The Sphinx and Other Poems William Henry Hudson THE JAMES K. MOFFITT FUND. LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. GIFT OF JAMES KENNEDY MOFFITT OF THE CLASS OF 86. , 189 . Accession No. 82594 class No. 9&5L HSffe THE SPHINX AND OTHER POEMS THE SPHINX AND OTHER POEMS BY WILLIAM HENRY HUDSON ELDER & SHEPARD SAN FRANCISCO 1900 Copyright, IQOO, by William Henry Hudson Edition limited to joo copies printed from type and type distributed The Murdoch Press TO MY WIFE BORN OF THE HEART, TO WHOM SHOULD IT BELONG, MY LITTLE BOOK OF SONG, SAVE UNTO HER WHO HOLDS MY HEART IN FEE ? POOR THOUGH THE GIFT MAY BE, THE GIVER, TOO, IS THINE. LOVE, FOR LOVE*S SAKE, THIS SLENDER OFFERING TAKE ! WHTI 82594 Contents DEDICATION *gt 5 THE SPHINX I I ACHIEVEMENT 1 5 IN THE PLAZA, SANTA BARBARA 1 6 OUTLOOK 1 8 ORACLES 2O THE QUEST 22 LIMITATIONS 30 A CONTRAST 3! BY THE SHORE 32 THE LAND BEYOND THE WEST 33 UNAWARES 3 5 METHUSELAH 40 THRENODY 4.2 APPEARANCES 44 THE BROTHERS 45 QUATRAINS THE PLAY 55 BREEZE AND GALE 55 LANCELOT AND ELAINE 55 THE BUILDING 55 PAST AND PRESENT 56 MARY S CRY 56 TO TENNYSON 56 56 Contents QUATRAINS REALISM Page 57 TO ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 57 IRONY 57 "THE COMPLEAT ANGLER" 57 THE LIFTED VEIL 58 AT EARLY MORN 58 TO A SCIENTIFIC FRIEND 58 CRISIS 58 THE SEPULCHRE 59 FROM THE SABINE FARM 59 CARPE DIEM 59 The Sphinx and other Poems THE SPHINX V -, HAD a dream in the night. I Waking, how strange it seem d! If I recall it aright, This is the dream I dream* d. I know not how or why, But I walk d in the desert alone; And ever the wind went by With a moan like a human moan. Darkness hung o er the world, Only I noticed soon A banner of cloud unfurl* d Over a phantom moon. And I wist not whence I came, Nor whither my footsteps sped, In that land without a name, That country of the dead. Then, sudden, a moonbeam burst Over the dismal place, And I saw, as one accurs d, The Sphinx s great stone face; Where cold, austere, sublime, Since first the ages ran, She watches the flight of time And the tragedy of man. The Sphinx Then by quick impulse quell d, I fell upon the sands, And high in the dark upheld My clasp d beseeching hands : "Goddess! lone, sedate, Of the calm, remorseless eye, Crown d Queen of mortal fate Till the last of things shall die ! "Darkness engirts thy throne; Silence keeps ward the while. Is that, on thy lips of stone, The flicker of a smile ? "Dumb, while the long years speed - Dumb, while the ages go, Thy riddle still to read, Thy secret still to know. " Shall the prayers of men be vain ? As naught shall their pleadings be ? Struggle of heart and brain, And speechless agony ? " Pity our mortal state, By ceaseless longings stirr d! See how we stand and wait For the voice that is not heard. 12 " Listen to this my cry, The Sphinx Which the empty silence drinks; O whence, and whither, and why ? Listen, and answer, Sphinx!" Was that a voice from the sands That leagues about me spread ? From the dim untrodden lands Of the unborn and the dead ? Did it out of the earth arise From the charnels and the shrouds ? Did it drop from the heavy skies With the moonbeams through the clouds ? T was the Sphinx herself that spoke; I knew her voice full well; And with her words she broke The immemorial spell : " Would st thou seek the veil to rend From the uttermost sense of things ? Would st thou know the beginning and end? Sources and hidden springs ? Would st thou con the cryptic lore Of the unturn d page of life ? Would st thou pierce to the central core Of the passion and the strife ? Thf Sphinx < O, wise in thine own conceit, Who think st there is aught to find! Behold, the ways of thy feet Are but as the ways of the wind! "For beyond the limits of space, What is there, but space again ? Look well upon my face! Dost thou ask, Shall my prayers be vain ? "From the silence that I hold Thou would* st my meaning tear? My riddle would* st unfold, And lay my secret bare ? Fool! thrice fool indeed! Back to thy folly go! Riddle ? There s none to read! Secret ? There s none to know ! She ceased; and a vapour curl d Over the face of the sky; And behold no Sphinx no world Nothing not even I! If I recall it aright, This is the dream I dream d. It did not seem strange in the night. Waking, how strange it seemed! ACHIEVEMENT I TOIL D all day in sun and shade, Through the long hours I toil d and wrought; And when the day was done, I thought Of patience shown, of progress made. It filTd my heart with high content To measure my accomplishment. I stood beneath the starry sky; I felt the hush d night s cooling balm. There spoke a voice across the calm In accents of eternity. " O fool!" I thought I heard it say What is it thou hast done to-day ? " IN THE PLAZA, SANTA BARBARA WAS ever day more heavenly-fair than this ? More perfect in the subtly-woven charm Of gracious beauty ? Blue, without a cloud, The sky o erspans the blue unruffled sea; The long line of the mountains melts away Into the haze, as dreams will merge in dreams; And the breeze comes in little tender puffs, Balmy, and soft, and sweet, as if it blew From lotus-islands in far summer seas. Surely, for once, the stormiest heart might find Rest; the sick brain surcease of all its woes. Surely, for once, I too might be content To live to-day just for the day itself; Bask in this sun, breathe deep this genial air, Drink to my fill of mountain, sky, and sea, Asking no questions, seeking naught beyond This scene, this hour, this present and its bliss; Else Paradise itself must prove a snare, And mock us with possession! Yet, tis strange: As my eye wanders round the coast, and dwells On Santa Rosa, blue against the blue, Mountain and sky and sea no more belong To this, my actual world, but shape themselves Into the vision of another day Divine as this, by fair Sorrento s shore; And, in a trance of memory, I o erlive 16 Those dreamy hours beside the storied bay In the Plaza O er which, as sentinel, Vesuvius Santa Keeps watch and ward. Thus does the present call The dead past into life again, and blend Its deepest pleasure with the poignant sense Of other happiness in vanish d years. And stranger still, the charm dissolves, to bring Only another stirring of the heart Like that I knew in boyhood; and, behold! Sky, sea, and mountain shape themselves anew; And now I loiter on untrodden strands And hear the wash of undiscover d seas! O Life, Life, Life ! Must it be always thus ? Will not the hour that is ever suffice ? Will not its beauty ever satisfy The hunger and the thirsting of the soul ? And must the best and sweetest touch of all The finest essence of felicity The inner thrill which lifts the earthly mood To kinship with a joy beyond itself Be half regret for that which is no more, Half yearning for the things which may not be ? O Life, Life, Life ! must it be always thus ? - ^ TH* VERSITY OUTLOOK PERCH D high, with narrow walls to hem me in, Amid the city s din, I often study with attentive eye Yon little patch of sky. My little patch of sky I call the same, And do not count it blame; Others may have the wide-spread firmament, And therewith discontent. But this one bit of heaven, this glimpse divine, Is now and always mine; By day my solace, and when day is done My nightly benison. For every time I lift my head, it brings Whispers of far-off things, And a great flood of joy that passes ken Fills my whole being then. When all is blue in my small patch, I say It will be fair to-day; When the clouds gather o er its face again I dread the coming rain. And sometimes in the watches of the night The slow stars wheel in sight; Or the round moon, as in the Wonderbook, Pauses awhile to look. 18 I do not miss the great world s pageantry Outlook Of forest, field, and sea, While I can have to love and live with, my Own little patch of sky. ORACLES I TAKE my question to the sea, And ask it there. The loud waves echo fitfully My own despair. The deep voice of the forest swells In thunder-tone. Alas, the story that it tells Is but my own! I sound the silent midnight sky, And, wearying not, I wait expectant for reply. It answers what ? Methinks, the oracles give word To my demand. Their speech I strive in vain, though heard, To understand. What boots the message or the voice, The secret wrung ? While the dark Priestess still employs An unknown tongue ? Could I but turn to mine own heart, And find some key To help me to spell out in part The mystery! 20 But can I trust it as I would Oracles With truth to bless ? Will it translate in certitude ? Or only guess ? Ah, I have known the hour benign Of inward rest, When something spoke with voice divine Within the breast. And when I bent the listening ear, Twas not in vain; The accents were familiar, The meaning plain. Then, oh the thrill of joy that leapt Along the sea! A solemn song of gladness swept From tree to tree! The night was beautiful above As ne er before! I thought the oracles said "Love"; And ask d no more. 21 THE QUEST I IT was a vision nay, no idle dream Which, bubble-like, breaks ere the break of dawn, To be henceforth forgotten: no wild dream, But a celestial vision and a sign. That bending face was soft and beautiful Even beyond a youth s imaginings Of soft and beautiful in womanhood. And in those wistful eyes there lay the light Of love, which asks only for love s return. When he awoke, alas! the vision, fled, Left naught to his embrace but empty air. Yet memory held the magic of her words : " Lo, in a dream I come to proffer thee My love, and as a dream, I fade away. But be thou worthy of my proffer d love, And thou shalt find me no light thing of dreams, No unsubstantial figment of the brain By fancy bred beneath the lids of sleep. Dost thou love me ? I may be woo d and won ! Follow and seek ! Find me, and I am thine ! As one who walks a city street at noon, And, mid the rush and din of busy life, Is haunted by a snatch of melody Heard when and where he knows not, but which brings A far-off hint of sunshine and the fields; 22 So was the youth haunted by those sweet words The Quest When daylight snapt the visionary spell. " Follow and seek! Find me, and I am thine! " O promise of an unsuspected bliss! No marvel that his heart was stirr d, his blood Set all a-flame; that the world s common things Look d, by the contrast of that radiant face, The light of love deep in those wistful eyes, Beyond their wont tawdry and mean and dull! Awhile he walk d as though on summer air, Buoy d by the thought of his high destiny, The love he was appointed to requite, And her, who to himself herself had given For seeking and for finding. Then, alas! The chill of doubt shot sudden through his veins, And blank despair usurp d the place of joy. " Follow and seek! Find me, and I am thine! " O fair delusive hope encouragement With bitter disappointment fraught, and pain Of ail-too certain failure! Seek and find ? What empty words were these, which gave no clue, And left the wide world open! Had she told Her dwelling-place had she but riddle- wise, By mystic hint or half-breathed syllable, Pointed the way by which the quest were won He had not falter d. His the quest had been, Yea, though to reach her he were forced to pass Through fire and storm, o er mountains lock d in snow, Across unmeasured seas and trackless sands. The Quest But who shall answer to a phantom voice That calls to us we know not whence ? or heed The uncertain beckoning of a ghostly hand That leaves us doubting to which side to turn ? So by the sweet face haunted still, his ears Still by the music of the voice caress d, The youth was torn by strife within himself; And for a while, a traitor to his hopes, Letting the fear of failure, and weak sloth, And nerveless apathy o ermaster him, He shut the vision from him, and crush d down The promptings it had stirr d within his soul. What folly to give thought to that which still For all its beauty was but a mere dream ! Should he for this wear out his fresh young life, Torture himself with unavailing toils, And like a starveling simpleton forego Delight of youth, and genial fellowship, Ease, and the tender love of other maids ? What warrant had he that, if dreams spake true, The quest achiev d should crown the sacrifice ? Life must not wait on dreams. So Reason spake, Or what seem d Reason; and the youth lent ear. But only for a time. One wistful face Came back to him in all its loveliness By night and day; one low, appealing voice By night and day set all his soul a-thrill " Follow and seek! Find me, and I am thine! " And at the last he yielded to the charm. Courage was his, and the high faith of youth 24 That though to fail were easy, and to win The Quest Well-nigh impossible, he would not fail, But win. And in this ardent mood he rose; Made ready for the difficult emprise; Threw one last look towards his childhood s home, Bidding in thought farewell to all the joys Of hearth and field, to boon companions, And maidens who had woo d him with their smiles; And thus self-consecrated to the pure Sweet service of a visionary love, Went forth undaunted on his lonely way. II So the long years went by, and with them brought What the long years bring ever joy and pain; Life, Death; the growing cold of many fires; Hopes, and the fading out of many hopes; Tears, and the drying up of many tears. So the long years went by; with sowing-time And harvest; and the men who sow d and reap d In turn were reap d, and others till d their fields. But for the youth who set him forth that day On his high quest him brought they not again ; And his familiar place knew him no more Whether by summer brook or winter hearth. Though old men fumbling in their memories woke At times some dim remembrance of his name, .Each asking each "Who was he ? Dost thou mind His face or stature ? Wherefore went he forth ? The Quest And what to find ?" One after one were these Gathered to rest. So dull oblivion grew, Like moss about the headstone of a grave, Blotting all record of his name and life. At last, one autumn eve, when the huge sun, Fierce red athwart the smoke of burning leaves, Hung for a moment o er the western hills, And in strong flight the clamorous rooks wheel d home; Came from the world beyond those western hills A bow d and white-hair d man, for whom henceforth Life could hold naught but death. With tottering steps And frequent pause, he crept along the way That downward to the hamlet led; and there, Upon a settle neath the churchyard yew, With deep-drawn sigh he sank, as one who knows The term is reach d of his long pilgrimage. The children play d near by, and heeded not The stranger s coming; for he mov d by stealth And spake not, watching them the children, they, Of unborn children in that shadowy past Far-off, when he had romp d, as now they rompM, In guileless sport among their fathers graves. Then the slow twilight gather d close about him; The bell toll d curfew; the loud laughter ceas d; And he was left alone. 26 Was this the end ? The Quest The sum of all the heart-ache and the toil, Passionate strivings, faintings by the way, Hopes sown at random on each passing wind, Laborious days, and nights devoid of ease ? In the extremity of that sad hour He saw the grim vast folly of his life, The mad delusion that had wreck d it all, When he had taken as a thing divine The phantom of a boy s disorder d brain Love-sick for idleness and vague desire. O fool ! to chase a shadow, but to win Only a fool s well-merited reward That wisdom of experience which comes Too late to be of service, and condemns When it is impotent to guide. Fool ! Fool ! One purpose still he cherish d to lie down Beneath the roof where first the vision came, And there, amid a thousand memories That even in the fierceness of his heart He held for dear, await that blessed hour Which soon must bring what now alone he crav d Death and the peace thereof. He rose. The sky Throbb d with unnumber d stars. The hamlet slept About him, as he stole, poor weary ghost! Through the familiar ways. And now he reach d The cottage of his youth; with trembling hand Push d wide the door, and enter d. All was dark, Save that upon the hearth a tiny fire Burn d red. And, lo! beside the tiny fire 27 The Quest There sat a woman crouch d. His failing heart Gave one wild leap. Slowly she rais d her head. No phantom, she, no shadow; but as fair, As young and fair as when, in dreams, she came To bid him seek her, aye, and finding, win. For that dear face was soft and beautiful Beyond an old man s fondest memory Of soft and beautiful in womanhood. And in those wistful eyes still lay the light Of love, which asks only for love s return. "I have search d for thee through the wide world," he said; "I have given my life in quest of thee. Behold, Now that my strength is spent, and death is near, Hither I come to lay my bones in peace Where once was home. This much is left no more. Where hast thou been that I have found thee not ? And wherefore did st thou come to me, and stir My longing for thee with delusive hopes, That in the hour of frenzy, heeding thee, Believing in thy promise and thy faith, I set my face towards thee, and my back To all that in the day of budding youth Life has to offer ? Pleasant then was life, And rich its prizes. These I held as naught For thee, O fickle and heartless one! and thou Hast made of me thy dupe ! " 28 In bitterness The Quest He spake; and sadly did she make reply: "Why did st thou then go forth in quest of me ? By thine own hearth, year after year, have I Waited for thee; and still thou did st not come By thine own hearth waited and watch* d; and mused In the long vigils, Nay, he will return And find me here, and I will welcome him, And evermore our lives shall be as one. He bow d his head in speechless agony Awhile. Then sudden, his thin arms outstretch d, He stagger d towards her, with a feverish gleam Flashing from his dim eyes. "But thou art mine, Now, at the last," he cried. "Mock me no more! The quest is won! I have found thee! Thou art mine!" " Too late," she said. She spake as in reproof, Yet pity fill d her voice with tenderness; "Too late! Too late!" and faded from his sight. And by the lonely hearth he sat, and wept. LIMITATIONS COULD we grasp Life in all its stark and stern Reality, How could we live ? Or, living, whither turn For remedy ? Not to ourselves dare we in silence breathe What things are done, Making each day s dark history, beneath The punctual sun! Tis well we cannot see them all-compact, Or we might fall, Brain-dazed, heart-sick, before the awful Fact, Blaspheming all That Love has dream d of Faith, and Faith has sought In Love to find. So were the larger vision dearly bought! The gods are kind. They laid their limits on our mortal powers; And, this confess d, To live our life as best we may is ours Be theirs the rest! 30 A CONTRAST BELOW the midnight street, and two who pass d, Holding high talk of life and destiny. "Ay, though a million years be yet to run, At length must sound the hour of final doom, When the great sun, and all its circling worlds, And all their myriad life, shall sink in night Utter, eternal! Lo, what then are we The petty braggarts of a fleeting day But insects crawling on an orange-rind; Who hug the childish fancy that there dwells Somewhere beyond this flux of mortal things, This ceaseless, sweeping tide of cosmic fate, One who still heeds the cry of breaking hearts And knows or cares whether we live or die ! " Above a woman in a squalid room Watching with hard-drawn lips and tearless eyes The dead face of her only child: the hush Unbroken save by sound of lingering steps And voices in the street of two who pass d Holding high talk of life and destiny. Till the wild grief no longer might be pent; And, sinking by the bed, she clasp d her hands In frenzied gesture, moaning "O my God!" BY THE SHORE WAS it a dream? Did frolic fancy play An idle trick upon my soul that day ? In the rapt stillness of the eventide, Methought I heard surely, I seem d to hear, Held for a moment in the spirit s ear, Now hush d now rising to a swell once more The lap of waters on some unknown shore Upon the further side. Was it a dream ? I know not. This I know The memory of that evening long ago, Though oftentimes I since have sought in vain To catch that wind-borne melody again, Has lingered in my life, a sacred part Of all my deepest being; for to me, With some strange hint of some strange mystery, That murmur brought a solace for the heart An inward sense that everything was well, A touch of peace, of which no words can tell! What secret doth the ocean hold in store Beyond its vast horizons, evermore ? Friend! In the silence bend thou too thine ear, Listen and wait; if haply thou may st hear That music to the noisier hour denied The lap of waters on some unknown shore Upon the further side! THE LAND BEYOND THE WEST AT sunset hour I turn my eyes In wonder to the western skies; Behold, at some magician s touch The visionary splendours rise! Sometimes I see a city set With tapering tower and minaret; Its streets are rich with glories, such As earthly city knows not yet. And sometimes, lo, a mystic sea, Whereon no sail shall ever be; Over whose lambent waters rests The silence of eternity; Or land of far untrodden steeps And rolling downs, and crevass d deeps, And hills upon whose summit-crests A peace, we do not wot of, sleeps. O magic dream ! O thing divine ! Stay, that I may but call thee mine! Or leave me some memorial To cherish as a heavenly sign ! But from the Night s unmeasur d shore The ancient darkness surges o er; The west is cover d with a pall, The airy landscape is no more! 33 The Land Yet still, as one by duty press d, T that far land bG y" d the West Daily I fare and presently Will come the ending of my quest. I wonder will the vision stay Then, or for ever fade away ? Mine shall that world of glory be, Or empty darkness ? Who shall say ? 34 UNAWARES IN days of old, as legends tell For heaven and earth were nearer then - The gods would sometimes come to dwell A while with mortal men. Unknown they mov d, in simple guise, And mingled in the game of life; Yet watch d with unimpassion d eyes The tumult and the strife. Save when one came to know in part, Through love, what love hath aye for gain- The hunger of the human heart, The passion and the pain. Then in celestial eyes awoke A yearning not of heavenly birth; Serene, immortal beauty took The tenderness of earth. Fair was the maid, with eyes that gleam d Half-bashful through a mist of tears A simple maid, and one who seem d More lovely for her fears. The light wind whisper d soft and sweet Amid the glory of her hair; The fretted sunbeams kiss d her feet As she stood trembling there. 35 Unawares And the young shepherd, half-reclined Among the shadows cool and deep, Woke from his noontide dream to find Something more fair than sleep. Then, while he waited, all-afraid Lest with a breath the spell might fail, In artless speech the tender maid Told all her artless tale. A simple girl; but one whose charms Tempted a lawless robber-king, Who bore her from her father s arms Last night, a helpless thing. But she, amid the drunken feast, Had haply fled, and all that morn Had wander d, fearing man and beast, A creature all forlorn. And now she wept that nevermore, Since all her prayers had been in vain, She thought to find her father s door Or touch his hand again. While thus she begg d his speedy grace, The shepherd, half-reclining there, Look d silent on the blushing face, And found it wondrous fair. So, when he spake, no words were his Unawares Of proffer d help in all she pray d. The burden of his tale was this He lov d the simple maid. Kneeling, he press d her yielding hand, And, passionate, urged the sudden whim Could she forget her father s land And linger there with him ? And wherefore not ? For love is sweet, And vainly do we say him nay. And wherefore not ? For youth is fleet, And beauty dies away. His words were sweet; his voice was mild; His form a form of manly strength. The simple maiden blushing smiPd, And yielded all at length. For love hath power o er kindred hearts, And doth not urge his suit in vain. And wherefore not ? For youth departs, And comes not back again. Next morning, ere the breaking day Had marr d the dreaming boy s repose, Silent she mov d from where he lay, And from the sward arose. 37 Unawares Then strangely pass d her simple mien; The yearning in her eyes grew deep. She stood and watch d, a goddess-queen, Her mortal lover s sleep. And smiling lay the happy boy, While whispering branches told above Of all the tenderness and joy That Spring from twin-born love. Alas! that youth s first dream must fade, Leaving a pang unfelt before. Starting, he found the simple maid A simple maid no more. But in her stead, a goddess proud, Celestial-fair in matchless grace, With something of a sorrow s cloud About her bending face. Then, while the poor lad s trembling lips Some word of fitting homage sought, Gently she kiss d her finger-tips, And vanish d into naught. So the young shepherd went his way, Nor ever told, by word or sign, How by a simple maid he lay, And tasted love divine. And as for her, who learn d in part, Unawares Through love, what love hath aye for gain The hunger of the human heart, The passion and the pain, In her deep eyes that morn awoke A yearning not of heavenly birth, And her immortal beauty took The tenderness of earth. 39 METHUSELAH METHUSELAH, the Talmud says, Had not yet reckon* d half his days, When sitting once beneath his gourd To shade him from the noonday s glare, As in a vision wondrous fair He saw an angel of the Lord. "Arise!" the angel cried, " O, now, Methuselah, why restest thou ? Build straight a house for thine and thee; Firmly establish d let it be; See that its well-knit timbers hold In summer s heat and winter s cold; See that its walls resist all strain Of beating sun or driving rain. Up, to the labours of thy hands Tis thus, by me, the Lord commands! " Methuselah a moment bow d In silence. Then he spake aloud: " First, will my Lord not answer sure How long my life may still endure ? " Five hundred years, for good and ill, The Lord thy God will grant thee still." " Five hundred years! and then to die ? Twas thus the patriarch made reply; "Thy words are words of mockery. 40 Twere little worth thy servant s while Methuselah To spend his strength and days in toil, To build a house whose walls shall be Stablished for all futurity, When all that still before him lies Is summ d in five short centuries. " Build ! why, t were sheer insanity Thus to prepare for life, when I Am called upon so soon to die ! " The patriarch spake : the angel sped, Nor on his errand came again. Five hundred years passed o er the head Of old Methuselah in vain : The house unbuilded did remain. O Sons of mortals, ponder well The meaning of this parable ! THRENODY Soles occidere et redirc posiunt. Nobit) quum simul occidit brt-vh lux t Nox est pcrpetua una dormienda. WHAT matter, though behind yon distant hills To-night the sun sinks down ? What matter though the lengthening darkness fills The valley and the town ? Shall not the circling moments as of yore Roll round, and bring us soon, First the gray light of dawn, and then once more The fulness of the noon ? What matter, though the winter s wind blows cold, And all is nipped and bare ? And not a flower is over all the wold, Nor bird along the air ? Stern winter yet shall soften into spring With all its blithesome hours, And homing birds from sunny south-lands bring The golden charm of flowers. Dead Nature takes new life upon the bier. Through all her mighty range Suns set and rise, and with the changing year The seasons merge and change. For us, when once the sun has dipp d his head Threnody The spring has taken flight For us remains among the dreamless dead, The long and cheerless night. 43 APPEARANCES IN the city of my dreams, Where at times I dwell apart, Nothing is, but only seems In the city of my dreams. And I find them lovelier far, Deep within my secret heart, Things that seem than things that a Yes, I find them lovelier far! I am glad that in my dreams Nothing is, but only seems ! 44 THE BROTHERS I WHEN they rose in the dawn from their slumbers, They thrill d to behold The dull ruddy hues of the sunrise Blaze forth into gold. Then their faces they turn d to the eastward, As the glory grew bright, And gave praise to the Sun, the great giver Of life and of light. The morn set their pulses a-dancing As a draught of new wine. Heroic the build of their manhood Their beauty, divine. The youth in their limbs was triumphant; And, like the clear skies, Serene and untroubled and cloudless The light in their eyes. For lo, they were happy; for was not Their guerdon at birth Keen zest in the life of the senses, The gladness of earth ? 45 The And the zest and the gladness sufficed them, Brothers Nor felt they for dole The hunger and thirst of the spirit, The pangs of the soul. II But that night as they lay on the hillside, To their cool resting-place Came One in a vision, and haiPd them. They knew not His face. It was ghastly and wan in the moonlight, And the brows were all wet, Beneath the thorn-circlet that bound them, With blood and with sweat. And when with a gesture where pity And pleading were blent, He stretch d forth His hands to the sleepers, As by nails they were rent. Then the brothers were filPd with confusion; Their wonder wax d deep. Who was He that came thus in the darkness, To trouble their sleep ? What shade from the land of dim shadows ? What god from some far, Strange barbarous folk who have dwelling Beneath the North Star ? Full ready were they to upbraid Him; The And sharp to the tongue Brothers Leap d the word of an angry dismissal. But ere it was flung, The spell of the Presence o ercame them. In that tremulous light, The Face, though worn thin as with anguish, Though haggard and white, Was fill d with a tender, sad beauty Undream d of before. And those eyes they seem d half to compel them, And half to implore. For wistful their gaze, and beseeching, Yet searching their power To wake something within they had felt not, Nor guess d till that hour. So He stood; and the marvel possess d them Of what was to be; Till softly He broke the dread stillness: "Arise! Follow me!" Then they fain would have stay d Him, and ques- tion d; But durst not; and saw How He pass d, and was not. And they trembled With wonder and awe! 47 The III Brothers To the vast silent sands of the desert He fled, as one flees From the foot and the knife of the slayer; And there on his knees He wrestled and pray d in his anguish Who never had yet Known the passion and pangs of the spirit, Its desire and regret. And his face, like the face of the Master, Wax d pallid and wan; And his eyes, which serene and untroubled Had welcom d the dawn, Grew sad with a wistful dumb yearning Which never had birth In the keen joyous life of the senses, The gladness of earth. So he dwelt and he pray d in the desert, The elder of those To whom the strange Vision had spoken In the night of repose. Till at last the long conflict was over, And gently there stole A peace like the calm of the evening, Bringing rest to his soul. IV The Brothers O er his head pass d the years unrecorded, Till the day he was ware Of one standing beside him. He shielded His eyes from the glare, And then "O my brother! my brother," He cried; "is it thou? Where now is thy lustre of manhood ? Its glory where now ? " Oh, fresh was thy cheek, and unsullied, Once, brother ! thine eyes Serene and untroubled and cloudless Like the clear summer skies. " But now thou art flush* d like a wanton Full-drunken with wine. Thy glance is the leer of the satyr! I knew thee divine "In thy youth and thy strength and thy beauty I knew thee and now, Thou art one with the beasts, O my brother! Is it thou ? Is it thou ? And loud laugh* d the youth, and his laughter Rang mirthless and shrill. "Who art thou to pass judgment upon me ? I do as I will! 49 "When He found me thy Master and Brothers hail > d me> I heard and obey d. I too fled afar to the desert; I wrestled and pray d. " For His power was upon me, and stirr d me To torment within; O er the joy of my life there had fallen The shadow of sin; " And I thirsted, nor, thirsting, knew whither To turn in my drouth, For the waters of earth were as wormwood And gall in my mouth. " Till one day in the midst of my anguish, Like a blind man restor d, I saw of a sudden my folly I saw, and abhorr d. "And alone with the sands of the desert I lifted my cry : O Master of all disenchantment ! Thy power I defy! " By what right on my life, by what token, Thy law dost Thou lay ? Are there those who are fain to obey Thee ? Let such then obey! 50 " Let them learn of Thy lesson of sorrow The Let them bow to Thy will! Brothers I was Lord of my lot; and behold me The Lord of it still! " Thou hast conquer d not, O Galilean Thou hast conquer d not me! From the bondage in which Thou hast bound me I shake myself free! "I will stifle the cries and the anguish Of the soul in its birth! I will back to the life of the senses The gladness of earth ! " So I fled from the desert! " "O, brother/ 7 The elder made moan, " Did st thou find the old life that thou loved* st, The joy thou hadst known ? " For lo, thou art flush d as a wanton New-drunken with wine. Where now is thy glory of manhood ? Thy beauty divine ? And loud laugh d the youth, and his laughter Rang mirthless and shrill "Who art thou to pass judgment upon me ? I do as I will! The " In vain shall thy great Disenchanter Brothers H is will on me lay ! And he gather d his raiment about him, And hasten d away. To the life he had lov d ? Nay; henceforward His doom had been seal d; For his ways were the- ways of the satyr, And the beasts of the field! And he that was left in the desert Wept tears of despair; And not for himself, but his brother, He wrestled in prayer! Quatrains QUATRAINS THE PLAY ? T" 1 IS well that youth and love should have their 1 day, Filling the stage with music and with magic. Let us laugh loudly while we can the play In the fifth act is sure to turn to tragic. BREEZE AND GALE THAT very breeze which brought me the sweet strains From distant Arcady, that summer day, Had grown a gale which howl d across the plains Ere night, and swept my music all away. LANCELOT AND ELAINE NOT that she died. Dear child! for such a life, For such a love, what meeter end could be ? But that he liv d, torn through with mortal strife, A wreck of manhood such the tragedy ! THE BUILDING STONE upon stone ! How little each one shows ! Yet day by day slowly the building grows. And he who puts but one stone into line Helps to work out the Master s vast design. 55 Quatrains PAST AND PRESENT THIS same day s actions will to-morrow be Part of thy heritage of memory. Think well, how much each present, at the last, Of good or evil draws from out the past ! MARY S CRY O WO MAN S cry of love and sore despair, Echo d how oft in this our later day: "My dear Lord, they have taken him away! They have laid my Lord, the Christ, I know not where!" To TENNYSON MASTER and Friend! Not mine to bring to thee The tribute of the critic s formal praise. Part of the sacred music of my days Thy song hath been, and evermore will be. THE CALIPH S TOWER IV-NOWLEDGE! who boasts ? Does not IX. the story tell How the great Caliph built his tower in vain ? The Heavens were still as inaccessible As to the lowly dwellers on the plain! REALISM Quatrains OBSCENE imaginings gibbering shapes im pure The refuse of the gutter and the sewer: With these the dreary unclean page is rife. And the great artist tells us this is life. To ROBERT Louis STEVENSON MASTER, to thee our love and praise belong, That, in these days of sordid circumstance, Thou still could* st sing the old heroic song, Thou still hadst faith in things of high romance. IRONY IT stood a hundred years, a lonely giant, Mid summer lightnings, winter storms, defiant. One hush d night came a crash; and morning found The proud tree stretch d in ruin on the ground. "THE COMPLEAT ANGLER* NO angler I; yet o er thy pastoral page, Walton! in sooth full well I love to pore. It breathes the old-world peace we know no more In the mad rush and tumult of our age. 57 Quatrains THE LIFTED VEIL SAYS Science: "Lo, I lift the veil. Behold! " But when we turn, with eyes that almost fail, Before the Face in darkness from of old Shrouded, there hangs a yet unlifted veil. AT EARLY MORN THIS is the hour when I would feel a thrill Of joy from beauty never to be born. What summer day did ever yet fulfil The dainty promise of its early morn ? To A SCIENTIFIC FRIEND VfOURS is a gospel for the strong and bold. 1 But where shall one o erladen and oppress d Turn now to hear those gentle words of old: " Come unto me, and I will give you rest " ? CRISIS A HALF-REPLY to some half-utter d phrase A light word spoken more than half in jest; And now I know that there, for worst or best, I reach d a sudden parting of the ways! THE SEPULCHRE Quatrains SOME, with a careless glance, pass on; and some Hither with ribald jest and laughter come. From these apart, my silent hour I keep. Knowing my loss, I bow my head, and weep. FROM THE SABINE FARM SHALL I not laugh, when there is merry laughter ? When there is mirth, shall I enjoy it not ? Even though I know that there will follow after The silence that must close each human lot! CARPE DIEM LIVE while you live. Life calls for all your powers ; This instant day your utmost strength demands. He wastes himself who stops to watch the sands, And, miser-like, hoard up the golden he B R A 59 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY BERKELEY THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE LAST DATE STAMPED BELOW Books not returned on time are subject to a fine of f *?n r volume after the third day overdue, increasing to $1.00 per volume after the sixth day. Books not in demand may be renewed if application is made before expiration of loan period. OC1 50m-7, 16 YA 01647 A