Many Voices: Poems Part 9

See-the gold and blue of our yesterday In the eyes and the hair of a child at play; And the spell of joy that our youth beguiled Is woven anew in the laugh of the child.

FAITH

A WALL Gray and tall, And a sky of gray, And a twilight cold; And that is all That my eyes behold.

But I know that unseen, Beyond the wall, On a lawn of green White blossoms fall In the waning light; And beyond the lawn Curtains are drawn From windows bright.

And within she moves with her gracious hands And the heart that loves and that understands, Waiting to succour poor souls in need, And to bind with her blessing the hearts that bleed.

I know it all, though I cannot see; But the tired-out tramp, Dirty and ill, In the evening's damp, In the Spring's clean chill, Knows not that there Is the heart to care For such as I and for such as he.

He slouches along, and sees alone The gray of the sky and the gray of the stone.

Lord, when my eyes see nothing but grey In all Thy world that is now so green, I will bethink me of this spring day And the house of welcome, known yet unseen; The wall that conceals And the faith that reveals.

THE DEATH OF AGNES

NOW that the sunlight dies in my eyes, And the moonlight grows in my hair, I who was never very wise, Never was very fair, Virgin and martyr all my life, What has life left to give Me-who was never mother nor wife, Never got leave to live?

Nothing of life could I clasp or claim, Nothing could steal or save.

So when you come to carve my name, Give me life in my grave.

To keep me warm when I sleep alone A lie is little to give; Call me "Magdalen" on my stone, Though I died and did not live.

IN TROUBLE

IT'S all for nothing: I've lost him now.

I suppose it had to be; But oh, I never thought it of him, Nor he never thought it of me.

And all for a kiss on your evening out, And a field where the gra.s.s was down . . .

And he 'as gone to G.o.d-knows-where, And I may go on the town.

The worst of all was the thing he said The night that he went away; He said he'd 'a married me right enough If I hadn't 'a been so gay.

Me-gay! When I'd cried, and I'd asked him not, But he said he loved me so; An' whatever he wanted seemed right to me . . .

An' how was a girl to know?

Well, the river is deep, and drowned folk sleep sound, An' it might be the best to do; But when he made me a light-o'-love He made me a mother too.

I've had enough sin to last my time, If 'twas sin as I got it by, But it ain't no sin to stand by his kid And work for it till I die.

But oh! the long days and the death-long nights When I feel it move and turn, And cry alone in my single bed And count what a girl can earn To buy the baby the bits of things _He_ ought to ha' bought, by rights; And wonder whether he thinks of Us . . .

And if he sleeps sound o' nights.

GRAt.i.tUDE

I FOUND a starving cat in the street: It cried for food and a place by the fire.

I carried it home, and I strove to meet The claims of its desire.

And since its desire was a little fish, A little hay and a little milk, I gave it cream in a silver dish And a basket lined with silk.

And when we came to the grateful pause When it should have fawned on the hand that fed, It turned to a devil all teeth and claws, Scratched me and bit me and fled.

To pay for the fish and the milk and the hay With a purr had been an easy task: But its hate and my blood were required to pay For the gifts that it did not ask.

AT THE LAST

WHERE are you-you whose loving breath Alone can stay my soul from death?

The world's so wide, I seek it through, Yet-dare I dream to win to you?

Perhaps your dear desired feet Pa.s.s me in this grey muddy street.

Your face, it may be, has its shrine In that dull house that's next to mine.

But I believe, O Life, O Fate, That when I call on Death and wait One moment at the unclosing gate I shall turn back for one last gaze Along the trampled, sordid ways, And in the sunset see at last, Just as the barred gate holds me fast, Your face, your face, too late.

FEAR

IF you were here, Hopes, dreams, ambitions, faith would disappear, Drowned in your eyes; and I should touch your hand, Forgetting all that now I understand.

For you confuse my life with memories Of unrememberable ecstasies Which were, and are not, and can never be; . . .

Ah! keep the whole earth between you and me.

THE DAY OF JUDGMENT

WHEN the bearing and doing are over, And no more is to do or bear, G.o.d will see us and judge us The kind of men we were; And our sins, so ugly and heavy, We shall drag them into His sight, And throw them down at the foot of the throne, Foul on the steps of light.

We shall not be shamed or frightened, Though the angels are all at hand, For He will look at our burden, And He will understand.

He will turn to the little angels, Agog to hear and obey, And point to the festering sin-loads With, "Take that rubbish away!"

Then the steps will be cleared of the burdens That we threw down at His feet; And we shall be washed in the tears of Christ, And our tears bathe His feet.

And the harvest of all our sinning That moment's shame will reap- When we look in the eyes that love us And know we have made them weep.