AE in the Irish Theosophist. George William Russell

AE in the Irish Theosophist - George William Russell


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over Aileen a maiden

       Looked back through the ages dim:

       She laughed, and her eyes were laden

       With an old-time love for him.

      In a mist came temples thronging

       With sphinxes seen in a row,

       And the rest of the day was a longing

       For their homes of long ago.

      "We'd go there if they'd let us,"

       They said with wounded pride:

       "They never think when they pet us

       We are old like that inside."

      There was some one round them straying

       The whole of the long day through,

       Who seemed to say, "I am playing

       At hide-and-seek with you."

      And one thing after another

       Was whispered out of the air,

       How God was a big kind brother

       Whose home was in everywhere.

      His light like a smile come glancing

       From the cool, cool winds as they pass;

       From the flowers in heaven dancing

       And the stars that shine in the grass,

      And the clouds in deep blue wreathing,

       And most from the mountains tall,

       But God like a wind goes breathing

       A heart-light of gold in all.

      It grows like a tree and pushes

       Its way through the inner gloom,

       And flowers in quick little rushes

       Of love to a magic bloom.

      And no one need sigh now or sorrow

       Whenever the heart-light flies,

       For it comes again on some morrow

       And nobody ever dies.

      The heart of the Wise was beating

       In the children's heart that day,

       And many a thought came fleeting,

       And fancies solemn and gay.

      They were grave in a way divining

       How childhood was taking wings,

       And the wonder world was shining

       With vast eternal things.

      The solemn twilight fluttered

       Like the plumes of seraphim,

       And they felt what things were uttered

       In the sunset voice of Him.

      They lingered long, for dearer

       Than home were the mountain places

       Where God from the stars dropt nearer

       Their pale, dreamy faces.

      Their very hearts from beating

       They stilled in awed delight.

       For Spirit and children were meeting

       In the purple, ample night.

      Dusk its ash-grey blossoms sheds on violet skies

       Over twilight mountains where the heart-songs rise,

       Rise and fall and fade again from earth to air:

       Earth renews the music sweeter. Oh, come there.

       Come, ma cushla, come, as in ancient times

       Rings aloud and the underland with faery chimes.

       Down the unseen ways as strays each tinkling fleece

       Winding ever onward to a fold of peace,

       So my dreams go straying in a land more fair;

       Half I tread the dew-wet grasses, half wander there.

       Fade your glimmering eyes in a world grown cold:

       Come, ma cushla, with me to the mountain's fold,

       Where the bright ones call us waving to and fro:

       Come, my children, with me to the Ancient go.

      —October 15, 1896

      A Dawn Song

      While the earth is dark and grey

       How I laugh within: I know

       In my breast what ardours gay

       From the morning overflow.

      Though the cheek be white and wet

       In my heart no fear may fall:

       There my chieftain leads, and yet

       Ancient battle-trumpets call.

      Bend on me no hasty frown

       If my spirit slight your cares:

       Sunlike still my joy looks down

       Changing tears to beamy airs.

      Think me not of fickle heart

       If with joy my bosom swells

       Though your ways from mine depart:

       In the true are no farewells.

      What I love in you I find

       Everywhere. A friend I greet

       In each flower and tree and wind—

       Oh, but life is sweet, is sweet.

      What to you are bolts and bars

       Are to me the hands that guide

       To the freedom of the stars

       Where my golden kinsmen bide.

      From my mountain top I view:

       Twilight's purple flower is gone,

       And I send my song to you

       On the level light of dawn.

      —November 15, 1896

      —An Ancient Eden

      Our legends tell of aery fountains upspringing in Eri, and how the people of long ago saw them not but only the Tuatha de Danaan. Some deem it was the natural outflow of water at these places which was held to be sacred; but above fountain, rill and river rose up the enchanted froth and foam of invisible rills and rivers breaking forth from Tir-na-noge, the soul of the island, and glittering in the sunlight of its mystic day. What we see here is imaged forth from that invisible soul and is a path thereto. In the heroic Epic of Cuculain Standish O'Grady writes of such a fountain, and prefixes his chapter with the verse from Genesis, "And four rivers went forth from Eden to water the garden," and what follows in reference thereto.

      The Fountain of Shadowy Beauty

      —A Dream

      I would I could weave in

       The colour, the wonder,

       The song I conceive in

       My heart while I ponder,

      And show how it came like

       The magi of old

       Whose chant was a flame like

       The dawn's voice of gold;

      Who dreams followed near them

       A murmur of birds,

       And ear still could hear them

       Unchanted in words.

      In words I can only

       Reveal thee my heart,

       Oh, Light of the Lonely,

       The shining impart.

      Between the twilight and the dark

      


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