- Strong heart! this is no royal way, A thousand cross-roads seek the day;And, hid from us, to left and right, A thousand seekers seek the light.
AWAY WITH FUNERAL MUSIC
AWAY with funeral music - set The pipe to powerful lips -The cup of life's for him that drinks And not for him that sips.
TO SYDNEY
NOT thine where marble-still and white Old statues share the tempered light And mock the uneven modern flight, But in the stream Of daily sorrow and delight To seek a theme.
I too, O friend, have steeled my heart Boldly to choose the better part, To leave the beaten ways of art, And wholly free To dare, beyond the scanty chart, The deeper sea.
All vain restrictions left behind, Frail bark! I loose my anchored mind And large, before the prosperous wind Desert the strand -A new Columbus sworn to find The morning land.
Nor too ambitious, friend. To thee I own my weakness. Not for me To sing the enfranchised nations' glee, Or count the cost Of warships foundered far at sea And battles lost.
High on the far-seen, sunny hills, Morning-content my bosom fills;Well-pleased, I trace the wandering rills And learn their birth.
Far off, the clash of sovereign wills May shake the earth.
The nimble circuit of the wheel, The uncertain poise of merchant weal, Heaven of famine, fire and steel When nations fall;These, heedful, from afar I feel -
I mark them all.
But not, my friend, not these I sing, My voice shall fill a narrower ring.
Tired souls, that flag upon the wing, I seek to cheer:
Brave wines to strengthen hope I bring, Life's cantineer!
Some song that shall be suppling oil To weary muscles strained with toil, Shall hearten for the daily moil, Or widely read Make sweet for him that tills the soil His daily bread.
Such songs in my flushed hours I dream (High thought) instead of armour gleam Or warrior cantos ream by ream To load the shelves -Songs with a lilt of words, that seem To sing themselves.
HAD I THE POWER THAT HAVE THE WILL
HAD I the power that have the will, The enfeebled will - a modern curse -This book of mine should blossom still A perfect garden-ground of verse.
White placid marble gods should keep Good watch in every shadowy lawn;And from clean, easy-breathing sleep The birds should waken me at dawn.
- A fairy garden; - none the less Throughout these gracious paths of mine All day there should be free access For stricken hearts and lives that pine;And by the folded lawns all day -
No idle gods for such a land -
All active Love should take its way With active Labour hand in hand.
O DULL COLD NORTHERN SKY
O DULL cold northern sky, O brawling sabbath bells, O feebly twittering Autumn bird that tells The year is like to die!
O still, spoiled trees, O city ways, O sun desired in vain, O dread presentiment of coming rain That cloys the sullen days!
Thee, heart of mine, I greet.
In what hard mountain pass Striv'st thou? In what importunate morass Sink now thy weary feet?
Thou run'st a hopeless race To win despair. No crown Awaits success, but leaden gods look down On thee, with evil face.
And those that would befriend And cherish thy defeat, With angry welcome shall turn sour the sweet Home-coming of the end.
Yea, those that offer praise To idleness, shall yet Insult thee, coming glorious in the sweat Of honourable ways.
APOLOGETIC POSTSCRIPT OF A YEAR LATER
IF you see this song, my dear, And last year's toast, I'm confoundedly in fear You'll be serious and severe About the boast.
Blame not that I sought such aid To cure regret.
I was then so lowly laid I used all the Gasconnade That I could get.
Being snubbed is somewhat smart, Believe, my sweet;And I needed all my art To restore my broken heart To its conceit.
Come and smile, dear, and forget I boasted so, I apologise - regret -It was all a jest; - and - yet -
I do not know.
TO MARCUS
YOU have been far, and I
Been farther yet, Since last, in foul or fair An impecunious pair, Below this northern sky Of ours, we met.
Now winter night shall see Again us two, While howls the tempest higher, Sit warmly by the fire And dream and plan, as we Were wont to do.
And, hand in hand, at large Our thoughts shall walk While storm and gusty rain, Again and yet again, Shall drive their noisy charge Across the talk.
The pleasant future still Shall smile to me, And hope with wooing hands Wave on to fairy lands All over dale and hill And earth and sea.
And you who doubt the sky And fear the sun -You - Christian with the pack -
You shall not wander back For I am Hopeful - IWill cheer you on.
Come - where the great have trod, The great shall lead -Come, elbow through the press, Pluck Fortune by the dress -By God, we must - by God, We shall succeed.
TO OTTILIE
YOU remember, I suppose, How the August sun arose, And how his face Woke to trill and carolette All the cages that were set About the place.
In the tender morning light All around lay strange and bright And still and sweet, And the gray doves unafraid Went their morning promenade Along the street.
THIS GLOOMY NORTHERN DAY
THIS gloomy northern day, Or this yet gloomier night, Has moved a something high In my cold heart; and I, That do not often pray, Would pray to-night.
And first on Thee I call For bread, O God of might!
Enough of bread for all, -
That through the famished town Cold hunger may lie down With none to-night.
I pray for hope no less, Strong-sinewed hope, O Lord, That to the struggling young May preach with brazen tongue Stout Labour, high success, And bright reward.
And last, O Lord, I pray For hearts resigned and bold To trudge the dusty way -Hearts stored with song and joke And warmer than a cloak Against the cold.
If nothing else he had, He who has this, has all.
This comforts under pain;
This, through the stinging rain, Keeps ragamuffin glad Behind the wall.
This makes the sanded inn A palace for a Prince, And this, when griefs begin And cruel fate annoys, Can bring to mind the joys Of ages since.
THE WIND IS WITHOUT THERE AND HOWLS IN THE TREESTHE wind is without there and howls in the trees, And the rain-flurries drum on the glass:
Alone by the fireside with elbows on knees I can number the hours as they pass.
