The New Morning | Page 5

wrath paled or that sunset died,?Looked through the ages: then, with eyes aglow,?Laid them, to wait that future, side by side._
II.
Now lamp-lit gardens in the blue dusk shine?Through dog-wood red and white,?And round the gray quadrangles, line by line,?The windows fill with light,?Where Princeton calls to Magdalen, tower to tower,?Twin lanthorns of the law,?And those cream-white magnolia boughs embower?The halls of old Nassau.
III.
The dark bronze tigers crouch on either side?Where red-coats used to pass,?And round the bird-loved house where Mercer died?And violets dusk the grass,?By Stony Brook that ran so red of old,?But sings of friendship now,?To feed the old enemy's harvest fifty-fold?The green earth takes the plough.
IV.
Through this May night if one great ghost should stray?With deep remembering eyes,?Where that old meadow of battle smiles away?Its blood-stained memories,?If Washington should walk, where friend and foe?Sleep and forget the past,?Be sure his unquenched heart would leap to know?Their hosts are joined at last.
V.
Be sure he walks, in shadowy buff and blue,?Where those dim lilacs wave,?He bends his head to bless, as dreams come true,?The promise of that grave,?Then with a vaster hope than thought can scan,?Touching his ancient sword,?Prays for that mightier realm of God in man,?"Hasten Thy Kingdom, Lord."
VI.
"Land of new hope, land of the singing stars,?Type of the world to be,?The vision of a world set free from wars?Takes life, takes form, from thee,?Where all the jarring nations of this earth,?Beneath the all-blessing sun,?Bring the new music of mankind to birth,?And make the whole world one."
VII.
And those old comrades rise around him there,?Old foemen, side by side,?With eyes like stars upon the brave night-air,?And young as when they died,?To hear your bells, O beautiful Princeton towers,?Ring for the world's release.?They see you, piercing like gray swords through flowers,?And smile from hearts at peace.
BEETHOVEN IN CENTRAL PARK
(After a glimpse of a certain monument in New York, during the Victory Celebration)
The thousand-windowed towers were all alight.?Throngs of all nations filled that glittering way;?And, rich with dreams of the approaching day,?Flags of all nations trampled down the night.?No clouds, at sunset, die in airs as bright.?No clouds, at dawn, awake in winds as gay;?For Freedom rose in that august array,?Crowned with the stars and weaponed for the right.
Then, in a place of whispering leaves and gloom,?I saw, too dark, too dumb for bronze or stone,?One tragic head that bowed against the sky;?O, in a hush too deep for any tomb?I saw Beethoven, dreadfully alone?With his own grief, and his own majesty.
SONGS OF THE TRAWLERS AND SEA POEMS
THE PEOPLE'S FLEET
Out of her darkened fishing-ports they go,?A fleet of little ships, whose every name--?_Daffodil_, _Sea-lark_, _Rose_ and _Surf_ and _Snow_,?Burns in this blackness like an altar-flame;
Out of her past they sail, three thousand strong,?The people's fleet that never knew its worth,?And every name is a broken phrase of song?To some remembered loveliness on earth.
There's _Barbara Cowie_, _Comely Bank_ and _May_,?Christened, at home, in worlds of dawn and dew:?There's _Ruth_ and _Kindly Light_ and _Robin Gray_?With _Mizpah_. (May that simple prayer come true!)
Out of old England's inmost heart they sail,?A fleet of memories that can never fail.
KILMENY
Dark, dark lay the drifters against the red West,?As they shot their long meshes of steel overside;?And the oily green waters were rocking to rest?When Kilmeny went out, at the turn of the tide;?And nobody knew where that lassie would roam,?For the magic that called her was tapping unseen.?It was well-nigh a week ere Kilmeny came home,?And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
She'd a gun at her bow that was Newcastle's best,?And a gun at her stern that was fresh from the Clyde,?And a secret her skipper had never confessed,?Not even at dawn, to his newly-wed bride;?And a wireless that whispered above, like a gnome,?The laughter of London, the boasts of Berlin....?O, it may have been mermaids that lured her from home;?But nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
It was dark when Kilmeny came home from her quest?With her bridge dabbled red where her skipper had died;?But she moved like a bride with a rose at her breast,?And _Well done Kilmeny!_ the Admiral cried.
Now, at sixty-four fathom a conger may come?And nose at the bones of a drowned submarine;?But--late in the evening Kilmeny came home,?And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
There's a wandering shadow that stares at the foam,?Though they sing all the night to old England, their queen. Late, late in the evening, Kilmeny came home;?And nobody knew where Kilmeny had been.
CAP'N STORM-ALONG
They are buffeting out in the bitter grey weather,?_Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!_?_Sea-lark_ singing to _Golden Feather_,?And burly blue waters all swelling aroun'.?There's _Thunderstone_ butting ahead as they wallow,?With death in the mesh of their deep-sea trawl;?There's _Night-Hawk_ swooping by wild _Sea-swallow_;?And old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.
_Bashing the seas to a welter of white,?Look at the fleet that he leads to