Later Poems Part 19

The G.o.d of the Wood

Here all the forces of the wood As one converge, To make the soul of solitude Where all things merge.

The sun, the rain-wind, and the rain, The visiting moon, The hurrying cloud by peak and plain, Each with its boon.

Here power attains perfection still In mighty ease, That the great earth may have her will Of joy and peace.

And so through me, the mortal born Of plasmic clay, Immortal powers, kind, fierce, forlorn, And glad, have sway.

Eternal pa.s.sions, ardors fine, And monstrous fears, Rule and rebel, serene, malign, Or loosed in tears;

Until at last they shall evolve From griefs and joys Some steady light, some firm resolve, Some G.o.dlike poise.

At Sunrise

Now the stars have faded In the purple chill, Lo, the sun is kindling On the eastern hill.

Tree by tree the forest Takes the golden tinge, As the shafts of glory Pierce the summit's fringe.

Rock by rock the ledges Take the rosy sheen, As the tide of splendor Floods the dark ravine.

Like a shining angel At my cabin door, Shod with hope and silence, Day is come once more.

Then, as if in sorrow That you are not here, All his magic beauties Gray and disappear.

At Twilight

Now the fire is lighted On the chimney stone, Day goes down the valley, I am left alone.

Now the misty purple Floods the darkened vale, And the stars come out On the twilight trail.

The mountain river murmurs In his rocky bed, And the stealthy shadows Fill the house with dread.

Then I hear your laughter At the open door,-- Brightly burns the fire, I need fear no more.

Moonrise

At the end of the road through the wood I see the great moon rise.

The fields are flooded with shine, And my soul with surmise.

What if that mystic orb With her shadowy beams, Should be the revealer at last Of my darkest dreams!

What if this tender fire In my heart's deep hold Should be wiser than all the lore Of the sages of old!

The Queen of Night

Mortal, mortal, have you seen In the scented summer night, Great Astarte, clad in green With a veil of mystic light, Pa.s.sing on her silent way, Pale and lovelier than day?

Mortal, mortal, have you heard, On an odorous summer eve, Rumors of an unknown word Bidding sorrow not to grieve,-- Echoes of a silver voice Bidding every heart rejoice?

Mortal, when the slim new moon Hangs above the western hill, When the year comes round to June And the leafy world is still, Then, enraptured, you shall hear Secrets for a poet's ear.

Mortal, mortal, come with me, When the moon is rising large, Through the wood or from the sea, Or by some lone river marge.

There, entranced, you shall behold Beauty's self, that grows not old.

Night Lyric

In the world's far edges Faint and blue, Where the rocky ledges Stand in view,

Fades the rosy, tender Evening light; Then in starry splendor Comes the night.

So a stormy lifetime Comes to close, Spirit's mortal strifetime Finds repose.

Faith and toil and vision Crowned at last, Failure and derision Overpast,--

All the daylight splendor Far above, Calm and sure and tender Comes thy love.

The Heart of Night

When all the stars are sown Across the night-blue s.p.a.ce, With the immense unknown, In silence face to face.

We stand in speechless awe While Beauty marches by, And wonder at the Law Which wears such majesty.

How small a thing is man In all that world-sown vast, That he should hope or plan Or dream his dream could last!

O doubter of the light, Confused by fear and wrong, Lean on the heart of night And let love make thee strong!

The Good that is the True Is clothed with Beauty still.

Lo, in their tent of blue, The stars above the hill!