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 POEMS 
 
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PAESTUM 
 
 and Other Poems 
 
PAESTUM 
 
 and Other Poems 
 
 By ALEXANDER 
 BLAIR THAW 
 
 BRENTANO S 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 KEGAN PAUL, TRENCH, TRUBNER & Co. 
 LONDON LTD. 
 
 1909 
 
To my 
 Florence 
 
 -, x? < 
 
 JV f ) nr v ^ 
 IV I ..* ^ 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Paestum / 
 
 To Shelley and Keats in Rome M 
 
 The Christinas Tree i J 
 The Song of the Rivets 
 The Passing of the Potent. 
 In the Giant Forest of the Sierras 
 An Inauguration Ode To the American People 
 
 Lincoln s Birth 4 1 
 
 When Chaos dwelt on Larth 43 
 
 To the Great God Pan 44 
 
 To Homer - 4o 
 
 The Silent Heart 47 
 
 To F. T. Si 
 
 The Life Spirit 5 2 
 
 Out of the South - 54 
 
 To Poetry I. 5 6 
 
 11. 57 
 
 111. 5S 
 
6 CONTENTS. 
 
 Close, Close my Heart - 59 
 
 Love, the Gardener - 60 
 
 By some Light Touch - 61 
 
 You Whispered, Love 62 
 
 For You and Me - 63 
 
 Love s Blind Eyes - - - 64 
 
 To "The Maiden" 65 
 
 Venus Victrix 69 
 
 The Venus of Milo Venus Genetrix - 70 
 
 The Earth Song 7! 
 
 To Robert Louis Stevenson 72 
 
 In Memoriam, R.L.S. The Light-house Builder s 
 
 Son 73 
 
 To a Laureate of Empire - 76 
 
 Fulfilment - - - 80 
 
 A Fragment 83 
 
 Time g^ 
 
 With Burning Hearts 85 
 
 Notes to "Paestum" 86 
 
PAESTUM. 
 
 STILL, Paestum, on thy lonely shore 
 
 The long waves break. Ah would, once more, 
 
 Out of that ocean s foam 
 
 The great sea-god might come, 
 Now, as of yore ! 
 
 Here on thy plain of shifting sands 
 This shrine, the first that mortal hands 
 
 Built by the Western sea, 
 
 Full of strange mystery, 
 All silent, stands. 
 
 Thy temple builders all are gone ; 
 Darkly the Western sea rolls on : 
 
 Still, in this flower-strewn space 
 
 Of grass, thy temples face 
 East, and the dawn. 
 
 Thy worshippers are fast asleep, 
 
 And, where thy city was, the sheep 
 Feed midst those strange, pale flowers, 
 Which through thy dreaming hours 
 Their long watch keep. 
 
PAESTUM. 
 
 And as the seawind, rising, swells, 
 Thy spirit wakes. The asphodels 
 
 Whisper thy dreams ; there pass 
 
 Dim shadows o er the grass : 
 By such strange spells, 
 
 Back through the open gates of death 
 
 Thy spirit freely wandereth ; 
 And from far ages past 
 Blows, through the years, at last 
 A living breath. 
 
 This is no wanton Southern breeze, 
 But on our hearts, and o er thy seas, 
 
 Sweeps the fierce gale that once 
 
 Brought hither first the sons, 
 And songs, of Greece. 
 
 Sailors and traders from all parts 
 
 Of that young world, they brought the arts 
 
 That ever shall endure 
 
 While burns youth s ardent, pure 
 Fire in young hearts. 
 
 With them came those bright gods, to aid, 
 And goddesses : for whom they made 
 
 Shrines on this alien shore, 
 
 Where yet no man before 
 Aspiring, prayed. 
 
PAESTUM. 
 
 Where the great sea-god s steeds of war 
 Fling their white line of foam afar, 
 And thick sea-mists arise, 
 Blotting from thy clear skies 
 Each guiding star, 
 
 Fearless the sons of Hellas roam, 
 And follow still that line of foam, 
 
 Past many perilous coasts, 
 
 Till in this land their hosts 
 Found a new home. 
 
 Athene, with the arts of peace, 
 Bringing the olive, gave increase 
 
 To all her sons, whose toil 
 
 Should sanctify the soil 
 Of this new Greece. 
 
 Paestum, eternal youth was thine, 
 Whose children from the Achaean line 
 Of Argos had their birth, 
 And shared the might and mirth 
 Of gods divine. 
 
 For centuries endured thy youth, 
 And knew no sorrow, save in sooth, 
 
 Such shadows as presage 
 
 The coming on of age, 
 That knows no ruth. 
 
io PAESTUM. 
 
 Thy sons, whose faith these temples made, 
 Facing the East, with death s dark shade 
 
 Went forth, to dwell among 
 
 Those heroes Homer sung, 
 All unafraid. 
 
 Thy daughters worshipped without fear 
 Demeter wandering, far and near, 
 Those fields of asphodels 
 Where her lost daughter dwells : 
 And twice each year 
 
 Thy roses bloomed ! l Thy maidens wrought 
 Late wreaths for her as still she sought, 
 O er the wide earth, her child 
 Who, with each spring, the wild 
 Spring roses brought. 
 
 Thy virgins worshipped, without shame. 
 That sea-born goddess, at whose name, 
 
 Within love s frightened eyes, 
 
 Under thy sunlit skies, 
 Love s first hope came. 
 
 And when Poseidon angry grows, 
 Safe from old ocean still, thy rose 
 
 Puts forth her fragrant leaf; 
 
 And thou art free from grief, 
 Safe from all foes. 
 
PAESTUM. ii 
 
 Safe ! O alas ! Down on their knees 
 Thy sons who ruled o er this new Greece 
 
 Now bend, with bitter tears 
 
 Weeping their long lost years 
 Of power and peace. 
 
 Forth from the mountains come fierce waves 
 Of savage men ; and no god saves 
 
 Thy children from their hands, 
 
 E en where this temple stands 
 To dwell as slaves ; 
 
 Who, grateful for their captors scorn, 
 Come yearly now, a band forlorn, 
 
 To sing the mighty songs 
 
 Of old ; and their new wrongs, 
 Mutely, to mourn. 
 
 And now ! The singers all are dumb ; 
 Though vainly still their children thrum 
 
 The broken strings. And yet, 
 
 That Song, who shall forget ! 
 The bees still hum 
 
 On steep Hymettus as of yore, 
 And hark, along thy lonely shore, 
 
 Float far off melodies 
 
 Up from the distant seas, 
 As once, before ! 
 
12 PAESTUM. 
 
 Still shines the same bright sun that shone 
 That morning o er the Parthenon, 
 
 When, taking wisdom s vows, 
 
 Men built Athene s house 
 In that first dawn ; 
 
 And Phoebus brought the gift of song, 
 That joined all Hellas, one glad throng 
 
 Where, on the Delphic slope, 
 
 The fire of human hope 
 Burned clear and strong. 
 
 Cold are thine altars ; yet the same 
 Spirit abides within that flame, 
 
 Which in thy shrine was lit, 
 
 Or in our hearts hath writ 
 Some holy Name. 
 
 Far o er the Western seas that beat 
 On shores unknown to thee, our feet 
 
 Have brought us to that place, 
 
 Where in the end the ways 
 Of all men meet, 
 
 And women s hearts, Though now we roam 
 O er wider seas, that line of foam 
 Reveals the storm-swept shore 
 Where w r e must build once more 
 Thy spirit s home. 
 
PAESTUM. 
 
 Beyond the dim Hesperides, 
 
 Or where, in yon dark Western seas, 
 
 Thy golden sun hath set, 
 
 For ever wandereth yet 
 Thy soul, O Greece ! 
 
TO SHELLEY AND KEATS IN ROME 
 
 TO SHELLEY AND KEATS IN ROME. 
 
 TWIN sons of sky and earth, like that great pair 
 
 Who last were seen of mortals, watering 
 Their steeds, at dawn, by Vesta s temple stair ! 
 
 Three columns watch by Rome s once sacred spring, 
 Where still their altar stands, inviolate 
 
 Amidst a world of ruin ; where mosses cling, 
 And those sweet ferns which now we consecrate 
 
 Unto the name of Venus, virgin, pure ; 
 On whose high worship, still, your twin souls wait ! 
 
 We spoil her sacred springs. Yet shall endure 
 
 Beauty on earth, and in that ocean s spray 
 Which in great waves of grief swept over your 
 
 Young lives, till, rising from the foam that lay 
 L T pon your drowned lips, she had new birth, 
 
 Breathing your songs. And still, beneath the sway 
 Of that great goddess, smiles the fruitful earth, 
 
 Since, on the wind-swept shores of Greece, she rose 
 Before men s wondering eyes. Darkness and dearth 
 
 Fly from her face ; who yet shall bring strange woes 
 
TO SHELLEY AND KEATS IN ROME 
 
 To all, among her mortal worshippers, 
 
 Who seek to see her. Still the worship grows, 
 And since your yearning spirits caught from hers 
 
 Some living secret, seeing in your dreams 
 That power of awful loveliness which stirs 
 
 Deep at life s heart, with swift, revealing gleams 
 Of her shy beauty, still she comes to you, 
 
 By desolate seas, and on the running streams 
 Among the mountains, and in fire and dew. 
 
 She comes in clouds, storm-driven, fierce lightnings 
 Revealing her, in visible might, even through^ 
 
 Tempest and thunder filling the far springs 
 Of earth, with the sweet rain, and the dim air 
 
 With her bright veil of light, wherein all things 
 Are clothed, as with her raiment. But you share 
 
 Some part of her deep spirit, whose dread power 
 Stirs in your hearts until they break, and bear 
 
 Fruit in your songs ; wherein her thoughts, that 
 
 flower 
 In simple Beauty, ripen to that Truth 
 
 We live upon. Though daily we devour 
 This fruit, yet Time, and Change, that knows no ruth, 
 
 Find at its heart a living" seed there lies, 
 And in your songs there dwells eternal youth. 
 
 The coming generations, as they rise, 
 
 Feed on such living truth as you have sung ; 
 
 And still the name of Keats, beneath the skies, 
 Is like a seed, by running waters flung, 
 
i6 TO SHELLEY AND KEATS IN ROME 
 
 Whereof new flowers shall blossom to the end 
 Of all the years, to keep the world s heart young. 
 
 And thou, whose heart, uplifted to defend 
 
 That name, Love gave strong wings, and grace to reach 
 Life s farther freedom, mourning for thy friend ! 
 
 Forth from thy heart, on earth s bare, sterile beach, 
 Grow flowers of fire ; and o er the world there flies 
 
 Love s fire-born, fertile pollen, as, on each 
 Wild wind that blows, still from that pyre arise 
 
 Thy deathless ashes, filling all the air, 
 Yet no more sure than love to find where lies 
 
 That other flame, though seeking everywhere. 
 But thy words, Shelley ! are as bees, that strive 
 
 To pierce the heart of Beauty, and to bear 
 Sweet burden back for all our swarming hive. 
 
 Even so, like bees, all unaware they bring 
 To every open flower, each soul alive, 
 
 Through all the world, on swift, untiring wing, 
 That wonder-making thought which thou hast heard 
 
 Her flower-like lips to utter. Thou dost sing 
 The song of silent hearts, and with a word 
 
 Waken the seeds of life ; O, not in vain 
 We still await the touch of power that stirred 
 
 Life into being first. In the sweet strain 
 Of thy swift, poignant music, Liberty 
 
 Is born, breathing great gasps of life, through pain 
 Of mortal labour brought to light ; that we 
 
 Who bear the sorrows of the pregnant earth 
 
TO SHELLEY AND KEATS IN ROME 
 
 May join in her rejoicing, and go free 
 
 Beneath the open sky. Sharing sweet mirth 
 With her bright, soaring birds, thy soul doth sing 
 
 Liberty ! Through fiery pangs of birth, 
 In that one word, the far, foreshadowing, 
 
 Dim thought of love in earth s deep spirit thrills 
 To life, upon thy lips, awakening 
 
 The sacred streams, which, pouring from the hills 
 Of her sweet bosom, ever fresh arise, 
 
 To feed her child of love, which she distils 
 Deep in her mother heart. Beneath dark skies 
 
 Thy spirit saw the light that comes before 
 The dawn ; to earth s faint, distant, low replies 
 
 Thy heart hath ever listened. Hark once more 
 The soul of Adonais, calling thee 
 
 Forth from the deep, back to this earthly shore ! 
 
 O, hear that cry ! Beside the wintry sea 
 
 We watch thy promised coming of the spring, 
 When mortal loveliness, with liberty, 
 
 Immortal, joins. O, brave companioning! 
 Kissed by the warm west wind, his earthly flowers 
 
 Come forth amidst the sand. On level wing, 
 Twin messengers of peace, with unseen powers, 
 
 On your great quest you come ; and, side by side, 
 Still lead the way in this strange war of ours. 
 
 Like those great brothers twain who once did ride 
 Before the Roman legions, lead us on 
 
1 8 TO SHELLEY AND KEATS IN ROME 
 
 Through the thick dust of battle ! O, still guide 
 
 Our steps through the long day ! The night is gone; 
 
 The stars are fading in the azure dome ; 
 
 And freedom, with the coming of the dawn, 
 
 Gives you her greeting on the hills of Rome. 
 
THE CHRISTMAS TREE ig 
 
 THE CHRISTMAS TREE. 
 
 WANDERING tribes now roam 
 
 The hills of Lebanon, 
 Knowing not house nor home ; 
 
 Gone the great cedars, gone 
 That temple built of them 
 Once, in Jerusalem. 
 
 Once, through the groves of Greece, 
 Down from the Delphic slope, 
 
 Rang their great songs of peace, 
 Filled with a burning hope, 
 
 Bearing strange prophecy 
 
 Of mortal liberty. 
 
 Once our forefathers heard, 
 
 Under the sacred oak, 
 Some strangely muttered word, 
 
 Whispered by tongues that spoke 
 Forth from the Druid tree, 
 Darkly, of things to be. 
 
20 THE CHRISTMAS TREE 
 
 Though to our senseless ears 
 The leaves no longer sing, 
 
 Yet, through the lapse of years, 
 A still small voice doth bring 
 
 Peace upon earth again, 
 
 And freedom to all men. 
 
 Set on a little hill, 
 
 Over a world that grieves, 
 One living tree shall still 
 
 Scatter its healing leaves, 
 Gathered for our distress 
 Out of the wilderness. 
 
 Out of the desert wild 
 
 Comes, with a heavenly voice, 
 News of a new-born child, 
 
 Bidding the world rejoice, 
 Bringing all those who roam 
 Back to each earthly home. 
 
 Now all the fruitful earth 
 With heaven is reconciled, 
 
 Since, on each sacred hearth, 
 And in her forests wild 
 
 Under the open skies, 
 
 Songs of pure love arise. 
 
THE CHRISTMAS TREE 21 
 
 Close by the tree of life 
 
 The tree of knowledge grows ; 
 And, through our wars and strife, 
 
 Up from the world s deep woes, 
 Where the dark roots entwine, 
 Is born the Word divine. 
 
 Out of much suffering 
 
 Still those mute altars rise, 
 Where perfect love shall bring 
 
 Life s willing sacrifice, 
 And little children bear 
 Earth s holy promise there. 
 
 Now, through the least of these, 
 
 Heaven on earth is come ; 
 Now the dark forest trees 
 
 Speak, and no more are dumb, 
 And a child s heart shall be 
 Fruit of this fertile tree. 
 
 Hark, in this burning bush, 
 Brought from the silent grove, 
 
 Out of that holy hush 
 
 Wakens the word of love, 
 
 Which o er the world, new-born, 
 
 Hovers, this happy morn. 
 
22 THE SONG OF THE RIVERS 
 
 THE SONG OF THE RIVERS, 
 
 THE words of the wind and the trees 
 
 Shall be heard by the dreamer of dreams ; 
 
 But the voices of fountains and streams 
 Ever echo the sound of the breeze, 
 
 And the heart of the silent wood 
 
 Cries aloud in the rivers at flood. 
 
 Hark to the song of the rivers 
 
 As they sing on their way to the sea, 
 As they tell of the things that shall be ! 
 
 Tellers of visions they are, great givers 
 Of life to each mortal thing. 
 Oh, hark to the music they sing ! 
 
 How they go on their way with rejoicing ; 
 Bright daughters are they of the sun, 
 Ever growing in strength as they run ; 
 
 As they flow on forever, still voicing 
 
 Vague secrets of death and of birth 
 
 Which they brought from the womb of the earth ! 
 
THE SONG OF THE RIVERS 23 
 
 Hark, the wild music that swells 
 
 From the heart of the sacred wood ! 
 
 Where the tree of the knowledge of good 
 And of evil is growing, where dwells, 
 
 In the leaves of the living tree, 
 
 The lone spirit of prophecy. 
 
 All faint were those whisperings 
 
 By the leaves of the forest first spoken ; 
 
 But their promise ne er shall be broken, 
 For they gave to the listening springs 
 
 Life, with strange powers to fulfil 
 
 The might of the forest s will. 
 
24 THE PASSING OF THE FOREST 
 
 THE PASSING OF THE FOREST. 
 
 As long as the forest shall live, 
 
 The streams shall flow onward, still singing 
 Sweet songs of the woodland, and bringing 
 
 The bright, living waters that give 
 New life to all mortals who thirst, 
 But the races of men shall be cursed. 
 
 Yea, the hour of destruction shall come, 
 To the children of men in that day 
 When the forests shall pass away ; 
 
 When the low woodland voices are dumb ; 
 And death s devastation and dearth 
 Shall be spread o er the face of the earth. 
 
 Avenging the death of the wood, 
 The turbulent streams shall outpour 
 Their vials of wrath, and no more 
 
 Shall their banks hold back the high flood, 
 Which shall rush o er the harvests of men; 
 And, as swiftly receding again, 
 
THE PASSING OF THE FOREST 
 
 Lo ! after the flood shall be dearth, 
 And the rain no longer shall fall 
 On the parching fields ; and a pall, 
 
 As of ashes, shall cover the earth ; 
 And dust clouds shall darken the sky ; 
 And the deep water wells shall be dry. 
 
 And the rivers shall sink in the ground, 
 And every man cover his mouth 
 From the thickening dust, in that drouth ; 
 
 Fierce famine shall come ; and no sound 
 Shall be borne on the desolate air 
 But a murmur of death and despair. 
 
26 IN THE GIAXT FOREST OF THE SIERRAS 
 
 IN THE GIANT FOREST OF THE SIERRAS 
 
 YE first of living things ! 
 
 Ye that were goodly trees 
 When the great King of Kings, 
 
 Building his garden wall, 
 Brought down to Babylon, 
 
 Upon her streams, the tall 
 Cedars of Lebanon. 
 
 Ye mighty trees ! 
 Ye which are first, of all 
 Kings of the wildwood ! 
 
 Over the earth and seas 
 
 Here we are come at last, 
 Weary with wanderings, 
 
 Down at your feet to fall ; 
 Here, by your mountain springs, 
 
 Silent and all alone, 
 Through the long ages past, 
 
 High on your granite throne 
 Ye stood in your glory. 
 
7A T THE GIANT FOREST OF THE SIERRAS 27 
 
 Mighty ye grew in girth, 
 Brother by brother 
 
 Bending your mighty knees 
 Down to the lap of earth, 
 While the great mother 
 Still to your listening ears 
 
 Whispered her story, 
 Tales of our wandering years, 
 
 Tales of our childhood. 
 
 Here on the mother s lap, 
 
 W T hen earth was young, 
 
 Your slender rootlets clung, 
 Like tender fingers pressed 
 Close to her maiden breast ; 
 
 Then first the living sap 
 
 Leaped from her bosom. 
 
 Now you are mighty trees, 
 Full forty centuries 
 Past, since that morn, 
 
 When on these stony hills 
 
 Bloomed your first blossom. 
 
 Led by your mountain rills, 
 We greet you, great brothers, first-born 
 Of our mother, the earth ! 
 Here, in the heart of the hills, 
 
28 I A" THE GIANT FOREST OF THE SIERRAS 
 
 Where you dwell 
 And forever have dwelt, 
 The great mother first felt 
 Through her virgin repose 
 
 The quickening spell 
 
 Of your birth. 
 
 And under the snows 
 Of these hills of her breasts, 
 
 Where they rise, 
 Where they lift their pure crests 
 
 To the skies, 
 Deep under the ground, 
 Where your strong roots are wound, 
 
 Her delicate veins 
 W r ith your growth have grown ; 
 
 And they swell 
 With the coming of life to these hills 
 
 Where you dwell, 
 
 With the sweep of the life-giving rains 
 Which her passion distils 
 
 From the pure, sunlit heavens above her. 
 
 Speak to us. Tell 
 Of the secret of life that is hers ; 
 
 How it stirs 
 In her breast that was stone ; 
 
 How it springs 
 Into life in the heart of all things, 
 
 As the strength of the sun, her great lover, 
 
IN THE GIANT FOREST OF THE SIERRAS 29 
 
 Softly steals her white garment away, 
 How her passion pours out the sweet rain, 
 Far and wide, over valley and plain, 
 
 From the darkening storm-clouds that cover 
 Her breast from the bright eye of day, 
 As a veil which the sky s fairest daughter, 
 
 Who was born of the foam of the seas, 
 From her birthplace the ocean has brought her 
 
 On the wings of the westerly breeze. 
 
 Ye guardians who treasure 
 
 The gracious gift of rain, 
 
 And still pour forth again, 
 Age after age, and year on year 
 In bounteous measure, 
 
 Your everlasting fountains ! 
 
 Up to these mountains, 
 Where evermore you stand, 
 
 Great sentinels 
 O er all this virgin land, 
 
 Guarding your sacred wells, 
 We come, to drink of these. 
 
 O, ye great trees ! 
 Who lift your lofty forms, 
 
 And gather earth s increase, 
 
 And reign in endless peace 
 
 Through all the centuries, 
 Amidst the passions of her storms ! 
 
AN INAUGURATION ODE 
 
 (Dedicated to the American People) 
 
AN INAUGURATION ODE 33 
 
 AN INAUGURATION ODE. 
 
 UNDER this banner of ours, unfurled 
 To the winds of the world, 
 
 We, by God s grace, 
 Citizens, Sovereigns, lords of this land, 
 
 Fixing on you for our choice, 
 
 Give you, this day, high place. 
 And the nation s voice,- 
 
 With a solemn roar 
 Like the murmur of wind in the trees, 
 With the might of the surge of the seas 
 
 As they break on the shore, 
 Gives unto you, to command 
 
 Over our armies of peace, 
 And over our servants, who stand 
 
 At watch in the house. 
 
 Solemn and mutual vows 
 
 We make this day ; 
 To defend our fair temple of state, 
 To protect the pure spirit of laws, 
 
34 AN INAUGURATION ODE 
 
 To watch and to pray 
 Against treason, within and without : 
 
 Within, for the fate 
 Of all our unborn generations 
 
 Hangs on these vows we make ; 
 
 Without, for our cause, 
 
 And this oath which you take, 
 Are the promise of peace to the nations. 
 For our war 
 
 Is the light against war, 
 And the strife against wrong ; 
 The battle of youth with doubt, 
 
 Of life with death. 
 And our song 
 
 Is the battle shout 
 Of a mighty army of peace ; 
 
 The living breath 
 Of new-born harmonies, 
 
 That shall be sung 
 
 In every human tongue. 
 
 This is the oath you take, 
 As you take up the fight against wrong- 
 To defend, 
 Even unto the end, 
 This, our cause ; this, the creed 
 
 We confess, 
 
 That Justice and Mercy endure, 
 With righteousness ; 
 
AN INAUGURATION ODE 35 
 
 And naught else is sure, 
 
 And naught less ! 
 
 Though men say 
 These are dreams, foolish dreams ; 
 
 Though the way 
 Through the desert still seems 
 Blind, perilous, wearily, endlessly long, 
 Shall the dust, that we raise 
 With our feet on the long trodden ways 
 Shut out all the light of our days? 
 Are we lost then, indeed? 
 Shall no leader be found, in our need ? 
 Is this then our life, evermore to rehearse 
 
 Those tales that are told 
 
 Of the people of old, 
 Who were faithless, perverse, 
 And worshipped strange gods, which they 
 wrought 
 
 With the work of their hands ! 
 
 Oh ye, 
 Ye who have climbed the heights and sought 
 
 The Lord s commands, 
 The table of that law which sets us free, 
 And, coming from the mountain, as of old, 
 Have found our god a beast, and made of gold, 
 
 Lead us onward still ! 
 Give us strength that we, 
 
3 6 AN INAUGURATION ODE 
 
 Out of our very weakness and our fears, 
 
 Make strong our will ; 
 
 That these weak hands of ours may yet fulfil 
 The promise of the years ; 
 
 And seize that kingdom, which by the Lord s decree 
 Is ours to win ; that country you behold 
 From lonely mountain heights, remote and cold ! 
 
 Shall we, whose fathers dared to smite 
 
 From off their limbs and lives 
 Those galling gyves, 
 Forged in the night 
 Of Europe s darkness, and fled 
 
 That ancient tyranny 
 Of warring kings, shall we not arise, 
 And cast from our eyes 
 Each subtle spell that blinds our sight ; 
 And, from our hearts, those ancient lies, 
 False visions of some earthly paradise ; 
 Those fetters of the soul that stay our might ; 
 Those flesh-pots of the mind ; that wandering light 
 Which leads where no true hills of promise rise ! 
 
 So shall we see, 
 
 When the true vision is at last revealed, 
 This is our portion in that promised land : 
 A sacred soil, to till, a place to stand 
 Against the Philistines ; a battle-field, 
 Where we must fight and fall ; yea, hand in hand 
 Fight on, to fall again, but never yield. 
 
AN INAUGURATION ODE 
 
 Since we have shunned the shadows that are cast 
 
 Upon the air, mirages of the sky ; 
 
 Since now at last 
 
 The long, long dreary desert space is past ; 
 Shall we in very madness, drunk with pride, 
 
 Set up base gods on high 
 Within the market place? 
 
 Or, seeking grace 
 
 To guide, 
 
 And kneeling down, each man upon his hearth, 
 Search for the living laws, where still they lie, 
 
 Scattered like seeds in the earth, 
 
 Till the children of men, 
 Toiling beneath the sun, 
 
 Shall raise them up again, 
 One by one, 
 
 As by a second birth, 
 And make them whole at last ! 
 
 Now no more, as of old, 
 
 Does the dust of our striving by day 
 
 Fill the sight of our eyes 
 
 With confusion, and mock us, and blind us ; 
 
 Nor shut out the light of the sun 
 
 Ere the day s work is done. 
 
 For the wind of the Lord blows behind us, 
 
 And loud 
 
 Is the sound of it ; 
 
3** AN INAUGURATION ODE 
 
 And as it was writ, 
 And the tale thereof told, 
 
 See, the columns of dust that arise 
 Are become as a pillar of cloud 
 
 In the skies, 
 To point our the way. 
 
 And our cup shall run o er 
 
 In the day of our need, 
 And He shall restore 
 
 And make whole, 
 In us and our seed, 
 The great living soul 
 Of the teeming 
 World, ever dreaming 
 Of things that are to be. 
 
 The things yet to be, 
 Are the things we must do, 
 To be constant and true 
 To our vow. 
 So, here and now, 
 We bid you stand, 
 
 Stand and receive the great oath, to protect 
 This fair temple of ours, which was planned 
 Through the ages of ages, 
 By the mind of the One 
 Great Architect : 
 
AN INAUGURATION ODE 39 
 
 This dream of the prophets and sages, 
 
 By whom the fair work was begun ; 
 This house which was made 
 
 By men s toil, 
 And the work of their hands, 
 
 Here under the sun ; 
 This temple, which stands 
 As a refuge for men of all nations : 
 
 Whose strong foundations 
 
 Forever firm are laid 
 
 In the free soil 
 Of the fertile earth, 
 And in every heart, on every hearth, 
 
 Where er still burn the sacred fires 
 
 Of liberty and brothers love. 
 
 And this living wall 
 
 Shall never move, 
 These lofty towers 
 
 Shall never fall, 
 But by our guilt, 
 
 And to our scathe, 
 For behold, they are built 
 Of the blood of our sons and our brothers, 
 And the faith 
 Of our mothers ; 
 And their glorious strength ever rests 
 
 In the graves of our sires, 
 And in our daughters breasts. 
 
40 AN INAUGURATION ODE 
 
 So this temple of ours, 
 Which was made 
 
 For a refuge for men, 
 Shall become as a house of the Lord. 
 So twice was it saved by the sword 
 
 Of our fathers, who fell, 
 In their faith s fierce endeavour, 
 
 That men coming after might dwell 
 
 Therein, unafraid, 
 With justice and mercv, for ever. 
 
LINCOLN S BIRTH 41 
 
 LINCOLN S BIRTH. 
 
 Feb. 12, 1809-1909. 
 
 LINCOLN ! Great Heart ! Again, and yet again, 
 
 Across the years, we call upon that name. 
 
 May your strong spirit keep us free from shame ! 
 
 Defender of the faith of all dead men 
 
 Who died for freedom ! Help us to defend 
 That freedom with our lives, even to the end ! 
 
 Yet, all these children, born of the same soil 
 That nourished you, you, from your mother s knee, 
 With roots in the clean earth like a strong tree, 
 Straight heavenward upsprung, shall we despoil 
 
 The children of their birthright! Hark, O, hark 
 Those little ones, still crying in the dark ! 
 
 Had every woman but her due reward, 
 
 Each workman his just hire, who then would kneel, 
 
 And watch his children broken on the wheel 
 
 His own hands turn ! O, give us grace to guard 
 
 These little souls that sink beneath our laws ! 
 
 Call forth all mother-love to serve this cause. 
 
42 LINCOLN S BIRTH 
 
 If man s poor justice to this shame is blind, 
 Bid love s pure wisdom, guarding still the door 
 And gates of life, through all these states restore 
 Our children s birthright ; bid love s justice find 
 Our nation s heart : call forth that sacred band, 
 That mighty host, the mothers of the land ! 
 
 Out from the love that bore you, through that voice, 
 Which in our mothers trembling souls awoke 
 A spark of quickening fire, your great heart spoke 
 Words that shall make all children to rejoice, 
 So long as we are faithful, and shall still 
 Your solemn spoken promises fulfil. 
 
 With smiling lips you gave us all your trust ; 
 
 From your sad eyes no shame of ours may hide : 
 
 For heavenly justice, lo, you lived, and died. 
 
 Now, under God, and by the sacred dust 
 Of those we mourn, help us to dedicate 
 Our lives to our dear land all consecrate ! 
 
WHEN CHAOS DWELT ON EARTH 43 
 
 WHEN CHAOS DWELT ON EARTH. 
 
 WHEN chaos dwelt on earth, a mighty god 
 Was born ; an infant god and blind. No gleam 
 Of light was there ; and darkly, as a dream, 
 Did life appear, and fearful shapes that trod 
 One on another down into the sod, 
 Whence others rose, a never-ending stream. 
 And still great Love is blind, and life doth seem 
 To come and go, while he, asleep, doth nod. 
 
 But lo ! that infant god who seemeth blind, 
 
 He only from vain dreaming shall awake 
 
 A wondering world. Oh, must we strive to break 
 
 These bonds, whereby our vision is confined, 
 
 Yet many weary years ; or simply take 
 
 The word ot Love for all that lies behind? 
 
44 TO THE GREAT GOD PAN 
 
 TO THE GREAT GOD PAN. 
 
 THOU ancient one of earth, thou god of all 
 
 Who breathe, hear thou our cry ! Upon this crust 
 
 Of crumbling earth we lie, as we were thrust, 
 
 All naked, forth. On thy dark world we fall ; 
 
 Around thine altar, infant-like, we crawl. 
 
 Come forth from out thy groves ! Surely, thou must ! 
 
 We cannot see ; our eyes are rilled with dust, 
 
 We hearken, trembling, for thine answering call. 
 
 We are but mortal, made of this bare mould 
 Whereon we live, and die, and make our moan ; 
 Which thou hast heard, and on thy pipes hast blown 
 Faint answering sounds ! Thy voice, now, as of old, 
 Though seeming but an echo of our own, 
 Remotest secrets of thy heart hath told. 
 
T<> HOMER 45 
 
 TO HOMER. 
 
 BLIND singer of the world s desire, 
 Thy world is ours. Thy song Troy town 
 Built, burned ; and then thy lyre 
 Burst in a blaze of fire 
 Seas shall not drown. 
 
 First kindled in a woman s eyes, 
 
 F ire burned high Troy ; and beckoned men 
 
 From home ; and from the skies 
 
 The gods. Those flames yet rise, 
 
 Year, now as then. 
 
 Yea, now as then, the world s desire. 
 Though hidden from us, still doth dwell 
 In Helen s heart of fire, 
 And breathes upon thy lyre 
 Her mighty spell. 
 
 Against new gods we wage our wars, 
 New cities build or burn with fire ; 
 And still, beneath the stars, 
 We beat against the bars 
 Of blind desire. 
 
46 TO HOMER 
 
 Our world is thine. New wars we wage 
 Under old skies. Our richest wine 
 Hath savour of thine age : 
 We write on life s last page ; 
 The book was thine. 
 
 Of life s brave book the leaves are turned, 
 And as we read we wonder how 
 Thy blinded eyes discerned 
 Life s hidden fires, that burned 
 Even then as now. 
 
 Oh thou who first, when earth was young, 
 Sangst fate defied and mortals slain, 
 Upon that honeyed tongue 
 How sweet thy songs, though sung 
 Of mortal pain ! 
 
 What songs have we thou dost not sing, 
 What fates thy heart hath not foretold? 
 Breathe thou the songs we bring ! 
 Bees on thy mouth still cling, 
 Now, as of old. 
 
THE SILENT HEART 47 
 
 THE SILENT HEART. 
 
 UPON what mortal lips this air hath stirred, 
 This air we breathe in laughter or with sighs, 
 In what immortal strains, or with what word 
 Of life, that dies not though the sweet song dies ! 
 Though the bright morning stars in the still skies 
 Stay their sweet singing, sphere answering sphere, 
 Hush ! from the world s deep heart doth ever rise 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 How long the stars for all the ages hurled 
 Silent through space, while yet no mortal tongue 
 Had told the secrets that the murmuring world 
 Whispered her many children, as they clung 
 Close to her bosom ! Ye whom fate hath flung 
 Prostrate upon the ground ! Oh ye with ear 
 Pressed close to earth, what music thence hath sprung ! 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 Beyond the sound of waters, when the sea 
 Beats with a ceaseless thunder on the shore ; 
 And, with unmeaning moan, eternally 
 The senseless passion of his life shall roar, 
 
 D 
 
48 THE SILENT HEART 
 
 Raging in froth and foam, and evermore 
 Make hollow sound ; hark, to the listening ear 
 Sweet siren voices on the wide air pour 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 Though these were songs no man might hear, and live, 
 What then ! Shall you, by fear of death deterred, 
 Seek death in life ! Oh ye, who dare to give 
 Life and the world, to catch one strain, unheard, 
 Of more than mortal music ; which hath stirred 
 Men s hearts, beyond life s hope, or death s dark fear ! 
 The world awaiteth still that magic word, 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 Ye who, with silent hearts, shall venture where 
 
 Those siren songs your very souls beguile, 
 
 Shall not that spell, flung on the breathless air 
 
 By lovely lips that sing and ever smile, 
 
 Be very breath of life ? Oh, reconcile 
 
 Your hearts to silence ! Your reward is near : 
 
 Though you be bound with burning thongs the while, 
 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 Ye who would know what many men have sought, 
 In vain, or finding, found therein but death, 
 Though you are bound with thongs that fate hath wrought 
 Yet be not mutinous ! Lo, every breath 
 
THE SILENT HEART 49 
 
 You breathe is life : whereof, what mortal saith 
 
 It is a burden, his harvest falleth, sere, 
 
 Ere it be ripe. And still life uttereth 
 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 Winter comes soon and swift the year grows old, 
 But ye whose hearts are still an hungering, 
 Who, sowing, reap not, but with love untold 
 Give all your treasure for love s offering ! 
 The very winds shall do your garnering : 
 And while our harvests perish with the year, 
 The seed you sow shall make another spring. 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 Ye who, desiring much, have given more ! 
 Lo, all your harvest, on the wide air sown, 
 The winds that scatter shall again restore, 
 An hundred fold ; yea, and to you alone 
 Shall be the secrets of the sweet earth known, 
 Borne on this air, far sounding, faint and clear, 
 In strains that Pan upon his pipes hath blown ; 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 Among the groves, and up the mountain, still 
 We follow, where you lead, with eager feet ; 
 Yet hear we naught, though Echo from the hill 
 Answer your hearts with music wondrous sweet. 
 
SO THE SILENT HEART 
 
 But you go far, till at the last you meet 
 The very soul of things ; as you draw near 
 The world s deep joy within your hearts shall beat. 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
 ENVOI. 
 
 YE who in silence suffer for love s gain, 
 And swift surrender what you buy so dear, 
 This is your gift, which princes seek in vain, 
 That song your silent hearts alone shall hear. 
 
TO F. T. 51 
 
 TO F. T. 
 
 How often, dear, since first our spirits met, 
 But still in vain, my hand has tried to trace 
 One living line of all the mystic grace 
 And beauty that is thine ! And I must, yet 
 Abide the time when I shall pay that debt 
 Which I have owed to time since thine embrace 
 First freed me from his hand, and in thy face 
 1 saw that light whose sun doth never set. 
 
 Blessed the day when first I caught just one 
 Dear look of thine, such as thy spirit fleet 
 Clothes thee withal, as with the golden glow 
 Of Love s far speeding but still constant sun. 
 I am borne onward ; till mine eyes shall greet 
 The whole wide vision that my heart doth know. 
 
THE LIFE SPIRIT 
 
 THE LIFE SPIRIT. 
 
 "And from the soul the body form doth take, 
 For soul is form and doth the body make." 
 
 " For earth that gives the milk the spirit gives." 
 
 WHOSE is the finger that gives form 
 
 To everything that lives ? 
 
 Whose mystic touch turns dark earth s dust 
 
 To Beauty s flesh and blood ? 
 
 Whose is the mind that made the Word 
 
 By which a thought may live, 
 
 Whose subtle breath shall make a child 
 
 The prophet of all time? 
 
 Whose is the hand that marks the hours 
 
 With the sharp knife of Time, 
 
 And with our lives doth measure out 
 
 The life of Time himself? 
 
 What is the force of awful change 
 
 That brings sweet Life to death, 
 
 And gently then, raising Death s veil, 
 
 Hints larger life within? 
 
 Thy scarce seen footsteps mark the path 
 
 To earth s own Paradise, 
 
THE LIFE SPIRIT 53 
 
 Thy heart-beat sounds the melody 
 And measure of Life s song ! 
 Still let me ever live to be 
 A servant at thy shrine, 
 Kissing the feet that lead me on, 
 The hand that bears the knife, 
 Till, with my head close to thy heart, 
 I catch the cadence deep, divine, 
 Of earth s immortal strain. 
 
54 OUT OF THE SOUTH 
 
 OUT OF THE SOUTH. 
 
 Out of the South 
 The singing bird 
 Flies North, 
 Seeking his mate. 
 
 Out of the mouth 
 The winged word 
 Flies forth, 
 Beseeching fate. 
 
 In some far land, 
 
 Unseen, unheard, 
 
 The silent bird 
 
 Sits brooding on her nest. 
 
 On some far strand, 
 Though seas may part 
 The silent heart 
 Broods upon love confessed. 
 
 The cold wind blows 
 Down from the North, 
 From the land of snows ; 
 The bird sings now as then. 
 
OUT OF THE SOUTH 55 
 
 But ah ! who knows 
 What word comes forth 
 From the land of woes, 
 Or when love comes again ! 
 
 Let be, let be ! 
 Across the sea, 
 With the dying year, 
 The bird comes a-singing, 
 
 Ever South, ever South ; 
 And she sings of her young that are fledged, 
 And her mate 
 That is fled ! 
 
 Though the heart bear no young, 
 Save the song that is sung, 
 Hear, oh, hear ! 
 The words that go winging 
 
 From mouth unto mouth, 
 The nurslings of love that were pledged 
 Against fate, 
 Are not dead. 
 
56 TO POETRY L 
 
 TO POETRY, 
 
 I. 
 
 The love I bore all these to thee I bring, 
 And with Love s harvest in my hand I wait, 
 Content to kneel beside the outer gate 
 Of thy dear shrine. And if thou, opening 
 The door, shouldst bid me follow thee, and fling 
 My little handful in, or soon or late, 
 Lo ! it is thine. To thee is consecrate 
 The last grain gleaned of love s own garnering. 
 
 Oh ! take the gift, and open wide the door : 
 Pierce me with all the magic of thine eyes, 
 And in mine ears thy deathless music pour ! 
 When this my heart within thy bosom lies, 
 But one small seed is added to thy store ; 
 And thy rose-garden fills the farthest skies ! 
 
TO POETRYI L 57 
 
 II. 
 
 AH ! hard it is to win thy meed of worth, 
 The consecration born of service true ! 
 The sweetest flower that e er thy garden knew 
 From Life s dark bed and bosom had its birth : 
 And who would serve thee well upon this earth 
 The inmost heart of the world s life must woo, 
 From Life s hot blood distilling purest dew, 
 Lest Love s bright arrows bring us woe and dearth. 
 
 I fain would serve thee well, with skill in craft 
 To send each arrow singing to its aim. 
 But, oh ! that some true breath of life may waft 
 My words in secret ways, unknown to fame, 
 So that to one warm heart some slender shaft 
 Bear its swift message from Life s central flame. 
 
58 TO POETRY III. 
 
 III. 
 
 CONDEMN me not that in my heart concealed 
 One mighty love lies hid ; nay, though thy wrath 
 Should stay my footsteps on thy garden path, 
 The seed that blows from summer s richest field 
 Springs where it falls : and so my heart must yield 
 Some scant sweet harvest for Life s aftermath ; 
 Top warm to wait the winter s cold, it hath, 
 Within thy walls, Love s living flower revealed. 
 
 Though buried deep beneath the winter snows 
 Love s plant may perish not, but still persists, 
 And through each seeming change of life must bring 
 Forth seed, and increase in its kind. So grows 
 The mystery more strange, while Love resists 
 The hand of fate, and summer follows spring. 
 
CLOSE, CLOSE MY HEART 59 
 
 CLOSE, CLOSE MY HEART. 
 
 CLOSE, close my heart within thy heart hath lain, 
 Some few brief days, some few sweet hours and brief. 
 What fear we then of fate, that black-winged thief? 
 Who feeds on lifeless seeds of scattered grain, 
 Dead hearts, that ne er have known love s burning pain 
 The birth of that new life, whose root and leaf 
 And flower and fruit are ours ; yea, ours the grief 
 Of fallen fruit, and tears that fall like rain. 
 
 Our souls, long severed, now shall never thirst. 
 
 Since from our hearts, that long in silence sobbed, 
 
 The very blood of love and life hath burst 
 
 In one pure stream. Ah love, fate hath not robbed 
 
 Us of love s fruit, and we are not accurst, 
 
 Since deep within thy heart my heart hath throbbed. 
 
60 LOVE THE GARDENER 
 
 LOVE THE GARDENER. 
 
 THY beauty was a bud of Love s true graft, 
 Flower-like of birth, as flooding all thy face 
 The quick blood rushed to meet his swift embrace, 
 When to thy heart, deep even to the haft 
 He sent his piercing blade. Oh, perfect craft ! 
 That grievous wound hath added further grace 
 To beauty s self ! And when he set that trace 
 Of tears in those deep eyes the great god laughed. 
 
 The heavenly gardener gazed into those eyes, 
 And in the look that lay there he hath known 
 His master touch, the life that is his own. 
 So, serving him, I too have looked where lies 
 Thy beauty s source, reaping, where Love hath sown, 
 The heavenly harvests from his wounds that rise. 
 
BV SOME LIGHT TOUCH 61 
 
 BY SOME LIGHT TOUCH. 
 
 BY some light touch it was of your 
 Strong, tender hands, and the strange lure 
 In those deep eyes, and by the sound 
 Of your sweet voice, that I was bound 
 As by some spell, both fast and sure. 
 
 But since my heart you close immure 
 Within the cloister of that pure 
 White breast, you heal me as you wound, 
 By some light touch. 
 
 And I would seek no other cure, 
 Nay, in that prison, I abjure 
 All freedom, since the way I found 
 To win thy love, and power to sound 
 Thy praise, in songs that may endure, 
 By some light touch. 
 
6a YOU WHISPERED, LOVE 
 
 YOU WHISPERED, LOVE. 
 
 You whispered, love, in just one word, 
 Secrets I long had passed unheard, 
 Faint breathed within your garden close 
 Far borne by each wild wind that blows, 
 While I lived on with hopes deferred. 
 
 Long years in this cold heart interred 
 Lay one deep mystery unstirred, 
 "As summer under winter s snow r s," 
 You whispered, love. 
 
 You breathed upon me, and I heard 
 The burden sung of Love s sweet bird ; 
 The secret of the budding rose 
 Was mine : the rest no mortal knows. 
 You whispered, "Love!" 
 
FOR YOU AND ME 63 
 
 FOR YOU AND ME. 
 
 FOR you and me a happy lot 
 
 Had been some little house, a plot 
 
 Of pleasant flowers, and a wall 
 
 Where vines should grow, and lizards crawl 
 
 When summer suns beat down full hot. 
 
 There had we lived, and never sought 
 To see beyond, and sighed for naught ; 
 No need of noble house nor hall 
 For you and me. 
 
 If now beyond or crib or cot 
 
 Our house be grown, sure, I know not 
 
 Why griefs should grow, or pleasures pall, 
 
 Because the roof-tree is so tall, 
 
 Or hearts become less warm, God wot, 
 
 F"or you and me ! 
 
64 LOVE S BLIND EYES 
 
 LOVE S BLIND EYES. 
 
 ALL ye who would be great and wise, 
 
 How many joys ye had not missed, 
 
 Had ye but seen with Love s blind eyes ! 
 
 But "joy possessed for ever flies!" 
 On such vile doctrines you insist, 
 All ye who would be great and wise. 
 
 Ye slay the hours as they arise ; 
 
 Cold are the lips ye should have kissed, 
 
 Had ye but seen with Love s blind eyes. 
 
 Slain by the spirit that denies, 
 
 Love leaves you blind indeed. Oh, list, 
 
 All ye who would be great and wise ! 
 
 When ways are dark and daylight dies, 
 Ye were not wand ring in the mist, 
 Had ye but seen with Love s blind eyes. 
 
 Your blindness lacks Love s swift surmise 
 Ye come too late to Life s high tryst, 
 All ye who would be great and wise, 
 Had ye but seen with Love s blind eyes. 
 
TO THE "MAIDEX" 65 
 
 TO THE "MAIDEN." 
 
 A Statue by George Gray Barnard. 
 
 WHAT hand ever made thee ! 
 Or what voice bade thee 
 
 Up from old earth to rise? 
 Where, till the night was gone. 
 Still waited for this dawn 
 
 Those dreaming eyes. 
 
 Deep in the darkness bound, 
 Sleeping beneath the ground, 
 
 Ages untold ; 
 While the slow ages passed, 
 
 Round with the wide earth rolled, 
 Darkly, alone, 
 
 Still with strong chains of stone 
 Wert thou held fast. 
 
 Say what strange mortal powers 
 
 Now have unbound thee ; 
 That upon earth at last 
 
66 TO THE "MAIDEN" 
 
 Here we have found thee, 
 Fairest of mortal flowers 
 From earth upspringing ! 
 
 Close, close unto earth 
 
 With soft hands clinging, 
 Tell us what secret birth 
 
 Brought and is bringing 
 Out of the dark of night 
 
 Up from the weight of years, 
 Thy flower-like body, white, 
 And to our eyes, these tears, 
 
 And to our hearts, delight ! 
 
 Oh, never wast thou flung 
 
 Down from the skies, 
 Or from some distant sphere. 
 But here, 
 
 Here upon earth, 
 
 Whence like a flower thou art sprung, 
 Thou hadst thy birth ! 
 
 Like the sap in the tree 
 
 As it stirs, 
 
 All her life is in thee, 
 And all secrets of hers 
 Become ours, 
 Like the flowers 
 That the summer hath brought. 
 
TO THE "MAIDEN" 67 
 
 For a mortal man sought 
 
 In her heart and his own, 
 And a mortal hand wrought 
 
 Thy fair body in stone, 
 Till a vision of infinite beauty 
 
 To our eyes hath been shown, 
 
 In the light of thy face, 
 And the passion of infinite power, 
 
 Which in earth hath its root, 
 
 Hath borne fruit 
 Of delight 
 
 In thy delicate grace. 
 
 Like a rose 
 
 But half budded, 
 
 Thy body is flooded 
 
 With life. Yea, the night 
 
 Now is gone, 
 And the light 
 
 Of the heavens at dawn 
 Through thine eyelids hath shone, 
 As they close 
 Like the leaves of the rose. 
 
 And the light that is thrown 
 
 O er thy body so pale 
 
 Is a magical veil ; 
 And through that strange mesh 
 
 Thy body of stone 
 
 Is all vvondrously grown 
 
68 TO THE "MAIDEN" 
 
 Unto flesh,- 
 
 And immortally human. 
 From thy prison 
 
 Of stone 
 Thou art risen, 
 As a seed that was sown, 
 As a maid become woman ! 
 
VENUS V1CTRIX 69 
 
 VENUS VICTRIX. 
 
 WHEN many years arc gone of drought and dearth, 
 
 Shalt thou not struggle to the light again 
 
 From forth our mighty mother s breast? And when, 
 
 Lying like us upon the lap of earth, 
 
 We know thee daughter of our common birth, 
 
 But beautiful, and free, how shall we then 
 
 Still fear that chain, by which thou bindest men, 
 
 Thy girdle woven of all woe and mirth ? 
 
 And when from out thine opening eyes doth peer 
 The wonder of all life, and through thy form 
 Surgeth the sea of earthly passions storm, 
 Then shalt thou draw us to thy heart full near ; 
 No shame of ours thy beauty shall deform, 
 And we, bound in thy toils, shall hold them dear. 
 
TO "THE VENUS OF MILO" 
 
 TO "THE VENUS OF MILO." 
 (VENUS GENETRIX). 
 
 WE dare not hope to reach thy lofty place, 
 Nor with dark Fate to be quite reconciled. 
 Thy seeming sightless eyes, benignly mild 
 As of the early gods, or of some race 
 Of men almost divine, look into space 
 Beyond our mortal vision ; with no*wild, 
 Swift passion torn, so hast thou ever smiled, 
 Great love, immortal, lighting thy calm face. 
 
 Born of the womb of earth, who doth beguile 
 Both gods and men to woo her, for all time 
 Thou art a thing of worship. Ah, sublime 
 Mother of men ! We may not reconcile 
 The darkness with the dream ; yet still we climb 
 The starlit heights to win thy sacred smile. 
 
THE EARTH SONG 
 
 THE EARTH SONG. 
 
 EARTH sings her song ; wherein, if any sound 
 Of seeming discord dwells, tis thus life shows 
 The imperfection of each thing that grows. 
 The sweetest fruit in all earth s garden found 
 Was bitter once. Born from the blackest ground, 
 And blooming on her thorny tree, the rose, 
 The fairest flower that in the garden blows, 
 Bears a sweet balm to heal life s deepest wound. 
 
 Though weary be our toil, our wanderings long, 
 At last, concealed within life s fallen fruit, 
 May fall some fertile seed, whereof shall shoot 
 Life s healing flower, to make our faint hearts strong. 
 The sweetest herbs have oft a bitter root, 
 And out of grief shall rise our sweetest song. 
 
72 TO ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
 
 TO ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 
 THOU spirit strong, who late in English ships 
 Didst bear our English tongue to the last reach 
 Of this world s farthest sea, thou hast for each 
 Live man of us pushed back the line where slips 
 This self into the dark, as the sun dips 
 Into the sea ; and set on that far beach 
 A brave new standard for our English speech : 
 Or sounds the old so new upon thy lips ? 
 
 Like men of old, deep hast thou gazed within 
 
 Thy soul ; aye ! deep within that fatal urn 
 
 Where souls of men are made, where toss and spin 
 
 The leaves of destiny. Yet thine eyes turn 
 
 To us at last as with a child s calm gaze ; 
 
 And little children wait on all thy ways. 
 
IN MEMORIAM 73 
 
 IN MEMORIAM. 
 
 ROBERT Louis STEVENSON 
 (The Light-House Builders Son.) 
 
 BEHOLD ! a tower of light ! where stood before 
 The flickering flame that led our fathers home. 
 Then shall there be, upon the sea, no more 
 Of faith in heaven s tires ; shall froth and foam 
 And misty cloud for ever from our sight 
 Conceal the stars and hide their heavenly light? 
 
 Born of the blood of them who builded higher 
 The house of light upon the homeward shore, 
 Comes one with eyes far fixed upon that fire 
 Which beckons ever on the deep ; once more 
 On seas unknown we sail, while he beguiles 
 Our hearts with words of new-found fairy isles. 
 
 And so with him upon the sea s bright strand, 
 Forgetful of the tide and of the wave, 
 Like children there we builded on the sand 
 Our cherished treasure houses. Ah ! how brave 
 That heart ! As with the courage of a child 
 He led us on, and all our hearts beguiled. 
 
74 IN MEMORIAM 
 
 He takes us boldly past the harbor bar, 
 
 And floating through the reefs and round the shoals, 
 
 He shows us where the wrecks of winter are, 
 
 All through the summer seas ; and where men s souls 
 
 Lie wrecked, he steers straight on, through darkest night 
 
 And starless skies, led by an inward light. 
 
 No wandering fire he follows. Nay ! that heart 
 Turns like a compass to life s constant source. 
 Though danger threaten us on every part, 
 And sun and stars should fail, the secret force, 
 That fills the world with light and life and love, 
 Holds true his heart, which tempests may not move. 
 
 Fate s wheel, just touched, moves hidden chains that rule 
 
 The lives of men ! Our captain owns no whip 
 
 But strength in gentleness. If some poor fool 
 
 Be rashly mutinous, as on our ship, 
 
 Alas ! so many are, each foolish heart 
 
 He chides, unrolling wide life s fateful chart. 
 
 Gladly we give him service. Let us keep 
 
 This last long watch with him ! The night is come, 
 
 The sails are set upon an unknown deep. 
 
 That light which led us outward from the home 
 
 Our fathers made he ne er may see again : 
 
 But he hath set new fires within the hearts of men ! 
 
IN MEMORIAM 75 
 
 Well may we bear him tribute. Golden sails 
 Take forth our treasure to the sunset sea. 
 The strong sweet wind that swells them never fails, 
 And with a braver faith, our hearts shall be 
 Upborne by that pure breath which in his words 
 Still lives, as on great seawinds soar the gray-winged 
 birds. 
 
76 TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE 
 
 TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE. 
 
 You sing to us the song of steam, 
 And true romance ; our world is yours : 
 You draw things as they seem ; 
 What know we if the dream 
 Dies or endures ? 
 
 You set forth with the rising sun, 
 
 And watched your brothers as they wrought ; 
 
 So they may read who run, 
 
 You told of work well done, 
 
 Battles well fought. 
 
 On every little thing and dear 
 You set the mark of true romance : 
 And wondrous true and clear 
 The forms of things appear 
 To your quick glance. 
 
 Out of the sunrise in the East 
 
 You came and made our dreams come true ; 
 
 And made us, great and least, 
 
 Each man and boy, and beast, 
 
 All friends to you. 
 
TO A LAV RE AT R OF EMPIRE 77 
 
 We lived those dreams you made so real, 
 Those songs of yours we long- had sung : 
 Our very hearts you steal ; 
 What then ! You made us feel 
 The world is young. 
 
 The world is young. You found it out 
 While others swore twas sick and cold ; 
 Our faith no man shall flout ; 
 The things we care about 
 Are never old ! 
 
 Then, in old jars you poured new wine ! 
 Though it was strong, we did not shrink, 
 Unto our royal line, 
 And all our rights divine, 
 Long life to drink. 
 
 We dreamed the world was ours ; that draught 
 Swift made it so as in our vision. 
 The cup of blood we quaffed, 
 And at the whole world laughed 
 With wild derision. 
 
 The Lord of Hosts was with us still ; 
 Let pagans worship wandering Pan ; 
 So we, by His good will 
 The heathen slew ; we kill 
 For the Great Plan ! 
 
78 TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE 
 
 We bade them turn and kiss the rod, 
 Forget their passion and their panic, 
 Forget they were down trod : 
 Nor see in our great God 
 A Thing mechanic. 
 
 Were your romance then but a mist 
 To veil from us God s law and love, 
 Twere better you had missed 
 The mark ; nay, in the list 
 Ne er thrown your glove. 
 
 Oh, better had our hands but shook, 
 
 And spilled the wine ! Not now with laughter, 
 
 But through our tears we look, 
 
 Deep, deep within Life s book, 
 
 Before and after. 
 
 Think you we have not understood 
 The spirit of your spoken word? 
 We know the wine is good : 
 Being our very blood, 
 That you so stirred. 
 
 The wine is pure : but in the jar 
 Were left the old wine s bitter lees, 
 Whose bitterness shall mar 
 The vintage new, while war 
 Still taints the seas. 
 
TO A LAUREATE OF EMPIRE 79 
 
 O that our war at last may cease ! 
 That we may find new bottles then, 
 Wherein the years of peace 
 Shall pour the Earth s increase 
 Of joy for men ! 
 
 You praise our work : why then we ll pray 
 For power to make, and better mould, 
 New jars of sweet earth s clay, 
 Those others put away, 
 Men made of old. 
 
So FULFILMENT 
 
 FULFILMENT. 
 
 THOU living God ! We know Thou art 
 Within each truly humble heart : 
 We know Thou dost not dwell apart 
 
 From perfect Love. Thy great love hath 
 Shown us Thy wisdom s better path ; 
 How shall we hope to stay Thy wrath ! 
 
 Thy fear hath shaken hands that reek 
 With brother s blood, and still would seek 
 To hold their birthright from the meek. 
 
 \Vhat ! are we for ever fated 
 On a dying world belated, 
 Still to hate as we are hated ? 
 
 Are we still our brother selling 
 
 To the death? Shall love s upwelling 
 
 Soul still find no earthly dwelling? 
 
FULFILMENT 81 
 
 Hast Thou our brother s pleading heard, 
 Since in our hearts the ancient word 
 Of sacrifice hath once more stirred ? 
 
 Once more to us a voice is sent, 
 Crying from out the wild, "Repent! 
 44 Repent ! and evermore * Repent ! " 
 
 Ah ! to repent were but remorse, 
 Without Thy Love. A water course 
 May rise no higher than its source. 
 
 We know Thou gavest length of days, 
 
 Freedom to walk along the ways 
 
 Of Thine own love and for Thy praise. 
 
 We know, O Lord, the passing hours 
 Thine angels are, with awful powers 
 To make Thy life at one with ours. 
 
 Then spare us, Lord ! if through the din 
 Of wasteful wars we fail to win 
 The way Thy wisdom leads us in. 
 
 Without Thy law of Love, Oh God ! 
 Well may we bend beneath the rod, 
 Yea ! bow our foreheads to the sod. 
 
 Ye sons of Abraham s true seed, 
 Beware ! the boast of blood and breed 
 Shall fail you in your utmost need. 
 
82 FULFILMENT 
 
 Up from these very stones shall rise 
 True sons of God. Beneath these skies 
 There is one law, one sacrifice ! 
 
 Hath He been offered up in vain, 
 That Holy One ? Or was He slain 
 Indeed ? Shall Christ not come again ? 
 
 Have we forgot? Shall we forget 
 His law of love? Oh ! live we yet 
 Under the law of blood and sweat? 
 
 Thou God of Love ! Be with us still ! 
 Maker of worlds ! Make Thou our will 
 At one with Thine. Thy law fulfil ! 
 
A FRAGMENT 83 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 OUT from the garden where the birds still sing, 
 Where beauty dwells among the budding roses 
 And nodding poppy flowers that swiftly bring 
 Their sleep upon us when the bright day closes 
 I am called forth. As in a dream I go 
 To join that host who on the river s brink 
 Worship the sacred stream. I may not know 
 What measure is for me ; nor shall I shrink. 
 I fall upon the shore, and with my hand 
 Make me a cup, and dip it in and drink 
 To quench this burning thirst. Now on the strand, 
 With steadfast gaze bent on that sacred stream, 
 Comes one who holds a glass, wherefrom white sand 
 And black commingled runs, whose dull grains seem 
 Like falling seeds, to quicken with the birth 
 Of coming life ; and now it is no dream ! 
 For this grey sand, mixed with the moist sweet earth 
 That banks the river up, brings forth rare flowers, 
 And far along the shore, where all was dearth, 
 A garden blooms : and fresh as morning hours 
 And young as youth, goes forth upon the grass 
 That shining one, who pours unceasing showers 
 Of sand, both white and black, from a full glass ; 
 Whose name is Time. 
 
S 4 TIME 
 
 TIME. 
 
 TIME is the mighty master of us all : 
 
 Upon his coining and his going wait 
 
 Love, and swift death, and day and night, and fate. 
 
 Princes and flowers before his sickle fall, 
 
 Who round kings gardens made a prison wall ; 
 
 Beggars by him are brought to high estate ; 
 
 And his alone the skill to modulate 
 
 Life s broken stops to measures musical. 
 
 O, love ! Though we may never hear the sweet, 
 
 Full, final, perfect chord, yet this strange gift 
 
 Is ours ; even in one moment s breathless, swift, 
 
 Heart-breaking pause, to catch the throb and beat 
 
 Of that immortal strain, which shall uplift, 
 
 Through Time s long years, tired mortals weary feet. 
 
WITH BURNING HEARTS 8s 
 
 WITH BURNING HEARTS. 
 
 WITH burning hearts for ever we aspire 
 
 To pour love s precious metal, like pure gold, 
 
 Within the lips of life s immortal mould. 
 
 And though our hands have shaken with desire, 
 
 And spilled some drops, and failed to make entire 
 
 The perfect image ; even so, behold, 
 
 We are Life s artisans ! The world were cold 
 
 But that our hearts have burned with such a fire. 
 
 And since for beauty s sake my soul hath burned, 
 Though I the perfect mould may never fill, 
 Yet shall I feed that fire, with fire, until, 
 When the great master s hand hath overturned 
 The clay, perchance in these poor drops I spill 
 Shall be my hope ; and I may not be spurned. 
 
86 WHEN GOD WAS NEAR 
 
 WHEN GOD WAS NEAR. 
 
 LOVE, the great Giver, when on earth 
 Some woman, midst the pangs of birth, 
 
 First felt his joyous power, 
 
 Gave her the two-fold dower, 
 Of grief, and mirth. 
 
 Through the fierce hunter-father rushed 
 What joy, as first she smiled, and flushed 
 
 Red as that fire she kept ! 
 
 What fear came, when she wept, 
 To hold him hushed ! 
 
 What strange new power now held him bound, 
 Whose strength was ever girt around 
 
 With shadowy forms that rose 
 
 In dreams, and with dark foes 
 Born of the ground ! 
 
 With shapes of fear he learned to fill 
 The woods and caves of earth, until 
 
 Each rock and tree became 
 
 A spirit, and a Name 
 Of good or ill. 
 
WHEN GOD WAS NEAR 87 
 
 What nameless Presence, shining, bright, 
 Stood for a moment in his sight, 
 
 When first that mother smiled 
 
 And wept ; and round the child 
 Shone a great light ! 
 
 Lo, when that woman felt the sheer 
 Joy of Love s new-born life, the tear 
 
 That came into her eyes 
 
 Was Love s first sacrifice : 
 The God stood near. 
 
 The God who, born before dear earth, 
 Our mother, through fierce pangs of birth, 
 
 Brought forth hope s brighter flower, 
 
 Gave her that double dower 
 Of grief and mirth ; 
 
 When Zeus, who knew not woe, was dead, 
 And Phoebus from the mountain fled, 
 
 Out of men s growing fears, 
 
 By the salt stream of tears 
 That woman shed, 
 
 He made new life leap from the sod, 
 And woke the buds on Joseph s rod, 
 
 And with wild Orphic lays 
 
 Led men unto the ways 
 That Jesus trod. 
 
 G 
 
88 WHEN GOD WAS NEAR 
 
 He who made life made life divine, 
 And tipped with holy fire the pine 
 
 Which from the darkest eld 
 
 Great Dionysus held : 
 
 In whose dark shrine 
 
 That fire of human hope once burned, 
 Which came to earth in One who turned 
 The water into wine, 
 Who blessed the growing vine ; 
 And never spurned 
 
 That woman who had overmuch 
 Loved, for the hearts of even such, 
 
 When at His feet they knelt 
 
 In love s true faith, first felt 
 His healing touch ; 
 
 Who to the little children said 
 
 4 * Come unto me"; whose word shall spread 
 Wider than home or hearth, 
 Through all the fertile earth 
 On Love s wings sped. 
 
 He lived to bear the cold world s scorn, 
 And brought new life to them that mourn, 
 
 And, to the weary, rest ; 
 
 Him, on a woman s breast, 
 Her love had borne. 
 
WHEN GOD WAS NEAR 89 
 
 And where her hands in life s deep urn 
 
 First caught those fires that smouldering burn, 
 
 Through all the long, dim years, 
 
 Amidst men s ancient tears, 
 We might discern 
 
 A temple rising, radiant, free 
 Unto the earth, and sky, and sea, 
 
 For all to enter where 
 
 Dwells in the open air 
 That Deity, 
 
 That Spirit, which still wandereth 
 
 Up through the gates of life and death, 
 
 Lighting the ways of men 
 
 A little time, and then 
 
 Gone, like a breath ; 
 
 Which, ever wandering like the wind, 
 Our feet still follow, till we find, 
 
 Almost beyond our reach, 
 
 A wonder, in men s speech, 
 A word, enshrined 
 
 In women s hearts ; a deathless spark 
 Of Love s pure light, which yet shall mark 
 The way the world must turn, 
 Though the great Sun should burn 
 Out, in the dark. 
 
90 NOTES TO " PAESTUM" 
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1 biferique rosaria Paesti." Virgil " Georgics." 
 
 2 We do the same as the men of Poseidenia, who dwell on the Tyr 
 rhenian Gulf. It befell them, having- been at first true Hellenes, to be 
 utterly barbarised, changing- to Tyrrhenes or Romans, and altering- their 
 language, together with other customs. Yet they still observe one 
 Hellenic festival, when they meet together and call to remembrance 
 their old names and bygone institutions ; and having lamented one to 
 the other, and shed bitter tears, they afterwards depart to their own 
 homes. 
 
 Even thus a few of us also, now that our theatres have been barbar 
 ised, and this art of music has gone to ruin and vulgarity, meet together 
 and remember what once music was. Aristoxenus of Tarentiim. 
 
a 
 
 Thaw, Alexs 
 
 ader B. 
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