A Cluster of Grapes | Page 9

ruin,?Cheerful in chains, as then?When old unbroken Pickwick walked?Among the broken men.
Still he that dreams and rambles?Through his own elfin air,?Knows that the street's a prison,?Knows that the gates are there:?Still he that scorns or struggles,?Sees frightful and afar?All that they leave of rebels?Rot high on Temple Bar.
All that I loved and hated,?All that I shunned and knew,?Clears in broad battle lightening;?Where they, and I, and you,?Run high the barricade that breaks?The barriers of the Street,?And shout to them that shrink within,?The Prisoners of the Fleet!
THE TRUCE OF CHRISTMAS
Passionate peace is in the sky?And on the snow in silver sealed?The beasts are perfect in the field?And men seem men so suddenly?But take ten swords, and ten times ten,?And blow the bugle in praising men?For we are for all men under the sun?And they are against us every one?And misers haggle, and mad men clutch?And there is peril in praising much?And we have the terrible tongues un-curled?That praise the world to the sons of the world.
The idle humble hill and wood?Are bowed about the sacred Birth?And for one little while the earth?Is lazy with the love of good?But ready are you and ready am I?If the battle blow and the guns go by?For we are for all men under the sun?And they are against us every one?For the men that hate herd altogether?To pride and gold and the great white feather?And the thing is graven in star and stone?That the men that love are all alone.
Hunger is hard and time is tough?But bless the beggars and kiss the kings?For hope has broken the heart of things?And nothing was ever praised enough?But hold the shield for a sudden swing?And point the sword in praising a thing?For we are for all men under the sun?And they are against us every one?And mime and merchant, thane and thrall,?Hate us because we love them all?Only till Christmas time goes by?Passionate peace is in the sky.
FRANCES CORNFORD
THE PRINCESS AND THE GIPSIES
As I looked out one May morning,?I saw the tree-tops green;?I said: "My crown I will lay down?And live no more a queen."
Then I tripped down my golden steps?All in my silken gown,?And when I stood in the open wood,?I met some gipsies brown.
"O gentle, gentle gipsies,?That roam the wide world through,?Because I hate my crown and state?O let me come with you.
"My councillors are old and grey,?And sit in narrow chairs;?But you can hear the birds sing clear,?And your hearts are as light as theirs."
"If you would come along with us,?Then you must count the cost;?For though in Spring the sweet birds sing,?In Winter comes the frost.
"Your ladies serve you all the day?With courtesy and care;?Your fine-shod feet they tread so neat,?But a gipsy's feet go bare.
"You wash in water running warm?Through basins all of gold;?The streams where we roam have silvery foam,?But the streams, the streams are cold.
"And barley-bread is bitter to taste,?While sugary cakes they please--?Which will you choose, O which will you choose,?Which will you choose of these?
"For if you choose the mountain streams?And barley-bread to eat,?Your heart will be free as the birds in the tree,?But the stones will cut your feet.
"The mud will spoil your silken gown,?And stain your insteps high;?The dogs in the farm will wish you harm?And bark as you go by.
"And though your heart grow deep and gay,?And your heart grow wise and rich,?The cold will make your bones to ache?And you will die in a ditch."
"O gentle, gentle gipsies,?That roam the wide world through,?Although I praise your wandering ways,?I dare not come with you."
I hung about their fingers brown?My ruby rings and chain,?And with my head as heavy as lead,?I turned me back again.
As I went up the palace steps,?I heard the gipsies laugh;?The birds of Spring so sweet did sing;?My heart it broke in half.
THE DANDELION
The dandelion is brave and gay,?And loves to grow beside the way;?A braver thing was never seen?To praise the grass for growing green;
You never saw a gayer thing,?To sit and smile and praise the Spring.
The children with their simple hearts,?The lazy men that come in carts,?The little dogs that lollop by,?They all have seen its shining eye:
And every one of them would say,?They never saw a thing so gay.
SOCIAL INTERCOURSE
Like to islands in the seas,?Stand our personalities--?Islands where we always face?One another's watering-place.?When we promenade our sands?We can hear each other's bands,?We can see on festal nights?Red and green and purple lights,?Gilt pavilions in a row,?Stucco houses built for show.
But our eyes can never reach?Further than the tawdry beach,?Never can they hope to win?To the wonders far within:?Jagged rocks against the sky?Where the eagles haunt and cry,?Forests full of running rills,?Darkest forests, sunny hills,?Hollows where a dragon lowers,?Sweet and unimagined flowers.
WALTER DE LA MARE
AN EPITAPH
Here lies a most beautiful lady,?Light of step and heart was she:?I think she was the