Miscellany of Poetry | Page 4

had sailed across the sea from the harbour of Africa, When
all the slaves took up their tools for the bidding of Barbara; She smote
the bare wall with her hand, and bade them smite again, She poured
them wealth of wine and meat to stay them in their pain, And cried
through the lifted thunder of thronging hammer and hod: 'Throw open
the third window in the third name of God!'
Then the hearts failed
and the tools fell; and far towards the foam Men saw a shadow on the
sands; and her father coming home."
Speak low and low, along the line the whispered word is flying, Before
the touch, before the time, we may not lose a breath. Their guns must
mash us to the mire and there be no replying Till the hand is raised to

fling us for the final dice to Death.
"'There were two windows in your tower, Barbara, Barbara,
For all
between the sun and moon in the lands of Africa.
Hath a man three
eyes, Barbara, a bird three wings,
That you have riven roof and wall
to look upon vain things?' Her voice was like a wandering thing that
falters, yet is free, Whose soul has drunk in a distant land of the rivers
of liberty.
"'There are more wings than the wind knows, or eyes than see the sun,
In the light of the lost window and the wind of the doors undone; For
out of the first lattice are the red lands that break
And out of the
second lattice, sea like a green snake,
But out of the third lattice,
under low eaves like wings
Is a new corner of the sky and the other
side of things.'"
It opened in the inmost place an instant beyond uttering,
A casement
and a chasm and a thunder of doors undone,
A seraph's strong wing
shaken out the shock of its unshuttering That split the shattered sunlight
from a light behind the sun.
"Then he drew sword and drave her where the judges sat and said:
'Cæsar sits above the Gods, Barbara the maid,
Cæsar hath made a
treaty with the moon and with the sun
All the gods that men can
praise, praise him every one.
There is peace with the anointed of the
scarlet oils of Bel, With the Fish God, where the whirlpool is a winding
stair to hell, With the pathless pyramids of slime, where the mitred
negro lifts To his black cherub in the cloud abominable gifts,
With
the leprous silver cities where the dumb priests dance and nod, But not
with the three windows and the last name of God.'"
They are firing, we are falling, and the red skies rend and shiver us ...

Barbara, Barbara, we may not loose a breath--
Be at the bursting
doors of doom, and in the dark deliver us, Who loosen the last window
on the sun of sudden death.

"Barbara, the beautiful, stood up as a queen set free.
Whose mouth is
set to a terrible cup and the trumpet of liberty; 'I have looked forth from
a window that no man now shall bar, Cæsar's toppling battle towers
shall never stretch so far;
The slaves are dancing in their chains, the
child laughs at the rod, Because of the bird of the three wings, and the
third face of God.' The sword upon his shoulder shifted and shone and
fell,
And Barbara lay very small and crumpled like a shell."
What wall upon what hinges turned stands open like a door? Too
simple for the sight of faith, too huge for human eyes, What light upon
what ancient way shines to a far off floor, The line of the lost land of
France or the plains of Paradise?
"Cæsar smiled above the gods, his lip of stone was curled,
His iron
armies wound like chains round and round the world. And the strong
slayer of his own that cut down flesh for grass, Smiled, too, and went to
his own tower like a walking tower of brass, And the songs ceased and
the slaves were dumb: and far towards the foam Men saw a shadow on
the sands; and her father coming home....
"Blood of his blood upon the sword stood red but never dry, He wiped
it slowly, till the blade was blue as the blue sky: But the blue sky split
with a thunder-crack, spat down a blinding brand, And all of him lay
back and flat as his shadow on the sand."
The touch and the tornado; all our guns give tongue together, St.
Barbara for the gunnery and God defend the right--
They are stopped
and gapped and battered as we blast away the weather, Building
window upon window to our lady of the light;
For the light is come
on Liberty, her foes are falling, falling, They are reeling, they are
running,