Prison

In the prison-house of the dark
    I lay with open eyes,
And pale beyond the pale windows
    I saw the dawn rise.
From past the bounds of space
    Where earthly vapours climb,
There stirred the voice I shall not hear
    On this side Time.
There is one death for the body,
    And one death for the heart,
And one prayer for the hope of the end,
    When some links part.
Christ, from uncounted leagues,
Beyond the sun and moon,
Strike with the sword of Thine own pity -
    Bring the dawn soon.

Violet Jacob

Violet Jacob was a Scottish writer celebrated for her poetry and historical novels. Writing in both English and Scots, she is best known for her collection of poems 'Songs of Angus' published in 1915. Jacob's work captures the essence of rural Scotland and its people, with a strong emphasis on local dialects and traditions. In addition to her poetry, she also wrote several novels, short stories, and a memoir. Her legacy remains significant in Scottish literature.

Violet Jacob

The Field By The Lirk O' The Hill

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

The Howe O' The Mearns

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

The Wild Geese

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

Jeemsie Miller

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

English

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Armed

Give me to-night to hide me in the shade,
    That neither moon nor star
May see the secret place where I am laid,
    Nor watch me from afar.

Let not the dark its prying ghosts employ
    To peer on my retreat,
And see the fragments of my broken toy
    Lie scattered at my feet.

I fashioned it, that idol of my own,
    Of metal strange and bright;
I made my toy a god - I raised a throne
    To honour my delight.

This haunted byway of the grove was lit
    With lamps my hand had trimmed,
Before the altar in the midst of it
    I kept their flame undimmed.

My steps turned ever to the hidden shrine;
    Aware or unaware,
My soul dwelt only in that spot divine,
    And now a wreck lies there.

Give me to-night to w...

Violet Jacob

The Scarlet Lilies

I see her as though she were standing yet
    In her tower at the end of the town,
When the hot sun mounts and when dusk comes down,
    With her two hands laid on the parapet;
The curve of her throat as she turns this way,
    The bend of her body - I see it all;
And the watching eyes that look day by day
    O'er the flood that runs by the city wall.

The winds by the river would come and go
    On the flame-red gown she was wont to wear,
And the scarlet lilies that crowned her hair,
    And the scarlet lilies that grew below.
I used to lie like a wolf in his lair,
    With a burning heart and a soul in thrall,
Gazing across in a fume of despair
    O'er the flood that runs by the river wall.

I saw when he came with his tiger's eyes,
    That...

Violet Jacob

Presage

The year declines, and yet there is
    A clearness, as of hinted spring;
And chilly, like a virgin's kiss,
    The cold light touches everything.

The world seems dazed with purity,
    There hangs, this spell-bound afternoon,
Beyond the naked cherry tree
    The new-wrought sickle of the moon.

What is this thraldom, pale and still,
    That holds so passionless a sway?
Lies death in this ethereal chill,
    New life, or prelude of decay?

In the frail rapture of the sky
    There bodes, transfigured, far aloof,
The veil that hides eternity,
    With life for warp and death for woof.

We see the presage - not with eyes,
    But dimly, with the shrinking soul -
Scarce guessing, in this fateful guise,
    The glory that enwra...

Violet Jacob

Unity

I dreamed that life and time and space were one,
    And the pure trance of dawn;
    The increase drawn
From all the journeys of the travelling sun,
And the long mysteries of sound and sight,
    The whispering rains,
And far, calm waters set in lonely plains,
    And cry of birds at night.

I dreamed that these and love and death were one,
    And all eternity,
    The life to be
Therewith entwined, throughout the ages spun;
And so with Grief, my playmate; him I knew
    One with the rest, -
One with the mounting day, the east and west -
    Lord, is it true?
Lord, do I dream? Methinks a key unlocks
Some dungeon door, in thrall of blackened towers,
On ecstasies, half hid, like chill white flowers
Blown in the secret places of the rocks.

Violet Jacob

Fragment III - Years After

Fade off the ridges, rosy light,
Fade slowly from the last gray height,
And leave no gloomy cloud to grieve
The heart of this enchanted eve!

All things beneath the still sky seem
Bound by the spell of a sweet dream;
In the dusk forest, dreamingly,
Droops slowly down each plumèd head;
The river flowing softly by
Dreams of the sea; the quiet sea
Dreams of the unseen stars; and I
Am dreaming of the dreamless dead.

The river has a silken sheen,
But red rays of the sunset stain
Its pictures, from the steep shore caught,
Till shades of rock, and fern, and tree
Glow like the figures on a pane
Of some old church by twilight seen,
Or like the rich devices wrought
In mediaeval tapestry.

All lonely in a drifting boat
Through shi...

Victor James Daley

Frostbound

When winter's pulse seems dead beneath the snow,
    And has no throb to give,
Warm your cold heart at mine, beloved, and so
    Shall your heart live.

For mine is fire - a furnace strong and red;
    Look up into my eyes,
There shall you see a flame to make the dead
    Take life and rise.

My eyes are brown, and yours are still and grey,
    Still as the frostbound lake
Whose depths are sleeping in the icy sway,
    And will not wake.

Soundless they are below the leaden sky,
    Bound with that silent chain;
Yet chains may fall, and those that fettered lie
    May live again.

Yes, turn away, grey eyes, you dare not face
    In mine the flame of life;
When frost meets fire, 'tis but a little space
    That ends the strife...

Violet Jacob