Verses from Maoriland/Duty and Love
DUTY AND LOVE
She dwelt apart upon the warm hillside,
And her soul’s home amongst the flowers was set;
There in the sunshine, lilies golden-eyed
Bloom’d, and the air was sweet with mignonette.
Away to westward, far across the plain,
She saw the glitter of eternal snow
Upon the mountains; and to East again
Beheld the splendour of the sea below.
Beneath her, when the wreaths of fog uncurled,
She saw a valley where lived other men
For ever toiling in a sunless world
Of squalid village, weedy waste, and fen.
And often, as she watched them from the height,
She sighed to think of lives so lost and low:
“Poor souls! how limited the range of sight
Of them who pace that valley to and fro!”
And in the glow of golden afterlight,
One wandered through her garden whom she knew,
And at his step her world seemed yet more bright,
Her roses glistened as with fresh-fall’n dew.
Then down she stepped from her soul’s citadel,
And bowed herself, and bending, kissed his feet,
Saying: “Ah Love! now thou art come, all’s well;
How have I lived until thy coming, Sweet?”
There knocked a stranger at her shrine of shrines,
Heard, but unheeded there for many a day;
To whom she, opening—instinct quick divines!—
“Art thou not Duty? answer me, and say!”
And Duty looked at her with grim, grey face,
And as he looked her flowers drooped and died:
“Go down! within the shadow is thy place,
Go down!” he said: “I may not be denied.”
“Ah Duty! must I part from happiness,
And from my Love?—him must I lose indeed?”—
“Leave thou thy Garden to the wilderness,
And thy dear Love, and follow as I lead!”
“And must I leave my flowers all behind?
Lo, I will take this sprig of rosemary,
That, growing in the valley, it may mind
Me of my mountains, and my mighty sea.”
So saying she within her bosom set
A golden jar that in the sunlight flashed;
Wherein grew rosemary and mignonette;
Then turned she, and the gate behind them clashed.
But Duty looked at her with cold, calm eyes,
And heavy grew the burden in her breast;
“Throw down,” said he, “thy golden memories,
Look not behind thee: think not thou to rest.
“For I am He who may not be denied,
And thou must enter now the shadow-world.”
Then did she throw her rosemary aside,
And round the twain sudden the fog-wreaths curled.
There were not any gardens in the vale;
No plant grew well in soil so sour and wet,
But sedge, and dock, and darnel; and one pale
Immortal on a window-ledge was set.
And up and down the valley-dwellers went,
Hither and thither on the daily round;
Each on his own small scheme of life intent,—
One, to the workshop,—one, to till the ground.
Then said she: “Lo, I will a Garden make,
Though only wan Immortals grow therein;
This will I, Duty, for my lost Love’s sake,
Perchance I some from these dull tasks may win.”
But Duty looked at her with stern white brow,
And she (sweet soul!) read judgment in his glance;
“Go to the fields!” he said: “What folly now?
Thou needs must toil for thine own sustenance.
“Thou shalt not see thy sun, nor feel thy wind,
Nor hear the music of thy mountain-streams;
Thy Gardens are for ever left behind,
And empty is thine echoing House of Dreams!”
So to the fields she went for daily food,
As Duty bade her; till it chanced one morn
A woman gleaned beside her, old and rude,
Whose palsied fingers scarce could hold the corn.
“Thou, of thy mercy, let some little be,”
(She thus in feeble accents uttered moan,)
“Or wilt thou let me garner close to thee,
Until the hour when I must die alone?”
The answer came in pity; “Mother, nay,
Thou art not lone; I will not leave thee more,
We two will work together all our day,
And thou and I will share our little store.”
So side by side they gleaned the scanty grain,
And housed together through the hours of night,
For many a day, till Duty came again,
And she beheld him, silent in the light;
And cried: “Thou art not Duty! thou art mild,
And surely there is sunshine on thy brow;
How like thou art to Love!”—“What wonder, child?
Look in mine eyes, and thou wilt know me now!”