: Fires of Driftwood by Mackay Isabel Ecclestone - Canadian poetry

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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 winged 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.

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