While I sit beside the window
I can hear the pigeons coo,
That the air is warm and blue,
And how well the young bird flew—
Then I fold my arms and scold the heart
That thought the pigeons knew.
While I sit beside the window
I can watch the flowers grow
Till the seeds are ripe and blow
To the fruitful earth below—
Then I shut my eyes and tell my heart
The flowers cannot know.
While I sit beside the window
I am growing old and drear ;
Does it matter what I hear,
What I see, or what I fear ?
I can fold my hands and hush my heart
That is straining to a tear.
The earth is gay with leaf and flower,
The fruit is ripe upon the tree,
The pigeons coo in the swinging bower,
But I sit wearily
Watching a beggar-woman nurse
A baby on her knee.
Here are Ladies [1913]
Monday, November 16, 2015
The Moon
If the Moon had a hand
I wonder would she
Stretch it down unto me ?
If she did, I would go
To her glacier land,
To her ice-covered strand.
I would run, I would fly,
Were the cold ever so,
And be warm in the snow.
O Moon of all Light,
Sailing far, sailing high
In the infinite sky.
Do not come down to me,
Lest I shriek in affright,
Lest I die in the night
Of your chill ecstasy.
Here are Ladies [1913]
I wonder would she
Stretch it down unto me ?
If she did, I would go
To her glacier land,
To her ice-covered strand.
I would run, I would fly,
Were the cold ever so,
And be warm in the snow.
O Moon of all Light,
Sailing far, sailing high
In the infinite sky.
Do not come down to me,
Lest I shriek in affright,
Lest I die in the night
Of your chill ecstasy.
Here are Ladies [1913]
Sweet-Apple
At the end of the bough, at the top of the tree
(As fragrant, as high, and as lovely as thou),
One sweet apple reddens which all men may see,
At the end of the bough.
Swinging full to the view, tho' the gatherers now
Pass, and evade, and o'erlook busily :
Overlook! nay, but pluck it! they cannot tell how.
For it swings out of reach as a cloud, and as free
As a star, or thy beauty, which seems too, I vow,
Remote as the sweet rosy apple—ah me!
At the end of the bough.
Here are Ladies [1913]
(As fragrant, as high, and as lovely as thou),
One sweet apple reddens which all men may see,
At the end of the bough.
Swinging full to the view, tho' the gatherers now
Pass, and evade, and o'erlook busily :
Overlook! nay, but pluck it! they cannot tell how.
For it swings out of reach as a cloud, and as free
As a star, or thy beauty, which seems too, I vow,
Remote as the sweet rosy apple—ah me!
At the end of the bough.
Here are Ladies [1913]
The Daises
In the scented bud of the morning—O,
When the windy grass went rippling far,
I saw my dear one walking slow
In the field where the daisies are.
We did not laugh and we did not speak
As we wandered happily to and fro;
I kissed my dear on either cheek
In the bud of the morning—O.
A lark sang up from the breezy land,
A lark sang down from a cloud afar,
And she and I went hand in hand
In the field where the daisies are.
Here are Ladies [1913]
When the windy grass went rippling far,
I saw my dear one walking slow
In the field where the daisies are.
We did not laugh and we did not speak
As we wandered happily to and fro;
I kissed my dear on either cheek
In the bud of the morning—O.
A lark sang up from the breezy land,
A lark sang down from a cloud afar,
And she and I went hand in hand
In the field where the daisies are.
Here are Ladies [1913]
One and One
Do you hate me, you !
Sitting quietly there,
With the burnished hair
That frames the two
Deep eyes of your face
In a smooth embrace ?
And you say naught,
And I never speak ;
But you rest your cheek
On your hand, a thought
Showing plain as the brow
Goes wrinkling now.
Of what do you think,
Sitting opposite me,
As you stir the tea
That you do not drink,
And frown at naught
With those brows of thought ?
Here are Ladies [1913]
Sitting quietly there,
With the burnished hair
That frames the two
Deep eyes of your face
In a smooth embrace ?
And you say naught,
And I never speak ;
But you rest your cheek
On your hand, a thought
Showing plain as the brow
Goes wrinkling now.
Of what do you think,
Sitting opposite me,
As you stir the tea
That you do not drink,
And frown at naught
With those brows of thought ?
Here are Ladies [1913]
Women
Listen! If but women were
Half as kind as they are fair
There would be an end to all
Miseries that do appal.
Cloud and wind would fly together
In a dance of sunny weather,
And the happy trees would throw
Gifts to travellers below.
Then the lion, meek and mild,
With the lamb would, side by side,
Couch him friendly, and would be
Innocent of enmity.
Then the Frozen Pole would go,
Shaking off his fields of snow,
To a kinder clime, and dance
Warmly with the girls of France.
These; if women only were
Half as kind as they are fair.
Here are Ladies [1913]
Half as kind as they are fair
There would be an end to all
Miseries that do appal.
Cloud and wind would fly together
In a dance of sunny weather,
And the happy trees would throw
Gifts to travellers below.
Then the lion, meek and mild,
With the lamb would, side by side,
Couch him friendly, and would be
Innocent of enmity.
Then the Frozen Pole would go,
Shaking off his fields of snow,
To a kinder clime, and dance
Warmly with the girls of France.
These; if women only were
Half as kind as they are fair.
Here are Ladies [1913]
Friday, October 16, 2015
Brigid
(After the Irish)
Do not marry, Breed, asthore !
That old man whose head is hoar
As the winter, but instead
Mate with some young curly-head
He will give to you a child,
He will never leave your side,
And at morning when you wake
Kiss for kiss will give and take.
I wish that I had died, I do,
Before I gave my love to you ;
Love so lasting that it will
While I live be with you still :
And for it what do I get ?
Pain and trouble and regret,
The terrors of the aspen-tree
Which the wind shakes fearfully.
If this country could be seen
As it ought—then you had been
Living in a castle grand
With the ladies of the land :
The friend and foe, the Gael and Gaul,
Would be cheering, one and all,
For yourself, and, this is true,
I would be along with you.
You promised, 'twas a lie, I see,
When you said you'd come to me
At the sheep-cote; I was there
And I whistled on the air,
And I gave our settled call
But you were not there at all !
There was nothing anywhere
But lambs and birds and sunny air.
When it is dark you pass me by,
And when the sun is in the sky
You pass me also—night or day
You look away, you walk away !
But if you would come to me,
And say the word of courtesy,
I would close the door, and then
I'd never let you out again.
But do not marry, Breed, asthore !
That old man ; his heart is hoar
As his head is : you can see
Winter gripping at his knee :
His eyes and ears are blear and dim,
How can you expect of him
To see or hear or pleasure you
Half as well as I would do ?
Here are Ladies [1913]
Do not marry, Breed, asthore !
That old man whose head is hoar
As the winter, but instead
Mate with some young curly-head
He will give to you a child,
He will never leave your side,
And at morning when you wake
Kiss for kiss will give and take.
I wish that I had died, I do,
Before I gave my love to you ;
Love so lasting that it will
While I live be with you still :
And for it what do I get ?
Pain and trouble and regret,
The terrors of the aspen-tree
Which the wind shakes fearfully.
If this country could be seen
As it ought—then you had been
Living in a castle grand
With the ladies of the land :
The friend and foe, the Gael and Gaul,
Would be cheering, one and all,
For yourself, and, this is true,
I would be along with you.
You promised, 'twas a lie, I see,
When you said you'd come to me
At the sheep-cote; I was there
And I whistled on the air,
And I gave our settled call
But you were not there at all !
There was nothing anywhere
But lambs and birds and sunny air.
When it is dark you pass me by,
And when the sun is in the sky
You pass me also—night or day
You look away, you walk away !
But if you would come to me,
And say the word of courtesy,
I would close the door, and then
I'd never let you out again.
But do not marry, Breed, asthore !
That old man ; his heart is hoar
As his head is : you can see
Winter gripping at his knee :
His eyes and ears are blear and dim,
How can you expect of him
To see or hear or pleasure you
Half as well as I would do ?
Here are Ladies [1913]
Friday, July 24, 2015
Hail and Farewell
The poem is sung.
The picture quite
Finished and hung
In the candid light;
But poet and painter must go away
Ere they hear what the critical people say.
Age after age,
Without a break,
A prophet shall rage
By a lonely lake:
And know not ere he has gone away
Who is to listen to what he'll say.
But the poet shall hear,
The painter see
The praises dear
Of their mystery:
And poet and painter and prophet find
The glory they thought they had left behind.
There is an ear
To hear the song,
An eye to peer
At the picture long:
A brain to gather the tale and bless
The prophet who spoke to the wilderness.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The picture quite
Finished and hung
In the candid light;
But poet and painter must go away
Ere they hear what the critical people say.
Age after age,
Without a break,
A prophet shall rage
By a lonely lake:
And know not ere he has gone away
Who is to listen to what he'll say.
But the poet shall hear,
The painter see
The praises dear
Of their mystery:
And poet and painter and prophet find
The glory they thought they had left behind.
There is an ear
To hear the song,
An eye to peer
At the picture long:
A brain to gather the tale and bless
The prophet who spoke to the wilderness.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The Lonely God
(To Stephen MacKenna)
So Eden was deserted, and at Eve
Into the quiet place God came to grieve.
His face was sad, His hands hung slackly down
Along His robe, too sorrowful to frown
He paced along the grassy paths and through
The silent trees, and where the flowers grew
Tended by Adam. All the birds had gone
Out to the world, and singing was not one
To cheer the lonely God out of His grief —
The silence broken only when a leaf
Tap't lightly on a leaf, or when the wind,
Slow-handed, swayed the bushes to its mind.
And so along the base of a round hill,
Rolling in fern, He bent His way until
He neared the little hut which Adam made,
And saw its dusky rooftree overlaid
With greenest leaves. Here Adam and his spouse
Were wont to nestle in their little house
Snug at the dew-time: here He, standing sad,
Sighed with the wind, nor any pleasure had
In heavenly knowledge, for His darlings twain,
Had gone from Him to learn the feel of pain,
And what was meant by sorrow and despair,
— Drear knowledge for a Father to prepare.
There He looked sadly on the little place,
A beehive round it was, without a trace
Of occupant or owner: standing dim
Among the gloomy trees it seemed to Him
A final desolation, the last word
Wherewith the lips of silence had been stirred.
Chaste and remote, so tiny and so shy,
So new withal, so lost to any eye,
So pac't of memories all innocent
Of days and nights that in it had been spent
In blithe communion, Adam, Eve, and He,
Afar from Heaven and its gaudery
And now no more! He still must be the God
But not the friend; a Father with a rod
Whose voice was fear, whose countenance a threat,
Whose coming terror, and whose going wet
With penitential tears; not evermore
Would they run forth to meet Him as before
With careless laughter, striving each to be
First to His hand and dancing in their glee
To see Him coming — they would hide instead
At His approach, or stand and hang the head,
Speaking in whispers, and would learn to pray
Instead of asking, "Father, if we may."
Never again to Eden would He haste
At cool of evening, when the sun had paced
Back from the tree-tops, slanting from the rim
Of a low cloud, what time the twilight dim,
Knit tree to tree in shadow, gathering slow
Till all had met and vanished in the flow
Of dusky silence, and a brooding star
Stared at the growing darkness from afar,
While haply now and then some nested bird
Would lift upon the air a sleepy word
Most musical, or swing its airy bed
To the high moon that drifted overhead.
'Twas good to quit at evening His great throne,
To lay His crown aside, and all alone
Down through the quiet air to stoop and glide
Unkenned by angels : silently to hide
In the green fields, by dappled shades, where brooks,
Through leafy solitudes and quiet nooks
Flowed far from heavenly majesty and pride,
From light astounding and the wheeling tide
Of roaring stars. Thus does it ever seem
Good to the best to stay aside and dream
In narrow places, where the hand can feel
Something beside, and know that it is real.
His angels ! silly creatures who could sing
And sing again, and delicately fling
The smoky censer, bow and stand aside
All mute in adoration : thronging wide,
Till nowhere could He look but soon He saw
An angel bending humbly to the law
Mechanic; knowing nothing more of pain,
Than when they were forbid to sing again,
Or swing anew the censer, or bow down,
In humble adoration of His frown.
This was the thought in Eden as He trod
. . . It is a lonely thing to be a God.
So long ! afar through Time He bent His mind,
For the beginning, which He could not find,
Through endless centuries and backwards still
Endless for ever, till His 'stonied will
Halted in circles, dizzied in the swing
Of mazy nothingness — His mind could bring
Not to subjection, grip or hold the theme
Whose wide horizon melted like a dream
To thinnest edges. Infinite behind
The piling centuries wire trodden blind
In gulfs chaotic — so He could not see
When He was not who always had To Be.
Not even godly fortitude can stare
Into Eternity, nor easy bear
The insolent vacuity of Time:
It is too much, the mind can never climb
Up to its meaning, for, without an end,
Without beginning, plan, or scope, or trend
To point a path, there nothing is to hold
And steady surmise: so the mind is rolled
And swayed and drowned in dull Immensity.
Eternity outfaces even Me
With its indifference, and the fruitless year,
Would swing as fruitless were I never here.
And so for ever, day and night the same,
Years flying swiftly nowhere, like a game
Played random by a madman, without end
Or any reasoned object but to spend
What is unspendable — Eternal Woe!
O Weariness of Time that fast or slow
Goes never further, never has in view
An ending to the thing it seeks to do,
And so does nothing: merely ebb and flow,
From nowhere into nowhere, touching so
The shores of many stars and passing on,
Careless of what may come or what has gone.
O solitude unspeakable! to be
For ever with oneself! never to see
An equal face, or feel an equal hand,
To sit in state and issue reprimand,
Admonishment or glory, and to smile
Disdaining what has happened the while!
O to be breast to breast against a foel
Against a friend ! to strive and not to know
The laboured outcome : Love nor be aware
How much the other loved, and greatly care
With passion for that happy love or hate,
Nor know what joy or dole was hid in fate.
For I have ranged the spacy width and gone
Swift north and south, striving to look upon
An ending somewhere. Many days I sped
Hard to the west, a thousand years I fled
Eastwards in fury, but I could not find
The fringes of the Infinite. Behind
And yet behind, and ever at the end
Came new beginnings, paths that did not wend
To anywhere were there : and ever vast
And vaster spaces opened — till at last
Dizzied with distance, thrilling to a pain
Unnameable, I turned to Heaven again.
And there My angels were prepared to fling
The cloudy incense, there prepared to sing
My praise and glory — O, in fury I
Then roared them senseless, then threw down the sky
And stamped upon it, buffeted a star
With My great fist, and flung the sun afar:
Shouted My anger till the mighty sound
Rung to the width, frighting the furthest bound
And scope of hearing: tumult vaster still,
Thronging the echo, dinned my ears, until
I fled in silence, seeking out a place
To hide Me from the very thought of Space.
And so, He thought, in Mine own Image I
Have made a man, remote from Heaven high
And all its humble angels: I have poured
My essence in his nostrils: I have cored
His heart with My own spirit; part of Me
His mind with laboured growth unceasingly
Must strive to equal Mine ; must ever grow
By virtue of My essence till he know
Both good and evil through the solemn test
Of sin and retribution, till, with zest,
He feels his godhead, soars to challenge Me
In Mine own Heaven for supremacy.
Through savage beasts and still more savage clay
Invincible, I bid him fight a way
To greater battles, crawling through defeat
Into defeat again : ordained to meet
Disaster in disaster: prone to fall
I prick him with My memory to call
Defiance at his victor and arise
With anguished fury to his greater size
Through tribulation, terror and despair
Astounded, he must fight to higher air,
Climb battle into battle till he be
Confronted with a flaming sword and Me.
So growing age by age to greater strength,
To greater beauty, skill and deep intent:
With wisdom wrung from pain, with energy
Nourished in sin and sorrow he will be
Strong, pure and proud an enemy to meet,
Tremendous on a battle-field, or sweet
To walk by as a friend with candid mind.
— Dear enemy or friend so hard to find,
I yet shall find you, yet shall put My breast
In enmity or love against your breast
Shall smite or clasp with equal ecstasy
The enemy or friend who grows to Me.
The topmost blossom of his growing I
Shall take unto Me, cherish and lift high
Beside Myself upon My holy throne :
— It is not good for God to be alone.
The perfect woman of his perfect race
Shall sit beside Me in the highest place
And be My Goddess, Queen, Companion, Wife,
The rounder of My majesty, the life,
Of My ambition. She will smile to see
Me bending down to worship at her knee
Who never bent before, and she will say,
— "Dear God, who was it taught Thee how to pray?"
And through eternity, adown the slope
Of never-ending time, compact of hope,
Of zest and young enjoyment, I and She
Will walk together, sowing jollity
Among the raving stars, and laughter through
The vacancies of Heaven, till the blue
Vast amplitudes of space lift up a song,
The echo of our presence, rolled along
And ever rolling where the planets sing
The majesty and glory of the King.
Then conquered, thou, eternity, shall lie
Under my hand as little as a fly.
I am the Master: I the mighty God
And you My workshop. Your pavilions trod
By Me and Mine shall never cease to be,
For you are but the magnitude of Me,
The width of My extension, the surround
Of My dense splendor. Rolling, rolling round,
To steeped infinity and out beyond
My own strong comprehension you are bond
And servile to My doings. Let you swing
More wide and ever wide you do but fling
Around this instant Me, and measure still
The breadth and the proportion of My Will.
Then stooping to the hut — a beehive round —
God entered in and saw upon the ground
The dusty garland, Adam, (learned to weave)
Had loving placed upon the head of Eve
Before the terror came, when joyous they
Could look for God at closing of the day
Profound and happy. So the Mighty Guest
Bent, took, and placed the blossoms in His breast.
"This," said He gently, "I shall show My queen
When she hath grown to Me in space serene,
And say " 'twas worn by Eve." So, smiling fair,
He spread abroad His wings upon the air.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
So Eden was deserted, and at Eve
Into the quiet place God came to grieve.
His face was sad, His hands hung slackly down
Along His robe, too sorrowful to frown
He paced along the grassy paths and through
The silent trees, and where the flowers grew
Tended by Adam. All the birds had gone
Out to the world, and singing was not one
To cheer the lonely God out of His grief —
The silence broken only when a leaf
Tap't lightly on a leaf, or when the wind,
Slow-handed, swayed the bushes to its mind.
And so along the base of a round hill,
Rolling in fern, He bent His way until
He neared the little hut which Adam made,
And saw its dusky rooftree overlaid
With greenest leaves. Here Adam and his spouse
Were wont to nestle in their little house
Snug at the dew-time: here He, standing sad,
Sighed with the wind, nor any pleasure had
In heavenly knowledge, for His darlings twain,
Had gone from Him to learn the feel of pain,
And what was meant by sorrow and despair,
— Drear knowledge for a Father to prepare.
There He looked sadly on the little place,
A beehive round it was, without a trace
Of occupant or owner: standing dim
Among the gloomy trees it seemed to Him
A final desolation, the last word
Wherewith the lips of silence had been stirred.
Chaste and remote, so tiny and so shy,
So new withal, so lost to any eye,
So pac't of memories all innocent
Of days and nights that in it had been spent
In blithe communion, Adam, Eve, and He,
Afar from Heaven and its gaudery
And now no more! He still must be the God
But not the friend; a Father with a rod
Whose voice was fear, whose countenance a threat,
Whose coming terror, and whose going wet
With penitential tears; not evermore
Would they run forth to meet Him as before
With careless laughter, striving each to be
First to His hand and dancing in their glee
To see Him coming — they would hide instead
At His approach, or stand and hang the head,
Speaking in whispers, and would learn to pray
Instead of asking, "Father, if we may."
Never again to Eden would He haste
At cool of evening, when the sun had paced
Back from the tree-tops, slanting from the rim
Of a low cloud, what time the twilight dim,
Knit tree to tree in shadow, gathering slow
Till all had met and vanished in the flow
Of dusky silence, and a brooding star
Stared at the growing darkness from afar,
While haply now and then some nested bird
Would lift upon the air a sleepy word
Most musical, or swing its airy bed
To the high moon that drifted overhead.
'Twas good to quit at evening His great throne,
To lay His crown aside, and all alone
Down through the quiet air to stoop and glide
Unkenned by angels : silently to hide
In the green fields, by dappled shades, where brooks,
Through leafy solitudes and quiet nooks
Flowed far from heavenly majesty and pride,
From light astounding and the wheeling tide
Of roaring stars. Thus does it ever seem
Good to the best to stay aside and dream
In narrow places, where the hand can feel
Something beside, and know that it is real.
His angels ! silly creatures who could sing
And sing again, and delicately fling
The smoky censer, bow and stand aside
All mute in adoration : thronging wide,
Till nowhere could He look but soon He saw
An angel bending humbly to the law
Mechanic; knowing nothing more of pain,
Than when they were forbid to sing again,
Or swing anew the censer, or bow down,
In humble adoration of His frown.
This was the thought in Eden as He trod
. . . It is a lonely thing to be a God.
So long ! afar through Time He bent His mind,
For the beginning, which He could not find,
Through endless centuries and backwards still
Endless for ever, till His 'stonied will
Halted in circles, dizzied in the swing
Of mazy nothingness — His mind could bring
Not to subjection, grip or hold the theme
Whose wide horizon melted like a dream
To thinnest edges. Infinite behind
The piling centuries wire trodden blind
In gulfs chaotic — so He could not see
When He was not who always had To Be.
Not even godly fortitude can stare
Into Eternity, nor easy bear
The insolent vacuity of Time:
It is too much, the mind can never climb
Up to its meaning, for, without an end,
Without beginning, plan, or scope, or trend
To point a path, there nothing is to hold
And steady surmise: so the mind is rolled
And swayed and drowned in dull Immensity.
Eternity outfaces even Me
With its indifference, and the fruitless year,
Would swing as fruitless were I never here.
And so for ever, day and night the same,
Years flying swiftly nowhere, like a game
Played random by a madman, without end
Or any reasoned object but to spend
What is unspendable — Eternal Woe!
O Weariness of Time that fast or slow
Goes never further, never has in view
An ending to the thing it seeks to do,
And so does nothing: merely ebb and flow,
From nowhere into nowhere, touching so
The shores of many stars and passing on,
Careless of what may come or what has gone.
O solitude unspeakable! to be
For ever with oneself! never to see
An equal face, or feel an equal hand,
To sit in state and issue reprimand,
Admonishment or glory, and to smile
Disdaining what has happened the while!
O to be breast to breast against a foel
Against a friend ! to strive and not to know
The laboured outcome : Love nor be aware
How much the other loved, and greatly care
With passion for that happy love or hate,
Nor know what joy or dole was hid in fate.
For I have ranged the spacy width and gone
Swift north and south, striving to look upon
An ending somewhere. Many days I sped
Hard to the west, a thousand years I fled
Eastwards in fury, but I could not find
The fringes of the Infinite. Behind
And yet behind, and ever at the end
Came new beginnings, paths that did not wend
To anywhere were there : and ever vast
And vaster spaces opened — till at last
Dizzied with distance, thrilling to a pain
Unnameable, I turned to Heaven again.
And there My angels were prepared to fling
The cloudy incense, there prepared to sing
My praise and glory — O, in fury I
Then roared them senseless, then threw down the sky
And stamped upon it, buffeted a star
With My great fist, and flung the sun afar:
Shouted My anger till the mighty sound
Rung to the width, frighting the furthest bound
And scope of hearing: tumult vaster still,
Thronging the echo, dinned my ears, until
I fled in silence, seeking out a place
To hide Me from the very thought of Space.
And so, He thought, in Mine own Image I
Have made a man, remote from Heaven high
And all its humble angels: I have poured
My essence in his nostrils: I have cored
His heart with My own spirit; part of Me
His mind with laboured growth unceasingly
Must strive to equal Mine ; must ever grow
By virtue of My essence till he know
Both good and evil through the solemn test
Of sin and retribution, till, with zest,
He feels his godhead, soars to challenge Me
In Mine own Heaven for supremacy.
Through savage beasts and still more savage clay
Invincible, I bid him fight a way
To greater battles, crawling through defeat
Into defeat again : ordained to meet
Disaster in disaster: prone to fall
I prick him with My memory to call
Defiance at his victor and arise
With anguished fury to his greater size
Through tribulation, terror and despair
Astounded, he must fight to higher air,
Climb battle into battle till he be
Confronted with a flaming sword and Me.
So growing age by age to greater strength,
To greater beauty, skill and deep intent:
With wisdom wrung from pain, with energy
Nourished in sin and sorrow he will be
Strong, pure and proud an enemy to meet,
Tremendous on a battle-field, or sweet
To walk by as a friend with candid mind.
— Dear enemy or friend so hard to find,
I yet shall find you, yet shall put My breast
In enmity or love against your breast
Shall smite or clasp with equal ecstasy
The enemy or friend who grows to Me.
The topmost blossom of his growing I
Shall take unto Me, cherish and lift high
Beside Myself upon My holy throne :
— It is not good for God to be alone.
The perfect woman of his perfect race
Shall sit beside Me in the highest place
And be My Goddess, Queen, Companion, Wife,
The rounder of My majesty, the life,
Of My ambition. She will smile to see
Me bending down to worship at her knee
Who never bent before, and she will say,
— "Dear God, who was it taught Thee how to pray?"
And through eternity, adown the slope
Of never-ending time, compact of hope,
Of zest and young enjoyment, I and She
Will walk together, sowing jollity
Among the raving stars, and laughter through
The vacancies of Heaven, till the blue
Vast amplitudes of space lift up a song,
The echo of our presence, rolled along
And ever rolling where the planets sing
The majesty and glory of the King.
Then conquered, thou, eternity, shall lie
Under my hand as little as a fly.
I am the Master: I the mighty God
And you My workshop. Your pavilions trod
By Me and Mine shall never cease to be,
For you are but the magnitude of Me,
The width of My extension, the surround
Of My dense splendor. Rolling, rolling round,
To steeped infinity and out beyond
My own strong comprehension you are bond
And servile to My doings. Let you swing
More wide and ever wide you do but fling
Around this instant Me, and measure still
The breadth and the proportion of My Will.
Then stooping to the hut — a beehive round —
God entered in and saw upon the ground
The dusty garland, Adam, (learned to weave)
Had loving placed upon the head of Eve
Before the terror came, when joyous they
Could look for God at closing of the day
Profound and happy. So the Mighty Guest
Bent, took, and placed the blossoms in His breast.
"This," said He gently, "I shall show My queen
When she hath grown to Me in space serene,
And say " 'twas worn by Eve." So, smiling fair,
He spread abroad His wings upon the air.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The Monkey's Cousin
I shall reach up, I shall grow
Till the high gods say — "Hello,
Little brother, you must stop
Ere our shoulders you o'ertop."
I shall grow up, I shall reach
Till the little gods beseech
— "Master, wait a little, do,
We are running after you I"
I shall bulk and swell and scale
Till the little gods shall quail,
Running here and there to hide
From the terror of my stride.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Till the high gods say — "Hello,
Little brother, you must stop
Ere our shoulders you o'ertop."
I shall grow up, I shall reach
Till the little gods beseech
— "Master, wait a little, do,
We are running after you I"
I shall bulk and swell and scale
Till the little gods shall quail,
Running here and there to hide
From the terror of my stride.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Chopin's Funeral March
Yea, ye shall rest, O be sure that your sleep will endure:
Through the daylight, the dusk, and the dark, while the moon and the sun
Rise successive and fail and die down when the journey is done :
Ye shall rest, taking heed of no thing that shall come or shall go:
Ye shall sleep through the thunder nor heed when the hurricanes blow:
When the strong trees are felled and the rocks topple down from the height:
While the mountains dissolve into sand and the valleys upright
Climb stark into mountains again, ye shall hear not a sound,
Secure in the sleep that I give in the heart of the ground :
Till the earth like a mote through the spaces falls into the sun,
And the work of all things that have been is a work that is done.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Through the daylight, the dusk, and the dark, while the moon and the sun
Rise successive and fail and die down when the journey is done :
Ye shall rest, taking heed of no thing that shall come or shall go:
Ye shall sleep through the thunder nor heed when the hurricanes blow:
When the strong trees are felled and the rocks topple down from the height:
While the mountains dissolve into sand and the valleys upright
Climb stark into mountains again, ye shall hear not a sound,
Secure in the sleep that I give in the heart of the ground :
Till the earth like a mote through the spaces falls into the sun,
And the work of all things that have been is a work that is done.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Poles
Cleric and Convict are moulded on,
The same old grinning skeleton,
And a saint might think if he looked within
That the Devil had gotten beneath his skin.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The same old grinning skeleton,
And a saint might think if he looked within
That the Devil had gotten beneath his skin.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The Winged Tramp
I saw a poor man walking slow,
Scarcely knowing where to go;
And from door to door he said,
Unto those who stood within,
— "Give me, with a little bread,
Absolution for my sin."
And the people always said,
— "Friend, come in and eat our bread;
Lay you down and rest a while,
Sleep a little time and pray
Unto God and He will smile
All your weighty sin away."
Then the poor man rose and flew
Up to God and no one knew
He was God's beloved Son:
And He told His Father plain
What the folk had said and done:
— So God spared the world again.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Scarcely knowing where to go;
And from door to door he said,
Unto those who stood within,
— "Give me, with a little bread,
Absolution for my sin."
And the people always said,
— "Friend, come in and eat our bread;
Lay you down and rest a while,
Sleep a little time and pray
Unto God and He will smile
All your weighty sin away."
Then the poor man rose and flew
Up to God and no one knew
He was God's beloved Son:
And He told His Father plain
What the folk had said and done:
— So God spared the world again.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Psychometrist
I listened to a man and he
Had no word to say to me :
Then unto a stone I bowed,
And it spoke to me aloud.
"The Force that bindeth me so long,
Once moved in the linnet's song,
Now upon the ground I lie,
While the centuries go by.
"Linnets must for joy atone
And he fastened into stone,
While upon the waving tree
Stones shall sing in Energy."
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Had no word to say to me :
Then unto a stone I bowed,
And it spoke to me aloud.
"The Force that bindeth me so long,
Once moved in the linnet's song,
Now upon the ground I lie,
While the centuries go by.
"Linnets must for joy atone
And he fastened into stone,
While upon the waving tree
Stones shall sing in Energy."
The Hill of Vision [1912]
New Pinions
I tore the shackles from my feet,
The bandage from my straining eye,
I spread my wings above the street
And soared upon the sky.
I knew the stars for friends, and knew
The sun and moon more happy grew
To see me flying by.
And they, far down below, who moved
With hobbled ankles, groping mad
Among the gutters disapproved
And said that it was sad
A man should want to leave the sty,
To spread his wings abroad and fly
When garbage might be had.
But I in converse with the sun,
Or visiting the moon on high,
Or joining with a star to run
Mad races on the sky,
Can hardly find the time to spare
A thought for the dull gropers there
Who never lift an eye.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The bandage from my straining eye,
I spread my wings above the street
And soared upon the sky.
I knew the stars for friends, and knew
The sun and moon more happy grew
To see me flying by.
And they, far down below, who moved
With hobbled ankles, groping mad
Among the gutters disapproved
And said that it was sad
A man should want to leave the sty,
To spread his wings abroad and fly
When garbage might be had.
But I in converse with the sun,
Or visiting the moon on high,
Or joining with a star to run
Mad races on the sky,
Can hardly find the time to spare
A thought for the dull gropers there
Who never lift an eye.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
In the Cool of the Evening
I thought I heard Him calling. Did you hear
A sound, a little sound? My curious ear
Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree
Goes — whisper, whisper, whisper silently
Till all its whispers spread into the sound
Of a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground,
The shade is deep and He may pass us by,
We are so very small, and His great eye,
Customed to starry majesties, may gaze
Too wide to spy us hiding in the maze:
Ah, misery ! the sun has not yet gone
And we are naked: He will look upon
Our crouching shame, may make us stand upright
Burning in terror — O, that it were night!
He may not come . . . what? listen, listen, now —
He is here! lie closer . . . Adam, where art thou?
The Hill of Vision [1912]
A sound, a little sound? My curious ear
Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree
Goes — whisper, whisper, whisper silently
Till all its whispers spread into the sound
Of a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground,
The shade is deep and He may pass us by,
We are so very small, and His great eye,
Customed to starry majesties, may gaze
Too wide to spy us hiding in the maze:
Ah, misery ! the sun has not yet gone
And we are naked: He will look upon
Our crouching shame, may make us stand upright
Burning in terror — O, that it were night!
He may not come . . . what? listen, listen, now —
He is here! lie closer . . . Adam, where art thou?
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The Breath of Life
(To Elizabeth Bloxham)
And while they talked and talked, and while they sat
Changing their base minds into baser coin;
And telling — they! how truth and beauty join,
And how a certain this was good, but that
Was baser than the viper or the toad,
Or the blind beggar glaring down the road.
I turned from them in fury, and I ran
To where the moon shone out upon the height,
Down the long reaches of a summer night,
Stretching slim fingers, and the starry clan
Grew thicker than the flowers that we see
Clustered in quiet fields of greenery.
Around me was the night-time sane and cold,
The clouds that knew no care and no restraint
Swung through the silences, or drifted faint
To pale horizons, wreathing fold on fold,
The moon's sharp edge, each rolling cloud a sea,
A foam of silver shining gloriously.
The quietudes that sunder star from star,
The hazy distances of loneliness,
Where never eagle's wing or timid press
Of lark or wren could venture, and the far
Profundities untravelled and unstirred
By any act of man or thought or word.
These held me with amazement and delight:
I yearned up through the spaces of the sky,
Beyond the rolling clouds, beyond the high
And delicate white moon, and up the height,
And past the rocking stars, and out to where
The ether failed in spaces sharp and bare.
The breath that is the very breath of life
Throbbed close to me: I heard the pulses beat,
That lift the universes into heat:
The slow withdrawal, and the deeper strife
Of His wide respiration, like a sea
It ebbed and flooded through immensity.
His breath alone in wave on mighty wave !
O moon and stars swell to a raptured song !
Ye mountains toss the harmony along !
O little men with little souls to save
Swing up glad chantings, ring the skies above,
With boundless gratitude for boundless love!
Probing the ocean to its steepest drop;
Rejoicing in the viper and the toad,
And the blind beggar glaring down the road;
And they who talk and talk and never stop
Equally quickening; with a care to bend
The gnat's slant wing into a swifter end.
Searching the quarries of all life, the deep
Low crannies and shy places of the world,
To warm the smallest insect that is curled
In a deep root, or on the sun to heap
Fiercer combustion, spending love on all
In equal share, the mighty and the small.
* * * * *
The silence clung about me like a gift,
The tender night-time folded me around
Protectingly, and in a peace profound
The clouds drooped slowly backward drift on drift
Into the darkness, and the moon was gone,
And soon the stars had vanished every one.
But on the sky, a handsbreadth in the west,
A faint cold brightness crept and soared and spread,
Until the rustling heavens overhead,
And the gray trees and grass were manifest:
Then through the chill a golden spear was hurled,
And the big sun tossed laughter on the world.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
And while they talked and talked, and while they sat
Changing their base minds into baser coin;
And telling — they! how truth and beauty join,
And how a certain this was good, but that
Was baser than the viper or the toad,
Or the blind beggar glaring down the road.
I turned from them in fury, and I ran
To where the moon shone out upon the height,
Down the long reaches of a summer night,
Stretching slim fingers, and the starry clan
Grew thicker than the flowers that we see
Clustered in quiet fields of greenery.
Around me was the night-time sane and cold,
The clouds that knew no care and no restraint
Swung through the silences, or drifted faint
To pale horizons, wreathing fold on fold,
The moon's sharp edge, each rolling cloud a sea,
A foam of silver shining gloriously.
The quietudes that sunder star from star,
The hazy distances of loneliness,
Where never eagle's wing or timid press
Of lark or wren could venture, and the far
Profundities untravelled and unstirred
By any act of man or thought or word.
These held me with amazement and delight:
I yearned up through the spaces of the sky,
Beyond the rolling clouds, beyond the high
And delicate white moon, and up the height,
And past the rocking stars, and out to where
The ether failed in spaces sharp and bare.
The breath that is the very breath of life
Throbbed close to me: I heard the pulses beat,
That lift the universes into heat:
The slow withdrawal, and the deeper strife
Of His wide respiration, like a sea
It ebbed and flooded through immensity.
His breath alone in wave on mighty wave !
O moon and stars swell to a raptured song !
Ye mountains toss the harmony along !
O little men with little souls to save
Swing up glad chantings, ring the skies above,
With boundless gratitude for boundless love!
Probing the ocean to its steepest drop;
Rejoicing in the viper and the toad,
And the blind beggar glaring down the road;
And they who talk and talk and never stop
Equally quickening; with a care to bend
The gnat's slant wing into a swifter end.
Searching the quarries of all life, the deep
Low crannies and shy places of the world,
To warm the smallest insect that is curled
In a deep root, or on the sun to heap
Fiercer combustion, spending love on all
In equal share, the mighty and the small.
* * * * *
The silence clung about me like a gift,
The tender night-time folded me around
Protectingly, and in a peace profound
The clouds drooped slowly backward drift on drift
Into the darkness, and the moon was gone,
And soon the stars had vanished every one.
But on the sky, a handsbreadth in the west,
A faint cold brightness crept and soared and spread,
Until the rustling heavens overhead,
And the gray trees and grass were manifest:
Then through the chill a golden spear was hurled,
And the big sun tossed laughter on the world.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Eve
Long ago in ages gray,
I was fashioned out of clay:
Builded with the sun and moon,
Kneaded to a holy tune;
And there came to me a breath
From the House of Life and Death.
Then the sun roared into fire,
And the moon with swift desire
Leaped among the starry throng
Singing on her journey long;
And I climbed up from the sod,
Holding to the hand of God.
In a garden fair and wide
Looking down a mountain side,
Prone I lay and felt the press
Of Immensity's caress,
There a space I lived and knew
What the Power meant to do.
Till upon a day there came
Down to me a voice of flame,
"Thou the corner-stone of man,
Rise and set about my plan,
Nothing doubting, for a guide
I have quickened in thy side."
From the garden wide and fair,
From the pure and holy air,
Down the mountain side I crept
Stumbling often, ill-adept;
Feeling pangs of woeful bliss
Rounding from the primal kiss.
Then from out my straining side
Came the son who is my guide :
Him I nursed through faithful days
Till I faltered at his gaze,
Staring boldly when he saw
I was woman, life, and law.
Life and law and dear delight:
I the moon upon the night
All alluring: I the tree
Growing nuts of mystery:
I the tincture and the dew
That the apple reddens through.
I desirable and sweet:
I of fruitfulness complete:
I the promise and the threat
Which the gods may not forget :
I the Weaver spinning blind
Destinies for humankind.
Lifting, lifting ever up
Till I reach the golden cup:
Groping down and ever down
Till I find the buried crown:
I the Searcher sent to bring
Plumes for the Almighty's Wing.
Weaving Life and Death I go:
Building what I do not know:
Planting tho' in sore distress,
Gardens in the wilderness:
Palaces too big to scan
By the little eye of man.
Knowing surely this is true,
That the thing I have to do,
Has been ordered by the breath
From the House of Life and Death:
It no wind of chance or wide
Cloud of doubt may set aside.
Still the sun roars out in fire,
And the moon with pale desire
Keeps the path appointed her
In the starry theatre:
Sun and moon and I are true,
To the work we have to do.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
I was fashioned out of clay:
Builded with the sun and moon,
Kneaded to a holy tune;
And there came to me a breath
From the House of Life and Death.
Then the sun roared into fire,
And the moon with swift desire
Leaped among the starry throng
Singing on her journey long;
And I climbed up from the sod,
Holding to the hand of God.
In a garden fair and wide
Looking down a mountain side,
Prone I lay and felt the press
Of Immensity's caress,
There a space I lived and knew
What the Power meant to do.
Till upon a day there came
Down to me a voice of flame,
"Thou the corner-stone of man,
Rise and set about my plan,
Nothing doubting, for a guide
I have quickened in thy side."
From the garden wide and fair,
From the pure and holy air,
Down the mountain side I crept
Stumbling often, ill-adept;
Feeling pangs of woeful bliss
Rounding from the primal kiss.
Then from out my straining side
Came the son who is my guide :
Him I nursed through faithful days
Till I faltered at his gaze,
Staring boldly when he saw
I was woman, life, and law.
Life and law and dear delight:
I the moon upon the night
All alluring: I the tree
Growing nuts of mystery:
I the tincture and the dew
That the apple reddens through.
I desirable and sweet:
I of fruitfulness complete:
I the promise and the threat
Which the gods may not forget :
I the Weaver spinning blind
Destinies for humankind.
Lifting, lifting ever up
Till I reach the golden cup:
Groping down and ever down
Till I find the buried crown:
I the Searcher sent to bring
Plumes for the Almighty's Wing.
Weaving Life and Death I go:
Building what I do not know:
Planting tho' in sore distress,
Gardens in the wilderness:
Palaces too big to scan
By the little eye of man.
Knowing surely this is true,
That the thing I have to do,
Has been ordered by the breath
From the House of Life and Death:
It no wind of chance or wide
Cloud of doubt may set aside.
Still the sun roars out in fire,
And the moon with pale desire
Keeps the path appointed her
In the starry theatre:
Sun and moon and I are true,
To the work we have to do.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
Wind and Tree
To Æ
"A woman is a branchy tree
And man a singing wind,
And from her branches carelessly
He takes what he can find:
Then man and wind go far away
While winter comes with loneliness,
With cold and rain and slow decay
On woman and on tree till they
Droop down unto the ground and be
A withered woman, a withered tree;
While wind and man woo undismayed
Another tree, another maid."
The Hill of Vision [1912]
"A woman is a branchy tree
And man a singing wind,
And from her branches carelessly
He takes what he can find:
Then man and wind go far away
While winter comes with loneliness,
With cold and rain and slow decay
On woman and on tree till they
Droop down unto the ground and be
A withered woman, a withered tree;
While wind and man woo undismayed
Another tree, another maid."
The Hill of Vision [1912]
The End of the Road
To Æ
This is a thing is true,
Everything comes to an end:
The loving of me and you,
The walking of friend and friend.
Shall I weep the beauty I knew,
Or the greatness gathered away
Or the truth that is only true,
As the things that a man will say?
The child and the mother will die,
The wife and the husband sever,
The sun will go out of the sky,
And the rain will be falling for ever.
For ever until the waves rear
To the skies with a terrible tune,
And cover the earth and air,
And climb up the beach of the moon.
Then go, for all things must end,
And this is true as I say —
A friend will be leaving a friend,
And a man will be going away.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
This is a thing is true,
Everything comes to an end:
The loving of me and you,
The walking of friend and friend.
Shall I weep the beauty I knew,
Or the greatness gathered away
Or the truth that is only true,
As the things that a man will say?
The child and the mother will die,
The wife and the husband sever,
The sun will go out of the sky,
And the rain will be falling for ever.
For ever until the waves rear
To the skies with a terrible tune,
And cover the earth and air,
And climb up the beach of the moon.
Then go, for all things must end,
And this is true as I say —
A friend will be leaving a friend,
And a man will be going away.
The Hill of Vision [1912]
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