The Tale Of Mad Bridgid

AND then
There rung a bell out of the evening air :
One big star fell
In a long golden flare through a great stillness,
And he was standing there.
There came a chillness creeping through me slow,
Nor could I know that it was truly he
Who stood beside, when, lo,
He smiled, and I was made to know,
Nor hesitate because of his grave kingliness and state,
And steady eyes and brows immaculate.
But then the weight
Of his too sudden glory bowed me down
Slow to the ground.
I feared that he might frown without a sound,
Or speak in fire.
Then he said "sweet," and I was dumb ;
I dared not come because of my desire ;
And he went slow away.
And from the grey, cold evening came the tweet,
Sad to my heart, but infinitely sweet,
Of some late flying wren.

Insurrections [1909]

The Red-Haired Man's Wife

I HAVE taken that vow—
     And you were my friend
But yesterday—now
     All that's at an end,
And you are my husband, and claim me, and I
     must depend.

Yesterday I was free,
     Now you, as I stand,
Walk over to me
     And take hold of my hand.
You look at my lips, your eyes are too bold,
     your smile is too bland.

My old name is lost,
     My distinction of race :
Now the line has been crossed,
     Must I step to your pace ?
Must I walk as you list, and obey, and smile up
     in your face ?

All the white and the red
     Of my cheeks you have won ;
All the hair of my head,
     And my feet, tho' they run,
Are yours, and you own me and end me just as
     I begun.

Must I bow when you speak,
     Be silent and hear,
Inclining my cheek
     And incredulous ear
To your voice, and command, and behest, hold
     your lightest wish dear ?

I am woman, but still
     Am alive, and can feel
Every intimate thrill
     That is woe or is weal.
I, aloof, and divided, apart, standing far, can I
     kneel?

O, if kneeling were right,
      I should kneel nor be sad,
And abase in your sight
     All the pride that I had,
I should come to you, hold to you, cling to you,
     call to you, glad.

If not, I shall know,
     I shall surely find out,
And your world will throw
     In disaster and rout ;
I am woman and glory and beauty, I mystery,
     terror, and doubt.

I am separate still,
     I am I and not you :
And my mind and my will,
     As in secret they grew,
Still are secret, unreached and untouched and
     not subject to you.

Insurrections [1909]

The Whisperer

THE moon was round,
And as I walked along
There was no sound,
Save where the wind with long
Low hushes whispered to the ground
     A snatch of song.

No thought had I
Save that the moon was fair,
And fair the sky,
And God was everywhere.
I chanted as the wind went by
     A poet's prayer.

Then came a voice—
" Why is it that you praise
And thus rejoice,
O stranger to the ways
Of Providence ? God has no choice
     In this sad maze.

"His law He laid
Down at the dread beginning,
When He made
The world and set it spinning,
And His casual hand betrayed
     Us into sinning.

'I fashion you,
And then for weal or woe,
My business through,
I care not how ye go,
Or struggle, win or lose, nor do
     I want to know.

'Is no appeal,
For I am far from sight,
And cannot feel
The rigour of your plight ;
And if ye faint just when ye kneel,
     That, too, is right.'

"Then do not sing,
poet in the night,
That everything
Is beautiful and right.
What if some wind come now and fling
     At thee in spite?"

All in amaze
1 listened to the tone
Mocking my praise :
And then I heard the groan
That old tormented nature did upraise
     From tree and stone.

And as I went
I heard it once again,
That harsh lament :
And fire came to my brain ;
Deep anger unto me was lent
     To write this strain.

Insurrections [1909]

Chill of the Eve

A LONG, green swell
Slopes soft to the sea,
And a far-off bell
Swings sweet to me,
As the grey, chill day
     Slips away from the lea.

Spread cold and far,
Without one glow
From a mild, pale star,
Is the sky's steel bow,
And the grey, chill day
     Slips away below.

That green tree grieves
To the air around,
And the whispering leaves
Have a lonely sound,
As the grey, chill day
     Slips away from the ground.

The long grass bends
With a rippling rush
To the soft, white ends
Where the roots are lush,
And the grey, chill day
     Slips away in a hush.

Down by the shore
The slow waves twine
From the rock-strewn floor
To the shell-edged line,
And the grey, chill day
     Slips away with a whine.

And dark, more dark,
The shades settle down,
Far off is a spark
From the lamp-lit town,
And the grey, chill day
     Slips away with a frown.

Insurrections [1909]

What Tomas An Buile Said In A Pub

I SAW GOD. Do you doubt it?
     Do you dare to doubt it?
I saw the Almighty Man. His hand
Was resting on a mountain, and
He looked upon the World and all about it :
I saw him plainer than you see me now,
     You mustn't doubt it.

He was not satisfied ;
     His look was all dissatisfied.
His beard swung on a wind far out of sight
Behind the world's curve, and there was light
Most fearful from His forehead, and He sighed,
"That star went always wrong, and from the start
     I was dissatisfied."

He lifted up His hand—
     I say He heaved a dreadful hand
Over the spinning Earth, then I said,"Stay,
You must not strike it, God ; I'm in the way ;
And I will never move from where I stand."
He said, "Dear child, I feared that you were dead,"
     And stayed His hand.

Insurrections [1909]

Nature

NOT altogether cruel I,
Who weave the sunbeams through the air,
I paint the many-tinted sky
And curl a baby's hair.

I teach the field mouse how to gnaw,
I tell the wind what song to sing,
I form the alligator's jaw,
And give the bee its sting.

I mould the beak of hawk and crow,
I roll the ocean in its cup,
I show the grass the way to grow,
And bid the oak-tree up.

The brain that made the kindly teat
At which the lion's whelp has hung,
The fount of kine has made as fit
For comfort of their young.

And if the lion's paw be strong,
Or tooth of tiger fierce to grind,
The antelope can leap along
Leaving their strength behind.

And from my varied'storehouse I
Antagonisms still must draw ;
I make the spider and the fly
And tell to each the law.

For one I weave a web to snare
And fashion limbs to clutch and slay ;
The other's wings can 'scape the lair
And seek afield its prey.

Ye moan that all your lives ye work,
Spending yourselves for petty doles ;
That charity dare scarcely lurk
Within your hungry souls ;

That in the frenzied fight for food
Ye dare not do a kindly deed ;
That I say harsh ye must be lewd,
And live and die by greed.

Ye curse me sore, and say I give
And take away what thing I gave ;
Ye cry that ere ye've learned to live
Your feet are in the grave.

I nothing give ; myself I lend
To each one till his day is o'er ;
Then take again my loan, and spend
It through another door.

Still everything in balance true
Works on the lines primeval set,
The rabbit to the lion grew,
And man is growing yet.

For all ye do ye do to scale
By plan made ere your clay was new ;
And even when ye seem to fail,
I know the work is true.

Your love and hate, your peace and strife,
The little charities ye prize,
All further on the trend of life,
And help ye still to rise.

Be sure the life next on the rung
Will hold your sense in small repute,
And wonder could its wit have sprung
From such a foolish root.

And after them the long array
Will live and die in peace or strife,
Will laud the wisdom of their day,
And rail at me and life.

Of life and death ye sadly rave,
Tho' life and death are but the one,
For life is life e'en in the grave,
And death is life in pawn.

The why and wherefore, whence and where,
Are hid to you, are hid to me,
All blindly we ascend the stair
And bend the humble knee.

I sweat in labour just like man ;
What thing I do I blindly do ;
Obediently to higher plan,
I kiss the rod with you.

And I and Death and Time and You,
Will work together till the end
Has justified the work we do,
And nothing's left to mend.

Then life will be alive, and Time
Will mould you to your final shape,
And God will show you how to climb
To heaven through the ape.

Insurrections [1909]

The Street Behind Yours

THE night droops down upon the street
Shade after shade.     A solemn frown
     Is pressing to
     A deeper hue
The houses drab and brown,
Till each in blackness touch and meet,
Are mixed and melted down.

All is so silent. Not a sound
Comes through the dark. The gas-lamps show
     From here and there
     In feeble glare
The pavement cracked below,
And the greasy, muddy ground,
And the houses in a row.

Those rigid houses: black and sour.
Each dark, thin building stretching high.
     Rank after rank
     Of windows blank
Stare from a sullen eye,
With doleful aspect scowl and glower
At the timid passer-by.

And down between those spectre files,
The narrow roadway, thick with mud,
     Doth crouch and hide,
     While close beside
The gutter churns a flood
Of noisome water through the piles
Of garbage thick as blood.

And tho' 'tis silent, tho' no sound
Crawls from the blackness thickly spread,
     Yet darkness brings
     Grirn, noiseless things
That walk as they were dead.
They glide, and peer, and steal around,
With stealthy, silent tread.

You dare not walk ; that awful crew
Might speak or laugh as you pass by,
     Might touch and paw
     With a formless claw,
Or leer from a sodden eye,
Might whisper awful things they knew,
Or wring their hands and cry.

See, in the doorway, squatting there
Back in the blackness, rocking slow—
     That a babe can rest
     On the battered breast
She urges to and fro,
She croons no song, she prays no prayer,
If any such she know.

She rocks and looks with a fixed eye
Out from the black cave where she sits
     Silent as stone,
     Nor makes a moan
To the silent hour that flits,
Nor droops one dreary, heart-wrung sigh,
But stares through hell-dark pits.

Heaven send she has no thoughts to sear
Through the drear stretches of the night,
     Sweetness of smiles,
     And childish wiles,
A future beckoning bright,
When the hands of a man held nought of fear
And the lips on her lips were light.

There is the doorway mean and low,
And there are the houses drab and brown,
     And the night's black pall,
     And the hours that crawl,
And the forms that peer and frown,
And the lamp's dim flare on the slush below,
And the gutter grumbling down.

Insurrections [1909]

The Dancer

I WILL not dance :
I say I will not dance.
Your audience, pah, let them go home again,
Sleek, ugly pigs.     Am I to hop and prance
     As long as they will pay,
     And posture for their eyes, and lay
My womanhood before them?     Let them drain
Their porter pots and snuffle — I'll not stay.

For he is dead :
I tell you he is dead.
My God, did you not hear me say it
Twice already?     I held his groaning head
     In these remembering arms,
     And cursed the charms
That could not stop his going.     Must I bay it
Like a dog to you?     Quit your alarms!

They shout and stamp?
Then, let them shout and stamp,
Those booted hogs and lechers — I'm away
To sit beside my dead.     O God, you tramp
     Upon me too, and twine
     More sorrows round me than are mine
With holy unconcern. . .     Don't bar my way,
I'm going to my dead . . .     Ah-h-h, stamping swine !.

Insurrections [1909]

Evening

The drowsy sun went slowly to his rest
Gathering all his dusty gold again
Into one place:
He did not leave a trace
Upon the sky except one distant stain,
Scarce to be seen, upon the quiet west :
So evening came, and darkness, and the sound
Of moving feet upon the whispering ground.

Like timid girls the shades went pacing down
The spreading slopes apparelled soberly
In vestments grey ;
And far away
The last red colour faded to a brown,
So faint, so far, the eye could scarce it see :
And then the skirts of evening swung upon
That distant little light, and it was gone.

The bee sped home, the beetle's wing of horn
Went booming by, the darkness every side
Gathered around
On sky and air and ground ;
And all the pliant trees sang far and wide
In cadenced lift of leaves a song of morn :
And then the moon's white circle, faint and thin,
Looked steady on the earth —  there is no sin.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The Lake

He could see the little lake
Cuddled on a mountain's arm,
And the rushes were a'shake,
On the margin of the lake.

And the gloom of evening threw
On the surface of the lake,
Just a shadow on the blue
Where the night came creeping through.

There was silence all around,
Not a whisper stirred the lake,
And the trees made not a sound
Standing silent in the ground.

Then a moon of beauty swept
One slim finger on the lake,
And the glory of it crept
Past the lilies where they slept,

And just where a lily flung
It's broad flag upon the lake
Was a dead face pale and young
And the wet hair spread and swung ;

And the moon beamed mild and dim
On that dead face in the lake,
Then it grew fierce, wide and grim,
And a mad moon glared at Him.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

Spring

I can see
The buds have come again,
And every tree
Through some dear intercourse of sun and dew,
And thrilling root, and folding earth, anew
Is clad in beauty.

They, up to the sun,
As on a breast, are lifting every one
Their baby leaves :
The sparrows underneath the eaves
Are making love :
There is a chatter in the woods above
Where the black crow
Is telling what his sweetheart wants to know —

For the sun is shining fair,
And the green is on the tree.
And the wind is everywhere
Whispering so secretly :
You will die unless you do
Find a mate to whisper to.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The Cow

Cow, Cow,
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes :
You are lying on the grass
Eating every time I pass,
And you do not seem to be
Ever in perplexity :
You are good I'm sure, and not
Fit for nothing but the pot :
For your bearing is so kind,
And your quietness so wise :
Cow, Cow,
I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The River

There was a river that rose
  in the cool of the morn,
It leaped down the side of the mountain,
  and ran through the meadows and corn :
But it came at the last to a cave
  by the edge of the sea,
And it fell through the darkness, and
  vanished
Forever from me.

I am sad for the river that fell
  through the darkness away;
From the fields full of corn, from the sun,
  from the light of the day :
I could weep for the river that danced
  in the light of the day,
And sunk through the darkness, and
  vanished
Forever away.

From 1913 - Five New Poems

The Horse

A sparrow hopped about the street,
  And he was not a bit afraid;
He flew between a horse's feet,
  And ate his supper undismayed:
I think myself the horse knew well
  The bird came for the grains that fell.

For his eye was looking down,
  And he danced the corn about
In his nose-bag, till the brown
  Grains of corn were tumbled out;
And I fancy that he said,
  "Eat it up, young Speckle-Head!"

The driver then came back again,
  He climbed into the heavy dray;
And he tightened up the rein,
  Cracked his whip and drove away.
But when the horse's ribs were hit,
  The sparrow did not care a bit.

What The Snake Saw

A little girl and a big ugly man
  Went down the road. The girl was crying
And asking to go home, but when she ran
  He hit her on the head and sent her flying,
And called her a young imp, and said he'd break
  Her neck unless she went with him, and then
He smacked her on the cheek.—I was a snake
  At that time crawling through a robber's den,
And diamonds were sticking to my tongue—
  (That's the best dodge), but when I saw the way
He beat the little girl I up and flung
  A stone at him. My aim was bad that day
Because I hit the girl ... and she did sing!
But he jumped round and cursed like anything.

The Old Man

An old man sat beneath a tree
  Alone;
So still was he
  That, if he had been carved in stone,
He could not be
  More quiet or more cold:
He was an ancient man
  More than
A thousand ages old.

The Cow

          Cow, Cow!
          I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes
You are lying on the grass
Eating every time I pass,
And you do not seem to be
Ever in perplexity:
You are good I'm sure, and not
Fit for nothing but the pot:
For your bearing is so kind,
And your quietness so wise:
          Cow, Cow!
          I and thou
Are looking at each other's eyes.

The Coral Island

His arms were round a chest of oaken wood,
  It was clamped with brass and iron studs, and seemed
An awful weight. After a while he stood
  And I stole near to him.—His white eyes gleamed
As he peeped secretly about; he laid
  The oaken chest upon the ground, then drew
A great knife from his belt, and stuck the blade
  Into the ground and dug. The clay soon flew
In all directions underneath a tree,
  And when the hole was deep he put the box
Down there, and threw the clay back cunningly,
  Stamping the ground quite flat; then like a fox
He crept among the trees.... I went next day
  To dig the treasure up, but I lost my way.

The Turn of the Road

I was playing with my hoop along the road
  Just where the bushes are, when, suddenly,
There came a shout.—I ran away and stowed
  Myself beneath a bush, and watched to see
What made the noise, and then, around the bend,
  I saw a woman running. She was old
And wrinkle-faced, and had big teeth.—The end
  Of her red shawl caught on a bush and rolled
Right off her, and her hair fell down.—Her face
  Was awful white, and both her eyes looked sick,
And she was talking queer. "O God of Grace!"
  Said she, "where is the child?" and flew back quick
The way she came, and screamed, and shook her hands;
  ... Maybe she was a witch from foreign lands.

April Showers

The leaves are fresh after the rain,
  The air is cool and clear,
The sun is shining warm again,
  The sparrows hopping in the lane
Are brisk and full of cheer.

And that is why we dance and play,
  And that is why we sing,
Calling out in voices gay,
  We will not go to school to-day
Or learn anything:

It is a happy thing, I say,
  To be alive on such a day.