Part 6 (1/2)

THE LAST MASQUERADE

A wan new garment of young green Touched, as you turned your soft brown hair And in me surged the strangest prayer Ever in lover's heart hath been.

That I who saw your youth's bright page, A rainbow change from robe to robe, Might see you on this earthly globe, Crowned with the silver crown of age.

Your dear hair powdered in strange guise, Your dear face touched with colours pale: And gazing through the mask and veil The mirth of your immortal eyes.

THE EARTH'S SHAME

Name not his deed: in shuddering and in haste We dragged him darkly o'er the windy fell: That night there was a gibbet in the waste, And a new sin in h.e.l.l.

Be his deed hid from commonwealths and kings, By all men born be one true tale forgot; But three things, braver than all earthly things, Faced him and feared him not.

Above his head and sunken secret face Nested the sparrow's young and dropped not dead.

From the red blood and slime of that lost place Grew daisies white, not red.

And from high heaven looking upon him, Slowly upon the face of G.o.d did come A smile the cherubim and seraphim Hid all their faces from.

VANITY

A wan sky greener than the lawn, A wan lawn paler than the sky.

She gave a flower into my hand, And all the hours of eve went by.

Who knows what round the corner waits To smite? If s.h.i.+pwreck, snare, or slur Shall leave me with a head to lift, Worthy of him that spoke with her.

A wan sky greener than the lawn, A wan lawn paler than the sky.

She gave a flower into my hand, And all the days of life went by.

Live ill or well, this thing is mine, From all I guard it, ill or well.

One tawdry, tattered, faded flower To show the jealous kings in h.e.l.l.

THE LAMP POST

Laugh your best, O blazoned forests, Me ye shall not s.h.i.+ft or shame With your beauty: here among you Man hath set his spear of flame.

Lamp to lamp we send the signal, For our lord goes forth to war; Since a voice, ere stars were builded, Bade him colonise a star.

Laugh ye, cruel as the morning, Deck your heads with fruit and flower, Though our souls be sick with pity, Yet our hands are hard with power.

We have read your evil stories, We have heard the tiny yell Through the voiceless conflagration Of your green and s.h.i.+ning h.e.l.l.