Volume I Part 24 (1/2)
And then a voice, ”Why, here they are!”
And--as it seemed--we woke; The sweet old skies, great star by star Upon our vision broke; Field over field of heavenly blue Rose o'er us; then a voice we knew Softly and gently spoke-- ”See, they are sleeping by the side Of that dear little one--who died.”
PART V
THE HAPPY ENDING
We told dear father all our tale That night before we went to bed, And at the end his face grew pale, And he bent over us and said (Was it not strange?) he, too, was there, A weary, weary watch to keep Before the gates of the City of Sleep; But, ere we came, he did not dare Even to dream of entering in, Or even to hope for Peterkin.
He was the poor blind man, he said, And we--how low he bent his head!
Then he called mother near; and low He whispered to us--”Prompt me now; For I forget that song we heard, But you remember every word.”
Then memory came like a breaking morn, And we breathed it to him--_A child was born!_ And there he drew us to his breast And softly murmured all the rest.--
_The wise men came to greet him with their gifts of myrrh and frankincense,-- Gold and myrrh and frankincense they brought to make him mirth; And would you know the way to win to little brother Peterkin, My childhood's heart shall guide you through the glories of the earth._
Then he looked up and mother knelt Beside us, oh, her eyes were bright; Her arms were like a lovely belt All round us as we said Good-night To father: _he_ was crying now, But they were happy tears, somehow; For there we saw dear mother lay Her cheek against his cheek and say-- Hush, let me kiss those tears away.
_DEDICATION_
_What can a wanderer bring To little ones loved like you?
You have songs of your own to sing That are far more steadfast and true, Crumbs of pity for birds That flit o'er your sun-swept lawn, Songs that are dearer than all our words With a love that is clear as the dawn._
_What should a dreamer devise, In the depths of his wayward will, To deepen the gleam of your eyes Who can dance with the Sun-child still?
Yet you glanced on his lonely way, You cheered him in dream and deed, And his heart is o'erflowing, o'erflowing to-day With a love that--you never will need._
_What can a pilgrim teach To dwellers in fairy-land?
Truth that excels all speech You murmur and understand!
All he can sing you he brings; But--one thing more if he may, One thing more that the King of Kings Will take from the child on the way._
_Yet how can a child of the night Brighten the light of the sun?
How can he add a delight To the dances that never are done?
Ah, what if he struggles to turn Once more to the sweet old skies With praise and praise, from the fetters that burn, To the G.o.d that brightened your eyes?_
_Yes; he is weak, he will fail, Yet, what if, in sorrows apart, One thing, one should avail, The cry of a grateful heart; It has wings: they return through the night To a sky where the light lives yet, To the clouds that kneel on his mountain-height And the path that his feet forget._
_What if he struggles and still Fails and struggles again?
What if his broken will Whispers the struggle is vain?
Once at least he has risen Because he remembered your eyes; Once they have brought to his earthly prison The pa.s.sion of Paradise._
_Kind little eyes that I love, Eyes forgetful of mine, In a dream I am bending above Your sleep, and you open and s.h.i.+ne; And I know as my own grow blind With a lonely prayer for your sake, He will hear--even me--little eyes that were kind, G.o.d bless you, asleep or awake._
FORTY SINGING SEAMEN AND OTHER POEMS
_TO GARNETT_
FORTY SINGING SEAMEN