rivers to the sea-第5章
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RIVERS TO THE SEA
Mary sat in the corner weeping；
Bitter and hot her tears
Little faith were the angels keeping
All the years。
THE CARPENTER'S SON
THE summer dawn came over…soon；
The earth was like hot iron at noon
In Nazareth；
There fell no rain to ease the heat；
And dusk drew on with tired feet
And stifled breath。
The shop was low and hot and square；
And fresh…cut wood made sharp the air；
While all day long
The saw went tearing thru the oak
That moaned as tho' the tree's heart broke
Beneath its wrong。
The narrow street was full of cries；
Of bickering and snarling lies
In many keys
RIVERS TO THE SEA
The tongues of Egypt and of Rome
And lands beyond the shifting foam
Of windy seas。
Sometimes a ruler riding fast
Scattered the dark crowds as he passed；
And drove them close
In doorways； drawing broken breath
Lest they be trampled to their death
Where the dust rose。
There in the gathering night and noise
A group of Galilean boys
Crowding to see
Gray Joseph toiling with his son；
Saw Jesus； when the task was done；
Turn wearily。
He passed them by with hurried tread
Silently； nor raised his head；
He who looked up
RIVERS TO THE SEA
Drinking all beauty from his birth
Out of the heaven and the earth
As from a cup。
And Mary； who was growing old；
Knew that the pottage would be cold
When he returned；
He hungered only for the night；
And westward； bending sharp and bright；
The thin moon burned。
He reached the open western gate
Where whining halt and leper wait；
And came at last
To the blue desert； where the deep
Great seas of twilight lay asleep；
Windless and vast。
With shining eyes the stars awoke；
The dew lay heavy on his cloak；
The world was dim；
RIVERS TO THE SEA
And in the stillness he could hear
His secret thoughts draw very near
And call to him。
Faint voices lifted shrill with pain
And multitudinous as rain；
From all the lands
And all the villages thereof
Men crying for the gift of love
With outstretched hands。
Voices that called with ceaseless crying；
The broken and the blind； the dying；
And those grown dumb
Beneath oppression； and he heard
Upon their lips a single word；
〃Come！〃
Their cries engulfed him like the night；
The moon put out her placid light
And black and low
RIVERS TO THE SEA
Nearer the heavy thunder drew；
Hushing the voices 。 。 。 yet he knew
That he would go。
* * * * * *
A quick…spun thread of lightning burns；
And for a flash the day returns
He only hears
Joseph； an old man bent and white
Toiling alone from morn till night
Thru all the years。
Swift clouds make all the heavens blind；
A storm is running on the wind
He only sees
How Mary will stretch out her hands
Sobbing； who never understands
Voices like these。
THE MOTHER OF A POET
SHE is too kind； I think； for mortal things；
Too gentle for the gusty ways of earth；
God gave to her a shy and silver mirth；
And made her soul as clear
And softly singing as an orchard spring's
In sheltered hollows all the sunny year
A spring that thru the leaning grass looks up
And holds all heaven in its clarid cup；
Mirror to holy meadows high and blue
With stars like drops of dew。
I love to think that never tears at night
Have made her eyes less bright；
That all her girlhood thru
Never a cry of love made over…tense
Her voice's innocence；
That in her hands have lain；
Flowers beaten by the rain；
RIVERS TO THE SEA
And little birds before they learned to sing
Drowned in the sudden ecstasy of spring。
I love to think that with a wistful wonder
She held her baby warm against her breast；
That never any fear awoke whereunder
She shuddered at her gift； or trembled lest
Thru the great doors of birth
Here to a windy earth
She lured from heaven a half…unwilling guest。
She caught and kept his first vague flickering smile；
The faint upleaping of his spirit's fire；
And for a long sweet while
In her was all he asked of earth or heaven
But in the end how far；
Past every shaken star；
Should leap at last that arrow…like desire；
His full…grown manhood's keen
Ardor toward the unseen
Dark mystery beyond the Pleiads seven。
RIVERS TO THE SEA
And in her heart she heard
His first dim…spoken word
She only of them all could understand；
Flushing to feel at last
The silence over…past；
Thrilling as tho' her hand had touched God's hand。
But in the end how many words
Winged on a flight she could not follow；
Farther than skyward lark or swallow；
His lips should free to lands she never knew；
Braver than white sea…faring birds
With a fearless melody；
Flying over a shining sea；
A star…white song between the blue and blue。
Oh I have seen a lake as clear and fair
As it were molten air；
Lifting a lily upward to the sun。
How should the water know the glowing heart
That ever to the heaven lifts its fire；
RIVERS TO THE SEA
A golden and unchangeable desire？
The water only knows
The faint and rosy glows
Of under…petals； opening apart。
Yet in the soul of earth；
Deep in the primal ground；
Its searching roots are wound；
And centuries have struggled toward its birth。
So； in the man who sings；
All of the voiceless horde
From the cold dawn of things
Have their reward；
All in whose pulses ran
Blood that is his at last；
From the first stooping man
Far in the winnowed past。
Out of the tumult of their love and mating
Each one created； seeing life was good
Dumb； till at last the song that they were waiting
Breaks like brave April thru a wintry wood。
RIVERS TO TOE SEA
But what of her whose heart is troubled by it；
The mother who would soothe and set him free；
Fearing the song's storm…shaken ecstasy
Oh； as the moon that has no power to quiet
The strong wind…driven sea。
。
IN MEMORIAM F。 O。 S。
You go a long and lovely journey；
For all the stars； like burning dew；
Are luminous and luring footprints
Of souls adventurous as you。
Oh； if you lived on earth elated；
How is it now that you can run
Free of the weight of flesh and faring
Far past the birthplace of the sun？
TWILIGHT
THE stately tragedy of dusk
Drew to its perfect close；
The virginal white evening star
Sank； and the red moon rose。
SWALLOW FLIGHT
I LOVE my hour of wind and light；
I love men's faces and their eyes；
I love my spirit's veering flight
Like swallows under evening skies；
THOUGHTS
WHEN I can make my thoughts come forth
To walk like ladies up and down；
Each one puts on before the glass
Her most becoming hat and gown。
But oh； the shy and eager thoughts
That hide and will not get them dressed；
Why is it that they always seem
So much more lovely than the rest？
TO DICK； ON HIS SIXTH BIRTHDAY
Tho' I am very old and wise；
And you are neither wise nor old；
When I look far into your eyes；
I know things I was never told：
I know how flame must strain and fret
Prisoned in a mortal net；
How joy with over…eager wings；
Bruises the small heart where he sings；
How too much life； like too much gold；
Is sometimes very hard to hold。 。 。 。
All that is talkingI know
This much is true； six years ago
An angel living near the moon
Walked thru the sky and sang a
