Shall bear us company to-night,

For we have reached the Oldest Land
Wherein the powers of Darkness range.

In the House of Suddhoo.

To-night, God knows what thing shall tide,
The Earth is racked and fain-

Expectant, sleepless, open-eyed;

And we, who from the Earth were made,

Thrill with our Mother's pain.

False Dawn.

Pit where the buffalo cooled his hide,

By the hot sun emptied, and blistered and dried;
Log in the plume-grass, hidden and lone;

Bund where the earth-rat's mounds are strown;
Cave in the bank where the sly stream steals;
Aloe that stabs at the belly and heels,
Jump if you dare on a steed untried-
Safer it is to go wide-go wide!

Hark, from in front where the best men ridè;-
"Pull to the off, boys! Wide! Go wide!"

Cupid's Arrows.

He drank strong waters and his speech was coarse;
He purchased raiment and forbore to pay;
He stuck a trusting junior with a horse,
And won gymkhanas in a doubtful way.
Then, 'twixt a vice and folly, turned aside

To do good deeds and straight to cloak them, lied.

A Bank Fraud

COLD IRON

GOLD is for the mistress-silver for the maid—
Copper for the craftsman cunning at his trade."
"Good!" said the Baron, sitting in his hall,
"But Iron-Cold Iron-is master of them all."

So he made rebellion 'gainst the King his liege,
Camped before his citadel and summoned it to siege.
"Nay!" said the cannoneer on the castle wall,
"But Iron-Cold Iron-shall be master of you all!"

Woe for the Baron and his knights so strong,
When the cruel cannon-balls laid 'em all along;
He was taken prisoner, he was cast in thrall,
And Iron-Cold Iron-was master of it all!

Yet his King spake kindly (ah, how kind a Lord!) "What if I release thee now and give thee back thy sword?" "Nay!" said the Baron, "mock not at my fall, For Iron-Cold Iron-is master of men all."

“Tears are for the craven, prayers are for the clown—
Halters for the silly neck that cannot keep a crown."
"As my loss is grievous, so my hope is small,
For Iron-Cold Iron-must be master of men all!"

Yet his King made answer (few such Kings there be!)
"Here is Bread and here is Wine-sit and sup with me.
Eat and drink in Mary's Name, the whiles I do recall
How Iron-Cold Iron-can be master of men all!"

He took the Wine and blessed it. He blessed and brake the Bread,

With His own Hands He served Them, and presently He

"See! These Hands they pierced with nails, outside My city wall,

Show Iron-Cold Iron-to be master of men all:

"Wounds are for the desperate, blows are for the strong. Balm and oil for weary hearts all cut and bruised with wrong. I forgive thy treason-I redeem thy fall

For Iron-Cold Iron-must be master of men all!"

"Crowns are for the valiant-sceptres for the bold! Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold." "Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall, "But Iron-Cold Iron-is master of men all! Iron out of Calvary is master of men all!"

A SONG OF KABIR

OH, LIGHT was the world that he weighed in his hands!
Oh, heavy the tale of his fiefs and his lands!

He has gone from the guddee and put on the shroud,
And departed in guise of bairagi1 avowed!

Now the white road to Delhi is mat for his feet.
The sal and the kikar2 must guard him from heat.
His home is the camp, and the waste, and the crowd-
He is seeking the Way as bairagi avowed!

He has looked upon Man, and his eyeballs are clear-
(There was One; there is One, and but One, saith Kabir);
The Red Mist of Doing has thinned to a cloud—
He has taken the Path for bairagi avowed!

To learn and discern of his brother the clod,
Of his brother the brute, and his brother the God,
He has gone from the council and put on the shroud
("Can ye hear?" saith Kabir), a bairagi avowed!

'Wandering holy man.

Wayside trees.

A CAROL

OUR Lord Who did the Ox command
To kneel to Judah's King,

He binds His frost upon the land
To ripen it for Spring-

To ripen it for Spring, good sirs,
According to His Word.

Which well must be as ye can see-
And who shall judge the Lord?

When we poor fenmen skate the ice
Or shiver on the wold,

We hear the cry of a single tree

That breaks her heart in the cold-
That breaks her heart in the cold, good sirs,
And rendeth by the board.

Which well must be as ye can see―
And who shall judge the Lord?

Her wood is crazed and little worth
Excepting as to burn,

That we may warm and make our mirth
Until the Spring return—

Until the Spring return, good sirs,
When Christians walk abroad;

Which well must be as ye can see—
And who shall judge the Lord?

God bless the master of this house,
And all who sleep therein!
And guard the fens from pirate folk,
And keep us all from sin,

To walk in honesty, good sirs,
Of thought and deed and word!
Which shall befriend our latter end.
And who shall judge the Lord?

"MY NEW-CUT ASHLAR”

MY NEW-CUT ashlar takes the light

Where crimson-blank the windows flare.

By my own work before the night,
Great Overseer, I make my prayer.

If there be good in that I wrought
Thy Hand compelled it, Master, Thine-
Where I have failed to meet Thy Thought
I know, through Thee, the blame was mine.

The depth and dream of my desire,
The bitter paths wherein I stray-
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,
Thou knowest Who hast made, the Clay.

Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,
Bring'st Eden to the craftsman's brain-
Godlike to muse o'er his own Trade
And manlike stand with God again!

One stone the more swings into place
In that dread Temple of Thy worth.
It is enough that, through Thy Grace,
I saw nought common on Thy Earth.

Take not that vision from my ken-
Oh whatsoe'er may spoil or speed.
Help me to need no aid from men
That I may help such men as need!