Part 9 (1/2)
_THE RED SUNSETS, 1883._
The twilight heavens are flushed with gathering light, And o'er wet roofs and huddling streets below Hang with a strange Apocalyptic glow On the black fringes of the wintry night.
Such bursts of glory may have rapt the sight Of him to whom on Patmos long ago The visionary angel came to show That heavenly city built of chrysolite.
And lo, three factory hands begrimed with soot, Aflame with the red splendour, marvelling stand, And gaze with lifted faces awed and mute.
Starved of earth's beauty by Man's grudging hand, O toilers, robbed of labour's golden fruit, Ye, too, may feast in Nature's fairyland.
_ON THE LIGHTHOUSE AT ANTIBES._
A stormy light of sunset glows and glares Between two banks of cloud, and o'er the brine Thy fair lamp on the sky's carnation line Alone on the lone promontory flares: Friend of the Fisher who at nightfall fares Where lurk false reefs masked by the hyaline Of dimpling waves, within whose smile divine Death lies in wait behind Circean snares.
The evening knows thee ere the evening star; Or sees thy flame sole Regent of the bight, When storm, hoa.r.s.e rumoured by the hills afar, Makes mariners steer landward by thy light, Which shows through shock of hostile nature's war How man keeps watch o'er man through deadliest night.
_CAGNES._
ON THE RIVIERA.
In tortuous windings up the steep incline The sombre street toils to the village square, Whose antique walls in stone and moulding bear Dumb witness to the Moor. Afar off s.h.i.+ne, With tier on tier, cutting heaven's blue divine, The snowy Alps; and lower the hills are fair, With wave-green olives rippling down to where Gold cl.u.s.ters hang and leaves of sunburnt vine.
You may perchance, I never shall forget When, between twofold glory of land and sea, We leant together o'er the old parapet, And saw the sun go down. For, oh, to me, The beauty of that beautiful strange place Was its reflection beaming from your face.
_A WINTER LANDSCAPE._
All night, all day, in dizzy, downward flight, Fell the wild-whirling, vague, chaotic snow, Till every landmark of the earth below, Trees, moorlands, roads, and each familiar sight Were blotted out by the bewildering white.
And winds, now shrieking loud, now whimpering low, Seemed lamentations for the world-old woe That death must swallow life, and darkness light.
But all at once the rack was blown away, The snowstorm hus.h.i.+ng ended in a sigh; Then like a flame the crescent moon on high Leaped forth among the planets; pure as they, Earth vied in whiteness with the Milky Way: Herself a star beneath the starry sky.
LOVE IN EXILE.
”Whatever way my days decline, I felt and feel, tho' left alone, His being working in mine own, The footsteps of his life in mine.”
LORD TENNYSON.
_SONGS._
I.
Thou walkest with me as the spirit-light Of the hushed moon, high o'er a snowy hill, Walks with the houseless traveller all the night, When trees are tongueless and when mute the rill.
Moon of my soul, O phantasm of delight, Thou walkest with me still.
The vestal flame of quenchless memory burns In my soul's sanctuary. Yea, still for thee My bitter heart hath yearned, as moonward yearns Each separate wave-pulse of the clamorous sea: My Moon of love, to whom for ever turns The life that aches through me.
II.
I was again beside my Love in dream: Earth was so beautiful, the moon was s.h.i.+ning; The m.u.f.fled voice of many a cataract stream Came like a love-song, as, with arms entwining, Our hearts were mixed in unison supreme.
The wind lay spell-bound in each pillared pine, The ta.s.selled larches had no sound or motion, As my whole life was sinking into thine-- Sinking into a deep, unfathomed ocean Of infinite love--uncirc.u.mscribed, divine.