But I shall say: 'Ah G.o.d! I live and love; The earth is fair, but this is fairer still; My dear ones, they were very dear; but now The past is past; for they are dearer still.'

So I shall go, in starlight, it may be, Or lapt in moonlight ecstasies, to seek The heart of all, the man of all, my friend; Whom I shall know my own beyond all loves, Because he makes all loving true and deep; And I live on him, in him, he in me."

The weary days and nights had taught him much; Had sent him, as a sick child creeps along, Until he hides him in his mother's breast, Seeking for G.o.d. For all he knew before Seemed as he knew it not. He needed now To feel G.o.d's arms around him hold him close, Close to his heart, ere he could rest an hour.

And G.o.d was very good to him, he said.

Ah G.o.d! we need the winter as the spring; And thy poor children, knowing thy great heart, And that thou bearest thy large share of grief, Because thou lovest goodness more than joy In them thou lovest,--so dost let them grieve, Will cease to vex thee with their peevish cries, Will look and smile, though they be sorrowful; And not the less pray for thy help, when pain Is overstrong, coming to thee for rest.

One day we praise thee for, without, the pain.

One night, as oft, he lay and could not sleep.

His soul was like an empty darkened room, Through which strange pictures pa.s.s from the outer world; While regnant will lay pa.s.sive and looked on.

But the eye-tube through which the shadows came Was turned towards the past. One after one Arose old scenes, old sorrows, old delights.

Ah G.o.d! how sad are all things that grow old; Even the rose-leaves have a mournful scent, And old brown letters are more sad than graves; Old kisses lie about the founts of tears, Like autumn leaves around the winter wells; And yet they cannot die. A smile once smiled Is to eternity a smile--no less; And that which smiles and kisses, liveth still; And thou canst do great wonders, Wonderful!

At length, as ever in such vision-hours, Came the bright maiden, riding the great horse.

And then at once the will sprang up awake, And, like a necromantic sage, forbade What came unbidden to depart at will.

So on that form he rested his sad thoughts, Till he began to wonder what her lot; How she had fared in spinning history Into a psyche-cradle, where to die; And then emerge--what b.u.t.terfly? pure white, With silver dust of feathers on its wings?

Or that dull red, seared with its ebon spots?

And then he thought: "I know some women fail, And cease to be so very beautiful.

And I have heard men rave of certain eyes, In which I could not rest a moment's s.p.a.ce."

Straightway the fount of possibilities Began to gurgle, under, in his soul.

Anon the lava-stream burst forth amain, And glowed, and scorched, and blasted as it flowed.

For purest souls sometimes have direst fears, In ghost-hours when the shadow of the earth Is cast on half her children, from the sun Who is afar and busy with the rest.

"If my high lady be but only such As some men say of women--very pure When dressed in white, and shining in men's eyes, And with the wavings of great unborn wings Around them in the aether of the souls, Felt at the root where senses meet in one Like dim-remembered airs and rhymes and hues; But when alone, at best a common thing, With earthward thoughts, and feet that are of earth!

Ah no--it cannot be! She is of G.o.d.

But then, fair things may perish; higher life Gives deeper death; fair gifts make fouler faults: Women themselves--I dare not think the rest.

And then they say that in her London world, They have other laws and judgments than in ours."

And so the thoughts walked up and down his soul, And found at last a spot wherein to rest, Building a resolution for the day.

But next day, and the next, he was too worn With the unrest of this chaotic night-- As if a man had sprung to life before The spirit of G.o.d moved on the waters' face, And made his dwelling ready, who in pain, Himself untuned, groaned for a harmony, For order and for law around his life-- Too tired he was to do as he had planned.

But on the next, a genial south-born wind Waved the blue air beneath the golden sun, Bringing glad news of summer from the south.

Into his little room the bright rays shone, And, darting through the busy blazing fire, Turning it ghostly pale, slew it almost; As the great sunshine of the further life Quenches the glow of this, and giveth death.

He had lain gazing at the wondrous strife And strange commingling of the sun and fire, Like spiritual and vital energies, Whereof the one doth bear the other first, And then destroys it for a better birth; And now he rose to help the failing fire, Because the sunshine came not near enough To do for both. And then he clothed himself, And sat him down betwixt the sun and fire, And got him ink and paper, and began And wrote with earnest dying heart as thus.

"Lady, I owe thee much. Nay, do not look To find my name; for though I write it here, I date as from the churchyard, where I lie Whilst thou art reading; and thou know'st me not.

I dare to write, because I am crowned by death Thy equal. If my boldness should offend, I, pure in my intent, hide with the ghosts, Where thou wilt never meet me, until thou Knowest that death, like G.o.d, doth make of one.

"But pardon, lady. Ere I had begun, My thoughts moved towards thee with a gentle flow That bore a depth of waters. When I took My pen to write, they rushed into a gulf, Precipitate and foamy. Can it be, That death who humbles all hath made me proud?

Lady, thy loveliness hath walked my brain, As if I were thy heritage in sooth, Bequeathed from sires beyond all story's reach.

For I have loved thee from afar, and long; Joyous in having seen what lifted me, By very power to see, above myself.

Thy beauty hath made beautiful my life; Thy virtue made mine strong to be itself.

Thy form hath put on every changing dress Of name, and circ.u.mstance, and history, That so the life, dumb in the wondrous page Recording woman's glory, might come forth And be the living fact to longing eyes-- Thou, thou essential womanhood to me; Afar as angels or the sainted dead, Yet near as loveliness can haunt a man, And taking any shape for every need.

"Years, many years, have pa.s.sed since the first time, Which was the last, I saw thee. What have they Made or unmade in thee? I ask myself.

O lovely in my memory! art thou As lovely in thyself? Thy features then Said what G.o.d made thee; art thou such indeed?

Forgive my boldness, lady; I am dead; And dead men may cry loud, they make no noise.

"I have a prayer to make thee--hear the dead.

Lady, for G.o.d's sake be as beautiful As that white form that dwelleth in my heart; Yea, better still, as that ideal Pure That waketh in thee, when thou prayest G.o.d, Or helpest thy poor neighbour. For myself I pray. For if I die and find that she, My woman-glory, lives in common air, Is not so very radiant after all, My sad face will afflict the calm-eyed ghosts, Not used to see such rooted sadness there, At least in fields where I may hope to walk And find good company. Upon my knees I could implore thee--justify my faith In womanhood's white-handed n.o.bleness, And thee, its revelation unto me.

"But I bethink me, lady. If thou turn Thy thoughts upon thyself, for the great sake Of purity and conscious whiteness' self, Thou wilt but half succeed. The other half Is to forget the first, and all thyself, Quenching thy moonlight in the blaze of day; Turning thy being full unto thy G.o.d; Where shouldst thou quite forget the name of Truth, Yet thou wouldst be a pure, twice holy child, (Twice born of G.o.d, once of thy own pure will Arising at the calling Father's voice,) Doing the right with sweet unconsciousness; Having G.o.d in thee, a completer soul, Be sure, than thou alone; thou not the less Complete in choice, and individual life, Since that which sayeth _I_, doth call him _Sire._

"Lady, I die--the Father holds me up.

It is not much to thee that I should die; (How should it be? for thou hast never looked Deep in my eyes, as I once looked in thine) But it is much that He doth hold me up.

"I thank thee, lady, for a gentle look Thou lettest fall upon me long ago.

The same sweet look be possible to thee For evermore;--I bless thee with thine own, And say farewell, and go into my grave-- Nay, nay, into the blue heaven of my hopes."

Then came his name in full, and then the name Of the green churchyard where he hoped to lie.

And then he laid him back, weary, and said: "O G.o.d! I am only an attempt at life.

Sleep falls again ere I am full awake.

Life goeth from me in the morning hour.

I have seen nothing clearly; felt no thrill Of pure emotion, save in dreams, wild dreams; And, sometimes, when I looked right up to thee.

I have been proud of knowledge, when the flame Of Truth, high Truth, but flickered in my soul.

Only at times, in lonely midnight hours, When in my soul the stars came forth, and brought New heights of silence, quelling all my sea, Have I beheld clear truth, apart from form, And known myself a living lonely thought, Isled in the hyaline of Truth alway.

I have not reaped earth's harvest, O my G.o.d; Have gathered but a few poor wayside flowers, Harebells, red poppies, closing pimpernels-- All which thou hast invented, beautiful G.o.d, To gather by the way, for comforting.

Have I aimed proudly, therefore aimed too low, Striving for something visible in my thought, And not the unseen thing hid far in thine?

Make me content to be a primrose-flower Among thy nations; that the fair truth, hid In the sweet primrose, enter into me, And I rejoice, an individual soul, Reflecting thee; as truly then divine, As if I towered the angel of the sun.

All in the night, the glowing worm hath given Me keener joy than a whole heaven of stars: Thou camest in the worm more near me then.

Nor do I think, were I that green delight, I'd change to be the shadowy evening star.

Ah, make me, Father, anything thou wilt, So be thou will it; I am safe with thee.

I laugh exulting. Make me something, G.o.d; Clear, sunny, veritable purity Of high existence, in itself content, And in the things that are besides itself, And seeking for no measures. I have found The good of earth, if I have found this death.

Now I am ready; take me when thou wilt."

He laid the letter in his desk, with seal And superscription. When his sister came, He said, "You'll find a note there--afterwards--.

Take it yourself to the town, and let it go.

But do not see the name, my sister true-- I'll tell you all about it, when you come."

And as the eve, through paler, darker shades, Insensibly declines, and is no more, The lordly day once more a memory, So died he. In the hush of noon he died.

Through the low valley-fog he brake and climbed.

The sun shone on--why should he not shine on?

The summer noises rose o'er all the land.

The love of G.o.d lay warm on hill and plain.

'Tis well to die in summer.

When the breath, After a long still pause, returned no more, The old man sank upon his knees, and said: "Father, I thank thee; it is over now; And thou hast helped him well through this sore time.

So one by one we all come back to thee, All sons and brothers, thanking thee who didst Put of thy fatherhood in our poor hearts, That, having children, we might guess thy love.

And at the last, find all loves one in thee."

And then he rose, and comforted the maid, Who in her brother lost the pride of life, Weeping as all her heaven were full of rain.

When that which was so like him--so unlike-- Lay in the churchyard, and the green turf soon Would grow together, healing up the wounds Of the old Earth who took her share again, The sister went to do his last request.

Then found she, with his other papers, this,-- A farewell song, in lowland Scottish tongue:--

Greetna, father, that I'm gaein'.

For fu' weel ye ken the gaet.

I' the winter, corn ye're sawin'-- I' the hairst, again ye hae't.

I'm gaein' hame to see my mither-- She'll be weel acquant or this, Sair we'll muse at ane anither, 'Tween the auld word an' new kiss.

Love, I'm doubtin', will be scanty Roun' ye baith, when I'm awa'; But the kirk has happin' plenty Close aside me, for you twa.