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Poems
By
G. K. Chesterton
Contents
TO= EDMUND CLERIHEW BENTLEY - THE DEDICATION OF THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY <= !--[if supportFields]> =
TO= HILAIRE BELLOC - THE DEDICATION OF THE NAPOLEON OF NOTTING HILL
TH= E MARCH OF THE BLACK MOUNTAIN 1913
TH= E CRUSADER RETURNS FROM CAPTIVITY
A = HYMN FOR THE CHURCH MILITANT
A = CHRISTMAS SONG FOR THREE GUILDS
AN= TICHRIST, OR THE REUNION OF CHRISTENDOM: AN ODE.
THE REVOLUTIONIST: OR LINES TO A STATESMAN.
TH= E HORRIBLE HISTORY OF JONES
SO= NNET WITH THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON
WH= EN I CAME BACK TO FLEET STREET
EN= VOI =
A = BALLADE OF AN ANTI-PURITAN
EN= VOI =
A = BALLADE OF A BOOK-REVIEWER
EN= VOI =
EN= VOI =
EN= VOI =
I
TO EDMUND CLERIHEW BENTLE=
Y - THE
DEDICATION OF THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY
A cloud was on t=
he
mind of men, and wailing went the weather, Yea, a sick=
cloud
upon the soul when we were boys together. Science ann=
ounced
nonentity and art admired decay; The world w=
as old
and ended: but you and I were gay. Round us in=
antic
order their crippled vices came-- Lust that h=
ad
lost its laughter, fear that had lost its shame. Like the white lock of
Whistler, that lit our aimless gloom, Men showed =
their
own white feather as proudly as a plume. Life was a =
fly
that faded, and death a drone that stung; The world w=
as
very old indeed when you and I were young. They twiste=
d even
decent sin to shapes not to be named: Men were as=
hamed
of honour; but we were not ashamed. Weak if we =
were
and foolish, not thus we failed, not thus; When that b=
lack
Baal blocked the heavens he had no hymns from us. Children we
were--our forts of sand were even as weak as we, High as the=
y went
we piled them up to break that bitter sea. Fools as we=
were
in motley, all jangling and absurd, When all ch=
urch
bells were silent our cap and bells were heard.
Not all unhelped we held the =
fort,
our tiny flags unfurled; Some giants
laboured in that cloud to lift it from the world. I find agai=
n the
book we found, I feel the hour that flings Far out of
fish-shaped Paumanok some cry of cleaner things; And the Gre=
en
Carnation withered, as in forest fires that pass, Roared in t=
he
wind of all the world ten million leaves of grass; Or sane and=
sweet
and sudden as a bird sings in the rain Truth out of
Tusitala spoke and pleasure out of pain. Yea, cool a=
nd
clear and sudden as a bird sings in the grey, Dunedin to =
Samoa
spoke, and darkness unto day, But we were
young; we lived to see God break their bitter charms, God and the=
good
Republic come riding back in arms: We have seen the city of Mansoul, e=
ven as
it rocked, relieved--Blessed are they wh=
o did
not see, but being blind, believed.
This is a tale of
those old fears, even of those emptied hells, And none bu=
t you
shall understand the true thing that it tells-- Of what col=
ossal
gods of shame could cow men and yet crash, Of what huge
devils hid the stars, yet fell at a pistol flash. The doubts =
that
were so plain to chase, so dreadful to withstand-- Oh, who sha=
ll
understand but you; yea, who shall understand? The doubts =
that
drove us through the night as we two talked amain, And day had
broken on the streets e'er it broke upon the brain. Between us,=
by
the peace of God, such truth can now be told; Yea, there =
is strength
in striking root, and good in growing old. We have fou=
nd
common things at last, and marriage and a creed. And I may s=
afely
write it now, and you may safely read.
TO HILAIRE BELLOC - THE
DEDICATION OF THE NAPOLEON OF NOTTING HILL
For every tiny t=
own or
place God
made the stars especially; Babies look=
up
with owlish face And
see them tangled in a tree: You saw a m=
oon
from Sussex Downs, A
Sussex moon, untravelled still, I saw a moo=
n that
was the town's, The
largest lamp on Campden Hill.
Yea, Heaven is
everywhere at home. The
big blue cap that always fits, And so it i=
s (be
calm; they come To
goal at last, my wandering wits), So it is wi=
th the
heroic thing; This =
shall
not end for the world's end, And though =
the
sullen engines swing, Be
you not much afraid, my friend.
This did not end=
by
Nelson's urn Where
an immortal England sits-- Nor where y=
our
tall young men in turn Drank death like wine at
Austerlitz. And when the
pedants bade us mark What
cold mechanic happenings Must come; =
our
souls said in the dark, "Belike;
but there are likelier things."
Likelier across =
these
flats afar, These
sulky levels smooth and free, The drums s=
hall
crash a waltz of war And
Death shall dance with Liberty; Likelier the
barricades shall blare Slaughter
below and smoke above, And death a=
nd
hate and hell declare That
men have found a thing to love.
Far from your su=
nny
uplands set I saw
the dream; the streets I trod, The lit str=
aight
streets shot out and met The
starry streets that point to God; The legend =
of an
epic hour A
child I dreamed, and dream it still, Under the g=
reat
grey water-tower That
strikes the stars on Campden Hill
Words, for alas =
my
trade is words, a barren burst of rhyme, Rubbed
by a hundred rhymesters, battered a thousand times, Take them, =
you,
that smile on strings, those nobler sounds than mine, The
words that never lie, or brag, or flatter, or malign.
I give a hand to=
my
lady, another to my friend, To
whom you too have given a hand; and so before the end We four may=
pray,
for all the years, whatever suns beset, The
sole two prayers worth praying--to live and not forget.
The pale leaf fa=
lls in
pallor, but the green leaf turns to gold; We
that have found it good to be young shall find it good to be old; Life that
bringeth the marriage bell, the cradle and the grave, Life
that is mean to the mean of heart, and only brave to the brave.
In the calm of t=
he
last white winter, when all the past is ours, Old
tears are frozen as jewels, old storms frosted as flowers. Dear Lady, =
may we
meet again, stand up again, we four, Beneath
the burden of the years, and praise the earth once more.
LEPANTO=
White founts fal=
ling
in the Courts of the sun, And the Sol=
dan of
Byzantium is smiling as they run; There is la=
ughter
like the fountains in that face of all men feared, It stirs the
forest darkness, the darkness of his beard, It curls the
blood-red crescent, the crescent of his lips, For the inm=
ost
sea of all the earth is shake with his ships. They have d=
ared
the white republics up the cape of Italy, They have d=
ashed
the Adriatic round the Lion of the Sea, And the Pop=
e has
cast his arms abroad for agony and loss, And called =
the
kings of Christendom for swords about the Cross. The cold qu=
een of
England is looking in the glass; The shadow =
of the
Valois is yawning at the Mass; From evening
isles fantastical rings faint the Spanish gun, And the Lord upon the G=
olden
Horn is laughing in the sun.
Dim drums throbb=
ing,
in the hills half heard, Where only =
on a
nameless throne a crownless prince has stirred, Where, rise=
n from
a doubtful seat and half attainted stall, The last kn=
ight
of Europe takes weapons from the wall, The last and
lingering troubadour to whom the bird has sung, That once w=
ent
singing southward when all the world was young. In that eno=
rmous
silence, tiny and unafraid, Comes up al=
ong a
winding road the noise of the Crusade.
Strong gongs gro=
aning
as the guns boom far, Don John of
Austria is going to the war, Stiff flags
straining in the night-blasts cold In the gloom
black-purple, in the glint old-gold, Torchlight
crimson on the copper kettle-drums, Then the tu=
ckets,
then the trumpets, then the cannon, and he comes. Don John la=
ughing
in the brave beard curled. Spuming of =
his
stirrups like the thrones of all the world, Holding his=
head
up for a flag of all the free. Love-light =
of
Spain--hurrah! Death-light=
of
Africa! Don
John of Austria Is riding t=
o the
sea.
Mahound is in his
paradise above the evening star, (Don John of
Austria is going to the war.) He moves a =
mighty
turban on the timeless houri's knees, His turban =
that
is woven of the sunsets and the seas. He shakes t=
he
peacock gardens as he rises from his ease, And he stri=
des
among the tree-tops and is taller than the trees, And his voi=
ce
through all the garden is a thunder sent to bring Black Azrae=
l and
Ariel and Ammon on the wing. Giants and =
the
Genii, Multiplex o=
f wing
and eye, Whose strong
obedience broke the sky When Solomo=
n was
king.
They rush in red=
and
purple from the red clouds of the morn, From temples
where the yellow gods shut up their eyes in scorn; They rise in
green robes roaring from the green hells of the sea Where fallen
skies and evil hues and eyeless creatures be; On them the
sea-valves cluster and the grey sea-forests curl, Splashed wi=
th a
splendid sickness, the sickness of the pearl; They swell =
in
sapphire smoke out of the blue cracks of the ground,-- They gather=
and
they wonder and give worship to Mahound. And he sait=
h,
"Break up the mountains where the hermit-folk can hide, And sift th=
e red
and silver sands lest bone of saint abide, And chase t=
he
Giaours flying night and day, not giving rest, For that wh=
ich
was our trouble comes again out of the west. We have set=
the
seal of Solomon on all things under sun, Of knowledg=
e and
of sorrow and endurance of things done, But a noise=
is in
'the mountains, in the mountains, and I know The voice t=
hat
shook our palaces--four hundred years ago: It is he th=
at
saith not 'Kismet'; it is he that knows not Fate; It is Richa=
rd, it
is Raymond, it is Godfrey in the gate! It is he wh=
ose
loss is laughter when he counts the wager worth, Put down yo=
ur
feet upon him, that our peace be on the earth." For he heard
drums groaning and he heard guns jar, (Don John of
Austria is going to the war.) Sudden and
still--hurrah! Bolt from I=
beria!
Don J=
ohn of
Austria Is
gone by Alcalar.
St. Michael's on=
his
Mountain in the sea-roads of the north (Don John of
Austria is girt and going forth.) Where the g=
rey
seas glitter and the sharp tides shift And the sea=
-folk
labour and the red sails lift. He shakes h=
is
lance of iron and he claps his wings of stone; The noise i=
s gone
through Normandy; the noise is gone alone; The North i=
s full
of tangled things and texts and aching eyes And dead is=
all
the innocence of anger and surprise, And Christi=
an
killeth Christian in a narrow dusty And Christi=
an
dreadeth Christ that hath a newer face of doom, And Christi=
an
hateth Mary that God kissed in Galilee, But Don Joh=
n of
Austria is riding to the sea. Don John ca=
lling
through the blast and the eclipse Crying with=
the
trumpet, with the trumpet of his lips, Trumpet that
sayeth ha! =
Domino
gloria! Don
John of Austria Is shouting=
to
the ships.
King Philip's in=
his
closet with the Fleece about his neck (Don John of
Austria is armed upon the deck.) The walls a=
re
hung with velvet that is black and soft as sin, And little =
dwarfs
creep out of it and little dwarfs creep in. He holds a
crystal phial that has colours like the moon, He touches,=
and
it tingles, and he trembles very And his fac=
e is
as a fungus of a leprous white and grey Like plants=
in
the high houses that are shuttered from the day. And death i=
s in
the phial and the end of noble work, But Don Joh=
n of
Austria has fired upon the Turk. Don John's hunting, and his hounds =
have
bayed--Booms away past I=
taly
the rumour of his raid. Gun upon gu=
n, ha!
ha! G=
un
upon gun, hurrah! Don John of
Austria Has
loosed the cannonade.
The Pope was in =
his
chapel before day or battle broke, (Don John of
Austria is hidden in the smoke.) The hidden =
room
in man's house where God sits all the year, The secret =
window
whence the world looks small and very dear. He sees as =
in a
mirror on the monstrous twilight sea The crescent of h=
is
cruel ships whose name is mystery; They fling =
great
shadows foe-wards, making Cross and Castle dark, They veil t=
he
plumed lions on the galleys of St. Mark; And above t=
he
ships are palaces of brown, black-bearded chiefs, And below t=
he
ships are prisons, where with multitudinous griefs, Christian
captives sick and sunless, all a labouring race repines Like a race=
in
sunken cities, like a nation in the mines. They are lo=
st
like slaves that swat, and in the skies of morning hung The stair-w=
ays of
the tallest gods when tyranny was young. They are
countless, voiceless, hopeless as those fallen or fleeing on Before the =
high
Kings' horses in the granite of Babylon. And many a =
one
grows witless in his quiet room in hell Where a yel=
low
face looks inward through the lattice of his cell, And he find=
s his
God forgotten, and he seeks no more a sign(But Don John of
Austria has burst the battle-line!) Don John po=
unding
from the slaughter-painted poop, Purpling al=
l the
ocean like a bloody pirate's sloop, Scarlet run=
ning
over on the silvers and the golds, Breaking of=
the
hatches up and bursting of the holds, Thronging o=
f the
thousands up that labour under sex <=
/span> White for bliss a=
nd
blind for sun and stunned for liberty. Vivat Hispa=
nia! Domino Glor=
ia! Don John of
Austria Has
set his people free!
Cervantes on his
galley sets the sword back in the sheath (Don John of
Austria rides homeward with a wreath.) And he sees
across a weary land a straggling road in Spain, Up which a =
lean
and foolish knight for ever rides in vain, And he smil=
es,
but not as Sultans smile, and settles back the blade.... (But Don Jo=
hn of
Austria rides home from the Crusade.)
THE MARCH OF THE BLACK
MOUNTAIN 1913
What will there =
be to
remember Of us
in the days to be? Whose faith=
was a
trodden ember And
even our doubt not free; Parliaments=
built
of paper, And
the soft swords of gold That twist =
like a
waxen taper In
the weak aggressor's hold; A hush arou=
nd
Hunger, slaying A
city of serfs unfed; What shall =
we
leave for a saying To
praise us when we are dead? But men sha=
ll
remember the Mountain That
broke its forest chains, And men sha=
ll
remember the Mountain When
it arches against the plains: And christen
their children from it And
season and ship and street, When the Mo=
untain
came to Mahomet And
looked small before his feet.
His head was as =
high
as the crescent Of
the moon that seemed his crown, And on glor=
y of
past and present The
light of his eyes looked down; One hand we=
nt out
to the morning Over Brahmin and
Buddhist slain, And one to =
the
West in scorning To
point at the scars of Spain; One foot on=
the
hills for warden By
the little Mountain trod; And one was=
in a
garden And
stood on the grave of God. But men shall remember =
the
Mountain, Though
it fall down like a tree, They shall =
see
the sign of the Mountain Faith
cast into the sea; Though the
crooked swords overcome it And
the Crooked Moon ride free, When the Mo=
untain
comes to Mahomet It
has more life than he.
But what will th=
ere be
to remember Or
what will there be to see-- Though our =
towns
through a long November Abide
to the end and be? Strength of=
slave
and mechanic Whose
iron is ruled by gold, Peace of im=
mortal
panic, Love
that is hate grown cold-- Are these a=
bribe
or a warning That
we turn not to the sun, Nor look on=
the
lands of morning Where
deeds at last are done? Where men s=
hall
remember the Mountain When
truth forgets the plain-- And walk in=
the
way of the Mountain That
did not fail in vain; Death and e=
clipse
and comet, Thunder
and seals that rend: When the Mo=
untain
came to Mahomet; Because it =
was
the end.
BLESSED ARE THE PEACEMAKE=
RS
Of old with a di=
vided
heart I saw
my people's pride expand, Since a man=
's
soul is torn apart By
mother earth and fatherland.
I knew, through =
many a
tangled tale,
A blacker thing =
than
blood's own dye Weighed
down great Hawkins on the sea; And Nelson =
turned
his blindest eye On
Naples and on liberty.
Therefore to you=
my
thanks, O throne, O
thousandfold and frozen folk, For whose c=
old
frenzies all your own The
Battle of the Rivers broke;
Who have no fait=
h a
man could mourn. Nor
freedom any man desires; But in a new
clean light of scorn Close
up my quarrel with my sires;
Who bring my Eng=
lish
heart to me, Who
mend me like a broken toy; Till I can =
see
you fight and flee, And
laugh as if I were a boy.
Low and brown ba=
rns
thatched and repatched and tattered Where
I had seven sons until to-day, A little hi=
ll of
hay your spur has scattered.... This
is not Paris. You have lost the way.
You, staring at =
your
sword to find it brittle, Surprised
at the surprise that was your plan, Who shaking=
and
breaking barriers not a little Find
never more the death-door of Sedan.
Must I for more =
than
carnage call you claimant, Paying
you a penny for each son you slay? Man, the wh=
ole
globe in gold were no repayment For
what you have lost. And how shall I repay?
What is the pric=
e of
that red spark that caught me From
a kind farm that never had a name? What is the=
price
of that dead man they brought me? For
other dead men do not look the same.
How should I pay=
for
one poor graven steeple Whereon
you shattered what you shall not know, How should =
I pay
you, miserable people? How
should I pay you everything you owe?34
Unhappy, can I g=
ive
you back your honour? Though
I forgave would any man forget? While all t=
he
great green land has trampled on her The
treason and terror of the night we met.
Not any more in
vengeance or in pardon An
old wife bargains for a bean that's hers. You have no=
word
to break: no heart to harden. Ride
on and prosper. You have lost your spurs.
THE CRUSADER RETURNS FROM
CAPTIVITY
I have come forth
alive from the land of purple and poison and glamour, Where
the charm is strong as the torture, being chosen to change the mind; Torture of
wordless dance and wineless feast without clamour, Palace
hidden in palace, garden with garden behind;
Women veiled in =
the
sun, or bare as brass in the shadows, And
the endless eyeless patterns where each thing seems an eye.... And my stri=
de is
on Caesar's sand where it slides to the English meadows, To
the last low woods of Sussex and the road that goes to Rye.
In the cool and
careless woods the eyes of the eunuchs burned not, But
the wild hawk went before me, being free to return or roam, The hills h=
ad
broad unconscious backs; and the tree-tops turned not, And
the huts were heedless of me: and I knew I was at home.
And I saw my lad=
y afar
and her holy freedom upon her, A
head, without veil, averted, and not to be turned with charms, And I heard=
above
bannerets blown the intolerant trumpets of honour, That
usher with iron laughter the coming of Christian arms.
My shield hangs
stainless still; but I shall not go where they praise it, A
sword is still at my side, but I shall not ride with the King. Only to wal=
k and
to walk and to stun my soul and amaze it, A day
with the stone and the sparrow and every marvellous thing.
I have trod the =
curves
of the Crescent, in the maze of them that adore it, Curved
around doorless chambers and unbeholden abodes, But I walk =
in the
maze no more; on the sign of the cross I swore it, The
wild white cross of freedom, the sign of the white cross-roads.
And the land sha=
ll
leave me or take, and the Woman take me or leave me, There
shall be no more Night, or nightmares seen in a glass; But Life sh=
all
hold me alive, and Death shall never deceive me As
long as I walk in England in the lanes that let me pass.
GLENCOE=
The star-crowned
cliffs seem hinged upon the sky, The clouds =
are floating
rags across them curled, They open t=
o us
like the gates of God Cloven in t=
he
last great wall of all the world.
I looked, and sa=
w the
valley of my soul Where naked
crests fight to achieve the skies, Where no gr=
ain
grows nor wine, no fruitful thing, Only big wo=
rds
and starry blasphemies.
But you have clo=
thed
with mercy like a moss The barren
violence of its primal wars, Sterile alt=
hough
they be and void of rule, You know my
shapeless crags have Wed the stars.
How shall I than=
k you,
O courageous heart. That of this
wasteful world you had no fear; But bade it
blossom in clear faith and sent Your fair
flower-feeding rivers: even as here
The peat burns
brimming from their cups of stone Glow brown =
and
blood-red down the vast decline As if Christ
stood on yonder clouded peak And turned =
its
thousand waters into wine.
There is a place=
where
lute and lyre are broken. Where scrol=
ls are
torn and on a wild wind go, Where table=
ts
stand wiped naked for a token, Where laure=
ls
wither and the daisies grow.
Lo: I too join t=
he
brotherhood of silence, I am Love's
Trappist and you ask in vain, For man thr=
ough
Love's gate, even as through Death's gate, Goeth alone=
and
comes not back again.
Yet here I pause=
, look
back across the threshold. Cry to my
brethren, though the world be old, Prophets and
sages, questioners and doubters, O world, old
world, the best hath ne'er been told!
Now that I kneel=
at
the throne, O Queen, Pity and pa=
rdon
me. M=
uch
have I striven to sing the same, Brother of =
beast
and tree; Yet when the
stars catch me alone Never a lin=
net
sings-- And the blood of =
a man
is a bitter voice And cries f=
or
foolish things.
Not for me be the
vaunt of woe; Was not I f=
rom a
boy V=
owed
with the helmet and spear and spur To the bloo=
d-red
banner of joy? A man may s=
ing
his psalms to a stone, Pour his bl=
ood
for a weed, But the tea=
rs of
a man are a sudden thing, And come no=
t of
his creed.
Nay, but the ear=
th is
kind to me, Though I cr=
y for
a Star, Leaves and
grasses, feather and flower, Cover the f=
oolish
scar, Prophets and
saints and seraphim Lighten the=
load
with song, And the hea=
rt of
a man is a heavy load For a man t=
o bear
along.
Sounding brass a=
nd
tinkling cymbal, He
that made me sealed my ears, And the pom=
p of
gorgeous noises, Waves
of triumph, waves of tears,
Thundered empty =
round
and past me, Shattered,
lost for ever more, Ancient gol=
d of
pride and passion, Wrecked
like treasure on a shore.
But I saw her ch=
eek
and forehead Change,
as at a spoken word, And I saw h=
er
head uplifted Like
a lily to the Lord.
Nought is lost, =
but
all transmuted, Ears
are sealed, yet eyes have seen; Saw her smi=
les (O
soul be worthy!), Saw
her tears (O heart be clean!).
Though giant rai=
ns put
out the sun, Here
stand I for a sign. Though Eart=
h be
filled with waters dark, My
cup is filled with wine. Tell to the
trembling priests that here Under
the deluge rod, One nameles=
s,
tattered, broken man Stood
up and drank to God.
Sun has been whe=
re the
rain is now, Bees
in the heat to hum, Haply a hum=
ming
maiden came, Now
let the Deluge come: Brown of au=
reole,
green of garb, Straight
as a golden rod, Drink to the
throne of thunder now! Drink
to the wrath of God.
High in the wrec=
k I
held the cup, I
clutched my rusty sword, I cocked my
tattered feather To
the glory of the Lord. Not undone =
were
the heaven and earth, This
hollow world thrown up, Before one =
man
had stood up straight! And
drained it like a cup.
Other loves may =
sink
and settle, other loves may loose and slack, But I wander like a min=
strel
with a harp upon his back, Though the =
harp
be on my bosom, though I finger and I fret, Still, my h=
ope is
all before me: for I cannot play it yet.
In your strings =
is hid
a music that no hand hath ere let fall, In your sou=
l is
sealed a pleasure that you have not known at all; Pleasure su=
btle
as your spirit, strange and slender as your frame, Fiercer tha=
n the
pain that folds you, softer than your sorrow's name.
Not as mine, my =
soul's
anointed, not as mine the rude and light Easy mirth =
of
many faces, swaggering pride of song and fight; Something
stranger, something sweeter, something waiting you afar, Secret as y=
our
stricken senses, magic as your sorrows are.
But on this, God=
's
harp supernal, stretched but to be stricken once. Hoary Time =
is a
beginner, Life a bungler, Death a dunce. But I will =
not
fear to match them--no, by God, I will not fear, I will lear=
n you,
I will play you and the stars stand still to hear.
It is something =
to
have wept as we have wept, It is somet=
hing
to have done as we have done, It is somet=
hing
to have watched when all men slept, And seen the
stars which never see the sun.
It is something =
to
have smelt the mystic rose, Although it=
break
and leave the thorny rods, It is somet=
hing
to have hungered once as those Must hunger=
who
have ate the bread of gods.
To have seen you=
and
your unforgotten face, Brave as a =
blast
of trumpets for the fray. Pure as whi=
te
lilies in a watery space, It were
something, though you went from me to-day.
To have known the
things that from the weak are furled, Perilous an=
cient
passions, strange and high; It is somet=
hing
to be wiser than the world, It is somet=
hing
to be older than the sky.
In a time of sce=
ptic
moths and cynic rusts, And fatted =
lives
that of their sweetness tire, In a world =
of
flying loves and fading lusts, It is somet=
hing
to be sure of a desire.
Lo, blessed are =
our
ears for they have heard; Yea, blesse=
d are
our eyes for they have seen: Let thunder=
break
on man and beast and bird And the
lightning. It is something to have been.
=
.................COME
AWAY-- =
WITH
THE FAIRIES, HAND IN HAND, =
FOR
THE WORLD IS MORE FULL OF WEEPING =
THAN
YOU CAN UNDERSTAND.
=
&nb=
sp;
W.B. Yeats.
From the Wood of=
the
Old Wives' Fables They
glittered out of the grey, And with al=
l the
Armies of Elf-land I
strove like a beast at bay;
With only a righ=
t arm
wearied, Only
a red sword worn, And the pri=
de of
the House of Adam That
holdeth the stars in scorn.
For they came wi=
th
chains of flowers And
lilies lances free, There in the
quiet greenwood To
take my grief from me.
And I said, &quo=
t;Now
all is shaken When
heavily hangs the brow, When the ho=
pe of
the years is taken The
last star sunken. Now--
"Hear, you
chattering cricket, Hear,
you spawn of the sod, The strange
strong cry in the darkness Of
one man praising God,
"That out o=
f the
night and nothing With
travail of birth he came To stand on=
e hour
in the sunlight Only
to say her name.
"Falls thro=
ugh
her hair the sunshine In
showers; it touches, see, Her high br=
ight
cheeks in turning; Ah,
Elfin Company,
"The world =
is hot
and cruel, We
are weary of heart and hand. But the wor=
ld is
more full of glory Than
you can understand."
Why should we re=
ck of
hours that rend While
we two ride together? The heavens=
rent
from end to end Would be but
windy weather, The strong =
stars
shaken down in spate Would
be a shower of spring, And we shou=
ld
list the trump of fate And
hear a linnet sing.
We break the lin=
e with
stroke and luck, The
arrows run like rain, If you be s=
truck,
or I be struck, There's
one to strike again. If you befr=
iend,
or I befriend, The
strength is in us twain, And good th=
ings
end and bad things end, And
you and I remain.
Why should we re=
ck of
ill or well While
we two ride together? The fires t=
hat
over Sodom fell Would
be but sultry weather. Beyond all =
ends
to all men given Our
race is far and fell, We shall bu=
t wash
our feet in heaven, And
warm our hands in hell.
Battles unborn a=
nd
vast shall view Our
faltered standards stream, New friends=
shall
come and frenzies new. New
troubles toil and teem; New friends=
shall
pass and still renew One
truth that does not seem,
Why should we re=
ck of
scorn or praise While
we two ride together? The icy air=
of
godless days Shall
be but wintry weather. If hell were
highest, if the heaven Were
blue with devils blue, I should ha=
ve
guessed that all was even, If I
had dreamed of you.
Little I reck of=
empty
prides, Of
creeds more cold than clay; To nobler e=
nds
and longer rides, My
lady rides to-day. To swing our
swords and take our sides In
that all-ending fray When stars =
fall
down and darkness hides, When
God shall turn to bay.
Why should we re=
ck of
grin and groan While
we two ride together? The triple =
thunders
of the throne Would
be but stormy weather. For us the =
last
great fight shall roar, Upon
the ultimate plains, And we shal=
l turn
and tell once more Our
love in English lanes.
With leaves belo=
w and
leaves above, And groping=
under
tree and tree, I found the=
home
of my true love, Who is a
wandering home for me.
Who, lost in rui=
ned
worlds aloof, Bore the dr=
ead
dove wings like a roof; Who, past t=
he
last lost stars of space Carried the
fire-light on her face.
Who, passing as =
in
idle hours, Tamed the w=
ild
weeds to garden flowers; Stroked the
strange whirlwind's whirring wings, And made the
comets homely things.
Where she went b=
y upon
her way The
dark was dearer than the day; Where she p=
aused
in heaven or hell, The whole w=
orld's
tale had ended well.
With leaves belo=
w and
leaves above. And groping=
under
tree and tree, I found the=
home
of my true love, Who is a
wandering home for me.
Where she was fl=
ung,
above, beneath, By the rude=
dance
of life and death, Grow she at
Gotham--die at Rome, Between the=
pine
trees is her home.
In some strange =
town,
some silver morn, She may have
wandered to be born; Stopped at =
some
motley crowd impressed, And called =
them
kinsfolk for a jest.
If we again En
goodness thrive, And the dead
saints become alive, Then pedant=
s bald
and parchments brown May claim h=
er
blood for London town.
But leaves below=
and
leaves above. And groping=
under
tree and tree, I found the=
home
of my true love, Who is a
wandering home for me.
The great graves=
tone
she may pass by, And without
noticing, may die; The streets=
of silver
Heaven may tread, With her gr=
ey
awful eyes unfed.
The city of great
peace in pain May pass, u=
ntil
she find again This little=
house
of holm and fir God built b=
efore
the stars for her.
Here in the fall=
en
leaves is furled Her secret =
centre
of the world. We sit and =
feel
in dusk and dun The stars s=
wing
round us like a sun.
For leaves below=
and
leaves above. And groping=
under
tree and tree, I found the=
home
of my true love. Who is a wa=
ndering
home for me.
Step softly, und=
er
snow or rain, To
find the place where men can pray; The way is =
all so
very plain That we may=
lose
the way.
Oh, we have lear=
nt to
peer and pore On
tortured puzzles from our youth, We know all
labyrinthine lore, We are the =
three
wise mert of yore, And
we know all things but the truth.
We have gone rou=
nd and
round the hill, And
lost the wood among the trees, And learnt =
long
names for every ill, And served =
the
mad gods, naming still The
Furies the Eumenides.
The gods of viol=
ence
took the veil Of
vision and philosophy, The Serpent=
that
brought all men bale, He bites hi=
s own
accursed tail, And
calls himself Eternity.
Go humbly ... it=
has
hailed and snowed ... With
voices low and lanterns lit; So very sim=
ple is
the road, That
we may stray from it.
The world grows
terrible and white, And
blinding white the breaking day; We walk
bewildered in the light, For somethi=
ng is
too large for sight, And
something much too plain to say.
The Child that w=
as ere
worlds begun (...
We need but walk a little way, We need but=
see a
latch undone,...) The Child t=
hat
played with moon and sun Is
playing with a little hay.
The house from w=
hich
the heavens are fed, The
old strange house that is our own, Where trick=
s of
words are never said. And Mercy i=
s as
plain as bread, And
Honour is as hard as stone.
Go humbly; humbl=
e are
the skies, And
low and large and fierce the Star; So very nea=
r the
Manger lies That
we may travel far.
Hark! Laughter l=
ike a
lion wakes To
roar to the resounding plain, And the who=
le
heaven shouts and shakes, For
God Himself is born again, And we are =
little
children walking Through
the snow and rain.
There fared a mo=
ther
driven forth Out of an i=
nn to
roam; In
the place where she was homeless All men are=
at
home. The
crazy stable close at hand, With shaking
timber and shifting sand, Grew a stro=
nger
thing to abide and stand Than the sq=
uare
stones of Rome.
For men are home=
sick
in their homes, And strange=
rs
under the sun, And they lay
their heads in a foreign land Whenever th=
e day
is done. Here we have
battle and blazing eyes, And chance =
and
honour and high surprise, Where the y=
ule
tale was begun.
A Child in a foul
stable, Where the b=
easts
feed and foam; Only where =
He was
homeless Are you and=
I at
home; We
have hands that fashion and heads that But our hea=
rts we
lost--how long ago! In a place =
no
chart nor ship can show Under the s=
ky's
dome.
This world is wi=
ld as
an old wives' tale, And strange=
the
plain things are, The earth is
enough and the air is enough For our won=
der
and our war; But our res=
t is
as far as the fire-drake swings And our pea=
ce is
put in impossible things Where clash=
ed and
thundered unthinkable wings Round an
incredible star.
To an open house=
in
the evening Home shall =
men
come, To an
older place than Eden And a taller town than Rome. To the end =
of the
way of the wandering star, To the thin=
gs
that cannot be and that are, To the place
where God was homeless And all men=
are
at home.
When the first
Christmas presents came, the straw where Christ was rolled Smelt sweet=
er
than their frankincense, burnt brighter than their gold, And a wise =
man
said, "We will not give; the thanks would be but cold."
"Nay,"=
said
the next, "To all new gifts, to this gift or another, Bends the h=
igh
gratitude of God; even as He now, my brother, Who had a F=
ather
for all time, yet thanks Him for a Mother.
"Yet scarce=
for
Him this yellow stone or prickly-smells and sparse. Who holds t=
he
gold heart of the sun that fed these timber bars, Nor any sce=
ntless
lily lives for One that smells the stars."
Then spake the t=
hird
of the Wise Men; the wisest of the three: "We ma=
y not
with the widest lives enlarge His liberty, Whose wings=
are
wider than the world. It is not He, but we.
"We say not=
He
has more to gain, but we have more to lose. Less gold s=
hall
go astray, we say, less gold, if thus we choose, Go to make
harlots of the Greeks and hucksters of the Jews.
"Less clouds
before colossal feet redden in the under-light, To the blin=
d gods
from Babylon less incense burn to-night, To the high
beasts of Babylon, whose mouths make mock of right."
Babe of the thou=
sand
birthdays, we that are young yet grey, White with =
the
centuries, still can find no better thing to say, We that with
sects and whims and wars have wasted Christmas Day.
Light Thou Thy c=
enser
to Thyself, for all our fires are dim, Stamp Thou =
Thine
image on our coin, for Caesar's face grows dim, And a dumb =
devil
of pride and greed has taken hold of him.
We bring Thee ba=
ck
great Christendom, churches and towns and towers. And if our =
hands
are glad, O God, to cast them down like flowers, 'Tis not th=
at
they enrich Thine hands, but they are saved from ours.
Said the Lord Go=
d,
"Build a house, Build
it in the gorge of death, Found it in=
the
throats of hell. Where
the lost sea muttereth, Fires and
whirlwinds, build it well."
Laboured sternly=
flame
and wind, But a
little, and they cry, "Lord,=
we
doubt of this Thy will, We
are blind and murmur why," And the win=
ds are
murmuring still.
Said the Lord Go=
d,
"Build a house, Cleave
its treasure from the earth, With the ja=
rring
powers of hell Strive
with formless might and mirth, Tribes and
war-men, build it well."
Then the raw red=
sons
of men Brake
the soil, and lopped the wood, But a littl=
e and
they shrill, "Lord,
we cannot view Thy good," And the wil=
d men
clamour still.
Said the Lord Go=
d,
"Build a house, Smoke
and iron, spark and steam, Speak and v=
ote
and buy and sell; Let a
new world throb and stream, Seers and m=
akers,
build it well."
Strove the cunni=
ng men
and strong, But a
little and they cry, "Lord,
mayhap we are but clay, And
we cannot know the why," And the wis=
e men
doubt to-day.
Yet though worn =
and
deaf and blind, Force
and savage, king and seer Labour stil=
l,
they know not why; At
the dim foundation here, Knead and p=
lough
and think and ply.
Till at last, ma=
yhap,
hereon, Fused
of passion and accord, Love its cr=
own
and peace its stay Rise
the city of the Lord That we dar=
kly
build to-day.
A HYMN FOR THE CHURCH
MILITANT
Great God, that =
bowest
sky and star, Bow
down our towering thoughts to thee, And grant u=
s in a
faltering war The
firm feet of humility.
Lord, we that sn=
atch
the swords of flame, Lord,
we that cry about Thy car. We too are =
weak
with pride and shame, We
too are as our foemen are.
Yea, we are mad =
as
they are mad, Yea,
we are blind as they are blind, Yea, we are=
very
sick and sad Who
bring good news to all mankind.
The dreadful joy=
Thy
Son has sent Is
heavier than any care; We find, as=
Cain
his punishment, Our
pardon more than we can bear.
Lord, when we cr=
y Thee
far and near And
thunder through all lands unknown The gospel =
into
every ear, Lord,
let us not forget our own.
Cleanse us from =
ire of
creed or class, The
anger of the idle tings; Sow in our =
souls,
like living grass, The
laughter of all lowly things.
Then Bernard smi=
led at
me, that I should gaze =
But
I had gazed already; caught the view, Faced the
unfathomable ray of rays =
Which
to itself and by itself is true.
Then was my visi=
on
mightier than man's speech; =
Speech
snapt before it like a flying spell; And memory =
and
all that time can teach =
Before
that splendid outrage failed and fell.
As when one drea=
meth
and remembereth not =
Waking,
what were his pleasures or his pains, With every
feature of the dream forgot, =
The
printed passion of the dream remains:--
Even such am I; =
within
whose thoughts resides =
No
picture of that sight nor any part Nor any mem=
ory:
in whom abides =
Only
a happiness within the heart,
A secret happine=
ss
that soaks the heart =
As
hills are soaked by slow unsealing snow, Or secret a=
s that
wind without a chart =
Whereon
did the wild leaves of Sibyl go.
O light uplifted=
from
all mortal knowing, =
Send
back a little of that glimpse of thee. That of its=
glory
I may kindle glowing =
One
tiny spark for all men yet to be.
Passionate peace=
is in
the sky-- And in the =
snow
in silver sealed The beasts =
are
perfect in the field, And men see=
m men
so suddenly-- (But
take ten swords and ten times ten And
blow the bugle in praising men; For
we are for all men under the sun, And
they are against us every one; And
misers haggle and madmen clutch, And
there is peril in praising much. And
we have the terrible tongues uncurled That
praise the world to the sons of the world.)
The idle humble =
hill
and wood Are bowed u=
pon
the sacred birth, And for one
little hour the earth Is lazy wit=
h the
love of good-- (But
ready are you, and ready am I, If
the battle blow and the guns go by; For
we are for all men under the sun, And
they are against us every one; And
the men that hate herd all together, To
pride and gold, and the great white feather And
the thing is graven in star and stone That
the men who love are all alone.)
Hunger is hard a=
nd
time is tough, But bless t=
he
beggars and kiss the kings, For hope has
broken the heart of things, And nothing=
was
ever praised enough. (But
bold the shield for a sudden swing And
point the sword when you praise a thing, For
we are for all men under the sun, And
they are against us every one; And
mime and merchant, thane and thrall Hate
us because we love them all; Only
till Christmastide go by Passionate
peace is in the sky.)
A HYMN<=
span
class=3DHeading1Char>
O God of earth a=
nd
altar, Bow
down and hear our cry Our earthly
rulers falter, Our
people drift and die; The walls o=
f gold
entomb us, The
swords of scorn divide, Take not thy
thunder from us, But
take away our pride.
From all that te=
rror
teaches, From
lies of tongue and pen, From all th=
e easy
speeches That
comfort cruel men, From sale a=
nd
profanation Of
honour and the sword, From sleep =
and
from damnation, Deliver
us, good Lord!
Tie in a living =
tether
The
prince and priest and thrall, Bind all our
lives together, Smite
us and save us all; In ire and
exultation Aflame
with faith, and free, Lift up a l=
iving
nation, A
single sword to thee.
A CHRISTMAS SONG FOR THREE
GUILDS
TO BE SUNG A LON=
G TIME
AGO--OR HENCE
THE CARPENTERS
St. Joseph to the
Carpenters said on a Christmas Day: "The m=
aster
shall have patience and the prentice shall obey; And your wo=
rd
unto your women shall be nowise hard or wild: For the sak=
e of
me, your master, who have worshipped Wife and Child. But softly =
you
shall frame the fence, and softly carve the door, And softly =
plane
the table--as to spread it for the poor, And all your
thoughts be soft and white as the wood of the white tree. But if they=
tear
the Charter, Jet the tocsin speak for me! Let the woo=
den
sign above your shop be prouder to be scarred Than the
lion-shield of Lancelot that hung at Joyous Garde."
St. Crispin to t=
he
shoemakers said on a Christmastide: "Who
fashions at another's feet will get no good of pride. They were
bleeding on the Mountain, the feet that brought good news, The latchet=
of
whose shoes we were not worthy to unloose. See that yo=
ur
feet offend not, nor lightly lift your head, Tread softl=
y on
the sunlit roads the bright dust of the dead. Let your ow=
n feet
be shod with peace; be lowly all your lives. But if they=
touch
the Charter, ye shall nail it with your knives. And the
bill-blades of the commons drive in all as dense array As once a c=
rash
of arrows came, upon St. Crispin's Day."
St. Luke unto the
painters on Christmas Day he said: "See t=
hat
the robes are white you dare to dip in gold and red; For only go=
ld the
kings can give, and only blood the saints; And his hig=
h task
grows perilous that mixes them in paints. Keep you the
ancient order; follow the men that knew The labyrin=
th of
black and whits, the maze of green and blue; Paint mighty
things, paint paltry things, paint silly things or sweet. But if men =
break
the Charter, you may slay them in the street. And if you paint one po=
st for
them, then ... but you know it well, You paint a
harlot's face to drag all heroes down to hell."
Almighty God to =
all
mankind on Christmas Day said He: "I ren=
t you
from the old red hills and, rending, made you free. There was
charter, there was challenge; in a blast of breath I gave; You can be =
all
things other; you cannot be a slave. You shall be
tired and tolerant of fancies as they fade, But if men =
doubt
the Charter, ye shall call on the Crusade-- Trumpet and=
torch
and catapult, cannon and bow and blade, Because it =
was My
challenge to all the things I made."
The thatch on th=
e roof
was as golden, Though
dusty the straw was and old, The wind had a peal as of trumpets,=
Though
blowing and barren and cold, The mother'=
s hair
was a glory Though
loosened and torn, For under t=
he
eaves in the gloaming =
A
child was born.
Have a myriad ch=
ildren
been quickened. Have
a myriad children grown old, Grown gross=
and
unloved and embittered, Grown
cunning and savage and cold? God abides =
In a
terrible patience, Unangered,
unworn, And
again for the child that was squandered A child is =
born.
What know we of
æons behind us, Dim
dynasties lost long ago, Huge empire=
s,
like dreams unremembered, Huge
cities for ages laid low? This at
least--that with blight and with blessing With
flower and with thorn, Love was th=
ere,
and his cry was among them, =
"A
child is born."
Though the darkn=
ess be
noisy with systems, Dark
fancies that fret and disprove, Still the p=
lumes
stir around us, above us The
wings of the shadow of love: Oh! princes=
and
priests, have ye seen it Grow
pale through your scorn. Huge dawns =
sleep
before us, deep changes, =
A
child is born.
And the rafters =
of
toil still are gilded With
the dawn of the star of the heart, And the wis=
e men
draw near in the twilight, Who
are weary of learning and art, And the fac=
e of
the tyrant is darkened. His
spirit is torn, For a new K=
ing is
enthroned; yea, the sternest, =
A
child is born.
And the mother s=
till
joys for the whispered First
stir of unspeakable things, Still feels=
that
high moment unfurling Red
glory of Gabriel's wings. Still the b=
abe of
an hour is a master Whom
angels adorn, Emmanuel, p=
rophet,
anointed, =
A
child is born.
And thou, that a=
rt
still in thy cradle, The
sun being crown for thy brow. Make answer=
, our
flesh, make an answer, Say,
whence art thou come--who art thou? Art thou co=
me
back on earth for our teaching To
train or to warn--? Hush--how m=
ay we
know?--knowing only =
A
child is born.
There is heard a=
hymn
when the panes dim And
never before or again, When the ni=
ghts
are strong with a darkness long, And
the dark is alive with rain.
Never we know bu=
t in
sleet and in snow, The
place where the great fires are, That the mi=
dst of
the earth is a raging mirth And
the heart of the earth a star.
And at night we =
win to
the ancient inn Where
the child in the frost is furled, We follow t=
he
feet where all souls meet At
the inn at the end of the world.
The gods lie dead
where the leaves lie red, For
the flame of the sun is flown. The gods li=
e cold
where the leaves lie gold. And a
Child comes forth alone.
A WORD<=
span
class=3DHeading1Char>
A word came fort=
h in
Galilee, a word like to a star; It climbed =
and
rang and blessed and burnt wherever brave hearts are; A word of s=
udden
secret hope, of trial and increase Of wrath an=
d pity
fused in fire, and passion kissing peace. A star that=
o'er
the citied world beckoned, a sword of flame; A star with
myriad thunders tongued: a mighty word there came.
The wedge's dart
passed into it, the groan of timberwains, The ringing=
of
the rivet nails, the shrieking of the planes; The hammeri=
ng on
the roofs at morn, the busy workshop roar; The hiss of
shavings drifted deep along the windy floor; The heat-br=
owned
toiler's crooning song, the hum of human worth-- Mingled of =
all
the noise of crafts, the ringing word went forth.
The splash of ne=
ts
passed into it, the grind of sand and shell, The boat-ho=
ok's
clash, the boat-oars' jar, the cries to buy and sell, The flappin=
g of
the landed shoals, the canvas crackling free, And through=
all
varied notes and cries, the roaring of the sea, The noise of
little lives and brave, of needy lives and high; In gatherin=
g all
the throes of earth, the living word went by.
Earth's giant si=
ns
bowed down to it, in Empire's huge eclipse, When darkne=
ss sat
above the thrones, seven thunders on her lips, The woe of =
cities
entered it, the clang of idols' falls, The scream =
of
filthy Caesars stabbed high in their brazen halls, The dim hoa=
rse
Hoods of naked men, the worldrealms snapping girth, The trumpet=
s of
Apocalypse, the darkness of the earth:
The wrath that b=
rake
the eternal lamp and hid the eternal hill, A world's
destruction loading, the word went onward still-- The blaze of
creeds passed into it, the hiss of horrid fires, The headlong
spear, the scarlet cross, the hair-shirt and the briars, The cloiste=
red
brethren's thunderous chaunt, the errant champion's song, The shiftin=
g of
the crowns and thrones, the tangle of the strong.
The shattering f=
all of
crest and crown and shield and cross and cope, The tearing=
of
the gauds of time, the blight of prince and pope, The reign of
ragged millions leagued to wrench a loaded debt, Loud with t=
he
many throated roar, the word went forward yet. The song of
wheels passed into it, the roaring and the smoke The riddle =
of the
want and wage, the fogs that burn and choke. The breakin=
g of
the girths of gold, the needs that creep and swell. The strengt=
hening
hope, the dazing light, the deafening evangel, Through kin=
gdoms
dead and empires damned, through changes without cease, With earthq=
uake,
chaos, born and fed, rose,--and the word was "Peace."
V - RHYMES FOR THE TIMES<=
/span>
ANTICHRIST, OR THE REUNIO=
N OF
CHRISTENDOM: AN ODE
=
"A BILL WHICH HAS SHOCKED THE CONSCIENCE OF =
EVERY
CHRISTIAN COMMUNITY IN EUROPE."-- =
Mr.
F.E. Smith, ON THE WELSH DISESTABLISHMENT BILL.
Are they clingin=
g to
their crosses, =
F.E.
Smith, Where the B=
reton
boat-fleet tosses, =
Are
they, Smith? Do they, fa=
sting,
tramping, bleeding, =
Wait
the news from this our city? Groaning
"That's the Second Reading!" =
Hissing
"There is still Committed" If the voic=
e of
Cecil falters, =
If
McKenna's point has pith, Do they tre=
mble
for their altars? =
Do
they, Smith?
Russian peasants=
round
their pope =
Huddled,
Smith, Hear
about it all, I hope, =
Don't
they, Smith? In the moun=
tain
hamlets clothing =
Peaks
beyond Caucasian pales, Where
Establishment means nothing =
And
they never heard of Wales, Do they rea=
d it
all in Hansard =
With
a crib to read it with-- "Welsh
Tithes: Dr. Clifford Answered," =
Really,
Smith?
In the lands whe=
re
Christians were, =
F.E.
Smith, In
the little lands laid bare, =
Smith,
O Smith! Where the T=
urkish
bands are busy, =
And
the Tory name is blessed Since they =
hailed
the Cross of Dizzy =
On
the banners from the West! Men don't t=
hink
it half so hard if =
Islam
burns their kin and kith, Since a cur=
ate
lives in Cardiff =
Saved
by Smith.
It would greatly=
, I
must own, =
Soothe
me, Smith, If you left=
this
theme alone, =
Holy
Smith! For your legal ca=
use or
civil =
You
fight well and get your fee; For your Go=
d or
dream or devil =
You
will answer, not to me. Talk about =
the
pews and steeples =
And
the Cash that goes therewith! But the sou=
ls of
Christian peoples.... =
--Chuck
it, Smith!
THE REVOLUTIONIST: OR LIN=
ES
TO A STATESMAN
"I WAS NEVER
STANDING BY WHILE A REVOLUTION WAS GOING
ON."--Speech by the Rt. Hon. Walter Long.
When Death was o=
n thy
drums, Democracy, And with on=
e rush
of slaves the world was free, In that hig=
h dawn
that Kings shall not forget, A void ther=
e was
and Walter was not yet. Through sac=
ked
Versailles, at Valmy in the fray, They did wi=
thout
him in some kind of way; Red Christendom a=
ll
Walterless they cross, And in thei=
r fury
hardly feel their loss.... Fades the
Republic; faint as Roland's horn, Her trumpets
taunt us with a sacred scorn.... Then silence
fell; and Mr. Long was born.
From his first h=
ours
in his expensive cot He never sa=
w the
tiniest viscount shot. In deferenc=
e to
his wealthy parents' whim The wildest
massacres were kept from him. The wars th=
at
dyed Pall Mall and Brompton red Passed harm=
less
o'er that one unconscious head: For all that
little Long could understand The rich mi=
ght
still be rulers of the land. Vain are the
pious arts of parenthood, Foiled Revo=
lution
bubbled in his blood; Until one d=
ay
(the babe unborn shall rue it) The Constit=
ution
bored him and he slew it.
If I were wise a=
nd
good and rich and strong-- Fond, impio=
us
thought, if I were Walter Long-- If I could =
water
sell like molten gold, And make gr=
own
people do as they are told, If over pri=
vate
fields and wastes as wide As a Greek =
city
for which heroes died, I owned the
houses and the men inside-- If all this=
hung
on one thin thread of habit I would not
revolutionize a rabbit.
I would sit tigh=
t with
all my gifts and glories, And even pr=
each
to unconverted Tories, That the fi=
xed
system that our land inherits, Viewed from=
a
certain standpoint, has its merits. I'd guard t=
he
laws like any Radical, And keep ea=
ch
precedent, however small, However subtle, misty, =
dusty,
dreamy, Lest man by
chance should look at me and see me; Lest men sh=
ould
ask what madman made me lord Of English
ploughshares and the English sword; Lest men sh=
ould
mark how sleepy is the nod That drills=
the
dreadful images of God!
Walter, be wise!=
avoid
the wild and new, The Constit=
ution
is the game for you. Walter, bew=
are!
scorn not the gathering throng It suffers,=
yet
it may not suffer wrong, It suffers,=
yet
it cannot suffer Long. And if you =
goad
it these grey rules to break, For a few p=
ence,
see that you do not wake Death and t=
he
splendour of the scarlet cap, Boston and =
Valmy,
Yorktown and Jemmappes, Freedom in =
arms,
the riding and the routing, =
span> The thunder of the capt=
ains
and the shouting, All that lo=
st
riot that you did not share--And when that r=
iot
comes--you will be there.
THE SHAKESPEARE MEMORIAL<=
/span>
Lord Lilac thoug=
ht it
rather rotten That Shakes=
peare
should be quite And therefo=
re got
on a Committee With several
chaps out of the city. And Shorter=
and
Sir Herbert Tree, Lord Rothsc=
hild
and Lord Rosebery And F.C.G. =
and
Comyns Carr, Two dukes a=
nd a
dramatic star, Also a cler=
gyman
now dead; And while t=
he
vain world careless sped Unheeding t=
he
heroic name-- The souls m=
ost
fed with Shakespeare's flame Still sat
unconquered in a ring, Remembering=
him
like anything.
Lord Lilac did n=
ot
long remain. Lord Lilac =
did
not come again. He softly l=
it a
cigarette And sought =
some
other social set Where, in s=
ome
other knots or rings, People were=
doing
cultured things, --Miss Zwil=
t's
Humane Vivarium --The littl=
e men
that paint on gum --The exqui=
site
Gorilla Girl.... He sometime=
s, in
this giddy whirl (Not being =
really
bad at heart), Remembered
Shakespeare with a start-- But not wit=
h that
grand constancy Of Clement
Shorter, Herbert Tree, Lord Rosebe=
ry and
Comyns Carr And all the=
other
names there are; Who stuck l=
ike
limpets to the spot, Lest they f=
orgot,
lest they forgot.
Lord Lilac was of
slighter stuff; Lord Lilac =
had
had quite enough.
THE HORRIBLE HISTORY OF J=
ONES
Jones had a dog;=
it
had a chain; Not often w=
orn,
not causing pain; But, as the
I.K.L. had passed Their
"Unleashed Cousins Act" at last, Inspectors =
took
the chain away; Whereat the
canine barked "hurray"! At which, of
course, the S.P.U. (Whose Nerv=
ous
Motorists' Bill was through), Were forced=
to
give the dog in charge For being A=
udibly
at Large. None, you w=
ill
say, were now annoyed, Save haply
Jones--the yard was void. But somethi=
ng
being in the lease About
"alarms to aid police," The U.S.U.
annexed the yard For having =
no
sufficient guards Now if ther=
e's
one condition The C.C.P. =
are
strong upon It is that =
every
house one buys Must have a=
yard
for exercise; So Jones, a=
s tenant,
was unfit. His state of
health was proof of it. Two doctors=
of
the T.T.U.'s Told him hi=
s legs
from long disuse, Were atroph=
ied;
and saying "So From step to
higher step we go Till everyt=
hing
is New and True," They cut hi=
s legs
off and withdrew. You know the
E.T.S.T.'s views Are stronge=
r than
the T.T.U.'s: And soon (a=
s one
may say) took wing The Arms, t=
hough
not the Man, I sing. To see him
sitting limbless there Was more th=
an the
K.K. could bear "In me=
rcy
silence with all speed That mouth =
there
are no hands to feed; What cruel
sentimentalist, O Jones, wo=
uld
doom thee to exist-- Clinging to
selfish Selfhood yet? Weak one! S=
uch
reasoning might upset The Pump Ac=
t, and
the accumulation Of all
constructive legislation; Let us cons=
truct
you up a bit--" The head fe=
ll off
when it was hit: Then words =
did
rise and honest doubt, And four
Commissions sat about Whether the=
slash
that left him dead Cut off his=
body
or his head.
An author in the=
Isle
of Wight Observed wi=
th
unconcealed delight A land of o=
ld and
just renown Where Freed=
om
slowly broadened down From Preced=
ent to
Precedent.... And this, I
think, was what he meant.
John Grubby, who=
was
short and stout And trouble=
d with
religious doubt, Refused abo=
ut the
age of three To sit upon=
the
curate's knee; (For so the
eternal strife must rage Between the
spirit of the age And Dogma, =
which,
as is well known. Does simply=
hate
to be outgrown). Grubby, the=
young
idea that shoots, Outgrew the=
ages
like old boots; While still=
, to
all appearance, small, Would have =
no
Miracles at all; And just be=
fore
the age of ten Firmly refu=
sed
Free Will to men. The altars
reeled, the hen-ens shook, Just as he =
read
of in the book; Flung from =
his
house went forth the youth Alone with
tempests and the Truth, Up to the d=
istant
city and dim Where his p=
apa
had bought for him A partnersh=
ip in
Chepe and Deer Worth, say,
twelve hundred pounds a year. But he was
resolute. Lord Brute Had found h=
im
useful; and Lord Loot, With whom f=
ew
other men would act, Valued his
promptitude and tact; Never did e=
ven
philanthropy Enrich a ma=
n more
rapidly: Twas he that
stopped the Strike in Coal, For hungry
children racked his soul; To end their
misery there and then He filled t=
he
mines with Chinamen-- Sat in that=
House
that broke the Kings, And voted f=
or all
sores of things-- And rose fr=
om
Under-Sec. to Sec. Some grumbl=
ed.
Growlers who gave less Than genero=
us
worship to success, The little
printers in Dundee Who got ten=
years
for blasphemy, (Although h=
e let
them off with seven) Respect him
rather less than heaven. No matter. =
This
can still be said: Never to
supernatural dread, Never to un=
seen
deity, Did
Sir John Grubby bend the knee; Never did d=
ream
of hell or wrath Turn Viscou=
nt
Grubby from his path; Nor was he =
bribed
by fabled bliss To kneel to=
any
world but this. The curate =
lives
in Camden Town, His lap sti=
ll
empty of renown, And still a=
cross
the waste of years John Grubby=
, in
the House of Peers, Faces that
curate, proud and free, And never s=
its
upon his knee.
NICE, JANUARY 30,
1914.
If any in an isl=
and
cradle curled Of comfort,=
may
make offerings to you, Who in the =
day of
all denial blew A bugle thr=
ough
the blackness of the world,
An English hand =
would
touch your shroud, in trust That truth =
again
be told in English speech. And we too =
yet
may practise what we preach, Though it w=
ere
practising the bayonet thrust.
Cutting that gia=
nt
neck from sand to sand, From sea to=
sea;
it was a little thing Beside your
sudden shout and sabre-swing That cut the
throat of thieves in every land.
Heed not if half=
-wits
mock your broken blade: Mammon our =
master
doeth all things ill. You are the=
Fool
that charged a windmill. Still, The Miller =
is a
Knave; and was afraid.
Lay down your sw=
ord.
Ruin will know her own. Let each sm=
all
statesman sow his weak wild oat, Or turn his=
coat
to decorate his coat, Or take the
throne and perish by the throne.
Lay down your sw=
ord.
And let the White Flag fade To grey; an=
d let
the Red Flag fade to pink, For these t=
hat
climb and climb; and cannot sink So deep as =
death
and honour, Déroulède.
SONNET WITH THE COMPLIMEN=
TS
OF THE SEASON
TO A POPULAR LEA=
DER
MUCH TO BE CONGRATULATED ON THE AVOI=
DANCE
OF A STRIKE AT CHRISTMAS.
I know you. You =
will hail
the huge release, Saying the
sheathing of a thousand swords, In silence =
and
injustice, well accords With Christ=
mas
bells. And you will gild with grease The papers,=
the
employers, the police, And vomit u=
p the
void your windy words To your New
Christ; who bears no whip of cords For them th=
at
traffic in the doves of peace.
The feast of fri=
ends,
the candle-fruited tree, I have not =
failed
to honour. And I say It would be
better for such men as we, And we be n=
earer
Bethlehem, it we lay Shot dead on
scarlet snows for liberty, Dead in the
daylight upon Christmas Day.
=
"A DROVE OF CATTLE CAME INTO A VILLAGE CALLED =
SWORDS,
AND WAS STOPPED BY THE RIOTERS."---Daily Paper.
In the place cal=
led
Swords on the Irish road It is told =
for a
new renown How we fiel=
d the
horns of the cattle, and how We will hol=
d the
horns of the devil now Ere the lor=
d of
bell, with the horn on his brow, =
Is
crowned in Dublin town
Light in the Eas=
t and
light in the West, And light o=
n the
cruel lords, On the soul=
s that
suddenly all men knew, And the gre=
en
flag flew and the red flag flew, And many a =
wheel
of the world stopped, too, When =
the
cattle were stopped at Swords.
Be they sinners =
or
less than saints That smite =
in the
street for rage, We know whe=
re the
shame shines bright; we know You that th=
ey
smite at, you their foe, Lords of the
lawless wage and low. =
This
is your lawful wage.
You pinched a ch=
ild to
a torture price That you da=
red
not name in words; So black a =
jest
was the silver bit That your o=
wn
speech shook for the shame of And the cow=
ard
was plain as a cow they hit =
When
the cattle have strayed at Swords.
The wheel of the
torment of wives went round To break me=
n's
brotherhood; You gave th=
e good
Irish blood to grease The clubs o=
f your
country's enemies; You saw the=
brave
man beat to the knees: =
And
you saw that it was good.
The rope of the =
rich
is long and long-- The longest=
of
hangmen's cords; But the kin=
gs and
crowds are holding their bream, In a giant =
shadow
o'er all beneath Where God s=
tands
holding the scales of Death =
Between
the cattle and Swords.
Haply the lords =
that
hire and lend, The lowest =
of all
men's lords, Who sell th=
eir
kind like kine at a fair. Will find n=
o head
of their cattle there; But faces o=
f men
where cattle were: =
Faces
of men--and Swords.
And the name shi=
ning
and terrible, The sternes=
t of
all man's words, Still mark =
that
place to seek or shun, In the stre=
ets
where the struggling cattle run-- Grass and a=
silence
of judgment done =
In
the place that is called Swords.
The line breaks =
and
the guns go under, The
lords and the lackeys ride the plain; I draw deep
breaths of the dawn and thunder, And
the whole of my heart grows young again. For our Chi=
efs
said "Done," and I did not deem it; Our
Seers said "Peace," and it was not peace; Earth will =
grow
worse till men redeem it, And
wars more evil, ere all wars cease. But the old=
flags
reel and the old drums rattle. As
once in my life they throbbed and reeled; I have foun=
d ray
youth in the lost battle, I
have found my heart on the battlefield. =
For
we that fight till the world is free, =
We
are not easy in victory: =
We
have known each other too long, my brother, =
And
fought each other, the world and we.
And I dream of t=
he
days when work was scrappy, And
rare in our pockets the mark of the mint, When we were
angry and poor and happy, And
proud of seeing our names in print. For so they
conquered and so we scattered, When
the Devil rode and his dogs smelt gold, And the pea=
ce of
a harmless folk was shattered; When
I was twenty and odd years old. When the mongrel men that the
market classes Had
slimy hands upon England's rod, And sword i=
n hand
upon Afric's passes Her
last Republic cried to God. =
For
the men no lords can buy or sell, =
They
sit not easy when all goes well. =
They
have said to each other what naught can smother, =
They
have seen each other, our souls and hell.
It is all as of =
old;
the empty clangour. The
Nothing scrawled on a five-foot page, The huckste=
r who,
mocking holy anger, Painfully
paints his face with rage. And the fai=
th of
the poor is faint and partial, And
the pride of the rich is all for sale, And the cho=
sen
heralds of England's Marshal Are
the sandwich-men of the "Daily Mail." And the nig=
gards
that dare not give are glutted, And
the feeble that dare not fail are strong, So while th=
e City
of Toil is gutted, I sit
in the saddle and sing my song. =
For
we that fight till the world is free, =
We
have no comfort in victory; =
We
have read each other as Cain his brother, =
We
know each other, these slaves and we.
SONNET<=
span
class=3DHeading1Char>
=
ON HEARING A LANDLORD ACCUSED (FALSELY, FOR =
ALL
THE BARD CAN SAY) OF NEGLECTING ONE OF THE =
NUMEROUS
WHITE HORSES THAT WERE OR WERE NOT =
CONNECTED
WITH ALFRED THE GREAT
If you have pick=
ed
your lawn of leaves and snails, If you have=
told
your valet, even with oaths, Once a week=
or
so, to brush your clothes. If you have dared to clean your tee=
th, or
nails, While the H=
orse
upon the holy mountain fails-- Then God th=
at
Alfred to his earth betrothes Send on you
screaming all that honour loathes, Horsewhippi=
ng,
Hounsditch, debts, and Daily Mails.
Can you not even
conserve? For if indeed The White H=
orse
fades; then closer creeps the fight When we sha=
ll
scour the face of England white, Plucking su=
ch men
as you up like a weed, And fling t=
hem
far beyond a shaft shot right When Wessex went =
to
battle for the creed.
AFRICA<=
span
class=3DHeading1Char>
A sleepy people,
without priests or kings, Dreamed her=
e, men
say, to drive us to the sea: O let us dr=
ive
ourselves! For it is free And smells =
of
honour and of English things. How came we brawling by these bitter
springs, We of
the North?--two kindly nations--we? Though the =
dice
rattles and the clear coin rings, Here
is no place for living men to be. Leave them =
the
gold that worked and whined for it, Let them that hav=
e no
nation anywhere =
Be
native here, and fat and full of bread; But we, who=
se
sins were human, we will quit The
land of blood, and leave these vultures there, =
Noiselessly
happy, feeding on the dead.
We never saw you=
, like
our sires, For
whom your face was Freedom's face, Nor know wh=
at
office-tapes and wires With
such strong cords may interlace; We know not=
if
the statesmen then Were
fashioned as the sort we see, We know tha=
t not
under your ken Did
England laugh at Liberty.
Yea, this one th=
ing is
known of you, We
know that not till you were dumb, Not till yo=
ur
course was thundered through, Did
Mammon see his kingdom come. The songs of
theft, the swords of hire, The
clerks that raved, the troops that ran The empire =
of the
world's desire, The
dance of all the dirt began.
The happy jewell=
ed
alien men Worked
then but as a little leaven; From some m=
ore
modest palace then The
Soul of Dives stank to Heaven. But when th=
ey
planned with lisp and leer Their
careful war upon the weak, They smote =
your
body on its bier, For
surety that you could not speak.
A hero in the de=
sert
died; Men
cried that saints should bury him. And round t=
he
grave should guard and ride, A
chivalry of Cherubim. God said:
"There is a better place, A
nobler trophy and more tall; The beasts =
that
fled before his face Shall
come to make his funeral.
"The mighty
vermin of the void That
hid them from his bended bow, Shall crawl=
from
caverns overjoyed, Jackal
and snake and carrion crow. And perched=
above
the vulture's eggs, Reversed
upon its hideous head, A blue-face=
d ape
shall wave its legs To
tell the world that he is dead."
This is their tr=
umpet
ripe and rounded, They have b=
urnt
the wheat and gathered the chaff, And we that=
have
fought them, we that have watched them, Have we at =
least
not cause to laugh?
Never so low at =
least
we stumbled-- Dead we hav=
e been
but not so dead As these th=
at
live on the life they squandered, As these th=
at
drink of the blood they shed.
We never boasted=
the
thing we blundered, We never Ha=
unted
the thing that fails, We never qu=
ailed
from the living laughter, To howl to =
the
dead who tell no tales,
'Twas another fi=
nger
at least that pointed Our wasted =
men or
our emptied bags, It was not =
we
that sounded the trumpet In front of=
the
triumph of wrecks and rags.
Fear not these, =
they
have made their bargain, They have c=
ounted
the cost of the last of raids, They have staked their lives on the
things that live not, They have b=
urnt
their house for a fire that fades.
Five years ago a=
nd we
might have feared them, Been drubbe=
d by
the coward and taught by the dunce; Truth may e=
ndure
and be told and re-echoed, But a lie c=
an
never be young but once.
Five years ago a=
nd we
might have feared them; Now, when t=
hey
lift the laurelled brow, There shall
naught go up from our hosts assembled But a laugh=
like
thunder. We know them now.
WRITTEN DURING A
FRIDAY AND SATURDAY IN AUGUST 1911.
King Dives he was
waiting in his garden all alone, Where his f=
lowers
are made of iron and his trees are made of stone, And his hiv=
es are
full of thunder and the lightning leaps and kills, For the mil=
ls of
God grind slowly; and he works with other mills. Dives found=
a
mighty silence; and he missed the throb and leap, The noise o=
f all
the sleepless creatures singing him to sleep. And he said:
"A screw has fallen--or a bolt has slipped aside-- Some little=
thing
has shifted": and the little things replied:
"Call upon =
the
wheels, master, call upon the wheels; We are taki=
ng
rest, master, finding how it feels, Strict the =
law of
thine and mine: theft we ever shun-- All the whe=
els
are thine, master--tell the wheels to run! Yea, the Wh=
eels
are mighty gods--set them going then! We are only=
men,
master, have you heard of men?
"O, they li=
ve on
earth like fishes, and a gasp is all their breath. God for emp=
ty
honours only gave them death and scorn of death, And you wal=
k the
worms for carpet and you tread a stone that squeals-- Only, God t=
hat
made them worms did not make them wheels. Man shall s=
hut
his heart against you and you shall not find the spring. Man who wil=
ls the
thing he wants not, the intolerable thing-- Once he lik=
es his
empty belly better than your empty head Earth and h=
eaven
are dumb before him: he is stronger than the dead.
"Call upon =
the
wheels, master, call upon the wheels, Steel is be=
neath
your hand, stone beneath your heels, Steel will =
never
laugh aloud, hearing what we heard, Stone will =
never
break its heart, mad with hope deferred-- Men of tact that arbitr=
ate,
slow reform that heals-- Save the st=
inking
grease, master, save it for the wheels.
"King Dives=
in
the garden, we have naught to give or hold-- (Even while=
the
baby came alive the rotten sticks were sold.) The savage knows a cavern and the
peasants keep a plot, Of all the =
things
that men have had--lo! we have them not. Not a scrap=
of
earth where ants could lay their eggs-- Only this p=
oor
lump of earth that walks about on legs-- Only this p=
oor
wandering mansion, only these two walking trees. Only hands =
and
hearts and stomachs--what have you to do with these? You have en=
gines
big and burnished, tall beyond our fathers' ken, Why should =
you
make peace and traffic with such feeble folk as men?
"Call upon =
the
wheels, master, call upon the wheels, They are de=
af to
demagogues, deaf to crude appeals; Are our han=
ds our
own, master?--how the doctors doubt! Are our leg=
s our
own, master? wheels can run without-- Prove the points are delicate--they=
will
understand. All the whe=
els
are loyal; see how still they stand!"
King Dives he was
walking in his garden in the sun, He shook hi=
s hand
at heaven, and he called the wheels to run, And the eye=
s of
him were hateful eyes, the lips of him were curled, And he call=
ed
upon his father that is lord below the world, Sitting in =
the
Gate of Treason, in the gate of broken seals, "Bend =
and
bind them, bend and bind them, bend and bind them into wheels, Then once m=
ore in
all my garden there may swing and sound and sweep-- The noise o=
f all
the sleepless things that sing the soul to sleep."
Call upon the wh=
eels,
master, call upon the wheels. Weary grow =
the
holidays when you miss the meals, Through the=
Gate
of Treason, through the gate within, Cometh fear=
and
greed of fame, cometh deadly sin; If a man gr=
ow
faint, master, take him ere he kneels. Take him, b=
reak
him, rend him, end him, roll him, crush him with the wheels.
Smile at us, pay=
us,
pass us; but do not quite forget. For we are =
the
people of England, that never has spoken yet. There is ma=
ny a
fat farmer that drinks less cheerfully, There is ma=
ny a
free French peasant who is richer and sadder than we. There are n=
o folk
in the whole world so helpless or so wise. There is hu=
nger
in our bellies, there is laughter in our eyes; You laugh a=
t us
and love us, both mugs and eyes are wet: Only you do=
not know
us. For we have not spoken yet.
The fine French =
kings
came over in a flutter of flags and dames. We liked th=
eir
smiles and battles, but we never could say their names. The blood r=
an red
to Bosworth and the High French lords went down; There was naught =
but a
naked people under a naked crown.
And the eyes of =
the
King's Servants turned terribly every way, And the gol=
d of
the King's Servants rose higher every day. They burnt =
the
homes of the shaven men, that had been quaint and kind, Till there =
was no
bed in a monk's house, nor food that man could find. The inns of=
God
where no man paid, that were the wall of the weak, The King's
Servants ate them all. And Still we did not speak.
And the face of =
the King's
Servants grew greater than the King: He tricked =
them,
and they trapped him, and stood round him in a ring. The new gra=
ve
lords closed round him, that had eaten the abbey's fruits. And the men=
of
the new religion, with their bibles in their boots. We saw their
shoulders moving, to menace or discuss, And some we=
re
pure and some were vile; but none took heed of us. We saw the =
King
as they killed him, and his face was proud and pale; And a few m=
en
talked of freedom, while England talked of ale.
A war that we
understood not came over the world and woke Americans,
Frenchmen, Irish; but we knew not the things they spoke. They talked=
about
rights and nature and peace and the people's reign: And the squ=
ires,
our masters, bade us fight; and never scorned us again. Weak if we =
be for
ever, could none condemn us then; Men called =
us
serfs and drudges; men knew that we were men. In foam and=
flame
at Trafalgar, on Albuera plains, We did and =
died
like lions, to keep ourselves in chains, We lay in l=
iving
ruins; firing and fearing not The strange
fierce face of the Frenchmen who knew for what they fought, And the man=
who
seemed to be more than man we strained against and broke; And we brok=
e our
own rights with him. And still we never spoke.
Our patch of glo=
ry
ended; we never heard guns again. But the squ=
ire
seemed struck in the saddle; he was foolish, as if in pain He leaned o=
n a
staggering lawyer, he clutched a cringing Jew, He was stri=
cken;
it may be, after all, he was stricken at Waterloo. Or perhaps =
the
shades of the shaven men, whose spoil is in his house, Come back in
shining shapes at last to spoil his last carouse: We only kno=
w the
last sad squires ride slowly towards the sea. And a new p=
eople
takes the land: and still it is not we.
They have given =
us
into the hand of the new unhappy lords, Lords witho=
ut
anger and honour, who dare not carry their swords. They fight =
by
shuffling papers; they have bright dead alien eyes; They look a=
t our
labour and laughter as a tired man looks at flies. And the loa=
d 01
their loveless pity is worse than the ancient wrongs, Their doors=
are
shut in the evening; and they know no songs.
We hear men spea=
king
for us of new laws strong and sweet, Yet is ther=
e no
man speaketh as we speak in the street. It may be we
shall rise the last as Frenchmen rose the first, Our wrath c=
ome
after Russia's wrath and our wrath be the worst. It may be w=
e are
meant to mark with our riot and our rest God's scorn=
for
all men governing. It may be beer is best. But we are =
the
people of England; and we have not spoken yet. Smile at us=
, pay
us, pass us. But do not quite forget.
VI - MISCELLANEOUS POEMS<=
/span>
LOST
So you have gain=
ed the
golden crowns, so you have piled together The
laurels and the jewels, the pearls out of the blue, But I will =
beat
the bounding drum and I will fly the feather For
all the glory I have lost, the good I never knew.
I saw the light =
of
morning pale on princely human faces, In
tales irrevocably gone, in final night enfurled, I saw the t=
ail of
flying fights, a glimpse of burning blisses, And laughed
to think what I had lost--the wealth of all the world.
Yea, ruined in a=
royal
game I was before my cradle; Was
ever gambler hurling gold who lost such things as I? The purple =
moth
that died an hour ere I was born of That
great green sunset God shall make three days after I die.
When all the lig=
hts
are lost and done, when all the skies are broken, Above
the ruin of the stars my soul shall sit in state, With a brai=
n made
rich, with the irrevocable sunsets, And a closed heart
happy in the fullness of a fate.
So you have gain=
ed the
golden crowns and grasped the golden weather, The
kingdoms and the hemispheres that all men buy and sell, But I will =
lash
the leaping drum and swing the flaring feather, For
the light of seven heavens that are lost to me like hell.
O well for him t=
hat
loves the sun That sees t=
he
heaven-race ridden or run, The splashi=
ng
seas of sunset won, And
shouts for victory.
God made the sun=
to
crown his head, And when de=
ath's
dart at last is sped, At least it=
will
not find him dead, And
pass the carrion by.
O ill for him th=
at
loves the sun; Shall the s=
un
stoop for anyone? Shall the s=
un
weep for hearts undone Or
heavy souls that pray?
Not less for us =
and
everyone Was that wh=
ite
web of splendour spun; O well for =
him
who loves the sun Although
the sun should slay.
Happy, who like
Ulysses or that lord Who
raped the fleece, returning full and sage, With usage =
and
the world's wide reason stored, With
his own kin can wait the end of age. When shall =
I see,
when shall I see, God knows! My
little village smoke; or pass the door, The old dea=
r door
of that unhappy house That
is to me a kingdom and much more? Mightier to=
me
the house my fathers made Than
your audacious heads, O Halls of Rome! More than
immortal marbles undecayed, The
thin sad slates that cover up my home; More than y=
our
Tiber is my Loire to me, Than
Palatine my little Lyré there; And more th=
an all
the winds of all the sea The
quiet kindness of the Angevin air.
=
"The Rev. Isaiah Bunter has disappeared into the interior =
of
the Solomon Islands, and it is feared that he may have =
been
devoured by the natives, as there has been a considerable =
revival
of religious customs among the Polynesians." =
A
real paragraph from a real Paper; only the names altered.
It was Isaiah Bu=
nter Who
sailed to the world's end, And spread
religion in a way That
he did not intend.
He gave, if not =
the
gospel-feast, At
least a ritual meal; And in a hi=
ghly
painful sense He
was devoured with zeal.
And who are we (=
as
Henson says) That
we should close the door? And should =
not
Evangelicals All
jump at shedding Gore?
And many a man w=
ill
melt in man, Becoming
one, not two, When smacks
across the startled earth The
Kiss of Kikuyu.
When Man is the =
Turk,
and the Atheist, Essene, Era=
stian
Whig, And
the Thug and the Druse and the Catholic, And the crew of the Cap=
tain's
gig.
The old earth ke=
epeth
her watch the same. Alone
in a voiceless void doth stand, Her orange
flowers in her bosom flame, Her
gold ring in her hand. The surfs o=
f the
long gold-crested morns Break
ever more at her great robe's hem, And evermor=
e come
the bleak moon-horns. But
she keepeth not watch for them.
=
She keepeth her watch through the awns, =
But
the heart of her groweth not old, =
For
the peal of the bridegroom's paeans, =
And
the tale she once was told.
The nations shoc=
k and
the cities reel, The
empires travail and rive and rend, And she loo=
ks on
havoc and smoke and steel, And
knoweth it is not the end. The faiths =
may
choke and the powers despair, The
powers re-arise and the faiths renew, She is only=
a
maiden, waiting there, For
the love whose word is true.
=
She keepeth her watch through the aeons, =
But
the heart of her groweth not old, =
For
the peal of the bridegroom's paeans, =
And
the tale she once was told.
Through the
cornfield's gleam and the cottage shade, They
wait unwearied, the young and old, <=
/span> Mother for child =
and
man for maid. For a
love that once was told. The hair gr=
ows
grey under thatch or slates, The
eyes grow dim behind lattice panes, The earth-r=
ace
wait as the old earth waits, And
the hope in the heart remains.
=
She keepeth her watch through the aeons, =
But
the heart of her groweth not old, =
For
the peal of the bridegroom's paeans, =
And
the tale she once was told.
God's gold ring =
on her
hand is bound, She fires with bl=
ossom
the grey hill-sides, Her fields =
are
quickened, her forests crowned, While
the love of her heart abides, And we from=
the
fears that fret and mar Look
up in hours and behold awhile Her face,
colossal, mid star on star, Still
looking forth with a smile.
=
She keepeth her watch through the sons, =
But
the heart of her groweth not old, =
For
the peal of the bridegroom's paeans, =
And
the tale she once was told.
ON RIGHTEOUS INDIGNATION<=
/span>
When Adam went f=
rom
Paradise He
saw the Sword and ran; The dreadful
shape, the new device, The pointed=
end
of Paradise, And saw what
Peril is and Price, And
knew he was a man.
When Adam went f=
rom
Paradise, He
turned him back and cried For a little
flower from Paradise; There came =
no
flower from Paradise; The woods w=
ere
dark in Paradise, And
not a bird replied.
For only comfort=
or
contempt, For jest
or great reward, Over the wa=
lls of
Paradise, The flamele=
ss
gates of Paradise, The dumb sh=
ut
doors of Paradise, God
flung the flaming sword.
It burns the han=
d that
holds it More
than the skull it scores; It doubles =
like a
snake and stings, Yet he in w=
hose
hand it swings He is the m=
ost
masterful of things, A
scorner of the stars.
WHEN I CAME BACK TO FLEET
STREET
When I came back=
to
Fleet Street, Through
a sunset nook at night, And saw the=
old
Green Dragon With
the windows all alight, And hailed =
the
old Green Dragon And
the Cock I used to know, Where all g=
ood
fellows were my friends A
little while ago;
I had been long =
in
meadows, And
the trees took hold of me, And the sti=
ll
towns in the beech-woods, Where
men were meant to be. But old thi=
ngs
held; the laughter, The
long unnatural night, And all the=
truth
they talk in hell, And
all the lies they write.
For I came back =
to
Fleet Street, And
not in peace I came; A cloven pr=
ide
was in my heart, And
half my love was shame. I came to f=
ight
in fairy-tale, Whose
end shall no man know-- To fight th=
e old
Green Dragon Until the Cock shall crow!
Under the broad =
bright
windows Of
men I serve no more, The groanin=
g of
the old great wheels Thickened
to a throttled roar; All buried =
things
broke upward; And
peered from its retreat, Ugly and si=
lent,
like an elf, The
secret of the street.
They did not bre=
ak the
padlocks, Or
clear the wall away. The men in =
debt
that drank of old Still
drink in debt to-day; Chained to =
the
rich by ruin, Cheerful
in chains, as then When old un=
broken
Pickwick walked Among
the broken men.
Still he that dr=
eams
and rambles Through
his own elfin air, Knows that =
the
street's a prison, Knows
that the gates are there: Still he th=
at
scorns or struggles Sees,
frightful and afar. All that th=
ey
leave of rebels Rot
high on Temple Bar.
All that I loved=
and
hated, All
that I shunned and knew, Clears in b=
road
battle lightning, Where
they, and I, and you, Run high the
barricade that breaks The
barriers of the street, And shout t=
o them
that shrink within, The
Prisoners of the Fleet.
To J.S.M.
=
EXTRACT FROM A ROMANCE WHICH IS NOT YET =
WRITTEN
AND PROBABLY NEVER WILL BE.
The wine they dr=
ink in
Paradise They make in
Haute Lorraine; God brought=
it
burning from the sod To be a sig=
n and
signal rod That they t=
hat
drink the blood of God Shall never
thirst again.
The wine they pr=
aise
in Paradise They make in
Ponterey, The purple =
wine
of Paradise, But we have
better at the price; It's wine t=
hey
praise in Paradise, It's cider =
that
they pray.
The wine they wa=
nt in
Paradise They find in
Plodder's End, The apple w=
ine of
Hereford, Of Hafod Hi=
ll and
Hereford, Where woods=
went
down to Hereford, And there I=
had a
friend.
The soft feet of=
the
blessed go In the soft
western vales, The road the
silent saints accord, The road fr=
om
Heaven to Hereford, Where the a=
pple
wood of Hereford Goes all th=
e way
to Wales.
The wind blew ou=
t from
Bergen from the dawning to the day, There was a=
wreck
of trees and fall of towers a score of miles away, And drifted=
like
a livid leaf I go before its tide, Spewed out =
of
house and stable, beggared of flag and bride. The heavens=
are
bowed about my head, shouting like seraph wars. With rains =
that
might put out the sun and clean the sky of stars, Rains like =
the
fall of ruined seas from secret worlds above, The roaring=
of
the rains of God none but the lonely love. Feast in my=
hall,
O foemen, and eat and drink and drain, You never l=
oved
the sun in heaven as I have loved the rain.
The chance of ba=
ttle
changes--so may all battle be; I stole my =
lady
bride from them, they stole her back from me. I rent her =
from
her red-roofed hall, I rode and saw arise More lovely=
than
the living flowers the hatred in her eyes. She never l=
oved
me, never bent, never was less divine; The sunset =
never
loved me; the wind was never mine. Was it all
nothing that she stood imperial in duresse? Silence its=
elf
made softer with the sweeping of her dress. O you who d=
rain
the cup of life, O you who wear the crown, You never l=
oved a
woman's smile as I have loved her frown.
The wind blew ou=
t from
Bergen from the dawning to the day, They ride a=
nd run
with fifty spears to break and bar my way, I shall not=
die
alone, alone, but kin to all the powers. As merry as=
the
ancient sun and fighting like the flowers. How white t=
heir
steel, how bright their eyes! I love each laughing knave. Cry high an=
d bid
him welcome to the banquet of the brave. Yea, I will=
bless
them as they bend and love them where they lie, When on the=
ir
skulls the sword I swing falls shattering from the sky. The hour wh=
en
death is like a light and blood is like a rose,-- You never l=
oved
your friends, my friends, as I shall love my foes.
Know you what ea=
rth
shall lose to-night, what rich, uncounted loans, What heavy =
gold
of tales untold you bury with my bones? My loves in=
deep
dim meadows, my ships that rode at ease, Ruffling the
purple plumage of strange and secret seas. To see this=
fair
earth as it is to me alone was given, The blow th=
at
breaks my brow to-night shall break the dome of heaven. The skies I=
saw,
the trees I saw after no eyes shall see. To-night I =
die
the death of God; the stars shall die with me: One sound s=
hall
sunder all the spears and break the trumpet's breath: You never l=
aughed
in all your life as I shall laugh in death.
Heaven shall for=
give
you Bridge at dawn, The clothes=
you
wear--or do not wear-- And Ladies'
Leap-frog on the lawn And dyes and
drugs, and petits verres. Your vicious
things shall melt in air ... ... But for=
the
Virtuous Things you do, The Righteo=
us
Work, the Public Care, It shall no=
t be
forgiven you.
Because you coul=
d not
even yawn When your
Committees would prepare To have the=
teeth
of paupers drawn, Or strip the
slums of Human Hair; Because a D=
octor
Otto Maehr Spoke of &q=
uot;a
segregated few"-- And you sat
smiling in your chair-- It shall no=
t be
forgiven you.
Though your sins=
cried
to---Father Vaughan, These despe=
rate
you could not spare Who steal, =
with
nothing left to pawn; You caged a=
man
up like a bear For ever in=
a
jailor's care Because his=
sins
were more than two ... ... I know a
house in Hoxton where It shall no=
t be
forgiven you.
Princess, you tr=
apped
a guileless Mayor To meet some
people that you knew ... When the La=
st
Trumpet rends the air It shall no=
t be
forgiven you.
A BALLADE OF AN ANTI-PURI=
TAN
They spoke of Pr=
ogress
spiring round, Of Light an=
d Mrs.
Humphry Ward-- It is not t=
rue to
say I frowned, Or ran abou=
t the
room and roared; I might have
simply sat and snored-- I rose poli=
tely
in the club And said, &=
quot;I
feel a little bored; Will someon=
e take
me to a pub?"
The new world's =
wisest
did surround Me; and it =
pains
me to record I did not t=
hink
their views profound, Or their
conclusions well assured; The simple =
life I
can't afford, Besides, I =
do not
like the grub-- I wait a ma=
sh and
sausage, "scored"-- Will someon=
e take
me to a pub?
I know where Men=
can
still be found, Anger and
clamorous accord, And virtues
growing from the ground, And fellows=
hip of
beer and board, And song, t=
hat is
a sturdy cord. And hope, t=
hat is
a hardy shrub, And goodnes=
s,
that is God's last word-- Will someon=
e take
me to a pub?
Prince, Bayard w=
ould
have smashed his sword To see the =
sort
of knights you dub--Is that the la=
st of
them--O Lord! Will someon=
e take
me to a pub?
A BALLADE OF A BOOK-REVIE=
WER
I have not read a
rotten page Of
"Sex-Hate" or "The Social Test," And here co=
mes
"Husks" and "Heritage".... O Moses, gi=
ve us
all a rest! "Ethic=
s of
Empire"!... I protest I will not =
even
cut the strings, I'll read
"Jack Redskin on the Quest" And feed my=
brain
with better things.
Somebody wants a=
Wiser
Age (=
He
also wants me to invest); Somebody li=
kes
the Finnish Stage Because the
Jesters do not jest; And grey wi=
th
dust is Dante's crest, The bell of
Rabelais soundless swings; And the win=
ds
come out of the west And feed my=
brain
with better things.
Lord of our laug=
hter
and our rage. Look on us =
with
our sins oppressed! I, too, have
trodden mine heritage, Wickedly we=
arying
of the best. Burn from my
brain and from my breast Sloth, and =
the
cowardice that clings, And stiffne=
ss and
the soul's arrest: And feed my=
brain
with better things.
Prince, you are =
host
and I am guest, Therefore I
shrink from cavillings.... But I shoul=
d have
that fizz suppressed And feed my=
brain
with better things.
The gallows in my
garden, people say, Is new and =
neat
and adequately tall. I tie the noose o=
n in a
knowing way As one that=
knots
his necktie for a ball; But just as=
all
the neighbours--on the wall-- Are drawing=
a
long breath to shout "Hurray!" The strange=
st
whim has seized me.... After all I think I w=
ill
not hang myself to-day.
To-morrow is the=
time
I get my pay--My uncle's swo=
rd is
hanging in the hall-- I see a lit=
tle
cloud all pink and grey-- Perhaps the
rector's mother will not call-- I fancy tha=
t I
heard from Mr. Gall That mushrooms could be cooked anot=
her
way-- I
never read the works of Juvenal-- I think I w=
ill
not hang myself to-day.
The world will h=
ave
another washing day; The decaden=
ts
decay; the pedants pall; And H.G. We=
lls
has found that children play. And Bernard=
Shaw
discovered that they squall; Rationalist=
s are
growing rational-- And through=
thick
woods one finds a stream astray, So secret t=
hat
the very sky seems small-- I think I w=
ill
not hang myself to-day.
Prince, I can he=
ar the
trumpet of Germinal, The tumbrils
toiling up the terrible way; Even to-day=
your
royal head may fall-- I think I w=
ill
not hang myself to-day.
A BALLADE OF THE FIRST RA=
IN
The sky is blue =
with
summer and the sun, The woods a=
re
brown as autumn with the tan, It might as=
well
be Tropics and be done, I might as =
well
be born a copper Khan; I fashion m=
e an
oriental fan Made of the
wholly unreceipted bills Brought by =
the
ice-man, sleeping in his van (A storm is
coming on the Chiltern Hills).
I read the Young
Philosophers for fun --Fresh as =
our
sorrow for the late Queen Anne-- The Dionysi=
ans
whom a pint would stun, The Panthei=
sts
who never heard of Pan. --But throu=
gh my
hair electric needles ran, And on my b=
ook a
gout of water spills, And on the =
skirts
of heaven the guns began (A storm is
coming on the Chiltern Hills).
O fields of Engl=
and,
cracked and dry and dun, O soul of
England, sick of words, and wan!-- The clouds =
grow
dark;--the down-rush has begun. --It comes,=
it
comes, as holy darkness can, Black as wi=
th
banners, ban and arriere-ban; A falling
laughter all the valley fills, Deep as God=
's
thunder and the thirst of man: (A storm is
coming on the Chiltern Hills).
Prince,
Prince-Elective on the modern plan Fulfilling =
such a
lot of People's Wills, You take the
Chiltern Hundreds while you can-- A storm is =
coming
on the Chiltern Hills.