T H E H A P P Y P R IN CE SS
A N D O THE R P O E M S
TH E
P R IN C ES
HA P PY
AND
PO EMS
O TH E R
By
A R THU R
D AV I S O N
F
IC
KE
B o s to n
S m all, M a y n a r d 69 Co m p a n y
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1 90 7
I ncorp ora ted
Lia may of c ou e ns s s
Two Cop ie s Rec e ived
AP R
8
ri g ht
1907
Entry
P res s
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f
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H E lli s C o
B o s t on , U S A
e o.
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The auth o r Wishes to th ank the E ditor of S c r i b
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n or s M a ga zi n e for co ur teo u s permission to r e
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p r i n t the maj or portion o f To F a n c y in the
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Later D ays
and also the Editor of H a rp e r s
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Maga zi n e for the same ki n dness as to Brahma
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and one of th e songs fr o m The H ap py Prin
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cess
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CO N T E N T S
TH E H A P P Y P R I N CE S S
B oo k I
B oo k II
B ook I I I
B oo k I V
B o ok V
Th e L y re
Th e E m e r al d ! a t e
Th e R o o f s o f t h e C i t y
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Th e E l d e s t P r i n c e s s
Th e S i n ge r
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P O E MS
To F a n c y i n t h e L
To F e li c i a
at e
r D ay s
To A l d e b a r a n
M a d S on g
I t a li a n
F a nt a sy
Th e R e t u
rn t o A vo n
To S l e e p
PIL
! RIM
VE R S E S
Th e D r e a m e r s
Th e
of
D z u s hi
B e l ov e d
Th e H o u
A t I se
s e of
M u r a m a dz u
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t h e P ot t e r
o
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Th e P o e t Y o s h i t h i s S o n g s
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K o b O D a i s h i 5 Fi r e
B e f o r e t h e B u d dh a
B u d dh a a t N ad i k a
T h e O l d C al l
O n a P e rs i a n Ti l e
Th e D e v i l D a n c e r s
Th e Ci t y of A m b er
Th e Wi l d D u c k
B r a hm a
B ook I
THE LYRE
In th is unqu iet, greatly forgi n g day,
What heart shall have a musi n g hour to stay
The labor of its striving, or forget
A little while the goal on which is set
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The Spirit s passio n ? Will some listener b ring
An ear subdued to harken while I si ng
My u nprete ntio us m usic of low tone,
When all his thought is throbbing with his own
Unuttered so ngs of i n timate hope or pai n ?
Nay, n o n e will hear a n d I shall sing in vain
Yet a s the deathless bards so bright of old
S ang each his dream , weaving the se cr et g old
Of fan cy in the woof, until i ts fire
Of beauty passeth all that men desire,
S o poets less imperial still shall dare
Lift u p their v oices o n the crowded air
K n owing that though the melody be frail
Yet such alone is way that ca n av ail
Eve r for bard An d th o ugh I be not he
D esti n ed to make immortal mi nstrelsy,
Yet they who love the poets of dead years
Will gi v e me grace to pou r in some few ears
A tale I choose all other tales abov e
T o wr e a th e abo ut wi th memory an d wi th l ov e
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
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Tis of a S i n ger, si n gi ng long ago
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Beside what little i nl and ri v er s flow
His quiet days were spent, o r by what r oar
Of waves upon what Gre c ian island shore
His ear was tuned to song , I c annot know
F or all his li fe was v ery lon g ago
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me
as y outh s fair
Yet this m u ch c omes to
days
Began to op en to th e myri a d ways
O u r life affo r ds ! some stain ed and some bright,
With gloomy dust o r with c elestial light ! ,
Then to h is e y es , that seemed the sweetest r oad
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Which leads to F an cy s gossamer abode
Where, m usi ng upon j oys to earth u nknown ,
The dreami ng singer walks For there alo n e
Is silence deep with meaning T here no noise
Of c ommon feet ; harsh turmoil which destroy s
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The thin and lovel y g auze of poet s dream
Came never there but in a limpid str eam
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H is Spirit s music exquisitely played,
Ti ll shy foot fawn s an d dryads from thei r shade
Of haz el or of willow oft wou l d peep ,
Or naiads r ise fro m dr ipp in g bowers of sleep
To listen
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And the singi ng i n his so u l
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Welled up and flooded o er the crystal b owl
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Of spirit, an d in moulded wor ds came forth
An d i n stran ge quiet cor n ers of the earth
Men , little lear n ed, san g his so n gs agai n
Be neath the su nset or the risi n g Wai n
A s they turned home
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The years passed over him
Lightly and little weepi n g came to dim
His eyes an d all of sorr ow that he k n ew
W a s rather guessed than deeply felt as true
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Yet many thi ngs his poet s heart di vined,
An d far off death cast shadows on his mi n d
A n d o n ce , at time when rains began to fall,
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He made this so n g, hi s heart s Confession al
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I am a singer and I se t
My steps where dews of dawn are wet,
A n d wander where dusk shadows steal
Or where the constellations wheel
Throu gh heav en And I cann ot tell
Why I should lov e so passing well
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Life s winds, and find the common ways
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S O trivial to my S pirit s days
This o nl y k n ow I,
that my heart
Thirsts for the place s lo n e apart
Perfectly glad to do n o thi n g
S av e of their se c re t deeps to sing
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Perhaps it is a b itter j est
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Of life,
to lead me from the best
Our u nretur n ing days afford ;
An d tempting me with dream of Lord
Of F a n cy , s e t a wall between
Mi n e ey es and all the happy gree n
Meadows of actual living S till
Though this be s o, the lyric hill
Is all my home F or there I weave
So ngs that I fondly wo u l d believ e
May l a st a little, afte r s u n
And moon hav e chanted orison
P eacefull y over my low bed,
R ising an d setti n g where are shed
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The flowers that shall wave o er me
When I shall sleep eternall y
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So o n the midnight s lamplit hour
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I pour my spirit s trembling power,
I n hO p e each wing ed phan ta sy
Out of the ardent mind may be
Embalmed i n the amber gloom
Of poesy s immortal tomb
N ot such a grave as where we lay
The mortal embers cold away ;
But a warm shrin e, where every beam
O f later su n shall p ierce with gleam
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
A n d quivering movements sweeping over it
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Trembled its frame, as when o er waters flit
P assing of winds that ruffle with white feet
The placid surface A n d a music sweet
Began to ki n dle, filled with some strang e power,
Like that of poets in their mystic hour,
Whe n a stro n g other presence seems to take
C omman d upo n the so u l
An d then it spake,
S i nging
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O broth er who h as t thr il le d
My soul to life, that it is filled
With sen se of far off mysteries
A n d stirri ngs from the greater seas ;
When we are p as t the setting sun
D ays shall seem precious, every o n e ;
How shall we look back wholly glad
If now we linger, rapt and sa d ?
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Brother, I hav e been with thee when
We san g the pageantry of men
A n d battle an d resou n ding dee ds,
Of love an d all its lovi n g needs,
O f toil an d mighty weari n ess
E ach j oy an d struggle that could bless
The earth of me n, the sea of ships,
H as been in song upon our lips
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THE HAP P Y PRINCESS
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And yet, 0 b rother heart, meseems,
Beyo n d the covert of ou r dreams,
As if from life the re m ight be wrun g
Mu s ic more sweet than we have sung ;
Lovelier an d more kee nly dear
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Than that which fills the Spirit s ear ;
With tones more deep , that well mi ght b e
The hoar de d j oy of memor y
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Why may we not go forth, my b rother,
Unto the great unlighted sk y ;
Tho u an d I, an d no heart other,
T o feel togethe r b efore we die
That whole whose glimpses, si ngin g, we
H ave foun d so precious of desire
Yea this one thi n g I ask of thee,
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Who am thy brothe r and thy lyr e
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An d as i t ceas e d, th e S inger mi nde d him
H o w all his days had p as sed beneath the di m
And haunted shades of fan cy ; that delight
Of struggle, or attainment, or black night
Of fail ure were as thi ngs a dream h as shown ;
Felt, understood, but ne v er quite his own
Lon g had he loved such maids as Helen fair,
And E as tern princesses wi th tawn y hair,
A n d walk e d with ladies from a fae ry land
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
But whe n yet had he touched a livi n g han d ?
The n thi nkin g upon this, he stirred the stri n gs
With lovi n g touch, and to their wh isperings
Cr ie d
To the fields we will go forth
A n d prove the weakness or the worth
Of so ngs that we s o lo ng have sung,
I f they will comfort u s amo n g
C old cities an d unfavorin g fields,
And take what cheer the si ngi n g yiel ds
Brother, together we shall rove,
A n d lear n perchan ce of j oy and love
S ome little that we had n ot guessed,
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W e who have lean ed on Helen s breast
I n fan cy Yea, the world is wide,
And earth is flushing with Springtide
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B ook I I
THE EMERAL D GATE
Ther e was a city of high golden walls
M en said its gates were chisell ed emeralds
But some believed the gree n fires of the daw n
R ose fro m the l p e s these towers were builded
on,
And, lit afresh each morn and evenin g, came
T o guar d the city with a door o f flame
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Like Spring s pale Splendors A n d th e night
win ds se t
T hei r stars upon its walls Its feet were wet
W ith quiet r ipples of a se a whose marge
N 0 m an had touched Withi n, a palace large
And of high Sple n dor worthily was house
U nto a k i ng upon whose sile n t brows
Was se t the d o ub le c rown of E ast and West
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Thi the r the S inger cam e upon his quest
Of hours more beautiful an d life more warm
An d with his l yre at rest upon his arm,
Paused at the threshold of the Emerald Gate ;
A n d the n, with seeki n g and with youth elate,
Entered an d, passi n g in the busy crowd,
M ov i n g thro ug h cour ts where fountain j ets wer e
loud
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
In rounded b as ins of the cool v ei n ed j ade,
Went onward to the hall whose porches m ade
A shining marble pillared colo nn ade
Looking thr ough spaces of the c olumns tall ,
The O utside world seemed lightened of its pall
Of dinginess ; and field and sun and tree
Were folded in some b rilliant witcher y,
That made the heart glad with the little b ay ,
And cleared the wor ds the hill winds tried
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53 6 7 ;
An d gav e each glimpse of sea or winding road
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Personal consonance with man s abode
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H e entered and be c ause his dress was trim,
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A n d youth s and music s brig htness played o e r
him,
And si n ce his singing was s o passin g sweet
They gave to him a lofty golden seat
At the high table of the silent ki n g,
Who g azed at hi m with pleasant wonder i ng
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On eithe r hand at that great table sate
Stern mi n isters, and ladies of high state,
An d n obles of the blood A n d there was one
About wh ose head the glow of summer su n
Seemed visible,
the pri n cess A n d a flame
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Of the earth s glory fli cke r ed where she came
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
I k now not in what subtle words to si ng
Th at to the sight of others I may bri n g
This splendi d pr i nc ess with bright golden hair
N 0 ma n who s a w m ight call this prin cess fair
If with that wor d he h ad named other maid
Of earth S u ch beauty maketh each afraid
Lest lookin g he m ay shatte r it like gleam
Of r ai nbow bubble on so m e d ancing stream
Each perfum e dr ifted fro m th e dr eam i n g South
S eemed mingle d in the smil in g of her mouth
E ach b eam of fire a sta r she ds as it dies
W as m et to m ake the glory of her eyes
And old men, watching where her figure moved,
Wept, hear ing long dead v oices they had loved
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And the y oung S inger, seeing such a form
As hers, clothed r oun d with r ose mists soft an d
war m
L i k e those that d awn o ve r the meadow weaves,
Was stri ck en silent ; as o n e who long believes
In powe rs divi ne, yet when a miracle
At last appears, doubts what his senses tell
Each song of beauties dead so lo n g ago,
E ach tale of dear loves underneath the s n ow
Each melody that b reathes of garde n closes,
Full of the trembling passion of the roses ,
All these, and e very hoarded hope were cryin g ;
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THE HAPPY P RINCESS
And each remembered lay of love u n dyin g
D i z zil y came, like clouds at twilight flyin g,
Upgathered i n a single bli n din g gleam,
Showeri n g with te n derness from every dream
That oft had wavered i n his random singi n g
And dumb he stood, knowi n g that life was
bri n gin g
At last a form that on real earth did move
To deck with all the splen dors of hi s love
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H e looked n ot ever at the pageantry
He heard n o voice of all the min strelsy
F or sight an d se n se i n dreami n g trance were
bound,
And win ged thought mo v ed its tumultuo us
round
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Of sudden love an d exaltatio n s flame
As if, in some far garde n, rou n d o n e n ame
Spirits did hover, an d conti nually
Make ado r ation of stran ge melody
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And m any a day in shadow of those halls
H e tarried, like the Knight a spell e nthralls
When, wan deri n g lo n e the meads a t eveni ng,
He hears the calling faery voices si ng
F or v oi ces of the air o r of the earth
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Who from his heart lo v e laden
S ang madr ig als of old
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Yo u ar e the prisoned prin c ess
W hose love enraptured lips
Wrought so n gs that made gr eat p ri n ces
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S ail o er the s e a in ships
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Yo u ar e the queen of r ev els
And I the lo v er poor
We through the sunrise l e vels
Fled far a cr oss the moo r
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M y lo v e, th e ri pp l e dan c es
Alo n g the quiet san d
And where yon moonlig ht glan c es,
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There is o ur faeryland
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Wh en he had done, the p ri n c ess said no wo rd,
B ut looked at hi m as one who j ust h ad heard
Some pleasant son g might look at any bard
And smile the s weetness of her soft r eward
Even su ch sweetness was too magical
With b eauty not to b ri n g in swift recall
The whole stored longing of a hu n dred S prings
And stir within hi s blood r e m e mb e r i n gs,
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T H E HAP PY PRIN CES S
Vague an d el usive as if he somewhere
Had died of old fo r lo v e of the bright hair
Of a forgotte n woman, whom n ew birth
Made real o n ce more upon the Sprin gtide earth
An d for ces deeper than his single mi n d
Swept him like petals on the great S outh Wi n d,
Till hi s whole bei n g whirled in a peopled mist
An d sudden ly upo n the brow he kissed
The princess, foldi n g to his reckless breast
H er young frail bosom ; cl as ped her hands an d
pressed
Them to him
and sank ba ck, benumbed a nd
blind,
Trembling like petals on the great South Wind
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A n d such a silen c e on the woodlan d grew
As seemed to make a barrier rou n d these two,
Shutting them in with viewless walls of glass
Fr om e very sound that through the world did
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From ever y tho ught o r d r eam of what m ight
move
Bey o n d the stillness of the twilight grov e
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Then o e r his head he heard the stirri n g air,
A n d felt the touch of fi nge rs o n his hair,
A g entle to u ch that seemed to come and pass
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T HE H APPY P RIN CES S
Like his ow n breath tremblin g the tender gras s
And in his ear a whispe r
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Dear one, let
This ho ur g o b y fo r e v er, and forget
F orget me if you will ; yea, that were m eet
Si n ce I h ave made this pathway for your feet
Yet I were l oath to have you quite lose thought
Of me and of the sweetness you have brought
I too have loved, not with su c h love as smites
Its fire upon the sou l , but with soft lights
Of te n der n ess
D ear o n e, no more c an be
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S ave onl y this ever fo r y ou and me
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An d he looked slowly i n her eyes an d said
The light of my whole life is round your head,
S o that with you my living hours mu s t bide
Or else g o wanderi n g i n to eventide
You onl y g ive the m eaning to this dream
Of earthly days, where pallid mist lights stream
I n chaos save for you Upon your form
The dizzyin g beams find g oal ; and lighte d,
warm,
I se e you in the whirlwind of their fire ,
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You who give house to the soul s lost desire ,
You, the o n e lamp u n der whose glow unfold
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Life s hi dde n p ag es writ in se cret gold
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THE HAPPY PRIN CESS
A n d if you go , dusk comes to blur the li n e
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That had been porte nt of your life an d mi ne
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Piti fully look ing in his eyes, sh e laid
Her han d on his , and quiveri n g an swer made
What am I, that u n guessi n g I h ave stirred
This i n your heart ? N ever remorseful word
Shall make forgiveness for me Oh, forget
All y ou hav e dreamed F or me, my path is se t
Toward other life this is not mine to take
Go for it is a dream whe n ce you will wake
Go , sin ce th e e n d has come no m ore can be
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S ave o nl y this ever for you and me
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Whereon he answered, low and tremblingl y
What other mean in g has there bee n in Spr in g
That for so man y years made whisperin g
O n my deaf ears ? A n d n ow the m ean i ng goes
”
And in one hour blosso ms and dies the rose
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And then it ended With one strained emb race
He tu r n ed an d fl e d out from the haunted place
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An d through the woo dl and s leafy flickering
shade
Sped o n , as though his heart were too afraid
Of what de a r wraiths were followi ng on behind
To dare to turn ag ai n The eve n in g win d
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T H E H APPY PRI NCES S
Began to rise, and breathed its tende r c all
Over the forest, fai ntly musi cal
The birds commen c ed to si n g their twilight song
A n d in the fields the shadows laid thei r long
! uivering fin gers on the folding bloom
Of lilies lulled to slumber by the boom
Of heavy winged beetles as they pas sed ;
A nd fireflies rose flickering from the gras s
A n d the l as t redness of the western gleam
Faded on the c ool b oso m o f ea ch str eam
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B ook I I I
TH E R OOF S O F T HE CITY
Kno w y ou that ancie n t b attlemented town,
With roo fs a crumble a n d walls tur n i ng brown
Ben eath their ivy, on whose norther n gate
The Lion with the Truncheon r amps in state
Upon h is shield of dim heraldic gold ?
A mo u l deri n g town , grow n now s o v ery old
That it forgets its youth ; and like a cro n e
Over her hearth fi r e , mumbles dreams alon e
Not fai r dreams, but the petty questio n i n gs
That burr and babble as the k ettle sin gs
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T o such a place the S inger dr ifte d on
Through field and city, aimless and alone
And in the e n d, sore weary, fou nd him house
In an old slanting atti c whose dark brows
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Frowne d o e r the street
Yet wh en the d ay did
wane
With le v el su n , and through each l eaded pane
Poured y ellow light, then were he loath to change
H i s wi n dow on the roofs fo r the whole rang e
Of royal gardens Over gables high
Sharp black agains t the fadi n g western sky ,
O ver old chimneys curling fo r th a haze
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TH E HAPPY PRINCESS
Of thin blue smoke, he watched the ending
days
S i nk to their low red line o f deepening glow,
An d in his heart would ever come and go
The chan gi ng pictures of those days that se t
Visio ns before the eyes too often wet
An d in the twilight he would live an e w
The love that silen t i n his spirit grew ;
F eedi n g remembrance with each h our an d
place,
Ea ch look that on c e had play ed u pon her fa ce,
E ach glory that had lighted in her eyes
An d sometimes sudde nly a flood would rise
Withi n his heart to bear him, pale and lost,
To such a s e a o f lo n gi ng that no cost
Of life or death seemed anythin g to pay
F or one word spoken in the old dear way
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B ut as the days wore on, and moon by moon
The summer passed, the immemorial boon
Of peace stole on him
N ot forgetful ness ;
F or more than all life held he still wo uld p r ess
Un to his i n most heart that memory
S weeter than e v er aught again mi ght be
Let come thereafte r whatsoever may,
Youth still is right in cli ngi n g to the day
Of its first love ! by some dim sense it k nows
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THE HAPPY PR INCESS
!
But now that the love is o ver,
With all that the days might b r ing,
What j oy to the lonely lover
”
In Spring and the R ose of S prin g ?
And as he ce as ed, he heard a little n oise
Outside hi s window, and a shrinking voi ce
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S aid,
S ir, may I not l isten ?
Next his own ,
There hun g a cas ement b al cony, alone
In all the street for being decked with bloom
Of flowers ever Now, from his dim room,
He peered i n to the dusk, a n d saw a face
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Pale and half frighted, looking o e r the space
Between them S uch a r uddi n ess o f mouth
Might have been b rought to blossom in the S outh ;
But the shy ey es, the whiteness of he r br ow,
Were such as no earth mag i c could endow
S ave windy n orthern lands, where Beauty broods
And flees from Mad n ess through waste solitudes
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A woman s mouth ; and eyes that s c ar c el y k new
The wisdom o f a woman, save that through
Their depths that light would swiftly come and go
Whereby the soul knows more tha n it c an know
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Gladly shall you be listener to my lays,
The S inge r said
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THE HAPPY PRIN CES S
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Now for s o man y days,
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She answered, have I heard you, an d co u l d bear
N 0 lo nger like an eavesdroppe r to wear
A m ask of sile n ce For your si n ging fills
My heart like sum mer light between the hills
It is so stran ge,
s o wo n derful a thing ;
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How have y ou learned such mel o dies to sing ?
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And he made k indly ans wer
!
Wh y, meseems,
We weave o u r singing as a link of dreams
To pierce beyo n d ou r n arrow lo n eli n ess
When m ists of night an d silence seem to press
Bli n dingly on the heart And the n our so n g
Is like a chai n which stretches far alo ng
I nto the outer plan etary air,
To uching perhaps some star, n one k n oweth
where
I do not thin k that such things can be taught ;
I k n ow that never hoarded gold has bought,
With all the splendid pomp of E as ter n seas,
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The secret to u chstone of these mysteries
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!
And she said slowly
I hav e k n own too well
That lo n eli n ess ; but I could n ever tell,
Though I had wished it, u n to an y o n e
H ow much the v oi celess S pirit, being alo ne,
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Yearn s for its chain to the peopled outer spaces
Of lighted Sky an d the great open places
I felt it ever , though I had no words
Un til the day I heard your chanted chords
I felt it
yea, not eve n you can k n ow,
Yo u in whom so n gs and strength of si n gi n g
glow ;
You know n ot how our buried lo n gi ngs sin g
”
Although our voices chan t not a n y t hl n g
.
.
.
A nd then , givi n g n o pause for his reply,
S he hurried o n, eager, but trembli ngly !
There is s o much to tell to you ! o n e hour
C an n ot contain it ! y et the very power
Of what it is forces it into o n e,
Which must be risi n g so n g and requiem
Once only may I se e you,
I who heard
Of your sweet S i n gi n g every breath ed word
That I may tell y o u what your so n gs have made
’
For one who moves i n the world s sile nt shade
What worship has bee n poured, what secret dew
Of love has fallen, though you never k n ew
H ow all my so ul has flowed i n music sweet
A n d flun g itself in passion at your feet
—F or ah, I k now y ou r heart s o passi n g well !
S i n ce I hav e h oar ded ev ery note that fell
-
.
.
24
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Fresh from your lips
such heart I did n ot
k n ow
’
Am id earth s darkened lo n eliness could grow
—I tell it you, who are s o far above
The dim e n tan gleme nts of strugglin g l ove
’
That I may speak my soul s most secret word
Al most as if to hi m , the Blessed Lord
Yo u are the l i ght each risi n g mor n would seek ,
An d fi n ds n ot i n the world ; so that, grown weak
A n d weary with its search, it si nks to rest
Beyond the mountai ns foldin g i n the West
Y o u are the secret beauty too divi n e
’
Often amid earth s cruelties to shi ne
And I give tha nks as to a Shi n i n g god
Made man ifest upo n the dark lin g road
A god whom I might love as it is give n
To some few souls to love the lights of Heave n
A n d in that love has melted all my pride,
”
And to hav e told you thi s, I would have died
.
.
.
.
.
And
then
wide
she
fled ; and the night lay still a n d
.
Not an y day thereafte r did he s e e
That sle n der form upo n her balcony
But oft en whe n the lyric passio n stirred
H i s sin g ing l ips, he somehow k n ew S he heard
.
25
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
A n d greatly did he mar v el at it all,
T hi nki n g
I kno w my song is musical
W ith sweetness that might well e n thrall the sens e
With its u ng u essed and shadowy eloque n ce ;
’
But tis most stran ge her fanc y should have se t
My form upon a height which never yet
An actual man has won Too well I know
That I am not a g od, but here below
Struggle i n dust of mortal frailties
A n d rarely loo k upon the sacred seas
Of fair Apollo —
What a m ystery
Is love, that it can build its history
Upo n an unreal dream, and then c e uprear
Its Shini n g turrets, till the sunlight clear
Gilds the high bastions with a crown of fire
S trange love ; strange weavi n g of a blind desire
In S pi der web around a branch O f pine
Un til, tr ans formed, the di ngy b osses Shine
”
W ith r ainb ow c ol o rs
!
.
.
.
-
.
As a tempest str ok e
Suddenly b lasts a hollow shell of oak
That lon g has secr etly been mouldering thr ough
—
Though strong to outward look , so smote a new
’
Revealing light upon the S inger s min d
And for a dizz y mome n t in the wind
.
26
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Swayed the fair tree that was his love of yore ,
And then fell , gaping to its hollow core
.
I too, — y ea, I too, r ear e d m e such a dream !
’
Ar ou n d a woman s for m I wove the gleam
’
Borrowed from sun r ise, an d the night s proclaim
I min gled with the mu s ic of he r name
I saw her eyes ; and in the empty blue
I made each lon ging of the heart c ome true
A n d I have loved not her, b ut that bright shade
”
Whi ch out of d reams m y tenderness has made !
!
.
.
And half agh as t, he sa w the end draw
T o the ill usion of his ecstasy
Yet half in gladness
if the lo v ing yoke
Were bubble magi c, better it were broke
S wiftly than if it still should lead him on,
T o fail at l as t when h e was old and lone
.
.
Ponderin g these th i ng s, weary of the town,
H e rose one m orn ; and out across the down
On c e m ore he tur ned his footsteps, wayfarin g
With the old feeling that new paths would bring
Perhaps some revelation Man y days
H e held his cou r se through unfrequented ways
W ith wonderin g tho ughts fo r what hi s days had
.
27
THE H APPY PRINCESS
With pity for the love that he had brought
All uns uspecti n g to a lo n ely m aid ;
A n d on an d on along the world he strayed
The passin g of swift time he did not heed
Winte r was gone ; and then the greeni n g mead
’
Ripe n ed through S ummer to S eptember s old
Familiar warmth of hazy western gold
W hen late in Autumn, o n the su nn y hills
Of afternoon, a S in gle cricket shrills
More loud for bei n g alone when blue j ays call
Their hoarse complaint ; when whirling red leav es
fall ,
A n d the b u s y squirrel amon g his granaries
Chatters at the i n truder from the trees
When swallows fly above the fri n ged wood,
B lack sailing Specks against the v iolet flood
Of light to westward, till the r ising mist
Deepens its Shadows into amethyst
And golde n flakes, and one lo n g cloud g oes b y
Like a fiery feather on the dimming Sky !
Then would he muse and ponder ; a n d the days
S tole by him sile n tly a n d still the ways
Of life seemed O peni n g to no fi n al goal
Where, at the end, mig ht r es t the seek i n g soul
.
.
.
.
28
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
With mu s ed interp retation of things seen,
With scruti ny of each too fl u tt e r i n g dream,
H e fo u nd within his heart new tender n ess
Fo r every livi n g thing Small need to dress
W ith light u n real the happenings of earth,
S ince n aught of common nor of trivial worth
C o u l d he discover in the world that shed
I ts sadness and its b eauty r o und hi s head
-
.
.
One day he c ame unto a m ou ntain town,
With hang ing c astles looking steeply down
Upon the me adow v alleys A n d some whi m
Led him to climb up through the forests dim
And rocks an d streams to where the city sate
With tall, dark towers and m assive armored
g ate
And in the palace of the r ulin g lord
R ight merrily u nto the festal board
W as he wi th a ll r ej oici n g featly led
For fame of his sweet song had go n e ahead
A n d wrought his wel c ome And the l ord did
pray
He tarry with the m for a y ear an d d ay
-
-
.
.
.
.
I n that great h o u s e were man y noble forms
Of carven mail and b lazo n ing of arms
And reli ques of the glory of past y ears
.
30
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Amid these trophies mov ed, as later peers,
F ull many a lord and lady of degree
A n d mu ch of pagean t an d sweet mi ns trelsy
But fairer than all other things was se t
Upon the palace, like a coronet
Of pearls, the princesses, a r oun ded sev en
’
And in the mus ic of a so n g s sweet steven
Thei r v oices were the clearest an d no thin g
Mo ved in those halls sav e for their pleasuri ng
.
.
.
And o f th e seven starry prin c esses,
The ways and mann ers of their days were
these
The first smile d e v er, and with glad surprise
Watched life unfold b efore her eager eyes
The seco n d was most s a d for She had seen
’
L ife s was tes, a n d now forgot the meads between
’
The thir d m oved c almly thr o ugh her life s e s
tate,
Nev e r qu ite sa d an d nev er qui te elate,
W ith face that men c alled often chill and old
The fourth found happiness in sple n did gold
Of sweeping gowns that on the carpet rolled
Their trains like peac o cks proudly wanderi n g
The fifth, men said, was sure a wildwood thi n g
Strayed i n to h uman form For She would start,
And with wi l d e yes turn shi ver i n g from her part
.
.
.
.
.
31
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
I n o r de red custom And a dr eamful stir
A s of the forest qu i v ered over her
T he S ixth was plighte d to a noble lo r d ;
A n d her whole life was r uled b y sweet a c cord
With ev ery b reath of his At d u s k o r dawn
H e r lo v e wo v e fo r him c easeless orison
The s e v enth, who was eldest, stoo d apar t,
An d no man k new the chambers o f h er heart,
S ave o nl y that she mo ved serene and proud,
Leadi n g each r e v el of the palac e crowd ;
That never was her voice c as t down or s a d
And none, from lord to little serving l a d,
A si ngle quality of he r m ight tel l
S av e c al m and lo v ely and ins cr utabl e
.
.
.
.
-
.
-
.
Am i d th em a ll the S ing er silent moved
The y ou n gest looked upon his face a n d loved
But h e obser v ed it not, s o rapt was h e
In some old wan dering o f phantasy
But to the eldest three his steps oft led
An d though the W ildwood Princess sometimes
fled,
And though the Plig hte d Pr i n cess oft woul d
stray
In other tho ughts, yet came he e v e r y day
Un to their b alco n y, there to rehearse
S ome an c ient m elody, or hol d c onv erse
.
.
32
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
With the eldest pri n cess i n high pleasan t wise,
While e v er smiles played in her cloudless eyes
.
The eldest princess was a c ur ious deep ,
Mist girt, traili n g as if from dreamful sleep
Some u n imagin able lovely thi n g
I k n ow not if i n fl oo d tide of her S pring
She could have been more beautiful than now
When Summer ripeness of each leaf an d bough
T rembled toward Autumn For a score an d ten
Of y ears had she b ee n love d b y cou ntless men ;
Yea, even i n her cradl e did men know
I n that far time, full thirty y ears ago,
That sh e was desti n ed to be lovable
A n d though all marvelled, yet n o lips c ould tell
Why still aloof her pleasan t life sh e led
And moved sweet, se lf e n fold e d, a n d unwed
-
.
-
.
.
~
.
Oft times the S in ger lovingly would n ote
The soft firm whiten ess of her curvin g throat,
The droopi ng of her lashes that wou l d veil
—
Her thoughts from him, the hands s o fir m and
pale
And the dark b eauty of her bended head,
For all its stren gth a little weari ed
Perhaps with dumb recurre n ce of the days
And g uarded pacing of the clear high ways ;
-
,
33
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Or else, perhaps, feeling the weight of cold
A utum n, an d k n owi n g She must soon be O l d
Oft times in the rose garden they wo u l d walk ,
Some two or three together ; but her tal k
Seemed to him ever a s a mist between
H i m and the deeps hi s ey es would fain have see n
.
-
-
I t chan c ed that on a certain festal night
The lor ds and ladies, i n glad raimen t dight,
Were gathered g ayly in the ban quet hal l
To listen to the S i ngi ng mu s i c al
Of the seven pri n c esses S weetl y they san g
Together, that the arched v au l ti ng rang
With melody ; and these were the few words
’
Sun g to the singer s softly fingered chords !
.
The R ose shall g o away,
And the Nightingale b e still,
A n d a silence shroud the hill
F or the lo v es of yeste r day
!
.
But if h is r aptu r o us singing
H as trembled in her ears,
Shall not his smiles an d tears
S till u nto her go winging ?
!
A n d if her sweets have been
H is sola ce and h is pain,
34
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Shall not her blo om again
Shi n e through his covert green ?
F or the R ose shall go away
An d the N ightin gale S h a ll ce as e
B ut dea th gives n ot relea se
”
To the l ove of yesterday
.
.
And all the lords and ladies smiled a n d
said
’
’
Tis sweet, tis exquisite That rose of red
The youngest pri n cess wears is well design ed
To grace her hair
A n d where may an y fi n d
F orm lovelier than that of the Plighted Maid ?
The Wildwood P ri n cess seemeth half afraid
”
Of her ow n beauty
Speaki ng thus, they we n t
Out of the hall with courteous argumen t
An d laughi n g voices A n d their fading to n e
Left in the hall the Singer quite alone
.
.
.
.
.
The palace was g irt round with balconies
Broad, hangin g high above the garde n trees
Where breathed low voices in each n ight of ! u n e
But n ow in autumn dusk, the rou n ded moon
’
Rose over them like S ile n ce 5 own form
With close drawn robe an d pallid ben ded arm
Movin g auste re alon g her rightful halls
Here c ame the S in ger, with such thought a s calls
.
-
.
35
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
F or hush of S ilen ce an d the night s wide space
To understan d its own t r a ns fig u r e d face
’
.
A n d as he came, he saw agai n st the Sky
The eldest pri n cess lean i n g wearily,
Close by a pillar He drew near, an d stood
Beside her, S ilen t, save what beat his blo o d
Made in him But sh e still was m o ti o nless
An d the n ight wi n d stirred gently i n her dress
And neither spake
.
.
Till from the golde n stri n gs
The Sin ger touched a soun d of murmuri ngs
Wonderfully s a d an d distan t ; drifti n g on
Into the low breathed music of his song
-
The Princesses were S i ngi n g
Before the belted Lords,
Heads high , with Sweet lips ringi n g,
And the Mins trel gave the words
!
.
But the Eldest Pri n cess o nl y
Li n gered upon each n ote ,
A n d a beauty stran ge an d lo n ely
Was o n her soft white throat,
!
A beauty that half was sadness,
’
Or full bloomed Summer s pai n,
-
36
TH E
HAPPY PRINCESS
Tis a n old an d well worn story,
But I thi nk that it o n ce came true
F or I k n ow the dream of the Pri n cess,
A n d the Pri n cess who dreamed was y ou
’
-
.
”
.
H e ceased, half trembli n g Not a faintest stir
Showed him that life was still alive in her
Motio n less stood she, as sh e had not heard
Of his stran ge S i n gi n g a n y si ngle word
At last did she upraise
A n d he was dumb
Her eyes, a n d looked at him with lo ng slow gaze
Brimmi ng with tears
.
.
.
.
.
S uch light was in her face
chose n men se e in a holy place
Whe n g o ds come down to lead them to some g oal
Beyo n d all v ision of the mortal soul
As
.
This you have told to me, how co uld y ou
k n ow
N o o n e has u n derstood S o long ago
I Shut up in a cas ket a ll desires
—
love
a
n
d
j
o
all
hope
of
starry
fires
F or
y,
I once believed i n A n d you come again
To stir the old time ecstasy of pai n
A n d faith in d reams I thought were s urely
”
d ead
!
.
.
-
.
38
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
She paused a little, an d then softly said,
!
Yea, heart s dear frie n d, y ou only u n der
stood
What none, perhaps, save o n e or two hearts
could,
The empti n ess where h O p e of love is go n e,
An d life in barre n chann els must fl o w o n
’
.
An d then the beauty of her lean ed arm,
H er curvi ng throat s o palpitant a n d warm
F illed him wi th mastery of the fin al flame
F o r which earth k n ows no holy e n ough name
A h, ca n it n ot be ?
So that he whispered,
And the n at o nc e he knew that foolishly
He had spoken
;
.
B ut m ost ten derly She said
!
Nay, cr owns of laurel m us t be on your head
I n bloom of manhood whe n my hair is white
An d fro m mine eyes has faded an y light
That now m ay linger You would l ove me still
’
But c ould I bear to s e e youth s pulses fill
Yo ur b eing when my love fi r e Should be cold,
An d k now your tenderness to one grow n old
.
-
!
And he made wh ispered an swer
My desire
Is lit I think , from an u n fadi n g fire
The long days cannot dim it, n or the nigh ts
.
,
39
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Outshine its clearness with thei r my riad lights
Yonder in heaven —Yet I wi ll not press
On you o n e breath of its g reat tenderness
”
If thu s it stirs y o ur p itiful s weet tears
.
.
An d
she
c rie d l ow,
!
The years, the weary
years
Ah, I am ma d to night, that I c an dr eam
E ven a moment —Nay, there flows a stream
Impassable b etween us for my fate
Calls me to l ife o f r igid lofty state
An d y o u m u s t wan der ove r the free world,
A n d i n no h arb or m ay y our sail b e furled
S ave the dream hav en where all b eauties c ome,
Desires and v isions , turnin g gladly home
You shall g o from me for we two h av e seen
Deeper in life than the elusive sheen
Of what each heart would dream, yea, and
would give
”
All its own hope if but the dr eam might li ve
-
.
-
.
.
He would have S pok en ; b ut all elo quen ce
Faded before her a n d a sudden sense
Of deeper mean ing came as silence r
Of the wild words he woul d have crie d to her
A se nse of wisdom in those sa d cal m eyes
That dared loo k clearl y on fixed destinies
,
.
40
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Between them passed n o si ngle word of love
Onl y sh e said, with lips that trembled of
!
Their passio n ate calmn ess,
Yea, I too have
seen
Wh at marvel might have dawned if I had been
’
Born later, or your desti ny s stern way
H ad b rough t you to me o n some yesterday
When I was young
.
An d hand in han d they stood
S ilent with thoughts An d i n the shadowy wo o d
The moo n sank
an d the autumn dark n ess
wove
I ts lonely v eil abo u t them and their love
.
.
41
B ook V
THE S ING ER
N0 song of loving have I e v er sung you
Yet i n my heart yours is the holiest Sh rine
O memory hau nti n g forms, not one amo n g you
Is half s o pale as this, or s o divine
With ster n revealin g l ight that in few hearts
might shine
.
-
.
!
God knows what fir e ha d been i n you as
lover,
H ad you but l essened from y ou r high c ontr ol
Of love and life The close hours that disco v er
’
W ith tenderness s cruel light the soul
And all its weakness, fo und y ou unswerv ing from
”
the Goal
.
.
S o singing, down the gray slopes of the hill
The S in ger went, as dawn began to fill
With rosy wi ne the valley s brimming cup
And often tu rning that he might look up
One last time mo r e to the sunrise gilded towers
’
Winged ro und with light fr om memory s secret
’
.
-
,
We n t onward
And with swing ing firmness
strode
Along the fair white wi ndings of the ro a d
.
.
42
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Long was the road, that skirti n g field or foam
Tur n ed toward the fas tn ess of his an cient home
And as it wen t, it passed the drowsy town
With mouldering spires and gateways turni ng
brown ;
And passed the City of the E merald Gate ;
And came at last, whe n twilight low an d late
Bur ned on the fiel ds , u nto the silent place
Whence on ce, with sunrise glowi n g on his face ,
The S inger c ame forth man y a year ago
.
.
As he dr ew near t o it, there seemed to grow
A stir and quiv er in the golden stri n gs
That had been c omr ade of his wanderings
A nd j ust as one time long ago they spoke,
So now the prison ed sp irit thrilled and broke
Its silen ce, as if wakened by presage
That this wa s end of its long pilgrimage
.
Brother h eart, th e d ay is done,
And the ending of the su n
Over meadow, over foam,
Bringeth us, s o lon g a roam,
To the quiet gates of home
In our many pilgrim days,
I n our strange and tortuo us ways,
I n our sorr ow and delight,
-
.
43
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
In our noonday and our night
Tell me, now that all is do n e,
If thy seeki n g heart has won
F rom the thi ngs of little worth
”
That for which we wandered forth ?
,
Hearing, the S i n ger bowed awhile his head
As musing, or a little weari ed
And then, with eyes glowing with some deep
fire,
Made ans wer to his brother and his lyre
.
Brother, it is no small thing
To have sung the so ngs we sing
Better still is it to se e
Al l was seen by thee and m e
Best of all when hearts a r oam
T ur n in last ful fil ment home
!
.
.
-
.
For me, I deem that life has paid
Its debt Upon one brow is laid
S uch light as would alone have given
Glimpse of the lamps that burn i n heave n
0 happy prin c ess , yours the gleam
An d your s the unimagined dream
Which makes the hour s both sa d and deep
With richer u n der tones that sleep
.
.
44
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Or fi re the chill and livi ng air,
B ut I shall feel, across all lan ds ,
The outstretche d ye a r n i n g of your han ds
No a utumn dawn i n g h our can shake
I ts p lumes o f gold but Shall awake
Tenderness in me a n d your n ame
S hall p as s upon the wi ng ed flame
.
-
.
An d fo r y o u too has it not been
E nough that, livi n g, each has see n
Anothe r heart u n veiled a n d clear,
And felt a n othe r soul draw near
Un til they m i ngled in o n e breath
A nd touch o f wi n gs
Which n ever death
Nor a n y c han ge c an tak e away ;
Nor harshly weari ng later day
Dispel the love nay, rather it
Shall like an aureole flame trans mit
’
S oft b rightn ess wheresoe er we m o ve
An d fill the worl d with light of love
.
!
But when all lights are overblow n
And dark n ess hovers on alo n e
Then shall the v an ished S pirit k n ow
’
s
These thi ngs a S hall su n o r S pri ngtide s glow
Revive the life of l ong ago,
Through forme r dr eams that still Shall last
,
6
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Whe n i nto dark the dr eamer passed ?
S ome u nbelief that we can die,
S ome se n se of immortality,
N ot sure, but li n geri n g piteously,
Brings strength to Shape the h ope but
Our hopes an d si ngin g musical
Give no lo ng comfort, th ough we cli n g
To faith, an d rous e our hearts to S in g
As if from heave n the sou l might view
O n earth its visio ns live an ew ;
F orgetti n g that it all is vai n,
A n d death gives nothi n g back agai n
.
Yet so n g is magical ; it brings
S ome u nguessed gl o ry o n its wi ngs,
Some cli n gi n g memory that S h a ll last
When i nto dark the bard h as p as sed
Therefore methi nks I still shall feel
The O l d revivi n g rapture steal
Below to comfort me, whe n eyes
Of y ouths shall open with surprise
A n d revelatio n , as the fire
Of sudde n wo n der an d desire
In my dear bought, sweet, quivering words
’
S hall strike their bei ngs hidde n ch ords
If i n a fou ntai n plashin g room
Weavers rou n d so me Arabian loom
.
-
.
-
47
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Unto each other shall repeat
My music, very low a n d sweet,
’
An d in their colors r ich design
Unk n owin g weave these dr eams of mi n e,
Then certai nl y I Shall awak e
A n d bless the far worl d for their sake
When mai d e ns on a summer night
Whisper, with softly breathe d delight,
’
My songs i n their b eloved s ear,
Surel y I shall not fail to h ear,
H owever far m y S pirit bides,
Howeve r mi ngle d i n stran ge tides
O f other l ife or other death
An d mi n e shall be their trembli ng breath
By r ight of fancy which has wove
The k indlin g image of their love
.
-
.
.
And from some chambe r of the West
Where I shall take my fi n al rest,
I shall look back on life, i nspired
With light on pu z zles that once tired
My thought i n labyri nths immens e
The mysteries of soul an d S ense
An d what is goo d, an d what is base
What hallows o n e beloved face
Why hopeless chasms mu s t still be trod
By him who greatl y dreams of God
!
48
THE
HAPPY PR INCESS
Why tears alo n e
wake the mute
Music th a t sleeps within the lute
All these I thi nk that I shall know,
An d man y a tale of lo n g ago
All things that livi n g I have s ung
With revere n cin g though feeble to n gue
Shall there be stripped o f cl o aki n g form,
An d actual, palpitan t an d warm,
As disembodied esse n ces
In every daw n fl ood to mi n e eyes
Livi n g, I loved them for n o s a ke
’
Save Beauty s d yin g, the n I fin d
Of all the g oods I leave behi n d,
The o nl y treasure I can take
can
.
.
.
But now what care I if I k n ow,
Whe n I S hall sleep , wr apped cold, below,
How my praises shall be su n g,
How my altars may be hun g,
With what pomp of nights an d days
Men may give my si n gin g praise
But this thin g I fi n d most sweet
To have trod wi th livi n g feet
Through the uplan ds, through the green,
Livi n g, that mi n e eyes have see n
What stre ngth the mortal heart can hold,
O n which su c h te n derness doth fold
!
.
49
THE H APPY PRIN CES S
As
still may l as t when moon and su n
And stars have chan ted orison
Pea cefully over my low bed,
Rising a nd setting where are shed
The flower s that shall wave o er me
”
Whe n I shall sleep eternally
’
.
And the old glory c ame upon h is face
With s u ch a softn ess as to half eras e
The marks of time a n d each too longi n g pan g
And lifting u p his golden harp he sang
-
Tho u strangely qu i vering, lifeless
H ow cruel to waken thee to si ng
T o stir thy sile nt g olde n wires
With touch of memories and desir es
C ou l d I not even let thee Sleep
I n that Lethean empty deep
Of lifelessness where never beam
Of su n should Slant athwar t thy dr eam
.
And yet perh aps, in l ater years,
I n worlds beyo n d our j oys and tears,
Thou an d I, Brother, free and glad,
S hall both loo k back, not wholly s a d
At thought of What on earth has been,
An d d ear de s ires we two hav e seen
50
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
At thought I woke you from the clay
”
To stir and hope your little day
.
And then , to uchi n g n o sweet respo n din g chord
Tenderly over hi s harp his v oice he p oured
Dreams whi ch the heart doth hold,
S hall the later years forget ?
D ays of the drifted gold,
C an ye change and wan e and set ?
Let the stars go out and the su n wax c old,
B ut stay y e a little yet
!
.
Ye go b ut ye r etu rn
In secret fairer guise
Lights that of old did burn
I n but o n e woma n s eyes
Now fold the world where the heart once yearned
F or a far ofl paradise
!
.
’
-
.
But now the heart is still
With a foamless tide of peace
Over the bour n e a n d hill
The an cie nt questin gs cease
A n d from the surge of its former
The soul sh all find r ele as e
!
.
.
.
51
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
N ot in the sky s far g old
15 the fairest beauty s e t
Love which the world doth fold,
Love without wan e or set
Let the stars go out and the su n wax
”
But stay thou a little y et
’
!
.
.
And then he c e as e d an d e very note was still
S ave thoughts that c am e the silences to fill
A S when in slope of autumn afternoon
Ere yet the su n is gone, a feathe r m oon
More white than S ilve r floats up on the Sk y
I n crystal silen c e, while the dreaming eye
Of poet s o is charmed that he knows
Not when o r how th e wani n g s u nlight goes
A n d o n e by one the stars c ome ; a n d among
H er han dmaidens, the moon, with censers swu ng
S olemnly rou n d her, tak es her lofty place
As queen of sk y , and on her weary face
Shines an immortal e cstas y of light
A n d she moves slow out thr o ugh the tra ckless
night
.
.
52
T O FAN CY IN T HE LATE R DAYS
Yea, thee I call on, even as did that other
Greater than I in fate th ough like i n aim,
To whom thou wert as loved breast u nto lover
R eturn, 0 F an cy, ki n dl e me with flame
Like his, like thi n e N o t for the h O p e of fame
Or glory amo ng men I ask it thee
But that I may rise passi on ate a n d free ,
’
And from the peaks of my so u l s liberty
! ustify thy n ame
.
.
.
For wearied of the hearths of home
Wearie r still of days a roam,
Unto thee the heart must turn
And when dawn or even burn
Their soft lights of gray or rose,
Then agai n my forehead k n ows
Cool winds of thy starry S phere,
A n d the days of gold are here
-
.
.
Linger b y m e at each hour
’
Come to touch the bluebell s flowe r,
By a secret lovely chan ge
Makin g it a palace strange,
Where the air y slender feet
.
55
T HE HA P PY PR IN CE
Th a n t h e p e rf u m e dr i fis fi
B u t w hen t h e y
it
.
co me
dr o ws y h ome
be h old
To t h ei r S wI D g I D g
om
th ee
,
so n g s of s il e n ce ra r e
A n d t h e y l a y t h e m a t t hy fee t,
Bl u e b e ll g i fts t o o n e more sw ee t
A ll t he i r
To
.
t h e gr ee n
Un t o whi ch
O
v er
the
sea
d e p ths of t
t he
-
lon g
w ee d
s
h
e s ea
w a v es
roa r
eb b an d
56
.
.
fl ow
.
S S
T O F A N C Y I N T H E L AT E R D A Y S
Of those deep dim cas tle halls
Built of veinless emeralds,
Where dwell all thin gs sweet and dead
That fro m the garish earth have fled
There I k n ow that we Shall fi n d
The lost voice of the ni ght wi n d
There will be the perfect note
Which h as ever seemed to float
! u s t be yo n d the yearn in g reach
’
Of ear thly music s trembli n g speech
Ah perhaps there wi ll be there
Lights on long dead sunn y hai r,
Lo ves th at were for ear th too fai r
.
.
.
,
-
If, 0 Fancy, tho u wo u l dst b ri n g
All these j oys, that I mi ght S i n g
Of their beauty, cou l d I as k
More of thee who let me b as k
In the dawn light of thy smiles
R o un d about thy fairy isles ?
-
Y ea, I as k thee for a greate r
H ar der boo n, a char m to brin g
T o a sad der world an d late r
’
All i ts y o uth s r ememberi ng
57
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
To bring back to wiser faces
’
F ervor of their youth s desire,
H ope to s eek the Sile n t P laces,
S tren gth to fi n d the Holy F ire
For I kn ow that thou canst fil l
With thy p as sion every mind,
Touch the eyes that now are blind,
Wake the soul that now is still,
Make the deadened S piri t thril l
Li k e a bra n ch in April wind
.
.
Thou hast lov ed the poet s dreami ng
Haun ted chamber, hu shed an d lo n e
Now come forth where tides are streaming
Of stern life, where break and moan
I n the streets these wear y streams
Leave the poet with his dreams
He n eeds not thy lovi n g b eams
A S do these, thy lost, thi n e own
’
.
.
.
.
F or they are s a d an d worn with too long
waitin g
For the great word, the sol v i n g touch o f life
An d all is sordid grown,
their rest, their strife,
Death an d desire an d the sweet bl oom of mati n g
Are commo n things A n d all their hope of life
Fades out i nto a pallor, an d is gone
.
.
.
58
TO FANCY IN THE L ATER DAY S
They hav e fo rgot The fair est thin gs
P all and they seek their j oys i n strife,
Pan ting for what the morrow brings,
The fleeting morrow of worn life
The silences of twilight hours,
The v oices of each woody spot,
The v er y b eauty of s m all flowers,
They have forgot
.
.
.
The sunset b ur ns for them i n v ain
T o them the sa cramental dawn
Is but new lease of trivial pai n
Whi ch must be drowned in pressing on
To strange fierce j oys No milder balm
Brings an y easin g of their lot
The soft, the b eautiful, the c alm,
T hey have forgot
.
.
.
.
They pray to Go d with h O p e of heaven
Yet nightly hav e no heart to se e
Orion and the shining S even
’
Move through the dusk s infinity
—What if to them the death hour bri ngs
Knowle dg e whi c h life has give n n ot,
That heaven lies in the l ittle thi ngs
The y hav e forg ot ?
.
-
59
;
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Fancy, crowned in heave n of old,
Brin g again thy sacred gold
That our days fade not i n cold
Cast thy light upon the flowers
Bloomin g rou n d the weariest hours,
A n d in boso ms make thy home
Whence the visions all hav e go n e
Thou cans t b uild that godlike state
Past the bitte r blows of F ate
Thou canst make the heart stand free
Even from its own ago n y
A n d in the light thy comi n g brings
The soul looks up , Lo and has wings
.
.
60
TO AL D EBA RAN
Tho u that gl owe st in the Sky
With thy sullen smoulderi n g light,
Like a r ed a n d an gry eye
Bur n i ng throug h the black of n ight,
Un to thee I si n g my song
As the night wi n ds pass alo n g
F rom the west, where san k the sunset,
To the stretches of the dawn
.
O Aldebaran , the red
C asti ng dow n thy b loody glow,
’
Burni ng from the mad Bull s head
O n the earth so g ray b elow ;
Wheeli ng slow above the west
When the world has go n e to r est ;
’
Broodi n g o e r the sile n t dark n ess
W here the low hills r aise their crest,
T ake m e on thy win gs of fi re
To the deep of dark n ess dim ;
L et me quen ch m y g reat desire
62
TO ALDEBARAN
Out upon the heave ns rim
Plun ge with me i n to the night
Hushed of sou n d an d void o f light
Where dead suns an d wan deri n g planets
Grapple in eternal fight
’
.
.
Where thou goest wou l d I go,
Wheeli n g through the trackless gloom,
I nto paths I can not k n ow,
Darker, stiller tha n the tomb
A n d whe n broodin g n ight is flown
In the carolli ng of dawn,
Let me follow thee forever
Through the wastes that are thine own
.
Let m e follow thee to spac es
Whe n ce the earth shall fade afar
I n the vast aerial pla ces
Let me fi n d some untrod star
Where the sile n ce is so deep
That the soul itself m ust sleep,
’
While across the heavens mou ntains
Thou thy burnin g watch dost keep
.
63
.
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
VI
Then my night of ancient l ong ing
S hall be swallowed in thy night
In thy dusk, the S hadows thr on gi ng
Through my dusk shall tu r n to light
’
A n d perhaps in c omets flame
All my dreams S hall make p roclaim,
Fiery borne along the dark n ess
T o the darkness when c e the y c ame
.
.
-
.
A n d b ey o n d all mortal things,
In the outlands o f the sk y ,
Soarin g on thy giant wings
I shall s e e the worl d p as s b y
Like a dr eam,
a p ageant k nown
In the space o n e thought has flown
A n d thereafter S hall be silence
And the ni ght that i s m ine own
.
64
.
MAD S ONG
The cold tree tops and the wi n d a n d the stars
Are tan gled together t o n ight
The saili n g m o o n is blurred a n d bright
Behind the bran ches bars
-
-
’
.
The seven wi nds that dwell o n the moon
To n ight have all got free,
A n d they speed toward earth like a wraith
the se a ,
A n d their spell will rea ch u s soon
-
.
Is there any haven or holy hill
O n earth or u n derground
Where I may hide from that dreadful sound
When their shrieks the air shall fill ?
there any darkness m ore close tha n n ight
Where I can steal away
That I may n ot se e their ghost light gray
Which tur neth to stone the S ight ?
IS
-
And, oh , the touch of the seven moon wi n ds
A n d, oh, their fingers cold a n d wan !
To ever y morrow those eyes are bli n d
Where the seven moon win ds h av e g one
-
-
.
65
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
They come
I s e e them speeding adown
The moonl ight s frozen track
And when they go, I S hal l follow them back
Unto thei r terrible town
’
.
.
I shal l follo w their star v ed and wailing faces,
Those faces blan k of eyes,
Those faces that fill the gloam wi th their c ries
In desolate so undless places
.
Out fr om the tree tops and tangled stars
I am drawn , I am going to n ight,
To where the moon sails blurred and br ight
’
Bey ond the b ran ches b ars
-
-
.
66
ITALIAN P HAN T A SY
A s t he
dark h ills year n toward S pri n g,
’
As the s um mer swallow s wi n g
Turns t o spaces of the S outh,
As the p op py s glowing mouth
Cries fo r k isses of the su n
When Autumn days ar e almost done,
A s the heart too lo ng a r oa m
Hun gers fo r the peace of home,
As the s e a gull tur n s to the se a,
S o turn I towar d Ital y
’
-
.
And the an c ient peac e that bides
S omewhere i n her crystal tides
Of southern pumi c e isles ; or where
In the g old glow of Tuscan air
F lorence slumbers or i n the h ome
Of al l dea d sple n did Shadows, R ome,
In on e o f these h e r p eace doth wait
A n d though the wan derer c ometh l a te ,
Cometh weary to her breast,
H e r a r ms shall O pen, and g ive him rest
-
.
67
.
T H E H AP PY P R IN C E S S
I dare not think o f thee, my lan d
! Mi n e by the right of a n cient lo v e! ,
Where o n ce the Master P oet wove
His s o ngs which the cold E nglish stra nd
So lon g dared n ot approve
It were e n ough that he has sun g
Thy suns et girdl ed hills amo ng
That tho u Sho ul dst ever b e
Sacred e n ough, that i n thy deep
Silen ce he takes his dreamless sleep
Beside thine azure se a
-
.
-
.
I dare not think o f thee, who lon g
Hast held all sin gers captive there,
Biddi n g them weave each j ewelled so ng
To star the glory of thi n e hair ;
Lest I Shou l d flee m y desti n ed hour
Be n eath these cold gray northern skies,
An d come to add m y fragile flower
Unto thy sple n did garlandries
H ow h oly seem thy garde n places
To m e upon these northern plains
How full of dear u n dying faces
An d Shadows which my soul would g reet,
H aunting thy eve n in g rains
.
-
68
THE HAPPY PRIN CESS
o n ce in purple wi ng ed bark
Across the waves some Tyrian c ame,
’
S o come I with the suns et s flame
I steer i nto the dark
Across the se a my galleys stream,
Into thy haven of sun ny gold ;
Where the poplars quiver in the te nder gleam
A n d the y oung is mingled with the old,
The yo ung pale S pri ng s o b eautiful
And the old lan d rich in its faded y ears,
I n its immortality of tears
And its fou ntains of dreams that a r e ever full
S prin g too has dreams but the tears not yet
H ave made her lovely l as hes wet
A nd sh e looks half wonderin g on thy head
B owed with the memories of the dead
The light of her eyes like the azure dawn
Across thy ru i ned graves i s shed ;
And the cypress forg ets its orison
Fo r the m ighty that h ave go n e
The vineyard vales a r e green with fir e
Of thi n an d tremu l ous l eaves
And in the tree tops as a l y r e
The S pri n g he r musi c weaves
Plain a n d river a n d terraced hi ll
S tir in the magic of he r will
There mo v es amid the feath ery pines
As
-
.
.
.
-
.
.
-
.
-
.
.
70
ITALIAN FANTASY
A snow breath from the Ape nn i n es
The v ery towers which, mou l dered br own,
F ro m little c itadels look down,
Forget the aging thousand years
A n d s e e again the gallan t spears
That o n ce they sa w pass gayly b y
I n long dead springtide pag eantry
-
.
-
.
Then rises i n the sun set west,
S hadowed beneath one mi ghty dome,
That city of dreams, that bo ur ne of rest,
R ome
I c om e, wher e a ll hav e c om e sometim e,
’
Al l dr eame rs of the world s desire
Wh ose eag e r c olo r a n d glowin g rh ym e
Gir dle the heart with fire
’
S t Peter s hollow d istan c es
S till echo with the c ountless feet ;
Again the chantin g, solemn, sweet
Floats with the incens e mysteries
Thr ough v aulted nave again is po ure d
The pagean t of the sacrifi c e,
’
Lifting to alien peoples eyes
The v isible splendor of the Lord
An d on the hear t w ith won de r sho d
.
,
.
.
,
-
.
.
71
TH E
HAPPY PRINCESS
The outward pomp its spell doth weav e,
T ea ching the doubter to believe !
H ow c an such altar la ck i ts God
As pilgr i ms c am e in earli er y ears
T o lay b efore some shrine
The heavy burden of thei r tear s,
T ak e thou , 0 c ity, mine
L et ea ch thi n c ircumstan c e and hop e
O f mine own destinies
F ade in the all dissolvi n g s c o p e
Of thine imme n sities
In thy dark streets the tr o ubled sens e
Of ma rching myriads fills the breas t
The wayside foun tains still attest
’
S ome bygo n e Pope s magnific en c e
O n r uin is new rui n gr own,
Builded abo v e with later towe r
S carce on the colum n r oots the flower ;
For new life mak es the wreck its own,
Lifting the present from the past
The dim c athedral from the heap
’
Where C aesar s dust was laid as leep
’
Thr o ugh death s gr ay arches l ife wh i rls
.
-
.
.
.
.
,
.
Yet p e rfe ct p eac e one spot al one
E nfolds , one sp ot, thy hol i est one,
72
ITALIAN F ANTASY
Where two high hearts at rest are laid,
Where Shelley Sleeps in cyp ress Shade
An d Keats beneath the su n
The Sprin g wi nd stirs the solemn trees,
But nevermore Shall it awake
These eyes, n or lin ge r for the sak e
Of teachin g them its melodies
And the swi ft clamor sinks away
B y this calm bed
And all my thought moves with the dead
Li
v
i
n
g
to
day
,
!
Till through the lo n g years tempest tossed,
Those forms are hoveri n g an d I seem
To k n ow all earthl y shapes a dream
Beside y o ur S pi ri ts lo ved an d lost
.
.
-
-
,
.
Giotto upli fte d on c e a dream
From out his soul, a dream s o fair
That sudden raptur e of the air
’
E n folded it, an d moonlight s gleam
F roze it to marble, that it stan ds
Now as a towe r not built b y hands ,
B ut r eared o f v is ion ther e
.
A n d un d er i t does Floren c e br ood
On wonderfu l and secret thing s
.
73
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
All night she dreams an d when dawn fli n gs
Its fire, s he leaves he r solitude
A n d moves half tranc ed throug h the day
And dusk r etu r ns to b rin g alway
H e r old i magi nings
-
.
’
Y et her e wher e M i chael s T itan tomb
S trains with the sense of masterin g doom ;
Here, where the m agi c Lor d of Line
Leads S pri n g in dan c es m ore div i n e
Than eyes have l ooked on
her e may c o m e
A sudden silen c e, to str ike dumb
The o v er glads ome rav ishment
W hi ch beauty on the heart has sent
And on the deeper so ul m ay fall
A fear, an emptiness, a pall
Wh at do we dr eamin g in these h alls,
’
Far from the wo rld s onrushing stream ?
They did not si t apart and dream,
The souls who wr ought these miracles
Of wo v en c olor and mou l ded stone ;
But in the broad and noisy day
B rought forth, that it mi ght last alway,
The vi sion each had seen alone
Amid a harsh and livi ng world
They sought no futile soft release
’
But m ov ed wi thi n that Vis i on s pea c e
-
.
.
.
4
ITALIAN F ANTASY
Wh ich through each poet brain had whi r led
We lose our lives i n mad dened has te
Of labor for unwort hy things
Or else , in dr eam fill e d wanderin gs
Here on th y shore the fleet hours waste
T he sor di d strain fo r store of g old
Th e poets move in wo rl ds apart
The days grow b arr en and sadl y old ;
’
P u lseless the nation s heart
P u l seless, e ! ce pt for comm on h ope
And tri vi al clamo r in the str eet
The s cholar k eeps hi s hushed retr eat ;
The m e n o f toil in bli ndn ess gr op e
Oh to awak e the shi n in g glo ry
On c e fa ir beneath thy skies ,
T o to uch wi th li ght ou r m odern story ,
An d brin g that wi s d o m to our eye s
’
Which m ade the str ee ts of Mi chael s R om e
Thr ill with the breath of unseen thin gs,
An d threw on Floren c e li ke angel win gs
The mi ghty shad ow o f the Dome
D ante , where art thou ? Michael, wh e r e ?
T ea c h u s , ami d these an cient stones,
That vision whi ch alone i s fai r,
That be auty whi ch fo r life a to n es
-
-
.
.
.
.
-
.
75
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
VI
D r eam gi rt a n d hush ed, I turn fro m
O well belov ed Italy
I leave green Capri an d the pall
’
Where Venice s waters mu s ical
Wash r ou n d a S pectre peopled b ier ;
A n d Va ll om b r os a s forests sere
I leave those haun ts most dear to m e,
Where fair S orre n to fronts the s e a ;
Or where the Paestum roses bloom ;
O r where R ave nn a, v eiled i n doom,
B roo ds on the p as t c ontinually
Or R imi n i, whe nc e O n e there came
’
To light lov e s sempiternal flame
Across the gray an d wintry foam
The winds are c alling i n my home
I go to them, for they are dear
But when thou c allest, I shall hear
Yea, far or n ear, once havi n g heard
Thy musical voice, that secret wor d
Borne far across the barren seas
I s light and l ov el i ness an d p ea ce
-
-
.
-
’
.
'
.
.
.
.
76
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
”
The lady waits without, so b u nglingly ?
What, had they h issed us both to oblivi on,
What then ?
Ol d faces g o Lon don is lonely
Fo r th ought o f some I know In the loud street,
Behind all noises, waits the deep silence
Of v oices gone ; and the clamor does not pi erc e
In the expectant b rain as does that stillness
Yea, we hav e b ruited too, and with the throng
M ade loud assail upon the hush, even tried
T o crowd that emptiness with b usy m eanings
—And then the buskined phantoms of the day
S lip off the ir r ob es
an d silen c e al one lasts
.
.
.
.
The mean in g ? Hus h They ask ed and they
ar e g one
’
And t t r ou b l e s th em n o m o re The p laye r takes
S ilen ce as s chool in the end
And all the fury
Dies in the empty hou s e Wher efore
Go as k
’
Great Marlowe s Helen, o r hi mself, they know,
’
Perchan ce Fo r m e, each actor s p layed h is part
H eartil y r o un d m e, and I k new each one,
Per c eived the spee ches, mo v es, half of the heart,
’
E ach player s l i nes, I lov ed them But wh at the
thread,
’
The plot, an d who was h er o
Ah, I m dull ,
I t has e s cap e d m e
Fr ien d, dr ink up y o ur glass,
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
78
THE RETUR N TO AVON
Gras p the warm han d and build the imp as sione d
L ov e, fight ; bu t qu esti on not of the g reater play
—
!
F or plot it has none
Gr eat
O God, its
greatness
M as ters us ; b ut at cl ose, no r o undin g off,
Not tragedy nor laughter
j us t an end
’
Of a tale unpurposed There s the plotter still
’
S tr utting the stag e,
when lo th e fury s o v er
and
N0 more, lady o r ki n g
At the en d, flowers
S eem reale r th an the r est, and sweeter, maybe
I wo uld tak e ease now in a quiet garden
Not far fr om Av on, wher e the c owslips pearl
’
Grass in a sha d e of oaks The labor s do n e,
Not well , but as I might, sin c e no man may
B eyon d crud e measu re do his wor k quite well
The sil en c e keeps b y him, and mak es his v oi c es
’
L ike r aw cymbals Ther e s somethin g left u ns ai d,
And si len c e says it, S ince we may not There,
Out in that g ar den, flowers that dwell in silen ce
Know not of its O ppression I wou l d g o wr eathed
Li k e a child, at th e en d
.
.
-
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
79
T O S LEE P
T ho u timeless flood in which the leav es of
Time
D rop an d are lost, come thou to cool mi n e eyes
’
A n d let thine obliv ious waves meet o er my
h ead
I
.
For I am wear y with deep wear iness
And sorer than the thirst of starved lips
Is thirst in me for sleep , for sleep and pea c e
With a passio n of y earn in g that is agony,
W ith a clutching , a ho r ro r, a whole abandon
m ent,
I turn toward thee a n d e v ery ner v e and thought
Cries out for thee to come with thy cool flood
And quench the fearful embers of my so ul
.
.
.
Th er e was a time I wo ul d hav e cr ied for
dr eams,
S um mo n in g the Shapes o f sp l endo r and of doo m
That haunt the c rowded c averns of th y deep
I am too weary even for these ; I cry
Only for thee and th y v ast si len c es
Tho u timeless flood,
c om e thou to c ool mine
eyes
’
A n d let th i ne obl iv io us wav es m eet o er my
h ead
.
.
.
80
P I L ! R I M VE R S E S
fa ce i s set tow a rd tb e is la nds a nd tb e sea
Tow a rd drea ms a s old y et n e w a s tb e sp ri ng w orld
And a ll my w ea ri n ess i s f a lle n from me
An d a ll my fa ir w ni te b op e sa t ls a r e u nfu rle d;
Ye a I w i ll s a ilfari b e a g e r s t rong a n d fre e
s
a rle d
dr
li
To I sles r ou n d
the foa m o
m
e
e
e
a
f
p
Ill!
,
.
'
f
,
-
,
,
‘
.
T he P o e t Y O s hi
81
.
D ZU S H I
THE D REAM ERS O F
The b atte red fishi n g j unk s of D zu shi
Stan d out eac h mor n into the sea
E ach eve their lighted sai ls turn ho m ewar d
S lowl y and wearil y
-
.
.
An d fro m the ir dus ky l i ttle doorsteps
The fishers watch wh ere lo n gest gleams
The sunset gold beyond wh i te F uj i,
A n d dream lon g silent dr eams
.
A thousan d sun ny years hav e fad ed
S in ce that which brought the fateful day
When the an c ient D ream of the Dreamer s
D z u s hi
R ose on that quiet bay
.
But th e s imp l e fish e rmen o f D zu shi
Hav e never to this day forgot
S ince for one among them, the doom
Dreame r
Waits, and he k nows it not
.
Misty autumn l ay cool on D z u shi
A fte r the flood of the summer r ai ns
83
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
The beetle boomed at night no long e r
On the lighted paper panes
.
Old m en wept to se e the moonlight
Falli n g lo v ely a cross the door,
C alling it fairest of all the hundr e d
S ummers ha d died befo r e
.
Yo ung men
b y the low sand lev el s
Wa t c hi n g th e foam born moo nlight flowers
An d sleep of night wove on unbroken
The d reams of their wak ing hours
sa t
-
‘
-
.
One Splendid mo r n as the su n r ose cr imson
Out of the silken blue of the waves
As the fishi n g boats stood out past the beaches
A n d foamin g wate r c av es,
,
-
A maid who watc he d the sails grow small e r
Unde r the b lue dome of the sk y
H i d he r fa c e in her robe i n terror,
Wa il e d, and she knew not why
.
That e v e the fis he r wi v es of D zu shi
Warm ed the rice a n d sak e sweet
Laid in order the fis h and meal cakes
That none sh ou l d c ome to eat
-
-
.
84
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
F or
I thought they went to the S ea King s
garde n,
I thought, but I did not k now
’
.
I o nly know that I longed to follow
An d from the boats a great shout rose
We have see n the dream that o ur hearts must
follow
To where the pear l flowe r blows ;
-
‘
F or it leads us be y ond the great g ray water,
D own to the j e we lle d coral thro n e
In the realm of the Ki n g a n d his foam white
daughter,
Who will give u s r ealms of o u r own
-
!
A n d the cloud and the light mo v ed o ve r the
ocean
B ehind them all the raised sails sped
But I closed my eyes, and with har d thr own
tiller
Tur ned from their p ath a n d fle d
.
.
-
.
!
They are gone with the light and the c loud of
purple
A lo n g a path that I dar e d not g o
.
86
D ZUS H I
THE DREAMERS OF
And I thi nk that they c am e to the S ea King s
garden,
”
I thi nk, b ut I d o not k now
’
.
S till in the sea bo r n town of D zu shi
-
The story lingers, like some old rhyme
In whi ch as a vial is distilled the perfume
An d bloom of forg otten time
.
And on c e tis said, i n each generation
A fisher must dr eam that dream again
I n some one heart it rises sudden
When the autum n flowers wane,
’
,
.
That he goes, with out a word of partin g,
To seek the land in the purple west
B ey ond to ocean, where waits the S ea King
T o g iv e him flowers of rest
.
And if y o u ask str on g men in D z u shi ,
They laugh and call it but a tale
Woven of wandering twilight shadows
That hour the west lights pale
.
But if yo u ask of the y o uths or old men,
O r mai ds, whose eyes s e e more than o urs,
87
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Th ey tell yo u the lon g lost Dreamers are dwell
-
ing
’
I n peac e mid the so ft pearl
-
flowe r s
.
And many a one o f the m l ook s to westwar d
And longs I know not how wistfull y
That she were o n e of the Dreamers of D zu shi
I n th e g arden b ey on d the se a
.
88
THE HOUS E O F
THE PO TTER
I d o not k now how I c an ans we r y o u
It is quite S imple, an yo u have the skill,
To mou l d the hammered coppe r to its shap e
The beating and the j oining yo u hav e seen ;
But j ust the rest,
the pe r fect form itself,
Th er e ar e no wor ds to make y o u un derstand
.
.
.
O ne c omes to thi nk so much upon the Fo rm
At night the darkness gathers into shapes
A t which the senses clutch, to tear the m forth
From bo undless space whi ch so env elops them
Y ou are a pai n te r
Ah, that is less har d
Y o u seek the line, the c olor b ut I strain
After the mass, as one who slowly breaks
A statu e free fro m its enfolding stone
The c urv e of the new moon, the drooping b o ugh,
T he slantin g wav e, y o u paint them as they are
But me they lead into the bo undless dark,
T he t wilight plac e o f uncr eated F orm
At times I almost fear For I m u s t wo rk
In this strange lan d of night where all is still ,
And m urky shapes to we r d iml y throug h the
gloom
An d one m ig ht think t o m eet hi s own wan fac e
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
90
T H E H OUS E OF T H E P OTT E R
S ometimes the Master c omes to watch my work
.
H e himself makes, I think , not many shapes
But once he praised a v ase that I had wr ou ght ;
And then with one s u re c hang e transformed its
m ould
Into that dream whi ch I had so ught in v ain
A n d as he looked into my eyes, I k new
That he had seen the Form more clear than I,
That h e too k new th e l onel y twilight c ountry
.
.
.
Yea, I am h e who mak es ch rysanthemums
I think yo u watched me painti n g yesterday
Ah, yes To day I wo rk n ot for my ha n d
Is not quite firm, no r do my eyes s e e clear
And then the M aste r wills that none shoul d
work
.
.
-
,
.
.
Indee d, o ur littl e g ard en i s so still
Y o u wo u l d not guess the clatter of the stree t
Went on about it i n the dus ty su n
T hat g ol d g low on the b amb oos by the well,
’
H ow soft i t is ! An d her e b eside the pool s
S mal l islan ds an d low faer y promontories,
T he light is such a russet as I lo ng
To lay on tha t u n fin ished vas e of mi ne
.
.
91
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
I d o not dr aw th e o utlines, nor yet b end
The slende r tra cer y of gold and sil ver
The Mas te r gives the patter n ; and a b o y
’
—
S nips out the trac ery,
tis easy wo rk,
Amid his S hinin g wires, piece b y piece
I lay the c olors, choose what grimy dust
Out of the little p il es wi ll fuse and melt
T o pools of j e we l le d l i ght aro und the v ase
Th at clo u dy b l ue none makes as well as I ;
An d I hav e hear d the Empero r h as praised
A c ertain yellow
li k e the O pen west
I lai d upon a b owl that went to him
But more than all, ch rysanthemums are mi ne
I n rus ty g old and smo ky p u rple g ray
An d faintest l ilac a n d pale sleeping whi te
T he y r ange around m y v ases None but I,
An d h e, the M as ter, thus c an m ak e them rise
Fr ai l a s a t a utum n s touch
.
.
.
.
.
-
.
’
.
I t i s m ost str an g e
Th e y o un ge st an d th e h app i est of our house
Love best to paint the fierc e u nearthly shapes,
Gr eat blue gold drago ns on a field of green,
Or serpents c oiling rou nd the o c ean world
B ut those less j oyfu l turn to tr ees and flowers,
T he che rry and the iris and the pine,
The c o mm onest gr owths u po n o ur summe r hi lls
-
.
92
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Wh at was r ej ecte d b y the fi ery tr ial
B ut when the flu ! is right, the colo r p ur e,
’
And each line clear, then all the fire s light
S ee ms frozen in them when they come fro m it
—
S ee, this is spoiled,
the fleck b elow the
flo wer
’
But here s a v ase that all wi l l k now as ou rs
Whe r ev er y o u m ay tak e it in the world
.
.
.
Th at green, y o u se e , th at green b rings
b a ck to me
A time of lo ng ago, wh en night b y ni ght
T he Master s a t with me beside the kil n
W e fed the monster logs of pitchy pine
And watched the slow procession of the stars,
And for g reat fe a r spoke n ot a S ingle word
Then I grew ill, a n d still he watched alone ;
I do not k now what dreams watched b y hi s
side
Unti l one d awn h e c ame to wher e I lay,
Al m ost r e c ov ered of my fever spell ,
And speakin g nothing, held before my fac e
A litt le c up on whi c h the cloudy green
Flowed like a spotless lak e amo n g the hil ls
I cried aloud and almost wept for j oy
B ut he said nothing, though he looked at me
As i f the sunlig ht shone behind his eyes
.
.
.
.
.
4
THE HOUSE OF THE POTTER
I t is a pretty color oh, yes, yes
I would not rank it higher than its worth
And here they c ome with mor e a ccurs ed pots
.
.
I
You have not seen the Mas ter ? Ah, how
strange
You thought, then, he would stand with i n the
gate
T o bargain with you on his latest v ase ?
N ay, nay, forgive me I am very old ;
A n d I have seen s o many who have c ome
With chatterin g lips an d prying sightless ey es
’
To look at him as at a j uggler s Show
.
H e does not c ome among u s o ften now
S ometimes he enters to the working room
A nd with a word, a look, a certain touch,
R eki n dl es those who toil for beauty there
I, by the gate, do not look o n him ofte n
But sometimes yo nder, by the opened k iln,
I se e him standin g like a D eva Kin g,
H is stern j ust iron hammer in his han d
.
-
.
.
.
Not twi c e a summe r does he pass the g ate
M en praise hi m from the limits of the earth ;
.
95
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
And yet he seldo m leaves the little ho u s e
H id by the bamboos yonder in the garden
It is not work, I thi nk for when he draws,
The c olored pattern or the outli n ed Shape
Grows with a swiftness unbelievable
A dozen days, and he c ould hav e complete
The plans for all the S ixty little j ars
That are our yearly harvest Nay, I think
H e cannot work thr o ugh all th e lonel y days
.
.
.
.
H e used to b e among u s more than n ow
Those were the years wherein his br ai n devise d
The c olors and the c rucibles and tools
By which our house n ow execute his will
H i s eyes ar e dimmer than they were of old
H e mo ulds no more, no r blen ds the pigm ent
d ust,
But onl y weav es those myster ies of line
And harmonies of c olo r you have seen
S ometimes at night I meet him by the pool
Looki n g in S ilence through the silver depths
O r walking Slowly down the autumn paths,
D r eaming some dr eam of whi ch we c an n ot know
.
.
.
.
,
.
I so metimes thi n k that i n this qui et p lac e
H e makes all a little like hi ms elf
We do not g reatl y c are for the lo u d world,
.
96
AT ISE
W hen sh e was d ead, and the v oti v e tablets
Began to darken that bore her name
He left the cheerless mo un tain v illage,
The h il ls that see me d no m o r e the same,
,
And d onned the faring pil g ri m s g arme n ts ;
A n d turned his face toward the happy so uth
Where the Lord of S ummer dwells forever
W ith a sunny smile o n his popp y mouth
’
.
But h is was no glad path o f summe r
No lighted meadow bloomed for him
He trod stran ge l o nely hills at noo ntide
At dus k, strange ways with S hadows dim
.
.
Men g av e him r ice o r fr uit or sak e
Or fresh c aug ht fish, as each c ould spar e
The rains of eve fell coldly r ound him ;
The dews o f ni g ht wer e on hi s h ai r
.
-
.
.
Along the great Tok a i do r oadway
A s by some unseen tempest blown ,
’
He drifted mid the stream of travelle rs,
S ilent and weary and alone
.
And in the end won slowl y onwar d,
L ess liv e than d ead, less m an than wr ai th,
98
AT ISE
T o where in I se s v alleys moulder
The strongholds of the Ancient Faith
’
.
He p as sed the timeless gro ves of camphor
He passed the blessed Cleans in g Stream
And sa w amid the sacred cedars,
’
Beneath the torii s faded gleam,
That Shrine before all others holy,
Set i n a wide sequestered glade
And standin g at the white veiled po rtal
H e bowed his head and p r ayed
.
God who art su n and earth and sk y ,
’
’
My mother s heart, my father s spirit,
Unto whose ear the priests lift cry,
Lord of all life o u r souls inherit,
Tho u who ar t shadow o v er me
And shini ng light aroun d my head,
Give back one light to comfort me,
Bring ba ck one liv ing fr om the dead
!
!
.
I fear the labyrinthine ways
Where i n new shapes our souls ar e b o rn,
Lest she an d I may miss always,
No r eve r se e the same white m o r n
.
99
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Thou who art j udge of all the ear th,
Who art the j udged who art the rod,
S tay, of the coun tless, one rebirth
An d praised be thou, the Unk nown God
!
,
”
.
A tho usan d pilgrims c ame and went
A thousan d prayers rose from the Shrine
T o Him whose eye as one beholds
The dawning and the se t of time
.
.
The years went b y yet d ay by day
S teadfas t before the holy place
H e waited, in whose heart grew fear,
Though trembling hope shone on hi s face
.
The c amphor trees are mouldering now
A newer greater temple stan ds
Where stood the old a n d fp i lg r i ms c o me
T o pray the prayers of many lands
-
.
’
.
B ut as last night I walk e d the grov e ,
I heard before the temple stair
A voice th at trembled o n the dusk
W ith hopeless p assion of faint pray er
S hadow and li g ht ar o un d our heads,
Thou who art j udge, an d j udged, and r o d,
Who are the livi n g ? Who the dead
”
Who ar t th o u, tho u Unknown God ?
1 00
TH E
PO E T Y O S HI
T0 hi s S ong s
”
The many shall n ever k now you
B u t few Shall hold you dear
I n the deserts of earth where I s ow yo u
You shall fade with the fadi n g y ea r
.
.
.
You shall feel dark sk ies abo v e y o u
An d lear n the lo n ely lot,
Till you come to a heart that Shall love y ou
And the r est shall be forg ot
.
1 02
KO BO
D A I S HI S
’
FIRE
When K ob O D aishi lit that fire
Whose sacred flame is burnin g still
Where Mi yaj i ma, hill by hill,
Lifts from the wav es to one gray spire,
He sa w upon the suns et Sky
A cloud shaped drago n gray and gold
With s c ales along each mo nstrous fold
And eyes that glimmered balefully
-
.
A n d as he look ed, the m ov ing air
Changed it a n d moulded in its place
’
A downcast pious trader s face
With lips that seemed to stir i n prayer
.
Then the Great Teacher turning spake
!
Full man y times this S hape shall come,
S tealthy or rampan t, loud or dumb,
And many forms i ts soul shall tak e
.
Though as a trade r mild it mo ve,
Or as a power to make you free,
O r bring you stren gth of lan d an d
Ye shall n ot g ive it aught of lo v e
!
.
1 03
TH E
HAPPY PRINCESS
!
Let no gate open t o i ts wiles
It fee ds upon all sweet content ;
Nor will it stay till it has rent
The an c ient pea c e that m akes y o u r isles
.
!
A place wh e r e each m an c an fulfill
His individual life with days
That lead through simple n atural ways
Wher e deep un r estfu lness i s still
.
!
Th e d r ag on giv es the v aunting bo ast,
The longing for u n pre c io us thi n gs
W hen you hav e gras ped what gifts he bri ngs,
”
Then shall y o u k now what y o u h av e lost
-
.
.
S t ill bur n s, but l ow, th e sacr ed fir e
.
I ts sh r ine, thoug h ruined, rises still
Where Mi yaj i m a, hill by hill,
L ifts fr o m the waves to one gr ay spi r e
.
B ut th e Great Teache r might not wait
Whose wor ds so warnin g were of yo re
The sunset b u r ns along the sho re
The dr ag on h o v ers at the ga te
.
.
1 04
.
B UDD HA
A T NAD I K A
And B u d dha cam e to where the se a
Curled silver white upon the land,
And murmurs of infinity
Br eathed on the sand
-
.
And there lay shells lik e r osy foam
Borne from the caver n s of the deep ,
Frail playthi ngs drifted from the hom e
O f timeless ti d eless Sleep
.
And on th e san d a F isher stoo d,
D rying his nets that late had seen
The silent caverns of the flood
And all the wastes b etween
.
The F is h er lin g e r ed in his plac e
With counte n an c e of mild surp r ise,
’
And l ooked upo n the Buddha s fac e
W ith dumb un c o mprehen ding eyes
.
And Bu ddha spake
Thy nets ar e dr awn,
Thy boat rocks idle on the se a ,
Thy day turns westward, and is g one
”
C ome tho u with m e
.
.
1 06
BUDDHA A
T N
AD I K
A
The F isher m arvelled,
I m ust toil
W ith n ets and Shells among the c aves,
’
T o win the sea s un willing spoil
”
Fro m the harsh waves
!
.
!
And Buddha ans wered
Cast no m ore
Thy nets upon the troubled sea
Nor gather Shells alo n g the shore
C ome thou with me
,
.
.
Thou dr a we st sh ells and c urio us flowe r s
F rom out the blue untrodde n c aves
Tho u seest the passing of the hou rs
T ho u hear est the clam or of the wav es
.
.
.
!
Tho u O p enest the sh ell wher e lies
The pearl more white than d r iven sp r ay
And trackless past thy vision flies
E ach pas sing day
.
B ut I will teach thee not to stir
The shell no r flower in its sleep
Fo r thou shalt roam the sepulchre
That chasms all thei r nativ e deep
!
.
!
And v ain d esir e, li k e te rr o r gr own
Deep in th e chambers of thy b r east,
1 07
.
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
S hall be from thee fo r ever flown,
And thou shalt r est
.
N0 search for pearls shall blin d thy thoug ht,
Nor wav es, with clamoro us harmonies
B ut in the silen c e wher e is naught
Thou shalt behold the One that is
.
.
And wh er e thy d ay s now speed like foam
A cross thy v ision, there shall be
For thee a vast eternal ho me,
”
An Infinite S ea
.
The F isher l ook ed on Buddh a dumb,
Looke d deep into that tende r gaze,
Th ose eyes within whose depths had come
An d g one th e so rr ows o f all d ays
.
H e l ook ed un c ompr eh en d ing l y,
And wear ily he shook his head ;
And turned on c e m ore to drag the se a ,
Knowi ng n ot wha t th e Bu ddha sai d
1 08
.
THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Let you throb with wave and river,
S tir and sleep with pal m and plane
A n d the storms mar c h up in c olumns
From the shining Indian S ea
And at night the heat glare flashes
Instant b r i ght on cloud and tree
Deep the g reen, oh, nev er deep e r
And the cri mso n flowers flame
’
T hr oug h their leaves like Nature s day dr eams
And you dream, till whence you came,
Where you go, are sever ed fr om you
And your glad soul fain would soar
Where the white doves whirl an d cir cle
Throug h the suns hine o f ! ohor e
.
-
.
.
-
.
Go y ou h ence an d lift y o ur b ur den
T read the path that has been se t
Leav e the su nshine, leav e the se a wind,
Leave the palm trees, and forget
—
And forget
E xcept when ! une winds
S tir the pulses of the world,
And a longi n g thr ills the tree trunks,
Thril ls the leaves b u t half uncurled ;
C omes an d whispers at your window
Wh e n the mornin g dews are wet
Breathes upo n your weary fo rehea d
Wh en the g reen g ol d s u n has se t
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THE OLD CALL
I t will reach you i n the northlan d,
It will touch you though you die ,
’
It will draw your heart s unutterable core
Through the night, the stars, the breakers,
’
T o the s u n , the hero n s cry,
With the calli n g, c alling, c alling of ! ohor e
111
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ON A P ERS I AN TI LE
Where would yo u r ide, O k night so bold,
’
D ecked in yo ur youth s glad panoply ?
In robe of r ose with thr ead of gold,
As for some gallan t holiday ?
D o you not k n ow that lo n g of old
’
Yo u r S hah s gr eat p ag eant mo v e d away ?
And still you rid e y o u r p r an ci n g steed,
And still your laughing eyes are b r ight
Is it because yo u have small need
Of aught save of you r o wn delight
That yo u remain while empires bleed
And tur n to S ha d ows down th e ni gh t ?
I lo v e y o u, an d I k now not why
I have p assed by the loftier fac e
O f a ki ng stern in maj esty ,
To you r pl a c e
An d of a poet
I c ome You onl y c ou l d not die,
But r i d e a n d ride with old ti me gr a ce
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And i t avai ls not that I tell
T o yo u how all yo u r pomps a r e fle d
That lo v el y ey es y o u lov e d so well
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THE D E VIL DAN CER S
A Thi b e ta n F olk
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s on g
The shrill in g De v il D an c ers c ame
With shuffling feet
They called upon yo u b y the name
That was so sweet
With great ghost dagg ers in their h ands
They wove a spell
W hereof they said, not H ell
No r H eaven itself could loose the bands
And wa s it well ?
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Lik e some gr eat ghost who h eav es an d spills
The shaken ground,
Like a thu n der demon of the hills
They would have bou n d
You who wer e wont beside my b ed
T o bring me peace
Which alone g ave releas e
From terrors that, sin c e y ou wer e dead,
Never c ou l d c ease
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The gri n ning Dev il Dan c e rs c ame
W ith shu fl i n g feet
They said
It is a thing of sham e
That now s o sweet
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THE DEVIL DANCERS
Should seem a ghost that weaves you ban ds
”
Of some vile S pell
And they cursed by Heaven an d Hell
With the great ghost daggers i n their han ds
It was not well
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Sin ce then I watch awake all n ight,
But no one comes
The stars pass an d there breaks the light
The thun deri ng drums
Of the Devil D an cers rise and fall
A S the dawn grows
And on the wi n d that blows
Down from the heigh ts comes the keen
call
Of the changeless snows
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And I hav e c ome at the far white call
And now I stan d
Here where the mou ntains rocky wall
On either hand
S tretches away to west an d east,
Snow peak on peak,
Till the se nses would grow weak,
Were it not that here I must stan d as p r iest
Wi th al l to seek
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Here the D evil D ancers cann ot come
—
I wi ll seek , an d fi n d
On these breathl ess s n ows a ll thi n gs are dumb
Save the wi n d ,
The wind that c ame from this haunted height
O nly to tell
That what not Heaven n or Hell
C ou l d loose, I can loose, i n the plung e to
night
And it shall be well
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T HE H AP PY PR IN CES S
A nd plumes his feathers o n e by o n e
An d lizards timorous ly ru n
Through the pale moonlight of thy halls
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Thou k n owest not A dream is thine
Of that great day whe n i n his state
Thy Raj ah p as sed the valley gate
With gold decked elephants a shi n e,
With all the life that warmed like wine
Th y cou r ts and galleries of late ;
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And down the crowded causeway bo r e
Thy blood, thy life, away with h i m
What was the look that the n he wore
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As passi n g o er the valley s rim
He turned from thee to come no more,
An d left thee to thy twilig ht dim ?
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Amb er, no man shall fathom thee
Some mystery of ancie n t pain
Is o n thee Though thy splendors wan e,
Thou s e e m e st not rui n ed utterl y,
But waiti n g till his pagean try
R etur n to make thee glad ag ain
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T H E WILD D U CK
A !
ap a n es e
F ri e z e
The hero n rises a n d circles ,
The wild duck steadily flies
Past the shadowy lake an d marshes
Toward the yello w wester n skies
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The ripples murmur and travel
Outward i n golden li n es
A wild duck flaps from the marsh es
A n d rises over the pi nes
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Shadows sink on the woo dl and
Mistily deepenin g more
A wi ld duck flies t oward the su nset
A wi ld duck li fts from the shore
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I am lone in this land of marshes
I wan der its silent streams,
Where I hear but the wild duck calling
A n d se e but the yellow gleams
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Dark comes o n the quiet waters,
The pi n e trees si nk in haze
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THE HAPPY PR INCESS
Only the west i s lighted
With ruin of many days
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Only the r u shes murmur
’
On the water s mirror breast,
As a wild duck hovers an d turns him
Toward the open silent west
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THE HAPPY PRINCESS
Siva am I With scathing fire
I sweep the worlds like wi n d of H ell
W ith all its web of v ain desire
Creation falls And it is well
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Think you I do these for my sport ?
Each flower that blooms an d buds a n d dies
D raws from the deep well o f my heart
A flood of u nguessed agonies
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But thus through courts of starry space
I who am all, who am the Three
Cas t on the dark of Time an d Place
The light of mi n e Eternity
,
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