Later Poems

								


Transcribed from the 1902 John Lane, The Bodley Head edition by David
Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org

Later Poems

By Alice Meynell
Author of "Poems"
London and New York
John Lane, The Bodley Head
1902
Copyright, 1901
BY JOHN LANE
All rights reserved
UNIVERSITY PRESS--JOHN WILSON
AND SON--CAMBRIDGE, U. S. A.
TO
A. T.

Contents:

The Shepherdess
"I am the Way"
Via, et Veritas, et Vita
Why wilt Thou Chide?
The Lady Poverty
The Fold
Cradle-song at Twilight
The Roaring Frost
Parentage
The Modern Mother
West Wind in Winter
November Blue
Chimes
Unto us a Son is given
A Dead Harvest
The Two Poets
A Poet's Wife
Veneration of Images
At Night

THE SHEPHERDESS

She walks--the lady of my delight--

   A shepherdess of sheep.
Her flocks are thoughts.  She keeps them white;

   She guards them from the steep.
She feeds them on the fragrant height,

   And folds them in for sleep.
She roams maternal hills and bright,

   Dark valleys safe and deep.
Into that tender breast at night

   The chastest stars may peep.
She walks--the lady of my delight--

   A shepherdess of sheep.
She holds her little thoughts in sight,

   Though gay they run and leap.
She is so circumspect and right;

   She has her soul to keep.
She walks--the lady of my delight--

   A shepherdess of sheep.

"I AM THE WAY"

      Thou art the Way.
Hadst Thou been nothing but the goal,

      I cannot say
If Thou hadst ever met my soul.



      I cannot see--
I, child of process--if there lies

      An end for me,
Full of repose, full of replies.



      I'll not reproach
The way that goes, my feet that stir.

      Access, approach,
Art Thou, time, way, and wayfarer.

VIA, ET VERITAS, ET VITA

"You never attained to Him?"  "If to attain

   Be to abide, then that may be."
"Endless the way, followed with how much pain!"

      "The way was He."

"WHY WILT THOU CHIDE?"

   Why wilt thou chide,
Who hast attained to be denied?

   Oh learn, above
All price is my refusal, Love.

   My sacred Nay
Was never cheapened by the way.
Thy single sorrow crowns thee lord
Of an unpurchasable word.



   Oh strong, Oh pure!
As Yea makes happier loves secure,

   I vow thee this
Unique rejection of a kiss.

   I guard for thee
This jealous sad monopoly.
I seal this honour thine.  None dare
Hope for a part in thy despair.

THE LADY POVERTY

The Lady Poverty was fair:
But she has lost her looks of late,
With change of times and change of air.
Ah slattern, she neglects her hair,
Her gown, her shoes.  She keeps no state
As once when her pure feet were bare.
Or--almost worse, if worse can be--
She scolds in parlours; dusts and trims,
Watches and counts.  Oh, is this she
Whom Francis met, whose step was free,
Who with Obedience carolled hymns,
In Umbria walked with Chastity?
Where is her ladyhood?  Not here,
Not among modern kinds of men;