Collected Poems Volume II Part 22

If, of the mud he clears away, Tom bears the ign.o.ble stain to-day, Come back, and he will not forget The heavens that yearn beyond us yet.

_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._

V

Yet, if for this you will not come, Your friends, the children, call you home, Fairies, they wear no May-day crowns, Your playmates in those grim black towns Look, fairies, how they peak and pine, How hungrily their great eyes shine!

From fevered alley and foetid lane Plead the thin arms--_Come back again!_

_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._

VI

We have named the stars and weighed the moon, Counted our gains and ... lost the boon, If _this_ be the end of all our lore-- To draw the blind and close the door!

O, lift the latch, slip in between The things which we have heard and seen, Slip thro' the fringes of the blind Into the souls of all mankind.

_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._

VII

Fairies, come back! Our wisdom dies Beneath your deeper, starrier skies!

We have reined the lightning, probed the flower: Bless, as of old, our twilight hour!

Bring dreams, and let the dreams be true, Bring hope that makes each heart anew, Bring love that knits all hearts in one; Then--sing of heaven and bring the sun!

_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._

CREATION

In the beginning, there was nought But heaven, one Majesty of Light, Beyond all speech, beyond all thought, Beyond all depth, beyond all height, Consummate heaven, the first and last, Enfolding in its perfect prime No future rushing to the past, But one rapt Now, that knew not s.p.a.ce or Time.

Formless it was, being gold on gold, And void--but with that complete Life Where music could no wings unfold Till lo, G.o.d smote the strings of strife!

"Myself unto Myself am Throne, Myself unto Myself am Thrall I that am All am all alone,"

He said, "Yea, I have nothing, having all."

And, gathering round His mount of bliss The angel-squadrons of His will, He said, "One battle yet there is To win, one vision to fulfil!

Since heaven where'er I gaze expands, And power that knows no strife or cry, Weakness shall bind and pierce My hands And make a world for Me wherein to die.

"All might, all vastness and all glory Being Mine, I must descend and make Out of My heart a song, a story Of little hearts that burn and break; Out of My pa.s.sion without end I will make little azure seas, And into small sad fields descend And make green gra.s.s, white daisies, rustling trees."

Then shrank His angels, knowing He thrust His arms out East and West and gave For every little dream of dust Part of His life as to a grave!

"_Enough, O Father, for Thy words Have pierced Thy hands!_" But, low and sweet, He said "Sunsets and streams and birds, And drifting clouds!"--The purple stained His feet.--

"Enough!" His angels moaned in fear, "_Father, Thy words have pierced Thy side!_"

He whispered, "Roses shall grow there, And there must be a hawthorn-tide, And ferns, dewy at dawn," and still They moaned--"_Enough, the red drops bleed!_"

"And," sweet and low, "on every hill,"

He said, "I will have flocks and lambs to lead."

His angels bowed their heads beneath Their wings till that great pang was gone: "_Pour not Thy soul out unto Death!_"

They moaned, and still His Love flowed on, "There shall be small white wings to stray From bliss to bliss, from bloom to bloom, And blue flowers in the wheat;" and--"_Stay!

Speak not_," they cried, "_the word that seals Thy tomb!_"

He spake--"I have thought of a little child That I will have there to embark On small adventures in the wild, And front slight perils in the dark; And I will hide from him and lure His laughing eyes with suns and moons, And rainbows that shall not endure; And--when he is weary, sing him drowsy tunes."

His angels fell before Him weeping "_Enough! Tempt not the Gates of h.e.l.l!_"

He said, "His soul is in his keeping That we may love each other well, And lest the dark too much affright him, I will strow countless little stars Across his childish skies to light him That he may wage in peace his mimic wars;

"And oft forget Me as he plays With swords and childish merchandize, Or with his elfin balance weighs, Or with his foot-rule metes, the skies; Or builds his castles by the deep, Or tunnels through the rocks, and then-- Turn to Me as he falls asleep, And, in his dreams, feel for My hand again.

"And when he is older he shall be My friend and walk here at My side; Or--when he wills--grow young with Me, And, to that happy world where once we died Descending through the calm blue weather, Buy life once more with our immortal breath, And wander through the little fields together, And taste of Love and Death."

THE PEACEMAKER.

Silently over his vast imperial seas, Over his sentinel fleets the Shadow swept And all his armies slept.

There was but one quick challenge at the gate, Then--the cold menace of that out-stretched hand, Waving aside the panoplies of State, Brought the last faithful watchers to their knees, And lightning flashed the grief from land to land.

Mourn, Britain, mourn, not for a king alone!

This was the people's king! His purple throne Was in their hearts. They shared it. Millions of swords Could not have shaken it! Sharers of this doom, This democratic doom which all men know, His Common-weal, in this great common woe, Veiling its head in the universal gloom, With that majestic grief which knows not words, Bows o'er a world-wide tomb.

Mourn, Europe, for our England set this Crown In splendour past the reach of temporal power, Secure above the thunders of the hour, A sun in the great skies of her renown, A sun to hold her wheeling worlds in one By its own course of duty pre-ordained, Where'er the meteors flash and fall, a sun With its great course of duty!

So he reigned, And died in its observance. Mightier he Than any despot, in his people's love, He served that law which rules the Thrones above, That world-wide law which by the raging sea Abased the flatterers of Canute and makes The King that abnegates all lesser power A rock in time of trouble, and a tower Of strength where'er the tidal tempest breaks; That world-wide law whose name is harmony, Whose service perfect freedom!

And _his_ name _The Peacemaker_, through all the future years Shall burn, a glorious and prophetic flame, A beaconing sun that never shall go down, A sun to speed the world's diviner morrow, A sun that shines the brighter for our sorrow; For, O, what splendour in a monarch's crown Vies with the splendour of his people's tears?

And now, O now, while the sorrowful trumpet is blown, From island to continent, zone to imperial zone, And the flags of the nations are lowered in grief with our own; Now, while the roll of the drums that for battle were dumb When he reigned, salute his pa.s.sing; and low on the breeze From the snow-bound North to the Australasian seas Surges the solemn lament--O, shall it not come, A glimpse of that mightier union of all mankind?

Now, though our eyes, as they gaze on the vision, grow blind, Now, while the world is all one funeral knell, And the mournful cannon thunder his great farewell, Now, while the bells of a thousand cities toll, Remember, O England, remember the ageless goal, Rally the slumbering faith in the depths of thy soul, Lift up thine eyes to the Kingdom for which he fought, That Empire of Peace and Good-will, for which to his death-hour he wrought.

Then, then while the pomp of the world seems a little thing, Ay, though by the world it be said, _The King is dead!_ We shall lift up our hearts and answer--_Long live the King!_

THE SAILOR-KING

The fleet, the fleet puts out to sea In a thunder of blinding foam to-night, With a bursting wreck-strewn reef to lee, But--a seaman fired yon beacon-light!

Seamen hailing a seaman, know-- Free-men crowning a free-man, sing-- The worth of that light where the great ships go, The signal-fire of the king.

Cloud and wind may shift and veer: This is steady and this is sure, A signal over our hope and fear, A pledge of the strength that shall endure-- Having no part in our storm-tossed strife-- A sign of union, which shall bring Knowledge to men of their close-knit life, The signal-fire of the king.