Louis Selmer

“ There in the ghost-light, taunting and strange?
There where all visions pale them and range?
There where all time-light, tho’ vaunting its star,
The hushes come numbing, so voiceless and far?
Yet there, even there, evermore,
Since first streameth a dawn,
Hardy and wild, tho’ ungrown,
Tolling his death-song, muffling their lore,
The brave lyrics of life,
Speeds not the strife,
Stalks not the War?
As he moody fulfills those inscrutable Wills—
At one hand, the Spirit’s, on the other, the Sod’s,
That anointed of Gods ”

“ Let new days deck her in a nobler wreath,
A serener vision lift that groveling brow,
Duress and rancor, while they bated breathe,
Against some Presence where the deep Fates bow,
And, veiled speakers, with mute lay-on hands
Ordain, atoning, while the sky-paths chime,
In anthems swelling past their starren strands,
That ever postulant, sore-vicared Time.
Why then—shall Hope not speak it, find no moan was lost,
She, whose heave of sorrow bade the Destinies shrive,
Say why her ventures came so sorely tossed,
So hard at sea, till Faith did question their at-all arrive? ”

“ And Destiny muse Time’s vanished stage.
Shall hours blank its annaled score,
But bear it down t’ward yet to-comes,
At echoed gleam, set forth yon lore,
Which word, nor thought, nor heart-heave sums—
Yon love of Free, whose far-off fount,
Which, say it flow through beast and slave,
Withal, bids man stand up, assert, account
Exalt the gift—some Self, some Soul it gracious gave;
Yon voice of Just, whose auguring sooth
Wide-visioned bounds these Nears and Fars,
While infinite Patience, she, the Truth,
Revealed, fulfills her myriad Stars. ”

“ Those hairy temples where the gross thoughts strive
To vie the light no false faith borrows, so its sheen may bless
And cloak the trickster while his jugglings thrive;
But like a shadow shall its wonder chill:
So even here: it left more pinched the low brow there,
Yet, as if sorry even for unrighteous will,
Made still, for ruth, the base ridge wear,
At upward blazon ’tward yon veiled Deeps,
Where the lights ensky them past the zenith star,
A blot—a bruise, whose fiery throb no opiate sleeps,
A branding, brazen, yet a piteous scar ”

“ Each waft, his way. Close Night unhoods;
No more beneath her grim gaze shrinks,
But featured fair, in tribute ruds
Each nether thing, and lifesome drinks.
(Full Dawn.)
But, O, scene-painting Light, what stage is yon?
Dim-figured tho’, what grim play breeds?
Troy’s second act? Where Hector stout, some Thetis’ son,
The deadly phalanx girds and leads?
What fatal Beauty bears in hand
With strumpet’s lure this sore divide?
For lo, her brow, to venal brand,
Reads fierce with lust of worldly pride!
Why wears true Grace so blanched a cheek? ”

“ No Faith to hallow, save what Reason hold,
Rank-rooting never in no soil but Self,
Till Hope, an exile—say she breathe at all—
Strangered and out of rights, eats her own heart,
In weary banishment and quail of man:—
If this be so, if that could be—were it better not,
Thus tricked and thwarted of thy clearer self,
This Present, pathless, with worse maze before—
Were it better not, white days should cease them,
And the Stars to roll, invite disruption, and, thro’ wrack
Of things, with leveling Chaos plead afresh some chance
For nobler being and the worthier life? ”

“ What balm, tho’ gross with clumsy tape,
What quacks’ set-up in surgeon’s guise
Came foisting, fuddling from the Cape!
What hangman’s cure and mad appeal,
What blind invoke past doubt of suit,
What sowings thrust with iron heel,
Whose yet no half has bore its fruit!
Oh, yes, thro’ stress and truce, and right along,
It still repeats the old-time game,
How brother Weak met brother Strong,
Who saw, and took, and felt no shame.
Whom so self-dread, that final awe,
Could graft on soul this chastening sense—
That endless widening circles Law,
Rules nations’ hopes as single mens’. ”

“ Shall Great be greater not, tho’ it lowly comes,
The reward o’ertook not ere the Right say well?
Shalt thou sink hellward not the sorry law,
Which bids rude Strength—be it brain, or brawn’s—
Sit, lofty scorning, by the counseling heart,
So unaccompanied place its monstrous tribute at vain
Feet of pride, and brutish idols of the adoring sense,
On specious plea of covetous ambition—all its rage to have and wield—
Give wage to sorrow than be frankly served
By lasting wisdom and the patient hope,
While Policy and Smug Expedience wink Fresh Cues at all? ”

“ Plumb thro’ a nest of hornets, nor never dreamt the hive
Had such a trick to mind him how were that tail alive.
And it seems the skies were blathering while every wind-god swore
The Pities would have curdled to hear the Beastie roar.
All offered salve and comfort, said never done was Wrong,
But some requiting Themis should venge it to her song;
Should smite the pesting dwarfies and heal the giant’s bruise,
See paw and toothie peak not for lack of worthy use. ”

“ Full-orbed, if ever, thro’ yet feud of Days,
Whose strides would bridge it, but contrive no span,
Where, beneath, tides on forever, yea, in shrewder maze
Time’s scruteless burden, since his own began;
Whose Strange withal to lighten, ’less all hope were dumb,
And, ere the Riddle wearied that no answer grew,
What still some sad twinge told him must abide its sum,
Yet, on some wild prospect that chance Glory knew,
In this crude fashion sought to draw the Seraph out:
“Why dost thou moan? Will Man ne’er know thee as thou really art? ”

“ Curt and clear tho’, did the touches fall,
Such pithy halves as outspeak the Whole:
Are you with me still? Can you check a flout?
Then stretch a will to hear it out?
VIDELICET:
(Hour before Dawn—The Muse brooding.)
O, what hangs so leaden on the brow of Night,
As if grim Darkness ’pon herself had bred,
To make a second and a direr gloom?
What wrestles so the advent of the Light,
Whence from yon paths the white stars tread
Should visioned peer its orient bloom?
What thrills, withal, do baffled heave,
Then urge anew against the serried Dark,
At such beseech, their silent suit? ”

“ Have ceased their brawl,
Mad sport that drew
War’s winged hounds, and harpies flew,
Fanned foul the airs and thicked their breath,
Each heave at bouts with throttling Death.
While from the din there rose, I thought,
Brave strains of man no fear might toss:
If, echoing these, a few I wrought
Into rude posies, strove to cross
Their wildness with the rose of art,—
Ah! they were such slips as throws the heart,
Grafts tongue on thought ”

“ That veering Trade or waning marts—
All drift that swerves with human need—
May tide with looks the franker Light,
With crafty lead, its artless youth,
While Just, a bawd to brazen Right,
New bastards bear the groaning Truth. ”

“ The lifting spirit of the thankful heart?
Shalt thou not make it goodly clear,
’Tis not Endeavor which alone achieves,
Save as it aim averts not, but for grace upholds,
Crowns true some spirit, would set struggling forth,
At vast contention and in emulous pride,
Yon speechless comment which the Hopes give out,
For fresh construction of the rigid text,
The nice enactment, tho’ dispiteous code,
Whose leased expression and whose outward sum
Are Nature’s equities and ways about? ”

“ Lest unto all after time,
With the burden of my rhyme,
The unholy jar do foully blend,
Grudge and mar its noblest chime:
Burden, with whose nameless Deep,
Tho’ sad paths dim courses keep,
Yet repeats, invoking still,
Anthemed, the responsive will,
Suffered federate with the Prime.”
“Have thy ways confess me just,
Lest the Fate, whose hand unfolds
Devious what the world-lust holds,
Shut out all bound twixt thee and dust:
Lest large things, that she did write,
Tricked of faith and worthy scope—
Hence, unmusicked of the Hope—
Juggling blot my tablet’s white ”

“ Alone shall lift mid prides that sink,
To foison come, ’mid thorny steeps of mazy ways,
Where ruthless heats far-fated drink,
Make nought the sap of lustful days;
So pledged alone endure, enlarge,
Make good, withal, some vicared trust,
Undue to hope yon scruteless charge
Whose brief is Time and riddling Dust;
So nurtured, rear, while Right unfolds,
Athwart rude stretch of the perplexing Plan’s,
Some keep, some faith, that sheltering holds,
Sets God twice forth, thro’ will of Man’s. ”

“ In the Strong, may hollow drape and play the Just.”
Usurp and steal in that fair shape,
For fellowship with him the roysterer, Sword,
Shut out her cheer, the gentle Word,
Profane her wreath, its laurel ape;
Steel twice the heart, glass dark this law:
“There be no Truth: one bitter blank the Heavens go.” ”

“ While at gate of mind no sentry sat,
But such blithe watch and ward whereat
The Fancy laughs, more tricksy sports her airy gleams—
Had dipped—unrobed, immersed, for all she fought,
In the bath, each leaden limb of weary Thought. ”

“ Applying to its sorry wound the comfort of the salve,
Which ’gainst Time’s woe, for even him, the high Hopes breed,
Allays that brutal sting—his love of Rule and lust of Have.
But out, alas! When sad companion of the fated Night,
Whence, struggling tho’ her bitter spur, his dark will came,
He aims to conjure with yon gentler Light,
To screen his knavish Cant, filch Glory’s name ”

“ And out of stillier Deeps—unfathomed, shrouded than the tomb-hush came—
A Vision rose upon her stony, sad, beblinded eyes:—
A passioned Shrine, where smiling lay, in chastening flame,
The white child, Truth—a seraph winging, ’gainst its mighty Rise,
Past Pain and Evil, all fierce brood they bore ”

“ What craze infatuate demons in yon soft spot bred,
Whence this vile feeling in each once firm limb?
What worked such odious rouse in one so free?
Made this man loathe her, so defy all fate,
That in his eye the price has fallen of all things but Hate,
Wide Earth, unregioned, where her realms not be? ”

“ Its countenance o’er the darkened land?
Shall Love not smile and understand?
[3] A sequel to lines on page 84.
SINE DIE.
Full zodiacs three the fiery sun,
Thro’ maze of stars, his web has spun,
Since War’s late grimy page begun
To blaze its line—the bloody hand
Whose lurid strokes bade Peace to stand.
And, World-heart, O, what hast thou won?
And, is the sad act past and done?
Or, does its score, sunk wide and deep,
In some blind hell fierce-copied keep,
For Days, which, tho’ their loath pace creep,
Oft span with strides each reckoned Far ”

“ Quite twists, the way his craving came;
That a wider mark went roves with Fame:
E’en so—the fatuous head he gave his star
Balked still true rise, yon warier climb,
Which must match foot with patient Time.
But, take in both; let honor owe
Some voice to each; yet some base touch no merit downs,
Sinks born kings to range with clowns,
Wreaked here its curse thro’ human law,
And, deriving whence no issue sleep,
Would have had yon stern verdict keep.
Since, so had no lure that Mammon piles
Blazed wide to men, “I know ye all ”

“ At Heaven’s clear, tho’ mute intent,
By as we head, to hold her pace.
“And this fellow, certes, has sore behoof
To take a word from wiser mouths,
Who has stretched his crib and smoky roof
Whence North-from, down, the zone-line souths;
“Almost a split—a crying jag;
A scare at top, a threat, below;
An ugly tuck that scrimps the bag
We meant to fill as harvests grow.
“In our big sail a plaguy reef,
Were it not that craft o’ his pert make
With too much head have come to grief,
Strew bottom up our rushing wake.
“Against the owl what counts the mouse? ”

“ He’ll soon see clear thro’ his amaze,
With contrite heart—the leal man.
“And Square-toes’ gait at last be set;
With social wash to status brought
His lowly breed and rustic sweat:
O, God of Thrift! What happy thought!”
* * * * * * * *
When hard upon this longish muse,
Which, if it fail of absolute mold,
Is yet what, at a close peruse,
A muddled act does broadly hold—
When pat, to suit Godfather’s cue,
That pious child, the hungry League
Was christened snug and gospeled through,
Anoint with salve of high intrigue ”

“ Lest Truth, sore tossed, succumb despair,
Exhort no more, inspiring tongued the womby air.
Whereon, as if to merge each single act,
Fuse straying motive, pledge them one,
Have, whence ’mid blaze of myriad sun,
The Theme enacts, or, where trite performs the meanest fact,
Some prompting Light declare, “this scene spake true,
Broad-based on Just to climax grew.”
Nay, as to have once more this Sponsor say:
“Tho’ wrath with ruth perplex my theme,
And thro’ pall of cloud my pathways gleam,
And truckling augurs bode them nay ”

“ Must have her jog at slug-slow Time:
How far it rouse his hard-bound hide—
Ah! there’s the test of quickening rhyme!
THE GIBBET-SONG. [1]
[1] The onus of the South African War seems, in the main, to have rested on three pairs of shoulders—those of Rhodes (who has now excused himself) , Chamberlain and Milner.
The Gallows is a composite something—a sort of trio-also—known to assume burdens, likewise, to-wit: the Beam, the Trap, and the Rope. ”

“ What brutish yokes less hardened cleave?
How did he ease them—with what large conceive?
What forces muster ’gainst the Dark, but their array
Broke from the leadership of trusting Day,
Gave faction life, grew to command,
And, cozening, won him from the straighter way—
The same, in whose plain view yon heavens stand,
Rear wide this word, tho’ blurred with Dust,
“That truly great must first be just.”
CHAMBERLAIN.
Stalk Right, from crafty cover of the Might ”