Horizons and landmarks

by Sidney Royse Lysaght

THE FOREST

Far away to hills of blue,
Sunlit pastures, uplands wide,
Ways familiar, homes we knew,
Round us lay on every side
Save on one; on one alone,
Where the ancient forest spread,
Paths began with ends unknown,
Twilight loomed in daylight’s stead.

Soft as waves of summer seas
Flowing on a lonely strand,
Rolled along that wall of trees
Shining waves of meadow-land;
Bright as founts of lighted spray
Tossed against a rocky ledge,
Banks of primrose, boughs of May
Fringed the forest’s sombre edge.

Here the wild domain began
Touched not by the hand of man,
Tangled, orderless, o’er-grown,
Tended not nor reaped nor sown,
Yet majestically decked
In the robes of its neglect,
With the forms that beauty shaped
Out of its confusion draped:—
Beauty that our youthful eyes
Sought not, but in other guise
Reached us, and before our feet
With a reassurance sweet,
When the path was dark and drear
Into wonder changed our fear.
Soon the spirit of the woods
Made us creatures of its own,
Charmed us to its ancient moods,
Tuned us to its sombre tone;
Whispered in the tangled deeps,
Showed us, in the twilight rays,
Secrets that the noonday keeps,
Wonders lost on homely ways.
Where the forest creatures led
Lay our path;—the fox that crept
Through the fern, or, overhead,
Squirrels that before us leapt,
These we followed, or perchance
Startled herds that past us flew,
Leaving but an antler’s glance
Through the tree trunks for a clue.
In their wildness something stirred
Eager passion of the chase,
Made us foes of beast and bird,
Spoilers of the nesting-place;
Yet their wildness we could share,
We were creatures of the wood,
With them reached the hidden lair
Not pursuing, but pursued.
These, the wild and timid things,
Kinship in our hearts awoke,—
These we knew; but whisperings
Came of strange unearthly folk,—
Dwarfs, and Leprechauns and elves,—
Seen by others, not ourselves;
Though at times a cry’s escape,
Or a gliding shadow-shape,
Proved them near us as they stole
Out of sight from hole to hole;
Or when from the unknown track
Half afraid we hastened back,
While the night began to close
Round us and the wind arose:
Then throughout the forest stirred
Old enchantments, and we heard
Rushing wings of phantom hosts
Overhead; and whispering ghosts,
Outcasts of forgotten tombs
Wandering through the forest glooms,
Crossed our path; and demons grim
Hung on every creaking limb.
Then how glad were we to near
Homely ways and human cheer,
When, beyond the forest bounds,
Once again familiar sounds
Reached us, and the end of day
Glimmered on horizons grey,
Over uplands far away.

Golden morrows showed no mark,
Glittering pathways gave no trace,
Where those legions of the dark
Made their noonday hiding-place.
Where the elfin hosts had rushed,
Where had fallen the wizard bane
Not a flower had been crushed,
Never dewdrop had a stain.

Then an idle way we took
Where the little wandering brook,
Overflowing mossy wells,
Flashing out of twilight shades,
Beckoned us to secret dells,
Led us into fairy glades.
Here the sunlight filtered through
Woven trellises of blue,
Dropping from a sky unseen
Into hollows golden-green.
Jays, in azure flashes, slid
Out of hollows where they hid;
Golden crested wrens among
Feathery boughs of larches hung;
Gentle winds in dreaming firs
Touched æolian dulcimers;
Dancing shadows fell across
Fairy rings on floors of moss;
Over rocks of weathered grey
Tapestries of wild rose lay;
Here the forest’s magic spells
Hung on dappled foxglove bells;
Here the dreams of twilight pale,
Stealing out to golden light,
Shaped themselves in petals frail
Clothed themselves in blossoms white.

Not within the golden dell
Could we rest:—the wild and lone
Laid on us a stronger spell,
Called us to a world unknown.
Down untrodden paths would break
Gleams remote, that still foretold
New discoveries to make,
Always greater than the old.
There, beyond us, never gained,
Lay the regions of our quest,
There our wonderlands remained
Unbeholden, unpossessed;—
Wonderlands no truth could mar,
Dreams no wakening could blot,
Lovelier because so far,
Real because we found them not.

FIRST LOVE

Our treasures hardly seemed our own,
And barren our adventures were
Till comrades shared them:—one alone
I could not share.

We had no aims nor joys apart,
No secret we could long withhold:
One only, hidden in my heart,
I kept untold.