Georgian Poetry 1911-1912 Part 10

She slipped my clutch: and I stood there And cursed that devil-littered hare, That left me stranded in the dark In that wide waste of quaggy peat Beneath black night without a spark: When, looking up, I saw a flare Upon a far-off hill, and said: 'By G.o.d, the heather is afire!

It's mischief at this time of year ...'

And then, as one bright flame shot higher, And booths and vans stood out quite clear, My wits came back into my head; And I remembered Brough Hill Fair.

And as I stumbled towards the glare I knew the sudden kindling meant The Fair was over for the day; And all the cattle-folk away; And gipsy folk and tinkers now Were lighting supper-fires without Each caravan and booth and tent.

And as I climbed the stiff hill-brow I quite forgot my lucky hare.

I'd something else to think about: For well I knew there's broken meat For empty bellies after fair-time; And looked to have a royal rare time With something rich and prime to eat; And then to lie and toast my feet All night beside the biggest fire.

But, even as I neared the first, A pleasant whiff of stewing burst From out a smoking pot a-bubble: And as I stopped behind the folk Who sprawled around, and watched it seething, A woman heard my eager breathing, And, turning, caught my hungry eye: And called out to me: 'Draw in nigher, Unless you find it too much trouble; Or you've a nose for better fare, And go to supper with the Squire ...

You've got the hungry parson's air!'

And all looked up, and took the joke, As I dropped gladly to the ground Among them, where they all lay gazing Upon the bubbling and the blazing.

My eyes were dazzled by the fire At first; and then I glanced around; And in those swarthy, fire-lit faces-- Though drowsing in the glare and heat And snuffing the warm savour in, Dead-certain of their fill of meat-- I felt the bit between the teeth, The flying heels, the broken traces, And heard the highroad ring beneath The trampling hoofs; and knew them kin.

Then for the first time, standing there Behind the woman who had hailed me, I saw a girl with eyes astare That looked in terror o'er my head; And, all at once, my courage failed me ...

For now again, and sore-adread, My hands were hot upon a hare, That struggled, strangling in the snare ...

Then once more as the girl stood clear, Before me--quaking cold with fear-- I saw the hare look from her eyes ...

And when, at last, I turned to see What held her scared, I saw a man-- A fat man with dull eyes aleer-- Within the shadow of the van; And I was on the point to rise To send him spinning 'mid the wheels And stop his leering grin with mud ...

And would have done it in a tick ...

When, suddenly, alive with fright, She started, with red, parted lips, As though she guessed we'd come to grips, And turned her black eyes full on me ...

And as I looked into their light My heart forgot the l.u.s.t of fight, And something shot me to the quick, And ran like wildfire through my blood, And tingled to my finger-tips ...

And, in a dazzling flash, I knew I'd never been alive before ...

And she was mine for evermore.

While all the others slept asnore In caravan and tent that night, I lay alone beside the fire; And stared into its blazing core, With eyes that would not shut or tire, Because the best of all was true, And they looked still into the light Of her eyes, burning ever bright.

Within the brightest coal for me ...

Once more, I saw her, as she started, And glanced at me with red lips parted: And as she looked, the frightened hare Had fled her eyes; and merrily, She smiled, with fine teeth flashing white, As though she, too, were happy-hearted ...

Then she had trembled suddenly, And dropped her eyes, as that fat man Stepped from the shadow of the van, And joined the circle, as the pot Was lifted off, and, piping-hot, The supper steamed in wooden bowls.

Yet, she had hardly touched a bite; And never raised her eyes all night To mine again; but on the coals, As I sat staring, she had stared-- The black curls, shining round her head From under the red kerchief, tied So nattily beneath her chin-- And she had stolen off to bed Quite early, looking dazed and scared.

Then, all agape and sleepy-eyed, Ere long the others had turned in: And I was rid of that fat man, Who slouched away to his own van.

And now, before her van, I lay, With sleepless eyes, awaiting day; And as I gazed upon the glare I heard, behind, a gentle stir: And, turning round, I looked on her Where she stood on the little stair Outside the van, with listening air-- And, in her eyes, the hunted hare ...

And then, I saw her slip away, A bundle underneath her arm, Without a single glance at me.

I lay a moment wondering, My heart a-thump like anything, Then, fearing she should come to harm, I rose, and followed speedily Where she had vanished in the night.

And as she heard my step behind She started, and stopt dead with fright; Then blundered on as if struck blind: And now as I caught up with her, Just as she took the moorland track, I saw the hare's eyes, big and black ...

She made as though she'd double back ...

But when she looked into my eyes, She stood quite still and did not stir ...

And picking up her fallen pack I tucked it 'neath my arm; and she Just took her luck quite quietly, As she must take what chance might come, And would not have it otherwise, And walked into the night with me, Without a word across the fells.

And all about us, through the night, The mists were stealing, cold and white, Down every rushy syke or slack: But, soon the moon swung into sight; And as we went my heart was light.

And singing like a burn in flood: And in my ears were tinkling bells; My body was a rattled drum: And fifes were shrilling through my blood That summer night, to think that she Was walking through the world with me.

But when the air with dawn was chill.

As we were travelling down a hill, She broke her silence with low-sobbing; And told her tale, her bosom throbbing As though her very heart were shaken With fear she'd yet be overtaken ...

She'd always lived in caravans-- Her father's, gay as any man's, Gra.s.s-green, picked out with red and yellow And glittering brave with burnished bra.s.s That sparkled in the sun like flame, And window curtains, white as snow ...

But, they had died, ten years ago, Her parents both, when fever came ...

And they were buried, side by side.

Somewhere beneath the wayside gra.s.s ...

In times of sickness, they kept wide Of towns and busybodies, so No parson's or policeman's tricks Should bother them when in a fix ...

Her father never could abide A black coat or a blue, poor man ...

And so, Long d.i.c.k, a kindly fellow, When you could keep him from the can, And Meg, his easy-going wife, Had taken her into their van; And kept her since her parents died ...

And she had lived a happy life, Until Fat Pete's young wife was taken ...

But, ever since, he'd pestered her ...

And she dared scarcely breathe or stir, Lest she should see his eyes aleer ...

And many a night she'd lain and shaken, And very nearly died of fear-- Though safe enough within the van With Mother Meg and her good-man-- For, since Fat Pete was Long d.i.c.k's friend, And they were thick and sweet as honey, And d.i.c.k owed Pete a pot of money, She knew too well how it must end ...

And she would rather lie stone dead Beneath the wayside gra.s.s than wed With leering Pete, and live the life, And die the death, of his first wife ...

And so, last night, clean-daft with dread, She'd bundled up a pack and fled ...

When all the sobbing tale was out, She dried her eyes, and looked about, As though she'd left all fear behind, And out of sight were out of mind, Then, when the dawn was burning red, 'I'm hungry as a hawk!' she said: And from the bundle took out bread, And at the happy end of night We sat together by a burn: And ate a thick slice, turn by turn; And laughed and kissed between each bite.

Then, up again, and on our way We went; and tramped the livelong day The moorland trackways, steep and rough, Though there was little fear enough That they would follow on our flight.

And then again a shiny night Among the honey-scented heather, We wandered in the moonblaze bright, Together through a land of light, A lad and la.s.s alone with life.

And merrily we laughed together, When, starting up from sleep, we heard The c.o.c.k-grouse talking to his wife ...

And 'Old Fat Pete' she called the bird.

Six months and more have cantered by: And, Winter past, we're out again-- We've left the fat and weatherwise To keep their coops and reeking sties.

And eat their fill of oven-pies, While we win free and out again To take potluck beneath the sky With sun and moon and wind and rain.

Six happy months ... and yet, at night, I've often wakened in affright, And looked upon her lying there, Beside me sleeping quietly, Adread that when she waked, I'd see The hunted hare within her eyes.

And only last night, as I slept Beneath the shelter of a stack ...

My hands were hot upon a hare, Half-strangled, struggling in the snare, When, suddenly, her eyes shot back, Big, fearful, staggering and black; And ere I knew, my grip was slack, And I was clutching empty air ...

Bolt-upright from my sleep I leapt ...

Her place was empty in the straw ...

And then, with quaking heart, I saw That she was standing in the night, A leveret cuddled to her breast ...

I spoke no word; but as the light Through banks of Eastern cloud was breaking, She turned, and saw that I was waking: And told me how she could not rest; And, rising in the night, she'd found This baby-hare crouched on the ground; And she had nursed it quite a while; But, now, she'd better let it go ...

Its mother would be fretting so ...

A mother's heart ...

I saw her smile, And look at me with tender eyes; And as I looked into their light, My foolish, fearful heart grew wise ...

And now, I knew that never there I'd see again the startled hare, Or need to dread the dreams of night.

GERANIUMS

Stuck in a bottle on the window-sill, In the cold gaslight burning gaily red Against the luminous blue of London night, These flowers are mine: while somewhere out of sight In some black-throated alley's stench and heat, Oblivious of the racket of the street, A poor old weary woman lies in bed.

Broken with l.u.s.t and drink, blear-eyed and ill, Her battered bonnet nodding on her head, From a dark arch she clutched my sleeve and said: 'I've sold no bunch to-day, nor touched a bite ...

Son, buy six-pennorth; and 't will mean a bed.'

So blazing gaily red Against the luminous deeps Of starless London night, They burn for my delight: While somewhere, snug in bed, A worn old woman sleeps.

And yet to-morrow will these blooms be dead With all their lively beauty; and to-morrow May end the light l.u.s.ts and the heavy sorrow Of that old body with the nodding head.

The last oath muttered, the last pint drained deep, She'll sink, as Cleopatra sank, to sleep; Nor need to barter blossoms for a bed.

DEVIL'S EDGE

All night I lay on Devil's Edge, Along an overhanging ledge Between the sky and sea: And as I rested 'waiting sleep, The windless sky and soundless deep In one dim, blue infinity Of starry peace encompa.s.sed me.