Forty-Two Poems - LightNovelsOnl.com
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A MIRACLE OF BETHLEHEM
SCENE: A street of that village.
Three men with ropes, accosted by a stranger.
THE STRANGER
I pray you, tell me where you go With heads averted from the skies, And long ropes trailing in the snow, And resolution in your eyes.
THE FIRST MAN
I am a lover sick of love, For scorn rewards my constancy; And now I hate the stars above, Because my dear will naught of me.
THE SECOND MAN
I am a beggar man, and play Songs with a splendid swing in them, But I have seen no food to-day.
They want no song in Bethlehem.
THE THIRD MAN
I am an old man, Sir, and blind, A child of darkness since my birth.
I cannot even call to mind The beauty of the scheme of earth.
Therefore I sought to understand A secret hid from mortal eyes, So in a far and fragrant land I talked with men accounted wise,
And I implored the Indian priest For wisdom from his holy snake, Yet am no wiser in the least, And have not seen the darkness break.
STRANGER
And whither go ye now, unhappy three?
THE THREE MEN WITH ROPES
Sir, in our strange and special misery We met this night, and swore in bitter pride To sing one song together, friend with friend, And then, proceeding to the country side, To bind this cordage to a barren tree, And face to face to give our lives an end, And only thus shall we be satisfied.
(They make to continue their road)
THE STRANGER
Stay for a moment. Great is your despair, But G.o.d is kind. What voice from over there?
A WOMAN (from a lattice)
My lover, O my lover, come to me!
FIRST MAN
G.o.d with you. (he runs to the window)
STRANGER
Ah, how swiftly gone is he!
MANY VOICES, (heard singing in a cottage)
There is a softness in the night A wonder in that splendid star That fills us with delight, Poor foolish working people that we are, And only fit to keep A little garden or a dozen sheep.
Old broken women at the fire Have many ancient tales they sing, How the whole world's desire Should blossom here, and how a child should bring New glory to his race Though born in so contemptible a place.
Let all come in, if any brother go In shame or hunger, cold or fear, Through all this waste of snow.
To night the Star, the Rose, the Song are near, And still inside the door Is full provision for another score.
(The Beggar runs to them)
THE STRANGER (to the Blind Man)
Do you not mean to share these joys?
THE BLIND MAN
Aweary of this earthly noise I pace my silent way.
Come you and help me tie this rope: I would not lose my only hope.
Already clear the birds I hear, Already breaks the day.
STRANGER
O foolish and most blind old man, Where are those other two?
THE BLIND MAN
Why, one is wed and t'other fed: Small thanks they gave to you.
STRANGER
To me no thanks are due.
Yet since I have some little power Bequeathed me at this holy hour, I tell you, friend, that G.o.d shall grant This night to you your dearest want.
THE BLIND MAN
Why this sweet odour? Why this flame?
I am afraid. What is your name?
THE STRANGER
Ask your desire, for this great night Is pa.s.sing.
THE BLIND MAN
Sir, I ask my sight.
