Preludes 1921-1922 | Page 4

shadow whispering at my side had gone?And stood there bodied in you, David, brother,?O dear young shepherd from your sheepfolds called--?Nay Jonathan myself it was there standing,?Or barren branches of myself in flower,?My jailored thought flooded with light of song.?And in that moment nothing was between?Your soul and mine, and knowing you, I loved,?Since love is understanding, and must come?When mind looks on the presence of very mind.?I loved you, David, and I love, and ever--?Because my mind, even in one day's passing,?Has learnt you as no years could better learn--?My love is fixed upon you. And, moreover,?Since from this hour I must for ever know?Some element of me lodged sole in you,?Some certainty in you alone to be?Among my weeds the patient husbandman,?I must in your love prosper or not at all.?Now therefore, David, let a covenant be?Between us from this day, for the heart knows."
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David and Jonathan under the long torches?Were silent then. And David's eyes were fixed?Long upon Jonathan, as eyes may sometimes look?On eyes, and see no face, looking beyond?Into unimaged life, into the brain?Moving behind the circumstance of flesh,?Eyes that to-morrow passing might hardly know?The mere face that to-night they gaze upon.?And Jonathan having spoken, waited there?While David searched him slowly with still eyes.?Then David rose, and drew the tent-fold back,?And looked upon the stars of Palestine?Long, and a mallow moon; and Jonathan waited.?Then David came again, and spoke, "I too,?Standing this morning in your father's tent,?Knew that a life unwonted was near me there.?And now you have spoken, and the love you say,?I know, and as your will is so is mine.?Something I am for you that none can be.?Let it be so, but all is not then said.?This morning when I smote the Philistine,?I was God's purpose, that I must believe.?But purpose only is not all of God,?Hearing you now, I know it is not all.?When first I saw you I did not know it then--?Only, facing the Philistine, something new?A moment marked me, and unnoted went,?No touch of it upon my will. But now?I have heard you speak, and what it was I know.?You loved me, Jonathan, seeing, as I stood,?That shadowy self of you of which you tell me?Suddenly living fearless in the sun.?That is your reaping of my field, and I?Glory to give it you. But were that all,?Proud to be loved, I should not love again.?But now I know for me is too a reaping.?Your shadow to my living purpose leaps,?And that is wonderful. But as you spoke?Some David hidden from the man that slew?Goliath listened also, and is now?With us for ever. And he that wrought this life?Is you, Jonathan of doubts and speculation,?The man who sits there plainly now, the mere?Jonathan when the shadow is forgotten.?Now do I know my purpose magnified,?Sure as of old, but learning in its flight,?Of pity and the sad heart of man from you,?And how the jealous and unmerciful,?Being stricken down, are but poor sorrows too.?So, Jonathan my brother, as you take,?So do you give, and in us now shall be?The perfect whole of purpose and compassion,?And resolution without pride of heart.?Now therefore will I make the covenant,?Knowing that never more can you or I?Without this love be better than a tale?Of corrupting seed and fallow-lands unsown."
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Now Jonathan rose and put the torches out,?And a grey beam of dawn was on those two.?And Jonathan took his outer garment off,?Which was the king's son's, and robed David there,?And he took the sword that Saul had given him,?Belted in gold and cased in figured steel,?And it hung on David's loins. And Jonathan said,?"Who fails in this, that is the last betrayal,?The quenching of the holy spirit of God."?And David said, "So be it." And they embraced,?And kissed. And David went into the dawn.?And Jonathan watched until the day was full.
THE MAID OF NAAMAN'S WIFE
That was the proud woman, Naaman's wife.?Basking at noon under the Syrian fans,?While Naaman, the leprous mighty captain,?Proud glowing flesh now silver-skinned and tainted,?Walked in contagion here and there, apart.?His wife, the unblemished Naaman in her mind,?The man who, coming with the spoils and shouts,?Had made a hundred triumphs hers, when all?The Syrian women courted her for that,?Now saw in the pestilent limbs shame and reproach,?Some treachery that made her, who was mate?Of Syria's pride, bondwoman of a leper.?She must nurse her blame, since he was Naaman still,?With an old honour paid by stedfastness,?The mark of Syria's compassion. Black?Thoughts were her only payment for betrayal,?But in secret she could play them without pity,--?Let the fans beat, they could not beguile her from that.
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And Naaman had loved her, but not now,?Knowing the uses that his love had been,?How given for her to squander it in pride.
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Syria out of Israel had brought?Captives, and among them one, a maid,?A little maid, just troubled with