Songs Of The Road | Page 8

the fruit
Where the high blossoms be;?And Lust to kill the weaker shoot,
And Drink to trim the tree.
5?And Holiness that so the bole
Be solid at the core;?And Plague and Fever, that the whole
Be changing evermore.
6?He strews the microbes in the lung,
The blood-clot in the brain;?With test and test He picks the best,
Then tests them once again.
7?He tests the body and the mind,
He rings them o'er and o'er;?And if they crack, He throws them back,
And fashions them once more.
8?He chokes the infant throat with slime,
He sets the ferment free;?He builds the tiny tube of lime
That blocks the artery.
9?He lets the youthful dreamer store
Great projects in his brain,?Until He drops the fungus spore
That smears them out again.
10?He stores the milk that feeds the babe,
He dulls the tortured nerve;?He gives a hundred joys of sense
Where few or none might serve.
11?And still He trains the branch of good
Where the high blossoms be,?And wieldeth still the shears of ill
To prune and prime His tree.
MAN'S LIMITATION
Man says that He is jealous,
Man says that He is wise,?Man says that He is watching
From His throne beyond the skies.
But perchance the arch above us
Is one great mirror's span,?And the Figure seen so dimly
Is a vast reflected man.
If it is love that gave us
A thousand blossoms bright,?Why should that love not save us
From poisoned aconite?
If this man blesses sunshine
Which sets his fields aglow,?Shall that man curse the tempest
That lays his harvest low?
If you may sing His praises
For health He gave to you,?What of this spine-curved cripple,
Shall he sing praises too?
If you may justly thank Him
For strength in mind and limb,?Then what of yonder weakling --
Must he give thanks to Him?
Ah dark, too dark, the riddle!
The tiny brain too small!?We call, and fondly listen,
For answer to that call.
There comes no word to tell us
Why this and that should be,?Why you should live with sorrow,
And joy should live with me.
MIND AND MATTER
Great was his soul and high his aim,?He viewed the world, and he could trace?A lofty plan to leave his name?Immortal 'mid the human race.?But as he planned, and as he worked,?The fungus spore within him lurked.
Though dark the present and the past,?The future seemed a sunlit thing.?Still ever deeper and more vast,?The changes that he hoped to bring.?His was the will to dare and do;?But still the stealthy fungus grew.
Alas the plans that came to nought!?Alas the soul that thrilled in vain!?The sunlit future that he sought?Was but a mirage of the brain.?Where now the wit? Where now the will??The fungus is the master still.
DARKNESS
A gentleman of wit and charm,
A kindly heart, a cleanly mind,?One who was quick with hand or purse,
To lift the burden of his kind.?A brain well balanced and mature,
A soul that shrank from all things?base,?So rode he forth that winter day,
Complete in every mortal grace.
And then -- the blunder of a horse,
The crash upon the frozen clods,?And -- Death? Ah! no such dignity,
But Life, all twisted and at odds!?At odds in body and in soul,
Degraded to some brutish state,?A being loathsome and malign,
Debased, obscene, degenerate.
Pathology? The case is clear,
The diagnosis is exact;?A bone depressed, a haemorrhage,
The pressure on a nervous tract.?Theology? Ah, there's the rub!
Since brain and soul together fade,?Then when the brain is dead -- enough!
Lord help us, for we need Thine aid!
III -- MISCELLANEOUS VERSES
A WOMAN'S LOVE
I am not blind -- I understand;
I see him loyal, good, and wise,?I feel decision in his hand,
I read his honour in his eyes.?Manliest among men is he
With every gift and grace to clothe?him;?He never loved a girl but me --
And I -- I loathe him! -- loathe him!
The other! Ah! I value him
Precisely at his proper rate,?A creature of caprice and whim,
Unstable, weak, importunate.?His thoughts are set on paltry gain --
You only tell me what I see --?I know him selfish, cold and vain;
But, oh! he's all the world to me!
BY THE NORTH SEA
Her cheek was wet with North Sea spray,
We walked where tide and shingle?meet;?The long waves rolled from far away
To purr in ripples at our feet.?And as we walked it seemed to me
That three old friends had met that?day,?The old, old sky, the old, old sea,
And love, which is as old as they.
Out seaward hung the brooding mist
We saw it rolling, fold on fold,?And marked the great Sun alchemist
Turn all its leaden edge to gold,?Look well, look well, oh lady mine,
The gray below, the gold above,?For so the grayest life may shine
All golden in the light of love.
The bloom is on the May once more,
The chestnut buds have burst anew;?But, darling, all our springs are o'er,
'Tis winter still for me and you.?We plucked Life's blossoms long ago?What's left is but December's snow.
But winter has its joys as fair,
The gentler joys, aloof, apart;?The snow may lie upon our hair
But never, darling, in our heart.?Sweet were the springs of long ago?But sweeter still December's snow.
Yes, long ago, and