Josephine Preston Peabody Poems

I

Lord Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoice
When at last a little boy's
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Moon in heaven's garden, among the clouds that wander,
Crescent moon so young to see, above the April ways,
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The little Road says, Go,
The little House says, Stay:
And O, it's bonny here at home,
But I must go away.
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'Wolf, Wolf-stay-at-home,
Prowler, -- scout,
Clanless and castaways,
And ailing with the drought,
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Three women crept at break of day
A-grope along the shadowy way
Where Joseph's tomb and garden lay.
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Over the twilight field,
Over the glimmering field
And bleeding furrows, with their sodden yield
Of sheaves that still did writhe,
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The hills far-off were blue, blue,
   The hills at hand were brown;
And all the herd-bells called to me
   As I came by the down.
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Yes, Nightingale, through all the summer-time
   We followed on, from moon to golden moon;
   From where Salerno day-dreams in the noon,
And the far rose of Paestum once did climb.
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The islands called me far away,
   The valleys called me home.
The rivers with a silver voice
   Drew on my heart to come.
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The winds have blown more bitter
Each darkening day of fall;
High over all the house-tops
The stars are far and small
...