Forty-Two Poems | Page 7

all their pride,?Doomed to be cruel once again,
And live dissatisfied.
WAR SONG OF THE SARACENS
We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or late:?We storm at your ivory gate: Pale Kings of the Sunset, beware! Not on silk nor in samet we lie, not in curtained solemnity die Among women who chatter and cry, and children who mumble a prayer. But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, and we rise with a shout, and we tramp?With the sun or the moon for a lamp, and the spray of the wind in our hair.
From the lands, where the elephants are, to the forts of Merou and Balghar,?Our steel we have brought and our star to shine on the ruins of Rum. We have marched from the Indus to Spain, and by God we will go there again;?We have stood on the shore of the plain where the Waters of Destiny boom.
A mart of destruction we made at Jalula where men were afraid, For death was a difficult trade, and the sword was a broker of doom; And the Spear was a Desert Physician who cured not a few of ambition, And drave not a few to perdition with medicine bitter and strong: And the shield was a grief to the fool and as bright as a desolate pool, And as straight as the rock of Stamboul when their cavalry thundered along:?For the coward was drowned with the brave when our battle sheered up like a wave,?And the dead to the desert we gave, and the glory to God in our song.
JOSEPH AND MARY
JOSEPH
Mary, art thou the little maid
Who plucked me flowers in Spring??I know thee not: I feel afraid:
Thou'rt strange this evening.
A sweet and rustic girl I won
What time the woods were green;?No woman with deep eyes that shone,
And the pale brows of a Queen.
MARY (inattentive to his words.)
A stranger came with feet of flame
And told me this strange thing, -?For all I was a village maid
My son should be a King.
JOSEPH
A King, dear wife. Who ever knew
Of Kings in stables born!
MARY
Do you hear, in the dark and starlit blue
The clarion and the horn?
JOSEPH
Mary, alas, lest grief and joy
Have sent thy wits astray;?But let me look on this my boy,
And take the wraps away.
MARY
Behold the lad.
JOSEPH
I dare not gaze:?Light streams from every limb.
MARY
The winter sun has stored his rays,
And passed the fire to him.
Look Eastward, look! I hear a sound.
O Joseph, what do you see?
JOSEPH
The snow lies quiet on the ground
And glistens on the tree;
The sky is bright with a star's great light,
And clearly I behold?Three Kings descending yonder hill,
Whose crowns are crowns of gold.
O Mary, what do you hear and see
With your brow toward the West?
MARY
The snow lies glistening on the tree
And silent on Earth's breast;
And strong and tall, with lifted eyes
Seven shepherds walk this way,?And angels breaking from the skies
Dance, and sing hymns, and pray.
JOSEPH
I wonder much at these bright Kings;
The shepherds I despise.
MARY
You know not what a shepherd sings,
Nor see his shining eyes.
NO COWARD'S SONG
I am afraid to think about my death,?When it shall be, and whether in great pain?I shall rise up and fight the air for breath?Or calmly wait the bursting of my brain.
I am no coward who could seek in fear?A folklore solace or sweet Indian tales:?I know dead men are deaf and cannot hear?The singing of a thousand nightingales.
I know dead men are blind and cannot see?The friend that shuts in horror their big eyes,?And they are witless--O I'd rather be?A living mouse than dead as a man dies.
A WESTERN VOYAGE
My friend the Sun--like all my friends
Inconstant, lovely, far away -?Is out, and bright, and condescends
To glory in our holiday.
A furious march with him I'll go
And race him in the Western train,?And wake the hills of long ago
And swim the Devon sea again.
I have done foolishly to head
The footway of the false moonbeams,?To light my lamp and call the dead
And read their long black printed dreams.
I have done foolishly to dwell
With Fear upon her desert isle,?To take my shadowgraph to Hell,
And then to hope the shades would smile.
And since the light must fail me soon
(But faster, faster, Western train!)?Proud meadows of the afternoon,
I have remembered you again.
And I'll go seek through moor and dale
A flower that wastrel winds caress;?The bud is red and the leaves pale,
The name of it Forgetfulness.
Then like the old and happy hills
With frozen veins and fires outrun,?I'll wait the day when darkness kills
My brother and good friend, the Sun.
FOUNTAINS
Soft is the collied night, and cool?The wind about the garden pool.?Here will I dip my burning hand?And move an inch of drowsy sand,?And pray the dark reflected skies?To fasten with their seal mine eyes.?A million million leagues away?Among the stars the goldfish play,?And high above the shadowed stars?Wave and float the nenuphars.
THE WELSH SEA
Far