Later Poems Part 9

Grim fear, unmanly doubt, And impotent despair Went at his bidding forth Among the things that were,--

Leaving a place all clean, Resounding of the sea And decked with forest green, To be a home for thee.

The Homestead.

Here we came when love was young.

Now that love is old, Shall we leave the floor unswept And the hearth acold?

Here the hill-wind in the dusk.

Wandering to and fro, Moves the moonflowers, like a ghost Of the long ago.

Here from every doorway looks A remembered face, Every sill and panel wears A familiar grace.

Let the windows smile again To the morning light, And the door stand open wide When the moon is bright.

Let the breeze of twilight blow Through the silent hall, And the dreaming rafters hear How the thrushes call.

Oh, be merciful and fond To the house that gave All its best to shelter love, Built when love was brave!

Here we came when love was young, Now that love is old, Never let its day be lone, Nor its heart acold!

"The Starry Midnight Whispers"

The starry midnight whispers, As I muse before the fire On the ashes of ambition And the embers of desire,

"Life has no other logic, And time no other creed, Than: 'I for joy will follow.

Where thou for love dost lead!'"

A Lyric

Oh, once I could not understand The sob within the throat of spring,-- The shrilling of the frogs, nor why The birds so pa.s.sionately sing.

That was before your beauty came And stooped to teach my soul desire, When on these mortal lips you laid The magic and immortal fire.

I wondered why the sea should seem So gray, so lonely, and so old; The sigh of level-driving snows In winter so forlornly cold.

I wondered what it was could give The scarlet autumn pomps their pride.

And paint with colors not of earth The glory of the mountainside.

I could not tell why youth should dream And wors.h.i.+p at the evening star, And yet must go with eager feet Where danger and where splendor are.

I could not guess why men at times, Beholding beauty, should go mad With joy or sorrow or despair Or some unknown delight they had.

I wondered what they had received From Time's inexorable hand So full of loveliness and doom.

But now, ah, now I understand!

"April now in Morning Clad"

April now in morning clad Like a gleaming oread, With the south wind in her voice, Comes to bid the world rejoice.

With the sunlight on her brow, Through her veil of silver showers, April o'er New England now Trails her robe of woodland flowers,--

Violet and anemone; While along the misty sea, Pipe at lip, she seems to blow Haunting airs of long ago.

Nike

What do men give thanks for?

I give thanks for one, Lovelier than morning, Dearer than the sun.

Such a head the victors Must have praised and known, With that breast and bearing, Nike's very own--

As superb, untrammeled, Rhythmed and poised and free As the strong pure sea-wind Walking on the sea;

Such a hand as Beauty Uses with full heart, Seeking for her freedom In new shapes of art;

Soft as rain in April, Quiet as the days Of the purple asters And the autumn haze;

With a soul more subtle Than the light of stars, Frailer than a moth's wing To the touch that mars;

Wise with all the silence Of the waiting hills, When the gracious twilight Wakes in them and thrills;

With a voice more tender Than the early moon Hears among the thrushes In the woods of June;

Delicate as gra.s.ses When they lift and stir-- One sweet lyric woman-- I give thanks for her.

The Enchanted Traveller

We travelled empty-handed With hearts all fear above, For we ate the bread of friends.h.i.+p, We drank the wine of love.

Through many a wondrous autumn, Through many a magic spring, We hailed the scarlet banners, We heard the blue-bird sing.