liililJii'iiiilUl!! l!lii! nUiiir^iti iiliiii!! WILFRID WILSON GIBSON illlllilllfiilllilDlillihilll ill: Class Book^ Copyright li^ COPYRrCHT DEPOSm ^ BATTLE AND OTHER POEMS THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW VORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO • DALLAS ATLANTA • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited lONDON • BOMBAY ■ CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA. Ltd. TORONTO BATTLE AND OTHER POEMS BY WILFRID WILSON GIBSON AUTHOB OF "daily BREAD," " FIRES," "BORDERLANDS AND THOROUGHFARES," ETC. ^m fork THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1916 AU rights reserved COPYBIGHT, 1915 AND 1916 By the MACMILLAN COMPANY 'Z^ /: APR 3 1916 ^CI,A428362 TO MY WIFE CONTENTS BATTLE PAGE Before Action 9 I Breakfast 10 The Bayonet 11 The Question 12 The Return .13 Salvage .14 ■^Deaf 15 Mad 16 Raining 17 Sport 18 The Fear 19 In the Ambulance 20 Hill-born 21 The Father 22 The Reek 23 Nightmare 24 Comrades 25 The Lark 26 The Vow 27 Mangel-Wurzels 28 His Father 29 Hit 30 Back 31 His Mate 32 The Dancers 33 The Joke 34 Cherries 35 The Housewife 36 Victory 37 The Messages 38 The Quiet 39 [5] CONTENTS FRIENDS PAGE To THE Memory of Rupert Brooke ... 43 Rupert Brooke 44 William Denis Browne 49 Tenants 50 Sea-Change 51 Gold 52 The Old Bed 53 Trees 54 Oblivion 55 Colour 56 Night 57 The Orphans 58 ? 60 The Pessimist 62 The Sweet-Tooth 63 Girl's Song 64 The Ice-Cart 65 To E. M. ..... 68 Marriage . 70 Roses 71 For G 72 Home 73 STONEFOLDS "The Ragged Heather-Ridge is Black" . . 80 Stonefolds 81 The Bridal 102 The Scar 126 Winter Dawn 139 The Ferry 157 On the Threshold 173 [6] BATTLE BEFORE ACTION I sit beside the brazier's glow. And, drowsing in the heat, I dream of daffodils that blow And lambs that frisk and bleat — Black lambs that frolic in the snow Among the daffodils. In a far orchard that I know Beneath the Malvern hills. Next year the daffodils will blow, And lambs will frisk and bleat; But I'll not feel the brazier's glow. Nor any cold or heat. 191 BATTLE BREAKFAST We eat our breakfast lying on our backs, Because the shells were screeching overhead. I bet a rasher to a loaf of bread That Hull United would beat Halifax When Jimmy Stainthorpe played full-back instead Of Billy Bradford. Ginger raised his head And cursed, and took the bet; and dropt back dead. We eat our breakfast lying on our backs. Because the shells were screeching overhead. 10] THE BAYONET THE BAYONET This bloody steel Has killed a man. I heard him squeal As on I ran. He watched me come With wagging head. I pressed it home, And he was dead. Though clean and clear I've wiped the steel, I still can hear That dying squeal. 11] BATTLE THE QUESTION I wonder if the old cow died or not. Gey bad she was the night I left, and sick. Dick reckoned she would mend. He knows a lot— At least he fancies so himself, does Dick. Dick knows a lot. But maybe I did wrong To leave the cow to him, and come away. Over and over like a silly song These words keep bumming in my head all day. And all I think of, as I face the foe And take my lucky chance of being shot, Is this — that if I'm hit, I'll never know Till Doomsday if the old cow died or not^ \V2] THE RETURN THE RETURN He went, and he was gay to go; And I smiled on him as he went. My son — 'twas well he couldn't know My darkest dread, nor what it meant — Just what it meant to smile and smile And let my son go cheerily — My son . . . and wondering all the while What stranger would come back to me. [131 BATTLE SALVAGE So suddenly her life Had crashed about that grey old country wife, Naked she stood, and gazed Bewildered, while her home about her blazed, New-widowed, and bereft Of her five sons, she clung to what was left, Still hugging all she'd got — A toy gun and a copper coffee-pot. [141 DEAF DEAF This day last year I heard the curlew calling By Hallypike And the clear tinkle of hill-waters falling Down slack and syke. But now I cannot hear the shrapnel's scream- ing. The screech of shells: And if again I see the blue lough gleaming Among the fells Unheard of me will be the curlew's calling By Hallypike And the clear tinkle of hill-waters falling Down slack and syke. [151 BATTLE MAD Neck-deep in mud. He mowed and raved — He who had braved The field of blood— And as a lad Just out of school Yelled: "April fool!'* And laughed like mad. [16] RAINING RAINING The night I left my father said: "You'll go and do some stupid thing. You've no more sense in that fat head Than Silly Billy Witterling. "Not sense to come in when it rains — Not sense enough for that, you've got. You'll get a bullet through your brains. Before you know, as like as not." And now I'm lying in the trench And shells and bullets through the night Are raining in a steady drench, I'm thinking the old man was right. [171 BATTLE SPORT And such a morning for cubbing — The dew so thick on the grass! Two hares are lolloping just out of range Scattering the dew as they pass. A covey of partridge whirrs overhead Scatheless, and gets clean away; For it's other and crueller, craftier game We're out for and after to-day ! [181 THE FEAR THE FEAR I do not fear to die 'Neath the open sky, To meet death in the fight Face to face, upright. But when at last we creep In a hole to sleep, I tremble, cold with dread. Lest I wake up dead. [191 BATTLE IN THE AMBULANCE "Two rows of cabbages, Two of curly-greens, Two rows of early peas. Two of kidney-beans." That's what he is muttering. Making such a song, Keeping other chaps awake. The whole night long. Both his legs are shot away. And his head is light; So he keeps on muttering All the blessed night. [20] HILL-BORN "Two rows of cabbages, Two of curly-greens, Two rows of early peas, Two of kidney -beans." HILL-BORN I sometimes wonder if it's really true I ever knew Another life Than this unending strife With unseen enemies in lowland mud. And wonder if my blood Thrilled ever to the tune Of clean winds blowing through an April noon Mile after sunny mile On the green ridges of the Windy Gile. [211 BATTLE THE FATHER That was his sort. It didn't matter What we were at But he must chatter Of this and that His little son Had said and done: Till, as he told The fiftieth time Without a change How three-year-old Prattled a rhyme. They got the range And cut him short. [22] THE REEK THE REEK To-night they're sitting by the peat Talking of me, I know — Grandfather in the ingle-seat, Mother and Meg and Joe. I feel a sudden puff of heat That sets my ears aglow, And smell the reek of burning peat Across the Belgian snow. [23] BATTLE NIGHTMARE They gave him a shiUing, They gave him a gun, And so he's gone killing The Germans, my son. I dream of that shilling — I dream of that gun — And it's they that are killing The boy who's my son. [24] COMRADES COMRADES As I was marching in Flanders A ghost kept step with me — Kept step with me and chuckled And muttered ceaselessly: "Once I too marched in Flanders, The very spit of you, And just a hundred years since, To fall at Waterloo. "They buried me in Flanders Upon the field of blood, And long I've lain forgotten Deep in the Flemish mud. [25] BATTLE "But now you march in Flanders, The very spit of me; To the ending of the day's march I'll bear you company." THE LARK A lull in the racket and brattle, And a lark soars into the light — And its song seems the voice of the light Quelling the voices of night And the shattering fury of battle. But again the fury of battle Breaks out, and he drops from the height- Dead as a stone from the height — Drops dead, and the voice of the light Is drowned in the shattering brattle. [261 THE VOW THE VOW Does he ever remember, The lad that I knew. That night in September He vowed to be true — Does he hear my heart crying And fighting for breath In the land where he's lying As quiet as death? [27] BATTLE MANGEL-WURZELS Last year I was hoeing, Hoeing mangel-wurzels, Hoeing mangel-wurzels all day in the sun, Hoeing for the squire Down in Gloucestershire Willy-nilly till the sweaty job was done. Now I'm in the 'wurzels. In the mangel-wurzels, All day in the 'wurzels 'neath the Belgian sun. But among this little lot It's a different job I've got — For you don't hoe mangel-wurzels with a gun. [28] HIS FATHER HIS FATHER I quite forgot to put the spigot in. It's just come over me. . . . And it is queer To think he'll not care if we lose or win And yet be jumping-mad about that beer. I left it running full. He must have said A thing or two. I'd give my stripes to hear What he will say if I'm reported dead Before he gets me told about that beer! [29] BATTLE HIT Out of the sparkling sea I drew my tingling body clear, and lay On a low ledge the livelong summer day. Basking, and watching lazily White sails in Falmouth Bay. My body seemed to burn Salt in the sun that drenched it through and through Till every particle glowed clean and new And slowly seemed to turn To lucent amber in a world of blue. . . . [30] BACK I felt a sudden wrench — A trickle of warm blood — And found that I was sprawling in the mud Among the dead men in the trench. BACK They ask me where I've been. And what I've done and seen. But what can I reply Who know it wasn't I, But someone just like me, Who went across the sea And with my head and hands Killed men in foreign lands. . . . Though I must bear the blame Because he bore my name. [311 BATTLE HIS MATE "Hi-diddle-diddle The cat and the fiddle*' . . . I raised my head, And saw him seated on a heap of dead. Yelling the nursery-tune. Grimacing at the moon. . . . "And the cow jumped over the moon. The little dog laughed to see such sport And the dish ran away with the spoon." And, as he stopt to snigger, I struggled to my knees and pulled the trigger. [32] THE DANCERS THE DANCERS All day beneath the hurtling shells Before my burning eyes Hover the dainty demoiselles — The peacock dragon-flies. Unceasingly they dart and glance Above the stagnant stream — And I am fighting here in France As in a senseless dream — A dream of shattering black shells That hurtle overhead, And dainty dancing demoiselles Above the dreamless dead. 33] BATTLE THE JOKE He'd even have his joke While we were sitting tight. And so he needs must poke His silly head in sight To whisper some new jest ChortHng, but as he spoke A rifle cracked. ... And now God knows when I shall hear the rest! 134] CHERRIES CHERRIES A handful of cherries She gave me in passing, The wizened old woman, And wished me good luck — And again I was dreaming, A boy in the sunshine, And life but an orchard Of cherries to pluck. [35] BATTLE THE HOUSEWIFE She must go back, she said, Because she'd not had time to make the bed. We'd hurried her away So roughly . . . and, for all that we could say. She broke from us, and passed Into the night, shells falling thick and fast. [36] VICTORY VICTORY I watched it oozing quietly Out of the gaping gash. The lads thrust on to victory With lunge and curse and crash. Half-dazed, that uproar seemed to me Like some old battle-sound Heard long ago, as quietly His blood soaked in the ground. The lads thrust on to victory With lunge and crash and shout. I lay and watched, as quietly His life was running out. 37] BATTLE THE MESSAGES "I cannot quite remember. . , . There were five Dropt dead beside me in the trench — and three Whispered their dying messages to me. . . ." Back from the trenches, more dead than ahve, Stone-deaf and dazed, and with a broken knee. He hobbled slowly, muttering vacantly: "I cannot quite remember. . . . There were five Dropt dead beside me in the trench, and three Whispered their dying messages to me. . . . [38] THE MESSAGES "Their friends are waiting, wondering how they thrive — Waiting a word in silence patiently. . . . But what they said, or who their friends may be "I cannot quite remember. . . . There were five Dropt dead beside me in the trench, — and three Whispered their dying messages to me. ..." [39] BATTLE THE QUIET I could not understand the sudden quiet — The sudden darkness — in the crash of fight, The din and glare of day quenched in a twinkling In utter starless night. I lay an age and idly gazed at nothing, Half-puzzled that I could not lift my head; And then I knew somehow that I was lying Among the other dead. [40 FRIENDS TO THE MEMORY OF RUPERT BROOKE He's gone. I do not understand. I only know That as he turned to go And waved his hand In his young eyes a sudden glory shone: And I was dazzled by a sunset glow. And he was gone, 23d April, 1915 [43] FRIENDS RUPERT BROOKE Your face was lifted to the golden sky Ablaze beyond the black roofs of the square As flame on flame leapt, flourishing in air Its tumult of red stars exultantly To the cold constellations dim and high: And as we neared the roaring ruddy flare Kindled to gold your throat and brow and hair Until you burned, a flame of ecstasy. The golden head goes down into the night Quenched in cold gloom — and yet again you stand Beside me now with lifted face alight, [44 1 RUPERT BROOKE As, flame to flame, and fire to fire you burn. . . . Then, recollecting, laughingly you turn. And look into my eyes and take my hand. II Once in my garret — you being far away Tramping the hills and breathing upland air, Or so I fancied — brooding in my chair, I watched the London sunshine feeble and grey Dapple my desk, too tired to labour more, When, looking up, I saw you standing there Although I'd caught no footstep on the stair, Like sudden April at my open door. Though now beyond earth's farthest hills you fare, Song-crowned, immortal, sometimes it seems to me [45] FRIENDS That, if I listen very quietly, Perhaps I'll hear a light foot on the stair And see you, standing with your angel air, Fresh from the uplands of eternity. Ill Your eyes rejoiced in colour's ecstasy. Fulfilling even their uttermost desire. When, over a great sunlit field afire With windy poppies streaming like a sea Of scarlet flame that flaunted riotously Among green orchards of that western shire, You gazed as though your heart could never tire Of life's red flood in summer revelry. And as I watched you, little thought had I How soon beneath the dim low-drifting sky [46] RUPERT BROOKE Your soul should wander down the darkling way, With eyes that peer a little wistfully, Half-glad, half-sad, remembering, as they see Lethean poppies, shrivelling ashen grey. IV October chestnuts showered their perishing gold Over us as beside the stream we lay In the Old Vicarage garden that blue day, Talking of verse and all the manifold Delights a little net of words may hold, While in the sunlight water-voles at play Dived under a trailing crimson bramble-spray. And walnuts thudded ripe on soft black mould. Your soul goes down unto a darker stream [47] FRIENDS Alone, O friend, yet even in death's deep night Your eyes may grow accustomed to the dark And Styx for you may have the ripple and gleam Of your familiar river, and Charon's bark Tarry by that old garden of your delight. 48] WILLIAM DENIS BROWNE WILLIAM DENIS BROWNE (Gallipoli, 11th June, 1915) Night after night we two together heard The music of the Ring, The inmost silence of our being stirred By voice and string. Though I to-night in silence sit, and you, In stranger silence, sleep. Eternal music stirs and thrills anew The severing deep. 49] FRIENDS TENANTS Suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways, We came upon the little house asleep In cold blind stillness, shadowless and deep. In the white magic of the full moon-blaze: Strangers without the gate, we stood agaze, Fearful to break that quiet, and to creep Into the house that had been ours to keep Through a long year of happy nights and days. So unfamiliar in the white moon-gleam. So old and ghostly like a house of dream It seemed, that over us there stole the dread That even as we watched it, side by side. The ghosts of lovers, who had lived and died Within its walls, were sleeping in our bed. [501 SEA-CHANGE SEA-CHANGE Wind-flicked and ruddy her young body glowed In sunny shallows, splashing them to spray: But when on rippled silver sand she lay. And over her the little green waves flowed. Coldly translucent and moon-coloured showed Her frail young beauty, as if rapt away From all the light and laughter of the day To some twilit, forlorn sea-god's abode. Again into the sun with happy cry She leapt alive and sparkling from the sea. Sprinkling white spray against the hot blue sky, A laughing girl . . . and yet, I see her lie Under a deeper tide eternally In cold moon-coloured immortality. [511 FRIENDS GOLD All day the mallet thudded, far below My garret, in an old ramshackle shed Where ceaselessly, with stiffly nodding head And rigid motions ever to and fro A figure like a puppet in a show Before the window moved till day was dead. Beating out gold to earn his daily bread, Beating out thin fine gold-leaf blow on blow. And I within my garret all day long To that unceasing thudding tuned my song. Beating out golden words in tune and time To that dull thudding, rhyme on golden rhyme. But in my dreams all night in that dark shed With aching arms I beat fine gold for bread. [521 THE OLD BED THE OLD BED Streaming beneath the eaves, the sunset h'ght Turns the white walls and ceiling to pure gold, And gold, the quilt and pillows on the old Fourposter bed — all day a cold drift-white — As if, in a gold casket glistering bright. The gleam of winter sunshine sought to hold The sleeping child safe from the dark and cold And creeping shadows of the coming night. Slowly it fades : and stealing through the gloom Home-coming shadows throng the quiet room. Grey ghosts that move unrustling, without breath. To their familiar rest, and closer creep About the little dreamless child asleep Upon the bed of bridal, birth and death. [53] FRIENDS TREES (To Lascelles Abercrombie) The jflames half Ht the cavernous mystery Of the over-arching elm that loomed profound And mountainous above us, from the ground Soaring to midnight stars majestically, As, under the shelter of that ageless tree In a rapt dreaming circle we lay around The crackling faggots, listening to the sound Of old words moving in new harmony. And as you read, before our wondering eyes Arose another tree of mighty girth — Crested with stars though rooted in the earth. Its heavy-foliaged branches, lit with gleams Of ruddy firelight and the light of dreams — Soaring immortal to eternal skies. [54 1 OBLIVION OBLIVION Near the great pyramid, unshadowed, white. With apex piercing the white noon-day blaze, Swathed in white robes beneath the bhnding rays Lie sleeping Bedouins drenched in white-hot hght. About them, searing to the tinghng sight. Swims the white dazzle of the desert ways Where the sense shudders, witless and adaze. In a white void with neither depth nor height. Within the black core of the pyramid Beneath the weight of sunless centuries Lapt in dead night King Cheops lies asleep: Yet in the darkness of his chamber hid He knows no black oblivion more deep Than that blind white oblivion of noon skies. [55] FRIENDS COLOUR A blue-black Nubian plucking oranges At Jaffa by a sea of malachite In red tarboosh, green sash, and flowing white Burnous — among the shadowy memories That haunt me yet by these bleak Northern seas He lives for ever in my eyes' delight, Bizarre, superb in young immortal might — A god of old barbaric mysteries. Maybe he lived a life of lies and lust: Maybe his bones are now but scattered dust: Yet, for a moment he was life supreme Exultant and unchallenged: and my rhyme Would set him safely out of reach of time In that old heaven where things are what they seem. [56] NIGHT NIGHT Vesuvius, purple under purple skies Beyond the purple, still, unrippling sea; Sheer amber lightning, streaming ceaselessly From heaven to earth, dazzling bewildered eyes With all the terror of beauty: thus day dies That dawned in blue, unclouded innocency; And thus we look our last on Italy That soon, obscured by night, behind us lies. And night descends on us, tempestuous night, Night, torn with terror, as we sail the deep; And like a cataract down a mountain-steep Pours, loud with thunder, that red perilous fire. . . . Yet shall the dawn, O land of our desire. Show thee again, re-orient, crowned with light! [57] FRIENDS THE ORPHANS At five o'clock one April morn I met them making tracks, Young Benjamin and Abel Horn, With bundles on their backs. Young Benjamin is seventy-five. Young Abel, seventy -seven — The oldest innocents alive Beneath that April heaven. I asked them why they trudged about With crabby looks and sour — "And does your mother know you're out At this unearthly hour?" [581 THE ORPHANS They stopped: and scowling up at me Each shook a grizzled head. And swore; and then spat bitterly, As with one voice they said : "Homeless, about the country-side We never thought to roam; But mother, she has gone and died. And broken up the home." [591 FRIENDS ? Mooning in the moonlight I met a mottled pig, Grubbing mast and acorn, On the Gallows Rigg. "Tell, oh tell me truly, While I wander blind. Do your peepy pig's eyes Really see the wind — "See the great wind flowing Darkling and agleam Through the fields of heaven In a crystal stream? [60] ? *'Do the singing eddies Break on bough and twig Into silvery sparkles For your eyes, O pig? "Do celestial surges Sweep across the night Like a sea of glory In your blessed sight? "Tell, oh tell me truly!" But the mottled pig Grubbing mast and acorns. Did not care a fig. 61 FRIENDS THE PESSIMIST His body bulged with puppies — little eyes Peeped out of every pocket, black and bright; And with as innocent, round-eyed surprise He watched the glittering traffic of the night. "What this world's coming to I cannot tell," He muttered, as I passed him, with a whine — "Things surely must be making slap for hell, When no one wants these little dogs of mine." [62] THE SWEET-TOOTH THE SWEET-TOOTH Taking a turn after tea Through orchards of Mirabelea Where clusters of yellow and red Dangled and glowed overhead. Who should I see But old Timothy, Hale and hearty as hearty could be — Timothy under a crab-apple tree. His blue eyes twinkling at me, Munching and crunching with glee And wagging his wicked old head, "IVe still got a sweet -tooth," he said, *'A hundred and three Come January, I've one tooth left in my head," said he — Timothy under the crab-apple tree. [631 FRIENDS GIRL'S SONG I saw three black pigs riding In a blue and yellow cart — Three black pigs riding to the fair Behind the old grey dappled mare — But it wasn't black pigs riding In a gay and gaudy cart That sent me into hiding With a flutter in my heart. I heard the cart returning, The jolting jingling cart — Returning empty from the fair Behind the old jog-trotting mare — ' But it wasn't the returning Of a clattering, empty cart That sent the hot blood burning And throbbing through my heart. [64 1 THE ICE-CART THE ICE-CART Perched on my city office-stool, I watched with envy, while a cool And lucky carter handled ice. . . . And I was wandering in a trice. Far from the grey and grimy heat Of that intolerable street. O'er sapphire berg and emerald floe, Beneath the still, cold ruby glow Of everlasting Polar night, Bewildered by the queer half-light. Until I stumbled, unawares. Upon a creek where big white bears Plunged headlong down with flourished heels And floundered after shining seals Through shivering seas of blinding blue. And as I watched them, ere I knew, [65] FRIENDS I'd stripped, and I was swimming, too. Among the seal-pack, young and hale. And thrusting on with threshing tail. With twist and twirl and sudden leap Through crackling ice and salty deep — Diving and doubling with my kind, Until, at last, we left behind Those big, white, blundering bulks of death. And lay, at length, with panting breath Upon a far untravelled floe. Beneath a gentle drift of snow — Snow drifting gently, fine and white. Out of the endless Polar night. Falling and falling evermore Upon that far untravelled shore. Till I was buried fathoms deep Beneath that cold white drifting sleep — [661 THE ICE-CART Sleep drifting deep, Deep drifting sleep. . . . The carter cracked a sudden whip: I clutched my stool with startled grip, Awakening to the grimy heat Of that intolerable street. [67] FRIENDS TO E. M. (In memory of R. B.) The night we saw the stacks of timber blaze To terrible golden fury, young and strong He watched between us with dream-dazzled gaze Aflame, and burning like a god of song, As we together stood against the throng Drawn from the midnight of the city ways. To-night the world about us is ablaze And he is dead, is dead. . . . Yet, young and strong He watches with us still with deathless gaze [68] TO E. M. Aflame, and burning like a god of song, As we together stand against the throng Drawn from the bottomless midnight of hell's ways. 10th June, 1915. [69] FRIENDS MARRIAGE Going my way of old Contented more or less I dreamt not life could hold Such happiness. I dreamt not that love's way Could keep the golden height Day after happy day. Night after night. [70] ROSES ROSES Red roses floating in a crystal bowl You bring, O love; and in your eyes I see, Blossom on blossom, your warm love of me Burning within the crystal of your soul — Red roses floating in a crystal bowl. [71] FRIENDS FOR G. All night under the moon Plovers are flying Over the dreaming meadows of silvery light, Over the meadows of June Flying and crying — Wandering voices of love in the hush of the night. All night under the moon, Love, though we're lying Quietly under the thatch, in silvery light Over the meadows of June Together we're flying — Rapturous voices of love in the hush of the night. [72] HOME HOME I RETURN Under the brown bird-haunted eaves of thatch The hollyhocks in crimson glory burned Against black timbers and old rosy brick, And over the green door in clusters thick Hung tangled passion-flowers, when we re- turned To our own threshold : and with hand on latch We stood a moment in the sunset gleam And looked upon our home as in a dream. Rapt in a golden glow of still delight Together on the threshold in the sun We stood rejoicing that we two had won [73] FRIENDS To this deep golden peace ere day was done, That over gloomy plain and storm-swept height We two, O love, had won to home ere night. II CANDLE-LIGHT Where through the open window I could see The supper-table in the golden light Of tall white candles — brasses glinting bright On the black gleaming board, and crockery Coloured like gardens of old Araby — In your blue gown against the walls of white You stood adream, and in the starry night I felt strange loneliness steal over me. You stood with eyes upon the candle flame That kindled your thick hair to burnished gold, [74] HOME As in a golden spell that seemed to hold My heart's love rapt from me for evermore. . . . And then you stirred, and opening the door, Into the starry night you breathed my name. Ill FIRELIGHT Against the curtained casement wind and sleet Rattle and thresh, while snug by our own fire In dear companionship that naught may tire We sit, — you listening, sewing in your seat, Half-dreaming in the glow of light and heat, I reading some old tale of love's desire That swept on gold wings to disaster dire Then sprang re-orient from black defeat. I close the book, and louder yet the storm Threshes without. Your busy hands are still; [75] FRIENDS And on your face and hair the light is warm. As we sit gazing on the coals' red gleam In a gold glow of happiness, and dream Diviner dreams the years shall yet fulfil. IV MIDNIGHT Between the midnight pillars of black elms The old moon hangs, a thin, cold, amber flame Over low ghostly mist: a lone snipe wheels Through shadowy moonshine, droning: and there steals Into my heart a fear without a name Out of primaeval night's resurgent realms. Unearthly terror, chilling me with dread As I lie waking wide-eyed on the bed. And then you turn towards me in your sleep Murmuring, and with a sigh of deep content [761 HOME You nestle to my breast; and over me Steals the warm peace of you; and, all fear spent, I hold you to me sleeping quietly. Till I, too, sink in slumber sound and deep. [77] STONEFOLDS * These dramatic poems were written in 1906. [79] The ragged heather-ridge is black Against the sunset's frosty rose; With rustling breathy down syke and slack. The icy, eager north-wind blows. It shivers through my hair, and flicks The blood into my tingling cheek; And with adventurous urging pricks My spirit, that in drowsy reek Of gloudng peats had dreamt too long. Crouched in the cosy ingle-nook, Till life seemed vainer than the song The kettle sings upon the crook — Till life seemed vainer than the puff Of steam that perished in hot air — A fretful fume, a vapour stuff Of gusty passion, cloudy care. But as, once more, I watch the stars Re-kindle iri the glittering west. Beyond the fell-top's naked scars. Life rouses in me with new zest. The immortal wakens in my blood Beneath the wind's relentless thresh; And universal life at flood Breaks through the bonds of bone and flesh. I scale the utmost peak of night. The eternal breath upon my face; Till, borne on plumes of singing light, I lose myself in starry space. [801 STONEFOLDS Persons: Nicholas Thirlwall, an old shepherd. Rachel Thirlwall, his wife. Ruth Thirlwall, his daughter. Ralph Moore, a young shepherd, Nicholas' nephew. Scene: The living-room of Stonefolds^ a shep- herd's house on the fells. A door opens on to the yard, another to the back of the Jiouse. Nicholas, an infirm, old man, sits on the settle by the peat-fire with his back to the outer door. His wife, Rachel, moves about putting things away in a cupboard, tending the fire, &c. A clock in the corner ticks loudly. Storm rages without [811 STONEFOLDS Nicholas. Is Ralph there? Rachel. Nay, he's gone back to the fold. Nicholas. If only I might go with him! It's strange The year's lambs should be born, and I not there. The labouring ewes will miss my hand to- night; Though Ralph's a careful fellow, he is young; And six-and-fifty lambings have I seen. It's hard, it's hard that I sit crippled here When there's so much to do — so much to do! That I, who should be tending the young lambs, As helpless as a yeanling crouch and shake Beside the peats, and shudder at the night. [82] STONEFOLDS Rachel. It's a wild night! See how beneath the door The snow has silted. It's a perilous night For young things to be born. Hark to the wind ! Nicholas. Ay, it's the lambing-storm. Rachel. I'll set a pan Of milk upon the hob, for Ralph may bring Some motherless lamb to tend before the fire. Nicholas. It's hard, it's hard that all may help but me — While I have seen so many young things bom, So many perish in my time. Worn out. Useless and old, I sit before the fire Warming my hands that once were never cold. And now are never warm. I sit and shake [83] STONEFOLDS Like quaking-grass, and cannot even rise To shift my seat, or turn my hand to aught, When there's so much to do. (A noise as of someone knocking the snow off his boots against the threshold.) What's that? Rachel. It's Ralph. {Tlie door opens ^ and Ralph comes in, white with snow, carrying a lantJiorn, and a new-born lamb wrapped in his plaid. He looks about him, as though expecting to see someone with Nicholas and Rachel; then, ivith a sigh, he sets down the Ian- thorn on the table, and carries the lamb to the Jiearth, and lays it on the rug before the fire, while Rachel fills a bottle with warm milk.) Ralph. The old lame ewe is dead. I've brought her lamb [84] STONEFOLDS To lie before the fire; but it is weak And like to die. Nicholas. Had I but tended her! Ralph. The ewe was old. Nicholas. Ay, ay, the ewe was old, And so must die, and none pay any heed ! I, too, am old — I, too, am growing old. Ralph, to Rachel^ who is kneeling by the lamb. You keep the yeanling warm till I come back, I doubt that it can live; but I must go. {Takes his lanthorn and goes out.) Rachel. Ralph's a good lad and has a tender heart. [85] STONEFOLDS Nicholas. Ay, he's a careful fellow. He should wed. At his age I'd been wed hard on a year. Rachel. But Ralph will never wed. Nicholas. Why should he not? He is a likely lad. Why should he not? Rachel. It's just a year to-night since Ruth left home. Nicholas. Ruth! What of Ruth? The lass has made her bed, And she must lie upon it now. Rachel. Poor Ruth! Yet, Ralph will never wed. [86] STONEFOLDS Nicholas. How can you tell? Rachel. I watch him as he sits before the fire Each night in his own corner, with still eyes That gaze and gaze into the glowing peats Until they burn as fiercely as the flame On which they feed; and sometimes, suddenly. His fingers grip the settle till it shakes; And when I speak he heeds not, till the light Has perished from his eyes, and, dull as ash. They look upon the crumbling peats once more. Nicholas. A woman's fancies! Ralph is not a boy To peak and pine because a silly wench. Who, if she'd had but wit, might be his wife, Flits one fine night. O Ruth! to give up Ralph [87] STONEFOLDS For that young wastrel, Michael! Ralph must wed The sooner if he broods. A wife and babes Will leave him little time for idle brooding. He's not the fool his father was. Rachel. Poor Ruth! Yet, Ralph will never wed. At other times, I see him sit and hearken all night long As though he fretted for some well-known foot — Listening with his whole body, like a hare — Bolt-upright on the settle; every nerve Astrain to catch the never-falling sound Of home-returning steps. Only last night I watched him till my heart was sore for him. He seemed to listen with his very eyes. That gleamed like some wild creature's. {The clock strikes.) It's gone ten. [881 STONEFOLDS Come, Nicholas, I will help you to your bed. Nicholas. Nay, nay! I'll not to bed to-night. Why, lass, I have not gone to bed at lambing-time Since I could hold a Ian thorn! That must be Nigh sixty years; and I'll not sleep to-night. Though I be as much use asleep as waking Since my legs failed me, yet, I could not sleep. I can but sit and think about the lambs That in the fold are opening wondering eyes. Poor new-born things ! Rachel. This one lies very still. I'll get more peats to heap upon the fire. It's cold, maybe. (Goes through the inner door.) [891 STONEFOLDS Nicholas. It's weak, and like to die. {TJie outer door slowly opens, and Ruth enters, wearily, with hesitating steps. She is dressed in a cloak, and is covered with snow. She pauses un- certainly in the middle of the room, and looks at her father, who, unaware of her presence, still sits gazing at the lamb, which opens its mouth as if to bleat, but makes no sound.) Nicholas. Poor, bleating beast ! We two are much alike, At either end of life, though scarce an hour You've been in this rough world, and I so long That death already has me by the heels ; For neither of us can stir to help himself. But both must bleat for others' aid. This world Is rough and bitter to the newly born. But far more bitter to the nearly dead. [901 STONEFOLDS Ruth, softly. Father! Nicholas, not hearing her, and still mumbling to himself. I've seen so many young things born. So many perish ! {Rachel eiders , and, seeing Ruth, drops the peats which she is carrying and folds Iter to her breast.) Rachel. Ruth! My child, my child! Nicholas, still gazing into the fire. Why harp on Ruth? The lass has made her bed. . . . Ruth, tottering towards him and kneeling on the rug by his side. Father! [911 STONEFOLDS Nicholas. What, is it Ruth? (Fondling her.) My child, my child! Why, you are cold; and you are white with snow! You shiver, lass, like any new-born lamb. (Rachel meanwhile strips off Ruth's cloak, and fills a cup with milk from the pan on the hob.) Ruth. I thought I never should win home. The snow Was all about me. Even now my eyes Are blinded by the whirling white that stung My face like knotted cords, and in my ears Rustled of death — of cold, white, swirling death. I thought I never should win home again With that wild night against me. How I fought! I was so weary, I was fain at whiles [921 STONEFOLDS To strive no more against the cruel night, And could have lain down gladly in a drift, As in my bed, to die . . . had I not known. . . Yet, knowing, I dared not. But I am dazed. Rachel, holding the cup to Ruth's lips. Come, drink this milk. 'Twas heated for the lambs. I little knew that for my own poor lamb I set it on the hob an hour ago! Ruth, seeing for the first time the lamb on the hearth. The lambs .-^ I had forgotten — I am dazed. This is the lambing-time; and Ralph . . . and Ralph . . . Nicholas. Is in the fold, where I should be if I . . . [931 STONEFOLDS Ruth, bending over the lamb. Ah, what a night to come into the world ! Poor, motherless thing ! and those poor, patient mothers ! I might have known it was the lambing-storm. {She moans and almost falls, but Rachel stays her in her arms.) Rachel. Child, you are ill! Ruth. Yes, I am near my time. Rachel, raising her from the ground and sup- porting her. Come, daughter, your own bed awaits you now, And has awaited you these many nights. Come, Ruth. {Tiiey move slowly across the room.) [941 STONEFOLDS Ruth. I thought I never should win home. Nicholas, as they pass into the inner room. Yes, I have seen so many young things born, So many perish! Rachel! They are gone; And we're alone again, the lamb and I. Poor beast, poor beast, has she forgotten you Now that her own stray lamb is home again? You lie so still and bleat no longer now. It's only I bleat now. Maybe, you're dead. And will not bleat again, or need to bleat, Because you're spared by death from growing old; And it can scarce be long till death's cold clutch Shall stop my bleating too. {He sits gazing into the fire, and dozes. Time passes. The cry of a new-born babe is heard from the next room.) [95] STONEFOLDS Nicholas, mumbling, half asleep. Yes, I have seen So many young things born, so many perish ! {He dozes again. After a while Rachel enters, carrying a baby wrapped in a blanket, which sJie lays on the rug before the fire.) Rachel. See, Nicholas ! Wake up ! It is Ruth's child. Nicholas, waking. Ruth's child ! Why, Ruth is but a child herself ! Rachel. Don't sleep again, for you must watch the babe While I go back to Ruth again. She lies So still and cold; and knows naught of the child. Unless she rouse, she cannot last till day. (Goes into the other room.) [961 STONEFOLDS Nicholas. So many young things perish; and I, so old. Am left to sit all day with idle hands. And can do naught to save them. {Tlw knocking of snovyy hoots against the threshold is heard again. The door opens, and Ralph enters with his lanthorn.) Is that Ralph? {Ralph goes towards the lamb, but, seeing the child, stands gazing in amazement.) Ralph. Uncle, what babe is this? Nicholas. Lad, Ruth is home. Ralph. Ruth has come home! I knew that she would come. [971 STONEFOLDS She could not stay, though held so long from me. For I have ever called her in my heart, By day and night, through all the weary year. I knew — I knew that she would come to-night Through storm and peril, and within the fold My heart has gone out to the labouring ewes. And new-born lambs, and all weak, helpless things. And yet I might have killed her! — though I sought Only to draw her to my shielding breast. She might have fallen by the way, and died, On such a night! She shall not stray again. The love that drew her from the perilous night May never let her go. {Rachel, entering, is about to speak, but seeing Ralph, pauses.) [98] STONEFOLDS Ralph, to Rachel. Ruth has come home! And we shall never let her go again. Rachel, speaking slowly. Ay, Ruth is home. (Going to tfie hearth and taking the child in her arms.) You poor, poor, motherless babe! {Ralph gazes at lier as tJwugh stunned, then bends over the lamb.) Ralph. It's dead. I must go back now to the fold. I shall be there till morning. {He crosses to the door and goes out.) Rachel, calling after him. Ralph ! your plaid ! {She follows to the door and opens it. The snow drifts into the room.) [991 STONEFOLDS Rachel. He's gone without his lanthorn and his plaid. God keep him safe on such a night! Poor Ralph! Ruth's babe no longer breathes. {Laying the child by tlie dead lamb.) To-night has death Shown pity to the motherless and weak. And folded them in peace. How sweet they sleep ! Nicholas. We two have seen so many young things born, So many perish; yet death takes us not. Wife, bar the door; that wind blows through my bones. It's a long night. (Clock strikes.) What hour is that.'* [1001 STONEFOLDS Rachel. It's one; The night is over. Nicholas. Yet another day! [101] STONEFOLDS THE BRIDAL Persons: Hugh Shield, a young shepherd. Esther Shield, his bride. Ann Shield, his mother. Scene: The living-room of Bleakridge, a lonely shepherd'' s cottage on the fells. In one corner is a four-post bed on which Ann Shield, an old, bed- ridden woman, lies sleeping, unseen behind the closed curtains. On the table in the middle of the room a meal is spread. The latch clicks, the door opens, and Hugh Shield enters, glancing towards the bed, then turns to hold open tlie door for EstJier Shield, who follows him into tlie room. [102] THE BRIDAL Hugh. Wife, welcome home! (Embracing her, and leading her to a chair.) Come, rest, for you are tired. Esther. No, I'm not weary. (Looking towards bed.) Does your mother sleep? Hugh, crossing to bed and peering betwixt the curtains. Ay, she sleeps sound, and we'll not waken her, For she is ever fretful when she wakes. It would not do to break the news . . . Esther. The news ! Did she not know we were to wed to-day .^^ Hugh. She did not know I was to wed at all. [103] STONEFOLDS Esther. Hugh! Why did you not tell her? Hugh. I don't know. I would have told her when I spoke to you — Just seven nights since — it seems so long ago ! — But when I breathed your name she put me off Ere I had told my will. She's sorely failed, And wanders in her speech. A chance word serves To scare her like a shadow-startled ewe, And send her old mind rambling through the past Till I can scarce keep pace with her. Next morn I spoke, and still she would not hear me out. And yet she ever liked you, lass, and naught She spoke against you; only her poor wits [ 104 1 THE BRIDAL Are like a flock of sheep without a herd; And so she mumbled idle, driftless things; Unless it were a mother's jealous fear That made her cunning, and she sought to turn My thoughts from you. Old people aye dread change. Esther. You should have told her ere we wedded, Hugh. Hugh. When I arose this morn, I went to her To tell her, but she slept; and when I set Her breakfast on the table by her bed, I would have waked her, and stretched out my hand To rouse her, and the words were on my lips; And yet, I didn't touch her, spoke no word. [105 1 STONEFOLDS I was afraid to speak, I don't know why. 'Twas folly, lass, and yet I could not speak. Esther. You should have told her. Hugh. Well, it doesn't matter; For we are wedded, Esther. I'm no boy. That I must ever ask my mother's leave Ere I do aught. I left her sleeping still; And when she waked, she'd think me with the sheep ; And sup her meal in peace; and little know Into what fold I wandered, and with whom! Esther. You should have told her, Hugh. She will be wroth [106] THE BRIDAL To wake and find you wed. If you were fright- ened To tell her then, how will you tell her now? Hugh. 'Twas not her wrath I feared. I scarce know why I did not tell her; for I would have wed Though she had bidden me "Nay" a thousand times. Lass, do you think a word would hold me back, Like a cowed collie, when I would be forth .^^ Not all the world could keep me from you, lass. Once I had set my heart on you. D'you think I should have taken "Nay," lass, even from you! Esther. Ay, you are masterful; and had your way To church ere scarce I knew it ; and, yet, Hugh, [1071 STONEFOLDS You had not had your way so easily Had it not been my way as well! Hugh. Ay, lass. Naught could have held us from each other — naught; And naught shall ever part us. Esther, glancing towards the bed. Hugh, she stirs. Your voice has wakened her. Ann, from the bed. Hugh, are you there? Hugh, going towards the bed. Ay, mother. Ann. Lad, what hour is it? [1081 THE BRIDAL Hugh. Nigh noon. Ann. I did not wake till you had gone this morn. I must have slumbered soundly, though I slept But little in the night. I could not sleep. I lay awake, and watched the dark hours pass ; They seemed to trail as slowly as the years On which I brooded, and did naught but brood, Though my eyes burned for slumber — those dark years So long since passed ! I did not sleep till dawn ; And then I dreamt again of those dark years ; And in my dream they seemed to threaten you. And when I waked the clock was striking nine. And you were gone. I must have slept again, For you are here. I did not hear the latch. [109 1 STONEFOLDS Hugh. Mother, I spoke to you the other eve Of Esther — but you did not heed . . . Ann. My dream! Hugh, lad, I heard your words with fearful heart, Yet, could not speak. Son, you must never wed. Hugh. What say you, mother! Am I yet a boy — A pup to bring to heel with "must" and "shall".? Mother, this cur's beyond your call! Ann. Nay, lad, I don't bid you for bidding's sake; nor yet [110] THE BRIDAL Because I dread another mistress here. Hugh, son, my mother's heart would have you wed; Yet this same heart cries out to hinder you. Beheve me, for your happiness I speak. You must not wed. Hugh. Hush, mother! Don't speak now. {He motions to Esther, who comes forward to the bed.) Ann, turning towards Esther. Is someone there? You should have told me, Hugh. Who is it, lad; for my old eyes are weak, And the light dazzles them.'* I know the face. Is't Esther Ord? [Ill] SrONKFOl.DS Hue 11. No, l^lsllicM- Slii(>l(l, my ln'ule. Ann, (tftrr a pause. TluMi il\s Loo laU'! I Lid 1 l)uL spoken lllCMl, Or held my lonj^iie for vvvrl Hugh. Thai wcro best. Don' I hvcd \wv, hiss. She doesn't know wliiit slie says. Ann. Wonkl Ihat I dichi'l know, had never known! O son, it's you who (h> nol know. t>uL now, Tl is loo hile, loo hiio. TTow could I Ihink That you would wed, and iie\'cr breathe a word ! niK UIMDAL And yd, I might have known, 1 niiglil liavc known! You hjivc your father's will. Ihu;!!. Ay, molli