RENASCENCE

⁂ This Edition on Large Paper is limited to Sixty-five copies for England and Thirty-five for America. This copy is No. 45 of the English Edition.

·RENASCENCE·
·A·BOOK·of·
·VERSE·

BY
·WALTER·CRANE·
·London: ELKIN·
·MATHEWS·AT·THE·
·SIGN·OF·THE·BODLEY
·HEAD·IN·VIGO·ST·1891·

THIS sheaf that I have bound, of mingled grain,

Beneath the noon to give a spot of shade,

Where might we sit and mark, before they fade,

The fleeting lights across life’s dappled plain;

Ere with its treasured had Time’s rolling wain—

Piled up with memories, and thoughts unsaid,

With hopes and fears in trembling leaf and blade—

Turns sun-ward, where the harvest-home is made.

Perchance the tangled stems some flowers enfold,

Not all unmeet the brows of her to wreath,

Who with me bore the burden of the morn.

If yet the scarlet please not, on the corn,

Love’s blue is stedfast, and thy name in gold

Is writ by love’s wing-feather underneath.

OF the poems in this book, the whole of those included in Part I. are now printed for the first time.

Of the rest, “The Sirens Three,” “Thoughts in a Hammock,” “A Herald of Spring,” and the Rondeau—“Across the Fields,” all appeared with designs of mine, as decorative pages, in “The English Illustrated Magazine,” “The Sirens Three” being afterwards issued, with the illustrations, in book-form, by Messrs. Macmillan and Co., whom I have to thank for permission to reprint it with the others here.

“Flora’s Feast,” with coloured designs of the flowers to each couplet, has been published as a Christmas book by Messrs. Cassell and Co., at whose consent it re-appears.

I regret there should have been any delay in the appearance of the book, which has been owing to the illness of the engraver who had charge of some of the blocks.

Walter Crane.

April, 1891.

CONTENTS

PART I. EARLIER POEMS

INVOCATION

O SOUL of souls, awake! Lift up thine eyes

To meet the dayspring, till their spherèd skies

Flash answering light to pierce the clinging veil

Of mists and shadows of the night grown pale.

Renascent, leave the tombment of thy bed,

Though rich with painted love of legend dead,

And gilded with the gold of hallowed time,

And dim with dreams and darkness of the prime.

O joy of Man, arise! Behold Time brings

Deliverance for thee, and thoughts’ swift wings

Are dyed afresh in iris hues of Hope

Who paints for thee, by her creative scope,

New heaven in earth renewed before thy sight,

With golden fields unreaped and fresh delight

Of flower, and fruit of no forbidden tree,

Where Life is Love, and blooms sweet Liberty.

O Bride of Light! Like Aphrodite rise

From rosy waves of morn that crystallize

Thy sacred image in their mirror, smooth

As sculpture of the shining limbs they soothe;

And clothe thyself in pureness like the sun,

With lily lawn and blue of heaven, spun

From spotless fields of interstellar space—

A seamless shrine to keep thy inward grace.

Put on thy broidered robe, thy bride’s attire,

Put on thy glory, and the jewel fire

Of fearless thought, nor let thine handmaids spare,

All grateful tribute from the sweet and fair

To deck thy loveliness, and make appear

The fullness of the beauty thou dost wear:

But let no crown thy golden head dethrone

Except the coronal of wisdom’s own.

Fare forth, fair Bride, and from thy chamber come,

Lo! they are waiting who shall lead thee home:

The winged procession of the eager Hours,

Before thy feet to pave the way with flowers;

The Daughters of the Year, the Seasons Four,

Have decked the happy earth with sun and shower;

Each joyful mouth, each blissful day is swift

To bring unto thy feet its treasured gift;

The Sisters Three, who plough, and sow, and reap,

Still gather thee Time’s grain in growing heap,

From golden age to golden age to be;

Their dreamful faces rapt in prophecy

Of veiled futurity’s potential hour

Where Fate prepareth thine immortal dower.

Arise, sweet soul! Arise, and take thy throne,

Upbuilt in ages long by stone on stone—

The human spirit’s still aspiring stair

Whose marble feet were laid in toil and care,

And washed with tears, and worn in eager quest

Of false and fleeting phantoms, seeking rest.

But now thy feet are fledged and would aspire

To climb the summit of thy hope’s desire,

High where in sculptured walls and towers rise

Her architecture, white in azure skies,

Tinged with the fire of dawn above thy head—

Ah! there, fair soul, thy marriage feast is spread.

And there, with Wisdom still, and Knowledge clear,

Sweet counsel shalt thou take, and without fear,

For Love will give thee law, and Love shall be

Thy chancellor and rule equality.

No sceptre shall thy white right hand e’er hold

But sacred Freedom, brighter than the gold

Of kingships, and blessing by the power

That crowns life’s magic staff with bud and flower:

Nor be thy sister hand forgotten sole,

The while her slender fingers do control

The world’s large heart, and in its compass found

The wealth of all the universe embound.

And thou shalt open the eternal reign

Of Justice; while fair Peace, with all her train,

Shall sow the earth with blessings and impart

New joy and skill to men in Craft and Art;

To gather from all shores the scattered gems

With beauty’s pearls to deck thought’s diadems:

And Poesy shall fill thy courts with song,

And Commonwealth the ocean gateways throng

With white-winged messengers from all the lands

And tidings glad shall join the nation’s hands,

From riches and from penury set free,

And from the last dread link of slavery;

And eke from tyrant sword, and tyrant gold,

And priestly nightmare that the soul doth fold.

There Giant Labour in his strength new-found,

Rejoicing, shall go forth to break new ground,

One brotherhood with Art and Knowledge clear;

To bridge the gulf of space and bring men near;

With fruitful brain and hand to bring new birth

Of Titan forces to subdue the earth,

And from the willing hands of nature draw

New benefits, and, owning but her law,

Out of her treasury things tried and true,

In human faith and hope to build anew

Man’s shattered house, and paint his storied wall

For Life and Love, a heritage for all.

·THE·CITY·OF·LOVE·

ABOUT the time when garlanded green May

At Summer’s threshold casts her blossom crown,

Time bore me on his wingèd wheels away,

Out of the joyless city where I lay,

From smoke-dimmed streets whose dusky skies disown

The day-god’s glorious face, serene that shows

This day of days, to reign in his fair house,

Cloud-built, and white, and interspaced with blue,

Above the green earth’s fields that I did pass,

Bearing ungathered harvests in their grass

Of star-bright flowers, and every magic hue

Born of the hours, and of the kindling zone

Sun-cast o’er wandering mead and upland lone,

That now on every hand mine eyes did fill,

As went the wheel whirl’d with the fiery will.

And always, as the changeful landscape spread

Mead beyond mead, and furrow’d ridge and tree,

And traversed road, and bridge, and woodland lea;

Me seemèd as a chart my life to see,

What was, and is, and that which is to be,

As dark and bright the region’s face I read.

Nor yet I stay’d at all, but still with Time

Fled by, and onward many leagues, until,

About the height of day the wheel was still,

About the hour it was ere noon should chime,

And I look’d forth and saw dim-pointed spires,

Like flames, arising from a golden mead

Which burn’d with all the yellow crowded fires

Of shining cups that fill the fields of May:

Whereby a city fair mine eyes had heed,

Verged round with bowery close, and willows grey

Shading the silent water’s secret way,

Girdling the quiet town with cluster’d reed.

Thence rose no surge of men, or sound of strife,

But smoothly glode the even hours of life,

Told by the sweet-tongued bells in tuneful towers;

And in the streets there moved the breath of flowers,

And incense, such as riseth after showers

Upon deep gardens, hiding in their bowers

The inmost heart of sweetness.

Still my way

Drew on, between high-window’d walls and old,

That to the street an ancient story told,

With solemn mien unto Life’s changing day,

In restless ebb and flow, as sea-waves play

About the feet of lonely cliff’s; tho’ now

Even these I pass’d, as fleeting things and vain,

For all my heart a strange consuming pain

Possess’d, in thought of what I hoped to gain

Fill’d with an exquisite fire, wherein did show

All things as dross, or gold of fairest vein:

As, since the gate of Love had oped for me,

I lived in hell or heavenly ecstasy.

But all things on this day had good import,

For even now I went to Love’s high court,

To greet my heart’s dear queen, where she did dwell

In this his holy city, where the streets

Seem’d gold, or like the burnish’d path which meets

The sun’s bright porch across the shining sea;

So in Love’s glory shone my way to me.

Until before her gate the splendour fell.

Robed in sweet grace and crowned with her hair,

I met my queen, upon her palace stair,

And near I was to fall and worship there,

As to her hand I brought a golden gift,

Which she, my gracious sovereign, counted well,

And me unto her highest grace did lift,

Making me rich above all kingly state.

For side by side within her house we sate,

Or ’neath the azure canopy of heaven,

And every hour and every day, of seven,

Brought unto our feet their separate joy.

And every day the plenteous feast was spread

Before my grateful heart, and eyes, and lips

That drank the wine of Love and broke his bread,

And drew my soul delight thro’ honey sips

From the sweet source of sweet which may not cloy.

Then from Love’s banquet, rising, my beloved

Forth led me in the bond of her dear hand,

That we in his glad courts might understand

Fresh joyance; and thro’ all his realm we moved.

Adown the golden street my lady led,

Where pass’d us, to and fro, Love’s votaries—

The searchers of his book, within whose eyes

Was writ his name, whose chanting lips had said

His prayers and orisons within the shrines,

Dim-window’d, strange, and still with sacred air,

Stirr’d by the wings of singing spirits fair,

When the sweet anthem lifteth or declines,

In organ waves that sweep along the lines

Of the soul’s shore, to break upon and die,

Soft on the soothed borders, silently.

We passéd by the door and enter’d in,

For in Love’s holy place we sought to win

High ecstasy whereon our souls might climb

Even to the utmost gate of golden bliss,

And know within the sanctuary of this,

Our dear inheritance in God’s good time.

Love’s service done, forth streamed from their place

His choristers and singing boys, attired

In white raiment, shining where they quired;

And after them we went with silent pace,

And towards the groves of pleasure turn’d our face,

Whence by green quietude of cloister’d stone,

And shadow’d courts that kept themselves alone,

And ’neath the carven boughs that interlace;

Until we came beneath the fairer roof

Of curtain’d leaves, light spread, of greenest woof,

Glowing between the stoney window fret,

As shines such light of paradise men get,

Dark-barr’d by care which holdeth them aloof

And binds their souls within life’s twisted net.

But enter’d we the joyful Eden gate,

Where talk the trees of summer, and of green

More glorious than May’s bright head doth screen

Whereas she hideth from the flaming state,

When the all regal sun would penetrate,

Seeking dominion in the realm of shade,

Where now we thought to find sweet pleasure laid,

And take her sleeping, while the hours should wait.

Yea! hidden in the odorous aisles of May;

Whose fragrance fans the air which faints away,

There, in a labyrinth of leaves I caught her—

Whereby soft willows kiss the silent water—

I caught her, and I kiss’d, tho’ she did pray

Release, and said: “Thou canst not hold Time’s daughter.”

But her I held, nor let her thence depart

Till I had won her favourable grace;

And after oft we saw her fleeting face

Laugh through the leaves, and in our kindled heart

Were glad exceedingly, nor thought to part,

Content a little while in each fair place

To know a sweet above all flowery space.

My faint tongue faltereth when I would tell

What doors of joy we pass’d, what sights to seek,

But Love’s day endeth, and his holy week,

Whose dear appointed feasts we kept full well;

Seeking Love’s face at morn and eventide,

Tho’ oft it was too bright to look upon,

Shining above the splendour of the sun,

A burning flame when day’s dim fire had died.

And now, the last of days, it came to pass

I with my Love, upon a space of grass,

Sate by a water which the willows kept

And silently the stream beneath them swept,

Secret as time, and still, and staying not;

Fair fell the sun thro’ glancing leaves above,