Tower of Ivory BY ARCHIBALD MACLEISH With a Foreword by LAWRENCE MASON Assistant Professor of English in Tale College NEW HAVEN: YALE UNIVERSITY PRESS LONDON: HUMPHREY MILFORD OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS MDCCCCXVII >^ Copyright, 191 7 By Yale University Press First printed, November, 191 7 ©CI. A 4 77971 DEC ~8 1917 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS Certain of the following poems have appeared in The Yale Review and Harper's Weekly. To the editors and owners of these magazines the author desires to express his appreciation of their courtesy in permitting him to reprint. FOREWORD On the departure for France of my friend and former pupil, Mr. MacLeish, in the Federal service, it became my privilege to prepare his manuscript for publication and see it through the press. In this editorial capacity I have been beset by but one mis- giving — the apprehension, namely, that the casual reader might, unless forewarned, read these poems for their lilt and melodic charm alone without ever penetrating beneath their surface. Since this would be a grievous vexa- tion to Mr. MacLeish himself, for in his eyes lyrical tunefulness is far less important than vital underlying idea, I venture to insist upon the intellectual content of his work and to suggest the fundamental conviction ani- mating most of it. Under various symbols he is passionately appealing for the intuitive apprehension of reality as against the baffling limitations of the reason and the senses — as, for example, in u Our Lady of Troy," where the tragedy of Faustus lies in his purblind viii Foreword reliance upon positivist science to the exclu- sion of the visioned aesthetic gospel pro- claimed by Helen. There are, of course, other ideas in the volume, such as the subtle qualitative definition in "An Eternity" the curious problem of remembered inspiration in "Echo," and the different reactions in the war poems; but on the whole his title, "Tower of Ivory," adequately represents his predominating idealistic conception, that against all the assaults of arid rationalism and crass materialism, against all the riddles of endless speculation and brutal experience, there is an impregnable tower of refuge into which man may enter, in the spirit, and find there the true values and eternal verities which alone can make him victorious over the world. So much for the content of his work: his command of the beauty of poetic form may be left to speak for itself. Lawrence Mason. September 12, 1917. New Haven, Conn. CONTENTS PAGE Foreword vii Our Lady of Troy 1 Echo 22 Grief 22 An Eternity 24 Escape 25 The Circle 27 My Body and I 27 The Bugles Pass 29 "To Lucasta, On Going to the Wars" ... 30 The Easter of Swords (April 8, 1917) . . 32 Sonnet (The Parting of the Ways) ... 33 Morituri 34 The Cost of War 35 The Showman (A Portrait) 36 An Antique Shop 37 The Silence 38 Maria Mea 39 Imagery 40 Immortality 41 X Contents PAGE The Altar . . . 44 Dusk . . . . 45 A Library of Law 46 A Sampler 48 Ballade 49 The 'Chantress 50 A Song for the Harp 52 Certain Poets 54 A Song 56 Lilies 57 Charity 59 To My Son 59 Soul-Sight 60 Jason 61 The Hills of Cleeve 63 Indian Summers 64 The Reed-Player 65 Baccalaureate 67 Realities 68 TOWER OF IVORY OUR LADY OF TROY [In the Dutch translation of the original Faust Legend, published by Spiess in Frankfurt in 1587, it is established that the ''notorious sorcerer and black-artist" was seized by the Devil at midnight on the 23d of October, 1538, while sitting with a company of students in the tavern of Rimlich near Wittenberg.] [Scene: The great room of an ancient tavern in the village of Rimlich. Stubs of candles guttering in their sconces on the back wall, and a smouldering fire in a wide chimney- place give an uncertain light. Three stu- dents from Wittenberg sit together at one end of the oak table. They are singing in high good humor. At the other end of the board sits Faustus, wrapped in a great cloak still wet from the storm that beats at door and window, and beside him is his servant, Wagner. A strange horologe on the back wall points to half-past eleven.] Tower of Ivory Students [singing] In duke jubilo — Drink and be merry, oh ! Wine is old laughter. Whoso will rise again Sickens and dies again Here and hereafter. No immortality But this reality Lasts a day longer. Drink and be merry, oh ! In dulce jubilo — Death is the stronger. Christopher Better lads! Some'at better, — you there, Fritz, Your diatonics would make Ockenheim Writhe i' the worms. You should have Ah — not Ah — On that first jubilo — o — o. Matthiolus Hush you ! We stopped the stranger in his tale. Our Lady of Troy He'd glimpsed at Eden from the Caucasus When you two started Duke — 'tis a tune I can't forbear the taste of — jubilo ! But come, good Doctor; here's to Eden. Health! Saw you the serpent? Faustus I saw naught to fear. There's naught to fear from Heaven through to Hell; Nothing that mind can't solve. Mind is the king — Fritz And queen too — ah the gold and scarlet minds O' Lasses! Hey lads? And the golden lips Of many golden tunes, — how goes the song ? — "Bursts the red grape, sweet oh sweet! Lips o' maid are sweeter." Christopher Be still, Fritz! That's an evil tune, — thin tune, Tower of Ivory No true antiphony. Grant him a space To save himself from craggy Caucasus Before you make a rainbow of a maid. Faustus Ah, you've the true mathesis, sir, the pure Sciential. Step by step your logic mind Works to the core of things; seeks me out first An elixation, seething of the thoughts Hot in the stew-pan of the brain before Elixir's had. All true philosophy Progresses thus; expulsion here, and here Assation till the pure digested truth Turns into fire, — else there is myopsy And phantoms seen. Christopher The true mathesis, Fritz ! You mark? I'm hailed philosopher. Fritz His eye Reflects a certain doubt upon his tongue. Our Lady of Troy Faustus The Epicuran, Leo Decimus, Had such a mind. He questioned how the soul Which was not, was, and then was not again Should be immortal; so he summoned him His doctors and his clerks and bade them speak Backward and forward, he digesting all Their doctrines and logomachies and rules, Believing here, denying there, and ending With Gallus' : "Redit in nihilum quod ante Nihil." And judged uncommon well. The soul, Or, as your Paracelsus saith, the four Seed covers of the spirit — what are these But thought ill-elixate, a crapula Troubling the brain? But I digress somewhat From Eden; so did mother Eve, but she Was woman. Man must ever set his face Toward the sunset, make his pilgrim way Into the West. There is no pause for dream With all the shining kingdom of the mind, All truth, all science, all the stars to reap, And Time forever clattering at heel Tower of IVory Like bones the children tie to yelping curs. So then, our true mathesis, next and next ! From Caucasus I wandered back to Rome — Three days in the Vatican invisible, Ate with the Pope, snatched from his holy dish Beneath his holy fingers, stole his cup Out from his stretching hand; oh saints! to see Him grasp for wine to cool a burning tongue, Blistered with meat, and miss the cup and stare Mouth open at its sudden flight toward Heaven, While all the table thumbed their beads and gasped Nunc dimittis, and crossed at brow and chin. They rang the bells three hours to flout the devil. Christopher They blamed the devil, then. — It's so at Rome: Lack food, lack gold, lack kisses, blame the devil ! Our Lady of Troy Matthiolus The fools! I follow Scaliger, who says The devil's dead. Old Trismegistus' self Ne'er saw him — only hoofspore in the sand, His ass no doubt. And as for your nine orders, Beelzebub, Apollo Pythius, Belial, Asmodaeus, and Abaddon, Diabalos, Meresin, Satan, Mammon, — Your hierarchy of sprites terrestrial, Sublunary, aquatic, — earth and sky, I'll none of 'em. Faustus Your sciolist in truth ! Your true agnosticus! "Unseen, Unknown" Is sacred text for schoolmen. I myself With deepest cabalistic — metaphysic — What have I found o' midnights in the flame ? No satyrs, cacodemons, foliots, No Bel of Babylon, no Greek Astartes, No fairies such as Paracelsus saw, Nor naiads that Olaus Magnus met And feasted with on some moon-stricken shore, 8 Tower of Ivory Nothing of these, — but one who is sheer mind, The globing crystal of the world wherein All knowledge gleams and darkens, one who knows The eagle's way in air, the snake's on sand, And man's way who is eagle both and worm. Matthiolus A marvel truly — was't Vergilius The sorcerer of Rome? Christopher Was't Aristotle? Wagner I pray you, master, hearken how the storm Breathes in the hush, and troubled thunder crawls Along the rim of earth. 'Tis almost time, 'Tis almost midnight. Hearken! Faustus So, my boy ! 'Twill be at midnight. Naming of a name Ne'er brought Shekinah sooner to the ark. Our Lady of Troy Wagner [hurriedly] You told them, master, how the bells were rung At Rome to flout the devil. Tell them now How you became Mahomet. Faustus Ha! Mahomet! To see me clad in linen setting forth A crocodility of hours and houris ! The sultan prayed to me; but Moslem faith Is no theology for scholars. Phew! I'll warrant there were heretics enough Fouling the sacred porches where I taught. Wagner And then the serpent ! I turned to gold. Faustus Ah, the golden snake Wagner The burning fiery ice ! io Tower of Ivory Faustus Here, lad, you're puffing out the tale. 'Twas fire I froze to ice — the crystal phlogiston. — [To Matthiolus] You, sir, will understand. But ice on fire ! Not Vergil's self had science to do that. Wagner And how you made king Alexander walk ! Faustus Hush ! Hush ! The emperor was not o'er- pleased And all of Innsbruck chattered in its bed. Fritz King Alexander ! Nay, we heard the tale. — A certain Faustus, a philosopher, Who had a magic to restore the dead And make them rise. Are you — Our Lady of Troy ii Christopher King Alexander ! And did he speak? Was't Greek? What said he then? Faustus No word. You understand my science ill Who think I raise the dead. The dead are dead. They lie who say that Iamblicus once wrought Centurions of Caesar out of air, That battled and were stricken and could strike. The dead are dead; — but metaphysic knows How smoke may shine like armor and be blown To features of dead kings. 'Tis so with all Man knows or ever shall know to the end. Mind shall be king, shall break in through the glass That shows itself, itself; shall analyse And test and know and fashion into word The thing that Is ; but no thought ever shall, Until this siderated sphere be burst 12 Tower of Ivory Into a million twinklings, build new thing, Nor call up life or beauty from the void, Nor make the dead whose flesh is dead, alive. Fritz I wallow in old ignorance. But still There's miracle in that apparent smoke You hold so lightly. Christopher Aye, that's miracle To make their hair move. Show us but a glimpse Of that smoke-Alexander, and your name Shall ride with Nostradamus' Pleiades Down to the end of Time. Matthiolus By Heaven, Yes! I'll write you in clear latin, with a boss Of gold and crimson, on the parchment roll Of Wittenberg's immortals. But no smoke Of Alexander. 'Twas a tearful king, A bulk of griefs. Our Lady of Troy 13 Christopher The Apostate Julian Declares his soul had entered into flesh Before he conquered Persia. He would be No better than a lion. Fritz Circe then ! We'll have a woman. What's an age-dead man? Old heroes are as thick as water-cress. But women, Ah! — the roses that are fallen, Stars that are dust, old sorrows and old songs ! What woman r Matthiolus Helen of Troy! All Helen of Troy! Come, call her back for us, let us see Helen! Faustus Nay, she would be but smoke, a puff of smoke, 14 Tower of Ivory Smoke and a shadow, woman and no flesh; What fool desires a woman that no arms May crush the wine of, and no lips find sweet ? All Helen of Troy, Call Helen up, Call Helen! Matthiolus Show us that mind can fashion out of air The beauty that the flesh surrendered up. Wagner Nay master, let these necromancies be, These magics out of air, these vaporous Appearances of flesh long turned to mould. The clock whirs for the hour. Oh make your peace With heaven, if there still be — Faustus Silence thou! The mind knows no conclusion, finds no end, But its own seeking; and my seeking was The true entelechy, the living seed, Our Lady of Troy 15 The root wherefrom this universe is blown A golden flower. Shall I stand because Time threatens me ? Shall I not rather flaunt My learning in the face of him and say: "Here see how I make mock of you, how I Have digged this richest treasure from the soil Of old forgotten centuries of time; How I, whom you shall conquer, yet strike down Your mystery and set this little brain The worms shall spoil, above your awful- ness — And all with science-ashes and a smoke !"? Shall mind fear death that knows within itself All life and all begetting and all end? [There is a sound of thunder and the rain beats heavily at door and window. Faus- tus goes to the hearth. The candles have guttered down and are now dead. The students lean over the table watching him. Suddenly he stands erect, flinging a hand- ful of ashes on the fire. The flames sink, then rise in a great flare. Helen of Troy stands on the hearth. She is naked and 1 6 Tower of Ivory her limbs shine like silver in the light. Her hands are at her breast. Faustus steps back.] Matthiolus 'Tis thou ! Forgive me ! Christopher O the wonderful Sad eyes, the lips like prayer ! Fritz Her beauty seems As all the tides of ocean ebbing down Out of the heart to her. Faustus Oh blind! blind! blind! Ye eagerly deceived ! Ye gladly tricked To dull believing! Fools! And I have sold My flesh and old rebellious hope of Heaven To doubt what you run panting to believe. I have forsworn all peace to keep aflame The will you quench in faith — the will to try Our Lady of Troy 17 All life and living in the Alkahest Of thought, to set the single mind above All seeming, all appearances, to match With sense all emptiness, to crumble faith Into its ignorance. This blowing smoke, This shadow of an age-long vanished girl — Ye gape and watch the fuming vapor twist And call it miracle. But to the mind That knows how light and shadow form and solve Into each other 'tis a petty trick Of eye on brain, a mimicry of life As senseless as the many-seeming clouds. Ye blind who live in darkness and believe ! I wrought the maid to mock you. Now almost I weep that you have suffered such content When such great light illumines. Mind has torn The veil that hangs before the Riddler's lip, Has found the riddle answered, — time and space And life and very dying has the brain Ground to their atoms and their ancient laws; And soul, and mystery, and stuff of dream 1 8 Tower of Ivory Are rainbow-winking bubbles in the bowl That vanish and are nothing. Lo, this ghost That makes a mock of them ! This thing of air, Smoke-wrought and smoke-enduring! Such as she, Appearances and shadows, are all things That flesh may not acknowledge, — yet the mind Has conquered even these, has found them vain, A nothingness, an emptiness, a smoke. [A great gust of wind shakes the house.] Faustus [turning toward the door] I fear you not; I've held the globing world Of wisdom in my hand. There is no space Of all the universe I have not won; No door is closed — shall I then grudge the coin That pays for this, or hoard the penny when The ribbon's bought? It's worth the taste of death To know that death is silence, and the dust Our Lady of Troy 19 Is all and end of our eternity. Nay, death has had no hostages of me; I hope no morning from him and I fear His darkness nothing. It is time. I wait. [The storm drops suddenly. In the hush the fire grows brighter, and the figure of Helen suddenly becomes a glow of light.] Fritz Look ! Lo ! She moves — her hands are raised — she speaks. Helen Yea, I am she whom men call Helen, maid Of Troy. Long years the beauty Paris loved Has been a stir of corn-flowers by that sea Where memory is a tide and summers fade Into the past like shadows. Faustus 'Tis a trick! A dream ! A phantasy ! The dead are dead. These are no words ! A shadow — 20 Tower of Ivory Helen I am she Whose flesh is dust, whose flesh can never die; Helen I am, and yet not Helen, I ; The maid that was, the proud bewildered girl A world made battle for, — she only sought Long silence, long forgetfulness of wars, And burning moon-fire, and the nightingales. But even dead ye troubled me, ye brought The wide flare of your searching through the stars To harry me, my name was driven leaf In winds of your great longing, I became All songs that all men sang me, all faint dreams That sought back into time for me, all grief Of hearts but half-forgetting, — I am these. I am the pain of young men memorous Of beauty that they never knew, and loss They never suffered. I am love that flames Sometimes at twilight when forlorn sweet names Of beautiful dead women make a tune Like lost Sirenicas. I am the fire Your passion builded, shadow of your hearts, Our Lady of Troy 21 A fallen leaf of dusk the riding moon Of your adoring shakes upon the grass. Lo ! I am she ye seek in every maid Ye love and leave again. I am desire Of woman that no man may slake in woman. This thing am I, — a rose the world has dreamed. [She vanishes.] [There is a long silence. Far off the storm moans again. In the darkness comes the voice of Faustus.] Faustus 'A rose the world has dreamed'; — and I, I stood Peak-high in those grey mountains of my mind And saw all truth, all science, all the laws Spread out beneath my feet. I sold all things To know that all I knew was all the world Of knowledge; and I bought — why, nothing then, — Or only this at last — a space to know That out beyond my farthest reach of thought All knowledge shines — a radiance of stars. 22 Tower of Ivory ECHO When in the winter of heart's desire Sirens are dead, and the songs of fey Jangled and flat on a musty lyre, What shall we call to-day? Miracle wrought from a laugh, a kiss, Mystery, wonder and breath of May, — How shall our hearts remember this When it is yesterday? GRIEF Hadst thou been queen in Babylon, My queen who lies so still, A proud tumultuous pyre had shone Upon thy burial hill. And gold and pearl and amethyst, Thy crown, thy gilded lyre, Thy very slaves had kept thee tryst In that high flaming fire. Lyrics And there had flung an ancient dirge Against the burnished sky, Like ocean threnodies that surge And swell and swooning die. But Love has crucified Death's fears, The grave has set thee free, And all the sweetness of slow tears Is turned to mockery. O white Lord Christ, Thy love's caress, Thy prophecy that saith These dead shall wake from weariness, Shames all who mourn for death; And faith in immortality, Affrighted blind belief That troubles death's reality, Has crushed dim fragrant grief. Nay, I were mad to weep for thee, — But oh thy silken hair! And oh the twilight memory, The darkening despair! 23 24 Tower of Ivory See then, it is not thee I weep, It is not thou art dead. Thy lidded eyes are but asleep, And weary thy dear head; I weep the silver dreams we wrought, Long years, long years ago; I weep the sun-drowsed days that caught Our dreams in their sweet flow. AN ETERNITY There is no dusk to be, There is no dawn that was, Only there's now, and now, And the wind in the grass. Days I remember of Now in my heart, are now; Days that I dream will bloom White the peach bough. Dying shall never be Now in the windy grass; Now under shooken leaves Death never was. Lyrics 25 ESCAPE Ships that down the long seas blow, Gulls that slope the winter stars, Ye that earth's wide highways know, Gleam of white wings, gloom of spars, Ye that follow shattered suns, Ye that seek the smouldering day, Lead me where the long road runs, Lead me your desired way. Through the intricate dim mind Seek I after splendid things, Never hearing where, behind Pulse of brain, the high soul sings. Toward the mirror of myself, Down the ways my own feet trace, Seek I the eternal God, Find I there — the seeker's face. Teach me utterly to leave This blind dream within a dream, Where the mole-like senses weave Out of their deep night a gleam; 26 Tower of Ivory Lead me where the bitter sea Stings unseeing eyes with sight, Mocks the heart's uncertainty With itself, stern infinite, Numbs the brain that comprehends Neither end nor endlessness, — Save the solemn flesh that tends Solemnly its vineyard press; Where the present hand of God Gleams across the tempest, where Naked I may feel His rod, Pray, unfettered then with prayer. Ye that follow shattered suns, Ye that seek the ash of days, Lead me where the long road runs, Lead me your desired ways. Lyrics 27 THE CIRCLE Beauty like storms driven Where my soul is caught, Peace like sorrow shriven Where my peace is wrought, Still I know thee riven Chained in me, low-brought, Wind that shakes my heaven, Rhythm of my thought. MY BODY AND I My body and I, we rested Under a thorn one noon, We talked of days long wested And nights in the moon. My body lay in shadow, Face in the grass, and said, "What thorn in what deep meadow Will blow when I'm dead? And how will you taste blueberries Bobbing in stolen milk, Or hear Baron Thrush to the cherries, Or touch spider silk? 28 Tower of Ivory How, when no flesh makes you weary, How will you find your rest, Heels to the logs and brown sherry, When body is dust ? There'll be no sleep nor forgetting, For I was lid to your eyes, I was dusk and sunsetting, I the moonrise. There'll be no lying in flowers Adoring the white moon's face, For I was time and the hours, Distance and space. Spirit you, I was earthen, But color and fragrance are A dust and a faint wind's burthen, And dust is the star. You are the sun unshaded — But I was mist on the dawn, Half-lights, shadows that faded, Glooms that were gone. Where then, where will you wander When body's crumbled and dead?" I'll lie long summers under And dream you again, I said. Lyrics 29 THE BUGLES PASS Who's for the war ! Who more Makes end of doubting! Who'll wake Now trumpets shake The earth with shouting! I know Where dips a way Has merry ending; There go The young and gay That sing descending. I know Where climbs a road Into to-morrow; There go The seed of God Toward the furrow; 30 Tower of Ivory I know Where shines the sun On windy spaces, Where low The shadows run, The swallow races; But Oh! When youth is gone The glory passes. "TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS" Now has all time culminated In this pulse of dizzy blood; Now eternity is mated In this swift suspended flood Of the sense that sings, Forever Does this perfect Now abide, And the brain that echoes, Never, Never, never turns again this tide. Lyrics 3 1 Oh, the desperate dumb clinging Of the unbelieving hands ! Oh, the nerves grown dull with flinging Up the mind's o'er-written sands All the fleetingness of wonder, All the moment's cresting foam, That withdrawing leaves thereunder Vanishing, dim legends where it clomb. Unforgotten, unremembered Shall thy beauty haunt the brain Like old magic cities embered Where the golden sunsets wane; — Ah, my love let be to-morrow ! All to-morrow is is now, All we'd lose and all we'd borrow; — Laugh, and prove all time more brief than thou. 32 Tower of Ivory THE EASTER OF SWORDS (April 8, 1917) Now out of this corruption has been born This incorruption. Out of this decay, This passionless, sick serving of the day, This staleness — from this seed, this rotten corn Of shame and doubt, has sprung this flowered thorn, This burgeoned pain, this fire. We that were clay Have lifted up our eyes, — and lo ! the spray Of bright swords and the challenging high horn! So Christ is risen, so the wakened soul Has lifted back the heavy stone and stands Aflame with morning; what then if it be Death, not the lily, shining in his hands? Already, ere the first reveilles roll, Our death is swallowed up in victory. Sonnets 33 SONNET (The Parting of the Ways) We had each other's youth; the halcyon At wrist, Hymettos but a sunny sail Beyond each morning's morrow, and the gale Set westward. Oh, we had the towering sun, The lift of the year, flood tide, — all things begun, None ended, none attained; even to fail Was tart grape under tongue, and life a tale That should have pause for reveries anon. We had each other's youth; why then what's lost If we who one time, 'top of happy hours, Found each the other and himself found most, Finding how self in all selves blows and flowers — If we who were one seeking and one ghost, Losing each other, find what loss is ours? 34 Tower of Ivory MORITURI Not as Ulysses, overwise with age, Shall we sail out beyond the westward gate Into the unknown seas. Not destinate, And weary of man's seeking, and the mage Of subtle-changing earth and that vast sky Where wonder walks, shall we sail curious To do the last adventure. Oh, not thus, Not satisfied with living, shall we die. But we shall meet death running, with our lips Still glad of the morning; and with widening eyes Still thirsty for the light, we shall surprise The secret under that old hooded Fear, And touch that face with eager finger-tips, And find but Change, who crowns with youth the year. Sonnets 35 THE COST OF WAR Oh, not the loss of the accomplished thing! Not dumb farewells, nor long relinquishment Of beauty had, and golden summer spent, x\nd savage glory of the fluttering Torn banners of the rain, and frosty ring Of moon-white winters, and the imminent Long-lunging seas, and glowing shoulders bent To race on some smooth beach the sea-gull's wing: Not these, nor all we've been, nor all we've loved, The pitiful familiar names, had moved Our hearts to weep for them; but oh, the star The future is! Eternity's too wan To give again that undefeated, far, All-possible irradiance of dawn. 36 Tower of Ivory THE SHOWMAN (A Portrait) A golden wind came running down the grass And in and out the sun and shadow went The stir of blowing dresses and the tint Of scarf and leaf and laughter — ay, it was The scene for her; she sat, self-mimicking, The center of her central-whirling world, And tuned her mood to mockery, and skirled A showman's lilting flourish on the string. Her words were swift as swallows in a gale — Darted and flashed and poised, and then in flight Essayed the Heavens, and then were vanished quite In some perplexing Orcus — ran the scale Of mirth from platypod to the eternal sprite — But never left the wares she had for sale. Sonnets 37 AN ANTIQUE SHOP Her chair now, see how curious the line Of dragons down the old mahogany And that daguerreotype — you almost see How red her cheeks and how her earrings shine. And that's her lustre crock for cherry wine, And that — ah, that frail web of filigree — Grandmother's wedding night-cap, worn when she First slept in that old bed you thought so fine. Ah, little bride, when you and I are fled Beyond the farthest echo of to-day, And all our hearts immortalized is dead, And all our love dreamed amaranth is grey — Think you a broken net of silver thread Could mark the world how joyous was life's May? 38 Tower of Ivory THE SILENCE A song between two silences Life sings, A melody 'twixt night and patient night. He strums his lute against the fading light To gild the shadow that the gloaming brings, And Love is but a plucking of the strings, A throb of music staying music's flight, A little note that hardly shall requite Thine outstretched hand that mars Life's lute-playings. Yet, when the last faint echo of that note Has stirred the cypress-leaves at eventide, When night has stilled forever Life's white throat, And his gold lute lies shattered by his side, We two shall follow through a world remote The silence whereinto Love's music died. Sonnets 39 MARIA MEA What more was She, whom men these thou- sand years Have loved and sung and reverenced and prayed, Than thou to me, deep-hearted little maid? She cradled Godhead in Her arms, Her tears Were for a visioned cross, a nation's jeers; Her joy, the helpless hands of God that strayed About Her throat, the lullaby She played An angel's song, a music of the spheres. But thou with patient faith in things unseen, Reliance on the beautiful, blind trust In love's eternity of life, dost screen My heart from my own heart's most bitter thrust, Making my love, late stained with this world's dust, Thy happiness, thy glory, and thy teen. 40 Tower of Ivory IMAGERY The tremulously mirrored clouds lie deep, Enchanted towers bosomed in the stream, And blossomed coronals of white-thorn gleam Within the water where the willows sleep — Still-imaged willow-leaves whose shadows steep The far-reflected sky in dark of dream; And glimpsed therein the sun-winged swallows seem As fleeting memories to those who weep. So mirrored in thy heart are all desires, Eternal longings, Youth's inheritance, All hopes that token immortality, All griefs whereto immortal grief aspires. Aweary of a world's reality, I dream above the imaged pool, Romance. Sonnets 41 IMMORTALITY I As it hath been, it shall be evermore. The shadow of the dawning future creeps Across the drowsy dial-face, and sweeps The graven numbers marked and told before By old forgotten hours. So ever o'er The paths of yesterday to-morrow keeps A slow insistent course, and evening reaps Eternity on every sunset shore. From slumber into slumber all things go; Our yesterday is dawned from infinite Oblivion; to-morrow's fading light Shall darken to that misted morn, and lo ! No terror clothes the oblivion we know. Breathe deep the gloaming of death's second night. 42 Tower of Ivory IMMORTALITY II Since Golgotha the learned doctors prate Of peace and easeful immortality, As if strange fruit of that accursed tree Had bloomed and withered but to dissipate Old fears, and that a glutton world might sate Eternal longings with eternity — A world content the cross of Christ should be Its suffering and death impersonate. Ah, Lord, wouldst Thou we let Thy blood redeem, Thy torture comfort, and Thy sorrow save? Or, restless, labor with the soul God gave, Aspire and suffer, follow beauty's gleam, Endure the barren agony of dream, And win brief life — not freedom from the grave ? Sonnets 43 IMMORTALITY III Nay, I have lived before, and otherwhere Have lolled against the breast of God's Unseen, And watched Infinities of Things careen With shouted laughter down the startled air, And caught the Truth by his entangled hair, And plucked at Beauty's burnished wing to preen A broken feather from its golden sheen, And smiled with Love, slow walking, white in vair. How else — when you come running to sur- prise My heart with sudden arms about my throat, And laugh with such a wishful little note — How else am I, Love's acolyte, so wise To know that dreams and passion turned devote, And joy grown sad, are Love with wide girl's eyes? 44 Tower of Ivory THE ALTAR I built an unnamed altar in my heart, And sculptured sacred garlands for a frieze From delicately petalled memories,— The fragrance of a word, the fragile art Of ash-gold hair, dim visioned things that start With radiant wings from mist of reveries, And vanish at the telling as a breeze Blurs mirrored stars in dark pools set apart. But, as I worshipped reverently there The symbols of the beautiful, there came A light aslant the shadows of my prayer That silenced mine uplifted lips with shame. The garlands coldly carven in that fair Unmeaning tracery enscrolled — thy name. Sonnets 45 DUSK Think not I may not know thee kneeling there, For all I lie so silently in death; Ay, ever as the candle flickereth, I watch the light weave shadow in thy hair, I see thy white hands eloquent in prayer, I hear the agony of sobbing breath; And words of faith thy sorrow whispereth Upon thy lips are echoes of despair. I hear — and wonder how one time we played At this; called Death's reflection to Love's glass, And blurred the image with a laugh, afraid. Now Death is come and gone, the solemn mass Low sung, the mirror shattered; fancies pass, And heart in heart we weep Love's body laid. 46 Tower of Ivory A LIBRARY OF LAW Adjudicated quarrels of mankind, Brown row on row ! — how well these lawyers bind Their records of dead sin, — as if they feared The hate might spill and their long shelves be smeared With slime of human souls, — brown row on row Span on Philistine span, a greasy show Of lust and lies and cruelty, dried grime Streaked from the finger of the beggar, Time. I wonder if the little letters there, Black-stamped and damned eternally to bear The records of old sin, must never long For that fair printed world of ancient song, Where, line on martial line, they stretch across The vellum's edge to some irradiant boss Of scarlet lettering, where sits a quaint Gilt-featured and attenuated saint, Lyrics 47 That world where they grow volatile and fling A spray of golden butterflies a-wing Up through the blue infinities of dream To brush God's feet, and flutter, wings a-gleam, About the veinless marble of His chair, And make a sudden splendor through His hair; That world where they drift ghostly down the dusk Of old forgotten twilights, toss the musk Of primroses against his face who reads, Make prayers from the clicking of old beads, Blow long dead summers through the naked trees Leaf after leaf, call back faint memories Of lips that once were sweet, and eyes once glad, And little hands that set the spirit mad With plucking of invisible lute strings, — All, all the vanished magic of dead things. 48 Tower of Ivory A SAMPLER She stitches quaint embroideries My lady of white hands, With fishes from the China seas And beasts from foreign lands. And flowers out of Araby And sage Saharan ants, And cockatoos from Nickerie And wrinkled elephants, And ships with swelling purple sails And cargoes pavonine, And whalermen and spouting whales, And porpoises in line. And cows of rich autumnal hues A-browse in flowered meads, And shepherd dogs in buffs and blues And shepherd boys in tweeds. She weaves them all into a net, And, silk for Circe's wine, Enchants them there with mignonette In intricate design. Lyrics 49 And thence methinks she has that art Whereby her fingers twist Into the dull web of my heart Silver and amethyst. BALLADE "A pilgrim cowled in light is love, Who kneels at many shrines and prays." So sang I knowing naught thereof. "He kneels beside the thronging ways And ever in the dust he lays His reverent soul at Mary's feet Beneath her all-caressing gaze. For only dreams of love are sweet." "And lo, a pagan god is love, His shining head bound round with bays." So sang I knowing nought thereof. "He breathes the breath of burning Mays Plucking from Autumn's lap of days Gold fruits of life to crush and eat, Yet lustful are his lips always, For only dreams of love are sweet." 50 Tower of Ivory But last I learned the truth of love, That carnal love the world obeys. 'Tis but a web which Gaea wove With warp of pain and weft of days, Where vast, insensate, o'er the haze Of mortal dreams she has her seat, — A web to catch whom soon she slays. For only dreams of love are sweet. Envoy How fairer than the garnered maize The shadows in the windy wheat, And throstle notes than roundelays. For only dreams of love are sweet. THE 'CHANTRESS Lo, the lady Margaret! Cunningly her fingers fret Witcheries in clay. She is Circe, sorceress Mulberries make red her press, Moon-ripe poppy blooms confess Her way. Lyrics 5 1 Lo, the lady Margaret Spreadeth beauty for a net, Springeth souls thereby, Springeth souls to light her clay, This for laughter, this to pray, This to dance the Spring away, And die. Lo, the lady Margaret! Her dark hair is springes set, Her two hands a spell. Whom she tangleth, him they bind, Ariel in oak-tree rind, In the dark clay, dumb and blind, To dwell! Lo, the lady Margaret! All her dryad folk forget, Bubbles in the bowl — April and the running seas, Stars and rainbows, what are these? — So her clay have foam and lees Of soul. 52 Tower of Ivory A SONG FOR THE HARP Iseult, Iseult of Ireland, The years are born again, Again Tintagel's towers stand, And blows the corn again, The russet corn again. Again, again the shoreward waves Make wondrous undertone, That whispers down the forest naves When melody is flown, When twilight birds are flown. Iseult, Iseult, remember thou How soft the music swept — Nay till the lily moon arow I'll dream that time has slept, All flower-like has slept. So softly was the harping wrought As in the web of sound The wings of melody were caught, And fluttering music bound, And moth-winged music bound. Lyrics 53 Iseult, Iseult, when night is drawn I'll cross the Irish sea, And in the moon's white fragrant dawn Steal down the dusk to thee, Across the years to thee. Iseult, my queen, all loves that were Born on a kiss and killed, Resurgent with the surging year, Are in the heart fulfilled, The secret heart fulfilled. Forget? Nay thou can'st not forget Nor peaceful close thine eyes. Upon thy rose the thorn regret Shall scar with memories, Scar peace with memories. 54 Tower of Ivory CERTAIN POETS Oh, words and words and words, — a twitter- ing blur Of sparrow wings that puff up from the rye When something hidden stirs there; up they fly A wheeling, huddled, undecided whir, And what it was aroused them, Pan or cur, Appears not, — save that 'twas a prodigy, A portent sure, and, with its passing by, A new world dawned, and grubs and rye- fields were. And so their verses go, — a clamorous puff Of words unformed, unbeautiful, distraught, That eddy in the mood like feathered stuff, And underneath the sound of them a thought, Of something hidden stirring, — like enough Apocalypse or naughtiness — or naught. A portent then ! a dumb and groping urge Of something blind like voices in a mist; 'Lord, but it 'wilders one ! To feel it twist Old earth with iron, mutter in the forge, Lyrics SS Threaten in smoke; — why, look you, we're a-verge Of worlds undreamt, and every silly fist That curses God's a sign! There's won- drous grist A-grinding, wondrous new-sown corn a-surge.' New worlds ! These things were seedling in dead Cain. But you, for you old magics yet remain Of restless whispering winds that press along Dim casements of the sense-enshuttered brain. Beauty has called you, and the worlds that wane From crescent into crescent of thin song. 56 Tower of Ivory A SONG Youth is old before his time, Helas ! Heighho ! Watcheth where the white stars climb, Readeth windy wheat to rhyme, Danceth to no tune, no chime, Heighho ! Youth is drear before his days, Helas! Heighho! Weepeth where the cypress sways, Chanteth Grief a doleful praise, Danceth to no roundelays, Heighho ! Youth is done with lovely Life, Helas! Heighho! Putteth Lady Hope to knife, Taketh Mistress Worm to wife, Hath no joyous Hippogrife, Helas! Danceth to no merry fife, Heighho ! Lyrics 57 LILIES Lily, red wood lily, Flaunting fairy lily, Lily springing where the heel Was down-impressed of Pan; Lily at whose throat the moon Flutters like a moth a-swoon — ■ Round and round thy shining reel Deft-foot things of Pan. Lily, Pan's red lily, Sunlight-drunken lily, Golden, golden lily tipped With dawn's drowned fire; Lily, burning lily, Mad and mad and shrilly Trip the hooves where Pan has tripped, Gleam the flanks mad Pan has nipped, Gyre, gyre, gyre, Mad and mad and shrilly, Pipes go never stilly, Hooves make eager rhythm where The song is thee, 58 Tower of Ivory Shrilly, shrilly, shrilly, Flare and flute note trilly, Hearken, hearken, hearken there, Shadows dance and darken there, Hand and hoof and haunches bare Encircle thee. O lily, red wood lily, Flaunting fairy lily, Never stop the piping of the Pan god's tune : — "Life's a music hath no word, Death's a lute no hand has stirred, Eternity's a rondeau in an old, old rune." Never stop their piping there, Never yield them — never spare, Lest thou dream Christ's lily fair — More fair than thou. Lyrics 59 CHARITY Since my Beloved chambered me To beat within her breast, And took my soul to light a shrine Her soul had decked and dressed, And caught my songs about her throat, — Dissected, known, confessed, I dwell within her charity A half-unwelcome guest. TO MY SON You are her laughter Blown to a rose, Singing heard after The song's at the close. You are the sorrow Was dusk in her eyes, You are the morrow Is night where she lies. 6o Tower of Ivory SOUL-SIGHT Like moon-dark, like brown water you escape, O laughing mouth, O sweet uplifted lips. Within the peering brain old ghosts take shape ; You flame and wither as the white foam slips Back from the broken wave: sometimes a start, A gesture of the hands, a way you own Of bending that smooth head above your heart, — Then these are vanished, then the dream is gone. Oh, you are too much mine and flesh of me To seal upon the brain, who in the blood Are so intense a pulse, so swift a flood Of beauty, such unceasing instancy. Dear unimagined brow, unvisioned face, All beauty has become your dwelling place. Lyrics 6 1 JASON I lay where stain of poppies crept Across a summer hill, And drowsy droning grasses slept With heavy heads, and wild bees kept Their slumbrous music still. I lay and let my lazy dreams Drift with the idle breeze Like leaves that float on autumn streams, Gilded as fairy quinqueremes, Down to their magic seas. I dreamed, — and all the fragrant earth Was as a sailing cloud. From tears and sorrows, for my mirth I wove a rainbow mist, and birth I folded in death's shroud. I dreamed, but ever from the vale Beneath the sun-drowsed hills, There rose the pulsing of the flail, The hiss of scythes, the mower's hail, The hum of water mills : 62 Tower of Ivory And through the voices of the fields A sweeter voice that said, "It is the coward heart that yields To dreams its heritage, nor wields A sword unscabbarded." Ah, voice that singeth bravely there, Dost think that dreams are peace? Dost think it cowardice to dare Eternity of blind despair For gold of fairy fleece? Lyrics 63 THE HILLS OF CLEEVE I heard the fairies keening on the uplands yestereve When scarce the vagrant grey of dusk was done, When sheep were calling darkly down the shadow hills of Cleeve And far below the village candles shone. I heard the hare-bells knelling in the wet wind off the wold, I heard the clouds go creeping down the hill, I heard the dew soft falling from the last long rifts of gold, I heard how singingly the stars were still. I heard the fairies keening on the uplands all night long, A-weeping soft and sadly for their queen; "She's vanished like the echo of her own forlorn sweet song, She's turned our twilight dance to twilight teen. 64 Tower of Ivory "Oh, dreams are only dim desires, and songs are only tunes, The flowers deck the graves of other years, The Springs are fleeting children of a thou- sand fleeting Junes, And only old and endless are our tears." INDIAN SUMMERS (i) The Day of Falling Leaves When gold October reaves The May's Lost Roundelays, When Autumn stoops to list The wind, mad organist, Pipe tunes Of dancing Junes, And Autumn's butterflies Drift earthward, petal-wise, A-swing On perilous wing, — Lyrics 65 (2) So, in our passion's death, When knowledge whispereth With wise Unholy eyes, And thy sweet flowered mouth Is grey with Autumn's drouth And love Dreams not thereof, Our Day of Falling Leaves Calls back the Spring, deceives The sense With transience. THE REED-PLAYER (After Macleod) A hollow reed against his lips He played a soaring strain, That fled his dancing finger tips Light as a swallow wheels and dips Above the flowing grain. 66 Tower of Ivory The Song of Songs it was, strange wrought Beyond the heather hills From memories and dreams, and taught By shepherd women who had caught Its lilt from mountain rills. The beating of a heart I heard In that forlorn sweet air, The singing of a distant bird, A sigh, a softly uttered word And echoed laughter there. "Play me a song of Death," I whispered then. He raised his hollow reed as one who longs To turn to dreams, and smiled, and played again The Song of Songs. Lyrics 67 BACCALAUREATE A year or two, and grey Euripides, And Horace and a Lydia or so, And Euclid and the brush of Angelo, Darwin on man, Vergilius on bees, The nose and dialogues of Socrates, Pon Quixote, Hudibras and Trinculo, w worlds are spawned and where the dead gods go, — All shall be shard of broken memories. And there shall linger other, magic things, — The fog that creeps in wanly from the sea, The rotten harbor smell, the mystery Of moonlit elms, the flash of pigeon wings, The sunny Green, the old-world peace that clings About the college yard, where endlessly The dead go up and down. These things shall be Enchantment of our hearts' rememberings. 68 Tower of Ivory And these are more than memories of youth Which earth's four winds of pain shall blow away; These are youth's symbols of eternal truth, Symbols of dream and imagery and flame, Symbols of those same verities that play Bright through the crumbling gold of a great name. REALITIES I The people of the earth go down, Each with his wealth of dream, To barter in the market town A star for a torch's gleam; To barter hope for certitude, And mysteries of love For passion's little interlude; And joy for the laugh thereof. They sell their treasuries of dreams For dream's realities, Their wealth of fairy quinqueremes For ships of Salter seas, Lyrics 69 Their gods for shapes of tortured stone, Their faith for shrines that fall, The unknown for the touched and known, Life at the living's call. They barter songs for the throat that sings, Frail dawns for drowsing days, Eternal moods for brittle Things, Thrush notes for roundelays, The flame of thorn and eglantine For fallow labored lands, Tall lilies touched of Proserpine "^or lilies of fair hands. They buy and pass no more that way; Their eyes forget the star, Forget the mysteries of May, Forget the dim and far. They build them tower and high wall To bolt against the spring, To shutter out the mavis' call, And heart's remembering. II But Time, a taper guttering, Drops in a slow decay. 70 Tower of Ivory And Youth, a white moth fluttering, Blows with the wind away; And walls and towers made of hands, And faith, and roundelay, And laughter, and red fallow lands, Pass like the withered spray. And certitude grows rank with ease, And idols turn to mold, And passion's cup holds bitter lees, And pale, soft hands grow cold; All shimmering reality, The world that shines and seems, The earth, the mountains and the sea, Are shadows of old dreams. Ill Yet when the splendor of the earth Is fallen into dust, When plow and sword and fame and worth Are rotted with black rust, The Dream, still deathless, still unborn, Blows in the hearts of men, The star, the mystery, the morn, Bloom agelessly again. Lyrics 7 1 Older than Time with ages shod, The matins of a thrush, Deeper than reverence of God, The summer evening's hush. Than trampling death is grief more strong, Love than its avatars, And echo of an echoed song Shall shake the eternal stars. 3W7-&