Carmen Sylva

“ And though the world should crush thine heart and say
"Behold! 'tis dust and ashes!"—though it scatter
Those ashes to the winds—yet art thou still
Pure and unconquerable, O my heart!
Thou art of those to whom an open foe
Is but a friend disguised; to whom each blow
Serves as a force to send thee ever higher,
Far above yawning gulf and raging whirlpool.
O heart of mine, be strong! Doubt not, for doubt
Was ever the one deadly foe, whose toils
Might strangle thee. Up! fight that monster, trample
Its venom under foot. ”

“ In burning folds about thee, sears thy flesh,
And eats into thy bones. 'Tis like a weapon
A man turns on himself, whose wound nought heals,
Since it is dealt against his inmost soul.
If, then, through clouds of sadness, thou perceivest
The world, well mayst thou say of it: 'Tis hell!
For spring itself is dark, the birds' sweet carol
Cheerless and dull, thy life a very desert,
Where human faces pass like spectral visions,
And gladness is a thing so clean forgotten,
As if it ne'er had been—its very name
Become a soundless word, a ghostly whisper!
{68}
WHEN JOY IS DEAD
BE still! ”

“ To call thee forth, the dead past comes to life,
And drives thee, with its flood of whirling waters,
Onward to action, not to idle dreaming.
{63} Arise! walk on those waves, for they will bear thee.
Trust thine own strength, and tread the flakes of foam
Lightly, with wingèd feet, with wingèd soul!
And thou shalt see that gales have left untouched
The springtime in thy heart, still breaking forth
In admiration, thankfulness and love.
Yes, not even love is quenched, and still undimmed
Enthusiasm's banner waves on high above thee.
Thou fearest the world? And what then is the world? ”

“ No mystery for thee, but Light from heaven!
{7}
OUT OF THE DEEP
THY soul grows silent, when its accents are
Disturbed, and low thy heart, when dark a burden
Has deeply covered it. Thy soul is proud.
When thou hast made it free of wants and wishes,
Then art thou rich.
Our life is seldom open,
For love and fear have shut it. When we lay
It open, there is nought to show in it,
But wounds and burning pain.
Mysterious is
{8} Thy power, great as it may be, a trial
Of thine own will and of the curb upon
Thyself ”

“ Destroy thee, meaning well with thee—so well,
That they as lief would see thee dead, not to
Belong to what they hate—thy work, thy friend,
Thy strong ambition, or the gift that God
Hath put into thy soul, that calleth thee
Away to other heights and other temples,
Then where they long have worshipped. They dislike
Thy road, thy word, they call it strange and dark,
And they would lead thee back to where they started
So long ago with thee, and show the wrong
Thou doest quite unwittingly. A sigh,
A smile is all thine answer, but thy way
Is chosen ”

“ Thy tortured limbs seem cords strung by the storm,
Thy thoughts a tangled skein, unclear, disordered,
And all the past that should have been forgotten
Rising up ghostly, in fantastic guise,
{75} To make the present worse, to slay all hope,
To quench the beacon that till now has been
Thy only stay in night's deep gloom and horror!
This, O my soul! is Unrest, and thou knowest
Its misery but too well! All the old scars
Of former battles bleed once more within thee,
As if thy life were oozing, drop by drop. ”

“ IF green the corn and burning the volcano,
Though snowclad, buried under rocks of ice,
Why shall the heart not love and burn in waving
Expectant green, or rising flames of hot
Enthusiasm, or burst into a torrent
Of wrath, though snow the summit long hath crowned?
Behold! The field is green, the seed has risen
That thou hast thrown into these aching furrows,
Once ploughed by Destiny, and sown with sorrow
And watered with the wells of tears, that dropped
{20} Upon each grain and flowed through all the furrows. ”

“ Such is life! A stream
{15} From unknown heights through storm and dangerous fall,
Through unknown land and never-ending work
Unto Eternity's great, unknown sea.
You cannot rise above the height you come from,
You only widen and expand—but downwards,—
Your strength is gone, your impetus is quenched.
And then the world will call you great and grand,
And make a fortune out of all those waters:
Your tears, your blood, your work, and what you spent;
The strength of all your aims and all your falls!
{16}
IN THE RUSHING WIND
THE wind hath whirled the leaves from off the tree. ”

“ A tear of all those tears that burnt your cheeks,
And ploughed the furrows into them.
You see
How others work again and weep again,
And hope and fear. Thy alabaster room
With marble floor and dainty hangings has
A look so still, that others wonder why
They feel it churchlike. All thy life is here;
Thy life hath built the vault and paved it, and
Thy hands have woven yonder curtains that
Surround thy seat, a shady sunshine.
Age
{6} Is feeble not to thee, as all thy wishes
Are silent and demand no effort. ”

“ They see the snow upon thine head, but not
The corn and not the threat'ning furnace of
Thy soul. They think it is extinct, they hope
Thou hast forgotten, that the gentle warmth
They feel is sunshine, not the stormy fire,
That cannot cease to burn: for it remembers.
{21}
SOLITUDE
THE greatest friend, the friend that dwells with thee,
When the wild turmoil of the world is thrust
Aside, when e'en thy smile may rest, that shield,
That weapon, armour, gauntlet, laid aside,
Will leave thy soul to sculpt thy features with
Her own deep chisel ”

“ Your couch a bed of coals. The weary head
Is cool, the limbs lie still, and thought comes gently
Like a nurse's well-known ditty, that will lull
To sleep thee with its sameness. Rest hath come
At last, and looks into thy room, into
Thy heart, and sends forgetfulness, like balm,
{31} Like a flower's perfume through thy silent chamber.
The clock is peaceful with its quiet beat,
And night and morn are one; they bring no struggle.
Sweet Rest hath come, great, wingèd, heaven-born,
To lead thee to thy home with angels' hands. ”

“ An outcry goeth forth from thee towards
Thyself, then will great solitude enfold
{22} Thee, and her wings will hush the tempest.
Fear not that angel's gravity, the look
His searching eye will plunge into thy heart.
Fear not the whisp'ring of his lips: Remember!
For ev'ry word of thine, each working of
Thy soul is booked, indelible the writing,
It is encircled in the movement of
The worlds and has its history. Thy soul,
Itself a world, belongs to Solitude. It is
So lonely that no crowd of friends, nor e'en
One friend can take its loneliness away. ”

“ And then upon the shoulder of the Queen.
The shoulder bears the weight, the head the burden;
The shoulder lifts, the head must carry. Great
For both the heaviness, the endless pain,
{11} For both the thorns, for both hard labour, thankless
Unending work, the sorrow of their people,
The care of each and all, the scorching tears
Of all, that make their path a desert, and
Their robe so heavy, as if dew had changed
Into the icy hangings of the frost. ”

“ Here was the answer: Millions and yet millions
Of rising worlds, and every people's art,
And all religions may but serve to form
My human likeness, so that men behold
Me great as mortal eye and brain encompass. ”

“ Will shed a gentle ray, and show the haven,
When all the world, stormshaken, rudderless, will pray:
If but her century would shine again!
Oh, Lord! Why hast thou ta'en thy peaceful Queen?
{4}
A FRIEND
OLD age is gentle as an autumn morn ”