The Miracle and Other Poems Part 11

"But thou art queen, and thou art free;--free now to go or stay, I would not bind thee to my side--not by one golden hair.-- Leave thou this land of peril e'er the breaking of the day, Or give thy life to my dark life--and bear what it doth bear."

Then blanched her face to whiteness of the lilies on her gown, And low she bowed as lilies bow in drift of wind and rain; "My Lord," she said, "I have no will except to lay it down At thy desire. As I have done, so will I do again.

"Thou art my king; my son is thine. It is not mine to say That I will bear him hence.--Yet gropes my soul unto a light; The quarrel is 'twixt Heaven and thee alone--so I will stay With him I love within the tower throughout this fateful night."

"And if the Angel cometh through the walls of stone and bra.s.s-- And if he toucheth Egypt's son, to seal his gentle breath, Then will we know that G.o.d is G.o.d, He who hath right to pa.s.s Our little doors, for He Himself is Lord of Life and Death."

O when the desert blossomed like a mystic silver rose, And the moon shone on the palace, deep guarded to the gate, And softly touched the lowly homes fast barred against their foes, And lit the faces hewn of stone, that seemed to watch and wait--

There came a cry--a rending cry--upon the quivering air, The sudden wild lamenting of a nation in its pain, For the first-born sons of Egypt, the young, the strong, the fair-- Had fallen into dreamless sleep--and would not wake again.

And within the palace tower the little prince slept well, His head upon his mother's heart, that knew no more alarms; For at the midnight hour--0 most sweet and strange to tell-- She too slept deeply as the child close folded in her arms.

Hard through the city rode the king, unarmed, unhelmeted, Toward the land he loaned his bondsmen, the country kept in peace; He swayed upon his saddle, and he looked as looked the dead-- The people stared and wondered though their weeping did not cease.

On did he ride to Goshen, and he called "Arise! Arise!

Thou leader of the Israelites, 'tis I who bid you go!

Take thou these people hence, before the sun hath lit the skies;-- Get thee beyond the border of this land of death and woe!"

Across the plains of Egypt through the shadows of the night Came the sound as of an army moving onward steadily, And their leader read his way by the stars' eternal light While all the legions followed on their journey to the sea.

The moon that s.h.i.+neth overhead once saw these mysteries-- And then the world was young, that hath these many years been old; If Egypt drank her bitter cup down even to the lees Who careth now? 'Tis but an ancient tale that hath been told.

Yet still we hear the footsteps--as he goeth to and fro-- Of Azrael, the Angel, that the Lord G.o.d sent below, To Egypt--long ago.

A SONG OF POPPIES

I love red poppies! Imperial red poppies!

Sun-wors.h.i.+ppers are they; Gladly as trees live through a hundred summers They live one little day.

I love red poppies! Impa.s.sioned scarlet poppies!

Ever their strange perfume Seems like an essence brewed by fairy people From an immortal bloom.

I love red poppies! Red, silken, swaying poppies!

Deep in their hearts they keep A magic cure for woe--a draught of Lethe-- A lotus-gift of sleep.

I love red poppies! Soft silver-stemmed, red poppies, That from the rain and sun Gather a balm to heal some earth-born sorrow, When their glad day is done.

A PAGAN PRAYER

Lord of all Life! When my hours are done, Take me and make me anew-- And give me back to the earth and the sun, And the sky's unlimited blue.

The nightingale sings in an ecstasy To the moonlit April night, But my songs are locked in the heart of me, Like birds that may not take flight.

The little purple-winged swallows that fly Through waves of the upper air, Have a sweeter liberty, Lord, than I, Who may not follow them there.

Pavilions of suns.h.i.+ne--tents of the rain, For these, the wild and the free; And for us walled garden and window-pane, And bolt and staple and key.

We are worn with wisdom that never brings Peace to the world and its woe-- For a s.p.a.ce with Thy joyous lesser things, Teach me the faith I would know.

A LOVE SONG

Oh haste, my Sweet! Impatient now I wait, The crescent moon swings low, it groweth late, A night bird sings, of Life, and Love, and Fate!

Oh haste, my Sweet! Youth and its gladness goes, Joy hath one summer time, like to the rose, Love only lives through all the winter snows.

Then haste, my Sweet! These hours are all our own, And see! A rose leaf on the night breeze blown!

For thee I wait--for thee I wait alone!