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- Embers, Volume 1. - 4/8 -

Ages ago, You were a queen, and I, I loved you so: Where was it that we loved-- Ah, do you know?

Was it some golden star Hot with romance? Was it in Malabar, Italy, France? Did we know Charlemagne, Dido, perchance?

But you were a queen, and I Fought for you then: How did you honour me-- More than all men! Kissed me upon the lips; Kiss me again.

Have you forgotten it, All that we said? I still remember though Ages have fled. Whisper the word of life,-- "Love is not dead."


I heard the desert calling, and my heart stood still-- There was winter in my world and in my heart; A breath came from the mesa, and a message stirred my will, And my soul and I arose up to depart.

I heard the desert calling, and I knew that over there In an olive-sheltered garden where the mesquite grows, Was a woman of the sunrise with the star-shine in her hair And a beauty that the almond-blossom blows.

In the night-time when the ghost-trees glimmered in the moon, Where the mesa by the water-course was spanned, Her loveliness enwrapped me like the blessedness of June, And all my life was thrilling in her hand.

I hear the desert calling, and my heart stands still-- There is summer in my world, and in my heart; A breath comes from the mesa, and a will beyond my will Binds my footsteps as I rise up to depart.


Once in the twilight of the Austrian hills, A word came to me, wonderful and good; If I had spoken it--that message of the stars-- Love would have filled thy blood; Love would have sent thee pulsing to my arms, Laughing with joy, thy heart a nestling bird An instant passed--it fled; and now I seek in vain For that forgotten word.


What will this matter, dear, when you and I Have left our sad world for some fairer sky? What will it matter, dear, when, far apart, We miss the touch of hand and beat of heart; When one's at peace, while unto one is given With lonely feet to walk the hills at even? What will it matter that one fault more now Brings clouds upon one eager mortal brow, That one grace less is given to one poor soul, When both drink from the last immortal bowl? For fault and grace, dear love, when we go hence Will find the same Eternal recompense.


Into a New World wandered I, A strong vast realm afar; And down the white peaks of its sky, Beckoned my courier star.

It hailed me to mine ancient North,-- The meadows of the Pole; It whistled my gay hunters forth, It bugled in my soul. On plateaux of the constant snow I heard the meteors whir; I saw the red wolves nor'ward go From my low huts of fir.

The dun moose ran the deep ravine, The musk-ox ranged the plain; The hunter's song dripped in between In notes of scarlet rain.

The land was mine: its lonely pride, Its distant deep desires; And I abode, as hunters bide, With joy beside its fires.

Into a New World wandered I, A world austere, sublime; And unseen feet came sauntering by; A voice with ardent chime Rang down the idle lanes of sleep; I waked: the night was still; I saw my star its sentry keep Along a southern hill.

O flaming star! my courier star! My herald, fine and tall! You gestured from your opal car, I answered to that call. I rose; the flumes of snow I trod, I trailed to southward then; I left behind the camps of God, And sought the tents of men.

And where a princely face looked through The curtains of the play Of life, O star, you paused; I knew The comrade of my day. And good the trails that I have trod, My courier star before; And good the nor'land camps of God: And though I lodge no more

Where stalwart deeds and dreams rejoice, And gallant hunters roam, Where I can hear your voice, your voice, I drive the tent-peg home.


When God was making the world, (Swift was the wind and white was the fire) The feet of His people danced the stars; There was laughter and swinging bells, And clanging iron and breaking breath, The hammers of heaven making the hills, The vales, on the anvils of God. (Wild is the fire and low is the wind)

When God had finished the world, (Bright was the fire and sweet was the wind) Up from the valleys came song, To answer the morning stars; And the hand of man on the anvil rang, His breath was big in his breast, his life Beat strong 'gainst the walls of the world. (Glad is the wind and tall is the fire)


None shall stand in the way of the lord, The Lord of the Earth--of the rivers and trees, Of the cattle and fields and vines: Hew! Here shall I build me my cedar home, A city with gates, a road to the sea-- For I am the lord of the Earth: Hew! Hew! Hew and hew, and the sap of the tree Shall be yours, and your bones shall be strong, Shall be yours, and your heart shall rejoice, Shall be yours, and the city be yours, And the key of its gates be the key Of the home where your little ones dwell. Hew and be strong! Hew and rejoice!

Embers, Volume 1. - 4/8

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