Star over Bethlehem Read online

  A Passing

  A WHIRLING of dead leaves,

  A gathering in of sheaves,

  The stripping of the trees,

  The ebbing of the seas,

  The shifting of the sands,

  A vision of far lands …

  A sundering and a thundering

  Of prison bars that fall!

  The answer to a call

  New destiny to shape …

  A silence … and a breath …

  We call it—Death!

  Nor dare to say—Escape!

  Other Poems

  Spring

  A CHILD has passed through the woods today,

  Hush! You shall find him there at play!

  See—snowdrops scattered in the glade,

  And nestling close in childlike grace,

  The crocus lifts his chubby face,

  Serene and unafraid!

  And out on the downs

  In their straight green gowns

  The daffodils wait … Whilst hidden quite

  The shy blue violets in delight

  Peer forth to tempt his careless hand …

  And the Child who passes by today goes laughing through the land!

  A Child has passed through the city street,

  Follow the track of his little feet …

  Golden-hued baskets on the curb,

  A lifted head and a brightened eye

  As the busy worker passes by

  And the flowers his thoughts disturb …

  A sudden stir

  In the wintry air!

  A tired heart that knows a gleam

  Of strange sweet joy … A transient dream

  Of all the things that might have been …

  And a Child who passes through the street—who passes all unseen …

  Stay, Child! What is thy name?

  Whence art thou come? Who gave thee birth?

  My Mother, the Earth

  Bore me in joy!

  She, the All Wise

  Fashioned my limbs

  In this fair guise

  Without alloy.

  Who is thy Father?

  The Breath of a Flame!

  In the Future is written the Might of his Name …

  Offspring am I of the Seen and Unseen,

  Of that which shall come, and of that which hath been!

  Wisdom of Ages—and Promise of Dawn,

  Calling to life all the life yet unborn,

  Lo! in the CHILD is the Hope of the Earth!

  So shall I pass—bringing Spring and Rebirth!

  Young Morning

  NIGHT gave me birth, and to my fashioning went

  Fear and Unrest, Hate that will not relent,

  Pain, and a Joy too keen to face the light,

  Passion, Desire, and Mystery of Night …

  A wreath of stars is set upon my brow,

  And, twining round my feet, pale lilies grow,

  My body has the beauty of the Moon,

  Its slender whiteness girt with holy rune.

  My heart is full of doubts that softly wake,

  Longings not understood—the strange sweet ache

  Of unfulfilled desire … Dreamful of Fate,

  Veiled in my nightblack hair, I stand and wait!

  This is my hour!

  Eternity itself halts on its ceaseless round,

  And all the world halts with it for a little spell,

  And in the quivering stillness comes the sound

  Of all the secret music that I love so well:

  The sighs of lovers, and the haunting cry

  Of tawny beasts, and the awakening call

  Of drowsy baby birds in nests so high …

  My outspread arms rule over all!

  This is my hour!

  The stars around my head have paled away,

  The lily buds are opening gold and gay,

  From out the slumbering hills there cometh One

  Most glorious without—within—the Sun!

  About my limbs the purple mists unfold,

  Upon my head—a Crown of Blood and Gold!

  And I am wrapped in rich and varied hue,

  Crimson and rose, and faintest starry blue …

  What is this strange new anguish in my heart?

  See—where the mists of morning slowly part

  My Lover comes! His banners bravely borne

  And greets me in the burning Kiss of Dawn!

  Give me my hour within my Lover’s arms!

  Vanished the doubts, the fears, the sweet alarms!

  I lose myself within his quickening Breath …

  And when he tires and leaves me—there is Death …

  Hymn to Ra

  From the West we came,

  To the West we shall return!

  Ra! Giver of all! Listen and hear!

  Hark to Thy People’s Oath! Thus do we swear!

  We will return to the West

  There, to the Land of the Blest,

  There whence we came …

  From the West we came,

  To the West we shall return!

  Ra! Light of the World! Keep our Faith pure!

  We are the chosen Race! We shall endure!

  Slaves are the Black and the White!

  Great are the Red in Thy sight!

  Lords of the World!

  From the West we came,

  To the West we shall return!

  Ra! Red is Thy Light! Mighty Thy Heat!

  Thou shalt set every nation under our feet!

  We who are Builders in Stone,

  Forgers of Metal unknown,

  Rulers of All!

  From the West we came,

  To the West we shall return!

  Ra! We are Thy Sons! Thus ’tis decreed:

  “With our own kind will we mate, we and our seed.

  In whose veins runs the blood of a slave

  He shall go down to the grave!”

  Lest we grow weak.

  From the West we came,

  To the West we shall return!

  Ra! Father of Strength! Thou who art Life!

  Guide Thou our spears in the battle, prosper our Strife!

  Yet, when the fight is o’er,

  Let us return once more

  Back to the West …

  A Palm Tree in the Desert

  IN the Desert I stand

  Alone—always alone …

  Whilst around me the shifting sands

  Change not from day to day.

  And now and again from the far-off lands

  Comes a breath that lifts my leaves

  In unquenchable hope …

  Then, sighing, they sink once more to their rest …

  Here by the pool in the Desert

  The camels halt and kneel,

  Patient and weary …

  And the Men of the Desert turn to the East

  At the hour of the Midday prayer.

  Their weariness stayed and refreshed,

  They pass from my sight far into the North,

  And only the sands,

  The shifting sands of the Desert

  Are left …

  I have lived through one passionate hour!

  Sirocco—Wind of the South—

  Like an Avenger came!

  Where he had passed

  None lifted their heads again …

  He clasped me close,

  Scorched by his breath,

  Tortured in joy,

  I gave myself up to be seared and devoured!

  A mist of hot sand rose around us

  Veiling us close …

  Then, like a Flame

  Onward he rushed to the North

  In that Column of whirling and eddying sand

  Which is Death …

  Sirocco—Breath of the Desert!

  When shalt thou come again?

  Return! Return!

  The day of Khamsen is past …

  And I am left

  Here by the pool in the Desert


  Alone … always alone …

  World Hymn 1914

  THUNDER of guns and clash of steel!

  Fashion it out with lathe and with wheel.

  These are the masters of men today,

  Men who created, and men who pay.

  A hum in the sky

  Where the war birds fly,

  Battle, murder, and sudden death,

  Women who pray with a catch in their breath,

  The God of War is nigh!

  Thunder of guns, and clash of steel!

  Women who work, and women who kneel,

  Crying aloud: “How long, how long?

  Before the right shall defeat the wrong?”

  Silence and Peace,

  Rest and Release!

  Hearts that are fainting beneath the strain

  Call upon Heaven in passionate pain,

  Call to the God of Peace.

  Thunder of guns, and clash of steel!

  All the way through, for woe or for weal,

  The throb of a People’s heart that is breaking,

  The stir of a People’s soul that is waking …

  And beneath the roar

  Of the weapons of war,

  A Silence set in the midst of Sound …

  And a Voice that shall never again be drowned …

  The Unknown God is speaking …

  Easter 1918

  LET us today know only great rejoicing,

  Nor mourn our gallant dead, so young and gay

  Like Easter flowers

  That stand in youthful vigour straight and golden,

  Those Easter flowers which fill the world today!

  Let now be ours

  The wider vision (though our eyes be holden)

  The deeper understanding that shall see

  Death as a change which comes at Life’s beginning,

  A joyous rushing of young souls set free …

  Let us not mar the splendour of their going!

  Their loving and their laughter shall not cease.

  So shall we almost hear, for ever growing

  Out of the silent darkness day by day,

  The rushing sound of a triumphant massing!

  Oh! let us then acclaim that valiant passing

  Which some call Death—and others name Release!

  To a Beautiful Old Lady

  DRIED roseleaves for your lips,

  Grey ashes for your hair,

  Cold sapphires for your shrewd old eyes

  Which looked on life so calmly wise

  And never knew a tear.

  Old ivory for your arms

  Which never held a child.

  Your cheek is smooth as Dresden ware

  With ne’er a line to tell of care,

  You—who have watched and smiled!

  So Pain has passed you by,

  And Love and Toil and Sin …

  You’ve dwelt within a self-built wall,

  And when the shell shall break and fall

  There’s emptiness within …

  Wild Roses

  I KNOW

  Where the wild roses grow

  Beside the lake.

  The little spirits come and play,

  And pink and white

  Dance in the light

  Before the break of day!

  The sun comes up in golden heat,

  The roses open wide … and fall …

  And that is all …

  Except I think I hear a sound

  Along the ground,

  Of many little pattering feet …

  No more

  Shall my wild rose of yore

  Walk by the lake.

  She told me where the rose sprites were

  And how they played

  All undismayed

  By her sweet presence there!

  Then Death rose up twixt her and me!

  She turned her, smiling, to his call …

  And that is all …

  Except I cannot bear to go

  Where roses grow

  Beside the lake—so wild and free …

  Love Passes

  LOVE passes! On the hearth dead embers lie

  Where once there burned a fire of living flame,

  Where we, starved children, sheltering in shame,

  Stretched out our hands, and let the world go by,

  Warming our frozen hearts in ecstasy

  And dreaming Love should always be the same …

  In vain your pity! And in vain my blame!

  Love passes—and we know not whence or why …

  Love passes out into the silent night,

  We may not hold him who has served our will

  And, for a while, made magic common things …

  Now, like a bird, he spreads his wings in flight,

  And we are left in darkness—listening still

  To the faint far-off beating of his wings …

  Progression

  LOVE comes as the Spring comes

  Fearing …

  Dreading …

  The brown boughs are in blossom;

  A breath of frost,

  A wind from the leas,

  And the blossom would fall …

  But close to the earth

  The tiny common flowers

  Blossom unheeded …

  Summer!

  And love …

  Stillness

  And at the heart of the Stillness

  A throb …

  Flame!

  Flame in the Forest!

  Flame in my heart!

  Lover of mine

  Never was love such as ours

  Ecstasy …

  Joy …

  Passion …

  Pain …

  Closer, O heart of mine …

  Closer yet …

  Your lips …

  In the Forest the leaves are on fire,

  Spendthrift and reckless their joy!

  Riot of life!

  What was that strange dry sound?

  A leaf that crackled beneath my feet

  Withered and brown …

  Closer, O heart of mine.

  I am afraid …

  Your lips …

  Wintertime

  Peace

  Dead heart

  (Or asleep?)

  A touch?

  A kiss?

  What are these that they leave me so cold?

  Emptiness

  Death …

  A bird in the wood,

  Now do I surely know that I shall awake!

  Return once more to love and delight,

  Springtime will come again,

  The almond trees blossom once more …

  And yet I weep,

  For never again shall I tread love’s ways with you …

  Farewell, O Lover of mine,

  Our day is done.

  Wintertime

  Peace

  O lover of mine that I loved,

  Farewell …

  There Where My Lover Lies

  THERE where my lover lies,

  A King palm at his head,

  The earth is warm and kind,

  A little whispering wind

  Comes from the hills,

  Lingers in passing … and then dies …

  There where my lover lies

  Greeting the dead …

  No frangipani flow’rs,

  Honeyed and sweet,

  Shall mock our radiant hours,

  But at his feet

  Night blooming Cereus grows …

  You were a king, my love, and I

  In the far North lie nightly down to die.

  Then, on your grave, a thousand flowers are born,

  Wide cups of white

  Filled with delight,

  Lasting their radiant hour to dawn!

  There lies my lover—dead,

  A King palm at his head,

  Night Cereus at his feet,

  The night is all too fleet …

&nbs
p; POEMS

  Things

  Beauty

  THE earth is Beauty and also longing;

  Without desire and incompleteness

  There is no Beauty.

  Only the undreamt dream knows significance,

  Only the vision we do not see has essential form;

  Beauty is a vision imperfectly seen,

  Beauty is the sound our ears hear only partly.

  There is a stillness in the heart of sound.

  Let me escape into that stillness

  Which is Nothing and Everything;

  Let me escape from the sharp pain of Beauty

  For Beauty is a sword that pierces the heart;

  Then shall I be the End and the Beginning,

  Then shall I be Myself and Everyone

  And also No one.

  Beauty will not exist …

  Beauty is here and now,

  It is not hereafter …

  The Water Flows

  THE water flows

  Peacefully along …

  Under the trees

  Like a song

  Unsung.

  Peacefully the water flows

  Under the trees,

  Brown water deep and cool,

  Like beautiful words

  That no one has said.

  For the lips that might have spoken them

  Are dead,

  But the words are there still

  In the stream,

  Carried along

  With the silent song …

  Gentle winding stream

  Under the trees,

  You are like a dream

  That might have been dreamt

  But the dreamer awoke

  Too soon …

  The dream is here

  In the stream,

  Carried along

  With the song

  And the words

  That are too lovely to be said.

  The stream ripples and murmurs,

  It talks as it flows,

  But it is not the stream that I hear,

  It is the deep dream and the song and the rhythm of beautiful words.

  They are there

  Under the trees

  Flowing along …

  O song,

  O words,

  O dream,

  You do not only seem,

  You are there in the deep reality of final peace.

  The Sculptor

  IN silence beauty will take form and grow …

  In silence, in a dark place will beauty stand

  Deathless—eternal—with an outstretched hand.