Songs from Books Part 25

Eyes aloft, over dangerous places, The children follow the b.u.t.terflies, And, in the sweat of their upturned faces, Slash with a net at the empty skies.

So it goes they fall amid brambles, And sting their toes on the nettle-tops, Till, after a thousand scratches and scrambles, They wipe their brows and the hunting stops.

Then to quiet them comes their father And stills the riot of pain and grief, Saying, 'Little ones, go and gather Out of my garden a cabbage-leaf.

'You will find on it whorls and clots of Dull grey eggs that, properly fed, Turn, by way of the worm, to lots of Glorious b.u.t.terflies raised from the dead...,'

'Heaven is beautiful, Earth is ugly,'

The three-dimensioned preacher saith, So we must not look where the snail and the slug lie For Psyche's birth.... And that is our death!

MY LADY'S LAW

The Law whereby my lady moves Was never Law to me, But 'tis enough that she approves Whatever Law it be.

For in that Law, and by that Law, My constant course I'll steer; Not that I heed or deem it dread, But that she holds it dear.

Tho' Asia sent for my content Her richest argosies, Those would I spurn, and bid return, If that should give her ease.

With equal heart I'd watch depart Each spiced sail from sight, Sans bitterness, desiring less Great gear than her delight.

Though Kings made swift with many a gift My proven sword to hire, I would not go nor serve 'em so, Except at her desire.

With even mind, I'd put behind Adventure and acclaim, And clean give o'er, esteeming more Her favour than my fame.

Yet such am I, yea such am I-- Sore bond and freest free, The Law that sways my lady's ways Is mystery to me!

THE NURSING SISTER

_(Maternity Hospital)_

Our sister sayeth such and such.

And we must bow to her behests; Our sister toileth overmuch, Our little maid that hath no b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

A field untilled, a web unwove, A flower withheld from sun or bee, An alien in the courts of Love, And--teacher unto such as we!

We love her, but we laugh the while, We laugh, but sobs are mixed with laughter; Our sister hath no time to smile, She knows not what must follow after.

Wind of the South, arise and blow, From beds of spice thy locks shake free; Breathe on her heart that she may know, Breathe on her eyes that she may see.

Alas! we vex her with our mirth, And maze her with most tender scorn, Who stands beside the gates of Birth, Herself a child--a child unborn!

_Our sister sayeth such and such, And we must bow to her behests; Our sister toileth overmuch, Our little maid that hath no b.r.e.a.s.t.s._

THE LOVE SONG OF HAR DYAL

Alone upon the housetops to the North I turn and watch the lightning in the sky-- The glamour of thy footsteps in the North.

_Come back to me, Beloved, or I die._

Below my feet the still bazar is laid-- Far, far below the weary camels lie-- The camels and the captives of thy raid.

_Come back to me, Beloved, or I die!_

My father's wife is old and harsh with years, And drudge of all my father's house am I-- My bread is sorrow and my drink is tears.

_Come back to me. Beloved, or I die!_

A DEDICATION

And they were stronger hands than mine That digged the Ruby from the earth-- More cunning brains that made it worth The large desire of a king, And stouter hearts that through the brine Went down the perfect Pearl to bring.

Lo, I have wrought in common clay Rude figures of a rough-hewn race, Since pearls strew not the market-place In this my town of banishment, Where with the shifting dust I play, And eat the bread of discontent.

Yet is there life in that I make.

O thou who knowest, turn and see-- As thou hast power over me So have I power over these, Because I wrought them for thy sake, And breathed in them mine agonies.

Small mirth was in the making--now I lift the cloth that cloaks the clay, And, wearied, at thy feet I lay My wares, ere I go forth to sell.

The long bazar will praise, but thou-- Heart of my heart--have I done well?

MOTHER O' MINE

If I were hanged on the highest hill, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_ I know whose love would follow me still, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_

If I were drowned in the deepest sea, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_ I know whose tears would come down to me, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_

If I were d.a.m.ned of body and soul, I know whose prayers would make me whole, _Mother o' mine, O mother o' mine!_

THE ONLY SON