Sadness

With horror dumb, tho' guiltless, stood
Beside his dying friend,
The hapless wretch who made the blood
Sad from his side descend!

"Give me thy hand; lov'd friend, adieu!"
The gen'rous suff'rer cried!
"I do forgive and bless thee too;"
And, having said it, died!

And Pity, who stood trembling near
Knew not for which to shed,
So claim'd by both, her saddest tear -
The living or the dead!

Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And constant stars in them I read such art
As ‘Truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself, to store thou wouldst convert’;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
‘Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.’

Not with an outcry to Allah nor any complaining
He answered his name at the muster and stood to the chaining.
When the twin anklets were nipped on the leg-bars that held them,
He brotherly greeted the armourers stooping to weld them.
Ere the sad dust of the marshalled feet of the chain-gang swallowed him,
Observing him nobly at ease, I alighted and followed him.
Thus we had speech by the way, but not touching his sorrow,
Rather his red Yesterday and his regal To-morrow,
Wherein he statelily moved to the clink of his chains unregarded,
Nowise abashed but contented to drink of the potion awarded.
Saluting aloofly his Fate, he made swift with his story;
And the words of his mouth were as slaves spreading carpets of glory
Embroidered with names of the Djinns, a miraculous weaving,

Arming down along the stream,
Along the sparkling water,
And past the pool where lilies gleam,
There comes the squatter’s daughter.

Her eyes are kind; her lips are warm;
And like a flower her face is;
The habit shows her bonny form
As graceful as a Grace’s.

O I’ll be mad of love, I know;
My head she’ll surely addle;
O Cupid, Cupid; get your bow;
And shoot her from the saddle!

For, like a bird on breezes waft,
She quickly, quickly passes;
O Cupid, Cupid, draw your shaft;
And bring her to the grasses!

O she is worthy game for you;
And there is none to match her.
So, Cupid, send your arrow true;
And I’ll be there to catch her!

Peter Wilson, A.R.A.,
In his small atelier,
Studied Continental Schools,
Drew by Academic rules.
So he made his bid for fame,
But no golden answer came,
For the fashion of his day
Chanced to set the other way,
And decadent forms of Art
Drew the patrons of the mart.

Now this poor reward of merit
Rankled so in Peter's spirit,
It was more than he could bear;
So one night in mad despair
He took his canvas for the year
("Isle of Wight from Southsea Pier"),
And he hurled it from his sight,
Hurled it blindly to the night,
Saw it fall diminuendo
From the open lattice window,
Till it landed with a flop
On the dust-bin's ashen top,
Where, 'mid damp and rain and grime,
It remained till morning time.

Then when morning br...

THE INDIFFERENT.

COME to the dance with me, come with me, fair one!

Dances a feast-day like this may well crown.
If thou my sweetheart art not, thou canst be so,

But if thou wilt not, we still will dance on.
Come to the dance with me, come with me, fair one!

Dances a feast-day like this may well crown.

THE TENDER.

Loved one, without thee, what then would all feast be?

Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance?
If thou my sweetheart wert not, I would dance not.

If thou art still so, all life is one feast.
Loved one, without thee, what then would all feasts be?

Sweet one, without thee, what then were the dance?

THE INDIFFERENT.

Let them but love, then, and leave us the dancing!

Langu...

[Original Poem]

Ich habe dich nie je so geliebt, ma soeur
Als wie ich fortging von dir in jenem Abendrot.
Der Wald schluckte mich, der blaue Wald, ma soeur
Über dem immer schon die bleichen Gestirne im Westen standen.

Ich lachte kein klein wenig, gar nicht, ma soeur
Der ich spielend dunklem Schicksal entgegenging,
Während schon die Gesichter hinter mir
Langsam im Abend des blauen Walds verblaßten.

Alles war schön an diesem einzigen Abend, ma soeur
Nachher nie wieder und nie zuvor,
Freilich: mir blieben nur mehr die großen Vögel
Die abends im dunklen Himmel Hunger haben.

[Translated Poem]

I never loved you more, ma soeur
Than as I walked away from you that evening.
The forest swallowed me, the blue forest, ma soeur
The blue fo...

I.

Masks

Death rides black-masked to-night; and through the land
Madness beside him brandishes a torch.
The peaceful farmhouse with its vine-wreathed porch
Lies in their way. Death lifts a bony hand
And knocks, and Madness makes a wild demand
Of fierce Defiance: then the night's deep arch
Reverberates, and under beech and latch
A dead face stares; shot where one took his stand.
Then down the night wild hoofs; the darkness beats;
And like a torrent through the startled town
Destruction sweeps; high overhead a flame;
And Violence that shoots amid the streets.
A piercing whistle: one who gallops down:
And Death and Madness go the way they came.

II.

The Raid

Rain and black night. Beneath the covered bridge
The rushing F...

I heard a voice - twas the voice of Spring,
Up from the rivulets murmuring,
Singing of freedom, - thus the lay
On the breezes floated away -
        "Joy! joy! - the chains that bound us
            Now disappear,
        Sunlight pours its treasures round us,
            Warm, warm and clear,
        Onward, speeding onward
            To the bright main,
        Chainless, free, unfettered,
            Are we again!"

I heard a voice - 'twas the voice of Spring,
Out from the hill sides whispering,
And a tender strain from the woodland lone
Blended with it in murmurous tone -
        "Joy! joy! - the world is waking
            From her long rest, -
        Earth a glow of warmth is taking
            To her chill breast, -
        Ti...

When one who has wandered out of the way
    Which leads to the hills of joy,
Whose heart has grown both cold and grey,
    Though it be but the heart of a boy--
When such a one turns back his feet
    From the valley of shadow and pain,
Is not the sunshine passing sweet,
    When a man grows young again?

How gladly he mounts up the steep hillside,
    With strength that is born anew,
And in his veins, like a full springtide,
    The blood streams through and through.
And far above is the summit clear,
    And his heart to be there is fain,
And all too slowly it comes more near
    When a man grows young again.

He breathes the pure sweet mountain breath,
    And it widens all his heart,
And life seems no more kin to death,
    Nor de...

Not heat flames up and consumes,
Not sea-waves hurry in and out,
Not the air, delicious and dry, the air of the ripe summer, bears lightly along white down-balls of myriads of seeds,
Wafted, sailing gracefully, to drop where they may;
Not these - O none of these, more than the flames of me, consuming, burning for his love whom I love!
O none, more than I, hurrying in and out:
Does the tide hurry, seeking something, and never give up? O I the same;
O nor down-balls, nor perfumes, nor the high, rain-emitting clouds, are borne through the open air,
Any more than my Soul is borne through the open air,
Wafted in all directions, O love, for friendship, for you.

Patience, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray,
But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks
Wants war, wants wounds; weary his times, his tasks;
To do without, take tosses, and obey.
Rare patience roots in these, and, these away,
Nowhere. Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks
Our ruins of wrecked past purpose. There she basks
Purple eyes and seas of liquid leaves all day.

We hear our hearts grate on themselves: it kills
To bruise them dearer. Yet the rebellious wills
Of us we do bid God bend to him even so.
And where is he who more and more distils
Delicious kindness? - He is patient. Patience fills
His crisp combs, and that comes those ways we know.

Is it your face I see, your voice I hear?
    Your face, your voice, again after these years!
O is your cheek once more against my cheek?
    And is this blessed rain, angel, your tears?

You have come back, - how strange - out of the grave;
    Its dreams are in your eyes, and still there clings
Dust of the grave on your vainglorious hair;
    And a mysterious rust is on these rings -

The ring we gave each other, that young night
    When the moon rose on our betrothal kiss;
When the sun rose upon our wedding day,
    How wonderful it was to give you this!

I dreamed you were a bird or a wild flower,
    Some changed lovely thing that was not you;
Maybe, I said, she is the morning star,
    A radiance unfathomably far -

And now again you...

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the best,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

'Tis sweet to think, that, where'er we rove,
    We are sure to find something blissful and dear.
And that, when we're far from the lips we love,
    We've but to make love to the lips, we are near.
The heart, like a tendril, accustomed to cling,
    Let it grow where it will, can not flourish alone,
But will lean to the nearest and loveliest thing
    It can twine with itself and make closely its own.

Then oh! what pleasure, where'er we rove,
    To be sure to find something still that is dear,
And to know, when far from the lips we love,
    We've but to make love to the lips we are near.

'Twere a shame, when flowers around us rise.
    To make light of the rest, if the rose isn't there;
And the world's so rich in resplendent eyes,
    'Twere a pity t...

No longer than what time Latona's twins
Cover'd of Libra and the fleecy star,
Together both, girding the' horizon hang,
In even balance from the zenith pois'd,
Till from that verge, each, changing hemisphere,
Part the nice level; e'en so brief a space
Did Beatrice's silence hold. A smile
Bat painted on her cheek; and her fix'd gaze
Bent on the point, at which my vision fail'd:
When thus her words resuming she began:
"I speak, nor what thou wouldst inquire demand;
For I have mark'd it, where all time and place
Are present. Not for increase to himself
Of good, which may not be increas'd, but forth
To manifest his glory by its beams,
Inhabiting his own eternity,
Beyond time's limit or what bound soe'er
To circumscribe his being, as he will'd,
Into new n...

    There is in the dance
        The joy of children on a May day lawn.
    The fragments of old dreams and dead romance
        Come to us from the dancers who are gone.

    What strains of ancient blood
        Move quicker to the music's passionate beat?
    I see the gulls fly over a shadowy flood
        And Munster fields of barley and of wheat.

    And I see sunny France,
        And the vine's tendrils quivering to the light,
    And faces, faces, yearning for the dance
        With wistful eyes that look on our delight.

    They live through us again
        And we through them, who wish for lips and eyes
    Wherewith to feel, not fancy, the old pain
        Passed with reluctance through the centuries

    To us, who in the m...

I listen, but no faculty of mine
Avails those modulations to detect,
Which, heard in foreign lands, the Swiss affect
With tenderest passion; leaving him to pine
(So fame reports) and die, his sweet-breathed kine
Remembering, and green Alpine pastures decked
With vernal flowers. Yet may we not reject
The tale as fabulous. Here while I recline,
Mindful how others by this simple Strain
Are moved, for me upon this Mountain named
Of God himself from dread pre-eminence,
Aspiring thoughts, by memory reclaimed,
Yield to the Music's touching influence;
And joys of distant home my heart enchain.