A Passing
A WHIRLING of dead leaves,
A gathering in of sheaves,
The stripping of the trees,
The ebbing of the seas,
The shifting of the sands,
A vision of far lands …
A sundering and a thundering
Of prison bars that fall!
The answer to a call
New destiny to shape …
A silence … and a breath …
We call it—Death!
Nor dare to say—Escape!
Other Poems
Spring
A CHILD has passed through the woods today,
Hush! You shall find him there at play!
See—snowdrops scattered in the glade,
And nestling close in childlike grace,
The crocus lifts his chubby face,
Serene and unafraid!
And out on the downs
In their straight green gowns
The daffodils wait … Whilst hidden quite
The shy blue violets in delight
Peer forth to tempt his careless hand …
And the Child who passes by today goes laughing through the land!
A Child has passed through the city street,
Follow the track of his little feet …
Golden-hued baskets on the curb,
A lifted head and a brightened eye
As the busy worker passes by
And the flowers his thoughts disturb …
A sudden stir
In the wintry air!
A tired heart that knows a gleam
Of strange sweet joy … A transient dream
Of all the things that might have been …
And a Child who passes through the street—who passes all unseen …
Stay, Child! What is thy name?
Whence art thou come? Who gave thee birth?
My Mother, the Earth
Bore me in joy!
She, the All Wise
Fashioned my limbs
In this fair guise
Without alloy.
Who is thy Father?
The Breath of a Flame!
In the Future is written the Might of his Name …
Offspring am I of the Seen and Unseen,
Of that which shall come, and of that which hath been!
Wisdom of Ages—and Promise of Dawn,
Calling to life all the life yet unborn,
Lo! in the CHILD is the Hope of the Earth!
So shall I pass—bringing Spring and Rebirth!
Young Morning
NIGHT gave me birth, and to my fashioning went
Fear and Unrest, Hate that will not relent,
Pain, and a Joy too keen to face the light,
Passion, Desire, and Mystery of Night …
A wreath of stars is set upon my brow,
And, twining round my feet, pale lilies grow,
My body has the beauty of the Moon,
Its slender whiteness girt with holy rune.
My heart is full of doubts that softly wake,
Longings not understood—the strange sweet ache
Of unfulfilled desire … Dreamful of Fate,
Veiled in my nightblack hair, I stand and wait!
This is my hour!
Eternity itself halts on its ceaseless round,
And all the world halts with it for a little spell,
And in the quivering stillness comes the sound
Of all the secret music that I love so well:
The sighs of lovers, and the haunting cry
Of tawny beasts, and the awakening call
Of drowsy baby birds in nests so high …
My outspread arms rule over all!
This is my hour!
The stars around my head have paled away,
The lily buds are opening gold and gay,
From out the slumbering hills there cometh One
Most glorious without—within—the Sun!
About my limbs the purple mists unfold,
Upon my head—a Crown of Blood and Gold!
And I am wrapped in rich and varied hue,
Crimson and rose, and faintest starry blue …
What is this strange new anguish in my heart?
See—where the mists of morning slowly part
My Lover comes! His banners bravely borne
And greets me in the burning Kiss of Dawn!
Give me my hour within my Lover’s arms!
Vanished the doubts, the fears, the sweet alarms!
I lose myself within his quickening Breath …
And when he tires and leaves me—there is Death …
Hymn to Ra
From the West we came,
To the West we shall return!
Ra! Giver of all! Listen and hear!
Hark to Thy People’s Oath! Thus do we swear!
We will return to the West
There, to the Land of the Blest,
There whence we came …
From the West we came,
To the West we shall return!
Ra! Light of the World! Keep our Faith pure!
We are the chosen Race! We shall endure!
Slaves are the Black and the White!
Great are the Red in Thy sight!
Lords of the World!
From the West we came,
To the West we shall return!
Ra! Red is Thy Light! Mighty Thy Heat!
Thou shalt set every nation under our feet!
We who are Builders in Stone,
Forgers of Metal unknown,
Rulers of All!
From the West we came,
To the West we shall return!
Ra! We are Thy Sons! Thus ’tis decreed:
“With our own kind will we mate, we and our seed.
In whose veins runs the blood of a slave
He shall go down to the grave!”
Lest we grow weak.
From the West we came,
To the West we shall return!
Ra! Father of Strength! Thou who art Life!
Guide Thou our spears in the battle, prosper our Strife!
Yet, when the fight is o’er,
Let us return once more
Back to the West …
A Palm Tree in the Desert
IN the Desert I stand
Alone—always alone …
Whilst around me the shifting sands
Change not from day to day.
And now and again from the far-off lands
Comes a breath that lifts my leaves
In unquenchable hope …
Then, sighing, they sink once more to their rest …
Here by the pool in the Desert
The camels halt and kneel,
Patient and weary …
And the Men of the Desert turn to the East
At the hour of the Midday prayer.
Their weariness stayed and refreshed,
They pass from my sight far into the North,
And only the sands,
The shifting sands of the Desert
Are left …
I have lived through one passionate hour!
Sirocco—Wind of the South—
Like an Avenger came!
Where he had passed
None lifted their heads again …
He clasped me close,
Scorched by his breath,
Tortured in joy,
I gave myself up to be seared and devoured!
A mist of hot sand rose around us
Veiling us close …
Then, like a Flame
Onward he rushed to the North
In that Column of whirling and eddying sand
Which is Death …
Sirocco—Breath of the Desert!
When shalt thou come again?
Return! Return!
The day of Khamsen is past …
And I am left
Here by the pool in the Desert
Alone … always alone …
World Hymn 1914
THUNDER of guns and clash of steel!
Fashion it out with lathe and with wheel.
These are the masters of men today,
Men who created, and men who pay.
A hum in the sky
Where the war birds fly,
Battle, murder, and sudden death,
Women who pray with a catch in their breath,
The God of War is nigh!
Thunder of guns, and clash of steel!
Women who work, and women who kneel,
Crying aloud: “How long, how long?
Before the right shall defeat the wrong?”
Silence and Peace,
Rest and Release!
Hearts that are fainting beneath the strain
Call upon Heaven in passionate pain,
Call to the God of Peace.
Thunder of guns, and clash of steel!
All the way through, for woe or for weal,
The throb of a People’s heart that is breaking,
The stir of a People’s soul that is waking …
And beneath the roar
Of the weapons of war,
A Silence set in the midst of Sound …
And a Voice that shall never again be drowned …
The Unknown God is speaking …
Easter 1918
LET us today know only great rejoicing,
Nor mourn our gallant dead, so young and gay
Like Easter flowers
That stand in youthful vigour straight and golden,
Those Easter flowers which fill the world today!
Let now be ours
The wider vision (though our eyes be holden)
The deeper understanding that shall see
Death as a change which comes at Life’s beginning,
A joyous rushing of young souls set free …
Let us not mar the splendour of their going!
Their loving and their laughter shall not cease.
So shall we almost hear, for ever growing
Out of the silent darkness day by day,
The rushing sound of a triumphant massing!
Oh! let us then acclaim that valiant passing
Which some call Death—and others name Release!
To a Beautiful Old Lady
DRIED roseleaves for your lips,
Grey ashes for your hair,
Cold sapphires for your shrewd old eyes
Which looked on life so calmly wise
And never knew a tear.
Old ivory for your arms
Which never held a child.
Your cheek is smooth as Dresden ware
With ne’er a line to tell of care,
You—who have watched and smiled!
So Pain has passed you by,
And Love and Toil and Sin …
You’ve dwelt within a self-built wall,
And when the shell shall break and fall
There’s emptiness within …
Wild Roses
I KNOW
Where the wild roses grow
Beside the lake.
The little spirits come and play,
And pink and white
Dance in the light
Before the break of day!
The sun comes up in golden heat,
The roses open wide … and fall …
And that is all …
Except I think I hear a sound
Along the ground,
Of many little pattering feet …
No more
Shall my wild rose of yore
Walk by the lake.
She told me where the rose sprites were
And how they played
All undismayed
By her sweet presence there!
Then Death rose up twixt her and me!
She turned her, smiling, to his call …
And that is all …
Except I cannot bear to go
Where roses grow
Beside the lake—so wild and free …
Love Passes
LOVE passes! On the hearth dead embers lie
Where once there burned a fire of living flame,
Where we, starved children, sheltering in shame,
Stretched out our hands, and let the world go by,
Warming our frozen hearts in ecstasy
And dreaming Love should always be the same …
In vain your pity! And in vain my blame!
Love passes—and we know not whence or why …
Love passes out into the silent night,
We may not hold him who has served our will
And, for a while, made magic common things …
Now, like a bird, he spreads his wings in flight,
And we are left in darkness—listening still
To the faint far-off beating of his wings …
Progression
LOVE comes as the Spring comes
Fearing …
Dreading …
The brown boughs are in blossom;
A breath of frost,
A wind from the leas,
And the blossom would fall …
But close to the earth
The tiny common flowers
Blossom unheeded …
Summer!
And love …
Stillness
And at the heart of the Stillness
A throb …
Flame!
Flame in the Forest!
Flame in my heart!
Lover of mine
Never was love such as ours
Ecstasy …
Joy …
Passion …
Pain …
Closer, O heart of mine …
Closer yet …
Your lips …
In the Forest the leaves are on fire,
Spendthrift and reckless their joy!
Riot of life!
What was that strange dry sound?
A leaf that crackled beneath my feet
Withered and brown …
Closer, O heart of mine.
I am afraid …
Your lips …
Wintertime
Peace
Dead heart
(Or asleep?)
A touch?
A kiss?
What are these that they leave me so cold?
Emptiness
Death …
A bird in the wood,
Now do I surely know that I shall awake!
Return once more to love and delight,
Springtime will come again,
The almond trees blossom once more …
And yet I weep,
For never again shall I tread love’s ways with you …
Farewell, O Lover of mine,
Our day is done.
Wintertime
Peace
O lover of mine that I loved,
Farewell …
There Where My Lover Lies
THERE where my lover lies,
A King palm at his head,
The earth is warm and kind,
A little whispering wind
Comes from the hills,
Lingers in passing … and then dies …
There where my lover lies
Greeting the dead …
No frangipani flow’rs,
Honeyed and sweet,
Shall mock our radiant hours,
But at his feet
Night blooming Cereus grows …
You were a king, my love, and I
In the far North lie nightly down to die.
Then, on your grave, a thousand flowers are born,
Wide cups of white
Filled with delight,
Lasting their radiant hour to dawn!
There lies my lover—dead,
A King palm at his head,
Night Cereus at his feet,
The night is all too fleet …
&nbs
p; POEMS
Things
Beauty
THE earth is Beauty and also longing;
Without desire and incompleteness
There is no Beauty.
Only the undreamt dream knows significance,
Only the vision we do not see has essential form;
Beauty is a vision imperfectly seen,
Beauty is the sound our ears hear only partly.
There is a stillness in the heart of sound.
Let me escape into that stillness
Which is Nothing and Everything;
Let me escape from the sharp pain of Beauty
For Beauty is a sword that pierces the heart;
Then shall I be the End and the Beginning,
Then shall I be Myself and Everyone
And also No one.
Beauty will not exist …
Beauty is here and now,
It is not hereafter …
The Water Flows
THE water flows
Peacefully along …
Under the trees
Like a song
Unsung.
Peacefully the water flows
Under the trees,
Brown water deep and cool,
Like beautiful words
That no one has said.
For the lips that might have spoken them
Are dead,
But the words are there still
In the stream,
Carried along
With the silent song …
Gentle winding stream
Under the trees,
You are like a dream
That might have been dreamt
But the dreamer awoke
Too soon …
The dream is here
In the stream,
Carried along
With the song
And the words
That are too lovely to be said.
The stream ripples and murmurs,
It talks as it flows,
But it is not the stream that I hear,
It is the deep dream and the song and the rhythm of beautiful words.
They are there
Under the trees
Flowing along …
O song,
O words,
O dream,
You do not only seem,
You are there in the deep reality of final peace.
The Sculptor
IN silence beauty will take form and grow …
In silence, in a dark place will beauty stand
Deathless—eternal—with an outstretched hand.
Star over Bethlehem Page 8
