Class _l Book GopyrightN . COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE HILL OF VISION THE MACMILLAN COMPANY NEW YORK • BOSTON • CHICAGO DALLAS • SAN FRANCISCO MACMILLAN & CO., Limited LONDON • BOMBAY • CALCUTTA MELBOURNE THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD. TORONTO THE HILL OF VISION BY JAMES STEPHENS AUTHOR OF ''INSURRECTIONS" j|2eto gotfe THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 1912 All rightt rtstrvei a- Copyright. igia By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY Set up and electrotyped. Published February. 1912 / £CI.A309332 © i CONTENTS FAGE Everything that I Can Spy . . I A Prelude and a Song . . . 3 In the Poppy Field 9 • * 28 The Fulness of Time . • • 30 Light-o'-Love . . 31 Nucleolus . . 32 The Brute . 34 Mount Derision • • 36 The Sootherer . . 37 The Spalpeen . ■ 44 Danny Murphy . . . 46 The Tree of the Bird . • ♦ 1 47 Peadar Og Goes Courting . 49 Nora Criona . . . 54 The Rune . . 55 Bessie Bobtail • . < 56 The Tinker's Brat . . 57 Nothing at All . . . 58 Why Tomas Cam Was Grumpy . . 60 Under the Bracken . 62 The Girl I Left Behind M< 64 Shame . 65 CONTENTS Said the Young-Young Man 1 :o the Old Old Man 67 Said the Old-Old Man to the Young Young Man .... 73 Secrets .... 75 Crooked-Heart 76 Mac Dhoul .... 77 The Merry Policeman . 80 Treason 81 The Fairy Boy 85 What the Devil Said 87 The Tree of Life . 89 Ora Pro Nobis 94 Afterwards 95 The End of the Road . 97 Wind and Tree 99 Eve .... 100 The Breath of Life 104 In the Cool of the Evening 108 New Pinions . 109 Psychometrist III The Winged Tramp . 112 Poles .... 113 Chopin's Funeral March 114 The Monkey's Cousin . . 116 The Lonely God . • 117 Hail and Farewell . 130 Everything that I can spy Through the circle of my eye, Everything that I can see Has been woven out of me; I have sown the stars, and threw Clouds of morning and of eve Up into the vacant blue; Everything that I perceive, Sun and sea and mountain high, All are moulded by my eye: Closing it, what shall I find? — Darkness, and a little wind. A PRELUDE AND A SONG THE PRELUDE Song! glad indeed I am that we have met, Too long, my sister, you have stayed from me; Almost I fancied that you could forget Those binding promises, that you would be Under the slender interlacing boughs Waiting for me. I came and looked about on every side But where you hid away I could not see; And first I searched among the meadows wide, And up the hill, and under every tree, And down the stream to see if you were there Waiting for me. 3 4 THE HILL OF VISION But when I did not find you in the mead, Or by the stream, or under any tree, I thought you had forgotten we agreed, Not long ago, that you would surely be Under the slender interlacing boughs Waiting for me. You came to me I do not know from where: I stood and saw you not, I turn and see: Have you sprung to me from the sunny air? Or in the long grass did you curiously Watch while I wandered, laughing as you lay Waiting for me. And you have brought your pipe! let us be- gin. Against your skill I match my poetry: A kiss if I should fail, and if I win A kiss the same — tune not your melody Too high at first, I shall not keep you long Waiting for me. O little wind that through the forest ways A PRELUDE AND A SONG 5 At evening and at morning still does go, Or from the hilltop with a lordlier praise Shouts without ceasing to the meads below! From cave or lake or wood Come, little wind and share our solitude; Leave those sad vagaries that make us weep, Your long-blown pealing trumpet put away, And where a merry holiday we keep Here in the sunny fields come dance and leap And sing aloud with us the live-long day. For we have often seen you in the corn Nodding the poppy heads in dainty play, Or through the meadows on a summer morn Blowing the little thistle balls away : And one day, unobserved, we watched you where You stole a ribbon from a maiden slim And threw it to a boy who stood and prayed, Which, e'er he kissed, you snatched away from him 6 THE HILL OF VISION And blew it back again unto the maid Who was his only hope and thought and care; And while he sighed and while she laughed you took The ribbon up and soused it in a brook, Beyond the reach of lover anywhere. And yet again we saw You playing with the milkmaids in the shaw, Where standing near a satyr trained his eye If haply there was anything to see And crept up to you with a mind to spy The cause of such exceeding jollity: Then, when the satyr looked too curiously You blew his own rough beard and shaggy hair, And blinded him who stared so greedily, Because it was not right that he should see The milkmaid's kirtle that you meddled there. So you can laugh and play; Come then and join our merry holiday: A PRELUDE AND A SONG 7 Join in our song and maybe you will win Because you are so free from thought or care, Nor ever question, does the sinner sin? Or, who has seen? or, why or when or where? No longer bide By wood or hill or green or river's side, But your quaint careless lute bring with you here And sing to us and we will sing to you, Until we find who has the finest ear, And who the sweetest voice and gayest cheer, And to him give the praise that is his due. O nymphs ! if ye will come from spring or lake, Or where the sedge is wavering in the stream, To dance with us and with us to partake A careless fellowship, or with us dream Stretched idly on the grass to watch the gleam 8 THE HILL OF VISION Of sunlight through the leaves — we wel- come true And will applaud your shy romantic theme, Your delicate wild tales and music new; And fair respectful courtesy extend to you. Round the trees ye danced and flew While the boughs danced down to see, And the sun was dancing through Leafy spaces on the tree: The daisies danced, the meadow-sweet, All the swaying grassy blades Danced behind the dancing feet Of the merry dancing maids. But ye goat-footed fellows keep away, Nor through the bushes strain your wily eyes, For ye would love to spoil our holiday, And fright the nymphs away with sudden cries, And whispers lewd and vicious enterprise: But if ye promise truly to be good, Then come with your thin reeds and im- provise A PRELUDE AND A SONG 9 Your antic dances practiced in the wood, And all the games you play in sunlit soli- tude. Left and right and swing around, Soar and dip and fall for glee, Happy sky and bird and ground, Happy wind and happy tree: Happy minions, dancing mad, Joy is guide enough for you, Cure the world of good and bad, And teach us innocence anew. In sunlit solitude wherein ye keep A merriment we never understood, Whose only privilege is when we weep — Away the word ! but come ye happy brood Of nymphs and dancing satyrs who have wooed So often and so often, come and lie Beside us on the grass, and be as good As your wild natures let, while singing high We send our joyful choruses up to the sky. Good and bad and right and wrong, Wave the silly words away: io THE HILL OF VISION This is wisdom to be strong, This is virtue to be gay: Let us sing and dance until We shall know the final art, How to banish good and ill With the laughter of the heart. Now sister, blow your pipe with curved lips, And all ye others come and sit around And hearken to my measure as it trips Now high, now low, with a melodious sound : My best I sing, and if it seem to you That ye have heard my measures sung before In old poetic days, give me my due, For those who sang so well were very few Tho' dead, and none alive can soar Up to the simple rapture of my lays : But be ye silent till my time is o'er, Then if ye like my songs give me my praise. THE SONG I have a black, black mind I What shall I do? If I could fly and leave it all behind, Scaling the blue, Over the trees and up and out of sight, And wrong and right Naming them both the nonsense that they are! I'd leave them far, Drop them behind with these and these and these, The tyrannies That promised to be blessings and are woes, The chattering crows • That I had fancied to be singing birds, The angry words That drowse and buzz and drone and never stay. Oh ! far away ! ii 12 THE HILL OF VISION Over the pine trees and the mountain top, Never to stop; Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly Into the sky. If I had wings just like a bird I would not say a single word, I'd spread my wings and fly away Beyond the reach of yesterday. If I could swim just like a fish I'd give my little tail a swish, I'd swim ten days and nights and then I never would be found again. Or if I were a comet bright I'd drop in secret every night Ten million miles, and no one would Know where I kept my solitude. But I am not a bird or fish Or comet, so I need not wish, And need not try to get away Beyond the reach of yesterday. A PRELUDE AND A SONG 13 Damn Yesterday! and this and that, And these and those, and all the flat Dull catalogue of weighty things That somehow fastened to my wings. Over the pine trees and the mountain top 1 I will not stop, I lift my wings and fly and fly and fly Into the sky. No more of woeful Misery I sing! Let her go moping down the paved way; While to the sunny fields, and everything That laughs, and to the little birds that sing, I pass along and tune my happy lay : O sunny sky ! meadows that the happy clouds are drift- ing by 1 1 walk and play beside the little stream As by a friend: I dance in solitude Among the trees, or lie and gaze and dream H THE HILL OF VISION Along the grass, or hearken to the theme A lark discourses to her tender brood: O sunny sky! O meadows that the happy clouds are drifting by! There is a thrush lives snugly in a wall, She lets me come and peep into her nest, She lets me see and touch the speckled ball Under her wing, and does not fear at all, Although her shy companion is distressed: O sunny sky ! O meadows that the happy clouds are drift- ing by! Sing, sing again ye little birds of joy! Call out from tree to tree and tell your tale Of happiness that knoweth no alloy; Altho' your mates seem timorous and coy If ye sing high enough how can ye fail? O sunny sky! O meadows that the happy clouds are drift- ing by ! On every side, as far as I can see, A PRELUDE AND A SONG 15 The round horizon — like a bosom's swell, Seems brooding in a sweet maternity Where no thing may be hurt, not even me, But she will stoop and kiss and make us well: O sunny sky! meadows that the happy clouds are drift- ing by ! 1 am the brother of each bird and tree And everything that grows — your children glad; Their hearts are in my heart, their ecstasy! O Mother of all mothers, comfort me, Give me your breast for I am very sad : O sunny sky! meadows that the happy clouds are drift- ing by! 1 wandered far away in early morn, When summer did the happy trees adorn; Leaving behind all woe and discontent, All sorrow and distress and angry pain, And did not say to any where I went, Or when, or if I would return again From leafy solitude. 16 THE HILL OF VISION I wandered far away and far away, And was as happy as a person may, Until I heard the birds all singing plain Upon their several trees, a joyous band, Who had no care save only to attain The food and shelter that lay every hand In leafy solitude. I wandered far away and did not turn: At their glad songs my heart began to burn, And joy that I had never known before, And tears that had no meaning I could say, Came from the hymns the little birds did pour To me as I went softly on my way In leafy solitude. I wandered far away and I was glad: I knew the rapture that the forest had : And every bird was good to me and said A kindly word before I passed him by, The cheery squirrel sat and ate his bread And did not fear me when I ventured nigh His leafy solitude. A PRELUDE AND A SONG 17 I wandered far away — O, all alas! How quickly does the little freedom pass! Can I return again to domicile? Or leave the birds each on his several tree? Or wonder did I weep and did I smile? Or recollect the songs they sang to me In leafy solitude ? O birds, my brothers, sing to me once more! E'er I return again to whence I came, Give me your happiness, your joy, your lore, Your woodland innocence I claim Because ye truly are my brothers dear: Sing to me once again before I go from here. In woodland paths again we may not meet; Under the slender interlacing boughs, Where all day long the sunbeams flash and fleet On leaf and grass and wing, And all day long ye sing And hold carouse : 18 THE HILL OF VISION Because ye truly are my brothers dear Sing to me once again before I go from here. I from your happy company must go away To whence I came; But ye through all the quiet summer day Will sing the same, And fly and hold carouse Under the slender interlacing boughs When I am gone, who am your brother dear: Sing to me once again before I go from here. All things must cease at last; Night cometh after day And day is past: All things must end And friend from loving friend At the long last must rise and go away; And from the slender interlacing boughs The leaves that flutter now will fail and fall; A PRELUDE AND A SONG 19 The time is come I may no more carouse, Farewell to ye, farewell unto ye all Ye birds who truly are my brothers dear: Sing to me once again before I go from here. O clouds that sail afar, almost unseen! unattainable ! to you alone 1 lift my wings, To you I lean, I yearn to you beyond all other things; Desperate I am for you, for you I moan; I struggle up to you and always fail, I sink and fall, I fall for ever down, Deep down where you are not, without avail Or help or hope : a clod, a grinning clown Whose wry mouth laughs in fury at his thought ; A discontent without a word to say; A hope that cannot fasten upon aught; A nothing that is anything it may; A moodiness, a hatred and a love ao THE HILL OF VISION Mixed, mixed of good and bad that can not show; But you are calm at morning as a dove Is calm upon her nest, and in the glow Of midday you are bathed round with joy, And as a woman looking on the child Within her arms asleep has no annoy So, with contented brows and bosom mild, You rest upon the evening and its gold, Its tender rose and pearl and green and gray: O peacefulness that never has been told ! O far away ! Over the pine trees and the mountain top, Never to stop Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly Into the sky. Weary indeed I know the whole world is; Then do not sing to me a song of woe, But tune your pipe to every merry bliss Ye can remember, and I will not miss To join in every chorus that I know: Give me the very rapture of your song A PRELUDE AND A SONG 21 Else I may go away with thoughts that do ye wrong The joyful song that welcomes in the spring, The tender mating song so bravely shy, The song that builds the nest, the merry ring When the long wait is ended and ye bring The young birds out and teach them how to fly: Sing to me of the beechnuts on the ground, And of the first wild flight at early dawn, And of the store of berries some one found And hid away until ye gathered round And ate them while he shrieked upon the lawn: Sing of the swinging nest upon the tree, And of your mates who call and hide away, And of the sun that shines exceedingly, And of the leaves that dance, and all the glee And rapture that begins at break of day. O birds, O birds, sing once again to me ! 22 THE HILL OF VISION Sing me the joy ye have not reached to yet; E'er I go hence give me your ecstasy, E'er I go hence, e'er far away I flee Give me the joy which I may not forget: The very inner rapture of your song: Else I may go away with thoughts that do ye wrong. O follow, follow, follow! Blackbird, thrush and swallow; The air is soft, the sun is shining through The dancing boughs; A little while me company along And I will go with you: Arouse, arouse! Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song. Blackbird, thrush and swallow! Indeed the visits that I pay are very few, Then come to me as I have come to you : O follow, follow, follow! Leave for a little time your nested boughs And me accompany along, Join me while I am happy; rouse, O rouse! Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song. A PRELUDE AND A SONG 23 Sky, sky, On high, O gentle majesty! Come all ye happy birds and follow, follow Under the slender interlacing boughs Blackbird, thrush and swallow! No longer in the sunlight sit and drowse But me accompany along; No longer be ye mute; arouse, arouse! Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song. Lift, lift, ye happy birds, Lift song and wing, And sing and fly, And fly again and sing Up to the very blueness of the sky Your happy words. O follow, follow, follow, Where I go racing through the shady ways, Blackbird, thrush and swallow, Shouting aloud our ecstasy of praise: Under the slender interlacing boughs Me company along, The sun is coming with us : rouse, O rouse ! Among the leaves I sing my pleasant song, 24 THE HILL OF VISION Reach up my wings ! Now broaden into space and carry me Beyond where any lark that sings Can get: Into the utmost sharp tenuity, The breathing-point, the start, the scarcely- stirred High slenderness where never any bird Has winged to yet ! The moon peace and the star peace and the peace Of chilly sunlight: to the void of space, The emptiness, the giant curve, the great Wide-stretching arms wherein the gods em- brace And stars are born and suns: where ger- minate All fruitful seed, where life and death are one, Where all things that are not their times await; Where all things that have been again are gone: Deep Womb of Promise! back to thee again A PRELUDE AND A SONG 25 And forth, revivified, all living things Do come and go, Forever wax and wane into and from thy garden; There the flower springs, Therein does grow The bud of hope, the miracle to come For whose dear advent we are striving dumb And joyless: Garden of Delight That God has sowed! In thee the flower of flowers, The apple of our tree, The banner of our towers, The recompense for every misery, The angel-man, the purity, the light Whom we are working to has his abode : Until out back and forth, our life and death And life again, our going and return Prepare the way: until our latest breath, Deep-drawn and agonized, for him shall burn A path: for him prepare 26 THE HILL OF VISION Laughter and love and singing everywhere ; A morning and a sunrise and a day ! O, far away ! Over the pine trees and the mountain top Never to stop Lifting wide wings, to fly and fly and fly Into the sky. Song! I am tired to death! here let me lie Where we have paced the moving trees along, Till I recover from my ecstasy: Farewell my Song. Once more unto your pipe I lend my rhyme Who in the woods did pace with you along; We have been happy for a little time: Farewell my Song. Soon, soon return or else my world is naught; Come back and we will pace the woods along, A PRELUDE AND A SONG 27 And tell unto each other all our thought: Farewell my Song. And when again you do come back to me Under the sounding trees we'll pace along, While to your pipe I raise my poetry: Farewell my Song. IN THE POPPY FIELD Mad Patsy said, he said to me, That every morning he could see An angel walking on the sky ; Across the sunny skies of morn He threw great handfuls far and nigh Of poppy seed among the corn; And then, he said, the angels run To see the poppies in the sun. A poppy is a devil weed, I said to him — he disagreed: He said the devil had no hand In spreading flowers tall and fair Through corn and rye and meadow land, By gurth and barrow everywhere: The devil has not any flower, But only money in his power. And then he stretched out in the sun And rolled upon his back for fun: IN THE POPPY FIELD 29 He kicked his legs and roared for joy Because the sun was shining down, He said he was a little boy And would not work for any clown : He ran and laughed behind a bee, And danced for very ecstasy. THE FULNESS OF TIME On a rusty iron throne Past the furthest star of space I saw Satan sit alone, Old and haggard was his face; For his work was done and he Rested in eternity. And to him from out the sun Came his father and his friend Saying, now the work is done Enmity is at an end: And he guided Satan to Paradises that he knew. Gabriel without a frown, Uriel without a spear, Raphael came singing down Welcoming their ancient peer, And they seated him beside One who had been crucified. 30 LIGHT-O'-LOVE But now, said she, I must away, And if I tend another fire In some man's house this you will say- It is not that her love doth tire : This is the price she has to pay, For bread she gets no other way, Still fainting for her heart's desire. And so she went out from the door While I sat quiet in my chair: She ran back once, again — no more; I heard a footstep on the stair, A lifted latch; one moment fleet I heard the noises of the street, Then silence booming everywhere. 31 NUCLEOLUS I looked from Mount Derision at Two ivory thrones that were in space, Whereon a man and woman sat, The very parallels of grace, Not lovelier had ever been By mortal seen. Then one unto the other said, Tell me the secret hidden well Which you have never uttered, And I to you again will tell My guarded thought, and we will know Each other so. Then he — When those who pray beside My holy altars do not bear A gift to me I turn aside And do not listen to the prayer, But whoso brings a gift will see The proof of me. 32 NUCLEOLUS 33 And she — When on a festal day The youths kneel down before my shrine I think, if he or he might lay His ruddy cheek to mine And comfort my sick soul I'd lay My crown away. THE BRUTE Still she said No and No, And begged me loose her hand : I let it go, But gripped her dress instead: I could not stand For swimming of my head. And then a sudden weakness came upon me And my trembling knees Went shaking to the ground. Ah misery ! She would not listen, Stared at me and frowned. I begged, implored . . . All the love I'd stored Came gasping in a net Of tangled pleading, Sigh and pant and fret, And words disjointed, Bitten through and bleeding. 34 THE BRUTE 35 But she went No and No and No again, And No for ever, Spite of all endeavour; Until like wintry rain That pattering word whirled on my mad- dened head And froze me furious while she thought me dead. But then with icy lips I cursed her there, Eyes, nose and teeth and hair; I damned her body, bones and blood — and then She scuttled homewards like a frightened hen. MOUNT DERISION Deep within the spacious round I saw a man and woman bound, Middle to middle and knee to knee, With a rusty iron chain, Which when one or the other would flee Drew them close together again: This was on the Hill of Vision Which the gods call Mount Derision. There lay upon the ground a key Which the couple did not see Tho' with fury they were bowed; And they struggled in the sun, And each to the other shouted loud An urgent business to be done If the fruitful strife might cease And they work together in peace. Thought and Feeling, Brain and Heart, These, which cannot work apart, 36 MOUNT DERISION 37 Were loving sister and kindly brother Long ago till desire and strife Chained the twain unto each other As hated husband and hateful wife, Who must suffer till they see Love is crowned by liberty. THE SOOTHERER Little Joy, why do you run so fast ? Waving behind you as you go away Your tiny hand. You smiled at me and cast A silver apple, asking me to play: But when I ran to pick the apple up You ran the other way. Bad one ! I will refuse to eat my food, 1 will not talk or laugh or say a prayer Unless you cease from running; I will brood In secret if you leave me: I declare I'll drink and fight and go to the bad And curse and swear! Little One ! White One ! Shy Little Gay Sprite! Do not turn your head across you shoulder To laugh and mock at me; it is not right To laugh at me for I am older: 38 THE SOOTHERER 39 Throw me the silver apple once again You little scolder. I love you very dear, indeed I do; I never saw a girl like you before In any place. You are more sweetly new Than a May moon : you are my store, My secret and my treasure and the pulse Of my heart's core. Throw me the silver apple — I will run And pick it up and give it you again : Dear Heart ! Sweet Laughter ! — throw it then for fun And not for me — if you will but remain, . . . Nay do not run; I'll stand thus far away And not complain. Come just a little nearer, half a pace, One little, little step: my eyes are bad, They cannot altogether see your face At this great distance — if I had Good sight I would not mind how far I stood, I would be glad. 40 THE HILL OF VISION Never before — or only one or two : I did not really like them half so well, Not really half so well as I like you, Throw me the silver apple and I'll tell Their names, and what I used to say to them, — The first was Nell. Throw me the apple and I'll tell you more; — She had a pretty face, but she was fat: We clung together when the rain would pour Under a tree or hedge, and often sat Through long, still, sunny hours — Tell what she said? I'll not do that. I really couldn't, no, it would be wrong And most unfair, I will not say a word About the girl — (your voice is like the song I heard this morning from a little bird) . . . I'll whisper then if you come close to me, — You've hardly stirred. THE SOOTHERER 41 She said she loved me better than her life. — You need not laugh, she said so anyway, And meant it too, and longed to be my wife: She kissed me many times and wept to stay Within my arms and did not ever want To go away. But she was fat, I will admit that's true: And so I hid when she came seeking me. If she had been as beautiful as you . . . (You are as slender as a growing tree, And when you move the blood goes leaping through The heart of me). The other girl? Yes, she is very fair: Her feet are lighter than the clouds on high, And there is morn and noonday in her hair, And mellow, sunny evenings in her eye, And all day long she sings just like a lark Up in the sky. 42 THE HILL OF VISION I say she did — she loved me very well, And I loved her until, Ah, woe is me ! Until today, when passing through the dell I met yourself, and now I cannot see Her face at all, or any face but yours In memory. I ought to be ashamed? well ament I? But that's no comfort when I'm in a trap: I tell you I shall sit down here and die Unless you stay — you do not care a rap — Ah, Little Sweetheart, do not run away, . . . Have pity on a chap. You'll go — then listen, you are just a pig, A little wrinkled pig out of a sty; Your legs are crooked and your nose is big, You've got no calves, you have a silly eye, I don't know why I stopped to talk to you, I hope you'll die. Now cry, go on, mew like a little cat, And rub your eyes and stamp and tear your wig; I see your ankles ! listen, they are fat THE SOOTHERER 43 And so's your head, you're angled like a twig, Your back's all baggy and your clothes don't fit And your feet are big! She's gone, begor, she legged it like a hare ! You'd think I had the itch, or else a face Like a blue monkey — keeps me standing there, Not good enough to touch her . . ! Back I'll race And make it up with Breed, that's what I'll do, There is a flower that bloometh, Tra la la la laddy la . THE SPALPEEN Looking on the rounded sky From the Hill of Vision, I Saw him striding here and there Sowing seeds upon the air, And he told the name of these, Days and Years and Centuries. Then a seed to me he threw Saying, 'tis a gift for you, The best of all the seeds that be This is the seed of mystery, And its name is Death but no Other tree can blossom so. It will top the clouds and run Branches up into the sun: Fruit and leaf and branch and stem Will grow far too high for them, The Immortals, who will cry We are tired and cannot die. 44 THE SPALPEEN 45 "Fear of the Gods" will be its name, It will cover up their fame ; And beneath its shade will go Mighty mortals to and fro Who will die and live and be Eager through eternity. DANNY MURPHY He was as old as old could be, His little eye could scarcely see His mouth was sunken in between, His nose and chin, and he was lean And twisted up and withered quite, So that he could not walk aright. His pipe was always going out, And then he'd have to search about In all his pockets, and he'd mow — O, deary me ! and, musha now ! And then he'd light his pipe, and then He'd let it go clean out again. He could not dance or jump or run, Or ever have a bit of fun Like me and Susan, when we shout And jump and throw ourselves about: But when he laughed then you could see He was as young as young could be. 46 THE TREE OF THE BIRD I sat beneath a tree in a wide park, There was a lark, a bard of ecstasy, Who sang among the leaves of his beWed: — "Thou art most fair, O, my beloved,"' said he, "None can with thee compare, Thy flight is with the stars and with tfce wind, And thou art kind, O, my most well-beloved" — Such was his minstrelsy. The mellow evening sun trod to a hill Far off and blue, But I was too enraptured with the skill Of that young songster, and the still Slow rustling of the boughs To heed how far the sun had stepped Unto his western house, Whereto 47 48 THE HILL OF VISION At evening he must turn again his bright- ness to renew. There came to me a languor sad, The sacred peace which Adam had When in the morning after he Had been expelled to misery He wakened with his bride, And cried his thanks and praise to God For trees and dew and birds that flew, For sun and breeze and cloudy sails Which he aforetime knew and loved in Eden's vales. He did a moment furthermore Outpour his many patterned song, Down to the ground and up to the sky, About, around, an ecstasy, A sheer and sweet swift rush along; It failed and ceased, and then he threw His pinions wide, Away he flew, Because he could no longer bide Away from her he glorified. THE TREE OF THE BIRD 49 A little wind from out of space Breathed softly on my face, The gray and peaceful evening stole Around the tree, till branch and bole Were lost, and there remained to me Nothing at all to hear or see But this — A bliss, a happiness, A song that came like a caress, A memory, no more — which you, My friend, are very welcome to. PEADAR OG GOES COURTING Now I am nicely dressed I'll go Down to where the roses blow, I'll pluck a fair and fragrant one And make my mother pin it on: Now she's laughing, so am I — O, the blueness of the sky ! Down the street, turn to the right, Round the corner out of sight, Pass the church and out of town- Dust does show on boots of brown, I'd better brush them while I can; Step out, Peadar, be a man! Here's a field and there's a stile, Shall I jump it? wait a while, Scale it gently, stretch my foot Across the mud in that big rut so PEADAR OG GOES COURTING 51 And I'm still clean — faith, I'm not! Get some grass and rub the spot. Dodge those nettles, here the stream Bubbles onward with a gleam Steely white, and black, and gray, Bending rushes on its way — What's that moving? It's a rat Washing his whiskers, isn't he fat? Here the cow with the crumpledy horn Whisks her tail and looks forlorn, She wants a milkmaid bad I guess How her udders swell and press Against her legs — and here's some sheep, And there's the shepherd fast asleep. This is a sad and lonely field, Thistles are all that it can yield, I'll cross it quick, nor look behind, There's nothing in it but the wind: And if those bandy-legged trees Could only talk they'd curse or sneeze. 52 THE HILL OF VISION A sour, unhappy, sloppy place — That boot's loose ! I'll tie the lace So, and jump this little ditch, . Her father's really very rich: He'll be angry — there's a crow, Solemn blackhead ! off you go. There a big gray, ancient ass Is snoozing quiet in the grass, He hears me coming, starts to rise, And wags his big ears at the flies. . . . JVhafll I say when — there's a frog, Go it, long-legs, jig, jig-jog. He'll be angry, say — "Pooh, pooh, Boy, you know not what you do." Shakespeare rot and good advice, Fat old duffer — those field mice Have a good time playing round Through the corn and underground. But her mother is friends with mine, She always asks us out to dine, PEADAR OG GOES COURTING 53 And dear Nora, curly head, Loves me; so at least she said. . . . Damn that ass's hee-hee-haw — Was that a rabbit's tail I saw? This is the house, Lord, I'm afraid! A man does suffer for a maid. . . . How will I start? — the graining's new On the door — O, pluck up, do. Don't stand shivering there like that . . . The knocker's funny — rat-tat-tat. NORA CRIONA I have looked him round and looked him through, Know everything that he will do In such a case, and such a case, And when a frown comes on his face I dream of it, and when a smile I trace its sources in a while. He cannot do a thing but I Peep and find the reason why, Because I love him, and I seek, Every evening in the week, To peep behind his frowning eye With little query, little pry, And make him if a woman can Happier than any man. Yesterday he gripped her tight And cut her throat — and serve her right I 54 THE RUNE The sun and the star, The moon and the sea, As they wandered afar Sent a message to me. For our friend, lovingly We have fashioned a moral, When there's room to agree There is no room to quarrel. And, therefore, we now Send this thought to the friend Whom we love, showing how Every quarrel will end. To be far brings you near, But too near is too far; Can you love without fear When the door's on the jar? 55 BESSIE BOBTAIL As down the street she wambled slow, She had not got a place to go: She had not got a place to fall And rest herself — no place at all. She stumped along and wagged her pate And said a thing was desperate. Her face was screwed and wrinkled tight Just like a nut — and, left and right, On either side she wagged her head And said a thing, and what she said Was desperate as any word That ever yet a person heard. I walked behind her for a while And watched the people nudge and smile: But ever as she went she said, As left and right she swung her head, — "O, God He knows," and "God He knows" And, surely God Almighty knows. 56 THE TINKER'S BRAT I saw a beggar woman bare Her bosom to the winter air; And into the tender nest Of her famished mother-breast She laid her child, And him beguiled, With crooning song into his rest. With crooning song and tender word, About a little singing bird, Who spread her wings about her brood, And tore her bosom up for food, And sang the while, Them to beguile, All in the forest's solitude. And hearing this I could not see That she was clad in misery; For in her heart there was a glow Warmed her bare feet in the snow: In her heart was hid a sun Would warm the world for every one. 57 NOTHING AT ALL There was a man was very old: He sat beside a little fire, And watched the flame begin to tire. He held his hands out to the heat, And in his voice was half a scold, Informed Creation he was cold. And very, very feeble, too: He could not lift up from his seat To reach the fuel at his feet. "Perhaps," said he, "God does not know That I am nearly frozen through; He might not like it if He knew. "For an old man cannot stretch, When his blood's too weak to flow, Frozen sitting in the snow." 58 NOTHING AT ALL 59 ******* Poor old chattering, grumbling wight ! God will hardly come to fetch Wood for such an ancient wretch. But He will send you rain more cold, To quench that little flickering light, Just like this, and freeze you quite : . . . Men must die when they are old. WHY TOMAS CAM WAS GRUMPY If I were rich what would I do? I'd leave the horse just ready to shoe, I'd leave the pail beside the cow, I'd leave the furrow beneath the plough, I'd leave the ducks tho' they should quack, "Our eggs will be stolen before you're back"; I'd buy a diamond brooch, a ring, A golden chain which I would fling Around her neck . . . Ah, what an itch, If I were rich! What would I do if I were wise? I would not debate about the skies, Nor would I try a book to write, Or find the wrong in the tangled right, I would not debate with learned men Of how, and what, and why, and when; 60 TOMAS CAM 61 I'd train my tongue to a linnet's song, I'd learn the words that couldn't go wrong — And then I'd say . . . And win the prize, If I were wise! But I'm not that nor t'other, I bow My back to the work that's waiting now. I'll shoe the horse that's standing ready, I'll milk the cow if she'll be steady, I'll follow the plough that turns the loam, I'll watch the ducks don't lay from home. — And I'll curse, and curse, and curse again Till the devil joins in with his big amen, And none but he and I will wot When the heart within me starts to rot, To fester and churn its ugly brew — . . . Where's my spade? I've work to do. UNDER THE BRACKEN A body lay upon the hill And over it the bracken swung; The which had housed many an ill Of hand and heart and tongue: It was so foul the angels who Fit the dead for living flew From where the corpse was flung. Then all the ills that had been sted In the heart and in the head, Every sin and shame he knew When he gloried in the sun Rose from hell again and flew, Filled with indignation, And did what the angel crew Could not bring themselves to do. They cleaned him more white than snow, They purged him of everv stain, 62 UNDER THE BRACKEN 63 Fouling their own bodies so They might not be clean again: But when the living from the dead Arose again the angels said, Behold, our work was not in vain. THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME She watched the blaze, And so I said the thing I'd come to say, Pondered for days. Her lips moved slow, And then a widened eye she flashed upon me Sudden as a blow. She turned again, Her hands clasping her knees and did not speak : She did not deign. And I, poor gnome! A chided cur crawls to a hole to hide : . . . I toddled home. 64 SHAME I was ashamed, I dared not lift my eyes, I could not bear to look upon the skies ; What I had done ! sure, everybody knew ! From everywhere hands pointed where I stood, And scornful eyes were piercing through and through The moody armor of my hardihood. I heard their voices too, each word an asp That buzz'd and stung me sudden as a flame: And all the world was jolting on my name, And now and then there came a wicked rasp Of laughter, jarring me to deeper shame. And then I looked, but there was no one nigh, No eyes that stabbed like swords or glinted sly, «5 66 THE HILL OF VISION No laughter creaking on the silent air: And then I found that I was all alone Facing my soul, and next I was aware That this mad mockery was all my own. SAID THE YOUNG-YOUNG MAN TO THE OLD-OLD MAN I I wish I had not grown to man's estate, I wish I was a silly urchin still, With bounding pulses and a heart elate To meet whatever came of good or ill. Of good or ill! not knowing what was good, A But groping to a better than I knew, And guessing deeper than I understood, And hoping truths that never could be true. Of good or ill! when, so it often seems, There is no good at all but only ill. Alas, the sunny summer-time of dreams, The dragons I had nerved my hand to kill, The maidens I should rescue, and the queen Whose champion long ago I would have been. 67 68 THE HILL OF VISION II I wish I had a hand as big as God's To smash creation into smithereens, Till nothing but a heap of stones or clods Remained of its ironic might-have-beens. The weary ages that have drifted by, The ages that have still to shirk and slink, Have fashioned us the image of an eye, And brains that weary when they try to think. For all is as it was, and all will be Experimental still in ages hence: Poor eyes that ache because they cannot seel Poor minds that strive without a recom- pense ! And after all the climbing climb we still To find o'er every height a steeper hill. SAID THE YOUNG-YOUNG MAN 69 III I wished I was a saint not long ago, But now I do not wish it any more : Who'd be the ebb if he might be the flow That bursts in thunder on the solid shore. I'd be a wave impetuous as life And not the skulking backwash that is death. I would not lose a pang of heated strife For all the comfort that the Preacher saith. Straight beds of that oblivion! sodden sleep, That dreams renunciations deeper still ! Renouncing only what they cannot keep For trembling fingers and for flaccid will. And yet the dreams of long ago had got A colour my awakening forgot. 70 THE HILL OF VISION IV I love rich venison and mellow wine: To sprawl upon a meadow in the sun : To swing a cane, and kiss a girl, and dine, To break and mend and fashion things for fun. I love to look at women as they pass : I love to watch a valiant horse go by: To hear a lark sing from the seedy grass: To praise a friend and mock an enemy. The glory of the sunlight and the day, The loveliness when evening closes slow, The clouds that droop away and far away Just faintly tinged by day's last afterglow. And yet I fear lest misery and grief Like misers hide a joy beyond belief. SAID THE YOUNG-YOUNG MAN 71 V Perhaps you hearken to a wiser muse! The undersong of life rolling along So deep, so scarcely audible, we lose The tremble of that densely weighted song : We who are toned to lighter melodies, The bee that murmurs in the scented grass, The sharper sweetness from the nested trees, The winds that laugh and weep before they pass. We well may miss that solemn monotone. But ye can miss the nightingale in June ! For music that is cousin to a groan, For agonies that writhe upon a tune! Drear happiness ! the linnet in the tree Astounds your rhythms like a mockery. 72 THE HILL OF VISION VI I wish that I were dead: I wish indeed That I were dead and buried in the ground, Deep down below the deepest rooted weed And nothing left, not even one small mound To show where I was lying. If I lay Long-stretched and silent in that blank re- treat, I would not hear a sound of grave or gay, Or even those shy, softly-stepping feet That come and stand a while and go away. I would be so alone, so quite alone, And heedless as the dead can only be, Not minding what was hidden or was known, Or all the gropings of philosophy. If I were dead — but still I could not die While there were winds and clouds upon the sky. SAID THE OLD-OLD MAN 73 VII Said the Old-Old Man to the Young-Young Man Listen well to what I say, These are the names of demons gray. Smiling-Lip whose teeth are strong. Friendly-Hand, whose claws are long. Passionate-Eye, whose glare is fire. Kiss-of-Joy, who lives in mire. These are the names of demon foes Who taught the Devil all he knows. The lips of desire smile to hide The teeth of fierce oppression inside. The hand that gives and gives alway Only waits a time to slay. The eyes that woo with a fiery stare ^Are the eyes that roam anywhere. The kiss that is quick, and mad, and sweet Rolls the gutters along the street. 74 THE HILL OF VISION Beware of lips when smiling bland, Beware the gifts in a friendly hand, Beware the passionate eyes that woo, The sweetest kiss is the kiss to rue: A laugh is a lie and the truth a blow, — But you won't heed me whether or no. SECRETS When I was young I used to think. That every eye peered through a chink, And every man was hid behind His own thick self where none could find. That every woman in the street, Looking fair and smiling sweet, Was maybe hiding thoughts that were Not quite so sweet, nor quite so fair As her kind smile and blossom face; She hived in some forgotten place Within herself and could not bear That any man should see her there. And though I'm older still I see In every face a mystery. 71 CROOKED-HEART I loosed an arrow from my bow Down into the world below; Thinking "This will surely dart, Guided by my guiding fate, Into the malignant heart Of the person whom I hate." So by hatred feathered well Swift the flashing arrow fell: And I watched it from above Disappear Cleaving sheer Through the only heart I love. Such the guard my angels keep! But my foe is guarded well: I have slain my love and weep Tears of blood, while he, asleep, Does not know an arrow fell ! 76 MAC DHOUL I saw them all, I could have laughed out loud To see them at their capers; That serious, solemn-footed, weighty crowd Of angels, or say resurrected drapers: Each with a thin flame swinging round his head, With lilting wings and eyes of holy dread, And curving ears strained for the great foot-fall, And not a thought of sin — . . . I don't know how I kept the laughter in. For I was there, Unknown, unguessed at, snug, In a rose tree's branchy spurt, With two weeks' whisker blackening lug to lug, With tattered breeks and only half a shirt. 77 78 THE HILL OF VISION Swollen fit to burst with laughter at the sight Of those dull angels drooping left and right Along the towering throne, each in a scare To hear His foot advance Huge from the cloud behind, all in a trance. And suddenly, As silent as a ghost, I jumped out from the bush, Went scooting through the glaring, nerve- less host All petrified, all gaping in a hush : Came to the throne and, nimble as a rat, Hopped up it, squatted close, and there I sat, Squirming with laughter till I had to cry, To see Him standing there Frozen with all His angels in a stare 1 He raised His hand, His hand! 'twas like a sky! Gripped me in half a finger, MAC DHOUL 79 Flipped me round and sent me spinning high Through the hot planets: faith, I didn't linger To scratch myself, and then adown I sped Scraping old moons and twisting heels and head A chuckle in the void till . . . here I stand As naked as a brick, I'll sing the Peeler and the Goat in half a tick. THE MERRY POLICEMAN I was appointed guardian by The Power that frowns along the sky, To watch the tree and see that none Plucked of the fruit that grew thereon. There was a robber in the tree, Who climbed as high as ever he Was able, at the top he knew The apple of all apples grew. The night was dark, the branch was thin, In every wind he heard the din Of angels calling — "Guardian, see That no one climbs upon the tree." And when he saw me standing there He shook with terror and despair, But I said to him — "Be at rest, The best to him who wants the best." So I was sacked, but I have got A job in hell to keep me hot. 80 TREASON He ran unto us in the little field, Out from the bordering trees sprang grim- acing: He swung his hand To the darkened land, And when he tried to speak to us he squealed; His voice curled from him like a fright- ened thing That had no sense, he fell down on the ground Laughing and weeping, then, uncouthly grim, He told a tale to us who stood around; And when his tale was told we fled from him. "O, we are lost," said he, "there is no hope, I say there is not any hope at all; We are betrayed, 81 82 THE HILL OF VISION The prayers we prayed, Our very tears, our love, our hands that grope Tremblingly skyward, and our knees that fall Down to adore them, all our hopes and fears, Our tremblings and our raptures are a joke, Poor follies for the laughter and the sneers Of those black demons and the shining folk. "I saw the radiant gods, a multitude Who flew down quickly to a place I know; A meadow fair, I will not tell you where: And from behind the moon a blacker brood Drove steeply down to where the gods below, (A white assembly; circling vast around,) Stood rank on rank in orderly array, And in the center on a higher ground Was one more beautiful than tongue can say. TREASON 83 "I cried — alas, the good ones do not see These demons come to take them in a snare — My cudgel I Heaved shoulder-high And ran to aid them, ran so furiously My heart nigh broke, in running to get there, Nigh broke I say in pity as I ran: My heart ! ah, gods, what laughter ye had made Of this poor foolish loving-blinded man If he had died in running to your aid. "But I was late, ere I could reach the place The demons had descended to the ground : Each pointed wing A moment fluttering, And then the demons ran to an embrace With those white-shining ones, and made a sound Of joy and brotherhood, and gripped each hand, And laughed for merriment and danced for glee, 84 THE HILL OF VISION And shouted salutation band to band, And held and kissed each other lovingly. "After a little time I stole away, I scarce could steal away for crazy pain: I heard them plan Of time and space and man, And what to do each in a different way And far apart, and when they'd meet again. Alas, we are betrayed ! the devils are Blood-brothers of the gods, where shall we see But in each other now a guiding star? Ah comrades, do ye also fly from me?" THE FAIRY BOY A little Fairy in a tree Wrinkled his wee face at me: And he sang a song of joy All about a little boy, Who upon a winter night, On a midnight long ago, Had been wrapt away from sight Of the world and all its woe: Wrapt away, Snapt away To a place where children play In the sunlight every day. Where the winter is forbidden, Where no child may older grow, Where a flower is never hidden Underneath a pall of snow; Dancing gaily Free from sorrow, Under dancing summer skies, 85 86 THE HILL OF VISION Where no grim mysterious morrow Ever comes to terrorize. This I told a priest and he Spoke a word of mystery, And with candle, book and bell, Tolling Latin like a knell, Ruthless he From the tree, Sprinkling holy water round, Drove the Fairy down to hell, There in torment to be bound. So the tree is withered and There is sorrow on the land: But the devils milder grow Dancing gay Every day In that kinder land below: There the devils dance for joy And love that little wrinkled boy. WHAT THE DEVIL SAID It was the night time, God the Father Good, Weary of praises, on a sudden stood Up from His throne and leaned upon the r, Sky ' For He had heard a sound, a little cry, Thin as a whisper climbing up the steep. And so he looked to where the Earth asleep Rocked with the moon, He saw the whirl- ing sea Swing round the world in surgent energy, Tangling the moonlight in its netted foam, And nearer saw the white and fretted dome Of the ice-capped pole spin back a larded ray To whistling stars, bright as a wizard's day. But these He passed with eyes intently wide, 87 88 THE HILL OF VISION Till closer still the mountains He espied Squatting tremendous on the broad-backed Earth ; Each nursing twenty rivers at a birth. And then minutely sought He for the cry Had climbed the slant of space so hugely high. He found it in a ditch outside a town, A tattered, hungry woman crouching down By a dead Babe — so there was nought to do, For what is done is done, and back He drew Sad to His Heaven of ivory and gold; And as He sat, all suddenly there rolled From where the woman wept upon the sod Satan's deep voice, "O, thou unhappy God!" TO THE TREE Ballad! I have a message you must bear Unto a certain tree : I may not tell Where she abides, only, she is more fair Than any tree that grows down in the dell, Or on the mountain top, or by the well, Or as a lovely sentinel beside The roaming stream. No words can speak her well, Nor lyric sing enough her arms so wide, Her grace, her peace, her innocence, her happy pride. Come quickly, Ballad, back to me again, After you have delivered to the tree My humble service, and if she will deign To trust you with a message back, then see Most strictly you forget no word that she Shall speak to you, no lightest yes or no: And what she looked like when she spoke of me, 89 90 THE HILL OF VISION And if she begged you stay or bade you go, Or hesitated ere she said — what you shall know. Say — I will come before the day is done, When the cool evening trembles to the dark And one ray only of the dying sun Rests on her topmost branches, when the lark Dips steeply to the grasses in the park And only now and then sends from below Her sleepy song: then, swift as to the mark An arrow flies, so swiftly I will go Nor stay until her branches wide I halt below. There is a crow, a fowl of evil fame, Whom one day by the grace of God I'll slay, Because he has adventured to my dame And in her bosom hides himself away: A wicked, curious crow, all hoary-gray; He listens to her heart that throbs so fleet Along the trunk and by the slender way Of her young veins whereat the branches meet: TO THE TREE 91 A curious, bad, old, wicked crow and in- discreet. Most Beautiful! of every tree the queen! About her feet the grasses wave for glee, About her feet the forest folk are seen; The timid nymph bends down a ready knee, And mighty Pan himself, unwillingly, Yet all perforce, must stoop before her grace, And round about in a wild ecstasy The light- foot satyrs (stayed from an em- brace) Stare shamefully and dance and mince with antic pace. Fortress of melody! well hidden heart! Deep bosomed lady whom I love so well ! Dear solitude of singers without art! Sweet shadiness wherein I long to dwell, Enrapt and comforted from any spell Of thought or care or woefulness or sin; Or trouble which a man may not foretell; 92 THE HILL OF VISION Or slothful ease which it is death to win; Or fear which cometh at the last and creep- eth in. If you among her little leaves will fly And what they whisper bring to me again, Dear Ballad, I will write your history Upon a sheepskin with a golden pen; It shall be read by women and by men: Each youth will sing it to his paramour As they go roving in the evening when All joy is innocence and love is lore, And you and youth and love will live for evermore. Rapture and joy and ecstasy and pain! The windy trumpets of the void shall soar Over the sky. The Morning Stars again Will sing together joyous as of yore: The sea shall tramp with banners on the shore : The little hills skip merrily along The forest leave its field and with a roar TO THE TREE 93 Stride down the pathway shouting out a song, And everything be happy as the day is long. Envoi Ballad, farewell! go tell her how I burn, Say I am dead until her face I see: And I will wait and sigh till you return, And plague the god of love and life to favour me. ORA PRO NOBIS A bird is singing now; Merrily Sings he Of his mate on the bough, And her eggs in the tree; But yonder a hawk Swoops down from the blue And the bird's song is finished — Is this story true? God now have mercy on me and on you. 94 AFTERWARDS Maidenhood, maidenhood, whither art thou gone away from mef Never again will I come to thee, never again. — Sappho. Am I a bride? I scarce can think it, I Who yesterday was quick to blush and hide Behind my mother's skirts, and often cried — (Foolish to be so shy) When strangers came and mother was not nigh. Strange, I am wed! Wife to be held and kissed 1 And no one chides his head beside my head, Nor cries, "Thou bad thing, fie!" but all instead Smile blessingly. I wist It is a wonder tale . . . yet something dear is missed. 95 96 THE HILL OF VISION No longer free. Love's captive I am ta'en. Now whither art thou gone away from me Dear maidenhood? "O, I am so far from thee. And howso thou complain, I never more may come to thee again." THE END OF THE ROAD To JE This is a thing is true, Everything comes to an end: The loving of me and you, The walking of friend and friend. Shall I weep the beauty I knew, Or the greatness gathered away Or the truth that is only true, As the things that a man will say? The child and the mother will die, The wife and the husband sever, The sun will go out of the sky, And the rain will be falling for ever. For ever until the waves rear To the skies with a terrible tune, And cover the earth and air, And climb up the beach of the moon. 7 97 98 THE HILL OF VISION Then go, for all things must end, And this is true as I say — A friend will be leaving a friend, And a man will be going away. WIND AND TREE To jE "A woman is a branchy tree And man a singing wind, And from her branches carelessly He takes what he can find: Then man and wind go far away While winter comes with loneliness, With cold and rain and slow decay On woman and on tree till they Droop down unto the ground and be A withered woman, a withered tree; While wind and man woo undismayed Another tree, another maid." 99 EVE Long ago in ages gray, I was fashioned out of clay: Builded with the sun and moon, Kneaded to a holy tune; And there came to me a breath From the House of Life and Death. Then the sun roared into fire, And the moon with swift desire Leaped among the starry throng Singing on her journey long; And I climbed up from the sod, Holding to the hand of God. In a garden fair and wide Looking down a mountain side, Prone I lay and felt the press Of Immensity's caress, There a space I lived and knew What the Power meant to do. 100 EVE 101 Till upon a day there came Down to me a voice of flame, "Thou the corner-stone of man, Rise and set about my plan, Nothing doubting, for a guide I have quickened in thy side." From the garden wide and fair, From the pure and holy air, Down the mountain side I crept Stumbling often, ill-adept; Feeling pangs of woeful bliss Rounding from the primal kiss. Then from out my straining side Came the son who is my guide : Him I nursed through faithful days Till I faltered at his gaze, Staring boldly when he saw I was woman, life, and law. Life and law and dear delight: I the moon upon the night All alluring: I the tree 102 THE HILL OF VISION Growing nuts of mystery: I the tincture and the dew That the apple reddens through. I desirable and sweet: I of fruitfulness complete: I the promise and the threat Which the gods may not forget : I the Weaver spinning blind Destinies for humankind. Lifting, lifting ever up Till I reach the golden cup: Groping down and ever down Till I find the buried crown: I the Searcher sent to bring Plumes for the Almighty's Wing. Weaving Life and Death I go: Building what I do not know: Planting tho' in sore distress, Gardens in the wilderness: Palaces too big to scan By the little eye of man. EVE 103 Knowing surely this is true, That the thing I have to do, Has been ordered by the breath From the House of Life and Death: It no wind of chance or wide Cloud of doubt may set aside. Still the sun roars out in fire, And the moon with pale desire Keeps the path appointed her In the starry theatre: Sun and moon and I are true, To the work we have to do. THE BREATH OF LIFE (To Elizabeth Bloxham) And while they talked and talked, and while they sat Changing their base minds into baser coin; And telling — they! how truth and beauty join, And how a certain this was good, but that Was baser than the viper or the toad, Or the blind beggar glaring down the road. I turned from them in fury, and I ran To where the moon shone out upon the height, Down the long reaches of a summer night, Stretching slim fingers, and the starry clan Grew thicker than the flowers that we see Clustered in quiet fields of greenery. Around me was the night-time sane and cold, 104 THE BREATH OF LIFE 105 The clouds that knew no care and no re- straint Swung through the silences, or drifted faint To pale horizons, wreathing fold on fold, The moon's sharp edge, each rolling cloud a sea, A foam of silver shining gloriously. The quietudes that sunder star from star, The hazy distances of loneliness, Where never eagle's wing or timid press Of lark or wren could venture, and the far Profundities untravelled and unstirred By any act of man or thought or word. These held me with amazement and de- light: I yearned up through the spaces of the sky, Beyond the rolling clouds, beyond the high And delicate white moon, and up the height, And past the rocking stars, and out to where The ether failed in spaces sharp and bare. 106 THE HILL OF VISION The breath that is the very breath of life Throbbed close to me: I heard the pulses beat, That lift the universes into heat: The slow withdrawal, and the deeper strife Of His wide respiration, like a sea It ebbed and flooded through immensity. His breath alone in wave on mighty wave ! O moon and stars swell to a raptured song ! Ye mountains toss the harmony along ! O little men with little souls to save Swing up glad chantings, ring the skies above, With boundless gratitude for boundless love! Probing the ocean to its steepest drop; Rejoicing in the viper and the toad, And the blind beggar glaring down the road; And they who talk and talk and never stop Equally quickening; with a care to bend The gnat's slant wing into a swifter end. THE BREATH OF LIFE 107 Searching the quarries of all life, the deep Low crannies and shy places of the world, To warm the smallest insect that is curled In a deep root, or on the sun to heap Fiercer combustion, spending love on all In equal share, the mighty and the small. The silence clung about me like a gift, The tender night-time folded me around Protectingly, and in a peace profound The clouds drooped slowly backward drift on drift Into the darkness, and the moon was gone, And soon the stars had vanished every one. But on the sky, a handsbreadth in the west, A faint cold brightness crept and soared and spread, Until the rustling heavens overhead, And the gray trees and grass were manifest: Then through the chill a golden spear was hurled, And the big sun tossed laughter on the world. IN THE COOL OF THE EVENING I thought I heard Him calling. Did you hear A sound, a little sound? My curious ear Is dinned with flying noises, and the tree Goes — whisper, whisper, whisper silently Till all its whispers spread into the sound Of a dull roar. Lie closer to the ground, The shade is deep and He may pass us by, We are so very small, and His great eye, Customed to starry majesties, may gaze Too wide to spy us hiding in the maze: Ah, misery ! the sun has not yet gone And we are naked: He will look upon Our crouching shame, may make us stand upright Burning in terror — O, that it were night! He may not come . . . what? listen, listen, now — He is here! lie closer . . . Adam, where art thou? 1 08 NEW PINIONS I tore the shackles from my feet, The bandage from my straining eye, I spread my wings above the street And soared upon the sky. I knew the stars for friends, and knew The sun and moon more happy grew To see me flying by. And they, far down below, who moved With hobbled ankles, groping mad Among the gutters disapproved And said that it was sad A man should want to leave the sty, To spread his wings abroad and fly When garbage might be had. But I in converse with the sun, Or visiting the moon on high, Or joining with a star to run Mad races on the sky, 109 no THE HILL OF VISION Can hardly find the time to spare A thought for the dull gropers there Who never lift an eye. PSYCHOMETRIST I listened to a man and he Had no word to say to me : Then unto a stone I bowed, And it spoke to me aloud. "The Force that bindeth me so long, Once moved in the linnet's song, Now upon the ground I lie, While the centuries go by. "Linnets must for joy atone And he fastened into stone, While upon the waving tree Stones shall sing in Energy." in THE WINGED TRAMP I saw a poor man walking slow, Scarcely knowing where to go; And from door to door he said, Unto those who stood within, — "Give me, with a little bread, Absolution for my sin." And the people always said, — "Friend, come in and eat our bread; Lay you down and rest a while, Sleep a little time and pray Unto God and He will smile All your weighty sin away." Then the poor man rose and flew Up to God and no one knew He was God's beloved Son: And He told His Father plain What the folk had said and done: — So God spared the world again. 8 112 POLES Cleric and Convict are moulded on, The same old grinning skeleton, And a saint might think if he looked within That the Devil had gotten beneath his skin. "3 CHOPIN'S FUNERAL MARCH Yea, ye shall rest, O be sure that your sleep will endure: Through the daylight, the dusk, and the dark, while the moon and the sun Rise successive and fail and die down when the journey is done : Ye shall rest, taking heed of no thing that shall come or shall go: Ye shall sleep through the thunder nor heed when the hurricanes blow: When the strong trees are felled and the rocks topple down from the height: While the mountains dissolve into sand and the valleys upright Climb stark into mountains again, ye shall hear not a sound, Secure in the sleep that I give in the heart of the ground : 114 CHOPIN'S FUNERAL MARCH 115 Till the earth like a mote through the spaces falls into the sun, And the work of all things that have been is a work that is done. THE MONKEY'S COUSIN I shall reach up, I shall grow Till the high gods say — "Hello, Little brother, you must stop Ere our shoulders you o'ertop." I shall grow up, I shall reach Till the little gods beseech — "Master, wait a little, do, We are running after you I" I shall bulk and swell and scale Till the little gods shall quail, Running here and there to hide From the terror of my stride. 116 THE LONELY GOD {To Stephen MacKenna) So Eden was deserted, and at Eve Into the quiet place God came to grieve. His face was sad, His hands hung slackly down Along His robe, too sorrowful to frown He paced along the grassy paths and through The silent trees, and where the flowers grew Tended by Adam. All the birds had gone Out to the world, and singing was not one To cheer the lonely God out of His grief — The silence broken only when a leaf Tap't lightly on a leaf, or when the wind, Slow-handed, swayed the bushes to its mind. And so along the base of a round hill, Rolling in fern, He bent His way until 117 n8 THE HILL OF VISION He neared the little hut which Adam made, And saw its dusky rooftree overlaid With greenest leaves. Here Adam and his spouse Were wont to nestle in their little house Snug at the dew-time: here He, standing sad, Sighed with the wind, nor any pleasure had In heavenly knowledge, for His darlings twain, Had gone from Him to learn the feel of pain, And what was meant by sorrow and de- spair, — Drear knowledge for a Father to pre- pare. There He looked sadly on the little place, A beehive round it was, without a trace Of occupant or owner: standing dim Among the gloomy trees it seemed to Him A final desolation, the last word Wherewith the lips of silence had been stirred. THE LONELY GOD 119 Chaste and remote, so tiny and so shy, So new withal, so lost to any eye, So pac't of memories all innocent Of days and nights that in it had been spent In blithe communion, Adam, Eve, and He, Afar from Heaven and its gaudery And now no more! He still must be the God But not the friend; a Father with a rod Whose voice was fear, whose countenance a threat, Whose coming terror, and whose going wet With penitential tears; not evermore Would they run forth to meet Him as before With careless laughter, striving each to be First to His hand and dancing in their glee To see Him coming — they would hide in- stead At His approach, or stand and hang the head, 120 THE HILL OF VISION Speaking in whispers, and would learn to pray Instead of asking, "Father, if we may." Never again to Eden would He haste At cool of evening, when the sun had paced Back from the tree-tops, slanting from the rim Of a low cloud, what time the twilight dim, Knit tree to tree in shadow, gathering slow Till all had met and vanished in the flow Of dusky silence, and a brooding star Stared at the growing darkness from afar, While haply now and then some nested bird Would lift upon the air a sleepy word Most musical, or swing its airy bed To the high moon that drifted overhead. 'Twas good to quit at evening His great throne, To lay His crown aside, and all alone Down through the quiet air to stoop and glide Unkenned by angels : silently to hide THE LONELY GOD 121 In the green fields, by dappled shades, where brooks, Through leafy solitudes and quiet nooks Flowed far from heavenly majesty and pride, From light astounding and the wheeling tide Of roaring stars. Thus does it ever seem Good to the best to stay aside and dream In narrow places, where the hand can feel Something beside, and know that it is real. His angels ! silly creatures who could sing And sing again, and delicately fling The smoky censer, bow and stand aside All mute in adoration : thronging wide, Till nowhere could He look but soon He saw An angel bending humbly to the law Mechanic; knowing nothing more of pain, Than when they were forbid to sing again, Or swing anew the censer, or bow down, In humble adoration of His frown. This was the thought in Eden as He trod . . . It is a lonely thing to be a God. 122 THE HILL OF VISION So long ! afar through Time He bent His mind, For the beginning, which He could not find, Through endless centuries and backwards still Endless for ever, till His 'stonied will Halted in circles, dizzied in the swing Of mazy nothingness — His mind could bring Not to subjection, grip or hold the theme Whose wide horizon melted like a dream To thinnest edges. Infinite behind The piling centuries wire trodden blind In gulfs chaotic — so He could not see When He was not who always had To Be. Not even godly fortitude can stare Into Eternity, nor easy bear The insolent vacuity of Time: It is too much, the mind can never climb Up to its meaning, for, without an end, Without beginning, plan, or scope, or trend To point a path, there nothing is to hold THE LONELY GOD 123 And steady surmise: so the mind is rolled And swayed and drowned in dull Immen- sity. Eternity outfaces even Me With its indifference, and the fruitless year, Would swing as fruitless were I never here. And so for ever, day and night the same, Years flying swiftly nowhere, like a game Played random by a madman, without end Or any reasoned object but to spend What is unspendable — Eternal Woe! O Weariness of Time that fast or slow Goes never further, never has in view An ending to the thing it seeks to do, And so does nothing: merely ebb and flow, From nowhere into nowhere, touching so The shores of many stars and passing on, Careless of what may come or what has gone. O solitude unspeakable! to be For ever with oneself! never to see An equal face, or feel an equal hand, 124 THE HILL OF VISION To sit in state and issue reprimand, Admonishment or glory, and to smile Disdaining what has happened the while! O to be breast to breast against a foel Against a friend ! to strive and not to know The laboured outcome : Love nor be aware How much the other loved, and greatly care With passion for that happy love or hate, Nor know what joy or dole was hid in fate. For I have ranged the spacy width and gone Swift north and south, striving to look upon An ending somewhere. Many days I sped Hard to the west, a thousand years I fled Eastwards in fury, but I could not find The fringes of the Infinite. Behind And yet behind, and ever at the end Came new beginnings, paths that did not wend To anywhere were there : and ever vast And vaster spaces opened — till at last Dizzied with distance, thrilling to a pain Unnameable, I turned to Heaven again. THE LONELY GOD 125 And there My angels were prepared to fling The cloudy incense, there prepared to sing My praise and glory — O, in fury I Then roared them senseless, then threw down the sky And stamped upon it, buffeted a star With My great fist, and flung the sun afar: Shouted My anger till the mighty sound Rung to the width, frighting the furthest bound And scope of hearing: tumult vaster still, Thronging the echo, dinned my ears, until I fled in silence, seeking out a place To hide Me from the very thought of Space. And so, He thought, in Mine own Image I Have made a man, remote from Heaven high And all its humble angels: I have poured My essence in his nostrils: I have cored His heart with My own spirit; part of Me His mind with laboured growth unceasingly Must strive to equal Mine ; must ever grow 126 THE HILL OF VISION By virtue of My essence till he know Both good and evil through the solemn test Of sin and retribution, till, with zest, He feels his godhead, soars to challenge Me In Mine own Heaven for supremacy. Through savage beasts and still more sav- age clay Invincible, I bid him fight a way To greater battles, crawling through defeat Into defeat again : ordained to meet Disaster in disaster: prone to fall I prick him with My memory to call Defiance at his victor and arise With anguished fury to his greater size Through tribulation, terror and despair Astounded, he must fight to higher air, Climb battle into battle till he be Confronted with a flaming sword and Me. So growing age by age to greater strength, To greater beauty, skill and deep intent: With wisdom wrung from pain, with en- ergy THE LONELY GOD 127 Nourished in sin and sorrow he will be Strong, pure and proud an enemy to meet, Tremendous on a battle-field, or sweet To walk by as a friend with candid mind. — Dear enemy or friend so hard to find, I yet shall find you, yet shall put My breast In enmity or love against your breast Shall smite or clasp with equal ecstasy The enemy or friend who grows to Me. The topmost blossom of his growing I Shall take unto Me, cherish and lift high Beside Myself upon My holy throne : — It is not good for God to be alone. The perfect woman of his perfect race Shall sit beside Me in the highest place And be My Goddess, Queen, Companion, Wife, The rounder of My majesty, the life, Of My ambition. She will smile to see Me bending down to worship at her knee Who never bent before, and she will say, — "Dear God, who was it taught Thee how to pray?" 128 THE HILL OF VISION And through eternity, adown the slope Of never-ending time, compact of hope, Of zest and young enjoyment, I and She Will walk together, sowing jollity Among the raving stars, and laughter through The vacancies of Heaven, till the blue Vast amplitudes of space lift up a song, The echo of our presence, rolled along And ever rolling where the planets sing The majesty and glory of the King. Then conquered, thou, eternity, shall lie Under my hand as little as a fly. I am the Master: I the mighty God And you My workshop. Your pavilions trod By Me and Mine shall never cease to be, For you are but the magnitude of Me, The width of My extension, the surround Of My dense splendor. Rolling, rolling round, To steeped infinity and out beyond My own strong comprehension you are bond THE LONELY GOD 129 And servile to My doings. Let you swing More wide and ever wide you do but fling Around this instant Me, and measure still The breadth and the proportion of My Will. Then stooping to the hut — a beehive round — God entered in and saw upon the ground The dusty garland, Adam, (learned to weave) Had loving placed upon the head of Eve Before the terror came, when joyous they Could look for God at closing of the day Profound and happy. So the Mighty Guest Bent, took, and placed the blossoms in His breast. "This," said He gently, "I shall show My queen When she hath grown to Me in space serene, And say " 'twas worn by Eve." So, smil- ing fair, He spread abroad His wings upon the air. 9 HAIL AND FAREWELL The poem is sung. The picture quite Finished and hung In the candid light; But poet and painter must go away Ere they hear what the critical people say. Age after age, Without a break, A prophet shall rage By a lonely lake: And know not ere he has gone away Who is to listen to what he'll say. But the poet shall hear, The painter see The praises dear Of their mystery: And poet and painter and prophet find The glory they thought they had left be- hind. 130 HAIL AND FAREWELL 131 There is an ear To hear the song, An eye to peer At the picture long: A brain to gather the tale and bless The prophet who spoke to the wilderness. T HE following pages contain advertisements of a few of the Macmillan books by the same author or on kindred subjects. RECENT VOLUMES OF POETRY INSURRECTIONS By James Stephens Cloth, 12mo, $.40 net; by mail, $.44. "A volume which cannot fall to appeal because of its graceful expression, sincerity of purpose and fine feeling for natural beauty." — Providence Journal. POEMS: Selected by the Author By Madison Cawein With a Foreword by William Dean Howells Decorated Cloth, gilt top, 12mo, 298 pp., $1.35 net; by mail, $1.44. "I would put Mr. Caweio first among those Midwestern poets of which he is the youngest. In a certain tenderness of light and coloring, the poems recall the mellowed masterpieces of the older literatures rather than those of the New England ichool, where conscience deals almost rebukingly with beauty.'' — William Dean Howells. "Mr. Cawein is essentially a native poet. America breathes from every page."— Chicago Tribune. THE OVERTURE and Other Poems By Jefferson Bulter Fletcher Cloth, gilt top, 12mo, 203 pp., $1.25 net; by mail, $1.32. "The verses have a certain scholarly distinction of diction and an effective plaintive delicacy that discloses the true poetic afflatus." — Philadelphia Public Ledger. PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64 - 66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK POEMS By PERCY MACKAYE Decorated cloth, tiU tot 190 t'S» *»*'* # M '? ^'m', MacKaye has ^ady .^og^ed %»££& SS£ SVYtm Jr P .«« l£et P-inVSuively .-at those who forecast {or him a brilliant future were right. Ode on the Centenary of Abraham Lincoln pnce, $.n «., t, **a. «.« The centennial of Lincoln's birth is an occasion to inspire a great patriotic effort; and the poet has not been w»|jnB MacKa ye', The dignity ttncenty, and "° bie S ^ P £ ^dentf and 1 no one who poem make it a fitting Memorial o the great F , charac ter. cares for Lincoln's lame will wi.h to miMtMatriDu^ of ^ Hitherto Mr. MacKaye has been c °"J' d "'° it th ' ising of American younger dramatists of the day _.n 1 one of he most P«» ..« c| whQ haye -7it Jl h a«rh^re n amon h gth^greI^n h es in American literature. By WENDELL P. STAFFORD Dorian Days c >°»>> «-■ * J ■" "" A volume of Poemfby Justice W^.^^- Court of the District of Columb, . T » le, J 8 ™^,; , he lnsp i r ,. the fact that the beauty of an cent Sree wliM g ^ the Sro'f te w°rhas SSK?A2SJi- - <»< UN of hi, own day as Justice Stafford is particularly noteworthy. By Mrs. ELLA HIGGINSON When the Birds Go North A^ain amid the attractive "The poetry of the volume is good, and its rare setting, scenes and P unde r °,he light of a sunset land, w.ll const.tute an charm to many readers."-^ So,ton Transect. The Voice of April-land and Other Poems "«*• " m0 - $1 ■" "'< The Chicago Trihune say, that Mrs. H.«in.o.Hn her verse, a, in her ptose, "has voiced the elusive bewitchment of the West. PUBLISHED BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY 64-66 Fifth Avenue, New York fEB 26 1912 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper proci Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: July 2009 PreservationTechnologi A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVA1 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 (724) 779-2111 One copy del. to Cat. Div. FEB 26 1912 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS II 014 703 976 1