Part 3 (2/2)

Till my soul sent a woman as the sun: Yea as the sun calleth to the seed, As the spring upon the bough So is she that cometh the song-drawer She that holdeth the wonder words within her eyes The words little elf words that call ever unto me ”Song, a song.”

ENVOI

In vain have I striven with my soul to teach my soul to bow.

What soul boweth while in his heart art thou?

Camaraderie

”_E tuttoque to fosse a la compagnia di molti, quanto alla vista_.”

Sometimes I feel thy cheek against my face Close-pressing, soft as is the South's first breath That all the subtle earth-things summoneth To spring in wood-land and in meadow s.p.a.ce.

Yea sometimes in a bustling man-filled place Me seemeth some-wise thy hair wandereth Across mine eyes, as mist that halloweth The air awhile and giveth all things grace.

Or on still evenings when the rain falls close There comes a tremor in the drops, and fast My pulses run, knowing thy thought hath pa.s.sed That beareth thee as doth the wind a rose.

Masks

These tales of old disguisings, are they not Strange myths of souls that found themselves among Unwonted folk that spake a hostile tongue, Some soul from all the rest who'd not forgot The star-span acres of a former lot Where boundless mid the clouds his course he swung, Or carnate with his elder brothers sung E'er ballad makers lisped of Camelot?

Old singers half-forgetful of their tunes, Old painters colour-blind come back once more, Old poets skilless in the wind-heart runes, Old wizards lacking in their wonder-lore:

All they that with strange sadness in their eyes Ponder in silence o'er earth's queynt devyse?

Tally-O

What ho! the wind is up and eloquent.

Through all the Winter's halls he crieth Spring.

Now will I get me up unto mine own forests And behold their bourgeoning.

Ballad for Gloom

For G.o.d, our G.o.d, is a gallant foe That playeth behind the veil.

I have loved my G.o.d as a child at heart That seeketh deep bosoms for rest, I have loved my G.o.d as maid to man But lo, this thing is best:

To love your G.o.d as a gallant foe that plays behind the veil, To meet your G.o.d as the night winds meet beyond Arcturus' pale.

I have played with G.o.d for a woman, I have staked with my G.o.d for truth, I have lost to my G.o.d as a man, clear eyed, His dice be not of ruth.

For I am made as a naked blade But hear ye this thing in sooth:

Who loseth to G.o.d as man to man Shall win at the turn of the game.

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