God's World

O WORLD, I cannot hold thee close enough!
   Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
     But never knew I this;
     Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart,--Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me,--let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.

Afternoon on a Hill

I WILL be the gladdest thing
   Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
   And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
   With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
   And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show
   Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
   And then start down!

Sorrow

SORROW like a ceaseless rain
   Beats upon my heart.
People twist and scream in pain,--
Dawn will find them still again;
This has neither wax nor wane,
   Neither stop nor start.
People dress and go to town;
   I sit in my chair.
All my thoughts are slow and brown:
Standing up or sitting down
Little matters, or what gown
   Or what shoes I wear.

Tavern

I'LL keep a little tavern
   Below the high hill's crest,
Wherein all grey-eyed people
   May set them down and rest.
There shall be plates a-plenty,
   And mugs to melt the chill
Of all the grey-eyed people
   Who happen up the hill.
There sound will sleep the traveller,
   And dream his journey's end,
But I will rouse at midnight
   The falling fire to tend.
Aye, 'tis a curious fancy--
   But all the good I know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
   A long time ago.

Ashes of Life

LOVE has gone and left me and the days are all alike;
   Eat I must, and sleep I will,--and would that night were here!
But ah!--to lie awake and hear the slow hours strike!
   Would that it were day again!--with twilight near!
Love has gone and left me and I don't know what to do;
   This or that or what you will is all the same to me;
But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through,--
   There's little use in anything as far as I can see.
Love has gone and left me,--and the neighbors knock and borrow,
   And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,--
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow
   There's this little street and this little house.

The Little Ghost

I KNEW her for a little ghost
   That in my garden walked;
The wall is high--higher than most--
   And the green gate was locked.
And yet I did not think of that
   Till after she was gone--
I knew her by the broad white hat,
   All ruffled, she had on.
By the dear ruffles round her feet,
   By her small hands that hung
In their lace mitts, austere and sweet,
   Her gown's white folds among.
I watched to see if she would stay,
   What she would do--and oh!
She looked as if she liked the way
   I let my garden grow!
She bent above my favourite mint
   With conscious garden grace,
She smiled and smiled--there was no hint
   Of sadness in her face.
She held her gown on either side
   To let her slippers show,
And up the walk she went with pride,
   The way great ladies go.
And where the wall is built in new
   And is of ivy bare
She paused--then opened and passed through
   A gate that once was there.

Back to Jenn's Home Page.