NECROMANCE
Can heedless gazing teach me more than toil?
Can swaying of sere sedge along the slope, Or the dull lisp of oaken limbs that foil The sun"s ensheathing fervor, interfuse My vacant being with far meanings whose Soft airs blow from the hidden seas of Hope?
Or can the wintry sumac sably stooping So charm and lift my heart from heartless drooping When other healings all were asked in vain?
Yes--there are witcheries in the things of earth That breathe with an illimitable voice Wisdom and calm to us, and lure to birth Dim intimations bidding us rejoice Even in the great mystery of Pain.
LOOK NOT TO THE WEST
Look not to the west where the sun is dying On fields of darkening clouds!
Look not to the west where the wild birds nest And the winds are hieing To sweep away sleep from the forest, And tatter the shrouds of sable silence Lit by the fire-fly"s morris-dance.
Look not to the west-- "Tis best for the heart to hear not the chants Of Evening over day"s death!
Look not to the west where the sun is dying-- The sun that rose with song!
Look not to the west where the closed quest Of thy soul seems lying; Where every sorrow that ever Was wed with wrong in human breast, From the sea of its radiance never fades!
Look not to the west-- "Tis best for the heart to see not the shades That rise--the wrecks of the Past!
A NIKKO SHRINE
Under the sway, in old j.a.pan, Of silent cryptic trees, There is a shrine the worldliest Would near with bended knees.
Green, thro a torii, the way Leads to it, worn, across A rivulet whose voice intones With mystery of moss.
A mystery that is everywhere: The G.o.d beneath his shrine Seems but a mossy shape--yet so Ensheathed is more divine.
For tho Nature has m.u.f.fled him And sealed him there away, The meaning of all faith remains-- That men will ever pray.
Aye will, as long as soul has need, As long as earth is sod With tombs, bow down the knee to all That wakens in them G.o.d.
THE QUESTION
I shall lie so one day, With lips of Silence set; Eyes that no tear can wet Again: a thing of Clay.
I shall lie so, and Earth Will seize again her dust-- Though she must gnaw and rust The coffin"s iron girth.
I shall lie so--and they Who still the Day bestride, Will stand so by my side And with sad yearning say:
"What is he now, this man, Shut in a pallor there, His spirit that could dare, What--what now is its span?
"A withered atom"s s.p.a.ce Within a withered brain?
Or can it from the Wain To far Orion race?"
And, like all that have died, I shall but answer--naught.
Yet Time this truth has taught: The Question--will abide.
I"LL LOOK NO MORE
I"ll look no more! thro timeless hours my eyes Without intent have watched the slowing flight Of ebon crows across quiescent skies Till all are gone; the last, a lonely bird, Scudding to rest thro streams of golden curd That flow far eastward to the coming night.
And as I turn again to foiling thought My spirit leaves me--as faint zephyrs leave The trees at evening; tho all day they"ve sought A place to hide them in and fondly grieve.
And silently the slow oil sinks beneath The noiseless burning wick of yellow flame.
It is as if G.o.d back to him would breathe All the world"s given life, and end its Aim.
NIGHT"S OCCULTISM
Northward the twilight thro dark drifts Of cloud-wreck lingers cold.
Southward the sated lightning sinks Beneath the wooded wold.
Eastward immovable deep shade Is sealed with mystery.
Westward a memory of dead gold Wakes on a sunset sea.
Under, is earth"s still orbiting; Over, a clearing star: In all, the spirit litany Of life"s strange avatar.
UNCROWNED
I am not other than men are, you say?
But faulty and failing? And your love can lend No glory of illusion to o"erlay The lack, and make me seem one in whom blend n.o.bilities wherein your heart may lose All that it feels of flaw in me, or rues?
Can it so be? Did ever woman love Whose faith wreathed not about the brow she chose Aureolas illumining him above All that another thinks he is, or knows?
I ask it bravely, for the way is long, And, haloless, should I not lead you wrong?
WRITTEN IN h.e.l.l