THE ASCENSION DAY
So Thou hast left us and our meadows,
Lord, Who hast blessed us and our meadows—
Lord of the sorrel-hearted hay,
Lord of the pollened flowers of May.
From our fields Thou hast ascended,
Passing into the anthered light
Beyond the sun, by the winds attended—
And the Sussex fields are white
With daisies, and the diadem
Of the hawthorn crowns the hedge,
And at the blue pond’s reedy edge,
Like a broidered, silken hem
The yellow irises are blown.
Lord, Thou art gone, and gone alone.
Dost Thou think of us and our meadows,
Lord, Who hast left us and our meadows?
In shining pastures of the sky
Thou walkest, Lord, ascended high.
The stars are flowers about Thy feet,
And looking up to Thee we see
The River flowing silently—
The Milky River, broad and sweet
As Rother River here below,
While planets the dim marshes strow,
And constellations flower and fade....
O Lord, Thou hast Thy country there,
The fields and meadows of the sky,
The fields and meadows ever fair,
The dear, divine, undying glade.
At night we too walk in Thy meadows,
We walk beside Thee in Thy meadows.
At midnight I may hear Thy call,
And ride to Thee on the moon’s light—
To where the living waters fall,
And the unfading fields are bright.
The stars are flowers about our feet,
And at my side Thou art the sweet
Perfumed, eternal Breath of May....
With a sob the pale-eyed day
Wakens at the Rother’s mouth,
And back to earthly fields I go,
And back to earthly toil, and slow
Hot days of the slow, drawling South,
Toiling to keep the fields alive,
For our poor meadows cannot thrive
On just the memory of Thy feet,
Which trod them once and found them sweet.
Our tears, our sweat, must give them life,
For Thou, our Lord, hast gone on high
To golden countries of the sky,
To golden fields of golden stars,
Beyond the echo of our strife....
Yet there, upon the shining hill,
Thou dreamest of our meadows still,
And, Lord, we have Thy promise plain
That Thou wilt walk in them again.
PENTECOST
Veni Creator
Dear Heart of the Eternal Rose—
O many-coloured Heart of Fire—
That in our Lord’s green garden grows,
Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire.
Sweet Honey of the heavenly flowers,
Distilled from the white lily’s heart,
Drip on these thirsty lips of ours—
Thou the anointing Spirit art.
O Wind, down heaven’s long lanes ablow,
Warm, perfume-laden Breath of Love,
O Sweetness, on our hearts bestow
Thy blessed unction from above.
O Sun, in the mild skies ashine,
O Moon, bewitching all the night,
These dark and groping ways of mine
Enable with perpetual light.
Dear Absolution of the Sun,
Dear Quickener of the meadow’s grace,
When the day’s course of toil is run,
Anoint and cheer our soiléd face.
When evening falls and darkness creeps,
And the long starry hours have come,
And all the world is tired, and sleeps,
Keep far our foes, give peace at home.
O Sun, O Wind, O Flower, O Fire!...
Come, Holy Ghost, our souls inspire!