Death

How solemn, as one by one,
As the ranks returning, all worn and sweaty--as the men file by where I stand;
As the faces, the masks appear--as I glance at the faces, studying the masks;
(As I glance upward out of this page, studying you, dear friend, whoever you are;)
How solemn the thought of my whispering soul, to each in the ranks, and to you;
I see behind each mask, that wonder, a kindred soul;
O the bullet could never kill what you really are, dear friend,
Nor the bayonet stab what you really are:
The soul! yourself I see, great as any, good as the best,
Waiting, secure and content, which the bullet could never kill,
Nor the bayonet stab, O friend!

The train of equipage and pomp of state,
The shining sideboard and the burnish'd plate,
Let other ministers, great Anne, require,
And partial fall thy gift to their desire.
To the fair Portrait of my sovereign dame,
To that alone eternal be my claim.
My bright defender, and my dread delight,
If ever I found favour in thy sight;
If all the pains that for thy Britain's sake
My past has took, or future life may take,
Be grateful to my Queen, permit my prayer,
And with this gift reward my total care.
Will thy indulgent hand, fair Saint, allow
The boon?and will thy ear accept the vow?
That, in despite of age, of impious flame,
And eating Time, thy Picture, like thy fame,
Entire may last, that, as their eyes survey
The semblant shade, men yet unborn may say,

Long hosts of sunlight, and the bright wind blows
A tourney trumpet on the listed hill:
Past is the splendor of the royal rose
And duchess daffodil.

Crowned queen of beauty, in the garden's space,
Strong daughter of a bitter race and bold,
A ragged beggar with a lovely face,
Reigns the sad marigold.

And I have sought June's butterfly for days,
To find it, like a coreopsis bloom,
Amber and seal, rain-murdered 'neath the blaze
Of this sunflower's plume.

Here basks the bee; and there, sky-voyaging wings
Dare God's blue gulfs of heaven; the last song,
The red-bird flings me as adieu, still rings
Upon yon pear-tree's prong.

No angry sunset brims with rosier red
The bowl of heaven than the days, indeed,
Pour in each blossom of this ...

When through our bodies our two spirits burn
Escaping, and no more our true eyes turn
Outwards, and no more hands to fond hands yearn;

Then over those poor grassy heaps we'll meet
One morning, tasting still the morning's sweet,
Sensible still of light, dark, rain, cold, heat;

And see 'neath the green dust that dust of gray
Which was our useless bodies laid away,
Mocked still with menace of a Judgment Day.

We then that waiting dust at last will call,
Each to the other's,--"Rise up at last, O small
Ashes that first-love held loveliest of all!

"'Tis Judgment Day, arise!" And they will arise,
The dust will lift, and spine, ribs, neck, head, knees
At the sound remember their old unities,

And stand there, yours with mine, as once they stood<...

Thou shaking thy dark shadows down,
Like leaves before the first leaves fall,
Pourest upon the head of night
Her loveliest loveliness of all--
Dark leaves that tremble
When soft airs unto softer call.

O, darker, softer fall her thoughts
Upon the cold fields of my mind,
Weaving a quiet music there
Like leaf-shapes trembling in least wind:
Dark thoughts that linger
When the light's gone and the night's blind.

I see her there beneath your boughs.
Dark chestnut, though you see her not;
Her white face and white hands are clear
As the moon in your stretched arms caught;
But stranger, clearer,
The living shadows of her thought.

To thee, O father of the stately peaks,
Above me in the loftier light to thee,
Imperial brother of those awful hills
Whose feet are set in splendid spheres of flame,
Whose heads are where the gods are, and whose sides
Of strength are belted round with all the zones
Of all the world, I dedicate these songs.
And if, within the compass of this book,
There lives and glows one verse in which there beats
The pulse of wind and torrent if one line
Is here that like a running water sounds,
And seems an echo from the lands of leaf,
Be sure that line is thine. Here, in this home,
Away from men and books and all the schools,
I take thee for my Teacher. In thy voice
Of deathless majesty, I, kneeling, hear
God’s grand authentic Gospel! Year by year,
The great sublime c...

Once again my songs I sing thee,
    Now the spell is broken;
Brothers, yet again I bring thee
    Songs of love the token.
Of my joy and of my sorrow
    Gladly, sadly bringing;--
Summer not a song would borrow--
    Winter sets me singing.

O when life turns sad and lonely,
    When our joys are dead;
When are heard the ravens only
    In the trees o'erhead;
When the stormwind on the bowers
    Wreaks its wicked will,
When the frost paints lying flowers,
    How should I be still?

When the clouds are low descending,
    And the sun is drowned;
When the winter knows no ending,
    And the cold is crowned;
When with evil gloom oppressed
    Lie the ruins bare;
When a sigh escapes the breast,
    Takes us unaware;

“Then hey for boot and horse, lad!
And round the world away!
Young blood will have its course, lad!
And every dog his day!”
- C. Kingsley.


There’s a formula which the west country clowns
Once used, ere their blows fell thick,
At the fairs on the Devon and Cornwall downs,
In their bouts with the single-stick.
You may read a moral, not far amiss,
If you care to moralise,
In the crossing-guard, where the ash-plants kiss,
To the words “God spare our eyes”.
No game was ever yet worth a rap
For a rational man to play,
Into which no accident, no mishap,
Could possibly find its way.

If you hold the willow, a shooter from Wills
May transform you into a hopper,
And the football meadow is rife with spills,
If you feel disposed...

Once upon a time, I lay
Fast asleep at dawn of day;
Windows open to the south,
Fancy pouting her sweet mouth
To my ear.
    She turned a globe
In her slender hand, her robe
Was all spangled; and she said,
As she sat at my bed's head,
"Poet, poet, what, asleep!
Look! the ray runs up the steep
To your roof." Then in the golden
Essence of romances olden,
Bathed she my entrancéd heart.
And she gave a hand to me,
Drew me onward, "Come!" said she;
And she moved with me apart,
Down the lovely vale of Leisure.

Such its name was, I heard say,
For some Fairies trooped that way;
Common people of the place,
Taking their accustomed pleasure,
(All the clocks being stopped) to race
Down the slope on palfreys fleet.
Bridle bells m...

He found the road so long and lone
That he was fain to turn again.
The bird's faint note, the bee's low drone
Seemed to his heart to monotone
The unavailing and the vain,
And dirge the dreams that life had slain.
And for a while he sat him there
Beside the way, and bared his head:
He felt the hot sun on his hair;
And weed-warm odors everywhere
Waked memories, forgot or dead,
Of days when love this way had led
To that old house beside the road
With white board-fence and picket gate,
And garden plot that gleamed and glowed
With color, and that overflowed
With fragrance; where, both soon and late,
She 'mid the flowers used to wait.
Was it the same? or had it changed,
As he and she, with months and years?
How long now had they been estranged?

The blast skims
over the string
of takeoff lights
and
relinquishing
place and time
lofts to
separation:
the plume, rose
sliver, grows
across the
high-lit evening
sky: by this
Mays Landing creek
shot pinecones,
skinned huckleberry
bush, laurel
swaths define
an unbelievably
particular stop.

As often-times the too resplendent sun
Hurries the pallid and reluctant moon
Back to her sombre cave, ere she hath won
A single ballad from the nightingale,
So doth thy Beauty make my lips to fail,
And all my sweetest singing out of tune.

And as at dawn across the level mead
On wings impetuous some wind will come,
And with its too harsh kisses break the reed
Which was its only instrument of song,
So my too stormy passions work me wrong,
And for excess of Love my Love is dumb.

But surely unto Thee mine eyes did show
Why I am silent, and my lute unstrung;
Else it were better we should part, and go,
Thou to some lips of sweeter melody,
And I to nurse the barren memory
Of unkissed kisses, and songs never sung.

The Midnight wooed the Morning-Star,
And prayed her: "Love come nearer;
Your swinging coldly there afar
To me but makes you dearer!"

The Morning-Star was pale with dole
As said she, low replying:
"Oh, lover mine, soul of my soul,
For you I too am sighing.

"But One ordained when we were born,
In spite of Love's insistence,
That Night might only view the Morn
Adoring at a distance."

But as she spoke the jealous Sun
Across the heavens panted.
"Oh, whining fools," he cried, "have done;
Your wishes shall be granted!"

He hurled his flaming lances far;
The twain stood unaffrighted--
And Midnight and the Morning-Star
Lay down in death united!

In days gone by, the poets wrote
    Sweet verses to the ladies fair;
Described the nightingale's clear note,
    Or penned an Ode to Daphne's hair.

To dare all for a woman's smile
    Or breathe one's heart out in a rose--
Such trifles now are out of style,
    The scented manuscript must close.

Yet Villon wrote his roundelays,
    And that sweet singer Horace;
But I will sing of other days
    In praise of Clara Morris.

Youth is but the joy of life,
    Not the eternal moping;
We get no happiness from strife
    Nor yet by blindly groping.

All the world's a stage you know
    The men and women actors;
A little joy, a little woe--
    These are but human factors.

The mellow days still come and go,
    The...

    Two infants in their cradles lie,
        Where lullabies of peace
    In gentle strains of tender music die.
        And carols never cease.

    Two urchins o'er the meadow lands
        Are bounding in their plays,
    Where sweet enjoyment with angelic hands
        Winds gladness o'er the days.

    Two boys, where golden fancies bless,
        Repose in sunny beams,
    And muse away the hours of happiness
        On couches made of dreams.

    Two men upon a summer sea
        Are toiling, brave and strong,
    Where pleasures roll their elfin harmony
        And labor ends in song.

    Two gray-haired sages, silvered o'er,
        In life meet once again,
    To name the wondrous happiness they bore
        Amon...

The beauty of Israel is slain on thy mountains,
The mighty are low, and how great is their fall,
But tell not our grief in Gath, by the fountains,
And publish it not within Askelon's wall,
Lest the Philistines' daughters shall mock at our sorrow,
And triumph in gladness o'er us in our pain,
And sound all their timbrels and harps on the morrow,
While here we are sore, in lamenting our slain.

Oh! Gilboa's mountains, from now and forever,
Let moisture, which falleth as rain, or as dew,
Come down on thy parch'd, burning summits, oh, never,
For the shield of the mighty is cast upon you.
From the blood of the slain, from the fat of the highest,
The bow of fair Jonathan never did quail,
And the sword of his father, in danger the highest,
Went forth to brave deeds, l...

Despair is in the suns that shine,
    And in the rains that fall,
This sad forsaken soul of mine
    Is weary of them all.

They fall and shine on alien streets
    From those I love and know.
I cannot hear amid the heats
    The North Sea's freshening flow

The people hurry up and down,
    Like ghosts that cannot lie;
And wandering through the phantom town
    The weariest ghost am I.

Across a world where all men grieve
And grieving strive the more,
The great days range like tides and leave
Our dead on every shore.
Heavy the load we undergo,
And our own hands prepare,
If we have parley with the foe,
The load our sons must bear.
Before we loose the word
That bids new worlds to birth,
Needs must we loosen first the sword
Of Justice upon earth;
Or else all else is vain
Since life on earth began,
And the spent world sinks back again
Hopeless of God and Man.
A People and their King
Through ancient sin grown strong,
Because they feared no reckoning
Would set no bound to wrong;
But now their hour is past,
And we who bore it find Evil
Incarnate hell at last
To answer to mankind.
For agony and spoil
Of na...