Made one with Nature, you, my Love, and I
Are reconciled; for life to us is good,
Who heard a Presence in the garden cry:
"Delve earth, smite rock, plunge pool, and cleave the wood;
There thou shalt find Me!" ... Dear, and we have found
Peace through our loyal kinsmen of the ground.
XXVIII
Companion of the highroad, hail! all hail!
Day on his shoulder flame of sunset bears,
As he goes marching where the autumn flares
A banner to the sky; in russet mail
The trees are trooping hither to assail
Twilight with spears; a rank of coward cares
Creep up, as though to take us unawares,
And find their stratagems of none avail.
Accept the challenge of the royal hills,
And dare adventure as we always dared!
Life with red wine his golden chalice fills,
And bids us drink to all who forward fared—
Those lost, white armies of the host of dream;
Those dauntless, singing pilgrims of the Gleam!
XXIX
Here have we made fair songs on psalteries
Played tenderly by lovers in all lands.
Sometimes the strings are smitten by harsh hands
Of anger, doubt, and frowning jealousies;
And sometimes are drawn forth sad threnodies
For dear Love dead. Let him who understands
Man's way with Woman loose the mystic bands
That bind my parabled heart-secrecies.
In dreams again o'er leagues of purple sea
My bark is borne to some far, fabled strand—
Dear, how the world is young! I seem to be
One of famed Helen's lovers; her command
Is in your eyes as you gaze forth from Troy—
Immortal in your beauty and your joy.