Moments of Vision and Miscellaneous Verses Part 14

THE FIVE STUDENTS

The sparrow dips in his wheel-rut bath, The sun grows pa.s.sionate-eyed, And boils the dew to smoke by the paddock-path; As strenuously we stride, - Five of us; dark He, fair He, dark She, fair She, I, All beating by.

The air is shaken, the high-road hot, Shadowless swoons the day, The greens are sobered and cattle at rest; but not We on our urgent way, - Four of us; fair She, dark She, fair He, I, are there, But one--elsewhere.

Autumn moulds the hard fruit mellow, And forward still we press Through moors, briar-meshed plantations, clay-pits yellow, As in the spring hours--yes, Three of us: fair He, fair She, I, as heretofore, But--fallen one more.

The leaf drops: earthworms draw it in At night-time noiselessly, The fingers of birch and beech are skeleton-thin, And yet on the beat are we, - Two of us; fair She, I. But no more left to go The track we know.

Icicles tag the church-aisle leads, The flag-rope gibbers hoa.r.s.e, The home-bound foot-folk wrap their snow-flaked heads, Yet I still stalk the course, - One of us . . . Dark and fair He, dark and fair She, gone: The rest--anon.

THE WIND'S PROPHECY

I travel on by barren farms, And gulls glint out like silver flecks Against a cloud that speaks of wrecks, And bellies down with black alarms.

I say: "Thus from my lady's arms I go; those arms I love the best!"

The wind replies from dip and rise, "Nay; toward her arms thou journeyest."

A distant verge morosely gray Appears, while clots of flying foam Break from its muddy monochrome, And a light blinks up far away.

I sigh: "My eyes now as all day Behold her ebon loops of hair!"

Like bursting bonds the wind responds, "Nay, wait for tresses flas.h.i.+ng fair!"

From tides the lofty coastlands screen Come smitings like the slam of doors, Or hammerings on hollow floors, As the swell cleaves through caves unseen.

Say I: "Though broad this wild terrene, Her city home is matched of none!"

From the hoa.r.s.e skies the wind replies: "Thou shouldst have said her sea-bord one."

The all-prevailing clouds exclude The one quick timorous transient star; The waves outside where breakers are Huzza like a mad mult.i.tude.

"Where the sun ups it, mist-imbued,"

I cry, "there reigns the star for me!"

The wind outshrieks from points and peaks: "Here, westward, where it downs, mean ye!"

Yonder the headland, vulturine, Snores like old Skrymer in his sleep, And every chasm and every steep Blackens as wakes each pharos-s.h.i.+ne.

"I roam, but one is safely mine,"

I say. "G.o.d grant she stay my own!"

Low laughs the wind as if it grinned: "Thy Love is one thou'st not yet known."

Rewritten from an old copy.

DURING WIND AND RAIN

They sing their dearest songs - He, she, all of them--yea, Treble and tenor and ba.s.s, And one to play; With the candles mooning each face . . .

Ah, no; the years O!

How the sick leaves reel down in throngs!

They clear the creeping moss - Elders and juniors--aye, Making the pathways neat And the garden gay; And they build a shady seat . . .

Ah, no; the years, the years; See, the white storm-birds wing across!

They are blithely breakfasting all - Men and maidens--yea, Under the summer tree, With a glimpse of the bay, While pet fowl come to the knee . . .

Ah, no; the years O!

And the rotten rose is ript from the wall.

They change to a high new house, He, she, all of them--aye, Clocks and carpets and chairs On the lawn all day, And brightest things that are theirs . . .

Ah, no; the years, the years; Down their carved names the rain-drop ploughs.

HE PREFERS HER EARTHLY

This after-sunset is a sight for seeing, Cliff-heads of craggy cloud surrounding it.

--And dwell you in that glory-show?

You may; for there are strange strange things in being, Stranger than I know.

Yet if that chasm of splendour claim your presence Which glows between the ash cloud and the dun, How changed must be your mortal mould!

Changed to a firmament-riding earthless essence From what you were of old:

All too unlike the fond and fragile creature Then known to me . . . Well, shall I say it plain?

I would not have you thus and there, But still would grieve on, missing you, still feature You as the one you were.

THE DOLLS

"Whenever you dress me dolls, mammy, Why do you dress them so, And make them gallant soldiers, When never a one I know; And not as gentle ladies With frills and frocks and curls, As people dress the dollies Of other little girls?"

Ah--why did she not answer:- "Because your mammy's heed Is always gallant soldiers, As well may be, indeed.

One of them was your daddy, His name I must not tell; He's not the dad who lives here, But one I love too well."

MOLLY GONE