Part 5

An hour there is when bright words flow, A little hour for sleep, An hour between, when lights are low, And then she seems to weep,

But no less lovely than of old She shines, and almost hears The horns that blew in days of gold, The shouting charioteers.

And still she breaks the hearts of men, Their hearts and all their pride, Doomed to be cruel once again, And live dissatisfied.

WAR SONG OF THE SARACENS

We are they who come faster than fate: we are they who ride early or late: We storm at your ivory gate: Pale Kings of the Sunset, beware! Not on silk nor in samet we lie, not in curtained solemnity die Among women who chatter and cry, and children who mumble a prayer. But we sleep by the ropes of the camp, and we rise with a shout, and we tramp With the sun or the moon for a lamp, and the spray of the wind in our hair.

From the lands, where the elephants are, to the forts of Merou and Balghar, Our steel we have brought and our star to shine on the ruins of Rum. We have marched from the Indus to Spain, and by God we will go there again; We have stood on the shore of the plain where the Waters of Destiny boom.

A mart of destruction we made at Jalula where men were afraid, For death was a difficult trade, and the sword was a broker of doom; And the Spear was a Desert Physician who cured not a few of ambition, And drave not a few to perdition with medicine bitter and strong: And the shield was a grief to the fool and as bright as a desolate pool, And as straight as the rock of Stamboul when their cavalry thundered along: For the coward was drowned with the brave when our battle sheered up like a wave, And the dead to the desert we gave, and the glory to God in our song.

JOSEPH AND MARY

JOSEPH

Mary, art thou the little maid Who plucked me flowers in Spring? I know thee not: I feel afraid: Thou'rt strange this evening.

A sweet and rustic girl I won What time the woods were green; No woman with deep eyes that shone, And the pale brows of a Queen.

MARY (inattentive to his words.)

A stranger came with feet of flame And told me this strange thing, - For all I was a village maid My son should be a King.

JOSEPH

A King, dear wife. Who ever knew Of Kings in stables born!

MARY

Do you hear, in the dark and starlit blue The clarion and the horn?

JOSEPH

Mary, alas, lest grief and joy Have sent thy wits astray; But let me look on this my boy, And take the wraps away.

MARY

Behold the lad.

JOSEPH

I dare not gaze: Light streams from every limb.

MARY

The winter sun has stored his rays, And passed the fire to him.

Look Eastward, look! I hear a sound. O Joseph, what do you see?

JOSEPH

The snow lies quiet on the ground And glistens on the tree;