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THEY HEAR THE SIRENS FOR THE SECOND TIME。
The weary sails a moment slept；
The oars were silent for a space；
As past Hesperian shores we swept；
That were as a remembered face
Seen after lapse of hopeless years；
In Hades； when the shadows meet；
Dim through the mist of many tears；
And strange； and though a shadow； sweet。
So seemed the half…remembered shore；
That slumbered； mirrored in the blue；
With havens where we touched of yore；
And ports that over well we knew。
Then broke the calm before a breeze
That sought the secret of the west；
And listless all we swept the seas
Towards the Islands of the Blest。
Beside a golden sanded bay
We saw the Sirens； very fair
The flowery hill whereon they lay；
The flowers set upon their hair。
Their old sweet song came down the wind；
Remembered music waxing strong； …
Ah now no need of cords to bind；
No need had we of Orphic song。
It once had seemed a little thing
To lay our lives down at their feet；
That dying we might hear them sing；
And dying see their faces sweet；
But now； we glanced； and passing by；
No care had we to tarry long；
Faint hope； and rest； and memory
Were more than any Siren's song。
CIRCE'S ISLE REVISITED。
Ah； Circe； Circe！ in the wood we cried；
Ah； Circe； Circe！ but no voice replied；
No voice from bowers o'ergrown and ruinous
As fallen rocks upon the mountain side。
There was no sound of singing in the air；
Faded or fled the maidens that were fair；
No more for sorrow or joy were seen of us；
No light of laughing eyes； or floating hair。
The perfume； and the music； and the flame
Had passed away； the memory of shame
Alone abode； and stings of faint desire；
And pulses of vague quiet went and came。
Ah； Circe！ in thy sad changed fairy place；
Our dead youth came and looked on us a space；
With drooping wings； and eyes of faded fire。
And wasted hair about a weary face。
Why had we ever sought the magic isle
That seemed so happy in the days erewhile？
Why did we ever leave it； where we met
A world of happy wonders in one smile？
Back to the westward and the waning light
We turned； we fled； the solitude of night
Was better than the infinite regret；
In fallen places of our dead delight。
THE LIMIT OF LANDS。
Between the circling ocean sea
And the poplars of Persephone
There lies a strip of barren sand；
Flecked with the sea's last spray； and strown
With waste leaves of the poplars； blown
From gardens of the shadow land。
With altars of old sacrifice
The shore is set； in mournful wise
The mists upon the ocean brood；
Between the water and the air
The clouds are born that float and fare
Between the water and the wood。
Upon the grey sea never sail
Of mortals passed within our hail；
Where the last weak waves faint and flow；
We heard within the poplar pale
The murmur of a doubtful wail
Of voices loved so long ago。
We scarce had care to die or live；
We had no honey cake to give；
No wine of sacrifice to shed；
There lies no new path over sea；
And now we know how faint they be；
The feasts and voices of the dead。
Ah； flowers and dance！ ah； sun and snow！
Glad life； sad life we did forego
To dream of quietness and rest；
Ah； would the fleet sweet roses here
Poured light and perfume through the drear
Pale year； and wan land of the west。
Sad youth； that let the spring go by
Because the spring is swift to fly；
Sad youth； that feared to mourn or love；
Behold how sadder far is this；
To know that rest is nowise bliss；
And darkness is the end thereof。
VERSES
MARTIAL IN TOWN。
Last night； within the stifling train；
Lit by the foggy lamp o'erhead；
Sick of the sad Last News； I read
Verse of that joyous child of Spain；
Who dwelt when Rome was waxing cold；
Within the Roman din and smoke。
And like my heart to me they spoke；
These accents of his heart of old：…
〃Brother； had we but time to live；
And fleet the careless hours together；
With all that leisure has to give
Of perfect life and peaceful weather；
〃The Rich Man's halls； the anxious faces；
The weary Forum； courts； and cases
Should know us not； but quiet nooks；
But summer shade by field and well；
But county rides； and talk of books；
At home； with these； we fain would dwell！
〃Now neither lives； but day by day
Sees the suns wasting in the west；
And feels their flight； and doth delay
To lead the life he loveth best。〃
So from thy city prison broke；
Martial； thy wail for life misspent；
And so； through London's noise and smoke
My heart replies to the lament。
For dear as Tagus with his gold；
And swifter Salo； were to thee；
So dear to me the woods that fold
The streams that circle Fernielea！
APRIL ON TWEED。
As birds are fain to build their nest
The first soft sunny day；
So longing wakens in my breast
A month before the May；
When now the wind is from the West；
And Winter melts away。
The snow lies yet on Eildon Hill；
But soft the breezes blow。
If melting snows the waters fill；
We nothing heed the snow；
But we must up and take our will； …
A fishing will we go！
Below the branches brown and bare；
Beneath the primrose lea；
The trout lies waiting for his fare；
A hungry trout is he；
He's hooked； and springs and splashes there
Like salmon from the sea！
Oh； April tide's a pleasant tide；
However times may fall；
And sweet to welcome Spring； the Bride；
You hear the mavis call；
But all adown the water…side
The Spring's most fair of all。
TIRED OF TOWNS。
'When we spoke to her of the New Jerusalem； she said she would
rather go to a country place in Heaven。'
Letters from the Black Country。
I'm weary of towns； it seems a'most a pity
We didn't stop down i' the country and clem；
And you say that I'm bound for another city；
For the streets o' the New Jerusalem。
And the streets are never like Sheffield； here；
Nor the smoke don't cling like a smut to THEM；
But the water o' life flows cool and clear
Through the streets o' the New Jerusalem。
And the houses； you say； are of jasper cut；
And the gates are gaudy wi' gold and gem；
But there's times I could wish as the gates was shut …
The gates o' the New Jerusalem。
For I come from a country that's over…built
Wi' streets that stifle； and walls that hem；
And the gorse on a common's worth all the gilt
And the gold of your New Jerusalem。
And I hope that they'll bring me； in Paradise；
To green lanes leafy wi' bough and stem …
To a country place in the land o' the skies；
And not to the New Jerusalem。
SCYTHE SONG。
Mowers； weary and brown； and blithe；
What is the word methinks ye know；
Endless over…word that the Scythe
Sings to the blades of the grass below？
Scythes that swing in the grass and clover；
Something； still； they say as they pass；
What is the word that； over and over；
Sings the Scythe to the flowers and grass？
HUSH； AH HUSH； the Scythes are saying；
HUSH； AND HEED NOT； AND FALL ASLEEP；
HUSH； they say to the grasses swaying；
HUSH； they sing to the clover deep！
HUSH … 'tis the lullaby Time is singing …
HUSH； AND HEED NOT； FOR ALL THINGS PASS；
HUSH； AH HUSH！ and the Scythes are swinging
Over the clover； over the grass！
PEN AND INK。
Ye wanderers that were my sires；
Who read men's fortunes in the hand；
Who voyaged with your smithy fires
From waste to waste across the land；
Why did you leave for garth and town
Your life by heath and river's brink；
Why lay your gipsy freedom down
And doom your child to Pen and Ink？
You wearied of the wild…wood meal
That crowned； or failed to crown； the day；
Too honest or too tame to steal
You broke into the beaten way；
Plied loom or awl like other men；
And learned to love the guineas' chink …
Oh； recreant sires； who doomed me then
To earn so few … with Pen and Ink！
Where it hath fallen the tree must lie。
'Tis over late for ME to roam；
Yet the caged bird who hears the cry
Of his wild fellows fleeting home；
May feel no sharper pang than mine；
Who seem to hear； whene'er I think；
Spate in the stream； and wind in pine；
Call me to quit dull Pen and Ink。
For then the spirit wandering；
That slept within the blood； awakes；
For then the summer and the spring
I fain would meet by streams and lakes；
But ah； my Birthright long is sold；
But custom chains me； link on link；
And I must get me； as of old；
Back to my tools； to Pen and Ink。
A DREAM。
Why will you haunt my sleep？
You know it may not be；
The grave is wide and deep；
That sunders you and me；
In bitter dreams we reap
The sorrow we have sown；
And I would I w