Eyes of Youth

Sic Transit

 
They camped in the meadow at sunrise,
And their crests gleamed bright in the sun,
And the breeze that blew sighed soft, for it knew
Their fate e'er the day was done.
They lay in the meadow at sunset,
As the sky in anger blushed red;
For the host of the dawn lay still on the lawn—
The host was a host of dead.
 
 
Let the gardener but pass his scythe o'er the grass—
And the life of a daisy is sped!
 

MONICA SALEEBY

Retrospect

 
You loved the child of fifteen years.
I knew not this vast thing.
Your great heart shrank beneath your fears;
You left me wondering.
 
 
Now fourteen years have passed us by;
Our souls meet once again;
And, meeting, I have asked you why
Our ways apart have lain?
 
 
And now your answer comes at last:—
"I loved you in that day."
Oh, strange reply! Oh, tender past!
Oh, long love locked away!
 
 
And now, yes, I have climbed Love's hill;
My heart is bound, yet free.
And is there not some young child still
For you to love in me?
 
 
You have the right to love her yet,
For he who loves me grown
Knew not the child you'll ne'er forget;
I give her for your own.
 
 
Oh, keep her young within your breast,
Allow her to survive;
For love of you I'll do my best
To keep your child alive.
 

FRANCIS MEYNELL

Any Stone

 
A myriad years God toiled to mould
A nerveless stone to His intent—
From peace to war, from heat to cold,
It triumphed against the Omnipotent:
God strove until His strength grew old,
Then cried "Thy help, My firmament!"
 
 
The stars in succour gave their light,
The aiding moon her ocean-sway;
At dawn and dusk the hosts of night
Watched round the battle-fires of day …
To set the dust He loved aright
God called His winds to that array,
 
 
And all the burden of the world,
And all the tears from all men's eyes,
Drought, dew, and every flower unfurled,
The priest, the fire, the sacrifice,
The pillared cloud, His thunder hurled—
Victor, He held as nought the price!
 
 
Thus loved, thus wrought, God deemed the stone
Fit bed for beasts to lie upon.
 
 
O God of Gods, make short my days
Of blind approach to her and Thee;
Life-long upon Thy rugged ways
Her heart has danced: she calls to me.
Hast Thou forgotten me alone,
O Watcher where the wild beast lies?—
Mould to Thy will this other stone
—A stone, yet precious in her eyes.
 

Lux in Tenebris

 
Spirit of smiles and tears, you came to me in the night,
The golden moon aglow in your hair, and the spear-driven light
Of an army of stars in your eyes, weary with truant sleep.
O little skilled in self, who thought you came to weep!
 
 
Out of the darkness, light; flame in the virgin dew!
Love came unto her own, and knew him not, who knew.
O understood! O known! O apprehended bliss!
O self unskilled in self! O taught of my one kiss!
 

Mater Inviolata

 
A maiden's love most nuptial is,
Innocent of his nuptial kiss;
And only after marriage call
Her lips, her passion, virginal!
 
 
For when she dreams, who is beloved,
The ancient miracle stands proved—
Virginity's much Motherhood!
For O, the unborn babes she keeps,
The unthought glory, lips unwooed!—
And O, the quickening of her sleeps
Whose dreams, dreamed over, do repeat
The echoes of Love's falling feet!
For his, her young inviolate mouth
Longs with the longing of long drouth:
And, lacking substance for such feast,
She clasps a dream-baby to breast,
And kisses, where her head has place,
The dream-lips of her love's dream-face!
 
 
On the decked bridal bed of Night
She knows the Moon shows maiden light—
The Sun's kiss urged in marriage-rite!
So, when her very night shall come,
Virginal, in her virgin home
When stars show unfamiliar faces,
Laughing for love in their high places—
When her essential lips are dumb
In a thronged panic of embraces—
Her maiden heart, her spousal breast,
Shall throb, surrendered and possessed,
Throb, passion-sweet and ungainsaid—
"Now at the last am I a Maid!"
 

Song-burden

 
I do confess I have no art
To tell the tale of my own heart.
 
 
Of lips and tears, of hearts and eyes,
I rhyme my rhymes and fear my fears;
And if of these I make you wise,
These pictured hearts, these lips, these tears,
There is nought to do; I have played my part.
 
 
And I, a captain of much guile,
Within your ranks dissensions preach
Till all are jealous, each of each—
Your eyes, lips, heart, a tear, a smile!
 
 
So, when you turn your eyes away
From mirrored eyes, and when you stay
Love-hearing with reluctant hand,
Straight then your heart-throbs will betray
That you have read, and understand!
 
 
And should your maiden heart uprise
Against fain ears and full-fain eyes,
Upon your lips, that cannot err,
I set my kiss-interpreter!
 
 
Or hold you steadfast as allies
Your heart, hand, lips, your smiles, your all,
Your faithful eyes are traitrous eyes—
Out-steals a tear to your downfall!
 
 
Your heart, your eyes, the lips of you
—Hesitant and full-fain your eyes!—
Make all my song; have I sung true?
Make all my song; are you song-wise?
 

Gifts

 
My given gifts have been, ah me!
Sorrow, and superfluity.
 
 
You needed primal force, and this
Was all my giving—emphasis.
 
 
For your mute voice more mute I made,
And at your singing proffered song;
You trembled, and I was afraid—
Were pierced, I fell on the same blade—
Triumphed, and then my arm was strong.
For peace I builded on your peace,
And on your weakness mine up-piled;
Of too fond hope I made increase,
And at your smilings, as a child,
Ignorant of their cost, I smiled.
 
 
Always I fear at sight of fears,
And always weep at weeping eyes;
O my Belovéd, take my tears,
Take my sighs!
 
 
And these, and these, alas! shall be
Sorrow, and superfluity.