II

Sir Launfal turned from his own hard gate, 250 For another heir in his earldom sate; An old, bent man, worn out and frail, He came back from seeking the Holy Grail: Little he recked of his earldom's loss, No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross. 255 But deep in his soul the sign he wore, The badge of the suffering and the poor.

III

Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare Was idle mail 'gainst the barbed air, For it was just at the Christmas time; 260 So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime, And sought for a shelter from cold and snow In the light and warmth of long ago; He sees the snake-like caravan crawl O'er the edge of the desert, black and small, 265 Then nearer and nearer, till, one by one, He can count the camels in the sun, As over the red-hot sands they pa.s.s To where, in its slender necklace of gra.s.s, The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade, 270 And with its own self like an infant played, And waved its signal of palms.

IV

"For Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms;"

The happy camels may reach the spring, But Sir Launfal sees only the grewsome thing, 275 The leper, lank as the rain-blanched bone, That cowers beside him, a thing as lone And white as the ice-isles of Northern seas In the desolate horror of his disease.

V

And Sir Launfal said,--"I behold in thee 280 An image of Him who died on the tree; Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns,-- And to thy life were not denied The wounds in the hands and feet and side; 285 Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me; Behold, through him, I give to thee!"

VI

Then the soul of the leper stood, up in his eyes And looked at Sir Launfal, and straightway he Remembered in what a haughtier guise 290 He had flung an alms to leprosie, When he girt his young life up in gilded mail And set forth in search of the Holy Grail.

The heart within him was ashes and dust; He parted in twain his single crust. 295 He broke the ice on the streamlet's brink.

And gave the leper to eat and drink; 'T was a moldy crust of coa.r.s.e brown bread, 'T was water out of a wooden bowl,-- Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, 300 And 't was red wine he drank with his thirsty soul.

VII

As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A light shone round about the place; The leper no longer crouched at his side, But stood before him glorified, 305 Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate,-- Himself the Gate whereby men can Enter the temple of G.o.d in Man.

VIII

His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine, 310 And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine, That mingle their softness and quiet in one With the s.h.a.ggy unrest they float down upon; And the voice that was softer than silence said, "Lo, it is I, be not afraid! 315 In many climes, without avail, Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail; Behold, it is here,--this cup which thou Didst fill at the streamlet for me but now; This crust is my body broken for thee, 320 This water his blood that died on the tree; The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with another's need,-- Not what we give, but what we share,-- For the gift without the giver is bare; 325 Who gives himself with his alms feeds three,-- Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me."

IX

Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound:-- "The Grail in my castle here is found!

Hang my idle armor up on the wall, 330 Let it be the spider's banquet-hall; He must be fenced with stronger mail Who would seek and find the Holy Grail."

X

The castle gate stands open now, And the wanderer is welcome to the hall 335 As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough; No longer scowl the turrets tall, The Summer's long siege at last is o'er; When the first poor outcast went in at the door, She entered with him in disguise, 340 And mastered the fortress by surprise; There is no spot she loves so well on ground, She lingers and smiles there the whole year round; The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land Has hall and bower at his command; 345 And there's no poor man in the North Countree But is lord of the earldom as much as he.

THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS

There came a youth upon the earth, Some thousand years ago, Whose slender hands were nothing worth, Whether to plow, or reap, or sow.

He made a lyre, and drew therefrom 5 Music so strange and rich, That all men loved to hear,--and some Muttered of f.a.gots for a witch.

But King Admetus, one who had Pure taste by right divine, 10 Decreed his singing not too bad To hear between the cups of wine.

And so, well pleased with being soothed Into a sweet half-sleep, Three times his kingly beard he smoothed. 15 And made him viceroy o'er his sheep.

His words were simple words enough, And yet he used them so, That what in other mouths were rough In his seemed musical and low. 20

Men called him but a shiftless youth, In whom no good they saw; And yet, unwittingly, in truth, They made his careless words their law.

They knew not how he learned at all, 25 For, long hour after hour, He sat and watched the dead leaves fall, Or mused upon a common flower.

It seemed the loveliness of things Did teach him all their use, 30 For, in mere weeds, and stones, and springs, He found a healing power profuse.

Men granted that his speech was wise, But, when a glance they caught Of his slim grace and woman's eyes, 35 They laughed, and called him good-for-naught.

Yet after he was dead and gone, And e'en his memory dim, Earth seemed more sweet to live upon, More full of love, because of him. 40

And day by day more holy grew Each spot where he had trod, Till after-poets only knew Their first-born brother as a G.o.d.

AN INCIDENT IN A RAILROAD CAR

He spoke of Burns: men rude and rough Pressed round to hear the praise of one Whose heart was made of manly, simple, stuff, As homespun as their own.

And, when he read, they forward leaned, 5 Drinking, with eager hearts and ears, His brook-like songs whom glory never weaned From humble smiles and tears.

Slowly there grew a tender awe, Sunlike, o'er faces brown and hard. 10 As if in him who read they felt and saw Some presence of the bard.

It was a sight for sin and wrong And slavish tyranny to see, A sight to make our faith more pure and strong 15 In high humanity.