“ If we were only free, dear, free to meet,
Dear, I would take you by your big, strong hand
And kiss your dear boy eyes so blue and sweet;
But my dead husband lies under the sheet,
Dead in my heart, dear, lovely, lonely one,
So, Jim, my dear, my loving days are done.
But though my heart is buried in his grave
Something might be--friendship and utter trust--
And you, my dear starved little Jim shall have
Flowers of friendship from my dead heart's dust;
Life would be sweet if men would never lust.
Why do you, Jimmy? Tell me sometime, dear,
Why men are always what we women fear. ”

“ In the dim lamplight Jimmy thought her holy,
A lovely fragile thing for him to tend,
Grace beyond measure, beauty without end.
'Anna,' he said; 'Good-night. This is the door.
I never knew what people meant before.'
'Good-night, my friend. Good-bye.' 'But, O my sweet,
The night's quite early yet, don't say good-bye,
Come just another short turn down the street,
The whole life's bubbling up for you and I.
Somehow I feel to-morrow we may die.
Come just as far as to the blacksmith's light.'
But 'No' said Anna; 'Not to-night. Good-night.'
All the tides triumph when the white moon fills. ”

“ Perhaps some wicked woman will come masked
Into your life, my dear, to ruin you.
And trusting every woman as you do
It might mean death to love and be deceived;
You'd take it hard, I thought, and so I grieved.'
'Dear one, dear Anna.' 'O my lovely boy,
Life is all golden to the finger tips.
What will be must be: but to-day's a joy.
Reach me that lovely branch of scarlet hips.'
He reached and gave; she put it to her lips.
'And here,' she said, 'we come to Plaister Turns.'
And then she chose the road to Shepherd Ern's. ”

“ And white October clouds in the blue air.
So tea was made, and down they sat to drink;
O the pale beauty sitting at the board!
There is more death in women than we think,
There is much danger in the soul adored,
The white hands bring the poison and the cord;
Death has a lodge in lips as red as cherries,
Death has a mansion in the yew-tree berries.
They sat there talking after tea was done,
And Jimmy blushed at Anna's sparkling looks,
And Anna flattered mother on her son,
Catching both fishes on her subtle hooks. ”

“ And all the time fate had his end prepared.
One thing alone made life not perfect sweet:
The mother's daily fear of what would come
When woman and her lovely boy should meet,
When the new wife would break up the old home.
Fear of that unborn evil struck her dumb,
And when her darling and a woman met,
She shook and prayed, 'Not her, O God; not yet.'
'Not yet, dear God, my Jimmy go from me.'
Then she would subtly question with her son.
'Not very handsome, I don't think her be?'
'God help the man who marries such an one.'
Her red eyes peered to spy the mischief done. ”

“ One, with a white face, curses, one implores,
"Anna, for God's sake, let me in again,
Anna, belov'd, I cannot bear the pain."
Like hoovey sheep bleating outside a fold
"Anna, belov'd, I'm in the wind and cold."
I want no men. I'm weary to the soul
Of men like moths about a candle flame,
Of men like flies about a sugar bowl,
Acting alike, and all wanting the same,
My dreamed-of swirl of passion never came,
No man has given me the love I dreamed,
But in the best of each one something gleamed.
If my dear darling were alive, but he... ”

“ Jimmy kicked the hob,
The sacrament of song died in a sob.
Jimmy went out into the night to think
Under the moon so steady in the blue.
The woman's beauty ran in him like drink,
The fear that men had loved her burnt him through;
The fear that even then another knew
All the deep mystery which women make
To hide the inner nothing made him shake.
'Anna, I love you, and I always shall.'
He looked towards Plaister's End beyond Cot Hills. ”

“ Life's a long headache in a noisy street,
Love at the budding looks so very sweet,
Men put such bright disguises on their lust,
And then it all goes crumble into dust.
Jimmy the same, dear, lovely Jimmy, too,
He goes the self-same way the others went:
I shall bring sorrow to those eyes of blue.
He asks the love I'm sure I never meant.
Am I to blame? And all his money spent!
Men make this shutting doors such cruel pain. ”

“ That tune soon change to 'Dear, for Jesus' sake.'
He beat the door for her. She never stirred,
But primming bitter lips before her glass;
Admired her hat as though she hadn't heard,
And tried her front hair parted, and in mass.
She heard her lover's hasty footsteps pass.
'He's gone,' she thought. She crouched below the pane,
And heard him cursing as he tramped the lane.
Rage ran in Jimmy as he tramped the night;
Rage, strongly mingled with a youth's disgust
At finding a beloved woman light,
And all her precious beauty dirty dust ”

“ A pleasant man, an old, old friend of mine.'
'By cripes, then, Anna, drop him, he's a swine.'
'Jimmy,' she said, 'you must have faith in me,
Faith's all the battle in a love like ours.
You must believe, my darling, don't you see
That life to have its sweets must have its sours.
Love isn't always two souls picking flowers.
You must have faith. ”

“ Jimmy blushed scarlet. 'He's a dear,' said she.
Ern walked a step, 'Will you be in to-night?'
She shook her head, 'I doubt if that may be.
Jim, here's a friend who wants to talk to me,
So will you go and come another day?'
'By crimes, I won't!' said Jimmy, 'I shall stay.'
'I thought he bit,' said Ern, and Anna smiled,
And Jimmy saw the smile and watched her face
While all the jealous devils made him wild;
A third in love is always out of place ”

“ Good-evening, ma'am.
I was just telling Jim how well he done,
How proud you must be of so fine a son.'
Old mother blinked, while Jimmy hardly knew
Whether he knew the woman there or not;
But well he knew, if not, he wanted to,
Joy of her beauty ran in him so hot,
Old trembling mother by him was forgot,
While Anna searched the mother's face, to know
Whether she took her for a whore or no.
The woman's maxim, 'Win the woman first,'
Made her be gracious to the withered thing.
'This being in crowds do give one such a thirst,
I wonder if they've tea going at "The King"? ”

“ Ern with his arm round Bessie in the swing.
Ern caught her eye and spat, and cut her dead,
Bessie laughed hardly, in the gipsy way.
Anna, though blind with fury, tossed her head,
Biting her lips until the red was grey,
For bitter moments given, bitter pay,
The time for payment comes, early or late,
No earthly debtor but accounts to Fate.
She turned aside, telling with bitter oaths
What Ern should suffer if he turned agen,
And there was Jimmy stripping off his clothes
Within a little ring of farming men. ”

“ And sit aslant to eye me as I eat,
"You're only wanted here, ma'am, for to-day,
Just for the christ'ning party, for the treat,
Don't ever think I mean to let you stay;
Two's company, three's none, that's what I say."
Life can be bitter to the very bone
When one is poor, and woman, and alone.
'Jimmy,' she said, still doubting, 'Come, my dear,
Let's have our "Binger," 'fore we go to bed,'
And then 'The parson's dog,' she cackled clear,
'Lep over stile,' she sang, nodding her head. ”

“ Good Jimmy. Sick him, Rover,
By dang, but Jimmy's got him fairly over.'
Then there was clap of hands and Jimmy grinned
And took five silver shillings from his backers,
And said th'old tup had put him out of wind
Or else he'd take all comers at the Whackers.
And some made rude remarks of rams and knackers,
And mother shook to get her son alone,
So's to be sure he hadn't broke a bone.
None but the lucky man deserves the fair,
For lucky men have money and success,
Things that a whore is very glad to share,
Or dip, at least, a finger in the mess. ”

“ Sheep on a hill with harebells, hare for dinner.
'Hare.' A slow darkness covered up the sinner.
'But little time is right hand fain of blow.'
Only a second changes life to death;
Hate ends before the pulses cease to go,
There is great power in the stop of breath.
There's too great truth in what the dumb thing saith,
Hate never goes so far as that, nor can. ”

“ And Jimmy gulped, and thought 'By God, you are.'
'Well, if I am, my dear, I don't pretend.
I got my eyes red, Jimmy, making you.
My dear, before our love time's at an end
Think just a minute what it is you do.
If this were right, my dear, you'd tell me true;
You don't, and so it's wrong; you lie; and she
Lies too, or else you wouldn't lie to me.
Women and men have only got one way
And that way's marriage; other ways are lust.
If you must marry this one, then you may,
If not you'll drop her.'
'No.' 'I say you must. ”

“ Perhaps you'd take my arm, we'd wander up
(If you'd agree) and try and get a cup.
Come, ma'am, a cup of tea would do you good;
There's nothing like a nice hot cup of tea
After the crowd and all the time you've stood;
And "The King's" strict, it isn't like "The Key,"
Now, take my arm, my dear, and lean on me.'
And Jimmy's mother, being nearly blind,
Took Anna's arm, and only thought her kind. ”

“ And cheapjacks smashing crocks, and trumpets blowing,
And the loud organ of the horses going.
There you can buy blue ribbons for your girl
Or take her in a swing-boat tossing high,
Or hold her fast when all the horses whirl
Round to the steam pipe whanging at the sky,
Or stand her cockshies at the cocoa-shy,
Or buy her brooches with her name in red,
Or Queen Victoria done in gingerbread.
Then there are rifle shots at tossing balls,
'And if you hit you get a good cigar.'
And strength-whackers for lads to lamm with mauls,
And Cheshire cheeses on a greasy spar. ”

“ And buy her ribbons for her neck, and treat her,
So that no woman at the fair should beat her
In having pleasure at a man's expense.
She planned to meet him at the chapel fence.
So Ernie went; and Jimmy took his mother,
Dressed in her finest with a Monmouth shawl,
And there was such a crowd she thought she'd smother,
And O, she loved a pep'mint above all.
Clash go the crockeries where the cheapjacks bawl,
Baa go the sheep, thud goes the waxwork's drum,
And Ernie cursed for Anna hadn't come.
He hunted for her up and down the place,
Raging and snapping like a working brew. ”

“ If not she's whore, and she shall deal with me.
And may God's blessed mercy help us see
And may He make my Jimmy count the cost,
My little boy who's lost, as I am lost.'
People in love cannot be won by kindness,
And opposition makes them feel like martyrs.
When folk are crazy with a drunken blindness,
It's best to flog them with each other's garters,
And have the flogging done by Shropshire carters,
Born under Ercall where the while stones lie ”

“ Don't lie to mother, boy, for mother knows.
I know you and that lady to the bone,
And she's a whore, that thing you call a rose,
A whore who takes whatever male thing goes;
A harlot with the devil's skill to tell
The special key of each man's door to hell.'
'She's not. ”

“ He knows the art of phrasing; he has the instinct for and by them."--Athenaeum.
"The talk of Pompey, of Domitius, of Acilius, is not that of great lords, but rather of men like Hawkins and Drake. This is the result of Mr Masefield's imaginative handling. He sees them so, and so they live. They live indeed. Their characters are clear and bold; they say nothing but what reveals them and helps to make the tragedy a rich as well as a moving thing. ”

“ The labourers going to meadow see her there.
Rubbing the sleep out of their heavy eyes,
They lean upon the parapet to stare;
They see her plaiting basil in her hair,
Basil, the dark red wound-wort, cops of clover,
The blue self-heal and golden Jacks of Dover. ”

“ Have you been running far?
I'm just going out; come up the road a pace.
O dear, these hens; they're all about the place.'
So Jimmy shooed the hens at her command,
And got outside the gate as she had planned.
'Anna, my dear, I love you; love you, true;
I had to come--I don't know--I can't rest--
I lay awake all night, thinking of you.
Many must love you, but I love you best.'
'Many have loved me, yes, dear,' she confessed,
She smiled upon him with a tender pride,
'But my love ended when my husband died.
Still, we'll be friends, dear friends, dear, tender friends ”

“ The characters are intensely alive, the situations are handled by a master hand, and the whole play is pregnant with that high and solemn pathos which is the gift of the born writer of tragedies."--Morning Post. ”

“ The mauls knock out the pins, the last flare sputters.
'Lower away.' 'Go easy.' 'Lower, lower.'
'You've dang near knock my skull in. Loose it slower.'
'Back in the horses.' 'Are the swing-boats loaded?'
'All right to start.' 'Bill, where's the cushion gone?
The red one for the Queen?' 'I think I stowed it.'
'You think, you think. Lord, where's that cushion, John?'
'It's in that bloody box you're sitting on,
What more d'you want?' A concertina plays
Far off as wandering lovers go their ways. ”

“ This is probably the most important addition to English religious poetry since Francis Thompson wrote 'The Hound of Heaven.' 'The Everlasting Mercy' is the story of a conversion; not the 'interesting' conversion of some cultured and introspective Agnostic, full of wise saws and modern instances, but the sensational, primitive, catastrophic conversion of a village wastrel, violent alike in body, mind and soul--a drunkard, poacher, bully and libertine.... In it Mr Masefield has accomplished two separate things. ”

“ It makes the reader think; it goads him to emotion; and it leaves him alive with a fresh appreciation of the wonderful capacity of human nature to receive new influences and atone for old and apparently ineradicable wrongs."--ARTHUR WAUGH in The Daily Chronicle.
JOHN MASEFIELD
THE TRAGEDY OF POMPEY THE GREAT
Library Edition, 3s. 6d. net; paper wrappers, 1s. 6d. net
Second Impression
"Fine, nervous, dramatic English. Words which eat into the soul, which have a meaning, which are revelatory of character. A fine virility about the whole play and its conception. ”