Part 2

“We too have known your questing, We too have stretched our arms forth to the night And clasped its nothingness, We too have lived and loved and wondered For a little space And then gone onward, And we seek across the silence To send our voices Out, out, across the dark.”

Is it your voice I hear, oh far, strange bird, Or is it theirs-- Theirs who have gone onward Alone and unafraid? Is there an answer I may sometime find, Or is it that our lips are dumb, Our eyes are blind, When love would come?

* * * * *

Now faint light comes upon the shadowy sky, The East is waking and the day begins. You send your cry across the quivering lake, I send my question out across the world, We watch, we two, Alone.

_TO MAURICE BROWNE_

(_On his creation of Capulchard in Cloyd Head’s “Grotesques.”_)

Shadows are round me as the dawn breaks, Shadows with long white swaying arms And anguished faces. I see them meet and touch and part Crying their desire, While a bitter figure moulds them In a shifting decoration Which enchants, eludes and maddens, Imprisoning my dreams.

Now they plead and droop and cower, Holding wan hands To whatever gods there be, Praying intercession From the malign enchantment Of their decorative doom Whence they weep their silent tears.

Oh, Draughtsman terrible Who puts out the moon and stars, Who smiles and waves a hand And puppet hearts are broken, Let them love! Only a moment in a theater, Only a moment under the stars, All there may be before the end-- Let them love!

* * * * *

The show is over. The swaying puppets of a little longer hour Go forth and cry out their desire To a Master of Decoration,-- Their God unseen, And He, like you, smiles, puts forth a hand And blots the moon and stars And tears the glory from the earth and sky And cries: “Back to your places, fools! You shall not love!”

_PRAYERS_

Day by day I tread my appointed way Greeting the sun with dutiful intent, Seeing his slow decline into the West, Watching draw near my night of quietude.

Each day I see fade slowly back to join Those other days, unlived, unloved, unmourned, That have passed by in grave processional With never a golden one to mark their passing.

Sometimes at night I ask the friendly stars “Tell me, what do I here? Why have I breath And this fair body in a world of shadows? Why do I live?” But the stars shine silently And make no answer.

Sometimes I ask of God, “Dear Lord, I love Thee well But Thou art far away-- Couldst Thou not send to me Someone on earth to love? So should I love Thee more.” But God sends no one.

Sometimes I ask the far tumultuous sea, “Oh Sea, give me of your great beating heart! Let me be swept on the whirlwind, Let me be lulled and rocked, Let me be storm-tossed, made mad, Then--let me perish!” But the Sea roars on unheeding.

So day by day I tread my appointed way Greeting the sun with dutiful intent, Seeing his slow decline into the West, Watching draw near my night of quietude.

_MY BOAT AND I_

My staunch little boat is tugging at its moorings Eager to be free, Eager to slip out on the great waters Beyond the returning tides, Out to the unknown sea.

My staunch little boat, unwilling prisoner, Frets and pulls at the anchor chain While the wind calls, “Come! come! I will bear you Out to the unknown sea!”

Long time my boat and I have plied the harbour On little busy journeyings intent, Long time with wistful gazing I have listened to the calling-- The winds with buffeting caress, The waves with ceaseless urge-- Calling “Rest, rest, rest, Rest on an unknown sea.”

And now we are away Into the mystery. Quietly the swaying waters Rock and beguile and soothe us That we may not know We are so far away.

Along the shore Are hands stretched out. What would you with me now, Oh pleading hands? I come not to you any more, I have set my sail Out to the unknown sea, Would you have me stay adventuring? Would you have me come again To be amidst you With alien eyes and a heart unquiet?

Oh cease your crying! I come not back. Long time my little boat and I Have fretted at the mooring, Long time we have looked out beyond the bar With a great questioning, and a great wonder, And then, an hour came which held the parting And we slipped Out, out, to the unknown sea.

* * * * *

The hands stretched out have faded from my sight, The shore is dim, The mountains fade into the limitless blue, Only the wind and the sea companion me, Singing “Rest, rest, rest, Rest on an unknown sea.”

_PICTURES_

I saw a little boy go hurrying Towards an old man nodding in the sun. He tweaked him by the sleeve And gazed at him with insistent frowning eyes Asking his question. The old man blinked and muttered And the child let go his sleeve And drooped and turned away.

* * * * *

I saw a mother counselling her daughter About her lover, and the girl was sullen, Looking from out averted eyes For means to go to him; And the mother bowed her head And turned away.

* * * * *

I saw two lovers meet with hungry arms, And kiss and speak and kiss again-- Then speak with challenging tones and fall apart. I saw them turn with tightened lips made dumb And eyes quick-quenched and dark. Slowly they went their ways.

* * * * *

I saw a woman kneeling in a church, Her head was bent upon worn hands Clasped tightly. Her dress was black and poor. After a time she rose and shook her head, Then beat her fist upon the rail And clattered noisily down the aisle. At the door she paused, Narrowed her eyes at the holy water And passed on.

_FORWARD, SINGING!_

Listen, girl, stand there near me, Give me your two fluttering hands, Then listen.

Little hurrying human beings Are important and significant Only in so far as they can stand alone. Most of them stand sideways, Propping themselves Against this brother or that brother Or this sister or that sister, Leaving each prop Only to carom swiftly to the next.

Now shall not every one of these Sometime discover If his prop fall down He falls as well?

Listen, beautiful child, I would carve my destiny alone! As a keen-eyed captain steers his ship By the light of the far north star Awake, alert, alone.

So, laughing girl Whom I call to my side, Hear! I stand by myself. I can love, aye, with a fierce flame, But I love none so much, no man, no woman, That his passing or his forgetfulness Shall undo me. I and my soul Stand beyond the need of comforting. None has power to make me Helpless, incomplete, beholden.

Now, bright child, golden girl, Warm woman with the fluttering hands Whom desire has brought, Will you come to my arms? I will give you love, No other lover can give you love like mine, Come!

Ah, that is well: Quick, your mouth, And then forward, singing!

But,--if you had not come, Laughing girl, I would have gone forward singing Alone!

_BARBERRIES_

You say I touch the barberries As a lover his mistress? What a curious fancy! One must be delicate, you know, They have bitter thorns. You say my hand is hurt? Oh no, it was my breast, It was crushed and pressed-- I mean--why yes, of course, of course-- There is a bright drop, isn’t there? Right on my finger, Just the color of a barberry, But it comes from my heart.

Do you love barberries? In the autumn When the sun’s desire Touches them to a glory of crimson and gold? I love them best then. There is something splendid about them; They are not afraid Of being warm and glad and bold, They flush joyously Like a cheek under a lover’s kiss, They bleed cruelly Like a dagger wound in the breast, They flame up madly for their little hour, Knowing they must die-- Do you love barberries?

_TWO PATHS_

Today it seemed God bent to me and said, “Pilgrim, you are weary, are you unaware You have two paths?” And I answered, wondering, “Tell me of them that I may choose.” And God said “You have set your face towards a far goal, To be attained Only with heartbreak of endeavor. It is written should you choose this path Many times you shall faint and falter, Raising yourself with bruised hands And bewildered eyes, And when at last You see the ending of the journey, Before eternal silence comes, You shall hear A little clamouring and tinkling of men’s voices: But you will smile quietly And turn away.”

“And the other path?” I asked. In a different voice God said, “The other path is short, It ends but a little way ahead, There is no attainment, no acclaim; Only darkness, quiet, Rest from desire, And memory In the heart of the beloved.”

And I answered, “I have chosen.”

_WHEN YOU COME_

(“There was a girl with him for a time. She took him to her room when he was desolate and warmed him and took care of him. One day he could not find her. For many weeks he walked constantly in that locality in search of her.”--From Life of Francis Thompson.)

When you come tonight To our small room You will look and listen-- I shall not be there.

You will cry out your dismay To the unheeding gods; You will wait and look and listen-- I shall not be there.

There is a part of you I love More than your hands in mine at rest; There is a part of you I love More than your lips upon my breast.

There is a part of you I wound Even in my caress; There is a part of you withheld I may not possess.

There is a part of you I hate-- Your need of me When you would be alone, Alone and free.

When you come tonight To our small room You will look and listen-- I shall not be there.

_REST_

Often I have listened curiously To the sound of a simple word All seemed to know, And wondered why I could not find Its meaning.

Often I have dreamed Of that great Nothingness, That Silence which shall come, And asked if that Were rest.

To the unquiet sea I have gone down Seeking companionship, Calling out to the beating waves “Do you too ask for rest?”

Of the wind and the rain Singing their requiem Over dead summer I have asked, “You will be quiet soon; Where do you find rest?”

To the white moon Sailing serenely I have said, “You are dim and old and cold; Have you found rest?”

To the eternal sun Uprising solemnly I have cried out, “And this new day you bring, Will it hold my rest?”

Once to my heart tumultuous There came a gleaming, A far prophecy that like a fairy benison descending Gave answer to my questioning-- Strange message lit with wonderment--

“Deep in the city’s labyrinthine heart There shall be moonlight for us and white song.” So ran the words, And like a diapason of sweet sound Across the stillness, Echoing, profound, There crept the promise,--rest.

And then--you came. I turned to find your hand, your arms, your breast. Deep in the city’s labyrinthine heart You held me close, at rest.

_MORITURUS TE SALUTO_

When one goes hence By his own hand alone We look aside. In a hushed tone We say--“What pain has gone before The sudden end?”

But I shall go Because I know No longer can the earth Hold any other joy for me Like this.

One night we had together, Only one. In all the years For all my tears The gods have given me Only one night, And it is over.

Now I am glad to go Into the Silence. I have breathed the heights. I should but know The level ways and paths Of little valleys, I will not, this should be.

So, Beloved, Remember It is because of happiness, Not sorrow, That I go. From the far coolness Of eternity I shall look out To the grave stars, Singing.

_FLASHLIGHTS_

The winter dusk creeps up the Avenue With biting cold. Behind bright window panes In gauzy garments Waxen ladies smile As shirt-sleeved men Hustle them off their pedestals for the night.

Along the Avenue A girl comes hurrying, Holding her shawl. She stops to look in at the window. “Oh Gee!” she says, “look at the chiffon muff!” A whimpering dog Falters up to cringe against her skirt.

A man in his shirt sleeves lolls against a tree, His feet stick out, His hands lie on the grass, palms up. He stares ahead. Now and again he turns himself As from the enshrouding darkness forms emerge Dragging their feet, arms interlocked, Wan faces raised to the flare of light. Sometimes these kiss, Scream in brief laughter, or throw their bodies Prone on the welcoming earth. The man watches them, then turns his head, Gets himself upon his feet And walks away.

Candles toppling sideways in tomato cans Sputter and sizzle at head and foot. The gaudy patterns of a patch-work quilt Lie smooth and straight Save where upswelling over a silent shape. A man in high boots stirs something on a rusty stove Round and round and round, As a new cry like a bleating lamb’s Pierces his brain. After a time the man busies himself With hammer and nails and rough-hewn lumber But fears to strike a blow. Outside the moonlight sleeps white upon the plain And the bark of a coyote shrills across the night.

A woman rocking, rocking, rocking, A small hand waving, nestling: Outside, lights blurred to starriness And summer rain.

* * * * *

Little waves slap softly and monotonously Against the pier: A triangle of geese honk by; On the darkening sand Fresh lines traced with a stick-- “I am sorry, Forgive,” And a little oblong mound with a cross of twigs. Near by a girl’s hat and dainty scarf.

A smell of musk Comes to him pungently through the darkness. On the screen Scenes from foreign lands Released by the censor Shimmer in cool black and white Historic information. He shifts his seat sideways, sideways-- A seeking hand creeps to another hand, And a leaping flame Illuminates the historic information.

Within the room, sounds of weeping Low and hushed: Without, a man, beautiful with the beauty Of young strength, Holds pitifully to the handle of the door. He hiccoughs and turns away While a hand organ plays “The hours I spend with thee, dear heart.”

A pink feather atop of a greying white straw hat, A peek-a-boo waist and skirt showing a line of stocking Above white shoes, Stand in front of a judge Who leans over a desk of golden oak And summons forward a sulky, slouching boy. “You are required by this Court,” says the judge, “To pay over to this woman One-third of your weekly wage For the support of your innocent child.” And the clerk of the court calls out “Next on the docket?”

_FLOODGATES_

THE MAN

Dear, try to understand. I wish that you could see, Now I am free Of all the fret and torment, The little daily miseries of love, That I can take you in my arms at night With a quick tenderness, With a new delight, Yet go my way untroubled if I do not find you, Forgetting in my zest for many things There is a you.

I wonder if you can ever understand? Do you not know That I would go Forth now to meet life’s great adventuring Alone?

I would be unloosed from why and wherefore, I would not be stayed By sorrowing or rejoicing, Even the enchantment of your nearness, Or your touch at night Is powerless any more To come between my loneliness and me.

They say that prisoners grow to love their chains, So now, after long years of bitter reaching out, Of crying to the winds And clasping only shadows of my dreaming, I love my torment.

We are such old companions, Loneliness and I! We have learned to ask but little of each other; There is no longer any turning away With hurt, averted eyes; So, Beloved, Let me keep my loneliness for friend, The only friend I trust.

When you and I first met And looked to each other’s eyes Our swift desire, I gave with reckless hands My life into your keeping. Upon your eyes, your words, your body’s grace I hung, poor fool, a-tremble; For you had power To blot the brightening day, To irradiate the night, With your sweet hands To lift me to the mountains where the spirits danced Or drag me through a hell of furious pain.

And you would like to have that power again In your two hands? Oh no, my little one, No, my pretty one, Henceforward For all your sighing You shall but have my sudden, strong caresses, My tenderness, my love, But know That out, out, out I go Into the sun Alone.

THE WOMAN

So, Man of mine! I may henceforward ask Only your strong caresses? I am your little one, I am your pretty one, Even your Beloved, now that you are free Of little fret and torment. I may give you pleasuring, But no more pain. Is that your meaning? I would be clear at last. Oh Man of mine, We are standing face to face, Now let there shine The search-light of our speech Across the night of silence.

Before us two There lie dim years for traversing, Behind, a mist Through which we long time groped With futile hands, And now, today, we meet.

Dear, do I not know That there were gleams across the darkness-- Swift lightenings Towards which we onward pressed As, for an instant, Seeing our far quest Within our grasp? Perhaps these were your beckoning hands, Your dancing spirits on the mountain peaks, But not for long we saw them. And now today it seems That I must find What shall be done When you go out alone Into the sun.

I have so often watched your silent face, Your quiet mouth, Your smooth, white brow, And longed for speech! I have so often wished to tell Of pent-up treasures in my breast You could not find! I would have given you such golden wealth Had you but come! Had you but said “I want your all.” But you were dumb.

You went your ways silently And never asked my gift. Dear, day by day I lifted to your lips A chalice brimming with rich wine, And you but sipped a little and turned away, And the wine was spilled.

The years have passed: There may not be upgathering Of wasted days, As seasons flushed and waned We have sown and reaped and harvested. Now, what shall come?

I cannot go forth As you, into the Sun Alone, I cannot take My loneliness by the hand For chosen friend, as you. I am a woman and I want Not tenderness, Not strong caresses only, But the soul of you, My Man.

THE MAN

Dear, give me your hands, Look into my eyes and tell me If you can find the soul of me. I think it has gone questing. Call it back! Recapture the wingèd thing, And I will give it gladly Into your keeping. But, dear heart, be fearful-- Souls are delicate. What if mine died long since, What time it gave up seeking To find your own? Your eyes are wet, forgive! Let there be no more hurting, Joy there has been in our meeting. I would banish weeping. Let the still waters wash away pain Into the sea of forgetting. Still may we look into each other’s eyes, Still answer to the senses’ quick demand, But as the years have marked us in their passing So must we go onward-- Hand in hand still, Yet alone.

_CHLOROFORM_

(_Written in collaboration with Arthur Davison Ficke._)

A sickening odour, treacherously sweet, Steals through my sense heavily. Above me leans an ominous shape, Fearful, white-robed, hooded and masked in white. The pits of his eyes Peer like the portholes of an armoured ship, Merciless, keen, inhuman, dark. The hands alone are of my kindred; Their slender strength, that soon shall press the knife Silver and red, now lingers slowly above me, The last links with my human world ...

... The living daylight Clouds and thickens. Flashes of sudden clearness stream before me,--and then A menacing wave of darkness Swallows the glow with floods of vast and indeterminate grey. But in the flashes I see the white form towering, Dim, ominous, Like some apostate monk whose will unholy Has renounced God; and now In this most awful secret laboratory Would wring from matter Its stark and appalling answer. At the gates of a bitter hell he stands, to wrest with eager fierceness More of that dark forbidden knowledge Wherefrom his soul draws fervor to deny.

The clouds have grown thicker; they sway around me Dizzying, terrible, gigantic; pressing in upon me Like a thousand monsters of the deep with formless arms. I cannot push them back, I cannot! From far, far off, a voice I knew long ago Sounds faintly thin and clear. Suddenly in a desperate rebellion I strive to answer,-- I strive to call aloud,-- But darkness chokes and overcomes me: None may hear my soundless cry. A depth abysmal opens, Receives, enfolds, engulfs me,-- Wherein to sink at last seems blissful Even though to deeper pain....

O respite and peace of deliverance! The silence Lies over me like a benediction. As in the earth’s first pale creation-morn Among winds and waters holy I am borne as I longed to be borne. I am adrift in the depths of an ocean grey Like seaweed, desiring solely To drift with the winds and waters; I sway Into their vast slow movements; all the shores Of being are laved by my tides. I am drawn out toward spaces wonderful and holy Where peace abides, And into golden æons far away.

But over me Where I swing slowly, Bodiless in the bodiless sea, Very far, Oh very far away, Glimmeringly Hangs a ghostly star Toward whose pure beam I must flow resistlessly. Well do I know its ray! It is the light beyond the worlds of space, By groping, sorrowing man yet never known-- The goal where all men’s blind and yearning desire Has vainly longed to go And has not gone:-- Where Eternity has its blue-walled dwelling-place, And the crystal ether opens endlessly To all the recessed corners of the world, Like liquid fire Pouring a flood through the dimness revealingly; Where my soul shall behold, and in lightness of wonder rise higher Out of the shadow that long ago Around me with mortality was furled.

I rise where have winds Of the night never flown; Shaken with rapture Is the vault of desire. The weakness that binds Like a shadow is gone. The bonds of my capture Are sundered with fire!

This is the hour When the wonders open! The lightning-winged spaces Through which I fly Accept me, a power Whose prisons are broken--

* * * * *