Come, I will take you to a still green place,
Where birds that hover above the laden nests,
Birds shall make song.
There shall ye wash with dew the painted face,
Press two wild flowers against the barren breasts,
There hold a vigil long.
A vigil long until the evening go,
Then sleep, long sleep; till with a shout, O then,
Our Lord the Sun shall rise.
With hearts invincible and bodies like snow,
Back ye shall turn into the place of men,
Love peerless in your eyes!
August 1918
I STANDING IN THE STREET
I standing in the street, I standing,
Gaze on the unwashed windows, dingy walls,
When lo! a clarion ...
Lo! thro' the slum a spring-time trumpet calls.
Lo! on the roofs a rose-leaf magic falls.
Thro' all the windows dance and jewels shine.
Thro' all the rooms go lissome girls with scent.
The window-frames are tendrilled with the vine.
(Ah, God! I weep in my content.)
I standing in the street, I standing,
Gaze on my vision splendid and most dear,
When lo! a chimney ...
Lo! on my dreams the soot drifts dry and sere.
Lo! all my flowers wilt in a reek of beer.
On the drab flags squat children dusty-eyed,
Cursed at by blousy women with dank hair.
Just down the street there sprawls a suicide.
(Ah, God! I laugh in my despair.)
SLUM EVENING
A dove-grey evening, dusk empearled
By lamps along the fading slums.
Out of the sky a silence comes,
A honey on the wormwood world.