Picture Songs

A pale green sky is gleaming;
  The steely stars are few;
The moorland pond is steaming
  A mist of gray and blue.

Along the pathway lonely
  My horse is walking slow;
Three living creatures only,
  He, I, and a home-bound crow!

The moon is hardly shaping
  Her circle in the fog;
A dumb stream is escaping
  Its prison in the bog.

But in my heart are ringing
  Tones of a lofty song;
A voice that I know, is singing,
  And my heart all night must long.

Over a shining land—
  Once such a land I knew—
Over its sea, by a soft wind fanned,
  The sky is all white and blue.

The waves are kissing the shores,
  Murmuring love and for ever;
A boat gleams green, and its timeful oars
  Flash out of the level river.

Oh to be there with thee
  And the sun, on wet sands, my love!
With the shining river, the sparkling sea,
  And the radiant sky above!

The autumn winds are sighing
  Over land and sea;
The autumn woods are dying
  Over hill and lea;
And my heart is sighing, dying,
  Maiden, for thee.

The autumn clouds are flying
  Homeless over me;
The nestless birds are crying
  In the naked tree;
And my heart is flying, crying,
  Maiden, to thee.

The autumn sea is crawling
  Up the chilly shore;
The thin-voiced firs are calling
  Ghostily evermore:
Maiden, maiden! I am falling
  Dead at thy door.

The waters are rising and flowing
  Over the weedy stone—
Over it, over it going:
  It is never gone.

Waves upon waves of weeping
  Went over the ancient pain;
Glad waves go over it leaping—
  Still it rises again!

I dreamed of a song—I heard it sung;
In the ear of my soul its strange notes rung.
What were its words I could not tell,
Only the voice I heard right well,
For its tones unearthly my spirit bound
In a calm delirium of mystic sound—
Held me floating, alone and high,
Placeless and silent, drinking my fill
Of dews that from cloudless skies distil
On desert places that thirst and sigh.
'Twas a woman's voice, deep calling to deep,
Rousing old echoes that all day sleep
In cavern and solitude, each apart,
Here and there in the waiting heart;—
A voice with a wild melodious cry
Reaching and longing afar and high.
Sorrowful triumph, and hopeful strife,
Gainful death, and new-born life,
Thrilled in each note of the prophet-song.
In my heart it said: O Lord, how long
Shall we groan and travail and faint and pray,
Ere thy lovely kingdom bring the day!

Heaven and the sea attend the dying day,
  And in their sadness overflow and blend—
Faint gold, and windy blue, and green and gray:
  Far out amid them my pale soul I send.

For, as they mingle, so mix life and death;
  An hour draws near when my day too will die;
Already I forecast unheaving breath,
  Eviction on the moorland of yon sky.

Coldly and sadly lone, unhoused, alone,
  Twixt wind-broke wave and heaven's uncaring space!
At board and hearth from this time forth unknown!
  Refuge no more in wife or daughter's face!

Cold, cold and sad, lone as that desert sea!
  Sad, lonely, as that hopeless, patient sky!
Forward I cannot go, nor backward flee!
  I am not dead; I live, and cannot die!

Where are ye, loved ones, hither come before?
  Did you fare thus when first ye came this way?
Somewhere there must be yet another door!—
  A door in somewhere from this dreary gray!

Come walking over watery hill and glen,
  Or stoop your faces through yon cloud perplext;
Come, any one of dearest, sacred ten,
  And bring me patient hoping for the next.

Maker of heaven and earth, father of me,
  My words are but a weak, fantastic moan!
Were I a land-leaf drifting on the sea,
  Thou still wert with me; I were not alone!

I am in thee, O father, lord of sky,
  And lord of waves, and lord of human souls!
In thee all precious ones to me more nigh
  Than if they rushing came in radiant shoals!

I shall not be alone although I die,
  And loved ones should delay their coming long;
Though I saw round me nought but sea and sky,
  Bare sea and sky would wake a holy song.

They are thy garments; thou art near within,
  Father of fathers, friend-creating friend!
Thou art for ever, therefore I begin;
  Thou lov'st, therefore my love shall never end!

Let loose thy giving, father, on thy child;
  I pray thee, father, give me everything;
Give me the joy that makes the children wild;
  Give throat and heart an old new song to sing.

Ye are my joy, great father, perfect Christ,
  And humble men of heart, oh, everywhere!
With all the true I keep a hoping tryst;
  Eternal love is my eternal prayer.

When God's own child came down to earth,
  High heaven was very glad;
The angels sang for holy mirth;
  Not God himself was sad!

Shall we, when ours goes homeward, fret?
  Come, Hope, and wait on Sorrow!
The little one will not forget;
  It's only till to-morrow!

In the desert by the bush,
Moses to his heart said Hush.

David on his bed did pray;
God all night went not away.

From his heap of ashes foul
Job to God did lift his soul,

God came down to see him there,
And to answer all his prayer.

On a dark hill, in the wind,
Jesus did his father find,

But while he on earth did fare,
Every spot was place of prayer;

And where man is any day,
God can not be far away.

But the place he loveth best,
Place where he himself can rest,

Where alone he prayer doth seek,
Is the spirit of the meek.

To the humble God doth come;
In his heart he makes his home.

Little one, you must not fret
  That I take your clothes away;
Better sleep you so will get,
  And at morning wake more gay—
    Saith the children's mother.

You I must unclothe again,
  For you need a better dress;
Too much worn are body and brain;
  You need everlastingness—
    Saith the heavenly father.

I went down death's lonely stair;
  Laid my garments in the tomb;
Dressed again one morning fair;
  Hastened up, and hied me home—
    Saith the elder brother.

Then I will not be afraid
  Any ill can come to me;
When 'tis time to go to bed,
  I will rise and go with thee—
    Saith the little brother.

My TO-MORROW is but a flitting
  Fancy of the brain;
God's TO-MORROW an angel sitting,
  Ready for joy or pain.

My TO-MORROW has no soul,
  Dead as yesterdays;
God's—a brimming silver bowl
  Of life that gleams and plays.

My TO-MORROW, I mock you away!
  Shadowless nothing, thou!
God's TO-MORROW, come, dear day,
  For God is in thee now.

Waking in the night to pray,
  Sleeping when the answer comes,
Foolish are we even at play—
  Tearfully we beat our drums!
Cast the good dry bread away,
  Weep, and gather up the crumbs!

"Evermore," while shines the day,
  "Lord," we cry, "thy will be done!"
Soon as evening groweth gray,
  Thy fair will we fain would shun!
"Take, oh, take thy hand away!
  See the horrid dark begun!"

"Thou hast conquered Death," we say,
  "Christ, whom Hades could not keep!"
Then, "Ah, see the pallid clay!
  Death it is," we cry, "not sleep!
Grave, take all. Shut out the Day.
  Sit we on the ground and weep!"

Gathering potsherds all the day,
  Truant children, Lord, we roam;
Fret, and longer want to play,
  When at cool thy voice doth come!—
Elder Brother, lead the way;
  Make us good as we go home.

Love is the part, and love is the whole;
  Love is the robe, and love is the pall;
Ruler of heart and brain and soul,
  Love is the lord and the slave of all!
I thank thee, Love, that thou lov'st me;
I thank thee more that I love thee.

Love is the rain, and love is the air,
  Love is the earth that holdeth fast;
Love is the root that is buried there,
  Love is the open flower at last!
I thank thee, Love all round about,
That the eyes of my love are looking out.

Love is the sun, and love is the sea;
  Love is the tide that comes and goes;
Flowing and flowing it comes to me;
  Ebbing and ebbing to thee it flows!
Oh my sun, and my wind, and tide!
My sea, and my shore, and all beside!

Light, oh light that art by showing;
  Wind, oh wind that liv'st by motion;
Thought, oh thought that art by knowing;
  Will, that art born in self-devotion!
Love is you, though not all of you know it;
Ye are not love, yet ye always show it!

Faithful creator, heart-longed-for father,
  Home of our heart-infolded brother,
Home to thee all thy glories gather—
  All are thy love, and there is no other!
O Love-at-rest, we loves that roam—
Home unto thee, we are coming home!

"Earth, if aught should check thy race,
Rushing through unfended space,
Headlong, stayless, thou wilt fall
Into yonder glowing ball!"

"Beggar of the universe,
Faithless as an empty purse!
Sent abroad to cool and tame,
Think'st I fear my native flame?"

"If thou never on thy track
Turn thee round and hie thee back,
Thou wilt wander evermore,
Outcast, cold—a comet hoar!"

"While I sweep my ring along
In an air of joyous song,
Thou art drifting, heart awry,
From the sun of liberty!"

I waited for the Master
  In the darkness dumb;
Light came fast and faster—
  My light did not come!

I waited all the daylight,
  All through noon's hot flame:
In the evening's gray light,
  Lo, the Master came!

Had I a great ship coming home,
  With big plunge o'er the sea,
What bright things, hid from star and foam,
  Lay in her heart for thee!

The stormy billows heave and dip,
  The wild winds veer and play;
But, regnant all, God's stately ship
  Is steering home this way!

Why dost thou want to sing
  When thou hast no song, my heart?
If there be in thee a hidden spring,
  Wherefore will no word start?

On its way thou hearest no song,
  Yet flutters thy unborn joy!
The years of thy life are growing long—
  Art still the heart of a boy?—

Father, I am thy child!
  My heart is in thy hand!
Let it hear some echo, with gladness wild,
  Of a song in thy high land.

It will answer—but how, my God,
  Thou knowest; I cannot say:
It will spring, I know, thy lark, from thy sod—
  Thy lark to meet thy day!

Were thou and I the white pinions
  On some eager, heaven-born dove,
Swift would we mount to the old dominions,
  To our rest of old, my love!

Were thou and I trembling strands
  In music's enchanted line,
We would wait and wait for magic hands
  To untwist the magic twine.

Were we two sky-tints, thou and I,
  Thou the golden, I the red;
We would quiver and glow and darken and die,
  And love until we were dead!

Nearer than wings of one dove,
  Than tones or colours in chord,
We are one—and safe, and for ever, my love,
  Two thoughts in the heart of one Lord.

"Come, children, put away your toys;
  Roll up that kite's long line;
The day is done for girls and boys—
  Look, it is almost nine!
Come, weary foot, and sleepy head,
Get up, and come along to bed."

The children, loath, must yet obey;
  Up the long stair they creep;
Lie down, and something sing or say
  Until they fall asleep,
To steal through caverns of the night
Into the morning's golden light.

We, elder ones, sit up more late,
  And tasks unfinished ply,
But, gently busy, watch and wait—
  Dear sister, you and I,
To hear the Father, with soft tread,
Coming to carry us to bed.

Thou who mad'st the mighty clock
  Of the great world go;
Mad'st its pendulum swing and rock,
  Ceaseless to and fro;
Thou whose will doth push and draw
  Every orb in heaven,
Help me move by higher law
  In my spirit graven.

Like a planet let me swing—
  With intention strong;
In my orbit rushing sing
  Jubilant along;
Help me answer in my course
  To my seasons due;
Lord of every stayless force,
  Make my Willing true.

Lord Jesus,
Oh, ease us
Of Self that oppresses,
Annoys and distresses
Body and brain
With dull pain!
Thou never,
Since ever,
Save one moment only,
Wast left, or wast lonely:
We are alone,
And make moan.

Far parted,
Dull-hearted,
We wander, sleep-walking,
Mere shadows, dim-stalking:
Orphans we roam,
Far from home.

Oh new man,
Sole human,
God's son, and our brother,
Give each to the other—
No one left out
In cold doubt!

High Father,
Oh gather
Thy sons and thy daughters,
Through fires and through waters,
Home to the nest
Of thy breast!

There under
The wonder
Of great wings of healing,
Of love and revealing,
Teach us anew
To sing true.