Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall Poems

OVER the long salt ridges
And the gold sea-poppies between,
They builded them wild-briar hedges,
A church and a cloistered green.
...

BRONZE bells and incense burners, and a flight
Of birds born out of iron, and fine as spray;
A dial that told the longest summer day
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WIND-SILVERED willows hedge the stream,
And all within is hushed and cool.
The water, in an endless dream,
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'If there arise among you a prophet or dreamer. . .'
I HAVE left a basket of dates
In the cool dark room that is under the vine,
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MIRANDA? She died soon, and sick for home.
And dark Ilario the Milanese
Carved her in garments 'scutcheoned to the knees,
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I shall not go with pain
Whether you hold me, whether you forget
My little loss and my immortal gain.
O flower unseen, O fountain sealed apart!
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COME not the earliest petal here, but only
Wind, cloud, and star,
Lovely and far,
Make it less lonely.
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BROWNER than the hazel-husk, swifter than the wind,
Though you turn from heath and hill, we are hard behind,
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OVER the field where the grass is cool,
(Follow the road who must !)
With a song for the beech and the brown pool,
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MY counterpane is soft as silk,
My blankets white as creamy milk.
The hay was soft to Him, I know,
Our little Lord of long ago.
...