Classic Poem

i

The meadows wear a cloth of gold,
The trees wear green;
Upon the down in dimpled fold
The white lambs glean;
Deep blue the skyey canopy,
Soft the wind's fan:
Behold the earth as it might be
If man lov'd man!

Summer is soon; the next new moon
Will see the yellowing wheat;
Then will be harvest, Earth's high boon
To them that work for it.
The reapers swink, the heat-waves blink
Across the drowsy fen--
Now let hearts shrink from scythes that drink
The blood of young men!


ii

As I stood at my open door
I caught a flying word:
Two strangers past, "Then that means war----"
That was what I heard.
'Twas ten o'clock, a summer's day,
My love on the hill.
"Then that means war," I heard them say,
And my heart stood still.

Life had been fair as I stood there,
Eight weeks a bride;
All of me laid warm and bare
To my true love's side!
Oh, who should dream of dark to-morrows
And lonely weeping
Whose steadfast joys and passing sorrows
Lay in such a keeping?

There blew a chill wind from the hill
Like a sea-breath;
I shiver'd and a taint of ill
Brought news of death.
I blinkt my eyes as who should try
To see what is to fear;
The sun still shone high in the sky,
But no warmth there.

Then far away I saw the sea
A rippling golden sheet,
And courage flowed again in me--
What foe could break thro' it?
And all about the fields and hedges,
There when I was born,
The river slipping through the sedges,
And the growing corn--

A land of quiet tilth and cote,
Of little woods and streams,
Of gentle skies and clouds afloat,
And swift sun-gleams!
A land where knee-deep cattle keep,
Chewing as they stand;
Of hillsides murmurous with sheep--
That is my native land!

They say you never love so dear
As when you are to part;
I know, to see my land so clear
Cut me to the heart.
What vain regrets to have lov'd so ill
What was our all!
What idle vows to love her still
Though she should fall!

At stroke of noon my love came in
Sharpset for his food;
To see him was right sense to win,
And feel safe and good.
I was asham'd my fears to tell
Lest he should think,
"I thought I knew this woman well--
But what makes her shrink?"


iii

The summer went her gracious way
Of sun and lingering eves;
I did my share to win the hay,
The corn stood in sheaves
Ere August month was fairly come;
And when it was here
I knew I carried in my womb
The harvest of my dear.


iv

When I was sure I sat down quiet
In the deep shade,
And if my heart was all in riot
I was not afraid.
I did not think, nor say a pray'r,
But lookt straight before me,
And felt that Someone else stood there
With hands held o'er me.

I thought His peace blest my increase;
But then, as it seem'd,
A shadow made my joy to cease,
And the day was dimm'd.
I shiver'd as if one a knife
Should pull forth of the sheath.
I think just then the Lord of Life
Gave way to Him of Death.

As one bestead with gossamer-thread
I pluckt at my eyes
To catch again the glory shed,
The hope, the load, the prize;
But no more hands invisible
Held like a shade o'er me,
And there seem'd little enough to tell
My husband momently.

The long forenoon my thought I held,
And yet all thro' it
The wires all England over shrill'd,
And I never knew it!
In a high muse I nurst my news
All the forenoon,
While England braced her limbs and thews
To a marching tune.


v

I serv'd my love, when he came home,
His meal; then on his knee
I told him what I might become,
And he kiss'd me;
Then said, "Indeed, there may be need
Of this little one,
For many a woman's heart must bleed
For wanting of a son.

"Since we awoke, the word is spoke,
And if 'tis still right
That English folk keep faith unbroke,
Then must England fight."
I could not look, nor think, nor ask
What himself would do,
But call'd to task my pride, to bask
In what had warm'd me thro'.

Oh, he was grave and self-possest
Under love's new crown!
He took me in his arms to rest,
And lay my head down
A moment on his shoulder; then
Went steady to his work.
I knew what fate soe'er call'd men
He was none to shirk.

Now I must play the helpful wife,
And my new pride
Be little worth to ease the strife
That vext me in the side;
For like a green and aching wound,
Like a throbbing vein
I felt this terror on the ground
Of young men slain.

The swooning summer sun sank low,
And all the dusty air
Held breathlessly beneath his glow,
So tir'd, so quiet and fair,
I would not think that men could live
In such glory a minute,
To hate and grudge, to slay and reive
Poor souls within it.


vi

I heard fond crying in my ears,
Fond and vain regret
For life as it had been ere tears
Made women's eyes wet;
I saw arise the host of stars
And listen'd to their song;
"O we have seen a thousand wars
And woe agelong!

"What are you men, what are you women
But a shifting sand?
The tide of life is overbrimming--
God holds not His hand;
But all the evil with the good
To His mill is grist;
He serves his mood now with man's blood
Who serv'd it once with beast."

So sang the stars. That night our love
Burn'd at its holiest;
For aught we knew the same might prove
Our last in the nest.
But from the bed my passion pled,
O God, let us be!
If woman's anguish her bestead,
Then forsake not me!


vii

I dare not trace that watching space
Of days, too short, too long--
Too long to wear a patient face,
Too short to wear a strong.
I us'd to think I'd have him choose
His duty and begone;
And then, No, no, I dare not lose
Him ere he take his son!

Too long, too short the days to wait,
To plan and think and dread;
And happy we whose poor estate
Claims our work for our bread.
Each day I went to scour and scrub
As my mother us'd,
Or stood before the washing-tub
Where the linen sluiced.

And so my love with careful hand
And careful eye
Led his white flock about the land;
And I must sigh,
"There's no rebelling in a poor man's dwelling,
The roof stoops to the blast;
And no heart-swelling meets God's compelling,
And what is cast is cast!"


viii

But as the tide crawls to his full
Without your knowing,
Invading rock and filling pool,
Endlessly flowing;
Lo, while you sit and look at it,
Idle, little thinking,
The flood is brimming at your feet,
Lipping there and winking--

The very same the Great War grew;
Like a flowing tide
It spread its channels thro' and thro'
The quiet countryside.
One day you'd stop: a poster up,
And Lord, how it glared!
The next there'd be a very crop,
And not a body stared.

And then the lorries flung along
By ones and twos, and then
In snaky line some twenty strong,
Full of shouting men.
They made me blench with noise and stench,
But more, I do believe,
To know them gaining inch by inch
The earth whereby we live.

So faded fast the painted past
Beneath the mist of war;
One could not think life had been cast
In sweet lines before.
There was no list in that red mist
For love or wholesome breath,
But making rage our staple grist
We ground the dust of death.

Our men held talk among themselves,
But said little to we;
And soon they went by tens and twelves
Soldiers to be.
I knew how 'twould be from the first,
I think my heart could tell;
I loved a man who never durst
Not do well.


ix

How young, how gay they marcht away,
All our village boys!
Leaving us women here to pray,
Drowning with their noise
Misdoubt and eager mother-love,
Hungry on the watch,
As if they went to race and shove
In a football match.

But my love chose in soberness
Another way, his own;
And God I bless that my distress
Came suddenly down.
A swift November night was falling
In a windless air;
I heard him indoors, heard him calling,
And went, and he was there.


x

He stood still, and his gaze
Was far off, and slow
And quiet the words he says:
"Nancy, I must go."

In my still heart's deep
I gloried in the trust
He handed me to keep,
In his quiet "I must."

No more we said that night,
But sat in the gloom;
We sat without candle-light
In our little room.

Handfast, like girl and boy,
There we sat on,
Hoarding our store of joy
Against he were gone.

Handfast, like boy and girl,
And my eyes they did fill;
But my heart was in a whirl
To have him there still.

'Twas when we were abed,
And I against his heart,
That I knew the great dread
It would be to part.

Old sayings, that sounded new,
Sweet, every broken word--
"My Nancy, sweet and true,
My pretty wild bird!"

I let him kiss me, but I
Lay quite still in his arm:
If I had started to cry
God only knew the harm!

And if he thought me cool
'Twould make an easier going;
But if he thought me cool
'Twas not for want of knowing.

Towards the twilight gray
When my love was sleeping,
I sat upright to pray,
And heard the sparrows cheeping.

It was their fond love-twitter
That broke my prayer down,
Turn'd all my faith bitter,
To set it by their own.

Their love-life to begin,
And mine now--where?
Their nest to win,
Mine soon to be bare!

I lookt forth from my bed
To the cold square of the light--
Unto God I said,
"Show me why men must fight,

"You, Who to each one say,
Love you one another;
You, Who bid women obey
Husbands, and sons their mother;

"You, Who of me require
To love what I cannot see,
Milk and a heart of fire
To nourish what may not be!

"Shall my milk be churn'd into gall,
Or my blood freeze at the fount,
And You make light of it all,
And my love of little account?"

Then as I held my throat,
God answer'd me by a bird,
One long flourishing note,
The bravest I ever heard;

And I turn'd where my love lay fast
In his wholesome sleep;
About him my arms I cast
And found grace to weep.

He would do what was right,
As I knew very well--
Yes, but who made them fight,
And turn'd our heaven to hell?

The more I listen the sighs,
The mourning and the dearth,
The deeper my heart cries
Over this wounded earth.