THE INCARNATE 89 No wave that breaks in music on the shore Can purify the tiger's bloodstained den, The worms that crawl about the dark world's core Cry out aloud against the deeds of men. Alas the peace of these still hours and deep Smothers in darkness all our little star. Yet in the gentle spirit of the wise Light flashes out through many a simple thing, The tired ploughman with impassive eyes, Knows in his heart that he was once a king. 90 THE INCARNATE He sees in dreams the crown long lost and dear, That glittered on a fallen spirit's brow, A shattered gleam from some far shining sphere Has dazed the eyes of him who drives the plough. The long brown furrows of the broken soil Lead in straight lines unto the sunset's gates, On high green hills, beyond the reach of toil, The vision of the twilight broods and waits. The silence folded in about the heart Whispers strange longings to the broken soul, That lingers in a lonely place apart, Stretching vain hands to clasp the secret whole. PROSERPINE IN HADES PROSERPINA, who sought for poppies, fell Beyond the reach of summer and sweet flowers, Content to reign amongst the Lords of Hell, Queen of grey shades and dreams and outcast Powers. Was she content?-nay, Charon saw her weep, When Orpheus came from the bright world above, And sang his way across the twilight deep, And found and lost his unforgotten love. 92 PROSERPINE IN HADES Was she not dreaming of fair meadow lands, And sunlit rivers, when that Other came? And the spheres broke like glass beneath His hands, And souls rushed forth in spires of wandering flame. The Light beyond all dreams of hours and days, The Songs that break their way from sphere to sphere, In broken gleams they pierced the sunless ways, And bound her soul to hopes that once were dear. PROSERPINE ENTHRONED ALL day she reigns in dreams amongst the dead, At night, strong-winged, she flames across the skies, O'er the dark world her floods of light are shed, The silver goddess of the pure and wise. Oh! soul that gropes on through the drowsy day Amongst dead thoughts and deeds and fad ing flowers, Dost thou not leave at night the foolish clay, To join the starry throng of radiant Powers? |