Sir Charles G. D. Roberts

“ My wind-worn dwelling and thy wave-worn strand
How many miles, how many mountains are!
And thou beside the winter sea alone
Art walking, with thy cloak about thy face.
Bleak, bleak the tide, and evening coming on;
And gray the pale, pale light that wans thy face.
Solemnly breaks the long wave at thy feet ”

“ And sullenly in patches clings the snow
Upon the low, red rocks worn round with years.
[66] I see thine eyes, I see their grave desire,
Unsatisfied and lonely as the sea’s;—
Yet how unlike the wintry sea’s despair!
For could my feet but follow, thine, my hands
But reach for thy warm hands beneath thy cloak,
What summer joy would lighten in thy face,
What sunshine warm thine eyes, and thy sad mouth
Break to a dewy rose, and laugh on mine! ”

“ The Wrestler
When God sends out His company to travel through the stars,
There is every kind of wonder in the show;
There is every kind of animal behind its prison bars;
With riders in a many-colored row.
The master showman, Time, has a strange trick of rhyme,
And the clown’s most ribald jest is a tear;
But the best drawing card is the Wrestler huge and hard,
Who can fill the tent at any time of year. ”

“ Globe of dew and gossamer,
Fading and ephemeral spirits
In the dusk astir.
Moth and blossom, blade and bee,
Worlds must go as well as we,
In the long procession joining
Mount, and star, and sea.
Toward the shadowy brink we climb
Where the round year rolls sublime,
Rolls, and drops, and falls forever
In the vast of time;
[51]
Like a plummet plunging deep
Past the utmost reach of sleep,
Till remembrance has no longer
Care to laugh or weep.
[52]
Earth’s Complines
Before the feet of the dew
There came a call I knew,
Luring me into the garden
Where the tall white lilies grew. ”

“ The brook bared its pebbles to persuade her dainty feet,
But the dainty, dainty maid was not content.
She had spied a simple country lad (for dainty maid unmeet) ,
And the shy water twinkled as it went.
[122]
As the simple lad drew nigh, then this dainty, dainty maid,
(O maidens, well you know how it was done!)
Stood a-gazing at her feet until he saw she was afraid
Of the water there a-whimpling in the sun.
Now that simple lad had in him all the makings of a man;
And he stammered, “I had better lift you over!”
Said the dainty, dainty maid—“Do you really think you can?” ”

“ The little busy hands and restless feet
Here find that rest is sweet;
For sweetly, from the hands grown tired of play,
The child-world slips away,
With its confusion of forgotten toys
And kind, familiar noise.
Not lonely does he lie in his last bed,
For love o’erbroods his head.
[41] Kindly to him the comrade grasses lean
Their fellowship of green.
The wilding meadow companies give heed,—
Brave tansy, and the weed
That on the dyke-top lifts its dauntless stalk,—
Around his couch they talk. ”

“ His grip grows mild for the dotard and the child,
But alike they must all go under.
Oh, many a mighty foeman would try a fall with him—
Persepolis and Babylon and Rome,
Assyria and Sardis, they see their fame grow dim,
As he tumbles in the dust every dome.
At length will come an hour when the stars shall feel his power,
And he shall have his will upon the sun.
Ere we know what he’s about, the stars will be put out,
And the wonder of the show will be undone.
[120]
The Ballad of Crossing the Brook
Oh, it was a dainty maid that went a-Maying in the morn,
A dainty, dainty maiden of degree. ”

“ But he to the hearthside comes no more,
Home, home in the evening.
[112]
Sleepy Man
When the Sleepy Man comes with the dust on his eyes
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
He shuts up the earth, and he opens the skies.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
He smiles through his fingers, and shuts up the sun;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
The stars that he loves he lets out one by one.
(So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!)
[113]
He comes from the castles of Drowsy-boy Town ”

“ The merry grasses growing.
He lay so still he dropped asleep;
And then the Muse came by.
The stars were in her garment’s sweep,
But laughter in her eye.
“Poor boy!” she said, “how tired he seems!
His vagrant feet must follow
So many loves, so many dreams,—
(To find them mostly hollow!) ”

“ The king’s haughty crown drops in jeers from his pate
As the hold closes on him, and he reels.
[119] The burly and the proud, the braggarts of the crowd,
Every one of them he topples down in thunder. ”

“ For kind courtesies in regard to the reprinting of such poems my grateful acknowledgments are due to the editors of Harper’s Magazine, The Century, The Atlantic Monthly, Scribner’s Magazine, The Cosmopolitan, Massey’s Magazine, The Yellow Book, Harper’s Weekly, The Independent, Munsey’s Magazine, The Chap-Book, The Outlook, The Youth’s Companion, Harper’s Bazar, St. Nicholas, Truth.
C. G. D. R.
Fredericton, N.B., August, 1896.
[4]
[5]
To
Goodridge Bliss Roberts
The kindly strength of open fields,
The faith of eve, the calm of air,
They lift my spirit close to thee
In memory and prayer. ”