Silently over his vast imperial seas,
Over his sentinel fleets the Shadow swept
And all his armies slept.
There was but one quick challenge at the gate,
Then—the cold menace of that out-stretched hand,
Waving aside the panoplies of State,
Brought the last faithful watchers to their knees,
And lightning flashed the grief from land to land.
Over his sentinel fleets the Shadow swept
And all his armies slept.
There was but one quick challenge at the gate,
Then—the cold menace of that out-stretched hand,
Waving aside the panoplies of State,
Brought the last faithful watchers to their knees,
And lightning flashed the grief from land to land.
Mourn, Britain, mourn, not for a king alone!
This was the people's king! His purple throne
Was in their hearts. They shared it. Millions of swords
Could not have shaken it! Sharers of this doom,
This democratic doom which all men know,
His Common-weal, in this great common woe,
Veiling its head in the universal gloom,
With that majestic grief which knows not words,
Bows o'er a world-wide tomb.
This was the people's king! His purple throne
Was in their hearts. They shared it. Millions of swords
Could not have shaken it! Sharers of this doom,
This democratic doom which all men know,
His Common-weal, in this great common woe,
Veiling its head in the universal gloom,
With that majestic grief which knows not words,
Bows o'er a world-wide tomb.
Mourn, Europe, for our England set this Crown
In splendour past the reach of temporal power,
Secure above the thunders of the hour,
A sun in the great skies of her renown,
A sun to hold her wheeling worlds in one
By its own course of duty pre-ordained,
Where'er the meteors flash and fall, a sun
With its great course of duty!
In splendour past the reach of temporal power,
Secure above the thunders of the hour,
A sun in the great skies of her renown,
A sun to hold her wheeling worlds in one
By its own course of duty pre-ordained,
Where'er the meteors flash and fall, a sun
With its great course of duty!
So he reigned,
And died in its observance. Mightier he
Than any despot, in his people's love,
He served that law which rules the Thrones above,
That world-wide law which by the raging sea
Abased the flatterers of Canúte and makes
The King that abnegates all lesser power
A rock in time of trouble, and a tower
Of strength where'er the tidal tempest breaks;
That world-wide law whose name is harmony,
Whose service perfect freedom!
And died in its observance. Mightier he
Than any despot, in his people's love,
He served that law which rules the Thrones above,
That world-wide law which by the raging sea
Abased the flatterers of Canúte and makes
The King that abnegates all lesser power
A rock in time of trouble, and a tower
Of strength where'er the tidal tempest breaks;
That world-wide law whose name is harmony,
Whose service perfect freedom!
And his name
The Peacemaker, through all the future years
Shall burn, a glorious and prophetic flame,
A beaconing sun that never shall go down,
A sun to speed the world's diviner morrow,
A sun that shines the brighter for our sorrow;
For, O, what splendour in a monarch's crown
Vies with the splendour of his people's tears?
The Peacemaker, through all the future years
Shall burn, a glorious and prophetic flame,
A beaconing sun that never shall go down,
A sun to speed the world's diviner morrow,
A sun that shines the brighter for our sorrow;
For, O, what splendour in a monarch's crown
Vies with the splendour of his people's tears?
And now, O now, while the sorrowful trumpet is blown,
From island to continent, zone to imperial zone,
And the flags of the nations are lowered in grief with our own;
Now, while the roll of the drums that for battle were dumb
When he reigned, salute his passing; and low on the breeze
From the snow-bound North to the Australasian seas
Surges the solemn lament—O, shall it not come,
A glimpse of that mightier union of all mankind?
Now, though our eyes, as they gaze on the vision, grow blind,
Now, while the world is all one funeral knell,
And the mournful cannon thunder his great farewell, Now, while the bells of a thousand cities toll,
Remember, O England, remember the ageless goal,
Rally the slumbering faith in the depths of thy soul,
Lift up thine eyes to the Kingdom for which he fought,
That Empire of Peace and Good-will, for which to his death-hour he wrought.
Then, then while the pomp of the world seems a little thing,
Ay, though by the world it be said,
The King is dead!
We shall lift up our hearts and answer—Long live the King!
From island to continent, zone to imperial zone,
And the flags of the nations are lowered in grief with our own;
Now, while the roll of the drums that for battle were dumb
When he reigned, salute his passing; and low on the breeze
From the snow-bound North to the Australasian seas
Surges the solemn lament—O, shall it not come,
A glimpse of that mightier union of all mankind?
Now, though our eyes, as they gaze on the vision, grow blind,
Now, while the world is all one funeral knell,
And the mournful cannon thunder his great farewell, Now, while the bells of a thousand cities toll,
Remember, O England, remember the ageless goal,
Rally the slumbering faith in the depths of thy soul,
Lift up thine eyes to the Kingdom for which he fought,
That Empire of Peace and Good-will, for which to his death-hour he wrought.
Then, then while the pomp of the world seems a little thing,
Ay, though by the world it be said,
The King is dead!
We shall lift up our hearts and answer—Long live the King!
THE SAILOR-KING
The fleet, the fleet puts out to sea
In a thunder of blinding foam to-night,
With a bursting wreck-strewn reef to lee,
But—a seaman fired yon beacon-light!
Seamen hailing a seaman, know—
Free-men crowning a free-man, sing—
The worth of that light where the great ships go,
The signal-fire of the king.
In a thunder of blinding foam to-night,
With a bursting wreck-strewn reef to lee,
But—a seaman fired yon beacon-light!
Seamen hailing a seaman, know—
Free-men crowning a free-man, sing—
The worth of that light where the great ships go,
The signal-fire of the king.
Cloud and wind may shift and veer:
This is steady and this is sure,
A signal over our hope and fear,
A pledge of the strength that shall endure—
Having no part in our storm-tossed strife—
A sign of union, which shall bring
Knowledge to men of their close-knit life,
The signal-fire of the king.
This is steady and this is sure,
A signal over our hope and fear,
A pledge of the strength that shall endure—
Having no part in our storm-tossed strife—
A sign of union, which shall bring
Knowledge to men of their close-knit life,
The signal-fire of the king.
His friends are the old grey glorious waves,
The wide world round, the wide world round,
That have roared with our guns and covered our graves
From Nombre Dios to Plymouth Sound;
And his crown shall shine, a central sun
Round which the planet-nations sing,
Going their ways, but linked in one,
As the ships of our sailor-king.
The wide world round, the wide world round,
That have roared with our guns and covered our graves
From Nombre Dios to Plymouth Sound;
And his crown shall shine, a central sun
Round which the planet-nations sing,
Going their ways, but linked in one,
As the ships of our sailor-king.
Many the ships, but a single fleet;
Many the roads, but a single goal;
And a light, a light where all roads meet,
The beacon-fire of an Empire's soul;
The worth of that light his seamen know,
Through all the deaths that the storm can bring
The crown of their comrade-ship a-glow,
The signal-fire of the king.
Many the roads, but a single goal;
And a light, a light where all roads meet,
The beacon-fire of an Empire's soul;
The worth of that light his seamen know,
Through all the deaths that the storm can bring
The crown of their comrade-ship a-glow,
The signal-fire of the king.
THE FIDDLER'S FAREWELL
With my fiddle to my shoulder,
And my hair turning grey,
And my heart growing older
I must shuffle on my way!
Tho' there's not a hearth to greet me
I must reap as I sowed,
And—the sunset shall meet me
At the turn of the road.
And my hair turning grey,
And my heart growing older
I must shuffle on my way!
Tho' there's not a hearth to greet me
I must reap as I sowed,
And—the sunset shall meet me
At the turn of the road.
O, the whin's a dusky yellow
And the road a rosy white,
And the blackbird's call is mellow
At the falling of night;
And there's honey in the heather
Where we'll make our last abode,
My tunes and me together
At the turn of the road.
And the road a rosy white,
And the blackbird's call is mellow
At the falling of night;
And there's honey in the heather
Where we'll make our last abode,
My tunes and me together
At the turn of the road.
I have fiddled for your city
Thro' market-place and inn!
I have poured forth my pity
On your sorrow and your sin!
But your riches are your burden,
And your pleasure is your goad!
I've the whin-gold for guerdon
At the turn of the road.
Thro' market-place and inn!
I have poured forth my pity
On your sorrow and your sin!
But your riches are your burden,
And your pleasure is your goad!
I've the whin-gold for guerdon
At the turn of the road.
Your village-lights 'll call me
As the lights of home the dead;
But a black night befall me
Ere your pillows rest my head!
God be praised, tho' like a jewel
Every cottage casement showed,
There's a star that's not so cruel
At the turn of the road.
As the lights of home the dead;
But a black night befall me
Ere your pillows rest my head!
God be praised, tho' like a jewel
Every cottage casement showed,
There's a star that's not so cruel
At the turn of the road.
Nay, beautiful and kindly
Are the faces drawing nigh,
But I gaze on them blindly
And hasten, hasten by;
For O, no face of wonder
On earth has ever glowed
Like the One that waits me yonder
At the turn of the road.
Are the faces drawing nigh,
But I gaze on them blindly
And hasten, hasten by;
For O, no face of wonder
On earth has ever glowed
Like the One that waits me yonder
At the turn of the road.
Her face is lit with splendour,
She dwells beyond the skies;
But deep, deep and tender
Are the tears in her eyes:
The angels see them glistening
In pity for my load,
And—she's waiting there, she's listening,
At the turn of the road.
She dwells beyond the skies;
But deep, deep and tender
Are the tears in her eyes:
The angels see them glistening
In pity for my load,
And—she's waiting there, she's listening,
At the turn of the road.
TO A PESSIMIST
Life like a cruel mistress woos
The passionate heart of man, you say,
Only in mockery to refuse
His love, at last, and turn away.
The passionate heart of man, you say,
Only in mockery to refuse
His love, at last, and turn away.
To me she seems a queen that knows
How great is love—but ah, how rare!—
And, pointing heavenward ere she goes,
Gives him the rose from out her hair.
How great is love—but ah, how rare!—
And, pointing heavenward ere she goes,
Gives him the rose from out her hair.
MOUNT IDA
[This poem commemorates an event of some years ago, when a young Englishman—still remembered by many of his contemporaries at Oxford—went up into Mount Ida and was never seen again.]
I
Not cypress, but this warm pine-plumage now
Fragrant with sap, I pluck; nor bid you weep,
Ye Muses that still haunt the heavenly brow
Of Ida, though the ascent is hard and steep:
Weep not for him who left us wrapped in sleep
At dawn beneath the holy mountain's breast
And all alone from Ilion's gleaming shore
Clomb the high sea-ward glens, fain to drink deep
Of earth's old glory from your silent crest,
Take the cloud-conquering throne
Of gods, and gaze alone
Thro' heaven. Darkling we slept who saw his face no more.
Fragrant with sap, I pluck; nor bid you weep,
Ye Muses that still haunt the heavenly brow
Of Ida, though the ascent is hard and steep:
Weep not for him who left us wrapped in sleep
At dawn beneath the holy mountain's breast
And all alone from Ilion's gleaming shore
Clomb the high sea-ward glens, fain to drink deep
Of earth's old glory from your silent crest,
Take the cloud-conquering throne
Of gods, and gaze alone
Thro' heaven. Darkling we slept who saw his face no more.
II
Ah yet, in him hath Lycidas a brother,
And Adonaïs will not say him nay,
And Thyrsis to the breast of one sweet Mother
Welcomes him, climbing by the self-same way:
Quietly as a cloud at break of day
Up the long glens of golden dew he stole
(And surely Bion called to him afar!)
The tearful hyacinths and the greenwood spray
Clinging to keep him from the sapphire goal,
Kept of his path no trace!
Upward the yearning face
Clomb the ethereal height, calm as the morning star.
And Adonaïs will not say him nay,
And Thyrsis to the breast of one sweet Mother
Welcomes him, climbing by the self-same way:
Quietly as a cloud at break of day
Up the long glens of golden dew he stole
(And surely Bion called to him afar!)
The tearful hyacinths and the greenwood spray
Clinging to keep him from the sapphire goal,
Kept of his path no trace!
Upward the yearning face
Clomb the ethereal height, calm as the morning star.
III
Ah yet, incline, dear Sisters, or my song
That with the light wings of the skimming swallow
Must range the reedy slopes, will work him wrong!
And with some golden shaft do thou, Apollo,
Show the pine-shadowed path that none may follow; For, as the blue air shuts behind a bird,
Round him closed Ida's cloudy woods and rills!
Day-long, night-long, by echoing height and hollow,
We called him, but our tumult died unheard:
Down from the scornful sky
Our faint wing-broken cry
Fluttered and perished among the many-folded hills.
That with the light wings of the skimming swallow
Must range the reedy slopes, will work him wrong!
And with some golden shaft do thou, Apollo,
Show the pine-shadowed path that none may follow; For, as the blue air shuts behind a bird,
Round him closed Ida's cloudy woods and rills!
Day-long, night-long, by echoing height and hollow,
We called him, but our tumult died unheard:
Down from the scornful sky
Our faint wing-broken cry
Fluttered and perished among the many-folded hills.
IV
Ay, though we clomb each faint-flushed peak of vision,
Nought but our own sad faces we divined:
Thy radiant way still laughed us to derision,
And still revengeful Echo proved unkind;
And oft our faithless hearts half feared to find
Thy cold corse in some dark mist-drenched ravine
Where the white foam flashed headlong to the sea:
How should we find thee, spirits deaf and blind
Even to the things which we had heard and seen?
Eyes that could see no more
The old light on sea and shore,
What should they hope or fear to find? They found not thee;
Nought but our own sad faces we divined:
Thy radiant way still laughed us to derision,
And still revengeful Echo proved unkind;
And oft our faithless hearts half feared to find
Thy cold corse in some dark mist-drenched ravine
Where the white foam flashed headlong to the sea:
How should we find thee, spirits deaf and blind
Even to the things which we had heard and seen?
Eyes that could see no more
The old light on sea and shore,
What should they hope or fear to find? They found not thee;
V
For thou wast ever alien to our skies,
A wistful stray of radiance on this earth,
A changeling with deep memories in thine eyes
Mistily gazing thro' our loud-voiced mirth
To some fair land beyond the gates of birth;
Yet as a star thro' clouds, thou still didst shed
Through our dark world thy lovelier, rarer glow;
Time, like a picture of but little worth,
Before thy young hand lifelessly outspread,
At one light stroke from thee
Gleamed with Eternity;
Thou gav'st the master's touch, and we—we did not know.
A wistful stray of radiance on this earth,
A changeling with deep memories in thine eyes
Mistily gazing thro' our loud-voiced mirth
To some fair land beyond the gates of birth;
Yet as a star thro' clouds, thou still didst shed
Through our dark world thy lovelier, rarer glow;
Time, like a picture of but little worth,
Before thy young hand lifelessly outspread,
At one light stroke from thee
Gleamed with Eternity;
Thou gav'st the master's touch, and we—we did not know.
VI
Not though we gazed from heaven o'er Ilion
Dreaming on earth below, mistily crowned
With towering memories, and beyond her shone
The wine-dark seas Achilles heard resound!
Only, and after many days, we found
Dabbled with dew, at border of a wood
Bedded in hyacinths, open and a-glow
Thy Homer's Iliad.... Dryad tears had drowned
The rough Greek type and, as with honey or blood,
One crocus with crushed gold
Stained the great page that told
Of gods that sighed their loves on Ida, long ago.
Dreaming on earth below, mistily crowned
With towering memories, and beyond her shone
The wine-dark seas Achilles heard resound!
Only, and after many days, we found
Dabbled with dew, at border of a wood
Bedded in hyacinths, open and a-glow
Thy Homer's Iliad.... Dryad tears had drowned
The rough Greek type and, as with honey or blood,
One crocus with crushed gold
Stained the great page that told
Of gods that sighed their loves on Ida, long ago.
VII
See—for a couch to their ambrosial limbs
Even as their golden load of splendour presses
The fragrant thyme, a billowing cloud up-swims
Of springing flowers beneath their deep caresses,
Hyacinth, lotus, crocus, wildernesses
Of bloom ... but clouds of sunlight and of dew
Dropping rich balm, round the dark pine-woods curled
That the warm wonder of their in-woven tresses,
And all the secret blisses that they knew,
Where beauty kisses truth
In heaven's deep heart of youth,
Might still be hidden, as thou art, from the heartless world.
Even as their golden load of splendour presses
The fragrant thyme, a billowing cloud up-swims
Of springing flowers beneath their deep caresses,
Hyacinth, lotus, crocus, wildernesses
Of bloom ... but clouds of sunlight and of dew
Dropping rich balm, round the dark pine-woods curled
That the warm wonder of their in-woven tresses,
And all the secret blisses that they knew,
Where beauty kisses truth
In heaven's deep heart of youth,
Might still be hidden, as thou art, from the heartless world.
VIII
Even as we found thy book, below these rocks
Perchance that strange great eagle's feather lay,
When Ganymede, from feeding of his flocks
On Ida, vanished thro' the morning grey:
Stranger it seemed, if thou couldst cast away Those golden musics as a thing of nought,
A dream for which no longer thou hadst need!
Ah, was it here then that the break of day
Brought thee the substance for the shadow, taught
Thy soul a swifter road
To ease it of its load
And watch this world of shadows as a dream recede?
Perchance that strange great eagle's feather lay,
When Ganymede, from feeding of his flocks
On Ida, vanished thro' the morning grey:
Stranger it seemed, if thou couldst cast away Those golden musics as a thing of nought,
A dream for which no longer thou hadst need!
Ah, was it here then that the break of day
Brought thee the substance for the shadow, taught
Thy soul a swifter road
To ease it of its load
And watch this world of shadows as a dream recede?
IX
We slept! Darkling we slept! Our busy schemes,
Our cold mechanic world awhile was still;
But O, their eyes are blinded even in dreams
Who from the heavenlier Powers withdraw their will:
Here did the dawn with purer light fulfil
Thy happier eyes than ours, here didst thou see
The quivering wonder-light in flower and dew,
The quickening glory of the haunted hill,
The Hamadryad beckoning from the tree.
The Naiad from the stream;
While from her long dark dream
Earth woke, trembling with life, light, beauty, through and through.
Our cold mechanic world awhile was still;
But O, their eyes are blinded even in dreams
Who from the heavenlier Powers withdraw their will:
Here did the dawn with purer light fulfil
Thy happier eyes than ours, here didst thou see
The quivering wonder-light in flower and dew,
The quickening glory of the haunted hill,
The Hamadryad beckoning from the tree.
The Naiad from the stream;
While from her long dark dream
Earth woke, trembling with life, light, beauty, through and through.
X
And the everlasting miracle of things
Flowed round thee, and this dark earth opposed no bar,
And radiant faces from the flowers and springs
Dawned on thee, whispering, Knowest thou whence we are?
Faintly thou heardst us calling thee afar
As Hylas heard, swooning beneath the wave,
Girdled with glowing arms, while wood and glen
Echoed his name beneath that rosy star;
And thy farewell came faint as from the grave
For very bliss; but we
Could neither hear nor see;
And all the hill with Hylas! Hylas! rang again.
Flowed round thee, and this dark earth opposed no bar,
And radiant faces from the flowers and springs
Dawned on thee, whispering, Knowest thou whence we are?
Faintly thou heardst us calling thee afar
As Hylas heard, swooning beneath the wave,
Girdled with glowing arms, while wood and glen
Echoed his name beneath that rosy star;
And thy farewell came faint as from the grave
For very bliss; but we
Could neither hear nor see;
And all the hill with Hylas! Hylas! rang again.
XI
But there were deeper love-tales for thine ears
Than mellow-tongued Theocritus could tell:
Over him like a sea two thousand years
Had swept. They solemnized his music well!
Farewell! What word could answer but farewell,
From thee, O happy spirit, that couldst steal
So quietly from this world at break of day?
What voice of ours could break the silent spell
Beauty had cast upon thee, or reveal
The gates of sun and dew
Which oped and let thee through
And led thee heavenward by that deep enchanted way?
Than mellow-tongued Theocritus could tell:
Over him like a sea two thousand years
Had swept. They solemnized his music well!
Farewell! What word could answer but farewell,
From thee, O happy spirit, that couldst steal
So quietly from this world at break of day?
What voice of ours could break the silent spell
Beauty had cast upon thee, or reveal
The gates of sun and dew
Which oped and let thee through
And led thee heavenward by that deep enchanted way?
XII
Yet here thou mad'st thy choice: Love, Wisdom, Power,
As once before young Paris, they stood here!
Beneath them Ida, like one full-blown flower,
Shed her bloom earthward thro' the radiant air
Leaving her rounded fruit, their beauty, bare
To the everlasting dawn; and, in thy palm
The golden apple of the Hesperian isle
Which thou must only yield to the Most Fair;
But not to Juno's great luxurious calm,
Nor Dian's curved white moon,
Gav'st thou the sunset's boon,
Nor to foam-bosomed Aphrodite's rose-lipped smile.
As once before young Paris, they stood here!
Beneath them Ida, like one full-blown flower,
Shed her bloom earthward thro' the radiant air
Leaving her rounded fruit, their beauty, bare
To the everlasting dawn; and, in thy palm
The golden apple of the Hesperian isle
Which thou must only yield to the Most Fair;
But not to Juno's great luxurious calm,
Nor Dian's curved white moon,
Gav'st thou the sunset's boon,
Nor to foam-bosomed Aphrodite's rose-lipped smile.
XIII
Here didst thou make the eternal choice aright,
Here, in this hallowed haunt of nymph and faun,
They stood before thee in that great new light,
The three great splendours of the immortal dawn,
With all the cloudy veils of Time withdrawn Or only glistening round the firm white snows
Of their pure beauty like the golden dew
Brushed from the feathery ferns below the lawn;
But not to cold Diana's morning rose,
Nor to great Juno's frown
Cast thou the apple down,
And, when the Paphian raised her lustrous eyes anew,
Here, in this hallowed haunt of nymph and faun,
They stood before thee in that great new light,
The three great splendours of the immortal dawn,
With all the cloudy veils of Time withdrawn Or only glistening round the firm white snows
Of their pure beauty like the golden dew
Brushed from the feathery ferns below the lawn;
But not to cold Diana's morning rose,
Nor to great Juno's frown
Cast thou the apple down,
And, when the Paphian raised her lustrous eyes anew,
XIV
Thou from thy soul didst whisper—in that heaven
Which yearns beyond us! Lead me up the height!
How should the golden fruit to one be given
Till your three splendours in that Sun unite
Where each in each ye move like light in light?
How should I judge the rapture till I know
The pain? And like three waves of music there
They closed thee round, blinding thy blissful sight
With beauty and, like one roseate orb a-glow,
They bore thee on their breasts
Up the sun-smitten crests
And melted with thee smiling into the Most Fair.
Which yearns beyond us! Lead me up the height!
How should the golden fruit to one be given
Till your three splendours in that Sun unite
Where each in each ye move like light in light?
How should I judge the rapture till I know
The pain? And like three waves of music there
They closed thee round, blinding thy blissful sight
With beauty and, like one roseate orb a-glow,
They bore thee on their breasts
Up the sun-smitten crests
And melted with thee smiling into the Most Fair.
XV
Upward and onward, ever as ye went
The cities of the world nestled beneath
Closer, as if in love, round Ida, blent
With alien hills in one great bridal-wreath
Of dawn-flushed clouds; while, breathing with your breath
New heavens mixed with your mounting bliss. Deep eyes,
Beautiful eyes, imbrued with the world's tears
Dawned on you, beautiful gleams of Love and Death
Flowed thro' your questioning with divine replies
From that ineffable height
Dark with excess of light
Where the Ever-living dies and the All-loving hears.
The cities of the world nestled beneath
Closer, as if in love, round Ida, blent
With alien hills in one great bridal-wreath
Of dawn-flushed clouds; while, breathing with your breath
New heavens mixed with your mounting bliss. Deep eyes,
Beautiful eyes, imbrued with the world's tears
Dawned on you, beautiful gleams of Love and Death
Flowed thro' your questioning with divine replies
From that ineffable height
Dark with excess of light
Where the Ever-living dies and the All-loving hears.
XVI
For thou hadst seen what tears upon man's face
Bled from the heart or burned from out the brain,
And not denied or cursed, but couldst embrace
Infinite sweetness in the heart of pain,
And heardst those universal choirs again
Wherein like waves of one harmonious sea
All our slight dreams of heaven are singing still,
And still the throned Olympians swell the strain,
And, hark, the burden, of all—Come unto Me!
Sky into deepening sky
Melts with that one great cry;
And the lost doves of Ida moan on Siloa's hill.
Bled from the heart or burned from out the brain,
And not denied or cursed, but couldst embrace
Infinite sweetness in the heart of pain,
And heardst those universal choirs again
Wherein like waves of one harmonious sea
All our slight dreams of heaven are singing still,
And still the throned Olympians swell the strain,
And, hark, the burden, of all—Come unto Me!
Sky into deepening sky
Melts with that one great cry;
And the lost doves of Ida moan on Siloa's hill.
XVII
I gather all the ages in my song
And send them singing up the heights to thee!
Chord by æonian chord the stars prolong
Their passionate echoes to Eternity:
Earth wakes, and one orchestral symphony
Sweeps o'er the quivering harp-strings of mankind;
Grief modulates into heaven, hate drowns in love,
No strife now but of love in that great sea
Of song! I dream! I dream! Mine eyes grow blind:
Chords that I not command
Escape the fainting hand;
Tears fall. Thou canst not hear. Thou'rt still too far above.
And send them singing up the heights to thee!
Chord by æonian chord the stars prolong
Their passionate echoes to Eternity:
Earth wakes, and one orchestral symphony
Sweeps o'er the quivering harp-strings of mankind;
Grief modulates into heaven, hate drowns in love,
No strife now but of love in that great sea
Of song! I dream! I dream! Mine eyes grow blind:
Chords that I not command
Escape the fainting hand;
Tears fall. Thou canst not hear. Thou'rt still too far above.
XVIII
Farewell! What word should answer but farewell
From thee, O happy spirit, whose clear gaze
Discerned the path—clear, but unsearchable—
Where Olivet sweetens, deepens, Ida's praise,
The path that strikes as thro' a sunlit haze Through Time to that clear reconciling height
Where our commingling gleams of godhead dwell;
Strikes thro' the turmoil of our darkling days
To that great harmony where, like light in light,
Wisdom and Beauty still
Haunt the thrice-holy hill,
And Love, immortal Love ... what answer but farewell?
From thee, O happy spirit, whose clear gaze
Discerned the path—clear, but unsearchable—
Where Olivet sweetens, deepens, Ida's praise,
The path that strikes as thro' a sunlit haze Through Time to that clear reconciling height
Where our commingling gleams of godhead dwell;
Strikes thro' the turmoil of our darkling days
To that great harmony where, like light in light,
Wisdom and Beauty still
Haunt the thrice-holy hill,
And Love, immortal Love ... what answer but farewell?
THE ELECTRIC TRAM
I
Bluff and burly and splendid
Thro' roaring traffic-tides,
By secret lightnings attended
The land-ship hisses and glides.
And I sit on its bridge and I watch and I dream
While the world goes gallantly by,
With all its crowded houses and its colored shops a-stream
Under the June-blue sky,
Heigh, ho!
Under the June-blue sky.
Thro' roaring traffic-tides,
By secret lightnings attended
The land-ship hisses and glides.
And I sit on its bridge and I watch and I dream
While the world goes gallantly by,
With all its crowded houses and its colored shops a-stream
Under the June-blue sky,
Heigh, ho!
Under the June-blue sky.
II
There's a loafer at the kerb with a sulphur-coloured pile
Of "Lights! Lights! Lights!" to sell;
And a flower-girl there with some lilies and a smile
By the gilt swing-doors of a drinking hell,
Where the money is rattling loud and fast,
And I catch one glimpse as the ship swings past
Of a woman with a babe at her breast
Wrapped in a ragged shawl;
She is drinking away with the rest,
And the sun shines over it all,
Heigh, ho!
The sun shines over it all!
Of "Lights! Lights! Lights!" to sell;
And a flower-girl there with some lilies and a smile
By the gilt swing-doors of a drinking hell,
Where the money is rattling loud and fast,
And I catch one glimpse as the ship swings past
Of a woman with a babe at her breast
Wrapped in a ragged shawl;
She is drinking away with the rest,
And the sun shines over it all,
Heigh, ho!
The sun shines over it all!
III
And a barrel-organ is playing,
Somewhere, far away,
Abide with me, and The world is gone a-maying,
And What will the policeman say?
There's a glimpse of the river down an alley by a church,
And the barges with their tawny-coloured sails,
And a grim and grimy coal-wharf where the London pigeons perch
And flutter and spread their tails,
Heigh, ho!
Flutter and spread their tails.
Somewhere, far away,
Abide with me, and The world is gone a-maying,
And What will the policeman say?
There's a glimpse of the river down an alley by a church,
And the barges with their tawny-coloured sails,
And a grim and grimy coal-wharf where the London pigeons perch
And flutter and spread their tails,
Heigh, ho!
Flutter and spread their tails.
IV
O, what does it mean, all the pageant and the pity,
The waste and the wonder and the shame?
I am riding tow'rds the sunset thro' the vision of a City
Which we cloak with the stupor of a name!
I am riding thro' ten thousand thousand tragedies and terrors,
Ten million heavens that save and hells that damn;
And the lightning draws my car tow'rds the golden evening star;
And—They call it only "riding on a tram,"
Heigh, ho!
They call it only "riding on a tram."
The waste and the wonder and the shame?
I am riding tow'rds the sunset thro' the vision of a City
Which we cloak with the stupor of a name!
I am riding thro' ten thousand thousand tragedies and terrors,
Ten million heavens that save and hells that damn;
And the lightning draws my car tow'rds the golden evening star;
And—They call it only "riding on a tram,"
Heigh, ho!
They call it only "riding on a tram."
SHERWOOD
PERSONS OF THE DRAMA
ACT I
Scene I. Night. The borders of the forest. The smouldering embers of a Saxon homestead. The Sheriff and his men are struggling with a Serf.
SERF
No, no, not that! not that! If you should blind me
God will repay you. Kill me out of hand!
God will repay you. Kill me out of hand!
JOHN
Who is this night-jar?
[The retainers laugh.]
Surely, master Sheriff,
You should have cut its tongue out, first. Its cries
Tingle so hideously across the wood
They'll wake the King in Palestine. Small wonder
That Robin Hood evades you.
You should have cut its tongue out, first. Its cries
Tingle so hideously across the wood
They'll wake the King in Palestine. Small wonder
That Robin Hood evades you.
SHERIFF
[To the Serf.]
Silence, dog,
Know you not better than to make this clamour
Before Prince John?
Know you not better than to make this clamour
Before Prince John?
SERF
Prince John! It is Prince John!
For God's love save me, sir!
For God's love save me, sir!
JOHN
Whose thrall is he?
SHERIFF
I know not, sir, but he was caught red-handed
Killing the king's deer. By the forest law
He should of rights be blinded; for, as you see,
Killing the king's deer. By the forest law
He should of rights be blinded; for, as you see,
[He indicates the Serf's right hand.]
'Tis not his first deer at King Richard's cost.
JOHN
'Twill save you trouble if you say at mine.
SHERIFF
Ay, sir, I pray your pardon—at your cost!
His right hand lacks the thumb and arrow-finger,
And though he vows it was a falling tree
That crushed them, you may trust your Sheriff, sir,
It was the law that clipped them when he last
Hunted your deer.
His right hand lacks the thumb and arrow-finger,
And though he vows it was a falling tree
That crushed them, you may trust your Sheriff, sir,
It was the law that clipped them when he last
Hunted your deer.
SERF
Prince, when the Conqueror came,
They burned my father's homestead with the rest
To make the King a broader hunting-ground.
I have hunted there for food. How could I bear
To hear my hungry children crying? Prince,
They'll make good bowmen for your wars, one day.
They burned my father's homestead with the rest
To make the King a broader hunting-ground.
I have hunted there for food. How could I bear
To hear my hungry children crying? Prince,
They'll make good bowmen for your wars, one day.
JOHN
He is much too fond of 'Prince': he'll never live
To see a king. Whose thrall?—his iron collar,
Look, is the name not on it?
To see a king. Whose thrall?—his iron collar,
Look, is the name not on it?
SHERIFF
Sir, the name
Is filed away, and in another hour
The ring would have been broken. He is one of those
Green adders of the moon, night-creeping thieves
Whom Huntingdon has tempted to the woods.
These desperate ruffians flee their lawful masters
And flock around the disaffected Earl
Like ragged rooks around an elm, by scores!
And now, i' faith, the sun of Huntingdon
Is setting fast. They've well nigh beggared him,
Eaten him out of house and home. They say
That, when we make him outlaw, we shall find
Nought to distrain upon, but empty cupboards.
Is filed away, and in another hour
The ring would have been broken. He is one of those
Green adders of the moon, night-creeping thieves
Whom Huntingdon has tempted to the woods.
These desperate ruffians flee their lawful masters
And flock around the disaffected Earl
Like ragged rooks around an elm, by scores!
And now, i' faith, the sun of Huntingdon
Is setting fast. They've well nigh beggared him,
Eaten him out of house and home. They say
That, when we make him outlaw, we shall find
Nought to distrain upon, but empty cupboards.
JOHN
Did you not serve him once yourself?
SHERIFF
Oh, ay,
He was more prosperous then. But now my cupboards
Are full, and his are bare. Well, I'd think scorn
To share a crust with outcast churls and thieves,
Doffing his dignity, letting them call him
Robin, or Robin Hood, as if an Earl
Were just a plain man, which he will be soon, When we have served our writ of outlawry!
'Tis said he hopes much from the King's return
And swears by Lion-Heart; and though King Richard
Is brother to yourself, 'tis all the more
Ungracious, sir, to hope he should return,
And overset your rule. But then—to keep
Such base communications! Myself would think it
Unworthy of my sheriffship, much more
Unworthy a right Earl.
He was more prosperous then. But now my cupboards
Are full, and his are bare. Well, I'd think scorn
To share a crust with outcast churls and thieves,
Doffing his dignity, letting them call him
Robin, or Robin Hood, as if an Earl
Were just a plain man, which he will be soon, When we have served our writ of outlawry!
'Tis said he hopes much from the King's return
And swears by Lion-Heart; and though King Richard
Is brother to yourself, 'tis all the more
Ungracious, sir, to hope he should return,
And overset your rule. But then—to keep
Such base communications! Myself would think it
Unworthy of my sheriffship, much more
Unworthy a right Earl.
JOHN
You talk too much!
This whippet, here, slinks at his heel, you say.
Mercy may close her eyes, then. Take him off,
Blind him or what you will; and let him thank
His master for it. But wait—perhaps he knows
Where we may trap this young patrician thief.
Where is your master?
This whippet, here, slinks at his heel, you say.
Mercy may close her eyes, then. Take him off,
Blind him or what you will; and let him thank
His master for it. But wait—perhaps he knows
Where we may trap this young patrician thief.
Where is your master?
SERF
Where you'll never find him.
JOHN
Oh, ho! the dog is faithful! Take him away.
Get your red business done, I shall require
Your men to ride with me.
Get your red business done, I shall require
Your men to ride with me.
SHERIFF
[To his men.]
Take him out yonder,
A bow-shot into the wood, so that his clamour
Do not offend my lord. Delay no time,
The irons are hot by this. They'll give you light
Enough to blind him by.
A bow-shot into the wood, so that his clamour
Do not offend my lord. Delay no time,
The irons are hot by this. They'll give you light
Enough to blind him by.
SERF
[Crying out and struggling as he is forced back into the forest.]
SHERIFF
[To Prince John.]
There is a kind of justice in all this.
The irons being heated in that fire, my lord,
Which was his hut, aforetime.
The irons being heated in that fire, my lord,
Which was his hut, aforetime.
[Some of the men take the glowing irons from the fire and follow into the wood.]
There's no need
To parley with him, either. The snares are laid
For Robin Hood. He goes this very night
To his betrothal feast.
To parley with him, either. The snares are laid
For Robin Hood. He goes this very night
To his betrothal feast.
JOHN
Betrothal feast!
SHERIFF
At old Fitzwalter's castle, sir.
JOHN
Ha! ha!
There will be one more guest there than he thought!
Ourselves are riding thither. We intended
My Lady Marian for a happier fate
Than bride to Robin Hood. Your plans are laid
To capture him?
There will be one more guest there than he thought!
Ourselves are riding thither. We intended
My Lady Marian for a happier fate
Than bride to Robin Hood. Your plans are laid
To capture him?
SHERIFF
[Consequentially.]
It was our purpose, sir,
To serve the writ of outlawry upon him
And capture him as he came forth.
To serve the writ of outlawry upon him
And capture him as he came forth.
JOHN
That's well.
Then—let him disappear—you understand?
Then—let him disappear—you understand?
SHERIFF
JOHN
Why, first declare him outlawed at his feast!
'Twill gladden the tremulous heart of old Fitzwalter
With his prospective son-in-law; and then—
No man will overmuch concern himself
Whither an outlaw goes. You understand?
'Twill gladden the tremulous heart of old Fitzwalter
With his prospective son-in-law; and then—
No man will overmuch concern himself
Whither an outlaw goes. You understand?
SHERIFF
It shall be done, sir.
JOHN
But the Lady Marian!
By heaven, I'll take her. I'll banish old Fitzwalter
If he prevent my will in this. You'll bring
How many men to ring the castle round?
By heaven, I'll take her. I'll banish old Fitzwalter
If he prevent my will in this. You'll bring
How many men to ring the castle round?
SHERIFF
A good five score of bowmen.
JOHN
Then I'll take her
This very night as hostage for Fitzwalter,
Since he consorts with outlaws. These grey rats
Will gnaw my kingdom's heart out. For 'tis mine,
This England, now or later. They that hold
By Richard, as their absent king, would make
My rule a usurpation. God, am I
My brother's keeper?
This very night as hostage for Fitzwalter,
Since he consorts with outlaws. These grey rats
Will gnaw my kingdom's heart out. For 'tis mine,
This England, now or later. They that hold
By Richard, as their absent king, would make
My rule a usurpation. God, am I
My brother's keeper?
[There is a cry in the forest from the Serf, who immediately afterwards appears at the edge of the glade, shaking himself free from his guards. He seizes a weapon and rushes at Prince John. One of the retainers runs him through and he falls at the Prince's feet.]
JOHN
SHERIFF
[Stooping over the body.]
He is dead.
JOHN
I am sorry. It were better sport
To send him groping like a hoodman blind
Through Sherwood, whimpering for his Robin. Come,
I'll ride with you to this betrothal feast.
Now for my Lady Marian!
To send him groping like a hoodman blind
Through Sherwood, whimpering for his Robin. Come,
I'll ride with you to this betrothal feast.
Now for my Lady Marian!
[Exeunt all. A pause. The scene darkens. Shadowy figures creep out from the thickets, of old men, women and children.]
FIRST OLD MAN
[Stretching his arms up to Heaven.]
God, am I
My brother's keeper? Witness, God in heaven,
He said it and not we—Cain's word, he said it!
My brother's keeper? Witness, God in heaven,
He said it and not we—Cain's word, he said it!
FIRST WOMAN
[Kneeling by the body.]
O Father, Father, and the blood of Abel
Cries to thee!
Cries to thee!
A BLIND MAN
Is there any light here still?
I feel a hot breath on my face. The dark
Is better for us all. I am sometimes glad
They blinded me those many years ago.
Princes are princes; and God made the world
For one or two it seems. Well, I am glad
I cannot see His world.
I feel a hot breath on my face. The dark
Is better for us all. I am sometimes glad
They blinded me those many years ago.
Princes are princes; and God made the world
For one or two it seems. Well, I am glad
I cannot see His world.
FIRST WOMAN
[Still by the body and whispering to the others.]
Keep him away.
'Tis as we thought. The dead man is his son.
Keep him away, poor soul. He need not know.
'Tis as we thought. The dead man is his son.
Keep him away, poor soul. He need not know.
A CHILD
Mother, I'm hungry, I'm hungry!
FIRST OLD MAN
There's no food
For any of us to-night. The snares are empty,
And I can try no more.
For any of us to-night. The snares are empty,
And I can try no more.
THE BLIND MAN
Wait till my son
Comes back. He's a rare hunter is my boy.
You need not fret, poor little one. My son
Is much too quick and clever for the Sheriff.
He'll bring you something good. Why, ha! ha! ha!
Friends, I've a thought—the Sheriff's lit the fire
Ready for us to roast our meat. Come, come,
Let us be merry while we may! My boy
Will soon come back with food for the old folks.
The fire burns brightly, eh?
Comes back. He's a rare hunter is my boy.
You need not fret, poor little one. My son
Is much too quick and clever for the Sheriff.
He'll bring you something good. Why, ha! ha! ha!
Friends, I've a thought—the Sheriff's lit the fire
Ready for us to roast our meat. Come, come,
Let us be merry while we may! My boy
Will soon come back with food for the old folks.
The fire burns brightly, eh?
SECOND OLD MAN
The fire that feeds
On hope and eats our hearts away. They've burnt
Everything, everything!
On hope and eats our hearts away. They've burnt
Everything, everything!
THE BLIND MAN
Ah, princes are princes!
But when the King comes home from the Crusade,
We shall have better times.
But when the King comes home from the Crusade,
We shall have better times.
FIRST OLD MAN
Ay, when the King
Comes home from the Crusade.
Comes home from the Crusade.
CHILD
SECOND WOMAN
Oh, but if I could only find a crust
Left by the dogs. Masters, the child will starve.
We must have food.
Left by the dogs. Masters, the child will starve.
We must have food.
THE BLIND MAN
I tell you when my boy
Comes back, we shall have plenty!
Comes back, we shall have plenty!
FIRST WOMAN
God pity thee!
THE BLIND MAN
What dost thou mean?
SECOND WOMAN
Masters, the child will starve.
FIRST OLD MAN
Hist, who comes here—a forester?
THE BLIND MAN
We'd best
Slip back into the dark.
Slip back into the dark.
FIRST WOMAN
[Excitedly.]
No, stay! All's well.
There's Shadow-of-a-Leaf, good Lady Marian's fool
Beside him!
There's Shadow-of-a-Leaf, good Lady Marian's fool
Beside him!
THE BLIND MAN
Ah, they say there's fairy blood
In Shadow-of-a-Leaf. But I've no hopes of more
From him, than wild bees' honey-bags.
In Shadow-of-a-Leaf. But I've no hopes of more
From him, than wild bees' honey-bags.
[Enter Little John, a giant figure, leading a donkey, laden with a sack. On the other side, Shadow-of-a-Leaf trips, a slender figure in green trunk-hose and doublet. He is tickling the donkey's ears with a long fern.]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
Gee! Whoa!
Neddy, my boy, have you forgot the Weaver,
And how Titania tickled your long ears?
Ha! ha! Don't ferns remind you?
Neddy, my boy, have you forgot the Weaver,
And how Titania tickled your long ears?
Ha! ha! Don't ferns remind you?
LITTLE JOHN
Friends, my master
Hath sent me to you, fearing ye might hunger.
Hath sent me to you, fearing ye might hunger.
FIRST OLD MAN
Thy master?
LITTLE JOHN
Robin Hood.
SECOND WOMAN
[Falling on her knees.]
God bless his name.
God bless the kindly name of Robin Hood.
God bless the kindly name of Robin Hood.
LITTLE JOHN
[Giving them food.]
'Tis well nigh all that's left him; and to-night
He goes to his betrothal feast.
He goes to his betrothal feast.
[All the outcasts except the first old man exeunt.]
SHADOW-OF-A-LEAF
[Pointing to the donkey.]
Now look,
There's nothing but that shadow of a cross
On his grey back to tell you of the palms
That once were strewn before my Lord, the King.
Won't ferns, won't branching ferns, do just as well?
There's only a dream to ride my donkey now!
But, Neddy, I'll lead you home and cry—Hosanna!
We'll thread the glad Gate Beautiful again,
Though now there's only a Fool to hold your bridle
And only moonlit ferns to strew your path,
And the great King is fighting for a grave
In lands beyond the sea. Come, Neddy, come,
Hosanna!
There's nothing but that shadow of a cross
On his grey back to tell you of the palms
That once were strewn before my Lord, the King.
Won't ferns, won't branching ferns, do just as well?
There's only a dream to ride my donkey now!
But, Neddy, I'll lead you home and cry—Hosanna!
We'll thread the glad Gate Beautiful again,
Though now there's only a Fool to hold your bridle
And only moonlit ferns to strew your path,
And the great King is fighting for a grave
In lands beyond the sea. Come, Neddy, come,
Hosanna!
FIRST OLD MAN
'Tis a strange creature, master! Thinkest
There's fairy blood in him?
There's fairy blood in him?
LITTLE JOHN
'Twas he that brought
Word of your plight to Robin Hood. He flits
Like Moonshine thro' the forest. He'll be home
Before I know it. I must be hastening back.
This makes a sad betrothal night.
Word of your plight to Robin Hood. He flits
Like Moonshine thro' the forest. He'll be home
Before I know it. I must be hastening back.
This makes a sad betrothal night.
FIRST OLD MAN
That minds me,
Couched in the thicket yonder, we overheard
The Sheriff tell Prince John....
Couched in the thicket yonder, we overheard
The Sheriff tell Prince John....
LITTLE JOHN
Prince John!
FIRST OLD MAN
You'd best
Warn Robin Hood. They're laying a trap for him.
Ay! Now I mind me of it! I heard 'em say
They'd take him at the castle.
Warn Robin Hood. They're laying a trap for him.
Ay! Now I mind me of it! I heard 'em say
They'd take him at the castle.
LITTLE JOHN
To-night?
FIRST OLD MAN
To-night!
Fly, lad, for God's dear love. Warn Robin Hood!
Fly like the wind, or you'll be there too late.
And yet you'd best be careful. There's five score
In ambush round the castle.
Fly, lad, for God's dear love. Warn Robin Hood!
Fly like the wind, or you'll be there too late.
And yet you'd best be careful. There's five score
In ambush round the castle.
LITTLE JOHN
I'll be there
An if I have to break five hundred heads!
An if I have to break five hundred heads!
[He rushes off thro' the forest. The old man goes into the thicket after the others. The scene darkens. A soft light, as of the moon, appears between the ferns to the right of the glade, showing Oberon and Titania.]
TITANIA
Yet one night more the gates of fairyland
Are opened by a mortal's kindly deed.
Are opened by a mortal's kindly deed.
OBERON
Last night the gates were shut, and I heard weeping!
Men, women, children, beat upon the gates
That guard our happy world. They could not sleep.
Titania, must not that be terrible,
When mortals cannot sleep?
Men, women, children, beat upon the gates
That guard our happy world. They could not sleep.
Titania, must not that be terrible,
When mortals cannot sleep?
TITANIA
Yet one night more
Dear Robin Hood has opened the gates wide
And their poor weary souls can enter in.
Dear Robin Hood has opened the gates wide
And their poor weary souls can enter in.
OBERON
Yet one night more we woodland elves may steal
Out thro' the gates. I fear the time will come
When they must close for ever; and we no more
Shall hold our Sherwood revels.
Out thro' the gates. I fear the time will come
When they must close for ever; and we no more
Shall hold our Sherwood revels.
TITANIA
Only love
And love's kind sacrifice can open them.
For when a mortal hurts himself to help
Another, then he thrusts the gates wide open
Between his world and ours.
And love's kind sacrifice can open them.
For when a mortal hurts himself to help
Another, then he thrusts the gates wide open
Between his world and ours.
OBERON
TITANIA
Yet one night more!
Hark, how the fairy host begins to sing
Within the gates. Wait here and we shall see
What weary souls by grace of Robin Hood
This night shall enter Dreamland. See, they come!
Hark, how the fairy host begins to sing
Within the gates. Wait here and we shall see
What weary souls by grace of Robin Hood
This night shall enter Dreamland. See, they come!
[The soft light deepens in the hollow among the ferns and the ivory gates of Dreamland are seen swinging open. The fairy host is heard, singing to invite the mortals to enter.]
[Song of the fairies.]
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
Your world is growing old;
But a Princess sleeps in the greenwood,
Whose hair is brighter than gold.
Your world is growing old;
But a Princess sleeps in the greenwood,
Whose hair is brighter than gold.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
O hearts that bleed and burn,
Her lips are redder than roses,
Who sleeps in the faëry fern.
O hearts that bleed and burn,
Her lips are redder than roses,
Who sleeps in the faëry fern.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
By the Beauty that wakes anew
Milk-white with the fragrant hawthorn
In the drip of the dawn-red dew.
By the Beauty that wakes anew
Milk-white with the fragrant hawthorn
In the drip of the dawn-red dew.
The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer! The Forest shall conquer!
O hearts that are weary of pain,
Come back to your home in Faërie
And wait till she wakes again.
O hearts that are weary of pain,
Come back to your home in Faërie
And wait till she wakes again.
[The victims of the forest-laws steal out of the thicket once more—dark, distorted, lame, blind, serfs with iron collars roun their necks, old men, women and children; and as the fairy song breaks into chorus they pass in procession thro' the beautiful gates. The gates slowly close. The fairy song is heard as dying away in the distance.]
TITANIA
[Coming out into the glade and holding up her hands to the evening star beyond the tree-tops.]
Shine, shine, dear star of Love, yet one night more.
Scene II. A banqueting hall in Fitzwalter's castle. The guests are assembling for the betrothal feast of Robin and Marian. Some of Robin Hood's men, clad in Lincoln green, are just arriving at the doors. Shadow-of-a-Leaf runs forward to greet them.