Loneliness

Now it is Loneliness who comes at night
Instead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed.
Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread,
I watch her softly blowing out the light.
Motionless sitting, neither left nor right
She turns, and weary, weary droops her head.
She, too, is old; she, too, has fought the fight.
So, with the laurel she is garlanded.

Through the sad dark the slowly ebbing tide
Breaks on a barren shore, unsatisfied.
A strange wind flows … then silence. I am fain
To turn to Loneliness, to take her hand,
Cling to her, waiting, till the barren land
Fills with the dreadful monotone of rain.

1911.

The Meeting

We started speaking,
Looked at each other, then turned away.
The tears kept rising to my eyes
But I could not weep.
I wanted to take your hand
But my hand trembled.
You kept counting the days
Before we should meet again.
But both of us felt in our hearts
That we parted for ever and ever.
The ticking of the little clock filled the quiet room.
“Listen,” I said. “It is so loud,
Like a horse galloping on a lonely road,
As loud as that-a horse galloping past in the night.”
You shut me up in your arms.
But the sound of the clock stifled our hearts' beating.
You said, “I cannot go : all that is living of me
Is here for ever and ever.”
Then you went.
The world changed. The sound of the clock grew fainter,
Dwindled away, became a minute thing.
I whispered in the darkness, “If it stops, I shall die.”

1911.

The Gulf

A gulf of silence separates us from each other.
I stand at one side of the gulf, you at the other.
I cannot see you or hear you, yet know that you are there.
Often I call you by your childish name
And pretend that the echo to my crying is your voice.
How can we bridge the gulf ? Never by speech or touch.
Once I thought we might fill it quite up with tears.
Now I want to shatter it with our laughter.

1911.

The Storm

I ran to the forest for shelter,
Breathless, half sobbing;
I put my arms round a tree,
Pillowed my head against the rough bark.
“Protect me,” I said. “I am a lost child.”
But the tree showered silver drops on my face and hair.
A wind sprang up from the ends of the earth;
It lashed the forest together.
A huge green wave thundered and burst over my head.
I prayed, implored, “Please take care of me !”
But the wind pulled at my cloak and the rain beat upon me.
Little rivers tore up the ground and swamped the bushes.
A frenzy possessed the earth : I felt that the earth was drowning
In a bubbling cavern of space. I alone—
Smaller than the smallest fly—was alive and terrified.
Then, for what reason I know not, I became triumphant.
“Well, kill me !” I cried and ran out into the open.
page 23 But the storm ceased : the sun spread his wings
And floated serene in the silver pool of the sky.
I put my hands over my face : I was blushing.
And the trees swung together and delicately laughed.

1911.

Across the Red Sky

Across the red sky two birds flying,
Flying with drooping wings.
Silent and solitary their ominous flight.
All day the triumphant sun with yellow banners
Warred and warred with the earth, and when she yielded
Stabbed her heart, gathered her blood in a chalice,
Spilling it over the evening sky.
When the dark plumaged birds go flying, flying,
Quiet lies the earth wrapt in her mournful shadow,
Her sightless eyes turned to the read sky
And the restlessly seeking birds.

1911.

Very Early Spring

The fields are snowbound no longer;
There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green.
The snow has been caught up into the sky-
So many white clouds-and the blue of the sky is cold.
Now the sun walks in the forest,
He touches the boughs and stems with his golden fingers;
They shiver, and wake from slumber.
Over the barren branches he shakes his yellow curls.
… Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears. …
A wind dances over the fields.
Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter,
Yet the little blue lakes tremble
And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver.

1911.

The Awakening River

The gulls are mad-in-love with the river,
And the river unveils her face and smiles.
In her sleep-brooding eyes they mirror their shining wings.
She lies on silver pillows : the sun leans over her.
He warms and warms her, he kisses and kisses her.
There are sparks in her hair and she stirs in laughter.
Be careful, my beautiful waking one ! you will catch on fire.
Wheeling and flying with the foam of the sea on their breasts,
The ineffable mists of the sea clinging to their wild wings,
Crying the rapture of the boundless ocean,
The gulls are mad-in-love with the river.
Wake ! we are the dream thoughts flying from your heart.
Wake ! we are the songs of desire flowing from your bosom.
O, I think the sun will lend her his great wings
And the river will fly away to the sea with the mad-in-love birds.

1911.

The Sea Child

Into the world you sent her, mother,
Fashioned her body of coral and foam,
Combed a wave in her hair's warm smother,
And drove her away from home.

In the dark of the night she crept to the town
And under a doorway she laid her down,
The little blue child in the foam-fringed gown.

And never a sister and never a brother
To hear her call, to answer her cry.
Her face shone out from her hair's warm smother
Like a moonkin up in the sky.

She sold her corals; she sold her foam;
Her rainbow heart like a singing shell
Broke in her body : she crept back home.

Peace, go back to the world, my daughter,
Daughter, go back to the darkling land;
There is nothing here but sad sea water,
And a handful of sifting sand.

1911.

The Earth-Child in the Grass

In the very early morning
Long before Dawn time
I lay down in the paddock
And listened to the cold song of the grass.
Between my fingers the green blades,
And the green blades pressed against my body.
“Who is she leaning so heavily upon me ?”
Sang the grass.
“Why does she weep on my bosom,
Mingling her tears with the tears of my mystic lover ?
Foolish little earth child !
It is not yet time.
One day I shall open my bosom
And you shall slip in-but not weeping.
Then in the early morning
Long before Dawn time
Your lover will lie in the paddock.
Between his fingers the green blades
And the green blades pressed against his body …
My song shall not sound cold to him
In my deep wave he will find the wave of your hair
page 29 In my strong sweet perfume, the perfume of your kisses.
Long and long he will lie there …
Laughing-not weeping.”

1911.

To God the Father

To the little, pitiful God I make my prayer,
The God with the long grey beard
And flowing robe fastened with a hempen girdle
Who sits nodding and muttering on the all-too-big throne of Heaven.
What a long, long time, dear God, since you set the stars in their places,
Girded the earth with the sea, and invented the day and night.
And longer the time since you looked through the blue window of Heaven
To see your children at play in a garden. …
Now we are all stronger than you and wiser and more arrogant,
In swift procession we pass you by.
“Who is that marionette nodding and muttering
On the all-too-big throne of Heaven ?
Come down from your place, Grey Beard,
We have had enough of your play-acting !”
It is centuries since I believed in you,
But to-day my need of you has come back.
I want no rose-coloured future,
No books of learning, no protestations and denials-
page 31 I am sick of this ugly scramble,
I am tired of being pulled about-
O God, I want to sit on your knees
On the all-too-big throne of Heaven,
And fall asleep with my hands tangled in your grey beard.

1911.

The Opal Dream Cave

In an opal dream cave I found a fairy :
Her wings were frailer than flower petals,
Frailer far than snowflakes.
She was not frightened, but poised on my finger,
Then delicately walked into my hand.
I shut the two palms of my hands together
And held her prisoner.
I carried her out of the opal cave,
Then opened my hands.
First she became thistledown,
Then a mote in a sunbeam,
Then-nothing at all.
Empty now is my opal dream cave.

1911.

Sea

The sea called—I lay on the rocks and said :
“I am come.”
She mocked and showed her teeth,
Stretching out her long green arms.
“Go away !” she thundered.
“Then tell me what I am to do,” I begged.
“If I leave you, you will not be silent,
But cry my name in the cities
And wistfully entreat me in the plains and forests;
All else I forsake to come to you—what must I do ?”
“Never have I uttered your name,” snarled the Sea.
“There is no more of me in your body
Than the little salt tears you are frightened of shedding.
What can you know of my love on your brown rock pillow ? …
Come closer.”

1911.

Jangling Memory

Heavens above ! here's an old tie of yours—
Sea-green dragons stamped on a golden ground.
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! What children we were in those days !

Do you love me enough to wear it now ?
Have you the courage of your pristine glories ?
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! You laugh and shrug your shoulders.

Those were the days when a new tie spelt a fortune :
We wore it in turn—I flaunted it as a waist-belt.
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! What easily satisfied babies !

“I think I'll turn it into a piano duster.”
“Give it to me, I'll polish my slippers on it !”
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! The rag's not worth the dustbin.

“Throw the shabby old thing right out of the window;
Fling it into the faces of other children !”
Ha ! Ha ! Ha ! We laughed and laughed till the tears came !

1911.

There was a Child Once

There was a child once.
He came to play in my garden;
He was quite pale and silent.
Only when he smiled I knew everything about him,
I knew what he had in his pockets,
And I knew the feel of his hands in my hands
And the most intimate tones of his voice.
I led him down each secret path,
Showing him the hiding-place of all my treasures.
I let him play with them, every one,
I put my singing thoughts in a little silver cage
And gave them to him to keep …
It was very dark in the garden
But never dark enough for us. On tiptoe we walked among the deepest shades;
We bathed in the shadow pools beneath the trees,
Pretending we were under the sea.
Once-near the boundary of the garden-
We heard steps passing along the World-road;
Oh, how frightened we were !
page 36 I whispered : “Have you ever walked along that road ?”
He nodded, and we shook the tears from our eyes. …
There was a child once.
He came-quite alone-to play in my garden;
He was pale and silent.
When we met we kissed each other,
But when he went away, we did not even wave.

1912.

The Secret

In the profoundest ocean
There is a rainbow shell,
It is always there, shining most stilly
Under the greatest storm waves
And under the happy little waves
That the old Greek called “ripples of laughter.”
And you listen, the rainbow shell
Sings-in the profoundest ocean.
It is always there, singing most silently !

1912.

Sea Song

I will think no more of the sea !
Of the big green waves
And the hollowed shore,
Of the brown rock caves
No more, no more
Of the swell and the weed
And the bubbling foam.

Memory dwells in my far away home,
She has nothing to do with me.

She is old and bent
With a pack
On her back.
Her tears all spent,
Her voice, just a crack.
With an old thorn stick
She hobbles along,
And a crazy song
Now slow, now quick
Wheeks in her throat.

And every day
While there's light on the shore
She searches for something,
Her withered claw
Tumbles the seaweed;
page 39 She pokes in each shell
Groping and mumbling
Until the night
Deepens and darkens,
And covers her quite,
And bids her be silent,
And bids her be still.

The ghostly feet
Of the whispery waves
Tiptoe beside her.
They follow, follow
To the rocky caves
In the white beach hollow …
She hugs her hands,
She sobs, she shrills,
And the echoes shriek
In the rocky hills.
She moans : “It is lost!
Let it be! Let it be !
I am old. I'm too cold.
I am frightened … the sea
Is too loud … it is lost,
It is gone …” Memory
Wails in my far away home.

1913.

Countrywomen

These be two
Country women.
What a size !
Grand big arms
And round red faces;
Big substantial
Sit down places;
Great big bosoms firm as cheese
Bursting through their country jackets;
Wide big laps
And sturdy knees;
Hands outspread,
Round and rosy,
Hands to hold
A country posy
Or a baby or a lamb—
And such eyes !
Stupid, shifty, small and sly
Peeping through a slit of sty,
Squinting through their neighbours' plackets.

1914.

Stars

Most merciful God
Look kindly upon
An impudent child
Who wants sitting on.
This evening late
I went to the door
And then to the gate
There were more stars—more
Than I could have expected,
Even I !
I was simply amazed
Almighty, August!
I was utterly dazed,
Omnipotent, Just!
In a word I was floored,
Good God of Hosts—Lord !
That at this time of day
They should still blaze away,
That Thou hadst not rejected
Or at least circumspected
Their white silver beauty—
Was it spite. ? Was it duty. ?

1914.

Deaf House Agent

That deaf old man
With his hand to his ear—
His hand to his head stood out like a shell,
Horny and hollow. He said, “I can't hear.”
He muttered, “Don't shout,
I can hear very well!”
He mumbled, “I can't catch a word;
I can't follow.”
Then Jack with a voice like a Protestant bell
Roared—” Particulars ! Farmhouse! At ten quid a year !”
“I dunno wot place you are talking about,”
Said the deaf old man.
Said Jack, “What the Hell!”
But the deaf old man took a pin from his desk, picked a piece of wool the size of a hen's egg from his ear, had a good look at it, decided in its favour and replaced it in the aforementioned organ.

1914.