AUBREY THOMAS DE VERE

SONG

EEK NOT the tree of silkiest bark

SEEK

And balmiest bud,

To carve her name while yet 'tis dark
Upon the wood!

The world is full of noble tasks
And wreaths hard won:

Each work demands strong hearts, strong hands,
Till day is done.

Sing not that violet-veined skin,

That cheek's pale roses,

The lily of that form wherein

Her soul reposes!

Forth to the fight, true man! true knight!
The clash of arms

Shall more prevail than whisper'd tale,

To win her charms.

The warrior for the True, the Right,
Fights in Love's name;

The love that lures thee from that fight
Lures thee to shame :

That love which lifts the heart, yet leaves
The spirit free,-

That love, or none, is fit for one

Man-shaped like thee.

W

SORROW

HEN I was young, I said to Sorrow

'Come, and I will play with thee!" He is near me now all day,

And at night returns to say "I will come again to-morrow

I will come and stay with thee."

Through the world we walk together,-
His soft footsteps rustle by me:
To shield an unregarded head
He hath built a winter shed;

And all night in rainy weather
I hear his gentle breathings by me.

NOTHING MORE

ASIGH in the morning grey,—

And a solitary tear,

Slow to gather, slow to fall,—
And a painful flush of shame
At the mention of thy name:
This is little, this is all,
False One! that remains to say

That thy love of old was here,
That thy love hath pass'd away.

CHARLES G. ROSENBERG

THE WINGED HORSE

WAKE from your homes in tomb and shroud!

Wake, Splendours of the Past!
Joy divine, and Passion proud,
Hope sublime, and Vision vast!
Let our love your glories trace
Eye to eye and face to face;
Let our arms your beauties bind :-
Or are ye like the wind

To sight impalpable, too thin for our embrace?

Fire and water have we bound

To the car and to the wheel

With harness and with trace of steel;
A living speech and utterance found
For the very lightning's speed:
Every element compell'd

To our luxury or need;

And with a certain prophecy

Learn'd to count the courses held

By the chance-worlds that whirl on high,
The nightmares of a dreamning sky.

Surely it were an easy task

After this to bend and yoke

The mighty Thought of ages past,
The Horse our younger fathers broke:

The wondrous Steed

Whose wind-wing'd speed

Treads on the hill-top and the cloud,—
The glorious Horse

Whose sun-paved course

The younger Greek and Roman bow'd,-
The Steed whose mane,

Like golden rain,

A glory round the Italian shed

On the great road through Hell and Heaven
His restless will alone might tread,—

The Horse with living music shod
To the one bard of England given,
By whom, as by a guiding God,
His tramp of melody was driven
Through every deep and hidden part
Of that strange thing, the human heart.

And yet the Song is still,

And on the cloud and hill
Does the strong Steed unbitted stray;
The wave and air we tame,
Harness the wind and flame,-
Uncurb'd and free his glories play.
None the Wing'd One's speed may yoke,—
Lost the bit, the bridle broke,—
Unknown the might, unseen the way.

He alone may mount the Steed
To whom the ancient spell is known;
He its magic letters read

Who has the Will, and he alone:

179

ROSENBERG

And the Will our souls have sold
For the love of steel and gold,—
Sold the mighty for the mean,
Truck'd the priceless for the vile,
Barter'd for the foul the clean;
And, instead of weeping, smile.

In the name of Truth alone
Might the ancient rider feel

The strength to curb the heavenly Steed:
A very child would scarcely need
Scourge in hand or spur on heel
If that little word were known;
But giant brawn and Titan force--
Strength of muscle and of mind-
Human wit and might combined,
Were those letters five unread,
Ill upon the task were sped
To mount and curb the glorious Horse.

Earth is old, but then was young:

They were children, We are men : Youth's great hymn of faith is sung: Clay which counts could worship then.

Give us a God · a living God,

One to wake the sleeping soul,
One to cleanse the tainted blood
Whose pulses in our bosoms roll:
A vigorous faith's refreshing breath,
To make us hunger for the True,—
A faith to quicken and renew
The nightmare of our Life-in-Death!