The Verse-Book of a Homely Woman Part 9

They soothed away the weariness, and brought Such peace to one worn woman, over- wrought,

That she forgot the things which vexed her so: The too outrageous price of calico,

The shop-girl's look of pitying insolence Because she paused to count the dwindling pence.

The player stopped. But the rapt vision stayed.

That woman faced life's worries unafraid.

The sugar shortage now had ceased to be An insurmountable calamity.

Her kingdom was not bacon, no, nor b.u.t.ter, But things more costly still, too rare to utter.

And, over chimney-pots, so bare and tall, The sun set gloriously, after all.

On All Souls' Eve

Oh, the garden ways are lonely!

Winds that bl.u.s.ter, winds that shout, Battle with the strong laburnum, Toss the sad brown leaves about.

In the gay herbaceous border, Now a scene of wild disorder, The last dear hollyhock has flamed his crimson glory out.

Yet, upon this night of longing, Souls are all abroad, they say.

Will they come, the dazzling blossoms, That were here but yesterday?

Will the ghosts of radiant roses And my sheltered lily-closes Hold once more their shattered fragrance now November's on her way?

Wallflowers, surely you'll remember, Pinks, recall it, will you not?

How I loved and watched and tended, Made this ground a hallowed spot: Pansies, with the soft meek faces, Harebells, with a thousand graces: Dear dead loves, I wait and listen. Tell me, have you quite forgot?

HUSH! THEY COME! For down the path- way Steals a fragrance honey-sweet.

Larkspurs, lilies, stocks, and roses, Hasten now my heart to greet.

Stay, oh, stay! My hands would hold you . . .

But the arms that would enfold you Crush the bush of lad's love growing in the dusk beside my feet.

The Log Fire

In her last hour of life the tree Gave up her glorious memories, Wild scent of wood anemone, The sapphire blue of April skies.

With faint but ever-strength'ning flame, The dew-drenched hyacinthine spires Were lost, as red-gold bracken came, With maple bathed in living fires.

Grey smoke of ancient clematis Towards the silver birch inclined, And deep in th.o.r.n.y fastnesses The coral bryony entwined.

Then softly through the dusky room They strayed, fair ghosts of other days, With breath like early cherry bloom, With tender eyes and gentle ways.

They glimmered on the sombre walls, They danced upon the oaken floor, Till through the loudly silent halls Joy reigned majestical once more.

Up blazed the fire, and, dazzling clear, One rapturous Spirit radiant stood.

'Twas you at last! Yes, YOU, my dear.

We two were back in Gatcombe Wood!

G.o.d save the King

G.o.d SAVE OUR GRACIOUS KING. (It seems The Church is full of bygone dreams.)

LONG LIVE OUR n.o.bLE KING. (My own, 'Tis hard to stand here all alone.)

G.o.d SAVE THE KING. (But, sweetheart, you Were always brave to dare and do.)

SEND HIM VICTORIOUS. (For then, My darling will come home again!)

HAPPY AND GLORIOUS ('Twill be Like Heaven to him--and what to me?)

LONG TO REIGN OVER US. (My dear!

And we'd been wedded one short year!)

G.o.d SAVE OUR KING. (And Lord, I pray Keep MY King safe this very day.)

Forgive us, thou--great England's kingly King That thus do women National Anthems sing.