By Still Waters | Page 3

flew from deeps of gold To deeps of gold within my breast to rest or there to be Transfigured in the light, or find a death to life in me. So love, a burning multitude, a seraph wind which blows From out the deep of being to the deep of being goes:?And sun and moon and starry fires and earth and air and sea Are creatures from the deep let loose who pause in ecstasy, Or wing their wild and heavenly way until again they find The ancient deep and fade therein, enraptured, bright and blind.
REFLECTIONS
How shallow is this mere that gleams!?Its depth of blue is from the skies;?And from a distant sun the dreams?And lovely light within your eyes.
We deem our love so infinite?Because the Lord is everywhere,?And love awakening is made bright?And bathed in that diviner air.
We go on our enchanted way?And deem our hours immortal hours,?Who are but shadow kings that play?With mirrored majesties and powers.
THE DAWN OF DARKNESS
Come earth's little children pit-pat from their burrows on the hill; Hangs within the gloom its weary head the shining daffodil. In the valley underneath us through the fragrance flit along Over fields and over hedgerows little quivering drops of song. All adown the pale blue mantle of the mountains far away Stream the tresses of the twilight flying in the wake of day. Night comes; soon alone shall fancy follow sadly in her flight Where the fiery dust of evening, shaken from the feet of light, Thrusts its monstrous barriers between the pure, the good, the true, That our weeping eyes may strain for, but shall never after view. Only yester eve I watched with heart at rest the nebul? Looming far within the shadowy shining of the Milky Way; Finding in the stillness joy and hope for all the sons of men; Now what silent anguish fills a night more beautiful than then. For earth's age of pain has come, and all her sister planets weep, Thinking of her fires of morning passing into dreamless sleep. In this cycle of great sorrow for the moments that we last We too shall be linked by weeping to the greatness of her past: But the coming race shall know not, and the fount of tears shall dry, And the arid heart of man be arid as the desert sky.?So within my mind the darkness dawned and round me everywhere Hope departed with the twilight, leaving only dumb despair.
NATURAL MAGIC
We are tired who follow after?Phantasy and truth that flies:?You with only look and laughter?Stain our hearts with richest dyes.
When you break upon our study?Vanish all our frosty cares;?As the diamond deep grows ruddy,?Filled with morning unawares.
With the stuff that dreams are made of?But an empty house we build:?Glooms we are ourselves afraid of,?By the ancient starlight chilled.
All unwise in thought or duty--?Still our wisdom envies you:?We who lack the living beauty?Half our secret knowledge rue.
Thought nor fear in you nor dreaming?Veil the light with mist about;?Joy, as through a crystal gleaming,?Flashes from the gay heart out.
Pain and penitence forsaking,?Hearts like cloisters dim and grey,?By your laughter lured, awaking?Join with you the dance of day.
IN THE WOMB
Still rests the heavy share on the dark soil:?Upon the black mould thick the dew-damp lies:?The horse waits patient: from his lowly toil?The ploughboy to the morning lifts his eyes.
The unbudding hedgerows dark against day's fires?Glitter with gold-lit crystals: on the rim?Over the unregarding city's spires?The lonely beauty shines alone for him.
And day by day the dawn or dark enfolds?And feeds with beauty eyes that cannot see?How in her womb the mighty mother moulds?The infant spirit for eternity.
FORGIVENESS
At dusk the window panes grew grey;?The wet world vanished in the gloom;?The dim and silver end of day?Scarce glimmered through the little room.
And all my sins were told; I said?Such things to her who knew not sin--?The sharp ache throbbing in my head,?The fever running high within.
I touched with pain her purity;?Sin's darker sense I could not bring:?My soul was black as night to me:?To her I was a wounded thing.
I needed love no words could say;?She drew me softly nigh her chair,?My head upon her knees to lay,?With cool hands that caressed my hair.
She sat with hands as if to bless,?And looked with grave, ethereal eyes;?Ensouled by ancient quietness,?A gentle priestess of the Wise.
A WOMAN'S VOICE
His head within my bosom lay,?But yet his spirit slipped not through:?I only felt the burning clay?That withered for the cooling dew.
It was but pity when I spoke?And called him to my heart for rest,?And half a mother's love that woke?Feeling his head upon my breast:
And half the lion's tenderness?To shield her cubs from hurt or death,?Which, when the serried hunters press,?Makes terrible her wounded breath.
But when the lips I breathed upon?Asked for such love as equals claim?I looked where all