King Rufus he did hunt the deer,
With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly!
It was the spring-time of the year—
Hey ho, Dolly shut her eyes!
King Rufus was a bully boy,
He hunted all the day for joy,
Sweet Dolly she was ever coy:
And who would e'er be wise
That looked in Dolly's eyes?

King Rufus he did have his day,
With a hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly!
So get ye forth where dun deer play—
Hey ho, Dolly comes again!
The greenwood is the place for me,
For that is where the dun deer be,
And who would stay at home,
That might with Dolly roam?
Sing hey ho, come and kiss me, Dolly!

LIFE'S SWEET WAGES

Who would lie down and close his eyes
While yet the lark sings o'er the dale?
Who would to Love make no replies,
Nor drink the nut-brown ale,
While throbs the pulse, and full's the purse
And all the world's for sale?

Though wintry blasts may prove unkind,
When winter's past we do forget;
Love's breast in summer-time is kind,
And all's well while life's with us yet.
Hey ho, now the lark is mating—
Life's sweet wages are in waiting!

TO THE VALLEY

Come hither, oh come hither,
There's a bride upon her bed;
They have strewn her o'er with roses,
There are roses 'neath her head:
Life is love and tears and laughter,
But the laughter it is dead—
Sing the way to the Valley, to the Valley-
Hey, but the roses they are red!

THE LILY FLOWER
Oh, love, it is a lily flower,
(Sing, my captain, sing, my lady!)
The sword shall cleave it, Life shall leave it—
Who shall know the hour?
(Sing, my lady, still!)

LOVE IN HER COLD GRAVE LIES

Love in her cold grave lies,
But that is not my love:
My love hath constant eyes,
My love her life doth prove;
That love, the poorer, dies—
Ah, that is not my love!

Love in her cold grave lies,
But she will wake again;
With trembling feet will rise,
Will call this love in vain,
That she doth now despise
Ah, love shall wake again!

GRANADA, GRANADA

Granada, Granada, thy gardens are gay,
And bright are thy stars, the high stars above;
But as flowers that fade and are grey,
But as dusk at the end of the day
Are ye to the light in the eyes of my love—
In the eyes, in the soul, of my love.

Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see
My love in thy garden, there waiting for me!
Beloved, beloved, have pity and make
Not the sun shut its eyes, its hot envious eyes;
And the world in the darkness of night,
Be debtor to thee for its light.
Turn thy face, turn thy face from the skies
To the love, to the pain in my eyes.

Granada, Granada, oh, when shall I see
My love in thy garden, there waiting for me!

THE NEW APHRODITE

What though the gods of the eld be dead,
Here are the mountains of azure and snow,
Here are the valleys where loves are wed,
And lilies in blow.

Here are the hands that are lucid, sweet,
Wound at the wrist with an amber beading,
Folds of the seafoam to cover the feet,
Mortals misleading.

Down to the opaline lips of the sea
Wander the lost ones, fallen but mighty,
Stretching out hands, crying, "Turn unto me,
O Aphrodite!"

See where they lift up their faces and scan,
Over the wave-heaps, thy coming; despite thee,
Thou canst not fetter the soul of a man,
O Aphrodite!

Nay, but our bodies we bend, and we give
All that the heart hath, loving, not knowing
Whether the best is to die or to live,
Coming or going.

We shall be taken, but thou shalt live on,
Swallowed in sea-drifts that never affright thee;
Smiling, thou'lt lift up thy sweet hands alone,
Ah, Aphrodite!

Over thy face is a veil of white sea-mist,
Only thine eyes shine like stars; bless or blight me,
I will hold close to the leash at thy wrist,
O Aphrodite!

Rosy and proud are the skies of the East,
Love-dowered moons to enswathe thee, delight thee:
Thy days and our days—are thine then the least,
O Aphrodite?

Thou in the East and I here in the West,
Under our newer skies purple and pleasant:
Who shall decide which is better, attest,
Saga or peasant?

Thou with Serapis, Osiris, and Isis,
I with Jehovah, in vapours and shadows;
Thou with the gods' joy-enhancing devices,
Sweet-smelling meadows.

What is there given us?—Food and some raiment,
Toiling to reach to a Patmian haven,
Giving up all for uncertain repayment,
Feeding the raven.

Striving to peer through the infinite azure,
Alternate turning to earthward and falling,
Measuring life with Damastian measure,
Finite, appalling.

What does it matter! They passed who with Homer
Poured out the wine at the feet of their idols:
Passing, what found they? To-come a misnomer,
It and their idols?

Who knows, ah, who knows! Here in this garden,
Heliotrope, hyacinth, soft suns to light me,
Leaning out, peering, thou, thou art my warden-
Thou, Aphrodite!

Up from the future of all things there come,
Marching abreast in their stately endeavour,
Races unborn, to the beat of the drum,
Of the Forever.

Resting not, beating down all the old traces,
Falls the light step of the new-coming nations,
Burning on altars of our loved graces,
Their new oblations.

What shall we know of it, we who have lifted
Up the dark veil, done sowing and reaping;
What shall we care if our burdens be shifted,
Waking or sleeping?

Sacristan, acolyte, player or preacher,
Each to his office, but who holds the key?
Death, only death, thou, the ultimate teacher,
Will show it to me.

I am, Thou art, and the strong-speaking Jesus,
One in the end of an infinite truth?—
Eyes of a prophet or sphinx may deceive us,
Bearing us ruth,

But when the forts and the barriers fall,
Shall we not find One, the true, the almighty,
Wisely to speak with the worst of us all,
O Aphrodite?

Waiting, I turn from the futile, the human,
Gone is the life of me, laughing with youth;
Steals to learn all in the face of a woman,
Mendicant Truth.

AN ANCIENT PLEDGE

Fair be the garden where their loves may dwell,
Safe be the highway where their feet may go;
Rich be the meadows where their hands may toil,
The fountains many where the good wines flow;
Full be their harvest bins with corn and oil,
And quick their hearts all wise delights to know;
To sorrow may their humour be a foil,
Tardy their footsteps to the gate Farewell.
Deep be your cups. Our hearts the gods make light:
Drink, that their joy may never know good-night!

THE TRIBUTE OF KING HATH

Oh, bring to me a cup of gold,
And bring a platter fair,
And summon forth my Captain old,
Who keeps the royal stair.

And fetch a stoup of that rare wine
That hailed my father's fame;
And bear some white bread from the shrine
Built to my mother's name.

Then, good my gentlemen, bring down
My robe of soft samite;
And let the royal horn be blown,
For we ride far to-night.

Within the pleasant Vale of Loe
Beside the Sea of Var,
The Daughter of our ancient foe
Dwells where her people are.

Tribute her fathers paid to mine—
Young prince to elder crown;
But for a jest 'twixt bread and wine,
They struck our banner down.

And we had foes from Blymar Hills,
From Gathan and Dagost,
And pirates from Bagol that spills
Its refuse on our coast.

And we were girded South and North;
And there beyond the Var,
They drove our goodly fighters forth,
And dimmed our ancient star.

Now they have passed us, home for home,
And matched us town for town;
Their daughters to our sons now come—
Our feud it weareth down.

Between their cups, the hill-men cry,
"The Lady of the Loe!"
The sea-kings swing their flags peak-high
Where'er her galleons go.

Once when the forge of battle sang
'Tween Varan and Thogeel;
And when ten thousand stirrups rang
'Twixt girth and bloody heel,

I saw her ride 'mid mirk and fire,
Unfearing din and death,
Her eyes upflaming like a pyre,
Her fearless smile beneath.

Nor'land 'gainst Southland then she drove,
A million serfs to free;
The reeking shuttle lifeward wove,
Through death from land to sea.

And perched upon the Hill of Zoom,
My gentlemen beside,
I saw the weft shake in the loom,
The revel blazon wide,

Until a thousand companies—
Serf-lords from out Thogeel
Their broadswords brake across their knees,
Good captives to her steel.

And then I sware by name and crown,
And by the Holy Ghost,
When Peace should ride with pennon blown,
From Gathan to Dagost,

Unto her kingdom I should get,
And come not back again,
Until a queen's hand I had set
Upon my bridle rein.

Our ships now nestle at Her coast,
Her corn our garner fills;
And all is quiet at Dagost,
And on the Blymar Hills.

And I will do a deed to bind
An ancient love once more;
My gentlemen shall ride behind,
My Captain on before;

And we will journey forth to-night
Towards the Sea of Var,
Until the vale shall come in sight,
Where Her great cities are.

And to the Daughter of that land,
Which once was kin to mine,
My Captain, he shall bear in hand
This sacred bread and wine.

And he shall show her soft and fair
This peace-spread sacrament:
Her banner it shall ride the air
Upon my Captain's tent.

And if the wine to lip she raise,
With morsel of my bread;
Then as we loved in ancient days,
These lands of ours shall wed.

But mine the tribute. I will bring
My homage to her door,
My gentlemen behind their king,
My Captain on before.

And we aslant will set our spears,
Our good swords dipping free;
And we will ravel back the years
For love of her and me.

And I will prove my faith in this
As never king was proved—
For kings may fight for what they kiss,
And die for what they loved!

But I will bring my court afar,
My throne to hers shall go;
And I will reign beside the Var,
And in the Vale of Loe.

The younger kingdom, it shall be
The keeper of my crown;
And she, my queen, shall reign with me
Within her own good town.

And men shall speak me kind, shall tell
Her graces day and night
So bring my steed that serves me well,
My robe of soft samite,

And bring me here the cup of gold,
And bring the platter fair,
And summon me my Captain old,
That keeps the royal stair.

For well know I the way I go;
I follow but my star:
My home is in the Vale of Loe,
And by the Sea of Var.

THERE IS AN ORCHARD

There is an orchard beyond the sea,
And high is the orchard wall;
And ripe is the fruit in the orchard tree—
Oh, my love is fair and tall!

There is an orchard beyond the sea,
And joy to its haven hies;
And a white hand opens its gate to me—
Oh, deep are my true love's eyes!

There is an orchard beyond the sea,
Its flowers the brown bee sips;
But the stateliest flower is all for me—
Oh, sweet are my true love's lips!

There is an orchard beyond the sea,
Where the soft delights do roam;
To the Great Delight I have bent my knee—
Oh, good is my true love's home!

There is an orchard beyond the sea,
With a nest where the linnets hide;
Oh, warm is the nest that is built for me-
In my true love's heart I bide!

HEART OF THE WORLD

Heart of the World give heed,
Tongues of the World be still!
The richest grapes of the vine shall bleed
Till the greeting-cup shall spill;
The kine shall pause in the pleasant mead,
The eagle upon the hill—
Heart of the World give heed!

Heart of the World break forth,
Tongues of the World proclaim!
There cometh a voice from out the North
And a face of living flame—
A man's soul crying, Behold what worth
Was life till her sweet soul came—
Heart of the World break forth!

Heart of the World be strong,
Tongues of the World be wise!
The White North glows with a morning song
Or ever the red sun dies;
For Love is summer and Love is long,
And the good God 's in his skies—
Heart of the World be strong!

EPITAPHS

THE BEGGAR

Poor as a sparrow was I,
But I was saved like a king;
I heard the death-bells ring,
Yet I saw a light in the sky:
And now to my Father I wing.

THE MAID

A little while I saw the world go by—
A little doorway that I called my own,
A loaf, a cup of water, and a bed had I,
A shrine of Jesus, where I knelt alone
And now, alone, I bid the world good-bye.

THE FOOL
I was a fool; nothing had I to know
Of men, and naught to men had I to give.
God gave me nothing; now to God I go,
Now ask for pain, for bread,
Life for my brain: dead,
By God's love I shall then begin to live.

THE FIGHTER
Blows I have struck, and blows a-many taken,
Wrestling I've fallen, and I've rose up again;
Mostly I've stood—
I've had good bone and blood;
Others went down though fighting might and main.
Now Death steps in,
Death the price of sin:
The fall it will be his; and though I strive and strain,
One blow will close my eyes, and I shall never waken.

THE SEA-REAPERS

When the Four Winds, the Wrestlers, strive with the Sun,
When the Sun is slain in the dark;
When the stars burn out, and the night cries
To the blind sea-reapers, and they rise,
And the water-ways are stark—
God save us when the reapers reap!
When the ships sweep in with the tide to the shore,
And the little white boats return no more;
When the reapers reap,
Lord, give Thy sailors sleep,
If Thou cast us not upon the shore,
To bless Thee evermore
To walk in Thy sight as heretofore,
Though the way of the Lord be steep!
By Thy grace,
Show Thy face,
Lord of the land and the deep!