Ethel Turner

A Trembling Star

"There is my little trembling star," she said.
 I looked; once more
The tender sea had put the sun to bed,
 And heaven's floor
    Was grey.

And nowhere yet in all that young night sky
 Was any star,
But one that hung above the sea. Not high,
 Nor very far
    Away.

"I watch it every night," she said, and crept
 Within my arm.
"Soft little star, I wish the angels kept
 It safe from harm
    Alway.

"I know it is afraid," she said; her eyes
 Held a sweet tear.
"They send it all alone into the skies,
 No big stars near,
    To stay.

"They push it out before the sweet, kind moon
 Lights up the sea.
They laugh because it fears the dark. `Soon, soon,
 You'll braver be,'
    They say.

"One night I climbed far up that high white tree
 Beside the beach,
And tried to stretch my hand across the sea
 And tried to reach
    The grey.

"For something made me feel my heart would break
 Unless that night
I in my hand my trembling star could take
 And kiss its fright
    Away.

"There only blew a strange wind chillily,
 And clouds were swept.
The angels would not let my own star see
 That someone wept.
    I pray

"To Christ, who hears my little prayers each night,
 That He will seek
Through all His skies for that sweet, frightened light,
 And stoop His cheek
    And say

"`My angels must not send so frail a thing
 To light the West.
Lift up the little trembling star to cling
 About my breast
    Alway.'"

`Oh, if that Rainbow up there!'

Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Spanning the sky past the hill,
Slenderly, tenderly fair
Shining with colours that thrill,
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Just for a moment could reach
Through the wet slope of the air
Here where I stand on the beach!

Here where the waves wash the strand,
Swing itself lovingly low,
Let me catch fast with one hand,
Climb its frail rigging and go.
Climb its frail rigging and go?
Where is its haven of rest?
Out in the gleam and the glow
Of the blood-red waves of the West?

Or where the isles of the dawn
Lie on an amethyst sea,
Does it drift, pale and forlorn,
Ghost of the glory I see?
Is there, ah, is there a land
Such as the Icelanders say,
Or past the West's ruddy strand
Or on the edge of the day,

Some undiscovered clime
Seen through a cloud's sudden rift,
Where all the rainbows of Time
Slowly and silently drift?
Some happy port of a sea
Never a world's sail has made,
Where till the earth shadows flee
Never a rainbow may fade.

Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Just for a moment would reach,
Through the wet slope of the air
Here where I stand on the beach.
Here where the waves wash the strand
Swing itself lovingly low,
Let me catch fast with one hand,
Climb its frail rigging and go!