Isabella Valancy Crawford

“ The thrice told tale of Katie's sunny eyes
And Katie's yellow hair, and household ways:
And heard so often, "There shall stand our home—
"On yonder slope, with vines about the door!"
That the good wives were almost made to see
The snowy walls, deep porches, and the gleam
Of Katie's garments flitting through the rooms;
And the black slope all bristling with burn'd stumps
Was known amongst them all as "Max's House."
* * * * *
O, Love builds on the azure sea,
And Love builds on the golden sand;
And Love builds on the rose-wing'd cloud,
And sometimes Love builds on the land. ”

“ Katie's gay garden foam'd about the walls,
'Leagur'd the prim-cut modern sills, and rush'd
Up the stone walls—and broke on the peak'd roof.
And Katie's lawn was like a Poet's sward,
Velvet and sheer and di'monded with dew;
For such as win their wealth most aptly take
Smooth, urban ways and blend them with their own;
And Katie's dainty raiment was as fine
As the smooth, silken petals of the rose;
And her light feet, her nimble mind and voice,
In city schools had learn'd the city's ways,
And grafts upon the healthy, lonely vine
They shone, eternal blossoms 'mid the fruit. ”

“ As our men march over them home again; the walls of the city ring
With the thunder of throats and the tramp and tread of feet that rush and run?—
I think in my heart that the very trees must shout for the bold work done! ”

“ The ball of Alfred's merits to and fro—
Saying, between the silent arguments:
"But would the mother like it, could she know?
"I would there was a way to ring a lad
"Like silver coin, and so find out the true;
"But Kate shall say him 'Nay' or say him 'Yea'
"At her own will." And Katie said him "Nay,"
In all the maiden, speechless, gentle ways
A woman has. But Alfred only laugh'd
To his own soul, and said in his wall'd mind:
"O, Kate, were I a lover, I might feel
"Despair flap o'er my hopes with raven wings;
"Because thy love is giv'n to other love. ”

“ Look'd with long glances all along the earth.
"Mudjekeewis, West-Wind, in amongst the forest,
"I see a maid, gold-hued as maize full ripe; her eyes
"Laugh under the dusk boughs like watercourses;
"Her moccasins are wrought with threads of light: her hands
"Are full of blue eggs of the robin, and of buds
"Of lilies, and green spears of rice: O Mudjekeewis,
"Who is the maid, gold-hued as maize full-ripen'd?"
"O sun, O Gheezis, that is Spring, is Segwun—woo her!"
"I cannot, for she hides behind the behmagut—
"The thick leav'd grape-vine, and there laughs upon me." ”

“ Their native strands—so stem, so dark, so dear!
0, then, to see the troubl'd, groaning waves,
205
Throb down to peace in kindly, valley beds,
Their turbid bosoms clearing in the calm
Of sun-ey'd Plenty—till the stars and moon,
The blessed sun himself, has leave to shine
And laugh in their dark hearts! ”

“ Get thee hence,
"Pity, I'll strangle thee with naked hands;
"For thou dost bear upon thy downy breast
"Remorse, shap'd like a serpent, and her fangs
"Might dart at me and pierce my marrow thro'.
"Hence, beggar, hence—and keep with fools, I say!
"He bleeds and groans! Well, Max, thy God or mine
"Blind Chance, here play'd the butcher—'twas not I.
"Down, hands! ye shall not lift his fall'n head;
"What cords tug at ye? What? Ye'd pluck him up
"And staunch his wounds? There rises in my breast
"A strange, strong giant, throwing wide his arms
"And bursting all the granite of my heart! ”

“ Leap'd from the bank, low shelving o'er the knot
Of frantic waters at the long slide's foot.
And as the sever'd waters crash'd and smote
Together once again,—within the wave
Stunn'd chamber of his ear there peal'd a cry:
"O Kate! stay, madman; traitor, stay! O Kate!"
* * * * *
Max, gaunt as prairie wolves in famine time,
With long drawn sickness, reel'd upon the bank—
Katie, new-rescu'd, waking in his arms.
On the white riot of the waters gleam'd,
The face of Alfred, calm, with close-seal'd eyes,
And blood red on his temple where it smote
The mossy timbers of the groaning slide. ”

“ Of the Sun's red hammer rose blue mist like smoke.
It clung to the black pines, and clung to the bay—
The galleys of Gisli grew ghosts of the day.
It followed the sharp wings of swans, as they rose—
It fell to the wide jaws of swift riven floes.
It tam'd the wild shriek of the eagle—grew dull
The cries, in its foldings, of osprey and gull.
"Arouse thee, bold wind," shouted Gisli "and drive
"Floe and Berg out to sea as bees from a hive.
"Chase this woman-lipped haze at top of thy speed,
"It cloys to the soul as the tongue cloys with mead! ”

“ The night's device upon his ripe-red shield.
And suddenly down towards the moon there ran—
From some high space deep-veil'd in solemn blue,
A little star, a point of trembling gold,
Gone swift as seen. "My wishing-star," quoth I,
"Shall tell my wish? Did'st note that little star?
"Its brightness died not, it but disappeared,
"To whirl undim'd thro' space. I wish'd our love
"Might blot the 'All is vanity' from this brief life,
"Burning brightly as that star and winging on
"Thro' unseen space of veil'd Eternity,
"Brightened by Immortality—not lost." ”

“ So night by night I watch for him—by day I sing and work,
And try to never mind the latch—he's coming in the dark;
Yet as the days and weeks and months go slipping slowly thro',
I wonder if the wise old wife has spaed my fortune true!
Ah, not a word about his ship? Well, well, I'll lay thee by.
I see a heron from the marsh go sailing in the sky,
The purple moor is like a dream, a star is twinkling clear—
Perhaps the meeting that she spaed is drawing very near!
TWO SONGS OF SPAIN.
Fountain, cans't thou sing the song
My Juan sang to me
The moonlit orange groves among? ”

“ Max wrought alone, but for a half-breed lad,
With tough, lithe sinews and deep Indian eyes,
Lit with a Gallic sparkle. Max, the lover, found
The labourer's arms grow mightier day by day—
More iron-welded as he slew the trees;
And with the constant yearning of his heart
Towards little Kate, part of a world away,
His young soul grew and shew'd a virile front,
Full-muscl'd and large statur'd, like his flesh.
Soon the great heaps of brush were builded high,
And like a victor, Max made pause to clear
His battle-field, high strewn with tangl'd dead. ”

“ In broad winds on the awful Way;
Sun smote at Sun across the grey;
As reindeer smite the high-pil'd snow
To find the green moss far below—
They struck the mists thro' which did glow
Bright vales—and on a sea afar,
Lay at a sunlit harbour bar,
A galley gold-sail'd like a star!
Spake the pale ghost as onward sped
Heart-press'd to heart the valiant dead;
Soft the green paths beneath their tread.
"I lov'd, this is my tale, and died—
The fierce chief hunger'd for my bride—
The spear of Gisli pierc'd my side! ”

“ In twain by sharp prow of the west wind,
To north and to south fled the thick mist.
As in burnish'd walls of Valhalla,
In cleft of the mist stood the chieftain,
And up to the blue shield of Heaven,
Flung the load shaft of his laughter.
Smote the mist, with shrill spear the swift wind.
Grey shapes fled like ghosts on the Hell way;
Bay'd after their long locks hoarse Gylfag,
Stared at them, triumphant, the eagles.
To mate and to eaglets, the eagle
Shriek'd, "Gone is my foe of the deep mist,
"Rent by the vast hands of the kind Gods,
"Who knows the knife-pangs of our hunger!" ”

“ A name of weight; one little daughter heir.
Who must not wed the owner of an axe,
Who owns naught else but some dim, dusky woods
In a far land; two arms indifferent strong—"
"And Katie's heart," said Katie, with a smile;
For yet she stood on that smooth, violet plain,
Where nothing shades the sun; nor quite believed
Those blue peaks closing in were aught but mist
Which the gay sun could scatter with a glance.
For Max, he late had touch'd their stones, but yet
He saw them seam'd with gold and precious ores,
Rich with hill flow'rs and musical with rills. ”

“ Gheezis, with long, golden fingers tore the grape-vine,
But Segwun laughed upon him from behind
A maple, shaking little leaves of gold fresh-budded.
"Gheezis, where are thy feet, O sun, O chief?"
"Follow," sigh'd Mudjekeewis, "Gheezis must wed
"With Spring, with Segwun, or all nature die."
The red chief Gheezis swift ran down the hills,
And as he ran the pools and watercourses
Snatch'd at his yellow hair; the thickets caught
Its tendrils on their brambles; and the buds
That Segwun dropp'd, opened as they touched. ”

“ The bright axe falter'd in the air, and ripp'd
Down the rough bark, and bit the drifted snow,
For Max's arm fell, wither'd in its strength,
'Long by his side. "Your Kate," he said; "your Kate!"
"Yes, mine, while holds her mind that way, my Kate;
"I sav'd her life, and had her love for thanks;
"Her father is Malcolm Graem—Max, my friend,
"You pale! what sickness seizes on your soul?"
Max laugh'd, and swung his bright axe high again:
"Stand back a pace—a too far reaching blow
"Might level your false head with yon prone trunk—
"Stand back and listen while I say, "You lie! ”

“ So closely, bough with bough, and leaf with leaf,
So serf'd by its own wealth, that while from high
The moons of summer kiss'd its green-gloss'd locks;
And round its knees the merry West Wind danc'd;
And round its ring, compacted emerald;
The south wind crept on moccasins of flame;
And the fed fingers of th' impatient sun
Pluck'd at its outmost fringes—its dim veins
Beat with no life—its deep and dusky heart,
In a deep trance of shadow, felt no throb
To such soft wooing answer: thro' its dream
Brown rivers of deep waters sunless stole ”

“ Great is the mystery!"
The strong, brown eagle plung'd from his peak,
From the hollow iron of his beak;
The wood pigeon fell; its breast of blue
Cold with sharp death all thro' and thro',
To our ghosts he cried.
"With talons of steel,
I hold the storm;
Where the high peaks reel,
My young lie warm.
In the wind-rock'd spaces of air I bide;
My wings too wide—
Too angry-strong for the emerald gyves,
Of woodland cell where the meek dove thrives. ”

“ And rose a little way,
As panthers stretch to try their velvet limbs,
And then retreat to purr and bide their time.
At morn the sharp breath of the night arose
From the wide prairies, in deep struggling seas,
In rolling breakers, bursting to the sky;
In tumbling surfs, all yellow'd faintly thro'
With the low sun—in mad, conflicting crests,
Voic'd with low thunder from the hairy throats
Of the mist-buried herds ”

“ Tho' every note beseech thee
To bend thy white wings downward thro' the smiling of the morning,
And by the black wires of my prison lightly stray?
"O dear, small cloud, when all blue morn is ringing
With sweet notes piped from other throats than mine;
If those glad singers please
The tall and nodding trees—
If to them dance the pennants of the swaying columbine,
If to their songs are set
The dance of daffodil and trembling violet—
Will they pursue thee
With tireless wings as free and bold as thine?
Will they woo thee
With love throbs in the music of their singing? ”

“ The iron of her hands; the biting brine
Of her black tears; the Soul but lightly built
of indeterminate spirit, like a mist
Would lapse to Chaos in soft, gilded dreams,
As mists fade in the gazing of the sun.
Sorrow, dark mother of the soul, arise!
Be crown'd with spheres where thy bless'd children dwell,
Who, but for thee, were not. No lesser seat
Be thine, thou Helper of the Universe,
Than planet on planet pil'd!—thou instrument,
Close-clasp'd within the great Creative Hand! ”

“ Joy's City hath her streets of gem-wrought flow'rs;
She hath her palaces high reared and bold,
And tender shades of perfumed lily bowers;
But ever day by day, and ever night by night,
An Angel measures still our City of Delight.
He hath a rule of gold, and never stays,
But ceaseless round the burnish'd ramparts glides;
He measures minutes of her joyous days,
Her walls, her trees, the music of her tides;
The roundness of her buds—Joy's own fair city lies,
Known to its heart-core by his stern and thoughtful eyes. ”

“ Of men who know not, I, the stern son shall be
Of Darkness—Thou of Light!"
THE SHELL.
O little, whisp'ring, murm'ring shell, say cans't thou tell to me
Good news of any stately ship that sails upon the sea?
I press my ear, O little shell, against thy rosy lips;
Cans't tell me tales of those who go down to the sea in ships?
What, not a word? Ah hearken, shell, I've shut the cottage door;
There's scarce a sound to drown thy voice, so silent is the moor,
A bell may tinkle far away upon its purple rise;
A bee may buz among the heath—a lavrock cleave the skies. ”

“ And moulder of red buds—
Shall, at the horizon,
Its ring of pale azure,
Its scurry of white clouds,
Meet in the sunlight.
"THE EARTH WAXETH OLD."
When yellow-lock'd and crystal ey'd
I dream'd green woods among;
Where tall trees wav'd from side to side,
And in their green breasts deep and wide,
I saw the building blue jay hide,
O, then the earth was young!
The winds were fresh and brave and bold,
The red sun round and strong;
No prophet voice chill, loud and cold,
Across my woodland dreamings roll'd,
"The green earth waxeth sere and old,
That once was fair and young!" ”