Archives: Poems

1 
When the darkened Fifties dip to the North,
  And frost and the fog divide the air,
And the day is dead at his breaking-forth,
  Sirs, it is bitter beneath the Bear! 
2 
Far to Southward they wheel and glance,
  The million molten spears of morn—
The spears of our deliverance
  That shine on the house where we were born. 
3 
Flying-fish about our bows,
  Flying sea-fires in our wake:
This is the road to our Father’s House,
  Whither we go for our souls’ sake! 
4 
We have forfeited our birthright,
  We have forsaken. all things meet;
We have forgotten the look of light,
  We have forgotten the scent of heat. 
5 
They that walk with shaded brows,
  Year by year in a shining land,
They be men of our Father’s House,
  They shall receive us and understand. 
6 
We shall go back by the boltless doors,
  To the life unaltered our childhood knew—
To the naked feet on the cool, dark floors,
  And the high-ceiled rooms that the Trade blows through: 
7 
To the trumpet-flowers and the moon beyond,
  And the tree-toad’s chorus drowning all—
And the lisp of the split banana-frond
  That talked us to sleep when we were small. 
8 
The wayside magic, the threshold spells,
  Shall soon undo what the North has done—
Because of the sights and the sounds and the smells
  That ran with our youth in the eye of the sun. 
9 
And Earth accepting shall ask no vows,
   Nor the Sea our love, nor our lover the Sky.
When we return to our Father’s House
  Only the English shall wonder why!

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1 
Shove off from the wharf-edge! Steady!
Watch for a smooth! Give way!
If she feels the lop already    
She'll stand on her head in the bay.
It's ebb–it's dusk–it's blowing–
The shoals are a mile of white,
But (snatch her along!) we're going
To find our master to-night.

   For we hold that in all disaster
   Of shipwreck, storm, or sword,
   A Man must stand by his Master
   When once he has pledged his word.

2 
Raging seas have we rowed in
But we seldom saw them thus,
Our master is angry with Odin–
Odin is angry with us!
Heavy odds have we taken,
But never before such odds.
The Gods know they are forsaken.
We must risk the wrath of the Gods!
3 
Over the crest she flies from,
Into its hollow she drops,
Cringes and clears her eyes from
The wind-torn breaker-tops,
Ere out on the shrieking shoulder
Of a hill-high surge she drives.
Meet her! Meet her and hold her!
Pull for your scoundrel lives!
4 
The thunders bellow and clamor
The harm that they mean to do!
There goes Thor's own Hammer
Cracking the dark in two!
Close! But the blow has missed her,
Here comes the wind of the blow!
Row or the squall'Il twist her  
Broadside on to it!–Row!
5 
Heark'ee, Thor of the Thunder!
We are not here for a jest–
For wager, warfare, or plunder,
Or to put your power to test.
This work is none of our wishing–
We would house at home if we might–
But our master is wrecked out fishing.
We go to find him to-night.

   For we hold that in all disaster–
   As the Gods Themselves have said–
   A Man must stand by his Master
   Till one of the two is dead.

6 
That is our way of thinking,
Now you can do as you will,
While we try to save her from sinking
And hold her head to it still.
Bale her and keep her moving,
Or she'll break her back in the trough...
Who said the weather's improving,
Or the swells are taking off?
7 
Sodden, and chafed and aching,
Gone in the loins and knees–
No matter–the day is breaking,
And there's far less weight to the seas!
Up mast, and finish baling–
In oar, and out with mead–
The rest will be two-reef sailing...
That was a night indeed!

   But we hold it in all disaster
   (And faith, we have found it true!)
   If only you stand by your Master,
   The Gods will stand by you!  

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1 
Know this, my brethren, Heaven is clear
  And all the clouds are gone—
The Proper Sort shall flourish now,
  "Good times are coming on"—
The evil that was threatened late
  To all of our degree
Hath passed in discord and debate,
  And, Hey then up go we!
2
A common people strove in vain
  To shame us unto toil,
But they are spent and we remain,
  And we shall share the spoil
According to our several needs
  As Beauty shall decree,
As Age ordains or Birth concedes,
  And, Hey then up go we!
3
And they that with accursed zeal
  Our Service would amend,
Shall own the odds and come to heel
  Ere worse befall their end:
For though no naked word be wrote
  Yet plainly shall they see
What pinneth Orders on their coat,
  And, Hey then up go we!
4
Our doorways that, in time of fear,
  We opened overwide
Shall softly close from year to year
  Till all be purified;
For though no fluttering fan be heard      .
  Nor chaff be seen to flee—
The Lord shall winnow the Lord's Preferred—
  And, Hey then up go we!
5
Our altars which the heathen brake
  Shall rankly smoke anew,
And anise, mint and cummin take
  Their dread and sovereign due,
Whereby the buttons of our trade
  Shall soon restored be
With curious work in gilt and braid,
  And, Hey then up go we!
6
Then come, my brethren, and prepare
  The candlesticks and bells,
The scarlet, brass, and badger's hair
  Wherein our Honour dwells,
And straitly fence and strictly keep
  The Ark's integrity
Till Armageddon break our sleep ...
  And, Hey then go we!

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    Once we feared The Beast–when he followed us we ran,
  Ran very fast though we knew
    It was not right that The Beast should master Man;
  But what could we Flint-workers do?
    The Beast only grinned at our spears round his ears–
  Grinned at the hammers that we made;
    But now we will hunt him for the life with the Knife–
  And this is the Buyer of the Blade!

       Room for his shadow on the grass–let it pass!
         To left and right-stand clear!
       This is the Buyer of the Blade–be afraid!
         This is the great god Tyr!

    Tyr thought hard till he hammered our a plan,
  For he knew it was not right
    (And it is not right) that The Beast should master Man;
  So he went to the Children of the Night.
    He begged a Magic Knife of their make for our sake.
  When he begged for the Knife they said:
    "The price of the Knife you would buy is an eye!"
  And that was the price he paid.

       Tell it to the Barrows of the Dead–run ahead!
         Shout it so the Women's Side can hear!
       This is the Buyer of the Blade–be afraid!
         This is the great god Tyr!

    Our women and our little ones may walk on the Chalk,
  As far as we can see them and beyond, 
    We shall not be anxious for our sheep when we keep
  Tally at the shearing-pond.
    We can eat with both our elbows on our knees, if we please,
  We can sleep after meals in the sun,
    For Shepherd-of-the-Twilight is dismayed at the Blade,
  Feet-in-the-Night have run!
    Dog-without-a-Master goes away (Hai, Tyr, aie!),
  Devil-in-the-Dusk has run!

       Room for his shadow on the grass–let it pass!
         To left and to right–stand clear!
       This is the Buyer of the Blade–be afraid!
         This is the great god Tyr!

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Where first by Eden Tree
The Four Great Rivers ran,
To each was appointed a Man
Her Prince and Ruler to be.

But after this was ordained
(The ancient legends tell),
There came dark Israel,
For whom no River remained.

Then He Whom the Rivers obey
Said to him: "Fling on the ground
A handful of yellow clay,
And a Fifth Great River shall run,
Mightier than these Four,
In secret the Earth around;
And Her secret evermore,
Shall be shown to thee and thy Race."

So it was said and done.
And, deep in the veins of Earth,
And, fed by a thousand springs
That comfort the market-place,
Or sap the power of King,
The Fifth Great River had birth,
Even as it was foretold–
The Secret River of Gold!

And Israel laid down
His sceptre and his crown,
To brood on that River bank
Where the waters flashed and sank
And burrowed in earth and fell
And bided a season below,
For reason that none might know,
Save only Israel.

He is Lord of the Last–
The Fifth, most wonderful, Flood.
He hears Her thunder past
And Her Song is in his blood.
He can foresay: "She will fall,"
For he knows which fountain dries
Behind which desert-belt
A thousand leagues to the South.

He can foresay: "She will rise."
He knows what far snows melt
Along what mountain-wall
A thousand leagues to the North,
He snuffs the coming drouth
As he snuffs the coming rain,
He knows what each will bring forth,
And turns it to his gain.

A Ruler without a Throne,
A Prince without a Sword,
Israel follows his quest.
In every land a guest,
Of many lands a lord,
In no land King is he.
But the Fifth Great River keeps
The secret of Her deeps
For Israel alone,
As it was ordered to be.

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How do I know what Order brings
   Me into being?
I only know, if you do certain things,
  I must become your Hearing and your Seeing;
Also your Strength, to make great wheels go round,
And save your sons from toil, while I am bound! 

What do I care how you dispose
  The Powers that move me?
I only know that I am one with those
  True Powers which rend the firmament above me,
And, harrying earth, would save me at the last—
But that your coward foresight holds me fast!

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A memory of our sojourn by the Sea,
A memory of the talk between us twain
A memory that will not go from me
     Until we meet again.

A boy's wild words beside the summer sea—
A baring of the heart's most secret pain.
A memory that will not go from me
     Until we meet again.

I thank you for I hold you very dear.
I send you these rough first-fruits of my brain. 
God keep you safe throughout the waning year
     Until we meet again.

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           SP. or MZ. SOPRANO 

I bound his soul by a word and an oath
   (Light Loves pass as the gusts of Spring) 
Lo! in a year he had broken both 
   And I am worn and sorrowing.
                    
                 CONTRALTO 

I bound his soul by my two eyes' might— 
   My lips' red seal was upon his brow
Between the nightingale's song and the night—
   Wherefore I rule his spirit now—

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