Until one morning on the brown hillside,
One misty Autumn morn when Sun did hide
His radiance, yet was felt. No words we said,
But in one flash transfigured, glorified,
All her heart's tumult beating white and red,
She fell prone on her face and hid her wide
Over-brimmed eyes in dewy fern.
I prayed,
Then spake, "In us two now is manifest
That throbbing kindred whereof thou art graft
And I the grafted, in this holy place."
She, turning half, with sober shame confest
Discovery, then hid her rosy face.
I read her wilding heart, and my heart laught.
QUEL GIORNO PIÙ ...
Nor could we know when such days might be given
Again—we read how Dante trod the ways
Of utmost Hell, and how his heart was riven
By sad Francesca, whose sin was forgiven
So far that, on her Paolo fixing gaze,
She supt on his again, and thought it Heaven,
She knew her gentler fate and felt it praise.
ABSENCE
Methought I sensed her spirit here and there
About my house: upon the empty stair
Her robe brusht softly; o'er her chamber still
There lay her fragrant presence to beguile
Numb heart, dead heart. I knelt before her chair,
And praying felt her hand laid on my hair,
Felt her sweet breath, and guess'd her wistful smile.
PRESENCE
I still could hear the ringing of her voice,
Still see athwart the dusk her shy half-smile
And that sweet trust wherein I most rejoice.
Set to that work appointed thee to do,
Remembering I am with thee here and now,
Watchful as ever. See, my eyes shine true!"
Steadfast, of limpid candour, and could discover
Her soul look on me thro' the prison-bars
Which slunk like sin from such an honest Lover:
DREAM ANGUISH
Sometimes thou art near beside me, but a cloud
Doth grudge me thy pale face, and rise to creep
Slowly about thee, to lap thee in a shroud;
And I, as standing by my dead, to weep
Desirous, cannot weep, nor cry aloud.
Or we must face the clamouring of a crowd
Hissing our shame; and I who ought to keep
Thine honour safe and my betrayed heart proud,
Knowing thee true, must watch a chill doubt leap
The tired faith of thee, and thy head bow'd,
Nor budge while the gross world holdeth thee cheap!
HYMNIA-BEATRIX
Alone to do what I have joyed in doing
In your glad sight, suffer me, nor take ill
If I confess you prize and me pursuing.
As the rapt Tuscan lifted up his eyes
Whither his Lady led, and lived with her,
Strong in her strength, and in her wisdom wise,
Love-taught with song to be her thurifer;
So I, that may no nearer stand than he
To minister about the holy place,
Am well content to watch my Heaven in thee
And read my Credo in thy sacred face.
For even as Beatrix Dante's wreath did bind,
So, Hymnia, hast thou imparadised my mind.
LUX E TENEBRIS
Lady, without one thought, one base desire
To tarnish that clear vision I gained by fire,
One stain in me I would not have thee know.
That is great might indeed that moves me so
To look upon thy Form, and yet aspire
To look not there, rather than I should mire
That wingéd Spirit that haunts and guards thy brow.
DUTY
My shroud of flesh obscures thy deity,
So thy sweet Spirit that should embolden me
To shake my wings out wide, serves me for nought,
But receives tarnish, vile dishonour, wrought
By that thou earnest to bless—O agony
And unendurable shame! that, loving thee,
I dare not love, fearing my poisonous thought!
WAGES
Taps at my heart when thou art in the way,
Saying, Now thy Queen cometh: therefore pray,
Lest she should see thee vile, and at the sight
Shiver and fly back piteous to the light
That wanes when she is absent. Then, as I may,
I wash my soilèd hands and muttering, say,
Lord, make me clean; robe Thou me in Thy white!
EYE-SERVICE
Wherein deep water reflects the guardian sky,
Searching wherein I see how Heaven is nigh
And our broad Earth at peace. So my Love takes
My soul's thin hands and, chafing them, she makes
My life's blood lusty and my life's hope high
For the strong lips and eyes of Poesy,
To hold the world well squandered for their sakes.
CLOISTER THOUGHTS
(AT WESTMINSTER)
Lie waiting: we wait with them. Do you believe
That at the last the threadbare soul will give
All his shifts over, and stand dishevellèd,
Naked in truth? Then we shall hear it said,
"Ye two have waited long, daring to live
Grimly through days tormented; now reprieve
Awaiteth you with all these ancient dead!"
His ladder from the skies. Hand fast in hand,
With quiet hearts and footsteps quiet and slow,
Like children venturous in an unknown land
We will come to the fields whose flowers are stars,
And kneeling ask, "Lord, wilt Thou crown us now?"
THE CHAMBER IDYLL
Is over the hill; make fast,
Fasten the latch, I am tired: come soon,
Come! I would sleep at last
In your bosom, my love, my love!
Has the lattice ajar, that night
May breathe upon you and me, my love,
And the moon bless our marriage-rite—
Come, lassy, to bed, to bed!
Shall cover the stars' bright eyes;
The fleecy quilt shall be coverlid
For your meek virginities,
And your wedding, my bride, my bride!
Virgin in deed and name—
Come, for love will not be denied,
Tarry not, have no shame:
Are we not man and bride?
1894.
EPIGRAMMATA
1910
THE OLD HOUSE
Embosomed in the hills. The garden old
Of yew and box and fishpond speaks her mind,
Sweet-ordered, quaint, recluse, fold within fold
Of quietness; but true and choice and kind—
A sober casket for a heart of gold.
BLUE IRIS
THE ROSEBUD
One slim bud in her hand and cherisht it,
And put it to her mouth. Rose and she supt
Each other's sweetness; but the flower was lit
By her kind eyes, and glowed. Then in her breast
She laid it blushing, warm and doubly blest.
SPRING ON THE DOWN
SNOWY NIGHT
I knock my shoes, my Love lifts me the latch,
Shows me her eyes—O frozen stars, they shine
Kindly! I clasp her. Quick! her lips are mine.
EVENING MOOD
THE PARTING
"Adieu, my Saint," I said, "'tis come to this."
But she leaned to me, one hand at her heart,
And all her soul sighed trembling in a kiss.
DEDICATION OF A BOOK
To the Chalice of all my Sorrow,
To the Lamp held up, and the Stream
Of Light that beacons the Morrow;
To the Bridle-rein, to the Yoke
Proudly upborne, to the Heart
On Fire, to the Mercy-stroke;
To Proserpina grave in Dis;
To the high Head in the Battle,
And the Crown—I consecrate this.
1911.
Printed by R. & R. Clark, Limited, Edinburgh.
BY MAURICE HEWLETT
THE AGONISTS
A TRILOGY OF GOD AND MAN
MINOS KING OF CRETE, ARIADNE IN NAXOS,
THE DEATH OF HIPPOLYTUS
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