UC-NRLF $B ET7 TTfl •B -O "i SONGS IN CITIES AND GARDENS Songs in Cities and Gardens BY HELEN GRANVILLE BARKER LONDON Chatto & Windus 1919 Some oj these verses have been published in previous volumes now out of print. PART I SONGS IN GARDENS /c J r* ^ rr f \ CONTENTS PART I.— SONGS IN GARDENS PAGE THE princess's GARDEN II THE NARROW GLASS 13 TO SNOW 14 ARACELI 15 THE GARDEN ON THE HILL 16 THE BRIDES 17 THE WAYFARER 18 THE PLAYMATE 19 THE ADORNING 20 OCTOBER 21 LOST GARDENS 22 THE OWLS 23 ON THE RIVER 24 SONGS OF THE RAIN AND THE WIND 25 THE WELL OF TRUTH 27 IN WINTER 28 THE STAR 28 THE FORBIDDEN GARDEN 29 TERESA 30 THE UNSEEN GARDEN 31 SNOW IN MAY 32 vii THE POET 33 IN THE WILDERNESS 34 LAND 36 CECILIA 36 THE MIRROR yj THE ORCHARD 37 38 40 DISTANT GARDENS THE DOLL NOVEMBER FLOWERS 4I THE CAPTIVE BUTTERFLY \Z A PRAYER FOR ESTHER 43 UNITY 44 LAURA AND I IN A MEADOW 45 A SPANISH girl's LOVE SONG 45 M YRA 46 THE LAST HOUR 47 CONFESSION 48 PART IL— SONGS IN CITIES THE HOUSE 51 THE PORTRAIT 52 THE GENET 53 THE TWO OLD GRANDFATHERS 54 NIGHT AND THE CURTAINS DRAWN 56 MIDNIGHT 57 BEYOND KNOWLEDGE 58 HESTER 59 LOVE 60 A MAN SPEAKS 61 A LIFETIME 62 Tiii THE CANARY 63 OLD AGE 64 THE ARTIST 65 THE INSTRUMENT 66 IN SPAIN 67 INSPIRATION 69 LOVERS 70 TWILIGHT Jl THE NEW PARRAKEET yZ THE CAT THE NURSE TO AN OLD FRIEND TO FIRE AUDREY 73 74 75 THE CLOSED ACCOUNT 76 77 79 THE OLD AGE OF GERALDINE 80 THE STRANGER IN THE CITY 8I THE STATUE 82 NEW YORK 84 THE MANDOLIN 85 AMBITION 86 IRIS 88 HARVEST OF DREAMS 9O CELIA 91 THE STAR SAPPHIRE 9I A PRAYER 92 IX THE PRINCESS'S GARDEN PRINCESS, there are lilies in your garden, Stately lilies, white as candles burning, Roses, and the yellow helianthus, ■ Restless, toward the sun forever turning. Down the blue-tiled walks your feet may wander, Where the rose-beaked parrots lean and listen. Where the fountains plash in marble basins And the fragrant water-lilies glisten. Shade is cool for you and moons are golden; Tropic flowers for your delight are planted; Song birds, hidden in the tangled thickets, Fill the air with melodies enchanted. THE PRINCESS I would give my parrakeets and roses. All my lilies, all my silver fountains. All my blue-tiled walks and hidden song-birds, All the exotic flowers from fields and moun- tains, II For one wild grape spray that grows untended Quite beyond your ken, oh cunning warden ; For one wild grape spray — that's swaying lightly Just outside the wall that ends my garden. 12 THE NARROW GLASS FROM out my bed, no park nor grass I saw, nor shore, nor neighbouring hall; But, facing, on the panelled wall There hung a narrow looking-glass. In long-forgotten days it knew The transient shades that bore my name; Upon its antiquated frame Two crested wrens were done in blue. At early dawn, reflected pale, A strip of far-off Sound shone bright, And oftentimes, from left to right, There passed a little, rosy sail, Which I, just waked, in drowsy ease, Would watch with wonderment, as if I looked upon some fairy skiff, Afloat on legendary seas. 13 TO SNOW STRANGE divinity of snow, Eager other worlds to know, Spotless spirit, not of earth, What wild power invoked thy birth ? Wind-blown .from the clouds on high, Alien from the brooding sky, Thou desccndest, silent, free. Visitant of mystery. Thou hast known, untouched by bliss, Radiant dawns with rose-flushed kiss. Passion of the moons that waned Left thee pallid but unstained. From the naked trees down cast. Stirred within the icy blast. Subtle shadows, fair, untrue. Woo thee with ethereal blue. H I All the stars to thee have told Rapture of eternal cold, All the silent, ice-bound streams Made thee keeper of their dreams. Phantom victor over all Robed in white, resplendent pall. Mighty in thy shining power, Dazzling vision of an hour. None thy mystery may know, As thou camest thou must go. Fading god, by earth outworn, So in mist to heaven upborne. ARACELI N golden Spain I learned to love, To iron England then I came ; And, lost within the shuffling crowd, I never speak that Southern name. O Araceli ! (Heaven's high place) — Too sad I've grown for names like these They bring me dreams of Seville's courts. Blue fountains, birds and orange trees. IS THE GARDEN ON THE HILL A RE there still roses Z-^ In the garden on the hill ? Is the West wind blowing still Through daisies and asters ? Has a frost blackened All the heliotrope's deep blue ? Or are borders where it grew Still heavy with fragrance ? By the sheltering wall Does a tall delphinium lean To the dial on the green, Where suns write in passing ? Is a nightingale's song Heard before the break of dawn From the cypress on the lawn, Till the wood-pigeons waken ? No answer, dearest ! Only silence, and the sea. Between here and Italy, That garden and hill-top. i6 THE BRIDES WITHIN this formal garden plot White flowers may grow alone. 'Tis like a chapel, privet-walled, Where bees the mass intone. And through the calm, secluded aisle By sun or moon lit hours. They pass, in meek, unconscious grace, Processions of the flowers. Like brides, in dress of snowy white, All virginal and fair. They come to wed the summer days Mid incense-laden air. The childlike crocus of the Spring Tells here her marriage vows, And here the pallid hyacinth Most reverently bows. 17 Each day proclaims a flower most fair; For one would wed the rose, And one the shy anemone The frailest bud that grows. And so the candid brides appear And charm their fleeting while, Till Autumn sweeps the chapel bare With empty, wind-blown aisle. I THE WAYFARER WILL reach far down in the pit of sorrow And gather song. With the bitter past I will deck to-morrow. I will turn no cowardly look behind me But still fare on Till the glow of ultimate joy shall blind me; For I ask no blessing and no forgiving, The gain was mine. Since I learned from all things the truth of living. i8 /■■" THE PLAYiMATE WHEN I was a little sober cliild Sitting quiet, in a sheltered corner, I heard someone calling; Then there came a sound of racing footsteps And a wild sweet face Looked in upon me. I saw eyes of wonder, Lips of magic, And was frightened in my quiet corner (Frightened — but enchanted). " Tell your name to me," at last I whispered. " Have you come to be a playmate ?" But she never answered me, nor pleaded. Only tossed her hair And smiled and beckoned. What could I but follow ! So she led me on To gay adventures. Laughter and delight and childish madness. Then there came a time When playing irked me. I grew tired and longed for tranquil pleasures, " Leave me now," I said, 19 " Too long you've teased me !" She never answered. Then, v^ith doubting question, I looked deep w^ithin her eyes (Beloved playmate !) What I saw there made me fall a-weeping ; Shadov^ things I saw — And pain and sorrow. " We must part, before too late !" I told her. But she whispered with her lips of magic — Breath like Spring Upon my cheek and forehead ; " I can never leave you — Never leave you." THE ADORNING FIRE ! give me of your flame Of purest heat ! Rose, lend to me your breath Divinely sweet ! Star, make me fair as thou In skies above ! So may I venture forth To meet my Love. 20 N OCTOBER OT happiness, nor pain, But just a moment's rest from care A brief indifference to loss or gain. 'Tis good, the Summer done, To cease a while from torturing endeavour And sit here, passive, in the golden sun ; Just conscious of the sound Of buzzing wasps, the smell of russet apples, The dead leaves dropping, silent, to the ground ; The call, melodious, harsh. Of circling rooks ; the soft October sky ; The blue tide rippling in across the marsh. Assuagement now I find; Oh, fragrant world of land and sky and sea — More near to me than man, be now more kind 1 21 LOST GARDENS LOST to me forever more J The golden broom that blazed along the shore And flaunted brave in all the salt June sweetness. Roses, in their bed of mould, Where clipped box-hedges bound them one e of old, No more shed velvet leaves from their complete- ness. Where mint and rosemary grew. Sweet-basil, fennel,. lavender and rue. The leaves are trodden low — to ravage bidden. Immaculate and fair — The walled white garden blooms no longer there; Lily and phlox and flag in earth are hidden. I trod those flowery ways alone; The first wild joy of Spring was all my own. Frail cobwebs shone for me in dewy morning; The still pond was my looking-glass. Ringed round with iris, moss and meadow-grass, — To-day whose pale reflection is it scorning ? 22 THE OWLS THREE little feathery owls flew overhead As I walked down the frozen garden path; One on the chestnut lit, one chose the pine, And one a twisted pear-tree, bare and brown. There in the garden it was still as death ; Beyond the wintry meadows glowed the west, Rose that receded swiftly into grey; The little owls and I seemed all that lived. Softly I tiptoed near the chestnut tree. Two little shining, curious eyes looked out; And from the pear-tree two, and from the pine; I fancied for the moment we were friends. 23 ON THE RIVER THE forest is flame on either side. The misty, far-off mountains, Like iridescent bubbles, Seem tossed against the sky. A myriad tiny, pointed leaves, All rose and red and amber. Along the dusky river Float noiselessly and slow. Oh, infinite beauty, fade and die ! Of all the Autumn glory I only shall remember This argosy of leaves. 24 SONGS OF THE RAIN AND THE WIND FROM the sleep of fever I wake with a start And a sudden rapture. Outside, in the night, (O God ! the grace These short hours bring to me) Is my friend, the rain, Come to sing to me. Songs of far-off places, The grass up-springing, (Dear familiar places !) The smell of earth-mould. Salt marshes, drifting sea-fog And pine-boughs glistening; Of these the rain sings softly While I am listening. So when I lie awake In the prison of fever The wind comes to sing to me — My old companion — 25 Outside in the night he sings, His song is for me only, For all of the world's asleep, And I, in the dark, am lonely. Songs of the storm he sings And snow-flakes drifting. Wide fields, where once I wandered, And circling sea-gulls. He journeys free — the Wind — What's South or North to him ! He sings till, in weariness. My soul goes forth to him. 26 THE WELL OF TRUTH WHY lean so long above the well, And strain your eyes within ? The west is rose, sweet Isabel, The night will soon begin. The sun is gold as golden sheaves, The Autumn sky is pale. The yellow, yellow Autumn leaves Skim down upon the gale. " I lean so long above the well Because there lies within One hated good," said Isabel; " And one delightful sin." 27 IN WINTER SHE died, quite suddenly, at morn. I, weeping, fled that house of woe To find without in paths forlorn Her little footprints in the snow. THE STAR HE star danced in the lake, Uncertain, tremulous, Deep in the heart of the lake The star danced. T But far, far in the sky Serene, unchangeable. Fixed as the spirit of love The star shone. 28 THE FORBIDDEN GARDEN WITHIN the room for little girls Long time the little girl abode And there were many pretty toys And shining chains and rings and sweets, And picture books and puzzling games, And blue-eyed dolls to dress and tend — There played the other little girls — The room was full of soft delights. The little girl was not content Within the warm and sheltered room, She dreamed of gardens all the day. In dreams at night she saw them still; The wide, far-reaching garden walks Where never little girl had trod, The velvet grass, the rosy flowers, The garden's fragrant secrecy. One day the door was open wide, The little girl went out alone — How long she wandered no one knew. The other little girls played on. 29 At last there came an afternoon When looking up, amidst their games, They saw a child appear, and knew Their little playmate had come home. And now, once more, the little girl Seems quite content with dolls and sweets. But, ah ! her secret thoughts by day Her evil, haunting dreams at night ! For still she sees the garden walks Where never little girls should tread, The sliding snakes, the flaunting flowers, The garden's awful secrecy. TERESA A S walking through a country lane, Z-^ Teresa leaves a scrap of lace, Thorn-captured, ever to remain, Of passing loveliness a trace. So in each place where she may dwell A month, a week, or but a day. She leaves a bit of self, to tell Its story when she's far away. 30 THE UNSEEN GARDEN THE song of the unseen garden; Beyond the crumbling wall, Comes wistfully all the day time; When evening shadows fall Its murmurous strain, unceasing. Sounds still in palms and pines, And the wind of the Lombard Summer Stirs soft among the vines. The breath of the unseen garden Is more than thyme, or box. Than jasmine, or orange blossom. Or the clustered purple phlox; More than the scent of lilies, Or the rose the moon has kissed; — 'Tis the dream that evades remembrance, The joy forever missed. 31 I SNOW IN MAY HAVE vanquished the law of the hours And broken the bars of Spring: White I came to the whiter flowers, And a word from the clouds I bring. To die on a hyacinth's breast, And quench my longing there ; Untimely storm has heard my behest, I have conquered the paths of air. Softer than wing of the moth. Lighter than kiss of the bee, I touch her petals in lover's troth, And perish in ecstasy. 32 THE POET DISTRAUGHT, half -puzzled by the doors that close Abruptly in his face, Bewildered where the tide of traffic flows; Like one of other race : Unmindful of the hours or of the day, Or those who mock afar. He dreams forever of the rose in May He sees the evening star ! 33 IN THE WILDERNESS ONE windless morning, up where the Lake is lonely I paddled slowly, looking for waterlilies. When I saw them, deep in the cool blue water I thrust my hand, the silvery stems uprooting. Mine at last ! and a sun-flushed face I buried Deep in fragrance, waxen and snowy-petalled. Golden-hearted, lilies for Sultan's ladies — Drugging my senses to a deep oblivion ! At noon, among the ferns and the bracken sitting. Where the forest lane is warm in September sunshine. Near the path where moccasin flowers are growing. Where fire-weed burns, and blackberry vines cling, strangling. Round the straight and slender trunks of the saplings. There came, unbidden, stealing away my spirit, A sense of life ; it seemed its evasive secret Was mine an instant there in the flashing sun- shine. 34 Between the tall, black branches of forest pine- trees I saw, at night, the stars in their calm celestial ; Too cold they seemed, too pure to be appre- hended. Too fair they shone there — caught in the pine- tree branches. With beating heart I went to the fire-lit cabin, I could not look unmoved upon those shining Midnight stars, for clear in their changeless glory, I read of love — its need of infinite heavens. 35 LAND BACK to my mother, the Earth, From that stranger, the Sea; Deep in the hills to have birth, In the fields to be free; Free from the fretting of wave, From the hissing of foam, And fears of a fathomless grave; I am home, I am home ! Peace of the islands once more, With the scent of the sod, Dv^ellings of men on the shore. And the forests of God. Safe from the dead of the deep, From its drunken embrace, Earth, in your arms I may sleep ! I am back in my place. CECILIA I HEEDED not the bursting of the buds, Nor yet returning swallows on the wing. Nor yet the longer afternoons — but then Cecilia passed; and then I knew 'twas Spring. 36 THE MIRROR I LOOKED in my eyes And there saw, hovering, The frightened ghost of childhood — " Woman, Stranger," it whispered; " Remember me, among the dandelions, So eager, soft and dutiful, So full of dreams — What of you, sweet, tall one ?" I was silent. I could not speak to the little innocent ghost, THE ORCHARD THE orchard grows beside the Sound. In Spring I see its flowering trees Against the waters, wide and blue, That ripple in the April breeze. And when in Autumn, gold and red, The apples hang on every side Their fragrance mingles with the fresh Delicious saltness of the tide. 37 DISTANT GARDENS THOUGH tossed on foreign seas At stormy gloaming, Beneath New England trees My thoughts are roaming. Below an azure sky A park lies dreaming, And there my gardens lie, With Summer gleaming. The garden warm with noon And sweet with roses; A red rose falls, and soon A white uncloses. The garden, walled and old. Where white flowers only Drink deep the moonlight cold On midnights lonely. 38 The garden near the coast Where broom is golden, And sunflowers flaunt and boast, To suns beholden. I fear no sea-worn hours When dreams can capture From distant ways of flowers An earth-born rapture. 39 THE DOLL IN taffeta and silver lace The doll (that was myself) I dressed, I pinned a rose upon her breast And left her in a gilded chair. A tried, mechanic toy ; I knew Of old, that she could do and say All shallow things in shallow way: Then I fled swiftly from her ken. Pale magic of December cold Bound all the wood; and overhead A net of star-filled skies was spread About the pathway of the wind. Moon-shadows lay where, white and pure. The snow on rounded hill-top gleamed; And all that winter beauty seemed To breathe an ardent breath of June. When I rejoined that smiling doll ! One whispered, discontented word Within her ear was all I heard; " How silent you have been to-night !'* 40 NOVEMBER FLOWERS A RED rose hung on its stem In my dying garden. " Why are you here in November, Rose ?" I said. All around was silence and brown leaves moulder- ing, Burned box hedges and naked branches. But the one rose glowed in beauty And seemed to whisper : *' To bring you thoughts of June." 1 found a honeysuckle On a high wall blowing. " Why are you here in November, Honeysuckle ?" I said. Fragrance reached me, heavy as incense smoulder- ing, The curled leaf-tendrils in joyance quivered, And again, as if enchanted, I heard the whisper: " To bring you thoughts of June." 41 THE CAPTIVE BUTTERFLY IF I lie quite still in their net Good fortune may befall — They may think it was only a moth they caught — No butterfly at all ! But if once they learn of the blue And purple of my wings, And their flash, when the rays of the noonday sun Light all their golden rings; If once they know me the love Of the rose that sheltered me, And the playmate of all the garden flowers, — They will never set me free. 42 A PRAYER FOR ESTHER AS linden trees within this Summer garden Where all's in fair accord, Baptized with sun and dew, with bird songs joyous. So let her live, oh Lord ! And as a river holds the changing glories Of sunset, night and morn, Enriched with flights of dragon-fly and swallow So Lord, her heart adorn ! Preserve her mind a harp to all emotion, Itself, perhaps, as nought. But finely tuned, and instant in vibration To every holy thought. So may she live, at one with earth's bestowing In every joyous breath; And pass, triumphantly, the cloudy barrier That severs life from death. 43 I UNITY AM one with the blade of grass and the giant tree, The birds and the flowers and roots are a part of me. In vain within this, myself, have I sought my soul. It is absent, yet here, mere point in a mighty whole. The beasts, in their strange and sluggishly worn disguise Pass by — and I see my soul is within their eyes. For the wisest of men is twin to the earthy clod. All Life is but one; the unity — Thou — O God ! 44 LAURA AND I IN A MEADOW LAURA, look at the shining grasses J Here where the south winds blow ! Thronging the meadow, frail but insistent, Staining it purple and rose. Still the midsummer all around us, Misty the air — and sweet. Waves of wind flow over the grasses Seeming to break at your feet. Star-like daisies and flax are smothered All in this jungle of grass; A net of wiry stems would entangle Your feet, if you ventured to pass. But above the bees and butterflies hover Lightly on grasses and flowers — If we knew only this summer meadow What knowledge and joy would be ours ! A SPANISH GIRL'S LOVE SONG WHAT is warm in my veins like the sun in September; What swings me remote as the rose cloud above; What is yours to forget that is mine to remember? It is love, Rafael, it is love ! 45 H MYRA ER soul is a garden; In formal beds its fairest roses blow. Some vanished hand has made geraniums grow, And scentless orchids. Once pruned and tended, And trained in stiffly-charming, old-time bowers, They riot now — the frail and careless flowers That bud and perish. At night, in the silence, Perhaps a nightingale his heart may sing. Or furry bat, on webbed, fantastic wing. Wheel near the lilies. Walled is the garden. And he who seeks to enter comes too late, For chained and bolted stands the iron gate. With ivy strangled. 46 THE LAST HOUR WITH rocking trees and slanting sun the very last hour dies On golden marsh and sea profoundly blue, in rose-hued skies. My heart is restless, like the sea, and stormy, like the wind. Will love go with us, Barbara, or leave we love behind ? Oh, hour that stings with cold ! Oh, hour that woos with golden glow. That blinds with jewelled splendour of wave and cloud and snow ! Oh, hour supreme ! — when once your bright December sun has set. Will love be ours to hold, Beloved, or only to forget ? 47 CONFESSION MY joys I seek by lonely seas, My friends among the ferns, The wind absorbs my coquetries, The rose my love returns. The heaven of my hopes will be (If God such fate decrees) To give my life to roots and seeds And live again in trees. But if the burden of my Self I must forever bear, Oh, let it be by hidden streams In heavenly meadows fair; In fields which neither cherubim Nor saints nor angels know; Where daisies star the undying grass. And changeless poppies blow ! 48 PART 11 SONGS IN CITIES THE HOUSE SMALL the house, too small for an adven- turer ! (In it I was born, and here must die) From it I but see the habitations Of my neighbours, roofs beneath a sky ! If I lean without, at window hazarding, Curious unfriendly glances shine; (Such a paltry place I am inhabiting. Such pretence of keeping house is mine !) Prisoned so, a householder unworthy, Discontented, still I keep the trust Left to me by older generations : — Mine this house until it falls in dust. Dreams have come to me of space unlimited. Trackless meadows where the flowers shine fair, Day and night I long to be a wanderer Free to breathe the taintless outer air. SI THE PORTRAIT A HUNDRED years ago I faintly smiled Upon a world I sought, yet half dis- dained, Upon the loves I prompted, but beguiled, (Too wise to yield, too proud to walk enchained) I wrapped myself in artful mysteries Lest any dare interrogate my soul With bold too-searching gaze; I wandered free. Giving but half where others give the whole. But art divined my secret; with its skill It made my painted prison — here I stand, For every rake forever more to gloat. For every imbecile to understand ! 52 THE GENET JUNGLE sights and sounds and smells near the London street ! There I walked as in a dream, wearied with the heat. Scores of fierce, indifferent eyes watched, in helpless rage. For a liberator's foot and an opened cage. Then I saw a drooping head, pensive but alert, And a smooth and spotted shape, sinuous, inert, Meek white marks beneath her eyes, pricked and pointed ear. (This was no mere stranger cat !) And I seemed to hear. In some way I once had learned in an age forgot. With some sense untrained, disused, till I knew it not, Swift inquiry sent to me from a savage heart : " Sister, how did you and I grow so far apart ?" S3 THE TWO OLD GRANDFATHERS MY two old grandfathers sat before New England houses And looked over the fields of grain and wheat, The apple-orchards, the pastures, the woods and copses, The swamp land where cattle-prints showed in a black ooze. The stony hillside where sheep nibbled. And my two old grandfathers thought their silent thoughts. One, gentle, humble, patient, meditated On the love of God for men, his children; On the peace of a certain eternity. The death of self, the brotherhood of man; On pain as a teacher, and the beauty of holiness And meek submission to unquestioned creeds. The other, keen, scoffing, courageous. Dared to defy the minds of those around him, Protested, not by words but independent deeds Against the blind intolerance of fools, 54 Read his Voltaire to sound of Sunday ^church- bells, Smiled to himself, sitting alone, unasked for, At the disfavour of men — its weight and value. Here am I — my hands full of the spoils of cities — My brain puzzled by creeds and theories, Groping, bewildered, for truth and justice. I try to free myself, to rise above conditions. To think my own thoughts, careless and un- trammelled — But the thoughts of those two old grandfathers (Sitting alone before New England houses), Sway, alternately, my inner vision. I am held and hampered by conflicting forces. 55 NIGHT, AND THE CURTAINS DRAWN NIGHT, and the curtains drawn, The household still. Fate, with appointed strength, Has worked its will. Close to the dying blaze We sit alone; Nought but the old days lost. All else — our own. Far in the corners dim The shadows start; Near to your strength I cling, And near your heart. Dearest — the whole world ends — Ends well — in this; Night, and the firelit dark. Your touch, your kiss. S6 MIDNIGHT I LIE awake and watch the misty snow Blown wide in dazzling whirls Through which the street-lights shine; the windows glow Like great rose-tinted pearls. The Northern wind is now abroad; and roars, In slow and measured sweep, Like surf that beats, tumultuous, on the shores. To-night I cannot sleep, For hark ! intangible, and unafraid. The Future faintly calls Like overtones from carven bells of jade Enshrined in silent halls. 57 B BEYOND KNOWLEDGE ELOVED, once your pale and flower-like face Smiled suddenly in London's crowded space, A pleading vision, dreams within your eyes, And love upon your lips, in half-disguise. You, whom I loved despite of all your fears, Within whose grave lie lost my golden years, Could I but know that all with you is peace, Perhaps this agony of loss would cease. Oh sweet ! Oh, wistful, long-remembered, lost, What dread frontier those timid feet have crossed ! In some far heaven, is your smile less sad ? And has your little shrinking soul grown glad ? 58 HESTER THE richest joy of all her life had missed, The deepest griefs had ever passed her Her feeble search for good found little spoil, The hands which wrought no evil quiet lie. Exceeding beauty never crowned her here, Not love, but only dreams, within her eyes, How great seems now the worth of all you missed? Poor Heart ! so childish once, and now so wise ? Not tender, quite, in all her brief gray life. And yet with passing moods sometimes so sweet. Oh, friend, for whom fulfilment never came In life, was death decisive and complete ? 59 LOVE LITTLE darling, I love you so, J I watch, at every cruel v^ord's surprise, The mist steal slowly to your scornful eyes. The hot red colour sweep across your cheek, I see you tremble, grow more worn and weak — Little darling, I love you so ! What joy to know I have within my will Such force to hurt, such potency to kill You, frail and small, unloving, still I hold Mine, mine, to torture till your years are told. 60 A MAN SPEAKS OUR little, rose-soft sisters, — With laughing lips and tender eyes. Our sisters — made of dew and flame. Of sunlight, snow, and starlit skies. Drift on — for evermore the same. Our little foolish sisters, — Created fair, that love be born. And then to pain and torment hurled; To first allure, and then, forlorn And puzzled, face an iron world. Our little broken sisters, — Too frail to meet their evil chance, Who made them fair enough for love But all too weak for circumstance ? — The cry from earth to God above ! 6i A LIFETIME A MONTH ago began my life, And yesterday I died — " I know what life can hide Of bliss, of agony, of strife. A month ago I heard them tell Your name, till then unknown. And now the month has flown : — Last night we said farewell. 62 THE CANARY MY little yellow bird within his Chinese cage, That's carved with Mandarins and twi- ning bloom, Pecks, greedy and alert, a fresh green lettuce-leaf; Then, spying me, as I come in the room, He cocks a shining head and, hopping on his swing, He greets me with a shrill and friendly tune. The morning sunshine slants through latticed window blinds; So, for us both, begins a day in June ! 63 OLD AGE I HAVE finislied the rose days of love And the white days of youth — I have come^ by the road of Desire, To the gray land of Truth. And the laughter and anguish are one, In the shadow of sleep, I murmur of love — " Did I blush ?" And of pain — " Did I weep ?" 64 o THE ARTIST NE word — the finished line; One sound — a perfect chord; One touch — the tints combine. Alas ! a futile quest, The work imperfect still, The end ill-gotten rest. O Art — forever veiled ! O Truth ! — forever dim ! — And feeble hand — that failed. 65 B THE INSTRUMENT MY body in the dim, refracting lens Through which alone can knowledge come to me, With these poor eyes alone my mind can see, Through this weak frame alone it comprehends. Were I but furnished with an instrument Which perfectly transmitted shape and sound, I might go far beyond our present bound, See Truth indeed, and learn what Beauty meant. 66 IN SPAIN IN Spain the air grows languorous The suns more hotly burn And swallows wheel and turn Above the worn cathedral walls. Along the burning roads of Spain No traveller makes haste, Kedjaja round his waist — A drowsy muleteer may pass. At night, within the city's gates The shops are like a fair, Strange odours fill the air Of saffron, anisette, and musk. Then, noisily, a shuffling crowd Strolls up and down the street. Bold eyes with bolder meet — To hide again behind a painted fan. 67 In Spain, when pallid morning comes The bells swing wide for mass, And black-veiled women pass Stealthy and swift along the cobblestones. So long away ! yet one forgets The intervening years ; For you these secret tears Oh land of prayers, devotion and disdain. 68 INSPIRATION WAS there no single word you wished to say, O unforgotten dead, Ere yet you paused, and fled ? Some word unspoken on that final day, Forever, now, unsaid ? I sit alone on this September night, With useless, idle pen, O — wise beyond our ken ! For you I wait, O soul, that took your flight Beyond the world of men ! My mind is yours, your purpose to fulfil. And yours this mortal hand; I wait and understand — All my endeavour meets your spirit will, I write what you command. 69 LOVERS ONE waited, Age, the lover, Till Alice could be won. His hour would time discover. The hour when youth was done; O fragrant, warm and tender, Rose lips and hair of gold. To Age must all surrender, And Age will clasp and hold. But waited lover stronger, And over-bold and free. " My love shall guard you longer Than all eternity !" He spoke to Alice slowly, He kissed away her breath, She turned from Age, unholy, And fled away with Death. 70 TWILIGHT THE Avenue is heaped with drifts Of fallen snow, In driven icy mist the flakes Of crystal blow; And lines of muffled passers-by, Like mourners black, Move silent, stiff witb cold, along A shovelled track, Within, the air breathes roses, long In spices laid; The firelight shines on lacquered wood And old brocade. I see my image in the glass So still, so lone. It might be painted on a screen, Or carved in stone. Life, let me leave this scented room And wander free ! And know one hour of cold and dark And liberty ! 71 THE NEW PARRAKEET HIS little neck is ringed with rose, His narrow tail is blue of dye, He clambers upside down, and spreads The clipped green wings that cannot fly. Then, motionless upon his perch, He stares with round, unmeaning eye, Uneasily I meet his gaze, His soul to mine makes no reply. In what bright tropic was his birth ? What silent forest choked with green. What giant flowers, what sliding snakes. Have those round eyes unheeding seen ? What tossing oceans did he cross To take up residence with me ? To live his lifetime near my side, An alien and a mystery 1 72 THE CAT 1IKE caryatid, still as stone, J And black as ebony, the cat (Her tail around her toes curled flat) Sits upright on a cushioned throne. Benign and innocently wise She looks ; no thrills her whiskers stir, As glossy as a leaf her fur, As pale as moons her yellow eyes. But I have seen her leave the house All evilly, at early dawn. To consummate, upon the lawn, The murder of a young field-mouse. And when we sleep in chamber bounds I know she pads from floor to floor, And hears the landing clock strike four While still on her uncanny rounds. 73 THE NURSE SOMETIMES, when after endless days of pain. Our cries have grown too faint to reach to God, When the great solitudes of heaven's peace Re-echo back to us our shrill despair, Then comes the tolerant and aged World, And lifts us up upon her ample knees. Murmurs within our ears her foolish tales. And fills our hands with bright futilities. We know her false and trivial and vain. Absorbed in senile schemes and crude display; Yet, for a time, her presence eases care; A fond old nurse she seems, exacting nought But pretty ways, and mock obedience; She knows no ills her favour may not cure, So, looking up within that mellow face, We force a smile and find forgetfulness. 74 I TO AN OLD FRIEND F I knew 'twas the very day, Oh, friend, so far away. What thing could I find to say ? If I knew, that, in one more night. The world would pass from sight, What word should I dare to write ? Yes, though the hour had come, My lips would still be dumb ; — I should die as I lived, in sum. I should pass from my place below, The years would come and go. Dear friend, you would never know ! 75 THE CLOSED ACCOUNT GOD, I deliver up tlie arms You furnished me at the start With which to conquer a mighty world. Here is the cowardly heart ; Here is the feeble, woman mind, And the body, frail and small; Here are the senses, subtly keen (I render account of all). Here is the pride that bade me fight, And the pride which wrought me woe; Now I have given count of all ; — Into my grave I go. 76 TO FIRE OFIRE, thou free one ! Thou god unspoiled ! Attaining swiftly Where man has toiled, Thy formless glory No mind may see, Nor brooding fathom Thy mystery. Destroyer, Father, Creator, King, Thy raging beauty A living thing, In desolation. Bright wings unfurled, Thy barren pathway Lies round the world. All foul corruptions Thou makest clean; In flame they vanish To space unseen; 77 The shames of nature, The taints of earth, By thee transfigured Know airy birth. O force supernal]! O rose of heat ! Incarnate beauty, Unrest complete ! Remote from knowledge. Defying sense, Ah — whither speedest ? And comest — whence ? More strange than jewels. More fierce than hate, Consummate wonder, Thy flames create. O perfect passion ! O great desire ! Receive my homage. Resistless Fire ! 78 AUDREY AND so, at last, the veil drops off our faces. The love you found too passionless and ^ slight May lead you down to life's remotest spaces, May light you on till death's unbroken night. At this dim gate the love that you were scorning Stands, fragile still, but tender — if you knew ! — You who must pass beyond all love's adorning, Beyond all strong and weak, all false and true. Farewell ! impatient lover, done with living, Receive my helpless tears where low you lie, Rest now the pardoned as, at last, forgiving. This is the very end of love — goodbye. 79 THE OLD AGE OF GERALDINE NOW days of love are over, Now dreaming days are done, Here waits no other lover But Death, the Silent one; Now beauty's overtaken And age usurps the days, Here love leaves life forsaken, Here's parting of the ways. From out my glass, in sadness, A ghost looks now at me, Its smile is rout and madness, Its eyes fatuity. It views me still, undaunted. Where fairer shade I've seen; — A face that love once haunted. The face of Geraldine. 80 THE STRANGER IN THE CITY SOMETIMES among the weary timid faces I've learned as those of friends, The faces marked by cities for their uses, Their indeterminate ends, I see an elf-like smile and eyes of wonder, And know, with sudden start, A wanderer alien here, a joyous stranger From some bright land apart. Return ! return ! Beloved strayed from rapture, For hark ! from far away Come sounds like wind-stirred leaves, like falling water. Like birds at break of day. They call you back — where none are sad, or strangers. And where no world-wrought bars, With screening pale of precepts interwoven, Obscure the dancing stars. 8i THE STATUE WHEN last I drew the curtain The clock was striking ten, And groups of girls and men With voices shrill, uncertain, Went shuffling down the street. Before the cafe doors — A world the day ignores Found night and laughter sweet. There sounded harsh and loud, The horns of passing cars; Before the closed bazaars A juggler charmed a crowd. The dewy air, that woke A cool and leafy scent, With human taints was blent, With trails of wine and smoke. And what with all that scene, Tumultuous and strange, My fancy could not range To seek what once had been — 82 The past too vague had grown, The hour alone was good, On high the statue stood Forgotten and alone. But when the night was old And sleepless still I lay, I rose and drew away The curtain — and behold ! There fell a sheet of rain Upon the sleeping earth; Wiped out was all the mirth, And silence ruled again. And through the silver haze The lights, a glory, shone Around the hero gone, The dead of other days. Serene it triumphed there, The city's very own, In immemorial stone. The statue in the square. 83 I NEW YORK RON and steel, immense, uncouth, resistless, Here is the Town ! Labour and traffic rule it, wealth and commerce Weave its renown. Mighty in power, deformed, unlovely, sordid, Soulless it seems; Come, O ye poets, artists, seers of visions, Deck it with dreams. Crown it with rainbow images of wonder. Magic of art, Fruit of your brains and flower of all your fancy, Spoils of your heart. Fling o'er its towers fantastic clouds of legend And wild desires; Let it stand in the dawn and sunset, vast, trium- phant, Mid opal fires. Till it glows in the thoughts of men, a thing of wonder, Queen of its own. Girt with its shining rivers — splendid, swordlike, Venice outgrown ! 84 THE MANDOLIN HER soul was like a mandolin, inlaid With pearl and tortoise - shell and ivory ; On that slight instrument I sometimes made, In idleness, a tinkling melody. And often passers through the jostling throng Would stop to hear the ineffectual tune, — Half-sweet and half-perverse, — like insects' song That sounds the hot and drowsy spell of June. But now, with strings unstrung, the mandolin Lies half-forgotten: will there come a day When other fingers, placed where mine have been. Another worthless melody will play ? 85 I AMBITION TOOK my little Love from her place so still and warm, And dragged her forth with me, just to keep her safe from harm. The woods were dense and black, and the way was rough and long. It mattered not a whit, for my little Love was strong. Just once, amid the dark, and the storm that followed after, I heard a childish plea for rest and love and laughter. " We may not stop our course !" I exclaimed, in eager pride; " What matters weariness and pain when we are side by side !" 86 So dim it was and wild, with the rising wind and gale, I never knew at all that ray Love was worn and pale. I never felt her droop, till she slipped from out my hold, I never knew she fell — till I saw her still and cold. And now I journey on, amid winter's snow and sleet. No little clinging hand to check, no little lagging feet. 87 IRIS NEVER a woman — you say ! Never a wife — Only the rose of a day, A dream in a life, Loved, and unconquered by love, Remote, in your arms. Eyes for some vision above. Deaf to alarms. Love me or not, as you will ! Prison me fast, Mine is the victory still. Freedom at last. Love, with its tremulous fire, Burns in my heart, Still from a lover's desire I tarry apart. 88 Beauty the star of my sky, Visions my own, Touched by all joys as they fly. Still I'm alone. Love is the loser, it seems, If to earth it belongs. I am a daughter of dreams. A mother of songs. 89 HARVEST OF DREAMS A RRAYED, as if for sepulchre, l\^ In shroud of woven mist, Within the narrow gate of night, A shape of dreams I kissed. A love, born only of my dreams, And yet how rich am I ! I know the moon of joy that hangs In sleep's embracing sky. In cloudy, arrassed Courts, to hope And memory unknown. To pilgrims inaccessible. My heart received its own. One instant's space (or was it years ?) The ties of earth were vain; One pulse-beat (or perhaps a life !) And then I woke again. 90 CELIA HER fate to her was all surprise, She faced her tragic destiny With puzzled and pathetic eyes, — A butterfly blown out to sea. I THE STAR SAPPHIRE DREAM of twilight, closing softly down With veil on veil of cool, delicious dye; From rose to blue, from blue to violet, Then Venus — pale within the purple sky. 91 A PRAYER INFINITE Wisdom, Sanity and Holiness, Answering all who come to Thee in lowli- ness. Giver exhaustless to those who, selfless, plead, Give to my need ! Give me a knowledge born of sense and precision, Knowledge of truth and justice, power of decision ; Let me, in meekness, bid old faiths decline If new faiths shine. Strength of the body, mind, and spirit give to me. Let all Thy joy and beauty live to me. Let me not fear to laugh, and to rejoice With singing voice. And, when Thy will through stranger ways is leading me. Humbly I kneel for one thing only pleading Thee, Courage to face, unflinching, each new day, Courage — I pray. 92 PRINTED BV BILLING AND SONS, LTD., GUILDFORD, ENGLAND UNIVEESITY 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 50c per volume after the third day overdue, increasing to $1.00 per voliTme after the sixth day. Books not in demand may be renewed if application is made before expiration of loan period. . JAN.fi \m ^]2ii2$ f£B 45^^^^ F£B U '69 -9 AlJl tOAN DEPT, lOm-12,'23 ^B 31245 * « -r* -y rr 1 ! UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY ., /-tit r /j'i^^'/i^;.