I never thought I should come back and ask ye now for more. Grandmither, gie me your still white hands that lie upon your breast, 15 For mine do beat the dark all night and never find me rest; They grope among the shadows an' they beat the cold black air, They go seekin' in the darkness, an' they never find him there, They never find him there. Grandmither, gie me your sightless eyes, that I may never see 20 His own a-burnin' full o' love that must not shine for me. Grandmither, gie me your peaceful lips, white as the kirkyard snow, For mine be tremblin' wi' the wish that he must never know. Grandmither, gie me your clay-stopped ears, that I may never hear My lad a-singin' in the night when I am sick wi fear; A-singin' when the moonlight over a' the land is white 25 Ah, God! I'll up and go to him, a-singin' in the night, A-callin' in the night. Grandmither, gie me your clay-cold heart, that has forgot to ache, For mine be fire wi'in my breast an' yet it cannot break. Wi' every beat it's callin' for things that must not be, 30 So can ye not let me creep in an' rest awhile by ye? A little lass afeard o' dark slept by ye years agoneAn' she has found what night can hold 'twixt sunset an' the dawn: So when I plant the rose an' rue above your grave for ye, Ye'll know it's under rue an' rose that I would like to be, That I would like to be. 35 Willa Sibert Cather. HAROLD BEFORE SENLAC* THE TRAGEDY OF A PATRIOT BROTHER, you marvel why I sit alone, 10 *Used by arrangement with the publishers, John Lane, the Bodley Head, Ltd. And dead foes on the slope shall fraternise; 20 25 30 Then shall this people feel for the furthest seas, Nor here alone shall England prosper; she 45 50 Shall loose my knees, or make this heart to quail. I will not fall without much Norman blood, I will not pass alone, but with me I Will take great company into the dark. 55 60 Now pass we through our lines, ere the light warns. SOULS* Stephen Phillips. MY SOUL goes clad in gorgeous things, Scarlet and gold and blue; And at her shoulder sudden wings And she is swallow-fleet, and free Used by permission of the author and the publisher, The Macmillan Company. She laughs, because Eternity Blossoms for her with stars! O folk who scorn my stiff gray gown, Can ye not see my Soul flash down, And folk, whose earth-stained looks I hate, Why may I not divine Your Souls, that must be passionate, Shining and swift, as mine! 8 16 Fannie Stearns Davis. THE HAPPIEST HEART WHO drives the horses of the sun The rust will find the sword of fame, The happiest heart that ever beat Was in some quiet breast That found the common daylight sweet, And left to Heaven the rest. John Vance Cheney. 12 |