The Feast of Valentine.
I know how, day by weary day,
Hope fades, love fades, a thousand pleasures fade.
I have not
trudged in vain that way
On which life's
daylight darkens, shade by shade.
And still, with hopes decreasing, griefs increased,
Still, with what wit I have shall I, for one,
Keep open, at the
annual feast,
The puppet-booth of fun.
I care not if the wit be poor,
The old worn motley stained with rain and tears,
If but the courage still endure
That filled and strengthened hope in earlier years;
If still, with friends averted, fate severe,
A glad, untainted
cheerfulness be mine
To greet the
unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.
Priest, I am none of thine, and see
In the
perspective of still
hopeful youth
That Truth shall
triumph over thee -
Truth to one's self - I know no other truth.
I see strange days for thee and thine, O priest,
And how your doctrines, fallen one by one,
Shall furnish at the
annual feast
The puppet-booth of fun.
Stand on your putrid ruins - stand,
White neck-clothed bigot, fixedly the same,
Cruel with all things but the hand,
Inquisitor in all things but the name.
Back,
minister of Christ and source of fear -
We
cherish freedom - back with thee and thine
From this
unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.
Blood thou mayest spare; but what of tears?
But what of riven households, broken faith -
Bywords that cling through all men's years
And drag them surely down to shame and death?
Stand back, O cruel man, O foe of youth,
And let such men as
hearken not thy voice
Press
freely up the road to truth,
The King's
highway of choice.
HAIL! CHILDISH SLAVES OF SOCIAL RULES
HAIL! Childish slaves of social rules
You had yourselves a hand in making!
How I could shake your faith, ye fools,
If but I thought it worth the shaking.
I see, and pity you; and then
Go, casting off the idle pity,
In search of better, braver men,
My own way
freely through the city.
My own way
freely, and not yours;
And,
careless of a town's abusing,
Seek real friendship that endures
Among the friends of my own choosing.
I'll choose my friends myself, do you hear?
And won't let Mrs. Grundy do it,
Tho' all I honour and hold dear
And all I hope should move me to it.
I take my old coat from the shelf -
I am a man of little breeding.
And only dress to please myself -
I own, a very strange proceeding.
I smoke a pipe
abroad, because
To all cigars I much prefer it,
And as I scorn your social laws
My choice has nothing to deter it.
Gladly I
trudge the footpath way,
While you and yours roll by in coaches
In all the pride of fine array,
Through all the city's thronged approaches.
O fine religious,
decent folk,
In Virtue's flaunting gold and scarlet,
I sneer between two puffs of smoke, -
Give me the publican and harlot.
Ye dainty-spoken, stiff, severe
Seed of the migrated Philistian,
One whispered question in your ear -
Pray, what was Christ, if you be Christian?
If Christ were only here just now,
Among the city's wynds and gables
Teaching the life he taught us, how
Would he be
welcome to your tables?
I go and leave your logic-straws,
Your former-friends with face averted,
Your petty ways and narrow laws,
Your Grundy and your God, deserted.
From your frail ark of lies, I flee
I know not where, like Noah's raven.
Full to the broad, unsounded sea
I swim from your
dishonest haven.
Alone on that unsounded deep,
Poor waif, it may be I shall perish,
Far from the course I thought to keep,
Far from the friends I hoped to
cherish.
It may be that I shall sink, and yet
Hear, thro' all taunt and
scornful laughter,
Through all defeat and all regret,
The stronger swimmers coming after.
SWALLOWS TRAVEL TO AND FRO
SWALLOWS travel to and fro,
And the great winds come and go,
And the steady
breezes blow,
Bearing
perfume,
bearing love.
Breezes
hasten, swallows fly,
Towered clouds forever ply,
And at
noonday, you and I
See the same
sunshine above.
Dew and rain fall everywhere,
Harvests ripen, flowers are fair,
And the whole round earth is bare
To the moonshine and the sun;
And the live air, fanned with wings,
Bright with
breeze and
sunshine, brings
Into
contact distant things,
And makes all the countries one.
Let us
wander where we will,
Something
kindred greets us still;
Something seen on vale or hill
Falls familiar on the heart;
So, at scent or sound or sight,
Severed souls by day and night
Tremble with the same delight -
Tremble, half the world apart.
TO MESDAMES ZASSETSKY AND GARSCHINE
THE wind may blaw the lee-gang way
And aye the lift be mirk an' gray,
An deep the moss and steigh the brae
Where a' maun gang -
There's still an hoor in ilka day
For luve and sang.
And canty hearts are
strangely steeled.
By some dikeside they'll find a bield,
Some couthy neuk by muir or field
They're sure to hit,
Where, frae the blatherin' wind concealed,
They'll rest a bit.
An' weel for them if kindly fate
Send ower the hills to them a mate;
They'll crack a while o' kirk an' State,
O' yowes an' rain:
An' when it's time to take the gate,
Tak' ilk his ain.
- Sic neuk beside the southern sea
I soucht - sic place o' quiet lee
Frae a' the winds o' life. To me,
Fate,
rarely fair,
Had set a freendly company
To meet me there.
Kindly by them they gart me sit,
An' blythe was I to bide a bit.
Licht as o' some hame
fireside lit
My life for me.
- Ower early maun I rise an' quit
This happy lee.
TO MADAME GARSCHINE
WHAT is the face, the fairest face, till Care,
Till Care the graver - Care with
cunning hand,
Etches content thereon and makes it fair,
Or
constancy, and love, and makes it grand?
MUSIC AT THE VILLA MARINA
FOR some abiding central source of power,
Strong-smitten steady chords, ye seem to flow
And, flowing, carry
virtue. Far below,
The vain tumultuous passions of the hour
Fleet fast and disappear; and as the sun
Shines on the wake of tempests, there is cast
O'er all the shattered ruins of my past
A strong
contentment as of battles won.
And yet I cry in
anguish, as I hear
The long drawn
pageant of your passage roll
Magnificently forth into the night.
To yon fair land ye come from, to yon
sphereOf strength and love where now ye shape your flight,
O even wings of music, bear my soul!
Ye have the power, if but ye had the will,
Strong-smitten steady chords in
sequence grand,
To bear me forth into that
tranquil land
Where good is no more ravelled up with ill;
Where she and I,
remote upon some hill
Or by some quiet river's windless strand,
May live, and love, and
wander hand in hand,
And follow nature simply, and be still.
From this grim world, where, sadly, prisoned, we
Sit bound with others' heart-strings as with chains,
And, if one moves, all suffer, - to that Goal,
If such a land, if such a
sphere, there be,
Thither, from life and all life's joys and pains,
O even wings of music, bear my soul!
FEAR NOT, DEAR FRIEND, BUT FREELY LIVE YOUR DAYS
FEAR not, dear friend, but
freely live your days
Though
lesser lives should suffer. Such am I,
A
lesser life, that what is his of sky
Gladly would give for you, and what of praise.
Step, without trouble, down the sunlit ways.
We that have touched your
raiment, are made whole
From all the
selfish cankers of man's soul,
And we would see you happy, dear, or die.
Therefore be brave, and
therefore, dear, be free;
Try all things
resolutely, till the best,
Out of all
lesser betters, you shall find;
And we, who have
learnedgreatness from you, we,