OTHERS.
NEAR AND FAR.
Near and far, near and far,
All the lights were keeping
Quiet watch with lamp and star,
While the roads were sleeping.
And I saw, far and near:
Starlight overhead;
While a woman’s shadow, here,
Made to-morrow’s bread.
Near and far; and I forgot
Stars must needs be small:
Lamp and shadow, knowing not,
Did so fold them all.
FRIENDS ALL.
Little Kathleen, when I was ill,
Offered the mass for me;
And burned a holy candle, too
As white as wax could be.
Little Kathleen, I think of her,—
It may be once a year,—
When houses sweeten with the fir
And bells ring out good cheer!
Hejà! But it is good to live
And walk brown earth once more;
And good to hear your fingers knock
At some familiar door.—
And O, to see them all again,
To see them,—though they say,
‘And did you take a journey, then?
And were you long away?’
O, did you take a journey, then?
And were you long away?
VANTAGE.
The wisest finding that I have
Is very young, no doubt.
Yet many a man must needs grow old
Before he finds it out.
How happily it comes about—
And I was never told!—
That we must all be young awhile,
Before we can be old.
A SONG OF SOLOMON.
King Solomon was the wisest man
Of all that have been kings.
He built an House unto the Lord:
And he sang of creeping things.
Of creeping things, of things that fly,
Or swim within the seas;
Of the little weed along the wall;
And of the Cedar-trees.
And happier he, without mistake,
Than all men since alive.
God’s House he built; and he did make
A thousand songs and five.
COUNSEL TO BEGGARS.
O, came you by the same road too,
The road that called to me?
And fellow-farers, will you learn
What shelter there may be?
There’s daybreak there to fill your heart
Red wine for half the way;
And gold there is of sunset, then,
To last another day.
(And fill your pockets with the same
Altho’ your need be small.
Take all the bounty while you may,
To have some wherewithal.)
And if you see the new moon,
I bid you tell the news,
And lend the slender silverness
For other poor to use.
And if your heart be sudden light,
And yet you know not why,
I counsel you to hold the joy;
Let pride of woe go by.
And if your feet be wearied out,
And you would rest therefore,
Seek out some house; but look you leave
Your sandals at the door.
For you shall find—tho’ sad to find
Where houses be so few—
Your too-much sorrow irks a friend,
If ever it irkèd you!
Take heart. And if the open air
No shelter seem to be,
Yet there you shall—and only there—
Have all that you can see.
THE TWA CHEERLESS.
Eh, is there nothing doing?
Then give your soul good heed;
And show yourself the miracles
That you would like to read,
As long as you’re in need.
And then suppose I sing myself
—And if you will, give ear,—
The very song I never heard,
But I would like to hear:
And this, man, will be cheer!
THE WALK.
We left the house, for we were sad,
To talk of all the griefs we had;
And little did we talk at first,
Leaving to silence all the worst.
The rain it rained and star was none;
The wet made two lights out of one.
And broken paths of shining yet
Made on before us, through the wet.
The more we walked and still would walk,
The less did seem the need of talk.
The more we walked from light to light,
The wiser grew the troubled night.
The tacit lamps proved something clear
As often as one stayed to hear:
And better ways, and endless clews
Dawned with the lengthening avenues.
Till where the street-ends met the square,
We found a thousand tulips there,
Sleeping as flowers sleep o’nights,
Beneath a thousand city-lights.
And then the Bridge from shore to shore
Solved everything forevermore,
So clearly, you could leave the Why,
Contented, to some by-and-by.
And time, and grief, were worn away
Till there was nothing left, to say.
REFRAINS.
‘I love all the world to-day!’
That is very young.
‘So I sing, the while I may.’
All the songs are sung.
‘God would never say me nay.’
Heed the foolish tongue!
‘There’s a singing in the tree,’—
All the songs are sung.
‘Nightingales! Oh, could it be?’
Heed the foolish tongue!
‘And the new moon smiles at me.’
Ah, the moon is young!
OUTSIDE THE MUSIC.
Now they come, and now they stop,
Now they all go in.
Now the coaches drive away;
And now it must begin.
All their faces looked the same,
Every time before.
If I heard it, I should know
More and more and more.
If I heard it, I would sing,
When I went away.
I would sing it till I grew
Beautiful, some day.
O, I hear a whiff of it;
There’s another one;—
And the coaches driving up,
After it’s begun!
THE FAIREST.
The fairest thing that men have made,
My lad, it is a Ship,
O, beautiful beyond the white
Wild bird she would outstrip!
So beautiful, so beautiful,
A heart must leap to bless,
And after her the wake of foam
Stay white with happiness.
And fairer than all things beside,
My maid,—a Violin;
Nay, aught that will give out again
The music hid within.
Or pipe or string or hollow shell,
It breaks enchanted sleep,
To win awhile the faëry heart
Of air that none may keep.
But all of you who may not go
To sail upon the sea,—
Who wait upon another’s whim
For hope of melody,—
Oh, bless your hunger and your thirst,
And give your spirit wings
To speed beyond a narrow door
The heart that sails and sings!
THE CHILD AND THE ANGEL.
Oh, is it you at evening,
And near enough to speak?
And early in the morning,
Your breath upon my cheek?
And when the city noises
Turn into clouds that sing,
Is it your veil around me,
Of hush, and wondering?
And is it you, at sunset,
Who beckon me apart
Till I am something golden,
With petals in my heart?
Ah, Dearness, somewhere over!
A happy child is this
That with shut eyes uplifted,
Waits for you with a kiss.
READING FOR THE POOR.
Young Pity passed us in the street.
Her eyes were like a brook;
And golden leaf and shadow bird
Darkened and lit her look.
Her hair was like the meadow-marsh
That reaches to the sea;
And on her cheek a wild-rose glowed,
The timely rose for me!
Young Pity never knew the word
She gave to men in need,
All clear and simple, in her face,
For working ones to read.
THE BLIND ONE.
O hide your eyes, my maiden,
And tell your heart to hush;
For love is very bright to see,
And louder than a thrush.
And all adream you wander
Alone in crowded ways,
Where eyes of all the fools and wise
Do follow, wide agaze!
Yet all in vain, my maiden,
To shadow eyes like these;
They shine behind your fingers
Like starlight through the trees.
So dream and shine among us,
Unwitting of the boon,—
How all the eyes, of fools and wise,
Are grateful to the Moon.
HOLIDAY.
When I am far from joy of this,
In yon thick world of men,
O, save me—save me, world of blue!—
That I shall thirst for then.
And when the little strength is spent
And little hope burns low,
Blow softly on that tortured flame,
—Fresh air from long ago!
THE FOOL.
O what a Fool am I!—Again, again,
To give for asking: yet again to trust
The needy love in women and in men,
Until again my faith is turned to dust
By one more thrust.
How you must smile apart who make my hands
Ever to bleed where they were reached to bless;
—Wonder how any wit that understands
Should ever try too near, with gentle stress,
Your sullenness!
Laugh, stare, deny. Because I shall be true,—
The only triumph slain by no surprise:
True, true, to that forlornest truth in you.
The wan, beleaguered thing behind your eyes,
Starving on lies.
Build by my faith; I am a steadfast tool:
When I am dark, begone into the sun.
I cry, ‘Ah Lord, how good to be a Fool:—
A lonely game indeed, but now all done;
—And I have won!’
DRUDGE.
I waited long until the sky
Should give me of its blue
To weave and wear, and share, and weave
The very stars into.
The days they went, the years they went,
And left my hands instead
Another thing for wonderment,
—The mending, and the bread.
Ah me, and one must set a hand
To burnish up the task,
And hush and hush the old demand
A wakeful heart will ask.
But with a star’s clear eye on me,
O, I can hear it said,
‘What souls there be, that only see
The mending, and the bread!’
THE YOUNGEST DRYAD.
What were you seeking? For my heart
Woke at your step and heard;
The farthest wakeful leaf of me,
And the hidden nest of the midmost tree
Hushed with its hidden bird.
Ah, but the rune imprisoned me
Till you should speak one word.
Why did you think the spell that drew
Fell from the cedar there?
You questioned pine and sister pine,
Lingered near ash and wild-grape vine,
—Doubted the maidenhair;
Ever you missed these eyes of mine
Too like the twilight air.
The Sun may call the dew to him,
The waters call the deer;
But O, my roots bind every limb
To hold me hid, apart and dim
And silent, and so near;—
And every leaf of me abrim—
With that you shall not hear.
COME BUY!
The flowers knew her through the frost,
Their own true-lover.
Rose crowding rose, the color crossed;
The silver breath could hover
Near and far, poor lover!
They wondered at her through the pane,
And through December.
And then she went her way again,
—Eyes trying to remember.
Have your day, December!
PRINCE CHARLIE.
O had you died upon the field
That was so grim to plough,
The tears had blinded every eye
That sharpens on you now.
For death had been a glorious gift,
With all you had to give,
And kinder than we stay-at-homes;
But ah, you had to live!
THE MEETING.
‘Good-morning to you, then.’
(O stricken heart of her!
Silence, silence, breathe for me
A little breath of myrrh.)
‘And so good-by again;
Good-by, if you must go.’
(Go after, little shade of me,
And tell her that I know.)
THE COBBLER.
A little cloud in a golden veil
At setting of the sun:
And I a cobbler working—working;
Work is never done.
A little cloud in a golden veil;
And I am mending shoes,
Never a feathered sandal thing
Such as a cloud may use.
A little cloud in a golden veil,
Along the bright highway:
And but for her, to-morrow were
Another yesterday.
And this will stay, tho’ she melt away
After the moon sets sail.
For no man’s sky is always gray,
—Cloud in a golden veil.
MIRACLE.
Love came by in bitter need.
Oh, but I was sad!
Love stood by in bitter need,
And I nothing had.
Empty were the hands I held
Silently to Love.
Empty, as my heart of words,
Stared the sky above.
Lo, Love took—and thankfully—
All my wish for true;
Then my hands gave back to me,
Full of kisses too.
OPEN HOUSE.
My home is not so great;
But open heart I keep.
The sorrows come to me,
That they may sleep.
The little bread I have
I share, and gladly pray
To-morrow may give more,
To give away.
Yes, in the dark sometimes
The childish fear will haunt:
How long, how long, before
I die of want?
But all the bread I have,
I share, and ever say,
To-morrow shall bring more
To give away.
O SLEEP, SLEEP, SLEEP!
Do not dream of me.
Nay, without mistake,
Even for love’s sake
And all heedfully;
Do not dream of me.
All day long am I
Leal to all you ask:
Wish and care and task,
Every need come nigh;—
Still to serve and try.
But with my Good-night,
O unrippled sleep!
What is here, should keep
This bewildered light
From its skyward right?
Let me feel no need;
Not a love that clings.
Let me have my wings;
Love my wings indeed:
Give my wings godspeed!
Do not dream of me.
Waking, I’ll be human;—
Call it child or woman.
Sleeping, I would be
Only Something Free.
THE CLOUD.
The islands called me far away,
The valleys called me home.
The rivers with a silver voice
Drew on my heart to come.
The paths reached tendrils to my hair
From every vine and tree.
There was no refuge anywhere
Until I came to thee.
There is a northern cloud I know,
Along a mountain crest.
And as she folds her wings of mist,
So I could make my rest.
There is no chain to bind her so
Unto that purple height;
And she will shine and wander, slow,
Slow, with a cloud’s delight.
Would she begone? She melts away,
A heavenly joyous thing.
Yet day will find the mountain white,
White-folded with her wing.
As you may see, but half aware
If it be late or soon,
Soft breathing on the day-time air,
The fair forgotten Moon.
And though love cannot bind me, Love,
—Ah no!—yet I could stay
Maybe, with wings forever spread,
—Forever, and a day.
THE RAVENS.
My eyes are blind with dust;
My limbs are dull with pain:
But my body shall up and after me,
Again—again—again.
They hover and wheel above.
Where I creep on, they fly;
And with their call and vaunt of life,
They tempt my soul to die.
And the numbness of my heart,
The length I have to go,
The dimness of my starving sight,
They know, they know, they know!
But the little spark I hold
Shall light me farther on
After the gleam—like a far-off stream,—
Until that, too, is gone.
Mirage—mirage—mirage!
But I say, I will not die
For the hoarse Despairs that wait, that poise,
—And I creep while they do fly.
No wonder they stoop so low;
And no wonder they should scoff
With Ah and Ah!—and beak and claw,
As they let me beat them off.
For there is no path to see.
But after the vanished flag
My soul has gone; and after me,
Body must strive and lag.
Up with you,—follow; come—
Whither my face is set.
They would have us dead: but I have said,
Not yet,—not yet,—not yet!
NEIGHBORS.
‘Who found for you the waters that soothed your heart-break first?’
‘Oh, who but these, my Sorrow, my Hunger and my Thirst!’
‘Who made your eyes the wiser to hail the farthest star?’
‘Who but my Dark I thanked not,—the Dark where no lamps are!’
‘And I come singing, Neighbor, to tell you, where you grieve.
And though my song bled, bled afresh,—yet would you not believe.’
THE MORNING SOUL.
O little cripple, with the lovely eyes,
What have we done to thee?—
For all our wisdom, putting out thy gleam,
Crying, ‘Thou seest not, it is a dream!’
Against thy cry, ‘I see.’
O little cripple with the lovely eyes,
What have we now to show?
With vext perpetual ways past finding out,
Teaching thee well the hundred things of doubt,
Who saidest once, ‘I know.’
O little cripple with the lovely eyes,
That music of the Sphere
We only sought to bind for thee secure
Some day, if it were true, for thee too sure
Rejoicing with, ‘I hear!’
O little cripple with the lovely eyes,
Flower of the broken stalk,
Have pity on our need, for it is sore,—
Of thee, thee only,—thee to go before;
Rise up, rise up, and walk!
THE HILL-TOP.
‘Look down upon thy grief.’—O heart of mine,
That path alone climbed here!
‘Look down upon thy fear.’—O heart of mine,
That cloud-shadow, my fear!
‘Look down on thy desire.’—And could it shine,
That sorry fallen ember?
‘Ah, in the valley yonder, child of mine,
Wilt thou remember?’
THE DOVES.
The doves fly out, the doves fly in,
Brighter than cloud above,
From thee to me, and again to thee,
Out of my heart, O Love.
My heart is troubled and hushed with wings
From the deep, beneath, above;
And the hovering flight of more white things
Than Earth hath the gladness of.
After one call they follow, all;—
Thy call to me, O Love:
Lightning out of the blue, but mine
In the likeness of the Dove.
FOUND.
O, when I saw your eyes,
So old it was, so new, the hushed surprise:
After a long, long search, it came to be,
Home folded me.
And looking up, I saw
The far, first stars like tapers to my awe,
In the dim hands of hid, benignant Powers,
At search long hours.
And did they hear us call,
That they have found us children after all?
And did you know, O Wonderful and Dear,
That I was here?
ALL HAIL.
O, Blessed of the dark, we meet along an unknown sky;
And here within the light of you, how beautiful am I!
The other worlds are dim around, beneficent with night.
But I—I turn my face to you, and have no other sight.
So poising radiant, strong with joy, in desert air divine,
One star doth to another call, and we belovèd shine.
We shine transfigured, shine, to know beyond all hope made wise,
The echo, echo of All Hail, from new-illumined eyes.
Who know not what your glory is, nor why my looks are bright,
I lean to you, I call to you, I shine with you, my light.
THE ANOINTED.
I was a little gleaner
Of all the days would yield,
When wonder overtook me
At work within the field.
The stars they gathered round me
Holding their torches high.
They cried, ‘Behold the chosen!’
And it was none but I.
They hailed me royal, kindred,
And made me understand
With gifts of light and darkness
They gave into my hand.
And here the wonder holds me
Though voices all are gone,
Here in the brimming silence,
With this to think upon.
The kiss upon my forehead
Forevermore is mine.
The sweetness fills my heart up;
The tears make all things shine.