Part 54 (1/2)
Then fall asleep fearless of dead days that return not; Yet dream if thou may'st that thou yet hast a hope!
--For thy dull morrow cometh and is as to-day is.
O sweet wind of the night, wherewith now ariseth The red moon through the garden boughs frail, overladen, O faint murmuring tongue of the dream-tide triumphant, That wouldst tell me sad tales in the times long pa.s.sed over, If somewhat I sicken and turn to your freshness, From no shame it is of earth's tangle and trouble, And deeds done for nought, and change that forgetteth; But for hope of the lips that I kissed on the sea-strand, But for hope of the hands that clung trembling about me,-- And the breast that was heaving with words driven backward, By longing I longed for, by pain of departing, By my eyes that knew her pain, my pain that might speak not-- Yea, for hope of the morn when the sea is pa.s.sed over, And for hope of the next moon the elm-boughs shall tangle; And fresh dawn, and fresh noon, and fresh night of desire Still following and changing, with nothing forgotten; For hope of new wonder each morn, when I, waking Behold her awaking eyes turning to seek me; For hope of fresh marvels each time the world changing Shall show her feet moving in noontide to meet me; For hope of fresh bliss, past all words, half forgotten, When her voice shall break through the hushed blackness of night.
--O sweet wind of the summer-tide, broad moon a-whitening, Bear me witness to Love, and the world he has fas.h.i.+oned!
It shall change, we shall change, as through rain and through suns.h.i.+ne The green rod of the rose-bough to blossoming changeth: Still lieth in wait with his sweet tale untold of Each long year of Love, and the first scarce beginneth, Wherein I have hearkened to the word G.o.d hath whispered, Why the fair world was fas.h.i.+oned mid wonders uncounted.
Breathe soft, O sweet wind, for surely she speaketh: _Weary I wax, and my life is a-waning; Life lapseth fast, and I faint for thee, Pharamond,_ _What are thou lacking if Love no more sufficeth?_ --Weary not, sweet, as I weary to meet thee; Look not on the long way but my eyes that were weeping Faint not in love as thy Pharamond fainteth!-- --Yea, Love were enough if thy lips were not lacking.
THE MUSIC
_LOVE IS ENOUGH: ho ye who seek saving, Go no further; come hither; there have been who have found it, And these know the House of Fulfilment of Craving; These know the Cup with the roses around it; _These know the World's Wound and the balm that hath bound it: Cry out, the World heedeth not, ”Love, lead us home!”
He leadeth, He hearkeneth, He cometh to you-ward; Set your faces as steel to the fears that a.s.semble Round his goad for the faint, and his scourge for the froward: Lo his lips, how with tales of last kisses they tremble!
Lo his eyes of all sorrow that may not dissemble!
Cry out, for he heedeth, ”O Love, lead us home!”
O hearken the words of his voice of compa.s.sion: ”Come cling round about me, ye faithful who sicken Of the weary unrest and the world's pa.s.sing fas.h.i.+on!
As the rain in mid-morning your troubles shall thicken, But surely within you some G.o.dhead doth quicken, As ye cry to me heeding, and leading you home._
”Come--pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!
Come--fear ye shall have, mid the sky's overcasting!
Come--change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!
Come--no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting, But the kissed lips of Love and fair life everlasting!
Cry out, for one heedeth, who leadeth you home!”
Is he gone? was he with us?--ho ye who seek savings Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it?
Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving; Here is the Cup with the roses around it; The World's Wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it: Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home._
_Enter before the curtain, LOVE, holding a crown and palm-branch._
LOVE
If love be real, if I whom ye behold Be aught but glittering wings and gown of gold, Be aught but singing of an ancient song Made sweet by record of dead stingless wrong, How shall we part at that sad garden's end Through which the ghosts of mighty lovers wend?
How shall ye faint and fade with giftless hands Who once held fast the life of all the lands?
--Beloved, if so much as this I say, I know full well ye need it not to-day, As with full hearts and glorious hope ablaze Through the thick veil of what shall be ye gaze, And lacking words to name the things ye see Turn back with yearning speechless mouths to me.-- --Ah, not to-day--and yet the time has been When by the bed my wings have waved unseen Wherein my servant lay who deemed me dead; My tears have dropped anigh the hapless head Deep buried in the gra.s.s and crying out For heaven to fall, and end despair or doubt: Lo, for such days I speak and say, believe That from these hands reward ye shall receive.
--Reward of what?--Life springing fresh again.-- Life of delight?--I say it not--Of pain?
It may be--Pain eternal?--Who may tell?
Yet pain of Heaven, beloved, and not of h.e.l.l.
--What sign, what sign, ye cry, that so it is?
The sign of Earth, its sorrow and its bliss, Waxing and waning, steadfastness and change; Too full of life that I should think it strange Though death hang over it; too sure to die But I must deem its resurrection nigh.
--In what wise, ah, in what wise shall it be?
How shall the bark that girds the winter tree Babble about the sap that sleeps beneath, And tell the fas.h.i.+on of its life and death?
How shall my tongue in speech man's longing wrought Tell of the things whereof he knoweth nought?
Should I essay it might ye understand How those I love shall share my promised land!