PISGAH
Behold, now, I have touched the highest point
In my existence. When I turn my eyes
Backward to scan my outlived agonies,
I feel God’s finger touch me, to anoint
With this sweet Present the ungenerous Past,
With love the wounds that struck stark in my soul;
With hope life’s aching restlessness and dole;
To show me place to anchor in at last.
Like to a mother bending o’er the bed
Where sleeps, death-silent, one that left her side
Ere he had reached the flow of manhood’s tide,
So stood I by my life whence Life had fled.
But Life came back at Love’s clear trumpet-call,
And at Love’s feet I cast the useless pall.
LOVE IS ENOUGH
It is enough that in this burdened time
The soul sees all its purposes aright.
The rest—what does it matter? Soon the night
Will come to whelm us, then the morning chime.
What does it matter, if but in the way
One hand clasps ours, one heart believes us true;
One understands the work we try to do,
And strives through Love to teach us what to say?
Between me and the chilly outer air
Which blows in from the world, there standeth one
Who draws Love’s curtains closely everywhere,
As God folds down the banners of the sun.
Warm is my place about me, and above
Where was the raven, I behold the dove.
AT THE PLAY
I felt her fan my shoulder touch to-night.
Soft act, faint touch, no meaning did it bear
To any save myself, who felt the air
Of a new feeling cross my soul’s clear sight.
To me what matter that the players played!
They grew upon the instant like the toys
Which dance before the sight of idle boys;
I could not hear the laughter that they made.
Swept was I on that breath her hand had drawn,
Through the dull air, into a mountain-space,
Where shafts of the bright sun-god interlace,
Making the promise of a golden dawn.
And straightway crying, “O my heart, rejoice!”
It found its music in my lady’s voice.
SO CALM THE WORLD
Far up the sky the sunset glamour spreads,
Far off the city lies in golden mist;
The sea grows calm, the waves the sun has kissed
Strike white hands softly ‘gainst the rocky heads.
So calm the world, so still the city lies,
So warm the haze that spreads o’er everything;
And yet where, there, Peace sits as Lord and King,
Havoc will reign when next the sun shall rise.
The wheels pause only for a little space,
And in the pause they gather strength again.
‘Tis but the veil drawn over Labour’s face,
O’er strife, derision, and the sin of men.
My heart with a sweet inner joy o’erflows
To nature’s peace, and a kind silence knows.