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"If you shut your eyes," quoth little Garaine, "I will show you the way to go To the orchard of suns and the garden of moons And the field where the stars do grow.
"But you must speak soft," quoth little Garaine, "And still must your footsteps be, For a great bear prowls in the field of the stars, And the moons they have men to see.
"And the suns have the Children of Signs to guard, And they have no pity at all-- You must not stumble, you must not speak, When you come to the orchard wall.
"The gates are locked," quoth little Garaine, "But the way I am going to tell-- The key of your heart it will open them all: And there's where the darlings dwell!"
TO A LITTLE CHILD
(M. H.)
When you were born, my dear, when you were born, A glorious Voice came singing from the sun, An Ariel with roses of the morn, And through the vales of Arcady danced one All golden as the corn.
These were the happy couriers of G.o.d, Bearing your gifts: a magic all your own, And Beauty with her tall divining rod; While tiny star-smiths, bending to your throne, Your feet with summer shod.
Into my heart, my dear, you flashed your way, Your rosy, golden way: a fairy horn Proclaimed you dancing light and roundelay;-- I thank my generous Fates that you were born One lofty joyous day.
L'EMPEREUR, MORT
(M. H., AGED FIVE)
My dear, I was thy lover, A man of spring-time years; I sang thee songs, gave gifts and songs most poor, But they were signs; and now, for evermore, Thou farest forth! My heart is full of tears, My dear, my very dear.
My dear, I was thy lover, I wrote thee on my s.h.i.+eld, I cried thy name in goodly fealty, Thy champion I. And now, no more for me Thy face, thy smile: thou goest far afield, My dear, my very dear.
My dear, I am thy lover: Afield thy spirit goes, And thou shalt find that Inn of G.o.d's delight, Where thou wilt wait for us who say good night, To thy sweet soul. The rest--the rest, G.o.d knows, My dear, my dear!
PHYLLIS
Phyllis, I knew you once when I was young, And travelled to your land of Arcady.
Do you, of all the songs, wild songs, before you flung, Remember mine--its buoyant melody, Its hope, its pride; do you remember it?
It was the song that makes the world go round; I bought it of a Boy: in scars I paid for it, Phyllis, to you who jested at my wound.
BAIRNIE
Did ye see the white cloud in the glint o' the sun?
That's the brow and the eye o' my bairnie.
Did ye ken the red bloom at the bend o' the crag?
That's the rose in the cheek o' my bairnie.
Did ye hear the gay lilt o' the lark by the burn?
That's the voice of my bairnie, my dearie.
Did ye smell the wild scent in the green o' the wood?
That's the breath o' my ain, o' my bairnie.
Sae I'll gang awa' hame, to the s.h.i.+ne o' the fire, To the cot where I lie wi' my bairnie.
IN CAMDEN TOWN
How many years of sun and snow Have come to Camden Town, Since through its streets and in its shade, I wandered up and down.
Not many more than to you here These verses hapless flung, Yet of the Long Ago they seem To me who am yet young.
We strive to measure life by Time, And con the seasons o'er, To find, alas! that days are years, And years for evermore.
The joys that thrill, the ill that thralls, Pressed down on heart and brain-- These are the only horologues, The Age's loss or gain.
And I am old in all of these, And wonder if I know The man begotten of the boy, Who loved that long ago.
A lilac bush close to the gate, A locust at the door, A low, wide window flower-filled, With ivy covered o'er.
A face--O love of childhood dreams, Lily in form and name-- It comes back now in these day-dreams, The same yet not the same.
My childhood's friend! Well gathered are The sheaves of many days, But this one sheaf is garnered in, Bound by my love always.
Where have you wandered, child, since when Together merrily, We gathered cups of columbine By lazy Rapanee?
The green spears of the flagflower, Down by the old mill-race, Are weapons now for other hands, Who mimic warfare chase.
You were so tender, yet so strong, So gentle, yet so free, Your every word, whenever heard, Seemed wondrous wise to me.