Part 24 (1/2)

Carol, every violet has Heaven for a looking-gla.s.s!

Every little valley lies Under many-clouded skies; Every little cottage stands Girt about with boundless lands.

Every little glimmering pond Claims the mighty sh.o.r.es beyond-- Sh.o.r.es no seamen ever hailed, Seas no s.h.i.+p has ever sailed.

All the sh.o.r.es when day is done Fade into the setting sun, So the story tries to teach More than can be told in speech.

Beauty is a fading flower, Truth is but a wizard's tower, Where a solemn death-bell tolls, And a forest round it rolls.

We have come by curious ways To the light that holds the days; We have sought in haunts of fear For that all-enfolding sphere: And lo! it was not far, but near.

We have found, O foolish-fond, The sh.o.r.e that has no sh.o.r.e beyond.

Deep in every heart it lies With its untranscended skies; For what heaven should bend above Hearts that own the heaven of love?

Carol, Carol, we have come Back to heaven, back to home.

_Padraic Colum_

Padraic Colum was born at Longford, Ireland (in the same county as Oliver Goldsmith), December 8, 1881, and was educated at the local schools. At 20 he was a member of a group that created the Irish National Theatre, afterwards called The Abbey Theatre.

Colum began as a dramatist with _Broken Soil_ (1904), _The Land_ (1905), _Thomas Muskerry_ (1910), and this early dramatic influence has colored much of his work, his best poetry being in the form of dramatic lyrics. _Wild Earth_, his most notable collection of verse, first appeared in 1909, and an amplified edition of it was published in America in 1916.

THE PLOUGHER

Sunset and silence! A man: around him earth savage, earth broken; Beside him two horses--a plough!

Earth savage, earth broken, the brutes, the dawn man there in the sunset, And the Plough that is twin to the Sword, that is founder of cities!

”Brute-tamer, plough-maker, earth-breaker! Can'st hear?

There are ages between us.

”Is it praying you are as you stand there alone in the sunset?

”Surely our sky-born G.o.ds can be naught to you, earth child and earth master?

”Surely your thoughts are of Pan, or of Wotan, or Dana?

”Yet, why give thought to the G.o.ds? Has Pan led your brutes where they stumble?

”Has Dana numbed pain of the child-bed, or Wotan put hands to your plough?

”What matter your foolish reply! O, man, standing lone and bowed earthward, ”Your task is a day near its close. Give thanks to the night-giving G.o.d.”

Slowly the darkness falls, the broken lands blend with the savage; The brute-tamer stands by the brutes, a head's breadth only above them.