Dora Sigerson Shorter

“ Not peace did you gain, perhaps, nor the rest you had planned,
’Neath the horrible countless eyes that you could not withstand?
Or was it God looked from his throne in a moment’s disdain,
And you shrieked for a trial once more in the height of your pain?
p. 99Perhaps—but who knows—when you struggled so hard for life’s breath,
You saw nothing passing the grave except silence and death,
You lay shut in by the four clay walls of your cell,
There the live soul locked up in the stiff dead body’s shell. ”

“ There is danger on the waters—there is joy where dangers be—
Alas! to be a woman and the nomad’s heart in me.
p. 66Ochone! to be a woman, only sighing on the shore—
With a soul that finds a passion for each long breaker’s roar,
With a heart that beats as restless as all the winds that blow—
Thrust a cloth between her fingers, and tell her she must sew;
Must join in empty chatter, and calculate with straws—
For the weighing of our neighbour—for the sake of social laws.
O chatter, chatter, chatter, when to speak is misery,
When silence lies around your heart—and night is on the sea. ”

“ Fled the laughter of men for the anger of God—alone.
Perhaps when the hot blood streamed on the daisied sod,
Poor soul, you were likened to Cain, and you fled from God;
p. 96Men say you fought hard for your life, when the deed was done;
But your body would rise no more ’neath this world’s sun.
I’d choose—should I do the act—such a night as this,
When the sea throws up white arms for the wild wind’s kiss;
When the waves shake the shuddering shore with their foamy jaws;
Tear the strand, till slipping pebbles shriek through their claws.
The sky is loud with the storm ”

“ You laughed at me.
p. 38WISHES I wish we could live as the flowers live,
To breathe and to bloom in the summer and sun;
To slumber and sway in the heart of the night,
And to die when our glory had done.
I wish we could love as the bees love,
To rest or to roam without sorrow or sigh;
With laughter, when, after the wooer had won,
Love flew with a whispered good-bye.
I wish we could die as the birds die,
To fly and to fall when our beauty was best:
No trammels of time on the years of our face ”

“ When the winds are out and calling to this vagrant heart of mine.
Whisht! it whistles at the windows, and how can I be still?
There! the last leaves of the beech-tree go dancing down the hill.
All the boats at anchor they are plunging to be free—
O to be a sailor, and away across the sea!
When the sky is black with thunder, and the sea is white with foam,
The gray-gulls whirl up shrieking and seek their rocky home,
Low his boat is lying leeward, how she runs upon the gale,
As she rises with the billows, nor shakes her dripping sail. ”

“ Of the scented flowers, or lilt of a bird’s gay tune.
No sea there, or no cool of a wind’s fresh breath,
No woods, no plains, no dreams, and alas! no death?
Was there no life there that man’s brain could understand?
No past, no future, hopes to come, in that strange land?
No human love, no sleep, no day, no night,
But ever eternal living in eternal light?
p. 100Perhaps the soul thus springing to fill its grave,
Found all the peace and happiness that it could crave ”

“ Was it a mother’s call, or the touch of a baby’s kiss,
That followed your desperate soul down the black abyss?
p. 98What did you see—as you stood on the other side—
A strange shy soul amongst souls, did you seek to hide
From the ghosts that were who judged you upon your way,
Reckoned your sins against theirs for the judgment day?
You feared the world, the pity of men or their scorn,
The movements of fate and the sorrows for which you were born.
Men’s laughter, men’s speech, their judging, what was it to this
Where the eyes of the dead proclaim you have done amiss. ”

“ From here to the mist; beasts are silent; yet for a man,
For a soul springing naked to meet its judge, a night
That were as a brother to this poor spirit’s long flight.
But he had chosen, they tell me, a dusk so fair
One almost thought there were not such another—there.
p. 97The air was full of the perfume of pines, and the sweet
Sleepy chirp of birds, long the lush soft grass at his feet. ”

“ No southern breezes come to bless,
So conscious of their emptiness
My lonely arms I spread in woe,
I want you so.
p. 30A BIRD FROM THE WEST At the grey dawn, amongst the felling leaves,
A little bird outside my window swung,
High on a topmost branch he trilled his song,
And “Ireland! Ireland! Ireland!” ever sung.
Take me, I cried, back to my island home;
Sweet bird, my soul shall ride between thy wings ”

“ Wirastrua! wirastrua! would I were lying as cold as you.
p. 81QUESTIONS What is the secret of your life, browsing ox,
Ox the sweet grass eating?
Who strung the mighty sinews in your flesh?
Who set that great heart beating?
What is the secret of your death, soulless ox,
Ox so patiently waiting?
Why hath pain wove her net for your brain’s anguish
If for you Death will gain no life’s creating? ”

“ Just over my neighbour’s wall.
But now I want his thrushes,
And now I want his vine,
If I cannot have his cherries
That grow more red than mine.
p. 71The serpent ’neath his apples
Will tempt me to my fall,
And then—I’ll steal my neighbour’s fruit
Across the garden wall.
p. 72AN IRISH BLACKBIRD This is my brave singer,
With his beak of gold;
Now my heart’s a captive
In his song’s sweet hold.
O, the lark’s a rover,
Seeking fields above:
But my serenader
Hath a human love.
“Hark!” he says, “in winter
Nests are full of snow,
But a truce to wailing
Summer breezes blow.” ”

“ And cried ‘For shame!’ on my fairy charms;
p. 2She sobs, with the strange child on her breast:
‘I love the weak, wee babe the best!’”
To Dermod O’Byrne’s, the tale to hear,
The neighbours came from far and near:
Outside his gate, in the long boreen,
They crossed themselves, and said between
Their muttered prayers, “He has no luck!
For sure the woman is fairy-struck,
To leave her child a fairy guest,
And love the weak, wee wean the best!”
p. 3A BALLAD OF MARJORIE “What ails you that you look so pale,
O fisher of the sea?” ”

“ But my neighbour would rest her needle
To answer, “He’s false I know.”
“For could it be he were sleeping.
With a love that was such as this
He’d have burst through the gates of silence,
And flown to meet her kiss.”
Is she best with tears or laughter,
This dame in her old brocade?
My neighbour says she is holy,
With a faith that will not fade.
* * * * *
But the children out on the common
They answer her dreary call,
And say: “He will come to-morrow!”
Who never will come at all.
p. 80WIRASTRUA Wirastrua, wirastrua, woe to me that you are dead! ”