A Cluster of Grapes Part 11

GIOVANNI MALATESTA AT RIMINI

Giovanni Malatesta, the lame old man, Walking one night, as he was used, being old, Upon the grey seash.o.r.e at Rimini, And thinking dimly of those two whom love Led to one death, and his less happy soul For which Cain waited, heard a seagull scream, Twice, like Francesca; for he struck but twice.

At that, rage thrust down pity; for it seemed As if those windy bodies with the sea's Unfriended heart within them for a voice Had turned to mock him, and he called them friends, And he had found a wild peace hearing them Cry senseless cries, halloing to the wind.

He turned his back upon the sea; he saw The ragged teeth of the sharp Apennines Shut on the sea; his shadow in the moon Ploughed up a furrow with an iron staff In the hard sand, and thrust a long lean chin Outward and downward, and thrust out a foot, And leaned to follow after. As he saw His crooked knee go forward under him And after it the long straight iron staff, "The staff," he thought, "is Paolo: like that staff And like that knee we walked between the sun, And her unmerciful eyes"; and the old man, Thinking of G.o.d, and how G.o.d ruled the world, And gave to one man beauty for a snare And a warped body to another man, Not less than he in soul, not less than he In hunger and capacity for joy, Forgot Francesca's evil and his wrong, His anger, his revenge, that memory, Wondering at man's forgiveness of the old Divine injustice, wondering at himself: Giovanni Malatesta judging G.o.d.

LA MELINITE: MOULIN ROUGE

Olivier Metra's Waltz of Roses Sheds in a rhythmic shower The very petals of the flower; And all is roses, The rouge of petals in a shower.

Down the long hall the dance returning Rounds the full circle, rounds The perfect rose of lights and sounds, The rose returning Into the circle of its rounds.

Alone, apart, one dancer watches Her mirrored, morbid grace; Before the mirror, face to face, Alone she watches Her morbid, vague, ambiguous grace.

Before the mirror's dance of shadows She dances in a dream, And she and they together seem A dance of shadows, Alike the shadows of a dream.

The orange-rosy lamps are trembling Between the robes that turn; In ruddy flowers of flame that burn The lights are trembling: The shadows and the dancers turn.

And, enigmatically smiling, In the mysterious night, She dances for her own delight, A shadow smiling Back to a shadow in the night.

EVELYN UNDERHILL

IMMANENCE

I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Not borne on morning wings Of majesty, but I have set My Feet Amidst the delicate and bladed wheat That springs triumphant in the furrowed sod.

There do I dwell, in weakness and in power; Not broken or divided, saith our G.o.d!

In your strait garden plot I come to flower: About your porch My Vine Meek, fruitful, doth entwine; Waits, at the threshold, Love's appointed hour.

I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: Yea! on the glancing wings Of eager birds, the softly pattering feet Of furred and gentle beasts, I come to meet Your hard and wayward heart. In brown bright eyes That peep from out the brake, I stand confest.

On every nest Where feathery Patience is content to brood And leaves her pleasure for the high emprise Of motherhood-- There doth my G.o.dhead rest.

I come in the little things, Saith the Lord: My starry wings I do forsake, Love's highway of humility to take; Meekly I fit my stature to your need.

In beggar's part About your gates I shall not cease to plead-- As man, to speak with man-- Till by such art I shall achieve My Immemorial Plan, Pa.s.s the low lintel of the human heart.

INTROVERSION

What do you seek within, O Soul, my Brother?

What do you seek within?

I seek a life that shall never die, Some haven to win From mortality.

What do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?

What do you find within?

I find great quiet where no noises come.

Without, the world's din: Silence in my home.

Whom do you find within, O Soul, my Brother?

Whom do you find within?

I find a friend that in secret came: His scarred hands within He shields a faint flame.

What would you do within, O Soul, my Brother?

What would you do within?

Bar door and window that none may see: That alone we may be (Alone! face to face, In that flame-lit place!) When first we begin To speak one with another.

ICHTHUS

Threatening the sky, Foreign and wild the sea, Yet all the fleet of fishers are afloat; They lie Sails furled Each frail and tossing boat, And cast their little nets into an unknown world.

The countless, darting splendours that they miss, The rare and vital magic of the main, The which for all their care They never shall ensnare-- All this Perchance in dreams they know; Yet are content And count the night well spent If so The indrawn net contain The matter of their daily nourishment.

The unseizable sea, The circ.u.mambient grace of Deity, Where live and move Unnumbered presences of power and love, Slips through our finest net: We draw it up all wet, A-shimmer with the dew-drops of that deep.

And yet For all their toil the fishers may not keep The instant living freshness of the wave; Its pa.s.sing benediction cannot give The mystic meat they crave That they may live.

But on some stormy night We, venturing far from home, And casting our poor trammel to the tide, Perhaps shall feel it come Back to the vessel's side, So easy and so light A child might lift, Yet hiding in its mesh the one desired gift; That living food Which man for ever seeks to s.n.a.t.c.h from out the flood.

MRS MARGARET L. WOODS

SONGS

I've heard, I've heard The long low note of a bird, The nightingale fluting her heart's one word.

I know, I know Pink carnations heaped with snow.

Summer and winter alike they blow.

I've lain, I've lain Under roses' delicate rain, That fall and whisper and fall again.

Come woe, come white Shroud o' the world, black night!

I have had love and the sun's light.

THE CHANGELING

When did the Changeling enter in?

How did the Devil set him a gin Where the little soul lay like a rabbit Faint and still for a fiend to grab it?

I know not.