Perpetual Light : a memorial Part 10

Across the school-ground it would start To light my eyes, that yellow gleam,-- The window of the flaming heart, The chimney of the tossing dream, The scuffed and wooden porch of Heaven, The voice that came like a caress, The warm kind hands that once were given My carelessness.

It was a house you would not think Could hold such sacraments in things Or give the wild heart meat and drink Or give the stormy soul high wings Or chime small voices to such mirth Or crown the night with stars and flowers Or make upon this quaking earth Such steady hours.

Yet, that in storm it stood secure, And in the cold was warm with love, Shall its similitude endure Past trophies that men weary of, When two were out of fortune's reach, Building great empires round a name And ushering into casual speech Dim worlds aflame.

III

FOR THINKING EVIL

For thinking evil and planning shame The fire licked upward--at first a name, Then star-devouring rebellious flame.

The dread light lingered high on the sky.

It grew and reddened--a voiceless cry.

It spread and touched us, we knew not why.

And a man sat staring out to the night, Through tender silence, in warm lamplight, Thinking always, "The fire at height!"

That fire blowing with growing roar Saw us going, closing the door; Saw us parted--who meet no more.

For thinking evil--all men drawn Against a devil that dusked the dawn.

Each to his station. All men gone.

Some for the hilltop, fire to its brow,-- Death, long torture,--some for the plough,-- Some for the silence--that I know now.

IV

TRAVEL

You and I dreaming Planned the far-away, Cities and hedgerows, Distant summer day, When, the sun sinking,-- But oh, a distant sun!-- We would be thinking, "Think what we have done!"

You and I whispering Held the isles in fee By a chain of gra.s.ses, By your smile to me, Visioning some clime-- But long years between-- When we should say, sometime, "Think what we have seen!"

You and I wondering Of our old age, Turned a page pondering, And turned a page ...

Now, my hands pluck ravelled Strands I can't untie.

Yet--you always travelled Farther than I!

V

HER WAY

You loved the hay in the meadow, Flowers at noon, The high cloud's long shadow, Honey of June, The flaming woodways tangled With Fall on the hill, The towering night star-spangled And winter-still.

And you loved firelit faces, The hearth, the home,-- Your mind on golden traces, London or Rome,-- On quaintly-colored s.p.a.ces Where heavens glow With his quaint saints' embraces,-- Angelico.

In cloister and highway (Gold of G.o.d's dust!) And many an elfin byway You put your trust,-- A crock and a table, Love's end of day, And light of a storied stable Where kings must pray.

Somewhere there is a village For you and me, Hay field, hearth and tillage,-- Where can it be?

Prayers when birds awake, Daily bread, Toil for His sunlit sake Who raised us dead.

With this in mind you moved Through love and pain.

Hard though the long road proved, You turned again With a heart that knew its trust Not ill-bestowed.

With this you light the dust That clouds my road.

BY THE COUNSEL OF HER HANDS

"Propter veritatem, et mansuetudinem, et just.i.tiam: et deducet te mirabiliter dextera tua. Alleluia."

With her clear eyes lifted, Dreaming, lighting, swift and quelling On all darkness drifted From this earth, a vacant dwelling,-- With her haste flas.h.i.+ng, flowing Bright above all fear or scorning,-- I have seen my darling going Up the mountains of the morning!

Oh, like harps wrung thrilling, Like those viols that voice their answer To the wild still willing Of the heavens' necromancer, From the flowers around her rises Music--gold, more gold in glory-- First of all those pure surprises At the ending of the story.

Through the trees she pa.s.ses Where the purple spreads in shadow, Through the dew-bright gra.s.ses Of that heaven-quiet meadow, Up the way of climbing vines, Never faltering, never failing, Where the blue of heaven s.h.i.+nes Through the sun for only veiling.

Flowers and leaves together sing Like those birds in clouds that choir.

Aching-sweet from silver string, Purling flute and golden wire Music flows no mortal knows Even in April thronged with voices.

Deeper glory throbs and glows Till the trembling air rejoices.

Sweet and deep, sweet and deep In the heart dark and aching, Glamorous waves across my sleep Is that tide of splendor breaking.

Pure and high, pure and high, Shaking every star to chiming, Till the wonder-stricken sky Thrills and trembles to the rhyming!

Seraphim and cherubim On their wings' immaculate wonder Rise in whirlwinds from the dim, Pa.s.s through voids of rolling thunder, Mount from lightning into light, One great surge of praise awaking, White and white into the height-- And the music trembling--breaking--!

But above the wood of fear, On one white road forever, From the darkness mounts my dear In her still and bright endeavor, With her kind brave eyes, Honest hands and heart of healing,-- Lips that rapturously surmise-- Little smiles upon them stealing.

For--a violet twilight now Spreads--as arms had cast a shadow And the G.o.dhead stooped to bow Over phantom hill and meadow!

And--again--a field Floats before her--as her choice is-- Where _her_ heaven is revealed In those small and rippling voices.

Elfin flowers invoked alive, Fairy clouds from hives of honey Like no angry human hive, Billows of brightness swift and sunny, Pattering, chuckling, panting haste, Rosy-shy--though never sweeter Than the three her arms embraced-- Heaven's children flock to meet her!

There are harps in Heaven That must fail against that splendor; And the Sacred Seven Bow their heads in mute surrender.

Holy Mother of G.o.d, tonight Bend your star-bright eyes and br.i.m.m.i.n.g On the sweetness of that sight In that meadow, dusk and dimming!

For, with hands in grasp so small Of the tumbling ones that follow,-- With her smile upon them all, Up the hill and through the hollow,-- With that rich voice crooning, waking Sparkling gusts of joy and laughter,-- Climbs the Light of my forsaking, Mounts the Hope of my hereafter!

Harshest song, bow down!

Mutinous words!--to make immortal How the heavens in starlight drown As she enters in the Portal, How the Heavenly City glows, How the bells cry, "We have found her!"

As through tears and praise she goes With the children crowding round her!

STRENGTH BEYOND STRENGTH

"If thou hast run with the footmen and they have wearied thee, what wilt thou do with the hors.e.m.e.n?"

Breathless, beaten as with whips of wonder, Scourged and naked to the flying sky,-- Yet have I heard the hoofs of thunder, Seen the hors.e.m.e.n glimmering by.