When, by a happier race, these leaves are turned, They’ll wonder that such quiet themes engaged A soldier’s mind when noisy wars were waged, And half the world in one red bonfire burned. ’When that fierce age,’ they’ll say, ’went up in flame He lived ... or died, seeing those bright deeds done Whereby our sweet and settled peace was won, Yet offereth slender dreams, not deeds, to Fame.’ Then say: ’Out of the heart the mouth speaketh, And mine was as the hearts of other men Whom those dark days impassioned; yet it seeketh To paint the sombre woes that held us then, No more than the cloud-rending levin’s light Seeks to illumine the sad skies of night.’ INVOCATION Whither, O, my sweet mistress, must I follow thee? For when I hear thy distant footfall nearing, And wait on thy appearing, Lo! my lips are silent: no words come to me. Once I waylaid thee in green forest covers, Hoping that spring might free my lips with gentle fingers; Alas! her presence lingers No longer than on the plain the shadow of brown kestrel hovers. Through windless ways of the night my spirit followed after;-- Cold and remote were they, and there, possessed By a strange unworldly rest, Awaiting thy still voice heard only starry laughter. The pillared halls of sleep echoed my ghostly tread. Yet when their secret chambers I essayed My spirit sank, dismayed, Waking in fear to find the new-born vision fled. Once indeed--but then my spirit bloomed in leafy rapture-- I loved; and once I looked death in the eyes: So, suddenly made wise, Spoke of such beauty as I may never recapture.... Whither, O, divine mistress, must I then follow thee? Is it only in love ... say, is it only in death That the spirit blossometh, And words that may match my vision shall come to me? THAMAR (_To Thamar Karsavina_)