The Pier-Glass

The Finding of Love

Before this generous time Of Love in morning prime, He had long season stood Bound in a nightmare mood Of dense murk, rarely lit By Jack-o'-Lanthorn's flit And straightway smothered spark Of beasts' eyes in the dark, Mourning with sense adrift, Tears rolling swift. With o, for Sun to blaze Drying the cobweb-maze Dew-sagged upon the corn, With o, for flowering thorn, For fly and butterfly, For pigeons in the sky, For robin and thrush, For the long bulrush, For cherry under the leaf, For an end to grief, For joy in steadfastness. Then through his distress And clouded vision came An unknown gradual flame By silent hands controlled, Pale at first and cold, Like wizard's lily-bloom Conjured from the gloom, Like torch of glow-worm seen Through grasses shining green By children half in fright, Or Christmas candlelight Flung on the outer snow, Or tinsel stars that show Their evening glory With sheen of fairy story.

No more, no more, Forget that went before! Not a wrack remains Of all his former pains. Here's Love a drench of light, A Sun dazzling the sight, Well started on his race Towards the Zenith space Where fixed and sure He shall endure, Holding peace secure.

Now with his blaze He dries the cobweb maze Dew-sagging on the corn, He brings the flowering thorn, The fly and butterfly, And pigeons in the sky, The robin and the thrush, And the long bulrush, And cherry under the leaf, Earth in a silken dress, With end to grief, With love in steadfastness.

Reproach

Your grieving moonlight face looks down Through the forest of my fears, Crowned with a spiny bramble-crown, Dew-dropped with evening tears.

Why do you spell "untrue, unkind," Reproachful eyes plaguing my sleep? I am not guilty in my mind Of aught would make you weep.

Untrue? but how, what broken oath? Unkind? I know not even your name. Unkind, untrue, you charge me both, Scalding my heart with shame.

The black trees shudder, dropping snow, The stars tumble and spin. Speak, speak, or how may a child know His ancestral sin?

The Magical Picture

Glinting on the roadway A broken mirror lay: Then what did the child say Who found it there? He cried there was a goblin Looking out as he looked in-- Wild eyes and speckled skin, Black, bristling hair!

He brought it to his father Who being a simple sailor Swore, "This is a true wonder, Deny it who can! Plain enough to me, for one, It's a portrait aptly done Of Admiral, the great Lord Nelson When a young man."

The sailor's wife perceiving Her husband had some pretty thing At which he was peering, Seized it from his hand. Then tears started and ran free, "Jack, you have deceived me, I love you no more," said she, "So understand!"

"But, Mary," says the sailor, "This is a famous treasure, Admiral Nelson's picture Taken in youth." "Viper and fox," she cries, "To trick me with such lies, Who is this wench with the bold eyes? Tell the full truth!"

Up rides the parish priest Mounted on a fat beast. Grief and anger have not ceased Between those two; Little Tom still weeps for fear; He has seen Hobgoblin, near, Great white teeth and foul leer That pierced him through.

Now the old priest lifts his glove Bidding all for God's love To stand and not to move, Lest blood be shed. "O, O!" cries the urchin, "I saw the devil grin, He glared out, as I looked in; A true death's head!"

Mary weeps, "Ah, Father, My Jack loves another! On some voyage he courted her In a land afar." This, with cursing, Jack denies:-- "Father, use your own eyes: It is Lord Nelson in disguise As a young tar."

When the priest took the glass, Fresh marvels came to pass "A saint of glory, by the Mass! "Where got you this?" He signed him with the good Sign, Be sure the relic was divine, He would fix it in a shrine For pilgrims to kiss.

There the chapel folk who come (Honest, some, and lewd, some), See the saint's eyes and are dumb, Kneeling on the flags. Some see the Doubter Thomas, And some Nathaniel in the glass, And others whom but old Saint Judas With his money bags?

Distant Smoke

Seth and the sons of Seth who followed him Halted in silence: labour, then, was vain. Fast at the zenith, blazoned in his splendour, Hung the fierce Sun, wherefore these travelling folk Stood centred each in his own disc of shade. The term proposed was ended; now to enjoy The moment's melancholy; their tears fell shining.

Yesterday early at the dreadful hour, When life ebbs lowest, when the strand of being Is slowly bared until discovered show Weed-mantelled hulks that foundered years ago At autumn anchorage, then father Adam Summoned in haste his elder generations To his death-tent, and gasping spoke to them, Forthwith defining an immediate journey Beyond the eastern ridge, in quest for one Whom he named Cain, brother to Seth, true uncle To these young spearmen; they should lead him here For a last benediction at his hands.

First-born yet outlawed! Scarcely they believed In this strange word of "Cain," in this new man, Man, yet outside the tents; but Adam swore And gave them a fair sign of recognition. There was a brand, he said, a firm red pillar Parting Cain's brows, and Cain had mighty hands, Sprouting luxurious hair, red, like his beard. Moreover Adam said that by huge strength Himself could stay this ebb of early morning, Yet three days longer, three days, though no more-- This for the stern desire and long disquietude That was his love for Cain; whom God had cursed. Then would he kiss all fatherly and so die-- Kneeling, with eyes abased, they made him promise, Swore, at the midpoint of their second day, If unsped in the search of whom he named, They would come hasting home to Adam's tent. They touched his bony fingers; forth they went.

Now Seth, shielding his eyes, sees mistily Breaking the horizon thirty miles away (A full day's journey) what but a wisp, a feather, A thin line, half a nothing--distant smoke! Blown smoke, a signal from that utmost ridge Of desolation--the camp fire of Cain. He to restrain his twelve impetuous sons (He knows the razor-edge of their young spirit) Dissembles seeing, turns his steps about, Bids them come follow, but they little heeding, Scarce noting his commands, fasten their eyes On smoke, so forfeit Adam's benediction, Striding forward into the wilderness With eager thighs, forgetful of their oath, Adventurous for this monster, a new man, Their own kin--how accursed?--they haste for wonder.