The Miracle and Other Poems | Page 5

with the scarlet poppies in his hand.
His robes are dappled like the moonlit seas, His hair in waves of silver
floats afar; He weareth lotus-bloom and sweet heartsease, With tassels
of the rustling green fir trees, As down the dusk he steps from star to
star.
Above the world he swings his curfew bell, And sleep falls soft on
golden heads and white; The daisies curl their leaves beneath his spell,
The prisoner who wearies in his cell Forgets awhile, and dreams
throughout the night.
* * * * *
Even so, in peace, comes that great Lord of rest Who crowneth men
with amaranthine flowers; Who telleth them the truths they have but
guessed, Who giveth them the things they love the best, Beyond this
restless, rocking world of ours.

THE LONELY ROAD
We used to fear the lonely road That twisted round the hill; It dipped
down to the river-way, And passed the haunted mill, And then crept on,
until it reached The churchyard, green and still.
No pipers ever took that road, No gipsies, brown and gay; No
shepherds with their gentle flocks, No loads of scented hay; No
market-waggons jingled by On any Saturday.
The dog-wood there flung wide its stars, In April, silvery sweet; The
squirrels crossed that path all day On tiny flying feet; The wild, brown
rabbits knew each turn, Each shadowy safe retreat.
And there the golden-belted bee Sang his sweet summer song, The
crickets chirped there to the moon With steady note and strong; Till
cold and silence wrapped them round When autumn nights grew long.
But, oh! they brought the lonely dead Along that quiet way, With
strange procession, dark and slow, On sunny days and grey; We used to
watch them, wonder-eyed, Nor care again to play.
And we forgot each merry jest; The birds on bush and tree Silenced the
song within their throats And with us watched to see, The soft, slow
passing out of sight Of that dark mystery.
* * * * *
We fear no more the lonely road That winds around the hill; Far from
the busy world's highway And the gods' slow-grinding mill; It only
seems a peaceful path, Pleasant, and green, and still.

SEA-BORN
Afar in the turbulent city, In a hive where men make gold, He stood at
his loom from dawn to dark, While the passing years were told.
And when he knew it was summer-time By the grey dust on the street,
By the lingering hours of daylight, And the sultry noon-tide heat--
Oh! he longed as a captive sea-bird To leave his cage and be free, For
his heart like a shell kept singing The old, old song of the sea.
And amid the noise and confusion Of wheels that were never still, He
heard the wind through the scented pines On a rough, storm-beaten hill;
While, beyond a maze of painted threads, Where his tireless shuttle
flew, In fancy he saw the sunlit waves Beckon him out to the blue.

THE ANGEL
Down the white ward with slow, unswerving tread He came ere break
of day-- A cowl was drawn about his down-bent head, His misty robes
were grey.
And no man even knew that he went by, None saw or heard him pass;
Softly he moved as clouds drift down the sky, Or shadows cross the
grass.
Close to a little bed where one lay low, At last he took his stand, And
touched the head that tossed in restless woe With gentle, outstretched
hand.
"When bitterness," he said, "is at an end, And joy grows far and dim, I
am the angel whom the Lord doth send To lead men on to Him.
"Past the innumerable stars, my friend, Past all the winds that blow, We,
too, must travel to our journey's end. Arise! And let us go!"
"Stay! Stay!" the other cried. "I know thy face! Death is thy dreaded
name!" "Nay--I am known as 'Love' in that far place," He said, "from
whence I came."
But still the other cried, with moan and tear, "I fear the dark--and thee!"
"There is no dark," the angel said, "nor fear, For those who go with me.
"There is no loneliness, and nevermore The shadow-haunted night,
When we pass out beyond Life's swinging door The road," he said, "is
bright."
Then backward slipped the cowl from off his head, Downward the robe
of grey; A radiant presence by the lowly bed Greeted the breaking day.
* * * * *
Within the long white ward one lay alone, None watched by him
awhile, But some who passed him said, in whispered tone, "See--on his
lips--the smile!"

WHEN CHRISTMAS COMES
For thee, my small one--trinkets and new toys, The wine of life and all
its