The sister of the weary heart, The bright-winged bird, the bird of fire, Flew onwards swiftly, and apart, Towards the heart’s desire. _The Singer’s Journey_ I On the closed door I knocked and knocked again. It was so cold without: the wind and rain Buffeted me, and made me sick and sore, And no birds sang, and night came on, and o’er The surging wind rose pitiful sad cries From all the souls cast out of Paradise ... On the closed door I knocked and knocked again Till I grew tired with bitterness and pain. I made no fine resolve, I shed no tear: I knew that God was good, that she was dear, Only I wondered why these things had been, Why I was glad I loved, that she had seen. She was too pure to care, perhaps too cold, So, in the wilderness I should grow old, With but the memory of her wide grave eyes To comfort me, shut out from Paradise. On the closed door I knocked and knocked again, And suddenly it opened on a chain And I peered close, and, eager, looked inside— Then turned me to the world that waited, wide: ’Twas not for pride I suffered, not for sin; I was barred out to let a loved one in. II And so from Paradise I turned my feet, And the earth claimed me, and I ran to meet The salutation of the wind and rain, That swept across a desolate, sad plain. Then called the mountains and the grassy hills, Broad seas and rivers, and small tinkling rills: And there were forests wonderful and dark, And when the shrill wind ceased, sweet sang the lark, And I forgot lost love, in pleasant places, For I found other heavens, and sweeter faces Smiled from the lake, or laughed behind the reeds; —But in the night the heart that’s stricken bleeds. Then once at dawn-time, by a quiet pool, A goat-legged fellow cried: “Come hither, fool, And learn the tune that makes the world roll round: Life, lust and laughter mingle in the sound: ’Twas made with longing and with tears and fire, But laughter conquered it, and mocked desire.” And then he took his pipe, this goat-legged man, And all the winds cried: “Hark, the song of Pan: Pan who is god of flocks and herds, who dwells Deep in the woods a-weaving curious spells And tunes that sob for joy, that thrill and weep— That charm to laughter and that soothe to sleep.” III