A Lonely Flute Part 1

A Lonely Flute.

by Odell Shepard.

PROEM

Beyond the pearly portal, Beyond the last dim star, Pale, perfect, and immortal, The eternal visions are, That never any rapture Of sorrow or of mirth Of any song shall capture To dwell with men on earth.

Many a strange and tragic Old sorrow still is mute And melodies of magic Still slumber in the flute, Many a mighty vision Has caught my yearning eye And swept with calm derision In robes of splendor by.

The rushing susurration Of some eternal wing Beats mighty variation Through all the song I sing; The vague, deep-mouthed commotion From its ancestral home Booms like the shout of ocean Across the crumbling foam; And these low lyric whispers Make answer wistfully As sea-sh.e.l.ls ... dreaming lispers Beside the eternal sea.

LAUS MARIae

There is a name like some deep melody Hallowed by sundown, delicate as the plash Of lonely waves on solitary lakes And rounded as the sudden-bursting bloom Of bold, deep-throated notes in a midnight cloud When shadowy belfries far away roll out Across the dark their avalanche of sound.

It is a wild voice lost in the wail of the wind; The silvery-twinkling plectrum of the rain Plays in the poplar tree no other tune And pines intone it softly as a prayer In leafy litanies.

The name is raised Even to G.o.d's ear from ancient arches dim With caverned twilight and dull altar smoke Where tapers weave athwart the azure haze Innumerable pageantries of dusk.

Low-voiced and soft-eyed women must they live Who bear that holy name. And now for one Time has no other honor than to be The meaning of an unremembered rhyme, The breath of a forgotten singer's song.

(_October_, 1903)

RECOLLECTION

I must forget awhile the mellow flutes And all the lyric wizardry of strings; The fragile clarinet, Tremulous over meadows rich with dawn, Must knock against my vagrant heart And throb and cry no more.

For I am shaken by the loveliness And lights and laughter and beguiling song Of all this siren world; The regal beauty of women, round on round, The swift, lithe slenderness of girls, And children's loyal eyes,

Hill rivers and the lilac fringe of seas Lazily plunging, glow of city nights And faces in the glow-- These things have stolen my heart away, I lie Parcelled abroad in sound and hue, Dispersed through all I love.

I must go far away to a still place And draw the shadows down across my eyes And wait and listen there For wings vibrating from beyond the stars, Wide-ranging, swiftly winnowing wings Bearing me back mine own.

So soon, now, I shall lie deep hidden away From sound or sight, with hearing strangely dull And heavy-lidded eyes,-- 'T is time, O pa.s.sionate soul, for me to go Some far, hill-folded road apart And learn the ways of peace.

NIGHTFALL

In a crumbling glory sets The unhastening sun; The fishers draw their shining nets; The day is done.

Across the ruddy wine That brims the sea Black boats drag sh.o.r.eward through the brine Dreamily,

And dark against the glow Firing the west, By three and two the great gulls go Seaward to rest.

Beneath the gradual host Of heaven, pale And glimmering, rides a dim sea-ghost, A large slow sail.

Slowly she cometh on Day's last faint breath, Drifting across the water, wan And gray as death.

From what far-lying land Swimmeth thy keel, Dim ship? And what mysterious hand Is at thy wheel?

What far-borne news for me?

What vast release?

Quiet is in my heart, and on the sea Peace.

(_Balboa, California_)

A BALLAD OF LOVE AND DEATH

She winded on the castle horn, She clamored long and bold, For she was way-spent and forlorn And she was sore a-cold.

And she stood lonely in the snow.

Vague quiet filled the air....

From heaven's roof looked down aloof The stars, with steady stare.

She heard the droning drift of snow And the wolf-wind on the hill....

No other sound.... For leagues around The night was very still.

She cried aloud in sudden fright, "Open! Warder ho!

Here is a pilgrim guest to-night Who can no farther go."

The steady beat of mailed feet In angry answer rang Along the floor. The castle door Gave in with iron clang

And the warder strode into his tower And saw her standing there Weary, like a storm-tossed flower, And, like an angel, fair.

"Here is no lodging for the night, No bread and wine for thee, No ingle bright, no warm firelight, No cheerful company.

"Here is no inn nor any kin Of thine to harbor guest, Nor thee to house will any rouse Out of his ancient rest."

Unearthly, dark, nocturnal things With faint and furtive stir Hovered on feather-m.u.f.fled wings Round the fair face of her

As she made answer wearily: "Ah! open now the gate.

Though I was fleet with willing feet, I have come very late.

"Yea, though I came through flood and flame, Through tempest, flood, and fire, And left the wind to trail behind The wings of my desire,

"And though I prayed the stars for aid And seas for wind and tide, And though G.o.d gave me goodly pave And ran, Himself, beside...

"Aye, though my feet have been thus fleet, Unto one heart, I know, Whose sleep is still beneath the hill, My coming has been slow."