PR 6027 Jtfagic and other Poems By Hon. E/eanour Norton L THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES a Magic and other Voems By the same author : " APRIL LILAC " " POEMS " and other by Hon. El can our Norton London John G. Wilson 350 Oxford Street ^ W.i Ffoe hundred copies of this book were printed in S^obember^ 1 922 by 'The Westminster Tress. 037 To M. C. WITH LOVE 807558 THE greater part of these poems have already ap- peared in the following publications : The Even- ing Standard, Gentlewoman, Westminster Gazette, Lady, English Review, Daily Telegraph, Pall Mall Gazette, Poetry Review, Glasgow Mail, Sunday Times, and Englishwoman. To the editors of the above journals I express my thanks. Contents PAGE Sonnet in April i To J. Storey's Mother 2 Any Maid to Any Man 3 The Sanctuary 4 Penelope in Ithaca 5 Sospitra 8 Evening in Ross-shire 10 Narcissus and Echo 1 1 To Joyce 15 To Diana 16 Her Room 17 To Sir Edward Elgar 18 Reincarnation 19 White Iris 20 Piccadilly Circus 21 The Lake 22 Grief 23 Jesus 24 Nocturne d 'Oporto 25 The Sacred Woods of Bussaco 26 Dusk near Cintra 27 Aloofness 28 Intuition 29 T. H. L. M. 30 Lord Kitchener 31 The Offering 32 Set of Sun 33 To Mary 34 To His Maiden 35 To a Scarlet Flower 36 In a Restaurant, 1917 37 Desolation 38 Une Pensee 39 CONTENTS (continued) PAGE " Christus " To D'Annunzio Memory The Poet Mourns To a Child To Greece, 1916 In a Drawing-room Magic To His Lady Sonnet Praise One British Church To Keats " Roll of Honour " Richness Pain and Poetry The King's Address Life An Etching Wealth Greek Nocturne Kensington Palace at Dusk The Triumph of Earth gg " The Vale Called Sorrow " 72 The Wish 73 Escape 74 The Immortals 75 Pyrenees at Twilight 76 Appeal 77 "When He Came to Himself" 78 Illumination 79 Vindication 80 SONNET IN APRIL OTHAT my spirit blended with young Spring And of its loveliness became a part, One single beat of its resplendent heart ! That with the flushing woodland she might fling Her fragrance wide, or with sweet music wing Into the blue of heaven or might dart With all the pure and magic winds or start In clouds of rosy-petalled blossoming. Then, sister to the unborn jessamine, Twin to the lily's yet unfolded white, She would upsoar to altitudes divine And with the stars, in tremulous delight All in a solitude of silver shine Throughout the beauty of an April night. November, 1911. TO J. STOREY'S MOTHER YOUR story is a little one, And yet how sweet A story of delicious curls And dancing feet. Your story is a tender one Not two years old. And all composed of ivory, And pearl, and gold ! O like a snowflake or a star Or lily white Your story, whose unwritten page Is still so white. Vallombrosa. ANY MAID TO ANY MAN AS your hands have conquered me, Whose existence was so free, Beat, O beat those bands to purest gold, Never let your conquering Grow a pale and piteous thing, Slaying Love when Love hath ceased to hold. For beneath your shrine hath bowed Innocent and deeply proud, One poor, curious soul that waits to prove, How more pure and beautiful Than white lilies on a pool Dwell the silver sorceries of Love. THE SANCTUARY WITHIN a little, lovely room I live encircled by my dreams : Here glimmers gold a rose in bloom, And here a winged statue gleams. Within this sanctuary swings A peace inviolate and free, As tho' ofttimes on spirit wings, There passed the soul of poesy. How strange to think that where the roar And crash of London cannot cease, I like a pilgrim may adore This little Mecca of my peace. PENELOPE IN ITHACA ULYSSES, art so far away from me, That never shall mine eyes, (Scanning the lonely azure of the sea,) Hail, against Grecian skies And set in Grecian foam, Thy ship that steers for Ithaca and home ? Ah me, the long, intolerable years Since (clasping close thy child) Dumb with the rushing of relentless tears And desolation wild I waved a last farewell, Till round thy sail the summer twilight fell. Return for never since the world began Has it held love like mine, Nor lives there speech for uncelestial man, To make such passion shrine ! Passion so exquisite Only those liquid waves may utter it. Return, and from mine eyelids kiss the woe, The wisdom from my brow, How beautiful they were long years ago, How bare of beauty now ! (Ah, what shall bring again The rose of loveliness by sorrow slain ?) O, how I love thee ! Most thy god-like mien, Thy laughter-loving grace, Thy deep set eyes so tender, so serene ! radiant, royal face That shall remembered be, When Troy hath faded out of memory ! Where art thou now ? What unfamiliar shore Holds thee with subtle art ? What battle-cry what crash of crimson war Ensnares the kingly heart, That hath forsaken me And the low music of its native sea ? Ulysses hearken Till the long day dies My suitors whisper shame, Shrouding thine honour or with hushed lies Enshadow they thy name, Return, O King, return, Or will the Gods themselves with vengeance burn. Pacing within the sunset's heavy glow, How memory surges wild. O immemorial day of long ago When (still a dreaming child) 1 knelt beside the sea And gave my stainless maiden soul to thee ! While from this brow the violets I tore To make a purple shrine, And through the dusk that veiled the sacred shore I whispered vows divine, To be thy crowned slave Until the sunlight sparkled on my grave. Dost thou not hear my weeping ? Gods on high Grant me Olympian power To flash upon this man mine agony, And for one little hour Bid him endure the tears That stain the broken rose of all my years. Night rushes on the palace torches gleam And lo upon mine ear There comes a voice crying as in a dream, " Ulysses is not here ! " No sail against the stars Makes all my world bright against heaven's bars. Yet am I faithful faithful unto death. Lo through the Grecian night I prophesy with sorrow-laden breath My name shall be a light To all who wait like me Their own Ulysses through eternity. SOSPITRA * {Taken from a legend in one of Ouida's books.) BESIDE the sea, beneath the stars of heaven, Divine Sospitra wandered, and was given The beautiful and most transcendent power Of an immortal genius the dower Of two Chaldeans, who, as spirits, came And flung around her soul the unseen flame ! The falling waters stilled at her command, And the winds uttered not. Beneath her hand The flower unfolded ; her imperious eyes Spake and a wider glory filled the skies. For ages, like a splendid scroll unfurled Before her soul the secrets of a world. All sacred lore, all poesy, all art, Slept like a child divine within her heart. And the stars answered to her call, and told Secrets in silver, histories in gold ! As cycle after cycle of delight Rolled by to give her spirit deeper sight. There came a Wanderer to her shining shore Faint with all magic. Like that King of yore, Grecian Ulysses ! Lo her sorceries Fell from Sospitra ; for those human eyes She, who had mocked at love in every time, Fell from her height, star-scattered and sublime ! O never more a single rose became The symbol of the universe's flame ! Nor in the zephyrs of the summer sea Did she inhale divinest ecstasy ! The gold of noon, the midnight's purple bliss, All paled beside the marvel of a kiss ! O nevermore she stood a Spirit white Beside the sea, a sister to the night, Raising her pure and solemn eyes above, To silence and to splendour. Mortal love Burned at her being waking wilder fire, Beautiful hope, and exquisite desire. Then the Sad Stranger, of his wounds made whole, Wandered away, and lo, Sospitra's soul Turned to a cavern where the drip of tears Fell on the dust of sorrow. All her years Of magic rolled away, and she became Bereft of fire, and music, power and flame ! And by the sea she saw his ghostly face ! Whose smile would mock her in the dawn's cold grace ! Whilst on the loveliness of midnight skies The stars were only vanished human eyes. The lonely hills, the silent amber shore, Became to her uncoloured dust, no more. So died Sospitra, yet her plaint is heard In the immortal plaint of every bird. In the long wail of the unanswered sea Her sorrow speaks for all eternity. Eternity, that shall not dim the breath Divine, of love whose life includes no death. EVENING IN ROSS-SHIRE I WALKED the wonderful hills When sunset pours His wild and terrible kiss Through heav'n's transparent doors. Where million-mouthed winds, Divine and grand, Sweep through the desolate And lovely land. Beautiful heather spreads Unbrowsed, untrod, Primeval red of reds, Symbolic flush of God, And autumn girdled with gold And amethyst, Flashed through the fiery dusk Coloured the evening mist. The Spirit of Solitude On wings divine Stole, and her presence lent An arrogance to mine. I heard her magical step Like music pass, Then leave a murmuring sigh In each unearthly grass. The ghostly universe Grew sudden lit With dazzling of desires And visions exquisite. Illimitable heights And splendours wide Bade me to walk with God And I was satisfied. 10 NARCISSUS AND ECHO Scene : The edge of a stream in summer twilight. ECHO LOOK up, Beloved. Now the twilight spreads Across the windless plains, and hark the long Melodius lowing of the moving flocks, Floats in a chorus from the far-off hills. NARCISSUS Die not O cruel amber light of west, For when you fade then fades the perfect face, Mirrored upon the water's mystery. ECHO Beloved, gaze no more. The sky hath paled, So still the Universe that we might dream Great Pan were dead immortal Pan were dead ! But with the dusk, he, weary with the chase, Is laid on roses radiant with rain : Or stretched beside the vast and shining sea He pipeth to the stars. NARCISSUS (gazing into the stream) O Woe ! They fade . . . Into oblivion . . . now the clustered curls, And now the bloom of cheek. See, they are gone, O dreary night that stealing with sure feet Obliterates my daylight ecstasy ! ECHO Yet the delicious balm of night's embrace, The scents that stream upon her silent winds, Do they not please thy soul ? ii NARCISSUS (passionately) One single ray Of bright Apollo's golden bliss exceeds A thousand raptures of the dark ! ECHO O Love, Must I for ever hear the miracle, Of twilight mocked and night made sorrowful With thy complainings ? Chosen of my soul, I lean towards thee . . . NARCISSUS Lo the moon hath leapt Behind the hills, and glitters on the stream. And I behold mine idol through a mist Of silver reeds ! ECHO Beloved, gaze no more, Dost feel my balmy breath upon thy brow ? My tender hands that thrill within thine own ? Look up ! I bind my hair with ivy leaves, And on the whiteness of my draperies Strew buds that bear the burthen of my tears. Behold thy Nymph that trembles by thy side, Thy mountain Nymph thy Oread of wild moods ! Love pants within her voice tears shall not quench The flame of Love that lives within her eyes. Nor sad reproachings make less infinite The virgin love that sleeps within her soul. Is she not young ? Is she not wonderful ? The breathless Dawn ! The breaking Bloom of Spring ! 12 The breeze lurks in her laughter ! On her lips The red of buds the heavy emerald leaves About her shining hair. And all is thine, Echo, pursued by Gods forever thine, Behold thy Nymph Narcissus ! NARCISSUS (bending over stream) O dim face Whose lips the water lily bends to kiss, What potent wisdom broods upon thy brow ? O loveliness of centuries stored up ! Beautiful Marvel ! Poem of the Gods ! Silver-encircled Vision that hath power To tear my soul with aching impotence, Speak Speak ECHO (despairingly) Hear him, ye Gods, and pity me Who am despised for a shadow's spell, Scorned for a mere reflection's magic. Ah, He heeds me not ! Were every flow'r to be Drowned in my hopeless tears were every hill To sob in hollow unison with me, He would heed not, O Gods ! At flaming dawn Among the rounded fluting of the reeds And laugh of little ripples, he will gaze His soul away into these soulless eyes. Upon his face the glow of glorious dreams, As though through space illimitable stole The faint, Olympian singing of the Gods, And far-off harping of immortal hands. And I ... 13 NARCISSUS Away . . . away ... till lovely dawn, And the wild bliss of daylight. ECHO (weeping) O High Gods, Wilt thou have pity on my woe, and shower Sublime compassion on my loneliness ? TO JOYCE ( The Manor House, Little Sodbury.) I SAW you stand most beautiful and fair Within the ruined place : And lend to leaning wall, and crumbling stone, A flash of living grace, As when a single rose Upon the autumn foliage burns and glows. Beside the ivied arch where long ago Great Tyndall preached of Love, In lovely banquet-hall whose lofty beams Were interlaced above You looked through lattice frame Across wild terrace red in sunset flame. And I, who watched you, thought of all the hopes That once had birth, Where now are dust and silver gloom the prayer, The simple mirth. Pure Immortalities, That live again within your azure eyes. TO DIANA IF thou art great, then- 1 would have thee greater If thou art pure, I'd wish thee purer still ! O bid thy soul become the sweet translator Of all high poetry, so invisible To shallow souls. Thou art indeed a flower, Deep-souled and beautiful and yet, behold How each low sunbeam every passing shower May stoop to snare the splendour of thy gold ! Wilt thou become a star, remote, divine, That through the darkness of our mortal beams Most luminous, and living, thou may'st shine, Shedding abroad the splendour of thy beams ? For none shall fathom, seeing thee so far, That thou wert once a rose who art a star 1 16 HER ROOM THIS is her room where gleams the fitful light From autumn logs on loveliness supreme ; There stands her bowl of pansies purple-bright, There one white lily trembles in a dream. Her book lies open ballads stern and wild Strung by some mystic poet of the hills, Here gleams the bust of an Athenian child That with a classic grace the corner fills. There, one deep-coloured orchid hangs its bell Against her desk, close carved and stately tall, Littered with trifles, gilt and tortoise-shell, So delicate, so precious, and so small. O , all her genius and her melody Meet here among the flowers, and make her shrine Seem like a temple of the Gods to me, And she is Priestess, youthful and divine. TO SIR EDWARD ELGAR ( Violin Concerto, Queen's Hall.) OTHOU great Master, on whose modest brow We lay the wreath of laurel for all time, From thy grave soul what mighty visions flow, What lovely fancies, harmonies sublime ! Surely the voice of Beethoven afire With hope, the grandeur of Wagnerian art, And Mozart's radiant and divine desire, Are all rekindled Elgar in thy heart. We kneel to thee, and as thy music's flight Wings from the earth, and fades within the skies, We, too, are conscious of celestial fire Triumphant life, ethereal ecstasies. Thou art not made of merely mortal clay, Lo, Brother of the sea, the stars, the wind, Thy music shines from an eternal day And is the essence of Eternal Mind ! 18 REINCARNATION OFT as I wander down the modern ways, The puny buildings fade from common sight And are become great meadows wide and light Whereon the radiance of Apollo plays, I hear the singing echo through the glade, I see the altars heaped with azure flowers, And all the loveliness of Grecian hours (Beautiful Passion that shall never fade) Dwells with me once again, divine and wild, And blows around my path its perfume sweet, And then I know on hushed and winged feet The happy Gods draw near their human child. WHITE IRIS HOW white thou art how beautiful, How like a pearl thine open heart : Transparent shrine of all things cool, Cool and apart. O all who love the snowy cloud, The silver foam the dawn's delight, Must love thee, delicate and proud And passing white. O Flower, the pureness of thee seems Strange as the pureness of the sea : Wilt give me thine ethereal dreams And mystery ? 20 PICCADILLY CIRCUS WHERE the great lamps like jewels leap and burn Through the blurred brilliance of an autumn night, I saw the countless figures drift and turn And blend in one interminable flight. And as I watched the European crowd Surviving fittest of a million years, I marked Three Figures stealing through a shroud Of mist, whose wraith-like faces dripped with tears ; " Who are they then," I muttered in amaze, " Stealing unseen what phantoms of the past (Through all the roar, the rapture, and the blaze Of lustful human beings) flitting past ? " Theybackward leaned then " Hush," they whispered me, " Our names are Honour, Pride, and Purity." 21 T THE LAKE HERE is a lake but I forget its name, That flickers in my memory like flame ! Guarded by Dolomites whose magic glow Of red primeval merges into snow. A lake so beautiful, God gave it birth By melting one vast emerald on earth ! A lake so strange, that, did its waters part, Undine would be enshrined within its heart. And as with lovely sound the air may fill, Though chords are hushed and all the strings be still, So will this lake but I forget its name, Flicker within my memory like flame ! Costinan. 22 GRIEF 1 FOUND Grief gazing over quiet seas To where through dusk of night There sparkled one deep, solitary star Lonely and exquisite. I dared not look upon her hidden face, I thought to see her eyes Filled with the awful and unconquered tears Of all the centuries. And then she turned to me and in those eyes I saw a rapture shine More beautiful than Joy's ! How could I guess That Grief was so divine ? JESUS WHEN thou wert standing on the hill of weeping And red the sun of sorrow seemed to rise, When all thy Soul its silent watch was keeping, God saw the lonely glory of Thine Eyes. They were not wasted all Thine aspirations, Wonderful works and dreams of pure delight ; The royal-hearted service for the nations, The lovely visions of the day and night. Did Heaven mock Thy striving and endeavour, Thy ceaseless turning from the Tempter's lure, " The Kingdoms of this world are Thine forever If Thou wilt worship Me." Thou didst endure. O Son of Man ! and when Thy work is ended And every garment glimmers white as snow, Then, shall this universe by Thee defended Crown Whom it crucified so long ago. 24 The following three Poems on Portugal are dedicated by special permission to H.M. King Manoel of Portugal. NOCTURNE D'OPORTO IN this old city where the world is quiet, Where winds are hushed and all the skies are still, Where only sunset-gold and dawn's blue riot Hold silent sway o'er river, street and hill, I silent stand while, like a pageant, streams Throughout my soul her rich and solemn dreams. Dreams of the past, like rose leaves falling, falling, Lighten that soul then tremble and are dead ; Voices of old, like music, calling, calling, Though the inspired presences be fled That carved in coloured stone and marble white Still images of infinite delight. Oh ! like a silver forest pool that lieth W r ith many a dreaming lily on its breast, So dreams my soul, while all her sorrow dieth, And slow her wings are folded into rest. Till over Roman roof and ruined tower The darkness spreads like a celestial flower. THE SACRED WOODS OF BUSSACO T HROUGH these sacred woods there shine Influences half divine ! Not the sunlight, or the shade, Not the laugh of boy or maid, Not the sudden liquid call Of nightingale or waterfall, Make the magic Hope that streams Like a Presence draped with dreams Through these silent woodland ways Where the white camellia sways. But, because in olden time Millions deemed these woods sublime. Holy prayers for holy things Haunt them upon deathless wings. 26 DUSK NEAR CINTRA MURMUR and music of the sea Through gloom and gleam of pinewood tree And here and there the blue of ocean Between the spaces of rosemary. Far like a jewel Cintra lies Against the softness of the skies ; And in the distance, divine, and tender A shepherd's music recedes and dies. Now slow the April twilight falls And from the greyness of the walls Where swings a shower of mimosa The last, low note of a throstle calls. While through the perfumed plains and sweet There winds between the early wheat A peasant maiden scarlet-hooded Crushing the green with naked feet. Slender and blithe she, singing, goes Till once again the silence flows Through meadows wide and beautiful Where many a golden cowslip blows. 27 ALOOFNESS HOW lonely are the great things of Creation No star may touch another star, The winds of heaven blow in desolation, Each cometh from afar. It is a single wave that breaks in music Upon the bareness of the shore, The mists are lifted from the peak and leave it More barren than before. Because these royal forces are so lonely Is not my spirit proud to share The strangeness of such solitude, that only A God would bid them bear ? 28 INTUITION HOW beautiful you were how bathed in light, You were more happy than those Greeks of old Who, ivy-crowned in dazzling delight, Danced down the valley in the morning gold. How sad you have become. What murdered dream Has left you mute ? W T hat visions of despair Stream through you, as the leaves of autumn stream Like ruined armies through the woodland air. Ah, God ! How sad you are ! Like a spent wave Falling in noiseless foam upon the shore Or like a wounded eagle that must save His strength for death, and silence evermore. 29 T. H. L. M. Midshipman, H.M.S. " Goliath" torpedoed in the Dardanelles, May, 1915. Aged Fifteen. HE was so beautiful, so bright with bliss, A laughing blossom on the bough of time, And now beneath the ocean's dreaming kiss He lieth like a pearl serene, sublime. O Crowned Criminal, whose clenched hand Is crimsoned by a hundred murders wild, Unconquered Britain counts amongst her grand And countless heroes yet another child. And thou whose grief must make thee half divine- Dumb mother bowed 'neath desolation's sway, Weep thine immortal tears ! God sees them shine, They shall be jewels on the Judgment Day. LORD KITCHENER THEY came to meet him, those majestic Shades That in our ignorance we call the dead, Bearing the asphodel that never fades To set as crown upon his tragic head. The Poets circled him for in his eyes They saw the splendour that had lit their own, And the great Conquerors divinely wise Hailed him as brother from an equal throne. Ah, not in desolation dwells he now But with Imperial Presences who long To see the sadness vanish from his brow To make his sternness tremble into song. Britons be brave ! For he is very near This Holy Island that he held so dear ! THE OFFERING TO thee alone to thee alone I give my heart's divinest tears And all the goldness of her hopes And all the greyness of her fears. To thee alone to thee alone I give that living, central fire Whence radiate the deathless rays Of mystery, and high desire. To thee alone to thee alone I give the whiteness of the snows, The wildness of the winds, and all The richness of the later rose. To thee alone to thee alone I give my heart's divinest tears And all the goldness of her hope And all the greyness of her fears. SET OF SUN BEAUTIFUL is the sky In evening light, Above a sea divine That waits for night. Beautiful are the gulls That wheel and swing, And wild the western gold On everything ! But gleam and glow of earth Are grey for me, And life a single tear Because of thee. 33 TO MARY YOU are more beautiful than Grecian morn, There is a bloom of roses on your brow : And the rich breath of lilac newly born In magic freshness stealeth from you, now. Ah ! not for nothing did the high Gods give This gift of beauty, and amazing grace, But with Divinity they bid you live Because you carry Heaven in your face. And for those eyes that pierce the veil of things, And see beyond the emptiness of day, Around you is a fluttering of wings : They are not far those Gods not far away. Shall not their radiance within you shine Till the dim dust of you becomes divine ? 34 TO HIS MAIDEN I HAVE burnt incense at thy shrine, Thy shrine so beautiful and light, I have set perfume most divine And bowls of immemorial wine Among the blossoms gold and white. I brought to it my dreams impearled With tears made of the morning dew, Dreams of Romance when all the world Shone like a splendid flag unfurled And life was young, and passion new ! And I thy happy zealot chose (Because I so adored thy shrine) To pluck each thorn from every rose, And as a Knight beats back his foes Beat back each vision undivine ! Let not this homage grow less sweet, Nor all this ardour seem to pale ; See how I speed on eager feet With silver lilies, golden wheat, My adoration shall not fail. 35 w TO A SCARLET FLOWER HY must your petals vanish one by one, Anemone that bloweth in the sun ? Coloured like blood the blood great heroes shed, That sacred scarlet that enshrined red ! You fill my spirit with a strange desire For flaming visions, dreams ringed round by fire. Did some sweet, ancient God in sorrow's hour Let fall a tear that shaped into a flower ? Ah, could it be that down a million years You owe your beauty to immortal tears ? IN A RESTAURANT, 1917 ENCIRCLED by the traffic's roar Midst music and the blaze of light, The battle-jaded khaki knights Throng, sleek and civilised once more. Oh, one there was who, long ago (Three centuries or is it years ?) Adored the splendour and the tears Of London Ebb of London Flow. Oh, one whose very presence gave The common air an added grace, Now in our hearts an empty place And far in France an unmarked grave. 37 DESOLATION ALAS, what dwells there on this universe Less understood than Human Loneliness ? The low and baffled weeping at the grave, The last long look at little, silent limbs, The blood-stained bareness of the battlefield, Are symbols of her secrets ! Slow she goes, The torch unlighted in her trembling hand ! Her eyes uplifted to the starless night ! And those who catch her garments' ghostly gleam Flee far away fearing within those eyes The bitterness of her bewildered tears. Yet the Gods mark her she is not alone ! They one far day in some celestial place Shall set a crown upon her outcast brow, Shall see a smile upon her stricken mouth ! Ah, then shall Human Loneliness be called Heavenly Knowledge and her awful grief Be cancelled by the calm, consoling Gods. UNE PENSEE AS underneath the sea-foam's brightness Dwells all the depths of all the sea, So 'neath the laughter and the lightness, Lies my unfathomed love of thee. 39 " CHRISTUS " Philharmonic Hall, May, 1918. SCENE after scene before our eyes Unveiled beneath the eastern skies ; From simple shepherd's awed amazement To the supremest of Tragedies. And yet how bare the darkened hall, How few the Master could enthrall Out of the eager thousands, flocking To earthly altars, at pleasure's call. Herod and Caesar side by side Are still enthroned in ghostly pride Over a thousand Romes, when daily The wonderful Christ is crucified. 40 TO D'ANNUNZIO BEAUTIFUL spirit born of flame and light, When war's stern bugles blew across a world You called your country to defend the right, And lo ! her flags unfurled ! Then, having vanquished with impassioned words All the adoring nations one by one, You learn their magic from the amazed birds And soared into the sun ! Soar on, and conquer the unconquered space With feats of splendour, and of dizzy art : Soar on, and let a wild, heroic grace Gladden your poet's heart. For circling through your blue ethereal home O winged Son of Italy behold The ghostly Legions of Imperial Rome The flash of Caesar's Gold ! 4 1 MEMORY WHEN I am with you all this dim world dies ; Once more we stand beneath the sapphire skies Of old, immortal Greece, where far away The violet-smelling Mount Hymettus lies. Through what God-haunted forest do we roam, Breaking the blossoms of the dryad's home ? What dreams we dream beside the morning sea While Aphrodite, girdled by the foam, Calls softly to us in the deepening light ; Then, O my Love, with what divine delight We watch the glitter of Apollo's gold Flash upon forest, and on temple white. Do we not hear when all the world is still A lovely harmony from hidden rill, And see through ivy and narcissus bloom Diana dancing near some silver rill ? By the wood altar in the dusk of day, When the stars rise above the silent bay, Lulled by the odour of a million flowers Within the forest green we kneel and pray. Bright Eros fades from us with all the gleam Of woodland passion, and of sunlight dream, The smiles that glitter through ethereal tears, Those little, mortal ecstasies that seem More beautiful because they cannot last, But fade like music or as melts the mast Within some twilit cloud or as a star That trembles in the void, and then rs past. 42 THE POET MOURNS O SLAIN my Nightingale, No more she sings, Silent her silver throat, Broken her wings. O slain my Nightingale By thee by thee Who praised long ago Her melody. O slain my Nightingale, No more she goes Making more strange the star, More sweet the rose. O slain my Nightingale, Her music fled ; Within my soul's still woods She lieth dead. 43 TO A CHILD LITTLE child, little child, Out of heaven roaming lonely, Thou art pure and thou art mild. O of all His rebel earth His ancient, rebel earth, and wild, Those like thee must God love only ! He can look into thine eyes, Thou canst bear that look without surprise. 44 TO GREECE, 1916 BEAUTIFUL Greece, that like a torchlight shed Thy golden glory down a thousand years, With deathless Niobe weep frozen tears Because thy flag is still unstained by red ! But by inaction are thy children led, And by dishonour, and a myriad fears. O Land of Loveliness arise arise, Look back on thine immortal past, where streams Wisdom from Socrates forever wise All the superb divinity that gleams Within the marbles of Praxiteles ! G Land once shining with Homeric dreams, Regain thy greatness ! Let it not be said " Athens must perish for her soul is dead." 45 H IN A DRAWING ROOM ERE the soft sparkle of the firelight's kiss, There the red hell of some explosive's hiss. Here the pure breath of lilies breathing Spring, There Death's corruption over everything. Here magic chords of music hushed and sweet, There crash of cannon, or the tramp of feet. Here golden candlelight, and warmth, and peace, There the fierce winds, and rains, that never cease. O God ! What feeble gratitude we give To those who fight ! May they like Christ forgive. 46 MAGIC O THE RE are sudden moments when we stand Skirting the edge of some blue Fairy-land ! When calm is ours and loveliness and light, Some marvellous and delicate delight, The rosy radiance of a beauty thrown From some dim star, diviner than our own : Then the enchanted air of earth seems lit With drifting perfumes pure and exquisite. Then wide, immortal eyes gaze into ours, And hands more beautiful than summer flowers Are laid within our own. Oh ! in a breath Some God has flitted by, and banished death, And the wild fierceness of this life's distress Dissolved with His ethereal loveliness. 47 TO HIS LADY I WOULD we two could meet within the blue Of some delicious dusk, beside the gleam Of Roman violet Growing in gardens lovely as a dream. Or in some Alpine hut I would our hearts Might beat against each other's near the roar And rush of mountain winds Or beat of rain against the moss-grown door. Or on some golden island in the dawn Would I might bend and kiss thine ivory feet Beautiful as the foam, And than the swift Ionian winds more fleet. And best of all to watch your beauty laid On some rich Empire couch, in sleeping grace ,. With the dim, lovely gold, Of ancient candlelight upon your face. Yet wheresoe'er I meet you on this earth, Near mountain peak or by the Grecian sea What matters it, my Sweet ? For you are more than Earth itself to me. 48 SONNET WERE you immortal Helen who, when Troy Flamed for her sake, still dreamed her golden dreams Of pure-browed Paris and impassioned joy ? Or did you stand, by lily-girdled streams, As pale Francesca ere the knife of doom Pierced the young heart of Paolo ? Or alone, Did you as Juliet in the vaulted gloom With Romeo's dagger make his fate your own ? Perchance as Guinevere you rode through glades Of silver bloom whilst by your royal rein Lingered stern Lancelot ! What deathless shades Through your bright beauty come to life again ! For in your face the dim remembrance lies Of all sweet passion in all centuries. 49 A PRAISE I T thy beauty I am mute : Poets may not paint thy golden form when fragrances are f olden, So I lay aside my lute. II Beautiful thy brow, where gleams Glories of an age diviner than our own of visions finer Than our uninspired dreams. Ill As a candle flameth bright So thou makest life more splendid, dost restore the magic ended, Dost revive the old delight ! ONE BRITISH CHURCH " It is my most earnest wish that the Churches may come together and make a great unity for themselves for the welfare of the world. I want one great British Church." Sir Charles Wakefield. ONE British Church one sect one force one creed This only shall fulfil the nation's need, From whose disastrous, universal Lent Then must arise a dawn magnificent. Churches of Christ give answer is it well To sit aloft crying " We conquer Hell " ? And then, corrupt with quarrels, tear apart The Seamless Robe that should adorn your heart. With mock enlightenment ye veil your guilt ; Awake ! Awake ! How shall the ship be built Lacking a keel, and can the swarm survive When with a thousand blows you rend the hive ? O bitter, warring sects be one be one, Cease to be sunbeams, and become the Sun ! Unite in One Great British Church, and be The Ultimate Temple for Eternity. 5 1 TO KEATS OWHAT surpassing music is there here, Fluted by one who gave to English speech A form so lovely, and a sense so clear The world still stands entranced before each. Surely the Grecian Gods unveiled their faces And bared their beauty bright before your eyes ; Surely they held you in their hushed embraces, And danced to you beneath unearthly skies. Surely they led you to their inmost altar In some far off, immortal glade, and then (However much your boyish soul might falter) Taught you the secrets too divine for men. You paid the price ! Yet O your name is writ Across the heavens a rainbow exquisite. " ROLL OF HONOUR " 1914-1918 NOW in the splendour of the summer pride, When England glows and shimmers into peace, My spirit turns to you, who side by side Sleep in a million graves who reckless died, Spilling your blood that laughter might not cease. Doth not the star burn with a deeper gold ? Is not the rose more lovely for such death ? Because, unmurmuring, and glad and bold, You scaled the lonely peaks and faced the cold, We, who are left, may draw diviner breath. 53 RICHNESS SOMETIMES across my soul steal dreams of gold Of Grecian Gods and temples dim and old. O sometimes azure dreams come thronging deep Of lilied pools, and places full of sleep. Again my dreams are coloured like the heart Of some rich rose with petals blown apart. And emerald dreams, and dreams of silver grey Light up my soul, then fade and pass away. Pass far away like leaves on drifting streams. O Loneliness, how lovely are thy dreams. 54 PAIN AND POETRY OUT of the universe's wrongs, Out of the anguish of the years Doth Poetry shape her purest songs And bids them crystallise her tears. Breathe the immortal lines that glow From the great lyrics of the earth With awe, O Mortal. Canst thou know The loneliness that gave them birth ? 55 THE KING'S ADDRESS On the Opening of Parliament, February nth, 1919. PEOPLE of England ! Recently a Man (Within whose hand is giv'n by God to hold The greatest sceptre since the world began), Thrilled you with words of wisdom, and of gold. Shall He, above whose royal brow is set The ghost of Alfred's crown, implore in vain That you remember England, and forget The petty self in universal gain ? He hath not failed you ! Down four awful years He laboured for you understood your woes, Shared all your sacrifices, and your tears, Now when the Banner of the Lion blows Through an unconquered world will you betray That world enticed by Anarchy's mad lure ? " Fear God " and God shall give you greater sway; " Honour the King " and Britain shall endure ! LIFE TO grasp the grandeur and the glow of life, To seize the fervour and allure the flame ; To mount on wings of passion and of strife, Never to let dull praise and duller blame Quell all thy spirit's heavenly violence, Rushing more wild than foam upon the sea, But to imprison the ethereal sense Of Beauty and her moving imagery This this is Life ! O ye, who are asleep To the world's voiceless splendour, lift your eyes From stagnant death in life until you reap Diviner dreams a radiance more deep : Days that are fringed about with ecstasies ; Stupendous vision 'neath stupendous skies. 57 AN ETCHING r SHE sold her body, and the church's chimes Rang out most proudly, for she " married well." Her guests had half a column in the Times ; (It did not state she sold her soul as well.) Gazing at earth how could she see the stars ? Her husband gross, and prosperous, and placid Gave her three children and two motor cars (The latter fiery, and the former flaccid.) No ecstasy of life, no pangs of bliss Were ever hers no tortures of love's tears ; Her morning coffee and her husband's kiss Both held an equal value down the years. And so they lived, and so they died together Two birds that chirped because they would not sing ; To whom high heaven only spelt the weather, And Awful Life the " thing " or " not the thing." WEALTH I DO possess no wealth nor any gems that shine, No woven loveliness of silken garments mine, No halls that gleam with treasures, delicate and fine. Yet am I rich for I possess the summer rose : Ah ! every coloured petal that unconscious glows Into my dreaming heart its ardent perfume blows. And all the beauty of the earth belongs to me, Sun-gold across the land, moon-silver on the sea : Lit by the magic of immortal poesy. Each hour I am more rich than emperors of old ! What rubies radiate what diamonds unfold, Within my soul what blaze of unimagined gold ! 59 GREEK NOCTURNE IT seemed I saw in dreams a waving sea Of violets, beside a temple white Rosy in sunset light. Through this enchanted glade An ivied Shepherd piped mysteriously, And blithe and sweet A vine-clad Satyr danced on naked feet. Then rose the moon and beautifully lit The tiny temple, hushed and exquisite. A moment more I heard the Shepherd play, And then my fancy faded far away Where all pure visions fade Back to the Gods, who weave them unafraid. 60 KENSINGTON PALACE AT DUSK WITHIN the sapphire-coloured air I linger by the Palace Gate, And watch the leaves blow one by one Where royal coaches used to wait. Two splendid spectres hover near A Queen most beautiful and mild Who wove her wistful dreams around The figure of an unborn child. A King whose grave, heroic mind Gave England back her ancient power> Who built this Palace stern and square And bade its formal gardens flower. Stewart and Orange ! Even now These names diffuse such magic sound The autumn dusk in Kensington Seems to encircle holy ground. 61 THE TRIUMPH OF EARTH* A PHANTASY Scene : A wild and desolate shore by the sea. D SPIRIT OF EARTH I AY fadeth. Apollo sinks Over the sea. His gold Deepens, and dims, and dies. Lo ! one great star Silver and chill appears In the awful skies ; Not more alone is the star or wave Than the Spirit of Earth : Abandoned by Love to know Terror, and tears, and woe On this desolate shore, and wild, Love, who not long ago, Like a magical child, Smiled in mine eyes With delicate dreaming mirth, And folded in utter peace His beautiful wings Round the Spirit of Earth, Till the transcendental blaze And bliss of things Rounded into a whole, And my globe became A radiant flame Swinging in azure space A glory of loveliness ! 'Published in the Poetry Review, 1915. 62 And the shadow of Death's distress Faded away away (As over my infinite sea Fades the music of heaven's diviner day). Sadder than saddest wave, Sadder than drifting mist am I ! And so O god-like Love Because thy Presence is no more near And thy beauty no longer mine, Would I might sink down down Like some ethereal tear, Into the emerald vortex of the sea divine ! THE SEA Let mine enchanted green enclasp thee, Lay thy trembling form On my waves and summon My sublimest storm. Feel my spray crown thine immortal forehead, Catch my tears on thine enfolded wings. When my great soul swayeth, When my vast soul swingeth, Move thou with me, Spirit, As my billows roar, Crash, and curl and thunder To recede once more. SPIRIT OF EARTH Thy wildness and unceasing motion Shall soothe me not, O Silver Ocean ; Love hath abandoned me ! THE STARS We are the stars ! Our music is not heard By uncelestial ears, It rolleth throughout space Through bright, aerial fire To golden Saturn's throne. Lovely One, Lift up to us Thy tear-encircled face, And be thou soothed By our minstrelsy, Let not such heavenly music Slide in vain on thee. SPIRIT OF EARTH Thy music and thy light Bring no delight, Love hath abandoned me. THE WIND 1 love thee, Spirit rare ; Lean thou thy breast Against my rose-filled strength. And bid me kiss Thy piteous tears to rest. SPIRIT OF EARTH O Wind, whose loveliness Across my globe is blown, Thy healing holds no power, Lo, like a ruined flower I lie alone, Love hath abandoned me. 64 (LovE stands before her in a flash of radiance.") Wind ! O Star ! O Sea ! Shudder with ecstasy, Love hath returned to me ! LOVE I know thee not. SPIRIT OF EARTH 1 am the Spirit of the Earth. LOVE I have forgotten thee. SPIRIT OF EARTH Look in mine eyes, Great Power, Their depths contain a world. Touch these ethereal wings, Then ask of all the Gods If they have been unfurled Since Love abandoned me. Hath not all Nature's atmosphere Shared my vast agony Till th' elemental blood Congealed within her veins ? O unillumined sky ! O dreadful, swaying sea ! O dimmed tho' imperishable gold Of every star ! O streams From each cloud's bursting heart ! O disenchanted wind bereft of dreams ! O naked agony And universal pain ! 65 / Till Love should leave his heaven For the abandoned Spirit of the Earth Again ! LOVE There dwells a vaster Power Than me in heav'n to-day. And lo ! it is His Hour ! He hath commanded me To change mine ancient nature and obey His horrid mandate to destroy This globe's serenity Behold ! In the low, muttering skies a flame of gold Breaks into awful fire ! And hark ! A shriek of woe Ascendeth. Now Desire And Cruelty and Lust and Might And all the Gods have banned And all that Hell hath blessed Robs Earth of her delight. Rapine, and Murder, and the Spectre Death Blow their primeval breath Across thy globe. A flood Lappeth about thy feet, A tidal wave of blood ! And Justice from his seat Doth topple, and Despair Laughs in the hell-lit air. From the abyss doth rise Vast and confused Shapes ! Larvae of dreadful Things, Obscene Calamities. 66 And lo ! my sacred wings Sink through the slime, and trail Beneath the bloody mist Of hell's disastrous hail. Begone ! SPIRIT OF EARTH Thy wings are lit With a gleam exquisite From God, And hark ! O'er some unseen, unearthly hill There floats a chorus Of diviner sense Bidding my sphere to bow Beneath Omnipotence ! LOVE Close those impassioned eyes ! I strike thee down. Now thy predestined doom Rushes upon thee, Spirit ! Through the gloom Thy grief-distorted visage seems to speak Louder than dying shriek, Again again I strike, The Soul of Things Dies with the tremble of thy crimsoned wings ! SPIRIT OF EARTH Thy name is Love ! 67 LOVE Insensate ! Look at me, I whom the gods call " Love " Change into Horror Hate and Cruelty ! SPIRIT OF EARTH Thy name is Love ! LOVE Upon thy staring eyes I rain fresh blows. Ha ! Nature shrieks and dies, The amazed stars fall down, And all thy roaring sea Echoes the awful wail Of inconceivable woe, Unimagined agony. Thy globe is a sheet of flame ! And through Hell's hail The devils mock my name. SPIRIT OF EARTH That name is Love. LOVE Thy mountains crash and shake, Each huge, primeval heart With thine own heart doth break. SPIRIT OF EARTH (dying) Thy name is Love. ( The tumult of earth fades.) 68 LOVE (raising her from the ground) Thy dreadful test is finished, Thy awful wound is healed. Spirit of Earth arise. See what a wondrous calm Encircles all thy globe I hold thee on mine arm, I gaze on thy transfigured face, And like a child My gentle tears fall down. Most Beautiful and Wild, I have but tempted thee Under the awful and assumed guise Of Lucifer, To turn from me in hate. But Hell itself broke not, Nor could remove Spirit most exquisite Thy imperishable trust In Heaven's imperishable Love ! SPIRIT OF EARTH Love hath returned once more ! And all the comets reel With splendid mirth, Across heaven's blazing floor. (Beautiful Love, who goes From glorious sphere to sphere, Leaving a trail of gold !) Now like a giant rose, Earth breaks in light, Petal on petal, Furious fold on fold. 69 Her rapture taketh flight On wings sublime and sweet, Scaling the sun to make Eternity more sweet. O Wind ! O Star ! O Sea ! Shudder with ecstasy, Love hath returned to earth On gold, immortal feet. LOVE The Stars are singing ! Through majestic space Shine the enraptured beams Of Planetary grace ! Hark ! Hearest thou the rush Of Powers afar afar Giving supremer passion to each star Thrice-tested Spirit, Never did thine eyes Lose their immortal faith Tho' they endured Hell's reddest mysteries. O Beautiful and Brave, Soul of ennobled dust, Celestial wave ! Thy sphere shall roll through space Until it swings Nearer my Planet. Come, Spread thine ethereal wings And speeding cry, 70 " I am triumphant ! Dead my agony ! Earth having trusted Love By Love is given An orbit more divine In His divinest heaven." ' THE VALE CALLED SORROW " THERE is a Vale called Sorrow, grim and cold, O'er whose disastrous lake no roses fall, Where never liquid-noted throstles call Over the happy gold Where steals the rain as with a sound of tears, Where wails the wind like some woe-haunted thing, And where the spirit inarticulate Trails on a broken wing. Yet while 'tis there God purges it with fire (As gems are made through magic alchemy), And purified from every base desire And beautified, and free. It watches all the Vale of Sorrow shape Into a land of loveliness, and sees The ghostly likeness of the Son of God Standing beneath the trees. 72 THE WISH WHEN my last bar of music dies away, When the last petal trembles off life's flower, When I am drifting to my close of day In that unlovely, and yet lovely hour, Say only this ! Not that my soul was strong To do life's work came glad at duty's call, Say only you will miss me ah, for long Long after you will miss me. That is all. 73 ESCAPE TO-NIGHT I weary of human-kind And would that I might flee To the cold aloofness of the wind And the unfriendly sea. I need the strangeness of the stars And would that I might hear The song of birds, enriched by words Too pure for mortal ear. 74 THE IMMORTALS BEAUTIFUL May is here yet are we glad- Glad as the Grecians, when in forests deep They found the first nymph laid in bloomy sleep On the first bed of hyacinths ? They had Senses more large, more lovely than our own, Happier passion, and diviner mirth, For all the vine-wreathed wisdom of the earth From our contaminated lives hath flown, And down the centuries we lift our eyes (Bedimmed with knowledge and with dusty tears), Nor dream those Gods that ruled the early years Still crowd the spacious brilliance of the skies. Pan hath not silenced his immortal flute, Still flits Diana through her ivied bowers, Still Eros dances, ankle-deep in flowers, Within these heavens, motionless and mute ! 75 PYRENEES AT TWILIGHT I SAW the spirits of the mountain pass Where snowy summits touch the silver stars, I heard the rush of their immortal wings Storm Heaven's silent bars. I watched them hover over blinded earth (For Iris draws a veil o'er human eyes Lest they should see these children of the Gods Make beautiful the skies). I heard them singing then they passed from sight To some diviner, more transcendent dream, Leaving above the peaks a gleam of light And in my soul a gleam. APPEAL DOTH music stream from out the stars Doth magic brood across the sea ? Are the deep forests lit with dreams ? These splendours come no more to me. Spirit of Loveliness, return Unto my soul ! What light she flings Is dim and dusty without thee, She needs the beauty of thy wings. Wake her from sleep, until once more She in a golden radiance sees The glimmer of immortal shapes Between the laughter of the trees. 77 " WHEN HE CAME TO HIMSELF " HE leaned and looked within the crater's fire Where smouldered vice and vileness and desire. Then it engulfed him ! Ah, how many years He upward climbed, leaving a trail of tears Until his tortured eyes beheld once more The waves that thunder on remorse's shore, And lifting up those eyes, at length, was given Sight of the jagged peaks that lead to Heaven. ILLUMINATION OH, what a royal thing it is to bring A sense of beauty into every hour, To serve great Love as though he were a king, To treasure Truth as though she were a flower. Nothing of earth is trivial. Each dawn flames With marvels, while behind the muffled roar Of so-called commonplace, transcendent aims, Like music, rise from some celestial shore. Ah that we mortal citizens would shun All that belittles earth, whose Poet knows The ruby is as radiant as the sun, The star is no more lovely than the rose. The poet is earth's lover. In his eyes She brims with symbols portents ecstasies. VINDICATION (Written on reading Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's book, " The Coming of the Fairies," and dedicated by special permission to him.) A : LL down the dreaming ages, Through the immortal hours The Children warned the Sages Of how a Winged People hovered among the flow'rs ! And in earth's greenest places, And where the woods are wild, Betrayed their elfin graces To Innocence and Wisdom to Poet and to Child. Dancing in dewy hollow Whene'er the moon was gold, (Bidding the Children follow) In gleam and glint and glitter, from magic wood and wold. All down the dreaming ages, Though Elders scoffed and sneered, The Children warned the Sages How oft amid the roses transparent wings appeared 1 But now the earth returneth To cycles new, yet old, While deeper wisdom burneth And weds her silver science to poesy's pure gold. 80 The elemental caper, The sweet immortal wings Are prisoned on the Paper Which binds primeval vision to murk of mortal things. And Childhood lent by Heaven Speaks with a smile divine, " The Elders shall be given Those flashes of Enchantment which once were wholly mine ! " All down the dreaming ages, Through the immortal hours The Children warned the Sages Of how a Winged People hovered among the flow'rs. September, 1922. 81 g The Westminster Press 41 la Harrow Road London W 9 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-100m-9,'52(A3105)444 illinium A 000 555 459 7 PR Norton - 6027 N822m PR 602? N822m 'I" *l? ., A PY