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:: V E R S E S :: Sacred and Profane. By Seumas O'Sullivan. Being Number Five of the Tower Press Booklets—Second Series

MAUNSEL & CO., Ltd., 96 Middle Abbey Street, Dublin ::

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VERSES : Sacred and Profane.

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/

:: V E R S E S ::

Sacred and Profane. By Seumas O'Sullivan. Being Number Five of the Tower Press Booklets— Second Series

MAUNSEL & CO., Ltd., 96 Middle Abbey Street, Dublin :: :: 1908

boll

To

The Author of

"Songs of a Devotee."

CONTENTS.

EVE AND LILITH 9

SAINT ANTHONY lO

THE MONK 12

CALVARY -13

WINTER 14

IN SAECULA SitCULORUM . , . . 15

A PIPER . . • . . . .16

A FIDDLER 1 7

IN AN IRISH THEATRE . . . . 18

"jE NE VEUX DE PERSONNE AUPRES DE

MA TRISTESSE " 1 9

TO EITHNE 20

DAY AND NIGHT 2 1

ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD . , ,22

A VERSE-EPISTLE 23

TO A POET 25

COMMUNION 26

PESSIMISTS 27

POPLARS 28

VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE . . . . 3I

A POET 32

GLASNEVIN, OCTOBER 9TH, I9O4 . . 33

TO A GREEK POET 34

Though^ late in a too travelled world,

From no far land our sails are furled

For harbour, yet perchance, we bring

Tokens of further wandering,

For, it may be, our sadder hearts

Have dealt in more enchanted marts

Than those old singers, and our eyes

Have gathered costlier merchandise.

Witness ij in our song there be.

For that fierce olden ecstasy.

For that old singing wild and brave.

Magic of wood and wind and wa'Ve,

For old high thoughts that clashed like swords,

A wisdom winnowed from light words.

EVE AND LILITH

With Adam I have mourned for Lilith

flown, Yea, walked disconsolate in Paradise Through the green ways of Eden unconsoled, Though by my side young Eve went wondering And whispering with her young grace that

made The loveliness of Eden lovelier. Till, finding unavailing all her ways And each caress, taught by her woman's love. That is more subtle than the mind of God, She found, devised, and perfected a plan Which, brought to full fruition, closed on me For evermore, that Eden she abhorred. Where my sad heart could have but thought

of one Who walked there in the morning of the

world.

SAINT ANTHONY

All day Saint Anthony, twixt tear and moan Had battled with weak heart, and now almost His strength had failed him when the phantom

host Suddenly vanished and he was alone. Half fearing still, he raised from the cold stone His head sweat-bathed and weary, and his

heart Failed him almost, for by his side one stood Lovelier than all the vanished multitude. No longer he resisted, but stretched up Weak hands desirous, wildly thrown apart, Past the white limbs, past the round breasts,

to where The long and delicate tendrils of light hair Caressed, wind-rippled, the brow's ivory. Then, shrieking, on his face. Saint Anthony Fell, for he knew the splendour of that face. The eyes, that, full of pity, full of grace. Looked on him from the white brow's Sanctity. It was the Virgin Mother of his Lord. Prostrate, half senseless, in his swoon he heard

I o

The voice which sang his infant Lord to rest Sound clear through the wild tumult of his

breast, *'I, too, was beautiful, O Anthony".

I I

THE MONK

I go with silent feet and slow As all my black-robed brothers go ; I dig a while and read and pray, So portion out my pious day Until the evening time, and then Work at my book with cunning pen. If she would turn to me a while, If she would turn to me and smile, My book would be no more to me Than some forgotten phantasy. And God no more unto my mind Than a dead leaf upon the wind.

12

CALVARY

Sweetheart, be brave and face with me The thing that we have done ;

Lo, in the quiet garden now He prayeth all alone —

The Lord we have betrayed ; yet wc

May go with him to Calvary.

Even now the brutal soldiery, With lust of slaughter mad,

Wait by the quiet garden, where He went secure and glad.

Sweetheart, there is sad comfort, sec,

Three crosses crown our Calvary.

13

WINTER

Why will you plague me with your loveliness ?

Can you not see How vain is every grace and each caress ?

Prithee let be.

Your beauty is no less than when we kept

The summer that we knew ; But it is winter, sweet, you should have slept

The winter through.

For what avail your kisses and your sighs, The lovely splendour of your tear-bright eyes?

Less than a little wine Poured out upon the grave Of some old glad and brave

Dead singer of the vine.

14

IN SAECULA S^CULORUM

Down to the grass the chestnufs sway A shower of undissolved snow With flowery laughter — can they know, With every little wind of May Their loveliness must drift away ?

O falling blossoms laughing still, What secrets have your branches stored Deep in your sun-steeped blossoms' hoard, That so your wealth of bloom is poured Forth to the Sun and the winds' will ?

Lo ! all their branches flash to me Their scorn of such a questioning. With light, a silvery sound, they sing: Our will, is with the will of spring And all the years desire ; and we Die thus into eternity.

15

A PIPER

A PIPER in the streets to-day,

Set up, and tuned, and started to play,

And away, away, away on the tide

Of his music we started ; on every side

Doors and windows were opened wide.

And men left down their work and came,

And women with petticoats coloured like

flame. And little bare feet that were blue with cold, Went dancing back to the age of gold, And all the world went gay, went gay. For half an hour in the street to-day. ^

i6

A FIDDLER

All day long about the town,

He had wandered up and down

From street to street, from drink to drink ;

At evening he began to think,

" Better, far better, to be dead

Where no thought could find out my head ;

Lying in some green place apart

No sorrow could find out my heart ;

Laid in the quiet there alone

I should have all my dreams my own ;

For, though they know not, when I play

(These fools), I give my dreams away."

'7

IN AN IRISH THEATRE

We are not kingly born :

Why should we mourn

The Sons of Usna left companionless,

Deirdre's sad loveliness ?

Surely it fits us better to be gay

In this our little day,

And singing dance, and flash our midget wings

Over the surfaces of things.

Until the sorrow-heavy years return

Bearing full many a sorrow, many an urn

Wherein earth's kingliest ones so long havg

slept Austere, unwept. For it may be when we have danced our

round And known all joys that are above the ground, That we too will be taught in some sad

school How to mourn for the kingly and beautiful.

i8

«JE NE VEUX DE PERSONNE AUPRES DE MA TRISTESSE"

— Henri de Regnibk.

Nay, sweet, my grief and I, we may not

brook Even your light footfall, even your shy look. Even your light hand that touches carelessly The faded ribbon in the closed-up book.

Let be ; my door is closed for this one day. Nor may morn*s freshness through my window

stray ; My heart is a guest-chamber, and awaits Sorrow, a sweet shy guest from far away.

Shyly it comes from its far distant home, O keep a silence lest its voice be dumb ; For every man that lives and laughs and loves Must hear that whisper when his hour has come.

'9

TO EITHNE

All the swift loveliness your girlhood knew

Is hid away ; No longer, unregarded as they flew,

Your tresses play ; Yet there is something in your mien and mood

More gravely gay.

No more a child's distress of tears unshed

Troubles your mind ; No longer, with sweet tears for a flower dead

Your eyes grow blind ; But, sweetheart, there is something in your eyes

More wisely kind.

20

DAY AND NIGHT

While still the dusk was magical, And night an unknown way,

I watched the evening shadows fall, Impatient of the day.

And now when night's a travelled land,

Dusk a familiar face, I seek from day's departing hand

A sacramental grace.

21

ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD

(From the Japanese.)

Nay, but he is so young, and feet so small Must stumble on the way, and he will falL I will go down to him who rules the night And say " Lo this I give thee, so thou take The little lad upon thy back, and make His path over the sunless meadow light."

22

A VERSE-EPISTLE

It seems but yesterday since you and I On these same rocks, under the self-same sky, Lay all day, naked, while the mirrored sun Beat on us from the blue, till we grew one With all that cloudless world of sea and land: Knowing a life we could but understand Each through the other's silence: and too wise To still with any speech such silences. And now there is no blue sky anywhere In all the wet gray world, but in the air The salt wind stings with sense of storm and

death. And silence holds the heart and stills the

breath. Yet in the very silence once again I look to you out of a world of men. By sorrow grown forgetful of the Spring That hides beyond the gray of everything. And in the silence I once more have won The life we lived together in the sun. And thus it is that I have come to know There is no way henceforth that we must go —

23

0 friend, I think even when we are dead There is no path whatever we can tread, But each will find the other by his side Within the call of silence, though the tide Of Stygian waters dashed on us, and made The very ghosts go howling and afraid.

1 know I will remember even as now

The courage of the heart I knew, the brow Bright still with some unrisen sun of hope. I will remember these, and I will grope Even in the darkness, I will stretch my hand And find you there, and we will understand, Where silence, such as holds the heaven, keeps- The solitude of those unsounded deeps.

24

TO A POET

I TOO, with Ireland, loved you long ago Because you sang, as none but you could sing. The cause we hold the dearest ; now I know How vain your love was, and how mean a thing.

And not to you whose heart went anywhere Her sorrow's holy heritage belongs :

You could have made of any other air

The little careful mouthfuls of your songs.

25

COMMUNION

For solace of all lonely things That have no heed of day or night, Beside the poplars, grey and still. Beside the poplars still and high, Where bats fly whistling in dim light. And draw the night on with their wings. And dark, unmoving shadows lie On paths that know strange visitings, I go with will like the wind's will For solace of earth-exiled things.

26

PESSIMISTS

The world-fruit withers on the tree Since there is none to pluck, for we Who walk beneath the burdened boughs Go sadly, with earth-bending brows Saying " In some age of old These branches bowed with living gold." Saying " Earth's latest fruit is shed And all her sweetness harvested." And only when some golden gift Falls at our very feet, we lift Our heads awhile and, sighing, say " How strangely in earth's memory stay These quaint half-hidden things that hold Something of the age of gold."

27

POPLARS

Surely no lovelier forms their shadowy kingdom owns Than these tall poplars bending, swaying, each upon Its own light shadow, even as those unbodied ones Swaying in some sad dance by shady Acheron,

28

SONNETS

VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE

Fair maids ye are, but queens by beauty's

right, And with your years your sovereignty decays; Then think upon the errors of your ways, O think, ye maids, while yet your eyes are

bright And shine elate with that high conquering

light. That ye will surely come on darker days, As dew caught lingering by the morning rays, As fleetest day thats dipt by surly night. And you, poor fool, that waste your breath

in sighs, Mouse-hearted lover, lift your head and laugh. Lift up your head and list to me, and quaff This toast I give " To any lady's eyes." For one bee wanting who will burn the hive? And beauty is a sea where all may dive.

31

A POET

The music of the bending river reed

Thai hears the whisper of the wind of Spring Was in his song ; you would have thought indeed

That Pan himself had taught him how to sing. But he had wisdom Pan could never teach,

Nor any Faun or Satyr ever knew, A sorrow and a joy beyond the reach

Of any one of all their heartless crew. He sang the joy of boyhood's careless day,

And all the sweet distress of maidenhood. And knowledge proved in every lightest lay

Of things whereon the hearts of poets brood; And strong he was to wrestle with and throw The fear no deathless thing can ever know.

32

GLASNEVIN, OCTOBER qth, 1904

They peer about his grave with curious eyes, And for his sin they pity him, their chief, With miserable mockery of grief ; Beyond their littleness serene he lies. Nor heeds the insult of their sympathies. This man pre-eminent by strong belief In his own heart — a little while, for brief The resting-time is when a hero dies.

Near to God's heart by greatness of thy heart, And nearer by thy sin, O strong of will ! Send out thy spirit like a sword and kill Their littleness ; no longer dwell apart ; Send forth thy spirit like a flame, and burn Through these a pathway for thy soul's return.

33

TO A GREEK POET

O HAPPY hearted singer of a day

So golden that its very memory

Can stir the heart to sing its ecstasy,

A rivulet to the ocean of your lay.

O heart of golden fire, could you not stay

This leaden age that never more will see

White Aphrodite's naked majesty

Gleam suddenly out of the w^hite sea spray.

Or Bacchus laughing through his wine-wet

hair ? For chastity that wont to dwell apart Timid and veiled, seeks now no hidden place, But like a strumpet certain of her art Shows in the daylight unashamed her face, And Love your Lord is crownless everywhere.

PRINTED AT THE TOWER PRESS, 4 SKIPPER's ALLEY, DUBLIN.

34

The Tower Press Booklets.

First Series.

*^* Single numbers of tht First Series can still be

obtained^ price \s. net^ except Nos. I.* and III.,*

xuhich can only be had in complete sets. /is there is a very limited number of complete sets available the price has been raised to "js. 6d. net for the six numbers.

I.* SOIVP IRISH ESSAYS. By A. E.

II. SONGS OF A DEVOTEE. By Thomas Keohler.

III.* REMINISCENCES OF THE IMPRESSIONIST PAINTERS. By George Moore.

IV. POEMS. By Ella Young. V. BARDS AND SAINTS. By John

EcJLINION.

VI. CRITICISM AND COURAGE and Other Essays. By Freijerick Ryan.

'■iiiiil:-;

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PR 6037 T19A17 1908

Stp.rkey, James Verses

PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE CARDS OR SLIPS FROM THIS POCKET

UNIVERSITY OF TORONTO LIBRARY

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