Songs from Books Part 18

I meet my mates in the morning, a broken, scattered band.

Men shoot us in the water and club us on the land; Men drive us to the Salt House like silly sheep and tame, And still we sing Lukannon--before the sealers came.

_Wheel down, wheel down to southward! Oh, Gooverooska go!

And tell the Deep-Sea Viceroys the story of our woe; Ere, empty as the shark's egg the tempest flings ash.o.r.e, The Beaches of Lukannon shall know their sons no more!_

AN ASTROLOGER'S SONG

To the Heavens above us O look and behold The Planets that love us All harnessed in gold!

What chariots, what horses, Against us shall bide While the Stars in their courses Do fight on our side?

All thought, all desires, That are under the sun, Are one with their fires, As we also are one.

All matter, all spirit, All fas.h.i.+on, all frame, Receive and inherit Their strength from the same.

Oh, man that deniest All power save thine own, Their power in the highest Is mightily shown.

Not less in the lowest That power is made clear (Oh, man, if thou knowest, What treasure is here!)

Earth quakes in her throes And we wonder for why.

But the blind planet knows When her ruler is nigh; And, attuned since Creation To perfect accord, She thrills in her station And yearns to her Lord.

The waters have risen, The springs are unbound-- The floods break their prison, And ravin around.

No rampart withstands 'em, Their fury will last, Till the Sign that commands 'em Sinks low or swings past.

Through abysses unproven, O'er gulfs beyond thought, Our portion is woven, Our burden is brought.

Yet They that prepare it, Whose Nature we share, Make us who must bear it Well able to bear.

Though terrors o'ertake us We'll not be afraid.

No Power can unmake us Save that which has made.

Nor yet beyond reason Or hope shall we fall-- All things have their season, And Mercy crowns all!

Then, doubt not, ye fearful-- The Eternal is King-- Up, heart, and be cheerful, And l.u.s.tily sing:-- _What chariots, what horses, Against us shall bide While the Stars in their courses Do fight on our side?_

'THE POWER OF THE DOG'

There is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; But when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more?

_Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear._

Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie-- Perfect pa.s.sion and wors.h.i.+p fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.

_Nevertheless it is hardly fair To risk your heart for a dog to tear._

When the fourteen years which Nature permits Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, And the vet's unspoken prescription runs To lethal chambers or loaded guns, _Then you will find--it's your own affair, But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear._

When the body that lived at your single will, When the whimper of welcome is stilled (how still!), When the spirit that answered your every mood Is gone--wherever it goes--for good, _You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear._

We've sorrow enough in the natural way, When it comes to burying Christian clay.

Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent.

Though it is not always the case, I believe, That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve: For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, A short-time loan is as bad as a long-- _So why in--Heaven (before we are there) Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?_

THE RABBI'S SONG

If Thought can reach to Heaven, On Heaven let it dwell, For fear thy Thought be given Like power to reach to h.e.l.l.

For fear the desolation And darkness of thy mind Perplex an habitation Which thou hast left behind.

Let nothing linger after-- No whimpering ghost remain, In wall, or beam, or rafter, Of any hate or pain.

Cleanse and call home thy spirit, Deny her leave to cast, On aught thy heirs inherit, The shadow of her past.

For think, in all thy sadness, What road our griefs may take; Whose brain reflect our madness, Or whom our terrors shake.

For think, lest any languish By cause of thy distress-- The arrows of our anguish Fly farther than we guess.

Our lives, our tears, as water, Are spilled upon the ground; G.o.d giveth no man quarter, Yet G.o.d a means hath found, Though faith and hope have vanished, And even love grows dim-- A means whereby His banished Be not expelled from Him.

THE BEE BOY'S SONG

_Bees! Bees! Hark to your bees!

'Hide from your neighbours as much as you please, But all that has happened, to_ us _you must tell, Or else we will give you no honey to sell!'_

A maiden in her glory, Upon her wedding-day, Must tell her Bees the story, Or else they'll fly away.

Fly away--die away-- Dwindle down and leave you!

But if you don't deceive your Bees, Your Bees will not deceive you.

Marriage, birth or buryin', News across the seas, All you're sad or merry in, You must tell the Bees.

Tell 'em coming in an' out, Where the Fanners fan, 'Cause the Bees are just about As curious as a man!

Don't you wait where trees are, When the lightnings play, Nor don't you hate where Bees are, Or else they'll pine away.

Pine away--dwine away-- Anything to leave you!

But if you never grieve your Bees, Your Bees'll never grieve you.

THE RETURN OF THE CHILDREN

Neither the harps nor the crowns amused, nor the cherubs' dove-winged races-- Holding hands forlornly the Children wandered beneath the Dome, Plucking the splendid robes of the pa.s.sers-by, and with pitiful faces Begging what Princes and Powers refused:--'Ah, please will you let us go home?'