Moth and blossom, blade and bee, Worlds must go as well as we, In the long procession joining Mount and star and sea.
Toward the shadowy brink we climb Where the round year rolls sublime, Rolls, and drops, and falls forever In the vast of time.
Like a plummet plunging deep Past the utmost reach of sleep, Till remembrance has no longer Care to laugh or weep.
I know not why. [Morris Rosenfeld]
I lift mine eyes against the sky, The clouds are weeping, so am I; I lift mine eyes again on high, The sun is smiling, so am I.
Why do I smile? Why do I weep?
I do not know; it lies too deep.
I hear the winds of autumn sigh, They break my heart, they make me cry; I hear the birds of lovely spring, My hopes revive, I help them sing.
Why do I sing? Why do I cry?
It lies so deep, I know not why.
Winter Sleep. [Edith M. Thomas]
I know it must be winter (though I sleep) -- I know it must be winter, for I dream I dip my bare feet in the running stream, And flowers are many, and the gra.s.s grows deep.
I know I must be old (how age deceives!) I know I must be old, for, all unseen, My heart grows young, as autumn fields grow green, When late rains patter on the falling sheaves.
I know I must be tired (and tired souls err) -- I know I must be tired, for all my soul To deeds of daring beats a glad, faint roll, As storms the riven pine to music stir.
I know I must be dying (Death draws near) -- I know I must be dying, for I crave Life -- life, strong life, and think not of the grave, And turf-bound silence, in the frosty year.
Tryste Noel. [Louise Imogen Guiney]
The Ox he openeth wide the Doore, And from the Snowe he calls her inne, And he hath seen her Smile therefor, Our Ladye without Sinne.
Now soon from Sleep A Starre shall leap, And soone arrive both King and Hinde: ~Amen, Amen:~ But O, the Place co"d I but finde!
The Ox hath hush"d his voyce and bent Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow, And on his lovelie Neck, forspent, The Blessed layes her Browe.
Around her feet Full Warme and Sweete His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell: ~Amen, Amen:~ But sore am I with Vaine Travel!
The Ox is host in Judah stall And Host of more than onelie one.
For close she gathereth withal Our Lorde her littel Sonne.
Glad Hinde and King Their Gyfte may bring, But wo"d to-night my Teares were there, ~Amen, Amen:~ Between her Bosom and His hayre!
Hora Christi. [Alice Brown]
Sweet is the time for joyous folk Of gifts and minstrelsy; Yet I, O lowly-hearted One, Crave but Thy company.
On lonesome road, beset with dread, My questing lies afar.
I have no light, save in the east The gleaming of Thy star.
In cloistered aisles they keep to-day Thy feast, O living Lord!
With pomp of banner, pride of song, And stately sounding word.
Mute stand the kings of power and place, While priests of holy mind Dispense Thy blessed heritage Of peace to all mankind.
I know a spot where budless twigs Are bare above the snow, And where sweet winter-loving birds Flit softly to and fro; There with the sun for altar-fire, The earth for kneeling-place, The gentle air for chorister, Will I adore Thy face.
Loud, underneath the great blue sky, My heart shall paean sing, The gold and myrrh of meekest love Mine only offering.
Bliss of Thy birth shall quicken me; And for Thy pain and dole Tears are but vain, so I will keep The silence of the soul.
A Parting Guest. [James Whitcomb Riley]
What delightful hosts are they -- Life and Love!
Lingeringly I turn away, This late hour, yet glad enough They have not withheld from me Their high hospitality.
So, with face lit with delight And all grat.i.tude, I stay Yet to press their hands and say, "Thanks. -- So fine a time! Good night."
Biographical Notes
[The format of these notes has been slightly altered. Most notably, dates (hopefully correct, but not very certain for the lesser known poets) have been added -- when available -- in square brackets after each name, and the number of poems by that author in this anthology is in parentheses.
These notes (first included in 1917, whereas the selections were made in 1913) combined with the searchability of electronic texts, renders the original Indexes of Authors and of First Lines obsolete, and so both have been dropped. Occasionally, further information follows in angled brackets. -- A. L., 1998.]