MISCELLANEOUS

It was not always thus I loved, Once, long ago, another love was mine, A love that through the constellations moved On fiery way divine— It was not always thus I loved. But can a bird for ever fly? Too rare, too lofty, is the sky, The poor bird folds his tired wings, And in the tree-top sings, And tries To forget the skies. It was not always thus I dreamed, Once, long ago, I walked in Paradise, And through the coolness of the garden gleamed An angel’s beckoning eyes— It was not always thus I dreamed. But can the sun be ever bright? He faints before the sword of night, And back into the house we hie, And with a candle try, When day’s done, To forget the sun. I went into the sunset, and I heard Among the trees the faint note of a bird.

One star upon the desert of the sky, One song upon the silences of night, Upon the tossing of the stream, one light, One moment in a blank eternity. For, O my love, eternity is drear, And soon we both shall weary of it so, That we shall turn and hide ourselves for fear In that sweet hour God gave us long ago. We cannot wander from it very far, For down the long wild ways, it calls us home, Red through the evening like a fallen star, A dim undying hearth for loves that roam. I feel were I to meet you I might not Even know you in the street, nor you know me— You might look back and whisper, ‘Who is she?’ And I might sigh at something half forgot. But in our Moment I can kiss your face, Smiling and strong—unchanged by all the years; And I can hold you there a little space, And you hold me—unchanged by all my tears. And I can whisper to you of that night When our dark boat made moon-swept waters hiss. Your face was wet with spray, spray-wet your kiss, Your eyes were stars that I had set alight. Dim planets hung above the trembling trees, The suck of water shook the misty air, The darkness showed you magic in my hair, The darkness showed you rest upon my knees. We saw two wandering stars fall through the sky— ’Twas you and I, lost in the chilly haze, Apart, adrift, forsaken, but ablaze With one short hour’s eternal ecstacy. And into our poor love of rags and tears The fire of life and deathless love rushed down, Rushed the great love of this world’s million years, Gave us the kingdom, set on us the crown— Gave us all love of lovers since the morn Of love in the dim daybreak of the earth, Gave us all harmonies since music’s birth, Gave us all colours since the first red dawn— Gave us the Springtime with its changing tunes, Gave us the mysteries of many Junes, Gave us the stars, gave us the trackless sea, Gave us each other to eternity. Love may be gone, as you are gone, my dear, But our almighty moment cannot die— It shall stand fast when the last crumbling sphere Shall crash out of the ruin of the sky. When the last constellations faint and fall, When the last planets burst in fiery foam, When all the winds have sunk asleep, when all The worn way-weary comets have come home— When past and present and the future flee, My moment lives! and I shall hold you there. It lives to be my immortality, An immortality which you shall share. One star upon the desert of the sky, One song upon the silences of night, Upon the tossing of the stream, one light, One moment in a blank eternity.

The earth is green, the earth is wide, And when its widest bound is past, There are the stars on every side, For soaring souls to win at last— There is no bound for those that fly, Floorless and roofless is the sky, Hope knows no hindrance but clipped wings, So, throughout all life’s little while, My heart is happy, and I smile, In spite of many things, In spite of pain, In spite of fears, In spite of want, In spite of tears —In spite of you. Mine is the future, and the past, The growing and the dying gleam, Mine is ambition till the last, And there are dreams for me to dream. Mine is the sagging Winter day, Mine too the softness of the May, The lusty strength of bread and wine, The valiant dawn, the pondering night, The flowering change from dark to light, All holy things are mine, In spite of pain, In spite of fears, In spite of want, In spite of tears —In spite of you. Adventure weaves the shining dress Experience at last shall wear, Grief, rapture, triumph, bitterness Combine to trace the pattern there. All sorrow that my soul assails Helps to embroider golden veils To deck me in the glorious day When I shall reign in endless rest, So strength and laughter fill my breast, And on my heartstrings play, In spite of pain, In spite of fears, In spite of want, In spite of tears —In spite of you.

By the grave I watch and weep, Watch and weep in anxious pain, Watch my Love’s exhausted sleep, Weep lest he should wake again— With heart and mind and soul I dread The resurrection of the dead. Is it a hard law of Thine That no third day’s dawn shall break Without bringing life divine To the dead? O for the sake Of all Thy thorns and lilies won, Let my weary one sleep on! Rough was life for my poor love, Fierce the whirlwind, wild the wave, It was mercy from above That he found this quiet grave, And there laid him down to rest, In the earth’s consoling breast. He is desperate for sleep. He would never choose to wake, And I watch by him and weep, Trembling lest the light should break In the merciful dark skies, And torment his heavy eyes. Though I know that Christ the Lord On the third day rose again, And I fear it is His word That the crucified should reign, Yet to Him I humbly pray That my love shall sleep for aye. For he never was a king, Never sat upon a throne, He was just a trodden thing, Stumbling in the dark alone. Let him rest—Eternal bliss?— He is far too tired for this. Life is for the gods and great, Resurrection for the strong, Joy for those of high estate, Slaves would rather slumber long. Let no angel from above Wake the sleeping slave—my love. By the grave I watch and weep, Watch and weep in anxious pain, Watch my love’s exhausted sleep, Weep lest he should wake again— With heart and mind and soul I dread The resurrection of the dead.

Lord, let me die on my feet—upright and boldly facing My last sad great adventure and experience’s crown, Let my eyes be all undimmed as they look into the darkness, Let me hail death as a conqueror before he strikes me down. Let me die with my head up, sword drawn, my shield flung from me, Stout to the end, yet proud to win my discharge at last, With worshipping clear gaze let me run to meet the future, And with forgiving laughter make my farewells to the past. Let me not die in my bed, in weariness and weakness, While outside, undesired, unheard, all valiant nature calls, Save me from tumbled sheets, drawn blinds, and muffled footsteps, From staring eyes to pity me when the last anguish falls. Lord let me die in my boots, I care not where death meets me, But let me die upright and armed, with free unclouded mind, Let me relish in their fullness the last moments life shall give me, Then plunge on without vain regrets for vain things left behind. Let me meet death on the waters, in the din of the waves’ roaring, In the shattering of the thunder, when the splitting timbers break, Let me meet him on the mountains, on the shrieking snow-storm riding, I care not where he finds me, if he find me but awake. I care not how I meet him, if I meet him as a warrior, Not as a slave the master he has given cause to frown. I will challenge him to combat, and when he sees me fearless, He will hail me as a conqueror before he strikes me down.