The Kingdom of Love Part 4

Unwearied, and with springing steps elate, I had conveyed my wealth along the road.

The empty sack proved now a heavier load: I was borne down beneath its worthless weight.

I stumbled on, and knocked at Death's dark gate.

There was no answer. Stung by sorrow's goad I _forced_ my way into that grim abode, And laughed, and flung Life's empty sack to Fate.

Unknown and uninvited I pa.s.sed in To that strange land that hangs between two goals, Round which a dark and solemn river rolls-- More dread its silence than the loud earth's din.

And now, where was the peace I hoped to win?

Black-masted ships slid past me in great shoals, Their b.l.o.o.d.y decks thronged with mistaken souls.

(G.o.d punishes mistakes sometimes like sin.)

Not rest and not oblivion I found.

My suffering self dwelt with me just the same; But here no sleep was, and no sweet dreams came To give me respite. Tyrant Death, uncrowned By my own hand, still King of Terrors, frowned Upon my shuddering soul, that shrank in shame Before those eyes where sorrow blent with blame, And those accusing lips that made no sound.

What gruesome shapes dawned on my startled sight What awful sighs broke on my listening ear!

The anguish of the earth, augmented here A thousand-fold, made one continuous night.

The sack I flung away in impious spite Hung yet upon me, filled, I saw in fear.

With tears that rained from earth's adjacent sphere, And turned to stones in falling from that height.

And close about me pressed a grieving throng, Each with his heavy sack, which bowed him so His face was hidden. One of these mourned: "Know Who enters here but finds the way more long To those fair realms where sounds the angels' song.

There is no man-made exit out of woe; Ye cannot dash the locked door down and go To claim thy rightful joy through paths of wrong."

He pa.s.sed into the shadows dim and grey, And left me to pursue my path alone.

With terror greater than I yet had known.

Hard on my soul the awful knowledge lay, Death had not ended life nor found G.o.d's way; But, with my same sad sorrows still my own, Where by-roads led to by-roads, thistle-sown, I had but wandered off and gone astray.

With earth still near enough to hear its sighs, With heaven afar and h.e.l.l but just below, Still on and on my lonely soul must go Until I earn the right to Paradise.

We cannot force our way into G.o.d's skies, Nor rush into the rest we long to know; But patiently, with bleeding steps and slow Toil on to where selfhood in G.o.dhood dies.

"NOW I LAY ME"

When I pa.s.s from earth away, Palsied though I be and grey, May my spirit keep so young That my failing, faltering tongue Frames that prayer so dear to me, Taught me at my mother's knee: "_Now I lay me down to sleep_,"

(Pa.s.sing to Eternal rest On the loving parent breast) "_I pray the Lord my soul to keep_;"

(From all danger safe and calm In the hollow of His palm;) "_If I should die before I wake_,"

(Drifting with a bated breath Out of slumber into death,) "_I pray the Lord my soul to take_."

(From the body's claim set free Sheltered in the Great to be.) Simple prayer of trust and truth.

Taught me in my early youth-- Let my soul its beauty keep When I lay me down to sleep.

THE MESSENGER

She rose up in the early dawn, And white and silently she moved About the house. Four men had gone To battle for the land they loved, And she, the mother and the wife, Waited for tidings from the strife.

How still the house seemed! and her tread Was like the footsteps of the dead.

The long day pa.s.sed, the dark night came; She had not seen a human face.

Some voice spoke suddenly her name.

How loud it echoed in that place Where, day by day, no sound was heard But her own footsteps! "Bring you word,"

She cried to whom she could not see, "Word from the battle-plain to me?"

A soldier entered at the door, And stood within the dim firelight: "I bring you tidings of the four,"

He said, "who left you for the fight."

"G.o.d bless you, friend," she cried; "speak on!

For I can bear it. One is gone?"

"Ay, one is gone!" he said. "Which one?"

"Dear lady, he, your eldest son."

A deathly pallor shot across Her withered face; she did not weep.

She said: "It is a grievous loss, But G.o.d gives His beloved sleep.

What of the living--of the three?

And when can they come back to me?"

The soldier turned away his head: "Lady, your husband, too, is dead."

She put her hand upon her brow; A wild, sharp pain was in her eyes.

"My husband! Oh, G.o.d, help me now!"

The soldier heard her shuddering sighs.

The task was harder than he thought.

"Your youngest son, dear madam, fought Close at his father's side; both fell Dead, by the bursting of a sh.e.l.l."

She moved her lips and seemed to moan.

Her face had paled to ashen grey: "Then one is left me--one alone,"

She said, "of four who marched away.

Oh, overruling, All-wise G.o.d, How can I pa.s.s beneath Thy rod!"

The soldier walked across the floor, Paused at the window, at the door,

Wiped the cold dew-drops from his cheek And sought the mourner's side again.

"Once more, dear lady, I must speak: Your last remaining son was slain Just at the closing of the fight; Twas he who sent me here to-night."

"G.o.d knows," the man said afterward, "The fight itself was not so hard."

A SERVIAN LEGEND

Long, long ago, ere yet our race began, When earth was empty, waiting still for man, Before the breath of life to him was given The angels fell into a strife in heaven.

At length one furious demon grasped the sun And sped away as fast as he could run, And with a ringing laugh of fiendish mirth, He leaped the battlements and fell to earth.

Dark was it then in heaven, but light below; For there the demon wandered to and fro, Tilting aloft upon a slender pole The orb of day--the pilfering old soul.

The angels wept and wailed; but through the dark The Great Creator's voice cried sternly: "Hark!

Who will restore to me the orb of Light, Him will I honour in all heaven's sight."

Then over the battlements there dropped another.