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TO
MY MOTHER
VIRGINIA WHITMORE MARQUIS
CONTENTS
PROEM
DAYLIGHT HUMORS
SHADOWS
HAUNTED
A NIGHTMARE
THE MOTHER
IN THE BAYOU
THE SAILOR'S WIFE SPEAKS
HUNTED
A DREAM CHILD
ACROSS THE NIGHT
SEA CHANGES
THE TAVERN OF DESPAIR
A GOLDEN LAD
THE SAGE AND THE WOMAN
NEWS FROM BABYLON
A RHYME OF THE ROADS
THE LAND OF YESTERDAY
OCTOBER
CHANT OF THE CHANGING HOURS
SELVES
THE WAGES
IN MARS, WHAT AVATAR?
THE GOD-MAKER, MAN
UNREST
THE PILTDOWN SKULL
THE SEEKER
THE AWAKENING
A SONG OF MEN
THE NOBLER LESSON
AT LAST
LYRICS
REALITIES
REALITIES
THE STRUGGLE
THE REBEL
THE CHILD AND THE MILL
"SIC TRANSIT GLORIA MUNDI"
THE COMRADE
ENVOI
PROEM
APRIL SONG
THE BIRTH
THE POOL
NEW YORK
A HYMN
(1914)
THE SINGER
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
And now, her flanks of steel apulse with all the
power of hell,
Forth from the darkness leaps in pride a hateful
miracle,
The flagship of their Admiral--and now God help
and save!--
We challenge Death at Death's own game; we
sink beneath the wave!
. . . . . .
NICHOLAS OF MONTENEGRO
(1912)
DICKENS
"The only book that the party had was a volume of Dickens.
During the six months that they lay in the cave which they
had hacked in the ice, waiting for spring to come, they read
this volume through again and again."--<i>From a newspaper
report of an antarctic expedition.</i>
. . . . . .
A POLITICIAN
THE BAYONET
(1914)
(1914)
SHADOWS
HAUNTED
The dead they are dead, they are out of the way?
And a ghost is the whim of an ailing mind?
Then why did ye whiten with fear to-day
When ye heard a voice in the calling wind?
Why did ye falter and look behind
At the creeping mists when the hour grew late?
Ye would see my face were ye stricken blind!
And here in the shadows I wait, I wait!
A NIGHTMARE
THE MOTHER
IN THE BAYOU
HUNTED
. . . . . .
. . . . . .
A DREAM CHILD
SEA CHANGES
MORNING
II
MOONLIGHT
III
MOONSET
As airily, as eerily,
They wheel about and whirl,
They jeer at me, they fleer at me,
They flout me as they swirl!
As whirling fast or swaying slow,
Reeling, wheeling, to and fro,
Around, around the corpse they go,
They chill me with their chants!
These be neither men nor mists--
Hearken to their chants:
IV
SUNSET
A GOLDEN LAD
(D. V. M.)
<i>The world hath just one tale to tell, and it is very old,
A little tale--a simple tale--a tale that's easy told:
"There was a youth in Babylon who greatly loved a
maid!"
The world hath just one song to sing, but sings it
unafraid,
A little song--a foolish song--the only song it hath:
"There was a youth in Ascalon who loved a girl in
Gath!"</i>
<i>For, oh, the world has just one dream, and it is very
old--
'Tis youth's dream--a silly dream--but it is flushed
with gold!</i>
OCTOBER
SELVES
THE WAGES
NEVERMORE
Shall the shepherds of Arcady follow
Pan's moods as he lolls by the shore
Of the mere, or lies hid in the hollow;
Nevermore
Shall they start at the sound of his reed-fashioned
flute;
Fallen mute
Are the strings of Apollo,
His lyre and his lute;
And the lips of the Memnons are mute
Evermore;
And the gods of the North,--are they dead or
forgetful,
Our Odin and Baldur and Thor?
Are they drunk, or grown weary of worship and
fretful,
Our Odin and Baldur and Thor?
For all of the creeds are false, and all of the creeds
are true;
And low at the shrines where my brothers bow,
there will I bow, too;
UNREST
. . . . . .
THE SEEKER
. . . . . .
THE AWAKENING
A SONG OF MEN
AT LAST
EACH race has died and lived and fought for the
"true" gods of that poor race,
Unconsciously, divinest thought of each race gild-
ing its god's face.
And every race that lives and dies shall make itself
some other gods,
Shall build, with mingled truth and lies, new icons
from the world-old clods.
Through all the tangled creeds and dreams and
shifting shibboleths men hold
The false-and-true, inwoven, gleams: a matted
mass of dross and gold.
Prove, then, thy gods in thine own soul; all others'
gods, for thee, are vain;
Nor swerved be, struggling for the goal, by bribe
of joy nor threat of pain.
LYRICS
DAVID TO BATHSHEBA
THE JESTERS
THE TRIOLET
TO A DANCING DOLL
AT SUNSET
A CHRISTMAS GIFT
SILVIA
<i>"Silvia, Silvia,
Be our Song once more,
Our vale revisit, Silvia,
And be our Song once more:
For joy lies sleeping in the lute;
The merry pipe, the woodland flute,
And all the pleading reeds are mute
That breathed to thee of yore.</i>
<i>"Silvia, Silvia,
Be our Moon again,</i>
"Silvia, Silvia,
Be Springtime, as of old;
Come clad in laughter, Silvia,
Our Springtime, as of old:
The waiting lowlands and the hills
Are tremulous with daffodils
Unblown, until thy footstep thrills
Their promise into gold."</i>
THE EXPLORERS
EARLY AUTUMN
THE RONDEAU
VISITORS
And are gone ere they break into foam on the rocks
And recede;--
Breathings of love from invisible
Flutes,
Blown somewhere out in the tender
Dusk,
That die on the bosom of Silence;--
Formless,
And fleeter than thought,
Vaguer than thought or emotion,
What are these visitors?
Beauty unborn;
Beauty as yet unappareled
In thought;
Beauty that hesitates,
Falters,
Withdraws from the verge of birth,
Flutters,
Retreats from the portals of life;--
O Beauty for ever uncaptured!
O songs that I never shall sing!
THE PARTING
AN OPEN FIRE
REALITIES
REALITIES
THE STRUGGLE
THE REBEL
THE COMRADE
II
III
IV
Had she not courage for the fight?
Hath she not courage for the years to come?
Hath she not courage who descends alone--
(How pitifully alone, except for Love!)
Where man's thought even falters that would
follow,
Into the shadowy abyss
(Through vast and murmurous caverns dark with
crowding dread
And terrible with hovering wings),
To battle there with Death?--to battle
There with Death, and wrest from him,
O Conqueror and Mother,
Life!
ENVOI
A LITTLE WHILE
End of The Project Gutenberg Etext of Dreams & Dust by Don Marquis