English

( " MADELINE BRIDGES " )

Faint , faint and clear,
Faint as the music that in dreams we hear
Shaking the curtain-fold of sleep,
That shuts away
The world's hoarse voice, the sights and sounds of day,
Her sorry joys, her phantoms false and fleet, —
So softly, softly stirs
The wind's low murmur in the rippled wheat.

From west to east
The warm breath blows, the slender heads droop low
As if in prayer;
Again, more lightly tossed in merry play,
They bend and bow and sway

Fain would my thoughts fly up to Thee,
Thy peace, sweet Lord , to find;
But when I offer, still the world
Lays clogs upon my mind.

Sometimes I climb a little way
And thence look down below;
How nothing, there, do all things seem,
That here make such a show!

Then round about I turn my eyes
To feast my hungry sight;
I meet with Heaven in every thing,
In every thing delight.

When I have thus triumph'd awhile,
And think to build my nest,
Some cross conceits come fluttering by,

Fain would I rival thee
Monarch of birds
Soaring so loftily
Up to the clouds!
Spreading thy pinions
And mounting on air,
Ethereally floating
Divinely and fair.

Where is thy resting place?
Where dost thou dwell?
Is the mountain thy home
Or the stern rock thy cell?
Dost thou live in the desert?
Is the forest thy lair?
O, where is thy resting place?
Eagle, say where?

Always tending upward
May this be my aim;
Ne'er swerving from duty
Or shrinking from pain.

THE WIFE

Fain would I be sleeping, dreaming:
Heavy lies my head upon the pillow.
Up and down the passage goes my husband's father,
Angrily about it keeps he pacing.

CHORUS

Thumping, scolding, thumping, scolding, —
Never lets his daughter sleep.

FATHER-IN-LAW

Up, up, up, thou sloven there!
Up, up, up, thou sluggard there!
Slovenly, slatternly, sluggardish slut!

Fain I would, but oh, I dare not
Speak my thoughts at full to praise her:
" Speak the best," cries Love, " and spare not;
Thy speech can no higher raise her:
Thy speech than thy thought is lower,
Yet thy thoughts doth not half know her."

Ezra, whom not with eye nor with ear have I ever
(But nevertheless as one by a rhyme-beat, one
By the break of his syllables, one by a slow breath) known,
By doubts that in common between us two deliver
Better your face to me than the photograph,
Which besides they say lies — they say, that is, you were never
The beautiful boy with the sullen mouth, the giver
Of ambiguous apples — Ezra, you that could laugh

When the rest of them followed your hearse in five-years-ago's mud,
When the rest of them talked of the promise of youth cut off

1

Ezek'l saw de wheel, Ezek'l saw de wheel,
'Way up in de middle of de air.
De big wheel move by faith;
De little wheel move by de grace of God;
A wheel in a wheel,
'Way up in de middle of de air.
A wheel in a wheel, a wheel in a wheel,
Ezek'l saw de wheel,
'Way up in de middle of de air.

2

Keep a-inchin', keep a-inchin',
Jesus will come by and by;
Inch by inch, inch by inch,
Like a po' inch worm,
Jesus will come by and by.

3

It's me, O Lord; it's me, it's me,

Red mouths of lads for love God made:
God mindeth ever poor wights' ease; —
Yet men His kindly Will gainsayed!

In seemly innocence arrayed
To be in sooth, a grace to please, —
Red lips of lads for love God made.

He weened that Love might there be stayed
That steals into the blood to tease; —
Yet men His kindly Will gainsayed.

Ah, pretty kisses they had prayed
Did not cold Pride their duty seize: —
Red mouths of lads for Love God made;
Yet men His kindly Will gainsayed!

I woke at dawn — and you were lying there
Close to my side, yet turned away from me.
So when sleep caught us, you lay wearily
Within my arms; the fragrance of your hair
Like a narcotic drugged me into rest;
Though I would fain have foresworn sleep for joy, —
That you, quintessent Youth, my darling Boy,
Should lie abandoned on my throbbing breast.
So as I yearned above you, the first ray
Of the glad morning quickened through the gloom,
You felt my eager kisses on your face,
Opened your eyes and smiled — And it was day!

 The eyes open to a cry of pulleys,
And spirited from sleep, the astounded soul
Hangs for a moment bodiless and simple
As false dawn.
Outside the open window
The morning air is all awash with angels.

 Some are in bed-sheets, some are in blouses,
Some are in smocks: but truly there they are.
Now they are rising together in calm swells
Of halcyon feeling, filling whatever they wear
With the deep joy of their impersonal breathing;

 Now they are flying in place, conveying