class="c4">SHE OF THE GARDEN


In such a spot, with radiant flowers for halo,
I saw the Guardian Angel sit her down;
Vine-branches fashioned a green shrine above her
And sun-flowers rose behind her like a crown.


Her fingers, their white slenderness encircled
With humble, fragile rings of coral round.
Held, ranged in couples, sprays of faithful roses.
Sealed with a clasp, with threads of woollen bound.


A shimmering air the golden calm was weaving,
All filigree'd with dawn, that like a braid
Surmounted her pure brow, which still was hidden
Half in the shade.


Woven of linen were her veil and sandals.
But, twined 'mid boughs of foliage, on their hem
The theologic Virtues Three were painted;
Hearts set about with gold encompassed them.


Her silken hair, slow rippling, from her shoulder
Down to the mosses of the sward did reach;
The childhood of her eyes disclosed a silence
More sweet than speech.


My arms outstretched, and all my soul upstraining.
Then did I rise,
With haggard yearning, toward the soul suspended
There in her eyes.
Those eyes, they shone so vivid with remembrance,
That they confessed days lived alike with me:
Oh, in the grave inviolate can it change, then,
The Long Ago, and live in the To Be?


Sure, she was one who, being dead, yet brought me.
Miraculous, a strength that comforteth,
And the Viaticum of her survival
Guiding me from the further side of Death.





From "LA MULTIPLE SPLENDEUR"




THE GLORY OF THE HEAVENS


Shining in dim transparence, the whole of infinity lies
Behind the veil that the finger of radiant winter weaves
And down on us falls the foliage of stars in glittering sheaves;
From out the depths of the forest, the forest obscure of the skies,


The wingèd sea with her shadowy floods as of dappled silk
Speeds, 'neath the golden fires, her pale immensity o'er;
And diamond-rayed, the moonlight, shining along the shore,
Bathes the brow of the headlands in radiance as soft as milk.


Yonder there flow, untwining and twining their loops anew!
The mighty, silvery rivers, through the translucent night;
And a glint as of wondrous acids sparkles with magic light
the cup that the lake outstretches towards the mountains blue.


Everywhere light seems breaking forth into flower and star,
Whether on shore in stillness, or wavering on the deep.
The islands are nests where silence inviolate doth deep;
An ardent nimbus hovers o'er yon horizons far.


See, from Nadir to Zenith one aureole doth reach!
Of yore, the souls exalted by faith's high mysteries
Saw, in the domination of those star-clouded skies,
Jehovah's hand resplendent and heard His silent speech.


But now the eyes that scan them no longer may there aspire
To we some god self-banished—not so, but the intricate
Tangle of marvellous problems, the messengers that wait
On Measureless Force, and veil her, there on her couch of fire.


O cauldrons of life, where matter, adown the eternal day,
Pours herself fruitful, seething through paths of scattering flame!
O flux of worlds and reflux to other worlds the same!
Unending oscillation betwixt newer and for aye!


Tumults consumed in whirlpools of speed and sound and light—
Violence we nought may reck of!—and yet there falls from thence
The vast, unbroken silence, mysterious and intense
That makes the peace, the calmness and beauty of the night!


O spheres of flame and golden, always more far and high;
Abyss to abyss still floating, onward from shade to shade!
So far, so high, all reck'ning the wisdom of man has made,
Before those giddy numbers must shrink in his hands and die!


Shining in dim transparence, the whole of infinity lies
Behind the veils that the finger of radiant winter weaves;
And down on us falls the foliage of star in glittering sheaves,
From out the depths of the forest, the forest obscure of the skies.




LIFE


To see beauty in all, is to lift our own Soul
Up to loftier heights than do chose who aspire
Through culpable suffering, vanquished desire.
Harsh Reality, dread and ineffable Whole,
Distils her red draught, enough tonic and stern
To intoxicate heads and to make the heart burn.


O clean and pure grain, whence are purged all the tares!
Clear torch, chosen out amid many whose flame;
Though ancient in splendour, is false to its name!
It is good to keep step, though beset with hard cares,
With the life that is real, to the far distant goal,
With no arm save the lucid, white pride of one's soul!


To march, thus intrepid in confidence, straight
On the obstacle, holding the stubborn hope
Of conquering, thanks to firm blows of the will,
Of intelligence prompt, or of patience to wait;
And to feel growing stronger within us the sense,
Day by day, of a power superb and intense!


To love ourselves keenly those others within
Who share a like strife with us, soar without fear
Toward that one future, whose footsteps we hear;
To love them, heart, brain, and because we are kin
Because in some dark, maddened day they have known
One anguish, one mourning, one string with our own!

To be drunk with the great human battle of wills—
—Pale, fleeting reflex of the monstrous assaults,
Golden movements of planets in heaven's high vaults—
Till one lives in all that which acts, struggles, and thrills,
And avidly opens one's heart to the law
That rules, dread and stern, the whole universe o'er!




JOY


O splendid, spacious day, irradiate
With flaming dawns, when earth shows yet more fair
Her ardent beauty, proud, without alloy;
And wakening life breathes out her perfume rare
So potently, that, all intoxicate,
Our ravished being rushes upon joy!


Be thanked, mine eyes, that now
Ye still shine clear beneath my furrowed brow
To see afar, the light vibrating there;
And you my hands, that in the sun yet thrill,
And you, my fingers, that glow golden still
Among the golden fruit upon the wall
Where hollyhocks stand tall.


Be thanked, my body, that thyself dost bear
Yet firm and swift, and quivering to the touch
Of the quick breezes or of winds profound;
And you, straight frame, and lungs outbreathing wide,
Along the shore or on the mountain-side,
The sharp and radiant air
That bathes and grips the mighty worlds around!


O festal mornings, calm in loveliness,
Rose whose pure face the dewdrops all caress,
Birds flying toward us, like some presage white,
Gardens of sombre shade or frailest light!


What time the ample summer warms the glade,
I love you, roads, by which came hither late
She who held hidden in her hands my fate.
I love you, distant marshes, woods austere,
And to its depths, I love the earth, where here
Beneath my feet, my dead to rest are laid.


So I exist in all that doth surround
And penetrate me:—all this grassy ground,
These hidden paths, and many a copse of beech:
Clear water, that no clouding shadows reach:
You have become to me
Myself, because you are my