Collected Works (Vol. III)

116 ODIN IN RIME Swift clasp of Rodin’s magical mind love- witted, See all creation fade; abide, one kiss. Then to my own soul’s bow this shaft be fitted ; Thank God for all, seeing that all is this ! RESURRECTION. FRomM youth and love to sorrow is one stride. So to the thinker; to the lover’s self Rather it glides or swoons ; the idle elf That plucks a rose, scatters its petals wide, Is like the wind, is like the moon-wrought tide, Is most like life: so soft to man, so hard To the all-gathering brain of a great bard| Christ answered: Peace to man amid the strife | I am the Resurrection and the Life. Let the graves open: see the woman grip Her goodly love, her gainful fellowship ! - See the man, hungry, grasp the willing bride, Grope through the dark dawn to her glow- ing side! There is the resurrection trump: confess The mystery of life is happiness ! Rodin discerned. We see the eagle-eyed Glory of echoing kisses ; hear the sound Of glutted raptures break in the profound, The abyss of time: upsurge the dead. Why hide Thy sorrowful god’s brow, O sculptor, mage, Child of eternity, father of an age? Thou hast seen, thou hast showed, that as it was on earth So shall it be in resurrection birth. The cycle of weariness and passionate pain Is and was ever and must be again. There is no death! Ah! that is misery ! For this, Lord Christ, is it that thou wouldst be, Thou yesterday, to-day, and thou to-morrow ? The mystery of this our life is sorrow. LYETERNEL PRINTEMPS. I. THE eternal spring is in the heart of youth. | They are nearest to the secret of the world, These lovers with their lithe white bodies curled Into the rhythm of a dance; the truth Is theirs that feel, not ours that idly see ; Theirs that inhabit, and not ours that flee The intimate touch of love and think to sleuth By intellect all the scent of being, whirled In the wheel of time—roll back, slow years, and be A monument, a memory for me; That I may in their passion have a part, And feel their glory glow within my heart ! II. This holy rapture is the eternal spring. Here in the love that tunes the untrammelled feet, Here in the ardour of the arms that cling, The alluring amber-touch of sweet to sweet, The ageless awe of the new love revealed, The reverence of the new love hovering nigh ; These things are mazes flowery on the field, Measures to trace a-dancing by-and-by. Here in the statued pose the rhythm is sealed That all who are human dance to evermore. Before this ecstasy all ages yield: Eternity breaks foamless on time’s shore, And I, because of this delight in me, Am one in substance with eternity. ACROBATES My little lady light o’ limb Twirls on her lover’s twisting toes- Lithe as a lynx, red as a rose, She spins aloft and laughs at him. So gay the pose, so quaint the whim, One stares and stares: it grows and grows,