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Poems

Chapter 117: THE LOVER
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About This Book

A collection of lyric poems that blend Catholic faith and rural imagery, moving between devout meditations—Easter reflections, apocalypse and sacramental themes—and lighter pieces of humor and local color. Many poems celebrate nature and ordinary labor, using pastoral scenes and ritual language to explore joy, absurdity, and resurrection; occasional satirical and ballad forms recall village life and pub-going episodes. Tone shifts from solemn processional verse to playful songs of laughter and love, often employing traditional meters and vivid sensory detail to unite spiritual contemplation with everyday experience.

TREAD softly; we are on enchanted ground:
One touch and every hidden thing lies bare,
The deep sea sundered, suddenly unbound
The awful thunders instinct in the air!
Oh, these we know; but what if we should break
A secret spell as easily as glass,
And stumble on their sleeping wrath and wake
The armies and the million blades of grass?
And find more dread than whirlwinds round our head,
The sweep of sparrows’ fierce, avenging wings,
The anger of wild roses burning red,
The terrible hate of earth’s most helpless things?

CHARITY

WHO think of Charity as milky-eyed
Know not of God’s great handmaid’s terrible name,
Who comes in garments by the rainbow dyed,
And crowned and winged and charioted with flame.
For Truth and Justice ride abroad with her,
And Honour’s trumpets peal before her face:
The high archangels stand and minister
When she doth sit within her holy place.
None knoweth in the depth nor in the height
What meaneth Charity, God’s secret word,
But kiss her feet, and veil their burning sight
Before her naked heart, her naked sword.

SIGHT AND INSIGHT

THIS hour God’s darkest mysteries
Are plainer than the screeds of men,
Tangled and false philosophies
Fashioned by lying tongue and pen.
Plain as those bastions of cloud,
Kind as the wide and kindly skies,
And in the wild winds shouting loud
The truths concealed from pedants’ eyes.
Pages which he may read who runs,
Where no unlettered man may fail,
Candid as are his noonday suns
Familiar as his cheese and ale.
Him, Whom our eyes may see, our ears
Hear, Whom our groping hands may touch—
Him we shall find ere many years,
And finding fear not overmuch.
Who gave me simple things to keep,—
Laughter and love and memories,
A farm, and meadows full of sheep,
And quiet gardens full of bees,

And those five gateways of the soul,
Through which all good may come to me,
Saints glorious of aureole,
The flying thunders of the sea,
And feasts, and gracious hands of friends,
And flowers good to stroke and smell;
Oh, in the secret woods He sends
The birds their trembling joys to tell!
He, too, is every day afresh
Hid and revealed in bread and wine,—
The awful Word of God made flesh,
Mortal commingling with divine!
Shadows and evil dreams o’erthrown
With Dagon and the gods of scorn,
Since Peace was in the silence blown
On that dear night when God was born.

CHRISTMAS CAROL

LAY quietly Thy kingly head
O mighty weakness from on high;
God rest Thee in Thy manger-bed—
Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby
O Splendour hid from every eye!—
La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!
“Ye mild and humble cattle, yield
Room for my little son to lie;
Your God and mine is here revealed—
Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby
Naked beneath a naked sky—
La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!
“Deal kindly with Him, moon and sun;
No bird to Him a song deny;
Ye winds and showers every one
Sing Lullo-lullo-lullaby
For men shall cast Him out to die ...
La-lullo-lullo-lullaby!

A GARDEN ENCLOSED

THE LOVER

AN hour ago I saw Thee ride in gold
Along the burning highways of the skies;
And now—Thou comest with soft and suppliant eyes,
And fearing lest Thy love seem overbold.
In this dear garden set with flower and tree,
My soul, a maiden whom a great king woos,
Stands thrilled and silent—Lord, what can she choose,
Dumbfounded by Thy strange humility?
Since Thou wilt have it so, my Lord, I bare
In love and shamefastness my soul—Thy soul—
So lay Thy tender hand, an aureole,
Upon my beating heart, my chrismed hair.