The Poems of Alice Meynell

								

And in the sweetest passage of a song.


O just beyond the fairest thoughts that throng

    This breast, the thought of thee waits, hidden yet bright;

    But it must never, never come in sight;
I must stop short of thee the whole day long.


But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,

    When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,

      And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,


Must doff my will as raiment laid away,--

    With the first dream that comes with the first sleep

      I run, I run, I am gathered to thy heart.

  TO A DAISY


Slight as thou art, thou art enough to hide

    Like all created things, secrets from me,
And stand a barrier to eternity.
And I, how can I praise thee well and wide


From where I dwell--upon the hither side?

    Thou little veil for so great mystery,

    When shall I penetrate all things and thee,
And then look back?  For this I must abide,


Till thou shalt grow and fold and be unfurled
Literally between me and the world.

    Then I shall drink from in beneath a spring,


And from a poet's side shall read his book.

    O daisy mine, what will it be to look

      From God's side even of such a simple thing?

  SAN LORENZO'S MOTHER


I had not seen my son's dear face
(He chose the cloister by God's grace)

    Since it had come to full flower-time.

    I hardly guessed at its perfect prime,
That folded flower of his dear face.


Mine eyes were veiled by mists of tears
When on a day in many years

    One of his Order came.  I thrilled,

    Facing, I thought, that face fulfilled.
I doubted, for my mists of tears.


His blessing be with me for ever!
My hope and doubt were hard to sever.

    --That altered face, those holy weeds.

    I filled his wallet and kissed his beads,
And lost his echoing feet for ever.


If to my son my alms were given
I know not, and I wait for Heaven.

    He did not plead for child of mine,

    But for another Child divine,
And unto Him it was surely given.


There is One alone who cannot change;
Dreams are we, shadows, visions strange;

    And all I give is given to One.

    I might mistake my dearest son,
But never the Son who cannot change.

  THE LOVER URGES THE BETTER THRIFT


My Fair, no beauty of thine will last

    Save in my love's eternity.

    Thy smiles, that light thee fitfully,
Are lost for ever--their moment past--

    Except the few thou givest to me.


Thy sweet words vanish day by day,

    As all breath of mortality;

    Thy laughter, done, must cease to be,
And all thy dear tones pass away,

    Except the few that sing to me.


Hide then within my heart, O hide

    All thou art loth should go from thee.

    Be kinder to thyself and me.
My cupful from this river's tide

    Shall never reach the long sad sea.

  CRADLE-SONG AT TWILIGHT


The child not yet is lulled to rest.