Twenty by Stella Benson (uplifting book club books TXT) 📕

PREFACE


Almost all the verses in this book have appeared before, the majority of them included in two books, _I Pose_ and _This is the End_. Messrs. Macmillan, who published these, have been kind in raising no objection to re-publication. I have also to thank the Editors of the _Athenaeum, Everyman_, and the _Pall Mall Gazette_ for allowing me to reprint verses.

The title of the book has no reference to the writer's age.

S.B.


CONTENTS

CHRISTMAS, 1917
THE SECRET DAY
SONG
THE ORCHARD
THANKS TO MY WORLD FOR THE LOAN OF A FAIR DAY
SONG
WORDS
REDNECK'S SONG
TO THE UNBORN
THE NEWER ZION
TWO WOMEN SING
THE WOMAN ALONE
THE INEVITABLE
THE DOG TUPMAN
SAINT BRIDE
THE SLAVE OF GOD
TRUE PROMISES
THE CORNISHMAN
FIVE SMOOTH STONES
NEW YEAR, 1918

CHRISTMAS, 1917

A key no thief can steal, no time can rust;
A faery door, adventurous and golden;
A palace, perfect to our eyes--Ah must
Our eyes be holden?

Has the past died before this present sin?
Has this most cruel age already stoned
To martyrdom that magic Day, within
Those halls, enthroned?

No. Through the dancing of the young spring rain,
Through the faint summer, and the autumn's burning,
Our still immortal Day has heard again
Our steps returning.




THE SECRET DAY

My yesterday has gone, has gone and left me tired,
And now to-morrow comes and beats upon the door;
So I have built To-day, the day that I desired,
Lest joy come not again, lest peace return no more,
Lest comfort come no more.

So I have built To-day, a proud and perfect day,
And I have built the towers of cliffs upon the sands;
The foxgloves and the gorse I planted on my way;
The thyme, the velvet thyme, grew up beneath my hands,
Grew pink beneath my hands.

So I have built To-day, more precious than a dream;
And I have painted peace upon the sky above;
And I have made immense and misty seas, that seem
More kind to me than life, more fair to me than love--
More beautiful than love.

And I have built a house--a house upon the brink
Of high and twisted cliffs; the sea's low singing fills it;
And there my Secret Friend abides, and there I think
I'll hide my heart away before to-morrow kills it--
A cold to-morrow kills it.

Yes, I have built To-day, a wall against To-morrow,
So let To-morrow knock--I shall not be afraid,
For none shall give me death, and none shall give me sorrow,
And none shall spoil this darling day that I have made.
No storm shall stir my sea. No night but mine shall shade
This day that I have made.




SONG

There is the track my feet have worn
By which my fate may find me:
From that dim place where I was born
Those footprints run behind me.
Uncertain was the trail I left,
For--oh, the way was stormy;
But now this splendid sea has cleft
My journey from before me.

Three things the sea shall never end,
Three things shall mock its power:
My singing soul, my Secret Friend,
And this, my perfect hour.
And you shall seek me till you reach
The tangled tide advancing,
And you shall find upon the beach
The traces of my dancing,
And in the air the happy speech
Of Secret Friends romancing.



THE ORCHARD

I will repent me of my ways;
I will come here and bury
Five thousand odd superfluous days
Beneath a flow'ring cherry.

Between a pear and a cherry tree
My temple I will enter--
My place, where even I may be
The altar and the centre.

One altar to a thousand aisles,
A hundred thousand arches ...
The loud lamb-choir about me files,
The bleating bishop marches,

The congregation kneels and nods,
The bishop leads its praises,
So I'll pray too, to their dim gods
Whose feet are decked with daisies:

_Ah, let me not grow old. Ah, let
Me not grow old, and falter
In my delusion, or forget
My heart was once an altar.
Let me still think myself a star
With these my rays about me;
Pretend these green perspectives are
All purposeless without me._

_Ah, bid the sun stand still. Ah, bid
The coming night retire,
And all the good I ever did
Shall feed your altar fire;
The hour shall stand and sing your praise,
The minute shall adore you,
And my ten thousand unborn days
I'll sacrifice before you._

_Gods of great joy, and little grief,
See--I will wear as token
A pear leaf and a cherry leaf
Until this pledge be broken_....

Between a pear and a cherry tree
A cold hand touched my shoulder--
_Ah, my false gods have forsaken me,
I am a minute older_.




THANKS TO MY WORLD FOR THE LOAN OF A FAIR DAY

That day you wrought for me
Shone, and was ended.
Perfect your thought for me,
Whom you befriended.
Such joy was new to me--
New, and most splendid,
More than was due to me.
More than was due to me.

Though I do wrong to you,
Having no power,
Singing no song to you,
Bringing no flower,
Yet does my youth again
Thrill, for the hour
Cometh in truth again.
Cometh in truth again.

I shall possess to-day
All I have wanted,
All I lacked yesterday
Now shall be granted.
No longer dumb to you,
Changed and enchanted,
Singing I'll come to you.
Singing I'll come to you.

I will amass for you
Very great treasure.
Swift years shall pass for you
Dancing for pleasure.
Time shall be slave to me,
Giving--full measure--
All that you gave to me.
All that you gave to me.



SONG

If I have dared to surrender some imitation of splendour,
Something I knew that was tender, something I loved that was brave,
If in my singing I showed songs that I heard on my road,
Were they not debts that I owed, rather than gifts that I gave?

If certain hours on their climb up the long ladder of time
Turned my confusion to rhyme, drove me to dare an attempt,
If by fair chance I might seem sometimes abreast of my theme,
Was I translating a dream? Was it a dream that you dreamt?

High and miraculous skies bless and astonish my eyes;
All my dead secrets arise, all my dead stories come true.
Here is the Gate to the Sea. Once you unlocked it for me;
Now, since you gave me the key, shall I unlock it for you?




WORDS

Oh words, oh words, and shall you rule
The world? What is it but the tongue
That doth proclaim a man a fool,
So that his best songs go unsung,
So that his dreams are sent to school
And all die young.

There pass the trav'lling dreams, and these
My soul adores--my words condemn--
Oh, I would fall upon my knees
To kiss their golden garments' hem,
Yet words do lie in wait to seize
And murder them.

To-night the swinging stars shall plumb
The silence of the sky. And herds
Of plumed winds like huntsmen come
To hunt with dreams the restless birds.
To-night the moon shall strike you dumb,
Oh words, oh words....




REDNECK'S SONG

These thirty years
Old men have filled my ears
With middle-aged ideas
That never have been young,
They made me wise.
I learnt to whitewash lies.
I learnt to shut my eyes,
And hold my tongue.

Damned Philistine.
And was it then so fine
To learn to draw the line.
(Is there a line to draw?)
And must I then
For threescore years and ten
Worship the laws of men
Who worshipped law?

Those laws are dust
To-day, and yet I must
Be faithful still, and trust
In what dead men did prove.
Magic may kill
Their wisdom and their will,
Yet I must follow still
Their path ... my groove....



TO THE UNBORN

Oh, bend your eyes, nor send your glance about.
Oh, watch your feet, nor stray beyond the kerb.
Oh, bind your heart lest it find secrets out.
For thus no punishment
Of magic shall disturb
Your very great content.

Oh, shut your lips to words that are forbidden.
Oh, throw away your sword, nor think to fight.
Seek not the best, the best is better hidden.
Thus need you have no fear,
No terrible delight
Shall cross your path, my dear.