall come upon

- On gentle , dove like wings .

The Dragon cast into the voidless night, G ’ b od s city cometh from a ove ,

Built by the sword of Michael and his might ,

’ But founded in God s love .

[ 92 ]

EDEN RE- OPENED

And opened wide the fields where w a b The loveless unremem ered trees ,

The sealed and silent mysteries .

’ And the scales fell from man s eyes ,

A nd r w he his hea t woke again , as

Adam found Eve in Paradise ; A nd joy was made complete G o d entered in and spoke with m

[ 94] THE HOLY SPRIN G

HE radia nt feet of Christ now lead

n The dancing sun y hours , The ancient Earth is young again With growing grass and warm whi t e rain

And hedgerows full of flowers .

The lila c and laburnum show

o f The glory their bud , A nd scattered on each hawthorn spray

The snow - white and the crimson may

The may asred as blood .

The b luebells in the deep dim woods

Like fallen heavens lie , A nd daffodils and daffodils Upon a thousand little hills

Are waving to the sky .

The corn imprisoned in the mould its Has burst wintry tomb , A nd on each burden ed orchard tree Which stood an austere calva ry

The apple blossom bloom . [ 95 ] THE H OL Y SPRING

The kiss o f Christ has brought to

The marvel o f the sod .

has it Oh , joy rent sChrysali s

To its is fl ash jewelled wings , and A dream of beauty and of bliss s The lovelines of God .

M a 1 y 19 7.

[ 96]

PUNISHMENT

HAT vengeful rod Is laid upon my b leeding shoulder

O G o d What scourge , , Makes known my shame to all beholders ?

Through what vast skies Crashes Thy wrath like shuddering thun

Before my eyes Thou dost display the wonder of wonders

As punishment To one whom sin Should bind Hath Mercy sent Word of the crucified arisen !

Guilt ’ s penalty Exacted—past my reeling reason Which lays on me Love—as a whip fit for my Treason !

rd 1 1 March g , 9 8.

[98] AFTE R C OMMUNION

OW art Thou in my house of feeble flesh , 0 Word made flesh ! My burning soul by Thin e Caught mystically in a living mesh !

N o w is the royal banquet , now the wine , The body broken by the courteous Host — Who is my humble Guest a Guest ador ed

Though once I spat upon , scourged at the post , Hounded t o Calvary and slew my Lord !

My name i s Legion , but separate and alone ;

Crucifie d ! Wash , wash , dear , my Pilate hand

d - ! Rejecte Stone , be Thou my corner stone

’ Like Mary at the cross s foot I stand ; Like Magdalene upon my sins I grieve ;

Like Thomas do I touch Thee and believe .

ec eme th 1 1 D b r 1 6 , 9 7.

99] THE UNIVERSAL MOTHE R

HO standing thrilled in hisbewilderment t Can ell thy humble ways , The hidden p aths on which thy white feet went Through all thy lonely days ?

From what deep root the Lily of the Lord

To grace and beauty grew , Or in what fires was tempered the keen sword That pierced thy bosom through ?

But we may turn and find within our hands

’ Our souls strange bread and wine , The gathered meanings of thy starry lands

Where mysti c roses shine .

’ and Heaven s air might grow for us too cold tense ,

Her towers far and faint , e Did we not know thy sorrowful inno c nce ,

Or soldier , singer , saint ,

Ea rth ’ s heroes with earth ’ s poor not kneel and tell ’ Their full hearts b urdenings To those dear eyes before which Gab ri el

Bent low with folded wings ,

THE BOASTE R

F the last blissful star should fade and wither , If one by one Orion and the Pleiades crash and crumb le ; The lordly sun

Be turned away, a beggar , all his triumphs

Gone down in doom ,

Wandering unregarded through the cosmos ,

None g iv mg him room .

Then would I shout defiant to the whirlwinds ;

Boastingly cry ,

GO wreck the world , its towering hills and waters !

But I , even I ,

Whose body wasflung out upon the dungheap

With weeds to rot , Still keep my soul unshaken by the ruin That harms me not !

I True , have fled from many a shameful battle , Did cringe and cower

Before my foes , but who can ever rob me Of one great hour ? ” [ 10 2 ] THE B OAS TER

For j oy rang through me like a silver trumpet ; About my head The tiny flowers fl apped in the breeze like banners

Of royal red .

And suddenly the seven deeps o f heaven

Were cloven apa rt , When love stood in your eyes and shone tremb led t Within your hear .

e ua 1 1 F br ry 9 8.

[ 103 ] U N WE D

r F I go down, to death uncomfo ted ’ By love s great conquest and its great su r

render ,

Bearing my soul along, unwed , unwed ; (Your darling hands ’ caresses swift and tender

Lacking upon my head , upon my lips

Your lips) and in my heart love unfulfilled ,

in And my eyes a blind apocalypse , Bereft o f all the glory I have willed ;

’ I shall go proudly fo r your dear love s sake ,

Triumphant fo r brief memories , but tragic B ecause of those large hopes that fail and b reak

’ Beneath Fate s wi zard - wand of cruel magic

But ah , Fate could not touch me if I stood C ompleted by your love ’ s beatitude !

D eceme th 1 1 b r 1 s, 9 7.

[ 104]

ENGLAND

I KE some good ship that founders in the sea , d Like granite towers that crumble into ust ,

So pass the emblems of thine empery . O But immortal Mother and august , Ardours of English saint and h ard and king

Blend simply with thy soul , even as their bones

Mingle with English soil . Thei r spirits sing

’ A great song lordly as is a loud Wind s tones . a Decayed by gold and e se and loathly pride , We had forgot our greatness and become

- Huckstering empire builders , and denied The excellent name of freedom till the drum

Woke glory such as met the eyes of Drake , O r Alfred when he saw the heathen break !

Where shall we find thee ? In the avarice That robs our brave adventures ? In the shame Spoiling our splendours ? In the sacrifice ? Of tears we wrung from Ireland Nay , thy name [ 10 6] ENGLAND

Is written secretly in kindliness

Upon the patient faces o f the poor , In that good anger wherewith thou didst bless

O ur hearts , when beat upon the shaking door

‘ h ethe b e fo re Strong hands o f hell . W r the flood

We sink , or out of agonies reborn

Learn once again th e meaning o f our blood , — Laughter and liberty a sacred scorn Is ours irrevocab ly since we stood And heard the barbarians ’ guns across the

morn .

D ec emer th a nd 6th 1 1 b 24 2 , 9 7.

[ 107] LYRI C LOVE

HEN kindly years have given me grace To read your spirit through ;

se To e the starlight on your face , U pon your hair the dew ;

To touch the fingers of your hands , The shining wealth they hold ; To find in dim and dreamy lands That tender dusks enfold

The ancient sorrows that were sealed , i The h dden wells of joy, The secrets that were unrevealed

o T one who was a boy .

Then to my patient p o nderings

Will fruits of solace fall ,

When I have learned through many Springs ,

Mighty and mystical ,

To hear through sounds of brooks and birds

Love in the leafy grove , As in my lyric heart your words

Bestir a lyric love . [ 10 8]

DRUMS OF D EFEAT

THE F O OL

B efore this crazy carpenter This b ody writhing on a rod And worship in that bloody hair The dreadful foolishness of G o d?

o f A shout o f laughter and scorn , A million j eering lips and eyes And in the sight of all men born The wildest of ea rth ’ s madmen dies !

[ 1 14 ] DON ! UI! OTE

HE air is valiant with drums

And honourable the skies , When he rides singing as he comes

With solemn , dreamy eyes

Of swinging o f the splendid swords ,

And crashing o f the nether lords , When Hell makes onslaught with its hordes

In desperate emprise .

He rides along the roads o f Spain

The champion o f the world , For whom great soldans live again With Moorish beards curled But all thei r spears Shall not avail

ho With one w weareth magic mail , This hero o f an epic tale And his brave gauntlet hurled !

Clangour o f horses and o f arms

Across the quiet fields ,

' t rum et e r alarms Herald and p ,

Of bowmen and of shields ; [ I 1 5 ] D ON ! UI! O TE

When doub t that twists and isafraid I sshattered in the last crusade , Where fl aunts the plume and falls the

The cavalier wields .

Although in that eternal cause t No liegemen ga her now ,

Or flowered dames to grant applause , Yet on his naked brow ’ The V ictor s laurels int erwreath ; But he no dower can bequeath But sword snapped sho rt and empty Sheath And errantry and vow !

Against his foolish innocence

No man alive can stand , Nor any giant drive him hence With sling o r club or brand Fo r where his angry bugle b lows There fall unconquerable foes ; Of mighty men o f w ar none knows

To stay hi s witless hand .

All legendary wars grow tame And every tale gives place [ 1 16]

IRELAND

ESIDE your bitter waters rise

The Mystic Rose , the Holy Tree ,

Immortal courage in your eyes ,

And pain and liberty .

The stricken arms , the cloven shields , t The trampled plumes , the sha tered The swords of your lost battlefields

To hopeless battles come .

And though your scattered remnants know

Thei r shameful rout , thei r fallen kings , t Yet shall the strong , vic orious foe Not understand these things

The broken ranks that never b reak ,

The merry road your rabble trod , The awful laughter they shall take

Before the throne o f God .

[ 1 1 8] IN MEMORIAM

PA TRICK HE N RY PEA RS E

x ecu t M a rd E ed y g , 1 91 6

R.I. P.

N this grey morn ing wrapped in mist and

e n sk You stood erect ben ath the sulle y,

A heart which held its peace and noble pain , A brave and gentle eye !

The last of all your silv er songs are sung ; Your fledgli ng dreams on b roken wi ngs dashed For suddenly a tragic sword was swung

And ten true rifles crashed .

By one wh o walks aloof in English ways B e this high word of prais e and so rrow

v He lived with honour all his lo ely days , ! And is immortal , dead

[ 1 1 9] MATER DESOLATA

To MA RGA RET PEARS E

0 ’ you the dreary night s long agony ,

The anguish , and the laden heart that broke

Its vase o f burning tears , the voiceless cry , And then the horror of that blindi ng stroke ! — To you all this and yet to you much more . God pressed into the chalice of your pain

A starry triumph , when the sons you bore

’ Were written on the roll of Ireland s slain .

Let no man touch your glorious heritage ,

Or pluck one p ang o f sorrow from your heart , Or stain with any pity the bright page ’ Emblazoning the holy martyrs part .

Ride as a queen your splendid destiny, Since death is swallowed up in victory !

[ 1 2 0]

THE ENSIGN

IGH up above the wooded ridge Beams out a round benignant moon Upon the village and the bridge h Through whic the slumberous waters croon .

N o w polished silver is the mill ;

And; clad in ghostly mysteries , The church tower glimmers on the

sad s Among the , abiding tree ;

And watched by its familia r star

so Sleeps each small house , still and white

From all the noise and blood of war,

0 Go d - , how far removed to night !

Unconscious o f their destiny How many drew this air fo r breath ; Here lived and loved and now they

The terrible , swift shape o f death .

n The bou ty o f these quiet skies ,

The tender beauty o f these lands ,

Still sheds a peace upon their eyes ,

A nd b inds thei r hearts and nerves hands . [ 1 2 2 ] THE ENSIGN they wh o only thought to know f is valley in the moonlight urled , heard immortal trumpets blow , d shake the pillars of the world !

[ 1 23 ] BALLADE OF ORCHARDS

HOUGH Jeshurun k icks and grows fatter

and fatter,

And chinks in his pockets the gold of his gain ,

Yet up in the gables the young sparrows chatter ,

The corn - fieldsare rich with the promise of

grain ,

The hedges are yellow , and (balm to the brain ! ) Their pink and white blossoms the cherry trees scatter Th e blo sso ming o rc hardso f E ngland re main!

t Long lines of our soldiers swing by with a cla ter ,

To die in their thousands by river and plain ,

In lands where the gathering loud torrents batter , They heap the hills high with heroical slain But far in the weald how the misty moons wane ! And deep in a silence no anger can shatter

Th e b lo sso ming o rc hardso f E ngland remain!

The world isa fool and as mad as a hatter

' A nd poets and lo v erswere sent her for bane [ 1 2 4 ]

A GREAT WIND

GREAT wind blows through the pine trees , A f clean salt wind rom sea , A loud wind full of all healing Blows kindly but boisterously

Oh , a good wind blows through the pine trees And the heart and mind of me !

A wind stirs the long grass lightly

And the dear young flowers of May, A nd blows in the English meadows The breath of a Summer ’ s day But this wind rings with honour

e And is wet with the cold sa spray .

There are straits where the tall ships founder

A nd no live thing may draw breath ,

Where men look at splendid , angry skies And hear what the thunder saith Where men look thei r last at glory b And ravely drink of death .

There is much a foot this evening

se a In these pine woods by the , [ 1 2 6] A GREA T W IND

branch shall endure until morning t is rotten on the tree y decayed thing endure in my soul

! n God ’ s wind blows through me !

[ 1 2 7] BIRTHDAY SONNET

OW shall I find the words of perfect praise , To give you back the gladness and the

mirth ,

With which you filled my hands , the lyri c days Your gracious bounty gave me in my dearth ?

My song fails on the wing, and yet I know

’ The meaning of Spring s living ecstasy, The laughing prophe cy the March winds blow

Among the buds , and through the heart of me .

I know , I know the rose and silver dress , Wherewith God clothed that clear and virginal

morn , f Which came to you in j oy ul gentleness ,

The hour of Shy delight when you were born .

I know the innocence and sweet surprise ,

The waiting earth made ready for your eyes .

M a c th 1 1 r h 27 , 9 7

[ 1 2 8]

AT YELVERTON

HEN into Yelverton I came

afl ame I found the bracken all ,

n tors in their u yielding line ,

n air as comforting as wi e ,

n sun swinging wind , the singi g

At Yelverton .

At Yelverton the moor iski n d

A n d b n lows its healing through my mi d , The hunchback skyli n e lies a mist O f purple and of amethyst , And up and down the smooth roads run

At Yelverton .

v At Yel erton a man may stand , The whole of Dev on within his

The tors in thei r austerity,

And far away the basking sea , A cloth of shining silv er spun

At Yel v erton .

At Yelverton a man may keep

Deep silence and a deeper sleep , [ 13 0 ] A T YEL V ER TON

Yet know the brave recurring dream O f kingly cider , queenly cream To bless him when his days are don e

At Yelverton .

[ 13 1] THE JOY OF THE WORLD

r O R your joy do the long grasses ustle , the

tree -tops stir Where the wind moves eagerly through the pine

and the fir ; Alert for your coming the woods and the mead ows all wait ; The buttercupsgrow and the turtle calls to his

mate .

And G o d for your clothing fashioned in patience

the sun , A cloak wrought o f glory and fire where dreadful

dyes run , ff Sa ron and crimson and sapphire and gold , as is meet ; And stars to be set on your head and stars under

your feet .

His Fo r you , most lovely o f daughters , the mighty God bowed From heaven to give you your dowry o f sunset and cloud ; [ 13 2 ]

THE J O Y OF THE W ORLD

And though the stars wane and the royal deep

colours should fade , Yet still shall endure in the heart and the lips of a

Maid , The sweep of the archangel ’ s pinions—the humble accord — — — The so ng the dim stab le the night and the birth of the Lord !

For your j oy do the long grasses rustle , the tree tops sti r Where the wind moves eagerly through the pine and the fi r ; Alert for your coming the woods and the meadows all wait ; The buttercupsgrow and the turtle calls to his

mate .

[ 13 4] G RATITU DE

I G o d OW shall answer and stand ,

n My naked li fe within my ha d , To plead upon the Judgment Day ? Seeing the glory in array O f cherubim and seraphim , What answer shall I give to Him ?

I was too dull of heart and sense

To read His cryptic providence , Its strange and intricate de v ice

W ashidden from my foolish eyes . My gratitude could not reach up

To the sharing of His awful cup , To the blindi ng light of mystery

And the painful pomp of sanctity .

But since as a happy child I went

With lo v e and laughter and content m Along the road of si ple things , Making no idle quest ionings

Since young and careless I did keep

The cool and cloistered halls of sleep , [ 13 5 ] GRA TI TUB E

And took my daily drink and food ,

Finding them very , very good G o d may perhaps be pleased to see

Such signs o f sheer felicity .

But if I somehow should be given

c His An atti in storied heaven , I ’ m sure I should be far apart

From Catherine o f the wounded heart,

Teresa of the fl aming soul ,

’ And Bruno s sevenfold aureole ,

’ And be told , of course , I m not to mix

With the Bernards o r the Domini cs , O r thru st my company upon

St . Michael or the great St . John .

Yet Go d may grant it me to sit And sing (with little skill o r w it ) My intimate canticleso f praise For all life ’ s dear and gracious days Though hardly a single syllab le

Of what St . Raphael has. to tell ,

The triumphs o f the cosmic wars , The raptu res and the j ewelled scars [ 13 6]

GRA TI TUB E

If in my baseness I let fall At once His cross and His carniv Then must I take my ungrateful To where the lakes of Hell burn

[ 13 8] ‘ IN DO MO JOHAN N IS

ERE rest the thin worn b andswhich fondled

Him ,

The trembling lips which magnified the Lord ,

Who looked upon His handmaid , the young , slim s Mary at her meek task , and here the sword Within the soul of her whose anguished eyes

Gazed at the stars which watch Gethsemane ,

And saw the sun fail in the stricken skies . In these dim rooms she guards the treasu ry — f Of her white memories the strange , sweet ace ’ More marred than any man s , the tender , fain

And eager words , the wistful human grace , e The mysteri s of glory, joy and pain ,

A nd f- so b f- that hope tremulous , hal , hal song , —! 0 Ringing through night How long, Lord , how

! l o ng ?

[ 13 9] AT WOODCHESTE R

ARK how a silver music falls Between these meek monastic And airy flute and psaltery Awaken heavenly melody !

Yet not to unentuned ears

May come the joyance of the spheres , A nd only humbled hea rts may see

The humble heart of mystery .

Where tread in light and lilting ways Bright angels through the dance ’ s maze On grassy floors to meet the just

In robes of woven diamond dust .

And j ewelled daisies burst to greet

’ The flutter o f the Blesse d sfeet Along the cloister’ s gathered gloom

Lilies and mystic roses bloom .

Grown in the hush o f hidden hours Thoughts fairer than the summer flowers

f n Li t up their sweet and livi g heads , Crystalline whites and sanguine reds !

FOR THEY SHALL POSSESS THE EARTH

’ OU who were beauty s w orshipper ,

Her ardent lover , in this place You have seen Beauty face to face ;

A nd known the wistful eyes of her ,

And kissed the hands of Poverty ,

And praised her tattered bravery .

v s You shall be humble , gi e your day

To silence and simplicity ; And solitude shall come to be The goal o f all your W inding ways ;

When pride and youthful pomp o f words

Fly far away like startled birds .

Possessing nothing, you shall know

The heart of all things in the earth ,

Their secret agonies and mirth ,

The awful innocence o f snow ,

The sadness of November leaves ,

The j oy o f fields o f girded sheaves .

A shelter from the driving rain Your high renouncement of desire ; Food it shall be and wine and fire ; [ 14 2 ] ! F OR THEY SHALL POSSESS THE EAR TH

A nd Peace shall enter once again As quietly as dreams in sleep

- The hidden trysting place you keep .

You shall grow humble as the grass , b b And patient as each slow , dum east ; And as their fellow—yea the least

Yield stoat and hedgehog room to pass ; And learn the ignorance o f men

Before the robin and the wren .

The things so terrible and sweet

t o sa You strove y in accents harsh ,

The frogs are croaking on the marsh , The crickets chirping at your feet

Oh , they can teach you unafraid

The meaning o f the songs you made .

Till clothed in white humilities , f Each happening that doth be all , o E ach thought o f y urs be musical ,

As wind is musical in the trees , When strong as sun and clean as dew b Your old dead songs come ack to you . [ 14 3 ] BALLA DE O F THE BEST SONG IN THE WORLD

KNOW a shea f of splendid so ngs b y heart Which sti r the blood or move the soul to

tears ,

’ O f n death or ho our or of love s sweet smart ,

The run es and legends of a thousand years ;

A nd some of them go plaintively and slow , A nd some are j olly like the earth in May But this is r eally the best song I knOW ’

I- tiddl -iddl - i- ti-iddl - a y y y y.

I sang it in a house - boat on the Dart

o f To several members o f the House Peers . The Editor of the E xc h ang e and M art

n (A man of taste ) stood up a d led the cheers . I carolled it at Christmas in the snow, I hummed it on my summer holiday

Doh- ray- me - fah - sol - la - fah- me -ray- doh

I- tiddl - iddl -i- ti-iddl -a y y y y.

It made a gathering o f Fab ians start f And put thei r ingers in their outraged ears .

n b They did not u derstand my su tle art ,

t n v ff But hough they o ly ga e me sco s and jeers , [ 14 4 ]

TAIL- PIECE

I BOY goes by the window while write ,

— l—in Whistling the little demon delight . I shake my fist and scowl at him , and curse

Over the carcase of my murdered verse . — is And yet which it that the world most needs , His happy laughter or my threadbare screeds ? There is more poetry in being young Than in the finest song that Shakespeare sung ’ — And i f that s true of godlike Shakespeare well ,

Whistle the Marseillaise , and ring the bell ,

n - And chase the cat , and lose your ten is ball ,

A n d tear your trousers on the garden wall ,

n Scalp a Red Indian , sail the Spa ish seas

Do any mortal thing you damn well please .

[ 14 6] HEN all the world was black

Your courage did not fail ; No laughter did you lack

Or fellowship or ale .

An d you have made defeat

A nobler pageantry, Your bitterness more sweet Than is their victory

For by your stricken lips A gallant song is sung ;

o ff J y su ers no eclipse ,

Is lyrical and young ,

Is rooted in the sod ,

Is ambient in the air , Since Hope lifts up to God

The escalade o f prayer .

The t yrants and the kings

In purple splendour ride , But all ironi c things Go marching at your side [ 14 7] A V E

To nerve your hands with To salt your souls with s Till that awaited hour When Freedom shall be

[ 14 8]

A REPL Y

Hi shomespun dress ,

Hunger , thirst and the wilderness .

To a slave ’ s death

’ He gave his broken body s breath ; A n outcast hung

The swart and venomous thieves among.

And still yields He G odhead to our humanity, Leaving for sign Himself in the meek bread

[ 15 0] JOB

AN flesh and blood contrive defence ’ Gainst swords that pierce the spirit

through , h Or meet , not knowing w y o r whence , The blind bolt crashing from the blue ?

Oh , men have held times out o f mind Thei r stern and stoic courage bright

But if no cry comes on the wind , How shall I face the ambushed night ?

t o How shall I turn bay , and stand

I e e To grapple , if cannot s

My fierce assailant at my hand , The high look o f mine enemy ?

If He will answer me , with rod And plague and thunder let Him come But how can man dispute with G o d ? Who writes no book , whose voice is dumb

Who rings me round with prison bars I Through which peer with sleepless eyes , [ 1 5 1 ] And see the enigmatic stars — These only in the iron skies .

? Th ese o nly These together sang A t the glad birthday of the earth When all the courts of Heaven rang With shouting and angelic mirth !

The night enfolds you with a clo ak O f silence and of chill affright ?

’ But when man s wells of laughter broke , Who gave man singing in ' the night ?

The Rod shall burst to flowers and fruit A ’ Richer than grew on aron s rod ,

And Mercy clothe you head to foot , Beloved and smitten of your G o d !

[ 1 5 2 ]

TO THE DEAD

OW lays the king hiscrown and sceptre

down , ff Her gown of ta eta the lovely bride , his The knight his sword , cap and bells the clown , The poet all his verse ’ s pomp and pride b The eloquent , the beauti ful , the rave

Descend reluctant to the straight , cold grave .

No more shall shine for them the glorious rose ,

Or sunsets stain with red and awful gold ,

Night shall no more for them her stars disclose ,

Or day the grandeur o f the Downs unfold , Or those eyes dull in death watch solemnly

The regal splendour of the Sussex sea .

For them the ringing surges are in va in They wake not at the cry of waking bird

r The sun , the holy hill , the f uitful rain , The winds have called them and they have not

stirred ;

The woods are widowed of your eager tread , O dear and desolate and dungeoned dead ! [ 15 4 ] TO THE DEAD

Yet you shall rest awhile in English earth ,

,And ripen many a pleasant English field

’ Through the green Summer to the Autumn s mirth And flower unconsciously upon the weald

Until that last angelic word be said , the shut graves deliver up their dead !

[ 15 5] 1916 SPRING ,

HE grey and wrinkled earth again is young And lays aside her tattered wi nter weeds

- Fo r April coloured gauze , and gives her tongue

’ To jocund songs instead of pedants screeds .

Scatter the thin , white ashes of the hearth , And throw the brilliant diamond casement wide h ! O , wonder of the lonely garden garth

Oh , golden glory of the steep hillside Where fl ames the living loveliness o f God !

o ff But fa r, far , beyond the bloom and bud A fiercer blossom burgeons from the sod Bright with the hues of honour and of blood A nd men have plucked the sanguine fl ower of pain Where violets might be growing in the rain !

[ 15 6]

FU L F IL MENT

(An Inscription for a B o o k of Po ems)

U who will hold these gathered songs ,

o e Made , darling , long bef re w met, vMust keep the prophecy whi ch belongs

so set To those dear eyes , strangely

With peace and laughter , where fulfils if he rapture o f my alien hills .

U t nknown , unknown you sof ly trod m s A ong my fruitful silence ,

The last and splendid gi ft of God . O The quest of all my dysseys , The meaning o f those quiet lands

I n Where fou d comfort at your hands .

And when the yellowing woods awake , ’ s t s And small bird twi tered love are told ,

run When streams silver , and there break s The crocuse to tender gold , s When quick light wind shall stir my hair ,

o Some p art of y u will wander there .

[ 1 5 8] PROPHECY

Y eyes look out across the dim grey wold , sk The grey y and the grey druidic trees , Knowing they keep inviolate the gold Memories of summer and the prophecies That lie imprisoned in the buried seeds O f all the lyric gaiety o f Spring . The sun shall ride again his flaming steeds ;

The dragon - fly dance past on diamond wing ; The earth distil to music ; and the rose Flaunt her impassioned loveliness and be A symbol o f the singing hour that blows The tall ship and my gladnesshome to me

! When I shall cry Awake , my heart , awake , And deck yourself in beauty fo r her sake ! THE SINGE R TO HIS LA DY

F any song I sing for you should be

’ But made to please a poet s vanity, A richly jewelled and an empty cup f In which no hallowed wine is o fered up , A thing of chosen rhyme and cunning phrase , Fashioned that it may bring its maker praise ;

If love in me grow only soft and sweet , Remembering not with what worn and weary feet

t o fi It journeyed your elds of golden grain ,

The quiet orchards folded in the rain , The twilight gardens and the morning birds ;

v an If lo e remembers not d brings you words , Words as your thanks ; i f in an idle hour It breaksits sword and plays the troubadour

G o d v Then may high , the Uni ersal Lord ,

asI n b Break me , false k ight have roken my sword , If I who have touched your handsshould bring eclipse ’ b To love s no ility with lying lips , Having seen more terrible than gleaming spears ! Your gentleness , your sorrow and your tears

[ 1 60]

FEAR

READ softly ; we are on enchanted groun d

One touch and every hidden thing lies bare ,

se a The deep sundered , suddenly unbound Th e awful thunders instinct in the air l

t e e Oh , hese w know ; but what if w should break

A secret spell as easily as glass , And stumble on their sleeping wrath and wake The armies and the million blades of grass ?

And find more dread than whirlwinds round o ur

head, ’ f The sweep of sparrows i erce , avenging wings ,

The anger of wild roses burning red , The terrible hate of earth’ s most helpless things ?

Tt 62 ] CHARITY

HO think o f charity asmilky-eyed Know not of God’ s great handmaid’ s

terrible name ,

Who comes in garments by the rainbow dyed , And crowned and winged and c harioted with

fl ame .

u For Tr th and Justice ride abroad with her , And Honour ’ s trumpets peal before her face The high archangels stand and minister

she sit When doth within her holy place .

None knoweth in t h e depth nor in the height G ’ What meaneth Charity , od s secret word , s But kis her feet , and veil thei r burning sight

B efo re her naked heart , her naked sword .

[ 163 ] SIGHT AND INSIGHT

HIS hour God’ s darkest mysteries

Are plainer than the screeds of men , Tangled and false philosophies

b n Fashioned y lyi g tongue and pen .

Plain as those bastions o f cloud ,

Kind as the wide and kindly skies , And in the wild winds shouting loud The truths concealed from pedants ’

ho Pages which he may read w runs ,

Where no unlettered man may fail , Candid as are hisnoonday suns

Familiar as his cheese and ale . W Him , hom our eyes may see , our ears

Hear , Whom our groping hands may touch

fi man ears Him we shall nd ere y y , '

And finding fear not overmuch .

W h o gave me simple things to keep ,

v Laughter and lo e and memories ,

A farm , and meadows full o f sheep ,

And quiet gardens full o f bees , [ 164]

CHRISTMAS CAROL

AY quietly Thy kingly head 0 mighty weakness from on high

God rest Thee in Thy manger -bed

Sing L ullo - lullo - lullaby O Splendour hid fromevery eye

L a-lullo - lullo - lullaby!

Ye mild and humble cattle , yield Room for my little so n to lie ; Your God and mine ishere revealed

' S zng L ullo - lullo - lullaby N aked beneath a naked sky

L a-lullo -lullo - lullaby!

sn Deal kindly with Him , moon and u ; No bird to Him a song deny Ye winds and showers every one

Sing L ullo -lullo - lullaby For men shall cast Him out to die ” L a-lullo -lullo -lullabyI A GARDEN ENCLOSED

HE RE is a plot where all the winds are still ,

A hidden garden where no voice is heard , Only a splashing fountain and the shrill

Sweet clamour of a bird .

The poplars guard like tall , grave sentinels Its peace inviolate ; and in the tower With careful ritu al ring out the bells

The end o f each dead hour .

Laburnums , hollyhocks and roses run — By secret paths but w ho shall burst the

see— ssun Oh , who shall except the curiou And all the peering stars ?

o And Thou and Thou , my L ve , for whom I keep

My heart a watered garden , all Thine own ,

Where flowers my guardian angel tends in sleep , ! Bright summer blooms , are grown

e — s Come , my Belov d , come behold , the skie Are fragrant with t he evening scents and dew !

My soul hath sickened for Thy lips and eyes , And laden is with rue ! [ 1 67] A GARDEN EN CL OSED

l Oh , Thou sha t fly with soft wings lik And hold me fast beyond all fate ’ A nd we mid flowers shall tell our fl o W here no one else can hear !