Later Poems Part 3

_I took a day to search for G.o.d, And found Him not. But as I trod By rocky ledge, through woods untamed, Just where one scarlet lily flamed, I saw His footprint in the sod._

_Then suddenly, all unaware, Far off in the deep shadows, where A solitary hermit thrush Sang through the holy twilight hush-- I heard His voice upon the air._

_And even as I marvelled how G.o.d gives us Heaven here and now, In a stir of wind that hardly shook The poplar leaves beside the brook-- His hand was light upon my brow._

_At last with evening as I turned Homeward, and thought what I had learned And all that there was still to probe-- I caught the glory of His robe Where the last fires of sunset burned._

_Back to the world with quickening start I looked and longed for any part In making saving Beauty be....

And from that kindling ecstasy I knew G.o.d dwelt within my heart._

A Remembrance.

Here in lovely New England When summer is come, a sea-turn Flutters a page of remembrance In the volume of long ago.

Soft is the wind over Grand Pre, Stirring the heads of the gra.s.ses, Sweet is the breath of the orchards White with their apple-blow.

There at their infinite business Of measuring time forever, Murmuring songs of the sea, The great tides come and go.

Over the dikes and the uplands Wander the great cloud shadows, Strange as the pa.s.sing of sorrow, Beautiful, solemn, and slow.

For, spreading her old enchantment Of tender ineffable wonder, Summer is there in the Northland!

How should my heart not know?

The s.h.i.+ps of Yule

When I was just a little boy, Before I went to school, I had a fleet of forty sail I called the s.h.i.+ps of Yule;

Of every rig, from rakish brig And gallant barkentine, To little Fundy fis.h.i.+ng boats With gunwales painted green.

They used to go on trading trips Around the world for me, For though I had to stay on sh.o.r.e My heart was on the sea.

They stopped at every port to call From Babylon to Rome, To load with all the lovely things We never had at home;

With elephants and ivory Bought from the King of Tyre, And sh.e.l.ls and silk and sandal-wood That sailor men admire;

With figs and dates from Samarcand, And squatty ginger-jars, And scented silver amulets From Indian bazaars;

With sugar-cane from Port of Spain, And monkeys from Ceylon, And paper lanterns from Pekin With painted dragons on;

With cocoanuts from Zanzibar, And pines from Singapore; And when they had unloaded these They could go back for more.

And even after I was big And had to go to school, My mind was often far away Aboard the s.h.i.+ps of Yule.

The s.h.i.+ps of Saint John

Where are the s.h.i.+ps I used to know, That came to port on the Fundy tide Half a century ago, In beauty and stately pride?

In they would come past the beacon light, With the sun on gleaming sail and spar, Folding their wings like birds in flight From countries strange and far.

Schooner and brig and barkentine, I watched them slow as the sails were furled, And wondered what cities they must have seen On the other side of the world.

Frenchman and Britisher and Dane, Yankee, Spaniard and Portugee, And many a home s.h.i.+p back again With her stories of the sea.

Calm and victorious, at rest From the relentless, rough sea-play, The wild duck on the river's breast Was not more sure than they.

The creatures of a pa.s.sing race, The dark spruce forests made them strong, The sea's lore gave them magic grace, The great winds taught them song.

And G.o.d endowed them each with life-- His blessing on the craftsman's skill-- To meet the blind unreasoned strife And dare the risk of ill.

Not mere insensate wood and paint Obedient to the helm's command, But often restive as a saint Beneath the Heavenly hand.

All the beauty and mystery Of life were there, adventure bold, Youth, and the glamour of the sea And all its sorrows old.

And many a time I saw them go Out on the flood at morning brave, As the little tugs had them in tow, And the sunlight danced on the wave.

There all day long you could hear the sound Of the caulking iron, the s.h.i.+p's bronze bell, And the clank of the capstan going round As the great tides rose and fell.

The sailors' songs, the Captain's shout, The boatswain's whistle piping shrill, And the roar as the anchor chain runs out,-- I often hear them still.

I can see them still, the sun on their gear, The s.h.i.+ning streak as the hulls careen, And the flag at the peak unfurling,--clear As a picture on a screen.

The fog still hangs on the long tide-rips, The gulls go wavering to and fro, But where are all the beautiful s.h.i.+ps I knew so long ago?

The Garden of Dreams

My heart is a garden of dreams Where you walk when day is done, Fair as the royal flowers, Calm as the lingering sun.

Never a drouth comes there, Nor any frost that mars, Only the wind of love Under the early stars,--

The living breath that moves Whispering to and fro, Like the voice of G.o.d in the dusk Of the garden long ago.

Garden Magic