Forty-Two Poems | Page 7

there;
And leave behind my back no wisp at all
For eager folk to clutch,
what time I glide
So near, and turn, and pass beyond recall."
"Tell me; who is that Figure at thy side?"
"Penitence. Mark this well
that by decree
Who lets me go must keep her for his bride.
And thou hast spent much time in talk with me
Busied with thoughts
and fancies vainly grand,
Nor hast remarked, O fool, neither dost see

How lightly I have fled beneath thy hand."
DESTROYER OF SHIPS, MEN, CITIES
Helen of Troy has sprung from Hell
To claim her ancient throne,
So we have bidden friends farewell
To follow her alone.
The Lady of the laurelled brow,
The Queen of pride and power,
Looks rather like a phantom now,
And rather like a flower.
Deep in her eyes the lamp of night
Burns with a secret flame,
Where shadows pass that have no sight,
And ghosts that have no name.
For mute is battle's brazen horn

That rang for Priest and King,
And she who drank of that brave morn
Is pale with evening.
An hour there is when bright words flow,
A little hour for sleep,
An hour between, when lights are low,
And then she seems to weep,
But no less lovely than of old
She shines, and almost hears
The horns that blew in days of gold,
The shouting charioteers.
And still she breaks the hearts of men,
Their hearts and 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