Part 5 (1/2)

'O Mother! Mother!' whispered one, 'Why must we sleep so soon?

The sun is hidden down below, I still can see the moon.'

'Be quiet, be quiet, my little child, And watch the moonbeams creep; To-night you may not play about, For your father lies asleep.'

'O Mother! Mother!' whispered one, 'It is not time for bed!

Where have you put my little lid?

I cannot hide my head.'

'Lie still, lie still, my tiny child, Your father dear is found: We four shall never sleep again In the dark and heavy mound.'

'O Mother! Mother!' whispered one, 'How shall that ever be?

We may not bide in the light of day To watch upon the lea.'

'No need, no need, my pretty child, For your father dear has come; We'll kiss him once, we'll kiss him twice, Then seek our own far home.'

He heard them laugh with baby joy, He felt their kisses sweet, He heard the patter to the door Of their unearthly feet....

He could not stir when she bent low To kiss him on the lips-- He could not raise, to hold her fast, His anguished finger-tips;

But his heart against her silent breast Beat loud in wild despair-- He heard the swaying of her skirt, And his soul leapt forth in prayer.

A shepherd rose to call his sheep When the morning sky was gray; The owl flew back to the ruined tower-- He led his flock that way.

And lo! amid the scattered stones That the foe had strewn around, He saw his long-lost chieftain lie A corpse upon the ground.

A smile was on his breathless lips, And he lay on the flowered sward, Where his wife and babes had bled to death Beneath a traitor's sword.

WOMANHOOD

A Woman to her Poet

In three worlds King art thou of my desire, O thou of many crowns! whose brow, birth-bound With light, wears wisdom's diadem. Thou lyre Of the speechless soul, in silence triple-crowned!

My love's proud empire smiles to know thee King; And in the realms of Womanhood I wind A coronet of Faith, a blood-rose ring With azure chain of sapphire intertwined; And where the mind's pure kingdom is, I seek Bright crystals, pearls of Truth divine and rare To honour thee; but on the aerial peak That marks the Soul's eternal region--there Thou thronest Monarch of a world serene, Crowned with the emerald's unfathomed green.

The Infidel

My soul at times, outworn by length of woe, A strange appeas.e.m.e.nt seeks in doubting thee, And cries: My sacred mount's a thing as low As any hillock; shallow rolls the sea That should have quenched my deep unbounded thirst; My star's a lamp that flickers earthly light; Mere surf-worn gla.s.s my emerald; why burst, O heart! for love of these?--Then, fullest night Environs me, thou banished; stretching wide My arms, I grope for refuge; all my pain Cries babe-like for a breast whereon to hide, And on to thine I fling myself again....