Smoke from This Altar (1990) Page 4

  *

  RAIN

  Wind on the roofClouds in the sky,

  Close by the fire Contented and dry; Sitting and dreaming Of journeys afar, Under the sun

  Or under a star.

  Loafing alone

  And watching the rain Beating itself

  On the window-pane Dreaming all night

  Of sun coming soon And listening to rain Singing of June.

  *

  MUTATION

  A fog is on the lowlands

  In drifting, ghostly wraiths, The tops of trees like islands Or spires of vanished faiths;

  There’s silence on the river Like that of brooding death Where blades of swamp-grass shiver

  In the slightest stealing breath.

  There’s something in the morning. A hint of changing days There’s freshness all adorning

  Along the woodland ways;

  The pastel shades

  of May-time

  Will come and disappear Between the dawn and day-time And summer will be here.

  *

  TO ONE WITHOUT FAITH

  What shall I say of you in future years,

  When at the bar of judgment memory stands? What of the hope I built on shifting sands Of love too weak to bear your faithless fears? What shall I say of youth and bitter tears,

  Of words that struck my brain like burning brands? What shall I say of cold remorseless hands

  That ground my lover’s hopes like meshing gears? Where once my heart held naught but love for you And d

  reams of days we spent in ecstasy,

  Or vagrant thoughts of vanished hours we knew There now are ashes of your loyalty; What shall I say when asked if you were true, When faced with facts of your inconstancy?

  *

  ROSE OF MEMORY

  I turned the leaves of an ancient book A book that was faded and worn And there ‘tween

  the leaves I found a rose,

  A tiny rose, and a thorn.

  Where are the lips that kissed that rose And the hands so soft and white, That gave to me that rose of love, The love we pledged that night?

  Long since those days have passed away, And we have drifted apart, The blood-red rose has faded now

  But the thorn rests deep in my heart.

  *

  I LET ME FORGET

  Let me forget the dark seas rolling, The taste of wind, the lure and lift Of far, blue shrouded shores;

  No longer let the wild wind’s singing Build high the waves in this My heart’s own storm;

  Now let me quietly work, for I have songs.

  Let not my blood beat answer to the sea The beaches lie alone, so let them lie; Let me forget the gray banked distant hills, The echoing emptiness of ancient towns; No longer let the brown leaves falling

  Move me to wander … I have songs to sing.