A Channel Passage and Other Poems | Page 5

into silence, none May hear what sound is the word's they speak to the brooding sun. None that hearken may hear: man may but pass and adore, And humble his heart in thanksgiving for joy that is now no more. And sudden, afront and ahead of him, joy is alive and aflame On the shrine whose incense is given of the godhead, again the
same.
Pale and pure as a maiden secluded in secret and cherished with
fear,?One sweet glad hawthorn smiles as it shrinks under shelter,
screened?By two strong brethren whose bounteous blossom outsoars it, year
after year,?While earth still cleaves to the live spring's breast as a babe
unweaned.?Never was amaranth fairer in fields where heroes of old found rest, Never was asphodel sweeter: but here they endure not long, Though ever the sight that salutes them again and adores them
awhile is blest,?And the heart is a hymn, and the sense is a soul, and the soul is
a song.?Alone on a dyke's trenched edge, and afar from the blossoming
wildwood's verge,?Laughs and lightens a sister, triumphal in love-lit pride; Clothed round with the sun, and inviolate: her blossoms exult as
the springtide surge,?When the wind and the dawn enkindle the snows of the shoreward
tide.
Hardly the worship of old that rejoiced as it knelt in the vision Shown of the God new-born whose breath is the spirit of spring Hailed ever with love more strong and defiant of death's derision A joy more perfect than here we mourn for as May takes wing. Time gives it and takes it again and restores it: the glory, the
wonder,?The triumph of lustrous blossom that makes of the steep sweet
bank?One visible marvel of music inaudible, over and under, Attuned as in heaven, pass hence and return for the sun to thank. The stars and the sun give thanks for the glory bestowed and
beholden,?For the gladness they give and rejoice in, the night and the dawn
and the day:?But nought they behold when the world is aflower and the season is
golden?Makes answer as meet and as sweet as the flower that itself is
May.
THE PASSING OF THE HAWTHORN
The coming of the hawthorn brings on earth?Heaven: all the spring speaks out in one sweet word, And heaven grows gladder, knowing that earth has heard. Ere half the flowers are jubilant in birth,?The splendour of the laughter of their mirth?Dazzles delight with wonder: man and bird?Rejoice and worship, stilled at heart and stirred?With rapture girt about with awe for girth.
The passing of the hawthorn takes away?Heaven: all the spring falls dumb, and all the soul?Sinks down in man for sorrow. Night and day?Forego the joy that made them one and whole.?The change that falls on every starry spray?Bids, flower by flower, the knell of springtime toll.
TO A BABY KINSWOMAN
Love, whose light thrills heaven and earth,?Smiles and weeps upon thy birth,?Child, whose mother's love-lit eyes?Watch thee but from Paradise.?Sweetest sight that earth can give,?Sweetest light of eyes that live,?Ours must needs, for hope withdrawn,?Hail with tears thy soft spring dawn.?Light of hope whose star hath set,?Light of love whose sun lives yet,?Holier, happier, heavenlier love?Breathes about thee, burns above,?Surely, sweet, than ours can be,?Shed from eyes we may not see,?Though thine own may see them shine?Night and day, perchance, on thine.?Sun and moon that lighten earth?Seem not fit to bless thy birth:?Scarce the very stars we know?Here seem bright enough to show?Whence in unimagined skies?Glows the vigil of such eyes.?Theirs whose heart is as a sea?Swoln with sorrowing love of thee?Fain would share with thine the sight?Seen alone of babes aright,?Watched of eyes more sweet than flowers?Sleeping or awake: but ours?Can but deem or dream or guess?Thee not wholly motherless.?Might they see or might they know?What nor faith nor hope may show,?We whose hearts yearn toward thee now?Then were blest and wise as thou.?Had we half thy knowledge,--had?Love such wisdom,--grief were glad,?Surely, lit by grace of thee;?Life were sweet as death may be.?Now the law that lies on men?Bids us mourn our dead: but then?Heaven and life and earth and death,?Quickened as by God's own breath,?All were turned from sorrow and strife:?Earth and death were heaven and life.?All too far are then and now?Sundered: none may be as thou.?Yet this grace is ours--a sign?Of that goodlier grace of thine,?Sweet, and thine alone--to see?Heaven, and heaven's own love, in thee.?Bless them, then, whose eyes caress?Thee, as only thou canst bless.?Comfort, faith, assurance, love,?Shine around us, brood above,?Fear grows hope, and hope grows wise,?Thrilled and lit by children's eyes.?Yet in ours the tears unshed,?Child, for hope that death leaves dead,?Needs must burn and tremble; thou?Knowest not, seest not, why nor how,?More than we know whence or why?Comes on babes that laugh and lie?Half asleep, in sweet-lipped scorn,?Light of smiles outlightening morn,?Whence enkindled as is earth?By the dawn's less radiant birth?All the body soft and sweet?Smiles on us from face