Poems by Christina Georgina Rossetti Part 55

Past hedge and ditch, past pond and wood He tramped, and on some common stood; There, cottage children circling gaily, He in their midmost footed daily.

Pandean pipes and drum and muzzle Were quite enough his brain to puzzle: But like a philosophic bear He let alone extraneous care And danced contented anywhere.

Still, year on year, and wear and tear, Age even the gruffest, bluffest bear.

A day came when he scarce could prance, And when his master looked askance On dancing Bear who would not dance.

To looks succeeded blows; hard blows Battered his ears and poor old nose.

From bluff and gruff he waxed curmudgeon; He danced indeed, but danced in dudgeon, Capered in fury fast and faster.

Ah, could he once but hug his master And perish in one joint disaster!

But deafness, blindness, weakness growing, Not fury's self could keep him going.

One dark day when the snow was snowing His cup was brimmed to overflowing: He tottered, toppled on one side, Growled once, and shook his head, and died.

The master kicked and struck in vain, The weary drudge had distanced pain And never now would wince again.

The master growled; he might have howled Or coaxed,--that slave's last growl was growled.

So gnawed by rancor and chagrin One thing remained: he sold the skin.

What next the man did is not worth Your notice or my setting forth, But hearken what befell at last.

His idle working days gone past, And not one friend and not one penny Stored up (if ever he had any Friends; but his coppers had been many), All doors stood shut against him but The workhouse door, which cannot shut.

There he droned on,--a grim old sinner, Toothless, and grumbling for his dinner, Unpitied quite, uncared for much (The rate-payers not favoring such), Hungry and gaunt, with time to spare; Perhaps the hungry, gaunt old Bear Danced back, a haunting memory.

Indeed, I hope so, for you see If once the hard old heart relented, The hard old man may have repented.

"A HELPMEET FOR HIM."

Woman was made for man's delight,-- Charm, O woman! Be not afraid!

His shadow by day, his moon by night, Woman was made.

Her strength with weakness is overlaid; Meek compliances veil her might; Him she stays, by whom she is stayed.

World-wide champion of truth and right, Hope in gloom, and in danger aid, Tender and faithful, ruddy and white, Woman was made.

A SONG OF FLIGHT.

While we slumber and sleep, The sun leaps up from the deep,-- Daylight born at the leap,-- Rapid, dominant, free, Athirst to bathe in the uttermost sea.

While we linger at play-- If the year would stand at May!-- Winds are up and away, Over land, over sea, To their goal, wherever their goal may be.

It is time to arise, To race for the promised prize; The sun flies, the wind flies, We are strong, we are free, And home lies beyond the stars and the sea.

A WINTRY SONNET.

A robin said: The Spring will never come, And I shall never care to build again.

A Rosebush said: These frosts are wearisome, My sap will never stir for sun or rain.

The half Moon said: These nights are fogged and slow, I neither care to wax nor care to wane.

The Ocean said: I thirst from long ago, Because earth's rivers cannot fill the main.

When springtime came, red Robin built a nest, And trilled a lover's song in sheer delight.

Gray h.o.a.rfrost vanished, and the Rose with might Clothed her in leaves and buds of crimson core.

The dim Moon brightened. Ocean sunned his crest, Dimpled his blue,--yet thirsted evermore.

RESURGAM.

From depth to height, from height to loftier height, The climber sets his foot and sets his face, Tracks lingering sunbeams to their halting-place, And counts the last pulsations of the light.

Strenuous thro' day and unsurprised by night He runs a race with Time, and wins the race, Emptied and stripped of all save only Grace, Will, Love,--a threefold panoply of might.

Darkness descends for light he toiled to seek; He stumbles on the darkened mountain-head, Left breathless in the unbreathable thin air, Made freeman of the living and the dead,-- He wots not he has topped the topmost peak, But the returning sun will find him there.

TO-DAY'S BURDEN.

"Arise, depart, for this is not your rest."

Oh, burden of all burdens,--still to arise And still depart, nor rest in any wise!

Rolling, still rolling thus to east from west, Earth journeys on her immemorial quest, Whom a moon chases in no different guise.

Thus stars pursue their courses, and thus flies The sun, and thus all creatures manifest Unrest, the common heritage, the ban Flung broadcast on all humankind,--on all Who live; for living, all are bound to die.

That which is old, we know that it is man.

These have no rest who sit and dream and sigh, Nor have those rest who wrestle and who fall.

"THERE IS A BUDDING MORROW IN MIDNIGHT."

Wintry boughs against a wintry sky; Yet the sky is partly blue And the clouds are partly bright.

Who can tell but sap is mounting high Out of sight, Ready to burst through?

Winter is the mother-nurse of Spring, Lovely for her daughter's sake.

Not unlovely for her own; For a future buds in everything Grown or blown Or about to break.

EXULTATE DEO.

Many a flower hath perfume for its dower, And many a bird a song, And harmless lambs milkwhite beside their dams Frolic along,-- Perfume and song and whiteness offering praise In humble, peaceful ways.

Man's high degree hath will and memory, Affection and desire; By loftier ways he mounts of prayer and praise, Fire unto fire, Deep unto deep responsive, height to height, Until he walk in white.

A HOPE CAROL.