Virna Sheard

“ The merriest hours the world has ever seen.
They are so very, very far away,—
Those white untroubled hours of yesterday.
For Death goes to and fro upon the earth;—
It follows in the wake of marching men;
And we who knew the olden peace and mirth,
Will never, never know the same again.
The scented wind across the boughs of May,
Brings but the memory of some yesterday.
SHIPS The great grey ships! We saw them in our dreaming,
The strong grey ships—the ships of our desire,
Watched by the stars, and by the dawn's white gleaming,
And followed by the winds that never tire. ”

“ Death is thy dreaded name!"
"Nay—I am known as 'Love' in that far place,"
He said, "from whence I came."
But still the other cried, with moan and tear,
"I fear the dark—and thee!"
"There is no dark," the angel said, "nor fear,
For those who go with me.
"There is no loneliness, and nevermore
The shadow-haunted night,
When we pass out beyond Life's swinging door
The road," he said, "is bright." ”

“ Then his merry laugh rang through the house, and John Sevenoakes and Master Thornbury, sitting by the hearth below, smiled as they listened, for it is so good a thing to hear, the merry, whole-hearted, innocent laughter of a child.
Even the leathery, grim old face of Ned Saddler relaxed into a pleasant expression at the sound of it, though 'twas against his will to allow himself to show anything of happiness he felt; for he was much like a small, tart winter apple, wholesome and sound at heart, yet sour enough to set one's teeth on edge. ”

“ A little lad, with Egypt's eyes—but hair like golden flame.
"Thou has been long, Beloved!" she cried, and frowned all tenderly,
"Indeed I have not seen thee since the burning noon took wing."
"Mother of mine," he answered, "I have been where I should be
These burdened times of Egypt—beside my Lord the King.
"'Twill take the country many days to gain its old time peace,
But thou shalt suffer nothing;—I, myself, will care for thee
And see that naught doth harm thee—until all these troubles cease;—
These sad and magic doings that no man can solve," said he.
"Ay! That thou wilt," she said. ”

“ Is it early? Is it late? Fairy-clock! O tell me true,
As I blow you down the wind, out upon a road of blue!
THE TEMPLE Enter the temple beautiful! The house not made with hands!
Rain-washed and green, wind-swept and clean,
Beneath the blue it stands,
And no cathedral anywhere
Seemeth so holy or so fair.
It hath no heavy gabled roof, no door with lock and key;
No window-bars shut out the stars,
The aisles are wide and free;—
Here through the night each altar-light
Is but a moon-beam, silver-white. ”

“ They have made the wind salt—the wind at my door;
They harm the good ground—so of weeping—no more.
"Not again!" "Not again!"
Do you hear the sea singing that one refrain?
The pine trees, the wind and the wearysome rain
All whisper it; "Never again!"—"Not again!"
Who can tell me—who knows,
Where his lonely soul travels?
Whither it goes?—
Has he gone like the leaves?—Like yesterday's snows?—
Speak, dear Lord of Death! You who died—and arose!
THE BRIDGE OF DREAMS The thought of thee is like a swinging tune,
A little swinging tune I seem to hear ”

“ All thought 'twas thee, Darby. See, see! when I was fair encased in that Kendal green suit o' thine, why even Dad could not have told 'twas not thy very self! We must be strangely alike o' face, dear heart—though mayhap our souls be different."
"Nay!" he exclaimed, "'tis past belief that thou should'st take my part! My brain whirls to think on't. I saw thee yesternight—the day before—this noon-day—an' thou wert as unruffled as a fresh-blown rose. Naught was wrong with thy colour, and neither by word or sign did'st give me an inkling of such mad doings! ”

“ On did he ride to Goshen, and he called "Arise! Arise!
Thou leader of the Israelites, 'tis I who bid you go!
Take thou these people hence, before the sun hath lit the skies;—
Get thee beyond the border of this land of death and woe!"
Across the plains of Egypt through the shadows of the night
Came the sound as of an army moving onward steadily,
And their leader read his way by the stars' eternal light
While all the legions followed on their journey to the sea. ”

“ For dawn steps down the morning sky, in robes of gray and rose.
O fairies of the forest-ring, and little men in green,
And pixies of the moonlight, and elves no eye hath seen,
Brew us a magic potion, of deep and fairy power,
A draught of Lethe—for one night—to tide us past that hour.
THE FAIRY CLOCK Silver clock! O silver clock! tell to me the time o' day!
Is there yet a little hour left for us to work and play?
Tell me when the sun will set—tiny globe of silver-grey?
It has been so glad a world since the coming of the morn;—
Oft I wondered, when I met any souls who seemed forlorn ”

“ Dear sea, thy world-old wonder-song once more
Sing to us e'er we go.
Give us thy garnered sweets, short summer hour:
Perfume of rose, and balm of sun-steeped pine;
Scent from the lily's cup and horned flower,
Where bees have drained the wine.
Come, small musicians in the rough sea grass,
Pipe us the serenade we love the best;
And winds of midnight, chant for us a mass,
Our hearts would be at rest.
God of all beauty, though the world is thine,
Our faith grows often faint, oft hope is spent ”

“ Debora went to her own room swiftly that third evening, and, turning the key, stood with her two hands pressed tight above her heart. "'Tis over," she said—"'tis over, an' well over. Now to tell Darby. I' faith, I know not rightly who I am. Nay, then, I am just Deb Thornbury, not Darby, nor Juliet, for evermore. Oh! what said he at the steps? 'I know thee, I have known thee from the first. See, thou art mine, thou art mine, I tell thee, Juliet, Juliet!'"
Then the girl laughed, a happy little laugh. "Was ever man so imperative? Nay, was ever such a one in the wide, wide world?" ”

“ For Time he counts not as his foe,
Nor Death his enemy.
A SONG Love maketh its own summer time,
'Tis June, Love, when we are together,
And little I care for the frost in the air,
For the heart makes its own summer weather.
Love maketh its own winter time,
And though the hills blossom with heather,
If you are not near, 'tis December, my dear,
For the heart makes its own winter weather. ”

“ Wind of the sea;
If you are tender they may miss love less—
Where'er they be.
Come, gentle moon, swing low your lantern light
On reddened fields,
And find the lonely harvest of the night
That battle yields.
Banish the darkness filled with quivering dread,
Lest they should know
Some last strange horror,—even they—the dead;—
Sweet moon, swing low!
Fold them at dawn, dear Earth, within your arms
So safe and strong;
Hold them asleep till they forget alarms,
And woe and wrong.
Master of Kings! If peace be bought with pain,
These paid the price ”

“ It is Christmas eve once more, and all the diamond window panes of One Tree Inn—are aglitter with light from the Yule log fire in the front room chimney-place and the many candles Mistress Debora placed in their brass candlesticks.
Little Dorien had followed her joyously from room to room, and many times she had lifted him in her strong, young arms and let him touch the wick with the lighted spill and start the fairy flame. ”

“ On a morning road where the wind is strong,
I may learn again to whistle a song.
Down forest paths, or the ways of the sea,
My soul and my faith may come back to me.
And always and ever beneath the skies,
I will look for a woman with honest eyes.
I will follow no will at all but my own,
And the road I take I will take alone.
"Some day," I said, "before Life is over,
I will shut my house door, and will be a rover." ”

“ A SONG OF LOVE Love reckons not by time—its May days of delight
Are swifter than the falling stars that pass beyond our sight.
Love reckons not by time—its moments of despair
Are years that march like prisoners, who drag the chains they wear.
Love counts not by the sun—it hath no night or day—
'Tis only light when love is near—'tis dark with love away. ”

“ When all was finished, her hair coiled freshly and puffed at the sides as Darby would have it dressed to follow the new fashion; when her shoes, with their great silver buckles and red heels, were laced and tied, and when the frills at her wrist were settled, she looked in the mirror and felt better. It was not possible to view such a vision, knowing that it was one's self, without taking comfort.
"Things be past their worst surely," she said. "An' I have no heart in me this morning to give Darby a harsh word. Marry! men take not kindly to upbraiding, and hate a shrew at best o' times. ”

“ And sing his song in my heart.
And I will live with Delight!
I will know what the children know
When they dance along with the April wind
To find where the catkins grow!
I will dream the old, old dreams,
And look for pixie and fay
In shadowy woods—and out on the hills—
As we did but yesterday.
Love I will keep in my soul—
Ay! even by lock and key!
There is nothing to fear in all of the world
If Love will but stay with me. ”

“ Catches upon her rose-edged robes a star;
And often I have seen at Midnight's hour
The blooming of the Moon's gold wonder-flower.
O look, look, out upon the lovely earth
And take the gift she gave thee at thy birth!
Whate'er betides—all beauty still is thine,—
Drink deep—as did the old gods—of its wine!
A LOVE SONG Oh haste thee, Sweet! Impatient now I wait,
The crescent moon swings low,—it groweth late,—
A night-bird sings of Life, and Love, and Fate!—
Oh haste, my Sweet! ”

“ Sherwood leaned toward her, his eyes dark and luminous. "'Fore Heaven, thou art wrong," he said. "Thou dost belong to me."
"What o' my soul?" she asked, softly. "What o' my soul, Sir Romeo? Is that thine, too?"
"Nay," he answered, looking into her face, white from some inward rebellion. "Nay, then, sweetheart, for I think that is God's."
"Then, thou hast left me nothing," she cried, moving away. "Oh!"—throwing out her hands—"hark thee, Master Sherwood. 'Tis a far cry since thou did'st leave me by the steps at sundown. A far, far cry. The world hath had time to change. ”

“ A SONG OF SUMMER DAYS As pearls slip off a silken string and fall into the sea,
These rounded summer days fall back into eternity.
Into the deep from whence they came; into the mystery—
At set of sun each one slips back as pearls into the sea.
They are so sweet—so warm and sweet—Love fain would hold them fast:
He weeps when through his finger tips they slip away at last.
AT THE PLAY Just above the boxes and where the high lights fall
Looketh down a carven face from out the gilded wall. ”

“ Above the entrance there is the huge sign of Atlas carrying his load and beneath, the words in Latin, 'All the world acts a play.'"
Debora tossed her head and caught her breath quickly. "My patience is gone with thee, since thou art minded to take me for a very fool, Darby Thornbury," she said with short cutting inflection. "Hearts mercy! 'Tis not the outside o' the playhouses I desire to see, as thou dost understand—'tis the inside—where Master Shakespeare is and the great Burbage, an' Kemp, an' all o' them. Be not so unkind to thy little sister. ”

“ A tiny brook sun-dappled, that frets and sings and worries,
A rough adventurous little brook that calls and calls to me!
Windy March weather, and the old spring madness
Tempting us to take the trail that wanders free and far,—
Whispering of magic roads that wind to lands of gladness,
Where vanished joys and lost delights and garnered treasures are!
ON SILVER NIGHTS On silver nights I cannot sleep;—
The ancient moon from far above,
Bids me arise, and run and keep
A rendezvous with one I love. ”

“ The moon that shineth overhead once saw these mysteries—
And then the world was young, that hath these many years been old;
If Egypt drank her bitter cup down even to the lees
Who careth now? 'Tis but an ancient tale that hath been told.
Yet still we hear the footsteps—as he goeth to and fro—
Of Azrael, the Angel, that the Lord God sent below,
To Egypt—long ago.
A SONG OF POPPIES I love red poppies! Imperial red poppies!
Sun-worshippers are they;
Gladly as trees live through a hundred summers
They live one little day.
I love red poppies! Impassioned scarlet poppies! ”

“ Deb," he said, looking up at her adoringly. "'Twill be something to remember—should I live—an' if not, well—'tis not every man who dies with a kiss on his lips."
"Thou must not talk," she said.
"No," he answered, faintly, "nor keep thee. Yet promise me one thing."
"What would'st have me promise?"
"That thou wilt return on the morrow to Shottery. London is no place for thee now."
"I will go," answered the girl; "though I would fain take care of thee here, Nick."
"That thou must not think of," he replied. "I will fare—as God wills. Go thou home to Shottery." ”

“ THE CROSSES The little lonely crosses, the crosses low and white,
They haunt me most in the silver hour
That lies against the night;
Or when the rose-dusk dawn comes in,
With a star for candlelight.
The little lonely crosses in fields so far away,
They cast a shadow on my path—
And, take which road I may,
It follows, follows, follows—
Throughout the livelong day.
O little lonely crosses that gentle hands have made,
You mean to us forevermore
The price that has been paid
For a heritage of Freedom,
And a People unafraid. ”

“ Left a great path, and down the path there shone
The Light of all the world.
The Light from whose mysterious golden depths
The Sun rose in his might—
The light from whose white, hidden fires were lit
The torches of the night;
The Light that shining on a thing of clay
Giveth it Life and Will:
The Light that with an unknown power can blast
And bid all life be still;
The Light that calls a ray of its own light
A man's undying soul—
The Light that lifts the broken lives of earth,
Touches and makes them whole. ”

“ Try not to walk. I will lift thee to the bed an' call Dame Blossom. Marry! what queer things women be."
"Ay! truly," she answered, faintly, steadying herself against him. "Ay! vastly queer. Nay, I will not go to the bed, but will sit in your chair."
"Thou art white as linen," anxiously. "May I leave thee to call the Dame? I fear me lest thou go off again."
"Fear naught o' that," said Deb, with a little curl of her lips. "An' call Mistress Blossom an' thou wilt, but 'tis nothing; there—dear heart, I will be well anon. Hast not some jaunt for to-night? I would not keep thee, Darby." ”

“ For some great love with faithfulness unfailing
Will light the stars to bear him company.
Out in the silence of the mountain passes,
The heart makes peace and liberty its own—
The wind that blows across the scented grasses
Bringing the balm of sleep—comes not alone.
Beneath the vast illimitable spaces
Where God has set His jewels in array,
A man may pitch his tent in desert places
Yet know that heaven is not so far away. ”

“ Run too lightly with the wind,—chased too many shining wings;
Thought too seldom of the night, and the silence that it brings.
Well I fear me I have been but an idler in the sun;
All unfinished are the tasks long and long ago begun;—
In the dark perchance they weep, who have left their work undone. ”

“ As the good Dame came close, the girl threw her arms about her neck.
"Why, sweet lamb!" exclaimed the woman. "What hath happened thee? Whatever hath happened thee?"
"What is one to do when the whole world go'th wrong?" cried Debora. "Oh! gaze not so at me, I be not dazed or distraught. Oh! dear Mistress Blossom, I care not to live to be as old as thou art. I am forewearied o' life."
"Weary o' life! an' at thy time! My faith, thou hast not turned one-and-twenty! Why, then, Mistress Debora, I be eight-an'-forty, yet count that not old by many a year." ”

“ Is wine against thy lips—and all her weeds
Are in thine eyes as flowers. She is fair
In all her moods to thee—and even there,
See! thou dost dream of her above thy beads.
"Rouse thee from out thy dreams! Awake! Awake!
Thou priest who cometh of a martial line!—
Thou hast its strength, thy will no man can break:
Go forth unarmed, the law of love to take
Into a lonely land, that yet is Mine." ”