John Macfarlane
The Two Angels
I STOOD and saw the angel of the dawn,
Whose rest had been in heaven the dark night through,
Pressing, with jewelled feet, the silent lawn
In radiant robes of dew.
And slowly to the west, in ebon gloom,
Upbearing in his lifted hands on high
The scroll of destiny—of life and doom—
The night-watch passëd by.
But ere he turned his step from earth away
I gazed upon his countenance again,
And, lo! I thought upon his brow there lay
A shadow as of pain.
But he, the brother-angel of the day,
Bore on his breast the beaming star of hope,
And in his golden chalice balm, alway,
On bruisëd hearts to drop.
And so to men there cometh evermore
One angel fraught with promise, making glad;
And one who taketh from the stricken sore
Much anguish, wild and sad.
A Grave in Samoa
THE wild birds strangely call,
And silent dawns and purple eves are here,
Where Southern stars upon his grave look down,
Calm-eyed and wondrous clear!
No strife his resting mars!
And yet we deem far off from tropic steeps
His spirit cleaves the pathway of the storm,
Where dark Tantallon keeps.
For still in plaintive woe,
By haunting mem’ry of his yearning led,
The wave-worn Mother of the misty strand
Mourns for her absent dead:
“Ah! bear him gently home,
To where Dunedin’s streets are quaint and gray,
And ruddy lights across the steaming rains
Shine soft at close of day!”
A Midsummer Madrigal
AT the postern gate of Day
Stands Apollo, clad in light,
Trilling forth a summons gay
To the wrinkled warder Night:
“Ho! old laggard, what has kept?
Dost not hear this challenge mine?
Well I wot thy beard has dipt
In the wassail’s ruddy wine.
Song and story, gibe and jest,
With thy boon companions all;
To the donjon of the West
Now betake thee, Seneschal.
Ward and watch, and vigil keen,
Still thy beacon fires confest,
Blazing in the blue serene;
Hie thee, warrior, to thy rest!”
And in armor silver-dight,
As becomes a knight to win,
At the postern held by Night
Crowned Apollo enters in.