Songs of Womanhood Part 7

The Sleeper

There lay a man on clovered ground Whose life was death, he slept so sound; A child bent low to watch his eyes-- He smiling waked, and saw the skies.

I know a soul now, fast asleep, Whose dreams are sad: I hear him weep; I bend and gaze for pity's sake-- But all in vain; he will not wake.

Stars

O Kings and Queens, that in my happy heart, As in a royal chapel, warm and white, Ensanctuaried are! I come to-night Beneath the moonless sky--this radiant chart Of the unfathomable Heavens where dart Beam-trailing stars--with lamp of love alight Unto your images; my reverent sight Enfolds you, and I bring you each your part Of piety. The Will that guides each star Gave jewels to my hands I might not hold, Whose grace remembered fills my palm. So rest, O Joy-givers! your kingdoms are afar, Yet here I own you, shrined in pearls and gold, The sovereign captives of my loyal breast.

Trelawny's Grave

I know a garden near the gates of Rome Where Life and Death hold hands in silence; here In solemn shade where towering cypress rear Their green eternal, white as wind-led foam Lie scattered stones that s.h.i.+eld the final home Of exiles. Fair their bed; by violets dear And swaying roses decked; above them, clear In bluest glory arches Heaven's dome.

'Twas here my heart encountered peace one day Beside an old man's grave that said: If G.o.d Condemn you live beyond your friend, this way You too may rest.--The heart is childish; dread Of earth-loss fades before Trelawny dead Close-gathered to his Sh.e.l.ley in the sod.

V.R.I.

JANUARY 22, 1901.

As, in a house where solemn-footed Death Has trodden, all the little children stand Before a silent door, with quickened breath, Holding each other tightly by the hand--

So we, O Mother! at the keyless door Stand gathered, heart-astir with nameless fears: A strength has left the hour; the world before Was warmer; and we face the day with tears.

Lines on a Picture by Mary Gow

O whirling World! I know a corner still Unsoiled by Hate and Strife: Where hushed and gentle is the voice of Life: Where Time--a summer rill Soft-flowing through the gra.s.s--in measure slow Sings sweetly as we go.

Here is a room wherein the white day gleams: Silence o'er Peace has spread her pearly wings: A smiling woman reads of simple things: A child's blue eyes are blinded by their dreams....

To Serenity

Before a Madonna--by Botticelli.

Thine is the face our driven souls shall wear, O sweet serenity!--No earthly wind Can rend thine azure mantle now, nor tear Those veils that s.h.i.+eld the radiant locks they bind.

Thy brow is calm with storm appeased; thy lids Are heavy with the wisdom of all tears: Thy mouth is strong with silence that forbids Weary lament and craven wail of fears.

Within thy guarded bosom now no fire Is ardent; thou hast hidden all thy scars: We too may tread the ashes of desire, And wing our spirits thus to touch the stars.

ELEVEN SONNETS

I

I will not close the door, O Love, on thee, Although I fear thee still. In days of old Thy magic echoes lured me on to be The slave of dreams; but now that I behold The earth again, and that my wings are gone, I will take refuge, simply, on thy breast.

No miracle I seek, no rapturous dawn Of an unearthly day; I will but rest My weary eyes, and lay between thy hands These empty fingers that have ceased to clutch At stars. Because my spirit understands Renouncement, thou wilt give, maybe. Not much I ask of thee: I only ask to keep Thee near, O Love! until my heart's asleep.

II

My Friend of Friends! in you my heart's at rest, That wandered homeless as the ocean-wind Hither and thither, seeking still to find Some refuge. As a s.h.i.+p that east and west Roams havenless, and quits each sh.o.r.e distressed, So wandered I, so left each land behind, Bearing my soul as helmsman, sage but blind; And still we journeyed on at Fate's behest.

But now I hold my harbour, and the s.h.i.+p Casts anchor here. The unnested winds that blow May reach me still and rock me to and fro.

What matter? Here is Peace that bids me slip Closer and closer to the enfolding sh.o.r.e, Lower the sails, and stay for evermore.

III

Are we not happy? though this bond of ours Be strange and out of harmony with life As men accept it, in this world of strife Between the spirit and the flesh?--Dark hours Are in the doom of every love; no flowers Bloom rainless; wind and war and pain are rife Within us all.--Yet we are happy. Wife Or sister, these are earth-words; the soul showers Its gifts of love and seeks no earthly bond.

So ask we none but, smiling, soul to soul Stand gathered in Love's very essence, whole And indivisible. These white strong bands Suffice; 'tis but the sh.e.l.l, too frail and fond, That weeps, alas! and wrings her mortal hands.

IV

Farewell! you cannot go from me, my dear, For I have closed you in my inmost heart, Beyond the reach of earthly things that part The loving from the loved. Now far or near Ceases to be; I am where you are; here Or there, no matter. Mild should be the smart Of leave-taking, where nothing stays apart But what is mortal, and where souls are clear.

Beloved! I can but lose you earthly-wise; The hunger of the years is stilled; no pain Of solitude can chill my heart again, Possessing you. Therefore with steadfast eyes I say farewell, O brother! nor dare weep My little loss, with all this wealth to keep.