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    Fires of Driftwood
    Fires of Driftwood
    Fires of Driftwood
    Ebook153 pages1 hour

    Fires of Driftwood

    By Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Fires of Driftwood

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      Book preview

      Fires of Driftwood - Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

      Project Gutenberg's Fires of Driftwood, by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

      Title: Fires of Driftwood

      Author: Isabel Ecclestone Mackay

      Release Date: May 30, 2004 [EBook #12475]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIRES OF DRIFTWOOD ***

      Produced by Andrew Sly. Thanks to A Celebration of Women Writers

      for providing the source text.

      FIRES OF DRIFTWOOD

      BY ISABEL ECCLESTONE MACKAY

      WITH DECORATIONS BY J.E.H. MACDONALD A.R.C.A.

      First published by McClelland & Stewart, Limited, Toronto, 1922.

      The thanks of the author are due to the editors of Ainslee’s Magazine, The American Magazine, The Canadian Magazine, Canadian Home Journal, The Canadian Bookman, The Forum, The Globe, Harper’s Magazine, The Independent, The Ladies’ World, McClure’s Magazine, Metropolitan Magazine, The Reader Magazine, Scribner’s Magazine, Saturday Night, and The Youth’s Companion for permission to publish this verse in its present form.

      CONTENTS

      FIRES OF DRIFTWOOD

      WHEN AS A LAD

      LAUREATE

      OUT OF BABYLON

      LAST SPRING

      PRESENCE

      IN AN AUTUMN GARDEN

      ROSE DOLORES

      A PILGRIM

      SPRING WILL COME

      COSMOS

      THE SECRET

      I WATCH SWIFT PICTURES

      FEAR

      RESURRECTION

      THE LOST NAME

      THE HAPPY TRAVELLER

      THE DEAD BRIDE

      THE CROCUS BED

      THE VISION

      THE MIRACLE

      THE HOMESTEADER

      WET WEATHER

      THE SLEEPING BEAUTY

      DOWN AT THE DOCKS

      LAKE LOUISE

      THE GATEKEEPER

      THE BRIDGE BUILDER

      THE PRAIRIE SCHOOL

      CALGARY STATION

      VALE

      THE WAY TO WAIT

      THE PASSER BY

      FIRST LOVE

      SAD ONE, MUST YOU WEEP

      JOSEPH

      A CHRISTMAS CHILD

      SPRING IN NAZARETH

      INHERITANCE

      SONG OF THE SLEEPER

      THE TYRANT

      THE GIFTS

      THE TOWN BETWEEN

      ON THE MOUNTAIN

      THE PROPHET

      GIVE ME A DAY

      LITTLE BROWN BIRD

      THE WATCHER

      POSSESSION

      TO ARCADY

      THE FIELDS OF EVEN

      I LOVE MY LOVE

      SPRING AWOKE TO-DAY

      IN TOWN

      SUMMER’S PASSING

      THE DOOM OF YS

      TIME’S GARDEN

      THE COMING OF LOVE

      PREMONITION

      THE CHILD

      INTRUSION

      THE SEA’S WITHHOLDING

      LOVE UNKIND

      CHRISTMAS IN HEAVEN

      I WHISPERED TO THE BOB-O-LINK

      YOU

      THE MOTHER

      THE VASSAL

      THE TROUBADOUR

      INDIAN SUMMER

      THE UNCHANGED

      INDIFFERENCE

      LAST THINGS

      CALLOUS CUPID

      THE MEETING

      THE PIPER

      WANDERLUST

      GOLD

      THE MATERIALIST

      TIR NAN OG

      THE LITTLE MAN IN GREEN

      THE ENCHANTRESS

      THE BANSHEE

      THE WITCH

      FAIRY SINGING

      KILLED IN ACTION

      SPRING CAME IN

      FROM THE TRENCHES

      THE REASONS

      TO-DAY

      MEMORY

      DREAM

      PERHAPS

      GLAMOUR

      FRIENDSHIP

      THE RETURNED MAN

      EPITAPH

      FOR ONE WHO WENT IN SPRING

      Fires of Driftwood

      ON what long tides

      Do you drift to my fire,

      You waifs of strange waters?

      From what far seas,

      What murmurous sands,

      What desolate beaches—

      Flotsam of those glories that were ships!

      I gather you,

      Bitter with salt,

      Sun-bleached, rock-scarred, moon-harried,

      Fuel for my fire.

      You are Pride’s end.

      Through all to-morrows you are yesterday.

      You are waste,

      You are ruin,

      For where is that which once you were?

      I gather you.

      See! I set free the fire within you—

      You awake in thin flame!

      Tremulous, mistlike, your soul aspires,

      Blue, beautiful,

      Up and up to the clouds which are its kindred!

      What is left is nothing—

      Ashes blown along the shore!

      When as a Lad

        WHEN, as a lad, at break of day

        I watched the fishers sail away,

      My thoughts, like flocking birds, would follow

      Across the curving sky’s blue hollow,

        And on and on—

        Into the very heart of dawn!

        For long I searched the world—ah, me!

        I searched the sky, I searched the sea,

      With much of useless grief and rueing

      Those wingéd thoughts of mine pursuing—

        So dear were they,

        So lovely and so far away!

        I seek them still and always must

        Until my laggard heart is dust

      And I am free to follow, follow,

      Across the curving sky’s blue hollow,

        Those thoughts too fleet

        For any save the soul’s swift feet!

      Laureate

      DEATH met a little child who cried

      For a bright star which earth denied,

      And Death, so sympathetic, kissed it,

      Saying: "With me

      All bright things be!"—

      And only the child’s mother missed it.

      Death met a maiden on the brae,

      Her eyes held dreams life would betray,

      And gallant Death was greatly taken—

      Leave, whispered he,

      "Your dream with me

      And I will see you never waken."

      Death met an old man in a lane;

      So gnarled was he and full of pain

      That kindly Death was struck with pity—

      "Come you with me,

      Old man," said he,

      I’ll set you down in a fair city.

      So, kingly Death along the way

      Scatters rare gifts and asks no pay—

      Yet who to Death will write a sonnet?

      If any dare,

      Let him take care

      No foolish tear be spilled upon it!

      Out of Babylon

      THEIR looks for me are bitter,

        And bitter is their word—

      I may not glance behind unseen,

        I may not sigh unheard.

      So fare we forth from Babylon,

        Along the road of stone;

      And no one looks to Babylon

        Save I—save I alone!

      My mother’s eyes are glory-filled

        (Save when they fall on me)

      The shining of my father’s face

        I tremble when I see,

      For they were slaves in Babylon,

        And now they’re walking free—

      They leave their chains in Babylon,

        I bear my chains with me!

      At night a sound of singing

        The vast encampment fills;

      "Jerusalem!

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