CONTENTS PAGE THE CHOOSERS I SACRIFICE 3 RELIEVED 5 REACTION . . . . 6 THE OLD CALVARY .... 9 THE GUNS . . . . .10 THE SIGN...... 12 A SHELL 14 THE FACE . . . . .15 WIND l6 BOIS DE MAMETZ . . . . l8 THE TRENCHES . . . . .22 LEAVES . . . . .25 TRANSPORT . . . . . 27 avTapxeia . . . . .29 EPIGRAM, R. B 3 NOW . . . . . .32 GROTESQUE . . . . -35 DESIRE 36 BLUE AND GOLD . . . .38 vii viii CONTENTS MM GANHARDINES SONG . . . -39 THE SOULS ANSWER . . . . 41 WINTER ...... 42 THE FAUN 43 THE CUP 44 PAROLES SANS MUSIQUE . . -45 DANAE ... . .. -47 WORSHIP . . , . , . 49 TO A GIRL . . . .50 EROS ATHANATOS . . . -52 DEMETER MOURNING . , . -54 THE LOST ANGEL . . ... . 57 THE MOCKING SONG . . . -59 THE MOTHER . . . . . 63 MEDITATION . . . . 65 THE HONEY GATHERER CROCUS SONG . . . .,, . 67 -7 THE IMAGE SELLER . . . , . -72 SIMAETHA 74 TO THE UNKNOWN GODDESS . . 76 HURLEYWAYNE . . . . -78 TO SAI THE SHEPHERDS CAROL OF BETHLEHEM 82 PAST . . . . . -85 THE BELOVED . . . .86 80 O YE EIDOLA THE CHOOSERS Fragile, tremulous Haunters of the deep glades, Whose fingers part the leaves Of beech and aspen ere ye slip thro, Shall I see ye again Men have said untome These are but flying lights and shadows, Light on the beech-boles, clouds shadowing the corn-fields, The wind in the flame of birches in autumn, Wind shadowing the clear pools. But ye cried, laughing, down the wind Men are but shadows, but a vain breath I So here cometh untome That cry from the rejoicing air Men are but shadows And prone aboutme I see them, hushed and sleeping in the hut, Made solemn and holy by the night, In the dead light o the moon Shadowy, swathed in their blankets, As sleep, in hewn sepulchral caves, Egypts and Asias kings. While between them are the footsteps Of glittering presences, who say Lo, one To be a sword upon my thigh And the sleepers stir restlessly and murmur As between them pass The bright-mailed choosers of the dead. Shall I see ye again, O flying feet O the forest-haunters, while I couch silent, In a wet brake o blossom, Dark ivy wreathing your whiteness Ere I am torn from the scabbard Lo, one To be a sword uponmy thigh Knowing no longer that earth Lieth in the dews, shining and sacred suffereth all things. And we, Out of the travail and pain of our striving, Bring unto thee the perfect prayer For the heart of no man uttereth love, Suffering even for loves sake. For us no splendid apparel of pageantry, Burnished breast-plates, scarlet banners and trumpets Sounding exultantly. But the mean things of the earth hast thou chosen, Decked them with suffering, Made them beautiful with the passion for Tightness, Strong with the pride of love. Yea, tho our praise of thee slayeth us, Yet love shall exalt usbesidethee triumphant, --This text refers to an alternate Paperback edition.