The Poems of Henry Van Dyke Part 8

VI

From the prison of anxious thought that greed has builded, From the fetters that envy has wrought and pride has gilded, From the noise of the crowded ways and the fierce confusion, From the folly that wastes its days in a world of illusion, (Ah, but the life is lost that frets and languishes there!) I would escape and be free in the joy of the open air.

By the breadth of the blue that s.h.i.+nes in silence o'er me, By the length of the mountain-lines that stretch before me, By the height of the cloud that sails, with rest in motion, Over the plains and the vales to the measureless ocean, (Oh, how the sight of the greater things enlarges the eyes!) Draw me away from myself to the peace of the hills and skies.

While the tremulous leafy haze on the woodland is spreading, And the bloom on the meadow betrays where May has been treading; While the birds on the branches above, and the brooks flowing under, Are singing together of love in a world full of wonder, (Lo, in the magic of Springtime, dreams are changed into truth!) Quicken my heart, and restore the beautiful hopes of youth.

By the faith that the wild-flowers show when they bloom unbidden, By the calm of the river's flow to a goal that is hidden, By the strength of the tree that clings to its deep foundation, By the courage of birds' light wings on the long migration, (Wonderful spirit of trust that abides in Nature's breast!) Teach me how to confide, and live my life, and rest.

For the comforting warmth of the sun that my body embraces, For the cool of the waters that run through the shadowy places, For the balm of the breezes that brush my face with their fingers, For the vesper-hymn of the thrush when the twilight lingers, For the long breath, the deep breath, the breath of a heart without care,-- I will give thanks and adore thee, G.o.d of the open air!

VII

These are the gifts I ask Of thee, Spirit serene: Strength for the daily task, Courage to face the road, Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load, And, for the hours of rest that come between, An inward joy in all things heard and seen.

These are the sins I fain Would have thee take away: Malice, and cold disdain, Hot anger, sullen hate, Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great, And discontent that casts a shadow gray On all the brightness of the common day.

These are the things I prize And hold of dearest worth: Light of the sapphire skies, Peace of the silent hills, Shelter of forests, comfort of the gra.s.s, Music of birds, murmur of little rills, Shadows of cloud that swiftly pa.s.s, And, after showers, The smell of flowers And of the good brown earth,-- And best of all, along the way, friends.h.i.+p and mirth.

So let me keep These treasures of the humble heart In true possession, owning them by love; And when at last I can no longer move Among them freely, but must part From the green fields and from the waters clear, Let me not creep Into some darkened room and hide From all that makes the world so bright and dear; But throw the windows wide To welcome in the light; And while I clasp a well-beloved hand, Let me once more have sight Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land,-- Then gently fall on sleep, And breathe my body back to Nature's care, My spirit out to thee, G.o.d of the open air.

1904.

NARRATIVE POEMS

THE TOILING OF FELIX

A LEGEND ON A NEW SAYING OF JESUS

In the rubbish heaps of the ancient city of Oxyrhynchus, near the River Nile, a party of English explorers, in the winter of 1897, discovered a fragment of a papyrus book, written in the second or third century, and hitherto unknown. This single leaf contained parts of seven short sentences of Christ, each introduced by the words, "Jesus says." It is to the fifth of these Sayings of Jesus that the following poem refers.

THE TOILING OF FELIX

I

PRELUDE

Hear a word that Jesus spake Nineteen hundred years ago, Where the crimson lilies blow Round the blue Tiberian lake: There the bread of life He brake, Through the fields of harvest walking With His lowly comrades, talking Of the secret thoughts that feed Weary souls in time of need.

Art thou hungry? Come and take; Hear the word that Jesus spake!

'Tis the sacrament of labour, bread and wine divinely blest; Friends.h.i.+p's food and sweet refreshment, strength and courage, joy and rest.

But this word the Master said Long ago and far away, Silent and forgotten lay Buried with the silent dead, Where the sands of Egypt spread Sea-like, tawny billows heaping Over ancient cities sleeping, While the River Nile between Rolls its summer flood of green Rolls its autumn flood of red: There the word the Master said, Written on a frail papyrus, wrinkled, scorched by fire, and torn, Hidden by G.o.d's hand was waiting for its resurrection morn.

Now at last the buried word By the delving spade is found, Sleeping in the quiet ground.

Now the call of life is heard: Rise again, and like a bird, Fly abroad on wings of gladness Through the darkness and the sadness, Of the toiling age, and sing Sweeter than the voice of Spring, Till the hearts of men are stirred By the music of the word,-- Gospel for the heavy-laden, answer to the labourer's cry: "_Raise the stone, and thou shall find me; cleave the wood and there am I._"

II

LEGEND

Brother-men who look for Jesus, long to see Him close and clear, Hearken to the tale of Felix, how he found the Master near.

Born in Egypt, 'neath the shadow of the crumbling G.o.ds of night, He forsook the ancient darkness, turned his young heart toward the Light.

Seeking Christ, in vain he waited for the vision of the Lord; Vainly pondered many volumes where the creeds of men were stored;

Vainly shut himself in silence, keeping vigil night and day; Vainly haunted shrines and churches where the Christians came to pray.

One by one he dropped the duties of the common life of care, Broke the human ties that bound him, laid his spirit waste and bare,

Hoping that the Lord would enter that deserted dwelling-place, And reward the loss of all things with the vision of His face.

Still the blessed vision tarried; still the light was unrevealed; Still the Master, dim and distant, kept His countenance concealed.

Fainter grew the hope of finding, wearier grew the fruitless quest; Prayer and penitence and fasting gave no comfort, brought no rest.

Lingering in the darkened temple, ere the lamp of faith went out, Felix knelt before the altar, lonely, sad, and full of doubt.

"Hear me, O my Lord and Master," from the altar-step he cried, "Let my one desire be granted, let my hope be satisfied!

"Only once I long to see Thee, in the fulness of Thy grace: Break the clouds that now enfold Thee, with the sunrise of Thy face!

"All that men desire and treasure have I counted loss for Thee; Every hope have I forsaken, save this one, my Lord to see.

"Loosed the sacred bands of friends.h.i.+p, solitary stands my heart; Thou shalt be my sole companion when I see Thee as Thou art.

"From Thy distant throne in glory, flash upon my inward sight, Fill the midnight of my spirit with the splendour of Thy light.

"All Thine other gifts and blessings, common mercies, I disown; Separated from my brothers, I would see Thy face alone.

"I have watched and I have waited as one waiteth for the morn: Still the veil is never lifted, still Thou leavest me forlorn.

"Now I seek Thee in the desert, where the holy hermits dwell; There, beside the saint Serapion, I will find a lonely cell.

"There at last Thou wilt be gracious; there Thy presence, long-concealed, In the solitude and silence to my heart shall be revealed.

"Thou wilt come, at dawn or twilight, o'er the rolling waves of sand; I shall see Thee close beside me, I shall touch Thy pierced hand.

"Lo, Thy pilgrim kneels before Thee; bless my journey with a word; Tell me now that if I follow, I shall find Thee, O my Lord!"