The Singing Man | Page 6

any stronger thing!?And smiles, for one triumphal Gift,?Should one lean down, and lift!?And tendril hair;--O in such wise,?With wild lights aureoled,?The morning-glories twine and hold,?In some far paradise!_
_Oh well and deep, the foul ways keep
Lost treasure hid from day!--?Sun may not see: but only we,
Who look; and look away._
THE GOLDEN SHOES
The winds are lashing on the sea;?The roads are blind with storm.?And it's far and far away with me;?So bide you there, stay warm.?It's forth I must, and forth to-day;?And I have no path to choose.?The highway hill, it is my way still.--?Give me my golden shoes.
_God gave them me on that first day?I knew that I was young.?And I looked far forth, from west to north;?And I heard the Songs unsung._
This cloak is worn too threadbare thin,?But ah, how weatherwise!?This girdle serves to bind it in;?What heed of wondering eyes?--?And yet beside, I wear one pride?--Too bright, think you, to use?--?That I must wear, and still keep fair.--?Give here my golden shoes.
_God gave them me, on that first day?I heard the Stars all chime.?And I looked forth far, from road to star;?And I knew it was far to climb._
They would buy me house and hearth, no doubt,?And the mirth to spend and share;?Could I sell that gift, and go without,?Or wear--what neighbors wear.?But take my staff, my purse, my scrip;?For I have one thing to choose.?For you,--Godspeed! May you soothe your need.?For me, my golden shoes!
_He gave them me, that far, first day?When I heard all Songs unsung.?And I looked far forth, from west to north.?God saw that I was young!_
NOON AT P?STUM
Lord of the Sea, we sun-filled creatures raise?Our hands among the clamorous weeds,--we too.?Lord of the Sun, and of the upper blue,?Of all To-morrow, and all yesterdays,?Here, where the thousand broken names and ways?Of worship are but shards we wandered through,?There is no gift to offer, or undo;?There is no prayer left in us, only praise.
Only to glory in this glory here,?Through the dead smoke of myriad sacrifice;--?To look through these blue spaces, blind and clear?Even as the seaward gaze of Homer's eyes;?And from uplifted heart, and cup, to pour?Wine to the Unknown God.--We ask no more.
VESTAL FLAME
Light, light,--the last:?Till the night be done,?Keep the watch for stars and sun, and eyelids over-cast.
Once there seemed a sky,?Brooding over men.?Now no stars have come again, since their bright good-bye!
Once my dreams were wise.?Now I nothing know;?Fasting and the dark have so put out my heart's eyes.
But thy golden breath?Burns against my cheek.?I can feel and love, and seek all the rune it saith.
Do not thou be spent,?Holy thing of fire,--?Only hope of heart's desire dulled with wonderment!
While there bide these two?Hands to bar the wind;?Though such fingers chill and thinned, shed no roses through.
While this body bends?Only for thy guard;?Like a tower, to ward and worship all the light it sends.
It is not for fear?Lest there ring some cry?On the midnight, 'Rise and come. Lo, the Bridegroom near!'
It is not for pride,?To be shining fair?In a wedding-garment there, lighting home the Bride.
It is not to win?Love, for hoarded toil,?From those poor, with their spent oil, weeping, 'Light us in!'--
No; but in despite?Of all vigils set,?Do I bind me to thee yet,--strangest thing of Light!
Only, all, for thee?Whatsoe'er thou art,?Smiling through the blinded heart, things it cannot see.
Very Soul's Desire,?Take my life; and live?By the rapture thine doth give, ecstasy of fire!
Hold thy golden breath!?For I feel,--not hear--?Spent with joy and fear to lose thee, all the song it saith.
Light, light, my own:?Do not thou disown?Thy poor keeper-of-the-light, for Light's sake alone.
_The dark had left no speech save hand-in-hand?Between us two the while, with others near.?Mine questioned thine with 'Why should I be here?'?'Yet bide thou here,' said thine, 'and understand.'_
_And mine was mute; but strove not then to go;?And hid itself, and murmured, 'Do not hear?The listening in my heart!' Said thine, 'My Dear,?I will not hear it, ever. But I know.'_
_Said mine to thine: 'Let be. Now will I go!--?For you are saying,--you who do not speak,?This hand-in-hand is one day cheek-to-cheek!'?And said thy hand around me, 'Even so.'_
_Then mine to thine.--'Yea, I have been alone;?--Yet happy.--This is strange. This is not I!?You hold me, but you can not tell me why.'?And said thy hand to mine again, 'My Own.'_
THE PROPHET
All day long he kept the sheep:--?Far and early, from the crowd,?On the hills from steep to steep,?Where the silence cried aloud;?And the shadow of the cloud?Wrapt him in a noonday sleep.
Where he dipped the water's cool,?Filling boyish hands from thence,?Something breathed across the pool?Stir of sweet enlightenments;?And he drank, with thirsty sense,?Till his heart was brimmed and full.
Still, the hovering Voice unshed,?And the Vision unbeheld,?And the mute sky overhead,?And his longing, still withheld!?--Even when the two tears welled,?Salt, upon that lonely bread.
Vaguely blessèd in the leaves,?Dim-companioned