Ada Langworthy Collier - Lilith

Lilith forever out. From peace afar,

Anger and pride shall lead through distant ways

Thy feet reluctant, in the evil days.

All is decreed. At yonder southern gate

Behold! waits even now my princely mate.

Thou can’st not tell which hath in our far land

The highest place. Nay; nor, indeed, whose hand

Hath grasped the noblest fame; nor yet divine

Whose brows enwound with honor, brightest shine.

In pleasant labor lurks no thought of pain;

The greatest loss oft brings the noblest gain;

The heart’s warm pulse feels not one throb of strife,

And Love is holiest crown of human life.

Ere thou didst sleep, beyond the rim of night

I heard a voice that sang. The carol light,

Scarce earth-born seemed. So sweet the matchless strain,

Its cadence weird, lowly to breathe again,

Wrapt echo, listening, half forgot; and o’er

And o’er, as joyous birds unprisoned soar,

The free notes rose. And in the silence wide,

Across the seas, across the night, I cried:

O sinless soul, whose clear voice blithely rings

’Gainst the blue verge of stars! ’Tis Lilith sings

The happy song of love. O Love! the tint

Of light divine thou wearest. Thou hast no hint

Of storm or turmoil, or of Sin’s rough ways,

Whose feet to heaven climb, through darkest maze.

Ah, Lilith, sure the love that basely weighs,

That stoops to count its gifts, and hoarding, says,

‘Such and so many, these indeed are mine;

I hold my treasure dear, nor covet thine;’

This is not love; ’tis Thrift in borrowed dress,

Deceiving thee. Love giveth free largess

With open hand, clean as the whitest day;

Yea, that it gave, forgetteth it straightway.

Beyond these walls dwells bliss that lives not here?

When thou hast bartered peace, outshining clear

And storm-tossed wide, art wildly driven hence,

The outer world gives thee no recompense.

Each shining sphere that trembles in blue space

Hath orbit true—its own familiar place.

Nor doth the planet pale that gems the night

Reel wanton down, the smallest star to smite.

No twining vine, tendril, or springing shoot

Ere taught thee so; for bud and leaf and root

Doth its best self lift upward into light,

Yet climbing still, scorns not the sacred right

That shrines its fellow.

“So pattering rains

The dark roots drink—and healthful juice slow drains

Deep ’neath the mould; and with their secret toil

Bear stainless, leaf and flow’r above the soil.

Noblest the soul that self hath most forgot;

Strongest the self which hath most humbly wrought;

Purest the soul that in full light serene,

Unquestioning, enwrapt, God’s field doth glean.

I have seen worlds far hence; thy tender feet

Bleeding, will tread their stony ways. And sweet

Is love. And wedded love, grown cold and rude,

More bitter-seeming makes dull solitude.

Security is sweet; and light and warm

The young heart beats, close shut from every harm.”

“Yet,” Lilith answered slow, “in that still night

Ere He, the garden’s Lord, passed from our sight,

Hast thou forgot his words? ‘Lo this fair spot

Made for your pleasance; see ye mar it not,

Oh, twin-born pair! So richly dight with grace

Of soul and stature; unto whom the place

I give. Together rule. Bear equal sway

O’er all that live herein.’ Hath Lilith sought

A solitary reign? Hath she in aught

Offended? Nay; ’tis Adam who doth break

The compact. Therefore, unhindered let me take

My way far hence. I shall not vex his soul

With fretful plaints, where unknown stars shall roll,

Far, far away,” she sighed.

“Yet ere these bounds

Thy feet pass, linger. Lilith, list glad sounds

That greet thine ear. Slow cycles will pass on

And in the time-to-be-bright years, grow wan;

Old planets fade, new stars shall dimly burn,

But not to Eden’s peace shalt thou return.

Oft from thy yearning heart glad hope shall fail.

Thy fruit of life lift bloom all sere and pale.

Certain, small comfort bides, when joy is gone,

In Great or Less. Grim Sorrow waits to lead thee on.

Sorrow! Thou hast not seen her pallid face.

In thy most troubled dream she had no place”—

“Nay, I depart,” she said, with lips grown chill.

“Fearless and free, exiled, but princess still.”

“I may not hinder thee,” the Angel sighed;

“No soul unwilling here may ever bide.”

Slow swung the verdant gates neath saddest eyes.

Lilith forever lost fair Paradise.

Table of Contents

Soft stealing through the shade, and skirting swift

The walls of Paradise, through night’s dark rift

Lilith fled far; nor stopped lest deadly snare

Or peril by the wayside lurked.

The air

Grew chill. Loud beat her heart, as through the wind

Echoed, unseen, pursuing feet, behind.

Adown the pathway of the mist she passed,

And reached a weird, strange land at last.

When morning flecked the dappled sky with red,

And odors sweet from waking flowers were shed,

Lilith beheld a plain, outstretching wide,

With distant mountains seamed.

Afar, a silvery tide

The blue shore kissed. And in that tropic glow

Dim islands shone, palm-fringed, and low.

In nearer space, like scarlet arrows flew

Strange birds, or ’mong the reedy fens, or through

Tall trees, of unknown leafage, glancing, went.

Now Lilith seaward passed, and stooping, bent

Her hollowed hand above the wave, and quaffed;

For she was spent with wanderings wide. Loud laughed

She then, beholding on that silent shore

Rare shells, that still faint in their pink lips bore

Wild ocean-songs; and precious stones, that bright

That dim sea’s marge, deep in the land of night

Thick strewed.

Then glad, she lifted shining eyes,

Loud crying there, “O Lilith, now arise,

Great queen-triumphant! See how wildly fair

Before me lies my realm! And from its air

Soft, sensuous, new life as ruddy wine,

My spirit drinks. Nor beauty so divine

Hath Eden’s self. Look, where upon the sands

The garish mosses spread with dainty hands,

Like goblin network fine, each fairy frond.

And dusky trees shut in broad fields beyond,

And hang long trembling garlands, age-grown-gray,

From topmost boughs adown, athwart the day;

And sweet amid these wilds, bright dewy bells

Ring summer chimes. And soft in fragrant dells,

’Mong tender leaves, great spikes of scarlet flaunt

About the pools—the errant wild bees’ haunt—

And thick with bramble-blooms pink petals starred,

And dew-stained buds of blue, the velvet sward.

Scarce ripple stirred the sea; and inland wend

Far bays and sedgy ponds; and rolling rivers bend.

A land of leaf and fruitage in the glow

Of palest glamours steeped. And far and low

Great purple isles; and further still a rim

Of sunset-tinted hills, that softly dim

Shine ’gainst the day. “O world, new found,” she said,

“With treasures heaped and odors rare, ’mong flowers shed,

For whose dear sake I came o’er flinty ways,

And paths with danger fraught; ’mong brambly sprays,

With bleeding feet, and shoulders thorn-pierced deep.

But perils past, fade fast. And I will weep

My Eden lost no more.” And sweet and low

As one who dreams, she said, “For now I know

These mountain heights, these level plains, are mine.”

She ceased, and inland quickly turned. “Fair shine