Loneliness

Father Felipe

I speak not the English well, but Pachita,
She speak for me; is it not so, my Pancha?
Eh, little rogue? Come, salute me the stranger
Americano.

Sir, in my country we say, “Where the heart is,
There live the speech.” Ah! you not understand? So!
Pardon an old man, what you call “old fogy,”
Padre Felipe!

Old, Señor, old! just so old as the Mission.
You see that pear-tree? How old you think, Señor?
Fifteen year? Twenty? Ah, Senor, just fifty
Gone since I plant him!

You like the wine? It is some at the Mission,
Made from the grape of the year eighteen hundred;
All the same time when the earthquake he come to
San Juan Bautista.

But Pancha is twelve, and she is the rose-tree;
And I am the olive, and this is...

By W. E. Henley and R. L. Stevenson,
Haymarket Theatre, November 3, 1890.

Spoken by Mr. TREE in the character of Beau Austin.

'To all and singular,' as DRYDEN says,
We bring a fancy of those Georgian days,
Whose style still breathed a faint and fine perfume
Of old-world courtliness and old-world bloom:
When speech was elegant and talk was fit,
For slang had not been canonised as wit;
When manners reigned, when breeding had the wall,
And Women - yes! - were ladies first of all;
When Grace was conscious of its gracefulness,
And man - though Man! - was not ashamed to dress.
A brave formality, a measured ease
Were his - and hers - whose effort was to please.
And to excel in pleasing was to reign,
And, if you sighed, never to sigh in vain.

Bu...

After the event the rockslide
realized,
in a still diversity of completion,
grain and fissure,
declivity
&
force of upheaval,
whether rain slippage,
ice crawl, root
explosion or
stream erosive undercut:

well I said it is a pity:
one swath of sight will never
be the same: nonetheless,
this
shambles has
relived a bind, a taut of twist,
revealing streaks &
scores of knowledge
now obvious and quiet.

There was an old person of Down,
Whose face was adorned with a frown;
When he opened the door,
For one minute or more,
He alarmed all the people of Down.

When roads are mired with ice and snow,
And the air of morn is crisp with rime;
When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,
And bells ring in the CHRISTMAS time: -
It's - Saddle, my Heart, and ride away,
To the sweet-faced girl with the eyes of gray!
Who waits with a smile for the gifts you bring -
A man's strong love and a wedding-ring -
    It's - Saddle, my Heart, and ride!

When vanes veer North and storm-winds blow,
And the sun of noon is a blur o'erhead;
When the holly hangs by the mistletoe,
And the CHRISTMAS service is sung and said: -
It's - Come, O my Heart, and wait awhile,
Where the organ peals, in the altar aisle,
For the gifts that the church now gives to you -
A woman's hand and a heart that's true.
    It's - Come, O my Heart, and wait!

Down the picket-guarded lane
Rolled the comfort-laden wain,
Cheered by shouts that shook the plain,
Soldier-like and merry:
Phrases such as camps may teach,
Sabre-cuts of Saxon speech,
Such as “Bully!” “Them’s the peach!”
“Wade in, Sanitary!”

Right and left the caissons drew
As the car went lumbering through,
Quick succeeding in review
Squadrons military;
Sunburnt men with beards like frieze,
Smooth-faced boys, and cries like these,
“U. S. San. Com.” “That’s the cheese!”
“Pass in, Sanitary!”

In such cheer it struggled on
Till the battle front was won:
Then the car, its journey done,
Lo! was stationary;
And where bullets whistling fly
Came the sadder, fainter cry,
“Help us, brothers, ere we die,
Save us, Sanitary!”...

INSCRIBED IN "TALES OF THE OCEAN"

This first book that I ever knew
Was read aloud to me by you -
Friend of my boyhood, therefore take
It back from me, for old times' sake -
The selfsame "Tales" first read to me,
Under "the old sweet apple tree,"
Ere I myself could read such great
Big words, - but listening all elate,
At your interpreting, until
Brain, heart and soul were all athrill
With wonder, awe, and sheer excess
Of wildest childish happiness.

So take the book again - forget
All else, - long years, lost hopes, regret;
Sighs for the joys we ne'er attain,
Prayers we have lifted all in vain;
Tears for the faces seen no more,
Once as the roses at the door!
Take the enchanted book - And lo,
On grassy swards of long ago,
Spra...

    I.

Said the Table to the Chair,
"You can hardly be aware
How I suffer from the heat
And from chilblains on my feet.
If we took a little walk,
We might have a little talk;
Pray let us take the air,"
Said the Table to the Chair.


    II.

Said the Chair unto the Table,
"Now, you _know_ we are not able:
How foolishly you talk,
When you know we _cannot_ walk!"
Said the Table with a sigh,
"It can do no harm to try.
I've as many legs as you:
Why can't we walk on two?"


    III.

So they both went slowly down,
And walked about the town
With a cheerful bumpy sound
As they toddled round and round;
And everybody cried,
As they hastened to...

    My lady Wind, my lady Wind,
    Went round about the house to find
        A chink to get her foot in:
    She tried the key-hole in the door,
    She tried the crevice in the floor,
        And drove the chimney soot in.

    And then one night when it was dark,
    She blew up such a tiny spark,
        That all the house was pothered:
    From it she raised up such a flame,
    As flamed away to Belting Lane,
        And White Cross folks were smothered.

    And thus when once, my little dears,
    A whisper reaches itching ears,
        The same will come, you'll find:
    Take my advice, restrain the tongue,
    Remember what old nurse has sung
        Of busy lady Wind!

Answer me when I call
God of my righteousness;
In straights and in distress
Thou didst me disinthrall
And set at large; now spare,
Now pity me, and hear my earnest prai'r.

Great ones how long will ye
My glory have in scorn
How long be thus forlorn
Still to love vanity,
To love, to seek, to prize
Things false and vain and nothing else but lies?

Yet know the Lord hath chose
Chose to himself a part
The good and meek of heart
(For whom to chuse he knows)
Jehovah from on high
Will hear my voyce what time to him I crie.

Be aw'd, and do not sin,
Speak to your hearts alone,
Upon your beds, each one,
And be at peace within.
Offer the offerings just
Of righteousness and in Jehovah trust.

Many there be that ...

No,I'll endure ten thousand deaths
Ere any further I'll comply:
Oh! Sir, no man on earth that breathes
Had ever yet his hand so high.

Oh! take your sword and pierce my heart,
Undaunted see me meet the wound
Oh! will you act a Tarquin's part?
A second Lucrece you have found.

Thus to the pressing Corydon
Poor Florimel, unhappy maid,
Fearing by love to be undone,
In broken dying accents said;

Delia who held the conscious door,
Inspired by truth and brandy, smiled,
Knowing that sixteen months before
Our Lucrece had her second child.

And hark ye, Madam, cried the bawd,
None of your flights, your high-rope dodging;
Be civil here, or march abroad;
Oblige the 'squire, or quit the lodging.

Oh! have I, Florimel went on,<...

Honor and pity for the smitten field,
The valorous ranks mown down like precious corn,
Whose want must famish love morn after morn,
Till Death, the good physician, shall have healed
The craving and the tearspent eyelids sealed.
Proud be the homes that for each cannon-torn,
Encrimsoned rampart have been left forlorn;
Holy the knells o'er fallen patriots pealed.

But they, above the battle, throng a space
Of starry silences and silver rest.
Commingled ghosts, they press like brothers through
White, dove-winged portals, where one Father's face
Atones their passion, as the ethereal blue
Serenes the fiery glows of east and west.

Step wid de banjo an' glide wid de fiddle,
Dis ain' no time fu' to pottah an' piddle:
Fu' Christmas is comin', it's right on de way,
An' dey's houahs to dance 'fo' de break o' de day.

What if de win' is taihin' an' whistlin'?
Look at dat' fiah how hit's spittin' an' bristlin'!
Heat in de ashes an' heat in de cindahs,
Ol' mistah Fros' kin des look thoo de windahs.

Heat up de toddy an' pas' de wa'm glasses,
Don' stop to shivah at blowin's an' blas'es,
Keep on de kittle an' keep it a-hummin',
Eat all an' drink all, dey's lots o' a-comin'.
Look hyeah, Maria, don't open dat oven,
Want all dese people a-pushin' an' shovin'?

Res' f'om de dance? Yes, you done cotch dat odah,
Mammy done cotch it, an' law! hit nigh flo'd huh;
'Possum is monst'ous fu' m...

Soul, dost thou shudder at the narrow tomb?
Heart, dost thou dread to moulder in the dust,
To meet the fate that all things mortal must,
Strength in its pride, and beauty in its bloom?
What have ye done to merit nobler doom?
How used one life that ye for more should lust?
Time in his course doth all things downward thrust:
The unborn generations wait for room!
Blind we were born, blind die: yet we must still
Take God to task with Whither? Whence? and Why?
What if God, giving us our wish and will,
Said, “Judge thyself” to each! Who dares reply?
He knows the end who made the perfect plan,
Hell were too small if man were judged by man.

Old man never had much to say -
    'Ceptin' to Jim, -
And Jim was the wildest boy he had -
    And the old man jes' wrapped up in him!
Never heerd him speak but once
Er twice in my life, - and first time was
When the army broke out, and Jim he went,
The old man backin' him, fer three months;
And all 'at I heerd the old man say
Was, jes' as we turned to start away, -
    "Well, good-by, Jim:
    Take keer o' yourse'f!"

'Peared-like, he was more satisfied
    Jes' lookin' at Jim
And likin' him all to hisse'f-like, see? -
    'Cause he was jes' wrapped up in him!
And over and over I mind the day
The old man come and stood round in the way
While we was drillin', a-watchin' Jim -
And down at the deepo a-heerin' him say,
    "Well, ...

Here's the tale my father told,
Walking in the park one night,
When the stars shone big and bright,
And the autumn wind blew cold:
Once a giant lived of old
In a far-off country, far
As the moon is, where one star,
Golden bright and fair of ray,
Lit the people on their way,
In the darkness gone astray.

And this star was beautiful
As a baby's eyes of blue,
And as bright as they are, too,
Brighter, father said. And who'll
Ever guess what happened? You'll
Wonder when I tell you that
This great, ugly giant sat
In his den, among the bones
Of dead pilgrims, luckless ones,
Throwing at this star big stones.

By his side a lion crouched,
A great cub, who helped him catch
Men and women; keeping watch
Night and day: the giant...

You say you're young; but when your teeth are told
To be but three, black-ey'd, we'll think you old.

Beautiful stories wed with lovely days
    Like words and music:--what shall be the tale
    Of love and nobleness that might avail
To express in action what this sweetness says--

The sweetness of a day of airs and rays
    That are strange glories on the winter pale?
    Alas, O beauty, all my fancies fail!
I cannot tell a story in thy praise!

Thou hast, thou hast one--set, and sure to chime
    With thee, as with the days of "winter wild;"
        For Joy like Sorrow loves his blessed feet
Who shone from Heaven on Earth this Christmas-time
    A Brother and a Saviour, Mary's child!--
        And so, fair day, thou hast thy story sweet.