And Bowman with his family
By the wall that the ivies bind.
XXIV
“As from a dream each sobered son
Awoke, and musing reached his door:
’Twas said that of them all, not one
Sat in a tavern more.”
XXV
– The sad man ceased; and ceased to heed
His listener, and crossed the leaze
From Moaning Hill towards the mead —
The Mead of Memories.
1897.
THE CHRISTENING
Whose child is this they bring
Into the aisle? —
At so superb a thing
The congregation smile
And turn their heads awhile.
Its eyes are blue and bright,
Its cheeks like rose;
Its simple robes unite
Whitest of calicoes
With lawn, and satin bows.
A pride in the human race
At this paragon
Of mortals, lights each face
While the old rite goes on;
But ah, they are shocked anon.
What girl is she who peeps
From the gallery stair,
Smiles palely, redly weeps,
With feverish furtive air
As though not fitly there?
“I am the baby’s mother;
This gem of the race
The decent fain would smother,
And for my deep disgrace
I am bidden to leave the place.”
“Where is the baby’s father?” —
“In the woods afar.
He says there is none he’d rather
Meet under moon or star
Than me, of all that are.
“To clasp me in lovelike weather,
Wish fixing when,
He says: To be together
At will, just now and then,
Makes him the blest of men;
“But chained and doomed for life
To slovening
As vulgar man and wife,
He says, is another thing:
Yea: sweet Love’s sepulchring!”
1904.
A DREAM QUESTION
“It shall be dark unto you, that ye shall not divine.”
Micah iii. 6.
I asked the Lord: “Sire, is this true
Which hosts of theologians hold,
That when we creatures censure you
For shaping griefs and ails untold
(Deeming them punishments undue)
You rage, as Moses wrote of old?
When we exclaim: ‘Beneficent
He is not, for he orders pain,
Or, if so, not omnipotent:
To a mere child the thing is plain!’
Those who profess to represent
You, cry out: ‘Impious and profane!’”
He: “Save me from my friends, who deem
That I care what my creatures say!
Mouth as you list: sneer, rail, blaspheme,
O manikin, the livelong day,
Not one grief-groan or pleasure-gleam
Will you increase or take away.
“Why things are thus, whoso derides,
May well remain my secret still.