Fires of Driftwood | Page 7

pity me my fate And drop their merry voices as they pass the garden gate)?For love that finds a way to come, can find a way to wait!
The Passer-By
WE are as children in a field at play?Beside a road whose way we do not know,?Save that somewhere it meets the end of day.
Upon the road there is a Passer-By?Who, pausing, beckons one of us--and lo!?Quickly he goes, nor stays to tell us why.
One day I shall look up and see him there?Beckoning me, and with the Passer-By?I, too, shall take the road--I wonder where?
First Love
BY the pulse that beats in my throat?By my heart like a bird?I know who passed through the dusk?Though he spoke no word!
I cannot move in my place,?I am chained and still;?I pray that the moon pause not?By my window-sill.
I have hidden my face in my hair?And my eyes are veiled--?Not even a star must know?How my lips have paled--
Was ever a night so quick?'Neath a moon so round??I hear the earth as it turns--?And my heart's low sound!
Sad One, Must You Weep
"SAD one, must you weep alway??Youth's ill wedded with despair;?Ringless hand and robe of grey?Mock the charms which they declare."
Sad and sweetly answered she,?"What are comely robes to me??I would wear a grass green dress,?Dew pearls for my gems--no less?Now can comfort me."
"Sweet, the shining of your hair?(All forgotten and undone)?Squanders 'neath the veil you wear?Gold whose loss bereaves the sun."
Very sad and low said she,?"What is shining hair to me??When from out the rain-wet mold?Kingcups borrow of its gold?Sweet and sweet 'twill be."
"Love, O Love! your hand is chill?As a snowflake lost in spring,?Wild it flutters--then lies still?As a bird with prisoned wing!"
Sad and patient answered she,?"As a bird I would be free;?As the spring I would find birth?In the sweet, forgetful earth--?Pray you, let it be!"
Joseph
NEVER in all her sweet and holy youth?Seemed she so beautiful! The tired lines?Etch her white face with look so wholly pure?I tremble--dare I speak to her of aught?--?She is so wrapt in silence. Yet her lips?Part on a word whose honey she doth taste?And fears to lose by uttering too soon.?I know the word; its meaning is plain writ?In the wide eyes she turns upon the Child.?I dare not speak. No word of mine could find?Its way into a soul close sealed with God?And busy with the thousand mysteries?Revealed to every mother. The soft hair?Veiling her placid brow is all unbound,?Ungentle hands are mine but, trained by love,?She might conceive them gentle--yet, I pause--?I'll not disturb her thought . . . . .
What meant those men,?Far-famed and wise, who came to see the Child??Their gifts lie by forgotten, though the Babe?Smiled on the shining treasure in his hands.?(Those tiny hands like crumpled bits of gauze)?Their sayings were mysterious to me.?"A King!" they said. What King?
The mother smiled?As one who knew; and it is true they knelt?As to a King. The thing disturbs me much!?I'll ask--but no . . . . .
The breathless shepherds, too;?Plain men, blank-eyed with awe, in broken speech?Stumbling some strange, glad tale of midnight sky?A-shine with angel wings! And at their word?Again the mother smiled, as one who sees?No wonder but what well might happen since?A child is born to her. Are mothers so??And are they prone to dream the careless earth?And distant heaven wait upon their joy??I'll speak to her . . . . .
What is that in her look?Which answers me--yet leaves me wondering still,?With wonder so like rapture that I seem?Caught up a breathless second into Heaven??She turns deep eyes upon me, and she smiles,?Always she smiles! Ah, Mary! could I know?The source of that glad smile--what would I know??I dare not dream, save that the mystery?Is not yet given . . . one day I may know!
A Christmas Child
SHE came to me at Christmas time and made me mother, and it seemed There was a Christ indeed and He had given me the joy I'd dreamed.
She nestled to me, and I kept her near and warm, surprised to find The arms that held my babe so close were opened wider to her kind.
I hid her safe within my heart. "My heart" I said, "is all for you," But lo! She left the door ajar and all the world came flocking through.
She needed me. I learned to know the royal joy that service brings, She was so helpless that I grew to love all little helpless things.
She trusted me, and I who ne'er had trusted, save in self, grew cold With panic lest this precious life should know no stronger, surer hold.
She lay and smiled and in her eyes I watched my narrow world grow broad, Within her tiny, crumpled hand I touched the mighty hand of God!
Spring in Nazareth
"THE Spring is come!" a shepherd saith;?Sing, sweet Mary,?"The Spring is