Collected Poems Volume II Part 11

ON THE DOWNS

Wide-eyed our childhood roamed the world Knee-deep in blowing gra.s.s, And watched the white clouds crisply curled Above the mountain-pa.s.s, And lay among the purple thyme And from its fragrance caught Strange hints from some elusive clime Beyond the bounds of thought.

Glimpses of fair forgotten things Beyond the gates of birth, Half-caught from far off ancient springs In heaven, and half of earth; And coloured like a fairy-tale And whispering evermore Half memories from the half-fenced pale Of lives we lived before.

Here, weary of the roaring town A-while may I return And while the west wind roams the down Lie still, lie still and learn: Here are green leagues of murmuring wheat With blue skies overhead, And, all around, the winds are sweet With May-bloom, white and red.

And, to and fro, the bee still hums His low unchanging song, And the same rustling whisper comes As through the ages long: Through all the thousands of the years That same sweet rumour flows, With dreaming skies and gleaming tears And kisses and the rose.

Once more the children throng the lanes, Themselves like flowers, to weave Their garlands and their daisy-chains And listen and believe The tale of _Once-upon-a-time_, And hear the _Long-ago_ And _Happy-ever-after_ chime Because it must be so.

And by those thousands of the years It is, though scarce we see, Dazed with the rainbows of our tears, Their steadfast unity, It is, or life's disjointed schemes, These stones, these ferns unfurled With such deep care--a madman's dreams Were wisdom to this world!

Dust into dust! Lie still and learn, Hear how the ages sing The solemn joy of our return To that which makes the Spring: Even as we came, with childhood's trust, Wide-eyed we go, to Thee Who holdest In Thy sacred dust The heavenly Springs to be.

A MAY-DAY CAROL

What is the loveliest light that Spring Rosily parting her robe of grey Girdled with leaflet green, can fling Over the fields where her white feet stray?

What is the merriest promise of May Flung o'er the dew-drenched April flowers?

Tell me, you on the pear-tree spray-- _Carol of birds between the showers_.

What can life at its lightest bring Better than this on its brightest day?

How should we fetter the white-throat's wing Wild with joy of its woodland way?

Sweet, should love for an hour delay, Swift, while the primrose-time is ours!

What is the lover's royallest lay?-- _Carol of birds between the showers_.

What is the murmur of bees a-swing?

What is the laugh of a child at play?

What is the song that the angels sing?

(Where were the tune could the sweet notes stay Longer than this, to kiss and betray?) Nay, on the blue sky's topmost towers, What is the song of the seraphim? Say-- _Carol of birds between the showers._

Thread the stars on a silver string, (So did they sing in Bethlehem's bowers!) Mirth for a little one, grief for a king, _Carol of birds between the showers_.

THE CALL OF THE SPRING

Come, choose your road and away, my lad, Come, choose your road and away!

We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown As it dips to the dazzling day.

It's a long white road for the weary; But it rolls through the heart of the May.

Though many a road would merrily ring To the tramp of your marching feet, All roads are one from the day that's done, And the miles are swift and sweet, And the graves of your friends are the mile-stones To the land where all roads meet.

But the call that you hear this day, my lad, Is the Spring's old bugle of mirth When the year's green fire in a soul's desire Is brought like a rose to the birth; And knights ride out to adventure As the flowers break out of the earth.

Over the sweet-smelling mountain-pa.s.ses The clouds lie brightly curled; The wild-flowers cling to the crags and swing With cataract-dews impearled; And the way, the way that you choose this day Is the way to the end of the world.

It rolls from the golden long ago To the land that we ne'er shall find; And it's uphill here, but it's downhill there, For the road is wise and kind, And all rough places and cheerless faces Will soon be left behind.

Come, choose your road and away, away, We'll follow the gipsy sun, For it's soon, too soon to the end of the day, And the day is well begun; And the road rolls on through the heart of the May, And there's never a May but one.

There's a fir-wood here, and a dog-rose there, And a note of the mating dove; And a glimpse, maybe, of the warm blue sea, And the warm white clouds above; And warm to your breast in a tenderer nest Your sweetheart's little glove.

There's not much better to win, my lad, There's not much better to win!

You have lived, you have loved, you have fought, you have proved The worth of folly and sin; So now come out of the City's rout, Come out of the dust and the din.

Come out,--a bundle and stick is all You'll need to carry along, If your heart can carry a kindly word, And your lips can carry a song; You may leave the lave to the keep o' the grave, If your lips can carry a song!

_Come, choose your road and away, my lad, Come, choose your road and away!

We'll out of the town by the road's bright crown, As it dips to the sapphire day!

All roads may meet at the world's end, But, hey for the heart of the May!

Come, choose your road and away, dear lad, Come choose your road and away._

A DEVONSHIRE DITTY

I

In a leafy lane of Devon There's a cottage that I know, Then a garden--then, a grey old crumbling wall, And the wall's the wall of heaven (Where I hardly care to go) And there isn't any fiery sword at all.

II

But I never went to heaven.

There was right good reason why, For they sent a shining angel to me there, An angel, down in Devon, (Clad in muslin by the bye) With the halo of the sunshine on her hair.

III

Ah, whate'er the darkness covers, And whate'er we sing or say, Would you climb the wall of heaven an hour too soon If you knew a place for lovers Where the apple-blossoms stray Out of heaven to sway and whisper to the moon?

IV

When we die--we'll think of Devon Where the garden's all aglow With the flowers that stray across the grey old wall: Then we'll climb it, out of heaven, From the other side, you know, Straggle over it from heaven With the apple-blossom snow, Tumble back again to Devon Laugh and love as long ago, Where there isn't any fiery sword at all.