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"I hear the summer storm outblown-the drip of the grateful wheat.

I hear the hard trail telephone a far-off horse's feet.

I hear the horns of Autumn blow to the wild-fowl overhead; And I hear the hush before the snow. And what is that to dread?"

"Take heed what spell the lightning weaves-what charm the echoes shape

Or, bound among a million sheaves, your soul shall not escape. Bar home the door of summer nights lest those high planets drown

The memory of near delights in all the longed-for town."

"What need have I to long or fear? Now, friendly, I behold My faithful seasons robe the year in silver and in gold. Now I possess and am possessed of the land where I would be, And the curve of half Earth's generous breast shall soothe and ravish me!"


"BLESSED be the English and all their ways and works. Cursed be the Infidels, Hereticks, and Turks!". "Amen," quo' Jobson, "but where I used to lie Was neither Candle, Bell nor Book to curse my brethren bys

"But a palm-tree in full bearing, bowing down, bowing down,
To a surf that drove unsparing at the brown, walled town-
Conches in a temple, oil-lamps in a dome-
And a low moon out of Africa said: "This way home!""

"Blessed be the English and all that they profess. Cursed be the Savages that prance in nakedness!" "Amen," quo' Jobson, "but where I used to lie Was neither shirt nor pantaloons to catch my brethren by:

"But a well-wheel slowly creaking, going round, going round,
By a water-channel leaking over drowned, warm ground—
Parrots very busy in the trellised pepper-vine-
And a high sun over Asia shouting: Rise and shine!"

"Blessed be the English and everything they own. Cursed be the Infidels that bow to wood and stone!" "Amen," quo' Jobson, "but where I used to lie Was neither pew nor Gospelleer to save my brethren by:

"But a desert stretched and stricken, left and right, left and right,

Where the piled mirages thicken under white-hot lightA skull beneath a sand-hill and a viper coiled inside And a red wind out of Libya roaring: 'Run and hide!""

"Blessed be the English and all they make or do.
Cursed be the Hereticks who doubt that this is true!"
"Amen," quo' Jobson, "but where I mean to die
Is neither rule nor calliper to judge the matter by:

"But Himalaya heavenward-heading, sheer and vast, sheer

and vast,

In a million summits bedding on the last world's past—
A certain sacred mountain where the scented cedars climb,
And-the feet of my Beloved hurrying back through Time!"



LOOK, you have cast out Love! What Gods are these
You bid me please?

The Three in One, the One in Three? Not so!
To my own Gods I go.

It may be they shall give me greater ease
Than your cold Christ and tangled Trinities.

When the earth was sick and the skies were grey,
And the woods were rotted with rain,
The Dead Man rode through the autumn day
To visit his love again.

His love she neither saw nor heard,

So heavy was her shame;

And tho' the babe within her stirred
She knew not that he came.

Cry "Murder" in the market-place, and each
Will turn upon his neighbour anxious eyes
Asking: "Art thou the man?" We hunted Cain
Some centuries ago across the world.
This bred the fear our own misdeeds maintain


Go, stalk the red deer o'er the heather,
Ride, follow the fox if you can!
But, for pleasure and profit together,


The Other Man.

His Wedded Wife.

Allow me the hunting of Man

The chase of the Human, the search for the Soul
To its ruin the hunting of Man.

"Stopped in the straight when the race was his own
Look at him cutting it-cur to the bone!"
Ask ere the youngster be rated and chidden
What did he carry and how was he ridden?
Maybe they used him too much at the start.
Maybe Fate's weight-cloths are breaking his heart.
In the Pride of his Youth.

"And some are sulky, while some will plunge.
(So ho! Steady! Stand still, you !)
Some you must gentle, and some you must lunge.
(There! There! Who wants to kill you ?)
Some there are losses in every trade-
Will break their hearts ere bitted and made,
Will fight like fiends as the rope cuts hard,
And die dumb-mad in the breaking-yard."

The World hath set its heavy yoke
Upon the old white-bearded folk
Who strive to please the King.
God's mercy is upon the young,
God's wisdom in the baby tongue
That fears not anything.


Thrown Away.

Tod's Amendment.

Not though you die to-night, O Sweet, and wail,
A spectre at my door,

Shall mortal Fear make Love immortal fail-
I shall but love you more,

Who, from Death's House returning, give me still
One moment's comfort in my matchless ill.

By Word of Mouth.

They burnt a corpse upon the sand—
The light shone out afar;

It guided home the plunging dhows
That beat from Zanzibar.
Spirit of Fire, where'er Thy altars rise,
Thou art the Light of Guidance to our eyes!

Ride with an idle whip, ride with an unused heel,
But, once in a way, there will come a day

When the colt must be taught to feel

The lash that falls, and the curb that galls, and the sting of

the rowelled steel.

It was not in the open fight
We threw away the sword,
But in the lonely watching
In the darkness by the ford.
The waters lapped, the night-wind blew,
Full-armed the Fear was born and grew,
And we were flying ere we knew
From panic in the night.

In Error.

The Conversion of Aurelian McGoggin.

The Rout of the White Hussars.

A stone's throw out on either hand
From that well-ordered road we tread,
And all the world is wild and strange;
Churl and ghoul and Djinn and sprite

In the daytime, when she moved about me,
In the night, when she was sleeping at my side,—
I was wearied, I was wearied of her presence.
Day by day and night by night I grew to hate her—
Would God that she or I had died!

The Bronckhorst Divorce Case.

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