See, see, once more, though all their souls be dead, They hold it up, triumphantly hold it up, They feel, they warm their hands upon the Cup; Their c.r.a.pulous hands, their claw-like hands break Bread!

See, with lean faces rapturously a-glow For a brief while they dream and munch and drink; Then, one by one, once more, silently slink Back, back into the gulfing mist. They go,

One by one, out of the ring of light!

They creep, like crippled rats, into the gloom, Into the fogs of life and death and doom, Into the night, the immeasurable night.

RED OF THE DAWN

I

The Dawn peered in with blood-shot eyes Pressed close against the cracked old pane.

The garret slept: the slow sad rain Had ceased: grey fogs obscured the skies; But Dawn peered in with haggard eyes.

II

All as last night? The three-legged chair, The bare walls and the tattered bed, All!--but for those wild flakes of red (And Dawn, perhaps, had splashed them there!) Round the bare walls, the bed, the chair.

III

'Twas here, last night, when winds were loud, A ragged singing-girl, she came Out of the tavern's glare and shame, With some few pence--for she was proud-- Came home to sleep, when winds were loud.

IV

And she sleeps well; for she was tired!

That huddled shape beneath the sheet With knees up-drawn, no wind or sleet Can wake her now! Sleep she desired; And she sleeps well, for she was tired.

V

And there was one that followed her With some unhappy curse called "love": Last night, though winds beat loud above, She shrank! Hark, on the creaking stair, What stealthy footstep followed her?

VI

But now the Curse, it seemed, had gone!

The small tin-box, wherein she hid Old childish treasures, had burst its lid.

Dawn kissed her doll's cracked face. It shone Red-smeared, but laughing--_the Curse is gone_.

VII

So she sleeps well: she does not move; And on the wall, the chair, the bed, Is it the Dawn that splashes red, High as the text where _G.o.d is Love_ Hangs o'er her head? She does not move.

VIII

The clock dictates its old refrain: All else is quiet; or, far away, Shaking the world with new-born day, There thunders past some mighty train: The clock dictates its old refrain.

IX

The Dawn peers in with blood-shot eyes: The crust, the broken cup are there!

She does not rise yet to prepare Her scanty meal. G.o.d does not rise And pluck the blood-stained sheet from her; But Dawn peers in with haggard eyes.

THE DREAM-CHILD'S INVITATION

I

_Once upon a time!_--Ah, now the light is burning dimly.

Peterkin is here again: he wants another tale!

Don't you hear him whispering--_The wind is in the chimley, The ottoman's a treasure-ship, we'll all set sail?_

II

All set sail? No, the wind is very loud to-night: The darkness on the waters is much deeper than of yore.

Yet I wonder--hark, he whispers--if the little streets are still as bright In old j.a.pan, in old j.a.pan, that happy haunted sh.o.r.e.

III

I wonder--hush, he whispers--if perhaps the world will wake again When Christmas brings the stories back from where the skies are blue, Where clouds are scattering diamonds down on every cottage window-pane, And every boy's a fairy prince, and every tale is true.

IV

There the sword Excalibur is thrust into the dragon's throat, Evil there is evil, black is black, and white is white: There the child triumphant hurls the villain spluttering into the moat; There the captured princess only waits the peerless knight.

V

Fairyland is gleaming there beyond the Sherwood Forest trees, There the City of the Clouds has anch.o.r.ed on the plain All her misty vistas and slumber-rosy palaces (_Shall we not, ah, shall we not, wander there again?_)

VI

"Happy ever after" there, the lights of home a welcome fling Softly thro' the darkness as the star that shone of old, Softly over Bethlehem and o'er the little cradled King Whom the sages worshipped with their frankincense and gold.