Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 162

869. The Second Crucifixion

LOUD mockers in the roaring street Say Christ is crucified again: Twice pierced His gospel-bearing feet, Twice broken His great heart in vain.

I hear, and to myself I smile, For Christ talks with me all the while.

No angel now to roll the stone From off His unawaking sleep, In vain shall Mary watch alone, In vain the soldiers vigil keep.

Yet while they deem my Lord is dead My eyes are on His shining head.

Ah! never more shall Mary hear That voice exceeding sweet and low Within the garden calling clear: Her Lord is gone, and she must go.

Yet all the while my Lord I meet In every London lane and street.

Poor Lazarus shall wait in vain, And Bartimaeus still go blind; The healing hem shall ne'er again Be touch'd by suffering humankind.

Yet all the while I see them rest, The poor and outcast, on His breast.

No more unto the stubborn heart With gentle knocking shall He plead, No more the mystic pity start, For Christ twice dead is dead indeed.

So in the street I hear men say, Yet Christ is with me all the day.

Laurence Binyon. b. 1869

870. Invocation to Youth

COME then, as ever, like the wind at morning!

Joyous, O Youth, in the aged world renew Freshness to feel the eternities around it, Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew.

The strong sun shines above thee: That strength, that radiance bring!

If Winter come to Winter, When shall men hope for Spring?

Laurence Binyon. b. 1869

871. O World, be n.o.bler

O WORLD, be n.o.bler, for her sake!

If she but knew thee what thou art, What wrongs are borne, what deeds are done In thee, beneath thy daily sun, Know'st thou not that her tender heart For pain and very shame would break?

O World, be n.o.bler, for her sake!

George William Russell ('A. E.'). b. 1853

872. By the Margin of the Great Deep

WHEN the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies, All its vaporous sapphire, violet glow and silver gleam, With their magic flood me through the gateway of the eyes; I am one with the twilight's dream.

When the trees and skies and fields are one in dusky mood, Every heart of man is rapt within the mother's breast: Full of peace and sleep and dreams in the vasty quietude, I am one with their hearts at rest.

From our immemorial joys of hearth and home and love Stray'd away along the margin of the unknown tide, All its reach of soundless calm can thrill me far above Word or touch from the lips beside.

Aye, and deep and deep and deeper let me drink and draw From the olden fountain more than light or peace or dream, Such primaeval being as o'erfills the heart with awe, Growing one with its silent stream.

George William Russell ('A. E.'). b. 1853

873. The Great Breath

ITS edges foam'd with amethyst and rose, Withers once more the old blue flower of day: There where the ether like a diamond glows, Its petals fade away.

A shadowy tumult stirs the dusky air; Sparkle the delicate dews, the distant snows; The great deep thrills--for through it everywhere The breath of Beauty blows.

I saw how all the trembling ages past, Moulded to her by deep and deeper breath, Near'd to the hour when Beauty breathes her last And knows herself in death.

T. Sturge Moore. b. 1870

874. A Duet

'FLOWERS nodding gaily, scent in air, Flowers posied, flowers for the hair, Sleepy flowers, flowers bold to stare----'

'O pick me some!'

'Sh.e.l.ls with lip, or tooth, or bleeding gum, Tell-tale sh.e.l.ls, and sh.e.l.ls that whisper Come, Sh.e.l.ls that stammer, blush, and yet are dumb----'

'O let me hear.'

'Eyes so black they draw one trembling near, Brown eyes, caverns flooded with a tear, Cloudless eyes, blue eyes so windy clear----'

'O look at me!'

'Kisses sadly blown across the sea, Darkling kisses, kisses fair and free, Bob-a-cherry kisses 'neath a tree----'

'O give me one!'

Thus sand a king and queen in Babylon.

Francis Thompson. 1859-1907

875. The Poppy

SUMMER set lip to earth's bosom bare, And left the flush'd print in a poppy there; Like a yawn of fire from the gra.s.s it came, And the fanning wind puff'd it to flapping flame.

With burnt mouth red like a lion's it drank The blood of the sun as he slaughter'd sank, And dipp'd its cup in the purpurate shine When the eastern conduits ran with wine.

Till it grew lethargied with fierce bliss, And hot as a swinked gipsy is, And drowsed in sleepy savageries, With mouth wide a-pout for a sultry kiss.

A child and man paced side by side, Treading the skirts of eventide; But between the clasp of his hand and hers Lay, felt not, twenty wither'd years.

She turn'd, with the rout of her dusk South hair, And saw the sleeping gipsy there; And s.n.a.t.c.h'd and snapp'd it in swift child's whim, With--'Keep it, long as you live!'--to him.