Poems of Experience Part 6

(Strange are the workings of a woman's mind.)

His giant shade preceded him, Along the pathway green, and dim; She heard his swift approaching tread, But still she sat with drooping head.

(Dark are the jungles of unhappy thought.)

He kissed her mouth, and gazed within Her troubled eyes; for since their sin, His love had grown a thousand fold.

But Eve drew back; her face was cold.

(Oh, who can read the cipher of a soul.)

'Now art thou mourning still, sweet wife?'

Spake Adam tenderly, 'the life Of our lost Eden? Why, in THEE All Paradise remains for me.'

(Deep, deep the currents in a strong man's heart.)

Thus Eve: 'Nay, not lost Eden's bliss I mourn; for heavier woe than this Wears on me with one thought accursed.

IN ADAM'S LIFE I AM NOT FIRST.

(O woman's mind! what h.e.l.ls are fas.h.i.+oned there.)

'The serpent whispered Lilith's name: ('Twas thus he drove me to my shame) Pluck yonder fruit, he said, and know, How Adam loved HER, long ago.

(Fools, fools, who wander searching after pain.)

'I ate; and like an ancient scroll, I saw that other life unroll; I saw thee, Adam, far from here With Lilith on a wondrous sphere.

(Bold, bold, the daring of a jealous heart.)

'Nay, tell me not I dreamed it all; Last night in sleep thou didst let fall Her name in tenderness; I bowed My stricken head and cried aloud.

(Vast, vast the torment of a self-made woe.)

'And it was then, and not before, That Eden shut and barred its door.

Alone in G.o.d's great world I seemed, Whilst thou of thy lost Lilith dreamed.

(Oh, who can measure such wide loneliness.)

'Now every little breeze that sings, Sighs Lilith, like thy whisperings.

Oh, where can sorrow hide its face, When Lilith, Lilith, fills all s.p.a.ce?'

(And Adam in the darkness spake no word.)

SUMMER'S FAREWELL

All in the time when Earth did most deplore The cold, ungracious aspect of young May, Sweet Summer came, and bade him smile once more; She wove bright garlands, and in winsome play She bound him willing captive. Day by day She found new wiles wherewith his heart to please; Or bright the sun, or if the skies were gray, They laughed together, under spreading trees, By running brooks, or on the sandy sh.o.r.es of seas.

They were but comrades. To that radiant maid No serious word he spake; no lovers' plea.

Like careless children, glad and unafraid, They sported in their opulence of glee.

Her s.h.i.+ning tresses floated wild and free; In simple lines her emerald garments hung; She was both good to hear, and fair to see; And when she laughed, then Earth laughed too, and flung His cares behind him, and grew radiant and young.

One golden day, as he reclined beneath The arching azure of enchanting skies, Fair Summer came, engirdled with a wreath Of gorgeous leaves all scintillant with dyes.

Effulgent was she; yet within her eyes, There hung a quivering mist of tears unshed.

Her crimson-mantled bosom shook with sighs; Above him bent the glory of her head; And on his mouth she pressed a splendid kiss, and fled.

THE GOAL

All roads that lead to G.o.d are good; What matters it, your faith, or mine; Both centre at the goal divine Of love's eternal Brotherhood.

The kindly life in house or street; The life of prayer, and mystic rite; The student's search for truth and light; These paths at one great junction meet.

Before the oldest book was writ, Full many a prehistoric soul Arrived at this unchanging goal, Through changeless love, that led to it.

What matters that one found his Christ In rising sun, or burning fire; If faith within him did not tire, His longing for the truth sufficed.

Before our 'Christian' h.e.l.l was brought To edify a modern world, Full many a hate-filled soul was hurled In lakes of fire by its own thought.

A thousand creeds have come and gone; But what is that to you or me?

Creeds are but branches of a tree, The root of love lives on and on.

Though branch by branch proves withered wood, The root is warm with precious wine; Then keep your faith, and leave me mine; ALL roads that lead to G.o.d are good.

CHRIST CRUCIFIED

Now ere I slept, my prayer had been that I might see my way To do the will of Christ, our Lord and Master, day by day; And with this prayer upon my lips, I knew not that I dreamed, But suddenly the world of night a pandemonium seemed.

From forest, and from slaughter house, from bull ring, and from stall, There rose an anguished cry of pain, a loud, appealing call; As man--the dumb beast's next of kin--with gun, and whip, and knife, Went pleasure-seeking through the earth, blood-bent on taking life.

From trap, and cage, and house, and zoo, and street, that awful strain Of tortured creatures rose and swelled the orchestra of pain.

And then methought the gentle Christ appeared to me, and spoke: 'I called you, but ye answered not'--and in my fear I woke.

Then next I heard the roar of mills; and moving through the noise, Like phantoms in an underworld, were little girls and boys.

Their backs were bent, their brows were pale, their eyes were sad and old; But by the labour of their hands greed added gold to gold.

Again the Presence and the Voice: 'Behold the crimes I see, As ye have done it unto these, so have ye done to me.'

Again I slept. I seemed to climb a hard, ascending track; And just behind me laboured one whose patient face was black.

I pitied him; but hour by hour he gained upon the path; He stood beside me, stood upright--and then I turned in wrath.

'Go back!' I cried. 'What right have you to walk beside me here?

For you are black, and I am white.' I paused, struck dumb with fear.

For lo! the black man was not there, but Christ stood in his place; And oh! the pain, the pain, the pain that looked from that dear face.

Now when I woke, the air was rife with that sweet, rhythmic din Which tells the world that Christ has come to save mankind from sin.

And through the open door of church and temple pa.s.sed a throng, To wors.h.i.+p Him with bended knee, with sermon, and with song.

But over all I heard the cry of hunted, mangled things; Those creatures which are part of G.o.d, though they have hoofs and wings.

I saw in mill, and mine, and shop, the little slaves of greed; I heard the strife of race with race, all sprung from one G.o.d-seed.

And then I bowed my head in shame, and in contrition cried - 'Lo, after nineteen hundred years, Christ still is Crucified.'