Poems By the Way

She stood before him face to face, With the sun-beam thwart her hand, As on the gold of the Holy Place The painted angels stand.

With many a kiss she closed his eyes; She kissed him cheek and chin: E'en so in the painted Paradise Are Earth's folk welcomed in.

There in the door the green-coats stood, O'er the bows went up the cry, "O welcome, Rafe, to the free green-wood, With us to live and die."

It was bill and bow by the high-seat stood, And they cried above the bows, "Now welcome, Rafe, to the good green-wood, And welcome Kate the Rose!"

White, white in the moon is the woodland plash, White is the woodland glade, Forth wend those twain, from oak to ash, With light hearts unafraid.

The summer moon high o'er the hill, All silver-white is she, And Sir Rafe's good men with bow and bill, They go by two and three.

In the fair green-wood where lurks no fear, Where the King's writ runneth not, There dwell they, friends and fellows dear, While summer days are hot,

And when the leaf from the oak-tree falls, And winds blow rough and strong, With the carles of the woodland thorps and halls They dwell, and fear no wrong.

And there the merry yule they make, And see the winter wane, And fain are they for true-love's sake, And the folk thereby are fain.

For the ploughing carle and the straying herd Flee never for Sir Rafe: No barefoot maiden wends afeard, And she deems the thicket safe.

But sore adread do the chapmen ride; Wide round the wood they go; And the judge and the sergeants wander wide, Lest they plead before the bow.

Well learned and wise is Sir Rafe's good sword, And straight the arrows fly, And they find the coat of many a lord, And the crest that rideth high.

THE DAY OF DAYS.

Each eve earth falleth down the dark, As though its hope were o'er; Yet lurks the sun when day is done Behind to-morrow's door.

Grey grows the dawn while men-folk sleep, Unseen spreads on the light, Till the thrush sings to the coloured things, And earth forgets the night.

No otherwise wends on our Hope: E'en as a tale that's told Are fair lives lost, and all the cost Of wise and true and bold.

We've toiled and failed; we spake the word; None hearkened; dumb we lie; Our Hope is dead, the seed we spread Fell o'er the earth to die.

What's this? For joy our hearts stand still, And life is loved and dear, The lost and found the Cause hath crowned, The Day of Days is here.

TO THE MUSE OF THE NORTH.

O muse that swayest the sad Northern Song, Thy right hand full of smiting & of wrong, Thy left hand holding pity; & thy breast Heaving with hope of that so certain rest: Thou, with the grey eyes kind and unafraid, The soft lips trembling not, though they have said The doom of the World and those that dwell therein. The lips that smile not though thy children win The fated Love that draws the fated Death. O, borne adown the fresh stream of thy breath, Let some word reach my ears and touch my heart, That, if it may be, I may have a part In that great sorrow of thy children dead That vexed the brow, and bowed adown the head, Whitened the hair, made life a wondrous dream, And death the murmur of a restful stream, But left no stain upon those souls of thine Whose greatness through the tangled world doth shine. O Mother, and Love and Sister all in one, Come thou; for sure I am enough alone That thou thine arms about my heart shouldst throw, And wrap me in the grief of long ago.

OF THE THREE SEEKERS.

There met three knights on the woodland way, And the first was clad in silk array: The second was dight in iron and steel, But the third was rags from head to heel. "Lo, now is the year and the day come round When we must tell what we have found." The first said: "I have found a king Who grudgeth no gift of anything." The second said: "I have found a knight Who hath never turned his back in fight." But the third said: "I have found a love That Time and the World shall never move."

Whither away to win good cheer? "With me," said the first, "for my king is near." So to the King they went their ways; But there was a change of times and days. "What men are ye," the great King said, "That ye should eat my children's bread? My waste has fed full many a store, And mocking and grudge have I gained therefore. Whatever waneth as days wax old, Full worthy to win are goods and gold."

Whither away to win good cheer? "With me," said the second, "my knight is near." So to the knight they went their ways, But there was a change of times and days. He dwelt in castle sure and strong, For fear lest aught should do him wrong. Guards by gate and hall there were, And folk went in and out in fear. When he heard the mouse run in the wall, "Hist!" he said, "what next shall befal? Draw not near, speak under your breath, For all new-corners tell of death. Bring me no song nor minstrelsy, Round death it babbleth still," said he. "And what is fame and the praise of men, When lost life cometh not again?"

Whither away to seek good cheer? "Ah me!" said the third, "that my love were anear! Were the world as little as it is wide, In a happy house should ye abide. Were the world as kind as it is hard, Ye should behold a fair reward."

So far by high and low have they gone, They have come to a waste was rock and stone. But lo, from the waste, a company Full well bedight came riding by; And in the midst, a queen, so fair, That God wrought well in making her. The first and second knights abode To gaze upon her as she rode, Forth passed the third with head down bent, And stumbling ever as he went. His shoulder brushed her saddle-bow; He trembled with his head hung low. His hand brushed o'er her golden gown, As on the waste he fell adown. So swift to earth her feet she set, It seemed that there her arms he met. His lips that looked the stone to meet Were on her trembling lips and sweet. Softly she kissed him cheek and chin, His mouth her many tears drank in. "Where would'st thou wander, love," she said, "Now I have drawn thee from the dead?" "I go my ways," he said, "and thine Have nought to do with grief and pine." "All ways are one way now," she said, "Since I have drawn thee from the dead." Said he, "But I must seek again Where first I met thee in thy pain: I am not clad so fair," said he, "But yet the old hurts thou may'st see. And thou, but for thy gown of gold, A piteous tale of thee were told." "There is no pain on earth," she said, "Since I have drawn thee from the dead." "And parting waiteth for us there," Said he, "As it was yester-year." "Yet first a space of love," she said, "Since I have drawn thee from the dead." He laughed; said he, "Hast thou a home Where I and these my friends may come?" Laughing, "The world's my home," she said, "Now I have drawn thee from the dead. Yet somewhere is a space thereof Where I may dwell beside my love. There clear the river grows for him Till o'er its stones his keel shall swim. There faint the thrushes in their song, And deem he tarrieth overlong. There summer-tide is waiting now Until he bids the roses blow. Come, tell my flowery fields," she said, "How I have drawn thee from the dead."

Whither away to win good cheer? "With me," he said, "for my love is here. The wealth of my house it waneth not; No gift it giveth is forgot. No fear my house may enter in, For nought is there that death may win. Now life is little, and death is nought, Since all is found that erst I sought."