And now your answer comes at last:-- "I loved you in that day."

Oh, strange reply! Oh, tender past!

Oh, long love locked away!

And now, yes, I have climbed Love's hill; My heart is bound, yet free.

And is there not some young child still For you to love in me?

You have the right to love her yet, For he who loves me grown Knew not the child you'll ne'er forget; I give her for your own.

Oh, keep her young within your breast, Allow her to survive; For love of you _I'll_ do my best To keep your child alive.

FRANCIS MEYNELL

_ANY STONE_

A myriad years G.o.d toiled to mould A nerveless stone to His intent-- From peace to war, from heat to cold, It triumphed against the Omnipotent: G.o.d strove until His strength grew old, Then cried "Thy help, My firmament!"

The stars in succour gave their light, The aiding moon her ocean-sway; At dawn and dusk the hosts of night Watched round the battle-fires of day ...

To set the dust He loved aright G.o.d called His winds to that array,

And all the burden of the world, And all the tears from all men's eyes, Drought, dew, and every flower unfurled, The priest, the fire, the sacrifice, The pillared cloud, His thunder hurled-- Victor, He held as nought the price!

Thus loved, thus wrought, G.o.d deemed the stone Fit bed for beasts to lie upon.

O G.o.d of G.o.ds, make short my days Of blind approach to her and Thee; Life-long upon Thy rugged ways Her heart has danced: she calls to me.

Hast Thou forgotten me alone, O Watcher where the wild beast lies?-- Mould to Thy will this other stone --A stone, yet precious in her eyes.

_LUX IN TENEBRIS_

Spirit of smiles and tears, you came to me in the night, The golden moon aglow in your hair, and the spear-driven light Of an army of stars in your eyes, weary with truant sleep.

O little skilled in self, who thought you came to weep!

Out of the darkness, light; flame in the virgin dew!

Love came unto her own, and knew him not, who knew.

O understood! O known! O apprehended bliss!

O self unskilled in self! O taught of my one kiss!

_MATER INVIOLATA_

A maiden's love most nuptial is, Innocent of his nuptial kiss; And only after marriage call Her lips, her pa.s.sion, virginal!

For when she dreams, who is beloved, The ancient miracle stands proved-- Virginity's much Motherhood!

For O, the unborn babes she keeps, The unthought glory, lips unwooed!-- And O, the quickening of her sleeps Whose dreams, dreamed over, do repeat The echoes of Love's falling feet!

For his, her young inviolate mouth Longs with the longing of long drouth: And, lacking substance for such feast, She clasps a dream-baby to breast, And kisses, where her head has place, The dream-lips of her love's dream-face!

On the decked bridal bed of Night She knows the Moon shows maiden light-- The Sun's kiss urged in marriage-rite!

So, when her very night shall come, Virginal, in her virgin home When stars show unfamiliar faces, Laughing for love in their high places-- When her essential lips are dumb In a thronged panic of embraces-- Her maiden heart, her spousal breast, Shall throb, surrendered and possessed, Throb, pa.s.sion-sweet and ungainsaid-- "Now at the last am I a Maid!"

_SONG-BURDEN_

I do confess I have no art To tell the tale of my own heart.

Of lips and tears, of hearts and eyes, I rhyme my rhymes and fear my fears; And if of these I make you wise, These pictured hearts, these lips, these tears, There is nought to do; I have played my part.

And I, a captain of much guile, Within your ranks dissensions preach Till all are jealous, each of each-- Your eyes, lips, heart, a tear, a smile!

So, when you turn your eyes away From mirrored eyes, and when you stay Love-hearing with reluctant hand, Straight then your heart-throbs will betray That you have read, and understand!

And should your maiden heart uprise Against fain ears and full-fain eyes, Upon your lips, that cannot err, I set my kiss-interpreter!

Or hold you steadfast as allies Your heart, hand, lips, your smiles, your all, Your faithful eyes are traitrous eyes-- Out-steals a tear to your downfall!

Your heart, your eyes, the lips of you --Hesitant and full-fain your eyes!-- Make all my song; have I sung true?

Make all my song; are you song-wise?

_GIFTS_

My given gifts have been, ah me!

Sorrow, and superfluity.

You needed primal force, and this Was all my giving--emphasis.

For your mute voice more mute I made, And at your singing proffered song; You trembled, and I was afraid-- Were pierced, I fell on the same blade-- Triumphed, and then my arm was strong.

For peace I builded on your peace, And on your weakness mine up-piled; Of too fond hope I made increase, And at your smilings, as a child, Ignorant of their cost, I smiled.

Always I fear at sight of fears, And always weep at weeping eyes; O my Beloved, take my tears, Take my sighs!

And these, and these, alas! shall be Sorrow, and superfluity.

_WRAITH_

Mine was not equal of her trust-- As whose, my friend, as whose should be?-And now, a panic dream of dust, She comes to haunt the heart of me;

She comes to haunt my heart for this, And lo, a glory of my sighs!

For still her phantom lips I kiss, Who cannot meet her phantom eyes.

_A DEDICATION_