The Congo and Other Poems Part 8

I went down into the desert To meet Elijah-- Arisen from the dead.

I thought to find him in an echoing cave; _For so my dream had said_.

I went down into the desert To meet John the Baptist.

I walked with feet that bled, Seeking that prophet lean and brown and bold.

_I spied foul fiends instead_.

I went down into the desert To meet my G.o.d.

By him be comforted.

I went down into the desert To meet my G.o.d.

_And I met the devil in red_.

I went down into the desert To meet my G.o.d.

O, Lord my G.o.d, awaken from the dead!

I see you there, your thorn-crown on the ground, I see you there, half-buried in the sand.

I see you there, your white bones glistening, bare, _The carrion-birds a-wheeling round your head_.

Love and Law

True Love is founded in rocks of Remembrance In stones of Forbearance and mortar of Pain.

The workman lays wearily granite on granite, And bleeds for his castle 'mid suns.h.i.+ne and rain.

Love is not velvet, not all of it velvet, Not all of it banners, not gold-leaf alone.

'Tis stern as the ages and old as Religion.

With Patience its watchword, and Law for its throne.

The Perfect Marriage

I

I hate this yoke; for the world's sake here put it on: Knowing 'twill weigh as much on you till life is gone.

Knowing you love your freedom dear, as I love mine-- Knowing that love unchained has been our life's great wine: Our one great wine (yet spent too soon, and serving none; Of the two cups free love at last the deadly one).

II

We grant our meetings will be tame, not honey-sweet No longer turning to the tryst with flying feet.

We know the toil that now must come will spoil the bloom And tenderness of pa.s.sion's touch, and in its room Will come tame habit, deadly calm, sorrow and gloom.

Oh, how the battle scars the best who enter life!

Each soldier comes out blind or lame from the black strife.

Mad or diseased or d.a.m.ned of soul the best may come-- It matters not how merrily now rolls the drum, The fife shrills high, the horn sings loud, till no steps lag-- And all adore that silken flame, Desire's great flag.

III

We will build strong our tiny fort, strong as we can-- Holding one inner room beyond the sword of man.

Love is too wide, it seems to-day, to hide it there.

It seems to flood the fields of corn, and gild the air-- It seems to breathe from every brook, from flowers to sigh-- It seems a cataract poured down from the great sky; It seems a tenderness so vast no bush but shows Its haunting and transfiguring light where wonder glows.

It wraps us in a silken snare by shadowy streams, And wildering sweet and stung with joy your white soul seems A flame, a flame, conquering day, conquering night, Brought from our G.o.d, a holy thing, a mad delight.

But love, when all things beat it down, leaves the wide air, The heavens are gray, and men turn wolves, lean with despair.

Ah, when we need love most, and weep, when all is dark, Love is a pinch of ashes gray, with one live spark-- Yet on the hope to keep alive that treasure strange Hangs all earth's struggle, strife and scorn, and desperate change.

IV

Love?... we will scarcely love our babes full many a time-- Knowing their souls and ours too well, and all our grime-- And there beside our holy hearth we'll hide our eyes-- Lest we should flash what seems disdain without disguise.

Yet there shall be no wavering there in that deep trial-- And no false fire or stranger hand or traitor vile-- We'll fight the gloom and fight the world with strong sword-play, Entrenched within our block-house small, ever at bay-- As fellow-warriors, underpaid, wounded and wild, True to their battered flag, their faith still undefiled!

Darling Daughter of Babylon

Too soon you wearied of our tears.

And then you danced with spangled feet, Leading Belshazzar's chattering court A-tinkling through the shadowy street.

With mead they came, with chants of shame.

DESIRE'S red flag before them flew.

And Istar's music moved your mouth And Baal's deep shames rewoke in you.

Now you could drive the royal car; Forget our Nation's breaking load: Now you could sleep on silver beds-- (Bitter and dark was our abode.) And so, for many a night you laughed, And knew not of my hopeless prayer, Till G.o.d's own spirit whipped you forth From Istar's shrine, from Istar's stair.

Darling daughter of Babylon-- Rose by the black Euphrates flood-- Again your beauty grew more dear Than my slave's bread, than my heart's blood.

We sang of Zion, good to know, Where righteousness and peace abide....

What of your second sacrilege Carousing at Belshazzar's side?

Once, by a stream, we clasped tired hands-- Your paint and henna washed away.

Your place, you said, was with the slaves Who sewed the thick cloth, night and day.

You were a pale and holy maid Toil-bound with us. One night you said:-- "Your G.o.d shall be my G.o.d until I slumber with the patriarch dead."

Pardon, daughter of Babylon, If, on this night remembering Our lover walks under the walls Of hanging gardens in the spring, A venom comes from broken hope, From memories of your comrade-song Until I curse your painted eyes And do your flower-mouth too much wrong.

The Amaranth