A Cluster of Grapes Part 10

Uplong in the owl-light, the owl-light, the owl-light-- Uplong in the owl-light Theer come my maid wi' me.

A LITANY TO PAN

By the abortions of the teeming Spring, By Summer's starved and withered offering, By Autumn's stricken hope and Winter's sting, Oh, hear!

By the ichneumon on the writhing worm, By the swift, far-flung poison of the germ, By soft and foul brought out of hard and firm, Oh, hear!

By the fierce battle under every blade, By the etiolation of the shade, By drouth and thirst and things undone half made, Oh, hear!

By all the horrors of re-quickened dust, By the eternal waste of baffled l.u.s.t, By mildews and by cankers and by rust, Oh, hear!

By the fierce scythe of Spring upon the wold, By the dead eaning mother in the fold, By stillborn, stricken young and tortured old, Oh, hear!

By fading eyes pecked from a dying head, By the hot mouthful of a thing not dead, By all thy bleeding, struggling, shrieking red, Oh, hear!

By madness caged and madness running free, Through this our conscious race that heeds not thee, In its concept insane of Liberty, Oh, hear!

By all the agonies of all the past, By earth's cold dust and ashes at the last, By her return to the unconscious vast, Oh, hear!

SWINBURNE

Children and lovers and the cloud-robed sea Shall mourn him first; and then the mother land Weeping in silence by his empty hand And fallen sword that flashed for Liberty.

Song-bringer of a glad new minstrelsy, He came and found joy sleeping and swift fanned Old pagan fires, then s.n.a.t.c.hed an altar brand And wrote, "The fearless only shall be free!"

Oh, by the flame that made thine heart a home, By the wild surges of thy silver song, Seer before the sunrise, may there come Spirits of dawn to light this aching wrong Called Earth! Thou saw'st them in the foreglow roam; But we still wait and watch, still thirst and long.

DORA SIGERSON SHORTER

THE WATCHER IN THE WOOD

Deep in the wood's recesses cool I see the fairy dancers glide, In cloth of gold, in gown of green, My lord and lady side by side.

But who has hung from leaf to leaf, From flower to flower, a silken twine-- A cloud of grey that holds the dew In globes of clear enchanted wine.

Or stretches far from branch to branch, From thorn to thorn, in diamond rain, Who caught the cup of crystal pine And hung so fair the shining chain?

'Tis Death, the spider, in his net Who lures the dancers as they glide In cloth of gold, in gown of green, My lord and lady side by side.

THE NAMELESS ONE

Last night a hand pushed on the door And tirled at the pin.

I turned my face unto the wall, And could not cry, "Come in!"

I dared not cry "Come in!"

Last night a voice wailed round the house And called my name upon, And bitter, bitter did it mourn: "Where is my mother gone?

Where is my mother gone?"

From saintly arms I slipped and flew Adown the moon-lit skies, I weary of the paths of Heav'n And flowers of Paradise-- Sweet scents of Paradise!

"For little children prattle there, And whisper all the day Of lovely mothers on the earth, Where once they used to play, Who used with them to play.

"They linger laughing by the door, And wait the threshold on; I have no memory so fair, Where is my mother gone?

Where is my mother gone?"

Thrice pushed the hand upon the door And tirled at the pin.

I turned my face unto the wall, And could not cry, "Come in!"

I dared not cry, "Come in!"

WHEN I SHALL RISE

When I shall rise, and full of many fears, Set forth upon my last long journey lone, And leave behind the circling earth to go Amongst the countless stars to seek G.o.d's throne.

When in the vapourish blue, I wander, lost, Let some fair paradise reward my eyes-- Hill after hill, and green and sunny vale, As I have known beneath the Irish skies.

So on the far horizon I shall see No alien land but this I hold so dear-- Killiney's silver sands, and Wicklow hills, Dawn on my frightened eyes as I draw near.

And if it be no evil prayer to breathe, Oh, let no stranger saint or seraphim Wait there to lead up to the judgment seat, My timid soul with weeping eyes and dim.

But let them come, those dear and lovely ghosts, In all their human guise and l.u.s.tihood, To stand upon that sh.o.r.e and call me home, Waving their joyful hands as once they stood-- As once they stood!

ARTHUR SYMONS

TANAGRA

To Cavalieri dancing

Tell me, Tanagra, who made Out of clay so sweet a thing?

Are you the immortal shade Of a man's imagining?

In your incarnation meet All things fair and all things fleet.

Arrow from Diana's bow, Atalanta's feet of fire, Some one made you long ago, Made you out of his desire.

Waken from the sleep of clay And rise and dance the world away.