Volume II Part 22 (1/2)
If, of the mud he clears away, Tom bears the ign.o.ble stain to-day, Come back, and he will not forget The heavens that yearn beyond us yet.
_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
V
Yet, if for this you will not come, Your friends, the children, call you home, Fairies, they wear no May-day crowns, Your playmates in those grim black towns Look, fairies, how they peak and pine, How hungrily their great eyes s.h.i.+ne!
From fevered alley and foetid lane Plead the thin arms--_Come back again!_
_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
VI
We have named the stars and weighed the moon, Counted our gains and ... lost the boon, If _this_ be the end of all our lore-- To draw the blind and close the door!
O, lift the latch, slip in between The things which we have heard and seen, Slip thro' the fringes of the blind Into the souls of all mankind.
_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
VII
Fairies, come back! Our wisdom dies Beneath your deeper, starrier skies!
We have reined the lightning, probed the flower: Bless, as of old, our twilight hour!
Bring dreams, and let the dreams be true, Bring hope that makes each heart anew, Bring love that knits all hearts in one; Then--sing of heaven and bring the sun!
_Come, little irised heralds, fling Earth's Eden-gates apart, and sing The bright eyes and the cordial hand Of brotherhood thro' all our land._
CREATION
In the beginning, there was nought But heaven, one Majesty of Light, Beyond all speech, beyond all thought, Beyond all depth, beyond all height, Consummate heaven, the first and last, Enfolding in its perfect prime No future rus.h.i.+ng to the past, But one rapt Now, that knew not s.p.a.ce or Time.
Formless it was, being gold on gold, And void--but with that complete Life Where music could no wings unfold Till lo, G.o.d smote the strings of strife!
”Myself unto Myself am Throne, Myself unto Myself am Thrall I that am All am all alone,”
He said, ”Yea, I have nothing, having all.”
And, gathering round His mount of bliss The angel-squadrons of His will, He said, ”One battle yet there is To win, one vision to fulfil!
Since heaven where'er I gaze expands, And power that knows no strife or cry, Weakness shall bind and pierce My hands And make a world for Me wherein to die.
”All might, all vastness and all glory Being Mine, I must descend and make Out of My heart a song, a story Of little hearts that burn and break; Out of My pa.s.sion without end I will make little azure seas, And into small sad fields descend And make green gra.s.s, white daisies, rustling trees.”
Then shrank His angels, knowing He thrust His arms out East and West and gave For every little dream of dust Part of His life as to a grave!
”_Enough, O Father, for Thy words Have pierced Thy hands!_” But, low and sweet, He said ”Sunsets and streams and birds, And drifting clouds!”--The purple stained His feet.--
”Enough!” His angels moaned in fear, ”_Father, Thy words have pierced Thy side!_”
He whispered, ”Roses shall grow there, And there must be a hawthorn-tide, And ferns, dewy at dawn,” and still They moaned--”_Enough, the red drops bleed!_”