Three Dramatic Songs

When once the bold and barren frame
     Of earth was new and dry,
And warring gods like hawks of flame
     Swept thro’ the golden sky,
The little souls that had no name,
     Crouch’d close while they went by.
So we that hold and cherish
     ‘Midst barren powers and bold,
The long, deep thoughts that perish
     Yet ever are re-told.
Low-voices among the heedless,
     Make us our gods anew,
No longer stern and needless,
     But meek as even you.
The Gods’ gift are you, dear one,
     Fruit of my fate and pain,
A dream sent out to sear us,
     And bring the dreams again.

“The coward’s exit,”
Call it what you will,
So I escape the dolour of the fight;
The dragging horror of the sleepless night,
The callous glare of each indifferent day.
Bankrupt of hope, adrift on waters rough,
Drenched by all seas – hard on a perilous shore;
Buffeted to and fro, - I can no more;
It is enough, O God, it is enough!

Come not, when I am dead,
To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave,
To trample round my fallen head,
And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save.
There let the wind sweep and the plover cry;
But thou, go by.

Child, if it were thine error or thy crime
I care no longer, being all unblest:
Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time,
And I desire to rest.
Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie:
Go by, go by.