Classic Poem

A LFRED .

You do not build — what are you thinking of?
I DA .

I watch you, and it gives me more delight,
For I have no great skill of hand, and still
My walls and windows fall as fast as risen.
A LFRED .

This is your house, — four stories high, at least,
With rounded windows, — say how it pleases you;
See, I can make queer figures round the windows
And over the wide door — now, that looks right;
It shall be quite a palace when 'tis done.
I DA .

How do you make it all secure?
A LFRED .

I know not;
It stands just of itself, I think. Here are
Broad steps in front, and basement windows here;
I soon shall finish, and then give it you
In a long speech.
I DA .

And I shall make reply,
And be all smiles, and say it is too much,
And nothing I have done deserves return,
And bow, and seem ashamed till all are gone,
When I can clap my hands and be plain glad.
A LFRED .

That will be fun — you girls are smart in speech;
I think you must have longer tongues than boys,
And pointed ones, for you are sharp at times,
And say what we can find no answer for.
How do you think a story more would look?
I DA .

Take care, or your frail sand-built house will fall;
You always go beyond the safety point,
And are impatient when your labors fail.
A LFRED .

Yet I will try, and you will sing the song
Mamma has taught you since we saw this place;
For somehow I can build best as you sing,
And raise my walls in concord with the sound,
For music is the only thing I know
Of the strange pranks you often tell me of
As passing in your brain not like my own.
I DA ( sings ).

I hear the waters call
Unto me;
Into a dream I fall
Of the sea;
I am borne in a slender boat
To where the moonset pallors float.

The white stars in the sky
Glint and gleam;
I hear no voice nor cry,
Save the stream
That is bearing me swiftly afar
Past earth's remotest bound and bar.

The moon rests on the sea,
Silver white,
And shines in strangest glee,
Subtly bright;
I pass to the viewless line
Where moon and tranced sea combine.

I am the Lady Moon,
And the sea,
I am the dim-toned tune —
Utterly —
The waves and the flakes of light
Making send down the blue-roofed night.

I die into a dream
Lighted dim,
I am the fitful stream
Of the hymn
The Sea and the Moon and the Night
Fashion for joy and pure delight.

A LFRED .

There now, 'tis done; did you bring down a doll?
She should walk in quite splendidly.

I DA .

I know not;
Here is the little one you do not like.
You will not have her mount your marble steps?

A LFRED .

No; but you said you meant to lose her soon,
Or give her to the girl lives next to us.

I DA .

And so I do; but I forgot last time
I saw her, and I left the homely doll
In this small apron-pocket unawares.

A LFRED .

It does not matter. Now I think of it,
I mean to build a church with lofty spires,
And pointed windows, like the one we saw
In the great city, — made as though the stone
Into fine lace-work everywhere were carved.

I DA .

And I shall go sit by the silvered strand,
And think how each small boat bears thought of me;
For I shall give to every one a dream
That it will bear, and I shall seem to float
Out where the great waves toss and writhe, and winds
Have room to flutter out their widest skirts,
And freely tread the water's rippled floor.
I only would it were the wondrous night,
Set thick with stars, and overruled
By the sweet lady moon.

A LFRED .

No, you must stay;
I cannot build alone, for if you sit,
And look on while I work, I can do better,
And my walls surelier rise. Now if you try,
You can make buildings too, old castles quaint,
With rounded peaked towers, or chapels small
For ladies grave to pray in.

I DA .

It is in vain;
My hands pull down, I cannot raise a wall.
But, see, the stranger comes — shall we run home,
Or go on with our play and mind him not?

A LFRED .

Why, let him come, he will not look nor speak.

The Stranger .

There is she now at play; her sweet grave face
Not lighted by a smile, and her dear eyes
Abashed beneath the flower-like lids. The sun
Is glad to play with her gold hair, and make
A fluctuant aureole abouTher head.
How I delight to see her little hands
Flicker across the sand in white fair gleams,
And all her motions glad as grace itself!
The lips are parted and I hear low sounds —
No song — but some dear chaos of dim tones
That will in time take shape, and be a tune
Taught by God's angels; O sweet child, mine own,
It cannot be that aught save loveliness
Can bloom or be where thou art — beauty's soul,
And Heaven grown visible. I have no fear,
I will go speak to her, although the boy
Perforce must bring the world into our speech,
And gloom across our realm of poetry,
Even as a mountain throws large shadows down
Where the small waves imprisoning fiery gold
Weave on the sea the miracle of the song
The day and wind and waters hold soul-hid,
Or as a steep and blossomless review
Frowns with deep shade upon a valley-poem,
Where the mild violets hide in pallid grass,
Where the white foam of rivulets blooms to die,
And all the winds are sweet with endless spring.

I DA .

Oh, brother, he is coming — let us go;
I fear thaThe will speak, and my heart beats
And chokes my breath. I feel afraid and strange;
I think his voice will be a wizard spell
To make me do what I desire not — come!
We shall return — pray, come — I dare not move
Save you are near to help.

A LFRED .

A little while
And we must start — for you know dinner waits;
Meanwhile I purpose finishing my church.
You are just foolish — let him say his say —
We need not answer, and he will pass on.
I am not troubled.

I DA .

Nay, buThe will speak,
And his voice cold as are his far-off eyes,
And his words strange as are his pale calm lips
Make me afraid or ere I hear. I know
His deeds and speech will be as fair as friendship,
Yet I would rather pass him by.

The Stranger .

A house —
And nearly reared a stately church — dear boy,
Your hands are skilful past the common wont.
Where learned you this fair craft? Your sister here
Gives help with her sweet smile — she labors not —
Or speaks encouragement with subtle words
You are most glad to hear. Were I at home
I might be aid in your exploits of art.

A LFRED .

I care not for your aid.

The Stranger .

But if you knew —
For I have books wherein tall dwellings stand,
Made in times past, and wonderful to see,
White temples shining in the midnoon sun
On heights that overlook the fair green fields,
Old palaces made splendid for great kings,
And ivy-clothed ruins, hoar and quaint.

A LFRED .

I care not for old books, and reading hard
For wits like mine to understand.

The Stranger .

His rudeness
Might make me pause — my voice clings to my throat,
And all my body shakes — 'tis always so
When I adventure in the outer world,
Nor dwell secure my soul within. Too late;
I cannot now refrain who see her face,
White and lustrous as the one star of eve.
'Tis not my wish that you should read my book —
These are fine pictures fit for eyes like yours
Or your sweet sister's. If I brought my book
Would you look on it with me?

I DA .

No.

A LFRED .

I think
My sister wishes not to speak with you;
For you are strange, and not like men we know.

The Stranger .

And yet I have desire to hear her voice.
She is not unlike a dear girl of mine
AbouTher age, and slender-shaped as she,
Whom I saw placed in the cold, rain-wet grave,
And I was left to weep. Dear gold-haired child,
How would it please to come with me? — my home
Is in the far-off hills; it stands alone
In a vast garden, where the largest flowers
Blossom and burn the summer through, and winds
Blow languid with the weight of perfumes, where
Under deep trees the winding pathways lead
To lakes set like clear stars on the green sky
Of grassy miles, where in the solemn shades
Of old oak woods the hours are filled with dreams,
And if you shut the outer sense you hear
The music that is played in fairy-land.
How would you like to go, and be mine own,
A daughter in my house of golden spells,
Where all you wished would speed from out your soul,
Swift changed to flowers for you to hold in hand,
Where you should be a queen — what say you, child?

I DA .

Oh, brother, it is time; I shake for fear —
He means to take me with him — give your hand.

A LFRED .

And I shall find a stone to throw at him;
But then he talks like you; my brain turns round
With wondering whaThe means.

The Stranger .

You are not going?
Let us walk by the sea, and watch the waves,
And see the fish gleam through the waters clear;
And I have tales to tell you of the past, —
The days when fairies hunted in the grass
On chargers small as are the gold-green flies
That star the air with fire; or of the days
When knights clad all in steel set thick with gold
Traversed the land to break enchanters' spells,
And free the long-haired damsels kept in chains
And held in noisome dungeons, where the light
Poured not its opulence of gifts; or days
When dryads shy lurked in the rustling woods,
And hoofed satyrs danced when old Pan played,
And through the roads of stars Diana sped,
The maiden-goddess white as are your thoughts,
My small Diana come to earth again.

A LFRED .

The stone just grazed him, we must turn and run,
He might strike with that slender stick of his.
I feel much grieved I did not hurt him sore,
But my hand trembled, and I could not throw.

I DA .

Now let us speed as quickly as we may;
I would not have you hurt him, but I fear,
And shall be glad to be at home again.

A LFRED .

Turn now and look — how his eyes follow us.

I DA .

How white he is, and seems most deeply sad!
If I but had more heart, I would go back,
And speak to him, and beg him not to mind,
And listen to one story, but I shiver so
I must get home; come, brother, hasten on.