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Or the passion for fruitage tinge

That dream, for your parricide imps
To wing through the body of Time,

Yourselves in slaying him slay.
Much are you shots of your prime,

You men of the act and the dream:
And please you to fatten a weed

That perishes, pledged to decay,
'Tis dearth in your season of need,

Down the slopes of the shoreward way; -
Nigh on the misty stream,

Where Ferryman under his hood,
With a call to be ready to pay

The small coin, whitens red blood.
But the young ethereal seed

Shall bring you the bread no buyer
Can have for his craving supreme;

To my quenchless quick shall speed
The soul at her wrestle rude

With devil, with angel more dire;
With the flesh, with the Fates, enringed.

The dream of the blossom of Good
Is your banner of battle unrolled

In its waver and current and curve
(Choir over choir white-winged,

White-bosomed fold within fold):
Hopeful of victory most

When hard is the task to sustain
Assaults of the fearful sense

At a mind in desolate mood
With the Whither, whose echo is Whence;

And humanity's clamour, lost, lost;
And its clasp of the staves that snap;

And evil abroad, as a main
Uproarious, bursting its dyke.

For back do you look, and lo,
Forward the harvest of grain! -

Numbers in council, awake
To love more than things of my lap,

Love me; and to let the types break,
Men be grass, rocks rivers, all flow;

All save the dream sink alike
To the source of my vital in sap:

Their battle, their loss, their ache,
For my pledge of vitality know.

The dream is the thought in the ghost;
The thought sent flying for food;

Eyeless, but sprung of an aim
Supernal of Reason, to find

The great Over-Reason we name
Beneficence: mind seeking Mind.

Dream of the blossom of Good,
In its waver and current and curve,

With the hopes of my offspring enscrolled!
Soon to be seen of a host

The flag of the Master I serve!
And life in them doubled on Life,

As flame upon flame, to behold,
High over Time-tumbled sea,

The bliss of his headship of strife,
Him through handmaiden me.'

CHANGE IN RECURRENCE
I

I stood at the gate of the cot
Where my darling, with side-glance demure,

Would spy, on her trim garden-plot,
The busy wild things chase and lure.

For these with their ways were her feast;
They had surety no enemy lurked.

Their deftest of tricks to their least
She gathered in watch as she worked.

II
When berries were red on her ash,

The blackbird would rifle them rough,
Till the ground underneath looked a gash,

And her rogue grew the round of a chough.
The squirrel cocked ear o'er his hoop,

Up the spruce, quick as eye, trailing brush.
She knew any tit of the troop

All as well as the snail-tapping thrush.
III

I gazed: 'twas the scene of the frame,
With the face, the dear life for me, fled.

No window a lute to my name,
No watcher there plying the thread.

But the blackbird hung peeking at will;
The squirrel from cone hopped to cone;

The thrush had a snail in his bill,
And tap-tapped the shell hard on a stone.

HYMN TO COLOUR
I

With Life and Death I walked when Love appeared,
And made them on each side a shadow seem.

Through wooded vales the land of dawn we neared,
Where down smooth rapids whirls the helmless dream

To fall on daylight; and night puts away
Her darker veil for grey.

II
In that grey veil green grassblades brushed we by;

We came where woods breathed sharp, and overhead
Rocks raised clear horns on a transforming sky:

Around, save for those shapes, with him who led
And linked them, desert varied by no sign

Of other life than mine.
III

By this the dark-winged planet, raying wide,
From the mild pearl-glow to the rose upborne,

Drew in his fires, less faint than far descried,
Pure-fronted on a stronger wave of morn:

And those two shapes the splendour interweaved,
Hung web-like, sank and heaved.

IV
Love took my hand when hidden stood the sun

To fling his robe on shoulder-heights of snow.
Then said: There lie they, Life and Death in one.

Whichever is, the other is: but know,
It is thy craving self that thou dost see,

Not in them seeing me.
V

Shall man into the mystery of breath,
From his quick beating pulse a pathway spy?

Or learn the secret of the shrouded death,
By lifting up the lid of a white eye?

Cleave thou thy way with fathering desire
Of fire to reach to fire.

VI
Look now where Colour, the soul's bridegroom, makes

The house of heaven splendid for the bride.
To him as leaps a fountain she awakes,

In knotting arms, yet boundless: him beside,
She holds the flower to heaven, and by his power

Brings heaven to the flower.
VII

He gives her homeliness in desert air,
And sovereignty in spaciousness; he leads

Through widening chambers of surprise to where
Throbs rapture near an end that aye recedes,

Because his touch is infinite and lends
A yonder to all ends.

VIII
Death begs of Life his blush; Life Death persuades

To keep long day with his caresses graced.
He is the heart of light, the wing of shades,

The crown of beauty: never soul embraced
Of him can harbour unfaith; soul of him

Possessed walks never dim.
IX

Love eyed his rosy memories: he sang:
O bloom of dawn, breathed up from the gold sheaf

Held springing beneath Orient! that dost hang
The space of dewdrops running over leaf;

Thy fleetingness is bigger in the ghost
Than Time with all his host!

X
Of thee to say behold, has said adieu:

But love remembers how the sky was green,
And how the grasses glimmered lightest blue;

How saint-like grey took fervour: how the screen
Of cloud grew violet; how thy moment came

Between a blush and flame.
XI

Love saw the emissary eglantine
Break wave round thy white feet above the gloom;

Lay finger on thy star; thy raiment line
With cherub wing and limb; wed thy soft bloom,

Gold-quivering like sunrays in thistle-down,
Earth under rolling brown.

XII
They do not look through love to look on thee,

Grave heavenliness! nor know they joy of sight,
Who deem the wave of rapt desire must be

Its wrecking and last issue of delight.
Dead seasons quicken in one petal-spot

Of colour unforgot.
XIII

This way have men come out of brutishness
To spell the letters of the sky and read

A reflex upon earth else meaningless.
With thee, O fount of the Untimed! to lead,

Drink they of thee, thee eyeing, they unaged
Shall on through brave wars waged.

XIV
More gardens will they win than any lost;

The vile plucked out of them, the unlovely slain.
Not forfeiting the beast with which they are crossed,

To stature of the Gods will they attain.
They shall uplift their Earth to meet her Lord,

Themselves the attuning chord!
XV

The song had ceased; my vision with the song.
Then of those Shadows, which one made descent

Beside me I knew not: but Life ere long
Came on me in the public ways and bent

Eyes deeper than of old: Death met I too,
And saw the dawn glow through.

MEDITATION UNDER STARS
What links are ours with orbs that are

So resolutely far:
The solitary asks, and they

Give radiance as from a shield:
Still at the death of day,



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