I 
 
 THE 
 LITTLE 
 OLD HOUSE 
 
 ANNA WICKHAM 
 
 Hie. foetrij [ 
 
The 
 
 HELEN HOYT 
 
 LYMAN 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 of 
 
 MODERN 
 POETS 
 
 University 
 
 of California 
 
 Berkeley 
 
THE LITTLE OLD HOUSE 
 
By the Same Author. 
 
 THE CONTEMPLATIVE QUARRY (out of print). 
 THE MAN WITH A HAMMER. 
 
THE LITTLE OLD HOUSE 
 
 BY ANNA WICKHAM 
 
 LONDON - THE POETRY 
 
 BOOKSHOP, 35 DEVONSHIRE 
 
 ST., THEOBALDS RD., W.C.I 
 
 1921 
 
To ALICE and 
 
 GEOFFREY HARPER 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 The Little Old House 7 
 
 The Freeing 9 
 
 Portrait of a Boy 10 
 
 A Boy's Voice 10 
 
 Reprieve - 1 1 
 
 Sentiments - 11 
 
 Embassy - 12 
 
 The Open Door 12 
 
 The Two Kings 13 
 
 Naming the Girl 14 
 
 Carol 1 6 
 
 Biology for Breakfast 17 
 
 The Lute - 18 
 
 The Littlest Girl 19 
 
 The Performance 19 
 
 Pleasure of Words - 20 
 
 Work of James and the Nation Builders - 20 
 Study of a Certain Brilliant Young Actress - 22 
 
 Host 22 
 
 The House of Little Victories 23 
 
 Meg and the Witchwight 24 
 
 Stateswoman and the House - 25 
 
 Song for Domestic Anguish - 25 
 
 Due for Hospitality - 26 
 
 The Fairy Wife 27 
 
 The Homecoming 28 
 
 The Song of the Old Mother - 29 
 
 Reaction 30 
 
 Counsel to Craftswomen 31 
 
 Sung to the Silence 32 
 
 Song of the Exalted 34 
 
 The Pleader - 35 
 
 The Boy and the Playhouse - 36 
 
 Felicity Neat - 36 
 
 Tidiness and Order - - 37 
 
CONTENTS continued. 
 
 The Boy and the Scrapheap - 38 
 
 The Vain Girl 40 
 
 Note 40 
 
 Queen's Song on St. Valentine's Day 41 
 
 Song" - 42 
 
 The Eternal Faith - 42 
 
 To Jane-Across-the-Bay - 43 
 
 Young Mistress Marigold 43 
 
 Soothsayer 44 
 
 Song 4,4 
 In vocation to the Intelligence of a Gentleman 44 
 
 Light, the Daughter of Charity 45 
 
 On the Day they Took Down the Grille - 46 
 
 Dedication of the Cook - 4? 
 
 The Woman and the Aeroplane 48 
 
 Little Mouse Miasma 48 
 
 The Thrifty Lovers - 49 
 
 Eyes and the Child - 49 
 
 The Mirror 50 
 
 Manumission - 52 
 
 The Doorkeeper 53 
 
 Miracle ------ 54 
 
THE LITTLE OLD HOUSE 
 
 Now the house of your Grandfather Hardy 
 
 Was a scented Shropshire farm, 
 
 Where a boy might dream in the cinders, 
 
 Without a thought of harm, 
 
 For he who is burnt finds ointment 
 
 As soon as he understands 
 
 And the sting of a burn may be welcomed 
 
 For the healing of certain hands. 
 
 O the hands of your Grandmother Hardy 
 
 Were lovely and strong and white. 
 
 For she rubbed on their red with goose grease 
 
 After her prayers at night. 
 
 And they were free in giving 
 
 Yet never gave too much ; 
 
 And not a baby living 
 
 Could cry beneath their touch. 
 
 Now the faith of your Grandfather Hardy 
 Was burning and clear and keen ; 
 His heart was like his homestead 
 Ordered and straight and clean ; 
 And when his work was ended, 
 Because the light grew dim, 
 Stole out of the clear cut shadows 
 A lovely English hymn. 
 
O the love of your Grandmother Hardy 
 Was good as farm-house bread ; 
 For all that was strong she worshipped, 
 And all that was weak she led. 
 And when her man was wounded 
 By a stray shot on his land, 
 She chid her eyes for weeping 
 But could not raise her hand. 
 
 Then take the tinker's road my son 
 
 Or sit in the courts of kings, 
 
 Yet carry from your mother 
 
 These two most royal things; 
 
 Let the faith of your Grandfather Hardy 
 
 Stand for your pride in life; 
 
 Let the hands of your Grandmother Hardy 
 
 Conduct you to your wife. 
 
THE FREEING 
 
 True Love came to the Sleepers' town, 
 Wandering up and wandering down, 
 I'm looking for the man I know is there 
 Hidden with cowardice, hidden with care, 
 Behind false looks and behind false speech, 
 I will have him out and throne him within reach 
 Of all men's honour for all men's aid, 
 And Time shall acclaim the king that I have made. 
 Such a king we have met, you and I, in a dream, 
 For we two know, you are not the slave you seem 
 But a most royal prisoner to whom I bring release 
 That you may have God's laughter, and I may have 
 God's peace. 
 
PORTRAIT OF A BOY 
 
 Here is a silvery beauty, like the sheen 
 Of dandy clocks and daisies on new green, 
 And yet his skin has meshed the sun's full light, 
 And he has gold to aureole his white. 
 
 As pure as peace the moulding of his face, 
 His eyes' clear blue is tint of courtesy, 
 And on his cheeks' dinted most rosy place, 
 Sleep, near the full rose mouth, 
 Young loves to be. 
 
 His slim arched feet are swift as nesting birds, 
 His body lissom as a willow wand, 
 And little brooks leap laughing through his words, 
 And like a sporting squirrel, his brown hand. 
 
 A BOY'S VOICE 
 
 So lovely is his voice to me, 
 
 That I imagine a young tree 
 
 To rain a golden dew 
 
 More sweet to taste than wine. 
 
 Each perfect yellow sphere 
 
 Is as a word I hear 
 
 A sunny note, from the young throat 
 
 Of this white boy of mine. 
 
 16 
 
REPRIEVE 
 
 I am heavy with my secret 
 
 And with uneasy happiness. 
 
 Here's too much joy for sense to bear ! 
 
 From rapture is my weariness. 
 
 That he should love so true and well 
 After estranged long years ! 
 
 if my pride would let me tell 
 My glad relief in tears. 
 
 So old is my dumb misery 
 
 1 cannot hope to weep ; 
 Then come Oblivion cover me 
 Let me go hence, and sleep. 
 
 SENTIMENTS 
 
 Windswept from where they grew 
 These tender flowers lie dead : 
 How many things were true 
 Had they been left unsaid. 
 
 ii 
 
EMBASSY 
 
 All the great lovely house 
 
 When he's away, 
 
 Is like a bush 
 
 From which the rose is torn. 
 
 Is like a songless thrush 
 
 A flowerless May 
 
 Is like a gemless crown 
 
 A sunless morn. 
 
 Have you not marked him and his pageantry 
 
 Grace and the pleasure which I lack? 
 
 Hut he has left a gallant guard with me : 
 
 I will send Love, to drive him back. 
 
 THE OPEN DOOR 
 
 Opening my door to sun and scented wind 
 I saw Spring moving in the appleboughs 
 The vision of your beauty came into my mind 
 Your hands, your throat, your mouth, and your fine 
 moulded brows. 
 
 It were as wise to shut you from my soul 
 As from my house to ban the air and light. 
 Then come you in ! and live my blest control : 
 I draw the bolt. It is no longer night. 
 
 12 
 
THE TWO KINGS 
 
 To an eloquent friend 1 had given the key 
 
 Of my heart and my house and my granary ; 
 
 He flung my heart for his dogs to eat, 
 
 And the shift of my soul he spread for his feet, 
 
 And freely he squandered my loveliest thing, 
 
 He would have me allow him the pride of a king. 
 
 Because of his kingliness was I so poor, 
 
 That I knocked for an alms at my silent friend's door. 
 
 Sham'dly and sadly I told him my needs, 
 
 And he said " Long ago friend I gave you two seeds 
 
 Which I hid in my garden and now they are grown, 
 
 One tree is my wage, and the other your own." 
 
 Then courteous he led me, " Come hither and see." 
 
 The gardener had nurtured a magical tree, 
 
 For the fruit was of gold and the trunk was of jade 
 
 So I mended the wreck which my false friend had made. 
 
NAMING THE GIRL 
 
 Soon after I was five, my dear 
 We lived beside the sea, 
 And I had such an angry nurse 
 She took the shells from me 
 She hid the crinkly shells away, 
 For the small faults of yesterday. 
 
 And even smiling was a sin ! 
 Nurse took a brush and scrubbed my skin- 
 And when her nasty work was done 
 They found my brownness was the sun 
 And then she coughed and scolded me 
 For all I did in Italy. 
 
 And we'd a great tall house 
 With shadows on the stairs 
 And devils in the corners 
 Who popped out after prayers. 
 
 I can see them now my dear 
 Though I am nearly old, 
 
 But once in that house garden 
 
 1 found a marigold. 
 
And O it looked so happy ! 
 
 And O it shone so sweet ! 
 
 I ran up through the shadows 
 
 With dancing in my feet, 
 
 And I polka-ed in the schoolroom 
 
 When nurse was at her tea; 
 
 I didn't hear her scolding 
 
 When she remembered me. 
 
 And when your Mother told me 
 Her beautiful surprise, 
 I thought about my marigold 
 From pleasure in her eyes, 
 1 said " If it's a little girl 
 Who comes to live with you, 
 Be kind and call her Marigold 
 After the one I knew." 
 
CAROL 
 
 When little Jesus slept 
 
 Unguarded in a stable 
 
 Out of the grass a Daisy crept 
 
 As close as he was able, 
 
 And watched the babe with steady eye 
 
 While following bees droned lullaby 
 
 " Day's eye, Day's eye, thou blest day's eye.' 
 
 Happy was Mary in that hour 
 
 At service from so low a flower. 
 
 And Cherubim at night 
 
 Flew with the tale to God 
 
 Who touched the flower from Heaven's height 
 
 With a great shining rod 
 
 And in the morning it is told 
 
 That daisy woke a marigold. 
 
 " Mary's gold, O Mary's gold," 
 
 Yet more than gold that mother mild 
 
 Loved a flower's kindness to her child. 
 
 16 
 
BIOLOGY FOR BREAKFAST 
 
 (Nine hundred and ninety ninth 
 type of domestic argument) 
 
 Why does the peacock spread his jewelled tail, 
 And walk so proud a prince of gentlemen ? 
 Has he not hopes his beauty will prevail 
 With that small critical brown hen ? 
 
 Why does the throstle clear his mellow throat, 
 Till all the wood a magic draught receives? 
 Has he not faith some individual note 
 May yet convince Herself among the leaves? 
 
 Think of the tiger and his fiery zest, 
 
 Of all hot fights the wilds among, 
 
 If she who waits approves not of the test 
 
 She'll brook the lover, but devour his young. 
 
 Good scientist, review all things alive, 
 And for male strength and beauty you will find 
 If not a cause a fixed co-relative 
 W T ithin the female mind. 
 
In all creative will has done 
 This female judgment was God's tool 
 And yet my Lord you'll take my son 
 And send him to a public school ! 
 
 Burn me the cities ! Raze this little height, 
 Clear its complexity, and then 
 Give me my pride, my ancient natural right 
 To breed you men ! 
 
 THE LUTE 
 
 I am Love's lute; I am thine instrument 
 When thou art mute, then am I discontent, 
 The wedded song of us shall rule the flood 
 And tame the whirlwind in its wildest mood. 
 
 For at thy singing must my heart afford 
 
 Its natural music, a sustaining chord : 
 
 Then strike, O Troubadour, these pliant strings 
 
 And walk most mighty through the arch of kings. 
 
THE LITTLEST GIRL 
 
 Here's a small woman 
 
 So absurdly young, 
 
 She is not well-acquainted 
 
 With her tongue ! 
 
 Finger goes in 
 
 Exploring all about 
 
 Then with the rosy tongue 
 
 Comes wandering out, 
 
 Travels awhile 
 
 Along the rosier lips : 
 
 Time for a smile ! 
 
 So back the hermit slips 
 
 And head aside 
 
 Like a full rose on stalk 
 
 Her eyes are wide 
 
 To hear the giant's talk. 
 
 THE PERFORMANCE 
 
 When we played a Greek play to the poor, 
 
 A fat old woman quickly sought the door. 
 
 She looked like a sad black beetle in her old shawl, 
 
 A creature that one could not educate at all. 
 
 I shall go back to Plaistow before long, 
 
 And sing that woman just a silly funny song. 
 
PLEASURE OF WORDS 
 
 As a tired man 
 
 Throws himself down on sun-warmed grass ; 
 
 As the lips of a babe 
 
 Close fervently at the kind breast ; 
 
 As a man starved for love 
 
 Knows the dear contact of his woman's body, 
 
 So and with fuller rapture the poet remembers 
 
 Life and the pleasure that is in speech. 
 
 WORK OF JAMES AND 
 THE NATION BUILDERS 
 
 Jim's a lad that's stout and bold, 
 Five days more than five years old ; 
 What craft shall this craftsman choose ? 
 He'll wash the hearth and brush the shoes. 
 
 Brushing shoes is the queer boy's fun 
 Yet Master James is a gentleman's son; 
 There's a trade for the squire to choose 
 Washing hearths and brushing shoes ! 
 
 20 
 
P'raps it's the fault of the poor lad's nurse 
 That he won't remember that work's a curse, 
 Maybe his Mother's one whit to blame 
 That he will believe that work's a game. 
 
 All his young life he has never been sick 
 His eyes are clear and his fingers quick 
 He's free as a king, and hale as a peasant 
 His body tells him that work is pleasant. 
 
 Who knows but our world has read amiss 
 
 The splendid myth of Genesis ! 
 
 For God can never curse the ground 
 
 When man's heart is high and his body sound. 
 
 Then let our nobler age confess 
 God's curse on slattern weariness ! 
 Cursed be such sloth, and let it be desired 
 That no child ail, so man be never tired. 
 
 More blest than Eden is our world of sin 
 Since curious cleansings can be wrought therein 
 Then let our pride contrive a thousand games, 
 To search and scour with all the zest of James. 
 
STUDY OF A CERTAIN 
 BRILLIANT YOUNG ACTRESS 
 
 She can never do her Duty, 
 
 She remembers the people who taught her music 
 
 When she was a child; 
 
 Then from a ravished sense of beauty 
 
 She becomes so self-conscious 
 
 That she runs wild. 
 
 She can't work 
 
 She functions like a flower or a wheel. 
 
 Even in art 
 
 She never knows, she can only feel. 
 
 Leave her alone 
 
 She will accomplish what God meant 
 
 She'll give you something perfect 
 
 As a roses's scent. 
 
 HOST 
 
 When I was host to my enemy 
 
 I set him a chair of state 
 
 I summoned a solemn company 
 
 And served him quails on gold plate, 
 
 I pledged him courteous all the night 
 
 And this I did for spite. 
 
 There was little enough of my pride to see 
 When I was host to my friend, 
 
 22 
 
I set him a dish of hominy 
 
 The feast came quick to an end. 
 
 I said " It is here I have lost my skin 
 
 Since I was a hardy fool 
 
 Then open your counsel and let me come in 
 
 To school myself at your school." 
 
 With the blood of my wounds I pledged my friend 
 
 And fitly I had proved 
 
 Before that grim carousal's end 
 
 How courteous I had loved. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF LITTLE 
 VICTORIES 
 
 The house is barred unto the lover. 
 His foot shall not pass over 
 Stone of this threshold- 
 Though fires be fierce within 
 The living heart is cold. 
 This house is open to all covert sin 
 Free to the poor light mind, 
 But thou Desirer Come not in ! 
 'Tis thou wilt loose and bind. 
 This is the house of an eternal sloth 
 And they who live therein are loth 
 To sting and wake. 
 Leave thou this dwelling 
 For thy kingship's sake. 
 
MEG AND THE WITCH WIGHT 
 
 Muddly Meg was ever toiling 
 With all her poor thin ugly will, 
 Muddly Meg was ever spoiling 
 Muddly Meg was never still. 
 
 Meg was working at her children 
 She took no gracious thought to please, 
 Meg was working at her baby, 
 She never stopt to kiss his knees ; 
 Meg was working at her husband 
 Till that poor man ran mad one day : 
 He said " I'll go and fetch a witch-wight 
 There's one sells pipes across the way. 
 
 Thither he came the merry master 
 Covered the vizen with a motley dress 
 He said " Thou fountain of disaster 
 Thou mother of foul idleness, 
 Stifler of men, ill architect of children, 
 Follow pale misery. Come shake a leg! 
 And they went dancing down our village 
 The mystery man, and merry Meg. 
 
 24 
 
STATESWOMAN AND THE HOUSE 
 
 Were there dynamic in a pure democracy 
 
 The servants in this house would not reflect my mood ; 
 
 When I'm all inky with my poetry 
 
 No thing is found where it but lately stood. 
 
 When I'm not willing all this house runs ill 
 
 Since for fulfilling I advance the will, 
 
 I am their slave, since they will never rule for me: 
 
 That I'll not have, and they shall go to school for me. 
 
 Thus I'll compel them, thus they shall be free. 
 All power applied conditions liberty 
 And the full power of life shall not be known, 
 Till through their freedom, I attain my own. 
 
 SONG FOR DOMESTIC ANGUISH 
 
 Give me a house where the servants sing, 
 
 Fit it with green baize doors 
 
 So that the faults of their carolling 
 
 Stop at the servants' floors. 
 
 Ingenious Love shall bring to pass 
 
 This happy Reconstruction, 
 
 Stating the difference betwixt class and class 
 
 Not in Joy, but in Voice-production. 
 
DUE FOR HOSPITALITY 
 
 (To H.M.) 
 
 God is a courteous gentleman 
 
 And a most genial host. 
 
 Such could not rest 
 
 If any guest 
 
 Should leave his house to roast ! 
 
 Then fear not Hell ! 
 
 Respect God well : 
 
 He's great as man at least. 
 
 Before you're dead, 
 
 See there is spread, 
 
 Within your life a feast, 
 
 Which it is meet 
 
 That you should eat, 
 
 With courtesy expressed. 
 
 Acclaim with mirth 
 
 God's pleasant earth, 
 
 As fits a gracious guest. 
 
 26 
 
THE FAIRY WIFE 
 
 When you have gathered a thousand pound 
 
 I'll not let you kiss me, 
 
 I'll steal out of the garden bound 
 
 And you will never miss me 
 
 You'll buy a farm with your minted gold, 
 
 And drowse o'er the fire, as you grow old. 
 
 Slippery slippery spending Jack 
 
 What wealth would you gather ? What gold could 
 
 you keep ? 
 
 You'd had scarcely a coat for your great broad back, 
 If I had not charmed you full half asleep 
 When the good grain's in the great oak box 
 I'm through the edges as lithe as a fox. 
 
 Love ! Love ! Love, I'm tired of the name 
 Mine is the wound and yours is the balm 
 I'm to a duck pond to drown the flame, 
 When you are master of yon hill-farm . 
 Sleep sounder sounder slippery Jack, 
 And quickly gather the gold you lack. 
 
 It is my pleasure to walk alone 
 
 On the sheer steep above the snow, 
 
 I have a cave and a bed of my own 
 
 On the blue height where lichens grow, 
 
 There I will sing with the deeps to hear 
 
 While the stars keep their courses nor swing too near. 
 
 27 
 
THE HOMECOMING 
 
 I waited ten years in the husk 
 That once had been our home 
 Waiting from dawn till dusk 
 To see if he would come. 
 
 And there he was beside me 
 Always at board and bed, 
 I looked and woe betide me 
 He whom I loved was dead. 
 
 He fell at night on the hill side, 
 They brought him home to his place; 
 I had not the solace of sorrow 
 Until I had looked in his face. 
 
 Then 1 clutched the broken body, 
 To see if he stirred or moved, 
 For there in the smile of his dying 
 Was the gallant man I had loved. 
 
 wives come lend me your weeping 
 
 1 have not enough of tears, 
 
 For he is dead who was sleeping 
 These ten accursed years. 
 
 28 
 
THE SONG OF THE OLD 
 MOTHER 
 
 Do you remember the summer 
 
 Before the boy was born ? 
 
 You rowed me up the river, 
 
 Between the filling' corn, 
 
 I see you now as you smiled at me 
 
 And handed me ashore 
 
 Then we were happier lovers, 
 
 Than in the vear before. 
 
 We wandered in the orchard 
 
 Beside the river brink 
 
 I saw the young bronze apples 
 
 And lingered there to think. 
 
 " The child will be here in the autumn, 
 
 When fruit is red on the boughs." 
 
 You asked me why I was smiling 
 
 As we went into the house. 
 
 The last thing I saw from my windows 
 Were ladders against the trees 
 Then I woke on my happiest morning 
 To see your son on your knees, 
 And I was weak for laughing 
 But there were tears in my joy 
 To see yourself a father 
 And you a slip of a boy. 
 
And he was brave and wholesome 
 Like apples. As he began 
 He always was and shall be 
 Your son is a splendid man. 
 But sure I was never his mother, 
 For you are my only child, 
 The lad who stood in the orchard 
 To help me ashore, and smiled. 
 
 REACTION 
 
 A certain bitter shrew 
 Gained sudden courtesy 
 Until a wonder grew, 
 That such a change should be. 
 
 Said that poor man her mate, 
 " This thing can not endure." 
 And the priest came out in state 
 Scenting miraculous cure. 
 
 He asked " How is't my child 
 You who were harsh of old 
 Are now so douce and mild 
 And are no more a scold?" 
 
 Then did her quick tears start 
 " I am grown sudden kind, 
 Since I saw a man of great heart, 
 And of most gallant mind." 
 
COUNSEL TO CRAFTSWOMEN 
 
 Deep in the man there is a lonely boy 
 To life's hard nurture still unreconciled 
 Starving for beauty and for natural joy : 
 Go thou kind woman, and console the child ! 
 
 There is new truth concealed in this day's night 
 And man shall find it with a boy's keen eyes 
 Thine honour is in victory for his sight : 
 Feed then the child in him if thou art wise. 
 
 Make of thy love a pleasant laughing game 
 And set thy beauty like a birth day feast 
 Be thou first mother, who art wife in name : 
 So is his man-hood grown, his power increased. 
 
 Yet, for that manhood call him not " My son " 
 But at his weakest honour him in word. 
 So shall a play-boy when the game is done 
 Prove thy most true and honourable lord ! 
 
SUNG TO THE SILENCE 
 
 Where hast thou hid thee 
 
 My most dear delight ? 
 
 When my heart bid thee 
 
 Thou cam'st not in sight. 
 
 I thought Love held a happy wizardry 
 
 So to rule chance 
 
 That he'd deliver thee. 
 
 Fortune's a cheat 
 
 Since she withholds my dear 
 
 We may not meet 
 
 Through all this heavy year ; 
 
 Silent I wait 
 
 For I will never call thee 
 
 I'll yet rule Chance 
 
 That sudden joy befall me. 
 
 Beauty's no mime 
 To heed a prompter's call 
 She'll choose her time 
 Or she'll not come at all. 
 I'll to my grave 
 Without our happy meeting 
 Rather than wound thee 
 With unlovely greeting. 
 
 Lacking his presence 
 What is left for me? 
 I'll find his essence 
 His dear quality. 
 
By sheltered tarns- 
 
 Where the spent sea-wind dies 
 
 There is the stillness 
 
 Of my lover's eyes. 
 
 Where a full sea 
 
 Beats steady to the sand 
 
 There is the strength 
 
 And beauty of his hand. 
 
 In the deep wood's 
 
 Most fragrant holy place, 
 
 There is his scent 
 
 His mystery and his grace. 
 
 In the hot heart of song 
 
 In the bright soul of story 
 
 There is the shadow 
 
 Of my lover's glory. 
 
 In all there is 
 
 For pleasure and for pride, 
 
 There does the spirit 
 
 Of my love abide. 
 
 Come thou discover me 
 Lest I should be betrayed 
 To lose thy substance 
 Beauty's but thy shade. 
 Dear, rule thou Chance 
 For such is my good faith 
 I love thee living 
 More than any wraith ! 
 
SONG OF THE EXALTED 
 
 This child's father is a strong man, is a valiant man 
 
 He is God's man. 
 
 He is lord of anvils, hammers and fierce fires 
 
 With his great hand he fashions a brass pan 
 
 And he shall spill in it world's hungers, world's desires. 
 
 This child's father is a strong man, is a valiant man 
 
 He is God's man. 
 
 He shall stretch his sinewy back and shall exalt the pan 
 
 Brimming with tears and grimy sweat and grief 
 
 He shall fling it to the stars, for the old world's relief 
 
 Till the black liquor sinks through crevices of night 
 
 And the assaulted dome crashes an answering light. 
 
 This child's father is a strong man, is a valiant man 
 
 He is God's man. 
 
 I am more blest than any other 
 
 Since he has called me 
 
 For his proud heir's mother. 
 
THE PLEADER 
 
 Love has compelled me subtly to offend 
 He, who is very Prince of Courtesy 
 And for his fault 1 cannot make amend, 
 I am your suppliant for charity. 
 
 How meek is Love, who thus will be a mime 
 To learn if faith be worthy of delight ; 
 How proud ! He will not leave the test to Time 
 He swoops to knowledge like a spear in flight. 
 
 Love has compelled me to forego my will 
 My tongue turns traitor to my heart and mind 
 If you believe of me my feigned ill 
 I must forswear you, since you are not kind. 
 
 House of all dear Desires There is no cost 
 But I would pay it to abide in you. 
 Then yield your little debt, lest all be lost : 
 Pay in blind loyalty Love's chosen due. 
 
 35 
 
THE BOY AND THE PLAYHOUSE 
 
 Give him two sticks a flower and a stone, 
 And the small model of a sheep, 
 And such a fairy land will be his own, 
 As you'll not find in waking or in sleep. 
 
 Blind educationist, take your proper way ! 
 And never teach a little child to play ! 
 God send our theatre new phantasies, 
 As fresh and exquisite as his. 
 
 FELICITY NEAT 
 
 Felicity Neat the serving maid 
 Cleared the muddle Queen Order made, 
 Smoothed her silver dress away 
 In scented leaves of yesterday, 
 Then turned a musical handle round 
 Till people danced to the pleasant sound. 
 Queen Order laughed to their chiming feet : 
 O how I love you, Felicity Neat. 
 
TIDINESS AND ORDER 
 
 Where work is always finished 
 And nothing ever strays, 
 There are the sad old children 
 And the wet empty days. 
 
 There are too many servants 
 So every day is long 
 And duty fills all silence 
 And leaves no room for song. 
 
 In the house of beautiful Order 
 Everything has its place, 
 But a boy may run out of the schoolroom 
 To kiss his Mother's face. 
 
 37 
 
THE BOY AND THE 
 SCRAPHEAP 
 
 Let us find the truth of Stephen 
 Since God has set the seed of him 
 So honouring our service 
 Till man shall have his need of him. 
 Can we understand his essence 
 Know the secret of his joy ? 
 Here a woman and her husband 
 Are joined within a boy. 
 
 See his straight lovely body 
 
 As he runs across the field ! 
 
 There is his Mother's courage, 
 
 Clear written and revealed, 
 
 And his face has flowers and marbles 
 
 And stars and firefly light 
 
 For he stole his father's spirit 
 
 In the silence of the night. 
 
 A fairy boy is Stephen 
 And warden of such gold 
 That what he steals is given 
 Again a thousand fold ; 
 I flung him sticks and rubble 
 For the pleading of his eyes, 
 And there among the stubble 
 He built a paradise. 
 
What need have such as Stephen 
 For a beauty clear defined ? 
 For the Mother of all perfectness 
 Sits throned within his mind. 
 There is Old Wit the huntress 
 With her brave dogs in hand 
 And Stephen shall unleash them 
 To riot through his land. 
 
 And where he runs they follow 
 Hosanna, for the chase ! 
 For see, within what hollow 
 They make their sporting place ! 
 Not among flocks and beehives 
 Not on the beach or down, 
 But on a builder's scrapheap, 
 Of this erroneous town . 
 
THE VAIN GIRL 
 
 When you left me last night 
 I dressed myself in shiny white ; 
 I wore my simplest satin dress 
 Knowing you love my slenderness. 
 And I was like an ivory snake 
 And I was this for Beauty's sake. 
 
 NOTE 
 
 A fine spirit of hospitality 
 
 Has disregard for property 
 
 And fine contempt of quality. 
 
 It offers all things easy-found and rare 
 
 Without words, without apparent care, 
 
 As God almighty offers "sun and air. 
 
 40 
 
QUEEN'S SONG ON SAINT 
 VALENTINE'S DAY 
 
 Here are we You and I 
 
 Waiting, waiting ! 
 
 While the happy birds flash by 
 
 Swift to their mating. 
 
 In March will fledgelings be in nest 
 
 In March I'll lay my babe to rest 
 
 On the knees of the king. 
 
 O happy Mother ! and O happy Spring ! 
 
 What shall we do, you and I 
 
 Waiting, waiting? 
 
 We will bless the birds that fly 
 
 Swift to their mating 
 
 And through the house we'll gather wool and thread, 
 
 That Mistress Thrush mav build a royal bed 
 
 For her brave children, who will dream of flight 
 
 When you my babe, have joy of light. 
 
 Thanks for your song good thrush 
 
 You cheer our waiting. 
 
 See I have laid you wool beneath this bush 
 
 God bless your mating. 
 
 4 1 
 
SONG 
 
 There is one lovely ! There is one kind 
 Of gracious heart, and of delicious mind ! 
 And to my mortal flesh immortal joys are given 
 Since he is not withheld from me by any coward's 
 
 Heaven 
 
 But he shall walk and talk with me 
 Through these unhonoured ways 
 To sanctify this town to me 
 And hallow all my days. 
 
 THE ETERNAL FAITH 
 
 Thou art established in my endless love 
 Firm as a hill is set upon a plain, 
 The little torrents leap, the great winds move : 
 Thou shalt fear changes as the heights fear rain. 
 
 My faith shall hold thee in thy chosen way 
 Sure as that will which binds the stars in place. 
 Would'st thou mistrust me ? Wait that final day 
 When hills lack bases, and when suns doubt space. 
 
TO JANE-ACROSS-THE-BAY 
 
 When my blossomy tree came out in May 
 
 To the edge of the sea I took my way 
 
 And set a flowery twig afloat : 
 
 I thought white petals the sails of a boat 
 
 And dreamed kind winds would bring it to land 
 
 Where rosy feet touch happy sand. 
 
 A flower went down in the foam of the sea, 
 
 But a gallant ship was lost to me. 
 
 YOUNG MISTRESS MARIGOLD 
 
 She is so courteous, she is so wise 
 She wakes every morning with joy in her eyes, 
 To bless with her smiles what we say, what we do, 
 And honour our loving the whole day through. 
 
 Her cheeks are rose red, and her body snow white 
 
 I found a new pearl in her lips last night 
 
 Will my heart burst for love of such gems flowers and 
 
 snows ! 
 For she is all-sweet, and she grows and she grows. 
 
SOOTHSAYER 
 
 Take heed ! Thou lovest in the king's pale daughter 
 
 The shadow of thyself in a still pool. 
 
 When thou hast riddled this, curse not the water, 
 
 Nor scorn thyself for a bedazzled fool. 
 
 Therein 's thy Godhead. Thou art more than human 
 
 To raise such dreads, from such a silly woman. 
 
 SONG 
 
 I will sing no more of Love 
 
 Love shall sing in me, 
 
 I will sing the bird in the grove, 
 
 The flower the fish and the bee, 
 
 For I love well small things that dwell 
 
 On land and in the sea. 
 
 INVOCATION TO THE 
 
 INTELLIGENCE 
 
 OF A GENTLEMAN 
 
 Nymph in a Cloud ! 
 Shy loiterer on a height ! 
 By faith art thou avowed 
 Thou art not known to sight ; 
 Pity the clod in me, 
 Frail denizen of air ; 
 I, lacking sight of thee, 
 Must doubt if thou art there ! 
 
 44 
 
LIGHT, THE DAUGHTER OF CHARITY 
 
 Light, the daughter of Charity 
 
 Kissed her servants and made them free, 
 
 Staunched the wounds of their mad carouse 
 
 With holy oil of her Father's house 
 
 Then harried them back to Charity, 
 
 To sweep in her cupboards and find a key. 
 
 Thus she came to her power at length, 
 
 Loosed from their bonds young Beauty and Strength ; 
 
 " Hear, my sons ! for your Mother is wise, 
 
 Sorrow has fed her ears and her eyes, 
 
 But you for your joy shall be wiser than she," 
 
 Said Light the daughter of Charity. 
 
 " Beauty, thy scent shall be truer than Truth, 
 
 In strength shall abide eternal youth, 
 
 And he shall steal from that poisoner Night 
 
 A lovelier gem than the jewel of Light :" 
 
 Thus said the daughter of Charity 
 
 Who swept in her cupboards and found a key. 
 
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ON THE DAY THEY TOOK DOWN 
 
 THE GRILLE 
 
 (House of Commons, 1917) 
 
 Now give me a high room and a long taper 
 
 Much ink and pens and endless reams of paper, 
 
 Then 1 might well my lyric mettle prove, 
 
 For I have made a peace with my true-love. 
 
 How were my singing more than raucous din, 
 
 With fires and tempests raging fierce within ? 
 
 1 cannot raise a paradise from me 
 
 Without some seedlings from reality. 
 
 If ever I speak truth or I sing clear 
 
 Impute it to my love, that he is dear, 
 
 If I show gallantry in any fight 
 
 Know a man's courage was his wife's delight, 
 
 If I walk comely know a woman's grace 
 
 Is but the image of her lover's face. 
 
 Go black-cat Misery avoid my pages 
 
 Hence clammy Passion with your bombast rages 
 
 Tell me some henbird sings upon her tree 
 
 And I will raise a natural melody 
 
 But if male singing is by God preferred 
 
 I will learn silence from the nobler bird. 
 
DEDICATION OF THE COOK 
 
 If any ask why there's no great She-Poet, 
 Let him come live with me, and he will know it : 
 If I'd indite an ode or mend a sonnet, 
 I must go choose a dish or tie a bonnet ; 
 For she who serves in forced virginity 
 Since I am wedded will not have me free ; 
 And those new flowers my garden is so rich in 
 Must die for clammy odours of my kitchen. 
 
 Yet had I chosen Dian's barrenness 
 I'm not full woman, and I can't be less, 
 So could I state no certain truth for life, 
 Can I survive and be my good man's wife ? 
 
 Yes ! I will make the servant's cause my own 
 That she in pity leave me hours alone 
 So I will tend her mind and feed her wit 
 That she in time have her own joy of it ; 
 And count it pride that not a sonnet's spoiled 
 Lacking her choice betwixt the baked and boiled. 
 So those young flower my garden is so rich in 
 Will blossom from the ashes of my kitchen ! 
 
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THE WOMAN AND THE 
 AEROPLANE 
 
 Here I stand in this muddy Street 
 
 While a great plane goes by ! 
 
 There is a rage of dancing in my .feet 
 
 And in my heart a mad-ecstatic cry 
 
 " He is up ! He is out ! 
 
 Brave on supremest enterprise 
 
 With a swift menace all about 
 
 He cleaves new skies 
 
 Insistent as that engine is his mood ; 
 
 I know it by the leaping of my blood !" 
 
 LITTLE MOUSE MIASMA 
 
 I'll tell you what the Fairy did 
 Who feared the shocking mouse, 
 She fed her fire with wurzel-skins 
 And spoiled her lovely house 
 And smoked out all her house my dear 
 For a wizard small as that 
 Although his secret would be clear 
 To any common cat. 
 
 Now I'm a horrid giant dear 
 
 As every child can see, 
 
 And soon the horrid smoke will clear, 
 
 And all because of me ! 
 
 For I will kill the shocking mouse 
 
 With this small stick I hold 
 
 And then the fairy's lovely house 
 
 Will shine like gems and gold. 
 
THE THRIFTY LOVER 
 
 She is so exquisite ! I will go hence 
 
 To make a singing of her eminence 
 
 For if her living lips should touch my skin 
 
 Such sweet commotion would abide therein 
 
 That I were no more diligent and no more wise 
 
 Than to breathe out my happy life in sighs. 
 
 For very fear of her I'll go my way 
 
 Yet bare her beauty in my heart each day; 
 
 A richer treasure shall I win from this 
 
 Than will a hardier man who waits to kiss : 
 
 From such chaste intercourse might well be got 
 
 Songs that will live when she and I are not. 
 
 EYES AND THE CHILD 
 
 Looking from out the gates of paradise 
 The Holy Child perceived the devil ; 
 Long he regarded him with pitying eyes, 
 Then said " Thou art no ugly thing of evil 
 But a great angel sorely tired 
 Then come thou, eat and sleep within." 
 The devil followed as the babe desired : 
 That was the end of sin. 
 
THE MIRROR 
 
 'Twas on the eve of Christmas day 
 
 I had not hope nor charity 
 
 I met a beggar on my way 
 
 Who stretched his hand and grinned at me 
 
 I went into mv house and barred the door 
 
 " He is not poor as I am poor." 
 
 'Twas on the morn of Christmas day 
 Bankrupt in heart and sick in mind 
 O'er heath and wild I took my way 
 In haste to leave Myself behind 
 When on the hill I paused for breath 
 I found that beggar still as death. 
 
 He said " Oh thou that art a cold 
 With fiercer rigours than this blast 
 I sue for neither warmth nor gold 
 But this redeeming gift at last 
 A soul of your good charity 
 And grant a spirit room in thee." 
 
'Twas at the noon of Christmas day 
 The sun was at his little height 
 And I went singing on my way 
 Singing for freedom and delight 
 The mendicant who walked with me 
 Sustained a happy harmony. 
 
 And on the night of Christmas day 
 
 We two walked homeward through the gloom 
 
 Into the house I led the way 
 
 To show him to my inner room 
 
 'Twas then a wonder came to pass 
 
 He waited in the looking-glass. 
 
 Then I had almost shrieked for fear 
 That madness should abide with me 
 I turned about and / am here 
 My living comrade laughed to me 
 I am Thyself. Myself to Time's end 
 I am thy friend. 
 
MANUMISSION 
 
 Seeing you first, I had such pleasure of you, 
 As a landweary sailor has of the smell of the sea, 
 You were all I had desired through dusty years, 
 I will not have you bound to such as me. 
 
 I am not compelled by your most loving looks, 
 Nor by those pleasant arts at your command, 
 But when you disregard me, for your soul's unity 
 Silent I lay my life within your hands. 
 
 Can it be true I love you 
 
 Since I would never have you tied to my gown ? 
 I am less happy with you indolent in my sight 
 Than when I know you busy in the town. 
 
 Go you ! Free of your love of me 
 Free of the thriftless fret of small delights 
 Spend your brave days in fruitful liberty, 
 I have a dream for every loveless night. 
 
THE DOORKEEPER 
 
 Tread soft, ye stars and little winds lie still 
 
 My lord Berolf has cut himself a quill 
 
 Here on the board is a new parchment spread 
 
 And the long taper mocks the silken bed 
 
 I will have no owls to hoot among these bushes 
 
 No sleeping starlings doves nor thrushes 
 
 To change-a-leg-in-the-night and make a creaking 
 
 Out bats and mice with scratching and with squeaking 
 
 Back to your closes fairies sylphs to your ways 
 
 Elves to your hills and goblins to your caves 
 
 If near these precincts any woman scold 
 
 May a black palsy strike her dumb and old 
 
 Our lord Berolf has cut himself a quill 
 
 And by his might I bid this night lie still. 
 
 ,13 
 
MIRACLE 
 
 I bring you this word 
 
 Truly I was redeemed 
 
 Xot by God- Withdrawn but by living man 
 
 A man bred natural in this town. 
 
 He gave me great scope 
 For my faith and my hope 
 Since he was not of the scatheless, 
 But a poor sinner. 
 
 He gave me my need 
 
 A pod of dream-seed, 
 
 And he was not of the scatheless 
 
 But a poor sinner. 
 
 Such miraculous high things I dreamed of him 
 
 That I was quick redeemed of him. 
 
 I bring you this word 
 
 Truly I was redeemed 
 
 Not by God- Withdrawn but by living man 
 
 A man bred natural in this town. 
 
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