THE FEASTER

Oh, who will hush that cry outside the doors,

While we are glad within?

Go forth, go forth, all you my servitors;

( And gather close, my kin. )

Go out to her. Tell her we keep a feast,—

Lost Loveliness who will not sit her down

Though we implore.

It is her silence binds me unreleased,

It is her silence that no flute can drown,

It is her moonlit silence at the door,

Wide as the whiteness, but a fire on high

That frights my heart with an immortal Cry,

Calling me evermore.

Louder, you viols;— louder, O my harp;

Let me not hear her voice;

And drown her keener silence, silver-sharp,

With waves of golden noise!

For she is wise as Eden, even mute,

To search my spirit through the deep and height

Again, again.

Outpierce her with your singing, dawnlike flute;

And you, gloom over, viols of the night

With colors lost in umber,— with sweet pain

Of richest world's desire,— prevail, sing down

All memory with pleading, so you drown

Her merciless refrain!

Oh, can you not with music, nor with din,

Save me the stress and stir

In my lone spirit, throned among my kin,

From that same voice of her?—

The never ending query she hath had

Only to wake my Soul, and only then

Wake it to weep?

With‘ Why?’ and‘ Art thou happy? Art thou glad?

And hast thou fellowship with fellow-men?’

So, through my mirth and underneath my sleep;

Her voice,— abysmal hunger unfulfilled;—

The calling, calling, never to be stilled,—

Calling of deep to deep.

But I have that shall fill this wound of mine,

Since Loveliness must be;—

Since Loveliness must save us, or we pine

And perish utterly.

All that the years have left us, undismayed

Of age or death; and happier fair than truth,

— When truth is fair!

Shapes of immortal sweetness, to persuade

Iron and fire and marble to their youth;

Wild graces trapped from the three kingdoms’ lair

Of wildest Beauty; shadow and smile and hush;

— Fleet color, of a daybreak, of a blush,

For my sad soul to wear!

Let April fade! For me, unfading bloom!...

The little fruitless seed

Deep sown of fire within the midmost gloom,

A sterner fire to feed:—

The rainbow, frozen in a lasting dew;

Green-gazing emerald, fresh as grass beneath

The placid rose.

Fair pearl, and you, fair pearl, and you and you,

Rained from the moon, and kissing in a wreath,

As moment unto eager moment goes!

Look back at me, you sapphires blue and wise

With farthest twilight, blue resplendent eyes

That never weep, nor close.

O house me, glories! Give me house and home

Here for my homelessness.

Set forth for me the wine, the honeycomb

Whereto desire saith‘ Yes!’

O Senses, weave me from all lovely dust

Some home-array, some fair familiar garb

For me, exiled.

Charm me some rare anointment I may trust

Against her query, searching like a barb

The dumbness of a heart unreconciled.

Clothe me with silver; fold me from dismay;

Save me from pity. For I hear her say,

‘ Alas, Alas, poor child!’

‘ Alas, Alas, thou lost poor child, how long?

Why wilt thou suffer want?

Why must I hear thy weeping through thy song,

And see thine eyes grow gaunt?

Making sad feast upon the crumbs of light

Shed long ago from heavenly highways where

Thy brethren are!

And thy heart smoulders in thee, to be bright,

Thy one sole refuge from thy one despair,

Fraying the thwarted body with a scar.

How long, before thine eyelids, desolate,

How long shall this thy dark dominion wait

For thee, belated Star?’

Belovèd, if the Moon could weep,

Or if the Sun could see

How all these weltering alleys keep

Their outcast treasury!

O bitter, bitter-sweet!—

Beauty of babyhood,—

Earth's wistful uttermost of good

Flung out upon the street;

Fouled, even as the highways would,

With mirk and mire and bruise;

The cheek more petal-fine

Than rose before a shrine!

Those hands like star-fish in the ooze,

And fingers fain to cling

To any stronger thing!

And smiles, for one triumphal Gift,

Should one lean down, and lift!

And tendril hair;— O in such wise,

With wild lights aureoled,

The morning-glories twine and hold,

In some far paradise!

Oh well and deep, the foul ways keep

Lost treasure hid from day!—

Sun may not see: but only we,

Who look; and look away.