Part 16 (1/2)

BEAUTY

I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain: I have seen the lady April bringing the daffodils, Bringing the springing gra.s.s and the soft warm April rain.

I have heard the song of the blossoms and the old chant of the sea, And seen strange lands from under the arched white sails of s.h.i.+ps; But the loveliest things of beauty G.o.d ever has showed to me, Are her voice, and her hair, and eyes, and the dear red curve of her lips.

THE SEEKERS

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode, But the hope of the City of G.o.d at the other end of the road.

Not for us are content, and quiet, and peace of mind, For we go seeking a city that we shall never find.

There is no solace on earth for us--for such as we-- Who search for a hidden city that we shall never see.

Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain, And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.

We seek the City of G.o.d, and the haunt where beauty dwells, And we find the noisy mart and the sound of burial bells.

Never the golden city, where radiant people meet, But the dolorous town where mourners are going about the street.

We travel the dusty road till the light of the day is dim, And sunset shows us spires away on the world's rim.

We travel from dawn to dusk, till the day is past and by, Seeking the Holy City beyond the rim of the sky.

Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blest abode, But the hope of the City of G.o.d at the other end of the road.

PRAYER

When the last sea is sailed, when the last shallow's charted, When the last field is reaped, and the last harvest stored, When the last fire is out and the last guest departed, Grant the last prayer that I shall pray, be good to me, O Lord.

And let me pa.s.s in a night at sea, a night of storm and thunder, In the loud crying of the wind through sail and rope and spar, Send me a ninth great peaceful wave to drown and roll me under To the cold tunny-fish's home where the drowned galleons are.

And in the dim green quiet place far out of sight and hearing, Grant I may hear at whiles the wash and thresh of the sea-foam About the fine keen bows of the stately clippers steering Towards the lone northern star and the fair ports of home.

DAWN

The dawn comes cold: the haystack smokes, The green twigs crackle in the fire, The dew is dripping from the oaks, And sleepy men bear milking-yokes Slowly towards the cattle-byre.

Down in the town a clock strikes six, The grey east heaven burns and glows, The dew s.h.i.+nes on the thatch of ricks, A slow old crone comes gathering sticks, The red c.o.c.k in the ox-yard crows.

Beyond the stack where we have lain The road runs twisted like a snake (The white road to the land of Spain), The road that we must foot again, Though the feet halt and the heart ache.

LAUGH AND BE MERRY

Laugh and be merry, remember, better the world with a song, Better the world with a blow in the teeth of a wrong.