FullReads

Handfast, like boy and girl,
And my eyes they did fill;
But my heart was in a whirl
To have him there still.

‘Twas when we were abed,
And I against his heart,
That I knew the great dread
It would be to part.

Old sayings, that sounded new,
Sweet, every broken word–
“My Nancy, sweet and true,
My pretty wild bird!”

I let him kiss me, but I
Lay quite still in his arm:
If I had started to cry
God only knew the harm!

And if he thought me cool
‘Twould make an easier going;
But if he thought me cool
‘Twas not for want of knowing.

Towards the twilight gray
When my love was sleeping,
I sat upright to pray,
And heard the sparrows cheeping.

It was their fond love-twitter
That broke my prayer down,
Turn’d all my faith bitter,
To set it by their own.

Their love-life to begin,
And mine now–where?
Their nest to win,
Mine soon to be bare!

I lookt forth from my bed
To the cold square of the light–
Unto God I said,
“Show me why men must fight,

“You, Who to each one say,
Love you one another;
You, Who bid women obey
Husbands, and sons their mother;

“You, Who of me require
To love what I cannot see,
Milk and a heart of fire
To nourish what may not be!

“Shall my milk be churn’d into gall,
Or my blood freeze at the fount,
And You make light of it all,
And my love of little account?”

Then as I held my throat,
God answer’d me by a bird,
One long flourishing note,
The bravest I ever heard;

And I turn’d where my love lay fast
In his wholesome sleep;
About him my arms I cast
And found grace to weep.

He would do what was right,
As I knew very well–
Yes, but who made them fight,
And turn’d our heaven to hell?

The more I listen the sighs,
The mourning and the dearth,
The deeper my heart cries
Over this wounded earth.

VI

i

May the good King
That guards like sheep
Kings and shepherds all
Send us quiet sleep!

Shepherds great and small
Has He in hold;
There need no danger
Threaten field or fold.

Lowly in a manger
That King was born
Of maid undefiled
On a winter’s morn.

He lay a little child
On His mother’s knee;
Three kings out of the East
Came Him to see.

On a mother’s breast
Still did He lie:
Said one king to the other,
“Such once was I!”

Then said his brother,
“Even thus, I trow,
Once lay thy simplicity,
But where is that now?“

ii

How many a woman’s eyes are worn,
Weeping a murder’d son!
How many wish none they had borne
To do as theirs have done!
Who dares to see a mask of hate
And snarling on the face
Which she had pray’d to consecrate
To honour for a space?

This high-flusht lad whom she has known
Since as a new-born child
He lay as soft as thistle-down,
Or like an angel smil’d;
Whom she has seen, a sturdy imp
Tumble bare-breecht at play,
Or nurst to health when, quiet and limp,
Short-breath’d and flusht he lay;

Or shockhead boy, aburst with joy,
Or gawky, ill-at-ease,
All hot and coy, a hobbledehoy
With laces round his knees–
But hers, her own, with eyes that trust
Hers for his better part–
Ah, tiger-lust of War that thrust
A hand to snatch that heart!