The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 16

1914.

THE PROUD LADY

When Stavoren town was in its prime And queened the Zuyder Zee, Her ships went out to every clime With costly merchantry.

A lady dwelt in that rich town, The fairest in all the land; She walked abroad in a velvet gown, With many rings on her hand.

Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, Her lips as coral red, Her roving eyes were blue and bold, And her heart with pride was fed.

For she was proud of her father's ships, As she watched them gaily pa.s.s; And pride looked out of her eyes and lips When she saw herself in the gla.s.s.

"Now come," she said to the captains ten, Who were ready to put to sea, "Ye are all my men and my father's men, And what will ye do for me?"

"Go north and south, go east and west, And get me gifts," she said.

"And he who bringeth me home the best, With that man will I wed."

So they all fared forth, and sought with care In many a famous mart, For satins and silks and jewels rare, To win that lady's heart.

She looked at them all with never a thought, And careless put them by; "I am not fain of the things ye brought, Enough of these have I."

The last that came was the head of the fleet, His name was Jan Borel; He bent his knee at the lady's feet,-- In truth he loved her well.

"I've brought thee home the best i' the world, A shipful of Danzig corn!"

She stared at him long; her red lips curled, Her blue eyes filled with scorn.

"Now out on thee, thou f.e.c.kless kerl, A loon thou art," she said.

"Am I a starving beggar girl?

Shall I ever lack for bread?"

"Go empty all thy sacks of grain Into the nearest sea, And never show thy face again To make a mock of me."

Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, But in the harbour cast The sacks of golden corn he brought, And groaned when fell the last.

Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, And out to sea he bore; He pa.s.sed the Helder in a gale And came again no more.

But the grains of corn went drifting down Like devil-scattered seed, To sow the harbour of the town With a wicked growth of weed.

The roots were thick and the silt and sand Were gathered day by day, Till not a furlong out from land A shoal had barred the way.

Then Stavoren town saw evil years, No ships could out or in, The boats lay rotting at the piers, And the mouldy grain in the bin.

The gra.s.s-grown streets were all forlorn, The town in ruin stood, The lady's velvet gown was torn, Her rings were sold for food.

Her father had perished long ago, But the lady held her pride, She walked with a scornful step and slow, Till at last in her rags she died.

Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, When the midnight moon shines free, A woman walks in a velvet gown And scatters corn in the sea.

1917.

LYRICS OF LABOUR AND ROMANCE

A MILE WITH ME

O who will walk a mile with me Along life's merry way?

A comrade blithe and full of glee, Who dares to laugh out loud and free, And let his frolic fancy play, Like a happy child, through the flowers gay That fill the field and fringe the way Where he walks a mile with me.

And who will walk a mile with me Along life's weary way?

A friend whose heart has eyes to see The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea, And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,-- A friend who knows, and dares to say, The brave, sweet words that cheer the way Where he walks a mile with me.

With such a comrade, such a friend, I fain would walk till journeys end, Through summer sunshine, winter rain, And then?--Farewell, we shall meet again!

THE THREE BEST THINGS

I

WORK

Let me but do my work from day to day, In field or forest, at the desk or loom, In roaring market-place or tranquil room; Let me but find it in my heart to say, When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; Of all who live, I am the one by whom This work can best be done in the right way."

Then shall I see it not too great, nor small, To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours, And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall At eventide, to play and love and rest, Because I know for me my work is best.

II

LOVE

Let me but love my love without disguise, Nor wear a mask of fashion old or new, Nor wait to speak till I can hear a clue, Nor play a part to shine in others' eyes, Nor bow my knees to what my heart denies; But what I am, to that let me be true, And let me worship where my love is due, And so through love and worship let me rise.

For love is but the heart's immortal thirst To be completely known and all forgiven, Even as sinful souls that enter Heaven: So take me, dear, and understand my worst, And freely pardon it, because confessed, And let me find in loving thee, my best.

III

LIFE

Let me but live my life from year to year, With forward face and unreluctant soul; Not hurrying to, nor turning from, the goal; Not mourning for the things that disappear In the dim past, nor holding back in fear From what the future veils; but with a whole And happy heart, that pays its toll To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer.