Satires of Circumstance, Lyrics and Reveries, with Miscellaneous Pieces | Page 4

by years-long wryness born of misprision,
Dreaded, suspect.
Then there would breast me shining sights, sweet seasons
Further in date;
Instruments of strings with the tenderest passion
Vibrant, beside
Lamps long extinguished, robes, cheeks, eyes with
the earth's crust
Now corporate.
Also there rose a headland of hoary aspect
Gnawed by the tide,
Frilled by the nimb of the morning as two
friends stood there
Guilelessly glad -
Wherefore they knew not--touched by the fringe of
an ecstasy
Scantly descried.

Later images too did the day unfurl me,
Shadowed and sad,
Clay cadavers of those who had shared in the
dramas,
Laid now at ease,
Passions all spent, chiefest the one of the broad
brow
Sepulture-clad.
So did beset me scenes miscalled of the bygone,
Over the leaze,
Past the clump, and down to where lay the beheld
ones;
--Yea, as the rhyme
Sung by the sea-swell, so in their
pleading dumbness
Captured me these.
For, their lost revisiting manifestations
In their own time
Much had I slighted, caring not for their purport,
Seeing behind
Things more coveted, reckoned the better worth
calling
Sweet, sad, sublime.
Thus do they now show hourly before the intenser
Stare of the mind
As they were ghosts avenging their slights by my
bypast
Body-borne eyes,
Show, too, with fuller translation than rested upon
them
As living kind.
Hence wag the tongues of the passing people, saying

In their surmise,
"Ah--whose is this dull form that perambulates,
seeing nought
Round him that looms
Whithersoever his footsteps turn in his farings,
Save a few tombs?"
CHANNEL FIRING
That night your great guns, unawares,
Shook all our coffins as we lay,

And broke the chancel window-squares,
We thought it was the
Judgment-day
And sat upright. While drearisome
Arose the howl of wakened
hounds:
The mouse let fall the altar-crumb,
The worms drew back
into the mounds,
The glebe cow drooled. Till God called, "No;
It's gunnery practice
out at sea
Just as before you went below;
The world is as it used to
be:
"All nations striving strong to make
Red war yet redder. Mad as
hatters
They do no more for Christes sake
Than you who are
helpless in such matters.
"That this is not the judgment-hour
For some of them's a blessed
thing,
For if it were they'd have to scour
Hell's floor for so much
threatening . . .
"Ha, ha. It will be warmer when
I blow the trumpet (if indeed
I ever
do; for you are men,
And rest eternal sorely need)."
So down we lay again. "I wonder,
Will the world ever saner be,"

Said one, "than when He sent us under
In our indifferent century!"
And many a skeleton shook his head.
"Instead of preaching forty

year,"
My neighbour Parson Thirdly said,
"I wish I had stuck to
pipes and beer."
Again the guns disturbed the hour,
Roaring their readiness to avenge,

As far inland as Stourton Tower,
And Camelot, and starlit
Stonehenge.
April 1914.
THE CONVERGENCE OF THE TWAIN
(Lines on the loss of the "Titanic")
I
In a solitude of the sea
Deep from human vanity,
And the Pride of
Life that planned her, stilly couches she.
II
Steel chambers, late the pyres
Of her salamandrine fires,
Cold
currents thrid, and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.
III
Over the mirrors meant
To glass the opulent
The sea-worm
crawls--grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent.
IV
Jewels in joy designed
To ravish the sensuous mind
Lie lightless,
all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.
V
Dim moon-eyed fishes near
Gaze at the gilded gear
And query:
"What does this vaingloriousness down here?" . . .

VI
Well: while was fashioning
This creature of cleaving wing,
The
Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything
VII
Prepared a sinister mate
For her--so gaily great -
A Shape of Ice, for
the time far and dissociate.
VIII
And as the smart ship grew
In stature, grace, and hue,
In shadowy
silent distance grew the Iceberg too.
IX
Alien they seemed to be:
No mortal eye could see
The intimate
welding of their later history,
X
Or sign that they were bent
By paths coincident
On being anon twin
halves of one august event,
XI
Till the Spinner of the Years
Said "Now!" And each one hears,
And
consummation comes, and jars two hemispheres.
THE GHOST OF THE PAST
We two kept house, the Past and I,
The Past and I;
I tended while it hovered nigh,
Leaving me never alone.
It was a spectral housekeeping

Where fell no jarring tone,
As strange, as still a housekeeping
As ever has been known.
As daily I went up the stair
And down the stair,
I did not mind the Bygone there -
The Present once to me;
Its moving meek companionship
I wished might ever be,
There was in that companionship
Something of ecstasy.
It dwelt with me just as it was,
Just as it was
When first its prospects gave me pause
In wayward wanderings,
Before the years had torn old troths
As they tear all sweet things,
Before gaunt griefs had torn old troths
And dulled old rapturings.
And then its form began to fade,
Began to fade,
Its gentle echoes faintlier played
At eves upon my ear
Than when the autumn's look embrowned