THE TWO BLIND COUNTRIES

BT

THE

SAME

AUTHOR

NOVELS

THE

LEE

SHORE

ABBOTS

VERNEY

THE

VALLEY

CAPTIVES

THE

FURNACE

THE

SECRET RIVER

PR

629353

TO

NOTE

A

GOOD

_many

of these

poems

have

appearedbeforein

The

Saturday West-minster, onein The Spectator,

and one

in _{The Cambridge Magazine.} I

have

to thank the editors of these _papers for_permissionto reprintthem.

CONTENTS

PAGE

THE

ALIEN . . i TRINITY SUNDAY . . .

.3

KEYLESS . . . .

.5

THE

DEVOURERS .

...

7

THE

THIEF - - . . . . g ST. MARK'S

DAY

- - . . -

n

THE DOOR

- _. I3

THE

LOSERS - - - -15 CARDS - - - - -17

SUMMONS

. . . _jg

THE

CITY ON THE LEE SHORE . .

-21

THREE

- . . . . 23 EPIPHANY - - - - ₂₇ EMPTINESS - - - ₂₈ FOREGROUNDS -. 2g

ON

CRYING FOR THE

MOON

- -

-31

THE

BLACK ARMIES

-.

32

FEAR . -

-34

THE

TRAMPS'

HIGHWAY

. .

36

MOONKISE - . . -

--38

CONTENTS

PAGE

MURDER

-39

THE

FLAME - -40 COMPLETION -

_-41

A

LIGURIAN VALENTINE -44

A

CITY IN THE

NORTH

-45 SONG OF THE LITTLE FLEET-

-46 TURNING BACK 48 PEACE AND THE BUILDER 50

THE

DEBT 51

Two

HYMNS

FOR ST. ANDREW'S

DAY

-52

HANDS

- - , -55

THE

NKW

YEAR -57

THE OLD

YEAR

...

.

.58

THE

ALIEN

MAZILY wandering

through a blind land,

As

asailor_{gropes astrange shore,} Continually

would

he stop

and

stand,

His

eartoadoor.

Shadows

and

drollshapesthronged

him

about,

But

he cared

no

whit for

them

all;

He,

all aloneinthat_crazy rout,

Heard

_through the wall.

As

the sea beats

on

_{a fog-bound}

beach

A

_{clamorous whispering}broke,

And

_{against the}

shaken

door surgedthe muffled speech

Of

a worldof folk.

But and

if_they called

him

_they

were

not heard,

And

he

_might

_cryto

them

in vain;

Between them and

him

not the least small

word

Could

_passagain.

Only

through a crack in the door's blind face

He

would

reach a _{thieving hand,}

But

hisclosed

hand

came

back_emptily,

As

a

dream

_{drops from}

him

who

wakes

;

And

_naught

might

he

know

but

how

a

muffled

sea

In _whispersbreaks.

On

eitherside of_{a gray} barrier

The

two

blind countrieslie;

But

he

knew

not

which

held

him

_prisoner,

TRINITY

SUNDAY

As

I

walked

in _Petty

_{Cury on}

_Trinity

_Day,

While

thecuckoos in the fields did shout, Right through the city stole the breath of the

may,

And

the scarlet doctorsall about

Lifted

_up

their heads tosnuffat _{the breeze,}

And

_{forgot they}

were

bound

for Great

St-Mary's

To

listen toa

sermon from

the

Master

of Caius,

And

"

_How

balmy," theysaid, "theairis !"

And

_balmy

it

was

;

and

the sweetbellsrocking

Shook

ittill itrent in

two

And

fell,a tornveil;

and

like

maniacs mocking

The

_{wild things}

from

without peered through.

Wild

wet

things that

swam

in _King's

Parade

The

_days it

was

a

_marshy

fen,

Through

the rent veil_theydid_sprawl

and

wade

Blind bog-beasts

and Ugrian men.

And

the_city

was

not. (For citiesare

_wrought

Of

the stuffofthe world'slive brain. Citiesare thin_veils,

woven

_{of thought,}

And

_{thought, breaking,} rends

them

in

And

the fens

were

not. _(For fensare

dreams

Dreamt

_by

arace longdead;

And

the earth is_naught,

and

thesun but

seems

:

And

so those

who

know

havesaid.)

So

veil

_beyond

veil _inimitablylifted:

And

I

saw

the world's

naked

face,

Before, reeling

and

baffled

and

blind, I drifted

Back

within the

bounds

of space.

I

have

_{forgot the unforgettable.}

All of

_{honey and}

milk theair is.

God

send I

do

_forget. . . .

The

_{merry winds}

swell

KEYLESS

LIKE

alost child

_my

_{strayed soul}drifted

Back

from

the lit, intelligible

ways

Into theold, dim, environing

maze

Where

remote _passions

and shadows

shifted.

At

the coldbreaththat the

dawn

set stirring

My

clear _thought shrivelled,

and

shudderingly curled

Back

from

_{the gray, inexplicable}world

That

thrust a soft

hand

_through casements, blurring

The

dark

and

the

dream

;

and

with strange faces Faint

brown

pictures

from

a blue wall

Peeredat

me

_palely;

and

solemn, small

Voices _ticked,elf-like,

from

hidden places.

And

life

was

a_{strangetongue long unspoken,} Difficult,unimaginable. . . .

(So

might

thelost souls _grope in hell

For

some

known

word,

and

findall _broken.)

The

earth

hummed

low, like abig topspinning,

And

_my

soul

was

a_shivering drift ofdust

Caught and

held in thesmall cold _gust

Breathingsoftbreaths the_{gray world waited}

(Swung

between _{the night}

and

the

new

strange light)

For

the_{opening door}to_giveto_sight

The

incomprehensible, dim,fast-gated

House

of day, so crazy

and

dusty.

The dawn

wind

_dropped.

The

_{gray turned}blue.

Sudden

in the

_paddock

the old _{cock crew,}

THE DEVOURERS

CAMBRIDGE

town

is a beleaguered city;

For

south

and

north, like asea,

There

beat

on

its_gates, without haste orpity,

The

downs

and

the fen country.

Cambridge

towers, soold, so wise,

They

were

builded but _yesterday,

Watched

by

sleepygray secret eyes

That

smiled asatchildren's_play.

Roads

southof

_Cambridge

runinto the waste,

Where

learning

and lamps

are not,

And

the pale

downs

tumble, blind, chalk-faced,

And

the_{brooding churchessquat.}

Roads

northof

_{Cambridge march}

_{through a}plain Levellikethetraitor sea.

It will swallow its _ships,

and

turn

and

smile again

The

insatiable_{fen country.}

Lest the

downs

and

the fens should eat

Cam-bridge up,

And

itstowers be tossed

and

thrown,

And

itsrich

wine drunk

from its broken _cup,

And

its _beauty

no more

known

Let us come,

you and

I,

where

the roads run

blind,

Out beyond

the transient_city,

That

ourlove, mingling withearth,

may

find

THE

THIEF

WHEN

the _pathsof

dream

were

mist-muffled,

And

thehours

were dim and

small

(Through

still_nights

on wet

orchardgrass

Like

rain _{the apples}fall),

Then

naked-footed, secretly,

The

thief_{dropped over}thewall.

Apple-boughs

spattered mist athim,

The

dawn was

as cold as death,

With

a_{stealthy joy}atthe heart of it,

And

thestirofa small sweetbreath,

And

a robinbreaking his heart

on

_song

As

a

_young

child sorroweth.

The

thief's feet bruised

wet

lavender Into_{sweet sharp} surprise ;

The

orchard, fullof_pears

and

joy,

Smiled

like_{a gold} sunrise;

But

the blindhouse stared

down

on

him

With

strange, white-lidded eyes.

He

stoodatthe world's secret heart In the haze-

_{wrapt mystery}

;

And

fat _pears,

mellow on

thelip,

He

_supped

like _{a honey-bee;}

But

_{the apples}

he crunched

_{with sharp white}

teeth

And

this

was

the oldest_gardenjoy, Living

and young and

sweet.

And

the _meltingmiststookradiance,

And

the silence_{a rhythmic}beat,

For

the_day

came

_stealing stealthily,

A

thief,

upon

furtivefeet.

And

_{the walls that ring}this world about Quivered like_gossamer,

Till heheard, inthe other_{worlds beyond,}

The

other peoplesstir,

And

met

_strange, sudden,shiftingeyes

Through

the filmybarrier. , . .

ST.

MARK'S

DAY

THEY

saw

_Dolly

Denver

in the_porch last_night (Joe

and

his

young

lady, Kate)

Saw

her, like a

shadow

in the_{queer gray} light, Flittingthrough the churchyard gate.

There were

sick

_{men, and}

babies,

and

old tired

folk,

All _flitting

_by

fortodie;

But

tosee _Dolly

Denver was

an

_uglyjoke,

And

_{just to}

make

_Dollycry.

There's

no

one

now

believesthoseold_queertales,

As

_{they used}to

when Gran was

young

;

And

_young

_Dolly

Denver

never aches norails,

Nor

the

law

won't

have

women

hung.

But

_they

and

theirlie, they've

made

Dollycry;

I heard herin the_{yard just}

_now,

As

she

_hung

out the clothes for the west

wind

to_dry,

Sobbing

soshe didn't heed

how

The

blown

_apple-boughsetthe_{light lineswinging}

Up

and down, and

tossed her dad's shirt

Over

theblackthorn_hedge,

and

then

went

_flinging

The

_{clean pinnies}

down

intothedirt,

Dolly'sbutagirl,

and

girlshaven'tsense;

A

man

'udnever heed such _folly.

I _laughedat heroverthe sticky larch fence,

And

said,"

Who's

down-hearted, Dolly?

f>

And

_{Dolly sobbed} at

me,

"

They

saw

you, too!"

(And

so theliarssaid _theyhad,

Though

I've_{not wasted paper nor}

_rhymes

_telling you),

And, "Well,"

said I,

"I'm

not sad.

"

_But

_since

you and

me

must

diewithinthe year,

What

if

we

went

_together

To

make

cowslip balls inthe_fields,

and

hear

The

blackbirds whistling to theweather?"

So

in the water-fieldstillbluemistsrose

We

loitered, Dolly

and

I,

And

_pulled

wet

kingcups

where

the cold brook goes,

And

when

we've

done

_{living, we'll die.}

They saw

Dolly

Denver and

me

last _night (Joe

and

his

young

lady, Kate),

Crouching to _watch, with their hearts full of

spite,

In the

_{dusk by}

the_{churchyardgate.}

THE DOOR

WE

piledthe crackling

brushwood

sticks,

With

thedead

brown

stalksof _fern, Into a_heap,

and

_lightedsix

Matches

to

make

it burn.

And

I stood on the

windward

side,

And

_{you upon}

the lee;

The

blue

smoke

drifted like a tide

Ebbing

to

_{you from}

me.

Through

eddying wreaths I

saw

_{your eyes}

Narrowed,

asif

_{you were}

In mirth, or pain, or sharpsurprise,

Or

feartoo

keen

tobear.

The

hazel leaves

had

astir

and

thrill

As

if_they

watched

men

die;

And

the centuries

tumbled

at a _shrill, Sharp, long-forgotten cry.

The

lit _{twigs cracked, theflame put out}

A

_{quivering glutton'stongue};

The

_{cruel beech-trees pressed}about

To

see

_{you burn}

so_young.

The

red fire _leapt

and

lit_your face;

I

winced

_{you were}

so white

To

have

come

once

more

to_{the ancient place}

But

suddenthe_{flaminggates of} hell

That had

opened, closed_again;

For,breaking through thestilltrees, fell

Big-dropped,the blessed rain.

And

hell'sdoor

and

time's door

They

both crashedto together,

And

thedevil's

oven

was

no

more

Than

a

bonfirespoilt

by

weather.

The

_{greatdrops hurrying through} thetrees

Were

like the noiseof_feet,

As

if

back

_throughthe centuries

A

strayedhourbeatretreat.

I heard

_you

speak

from

miles

_away

A

_strange, far,hollow sound.

You

saidit

was no

use_{to stay,}

THE

LOSERS

THE

soft dust

on

_{the by-roads}

Isshaken

and

stirred

By

the_{shuffling feet}ofalistless folk.

But

no sound

is _heard,

For

_{theyslouch along,} atiredtrail,

With

_{never a song}orword.

The

_{days they}

walked

the_{high road,}

With

its _{sun, dust,}

and

sweat, Its

_{hope and}

its_pride, are a

dim dream

That

_theywill soon _forget. All forthe fields ofslumber

Theirfeet are set.

But,as_{they slouch}

on

_drowsily,

They

shall _{quiet joys}find

Boots without_{heels, jars without jam,}

And

_gnawed

_cheese-rind,

And

_{pilchard-tins,}with one or

two

Fish-tailsleftbehind.

And

_{glad they}areto

have

left _climbing

The

difficult

_way

Glad no

more

tosweat

and

strive,

No

_{more obey}

;

Yea, all but_{glad the goal}

was

not

(Lost souls, theysay, from Michael'sgate

Turn

backin suchwise. Forgetful of the ecstasy

Of

the strange, steepskies,

Down

_{poppied paths}to thesilent lands

They

slope, with blindeyes.)

Peace

waits totake

them

_utterly

For a

little_space;

They

must go

shambling

down

the hill

To

the _dim, still_place,

Where,

stretched at ease,theyshall forget

They

have

run

and

lost a race.

The

_graydust

on

the _by-roads Is shuffled

and

blurred

By

the_dragging feetofbeaten

men,

And

a

_quiet

sound

is heard

A

_drawing

ofslowbreath, asif

A

thousand_sleepersstirred.

CARDS

FOUR

candle flames shookin astirofair;

Four

moths

drifted to death

from

out _{the night};

Four

players sat inasoft circleof_light In a

dim

_{lily-illuminedgarden,}

where

Small

sweet

winds

wandered.

White

in the rosyflare

Your

thin_quick

hands

flung slipperycards about;

And

_you

smiled, innocent ofthefurtive rout

Of shadowy

thingssidlingbehind your chair.

But, like swords_clashing,

_my

love

on

theirhate Strucksharp,

and

drove,

and

pushed. . . .

_Grimly

round

_you

Fought

we

that_{fight,they pressing passionate} Into the litcircle

which

called

and drew

Shadows

and

moths

of _night.

...

I held the gate.

SUMMONS

LITTLE

_{grey sea-waveslightly} shiver

and

beat

Beat on a

blindearth, shiver tothesea.

But

where

are _ye

That

pierced the pale sleep veils _{with echoing}

feet,

And

_{thin strange voicesclamouring wistfully,}

And

_hammering

hands

that beat

on a

shutdoor?

The dawn

waves

strike the shore,

And

shiver_{vanquished seaward.}

But

no

more

The dim

_{verge quivers with the} soft-foot bands;

They

have

creptbackintothe spacelesslands.

Inthe

dim

_halls,

Beyond

the ultimate

shadows

ofour _night,

There

is

no

light.

Gray

loomingwalls

Brood

inaccessible

and

bald

and

blind;

The

secret corridors

between

them

wind, Full of the_{rhythmic beat}

Of

soft, innumerable, passionlessfeet.

What

now

ifthou shouldst hear

My

cryingbreak along those lanes offear?

If

_my

_{love, burning luminous}likea_star, Should betothee

a

light

Immortal

withinthismortal tabernacle

Wherein

I _blindly dwell

Drawing

thee

me-ward

from_{the spaceless sphere}

(Where

is

no

_near,

no

far),

Even

tothe blurredrims ofthisour _night If

_my

great need, crying continually,

Should

break_{the gates that}

bound

_eternity

If_thou,

_wending

at lastthe

_way

to

me,

At

the road's end shouldfind

A

dim

_place,gray

and

blind,

And

sad,

and

still,

and

all unlit forthee

What

ifthis ultimate bitternessshould be?

O

may-hedge,

glimmer

!

And

foam

ofthe _cow-parsley

Hold

thesilver moon's

shimmer

;

And

let the chestnut-tree

Lift_{high a thousand candlesto light}

him

to

me

!

Into the

wan

waste_places These, the world's_{lights,shall go,}

And

_passionin _{passionless spaces} Shall throbasa_flame,

_{and glow}

:

Till,as

moths

drifttofire,

Thou

shaltdrift slow

Down

the

dim

_ways

where shadows

_sway

an

flow,

Out

of thewaste unto

_my

litdesire.

God

has

made

of thelilac'sbreath,

And

the sweet of the clover,

A

wine

shall conquer death,

By

the wild sprays of thewhite thorn

Shadows

of

dreams

are pierced, aretorn,

And

the

_may

shall discover

(Through

the _{fragile shell)}

The

secret,imperishable

Heart

of mortality

That

death

_wraps

over.

Oh,

I

have

builtalovely tabernacle,

That

therein

we

This

_night

_may

dwell.

*+**

The dawn

waves

_{always break}

and

shiver

and

beat

(Softly, like

coming

feet),

And

stealwith _{a long}sighing to thesea. , . ,

THE

CITY

ON

THE LEE SHORE

LIKE

a

_cup

_{holding the twilight the}

dim

shore

lies,

Beyond

the blue _boglands

and

the broad winds' wheeling.

The

_{gray verge}is_mysticalwith

shadows

_stealing:

Follow

the _singing

winds

to

where

the last light dies!

Down

the blue

_buoyant

_shipways

adventure

no

more,

For

the ports of desire areremote

and

hidden;

Drop

hope, the peaceless pilot,

and

drive

storm-ridden

Where

winds

and

tides

make

an

end,

upon

the

leeshore.

Here

is

no

toil_{of questing,}

no

hurt ofdesire,

For

here _sleep the

_weary

dreams, a

crew

dis-banded

;

And

here their stranded captains smile,

empty-handed,

And

_{pile their}

wrecked

_cargoes to

make

a little

fire.

Drowned

in the blue

smoke-

_wreathing the stars fade

and

pale;

The

sea's _{edge ebbs, unimaginably drifting};

And

theworld is

made

new

_by

the silent _lifting

Till, built of the smoke's _{pale eddies, mystic} walls_rise,

And,

lo!

on

the shore

an

_{impregnablecity}

Spreads encirclingarms, like a

mother

_{in pity};

And

there, within the guarding walls, the last

wind

dies.

THREE

IN the chalk heart ofCambridgeshire Breathless I _lay,

Through

the hot, still, passionless

August midday

;

And

_{the spires of the} bluecity

Shimmered,

miles away.

In the _longgrass

and

tall nettles

I _layabed,

With

_{hawthorn and bryony}

Tangled

o'erhead.

And

I

was

alonewith

Hobson,

Two

centuries dead.

Hidden

_by

_{sprawling brambles}

The

Nine

Waters

were

;

From

_{a chalky}

bed

they bubbled up, Clean, green,

and

fair.

And

I

was

alonewith

Hobson,

Whose

_ghost

walks

there.

And

thoughthe _brooding

_noonday

lay Dreadfullystill,

Like an

ogre

dreaming

after food

On

the hotchalk hill,

Deep

at its heart therestirred the pulse

Of

alive,

bad

will.

Some

stealthy life

was

hidden there,

And

it

was

not mine,

Nor

_Hobson's, that

_good

carrier, Crafty

and

benign,

Nor

his_grey

mare

_{suckingghostishly}

At

the watersnine.

Some

evil life

was

_{throbbingthere,}

Quiteclosetome,

But

not the_guzzling water-rats

Beneath

_{the may-tree,}

Nor

the

moorhens

_{that flapped}

and

dipped Clear

and

plainto see.

The

_thinningveils ofsilenceshook

As

if_they

must

_part

At

_{the stealthy}stirof_{the secret thing} Inthe_noonday'sheart.

And

the_thought I

had

was

ofbittertea

And

cold apple-tart

And

_{something yawned,}

and from

_{the grass}

A

head

upreared;

And

I

was

notalone with

_Hobson,

For

at

me

leered

A

_{great, gaunt, greasy}

_tramp

He

had

a beard likea dandelion,

And

I

had none

;

He

had

teain abeer-bottle,

Warm

with the sun;

He

had

_{pie ina paper} bag,

Not

yetbegun.

So

he fell to

and

feasted well,

Nor

sparedanything;

He

lay

and

dinedheavily,

Like

a_{satyr king,}

Jnthechalk heart of_{Cambridgeshire,}

Where

the

Nine Wells

_spring.

And

hissoul held

no

_pity

For

the_poorlike

me

;

He

was

an

evil, ragged

man

Without

_charity,

For

he

_gave

me

never

a

bite of pie

Nor

a supoftea.

And

when

he

had done

_dining

He

lay

down

and

slept.

At

the noiseof his_{deep snoring}

The

small _frogsleapt,

And

over

him

I

and

Hobson

Still _{vigil kept.}

In the chalkheart of_{Cambridgeshire}

We

three _lay,

Through

the silent, passionless

Brooding

midday

;

And

the_spiresoftheblue city

Were

four miles

_away.

EPIPHANY

THE

rain has

_dropped

its veils over a blind country,

And

is _hushing the _young,

_young

_{year with} soft singing,

Lest he wake, lest he wake,

and

see a star springing,

And

breakhisheart forso white

_{an Epiphany,}

And

launch his cockle-shell boat

on

a

_dawn-gray

sea,

Because

_{the pale}sonofthe

_morning

manifest

Leadeth

the _morning's sons

on

a

_wandering

quest:

After a star

do

_they sail_continually.

But

he shall lie _close, the

_young

_year, to his mother,

And

_{the encircling of} her

arms

shall

round

his days;

He

shall

have

benisonofthe _{Sun, her brother,}

Nor

fear hersister the

Moon

with

_any

amaze

;

And

earth

and

_{sky, leaning gently} onetoother, Shall flood with _healing waters the fire of the

ways.

EMPTINESS

I

HAVE

seen,hesaid,the sunless, soundlessspaces

That

shall

be

aftertheworld has_been,

When

the

_{winds sweep}

clean

The

_empty

valleys

and

gray, quiet places.

I

have

troddenashes, pale as sand,

and

shifting In wind-caughteddies, thatonce

were

fire;

For

the

_lamps

of desire

Are blown and

die,

and

thedustgoesdrifting. ..

But on

the_{gray waste's rim, against} Time's _pale portal,

Two

deathless flamesburn, still, passionate

(They

shallsear hell's_gate):

The

whiteflame,likeastar,ofbeauty immortal;

The

red flame, like_{a sword,} of_unperishing hate.

FOREGROUNDS

THE

pleasant ditchis _{a milky way,}

So

_alightwithstarsit is,

And

overit _breaks, like _{pale sea-spray,}

The

_laughingcataract of the

_may

In luminous harmonies.

(Cloak with a flower-wrought veil

The

face of the _{dream-country.}

The

fieldsofthe

moon

are kind, arepale,

And

_quiet is_she.)

The

jolly

donkeys

that love

me

well

Nuzzle

with_{thistly lips};

The

harebellis _song

made

_visible,

The

dandelion's

_lamp

amiracle,

When

the day's

lamp

dips

and

dips.

(Oh

night, be a purpleveil O'er the _{waste dream-country,}

Where

the candles of earth

do

fade, do fail,

And

no

_{lights be.)}

I will weave,ofthe clear clean _{shapesof things,}

A

curtain toshelter

me

;

I will_paintitwith kingcups

and

_sunrisings,

And

_glints of blue for the_{swallow's wings,}

And

_greenforthe_apple-tree.

(Oh, a whisper haspierced theveil

Out

of the _{dream-country,}

As

a

wind

moans

in _{the straining}sail

I will

have

Colourto be

_my

_guide,

And

_Lightfor

_my

_cheery friend,

And

three abreast

we

will _bravelyride,

And

love

and

_plunderthe

_good

_wayside,

Down

tothebriefroad's end.

(Then

may

I lift the_veil,

And

enterthe

dream

_country,

While

the round world

hums

like the far-ofl tale

Of

afoolish bee?)

ON

CRYING

FOR

THE MOON

"

LAVENDER,

sweet as_charity, Fillsall the _garden

_ways

;

The

bees,

drunk

with the clover

wine

Make

music _{of the days.}

Oh,

hide _thyface in_rosemary,

Oh,

bind thine _{eyes with}rue. . . ."

"

_But

_{in awhite}

night, a

wan

night,

A

palelight grew. . . ."

11

_The

_winds

playin the _apple-trees,

And

tumble

on

the

_ground

Pomona's

babies, chubby-cheeked,

Happy

and

red

and

round.

Oh, little_{brother, look}

and

_laugh,

All sweet_things

wish

thee well. . . .

"

_But

_{in a}

deep wood,

a

dim

wood,

A

whitefruit fell. . . ."

"

_The

earth,spinning sogiddily, Carries us_{past regret.}

She

hums

atune, like _{a honey-bee,}

'

Haste onwards

and

_forget!'

See, little _{brother, they}

dance

for thee,

The

stars ina silvercrowd. . . ."

"_{In a}

still hour,a secret hour,

THE

BLACK

ARMIES

OH,

thesouth

wind

_{brings comfort,}

And

thewest

wind

_bringstherain,

And

the

wind

that drivesthrough the _golden gates

Brings

hope

tothe earth again.

Though

thesea-windsings ofbrokenships

On

dim,

drowned

sands,

And

wailsofthewaste waters

That

cover thelost lands,

And

the moon-wind's_greatwith _pity

For

theburden of_{the night}

You may

turn_your facetoallof_these,

For

_theyare the

winds

of_light.

But

when,

inthe heart ofsilence

That

throbsnot atall

(Sostillshe lies,thewaitingearth,

Asleep beneath her pall)

Oh,

when

in the_{graywillow-tops}

An

evil

_{sound you}

hear

That

islike _{to the hustling tread}

Of

a_legion

drunk

with fear,

Bury

youreyes, bedeaf, beblind,

Nor

everface about,

Lest

_you

chancetoseethe

wicked

things

(Oh,the blessed winds,

have

pity

For

all under

moon

and

sun,

But

not forthe broodsofdarkness

That

intothe silence run.

And

_ye shall_{pray, of}yourcharity,

For

all

on

the earth's face,

And

forthe souls,ifsouls there be, In

_any

other place:

But

_ye

_may

_{not pray} for theblack armies

That

chase

above

the trees,

For

earth's pity

and

heaven's pity Isall toostrait _{for these.)}

FEAR

THE

white roadoftheirpilgrimage,

Running

throughfields in _spring,

Broke

ata_gate in ahazel_hedge,

And

left

them

there, at

a dim

wood's edge

(And

a

wood

isa_{live thing).}

The

sun,their friend_through the placidland,

Had

sunk

in

a

seaof_gold,

And

the

wind from

the

woods

was

a

soft

hand

Pushing. . . .

_(And

how

shall

dead

souls stand

A

livewood'shold?)

The

little

brown

_{paths ran}in

and

out,

And

_they

were

afraid of these.

(Men

have

losttheir souls, they did not doubt, In the secret

_ways

that twistabout

The

roots of the trees.)

I see

them

sit, I hear

them

sigh,

And

shakeattheowl'scall,

Under

thewise _night'swatching eye.

(The

great red

moon

thatclimbsthe sky

And

smiles,

knowing

all.)

Nor

back

theyturn,nor

on

they

go

;

They deem

itthe world's end. (Of a

myriad

pilgrims,

how

few

know

The way

the

shadows

sway

and

flow

In the heart of the

woods

when

the

winds

blow

And

the birch-trees

bend

!)

A

_myriad

_pilgrims,

when

thesebe dust, Shall staytheir_{journeyinghere,}

And

watch

the

moon

risered asrust

Over

the earth_they

_may

not trust (Because of_fear).

THE

TRAMPS'

HIGHWAY

ALL

_along the road's_edge the grass is_gray

With

blown

dust,but black in _rings

Where

men

cooked their dinners in _pots

yesterday;

And

_they've eachleftalot_{of things}

For

the_{ones walking}after_{(if they look about)}

A

_{clean-licked apple-pie}dish,

A

treacle-pot,withthe treaclecleanedout,

And

bootsasoulin hell wouldn'twish.

All _alongthe road's_edgeit

_may

be seen

That

the

_{tramps have}

trailed

ahead

in _line,

Dropping

their_leavings to

show

_they

have

been,

And

tocheer

_up

_poorhearts likemine.

From

_Cambridge

to

London

the graystones _say

There

are_{four-and-fifty} miles of dust:

A

pleasantroad towalk, forthosethat

_may,

But

dullish fortheones thatmust.

From

_Cambridge

to

_Trumpington

men

walk

beneath

The

shadow

ofthe chestnut-trees;

From

_Trumpington

to _{Shelford they} call it the heath,

From

Shelford to Sawston,

from Sawston

on,

Through

Pampisford, Chesterford, Epping,

Each

_grey stone is_{another mile gone} ;

And

ifa

man

tireswith _stepping,

High

above

the roadthe wire

makes

a_song,

To

hush

a

_{drowsy tramp}

to sleep.

In the boot-strewn ditch he will _perhaps sleep long;

Among

jam-pots he

may

sleep deep.

MOONRISE

"

_WHICH

_{roadtothe feninn?"} "

_You

_follow

me,

And

you'll findout before the

moon

gets up."

"

_How

_{far to}

go

?

How

_{long before}

we

_sup?" "

Why

that,

young man,

willbeasit will be." "

_The

_dim

_downs

_heave

and tumble

likethe sea;

The

_great

wind

raves like

waves on a

hidden shore;

The

_climbing

moon

flames red at the _night's door

She'll soon break in.

...

How

near to bed are

we

?"

'

A

short_{way, a}short

_way,

_impatient sir;

You

shall_sleep

sound

_anon,

and

themoon's_light Shall

wake

_you

not,norshallthe shiver

and

stir

Of

winds

breakin

_upon

_{your quietnight.} . . . Thisisthe inn; I

am

the inn-keeper;

MURDER

"ARE

_you

quite near?

There was

a

sound

of

going,

And

sudden alarm struck _{coldly through}

_my

dream."

"You

heard the _whispering run of the dark

stream,

And

the _night

wind

through the _{gray willows} blowing."

"

_Does

_the

_wind

creeplikefurtivefeet_tiptoeing?" "

Yea, verylike." "I

dreamt

ofa

dim

rout

Of

stealthyshades that quietlystole about. . . ."

"

_That

_was

_the

_murmurous

_river

flowing, flowing." "

_Put

_out

your hand. Its touch iscold

on

mine." "

Through

the

wide casement

steals the _chilling air."

"

_Your

whispering voice sounds distant

and

malign;

Like

_grass

on

a

_dewy

_night is _{your strange}

hair. . . .

Speak, speak.

..."

"Peace, fool; he will not

speak again.

I _speak for

him

who

has been

an

hourslain."

THE FLAME

THE

dawn

is secret

and

_gray, for the willows

weave

it

Of

a

dim dream and

_{pale water-light.}

Very

still the

dream

_{flows, having} for motion

The

_swaying

thereeds

make

throughthe_night.

When

_through the faint darkness the _sharp

sword

stabs, piercing

With

its bitter_{point thegraysleep}veils,

And

valour, faith,

and

desire are three _spent candles,

And

the_{spirit's torch gutters}

and

fails

Then

isa

_lamp

lit, to

keep

illuminedvigil

Among

dead_lights,

and

_yoursoul for

mine

Flames, a still_torch,ardent

_{and unswerving}

;

And, ashi

dim

watersstars shine,

So

_yourdeathless

_lamp

throwsa

downward

image, Till

_my

dream

like the_{gray stream} flows Tranquil

and

glad,

and

holds deep the flame's

burning,

COMPLETION

HE,

the

_young

_{pilgrim,seekinggrave}still_spaces,

Came

to_{the quiet places}

Where

hillshollowed a

_cup

forstreamsto

brim

With

blue

wine

to_{the rim,}

Blue wine and

_{shadows, while}thestars

_grew

dim.

Holding

thedawn,the illumined

_cup

filled_slowly

With

_{serene things}

and

_holy;

With

palefeet shadow-set thehill _{saints past};

The

blue

dim

_{earth-girdles} meltedat last Into heaven's

luminous

Limitless walls.

Dawn

for_{the pilgrim} thus Builta housefull of_{the pale}

_wings

of_prayer.

Faintlyhe, standingthere,

Heard

bells that _{chimed, climbing} the luminous air

From

the deep, citied valleys, That, each a

dew-brimmed

chalice,

Held shadows

atthefootof dawn's_steep stair.

Yet

was

he not _content,for a voice said:

"

_Thou

hast a

_way

totread Into the heart ofone

more

litthanthee

With

heaven'sclear_mystery.

See

where

_{that opal targe}

Glintswith asecret smile

_{from marge}

to_marge,

Because

he

knows

that rocks in a white

morn

Prick sharpto_{heaven, spraying}likewinterthorn; Because,

when

Lightis _born,

She

leansto

him

the _splendourofher breast,

Till, atherlastbehest,

The

porter of the

Temple

ofthe

West

Flings gold gates

wide and shows

The

Altar of the Rose,

Blooming

for him, for_him,

and

well he

knows

That

in

him

now

his _holyofholiesglows.

"

He, a

blue darkness, staringatthe

moon,

Shakes

with _delightfulfear,

Her

round

_{wheel, turning,}

hums

in

him

sonear.

The

stars slide

down

tohim,

and

he

_may

hear Theirtinkle _{of strange laughter}in hisear:

He

ripplestothe tune.

"

_Bend

to

him

_{now, and}

_surelyshalt thou be

One

with the

heaven

he so smiles to hold.

Lean

tohis breast,

and

_haplyshaltthousee

The

_{secret petals of}hisrose unfold.

Trustto his

arms

; the sleep hegives to thee

Holds

dreams

of_{a deep laughteryet untold,}

The

_{heart of peace,}

an

opal purity,

Young

as the

_dawn,

oldas thestarsareold."

When

on

the

dim

blue

_{cup and}

the_craggedheight

That

tookthe

_dawn,

the cool still

hands

of night

Were

laid, holding

from

sight

The

bitterrocks, the

many-hued

delight,

The

_pathsof_wandering,

What

news

then of the pilgrim'sjourneying?

Over

the

_cup

of

dreams

the mists

_hung

blind.

Had

he foundsplendour, as he sought to find?

Or was

his

_{submerged dreaming}

All of palefishes

_gleaming

Through

reeds that shivered

and

_sang

on

a

_weedy

floor,

And

small

waves

_lapping

_upon

a

dim

_grayshore,

With

a

sound

like

hands

_{beating on a}blinddoor?

. . .

He

_{dreams, he dreams, but}

may

tell his

dreams no

more.

A

LIGURIAN

VALENTINE

ON

wet

sands

now

the stars_{are gray,}

What

do

the

brown

nets hold for _keeping? Will

_you

these

from

the_{rock-green bay?}

Sweeterto breathe thanflowers in

_May

Is thesilverthe nets are_heaping

On

wet sands,

now

thestarsare gray.

Surely

now

I

have

heard

_you

_say

You

love thelittle_{bianchetti leaping}:

Will

_you

these

from

the_{rock-green bay?}

And

seventunnies

enmeshed

at_play

Dance,

becauseof

_my

_{water-sweeping,}

On

wet

sands,

now

the stars_{are gray.}

Thisis

_my

_{wooing and}

this

_my

_way

:

Will

_you

_garner

_my

_{night's sea-reaping}?

Will

_you

these

from

the rock-green

bay

?

Small

bianchetti

_my

vows

shall

_pay

Silver things

between meshes

peeping,

On

wet

sands,

now

the stars_{are gray.} Will

_you

these

from

the rock-green

bay

?

A CITY

IN

THE NOETH

THE

rain thatdoes nottire is on the _city.

Over

allsin is

drawn

_{the cloak of pity};

Over

streetsblack like_death,flameredlike hell.

Black

streets,redflame, fade ina mistof sorrow. "

_The

past lies

drowned

; the slow drops

choke

the

morrow"

(Hope

lifts _{her lying voice)} "

So

all iswell."

Oh,

shame

of lifebeneath thecloak of pity! . . .

The

rain thatdoesnot tire is

on

the _city.

SONG OF

THE

LITTLE

FLEET

THE

moon's

afloat,

a

lamplit boat,

Where

reeds shake

and

sing;

Around

herdip,shipjostling ship,

The

stars_voyaging.

Who

bendshisear

_may

_{haply hear}

A

_{strange thing}

and

sweet:

Thin

voices

chime

in _water-time,

And

thussing thefleet:

"

_The

_earth

is_{good, with}hill

and

wood,

A

wide

_place

and

fair;

When

we

look

down

on

field

and

town,

We

would

fain

_voyage

there.

Of

the dark sea ourkeels

were

free,

But

we

loved earth best;

So

earth did

make

us roads

and

take

Our

shipstoher breast.

And now we

ride in_{shivering pride}

Down

dim

lanes

and

blue,

And

owls_cry

Whit

!

There

ridesthe fleet!'

And

*

_Luck

go

with you-ou-ou!'

The

_{pure sweet thorn} thattakes the

morn

Breathes

dreams

all _{the night};

But

when

she _pales,then furl

we

_sails,

And,

wisht! sink

from

sight."

The

_{stream runs gray before the day,}

The

reedsshake

and

_sing;

Who

bends hisear _perchance

_may

hear

A

sad_thing

and

sweet

Thin

voices

chime

in water-time:

But where

sails thefleet?

TURNING BACK

(A Duologiu.) "

_As

_{a sadsailor}

putteth outto sea,

Loving

the lit

towns

asmariners will,

And

the land's strangeness

and

sweet mystery

Drown

in _{green deeps}as the

_{moaning winds}

fill

The

sails,

and

speed

him

outofport, so

we

Launch

blind

from

thelitshores thatcallusstill."

"

Nay,

as

a

tramp,having paused a whiletostill

His

thirstfor life,as boundlessas thesea,

Must

leave the inn

and

tread the road,

and

fill

His grimy

pan, sansjoy,sans mystery (For nothing

new

he finds,

and

nothingwill,

Save

dust

and

ashes

and

broken_{bread), so} we," "

_But

yesterday a door

swung

wide,

and

we

Striking thereon, did

push

itwiderstill,

And

_throughit stolethe_sharpsmell of the sea,

And

lavender,

and

we

breathed deep tofill

Our

soulswith_joy, sosweet_{a mystery}

Lurked beyond

walls, tobe disclosedat will."

"

_We

_{nevertrod that}

place, nor everwill.

Poor

_{slaves jerked sharply}fromthe threshold,we.

Those

hidden pathslie_strange

and

far

and

still,

Breathing of

_{rosemary by}

a

shadowed

sea.

Now

the_way'sdust

blows

harsh

and

gray, to fill

11

Our

feet

_may

tread

no

_paths of_mystery.

Time

mocks

the _pitiful motions ofa will

Whose

deeds, like shot sea-birds intothesea, Fall

wounded

tooblivion; cold

and

still

Checked

_passiondrops

and

dies; dry-throated

we

Set

down

the _wine-cupthat

we

_might

notfill."

"_Here's

tothe old

known

road; come,takeyour

fill

Of

water

and

bread

and

dust.

_Oh,

_mystery

Of

use that drivesuscrosswise toour will,

And

_spills

and

wastesthe blessed

wine

that

we

Drew

forthlike

_{gods from}

out the _Elysian still

Of

passionatedays

by

a sun-sweet

wood

and

sea!"

"

_Wine

like the sea shallone

_day

flow

and

fill

Even

toourwill_{our cups with mystery."} "

_Sad

tipplers

we

; though drunk,

we

shall thirst

still."

PEACE

AND THE

BUILDER

" IP I should build ahouseof_ivory,

Paved

with ripecedar-wood, smelling ofmyrrh,

Wouldst

thou

come

in todwell,

O

wanderer

?" "

Nay;

the long

winds

_swingsinging

from

thesea,

And

_{the night holds}

no

house forthee

and

me.

Out

of the

wreck

of thewind-rivenyears,

The

shattered_ways,the old dust dark withtears,

I

come

; night holds

no

housefor

me

and

thee."

"_If

I_{should gather from} the shattered

_ways

The

bitter dust, the brokenstones of

_hope

(They

shine like fallenstars inthemoon's_blaze),

And

build

_my

houseof these

on

the

dim

_slope,

Wouldst

come, pale

wanderer

?

The

doorstands

wide." "

THE DEBT

WHEN

in _{the pretty}

wood

The

_{larches spurtle red} for_{the year's turning,}

Then

in

_{men's moving}

blood

Sweet

Aprildoes set frolic fires _a-burning.

But now,

sincethe treesstand

Naked

and

_{deepasleep, yet nathlessyearning}

For

_{the spring's kindling hand,}

Let

_youth

_go

forth,

and

setthe

woods

_a-burning.

Such

_quickfire isin _youth

(And

this

_youth

_{knows, having}

no

_{other learning)}

That where

it _{moves,in truth,}

Itstouchshall setthedeadearth's_{soul a-burning.}

'Tis

_good

all debtsto

_pay

;

So

let _youth

thank

the _{sweet year}for_{his turning.}

And

_newly

_every

_day

Go

forth, go forth, to setthe

woods

a-burning.

TWO

HYMNS

FOR

ST.

ANDREWS

DAY

THE

round sun swingsin thin _green skiesliketo

a

tumblingapricot;

Through

the clear_peacethere shivers not

a

sound exceptthe sudden cries

Of men

like birds

on

coral isles,a-singing inthe bread-fruittrees,

Of

men

like fish in_opal seas,

a-swimming

round

withcruel smiles.

We

castournets

on

the pale sea, being Christ's patient fishermen,

Cast

and draw

in

and

cast _again: with

Him

we

serve the issuebe.

The

world is like to _gossamer,so_thin, so_light, so pearlypale,

And

ever _just behind the veil _{strange joys}

do

wait, faintterrorsstir.

We

may

not _look,

we

dare not hear, thoughlife

and

death shallblaze_{to light}

The

sea

_by

_{day, thesky}

_by

_{night, though} flame-red pain

and

_{ash-gray fear}

Leap

up and

rush unleashed

from

hell,

and

rend

theveil

and

shrieklike birds,

Or

men

that utter dreadful

words

of terror

and

We

are those Christ has crucified,

and

sent into thebitter

_ways

To

_spill our blood

and

drown

_{our days} in the sea's pitiless wastetide.

And

as

we

_{drag God's}

wide

blue

_cup

for those

His

souls that perishthere,

In the fierce sun's _unflickering stare our

own

soulsshrivel

and

parchup.

The

red

_moon,

likeadevil's _{eye, breasts the}

dim

tideto

mock

oursleep;

To God

_beyond

the

_unanswering

_deep,to Christ

our

God,

"

How

long?"

we

_cry.

ii.

When

Andrew

went

_a-fishing

All night in Galilee,

Dawn

would

_bring

him

a

_heavy

net,

Or

fivefish,orthree.

It

was

just as the sea

would have

it,

And

fisherman's _luck, saidhe.

After, he

went

a-fishing

For

wilder fishthan _{of yore,}

And many

straining netfuls

He

drew

in toshore.

But

at last _they

_hung

him

crosswise Fisherman's luck once more.

There

be

_many

_go

a-fishing

Twixt

the poles

and

the Hebrides,

And

the

winds

sing theirelegy

To

the_shiftingseas

41

Landsman's

luckforlandfarers,

And

fisherman's luck forthese."

Christ sends one

man

a-fishing

For

brown

folk inthe_isles,

Among

the

_happy

bread-fruittrees,

From

Hawai

toHahils.

When

the head-hunter runs

him

down,

"_Fisherman's

luck,"

he

smiles.

Another goesa-fishing

For

blacks in _Zanzibar,

Where

the

_swamps

reekof poison-breath,

And

the slave-raids are,

And

allthat the bitter_years

have

won

Fisherman's luck

_may

mar.

All_ye that

_go

a-fishing,

Know

this_{of the patient} art:

Eightnights'harvest

may

break yournets,

And

theninth _{break your}heart.

Then

on

thedawn-tidetearlessly

With

fisherman's luck depart.

HANDS

SEEK

no

more

fondly

where

the blind mistsride.

They

wreathepale dreams, fantastical

and

vain,

But

wreathe

no

face _{for thee,}

O

_empty-eyed.

Things

seenshall_give

no

_healing for_{old pain};

Things

heard are

_windy

_{music, the} ear's_pride;

And who

shall

make

dead echoes live_again,

Or

strikeoldbroken_{strings to}

_melody

?

O

blind

and

sad,

from

whom

the godsare fled,

Beauty no more

shallstrikethee visibly.

Yet

reachout

_{empty hands}

; be comforted.

Strange!

_Everywhere

the old touch _leaps to

thee,

Holding

theefast, albeitthegodsare dead.

Bluebells, layinglight fingers into thine,

Bind

thee tomusic's self;

and

thefrail strands

And

_{grayunfurling} tendrilsofthe vine

Reach

out to thee;

and

the

_may's

_pale sweet

hands

Lay

healing

on

thylips;

and

the strong pine

With

livingtouch comforts

and

holds

who

stands

Inhisblueshadow.

The

winds, eddying, Liftthee tothe old peace,

and

bear thee_high

Over

_{the valley of death. Yea,} all_{the spring}

Voiceless

and

invisible, holds thee

by

Thousands

of_reachinghands, thatbind

and

cling

About

thee; and, so cherished,thoushaltlie

On

earth's breast, hearing

no more

vain tales

told,

Being

mocked

no more by

beauty's powerless power,

But

_{held unstriving}to the_peaceof old,

Till the blue

dusk

ofthe

dim

ultimatehour Shall _bring the _{strong pale}

hands

that shall

enfold

THE

NEW

YEAR

THE

_ships

_go

down

totakethe sea.

Who

seeks the_{dawn-pale mystery}

That

lies

_beyond

the violet _bays?

What

masts shall dip intothe haze, Slip through, to

where

the sea-lights be?

Oh,

valiant

_young

explorers

we

!

Of

the

dim

seas

_hope

makes

us free:

Into the

_dawn-gray

_water-ways

The

ships

go down.

And

none

_{may know}

for

what

far

_quay

Theirsailsare _set, or

what

their fee.

Some

bear_{rich freightsthrough golden days};

Some

come

to

where

the

dim

sea

_sways

And

breaks,and, vanquished utterly,

The

ships

go down.

THE OLD

YEAR

THE

old _{sea-ways send}

_up

their tide;

The

_{battered ships}to harbourride.

In the_deepseas

_beyond

the _bar,

Where

the great

winds and

watersare,

The

_driftingships

have dropped

their pride.

When

forthe

_morning

seas_theyplied,

Who

but

_young

_Hope

should be their_guide,

To

steer

them

_throughthe rocksthat scar

The

old _sea-ways?

Into the port theyreel

and

slide,

So

for

a

little _spaceabide,

Waiting

the

_gleam

of thedawn-star

To

seek

new

_{waters, strange}

and

far.

But no

more

shalltheirkeels divide

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