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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/16229-8.txt b/16229-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca26361 --- /dev/null +++ b/16229-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14824 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems of Henry Van Dyke, by Henry Van Dyke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poems of Henry Van Dyke + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Release Date: July 7, 2005 [EBook #16229] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF HENRY VAN DYKE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Daniel Emerson Griffith and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +BY HENRY VAN DYKE + + Six Days of the Week + + Little Rivers + Fisherman's Luck + Days Off + Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land + + The Ruling Passion + The Blue Flower + The Unknown Quantity + The Valley of Vision + + Camp-Fires and Guide-Posts + Companionable Books + + Poems, Collection in one volume + + Songs out of Doors + Golden Stars + The Red Flower + The Grand Canyon, and Other Poems + The White Bees, and Other Poems + The Builders, and Other Poems + Music, and Other Poems + The Toiling of Felix, and Other Poems + The House of Rimmon + + Studies in Tennyson + Poems of Tennyson + Fighting for Peace + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + + + +THE POEMS OF + +HENRY VAN DYKE + + +A NEW AND REVISED EDITION +WITH MANY HITHERTO UNCOLLECTED + + +LONDON ARTHUR F. BIRD MCMXXV + +[From an edition:] +Printed by The Scribner Press, +New York, U.S.A. + + +Dedicated in Friendship to + +KATRINA TRASK + +AND + +JOHN HUSTON FINLEY + + + + +CONTENTS + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +EARLY VERSES + + The After-Echo + Dulciora + Three Alpine Sonnets + Matins + The Parting and the Coming Guest + If All the Skies + Wings of a Dove + The Fall of the Leaves + A Snow-Song + Roslin and Hawthornden + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +LATER POEMS + + When Tulips Bloom + The Whip-Poor-Will + The Lily of Yorrow + The Veery + The Song-Sparrow + The Maryland Yellow-Throat + A November Daisy + The Angler's Reveille + The Ruby-Crowned Kinglet + School + Indian Summer + Spring in the North + Spring in the South + A Noon Song + Light Between the Trees + The Hermit Thrush + Turn o' the Tide + Sierra Madre + The Grand Canyon + The Heavenly Hills of Holland + Flood-Tide of Flowers + God of the Open Air + + +NARRATIVE POEMS + + The Toiling of Felix + Vera + Another Chance + A Legend of Service + The White Bees + New Year's Eve + The Vain King + The Foolish Fir-Tree + "Gran' Boule" + Heroes of the "Titanic" + The Standard-Bearer + The Proud Lady + + +LABOUR AND ROMANCE + + A Mile with Me + The Three Best Things + Reliance + Doors of Daring + The Child in the Garden + Love's Reason + The Echo in the Heart + "Undine" + "Rencontre" + Love in a Look + My April Lady + A Lover's Envy + Fire-Fly City + The Gentle Traveller + Nepenthe + Day and Night + Hesper + Arrival + Departure + The Black Birds + Without Disguise + An Hour + "Rappelle-Toi" + Love's Nearness + Two Songs of Heine + Eight Echoes from the Poems of Auguste Angellier + Rappel d'Amour + The River of Dreams + + +HEARTH AND ALTAR + + A Home Song + "Little Boatie" + A Mother's Birthday + Transformation + Rendezvous + Gratitude + Peace + Santa Christina + The Bargain + To the Child Jesus + Bitter-Sweet + Hymn of Joy + Song of a Pilgrim-Soul + Ode to Peace + Three Prayers for Sleep and Waking + Portrait and Reality + The Wind of Sorrow + Hide and Seek + Autumn in the Garden + The Message + Dulcis Memoria + The Window + Christmas Tears + Dorothea, 1888-1912 + + +EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND INSCRIPTIONS + + For Katrina's Sun-Dial + For Katrina's Window + For the Friends at Hurstmont + The Sun-Dial at Morven + The Sun-Dial at Wells College + To Mark Twain + Stars and the Soul + To Julia Marlowe + To Joseph Jefferson + The Mocking-Bird + The Empty Quatrain + Pan Learns Music + The Shepherd of Nymphs + Echoes from the Greek Anthology + One World + Joy and Duty + The Prison and the Angel + The Way + Love and Light + _Facta non Verba_ + Four Things + The Great River + Inscription for a Tomb in England + The Talisman + Thorn and Rose + "The Signs" + + +PRO PATRIA + + Patria + America + The Ancestral Dwellings + Hudson's Last Voyage + Sea-Gulls of Manhattan + A Ballad of Claremont Hill + Urbs Coronata + Mercy for Armenia + Sicily, December, 1908 + "Come Back Again, Jeanne d'Arc" + National Monuments + The Monument of Francis Makemie + The Statue of Sherman by St. Gaudens + "America for Me" + The Builders + Spirit of the Everlasting Boy + Texas + Who Follow the Flag + Stain not the Sky + Peace-Hymn of the Republic + + +THE RED FLOWER AND GOLDEN STARS + + The Red Flower + A Scrap of Paper + Stand Fast + Lights Out + Remarks About Kings + Might and Right + The Price of Peace + Storm-Music + The Bells of Malines + Jeanne d'Arc Returns + The Name of France + America's Prosperity + The Glory of Ships + Mare Liberum + "Liberty Enlightening the World" + The Oxford Thrushes + Homeward Bound + The Winds of War-News + Righteous Wrath + The Peaceful Warrior + From Glory Unto Glory + Britain, France, America + The Red Cross + Easter Road + America's Welcome Home + The Surrender of the German Fleet + Golden Stars + In the Blue Heaven + A Shrine in the Pantheon + + +IN PRAISE OF POETS + + Mother Earth + Milton + Wordsworth + Keats + Shelley + Robert Browning + Tennyson + "In Memoriam" + Victor Hugo + Longfellow + Thomas Bailey Aldrich + Edmund Clarence Stedman + To James Whitcomb Riley + Richard Watson Gilder + The Valley of Vain Verses + + +MUSIC + + Music + Master of Music + The Pipes o' Pan + To a Young Girl Singing + The Old Flute + The First Bird o' Spring + + +THE HOUSE OF RIMMON + +A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS + + The House of Rimmon + Dramatis Personæ + + +APPENDIX + +CARMINA FESTIVA + + The Little-Neck Clam + A Fairy Tale + The Ballad of the Solemn Ass + A Ballad of Santa Claus + Ars Agricolaris + Angler's Fireside Song + How Spring Comes to Shasta Jim + A Bunch of Trout-Flies + + +Index of First Lines + + + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +EARLY VERSES + + + +THE AFTER-ECHO + + + How long the echoes love to play + Around the shore of silence, as a wave + Retreating circles down the sand! + One after one, with sweet delay, + The mellow sounds that cliff and island gave, + Have lingered in the crescent bay, + Until, by lightest breezes fanned, + They float far off beyond the dying day + And leave it still as death. + But hark,-- + Another singing breath + Comes from the edge of dark; + A note as clear and slow + As falls from some enchanted bell, + Or spirit, passing from the world below, + That whispers back, Farewell. + + So in the heart, + When, fading slowly down the past, + Fond memories depart, + And each that leaves it seems the last; + Long after all the rest are flown, + Returns a solitary tone,-- + The after-echo of departed years,-- + And touches all the soul to tears. + +1871. + + + +DULCIORA + + + A tear that trembles for a little while + Upon the trembling eyelid, till the world + Wavers within its circle like a dream, + Holds more of meaning in its narrow orb + Than all the distant landscape that it blurs. + + A smile that hovers round a mouth beloved, + Like the faint pulsing of the Northern Light, + And grows in silence to an amber dawn + Born in the sweetest depths of trustful eyes, + Is dearer to the soul than sun or star. + + A joy that falls into the hollow heart + From some far-lifted height of love unseen, + Unknown, makes a more perfect melody + Than hidden brooks that murmur in the dusk, + Or fall athwart the cliff with wavering gleam. + + Ah, not for their own sake are earth and sky + And the fair ministries of Nature dear, + But as they set themselves unto the tune + That fills our life; as light mysterious + Flows from within and glorifies the world. + + For so a common wayside blossom, touched + With tender thought, assumes a grace more sweet + Than crowns the royal lily of the South; + And so a well-remembered perfume seems + The breath of one who breathes in Paradise. + +1872. + + + +THREE ALPINE SONNETS + + +I + +THE GLACIER + + At dawn in silence moves the mighty stream, + The silver-crested waves no murmur make; + But far away the avalanches wake + The rumbling echoes, dull as in a dream; + Their momentary thunders, dying, seem + To fall into the stillness, flake by flake, + And leave the hollow air with naught to break + The frozen spell of solitude supreme. + + At noon unnumbered rills begin to spring + Beneath the burning sun, and all the walls + Of all the ocean-blue crevasses ring + With liquid lyrics of their waterfalls; + As if a poet's heart had felt the glow + Of sovereign love, and song began to flow. + +Zermatt, 1872. + + +II + +THE SNOW-FIELD + + White Death had laid his pall upon the plain, + And crowned the mountain-peaks like monarchs dead; + The vault of heaven was glaring overhead + With pitiless light that filled my eyes with pain; + And while I vainly longed, and looked in vain + For sign or trace of life, my spirit said, + "Shall any living thing that dares to tread + This royal lair of Death escape again?" + + But even then I saw before my feet + A line of pointed footprints in the snow: + Some roving chamois, but an hour ago, + Had passed this way along his journey fleet, + And left a message from a friend unknown + To cheer my pilgrim-heart, no more alone. + +Zermatt, 1872. + + +III + +MOVING BELLS + + I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair + And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells, + To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells + Go chiming after her across the fair + And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare + Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells, + And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells + Of peace are woven through the purple air. + + Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems + To walk before the dark by falling rills, + And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams; + She opens all the doors of night, and fills + With moving bells the music of my dreams, + That wander far among the sleeping hills. + +Gstaad, August, 1909. + + + +MATINS + + + Flowers rejoice when night is done, + Lift their heads to greet the sun; + Sweetest looks and odours raise, + In a silent hymn of praise. + + So my heart would turn away + From the darkness to the day; + Lying open in God's sight + Like a flower in the light. + + + +THE PARTING AND THE COMING GUEST + + + Who watched the worn-out Winter die? + Who, peering through the window-pane + At nightfall, under sleet and rain + Saw the old graybeard totter by? + Who listened to his parting sigh, + The sobbing of his feeble breath, + His whispered colloquy with Death, + And when his all of life was done + Stood near to bid a last good-bye? + Of all his former friends not one + Saw the forsaken Winter die. + + Who welcomed in the maiden Spring? + Who heard her footfall, swift and light + As fairy-dancing in the night? + Who guessed what happy dawn would bring + The flutter of her bluebird's wing, + The blossom of her mayflower-face + To brighten every shady place? + One morning, down the village street, + "Oh, here am I," we heard her sing,-- + And none had been awake to greet + The coming of the maiden Spring. + + But look, her violet eyes are wet + With bright, unfallen, dewy tears; + And in her song my fancy hears + A note of sorrow trembling yet. + Perhaps, beyond the town, she met + Old Winter as he limped away + To die forlorn, and let him lay + His weary head upon her knee, + And kissed his forehead with regret + For one so gray and lonely,--see, + Her eyes with tender tears are wet. + + And so, by night, while we were all at rest, + I think the coming sped the parting guest. + +1873. + + + +IF ALL THE SKIES + + + If all the skies were sunshine, + Our faces would be fain + To feel once more upon them + The cooling plash of rain. + + If all the world were music, + Our hearts would often long + For one sweet strain of silence. + To break the endless song. + + If life were always merry, + Our souls would seek relief, + And rest from weary laughter + In the quiet arms of grief. + + + +WINGS OF A DOVE + + +I + + At sunset, when the rosy light was dying + Far down the pathway of the west, + I saw a lonely dove in silence flying, + To be at rest. + + Pilgrim of air, I cried, could I but borrow + Thy wandering wings, thy freedom blest, + I'd fly away from every careful sorrow, + And find my rest. + + +II + + But when the filmy veil of dusk was falling, + Home flew the dove to seek his nest, + Deep in the forest where his mate was calling + To love and rest. + + Peace, heart of mine! no longer sigh to wander; + Lose not thy life in barren quest. + There are no happy islands over yonder; + Come home and rest. + +1874. + + + +THE FALL OF THE LEAVES + + +I + + In warlike pomp, with banners flowing, + The regiments of autumn stood: + I saw their gold and scarlet glowing + From every hillside, every wood. + + Above the sea the clouds were keeping + Their secret leaguer, gray and still; + They sent their misty vanguard creeping + With muffled step from hill to hill. + + All day the sullen armies drifted + Athwart the sky with slanting rain; + At sunset for a space they lifted, + With dusk they settled down again. + + +II + + At dark the winds began to blow + With mutterings distant, low; + From sea and sky they called their strength + Till with an angry, broken roar, + Like billows on an unseen shore, + Their fury burst at length. + + I heard through the night + The rush and the clamour; + The pulse of the fight + Like blows of Thor's hammer; + The pattering flight + Of the leaves, and the anguished + Moan of the forest vanquished. + + At daybreak came a gusty song: + "Shout! the winds are strong. + The little people of the leaves are fled. + Shout! The Autumn is dead!" + + +III + + The storm is ended! The impartial sun + Laughs down upon the battle lost and won, + And crowns the triumph of the cloudy host + In rolling lines retreating to the coast. + + But we, fond lovers of the woodland shade, + And grateful friends of every fallen leaf, + Forget the glories of the cloud-parade, + And walk the ruined woods in quiet grief. + + For ever so our thoughtful hearts repeat + On fields of triumph dirges of defeat; + And still we turn on gala-days to tread + Among the rustling memories of the dead. + +1874. + + + +A SNOW-SONG + + + Does the snow fall at sea? + Yes, when the north winds blow, + When the wild clouds fly low, + Out of each gloomy wing, + Silently glimmering, + Over the stormy sea + Falleth the snow. + + Does the snow hide the sea? + Nay, on the tossing plains + Never a flake remains; + Drift never resteth there; + Vanishing everywhere, + Into the hungry sea + Falleth the snow. + + What means the snow at sea? + Whirled in the veering blast, + Thickly the flakes drive past; + Each like a childish ghost + Wavers, and then is lost; + In the forgetful sea + Fadeth the snow. + +1875. + + + +ROSLIN AND HAWTHORNDEN + + + Fair Roslin Chapel, how divine + The art that reared thy costly shrine! + Thy carven columns must have grown + By magic, like a dream in stone. + + Yet not within thy storied wall + Would I in adoration fall, + So gladly as within the glen + That leads to lovely Hawthornden. + + A long-drawn aisle, with roof of green + And vine-clad pillars, while between, + The Esk runs murmuring on its way, + In living music night and day. + + Within the temple of this wood + The martyrs of the covenant stood, + And rolled the psalm, and poured the prayer, + From Nature's solemn altar-stair. + +Edinburgh, 1877. + + + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +LATER POEMS + + + +WHEN TULIPS BLOOM + + +I + + When tulips bloom in Union Square, + And timid breaths of vernal air + Go wandering down the dusty town, + Like children lost in Vanity Fair; + + When every long, unlovely row + Of westward houses stands aglow, + And leads the eyes to sunset skies + Beyond the hills where green trees grow; + + Then weary seems the street parade, + And weary books, and weary trade: + I'm only wishing to go a-fishing; + For this the month of May was made. + + +II + + I guess the pussy-willows now + Are creeping out on every bough + Along the brook; and robins look + For early worms behind the plough. + + The thistle-birds have changed their dun, + For yellow coats, to match the sun; + And in the same array of flame + The Dandelion Show's begun. + + The flocks of young anemones + Are dancing round the budding trees: + Who can help wishing to go a-fishing + In days as full of joy as these? + + +III + + I think the meadow-lark's clear sound + Leaks upward slowly from the ground, + While on the wing the bluebirds ring + Their wedding-bells to woods around. + + The flirting chewink calls his dear + Behind the bush; and very near, + Where water flows, where green grass grows, + Song-sparrows gently sing, "Good cheer." + + And, best of all, through twilight's calm + The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm. + How much I'm wishing to go a-fishing + In days so sweet with music's balm! + + +IV + + 'Tis not a proud desire of mine; + I ask for nothing superfine; + No heavy weight, no salmon great, + To break the record, or my line. + + Only an idle little stream, + Whose amber waters softly gleam, + Where I may wade through woodland shade, + And cast the fly, and loaf, and dream: + + Only a trout or two, to dart + From foaming pools, and try my art: + 'Tis all I'm wishing--old-fashioned fishing, + And just a day on Nature's heart. + +1894. + + + +THE WHIP-POOR-WILL + + + Do you remember, father,-- + It seems so long ago,-- + The day we fished together + Along the Pocono? + At dusk I waited for you, + Beside the lumber-mill, + And there I heard a hidden bird + That chanted, "whip-poor-will," + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + The place was all deserted; + The mill-wheel hung at rest; + The lonely star of evening + Was throbbing in the west; + The veil of night was falling; + The winds were folded still; + And everywhere the trembling air + Re-echoed "whip-poor-will!" + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + You seemed so long in coming, + I felt so much alone; + The wide, dark world was round me, + And life was all unknown; + The hand of sorrow touched me, + And made my senses thrill + With all the pain that haunts the strain + Of mournful whip-poor-will. + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + What knew I then of trouble? + An idle little lad, + I had not learned the lessons + That make men wise and sad. + I dreamed of grief and parting, + And something seemed to fill + My heart with tears, while in my ears + Resounded "whip-poor-will." + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + 'Twas but a cloud of sadness, + That lightly passed away; + But I have learned the meaning + Of sorrow, since that day. + For nevermore at twilight, + Beside the silent mill, + I'll wait for you, in the falling dew, + And hear the whip-poor-will. + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + But if you still remember + In that fair land of light, + The pains and fears that touch us + Along this edge of night, + I think all earthly grieving, + And all our mortal ill, + To you must seem like a sad boy's dream. + Who hears the whip-poor-will. + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + A passing thrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + +1894. + + + +THE LILY OF YORROW + + + Deep in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing; + Blue is its cup as the sky, and with mystical odour o'erflowing; + Faintly it falls through the shadowy glades when the south wind is + blowing. + + Sweet are the primroses pale and the violets after a shower; + Sweet are the borders of pinks and the blossoming grapes on the bower; + Sweeter by far is the breath of that far-away woodland flower. + + Searching and strange in its sweetness, it steals like a perfume + enchanted + Under the arch of the forest, and all who perceive it are haunted, + Seeking and seeking for ever, till sight of the lily is granted. + + Who can describe how it grows, with its chalice of lazuli leaning + Over a crystalline spring, where the ferns and the mosses are greening? + Who can imagine its beauty, or utter the depth of its meaning? + + Calm of the journeying stars, and repose of the mountains olden, + Joy of the swift-running rivers, and glory of sunsets golden, + Secrets that cannot be told in the heart of the flower are holden. + + Surely to see it is peace and the crown of a life-long endeavour; + Surely to pluck it is gladness,--but they who have found it can never + Tell of the gladness and peace: they are hid from our vision for ever. + + 'Twas but a moment ago that a comrade was walking near me: + Turning aside from the pathway he murmured a greeting to cheer me,-- + Then he was lost in the shade, and I called but he did not hear me. + + Why should I dream he is dead, and bewail him with passionate sorrow? + Surely I know there is gladness in finding the lily of Yorrow: + He has discovered it first, and perhaps I shall find it to-morrow. + +1894. + + + +THE VEERY + + + The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring, + When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring. + So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie; + I longed to hear a simpler strain,--the wood-notes of the veery. + + The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather; + It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together; + He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie; + I only know one song more sweet,--the vespers of the veery. + + In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure, + I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure: + The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery, + And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery. + + But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing; + New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing: + And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary, + I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery. + +1895. + + + +THE SONG-SPARROW + + + There is a bird I know so well, + It seems as if he must have sung + Beside my crib when I was young; + Before I knew the way to spell + The name of even the smallest bird, + His gentle-joyful song I heard. + Now see if you can tell, my dear. + What bird it is that, every year, + Sings "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + He comes in March, when winds are strong, + And snow returns to hide the earth; + But still he warms his heart with mirth, + And waits for May. He lingers long + While flowers fade; and every day + Repeats his small, contented lay; + As if to say, we need not fear + The season's change, if love is here + With "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + He does not wear a Joseph's-coat + Of many colours, smart and gay; + His suit is Quaker brown and gray, + With darker patches at his throat. + And yet of all the well-dressed throng + Not one can sing so brave a song. + It makes the pride of looks appear + A vain and foolish thing, to hear + His "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + A lofty place he does not love, + But sits by choice, and well at ease, + In hedges, and in little trees + That stretch their slender arms above + The meadow-brook; and there he sings + Till all the field with pleasure rings; + And so he tells in every ear, + That lowly homes to heaven are near + In "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + I like the tune, I like the words; + They seem so true, so free from art, + So friendly, and so full of heart, + That if but one of all the birds + Could be my comrade everywhere, + My little brother of the air, + I'd choose the song-sparrow, my dear, + Because he'd bless me, every year, + With "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + +1895. + + + +THE MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT + + + When May bedecks the naked trees + With tassels and embroideries, + And many blue-eyed violets beam + Along the edges of the stream, + I hear a voice that seems to say, + Now near at hand, now far away, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery._" + + An incantation so serene, + So innocent, befits the scene: + There's magic in that small bird's note-- + See, there he flits--the Yellow-throat; + A living sunbeam, tipped with wings, + A spark of light that shines and sings + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery._" + + You prophet with a pleasant name, + If out of Mary-land you came, + You know the way that thither goes + Where Mary's lovely garden grows: + Fly swiftly back to her, I pray, + And try to call her down this way, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + + Tell her to leave her cockle-shells, + And all her little silver bells + That blossom into melody, + And all her maids less fair than she. + She does not need these pretty things, + For everywhere she comes, she brings + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + + The woods are greening overhead, + And flowers adorn each mossy bed; + The waters babble as they run-- + One thing is lacking, only one: + If Mary were but here to-day, + I would believe your charming lay, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + + Along the shady road I look-- + Who's coming now across the brook? + A woodland maid, all robed in white-- + The leaves dance round her with delight, + The stream laughs out beneath her feet-- + Sing, merry bird, the charm's complete, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + +1895. + + + +A NOVEMBER DAISY + + + Afterthought of summer's bloom! + Late arrival at the feast, + Coming when the songs have ceased + And the merry guests departed, + Leaving but an empty room, + Silence, solitude, and gloom,-- + Are you lonely, heavy-hearted; + You, the last of all your kind, + Nodding in the autumn-wind; + Now that all your friends are flown, + Blooming late and all alone? + + Nay, I wrong you, little flower, + Reading mournful mood of mine + In your looks, that give no sign + Of a spirit dark and cheerless! + You possess the heavenly power + That rejoices in the hour. + Glad, contented, free, and fearless, + Lift a sunny face to heaven + When a sunny day is given! + Make a summer of your own, + Blooming late and all alone! + + Once the daisies gold and white + Sea-like through the meadow rolled: + Once my heart could hardly hold + All its pleasures. I remember, + In the flood of youth's delight + Separate joys were lost to sight. + That was summer! Now November + Sets the perfect flower apart; + Gives each blossom of the heart + Meaning, beauty, grace unknown,-- + Blooming late and all alone. + +November, 1899. + + + +THE ANGLER'S REVEILLE + + + What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night, + And all the little watchman-stars have fallen asleep in light, + 'Tis then a merry wind awakes, and runs from tree to tree, + And borrows words from all the birds to sound the reveille. + + This is the carol the Robin throws + Over the edge of the valley; + Listen how boldly it flows, + Sally on sally: + _Tirra-lirra, + Early morn, + New born! + Day is near, + Clear, clear. + Down the river + All a-quiver, + Fish are breaking; + Time for waking, + Tup, tup, tup! + Do you hear? + All clear-- + Wake up!_ + + The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished with the dark, + And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark; + Now forth she fares thro' friendly woods and diamond-fields of dew, + While every voice cries out "Rejoice!" as if the world were new. + + This is the ballad the Bluebird sings, + Unto his mate replying, + Shaking the tune from his wings + While he is flying: + _Surely, surely, surely, + Life is dear + Even here. + Blue above, + You to love, + Purely, purely, purely._ + + There's wild azalea on the hill, and iris down the dell, + And just one spray of lilac still abloom beside the well; + The columbine adorns the rocks, the laurel buds grow pink, + Along the stream white arums gleam, and violets bend to drink. + + This is the song of the Yellow-throat, + Fluttering gaily beside you; + Hear how each voluble note + Offers to guide you: + _Which way, sir? + I say, sir, + Let me teach you, + I beseech you! + Are you wishing + Jolly fishing? + This way, sir! + I'll teach you._ + + Then come, my friend, forget your foes and leave your fears behind, + And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful, quiet mind; + For be your fortune great or small, you take what God will give, + And all the day your heart will say, "'Tis luck enough to live." + + This is the song the Brown Thrush flings + Out of his thicket of roses; + Hark how it bubbles and rings, + Mark how it closes: + _Luck, luck, + What luck? + Good enough for me, + I'm alive, you see! + Sun shining, + No repining; + Never borrow + Idle sorrow; + Drop it! + Cover it up! + Hold your cup! + Joy will fill it, + Don't spill it, + Steady, be ready, + Good luck!_ + +1899. + + + +THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET + + +I + + Where's your kingdom, little king? + Where the land you call your own, + Where your palace and your throne? + Fluttering lightly on the wing + Through the blossom-world of May, + Whither lies your royal way, + Little king? + + _Far to northward lies a land + Where the trees together stand + Closely as the blades of wheat + When the summer is complete. + Rolling like an ocean wide + Over vale and mountainside, + Balsam, hemlock, spruce and pine,-- + All those mighty trees are mine. + There's a river flowing free,-- + All its waves belong to me. + There's a lake so clear and bright + Stars shine out of it all night; + Rowan-berries round it spread + Like a belt of coral red. + Never royal garden planned + Fair as my Canadian land! + There I build my summer nest, + There I reign and there I rest, + While from dawn to dark I sing, + Happy kingdom! Lucky king!_ + + +II + + Back again, my little king! + Is your happy kingdom lost + To the rebel knave, Jack Frost? + Have you felt the snow-flakes sting? + Houseless, homeless in October, + Whither now? Your plight is sober, + Exiled king! + + _Far to southward lie the regions + Where my loyal flower-legions + Hold possession of the year, + Filling every month with cheer. + Christmas wakes the winter rose; + New Year daffodils unclose; + Yellow jasmine through the wood + Flows in February flood, + Dropping from the tallest trees + Golden streams that never freeze. + Thither now I take my flight + Down the pathway of the night, + Till I see the southern moon + Glisten on the broad lagoon, + Where the cypress' dusky green, + And the dark magnolia's sheen, + Weave a shelter round my home. + There the snow-storms never come; + There the bannered mosses gray + Like a curtain gently sway, + Hanging low on every side + Round the covert where I bide, + Till the March azalea glows, + Royal red and heavenly rose, + Through the Carolina glade + Where my winter home is made. + There I hold my southern court, + Full of merriment and sport: + There I take my ease and sing, + Happy kingdom! Lucky king!_ + + +III + + Little boaster, vagrant king, + Neither north nor south is yours, + You've no kingdom that endures! + Wandering every fall and spring, + With your ruby crown so slender, + Are you only a Pretender, + Landless king? + + _Never king by right divine + Ruled a richer realm than mine! + What are lands and golden crowns, + Armies, fortresses and towns, + Jewels, sceptres, robes and rings,-- + What are these to song and wings? + Everywhere that I can fly, + There I own the earth and sky; + Everywhere that I can sing. + There I'm happy as a king._ + +1900. + + + +SCHOOL + + + I put my heart to school + In the world where men grow wise: + "Go out," I said, "and learn the rule; + Come back when you win a prize." + + My heart came back again: + "Now where is the prize?" I cried.-- + "The rule was false, and the prize was pain, + And the teacher's name was Pride." + + I put my heart to school + In the woods where veeries sing + And brooks run clear and cool, + In the fields where wild flowers spring. + + "And why do you stay so long + My heart, and where do you roam?" + The answer came with a laugh and a song,-- + "I find this school is home." + +April, 1901. + + + +INDIAN SUMMER + + + A silken curtain veils the skies, + And half conceals from pensive eyes + The bronzing tokens of the fall; + A calmness broods upon the hills, + And summer's parting dream distils + A charm of silence over all. + + The stacks of corn, in brown array, + Stand waiting through the tranquil day, + Like tattered wigwams on the plain; + The tribes that find a shelter there + Are phantom peoples, forms of air, + And ghosts of vanished joy and pain. + + At evening when the crimson crest + Of sunset passes down the West, + I hear the whispering host returning; + On far-off fields, by elm and oak, + I see the lights, I smell the smoke,-- + The Camp-fires of the Past are burning. + +_Tertius and Henry van Dyke._ + +November, 1903. + + + +SPRING IN THE NORTH + + +I + + Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, + Why the sweet Spring delays, + And where she hides,--the dear desire + Of every heart that longs + For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby fire + Of maple-buds along the misty hills, + And that immortal call which fills + The waiting wood with songs? + The snow-drops came so long ago, + It seemed that Spring was near! + But then returned the snow + With biting winds, and earth grew sere, + And sullen clouds drooped low + To veil the sadness of a hope deferred: + Then rain, rain, rain, incessant rain + Beat on the window-pane, + Through which I watched the solitary bird + That braved the tempest, buffeted and tossed + With rumpled feathers down the wind again. + Oh, were the seeds all lost + When winter laid the wild flowers in their tomb? + I searched the woods in vain + For blue hepaticas, and trilliums white, + And trailing arbutus, the Spring's delight, + Starring the withered leaves with rosy bloom. + But every night the frost + To all my longing spoke a silent nay, + And told me Spring was far away. + Even the robins were too cold to sing, + Except a broken and discouraged note,-- + Only the tuneful sparrow, on whose throat + Music has put her triple finger-print, + Lifted his head and sang my heart a hint,-- + "Wait, wait, wait! oh, wait a while for Spring!" + + +II + + But now, Carina, what divine amends + For all delay! What sweetness treasured up, + What wine of joy that blends + A hundred flavours in a single cup, + Is poured into this perfect day! + For look, sweet heart, here are the early flowers + That lingered on their way, + Thronging in haste to kiss the feet of May, + Entangled with the bloom of later hours,-- + Anemones and cinque-foils, violets blue + And white, and iris richly gleaming through + The grasses of the meadow, and a blaze + Of butter-cups and daisies in the field, + Filling the air with praise, + As if a chime of golden bells had pealed! + The frozen songs within the breast + Of silent birds that hid in leafless woods, + Melt into rippling floods + Of gladness unrepressed. + Now oriole and bluebird, thrush and lark, + Warbler and wren and vireo, + Mingle their melody; the living spark + Of Love has touched the fuel of desire, + And every heart leaps up in singing fire. + It seems as if the land + Were breathing deep beneath the sun's caress, + Trembling with tenderness, + While all the woods expand, + In shimmering clouds of rose and gold and green, + To veil a joy too sacred to be seen. + + +III + + Come, put your hand in mine, + True love, long sought and found at last, + And lead me deep into the Spring divine + That makes amends for all the wintry past. + For all the flowers and songs I feared to miss + Arrive with you; + And in the lingering pressure of your kiss + My dreams come true; + And in the promise of your generous eyes + I read the mystic sign + Of joy more perfect made + Because so long delayed, + And bliss enhanced by rapture of surprise. + Ah, think not early love alone is strong; + He loveth best whose heart has learned to wait: + Dear messenger of Spring that tarried long, + You're doubly dear because you come so late. + + + +SPRING IN THE SOUTH + + + Now in the oak the sap of life is welling, + Tho' to the bough the rusty leafage clings; + Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling; + Every little pine-wood grows alive with wings; + Blue-jays are fluttering, yodeling and crying, + Meadow-larks sailing low above the faded grass, + Red-birds whistling clear, silent robins flying,-- + Who has waked the birds up? What has come to pass? + + Last year's cotton-plants, desolately bowing, + Tremble in the March-wind, ragged and forlorn; + Red are the hillsides of the early ploughing, + Gray are the lowlands, waiting for the corn. + Earth seems asleep, but she is only feigning; + Deep in her bosom thrills a sweet unrest; + Look where the jasmine lavishly is raining + Jove's golden shower into Danäe's breast! + + Now on the plum-tree a snowy bloom is sifted, + Now on the peach-tree, the glory of the rose, + Far o'er the hills a tender haze is drifted, + Full to the brim the yellow river flows. + Dark cypress boughs with vivid jewels glisten, + Greener than emeralds shining in the sun. + Whence comes the magic? Listen, sweetheart, listen! + The mocking-bird is singing: Spring is begun. + + Hark, in his song no tremor of misgiving! + All of his heart he pours into his lay,-- + "Love, love, love, and pure delight of living: + Winter is forgotten: here's a happy day!" + Fair in your face I read the flowery presage, + Snowy on your brow and rosy on your mouth: + Sweet in your voice I hear the season's message,-- + Love, love, love, and Spring in the South! + +1904. + + + +A NOON SONG + + + There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, + For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon; + But who will give praise to the fulness of light, + And sing us a song of the glory of noon? + Oh, the high noon, the clear noon, + The noon with golden crest; + When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns + With his face to the way of the west! + + How swiftly he rose in the dawn of his strength! + How slowly he crept as the morning wore by! + Ah, steep was the climbing that led him at length + To the height of his throne in the wide summer sky. + Oh, the long toil, the slow toil, + The toil that may not rest, + Till the sun looks down from his journey's crown, + To the wonderful way of the west! + + Then a quietness falls over meadow and hill, + The wings of the wind in the forest are furled, + The river runs softly, the birds are all still, + The workers are resting all over the world. + Oh, the good hour, the kind hour, + The hour that calms the breast! + Little inn half-way on the road of the day, + Where it follows the turn to the west! + + There's a plentiful feast in the maple-tree shade, + The lilt of a song to an old-fashioned tune, + The talk of a friend, or the kiss of a maid, + To sweeten the cup that we drink to the noon. + Oh, the deep noon, the full noon, + Of all the day the best! + When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns + To his home by the way of the west! + +1906. + + + +LIGHT BETWEEN THE TREES + + + Long, long, long the trail + Through the brooding forest-gloom, + Down the shadowy, lonely vale + Into silence, like a room + Where the light of life has fled, + And the jealous curtains close + Round the passionless repose + Of the silent dead. + + Plod, plod, plod away, + Step by step in mouldering moss; + Thick branches bar the day + Over languid streams that cross + Softly, slowly, with a sound + Like a smothered weeping, + In their aimless creeping + Through enchanted ground. + + "Yield, yield, yield thy quest," + Whispers through the woodland deep; + "Come to me and be at rest; + I am slumber, I am sleep." + Then the weary feet would fail, + But the never-daunted will + Urges "Forward, forward still! + Press along the trail!" + + Breast, breast, breast the slope + See, the path is growing steep. + Hark! a little song of hope + Where the stream begins to leap. + Though the forest, far and wide, + Still shuts out the bending blue, + We shall finally win through, + Cross the long divide. + + On, on, on we tramp! + Will the journey never end? + Over yonder lies the camp; + Welcome waits us there, my friend. + Can we reach it ere the night? + Upward, upward, never fear! + Look, the summit must be near; + See the line of light! + + Red, red, red the shine + Of the splendour in the west, + Glowing through the ranks of pine, + Clear along the mountain-crest! + Long, long, long the trail + Out of sorrow's lonely vale; + But at last the traveller sees + Light between the trees! + +March, 1904. + + + +THE HERMIT THRUSH + + + O wonderful! How liquid clear + The molten gold of that ethereal tone, + Floating and falling through the wood alone, + A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear! + + _O holy, holy, holy! Hyaline, + Long light, low light, glory of eventide! + Love far away, far up,--up,--love divine! + Little love, too, for ever, ever near, + Warm love, earth love, tender love of mine, + In the leafy dark where you hide, + You are mine,--mine,--mine!_ + + Ah, my belovèd, do you feel with me + The hidden virtue of that melody, + The rapture and the purity of love, + The heavenly joy that can not find the word? + Then, while we wait again to hear the bird, + Come very near to me, and do not move,-- + Now, hermit of the woodland, fill anew + The cool, green cup of air with harmony, + And we will drink the wine of love with you. + +May, 1908. + + + +TURN O' THE TIDE + + + The tide flows in to the harbour,-- + The bold tide, the gold tide, the flood o' the sunlit sea,-- + And the little ships riding at anchor, + Are swinging and slanting their prows to the ocean, panting + To lift their wings to the wide wild air, + And venture a voyage they know not where,-- + To fly away and be free! + + The tide runs out of the harbour,-- + The low tide, the slow tide, the ebb o' the moonlit bay,-- + And the little ships rocking at anchor, + Are rounding and turning their bows to the landward, yearning + To breathe the breath of the sun-warmed strand, + To rest in the lee of the high hill land,-- + To hold their haven and stay! + + My heart goes round with the vessels,-- + My wild heart, my child heart, in love with the sea and the land,-- + And the turn o' the tide passes through it, + In rising and falling with mystical currents, calling + At morn, to range where the far waves foam, + At night, to a harbour in love's true home, + With the hearts that understand! + +Seal Harbour, August 12, 1911. + + + +SIERRA MADRE + + + O Mother mountains! billowing far to the snow-lands, + Robed in aërial amethyst, silver, and blue, + Why do ye look so proudly down on the lowlands? + What have their groves and gardens to do with you? + + Theirs is the languorous charm of the orange and myrtle, + Theirs are the fruitage and fragrance of Eden of old,-- + Broad-boughed oaks in the meadows fair and fertile, + Dark-leaved orchards gleaming with globes of gold. + + You, in your solitude standing, lofty and lonely, + Bear neither garden nor grove on your barren breasts; + Rough is the rock-loving growth of your canyons, and only + Storm-battered pines and fir-trees cling to your crests. + + Why are ye throned so high, and arrayed in splendour + Richer than all the fields at your feet can claim? + What is your right, ye rugged peaks, to the tender + Queenly promise and pride of the mother-name? + + Answered the mountains, dim in the distance dreaming: + "Ours are the forests that treasure the riches of rain; + Ours are the secret springs and the rivulets gleaming + Silverly down through the manifold bloom of the plain. + + "Vain were the toiling of men in the dust of the dry land, + Vain were the ploughing and planting in waterless fields, + Save for the life-giving currents we send from the sky-land, + Save for the fruit our embrace with the storm-cloud yields." + + O mother mountains, Madre Sierra, I love you! + Rightly you reign o'er the vale that your bounty fills-- + Kissed by the sun, or with big, bright stars above you,-- + I murmur your name and lift up mine eyes to the hills. + +Pasadena, March, 1913. + + + +THE GRAND CANYON + +DAYBREAK + + + What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee? + Thou vast, profound, primeval hiding-place + Of ancient secrets,--gray and ghostly gulf + Cleft in the green of this high forest land, + And crowded in the dark with giant forms! + Art thou a grave, a prison, or a shrine? + + A stillness deeper than the dearth of sound + Broods over thee: a living silence breathes + Perpetual incense from thy dim abyss. + The morning-stars that sang above the bower + Of Eden, passing over thee, are dumb + With trembling bright amazement; and the Dawn + Steals through the glimmering pines with naked feet, + Her hand upon her lips, to look on thee! + She peers into thy depths with silent prayer + For light, more light, to part thy purple veil. + O Earth, swift-rolling Earth, reveal, reveal,-- + Turn to the East, and show upon thy breast + The mightiest marvel in the realm of Time! + + 'Tis done,--the morning miracle of light,-- + The resurrection of the world of hues + That die with dark, and daily rise again + With every rising of the splendid Sun! + + Be still, my heart! Now Nature holds her breath + To see the solar flood of radiance leap + Across the chasm, and crown the western rim + Of alabaster with a far-away + Rampart of pearl, and flowing down by walls + Of changeful opal, deepen into gold + Of topaz, rosy gold of tourmaline, + Crimson of garnet, green and gray of jade, + Purple of amethyst, and ruby red, + Beryl, and sard, and royal porphyry; + Until the cataract of colour breaks + Upon the blackness of the granite floor. + + How far below! And all between is cleft + And carved into a hundred curving miles + Of unimagined architecture! Tombs, + Temples, and colonnades are neighboured there + By fortresses that Titans might defend, + And amphitheatres where Gods might strive. + Cathedrals, buttressed with unnumbered tiers + Of ruddy rock, lift to the sapphire sky + A single spire of marble pure as snow; + And huge aërial palaces arise + Like mountains built of unconsuming flame. + Along the weathered walls, or standing deep + In riven valleys where no foot may tread, + Are lonely pillars, and tall monuments + Of perished æons and forgotten things. + My sight is baffled by the wide array + Of countless forms: my vision reels and swims + Above them, like a bird in whirling winds. + Yet no confusion fills the awful chasm; + But spacious order and a sense of peace + Brood over all. For every shape that looms + Majestic in the throng, is set apart + From all the others by its far-flung shade, + Blue, blue, as if a mountain-lake were there. + + How still it is! Dear God, I hardly dare + To breathe, for fear the fathomless abyss + Will draw me down into eternal sleep. + + What force has formed this masterpiece of awe? + What hands have wrought these wonders in the waste? + O river, gleaming in the narrow rift + Of gloom that cleaves the valley's nether deep,-- + Fierce Colorado, prisoned by thy toil, + And blindly toiling still to reach the sea,-- + Thy waters, gathered from the snows and springs + Amid the Utah hills, have carved this road + Of glory to the Californian Gulf. + But now, O sunken stream, thy splendour lost, + 'Twixt iron walls thou rollest turbid waves, + Too far away to make their fury heard! + + At sight of thee, thou sullen labouring slave + Of gravitation,--yellow torrent poured + From distant mountains by no will of thine, + Through thrice a hundred centuries of slow + Fallings and liftings of the crust of Earth,-- + At sight of thee my spirit sinks and fails. + Art thou alone the Maker? Is the blind + Unconscious power that drew thee dumbly down + To cut this gash across the layered globe, + The sole creative cause of all I see? + Are force and matter all? The rest a dream? + + Then is thy gorge a canyon of despair, + A prison for the soul of man, a grave + Of all his dearest daring hopes! The world + Wherein we live and move is meaningless, + No spirit here to answer to our own! + The stars without a guide: The chance-born Earth + Adrift in space, no Captain on the ship: + Nothing in all the universe to prove + Eternal wisdom and eternal love! + And man, the latest accident of Time,-- + Who thinks he loves, and longs to understand, + Who vainly suffers, and in vain is brave, + Who dupes his heart with immortality,-- + Man is a living lie,--a bitter jest + Upon himself,--a conscious grain of sand + Lost in a desert of unconsciousness, + Thirsting for God and mocked by his own thirst. + + Spirit of Beauty, mother of delight, + Thou fairest offspring of Omnipotence + Inhabiting this lofty lone abode, + Speak to my heart again and set me free + From all these doubts that darken earth and heaven! + Who sent thee forth into the wilderness + To bless and comfort all who see thy face? + Who clad thee in this more than royal robe + Of rainbows? Who designed these jewelled thrones + For thee, and wrought these glittering palaces? + Who gave thee power upon the soul of man + To lift him up through wonder into joy? + God! let the radiant cliffs bear witness, God! + Let all the shining pillars signal, God! + He only, on the mystic loom of light. + Hath woven webs of loveliness to clothe + His most majestic works: and He alone + Hath delicately wrought the cactus-flower + To star the desert floor with rosy bloom. + + O Beauty, handiwork of the Most High, + Where'er thou art He tells his Love to man, + And lo, the day breaks, and the shadows flee! + + Now, far beyond all language and all art + In thy wild splendour, Canyon marvellous, + The secret of thy stillness lies unveiled + In wordless worship! This is holy ground; + Thou art no grave, no prison, but a shrine. + Garden of Temples filled with Silent Praise, + If God were blind thy Beauty could not be! + +February 24-26, 1913. + + + +THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + + + The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + How wondrously they rise + Above the smooth green pastures + Into the azure skies! + With blue and purple hollows, + With peaks of dazzling snow, + Along the far horizon + The clouds are marching slow. + + No mortal foot has trodden + The summits of that range, + Nor walked those mystic valleys + Whose colours ever change; + Yet we possess their beauty, + And visit them in dreams, + While ruddy gold of sunset + From cliff and canyon gleams. + + In days of cloudless weather + They melt into the light; + When fog and mist surround us + They're hidden from our sight; + But when returns a season + Clear shining after rain, + While the northwest wind is blowing, + We see the hills again. + + The old Dutch painters loved them, + Their pictures show them fair,-- + Old Hobbema and Ruysdael, + Van Goyen and Vermeer. + Above the level landscape, + Rich polders, long-armed mills, + Canals and ancient cities,-- + Float Holland's heavenly hills. + +The Hague, November, 1916. + + + +FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS + +IN HOLLAND + + + The laggard winter ebbed so slow + With freezing rain and melting snow, + It seemed as if the earth would stay + Forever where the tide was low, + In sodden green and watery gray. + + But now from depths beyond our sight, + The tide is turning in the night, + And floods of colour long concealed + Come silent rising toward the light, + Through garden bare and empty field. + + And first, along the sheltered nooks, + The crocus runs in little brooks + Of joyance, till by light made bold + They show the gladness of their looks + In shining pools of white and gold. + + The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, + Is gently seeping in, to strew + The earth with heaven; and sudden rills + Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, + Spread into lakes of daffodils. + + The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, + Have overflowed their sandy beds, + And fill the earth with faint perfume, + The breath that Spring around her sheds. + And now the tulips break in bloom! + + A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, + A splendour and a mystery, + Floods o'er the fields of faded gray: + The roads are full of folks in glee, + For lo,--to-day is Easter Day! + +April, 1916. + + + +ODE + +GOD OF THE OPEN AIR + + +I + + Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair + With flowers below, above with starry lights + And set thine altars everywhere,-- + On mountain heights, + In woodlands dim with many a dream, + In valleys bright with springs, + And on the curving capes of every stream: + Thou who hast taken to thyself the wings + Of morning, to abide + Upon the secret places of the sea, + And on far islands, where the tide + Visits the beauty of untrodden shores, + Waiting for worshippers to come to thee + In thy great out-of-doors! + To thee I turn, to thee I make my prayer, + God of the open air. + + +II + + Seeking for thee, the heart of man + Lonely and longing ran, + In that first, solitary hour, + When the mysterious power + To know and love the wonder of the morn + Was breathed within him, and his soul was born; + And thou didst meet thy child, + Not in some hidden shrine, + But in the freedom of the garden wild, + And take his hand in thine,-- + There all day long in Paradise he walked, + And in the cool of evening with thee talked. + + +III + + Lost, long ago, that garden bright and pure, + Lost, that calm day too perfect to endure, + And lost the child-like love that worshipped and was sure! + For men have dulled their eyes with sin, + And dimmed the light of heaven with doubt, + And built their temple walls to shut thee in, + And framed their iron creeds to shut thee out. + But not for thee the closing of the door, + O Spirit unconfined! + Thy ways are free + As is the wandering wind, + And thou hast wooed thy children, to restore + Their fellowship with thee, + In peace of soul and simpleness of mind. + + +IV + + Joyful the heart that, when the flood rolled by, + Leaped up to see the rainbow in the sky; + And glad the pilgrim, in the lonely night, + For whom the hills of Haran, tier on tier, + Built up a secret stairway to the height + Where stars like angel eyes were shining clear. + From mountain-peaks, in many a land and age, + Disciples of the Persian seer + Have hailed the rising sun and worshipped thee; + And wayworn followers of the Indian sage + Have found the peace of God beneath a spreading tree. + + +V + + But One, but One,--ah, Son most dear, + And perfect image of the Love Unseen,-- + Walked every day in pastures green, + And all his life the quiet waters by, + Reading their beauty with a tranquil eye. + To him the desert was a place prepared + For weary hearts to rest; + The hillside was a temple blest; + The grassy vale a banquet-room + Where he could feed and comfort many a guest. + With him the lily shared + The vital joy that breathes itself in bloom; + And every bird that sang beside the nest + Told of the love that broods o'er every living thing. + He watched the shepherd bring + His flock at sundown to the welcome fold, + The fisherman at daybreak fling + His net across the waters gray and cold, + And all day long the patient reaper swing + His curving sickle through the harvest-gold. + So through the world the foot-path way he trod, + Breathing the air of heaven in every breath; + And in the evening sacrifice of death + Beneath the open sky he gave his soul to God. + Him will I trust, and for my Master take; + Him will I follow; and for his dear sake, + God of the open air, + To thee I make my prayer. + + +VI + + From the prison of anxious thought that greed has builded, + From the fetters that envy has wrought and pride has gilded, + From the noise of the crowded ways and the fierce confusion, + From the folly that wastes its days in a world of illusion, + (Ah, but the life is lost that frets and languishes there!) + I would escape and be free in the joy of the open air. + + By the breadth of the blue that shines in silence o'er me, + By the length of the mountain-lines that stretch before me, + By the height of the cloud that sails, with rest in motion, + Over the plains and the vales to the measureless ocean, + (Oh, how the sight of the greater things enlarges the eyes!) + Draw me away from myself to the peace of the hills and skies. + + While the tremulous leafy haze on the woodland is spreading, + And the bloom on the meadow betrays where May has been treading; + While the birds on the branches above, and the brooks flowing under, + Are singing together of love in a world full of wonder, + (Lo, in the magic of Springtime, dreams are changed into truth!) + Quicken my heart, and restore the beautiful hopes of youth. + + By the faith that the wild-flowers show when they bloom unbidden, + By the calm of the river's flow to a goal that is hidden, + By the strength of the tree that clings to its deep foundation, + By the courage of birds' light wings on the long migration, + (Wonderful spirit of trust that abides in Nature's breast!) + Teach me how to confide, and live my life, and rest. + + For the comforting warmth of the sun that my body embraces, + For the cool of the waters that run through the shadowy places, + For the balm of the breezes that brush my face with their fingers, + For the vesper-hymn of the thrush when the twilight lingers, + For the long breath, the deep breath, the breath of a heart without + care,-- + I will give thanks and adore thee, God of the open air! + + +VII + + These are the gifts I ask + Of thee, Spirit serene: + Strength for the daily task, + Courage to face the road, + Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load, + And, for the hours of rest that come between, + An inward joy in all things heard and seen. + These are the sins I fain + Would have thee take away: + Malice, and cold disdain, + Hot anger, sullen hate, + Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great, + And discontent that casts a shadow gray + On all the brightness of the common day. + These are the things I prize + And hold of dearest worth: + Light of the sapphire skies, + Peace of the silent hills, + Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass, + Music of birds, murmur of little rills, + Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass, + And, after showers, + The smell of flowers + And of the good brown earth,-- + And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth. + So let me keep + These treasures of the humble heart + In true possession, owning them by love; + And when at last I can no longer move + Among them freely, but must part + From the green fields and from the waters clear, + Let me not creep + Into some darkened room and hide + From all that makes the world so bright and dear; + But throw the windows wide + To welcome in the light; + And while I clasp a well-belovèd hand, + Let me once more have sight + Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land,-- + Then gently fall on sleep, + And breathe my body back to Nature's care, + My spirit out to thee, God of the open air. + +1904. + + + + +NARRATIVE POEMS + + + +THE TOILING OF FELIX + +A LEGEND ON A NEW SAYING OF JESUS + + +In the rubbish heaps of the ancient city of Oxyrhynchus, near the +River Nile, a party of English explorers, in the winter of 1897, +discovered a fragment of a papyrus book, written in the second or +third century, and hitherto unknown. This single leaf contained +parts of seven short sentences of Christ, each introduced by the +words, "Jesus says." It is to the fifth of these Sayings of Jesus +that the following poem refers. + + + +THE TOILING OF FELIX + + +I + +PRELUDE + + Hear a word that Jesus spake + Nineteen hundred years ago, + Where the crimson lilies blow + Round the blue Tiberian lake: + There the bread of life He brake, + Through the fields of harvest walking + With His lowly comrades, talking + Of the secret thoughts that feed + Weary souls in time of need. + Art thou hungry? Come and take; + Hear the word that Jesus spake! + 'Tis the sacrament of labour, bread and wine divinely blest; + Friendship's food and sweet refreshment, strength and courage, joy and + rest. + + But this word the Master said + Long ago and far away, + Silent and forgotten lay + Buried with the silent dead, + Where the sands of Egypt spread + Sea-like, tawny billows heaping + Over ancient cities sleeping, + While the River Nile between + Rolls its summer flood of green + Rolls its autumn flood of red: + There the word the Master said, + Written on a frail papyrus, wrinkled, scorched by fire, and torn, + Hidden by God's hand was waiting for its resurrection morn. + + Now at last the buried word + By the delving spade is found, + Sleeping in the quiet ground. + Now the call of life is heard: + Rise again, and like a bird, + Fly abroad on wings of gladness + Through the darkness and the sadness, + Of the toiling age, and sing + Sweeter than the voice of Spring, + Till the hearts of men are stirred + By the music of the word,-- + Gospel for the heavy-laden, answer to the labourer's cry: + "_Raise the stone, and thou shall find me; cleave the wood and there + am I._" + + +II + +LEGEND + + Brother-men who look for Jesus, long to see Him close and clear, + Hearken to the tale of Felix, how he found the Master near. + + Born in Egypt, 'neath the shadow of the crumbling gods of night, + He forsook the ancient darkness, turned his young heart toward the Light. + + Seeking Christ, in vain he waited for the vision of the Lord; + Vainly pondered many volumes where the creeds of men were stored; + + Vainly shut himself in silence, keeping vigil night and day; + Vainly haunted shrines and churches where the Christians came to pray. + + One by one he dropped the duties of the common life of care, + Broke the human ties that bound him, laid his spirit waste and bare, + + Hoping that the Lord would enter that deserted dwelling-place, + And reward the loss of all things with the vision of His face. + + Still the blessed vision tarried; still the light was unrevealed; + Still the Master, dim and distant, kept His countenance concealed. + + Fainter grew the hope of finding, wearier grew the fruitless quest; + Prayer and penitence and fasting gave no comfort, brought no rest. + + Lingering in the darkened temple, ere the lamp of faith went out, + Felix knelt before the altar, lonely, sad, and full of doubt. + + "Hear me, O my Lord and Master," from the altar-step he cried, + "Let my one desire be granted, let my hope be satisfied! + + "Only once I long to see Thee, in the fulness of Thy grace: + Break the clouds that now enfold Thee, with the sunrise of Thy face! + + "All that men desire and treasure have I counted loss for Thee; + Every hope have I forsaken, save this one, my Lord to see. + + "Loosed the sacred bands of friendship, solitary stands my heart; + Thou shalt be my sole companion when I see Thee as Thou art. + + "From Thy distant throne in glory, flash upon my inward sight, + Fill the midnight of my spirit with the splendour of Thy light. + + "All Thine other gifts and blessings, common mercies, I disown; + Separated from my brothers, I would see Thy face alone. + + "I have watched and I have waited as one waiteth for the morn: + Still the veil is never lifted, still Thou leavest me forlorn. + + "Now I seek Thee in the desert, where the holy hermits dwell; + There, beside the saint Serapion, I will find a lonely cell. + + "There at last Thou wilt be gracious; there Thy presence, + long-concealed, + In the solitude and silence to my heart shall be revealed. + + "Thou wilt come, at dawn or twilight, o'er the rolling waves of sand; + I shall see Thee close beside me, I shall touch Thy pierced hand. + + "Lo, Thy pilgrim kneels before Thee; bless my journey with a word; + Tell me now that if I follow, I shall find Thee, O my Lord!" + + Felix listened: through the darkness, like a murmur of the wind, + Came a gentle sound of stillness: "Never faint, and thou shalt find." + + Long and toilsome was his journey through the heavy land of heat, + Egypt's blazing sun above him, blistering sand beneath his feet. + + Patiently he plodded onward, from the pathway never erred, + Till he reached the river-headland called the Mountain of the Bird. + + There the tribes of air assemble, once a year, their noisy flock, + Then, departing, leave a sentinel perched upon the highest rock. + + Far away, on joyful pinions, over land and sea they fly; + But the watcher on the summit lonely stands against the sky. + + There the eremite Serapion in a cave had made his bed; + There the faithful bands of pilgrims sought his blessing, brought him + bread. + + Month by month, in deep seclusion, hidden in the rocky cleft, + Dwelt the hermit, fasting, praying; once a year the cave he left. + + On that day a happy pilgrim, chosen out of all the band, + Won a special sign of favour from the holy hermit's hand. + + Underneath the narrow window, at the doorway closely sealed, + While the afterglow of sunset deepened round him, Felix kneeled. + + "Man of God, of men most holy, thou whose gifts cannot be priced! + Grant me thy most precious guerdon; tell me how to find the Christ." + + Breathless, Felix bent and listened, but no answering voice he heard; + Darkness folded, dumb and deathlike, round the Mountain of the Bird. + + Then he said, "The saint is silent; he would teach my soul to wait: + I will tarry here in patience, like a beggar at his gate." + + Near the dwelling of the hermit Felix found a rude abode, + In a shallow tomb deserted, close beside the pilgrim-road. + + So the faithful pilgrims saw him waiting there without complaint,-- + Soon they learned to call him holy, fed him as they fed the saint. + + Day by day he watched the sunrise flood the distant plain with gold, + While the River Nile beneath him, silvery coiling, sea-ward rolled. + + Night by night he saw the planets range their glittering court on high, + Saw the moon, with queenly motion, mount her throne and rule the sky. + + Morn advanced and midnight fled, in visionary pomp attired; + Never morn and never midnight brought the vision long-desired. + + Now at last the day is dawning when Serapion makes his gift; + Felix kneels before the threshold, hardly dares his eyes to lift. + + Now the cavern door uncloses, now the saint above him stands, + Blesses him without a word, and leaves a token in his hands. + + 'Tis the guerdon of thy waiting! Look, thou happy pilgrim, look! + Nothing but a tattered fragment of an old papyrus book. + + Read! perchance the clue to guide thee hidden in the words may lie: + "_Raise the stone, and thou shalt find me; cleave the wood, and there + am I._" + + Can it be the mighty Master spake such simple words as these? + Can it be that men must seek Him at their toil 'mid rocks and trees? + + Disappointed, heavy-hearted, from the Mountain of the Bird + Felix mournfully descended, questioning the Master's word. + + Not for him a sacred dwelling, far above the haunts of men: + He must turn his footsteps backward to the common life again. + + From a quarry near the river, hollowed out amid the hills, + Rose the clattering voice of labour, clanking hammers, clinking drills. + + Dust, and noise, and hot confusion made a Babel of the spot: + There, among the lowliest workers, Felix sought and found his lot. + + Now he swung the ponderous mallet, smote the iron in the rock-- + Muscles quivering, tingling, throbbing--blow on blow and shock on shock; + + Now he drove the willow wedges, wet them till they swelled and split, + With their silent strength, the fragment, sent it thundering down the + pit. + + Now the groaning tackle raised it; now the rollers made it slide; + Harnessed men, like beasts of burden, drew it to the river-side. + + Now the palm-trees must be riven, massive timbers hewn and dressed; + Rafts to bear the stones in safety on the rushing river's breast. + + Axe and auger, saw and chisel, wrought the will of man in wood: + 'Mid the many-handed labour Felix toiled, and found it good. + + Every day the blood ran fleeter through his limbs and round his heart; + Every night he slept the sweeter, knowing he had done his part. + + Dreams of solitary saintship faded from him; but, instead, + Came a sense of daily comfort in the toil for daily bread. + + Far away, across the river, gleamed the white walls of the town + Whither all the stones and timbers day by day were floated down. + + There the workman saw his labour taking form and bearing fruit, + Like a tree with splendid branches rising from a humble root. + + Looking at the distant city, temples, houses, domes, and towers, + Felix cried in exultation: "All that mighty work is ours. + + "Every toiler in the quarry, every builder on the shore, + Every chopper in the palm-grove, every raftsman at the oar, + + "Hewing wood and drawing water, splitting stones and cleaving sod, + All the dusty ranks of labour, in the regiment of God, + + "March together toward His triumph, do the task His hands prepare: + Honest toil is holy service; faithful work is praise and prayer." + + While he bore the heat and burden Felix felt the sense of rest + Flowing softly like a fountain, deep within his weary breast; + + Felt the brotherhood of labour, rising round him like a tide, + Overflow his heart and join him to the workers at his side. + + Oft he cheered them with his singing at the breaking of the light, + Told them tales of Christ at noonday, taught them words of prayer at + night. + + Once he bent above a comrade fainting in the mid-day heat, + Sheltered him with woven palm-leaves, gave him water, cool and sweet. + + Then it seemed, for one swift moment, secret radiance filled the place; + Underneath the green palm-branches flashed a look of Jesus' face. + + Once again, a raftsman, slipping, plunged beneath the stream and sank; + Swiftly Felix leaped to rescue, caught him, drew him toward the bank-- + + Battling with the cruel river, using all his strength to save-- + Did he dream? or was there One beside him walking on the wave? + + Now at last the work was ended, grove deserted, quarry stilled; + Felix journeyed to the city that his hands had helped to build. + + In the darkness of the temple, at the closing hour of day, + As of old he sought the altar, as of old he knelt to pray: + + "Hear me, O Thou hidden Master! Thou hast sent a word to me; + It is written--Thy commandment--I have kept it faithfully. + + "Thou hast bid me leave the visions of the solitary life, + Bear my part in human labour, take my share in human strife. + + "I have done Thy bidding, Master; raised the rock and felled the tree, + Swung the axe and plied the hammer, working every day for Thee. + + "Once it seemed I saw Thy presence through the bending palm-leaves gleam; + Once upon the flowing water--Nay, I know not; 'twas a dream! + + "This I know: Thou hast been near me: more than this I dare not ask. + Though I see Thee not, I love Thee. Let me do Thy humblest task!" + + Through the dimness of the temple slowly dawned a mystic light; + There the Master stood in glory, manifest to mortal sight: + + Hands that bore the mark of labour, brow that bore the print of care; + Hands of power, divinely tender; brow of light, divinely fair. + + "Hearken, good and faithful servant, true disciple, loyal friend! + Thou hast followed me and found me; I will keep thee to the end. + + "Well I know thy toil and trouble; often weary, fainting, worn, + I have lived the life of labour, heavy burdens I have borne. + + "Never in a prince's palace have I slept on golden bed, + Never in a hermit's cavern have I eaten unearned bread. + + "Born within a lowly stable, where the cattle round me stood, + Trained a carpenter in Nazareth, I have toiled, and found it good. + + "They who tread the path of labour follow where my feet have trod; + They who work without complaining do the holy will of God. + + "Where the many toil together, there am I among my own; + Where the tired workman sleepeth, there am I with him alone. + + "I, the peace that passeth knowledge, dwell amid the daily strife; + I, the bread of heaven, am broken in the sacrament of life. + + "Every task, however simple, sets the soul that does it free; + Every deed of love and mercy, done to man, is done to me. + + "Thou hast learned the open secret; thou hast come to me for rest; + With thy burden, in thy labour, thou art Felix, doubly blest. + + "Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere; + _Raise the stone, and thou shall find me; cleave the wood, and + I am there._" + + +III + +ENVOY + + The legend of Felix is ended, the toiling of Felix is done; + The Master has paid him his wages, the goal of his journey is won; + He rests, but he never is idle; a thousand years pass like a day, + In the glad surprise of that Paradise where work is sweeter than play. + + Yet often the King of that country comes out from His tireless host, + And walks in this world of the weary as if He loved it the most; + For here in the dusty confusion, with eyes that are heavy and dim, + He meets again the labouring men who are looking and longing for Him. + + He cancels the curse of Eden, and brings them a blessing instead: + Blessed are they that labour, for Jesus partakes of their bread. + He puts His hand to their burdens, He enters their homes at night: + Who does his best shall have as a guest the Master of life and light. + + And courage will come with His presence, and patience return at His + touch, + And manifold sins be forgiven to those who love Him much; + The cries of envy and anger will change to the songs of cheer, + The toiling age will forget its rage when the Prince of Peace draws near. + + This is the gospel of labour, ring it, ye bells of the kirk! + The Lord of Love came down from above, to live with the men who work. + This is the rose that He planted, here in the thorn-curst soil: + Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of Earth is toil. + +1898. + + + +VERA + + +I + + A silent world,--yet full of vital joy + Uttered in rhythmic movements manifold, + And sunbeams flashing on the face of things + Like sudden smilings of divine delight,-- + A world of many sorrows too, revealed + In fading flowers and withering leaves and dark + Tear-laden clouds, and tearless, clinging mists + That hung above the earth too sad to weep,-- + A world of fluent change, and changeless flow, + And infinite suggestion of new thought, + Reflected in the crystal of the heart,-- + A world of many meanings but no words, + A silent world was Vera's home. + For her + The inner doors of sound were closely sealed + The outer portals, delicate as shells + Suffused with faintest rose of far-off morn, + Like underglow of daybreak in the sea,-- + The ear-gates of the garden of her soul, + Shaded by drooping tendrils of brown hair,-- + Waited in vain for messengers to pass, + And thread the labyrinth with flying feet, + And swiftly knock upon the inmost door, + And enter in, and speak the mystic word. + But through those gates no message ever came. + Only with eyes did she behold and see,-- + With eyes as luminous and bright and brown + As waters of a woodland river,--eyes + That questioned so they almost seemed to speak, + And answered so they almost seemed to hear,-- + Only with wondering eyes did she behold + The silent splendour of a living world. + + She saw the great wind ranging freely down + Interminable archways of the wood, + While tossing boughs and bending tree-tops hailed + His coming: but no sea-toned voice of pines, + No roaring of the oaks, no silvery song + Of poplars or of birches, followed him. + He passed; they waved their arms and clapped their hands; + There was no sound. + The torrents from the hills + Leaped down their rocky pathways, like wild steeds + Breaking the yoke and shaking manes of foam. + The lowland brooks coiled smoothly through the fields, + And softly spread themselves in glistening lakes + Whose ripples merrily danced among the reeds. + The standing waves that ever keep their place + In the swift rapids, curled upon themselves, + And seemed about to break and never broke; + And all the wandering waves that fill the sea + Came buffeting in along the stony shore, + Or plunging in along the level sands, + Or creeping in along the winding creeks + And inlets. Yet from all the ceaseless flow + And turmoil of the restless element + Came neither song of joy nor sob of grief; + For there were many waters, but no voice. + + Silent the actors all on Nature's stage + Performed their parts before her watchful eyes, + Coming and going, making war and love, + Working and playing, all without a sound. + The oxen drew their load with swaying necks; + The cows came sauntering home along the lane; + The nodding sheep were led from field to fold + In mute obedience. Down the woodland track + The hounds with panting sides and lolling tongues + Pursued their flying prey in noiseless haste. + The birds, the most alive of living things, + Mated, and built their nests, and reared their young, + And swam the flood of air like tiny ships + Rising and falling over unseen waves, + And, gathering in great navies, bore away + To North or South, without a note of song. + + All these were Vera's playmates; and she loved + To watch them, wondering oftentimes how well + They knew their parts, and how the drama moved + So swiftly, smoothly on from scene to scene + Without confusion. But she sometimes dreamed + There must be something hidden in the play + Unknown to her, an utterance of life + More clear than action and more deep than looks. + And this she felt most deeply when she watched + Her human comrades and the throngs of men, + Who met and parted oft with moving lips + That had a meaning more than she could see. + She saw a lover bend above a maid, + With moving lips; and though he touched her not + A sudden rose of joy bloomed in her face. + She saw a hater stand before his foe + And move his lips; whereat the other shrank + As if he had been smitten on the mouth. + She saw the regiments of toiling men + Marshalled in ranks and led by moving lips. + And once she saw a sight more strange than all: + A crowd of people sitting charmed and still + Around a little company of men + Who touched their hands in measured, rhythmic time + To curious instruments; a woman stood + Among them, with bright eyes and heaving breast, + And lifted up her face and moved her lips. + Then Vera wondered at the idle play, + But when she looked around, she saw the glow + Of deep delight on every face, as if + Some visitor from a celestial world + Had brought glad tidings. But to her alone + No angel entered, for the choir of sound + Was vacant in the temple of her soul, + And worship lacked her golden crown of song. + + So when by vision baffled and perplexed + She saw that all the world could not be seen, + And knew she could not know the whole of life + Unless a hidden gate should be unsealed, + She felt imprisoned. In her heart there grew + The bitter creeping plant of discontent, + The plant that only grows in prison soil, + Whose root is hunger and whose fruit is pain. + The springs of still delight and tranquil joy + Were drained as dry as desert dust to feed + That never-flowering vine, whose tendrils clung + With strangling touch around the bloom of life + And made it wither. Vera could not rest + Within the limits of her silent world; + Along its dumb and desolate paths she roamed + A captive, looking sadly for escape. + + Now in those distant days, and in that land + Remote, there lived a Master wonderful, + Who knew the secret of all life, and could, + With gentle touches and with potent words, + Open all gates that ever had been sealed, + And loose all prisoners whom Fate had bound. + Obscure he dwelt, not in the wilderness, + But in a hut among the throngs of men, + Concealed by meekness and simplicity. + And ever as he walked the city streets, + Or sat in quietude beside the sea, + Or trod the hillsides and the harvest fields, + The multitude passed by and knew him not. + But there were some who knew, and turned to him + For help; and unto all who asked, he gave. + Thus Vera came, and found him in the field, + And knew him by the pity in his face. + She knelt to him and held him by one hand, + And laid the other hand upon her lips + In mute entreaty. Then she lifted up + The coils of hair that hung about her neck, + And bared the beauty of the gates of sound,-- + Those virgin gates through which no voice had passed,-- + She made them bare before the Master's sight, + And looked into the kindness of his face + With eyes that spoke of all her prisoned pain, + And told her great desire without a word. + + The Master waited long in silent thought, + As one reluctant to bestow a gift, + Not for the sake of holding back the thing + Entreated, but because he surely knew + Of something better that he fain would give + If only she would ask it. Then he stooped + To Vera, smiling, touched her ears and spoke: + "Open, fair gates, and you, reluctant doors, + Within the ivory labyrinth of the ear, + Let fall the bar of silence and unfold! + Enter, you voices of all living things, + Enter the garden sealed,--but softly, slowly, + Not with a noise confused and broken tumult,-- + Come in an order sweet as I command you, + And bring the double gift of speech and hearing." + + Vera began to hear. At first the wind + Breathed a low prelude of the birth of sound, + As if an organ far away were touched + By unseen fingers; then the little stream + That hurried down the hillside, swept the harp + Of music into merry, tinkling notes; + And then the lark that poised above her head + On wings a-quiver, overflowed the air + With showers of song; and one by one the tones + Of all things living, in an order sweet, + Without confusion and with deepening power, + Entered the garden sealed. And last of all + The Master's voice, the human voice divine, + Passed through the gates and called her by her name, + And Vera heard. + + +II + + What rapture of new life + Must come to one for whom a silent world + Is suddenly made vocal, and whose heart + By the same magic is awaked at once, + Without the learner's toil and long delay, + Out of a night of dumbly moving dreams, + Into a day that overflows with music! + This joy was Vera's; and to her it seemed + As if a new creative morn had risen + Upon the earth, and after the full week + When living things unfolded silently, + And after the long, quiet Sabbath day, + When all was still, another day had dawned, + And through the calm expectancy of heaven + A secret voice had said, "Let all things speak." + The world responded with an instant joy; + And all the unseen avenues of sound + Were thronged with varying forms of viewless life. + + To every living thing a voice was given + Distinct and personal. The forest trees + Were not more varied in their shades of green + Than in their tones of speech; and every bird + That nested in their branches had a song + Unknown to other birds and all his own. + The waters spoke a hundred dialects + Of one great language; now with pattering fall + Of raindrops on the glistening leaves, and now + With steady roar of rivers rushing down + To meet the sea, and now with rhythmic throb + And measured tumult of tempestuous waves, + And now with lingering lisp of creeping tides,-- + The manifold discourse of many waters. + But most of all the human voice was full + Of infinite variety, and ranged + Along the scale of life's experience + With changing tones, and notes both sweet and sad, + All fitted to express some unseen thought, + Some vital motion of the hidden heart. + So Vera listened with her new-born sense + To all the messengers that passed the gates, + In measureless delight and utter trust, + Believing that they brought a true report + From every living thing of its true life, + And hoping that at last they would make clear + The mystery and the meaning of the world. + + But soon there came a trouble in her joy, + A note discordant that dissolved the chord + And broke the bliss of hearing into pain. + Not from the harsher sounds and voices wild + Of anger and of anguish, that reveal + The secret strife in nature, and confess + The touch of sorrow on the heart of life,-- + From these her trouble came not. For in these, + However sad, she felt the note of truth, + And truth, though sad, is always musical. + The raging of the tempest-ridden sea, + The crash of thunder, and the hollow moan + Of winds complaining round the mountain-crags, + The shrill and quavering cry of birds of prey, + The fiercer roar of conflict-loving beasts,-- + All these wild sounds are potent in their place + Within life's mighty symphony; the charm + Of truth attunes them, and the hearing ear + Finds pleasure in their rude sincerity. + Even the broken and tumultuous noise + That rises from great cities, where the heart + Of human toil is beating heavily + With ceaseless murmurs of the labouring pulse, + Is not a discord; for it speaks to life + Of life unfeigned, and full of hopes and fears, + And touched through all the trouble of its notes + With something real and therefore glorious. + + One voice alone of all that sound on earth, + Is hateful to the soul, and full of pain,-- + The voice of falsehood. So when Vera heard + This mocking voice, and knew that it was false; + When first she learned that human lips can speak + The thing that is not, and betray the ear + Of simple trust with treachery of words; + The joy of hearing withered in her heart. + For now she felt that faithless messengers + Could pass the open and unguarded gates + Of sound, and bring a message all untrue, + Or half a truth that makes the deadliest lie, + Or idle babble, neither false nor true, + But hollow to the heart, and meaningless. + She heard the flattering voices of deceit, + That mask the hidden purposes of men + With fair attire of favourable words, + And hide the evil in the guise of good: + The voices vain and decorous and smooth, + That fill the world with empty-hearted talk; + The foolish voices, wandering and confused, + That never clearly speak the thing they would, + But ramble blindly round their true intent + And tangle sense in hopeless coils of sound,-- + All these she heard, and with a deep mistrust + Began to doubt the value of her gift. + It seemed as if the world, the living world, + Sincere, and vast, and real, were still concealed, + And she, within the prison of her soul, + Still waiting silently to hear the voice + Of perfect knowledge and of perfect peace. + + So with the burden of her discontent + She turned to seek the Master once again, + And found him sitting in the market-place, + Half-hidden in the shadow of a porch, + Alone among the careless crowd. + She spoke: + "Thy gift was great, dear Master, and my heart + Has thanked thee many times because I hear + But I have learned that hearing is not all; + For underneath the speech of men, there flows + Another current of their hidden thoughts; + Behind the mask of language I perceive + The eyes of things unsaid. + Touch me again, + O Master, with thy liberating hand, + And free me from the bondage of deceit. + Open another gate, and let me hear + The secret thoughts and purposes of men; + For only thus my heart will be at rest, + And only thus, at last, I shall perceive + The mystery and the meaning of the world." + + The Master's face was turned aside from her; + His eyes looked far away, as if he saw + Something beyond her sight; and yet she knew + That he was listening; for her pleading voice + No sooner ceased than he put forth his hand + To touch her brow, and very gently spoke: + "Thou seekest for thyself a wondrous gift,-- + The opening of the second gate, a gift + That many wise men have desired in vain: + But some have found it,--whether well or ill + For their own peace, they have attained the power + To hear unspoken thoughts of other men. + And thou hast begged this gift? Thou shalt receive,-- + Not knowing what thou seekest,--it is thine: + The second gate is open! Thou shalt hear + All that men think and feel within their hearts: + Thy prayer is granted, daughter, go thy way! + But if thou findest sorrow on this path, + Come back again,--there is a path to peace." + + +III + + Beyond our power of vision, poets say, + There is another world of forms unseen, + Yet visible to purer eyes than ours. + And if the crystal of our sight were clear, + We should behold the mountain-slopes of cloud, + The moving meadows of the untilled sea, + The groves of twilight and the dales of dawn, + And every wide and lonely field of air, + More populous than cities, crowded close + With living creatures of all shapes and hues. + But if that sight were ours, the things that now + Engage our eyes would seem but dull and dim + Beside the wonders of our new-found world, + And we should be amazed and overwhelmed + Not knowing how to use the plenitude + Of vision. + So in Vera's soul, at first, + The opening of the second gate of sound + Let in confusion like a whirling flood. + The murmur of a myriad-throated mob; + The trampling of an army through a place + Where echoes hide; the sudden, whistling flight + Of an innumerable flock of birds + Along the highway of the midnight sky; + The many-whispered rustling of the reeds + Beneath the passing feet of all the winds; + The long-drawn, inarticulate, wailing cry + Of million-pebbled beaches when the lash + Of stormy waves is drawn across their back,-- + All these were less bewildering than to hear + What now she heard at once: the tangled sound + Of all that moves within the minds of men. + For now there was no measured flow of words + To mark the time; nor any interval + Of silence to repose the listening ear. + But through the dead of night, and through the calm + Of weary noon-tide, through the solemn hush + That fills the temple in the pause of praise, + And through the breathless awe in rooms of death, + She heard the ceaseless motion and the stir + Of never-silent hearts, that fill the world + With interwoven thoughts of good and ill, + With mingled music of delight and grief, + With songs of love, and bitter cries of hate, + With hymns of faith, and dirges of despair, + And murmurs deeper and more vague than all,-- + Thoughts that are born and die without a name, + Or rather, never die, but haunt the soul, + With sad persistence, till a name is given. + These Vera heard, at first with mind perplexed + And half-benumbed by the disordered sound. + But soon a clearer sense began to pierce + The cloudy turmoil with discerning power. + She learned to know the tones of human thought + As plainly as she knew the tones of speech. + She could divide the evil from the good, + Interpreting the language of the mind, + And tracing every feeling like a thread + Within the mystic web the passions weave + From heart to heart around the living world. + + But when at last the Master's second gift + Was perfected within her, and she heard + And understood the secret thoughts of men, + A sadness fell upon her, and the load + Of insupportable knowledge pressed her down + With weary wishes to know more, or less. + For all she knew was like a broken word + Inscribed upon the fragment of a ring; + And all she heard was like a broken strain + Preluding music that is never played. + + Then she remembered in her sad unrest + The Master's parting word,--"a path to peace,"-- + And turned again to seek him with her grief. + She found him in a hollow of the hills, + Beside a little spring that issued forth + Beneath the rocks and filled a mossy cup + With never-failing water. There he sat, + With waiting looks that welcomed her afar. + "I know that thou hast heard, my child," he said, + "For all the wonder of the world of sound + Is written in thy face. But hast thou heard, + Among the many voices, one of peace? + And is thy heart that hears the secret thoughts, + The hidden wishes and desires of men, + Content with hearing? Art thou satisfied?" + "Nay, Master," she replied, "thou knowest well + That I am not at rest, nor have I heard + The voice of perfect peace; but what I hear + Brings me disquiet and a troubled mind. + The evil voices in the souls of men, + Voices of rage and cruelty and fear + Have not dismayed me; for I have believed + The voices of the good, the kind, the true, + Are more in number and excel in strength. + There is more love than hate, more hope than fear, + In the deep throbbing of the human heart. + But while I listen to the troubled sound, + One thing torments me, and destroys my rest + And presses me with dull, unceasing pain. + For out of all the minds of all mankind, + There rises evermore a questioning voice + That asks the meaning of this mighty world + And finds no answer,--asks, and asks again, + With patient pleading or with wild complaint, + But wakens no response, except the sound + Of other questions, wandering to and fro, + From other souls in doubt. And so this voice + Persists above all others that I hear, + And binds them up together into one, + Until the mingled murmur of the world + Sounds through the inner temple of my heart + Like an eternal question, vainly asked + By every human soul that thinks and feels. + This is the heaviness that weighs me down, + And this the pain that will not let me rest. + Therefore, dear Master, shut the gates again, + And let me live in silence as before! + Or else,--and if there is indeed a gate + Unopened yet, through which I might receive + An answer in the voice of perfect peace--" + + She ceased; and in her upward faltering tone + The question echoed. + Then the Master said: + "There is another gate, not yet unclosed. + For through the outer portal of the ear + Only the outer voice of things may pass; + And through the middle doorway of the mind + Only the half-formed voice of human thoughts, + Uncertain and perplexed with endless doubt; + But through the inmost gate the spirit hears + The voice of that great Spirit who is Life. + Beneath the tones of living things He breathes + A deeper tone than ever ear hath heard; + And underneath the troubled thoughts of men + He thinks forever, and His thought is peace. + Behold, I touch thee once again, my child: + The third and last of those three hidden gates + That closed around thy soul and shut thee in, + Is open now, and thou shalt truly hear." + + Then Vera heard. The spiritual gate + Was opened softly as a full-blown flower + Unfolds its heart to welcome in the dawn, + And on her listening face there shone a light + Of still amazement and completed joy + In the full gift of hearing. + What she heard + I cannot tell; nor could she ever tell + In words; because all human words are vain. + There is no speech nor language, to express + The secret messages of God, that make + Perpetual music in the hearing heart. + Below the voice of waters, and above + The wandering voice of winds, and underneath + The song of birds, and all the varying tones + Of living things that fill the world with sound, + God spoke to her, and what she heard was peace. + + So when the Master questioned, "Dost thou hear?" + She answered, "Yea, at last I hear." And then + He asked her once again, "What hearest thou? + What means the voice of Life?" She answered, "Love! + For love is life, and they who do not love + Are not alive. But every soul that loves, + Lives in the heart of God and hears Him speak." + +1898. + + + +ANOTHER CHANCE + +A DRAMATIC LYRIC + + + Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death! + Uncrook your fingers from my throat, and let me draw my breath. + You do me wrong to take me now--too soon for me to die-- + Ah, loose me from this clutching pain, and hear the reason why. + + I know I've had my forty years, and wasted every one; + And yet, I tell you honestly, my life is just begun; + I've walked the world like one asleep, a dreamer in a trance; + But now you've gripped me wide awake--I want another chance. + + My dreams were always beautiful, my thoughts were high and fine; + No life was ever lived on earth to match those dreams of mine. + And would you wreck them unfulfilled? What folly, nay, what crime! + You rob the world, you waste a soul; give me a little time. + + You'll hear me? Yes, I'm sure you will, my hope is not in vain: + I feel the even pulse of peace, the sweet relief from pain; + The black fog rolls away from me; I'm free once more to plan: + Another chance is all I need to prove myself a man! + + * * * * * + + The world is full of warfare 'twixt the evil and the good; + I watched the battle from afar as one who understood + The shouting and confusion, the bloody, blundering fight-- + How few there are that see it clear, how few that wage it right! + + The captains flushed with foolish pride, the soldiers pale with fear, + The faltering flags, the feeble fire from ranks that swerve and veer, + The wild mistakes, the dismal doubts, the coward hearts that flee-- + The good cause needs a nobler knight to win the victory. + + A man whose soul is pure and strong, whose sword is bright and keen, + Who knows the splendour of the fight and what its issues mean; + Who never takes one step aside, nor halts, though hope be dim, + But cleaves a pathway thro' the strife, and bids men follow him. + + No blot upon his stainless shield, no weakness in his arm; + No sign of trembling in his face to break his valour's charm: + A man like this could stay the flight and lead the wavering line; + Ah, give me but a year of life--I'll make that glory mine! + + * * * * * + + Religion? Yes, I know it well; I've heard its prayers and creeds, + And seen men put them all to shame with poor, half-hearted deeds. + They follow Christ, but far away; they wander and they doubt. + I'll serve him in a better way, and live his precepts out. + + You see, I waited just for this; I could not be content + To own a feeble, faltering faith with human weakness blent. + Too many runners in the race move slowly, stumble, fall; + But I will run so straight and swift I shall outstrip them all. + + Oh, think what it will mean to men, amid their foolish strife, + To see the clear, unshadowed light of one true Christian life, + Without a touch of selfishness, without a taint of sin,-- + With one short month of such a life a new world would begin! + + * * * * * + + And love!--I often dream of that--the treasure of the earth; + How little they who use the coin have realised its worth! + 'Twill pay all debts, enrich all hearts, and make all joys secure. + But love, to do its perfect work, must be sincere and pure. + + My heart is full of virgin gold. I'll pour it out and spend + My hidden wealth with open hand on all who call me friend. + Not one shall miss the kindly deed, the largess of relief, + The generous fellowship of joy, the sympathy of grief. + + I'll say the loyal, helpful things that make life sweet and fair, + I'll pay the gratitude I owe for human love and care. + Perhaps I've been at fault sometimes--I'll ask to be forgiven, + And make this little room of mine seem like a bit of heaven. + + For one by one I'll call my friends to stand beside my bed; + I'll speak the true and tender words so often left unsaid; + And every heart shall throb and glow, all coldness melt away + Around my altar-fire of love--ah, give me but one day! + + * * * * * + + What's that? I've had another day, and wasted it again? + A priceless day in empty dreams, another chance in vain? + Thou fool--this night--it's very dark--the last--this choking breath-- + One prayer--have mercy on a dreamer's soul--God, this is death! + + + +A LEGEND OF SERVICE + + + It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!) + To hear, one day, report from those who came + With pitying sorrow, or exultant joy, + To tell of earthly tasks in His employ. + For some were grieved because they saw how slow + The stream of heavenly love on earth must flow; + And some were glad because their eyes had seen, + Along its banks, fresh flowers and living green. + At last, before the whiteness of the throne + The youngest angel, Asmiel, stood alone; + Nor glad, nor sad, but full of earnest thought, + And thus his tidings to the Master brought + "Lord, in the city Lupon I have found + Three servants of thy holy name, renowned + Above their fellows. One is very wise, + With thoughts that ever range beyond the skies; + And one is gifted with the golden speech + That makes men gladly hear when he will teach; + And one, with no rare gift or grace endued, + Has won the people's love by doing good. + With three such saints Lupon is trebly blest; + But, Lord, I fain would know, which loves Thee best?" + Then spake the Lord of Angels, to whose look + The hearts of all are like an open book: + "In every soul the secret thought I read, + And well I know who loves me best indeed. + But every life has pages vacant still, + Whereon a man may write the thing he will; + Therefore I read the record, day by day, + And wait for hearts untaught to learn my way. + But thou shalt go to Lupon, to the three + Who serve me there, and take this word from me: + Tell each of them his Master bids him go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow; + There he shall find a certain task for me: + But what, I do not tell to them nor thee. + Give thou the message, make my word the test, + And crown for me the one who loves me best." + Silent the angel stood, with folded hands, + To take the imprint of his Lord's commands; + Then drew one breath, obedient and elate, + And passed the self-same hour, through Lupon's gate. + + * * * * * + + First to the Temple door he made his way; + And there, because it was a holy-day, + He saw the folk in thousands thronging, stirred + By ardent thirst to hear the preacher's word. + Then, while the people whispered Bernol's name, + Through aisles that hushed behind him Bernol came; + Strung to the keenest pitch of conscious might, + With lips prepared and firm, and eyes alight. + One moment at the pulpit step he knelt + In silent prayer, and on his shoulder felt + The angel's hand:--"The Master bids thee go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow, + To serve Him there." Then Bernol's hidden face + Went white as death, and for about the space + Of ten slow heart-beats there was no reply; + Till Bernol looked around and whispered, "_Why?_" + But answer to his question came there none; + The angel sighed, and with a sigh was gone. + + * * * * * + + Within the humble house where Malvin spent + His studious years, on holy things intent, + Sweet stillness reigned; and there the angel found + The saintly sage immersed in thought profound, + Weaving with patient toil and willing care + A web of wisdom, wonderful and fair: + A seamless robe for Truth's great bridal meet, + And needing but one thread to be complete. + Then Asmiel touched his hand, and broke the thread + Of fine-spun thought, and very gently said, + "The One of whom thou thinkest bids thee go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow, + To serve Him there." With sorrow and surprise + Malvin looked up, reluctance in his eyes. + The broken thought, the strangeness of the call, + The perilous passage of the mountain-wall, + The solitary journey, and the length + Of ways unknown, too great for his frail strength, + Appalled him. With a doubtful brow + He scanned the doubtful task, and muttered "_How?_" + But Asmiel answered, as he turned to go, + With cold, disheartened voice, "I do not know." + + * * * * * + + Now as he went, with fading hope, to seek + The third and last to whom God bade him speak, + Scarce twenty steps away whom should he meet + But Fermor, hurrying cheerful down the street, + With ready heart that faced his work like play, + And joyed to find it greater every day! + The angel stopped him with uplifted hand, + And gave without delay his Lord's command: + "He whom thou servest here would have thee go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow, + To serve Him there." Ere Asmiel breathed again + The eager answer leaped to meet him, "_When?_" + + The angel's face with inward joy grew bright, + And all his figure glowed with heavenly light; + He took the golden circlet from his brow + And gave the crown to Fermor, answering, "Now! + For thou hast met the Master's hidden test, + And I have found the man who loves Him best. + Not thine, nor mine, to question or reply + When He commands us, asking 'how?' or 'why?' + He knows the cause; His ways are wise and just; + Who serves the King must serve with perfect trust." + +February, 1902. + + + +THE WHITE BEES + + +I + +LEGEND + + Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds, + Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees." + Golden were the hives and golden was the honey; golden, too, the music + Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees. + + Happy Aristæus loitered in the garden, wandered in the orchard, + Careless and contented, indolent and free; + Lightly took his labour, lightly took his pleasure, till the fated moment + When across his pathway came Eurydice. + + Then her eyes enkindled burning love within him; drove him wild with + longing + For the perfect sweetness of her flower-like face; + Eagerly he followed, while she fled before him, over mead and mountain, + On through field and forest, in a breathless race. + + But the nymph, in flying, trod upon a serpent; like a dream she vanished; + Pluto's chariot bore her down among the dead! + Lonely Aristæus, sadly home returning, found his garden empty, + All the hives deserted, all the music fled. + + Mournfully bewailing,--"Ah, my honey-makers, where have you departed?" + Far and wide he sought them over sea and shore; + Foolish is the tale that says he ever found them, brought them home in + triumph,-- + Joys that once escape us fly for evermore. + + Yet I dream that somewhere, clad in downy whiteness, dwell the + honey-makers, + In aërial gardens that no mortal sees: + And at times returning, lo, they flutter round us, gathering mystic + harvest,-- + So I weave the legend of the long-lost bees. + + +II + +THE SWARMING OF THE BEES + + Who can tell the hiding of the white bees' nest? + Who can trace the guiding of their swift home flight? + Far would be his riding on a life-long quest: + Surely ere it ended would his beard grow white. + + Never in the coming of the rose-red Spring, + Never in the passing of the wine-red Fall, + May you hear the humming of the white bee's wing + Murmur o'er the meadow ere the night bells call. + + Wait till winter hardens in the cold gray sky, + Wait till leaves are fallen and the brooks all freeze, + Then above the gardens where the dead flowers lie, + Swarm the merry millions of the wild white bees. + + Out of the high-built airy hive, + Deep in the clouds that veil the sun, + Look how the first of the swarm arrive; + Timidly venturing, one by one, + Down through the tranquil air, + Wavering here and there, + Large, and lazy in flight,-- + Caught by a lift of the breeze, + Tangled among the naked trees,-- + Dropping then, without a sound, + Feather-white, feather-light, + To their rest on the ground. + + Thus the swarming is begun. + Count the leaders, every one + Perfect as a perfect star + Till the slow descent is done. + Look beyond them, see how far + Down the vistas dim and gray, + Multitudes are on the way. + Now a sudden brightness + Dawns within the sombre day, + Over fields of whiteness; + And the sky is swiftly alive + With the flutter and the flight + Of the shimmering bees, that pour + From the hidden door of the hive + Till you can count no more. + + Now on the branches of hemlock and pine + Thickly they settle and cluster and swing, + Bending them low; and the trellised vine + And the dark elm-boughs are traced with a line + Of beauty wherever the white bees cling. + Now they are hiding the wrecks of the flowers, + Softly, softly, covering all, + Over the grave of the summer hours + Spreading a silver pall. + Now they are building the broad roof ledge, + Into a cornice smooth and fair, + Moulding the terrace, from edge to edge, + Into the sweep of a marble stair. + Wonderful workers, swift and dumb, + Numberless myriads, still they come, + Thronging ever faster, faster, faster! + Where is their queen? Who is their master? + The gardens are faded, the fields are frore,-- + What is the honey they toil to store + In the desolate day, where no blossoms gleam? + _Forgetfulness and a dream!_ + + But now the fretful wind awakes; + I hear him girding at the trees; + He strikes the bending boughs, and shakes + The quiet clusters of the bees + To powdery drift; + He tosses them away, + He drives them like spray; + He makes them veer and shift + Around his blustering path. + In clouds blindly whirling, + In rings madly swirling, + Full of crazy wrath, + So furious and fast they fly + They blur the earth and blot the sky + In wild, white mirk. + They fill the air with frozen wings + And tiny, angry, icy stings; + They blind the eyes, and choke the breath, + They dance a maddening dance of death + Around their work, + Sweeping the cover from the hill, + Heaping the hollows deeper still, + Effacing every line and mark, + And swarming, storming in the dark + Through the long night; + Until, at dawn, the wind lies down + Weary of fight; + The last torn cloud, with trailing gown, + Passes the open gates of light; + And the white bees are lost in flight. + + Look how the landscape glitters wide and still, + Bright with a pure surprise! + The day begins with joy, and all past ill, + Buried in white oblivion, lies + Beneath the snow-drifts under crystal skies. + New hope, new love, new life, new cheer, + Flow in the sunrise beam,-- + The gladness of Apollo when he sees, + Upon the bosom of the wintry year, + The honey-harvest of his wild white bees, + _Forgetfulness and a dream!_ + + +III + +LEGEND + + Listen, my beloved, while the silver morning, like a tranquil vision, + Fills the world around us and our hearts with peace; + Quiet is the close of Aristæus' legend, happy is the ending-- + Listen while I tell you how he found release. + + Many months he wandered far away in sadness, desolately thinking + Only of the vanished joys he could not find; + Till the great Apollo, pitying his shepherd, loosed him from the burden + Of a dark, reluctant, backward-looking mind. + + Then he saw around him all the changeful beauty of the changing seasons, + In the world-wide regions where his journey lay; + Birds that sang to cheer him, flowers that bloomed beside him, stars that + shone to guide him,-- + Traveller's joy was plenty all along the way! + + Everywhere he journeyed strangers made him welcome, listened while he + taught them + Secret lore of field and forest he had learned: + How to train the vines and make the olives fruitful; how to guard the + sheepfolds; + How to stay the fever when the dog-star burned. + + Friendliness and blessing followed in his footsteps; richer were the + harvests, + Happier the dwellings, wheresoe'er he came; + Little children loved him, and he left behind him, in the hour of + parting, + Memories of kindness and a god-like name. + + So he travelled onward, desolate no longer, patient in his seeking, + Reaping all the wayside comfort of his quest; + Till at last in Thracia, high upon Mount Hæmus, far from human dwelling, + Weary Aristæus laid him down to rest. + + Then the honey-makers, clad in downy whiteness, fluttered soft around + him, + Wrapt him in a dreamful slumber pure and deep. + This is life, beloved: first a sheltered garden, then a troubled journey, + Joy and pain of seeking,--and at last we sleep! + +1905. + + + +NEW YEAR'S EVE + + +I + + The other night I had a dream, most clear + And comforting, complete + In every line, a crystal sphere, + And full of intimate and secret cheer. + Therefore I will repeat + That vision, dearest heart, to you, + As of a thing not feigned, but very true, + Yes, true as ever in my life befell; + And you, perhaps, can tell + Whether my dream was really sad or sweet. + + +II + + The shadows flecked the elm-embowered street + I knew so well, long, long ago; + And on the pillared porch where Marguerite + Had sat with me, the moonlight lay like snow. + But she, my comrade and my friend of youth, + Most gaily wise, + Most innocently loved,-- + She of the blue-gray eyes + That ever smiled and ever spoke the truth,-- + From that familiar dwelling, where she moved + Like mirth incarnate in the years before, + Had gone into the hidden house of Death. + I thought the garden wore + White mourning for her blessed innocence, + And the syringa's breath + Came from the corner by the fence + Where she had made her rustic seat, + With fragrance passionate, intense, + As if it breathed a sigh for Marguerite. + My heart was heavy with a sense + Of something good for ever gone. I sought + Vainly for some consoling thought, + Some comfortable word that I could say + To her sad father, whom I visited again + For the first time since she had gone away. + The bell rang shrill and lonely,--then + The door was opened, and I sent my name + To him,--but ah! 'twas Marguerite who came! + There in the dear old dusky room she stood + Beneath the lamp, just as she used to stand, + In tender mocking mood. + "You did not ask for me," she said, + "And so I will not let you take my hand; + But I must hear what secret talk you planned + With father. Come, my friend, be good, + And tell me your affairs of state: + Why you have stayed away and made me wait + So long. Sit down beside me here,-- + And, do you know, it seems a year + Since we have talked together,--why so late?" + Amazed, incredulous, confused with joy + I hardly dared to show, + And stammering like a boy, + I took the place she showed me at her side; + And then the talk flowed on with brimming tide + Through the still night, + While she with influence light + Controlled it, as the moon the flood. + She knew where I had been, what I had done, + What work was planned, and what begun; + My troubles, failures, fears she understood, + And touched them with a heart so kind, + That every care was melted from my mind, + And every hope grew bright, + And life seemed moving on to happy ends. + (Ah, what self-beggared fool was he + That said a woman cannot be + The very best of friends?) + Then there were memories of old times, + Recalled with many a gentle jest; + And at the last she brought the book of rhymes + We made together, trying to translate + The Songs of Heine (hers were always best). + "Now come," she said, + "To-night we will collaborate + Again; I'll put you to the test. + Here's one I never found the way to do,-- + The simplest are the hardest ones, you know,-- + I give this song to you." + And then she read: + _Mein Kind, wir waren Kinder, + Zwei Kinder, jung und froh._ + + * * * * * + + But all the while, a silent question stirred + Within me, though I dared not speak the word: + "Is it herself, and is she truly here, + And was I dreaming when I heard + That she was dead last year? + Or was it true, and is she but a shade + Who brings a fleeting joy to eye and ear, + Cold though so kind, and will she gently fade + When her sweet ghostly part is played + And the light-curtain falls at dawn of day?" + + But while my heart was troubled by this fear + So deeply that I could not speak it out, + Lest all my happiness should disappear, + I thought me of a cunning way + To hide the question and dissolve the doubt. + "Will you not give me now your hand, + Dear Marguerite," I asked, "to touch and hold, + That by this token I may understand + You are the same true friend you were of old?" + She answered with a smile so bright and calm + It seemed as if I saw the morn arise + In the deep heaven of her eyes; + And smiling so, she laid her palm + In mine. Dear God, it was not cold + But warm with vital heat! + "You live!" I cried, "you live, dear Marguerite!" + When I awoke; but strangely comforted, + Although I knew again that she was dead. + + +III + + Yes, there's the dream! And was it sweet or sad? + Dear mistress of my waking and my sleep, + Present reward of all my heart's desire, + Watching with me beside the winter fire, + Interpret now this vision that I had. + But while you read the meaning, let me keep + The touch of you: for the Old Year with storm + Is passing through the midnight, and doth shake + The corners of the house,--and oh! my heart would break + Unless both dreaming and awake + My hand could feel your hand was warm, warm, warm! + +1905. + + + +THE VAIN KING + + + In robes of Tyrian blue the King was drest, + A jewelled collar shone upon his breast, + A giant ruby glittered in his crown: + Lord of rich lands and many a splendid town, + In him the glories of an ancient line + Of sober kings, who ruled by right divine, + Were centred; and to him with loyal awe + The people looked for leadership and law. + Ten thousand knights, the safeguard of the land, + Were like a single sword within his hand; + A hundred courts, with power of life and death, + Proclaimed decrees of justice by his breath; + And all the sacred growths that men had known + Of order and of rule upheld his throne. + + Proud was the King: yet not with such a heart + As fits a man to play a royal part. + Not his the pride that honours as a trust + The right to rule, the duty to be just: + Not his the dignity that bends to bear + The monarch's yoke, the master's load of care, + And labours like the peasant at his gate, + To serve the people and protect the State. + Another pride was his, and other joys: + To him the crown and sceptre were but toys, + With which he played at glory's idle game, + To please himself and win the wreaths of fame. + The throne his fathers held from age to age, + To his ambition seemed a fitting stage + Built for King Martin to display at will, + His mighty strength and universal skill. + No conscious child, that, spoiled with praising, tries + At every step to win admiring eyes, + No favourite mountebank, whose acting draws + From gaping crowds the thunder of applause, + Was vainer than the King: his only thirst + Was to be hailed, in every race, the first. + When tournament was held, in knightly guise + The King would ride the lists and win the prize; + When music charmed the court, with golden lyre + The King would take the stage and lead the choir; + In hunting, his the lance to slay the boar; + In hawking, see his falcon highest soar; + In painting, he would wield the master's brush; + In high debate,--"the King is speaking! Hush!" + Thus, with a restless heart, in every field + He sought renown, and made his subjects yield. + But while he played the petty games of life + His kingdom fell a prey to inward strife; + Corruption through the court unheeded crept, + And on the seat of honour justice slept. + The strong trod down the weak; the helpless poor + Groaned under burdens grievous to endure; + The nation's wealth was spent in vain display, + And weakness wore the nation's heart away. + + Yet think not Earth is blind to human woes-- + Man has more friends and helpers than he knows; + And when a patient people are oppressed, + The land that bore them feels it in her breast. + Spirits of field and flood, of heath and hill, + Are grieved and angry at the spreading ill; + The trees complain together in the night, + Voices of wrath are heard along the height, + And secret vows are sworn, by stream and strand, + To bring the tyrant low and free the land. + + But little recked the pampered King of these; + He heard no voice but such as praise and please. + Flattered and fooled, victor in every sport, + One day he wandered idly with his court + Beside the river, seeking to devise + New ways to show his skill to wondering eyes. + There in the stream a patient angler stood, + And cast his line across the rippling flood. + His silver spoil lay near him on the green: + "Such fish," the courtiers cried, "were never seen! + Three salmon longer than a cloth-yard shaft-- + This man must be the master of his craft!" + "An easy art!" the jealous King replied: + "Myself could learn it better, if I tried, + And catch a hundred larger fish a week-- + Wilt thou accept the challenge, fellow? Speak!" + The angler turned, came near, and bent his knee: + "'Tis not for kings to strive with such as me; + Yet if the King commands it, I obey. + But one condition of the strife I pray: + The fisherman who brings the least to land + Shall do whate'er the other may command." + Loud laughed the King: "A foolish fisher thou! + For I shall win, and rule thee then as now." + + Then to Prince John, a sober soul, sedate + And slow, King Martin left the helm of State, + While to the novel game with eager zest + He all his time and all his powers addressed. + Sure such a sight was never seen before! + In robe and crown the monarch trod the shore; + His golden hooks were decked with feathers fine, + His jewelled reel ran out a silken line. + With kingly strokes he flogged the crystal stream; + Far-off the salmon saw his tackle gleam; + Careless of kings, they eyed with calm disdain + The gaudy lure, and Martin fished in vain. + On Friday, when the week was almost spent, + He scanned his empty creel with discontent, + Called for a net, and cast it far and wide, + And drew--a thousand minnows from the tide! + Then came the angler to conclude the match, + And at the monarch's feet spread out his catch-- + A hundred salmon, greater than before. + "I win!" he cried: "the King must pay the score." + Then Martin, angry, threw his tackle down: + "Rather than lose this game I'd lose my crown!" + "Nay, thou hast lost them both," the angler said; + And as he spoke a wondrous light was shed + Around his form; he dropped his garments mean, + And in his place the River-god was seen. + "Thy vanity has brought thee in my power, + And thou must pay the forfeit at this hour: + For thou hast shown thyself a royal fool, + Too proud to angle, and too vain to rule, + Eager to win in every trivial strife,-- + Go! Thou shalt fish for minnows all thy life!" + Wrathful, the King the magic sentence heard; + He strove to answer, but he only _chirr-r-ed_: + His royal robe was changed to wings of blue, + His crown a ruby crest,--away he flew! + + So every summer day along the stream + The vain King-fisher darts, an azure gleam, + And scolds the angler with a mocking scream. + +April, 1904. + + + +THE FOOLISH FIR-TREE + + + _A tale that the poet Rückert told + To German children, in days of old; + Disguised in a random, rollicking rhyme + Like a merry mummer of ancient time, + And sent, in its English dress, to please + The little folk of the Christmas trees._ + + + A little fir grew in the midst of the wood + Contented and happy, as young trees should. + His body was straight and his boughs were clean; + And summer and winter the bountiful sheen + Of his needles bedecked him, from top to root, + In a beautiful, all-the-year, evergreen suit. + + But a trouble came into his heart one day, + When he saw that the other trees were gay + In the wonderful raiment that summer weaves + Of manifold shapes and kinds of leaves: + He looked at his needles so stiff and small, + And thought that his dress was the poorest of all. + Then jealousy clouded the little tree's mind, + And he said to himself, "It was not very kind + To give such an ugly old dress to a tree! + If the fays of the forest would only ask me, + I'd tell them how I should like to be dressed,-- + In a garment of gold, to bedazzle the rest!" + So he fell asleep, but his dreams were bad. + When he woke in the morning, his heart was glad; + For every leaf that his boughs could hold + Was made of the brightest beaten gold. + I tell you, children, the tree was proud; + He was something above the common crowd; + And he tinkled his leaves, as if he would say + To a pedlar who happened to pass that way, + "Just look at me! Don't you think I am fine? + And wouldn't you like such a dress as mine?" + "Oh, yes!" said the man, "and I really guess + I must fill my pack with your beautiful dress." + So he picked the golden leaves with care, + And left the little tree shivering there. + + "Oh, why did I wish for golden leaves?" + The fir-tree said, "I forgot that thieves + Would be sure to rob me in passing by. + If the fairies would give me another try, + I'd wish for something that cost much less, + And be satisfied with glass for my dress!" + Then he fell asleep; and, just as before, + The fairies granted his wish once more. + When the night was gone, and the sun rose clear, + The tree was a crystal chandelier; + And it seemed, as he stood in the morning light, + That his branches were covered with jewels bright. + "Aha!" said the tree. "This is something great!" + And he held himself up, very proud and straight; + But a rude young wind through the forest dashed, + In a reckless temper, and quickly smashed + The delicate leaves. With a clashing sound + They broke into pieces and fell on the ground, + Like a silvery, shimmering shower of hail, + And the tree stood naked and bare to the gale. + + Then his heart was sad; and he cried, "Alas + For my beautiful leaves of shining glass! + Perhaps I have made another mistake + In choosing a dress so easy to break. + If the fairies only would hear me again + I'd ask them for something both pretty and plain: + It wouldn't cost much to grant my request,-- + In leaves of green lettuce I'd like to be dressed!" + By this time the fairies were laughing, I know; + But they gave him his wish in a second; and so + With leaves of green lettuce, all tender and sweet, + The tree was arrayed, from his head to his feet. + "I knew it!" he cried, "I was sure I could find + The sort of a suit that would be to my mind. + There's none of the trees has a prettier dress, + And none as attractive as I am, I guess." + But a goat, who was taking an afternoon walk, + By chance overheard the fir-tree's talk. + So he came up close for a nearer view;-- + "My salad!" he bleated, "I think so too! + You're the most attractive kind of a tree, + And I want your leaves for my five-o'clock tea." + So he ate them all without saying grace, + And walked away with a grin on his face; + While the little tree stood in the twilight dim, + With never a leaf on a single limb. + + Then he sighed and groaned; but his voice was weak-- + He was so ashamed that he could not speak. + He knew at last he had been a fool, + To think of breaking the forest rule, + And choosing a dress himself to please, + Because he envied the other trees. + But it couldn't be helped, it was now too late, + He must make up his mind to a leafless fate! + So he let himself sink in a slumber deep, + But he moaned and he tossed in his troubled sleep, + Till the morning touched him with joyful beam, + And he woke to find it was all a dream. + For there in his evergreen dress he stood, + A pointed fir in the midst of the wood! + His branches were sweet with the balsam smell, + His needles were green when the white snow fell. + And always contented and happy was he,-- + The very best kind of a Christmas tree. + + + +"GRAN' BOULE" + +A SEAMAN'S TALE OF THE SEA + + + We men hat go down for a livin' in ships to the sea,-- + We love it a different way from you poets that 'bide on the land. + We are fond of it, sure! But, you take it as comin' from me, + There's a fear and a hate in our love that a landsman can't understand. + + Oh, who could help likin' the salty smell, and the blue + Of the waves that are lazily breathin' as if they dreamed in the sun? + She's a Sleepin' Beauty, the sea,--but you can't tell what she'll do; + And the seamen never trust her,--they know too well what she's done! + + She's a wench like one that I saw in a singin'-play,-- + Carmen they called her,--Lord, what a life her lovers did lead! + She'd cuddle and kiss you, and sing you and dance you away; + And then,--she'd curse you, and break you, and throw you down like a + weed. + + You may chance it awhile with the girls like that, if you please; + But you want a woman to trust when you settle down with a wife; + And a seaman's thought of growin' old at his ease + Is a snug little house on the land to shelter the rest of his life. + + So that was old Poisson's dream,--did you know the Cap'? + A brown little Frenchman, clever, and brave, and quick as a fish,-- + Had a wife and kids on the other side of the map,-- + And a rose-covered cottage for them and him was his darlin' wish. + + "I 'ave sail," says he, in his broken-up Frenchy talk, + "Mos' forty-two year; I 'ave go on all part of de worl' dat ees wet. + I'm seeck of de boat and de water. I rader walk + Wid ma Josephine in one garden; an' eef we get tire', we set! + + "You see dat _bateau_, _Sainte Brigitte_? I bring 'er dh'are + From de Breton coas', by gar, jus' feefteen year bifore. + She ole w'en she come on Kebec, but _Holloway Frères_ + Dey buy 'er, an' hire me run 'er along dat dam' Nort' Shore. + + "Dose engine one leetl' bit cranky,--too ole, you see,-- + She roll and peetch in de wave'. But I lak' 'er pretty well; + An' dat sheep she lak' 'er captaine, sure, dat's me! + Wit' forty ton coal in de bunker, I tek' dat sheep t'rou' hell. + + "But I don' wan' risk it no more; I had _bonne chance_: + I save already ten t'ousan' dollar', dat's plenty I s'pose! + Nex' winter I buy dat house wid de garden on France + An' I tell _adieu_ to de sea, and I leev' on de lan' in ripose." + + All summer he talked of his house,--you could see the flowers + Abloom, and the pear-trees trained on the garden-wall so trim, + And the Captain awalkin' and smokin' away the hours,-- + He thought he had done with the sea, but the sea hadn't done with him! + + It was late in the fall when he made the last regular run, + Clear down to the Esquimault Point and back with his rickety ship; + She hammered and pounded a lot, for the storms had begun; + But he drove her,--and went for his season's pay at the end of the trip. + + Now the Holloway Brothers are greedy and thin little men, + With their eyes set close together, and money's their only God; + So they told the Cap' he must run the "Bridget" again, + To fetch a cargo from Moisie, two thousand quintals of cod. + + He said the season was over. They said: "Not yet. + You finish the whole of your job, old man, or you don't draw a cent!" + (They had the "Bridget" insured for all they could get.) + And the Captain objected, and cursed, and cried. But he _went_. + + They took on the cargo at Moisie, and folks beside,-- + Three traders, a priest, and a couple of nuns, and a girl + For a school at Quebec,--when the Captain saw her he sighed, + And said: "Ma littl' Fifi got hair lak' dat, all curl!" + + The snow had fallen a foot, and the wind was high, + When the "Bridget" butted her way thro' the billows on Moisie bar. + The darkness grew with the gale, not a star in the sky, + And the Captain swore: "We mus' make _Sept Isles_ to-night, by gar!" + + He couldn't go back, for he didn't dare to turn; + The sea would have thrown the ship like a mustang noosed with a rope; + For the monstrous waves were leapin' high astern, + And the shelter of Seven Island Bay was the only hope. + + There's a bunch of broken hills half sunk in the mouth + Of the bay, with their jagged peaks afoam; and the Captain thought + He could pass to the north; but the sea kept shovin' him south, + With her harlot hands, in the snow-blind murk, till she had him caught. + + She had waited forty years for a night like this,-- + Did he think he could leave her now, and live in a cottage, the fool? + She headed him straight for the island he couldn't miss; + And heaved his boat in the dark,--and smashed it against _Gran' Boule_. + + How the Captain and half of the people clambered ashore, + Through the surf and the snow in the gloom of that horrible night, + There's no one ever will know. For two days more + The death-white shroud of the tempest covered the island from sight. + + How they suffered, and struggled, and died, will never be told; + We discovered them all at last when we reached _Gran' Boule_ with a boat; + The drowned and the frozen were lyin' stiff and cold, + And the poor little girl with the curls was wrapped in the Captain's + coat. + + Go write your song of the sea as the landsmen do, + And call her your "great sweet mother," your "bride," and all the rest; + She was made to be loved,--but remember, she won't love you,-- + The men who trust her the least are the sailors who know her the best. + + + +HEROES OF THE "TITANIC" + + + Honour the brave who sleep + Where the lost "Titanic" lies, + The men who knew what a man must do + When he looks Death in the eyes. + + "Women and children first,"-- + Ah, strong and tender cry! + The sons whom women had borne and nursed, + Remembered,--and dared to die. + + The boats crept off in the dark: + The great ship groaned: and then,-- + O stars of the night, who saw that sight, + Bear witness, _These were men!_ + +November 9, 1912. + + + +THE STANDARD-BEARER + + +I + + "How can I tell," Sir Edmund said, + "Who has the right or the wrong o' this thing? + Cromwell stands for the people's cause, + Charles is crowned by the ancient laws; + English meadows are sopping red, + Englishmen striking each other dead,-- + Times are black as a raven's wing. + Out of the ruck and the murk I see + Only one thing! + The King has trusted his banner to me, + And I must fight for the King." + + +II + + Into the thick of the Edgehill fight + Sir Edmund rode with a shout; and the ring + Of grim-faced, hard-hitting Parliament men + Swallowed him up,--it was one against ten! + He fought for the standard with all his might, + Never again did he come to sight-- + Victor, hid by the raven's wing! + After the battle had passed we found + Only one thing,-- + The hand of Sir Edmund gripped around + The banner-staff of his King. + +1914. + + + +THE PROUD LADY + + + When Stävoren town was in its prime + And queened the Zuyder Zee, + Her ships went out to every clime + With costly merchantry. + + A lady dwelt in that rich town, + The fairest in all the land; + She walked abroad in a velvet gown, + With many rings on her hand. + + Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, + Her lips as coral red, + Her roving eyes were blue and bold, + And her heart with pride was fed. + + For she was proud of her father's ships, + As she watched them gaily pass; + And pride looked out of her eyes and lips + When she saw herself in the glass. + + "Now come," she said to the captains ten, + Who were ready to put to sea, + "Ye are all my men and my father's men, + And what will ye do for me?" + + "Go north and south, go east and west, + And get me gifts," she said. + "And he who bringeth me home the best, + With that man will I wed." + + So they all fared forth, and sought with care + In many a famous mart, + For satins and silks and jewels rare, + To win that lady's heart. + + She looked at them all with never a thought, + And careless put them by; + "I am not fain of the things ye brought, + Enough of these have I." + + The last that came was the head of the fleet, + His name was Jan Borel; + He bent his knee at the lady's feet,-- + In truth he loved her well. + + "I've brought thee home the best i' the world, + A shipful of Danzig corn!" + She stared at him long; her red lips curled, + Her blue eyes filled with scorn. + + "Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl, + A loon thou art," she said. + "Am I a starving beggar girl? + Shall I ever lack for bread?" + + "Go empty all thy sacks of grain + Into the nearest sea, + And never show thy face again + To make a mock of me." + + Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, + But in the harbour cast + The sacks of golden corn he brought, + And groaned when fell the last. + + Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, + And out to sea he bore; + He passed the Helder in a gale + And came again no more. + + But the grains of corn went drifting down + Like devil-scattered seed, + To sow the harbour of the town + With a wicked growth of weed. + + The roots were thick and the silt and sand + Were gathered day by day, + Till not a furlong out from land + A shoal had barred the way. + + Then Stävoren town saw evil years, + No ships could out or in, + The boats lay rotting at the piers, + And the mouldy grain in the bin. + + The grass-grown streets were all forlorn, + The town in ruin stood, + The lady's velvet gown was torn, + Her rings were sold for food. + + Her father had perished long ago, + But the lady held her pride, + She walked with a scornful step and slow, + Till at last in her rags she died. + + Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, + When the midnight moon shines free, + A woman walks in a velvet gown + And scatters corn in the sea. + +1917. + + + + +LYRICS OF LABOUR AND ROMANCE + + + +A MILE WITH ME + + + O who will walk a mile with me + Along life's merry way? + A comrade blithe and full of glee, + Who dares to laugh out loud and free, + And let his frolic fancy play, + Like a happy child, through the flowers gay + That fill the field and fringe the way + Where he walks a mile with me. + + And who will walk a mile with me + Along life's weary way? + A friend whose heart has eyes to see + The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea, + And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,-- + A friend who knows, and dares to say, + The brave, sweet words that cheer the way + Where he walks a mile with me. + + With such a comrade, such a friend, + I fain would walk till journeys end, + Through summer sunshine, winter rain, + And then?--Farewell, we shall meet again! + + + +THE THREE BEST THINGS + + +I + +WORK + + Let me but do my work from day to day, + In field or forest, at the desk or loom, + In roaring market-place or tranquil room; + Let me but find it in my heart to say, + When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, + "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; + Of all who live, I am the one by whom + This work can best be done in the right way." + + Then shall I see it not too great, nor small, + To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; + Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours, + And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall + At eventide, to play and love and rest, + Because I know for me my work is best. + + +II + +LOVE + + Let me but love my love without disguise, + Nor wear a mask of fashion old or new, + Nor wait to speak till I can hear a clue, + Nor play a part to shine in others' eyes, + Nor bow my knees to what my heart denies; + But what I am, to that let me be true, + And let me worship where my love is due, + And so through love and worship let me rise. + + For love is but the heart's immortal thirst + To be completely known and all forgiven, + Even as sinful souls that enter Heaven: + So take me, dear, and understand my worst, + And freely pardon it, because confessed, + And let me find in loving thee, my best. + + +III + +LIFE + + Let me but live my life from year to year, + With forward face and unreluctant soul; + Not hurrying to, nor turning from, the goal; + Not mourning for the things that disappear + In the dim past, nor holding back in fear + From what the future veils; but with a whole + And happy heart, that pays its toll + To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer. + + So let the way wind up the hill or down, + O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy: + Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, + New friendship, high adventure, and a crown, + My heart will keep the courage of the quest, + And hope the road's last turn will be the best. + + + +RELIANCE + + + Not to the swift, the race: + Not to the strong, the fight: + Not to the righteous, perfect grace + Not to the wise, the light. + + But often faltering feet + Come surest to the goal; + And they who walk in darkness meet + The sunrise of the soul. + + A thousand times by night + The Syrian hosts have died; + A thousand times the vanquished right + Hath risen, glorified. + + The truth the wise men sought + Was spoken by a child; + The alabaster box was brought + In trembling hands defiled. + + Not from my torch, the gleam, + But from the stars above: + Not from my heart, life's crystal stream, + But from the depths of Love. + + + +DOORS OF DARING + + + The mountains that inclose the vale + With walls of granite, steep and high, + Invite the fearless foot to scale + Their stairway toward the sky. + + The restless, deep, dividing sea + That flows and foams from shore to shore, + Calls to its sunburned chivalry, + "Push out, set sail, explore!" + + The bars of life at which we fret, + That seem to prison and control, + Are but the doors of daring, set + Ajar before the soul. + + Say not, "Too poor," but freely give; + Sigh not, "Too weak," but boldly try; + You never can begin to live + Until you dare to die. + + + +THE CHILD IN THE GARDEN + + + When to the garden of untroubled thought + I came of late, and saw the open door, + And wished again to enter, and explore + The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought, + And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught, + It seemed some purer voice must speak before + I dared to tread that garden loved of yore, + That Eden lost unknown and found unsought. + + Then just within the gate I saw a child,-- + A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear; + He held his hands to me, and softly smiled + With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear: + "Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me; + I am the little child you used to be." + + + +LOVE'S REASON + + + For that thy face is fair I love thee not; + Nor yet because thy brown benignant eyes + Have sudden gleams of gladness and surprise, + Like woodland brooks that cross a sunlit spot: + Nor for thy body, born without a blot, + And loveliest when it shines with no disguise + Pure as the star of Eve in Paradise,-- + For all these outward things I love thee not: + + But for a something in thy form and face, + Thy looks and ways, of primal harmony; + A certain soothing charm, a vital grace + That breathes of the eternal womanly, + And makes me feel the warmth of Nature's breast, + When in her arms, and thine, I sink to rest. + + + +THE ECHO IN THE HEART + + + It's little I can tell + About the birds in books; + And yet I know them well, + By their music and their looks: + When May comes down the lane, + Her airy lovers throng + To welcome her with song, + And follow in her train: + Each minstrel weaves his part + In that wild-flowery strain, + And I know them all again + By their echo in my heart. + + It's little that I care + About my darling's place + In books of beauty rare, + Or heraldries of race: + For when she steps in view, + It matters not to me + What her sweet type may be, + Of woman, old or new. + I can't explain the art, + But I know her for my own, + Because her lightest tone + Wakes an echo in my heart. + + + +"UNDINE" + + + 'Twas far away and long ago, + When I was but a dreaming boy, + This fairy tale of love and woe + Entranced my heart with tearful joy; + And while with white Undine I wept + Your spirit,--ah, how strange it seems,-- + Was cradled in some star, and slept, + Unconscious of her coming dreams. + + + +"RENCONTRE" + + + Oh, was I born too soon, my dear, or were you born too late, + That I am going out the door while you come in the gate? + For you the garden blooms galore, the castle is _en fête_; + You are the coming guest, my dear,--for me the horses wait. + + I know the mansion well, my dear, its rooms so rich and wide; + If you had only come before I might have been your guide, + And hand in hand with you explore the treasures that they hide; + But you have come to stay, my dear, and I prepare to ride. + + Then walk with me an hour, my dear, and pluck the reddest rose + Amid the white and crimson store with which your garden glows,-- + A single rose,--I ask no more of what your love bestows; + It is enough to give, my dear,--a flower to him who goes. + + The House of Life is yours, my dear, for many and many a day, + But I must ride the lonely shore, the Road to Far Away: + So bring the stirrup-cup and pour a brimming draught, I pray, + And when you take the road, my dear, I'll meet you on the way. + + + +LOVE IN A LOOK + + + Let me but feel thy look's embrace, + Transparent, pure, and warm, + And I'll not ask to touch thy face, + Or fold thee in mine arm. + For in thine eyes a girl doth rise, + Arrayed in candid bliss, + And draws me to her with a charm + More close than any kiss. + + A loving-cup of golden wine, + Songs of a silver brook, + And fragrant breaths of eglantine, + Are mingled in thy look. + More fair they are than any star, + Thy topaz eyes divine-- + And deep within their trysting-nook + Thy spirit blends with mine. + + + +MY APRIL LADY + + + When down the stair at morning + The sunbeams round her float, + Sweet rivulets of laughter + Are rippling in her throat; + The gladness of her greeting + Is gold without alloy; + And in the morning sunlight + I think her name is Joy. + + When in the evening twilight + The quiet book-room lies, + We read the sad old ballads, + While from her hidden eyes + The tears are falling, falling, + That give her heart relief; + And in the evening twilight, + I think her name is Grief. + + My little April lady, + Of sunshine and of showers + She weaves the old spring magic, + And my heart breaks in flowers! + But when her moods are ended, + She nestles like a dove; + Then, by the pain and rapture, + I know her name is Love. + + + +A LOVER'S ENVY + + + I envy every flower that blows + Along the meadow where she goes, + And every bird that sings to her, + And every breeze that brings to her + The fragrance of the rose. + + I envy every poet's rhyme + That moves her heart at eventime, + And every tree that wears for her + Its brightest bloom, and bears for her + The fruitage of its prime. + + I envy every Southern night + That paves her path with moonbeams white, + And silvers all the leaves for her, + And in their shadow weaves for her + A dream of dear delight. + + I envy none whose love requires + Of her a gift, a task that tires: + I only long to live to her, + I only ask to give to her, + All that her heart desires. + + + +FIRE-FLY CITY + + + Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, + Bearing me far away, after a perfect day of love's delight: + Wakeful with all the sad-sweet memories of parting, + I lift the narrow window-shade and look out on the night. + + Lonely the land unknown, and like a river flowing, + Forest and field and hill are gliding backward still athwart my dream; + Till in that country strange, and ever stranger growing, + A magic city full of lights begins to glow and gleam. + + Wide through the landscape dim the lamps are lit in millions; + Long avenues unfold clear-shining lines of gold across the green; + Clusters and rings of light, and luminous pavilions,-- + Oh, who will tell the city's name, and what these wonders mean? + + Why do they beckon me, and what have they to show me? + Crowds in the blazing street, mirth where the feasters meet, kisses and + wine: + Many to laugh with me, but never one to know me: + A cityful of stranger-hearts and none to beat with mine! + + Look how the glittering lines are wavering and lifting,-- + Softly the breeze of night scatters the vision bright: and, passing + fair, + Over the meadow-grass and through the forest drifting, + The Fire-Fly City of the Dark is lost in empty air! + + + +THE GENTLE TRAVELLER + + + "Through many a land your journey ran, + And showed the best the world can boast: + Now tell me, traveller, if you can, + The place that pleased you most." + + She laid her hands upon my breast, + And murmured gently in my ear, + "The place I loved and liked the best + Was in your arms, my dear!" + + + +NEPENTHE + + + Yes, it was like you to forget, + And cancel in the welcome of your smile + My deep arrears of debt, + And with the putting forth of both your hands + To sweep away the bars my folly set + Between us--bitter thoughts, and harsh demands, + And reckless deeds that seemed untrue + To love, when all the while + My heart was aching through and through + For you, sweet heart, and only you. + + Yet, as I turned to come to you again, + I thought there must be many a mile + Of sorrowful reproach to cross, + And many an hour of mutual pain + To bear, until I could make plain + That all my pride was but the fear of loss, + And all my doubt the shadow of despair + To win a heart so innocent and fair; + And even that which looked most ill + Was but the fever-fret and effort vain + To dull the thirst which you alone could still. + + But as I turned, the desert miles were crossed, + And when I came, the weary hours were sped! + For there you stood beside the open door, + Glad, gracious, smiling as before, + And with bright eyes and tender hands outspread + Restored me to the Eden I had lost. + Never a word of cold reproof, + No sharp reproach, no glances that accuse + The culprit whom they hold aloof,-- + Ah, 'tis not thus that other women use + The empire they have won! + For there is none like you, beloved,--none + Secure enough to do what you have done. + Where did you learn this heavenly art,-- + You sweetest and most wise of all that live,-- + With silent welcome to impart + Assurance of the royal heart + That never questions where it would forgive? + + None but a queen could pardon me like this! + My sovereign lady, let me lay + Within each rosy palm a loyal kiss + Of penitence, then close the fingers up, + Thus--thus! Now give the cup + Of full nepenthe in your crimson mouth, + And come--the garden blooms with bliss, + The wind is in the south, + The rose of love with dew is wet-- + Dear, it was like you to forget! + + + +DAY AND NIGHT + + + _How long is the night, brother, + And how long is the day?_ + Oh, the day's too short for a happy task, + And the day's too short for play; + And the night's too short for the bliss of love, + For look, how the edge of the sky grows gray, + While the stars die out in the blue above, + And the wan moon fades away. + + _How short is the day, brother, + And how short is the night?_ + Oh, the day's too long for a heavy task, + And long, long, long is the night, + When the wakeful hours are filled with pain, + And the sad heart waits for the thing it fears, + And sighs for the dawn to come again,-- + The night is a thousand years! + + _How long is a life, dear God, + And how fast does it flow?_ + The measure of life is a flame in the soul: + It is neither swift nor slow. + But the vision of time is the shadow cast + By the fleeting world on the body's wall; + When it fades there is neither future nor past, + But love is all in all. + + + +HESPER + + + Her eyes are like the evening air, + Her voice is like a rose, + Her lips are like a lovely song, + That ripples as it flows, + And she herself is sweeter than + The sweetest thing she knows. + + A slender, haunting, twilight form + Of wonder and surprise, + She seemed a fairy or a child, + Till, deep within her eyes, + I saw the homeward-leading star + Of womanhood arise. + + + +ARRIVAL + + + Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land, + Along a path I had not traced and could not understand, + I travelled fast and far for this,--to take thee by the hand. + + A pilgrim knowing not the shrine where he would bend his knee, + A mariner without a dream of what his port would be, + So fared I with a seeking heart until I came to thee. + + O cooler than a grove of palm in some heat-weary place, + O fairer than an isle of calm after the wild sea race, + The quiet room adorned with flowers where first I saw thy face! + + Then furl the sail, let fall the oar, forget the paths of foam! + The fate that made me wander far at last has brought me home + To thee, dear haven of my heart, and I no more will roam. + + + +DEPARTURE + + + Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, + And why is the garden so gay? + Do you know that my days of delight are done, + Do you know I am going away? + If you covered your face with a cloud, I'd dream + You were sorry for me in my pain, + And the heavily drooping flowers would seem + To be weeping with me in the rain. + + But why is your head so low, sweet heart, + And why are your eyes overcast? + Are you crying because you know we must part, + Do you think this embrace is our last? + Then kiss me again, and again, and again, + Look up as you bid me good-bye! + For your face is too dear for the stain of a tear, + And your smile is the sun in my sky. + + + +THE BLACK BIRDS + + +I + + Once, only once, I saw it clear,-- + That Eden every human heart has dreamed + A hundred times, but always far away! + Ah, well do I remember how it seemed, + Through the still atmosphere + Of that enchanted day, + To lie wide open to my weary feet: + A little land of love and joy and rest, + With meadows of soft green, + Rosy with cyclamen, and sweet + With delicate breath of violets unseen,-- + And, tranquil 'mid the bloom + As if it waited for a coming guest, + A little house of peace and joy and love + Was nested like a snow-white dove. + + +II + + From the rough mountain where I stood, + Homesick for happiness, + Only a narrow valley and a darkling wood + To cross, and then the long distress + Of solitude would be forever past,-- + I should be home at last. + But not too soon! oh, let me linger here + And feed my eyes, hungry with sorrow, + On all this loveliness, so near, + And mine to-morrow! + + +III + + Then, from the wood, across the silvery blue, + A dark bird flew, + Silent, with sable wings. + Close in his wake another came,-- + Fragments of midnight floating through + The sunset flame,-- + Another and another, weaving rings + Of blackness on the primrose sky,-- + Another, and another, look, a score, + A hundred, yes, a thousand rising heavily + From that accursed, dumb, and ancient wood, + They boiled into the lucid air + Like smoke from some deep caldron of despair! + And more, and more, and ever more, + The numberless, ill-omened brood + Flapping their ragged plumes, + Possessed the landscape and the evening light + With menaces and glooms. + Oh, dark, dark, dark they hovered o'er the place + Where once I saw the little house so white + Amid the flowers, covering every trace + Of beauty from my troubled sight,-- + And suddenly it was night! + + +IV + + At break of day I crossed the wooded vale; + And while the morning made + A trembling light among the tree-tops pale, + I saw the sable birds on every limb, + Clinging together closely in the shade, + And croaking placidly their surly hymn. + But, oh, the little land of peace and love + That those night-loving wings had poised above,-- + Where was it gone? + Lost, lost, forevermore! + Only a cottage, dull and gray, + In the cold light of dawn, + With iron bars across the door: + Only a garden where the drooping head + Of one sad rose, foreboding its decay, + Hung o'er a barren bed: + Only a desolate field that lay + Untilled beneath the desolate day,-- + Where Eden seemed to bloom I found but these! + So, wondering, I passed along my way, + With anger in my heart, too deep for words, + Against that grove of evil-sheltering trees, + And the black magic of the croaking birds. + + + +WITHOUT DISGUISE + + + If I have erred in showing all my heart, + And lost your favour by a lack of pride; + If standing like a beggar at your side + With naked feet, I have forgot the art + Of those who bargain well in passion's mart, + And win the thing they want by what they hide; + Be mine the fault as mine the hope denied, + Be mine the lover's and the loser's part. + + The sin, if sin it was, I do repent, + And take the penance on myself alone; + Yet after I have borne the punishment, + I shall not fear to stand before the throne + Of Love with open heart, and make this plea: + "At least I have not lied to her nor Thee!" + + + +AN HOUR + + + You only promised me a single hour: + But in that hour I journeyed through a year + Of life: the joy of finding you,--the fear + Of losing you again,--the sense of power + To make you all my own,--the sudden shower + Of tears that came because you were more dear + Than words could ever tell you,--then,--the clear + Soft rapture when I plucked love's crimson flower. + + An hour,--a year,--I felt your bosom rise + And fall with mystic tides, and saw the gleam + Of undiscovered stars within your eyes,-- + A year,--an hour? I knew not, for the stream + Of love had carried me to Paradise, + Where all the forms of Time are like a dream. + + + +"RAPPELLE-TOI" + + + Remember, when the timid light + Through the enchanted hall of dawn is gleaming; + Remember, when the pensive night + Beneath her silver-sprinkled veil walks dreaming; + When pleasure calls thee and thy heart beats high, + When tender joys through evening shades draw nigh, + Hark, from the woodland deeps + A gentle whisper creeps, + Remember! + + Remember, when the hand of fate + My life from thine forevermore has parted; + When sorrow, exile, and the weight + Of lonely years have made me heavy-hearted; + Think of my loyal love, my last adieu; + Absence and time are naught, if we are true; + Long as my heart shall beat, + To thine it will repeat, + Remember! + + Remember, when the cool, dark tomb + Receives my heart into its quiet keeping, + And some sweet flower begins to bloom + Above the grassy mound where I am sleeping; + Ah then, my face thou nevermore shalt see, + But still my soul will linger close to thee, + And in the holy place of night, + The litany of love recite,-- + Remember! + +_Freely rendered from the French of Alfred de Musset._ + + + +LOVE'S NEARNESS + + + I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer + Across the sea; + And when the waves reflect the moon's pale shimmer + I think of thee. + + I see thy form when down the distant highway + The dust-clouds rise; + In darkest night, above the mountain by-way + I see thine eyes. + + I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning + Aloud rejoice; + And on the lonely moor in silence yearning + I hear thy voice. + + I dwell with thee; though thou art far removed, + Yet thou art near. + The sun goes down, the stars shine out,--Beloved + If thou wert here! + +_From the German of Goethe_, 1898. + + + +TWO SONGS OF HEINE + + +I + +"EIN FICHTENBAUM" + + A fir-tree standeth lonely + On a barren northern height, + Asleep, while winter covers + His rest with robes of white. + + In dreams, he sees a palm-tree + In the golden morning-land; + She droops alone and silent + In burning wastes of sand. + + +II + +"DU BIST WIE EINE BLUME" + + Fair art thou as a flower + And innocent and shy: + I look on thee and sorrow; + I grieve, I know not why. + + I long to lay, in blessing, + My hand upon thy brow, + And pray that God may keep thee + As fair and pure as now. + +1872. + + + +EIGHT ECHOES FROM THE POEMS OF AUGUSTE ANGELLIER + + +I + +THE IVORY CRADLE + + The cradle I have made for thee + Is carved of orient ivory, + And curtained round with wavy silk + More white than hawthorn-bloom or milk. + + A twig of box, a lilac spray, + Will drive the goblin-horde away; + And charm thy childlike heart to keep + Her happy dream and virgin sleep. + + Within that pure and fragrant nest, + I'll rock thy gentle soul to rest, + With tender songs we need not fear + To have a passing angel hear. + + Ah, long and long I fain would hold + The snowy curtain's guardian fold + Around thy crystal visions, born + In clearness of the early morn. + + But look, the sun is glowing red + With triumph in his golden bed; + Aurora's virgin whiteness dies + In crimson glory of the skies. + + The rapid flame will burn its way + Through these white curtains, too, one day; + The ivory cradle will be left + Undone, and broken, and bereft. + + +II + +DREAMS + + Often I dream your big blue eyes, + Though loth their meaning to confess, + Regard me with a clear surprise + Of dawning tenderness. + + Often I dream you gladly hear + The words I hardly dare to breathe,-- + The words that falter in their fear + To tell what throbs beneath. + + Often I dream your hand in mine + Falls like a flower at eventide, + And down the path we leave a line + Of footsteps side by side. + + But ah, in all my dreams of bliss, + In passion's hunger, fever's drouth, + I never dare to dream of this: + My lips upon your mouth. + + And so I dream your big blue eyes, + That look on me with tenderness, + Grow wide, and deep, and sad, and wise, + And dim with dear distress. + + +III + +THE GARLAND OF SLEEP + + A wreath of poppy flowers, + With leaves of lotus blended, + Is carved on Life's facade of hours, + From night to night suspended. + + Along the columned wall, + From birth's low portal starting, + It flows, with even rise and fall, + To death's dark door of parting. + + How short each measured arc, + How brief the columns' number! + The wreath begins and ends in dark, + And leads from sleep to slumber. + + The marble garland seems, + With braided leaf and bloom, + To deck the palace of our dreams + As if it were a tomb. + + +IV + +TRANQUIL HABIT + + Dear tranquil Habit, with her silent hands, + Doth heal our deepest wounds from day to day + With cooling, soothing oil, and firmly lay + Around the broken heart her gentle bands. + + Her nursing is as calm as Nature's care; + She doth not weep with us; yet none the less + Her quiet fingers weave forgetfulness,-- + We fall asleep in peace when she is there. + + Upon the mirror of the mind her breath + Is like a cloud, to hide the fading trace + Of that dear smile, of that remembered face, + Whose presence were the joy and pang of death. + + And he who clings to sorrow overmuch, + Weeping for withered grief, has cause to bless, + More than all cries of pity and distress,-- + Dear tranquil Habit, thy consoling touch! + + +V + +THE OLD BRIDGE + + On the old, old bridge, with its crumbling stones + All covered with lichens red and gray, + Two lovers were talking in sweet low tones: + And we were they! + + As he leaned to breathe in her willing ear + The love that he vowed would never die, + He called her his darling, his dove most dear: + And he was I! + + She covered her face from the pale moonlight + With her trembling hands, but her eyes looked through, + And listened and listened with long delight: + And she was you! + + On the old, old bridge, where the lichens rust, + Two lovers are learning the same old lore; + He tells his love, and she looks her trust: + But we,--no more! + + +VI + +EYES AND LIPS + + +1 + + Our silent eyes alone interpreted + The new-born feeling in the heart of each: + In yours I read your sorrow without speech, + Your lonely struggle in their tears unshed. + Behind their dreamy sweetness, as a veil, + I saw the moving lights of trouble shine; + And then my eyes were brightened as with wine, + My spirit reeled to see your face grow pale! + + Our deepening love, that is not yet allowed + Another language than the eyes, doth learn + To speak it perfectly: above the crowd + Our looks exchange avowals and desires,-- + Like wave-divided beacon lights that burn, + And talk to one another by their fires. + + +2 + + When I embrace her in a fragrant shrine + Of climbing roses, my first kiss shall fall + On you, sweet eyes, that mutely told me all,-- + Through you my soul will rise to make her mine. + Upon your drooping lids, blue-veined and fair, + The touch of tenderness I first will lay, + You springs of joy, lights of my gloomy day, + Whose dear discovered secret bade me dare! + + And when you open, eyes of my fond dove, + Your look will shine with new delight, made sure + By this forerunner of a faithful love. + Tis just, dear eyes, so pensive and so pure, + That you should bear the sealing kisses true + Of love unhoped that came to me through you. + + +3 + + This was my thought; but when beneath the rose + That hides the lonely bench where lovers rest, + In friendly dusk I held her on my breast + For one brief moment,--while I saw you close, + Dear, yielding eyes, as if your lids, blue-veined + And pure, were meekly fain at last to bear + The proffered homage of my wistful prayer,-- + In that high moment, by your grace obtained, + + Forgetting your avowals, your alarms, + Your anguish and your tears, sweet weary eyes, + Forgetting that you gave her to my arms, + I broke my promise; and my first caress, + Ungrateful, sought her lips in sweet surprise,-- + Her lips, which breathed a word of tenderness! + + +VII + +AN EVOCATION + + When first upon my brow I felt your kiss, + A sudden splendour filled me, like the ray + That promptly runs to crown the hills with bliss + Of purple dawn before the golden day, + And ends the gloom it crosses at one leap. + My brow was not unworthy your caress; + For some foreboding joy had bade me keep + From all affront the place your lips would bless. + + Yet when your mouth upon my mouth did lay + The royal touch, no rapture made me thrill, + But I remained confused, ashamed, and still. + Beneath your kiss, my queen without a stain, + I felt,--like ghosts who rise at Judgment Day,-- + A throng of ancient kisses vile and vain! + + +VIII + +RESIGNATION + + +1 + + Well, you will triumph, dear and noble friend! + The holy love that wounded you so deep + Will bring you balm, and on your heart asleep + The fragrant dew of healing will descend. + Your children,--ah, how quickly they will grow + Between us, like a wall that fronts the sun, + Lifting a screen with rosy buds o'errun, + To hide the shaded path where I must go. + + You'll walk in light; and dreaming less and less + Of him who droops in gloom beyond the wall, + Your mother-soul will fill with happiness + When first you hear your grandchild's babbling call, + Beneath the braided bloom of flower and leaf + That We has wrought to veil your vanished grief. + + +2 + + Then I alone shall suffer! I shall bear + The double burden of our grief alone, + While I enlarge my soul to take your share + Of pain and hold it close beside my own. + Our love is torn asunder; but the crown + Of thorns that love has woven I will make + My relic sacrosanct, and press it down + Upon my bleeding heart that will not break. + + Ah, that will be the depth of solitude! + For my regret, that evermore endures, + Will know that new-born hope has conquered yours; + And when the evening comes, no gentle brood + Of wondering children, gathered at my side, + Will soothe away the tears I cannot hide. + +_Freely rendered from the French_, 1911. + + + +RAPPEL D'AMOUR + + + Come home, my love, come home! + The twilight is falling, + The whippoorwill calling, + The night is very near, + And the darkness full of fear, + Come home to my arms, come home! + + Come home, my love, come home! + In folly we parted, + And now, lonely hearted, + I know you look in vain + For a love like mine again; + Come home to my arms, come home! + + Come home, dear love, come home! + I've much to forgive you, + And more yet to give you. + I'll put a little light + In the window every night,-- + Come home to my arms, come home. + + + +THE RIVER OF DREAMS + + + The river of dreams runs quietly down + From its hidden home in the forest of sleep, + With a measureless motion calm and deep; + And my boat slips out on the current brown, + In a tranquil bay where the trees incline + Far over the waves, and creepers twine + Far over the boughs, as if to steep + Their drowsy bloom in the tide that goes + By a secret way that no man knows, + Under the branches bending, + Under the shadows blending, + And the body rests, and the passive soul + Is drifted along to an unseen goal, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs gently down, + With a leisurely flow that bears my bark + Out of the visionless woods of dark, + Into a glory that seems to crown + Valley and hill with light from far, + Clearer than sun or moon or star, + Luminous, wonderful, weird, oh, mark + How the radiance pulses everywhere, + In the shadowless vault of lucid air! + Over the mountains shimmering, + Up from the fountains glimmering,-- + Tis the mystical glow of the inner light, + That shines in the very noon of night, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs murmuring down, + Through the fairest garden that ever grew; + And now, as my boat goes drifting through, + A hundred voices arise to drown + The river's whisper, and charm my ear + With a sound I have often longed to hear,-- + A magical music, strange and new, + The wild-rose ballad, the lilac-song, + The virginal chant of the lilies' throng, + Blue-bells silverly ringing, + Pansies merrily singing,-- + For all the flowers have found their voice; + And I feel no wonder, but only rejoice, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs broadening down, + Away from the peaceful garden-shore, + With a current that deepens more and more, + By the league-long walls of a mighty town; + And I see the hurrying crowds of men + Gather like clouds and dissolve again; + But never a face I have seen before. + They come and go, they shift and change, + Their ways and looks are wild and strange,-- + This is a city haunted, + A multitude enchanted! + At the sight of the throng I am dumb with fear, + And never a sound from their lips I hear, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs darkly down + Into the heart of a desolate land, + With ruined temples half-buried in sand, + And riven hills, whose black brows frown + Over the shuddering, lonely wave. + The air grows dim with the dust of the grave; + No sign of life on the dreary strand; + No ray of light on the mountain's crest; + And a weary wind that cannot rest + Comes down the valley creeping, + Lamenting, wailing, weeping,-- + I strive to cry out, but my fluttering breath + Is choked with the clinging fog of death, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs trembling down, + Out of the valley of nameless fear, + Into a country calm and clear, + With a mystical name of high renown,-- + A name that I know, but may not tell,-- + And there the friends that I loved so well, + Old companions forever dear, + Come beckoning down to the river shore, + And hail my boat with the voice of yore. + Fair and sweet are the places + Where I see their unchanged faces! + And I feel in my heart with a secret thrill, + That the loved and lost are living still, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs dimly down + By a secret way that no man knows; + But the soul lives on while the river flows + Through the gardens bright and the forests brown; + And I often think that our whole life seems + To be more than half made up of dreams. + The changing sights and the passing shows, + The morning hopes and the midnight fears, + Are left behind with the vanished years; + Onward, with ceaseless motion, + The life-stream flows to the ocean, + While we follow the tide, awake or asleep, + Till we see the dawn on Love's great deep, + And the shadows melt, and the soul is free,-- + The river of dreams has reached the sea. + +1900. + + + + +SONGS OF HEARTH AND ALTAR + + + +A HOME SONG + + + I read within a poet's book + A word that starred the page: + "Stone walls do not a prison make, + Nor iron bars a cage!" + + Yes, that is true, and something more: + You'll find, where'er you roam, + That marble floors and gilded walls + Can never make a home. + + But every house where Love abides, + And Friendship is a guest, + Is surely home, and home-sweet-home: + For there the heart can rest. + + + +"LITTLE BOATIE" + +A SLUMBER-SONG FOR THE FISHERMAN'S CHILD + + + Furl your sail, my little boatie; + Here's the haven still and deep, + Where the dreaming tides in-streaming + Up the channel creep. + Now the sunset breeze is dying; + Hear the plover, landward flying, + Softly down the twilight crying; + Come to anchor, little boatie, + In the port of Sleep. + + Far away, my little boatie, + Roaring waves are white with foam; + Ships are striving, onward driving, + Day and night they roam. + Father's at the deep-sea trawling, + In the darkness, rowing, hauling, + While the hungry winds are calling,-- + God protect him, little boatie, + Bring him safely home! + + Not for you, my little boatie, + Is the wide and weary sea; + You're too slender, and too tender, + You must bide with me. + All day long you have been straying + Up and down the shore and playing; + Come to harbour, no delaying! + Day is over, little boatie, + Night falls suddenly. + + Furl your sail, my little boatie, + Fold your wings, my weary dove. + Dews are sprinkling, stars are twinkling + Drowsily above. + Cease from sailing, cease from rowing; + Rock upon the dream-tide, knowing + Safely o'er your rest are glowing, + All the night, my little boatie, + Harbour-lights of love. + +1897. + + + +A MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY + + + Lord Jesus, Thou hast known + A mother's love and tender care: + And Thou wilt hear, + While for my own + Mother most dear + I make this birthday prayer. + + Protect her life, I pray, + Who gave the gift of life to me; + And may she know, + From day to day, + The deepening glow + Of joy that comes from Thee. + + As once upon her breast + Fearless and well content I lay, + So let her heart, + On Thee at rest, + Feel fear depart + And trouble fade away. + + Ah, hold her by the hand, + As once her hand held mine; + And though she may + Not understand + Life's winding way, + Lead her in peace divine. + + I cannot pay my debt + For all the love that she has given; + But Thou, love's Lord, + Wilt not forget + Her due reward,-- + Bless her in earth and heaven. + + + +TRANSFORMATION + + + Only a little shrivelled seed, + It might be flower, or grass, or weed; + Only a box of earth on the edge + Of a narrow, dusty window-ledge; + Only a few scant summer showers; + Only a few clear shining hours; + That was all. Yet God could make + Out of these, for a sick child's sake, + A blossom-wonder, fair and sweet + As ever broke at an angel's feet. + + Only a life of barren pain, + Wet with sorrowful tears for rain, + Warmed sometimes by a wandering gleam + Of joy, that seemed but a happy dream; + A life as common and brown and bare + As the box of earth in the window there; + Yet it bore, at last, the precious bloom + Of a perfect soul in that narrow room; + Pure as the snowy leaves that fold + Over the flower's heart of gold. + + + +RENDEZVOUS + + + I count that friendship little worth + Which has not many things untold, + Great longings that no words can hold, + And passion-secrets waiting birth. + + Along the slender wires of speech + Some message from the heart is sent; + But who can tell the whole that's meant? + Our dearest thoughts are out of reach. + + I have not seen thee, though mine eyes + Hold now the image of thy face; + In vain, through form, I strive to trace + The soul I love: that deeper lies. + + A thousand accidents control + Our meeting here. Clasp hand in hand, + And swear to meet me in that land + Where friends hold converse soul to soul. + + + +GRATITUDE + + + "Do you give thanks for this?--or that?" No, God be thanked + I am not grateful + In that cold, calculating way, with blessings ranked + As one, two, three, and four,--that would be hateful. + + I only know that every day brings good above + My poor deserving; + I only feel that in the road of Life true Love + Is leading me along and never swerving. + + Whatever gifts and mercies to my lot may fall, + I would not measure + As worth a certain price in praise, or great or small; + But take and use them all with simple pleasure. + + For when we gladly eat our daily bread, we bless + The Hand that feeds us; + And when we tread the road of Life in cheerfulness, + Our very heart-beats praise the Love that leads us. + + + +PEACE + + + With eager heart and will on fire, + I strove to win my great desire. + "Peace shall be mine," I said; but life + Grew bitter in the barren strife. + + My soul was weary, and my pride + Was wounded deep; to Heaven I cried, + "God grant me peace or I must die;" + The dumb stars glittered no reply. + + Broken at last, I bowed my head, + Forgetting all myself, and said, + "Whatever comes, His will be done;" + And in that moment peace was won. + + + +SANTA CHRISTINA + + + Saints are God's flowers, fragrant souls + That His own hand hath planted, + Not in some far-off heavenly place, + Or solitude enchanted, + But here and there and everywhere,-- + In lonely field, or crowded town, + God sees a flower when He looks down. + + Some wear the lily's stainless white, + And some the rose of passion, + And some the violet's heavenly blue, + But each in its own fashion, + With silent bloom and soft perfume, + Is praising Him who from above + Beholds each lifted face of love. + + One such I knew,--and had the grace + To thank my God for knowing: + The beauty of her quiet life + Was like a rose in blowing, + So fair and sweet, so all-complete + And all unconscious, as a flower, + That light and fragrance were her dower. + + No convent-garden held this rose, + Concealed like secret treasure; + No royal terrace guarded her + For some sole monarch's pleasure. + She made her shrine, this saint of mine, + In a bright home where children played; + And there she wrought and there she prayed. + + In sunshine, when the days were glad, + She had the art of keeping + The clearest rays, to give again + In days of rain and weeping; + Her blessed heart could still impart + Some portion of its secret grace, + And charity shone in her face. + + In joy she grew from year to year; + And sorrow made her sweeter; + And every comfort, still more kind; + And every loss, completer. + Her children came to love her name,-- + "Christina,"--'twas a lip's caress; + And when they called, they seemed to bless. + + No more they call, for she is gone + Too far away to hear them; + And yet they often breathe her name + As if she lingered near them; + They cannot reach her with love's speech, + But when they say "Christina" now + 'Tis like a prayer or like a vow: + + A vow to keep her life alive + In deeds of pure affection, + So that her love shall find in them + A daily resurrection; + A constant prayer that they may wear + Some touch of that supernal light + With which she blossoms in God's sight. + + + +THE BARGAIN + + + What shall I give for thee, + Thou Pearl of greatest price? + For all the treasures I possess + Would not suffice. + + I give my store of gold; + It is but earthly dross: + But thou wilt make me rich, beyond + All fear of loss. + + Mine honours I resign; + They are but small at best: + Thou like a royal star wilt shine + Upon my breast. + + My worldly joys I give, + The flowers with which I played; + Thy beauty, far more heavenly fair, + Shall never fade. + + Dear Lord, is that enough? + _Nay, not a thousandth part._ + Well, then, I have but one thing more: + Take Thou my heart. + + + +TO THE CHILD JESUS + + +I + +THE NATIVITY + + Could every time-worn heart but see Thee once again, + A happy human child, among the homes of men, + The age of doubt would pass,--the vision of Thy face + Would silently restore the childhood of the race. + + +II + +THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT + + Thou wayfaring Jesus, a pilgrim and stranger, + Exiled from heaven by love at thy birth, + Exiled again from thy rest in the manger, + A fugitive child 'mid the perils of earth,-- + Cheer with thy fellowship all who are weary, + Wandering far from the land that they love; + Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary, + Safe to its home in thy presence above. + + + +BITTER-SWEET + + + Just to give up, and trust + All to a Fate unknown, + Plodding along life's road in the dust, + Bounded by walls of stone; + Never to have a heart at peace; + Never to see when care will cease; + Just to be still when sorrows fall-- + This is the bitterest lesson of all. + + Just to give up, and rest + All on a Love secure, + Out of a world that's hard at the best, + Looking to heaven as sure; + Ever to hope, through cloud and fear, + In darkest night, that the dawn is near; + Just to wait at the Master's feet-- + Surely, now, the bitter is sweet. + + + +HYMN OF JOY + +TO THE MUSIC OF BEETHOVEN'S NINTH SYMPHONY + + + Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, + God of glory, Lord of love; + Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, + Praising Thee their sun above. + Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; + Drive the dark of doubt away; + Giver of immortal gladness, + Fill us with the light of day! + + All Thy works with joy surround Thee, + Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays, + Stars and angels sing around Thee, + Centre of unbroken praise: + Field and forest, vale and mountain, + Blooming meadow, flashing sea, + Chanting bird and flowing fountain, + Call us to rejoice in Thee. + + Thou art giving and forgiving, + Ever blessing, ever blest, + Well-spring of the joy of living, + Ocean-depth of happy rest! + Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,-- + All who live in love are Thine: + Teach us how to love each other, + Lift us to the Joy Divine. + + Mortals join the mighty chorus, + Which the morning stars began; + Father-love is reigning o'er us, + Brother-love binds man to man. + Ever singing march we onward, + Victors in the midst of strife; + Joyful music lifts us sunward + In the triumph song of life. + +1908. + + + +SONG OF A PILGRIM-SOUL + + + March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay! + March swiftly on. Yet err not from the way + Where all the nobly wise of old have trod,-- + The path of faith, made by the sons of God. + + Follow the marks that they have set beside + The narrow, cloud-swept track, to be thy guide: + Follow, and honour what the past has gained, + And forward still, that more may be attained. + + Something to learn, and something to forget: + Hold fast the good, and seek the better yet: + Press on, and prove the pilgrim-hope of youth: + The Creeds are milestones on the road to Truth. + + + +ODE TO PEACE + + +I + +IN EXCELSIS + + Two dwellings, Peace, are thine. + One is the mountain-height, + Uplifted in the loneliness of light + Beyond the realm of shadows,--fine, + And far, and clear,--where advent of the night + Means only glorious nearness of the stars, + And dawn unhindered breaks above the bars + That long the lower world in twilight keep. + Thou sleepest not, and hast no need of sleep, + For all thy cares and fears have dropped away; + The night's fatigue, the fever-fret of day, + Are far below thee; and earth's weary wars, + In vain expense of passion, pass + Before thy sight like visions in a glass,-- + Or like the wrinkles of the storm that creep + Across the sea and leave no trace + Of trouble on that immemorial face,-- + So brief appear the conflicts, and so slight + The wounds men give, the things for which they fight! + Here hangs a fortress on the distant steep,-- + A lichen clinging to the rock. + There sails a fleet upon the deep,-- + A wandering flock + Of snow-winged gulls. And yonder, in the plain, + A marble palace shines,--a grain + Of mica glittering in the rain. + Beneath thy feet the clouds are rolled + By voiceless winds: and far between + The rolling clouds, new shores and peaks are seen, + In shimmering robes of green and gold, + And faint aerial hue + That silent fades into the silent blue. + Thou, from thy mountain-hold, + All day in tranquil wisdom looking down + On distant scenes of human toil and strife, + All night, with eyes aware of loftier life + Uplifted to the sky where stars are sown, + Dost watch the everlasting fields grow white + Unto the harvest of the sons of light, + And welcome to thy dwelling-place sublime + The few strong souls that dare to climb + The slippery crags, and find thee on the height. + + +II + +DE PROFUNDIS + + But in the depth thou hast another home, + For hearts less daring, or more frail. + Thou dwellest also in the shadowy vale; + And pilgrim-souls that roam + With weary feet o'er hill and dale, + Bearing the burden and the heat + Of toilful days, + Turn from the dusty ways + To find thee in thy green and still retreat. + Here is no vision wide outspread + Before the lonely and exalted seat + Of all-embracing knowledge. Here, instead, + A little cottage, and a garden-nook, + With outlooks brief and sweet + Across the meadows, and along the brook,-- + A little stream that nothing knows + Of the great sea to which it gladly flows,-- + A little field that bears a little wheat + To make a portion of earth's daily bread. + The vast cloud-armies overhead + Are marshalled, and the wild wind blows + Its trumpet, but thou canst not tell + Whence comes the wind nor where it goes; + Nor dost thou greatly care, since all is well. + Thy daily task is done, + And now the wages of repose are won. + Here friendship lights the fire, and every heart, + Sure of itself and sure of all the rest, + Dares to be true, and gladly takes its part + In open converse, bringing forth its best: + And here is music, melting every chain + Of lassitude and pain: + And here, at last, is sleep with silent gifts,-- + Kind sleep, the tender nurse who lifts + The soul grown weary of the waking world, + And lays it, with its thoughts all furled, + Its fears forgotten, and its passions still, + On the deep bosom of the Eternal Will. + + + +THREE PRAYERS FOR SLEEP AND WAKING + + +I + +BEDTIME + + Ere thou sleepest gently lay + Every troubled thought away: + Put off worry and distress + As thou puttest off thy dress: + Drop thy burden and thy care + In the quiet arms of prayer. + + _Lord, Thou knowest how I live, + All I've done amiss forgive: + All of good I've tried to do, + Strengthen, bless, and carry through, + All I love in safety keep, + While in Thee I fall asleep._ + + +II + +NIGHT WATCH + + If slumber should forsake + Thy pillow in the dark, + Fret not thyself to mark + How long thou liest awake. + There is a better way; + Let go the strife and strain, + Thine eyes will close again, + If thou wilt only pray. + + _Lord, Thy peaceful gift restore, + Give my body sleep once more: + While I wait my soul will rest + Like a child upon Thy breast._ + + +III + +NEW DAY + + Ere thou risest from thy bed, + Speak to God Whose wings were spread + O'er thee in the helpless night: + Lo, He wakes thee now with light! + Lift thy burden and thy care + In the mighty arms of prayer. + + _Lord, the newness of this day + Calls me to an untried way: + Let me gladly take the road, + Give me strength to bear my load, + Thou my guide and helper be-- + I will travel through with Thee._ + +The Mission Inn, California, Easter, 1913. + + + +PORTRAIT AND REALITY + + + If on the closed curtain of my sight + My fancy paints thy portrait far away, + I see thee still the same, by night or day; + Crossing the crowded street, or moving bright + 'Mid festal throngs, or reading by the light + Of shaded lamp some friendly poet's lay, + Or shepherding the children at their play,-- + The same sweet self, and my unchanged delight. + + But when I see thee near, I recognize + In every dear familiar way some strange + Perfection, and behold in April guise + The magic of thy beauty that doth range + Through many moods with infinite surprise,-- + Never the same, and sweeter with each change. + + + +THE WIND OF SORROW + + + The fire of love was burning, yet so low + That in the peaceful dark it made no rays, + And in the light of perfect-placid days + The ashes hid the smouldering embers' glow. + Vainly, for love's delight, we sought to throw + New pleasures on the pyre to make it blaze: + In life's calm air and tranquil-prosperous ways + We missed the radiant heat of long ago. + + Then in the night, a night of sad alarms, + Bitter with pain and black with fog of fears + That drove us trembling to each other's arms, + Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears + Into life's calm the wind of sorrow came, + And fanned the fire of love to clearest name. + + + +HIDE AND SEEK + + +I + + All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, + All the fleecy flocks of cloud, gone beyond the hill; + Through the noon-day silence, down the woods of June, + Hark, a little hunter's voice, running with a tune. + "Hide and seek! + When I speak, + You must answer me: + Call again, + Merry men, + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!" + + Now I hear his footsteps rustling in the grass: + Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass? + Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns, + Leaps upon me laughing loud, rolls me in the ferns. + "Hold him fast, + Caught at last! + Now you're it, you see. + Hide your eye, + Till I cry, + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!" + + +II + + Long ago he left me, long and long ago; + Now I wander thro' the world, seeking high and low. + Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,-- + If I could but hear his voice, soon I'd see his face! + Far away, + Many a day, + Where can Barney be? + Answer, dear, + Don't you hear? + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee! + + Birds that every spring-time sung him full of joy, + Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy. + Somewhere he is waiting till my steps come nigh; + Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die. + Heart, be glad, + The little lad + Will call again to thee: + "Father dear, + Heaven is here, + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!" + +1898. + + + +AUTUMN IN THE GARDEN + + + When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark + Makes its mark + On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves + Over fallen leaves; + Then my olden garden, where the golden soil + Through the toil + Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep, + Whispers in its sleep. + + 'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox, + Where the box + Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks, + There's a voice that talks + Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here + Year by year,-- + And the dreams that brightened all the labouring hours. + Fading as the flowers. + + Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief; + But relief + For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow + From the Long-Ago, + When I think of other lives that learned, like mine, + To resign, + And remember that the sadness of the fall + Comes alike to all. + + What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs I + And what prayers + For the silent strength that nerves us to endure + Things we cannot cure! + Pacing up and down the garden where they paced, + I have traced + All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find + Comfort in my mind. + + Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear: + Yet how near + Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face, + Of the human race! + Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,-- + Not apart! + They who know the sorrows other lives have known + Never walk alone. + +October, 1903. + + + +THE MESSAGE + + + Waking from tender sleep, + My neighbour's little child + Put out his baby hand to me, + Looked in my face, and smiled. + + It seems as if he came + Home from a happy land, + To bring a message to my heart + And make me understand. + + Somewhere, among bright dreams, + A child that once was mine + Has whispered wordless love to him, + And given him a sign. + + Comfort of kindly speech, + And counsel of the wise, + Have helped me less than what I read + In those deep-smiling eyes. + + Sleep sweetly, little friend, + And dream again of heaven: + With double love I kiss your hand,-- + Your message has been given. + +November, 1903. + + + +DULCIS MEMORIA + + + Long, long ago I heard a little song, + (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) + So lowly, slowly wound the tune along, + That far into my heart it found the way: + A melody consoling and endearing; + And now, in silent hours, I'm often hearing + The small, sweet song that does not die away. + + Long, long ago I saw a little flower-- + (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) + So fair of face and fragrant for an hour, + That something dear to me it seemed to say,-- + A wordless joy that blossomed into being; + And now, in winter days, I'm often seeing + The friendly flower that does not fade away. + + Long, long ago we had a little child,-- + (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) + Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled + Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay. + An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him; + Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him-- + Our little child who does not go away. + + Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear-- + (It was not long ago, but yesterday.) + So little and so helpless and so dear-- + Let not the song be lost, the flower decay! + His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping: + The smallest things are safest in thy keeping,-- + Sweet memory, keep our child with us alway. + +November, 1903. + + + +THE WINDOW + + + All night long, by a distant bell + The passing hours were notched + On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell; + And the spark of life I watched + In her face was glowing, or fading,--who could tell?-- + And the open window of the room, + With a flare of yellow light, + Was peering out into the gloom, + Like an eye that searched the night. + + _Oh, what do you see in the dark, little window, and why do you peer? + "I see that the garden is crowded with creeping forms of fear: + Little white ghosts in the locust-tree, wave in the night-wind's breath, + And low in the leafy laurels the lurking shadow of death."_ + + Sweet, clear notes of a waking bird + Told of the passing away + Of the dark,--and my darling may have heard; + For she smiled in her sleep, while the ray + Of the rising dawn spoke joy without a word, + Till the splendour born in the east outburned + The yellow lamplight, pale and thin, + And the open window slowly turned + To the eye of the morning, looking in. + + _Oh, what do you see in the room, little window, that makes you so + bright? + "I see that a child is asleep on her pillow, soft and white: + With the rose of life on her lips, the pulse of life in her breast, + And the arms of God around her, she quietly takes her rest."_ + +Neuilly, June, 1909. + + + +CHRISTMAS TEARS + + + The day returns by which we date our years: + Day of the joy of giving,--that means love; + Day of the joy of living,--that means hope; + Day of the Royal Child,--and day that brings + To older hearts the gift of Christmas tears! + + Look, how the candles twinkle through the tree, + The children shout when baby claps his hands, + The room is full of laughter and of song! + Your lips are smiling, dearest,--tell me why + Your eyes are brimming full of Christmas tears? + + Was it a silent voice that joined the song? + A vanished face that glimmered once again + Among the happy circle round the tree? + Was it an unseen hand that touched your cheek + And brought the secret gift of Christmas tears? + + Not dark and angry like the winter storm + Of selfish grief,--but full of starry gleams, + And soft and still that others may not weep,-- + Dews of remembered happiness descend + To bless us with the gift of Christmas tears. + + Ah, lose them not, dear heart,--life has no pearls + More pure than memories of joy love-shared. + See, while we count them one by one with prayer, + The Heavenly hope that lights the Christmas tree + Has made a rainbow in our Christmas tears! + +1912. + + + +DOROTHEA + +1888-1912 + + + A deeper crimson in the rose, + A deeper blue in sky and sea, + And ever, as the summer goes, + A deeper loss in losing thee! + + A deeper music in the strain + Of hermit-thrush from lonely tree; + And deeper grows the sense of gain + My life has found in having thee. + + A deeper love, a deeper rest, + A deeper joy in all I see; + And ever deeper in my breast + A silver song that comes from thee! + +Seal Harbour, August 1, 1912. + + + + +EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND INSCRIPTIONS + + + +FOR KATRINA'S SUN-DIAL + +IN HER GARDEN OF YADDO + + + Hours fly, + Flowers die + New days, + New ways, + Pass by. + Love stays. + + * * * + + Time is + Too Slow for those who Wait, + Too Swift for those who Fear, + Too Long for those who Grieve, + Too Short for those who Rejoice; + But for those who Love, + Time is not. + + + +FOR KATRINA'S WINDOW + +IN HER TOWER OF YADDO + + + This is the window's message, + In silence, to the Queen: + "Thou hast a double kingdom + And I am set between: + Look out and see the glory, + On hill and plain and sky: + Look in and see the light of love + That nevermore shall die!" + + +_L'ENVOI_ + + _Window in the Queen's high tower, + This shall be thy magic power! + Shut the darkness and the doubt, + Shut the storm and conflict, out; + Wind and hail and snow and rain + Dash against thee all in vain. + Let in nothing from the night,-- + Let in every ray of light!_ + + + +FOR THE FRIENDS AT HURSTMONT + + +THE HOUSE + + The cornerstone in Truth is laid, + The guardian walls of Honour made, + The roof of Faith is built above, + The fire upon the hearth is Love: + Though rains descend and loud winds call, + This happy house shall never fall. + + +THE HEARTH + + When the logs are burning free, + Then the fire is full of glee: + When each heart gives out its best, + Then the talk is full of zest: + Light your fire and never fear, + Life was made for love and cheer. + + +THE DOOR + + The lintel low enough to keep out pomp and pride: + The threshold high enough to turn deceit aside: + The fastening strong enough from robbers to defend: + This door will open at a touch to welcome every friend. + + +THE DIAL + + Time can never take + What Time did not give; + When my shadows have all passed, + You shall live. + + + +THE SUN-DIAL AT MORVEN + +FOR BAYARD AND HELEN STOCKTON + + + Two hundred years of blessing I record + For Morven's house, protected by the Lord: + And still I stand among old-fashioned flowers + To mark for Morven many sunlit hours. + + + +THE SUN-DIAL AT WELLS COLLEGE + +FOR THE CLASS OF 1904 + + + The shadow by my finger cast + Divides the future from the past: + Before it, sleeps the unborn hour, + In darkness, and beyond thy power: + Behind its unreturning line, + The vanished hour, no longer thine: + One hour alone is in thy hands,-- + The NOW on which the shadow stands. + +March, 1904. + + + +TO MARK TWAIN + + +I + +AT A BIRTHDAY FEAST + + With memories old and wishes new + We crown our cups again, + And here's to you, and here's to you + With love that ne'er shall wane! + And may you keep, at sixty-seven, + The joy of earth, the hope of heaven, + And fame well-earned, and friendship true, + And peace that comforts every pain, + And faith that fights the battle through, + And all your heart's unbounded wealth, + And all your wit, and all your health,-- + Yes, here's a hearty health to you, + And here's to you, and here's to you, + Long life to you, Mark Twain. + +November 30, 1902. + + +II + +AT THE MEMORIAL MEETING + + We knew you well, dear Yorick of the West, + The very soul of large and friendly jest! + You loved and mocked the broad grotesque of things + In this new world where all the folk are kings. + + Your breezy humour cleared the air, with sport + Of shams that haunt the democratic court; + For even where the sovereign people rule, + A human monarch needs a royal fool. + + Your native drawl lent flavour to your wit; + Your arrows lingered but they always hit; + Homeric mirth around the circle ran, + But left no wound upon the heart of man. + + We knew you kind in trouble, brave in pain; + We saw your honour kept without a stain; + We read this lesson of our Yorick's years,-- + True wisdom comes with laughter and with tears. + +November 30, 1910. + + + +STARS AND THE SOUL + +(TO CHARLES A. YOUNG, ASTRONOMER) + + + "Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe: + The starry heavens and the moral law." + Nay, add another wonder to thy roll,-- + The living marvel of the human soul! + + Born in the dust and cradled in the dark, + It feels the fire of an immortal spark, + And learns to read, with patient, searching eyes, + The splendid secret of the unconscious skies. + + For God thought Light before He spoke the word; + The darkness understood not, though it heard: + But man looks up to where the planets swim, + And thinks God's thoughts of glory after Him. + + What knows the star that guides the sailor's way, + Or lights the lover's bower with liquid ray, + Of toil and passion, danger and distress, + Brave hope, true love, and utter faithfulness? + + But human hearts that suffer good and ill, + And hold to virtue with a loyal will, + Adorn the law that rules our mortal strife + With star-surpassing victories of life. + + So take our thanks, dear reader of the skies, + Devout astronomer, most humbly wise, + For lessons brighter than the stars can give, + And inward light that helps us all to live. + + + +TO JULIA MARLOWE + +(READING KEATS' ODE ON A GRECIAN URN) + + + Long had I loved this "Attic shape," the brede + Of marble maidens round this urn divine: + But when your golden voice began to read, + The empty urn was filled with Chian wine. + + + +TO JOSEPH JEFFERSON + + +_May 4th_, 1898.--_To-day, fishing down the Swiftwater, I +found Joseph Jefferson on a big rock in the middle of the brook, +casting the fly for trout. He said he had fished this very stream +three-and-forty years ago; and near by, in the Paradise Valley, +he wrote his famous play._--Leaf from my Diary. + + We met on Nature's stage, + And May had set the scene, + With bishop-caps standing in delicate ranks, + And violets blossoming over the banks, + While the brook ran full between. + + The waters rang your call, + With frolicsome waves a-twinkle,-- + They knew you as boy, and they knew you as man, + And every wave, as it merrily ran, + Cried, "Enter Rip van Winkle!" + + + +THE MOCKING-BIRD + + + In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, + Catching the lilt of every easy tune; + But when the day departs he sings of love,-- + His own wild song beneath the listening moon. + + + +THE EMPTY QUATRAIN + + + A flawless cup: how delicate and fine + The flowing curve of every jewelled line! + Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still,-- + But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine. + + + +PAN LEARNS MUSIC + +FOR A SCULPTURE BY SARA GREENE + + + Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock, + Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock? + What are you making here? "Listen," said Pan,-- + "Out of a river-reed music for man!" + + + +THE SHEPHERD OF NYMPHS + + + The nymphs a shepherd took + To guard their snowy sheep; + He led them down along the brook, + And guided them with pipe and crook, + Until he fell asleep. + + But when the piping stayed, + Across the flowery mead + The milk-white nymphs ran out afraid: + O Thyrsis, wake! Your flock has strayed,-- + The nymphs a shepherd need. + + + +ECHOES FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY + + +I + +STARLIGHT + + With two bright eyes, my star, my love, + Thou lookest on the stars above: + Ah, would that I the heaven might be + With a million eyes to look on thee. + +_Plato._ + + +II + +ROSELEAF + + A little while the rose, + And after that the thorn; + An hour of dewy morn, + And then the glamour goes. + Ah, love in beauty born, + A little while the rose! + +_Unknown._ + + +III + +PHOSPHOR--HESPER + + O morning star, farewell! + My love I now must leave; + The hours of day I slowly tell, + And turn to her with the twilight bell,-- + O welcome, star of eve! + +_Meleager._ + + +IV + +SEASONS + + Sweet in summer, cups of snow, + Cooling thirsty lips aglow; + Sweet to sailors winter-bound, + Spring arrives with garlands crowned; + Sweeter yet the hour that covers + With one cloak a pair of lovers, + Living lost in golden weather, + While they talk of love together. + +_Asclepiades._ + + +V + +THE VINE AND THE GOAT + + Although you eat me to the root, + I yet shall bear enough of fruit + For wine to sprinkle your dim eyes, + When you are made a sacrifice. + +_Euenus._ + + +VI + +THE PROFESSOR + + Seven pupils, in the class + Of Professor Callias, + Listen silent while he drawls,-- + Three are benches, four are walls. + +_Unknown._ + + + +ONE WORLD + + _"The worlds in which we live are two: + The world 'I am' and the world 'I do,'"_ + + + The worlds in which we live at heart are one, + The world "I am," the fruit of "I have done"; + And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit, + The world "I love,"--the only living root. + + + +JOY AND DUTY + + + "Joy is a Duty,"--so with golden lore + The Hebrew rabbis taught in days of yore, + And happy human hearts heard in their speech + Almost the highest wisdom man can reach. + + But one bright peak still rises far above, + And there the Master stands whose name is Love, + Saying to those whom weary tasks employ: + "Life is divine when Duty is a Joy." + + + +THE PRISON AND THE ANGEL + + + Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul; + Love is the only angel who can bid the gates unroll; + And when he comes to call thee, arise and follow fast; + His way may lie through darkness, but it leads to light at last. + + + +THE WAY + + + Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, + May keep the path, but will not reach the goal; + While he who walks in love may wander far, + But God will bring him where the Blessed are. + + + +LOVE AND LIGHT + + + There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light, + And every kind of love makes a glory in the night. + There is love that stirs the heart, and love that gives it rest, + But the love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best. + + + +_FACTA NON VERBA_ + + + _Deeds not Words_: I say so too! + And yet I find it somehow true, + A word may help a man in need, + To nobler act and braver deed. + + + +FOUR THINGS + + + Four things a man must learn to do + If he would make his record true: + To think without confusion clearly; + To love his fellow-men sincerely; + To act from honest motives purely; + To trust in God and Heaven securely. + + + +THE GREAT RIVER + + _"In la sua volontade è nostra pace."_ + + + O mighty river! strong, eternal Will, + Wherein the streams of human good and ill + Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea! + The world is safe because it floats in Thee. + + + +INSCRIPTION FOR A TOMB IN ENGLAND + + + Read here, O friend unknown, + Our grief, of her bereft; + Yet think not tears alone + Within our hearts are left. + The gifts she came to give, + Her heavenly love and cheer, + Have made us glad to live + And die without a fear. + +1912. + + + +THE TALISMAN + + + What is Fortune, what is Fame? + Futile gold and phantom name,-- + Riches buried in a cave, + Glory written on a grave. + + What is Friendship? Something deep + That the heart can spend and keep: + Wealth that greatens while we give, + Praise that heartens us to live. + + Come, my friend, and let us prove + Life's true talisman is love! + By this charm we shall elude + Poverty and solitude. + +January 21, 1914. + + + +THORN AND ROSE + + + Far richer than a thornless rose + Whose branch with beauty never glows, + Is that which every June adorns + With perfect bloom among its thorns. + + Merely to live without a pain + Is little gladness, little gain, + Ah, welcome joy tho' mixt with grief,-- + The thorn-set flower that crowns the leaf. + +June 20, 1914. + + + +"THE SIGNS" + +_Dedicated to the Zodiac Club_ + + + Who knows how many thousand years ago + The twelvefold Zodiac was made to show + The course of stars above and men below? + + The great sun plows his furrow by its "lines": + From all its "houses" mystic meaning shines: + Deep lore of life is written in its "signs." + + _Aries_--Sacrifice. + Snow-white and sacred is the sacrifice + That Heaven demands for what our heart doth prize: + The man who fears to suffer, ne'er can rise. + + _Taurus_--Strength. + Rejoice, my friend, if God has made you strong: + Put forth your force to move the world along: + Yet never shame your strength to do a wrong. + + _Gemini_--Brotherhood. + Bitter his life who lives for self alone, + Poor would he be with riches and a throne: + But friendship doubles all we are and own. + + _Cancer_--The Wisdom of Retreat. + Learn from the crab, O runner fresh and fleet, + Sideways to move, or backward, when discreet; + Life is not all advance,--sometimes retreat! + + _Leo_--Fire. + The sign of Leo is the sign of fire. + Hatred we hate: but no man should desire + A heart too cold to flame with righteous ire. + + _Virgo_--Love. + Mysterious symbol, words are all in vain + To tell the secret power by which you reign. + The more we love, the less we can explain. + + _Libra_--Justice. + Examine well the scales with which you weigh; + Let justice rule your conduct every day; + For when you face the Judge you'll need fair play. + + _Scorpio_--Self-Defense. + There's not a creature in the realm of night + But has the wish to live, likewise the right: + Don't tread upon the scorpion, or he'll fight. + + _Sagittarius_--The Archer. + Life is an arrow, therefore you must know + What mark to aim at, how to use the bow,-- + Then draw it to the head and let it go! + + _Capricornus_--The Goat. + The goat looks solemn, yet he likes to run, + And leap the rocks, and gambol in the sun: + The truly wise enjoy a little fun. + + _Aquarius_--Water. + "Like water spilt upon the ground,"--alas, + Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass; + Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass! + + _Pisces_--The Fishes. + Last of the sacred signs, you bring to me + A word of hope, a word of mystery,-- + _We all are swimmers in God's mighty sea._ + +February 28, 1918. + + + + +PRO PATRIA + + + +PATRIA + + + I would not even ask my heart to say + If I could love another land as well + As thee, my country, had I felt the spell + Of Italy at birth, or learned to obey + The charm of France, or England's mighty sway. + I would not be so much an infidel + As once to dream, or fashion words to tell, + What land could hold my heart from thee away. + + For like a law of nature in my blood, + America, I feel thy sovereignty, + And woven through my soul thy vital sign. + My life is but a wave and thou the flood; + I am a leaf and thou the mother-tree; + Nor should I be at all, were I not thine. + +June, 1904. + + + +AMERICA + + + I love thine inland seas, + Thy groves of giant trees, + Thy rolling plains; + Thy rivers' mighty sweep, + Thy mystic canyons deep, + Thy mountains wild and steep, + All thy domains; + + Thy silver Eastern strands, + Thy Golden Gate that stands + Wide to the West; + Thy flowery Southland fair, + Thy sweet and crystal air,-- + O land beyond compare, + Thee I love best! + +March, 1906. + + + +THE ANCESTRAL DWELLINGS + + + Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America, + Dearer than if they were haunted by ghosts of royal splendour; + They are simple enough to be great in their friendly dignity,-- + Homes that were built by the brave beginners of a nation. + + I love the old white farmhouses nestled in New England valleys, + Ample and long and low, with elm-trees feathering over them: + Borders of box in the yard, and lilacs, and old-fashioned roses, + A fan-light above the door, and little square panes in the windows, + The wood-shed piled with maple and birch and hickory ready for winter, + The gambrel-roof with its garret crowded with household relics,-- + All the tokens of prudent thrift and the spirit of self-reliance. + + I love the weather-beaten, shingled houses that front the ocean; + They seem to grow out of the rocks, there is something indomitable + about them: + Their backs are bowed, and their sides are covered with lichens; + Soft in their colour as gray pearls, they are full of a patient courage. + Facing the briny wind on a lonely shore they stand undaunted, + While the thin blue pennant of smoke from the square-built chimney + Tells of a haven for man, with room for a hearth and a cradle. + + I love the stately southern mansions with their tall white columns, + They look through avenues of trees, over fields where the cotton is + growing; + I can see the flutter of white frocks along their shady porches, + Music and laughter float from the windows, the yards are full of + hounds and horses. + Long since the riders have ridden away, yet the houses have not + forgotten, + They are proud of their name and place, and their doors are always open, + For the thing they remember best is the pride of their ancient + hospitality. + + In the towns I love the discreet and tranquil Quaker dwellings, + With their demure brick faces and immaculate marble doorsteps; + And the gabled houses of the Dutch, with their high stoops and iron + railings, + (I can see their little brass knobs shining in the morning sunlight); + And the solid self-contained houses of the descendants of the Puritans, + Frowning on the street with their narrow doors and dormer-windows; + And the triple-galleried, many-pillared mansions of Charleston, + Standing open sideways in their gardens of roses and magnolias. + + Yes, they are all dear to my heart, and in my eyes they are beautiful; + For under their roofs were nourished the thoughts that have made the + nation; + The glory and strength of America come from her ancestral dwellings. + +July, 1909. + + + +HUDSON'S LAST VOYAGE + +THE SHALLOP ON HUDSON BAY + +June 22, 1611 + + + One sail in sight upon the lonely sea, + And only one! For never ship but mine + Has dared these waters. We were first, + My men, to battle in between the bergs + And floes to these wide waves. This gulf is mine; + I name it! and that flying sail is mine! + And there, hull-down below that flying sail, + The ship that staggers home is mine, mine, mine! + My ship _Discoverie_! + The sullen dogs + Of mutineers, the bitches' whelps that snatched + Their food and bit the hand that nourished them, + Have stolen her. You ingrate Henry Greene, + I picked you from the gutter of Houndsditch, + And paid your debts, and kept you in my house, + And brought you here to make a man of you! + You Robert Juet, ancient, crafty man, + Toothless and tremulous, how many times + Have I employed you as a master's mate + To give you bread? And you Abacuck Prickett, + You sailor-clerk, you salted puritan, + You knew the plot and silently agreed, + Salving your conscience with a pious lie! + Yes, all of you--hounds, rebels, thieves! Bring back + My ship! + Too late,--I rave,--they cannot hear + My voice: and if they heard, a drunken laugh + Would be their answer; for their minds have caught + The fatal firmness of the fool's resolve, + That looks like courage but is only fear. + They'll blunder on, and lose my ship, and drown; + Or blunder home to England and be hanged. + Their skeletons will rattle in the chains + Of some tall gibbet on the Channel cliffs, + While passing mariners look up and say: + "Those are the rotten bones of Hudson's men + Who left their captain in the frozen North!" + + O God of justice, why hast Thou ordained + Plans of the wise and actions of the brave + Dependent on the aid of fools and cowards? + + Look,--there she goes,--her topsails in the sun + Gleam from the ragged ocean edge, and drop + Clean out of sight! So let the traitors go + Clean out of mind! We'll think of braver things! + Come closer in the boat, my friends. John King, + You take the tiller, keep her head nor'west. + You Philip Staffe, the only one who chose + Freely to share our little shallop's fate, + Rather than travel in the hell-bound ship,-- + Too good an English sailor to desert + Your crippled comrades,--try to make them rest + More easy on the thwarts. And John, my son, + My little shipmate, come and lean your head + Against my knee. Do you remember still + The April morn in Ethelburga's church, + Five years ago, when side by side we kneeled + To take the sacrament with all our men, + Before the _Hopewell_ left St. Catherine's docks + On our first voyage? It was then I vowed + My sailor-soul and yours to search the sea + Until we found the water-path that leads + From Europe into Asia. + I believe + That God has poured the ocean round His world, + Not to divide, but to unite the lands. + And all the English captains that have dared + In little ships to plough uncharted waves,-- + Davis and Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher, + Raleigh and Gilbert,--all the other names,-- + Are written in the chivalry of God + As men who served His purpose. I would claim + A place among that knighthood of the sea; + And I have earned it, though my quest should fail! + For, mark me well, the honour of our life + Derives from this: to have a certain aim + Before us always, which our will must seek + Amid the peril of uncertain ways. + Then, though we miss the goal, our search is crowned + With courage, and we find along our path + A rich reward of unexpected things. + Press towards the aim: take fortune as it fares! + + I know not why, but something in my heart + Has always whispered, "Westward seek your goal!" + Three times they sent me east, but still I turned + The bowsprit west, and felt among the floes + Of ruttling ice along the Greenland coast, + And down the rugged shore of Newfoundland, + And past the rocky capes and wooded bays + Where Gosnold sailed,--like one who feels his way + With outstretched hand across a darkened room,-- + I groped among the inlets and the isles, + To find the passage to the Land of Spice. + I have not found it yet,--but I have found + Things worth the finding! + Son, have you forgot + Those mellow autumn days, two years ago, + When first we sent our little ship _Half-Moon_,-- + The flag of Holland floating at her peak,-- + Across a sandy bar, and sounded in + Among the channels, to a goodly bay + Where all the navies of the world could ride? + A fertile island that the redmen called + Manhattan, lay above the bay: the land + Around was bountiful and friendly fair. + But never land was fair enough to hold + The seaman from the calling of the sea. + And so we bore to westward of the isle, + Along a mighty inlet, where the tide + Was troubled by a downward-flowing flood + That seemed to come from far away,--perhaps + From some mysterious gulf of Tartary? + Inland we held our course; by palisades + Of naked rock; by rolling hills adorned + With forests rich in timber for great ships; + Through narrows where the mountains shut us in + With frowning cliffs that seemed to bar the stream; + And then through open reaches where the banks + Sloped to the water gently, with their fields + Of corn and lentils smiling in the sun. + Ten days we voyaged through that placid land, + Until we came to shoals, and sent a boat + Upstream to find,--what I already knew,-- + We travelled on a river, not a strait. + + But what a river! God has never poured + A stream more royal through a land more rich. + Even now I see it flowing in my dream, + While coming ages people it with men + Of manhood equal to the river's pride. + I see the wigwams of the redmen changed + To ample houses, and the tiny plots + Of maize and green tobacco broadened out + To prosperous farms, that spread o'er hill and dale + The many-coloured mantle of their crops. + I see the terraced vineyard on the slope + Where now the fox-grape loops its tangled vine, + And cattle feeding where the red deer roam, + And wild-bees gathered into busy hives + To store the silver comb with golden sweet; + And all the promised land begins to flow + With milk and honey. Stately manors rise + Along the banks, and castles top the hills, + And little villages grow populous with trade, + Until the river runs as proudly as the Rhine,-- + The thread that links a hundred towns and towers! + Now looking deeper in my dream, I see + A mighty city covering the isle + They call Manhattan, equal in her state + To all the older capitals of earth,-- + The gateway city of a golden world,-- + A city girt with masts, and crowned with spires, + And swarming with a million busy men, + While to her open door across the bay + The ships of all the nations flock like doves. + My name will be remembered there, the world + Will say, "This river and this isle were found + By Henry Hudson, on his way to seek + The Northwest Passage." + Yes, I seek it still,-- + My great adventure and my guiding star! + For look ye, friends, our voyage is not done; + We hold by hope as long as life endures! + Somewhere among these floating fields of ice, + Somewhere along this westward widening bay, + Somewhere beneath this luminous northern night, + The channel opens to the Farthest East,-- + I know it,--and some day a little ship + Will push her bowsprit in, and battle through! + And why not ours,--to-morrow,--who can tell? + The lucky chance awaits the fearless heart! + These are the longest days of all the year; + The world is round and God is everywhere, + And while our shallop floats we still can steer. + + So point her up, John King, nor'west by north + We'll keep the honour of a certain aim + Amid the peril of uncertain ways, + And sail ahead, and leave the rest to God. + +July, 1909. + + + +SEA-GULLS OF MANHATTAN + + + Children of the elemental mother, + Born upon some lonely island shore + Where the wrinkled ripples run and whisper, + Where the crested billows plunge and roar; + Long-winged, tireless roamers and adventurers, + Fearless breasters of the wind and sea, + In the far-off solitary places + I have seen you floating wild and free! + + Here the high-built cities rise around you; + Here the cliffs that tower east and west, + Honeycombed with human habitations, + Have no hiding for the sea-bird's nest: + Here the river flows begrimed and troubled; + Here the hurrying, panting vessels fume, + Restless, up and down the watery highway, + While a thousand chimneys vomit gloom. + + Toil and tumult, conflict and confusion, + Clank and clamour of the vast machine + Human hands have built for human bondage-- + Yet amid it all you float serene; + Circling, soaring, sailing, swooping lightly + Down to glean your harvest from the wave; + In your heritage of air and water, + You have kept the freedom Nature gave. + + Even so the wild-woods of Manhattan + Saw your wheeling flocks of white and gray; + Even so you fluttered, followed, floated, + Round the _Half-Moon_ creeping up the bay; + Even so your voices creaked and chattered. + Laughing shrilly o'er the tidal rips, + While your black and beady eyes were glistening + Round the sullen British prison-ships. + + Children of the elemental mother, + Fearless floaters 'mid the double blue, + From the crowded boats that cross the ferries + Many a longing heart goes out to you. + Though the cities climb and close around us, + Something tells us that our souls are free, + While the sea-gulls fly above the harbour, + While the river flows to meet the sea! + +December, 1905. + + + +A BALLAD OF CLAREMONT HILL + + + The roar of the city is low, + Muffled by new-fallen snow, + And the sign of the wintry moon is small and round and still. + Will you come with me to-night, + To see a pleasant sight + Away on the river-side, at the edge of Claremont Hill? + + "And what shall we see there, + But streets that are new and bare, + And many a desolate place that the city is coming to fill; + And a soldier's tomb of stone, + And a few trees standing alone-- + Will you walk for that through the cold, to the edge of Claremont Hill?" + + But there's more than that for me, + In the place that I fain would see: + There's a glimpse of the grace that helps us all to bear life's ill, + A touch of the vital breath + That keeps the world from death, + A flower that never fades, on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + For just where the road swings round, + In a narrow strip of ground, + Where a group of forest trees are lingering fondly still, + There's a grave of the olden time, + When the garden bloomed in its prime, + And the children laughed and sang on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + The marble is pure and white, + And even in this dim light, + You may read the simple words that are written there if you will; + You may hear a father tell + Of the child he loved so well, + A hundred years ago, on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + The tide of the city has rolled + Across that bower of old, + And blotted out the beds of the rose and the daffodil; + But the little playmate sleeps, + And the shrine of love still keeps + A record of happy days, on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + The river is pouring down + To the crowded, careless town, + Where the intricate wheels of trade are grinding on like a mill; + But the clamorous noise and strife + Of the hurrying waves of life + Flow soft by this haven of peace on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + And after all, my friend, + When the tale of our years shall end, + Be it long or short, or lowly or great, as God may will, + What better praise could we hear, + Than this of the child so dear: + You have made my life more sweet, on the edge of Claremont Hill? + +December, 1896. + + + +URBS CORONATA + +(Song for the City College of New York) + + + O youngest of the giant brood + Of cities far-renowned; + In wealth and glory thou hast passed + Thy rivals at a bound; + Thou art a mighty queen, New York; + And how wilt thou be crowned? + + "Weave me no palace-wreath of Pride," + The royal city said; + "Nor forge of frowning fortress-walls + A helmet for my head; + But let me wear a diadem + Of Wisdom's towers instead." + + She bowed herself, she spent herself, + She wrought her will forsooth, + And set upon her island height + A citadel of Truth, + A house of Light, a home of Thought, + A shrine of noble Youth. + + Stand here, ye City College towers, + And look both up and down; + Remember all who wrought for you + Within the toiling town; + Remember all their hopes for you, + And _be_ the City's Crown. + +June, 1908. + + + +MERCY FOR ARMENIA + + +I + +THE TURK'S WAY + + Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand + Far off, for I will save my troubled folk + In my own way. So the false Sultan spoke; + And Europe, hearkening to his base command, + Stood still to see him heal his wounded land. + Through blinding snows of winter and through smoke + Of burning towns, she saw him deal the stroke + Of cruel mercy that his hate had planned. + Unto the prisoners and the sick he gave + New tortures, horrible, without a name; + Unto the thirsty, blood to drink; a sword + Unto the hungry; with a robe of shame + He clad the naked, making life abhorred; + He saved by slaughter, and denied a grave. + + +II + +AMERICA'S WAY + + But thou, my country, though no fault be thine + For that red horror far across the sea; + Though not a tortured wretch can point to thee, + And curse thee for the selfishness supine + Of those great Powers that cowardly combine + To shield the Turk in his iniquity; + Yet, since thy hand is innocent and free, + Arise, and show the world the way divine! + Thou canst not break the oppressor's iron rod, + But thou canst help and comfort the oppressed; + Thou canst not loose the captive's heavy chain, + But thou canst bind his wounds and soothe his pain. + Armenia calls thee, Sovereign of the West, + To play the Good Samaritan for God. + +1896. + + + +SICILY, DECEMBER, 1908 + + + O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea, + Whose bluest billows kiss thy curving bays, + Whose light infolds thy hills with golden rays, + Filling with fruit each dark-leaved orange-tree, + What hidden hatred hath the Earth for thee, + That once again, in these dark, dreadful days, + Breaks forth in trembling rage, and swiftly lays + Thy beauty waste in wreck and agony! + Is Nature, then, a strife of jealous powers, + And man the plaything of unconscious fate? + Not so, my troubled heart! God reigns above, + And man is greatest in his darkest hours. + Walking amid the cities desolate, + Behold the Son of God in human love! + +Tertius and Henry van Dyke. + + + +"COME BACK AGAIN, JEANNE D'ARC" + + + The land was broken in despair, + The princes quarrelled in the dark, + When clear and tranquil, through the troubled air + Of selfish minds and wills that did not dare, + Your star arose, Jeanne d'Arc. + + O virgin breast with lilies white, + O sun-burned hand that bore the lance, + You taught the prayer that helps men to unite, + You brought the courage equal to the fight, + You gave a heart to France! + + Your king was crowned, your country free, + At Rheims you had your soul's desire: + And then, at Rouen, maid of Domrémy, + The black-robed judges gave your victory + The martyr's crown of fire. + + And now again the times are ill, + And doubtful leaders miss the mark; + The people lack the single faith and will + To make them one,--your country needs you still,-- + Come back again, Jeanne d'Arc! + + O woman-star, arise once more + And shine to bid your land advance: + The old heroic trust in God restore, + Renew the brave, unselfish hopes of yore, + And give a heart to France! + +Paris, July, 1909. + + + +NATIONAL MONUMENTS + + + Count not the cost of honour to the dead! + The tribute that a mighty nation pays + To those who loved her well in former days + Means more than gratitude for glories fled; + For every noble man that she hath bred, + Lives in the bronze and marble that we raise, + Immortalised by art's immortal praise, + To lead our sons as he our fathers led. + + These monuments of manhood strong and high + Do more than forts or battle-ships to keep + Our dear-bought liberty. They fortify + The heart of youth with valour wise and deep; + They build eternal bulwarks, and command + Immortal hosts to guard our native land. + +February, 1905. + + + +THE MONUMENT OF FRANCIS MAKEMIE + +(Presbyter of Christ in America, 1683-1708) + + + To thee, plain hero of a rugged race, + We bring the meed of praise too long delayed! + Thy fearless word and faithful work have made + For God's Republic firmer resting-place + In this New World: for thou hast preached the grace + And power of Christ in many a forest glade, + Teaching the truth that leaves men unafraid + Of frowning tyranny or death's dark face. + + Oh, who can tell how much we owe to thee, + Makemie, and to labour such as thine, + For all that makes America the shrine + Of faith untrammelled and of conscience free? + Stand here, gray stone, and consecrate the sod + Where rests this brave Scotch-Irish man of God! + +April, 1908. + + + +THE STATUE OF SHERMAN BY ST. GAUDENS + + + This is the soldier brave enough to tell + The glory-dazzled world that 'war is hell': + Lover of peace, he looks beyond the strife, + And rides through hell to save his country's life. + +April, 1904. + + + +"AMERICA FOR ME" + + + 'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down + Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, + To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,-- + But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. + + _So it's home again, and home again, America for me! + My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be, + In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + + Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; + And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair; + And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; + But when it comes to living there is no place like home. + + I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled; + I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled; + But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day + In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way! + + I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack: + The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. + But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,-- + We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. + + _Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! + I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, + To the blesséd Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + +June, 1909. + + + +THE BUILDERS + +ODE FOR THE HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF PRINCETON COLLEGE + +October 21, 1896 + + +I + + Into the dust of the making of man + Spirit was breathed when his life began, + Lifting him up from his low estate, + With masterful passion, the wish to create. + Out of the dust of his making, man + Fashioned his works as the ages ran; + Fortress, and palace, and temple, and tower, + Filling the world with the proof of his power. + Over the dust that awaits him, man, + Building the walls that his pride doth plan, + Dreams they will stand in the light of the sun + Bearing his name till Time is done. + + +II + + The monuments of mortals + Are as the glory of the grass; + Through Time's dim portals + A voiceless, viewless wind doth pass, + The blossoms fall before it in a day, + The forest monarchs year by year decay, + And man's great buildings slowly fade away. + One after one, + They pay to that dumb breath + The tribute of their death, + And are undone. + The towers incline to dust, + The massive girders rust, + The domes dissolve in air, + The pillars that upbear + The lofty arches crumble, stone by stone, + While man the builder looks about him in despair, + For all his works of pride and power are overthrown. + + +III + + A Voice came from the sky: + "Set thy desires more high. + Thy buildings fade away + Because thou buildest clay. + Now make the fabric sure + With stones that will endure! + Hewn from the spiritual rock, + The immortal towers of the soul + At Death's dissolving touch shall mock, + And stand secure while æons roll." + + +IV + + Well did the wise in heart rejoice + To hear the summons of that Voice, + And patiently begin + The builder's work within, + Houses not made with hands, + Nor founded on the sands. + And thou, Reverèd Mother, at whose call + We come to keep thy joyous festival, + And celebrate thy labours on the walls of Truth + Through sevenscore years and ten of thine eternal youth-- + A master builder thou, + And on thy shining brow, + Like Cybele, in fadeless light dost wear + A diadem of turrets strong and fair. + + +V + + I see thee standing in a lonely land, + But late and hardly won from solitude, + Unpopulous and rude,-- + On that far western shore I see thee stand, + Like some young goddess from a brighter strand, + While in thine eyes a radiant thought is born, + Enkindling all thy beauty like the morn. + Sea-like the forest rolled, in waves of green, + And few the lights that glimmered, leagues between. + High in the north, for fourscore years alone + Fair Harvard's earliest beacon-tower had shone + When Yale was lighted, and an answering ray + Flashed from the meadows by New Haven Bay. + But deeper spread the forest, and more dark, + Where first Neshaminy received the spark + Of sacred learning to a woodland camp, + And Old Log College glowed with Tennant's lamp. + Thine, Alma Mater, was the larger sight, + That saw the future of that trembling light, + And thine the courage, thine the stronger will, + That built its loftier home on Princeton Hill. + + "New light!" men cried, and murmured that it came + From an unsanctioned source with lawless flame; + It shone too free, for still the church and school + Must only shine according to their rule. + But Princeton answered, in her nobler mood, + "God made the light, and all the light is good. + There is no war between the old and new; + The conflict lies between the false and true. + The stars, that high in heaven their courses run, + In glory differ, but their light is one. + The beacons, gleaming o'er the sea of life, + Are rivals but in radiance, not in strife. + Shine on, ye sister-towers, across the night! + I too will build a lasting house of light." + + +VI + + Brave was that word of faith and bravely was it kept: + With never-wearying zeal that faltered not, nor slept, + Our Alma Mater toiled, and while she firmly laid + The deep foundation-walls, at all her toil she prayed. + And men who loved the truth because it made them free, + And clearly saw the twofold Word of God agree, + Reading from Nature's book and from the Bible's page + By the same inward ray that grows from age to age, + Were built like living stones that beacon to uplift, + And drawing light from heaven gave to the world the gift. + Nor ever, while they searched the secrets of the earth, + Or traced the stream of life through mystery to its birth, + Nor ever, while they taught the lightning-flash to bear + The messages of man in silence through the air, + Fell from their home of light one false, perfidious ray + To blind the trusting heart, or lead the life astray. + But still, while knowledge grew more luminous and broad + It lit the path of faith and showed the way to God. + + +VII + + Yet not for peace alone + Labour the builders. + Work that in peace has grown + Swiftly is overthrown, + When in the darkening skies + Storm-clouds of wrath arise, + And through the cannon's crash, + War's deadly lightning-flash + Smites and bewilders. + Ramparts of strength must frown + Round every placid town + And city splendid; + All that our fathers wrought + With true prophetic thought, + Must be defended! + + +VIII + + But who could raise protecting walls for thee, + Thou young, defenceless land of liberty? + Or who could build a fortress strong enough, + Or stretch a mighty bulwark long enough + To hold thy far-extended coast + Against the overweening host + That took the open path across the sea, + And like a tempest poured + Their desolating horde, + To quench thy dawning light in gloom of tyranny? + Yet not unguarded thou wert found + When on thy shore with sullen sound + The blaring trumpets of an unjust king + Proclaimed invasion. From the ground, + In freedom's darkest hour, there seemed to spring + Unconquerable walls for her defence; + Not trembling, like those battlements of stone + That fell when Joshua's horns were blown; + But firm and stark the living rampart rose, + To meet the onset of imperious foes + With a long line of brave, unyielding men. + This was thy fortress, well-defended land, + And on these walls, the patient, building hand + Of Princeton laboured with the force of ten. + Her sons were foremost in the furious fight; + Her sons were firmest to uphold the right + In council-chambers of the new-born State, + And prove that he who would be free must first be great + In heart, and high in thought, and strong + In purpose not to do or suffer wrong. + Such were the men, impregnable to fear, + Whose souls were framed and fashioned here; + And when war shook the land with threatening shock, + The men of Princeton stood like muniments of rock. + Nor has the breath of Time + Dissolved that proud array + Of never-broken strength: + For though the rocks decay, + And all the iron bands + Of earthly strongholds are unloosed at length, + And buried deep in gray oblivion's sands; + The work that heroes' hands + Wrought in the light of freedom's natal day + Shall never fade away, + But lifts itself, sublime + Into a lucid sphere, + For ever calm and clear, + Preserving in the memory of the fathers' deed, + A never-failing fortress for their children's need. + There we confirm our hearts to-day, and read + On many a stone the signature of fame, + The builder's mark, our Alma Mater's name. + + +IX + + Bear with us then a moment, while we turn + From all the present splendours of this place-- + The lofty towers that like a dream have grown + Where once old Nassau Hall stood all alone-- + Back to that ancient time, with hearts that burn + In filial gratitude, to trace + The glory of our mother's best degree, + In that "high son of Liberty," + Who like a granite block, + Riven from Scotland's rock, + Stood loyal here to keep Columbia free. + Born far away beyond the ocean's tide, + He found his fatherland upon this side; + And every drop of ardent blood that ran + Through his great heart, was true American. + He held no fealty to a distant throne, + But made his new-found country's cause his own. + In peril and distress, + In toil and weariness, + When darkness overcast her + With shadows of disaster, + And voices of confusion + Proclaimed her hope delusion, + Robed in his preacher's gown, + He dared the danger down; + Like some old prophet chanting an inspired rune + In freedom's councils rang the voice of Witherspoon. + + And thou, my country, write it on thy heart: + _Thy sons are they who nobly take thy part; + Who dedicates his manhood at thy shrine, + Wherever born, is born a son of thine. + Foreign in name, but not in soul, they come + To find in thee their long desired home; + Lovers of liberty and haters of disorder, + They shall be built in strength along thy border._ + + Dream not thy future foes + Will all be foreign-born! + Turn thy clear look of scorn + Upon thy children who oppose + Their passions wild and policies of shame + To wreck the righteous splendour of thy name. + Untaught and overconfident they rise, + With folly on their lips, and envy in their eyes: + Strong to destroy, but powerless to create, + And ignorant of all that made our fathers great, + Their hands would take away thy golden crown, + And shake the pillars of thy freedom down + In Anarchy's ocean, dark and desolate. + O should that storm descend, + What fortress shall defend + The land our fathers wrought for, + The liberties they fought for? + What bulwark shall secure + Her shrines of law, and keep her founts of justice pure? + Then, ah then, + As in the olden days, + The builders must upraise + A rampart of indomitable men. + And once again, + Dear Mother, if thy heart and hand be true, + There will be building work for thee to do; + Yea, more than once again, + Thou shalt win lasting praise, + And never-dying honour shall be thine, + For setting many stones in that illustrious line, + To stand unshaken in the swirling strife, + And guard their country's honour as her life. + + +X + + Softly, my harp, and let me lay the touch + Of silence on these rudely clanging strings; + For he who sings + Even of noble conflicts overmuch, + Loses the inward sense of better things; + And he who makes a boast + Of knowledge, darkens that which counts the most,-- + The insight of a wise humility + That reverently adores what none can see. + The glory of our life below + Comes not from what we do, or what we know, + But dwells forevermore in what we are. + There is an architecture grander far + Than all the fortresses of war, + More inextinguishably bright + Than learning's lonely towers of light. + Framing its walls of faith and hope and love + In souls of men, it lifts above + The frailty of our earthly home + An everlasting dome; + The sanctuary of the human host, + The living temple of the Holy Ghost. + + +XI + + If music led the builders long ago, + When Arthur planned the halls of Camelot, + And made the royal city grow, + Fair as a flower in that forsaken spot; + What sweeter music shall we bring, + To weave a harmony divine + Of prayer and holy thought + Into the labours of this loftier shrine, + This consecrated hill, + Where through so many a year + Our Alma Mater's hand hath wrought, + With toil serene and still, + And heavenly hope, to rear + Eternal dwellings for the Only King? + Here let no martial trumpets blow, + Nor instruments of pride proclaim + The loud exultant notes of fame! + But let the chords be clear and low, + And let the anthem deeper grow, + And let it move more solemnly and slow; + For only such an ode + Can seal the harmony + Of that deep masonry + Wherein the soul of man is framed for God's abode. + + +XII + + O Thou whose boundless love bestows + The joy of earth, the hope of Heaven, + And whose unchartered mercy flows + O'er all the blessings Thou hast given; + Thou by whose light alone we see; + And by whose truth our souls set free + Are made imperishably strong; + Hear Thou the solemn music of our song. + + Grant us the knowledge that we need + To solve the questions of the mind, + And light our candle while we read, + To keep our hearts from going blind; + Enlarge our vision to behold + The wonders Thou hast wrought of old; + Reveal thyself in every law, + And gild the towers of truth with holy awe. + + Be Thou our strength if war's wild gust + Shall rage around us, loud and fierce; + Confirm our souls and let our trust + Be like a shield that none can pierce; + Renew the courage that prevails, + The steady faith that never fails, + And make us stand in every fight + Firm as a fortress to defend the right. + + O God, control us as Thou wilt, + And guide the labour of our hand; + Let all our work be surely built + As Thou, the architect, hast planned; + But whatso'er thy power shall make + Of these frail lives, do not forsake + Thy dwelling: let thy presence rest + For ever in the temple of our breast. + + + +SPIRIT OF THE EVERLASTING BOY + +ODE FOR THE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF LAWRENCEVILLE SCHOOL + +June 11, 1910 + + +I + + The British bard who looked on Eton's walls, + Endeared by distance in the pearly gray + And soft aerial blue that ever falls + On English landscape with the dying day, + Beheld in thought his boyhood far away, + Its random raptures and its festivals + Of noisy mirth, + The brief illusion of its idle joys, + And mourned that none of these can stay + With men, whom life inexorably calls + To face the grim realities of earth. + His pensive fancy pictured there at play + From year to year the careless bands of boys, + Unconscious victims kept in golden state, + While haply they await + The dark approach of disenchanting Fate, + To hale them to the sacrifice + Of Pain and Penury and Grief and Care, + Slow-withering Age, or Failure's swift despair. + Half-pity and half-envy dimmed the eyes + Of that old poet, gazing on the scene + Where long ago his youth had flowed serene, + And all the burden of his ode was this: + "Where ignorance is bliss, + 'Tis folly to be wise." + + +II + + But not for us, O plaintive elegist, + Thine epicedial tone of sad farewell + To joy in wisdom and to thought in youth! + Our western Muse would keep her tryst + With sunrise, not with sunset, and foretell + In boyhood's bliss the dawn of manhood's truth. + + +III + + O spirit of the everlasting boy, + Alert, elate, + And confident that life is good, + Thou knockest boldly at the gate, + In hopeful hardihood, + Eager to enter and enjoy + Thy new estate. + + Through the old house thou runnest everywhere, + Bringing a breath of folly and fresh air. + Ready to make a treasure of each toy, + Or break them all in discontented mood; + Fearless of Fate, + Yet strangely fearful of a comrade's laugh; + Reckless and timid, hard and sensitive; + In talk a rebel, full of mocking chaff, + At heart devout conservative; + In love with love, yet hating to be kissed; + Inveterate optimist, + And judge severe, + In reason cloudy but in feeling clear; + Keen critic, ardent hero-worshipper, + Impatient of restraint in little ways, + Yet ever ready to confer + On chosen leaders boundless power and praise; + Adventurous spirit burning to explore + Untrodden paths where hidden danger lies, + And homesick heart looking with wistful eyes + Through every twilight to a mother's door; + Thou daring, darling, inconsistent boy, + How dull the world would be + Without thy presence, dear barbarian, + And happy lord of high futurity! + Be what thou art, our trouble and our joy, + Our hardest problem and our brightest hope! + And while thine elders lead thee up the slope + Of knowledge, let them learn from teaching thee + That vital joy is part of nature's plan, + And he who keeps the spirit of the boy + Shall gladly grow to be a happy man. + + +IV + + What constitutes a school? + Not ancient halls and ivy-mantled towers, + Where dull traditions rule + With heavy hand youth's lightly springing powers; + Not spacious pleasure courts, + And lofty temples of athletic fame, + Where devotees of sports + Mistake a pastime for life's highest aim; + Not fashion, nor renown + Of wealthy patronage and rich estate; + No, none of these can crown + A school with light and make it truly great. + But masters, strong and wise, + Who teach because they love the teacher's task, + And find their richest prize + In eyes that open and in minds that ask; + And boys, with heart aglow + To try their youthful vigour on their work, + Eager to learn and grow, + And quick to hate a coward or a shirk: + These constitute a school,-- + A vital forge of weapons keen and bright, + Where living sword and tool + Are tempered for true toil or noble fight! + But let not wisdom scorn + The hours of pleasure in the playing fields: + There also strength is born, + And every manly game a virtue yields. + Fairness and self-control, + Good-humour, pluck, and patience in the race, + Will make a lad heart-whole + To win with honour, lose without disgrace. + Ah, well for him who gains + In such a school apprenticeship to life: + With him the joy of youth remains + In later lessons and in larger strife! + + +V + + On Jersey's rolling plain, where Washington, + In midnight marching at the head + Of ragged regiments, his army led + To Princeton's victory of the rising sun; + Here in this liberal land, by battle won + For Freedom and the rule + Of equal rights for every child of man, + Arose a democratic school, + To train a virile race of sons to bear + With thoughtful joy the name American, + And serve the God who heard their father's prayer. + No cloister, dreaming in a world remote + From that real world wherein alone we live; + No mimic court, where titled names denote + A dignity that only worth can give; + But here a friendly house of learning stood, + With open door beside the broad highway, + And welcomed lads to study and to play + In generous rivalry of brotherhood. + A hundred years have passed, and Lawrenceville, + In beauty and in strength renewed, + Stands with her open portal still, + And neither time nor fortune brings + To her deep spirit any change of mood, + Or faltering from the faith she held of old. + Still to the democratic creed she clings: + That manhood needs nor rank nor gold + To make it noble in our eyes; + That every boy is born with royal right, + From blissful ignorance to rise + To joy more lasting and more bright, + In mastery of body and of mind, + King of himself and servant of mankind. + + +VI + + Old Lawrenceville, + Thy happy bell + Shall ring to-day, + O'er vale and hill, + O'er mead and dell, + While far away, + With silent thrill, + The echoes roll + Through many a soul, + That knew thee well, + In boyhood's day, + And loves thee still. + + Ah, who can tell + How far away, + Some sentinel + Of God's good will, + In forest cool, + Or desert gray, + By lonely pool, + Or barren hill, + Shall faintly hear, + With inward ear, + The chiming bell, + Of his old school, + Through darkness pealing; + And lowly kneeling, + Shall feel the spell + Of grateful tears + His eyelids fill; + And softly pray + To Him who hears: + God bless old Lawrenceville! + + + +TEXAS + +A DEMOCRATIC ODE [1] + + +I + +THE WILD-BEES + + All along the Brazos river, + All along the Colorado, + In the valleys and the lowlands + Where the trees were tall and stately, + In the rich and rolling meadows + Where the grass was full of wild-flowers, + Came a humming and a buzzing, + Came the murmur of a going + To and fro among the tree-tops, + Far and wide across the meadows. + And the red-men in their tepees + Smoked their pipes of clay and listened. + "What is this?" they asked in wonder; + "Who can give the sound a meaning? + Who can understand the language + Of this going in the tree-tops?" + Then the wisest of the Tejas + Laid his pipe aside and answered: + "O my brothers, these are people, + Very little, winged people, + Countless, busy, banded people, + Coming humming through the timber. + These are tribes of bees, united + By a single aim and purpose, + To possess the Tejas' country, + Gather harvest from the prairies, + Store their wealth among the timber. + These are hive and honey makers, + Sent by Manito to warn us + That the white men now are coming, + With their women and their children. + Not the fiery filibusters + Passing wildly in a moment, + Like a flame across the prairies, + Like a whirlwind through the forest, + Leaving empty lands behind them! + Not the Mexicans and Spaniards, + Indolent and proud hidalgos, + Dwelling in their haciendas, + Dreaming, talking of tomorrow, + While their cattle graze around them, + And their fickle revolutions + Change the rulers, not the people! + Other folk are these who follow + When the wild-bees come to warn us; + These are hive and honey makers, + These are busy, banded people, + Roaming far to swarm and settle, + Working every day for harvest, + Fighting hard for peace and order, + Worshipping as queens their women, + Making homes and building cities + Full of riches and of trouble. + All our hunting-grounds must vanish, + All our lodges fall before them, + All our customs and traditions, + All our happy life of freedom, + Fade away like smoke before them. + Come, my brothers, strike your tepees, + Call your women, load your ponies! + Let us take the trail to westward, + Where the plains are wide and open, + Where the bison-herds are gathered + Waiting for our feathered arrows. + We will live as lived our fathers, + Gleaners of the gifts of nature, + Hunters of the unkept cattle, + Men whose women run to serve them. + If the toiling bees pursue us, + If the white men seek to tame us, + We will fight them off and flee them, + Break their hives and take their honey, + Moving westward, ever westward, + There to live as lived our fathers." + So the red-men drove their ponies, + With the tent-poles trailing after, + Out along the path to sunset, + While along the river valleys + Swarmed the wild-bees, the forerunners; + And the white men, close behind them, + Men of mark from old Missouri, + Men of daring from Kentucky, + Tennessee, Louisiana, + Men of many States and races, + Bringing wives and children with them, + Followed up the wooded valleys, + Spread across the rolling prairies, + Raising homes and reaping harvests. + Rude the toil that tried their patience, + Fierce the fights that proved their courage, + Rough the stone and tough the timber + Out of which they built their order! + Yet they never failed nor faltered, + And the instinct of their swarming + Made them one and kept them working, + Till their toil was crowned with triumph, + And the country of the Tejas + Was the fertile land of Texas. + + +II + +THE LONE STAR + + Behold a star appearing in the South, + A star that shines apart from other stars, + Ruddy and fierce like Mars! + Out of the reeking smoke of cannon's mouth + That veils the slaughter of the Alamo, + Where heroes face the foe, + One man against a score, with blood-choked breath + Shouting the watchword, "Victory or Death--" + Out of the dreadful cloud that settles low + On Goliad's plain, + Where thrice a hundred prisoners lie slain + Beneath the broken word of Mexico-- + Out of the fog of factions and of feuds + That ever drifts and broods + Above the bloody path of border war, + Leaps the Lone Star! + + What light is this that does not dread the dark? + What star is this that fights a stormy way + To San Jacinto's field of victory? + It is the fiery spark + That burns within the breast + Of Anglo-Saxon men, who can not rest + Under a tyrant's sway; + The upward-leading ray + That guides the brave who give their lives away + Rather than not be free! + O question not, but honour every name, + Travis and Crockett, Bowie, Bonham, Ward, + Fannin and King, and all who drew the sword + And dared to die for Texan liberty! + Yea, write them all upon the roll of fame, + But no less love and equal honour give + To those who paid the longer sacrifice-- + Austin and Houston, Burnet, Rusk, Lamar + And all the stalwart men who dared to live + Long years of service to the lonely star. + + Great is the worth of such heroic souls: + Amid the strenuous turmoil of their deeds, + They clearly speak of something that controls + The higher breeds of men by higher needs + Than bees, content with honey in their hives! + Ah, not enough the narrow lives + On profitable toil intent! + And not enough the guerdons of success + Garnered in homes of affluent selfishness! + A noble discontent + Cries for a wider scope + To use the wider wings of human hope; + A vision of the common good + Opens the prison-door of solitude; + And, once beyond the wall, + Breathing the ampler air, + The heart becomes aware + _That life without a country is not life at all._ + A country worthy of a freeman's love; + A country worthy of a good man's prayer; + A country strong, and just, and brave, and fair,-- + A woman's form of beauty throned above + The shrine where noble aspirations meet-- + To live for her is great, to die is sweet! + + Heirs of the rugged pioneers + Who dreamed this dream and made it true, + Remember that they dreamed for you. + They did not fear their fate + In those tempestuous years, + But put their trust in God, and with keen eyes, + Trained in the open air for looking far, + They saw the many-million-acred land + Won from the desert by their hand, + Swiftly among the nations rise,-- + Texas a sovereign State, + And on her brow a star! + + +III + +THE CONSTELLATION + + How strange that the nature of light is a thing beyond our ken, + And the flame of the tiniest candle flows from a fountain sealed! + How strange that the meaning of life, in the little lives of men, + So often baffles our search with a mystery unrevealed! + + But the larger life of man, as it moves in its secular sweep, + Is the working out of a Sovereign Will whose ways appear; + And the course of the journeying stars on the dark blue boundless deep, + Is the place where our science rests in the reign of law most clear. + + I would read the story of Texas as if it were written on high; + I would look from afar to follow her path through the calms and storms; + With a faith in the worldwide sway of the Reason that rules in the sky, + And gathers and guides the starry host in clusters and swarms. + + When she rose in the pride of her youth, she seemed to be moving apart, + As a single star in the South, self-limited, self-possessed; + But the law of the constellation was written deep in her heart, + And she heard when her sisters called, from the North and the East and + the West. + + They were drawn together and moved by a common hope and aim-- + The dream of a sign that should rule a third of the heavenly arch; + The soul of a people spoke in their call, and Texas came + To enter the splendid circle of States in their onward march. + + So the glory gathered and grew and spread from sea to sea, + And the stars of the great republic lent each other light; + For all were bound together in strength, and each was free-- + Suddenly broke the tempest out of the ancient night! + + It came as a clash of the force that drives and the force that draws; + And the stars were riven asunder, the heavens were desolate, + While brother fought with brother, each for his country's cause: + But the country of one was the Nation, the country of other the State. + + Oh, who shall measure the praise or blame in a strife so vast? + And who shall speak of traitors or tyrants when all were true? + We lift our eyes to the sky, and rejoice that the storm is past, + And we thank the God of all that the Union shines in the blue. + + Yea, it glows with the glory of peace and the hope of a mighty race, + High over the grave of broken chains and buried hates; + And the great, big star of Texas is shining clear in its place + In the constellate symbol and sign of the free United States. + + +IV + +AFTER THE PIONEERS + + After the pioneers-- + Big-hearted, big-handed lords of the axe and the plow and the rifle, + Tan-faced tamers of horses and lands, themselves remaining tameless, + Full of fighting, labour and romance, lovers of rude adventure-- + After the pioneers have cleared the way to their homes and graves on the + prairies: + + After the State-builders-- + Zealous and jealous men, dreamers, debaters, often at odds with each + other, + All of them sure it is well to toil and to die, if need be, + Just for the sake of founding a country to leave to their children-- + After the builders have done their work and written their names upon it: + + After the civil war-- + Wildest of all storms, cruel and dark and seemingly wasteful, + Tearing up by the root the vines that were splitting the old foundations, + Washing away with a rain of blood and tears the dust of slavery, + After the cyclone has passed and the sky is fair to the far horizon; + After the era of plenty and peace has come with full hands to Texas, + Then--what then? + + Is it to be the life of an indolent heir, fat-witted and self-contented, + Dwelling at ease in the house that others have builded, + Boasting about the country for which he has done nothing? + Is it to be an age of corpulent, deadly-dull prosperity, + Richer and richer crops to nourish a race of Philistines, + Bigger and bigger cities full of the same confusion and sorrow, + The people increasing mightily but no increase of the joy? + Is this what the forerunners wished and toiled to win for you, + This the reward of war and the fruitage of high endeavor, + This the goal of your hopes and the vision that satisfies you? + + Nay, stand up and answer--I can read what is in your hearts-- + You, the children of those who followed the wild-bees, + You, the children of those who served the Lone Star, + Now that the hives are full and the star is fixed in the constellation, + I know that the best of you still are lovers of sweetness and light! + + You hunger for honey that comes from invisible gardens; + Pure, translucent, golden thoughts and feelings and inspirations, + Sweetness of all the best that has bloomed in the mind of man. + You rejoice in the light that is breaking along the borders of science; + The hidden rays that enable a man to look through a wall of stone; + The unseen, fire-filled wings that carry his words across the ocean; + The splendid gift of flight that shines, half-captured, above him; + The gleam of a thousand half-guessed secrets, just ready to be + discovered! + You dream and devise great things for the coming race-- + Children of yours who shall people and rule the domain of Texas; + They shall know, they shall comprehend more than their fathers, + They shall grow in the vigour of well-rounded manhood and womanhood, + Riper minds, richer hearts, finer souls, the only true wealth of a + nation-- + The league-long fields of the State are pledged to ensure this harvest! + + Your old men have dreamed this dream and your young men have seen this + vision. + The age of romance has not gone, it is only beginning; + Greater words than the ear of man has heard are waiting to be spoken, + Finer arts than the eyes of man have seen are sleeping to be awakened: + Science exploring the scope of the world, + Poetry breathing the hope of the world, + Music to measure and lead the onward march of man! + + Come, ye honoured and welcome guests from the elder nations, + Princes of science and arts and letters, + Look on the walls that embody the generous dream of one of the old men + of Texas, + Enter these halls of learning that rise in the land of the pioneer's + log-cabin, + Read the confessions of faith that are carved on the stones around you: + Faith in the worth of the smallest fact and the laws that govern the + starbeams, + Faith in the beauty of truth and the truth of perfect beauty, + Faith in the God who creates the souls of men by knowledge and love and + worship. + + This is the faith of the New Democracy-- + Proud and humble, patiently pressing forward, + Praising her heroes of old and training her future leaders, + Seeking her crown in a nobler race of men and women-- + After the pioneers, sweetness and light! + +October, 1912. + +[1] Read at the Dedication of the Rice Institute, Houston, Texas, + October, 1912. + + + +WHO FOLLOW THE FLAG + +PHI BETA KAPPA ODE + +HARVARD UNIVERSITY + +June 30, 1910 + + +I + + All day long in the city's canyon-street, + With its populous cliffs alive on either side, + I saw a river of marching men like a tide + Flowing after the flag: and the rhythmic beat + Of the drums, and the bugles' resonant blare + Metred the tramp, tramp, tramp of a myriad feet, + While the red-white-and-blue was fluttering everywhere, + And the heart of the crowd kept time to a martial air: + + _O brave flag, O bright flag, O flag to lead the free! + The glory of thy silver stars, + Engrailed in blue above the bars + Of red for courage, white for truth, + Has brought the world a second youth + And drawn a hundred million hearts to follow after thee._ + + +II + + Old Cambridge saw thee first unfurled, + By Washington's far-reaching hand, + To greet, in Seventy-six, the wintry morn + Of a new year, and herald to the world + Glad tidings from a Western land,-- + A people and a hope new-born! + The double cross then filled thine azure field, + In token of a spirit loath to yield + The breaking ties that bound thee to a throne. + But not for long thine oriflamme could bear + That symbol of an outworn trust in kings. + The wind that bore thee out on widening wings + Called for a greater sign and all thine own,-- + A new device to speak of heavenly laws + And lights that surely guide the people's cause. + Oh, greatly did they hope, and greatly dare, + Who bade the stars in heaven fight for them, + And set upon their battle-flag a fair + New constellation as a diadem! + Along the blood-stained banks of Brandywine + The ragged troops were rallied to this sign; + Through Saratoga's woods it fluttered bright + Amid the perils of the hard-won fight; + O'er Yorktown's meadows broad and green + It hailed the glory of the final scene; + And when at length Manhattan saw + The last invaders' line of scarlet coats + Pass Bowling Green, and fill the waiting boats + And sullenly withdraw, + The flag that proudly flew + Above the battered line of buff and blue, + Marching, with rattling drums and shrilling pipes, + Along the Bowery and down Broadway, + Was this that leads the great parade to-day,-- + The glorious banner of the stars and stripes. + + + _First of the flags of earth to dare + A heraldry so high; + First of the flags of earth to bear + The blazons of the sky; + Long may thy constellation glow, + Foretelling happy fate; + Wider thy starry circle grow, + And every star a State!_ + + +III + + Pass on, pass on, ye flashing files + Of men who march in militant array; + Ye thrilling bugles, throbbing drums, + Ring out, roll on, and die away; + And fade, ye crowds, with the fading day! + Around the city's lofty piles + Of steel and stone + The lilac veil of dusk is thrown, + Entangled full of sparks of fairy light; + And the never-silent heart of the city hums + To a homeward-turning tune before the night. + But far above, on the sky-line's broken height, + From all the towers and domes outlined + In gray and gold along the city's crest, + I see the rippling flag still take the wind + With a promise of good to come for all mankind. + + +IV + + O banner of the west, + No proud and brief parade, + That glorifies a nation's holiday + With show of troops for warfare dressed, + Can rightly measure or display + The mighty army thou hast made + Loyal to guard thy more than royal sway. + Millions have come across the sea + To find beneath thy shelter room to grow; + Millions were born beneath thy folds and know + No other flag but thee. + And other, darker millions bore the yoke + Of bondage in thy borders till the voice + Of Lincoln spoke, + And sent thee forth to set the bondmen free. + Rejoice, dear flag, rejoice! + Since thou hast proved and passed that bitter strife, + Richer thy red with blood of heroes wet, + Purer thy white through sacrificial life, + Brighter thy blue wherein new stars are set. + Thou art become a sign, + Revealed in heaven to speak of things divine: + Of Truth that dares + To slay the lie it sheltered unawares; + Of Courage fearless in the fight, + Yet ever quick its foemen to forgive; + Of Conscience earnest to maintain its right + And gladly grant the same to all who live. + Thy staff is deeply planted in the fact + That nothing can ennoble man + Save his own act, + And naught can make him worthy to be free + But practice in the school of liberty. + The cords are two that lift thee to the sky: + Firm faith in God, the King who rules on high; + And never-failing trust + In human nature, full of faults and flaws, + Yet ever answering to the inward call + That bids it set the "ought" above the "must," + In all its errors wiser than it seems, + In all its failures full of generous dreams, + Through endless conflict rising without pause + To self-dominion, charactered in laws + That pledge fair-play alike to great and small, + And equal rights for each beneath the rule of all. + These are thy halyards, banner bold, + And while these hold, + Thy brightness from the sky shall never fall, + Thy broadening empire never know decrease,-- + Thy strength is union and thy glory peace. + + +V + + Look forth across thy widespread lands, + O flag, and let thy stars to-night be eyes + To see the visionary hosts + Of men and women grateful to be thine, + That joyfully arise + From all thy borders and thy coasts, + And follow after thee in endless line! + They lift to thee a forest of saluting hands; + They hail thee with a rolling ocean-roar + Of cheers; and as the echo dies, + There comes a sweet and moving song + Of treble voices from the childish throng + Who run to thee from every school-house door. + Behold thine army! Here thy power lies: + The men whom freedom has made strong, + And bound to follow thee by willing vows; + The women greatened by the joys + Of motherhood to rule a happy house; + The vigorous girls and boys, + Whose eager faces and unclouded brows + Foretell the future of a noble race, + Rich in the wealth of wisdom and true worth! + While millions such as these to thee belong, + What foe can do thee wrong, + What jealous rival rob thee of thy place + Foremost of all the flags of earth? + + +VI + + My vision darkens as the night descends; + And through the mystic atmosphere + I feel the creeping coldness that portends + A change of spirit in my dream + The multitude that moved with song and cheer + Have vanished, yet a living stream + Flows on and follows still the flag, + But silent now, with leaden feet that lag + And falter in the deepening gloom,-- + A weird battalion bringing up the rear. + Ah, who are these on whom the vital bloom + Of life has withered to the dust of doom? + These little pilgrims prematurely worn + And bent as if they bore the weight of years? + These childish faces, pallid and forlorn, + Too dull for laughter and too hard for tears? + Is this the ghost of that insane crusade + That led ten thousand children long ago, + A flock of innocents, deceived, betrayed, + Yet pressing on through want and woe + To meet their fate, faithful and unafraid? + Nay, for a million children now + Are marching in the long pathetic line, + With weary step and early wrinkled brow; + And at their head appears no holy sign + Of hope in heaven; + For unto them is given + No cross to carry, but a cross to drag. + Before their strength is ripe they bear + The load of labour, toiling underground + In dangerous mines and breathing heavy air + Of crowded shops; their tender lives are bound + To service of the whirling, clattering wheels + That fill the factories with dust and noise; + They are not girls and boys, + But little "hands" who blindly, dumbly feed + With their own blood the hungry god of Greed. + Robbed of their natural joys, + And wounded with a scar that never heals, + They stumble on with heavy-laden soul, + And fall by thousands on the highway lined + With little graves; or reach at last their goal + Of stunted manhood and embittered age, + To brood awhile with dark and troubled mind, + Beside the smouldering fire of sullen rage, + On life's unfruitful work and niggard wage. + Are these the regiments that Freedom rears + To serve her cause in coming years? + Nay, every life that Avarice doth maim + And beggar in the helpless days of youth, + Shall surely claim + A just revenge, and take it without ruth; + And every soul denied the right to grow + Beneath the flag, shall be its secret foe. + Bow down, dear land, in penitence and shame! + Remember now thine oath, so nobly sworn, + To guard an equal lot + For every child within thy borders born! + These are thy children whom thou hast forgot: + They have the bitter right to live, but not + The blessed right to look for happiness. + O lift thy liberating hand once more, + To loose thy little ones from dark duress; + The vital gladness to their hearts restore + In healthful lessons and in happy play; + And set them free to climb the upward way + That leads to self-reliant nobleness. + Speak out, my country, speak at last, + As thou hast spoken in the past, + And clearly, bravely say: + "I will defend + The coming race on whom my hopes depend: + Beneath my flag and on my sacred soil + No child shall bear the crushing yoke of toil." + + +VII + + Look up, look up, ye downcast eyes! + The night is almost gone: + Along the new horizon flies + The banner of the dawn; + The eastern sky is banded low + With white and crimson bars, + While far above the morning glow + The everlasting stars. + + _O bright flag, O brave flag, O flag to lead the free! + The hand of God thy colours blent, + And heaven to earth thy glory lent, + To shield the weak, and guide the strong + To make an end of human wrong, + And draw a countless human host to follow after thee!_ + + + +STAIN NOT THE SKY + + + Ye gods of battle, lords of fear, + Who work your iron will as well + As once ye did with sword and spear, + With rifled gun and rending shell,-- + Masters of sea and land, forbear + The fierce invasion of the inviolate air! + + With patient daring man hath wrought + A hundred years for power to fly; + And will you make his winged thought + A hovering horror in the sky, + Where flocks of human eagles sail, + Dropping their bolts of death on hill and dale? + + Ah no, the sunset is too pure, + The dawn too fair, the noon too bright + For wings of terror to obscure + Their beauty, and betray the night + That keeps for man, above his wars, + The tranquil vision of untroubled stars. + + Pass on, pass on, ye lords of fear! + Your footsteps in the sea are red, + And black on earth your paths appear + With ruined homes and heaps of dead. + Pass on to end your transient reign, + And leave the blue of heaven without a stain. + + The wrong ye wrought will fall to dust, + The right ye shielded will abide; + The world at last will learn to trust + In law to guard, and love to guide; + And Peace of God that answers prayer + Will fall like dew from the inviolate air. + +March 5, 1914. + + + +PEACE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC + + + O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand + Hath made our country free; + From all her broad and happy land + May praise arise to Thee. + Fulfill the promise of her youth, + Her liberty defend; + By law and order, love and truth, + America befriend! + + The strength of every State increase + In Union's golden chain; + Her thousand cities fill with peace, + Her million fields with grain. + The virtues of her mingled blood + In one new people blend; + By unity and brotherhood, + America befriend! + + O suffer not her feet to stray; + But guide her untaught might, + That she may walk in peaceful day, + And lead the world in light. + Bring down the proud, lift up the poor, + Unequal ways amend; + By justice, nation-wide and sure, + America befriend! + + Thro' all the waiting land proclaim + Thy gospel of good-will; + And may the music of Thy name + In every bosom thrill. + O'er hill and vale, from sea to sea. + Thy holy reign extend; + By faith and hope and charity, + America befriend! + + + + +THE RED FLOWER AND GOLDEN STARS + + +_These verses were written during the terrible world-war, and +immediately after. The earlier ones had to be unsigned because +America was still "neutral" and I held a diplomatic post. The +rest of them were printed after I had resigned, and was free to +speak out, and to take active service in the Navy, when America +entered the great conflict for liberty and peace on earth._ + +Avalon, February 22, 1920. + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +June, 1914 + + + In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + By the little river Kyll, + I followed the angler's winding path + Or waded the stream at will, + And the friendly fertile German land + Lay round me green and still. + + But all day long on the eastern bank + Of the river cool and clear, + Where the curving track of the double rails + Was hardly seen though near, + The endless trains of German troops + Went rolling down to Trier. + + They packed the windows with bullet heads + And caps of hodden gray; + They laughed and sang and shouted loud + When the trains were brought to a stay; + They waved their hands and sang again + As they went on their iron way. + + No shadow fell on the smiling land, + No cloud arose in the sky; + I could hear the river's quiet tune + When the trains had rattled by; + But my heart sank low with a heavy sense + Of trouble,--I knew not why. + + Then came I into a certain field + Where the devil's paint-brush spread + 'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills + A flaring splotch of red,-- + An evil omen, a bloody sign, + And a token of many dead. + + I saw in a vision the field-gray horde + Break forth at the devil's hour, + And trample the earth into crimson mud + In the rage of the Will to Power,-- + All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, + At the sign of the blood-red flower. + + + +A SCRAP OF PAPER + + "Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?"--_Question of the + German Chancellor to the British Ambassador_, _August 5_, 1914. + + + A mocking question! Britain's answer came + Swift as the light and searching as the flame. + + "Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight + Till our last breath, and God defend the right! + + "A scrap of paper where a name is set + Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. + + "A scrap of paper holds for man and wife + The sacrament of love, the bond of life. + + "A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ + With God's eternal word to hallow it. + + "A scrap of paper binds us both to stand + Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. + + "By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight + To keep our name upon that paper white." + +September, 1914. + + + +STAND FAST + + + Stand fast, Great Britain! + Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand + One in the faith that makes a mighty land,-- + True to the bond you gave and will not break + And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake! + Against the Giant Robber clad in steel, + With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, + Striding through France to strike you down at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, brave land! + The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; + They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; + Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword + They wield and worship is their only Lord. + O land where reason stands secure on right, + O land where freedom is the source of light, + Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, dear land! + Thou island mother of a world-wide race, + Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face, + Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife, + Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life; + Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; + Fight bravely on, until the word of peace + Is spoken in the English tongue at last,-- + Britain, stand fast! + +September, 1914. + + + +LIGHTS OUT + +(1915) + + + "Lights out" along the land, + "Lights out" upon the sea. + The night must put her hiding hand + O'er peaceful towns where children sleep, + And peaceful ships that darkly creep + Across the waves, as if they were not free. + + The dragons of the air, + The hell-hounds of the deep, + Lurking and prowling everywhere, + Go forth to seek their helpless prey, + Not knowing whom they maim or slay-- + Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap. + + Out with the tranquil lights, + Out with the lights that burn + For love and law and human rights! + Set back the clock a thousand years: + All they have gained now disappears, + And the dark ages suddenly return. + + Kaiser, who loosed wild death, + And terror in the night, + God grant you draw no quiet breath, + Until the madness you began + Is ended, and long-suffering man, + Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there be Light." + +October, 1915. + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, November, 1915. + + + +REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + +"_God said I am tired of kings._"--EMERSON. + + + God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- + But that was a long while ago! + And meantime man said, "No,-- + I like their looks in their robes and rings." + So he crowned a few more, + And they went on playing the game as before, + Fighting and spoiling things. + + Man said, "I am tired of kings! + Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, + They make me pay for their lust and their war; + I am the puppet, they pull the strings; + The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. + I will govern myself for awhile I think, + And see what that brings!" + + Then God, who made the first remark, + Smiled in the dark. + +October, 1915. + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, November, 1915. + + + +MIGHT AND RIGHT + + + If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage; + If Right made Might, this were the golden age; + But now, until we win the long campaign, + Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign. + +July 1, 1915. + + + +THE PRICE OF PEACE + + + Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- + A coward cringing to an iron Fate! + But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,-- + We'll pay the price of war to make it real. + +December 28, 1916. + + + +STORM-MUSIC + + + O Music hast thou only heard + The laughing river, the singing bird, + The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,-- + Nothing but Nature's melodies? + Nay, thou hearest all her tones, + As a Queen must hear! + Sounds of wrath and fear, + Mutterings, shouts, and moans, + Madness, tumult, and despair,-- + All she has that shakes the air + With voices fierce and wild! + Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,-- + Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign + Triumphant in a world of storm and strain! + + Echo the long-drawn sighs + Of the mounting wind in the pines; + And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise + In the dark of the troubled deep + To break on the beach in fiery lines. + Echo the far-off roll of thunder, + Rumbling loud + And ever louder, under + The blue-black curtain of cloud, + Where the lightning serpents gleam. + Echo the moaning + Of the forest in its sleep + Like a giant groaning + In the torment of a dream. + + Now an interval of quiet + For a moment holds the air + In the breathless hush + Of a silent prayer. + + Then the sudden rush + Of the rain, and the riot + Of the shrieking, tearing gale + Breaks loose in the night, + With a fusillade of hail! + Hear the forest fight, + With its tossing arms that crack and clash + In the thunder's cannonade, + While the lightning's forked flash + Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash! + Hear the breakers' deepening roar, + Driven like a herd of cattle + In the wild stampede of battle, + Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore! + + Is it the end of all? + Will the land crumble and fall? + Nay, for a voice replies + Out of the hidden skies, + "Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go, + So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: + Return to your bounds and cease, + And let the earth have peace!" + + O Music, lead the way-- + The stormy night is past, + Lift up our hearts to greet the day, + And the joy of things that last. + + The dissonance and pain + That mortals must endure, + Are changed in thine immortal strain + To something great and pure. + + True love will conquer strife, + And strength from conflict flows, + For discord is the thorn of life + And harmony the rose. + +May, 1916. + + + +THE BELLS OF MALINES + +August 17, 1914 + + + The gabled roofs of old Malines + Are russet red and gray and green, + And o'er them in the sunset hour + Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. + High in that rugged nest concealed, + The sweetest bells that ever pealed, + The deepest bells that ever rung, + The lightest bells that ever sung, + Are waiting for the master's hand + To fling their music o'er the land. + + And shall they ring to-night, Malines? + In nineteen hundred and fourteen, + The frightful year, the year of woe, + When fire and blood and rapine flow + Across the land from lost Liége, + Storm-driven by the German rage? + The other carillons have ceased: + Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diest, + From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, + Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb! + + But in thy belfry, O Malines, + The master of the bells unseen + Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,-- + To-night his heart is in his hands! + Once more, before invasion's hell + Breaks round the tower he loves so well, + Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, + And sends aërial harmonies + Far-floating through the twilight dim + In patriot song and holy hymn. + + O listen, burghers of Malines! + Soldier and workman, pale béguine, + And mother with a trembling flock + Of children clinging to thy frock,-- + Look up and listen, listen all! + What tunes are these that gently fall + Around you like a benison? + "The Flemish Lion," "Brabançonne," + "O brave Liége," and all the airs + That Belgium in her bosom bears. + + Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, + Whose notes like circling swallows fly; + And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- + "Jesu," "Maria," "Michaël!" + Weave in and out, and high and low, + The magic music that you know, + And let it float and flutter down + To cheer the heart of the troubled town. + Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- + "Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! + + O brave bell-music of Malines, + In this dark hour how much you mean! + The dreadful night of blood and tears + Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears + Deep in her heart the melody + Of songs she learned when she was free. + She will not falter, faint, nor fail, + But fight until her rights prevail + And all her ancient belfries ring + "The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!" + + + +JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS [2] + +1914-1916 + + + What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, + What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, + To prove the pride of thine inheritance + In this fair land of freedom and romance? + I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,-- + Smiling against the swords that seek thy life,-- + Make answer in a noble utterance: + "I give France all I have, and all she asks. + Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take: + My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,-- + My feet to run her errands through the dark,-- + My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,-- + And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!" + +April 16, 1916. + +[2] This sonnet belongs with the poem on page 309, + "Come Back Again, Jeanne D'Arc." + + + +THE NAME OF FRANCE + + + Give us a name to fill the mind + With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, + The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- + A name that tells of a splendid part + In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight + Of the human race to win its way + From the feudal darkness into the day + Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- + A name like a star, a name of light. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to stir the blood + With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, + At the touch of a courage that conquers fear,-- + A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear, + And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, + That calls three million men to their feet, + Ready to march, and steady to meet + The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- + A name that rings like a battle-song. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to move the heart + With the strength that noble griefs impart, + A name that speaks of the blood outpoured + To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- + A name that calls on the world to share + In the burden of sacrificial strife + When the cause at stake is the world's free life + And the rule of the people everywhere,-- + A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. + I give you _France_! + +The Hague, September, 1916. + + + +AMERICA'S PROSPERITY + + + They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; + Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed + With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold + Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled + Along thy network rails of East and West; + Thy factories and forges never rest; + Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold! + + But dost _thou_ prosper? Better news I crave. + O dearest country, is it well with thee + Indeed, and is thy soul in health? + A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave, + And thoughts that lift men up and make them free,-- + These are prosperity and vital wealth! + +The Hague, October 1, 1916. + + + +THE GLORY OF SHIPS + + + The glory of ships is an old, old song, + since the days when the sea-rovers ran, + In their open boats through the roaring surf, + and the spread of the world began; + The glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man. + + When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece + that conquered the Trojan shore, + And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre + that brought great wealth to his door, + 'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, + what would come of the sail and the oar. + + The Greek ships rescued the West from the East, + when they harried the Persians home; + And the Roman ships were the wings of strength + that bore up the empire, Rome; + And the ships of Spain found a wide new world, + far over the fields of foam. + + Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear + that the ocean was not a bound, + But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek + for treasure as yet unfound; + So the fearless ships fared forth to the search, + in joy that the globe was round. + + Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out, + they grew with the growth of their quest; + They opened the secret doors of the East, + and the golden gates of the West; + And many a city of high renown + was proud of a ship on its crest. + + The fleets of England and Holland and France + were at strife with each other and Spain; + And battle and storm sent a myriad ships + to sleep in the depths of the main; + But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned, + and it filled up the fleets again. + + They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam, + to a wonderful, vast array, + That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men + into every harbor and bay; + And now in the world-wide work of the ships + 'tis England that leads the way. + + O well for the leading that follows the law + of a common right on the sea! + But ill for the leader who tries to hold + what belongs to mankind in fee! + The way of the ships is an open way, + and the ocean must ever be free! + + Remember, O first of the maritime folk, + how the rise of your greatness began. + It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road + from the shame of a selfish ban; + For the glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man! + +September 12, 1916. + + + +MARE LIBERUM + + +I + + You dare to say with perjured lips, + "We fight to make the ocean free"? + _You_, whose black trail of butchered ships + Bestrews the bed of every sea + Where German submarines have wrought + Their horrors! Have you never thought,-- + What you call freedom, men call piracy! + + +II + + Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, + Where you have murdered, cry you down; + And seamen whom you would not save, + Weave now in weed-grown depths a crown + Of shame for your imperious head, + A dark memorial of the dead + Women and children whom you sent to drown. + + +III + + Nay, not till thieves are set to guard + The gold, and corsairs called to keep + O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward, + And wolves to herd the helpless sheep, + Shall men and women look to thee, + Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, + To safeguard law and freedom on the deep! + + +IV + + In nobler breeds we put our trust: + The nations in whose sacred lore + The "Ought" stands out above the "Must," + And honor rules in peace and war. + With these we hold in soul and heart, + With these we choose our lot and part, + Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore. + +_London Times_, February 12, 1917. + + + +"LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + + + Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, + The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: + Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand + To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land. + + No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee, + While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea: + The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; + The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all. + + O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains: + The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains; + No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might; + They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty, and smite! + + Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born, + Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn! + Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise, + With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies. + + O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire, + Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire: + For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the warlords cease, + And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace. + +_London Times_, April 12, 1917. + + + +THE OXFORD THRUSHES + +February, 1917 + + + I never thought again to hear + The Oxford thrushes singing clear, + Amid the February rain, + Their sweet, indomitable strain. + + A wintry vapor lightly spreads + Among the trees, and round the beds + Where daffodil and jonquil sleep; + Only the snowdrop wakes to weep. + + It is not springtime yet. Alas, + What dark, tempestuous days must pass, + Till England's trial by battle cease, + And summer comes again with peace. + + The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, + Where Learning in untroubled hours + Held her high court, serene in fame, + Are lovely still, yet not the same. + + The novices in fluttering gown + No longer fill the ancient town; + But fighting men in khaki drest, + And in the Schools the wounded rest. + + Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies + Full many a son of Oxford lies, + And whispers from his warrior grave, + "I died to keep the faith you gave." + + The mother mourns, but does not fail, + Her courage and her love prevail + O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears + The promise of triumphant years. + + Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain + Your sweet indomitable strain. + Ye bring a word from God on high + And voices in our hearts reply. + + + +HOMEWARD BOUND + + + Home, for my heart still calls me; + Home, through the danger zone; + Home, whatever befalls me, + I will sail again to my own! + + Wolves of the sea are hiding + Closely along the way, + Under the water biding + Their moment to rend and slay. + + Black is the eagle that brands them, + Black are their hearts as the nights + Black is the hate that sends them + To murder but not to fight. + + Flower of the German Culture, + Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, + Choose for your emblem the vulture, + Cowardly, cruel, obscene! + + Forth from her sheltered haven + Our peaceful ship glides slow, + Noiseless in flight as a raven, + Gray as a hoodie crow. + + She doubles and turns in her bearing, + Like a twisting plover she goes; + The way of her westward faring + Only the captain knows. + + In a lonely bay concealing + She lingers for days, and slips + At dusk from her covert, stealing + Thro' channels feared by the ships. + + Brave are the men, and steady, + Who guide her over the deep,-- + British mariners, ready + To face the sea-wolf's leap. + + Lord of the winds and waters, + Bring our ship to her mark, + Safe from this game of hide-and-seek + With murderers in the dark! + +On the S.S. _Baltic_, May, 1917. + + + +THE WINDS OF WAR-NEWS + + + The winds of war-news change and veer: + Now westerly and full of cheer, + Now easterly, depressing, sour + With tidings of the Teutons' power. + + But thou, America, whose heart + With brave Allies has taken part, + Be not a weathercock to change + With these wild winds that shift and range. + + Be thou a compass ever true, + Through sullen clouds or skies of blue, + To that great star which rules the night,-- + The star of Liberty and Right. + + Lover of peace, oh set thy soul, + Thy strength, thy wealth, thy conscience whole, + To win the peace thine eyes foresee,-- + The triumph of Democracy. + +December 19, 1917. + + + +RIGHTEOUS WRATH + + + There are many kinds of anger, as many kinds of fire; + And some are fierce and fatal with murderous desire; + And some are mean and craven, revengeful, sullen, slow, + They hurt the man that holds them more than they hurt his foe. + + And yet there is an anger that purifies the heart: + The anger of the better against the baser part, + Against the false and wicked, against the tyrant's sword, + Against the enemies of love, and all that hate the Lord. + + O cleansing indignation, O flame of righteous wrath, + Give me a soul to feel thee and follow in thy path! + Save me from selfish virtue, arm me for fearless fight, + And give me strength to carry on, a soldier of the Right! + +January, 1918. + + + +THE PEACEFUL WARRIOR + + + I have no joy in strife, + Peace is my great desire; + Yet God forbid I lose my life + Through fear to face the fire. + + A peaceful man must fight + For that which peace demands,-- + Freedom and faith, honor and right, + Defend with heart and hands. + + Farewell, my friendly books; + Farewell, ye woods and streams; + The fate that calls me forward looks + To a duty beyond dreams. + + Oh, better to be dead + With a face turned to the sky, + Than live beneath a slavish dread + And serve a giant lie. + + Stand up, my heart, and strive + For the things most dear to thee! + Why should we care to be alive + Unless the world is free? + +May, 1918. + + + +FROM GLORY UNTO GLORY + +AMERICAN FLAG SONG + + +1776 + + O dark the night and dim the day + When first our flag arose; + It fluttered bravely in the fray + To meet o'erwhelming foes. + Our fathers saw the splendor shine, + They dared and suffered all; + They won our freedom by the sign-- + The holy sign, the radiant sign-- + Of the stars that never fall. + + +_Chorus_ + + All hail to thee, Young Glory! + Among the flags of earth + We'll ne'er forget the story + Of thy heroic birth. + + +1861 + + O wild the later storm that shook + The pillars of the State, + When brother against brother took + The final arms of fate. + But union lived and peace divine + Enfolded brothers all; + The flag floats o'er them with the sign-- + The loyal sign, the equal sign-- + Of the stars that never fall. + + +_Chorus_ + + All hail to thee, Old Glory! + Of thee our heart's desire + Foretells a golden story, + For thou hast come through fire. + + +1917 + + O fiercer than all wars before + That raged on land or sea, + The Giant Robber's world-wide war + For the things that shall not be! + Thy sister banners hold the line; + To thee, dear flag, they call; + And thou hast joined them with the sign-- + The heavenly sign, the victor sign-- + Of the stars that never fall. + + +_Chorus_ + + All hail to thee, New Glory! + We follow thee unfurled + To write the larger story + Of Freedom for the World. + +September 4, 1918. + + + +BRITAIN, FRANCE, AMERICA + + + The rough expanse of democratic sea + Which parts the lands that live by liberty + Is no division; for their hearts are one. + To fight together till their cause is won. + + For land and water let us make our pact, + And seal the solemn word with valiant act: + No continent is firm, no ocean pure, + Until on both the rights of man are sure. + +April, 1917. + + + +THE RED CROSS + + + Sign of the Love Divine + That bends to bear the load + Of all who suffer, all who bleed, + Along life's thorny road: + + Sign of the Heart Humane, + That through the darkest fight + Would bring to wounded friend and foe + A ministry of light: + + O dear and holy sign, + Lead onward like a star! + The armies of the just are thine, + And all we have and are. + +October 20, 1918. + +For the Red Cross Christmas Roll Call. + + + +EASTER ROAD + +1918 + + + Under the cloud of world-wide war, + While earth is drenched with sorrow, + I have no heart for idle merrymaking, + Or for the fashioning of glad raiment. + I will retrace the divine footmarks, + On the Road of the first Easter. + + Down through the valley of utter darkness + Dripping with blood and tears; + Over the hill of the skull, the little hill of great anguish, + The ambuscade of Death. + Into the no-man's-land of Hades + Bearing despatches of hope to spirits in prison, + Mortally stricken and triumphant + Went the faithful Captain of Salvation. + + Then upward, swiftly upward,-- + Victory, liberty, glory, + The feet that were wounded walked in the tranquil garden, + Bathed in dew and the light of deathless dawn. + + O my soul, my comrades, soldiers of freedom, + Follow the pathway of Easter, for there is no other, + Follow it through to peace, yea, follow it fighting. + This Armageddon is not darker than Calvary. + The day will break when the Dragon is vanquished; + He that exalteth himself as God shall be cast down, + And the Lords of war shall fall, + And the long, long terror be ended, + Victory, justice, peace enduring! + They that die in this cause shall live forever, + And they that live shall never die, + They shall rejoice together in the Easter of a new world. + +March 31, 1918. + + + +AMERICA'S WELCOME HOME + + + Oh, gallantly they fared forth in khaki and in blue, + America's crusading host of warriors bold and true; + They battled for the rights of man beside our brave Allies, + And now they're coming home to us with glory in their eyes. + + _Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! + Our hearts are turning home again and there we long to be, + In our beautiful big country beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + + Our boys have seen the Old World as none have seen before. + They know the grisly horror of the German gods of war: + The noble faith of Britain and the hero-heart of France, + The soul of Belgium's fortitude and Italy's romance. + + They bore our country's great word across the rolling sea, + "America swears brotherhood with all the just and free." + They wrote that word victorious on fields of mortal strife, + And many a valiant lad was proud to seal it with his life. + + Oh, welcome home in Heaven's peace, dear spirits of the dead! + And welcome home ye living sons America hath bred! + The lords of war are beaten down, your glorious task is done; + You fought to make the whole world free, and the victory is won. + + _Now it's home again, and home again, our hearts are turning west, + Of all the lands beneath the sun America is best. + We're going home to our own folks, beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + +November 11, 1918. + +A sequel to "America For Me," written in 1909. Page 314. + + + +THE SURRENDER OF THE GERMAN FLEET + + + Ship after ship, and every one with a high-resounding name, + From the robber-nest of Heligoland the German war-fleet came; + Not victory or death they sought, but a rendezvous of shame. + + _Sing out, sing out, + A joyful shout, + Ye lovers of the sea! + The "Kaiser" and the "Kaiserin," + The "König" and the "Prinz," + The potentates of piracy, + Are coming to surrender, + And the ocean shall be free._ + + They never dared the final fate of battle on the blue; + Their sea-wolves murdered merchantmen and mocked the drowning crew; + They stained the wave with martyr-blood,--but we sent our transports + through! + + What flags are these that dumbly droop from the gaff o' the mainmast + tall? + The black of the Kaiser's iron cross, the red of the Empire's fall! + Come down, come down, ye pirate flags. Yea, strike your colors all. + + The Union Jack and the Tricolor and the Starry Flag o' the West + Shall guard the fruit of Freedom's war and the victory confest, + The flags of the brave and just and free shall rule on the ocean's + breast. + + _Sing out, sing out, + A mighty shout, + Ye lovers of the sea! + The "Kaiser" and the "Kaiserin," + The "König" and the "Prinz," + The robber-lords of death and sin, + Have come to their surrender, + And the ocean shall be free!_ + +November 20, 1918. + + + +GOLDEN STARS + + +I + + It was my lot of late to travel far + Through all America's domain, + A willing, gray-haired servitor + Bearing the Fiery Cross of righteous war. + And everywhere, on mountain, vale and plain, + In crowded street and lonely cottage door, + I saw the symbol of the bright blue star. + Millions of stars! Rejoice, dear land, rejoice + That God hath made thee great enough to give + Beneath thy starry flag unfurled + A gift to all the world,-- + Thy living sons that Liberty might live. + + +II + + It seems but yesterday they sallied forth + Boys of the east, the west, the south, the north, + High-hearted, keen, with laughter and with song, + Fearless of lurking danger on the sea, + Eager to fight in Flanders or in France + Against the monstrous German wrong, + And sure of victory! + Brothers in soul with British and with French + They held their ground in many a bloody trench; + And when the swift word came-- + _Advance!_ + Over the top they went through waves of flame,-- + Confident, reckless, irresistible, + Real Americans,-- + Their rush was never stayed + Until the foe fell back, defeated and dismayed. + O land that bore them, write upon thy roll + Of battles won + To liberate the human soul, + Château Thierry and Saint Mihiel + And the fierce agony of the Argonne; + Yea, count among thy little rivers, dear + Because of friends whose feet have trodden there, + The Marne, the Meuse, and the Moselle. + + +III + + Now the vile sword + In Potsdam forged and bathed in hell, + Is beaten down, the victory given + To the sword forged in faith and bathed in heaven. + Now home again our heroes come: + Oh, welcome them with bugle and with drum, + Ring bells, blow whistles, make a joyful noise + Unto the Lord, + And welcome home our blue-star boys, + Whose manhood has made known + To all the world America, + Unselfish, brave and free, the Great Republic, + Who lives not to herself alone. + + +IV + + But many a lad we hold + Dear in our heart of hearts + Is missing from the home-returning host. + Ah, say not they are lost, + For they have found and given their life + In sacrificial strife: + Their service stars have changed from blue to gold! + That sudden rapture took them far away, + Yet are they here with us to-day, + Even as the heavenly stars we cannot see + Through the bright veil of sunlight, + Shed their influence still + On our vexed life, and promise peace + From God to all men of good will. + + +V + + What wreaths shall we entwine + For our dear boys to deck their holy shrine? + Mountain-laurel, morning-glory, + Goldenrod and asters blue, + Purple loosestrife, prince's-pine, + Wild-azalea, meadow-rue, + Nodding-lilies, columbine,-- + All the native blooms that grew + In these fresh woods and pastures new, + Wherein they loved to ramble and to play. + Bring no exotic flowers: + America was in their hearts, + And they are ours + For ever and a day. + + +VI + + O happy warriors, forgive the tear + Falling from eyes that miss you: + Forgive the word of grief from mother-lips + That ne'er on earth shall kiss you; + Hear only what our hearts would have you hear,-- + Glory and praise and gratitude and pride + From the dear country in whose cause you died. + Now you have run your race and won your prize, + Old age shall never burden you, the fears + And conflicts that beset our lingering years + Shall never vex your souls in Paradise. + Immortal, young, and crowned with victory, + From life's long battle you have found release. + And He who died for all on Calvary + Has welcomed you, brave soldiers of the cross, + Into eternal Peace. + + +VII + + Come, let us gird our loins and lift our load, + Companions who are left on life's rough road, + And bravely take the way that we must tread + To keep true faith with our beloved dead. + To conquer war they dared their lives to give, + To safeguard peace our hearts must learn to live. + Help us, dear God, our forward faith to hold! + We want a better world than that of old. + Lead us on paths of high endeavor, + Toiling upward, climbing ever, + Ready to suffer for the right, + Until at last we gain a loftier height, + More worthy to behold + Our guiding stars, our hero-stars of gold. + +Ode for the Memorial Service, +Princeton University, December 15, 1918. + + + +IN THE BLUE HEAVEN + + + In the blue heaven the clouds will come and go, + Scudding before the gale, or drifting slow + As galleons becalmed in Sundown Bay: + And through the air the birds will wing their way + Soaring to far-off heights, or flapping low, + Or darting like an arrow from the bow; + And when the twilight comes the stars will show, + One after one, their tranquil bright array + In the blue heaven. + + But ye who fearless flew to meet the foe, + Eagles of freedom,--nevermore, we know, + Shall we behold you floating far away. + Yet clouds and birds and every starry ray + Will draw our heart to where your spirits glow + In the blue Heaven. + +For the American Aviators who died in the war. + +March, 1919. + + + +A SHRINE IN THE PANTHEON + +FOR THE UNNAMED SOLDIERS WHO DIED IN FRANCE + + +Universal approval has been accorded the proposal made in the +French Chamber that the ashes of an unnamed French soldier, +fallen for his country, shall be removed with solemn ceremony to +the Pantheon. In this way it is intended to honor by a symbolic +ceremony the memory of all who lie in unmarked graves. + + + Here the great heart of France, + Victor in noble strife, + Doth consecrate a Poilu's tomb + To those who saved her life! + + Brave son without a name, + Your country calls you home, + To rest among her heirs of fame, + Beneath the Pantheon's dome! + + Now from the height of Heaven, + The souls of heroes look; + Their names, ungraven on this stone, + Are written in God's book. + + Women of France, who mourn + Your dead in unmarked ground, + Come hither! Here the man you loved + In the heart of France is found! + + + + +IN PRAISE OF POETS + + + +MOTHER EARTH + + + Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed, + Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the + field, + Mother of all the manifold forms of life, deep-bosomed, patient, + impassive, + Silent brooder and nurse of lyrical joys and sorrows! + Out of thee, yea, surely out of the fertile depth below thy breast, + Issued in some strange way, thou lying motionless, voiceless, + All these songs of nature, rhythmical, passionate, yearning. + Coming in music from earth, but not unto earth returning. + + Dust are the blood-red hearts that beat in time to these measures, + Thou hast taken them back to thyself, secretly, irresistibly + Drawing the crimson currents of life down, down, down + Deep into thy bosom again, as a river is lost in the sand. + But the souls of the singers have entered into the songs that revealed + them,-- + Passionate songs, immortal songs of joy and grief and love and longing, + Floating from heart to heart of thy children, they echo above thee: + Do they not utter thy heart, the voices of those that love thee? + + Long hadst thou lain like a queen transformed by some old enchantment + Into an alien shape, mysterious, beautiful, speechless, + Knowing not who thou wert, till the touch of thy Lord and Lover + Wakened the man-child within thee to tell thy secret. + All of thy flowers and birds and forests and flowing waters + Are but the rhythmical forms to reveal the life of the spirit; + Thou thyself, earth-mother, in mountain and meadow and ocean, + Holdest the poem of God, eternal thought and emotion. + +December, 1905. + + + +MILTON + + +I + + Lover of beauty, walking on the height + Of pure philosophy and tranquil song; + Born to behold the visions that belong + To those who dwell in melody and light; + Milton, thou spirit delicate and bright! + What drew thee down to join the Roundhead throng + Of iron-sided warriors, rude and strong, + Fighting for freedom in a world half night? + + Lover of Liberty at heart wast thou, + Above all beauty bright, all music clear: + To thee she bared her bosom and her brow, + Breathing her virgin promise in thine ear, + And bound thee to her with a double vow,-- + Exquisite Puritan, grave Cavalier! + + +II + + The cause, the cause for which thy soul resigned + Her singing robes to battle on the plain, + Was won, O poet, and was lost again; + And lost the labour of thy lonely mind + On weary tasks of prose. What wilt thou find + To comfort thee for all the toil and pain? + What solace, now thy sacrifice is vain + And thou art left forsaken, poor, and blind? + + Like organ-music comes the deep reply: + "The cause of truth looks lost, but shall be won. + For God hath given to mine inward eye + Vision of England soaring to the sun. + And granted me great peace before I die, + In thoughts of lowly duty bravely done." + + +III + + O bend again above thine organ-board, + Thou blind old poet longing for repose! + Thy Master claims thy service not with those + Who only stand and wait for His reward; + He pours the heavenly gift of song restored + Into thy breast, and bids thee nobly close + A noble life, with poetry that flows + In mighty music of the major chord. + + Where hast thou learned this deep, majestic strain, + Surpassing all thy youthful lyric grace, + To sing of Paradise? Ah, not in vain + The griefs that won at Dante's side thy place, + And made thee, Milton, by thy years of pain, + The loftiest poet of the English race! + +1908. + + + +WORDSWORTH + + + Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls + Among the mountains, and thy song is fed + By living springs far up the watershed; + No whirling flood nor parching drought controls + The crystal current: even on the shoals + It murmurs clear and sweet; and when its bed + Deepens below mysterious cliffs of dread, + Thy voice of peace grows deeper in our souls. + + But thou in youth hast known the breaking stress + Of passion, and hast trod despair's dry ground + Beneath black thoughts that wither and destroy. + Ah, wanderer, led by human tenderness + Home to the heart of Nature, thou hast found + The hidden Fountain of Recovered Joy. + +October, 1906. + + + +KEATS + + + The melancholy gift Aurora gained + From Jove, that her sad lover should not see + The face of death, no goddess asked for thee, + My Keats! But when the scarlet blood-drop stained + Thy pillow, thou didst read the fate ordained,-- + Brief life, wild love, a flight of poesy! + And then,--a shadow fell on Italy: + Thy star went down before its brightness waned. + + Yet thou hast won the gift Tithonus missed: + Never to feel the pain of growing old, + Nor lose the blissful sight of beauty's truth, + But with the ardent lips Urania kissed + To breathe thy song, and, ere thy heart grew cold, + Become the Poet of Immortal Youth. + +August, 1906. + + + +SHELLEY + + + Knight-errant of the Never-ending Quest, + And Minstrel of the Unfulfilled Desire; + For ever tuning thy frail earthly lyre + To some unearthly music, and possessed + With painful passionate longing to invest + The golden dream of Love's immortal fire + With mortal robes of beautiful attire, + And fold perfection to thy throbbing breast! + + What wonder, Shelley, that the restless wave + Should claim thee and the leaping flame consume + Thy drifted form on Viareggio's beach? + These were thine elements,--thy fitting grave. + But still thy soul rides on with fiery plume, + Thy wild song rings in ocean's yearning speech! + +August, 1906. + + + +ROBERT BROWNING + + + How blind the toil that burrows like the mole, + In winding graveyard pathways underground, + For Browning's lineage! What if men have found + Poor footmen or rich merchants on the roll + Of his forbears? Did they beget his soul? + Nay, for he came of ancestry renowned + Through all the world,--the poets laurel-crowned + With wreaths from which the autumn takes no toll. + + The blazons on his coat-of-arms are these: + The flaming sign of Shelley's heart on fire, + The golden globe of Shakespeare's human stage, + The staff and scrip of Chaucer's pilgrimage, + The rose of Dante's deep, divine desire, + The tragic mask of wise Euripides. + +November, 1906. + + + +TENNYSON + +In Lucem Transitus, October, 1892 + + + From the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendours of the moon, + To the singing tides of heaven, and the light more clear than noon, + Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God in tune. + + Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, true to art; + Lover of Immortal Love, uplifter of the human heart; + Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, if thou depart? + + Silence here--for love is silent, gazing on the lessening sail; + Silence here--for grief is voiceless when the mighty minstrels fail; + Silence here--but far beyond us, many voices crying, Hail! + + + +"IN MEMORIAM" + + + The record of a faith sublime, + And hope, through clouds, far-off discerned; + The incense of a love that burned + Through pain and doubt defying Time: + + The story of a soul at strife + That learned at last to kiss the rod, + And passed through sorrow up to God, + From living to a higher life: + + A light that gleams across the wave + Of darkness, down the rolling years, + Piercing the heavy mist of tears-- + A rainbow shining o'er a grave. + + + +VICTOR HUGO + +1802-1902 + + + Heart of France for a hundred years, + Passionate, sensitive, proud, and strong, + Quick to throb with her hopes and fears, + Fierce to flame with her sense of wrong! + You, who hailed with a morning song + Dream-light gilding a throne of old: + You, who turned when the dream grew cold, + Singing still, to the light that shone + Pure from Liberty's ancient throne, + Over the human throng! + You, who dared in the dark eclipse,-- + When the pygmy heir of a giant name + Dimmed the face of the land with shame,-- + Speak the truth with indignant lips, + Call him little whom men called great, + Scoff at him, scorn him, deny him, + Point to the blood on his robe of state, + Fling back his bribes and defy him! + + You, who fronted the waves of fate + As you faced the sea from your island home, + Exiled, yet with a soul elate, + Sending songs o'er the rolling foam, + Bidding the heart of man to wait + For the day when all should see + Floods of wrath from the frowning skies + Fall on an Empire founded in lies, + And France again be free! + You, who came in the Terrible Year + Swiftly back to your broken land, + Now to your heart a thousand times more dear,-- + Prayed for her, sung to her, fought for her, + Patiently, fervently wrought for her, + Till once again, + After the storm of fear and pain, + High in the heavens the star of France stood clear! + + You, who knew that a man must take + Good and ill with a steadfast soul, + Holding fast, while the billows roll + Over his head, to the things that make + Life worth living for great and small, + Honour and pity and truth, + The heart and the hope of youth, + And the good God over all! + You, to whom work was rest, + Dauntless Toiler of the Sea, + Following ever the joyful quest + Of beauty on the shores of old Romance, + Bard of the poor of France, + And warrior-priest of world-wide charity! + You who loved little children best + Of all the poets that ever sung, + Great heart, golden heart, + Old, and yet ever young, + Minstrel of liberty, + Lover of all free, winged things, + Now at last you are free,-- + Your soul has its wings! + Heart of France for a hundred years, + Floating far in the light that never fails you, + Over the turmoil of mortal hopes and fears + Victor, forever victor, the whole world hails you! + +March, 1902. + + + +LONGFELLOW + + + In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour and riches and + confusion, + Where there were many running to and fro, and shouting, and striving + together, + In the midst of the hurry and the troubled noise, I heard the voice of + one singing. + + "What are you doing there, O man, singing quietly amid all this tumult? + This is the time for new inventions, mighty shoutings, and blowings of + the trumpet." + But he answered, "I am only shepherding my sheep with music." + + So he went along his chosen way, keeping his little flock around him; + And he paused to listen, now and then, beside the antique fountains, + Where the faces of forgotten gods were refreshed with musically falling + waters; + + Or he sat for a while at the blacksmith's door, and heard the cling-clang + of the anvils; + Or he rested beneath old steeples full of bells, that showered their + chimes upon him; + Or he walked along the border of the sea, drinking in the long roar of + the billows; + + Or he sunned himself in the pine-scented shipyard, amid the tattoo of + the mallets; + Or he leaned on the rail of the bridge, letting his thoughts flow with + the whispering river; + He hearkened also to ancient tales, and made them young again with his + singing. + + Then a flaming arrow of death fell on his flock, and pierced the heart + of his dearest! + Silent the music now, as the shepherd entered the mystical temple of + sorrow: + Long he tarried in darkness there: but when he came out he was singing. + + And I saw the faces of men and women and children silently turning toward + him; + The youth setting out on the journey of life, and the old man waiting + beside the last mile-stone; + The toiler sweating beneath his load; and the happy mother rocking her + cradle; + + The lonely sailor on far-off seas; and the gray-minded scholar in his + book-room; + The mill-hand bound to a clacking machine; and the hunter in the forest; + And the solitary soul hiding friendless in the wilderness of the city; + + Many human faces, full of care and longing, were drawn irresistibly + toward him, + By the charm of something known to every heart, yet very strange and + lovely, + And at the sound of his singing wonderfully all their faces were + lightened. + + "Why do you listen, O you people, to this old and world-worn music? + This is not for you, in the splendour of a new age, in the democratic + triumph! + Listen to the clashing cymbals, the big drums, the brazen trumpets of + your poets." + + But the people made no answer, following in their hearts the simpler + music: + For it seemed to them, noise-weary, nothing could be better worth the + hearing + Than the melodies which brought sweet order into life's confusion. + + So the shepherd sang his way along, until he came unto a mountain: + And I know not surely whether the mountain was called Parnassus, + But he climbed it out of sight, and still I heard the voice of one + singing. + +January, 1907. + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH + + +I + +BIRTHDAY VERSES, 1906 + + Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days + Have brought another _Festa_ round to you, + You can't refuse a loving-cup of praise + From friends the fleeting years have bound to you. + + Here come your Marjorie Daw, your dear Bad Boy, + Prudence, and Judith the Bethulian, + And many more, to wish you birthday joy, + And sunny hours, and sky cerulean! + + Your children all, they hurry to your den, + With wreaths of honour they have won for you, + To merry-make your threescore years and ten. + You, old? Why, life has just begun for you! + + There's many a reader whom your silver songs + And crystal stories cheer in loneliness. + What though the newer writers come in throngs? + You're sure to keep your charm of only-ness. + + You do your work with careful, loving touch,-- + An artist to the very core of you,-- + You know the magic spell of "not-too-much": + We read,--and wish that there was more of you. + + And more there is: for while we love your books + Because their subtle skill is part of you; + We love _you_ better, for our friendship looks + Behind them to the human heart of you. + + +II + +MEMORIAL SONNET, 1908 + + This is the house where little Aldrich read + The early pages of Life's wonder-book + With boyish pleasure: in this ingle-nook + He watched the drift-wood fire of Fancy shed + Bright colour on the pictures blue and red: + Boy-like he skipped the longer words, and took + His happy way, with searching, dreamful look + Among the deeper things more simply said. + + Then, came his turn to write: and still the flame + Of Fancy played through all the tales he told, + And still he won the laurelled poet's fame + With simple words wrought into rhymes of gold. + Look, here's the face to which this house is frame,-- + A man too wise to let his heart grow old! + + + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + +(Read at His Funeral, January 21, 1908) + + + Oh, quick to feel the lightest touch + Of beauty or of truth, + Rich in the thoughtfulness of age, + The hopefulness of youth, + The courage of the gentle heart, + The wisdom of the pure, + The strength of finely tempered souls + To labour and endure! + + The blue of springtime in your eyes + Was never quenched by pain; + And winter brought your head the crown + Of snow without a stain. + The poet's mind, the prince's heart, + You kept until the end, + Nor ever faltered in your work, + Nor ever failed a friend. + + You followed, through the quest of life, + The light that shines above + The tumult and the toil of men, + And shows us what to love. + Right loyal to the best you knew, + Reality or dream, + You ran the race, you fought the fight, + A follower of the Gleam. + + We lay upon your folded hands + The wreath of asphodel; + We speak above your peaceful face + The tender word _Farewell!_ + For well you fare, in God's good care, + Somewhere within the blue, + And know, to-day, your dearest dreams + Are true,--and true,--and true! + + + +TO JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + +ON HIS "BOOK OF JOYOUS CHILDREN" + + + Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers; + Joyous children delight to play there; + Weary men find rest in its bowers, + Watching the lingering light of day there. + + Old-time tunes and young love-laughter + Ripple and run among the roses; + Memory's echoes, murmuring after, + Fill the dusk when the long day closes. + + Simple songs with a cadence olden-- + These you learned in the Forest of Arden: + Friendly flowers with hearts all golden-- + These you borrowed from Eden's garden. + + This is the reason why all men love you; + Truth to life is the finest art: + Other poets may soar above you-- + You keep close to the human heart. + +December, 1903. + + + +RICHARD WATSON GILDER + +IN MEMORIAM + + + Soul of a soldier in a poet's frame, + Heart of a hero in a body frail; + Thine was the courage clear that did not quail + Before the giant champions of shame + Who wrought dishonour to the city's name; + And thine the vision of the Holy Grail + Of Love, revealed through Music's lucid veil, + Filling thy life with heavenly song and flame. + + Pure was the light that lit thy glowing eye, + And strong the faith that held thy simple creed. + Ah, poet, patriot, friend, to serve our need + Thou leavest two great gifts that will not die: + Above the city's noise, thy lyric cry,-- + Amid the city's strife, thy noble deed. + +November, 1909. + + + +THE VALLEY OF VAIN VERSES + + + The grief that is but feigning, + And weeps melodious tears + Of delicate complaining + From self-indulgent years; + The mirth that is but madness, + And has no inward gladness + Beneath its laughter straining, + To capture thoughtless ears; + + The love that is but passion + Of amber-scented lust; + The doubt that is but fashion; + The faith that has no trust; + These Thamyris disperses, + In the Valley of Vain Verses + Below the Mount Parnassian,-- + And they crumble into dust. + + + + +MUSIC + + + +MUSIC + + +I + +PRELUDE + + +1 + + Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that wild night + When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight, + She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart, + Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn + Into a single cry, and thou wast born! + Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief; + Invisible enchantress of the heart; + Mistress of charms that bring relief + To sorrow, and to joy impart + A heavenly tone that keeps it undefined,-- + Thou art the child + Of Amor, and by right divine + A throne of love is thine, + Thou flower-folded, golden-girdled, star-crowned Queen, + Whose bridal beauty mortal eyes have never seen! + + +2 + + Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps, + While peace and joy lie hidden in its deeps, + Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll + In healing murmurs round the weary soul. + Ah, when wilt thou draw near, + Thou messenger of mercy robed in song? + My lonely heart has listened for thee long; + And now I seem to hear + Across the crowded market-place of life, + Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear + Above unmeaning noises and unruly strife. + In quiet cadence, sweet and slow, + Serenely pacing to and fro, + Thy far-off steps are magical and dear,-- + Ah, turn this way, come close and speak to me! + From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free, + And bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee. + + +II + +INVOCATION + + Where wilt thou lead me first? + In what still region + Of thy domain, + Whose provinces are legion, + Wilt thou restore me to myself again, + And quench my heart's long thirst? + I pray thee lay thy golden girdle down, + And put away thy starry crown: + For one dear restful hour + Assume a state more mild. + Clad only in thy blossom-broidered gown + That breathes familiar scent of many a flower, + Take the low path that leads through pastures green; + And though thou art a Queen, + Be Rosamund awhile, and in thy bower, + By tranquil love and simple joy beguiled, + Sing to my soul, as mother to her child. + + +III + +PLAY SONG + + O lead me by the hand, + And let my heart have rest, + And bring me back to childhood land, + To find again the long-lost band + Of playmates blithe and blest. + + Some quaint, old-fashioned air, + That all the children knew, + Shall run before us everywhere, + Like a little maid with flying hair, + To guide the merry crew. + + Along the garden ways + We chase the light-foot tune, + And in and out the flowery maze, + With eager haste and fond delays, + In pleasant paths of June. + + For us the fields are new, + For us the woods are rife + With fairy secrets, deep and true, + And heaven is but a tent of blue + Above the game of life. + + The world is far away: + The fever and the fret, + And all that makes the heart grow gray, + Is out of sight and far away, + Dear Music, while I hear thee play + That olden, golden roundelay, + "Remember and forget!" + + +IV + +SLEEP SONG + + Forget, forget! + The tide of life is turning; + The waves of light ebb slowly down the west: + Along the edge of dark some stars are burning + To guide thy spirit safely to an isle of rest. + A little rocking on the tranquil deep + Of song, to soothe thy yearning, + A little slumber and a little sleep, + And so, forget, forget! + + Forget, forget,-- + The day was long in pleasure; + Its echoes die away across the hill; + Now let thy heart beat time to their slow measure, + That swells, and sinks, and faints, and falls, till all is still. + Then, like a weary child that loves to keep + Locked in its arms some treasure, + Thy soul in calm content shall fall asleep, + And so forget, forget. + + Forget, forget,-- + And if thou hast been weeping, + Let go the thoughts that bind thee to thy grief: + Lie still, and watch the singing angels, reaping + The golden harvest of thy sorrow, sheaf by sheaf; + Or count thy joys like flocks of snow-white sheep + That one by one come creeping + Into the quiet fold, until thou sleep, + And so forget, forget! + + Forget, forget,-- + Thou art a child and knowest + So little of thy life! But music tells + The secret of the world through which thou goest + To work with morning song, to rest with evening bells: + Life is in tune with harmony so deep + That when the notes are lowest + Thou still canst lay thee down in peace and sleep, + For God will not forget. + + +V + +HUNTING SONG + + Out of the garden of playtime, out of the bower of rest, + Fain would I follow at daytime, music that calls to a quest. + Hark, how the galloping measure + Quickens the pulses of pleasure; + Gaily saluting the morn + With the long, clear note of the hunting-horn, + Echoing up from the valley, + Over the mountain side,-- + Rally, you hunters, rally, + Rally, and ride! + + Drink of the magical potion music has mixed with her wine, + Full of the madness of motion, joyful, exultant, divine! + Leave all your troubles behind you, + Ride where they never can find you, + Into the gladness of morn, + With the long, clear note of the hunting-horn, + Swiftly o'er hillock and hollow, + Sweeping along with the wind,-- + Follow, you hunters, follow, + Follow and find! + + What will you reach with your riding? What is the charm of the chase? + Just the delight and the striding swing of the jubilant pace. + Danger is sweet when you front her,-- + In at the death, every hunter! + Now on the breeze the mort is borne + In the long, clear note of the hunting-horn, + Winding merrily, over and over,-- + Come, come, come! + Home again, Ranger! home again, Rover! + Turn again, home! + + +VI + +DANCE-MUSIC + + +1 + + Now let the sleep-tune blend with the play-tune, + Weaving the mystical spell of the dance; + Lighten the deep tune, soften the gay tune, + Mingle a tempo that turns in a trance. + Half of it sighing, half of it smiling, + Smoothly it swings, with a triplicate beat; + Calling, replying, yearning, beguiling, + Wooing the heart and bewitching the feet. + Every drop of blood + Rises with the flood, + Rocking on the waves of the strain; + Youth and beauty glide + Turning with the tide-- + Music making one out of twain, + Bearing them away, and away, and away, + Like a tone and its terce-- + Till the chord dissolves, and the dancers stay, + And reverse. + + Violins leading, take up the measure, + Turn with the tune again,--clarinets clear + Answer their pleading,--harps full of pleasure + Sprinkle their silver like light on the mere. + Semiquaver notes, + Merry little motes, + Tangled in the haze + Of the lamp's golden rays, + Quiver everywhere + In the air, + Like a spray,-- + Till the fuller stream of the might of the tune, + Gliding like a dream in the light of the moon, + Bears them all away, and away, and away, + Floating in the trance of the dance. + + +2 + + Then begins a measure stately, + Languid, slow, serene; + All the dancers move sedately, + Stepping leisurely and straitly, + With a courtly mien; + Crossing hands and changing places, + Bowing low between, + While the minuet inlaces + Waving arms and woven paces,-- + Glittering damaskeen. + Where is she whose form is folden + In its royal sheen? + From our longing eyes withholden + By her mystic girdle golden, + Beauty sought but never seen, + Music walks the maze, a queen. + + +VII + +WAR-MUSIC + + Break off! Dance no more! + Danger is at the door. + Music is in arms. + To signal war's alarms. + + Hark, a sudden trumpet calling + Over the hill! + Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? + What is your will? + + Men, men, men! + Men who are ready to fight + For their country's life, and the right + Of a liberty-loving land to be + Free, free, free! + Free from a tyrant's chain, + Free from dishonor's stain, + Free to guard and maintain + All that her fathers fought for, + All that her sons have wrought for, + Resolute, brave, and free! + + Call again, trumpet, call again, + Call up the men! + + Do you hear the storm of cheers + Mingled with the women's tears + And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet? + Do you hear the throbbing drum + As the hosts of battle come + Keeping time, time, time to its beat? + O Music give a song + To make their spirit strong + For the fury of the tempest they must meet. + + The hoarse roar + Of the monster guns; + And the sharp bark + Of the lesser guns; + The whine of the shells, + The rifles' clatter + Where the bullets patter, + The rattle, rattle, rattle + Of the mitrailleuse in battle, + And the yells + Of the men who charge through hells + Where the poison gas descends, + And the bursting shrapnel rends + Limb from limb + In the dim + Chaos and clamor of the strife + Where no man thinks of his life + But only of fighting through, + Blindly fighting through, through! + + 'Tis done + At last! + The victory won, + The dissonance of warfare past! + + O Music mourn the dead + Whose loyal blood was shed, + And sound the taps for every hero slain; + Then lead into the song + That made their spirit strong, + And tell the world they did not die in vain. + + Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn, + The invincible flag that our fathers defended; + And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have sworn, + That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended. + Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord + Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's horde, + But the banners of Liberty proudly shall wave + O'er the _world_ of the free and the lands of the brave. + +May, 1916. + + +VIII + +THE SYMPHONY + + Music, they do thee wrong who say thine art + Is only to enchant the sense. + For every timid motion of the heart, + And every passion too intense + To bear the chain of the imperfect word, + And every tremulous longing, stirred + By spirit winds that come we know not whence + And go we know not where, + And every inarticulate prayer + Beating about the depths of pain or bliss, + Like some bewildered bird + That seeks its nest but knows not where it is, + And every dream that haunts, with dim delight, + The drowsy hour between the day and night, + The wakeful hour between the night and day,-- + Imprisoned, waits for thee, + Impatient, yearns for thee, + The queen who comes to set the captive free! + Thou lendest wings to grief to fly away, + And wings to joy to reach a heavenly height; + And every dumb desire that storms within the breast + Thou leadest forth to sob or sing itself to rest. + + All these are thine, and therefore love is thine. + For love is joy and grief, + And trembling doubt, and certain-sure belief, + And fear, and hope, and longing unexpressed, + In pain most human, and in rapture brief + Almost divine. + Love would possess, yet deepens when denied; + And love would give, yet hungers to receive; + Love like a prince his triumph would achieve; + And like a miser in the dark his joys would hide. + Love is most bold, + He leads his dreams like armèd men in line; + Yet when the siege is set, and he must speak, + Calling the fortress to resign + Its treasure, valiant love grows weak, + And hardly dares his purpose to unfold. + Less with his faltering lips than with his eyes + He claims the longed-for prize: + Love fain would tell it all, yet leaves the best untold. + But thou shalt speak for love. Yea, thou shalt teach + The mystery of measured tone, + The Pentecostal speech + That every listener heareth as his own. + For on thy head the cloven tongues of fire,-- + Diminished chords that quiver with desire, + And major chords that glow with perfect peace,-- + Have fallen from above; + And thou canst give release + In music to the burdened heart of love. + + Sound with the 'cellos' pleading, passionate strain + The yearning theme, and let the flute reply + In placid melody, while violins complain, + And sob, and sigh, + With muted string; + Then let the oboe half-reluctant sing + Of bliss that trembles on the verge of pain, + While 'cellos plead and plead again, + With throbbing notes delayed, that would impart + To every urgent tone the beating of the heart. + So runs the andante, making plain + The hopes and fears of love without a word. + Then comes the adagio, with a yielding theme + Through which the violas flow soft as in a dream, + While horns and mild bassoons are heard + In tender tune, that seems to float + Like an enchanted boat + Upon the downward-gliding stream, + Toward the allegro's wide, bright sea + Of dancing, glittering, blending tone, + Where every instrument is sounding free, + And harps like wedding-chimes are rung, and trumpets blown + Around the barque of love + That rides, with smiling skies above, + A royal galley, many-oared, + Into the happy harbour of the perfect chord. + + +IX + +IRIS + + Light to the eye and Music to the ear,-- + These are the builders of the bridge that springs + From earth's dim shore of half-remembered things + To reach the heavenly sphere + Where nothing silent is and nothing dark. + So when I see the rainbow's arc + Spanning the showery sky, far-off I hear + Music, and every colour sings: + And while the symphony builds up its round + Full sweep of architectural harmony + Above the tide of Time, far, far away I see + A bow of colour in the bow of sound. + Red as the dawn the trumpet rings; + Blue as the sky, the choir of strings + Darkens in double-bass to ocean's hue, + Rises in violins to noon-tide's blue, + With threads of quivering light shot through and through; + Green as the mantle that the summer flings + Around the world, the pastoral reeds in tune + Embroider melodies of May and June. + Purer than gold, + Yea, thrice-refinèd gold, + And richer than the treasures of the mine, + Floods of the human voice divine + Along the arch in choral song are rolled. + So bends the bow complete: + And radiant rapture flows + Across the bridge, so full, so strong, so sweet, + That the uplifted spirit hardly knows + Whether the Music-Light that glows + Within the arch of tones and colours seven, + Is sunset-peace of earth or sunrise-joy of Heaven. + + +X + +SEA AND SHORE + + Music, I yield to thee + As swimmer to the sea, + I give my spirit to the flood of song! + Bear me upon thy breast + In rapture and at rest, + Bathe me in pure delight and make me strong; + From strife and struggle bring release, + And draw the waves of passion into tides of peace. + + Remembered songs most dear + In living songs I hear, + While blending voices gently swing and sway, + In melodies of love, + Whose mighty currents move + With singing near and singing far away; + Sweet in the glow of morning light, + And sweeter still across the starlit gulf of night. + + Music, in thee we float, + And lose the lonely note + Of self in thy celestial-ordered strain, + Until at last we find + The life to love resigned + In harmony of joy restored again; + And songs that cheered our mortal days + Break on the shore of light in endless hymns of praise. + +December, 1901--May, 1903--May, 1916. + + + +MASTER OF MUSIC + +(In memory of Theodore Thomas, 1905) + + + Glory architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard, + Living forever in temple and picture and statue and song,-- + Look how the world with the lights that they lit is illumined and + starred; + Brief was the flame of their life, but the lamps of their art burn + long! + + Where is the Master of Music, and how has he vanished away? + Where is the work that he wrought with his wonderful art in the air? + Gone,--it is gone like the glow on the cloud at the close of the day! + The Master has finished his work and the glory of music is--where? + + Once, at the wave of his wand, all the billows of musical sound + Followed his will, as the sea was ruled by the prophet of old: + Now that his hand is relaxed, and his rod has dropped to the ground, + Silent and dark are the shores where the marvellous harmonies rolled! + + Nay, but not silent the hearts that were filled by that life-giving sea; + Deeper and purer forever the tides of their being will roll, + Grateful and joyful, O Master, because they have listened to thee; + The glory of music endures in the depths of the human soul. + + + +THE PIPES O' PAN + + + Great Nature had a million words, + In tongues of trees and songs of birds, + But none to breathe the heart of man, + Till Music filled the pipes o' Pan. + +1909. + + + +TO A YOUNG GIRL SINGING + + + Oh, what do you know of the song, my dear, + And how have you made it your own? + You have caught the turn of the melody clear, + And you give it again with a golden tone, + Till the wonder-word and the wedded note + Are flowing out of your beautiful throat + With a liquid charm for every ear: + And they talk of your art,--but for you alone + The song is a thing, unheard, unknown; + You only have learned it by rote. + + But when you have lived for awhile, my dear, + I think you will learn it anew! + For a joy will come, or a grief, or a fear, + That will alter the look of the world for you; + And the lyric you learned as a bit of art, + Will wake to life as a wonderful part + Of the love you feel so deep and true; + And the thrill of a laugh or the throb of a tear, + Will come with your song to all who hear; + For then you will know it by heart. + +April, 1911. + + + +THE OLD FLUTE + + + The time will come when I no more can play + This polished flute: the stops will not obey + My gnarled fingers; and the air it weaves + In modulations, like a vine with leaves + Climbing around the tower of song, will die + In rustling autumn rhythms, confused and dry. + My shortened breath no more will freely fill + This magic reed with melody at will; + My stiffened lips will try and try in vain + To wake the liquid, leaping, dancing strain; + The heavy notes will falter, wheeze, and faint, + Or mock my ear with shrillness of complaint. + + Then let me hang this faithful friend of mine + Upon the trunk of some old, sacred pine, + And sit beneath the green protecting boughs + To hear the viewless wind, that sings and soughs + Above me, play its wild, aerial lute, + And draw a ghost of music from my flute! + + So will I thank the gods; and most of all + The Delian Apollo, whom men call + The mighty master of immortal sound,-- + Lord of the billows in their chanting round, + Lord of the winds that fill the wood with sighs, + Lord of the echoes and their sweet replies, + Lord of the little people of the air + That sprinkle drops of music everywhere, + Lord of the sea of melody that laves + The universe with never silent waves,-- + Him will I thank that this brief breath of mine + Has caught one cadence of the song divine; + And these frail fingers learned to rise and fall + In time with that great tune which throbs thro' all; + And these poor lips have lent a lilt of joy + To songless men whom weary tasks employ! + My life has had its music, and my heart + In harmony has borne a little part, + And now I come with quiet, grateful breast + To Death's dim hall of silence and of rest. + +Freely rendered from the French of Auguste Angellier, 1911. + + + +THE FIRST BIRD O' SPRING + +TO OLIVE WHEELER + + + Winter on Mount Shasta, + April down below; + Golden hours of glowing sun, + Sudden showers of snow! + Under leafless thickets + Early wild-flowers cling; + But, oh, my dear, I'm fain to hear + The first bird o' Spring! + + Alders are in tassel, + Maples are in bud; + Waters of the blue McCloud + Shout in joyful flood; + Through the giant pine-trees + Flutters many a wing; + But, oh, my dear, I long to hear + The first bird o' Spring! + + Candle-light and fire-light + Mingle at "the Bend;" + 'Neath the roof of Bo-hai-pan + Light and shadow blend. + Sweeter than a wood-thrush + A maid begins to sing; + And, oh, my dear, I'm glad to hear + The first bird o' Spring! + +The Bend, California, April 29, 1913. + + + + +THE HOUSE OF RIMMON + +A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +BENHADAD: King of Damascus. +REZON: High Priest of the House of Rimmon. +SABALLIDIN: A Noble. +HAZAEL } +IZDUBHAR } Courtiers. +RAKHAZ } +SHUMAKIM: The King's Fool. +ELISHA: Prophet of Israel. +NAAMAN: Captain of the Armies of Damascus. +RUAHMAH: A Captive Maid of Israel. +TSARPI: Wife to Naaman. +KHAMMA } +NUBTA } Attendants of Tsarpi. + +Soldiers, Servants, Citizens, etc., etc. + +SCENE: _Damascus and the Mountains of Samaria._ + +TIME: 850 _B. C._ + + + +ACT I + + +SCENE I + +_Night, in the garden of NAAMAN at Damascus. At the left the palace, + with softly gleaming lights and music coming from the open latticed + windows. The garden is full of oleanders, roses, pomegranates, + abundance of crimson flowers; the air is heavy with their fragrance: + a fountain at the right is plashing gently: behind it is an arbour + covered with vines. Near the centre of the garden stands a small, + hideous image of the god Rimmon. Beyond the arbour rises the lofty + square tower of the House of Rimmon, which casts a shadow from the + moon across the garden. The background is a wide, hilly landscape, + with the snow-clad summit of Mount Herman in the distance. Enter + by the palace door, the lady TSARPI, robed in red and gold, and + followed by her maids, KHAMMA and NUBTA. She remains on the + terrace: they go down into the garden, looking about, and + returning to her._ + +KHAMMA: + There's no one here; the garden is asleep. + +NUBTA: + The flowers are nodding, all the birds abed,-- + Nothing awake except the watchful stars! + +KHAMMA: + The stars are sentinels discreet and mute: + How many things they know and never tell! + +TSARPI: [Impatiently.] + Unlike the stars, how many things you tell + And do not know! When comes your master home? + +NUBTA: + Lady, his armour-bearer brought us word,-- + At moonset, not before. + +TSARPI: + He haunts the camp + And leaves me much alone; yet I can pass + The time of absence not unhappily, + If I but know the time of his return. + An hour of moonlight yet! Khamma, my mirror! + These curls are ill arranged, this veil too low,-- + So,--that is better, careless maids! Withdraw,-- + But bring me word if Naaman appears! + +KHAMMA: + Mistress, have no concern; for when we hear + The clatter of his horse along the street, + We'll run this way and lead your dancers down + With song and laughter,--you shall know in time. + + [Exeunt KHAMMA and NUBTA laughing, TSARPI descends + the steps.] + +TSARPI: + My guest is late; but he will surely come! + The man who burns to drain the cup of love, + The priest whose greed of glory never fails, + Both, both have need of me, and he will come. + And I,--what do I need? Why everything + That helps my beauty to a higher throne; + All that a priest can promise, all a man + Can give, and all a god bestow, I need: + This may a woman win, and this will I. + + [Enter REZON quietly from the shadow of the trees. + He stands behind TSARPI and listens, smiling, + to her last words. Then he drops his mantle of + leopard-skin, and lifts his high priest's rod of + bronze, shaped at one end like a star.] + +REZON: + Tsarpi! + +TSARPI: [Bowing low before him.] + The mistress of the house of Naaman + Salutes the master of the House of Rimmon. + +REZON: + Rimmon receives you with his star of peace, + For you were once a handmaid of his altar. + + [He lowers the star-point of the rod, which glows + for a moment with rosy light above her head.] + + And now the keeper of his temple asks + The welcome of the woman for the man. + +TSARPI: [Giving him her hand, but holding off his embrace.] + No more,--till I have heard what brings you here + By night, within the garden of the one + Who scorns you most and fears you least in all + Damascus. + +REZON: + Trust me, I repay his scorn + With double hatred,--Naaman, the man + Who stands against the nobles and the priests, + This powerful fool, this impious devotee + Of liberty, who loves the people more + Than he reveres the city's ancient god: + This frigid husband who sets you below + His dream of duty to a horde of slaves: + This man I hate, and I will humble him. + +TSARPI: + I think I hate him too. He stands apart + From me, ev'n while he holds me in his arms, + By something that I cannot understand. + He swears he loves his wife next to his honour! + Next? That's too low! I will be first or nothing. + +REZON: + With me you are the first, the absolute! + When you and I have triumphed you shall reign; + And you and I will bring this hero down. + +TSARPI: + But how? For he is strong. + +REZON: + By this, the hand + Of Tsarpi; and by this, the rod of Rimmon. + +TSARPI: + Your plan? + +REZON: + You know the host of Nineveh + Is marching now against us. Envoys come + To bid us yield before a hopeless war. + Our king is weak: the nobles, being rich, + Would purchase peace to make them richer still: + Only the people and the soldiers, led + By Naaman, would fight for liberty. + Blind fools! To-day the envoys came to me, + And talked with me in secret. Promises, + Great promises! For every noble house + That urges peace, a noble recompense: + The King, submissive, kept in royal state + And splendour: most of all, honour and wealth + Shall crown the House of Rimmon, and his priest,-- + Yea, and his priestess! For we two will rise + Upon the city's fall. The common folk + Shall suffer; Naaman shall sink with them + In wreck; but I shall rise, and you shall rise + Above me! You shall climb, through incense-smoke, + And days of pomp, and nights of revelry, + Unto the topmost room in Rimmon's tower, + The secret, lofty room, the couch of bliss, + And the divine embraces of the god. + +TSARPI: [Throwing out her arms in exultation.] + All, all I wish! What must I do for this? + +REZON: + Turn Naaman away from thoughts of war. + +TSARPI: + But if I fail? His will is proof against + The lure of kisses and the wile of tears. + +REZON: + Where woman fails, woman and priest succeed. + Before the King decides, he must consult + The oracle of Rimmon. This my hands + Prepare,--and you shall read the signs prepared + In words of fear to melt the brazen heart + Of Naaman. + +TSARPI: + But if it flame instead? + +REZON: + I know a way to quench that flame. The cup, + The parting cup your hand shall give to him! + What if the curse of Rimmon should infect + That sacred wine with poison, secretly + To work within his veins, week after week + Corrupting all the currents of his blood, + Dimming his eyes, wasting his flesh? What then? + Would he prevail in war? Would he come back + To glory, or to shame? What think you? + +TSARPI: + I?-- + I do not think; I only do my part. + But can the gods bless this? + +REZON: + The gods can bless + Whatever they decree; their will makes right; + And this is for the glory of the House + Of Rimmon,--and for thee, my queen. Come, come! + The night grows dark: we'll perfect our alliance. + + [REZON draws her with him, embracing her, through + the shadows of the garden. RUAHMAH, who has been + sleeping in the arbour, has been awakened during + the dialogue, and has been dimly visible in her + white dress, behind the vines. She parts them and + comes out, pushing back her long, dark hair from + her temples.] + +RUAHMAH: + What have I heard? O God, what shame is this + Plotted beneath Thy pure and silent stars! + Was it for this that I was brought away + A captive from the hills of Israel + To serve the heathen in a land of lies? + Ah, treacherous, shameful priest! Ah, shameless wife + Of one too noble to suspect thy guilt! + The very greatness of his generous heart + Betrays him to their hands. What can I do! + Nothing,--a slave,--hated and mocked by all + My fellow-slaves! O bitter prison-life! + I smother in this black, betraying air + Of lust and luxury; I faint beneath + The shadow of this House of Rimmon. God + Have mercy! Lead me out to Israel. + To Israel! + + [Music and laughter heard within the palace. The + doors fly open and a flood of men and women, + dancers, players, flushed with wine, dishevelled, + pour down the steps, KHAMMA and NUBTA with them. + They crown the image with roses and dance around + it. RUAHMAH is discovered crouching beside the + arbour. They drag her out beside the image.] + +NUBTA: + Look! Here's the Hebrew maid,-- + She's homesick; let us comfort her! + +KHAMMA: [They put their arms around her.] + Yes, dancing is the cure for homesickness. + We'll make her dance. + +RUAHMAH: [She slips away.] + I pray you, let me go! + I cannot dance, I do not know your measures. + +KHAMMA: + Then sing for us,--a song of Israel! + +RUAHMAH: + How can I sing the songs of Israel + In this strange country? O my heart would break! + +A SERVANT: + A stubborn and unfriendly maid! We'll whip her. + + [They circle around her, striking her with + rose-branches; she sinks to her knees, covering + her face with her bare arms, which bleed.] + +NUBTA: + Look, look! She kneels to Rimmon, she is tamed. + +RUAHMAH: [Springing up and lifting her arms.] + Nay, not to this dumb idol, but to Him + Who made Orion and the seven stars! + +ALL: + She raves,--she mocks at Rimmon! Punish her! + The fountain! Wash her blasphemy away! + + [They push her toward the fountain, laughing and + shouting. In the open door of the palace NAAMAN + appears, dressed in blue and silver, bareheaded + and unarmed. He comes to the top of the steps + and stands for a moment, astonished and angry.] + +NAAMAN: + Silence! What drunken rout is this? Begone, + Ye barking dogs and mewing cats! Out, all! + Poor child, what have they done to thee? + + [Exeunt all except RUAHMAH, who stands with her + face covered by her hands. NAAMAN comes to her, + laying his hand on her shoulder.] + +RUAHMAH: [Looking up in his face.] + Nothing, + My lord and master! They have harmed me not. + +NAAMAN: [Touching her arm.] + Dost call this nothing? + +RUAHMAH: + Since my lord is come! + +NAAMAN: + I do not know thy face,--who art thou, child? + +RUAHMAH: + The handmaid of thy wife. + +NAAMAN: + Whence comest thou? + Thy voice is like thy mistress, but thy looks + Have something foreign. Tell thy name, thy land. + +RUAHMAH: + Ruahmah is my name, a captive maid, + The daughter of a prince in Israel, + Where once, in olden days, I saw my lord + Ride through our highlands, when Samaria + Was allied with Damascus to defeat + Our common foe. + +NAAMAN: + And thou rememberest this? + +RUAHMAH: + As clear as yesterday! Master, I saw + Thee riding on a snow-white horse beside + Our king; and all we joyful little maids + Strewed boughs of palm along the victors' way, + For you had driven out the enemy, + Broken; and both our lands were friends and free. + +NAAMAN: [Sadly.] + Well, they are past, those noble days! The days + When nations would imperil all to keep + Their liberties, are only memories now. + The common cause is lost,--and thou art brought, + The captive of some mercenary raid, + Some skirmish of a gold-begotten war, + To serve within my house. Dost thou fare well? + +RUAHMAH: + Master, thou seest. + +NAAMAN: + Yes, I see! My child, + Why do they hate thee so? + +RUAHMAH: + I do not know, + Unless because I will not bow to Rimmon. + +NAAMAN: + Thou needest not. I fear he is a god + Who pities not his people, will not save. + My heart is sick with doubt of him. But thou + Shalt hold thy faith,--I care not what it is,-- + Worship thy god; but keep thy spirit free. + + [He takes the amulet from his neck and gives it to her.] + + Here, take this chain and wear it with my seal, + None shall molest the maid who carries this. + Thou hast found favour in thy master's eyes; + Hast thou no other gift to ask of me? + +RUAHMAH: [Earnestly.] + My lord, I do entreat thee not to go + To-morrow to the council. Seek the King + And speak with him in secret; but avoid + The audience-hall. + +NAAMAN: + Why, what is this? Thy wits + Are wandering. My honour is engaged + To speak for war, to lead in war against + The Assyrian Bull and save Damascus. + +RUAHMAH: [With confused earnestness.] + Then, lord, if thou must go, I pray thee speak,-- + I know not how,--but so that all must hear. + With magic of unanswerable words + Persuade thy foes. Yet watch,--beware,-- + +NAAMAN: + Of what? + +RUAHMAH: [Turning aside.] + I am entangled in my speech,--no light,-- + How shall I tell him? He will not believe. + O my dear lord, thine enemies are they + Of thine own house. I pray thee to beware,-- + Beware,--of Rimmon! + +NAAMAN: + Child, thy words are wild: + Thy troubles have bewildered all thy brain. + Go, now, and fret no more; but sleep, and dream + Of Israel! For thou shalt see thy home + Among the hills again. + +RUAHMAH: + Master, good-night. + And may thy slumber be as sweet and deep + As if thou camped at snowy Hermon's foot, + Amid the music of his waterfalls. + There friendly oak-trees bend their boughs above + The weary head, pillowed on earth's kind breast, + And unpolluted breezes lightly breathe + A song of sleep among the murmuring leaves. + There the big stars draw nearer, and the sun + Looks forth serene, undimmed by city's mirk + Or smoke of idol-temples, to behold + The waking wonder of the wide-spread world. + There life renews itself with every morn + In purest joy of living. May the Lord + Deliver thee, dear master, from the nets + Laid for thy feet, and lead thee out along + The open path, beneath the open sky! + + [Exit RUAHMAH: NAAMAN stands looking after her.] + + +SCENE II + +TIME: _The following morning_ + +_The audience-hall in BENHADAD'S palace. The sides of the hall are + lined with lofty columns: the back opens toward the city, with + descending steps: the House of Rimmon with its high tower is seen + in the background. The throne is at the right in front: opposite + is the royal door of entrance, guarded by four tall sentinels. + Enter at the rear between the columns, RAKHAZ, SABALLIDIN, HAZAEL, + IZDUBHAR._ + +IZDUBHAR: [An excited old man.] + The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of lentils. + The people are foaming and bubbling round and round like + beans in the pottage. + +HAZAEL: [A lean, crafty man.] + Fear is a hot fire. + +RAKHAZ: [A fat, pompous man.] + Well may they fear, for the Assyrians are not three days + distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout to + chop Damascus down like a pitcher of spilt milk. + +SABALLIDIN: [Young and frank.] + Cannot Naaman drive them back? + +RAKHAZ: [Puffing and blowing.] + Ho! Naaman? Where have you been living? Naaman is a broken + reed whose claws have been cut. Build no hopes on that + foundation, for it will run away and leave you all adrift + in the conflagration. + +SABALLIDIN: + He clatters like a windmill. What would he say, Hazael? + +HAZAEL: + Naaman can do nothing without the command of the King; and + the King fears to order the army to march without the + approval of the gods. The High Priest is against it. The + House of Rimmon is for peace with Asshur. + +RAKHAZ: + Yes, and all the nobles are for peace. We are the men whose + wisdom lights the rudder that upholds the chariot of state. + Would we be rich if we were not wise? Do we not know better + than the rabble what medicine will silence this fire that + threatens to drown us? + +IZDUBHAR: + But if the Assyrians come, we shall all perish; they will + despoil us all. + +HAZAEL: + Not us, my lord, only the common people. The envoys have + offered favourable terms to the priests, and the nobles, + and the King. No palace, no temple, shall be plundered. + Only the shops, and the markets, and the houses of the + multitude shall be given up to the Bull. He will eat + his supper from the pot of lentils, not from our golden + plate. + +RAKHAZ: + Yes, and all who speak for peace in the council shall be + enriched; our heads shall be crowned with seats of honour + in the procession of the Assyrian king. He needs wise + counsellors to help him guide the ship of empire onto the + solid rock of prosperity. You must be with us, my lords + Izdubhar and Saballidin, and let the stars of your wisdom + roar loudly for peace. + +IZDUBHAR: + He talks like a tablet read upside down,--a wild ass braying + in the wilderness. Yet there is policy in his words. + +SABALLIDIN: + I know not. Can a kingdom live without a people or an army? + If we let the Bull in to sup on the lentils, will he not + make his breakfast in our vineyards? + + [Enter other courtiers following SHUMAKIM, a hump-backed + jester, in blue, green and red, a wreath of poppies + around his neck and a flagon in his hand. He walks + unsteadily, and stutters in his speech.] + +HAZAEL: + Here is Shumakim, the King's fool, with his legs full of + last night's wine. + +SHUMAKIM: [Balancing himself in front of them and chuckling.] + Wrong, my lords, very wrong! This is not last night's wine, + but a draught the King's physician gave me this morning + for a cure. It sobers me amazingly! I know you all, + my lords: any fool would know you. You, master, are a + statesman; and you are a politician; and you are a patriot. + +RAKHAZ: + Am I a statesman? I felt something of the kind about me. + But what is a statesman? + +SHUMAKIM: + A politician that is stuffed with big words; a fat man in a + mask; one that plays a solemn tune on a sackbut full o' wind. + +HAZAEL: + And what is a politician? + +SHUMAKIM: + A statesman that has dropped his mask and cracked his sackbut. + Men trust him for what he is, and he never deceives them, + because he always lies. + +IZDUBHAR: + Why do you call me a patriot? + +SHUMAKIM: + Because you know what is good for you; you love your country + as you love your pelf. You feel for the common people,--as + the wolf feels for the sheep. + +SABALLIDIN: + And what am I? + +SHUMAKIM: + A fool, master, just a plain fool; and there is hope of thee + for that reason. Embrace me, brother, and taste this; but + not too much,--it will intoxicate thee with sobriety. + + [The hall has been slowly filling with courtiers and + soldiers; a crowd of people begin to come up the steps + at the rear, where they are halted by a chain guarded + by servants of the palace. A bell tolls; the royal door + is thrown open; the aged King totters across the hall + and takes his seat on the throne with the four tall + sentinels standing behind him. All bow down shading + their eyes with their hands.] + +BENHADAD: + The hour of royal audience is come. + I'll hear the envoys. Are my counsellors + At hand? Where are the priests of Rimmon's house? + + [Gongs sound. REZON comes in from the side, followed + by a procession of priests in black and yellow. The + courtiers bow; the King rises; REZON takes his stand + on the steps of the throne at the left of the King.] + +BENHADAD: + Where is my faithful servant Naaman, + The captain of my host? + + [Trumpets sound from the city. The crowd on the steps + divide; the chain is lowered; NAAMAN enters, followed + by six soldiers. He is dressed in chain-mail with a + silver helmet and a cloak of blue. He uncovers, and + kneels on the steps of the throne at the King's right.] + +NAAMAN: + My lord the King, + The bearer of thy sword is here. + +BENHADAD: [Giving NAAMAN his hand, and sitting down.] + Welcome, + My strong right arm that never me failed yet! + I am in doubt,--but stay thou close to me + While I decide this cause. Where are the envoys? + Let them appear and give their message. + + [Enter the Assyrian envoys; one in white and the other + in red; both with the golden Bull's head embroidered + on their robes. They come from the right, rear, bow + slightly before the throne, and take the centre of + the hall.] + +WHITE ENVOY: [Stepping forward.] + Greeting from Shalmaneser, Asshur's son, + Who rules the world from Nineveh, + Unto Benhadad, monarch in Damascus! + The conquering Bull has led his army forth; + The south has fallen before him, and the west + His feet have trodden; Hamath is laid waste; + He pauses at your gate, invincible,-- + To offer peace. The princes of your court, + The priests of Rimmon's house, and you, the King, + If you pay homage to your Overlord, + Shall rest secure, and flourish as our friends. + Assyria sends to you this gilded yoke; + Receive it as the sign of proffered peace. + + [He lays a yoke on the steps of the throne.] + +BENHADAD: + What of the city? Said your king no word + Of our Damascus, and the many folk + That do inhabit her and make her great? + What of the soldiers who have fought for us? + +WHITE ENVOY: + Of these my royal master did not speak. + +BENHADAD: + Strange silence! Must we give them up to him? + Is this the price at which he offers us + The yoke of peace? What if we do refuse? + +RED ENVOY: [Stepping forward.] + Then ruthless war! War to the uttermost. + No quarter, no compassion, no escape! + The Bull will gore and trample in his fury + Nobles and priests and king,--none shall be spared! + Before the throne we lay our second gift; + This bloody horn, the symbol of red war. + + [He lays a long bull's horn, stained with blood, on + the steps of the throne.] + +WHITE ENVOY: + Our message is delivered. We return + Unto our master. He will wait three days + To know your royal choice between his gifts. + Keep which you will and send the other back. + The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring; + But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army! + + [The ENVOYS retire, amid confused murmurs of the + people, the King silent, his head, sunken on his + breast.] + +BENHADAD: + Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure! + We are not now that force which feared no foe: + Our old allies have left us. Can we face the Bull + Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel. + + [Many speak at once, confusedly.] + + What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel? + Give me clear words and reasonable speech. + +RAKHAZ: [Pompously.] + O King, I am a reasonable man! + And there be some who call me very wise + And prudent; but of this I will not speak, + For I am also modest. Let me plead, + Persuade, and reason you to choose for peace. + This golden yoke may be a bitter draught, + But better far to fold it in our arms, + Than risk our cargoes in the savage horn + Of war. Shall we imperil all our wealth, + Our valuable lives? Nobles are few, + Rich men are rare, and wise men rarer still; + The precious jewels on the tree of life, + Wherein the common people are but bricks + And clay and rubble. Let the city go, + But save the corner-stones that float the ship! + Have I not spoken well? + +BENHADAD: [Shaking his head.] + Excellent well! + Most eloquent! But misty in the meaning. + +HAZAEL: [With cold decision.] + Then let me speak, O King, in plainer words! + The days of independent states are past: + The tide of empire sweeps across the earth; + Assyria rides it with resistless power + And thunders on to subjugate the world. + Oppose her, and we fight with Destiny; + Submit to her demands, and we shall ride + With her to victory. Therefore accept + The golden yoke, Assyria's gift of peace. + +NAAMAN: [Starting forward eagerly.] + There is no peace beneath a conqueror's yoke! + For every state that barters liberty + To win imperial favour, shall be drained + Of her best blood, henceforth, in endless wars + To make the empire greater. Here's the choice, + My King, we fight to keep our country free, + Or else we fight forevermore to help + Assyria bind the world as we are bound. + I am a soldier, and I know the hell + Of war! But I will gladly ride through hell + To save Damascus. Master, bid me ride! + Ten thousand chariots wait for your command; + And twenty thousand horsemen strain the leash + Of patience till you let them go; a throng + Of spearmen, archers, swordsmen, like the sea + Chafing against a dike, roar for the onset! + O master, let me launch your mighty host + Against the Bull,--we'll bring him to his knees! + + [Cries of "war!" from the soldiers and the people; + "peace!" from the courtiers and the priests. The + King rises, turning toward NAAMAN, and seems about + to speak. REZON lifts his rod.] + +REZON: + Shall not the gods decide when mortals doubt? + Rimmon is master of the city's fate; + We read his will, by our most ancient-faith, + In omens and in signs of mystery. + Must we not hearken to his high commands? + +BENHADAD: [Sinking back on the throne, submissively.] + I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House. + Consult the oracle. But who shall read? + +REZON: + Tsarpi, the wife of Naaman, who served + Within the temple in her maiden years, + Shall be the mouth-piece of the mighty god, + To-day's high-priestess. Bring the sacrifice! + + [Gongs and cymbals sound: enter priests carrying + an altar on which a lamb is bound. The altar is + placed in the centre of the hall. TSARPI follows + the priests, covered with a long transparent veil + of black, sown with gold stars; RUAHMAH, in white, + bears her train. TSARPI stands before the altar, + facing it, and lifts her right hand holding a + knife. RUAHMAH steps back, near the throne, her + hands crossed on her breast, her head bowed. The + priests close in around TSARPI and the altar. The + knife is seen to strike downward. Gongs and cymbals + sound: cries of "Rimmon, hear us!" The circle of + priests opens, and TSARPI turns slowly to face the + King.] + +TSARPI: [Monotonously.] + _Black is the blood of the victim, + Rimmon is unfavourable, + Asratu is unfavourable; + They will not war against Asshur, + They will make a league with the God of Nineveh. + Evil is in store for Damascus, + A strong enemy will lay waste the land. + Therefore make peace with the Bull; + Hearken to the voice of Rimmon._ + + [She turns again to the altar, and the priests close + in around her. REZON lifts his rod toward the tower + of the temple. A flash of lightning followed by + thunder; smoke rises from the altar; all except + NAAMAN and RUAHMAH cover their faces. The circle + of priests opens again, and TSARPI comes forward + slowly, chanting.] + + CHANT: + + _Hear the words of Rimmon! Thus your Maker speaketh: + I, the god of thunder, riding on the whirlwind, + I, the god of lightning leaping from the storm-cloud, + I will smite with vengeance him who dares defy me! + He who leads Damascus into war with Asshur, + Conquering or conquered, bears my curse upon him. + Surely shall my arrow strike his heart in secret, + Burn his flesh with fever, turn his blood to poison. + Brand him with corruption, drive him into darkness; + He shall surely perish by the doom of Rimmon._ + + [All are terrified and look toward NAAMAN, + shuddering. RUAHMAH alone seems not to heed the + curse, but stands with her eyes fixed on NAAMAN.] + +RUAHMAH: + Be not afraid! There is a greater God + Shall cover thee with His almighty wings: + Beneath his shield and buckler shalt thou trust. + +BENHADAD: + Repent, my son, thou must not brave this curse. + +NAAMAN: + My King, there is no curse as terrible + As that which lights a bosom-fire for him + Who gives away his honour, to prolong + A craven life whose every breath is shame! + If I betray the men who follow me, + The city that has put her trust in me, + What king can shield me from my own deep scorn + What god release me from that self-made hell? + The tender mercies of Assyria + I know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers. + Give up Damascus, and her streets will run + Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart, + That mighty, labouring heart, wounded and crushed + Beneath the brutal hooves of the wild Bull, + Will cry against her captain, sitting safe + Among the nobles, in some pleasant place. + I shall be safe,--safe from the threatened wrath + Of unknown gods, but damned forever by + The men I know,--that is the curse I fear. + +BENHADAD: + Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow + Our heads before the sovereignties of heaven? + The unseen rulers are Divine. + +NAAMAN: + O King, + I am unlearned in the lore of priests; + Yet well I know that there are hidden powers + About us, working mortal weal and woe + Beyond the force of mortals to control. + And if these powers appear in love and truth, + I think they must be gods, and worship them. + But if their secret will is manifest + In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence, + That punish where no fault is found, and smite + The poor with undeserved calamity, + And pierce the undefended in the dark + With arrows of injustice, and foredoom + The innocent to burn in endless pain, + I will not call this fierce almightiness + Divine. Though I must bear, with every man, + The burden of my life ordained, I'll keep + My soul unterrified, and tread the path + Of truth and honour with a steady heart! + Have ye not heard, my lords? The oracle + Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom + Of vengeance if I lead the army out. + "Conquered or conquering!" I grip that chance! + Damascus free, her foes all beaten back, + The people saved from slavery, the King + Upheld in honour on his ancient throne,-- + O what's the cost of this? I'll gladly pay + Whatever gods there be, whatever price + They ask for this one victory. Give me + This gilded sign of shame to carry back; + I'll shake it in the face of Asshur's king, + And break it on his teeth. + +BENHADAD: [Rising.] + Then go, my never-beaten captain, go! + And may the powers that hear thy solemn vow + Forgive thy rashness for Damascus' sake, + Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge. + +REZON: [Standing beside the altar.] + The pledge, O King, this man must seal his pledge + At Rimmon's altar. He must take the cup + Of soldier-sacrament, and bind himself + By thrice-performed libation to abide + The fate he has invoked. + +NAAMAN: [Slowly.] + And so I will. + + [He comes down the steps, toward the altar, where + REZON is filling the cup which TSARPI holds. + RUAHMAH throws herself before NAAMAN, clasping + his knees.] + +RUAHMAH: [Passionately and wildly.] + My lord, I do beseech you, stay! There's death + Within that cup. It is an offering + To devils. See, the wine blazes like fire, + It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup, + Fulfilled of treachery and hate. + Dear master, noble master, touch it not! + +NAAMAN: + Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not, + But let me go! Here, treat her tenderly! + + [Gives her into the hands of SABALLIDIN.] + + Can harm befall me from the wife who bears + My name? I take the cup of fate from her. + I greet the unknown powers; [Pours libation.] + I will perform my vow; [Again.] + I will abide my fate; [Again.] + I pledge my life to keep Damascus free. + + [He drains the cup, and lets it fall.] + +_CURTAIN._ + + + +ACT II + + +TIME: _A week later_ + +_The fore-court of the House of Rimmon. At the back the broad + steps and double doors of the shrine; above them the tower of + the god, its summit invisible. Enter various groups of citizens, + talking, laughing, shouting: RAKHAZ, HAZAEL, SHUMAKIM and others._ + +FIRST CITIZEN: + Great news, glorious news, the Assyrians are beaten! + +SECOND CITIZEN: + Naaman is returning, crowned with victory. Glory to our noble + captain! + +THIRD CITIZEN: + No, he is killed. I had it from one of the camp-followers who + saw him fall at the head of the battle. They are bringing + his body to bury it with honour. O sorrowful victory! + +RAKHAZ: + Peace, my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have not been + rightly informed, I will misinform you. The accounts of + Naaman's death are overdrawn. He was killed, but his life + has been preserved. One of his wounds was mortal, but the + other three were curable, and by these the physicians have + saved him. + +SHUMAKIM: [Balancing himself before RAKHAZ in pretended admiration.] + O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and three + curable, therefore he must recover as it were, by three + to one. Rakhaz, do you know that you are a marvelous man? + +RAKHAZ: + Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge. + +SHUMAKIM: + Too modest, for in knowing this you know more than any other + in Damascus! + + [Enter, from the right, SABALLIDIN in armour: from + the left, TSARPI with her attendants, among whom + is RUAHMAH.] + +HAZAEL: + Here is Saballidin, we'll question him; + He was enflamed by Naaman's wild words, + And rode with him to battle. Give us news, + Of your great captain! Is he safe and well? + When will he come? Or will he come at all? + + [All gather around him listening eagerly.] + +SABALLIDIN: + He comes but now, returning from the field + Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame! + Three times he led the charge; three times he fell + Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back. + Yet every wound was but a spur to urge + His valour onward. In the last attack + He rode before us as the crested wave + That leads the flood; and lo, our enemies + Were broken like a dam of river-reeds. + The flying King encircled by his guard + Was lodged like driftwood on a little hill. + Then Naaman, who led our foremost band + Of whirlwind riders, hammered through the hedge + Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke. + "Take back this gift," he cried; and shattered it + On Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight + Dissolved in universal rout; the King, + His chariots and his horsemen fled away; + Our captain stood the master of the field, + And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings, + First to the King, report of this great triumph. + + [Shouts of joy and applause.] + +RUAHMAH: [Coming close to SABALLIDIN.] + But what of him who won it? Fares he well? + My mistress would receive some word of him. + +SABALLIDIN: + Hath she not heard? + +RUAHMAH: + But one brief message came: + A letter saying, "We have fought and conquered," + No word of his own person. Fares he well? + +SABALLIDIN: + Alas, most ill! For he is like a man + Consumed by some strange sickness: wasted, wan,-- + His eyes are dimmed so that he scarce can see; + His ears are dulled; his fearless face is pale + As one who walks to meet a certain doom + Yet will not flinch. It is most pitiful,-- + But you shall see. + +RUAHMAH: + Yea, we shall see a man + Who dared to face the wrath of evil powers + Unknown, and hazard all to save his country. + + [Enter BENHADAD with courtiers.] + +BENHADAD: + Where is my faithful servant Naaman, + The captain of my host? + +SABALLIDIN: + My lord, he comes. + + [Trumpet sounds. Enter company of soldiers in + armour. Then four soldiers bearing captured + standards of Asshur. NAAMAN follows, very pale, + armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and + guides himself by cords from the standards on + each side, but walks firmly. The doors of the + temple open slightly, and REZON appears at the + top of the steps. NAAMAN lets the cords fall, + and gropes his way for a few paces.] + +NAAMAN: [Kneeling.] + Where is my King? + Master, the bearer of thy sword returns. + The golden yoke thou gavest me I broke + On him who sent it. Asshur's Bull hath fled + Dehorned. The standards of his host are thine! + Damascus is all thine, at peace, and free! + +BENHADAD: [Holding out his arms.] + Thou art a mighty man of valour! Come, + And let me fold thy courage to my heart. + +REZON: [Lifting his rod.] + Forbear, O King! Stand back from him, all men! + By the great name of Rimmon I proclaim + This man a leper! See, upon his brow, + This little mark, the death-white seal of doom! + That tiny spot will spread, eating his flesh, + Gnawing his fingers bone from bone, until + The impious heart that dared defy the gods + Dissolves in the slow death which now begins. + Unclean! unclean! Henceforward he is dead: + No human hand shall touch him, and no home + Of men shall give him shelter. He shall walk + Only with corpses of the selfsame death + Down the long path to a forgotten tomb. + Avoid, depart, I do adjure you all, + Leave him to god,--the leper Naaman! + + [All shrink back horrified. REZON retires into the + temple; the crowd melts away, wailing; TSARPI is + among the first to go, followed by her attendants, + except RUAHMAH, who crouches, with her face + covered, not far from NAAMAN.] + +BENHADAD: [Lingering and turning back.] + Alas, my son! O Naaman, my son! + Why did I let thee go? I must obey. + Who can resist the gods? Yet none shall take + Thy glorious title, captain of my host! + I will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwell + With guards of honour in a house of mine + Always. Damascus never shall forget + What thou hast done! O miserable words + Of crowned impotence! O mockery of power + Given to kings who cannot even defend + Their dearest from the secret wrath of heaven! + O Naaman, my son, my son! [Exit.] + +NAAMAN: [Slowly passing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.] + Am I alone + With thee, inexorable one, whose pride + Offended takes this horrible revenge? + I must submit my mortal flesh to thee, + Almighty, but I will not call thee god! + Yet thou hast found the way to wound my soul + Most deeply through the flesh; and I must find + The way to let my wounded soul escape! + + [Drawing his sword.] + + Come, my last friend, thou art more merciful + Than Rimmon. Why should I endure the doom + He sends me? Irretrievably cut off + From all dear intercourse of human love, + From all the tender touch of human hands, + From all brave comradeship with brother-men, + With eyes that see no faces through this dark, + With ears that hear all voices far away, + Why should I cling to misery, and grope + My long, long way from pain to pain, alone? + +RUAHMAH: [At his feet.] + Nay, not alone, dear lord, for I am here; + And I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee! + +NAAMAN: + What voice is that? The silence of my tomb + Is broken by a ray of music,--whose? + +RUAHMAH: [Rising.] + The one who loves thee best in all the world. + +NAAMAN: + Why that should be,--O dare I dream it true? + Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart + As cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest! + Thou com'st to hold me from the last disgrace,-- + The coward's flight into the dark. Go back + Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable + While there is one alive on earth who loves us. + +RUAHMAH: + My lord,--my lord,--O listen! You have erred,-- + You do mistake me now,--this dream-- + +NAAMAN: + Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death + Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe, + Though gods are cruel, a woman can be kind. + Grant me but this! For see,--I ask so little,-- + Only to know that thou art faithful, + That thou art near me, though I touch thee not,-- + O this will hold me up, though it be given + From pity more than love. + +RUAHMAH: [Trembling, and speaking slowly.] + Not so, my lord! + My pity is a stream; my pride of thee + Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream; + My love for thee is like the sovereign moon + That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul + Flow unto thee and follow after thee; + And where thou goest I will go; and where + Thou diest I will die,--in the same hour. + + [She lays her hand on his arm. He draws back.] + +NAAMAN: + O touch me not! Thou shalt not share my doom. + +RUAHMAH: + Entreat me not to go. I will obey + In all but this; but rob me not of this,-- + The only boon that makes life worth the living,-- + To walk beside thee day by day, and keep + Thy foot from stumbling; to prepare thy food + When thou art hungry, music for thy rest, + And cheerful words to comfort thy black hour; + And so to lead thee ever on, and on, + Through darkness, till we find the door of hope. + +NAAMAN: + What word is that? The leper has no hope. + +RUAHMAH: + Dear lord, the mark upon thy brow is yet + No broader than my little finger-nail. + Thy force is not abated, and thy step + Is firm. Wilt thou surrender to the enemy + Before thy strength is touched? Why, let me put + A drop of courage from my breast in thine! + There is a hope for thee. The captive maid + Of Israel who dwelt within thy house + Knew of a god very compassionate, + Long-suffering, slow to anger, one who heals + The sick, hath pity on the fatherless, + And saves the poor and him who has no helper. + His prophet dwells nigh to Samaria; + And I have heard that he hath brought the dead + To life again. We'll go to him. The King, + If I beseech him, will appoint a guard + Of thine own soldiers and Saballidin, + Thy friend, to convoy us upon our journey. + He'll give us royal letters to the King + Of Israel to make our welcome sure; + And we will take the open road, beneath + The open sky, to-morrow, and go on + Together till we find the door of hope. + Come, come with me! + + [She grasps his hand.] + +NAAMAN: [Drawing back.] + Thou must not touch me! + +RUAHMAH: [Unclasping her girdle and putting the end in his hand.] + Take my girdle, then! + +NAAMAN: [Kissing the clasp of the girdle.] + I do begin to think there is a God, + Since love on earth can work such miracles: + +_CURTAIN._ + + + +ACT III + + +TIME: _A month later: dawn_ + + +SCENE I + +_NAAMAN'S tent, on high ground among the mountains near Samaria: + the city below. In the distance, a wide and splendid landscape. + SABALLIDIN and soldiers on guard below the tent. Enter RUAHMAH + in hunter's dress, with a lute slung from her shoulder._ + +RUAHMAH: + Peace and good health to you, Saballidin. + Good morrow to you all. How fares my lord? + +SABALLIDIN: + The curtains of his tent are folded still: + They have not moved since we returned, last night, + And told him what befell us in the city. + +RUAHMAH: + Told him! Why did you make report to him + And not to me? Am I not captain here, + Intrusted by the King's command with care + Of Naaman until he is restored? + 'Tis mine to know the first of good or ill + In this adventure: mine to shield his heart + From every arrow of adversity. + What have you told him? Speak! + +SABALLIDIN: + Lady, we feared + To bring our news to you. For when the King + Of Israel had read our monarch's letter, + He rent his clothes, and cried, "Am I a god, + To kill and make alive, that I should heal + A leper? Ye have come with false pretence, + Damascus seeks a quarrel with me. Go!" + But when we told our lord, he closed his tent, + And there remains enfolded in his grief. + I trust he sleeps; 'twere kind to let him sleep! + For now he doth forget his misery, + And all the burden of his hopeless woe + Is lifted from him by the gentle hand + Of slumber. Oh, to those bereft of hope + Sleep is the only blessing left,--the last + Asylum of the weary, the one sign + Of pity from impenetrable heaven. + Waking is strife; sleep is the truce of God! + Ah, lady, wake him not. The day will be + Full long for him to suffer, and for us + To turn our disappointed faces home + On the long road by which we must return. + +RUAHMAH: + Return! Who gave you that command? Not I! + The King made me the leader of this quest, + And bound you all to follow me, because + He knew I never would return without + The thing for which he sent us. I'll go on + Day after day, unto the uttermost parts + Of earth, if need be, and beyond the gates + Of morning, till I find that which I seek,-- + New life for Naaman. Are ye ashamed + To have a woman lead you? Then go back + And tell the King, "This huntress went too far + For us to follow: she pursues the trail + Of hope alone, refusing to forsake + The quarry: we grew weary of the chase; + And so we left her and retraced our steps, + Like faithless hounds, to sleep beside the fire." + Did Naaman forsake his soldiers thus + When you went forth to hunt the Assyrian Bull? + Your manly courage is less durable + Than woman's love, it seems. Go, if you will,-- + Who bids me now farewell? + +SOLDIERS: + Not I, not I! + +SABALLIDIN: + Lady, lead on, we'll follow you forever! + +RUAHMAH: + Why, now you speak like men! Brought you no word + Out of Samaria, except that cry + Of impotence and fear from Israel's King? + +SABALLIDIN: + I do remember while he spoke with us + A rustic messenger came in, and cried + "Elisha saith, bring Naaman to me + At Dothan, he shall surely know there is + A God in Israel." + +RUAHMAH: + What said the King? + +SABALLIDIN: + He only shouted "Go!" more wildly yet, + And rent his clothes again, as if he were + Half-maddened by a coward's fear, and thought + Only of how he might be rid of us. + What comfort could there be for him, what hope + For us, in the rude prophet's misty word? + +RUAHMAH: + It is the very word for which I prayed! + My trust was not in princes; for the crown, + The sceptre, and the purple robe are not + Significant of vital power. The man + Who saves his brother-men is he who lives + His life with Nature, takes deep hold on truth, + And trusts in God. A prophet's word is more + Than all the kings on earth can speak. How far + Is Dothan? + +SOLDIER: + Lady, 'tis but three hours' ride + Along the valley southward. + +RUAHMAH: + Near! so near? + I had not thought to end my task so soon! + Prepare yourselves with speed to take the road. + I will awake my lord. + + [Exeunt all but SABALLIDIN and RUAHMAH. She goes + toward the tent.] + +SABALLIDIN: + Ruahmah, stay! [She turns back.] + I've been your servant in this doubtful quest, + Obedient, faithful, loyal to your will,-- + What have I earned by this? + +RUAHMAH: + The gratitude + Of him we both desire to serve: your friend,-- + My master and my lord. + +SABALLIDIN: + No more than this? + +RUAHMAH: + Yes, if you will, take all the thanks my hands + Can hold, my lips can speak. + +SABALLIDIN: + I would have more. + +RUAHMAH: + My friend, there's nothing more to give to you. + My service to my lord is absolute. + There's not a drop of blood within my veins + But quickens at the very thought of him; + And not a dream of mine but he doth stand + Within its heart and make it bright. No man + To me is other than his friend or foe. + You are his friend, and I believe you true! + +SABALLIDIN: + I have been true to him,--now, I am true + To you. + +RUAHMAH: + Why, then, be doubly true to him. + O let us match our loyalties, and strive + Between us who shall win the higher crown! + Men boast them of a friendship stronger far + Than love of woman. Prove it! I'll not boast, + But I'll contend with you on equal terms + In this brave race: and if you win the prize + I'll hold you next to him: and if I win + He'll hold you next to me; and either way + We'll not be far apart. Do you accept + My challenge? + +SABALLIDIN: + Yes! For you enforce my heart + By honour to resign its great desire, + And love itself to offer sacrifice + Of all disloyal dreams on its own altar. + Yet love remains; therefore I pray you, think + How surely you must lose in our contention. + For I am known to Naaman: but you + He blindly takes for Tsarpi. 'Tis to her + He gives his gratitude: the praise you win + Endears her name. + +RUAHMAH: + Her name? Why, what is that? + A name is but an empty shell, a mask + That does not change the features of the face + Beneath it. Can a name rejoice, or weep, + Or hope? Can it be moved by tenderness + To daily services of love, or feel the warmth + Of dear companionship? How many things + We call by names that have no meaning! Kings + That cannot rule; and gods that are not good; + And wives that do not love! It matters not + What syllables he utters when he calls, + 'Tis I who come,--'tis I who minister + Unto my lord, and mine the living heart + That feels the comfort of his confidence, + The thrill of gladness when he speaks to me,-- + I do not hear the name! + +SABALLIDIN: + And yet, be sure + There's danger in this error,--and no gain! + +RUAHMAH: + I seek no gain: I only tread the path + Marked for me daily by the hand of love. + And if his blindness spared my lord one pang + Of sorrow in his black, forsaken hour,-- + And if this error makes his burdened heart + More quiet, and his shadowed way less dark, + Whom do I rob? Not her who chose to stay + At ease in Rimmon's House! Surely not him! + Only myself! And that enriches me. + Why trouble we the master? Let it go,-- + To-morrow he must know the truth,--and then + He shall dispose of me e'en as he will! + +SABALLIDIN: + To-morrow? + +RUAHMAH: + Yes, for I will tarry here, + While you conduct him to Elisha's house + To find the promised healing. I forebode + A sudden danger from the craven King + Of Israel, or else a secret ambush + From those who hate us in Damascus. Go, + But leave me twenty men: this mountain-pass + Protects the road behind you. Make my lord + Obey the prophet's word, whatever he commands, + And come again in peace. Farewell! + + [Exit SABALLIDIN. RUAHMAH goes toward the tent, then + pauses and turns back. She takes her lute and sings.] + + SONG + + _Above the edge of dark appear the lances of the sun; + Along the mountain-ridges clear his rosy heralds run; + The vapours down the valley go + Like broken armies, dark and low. + Look up, my heart, from every hill + In folds of rose and daffodil + The sunrise banners flow._ + + _O fly away on silent wing, ye boding owls of night! + O welcome little birds that sing the coming-in of light! + For new, and new, and ever-new, + The golden bud within the blue; + And every morning seems to say: + "There's something happy on the way, + And God sends love to you!"_ + +NAAMAN: [Appearing at the entrance of his tent.] + O let me ever wake to music! For the soul + Returns most gently then, and finds its way + By the soft, winding clue of melody, + Out of the dusky labyrinth of sleep, + Into the light. My body feels the sun + Though I behold naught that his rays reveal. + Come, thou who art my daydawn and my sight, + Sweet eyes, come close, and make the sunrise mine! + +RUAHMAH: [Coming near.] + A fairer day, dear lord, was never born + In Paradise! The sapphire cup of heaven + Is filled with golden wine: the earth, adorned + With jewel-drops of dew, unveils her face + A joyful bride, in welcome to her king. + And look! He leaps upon the Eastern hills + All ruddy fire, and claims her with a kiss. + Yonder the snowy peaks of Hermon float + Unmoving as a wind-dropt cloud. The gulf + Of Jordan, filled with violet haze, conceals + The river's winding trail with wreaths of mist. + Below us, marble-crowned Samaria thrones + Upon her emerald hill amid the Vale + Of Barley, while the plains to northward change + Their colour like the shimmering necks of doves. + The lark springs up, with morning on her wings, + To climb her singing stairway in the blue, + And all the fields are sprinkled with her joy! + +NAAMAN: + Thy voice is magical: thy words are visions! + I must content myself with them, for now + My only hope is lost: Samaria's King + Rejects our monarch's message,--hast thou heard? + "Am I a god that I should cure a leper?" + He sends me home unhealed, with angry words, + Back to Damascus and the lingering death. + +RUAHMAH: + What matter where he sends? No god is he + To slay or make alive. Elisha bids + You come to him at Dothan, there to learn + There is a God in Israel. + +NAAMAN: + I fear + That I am grown mistrustful of all gods; + Their secret counsels are implacable. + +RUAHMAH: + Fear not! There's One who rules in righteousness + High over all. + +NAAMAN: + What knowest thou of Him? + +RUAHMAH: + Oh, I have heard,--the maid of Israel,-- + Rememberest thou? She often said her God + Was merciful and kind, and slow to wrath, + And plenteous in forgiveness, pitying us + Like as a father pitieth his children. + +NAAMAN: + If there were such a God, I'd worship Him + Forever! + +RUAHMAH: + Then make haste to hear the word + His prophet promises to speak to thee! + Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt find + Healing and peace. The light shall fill thine eyes. + Thou wilt not need my leading any more,-- + Nor me,--for thou wilt see me, all unveiled,-- + I tremble at the thought. + +NAAMAN: + Why, what is this? + Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own? + +RUAHMAH: [Turning to him and speaking in broken words.] + I am,--thy handmaid,--all and only thine,-- + The very pulses of my heart are thine! + Feel how they throb to comfort thee to-day-- + To-day! Because it is thy time of trouble. + + [She takes his hand and puts it to her forehead and + her lips, but before she can lay it upon her heart, + he draws away from her.] + +NAAMAN: + Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss,-- + How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee, + Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love + With lips that may be fatal? Tempt me not + To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait + Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled, + And I can claim thee with a joyful heart. + +RUAHMAH: [Turning away.] + Thou wilt not need me then,--and I shall be + No more than the faint echo of a song + Heard half asleep. We shall go back to where + We stood before this journey. + +NAAMAN: + Never again! + For thou art changed by some deep miracle. + The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee,-- + Art thou not changed? + +RUAHMAH: + Yea, I am changed,--and changed + Again,--bewildered,--till there's nothing clear + To me but this: I am the instrument + In an Almighty hand to rescue thee + From death. This will I do,--and afterward-- + + [A trumpet is blown without.] + + Hearken, the trumpet sounds, the chariot waits. + Away, dear lord, follow the road to light! + + +SCENE II [3] + +_The house of Elisha, upon a terraced hillside. A low stone + cottage with vine-trellises and flowers; a flight of steps, + at the foot of which is NAAMAN'S chariot. He is standing in + it; SABALLIDIN beside it. Two soldiers come down the steps._ + +FIRST SOLDIER: + We have delivered my lord's greeting and his message. + +SECOND SOLDIER: + Yes, and near lost our noses in the doing of it! For + the servant slammed the door in our faces. A most + unmannerly reception! + +FIRST SOLDIER: + But I take that as a good omen. It is a mark of holy + men to keep ill-conditioned servants. Look, the + door opens, the prophet is coming. + +SECOND SOLDIER: + No, by my head, it is that notable mark of his master's + holiness, that same lantern-jawed lout of a servant. + + [GEHAZI loiters down the steps and comes to NAAMAN + with a slight obeisance.] + +GEHAZI: + My master, the prophet of Israel, sends word to Naaman + the Syrian,--are you he?---"Go wash in Jordan seven + times and be healed." + + [GEHAZI turns and goes slowly up the steps.] + +NAAMAN: + What insolence is this? Am I a man + To be put off with surly messengers? + Has not Damascus rivers more renowned + Than this rude muddy Jordan? Crystal streams, + Abana! Pharpar! flowing smoothly through + A paradise of roses? Might I not + Have bathed in them and been restored at ease? + Come up, Saballidin, and guide me home! + +SABALLIDIN: + Bethink thee, master, shall we lose our quest + Because a servant is uncouth? The road + That seeks the mountain leads us through the vale. + The prophet's word is friendly after all; + For had it been some mighty task he set, + Thou wouldst perform it. How much rather then + This easy one? Hast thou not promised her + Who waits for thy return? Wilt thou go back + To her unhealed? + +NAAMAN: + No! not for all my pride! + I'll make myself most humble for her sake, + And stoop to anything that gives me hope + Of having her. Make haste, Saballidin, + Bring me to Jordan. I will cast myself + Into that river's turbulent embrace + A hundred times, until I save my life + Or lose it! + + [Exeunt. The light fades: musical interlude. + The light increases again with ruddy sunset + shining on the door of ELISHA'S house. The + prophet appears and looks off, shading his + eyes with his hand as he descends the steps. + Trumpet blows,--NAAMAN'S call;--sound of + horses galloping and men shouting. NAAMAN + enters joyously, followed by SABALLIDIN and + soldiers, with gifts.] + +NAAMAN: + Behold a man delivered from the grave + By thee! I rose from Jordan's waves restored + To youth and vigour, as the eagle mounts + Upon the sunbeam and renews his strength! + O mighty prophet deign to take from me + These gifts too poor to speak my gratitude; + Silver and gold and jewels, damask robes,-- + +ELISHA: [Interrupting.] + As thy soul liveth I will not receive + A gift from thee, my son! Give all to Him + Whose mercy hath redeemed thee from thy plague. + +NAAMAN: + He is the only God! I worship Him! + Grant me a portion of the blessed soil + Of this most favoured land where I have found + His mercy; in Damascus will I build + An altar to His name, and praise Him there + Morning and night. There is no other God + In all the world. + +ELISHA: + Thou needst not + This load of earth to build a shrine for Him; + Yet take it if thou wilt. But be assured + God's altar is in every loyal heart, + And every flame of love that kindles there + Ascends to Him and brightens with His praise. + There is no other God! But evil Powers + Make war against Him in the darkened world; + And many temples have been built to them. + +NAAMAN: + I know them well! Yet when my master goes + To worship in the House of Rimmon, I + Must enter with him; for he trusts me, leans + Upon my hand; and when he bows himself + I cannot help but make obeisance too,-- + But not to Rimmon! To my country's King + I'll bow in love and honour. Will the Lord + Pardon thy servant in this thing? + +ELISHA: + My son, + Peace has been granted thee. 'Tis thine to find + The only way to keep it. Go in peace. + +NAAMAN: + Thou hast not answered me,--may I bow down? + +ELISHA: + The answer must be thine. The heart that knows + The perfect peace of gratitude and love, + Walks in the light and needs no other rule. + When next thou comest into Rimmon's House, + Thy heart will tell thee how to go in peace. + +_CURTAIN._ + +[3] Note that this scene is not intended to be put upon the stage, + the effect of the action upon the drama being given at the + beginning of Act IV. + + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE I + +_The interior of NAAMAN'S tent, at night. RUAHMAH alone, sleeping + on the ground. A vision appears to her through the curtains of the + tent: ELISHA standing on the hillside at Dothan: NAAMAN, restored + to sight, comes in and kneels before him. ELISHA blesses him, and + he goes out rejoicing. The vision of the prophet turns to RUAHMAH + and lifts his hand in warning._ + +ELISHA: + Daughter of Israel, what dost thou here? + Thy prayer is granted. Naaman is healed: + Mar not true service with a selfish thought. + Nothing remains for thee to do, except + Give thanks, and go whither the Lord commands. + Obey,--obey! Ere Naaman returns + Thou must depart to thine own house in Shechem. + + [The vision vanishes.] + +RUAHMAH: [Waking and rising slowly.] + A dream, a dream, a messenger of God! + O dear and dreadful vision, art thou true? + Then am I glad with all my broken heart. + Nothing remains,--nothing remains but this,-- + Give thanks, obey, depart,--and so I do. + Farewell, my master's sword! Farewell to you, + My amulet! I lay you on the hilt + His hand shall clasp again: bid him farewell + For me, since I must look upon his face + No more for ever!--Hark, what sound was that? + + [Enter soldier hurriedly.] + +SOLDIER: + Mistress, an arméd troop, footmen and horse, + Mounting the hill! + +RUAHMAH: + My lord returns in triumph. + +SOLDIER: + Not so, for these are enemies; they march + In haste and silence, answering not our cries. + +RUAHMAH: + Our enemies? Then hold your ground,--on guard! + Fight! fight! Defend the pass, and drive them down. + + [Exit soldier. RUAHMAH draws NAAMAN'S sword from + the scabbard and hurries out of the tent. Confused + noise of fighting outside. Three or four soldiers + are driven in by a troop of men in disguise. + RUAHMAH follows: she is beaten to her knees, + and her sword is broken.] + +REZON: [Throwing aside the cloth which covers his face.] + Hold her! So, tiger-maid, we've found your lair + And trapped you. Where is Naaman, + Your master? + +RUAHMAH: [Rising, her arms held by two of REZON'S followers.] + He is far beyond your reach. + +REZON: + Brave captain! He has saved himself, the leper, + And left you here? + +RUAHMAH: + The leper is no more. + +REZON: + What mean you? + +RUAHMAH: + He has gone to meet his God. + +REZON: + Dead? Dead? Behold how Rimmon's wrath is swift! + Damascus shall be mine; I'll terrify + The King with this, and make my terms. But no! + False maid, you sweet-faced harlot, you have lied + To save him,--speak. + +RUAHMAH: + I am not what you say, + Nor have I lied, nor will I ever speak + A word to you, vile servant of a traitor-god. + +REZON: + Break off this little flute of blasphemy, + This ivory neck,--twist it, I say! + Give her a swift despatch after her leper! + But stay,--if he still lives he'll follow her, + And so we may ensnare him. Harm her not! + Bind her! Away with her to Rimmon's House! + Is all this carrion dead? There's one that moves,-- + A spear,--fasten him down! All quiet now? + Then back to our Damascus! Rimmon's face + Shall be made bright with sacrifice. + + [Exeunt, forcing RUAHMAH with them. Musical + interlude. A wounded soldier crawls from a + dark corner of the tent and finds the chain + with NAAMAN'S seal, which has fallen to the + ground in the struggle.] + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: + The signet of my lord, her amulet! + Lost, lost! Ah, noble lady,--let me die + With this upon my breast. + + [The tent is dark. Enter NAAMAN and his company + in haste, with torches.] + +NAAMAN: + What bloody work + Is here? God, let me live to punish him + Who wrought this horror! Treacherously slain + At night, by unknown hands, my brave companions: + Tsarpi, my best beloved, light of my soul, + Put out in darkness! O my broken lamp + Of life, where art thou? Nay, I cannot find her. + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: [Raising himself on his arm.] + Master! + +NAAMAN: [Kneels beside him.] + One living? Quick, a torch this way! + Lift up his head,--so,--carefully! + Courage, my friend, your captain is beside you. + Call back your soul and make report to him. + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: + Hail, captain! O my captain,--here! + +NAAMAN: + Be patient,--rest in peace,--the fight is done. + Nothing remains but render your account. + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: + They fell upon us suddenly,--we fought + Our fiercest,--every man,--our lady fought + Fiercer than all. They beat us down,--she's gone. + Rezon has carried her away a captive. See,-- + Her amulet,--I die for you, my captain. + +NAAMAN: [He gently lays the dead soldier on the ground, and rises.] + Farewell. This last report was brave; but strange + Beyond my thought! How came the High Priest here? + And what is this? my chain, my seal! But this + Has never been in Tsarpi's hand. I gave + This signet to a captive maid one night,-- + A maid of Israel. How long ago? + Ruahmah was her name,--almost forgotten! + So long ago,--how comes this token here? + What is this mystery, Saballidin? + +SABALLIDIN: + Ruahmah is her name who brought you hither. + +NAAMAN: + Where then is Tsarpi? + +SABALLIDIN: + In Damascus. + She left you when the curse of Rimmon fell,-- + Took refuge in his House,--and there she waits + Her lord's return,--Rezon's return. + +NAAMAN: + 'Tis false! + +SABALLIDIN: + The falsehood is in her. She hath been friend + With Rezon in his priestly plot to win + Assyria's favour,--friend to his design + To sell his country to enrich his temple,-- + And friend to him in more,--I will not name it. + +NAAMAN: + Nor will I credit it. Impossible! + +SABALLIDIN: + Did she not plead with you against the war, + Counsel surrender, seek to break your will? + +NAAMAN: + She did not love my work, a soldier's task. + She never seemed to be at one with me + Until I was a leper. + +SABALLIDIN: + From whose hand + Did you receive the sacred cup? + +NAAMAN: + From hers. + +SABALLIDIN: + And from that hour the curse began to work. + +NAAMAN: + But did she not have pity when she saw + Me smitten? Did she not beseech the King + For letters and a guard to make this journey? + Has she not been the fountain of my hope, + My comforter and my most faithful guide + In this adventure of the dark? All this + Is proof of perfect love that would have shared + A leper's doom rather than give me up. + Can I doubt her who dared to love like this? + +SABALLIDIN: + O master, doubt her not,--but know her name; + Ruahmah! It was she alone who wrought + This wondrous work of love. She won the King + To furnish forth this company. She led + Our march, kept us in heart, fought off despair, + Watched over you as if you were her child, + Prepared your food, your cup, with her own hands, + Sang you asleep at night, awake at dawn,-- + +NAAMAN: [Interrupting.] + Enough! I do remember every hour + Of that sweet comradeship! And now her voice + Wakens the echoes in my lonely breast. + Shall I not see her, thank her, speak her name? + Ruahmah! Let me live till I have looked + Into her eyes and called her my Ruahmah! + + [To his soldiers.] + + Away! away! I burn to take the road + That leads me back to Rimmon's House,-- + But not to bow,--by God, never to bow! + + +SCENE II + +TIME: _Three days later_ + +_Inner court of the House of Rimmon; a temple with huge pillars at + each side. In the right foreground the seat of the King; at the + left, of equal height, the seat of the High Priest. In the + background a broad flight of steps, rising to a curtain of cloudy + gray, embroidered with two gigantic hands holding thunderbolts. + The temple is in half darkness at first. Enter KHAMMA and NUBTA, + robed as Kharimati, or religious dancers, in gowns of black gauze + with yellow embroideries and mantles._ + +KHAMMA: + All is ready for the rites of worship; our lady will play + a great part in them. She has put on her Tyrian robes, + and all her ornaments. + +NUBTA: + That is a sure sign of a religious purpose. She is most + devout, our lady Tsarpi! + +KHAMMA: + A favourite of Rimmon, too! The High Priest has assured + her of it. He is a great man,--next to the King, now + that Naaman is gone. + +NUBTA: + But if Naaman should come back, healed of the leprosy? + +KHAMMA: + How can he come back? The Hebrew slave that went away + with him, when they caught her, said that he was dead. + The High Priest has shut her up in the prison of the + temple, accusing her of her master's death. + +NUBTA: + Yet I think he does not believe it, for I heard him telling + our mistress what to do if Naaman should return. + +KHAMMA: + What, then? + +NUBTA: + She will claim him as her husband. Was she not wedded to + him before the god? That is a sacred bond. Only the High + Priest can loose it. She will keep her hold on Naaman + for the sake of the House of Rimmon. A wife knows her + husband's secrets, she can tell-- + + [Enter SHUMAKIM, with his flagon, walking unsteadily.] + +KHAMMA: + Hush! here comes the fool Shumakim. He is never sober. + +SHUMAKIM: [Laughing.] + Are there two of you? I see two, but that is no proof. + I think there is only one, but beautiful enough for + two. What were you talking to yourself about, fairest + one! + +KHAMMA: + About the lady Tsarpi, fool, and what she would do if + her husband returned. + +SHUMAKIM: + Fie! fie! That is no talk for an innocent fool to hear. + Has she a husband? + +NUBTA: + You know very well that she is the wife of Lord Naaman. + +SHUMAKIM: + I remember that she used to wear his name and his jewels. + But I thought he had exchanged her,--for a leprosy. + +KHAMMA: + You must have heard that he went away to Samaria to look + for healing. Some say that he died on the journey; but + others say he has been cured, and is on his way home + to his wife. + +SHUMAKIM: + It may be, for this is a mad world, and men never know + when they are well off,--except us fools. But he must + come soon if he would find his wife as he parted from + her,--or the city where he left it. The Assyrians have + returned with a greater army, and this time they will + make an end of us. There is no Naaman now, and the Bull + will devour Damascus like a bunch of leeks, flowers and + all,--flowers and all, my double-budded fair one! Are + you not afraid? + +NUBTA: + We belong to the House of Rimmon. He will protect us. + +SHUMAKIM: + What? The mighty one who hides behind the curtain there, + and tells his secrets to Rezon? No doubt he will take + care of you, and of himself. Whatever game is played, + the gods never lose. But for the protection of the + common people and the rest of us fools, I would rather + have Naaman at the head of an army than all the sacred + images between here and Babylon. + +KHAMMA: + You are a wicked old man. You mock the god. He will + punish you. + +SHUMAKIM: [Bitterly.] + How can he punish me? Has he not already made me a fool? + Hark, here comes my brother the High Priest, and my + brother the King. Rimmon made us all; but nobody knows + who made Rimmon, except the High Priest; and he will + never tell. + +[Gongs and cymbals sound. Enter REZON with priests, and the + King with courtiers. They take their seats. A throng of Khali + and Kharimati come in, TSARPI presiding; a sacred dance is + performed with torches, burning incense, and chanting, in + which TSARPI leads.] + + CHANT + + _Hail, mighty Rimmon, ruler of the whirl-storm, + Hail, shaker of mountains, breaker-down of forests, + Hail, thou who roarest terribly in the darkness, + Hail, thou whose arrows flame across the heavens! + Hail, great destroyer, lord of flood and tempest, + In thine anger almighty, in thy wrath eternal, + Thou who delightest in ruin, maker of desolations, + Immeru, Addu, Berku, Rimmon! + See we tremble before thee, low we bow at thine altar, + Have mercy upon us, be favourable unto us, + Save us from our enemy, accept our sacrifice, + Barku, Immeru, Addu, Rimmon!_ + + [Silence follows, all bowing down.] + +REZON: + O King, last night the counsel from above + Was given in answer to our divination. + Ambassadors must go forthwith to crave + Assyria's pardon, and a second offer + Of the same terms of peace we did reject + Not long ago. + +BENHADAD: + Dishonour! Yet I see + No other way! Assyria will refuse, + Or make still harder terms. Disaster, shame + For this gray head, and ruin for Damascus! + +REZON: + Yet may we trust Rimmon will favour us, + If we adhere devoutly to his worship. + He will incline his brother-god, the Bull, + To spare us, if we supplicate him now + With costly gifts. Therefore I have prepared + A sacrifice: Rimmon shall be well pleased + With the red blood that bathes his knees to-night! + +BENHADAD: + My mind is dark with doubt,--I do forebode + Some horror! Let me go,--I am an old man,-- + If Naaman my captain were alive! + But he is dead,--the glory is departed! + + [He rises, trembling, to leave the throne. Trumpet + sounds,--NAAMAN'S call;--enter NAAMAN, followed + by soldiers; he kneels at the foot of the throne.] + +BENHADAD: [Half-whispering.] + Art thou a ghost escaped from Allatu? + How didst thou pass the seven doors of death? + O noble ghost I am afraid of thee, + And yet I love thee,--let me hear thy voice! + +NAAMAN: + No ghost, my King, but one who lives to serve + Thee and Damascus with his heart and sword + As in the former days. The only God + Has healed my leprosy: my life is clean + To offer to my country and my King. + +BENHADAD: [Starting toward him.] + O welcome to thy King! Thrice welcome! + +REZON: [Leaving his seat and coming toward NAAMAN.] + Stay! + The leper must appear before the priest, + The only one who can pronounce him clean. + + [NAAMAN turns; they stand looking each other in the face.] + + Yea,--thou art cleansed: Rimmon hath pardoned thee,-- + In answer to the daily prayers of her + Whom he restores to thine embrace,--thy wife. + + [TSARPI comes slowly toward NAAMAN.] + +NAAMAN: + From him who rules this House will I receive + Nothing! I seek no pardon from his priest, + No wife of mine among his votaries! + +TSARPI: [Holding out her hands.] + Am I not yours? Will you renounce our vows? + +NAAMAN: + The vows were empty,--never made you mine + In aught but name. A wife is one who shares + Her husband's thought, incorporates his heart + With hers by love, and crowns him with her trust. + She is God's remedy for loneliness, + And God's reward for all the toil of life. + This you have never been to me,--and so + I give you back again to Rimmon's House + Where you belong. Claim what you will of mine,-- + Not me! I do renounce you,--or release you,-- + According to the law. If you demand + A further cause than what I have declared, + I will unfold it fully to the King. + +REZON: [Interposing hurriedly.] + No need of that! This duteous lady yields + To your caprice as she has ever done: + She stands a monument of loyalty + And woman's meekness. + +NAAMAN: + Let her stand for that! + Adorn your temple with her piety! + But you in turn restore to me the treasure + You stole at midnight from my tent. + +REZON: + What treasure! I have stolen none from you. + +NAAMAN: + The very jewel of my soul,--Ruahmah! + My King, the captive maid of Israel, + To whom thou didst commit my broken life + With letters to Samaria,--my light, + My guide, my saviour in this pilgrimage,-- + Dost thou remember? + +BENHADAD: + I recall the maid,-- + But dimly,--for my mind is old and weary, + She was a fearless maid, I trusted her + And gave thee to her charge. Where is she now? + +NAAMAN: + This robber fell upon my camp by night,-- + While I was with Elisha at the Jordan,-- + Slaughtered my soldiers, carried off the maid, + And holds her somewhere in imprisonment. + O give this jewel back to me, my King, + And I will serve thee with a grateful heart + For ever. I will fight for thee, and lead + Thine armies on to glorious victory + Over all foes! Thou shalt no longer fear + The host of Asshur, for thy throne shall stand + Encompassed with a wall of dauntless hearts, + And founded on a mighty people's love, + And guarded by the God of righteousness. + +BENHADAD: + I feel the flame of courage at thy breath + Leap up among the ashes of despair. + Thou hast returned to save us! Thou shalt have + The maid; and thou shalt lead my host again! + Priest, I command you give her back to him. + +REZON: + O master, I obey thy word as thou + Hast ever been obedient to the voice + Of Rimmon. Let thy fiery captain wait + Until the sacrifice has been performed, + And he shall have the jewel that he claims. + Must we not first placate the city's god + With due allegiance, keep the ancient faith, + And pay our homage to the Lord of Wrath? + +BENHADAD: [Sinking back upon his throne in fear.] + I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House,-- + And lo, these many years I worship him! + My thoughts are troubled,--I am very old, + But still a King! O Naaman, be patient! + Priest, let the sacrifice be offered. + + [The High Priest lifts his rod. Gongs and cymbals + sound. The curtain is rolled back, disclosing + the image of Rimmon; a gigantic and hideous idol, + with a cruel human face, four horns, the mane of + a lion, and huge paws stretched in front of him + enclosing a low altar of black stone. RUAHMAH + stands on the altar, chained, her arms are bare + and folded on her breast. The people prostrate + themselves in silence, with signs of astonishment + and horror.] + +REZON: + Behold the sacrifice! Bow down, bow down! + +NAAMAN: [Stabbing him.] + Bow thou, black priest! Down,--down to hell! + Ruahmah! do not die! I come to thee. + + [NAAMAN rushes toward her, attacked by the priests, + crying "Sacrilege! Kill him!" But the soldiers + stand on the steps and beat them back. He springs + upon the altar and clasps her by the hand. Tumult + and confusion. The King rises and speaks with a + loud voice, silence follows.] + +BENHADAD: + Peace, peace! The King commands all weapons down! + O Naaman, what wouldst thou do? Beware + Lest thou provoke the anger of a god. + +NAAMAN: + There is no God but one, the Merciful, + Who gave this perfect woman to my soul + That I might learn through her to worship Him, + And know the meaning of immortal Love. + +BENHADAD: [Agitated.] + Yet she is consecrated, bound, and doomed + To sacrificial death; but thou art sworn + To live and lead my host,--Hast thou not sworn? + +NAAMAN: + Only if thou wilt keep thy word to me! + Break with this idol of iniquity + Whose shadow makes a darkness in the land; + Give her to me who gave me back to thee; + And I will lead thine army to renown + And plant thy banners on the hill of triumph. + But if she dies, I die with her, defying Rimmon. + + [Cries of "Spare them! Release her! Give us back + our Captain!" and "Sacrilege! Let them die!" Then + silence, all turning toward the King.] + +BENHADAD: + Is this the choice? Must we destroy the bond + Of ancient faith, or slay the city's living hope! + I am an old, old man,--and yet the King! + Must I decide?--O let me ponder it! + + [His head sinks upon his breast. All stand eagerly + looking at him.] + +NAAMAN: + Ruahmah, my Ruahmah! I have come + To thee at last! And art thou satisfied? + +RUAHMAH: [Looking into his face.] + Belovéd, my belovéd, I am glad + Of all, and glad for ever, come what may. + Nothing can harm me,--since my lord is come! + + + + +APPENDIX + +CARMINA FESTIVA + + + +THE LITTLE-NECK CLAM + +A modern verse-sequence, showing how a native American subject, +strictly realistic, may be treated in various manners adapted +to the requirements of different magazines, thus combining +Art-for-Art's-Sake with Writing-for-the-Market. Read at the +First Dinner of the American Periodical Publishers' Association, +in Washington, April, 1904. + + +I + +THE ANTI-TRUST CLAM + +For _McClure's Magazine_ + + The clam that once, on Jersey's banks, + Was like the man who dug it, free, + Now slave-like thro' the market clanks + In chains of corporate tyranny. + + The Standard Fish-Trust of New York + Holds every clam-bank in control; + And like base Beef and menial Pork, + The free-born Clam has lost its soul. + + No more the bivalve treads the sands + In freedom's rapture, free from guilt: + It follows now the harsh commands + Of Morgiman and Rockabilt. + + Rise, freemen, rise! Your wrath is just! + Call on the Sherman Act to dam + The floods of this devouring Trust, + And liberate the fettered Clam. + + +II + +THE WHITMANIAC CLAM + +For the _Bookman_ + + Not Dante when he wandered by the river Arno, + Not Burns who plowed the banks and braes of bonnie Ayr, + Not even Shakspere on the shores of Avon,--ah, no! + Not one of those great bards did taste true Poet's Fare. + + But Whitman, loafing in Long Island and New Jersey, + Found there the sustenance of mighty ode and psalm, + And while his rude emotions swam around in verse, he + Fed chiefly on the wild, impassioned, sea-born clam. + + Thus in his work we feel the waves' bewildering motion, + And winds from mighty mud-flats, weird and wild: + His clam-filled bosom answered to the voice of ocean, + And rose and fell responsively with every tide. + + +III + +IL MERCATORE ITALIANO DELLA CLAMMA + +For the _Century Magazine_ + + "Clam O! Fres' Clam!" How strange it sounds and sweet, + The Dago's cry along the New York street! + "Dago" we call him, like the thoughtless crowd; + And yet this humble man may well be proud + To hail from Petrarch's land, Boccaccio's home,-- + Firenze, Gubbio, Venezia, Rome,-- + From fair Italia, whose enchanted soil + Transforms the lowly cotton-seed to olive-oil. + + To me his chant, with alien accent sung, + Brings back an echo of great Virgil's tongue: + It seems to cry against the city's woe, + In liquid Latin syllables,--_Clamo_! + As thro' the crowded street his cart he jams + And cries aloud, ah, think of more than clams! + Receive his secret plaint with pity warm, + And grant Italia's plea for Tenement-House Reform! + + +IV + +THE SOCIAL CLAM + +For the _Smart Set_ + + Fair Phyllis is another's bride: + Therefore I like to sit beside + Her at a very smart set dinner, + And whisper love, and try to win her. + + The little-necks,--in number six,-- + That from their pearly shells she picks + And swallows whole,--ah, is it selfish + To wish my heart among those shell-fish? + + "But Phyllis is another's wife; + And if she should absorb thy life + 'Twould leave thy bosom vacant."--Well, + I'd keep at least the empty shell! + + +V + +THE RECREANT CLAM + +For the _Outlook_ + + Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze, + Because thy slothful spirit doth refuse + The bliss of battle and the strain of strife. + Rise, craven clam, and lead the strenuous life! + + + +A FAIRY TALE + +For the Mark Twain Dinner, December 5, 1905 + + + Some three-score years and ten ago + A prince was born at Florida, Mo.; + And though he came _incognito_, + With just the usual yells of woe, + The watchful fairies seemed to know + Precisely what the row meant; + For when he was but five days old, + (December fifth as I've been told,) + They pattered through the midnight cold, + And came around his crib, to hold + A "Council of Endowment." + + "I give him Wit," the eldest said, + And stooped above the little bed, + To touch his forehead round and red. + "Within this bald, unfurnished head, + Where wild luxuriant locks shall spread + And wave in years hereafter, + I kindle now the lively spark, + That still shall flash by day and dark, + And everywhere he goes shall mark + His way with light and laughter." + + The fairies laughed to think of it + That such a rosy, wrinkled bit + Of flesh should be endowed with Wit! + But something serious seemed to hit + The mind of one, as if a fit + Of fear had come upon her. + "I give him Truth," she quickly cried, + "That laughter may not lead aside + To paths where scorn and falsehood hide,-- + I give him Truth and Honour!" + + "I give him Love," exclaimed the third; + And as she breathed the mystic word, + I know not if the baby heard, + But softly in his dream he stirred, + And twittered like a little bird, + And stretched his hands above him. + The fairy's gift was sealed and signed + With kisses twain the deed to bind: + "A heart of love to human-kind, + And human-kind to love him!" + + "Now stay your giving!" cried the Queen. + "These gifts are passing rich I ween; + And if reporters should be mean + Enough to spy upon this scene, + 'Twould make all other babies green + With envy at the rumour. + Yet since I love this child, forsooth, + I'll mix your gifts, Wit, Love and Truth, + With spirits of Immortal Youth, + And call the mixture Humour!" + + The fairies vanished with their glittering train; + But here's the Prince with all their gifts,--_Mark Twain_. + + + +THE BALLAD OF THE SOLEMN ASS + +Recited at the Century Club, New York: Twelfth Night. 1906 + + + Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times, + You've made a Poet Laureate, now you must hear his rhymes. + Extend your ears and I'll respond by shortening up my tale:-- + Man cannot live by verse alone, he must have cakes and ale. + + So while you wait for better things and muse on schnapps and salad, + I'll try my Pegasus his wings and sing a little ballad: + A legend of your ancestors, the Wise Men of the East, + Who brought among their baggage train a quaint and curious beast. + + Their horses were both swift and strong, and we should think it lucky + If we could buy, by telephone, such horses from Kentucky; + Their dromedaries paced along, magnificent and large, + Their camels were as stately as if painted by La Farge. + + But this amazing little ass was never satisfied, + He made more trouble every day than all the rest beside: + His ears were long, his legs were short, his eyes were bleared and dim, + But nothing in the wide, wide world was good enough for him. + + He did not like the way they went, but lifted up his voice + And said that any other way would be a better choice. + He braced his feet and stood his ground, and made the wise men wait, + While with his heels at all around he did recalcitrate. + + It mattered not how fair the land through which the road might run, + He found new causes for complaint with every Morning Sun: + And when the shades of twilight fell and all the world grew nappy, + They tied him to his Evening Post, but still he was not happy. + + He thought his load was far too large, he thought his food was bad, + He thought the Star a poor affair, he thought the Wise Men mad: + He did not like to hear them laugh,--'twas childish to be jolly; + And if perchance they sang a hymn,--'twas sentimental folly! + + So day by day this little beast performed his level best + To make their life, in work and play, a burden to the rest: + And when they laid them down at night, he would not let them sleep, + But criticized the Universe with hee-haws loud and deep. + + One evening, as the Wise Men sat before their fire-lit tent, + And ate and drank and talked and sang, in grateful merriment, + The solemn donkey butted in, in his most solemn way, + And broke the happy meeting up with a portentous bray. + + "Now by my head," Balthazar said (his real name was Choate), + "We've had about enough of this! I'll put it to the vote. + I move the donkey be dismissed; let's turn him out to grass, + And travel on our cheerful way, without the solemn ass." + + The vote was aye! and with a whack the Wise Men drove him out; + But still he wanders up and down, and all the world about; + You'll know him by his long, sad face and supercilious ways, + And likewise by his morning kicks and by his evening brays. + + But while we sit at Eagle Roost and make our Twelfth Night cheer, + Full well we know the solemn ass will not disturb us here: + For pleasure rules the roost to-night, by order of the King, + And every one must play his part, and laugh, and likewise sing. + + The road of life is long, we know, and often hard to find, + And yet there's many a pleasant turn for men of cheerful mind: + We've done our day's work honestly, we've earned the right to rest, + We'll take a cup of friendship now and spice it with a jest. + + A silent health to absent friends, their memories are bright! + A hearty health to all who keep the feast with us to-night! + A health to dear Centuria, oh, may she long abide! + A health, a health to all the world,--and the solemn ass, _outside_! + + + +A BALLAD OF SANTA CLAUS + +For the St. Nicholas Society of New York + + + Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira, + I find the one whose name we hold, St. Nicholas of Myra: + The best-beloved name, I guess, in sacred nomenclature,-- + The patron-saint of helpfulness, and friendship, and good-nature. + + A bishop and a preacher too, a famous theologian, + He stood against the Arian crew and fought them like a Trojan: + But when a poor man told his need and begged an alms in trouble, + He never asked about his creed, but quickly gave him double. + + Three pretty maidens, so they say, were longing to be married; + But they were paupers, lack-a-day, and so the suitors tarried. + St. Nicholas gave each maid a purse of golden ducats chinking, + And then, for better or for worse, they wedded quick as winking. + + Once, as he sailed, a storm arose; wild waves the ship surrounded; + The sailors wept and tore their clothes, and shrieked "We'll all be + drownded!" + St. Nicholas never turned a hair; serenely shone his halo; + He simply said a little prayer, and all the billows lay low. + + The wicked keeper of an inn had three small urchins taken, + And cut them up in a pickle-bin, and salted them for bacon. + St. Nicholas came and picked them out, and put their limbs together,-- + They lived, they leaped, they gave a shout, "St. Nicholas forever!" + + And thus it came to pass, you know, that maids without a nickel, + And sailor-lads when tempest blow, and children in a pickle, + And every man that's fatherly, and every kindly matron, + In choosing saints would all agree to call St. Nicholas patron. + + He comes again at Christmas-time and stirs us up to giving; + He rings the merry bells that chime good-will to all the living; + He blesses every friendly deed and every free donation; + He sows the secret, golden seed of love through all creation. + + Our fathers drank to Santa Claus, the sixth of each December, + And still we keep his feast because his virtues we remember. + Among the saintly ranks he stood, with smiling human features, + And said, "_Be good! But not too good to love your fellow-creatures!_" + +December 6, 1907. + + + +ARS AGRICOLARIS + +An Ode for the "Farmer's Dinner," University Club, New York, +January 23, 1913 + + + All hail, ye famous Farmers! + Ye vegetable-charmers, + Who know the art of making barren earth + Smile with prolific mirth + And bring forth twins or triplets at a birth! + Ye scientific fertilizers of the soil, + And horny-handed sons of toil! + To-night from all your arduous cares released, + With manly brows no longer sweat-impearled, + Ye hold your annual feast, + And like the Concord farmers long ago, + Ye meet above the "Bridge" below, + And draw the cork heard round the world! + + What memories are yours! What tales + Of triumph have your tongues rehearsed, + Telling how ye have won your first + Potatoes from the stubborn mead, + (Almost as many as ye sowed for seed!) + And how the luscious cabbages and kails + Have bloomed before you in their bed + At seven dollars a head! + And how your onions took a prize + For bringing tears into the eyes + Of a hard-hearted cook! And how ye slew + The Dragon Cut-worm at a stroke! + And how ye broke, + Routed, and put to flight the horrid crew + Of vile potato-bugs and Hessian flies! + And how ye did not quail + Before th' invading armies of San José Scale, + But met them bravely with your little pail + Of poison, which ye put upon each tail + O' the dreadful beasts and made their courage fail! + And how ye did acquit yourselves like men + In fields of agricultural strife, and then, + Like generous warriors, sat you down at ease + And gently to your gardener said, "Let us have _Pease_!" + + But _were_ there Pease? Ah, no, dear Farmers, no! + The course of Nature is not ordered so. + For when we want a vegetable most, + She holds it back; + And when we boast + To our week-endly friends + Of what we'll give them on our farm, alack, + Those things the old dam, Nature, never sends. + + O Pease in bottles, Sparrow-grass in jars, + How often have ye saved from scars + Of shame, and deep embarrassment, + The disingenuous farmer-gent, + To whom some wondering guest has cried, + "How _do_ you raise such Pease and Sparrow-grass?" + Whereat the farmer-gent has not denied + The compliment, but smiling has replied, + "To raise such things you must have lots of glass." + + From wiles like these, true Farmers, hold aloof; + Accept no praise unless you have the proof. + If niggard Nature should withhold the green + And sugary Pea, welcome the humble Bean. + Even the easy Radish, and the Beet, + If grown by your own toil are extra sweet. + Let malefactors of great wealth and banker-felons + Rejoice in foreign artichokes, imported melons; + But you, my Farmers, at your frugal board + Spread forth the fare your Sabine Farms afford. + Say to Mæcenas, when he is your guest, + "No peaches! try this turnip, 'tis my best." + Thus shall ye learn from labors in the field + What honesty a farmer's life may yield, + And like G. Washington in early youth, + Though cherries fail, produce a crop of truth. + + But think me not too strict, O followers of the plough; + Some place for fiction in your lives I would allow. + In January when the world is drear, + And bills come in, and no results appear, + And snow-storms veil the skies, + And ice the streamlet clogs, + Then may you warm your heart with pleasant lies + And revel in the seedsmen's catalogues! + What visions and what dreams are these + Of cauliflower obese,-- + Of giant celery, taller than a mast,-- + Of strawberries + Like red pincushions, round and vast,-- + Of succulent and spicy gumbo,-- + Of cantaloupes, as big as Jumbo,-- + Of high-strung beans without the strings,-- + And of a host of other wild, romantic things! + + Why, then, should Doctor Starr declare + That modern habits mental force impair? + And why should H. Marquand complain + That jokes as good as his will never come again? + And why should Bridges wear a gloomy mien + About the lack of fiction for his Magazine? + The seedsman's catalogue is all we need + To stir our dull imaginations + To new creations, + And lead us, by the hand + Of Hope, into a fairy-land. + + So dream, my friendly Farmers, as you will; + And let your fancy all your garners fill + With wondrous crops; but always recollect + That Nature gives us less than we expect. + Scorn not the city where you earn the wealth + That, spent upon your farms, renews your health; + And tell your wife, whene'er the bills have shocked her, + "A country-place is cheaper than a doctor." + May roses bloom for you, and may you find + Your richest harvest in a tranquil mind. + +[Transcriber's note: "fertilizers" above was "fetilizers" +in the original.] + + + +ANGLER'S FIRESIDE SONG + + + Oh, the angler's path is a very merry way, + And his road through the world is bright; + For he lives with the laughing stream all day, + And he lies by the fire at night. + + Sing hey nonny, ho nonny + And likewise well-a-day! + The angler's life is a very jolly life + And that's what the anglers say! + + Oh, the angler plays for the pleasure of the game, + And his creel may be full or light, + But the tale that he tells will be just the same + When he lies by the fire at night. + + Sing hey nonny, ho nonny + And likewise well-a-day! + We love the fire and the music of the lyre, + And that's what the anglers say! + +To the San Francisco Fly-Casting Club, April, 1913. + + + +HOW SPRING COMES TO SHASTA JIM + + + I never seen no "red gods"; I dunno wot's a "lure"; + But if it's sumpin' takin', then Spring has got it sure; + An' it doesn't need no Kiplins, ner yet no London Jacks, + To make up guff about it, w'ile settin' in their shacks. + + It's sumpin' very simple 'at happens in the Spring, + But it changes all the lookin's of every blessed thing; + The buddin' woods look bigger, the mounting twice as high, + But the house looks kindo smaller, tho I couldn't tell ye why. + + It's cur'ous wot a show-down the month of April makes, + Between the reely livin', an' the things 'at's only fakes! + Machines an' barns an' buildin's, they never give no sign; + But the livin' things look lively w'en Spring is on the line. + + She doesn't come too suddin, ner she doesn't come too slow; + Her gaits is some cayprishus, an' the next ye never know,-- + A single-foot o' sunshine, a buck o' snow er hail,-- + But don't be disapp'inted, fer Spring ain't goin' ter fail. + + She's loopin' down the hillside,--the driffs is fadin' out. + She's runnin' down the river,--d'ye see them risin' trout? + She's loafin' down the canyon,--the squaw-bed's growin' blue, + An' the teeny Johnny-jump-ups is jest a-peekin' thru. + + A thousan' miles o' pine-trees, with Douglas firs between, + Is waitin' fer her fingers to freshen up their green; + With little tips o' brightness the firs 'ill sparkle thick, + An' every yaller pine-tree, a giant candle-stick! + + The underbrush is risin' an' spreadin' all around, + Jest like a mist o' greenness 'at hangs above the ground; + A million manzanitas 'ill soon be full o' pink; + So saddle up, my sonny,--it's time to ride, I think! + + We'll ford er swim the river, becos there ain't no bridge; + We'll foot the gulches careful, an' lope along the ridge; + We'll take the trail to Nowhere, an' travel till we tire, + An' camp beneath a pine-tree, an' sleep beside the fire. + + We'll see the blue-quail chickens, an' hear 'em pipin' clear; + An' p'raps we'll sight a brown-bear, er else a bunch o' deer; + But nary a heathen goddess or god 'ill meet our eyes; + For why? There isn't any! They're jest a pack o' lies! + + Oh, wot's the use o' "red gods," an' "Pan," an' all that stuff? + The natcheral facts o' Springtime is wonderful enuff! + An' if there's Someone made 'em, I guess He understood, + To be alive in Springtime would make a man feel good. + +California, 1913. + + + +A BUNCH OF TROUT-FLIES + +For Archie Rutledge + + + Here's a half-a-dozen flies, + Just about the proper size + For the trout of Dickey's Run,-- + Luck go with them every one! + + Dainty little feathered beauties, + Listen now, and learn your duties: + Not to tangle in the box; + Not to catch on logs or rocks, + Boughs that wave or weeds that float, + Nor in the angler's "pants" or coat! + Not to lure the glutton frog + From his banquet in the bog; + Nor the lazy chub to fool, + Splashing idly round the pool; + Nor the sullen hornèd pout + From the mud to hustle out! + + None of this vulgarian crew, + Dainty flies, is game for you. + Darting swiftly through the air + Guided by the angler's care, + Light upon the flowing stream + Like a wingèd fairy dream; + Float upon the water dancing, + Through the lights and shadows glancing, + Till the rippling current brings you, + And with quiet motion swings you, + Where a speckled beauty lies + Watching you with hungry eyes. + + Here's your game and here's your prize! + Hover near him, lure him, tease him, + Do your very best to please him, + Dancing on the water foamy, + Like the frail and fair Salome, + Till the monarch yields at last; + Rises, and you have him fast! + Then remember well your duty,-- + Do not lose, but land, your booty; + For the finest fish of all is + _Salvelinus Fontinalis._ + + So, you plumed illusions, go, + Let my comrade Archie know + Every day he goes a-fishing + I'll be with him in well-wishing. + Most of all when lunch is laid + In the dappled orchard shade, + With Will, Corinne, and Dixie too, + Sitting as we used to do + Round the white cloth on the grass + While the lazy hours pass, + And the brook's contented tune + Lulls the sleepy afternoon,-- + Then's the time my heart will be + With that pleasant company! + +June 17, 1913. + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + + A deeper crimson in the rose, + A fir-tree standeth lonely + A flawless cup: how delicate and fine + A little fir grew in the midst of the wood + A mocking question! Britain's answer came + A silent world,--yet full of vital joy + A silken curtain veils the skies, + A tear that trembles for a little while + Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land, + Afterthought of summer's bloom! + Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, + All along the Brazos River, + All day long in the city's canyon-street, + All hail, ye famous Farmers! + All night long, by a distant bell + All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, + Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira + At dawn in silence moves the mighty stream, + At sunset, when the rosy light was dying + + Children of the elemental mother, + "Clam O! Fres' Clam!" How strange it sounds and sweet, + Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times, + Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death! + Come home, my love, come home! + Could every time-worn heart but see Thee once again, + Count not the cost of honour to the dead! + + Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that wild night + Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days + Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America, + _Deeds not Words_: I say so too! + Deep in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing; + "Do you give thanks for this?--or that?" No, God be thanked + Do you remember, father,-- + Does the snow fall at sea? + + Ere thou sleepest gently lay + + Fair Phyllis is another's bride: + Fair Roslin Chapel, how divine + Far richer than a thornless rose + Flowers rejoice when night is done, + For that thy face is fair I love thee not: + Four things a man must learn to do + From the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendours of the moon, + Furl your sail, my little boatie: + + Give us a name to fill the mind + Glory of architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard, + God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- + Great Nature had a million words, + + Hear a word that Jesus spake + Heart of France for a hundred years, + Her eyes are like the evening air, + Here's a half-a-dozen flies, + Here the great heart of France, + Home, for my heart still calls me: + Honour the brave who sleep + Hours fly, + How blind the toil that burrows like the mole, + "How can I tell," Sir Edmund said, + _How long is the night, brother,_ + How long the echoes love to play + + I count that friendship little worth + I envy every flower that blows + I have no joy in strife, + I love thine inland seas, + I never seen no "red gods"; I dunno wot's a "lure"; + I never thought again to hear + I put my heart to school + I read within a poet's book + I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer + I would not even ask my heart to say + If all the skies were sunshine, + If I have erred in showing all my heart, + If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage: + If on the closed curtain of my sight + In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour and riches and + confusion, + In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, + In robes of Tynan blue the King was drest, + In the blue heaven the clouds will come and go, + In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + Into the dust of the making of man, + In warlike pomp, with banners flowing, + It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!) + It's little I can tell + It was my lot of late to travel far + + "Joy is a Duty,"--so with golden lore + Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, + Just to give up, and trust + + Knight-Errant of the Never-ending Quest, + + Let me but do my work from day to day, + Let me but feel thy look's embrace, + "Lights out" along the land, + Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, + Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock, + Lord Jesus, Thou hast known + Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds, + Long had I loved this "Attic shape," the brede + Long, long ago I heard a little song, + Long, long, long the trail + Lover of beauty, walking on the height + Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze, + + March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay! + Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed, + + Not Dante when he wandered by the river Arno, + Not to the swift, the race: + Now in the oak the sap of life is welling, + + O dark the night and dim the day + O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea, + O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand + O mighty river! strong, eternal Will, + O Mother mountains! billowing far to the snow-lands, + O Music hast thou only heard + O who will walk a mile with me + O wonderful! How liquid clear + O youngest of the giant brood + Oh, gallantly they fared forth in khaki and in blue, + Oh, quick to feel the lightest touch + Oh, the angler's path is a very merry way, + Oh, was I born too soon, my dear, or were you born too late, + Oh, what do you know of the song, my dear, + Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, + Once, only once, I saw it clear,-- + One sail in sight upon the lonely sea, + Only a little shrivelled seed, + + Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- + + Read here, O friend unknown, + Remember, when the timid light + + Saints are God's flowers, fragrant souls + Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul: + Ship after ship, and every one with a high-resounding name, + Sign of the Love Divine + Some three-score years and ten ago + Soul of a soldier in a poet's frame, + Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand + Stand fast, Great Britain! + + The British bard who looked on Eton's walls, + The clam that once, on Jersey's banks, + The cornerstone in Truth is laid, + The cradle I have made for thee + The day returns by which we date our years: + The fire of love was burning, yet so low + The gabled roofs of old Malines + The glory of ships is an old, old song, + The grief that is but feigning, + The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + The laggard winter ebbed so slow + The land was broken in despair, + The melancholy gift Aurora gained + The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring, + The mountains that inclose the vale + The nymphs a shepherd took + The other night I had a dream, most clear + The record of a faith sublime, + The river of dreams runs quietly down + The roar of the city is low, + The rough expanse of democratic sea + The shadow by my finger cast + The tide, flows in to the harbour,-- + The time will come when I no more can play + The winds of war-news change and veer: + The worlds in which we live at heart are one, + There are many kinds of anger, as many kinds of fire: + There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light, + There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, + There is a bird I know so well, + They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + This is the soldier brave enough to tell + This is the window's message, + Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, + Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair + "Through many a land your journey ran, + 'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down + To thee, plain hero of a rugged race, + Two dwellings, Peace, are thine + Two hundred years of blessing I record + "Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe: + 'Twas far away and long ago, + + Under the cloud of world-wide war, + + Waking from tender sleep, + We men that go down for a livin' in ships to the sea,-- + We met on Nature's stage, + What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + What is Fortune, what is Fame? + What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee? + What shall I give for thee, + What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night, + When down the stair at morning + When May bedecks the naked trees + When Stävoren town was in its prime + When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark + When tulips bloom in Union Square, + When to the garden of untroubled thought + Where's your kingdom, little king? + Who knows how many thousand years ago + Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, + Who watched the worn-out Winter die? + Winter on Mount Shasta, + With eager heart and will on fire, + With memories old and wishes new + With two bright eyes, my star, my love + Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls + + Ye gods of battle, lords of fear, + Yes, it was like you to forget, + You dare to say with perjured lips, + You only promised me a single hour: + Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers; + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Poems of Henry Van Dyke, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF HENRY VAN DYKE *** + +***** This file should be named 16229-8.txt or 16229-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/2/16229/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Daniel Emerson Griffith and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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} + /* Ensure anchors work by positioning them all in the same way */ + a[name] { position:absolute; } + + /* ]]> */ + --> + </style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Poems of Henry Van Dyke, by Henry Van Dyke + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poems of Henry Van Dyke + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Release Date: July 7, 2005 [EBook #16229] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF HENRY VAN DYKE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Daniel Emerson Griffith and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<table summary=""><tr><td class="works"> +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="pagei" id="pagei" title="i"></a> +BY HENRY VAN DYKE</h2> +<ul> +<li>Six Days of the Week<hr class="short" /></li> +<li>Little Rivers</li> +<li>Fisherman's Luck</li> +<li>Days Off</li> +<li>Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land<hr class="short" /></li> +<li>The Ruling Passion</li> +<li>The Blue Flower</li> +<li>The Unknown Quantity</li> +<li>The Valley of Vision<hr class="short" /></li> +<li>Camp-Fires and Guide-Posts</li> +<li>Companionable Books<hr class="short" /></li> +<li>Poems, Collection in one volume<hr class="short" /></li> +<li>Songs out of Doors</li> +<li>Golden Stars</li> +<li>The Red Flower</li> +<li>The Grand Canyon, and Other Poems</li> +<li>The White Bees, and Other Poems</li> +<li>The Builders, and Other Poems</li> +<li>Music, and Other Poems</li> +<li>The Toiling of Felix, and Other Poems</li> +<li>The House of Rimmon<hr class="short" /></li> +<li>Studies in Tennyson</li> +<li>Poems of Tennyson</li> +<li>Fighting for Peace</li> +</ul> +<p class="central">CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</p> +</td><td> +<p><img id="Photo" src="images/van_dyke.png" width="270" height="450" +title="Photograph of Henry van Dyke, taken by Pirie MacDonald" +alt="Photograph of Henry van Dyke, taken by Pirie MacDonald" /></p> +<!-- Photo with "© PIRIE MACDONALD" printed in the bottom left, and + "From a Copyrighted Photograph by Pirie MacDonald" underneath. + Signed: "Henry van Dyke Avalon Jan[?] 6, 1920." --> +</td></tr></table> + +<h1><a class="pagebreak blank" name="pageii" id="pageii" title="ii"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="pageiii" id="pageiii" title="iii"></a> +THE POEMS<br />OF<br />HENRY VAN DYKE</h1> + +<h2>A NEW AND REVISED EDITION<br /> +WITH MANY HITHERTO UNCOLLECTED</h2> + +<h2>LONDON<br /> +ARTHUR F. BIRD<br /> +<small>MCMXXV</small></h2> + +<p class="printers"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="pageiv" id="pageiv" title="iv"></a> +[from an edition:]<br /> +Printed by The Scribner Press,<br /> +New York, U.S.A.</p> + +<p class="central"><a class="pagebreak" name="pagev" id="pagev" title="v"></a> +<b>Dedicated in Friendship to</b><br /> + KATRINA TRASK <br /> + <small>AND</small> <br /> + JOHN HUSTON FINLEY </p> + +<div class="toc"> +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="pagevi" id="pagevi" title="vi"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="pagevii" id="pagevii" title="vii"></a> +CONTENTS</h3> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>SONGS OUT OF DOORS<br />EARLY VERSES</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>The After-Echo</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page3">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Dulciora</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page4">4</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Three Alpine Sonnets</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page6">6</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Matins</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Parting and the Coming Guest</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page10">10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>If All the Skies</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page12">12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Wings of a Dove</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page13">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Fall of the Leaves</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page14">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Snow-Song</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page16">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Roslin and Hawthornden</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page17">17</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>SONGS OUT OF DOORS<br />LATER POEMS</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>When Tulips Bloom</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page21">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Whip-Poor-Will</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page24">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Lily of Yorrow</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Veery</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page29">29</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Song-Sparrow</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Maryland Yellow-Throat</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page33">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A November Daisy</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Angler's Reveille</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Ruby-Crowned Kinglet</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page41">41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="pageviii" id="pageviii" title="viii"></a> + School</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Indian Summer</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page46">46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Spring in the North</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page47">47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Spring in the South</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page51">51</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Noon Song</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page53">53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Light Between the Trees</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page55">55</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Hermit Thrush</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page57">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Turn o' the Tide</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Sierra Madre</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Grand Canyon</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Heavenly Hills of Holland</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page67">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Flood-Tide of Flowers</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>God of the Open Air</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page71">71</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>NARRATIVE POEMS</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>The Toiling of Felix</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page81">81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Vera</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page101">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Another Chance</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page120">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Legend of Service</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page125">125</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The White Bees</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>New Year's Eve</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page137">137</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Vain King</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page142">142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Foolish Fir-Tree</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page147">147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Gran' Boule”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page151">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Heroes of the “Titanic”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page157">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Standard-Bearer</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page158">158</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Proud Lady</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page159">159</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"> + <a class="pagebreak" name="pageix" id="pageix" title="ix"></a> + <h4>LABOUR AND ROMANCE</h4> +</th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>A Mile with Me</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page165">165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Three Best Things</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page166">166</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Reliance</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page169">169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Doors of Daring</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page170">170</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Child in the Garden</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page171">171</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Love's Reason</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page172">172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Echo in the Heart</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page173">173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Undine”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page174">174</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Rencontre”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page175">175</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Love in a Look</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page177">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>My April Lady</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page178">178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Lover's Envy</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page179">179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Fire-Fly City</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page180">180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Gentle Traveller</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page182">182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Nepenthe</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page183">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Day and Night</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page185">185</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Hesper</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page186">186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Arrival</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page187">187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Departure</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page188">188</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Black Birds</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page189">189</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Without Disguise</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page192">192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>An Hour</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page193">193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Rappelle-Toi”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page194">194</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Love's Nearness</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page196">196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Two Songs of Heine</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page197">197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="pagex" id="pagex" title="x"></a> + Eight Echoes from the Poems of Auguste Angellier</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page198">198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Rappel d'Amour</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page209">209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The River of Dreams</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page210">210</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>HEARTH AND ALTAR</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>A Home Song</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page217">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Little Boatie”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page218">218</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Mother's Birthday</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page220">220</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Transformation</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page222">222</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Rendezvous</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page223">223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Gratitude</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page224">224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Peace</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page225">225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Santa Christina</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page226">226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Bargain</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page229">229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>To the Child Jesus</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page230">230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Bitter-Sweet</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page231">231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Hymn of Joy</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page232">232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Song of a Pilgrim-Soul</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page234">234</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Ode to Peace</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page235">235</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Three Prayers for Sleep and Waking</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page239">239</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Portrait and Reality</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page242">242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Wind of Sorrow</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page243">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Hide and Seek</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page244">244</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Autumn in the Garden</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page246">246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Message</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page248">248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Dulcis Memoria</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page249">249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="pagexi" id="pagexi" title="xi"></a> + The Window</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page251">251</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Christmas Tears</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page253">253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Dorothea, 1888-1912</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page255">255</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND INSCRIPTIONS</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>For Katrina's Sun-Dial</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page259">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>For Katrina's Window</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page260">260</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>For the Friends at Hurstmont</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page261">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Sun-Dial at Morven</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page263">263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Sun-Dial at Wells College</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page263">263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>To Mark Twain</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page264">264</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Stars and the Soul</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page266">266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>To Julia Marlowe</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page268">268</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>To Joseph Jefferson</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page268">268</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Mocking-Bird</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page269">269</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Empty Quatrain</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page269">269</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Pan Learns Music</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page270">270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Shepherd of Nymphs</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page270">270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Echoes from the Greek Anthology</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page271">271</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>One World</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page274">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Joy and Duty</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page274">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Prison and the Angel</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page275">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Way</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page275">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Love and Light</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page276">276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><i>Facta non Verba</i></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page276">276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Four Things</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page277">277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="pagexii" id="pagexii" title="xii"></a> + The Great River</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page277">277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Inscription for a Tomb in England</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page278">278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Talisman</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page279">279</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Thorn and Rose</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page280">280</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“The Signs”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page281">281</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>PRO PATRIA</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>Patria</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page287">287</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>America</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page288">288</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Ancestral Dwellings</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page289">289</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Hudson's Last Voyage</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page292">292</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Sea-Gulls of Manhattan</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page299">299</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Ballad of Claremont Hill</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page301">301</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Urbs Coronata</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page304">304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Mercy for Armenia</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page306">306</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Sicily, December, 1908</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page308">308</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Come Back Again, Jeanne d'Arc”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page309">309</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>National Monuments</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page311">311</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Monument of Francis Makemie</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page312">312</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Statue of Sherman by St. Gaudens</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page313">313</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“America for Me”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page314">314</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Builders</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page316">316</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Spirit of the Everlasting Boy</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page330">330</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Texas</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page337">337</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Who Follow the Flag</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page352">352</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="pagexiii" id="pagexiii" title="xiii"></a> + Stain not the Sky</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page362">362</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Peace-Hymn of the Republic</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page364">364</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>THE RED FLOWER AND GOLDEN STARS</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>The Red Flower</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page369">369</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Scrap of Paper</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page371">371</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Stand Fast</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page372">372</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Lights Out</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page374">374</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Remarks About Kings</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page376">376</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Might and Right</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page377">377</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Price of Peace</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page377">377</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Storm-Music</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page378">378</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Bells of Malines</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page381">381</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Jeanne d'Arc Returns</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page384">384</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Name of France</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page385">385</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>America's Prosperity</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page387">387</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Glory of Ships</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page388">388</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Mare Liberum</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page391">391</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Liberty Enlightening the World”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page393">393</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Oxford Thrushes</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page395">395</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Homeward Bound</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page397">397</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Winds of War-News</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page399">399</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Righteous Wrath</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page400">400</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Peaceful Warrior</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page401">401</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>From Glory Unto Glory</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page402">402</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="pagexiv" id="pagexiv" title="xiv"></a> + Britain, France, America</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page404">404</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Red Cross</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page405">405</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Easter Road</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page406">406</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>America's Welcome Home</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page408">408</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Surrender of the German Fleet</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page410">410</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Golden Stars</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page412">412</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>In the Blue Heaven</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page417">417</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Shrine in the Pantheon</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page418">418</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>IN PRAISE OF POETS</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>Mother Earth</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page421">421</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Milton</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page423">423</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Wordsworth</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page425">425</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Keats</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page426">426</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Shelley</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page427">427</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Robert Browning</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page428">428</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Tennyson</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page429">429</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“In Memoriam”</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page430">430</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Victor Hugo</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page431">431</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Longfellow</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page434">434</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Thomas Bailey Aldrich</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page437">437</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Edmund Clarence Stedman</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page439">439</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>To James Whitcomb Riley</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page441">441</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Richard Watson Gilder</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page442">442</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Valley of Vain Verses</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page443">443</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"> + <a class="pagebreak" name="pagexv" id="pagexv" title="xv"></a> + <h4>MUSIC</h4> +</th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>Music</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page447">447</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Master of Music</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page464">464</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Pipes o' Pan</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page466">466</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>To a Young Girl Singing</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page467">467</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Old Flute</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page468">468</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The First Bird o' Spring</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page470">470</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"> + <h4>THE HOUSE OF RIMMON<br />A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS</h4> +</th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>The House of Rimmon</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page473">473</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Dramatis Personæ</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page474">474</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><th colspan="2"><h4>APPENDIX<br />CARMINA FESTIVA</h4></th></tr> + +<tr> + <td>The Little-Neck Clam</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page551">551</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Fairy Tale</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page555">555</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The Ballad of the Solemn Ass</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page558">558</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Ballad of Santa Claus</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page562">562</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Ars Agricolaris</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page565">565</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Angler's Fireside Song</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page570">570</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>How Spring Comes to Shasta Jim</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page571">571</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A Bunch of Trout-Flies</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page574">574</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr><td colspan="2"><hr class="short" /></td></tr> + +<tr> + <td>Index of First Lines</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page577">577</a></td> +</tr> + +</table> +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="pagexvi" id="pagexvi" title="xvi"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page1" id="page1" title="1"></a> +SONGS OUT OF DOORS<br /><br /> +EARLY VERSES</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page2" id="page2" title="2"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page3" id="page3" title="3"></a> +THE AFTER-ECHO</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How long the echoes love to play</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Around the shore of silence, as a wave</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Retreating circles down the sand!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> One after one, with sweet delay,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The mellow sounds that cliff and island gave,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Have lingered in the crescent bay,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Until, by lightest breezes fanned,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They float far off beyond the dying day</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And leave it still as death.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> But hark,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Another singing breath</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Comes from the edge of dark;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> A note as clear and slow</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> As falls from some enchanted bell,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Or spirit, passing from the world below,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> That whispers back, Farewell.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> So in the heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> When, fading slowly down the past,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Fond memories depart,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And each that leaves it seems the last;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Long after all the rest are flown,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Returns a solitary tone,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The after-echo of departed years,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And touches all the soul to tears.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1871.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page4" id="page4" title="4"></a> +DULCIORA</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A tear that trembles for a little while</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the trembling eyelid, till the world</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wavers within its circle like a dream,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Holds more of meaning in its narrow orb</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than all the distant landscape that it blurs.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A smile that hovers round a mouth beloved,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like the faint pulsing of the Northern Light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And grows in silence to an amber dawn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Born in the sweetest depths of trustful eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is dearer to the soul than sun or star.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A joy that falls into the hollow heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From some far-lifted height of love unseen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unknown, makes a more perfect melody</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than hidden brooks that murmur in the dusk,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or fall athwart the cliff with wavering gleam.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, not for their own sake are earth and sky</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the fair ministries of Nature dear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But as they set themselves unto the tune</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That fills our life; as light mysterious</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flows from within and glorifies the world.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page5" id="page5" title="5"></a> +<span class="i0">For so a common wayside blossom, touched</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With tender thought, assumes a grace more sweet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than crowns the royal lily of the South;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And so a well-remembered perfume seems</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The breath of one who breathes in Paradise.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1872.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page6" id="page6" title="6"></a> +THREE ALPINE SONNETS</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>THE GLACIER</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At dawn in silence moves the mighty stream,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The silver-crested waves no murmur make;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But far away the avalanches wake</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The rumbling echoes, dull as in a dream;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their momentary thunders, dying, seem</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To fall into the stillness, flake by flake,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And leave the hollow air with naught to break</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The frozen spell of solitude supreme.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At noon unnumbered rills begin to spring</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beneath the burning sun, and all the walls</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all the ocean-blue crevasses ring</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With liquid lyrics of their waterfalls;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if a poet's heart had felt the glow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sovereign love, and song began to flow.</span></p> + +<p class="note">Zermatt, 1872.</p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page7" id="page7" title="7"></a> +II</h4> + +<h4>THE SNOW-FIELD</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White Death had laid his pall upon the plain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And crowned the mountain-peaks like monarchs dead;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The vault of heaven was glaring overhead</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With pitiless light that filled my eyes with pain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And while I vainly longed, and looked in vain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For sign or trace of life, my spirit said,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “Shall any living thing that dares to tread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This royal lair of Death escape again?”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But even then I saw before my feet</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A line of pointed footprints in the snow:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Some roving chamois, but an hour ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Had passed this way along his journey fleet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And left a message from a friend unknown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To cheer my pilgrim-heart, no more alone.</span></p> + +<p class="note">Zermatt, 1872.</p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page8" id="page8" title="8"></a> +III</h4> + +<h4>MOVING BELLS</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Go chiming after her across the fair</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of peace are woven through the purple air.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To walk before the dark by falling rills,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> She opens all the doors of night, and fills</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With moving bells the music of my dreams,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That wander far among the sleeping hills.</span></p> + +<p class="note">Gstaad, August, 1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page9" id="page9" title="9"></a> +MATINS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flowers rejoice when night is done,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lift their heads to greet the sun;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweetest looks and odours raise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In a silent hymn of praise.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So my heart would turn away</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the darkness to the day;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lying open in God's sight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a flower in the light.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page10" id="page10" title="10"></a> +THE PARTING AND THE COMING GUEST</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who watched the worn-out Winter die?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who, peering through the window-pane</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> At nightfall, under sleet and rain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Saw the old graybeard totter by?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who listened to his parting sigh,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The sobbing of his feeble breath,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> His whispered colloquy with Death,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And when his all of life was done</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Stood near to bid a last good-bye?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of all his former friends not one</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Saw the forsaken Winter die.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who welcomed in the maiden Spring?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who heard her footfall, swift and light</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As fairy-dancing in the night?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who guessed what happy dawn would bring</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The flutter of her bluebird's wing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The blossom of her mayflower-face</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To brighten every shady place?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> One morning, down the village street,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Oh, here am I,” we heard her sing,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And none had been awake to greet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The coming of the maiden Spring.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page11" id="page11" title="11"></a> +<span class="i0">But look, her violet eyes are wet</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With bright, unfallen, dewy tears;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And in her song my fancy hears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A note of sorrow trembling yet.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Perhaps, beyond the town, she met</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Old Winter as he limped away</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To die forlorn, and let him lay</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> His weary head upon her knee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And kissed his forehead with regret</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For one so gray and lonely,—see,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her eyes with tender tears are wet.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so, by night, while we were all at rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I think the coming sped the parting guest.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1873.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page12" id="page12" title="12"></a> +IF ALL THE SKIES</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If all the skies were sunshine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our faces would be fain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To feel once more upon them</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The cooling plash of rain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If all the world were music,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our hearts would often long</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For one sweet strain of silence.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To break the endless song.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If life were always merry,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our souls would seek relief,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And rest from weary laughter</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the quiet arms of grief.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page13" id="page13" title="13"></a> +WINGS OF A DOVE</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At sunset, when the rosy light was dying</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Far down the pathway of the west,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I saw a lonely dove in silence flying,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> To be at rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pilgrim of air, I cried, could I but borrow</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy wandering wings, thy freedom blest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd fly away from every careful sorrow,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> And find my rest.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when the filmy veil of dusk was falling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Home flew the dove to seek his nest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Deep in the forest where his mate was calling</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> To love and rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace, heart of mine! no longer sigh to wander;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lose not thy life in barren quest.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There are no happy islands over yonder;</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Come home and rest.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1874.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page14" id="page14" title="14"></a> +THE FALL OF THE LEAVES</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In warlike pomp, with banners flowing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The regiments of autumn stood:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I saw their gold and scarlet glowing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From every hillside, every wood.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Above the sea the clouds were keeping</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Their secret leaguer, gray and still;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They sent their misty vanguard creeping</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With muffled step from hill to hill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All day the sullen armies drifted</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Athwart the sky with slanting rain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At sunset for a space they lifted,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With dusk they settled down again.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At dark the winds began to blow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With mutterings distant, low;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From sea and sky they called their strength</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Till with an angry, broken roar,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Like billows on an unseen shore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their fury burst at length.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page15" id="page15" title="15"></a> +<span class="i0">I heard through the night</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The rush and the clamour;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The pulse of the fight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Like blows of Thor's hammer;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The pattering flight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the leaves, and the anguished</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Moan of the forest vanquished.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At daybreak came a gusty song:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Shout! the winds are strong.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The little people of the leaves are fled.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shout! The Autumn is dead!”</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The storm is ended! The impartial sun</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Laughs down upon the battle lost and won,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And crowns the triumph of the cloudy host</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In rolling lines retreating to the coast.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But we, fond lovers of the woodland shade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And grateful friends of every fallen leaf,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forget the glories of the cloud-parade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And walk the ruined woods in quiet grief.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For ever so our thoughtful hearts repeat</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On fields of triumph dirges of defeat;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And still we turn on gala-days to tread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the rustling memories of the dead.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1874.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page16" id="page16" title="16"></a> +A SNOW-SONG</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Does the snow fall at sea?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Yes, when the north winds blow,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When the wild clouds fly low,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Out of each gloomy wing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Silently glimmering,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Over the stormy sea</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Falleth the snow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Does the snow hide the sea?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nay, on the tossing plains</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Never a flake remains;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Drift never resteth there;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Vanishing everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into the hungry sea</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Falleth the snow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What means the snow at sea?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whirled in the veering blast,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thickly the flakes drive past;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Each like a childish ghost</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Wavers, and then is lost;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the forgetful sea</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Fadeth the snow.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1875.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page17" id="page17" title="17"></a> +ROSLIN AND HAWTHORNDEN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Roslin Chapel, how divine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The art that reared thy costly shrine!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy carven columns must have grown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By magic, like a dream in stone.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet not within thy storied wall</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Would I in adoration fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So gladly as within the glen</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That leads to lovely Hawthornden.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A long-drawn aisle, with roof of green</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And vine-clad pillars, while between,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Esk runs murmuring on its way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In living music night and day.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within the temple of this wood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The martyrs of the covenant stood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And rolled the psalm, and poured the prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From Nature's solemn altar-stair.</span></p> + +<p class="note">Edinburgh, 1877.</p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page18" id="page18" title="18"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page19" id="page19" title="19"></a> +SONGS OUT OF DOORS<br /><br /> +LATER POEMS</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page20" id="page20" title="20"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page21" id="page21" title="21"></a> +WHEN TULIPS BLOOM</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When tulips bloom in Union Square,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And timid breaths of vernal air</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Go wandering down the dusty town,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like children lost in Vanity Fair;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When every long, unlovely row</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of westward houses stands aglow,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And leads the eyes to sunset skies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beyond the hills where green trees grow;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then weary seems the street parade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And weary books, and weary trade:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I'm only wishing to go a-fishing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For this the month of May was made.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I guess the pussy-willows now</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are creeping out on every bough</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along the brook; and robins look</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For early worms behind the plough.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak blank" name="page22" id="page22" title="22"></a> +<span class="i0">The thistle-birds have changed their dun,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For yellow coats, to match the sun;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And in the same array of flame</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Dandelion Show's begun.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flocks of young anemones</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are dancing round the budding trees:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who can help wishing to go a-fishing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In days as full of joy as these?</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I think the meadow-lark's clear sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Leaks upward slowly from the ground,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While on the wing the bluebirds ring</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their wedding-bells to woods around.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flirting chewink calls his dear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behind the bush; and very near,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where water flows, where green grass grows,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Song-sparrows gently sing, “Good cheer.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, best of all, through twilight's calm</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> How much I'm wishing to go a-fishing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In days so sweet with music's balm!</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page23" id="page23" title="23"></a> +IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis not a proud desire of mine;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I ask for nothing superfine;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> No heavy weight, no salmon great,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To break the record, or my line.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only an idle little stream,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose amber waters softly gleam,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where I may wade through woodland shade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cast the fly, and loaf, and dream:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only a trout or two, to dart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From foaming pools, and try my art:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> 'Tis all I'm wishing—old-fashioned fishing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And just a day on Nature's heart.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1894.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page24" id="page24" title="24"></a> +THE WHIP-POOR-WILL</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you remember, father,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It seems so long ago,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The day we fished together</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along the Pocono?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At dusk I waited for you,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beside the lumber-mill,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And there I heard a hidden bird</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That chanted, “whip-poor-will,”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Whippoorwill!</i> <i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sad and shrill,—“<i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The place was all deserted;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The mill-wheel hung at rest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lonely star of evening</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Was throbbing in the west;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The veil of night was falling;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The winds were folded still;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And everywhere the trembling air</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Re-echoed “whip-poor-will!”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Whippoorwill!</i> <i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sad and shrill,—“<i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You seemed so long in coming,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I felt so much alone;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wide, dark world was round me,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And life was all unknown;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page25" id="page25" title="25"></a> +<span class="i0">The hand of sorrow touched me,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And made my senses thrill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With all the pain that haunts the strain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of mournful whip-poor-will.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Whippoorwill!</i> <i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sad and shrill,—“<i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What knew I then of trouble?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> An idle little lad,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I had not learned the lessons</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That make men wise and sad.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I dreamed of grief and parting,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And something seemed to fill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart with tears, while in my ears</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Resounded “whip-poor-will.”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Whippoorwill!</i> <i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sad and shrill,—“<i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas but a cloud of sadness,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That lightly passed away;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But I have learned the meaning</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of sorrow, since that day.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For nevermore at twilight,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beside the silent mill,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll wait for you, in the falling dew,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And hear the whip-poor-will.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Whippoorwill!</i> <i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sad and shrill,—“<i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page26" id="page26" title="26"></a> +<span class="i0">But if you still remember</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In that fair land of light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The pains and fears that touch us</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along this edge of night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I think all earthly grieving,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And all our mortal ill,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To you must seem like a sad boy's dream.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who hears the whip-poor-will.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Whippoorwill!</i> <i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A passing thrill,—“<i>whippoorwill!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="note">1894.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page27" id="page27" title="27"></a> +THE LILY OF YORROW</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blue is its cup as the sky, and with mystical odour o'erflowing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Faintly it falls through the shadowy glades when the south wind is blowing.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet are the primroses pale and the violets after a shower;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet are the borders of pinks and the blossoming grapes on the bower;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweeter by far is the breath of that far-away woodland flower.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Searching and strange in its sweetness, it steals like a perfume enchanted</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Under the arch of the forest, and all who perceive it are haunted,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Seeking and seeking for ever, till sight of the lily is granted.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who can describe how it grows, with its chalice of lazuli leaning</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over a crystalline spring, where the ferns and the mosses are greening?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who can imagine its beauty, or utter the depth of its meaning?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page28" id="page28" title="28"></a> +<span class="i0">Calm of the journeying stars, and repose of the mountains olden,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Joy of the swift-running rivers, and glory of sunsets golden,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Secrets that cannot be told in the heart of the flower are holden.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Surely to see it is peace and the crown of a life-long endeavour;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Surely to pluck it is gladness,—but they who have found it can never</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tell of the gladness and peace: they are hid from our vision for ever.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas but a moment ago that a comrade was walking near me:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Turning aside from the pathway he murmured a greeting to cheer me,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then he was lost in the shade, and I called but he did not hear me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why should I dream he is dead, and bewail him with passionate sorrow?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Surely I know there is gladness in finding the lily of Yorrow:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He has discovered it first, and perhaps I shall find it to-morrow.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1894.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page29" id="page29" title="29"></a> +THE VEERY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I longed to hear a simpler strain,—the wood-notes of the veery.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I only know one song more sweet,—the vespers of the veery.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page30" id="page30" title="30"></a> +<span class="i0">But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1895.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page31" id="page31" title="31"></a> +THE SONG-SPARROW</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a bird I know so well,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It seems as if he must have sung</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beside my crib when I was young;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before I knew the way to spell</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The name of even the smallest bird,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> His gentle-joyful song I heard.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now see if you can tell, my dear.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What bird it is that, every year,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sings “<i>Sweet—sweet—sweet—very merry cheer.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He comes in March, when winds are strong,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And snow returns to hide the earth;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But still he warms his heart with mirth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And waits for May. He lingers long</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While flowers fade; and every day</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Repeats his small, contented lay;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if to say, we need not fear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The season's change, if love is here</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With “<i>Sweet—sweet—sweet—very merry cheer.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He does not wear a Joseph's-coat</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of many colours, smart and gay;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> His suit is Quaker brown and gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With darker patches at his throat.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And yet of all the well-dressed throng</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page32" id="page32" title="32"></a> +<span class="i1"> Not one can sing so brave a song.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It makes the pride of looks appear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A vain and foolish thing, to hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His “<i>Sweet—sweet—sweet—very merry cheer.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A lofty place he does not love,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But sits by choice, and well at ease,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In hedges, and in little trees</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That stretch their slender arms above</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The meadow-brook; and there he sings</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Till all the field with pleasure rings;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And so he tells in every ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That lowly homes to heaven are near</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In “<i>Sweet—sweet—sweet—very merry cheer.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I like the tune, I like the words;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> They seem so true, so free from art,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> So friendly, and so full of heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That if but one of all the birds</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Could be my comrade everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My little brother of the air,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd choose the song-sparrow, my dear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Because he'd bless me, every year,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With “<i>Sweet—sweet—sweet—very merry cheer.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="note">1895.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page33" id="page33" title="33"></a> +THE MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When May bedecks the naked trees</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With tassels and embroideries,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many blue-eyed violets beam</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the edges of the stream,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I hear a voice that seems to say,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now near at hand, now far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Witchery—witchery—witchery.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An incantation so serene,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So innocent, befits the scene:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's magic in that small bird's note—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">See, there he flits—the Yellow-throat;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A living sunbeam, tipped with wings,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A spark of light that shines and sings</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Witchery—witchery—witchery.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You prophet with a pleasant name,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If out of Mary-land you came,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You know the way that thither goes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where Mary's lovely garden grows:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fly swiftly back to her, I pray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And try to call her down this way,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Witchery—witchery—witchery!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page34" id="page34" title="34"></a> +<span class="i0">Tell her to leave her cockle-shells,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all her little silver bells</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That blossom into melody,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all her maids less fair than she.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She does not need these pretty things,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For everywhere she comes, she brings</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Witchery—witchery—witchery!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The woods are greening overhead,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And flowers adorn each mossy bed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The waters babble as they run—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One thing is lacking, only one:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If Mary were but here to-day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I would believe your charming lay,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Witchery—witchery—witchery!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Along the shady road I look—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who's coming now across the brook?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A woodland maid, all robed in white—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The leaves dance round her with delight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The stream laughs out beneath her feet—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sing, merry bird, the charm's complete,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “<i>Witchery—witchery—witchery!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="note">1895.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page35" id="page35" title="35"></a> +A NOVEMBER DAISY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Afterthought of summer's bloom!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Late arrival at the feast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Coming when the songs have ceased</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the merry guests departed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Leaving but an empty room,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silence, solitude, and gloom,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are you lonely, heavy-hearted;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You, the last of all your kind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nodding in the autumn-wind;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now that all your friends are flown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blooming late and all alone?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, I wrong you, little flower,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Reading mournful mood of mine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In your looks, that give no sign</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of a spirit dark and cheerless!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You possess the heavenly power</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That rejoices in the hour.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Glad, contented, free, and fearless,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lift a sunny face to heaven</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When a sunny day is given!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Make a summer of your own,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blooming late and all alone!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page36" id="page36" title="36"></a> +<span class="i0">Once the daisies gold and white</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sea-like through the meadow rolled:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Once my heart could hardly hold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All its pleasures. I remember,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the flood of youth's delight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Separate joys were lost to sight.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That was summer! Now November</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sets the perfect flower apart;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gives each blossom of the heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Meaning, beauty, grace unknown,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blooming late and all alone.</span></p> + +<p class="note">November, 1899.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page37" id="page37" title="37"></a> +THE ANGLER'S REVEILLE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the little watchman-stars have fallen asleep in light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Tis then a merry wind awakes, and runs from tree to tree,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And borrows words from all the birds to sound the reveille.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> This is the carol the Robin throws</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Over the edge of the valley;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Listen how boldly it flows,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Sally on sally:</span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Tirra-lirra,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Early morn,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>New born!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Day is near,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Clear, clear.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Down the river</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>All a-quiver,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Fish are breaking;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Time for waking,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Tup, tup, tup!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Do you hear?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>All clear—</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Wake up!</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page38" id="page38" title="38"></a> +<span class="i0">The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished with the dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now forth she fares thro' friendly woods and diamond-fields of dew,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While every voice cries out “Rejoice!” as if the world were new.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> This is the ballad the Bluebird sings,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Unto his mate replying,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Shaking the tune from his wings</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> While he is flying:</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> <i>Surely, surely, surely,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> <i>Life is dear</i></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> <i>Even here.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> <i>Blue above,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> <i>You to love,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Purely, purely, purely.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's wild azalea on the hill, and iris down the dell,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And just one spray of lilac still abloom beside the well;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The columbine adorns the rocks, the laurel buds grow pink,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the stream white arums gleam, and violets bend to drink.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> This is the song of the Yellow-throat,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Fluttering gaily beside you;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page39" id="page39" title="39"></a> +<span class="i4"> Hear how each voluble note</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Offers to guide you:</span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Which way, sir?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>I say, sir,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Let me teach you,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>I beseech you!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Are you wishing</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Jolly fishing?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>This way, sir!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>I'll teach you.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then come, my friend, forget your foes and leave your fears behind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful, quiet mind;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For be your fortune great or small, you take what God will give,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the day your heart will say, “'Tis luck enough to live.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> This is the song the Brown Thrush flings</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Out of his thicket of roses;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Hark how it bubbles and rings,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Mark how it closes:</span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Luck, luck,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>What luck?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Good enough for me,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>I'm alive, you see!</i></span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page40" id="page40" title="40"></a> +<span class="i9"> <i>Sun shining,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>No repining;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Never borrow</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Idle sorrow;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Drop it!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Cover it up!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Hold your cup!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Joy will fill it,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Don't spill it,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Steady, be ready,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> <i>Good luck!</i></span></p> + +<p class="note">1899.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page41" id="page41" title="41"></a> +THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where's your kingdom, little king?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where the land you call your own,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where your palace and your throne?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fluttering lightly on the wing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through the blossom-world of May,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whither lies your royal way,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Little king?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> <i>Far to northward lies a land</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Where the trees together stand</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Closely as the blades of wheat</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>When the summer is complete.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Rolling like an ocean wide</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Over vale and mountainside,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Balsam, hemlock, spruce and pine,—</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>All those mighty trees are mine.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There's a river flowing free,—</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>All its waves belong to me.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There's a lake so clear and bright</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Stars shine out of it all night;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Rowan-berries round it spread</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Like a belt of coral red.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Never royal garden planned</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Fair as my Canadian land!</i></span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page42" id="page42" title="42"></a> +<span class="i2"> <i>There I build my summer nest,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There I reign and there I rest,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>While from dawn to dark I sing,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Happy kingdom! Lucky king!</i></span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Back again, my little king!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Is your happy kingdom lost</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To the rebel knave, Jack Frost?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have you felt the snow-flakes sting?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Houseless, homeless in October,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whither now? Your plight is sober,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Exiled king!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> <i>Far to southward lie the regions</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Where my loyal flower-legions</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Hold possession of the year,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Filling every month with cheer.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Christmas wakes the winter rose;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>New Year daffodils unclose;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Yellow jasmine through the wood</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Flows in February flood,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Dropping from the tallest trees</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Golden streams that never freeze.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Thither now I take my flight</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Down the pathway of the night,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Till I see the southern moon</i></span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page43" id="page43" title="43"></a> +<span class="i2"> <i>Glisten on the broad lagoon,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Where the cypress' dusky green,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>And the dark magnolia's sheen,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Weave a shelter round my home.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There the snow-storms never come;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There the bannered mosses gray</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Like a curtain gently sway,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Hanging low on every side</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Round the covert where I bide,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Till the March azalea glows,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Royal red and heavenly rose,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Through the Carolina glade</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Where my winter home is made.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There I hold my southern court,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Full of merriment and sport:</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There I take my ease and sing,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Happy kingdom! Lucky king!</i></span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little boaster, vagrant king,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Neither north nor south is yours,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You've no kingdom that endures!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wandering every fall and spring,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With your ruby crown so slender,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Are you only a Pretender,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Landless king?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page44" id="page44" title="44"></a> +<span class="i2"> <i>Never king by right divine</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Ruled a richer realm than mine!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>What are lands and golden crowns,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Armies, fortresses and towns,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Jewels, sceptres, robes and rings,—</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>What are these to song and wings?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Everywhere that I can fly,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There I own the earth and sky;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Everywhere that I can sing.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>There I'm happy as a king.</i></span></p> + +<p class="note">1900.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page45" id="page45" title="45"></a> +SCHOOL</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I put my heart to school</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the world where men grow wise:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Go out,” I said, “and learn the rule;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come back when you win a prize.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart came back again:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Now where is the prize?” I cried.—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“The rule was false, and the prize was pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the teacher's name was Pride.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I put my heart to school</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the woods where veeries sing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And brooks run clear and cool,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the fields where wild flowers spring.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“And why do you stay so long</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart, and where do you roam?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The answer came with a laugh and a song,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I find this school is home.”</span></p> + +<p class="note">April, 1901.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page46" id="page46" title="46"></a> +INDIAN SUMMER</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A silken curtain veils the skies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And half conceals from pensive eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The bronzing tokens of the fall;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A calmness broods upon the hills,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And summer's parting dream distils</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A charm of silence over all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The stacks of corn, in brown array,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Stand waiting through the tranquil day,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Like tattered wigwams on the plain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tribes that find a shelter there</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are phantom peoples, forms of air,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And ghosts of vanished joy and pain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At evening when the crimson crest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sunset passes down the West,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I hear the whispering host returning;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On far-off fields, by elm and oak,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I see the lights, I smell the smoke,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The Camp-fires of the Past are burning.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Tertius and Henry van Dyke.</i></p> + +<p class="note">November, 1903.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page47" id="page47" title="47"></a> +SPRING IN THE NORTH</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why the sweet Spring delays,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And where she hides,—the dear desire</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of every heart that longs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby fire</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of maple-buds along the misty hills,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And that immortal call which fills</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The waiting wood with songs?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The snow-drops came so long ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It seemed that Spring was near!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But then returned the snow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With biting winds, and earth grew sere,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And sullen clouds drooped low</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To veil the sadness of a hope deferred:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then rain, rain, rain, incessant rain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beat on the window-pane,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through which I watched the solitary bird</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That braved the tempest, buffeted and tossed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With rumpled feathers down the wind again.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Oh, were the seeds all lost</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When winter laid the wild flowers in their tomb?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I searched the woods in vain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For blue hepaticas, and trilliums white,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And trailing arbutus, the Spring's delight,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page48" id="page48" title="48"></a> +<span class="i0">Starring the withered leaves with rosy bloom.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But every night the frost</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To all my longing spoke a silent nay,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And told me Spring was far away.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even the robins were too cold to sing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Except a broken and discouraged note,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only the tuneful sparrow, on whose throat</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Music has put her triple finger-print,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lifted his head and sang my heart a hint,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Wait, wait, wait! oh, wait a while for Spring!”</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now, Carina, what divine amends</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all delay! What sweetness treasured up,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> What wine of joy that blends</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred flavours in a single cup,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is poured into this perfect day!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For look, sweet heart, here are the early flowers</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That lingered on their way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thronging in haste to kiss the feet of May,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Entangled with the bloom of later hours,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Anemones and cinque-foils, violets blue</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And white, and iris richly gleaming through</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The grasses of the meadow, and a blaze</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of butter-cups and daisies in the field,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Filling the air with praise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if a chime of golden bells had pealed!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page49" id="page49" title="49"></a> +<span class="i1"> The frozen songs within the breast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of silent birds that hid in leafless woods,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Melt into rippling floods</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of gladness unrepressed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now oriole and bluebird, thrush and lark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Warbler and wren and vireo,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mingle their melody; the living spark</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Love has touched the fuel of desire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every heart leaps up in singing fire.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It seems as if the land</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were breathing deep beneath the sun's caress,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Trembling with tenderness,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While all the woods expand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In shimmering clouds of rose and gold and green,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To veil a joy too sacred to be seen.</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Come, put your hand in mine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">True love, long sought and found at last,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lead me deep into the Spring divine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That makes amends for all the wintry past.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all the flowers and songs I feared to miss</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Arrive with you;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in the lingering pressure of your kiss</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> My dreams come true;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in the promise of your generous eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> I read the mystic sign</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page50" id="page50" title="50"></a> +<span class="i2"> Of joy more perfect made</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Because so long delayed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bliss enhanced by rapture of surprise.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, think not early love alone is strong;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He loveth best whose heart has learned to wait:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear messenger of Spring that tarried long,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You're doubly dear because you come so late.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page51" id="page51" title="51"></a> +SPRING IN THE SOUTH</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now in the oak the sap of life is welling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Tho' to the bough the rusty leafage clings;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Every little pine-wood grows alive with wings;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blue-jays are fluttering, yodeling and crying,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Meadow-larks sailing low above the faded grass,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Red-birds whistling clear, silent robins flying,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who has waked the birds up? What has come to pass?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last year's cotton-plants, desolately bowing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Tremble in the March-wind, ragged and forlorn;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Red are the hillsides of the early ploughing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Gray are the lowlands, waiting for the corn.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Earth seems asleep, but she is only feigning;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Deep in her bosom thrills a sweet unrest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look where the jasmine lavishly is raining</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Jove's golden shower into Danäe's breast!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now on the plum-tree a snowy bloom is sifted,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Now on the peach-tree, the glory of the rose,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Far o'er the hills a tender haze is drifted,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Full to the brim the yellow river flows.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dark cypress boughs with vivid jewels glisten,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Greener than emeralds shining in the sun.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whence comes the magic? Listen, sweetheart, listen!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The mocking-bird is singing: Spring is begun.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page52" id="page52" title="52"></a> +<span class="i0">Hark, in his song no tremor of misgiving!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All of his heart he pours into his lay,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Love, love, love, and pure delight of living:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Winter is forgotten: here's a happy day!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fair in your face I read the flowery presage,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Snowy on your brow and rosy on your mouth:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet in your voice I hear the season's message,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Love, love, love, and Spring in the South!</span></p> + +<p class="note">1904.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page53" id="page53" title="53"></a> +A NOON SONG</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are songs for the morning and songs for the night,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But who will give praise to the fulness of light,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And sing us a song of the glory of noon?</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Oh, the high noon, the clear noon,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The noon with golden crest;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> With his face to the way of the west!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How swiftly he rose in the dawn of his strength!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> How slowly he crept as the morning wore by!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, steep was the climbing that led him at length</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To the height of his throne in the wide summer sky.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Oh, the long toil, the slow toil,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The toil that may not rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Till the sun looks down from his journey's crown,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> To the wonderful way of the west!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then a quietness falls over meadow and hill,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The wings of the wind in the forest are furled,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The river runs softly, the birds are all still,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The workers are resting all over the world.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Oh, the good hour, the kind hour,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The hour that calms the breast!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Little inn half-way on the road of the day,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Where it follows the turn to the west!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page54" id="page54" title="54"></a> +<span class="i0">There's a plentiful feast in the maple-tree shade,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The lilt of a song to an old-fashioned tune,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The talk of a friend, or the kiss of a maid,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To sweeten the cup that we drink to the noon.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Oh, the deep noon, the full noon,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of all the day the best!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> To his home by the way of the west!</span></p> + +<p class="note">1906.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page55" id="page55" title="55"></a> +LIGHT BETWEEN THE TREES</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long, long, long the trail</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through the brooding forest-gloom,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Down the shadowy, lonely vale</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into silence, like a room</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Where the light of life has fled,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the jealous curtains close</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Round the passionless repose</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of the silent dead.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Plod, plod, plod away,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Step by step in mouldering moss;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thick branches bar the day</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Over languid streams that cross</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Softly, slowly, with a sound</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Like a smothered weeping,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In their aimless creeping</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Through enchanted ground.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Yield, yield, yield thy quest,”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whispers through the woodland deep;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Come to me and be at rest;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I am slumber, I am sleep.”</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Then the weary feet would fail,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But the never-daunted will</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Urges “Forward, forward still!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Press along the trail!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page56" id="page56" title="56"></a> +<span class="i0">Breast, breast, breast the slope</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> See, the path is growing steep.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hark! a little song of hope</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where the stream begins to leap.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Though the forest, far and wide,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Still shuts out the bending blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> We shall finally win through,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Cross the long divide.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On, on, on we tramp!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Will the journey never end?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over yonder lies the camp;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Welcome waits us there, my friend.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Can we reach it ere the night?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Upward, upward, never fear!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Look, the summit must be near;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> See the line of light!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Red, red, red the shine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the splendour in the west,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Glowing through the ranks of pine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Clear along the mountain-crest!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Long, long, long the trail</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Out of sorrow's lonely vale;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But at last the traveller sees</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Light between the trees!</span></p> + +<p class="note">March, 1904.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page57" id="page57" title="57"></a> +THE HERMIT THRUSH</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O wonderful! How liquid clear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The molten gold of that ethereal tone,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Floating and falling through the wood alone,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>O holy, holy, holy! Hyaline,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Long light, low light, glory of eventide!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Love far away, far up,—up,—love divine!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Little love, too, for ever, ever near,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Warm love, earth love, tender love of mine,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>In the leafy dark where you hide,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>You are mine,—mine,—mine!</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, my belovèd, do you feel with me</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hidden virtue of that melody,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The rapture and the purity of love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The heavenly joy that can not find the word?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, while we wait again to hear the bird,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come very near to me, and do not move,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now, hermit of the woodland, fill anew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The cool, green cup of air with harmony,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And we will drink the wine of love with you.</span></p> + +<p class="note">May, 1908.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page58" id="page58" title="58"></a> +TURN O' THE TIDE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tide flows in to the harbour,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The bold tide, the gold tide, the flood o' the sunlit sea,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the little ships riding at anchor,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Are swinging and slanting their prows to the ocean, panting</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To lift their wings to the wide wild air,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And venture a voyage they know not where,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To fly away and be free!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tide runs out of the harbour,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The low tide, the slow tide, the ebb o' the moonlit bay,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the little ships rocking at anchor,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Are rounding and turning their bows to the landward, yearning</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To breathe the breath of the sun-warmed strand,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To rest in the lee of the high hill land,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To hold their haven and stay!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart goes round with the vessels,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My wild heart, my child heart, in love with the sea and the land,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the turn o' the tide passes through it,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In rising and falling with mystical currents, calling</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> At morn, to range where the far waves foam,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> At night, to a harbour in love's true home,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With the hearts that understand!</span></p> + +<p class="note">Seal Harbour, August 12, 1911.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page59" id="page59" title="59"></a> +SIERRA MADRE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Mother mountains! billowing far to the snow-lands,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Robed in aërial amethyst, silver, and blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why do ye look so proudly down on the lowlands?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> What have their groves and gardens to do with you?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Theirs is the languorous charm of the orange and myrtle,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Theirs are the fruitage and fragrance of Eden of old,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Broad-boughed oaks in the meadows fair and fertile,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Dark-leaved orchards gleaming with globes of gold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You, in your solitude standing, lofty and lonely,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Bear neither garden nor grove on your barren breasts;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rough is the rock-loving growth of your canyons, and only</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Storm-battered pines and fir-trees cling to your crests.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why are ye throned so high, and arrayed in splendour</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Richer than all the fields at your feet can claim?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What is your right, ye rugged peaks, to the tender</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Queenly promise and pride of the mother-name?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Answered the mountains, dim in the distance dreaming:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “Ours are the forests that treasure the riches of rain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ours are the secret springs and the rivulets gleaming</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Silverly down through the manifold bloom of the plain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page60" id="page60" title="60"></a> +<span class="i0">“Vain were the toiling of men in the dust of the dry land,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Vain were the ploughing and planting in waterless fields,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Save for the life-giving currents we send from the sky-land,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Save for the fruit our embrace with the storm-cloud yields.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O mother mountains, Madre Sierra, I love you!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Rightly you reign o'er the vale that your bounty fills—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Kissed by the sun, or with big, bright stars above you,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I murmur your name and lift up mine eyes to the hills.</span></p> + +<p class="note">Pasadena, March, 1913.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page61" id="page61" title="61"></a> +THE GRAND CANYON</h3> + +<h4>DAYBREAK</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou vast, profound, primeval hiding-place</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of ancient secrets,—gray and ghostly gulf</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Cleft in the green of this high forest land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And crowded in the dark with giant forms!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Art thou a grave, a prison, or a shrine?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A stillness deeper than the dearth of sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Broods over thee: a living silence breathes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Perpetual incense from thy dim abyss.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The morning-stars that sang above the bower</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Eden, passing over thee, are dumb</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With trembling bright amazement; and the Dawn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Steals through the glimmering pines with naked feet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her hand upon her lips, to look on thee!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She peers into thy depths with silent prayer</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For light, more light, to part thy purple veil.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O Earth, swift-rolling Earth, reveal, reveal,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Turn to the East, and show upon thy breast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The mightiest marvel in the realm of Time!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page62" id="page62" title="62"></a> +<span class="i0">'Tis done,—the morning miracle of light,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The resurrection of the world of hues</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That die with dark, and daily rise again</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With every rising of the splendid Sun!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be still, my heart! Now Nature holds her breath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To see the solar flood of radiance leap</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the chasm, and crown the western rim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of alabaster with a far-away</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rampart of pearl, and flowing down by walls</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of changeful opal, deepen into gold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of topaz, rosy gold of tourmaline,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Crimson of garnet, green and gray of jade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Purple of amethyst, and ruby red,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beryl, and sard, and royal porphyry;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until the cataract of colour breaks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the blackness of the granite floor.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How far below! And all between is cleft</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And carved into a hundred curving miles</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of unimagined architecture! Tombs,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Temples, and colonnades are neighboured there</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By fortresses that Titans might defend,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And amphitheatres where Gods might strive.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Cathedrals, buttressed with unnumbered tiers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of ruddy rock, lift to the sapphire sky</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A single spire of marble pure as snow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And huge aërial palaces arise</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page63" id="page63" title="63"></a> +<span class="i0">Like mountains built of unconsuming flame.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the weathered walls, or standing deep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In riven valleys where no foot may tread,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are lonely pillars, and tall monuments</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of perished æons and forgotten things.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My sight is baffled by the wide array</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of countless forms: my vision reels and swims</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above them, like a bird in whirling winds.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet no confusion fills the awful chasm;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But spacious order and a sense of peace</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brood over all. For every shape that looms</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Majestic in the throng, is set apart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all the others by its far-flung shade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blue, blue, as if a mountain-lake were there.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How still it is! Dear God, I hardly dare</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To breathe, for fear the fathomless abyss</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will draw me down into eternal sleep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What force has formed this masterpiece of awe?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What hands have wrought these wonders in the waste?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O river, gleaming in the narrow rift</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of gloom that cleaves the valley's nether deep,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fierce Colorado, prisoned by thy toil,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And blindly toiling still to reach the sea,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy waters, gathered from the snows and springs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the Utah hills, have carved this road</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of glory to the Californian Gulf.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page64" id="page64" title="64"></a> +<span class="i0">But now, O sunken stream, thy splendour lost,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Twixt iron walls thou rollest turbid waves,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too far away to make their fury heard!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At sight of thee, thou sullen labouring slave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of gravitation,—yellow torrent poured</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From distant mountains by no will of thine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through thrice a hundred centuries of slow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fallings and liftings of the crust of Earth,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At sight of thee my spirit sinks and fails.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Art thou alone the Maker? Is the blind</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unconscious power that drew thee dumbly down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To cut this gash across the layered globe,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sole creative cause of all I see?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are force and matter all? The rest a dream?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then is thy gorge a canyon of despair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A prison for the soul of man, a grave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all his dearest daring hopes! The world</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wherein we live and move is meaningless,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No spirit here to answer to our own!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The stars without a guide: The chance-born Earth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Adrift in space, no Captain on the ship:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing in all the universe to prove</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Eternal wisdom and eternal love!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And man, the latest accident of Time,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who thinks he loves, and longs to understand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who vainly suffers, and in vain is brave,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page65" id="page65" title="65"></a> +<span class="i0">Who dupes his heart with immortality,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Man is a living lie,—a bitter jest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon himself,—a conscious grain of sand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lost in a desert of unconsciousness,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thirsting for God and mocked by his own thirst.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit of Beauty, mother of delight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou fairest offspring of Omnipotence</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Inhabiting this lofty lone abode,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Speak to my heart again and set me free</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all these doubts that darken earth and heaven!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who sent thee forth into the wilderness</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To bless and comfort all who see thy face?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who clad thee in this more than royal robe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of rainbows? Who designed these jewelled thrones</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For thee, and wrought these glittering palaces?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who gave thee power upon the soul of man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To lift him up through wonder into joy?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">God! let the radiant cliffs bear witness, God!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let all the shining pillars signal, God!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He only, on the mystic loom of light.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hath woven webs of loveliness to clothe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His most majestic works: and He alone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hath delicately wrought the cactus-flower</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To star the desert floor with rosy bloom.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page66" id="page66" title="66"></a> +<span class="i0">O Beauty, handiwork of the Most High,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where'er thou art He tells his Love to man,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lo, the day breaks, and the shadows flee!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, far beyond all language and all art</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In thy wild splendour, Canyon marvellous,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The secret of thy stillness lies unveiled</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In wordless worship! This is holy ground;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou art no grave, no prison, but a shrine.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Garden of Temples filled with Silent Praise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If God were blind thy Beauty could not be!</span></p> + +<p class="note">February 24-26, 1913.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page67" id="page67" title="67"></a> +THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The heavenly hills of Holland,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> How wondrously they rise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above the smooth green pastures</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into the azure skies!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With blue and purple hollows,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With peaks of dazzling snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the far horizon</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The clouds are marching slow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No mortal foot has trodden</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The summits of that range,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor walked those mystic valleys</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whose colours ever change;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet we possess their beauty,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And visit them in dreams,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While ruddy gold of sunset</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From cliff and canyon gleams.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In days of cloudless weather</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> They melt into the light;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When fog and mist surround us</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> They're hidden from our sight;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when returns a season</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Clear shining after rain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the northwest wind is blowing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> We see the hills again.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page68" id="page68" title="68"></a> +<span class="i0">The old Dutch painters loved them,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Their pictures show them fair,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Old Hobbema and Ruysdael,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Van Goyen and Vermeer.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above the level landscape,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Rich polders, long-armed mills,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Canals and ancient cities,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Float Holland's heavenly hills.</span></p> + +<p class="note">The Hague, November, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page69" id="page69" title="69"></a> +FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS</h3> + +<h4>IN HOLLAND</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The laggard winter ebbed so slow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With freezing rain and melting snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It seemed as if the earth would stay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forever where the tide was low,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In sodden green and watery gray.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now from depths beyond our sight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tide is turning in the night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And floods of colour long concealed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come silent rising toward the light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through garden bare and empty field.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And first, along the sheltered nooks,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The crocus runs in little brooks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of joyance, till by light made bold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They show the gladness of their looks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In shining pools of white and gold.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tiny scilla, sapphire blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is gently seeping in, to strew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The earth with heaven; and sudden rills</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spread into lakes of daffodils.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page70" id="page70" title="70"></a> +<span class="i0">The hyacinths, with fragrant heads,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have overflowed their sandy beds,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fill the earth with faint perfume,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The breath that Spring around her sheds.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now the tulips break in bloom!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A splendour and a mystery,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Floods o'er the fields of faded gray:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The roads are full of folks in glee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For lo,—to-day is Easter Day!</span></p> + +<p class="note">April, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page71" id="page71" title="71"></a> +ODE</h3> + +<h3>GOD OF THE OPEN AIR</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With flowers below, above with starry lights</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And set thine altars everywhere,—</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> On mountain heights,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In woodlands dim with many a dream,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> In valleys bright with springs,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And on the curving capes of every stream:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou who hast taken to thyself the wings</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Of morning, to abide</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the secret places of the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And on far islands, where the tide</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Visits the beauty of untrodden shores,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Waiting for worshippers to come to thee</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> In thy great out-of-doors!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To thee I turn, to thee I make my prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> God of the open air.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seeking for thee, the heart of man</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Lonely and longing ran,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In that first, solitary hour,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> When the mysterious power</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page72" id="page72" title="72"></a> +<span class="i0">To know and love the wonder of the morn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was breathed within him, and his soul was born;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And thou didst meet thy child,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Not in some hidden shrine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But in the freedom of the garden wild,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And take his hand in thine,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There all day long in Paradise he walked,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in the cool of evening with thee talked.</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Lost, long ago, that garden bright and pure,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lost, that calm day too perfect to endure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lost the child-like love that worshipped and was sure!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For men have dulled their eyes with sin,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And dimmed the light of heaven with doubt,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And built their temple walls to shut thee in,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And framed their iron creeds to shut thee out.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But not for thee the closing of the door,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> O Spirit unconfined!</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Thy ways are free</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> As is the wandering wind,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And thou hast wooed thy children, to restore</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Their fellowship with thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In peace of soul and simpleness of mind.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page73" id="page73" title="73"></a> +IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Joyful the heart that, when the flood rolled by,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Leaped up to see the rainbow in the sky;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And glad the pilgrim, in the lonely night,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For whom the hills of Haran, tier on tier,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Built up a secret stairway to the height</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where stars like angel eyes were shining clear.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From mountain-peaks, in many a land and age,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Disciples of the Persian seer</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Have hailed the rising sun and worshipped thee;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And wayworn followers of the Indian sage</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have found the peace of God beneath a spreading tree.</span></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> But One, but One,—ah, Son most dear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And perfect image of the Love Unseen,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Walked every day in pastures green,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all his life the quiet waters by,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Reading their beauty with a tranquil eye.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To him the desert was a place prepared</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> For weary hearts to rest;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The hillside was a temple blest;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The grassy vale a banquet-room</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where he could feed and comfort many a guest.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> With him the lily shared</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The vital joy that breathes itself in bloom;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page74" id="page74" title="74"></a> +<span class="i0">And every bird that sang beside the nest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Told of the love that broods o'er every living thing.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> He watched the shepherd bring</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His flock at sundown to the welcome fold,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The fisherman at daybreak fling</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His net across the waters gray and cold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all day long the patient reaper swing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His curving sickle through the harvest-gold.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So through the world the foot-path way he trod,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Breathing the air of heaven in every breath;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in the evening sacrifice of death</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the open sky he gave his soul to God.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Him will I trust, and for my Master take;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Him will I follow; and for his dear sake,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> God of the open air,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> To thee I make my prayer.</span></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the prison of anxious thought that greed has builded,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the fetters that envy has wrought and pride has gilded,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the noise of the crowded ways and the fierce confusion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the folly that wastes its days in a world of illusion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(Ah, but the life is lost that frets and languishes there!)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I would escape and be free in the joy of the open air.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page75" id="page75" title="75"></a> +<span class="i0">By the breadth of the blue that shines in silence o'er me,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the length of the mountain-lines that stretch before me,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the height of the cloud that sails, with rest in motion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the plains and the vales to the measureless ocean,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(Oh, how the sight of the greater things enlarges the eyes!)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Draw me away from myself to the peace of the hills and skies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While the tremulous leafy haze on the woodland is spreading,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the bloom on the meadow betrays where May has been treading;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the birds on the branches above, and the brooks flowing under,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are singing together of love in a world full of wonder,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(Lo, in the magic of Springtime, dreams are changed into truth!)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Quicken my heart, and restore the beautiful hopes of youth.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the faith that the wild-flowers show when they bloom unbidden,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the calm of the river's flow to a goal that is hidden,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the strength of the tree that clings to its deep foundation,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page76" id="page76" title="76"></a> +<span class="i0">By the courage of birds' light wings on the long migration,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(Wonderful spirit of trust that abides in Nature's breast!)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Teach me how to confide, and live my life, and rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the comforting warmth of the sun that my body embraces,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the cool of the waters that run through the shadowy places,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the balm of the breezes that brush my face with their fingers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the vesper-hymn of the thrush when the twilight lingers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the long breath, the deep breath, the breath of a heart without care,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will give thanks and adore thee, God of the open air!</span></p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> These are the gifts I ask</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of thee, Spirit serene:</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Strength for the daily task,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Courage to face the road,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And, for the hours of rest that come between,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> An inward joy in all things heard and seen.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page77" id="page77" title="77"></a> +<span class="i4"> These are the sins I fain</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Would have thee take away:</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Malice, and cold disdain,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Hot anger, sullen hate,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And discontent that casts a shadow gray</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> On all the brightness of the common day.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> These are the things I prize</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And hold of dearest worth:</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Light of the sapphire skies,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Peace of the silent hills,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Music of birds, murmur of little rills,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And, after showers,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The smell of flowers</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And of the good brown earth,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> So let me keep</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> These treasures of the humble heart</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In true possession, owning them by love;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And when at last I can no longer move</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Among them freely, but must part</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> From the green fields and from the waters clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Let me not creep</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into some darkened room and hide</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From all that makes the world so bright and dear;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> But throw the windows wide</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page78" id="page78" title="78"></a> +<span class="i4"> To welcome in the light;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And while I clasp a well-belovèd hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Let me once more have sight</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land,—</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Then gently fall on sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And breathe my body back to Nature's care,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My spirit out to thee, God of the open air.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1904.</p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page79" id="page79" title="79"></a> +NARRATIVE POEMS</h2> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page80" id="page80" title="80"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page81" id="page81" title="81"></a> +THE TOILING OF FELIX<br /><br /> +A LEGEND ON A NEW SAYING OF JESUS</h2> + +<p class="note"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page82" id="page82" title="82"></a> +In the rubbish heaps of the ancient city of Oxyrhynchus, near the +River Nile, a party of English explorers, in the winter of 1897, discovered +a fragment of a papyrus book, written in the second or third century, +and hitherto unknown. This single leaf contained parts of seven short +sentences of Christ, each introduced by the words, “Jesus says.” It +is to the fifth of these Sayings of Jesus that the following poem refers. +</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page83" id="page83" title="83"></a> +THE TOILING OF FELIX</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>PRELUDE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Hear a word that Jesus spake</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Nineteen hundred years ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Where the crimson lilies blow</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Round the blue Tiberian lake:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> There the bread of life He brake,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Through the fields of harvest walking</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> With His lowly comrades, talking</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of the secret thoughts that feed</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Weary souls in time of need.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Art thou hungry? Come and take;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Hear the word that Jesus spake!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Tis the sacrament of labour, bread and wine divinely blest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Friendship's food and sweet refreshment, strength and courage, joy and rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> But this word the Master said</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Long ago and far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Silent and forgotten lay</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Buried with the silent dead,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Where the sands of Egypt spread</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Sea-like, tawny billows heaping</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Over ancient cities sleeping,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page84" id="page84" title="84"></a> +<span class="i4"> While the River Nile between</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Rolls its summer flood of green</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Rolls its autumn flood of red:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> There the word the Master said,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Written on a frail papyrus, wrinkled, scorched by fire, and torn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hidden by God's hand was waiting for its resurrection morn.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Now at last the buried word</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> By the delving spade is found,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Sleeping in the quiet ground.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Now the call of life is heard:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Rise again, and like a bird,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Fly abroad on wings of gladness</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Through the darkness and the sadness,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of the toiling age, and sing</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Sweeter than the voice of Spring,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Till the hearts of men are stirred</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> By the music of the word,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gospel for the heavy-laden, answer to the labourer's cry:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“<i>Raise the stone, and thou shall find me; cleave the wood and there am I.</i>”</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page85" id="page85" title="85"></a> +II</h4> + +<h4>LEGEND</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brother-men who look for Jesus, long to see Him close and clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hearken to the tale of Felix, how he found the Master near.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Born in Egypt, 'neath the shadow of the crumbling gods of night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He forsook the ancient darkness, turned his young heart toward the Light.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seeking Christ, in vain he waited for the vision of the Lord;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Vainly pondered many volumes where the creeds of men were stored;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vainly shut himself in silence, keeping vigil night and day;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Vainly haunted shrines and churches where the Christians came to pray.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One by one he dropped the duties of the common life of care,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Broke the human ties that bound him, laid his spirit waste and bare,</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page86" id="page86" title="86"></a> +<span class="i0">Hoping that the Lord would enter that deserted dwelling-place,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And reward the loss of all things with the vision of His face.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still the blessed vision tarried; still the light was unrevealed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Still the Master, dim and distant, kept His countenance concealed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fainter grew the hope of finding, wearier grew the fruitless quest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Prayer and penitence and fasting gave no comfort, brought no rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lingering in the darkened temple, ere the lamp of faith went out,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Felix knelt before the altar, lonely, sad, and full of doubt.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hear me, O my Lord and Master,” from the altar-step he cried,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Let my one desire be granted, let my hope be satisfied!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Only once I long to see Thee, in the fulness of Thy grace:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Break the clouds that now enfold Thee, with the sunrise of Thy face!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page87" id="page87" title="87"></a> +<span class="i0">“All that men desire and treasure have I counted loss for Thee;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Every hope have I forsaken, save this one, my Lord to see.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Loosed the sacred bands of friendship, solitary stands my heart;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou shalt be my sole companion when I see Thee as Thou art.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“From Thy distant throne in glory, flash upon my inward sight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fill the midnight of my spirit with the splendour of Thy light.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“All Thine other gifts and blessings, common mercies, I disown;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Separated from my brothers, I would see Thy face alone.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I have watched and I have waited as one waiteth for the morn:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Still the veil is never lifted, still Thou leavest me forlorn.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Now I seek Thee in the desert, where the holy hermits dwell;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There, beside the saint Serapion, I will find a lonely cell.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page88" id="page88" title="88"></a> +<span class="i0">“There at last Thou wilt be gracious; there Thy presence, long-concealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the solitude and silence to my heart shall be revealed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thou wilt come, at dawn or twilight, o'er the rolling waves of sand;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I shall see Thee close beside me, I shall touch Thy pierced hand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Lo, Thy pilgrim kneels before Thee; bless my journey with a word;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tell me now that if I follow, I shall find Thee, O my Lord!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Felix listened: through the darkness, like a murmur of the wind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Came a gentle sound of stillness: “Never faint, and thou shalt find.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long and toilsome was his journey through the heavy land of heat,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Egypt's blazing sun above him, blistering sand beneath his feet.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Patiently he plodded onward, from the pathway never erred,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till he reached the river-headland called the Mountain of the Bird.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page89" id="page89" title="89"></a> +<span class="i0">There the tribes of air assemble, once a year, their noisy flock,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, departing, leave a sentinel perched upon the highest rock.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far away, on joyful pinions, over land and sea they fly;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the watcher on the summit lonely stands against the sky.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There the eremite Serapion in a cave had made his bed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There the faithful bands of pilgrims sought his blessing, brought him bread.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Month by month, in deep seclusion, hidden in the rocky cleft,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dwelt the hermit, fasting, praying; once a year the cave he left.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On that day a happy pilgrim, chosen out of all the band,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Won a special sign of favour from the holy hermit's hand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Underneath the narrow window, at the doorway closely sealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the afterglow of sunset deepened round him, Felix kneeled.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page90" id="page90" title="90"></a> +<span class="i0">“Man of God, of men most holy, thou whose gifts cannot be priced!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Grant me thy most precious guerdon; tell me how to find the Christ.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Breathless, Felix bent and listened, but no answering voice he heard;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Darkness folded, dumb and deathlike, round the Mountain of the Bird.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then he said, “The saint is silent; he would teach my soul to wait:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will tarry here in patience, like a beggar at his gate.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Near the dwelling of the hermit Felix found a rude abode,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In a shallow tomb deserted, close beside the pilgrim-road.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So the faithful pilgrims saw him waiting there without complaint,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Soon they learned to call him holy, fed him as they fed the saint.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Day by day he watched the sunrise flood the distant plain with gold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the River Nile beneath him, silvery coiling, sea-ward rolled.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page91" id="page91" title="91"></a> +<span class="i0">Night by night he saw the planets range their glittering court on high,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Saw the moon, with queenly motion, mount her throne and rule the sky.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Morn advanced and midnight fled, in visionary pomp attired;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Never morn and never midnight brought the vision long-desired.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now at last the day is dawning when Serapion makes his gift;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Felix kneels before the threshold, hardly dares his eyes to lift.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the cavern door uncloses, now the saint above him stands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blesses him without a word, and leaves a token in his hands.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis the guerdon of thy waiting! Look, thou happy pilgrim, look!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing but a tattered fragment of an old papyrus book.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Read! perchance the clue to guide thee hidden in the words may lie:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“<i>Raise the stone, and thou shalt find me; cleave the wood, and there am I.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page92" id="page92" title="92"></a> +<span class="i0">Can it be the mighty Master spake such simple words as these?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Can it be that men must seek Him at their toil 'mid rocks and trees?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Disappointed, heavy-hearted, from the Mountain of the Bird</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Felix mournfully descended, questioning the Master's word.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for him a sacred dwelling, far above the haunts of men:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He must turn his footsteps backward to the common life again.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From a quarry near the river, hollowed out amid the hills,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rose the clattering voice of labour, clanking hammers, clinking drills.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dust, and noise, and hot confusion made a Babel of the spot:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There, among the lowliest workers, Felix sought and found his lot.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now he swung the ponderous mallet, smote the iron in the rock—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Muscles quivering, tingling, throbbing—blow on blow and shock on shock;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page93" id="page93" title="93"></a> +<span class="i0">Now he drove the willow wedges, wet them till they swelled and split,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With their silent strength, the fragment, sent it thundering down the pit.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the groaning tackle raised it; now the rollers made it slide;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Harnessed men, like beasts of burden, drew it to the river-side.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the palm-trees must be riven, massive timbers hewn and dressed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rafts to bear the stones in safety on the rushing river's breast.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Axe and auger, saw and chisel, wrought the will of man in wood:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Mid the many-handed labour Felix toiled, and found it good.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Every day the blood ran fleeter through his limbs and round his heart;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Every night he slept the sweeter, knowing he had done his part.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dreams of solitary saintship faded from him; but, instead,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Came a sense of daily comfort in the toil for daily bread.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page94" id="page94" title="94"></a> +<span class="i0">Far away, across the river, gleamed the white walls of the town</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whither all the stones and timbers day by day were floated down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There the workman saw his labour taking form and bearing fruit,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a tree with splendid branches rising from a humble root.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Looking at the distant city, temples, houses, domes, and towers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Felix cried in exultation: “All that mighty work is ours.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Every toiler in the quarry, every builder on the shore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Every chopper in the palm-grove, every raftsman at the oar,</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hewing wood and drawing water, splitting stones and cleaving sod,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All the dusty ranks of labour, in the regiment of God,</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“March together toward His triumph, do the task His hands prepare:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Honest toil is holy service; faithful work is praise and prayer.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page95" id="page95" title="95"></a> +<span class="i0">While he bore the heat and burden Felix felt the sense of rest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flowing softly like a fountain, deep within his weary breast;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Felt the brotherhood of labour, rising round him like a tide,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Overflow his heart and join him to the workers at his side.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft he cheered them with his singing at the breaking of the light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Told them tales of Christ at noonday, taught them words of prayer at night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once he bent above a comrade fainting in the mid-day heat,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sheltered him with woven palm-leaves, gave him water, cool and sweet.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then it seemed, for one swift moment, secret radiance filled the place;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Underneath the green palm-branches flashed a look of Jesus' face.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once again, a raftsman, slipping, plunged beneath the stream and sank;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Swiftly Felix leaped to rescue, caught him, drew him toward the bank—</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page96" id="page96" title="96"></a> +<span class="i0">Battling with the cruel river, using all his strength to save—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Did he dream? or was there One beside him walking on the wave?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now at last the work was ended, grove deserted, quarry stilled;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Felix journeyed to the city that his hands had helped to build.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the darkness of the temple, at the closing hour of day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As of old he sought the altar, as of old he knelt to pray:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hear me, O Thou hidden Master! Thou hast sent a word to me;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It is written—Thy commandment—I have kept it faithfully.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Thou hast bid me leave the visions of the solitary life,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bear my part in human labour, take my share in human strife.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I have done Thy bidding, Master; raised the rock and felled the tree,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Swung the axe and plied the hammer, working every day for Thee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page97" id="page97" title="97"></a> +<span class="i0">“Once it seemed I saw Thy presence through the bending palm-leaves gleam;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Once upon the flowing water—Nay, I know not; 'twas a dream!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“This I know: Thou hast been near me: more than this I dare not ask.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Though I see Thee not, I love Thee. Let me do Thy humblest task!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through the dimness of the temple slowly dawned a mystic light;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There the Master stood in glory, manifest to mortal sight:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hands that bore the mark of labour, brow that bore the print of care;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hands of power, divinely tender; brow of light, divinely fair.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Hearken, good and faithful servant, true disciple, loyal friend!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou hast followed me and found me; I will keep thee to the end.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Well I know thy toil and trouble; often weary, fainting, worn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I have lived the life of labour, heavy burdens I have borne.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page98" id="page98" title="98"></a> +<span class="i0">“Never in a prince's palace have I slept on golden bed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Never in a hermit's cavern have I eaten unearned bread.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Born within a lowly stable, where the cattle round me stood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Trained a carpenter in Nazareth, I have toiled, and found it good.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“They who tread the path of labour follow where my feet have trod;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They who work without complaining do the holy will of God.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Where the many toil together, there am I among my own;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the tired workman sleepeth, there am I with him alone.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I, the peace that passeth knowledge, dwell amid the daily strife;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I, the bread of heaven, am broken in the sacrament of life.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Every task, however simple, sets the soul that does it free;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Every deed of love and mercy, done to man, is done to me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page99" id="page99" title="99"></a> +<span class="i0">“Thou hast learned the open secret; thou hast come to me for rest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With thy burden, in thy labour, thou art Felix, doubly blest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere;</span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Raise the stone, and thou shall find me; cleave the wood, and I am there.</i>”</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<h4>ENVOY</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The legend of Felix is ended, the toiling of Felix is done;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Master has paid him his wages, the goal of his journey is won;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He rests, but he never is idle; a thousand years pass like a day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the glad surprise of that Paradise where work is sweeter than play.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet often the King of that country comes out from His tireless host,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And walks in this world of the weary as if He loved it the most;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For here in the dusty confusion, with eyes that are heavy and dim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He meets again the labouring men who are looking and longing for Him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page100" id="page100" title="100"></a> +<span class="i0">He cancels the curse of Eden, and brings them a blessing instead:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blessed are they that labour, for Jesus partakes of their bread.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He puts His hand to their burdens, He enters their homes at night:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who does his best shall have as a guest the Master of life and light.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And courage will come with His presence, and patience return at His touch,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And manifold sins be forgiven to those who love Him much;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The cries of envy and anger will change to the songs of cheer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The toiling age will forget its rage when the Prince of Peace draws near.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the gospel of labour, ring it, ye bells of the kirk!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Lord of Love came down from above, to live with the men who work.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This is the rose that He planted, here in the thorn-curst soil:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of Earth is toil.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1898.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page101" id="page101" title="101"></a> +VERA</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A silent world,—yet full of vital joy</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Uttered in rhythmic movements manifold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sunbeams flashing on the face of things</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like sudden smilings of divine delight,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A world of many sorrows too, revealed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In fading flowers and withering leaves and dark</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tear-laden clouds, and tearless, clinging mists</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That hung above the earth too sad to weep,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A world of fluent change, and changeless flow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And infinite suggestion of new thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Reflected in the crystal of the heart,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A world of many meanings but no words,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A silent world was Vera's home.</span><br /> +<span class="i16"> For her</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The inner doors of sound were closely sealed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The outer portals, delicate as shells</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Suffused with faintest rose of far-off morn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like underglow of daybreak in the sea,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ear-gates of the garden of her soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shaded by drooping tendrils of brown hair,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Waited in vain for messengers to pass,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thread the labyrinth with flying feet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And swiftly knock upon the inmost door,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And enter in, and speak the mystic word.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page102" id="page102" title="102"></a> +<span class="i0">But through those gates no message ever came.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only with eyes did she behold and see,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With eyes as luminous and bright and brown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As waters of a woodland river,—eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That questioned so they almost seemed to speak,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And answered so they almost seemed to hear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only with wondering eyes did she behold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The silent splendour of a living world.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She saw the great wind ranging freely down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Interminable archways of the wood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While tossing boughs and bending tree-tops hailed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His coming: but no sea-toned voice of pines,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No roaring of the oaks, no silvery song</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of poplars or of birches, followed him.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He passed; they waved their arms and clapped their hands;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There was no sound.</span><br /> +<span class="i10"> The torrents from the hills</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Leaped down their rocky pathways, like wild steeds</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Breaking the yoke and shaking manes of foam.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lowland brooks coiled smoothly through the fields,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And softly spread themselves in glistening lakes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose ripples merrily danced among the reeds.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The standing waves that ever keep their place</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the swift rapids, curled upon themselves,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And seemed about to break and never broke;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the wandering waves that fill the sea</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page103" id="page103" title="103"></a> +<span class="i0">Came buffeting in along the stony shore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or plunging in along the level sands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or creeping in along the winding creeks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And inlets. Yet from all the ceaseless flow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And turmoil of the restless element</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Came neither song of joy nor sob of grief;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For there were many waters, but no voice.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Silent the actors all on Nature's stage</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Performed their parts before her watchful eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Coming and going, making war and love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Working and playing, all without a sound.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The oxen drew their load with swaying necks;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The cows came sauntering home along the lane;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The nodding sheep were led from field to fold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In mute obedience. Down the woodland track</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hounds with panting sides and lolling tongues</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pursued their flying prey in noiseless haste.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The birds, the most alive of living things,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mated, and built their nests, and reared their young,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And swam the flood of air like tiny ships</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rising and falling over unseen waves,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And, gathering in great navies, bore away</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To North or South, without a note of song.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All these were Vera's playmates; and she loved</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To watch them, wondering oftentimes how well</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They knew their parts, and how the drama moved</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page104" id="page104" title="104"></a> +<span class="i0">So swiftly, smoothly on from scene to scene</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Without confusion. But she sometimes dreamed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There must be something hidden in the play</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unknown to her, an utterance of life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More clear than action and more deep than looks.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And this she felt most deeply when she watched</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her human comrades and the throngs of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who met and parted oft with moving lips</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That had a meaning more than she could see.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She saw a lover bend above a maid,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With moving lips; and though he touched her not</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A sudden rose of joy bloomed in her face.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She saw a hater stand before his foe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And move his lips; whereat the other shrank</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if he had been smitten on the mouth.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She saw the regiments of toiling men</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Marshalled in ranks and led by moving lips.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And once she saw a sight more strange than all:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A crowd of people sitting charmed and still</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Around a little company of men</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who touched their hands in measured, rhythmic time</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To curious instruments; a woman stood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among them, with bright eyes and heaving breast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lifted up her face and moved her lips.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then Vera wondered at the idle play,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when she looked around, she saw the glow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of deep delight on every face, as if</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Some visitor from a celestial world</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page105" id="page105" title="105"></a> +<span class="i0">Had brought glad tidings. But to her alone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No angel entered, for the choir of sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was vacant in the temple of her soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And worship lacked her golden crown of song.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So when by vision baffled and perplexed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She saw that all the world could not be seen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And knew she could not know the whole of life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unless a hidden gate should be unsealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She felt imprisoned. In her heart there grew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The bitter creeping plant of discontent,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The plant that only grows in prison soil,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose root is hunger and whose fruit is pain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The springs of still delight and tranquil joy</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were drained as dry as desert dust to feed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That never-flowering vine, whose tendrils clung</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With strangling touch around the bloom of life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And made it wither. Vera could not rest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within the limits of her silent world;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along its dumb and desolate paths she roamed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A captive, looking sadly for escape.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now in those distant days, and in that land</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Remote, there lived a Master wonderful,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who knew the secret of all life, and could,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With gentle touches and with potent words,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Open all gates that ever had been sealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And loose all prisoners whom Fate had bound.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page106" id="page106" title="106"></a> +<span class="i0">Obscure he dwelt, not in the wilderness,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But in a hut among the throngs of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Concealed by meekness and simplicity.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And ever as he walked the city streets,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or sat in quietude beside the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or trod the hillsides and the harvest fields,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The multitude passed by and knew him not.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But there were some who knew, and turned to him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For help; and unto all who asked, he gave.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thus Vera came, and found him in the field,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And knew him by the pity in his face.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She knelt to him and held him by one hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And laid the other hand upon her lips</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In mute entreaty. Then she lifted up</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The coils of hair that hung about her neck,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bared the beauty of the gates of sound,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Those virgin gates through which no voice had passed,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She made them bare before the Master's sight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And looked into the kindness of his face</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With eyes that spoke of all her prisoned pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And told her great desire without a word.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Master waited long in silent thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As one reluctant to bestow a gift,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not for the sake of holding back the thing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Entreated, but because he surely knew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of something better that he fain would give</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If only she would ask it. Then he stooped</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page107" id="page107" title="107"></a> +<span class="i0">To Vera, smiling, touched her ears and spoke:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Open, fair gates, and you, reluctant doors,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within the ivory labyrinth of the ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let fall the bar of silence and unfold!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Enter, you voices of all living things,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Enter the garden sealed,—but softly, slowly,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not with a noise confused and broken tumult,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come in an order sweet as I command you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bring the double gift of speech and hearing.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vera began to hear. At first the wind</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Breathed a low prelude of the birth of sound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if an organ far away were touched</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By unseen fingers; then the little stream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That hurried down the hillside, swept the harp</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of music into merry, tinkling notes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then the lark that poised above her head</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On wings a-quiver, overflowed the air</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With showers of song; and one by one the tones</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all things living, in an order sweet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Without confusion and with deepening power,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Entered the garden sealed. And last of all</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Master's voice, the human voice divine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Passed through the gates and called her by her name,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And Vera heard.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page108" id="page108" title="108"></a> +II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i8"> What rapture of new life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Must come to one for whom a silent world</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is suddenly made vocal, and whose heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the same magic is awaked at once,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Without the learner's toil and long delay,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of a night of dumbly moving dreams,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into a day that overflows with music!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This joy was Vera's; and to her it seemed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if a new creative morn had risen</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the earth, and after the full week</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When living things unfolded silently,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And after the long, quiet Sabbath day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When all was still, another day had dawned,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And through the calm expectancy of heaven</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A secret voice had said, “Let all things speak.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The world responded with an instant joy;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the unseen avenues of sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were thronged with varying forms of viewless life.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To every living thing a voice was given</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Distinct and personal. The forest trees</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were not more varied in their shades of green</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than in their tones of speech; and every bird</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That nested in their branches had a song</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unknown to other birds and all his own.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The waters spoke a hundred dialects</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page109" id="page109" title="109"></a> +<span class="i0">Of one great language; now with pattering fall</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of raindrops on the glistening leaves, and now</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With steady roar of rivers rushing down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To meet the sea, and now with rhythmic throb</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And measured tumult of tempestuous waves,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now with lingering lisp of creeping tides,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The manifold discourse of many waters.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But most of all the human voice was full</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of infinite variety, and ranged</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the scale of life's experience</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With changing tones, and notes both sweet and sad,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All fitted to express some unseen thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Some vital motion of the hidden heart.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So Vera listened with her new-born sense</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To all the messengers that passed the gates,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In measureless delight and utter trust,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Believing that they brought a true report</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From every living thing of its true life,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And hoping that at last they would make clear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The mystery and the meaning of the world.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But soon there came a trouble in her joy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A note discordant that dissolved the chord</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And broke the bliss of hearing into pain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not from the harsher sounds and voices wild</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of anger and of anguish, that reveal</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The secret strife in nature, and confess</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The touch of sorrow on the heart of life,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page110" id="page110" title="110"></a> +<span class="i0">From these her trouble came not. For in these,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">However sad, she felt the note of truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And truth, though sad, is always musical.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The raging of the tempest-ridden sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The crash of thunder, and the hollow moan</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of winds complaining round the mountain-crags,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The shrill and quavering cry of birds of prey,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fiercer roar of conflict-loving beasts,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All these wild sounds are potent in their place</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within life's mighty symphony; the charm</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of truth attunes them, and the hearing ear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Finds pleasure in their rude sincerity.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even the broken and tumultuous noise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That rises from great cities, where the heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of human toil is beating heavily</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With ceaseless murmurs of the labouring pulse,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is not a discord; for it speaks to life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of life unfeigned, and full of hopes and fears,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And touched through all the trouble of its notes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With something real and therefore glorious.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One voice alone of all that sound on earth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is hateful to the soul, and full of pain,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The voice of falsehood. So when Vera heard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This mocking voice, and knew that it was false;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When first she learned that human lips can speak</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The thing that is not, and betray the ear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of simple trust with treachery of words;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page111" id="page111" title="111"></a> +<span class="i0">The joy of hearing withered in her heart.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For now she felt that faithless messengers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Could pass the open and unguarded gates</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sound, and bring a message all untrue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or half a truth that makes the deadliest lie,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or idle babble, neither false nor true,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But hollow to the heart, and meaningless.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She heard the flattering voices of deceit,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That mask the hidden purposes of men</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With fair attire of favourable words,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And hide the evil in the guise of good:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The voices vain and decorous and smooth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That fill the world with empty-hearted talk;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The foolish voices, wandering and confused,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That never clearly speak the thing they would,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But ramble blindly round their true intent</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And tangle sense in hopeless coils of sound,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All these she heard, and with a deep mistrust</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Began to doubt the value of her gift.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It seemed as if the world, the living world,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sincere, and vast, and real, were still concealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And she, within the prison of her soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Still waiting silently to hear the voice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of perfect knowledge and of perfect peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So with the burden of her discontent</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She turned to seek the Master once again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And found him sitting in the market-place,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page112" id="page112" title="112"></a> +<span class="i0">Half-hidden in the shadow of a porch,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alone among the careless crowd.</span><br /> +<span class="i16"> She spoke:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Thy gift was great, dear Master, and my heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has thanked thee many times because I hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But I have learned that hearing is not all;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For underneath the speech of men, there flows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Another current of their hidden thoughts;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behind the mask of language I perceive</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The eyes of things unsaid.</span><br /> +<span class="i14"> Touch me again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O Master, with thy liberating hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And free me from the bondage of deceit.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Open another gate, and let me hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The secret thoughts and purposes of men;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For only thus my heart will be at rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And only thus, at last, I shall perceive</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The mystery and the meaning of the world.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Master's face was turned aside from her;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His eyes looked far away, as if he saw</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Something beyond her sight; and yet she knew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That he was listening; for her pleading voice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No sooner ceased than he put forth his hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To touch her brow, and very gently spoke:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Thou seekest for thyself a wondrous gift,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The opening of the second gate, a gift</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That many wise men have desired in vain:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page113" id="page113" title="113"></a> +<span class="i0">But some have found it,—whether well or ill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For their own peace, they have attained the power</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To hear unspoken thoughts of other men.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thou hast begged this gift? Thou shalt receive,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not knowing what thou seekest,—it is thine:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The second gate is open! Thou shalt hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All that men think and feel within their hearts:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy prayer is granted, daughter, go thy way!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But if thou findest sorrow on this path,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come back again,—there is a path to peace.”</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beyond our power of vision, poets say,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is another world of forms unseen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet visible to purer eyes than ours.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And if the crystal of our sight were clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We should behold the mountain-slopes of cloud,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The moving meadows of the untilled sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The groves of twilight and the dales of dawn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every wide and lonely field of air,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More populous than cities, crowded close</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With living creatures of all shapes and hues.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But if that sight were ours, the things that now</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Engage our eyes would seem but dull and dim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beside the wonders of our new-found world,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And we should be amazed and overwhelmed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not knowing how to use the plenitude</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of vision.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page114" id="page114" title="114"></a> +<span class="i6"> So in Vera's soul, at first,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The opening of the second gate of sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let in confusion like a whirling flood.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The murmur of a myriad-throated mob;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The trampling of an army through a place</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where echoes hide; the sudden, whistling flight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of an innumerable flock of birds</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the highway of the midnight sky;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The many-whispered rustling of the reeds</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the passing feet of all the winds;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The long-drawn, inarticulate, wailing cry</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of million-pebbled beaches when the lash</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of stormy waves is drawn across their back,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All these were less bewildering than to hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What now she heard at once: the tangled sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all that moves within the minds of men.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For now there was no measured flow of words</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To mark the time; nor any interval</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of silence to repose the listening ear.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But through the dead of night, and through the calm</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of weary noon-tide, through the solemn hush</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That fills the temple in the pause of praise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And through the breathless awe in rooms of death,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She heard the ceaseless motion and the stir</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of never-silent hearts, that fill the world</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With interwoven thoughts of good and ill,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With mingled music of delight and grief,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With songs of love, and bitter cries of hate,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page115" id="page115" title="115"></a> +<span class="i0">With hymns of faith, and dirges of despair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And murmurs deeper and more vague than all,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thoughts that are born and die without a name,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or rather, never die, but haunt the soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With sad persistence, till a name is given.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These Vera heard, at first with mind perplexed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And half-benumbed by the disordered sound.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But soon a clearer sense began to pierce</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The cloudy turmoil with discerning power.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She learned to know the tones of human thought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As plainly as she knew the tones of speech.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She could divide the evil from the good,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Interpreting the language of the mind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And tracing every feeling like a thread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within the mystic web the passions weave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From heart to heart around the living world.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when at last the Master's second gift</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was perfected within her, and she heard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And understood the secret thoughts of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A sadness fell upon her, and the load</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of insupportable knowledge pressed her down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With weary wishes to know more, or less.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all she knew was like a broken word</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Inscribed upon the fragment of a ring;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all she heard was like a broken strain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Preluding music that is never played.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page116" id="page116" title="116"></a> +<span class="i0">Then she remembered in her sad unrest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Master's parting word,—“a path to peace,”—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And turned again to seek him with her grief.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She found him in a hollow of the hills,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beside a little spring that issued forth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the rocks and filled a mossy cup</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With never-failing water. There he sat,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With waiting looks that welcomed her afar.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I know that thou hast heard, my child,” he said,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“For all the wonder of the world of sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is written in thy face. But hast thou heard,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the many voices, one of peace?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And is thy heart that hears the secret thoughts,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hidden wishes and desires of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Content with hearing? Art thou satisfied?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Nay, Master,” she replied, “thou knowest well</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That I am not at rest, nor have I heard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The voice of perfect peace; but what I hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brings me disquiet and a troubled mind.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The evil voices in the souls of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Voices of rage and cruelty and fear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have not dismayed me; for I have believed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The voices of the good, the kind, the true,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are more in number and excel in strength.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is more love than hate, more hope than fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the deep throbbing of the human heart.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But while I listen to the troubled sound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One thing torments me, and destroys my rest</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page117" id="page117" title="117"></a> +<span class="i0">And presses me with dull, unceasing pain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For out of all the minds of all mankind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There rises evermore a questioning voice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That asks the meaning of this mighty world</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And finds no answer,—asks, and asks again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With patient pleading or with wild complaint,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But wakens no response, except the sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of other questions, wandering to and fro,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From other souls in doubt. And so this voice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Persists above all others that I hear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And binds them up together into one,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until the mingled murmur of the world</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sounds through the inner temple of my heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like an eternal question, vainly asked</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By every human soul that thinks and feels.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This is the heaviness that weighs me down,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And this the pain that will not let me rest.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Therefore, dear Master, shut the gates again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And let me live in silence as before!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or else,—and if there is indeed a gate</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unopened yet, through which I might receive</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An answer in the voice of perfect peace—”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She ceased; and in her upward faltering tone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The question echoed.</span><br /> +<span class="i11"> Then the Master said:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“There is another gate, not yet unclosed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For through the outer portal of the ear</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page118" id="page118" title="118"></a> +<span class="i0">Only the outer voice of things may pass;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And through the middle doorway of the mind</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only the half-formed voice of human thoughts,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Uncertain and perplexed with endless doubt;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But through the inmost gate the spirit hears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The voice of that great Spirit who is Life.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the tones of living things He breathes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A deeper tone than ever ear hath heard;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And underneath the troubled thoughts of men</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He thinks forever, and His thought is peace.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behold, I touch thee once again, my child:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The third and last of those three hidden gates</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That closed around thy soul and shut thee in,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is open now, and thou shalt truly hear.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Vera heard. The spiritual gate</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was opened softly as a full-blown flower</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unfolds its heart to welcome in the dawn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And on her listening face there shone a light</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of still amazement and completed joy</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the full gift of hearing.</span><br /> +<span class="i15"> What she heard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I cannot tell; nor could she ever tell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In words; because all human words are vain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is no speech nor language, to express</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The secret messages of God, that make</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Perpetual music in the hearing heart.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Below the voice of waters, and above</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page119" id="page119" title="119"></a> +<span class="i0">The wandering voice of winds, and underneath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The song of birds, and all the varying tones</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of living things that fill the world with sound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">God spoke to her, and what she heard was peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So when the Master questioned, “Dost thou hear?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She answered, “Yea, at last I hear.” And then</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He asked her once again, “What hearest thou?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What means the voice of Life?” She answered, “Love!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For love is life, and they who do not love</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are not alive. But every soul that loves,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lives in the heart of God and hears Him speak.”</span></p> + +<p class="note">1898.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page120" id="page120" title="120"></a> +ANOTHER CHANCE</h3> + +<h4>A DRAMATIC LYRIC</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Uncrook your fingers from my throat, and let me draw my breath.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You do me wrong to take me now—too soon for me to die—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, loose me from this clutching pain, and hear the reason why.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know I've had my forty years, and wasted every one;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet, I tell you honestly, my life is just begun;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I've walked the world like one asleep, a dreamer in a trance;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But now you've gripped me wide awake—I want another chance.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dreams were always beautiful, my thoughts were high and fine;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No life was ever lived on earth to match those dreams of mine.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And would you wreck them unfulfilled? What folly, nay, what crime!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You rob the world, you waste a soul; give me a little time.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page121" id="page121" title="121"></a> +<span class="i0">You'll hear me? Yes, I'm sure you will, my hope is not in vain:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I feel the even pulse of peace, the sweet relief from pain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The black fog rolls away from me; I'm free once more to plan:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Another chance is all I need to prove myself a man!</span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The world is full of warfare 'twixt the evil and the good;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I watched the battle from afar as one who understood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The shouting and confusion, the bloody, blundering fight—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How few there are that see it clear, how few that wage it right!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The captains flushed with foolish pride, the soldiers pale with fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The faltering flags, the feeble fire from ranks that swerve and veer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wild mistakes, the dismal doubts, the coward hearts that flee—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The good cause needs a nobler knight to win the victory.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A man whose soul is pure and strong, whose sword is bright and keen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who knows the splendour of the fight and what its issues mean;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page122" id="page122" title="122"></a> +<span class="i0">Who never takes one step aside, nor halts, though hope be dim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But cleaves a pathway thro' the strife, and bids men follow him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No blot upon his stainless shield, no weakness in his arm;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No sign of trembling in his face to break his valour's charm:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A man like this could stay the flight and lead the wavering line;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, give me but a year of life—I'll make that glory mine!</span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Religion? Yes, I know it well; I've heard its prayers and creeds,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And seen men put them all to shame with poor, half-hearted deeds.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They follow Christ, but far away; they wander and they doubt.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll serve him in a better way, and live his precepts out.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You see, I waited just for this; I could not be content</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To own a feeble, faltering faith with human weakness blent.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too many runners in the race move slowly, stumble, fall;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But I will run so straight and swift I shall outstrip them all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page123" id="page123" title="123"></a> +<span class="i0">Oh, think what it will mean to men, amid their foolish strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To see the clear, unshadowed light of one true Christian life,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Without a touch of selfishness, without a taint of sin,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With one short month of such a life a new world would begin!</span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And love!—I often dream of that—the treasure of the earth;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How little they who use the coin have realised its worth!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Twill pay all debts, enrich all hearts, and make all joys secure.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But love, to do its perfect work, must be sincere and pure.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My heart is full of virgin gold. I'll pour it out and spend</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My hidden wealth with open hand on all who call me friend.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not one shall miss the kindly deed, the largess of relief,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The generous fellowship of joy, the sympathy of grief.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I'll say the loyal, helpful things that make life sweet and fair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll pay the gratitude I owe for human love and care.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Perhaps I've been at fault sometimes—I'll ask to be forgiven,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And make this little room of mine seem like a bit of heaven.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page124" id="page124" title="124"></a> +<span class="i0">For one by one I'll call my friends to stand beside my bed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll speak the true and tender words so often left unsaid;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every heart shall throb and glow, all coldness melt away</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Around my altar-fire of love—ah, give me but one day!</span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What's that? I've had another day, and wasted it again?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A priceless day in empty dreams, another chance in vain?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou fool—this night—it's very dark—the last—this choking breath—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One prayer—have mercy on a dreamer's soul—God, this is death!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page125" id="page125" title="125"></a> +A LEGEND OF SERVICE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To hear, one day, report from those who came</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With pitying sorrow, or exultant joy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To tell of earthly tasks in His employ.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For some were grieved because they saw how slow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The stream of heavenly love on earth must flow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And some were glad because their eyes had seen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along its banks, fresh flowers and living green.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At last, before the whiteness of the throne</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The youngest angel, Asmiel, stood alone;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor glad, nor sad, but full of earnest thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thus his tidings to the Master brought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Lord, in the city Lupon I have found</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Three servants of thy holy name, renowned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above their fellows. One is very wise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With thoughts that ever range beyond the skies;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And one is gifted with the golden speech</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That makes men gladly hear when he will teach;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And one, with no rare gift or grace endued,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has won the people's love by doing good.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With three such saints Lupon is trebly blest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But, Lord, I fain would know, which loves Thee best?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then spake the Lord of Angels, to whose look</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hearts of all are like an open book:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“In every soul the secret thought I read,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page126" id="page126" title="126"></a> +<span class="i0">And well I know who loves me best indeed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But every life has pages vacant still,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whereon a man may write the thing he will;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Therefore I read the record, day by day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And wait for hearts untaught to learn my way.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But thou shalt go to Lupon, to the three</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who serve me there, and take this word from me:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tell each of them his Master bids him go</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There he shall find a certain task for me:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But what, I do not tell to them nor thee.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give thou the message, make my word the test,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And crown for me the one who loves me best.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silent the angel stood, with folded hands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To take the imprint of his Lord's commands;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then drew one breath, obedient and elate,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And passed the self-same hour, through Lupon's gate.</span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">First to the Temple door he made his way;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And there, because it was a holy-day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He saw the folk in thousands thronging, stirred</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By ardent thirst to hear the preacher's word.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, while the people whispered Bernol's name,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through aisles that hushed behind him Bernol came;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Strung to the keenest pitch of conscious might,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With lips prepared and firm, and eyes alight.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One moment at the pulpit step he knelt</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In silent prayer, and on his shoulder felt</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page127" id="page127" title="127"></a> +<span class="i0">The angel's hand:—“The Master bids thee go</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To serve Him there.” Then Bernol's hidden face</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Went white as death, and for about the space</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of ten slow heart-beats there was no reply;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till Bernol looked around and whispered, “<i>Why?</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But answer to his question came there none;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The angel sighed, and with a sigh was gone.</span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within the humble house where Malvin spent</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His studious years, on holy things intent,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet stillness reigned; and there the angel found</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The saintly sage immersed in thought profound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Weaving with patient toil and willing care</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A web of wisdom, wonderful and fair:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A seamless robe for Truth's great bridal meet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And needing but one thread to be complete.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then Asmiel touched his hand, and broke the thread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of fine-spun thought, and very gently said,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“The One of whom thou thinkest bids thee go</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To serve Him there.” With sorrow and surprise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Malvin looked up, reluctance in his eyes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The broken thought, the strangeness of the call,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The perilous passage of the mountain-wall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The solitary journey, and the length</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of ways unknown, too great for his frail strength,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Appalled him. With a doubtful brow</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page128" id="page128" title="128"></a> +<span class="i0">He scanned the doubtful task, and muttered “<i>How?</i>”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But Asmiel answered, as he turned to go,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With cold, disheartened voice, “I do not know.”</span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now as he went, with fading hope, to seek</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The third and last to whom God bade him speak,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Scarce twenty steps away whom should he meet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But Fermor, hurrying cheerful down the street,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With ready heart that faced his work like play,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And joyed to find it greater every day!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The angel stopped him with uplifted hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And gave without delay his Lord's command:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“He whom thou servest here would have thee go</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To serve Him there.” Ere Asmiel breathed again</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The eager answer leaped to meet him, “<i>When?</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The angel's face with inward joy grew bright,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all his figure glowed with heavenly light;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He took the golden circlet from his brow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And gave the crown to Fermor, answering, “Now!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For thou hast met the Master's hidden test,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I have found the man who loves Him best.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not thine, nor mine, to question or reply</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When He commands us, asking ‘how?’ or ‘why?’</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He knows the cause; His ways are wise and just;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who serves the King must serve with perfect trust.”</span></p> + +<p class="note">February, 1902.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page129" id="page129" title="129"></a> +THE WHITE BEES</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>LEGEND</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Saying, “I will make you keeper of my bees.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Golden were the hives and golden was the honey; golden, too, the music</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happy Aristæus loitered in the garden, wandered in the orchard,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Careless and contented, indolent and free;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lightly took his labour, lightly took his pleasure, till the fated moment</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When across his pathway came Eurydice.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then her eyes enkindled burning love within him; drove him wild with longing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For the perfect sweetness of her flower-like face;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Eagerly he followed, while she fled before him, over mead and mountain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> On through field and forest, in a breathless race.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the nymph, in flying, trod upon a serpent; like a dream she vanished;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Pluto's chariot bore her down among the dead!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page130" id="page130" title="130"></a> +<span class="i0">Lonely Aristæus, sadly home returning, found his garden empty,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All the hives deserted, all the music fled.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mournfully bewailing,—“Ah, my honey-makers, where have you departed?”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Far and wide he sought them over sea and shore;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Foolish is the tale that says he ever found them, brought them home in triumph,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Joys that once escape us fly for evermore.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet I dream that somewhere, clad in downy whiteness, dwell the honey-makers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In aërial gardens that no mortal sees:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And at times returning, lo, they flutter round us, gathering mystic harvest,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> So I weave the legend of the long-lost bees.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>THE SWARMING OF THE BEES</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who can tell the hiding of the white bees' nest?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who can trace the guiding of their swift home flight?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Far would be his riding on a life-long quest:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Surely ere it ended would his beard grow white.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Never in the coming of the rose-red Spring,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Never in the passing of the wine-red Fall,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page131" id="page131" title="131"></a> +<span class="i0">May you hear the humming of the white bee's wing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Murmur o'er the meadow ere the night bells call.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wait till winter hardens in the cold gray sky,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Wait till leaves are fallen and the brooks all freeze,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then above the gardens where the dead flowers lie,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Swarm the merry millions of the wild white bees.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Out of the high-built airy hive,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Deep in the clouds that veil the sun,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Look how the first of the swarm arrive;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Timidly venturing, one by one,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Down through the tranquil air,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Wavering here and there,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Large, and lazy in flight,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Caught by a lift of the breeze,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Tangled among the naked trees,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Dropping then, without a sound,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Feather-white, feather-light,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> To their rest on the ground.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Thus the swarming is begun.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Count the leaders, every one</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Perfect as a perfect star</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Till the slow descent is done.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Look beyond them, see how far</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Down the vistas dim and gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Multitudes are on the way.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page132" id="page132" title="132"></a> +<span class="i3"> Now a sudden brightness</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Dawns within the sombre day,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Over fields of whiteness;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And the sky is swiftly alive</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> With the flutter and the flight</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Of the shimmering bees, that pour</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> From the hidden door of the hive</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Till you can count no more.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now on the branches of hemlock and pine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thickly they settle and cluster and swing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bending them low; and the trellised vine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the dark elm-boughs are traced with a line</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of beauty wherever the white bees cling.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now they are hiding the wrecks of the flowers,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Softly, softly, covering all,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the grave of the summer hours</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Spreading a silver pall.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now they are building the broad roof ledge,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into a cornice smooth and fair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Moulding the terrace, from edge to edge,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into the sweep of a marble stair.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wonderful workers, swift and dumb,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Numberless myriads, still they come,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thronging ever faster, faster, faster!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where is their queen? Who is their master?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gardens are faded, the fields are frore,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What is the honey they toil to store</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page133" id="page133" title="133"></a> +<span class="i0">In the desolate day, where no blossoms gleam?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Forgetfulness and a dream!</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now the fretful wind awakes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I hear him girding at the trees;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He strikes the bending boughs, and shakes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The quiet clusters of the bees</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To powdery drift;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> He tosses them away,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> He drives them like spray;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He makes them veer and shift</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Around his blustering path.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In clouds blindly whirling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In rings madly swirling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Full of crazy wrath,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So furious and fast they fly</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They blur the earth and blot the sky</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In wild, white mirk.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They fill the air with frozen wings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And tiny, angry, icy stings;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They blind the eyes, and choke the breath,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They dance a maddening dance of death</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Around their work,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweeping the cover from the hill,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Heaping the hollows deeper still,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Effacing every line and mark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And swarming, storming in the dark</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Through the long night;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page134" id="page134" title="134"></a> +<span class="i0">Until, at dawn, the wind lies down</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Weary of fight;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The last torn cloud, with trailing gown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Passes the open gates of light;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the white bees are lost in flight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look how the landscape glitters wide and still,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Bright with a pure surprise!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The day begins with joy, and all past ill,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Buried in white oblivion, lies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the snow-drifts under crystal skies.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">New hope, new love, new life, new cheer,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Flow in the sunrise beam,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The gladness of Apollo when he sees,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the bosom of the wintry year,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The honey-harvest of his wild white bees,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Forgetfulness and a dream!</i></span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<h4>LEGEND</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Listen, my beloved, while the silver morning, like a tranquil vision,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fills the world around us and our hearts with peace;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Quiet is the close of Aristæus' legend, happy is the ending—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Listen while I tell you how he found release.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page135" id="page135" title="135"></a> +<span class="i0">Many months he wandered far away in sadness, desolately thinking</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Only of the vanished joys he could not find;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till the great Apollo, pitying his shepherd, loosed him from the burden</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of a dark, reluctant, backward-looking mind.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then he saw around him all the changeful beauty of the changing seasons,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the world-wide regions where his journey lay;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Birds that sang to cheer him, flowers that bloomed beside him, stars that shone to guide him,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Traveller's joy was plenty all along the way!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Everywhere he journeyed strangers made him welcome, listened while he taught them</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Secret lore of field and forest he had learned:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How to train the vines and make the olives fruitful; how to guard the sheepfolds;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> How to stay the fever when the dog-star burned.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Friendliness and blessing followed in his footsteps; richer were the harvests,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Happier the dwellings, wheresoe'er he came;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Little children loved him, and he left behind him, in the hour of parting,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Memories of kindness and a god-like name.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page136" id="page136" title="136"></a> +<span class="i0">So he travelled onward, desolate no longer, patient in his seeking,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Reaping all the wayside comfort of his quest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till at last in Thracia, high upon Mount Hæmus, far from human dwelling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Weary Aristæus laid him down to rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the honey-makers, clad in downy whiteness, fluttered soft around him,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Wrapt him in a dreamful slumber pure and deep.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This is life, beloved: first a sheltered garden, then a troubled journey,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Joy and pain of seeking,—and at last we sleep!</span></p> + +<p class="note">1905.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page137" id="page137" title="137"></a> +NEW YEAR'S EVE</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The other night I had a dream, most clear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And comforting, complete</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In every line, a crystal sphere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And full of intimate and secret cheer.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Therefore I will repeat</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That vision, dearest heart, to you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As of a thing not feigned, but very true,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yes, true as ever in my life befell;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And you, perhaps, can tell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whether my dream was really sad or sweet.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shadows flecked the elm-embowered street</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I knew so well, long, long ago;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And on the pillared porch where Marguerite</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Had sat with me, the moonlight lay like snow.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But she, my comrade and my friend of youth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Most gaily wise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Most innocently loved,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She of the blue-gray eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That ever smiled and ever spoke the truth,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From that familiar dwelling, where she moved</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like mirth incarnate in the years before,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Had gone into the hidden house of Death.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page138" id="page138" title="138"></a> +<span class="i0">I thought the garden wore</span><br /> +<span class="i0">White mourning for her blessed innocence,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the syringa's breath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Came from the corner by the fence</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where she had made her rustic seat,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With fragrance passionate, intense,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if it breathed a sigh for Marguerite.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart was heavy with a sense</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of something good for ever gone. I sought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Vainly for some consoling thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Some comfortable word that I could say</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To her sad father, whom I visited again</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the first time since she had gone away.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The bell rang shrill and lonely,—then</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The door was opened, and I sent my name</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To him,—but ah! 'twas Marguerite who came!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There in the dear old dusky room she stood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the lamp, just as she used to stand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In tender mocking mood.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“You did not ask for me,” she said,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“And so I will not let you take my hand;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But I must hear what secret talk you planned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With father. Come, my friend, be good,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And tell me your affairs of state:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why you have stayed away and made me wait</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So long. Sit down beside me here,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And, do you know, it seems a year</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Since we have talked together,—why so late?”</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page139" id="page139" title="139"></a> +<span class="i0">Amazed, incredulous, confused with joy</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I hardly dared to show,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And stammering like a boy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I took the place she showed me at her side;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then the talk flowed on with brimming tide</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the still night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While she with influence light</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Controlled it, as the moon the flood.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She knew where I had been, what I had done,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What work was planned, and what begun;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My troubles, failures, fears she understood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And touched them with a heart so kind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That every care was melted from my mind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every hope grew bright,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And life seemed moving on to happy ends.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(Ah, what self-beggared fool was he</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That said a woman cannot be</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The very best of friends?)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then there were memories of old times,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Recalled with many a gentle jest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And at the last she brought the book of rhymes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We made together, trying to translate</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Songs of Heine (hers were always best).</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Now come,” she said,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“To-night we will collaborate</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Again; I'll put you to the test.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here's one I never found the way to do,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The simplest are the hardest ones, you know,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page140" id="page140" title="140"></a> +<span class="i0">I give this song to you.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then she read:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> <i>Mein Kind, wir waren Kinder,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i3"> <i>Zwei Kinder, jung und froh.</i></span></p> + +<hr class="dotted" /> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But all the while, a silent question stirred</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within me, though I dared not speak the word:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Is it herself, and is she truly here,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And was I dreaming when I heard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That she was dead last year?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or was it true, and is she but a shade</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who brings a fleeting joy to eye and ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Cold though so kind, and will she gently fade</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When her sweet ghostly part is played</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the light-curtain falls at dawn of day?”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But while my heart was troubled by this fear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So deeply that I could not speak it out,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lest all my happiness should disappear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I thought me of a cunning way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To hide the question and dissolve the doubt.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Will you not give me now your hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear Marguerite,” I asked, “to touch and hold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That by this token I may understand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You are the same true friend you were of old?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She answered with a smile so bright and calm</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It seemed as if I saw the morn arise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the deep heaven of her eyes;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page141" id="page141" title="141"></a> +<span class="i0">And smiling so, she laid her palm</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In mine. Dear God, it was not cold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But warm with vital heat!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“You live!” I cried, “you live, dear Marguerite!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When I awoke; but strangely comforted,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Although I knew again that she was dead.</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, there's the dream! And was it sweet or sad?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear mistress of my waking and my sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Present reward of all my heart's desire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Watching with me beside the winter fire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Interpret now this vision that I had.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But while you read the meaning, let me keep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The touch of you: for the Old Year with storm</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is passing through the midnight, and doth shake</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The corners of the house,—and oh! my heart would break</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unless both dreaming and awake</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My hand could feel your hand was warm, warm, warm!</span></p> + +<p class="note">1905.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page142" id="page142" title="142"></a> +THE VAIN KING</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In robes of Tyrian blue the King was drest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A jewelled collar shone upon his breast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A giant ruby glittered in his crown:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord of rich lands and many a splendid town,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In him the glories of an ancient line</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sober kings, who ruled by right divine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were centred; and to him with loyal awe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The people looked for leadership and law.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ten thousand knights, the safeguard of the land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were like a single sword within his hand;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred courts, with power of life and death,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Proclaimed decrees of justice by his breath;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the sacred growths that men had known</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of order and of rule upheld his throne.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Proud was the King: yet not with such a heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As fits a man to play a royal part.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not his the pride that honours as a trust</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The right to rule, the duty to be just:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not his the dignity that bends to bear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The monarch's yoke, the master's load of care,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And labours like the peasant at his gate,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To serve the people and protect the State.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Another pride was his, and other joys:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To him the crown and sceptre were but toys,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page143" id="page143" title="143"></a> +<span class="i0">With which he played at glory's idle game,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To please himself and win the wreaths of fame.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The throne his fathers held from age to age,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To his ambition seemed a fitting stage</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Built for King Martin to display at will,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His mighty strength and universal skill.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No conscious child, that, spoiled with praising, tries</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At every step to win admiring eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No favourite mountebank, whose acting draws</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From gaping crowds the thunder of applause,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was vainer than the King: his only thirst</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was to be hailed, in every race, the first.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When tournament was held, in knightly guise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The King would ride the lists and win the prize;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When music charmed the court, with golden lyre</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The King would take the stage and lead the choir;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In hunting, his the lance to slay the boar;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In hawking, see his falcon highest soar;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In painting, he would wield the master's brush;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In high debate,—“the King is speaking! Hush!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thus, with a restless heart, in every field</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He sought renown, and made his subjects yield.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But while he played the petty games of life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His kingdom fell a prey to inward strife;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Corruption through the court unheeded crept,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And on the seat of honour justice slept.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The strong trod down the weak; the helpless poor</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Groaned under burdens grievous to endure;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page144" id="page144" title="144"></a> +<span class="i0">The nation's wealth was spent in vain display,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And weakness wore the nation's heart away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet think not Earth is blind to human woes—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Man has more friends and helpers than he knows;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when a patient people are oppressed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The land that bore them feels it in her breast.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spirits of field and flood, of heath and hill,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are grieved and angry at the spreading ill;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The trees complain together in the night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Voices of wrath are heard along the height,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And secret vows are sworn, by stream and strand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To bring the tyrant low and free the land.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But little recked the pampered King of these;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He heard no voice but such as praise and please.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flattered and fooled, victor in every sport,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One day he wandered idly with his court</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beside the river, seeking to devise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">New ways to show his skill to wondering eyes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There in the stream a patient angler stood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cast his line across the rippling flood.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His silver spoil lay near him on the green:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Such fish,” the courtiers cried, “were never seen!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Three salmon longer than a cloth-yard shaft—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This man must be the master of his craft!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“An easy art!” the jealous King replied:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Myself could learn it better, if I tried,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page145" id="page145" title="145"></a> +<span class="i0">And catch a hundred larger fish a week—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wilt thou accept the challenge, fellow? Speak!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The angler turned, came near, and bent his knee:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“'Tis not for kings to strive with such as me;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet if the King commands it, I obey.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But one condition of the strife I pray:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fisherman who brings the least to land</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall do whate'er the other may command.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Loud laughed the King: “A foolish fisher thou!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For I shall win, and rule thee then as now.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then to Prince John, a sober soul, sedate</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And slow, King Martin left the helm of State,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While to the novel game with eager zest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He all his time and all his powers addressed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sure such a sight was never seen before!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In robe and crown the monarch trod the shore;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His golden hooks were decked with feathers fine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His jewelled reel ran out a silken line.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With kingly strokes he flogged the crystal stream;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Far-off the salmon saw his tackle gleam;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Careless of kings, they eyed with calm disdain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gaudy lure, and Martin fished in vain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On Friday, when the week was almost spent,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He scanned his empty creel with discontent,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Called for a net, and cast it far and wide,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And drew—a thousand minnows from the tide!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then came the angler to conclude the match,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page146" id="page146" title="146"></a> +<span class="i0">And at the monarch's feet spread out his catch—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred salmon, greater than before.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I win!” he cried: “the King must pay the score.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then Martin, angry, threw his tackle down:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Rather than lose this game I'd lose my crown!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Nay, thou hast lost them both,” the angler said;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And as he spoke a wondrous light was shed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Around his form; he dropped his garments mean,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in his place the River-god was seen.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Thy vanity has brought thee in my power,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thou must pay the forfeit at this hour:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For thou hast shown thyself a royal fool,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too proud to angle, and too vain to rule,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Eager to win in every trivial strife,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Go! Thou shalt fish for minnows all thy life!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wrathful, the King the magic sentence heard;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He strove to answer, but he only <i>chirr-r-ed</i>:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His royal robe was changed to wings of blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His crown a ruby crest,—away he flew!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So every summer day along the stream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The vain King-fisher darts, an azure gleam,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And scolds the angler with a mocking scream.</span></p> + +<p class="note">April, 1904.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page147" id="page147" title="147"></a> +THE FOOLISH FIR-TREE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> <i>A tale that the poet Rückert told</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>To German children, in days of old;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Disguised in a random, rollicking rhyme</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Like a merry mummer of ancient time,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>And sent, in its English dress, to please</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>The little folk of the Christmas trees.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A little fir grew in the midst of the wood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Contented and happy, as young trees should.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His body was straight and his boughs were clean;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And summer and winter the bountiful sheen</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of his needles bedecked him, from top to root,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In a beautiful, all-the-year, evergreen suit.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But a trouble came into his heart one day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When he saw that the other trees were gay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the wonderful raiment that summer weaves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of manifold shapes and kinds of leaves:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He looked at his needles so stiff and small,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thought that his dress was the poorest of all.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then jealousy clouded the little tree's mind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And he said to himself, “It was not very kind</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To give such an ugly old dress to a tree!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If the fays of the forest would only ask me,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd tell them how I should like to be dressed,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In a garment of gold, to bedazzle the rest!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So he fell asleep, but his dreams were bad.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page148" id="page148" title="148"></a> +<span class="i0">When he woke in the morning, his heart was glad;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For every leaf that his boughs could hold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was made of the brightest beaten gold.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I tell you, children, the tree was proud;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He was something above the common crowd;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And he tinkled his leaves, as if he would say</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To a pedlar who happened to pass that way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Just look at me! Don't you think I am fine?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And wouldn't you like such a dress as mine?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Oh, yes!” said the man, “and I really guess</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I must fill my pack with your beautiful dress.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So he picked the golden leaves with care,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And left the little tree shivering there.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Oh, why did I wish for golden leaves?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fir-tree said, “I forgot that thieves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Would be sure to rob me in passing by.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If the fairies would give me another try,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd wish for something that cost much less,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And be satisfied with glass for my dress!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then he fell asleep; and, just as before,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fairies granted his wish once more.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When the night was gone, and the sun rose clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tree was a crystal chandelier;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And it seemed, as he stood in the morning light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That his branches were covered with jewels bright.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Aha!” said the tree. “This is something great!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And he held himself up, very proud and straight;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page149" id="page149" title="149"></a> +<span class="i0">But a rude young wind through the forest dashed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In a reckless temper, and quickly smashed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The delicate leaves. With a clashing sound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They broke into pieces and fell on the ground,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a silvery, shimmering shower of hail,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the tree stood naked and bare to the gale.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then his heart was sad; and he cried, “Alas</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For my beautiful leaves of shining glass!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Perhaps I have made another mistake</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In choosing a dress so easy to break.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If the fairies only would hear me again</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd ask them for something both pretty and plain:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It wouldn't cost much to grant my request,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In leaves of green lettuce I'd like to be dressed!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By this time the fairies were laughing, I know;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But they gave him his wish in a second; and so</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With leaves of green lettuce, all tender and sweet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tree was arrayed, from his head to his feet.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I knew it!” he cried, “I was sure I could find</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sort of a suit that would be to my mind.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's none of the trees has a prettier dress,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And none as attractive as I am, I guess.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But a goat, who was taking an afternoon walk,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By chance overheard the fir-tree's talk.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So he came up close for a nearer view;—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“My salad!” he bleated, “I think so too!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You're the most attractive kind of a tree,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page150" id="page150" title="150"></a> +<span class="i0">And I want your leaves for my five-o'clock tea.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So he ate them all without saying grace,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And walked away with a grin on his face;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the little tree stood in the twilight dim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With never a leaf on a single limb.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then he sighed and groaned; but his voice was weak—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He was so ashamed that he could not speak.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He knew at last he had been a fool,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To think of breaking the forest rule,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And choosing a dress himself to please,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Because he envied the other trees.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But it couldn't be helped, it was now too late,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He must make up his mind to a leafless fate!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So he let himself sink in a slumber deep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But he moaned and he tossed in his troubled sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till the morning touched him with joyful beam,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And he woke to find it was all a dream.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For there in his evergreen dress he stood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A pointed fir in the midst of the wood!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His branches were sweet with the balsam smell,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His needles were green when the white snow fell.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And always contented and happy was he,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The very best kind of a Christmas tree.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page151" id="page151" title="151"></a> +“GRAN' BOULE”</h3> + +<h4>A SEAMAN'S TALE OF THE SEA</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We men hat go down for a livin' in ships to the sea,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We love it a different way from you poets that 'bide on the land.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We are fond of it, sure! But, you take it as comin' from me,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's a fear and a hate in our love that a landsman can't understand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, who could help likin' the salty smell, and the blue</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the waves that are lazily breathin' as if they dreamed in the sun?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She's a Sleepin' Beauty, the sea,—but you can't tell what she'll do;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the seamen never trust her,—they know too well what she's done!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She's a wench like one that I saw in a singin'-play,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Carmen they called her,—Lord, what a life her lovers did lead!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She'd cuddle and kiss you, and sing you and dance you away;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then,—she'd curse you, and break you, and throw you down like a weed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page152" id="page152" title="152"></a> +<span class="i0">You may chance it awhile with the girls like that, if you please;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But you want a woman to trust when you settle down with a wife;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And a seaman's thought of growin' old at his ease</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is a snug little house on the land to shelter the rest of his life.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So that was old Poisson's dream,—did you know the Cap'?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A brown little Frenchman, clever, and brave, and quick as a fish,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Had a wife and kids on the other side of the map,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And a rose-covered cottage for them and him was his darlin' wish.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I 'ave sail,” says he, in his broken-up Frenchy talk,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Mos' forty-two year; I 'ave go on all part of de worl' dat ees wet.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'm seeck of de boat and de water. I rader walk</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wid ma Josephine in one garden; an' eef we get tire', we set!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“You see dat <i>bateau</i>, <i>Sainte Brigitte</i>? I bring 'er dh'are</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From de Breton coas', by gar, jus' feefteen year bifore.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She ole w'en she come on Kebec, but <i>Holloway Frères</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dey buy 'er, an' hire me run 'er along dat dam' Nort' Shore.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page153" id="page153" title="153"></a> +<span class="i0">“Dose engine one leetl' bit cranky,—too ole, you see,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She roll and peetch in de wave'. But I lak' 'er pretty well;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' dat sheep she lak' 'er captaine, sure, dat's me!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wit' forty ton coal in de bunker, I tek' dat sheep t'rou' hell.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But I don' wan' risk it no more; I had <i>bonne chance</i>:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I save already ten t'ousan' dollar', dat's plenty I s'pose!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nex' winter I buy dat house wid de garden on France</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' I tell <i>adieu</i> to de sea, and I leev' on de lan' in ripose.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All summer he talked of his house,—you could see the flowers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Abloom, and the pear-trees trained on the garden-wall so trim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the Captain awalkin' and smokin' away the hours,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He thought he had done with the sea, but the sea hadn't done with him!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was late in the fall when he made the last regular run,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Clear down to the Esquimault Point and back with his rickety ship;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She hammered and pounded a lot, for the storms had begun;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But he drove her,—and went for his season's pay at the end of the trip.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page154" id="page154" title="154"></a> +<span class="i0">Now the Holloway Brothers are greedy and thin little men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With their eyes set close together, and money's their only God;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So they told the Cap' he must run the “Bridget” again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To fetch a cargo from Moisie, two thousand quintals of cod.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He said the season was over. They said: “Not yet.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You finish the whole of your job, old man, or you don't draw a cent!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(They had the “Bridget” insured for all they could get.)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the Captain objected, and cursed, and cried. But he <i>went</i>.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They took on the cargo at Moisie, and folks beside,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Three traders, a priest, and a couple of nuns, and a girl</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For a school at Quebec,—when the Captain saw her he sighed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And said: “Ma littl' Fifi got hair lak' dat, all curl!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The snow had fallen a foot, and the wind was high,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When the “Bridget” butted her way thro' the billows on Moisie bar.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The darkness grew with the gale, not a star in the sky,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the Captain swore: “We mus' make <i>Sept Isles</i> to-night, by gar!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page155" id="page155" title="155"></a> +<span class="i0">He couldn't go back, for he didn't dare to turn;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sea would have thrown the ship like a mustang noosed with a rope;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the monstrous waves were leapin' high astern,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the shelter of Seven Island Bay was the only hope.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's a bunch of broken hills half sunk in the mouth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the bay, with their jagged peaks afoam; and the Captain thought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He could pass to the north; but the sea kept shovin' him south,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With her harlot hands, in the snow-blind murk, till she had him caught.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She had waited forty years for a night like this,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Did he think he could leave her now, and live in a cottage, the fool?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She headed him straight for the island he couldn't miss;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And heaved his boat in the dark,—and smashed it against <i>Gran' Boule</i>.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How the Captain and half of the people clambered ashore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the surf and the snow in the gloom of that horrible night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's no one ever will know. For two days more</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The death-white shroud of the tempest covered the island from sight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page156" id="page156" title="156"></a> +<span class="i0">How they suffered, and struggled, and died, will never be told;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We discovered them all at last when we reached <i>Gran' Boule</i> with a boat;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The drowned and the frozen were lyin' stiff and cold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the poor little girl with the curls was wrapped in the Captain's coat.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Go write your song of the sea as the landsmen do,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And call her your “great sweet mother,” your “bride,” and all the rest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She was made to be loved,—but remember, she won't love you,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The men who trust her the least are the sailors who know her the best.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page157" id="page157" title="157"></a> +HEROES OF THE “TITANIC”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Honour the brave who sleep</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where the lost “Titanic” lies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The men who knew what a man must do</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When he looks Death in the eyes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Women and children first,”—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ah, strong and tender cry!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sons whom women had borne and nursed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Remembered,—and dared to die.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The boats crept off in the dark:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The great ship groaned: and then,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O stars of the night, who saw that sight,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Bear witness, <i>These were men</i>!</span></p> + +<p class="note">November 9, 1912.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page158" id="page158" title="158"></a> +THE STANDARD-BEARER</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“How can I tell,” Sir Edmund said,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “Who has the right or the wrong o' this thing?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Cromwell stands for the people's cause,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Charles is crowned by the ancient laws;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">English meadows are sopping red,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Englishmen striking each other dead,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Times are black as a raven's wing.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of the ruck and the murk I see</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Only one thing!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The King has trusted his banner to me,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And I must fight for the King.”</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Into the thick of the Edgehill fight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sir Edmund rode with a shout; and the ring</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of grim-faced, hard-hitting Parliament men</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Swallowed him up,—it was one against ten!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He fought for the standard with all his might,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Never again did he come to sight—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Victor, hid by the raven's wing!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">After the battle had passed we found</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Only one thing,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hand of Sir Edmund gripped around</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The banner-staff of his King.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1914.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page159" id="page159" title="159"></a> +THE PROUD LADY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Stävoren town was in its prime</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And queened the Zuyder Zee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her ships went out to every clime</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With costly merchantry.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A lady dwelt in that rich town,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The fairest in all the land;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She walked abroad in a velvet gown,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With many rings on her hand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her hair was bright as the beaten gold,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her lips as coral red,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her roving eyes were blue and bold,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And her heart with pride was fed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For she was proud of her father's ships,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As she watched them gaily pass;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And pride looked out of her eyes and lips</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When she saw herself in the glass.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Now come,” she said to the captains ten,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who were ready to put to sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Ye are all my men and my father's men,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And what will ye do for me?”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page160" id="page160" title="160"></a> +<span class="i0">“Go north and south, go east and west,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And get me gifts,” she said.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“And he who bringeth me home the best,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With that man will I wed.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So they all fared forth, and sought with care</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In many a famous mart,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For satins and silks and jewels rare,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To win that lady's heart.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looked at them all with never a thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And careless put them by;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I am not fain of the things ye brought,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Enough of these have I.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The last that came was the head of the fleet,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> His name was Jan Borel;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He bent his knee at the lady's feet,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In truth he loved her well.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“I've brought thee home the best i' the world,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A shipful of Danzig corn!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She stared at him long; her red lips curled,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her blue eyes filled with scorn.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A loon thou art,” she said.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Am I a starving beggar girl?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Shall I ever lack for bread?”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page161" id="page161" title="161"></a> +<span class="i0">“Go empty all thy sacks of grain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into the nearest sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And never show thy face again</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To make a mock of me.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Jan Borel, he answered naught,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But in the harbour cast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sacks of golden corn he brought,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And groaned when fell the last.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And out to sea he bore;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He passed the Helder in a gale</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And came again no more.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the grains of corn went drifting down</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Like devil-scattered seed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To sow the harbour of the town</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With a wicked growth of weed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The roots were thick and the silt and sand</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Were gathered day by day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till not a furlong out from land</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A shoal had barred the way.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then Stävoren town saw evil years,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> No ships could out or in,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The boats lay rotting at the piers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the mouldy grain in the bin.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page162" id="page162" title="162"></a> +<span class="i0">The grass-grown streets were all forlorn,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The town in ruin stood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lady's velvet gown was torn,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her rings were sold for food.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her father had perished long ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But the lady held her pride,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She walked with a scornful step and slow,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Till at last in her rags she died.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When the midnight moon shines free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A woman walks in a velvet gown</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And scatters corn in the sea.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1917.</p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page163" id="page163" title="163"></a> +LYRICS OF<br /> +LABOUR AND ROMANCE</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page164" id="page164" title="164"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page165" id="page165" title="165"></a> +A MILE WITH ME</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O who will walk a mile with me</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along life's merry way?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A comrade blithe and full of glee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who dares to laugh out loud and free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And let his frolic fancy play,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a happy child, through the flowers gay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That fill the field and fringe the way</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where he walks a mile with me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And who will walk a mile with me</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along life's weary way?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A friend whose heart has eyes to see</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A friend who knows, and dares to say,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The brave, sweet words that cheer the way</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where he walks a mile with me.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With such a comrade, such a friend,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I fain would walk till journeys end,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through summer sunshine, winter rain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then?—Farewell, we shall meet again!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page166" id="page166" title="166"></a> +THE THREE BEST THINGS</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>WORK</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me but do my work from day to day,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In field or forest, at the desk or loom,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In roaring market-place or tranquil room;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let me but find it in my heart to say,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When vagrant wishes beckon me astray,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “This is my work; my blessing, not my doom;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of all who live, I am the one by whom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This work can best be done in the right way.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then shall I see it not too great, nor small,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To suit my spirit and to prove my powers;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At eventide, to play and love and rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Because I know for me my work is best.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page167" id="page167" title="167"></a> +II</h4> + +<h4>LOVE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me but love my love without disguise,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nor wear a mask of fashion old or new,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nor wait to speak till I can hear a clue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor play a part to shine in others' eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor bow my knees to what my heart denies;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But what I am, to that let me be true,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And let me worship where my love is due,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And so through love and worship let me rise.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For love is but the heart's immortal thirst</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To be completely known and all forgiven,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Even as sinful souls that enter Heaven:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So take me, dear, and understand my worst,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And freely pardon it, because confessed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And let me find in loving thee, my best.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page168" id="page168" title="168"></a> +III</h4> + +<h4>LIFE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me but live my life from year to year,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With forward face and unreluctant soul;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Not hurrying to, nor turning from, the goal;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not mourning for the things that disappear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the dim past, nor holding back in fear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From what the future veils; but with a whole</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And happy heart, that pays its toll</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So let the way wind up the hill or down,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Still seeking what I sought when but a boy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">New friendship, high adventure, and a crown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart will keep the courage of the quest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And hope the road's last turn will be the best.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page169" id="page169" title="169"></a> +RELIANCE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Not to the swift, the race:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Not to the strong, the fight:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not to the righteous, perfect grace</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Not to the wise, the light.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> But often faltering feet</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Come surest to the goal;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And they who walk in darkness meet</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The sunrise of the soul.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> A thousand times by night</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The Syrian hosts have died;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A thousand times the vanquished right</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Hath risen, glorified.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> The truth the wise men sought</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Was spoken by a child;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The alabaster box was brought</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In trembling hands defiled.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Not from my torch, the gleam,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But from the stars above:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Not from my heart, life's crystal stream,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But from the depths of Love.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page170" id="page170" title="170"></a> +DOORS OF DARING</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mountains that inclose the vale</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With walls of granite, steep and high,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Invite the fearless foot to scale</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Their stairway toward the sky.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The restless, deep, dividing sea</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That flows and foams from shore to shore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Calls to its sunburned chivalry,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “Push out, set sail, explore!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bars of life at which we fret,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That seem to prison and control,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are but the doors of daring, set</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ajar before the soul.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Say not, “Too poor,” but freely give;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sigh not, “Too weak,” but boldly try;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You never can begin to live</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Until you dare to die.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page171" id="page171" title="171"></a> +THE CHILD IN THE GARDEN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When to the garden of untroubled thought</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I came of late, and saw the open door,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And wished again to enter, and explore</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It seemed some purer voice must speak before</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I dared to tread that garden loved of yore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That Eden lost unknown and found unsought.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then just within the gate I saw a child,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He held his hands to me, and softly smiled</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Come in,” he said, “and play awhile with me;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am the little child you used to be.”</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page172" id="page172" title="172"></a> +LOVE'S REASON</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For that thy face is fair I love thee not;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nor yet because thy brown benignant eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Have sudden gleams of gladness and surprise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like woodland brooks that cross a sunlit spot:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor for thy body, born without a blot,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And loveliest when it shines with no disguise</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Pure as the star of Eve in Paradise,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all these outward things I love thee not:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But for a something in thy form and face,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy looks and ways, of primal harmony;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A certain soothing charm, a vital grace</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That breathes of the eternal womanly,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And makes me feel the warmth of Nature's breast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When in her arms, and thine, I sink to rest.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page173" id="page173" title="173"></a> +THE ECHO IN THE HEART</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's little I can tell</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> About the birds in books;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet I know them well,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> By their music and their looks:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> When May comes down the lane,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Her airy lovers throng</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> To welcome her with song,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And follow in her train:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Each minstrel weaves his part</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In that wild-flowery strain,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And I know them all again</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> By their echo in my heart.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's little that I care</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> About my darling's place</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In books of beauty rare,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Or heraldries of race:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> For when she steps in view,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> It matters not to me</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> What her sweet type may be,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Of woman, old or new.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> I can't explain the art,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> But I know her for my own,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Because her lightest tone</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Wakes an echo in my heart.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page174" id="page174" title="174"></a> +“UNDINE”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas far away and long ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When I was but a dreaming boy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This fairy tale of love and woe</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Entranced my heart with tearful joy;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And while with white Undine I wept</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your spirit,—ah, how strange it seems,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was cradled in some star, and slept,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Unconscious of her coming dreams.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page175" id="page175" title="175"></a> +“RENCONTRE”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, was I born too soon, my dear, or were you born too late,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That I am going out the door while you come in the gate?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For you the garden blooms galore, the castle is <i>en fête</i>;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You are the coming guest, my dear,—for me the horses wait.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know the mansion well, my dear, its rooms so rich and wide;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If you had only come before I might have been your guide,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And hand in hand with you explore the treasures that they hide;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But you have come to stay, my dear, and I prepare to ride.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then walk with me an hour, my dear, and pluck the reddest rose</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the white and crimson store with which your garden glows,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A single rose,—I ask no more of what your love bestows;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It is enough to give, my dear,—a flower to him who goes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page176" id="page176" title="176"></a> +<span class="i0">The House of Life is yours, my dear, for many and many a day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But I must ride the lonely shore, the Road to Far Away:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So bring the stirrup-cup and pour a brimming draught, I pray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when you take the road, my dear, I'll meet you on the way.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page177" id="page177" title="177"></a> +LOVE IN A LOOK</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me but feel thy look's embrace,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Transparent, pure, and warm,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I'll not ask to touch thy face,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Or fold thee in mine arm.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For in thine eyes a girl doth rise,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Arrayed in candid bliss,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And draws me to her with a charm</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> More close than any kiss.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A loving-cup of golden wine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Songs of a silver brook,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fragrant breaths of eglantine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Are mingled in thy look.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More fair they are than any star,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy topaz eyes divine—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And deep within their trysting-nook</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy spirit blends with mine.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page178" id="page178" title="178"></a> +MY APRIL LADY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When down the stair at morning</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The sunbeams round her float,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet rivulets of laughter</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Are rippling in her throat;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gladness of her greeting</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Is gold without alloy;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in the morning sunlight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I think her name is Joy.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When in the evening twilight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The quiet book-room lies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We read the sad old ballads,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While from her hidden eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tears are falling, falling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That give her heart relief;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in the evening twilight,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I think her name is Grief.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My little April lady,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of sunshine and of showers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She weaves the old spring magic,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And my heart breaks in flowers!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when her moods are ended,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> She nestles like a dove;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, by the pain and rapture,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I know her name is Love.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page179" id="page179" title="179"></a> +A LOVER'S ENVY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I envy every flower that blows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the meadow where she goes,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And every bird that sings to her,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And every breeze that brings to her</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The fragrance of the rose.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I envy every poet's rhyme</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That moves her heart at eventime,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And every tree that wears for her</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Its brightest bloom, and bears for her</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The fruitage of its prime.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I envy every Southern night</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That paves her path with moonbeams white,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And silvers all the leaves for her,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And in their shadow weaves for her</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A dream of dear delight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I envy none whose love requires</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of her a gift, a task that tires:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I only long to live to her,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I only ask to give to her,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> All that her heart desires.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page180" id="page180" title="180"></a> +FIRE-FLY CITY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Bearing me far away, after a perfect day of love's delight:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wakeful with all the sad-sweet memories of parting,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I lift the narrow window-shade and look out on the night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lonely the land unknown, and like a river flowing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Forest and field and hill are gliding backward still athwart my dream;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till in that country strange, and ever stranger growing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A magic city full of lights begins to glow and gleam.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wide through the landscape dim the lamps are lit in millions;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Long avenues unfold clear-shining lines of gold across the green;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Clusters and rings of light, and luminous pavilions,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Oh, who will tell the city's name, and what these wonders mean?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Why do they beckon me, and what have they to show me?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Crowds in the blazing street, mirth where the feasters meet, kisses and wine:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page181" id="page181" title="181"></a> +<span class="i0">Many to laugh with me, but never one to know me:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A cityful of stranger-hearts and none to beat with mine!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look how the glittering lines are wavering and lifting,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Softly the breeze of night scatters the vision bright: and, passing fair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the meadow-grass and through the forest drifting,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The Fire-Fly City of the Dark is lost in empty air!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page182" id="page182" title="182"></a> +THE GENTLE TRAVELLER</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Through many a land your journey ran,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And showed the best the world can boast:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now tell me, traveller, if you can,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The place that pleased you most.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She laid her hands upon my breast,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And murmured gently in my ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“The place I loved and liked the best</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Was in your arms, my dear!”</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page183" id="page183" title="183"></a> +NEPENTHE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, it was like you to forget,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cancel in the welcome of your smile</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My deep arrears of debt,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And with the putting forth of both your hands</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To sweep away the bars my folly set</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Between us—bitter thoughts, and harsh demands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And reckless deeds that seemed untrue</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To love, when all the while</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart was aching through and through</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For you, sweet heart, and only you.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, as I turned to come to you again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I thought there must be many a mile</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sorrowful reproach to cross,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many an hour of mutual pain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To bear, until I could make plain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That all my pride was but the fear of loss,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all my doubt the shadow of despair</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To win a heart so innocent and fair;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And even that which looked most ill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was but the fever-fret and effort vain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To dull the thirst which you alone could still.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But as I turned, the desert miles were crossed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when I came, the weary hours were sped!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page184" id="page184" title="184"></a> +<span class="i0">For there you stood beside the open door,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Glad, gracious, smiling as before,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And with bright eyes and tender hands outspread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Restored me to the Eden I had lost.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Never a word of cold reproof,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No sharp reproach, no glances that accuse</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The culprit whom they hold aloof,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, 'tis not thus that other women use</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The empire they have won!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For there is none like you, beloved,—none</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Secure enough to do what you have done.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where did you learn this heavenly art,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You sweetest and most wise of all that live,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With silent welcome to impart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Assurance of the royal heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That never questions where it would forgive?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">None but a queen could pardon me like this!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My sovereign lady, let me lay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within each rosy palm a loyal kiss</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of penitence, then close the fingers up,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thus—thus! Now give the cup</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of full nepenthe in your crimson mouth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And come—the garden blooms with bliss,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wind is in the south,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The rose of love with dew is wet—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear, it was like you to forget!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page185" id="page185" title="185"></a> +DAY AND NIGHT</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>How long is the night, brother,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>And how long is the day?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, the day's too short for a happy task,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the day's too short for play;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the night's too short for the bliss of love,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For look, how the edge of the sky grows gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the stars die out in the blue above,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the wan moon fades away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>How short is the day, brother,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>And how short is the night?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, the day's too long for a heavy task,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And long, long, long is the night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When the wakeful hours are filled with pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the sad heart waits for the thing it fears,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sighs for the dawn to come again,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The night is a thousand years!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>How long is a life, dear God,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>And how fast does it flow?</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The measure of life is a flame in the soul:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It is neither swift nor slow.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the vision of time is the shadow cast</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> By the fleeting world on the body's wall;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When it fades there is neither future nor past,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But love is all in all.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page186" id="page186" title="186"></a> +HESPER</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her eyes are like the evening air,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her voice is like a rose,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her lips are like a lovely song,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That ripples as it flows,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And she herself is sweeter than</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The sweetest thing she knows.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A slender, haunting, twilight form</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of wonder and surprise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She seemed a fairy or a child,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Till, deep within her eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I saw the homeward-leading star</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of womanhood arise.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page187" id="page187" title="187"></a> +ARRIVAL</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along a path I had not traced and could not understand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I travelled fast and far for this,—to take thee by the hand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A pilgrim knowing not the shrine where he would bend his knee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A mariner without a dream of what his port would be,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So fared I with a seeking heart until I came to thee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O cooler than a grove of palm in some heat-weary place,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O fairer than an isle of calm after the wild sea race,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The quiet room adorned with flowers where first I saw thy face!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then furl the sail, let fall the oar, forget the paths of foam!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fate that made me wander far at last has brought me home</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To thee, dear haven of my heart, and I no more will roam.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page188" id="page188" title="188"></a> +DEPARTURE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And why is the garden so gay?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Do you know that my days of delight are done,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Do you know I am going away?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If you covered your face with a cloud, I'd dream</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You were sorry for me in my pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the heavily drooping flowers would seem</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To be weeping with me in the rain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But why is your head so low, sweet heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And why are your eyes overcast?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are you crying because you know we must part,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Do you think this embrace is our last?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then kiss me again, and again, and again,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Look up as you bid me good-bye!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For your face is too dear for the stain of a tear,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And your smile is the sun in my sky.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page189" id="page189" title="189"></a> +THE BLACK BIRDS</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once, only once, I saw it clear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That Eden every human heart has dreamed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred times, but always far away!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, well do I remember how it seemed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the still atmosphere</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of that enchanted day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To lie wide open to my weary feet:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A little land of love and joy and rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With meadows of soft green,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rosy with cyclamen, and sweet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With delicate breath of violets unseen,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And, tranquil 'mid the bloom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if it waited for a coming guest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A little house of peace and joy and love</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was nested like a snow-white dove.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the rough mountain where I stood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Homesick for happiness,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only a narrow valley and a darkling wood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To cross, and then the long distress</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of solitude would be forever past,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I should be home at last.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page190" id="page190" title="190"></a> +<span class="i0">But not too soon! oh, let me linger here</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And feed my eyes, hungry with sorrow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On all this loveliness, so near,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And mine to-morrow!</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, from the wood, across the silvery blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A dark bird flew,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silent, with sable wings.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Close in his wake another came,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fragments of midnight floating through</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sunset flame,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Another and another, weaving rings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of blackness on the primrose sky,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Another, and another, look, a score,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred, yes, a thousand rising heavily</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From that accursed, dumb, and ancient wood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They boiled into the lucid air</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like smoke from some deep caldron of despair!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And more, and more, and ever more,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The numberless, ill-omened brood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flapping their ragged plumes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Possessed the landscape and the evening light</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With menaces and glooms.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, dark, dark, dark they hovered o'er the place</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where once I saw the little house so white</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the flowers, covering every trace</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page191" id="page191" title="191"></a> +<span class="i0">Of beauty from my troubled sight,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And suddenly it was night!</span></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At break of day I crossed the wooded vale;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And while the morning made</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A trembling light among the tree-tops pale,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I saw the sable birds on every limb,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Clinging together closely in the shade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And croaking placidly their surly hymn.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But, oh, the little land of peace and love</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That those night-loving wings had poised above,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where was it gone?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lost, lost, forevermore!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only a cottage, dull and gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the cold light of dawn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With iron bars across the door:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only a garden where the drooping head</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of one sad rose, foreboding its decay,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hung o'er a barren bed:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only a desolate field that lay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Untilled beneath the desolate day,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where Eden seemed to bloom I found but these!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So, wondering, I passed along my way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With anger in my heart, too deep for words,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against that grove of evil-sheltering trees,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the black magic of the croaking birds.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page192" id="page192" title="192"></a> +WITHOUT DISGUISE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If I have erred in showing all my heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And lost your favour by a lack of pride;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> If standing like a beggar at your side</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With naked feet, I have forgot the art</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of those who bargain well in passion's mart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And win the thing they want by what they hide;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Be mine the fault as mine the hope denied,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Be mine the lover's and the loser's part.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sin, if sin it was, I do repent,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And take the penance on myself alone;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet after I have borne the punishment,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I shall not fear to stand before the throne</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Love with open heart, and make this plea:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“At least I have not lied to her nor Thee!”</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page193" id="page193" title="193"></a> +AN HOUR</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You only promised me a single hour:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But in that hour I journeyed through a year</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of life: the joy of finding you,—the fear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of losing you again,—the sense of power</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make you all my own,—the sudden shower</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of tears that came because you were more dear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Than words could ever tell you,—then,—the clear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Soft rapture when I plucked love's crimson flower.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An hour,—a year,—I felt your bosom rise</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And fall with mystic tides, and saw the gleam</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of undiscovered stars within your eyes,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A year,—an hour? I knew not, for the stream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of love had carried me to Paradise,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where all the forms of Time are like a dream.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page194" id="page194" title="194"></a> +“RAPPELLE-TOI”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember, when the timid light</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through the enchanted hall of dawn is gleaming;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Remember, when the pensive night</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beneath her silver-sprinkled veil walks dreaming;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> When pleasure calls thee and thy heart beats high,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> When tender joys through evening shades draw nigh,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Hark, from the woodland deeps</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> A gentle whisper creeps,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Remember!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember, when the hand of fate</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My life from thine forevermore has parted;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When sorrow, exile, and the weight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of lonely years have made me heavy-hearted;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Think of my loyal love, my last adieu;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Absence and time are naught, if we are true;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Long as my heart shall beat,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> To thine it will repeat,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Remember!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page195" id="page195" title="195"></a> +<span class="i0">Remember, when the cool, dark tomb</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Receives my heart into its quiet keeping,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And some sweet flower begins to bloom</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Above the grassy mound where I am sleeping;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Ah then, my face thou nevermore shalt see,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But still my soul will linger close to thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And in the holy place of night,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The litany of love recite,—</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Remember!</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Freely rendered from the French of Alfred de Musset.</i></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page196" id="page196" title="196"></a> +LOVE'S NEARNESS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Across the sea;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the waves reflect the moon's pale shimmer</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> I think of thee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see thy form when down the distant highway</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> The dust-clouds rise;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In darkest night, above the mountain by-way</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> I see thine eyes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Aloud rejoice;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And on the lonely moor in silence yearning</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> I hear thy voice.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I dwell with thee; though thou art far removed,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Yet thou art near.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sun goes down, the stars shine out,—Beloved</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> If thou wert here!</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>From the German of Goethe</i>, 1898.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page197" id="page197" title="197"></a> +TWO SONGS OF HEINE</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>“EIN FICHTENBAUM”</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A fir-tree standeth lonely</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On a barren northern height,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Asleep, while winter covers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His rest with robes of white.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In dreams, he sees a palm-tree</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the golden morning-land;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She droops alone and silent</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In burning wastes of sand.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>“DU BIST WIE EINE BLUME”</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair art thou as a flower</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And innocent and shy:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I look on thee and sorrow;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I grieve, I know not why.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I long to lay, in blessing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My hand upon thy brow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And pray that God may keep thee</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As fair and pure as now.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1872.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page198" id="page198" title="198"></a> +EIGHT ECHOES FROM THE POEMS OF +AUGUSTE ANGELLIER</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>THE IVORY CRADLE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cradle I have made for thee</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is carved of orient ivory,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And curtained round with wavy silk</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More white than hawthorn-bloom or milk.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A twig of box, a lilac spray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will drive the goblin-horde away;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And charm thy childlike heart to keep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her happy dream and virgin sleep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within that pure and fragrant nest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll rock thy gentle soul to rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With tender songs we need not fear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To have a passing angel hear.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, long and long I fain would hold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The snowy curtain's guardian fold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Around thy crystal visions, born</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In clearness of the early morn.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But look, the sun is glowing red</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With triumph in his golden bed;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page199" id="page199" title="199"></a> +<span class="i0">Aurora's virgin whiteness dies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In crimson glory of the skies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rapid flame will burn its way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through these white curtains, too, one day;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ivory cradle will be left</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Undone, and broken, and bereft.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page200" id="page200" title="200"></a> +II</h4> + +<h4>DREAMS</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Often I dream your big blue eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Though loth their meaning to confess,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Regard me with a clear surprise</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of dawning tenderness.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Often I dream you gladly hear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The words I hardly dare to breathe,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The words that falter in their fear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To tell what throbs beneath.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Often I dream your hand in mine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Falls like a flower at eventide,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And down the path we leave a line</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of footsteps side by side.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ah, in all my dreams of bliss,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In passion's hunger, fever's drouth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I never dare to dream of this:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My lips upon your mouth.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so I dream your big blue eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That look on me with tenderness,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Grow wide, and deep, and sad, and wise,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And dim with dear distress.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page201" id="page201" title="201"></a> +III</h4> + +<h4>THE GARLAND OF SLEEP</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wreath of poppy flowers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With leaves of lotus blended,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is carved on Life's facade of hours,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From night to night suspended.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Along the columned wall,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From birth's low portal starting,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It flows, with even rise and fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To death's dark door of parting.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How short each measured arc,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> How brief the columns' number!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wreath begins and ends in dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And leads from sleep to slumber.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The marble garland seems,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With braided leaf and bloom,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To deck the palace of our dreams</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As if it were a tomb.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page202" id="page202" title="202"></a> +IV</h4> + +<h4>TRANQUIL HABIT</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear tranquil Habit, with her silent hands,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Doth heal our deepest wounds from day to day</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With cooling, soothing oil, and firmly lay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Around the broken heart her gentle bands.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her nursing is as calm as Nature's care;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> She doth not weep with us; yet none the less</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her quiet fingers weave forgetfulness,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We fall asleep in peace when she is there.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the mirror of the mind her breath</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Is like a cloud, to hide the fading trace</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of that dear smile, of that remembered face,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose presence were the joy and pang of death.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he who clings to sorrow overmuch,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Weeping for withered grief, has cause to bless,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> More than all cries of pity and distress,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear tranquil Habit, thy consoling touch!</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page203" id="page203" title="203"></a> +V</h4> + +<h4>THE OLD BRIDGE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the old, old bridge, with its crumbling stones</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All covered with lichens red and gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Two lovers were talking in sweet low tones:</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> And we were they!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As he leaned to breathe in her willing ear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The love that he vowed would never die,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He called her his darling, his dove most dear:</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> And he was I!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She covered her face from the pale moonlight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With her trembling hands, but her eyes looked through,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And listened and listened with long delight:</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> And she was you!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the old, old bridge, where the lichens rust,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Two lovers are learning the same old lore;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He tells his love, and she looks her trust:</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> But we,—no more!</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page204" id="page204" title="204"></a> +VI</h4> + +<h4>EYES AND LIPS</h4> + +<h4>1</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our silent eyes alone interpreted</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The new-born feeling in the heart of each:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In yours I read your sorrow without speech,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your lonely struggle in their tears unshed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behind their dreamy sweetness, as a veil,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I saw the moving lights of trouble shine;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And then my eyes were brightened as with wine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My spirit reeled to see your face grow pale!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our deepening love, that is not yet allowed</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Another language than the eyes, doth learn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To speak it perfectly: above the crowd</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our looks exchange avowals and desires,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Like wave-divided beacon lights that burn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And talk to one another by their fires.</span></p> + +<h4>2</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When I embrace her in a fragrant shrine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of climbing roses, my first kiss shall fall</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> On you, sweet eyes, that mutely told me all,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through you my soul will rise to make her mine.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon your drooping lids, blue-veined and fair,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The touch of tenderness I first will lay,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page205" id="page205" title="205"></a> +<span class="i1"> You springs of joy, lights of my gloomy day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose dear discovered secret bade me dare!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when you open, eyes of my fond dove,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your look will shine with new delight, made sure</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By this forerunner of a faithful love.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Tis just, dear eyes, so pensive and so pure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That you should bear the sealing kisses true</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of love unhoped that came to me through you.</span></p> + +<h4>3</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This was my thought; but when beneath the rose</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That hides the lonely bench where lovers rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In friendly dusk I held her on my breast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For one brief moment,—while I saw you close,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear, yielding eyes, as if your lids, blue-veined</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And pure, were meekly fain at last to bear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The proffered homage of my wistful prayer,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In that high moment, by your grace obtained,</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forgetting your avowals, your alarms,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your anguish and your tears, sweet weary eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forgetting that you gave her to my arms,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I broke my promise; and my first caress,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ungrateful, sought her lips in sweet surprise,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her lips, which breathed a word of tenderness!</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page206" id="page206" title="206"></a> +VII</h4> + +<h4>AN EVOCATION</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When first upon my brow I felt your kiss,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A sudden splendour filled me, like the ray</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That promptly runs to crown the hills with bliss</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of purple dawn before the golden day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And ends the gloom it crosses at one leap.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My brow was not unworthy your caress;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For some foreboding joy had bade me keep</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From all affront the place your lips would bless.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet when your mouth upon my mouth did lay</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The royal touch, no rapture made me thrill,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But I remained confused, ashamed, and still.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beneath your kiss, my queen without a stain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I felt,—like ghosts who rise at Judgment Day,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A throng of ancient kisses vile and vain!</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page207" id="page207" title="207"></a> +VIII</h4> + +<h4>RESIGNATION</h4> + +<h4>1</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well, you will triumph, dear and noble friend!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The holy love that wounded you so deep</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Will bring you balm, and on your heart asleep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fragrant dew of healing will descend.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your children,—ah, how quickly they will grow</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Between us, like a wall that fronts the sun,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lifting a screen with rosy buds o'errun,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To hide the shaded path where I must go.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You'll walk in light; and dreaming less and less</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of him who droops in gloom beyond the wall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your mother-soul will fill with happiness</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When first you hear your grandchild's babbling call,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the braided bloom of flower and leaf</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That We has wrought to veil your vanished grief.</span></p> + +<h4>2</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then I alone shall suffer! I shall bear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The double burden of our grief alone,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While I enlarge my soul to take your share</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of pain and hold it close beside my own.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our love is torn asunder; but the crown</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of thorns that love has woven I will make</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page208" id="page208" title="208"></a> +<span class="i0">My relic sacrosanct, and press it down</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Upon my bleeding heart that will not break.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, that will be the depth of solitude!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For my regret, that evermore endures,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Will know that new-born hope has conquered yours;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the evening comes, no gentle brood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of wondering children, gathered at my side,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will soothe away the tears I cannot hide.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Freely rendered from the French</i>, 1911.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page209" id="page209" title="209"></a> +RAPPEL D'AMOUR</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come home, my love, come home!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The twilight is falling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The whippoorwill calling,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The night is very near,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the darkness full of fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come home to my arms, come home!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come home, my love, come home!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In folly we parted,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And now, lonely hearted,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I know you look in vain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For a love like mine again;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come home to my arms, come home!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come home, dear love, come home!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I've much to forgive you,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And more yet to give you.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I'll put a little light</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the window every night,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come home to my arms, come home.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page210" id="page210" title="210"></a> +THE RIVER OF DREAMS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river of dreams runs quietly down</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> From its hidden home in the forest of sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With a measureless motion calm and deep;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And my boat slips out on the current brown,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In a tranquil bay where the trees incline</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Far over the waves, and creepers twine</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Far over the boughs, as if to steep</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Their drowsy bloom in the tide that goes</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> By a secret way that no man knows,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Under the branches bending,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Under the shadows blending,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the body rests, and the passive soul</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Is drifted along to an unseen goal,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the river of dreams runs down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river of dreams runs gently down,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With a leisurely flow that bears my bark</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Out of the visionless woods of dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into a glory that seems to crown</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Valley and hill with light from far,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Clearer than sun or moon or star,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Luminous, wonderful, weird, oh, mark</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> How the radiance pulses everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In the shadowless vault of lucid air!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the mountains shimmering,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Up from the fountains glimmering,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page211" id="page211" title="211"></a> +<span class="i2"> Tis the mystical glow of the inner light,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That shines in the very noon of night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the river of dreams runs down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river of dreams runs murmuring down,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Through the fairest garden that ever grew;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And now, as my boat goes drifting through,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred voices arise to drown</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The river's whisper, and charm my ear</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With a sound I have often longed to hear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A magical music, strange and new,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The wild-rose ballad, the lilac-song,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The virginal chant of the lilies' throng,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blue-bells silverly ringing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pansies merrily singing,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For all the flowers have found their voice;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And I feel no wonder, but only rejoice,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the river of dreams runs down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river of dreams runs broadening down,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Away from the peaceful garden-shore,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With a current that deepens more and more,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the league-long walls of a mighty town;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And I see the hurrying crowds of men</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Gather like clouds and dissolve again;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But never a face I have seen before.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> They come and go, they shift and change,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Their ways and looks are wild and strange,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page212" id="page212" title="212"></a> +<span class="i0">This is a city haunted,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A multitude enchanted!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> At the sight of the throng I am dumb with fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And never a sound from their lips I hear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the river of dreams runs down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river of dreams runs darkly down</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Into the heart of a desolate land,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With ruined temples half-buried in sand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And riven hills, whose black brows frown</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Over the shuddering, lonely wave.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The air grows dim with the dust of the grave;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> No sign of life on the dreary strand;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> No ray of light on the mountain's crest;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And a weary wind that cannot rest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Comes down the valley creeping,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lamenting, wailing, weeping,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> I strive to cry out, but my fluttering breath</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Is choked with the clinging fog of death,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the river of dreams runs down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river of dreams runs trembling down,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Out of the valley of nameless fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Into a country calm and clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With a mystical name of high renown,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A name that I know, but may not tell,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And there the friends that I loved so well,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Old companions forever dear,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page213" id="page213" title="213"></a> +<span class="i2"> Come beckoning down to the river shore,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And hail my boat with the voice of yore.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fair and sweet are the places</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where I see their unchanged faces!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And I feel in my heart with a secret thrill,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That the loved and lost are living still,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the river of dreams runs down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The river of dreams runs dimly down</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> By a secret way that no man knows;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But the soul lives on while the river flows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the gardens bright and the forests brown;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And I often think that our whole life seems</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To be more than half made up of dreams.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The changing sights and the passing shows,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The morning hopes and the midnight fears,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Are left behind with the vanished years;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Onward, with ceaseless motion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The life-stream flows to the ocean,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> While we follow the tide, awake or asleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Till we see the dawn on Love's great deep,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the shadows melt, and the soul is free,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The river of dreams has reached the sea.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1900.</p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page214" id="page214" title="214"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page215" id="page215" title="215"></a> +SONGS OF<br /> +HEARTH AND ALTAR</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page216" id="page216" title="216"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page217" id="page217" title="217"></a> +A HOME SONG</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I read within a poet's book</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A word that starred the page:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Stone walls do not a prison make,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nor iron bars a cage!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, that is true, and something more:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You'll find, where'er you roam,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That marble floors and gilded walls</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Can never make a home.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But every house where Love abides,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And Friendship is a guest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is surely home, and home-sweet-home:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For there the heart can rest.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page218" id="page218" title="218"></a> +“LITTLE BOATIE”</h3> + +<h4>A SLUMBER-SONG FOR THE FISHERMAN'S CHILD</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Furl your sail, my little boatie;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Here's the haven still and deep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the dreaming tides in-streaming</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Up the channel creep.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now the sunset breeze is dying;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hear the plover, landward flying,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Softly down the twilight crying;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Come to anchor, little boatie,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In the port of Sleep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far away, my little boatie,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Roaring waves are white with foam;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ships are striving, onward driving,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Day and night they roam.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Father's at the deep-sea trawling,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the darkness, rowing, hauling,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the hungry winds are calling,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> God protect him, little boatie,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Bring him safely home!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for you, my little boatie,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Is the wide and weary sea;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You're too slender, and too tender,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> You must bide with me.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page219" id="page219" title="219"></a> +<span class="i0">All day long you have been straying</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Up and down the shore and playing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come to harbour, no delaying!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Day is over, little boatie,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Night falls suddenly.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Furl your sail, my little boatie,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Fold your wings, my weary dove.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dews are sprinkling, stars are twinkling</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Drowsily above.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Cease from sailing, cease from rowing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rock upon the dream-tide, knowing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Safely o'er your rest are glowing,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> All the night, my little boatie,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Harbour-lights of love.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1897.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page220" id="page220" title="220"></a> +A MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord Jesus, Thou hast known</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A mother's love and tender care:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And Thou wilt hear,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> While for my own</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Mother most dear</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> I make this birthday prayer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Protect her life, I pray,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who gave the gift of life to me;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And may she know,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> From day to day,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The deepening glow</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of joy that comes from Thee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As once upon her breast</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fearless and well content I lay,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> So let her heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> On Thee at rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Feel fear depart</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And trouble fade away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, hold her by the hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As once her hand held mine;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And though she may</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Not understand</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Life's winding way,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Lead her in peace divine.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page221" id="page221" title="221"></a> +<span class="i0">I cannot pay my debt</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For all the love that she has given;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> But Thou, love's Lord,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Wilt not forget</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Her due reward,—</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Bless her in earth and heaven.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page222" id="page222" title="222"></a> +TRANSFORMATION</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only a little shrivelled seed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It might be flower, or grass, or weed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only a box of earth on the edge</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of a narrow, dusty window-ledge;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only a few scant summer showers;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only a few clear shining hours;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That was all. Yet God could make</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of these, for a sick child's sake,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A blossom-wonder, fair and sweet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As ever broke at an angel's feet.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only a life of barren pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wet with sorrowful tears for rain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Warmed sometimes by a wandering gleam</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of joy, that seemed but a happy dream;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A life as common and brown and bare</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As the box of earth in the window there;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet it bore, at last, the precious bloom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of a perfect soul in that narrow room;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pure as the snowy leaves that fold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the flower's heart of gold.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page223" id="page223" title="223"></a> +RENDEZVOUS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I count that friendship little worth</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Which has not many things untold,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Great longings that no words can hold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And passion-secrets waiting birth.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Along the slender wires of speech</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Some message from the heart is sent;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But who can tell the whole that's meant?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our dearest thoughts are out of reach.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have not seen thee, though mine eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Hold now the image of thy face;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In vain, through form, I strive to trace</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The soul I love: that deeper lies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A thousand accidents control</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our meeting here. Clasp hand in hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And swear to meet me in that land</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where friends hold converse soul to soul.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page224" id="page224" title="224"></a> +GRATITUDE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Do you give thanks for this?—or that?” No, God be thanked</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> I am not grateful</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In that cold, calculating way, with blessings ranked</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As one, two, three, and four,—that would be hateful.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I only know that every day brings good above</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> My poor deserving;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I only feel that in the road of Life true Love</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Is leading me along and never swerving.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whatever gifts and mercies to my lot may fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> I would not measure</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As worth a certain price in praise, or great or small;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But take and use them all with simple pleasure.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For when we gladly eat our daily bread, we bless</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> The Hand that feeds us;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when we tread the road of Life in cheerfulness,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our very heart-beats praise the Love that leads us.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page225" id="page225" title="225"></a> +PEACE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With eager heart and will on fire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I strove to win my great desire.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Peace shall be mine,” I said; but life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Grew bitter in the barren strife.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My soul was weary, and my pride</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was wounded deep; to Heaven I cried,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“God grant me peace or I must die;”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The dumb stars glittered no reply.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Broken at last, I bowed my head,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forgetting all myself, and said,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Whatever comes, His will be done;”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in that moment peace was won.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page226" id="page226" title="226"></a> +SANTA CHRISTINA</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Saints are God's flowers, fragrant souls</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That His own hand hath planted,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not in some far-off heavenly place,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Or solitude enchanted,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But here and there and everywhere,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In lonely field, or crowded town,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> God sees a flower when He looks down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some wear the lily's stainless white,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And some the rose of passion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And some the violet's heavenly blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But each in its own fashion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With silent bloom and soft perfume,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Is praising Him who from above</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beholds each lifted face of love.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One such I knew,—and had the grace</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To thank my God for knowing:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The beauty of her quiet life</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Was like a rose in blowing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So fair and sweet, so all-complete</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And all unconscious, as a flower,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That light and fragrance were her dower.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page227" id="page227" title="227"></a> +<span class="i0">No convent-garden held this rose,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Concealed like secret treasure;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No royal terrace guarded her</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For some sole monarch's pleasure.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She made her shrine, this saint of mine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In a bright home where children played;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And there she wrought and there she prayed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In sunshine, when the days were glad,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> She had the art of keeping</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The clearest rays, to give again</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In days of rain and weeping;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her blessed heart could still impart</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Some portion of its secret grace,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And charity shone in her face.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In joy she grew from year to year;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And sorrow made her sweeter;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every comfort, still more kind;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And every loss, completer.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her children came to love her name,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “Christina,”—'twas a lip's caress;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And when they called, they seemed to bless.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page228" id="page228" title="228"></a> +<span class="i0">No more they call, for she is gone</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Too far away to hear them;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet they often breathe her name</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As if she lingered near them;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They cannot reach her with love's speech,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But when they say “Christina” now</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> 'Tis like a prayer or like a vow:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A vow to keep her life alive</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In deeds of pure affection,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So that her love shall find in them</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A daily resurrection;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A constant prayer that they may wear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Some touch of that supernal light</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With which she blossoms in God's sight.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page229" id="page229" title="229"></a> +THE BARGAIN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What shall I give for thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thou Pearl of greatest price?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all the treasures I possess</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Would not suffice.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I give my store of gold;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It is but earthly dross:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But thou wilt make me rich, beyond</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All fear of loss.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mine honours I resign;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> They are but small at best:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou like a royal star wilt shine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Upon my breast.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My worldly joys I give,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The flowers with which I played;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy beauty, far more heavenly fair,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Shall never fade.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Lord, is that enough?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Nay, not a thousandth part.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Well, then, I have but one thing more:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Take Thou my heart.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page230" id="page230" title="230"></a> +TO THE CHILD JESUS</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>THE NATIVITY</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could every time-worn heart but see Thee once again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A happy human child, among the homes of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The age of doubt would pass,—the vision of Thy face</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Would silently restore the childhood of the race.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou wayfaring Jesus, a pilgrim and stranger,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Exiled from heaven by love at thy birth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Exiled again from thy rest in the manger,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A fugitive child 'mid the perils of earth,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Cheer with thy fellowship all who are weary,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Wandering far from the land that they love;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Safe to its home in thy presence above.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page231" id="page231" title="231"></a> +BITTER-SWEET</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Just to give up, and trust</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> All to a Fate unknown,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Plodding along life's road in the dust,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Bounded by walls of stone;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Never to have a heart at peace;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Never to see when care will cease;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Just to be still when sorrows fall—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This is the bitterest lesson of all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Just to give up, and rest</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> All on a Love secure,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Out of a world that's hard at the best,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Looking to heaven as sure;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ever to hope, through cloud and fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In darkest night, that the dawn is near;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Just to wait at the Master's feet—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Surely, now, the bitter is sweet.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page232" id="page232" title="232"></a> +HYMN OF JOY</h3> + +<h4>TO THE MUSIC OF BEETHOVEN'S NINTH SYMPHONY</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> God of glory, Lord of love;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Praising Thee their sun above.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Melt the clouds of sin and sadness;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Drive the dark of doubt away;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Giver of immortal gladness,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fill us with the light of day!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All Thy works with joy surround Thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Stars and angels sing around Thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Centre of unbroken praise:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Field and forest, vale and mountain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Blooming meadow, flashing sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Chanting bird and flowing fountain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Call us to rejoice in Thee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou art giving and forgiving,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ever blessing, ever blest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Well-spring of the joy of living,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ocean-depth of happy rest!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All who live in love are Thine:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Teach us how to love each other,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lift us to the Joy Divine.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page233" id="page233" title="233"></a> +<span class="i0">Mortals join the mighty chorus,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Which the morning stars began;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Father-love is reigning o'er us,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Brother-love binds man to man.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ever singing march we onward,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Victors in the midst of strife;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Joyful music lifts us sunward</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the triumph song of life.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1908.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page234" id="page234" title="234"></a> +SONG OF A PILGRIM-SOUL</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">March swiftly on. Yet err not from the way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where all the nobly wise of old have trod,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The path of faith, made by the sons of God.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Follow the marks that they have set beside</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The narrow, cloud-swept track, to be thy guide:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Follow, and honour what the past has gained,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And forward still, that more may be attained.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Something to learn, and something to forget:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hold fast the good, and seek the better yet:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Press on, and prove the pilgrim-hope of youth:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Creeds are milestones on the road to Truth.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page235" id="page235" title="235"></a> +ODE TO PEACE</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>IN EXCELSIS</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two dwellings, Peace, are thine.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> One is the mountain-height,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Uplifted in the loneliness of light</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beyond the realm of shadows,—fine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And far, and clear,—where advent of the night</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Means only glorious nearness of the stars,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And dawn unhindered breaks above the bars</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That long the lower world in twilight keep.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou sleepest not, and hast no need of sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all thy cares and fears have dropped away;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The night's fatigue, the fever-fret of day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are far below thee; and earth's weary wars,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In vain expense of passion, pass</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before thy sight like visions in a glass,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or like the wrinkles of the storm that creep</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Across the sea and leave no trace</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of trouble on that immemorial face,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So brief appear the conflicts, and so slight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wounds men give, the things for which they fight!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here hangs a fortress on the distant steep,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A lichen clinging to the rock.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There sails a fleet upon the deep,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page236" id="page236" title="236"></a> +<span class="i4"> A wandering flock</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of snow-winged gulls. And yonder, in the plain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A marble palace shines,—a grain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of mica glittering in the rain.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beneath thy feet the clouds are rolled</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> By voiceless winds: and far between</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The rolling clouds, new shores and peaks are seen,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In shimmering robes of green and gold,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And faint aerial hue</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That silent fades into the silent blue.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thou, from thy mountain-hold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All day in tranquil wisdom looking down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On distant scenes of human toil and strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All night, with eyes aware of loftier life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Uplifted to the sky where stars are sown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dost watch the everlasting fields grow white</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unto the harvest of the sons of light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And welcome to thy dwelling-place sublime</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The few strong souls that dare to climb</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The slippery crags, and find thee on the height.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>DE PROFUNDIS</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But in the depth thou hast another home,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For hearts less daring, or more frail.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou dwellest also in the shadowy vale;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And pilgrim-souls that roam</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page237" id="page237" title="237"></a> +<span class="i2"> With weary feet o'er hill and dale,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Bearing the burden and the heat</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of toilful days,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Turn from the dusty ways</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To find thee in thy green and still retreat.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Here is no vision wide outspread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before the lonely and exalted seat</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all-embracing knowledge. Here, instead,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A little cottage, and a garden-nook,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> With outlooks brief and sweet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the meadows, and along the brook,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A little stream that nothing knows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the great sea to which it gladly flows,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A little field that bears a little wheat</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make a portion of earth's daily bread.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The vast cloud-armies overhead</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Are marshalled, and the wild wind blows</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Its trumpet, but thou canst not tell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whence comes the wind nor where it goes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor dost thou greatly care, since all is well.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Thy daily task is done,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now the wages of repose are won.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here friendship lights the fire, and every heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sure of itself and sure of all the rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dares to be true, and gladly takes its part</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In open converse, bringing forth its best:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And here is music, melting every chain</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Of lassitude and pain:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page238" id="page238" title="238"></a> +<span class="i0">And here, at last, is sleep with silent gifts,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Kind sleep, the tender nurse who lifts</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The soul grown weary of the waking world,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And lays it, with its thoughts all furled,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Its fears forgotten, and its passions still,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On the deep bosom of the Eternal Will.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page239" id="page239" title="239"></a> +THREE PRAYERS FOR SLEEP AND WAKING</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>BEDTIME</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere thou sleepest gently lay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Every troubled thought away:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Put off worry and distress</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As thou puttest off thy dress:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Drop thy burden and thy care</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the quiet arms of prayer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Lord, Thou knowest how I live,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>All I've done amiss forgive:</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>All of good I've tried to do,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Strengthen, bless, and carry through,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>All I love in safety keep,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>While in Thee I fall asleep.</i></span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page240" id="page240" title="240"></a> +II</h4> + +<h4>NIGHT WATCH</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If slumber should forsake</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy pillow in the dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fret not thyself to mark</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How long thou liest awake.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a better way;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Let go the strife and strain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thine eyes will close again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If thou wilt only pray.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Lord, Thy peaceful gift restore,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Give my body sleep once more:</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>While I wait my soul will rest</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Like a child upon Thy breast.</i></span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page241" id="page241" title="241"></a> +III</h4> + +<h4>NEW DAY</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ere thou risest from thy bed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Speak to God Whose wings were spread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O'er thee in the helpless night:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lo, He wakes thee now with light!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lift thy burden and thy care</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the mighty arms of prayer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Lord, the newness of this day</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Calls me to an untried way:</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Let me gladly take the road,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Give me strength to bear my load,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Thou my guide and helper be—</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>I will travel through with Thee.</i></span></p> + +<p class="note">The Mission Inn, California, Easter, 1913.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page242" id="page242" title="242"></a> +PORTRAIT AND REALITY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If on the closed curtain of my sight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My fancy paints thy portrait far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I see thee still the same, by night or day;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Crossing the crowded street, or moving bright</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Mid festal throngs, or reading by the light</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of shaded lamp some friendly poet's lay,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Or shepherding the children at their play,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The same sweet self, and my unchanged delight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when I see thee near, I recognize</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In every dear familiar way some strange</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Perfection, and behold in April guise</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The magic of thy beauty that doth range</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through many moods with infinite surprise,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Never the same, and sweeter with each change.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page243" id="page243" title="243"></a> +THE WIND OF SORROW</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fire of love was burning, yet so low</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That in the peaceful dark it made no rays,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And in the light of perfect-placid days</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ashes hid the smouldering embers' glow.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Vainly, for love's delight, we sought to throw</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> New pleasures on the pyre to make it blaze:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In life's calm air and tranquil-prosperous ways</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We missed the radiant heat of long ago.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then in the night, a night of sad alarms,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Bitter with pain and black with fog of fears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That drove us trembling to each other's arms,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into life's calm the wind of sorrow came,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fanned the fire of love to clearest name.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page244" id="page244" title="244"></a> +HIDE AND SEEK</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All the fleecy flocks of cloud, gone beyond the hill;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the noon-day silence, down the woods of June,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hark, a little hunter's voice, running with a tune.</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> “Hide and seek!</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> When I speak,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> You must answer me:</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Call again,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Merry men,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now I hear his footsteps rustling in the grass:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Just a low, soft whistle,—quick the hunter turns,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Leaps upon me laughing loud, rolls me in the ferns.</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> “Hold him fast,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Caught at last!</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Now you're it, you see.</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Hide your eye,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Till I cry,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!”</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page245" id="page245" title="245"></a> +II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long ago he left me, long and long ago;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now I wander thro' the world, seeking high and low.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If I could but hear his voice, soon I'd see his face!</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Many a day,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Where can Barney be?</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Answer, dear,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Don't you hear?</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Birds that every spring-time sung him full of joy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Somewhere he is waiting till my steps come nigh;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die.</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Heart, be glad,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> The little lad</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Will call again to thee:</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> “Father dear,</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> Heaven is here,</span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!”</span></p> + +<p class="note">1898.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page246" id="page246" title="246"></a> +AUTUMN IN THE GARDEN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Makes its mark</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Over fallen leaves;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then my olden garden, where the golden soil</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Through the toil</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Whispers in its sleep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Where the box</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> There's a voice that talks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Year by year,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the dreams that brightened all the labouring hours.</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Fading as the flowers.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief;</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> But relief</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> From the Long-Ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When I think of other lives that learned, like mine,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> To resign,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And remember that the sadness of the fall</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Comes alike to all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page247" id="page247" title="247"></a> +<span class="i0">What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs I</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And what prayers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the silent strength that nerves us to endure</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Things we cannot cure!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pacing up and down the garden where they paced,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> I have traced</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Comfort in my mind.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear:</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Yet how near</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Of the human race!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,—</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Not apart!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They who know the sorrows other lives have known</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Never walk alone.</span></p> + +<p class="note">October, 1903.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page248" id="page248" title="248"></a> +THE MESSAGE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Waking from tender sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My neighbour's little child</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Put out his baby hand to me,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Looked in my face, and smiled.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It seems as if he came</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Home from a happy land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To bring a message to my heart</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And make me understand.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Somewhere, among bright dreams,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A child that once was mine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has whispered wordless love to him,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And given him a sign.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Comfort of kindly speech,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And counsel of the wise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have helped me less than what I read</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In those deep-smiling eyes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sleep sweetly, little friend,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And dream again of heaven:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With double love I kiss your hand,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your message has been given.</span></p> + +<p class="note">November, 1903.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page249" id="page249" title="249"></a> +DULCIS MEMORIA</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long, long ago I heard a little song,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So lowly, slowly wound the tune along,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That far into my heart it found the way:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A melody consoling and endearing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now, in silent hours, I'm often hearing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The small, sweet song that does not die away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long, long ago I saw a little flower—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So fair of face and fragrant for an hour,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That something dear to me it seemed to say,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A wordless joy that blossomed into being;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now, in winter days, I'm often seeing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The friendly flower that does not fade away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long, long ago we had a little child,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our little child who does not go away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page250" id="page250" title="250"></a> +<span class="i0">Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> (It was not long ago, but yesterday.)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So little and so helpless and so dear—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Let not the song be lost, the flower decay!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The smallest things are safest in thy keeping,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sweet memory, keep our child with us alway.</span></p> + +<p class="note">November, 1903.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page251" id="page251" title="251"></a> +THE WINDOW</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All night long, by a distant bell</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The passing hours were notched</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the spark of life I watched</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In her face was glowing, or fading,—who could tell?—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the open window of the room,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With a flare of yellow light,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Was peering out into the gloom,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Like an eye that searched the night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">Oh, what do you see in the dark, little window, and why do you peer?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I see that the garden is crowded with creeping forms of fear:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Little white ghosts in the locust-tree, wave in the night-wind's breath,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And low in the leafy laurels the lurking shadow of death.”</span></i></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet, clear notes of a waking bird</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Told of the passing away</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the dark,—and my darling may have heard;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For she smiled in her sleep, while the ray</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the rising dawn spoke joy without a word,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Till the splendour born in the east outburned</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The yellow lamplight, pale and thin,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the open window slowly turned</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To the eye of the morning, looking in.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page252" id="page252" title="252"></a> +<i><span class="i0">Oh, what do you see in the room, little window, that makes you so bright?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I see that a child is asleep on her pillow, soft and white:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With the rose of life on her lips, the pulse of life in her breast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the arms of God around her, she quietly takes her rest.”</span></i></p> + +<p class="note">Neuilly, June, 1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page253" id="page253" title="253"></a> +CHRISTMAS TEARS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The day returns by which we date our years:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Day of the joy of giving,—that means love;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Day of the joy of living,—that means hope;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Day of the Royal Child,—and day that brings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To older hearts the gift of Christmas tears!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look, how the candles twinkle through the tree,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The children shout when baby claps his hands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The room is full of laughter and of song!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your lips are smiling, dearest,—tell me why</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your eyes are brimming full of Christmas tears?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was it a silent voice that joined the song?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A vanished face that glimmered once again</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the happy circle round the tree?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was it an unseen hand that touched your cheek</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And brought the secret gift of Christmas tears?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not dark and angry like the winter storm</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of selfish grief,—but full of starry gleams,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And soft and still that others may not weep,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dews of remembered happiness descend</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To bless us with the gift of Christmas tears.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page254" id="page254" title="254"></a> +<span class="i0">Ah, lose them not, dear heart,—life has no pearls</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More pure than memories of joy love-shared.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">See, while we count them one by one with prayer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Heavenly hope that lights the Christmas tree</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has made a rainbow in our Christmas tears!</span></p> + +<p class="note">1912.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page255" id="page255" title="255"></a> +DOROTHEA</h3> + +<h4>1888-1912</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A deeper crimson in the rose,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A deeper blue in sky and sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And ever, as the summer goes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A deeper loss in losing thee!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A deeper music in the strain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of hermit-thrush from lonely tree;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And deeper grows the sense of gain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My life has found in having thee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A deeper love, a deeper rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A deeper joy in all I see;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And ever deeper in my breast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A silver song that comes from thee!</span></p> + +<p class="note">Seal Harbour, August 1, 1912.</p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page256" id="page256" title="256"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page257" id="page257" title="257"></a> +EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND +INSCRIPTIONS</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page258" id="page258" title="258"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page259" id="page259" title="259"></a> +FOR KATRINA'S SUN-DIAL</h3> + +<h4>IN HER GARDEN OF YADDO</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i5"> Hours fly,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Flowers die</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> New days,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> New ways,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Pass by.</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Love stays.</span></p> +<hr class="dotted" /> +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i5"> Time is</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too Slow for those who Wait,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too Swift for those who Fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too Long for those who Grieve,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too Short for those who Rejoice;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But for those who Love,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Time is not.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page260" id="page260" title="260"></a> +FOR KATRINA'S WINDOW</h3> + +<h4>IN HER TOWER OF YADDO</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the window's message,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In silence, to the Queen:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Thou hast a double kingdom</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And I am set between:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look out and see the glory,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> On hill and plain and sky:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look in and see the light of love</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That nevermore shall die!”</span></p> + +<h4><i>L'ENVOI</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">Window in the Queen's high tower,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This shall be thy magic power!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shut the darkness and the doubt,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shut the storm and conflict, out;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wind and hail and snow and rain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dash against thee all in vain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let in nothing from the night,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let in every ray of light!</span></i></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page261" id="page261" title="261"></a> +FOR THE FRIENDS AT HURSTMONT</h3> + +<h4>THE HOUSE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cornerstone in Truth is laid,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The guardian walls of Honour made,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The roof of Faith is built above,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fire upon the hearth is Love:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Though rains descend and loud winds call,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This happy house shall never fall.</span></p> + +<h4>THE HEARTH</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When the logs are burning free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then the fire is full of glee:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When each heart gives out its best,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then the talk is full of zest:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Light your fire and never fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Life was made for love and cheer.</span></p> + +<h4>THE DOOR</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lintel low enough to keep out pomp and pride:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The threshold high enough to turn deceit aside:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fastening strong enough from robbers to defend:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This door will open at a touch to welcome every friend.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page262" id="page262" title="262"></a> +THE DIAL</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Time can never take</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> What Time did not give;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When my shadows have all passed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You shall live.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page263" id="page263" title="263"></a> +THE SUN-DIAL AT MORVEN</h3> + +<h4>FOR BAYARD AND HELEN STOCKTON</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Two hundred years of blessing I record</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For Morven's house, protected by the Lord:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And still I stand among old-fashioned flowers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To mark for Morven many sunlit hours.</span></p> + +<h3>THE SUN-DIAL AT WELLS COLLEGE</h3> + +<h4>FOR THE CLASS OF 1904</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The shadow by my finger cast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Divides the future from the past:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before it, sleeps the unborn hour,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In darkness, and beyond thy power:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behind its unreturning line,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The vanished hour, no longer thine:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One hour alone is in thy hands,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The NOW on which the shadow stands.</span></p> + +<p class="note">March, 1904.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page264" id="page264" title="264"></a> +TO MARK TWAIN</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>AT A BIRTHDAY FEAST</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With memories old and wishes new</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We crown our cups again,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And here's to you, and here's to you</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With love that ne'er shall wane!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And may you keep, at sixty-seven,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The joy of earth, the hope of heaven,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fame well-earned, and friendship true,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And peace that comforts every pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And faith that fights the battle through,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all your heart's unbounded wealth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all your wit, and all your health,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yes, here's a hearty health to you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And here's to you, and here's to you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Long life to you, Mark Twain.</span></p> + +<p class="note">November 30, 1902.</p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>AT THE MEMORIAL MEETING</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We knew you well, dear Yorick of the West,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The very soul of large and friendly jest!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You loved and mocked the broad grotesque of things</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this new world where all the folk are kings.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page265" id="page265" title="265"></a> +<span class="i0">Your breezy humour cleared the air, with sport</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of shams that haunt the democratic court;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For even where the sovereign people rule,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A human monarch needs a royal fool.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your native drawl lent flavour to your wit;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your arrows lingered but they always hit;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Homeric mirth around the circle ran,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But left no wound upon the heart of man.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We knew you kind in trouble, brave in pain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We saw your honour kept without a stain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We read this lesson of our Yorick's years,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">True wisdom comes with laughter and with tears.</span></p> + +<p class="note">November 30, 1910.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page266" id="page266" title="266"></a> +STARS AND THE SOUL</h3> + +<h4>(TO CHARLES A. YOUNG, ASTRONOMER)</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Two things,” the wise man said, “fill me with awe:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The starry heavens and the moral law.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nay, add another wonder to thy roll,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The living marvel of the human soul!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Born in the dust and cradled in the dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It feels the fire of an immortal spark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And learns to read, with patient, searching eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The splendid secret of the unconscious skies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For God thought Light before He spoke the word;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The darkness understood not, though it heard:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But man looks up to where the planets swim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thinks God's thoughts of glory after Him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What knows the star that guides the sailor's way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or lights the lover's bower with liquid ray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of toil and passion, danger and distress,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brave hope, true love, and utter faithfulness?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But human hearts that suffer good and ill,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And hold to virtue with a loyal will,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Adorn the law that rules our mortal strife</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With star-surpassing victories of life.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page267" id="page267" title="267"></a> +<span class="i0">So take our thanks, dear reader of the skies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Devout astronomer, most humbly wise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For lessons brighter than the stars can give,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And inward light that helps us all to live.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page268" id="page268" title="268"></a> +TO JULIA MARLOWE</h3> + +<h4>(READING KEATS' ODE ON A GRECIAN URN)</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long had I loved this “Attic shape,” the brede</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of marble maidens round this urn divine:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when your golden voice began to read,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The empty urn was filled with Chian wine.</span></p> + +<h3>TO JOSEPH JEFFERSON</h3> + +<p class="note"> +<i>May 4th, 1898.—To-day, fishing down the Swiftwater, I found Joseph +Jefferson on a big rock in the middle of the brook, casting the fly for trout. +He said he had fished this very stream three-and-forty years ago; and +near by, in the Paradise Valley, he wrote his famous play.</i>—Leaf from my +Diary.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We met on Nature's stage,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And May had set the scene,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With bishop-caps standing in delicate ranks,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And violets blossoming over the banks,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> While the brook ran full between.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The waters rang your call,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With frolicsome waves a-twinkle,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They knew you as boy, and they knew you as man,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every wave, as it merrily ran,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Cried, “Enter Rip van Winkle!”</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page269" id="page269" title="269"></a> +THE MOCKING-BIRD</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Catching the lilt of every easy tune;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when the day departs he sings of love,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His own wild song beneath the listening moon.</span></p> + +<h3>THE EMPTY QUATRAIN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A flawless cup: how delicate and fine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The flowing curve of every jewelled line!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page270" id="page270" title="270"></a> +PAN LEARNS MUSIC</h3> + +<h4>FOR A SCULPTURE BY SARA GREENE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What are you making here? “Listen,” said Pan,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Out of a river-reed music for man!”</span></p> + +<h3>THE SHEPHERD OF NYMPHS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> The nymphs a shepherd took</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To guard their snowy sheep;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He led them down along the brook,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And guided them with pipe and crook,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Until he fell asleep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> But when the piping stayed,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Across the flowery mead</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The milk-white nymphs ran out afraid:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O Thyrsis, wake! Your flock has strayed,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The nymphs a shepherd need.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page271" id="page271" title="271"></a> +ECHOES FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>STARLIGHT</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With two bright eyes, my star, my love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou lookest on the stars above:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, would that I the heaven might be</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With a million eyes to look on thee.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Plato.</i></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>ROSELEAF</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A little while the rose,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And after that the thorn;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An hour of dewy morn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then the glamour goes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, love in beauty born,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A little while the rose!</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Unknown.</i></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page272" id="page272" title="272"></a> +III</h4> + +<h4>PHOSPHOR—HESPER</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> O morning star, farewell!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My love I now must leave;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hours of day I slowly tell,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And turn to her with the twilight bell,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> O welcome, star of eve!</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Meleager.</i></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<h4>SEASONS</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sweet in summer, cups of snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Cooling thirsty lips aglow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet to sailors winter-bound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spring arrives with garlands crowned;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweeter yet the hour that covers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With one cloak a pair of lovers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Living lost in golden weather,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While they talk of love together.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Asclepiades.</i></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page273" id="page273" title="273"></a> +V</h4> + +<h4>THE VINE AND THE GOAT</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Although you eat me to the root,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I yet shall bear enough of fruit</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For wine to sprinkle your dim eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When you are made a sacrifice.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Euenus.</i></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<h4>THE PROFESSOR</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seven pupils, in the class</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Professor Callias,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Listen silent while he drawls,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Three are benches, four are walls.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>Unknown.</i></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page274" id="page274" title="274"></a> +ONE WORLD</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> <i>“The worlds in which we live are two:</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>The world ‘I am’ and the world ‘I do,’”</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The worlds in which we live at heart are one,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The world “I am,” the fruit of “I have done”;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The world “I love,”—the only living root.</span></p> + +<h3>JOY AND DUTY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Joy is a Duty,”—so with golden lore</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Hebrew rabbis taught in days of yore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And happy human hearts heard in their speech</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Almost the highest wisdom man can reach.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But one bright peak still rises far above,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And there the Master stands whose name is Love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Saying to those whom weary tasks employ:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Life is divine when Duty is a Joy.”</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page275" id="page275" title="275"></a> +THE PRISON AND THE ANGEL</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Love is the only angel who can bid the gates unroll;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when he comes to call thee, arise and follow fast;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His way may lie through darkness, but it leads to light at last.</span></p> + +<h3>THE WAY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">May keep the path, but will not reach the goal;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While he who walks in love may wander far,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But God will bring him where the Blessed are.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page276" id="page276" title="276"></a> +LOVE AND LIGHT</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every kind of love makes a glory in the night.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is love that stirs the heart, and love that gives it rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best.</span></p> + +<h3><i>FACTA NON VERBA</i></h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Deeds not Words</i>: I say so too!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet I find it somehow true,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A word may help a man in need,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To nobler act and braver deed.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page277" id="page277" title="277"></a> +FOUR THINGS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Four things a man must learn to do</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If he would make his record true:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To think without confusion clearly;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To love his fellow-men sincerely;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To act from honest motives purely;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To trust in God and Heaven securely.</span></p> + +<h3>THE GREAT RIVER</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> “<i>In la sua volontade è nostra pace.</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O mighty river! strong, eternal Will,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wherein the streams of human good and ill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The world is safe because it floats in Thee.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page278" id="page278" title="278"></a> +INSCRIPTION FOR A TOMB IN ENGLAND</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Read here, O friend unknown,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our grief, of her bereft;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet think not tears alone</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Within our hearts are left.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gifts she came to give,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her heavenly love and cheer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have made us glad to live</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And die without a fear.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1912.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page279" id="page279" title="279"></a> +THE TALISMAN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is Fortune, what is Fame?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Futile gold and phantom name,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Riches buried in a cave,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Glory written on a grave.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is Friendship? Something deep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That the heart can spend and keep:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wealth that greatens while we give,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Praise that heartens us to live.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, my friend, and let us prove</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Life's true talisman is love!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By this charm we shall elude</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Poverty and solitude.</span></p> + +<p class="note">January 21, 1914.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page280" id="page280" title="280"></a> +THORN AND ROSE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far richer than a thornless rose</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose branch with beauty never glows,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is that which every June adorns</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With perfect bloom among its thorns.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Merely to live without a pain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is little gladness, little gain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, welcome joy tho' mixt with grief,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The thorn-set flower that crowns the leaf.</span></p> + +<p class="note">June 20, 1914.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page281" id="page281" title="281"></a> +“THE SIGNS”</h3> + +<h4><i>Dedicated to the Zodiac Club</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who knows how many thousand years ago</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The twelvefold Zodiac was made to show</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The course of stars above and men below?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The great sun plows his furrow by its “lines”:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all its “houses” mystic meaning shines:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Deep lore of life is written in its “signs.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Aries</i>—Sacrifice.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Snow-white and sacred is the sacrifice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That Heaven demands for what our heart doth prize:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The man who fears to suffer, ne'er can rise.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Taurus</i>—Strength.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rejoice, my friend, if God has made you strong:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Put forth your force to move the world along:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet never shame your strength to do a wrong.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Gemini</i>—Brotherhood.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bitter his life who lives for self alone,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Poor would he be with riches and a throne:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But friendship doubles all we are and own.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page282" id="page282" title="282"></a> +<span class="i4"> <i>Cancer</i>—The Wisdom of Retreat.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Learn from the crab, O runner fresh and fleet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sideways to move, or backward, when discreet;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Life is not all advance,—sometimes retreat!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Leo</i>—Fire.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sign of Leo is the sign of fire.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hatred we hate: but no man should desire</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A heart too cold to flame with righteous ire.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Virgo</i>—Love.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mysterious symbol, words are all in vain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To tell the secret power by which you reign.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The more we love, the less we can explain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Libra</i>—Justice.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Examine well the scales with which you weigh;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let justice rule your conduct every day;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For when you face the Judge you'll need fair play.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Scorpio</i>—Self-Defense.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's not a creature in the realm of night</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But has the wish to live, likewise the right:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Don't tread upon the scorpion, or he'll fight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Sagittarius</i>—The Archer.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Life is an arrow, therefore you must know</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What mark to aim at, how to use the bow,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then draw it to the head and let it go!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page283" id="page283" title="283"></a> +<span class="i4"> <i>Capricornus</i>—The Goat.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The goat looks solemn, yet he likes to run,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And leap the rocks, and gambol in the sun:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The truly wise enjoy a little fun.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Aquarius</i>—Water.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Like water spilt upon the ground,”—alas,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> <i>Pisces</i>—The Fishes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Last of the sacred signs, you bring to me</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A word of hope, a word of mystery,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>We all are swimmers in God's mighty sea.</i></span></p> + +<p class="note">February 28, 1918.</p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page284" id="page284" title="284"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page285" id="page285" title="285"></a> +PRO PATRIA</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page286" id="page286" title="286"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page287" id="page287" title="287"></a> +PATRIA</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would not even ask my heart to say</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> If I could love another land as well</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As thee, my country, had I felt the spell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Italy at birth, or learned to obey</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The charm of France, or England's mighty sway.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I would not be so much an infidel</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As once to dream, or fashion words to tell,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What land could hold my heart from thee away.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For like a law of nature in my blood,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> America, I feel thy sovereignty,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And woven through my soul thy vital sign.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My life is but a wave and thou the flood;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I am a leaf and thou the mother-tree;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Nor should I be at all, were I not thine.</span></p> + +<p class="note">June, 1904.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page288" id="page288" title="288"></a> +AMERICA</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love thine inland seas,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy groves of giant trees,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy rolling plains;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy rivers' mighty sweep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy mystic canyons deep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy mountains wild and steep,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All thy domains;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy silver Eastern strands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy Golden Gate that stands</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Wide to the West;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy flowery Southland fair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy sweet and crystal air,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O land beyond compare,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thee I love best!</span></p> + +<p class="note">March, 1906.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page289" id="page289" title="289"></a> +THE ANCESTRAL DWELLINGS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dearer than if they were haunted by ghosts of royal splendour;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They are simple enough to be great in their friendly dignity,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Homes that were built by the brave beginners of a nation.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the old white farmhouses nestled in New England valleys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ample and long and low, with elm-trees feathering over them:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Borders of box in the yard, and lilacs, and old-fashioned roses,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A fan-light above the door, and little square panes in the windows,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wood-shed piled with maple and birch and hickory ready for winter,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gambrel-roof with its garret crowded with household relics,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All the tokens of prudent thrift and the spirit of self-reliance.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the weather-beaten, shingled houses that front the ocean;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They seem to grow out of the rocks, there is something indomitable about them:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page290" id="page290" title="290"></a> +<span class="i0">Their backs are bowed, and their sides are covered with lichens;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Soft in their colour as gray pearls, they are full of a patient courage.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Facing the briny wind on a lonely shore they stand undaunted,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the thin blue pennant of smoke from the square-built chimney</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tells of a haven for man, with room for a hearth and a cradle.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the stately southern mansions with their tall white columns,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They look through avenues of trees, over fields where the cotton is growing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I can see the flutter of white frocks along their shady porches,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Music and laughter float from the windows, the yards are full of hounds and horses.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Long since the riders have ridden away, yet the houses have not forgotten,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They are proud of their name and place, and their doors are always open,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the thing they remember best is the pride of their ancient hospitality.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page291" id="page291" title="291"></a> +<span class="i0">In the towns I love the discreet and tranquil Quaker dwellings,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With their demure brick faces and immaculate marble doorsteps;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the gabled houses of the Dutch, with their high stoops and iron railings,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(I can see their little brass knobs shining in the morning sunlight);</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the solid self-contained houses of the descendants of the Puritans,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Frowning on the street with their narrow doors and dormer-windows;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the triple-galleried, many-pillared mansions of Charleston,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Standing open sideways in their gardens of roses and magnolias.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, they are all dear to my heart, and in my eyes they are beautiful;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For under their roofs were nourished the thoughts that have made the nation;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The glory and strength of America come from her ancestral dwellings.</span></p> + +<p class="note">July, 1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page292" id="page292" title="292"></a> +HUDSON'S LAST VOYAGE</h3> + +<h4>THE SHALLOP ON HUDSON BAY</h4> + +<h4>June 22, 1611</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One sail in sight upon the lonely sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And only one! For never ship but mine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has dared these waters. We were first,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My men, to battle in between the bergs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And floes to these wide waves. This gulf is mine;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I name it! and that flying sail is mine!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And there, hull-down below that flying sail,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ship that staggers home is mine, mine, mine!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My ship <i>Discoverie</i>!</span><br /> +<span class="i11"> The sullen dogs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of mutineers, the bitches' whelps that snatched</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their food and bit the hand that nourished them,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have stolen her. You ingrate Henry Greene,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I picked you from the gutter of Houndsditch,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And paid your debts, and kept you in my house,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And brought you here to make a man of you!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You Robert Juet, ancient, crafty man,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Toothless and tremulous, how many times</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have I employed you as a master's mate</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To give you bread? And you Abacuck Prickett,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You sailor-clerk, you salted puritan,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You knew the plot and silently agreed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Salving your conscience with a pious lie!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page293" id="page293" title="293"></a> +<span class="i0">Yes, all of you—hounds, rebels, thieves! Bring back</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My ship!</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Too late,—I rave,—they cannot hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My voice: and if they heard, a drunken laugh</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Would be their answer; for their minds have caught</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fatal firmness of the fool's resolve,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That looks like courage but is only fear.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They'll blunder on, and lose my ship, and drown;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or blunder home to England and be hanged.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their skeletons will rattle in the chains</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of some tall gibbet on the Channel cliffs,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While passing mariners look up and say:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Those are the rotten bones of Hudson's men</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who left their captain in the frozen North!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O God of justice, why hast Thou ordained</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Plans of the wise and actions of the brave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dependent on the aid of fools and cowards?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look,—there she goes,—her topsails in the sun</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gleam from the ragged ocean edge, and drop</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Clean out of sight! So let the traitors go</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Clean out of mind! We'll think of braver things!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come closer in the boat, my friends. John King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You take the tiller, keep her head nor'west.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You Philip Staffe, the only one who chose</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Freely to share our little shallop's fate,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rather than travel in the hell-bound ship,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page294" id="page294" title="294"></a> +<span class="i0">Too good an English sailor to desert</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your crippled comrades,—try to make them rest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More easy on the thwarts. And John, my son,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My little shipmate, come and lean your head</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against my knee. Do you remember still</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The April morn in Ethelburga's church,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Five years ago, when side by side we kneeled</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To take the sacrament with all our men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before the <i>Hopewell</i> left St. Catherine's docks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On our first voyage? It was then I vowed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My sailor-soul and yours to search the sea</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until we found the water-path that leads</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From Europe into Asia.</span><br /> +<span class="i12"> I believe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That God has poured the ocean round His world,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not to divide, but to unite the lands.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the English captains that have dared</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In little ships to plough uncharted waves,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Davis and Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Raleigh and Gilbert,—all the other names,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are written in the chivalry of God</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As men who served His purpose. I would claim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A place among that knighthood of the sea;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I have earned it, though my quest should fail!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For, mark me well, the honour of our life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Derives from this: to have a certain aim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before us always, which our will must seek</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the peril of uncertain ways.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page295" id="page295" title="295"></a> +<span class="i0">Then, though we miss the goal, our search is crowned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With courage, and we find along our path</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A rich reward of unexpected things.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Press towards the aim: take fortune as it fares!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know not why, but something in my heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has always whispered, “Westward seek your goal!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Three times they sent me east, but still I turned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The bowsprit west, and felt among the floes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of ruttling ice along the Greenland coast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And down the rugged shore of Newfoundland,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And past the rocky capes and wooded bays</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where Gosnold sailed,—like one who feels his way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With outstretched hand across a darkened room,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I groped among the inlets and the isles,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To find the passage to the Land of Spice.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I have not found it yet,—but I have found</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Things worth the finding!</span><br /> +<span class="i13"> Son, have you forgot</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Those mellow autumn days, two years ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When first we sent our little ship <i>Half-Moon</i>,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The flag of Holland floating at her peak,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across a sandy bar, and sounded in</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the channels, to a goodly bay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where all the navies of the world could ride?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A fertile island that the redmen called</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Manhattan, lay above the bay: the land</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Around was bountiful and friendly fair.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page296" id="page296" title="296"></a> +<span class="i0">But never land was fair enough to hold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The seaman from the calling of the sea.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And so we bore to westward of the isle,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along a mighty inlet, where the tide</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was troubled by a downward-flowing flood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That seemed to come from far away,—perhaps</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From some mysterious gulf of Tartary?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Inland we held our course; by palisades</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of naked rock; by rolling hills adorned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With forests rich in timber for great ships;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through narrows where the mountains shut us in</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With frowning cliffs that seemed to bar the stream;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then through open reaches where the banks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sloped to the water gently, with their fields</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of corn and lentils smiling in the sun.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ten days we voyaged through that placid land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until we came to shoals, and sent a boat</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upstream to find,—what I already knew,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We travelled on a river, not a strait.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But what a river! God has never poured</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A stream more royal through a land more rich.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even now I see it flowing in my dream,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While coming ages people it with men</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of manhood equal to the river's pride.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I see the wigwams of the redmen changed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To ample houses, and the tiny plots</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of maize and green tobacco broadened out</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page297" id="page297" title="297"></a> +<span class="i0">To prosperous farms, that spread o'er hill and dale</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The many-coloured mantle of their crops.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I see the terraced vineyard on the slope</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where now the fox-grape loops its tangled vine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cattle feeding where the red deer roam,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And wild-bees gathered into busy hives</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To store the silver comb with golden sweet;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the promised land begins to flow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With milk and honey. Stately manors rise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the banks, and castles top the hills,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And little villages grow populous with trade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until the river runs as proudly as the Rhine,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The thread that links a hundred towns and towers!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now looking deeper in my dream, I see</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A mighty city covering the isle</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They call Manhattan, equal in her state</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To all the older capitals of earth,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gateway city of a golden world,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A city girt with masts, and crowned with spires,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And swarming with a million busy men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While to her open door across the bay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ships of all the nations flock like doves.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My name will be remembered there, the world</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will say, “This river and this isle were found</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By Henry Hudson, on his way to seek</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Northwest Passage.”</span><br /> +<span class="i12"> Yes, I seek it still,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My great adventure and my guiding star!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page298" id="page298" title="298"></a> +<span class="i0">For look ye, friends, our voyage is not done;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We hold by hope as long as life endures!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Somewhere among these floating fields of ice,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Somewhere along this westward widening bay,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Somewhere beneath this luminous northern night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The channel opens to the Farthest East,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I know it,—and some day a little ship</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will push her bowsprit in, and battle through!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And why not ours,—to-morrow,—who can tell?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lucky chance awaits the fearless heart!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These are the longest days of all the year;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The world is round and God is everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And while our shallop floats we still can steer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So point her up, John King, nor'west by north</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll keep the honour of a certain aim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the peril of uncertain ways,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sail ahead, and leave the rest to God.</span></p> + +<p class="note">July, 1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page299" id="page299" title="299"></a> +SEA-GULLS OF MANHATTAN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Children of the elemental mother,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Born upon some lonely island shore</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the wrinkled ripples run and whisper,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where the crested billows plunge and roar;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Long-winged, tireless roamers and adventurers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fearless breasters of the wind and sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the far-off solitary places</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I have seen you floating wild and free!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here the high-built cities rise around you;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Here the cliffs that tower east and west,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Honeycombed with human habitations,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Have no hiding for the sea-bird's nest:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here the river flows begrimed and troubled;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Here the hurrying, panting vessels fume,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Restless, up and down the watery highway,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While a thousand chimneys vomit gloom.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Toil and tumult, conflict and confusion,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Clank and clamour of the vast machine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Human hands have built for human bondage—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Yet amid it all you float serene;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Circling, soaring, sailing, swooping lightly</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Down to glean your harvest from the wave;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In your heritage of air and water,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You have kept the freedom Nature gave.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page300" id="page300" title="300"></a> +<span class="i0">Even so the wild-woods of Manhattan</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Saw your wheeling flocks of white and gray;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even so you fluttered, followed, floated,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Round the <i>Half-Moon</i> creeping up the bay;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even so your voices creaked and chattered.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Laughing shrilly o'er the tidal rips,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While your black and beady eyes were glistening</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Round the sullen British prison-ships.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Children of the elemental mother,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fearless floaters 'mid the double blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the crowded boats that cross the ferries</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Many a longing heart goes out to you.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Though the cities climb and close around us,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Something tells us that our souls are free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the sea-gulls fly above the harbour,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While the river flows to meet the sea!</span></p> + +<p class="note">December, 1905.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page301" id="page301" title="301"></a> +A BALLAD OF CLAREMONT HILL</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> The roar of the city is low,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Muffled by new-fallen snow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the sign of the wintry moon is small and round and still.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Will you come with me to-night,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> To see a pleasant sight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Away on the river-side, at the edge of Claremont Hill?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> “And what shall we see there,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> But streets that are new and bare,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many a desolate place that the city is coming to fill;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And a soldier's tomb of stone,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And a few trees standing alone—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will you walk for that through the cold, to the edge of Claremont Hill?”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> But there's more than that for me,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In the place that I fain would see:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's a glimpse of the grace that helps us all to bear life's ill,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> A touch of the vital breath</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> That keeps the world from death,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A flower that never fades, on the edge of Claremont Hill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> For just where the road swings round,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In a narrow strip of ground,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page302" id="page302" title="302"></a> +<span class="i0">Where a group of forest trees are lingering fondly still,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> There's a grave of the olden time,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> When the garden bloomed in its prime,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the children laughed and sang on the edge of Claremont Hill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> The marble is pure and white,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And even in this dim light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You may read the simple words that are written there if you will;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> You may hear a father tell</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of the child he loved so well,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred years ago, on the edge of Claremont Hill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> The tide of the city has rolled</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Across that bower of old,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And blotted out the beds of the rose and the daffodil;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> But the little playmate sleeps,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And the shrine of love still keeps</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A record of happy days, on the edge of Claremont Hill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> The river is pouring down</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> To the crowded, careless town,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the intricate wheels of trade are grinding on like a mill;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> But the clamorous noise and strife</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of the hurrying waves of life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flow soft by this haven of peace on the edge of Claremont Hill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page303" id="page303" title="303"></a> +<span class="i4"> And after all, my friend,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> When the tale of our years shall end,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Be it long or short, or lowly or great, as God may will,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> What better praise could we hear,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Than this of the child so dear:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You have made my life more sweet, on the edge of Claremont Hill?</span></p> + +<p class="note">December, 1896.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page304" id="page304" title="304"></a> +URBS CORONATA</h3> + +<h4>(Song for the City College of New York)</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O youngest of the giant brood</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of cities far-renowned;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In wealth and glory thou hast passed</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy rivals at a bound;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou art a mighty queen, New York;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And how wilt thou be crowned?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Weave me no palace-wreath of Pride,”</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The royal city said;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Nor forge of frowning fortress-walls</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A helmet for my head;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But let me wear a diadem</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of Wisdom's towers instead.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She bowed herself, she spent herself,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> She wrought her will forsooth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And set upon her island height</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A citadel of Truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A house of Light, a home of Thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A shrine of noble Youth.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page305" id="page305" title="305"></a> +<span class="i0">Stand here, ye City College towers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And look both up and down;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Remember all who wrought for you</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Within the toiling town;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Remember all their hopes for you,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And <i>be</i> the City's Crown.</span></p> + +<p class="note">June, 1908.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page306" id="page306" title="306"></a> +MERCY FOR ARMENIA</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>THE TURK'S WAY</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Far off, for I will save my troubled folk</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In my own way. So the false Sultan spoke;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And Europe, hearkening to his base command,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Stood still to see him heal his wounded land.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through blinding snows of winter and through smoke</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of burning towns, she saw him deal the stroke</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of cruel mercy that his hate had planned.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unto the prisoners and the sick he gave</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> New tortures, horrible, without a name;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Unto the thirsty, blood to drink; a sword</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Unto the hungry; with a robe of shame</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> He clad the naked, making life abhorred;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He saved by slaughter, and denied a grave.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>AMERICA'S WAY</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou, my country, though no fault be thine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For that red horror far across the sea;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Though not a tortured wretch can point to thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And curse thee for the selfishness supine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of those great Powers that cowardly combine</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page307" id="page307" title="307"></a> +<span class="i1"> To shield the Turk in his iniquity;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Yet, since thy hand is innocent and free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Arise, and show the world the way divine!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou canst not break the oppressor's iron rod,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But thou canst help and comfort the oppressed;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thou canst not loose the captive's heavy chain,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But thou canst bind his wounds and soothe his pain.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Armenia calls thee, Sovereign of the West,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To play the Good Samaritan for God.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1896.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page308" id="page308" title="308"></a> +SICILY, DECEMBER, 1908</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whose bluest billows kiss thy curving bays,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whose light infolds thy hills with golden rays,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Filling with fruit each dark-leaved orange-tree,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What hidden hatred hath the Earth for thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That once again, in these dark, dreadful days,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Breaks forth in trembling rage, and swiftly lays</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy beauty waste in wreck and agony!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is Nature, then, a strife of jealous powers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And man the plaything of unconscious fate?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Not so, my troubled heart! God reigns above,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And man is greatest in his darkest hours.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Walking amid the cities desolate,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Behold the Son of God in human love!</span></p> + +<p class="note">Tertius and Henry van Dyke.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page309" id="page309" title="309"></a> +“COME BACK AGAIN, JEANNE D'ARC”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The land was broken in despair,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The princes quarrelled in the dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When clear and tranquil, through the troubled air</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of selfish minds and wills that did not dare,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Your star arose, Jeanne d'Arc.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O virgin breast with lilies white,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> O sun-burned hand that bore the lance,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You taught the prayer that helps men to unite,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You brought the courage equal to the fight,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> You gave a heart to France!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your king was crowned, your country free,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> At Rheims you had your soul's desire:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then, at Rouen, maid of Domrémy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The black-robed judges gave your victory</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The martyr's crown of fire.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now again the times are ill,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And doubtful leaders miss the mark;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The people lack the single faith and will</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make them one,—your country needs you still,—</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Come back again, Jeanne d'Arc!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page310" id="page310" title="310"></a> +<span class="i0">O woman-star, arise once more</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And shine to bid your land advance:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The old heroic trust in God restore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Renew the brave, unselfish hopes of yore,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And give a heart to France!</span></p> + +<p class="note">Paris, July, 1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page311" id="page311" title="311"></a> +NATIONAL MONUMENTS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Count not the cost of honour to the dead!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The tribute that a mighty nation pays</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To those who loved her well in former days</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Means more than gratitude for glories fled;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For every noble man that she hath bred,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lives in the bronze and marble that we raise,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Immortalised by art's immortal praise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To lead our sons as he our fathers led.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These monuments of manhood strong and high</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Do more than forts or battle-ships to keep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our dear-bought liberty. They fortify</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The heart of youth with valour wise and deep;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They build eternal bulwarks, and command</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Immortal hosts to guard our native land.</span></p> + +<p class="note">February, 1905.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page312" id="page312" title="312"></a> +THE MONUMENT OF FRANCIS MAKEMIE</h3> + +<h4>(Presbyter of Christ in America, 1683-1708)</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To thee, plain hero of a rugged race,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> We bring the meed of praise too long delayed!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy fearless word and faithful work have made</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For God's Republic firmer resting-place</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this New World: for thou hast preached the grace</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And power of Christ in many a forest glade,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Teaching the truth that leaves men unafraid</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of frowning tyranny or death's dark face.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, who can tell how much we owe to thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Makemie, and to labour such as thine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For all that makes America the shrine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of faith untrammelled and of conscience free?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Stand here, gray stone, and consecrate the sod</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where rests this brave Scotch-Irish man of God!</span></p> + +<p class="note">April, 1908.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page313" id="page313" title="313"></a> +THE STATUE OF SHERMAN BY ST. GAUDENS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the soldier brave enough to tell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The glory-dazzled world that ‘war is hell’:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lover of peace, he looks beyond the strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And rides through hell to save his country's life.</span></p> + +<p class="note">April, 1904.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page314" id="page314" title="314"></a> +“AMERICA FOR ME”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the famous palaces and cities of renown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> <i>So it's home again, and home again, America for me!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when it comes to living there is no place like home.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page315" id="page315" title="315"></a> +<span class="i0">I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We love our land for what she is and what she is to be.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> <i>Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>To the blesséd Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.</i></span></p> + +<p class="note">June, 1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page316" id="page316" title="316"></a> +THE BUILDERS</h3> + +<h4>ODE FOR THE HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF +PRINCETON COLLEGE</h4> + +<h4>October 21, 1896</h4> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Into the dust of the making of man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spirit was breathed when his life began,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lifting him up from his low estate,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With masterful passion, the wish to create.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of the dust of his making, man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fashioned his works as the ages ran;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fortress, and palace, and temple, and tower,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Filling the world with the proof of his power.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the dust that awaits him, man,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Building the walls that his pride doth plan,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dreams they will stand in the light of the sun</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bearing his name till Time is done.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> The monuments of mortals</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Are as the glory of the grass;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through Time's dim portals</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A voiceless, viewless wind doth pass,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The blossoms fall before it in a day,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page317" id="page317" title="317"></a> +<span class="i1"> The forest monarchs year by year decay,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And man's great buildings slowly fade away.</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> One after one,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> They pay to that dumb breath</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The tribute of their death,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And are undone.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The towers incline to dust,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The massive girders rust,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The domes dissolve in air,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The pillars that upbear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The lofty arches crumble, stone by stone,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While man the builder looks about him in despair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all his works of pride and power are overthrown.</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Voice came from the sky:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Set thy desires more high.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy buildings fade away</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Because thou buildest clay.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now make the fabric sure</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With stones that will endure!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hewn from the spiritual rock,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The immortal towers of the soul</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At Death's dissolving touch shall mock,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And stand secure while æons roll.”</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page318" id="page318" title="318"></a> +IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Well did the wise in heart rejoice</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> To hear the summons of that Voice,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And patiently begin</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> The builder's work within,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Houses not made with hands,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Nor founded on the sands.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And thou, Reverèd Mother, at whose call</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> We come to keep thy joyous festival,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And celebrate thy labours on the walls of Truth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through sevenscore years and ten of thine eternal youth—</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> A master builder thou,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And on thy shining brow,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Like Cybele, in fadeless light dost wear</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> A diadem of turrets strong and fair.</span></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see thee standing in a lonely land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But late and hardly won from solitude,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Unpopulous and rude,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On that far western shore I see thee stand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like some young goddess from a brighter strand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While in thine eyes a radiant thought is born,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Enkindling all thy beauty like the morn.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sea-like the forest rolled, in waves of green,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And few the lights that glimmered, leagues between.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page319" id="page319" title="319"></a> +<span class="i0">High in the north, for fourscore years alone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fair Harvard's earliest beacon-tower had shone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When Yale was lighted, and an answering ray</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flashed from the meadows by New Haven Bay.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But deeper spread the forest, and more dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where first Neshaminy received the spark</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sacred learning to a woodland camp,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And Old Log College glowed with Tennant's lamp.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thine, Alma Mater, was the larger sight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That saw the future of that trembling light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thine the courage, thine the stronger will,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That built its loftier home on Princeton Hill.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“New light!” men cried, and murmured that it came</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From an unsanctioned source with lawless flame;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It shone too free, for still the church and school</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Must only shine according to their rule.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But Princeton answered, in her nobler mood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“God made the light, and all the light is good.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is no war between the old and new;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The conflict lies between the false and true.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The stars, that high in heaven their courses run,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In glory differ, but their light is one.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The beacons, gleaming o'er the sea of life,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are rivals but in radiance, not in strife.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shine on, ye sister-towers, across the night!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I too will build a lasting house of light.”</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page320" id="page320" title="320"></a> +VI</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brave was that word of faith and bravely was it kept:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With never-wearying zeal that faltered not, nor slept,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our Alma Mater toiled, and while she firmly laid</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The deep foundation-walls, at all her toil she prayed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And men who loved the truth because it made them free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And clearly saw the twofold Word of God agree,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Reading from Nature's book and from the Bible's page</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the same inward ray that grows from age to age,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were built like living stones that beacon to uplift,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And drawing light from heaven gave to the world the gift.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor ever, while they searched the secrets of the earth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or traced the stream of life through mystery to its birth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor ever, while they taught the lightning-flash to bear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The messages of man in silence through the air,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fell from their home of light one false, perfidious ray</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To blind the trusting heart, or lead the life astray.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But still, while knowledge grew more luminous and broad</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It lit the path of faith and showed the way to God.</span></p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet not for peace alone</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Labour the builders.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Work that in peace has grown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Swiftly is overthrown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When in the darkening skies</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page321" id="page321" title="321"></a> +<span class="i0">Storm-clouds of wrath arise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And through the cannon's crash,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">War's deadly lightning-flash</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Smites and bewilders.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ramparts of strength must frown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Round every placid town</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And city splendid;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All that our fathers wrought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With true prophetic thought,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Must be defended!</span></p> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> But who could raise protecting walls for thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thou young, defenceless land of liberty?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Or who could build a fortress strong enough,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Or stretch a mighty bulwark long enough</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> To hold thy far-extended coast</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Against the overweening host</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That took the open path across the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And like a tempest poured</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Their desolating horde,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To quench thy dawning light in gloom of tyranny?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Yet not unguarded thou wert found</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When on thy shore with sullen sound</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The blaring trumpets of an unjust king</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Proclaimed invasion. From the ground,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In freedom's darkest hour, there seemed to spring</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page322" id="page322" title="322"></a> +<span class="i1"> Unconquerable walls for her defence;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Not trembling, like those battlements of stone</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That fell when Joshua's horns were blown;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But firm and stark the living rampart rose,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To meet the onset of imperious foes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With a long line of brave, unyielding men.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> This was thy fortress, well-defended land,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And on these walls, the patient, building hand</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of Princeton laboured with the force of ten.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her sons were foremost in the furious fight;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her sons were firmest to uphold the right</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In council-chambers of the new-born State,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And prove that he who would be free must first be great</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In heart, and high in thought, and strong</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In purpose not to do or suffer wrong.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Such were the men, impregnable to fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Whose souls were framed and fashioned here;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when war shook the land with threatening shock,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The men of Princeton stood like muniments of rock.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Nor has the breath of Time</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Dissolved that proud array</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of never-broken strength:</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> For though the rocks decay,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And all the iron bands</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of earthly strongholds are unloosed at length,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And buried deep in gray oblivion's sands;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The work that heroes' hands</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Wrought in the light of freedom's natal day</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page323" id="page323" title="323"></a> +<span class="i4"> Shall never fade away,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> But lifts itself, sublime</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Into a lucid sphere,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> For ever calm and clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Preserving in the memory of the fathers' deed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A never-failing fortress for their children's need.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> There we confirm our hearts to-day, and read</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> On many a stone the signature of fame,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The builder's mark, our Alma Mater's name.</span></p> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Bear with us then a moment, while we turn</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From all the present splendours of this place—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The lofty towers that like a dream have grown</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where once old Nassau Hall stood all alone—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Back to that ancient time, with hearts that burn</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In filial gratitude, to trace</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The glory of our mother's best degree,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In that “high son of Liberty,”</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Who like a granite block,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Riven from Scotland's rock,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Stood loyal here to keep Columbia free.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Born far away beyond the ocean's tide,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He found his fatherland upon this side;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every drop of ardent blood that ran</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through his great heart, was true American.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He held no fealty to a distant throne,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page324" id="page324" title="324"></a> +<span class="i0">But made his new-found country's cause his own.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In peril and distress,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In toil and weariness,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> When darkness overcast her</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> With shadows of disaster,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And voices of confusion</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Proclaimed her hope delusion,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Robed in his preacher's gown,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> He dared the danger down;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like some old prophet chanting an inspired rune</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In freedom's councils rang the voice of Witherspoon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> And thou, my country, write it on thy heart:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Thy sons are they who nobly take thy part;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Who dedicates his manhood at thy shrine,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Wherever born, is born a son of thine.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Foreign in name, but not in soul, they come</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>To find in thee their long desired home;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Lovers of liberty and haters of disorder,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>They shall be built in strength along thy border.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Dream not thy future foes</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Will all be foreign-born!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Turn thy clear look of scorn</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Upon thy children who oppose</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their passions wild and policies of shame</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To wreck the righteous splendour of thy name.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Untaught and overconfident they rise,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page325" id="page325" title="325"></a> +<span class="i1"> With folly on their lips, and envy in their eyes:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Strong to destroy, but powerless to create,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And ignorant of all that made our fathers great,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Their hands would take away thy golden crown,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And shake the pillars of thy freedom down</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In Anarchy's ocean, dark and desolate.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> O should that storm descend,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> What fortress shall defend</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The land our fathers wrought for,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The liberties they fought for?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> What bulwark shall secure</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her shrines of law, and keep her founts of justice pure?</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Then, ah then,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> As in the olden days,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The builders must upraise</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A rampart of indomitable men.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And once again,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Dear Mother, if thy heart and hand be true,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> There will be building work for thee to do;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Yea, more than once again,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thou shalt win lasting praise,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And never-dying honour shall be thine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For setting many stones in that illustrious line,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To stand unshaken in the swirling strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And guard their country's honour as her life.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page326" id="page326" title="326"></a> +X</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Softly, my harp, and let me lay the touch</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of silence on these rudely clanging strings;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For he who sings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even of noble conflicts overmuch,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Loses the inward sense of better things;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And he who makes a boast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of knowledge, darkens that which counts the most,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The insight of a wise humility</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That reverently adores what none can see.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The glory of our life below</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Comes not from what we do, or what we know,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But dwells forevermore in what we are.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> There is an architecture grander far</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Than all the fortresses of war,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> More inextinguishably bright</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Than learning's lonely towers of light.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Framing its walls of faith and hope and love</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In souls of men, it lifts above</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The frailty of our earthly home</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> An everlasting dome;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The sanctuary of the human host,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The living temple of the Holy Ghost.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page327" id="page327" title="327"></a> +XI</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> If music led the builders long ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> When Arthur planned the halls of Camelot,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And made the royal city grow,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Fair as a flower in that forsaken spot;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> What sweeter music shall we bring,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To weave a harmony divine</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of prayer and holy thought</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into the labours of this loftier shrine,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> This consecrated hill,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where through so many a year</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our Alma Mater's hand hath wrought,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> With toil serene and still,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And heavenly hope, to rear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Eternal dwellings for the Only King?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Here let no martial trumpets blow,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nor instruments of pride proclaim</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The loud exultant notes of fame!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But let the chords be clear and low,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And let the anthem deeper grow,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And let it move more solemnly and slow;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> For only such an ode</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Can seal the harmony</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of that deep masonry</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wherein the soul of man is framed for God's abode.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page328" id="page328" title="328"></a> +XII</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Thou whose boundless love bestows</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The joy of earth, the hope of Heaven,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And whose unchartered mercy flows</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> O'er all the blessings Thou hast given;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou by whose light alone we see;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And by whose truth our souls set free</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are made imperishably strong;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hear Thou the solemn music of our song.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Grant us the knowledge that we need</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To solve the questions of the mind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And light our candle while we read,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To keep our hearts from going blind;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Enlarge our vision to behold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wonders Thou hast wrought of old;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Reveal thyself in every law,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And gild the towers of truth with holy awe.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be Thou our strength if war's wild gust</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Shall rage around us, loud and fierce;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Confirm our souls and let our trust</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Be like a shield that none can pierce;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Renew the courage that prevails,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The steady faith that never fails,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And make us stand in every fight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Firm as a fortress to defend the right.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page329" id="page329" title="329"></a> +<span class="i0">O God, control us as Thou wilt,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And guide the labour of our hand;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let all our work be surely built</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As Thou, the architect, hast planned;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But whatso'er thy power shall make</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of these frail lives, do not forsake</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy dwelling: let thy presence rest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For ever in the temple of our breast.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page330" id="page330" title="330"></a> +SPIRIT OF THE EVERLASTING BOY</h3> + +<h4>ODE FOR THE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF +LAWRENCEVILLE SCHOOL</h4> + +<h4>June 11, 1910</h4> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The British bard who looked on Eton's walls,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Endeared by distance in the pearly gray</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And soft aerial blue that ever falls</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On English landscape with the dying day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beheld in thought his boyhood far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Its random raptures and its festivals</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of noisy mirth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The brief illusion of its idle joys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And mourned that none of these can stay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With men, whom life inexorably calls</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To face the grim realities of earth.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His pensive fancy pictured there at play</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From year to year the careless bands of boys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unconscious victims kept in golden state,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> While haply they await</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The dark approach of disenchanting Fate,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To hale them to the sacrifice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Pain and Penury and Grief and Care,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Slow-withering Age, or Failure's swift despair.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Half-pity and half-envy dimmed the eyes</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page331" id="page331" title="331"></a> +<span class="i0">Of that old poet, gazing on the scene</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where long ago his youth had flowed serene,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the burden of his ode was this:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> “Where ignorance is bliss,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> 'Tis folly to be wise.”</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not for us, O plaintive elegist,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thine epicedial tone of sad farewell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To joy in wisdom and to thought in youth!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our western Muse would keep her tryst</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With sunrise, not with sunset, and foretell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In boyhood's bliss the dawn of manhood's truth.</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> O spirit of the everlasting boy,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Alert, elate,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And confident that life is good,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thou knockest boldly at the gate,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In hopeful hardihood,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Eager to enter and enjoy</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Thy new estate.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through the old house thou runnest everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bringing a breath of folly and fresh air.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ready to make a treasure of each toy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or break them all in discontented mood;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page332" id="page332" title="332"></a> +<span class="i4"> Fearless of Fate,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Yet strangely fearful of a comrade's laugh;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Reckless and timid, hard and sensitive;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In talk a rebel, full of mocking chaff,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> At heart devout conservative;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In love with love, yet hating to be kissed;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Inveterate optimist,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And judge severe,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In reason cloudy but in feeling clear;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Keen critic, ardent hero-worshipper,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Impatient of restraint in little ways,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Yet ever ready to confer</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> On chosen leaders boundless power and praise;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Adventurous spirit burning to explore</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Untrodden paths where hidden danger lies,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And homesick heart looking with wistful eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through every twilight to a mother's door;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thou daring, darling, inconsistent boy,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> How dull the world would be</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Without thy presence, dear barbarian,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And happy lord of high futurity!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Be what thou art, our trouble and our joy,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our hardest problem and our brightest hope!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And while thine elders lead thee up the slope</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of knowledge, let them learn from teaching thee</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That vital joy is part of nature's plan,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And he who keeps the spirit of the boy</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Shall gladly grow to be a happy man.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page333" id="page333" title="333"></a> +IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> What constitutes a school?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not ancient halls and ivy-mantled towers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where dull traditions rule</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With heavy hand youth's lightly springing powers;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Not spacious pleasure courts,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lofty temples of athletic fame,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where devotees of sports</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mistake a pastime for life's highest aim;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Not fashion, nor renown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of wealthy patronage and rich estate;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> No, none of these can crown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A school with light and make it truly great.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But masters, strong and wise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who teach because they love the teacher's task,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And find their richest prize</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In eyes that open and in minds that ask;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And boys, with heart aglow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To try their youthful vigour on their work,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Eager to learn and grow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And quick to hate a coward or a shirk:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> These constitute a school,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A vital forge of weapons keen and bright,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where living sword and tool</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are tempered for true toil or noble fight!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But let not wisdom scorn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hours of pleasure in the playing fields:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page334" id="page334" title="334"></a> +<span class="i1"> There also strength is born,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every manly game a virtue yields.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fairness and self-control,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Good-humour, pluck, and patience in the race,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Will make a lad heart-whole</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To win with honour, lose without disgrace.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ah, well for him who gains</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In such a school apprenticeship to life:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With him the joy of youth remains</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In later lessons and in larger strife!</span></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Jersey's rolling plain, where Washington,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In midnight marching at the head</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of ragged regiments, his army led</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To Princeton's victory of the rising sun;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here in this liberal land, by battle won</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For Freedom and the rule</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of equal rights for every child of man,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Arose a democratic school,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To train a virile race of sons to bear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With thoughtful joy the name American,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And serve the God who heard their father's prayer.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No cloister, dreaming in a world remote</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From that real world wherein alone we live;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No mimic court, where titled names denote</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A dignity that only worth can give;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page335" id="page335" title="335"></a> +<span class="i0">But here a friendly house of learning stood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With open door beside the broad highway,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And welcomed lads to study and to play</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In generous rivalry of brotherhood.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred years have passed, and Lawrenceville,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In beauty and in strength renewed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Stands with her open portal still,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And neither time nor fortune brings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To her deep spirit any change of mood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or faltering from the faith she held of old.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Still to the democratic creed she clings:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That manhood needs nor rank nor gold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make it noble in our eyes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That every boy is born with royal right,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From blissful ignorance to rise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To joy more lasting and more bright,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In mastery of body and of mind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">King of himself and servant of mankind.</span></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Old Lawrenceville,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thy happy bell</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Shall ring to-day,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> O'er vale and hill,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> O'er mead and dell,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> While far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With silent thrill,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page336" id="page336" title="336"></a> +<span class="i2"> The echoes roll</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Through many a soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That knew thee well,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In boyhood's day,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And loves thee still.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Ah, who can tell</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> How far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Some sentinel</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of God's good will,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In forest cool,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Or desert gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> By lonely pool,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Or barren hill,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Shall faintly hear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With inward ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The chiming bell,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of his old school,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through darkness pealing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lowly kneeling,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Shall feel the spell</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of grateful tears</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> His eyelids fill;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And softly pray</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To Him who hears:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">God bless old Lawrenceville!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page337" id="page337" title="337"></a> +TEXAS</h3> + +<h4> +<a name="footnoteref1" id="footnoteref1"></a> +A DEMOCRATIC ODE <a href="#footnote1"> * </a></h4> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>THE WILD-BEES</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All along the Brazos river,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All along the Colorado,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the valleys and the lowlands</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the trees were tall and stately,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the rich and rolling meadows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the grass was full of wild-flowers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Came a humming and a buzzing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Came the murmur of a going</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To and fro among the tree-tops,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Far and wide across the meadows.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the red-men in their tepees</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Smoked their pipes of clay and listened.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“What is this?” they asked in wonder;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Who can give the sound a meaning?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who can understand the language</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of this going in the tree-tops?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then the wisest of the Tejas</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Laid his pipe aside and answered:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“O my brothers, these are people,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Very little, winged people,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page338" id="page338" title="338"></a> +<span class="i0">Countless, busy, banded people,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Coming humming through the timber.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These are tribes of bees, united</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By a single aim and purpose,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To possess the Tejas' country,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gather harvest from the prairies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Store their wealth among the timber.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These are hive and honey makers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sent by Manito to warn us</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That the white men now are coming,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With their women and their children.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not the fiery filibusters</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Passing wildly in a moment,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a flame across the prairies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a whirlwind through the forest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Leaving empty lands behind them!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not the Mexicans and Spaniards,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Indolent and proud hidalgos,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dwelling in their haciendas,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dreaming, talking of tomorrow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While their cattle graze around them,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And their fickle revolutions</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Change the rulers, not the people!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Other folk are these who follow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When the wild-bees come to warn us;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These are hive and honey makers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These are busy, banded people,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Roaming far to swarm and settle,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page339" id="page339" title="339"></a> +<span class="i0">Working every day for harvest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fighting hard for peace and order,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Worshipping as queens their women,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Making homes and building cities</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Full of riches and of trouble.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All our hunting-grounds must vanish,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All our lodges fall before them,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All our customs and traditions,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All our happy life of freedom,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fade away like smoke before them.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come, my brothers, strike your tepees,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Call your women, load your ponies!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let us take the trail to westward,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the plains are wide and open,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the bison-herds are gathered</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Waiting for our feathered arrows.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We will live as lived our fathers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gleaners of the gifts of nature,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hunters of the unkept cattle,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Men whose women run to serve them.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If the toiling bees pursue us,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If the white men seek to tame us,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We will fight them off and flee them,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Break their hives and take their honey,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Moving westward, ever westward,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There to live as lived our fathers.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So the red-men drove their ponies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With the tent-poles trailing after,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page340" id="page340" title="340"></a> +<span class="i0">Out along the path to sunset,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While along the river valleys</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Swarmed the wild-bees, the forerunners;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the white men, close behind them,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Men of mark from old Missouri,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Men of daring from Kentucky,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tennessee, Louisiana,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Men of many States and races,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bringing wives and children with them,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Followed up the wooded valleys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spread across the rolling prairies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Raising homes and reaping harvests.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rude the toil that tried their patience,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fierce the fights that proved their courage,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rough the stone and tough the timber</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of which they built their order!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet they never failed nor faltered,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the instinct of their swarming</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Made them one and kept them working,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till their toil was crowned with triumph,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the country of the Tejas</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was the fertile land of Texas.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page341" id="page341" title="341"></a> +II</h4> + +<h4>THE LONE STAR</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold a star appearing in the South,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A star that shines apart from other stars,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Ruddy and fierce like Mars!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of the reeking smoke of cannon's mouth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That veils the slaughter of the Alamo,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Where heroes face the foe,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One man against a score, with blood-choked breath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shouting the watchword, “Victory or Death—”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of the dreadful cloud that settles low</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> On Goliad's plain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where thrice a hundred prisoners lie slain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the broken word of Mexico—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of the fog of factions and of feuds</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That ever drifts and broods</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above the bloody path of border war,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Leaps the Lone Star!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What light is this that does not dread the dark?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What star is this that fights a stormy way</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To San Jacinto's field of victory?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> It is the fiery spark</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That burns within the breast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Anglo-Saxon men, who can not rest</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Under a tyrant's sway;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The upward-leading ray</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page342" id="page342" title="342"></a> +<span class="i0">That guides the brave who give their lives away</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Rather than not be free!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O question not, but honour every name,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Travis and Crockett, Bowie, Bonham, Ward,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fannin and King, and all who drew the sword</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And dared to die for Texan liberty!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yea, write them all upon the roll of fame,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But no less love and equal honour give</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To those who paid the longer sacrifice—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Austin and Houston, Burnet, Rusk, Lamar</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the stalwart men who dared to live</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Long years of service to the lonely star.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great is the worth of such heroic souls:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the strenuous turmoil of their deeds,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They clearly speak of something that controls</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The higher breeds of men by higher needs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than bees, content with honey in their hives!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Ah, not enough the narrow lives</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> On profitable toil intent!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And not enough the guerdons of success</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Garnered in homes of affluent selfishness!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A noble discontent</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Cries for a wider scope</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To use the wider wings of human hope;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A vision of the common good</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Opens the prison-door of solitude;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And, once beyond the wall,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page343" id="page343" title="343"></a> +<span class="i2"> Breathing the ampler air,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The heart becomes aware</span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>That life without a country is not life at all.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A country worthy of a freeman's love;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A country worthy of a good man's prayer;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A country strong, and just, and brave, and fair,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A woman's form of beauty throned above</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The shrine where noble aspirations meet—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To live for her is great, to die is sweet!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Heirs of the rugged pioneers</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Who dreamed this dream and made it true,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Remember that they dreamed for you.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> They did not fear their fate</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In those tempestuous years,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But put their trust in God, and with keen eyes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Trained in the open air for looking far,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> They saw the many-million-acred land</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Won from the desert by their hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Swiftly among the nations rise,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Texas a sovereign State,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And on her brow a star!</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page344" id="page344" title="344"></a> +III</h4> + +<h4>THE CONSTELLATION</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How strange that the nature of light is a thing beyond our ken,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the flame of the tiniest candle flows from a fountain sealed!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How strange that the meaning of life, in the little lives of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> So often baffles our search with a mystery unrevealed!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the larger life of man, as it moves in its secular sweep,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Is the working out of a Sovereign Will whose ways appear;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the course of the journeying stars on the dark blue boundless deep,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Is the place where our science rests in the reign of law most clear.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I would read the story of Texas as if it were written on high;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I would look from afar to follow her path through the calms and storms;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With a faith in the worldwide sway of the Reason that rules in the sky,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And gathers and guides the starry host in clusters and swarms.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page345" id="page345" title="345"></a> +<span class="i0">When she rose in the pride of her youth, she seemed to be moving apart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As a single star in the South, self-limited, self-possessed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the law of the constellation was written deep in her heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And she heard when her sisters called, from the North and the East and the West.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They were drawn together and moved by a common hope and aim—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The dream of a sign that should rule a third of the heavenly arch;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The soul of a people spoke in their call, and Texas came</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To enter the splendid circle of States in their onward march.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So the glory gathered and grew and spread from sea to sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the stars of the great republic lent each other light;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For all were bound together in strength, and each was free—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Suddenly broke the tempest out of the ancient night!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It came as a clash of the force that drives and the force that draws;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And the stars were riven asunder, the heavens were desolate,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page346" id="page346" title="346"></a> +<span class="i0">While brother fought with brother, each for his country's cause:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But the country of one was the Nation, the country of other the State.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, who shall measure the praise or blame in a strife so vast?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And who shall speak of traitors or tyrants when all were true?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We lift our eyes to the sky, and rejoice that the storm is past,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And we thank the God of all that the Union shines in the blue.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yea, it glows with the glory of peace and the hope of a mighty race,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> High over the grave of broken chains and buried hates;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the great, big star of Texas is shining clear in its place</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the constellate symbol and sign of the free United States.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page347" id="page347" title="347"></a> +IV</h4> + +<h4>AFTER THE PIONEERS</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">After the pioneers—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Big-hearted, big-handed lords of the axe and the plow and the rifle,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tan-faced tamers of horses and lands, themselves remaining tameless,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Full of fighting, labour and romance, lovers of rude adventure—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">After the pioneers have cleared the way to their homes and graves on the prairies:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">After the State-builders—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Zealous and jealous men, dreamers, debaters, often at odds with each other,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All of them sure it is well to toil and to die, if need be,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Just for the sake of founding a country to leave to their children—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">After the builders have done their work and written their names upon it:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">After the civil war—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wildest of all storms, cruel and dark and seemingly wasteful,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tearing up by the root the vines that were splitting the old foundations,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page348" id="page348" title="348"></a> +<span class="i0">Washing away with a rain of blood and tears the dust of slavery,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">After the cyclone has passed and the sky is fair to the far horizon;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">After the era of plenty and peace has come with full hands to Texas,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then—what then?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it to be the life of an indolent heir, fat-witted and self-contented,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dwelling at ease in the house that others have builded,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Boasting about the country for which he has done nothing?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is it to be an age of corpulent, deadly-dull prosperity,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Richer and richer crops to nourish a race of Philistines,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bigger and bigger cities full of the same confusion and sorrow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The people increasing mightily but no increase of the joy?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is this what the forerunners wished and toiled to win for you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This the reward of war and the fruitage of high endeavor,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This the goal of your hopes and the vision that satisfies you?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, stand up and answer—I can read what is in your hearts—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You, the children of those who followed the wild-bees,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page349" id="page349" title="349"></a> +<span class="i0">You, the children of those who served the Lone Star,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now that the hives are full and the star is fixed in the constellation,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I know that the best of you still are lovers of sweetness and light!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You hunger for honey that comes from invisible gardens;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pure, translucent, golden thoughts and feelings and inspirations,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweetness of all the best that has bloomed in the mind of man.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You rejoice in the light that is breaking along the borders of science;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hidden rays that enable a man to look through a wall of stone;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The unseen, fire-filled wings that carry his words across the ocean;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The splendid gift of flight that shines, half-captured, above him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gleam of a thousand half-guessed secrets, just ready to be discovered!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You dream and devise great things for the coming race—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Children of yours who shall people and rule the domain of Texas;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They shall know, they shall comprehend more than their fathers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They shall grow in the vigour of well-rounded manhood and womanhood,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page350" id="page350" title="350"></a> +<span class="i0">Riper minds, richer hearts, finer souls, the only true wealth of a nation—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The league-long fields of the State are pledged to ensure this harvest!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your old men have dreamed this dream and your young men have seen this vision.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The age of romance has not gone, it is only beginning;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Greater words than the ear of man has heard are waiting to be spoken,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Finer arts than the eyes of man have seen are sleeping to be awakened:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Science exploring the scope of the world,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Poetry breathing the hope of the world,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Music to measure and lead the onward march of man!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, ye honoured and welcome guests from the elder nations,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Princes of science and arts and letters,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look on the walls that embody the generous dream of one of the old men of Texas,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Enter these halls of learning that rise in the land of the pioneer's log-cabin,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Read the confessions of faith that are carved on the stones around you:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Faith in the worth of the smallest fact and the laws that govern the starbeams,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page351" id="page351" title="351"></a> +<span class="i0">Faith in the beauty of truth and the truth of perfect beauty,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Faith in the God who creates the souls of men by knowledge and love and worship.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the faith of the New Democracy—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Proud and humble, patiently pressing forward,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Praising her heroes of old and training her future leaders,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Seeking her crown in a nobler race of men and women—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">After the pioneers, sweetness and light!</span></p> + +<p class="note">October, 1912.</p> + +<p class="note"> +<a name="footnote1" id="footnote1"></a><a href="#footnoteref1"> * </a> +Read at the Dedication of the Rice Institute, Houston, Texas, October, 1912.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page352" id="page352" title="352"></a> +WHO FOLLOW THE FLAG</h3> + +<h4>PHI BETA KAPPA ODE</h4> +<h4>HARVARD UNIVERSITY</h4> + +<h4>June 30, 1910</h4> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All day long in the city's canyon-street,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With its populous cliffs alive on either side,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I saw a river of marching men like a tide</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flowing after the flag: and the rhythmic beat</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the drums, and the bugles' resonant blare</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Metred the tramp, tramp, tramp of a myriad feet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the red-white-and-blue was fluttering everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the heart of the crowd kept time to a martial air:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>O brave flag, O bright flag, O flag to lead the free!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>The glory of thy silver stars,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Engrailed in blue above the bars</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Of red for courage, white for truth,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Has brought the world a second youth</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"><i>And drawn a hundred million hearts to follow after thee.</i></span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old Cambridge saw thee first unfurled,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> By Washington's far-reaching hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To greet, in Seventy-six, the wintry morn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of a new year, and herald to the world</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page353" id="page353" title="353"></a> +<span class="i1"> Glad tidings from a Western land,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A people and a hope new-born!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The double cross then filled thine azure field,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In token of a spirit loath to yield</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The breaking ties that bound thee to a throne.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But not for long thine oriflamme could bear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That symbol of an outworn trust in kings.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wind that bore thee out on widening wings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Called for a greater sign and all thine own,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A new device to speak of heavenly laws</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lights that surely guide the people's cause.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, greatly did they hope, and greatly dare,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who bade the stars in heaven fight for them,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And set upon their battle-flag a fair</span><br /> +<span class="i0">New constellation as a diadem!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the blood-stained banks of Brandywine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ragged troops were rallied to this sign;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through Saratoga's woods it fluttered bright</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the perils of the hard-won fight;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O'er Yorktown's meadows broad and green</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It hailed the glory of the final scene;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when at length Manhattan saw</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The last invaders' line of scarlet coats</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pass Bowling Green, and fill the waiting boats</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And sullenly withdraw,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The flag that proudly flew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above the battered line of buff and blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Marching, with rattling drums and shrilling pipes,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page354" id="page354" title="354"></a> +<span class="i0">Along the Bowery and down Broadway,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was this that leads the great parade to-day,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The glorious banner of the stars and stripes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> <i>First of the flags of earth to dare</i></span><br /> +<span class="i4"> <i>A heraldry so high;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>First of the flags of earth to bear</i></span><br /> +<span class="i4"> <i>The blazons of the sky;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Long may thy constellation glow,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i4"> <i>Foretelling happy fate;</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>Wider thy starry circle grow,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i4"> <i>And every star a State!</i></span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pass on, pass on, ye flashing files</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of men who march in militant array;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ye thrilling bugles, throbbing drums,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ring out, roll on, and die away;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fade, ye crowds, with the fading day!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Around the city's lofty piles</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of steel and stone</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The lilac veil of dusk is thrown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Entangled full of sparks of fairy light;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the never-silent heart of the city hums</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To a homeward-turning tune before the night.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But far above, on the sky-line's broken height,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all the towers and domes outlined</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page355" id="page355" title="355"></a> +<span class="i0">In gray and gold along the city's crest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I see the rippling flag still take the wind</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With a promise of good to come for all mankind.</span></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> O banner of the west,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> No proud and brief parade,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That glorifies a nation's holiday</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With show of troops for warfare dressed,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Can rightly measure or display</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The mighty army thou hast made</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Loyal to guard thy more than royal sway.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Millions have come across the sea</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To find beneath thy shelter room to grow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Millions were born beneath thy folds and know</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> No other flag but thee.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And other, darker millions bore the yoke</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of bondage in thy borders till the voice</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of Lincoln spoke,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sent thee forth to set the bondmen free.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Rejoice, dear flag, rejoice!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Since thou hast proved and passed that bitter strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Richer thy red with blood of heroes wet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Purer thy white through sacrificial life,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brighter thy blue wherein new stars are set.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thou art become a sign,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Revealed in heaven to speak of things divine:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page356" id="page356" title="356"></a> +<span class="i2"> Of Truth that dares</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To slay the lie it sheltered unawares;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of Courage fearless in the fight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet ever quick its foemen to forgive;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Conscience earnest to maintain its right</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And gladly grant the same to all who live.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thy staff is deeply planted in the fact</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That nothing can ennoble man</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Save his own act,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And naught can make him worthy to be free</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But practice in the school of liberty.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The cords are two that lift thee to the sky:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Firm faith in God, the King who rules on high;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And never-failing trust</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In human nature, full of faults and flaws,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet ever answering to the inward call</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That bids it set the “ought” above the “must,”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In all its errors wiser than it seems,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In all its failures full of generous dreams,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through endless conflict rising without pause</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To self-dominion, charactered in laws</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That pledge fair-play alike to great and small,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And equal rights for each beneath the rule of all.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> These are thy halyards, banner bold,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And while these hold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy brightness from the sky shall never fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy broadening empire never know decrease,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy strength is union and thy glory peace.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page357" id="page357" title="357"></a> +V</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look forth across thy widespread lands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O flag, and let thy stars to-night be eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To see the visionary hosts</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of men and women grateful to be thine,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That joyfully arise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all thy borders and thy coasts,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And follow after thee in endless line!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They lift to thee a forest of saluting hands;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They hail thee with a rolling ocean-roar</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of cheers; and as the echo dies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There comes a sweet and moving song</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of treble voices from the childish throng</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who run to thee from every school-house door.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behold thine army! Here thy power lies:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The men whom freedom has made strong,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bound to follow thee by willing vows;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The women greatened by the joys</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of motherhood to rule a happy house;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The vigorous girls and boys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose eager faces and unclouded brows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Foretell the future of a noble race,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rich in the wealth of wisdom and true worth!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While millions such as these to thee belong,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> What foe can do thee wrong,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What jealous rival rob thee of thy place</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Foremost of all the flags of earth?</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page358" id="page358" title="358"></a> +VI</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My vision darkens as the night descends;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And through the mystic atmosphere</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I feel the creeping coldness that portends</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A change of spirit in my dream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The multitude that moved with song and cheer</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Have vanished, yet a living stream</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Flows on and follows still the flag,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But silent now, with leaden feet that lag</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And falter in the deepening gloom,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A weird battalion bringing up the rear.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, who are these on whom the vital bloom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of life has withered to the dust of doom?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These little pilgrims prematurely worn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bent as if they bore the weight of years?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These childish faces, pallid and forlorn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Too dull for laughter and too hard for tears?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is this the ghost of that insane crusade</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That led ten thousand children long ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A flock of innocents, deceived, betrayed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet pressing on through want and woe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To meet their fate, faithful and unafraid?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Nay, for a million children now</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are marching in the long pathetic line,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With weary step and early wrinkled brow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And at their head appears no holy sign</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of hope in heaven;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For unto them is given</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page359" id="page359" title="359"></a> +<span class="i0">No cross to carry, but a cross to drag.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before their strength is ripe they bear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The load of labour, toiling underground</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In dangerous mines and breathing heavy air</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of crowded shops; their tender lives are bound</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To service of the whirling, clattering wheels</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That fill the factories with dust and noise;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> They are not girls and boys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But little “hands” who blindly, dumbly feed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With their own blood the hungry god of Greed.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Robbed of their natural joys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And wounded with a scar that never heals,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They stumble on with heavy-laden soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fall by thousands on the highway lined</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With little graves; or reach at last their goal</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of stunted manhood and embittered age,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To brood awhile with dark and troubled mind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beside the smouldering fire of sullen rage,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On life's unfruitful work and niggard wage.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are these the regiments that Freedom rears</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To serve her cause in coming years?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nay, every life that Avarice doth maim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And beggar in the helpless days of youth,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Shall surely claim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A just revenge, and take it without ruth;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every soul denied the right to grow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the flag, shall be its secret foe.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bow down, dear land, in penitence and shame!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page360" id="page360" title="360"></a> +<span class="i0">Remember now thine oath, so nobly sworn,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To guard an equal lot</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For every child within thy borders born!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These are thy children whom thou hast forgot:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They have the bitter right to live, but not</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The blessed right to look for happiness.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O lift thy liberating hand once more,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To loose thy little ones from dark duress;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The vital gladness to their hearts restore</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In healthful lessons and in happy play;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And set them free to climb the upward way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That leads to self-reliant nobleness.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Speak out, my country, speak at last,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> As thou hast spoken in the past,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And clearly, bravely say:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> “I will defend</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The coming race on whom my hopes depend:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath my flag and on my sacred soil</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No child shall bear the crushing yoke of toil.”</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page361" id="page361" title="361"></a> +VII</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look up, look up, ye downcast eyes!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The night is almost gone:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the new horizon flies</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The banner of the dawn;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The eastern sky is banded low</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With white and crimson bars,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While far above the morning glow</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The everlasting stars.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>O bright flag, O brave flag, O flag to lead the free!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>The hand of God thy colours blent,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>And heaven to earth thy glory lent,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>To shield the weak, and guide the strong</i></span><br /> +<span class="i2"> <i>To make an end of human wrong,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>And draw a countless human host to follow after thee!</i></span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page362" id="page362" title="362"></a> +STAIN NOT THE SKY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Ye gods of battle, lords of fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Who work your iron will as well</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As once ye did with sword and spear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With rifled gun and rending shell,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Masters of sea and land, forbear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fierce invasion of the inviolate air!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> With patient daring man hath wrought</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A hundred years for power to fly;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And will you make his winged thought</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A hovering horror in the sky,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where flocks of human eagles sail,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dropping their bolts of death on hill and dale?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Ah no, the sunset is too pure,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The dawn too fair, the noon too bright</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For wings of terror to obscure</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Their beauty, and betray the night</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That keeps for man, above his wars,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tranquil vision of untroubled stars.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page363" id="page363" title="363"></a> +<span class="i1"> Pass on, pass on, ye lords of fear!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Your footsteps in the sea are red,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And black on earth your paths appear</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With ruined homes and heaps of dead.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Pass on to end your transient reign,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And leave the blue of heaven without a stain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> The wrong ye wrought will fall to dust,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The right ye shielded will abide;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The world at last will learn to trust</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In law to guard, and love to guide;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And Peace of God that answers prayer</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will fall like dew from the inviolate air.</span></p> + +<p class="note">March 5, 1914.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page364" id="page364" title="364"></a> +PEACE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hath made our country free;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all her broad and happy land</span><br /> +<span class="i0">May praise arise to Thee.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fulfill the promise of her youth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her liberty defend;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By law and order, love and truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">America befriend!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The strength of every State increase</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In Union's golden chain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her thousand cities fill with peace,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her million fields with grain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The virtues of her mingled blood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In one new people blend;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By unity and brotherhood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">America befriend!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page365" id="page365" title="365"></a> +<span class="i0">O suffer not her feet to stray;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But guide her untaught might,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That she may walk in peaceful day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lead the world in light.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bring down the proud, lift up the poor,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unequal ways amend;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By justice, nation-wide and sure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">America befriend!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thro' all the waiting land proclaim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy gospel of good-will;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And may the music of Thy name</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In every bosom thrill.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O'er hill and vale, from sea to sea.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy holy reign extend;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By faith and hope and charity,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">America befriend!</span></p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page366" id="page366" title="366"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page367" id="page367" title="367"></a> +THE RED FLOWER<br /> +AND<br /> +GOLDEN STARS</h2> + +<p class="note"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page368" id="page368" title="368"></a> +<i>These verses were written during the terrible world-war, and +immediately after. The earlier ones had to be unsigned because +America was still “neutral” and I held a diplomatic post. The +rest of them were printed after I had resigned, and was free to +speak out, and to take active service in the Navy, when America +entered the great conflict for liberty and peace on earth.</i></p> + +<p class="note">Avalon, February 22, 1920.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page369" id="page369" title="369"></a> +THE RED FLOWER</h3> + +<h4>June, 1914</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the pleasant time of Pentecost,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> By the little river Kyll,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I followed the angler's winding path</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Or waded the stream at will,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the friendly fertile German land</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lay round me green and still.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But all day long on the eastern bank</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the river cool and clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the curving track of the double rails</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Was hardly seen though near,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The endless trains of German troops</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Went rolling down to Trier.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They packed the windows with bullet heads</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And caps of hodden gray;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They laughed and sang and shouted loud</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When the trains were brought to a stay;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They waved their hands and sang again</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As they went on their iron way.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page370" id="page370" title="370"></a> +<span class="i0">No shadow fell on the smiling land,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> No cloud arose in the sky;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I could hear the river's quiet tune</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When the trains had rattled by;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But my heart sank low with a heavy sense</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of trouble,—I knew not why.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then came I into a certain field</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where the devil's paint-brush spread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A flaring splotch of red,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An evil omen, a bloody sign,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And a token of many dead.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw in a vision the field-gray horde</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Break forth at the devil's hour,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And trample the earth into crimson mud</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the rage of the Will to Power,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> At the sign of the blood-red flower.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page371" id="page371" title="371"></a> +A SCRAP OF PAPER</h3> + +<p class="note">“Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?”—<i>Question of the German +Chancellor to the British Ambassador</i>, <i>August 5</i>, 1914.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A mocking question! Britain's answer came</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Swift as the light and searching as the flame.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till our last breath, and God defend the right!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A scrap of paper where a name is set</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A scrap of paper holds for man and wife</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sacrament of love, the bond of life.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With God's eternal word to hallow it.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A scrap of paper binds us both to stand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Defenders of a neutral neighbor land.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To keep our name upon that paper white.”</span></p> + +<p class="note">September, 1914.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page372" id="page372" title="372"></a> +STAND FAST</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Stand fast, Great Britain!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One in the faith that makes a mighty land,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">True to the bond you gave and will not break</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against the Giant Robber clad in steel,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Striding through France to strike you down at last,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Britain, stand fast!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Stand fast, brave land!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Huns are thundering toward the citadel;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They prate of Culture but their path is Hell;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They wield and worship is their only Lord.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O land where reason stands secure on right,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O land where freedom is the source of light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Britain, stand fast!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page373" id="page373" title="373"></a> +<span class="i3"> Stand fast, dear land!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou island mother of a world-wide race,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fight on until the Teuton madness cease;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fight bravely on, until the word of peace</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is spoken in the English tongue at last,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Britain, stand fast!</span></p> + +<p class="note">September, 1914.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page374" id="page374" title="374"></a> +LIGHTS OUT</h3> + +<h4>(1915)</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Lights out” along the land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Lights out” upon the sea.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The night must put her hiding hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O'er peaceful towns where children sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And peaceful ships that darkly creep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the waves, as if they were not free.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dragons of the air,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hell-hounds of the deep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lurking and prowling everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Go forth to seek their helpless prey,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not knowing whom they maim or slay—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out with the tranquil lights,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out with the lights that burn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For love and law and human rights!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Set back the clock a thousand years:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All they have gained now disappears,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the dark ages suddenly return.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page375" id="page375" title="375"></a> +<span class="i0">Kaiser, who loosed wild death,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And terror in the night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">God grant you draw no quiet breath,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until the madness you began</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is ended, and long-suffering man,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Set free from war lords, cries, “Let there be Light.”</span></p> + +<p class="note">October, 1915.</p> + +<p class="note">Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, November, +1915.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page376" id="page376" title="376"></a> +REMARKS ABOUT KINGS</h3> + +<p class="note">“<i>God said I am tired of kings.</i>”—EMERSON.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">God said, “I am tired of kings,”—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But that was a long while ago!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And meantime man said, “No,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I like their looks in their robes and rings.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So he crowned a few more,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And they went on playing the game as before,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fighting and spoiling things.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Man said, “I am tired of kings!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They make me pay for their lust and their war;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am the puppet, they pull the strings;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The blood of my heart is the wine they drink.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will govern myself for awhile I think,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And see what that brings!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then God, who made the first remark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Smiled in the dark.</span></p> + +<p class="note">October, 1915.</p> + +<p class="note">Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, November, +1915.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page377" id="page377" title="377"></a> +MIGHT AND RIGHT</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If Right made Might, this were the golden age;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But now, until we win the long campaign,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign.</span></p> + +<p class="note">July 1, 1915.</p> + +<h3>THE PRICE OF PEACE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace without Justice is a low estate,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A coward cringing to an iron Fate!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll pay the price of war to make it real.</span></p> + +<p class="note">December 28, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page378" id="page378" title="378"></a> +STORM-MUSIC</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O Music hast thou only heard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The laughing river, the singing bird,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing but Nature's melodies?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nay, thou hearest all her tones,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> As a Queen must hear!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Sounds of wrath and fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Mutterings, shouts, and moans,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Madness, tumult, and despair,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All she has that shakes the air</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With voices fierce and wild!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Triumphant in a world of storm and strain!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Echo the long-drawn sighs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the mounting wind in the pines;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the dark of the troubled deep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To break on the beach in fiery lines.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Echo the far-off roll of thunder,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Rumbling loud</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And ever louder, under</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The blue-black curtain of cloud,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where the lightning serpents gleam.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page379" id="page379" title="379"></a> +<span class="i2"> Echo the moaning</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the forest in its sleep</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Like a giant groaning</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the torment of a dream.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Now an interval of quiet</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For a moment holds the air</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the breathless hush</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of a silent prayer.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Then the sudden rush</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the rain, and the riot</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the shrieking, tearing gale</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Breaks loose in the night,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With a fusillade of hail!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Hear the forest fight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With its tossing arms that crack and clash</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the thunder's cannonade,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While the lightning's forked flash</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hear the breakers' deepening roar,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Driven like a herd of cattle</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the wild stampede of battle,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page380" id="page380" title="380"></a> +<span class="i2"> Is it the end of all?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Will the land crumble and fall?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Nay, for a voice replies</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Out of the hidden skies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So long, O wind, shalt thou blow:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Return to your bounds and cease,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And let the earth have peace!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> O Music, lead the way—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The stormy night is past,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lift up our hearts to greet the day,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the joy of things that last.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> The dissonance and pain</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That mortals must endure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are changed in thine immortal strain</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To something great and pure.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> True love will conquer strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And strength from conflict flows,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For discord is the thorn of life</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And harmony the rose.</span></p> + +<p class="note">May, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page381" id="page381" title="381"></a> +THE BELLS OF MALINES</h3> + +<h4>August 17, 1914</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gabled roofs of old Malines</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are russet red and gray and green,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And o'er them in the sunset hour</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">High in that rugged nest concealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sweetest bells that ever pealed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The deepest bells that ever rung,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lightest bells that ever sung,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are waiting for the master's hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To fling their music o'er the land.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And shall they ring to-night, Malines?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In nineteen hundred and fourteen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The frightful year, the year of woe,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When fire and blood and rapine flow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the land from lost Liége,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Storm-driven by the German rage?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The other carillons have ceased:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From Ghent and Bruges no voices come,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page382" id="page382" title="382"></a> +<span class="i0">But in thy belfry, O Malines,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The master of the bells unseen</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To-night his heart is in his hands!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Once more, before invasion's hell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Breaks round the tower he loves so well,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Once more he strikes the well-worn keys,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sends aërial harmonies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Far-floating through the twilight dim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In patriot song and holy hymn.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O listen, burghers of Malines!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Soldier and workman, pale béguine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And mother with a trembling flock</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of children clinging to thy frock,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look up and listen, listen all!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What tunes are these that gently fall</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Around you like a benison?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“The Flemish Lion,” “Brabançonne,”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“O brave Liége,” and all the airs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That Belgium in her bosom bears.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ring up, ye silvery octaves high,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose notes like circling swallows fly;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And ring, each old sonorous bell,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Jesu,” “Maria,” “Michaël!”</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page383" id="page383" title="383"></a> +<span class="i0">Weave in and out, and high and low,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The magic music that you know,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And let it float and flutter down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To cheer the heart of the troubled town.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ring out, “Salvator,” lord of all,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Roland” in Ghent may hear thee call!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O brave bell-music of Malines,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this dark hour how much you mean!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The dreadful night of blood and tears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Deep in her heart the melody</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of songs she learned when she was free.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She will not falter, faint, nor fail,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But fight until her rights prevail</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all her ancient belfries ring</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“The Flemish Lion,” “God Save the King!”</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page384" id="page384" title="384"></a> +<a name="footnoteref2" id="footnoteref2"></a> +JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS <a href="#footnote2"> * </a></h3> + +<h4>1914-1916</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What hast thou done, O womanhood of France,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To prove the pride of thine inheritance</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this fair land of freedom and romance?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Smiling against the swords that seek thy life,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Make answer in a noble utterance:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I give France all I have, and all she asks.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My feet to run her errands through the dark,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!”</span></p> + +<p class="note">April 16, 1916.</p> + +<p class="note"> +<a name="footnote2" id="footnote2"></a><a href="#footnoteref2"> * </a> +This sonnet belongs with the poem on <a href="#page309">page 309</a>, “Come Back Again, +Jeanne D'Arc.”</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page385" id="page385" title="385"></a> +THE NAME OF FRANCE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give us a name to fill the mind</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With the shining thoughts that lead mankind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The glory of learning, the joy of art,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name that tells of a splendid part</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the human race to win its way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the feudal darkness into the day</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name like a star, a name of light.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> I give you <i>France</i>!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Give us a name to stir the blood</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With a warmer glow and a swifter flood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At the touch of a courage that conquers fear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And silver-sweet, and iron-strong,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That calls three million men to their feet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ready to march, and steady to meet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The foes who threaten that name with wrong,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name that rings like a battle-song.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> I give you <i>France</i>!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page386" id="page386" title="386"></a> +<span class="i0">Give us a name to move the heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With the strength that noble griefs impart,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name that speaks of the blood outpoured</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To save mankind from the sway of the sword,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name that calls on the world to share</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the burden of sacrificial strife</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When the cause at stake is the world's free life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the rule of the people everywhere,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name like a vow, a name like a prayer.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> I give you <i>France</i>!</span></p> + +<p class="note">The Hague, September, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page387" id="page387" title="387"></a> +AMERICA'S PROSPERITY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In glittering flood has poured into thy chest;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along thy network rails of East and West;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy factories and forges never rest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But dost <i>thou</i> prosper? Better news I crave.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> O dearest country, is it well with thee</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Indeed, and is thy soul in health?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And thoughts that lift men up and make them free,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> These are prosperity and vital wealth!</span></p> + +<p class="note">The Hague, October 1, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page388" id="page388" title="388"></a> +THE GLORY OF SHIPS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The glory of ships is an old, old song,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> since the days when the sea-rovers ran,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In their open boats through the roaring surf,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> and the spread of the world began;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The glory of ships is a light on the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> and a star in the story of man.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> that conquered the Trojan shore,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> that brought great wealth to his door,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Twas little they knew, those ancient men,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> what would come of the sail and the oar.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Greek ships rescued the West from the East,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> when they harried the Persians home;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the Roman ships were the wings of strength</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> that bore up the empire, Rome;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the ships of Spain found a wide new world,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> far over the fields of foam.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page389" id="page389" title="389"></a> +<span class="i0">Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> that the ocean was not a bound,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> for treasure as yet unfound;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So the fearless ships fared forth to the search,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> in joy that the globe was round.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> they grew with the growth of their quest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They opened the secret doors of the East,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> and the golden gates of the West;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many a city of high renown</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> was proud of a ship on its crest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fleets of England and Holland and France</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> were at strife with each other and Spain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And battle and storm sent a myriad ships</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> to sleep in the depths of the main;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> and it filled up the fleets again.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> to a wonderful, vast array,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> into every harbor and bay;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now in the world-wide work of the ships</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> 'tis England that leads the way.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page390" id="page390" title="390"></a> +<span class="i0">O well for the leading that follows the law</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> of a common right on the sea!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But ill for the leader who tries to hold</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> what belongs to mankind in fee!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The way of the ships is an open way,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> and the ocean must ever be free!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember, O first of the maritime folk,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> how the rise of your greatness began.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> from the shame of a selfish ban;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the glory of ships is a light on the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> and a star in the story of man!</span></p> + +<p class="note">September 12, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page391" id="page391" title="391"></a> +MARE LIBERUM</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You dare to say with perjured lips,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“We fight to make the ocean free”?</span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>You</i>, whose black trail of butchered ships</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bestrews the bed of every sea</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where German submarines have wrought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their horrors! Have you never thought,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What you call freedom, men call piracy!</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where you have murdered, cry you down;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And seamen whom you would not save,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Weave now in weed-grown depths a crown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of shame for your imperious head,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A dark memorial of the dead</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Women and children whom you sent to drown.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page392" id="page392" title="392"></a> +III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, not till thieves are set to guard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The gold, and corsairs called to keep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And wolves to herd the helpless sheep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall men and women look to thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To safeguard law and freedom on the deep!</span></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In nobler breeds we put our trust:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The nations in whose sacred lore</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The “Ought” stands out above the “Must,”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And honor rules in peace and war.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With these we hold in soul and heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With these we choose our lot and part,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>London Times</i>, February 12, 1917.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page393" id="page393" title="393"></a> +“LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty, and smite!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page394" id="page394" title="394"></a> +<span class="i0">Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the warlords cease,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace.</span></p> + +<p class="note"><i>London Times</i>, April 12, 1917.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page395" id="page395" title="395"></a> +THE OXFORD THRUSHES</h3> + +<h4>February, 1917</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never thought again to hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Oxford thrushes singing clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Amid the February rain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their sweet, indomitable strain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A wintry vapor lightly spreads</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the trees, and round the beds</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where daffodil and jonquil sleep;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only the snowdrop wakes to weep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not springtime yet. Alas,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What dark, tempestuous days must pass,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till England's trial by battle cease,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And summer comes again with peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lofty halls, the tranquil towers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where Learning in untroubled hours</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Held her high court, serene in fame,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are lovely still, yet not the same.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The novices in fluttering gown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No longer fill the ancient town;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But fighting men in khaki drest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in the Schools the wounded rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page396" id="page396" title="396"></a> +<span class="i0">Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Full many a son of Oxford lies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And whispers from his warrior grave,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“I died to keep the faith you gave.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mother mourns, but does not fail,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her courage and her love prevail</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The promise of triumphant years.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your sweet indomitable strain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ye bring a word from God on high</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And voices in our hearts reply.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page397" id="page397" title="397"></a> +HOMEWARD BOUND</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Home, for my heart still calls me;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Home, through the danger zone;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Home, whatever befalls me,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I will sail again to my own!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wolves of the sea are hiding</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Closely along the way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Under the water biding</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Their moment to rend and slay.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Black is the eagle that brands them,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Black are their hearts as the nights</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Black is the hate that sends them</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To murder but not to fight.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flower of the German Culture,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Boast of the Kaiser's Marine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Choose for your emblem the vulture,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Cowardly, cruel, obscene!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Forth from her sheltered haven</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Our peaceful ship glides slow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Noiseless in flight as a raven,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Gray as a hoodie crow.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page398" id="page398" title="398"></a> +<span class="i0">She doubles and turns in her bearing,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Like a twisting plover she goes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The way of her westward faring</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Only the captain knows.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a lonely bay concealing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> She lingers for days, and slips</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At dusk from her covert, stealing</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thro' channels feared by the ships.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brave are the men, and steady,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Who guide her over the deep,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">British mariners, ready</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To face the sea-wolf's leap.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lord of the winds and waters,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Bring our ship to her mark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Safe from this game of hide-and-seek</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With murderers in the dark!</span></p> + +<p class="note">On the S.S. <i>Baltic</i>, May, 1917.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page399" id="page399" title="399"></a> +THE WINDS OF WAR-NEWS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The winds of war-news change and veer:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now westerly and full of cheer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now easterly, depressing, sour</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With tidings of the Teutons' power.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou, America, whose heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With brave Allies has taken part,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Be not a weathercock to change</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With these wild winds that shift and range.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Be thou a compass ever true,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through sullen clouds or skies of blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To that great star which rules the night,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The star of Liberty and Right.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lover of peace, oh set thy soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy strength, thy wealth, thy conscience whole,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To win the peace thine eyes foresee,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The triumph of Democracy.</span></p> + +<p class="note">December 19, 1917.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page400" id="page400" title="400"></a> +RIGHTEOUS WRATH</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There are many kinds of anger, as many kinds of fire;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And some are fierce and fatal with murderous desire;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And some are mean and craven, revengeful, sullen, slow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They hurt the man that holds them more than they hurt his foe.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet there is an anger that purifies the heart:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The anger of the better against the baser part,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against the false and wicked, against the tyrant's sword,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against the enemies of love, and all that hate the Lord.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O cleansing indignation, O flame of righteous wrath,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give me a soul to feel thee and follow in thy path!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Save me from selfish virtue, arm me for fearless fight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And give me strength to carry on, a soldier of the Right!</span></p> + +<p class="note">January, 1918.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page401" id="page401" title="401"></a> +THE PEACEFUL WARRIOR</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have no joy in strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Peace is my great desire;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet God forbid I lose my life</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through fear to face the fire.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A peaceful man must fight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For that which peace demands,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Freedom and faith, honor and right,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Defend with heart and hands.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell, my friendly books;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Farewell, ye woods and streams;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fate that calls me forward looks</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To a duty beyond dreams.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, better to be dead</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With a face turned to the sky,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than live beneath a slavish dread</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And serve a giant lie.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stand up, my heart, and strive</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For the things most dear to thee!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why should we care to be alive</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Unless the world is free?</span></p> + +<p class="note">May, 1918.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page402" id="page402" title="402"></a> +FROM GLORY UNTO GLORY</h3> + +<h4>AMERICAN FLAG SONG</h4> + +<h4>1776</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O dark the night and dim the day</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When first our flag arose;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It fluttered bravely in the fray</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To meet o'erwhelming foes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our fathers saw the splendor shine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> They dared and suffered all;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They won our freedom by the sign—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The holy sign, the radiant sign—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the stars that never fall.</span></p> + +<h4><i>Chorus</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> All hail to thee, Young Glory!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Among the flags of earth</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> We'll ne'er forget the story</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of thy heroic birth.</span></p> + +<h4>1861</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O wild the later storm that shook</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The pillars of the State,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When brother against brother took</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The final arms of fate.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But union lived and peace divine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Enfolded brothers all;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page403" id="page403" title="403"></a> +<span class="i0">The flag floats o'er them with the sign—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The loyal sign, the equal sign—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the stars that never fall.</span></p> + +<h4><i>Chorus</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> All hail to thee, Old Glory!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of thee our heart's desire</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Foretells a golden story,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For thou hast come through fire.</span></p> + +<h4>1917</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O fiercer than all wars before</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That raged on land or sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Giant Robber's world-wide war</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For the things that shall not be!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy sister banners hold the line;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To thee, dear flag, they call;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thou hast joined them with the sign—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The heavenly sign, the victor sign—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the stars that never fall.</span></p> + +<h4><i>Chorus</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> All hail to thee, New Glory!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> We follow thee unfurled</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To write the larger story</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of Freedom for the World.</span></p> + +<p class="note">September 4, 1918.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page404" id="page404" title="404"></a> +BRITAIN, FRANCE, AMERICA</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rough expanse of democratic sea</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Which parts the lands that live by liberty</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is no division; for their hearts are one.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To fight together till their cause is won.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For land and water let us make our pact,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And seal the solemn word with valiant act:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No continent is firm, no ocean pure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until on both the rights of man are sure.</span></p> + +<p class="note">April, 1917.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page405" id="page405" title="405"></a> +THE RED CROSS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sign of the Love Divine</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That bends to bear the load</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all who suffer, all who bleed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along life's thorny road:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sign of the Heart Humane,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That through the darkest fight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Would bring to wounded friend and foe</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A ministry of light:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O dear and holy sign,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lead onward like a star!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The armies of the just are thine,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And all we have and are.</span></p> + +<p class="note">October 20, 1918.</p> + +<p class="note">For the Red Cross Christmas Roll Call.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page406" id="page406" title="406"></a> +EASTER ROAD</h3> + +<h4>1918</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under the cloud of world-wide war,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While earth is drenched with sorrow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I have no heart for idle merrymaking,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or for the fashioning of glad raiment.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will retrace the divine footmarks,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On the Road of the first Easter.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down through the valley of utter darkness</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dripping with blood and tears;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the hill of the skull, the little hill of great anguish,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The ambuscade of Death.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into the no-man's-land of Hades</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bearing despatches of hope to spirits in prison,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mortally stricken and triumphant</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Went the faithful Captain of Salvation.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then upward, swiftly upward,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Victory, liberty, glory,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The feet that were wounded walked in the tranquil garden,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bathed in dew and the light of deathless dawn.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O my soul, my comrades, soldiers of freedom,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Follow the pathway of Easter, for there is no other,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page407" id="page407" title="407"></a> +<span class="i0">Follow it through to peace, yea, follow it fighting.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This Armageddon is not darker than Calvary.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The day will break when the Dragon is vanquished;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He that exalteth himself as God shall be cast down,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the Lords of war shall fall,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the long, long terror be ended,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Victory, justice, peace enduring!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They that die in this cause shall live forever,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And they that live shall never die,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They shall rejoice together in the Easter of a new world.</span></p> + +<p class="note">March 31, 1918.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page408" id="page408" title="408"></a> +AMERICA'S WELCOME HOME</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, gallantly they fared forth in khaki and in blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">America's crusading host of warriors bold and true;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They battled for the rights of man beside our brave Allies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now they're coming home to us with glory in their eyes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> <i>Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Our hearts are turning home again and there we long to be,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>In our beautiful big country beyond the ocean bars,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our boys have seen the Old World as none have seen before.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They know the grisly horror of the German gods of war:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The noble faith of Britain and the hero-heart of France,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The soul of Belgium's fortitude and Italy's romance.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They bore our country's great word across the rolling sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“America swears brotherhood with all the just and free.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They wrote that word victorious on fields of mortal strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many a valiant lad was proud to seal it with his life.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page409" id="page409" title="409"></a> +<span class="i0">Oh, welcome home in Heaven's peace, dear spirits of the dead!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And welcome home ye living sons America hath bred!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lords of war are beaten down, your glorious task is done;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You fought to make the whole world free, and the victory is won.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> <i>Now it's home again, and home again, our hearts are turning west,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Of all the lands beneath the sun America is best.</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>We're going home to our own folks, beyond the ocean bars,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i1"> <i>Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars.</i></span></p> + +<p class="note">November 11, 1918.</p> + +<p class="note">A sequel to “America For Me,” written in 1909. <a href="#page314">Page 314</a>.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page410" id="page410" title="410"></a> +THE SURRENDER OF THE GERMAN FLEET</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ship after ship, and every one with a high-resounding name,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the robber-nest of Heligoland the German war-fleet came;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not victory or death they sought, but a rendezvous of shame.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i5"> <i>Sing out, sing out,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>A joyful shout,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>Ye lovers of the sea!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>The “Kaiser” and the “Kaiserin,”</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>The “König” and the “Prinz,”</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>The potentates of piracy,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>Are coming to surrender,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>And the ocean shall be free.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They never dared the final fate of battle on the blue;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their sea-wolves murdered merchantmen and mocked the drowning crew;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They stained the wave with martyr-blood,—but we sent our transports through!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page411" id="page411" title="411"></a> +<span class="i0">What flags are these that dumbly droop from the gaff o' the mainmast tall?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The black of the Kaiser's iron cross, the red of the Empire's fall!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come down, come down, ye pirate flags. Yea, strike your colors all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Union Jack and the Tricolor and the Starry Flag o' the West</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall guard the fruit of Freedom's war and the victory confest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The flags of the brave and just and free shall rule on the ocean's breast.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i5"> <i>Sing out, sing out,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>A mighty shout,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>Ye lovers of the sea!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>The “Kaiser” and the “Kaiserin,”</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>The “König” and the “Prinz,”</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>The robber-lords of death and sin,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>Have come to their surrender,</i></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> <i>And the ocean shall be free!</i></span></p> + +<p class="note">November 20, 1918.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page412" id="page412" title="412"></a> +GOLDEN STARS</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was my lot of late to travel far</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through all America's domain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A willing, gray-haired servitor</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bearing the Fiery Cross of righteous war.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And everywhere, on mountain, vale and plain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In crowded street and lonely cottage door,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I saw the symbol of the bright blue star.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Millions of stars! Rejoice, dear land, rejoice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That God hath made thee great enough to give</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath thy starry flag unfurled</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A gift to all the world,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy living sons that Liberty might live.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It seems but yesterday they sallied forth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Boys of the east, the west, the south, the north,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">High-hearted, keen, with laughter and with song,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fearless of lurking danger on the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Eager to fight in Flanders or in France</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against the monstrous German wrong,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sure of victory!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brothers in soul with British and with French</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page413" id="page413" title="413"></a> +<span class="i0">They held their ground in many a bloody trench;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the swift word came—</span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Advance!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the top they went through waves of flame,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Confident, reckless, irresistible,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Real Americans,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their rush was never stayed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until the foe fell back, defeated and dismayed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O land that bore them, write upon thy roll</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of battles won</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To liberate the human soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Château Thierry and Saint Mihiel</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the fierce agony of the Argonne;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yea, count among thy little rivers, dear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Because of friends whose feet have trodden there,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Marne, the Meuse, and the Moselle.</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now the vile sword</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In Potsdam forged and bathed in hell,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is beaten down, the victory given</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To the sword forged in faith and bathed in heaven.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now home again our heroes come:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, welcome them with bugle and with drum,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ring bells, blow whistles, make a joyful noise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unto the Lord,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And welcome home our blue-star boys,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page414" id="page414" title="414"></a> +<span class="i0">Whose manhood has made known</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To all the world America,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unselfish, brave and free, the Great Republic,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who lives not to herself alone.</span></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But many a lad we hold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear in our heart of hearts</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is missing from the home-returning host.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, say not they are lost,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For they have found and given their life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In sacrificial strife:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their service stars have changed from blue to gold!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That sudden rapture took them far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet are they here with us to-day,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even as the heavenly stars we cannot see</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the bright veil of sunlight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shed their influence still</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On our vexed life, and promise peace</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From God to all men of good will.</span></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wreaths shall we entwine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For our dear boys to deck their holy shrine?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Mountain-laurel, morning-glory,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Goldenrod and asters blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Purple loosestrife, prince's-pine,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page415" id="page415" title="415"></a> +<span class="i1"> Wild-azalea, meadow-rue,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nodding-lilies, columbine,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All the native blooms that grew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In these fresh woods and pastures new,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wherein they loved to ramble and to play.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bring no exotic flowers:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">America was in their hearts,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And they are ours</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For ever and a day.</span></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O happy warriors, forgive the tear</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Falling from eyes that miss you:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forgive the word of grief from mother-lips</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That ne'er on earth shall kiss you;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hear only what our hearts would have you hear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Glory and praise and gratitude and pride</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the dear country in whose cause you died.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now you have run your race and won your prize,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Old age shall never burden you, the fears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And conflicts that beset our lingering years</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall never vex your souls in Paradise.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Immortal, young, and crowned with victory,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From life's long battle you have found release.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And He who died for all on Calvary</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has welcomed you, brave soldiers of the cross,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into eternal Peace.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page416" id="page416" title="416"></a> +VII</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, let us gird our loins and lift our load,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Companions who are left on life's rough road,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bravely take the way that we must tread</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To keep true faith with our beloved dead.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To conquer war they dared their lives to give,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To safeguard peace our hearts must learn to live.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Help us, dear God, our forward faith to hold!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We want a better world than that of old.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lead us on paths of high endeavor,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Toiling upward, climbing ever,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ready to suffer for the right,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until at last we gain a loftier height,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More worthy to behold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our guiding stars, our hero-stars of gold.</span></p> + +<p class="note">Ode for the Memorial Service,<br /> +Princeton University, December 15, 1918.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page417" id="page417" title="417"></a> +IN THE BLUE HEAVEN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the blue heaven the clouds will come and go,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Scudding before the gale, or drifting slow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As galleons becalmed in Sundown Bay:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And through the air the birds will wing their way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Soaring to far-off heights, or flapping low,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or darting like an arrow from the bow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the twilight comes the stars will show,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">One after one, their tranquil bright array</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> In the blue heaven.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ye who fearless flew to meet the foe,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Eagles of freedom,—nevermore, we know,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall we behold you floating far away.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet clouds and birds and every starry ray</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Will draw our heart to where your spirits glow</span><br /> +<span class="i8"> In the blue Heaven.</span></p> + +<p class="note">For the American Aviators who died in the war.</p> + +<p class="note">March, 1919.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page418" id="page418" title="418"></a> +A SHRINE IN THE PANTHEON</h3> + +<h4>FOR THE UNNAMED SOLDIERS WHO DIED IN FRANCE</h4> + +<p class="note"> +Universal approval has been accorded the proposal made in the +French Chamber that the ashes of an unnamed French soldier, fallen +for his country, shall be removed with solemn ceremony to the Pantheon. +In this way it is intended to honor by a symbolic ceremony the memory +of all who lie in unmarked graves. +</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here the great heart of France,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Victor in noble strife,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Doth consecrate a Poilu's tomb</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To those who saved her life!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brave son without a name,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your country calls you home,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To rest among her heirs of fame,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Beneath the Pantheon's dome!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now from the height of Heaven,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The souls of heroes look;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their names, ungraven on this stone,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Are written in God's book.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Women of France, who mourn</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your dead in unmarked ground,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come hither! Here the man you loved</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In the heart of France is found!</span></p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page419" id="page419" title="419"></a> +IN PRAISE OF POETS</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page420" id="page420" title="420"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page421" id="page421" title="421"></a> +MOTHER EARTH</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the field,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mother of all the manifold forms of life, deep-bosomed, patient, impassive,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silent brooder and nurse of lyrical joys and sorrows!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of thee, yea, surely out of the fertile depth below thy breast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Issued in some strange way, thou lying motionless, voiceless,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All these songs of nature, rhythmical, passionate, yearning.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Coming in music from earth, but not unto earth returning.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dust are the blood-red hearts that beat in time to these measures,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou hast taken them back to thyself, secretly, irresistibly</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Drawing the crimson currents of life down, down, down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Deep into thy bosom again, as a river is lost in the sand.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the souls of the singers have entered into the songs that revealed them,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Passionate songs, immortal songs of joy and grief and love and longing,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page422" id="page422" title="422"></a> +<span class="i0">Floating from heart to heart of thy children, they echo above thee:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Do they not utter thy heart, the voices of those that love thee?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long hadst thou lain like a queen transformed by some old enchantment</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into an alien shape, mysterious, beautiful, speechless,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Knowing not who thou wert, till the touch of thy Lord and Lover</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wakened the man-child within thee to tell thy secret.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All of thy flowers and birds and forests and flowing waters</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are but the rhythmical forms to reveal the life of the spirit;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou thyself, earth-mother, in mountain and meadow and ocean,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Holdest the poem of God, eternal thought and emotion.</span></p> + +<p class="note">December, 1905.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page423" id="page423" title="423"></a> +MILTON</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lover of beauty, walking on the height</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of pure philosophy and tranquil song;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Born to behold the visions that belong</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To those who dwell in melody and light;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Milton, thou spirit delicate and bright!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> What drew thee down to join the Roundhead throng</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of iron-sided warriors, rude and strong,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fighting for freedom in a world half night?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lover of Liberty at heart wast thou,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Above all beauty bright, all music clear:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To thee she bared her bosom and her brow,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Breathing her virgin promise in thine ear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bound thee to her with a double vow,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Exquisite Puritan, grave Cavalier!</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cause, the cause for which thy soul resigned</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Her singing robes to battle on the plain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Was won, O poet, and was lost again;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lost the labour of thy lonely mind</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On weary tasks of prose. What wilt thou find</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To comfort thee for all the toil and pain?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> What solace, now thy sacrifice is vain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thou art left forsaken, poor, and blind?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page424" id="page424" title="424"></a> +<span class="i0">Like organ-music comes the deep reply:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “The cause of truth looks lost, but shall be won.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For God hath given to mine inward eye</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Vision of England soaring to the sun.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And granted me great peace before I die,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In thoughts of lowly duty bravely done.”</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O bend again above thine organ-board,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thou blind old poet longing for repose!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy Master claims thy service not with those</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who only stand and wait for His reward;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He pours the heavenly gift of song restored</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into thy breast, and bids thee nobly close</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A noble life, with poetry that flows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In mighty music of the major chord.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where hast thou learned this deep, majestic strain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Surpassing all thy youthful lyric grace,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To sing of Paradise? Ah, not in vain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The griefs that won at Dante's side thy place,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And made thee, Milton, by thy years of pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The loftiest poet of the English race!</span></p> + +<p class="note">1908.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page425" id="page425" title="425"></a> +WORDSWORTH</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Among the mountains, and thy song is fed</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> By living springs far up the watershed;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No whirling flood nor parching drought controls</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The crystal current: even on the shoals</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> It murmurs clear and sweet; and when its bed</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Deepens below mysterious cliffs of dread,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy voice of peace grows deeper in our souls.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou in youth hast known the breaking stress</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of passion, and hast trod despair's dry ground</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Beneath black thoughts that wither and destroy.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, wanderer, led by human tenderness</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Home to the heart of Nature, thou hast found</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The hidden Fountain of Recovered Joy.</span></p> + +<p class="note">October, 1906.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page426" id="page426" title="426"></a> +KEATS</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The melancholy gift Aurora gained</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From Jove, that her sad lover should not see</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The face of death, no goddess asked for thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My Keats! But when the scarlet blood-drop stained</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy pillow, thou didst read the fate ordained,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Brief life, wild love, a flight of poesy!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And then,—a shadow fell on Italy:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy star went down before its brightness waned.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet thou hast won the gift Tithonus missed:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Never to feel the pain of growing old,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Nor lose the blissful sight of beauty's truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But with the ardent lips Urania kissed</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To breathe thy song, and, ere thy heart grew cold,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Become the Poet of Immortal Youth.</span></p> + +<p class="note">August, 1906.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page427" id="page427" title="427"></a> +SHELLEY</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Knight-errant of the Never-ending Quest,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And Minstrel of the Unfulfilled Desire;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For ever tuning thy frail earthly lyre</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To some unearthly music, and possessed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With painful passionate longing to invest</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The golden dream of Love's immortal fire</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With mortal robes of beautiful attire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And fold perfection to thy throbbing breast!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What wonder, Shelley, that the restless wave</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Should claim thee and the leaping flame consume</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thy drifted form on Viareggio's beach?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These were thine elements,—thy fitting grave.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But still thy soul rides on with fiery plume,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thy wild song rings in ocean's yearning speech!</span></p> + +<p class="note">August, 1906.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page428" id="page428" title="428"></a> +ROBERT BROWNING</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How blind the toil that burrows like the mole,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In winding graveyard pathways underground,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For Browning's lineage! What if men have found</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Poor footmen or rich merchants on the roll</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of his forbears? Did they beget his soul?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nay, for he came of ancestry renowned</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through all the world,—the poets laurel-crowned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With wreaths from which the autumn takes no toll.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blazons on his coat-of-arms are these:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The flaming sign of Shelley's heart on fire,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The golden globe of Shakespeare's human stage,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The staff and scrip of Chaucer's pilgrimage,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The rose of Dante's deep, divine desire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tragic mask of wise Euripides.</span></p> + +<p class="note">November, 1906.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page429" id="page429" title="429"></a> +TENNYSON</h3> + +<h4>In Lucem Transitus, October, 1892</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendours of the moon,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To the singing tides of heaven, and the light more clear than noon,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God in tune.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, true to art;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lover of Immortal Love, uplifter of the human heart;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, if thou depart?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Silence here—for love is silent, gazing on the lessening sail;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silence here—for grief is voiceless when the mighty minstrels fail;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silence here—but far beyond us, many voices crying, Hail!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page430" id="page430" title="430"></a> +“IN MEMORIAM”</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The record of a faith sublime,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And hope, through clouds, far-off discerned;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The incense of a love that burned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through pain and doubt defying Time:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The story of a soul at strife</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That learned at last to kiss the rod,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And passed through sorrow up to God,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From living to a higher life:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A light that gleams across the wave</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of darkness, down the rolling years,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Piercing the heavy mist of tears—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A rainbow shining o'er a grave.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page431" id="page431" title="431"></a> +VICTOR HUGO</h3> + +<h4>1802-1902</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Heart of France for a hundred years,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Passionate, sensitive, proud, and strong,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Quick to throb with her hopes and fears,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fierce to flame with her sense of wrong!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You, who hailed with a morning song</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dream-light gilding a throne of old:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You, who turned when the dream grew cold,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Singing still, to the light that shone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pure from Liberty's ancient throne,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Over the human throng!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You, who dared in the dark eclipse,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When the pygmy heir of a giant name</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Dimmed the face of the land with shame,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Speak the truth with indignant lips,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Call him little whom men called great,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Scoff at him, scorn him, deny him,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Point to the blood on his robe of state,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Fling back his bribes and defy him!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You, who fronted the waves of fate</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As you faced the sea from your island home,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Exiled, yet with a soul elate,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Sending songs o'er the rolling foam,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bidding the heart of man to wait</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For the day when all should see</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page432" id="page432" title="432"></a> +<span class="i1"> Floods of wrath from the frowning skies</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fall on an Empire founded in lies,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And France again be free!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You, who came in the Terrible Year</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Swiftly back to your broken land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now to your heart a thousand times more dear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Prayed for her, sung to her, fought for her,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Patiently, fervently wrought for her,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Till once again,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> After the storm of fear and pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">High in the heavens the star of France stood clear!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> You, who knew that a man must take</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Good and ill with a steadfast soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Holding fast, while the billows roll</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Over his head, to the things that make</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Life worth living for great and small,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Honour and pity and truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The heart and the hope of youth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the good God over all!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> You, to whom work was rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Dauntless Toiler of the Sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Following ever the joyful quest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of beauty on the shores of old Romance,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Bard of the poor of France,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And warrior-priest of world-wide charity!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> You who loved little children best</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of all the poets that ever sung,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page433" id="page433" title="433"></a> +<span class="i3"> Great heart, golden heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Old, and yet ever young,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Minstrel of liberty,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lover of all free, winged things,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Now at last you are free,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Your soul has its wings!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Heart of France for a hundred years,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Floating far in the light that never fails you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over the turmoil of mortal hopes and fears</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Victor, forever victor, the whole world hails you!</span></p> + +<p class="note">March, 1902.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page434" id="page434" title="434"></a> +LONGFELLOW</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour and riches and confusion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where there were many running to and fro, and shouting, and striving together,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the midst of the hurry and the troubled noise, I heard the voice of one singing.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“What are you doing there, O man, singing quietly amid all this tumult?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This is the time for new inventions, mighty shoutings, and blowings of the trumpet.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But he answered, “I am only shepherding my sheep with music.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So he went along his chosen way, keeping his little flock around him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And he paused to listen, now and then, beside the antique fountains,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where the faces of forgotten gods were refreshed with musically falling waters;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or he sat for a while at the blacksmith's door, and heard the cling-clang of the anvils;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or he rested beneath old steeples full of bells, that showered their chimes upon him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or he walked along the border of the sea, drinking in the long roar of the billows;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page435" id="page435" title="435"></a> +<span class="i0">Or he sunned himself in the pine-scented shipyard, amid the tattoo of the mallets;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or he leaned on the rail of the bridge, letting his thoughts flow with the whispering river;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He hearkened also to ancient tales, and made them young again with his singing.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then a flaming arrow of death fell on his flock, and pierced the heart of his dearest!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silent the music now, as the shepherd entered the mystical temple of sorrow:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Long he tarried in darkness there: but when he came out he was singing.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I saw the faces of men and women and children silently turning toward him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The youth setting out on the journey of life, and the old man waiting beside the last mile-stone;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The toiler sweating beneath his load; and the happy mother rocking her cradle;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lonely sailor on far-off seas; and the gray-minded scholar in his book-room;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The mill-hand bound to a clacking machine; and the hunter in the forest;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the solitary soul hiding friendless in the wilderness of the city;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page436" id="page436" title="436"></a> +<span class="i0">Many human faces, full of care and longing, were drawn irresistibly toward him,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the charm of something known to every heart, yet very strange and lovely,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And at the sound of his singing wonderfully all their faces were lightened.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Why do you listen, O you people, to this old and world-worn music?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This is not for you, in the splendour of a new age, in the democratic triumph!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Listen to the clashing cymbals, the big drums, the brazen trumpets of your poets.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But the people made no answer, following in their hearts the simpler music:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For it seemed to them, noise-weary, nothing could be better worth the hearing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than the melodies which brought sweet order into life's confusion.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So the shepherd sang his way along, until he came unto a mountain:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I know not surely whether the mountain was called Parnassus,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But he climbed it out of sight, and still I heard the voice of one singing.</span></p> + +<p class="note">January, 1907.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page437" id="page437" title="437"></a> +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>BIRTHDAY VERSES, 1906</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Have brought another <i>Festa</i> round to you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You can't refuse a loving-cup of praise</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> From friends the fleeting years have bound to you.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here come your Marjorie Daw, your dear Bad Boy,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Prudence, and Judith the Bethulian,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many more, to wish you birthday joy,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And sunny hours, and sky cerulean!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your children all, they hurry to your den,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With wreaths of honour they have won for you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To merry-make your threescore years and ten.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You, old? Why, life has just begun for you!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There's many a reader whom your silver songs</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And crystal stories cheer in loneliness.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What though the newer writers come in throngs?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You're sure to keep your charm of only-ness.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page438" id="page438" title="438"></a> +<span class="i0">You do your work with careful, loving touch,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> An artist to the very core of you,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You know the magic spell of “not-too-much”:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> We read,—and wish that there was more of you.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And more there is: for while we love your books</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Because their subtle skill is part of you;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We love <i>you</i> better, for our friendship looks</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Behind them to the human heart of you.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>MEMORIAL SONNET, 1908</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the house where little Aldrich read</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The early pages of Life's wonder-book</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With boyish pleasure: in this ingle-nook</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He watched the drift-wood fire of Fancy shed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bright colour on the pictures blue and red:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Boy-like he skipped the longer words, and took</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> His happy way, with searching, dreamful look</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the deeper things more simply said.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then, came his turn to write: and still the flame</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of Fancy played through all the tales he told,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And still he won the laurelled poet's fame</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With simple words wrought into rhymes of gold.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look, here's the face to which this house is frame,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A man too wise to let his heart grow old!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page439" id="page439" title="439"></a> +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN</h3> + +<h4>(Read at His Funeral, January 21, 1908)</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, quick to feel the lightest touch</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of beauty or of truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rich in the thoughtfulness of age,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The hopefulness of youth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The courage of the gentle heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The wisdom of the pure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The strength of finely tempered souls</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To labour and endure!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The blue of springtime in your eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Was never quenched by pain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And winter brought your head the crown</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of snow without a stain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The poet's mind, the prince's heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You kept until the end,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor ever faltered in your work,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Nor ever failed a friend.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page440" id="page440" title="440"></a> +<span class="i0">You followed, through the quest of life,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The light that shines above</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tumult and the toil of men,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And shows us what to love.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Right loyal to the best you knew,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Reality or dream,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You ran the race, you fought the fight,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A follower of the Gleam.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We lay upon your folded hands</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The wreath of asphodel;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We speak above your peaceful face</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The tender word <i>Farewell!</i></span><br /> +<span class="i0">For well you fare, in God's good care,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Somewhere within the blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And know, to-day, your dearest dreams</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Are true,—and true,—and true!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page441" id="page441" title="441"></a> +TO JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY</h3> + +<h4>ON HIS “BOOK OF JOYOUS CHILDREN”</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Joyous children delight to play there;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Weary men find rest in its bowers,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Watching the lingering light of day there.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old-time tunes and young love-laughter</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ripple and run among the roses;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Memory's echoes, murmuring after,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Fill the dusk when the long day closes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Simple songs with a cadence olden—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> These you learned in the Forest of Arden:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Friendly flowers with hearts all golden—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> These you borrowed from Eden's garden.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the reason why all men love you;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Truth to life is the finest art:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Other poets may soar above you—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> You keep close to the human heart.</span></p> + +<p class="note">December, 1903.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page442" id="page442" title="442"></a> +RICHARD WATSON GILDER</h3> + +<h4>IN MEMORIAM</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soul of a soldier in a poet's frame,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Heart of a hero in a body frail;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Thine was the courage clear that did not quail</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before the giant champions of shame</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who wrought dishonour to the city's name;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And thine the vision of the Holy Grail</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of Love, revealed through Music's lucid veil,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Filling thy life with heavenly song and flame.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pure was the light that lit thy glowing eye,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And strong the faith that held thy simple creed.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Ah, poet, patriot, friend, to serve our need</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou leavest two great gifts that will not die:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above the city's noise, thy lyric cry,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Amid the city's strife, thy noble deed.</span></p> + +<p class="note">November, 1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page443" id="page443" title="443"></a> +THE VALLEY OF VAIN VERSES</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The grief that is but feigning,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And weeps melodious tears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of delicate complaining</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From self-indulgent years;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The mirth that is but madness,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And has no inward gladness</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath its laughter straining,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To capture thoughtless ears;</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The love that is but passion</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of amber-scented lust;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The doubt that is but fashion;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The faith that has no trust;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These Thamyris disperses,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the Valley of Vain Verses</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Below the Mount Parnassian,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And they crumble into dust.</span></p> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page444" id="page444" title="444"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page445" id="page445" title="445"></a> +MUSIC</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page446" id="page446" title="446"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page447" id="page447" title="447"></a> +MUSIC</h3> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>PRELUDE</h4> + +<h4>1</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that wild night</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Into a single cry, and thou wast born!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Invisible enchantress of the heart;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Mistress of charms that bring relief</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To sorrow, and to joy impart</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A heavenly tone that keeps it undefined,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Thou art the child</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of Amor, and by right divine</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> A throne of love is thine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou flower-folded, golden-girdled, star-crowned Queen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose bridal beauty mortal eyes have never seen!</span></p> + +<h4>2</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> While peace and joy lie hidden in its deeps,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In healing murmurs round the weary soul.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page448" id="page448" title="448"></a> +<span class="i2"> Ah, when wilt thou draw near,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thou messenger of mercy robed in song?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> My lonely heart has listened for thee long;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And now I seem to hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Across the crowded market-place of life,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above unmeaning noises and unruly strife.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In quiet cadence, sweet and slow,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Serenely pacing to and fro,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thy far-off steps are magical and dear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Ah, turn this way, come close and speak to me!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee.</span></p> + +<h4>II</h4> + +<h4>INVOCATION</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Where wilt thou lead me first?</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In what still region</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Of thy domain,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Whose provinces are legion,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Wilt thou restore me to myself again,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And quench my heart's long thirst?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I pray thee lay thy golden girdle down,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And put away thy starry crown:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> For one dear restful hour</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Assume a state more mild.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Clad only in thy blossom-broidered gown</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page449" id="page449" title="449"></a> +<span class="i0">That breathes familiar scent of many a flower,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Take the low path that leads through pastures green;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And though thou art a Queen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Be Rosamund awhile, and in thy bower,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By tranquil love and simple joy beguiled,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sing to my soul, as mother to her child.</span></p> + +<h4>III</h4> + +<h4>PLAY SONG</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> O lead me by the hand,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And let my heart have rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bring me back to childhood land,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To find again the long-lost band</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of playmates blithe and blest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Some quaint, old-fashioned air,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That all the children knew,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall run before us everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a little maid with flying hair,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To guide the merry crew.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Along the garden ways</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> We chase the light-foot tune,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And in and out the flowery maze,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With eager haste and fond delays,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In pleasant paths of June.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page450" id="page450" title="450"></a> +<span class="i1"> For us the fields are new,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For us the woods are rife</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With fairy secrets, deep and true,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And heaven is but a tent of blue</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Above the game of life.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> The world is far away:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The fever and the fret,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all that makes the heart grow gray,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is out of sight and far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear Music, while I hear thee play</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That olden, golden roundelay,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “Remember and forget!”</span></p> + +<h4>IV</h4> + +<h4>SLEEP SONG</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"> Forget, forget!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The tide of life is turning;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The waves of light ebb slowly down the west:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Along the edge of dark some stars are burning</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To guide thy spirit safely to an isle of rest.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> A little rocking on the tranquil deep</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of song, to soothe thy yearning,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> A little slumber and a little sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And so, forget, forget!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page451" id="page451" title="451"></a> +<span class="i6"> Forget, forget,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The day was long in pleasure;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Its echoes die away across the hill;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Now let thy heart beat time to their slow measure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That swells, and sinks, and faints, and falls, till all is still.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Then, like a weary child that loves to keep</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Locked in its arms some treasure,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Thy soul in calm content shall fall asleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And so forget, forget.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"> Forget, forget,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And if thou hast been weeping,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Let go the thoughts that bind thee to thy grief:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Lie still, and watch the singing angels, reaping</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The golden harvest of thy sorrow, sheaf by sheaf;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Or count thy joys like flocks of snow-white sheep</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> That one by one come creeping</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Into the quiet fold, until thou sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And so forget, forget!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"> Forget, forget,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Thou art a child and knowest</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> So little of thy life! But music tells</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The secret of the world through which thou goest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To work with morning song, to rest with evening bells:</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Life is in tune with harmony so deep</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> That when the notes are lowest</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Thou still canst lay thee down in peace and sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> For God will not forget.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page452" id="page452" title="452"></a> +V</h4> + +<h4>HUNTING SONG</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of the garden of playtime, out of the bower of rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fain would I follow at daytime, music that calls to a quest.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Hark, how the galloping measure</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Quickens the pulses of pleasure;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Gaily saluting the morn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With the long, clear note of the hunting-horn,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Echoing up from the valley,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Over the mountain side,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Rally, you hunters, rally,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Rally, and ride!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Drink of the magical potion music has mixed with her wine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Full of the madness of motion, joyful, exultant, divine!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Leave all your troubles behind you,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Ride where they never can find you,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Into the gladness of morn,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With the long, clear note of the hunting-horn,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Swiftly o'er hillock and hollow,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Sweeping along with the wind,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Follow, you hunters, follow,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Follow and find!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What will you reach with your riding? What is the charm of the chase?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Just the delight and the striding swing of the jubilant pace.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page453" id="page453" title="453"></a> +<span class="i3"> Danger is sweet when you front her,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In at the death, every hunter!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Now on the breeze the mort is borne</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the long, clear note of the hunting-horn,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Winding merrily, over and over,—</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Come, come, come!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Home again, Ranger! home again, Rover!</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Turn again, home!</span></p> + +<h4>VI</h4> + +<h4>DANCE-MUSIC</h4> + +<h4>1</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now let the sleep-tune blend with the play-tune,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Weaving the mystical spell of the dance;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lighten the deep tune, soften the gay tune,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mingle a tempo that turns in a trance.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Half of it sighing, half of it smiling,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Smoothly it swings, with a triplicate beat;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Calling, replying, yearning, beguiling,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wooing the heart and bewitching the feet.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Every drop of blood</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Rises with the flood,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Rocking on the waves of the strain;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Youth and beauty glide</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Turning with the tide—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Music making one out of twain,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page454" id="page454" title="454"></a> +<span class="i0">Bearing them away, and away, and away,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Like a tone and its terce—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till the chord dissolves, and the dancers stay,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And reverse.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Violins leading, take up the measure,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Turn with the tune again,—clarinets clear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Answer their pleading,—harps full of pleasure</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sprinkle their silver like light on the mere.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Semiquaver notes,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Merry little motes,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Tangled in the haze</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Of the lamp's golden rays,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Quiver everywhere</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> In the air,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Like a spray,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till the fuller stream of the might of the tune,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gliding like a dream in the light of the moon,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bears them all away, and away, and away,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Floating in the trance of the dance.</span></p> + +<h4>2</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then begins a measure stately,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Languid, slow, serene;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All the dancers move sedately,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Stepping leisurely and straitly,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With a courtly mien;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page455" id="page455" title="455"></a> +<span class="i0">Crossing hands and changing places,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Bowing low between,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the minuet inlaces</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Waving arms and woven paces,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Glittering damaskeen.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where is she whose form is folden</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In its royal sheen?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From our longing eyes withholden</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By her mystic girdle golden,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Beauty sought but never seen,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Music walks the maze, a queen.</span></p> + +<h4>VII</h4> + +<h4>WAR-MUSIC</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Break off! Dance no more!</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Danger is at the door.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Music is in arms.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> To signal war's alarms.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Hark, a sudden trumpet calling</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Over the hill!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Why are you calling, trumpet, calling?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> What is your will?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Men, men, men!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Men who are ready to fight</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For their country's life, and the right</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page456" id="page456" title="456"></a> +<span class="i1"> Of a liberty-loving land to be</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Free, free, free!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Free from a tyrant's chain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Free from dishonor's stain,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Free to guard and maintain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All that her fathers fought for,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> All that her sons have wrought for,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Resolute, brave, and free!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Call again, trumpet, call again,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Call up the men!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Do you hear the storm of cheers</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Mingled with the women's tears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Do you hear the throbbing drum</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> As the hosts of battle come</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Keeping time, time, time to its beat?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> O Music give a song</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To make their spirit strong</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the fury of the tempest they must meet.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> The hoarse roar</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of the monster guns;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the sharp bark</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of the lesser guns;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The whine of the shells,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The rifles' clatter</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page457" id="page457" title="457"></a> +<span class="i2"> Where the bullets patter,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The rattle, rattle, rattle</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of the mitrailleuse in battle,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the yells</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of the men who charge through hells</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Where the poison gas descends,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the bursting shrapnel rends</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Limb from limb</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> In the dim</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Chaos and clamor of the strife</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Where no man thinks of his life</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But only of fighting through,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Blindly fighting through, through!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> 'Tis done</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> At last!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The victory won,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The dissonance of warfare past!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> O Music mourn the dead</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Whose loyal blood was shed,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And sound the taps for every hero slain;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Then lead into the song</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> That made their spirit strong,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And tell the world they did not die in vain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The invincible flag that our fathers defended;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page458" id="page458" title="458"></a> +<span class="i1"> And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have sworn,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's horde,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But the banners of Liberty proudly shall wave</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> O'er the <i>world</i> of the free and the lands of the brave.</span></p> + +<p class="note">May, 1916.</p> + +<h4>VIII</h4> + +<h4>THE SYMPHONY</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Music, they do thee wrong who say thine art</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Is only to enchant the sense.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For every timid motion of the heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And every passion too intense</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To bear the chain of the imperfect word,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And every tremulous longing, stirred</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By spirit winds that come we know not whence</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And go we know not where,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And every inarticulate prayer</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beating about the depths of pain or bliss,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Like some bewildered bird</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That seeks its nest but knows not where it is,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every dream that haunts, with dim delight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The drowsy hour between the day and night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The wakeful hour between the night and day,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Imprisoned, waits for thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Impatient, yearns for thee,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page459" id="page459" title="459"></a> +<span class="i1"> The queen who comes to set the captive free!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Thou lendest wings to grief to fly away,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And wings to joy to reach a heavenly height;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every dumb desire that storms within the breast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou leadest forth to sob or sing itself to rest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> All these are thine, and therefore love is thine.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> For love is joy and grief,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And trembling doubt, and certain-sure belief,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And fear, and hope, and longing unexpressed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In pain most human, and in rapture brief</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Almost divine.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Love would possess, yet deepens when denied;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And love would give, yet hungers to receive;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Love like a prince his triumph would achieve;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And like a miser in the dark his joys would hide.</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Love is most bold,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> He leads his dreams like armèd men in line;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Yet when the siege is set, and he must speak,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Calling the fortress to resign</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Its treasure, valiant love grows weak,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And hardly dares his purpose to unfold.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Less with his faltering lips than with his eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> He claims the longed-for prize:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Love fain would tell it all, yet leaves the best untold.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But thou shalt speak for love. Yea, thou shalt teach</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The mystery of measured tone,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> The Pentecostal speech</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page460" id="page460" title="460"></a> +<span class="i1"> That every listener heareth as his own.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For on thy head the cloven tongues of fire,—</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Diminished chords that quiver with desire,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And major chords that glow with perfect peace,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Have fallen from above;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And thou canst give release</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In music to the burdened heart of love.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Sound with the 'cellos' pleading, passionate strain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The yearning theme, and let the flute reply</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> In placid melody, while violins complain,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> And sob, and sigh,</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> With muted string;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Then let the oboe half-reluctant sing</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of bliss that trembles on the verge of pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> While 'cellos plead and plead again,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With throbbing notes delayed, that would impart</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To every urgent tone the beating of the heart.</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> So runs the andante, making plain</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The hopes and fears of love without a word.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Then comes the adagio, with a yielding theme</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Through which the violas flow soft as in a dream,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> While horns and mild bassoons are heard</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In tender tune, that seems to float</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Like an enchanted boat</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Upon the downward-gliding stream,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Toward the allegro's wide, bright sea</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Of dancing, glittering, blending tone,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page461" id="page461" title="461"></a> +<span class="i1"> Where every instrument is sounding free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And harps like wedding-chimes are rung, and trumpets blown</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Around the barque of love</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That rides, with smiling skies above,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> A royal galley, many-oared,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Into the happy harbour of the perfect chord.</span></p> + +<h4>IX</h4> + +<h4>IRIS</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"> Light to the eye and Music to the ear,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> These are the builders of the bridge that springs</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> From earth's dim shore of half-remembered things</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> To reach the heavenly sphere</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Where nothing silent is and nothing dark.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> So when I see the rainbow's arc</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Spanning the showery sky, far-off I hear</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Music, and every colour sings:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And while the symphony builds up its round</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Full sweep of architectural harmony</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Above the tide of Time, far, far away I see</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> A bow of colour in the bow of sound.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Red as the dawn the trumpet rings;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Blue as the sky, the choir of strings</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Darkens in double-bass to ocean's hue,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Rises in violins to noon-tide's blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With threads of quivering light shot through and through;</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page462" id="page462" title="462"></a> +<span class="i2"> Green as the mantle that the summer flings</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Around the world, the pastoral reeds in tune</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Embroider melodies of May and June.</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Purer than gold,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Yea, thrice-refinèd gold,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And richer than the treasures of the mine,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Floods of the human voice divine</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Along the arch in choral song are rolled.</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> So bends the bow complete:</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And radiant rapture flows</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Across the bridge, so full, so strong, so sweet,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That the uplifted spirit hardly knows</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Whether the Music-Light that glows</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Within the arch of tones and colours seven,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is sunset-peace of earth or sunrise-joy of Heaven.</span></p> + +<h4>X</h4> + +<h4>SEA AND SHORE</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Music, I yield to thee</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> As swimmer to the sea,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I give my spirit to the flood of song!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Bear me upon thy breast</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In rapture and at rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bathe me in pure delight and make me strong;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> From strife and struggle bring release,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And draw the waves of passion into tides of peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page463" id="page463" title="463"></a> +<span class="i3"> Remembered songs most dear</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In living songs I hear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While blending voices gently swing and sway,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In melodies of love,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Whose mighty currents move</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With singing near and singing far away;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Sweet in the glow of morning light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sweeter still across the starlit gulf of night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Music, in thee we float,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And lose the lonely note</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of self in thy celestial-ordered strain,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Until at last we find</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The life to love resigned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In harmony of joy restored again;</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And songs that cheered our mortal days</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Break on the shore of light in endless hymns of praise.</span></p> + +<p class="note">December, 1901—May, 1903—May, 1916.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page464" id="page464" title="464"></a> +MASTER OF MUSIC</h3> + +<h4>(In memory of Theodore Thomas, 1905)</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glory architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Living forever in temple and picture and statue and song,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look how the world with the lights that they lit is illumined and starred;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Brief was the flame of their life, but the lamps of their art burn long!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where is the Master of Music, and how has he vanished away?</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where is the work that he wrought with his wonderful art in the air?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gone,—it is gone like the glow on the cloud at the close of the day!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The Master has finished his work and the glory of music is—where?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page465" id="page465" title="465"></a> +<span class="i0">Once, at the wave of his wand, all the billows of musical sound</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Followed his will, as the sea was ruled by the prophet of old:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now that his hand is relaxed, and his rod has dropped to the ground,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Silent and dark are the shores where the marvellous harmonies rolled!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nay, but not silent the hearts that were filled by that life-giving sea;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Deeper and purer forever the tides of their being will roll,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Grateful and joyful, O Master, because they have listened to thee;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The glory of music endures in the depths of the human soul.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page466" id="page466" title="466"></a> +THE PIPES O' PAN</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great Nature had a million words,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In tongues of trees and songs of birds,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But none to breathe the heart of man,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till Music filled the pipes o' Pan.</span></p> + +<p class="note">1909.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page467" id="page467" title="467"></a> +TO A YOUNG GIRL SINGING</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, what do you know of the song, my dear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And how have you made it your own?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You have caught the turn of the melody clear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And you give it again with a golden tone,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Till the wonder-word and the wedded note</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Are flowing out of your beautiful throat</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> With a liquid charm for every ear:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And they talk of your art,—but for you alone</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The song is a thing, unheard, unknown;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> You only have learned it by rote.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when you have lived for awhile, my dear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> I think you will learn it anew!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For a joy will come, or a grief, or a fear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> That will alter the look of the world for you;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the lyric you learned as a bit of art,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Will wake to life as a wonderful part</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of the love you feel so deep and true;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And the thrill of a laugh or the throb of a tear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Will come with your song to all who hear;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For then you will know it by heart.</span></p> + +<p class="note">April, 1911.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page468" id="page468" title="468"></a> +THE OLD FLUTE</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The time will come when I no more can play</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This polished flute: the stops will not obey</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My gnarled fingers; and the air it weaves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In modulations, like a vine with leaves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Climbing around the tower of song, will die</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In rustling autumn rhythms, confused and dry.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My shortened breath no more will freely fill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This magic reed with melody at will;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My stiffened lips will try and try in vain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To wake the liquid, leaping, dancing strain;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The heavy notes will falter, wheeze, and faint,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or mock my ear with shrillness of complaint.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let me hang this faithful friend of mine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the trunk of some old, sacred pine,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sit beneath the green protecting boughs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To hear the viewless wind, that sings and soughs</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above me, play its wild, aerial lute,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And draw a ghost of music from my flute!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So will I thank the gods; and most of all</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Delian Apollo, whom men call</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The mighty master of immortal sound,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord of the billows in their chanting round,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord of the winds that fill the wood with sighs,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page469" id="page469" title="469"></a> +<span class="i0">Lord of the echoes and their sweet replies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord of the little people of the air</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That sprinkle drops of music everywhere,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lord of the sea of melody that laves</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The universe with never silent waves,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Him will I thank that this brief breath of mine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has caught one cadence of the song divine;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And these frail fingers learned to rise and fall</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In time with that great tune which throbs thro' all;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And these poor lips have lent a lilt of joy</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To songless men whom weary tasks employ!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My life has had its music, and my heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In harmony has borne a little part,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now I come with quiet, grateful breast</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To Death's dim hall of silence and of rest.</span></p> + +<p class="note">Freely rendered from the French of Auguste Angellier, 1911.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page470" id="page470" title="470"></a> +THE FIRST BIRD O' SPRING</h3> + +<h4>TO OLIVE WHEELER</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Winter on Mount Shasta,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">April down below;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Golden hours of glowing sun,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sudden showers of snow!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Under leafless thickets</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Early wild-flowers cling;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But, oh, my dear, I'm fain to hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The first bird o' Spring!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alders are in tassel,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Maples are in bud;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Waters of the blue McCloud</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shout in joyful flood;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the giant pine-trees</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flutters many a wing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But, oh, my dear, I long to hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The first bird o' Spring!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page471" id="page471" title="471"></a> +<span class="i0">Candle-light and fire-light</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mingle at “the Bend;”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Neath the roof of Bo-hai-pan</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Light and shadow blend.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweeter than a wood-thrush</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A maid begins to sing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And, oh, my dear, I'm glad to hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The first bird o' Spring!</span></p> + +<p class="note">The Bend, California, April 29, 1913.</p> + +<div class="play"> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page472" id="page472" title="472"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page473" id="page473" title="473"></a> +THE HOUSE OF RIMMON<br /><br /> +A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page474" id="page474" title="474"></a> +DRAMATIS PERSONÆ</h3> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td class="sc">Benhadad: </td><td> </td><td>King of Damascus.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Rezon: </td><td> </td><td>High Priest of the House of + Rimmon.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Saballidin:</td><td> </td><td>A Noble.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Hazael </td><td rowspan="3" class="brace">}</td> + <td rowspan="3">Courtiers.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Izdubhar </td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Rakhaz </td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Shumakim: </td><td> </td><td>The King's Fool.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Elisha: </td><td> </td><td>Prophet of Israel.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">NAAMAN: </td><td> </td><td>Captain of the Armies of + Damascus.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">RUAHMAH: </td><td> </td><td>A Captive Maid of Israel.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Tsarpi: </td><td> </td><td>Wife to Naaman.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Khamma </td><td rowspan="2" class="brace">}</td> + <td rowspan="2">Attendants of Tsarpi.</td></tr> +<tr><td class="sc">Nubta </td></tr> +</table> + +<p class="central">Soldiers, Servants, Citizens, etc., etc.</p> + +<p class="central"><span class="sc">Scene:</span> <i>Damascus and the Mountains of Samaria.</i></p> + +<p class="central"><span class="sc">Time:</span> 850 <i>B. C.</i></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page475" id="page475" title="475"></a> +ACT I</h3> + +<h4>Scene I</h4> + +<p class="sd"> +Night, in the garden of <em>Naaman</em> at Damascus. At the left +the palace, with softly gleaming lights and music coming +from the open latticed windows. The garden is full of +oleanders, roses, pomegranates, abundance of crimson +flowers; the air is heavy with their fragrance: a fountain +at the right is plashing gently: behind it is an arbour +covered with vines. Near the centre of the garden stands +a small, hideous image of the god Rimmon. Beyond +the arbour rises the lofty square tower of the House of +Rimmon, which casts a shadow from the moon across the +garden. The background is a wide, hilly landscape, with +the snow-clad summit of Mount Herman in the distance. +Enter by the palace door, the lady <em>Tsarpi</em>, robed in red +and gold, and followed by her maids, <em>Khamma</em> and <em>Nubta</em>. +She remains on the terrace: they go down into the garden, +looking about, and returning to her.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's no one here; the garden is asleep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The flowers are nodding, all the birds abed,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing awake except the watchful stars!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The stars are sentinels discreet and mute:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How many things they know and never tell!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page476" id="page476" title="476"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em> <strong>[</strong>Impatiently.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unlike the stars, how many things you tell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And do not know! When comes your master home?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lady, his armour-bearer brought us word,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At moonset, not before.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i8"> He haunts the camp</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And leaves me much alone; yet I can pass</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The time of absence not unhappily,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If I but know the time of his return.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An hour of moonlight yet! Khamma, my mirror!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These curls are ill arranged, this veil too low,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So,—that is better, careless maids! Withdraw,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But bring me word if Naaman appears!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mistress, have no concern; for when we hear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The clatter of his horse along the street,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll run this way and lead your dancers down</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With song and laughter,—you shall know in time.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exeunt <em>Khamma</em> and <em>Nubta</em> laughing, +<em>Tsarpi</em> descends the steps.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">My guest is late; but he will surely come!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The man who burns to drain the cup of love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The priest whose greed of glory never fails,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Both, both have need of me, and he will come.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I,—what do I need? Why everything</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page477" id="page477" title="477"></a> +<span class="i0">That helps my beauty to a higher throne;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All that a priest can promise, all a man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Can give, and all a god bestow, I need:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This may a woman win, and this will I.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Enter <em>Rezon</em> quietly +from the shadow of the trees. He stands behind <em>Tsarpi</em> +and listens, smiling, to her last words. Then he drops his mantle +of leopard-skin, and lifts his high priest's rod of bronze, +shaped at one end like a star.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tsarpi!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em> <strong>[</strong>Bowing low before him.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> The mistress of the house of Naaman</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Salutes the master of the House of Rimmon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rimmon receives you with his star of peace,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For you were once a handmaid of his altar.</span><br /> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>He lowers the star-point of the rod, +which glows for a moment with rosy light above her head.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">And now the keeper of his temple asks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The welcome of the woman for the man.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em> <strong>[</strong>Giving him her hand, but holding off his embrace.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">No more,—till I have heard what brings you here</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By night, within the garden of the one</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who scorns you most and fears you least in all</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Damascus.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Trust me, I repay his scorn</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page478" id="page478" title="478"></a> +<span class="i0">With double hatred,—Naaman, the man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who stands against the nobles and the priests,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This powerful fool, this impious devotee</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of liberty, who loves the people more</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than he reveres the city's ancient god:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This frigid husband who sets you below</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His dream of duty to a horde of slaves:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This man I hate, and I will humble him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I think I hate him too. He stands apart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From me, ev'n while he holds me in his arms,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By something that I cannot understand.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He swears he loves his wife next to his honour!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Next? That's too low! I will be first or nothing.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">With me you are the first, the absolute!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When you and I have triumphed you shall reign;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And you and I will bring this hero down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">But how? For he is strong.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> By this, the hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Tsarpi; and by this, the rod of Rimmon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your plan?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i6"> You know the host of Nineveh</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is marching now against us. Envoys come</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page479" id="page479" title="479"></a> +<span class="i0">To bid us yield before a hopeless war.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our king is weak: the nobles, being rich,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Would purchase peace to make them richer still:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only the people and the soldiers, led</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By Naaman, would fight for liberty.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Blind fools! To-day the envoys came to me,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And talked with me in secret. Promises,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Great promises! For every noble house</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That urges peace, a noble recompense:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The King, submissive, kept in royal state</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And splendour: most of all, honour and wealth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall crown the House of Rimmon, and his priest,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yea, and his priestess! For we two will rise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the city's fall. The common folk</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall suffer; Naaman shall sink with them</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In wreck; but I shall rise, and you shall rise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Above me! You shall climb, through incense-smoke,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And days of pomp, and nights of revelry,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unto the topmost room in Rimmon's tower,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The secret, lofty room, the couch of bliss,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the divine embraces of the god.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em> <strong>[</strong>Throwing out her arms in exultation.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">All, all I wish! What must I do for this?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Turn Naaman away from thoughts of war.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">But if I fail? His will is proof against</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lure of kisses and the wile of tears.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page480" id="page480" title="480"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where woman fails, woman and priest succeed.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before the King decides, he must consult</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The oracle of Rimmon. This my hands</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Prepare,—and you shall read the signs prepared</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In words of fear to melt the brazen heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Naaman.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i6"> But if it flame instead?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I know a way to quench that flame. The cup,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The parting cup your hand shall give to him!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What if the curse of Rimmon should infect</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That sacred wine with poison, secretly</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To work within his veins, week after week</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Corrupting all the currents of his blood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dimming his eyes, wasting his flesh? What then?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Would he prevail in war? Would he come back</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To glory, or to shame? What think you?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i19"> I?—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I do not think; I only do my part.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But can the gods bless this?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i15"> The gods can bless</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whatever they decree; their will makes right;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And this is for the glory of the House</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page481" id="page481" title="481"></a> +<span class="i0">Of Rimmon,—and for thee, my queen. Come, come!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The night grows dark: we'll perfect our alliance.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong><em>Rezon</em> draws her with him, +embracing her, through the shadows of the garden. <em>Ruahmah</em>, +who has been sleeping in the arbour, has been awakened during the dialogue, +and has been dimly visible in her white dress, behind the vines. +She parts them and comes out, pushing back her long, +dark hair from her temples.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What have I heard? O God, what shame is this</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Plotted beneath Thy pure and silent stars!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was it for this that I was brought away</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A captive from the hills of Israel</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To serve the heathen in a land of lies?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, treacherous, shameful priest! Ah, shameless wife</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of one too noble to suspect thy guilt!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The very greatness of his generous heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Betrays him to their hands. What can I do!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing,—a slave,—hated and mocked by all</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My fellow-slaves! O bitter prison-life!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I smother in this black, betraying air</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of lust and luxury; I faint beneath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The shadow of this House of Rimmon. God</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have mercy! Lead me out to Israel.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To Israel!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Music and laughter heard within the palace. +The doors fly open and a flood of men and women, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page482" id="page482" title="482"></a> +dancers, players, flushed with wine, dishevelled, pour down the steps, +<em>Khamma</em> and <em>Nubta</em> with them. They crown the image with roses +and dance around it. <em>Ruahmah</em> is discovered crouching beside the arbour. +They drag her out beside the image.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Look! Here's the Hebrew maid,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She's homesick; let us comfort her!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em> <strong>[</strong>They put their arms around her.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yes, dancing is the cure for homesickness.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll make her dance.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>She slips away.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i11"> I pray you, let me go!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I cannot dance, I do not know your measures.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then sing for us,—a song of Israel!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">How can I sing the songs of Israel</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this strange country? O my heart would break!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>A Servant:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">A stubborn and unfriendly maid! We'll whip her.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>They circle around her, +striking her with rose-branches; she sinks to her knees, +covering her face with her bare arms, which bleed.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Look, look! She kneels to Rimmon, she is tamed.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page483" id="page483" title="483"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Springing up and lifting her arms.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nay, not to this dumb idol, but to Him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who made Orion and the seven stars!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>All:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">She raves,—she mocks at Rimmon! Punish her!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fountain! Wash her blasphemy away!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>They push her toward the fountain, +laughing and shouting. In the open door of the palace <em>Naaman</em> appears, +dressed in blue and silver, bareheaded and unarmed. +He comes to the top of the steps and stands for a moment, +astonished and angry.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silence! What drunken rout is this? Begone,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ye barking dogs and mewing cats! Out, all!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Poor child, what have they done to thee?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exeunt all except <em>Ruahmah</em>, +who stands with her face covered by her hands. <em>Naaman</em> comes to her, +laying his hand on her shoulder.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Looking up in his face.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i21"> Nothing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My lord and master! They have harmed me not.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Touching her arm.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dost call this nothing?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> Since my lord is come!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I do not know thy face,—who art thou, child?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page484" id="page484" title="484"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The handmaid of thy wife.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> Whence comest thou?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy voice is like thy mistress, but thy looks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have something foreign. Tell thy name, thy land.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruahmah is my name, a captive maid,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The daughter of a prince in Israel,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where once, in olden days, I saw my lord</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ride through our highlands, when Samaria</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was allied with Damascus to defeat</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our common foe.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i8"> And thou rememberest this?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">As clear as yesterday! Master, I saw</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thee riding on a snow-white horse beside</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our king; and all we joyful little maids</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Strewed boughs of palm along the victors' way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For you had driven out the enemy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Broken; and both our lands were friends and free.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Sadly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Well, they are past, those noble days! The days</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When nations would imperil all to keep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their liberties, are only memories now.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The common cause is lost,—and thou art brought,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The captive of some mercenary raid,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page485" id="page485" title="485"></a> +<span class="i0">Some skirmish of a gold-begotten war,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To serve within my house. Dost thou fare well?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Master, thou seest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> Yes, I see! My child,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why do they hate thee so?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> I do not know,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unless because I will not bow to Rimmon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou needest not. I fear he is a god</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who pities not his people, will not save.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My heart is sick with doubt of him. But thou</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shalt hold thy faith,—I care not what it is,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Worship thy god; but keep thy spirit free.</span><br /> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>He takes the amulet from his neck +and gives it to her.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here, take this chain and wear it with my seal,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">None shall molest the maid who carries this.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou hast found favour in thy master's eyes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hast thou no other gift to ask of me?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Earnestly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">My lord, I do entreat thee not to go</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To-morrow to the council. Seek the King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And speak with him in secret; but avoid</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The audience-hall.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page486" id="page486" title="486"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> Why, what is this? Thy wits</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Are wandering. My honour is engaged</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To speak for war, to lead in war against</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Assyrian Bull and save Damascus.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>With confused earnestness.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then, lord, if thou must go, I pray thee speak,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I know not how,—but so that all must hear.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With magic of unanswerable words</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Persuade thy foes. Yet watch,—beware,—</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i21"> Of what?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Turning aside.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am entangled in my speech,—no light,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How shall I tell him? He will not believe.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O my dear lord, thine enemies are they</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of thine own house. I pray thee to beware,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beware,—of Rimmon!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> Child, thy words are wild:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy troubles have bewildered all thy brain.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Go, now, and fret no more; but sleep, and dream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Israel! For thou shalt see thy home</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the hills again.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> Master, good-night.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And may thy slumber be as sweet and deep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As if thou camped at snowy Hermon's foot,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page487" id="page487" title="487"></a> +<span class="i0">Amid the music of his waterfalls.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There friendly oak-trees bend their boughs above</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The weary head, pillowed on earth's kind breast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And unpolluted breezes lightly breathe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A song of sleep among the murmuring leaves.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There the big stars draw nearer, and the sun</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Looks forth serene, undimmed by city's mirk</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or smoke of idol-temples, to behold</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The waking wonder of the wide-spread world.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There life renews itself with every morn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In purest joy of living. May the Lord</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Deliver thee, dear master, from the nets</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Laid for thy feet, and lead thee out along</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The open path, beneath the open sky!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exit <em>Ruahmah</em>: +<em>Naaman</em> stands looking after her.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<h4>Scene II</h4> + +<p class="central"><span class="sc">Time:</span> <i>The following morning</i></p> + +<p class="sd"> +The audience-hall in <em>Benhadad's</em> palace. The sides of the +hall are lined with lofty columns: the back opens toward +the city, with descending steps: the House of Rimmon +with its high tower is seen in the background. The throne +is at the right in front: opposite is the royal door of entrance, +guarded by four tall sentinels. Enter at the rear +between the columns, <em>Rakhaz</em>, <em>Saballidin</em>, <em>Hazael</em>, +<em>Izdubhar</em>.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Izdubhar:</em> <strong>[</strong>An excited old man.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of +<a class="pagebreak" name="page488" id="page488" title="488"></a> +lentils. The people are foaming and bubbling +round and round like beans in the pottage.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Hazael:</em> <strong>[</strong>A lean, crafty man.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Fear is a hot fire.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em> <strong>[</strong>A fat, pompous man.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Well may they fear, for the Assyrians are not three +days distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout +to chop Damascus down like a pitcher of +spilt milk.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em> <strong>[</strong>Young and frank.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Cannot Naaman drive them back?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em> <strong>[</strong>Puffing and blowing.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Ho! Naaman? Where have you been living? +Naaman is a broken reed whose claws have been +cut. Build no hopes on that foundation, for it +will run away and leave you all adrift in the conflagration.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">He clatters like a windmill. What would he say, +Hazael?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Hazael:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Naaman can do nothing without the command of +the King; and the King fears to order the army +to march without the approval of the gods. The +High Priest is against it. The House of Rimmon +is for peace with Asshur.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Yes, and all the nobles are for peace. We are the +<a class="pagebreak" name="page489" id="page489" title="489"></a> +men whose wisdom lights the rudder that upholds +the chariot of state. Would we be rich if we +were not wise? Do we not know better than the +rabble what medicine will silence this fire that +threatens to drown us?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Izdubhar:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">But if the Assyrians come, we shall all perish; they +will despoil us all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Hazael:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Not us, my lord, only the common people. The +envoys have offered favourable terms to the priests, +and the nobles, and the King. No palace, no +temple, shall be plundered. Only the shops, and +the markets, and the houses of the multitude shall +be given up to the Bull. He will eat his supper +from the pot of lentils, not from our golden +plate.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Yes, and all who speak for peace in the council shall +be enriched; our heads shall be crowned with +seats of honour in the procession of the Assyrian +king. He needs wise counsellors to help him guide +the ship of empire onto the solid rock of prosperity. +You must be with us, my lords Izdubhar and +Saballidin, and let the stars of your wisdom roar +loudly for peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Izdubhar:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">He talks like a tablet read upside down,—a wild ass +<a class="pagebreak" name="page490" id="page490" title="490"></a> +braying in the wilderness. Yet there is policy in +his words.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">I know not. Can a kingdom live without a people +or an army? If we let the Bull in to sup on the +lentils, will he not make his breakfast in our vineyards?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Enter other courtiers following <em>Shumakim</em>, +a hump-backed jester, in blue, green and red, +a wreath of poppies around his neck and a flagon in his hand. +He walks unsteadily, and stutters in his speech.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Hazael:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Here is Shumakim, the King's fool, with his legs full +of last night's wine.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em> <strong>[</strong>Balancing himself in front of them and chuckling.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Wrong, my lords, very wrong! This is not last +night's wine, but a draught the King's physician +gave me this morning for a cure. It sobers me +amazingly! I know you all, my lords: any fool +would know you. You, master, are a statesman; +and you are a politician; and you are a patriot.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Am I a statesman? I felt something of the kind +about me. But what is a statesman?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">A politician that is stuffed with big words; a fat +<a class="pagebreak" name="page491" id="page491" title="491"></a> +man in a mask; one that plays a solemn tune on +a sackbut full o' wind.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Hazael:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">And what is a politician?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">A statesman that has dropped his mask and cracked +his sackbut. Men trust him for what he is, and +he never deceives them, because he always lies.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Izdubhar:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Why do you call me a patriot?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Because you know what is good for you; you love +your country as you love your pelf. You feel for +the common people,—as the wolf feels for the +sheep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">And what am I?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">A fool, master, just a plain fool; and there is hope of +thee for that reason. Embrace me, brother, and +taste this; but not too much,—it will intoxicate +thee with sobriety.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>The hall has been slowly filling +with courtiers and soldiers; a crowd of people begin to come up the steps +at the rear, where they are halted by a chain guarded by servants of the palace. +A bell tolls; the royal door is thrown open; +the aged King totters across the hall and takes his seat on +<a class="pagebreak" name="page492" id="page492" title="492"></a> +the throne with the four tall sentinels standing behind him. +All bow down shading their eyes with their hands.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The hour of royal audience is come.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll hear the envoys. Are my counsellors</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At hand? Where are the priests of Rimmon's house?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Gongs sound. <em>Rezon</em> comes in from the side, +followed by a procession of priests in black and yellow. The courtiers bow; +the King rises; <em>Rezon</em> takes his stand on the steps of the throne +at the left of the King.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where is my faithful servant Naaman,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The captain of my host?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Trumpets sound from the city. +The crowd on the steps divide; the chain is lowered; <em>Naaman</em> enters, +followed by six soldiers. He is dressed in chain-mail with a silver helmet +and a cloak of blue. He uncovers, and kneels on the steps of the throne +at the King's right.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> My lord the King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The bearer of thy sword is here.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Giving <em>Naaman</em> his hand, and sitting down.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i17"> Welcome,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My strong right arm that never me failed yet!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am in doubt,—but stay thou close to me</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page493" id="page493" title="493"></a> +<span class="i0">While I decide this cause. Where are the envoys?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let them appear and give their message.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Enter the Assyrian envoys; +one in white and the other in red; both with the golden Bull's head +embroidered on their robes. They come from the right, rear, +bow slightly before the throne, and take the centre of the hall.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>White Envoy:</em> <strong>[</strong>Stepping forward.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Greeting from Shalmaneser, Asshur's son,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who rules the world from Nineveh,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unto Benhadad, monarch in Damascus!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The conquering Bull has led his army forth;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The south has fallen before him, and the west</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His feet have trodden; Hamath is laid waste;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He pauses at your gate, invincible,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To offer peace. The princes of your court,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The priests of Rimmon's house, and you, the King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If you pay homage to your Overlord,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall rest secure, and flourish as our friends.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Assyria sends to you this gilded yoke;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Receive it as the sign of proffered peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>He lays a yoke on the steps of the throne.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What of the city? Said your king no word</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of our Damascus, and the many folk</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That do inhabit her and make her great?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What of the soldiers who have fought for us?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page494" id="page494" title="494"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>White Envoy:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of these my royal master did not speak.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Strange silence! Must we give them up to him?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is this the price at which he offers us</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The yoke of peace? What if we do refuse?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Red Envoy:</em> <strong>[</strong>Stepping forward.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then ruthless war! War to the uttermost.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No quarter, no compassion, no escape!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Bull will gore and trample in his fury</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nobles and priests and king,—none shall be spared!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before the throne we lay our second gift;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This bloody horn, the symbol of red war.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>He lays a long bull's horn, stained with blood, +on the steps of the throne.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>White Envoy:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our message is delivered. We return</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unto our master. He will wait three days</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To know your royal choice between his gifts.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Keep which you will and send the other back.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>The <em>Envoys</em> retire, +amid confused murmurs of the people, the King silent, his head, +sunken on his breast.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We are not now that force which feared no foe:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page495" id="page495" title="495"></a> +<span class="i0">Our old allies have left us. Can we face the Bull</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel.</span><br /> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Many speak at once, confusedly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give me clear words and reasonable speech.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em> <strong>[</strong>Pompously.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">O King, I am a reasonable man!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And there be some who call me very wise</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And prudent; but of this I will not speak,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For I am also modest. Let me plead,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Persuade, and reason you to choose for peace.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This golden yoke may be a bitter draught,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But better far to fold it in our arms,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than risk our cargoes in the savage horn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of war. Shall we imperil all our wealth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our valuable lives? Nobles are few,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rich men are rare, and wise men rarer still;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The precious jewels on the tree of life,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wherein the common people are but bricks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And clay and rubble. Let the city go,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But save the corner-stones that float the ship!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have I not spoken well?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Shaking his head.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> Excellent well!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Most eloquent! But misty in the meaning.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Hazael:</em> <strong>[</strong>With cold decision.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then let me speak, O King, in plainer words!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The days of independent states are past:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page496" id="page496" title="496"></a> +<span class="i0">The tide of empire sweeps across the earth;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Assyria rides it with resistless power</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And thunders on to subjugate the world.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oppose her, and we fight with Destiny;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Submit to her demands, and we shall ride</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With her to victory. Therefore accept</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The golden yoke, Assyria's gift of peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Starting forward eagerly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is no peace beneath a conqueror's yoke!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For every state that barters liberty</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To win imperial favour, shall be drained</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of her best blood, henceforth, in endless wars</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make the empire greater. Here's the choice,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My King, we fight to keep our country free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or else we fight forevermore to help</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Assyria bind the world as we are bound.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am a soldier, and I know the hell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of war! But I will gladly ride through hell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To save Damascus. Master, bid me ride!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ten thousand chariots wait for your command;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And twenty thousand horsemen strain the leash</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of patience till you let them go; a throng</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of spearmen, archers, swordsmen, like the sea</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Chafing against a dike, roar for the onset!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O master, let me launch your mighty host</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Against the Bull,—we'll bring him to his knees!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Cries of “war!” from the soldiers +and the people; “peace!” from the courtiers and the priests. +<a class="pagebreak" name="page497" id="page497" title="497"></a> +The King rises, turning toward <em>Naaman</em>, and seems about to speak. +<em>Rezon</em> lifts his rod.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall not the gods decide when mortals doubt?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rimmon is master of the city's fate;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We read his will, by our most ancient-faith,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In omens and in signs of mystery.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Must we not hearken to his high commands?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Sinking back on the throne, submissively.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Consult the oracle. But who shall read?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tsarpi, the wife of Naaman, who served</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within the temple in her maiden years,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall be the mouth-piece of the mighty god,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To-day's high-priestess. Bring the sacrifice!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Gongs and cymbals sound: +enter priests carrying an altar on which a lamb is bound. +The altar is placed in the centre of the hall. <em>Tsarpi</em> follows the priests, +covered with a long transparent veil of black, sown with gold stars; +<em>Ruahmah</em>, in white, bears her train. +<em>Tsarpi</em> stands before the altar, facing it, +and lifts her right hand holding a knife. <em>Ruahmah</em> steps back, +near the throne, her hands crossed on her breast, her head bowed. +The priests close in around <em>Tsarpi</em> and the altar. +The knife is seen to strike downward. Gongs and cymbals sound: cries of “Rimmon, +<a class="pagebreak" name="page498" id="page498" title="498"></a> +hear us!” The circle of priests opens, +and <em>Tsarpi</em> turns slowly to face the King.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em> <strong>[</strong>Monotonously.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<i><span class="i0">Black is the blood of the victim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rimmon is unfavourable,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Asratu is unfavourable;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They will not war against Asshur,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They will make a league with the God of Nineveh.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Evil is in store for Damascus,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A strong enemy will lay waste the land.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Therefore make peace with the Bull;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hearken to the voice of Rimmon.</span></i></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>She turns again to the altar, +and the priests close in around her. <em>Rezon</em> lifts his rod +toward the tower of the temple. A flash of lightning followed by thunder; +smoke rises from the altar; all except <em>Naaman</em> and <em>Ruahmah</em> +cover their faces. The circle of priests opens again, +and <em>Tsarpi</em> comes forward slowly, chanting.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="song"><span class="sc">Chant:</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">Hear the words of Rimmon! Thus your Maker speaketh:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I, the god of thunder, riding on the whirlwind,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I, the god of lightning leaping from the storm-cloud,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will smite with vengeance him who dares defy me!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He who leads Damascus into war with Asshur,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Conquering or conquered, bears my curse upon him.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page499" id="page499" title="499"></a> +<span class="i0">Surely shall my arrow strike his heart in secret,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Burn his flesh with fever, turn his blood to poison.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brand him with corruption, drive him into darkness;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He shall surely perish by the doom of Rimmon.</span></i></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>All are terrified and look toward <em>Naaman</em>, +shuddering. <em>Ruahmah</em> alone seems not to heed the curse, +but stands with her eyes fixed on <em>Naaman</em>.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Be not afraid! There is a greater God</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall cover thee with His almighty wings:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath his shield and buckler shalt thou trust.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Repent, my son, thou must not brave this curse.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">My King, there is no curse as terrible</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As that which lights a bosom-fire for him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who gives away his honour, to prolong</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A craven life whose every breath is shame!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If I betray the men who follow me,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The city that has put her trust in me,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What king can shield me from my own deep scorn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What god release me from that self-made hell?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The tender mercies of Assyria</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give up Damascus, and her streets will run</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That mighty, labouring heart, wounded and crushed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath the brutal hooves of the wild Bull,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page500" id="page500" title="500"></a> +<span class="i0">Will cry against her captain, sitting safe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the nobles, in some pleasant place.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I shall be safe,—safe from the threatened wrath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of unknown gods, but damned forever by</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The men I know,—that is the curse I fear.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our heads before the sovereignties of heaven?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The unseen rulers are Divine.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i15"> O King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am unlearned in the lore of priests;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet well I know that there are hidden powers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">About us, working mortal weal and woe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beyond the force of mortals to control.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And if these powers appear in love and truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I think they must be gods, and worship them.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But if their secret will is manifest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That punish where no fault is found, and smite</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The poor with undeserved calamity,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And pierce the undefended in the dark</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With arrows of injustice, and foredoom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The innocent to burn in endless pain,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will not call this fierce almightiness</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Divine. Though I must bear, with every man,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The burden of my life ordained, I'll keep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My soul unterrified, and tread the path</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page501" id="page501" title="501"></a> +<span class="i0">Of truth and honour with a steady heart!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have ye not heard, my lords? The oracle</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of vengeance if I lead the army out.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Conquered or conquering!” I grip that chance!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Damascus free, her foes all beaten back,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The people saved from slavery, the King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upheld in honour on his ancient throne,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O what's the cost of this? I'll gladly pay</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whatever gods there be, whatever price</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They ask for this one victory. Give me</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This gilded sign of shame to carry back;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll shake it in the face of Asshur's king,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And break it on his teeth.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Rising.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then go, my never-beaten captain, go!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And may the powers that hear thy solemn vow</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forgive thy rashness for Damascus' sake,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em> <strong>[</strong>Standing beside the altar.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The pledge, O King, this man must seal his pledge</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At Rimmon's altar. He must take the cup</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of soldier-sacrament, and bind himself</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By thrice-performed libation to abide</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The fate he has invoked.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Slowly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> And so I will.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>He comes down the steps, toward the altar, where +<a class="pagebreak" name="page502" id="page502" title="502"></a> +<em>Rezon</em> is filling the cup which <em>Tsarpi</em> holds. +<em>Ruahmah</em> throws herself before <em>Naaman</em>, +clasping his knees.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Passionately and wildly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">My lord, I do beseech you, stay! There's death</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within that cup. It is an offering</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To devils. See, the wine blazes like fire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fulfilled of treachery and hate.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear master, noble master, touch it not!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But let me go! Here, treat her tenderly!</span><br /> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Gives her into the hands of <em>Saballidin</em>.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Can harm befall me from the wife who bears</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My name? I take the cup of fate from her.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I greet the unknown powers; <span><strong>[</strong>Pours libation.<strong>]</strong></span></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will perform my vow; <span><strong>[</strong>Again.<strong>]</strong></span></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will abide my fate; <span><strong>[</strong>Again.<strong>]</strong></span></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I pledge my life to keep Damascus free.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>He drains the cup, and lets it fall.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="central"><i>CURTAIN.</i></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page503" id="page503" title="503"></a> +ACT II</h3> + +<p class="central"><span class="sc">Time:</span> <i>A week later</i></p> + +<p class="sd"> +The fore-court of the House of Rimmon. At the back the +broad steps and double doors of the shrine; above them the +tower of the god, its summit invisible. Enter various +groups of citizens, talking, laughing, shouting: <em>Rakhaz</em>, +<em>Hazael</em>, <em>Shumakim</em> and others.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>First Citizen:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Great news, glorious news, the Assyrians are beaten!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Second Citizen:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Naaman is returning, crowned with victory. Glory +to our noble captain!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Third Citizen:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">No, he is killed. I had it from one of the camp-followers +who saw him fall at the head of the battle. +They are bringing his body to bury it with +honour. O sorrowful victory!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Peace, my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have +not been rightly informed, I will misinform you. +The accounts of Naaman's death are overdrawn. +He was killed, but his life has been preserved. One +of his wounds was mortal, but the other three were +curable, and by these the physicians have saved +him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page504" id="page504" title="504"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em> <strong>[</strong>Balancing himself before <em>Rakhaz</em> in pretended admiration.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, +and three curable, therefore he must recover as it +were, by three to one. Rakhaz, do you know that +you are a marvelous man?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rakhaz:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Too modest, for in knowing this you know more than +any other in Damascus!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Enter, from the right, +<em>Saballidin</em> in armour: from the left, <em>Tsarpi</em> with her attendants, +among whom is <em>Ruahmah</em>.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Hazael:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Here is Saballidin, we'll question him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He was enflamed by Naaman's wild words,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And rode with him to battle. Give us news,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of your great captain! Is he safe and well?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When will he come? Or will he come at all?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>All gather around him listening eagerly.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">He comes but now, returning from the field</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Three times he led the charge; three times he fell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet every wound was but a spur to urge</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His valour onward. In the last attack</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page505" id="page505" title="505"></a> +<span class="i0">He rode before us as the crested wave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That leads the flood; and lo, our enemies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Were broken like a dam of river-reeds.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The flying King encircled by his guard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was lodged like driftwood on a little hill.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then Naaman, who led our foremost band</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of whirlwind riders, hammered through the hedge</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Take back this gift,” he cried; and shattered it</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dissolved in universal rout; the King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His chariots and his horsemen fled away;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our captain stood the master of the field,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">First to the King, report of this great triumph.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Shouts of joy and applause.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Coming close to <em>Saballidin</em>.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">But what of him who won it? Fares he well?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My mistress would receive some word of him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hath she not heard?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> But one brief message came:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A letter saying, “We have fought and conquered,”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No word of his own person. Fares he well?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alas, most ill! For he is like a man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Consumed by some strange sickness: wasted, wan,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page506" id="page506" title="506"></a> +<span class="i0">His eyes are dimmed so that he scarce can see;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His ears are dulled; his fearless face is pale</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As one who walks to meet a certain doom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet will not flinch. It is most pitiful,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But you shall see.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> Yea, we shall see a man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who dared to face the wrath of evil powers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unknown, and hazard all to save his country.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Enter <em>Benhadad</em> with courtiers.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where is my faithful servant Naaman,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The captain of my host?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> My lord, he comes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Trumpet sounds. Enter company of soldiers in armour. +Then four soldiers bearing captured standards of Asshur. <em>Naaman</em> follows, +very pale, armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and guides himself by cords +from the standards on each side, but walks firmly. The doors of the temple open slightly, +and <em>Rezon</em> appears at the top of the steps. <em>Naaman</em> lets the cords fall, +and gropes his way for a few paces.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Kneeling.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> Where is my King?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Master, the bearer of thy sword returns.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The golden yoke thou gavest me I broke</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On him who sent it. Asshur's Bull hath fled</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page507" id="page507" title="507"></a> +<span class="i0">Dehorned. The standards of his host are thine!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Damascus is all thine, at peace, and free!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Holding out his arms.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou art a mighty man of valour! Come,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And let me fold thy courage to my heart.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em> <strong>[</strong>Lifting his rod.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forbear, O King! Stand back from him, all men!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the great name of Rimmon I proclaim</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This man a leper! See, upon his brow,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This little mark, the death-white seal of doom!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That tiny spot will spread, eating his flesh,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Gnawing his fingers bone from bone, until</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The impious heart that dared defy the gods</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dissolves in the slow death which now begins.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unclean! unclean! Henceforward he is dead:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No human hand shall touch him, and no home</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of men shall give him shelter. He shall walk</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only with corpses of the selfsame death</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Down the long path to a forgotten tomb.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Avoid, depart, I do adjure you all,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Leave him to god,—the leper Naaman!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>All shrink back horrified. +<em>Rezon</em> retires into the temple; the crowd melts away, wailing; +<em>Tsarpi</em> is among the first to go, followed by her attendants, +except <em>Ruahmah</em>, who crouches, with her face covered, +not far from <em>Naaman</em>.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Lingering and turning back.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Alas, my son! O Naaman, my son!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why did I let thee go? I must obey.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page508" id="page508" title="508"></a> +<span class="i0">Who can resist the gods? Yet none shall take</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy glorious title, captain of my host!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With guards of honour in a house of mine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Always. Damascus never shall forget</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What thou hast done! O miserable words</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of crowned impotence! O mockery of power</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Given to kings who cannot even defend</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their dearest from the secret wrath of heaven!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O Naaman, my son, my son! <span><strong>[</strong>Exit.<strong>]</strong></span></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Slowly passing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> Am I alone</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With thee, inexorable one, whose pride</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Offended takes this horrible revenge?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I must submit my mortal flesh to thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Almighty, but I will not call thee god!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet thou hast found the way to wound my soul</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Most deeply through the flesh; and I must find</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The way to let my wounded soul escape!</span><br /> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Drawing his sword.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come, my last friend, thou art more merciful</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than Rimmon. Why should I endure the doom</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He sends me? Irretrievably cut off</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all dear intercourse of human love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all the tender touch of human hands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From all brave comradeship with brother-men,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With eyes that see no faces through this dark,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page509" id="page509" title="509"></a> +<span class="i0">With ears that hear all voices far away,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why should I cling to misery, and grope</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My long, long way from pain to pain, alone?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>At his feet.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nay, not alone, dear lord, for I am here;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What voice is that? The silence of my tomb</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is broken by a ray of music,—whose?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Rising.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The one who loves thee best in all the world.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why that should be,—O dare I dream it true?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou com'st to hold me from the last disgrace,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The coward's flight into the dark. Go back</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While there is one alive on earth who loves us.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">My lord,—my lord,—O listen! You have erred,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You do mistake me now,—this dream—</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Though gods are cruel, a woman can be kind.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Grant me but this! For see,—I ask so little,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page510" id="page510" title="510"></a> +<span class="i0">Only to know that thou art faithful,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That thou art near me, though I touch thee not,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O this will hold me up, though it be given</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From pity more than love.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Trembling, and speaking slowly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> Not so, my lord!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My pity is a stream; my pride of thee</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My love for thee is like the sovereign moon</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Flow unto thee and follow after thee;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And where thou goest I will go; and where</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou diest I will die,—in the same hour.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>She lays her hand on his arm. He draws back.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">O touch me not! Thou shalt not share my doom.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Entreat me not to go. I will obey</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In all but this; but rob me not of this,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The only boon that makes life worth the living,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To walk beside thee day by day, and keep</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy foot from stumbling; to prepare thy food</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When thou art hungry, music for thy rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cheerful words to comfort thy black hour;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And so to lead thee ever on, and on,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through darkness, till we find the door of hope.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What word is that? The leper has no hope.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page511" id="page511" title="511"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dear lord, the mark upon thy brow is yet</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No broader than my little finger-nail.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy force is not abated, and thy step</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is firm. Wilt thou surrender to the enemy</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before thy strength is touched? Why, let me put</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A drop of courage from my breast in thine!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a hope for thee. The captive maid</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Israel who dwelt within thy house</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Knew of a god very compassionate,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Long-suffering, slow to anger, one who heals</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sick, hath pity on the fatherless,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And saves the poor and him who has no helper.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His prophet dwells nigh to Samaria;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I have heard that he hath brought the dead</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To life again. We'll go to him. The King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If I beseech him, will appoint a guard</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of thine own soldiers and Saballidin,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy friend, to convoy us upon our journey.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He'll give us royal letters to the King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Israel to make our welcome sure;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And we will take the open road, beneath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The open sky, to-morrow, and go on</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Together till we find the door of hope.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come, come with me!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>She grasps his hand.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Drawing back.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou must not touch me!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page512" id="page512" title="512"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Unclasping her girdle and putting the end in his hand.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> Take my girdle, then!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Kissing the clasp of the girdle.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I do begin to think there is a God,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Since love on earth can work such miracles!</span></p> + +<p class="central"><i>CURTAIN.</i></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page513" id="page513" title="513"></a> +ACT III</h3> + +<p class="central"><span class="sc">Time:</span> <i>A month later: dawn</i></p> + +<h4>Scene I</h4> + +<p class="sd"> +<em>Naaman's</em> tent, on high ground among the mountains near +Samaria: the city below. In the distance, a wide and +splendid landscape. <em>Saballidin</em> and soldiers on guard +below the tent. Enter <em>Ruahmah</em> in hunter's dress, with a +lute slung from her shoulder.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Peace and good health to you, Saballidin.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Good morrow to you all. How fares my lord?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The curtains of his tent are folded still:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They have not moved since we returned, last night,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And told him what befell us in the city.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Told him! Why did you make report to him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And not to me? Am I not captain here,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Intrusted by the King's command with care</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Naaman until he is restored?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Tis mine to know the first of good or ill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this adventure: mine to shield his heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From every arrow of adversity.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What have you told him? Speak!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page514" id="page514" title="514"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i16"> Lady, we feared</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To bring our news to you. For when the King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Israel had read our monarch's letter,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He rent his clothes, and cried, “Am I a god,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To kill and make alive, that I should heal</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A leper? Ye have come with false pretence,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Damascus seeks a quarrel with me. Go!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when we told our lord, he closed his tent,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And there remains enfolded in his grief.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I trust he sleeps; 'twere kind to let him sleep!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For now he doth forget his misery,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the burden of his hopeless woe</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is lifted from him by the gentle hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of slumber. Oh, to those bereft of hope</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sleep is the only blessing left,—the last</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Asylum of the weary, the one sign</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of pity from impenetrable heaven.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Waking is strife; sleep is the truce of God!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ah, lady, wake him not. The day will be</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Full long for him to suffer, and for us</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To turn our disappointed faces home</span><br /> +<span class="i0">On the long road by which we must return.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Return! Who gave you that command? Not I!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The King made me the leader of this quest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bound you all to follow me, because</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He knew I never would return without</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page515" id="page515" title="515"></a> +<span class="i0">The thing for which he sent us. I'll go on</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Day after day, unto the uttermost parts</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of earth, if need be, and beyond the gates</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of morning, till I find that which I seek,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">New life for Naaman. Are ye ashamed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To have a woman lead you? Then go back</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And tell the King, “This huntress went too far</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For us to follow: she pursues the trail</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of hope alone, refusing to forsake</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The quarry: we grew weary of the chase;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And so we left her and retraced our steps,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like faithless hounds, to sleep beside the fire.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Did Naaman forsake his soldiers thus</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When you went forth to hunt the Assyrian Bull?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your manly courage is less durable</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than woman's love, it seems. Go, if you will,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who bids me now farewell?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Soldiers:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> Not I, not I!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lady, lead on, we'll follow you forever!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why, now you speak like men! Brought you no word</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of Samaria, except that cry</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of impotence and fear from Israel's King?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I do remember while he spoke with us</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page516" id="page516" title="516"></a> +<span class="i0">A rustic messenger came in, and cried</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Elisha saith, bring Naaman to me</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At Dothan, he shall surely know there is</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A God in Israel.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> What said the King?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">He only shouted “Go!” more wildly yet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And rent his clothes again, as if he were</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Half-maddened by a coward's fear, and thought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only of how he might be rid of us.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What comfort could there be for him, what hope</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For us, in the rude prophet's misty word?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">It is the very word for which I prayed!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My trust was not in princes; for the crown,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sceptre, and the purple robe are not</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Significant of vital power. The man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who saves his brother-men is he who lives</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His life with Nature, takes deep hold on truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And trusts in God. A prophet's word is more</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than all the kings on earth can speak. How far</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is Dothan?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Lady, 'tis but three hours' ride</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the valley southward.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i14"> Near! so near?</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page517" id="page517" title="517"></a> +<span class="i0">I had not thought to end my task so soon!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Prepare yourselves with speed to take the road.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will awake my lord.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exeunt all but <em>Saballidin</em> and <em>Ruahmah</em>. +She goes toward the tent.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i11"> Ruahmah, stay! <span><strong>[</strong>She turns back.<strong>]</strong></span></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I've been your servant in this doubtful quest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Obedient, faithful, loyal to your will,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What have I earned by this?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i14"> The gratitude</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of him we both desire to serve: your friend,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My master and my lord.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> No more than this?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yes, if you will, take all the thanks my hands</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Can hold, my lips can speak.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i15"> I would have more.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">My friend, there's nothing more to give to you.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My service to my lord is absolute.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's not a drop of blood within my veins</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But quickens at the very thought of him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And not a dream of mine but he doth stand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Within its heart and make it bright. No man</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page518" id="page518" title="518"></a> +<span class="i0">To me is other than his friend or foe.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You are his friend, and I believe you true!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I have been true to him,—now, I am true</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To you.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Why, then, be doubly true to him.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O let us match our loyalties, and strive</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Between us who shall win the higher crown!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Men boast them of a friendship stronger far</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than love of woman. Prove it! I'll not boast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But I'll contend with you on equal terms</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this brave race: and if you win the prize</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll hold you next to him: and if I win</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He'll hold you next to me; and either way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll not be far apart. Do you accept</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My challenge?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i7"> Yes! For you enforce my heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By honour to resign its great desire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And love itself to offer sacrifice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all disloyal dreams on its own altar.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet love remains; therefore I pray you, think</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How surely you must lose in our contention.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For I am known to Naaman: but you</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He blindly takes for Tsarpi. 'Tis to her</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He gives his gratitude: the praise you win</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Endears her name.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page519" id="page519" title="519"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> Her name? Why, what is that?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A name is but an empty shell, a mask</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That does not change the features of the face</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beneath it. Can a name rejoice, or weep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or hope? Can it be moved by tenderness</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To daily services of love, or feel the warmth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of dear companionship? How many things</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We call by names that have no meaning! Kings</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That cannot rule; and gods that are not good;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And wives that do not love! It matters not</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What syllables he utters when he calls,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Tis I who come,—'tis I who minister</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unto my lord, and mine the living heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That feels the comfort of his confidence,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The thrill of gladness when he speaks to me,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I do not hear the name!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i12"> And yet, be sure</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There's danger in this error,—and no gain!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I seek no gain: I only tread the path</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Marked for me daily by the hand of love.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And if his blindness spared my lord one pang</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of sorrow in his black, forsaken hour,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And if this error makes his burdened heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">More quiet, and his shadowed way less dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whom do I rob? Not her who chose to stay</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page520" id="page520" title="520"></a> +<span class="i0">At ease in Rimmon's House! Surely not him!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only myself! And that enriches me.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why trouble we the master? Let it go,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To-morrow he must know the truth,—and then</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He shall dispose of me e'en as he will!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">To-morrow?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i6"> Yes, for I will tarry here,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While you conduct him to Elisha's house</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To find the promised healing. I forebode</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A sudden danger from the craven King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Israel, or else a secret ambush</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From those who hate us in Damascus. Go,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But leave me twenty men: this mountain-pass</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Protects the road behind you. Make my lord</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Obey the prophet's word, whatever he commands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And come again in peace. Farewell!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exit <em>Saballidin</em>. +<em>Ruahmah</em> goes toward the tent, then pauses and turns back. +She takes her lute and sings.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="song"><span class="sc">Song</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">Above the edge of dark appear the lances of the sun;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Along the mountain-ridges clear his rosy heralds run;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The vapours down the valley go</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Like broken armies, dark and low.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Look up, my heart, from every hill</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page521" id="page521" title="521"></a> +<span class="i2"> In folds of rose and daffodil</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The sunrise banners flow.</span></i></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">O fly away on silent wing, ye boding owls of night!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O welcome little birds that sing the coming-in of light!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For new, and new, and ever-new,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The golden bud within the blue;</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And every morning seems to say:</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> “There's something happy on the way,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And God sends love to you!”</span></i></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Appearing at the entrance of his tent.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">O let me ever wake to music! For the soul</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Returns most gently then, and finds its way</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By the soft, winding clue of melody,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Out of the dusky labyrinth of sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into the light. My body feels the sun</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Though I behold naught that his rays reveal.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come, thou who art my daydawn and my sight,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sweet eyes, come close, and make the sunrise mine!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Coming near.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">A fairer day, dear lord, was never born</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In Paradise! The sapphire cup of heaven</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is filled with golden wine: the earth, adorned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With jewel-drops of dew, unveils her face</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A joyful bride, in welcome to her king.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And look! He leaps upon the Eastern hills</span><br /> +<span class="i0">All ruddy fire, and claims her with a kiss.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page522" id="page522" title="522"></a> +<span class="i0">Yonder the snowy peaks of Hermon float</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Unmoving as a wind-dropt cloud. The gulf</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Jordan, filled with violet haze, conceals</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The river's winding trail with wreaths of mist.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Below us, marble-crowned Samaria thrones</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon her emerald hill amid the Vale</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Barley, while the plains to northward change</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their colour like the shimmering necks of doves.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The lark springs up, with morning on her wings,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To climb her singing stairway in the blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And all the fields are sprinkled with her joy!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy voice is magical: thy words are visions!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I must content myself with them, for now</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My only hope is lost: Samaria's King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rejects our monarch's message,—hast thou heard?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Am I a god that I should cure a leper?”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He sends me home unhealed, with angry words,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Back to Damascus and the lingering death.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What matter where he sends? No god is he</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To slay or make alive. Elisha bids</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You come to him at Dothan, there to learn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is a God in Israel.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> I fear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That I am grown mistrustful of all gods;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their secret counsels are implacable.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page523" id="page523" title="523"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fear not! There's One who rules in righteousness</span><br /> +<span class="i0">High over all.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i8"> What knowest thou of Him?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Oh, I have heard,—the maid of Israel,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rememberest thou? She often said her God</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was merciful and kind, and slow to wrath,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And plenteous in forgiveness, pitying us</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like as a father pitieth his children.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">If there were such a God, I'd worship Him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Forever!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i5"> Then make haste to hear the word</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His prophet promises to speak to thee!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt find</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Healing and peace. The light shall fill thine eyes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt not need my leading any more,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor me,—for thou wilt see me, all unveiled,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I tremble at the thought.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> Why, what is this?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Turning to him and speaking in broken words.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am,—thy handmaid,—all and only thine,—</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page524" id="page524" title="524"></a> +<span class="i0">The very pulses of my heart are thine!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Feel how they throb to comfort thee to-day—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To-day! Because it is thy time of trouble.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>She takes his hand and puts it to her forehead +and her lips, but before she can lay it upon her heart, +he draws away from her.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With lips that may be fatal? Tempt me not</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I can claim thee with a joyful heart.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Turning away.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou wilt not need me then,—and I shall be</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No more than the faint echo of a song</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Heard half asleep. We shall go back to where</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We stood before this journey.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i15"> Never again!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For thou art changed by some deep miracle.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Art thou not changed?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i11"> Yea, I am changed,—and changed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Again,—bewildered,—till there's nothing clear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To me but this: I am the instrument</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page525" id="page525" title="525"></a> +<span class="i0">In an Almighty hand to rescue thee</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From death. This will I do,—and afterward—</span><br /> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>A trumpet is blown without.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hearken, the trumpet sounds, the chariot waits.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Away, dear lord, follow the road to light!</span></p> + +<h4><a name="footnoteref3" id="footnoteref3"></a> +Scene II <a href="#footnote3"> * </a></h4> + +<p class="sd"> +The house of Elisha, upon a terraced hillside. A low stone +cottage with vine-trellises and flowers; a flight of steps, at +the foot of which is <em>Naaman's</em> chariot. He is standing in +it; <em>Saballidin</em> beside it. Two soldiers come down the +steps.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>First Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">We have delivered my lord's greeting and his message.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Second Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Yes, and near lost our noses in the doing of it! For +the servant slammed the door in our faces. A +most unmannerly reception!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>First Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">But I take that as a good omen. It is a mark of holy +men to keep ill-conditioned servants. Look, the +door opens, the prophet is coming.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Second Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">No, by my head, it is that notable mark of his master's +<a class="pagebreak" name="page526" id="page526" title="526"></a> +holiness, that same lantern-jawed lout of a +servant.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong><em>Gehazi</em> loiters down the steps +and comes to <em>Naaman</em> with a slight obeisance.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Gehazi:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">My master, the prophet of Israel, sends word to +Naaman the Syrian,—are you he?—-“Go wash in +Jordan seven times and be healed.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong><em>Gehazi</em> turns and goes slowly up the steps.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What insolence is this? Am I a man</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To be put off with surly messengers?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has not Damascus rivers more renowned</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Than this rude muddy Jordan? Crystal streams,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Abana! Pharpar! flowing smoothly through</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A paradise of roses? Might I not</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have bathed in them and been restored at ease?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Come up, Saballidin, and guide me home!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bethink thee, master, shall we lose our quest</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Because a servant is uncouth? The road</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That seeks the mountain leads us through the vale.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The prophet's word is friendly after all;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For had it been some mighty task he set,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou wouldst perform it. How much rather then</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This easy one? Hast thou not promised her</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who waits for thy return? Wilt thou go back</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To her unhealed?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page527" id="page527" title="527"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> No! not for all my pride!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll make myself most humble for her sake,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And stoop to anything that gives me hope</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of having her. Make haste, Saballidin,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bring me to Jordan. I will cast myself</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into that river's turbulent embrace</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hundred times, until I save my life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or lose it!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exeunt. The light fades: musical interlude. +The light increases again with ruddy sunset shining on the door +of <em>Elisha's</em> house. The prophet appears and looks off, +shading his eyes with his hand as he descends the steps. +Trumpet blows,—<em>Naaman's</em> call;—sound of horses galloping +and men shouting. <em>Naaman</em> enters joyously, +followed by <em>Saballidin</em> and soldiers, with gifts.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behold a man delivered from the grave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">By thee! I rose from Jordan's waves restored</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To youth and vigour, as the eagle mounts</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon the sunbeam and renews his strength!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O mighty prophet deign to take from me</span><br /> +<span class="i0">These gifts too poor to speak my gratitude;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Silver and gold and jewels, damask robes,—</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Elisha:</em> <strong>[</strong>Interrupting.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">As thy soul liveth I will not receive</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page528" id="page528" title="528"></a> +<span class="i0">A gift from thee, my son! Give all to Him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose mercy hath redeemed thee from thy plague.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">He is the only God! I worship Him!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Grant me a portion of the blessed soil</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of this most favoured land where I have found</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His mercy; in Damascus will I build</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An altar to His name, and praise Him there</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Morning and night. There is no other God</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In all the world.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Elisha:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i9"> Thou needst not</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This load of earth to build a shrine for Him;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet take it if thou wilt. But be assured</span><br /> +<span class="i0">God's altar is in every loyal heart,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every flame of love that kindles there</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ascends to Him and brightens with His praise.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is no other God! But evil Powers</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Make war against Him in the darkened world;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And many temples have been built to them.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I know them well! Yet when my master goes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To worship in the House of Rimmon, I</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Must enter with him; for he trusts me, leans</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Upon my hand; and when he bows himself</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I cannot help but make obeisance too,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But not to Rimmon! To my country's King</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page529" id="page529" title="529"></a> +<span class="i0">I'll bow in love and honour. Will the Lord</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Pardon thy servant in this thing?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Elisha:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i17"> My son,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Peace has been granted thee. 'Tis thine to find</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The only way to keep it. Go in peace.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou hast not answered me,—may I bow down?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Elisha:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The answer must be thine. The heart that knows</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The perfect peace of gratitude and love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Walks in the light and needs no other rule.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">When next thou comest into Rimmon's House,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy heart will tell thee how to go in peace.</span></p> + +<p class="central"><i>CURTAIN.</i></p> + +<p class="note"> +<a name="footnote3" id="footnote3"></a><a href="#footnoteref3"> * </a> +Note that this scene is not intended to be put upon the stage, the +effect of the action upon the drama being given at the beginning of +Act IV.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page530" id="page530" title="530"></a> +ACT IV</h3> + +<h4>Scene I</h4> + +<p class="sd"> +The interior of <em>Naaman's</em> tent, at night. <em>Ruahmah</em> alone, +sleeping on the ground. A vision appears to her through +the curtains of the tent: <em>Elisha</em> standing on the hillside +at Dothan: <em>Naaman</em>, restored to sight, comes in and +kneels before him. <em>Elisha</em> blesses him, and he goes out +rejoicing. The vision of the prophet turns to <em>Ruahmah</em> +and lifts his hand in warning.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Elisha:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Daughter of Israel, what dost thou here?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thy prayer is granted. Naaman is healed:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mar not true service with a selfish thought.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing remains for thee to do, except</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give thanks, and go whither the Lord commands.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Obey,—obey! Ere Naaman returns</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou must depart to thine own house in Shechem.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>The vision vanishes.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Waking and rising slowly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">A dream, a dream, a messenger of God!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O dear and dreadful vision, art thou true?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then am I glad with all my broken heart.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing remains,—nothing remains but this,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give thanks, obey, depart,—and so I do.</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page531" id="page531" title="531"></a> +<span class="i0">Farewell, my master's sword! Farewell to you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My amulet! I lay you on the hilt</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His hand shall clasp again: bid him farewell</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For me, since I must look upon his face</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No more for ever!—Hark, what sound was that?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Enter soldier hurriedly.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mistress, an arméd troop, footmen and horse,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Mounting the hill!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> My lord returns in triumph.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not so, for these are enemies; they march</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In haste and silence, answering not our cries.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our enemies? Then hold your ground,—on guard!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fight! fight! Defend the pass, and drive them down.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exit soldier. <em>Ruahmah</em> draws +<em>Naaman's</em> sword from the scabbard and hurries out of the tent. +Confused noise of fighting outside. Three or four soldiers are driven in +by a troop of men in disguise. <em>Ruahmah</em> follows: she is beaten to her knees, +and her sword is broken.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em> <strong>[</strong>Throwing aside the cloth which covers his face.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hold her! So, tiger-maid, we've found your lair</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And trapped you. Where is Naaman,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your master?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page532" id="page532" title="532"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Rising, her arms held by two of <em>Rezon's</em> followers.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i7"> He is far beyond your reach.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brave captain! He has saved himself, the leper,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And left you here?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> The leper is no more.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What mean you?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i8"> He has gone to meet his God.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dead? Dead? Behold how Rimmon's wrath is swift!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Damascus shall be mine; I'll terrify</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The King with this, and make my terms. But no!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">False maid, you sweet-faced harlot, you have lied</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To save him,—speak.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i11"> I am not what you say,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor have I lied, nor will I ever speak</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A word to you, vile servant of a traitor-god.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Break off this little flute of blasphemy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This ivory neck,—twist it, I say!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give her a swift despatch after her leper!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But stay,—if he still lives he'll follow her,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And so we may ensnare him. Harm her not!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page533" id="page533" title="533"></a> +<span class="i0">Bind her! Away with her to Rimmon's House!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is all this carrion dead? There's one that moves,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A spear,—fasten him down! All quiet now?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then back to our Damascus! Rimmon's face</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall be made bright with sacrifice.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Exeunt, forcing <em>Ruahmah</em> with them. +Musical interlude. A wounded soldier crawls from a dark corner of the tent +and finds the chain with <em>Naaman's</em> seal, which has fallen to the ground +in the struggle.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Wounded Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The signet of my lord, her amulet!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lost, lost! Ah, noble lady,—let me die</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With this upon my breast.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>The tent is dark. +Enter <em>Naaman</em> and his company in haste, with torches.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i13"> What bloody work</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is here? God, let me live to punish him</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who wrought this horror! Treacherously slain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At night, by unknown hands, my brave companions:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Tsarpi, my best beloved, light of my soul,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Put out in darkness! O my broken lamp</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of life, where art thou? Nay, I cannot find her.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Wounded Soldier:</em> <strong>[</strong>Raising himself on his arm.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Master!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Kneels beside him.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i4"> One living? Quick, a torch this way!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page534" id="page534" title="534"></a> +<span class="i0">Lift up his head,—so,—carefully!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Courage, my friend, your captain is beside you.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Call back your soul and make report to him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Wounded Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hail, captain! O my captain,—here!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Be patient,—rest in peace,—the fight is done.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing remains but render your account.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Wounded Soldier:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">They fell upon us suddenly,—we fought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our fiercest,—every man,—our lady fought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fiercer than all. They beat us down,—she's gone.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rezon has carried her away a captive. See,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her amulet,—I die for you, my captain.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>He gently lays the dead soldier on the ground, and rises.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Farewell. This last report was brave; but strange</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Beyond my thought! How came the High Priest here?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And what is this? my chain, my seal! But this</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has never been in Tsarpi's hand. I gave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This signet to a captive maid one night,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A maid of Israel. How long ago?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruahmah was her name,—almost forgotten!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So long ago,—how comes this token here?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What is this mystery, Saballidin?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruahmah is her name who brought you hither.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page535" id="page535" title="535"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where then is Tsarpi?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i11"> In Damascus.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She left you when the curse of Rimmon fell,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Took refuge in his House,—and there she waits</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her lord's return,—Rezon's return.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i18"> 'Tis false!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The falsehood is in her. She hath been friend</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With Rezon in his priestly plot to win</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Assyria's favour,—friend to his design</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To sell his country to enrich his temple,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And friend to him in more,—I will not name it.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor will I credit it. Impossible!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Did she not plead with you against the war,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Counsel surrender, seek to break your will?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">She did not love my work, a soldier's task.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She never seemed to be at one with me</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until I was a leper.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i11"> From whose hand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Did you receive the sacred cup?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i16"> From hers.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page536" id="page536" title="536"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">And from that hour the curse began to work.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">But did she not have pity when she saw</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Me smitten? Did she not beseech the King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For letters and a guard to make this journey?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has she not been the fountain of my hope,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My comforter and my most faithful guide</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In this adventure of the dark? All this</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is proof of perfect love that would have shared</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A leper's doom rather than give me up.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Can I doubt her who dared to love like this?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Saballidin:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">O master, doubt her not,—but know her name;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruahmah! It was she alone who wrought</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This wondrous work of love. She won the King</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To furnish forth this company. She led</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Our march, kept us in heart, fought off despair,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Watched over you as if you were her child,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Prepared your food, your cup, with her own hands,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sang you asleep at night, awake at dawn,—</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Interrupting.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Enough! I do remember every hour</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of that sweet comradeship! And now her voice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Wakens the echoes in my lonely breast.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Shall I not see her, thank her, speak her name?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruahmah! Let me live till I have looked</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Into her eyes and called her my Ruahmah!</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page537" id="page537" title="537"></a> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>To his soldiers.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Away! away! I burn to take the road</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That leads me back to Rimmon's House,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But not to bow,—by God, never to bow!</span></p> + +<h4>Scene II</h4> + +<p class="central"><span class="sc">Time:</span> <i>Three days later</i></p> + +<p class="sd"> +Inner court of the House of Rimmon; a temple with huge +pillars at each side. In the right foreground the seat of +the King; at the left, of equal height, the seat of the High +Priest. In the background a broad flight of steps, rising +to a curtain of cloudy gray, embroidered with two gigantic +hands holding thunderbolts. The temple is in half +darkness at first. Enter <em>Khamma</em> and <em>Nubta</em>, robed as +Kharimati, or religious dancers, in gowns of black gauze +with yellow embroideries and mantles.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">All is ready for the rites of worship; our lady will +play a great part in them. She has put on her +Tyrian robes, and all her ornaments.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">That is a sure sign of a religious purpose. She is +most devout, our lady Tsarpi!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">A favourite of Rimmon, too! The High Priest has +assured her of it. He is a great man,—next to the +King, now that Naaman is gone.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page538" id="page538" title="538"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">But if Naaman should come back, healed of the +leprosy?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">How can he come back? The Hebrew slave that +went away with him, when they caught her, said +that he was dead. The High Priest has shut her +up in the prison of the temple, accusing her of +her master's death.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Yet I think he does not believe it, for I heard him +telling our mistress what to do if Naaman should +return.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">What, then?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">She will claim him as her husband. Was she not +wedded to him before the god? That is a sacred +bond. Only the High Priest can loose it. She +will keep her hold on Naaman for the sake of the +House of Rimmon. A wife knows her husband's +secrets, she can tell—</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Enter <em>Shumakim</em>, with his flagon, walking unsteadily.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Hush! here comes the fool Shumakim. He is never +sober.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page539" id="page539" title="539"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em> <strong>[</strong>Laughing.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Are there two of you? I see two, but that is no proof. +I think there is only one, but beautiful enough for +two. What were you talking to yourself about, +fairest one!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">About the lady Tsarpi, fool, and what she would do +if her husband returned.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">Fie! fie! That is no talk for an innocent fool to +hear. Has she a husband?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">You know very well that she is the wife of Lord +Naaman.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">I remember that she used to wear his name and his +jewels. But I thought he had exchanged her,—for +a leprosy.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">You must have heard that he went away to Samaria +to look for healing. Some say that he died on +the journey; but others say he has been cured, +and is on his way home to his wife.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">It may be, for this is a mad world, and men never +know when they are well off,—except us fools. +But he must come soon if he would find his wife +as he parted from her,—or the city where he left +<a class="pagebreak" name="page540" id="page540" title="540"></a> +it. The Assyrians have returned with a greater +army, and this time they will make an end of us. +There is no Naaman now, and the Bull will devour +Damascus like a bunch of leeks, flowers and all,—flowers +and all, my double-budded fair one! Are +you not afraid?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Nubta:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">We belong to the House of Rimmon. He will protect +us.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">What? The mighty one who hides behind the curtain +there, and tells his secrets to Rezon? No doubt +he will take care of you, and of himself. Whatever +game is played, the gods never lose. But for +the protection of the common people and the rest +of us fools, I would rather have Naaman at the +head of an army than all the sacred images between +here and Babylon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Khamma:</em></span><br /> +<span class="prose">You are a wicked old man. You mock the god. He +will punish you.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Shumakim:</em> <strong>[</strong>Bitterly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="prose">How can he punish me? Has he not already made +me a fool? Hark, here comes my brother the +High Priest, and my brother the King. Rimmon +made us all; but nobody knows who made Rimmon, +except the High Priest; and he will never tell.</span></p> + +<p class="sd"> +<strong>[</strong>Gongs and cymbals sound. Enter <em>Rezon</em> with priests, and +<a class="pagebreak" name="page541" id="page541" title="541"></a> +the King with courtiers. They take their seats. A throng +of Khali and Kharimati come in, <em>Tsarpi</em> presiding; a +sacred dance is performed with torches, burning incense, +and chanting, in which <em>Tsarpi</em> leads.<strong>]</strong></p> + +<p class="song"><span class="sc">Chant</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i><span class="i0">Hail, mighty Rimmon, ruler of the whirl-storm,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hail, shaker of mountains, breaker-down of forests,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hail, thou who roarest terribly in the darkness,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hail, thou whose arrows flame across the heavens!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hail, great destroyer, lord of flood and tempest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In thine anger almighty, in thy wrath eternal,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou who delightest in ruin, maker of desolations,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Immeru, Addu, Berku, Rimmon!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">See we tremble before thee, low we bow at thine altar,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have mercy upon us, be favourable unto us,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Save us from our enemy, accept our sacrifice,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Barku, Immeru, Addu, Rimmon!</span></i></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Silence follows, all bowing down.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">O King, last night the counsel from above</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was given in answer to our divination.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ambassadors must go forthwith to crave</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Assyria's pardon, and a second offer</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of the same terms of peace we did reject</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not long ago.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i7"> Dishonour! Yet I see</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page542" id="page542" title="542"></a> +<span class="i0">No other way! Assyria will refuse,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Or make still harder terms. Disaster, shame</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For this gray head, and ruin for Damascus!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet may we trust Rimmon will favour us,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If we adhere devoutly to his worship.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He will incline his brother-god, the Bull,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To spare us, if we supplicate him now</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With costly gifts. Therefore I have prepared</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A sacrifice: Rimmon shall be well pleased</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With the red blood that bathes his knees to-night!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">My mind is dark with doubt,—I do forebode</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Some horror! Let me go,—I am an old man,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If Naaman my captain were alive!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But he is dead,—the glory is departed!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>He rises, trembling, to leave the throne. +Trumpet sounds,—<em>Naaman's</em> call;—enter <em>Naaman</em>, +followed by soldiers; he kneels at the foot of the throne.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Half-whispering.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Art thou a ghost escaped from Allatu?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How didst thou pass the seven doors of death?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O noble ghost I am afraid of thee,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet I love thee,—let me hear thy voice!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">No ghost, my King, but one who lives to serve</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thee and Damascus with his heart and sword</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page543" id="page543" title="543"></a> +<span class="i0">As in the former days. The only God</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Has healed my leprosy: my life is clean</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To offer to my country and my King.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Starting toward him.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">O welcome to thy King! Thrice welcome!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em> <strong>[</strong>Leaving his seat and coming toward <em>Naaman</em>.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i20"> Stay!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The leper must appear before the priest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The only one who can pronounce him clean.</span><br /> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong><em>Naaman</em> turns; they stand looking each other in the face.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yea,—thou art cleansed: Rimmon hath pardoned thee,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In answer to the daily prayers of her</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whom he restores to thine embrace,—thy wife.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong><em>Tsarpi</em> comes slowly toward <em>Naaman</em>.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">From him who rules this House will I receive</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing! I seek no pardon from his priest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">No wife of mine among his votaries!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Tsarpi:</em> <strong>[</strong>Holding out her hands.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Am I not yours? Will you renounce our vows?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The vows were empty,—never made you mine</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In aught but name. A wife is one who shares</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her husband's thought, incorporates his heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With hers by love, and crowns him with her trust.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She is God's remedy for loneliness,</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page544" id="page544" title="544"></a> +<span class="i0">And God's reward for all the toil of life.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">This you have never been to me,—and so</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I give you back again to Rimmon's House</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where you belong. Claim what you will of mine,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not me! I do renounce you,—or release you,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">According to the law. If you demand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A further cause than what I have declared,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I will unfold it fully to the King.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em> <strong>[</strong>Interposing hurriedly.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">No need of that! This duteous lady yields</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To your caprice as she has ever done:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She stands a monument of loyalty</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And woman's meekness.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i11"> Let her stand for that!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Adorn your temple with her piety!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But you in turn restore to me the treasure</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You stole at midnight from my tent.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">What treasure! I have stolen none from you.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">The very jewel of my soul,—Ruahmah!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My King, the captive maid of Israel,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To whom thou didst commit my broken life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With letters to Samaria,—my light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My guide, my saviour in this pilgrimage,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dost thou remember?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page545" id="page545" title="545"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i10"> I recall the maid,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But dimly,—for my mind is old and weary,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She was a fearless maid, I trusted her</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And gave thee to her charge. Where is she now?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">This robber fell upon my camp by night,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While I was with Elisha at the Jordan,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Slaughtered my soldiers, carried off the maid,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And holds her somewhere in imprisonment.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O give this jewel back to me, my King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I will serve thee with a grateful heart</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For ever. I will fight for thee, and lead</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thine armies on to glorious victory</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Over all foes! Thou shalt no longer fear</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The host of Asshur, for thy throne shall stand</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Encompassed with a wall of dauntless hearts,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And founded on a mighty people's love,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And guarded by the God of righteousness.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I feel the flame of courage at thy breath</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Leap up among the ashes of despair.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thou hast returned to save us! Thou shalt have</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The maid; and thou shalt lead my host again!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Priest, I command you give her back to him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">O master, I obey thy word as thou</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hast ever been obedient to the voice</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page546" id="page546" title="546"></a> +<span class="i0">Of Rimmon. Let thy fiery captain wait</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Until the sacrifice has been performed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And he shall have the jewel that he claims.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Must we not first placate the city's god</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With due allegiance, keep the ancient faith,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And pay our homage to the Lord of Wrath?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Sinking back upon his throne in fear.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And lo, these many years I worship him!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">My thoughts are troubled,—I am very old,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But still a King! O Naaman, be patient!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Priest, let the sacrifice be offered.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>The High Priest lifts his rod. +Gongs and cymbals sound. The curtain is rolled back, disclosing the image of Rimmon; +a gigantic and hideous idol, with a cruel human face, four horns, the mane of a lion, +and huge paws stretched in front of him enclosing a low altar of black stone. +<em>Ruahmah</em> stands on the altar, chained, her arms are bare and folded on her breast. +The people prostrate themselves in silence, +with signs of astonishment and horror.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Rezon:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Behold the sacrifice! Bow down, bow down!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em> <strong>[</strong>Stabbing him.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Bow thou, black priest! Down,—down to hell!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruahmah! do not die! I come to thee.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong><em>Naaman</em> rushes toward her, +attacked by the priests, crying “Sacrilege! Kill him!” But the soldiers +<a class="pagebreak" name="page547" id="page547" title="547"></a> +stand on the steps and beat them back. He springs upon the altar +and clasps her by the hand. Tumult and confusion. The King rises +and speaks with a loud voice, silence follows.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Peace, peace! The King commands all weapons down!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O Naaman, what wouldst thou do? Beware</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lest thou provoke the anger of a god.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">There is no God but one, the Merciful,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who gave this perfect woman to my soul</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That I might learn through her to worship Him,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And know the meaning of immortal Love.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em> <strong>[</strong>Agitated.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Yet she is consecrated, bound, and doomed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To sacrificial death; but thou art sworn</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To live and lead my host,—Hast thou not sworn?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Only if thou wilt keep thy word to me!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Break with this idol of iniquity</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Whose shadow makes a darkness in the land;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Give her to me who gave me back to thee;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And I will lead thine army to renown</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And plant thy banners on the hill of triumph.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But if she dies, I die with her, defying Rimmon.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>Cries of “Spare them! Release her! +Give us back our Captain!” and “Sacrilege! Let them die!” +Then silence, all turning toward the King.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page548" id="page548" title="548"></a> +<span class="speaker"><em>Benhadad:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is this the choice? Must we destroy the bond</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of ancient faith, or slay the city's living hope!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I am an old, old man,—and yet the King!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Must I decide?—O let me ponder it!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="sd"> <strong>[</strong>His head sinks upon his breast. +All stand eagerly looking at him.<strong>]</strong></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Naaman:</em></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ruahmah, my Ruahmah! I have come</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To thee at last! And art thou satisfied?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="speaker"><em>Ruahmah:</em> <strong>[</strong>Looking into his face.<strong>]</strong></span><br /> +<span class="i0">Belovéd, my belovéd, I am glad</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of all, and glad for ever, come what may.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nothing can harm me,—since my lord is come!</span></p> + +</div> + +<h2><a class="pagebreak" name="page549" id="page549" title="549"></a> +APPENDIX</h2> + +<h2>CARMINA FESTIVA</h2> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak blank" name="page550" id="page550" title="550"></a> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page551" id="page551" title="551"></a> +THE LITTLE-NECK CLAM</h3> + +<p class="note"> +A modern verse-sequence, showing how a native American subject, +strictly realistic, may be treated in various manners adapted to the +requirements of different magazines, thus combining Art-for-Art's-Sake +with Writing-for-the-Market. Read at the First Dinner of the +American Periodical Publishers' Association, in Washington, April, +1904. +</p> + +<h4>I</h4> + +<h4>THE ANTI-TRUST CLAM</h4> + +<h4>For <i>McClure's Magazine</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clam that once, on Jersey's banks,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Was like the man who dug it, free,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Now slave-like thro' the market clanks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In chains of corporate tyranny.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Standard Fish-Trust of New York</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Holds every clam-bank in control;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And like base Beef and menial Pork,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The free-born Clam has lost its soul.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more the bivalve treads the sands</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In freedom's rapture, free from guilt:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It follows now the harsh commands</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of Morgiman and Rockabilt.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rise, freemen, rise! Your wrath is just!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Call on the Sherman Act to dam</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The floods of this devouring Trust,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And liberate the fettered Clam.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page552" id="page552" title="552"></a> +II</h4> + +<h4>THE WHITMANIAC CLAM</h4> + +<h4>For the <i>Bookman</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not Dante when he wandered by the river Arno,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not Burns who plowed the banks and braes of bonnie Ayr,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not even Shakspere on the shores of Avon,—ah, no!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not one of those great bards did taste true Poet's Fare.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Whitman, loafing in Long Island and New Jersey,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Found there the sustenance of mighty ode and psalm,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And while his rude emotions swam around in verse, he</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Fed chiefly on the wild, impassioned, sea-born clam.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus in his work we feel the waves' bewildering motion,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And winds from mighty mud-flats, weird and wild:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">His clam-filled bosom answered to the voice of ocean,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And rose and fell responsively with every tide.</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page553" id="page553" title="553"></a> +III</h4> + +<h4>IL MERCATORE ITALIANO DELLA CLAMMA</h4> + +<h4>For the <i>Century Magazine</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Clam O! Fres' Clam!” How strange it sounds and sweet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Dago's cry along the New York street!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“Dago” we call him, like the thoughtless crowd;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet this humble man may well be proud</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To hail from Petrarch's land, Boccaccio's home,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Firenze, Gubbio, Venezia, Rome,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From fair Italia, whose enchanted soil</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Transforms the lowly cotton-seed to olive-oil.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To me his chant, with alien accent sung,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Brings back an echo of great Virgil's tongue:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">It seems to cry against the city's woe,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In liquid Latin syllables,—<i>Clamo</i>!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">As thro' the crowded street his cart he jams</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cries aloud, ah, think of more than clams!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Receive his secret plaint with pity warm,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And grant Italia's plea for Tenement-House Reform!</span></p> + +<h4><a class="pagebreak" name="page554" id="page554" title="554"></a> +IV</h4> + +<h4>THE SOCIAL CLAM</h4> + +<h4>For the <i>Smart Set</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Phyllis is another's bride:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Therefore I like to sit beside</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her at a very smart set dinner,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And whisper love, and try to win her.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The little-necks,—in number six,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That from their pearly shells she picks</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And swallows whole,—ah, is it selfish</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To wish my heart among those shell-fish?</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“But Phyllis is another's wife;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And if she should absorb thy life</span><br /> +<span class="i0">'Twould leave thy bosom vacant.”—Well,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'd keep at least the empty shell!</span></p> + +<h4>V</h4> + +<h4>THE RECREANT CLAM</h4> + +<h4>For the <i>Outlook</i></h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Because thy slothful spirit doth refuse</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The bliss of battle and the strain of strife.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rise, craven clam, and lead the strenuous life!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page555" id="page555" title="555"></a> +A FAIRY TALE</h3> + +<h4>For the Mark Twain Dinner, December 5, 1905</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> Some three-score years and ten ago</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> A prince was born at Florida, Mo.;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And though he came <i>incognito</i>,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With just the usual yells of woe,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The watchful fairies seemed to know</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Precisely what the row meant;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> For when he was but five days old,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> (December fifth as I've been told,)</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> They pattered through the midnight cold,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And came around his crib, to hold</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> A “Council of Endowment.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> “I give him Wit,” the eldest said,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And stooped above the little bed,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To touch his forehead round and red.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “Within this bald, unfurnished head,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Where wild luxuriant locks shall spread</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And wave in years hereafter,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I kindle now the lively spark,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That still shall flash by day and dark,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And everywhere he goes shall mark</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> His way with light and laughter.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page556" id="page556" title="556"></a> +<span class="i1"> The fairies laughed to think of it</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> That such a rosy, wrinkled bit</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Of flesh should be endowed with Wit!</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But something serious seemed to hit</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The mind of one, as if a fit</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of fear had come upon her.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “I give him Truth,” she quickly cried,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “That laughter may not lead aside</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> To paths where scorn and falsehood hide,—</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> I give him Truth and Honour!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i1"> “I give him Love,” exclaimed the third;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And as she breathed the mystic word,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I know not if the baby heard,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> But softly in his dream he stirred,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And twittered like a little bird,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And stretched his hands above him.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> The fairy's gift was sealed and signed</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With kisses twain the deed to bind:</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “A heart of love to human-kind,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And human-kind to love him!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page557" id="page557" title="557"></a> +<span class="i1"> “Now stay your giving!” cried the Queen.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> “These gifts are passing rich I ween;</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And if reporters should be mean</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Enough to spy upon this scene,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> 'Twould make all other babies green</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> With envy at the rumour.</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> Yet since I love this child, forsooth,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> I'll mix your gifts, Wit, Love and Truth,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> With spirits of Immortal Youth,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And call the mixture Humour!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fairies vanished with their glittering train;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But here's the Prince with all their gifts,—<i>Mark Twain</i>.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page558" id="page558" title="558"></a> +THE BALLAD OF THE SOLEMN ASS</h3> + +<h4>Recited at the Century Club, New York: Twelfth Night. 1906</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You've made a Poet Laureate, now you must hear his rhymes.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Extend your ears and I'll respond by shortening up my tale:—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Man cannot live by verse alone, he must have cakes and ale.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So while you wait for better things and muse on schnapps and salad,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll try my Pegasus his wings and sing a little ballad:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A legend of your ancestors, the Wise Men of the East,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who brought among their baggage train a quaint and curious beast.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their horses were both swift and strong, and we should think it lucky</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If we could buy, by telephone, such horses from Kentucky;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their dromedaries paced along, magnificent and large,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Their camels were as stately as if painted by La Farge.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But this amazing little ass was never satisfied,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He made more trouble every day than all the rest beside:</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page559" id="page559" title="559"></a> +<span class="i0">His ears were long, his legs were short, his eyes were bleared and dim,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But nothing in the wide, wide world was good enough for him.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He did not like the way they went, but lifted up his voice</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And said that any other way would be a better choice.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He braced his feet and stood his ground, and made the wise men wait,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While with his heels at all around he did recalcitrate.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It mattered not how fair the land through which the road might run,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He found new causes for complaint with every Morning Sun:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when the shades of twilight fell and all the world grew nappy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They tied him to his Evening Post, but still he was not happy.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He thought his load was far too large, he thought his food was bad,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He thought the Star a poor affair, he thought the Wise Men mad:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He did not like to hear them laugh,—'twas childish to be jolly;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And if perchance they sang a hymn,—'twas sentimental folly!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page560" id="page560" title="560"></a> +<span class="i0">So day by day this little beast performed his level best</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make their life, in work and play, a burden to the rest:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And when they laid them down at night, he would not let them sleep,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But criticized the Universe with hee-haws loud and deep.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One evening, as the Wise Men sat before their fire-lit tent,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And ate and drank and talked and sang, in grateful merriment,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The solemn donkey butted in, in his most solemn way,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And broke the happy meeting up with a portentous bray.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Now by my head,” Balthazar said (his real name was Choate),</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“We've had about enough of this! I'll put it to the vote.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I move the donkey be dismissed; let's turn him out to grass,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And travel on our cheerful way, without the solemn ass.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The vote was aye! and with a whack the Wise Men drove him out;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But still he wanders up and down, and all the world about;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">You'll know him by his long, sad face and supercilious ways,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And likewise by his morning kicks and by his evening brays.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page561" id="page561" title="561"></a> +<span class="i0">But while we sit at Eagle Roost and make our Twelfth Night cheer,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Full well we know the solemn ass will not disturb us here:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For pleasure rules the roost to-night, by order of the King,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every one must play his part, and laugh, and likewise sing.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The road of life is long, we know, and often hard to find,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And yet there's many a pleasant turn for men of cheerful mind:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We've done our day's work honestly, we've earned the right to rest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll take a cup of friendship now and spice it with a jest.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A silent health to absent friends, their memories are bright!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A hearty health to all who keep the feast with us to-night!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A health to dear Centuria, oh, may she long abide!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A health, a health to all the world,—and the solemn ass, <i>outside</i>!</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page562" id="page562" title="562"></a> +A BALLAD OF SANTA CLAUS</h3> + +<h4>For the St. Nicholas Society of New York</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I find the one whose name we hold, St. Nicholas of Myra:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The best-beloved name, I guess, in sacred nomenclature,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The patron-saint of helpfulness, and friendship, and good-nature.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A bishop and a preacher too, a famous theologian,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He stood against the Arian crew and fought them like a Trojan:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But when a poor man told his need and begged an alms in trouble,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He never asked about his creed, but quickly gave him double.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three pretty maidens, so they say, were longing to be married;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But they were paupers, lack-a-day, and so the suitors tarried.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">St. Nicholas gave each maid a purse of golden ducats chinking,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And then, for better or for worse, they wedded quick as winking.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page563" id="page563" title="563"></a> +<span class="i0">Once, as he sailed, a storm arose; wild waves the ship surrounded;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The sailors wept and tore their clothes, and shrieked “We'll all be drownded!”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">St. Nicholas never turned a hair; serenely shone his halo;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He simply said a little prayer, and all the billows lay low.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wicked keeper of an inn had three small urchins taken,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And cut them up in a pickle-bin, and salted them for bacon.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">St. Nicholas came and picked them out, and put their limbs together,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">They lived, they leaped, they gave a shout, “St. Nicholas forever!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus it came to pass, you know, that maids without a nickel,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sailor-lads when tempest blow, and children in a pickle,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And every man that's fatherly, and every kindly matron,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In choosing saints would all agree to call St. Nicholas patron.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page564" id="page564" title="564"></a> +<span class="i0">He comes again at Christmas-time and stirs us up to giving;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He rings the merry bells that chime good-will to all the living;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He blesses every friendly deed and every free donation;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">He sows the secret, golden seed of love through all creation.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our fathers drank to Santa Claus, the sixth of each December,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And still we keep his feast because his virtues we remember.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Among the saintly ranks he stood, with smiling human features,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And said, “<i>Be good! But not too good to love your fellow-creatures!</i>”</span></p> + +<p class="note">December 6, 1907.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page565" id="page565" title="565"></a> +ARS AGRICOLARIS</h3> + +<h4>An Ode for the “Farmer's Dinner,” University Club, New York, +January 23, 1913</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All hail, ye famous Farmers!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ye vegetable-charmers,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Who know the art of making barren earth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Smile with prolific mirth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bring forth twins or triplets at a birth!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ye scientific <ins + title="Original read 'fetilizers'">fertilizers</ins> of the soil,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And horny-handed sons of toil!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To-night from all your arduous cares released,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With manly brows no longer sweat-impearled,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ye hold your annual feast,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And like the Concord farmers long ago,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Ye meet above the “Bridge” below,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And draw the cork heard round the world!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What memories are yours! What tales</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of triumph have your tongues rehearsed,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Telling how ye have won your first</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Potatoes from the stubborn mead,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">(Almost as many as ye sowed for seed!)</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And how the luscious cabbages and kails</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Have bloomed before you in their bed</span><br /> +<span class="i0">At seven dollars a head!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And how your onions took a prize</span><br /> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page566" id="page566" title="566"></a> +<span class="i0">For bringing tears into the eyes</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of a hard-hearted cook! And how ye slew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The Dragon Cut-worm at a stroke!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And how ye broke,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Routed, and put to flight the horrid crew</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of vile potato-bugs and Hessian flies!</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And how ye did not quail</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Before th' invading armies of San José Scale,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> But met them bravely with your little pail</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of poison, which ye put upon each tail</span><br /> +<span class="i0">O' the dreadful beasts and made their courage fail!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And how ye did acquit yourselves like men</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> In fields of agricultural strife, and then,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Like generous warriors, sat you down at ease</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And gently to your gardener said, “Let us have <i>Pease</i>!”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But <i>were</i> there Pease? Ah, no, dear Farmers, no!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The course of Nature is not ordered so.</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> For when we want a vegetable most,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> She holds it back;</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And when we boast</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To our week-endly friends</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of what we'll give them on our farm, alack,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Those things the old dam, Nature, never sends.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page567" id="page567" title="567"></a> +<span class="i0">O Pease in bottles, Sparrow-grass in jars,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">How often have ye saved from scars</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of shame, and deep embarrassment,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The disingenuous farmer-gent,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> To whom some wondering guest has cried,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> “How <i>do</i> you raise such Pease and Sparrow-grass?”</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Whereat the farmer-gent has not denied</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The compliment, but smiling has replied,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> “To raise such things you must have lots of glass.”</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From wiles like these, true Farmers, hold aloof;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Accept no praise unless you have the proof.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If niggard Nature should withhold the green</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And sugary Pea, welcome the humble Bean.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Even the easy Radish, and the Beet,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">If grown by your own toil are extra sweet.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let malefactors of great wealth and banker-felons</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rejoice in foreign artichokes, imported melons;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But you, my Farmers, at your frugal board</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Spread forth the fare your Sabine Farms afford.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Say to Mæcenas, when he is your guest,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“No peaches! try this turnip, 'tis my best.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Thus shall ye learn from labors in the field</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What honesty a farmer's life may yield,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And like G. Washington in early youth,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Though cherries fail, produce a crop of truth.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page568" id="page568" title="568"></a> +<span class="i0">But think me not too strict, O followers of the plough;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Some place for fiction in your lives I would allow.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In January when the world is drear,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And bills come in, and no results appear,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And snow-storms veil the skies,</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And ice the streamlet clogs,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then may you warm your heart with pleasant lies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And revel in the seedsmen's catalogues!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">What visions and what dreams are these</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Of cauliflower obese,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Of giant celery, taller than a mast,—</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> Of strawberries</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like red pincushions, round and vast,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of succulent and spicy gumbo,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of cantaloupes, as big as Jumbo,—</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> Of high-strung beans without the strings,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And of a host of other wild, romantic things!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"> Why, then, should Doctor Starr declare</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That modern habits mental force impair?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And why should H. Marquand complain</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That jokes as good as his will never come again?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> And why should Bridges wear a gloomy mien</span><br /> +<span class="i0">About the lack of fiction for his Magazine?</span><br /> +<span class="i2"> The seedsman's catalogue is all we need</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> To stir our dull imaginations</span><br /> +<span class="i5"> To new creations,</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> And lead us, by the hand</span><br /> +<span class="i4"> Of Hope, into a fairy-land.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page569" id="page569" title="569"></a> +<span class="i0">So dream, my friendly Farmers, as you will;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And let your fancy all your garners fill</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With wondrous crops; but always recollect</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That Nature gives us less than we expect.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Scorn not the city where you earn the wealth</span><br /> +<span class="i0">That, spent upon your farms, renews your health;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And tell your wife, whene'er the bills have shocked her,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">“A country-place is cheaper than a doctor.”</span><br /> +<span class="i0">May roses bloom for you, and may you find</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Your richest harvest in a tranquil mind.</span></p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page570" id="page570" title="570"></a> +ANGLER'S FIRESIDE SONG</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the angler's path is a very merry way,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And his road through the world is bright;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For he lives with the laughing stream all day,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And he lies by the fire at night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Sing hey nonny, ho nonny</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And likewise well-a-day!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> The angler's life is a very jolly life</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And that's what the anglers say!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, the angler plays for the pleasure of the game,</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> And his creel may be full or light,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the tale that he tells will be just the same</span><br /> +<span class="i1"> When he lies by the fire at night.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"> Sing hey nonny, ho nonny</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And likewise well-a-day!</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> We love the fire and the music of the lyre,</span><br /> +<span class="i3"> And that's what the anglers say!</span></p> + +<p class="note">To the San Francisco Fly-Casting Club, April, 1913.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page571" id="page571" title="571"></a> +HOW SPRING COMES TO SHASTA JIM</h3> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I never seen no “red gods”; I dunno wot's a “lure”;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But if it's sumpin' takin', then Spring has got it sure;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' it doesn't need no Kiplins, ner yet no London Jacks,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To make up guff about it, w'ile settin' in their shacks.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's sumpin' very simple 'at happens in the Spring,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But it changes all the lookin's of every blessed thing;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The buddin' woods look bigger, the mounting twice as high,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the house looks kindo smaller, tho I couldn't tell ye why.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's cur'ous wot a show-down the month of April makes,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Between the reely livin', an' the things 'at's only fakes!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Machines an' barns an' buildin's, they never give no sign;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But the livin' things look lively w'en Spring is on the line.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She doesn't come too suddin, ner she doesn't come too slow;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Her gaits is some cayprishus, an' the next ye never know,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A single-foot o' sunshine, a buck o' snow er hail,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But don't be disapp'inted, fer Spring ain't goin' ter fail.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page572" id="page572" title="572"></a> +<span class="i0">She's loopin' down the hillside,—the driffs is fadin' out.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She's runnin' down the river,—d'ye see them risin' trout?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">She's loafin' down the canyon,—the squaw-bed's growin' blue,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' the teeny Johnny-jump-ups is jest a-peekin' thru.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A thousan' miles o' pine-trees, with Douglas firs between,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Is waitin' fer her fingers to freshen up their green;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With little tips o' brightness the firs 'ill sparkle thick,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' every yaller pine-tree, a giant candle-stick!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The underbrush is risin' an' spreadin' all around,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Jest like a mist o' greenness 'at hangs above the ground;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">A million manzanitas 'ill soon be full o' pink;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">So saddle up, my sonny,—it's time to ride, I think!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll ford er swim the river, becos there ain't no bridge;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll foot the gulches careful, an' lope along the ridge;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">We'll take the trail to Nowhere, an' travel till we tire,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' camp beneath a pine-tree, an' sleep beside the fire.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We'll see the blue-quail chickens, an' hear 'em pipin' clear;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' p'raps we'll sight a brown-bear, er else a bunch o' deer;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">But nary a heathen goddess or god 'ill meet our eyes;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For why? There isn't any! They're jest a pack o' lies!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page573" id="page573" title="573"></a> +<span class="i0">Oh, wot's the use o' “red gods,” an' “Pan,” an' all that stuff?</span><br /> +<span class="i0">The natcheral facts o' Springtime is wonderful enuff!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">An' if there's Someone made 'em, I guess He understood,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">To be alive in Springtime would make a man feel good.</span></p> + +<p class="note">California, 1913.</p> + +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page574" id="page574" title="574"></a> +A BUNCH OF TROUT-FLIES</h3> + +<h4>For Archie Rutledge</h4> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's a half-a-dozen flies,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Just about the proper size</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the trout of Dickey's Run,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Luck go with them every one!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dainty little feathered beauties,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Listen now, and learn your duties:</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not to tangle in the box;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not to catch on logs or rocks,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Boughs that wave or weeds that float,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor in the angler's “pants” or coat!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Not to lure the glutton frog</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From his banquet in the bog;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor the lazy chub to fool,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Splashing idly round the pool;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Nor the sullen hornèd pout</span><br /> +<span class="i0">From the mud to hustle out!</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page575" id="page575" title="575"></a> +<span class="i0">None of this vulgarian crew,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dainty flies, is game for you.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Darting swiftly through the air</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Guided by the angler's care,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Light upon the flowing stream</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like a wingèd fairy dream;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Float upon the water dancing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Through the lights and shadows glancing,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till the rippling current brings you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And with quiet motion swings you,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Where a speckled beauty lies</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Watching you with hungry eyes.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here's your game and here's your prize!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Hover near him, lure him, tease him,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Do your very best to please him,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Dancing on the water foamy,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Like the frail and fair Salome,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Till the monarch yields at last;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Rises, and you have him fast!</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then remember well your duty,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Do not lose, but land, your booty;</span><br /> +<span class="i0">For the finest fish of all is</span><br /> +<span class="i0"><i>Salvelinus Fontinalis.</i></span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<a class="pagebreak" name="page576" id="page576" title="576"></a> +<span class="i0">So, you plumed illusions, go,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Let my comrade Archie know</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Every day he goes a-fishing</span><br /> +<span class="i0">I'll be with him in well-wishing.</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Most of all when lunch is laid</span><br /> +<span class="i0">In the dappled orchard shade,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With Will, Corinne, and Dixie too,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Sitting as we used to do</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Round the white cloth on the grass</span><br /> +<span class="i0">While the lazy hours pass,</span><br /> +<span class="i0">And the brook's contented tune</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Lulls the sleepy afternoon,—</span><br /> +<span class="i0">Then's the time my heart will be</span><br /> +<span class="i0">With that pleasant company!</span></p> + +<p class="note">June 17, 1913.</p> + +<div class="index"> +<h3><a class="pagebreak" name="page577" id="page577" title="577"></a> +INDEX OF FIRST LINES</h3> + +<table summary=""> +<tr> + <td>A deeper crimson in the rose,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page255">255</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A fir-tree standeth lonely</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page197">197</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A flawless cup: how delicate and fine</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page269">269</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A little fir grew in the midst of the wood</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page147">147</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A mocking question! Britain's answer came</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page371">371</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A silent world,—yet full of vital joy</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page101">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A silken curtain veils the skies,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page46">46</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>A tear that trembles for a little while</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page4">4</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page187">187</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Afterthought of summer's bloom!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page47">47</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>All along the Brazos River,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page337">337</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>All day long in the city's canyon-street,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page352">352</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>All hail, ye famous Farmers!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page565">565</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>All night long, by a distant bell</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page251">251</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page244">244</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page562">562</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>At dawn in silence moves the mighty stream,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page6">6</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>At sunset, when the rosy light was dying</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page13">13</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Children of the elemental mother,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page299">299</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Clam O! Fres' Clam!” How strange it sounds and sweet,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page553">553</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page558">558</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page120">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Come home, my love, come home!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page209">209</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Could every time-worn heart but see Thee once again,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page230">230</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Count not the cost of honour to the dead!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page311">311</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that wild night</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page447">447</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page437">437</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page289">289</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><i>Deeds not Words</i>: I say so too!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page276">276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Deep in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing;</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Do you give thanks for this?—or that?” No, God be thanked</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page224">224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Do you remember, father,—</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page24">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Does the snow fall at sea?</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page16">16</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="page578" id="page578" title="578"></a> + Ere thou sleepest gently lay</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page239">239</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Fair Phyllis is another's bride:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page554">554</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Fair Roslin Chapel, how divine</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Far richer than a thornless rose</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page280">280</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Flowers rejoice when night is done,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page9">9</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>For that thy face is fair I love thee not:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page172">172</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Four things a man must learn to do</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page277">277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>From the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendours of the moon,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page429">429</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Furl your sail, my little boatie:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page218">218</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Give us a name to fill the mind</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page385">385</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Glory of architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page464">464</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>God said, “I am tired of kings,”—</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page376">376</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Great Nature had a million words,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page466">466</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Hear a word that Jesus spake</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page83">83</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Heart of France for a hundred years,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page431">431</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Her eyes are like the evening air,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page186">186</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Here's a half-a-dozen flies,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page574">574</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Here the great heart of France,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page418">418</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Home, for my heart still calls me:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page397">397</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Honour the brave who sleep</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page157">157</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Hours fly,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page259">259</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>How blind the toil that burrows like the mole,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page428">428</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“How can I tell,” Sir Edmund said,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page158">158</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><i>How long is the night, brother,</i></td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page185">185</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>How long the echoes love to play</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page3">3</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>I count that friendship little worth</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page223">223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I envy every flower that blows</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page179">179</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I have no joy in strife,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page401">401</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I love thine inland seas,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page288">288</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I never seen no “red gods”; I dunno wot's a “lure”;</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page571">571</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I never thought again to hear</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page395">395</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I put my heart to school</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I read within a poet's book</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page217">217</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page196">196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>I would not even ask my heart to say</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page287">287</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>If all the skies were sunshine,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page12">12</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>If I have erred in showing all my heart,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page192">192</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page377">377</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="page579" id="page579" title="579"></a> + If on the closed curtain of my sight</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page242">242</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour and riches and confusion,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page434">434</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page269">269</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>In robes of Tynan blue the King was drest,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page142">142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>In the blue heaven the clouds will come and go,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page417">417</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>In the pleasant time of Pentecost,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page369">369</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Into the dust of the making of man,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page316">316</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>In warlike pomp, with banners flowing,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page14">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!)</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page125">125</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>It's little I can tell</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page173">173</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>It was my lot of late to travel far</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page412">412</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>“Joy is a Duty,”—so with golden lore</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page274">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page232">232</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Just to give up, and trust</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page231">231</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Knight-Errant of the Never-ending Quest,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page427">427</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Let me but do my work from day to day,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page166">166</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Let me but feel thy look's embrace,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page177">177</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Lights out” along the land,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page374">374</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page180">180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page270">270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Lord Jesus, Thou hast known</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page220">220</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Long ago Apollo called to Aristæus, youngest of the shepherds,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page129">129</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Long had I loved this “Attic shape,” the brede</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page268">268</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Long, long ago I heard a little song,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page249">249</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Long, long, long the trail</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page55">55</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Lover of beauty, walking on the height</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page423">423</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page554">554</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page234">234</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page421">421</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Not Dante when he wandered by the river Arno,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page552">552</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Not to the swift, the race:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page169">169</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Now in the oak the sap of life is welling,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page51">51</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>O dark the night and dim the day</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page402">402</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page308">308</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page364">364</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>O mighty river! strong, eternal Will,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page277">277</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="page580" id="page580" title="580"></a> + O Mother mountains! billowing far to the snow-lands,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page59">59</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>O Music hast thou only heard</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page378">378</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>O who will walk a mile with me</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page165">165</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>O wonderful! How liquid clear</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page57">57</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>O youngest of the giant brood</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page304">304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Oh, gallantly they fared forth in khaki and in blue,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page408">408</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Oh, quick to feel the lightest touch</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page439">439</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Oh, the angler's path is a very merry way,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page570">570</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Oh, was I born too soon, my dear, or were you born too late,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page175">175</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Oh, what do you know of the song, my dear,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page467">467</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page188">188</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Once, only once, I saw it clear,—</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page189">189</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>One sail in sight upon the lonely sea,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page292">292</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Only a little shrivelled seed,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page224">224</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Peace without Justice is a low estate,—</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page377">377</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Read here, O friend unknown,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page278">278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Remember, when the timid light</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page194">194</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Saints are God's flowers, fragrant souls</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page226">226</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page275">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Ship after ship, and every one with a high-resounding name,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page410">410</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Sign of the Love Divine</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page405">405</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Some three-score years and ten ago</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page555">555</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Soul of a soldier in a poet's frame,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page442">442</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page306">306</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Stand fast, Great Britain!</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page372">372</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>The British bard who looked on Eton's walls,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page330">330</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The clam that once, on Jersey's banks,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page551">551</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The cornerstone in Truth is laid,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page261">261</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The cradle I have made for thee</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page198">198</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The day returns by which we date our years:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page253">253</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The fire of love was burning, yet so low</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page243">243</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The gabled roofs of old Malines</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page381">381</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The glory of ships is an old, old song,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page388">388</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The grief that is but feigning,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page443">443</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The heavenly hills of Holland,—</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page67">67</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The laggard winter ebbed so slow</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page69">69</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The land was broken in despair,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page309">309</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The melancholy gift Aurora gained</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page426">426</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page29">29</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="page581" id="page581" title="581"></a> + The mountains that inclose the vale</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page170">170</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The nymphs a shepherd took</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page270">270</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The other night I had a dream, most clear</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page137">137</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The record of a faith sublime,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page430">430</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The river of dreams runs quietly down</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page210">210</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The roar of the city is low,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page301">301</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The rough expanse of democratic sea</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page404">404</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The shadow by my finger cast</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page263">263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The tide, flows in to the harbour,—</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page58">58</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The time will come when I no more can play</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page468">468</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The winds of war-news change and veer:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page399">399</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>The worlds in which we live at heart are one,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page274">274</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>There are many kinds of anger, as many kinds of fire:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page400">400</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page276">276</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>There are songs for the morning and songs for the night,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page53">53</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>There is a bird I know so well,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page387">387</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>This is the soldier brave enough to tell</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page313">313</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>This is the window's message,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page260">260</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page393">393</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page71">71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Through many a land your journey ran,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page182">182</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page314">314</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>To thee, plain hero of a rugged race,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page312">312</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Two dwellings, Peace, are thine</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page235">235</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Two hundred years of blessing I record</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page263">263</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>“Two things,” the wise man said, “fill me with awe:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page266">266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>'Twas far away and long ago,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page174">174</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Under the cloud of world-wide war,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page406">406</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Waking from tender sleep,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page248">248</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>We men that go down for a livin' in ships to the sea,—</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page151">151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>We met on Nature's stage,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page268">268</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>What hast thou done, O womanhood of France,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page384">384</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>What is Fortune, what is Fame?</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page279">279</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee?</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page61">61</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>What shall I give for thee,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page229">229</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>When down the stair at morning</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page178">178</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>When May bedecks the naked trees</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page33">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>When Stävoren town was in its prime</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page159">159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page246">246</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a class="pagebreak" name="page582" id="page582" title="582"></a> + When tulips bloom in Union Square,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page21">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>When to the garden of untroubled thought</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page171">171</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Where's your kingdom, little king?</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page41">41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Who knows how many thousand years ago</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page281">281</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page275">275</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Who watched the worn-out Winter die?</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page10">10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Winter on Mount Shasta,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page470">470</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>With eager heart and will on fire,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page225">225</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>With memories old and wishes new</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page264">264</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>With two bright eyes, my star, my love</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page271">271</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page425">425</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="letter"> + <td>Ye gods of battle, lords of fear,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page362">362</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Yes, it was like you to forget,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page183">183</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>You dare to say with perjured lips,</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page391">391</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>You only promised me a single hour:</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page193">193</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td>Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers;</td> + <td class="right"><a href="#page441">441</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Poems of Henry Van Dyke, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF HENRY VAN DYKE *** + +***** This file should be named 16229-h.htm or 16229-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/2/16229/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Daniel Emerson Griffith and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Poems of Henry Van Dyke + +Author: Henry Van Dyke + +Release Date: July 7, 2005 [EBook #16229] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF HENRY VAN DYKE *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Daniel Emerson Griffith and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +BY HENRY VAN DYKE + + Six Days of the Week + + Little Rivers + Fisherman's Luck + Days Off + Out-of-Doors in the Holy Land + + The Ruling Passion + The Blue Flower + The Unknown Quantity + The Valley of Vision + + Camp-Fires and Guide-Posts + Companionable Books + + Poems, Collection in one volume + + Songs out of Doors + Golden Stars + The Red Flower + The Grand Canyon, and Other Poems + The White Bees, and Other Poems + The Builders, and Other Poems + Music, and Other Poems + The Toiling of Felix, and Other Poems + The House of Rimmon + + Studies in Tennyson + Poems of Tennyson + Fighting for Peace + + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + + + + +THE POEMS OF + +HENRY VAN DYKE + + +A NEW AND REVISED EDITION +WITH MANY HITHERTO UNCOLLECTED + + +LONDON ARTHUR F. BIRD MCMXXV + +[From an edition:] +Printed by The Scribner Press, +New York, U.S.A. + + +Dedicated in Friendship to + +KATRINA TRASK + +AND + +JOHN HUSTON FINLEY + + + + +CONTENTS + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +EARLY VERSES + + The After-Echo + Dulciora + Three Alpine Sonnets + Matins + The Parting and the Coming Guest + If All the Skies + Wings of a Dove + The Fall of the Leaves + A Snow-Song + Roslin and Hawthornden + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +LATER POEMS + + When Tulips Bloom + The Whip-Poor-Will + The Lily of Yorrow + The Veery + The Song-Sparrow + The Maryland Yellow-Throat + A November Daisy + The Angler's Reveille + The Ruby-Crowned Kinglet + School + Indian Summer + Spring in the North + Spring in the South + A Noon Song + Light Between the Trees + The Hermit Thrush + Turn o' the Tide + Sierra Madre + The Grand Canyon + The Heavenly Hills of Holland + Flood-Tide of Flowers + God of the Open Air + + +NARRATIVE POEMS + + The Toiling of Felix + Vera + Another Chance + A Legend of Service + The White Bees + New Year's Eve + The Vain King + The Foolish Fir-Tree + "Gran' Boule" + Heroes of the "Titanic" + The Standard-Bearer + The Proud Lady + + +LABOUR AND ROMANCE + + A Mile with Me + The Three Best Things + Reliance + Doors of Daring + The Child in the Garden + Love's Reason + The Echo in the Heart + "Undine" + "Rencontre" + Love in a Look + My April Lady + A Lover's Envy + Fire-Fly City + The Gentle Traveller + Nepenthe + Day and Night + Hesper + Arrival + Departure + The Black Birds + Without Disguise + An Hour + "Rappelle-Toi" + Love's Nearness + Two Songs of Heine + Eight Echoes from the Poems of Auguste Angellier + Rappel d'Amour + The River of Dreams + + +HEARTH AND ALTAR + + A Home Song + "Little Boatie" + A Mother's Birthday + Transformation + Rendezvous + Gratitude + Peace + Santa Christina + The Bargain + To the Child Jesus + Bitter-Sweet + Hymn of Joy + Song of a Pilgrim-Soul + Ode to Peace + Three Prayers for Sleep and Waking + Portrait and Reality + The Wind of Sorrow + Hide and Seek + Autumn in the Garden + The Message + Dulcis Memoria + The Window + Christmas Tears + Dorothea, 1888-1912 + + +EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND INSCRIPTIONS + + For Katrina's Sun-Dial + For Katrina's Window + For the Friends at Hurstmont + The Sun-Dial at Morven + The Sun-Dial at Wells College + To Mark Twain + Stars and the Soul + To Julia Marlowe + To Joseph Jefferson + The Mocking-Bird + The Empty Quatrain + Pan Learns Music + The Shepherd of Nymphs + Echoes from the Greek Anthology + One World + Joy and Duty + The Prison and the Angel + The Way + Love and Light + _Facta non Verba_ + Four Things + The Great River + Inscription for a Tomb in England + The Talisman + Thorn and Rose + "The Signs" + + +PRO PATRIA + + Patria + America + The Ancestral Dwellings + Hudson's Last Voyage + Sea-Gulls of Manhattan + A Ballad of Claremont Hill + Urbs Coronata + Mercy for Armenia + Sicily, December, 1908 + "Come Back Again, Jeanne d'Arc" + National Monuments + The Monument of Francis Makemie + The Statue of Sherman by St. Gaudens + "America for Me" + The Builders + Spirit of the Everlasting Boy + Texas + Who Follow the Flag + Stain not the Sky + Peace-Hymn of the Republic + + +THE RED FLOWER AND GOLDEN STARS + + The Red Flower + A Scrap of Paper + Stand Fast + Lights Out + Remarks About Kings + Might and Right + The Price of Peace + Storm-Music + The Bells of Malines + Jeanne d'Arc Returns + The Name of France + America's Prosperity + The Glory of Ships + Mare Liberum + "Liberty Enlightening the World" + The Oxford Thrushes + Homeward Bound + The Winds of War-News + Righteous Wrath + The Peaceful Warrior + From Glory Unto Glory + Britain, France, America + The Red Cross + Easter Road + America's Welcome Home + The Surrender of the German Fleet + Golden Stars + In the Blue Heaven + A Shrine in the Pantheon + + +IN PRAISE OF POETS + + Mother Earth + Milton + Wordsworth + Keats + Shelley + Robert Browning + Tennyson + "In Memoriam" + Victor Hugo + Longfellow + Thomas Bailey Aldrich + Edmund Clarence Stedman + To James Whitcomb Riley + Richard Watson Gilder + The Valley of Vain Verses + + +MUSIC + + Music + Master of Music + The Pipes o' Pan + To a Young Girl Singing + The Old Flute + The First Bird o' Spring + + +THE HOUSE OF RIMMON + +A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS + + The House of Rimmon + Dramatis Personae + + +APPENDIX + +CARMINA FESTIVA + + The Little-Neck Clam + A Fairy Tale + The Ballad of the Solemn Ass + A Ballad of Santa Claus + Ars Agricolaris + Angler's Fireside Song + How Spring Comes to Shasta Jim + A Bunch of Trout-Flies + + +Index of First Lines + + + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +EARLY VERSES + + + +THE AFTER-ECHO + + + How long the echoes love to play + Around the shore of silence, as a wave + Retreating circles down the sand! + One after one, with sweet delay, + The mellow sounds that cliff and island gave, + Have lingered in the crescent bay, + Until, by lightest breezes fanned, + They float far off beyond the dying day + And leave it still as death. + But hark,-- + Another singing breath + Comes from the edge of dark; + A note as clear and slow + As falls from some enchanted bell, + Or spirit, passing from the world below, + That whispers back, Farewell. + + So in the heart, + When, fading slowly down the past, + Fond memories depart, + And each that leaves it seems the last; + Long after all the rest are flown, + Returns a solitary tone,-- + The after-echo of departed years,-- + And touches all the soul to tears. + +1871. + + + +DULCIORA + + + A tear that trembles for a little while + Upon the trembling eyelid, till the world + Wavers within its circle like a dream, + Holds more of meaning in its narrow orb + Than all the distant landscape that it blurs. + + A smile that hovers round a mouth beloved, + Like the faint pulsing of the Northern Light, + And grows in silence to an amber dawn + Born in the sweetest depths of trustful eyes, + Is dearer to the soul than sun or star. + + A joy that falls into the hollow heart + From some far-lifted height of love unseen, + Unknown, makes a more perfect melody + Than hidden brooks that murmur in the dusk, + Or fall athwart the cliff with wavering gleam. + + Ah, not for their own sake are earth and sky + And the fair ministries of Nature dear, + But as they set themselves unto the tune + That fills our life; as light mysterious + Flows from within and glorifies the world. + + For so a common wayside blossom, touched + With tender thought, assumes a grace more sweet + Than crowns the royal lily of the South; + And so a well-remembered perfume seems + The breath of one who breathes in Paradise. + +1872. + + + +THREE ALPINE SONNETS + + +I + +THE GLACIER + + At dawn in silence moves the mighty stream, + The silver-crested waves no murmur make; + But far away the avalanches wake + The rumbling echoes, dull as in a dream; + Their momentary thunders, dying, seem + To fall into the stillness, flake by flake, + And leave the hollow air with naught to break + The frozen spell of solitude supreme. + + At noon unnumbered rills begin to spring + Beneath the burning sun, and all the walls + Of all the ocean-blue crevasses ring + With liquid lyrics of their waterfalls; + As if a poet's heart had felt the glow + Of sovereign love, and song began to flow. + +Zermatt, 1872. + + +II + +THE SNOW-FIELD + + White Death had laid his pall upon the plain, + And crowned the mountain-peaks like monarchs dead; + The vault of heaven was glaring overhead + With pitiless light that filled my eyes with pain; + And while I vainly longed, and looked in vain + For sign or trace of life, my spirit said, + "Shall any living thing that dares to tread + This royal lair of Death escape again?" + + But even then I saw before my feet + A line of pointed footprints in the snow: + Some roving chamois, but an hour ago, + Had passed this way along his journey fleet, + And left a message from a friend unknown + To cheer my pilgrim-heart, no more alone. + +Zermatt, 1872. + + +III + +MOVING BELLS + + I love the hour that comes, with dusky hair + And dewy feet, along the Alpine dells, + To lead the cattle forth. A thousand bells + Go chiming after her across the fair + And flowery uplands, while the rosy flare + Of sunset on the snowy mountain dwells, + And valleys darken, and the drowsy spells + Of peace are woven through the purple air. + + Dear is the magic of this hour: she seems + To walk before the dark by falling rills, + And lend a sweeter song to hidden streams; + She opens all the doors of night, and fills + With moving bells the music of my dreams, + That wander far among the sleeping hills. + +Gstaad, August, 1909. + + + +MATINS + + + Flowers rejoice when night is done, + Lift their heads to greet the sun; + Sweetest looks and odours raise, + In a silent hymn of praise. + + So my heart would turn away + From the darkness to the day; + Lying open in God's sight + Like a flower in the light. + + + +THE PARTING AND THE COMING GUEST + + + Who watched the worn-out Winter die? + Who, peering through the window-pane + At nightfall, under sleet and rain + Saw the old graybeard totter by? + Who listened to his parting sigh, + The sobbing of his feeble breath, + His whispered colloquy with Death, + And when his all of life was done + Stood near to bid a last good-bye? + Of all his former friends not one + Saw the forsaken Winter die. + + Who welcomed in the maiden Spring? + Who heard her footfall, swift and light + As fairy-dancing in the night? + Who guessed what happy dawn would bring + The flutter of her bluebird's wing, + The blossom of her mayflower-face + To brighten every shady place? + One morning, down the village street, + "Oh, here am I," we heard her sing,-- + And none had been awake to greet + The coming of the maiden Spring. + + But look, her violet eyes are wet + With bright, unfallen, dewy tears; + And in her song my fancy hears + A note of sorrow trembling yet. + Perhaps, beyond the town, she met + Old Winter as he limped away + To die forlorn, and let him lay + His weary head upon her knee, + And kissed his forehead with regret + For one so gray and lonely,--see, + Her eyes with tender tears are wet. + + And so, by night, while we were all at rest, + I think the coming sped the parting guest. + +1873. + + + +IF ALL THE SKIES + + + If all the skies were sunshine, + Our faces would be fain + To feel once more upon them + The cooling plash of rain. + + If all the world were music, + Our hearts would often long + For one sweet strain of silence. + To break the endless song. + + If life were always merry, + Our souls would seek relief, + And rest from weary laughter + In the quiet arms of grief. + + + +WINGS OF A DOVE + + +I + + At sunset, when the rosy light was dying + Far down the pathway of the west, + I saw a lonely dove in silence flying, + To be at rest. + + Pilgrim of air, I cried, could I but borrow + Thy wandering wings, thy freedom blest, + I'd fly away from every careful sorrow, + And find my rest. + + +II + + But when the filmy veil of dusk was falling, + Home flew the dove to seek his nest, + Deep in the forest where his mate was calling + To love and rest. + + Peace, heart of mine! no longer sigh to wander; + Lose not thy life in barren quest. + There are no happy islands over yonder; + Come home and rest. + +1874. + + + +THE FALL OF THE LEAVES + + +I + + In warlike pomp, with banners flowing, + The regiments of autumn stood: + I saw their gold and scarlet glowing + From every hillside, every wood. + + Above the sea the clouds were keeping + Their secret leaguer, gray and still; + They sent their misty vanguard creeping + With muffled step from hill to hill. + + All day the sullen armies drifted + Athwart the sky with slanting rain; + At sunset for a space they lifted, + With dusk they settled down again. + + +II + + At dark the winds began to blow + With mutterings distant, low; + From sea and sky they called their strength + Till with an angry, broken roar, + Like billows on an unseen shore, + Their fury burst at length. + + I heard through the night + The rush and the clamour; + The pulse of the fight + Like blows of Thor's hammer; + The pattering flight + Of the leaves, and the anguished + Moan of the forest vanquished. + + At daybreak came a gusty song: + "Shout! the winds are strong. + The little people of the leaves are fled. + Shout! The Autumn is dead!" + + +III + + The storm is ended! The impartial sun + Laughs down upon the battle lost and won, + And crowns the triumph of the cloudy host + In rolling lines retreating to the coast. + + But we, fond lovers of the woodland shade, + And grateful friends of every fallen leaf, + Forget the glories of the cloud-parade, + And walk the ruined woods in quiet grief. + + For ever so our thoughtful hearts repeat + On fields of triumph dirges of defeat; + And still we turn on gala-days to tread + Among the rustling memories of the dead. + +1874. + + + +A SNOW-SONG + + + Does the snow fall at sea? + Yes, when the north winds blow, + When the wild clouds fly low, + Out of each gloomy wing, + Silently glimmering, + Over the stormy sea + Falleth the snow. + + Does the snow hide the sea? + Nay, on the tossing plains + Never a flake remains; + Drift never resteth there; + Vanishing everywhere, + Into the hungry sea + Falleth the snow. + + What means the snow at sea? + Whirled in the veering blast, + Thickly the flakes drive past; + Each like a childish ghost + Wavers, and then is lost; + In the forgetful sea + Fadeth the snow. + +1875. + + + +ROSLIN AND HAWTHORNDEN + + + Fair Roslin Chapel, how divine + The art that reared thy costly shrine! + Thy carven columns must have grown + By magic, like a dream in stone. + + Yet not within thy storied wall + Would I in adoration fall, + So gladly as within the glen + That leads to lovely Hawthornden. + + A long-drawn aisle, with roof of green + And vine-clad pillars, while between, + The Esk runs murmuring on its way, + In living music night and day. + + Within the temple of this wood + The martyrs of the covenant stood, + And rolled the psalm, and poured the prayer, + From Nature's solemn altar-stair. + +Edinburgh, 1877. + + + + +SONGS OUT OF DOORS + +LATER POEMS + + + +WHEN TULIPS BLOOM + + +I + + When tulips bloom in Union Square, + And timid breaths of vernal air + Go wandering down the dusty town, + Like children lost in Vanity Fair; + + When every long, unlovely row + Of westward houses stands aglow, + And leads the eyes to sunset skies + Beyond the hills where green trees grow; + + Then weary seems the street parade, + And weary books, and weary trade: + I'm only wishing to go a-fishing; + For this the month of May was made. + + +II + + I guess the pussy-willows now + Are creeping out on every bough + Along the brook; and robins look + For early worms behind the plough. + + The thistle-birds have changed their dun, + For yellow coats, to match the sun; + And in the same array of flame + The Dandelion Show's begun. + + The flocks of young anemones + Are dancing round the budding trees: + Who can help wishing to go a-fishing + In days as full of joy as these? + + +III + + I think the meadow-lark's clear sound + Leaks upward slowly from the ground, + While on the wing the bluebirds ring + Their wedding-bells to woods around. + + The flirting chewink calls his dear + Behind the bush; and very near, + Where water flows, where green grass grows, + Song-sparrows gently sing, "Good cheer." + + And, best of all, through twilight's calm + The hermit-thrush repeats his psalm. + How much I'm wishing to go a-fishing + In days so sweet with music's balm! + + +IV + + 'Tis not a proud desire of mine; + I ask for nothing superfine; + No heavy weight, no salmon great, + To break the record, or my line. + + Only an idle little stream, + Whose amber waters softly gleam, + Where I may wade through woodland shade, + And cast the fly, and loaf, and dream: + + Only a trout or two, to dart + From foaming pools, and try my art: + 'Tis all I'm wishing--old-fashioned fishing, + And just a day on Nature's heart. + +1894. + + + +THE WHIP-POOR-WILL + + + Do you remember, father,-- + It seems so long ago,-- + The day we fished together + Along the Pocono? + At dusk I waited for you, + Beside the lumber-mill, + And there I heard a hidden bird + That chanted, "whip-poor-will," + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + The place was all deserted; + The mill-wheel hung at rest; + The lonely star of evening + Was throbbing in the west; + The veil of night was falling; + The winds were folded still; + And everywhere the trembling air + Re-echoed "whip-poor-will!" + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + You seemed so long in coming, + I felt so much alone; + The wide, dark world was round me, + And life was all unknown; + The hand of sorrow touched me, + And made my senses thrill + With all the pain that haunts the strain + Of mournful whip-poor-will. + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + What knew I then of trouble? + An idle little lad, + I had not learned the lessons + That make men wise and sad. + I dreamed of grief and parting, + And something seemed to fill + My heart with tears, while in my ears + Resounded "whip-poor-will." + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + 'Twas but a cloud of sadness, + That lightly passed away; + But I have learned the meaning + Of sorrow, since that day. + For nevermore at twilight, + Beside the silent mill, + I'll wait for you, in the falling dew, + And hear the whip-poor-will. + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + Sad and shrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + + But if you still remember + In that fair land of light, + The pains and fears that touch us + Along this edge of night, + I think all earthly grieving, + And all our mortal ill, + To you must seem like a sad boy's dream. + Who hears the whip-poor-will. + "_Whippoorwill!_ _whippoorwill!_" + A passing thrill,--"_whippoorwill!_" + +1894. + + + +THE LILY OF YORROW + + + Deep in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing; + Blue is its cup as the sky, and with mystical odour o'erflowing; + Faintly it falls through the shadowy glades when the south wind is + blowing. + + Sweet are the primroses pale and the violets after a shower; + Sweet are the borders of pinks and the blossoming grapes on the bower; + Sweeter by far is the breath of that far-away woodland flower. + + Searching and strange in its sweetness, it steals like a perfume + enchanted + Under the arch of the forest, and all who perceive it are haunted, + Seeking and seeking for ever, till sight of the lily is granted. + + Who can describe how it grows, with its chalice of lazuli leaning + Over a crystalline spring, where the ferns and the mosses are greening? + Who can imagine its beauty, or utter the depth of its meaning? + + Calm of the journeying stars, and repose of the mountains olden, + Joy of the swift-running rivers, and glory of sunsets golden, + Secrets that cannot be told in the heart of the flower are holden. + + Surely to see it is peace and the crown of a life-long endeavour; + Surely to pluck it is gladness,--but they who have found it can never + Tell of the gladness and peace: they are hid from our vision for ever. + + 'Twas but a moment ago that a comrade was walking near me: + Turning aside from the pathway he murmured a greeting to cheer me,-- + Then he was lost in the shade, and I called but he did not hear me. + + Why should I dream he is dead, and bewail him with passionate sorrow? + Surely I know there is gladness in finding the lily of Yorrow: + He has discovered it first, and perhaps I shall find it to-morrow. + +1894. + + + +THE VEERY + + + The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring, + When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring. + So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie; + I longed to hear a simpler strain,--the wood-notes of the veery. + + The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather; + It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together; + He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie; + I only know one song more sweet,--the vespers of the veery. + + In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure, + I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure: + The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery, + And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery. + + But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing; + New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing: + And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary, + I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery. + +1895. + + + +THE SONG-SPARROW + + + There is a bird I know so well, + It seems as if he must have sung + Beside my crib when I was young; + Before I knew the way to spell + The name of even the smallest bird, + His gentle-joyful song I heard. + Now see if you can tell, my dear. + What bird it is that, every year, + Sings "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + He comes in March, when winds are strong, + And snow returns to hide the earth; + But still he warms his heart with mirth, + And waits for May. He lingers long + While flowers fade; and every day + Repeats his small, contented lay; + As if to say, we need not fear + The season's change, if love is here + With "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + He does not wear a Joseph's-coat + Of many colours, smart and gay; + His suit is Quaker brown and gray, + With darker patches at his throat. + And yet of all the well-dressed throng + Not one can sing so brave a song. + It makes the pride of looks appear + A vain and foolish thing, to hear + His "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + A lofty place he does not love, + But sits by choice, and well at ease, + In hedges, and in little trees + That stretch their slender arms above + The meadow-brook; and there he sings + Till all the field with pleasure rings; + And so he tells in every ear, + That lowly homes to heaven are near + In "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + + I like the tune, I like the words; + They seem so true, so free from art, + So friendly, and so full of heart, + That if but one of all the birds + Could be my comrade everywhere, + My little brother of the air, + I'd choose the song-sparrow, my dear, + Because he'd bless me, every year, + With "_Sweet--sweet--sweet--very merry cheer._" + +1895. + + + +THE MARYLAND YELLOW-THROAT + + + When May bedecks the naked trees + With tassels and embroideries, + And many blue-eyed violets beam + Along the edges of the stream, + I hear a voice that seems to say, + Now near at hand, now far away, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery._" + + An incantation so serene, + So innocent, befits the scene: + There's magic in that small bird's note-- + See, there he flits--the Yellow-throat; + A living sunbeam, tipped with wings, + A spark of light that shines and sings + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery._" + + You prophet with a pleasant name, + If out of Mary-land you came, + You know the way that thither goes + Where Mary's lovely garden grows: + Fly swiftly back to her, I pray, + And try to call her down this way, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + + Tell her to leave her cockle-shells, + And all her little silver bells + That blossom into melody, + And all her maids less fair than she. + She does not need these pretty things, + For everywhere she comes, she brings + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + + The woods are greening overhead, + And flowers adorn each mossy bed; + The waters babble as they run-- + One thing is lacking, only one: + If Mary were but here to-day, + I would believe your charming lay, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + + Along the shady road I look-- + Who's coming now across the brook? + A woodland maid, all robed in white-- + The leaves dance round her with delight, + The stream laughs out beneath her feet-- + Sing, merry bird, the charm's complete, + "_Witchery--witchery--witchery!_" + +1895. + + + +A NOVEMBER DAISY + + + Afterthought of summer's bloom! + Late arrival at the feast, + Coming when the songs have ceased + And the merry guests departed, + Leaving but an empty room, + Silence, solitude, and gloom,-- + Are you lonely, heavy-hearted; + You, the last of all your kind, + Nodding in the autumn-wind; + Now that all your friends are flown, + Blooming late and all alone? + + Nay, I wrong you, little flower, + Reading mournful mood of mine + In your looks, that give no sign + Of a spirit dark and cheerless! + You possess the heavenly power + That rejoices in the hour. + Glad, contented, free, and fearless, + Lift a sunny face to heaven + When a sunny day is given! + Make a summer of your own, + Blooming late and all alone! + + Once the daisies gold and white + Sea-like through the meadow rolled: + Once my heart could hardly hold + All its pleasures. I remember, + In the flood of youth's delight + Separate joys were lost to sight. + That was summer! Now November + Sets the perfect flower apart; + Gives each blossom of the heart + Meaning, beauty, grace unknown,-- + Blooming late and all alone. + +November, 1899. + + + +THE ANGLER'S REVEILLE + + + What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night, + And all the little watchman-stars have fallen asleep in light, + 'Tis then a merry wind awakes, and runs from tree to tree, + And borrows words from all the birds to sound the reveille. + + This is the carol the Robin throws + Over the edge of the valley; + Listen how boldly it flows, + Sally on sally: + _Tirra-lirra, + Early morn, + New born! + Day is near, + Clear, clear. + Down the river + All a-quiver, + Fish are breaking; + Time for waking, + Tup, tup, tup! + Do you hear? + All clear-- + Wake up!_ + + The phantom flood of dreams has ebbed and vanished with the dark, + And like a dove the heart forsakes the prison of the ark; + Now forth she fares thro' friendly woods and diamond-fields of dew, + While every voice cries out "Rejoice!" as if the world were new. + + This is the ballad the Bluebird sings, + Unto his mate replying, + Shaking the tune from his wings + While he is flying: + _Surely, surely, surely, + Life is dear + Even here. + Blue above, + You to love, + Purely, purely, purely._ + + There's wild azalea on the hill, and iris down the dell, + And just one spray of lilac still abloom beside the well; + The columbine adorns the rocks, the laurel buds grow pink, + Along the stream white arums gleam, and violets bend to drink. + + This is the song of the Yellow-throat, + Fluttering gaily beside you; + Hear how each voluble note + Offers to guide you: + _Which way, sir? + I say, sir, + Let me teach you, + I beseech you! + Are you wishing + Jolly fishing? + This way, sir! + I'll teach you._ + + Then come, my friend, forget your foes and leave your fears behind, + And wander forth to try your luck, with cheerful, quiet mind; + For be your fortune great or small, you take what God will give, + And all the day your heart will say, "'Tis luck enough to live." + + This is the song the Brown Thrush flings + Out of his thicket of roses; + Hark how it bubbles and rings, + Mark how it closes: + _Luck, luck, + What luck? + Good enough for me, + I'm alive, you see! + Sun shining, + No repining; + Never borrow + Idle sorrow; + Drop it! + Cover it up! + Hold your cup! + Joy will fill it, + Don't spill it, + Steady, be ready, + Good luck!_ + +1899. + + + +THE RUBY-CROWNED KINGLET + + +I + + Where's your kingdom, little king? + Where the land you call your own, + Where your palace and your throne? + Fluttering lightly on the wing + Through the blossom-world of May, + Whither lies your royal way, + Little king? + + _Far to northward lies a land + Where the trees together stand + Closely as the blades of wheat + When the summer is complete. + Rolling like an ocean wide + Over vale and mountainside, + Balsam, hemlock, spruce and pine,-- + All those mighty trees are mine. + There's a river flowing free,-- + All its waves belong to me. + There's a lake so clear and bright + Stars shine out of it all night; + Rowan-berries round it spread + Like a belt of coral red. + Never royal garden planned + Fair as my Canadian land! + There I build my summer nest, + There I reign and there I rest, + While from dawn to dark I sing, + Happy kingdom! Lucky king!_ + + +II + + Back again, my little king! + Is your happy kingdom lost + To the rebel knave, Jack Frost? + Have you felt the snow-flakes sting? + Houseless, homeless in October, + Whither now? Your plight is sober, + Exiled king! + + _Far to southward lie the regions + Where my loyal flower-legions + Hold possession of the year, + Filling every month with cheer. + Christmas wakes the winter rose; + New Year daffodils unclose; + Yellow jasmine through the wood + Flows in February flood, + Dropping from the tallest trees + Golden streams that never freeze. + Thither now I take my flight + Down the pathway of the night, + Till I see the southern moon + Glisten on the broad lagoon, + Where the cypress' dusky green, + And the dark magnolia's sheen, + Weave a shelter round my home. + There the snow-storms never come; + There the bannered mosses gray + Like a curtain gently sway, + Hanging low on every side + Round the covert where I bide, + Till the March azalea glows, + Royal red and heavenly rose, + Through the Carolina glade + Where my winter home is made. + There I hold my southern court, + Full of merriment and sport: + There I take my ease and sing, + Happy kingdom! Lucky king!_ + + +III + + Little boaster, vagrant king, + Neither north nor south is yours, + You've no kingdom that endures! + Wandering every fall and spring, + With your ruby crown so slender, + Are you only a Pretender, + Landless king? + + _Never king by right divine + Ruled a richer realm than mine! + What are lands and golden crowns, + Armies, fortresses and towns, + Jewels, sceptres, robes and rings,-- + What are these to song and wings? + Everywhere that I can fly, + There I own the earth and sky; + Everywhere that I can sing. + There I'm happy as a king._ + +1900. + + + +SCHOOL + + + I put my heart to school + In the world where men grow wise: + "Go out," I said, "and learn the rule; + Come back when you win a prize." + + My heart came back again: + "Now where is the prize?" I cried.-- + "The rule was false, and the prize was pain, + And the teacher's name was Pride." + + I put my heart to school + In the woods where veeries sing + And brooks run clear and cool, + In the fields where wild flowers spring. + + "And why do you stay so long + My heart, and where do you roam?" + The answer came with a laugh and a song,-- + "I find this school is home." + +April, 1901. + + + +INDIAN SUMMER + + + A silken curtain veils the skies, + And half conceals from pensive eyes + The bronzing tokens of the fall; + A calmness broods upon the hills, + And summer's parting dream distils + A charm of silence over all. + + The stacks of corn, in brown array, + Stand waiting through the tranquil day, + Like tattered wigwams on the plain; + The tribes that find a shelter there + Are phantom peoples, forms of air, + And ghosts of vanished joy and pain. + + At evening when the crimson crest + Of sunset passes down the West, + I hear the whispering host returning; + On far-off fields, by elm and oak, + I see the lights, I smell the smoke,-- + The Camp-fires of the Past are burning. + +_Tertius and Henry van Dyke._ + +November, 1903. + + + +SPRING IN THE NORTH + + +I + + Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, + Why the sweet Spring delays, + And where she hides,--the dear desire + Of every heart that longs + For bloom, and fragrance, and the ruby fire + Of maple-buds along the misty hills, + And that immortal call which fills + The waiting wood with songs? + The snow-drops came so long ago, + It seemed that Spring was near! + But then returned the snow + With biting winds, and earth grew sere, + And sullen clouds drooped low + To veil the sadness of a hope deferred: + Then rain, rain, rain, incessant rain + Beat on the window-pane, + Through which I watched the solitary bird + That braved the tempest, buffeted and tossed + With rumpled feathers down the wind again. + Oh, were the seeds all lost + When winter laid the wild flowers in their tomb? + I searched the woods in vain + For blue hepaticas, and trilliums white, + And trailing arbutus, the Spring's delight, + Starring the withered leaves with rosy bloom. + But every night the frost + To all my longing spoke a silent nay, + And told me Spring was far away. + Even the robins were too cold to sing, + Except a broken and discouraged note,-- + Only the tuneful sparrow, on whose throat + Music has put her triple finger-print, + Lifted his head and sang my heart a hint,-- + "Wait, wait, wait! oh, wait a while for Spring!" + + +II + + But now, Carina, what divine amends + For all delay! What sweetness treasured up, + What wine of joy that blends + A hundred flavours in a single cup, + Is poured into this perfect day! + For look, sweet heart, here are the early flowers + That lingered on their way, + Thronging in haste to kiss the feet of May, + Entangled with the bloom of later hours,-- + Anemones and cinque-foils, violets blue + And white, and iris richly gleaming through + The grasses of the meadow, and a blaze + Of butter-cups and daisies in the field, + Filling the air with praise, + As if a chime of golden bells had pealed! + The frozen songs within the breast + Of silent birds that hid in leafless woods, + Melt into rippling floods + Of gladness unrepressed. + Now oriole and bluebird, thrush and lark, + Warbler and wren and vireo, + Mingle their melody; the living spark + Of Love has touched the fuel of desire, + And every heart leaps up in singing fire. + It seems as if the land + Were breathing deep beneath the sun's caress, + Trembling with tenderness, + While all the woods expand, + In shimmering clouds of rose and gold and green, + To veil a joy too sacred to be seen. + + +III + + Come, put your hand in mine, + True love, long sought and found at last, + And lead me deep into the Spring divine + That makes amends for all the wintry past. + For all the flowers and songs I feared to miss + Arrive with you; + And in the lingering pressure of your kiss + My dreams come true; + And in the promise of your generous eyes + I read the mystic sign + Of joy more perfect made + Because so long delayed, + And bliss enhanced by rapture of surprise. + Ah, think not early love alone is strong; + He loveth best whose heart has learned to wait: + Dear messenger of Spring that tarried long, + You're doubly dear because you come so late. + + + +SPRING IN THE SOUTH + + + Now in the oak the sap of life is welling, + Tho' to the bough the rusty leafage clings; + Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling; + Every little pine-wood grows alive with wings; + Blue-jays are fluttering, yodeling and crying, + Meadow-larks sailing low above the faded grass, + Red-birds whistling clear, silent robins flying,-- + Who has waked the birds up? What has come to pass? + + Last year's cotton-plants, desolately bowing, + Tremble in the March-wind, ragged and forlorn; + Red are the hillsides of the early ploughing, + Gray are the lowlands, waiting for the corn. + Earth seems asleep, but she is only feigning; + Deep in her bosom thrills a sweet unrest; + Look where the jasmine lavishly is raining + Jove's golden shower into Danaee's breast! + + Now on the plum-tree a snowy bloom is sifted, + Now on the peach-tree, the glory of the rose, + Far o'er the hills a tender haze is drifted, + Full to the brim the yellow river flows. + Dark cypress boughs with vivid jewels glisten, + Greener than emeralds shining in the sun. + Whence comes the magic? Listen, sweetheart, listen! + The mocking-bird is singing: Spring is begun. + + Hark, in his song no tremor of misgiving! + All of his heart he pours into his lay,-- + "Love, love, love, and pure delight of living: + Winter is forgotten: here's a happy day!" + Fair in your face I read the flowery presage, + Snowy on your brow and rosy on your mouth: + Sweet in your voice I hear the season's message,-- + Love, love, love, and Spring in the South! + +1904. + + + +A NOON SONG + + + There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, + For sunrise and sunset, the stars and the moon; + But who will give praise to the fulness of light, + And sing us a song of the glory of noon? + Oh, the high noon, the clear noon, + The noon with golden crest; + When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns + With his face to the way of the west! + + How swiftly he rose in the dawn of his strength! + How slowly he crept as the morning wore by! + Ah, steep was the climbing that led him at length + To the height of his throne in the wide summer sky. + Oh, the long toil, the slow toil, + The toil that may not rest, + Till the sun looks down from his journey's crown, + To the wonderful way of the west! + + Then a quietness falls over meadow and hill, + The wings of the wind in the forest are furled, + The river runs softly, the birds are all still, + The workers are resting all over the world. + Oh, the good hour, the kind hour, + The hour that calms the breast! + Little inn half-way on the road of the day, + Where it follows the turn to the west! + + There's a plentiful feast in the maple-tree shade, + The lilt of a song to an old-fashioned tune, + The talk of a friend, or the kiss of a maid, + To sweeten the cup that we drink to the noon. + Oh, the deep noon, the full noon, + Of all the day the best! + When the blue sky burns, and the great sun turns + To his home by the way of the west! + +1906. + + + +LIGHT BETWEEN THE TREES + + + Long, long, long the trail + Through the brooding forest-gloom, + Down the shadowy, lonely vale + Into silence, like a room + Where the light of life has fled, + And the jealous curtains close + Round the passionless repose + Of the silent dead. + + Plod, plod, plod away, + Step by step in mouldering moss; + Thick branches bar the day + Over languid streams that cross + Softly, slowly, with a sound + Like a smothered weeping, + In their aimless creeping + Through enchanted ground. + + "Yield, yield, yield thy quest," + Whispers through the woodland deep; + "Come to me and be at rest; + I am slumber, I am sleep." + Then the weary feet would fail, + But the never-daunted will + Urges "Forward, forward still! + Press along the trail!" + + Breast, breast, breast the slope + See, the path is growing steep. + Hark! a little song of hope + Where the stream begins to leap. + Though the forest, far and wide, + Still shuts out the bending blue, + We shall finally win through, + Cross the long divide. + + On, on, on we tramp! + Will the journey never end? + Over yonder lies the camp; + Welcome waits us there, my friend. + Can we reach it ere the night? + Upward, upward, never fear! + Look, the summit must be near; + See the line of light! + + Red, red, red the shine + Of the splendour in the west, + Glowing through the ranks of pine, + Clear along the mountain-crest! + Long, long, long the trail + Out of sorrow's lonely vale; + But at last the traveller sees + Light between the trees! + +March, 1904. + + + +THE HERMIT THRUSH + + + O wonderful! How liquid clear + The molten gold of that ethereal tone, + Floating and falling through the wood alone, + A hermit-hymn poured out for God to hear! + + _O holy, holy, holy! Hyaline, + Long light, low light, glory of eventide! + Love far away, far up,--up,--love divine! + Little love, too, for ever, ever near, + Warm love, earth love, tender love of mine, + In the leafy dark where you hide, + You are mine,--mine,--mine!_ + + Ah, my beloved, do you feel with me + The hidden virtue of that melody, + The rapture and the purity of love, + The heavenly joy that can not find the word? + Then, while we wait again to hear the bird, + Come very near to me, and do not move,-- + Now, hermit of the woodland, fill anew + The cool, green cup of air with harmony, + And we will drink the wine of love with you. + +May, 1908. + + + +TURN O' THE TIDE + + + The tide flows in to the harbour,-- + The bold tide, the gold tide, the flood o' the sunlit sea,-- + And the little ships riding at anchor, + Are swinging and slanting their prows to the ocean, panting + To lift their wings to the wide wild air, + And venture a voyage they know not where,-- + To fly away and be free! + + The tide runs out of the harbour,-- + The low tide, the slow tide, the ebb o' the moonlit bay,-- + And the little ships rocking at anchor, + Are rounding and turning their bows to the landward, yearning + To breathe the breath of the sun-warmed strand, + To rest in the lee of the high hill land,-- + To hold their haven and stay! + + My heart goes round with the vessels,-- + My wild heart, my child heart, in love with the sea and the land,-- + And the turn o' the tide passes through it, + In rising and falling with mystical currents, calling + At morn, to range where the far waves foam, + At night, to a harbour in love's true home, + With the hearts that understand! + +Seal Harbour, August 12, 1911. + + + +SIERRA MADRE + + + O Mother mountains! billowing far to the snow-lands, + Robed in aerial amethyst, silver, and blue, + Why do ye look so proudly down on the lowlands? + What have their groves and gardens to do with you? + + Theirs is the languorous charm of the orange and myrtle, + Theirs are the fruitage and fragrance of Eden of old,-- + Broad-boughed oaks in the meadows fair and fertile, + Dark-leaved orchards gleaming with globes of gold. + + You, in your solitude standing, lofty and lonely, + Bear neither garden nor grove on your barren breasts; + Rough is the rock-loving growth of your canyons, and only + Storm-battered pines and fir-trees cling to your crests. + + Why are ye throned so high, and arrayed in splendour + Richer than all the fields at your feet can claim? + What is your right, ye rugged peaks, to the tender + Queenly promise and pride of the mother-name? + + Answered the mountains, dim in the distance dreaming: + "Ours are the forests that treasure the riches of rain; + Ours are the secret springs and the rivulets gleaming + Silverly down through the manifold bloom of the plain. + + "Vain were the toiling of men in the dust of the dry land, + Vain were the ploughing and planting in waterless fields, + Save for the life-giving currents we send from the sky-land, + Save for the fruit our embrace with the storm-cloud yields." + + O mother mountains, Madre Sierra, I love you! + Rightly you reign o'er the vale that your bounty fills-- + Kissed by the sun, or with big, bright stars above you,-- + I murmur your name and lift up mine eyes to the hills. + +Pasadena, March, 1913. + + + +THE GRAND CANYON + +DAYBREAK + + + What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee? + Thou vast, profound, primeval hiding-place + Of ancient secrets,--gray and ghostly gulf + Cleft in the green of this high forest land, + And crowded in the dark with giant forms! + Art thou a grave, a prison, or a shrine? + + A stillness deeper than the dearth of sound + Broods over thee: a living silence breathes + Perpetual incense from thy dim abyss. + The morning-stars that sang above the bower + Of Eden, passing over thee, are dumb + With trembling bright amazement; and the Dawn + Steals through the glimmering pines with naked feet, + Her hand upon her lips, to look on thee! + She peers into thy depths with silent prayer + For light, more light, to part thy purple veil. + O Earth, swift-rolling Earth, reveal, reveal,-- + Turn to the East, and show upon thy breast + The mightiest marvel in the realm of Time! + + 'Tis done,--the morning miracle of light,-- + The resurrection of the world of hues + That die with dark, and daily rise again + With every rising of the splendid Sun! + + Be still, my heart! Now Nature holds her breath + To see the solar flood of radiance leap + Across the chasm, and crown the western rim + Of alabaster with a far-away + Rampart of pearl, and flowing down by walls + Of changeful opal, deepen into gold + Of topaz, rosy gold of tourmaline, + Crimson of garnet, green and gray of jade, + Purple of amethyst, and ruby red, + Beryl, and sard, and royal porphyry; + Until the cataract of colour breaks + Upon the blackness of the granite floor. + + How far below! And all between is cleft + And carved into a hundred curving miles + Of unimagined architecture! Tombs, + Temples, and colonnades are neighboured there + By fortresses that Titans might defend, + And amphitheatres where Gods might strive. + Cathedrals, buttressed with unnumbered tiers + Of ruddy rock, lift to the sapphire sky + A single spire of marble pure as snow; + And huge aerial palaces arise + Like mountains built of unconsuming flame. + Along the weathered walls, or standing deep + In riven valleys where no foot may tread, + Are lonely pillars, and tall monuments + Of perished aeons and forgotten things. + My sight is baffled by the wide array + Of countless forms: my vision reels and swims + Above them, like a bird in whirling winds. + Yet no confusion fills the awful chasm; + But spacious order and a sense of peace + Brood over all. For every shape that looms + Majestic in the throng, is set apart + From all the others by its far-flung shade, + Blue, blue, as if a mountain-lake were there. + + How still it is! Dear God, I hardly dare + To breathe, for fear the fathomless abyss + Will draw me down into eternal sleep. + + What force has formed this masterpiece of awe? + What hands have wrought these wonders in the waste? + O river, gleaming in the narrow rift + Of gloom that cleaves the valley's nether deep,-- + Fierce Colorado, prisoned by thy toil, + And blindly toiling still to reach the sea,-- + Thy waters, gathered from the snows and springs + Amid the Utah hills, have carved this road + Of glory to the Californian Gulf. + But now, O sunken stream, thy splendour lost, + 'Twixt iron walls thou rollest turbid waves, + Too far away to make their fury heard! + + At sight of thee, thou sullen labouring slave + Of gravitation,--yellow torrent poured + From distant mountains by no will of thine, + Through thrice a hundred centuries of slow + Fallings and liftings of the crust of Earth,-- + At sight of thee my spirit sinks and fails. + Art thou alone the Maker? Is the blind + Unconscious power that drew thee dumbly down + To cut this gash across the layered globe, + The sole creative cause of all I see? + Are force and matter all? The rest a dream? + + Then is thy gorge a canyon of despair, + A prison for the soul of man, a grave + Of all his dearest daring hopes! The world + Wherein we live and move is meaningless, + No spirit here to answer to our own! + The stars without a guide: The chance-born Earth + Adrift in space, no Captain on the ship: + Nothing in all the universe to prove + Eternal wisdom and eternal love! + And man, the latest accident of Time,-- + Who thinks he loves, and longs to understand, + Who vainly suffers, and in vain is brave, + Who dupes his heart with immortality,-- + Man is a living lie,--a bitter jest + Upon himself,--a conscious grain of sand + Lost in a desert of unconsciousness, + Thirsting for God and mocked by his own thirst. + + Spirit of Beauty, mother of delight, + Thou fairest offspring of Omnipotence + Inhabiting this lofty lone abode, + Speak to my heart again and set me free + From all these doubts that darken earth and heaven! + Who sent thee forth into the wilderness + To bless and comfort all who see thy face? + Who clad thee in this more than royal robe + Of rainbows? Who designed these jewelled thrones + For thee, and wrought these glittering palaces? + Who gave thee power upon the soul of man + To lift him up through wonder into joy? + God! let the radiant cliffs bear witness, God! + Let all the shining pillars signal, God! + He only, on the mystic loom of light. + Hath woven webs of loveliness to clothe + His most majestic works: and He alone + Hath delicately wrought the cactus-flower + To star the desert floor with rosy bloom. + + O Beauty, handiwork of the Most High, + Where'er thou art He tells his Love to man, + And lo, the day breaks, and the shadows flee! + + Now, far beyond all language and all art + In thy wild splendour, Canyon marvellous, + The secret of thy stillness lies unveiled + In wordless worship! This is holy ground; + Thou art no grave, no prison, but a shrine. + Garden of Temples filled with Silent Praise, + If God were blind thy Beauty could not be! + +February 24-26, 1913. + + + +THE HEAVENLY HILLS OF HOLLAND + + + The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + How wondrously they rise + Above the smooth green pastures + Into the azure skies! + With blue and purple hollows, + With peaks of dazzling snow, + Along the far horizon + The clouds are marching slow. + + No mortal foot has trodden + The summits of that range, + Nor walked those mystic valleys + Whose colours ever change; + Yet we possess their beauty, + And visit them in dreams, + While ruddy gold of sunset + From cliff and canyon gleams. + + In days of cloudless weather + They melt into the light; + When fog and mist surround us + They're hidden from our sight; + But when returns a season + Clear shining after rain, + While the northwest wind is blowing, + We see the hills again. + + The old Dutch painters loved them, + Their pictures show them fair,-- + Old Hobbema and Ruysdael, + Van Goyen and Vermeer. + Above the level landscape, + Rich polders, long-armed mills, + Canals and ancient cities,-- + Float Holland's heavenly hills. + +The Hague, November, 1916. + + + +FLOOD-TIDE OF FLOWERS + +IN HOLLAND + + + The laggard winter ebbed so slow + With freezing rain and melting snow, + It seemed as if the earth would stay + Forever where the tide was low, + In sodden green and watery gray. + + But now from depths beyond our sight, + The tide is turning in the night, + And floods of colour long concealed + Come silent rising toward the light, + Through garden bare and empty field. + + And first, along the sheltered nooks, + The crocus runs in little brooks + Of joyance, till by light made bold + They show the gladness of their looks + In shining pools of white and gold. + + The tiny scilla, sapphire blue, + Is gently seeping in, to strew + The earth with heaven; and sudden rills + Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through, + Spread into lakes of daffodils. + + The hyacinths, with fragrant heads, + Have overflowed their sandy beds, + And fill the earth with faint perfume, + The breath that Spring around her sheds. + And now the tulips break in bloom! + + A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea, + A splendour and a mystery, + Floods o'er the fields of faded gray: + The roads are full of folks in glee, + For lo,--to-day is Easter Day! + +April, 1916. + + + +ODE + +GOD OF THE OPEN AIR + + +I + + Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair + With flowers below, above with starry lights + And set thine altars everywhere,-- + On mountain heights, + In woodlands dim with many a dream, + In valleys bright with springs, + And on the curving capes of every stream: + Thou who hast taken to thyself the wings + Of morning, to abide + Upon the secret places of the sea, + And on far islands, where the tide + Visits the beauty of untrodden shores, + Waiting for worshippers to come to thee + In thy great out-of-doors! + To thee I turn, to thee I make my prayer, + God of the open air. + + +II + + Seeking for thee, the heart of man + Lonely and longing ran, + In that first, solitary hour, + When the mysterious power + To know and love the wonder of the morn + Was breathed within him, and his soul was born; + And thou didst meet thy child, + Not in some hidden shrine, + But in the freedom of the garden wild, + And take his hand in thine,-- + There all day long in Paradise he walked, + And in the cool of evening with thee talked. + + +III + + Lost, long ago, that garden bright and pure, + Lost, that calm day too perfect to endure, + And lost the child-like love that worshipped and was sure! + For men have dulled their eyes with sin, + And dimmed the light of heaven with doubt, + And built their temple walls to shut thee in, + And framed their iron creeds to shut thee out. + But not for thee the closing of the door, + O Spirit unconfined! + Thy ways are free + As is the wandering wind, + And thou hast wooed thy children, to restore + Their fellowship with thee, + In peace of soul and simpleness of mind. + + +IV + + Joyful the heart that, when the flood rolled by, + Leaped up to see the rainbow in the sky; + And glad the pilgrim, in the lonely night, + For whom the hills of Haran, tier on tier, + Built up a secret stairway to the height + Where stars like angel eyes were shining clear. + From mountain-peaks, in many a land and age, + Disciples of the Persian seer + Have hailed the rising sun and worshipped thee; + And wayworn followers of the Indian sage + Have found the peace of God beneath a spreading tree. + + +V + + But One, but One,--ah, Son most dear, + And perfect image of the Love Unseen,-- + Walked every day in pastures green, + And all his life the quiet waters by, + Reading their beauty with a tranquil eye. + To him the desert was a place prepared + For weary hearts to rest; + The hillside was a temple blest; + The grassy vale a banquet-room + Where he could feed and comfort many a guest. + With him the lily shared + The vital joy that breathes itself in bloom; + And every bird that sang beside the nest + Told of the love that broods o'er every living thing. + He watched the shepherd bring + His flock at sundown to the welcome fold, + The fisherman at daybreak fling + His net across the waters gray and cold, + And all day long the patient reaper swing + His curving sickle through the harvest-gold. + So through the world the foot-path way he trod, + Breathing the air of heaven in every breath; + And in the evening sacrifice of death + Beneath the open sky he gave his soul to God. + Him will I trust, and for my Master take; + Him will I follow; and for his dear sake, + God of the open air, + To thee I make my prayer. + + +VI + + From the prison of anxious thought that greed has builded, + From the fetters that envy has wrought and pride has gilded, + From the noise of the crowded ways and the fierce confusion, + From the folly that wastes its days in a world of illusion, + (Ah, but the life is lost that frets and languishes there!) + I would escape and be free in the joy of the open air. + + By the breadth of the blue that shines in silence o'er me, + By the length of the mountain-lines that stretch before me, + By the height of the cloud that sails, with rest in motion, + Over the plains and the vales to the measureless ocean, + (Oh, how the sight of the greater things enlarges the eyes!) + Draw me away from myself to the peace of the hills and skies. + + While the tremulous leafy haze on the woodland is spreading, + And the bloom on the meadow betrays where May has been treading; + While the birds on the branches above, and the brooks flowing under, + Are singing together of love in a world full of wonder, + (Lo, in the magic of Springtime, dreams are changed into truth!) + Quicken my heart, and restore the beautiful hopes of youth. + + By the faith that the wild-flowers show when they bloom unbidden, + By the calm of the river's flow to a goal that is hidden, + By the strength of the tree that clings to its deep foundation, + By the courage of birds' light wings on the long migration, + (Wonderful spirit of trust that abides in Nature's breast!) + Teach me how to confide, and live my life, and rest. + + For the comforting warmth of the sun that my body embraces, + For the cool of the waters that run through the shadowy places, + For the balm of the breezes that brush my face with their fingers, + For the vesper-hymn of the thrush when the twilight lingers, + For the long breath, the deep breath, the breath of a heart without + care,-- + I will give thanks and adore thee, God of the open air! + + +VII + + These are the gifts I ask + Of thee, Spirit serene: + Strength for the daily task, + Courage to face the road, + Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load, + And, for the hours of rest that come between, + An inward joy in all things heard and seen. + These are the sins I fain + Would have thee take away: + Malice, and cold disdain, + Hot anger, sullen hate, + Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great, + And discontent that casts a shadow gray + On all the brightness of the common day. + These are the things I prize + And hold of dearest worth: + Light of the sapphire skies, + Peace of the silent hills, + Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass, + Music of birds, murmur of little rills, + Shadows of cloud that swiftly pass, + And, after showers, + The smell of flowers + And of the good brown earth,-- + And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth. + So let me keep + These treasures of the humble heart + In true possession, owning them by love; + And when at last I can no longer move + Among them freely, but must part + From the green fields and from the waters clear, + Let me not creep + Into some darkened room and hide + From all that makes the world so bright and dear; + But throw the windows wide + To welcome in the light; + And while I clasp a well-beloved hand, + Let me once more have sight + Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land,-- + Then gently fall on sleep, + And breathe my body back to Nature's care, + My spirit out to thee, God of the open air. + +1904. + + + + +NARRATIVE POEMS + + + +THE TOILING OF FELIX + +A LEGEND ON A NEW SAYING OF JESUS + + +In the rubbish heaps of the ancient city of Oxyrhynchus, near the +River Nile, a party of English explorers, in the winter of 1897, +discovered a fragment of a papyrus book, written in the second or +third century, and hitherto unknown. This single leaf contained +parts of seven short sentences of Christ, each introduced by the +words, "Jesus says." It is to the fifth of these Sayings of Jesus +that the following poem refers. + + + +THE TOILING OF FELIX + + +I + +PRELUDE + + Hear a word that Jesus spake + Nineteen hundred years ago, + Where the crimson lilies blow + Round the blue Tiberian lake: + There the bread of life He brake, + Through the fields of harvest walking + With His lowly comrades, talking + Of the secret thoughts that feed + Weary souls in time of need. + Art thou hungry? Come and take; + Hear the word that Jesus spake! + 'Tis the sacrament of labour, bread and wine divinely blest; + Friendship's food and sweet refreshment, strength and courage, joy and + rest. + + But this word the Master said + Long ago and far away, + Silent and forgotten lay + Buried with the silent dead, + Where the sands of Egypt spread + Sea-like, tawny billows heaping + Over ancient cities sleeping, + While the River Nile between + Rolls its summer flood of green + Rolls its autumn flood of red: + There the word the Master said, + Written on a frail papyrus, wrinkled, scorched by fire, and torn, + Hidden by God's hand was waiting for its resurrection morn. + + Now at last the buried word + By the delving spade is found, + Sleeping in the quiet ground. + Now the call of life is heard: + Rise again, and like a bird, + Fly abroad on wings of gladness + Through the darkness and the sadness, + Of the toiling age, and sing + Sweeter than the voice of Spring, + Till the hearts of men are stirred + By the music of the word,-- + Gospel for the heavy-laden, answer to the labourer's cry: + "_Raise the stone, and thou shall find me; cleave the wood and there + am I._" + + +II + +LEGEND + + Brother-men who look for Jesus, long to see Him close and clear, + Hearken to the tale of Felix, how he found the Master near. + + Born in Egypt, 'neath the shadow of the crumbling gods of night, + He forsook the ancient darkness, turned his young heart toward the Light. + + Seeking Christ, in vain he waited for the vision of the Lord; + Vainly pondered many volumes where the creeds of men were stored; + + Vainly shut himself in silence, keeping vigil night and day; + Vainly haunted shrines and churches where the Christians came to pray. + + One by one he dropped the duties of the common life of care, + Broke the human ties that bound him, laid his spirit waste and bare, + + Hoping that the Lord would enter that deserted dwelling-place, + And reward the loss of all things with the vision of His face. + + Still the blessed vision tarried; still the light was unrevealed; + Still the Master, dim and distant, kept His countenance concealed. + + Fainter grew the hope of finding, wearier grew the fruitless quest; + Prayer and penitence and fasting gave no comfort, brought no rest. + + Lingering in the darkened temple, ere the lamp of faith went out, + Felix knelt before the altar, lonely, sad, and full of doubt. + + "Hear me, O my Lord and Master," from the altar-step he cried, + "Let my one desire be granted, let my hope be satisfied! + + "Only once I long to see Thee, in the fulness of Thy grace: + Break the clouds that now enfold Thee, with the sunrise of Thy face! + + "All that men desire and treasure have I counted loss for Thee; + Every hope have I forsaken, save this one, my Lord to see. + + "Loosed the sacred bands of friendship, solitary stands my heart; + Thou shalt be my sole companion when I see Thee as Thou art. + + "From Thy distant throne in glory, flash upon my inward sight, + Fill the midnight of my spirit with the splendour of Thy light. + + "All Thine other gifts and blessings, common mercies, I disown; + Separated from my brothers, I would see Thy face alone. + + "I have watched and I have waited as one waiteth for the morn: + Still the veil is never lifted, still Thou leavest me forlorn. + + "Now I seek Thee in the desert, where the holy hermits dwell; + There, beside the saint Serapion, I will find a lonely cell. + + "There at last Thou wilt be gracious; there Thy presence, + long-concealed, + In the solitude and silence to my heart shall be revealed. + + "Thou wilt come, at dawn or twilight, o'er the rolling waves of sand; + I shall see Thee close beside me, I shall touch Thy pierced hand. + + "Lo, Thy pilgrim kneels before Thee; bless my journey with a word; + Tell me now that if I follow, I shall find Thee, O my Lord!" + + Felix listened: through the darkness, like a murmur of the wind, + Came a gentle sound of stillness: "Never faint, and thou shalt find." + + Long and toilsome was his journey through the heavy land of heat, + Egypt's blazing sun above him, blistering sand beneath his feet. + + Patiently he plodded onward, from the pathway never erred, + Till he reached the river-headland called the Mountain of the Bird. + + There the tribes of air assemble, once a year, their noisy flock, + Then, departing, leave a sentinel perched upon the highest rock. + + Far away, on joyful pinions, over land and sea they fly; + But the watcher on the summit lonely stands against the sky. + + There the eremite Serapion in a cave had made his bed; + There the faithful bands of pilgrims sought his blessing, brought him + bread. + + Month by month, in deep seclusion, hidden in the rocky cleft, + Dwelt the hermit, fasting, praying; once a year the cave he left. + + On that day a happy pilgrim, chosen out of all the band, + Won a special sign of favour from the holy hermit's hand. + + Underneath the narrow window, at the doorway closely sealed, + While the afterglow of sunset deepened round him, Felix kneeled. + + "Man of God, of men most holy, thou whose gifts cannot be priced! + Grant me thy most precious guerdon; tell me how to find the Christ." + + Breathless, Felix bent and listened, but no answering voice he heard; + Darkness folded, dumb and deathlike, round the Mountain of the Bird. + + Then he said, "The saint is silent; he would teach my soul to wait: + I will tarry here in patience, like a beggar at his gate." + + Near the dwelling of the hermit Felix found a rude abode, + In a shallow tomb deserted, close beside the pilgrim-road. + + So the faithful pilgrims saw him waiting there without complaint,-- + Soon they learned to call him holy, fed him as they fed the saint. + + Day by day he watched the sunrise flood the distant plain with gold, + While the River Nile beneath him, silvery coiling, sea-ward rolled. + + Night by night he saw the planets range their glittering court on high, + Saw the moon, with queenly motion, mount her throne and rule the sky. + + Morn advanced and midnight fled, in visionary pomp attired; + Never morn and never midnight brought the vision long-desired. + + Now at last the day is dawning when Serapion makes his gift; + Felix kneels before the threshold, hardly dares his eyes to lift. + + Now the cavern door uncloses, now the saint above him stands, + Blesses him without a word, and leaves a token in his hands. + + 'Tis the guerdon of thy waiting! Look, thou happy pilgrim, look! + Nothing but a tattered fragment of an old papyrus book. + + Read! perchance the clue to guide thee hidden in the words may lie: + "_Raise the stone, and thou shalt find me; cleave the wood, and there + am I._" + + Can it be the mighty Master spake such simple words as these? + Can it be that men must seek Him at their toil 'mid rocks and trees? + + Disappointed, heavy-hearted, from the Mountain of the Bird + Felix mournfully descended, questioning the Master's word. + + Not for him a sacred dwelling, far above the haunts of men: + He must turn his footsteps backward to the common life again. + + From a quarry near the river, hollowed out amid the hills, + Rose the clattering voice of labour, clanking hammers, clinking drills. + + Dust, and noise, and hot confusion made a Babel of the spot: + There, among the lowliest workers, Felix sought and found his lot. + + Now he swung the ponderous mallet, smote the iron in the rock-- + Muscles quivering, tingling, throbbing--blow on blow and shock on shock; + + Now he drove the willow wedges, wet them till they swelled and split, + With their silent strength, the fragment, sent it thundering down the + pit. + + Now the groaning tackle raised it; now the rollers made it slide; + Harnessed men, like beasts of burden, drew it to the river-side. + + Now the palm-trees must be riven, massive timbers hewn and dressed; + Rafts to bear the stones in safety on the rushing river's breast. + + Axe and auger, saw and chisel, wrought the will of man in wood: + 'Mid the many-handed labour Felix toiled, and found it good. + + Every day the blood ran fleeter through his limbs and round his heart; + Every night he slept the sweeter, knowing he had done his part. + + Dreams of solitary saintship faded from him; but, instead, + Came a sense of daily comfort in the toil for daily bread. + + Far away, across the river, gleamed the white walls of the town + Whither all the stones and timbers day by day were floated down. + + There the workman saw his labour taking form and bearing fruit, + Like a tree with splendid branches rising from a humble root. + + Looking at the distant city, temples, houses, domes, and towers, + Felix cried in exultation: "All that mighty work is ours. + + "Every toiler in the quarry, every builder on the shore, + Every chopper in the palm-grove, every raftsman at the oar, + + "Hewing wood and drawing water, splitting stones and cleaving sod, + All the dusty ranks of labour, in the regiment of God, + + "March together toward His triumph, do the task His hands prepare: + Honest toil is holy service; faithful work is praise and prayer." + + While he bore the heat and burden Felix felt the sense of rest + Flowing softly like a fountain, deep within his weary breast; + + Felt the brotherhood of labour, rising round him like a tide, + Overflow his heart and join him to the workers at his side. + + Oft he cheered them with his singing at the breaking of the light, + Told them tales of Christ at noonday, taught them words of prayer at + night. + + Once he bent above a comrade fainting in the mid-day heat, + Sheltered him with woven palm-leaves, gave him water, cool and sweet. + + Then it seemed, for one swift moment, secret radiance filled the place; + Underneath the green palm-branches flashed a look of Jesus' face. + + Once again, a raftsman, slipping, plunged beneath the stream and sank; + Swiftly Felix leaped to rescue, caught him, drew him toward the bank-- + + Battling with the cruel river, using all his strength to save-- + Did he dream? or was there One beside him walking on the wave? + + Now at last the work was ended, grove deserted, quarry stilled; + Felix journeyed to the city that his hands had helped to build. + + In the darkness of the temple, at the closing hour of day, + As of old he sought the altar, as of old he knelt to pray: + + "Hear me, O Thou hidden Master! Thou hast sent a word to me; + It is written--Thy commandment--I have kept it faithfully. + + "Thou hast bid me leave the visions of the solitary life, + Bear my part in human labour, take my share in human strife. + + "I have done Thy bidding, Master; raised the rock and felled the tree, + Swung the axe and plied the hammer, working every day for Thee. + + "Once it seemed I saw Thy presence through the bending palm-leaves gleam; + Once upon the flowing water--Nay, I know not; 'twas a dream! + + "This I know: Thou hast been near me: more than this I dare not ask. + Though I see Thee not, I love Thee. Let me do Thy humblest task!" + + Through the dimness of the temple slowly dawned a mystic light; + There the Master stood in glory, manifest to mortal sight: + + Hands that bore the mark of labour, brow that bore the print of care; + Hands of power, divinely tender; brow of light, divinely fair. + + "Hearken, good and faithful servant, true disciple, loyal friend! + Thou hast followed me and found me; I will keep thee to the end. + + "Well I know thy toil and trouble; often weary, fainting, worn, + I have lived the life of labour, heavy burdens I have borne. + + "Never in a prince's palace have I slept on golden bed, + Never in a hermit's cavern have I eaten unearned bread. + + "Born within a lowly stable, where the cattle round me stood, + Trained a carpenter in Nazareth, I have toiled, and found it good. + + "They who tread the path of labour follow where my feet have trod; + They who work without complaining do the holy will of God. + + "Where the many toil together, there am I among my own; + Where the tired workman sleepeth, there am I with him alone. + + "I, the peace that passeth knowledge, dwell amid the daily strife; + I, the bread of heaven, am broken in the sacrament of life. + + "Every task, however simple, sets the soul that does it free; + Every deed of love and mercy, done to man, is done to me. + + "Thou hast learned the open secret; thou hast come to me for rest; + With thy burden, in thy labour, thou art Felix, doubly blest. + + "Nevermore thou needest seek me; I am with thee everywhere; + _Raise the stone, and thou shall find me; cleave the wood, and + I am there._" + + +III + +ENVOY + + The legend of Felix is ended, the toiling of Felix is done; + The Master has paid him his wages, the goal of his journey is won; + He rests, but he never is idle; a thousand years pass like a day, + In the glad surprise of that Paradise where work is sweeter than play. + + Yet often the King of that country comes out from His tireless host, + And walks in this world of the weary as if He loved it the most; + For here in the dusty confusion, with eyes that are heavy and dim, + He meets again the labouring men who are looking and longing for Him. + + He cancels the curse of Eden, and brings them a blessing instead: + Blessed are they that labour, for Jesus partakes of their bread. + He puts His hand to their burdens, He enters their homes at night: + Who does his best shall have as a guest the Master of life and light. + + And courage will come with His presence, and patience return at His + touch, + And manifold sins be forgiven to those who love Him much; + The cries of envy and anger will change to the songs of cheer, + The toiling age will forget its rage when the Prince of Peace draws near. + + This is the gospel of labour, ring it, ye bells of the kirk! + The Lord of Love came down from above, to live with the men who work. + This is the rose that He planted, here in the thorn-curst soil: + Heaven is blest with perfect rest, but the blessing of Earth is toil. + +1898. + + + +VERA + + +I + + A silent world,--yet full of vital joy + Uttered in rhythmic movements manifold, + And sunbeams flashing on the face of things + Like sudden smilings of divine delight,-- + A world of many sorrows too, revealed + In fading flowers and withering leaves and dark + Tear-laden clouds, and tearless, clinging mists + That hung above the earth too sad to weep,-- + A world of fluent change, and changeless flow, + And infinite suggestion of new thought, + Reflected in the crystal of the heart,-- + A world of many meanings but no words, + A silent world was Vera's home. + For her + The inner doors of sound were closely sealed + The outer portals, delicate as shells + Suffused with faintest rose of far-off morn, + Like underglow of daybreak in the sea,-- + The ear-gates of the garden of her soul, + Shaded by drooping tendrils of brown hair,-- + Waited in vain for messengers to pass, + And thread the labyrinth with flying feet, + And swiftly knock upon the inmost door, + And enter in, and speak the mystic word. + But through those gates no message ever came. + Only with eyes did she behold and see,-- + With eyes as luminous and bright and brown + As waters of a woodland river,--eyes + That questioned so they almost seemed to speak, + And answered so they almost seemed to hear,-- + Only with wondering eyes did she behold + The silent splendour of a living world. + + She saw the great wind ranging freely down + Interminable archways of the wood, + While tossing boughs and bending tree-tops hailed + His coming: but no sea-toned voice of pines, + No roaring of the oaks, no silvery song + Of poplars or of birches, followed him. + He passed; they waved their arms and clapped their hands; + There was no sound. + The torrents from the hills + Leaped down their rocky pathways, like wild steeds + Breaking the yoke and shaking manes of foam. + The lowland brooks coiled smoothly through the fields, + And softly spread themselves in glistening lakes + Whose ripples merrily danced among the reeds. + The standing waves that ever keep their place + In the swift rapids, curled upon themselves, + And seemed about to break and never broke; + And all the wandering waves that fill the sea + Came buffeting in along the stony shore, + Or plunging in along the level sands, + Or creeping in along the winding creeks + And inlets. Yet from all the ceaseless flow + And turmoil of the restless element + Came neither song of joy nor sob of grief; + For there were many waters, but no voice. + + Silent the actors all on Nature's stage + Performed their parts before her watchful eyes, + Coming and going, making war and love, + Working and playing, all without a sound. + The oxen drew their load with swaying necks; + The cows came sauntering home along the lane; + The nodding sheep were led from field to fold + In mute obedience. Down the woodland track + The hounds with panting sides and lolling tongues + Pursued their flying prey in noiseless haste. + The birds, the most alive of living things, + Mated, and built their nests, and reared their young, + And swam the flood of air like tiny ships + Rising and falling over unseen waves, + And, gathering in great navies, bore away + To North or South, without a note of song. + + All these were Vera's playmates; and she loved + To watch them, wondering oftentimes how well + They knew their parts, and how the drama moved + So swiftly, smoothly on from scene to scene + Without confusion. But she sometimes dreamed + There must be something hidden in the play + Unknown to her, an utterance of life + More clear than action and more deep than looks. + And this she felt most deeply when she watched + Her human comrades and the throngs of men, + Who met and parted oft with moving lips + That had a meaning more than she could see. + She saw a lover bend above a maid, + With moving lips; and though he touched her not + A sudden rose of joy bloomed in her face. + She saw a hater stand before his foe + And move his lips; whereat the other shrank + As if he had been smitten on the mouth. + She saw the regiments of toiling men + Marshalled in ranks and led by moving lips. + And once she saw a sight more strange than all: + A crowd of people sitting charmed and still + Around a little company of men + Who touched their hands in measured, rhythmic time + To curious instruments; a woman stood + Among them, with bright eyes and heaving breast, + And lifted up her face and moved her lips. + Then Vera wondered at the idle play, + But when she looked around, she saw the glow + Of deep delight on every face, as if + Some visitor from a celestial world + Had brought glad tidings. But to her alone + No angel entered, for the choir of sound + Was vacant in the temple of her soul, + And worship lacked her golden crown of song. + + So when by vision baffled and perplexed + She saw that all the world could not be seen, + And knew she could not know the whole of life + Unless a hidden gate should be unsealed, + She felt imprisoned. In her heart there grew + The bitter creeping plant of discontent, + The plant that only grows in prison soil, + Whose root is hunger and whose fruit is pain. + The springs of still delight and tranquil joy + Were drained as dry as desert dust to feed + That never-flowering vine, whose tendrils clung + With strangling touch around the bloom of life + And made it wither. Vera could not rest + Within the limits of her silent world; + Along its dumb and desolate paths she roamed + A captive, looking sadly for escape. + + Now in those distant days, and in that land + Remote, there lived a Master wonderful, + Who knew the secret of all life, and could, + With gentle touches and with potent words, + Open all gates that ever had been sealed, + And loose all prisoners whom Fate had bound. + Obscure he dwelt, not in the wilderness, + But in a hut among the throngs of men, + Concealed by meekness and simplicity. + And ever as he walked the city streets, + Or sat in quietude beside the sea, + Or trod the hillsides and the harvest fields, + The multitude passed by and knew him not. + But there were some who knew, and turned to him + For help; and unto all who asked, he gave. + Thus Vera came, and found him in the field, + And knew him by the pity in his face. + She knelt to him and held him by one hand, + And laid the other hand upon her lips + In mute entreaty. Then she lifted up + The coils of hair that hung about her neck, + And bared the beauty of the gates of sound,-- + Those virgin gates through which no voice had passed,-- + She made them bare before the Master's sight, + And looked into the kindness of his face + With eyes that spoke of all her prisoned pain, + And told her great desire without a word. + + The Master waited long in silent thought, + As one reluctant to bestow a gift, + Not for the sake of holding back the thing + Entreated, but because he surely knew + Of something better that he fain would give + If only she would ask it. Then he stooped + To Vera, smiling, touched her ears and spoke: + "Open, fair gates, and you, reluctant doors, + Within the ivory labyrinth of the ear, + Let fall the bar of silence and unfold! + Enter, you voices of all living things, + Enter the garden sealed,--but softly, slowly, + Not with a noise confused and broken tumult,-- + Come in an order sweet as I command you, + And bring the double gift of speech and hearing." + + Vera began to hear. At first the wind + Breathed a low prelude of the birth of sound, + As if an organ far away were touched + By unseen fingers; then the little stream + That hurried down the hillside, swept the harp + Of music into merry, tinkling notes; + And then the lark that poised above her head + On wings a-quiver, overflowed the air + With showers of song; and one by one the tones + Of all things living, in an order sweet, + Without confusion and with deepening power, + Entered the garden sealed. And last of all + The Master's voice, the human voice divine, + Passed through the gates and called her by her name, + And Vera heard. + + +II + + What rapture of new life + Must come to one for whom a silent world + Is suddenly made vocal, and whose heart + By the same magic is awaked at once, + Without the learner's toil and long delay, + Out of a night of dumbly moving dreams, + Into a day that overflows with music! + This joy was Vera's; and to her it seemed + As if a new creative morn had risen + Upon the earth, and after the full week + When living things unfolded silently, + And after the long, quiet Sabbath day, + When all was still, another day had dawned, + And through the calm expectancy of heaven + A secret voice had said, "Let all things speak." + The world responded with an instant joy; + And all the unseen avenues of sound + Were thronged with varying forms of viewless life. + + To every living thing a voice was given + Distinct and personal. The forest trees + Were not more varied in their shades of green + Than in their tones of speech; and every bird + That nested in their branches had a song + Unknown to other birds and all his own. + The waters spoke a hundred dialects + Of one great language; now with pattering fall + Of raindrops on the glistening leaves, and now + With steady roar of rivers rushing down + To meet the sea, and now with rhythmic throb + And measured tumult of tempestuous waves, + And now with lingering lisp of creeping tides,-- + The manifold discourse of many waters. + But most of all the human voice was full + Of infinite variety, and ranged + Along the scale of life's experience + With changing tones, and notes both sweet and sad, + All fitted to express some unseen thought, + Some vital motion of the hidden heart. + So Vera listened with her new-born sense + To all the messengers that passed the gates, + In measureless delight and utter trust, + Believing that they brought a true report + From every living thing of its true life, + And hoping that at last they would make clear + The mystery and the meaning of the world. + + But soon there came a trouble in her joy, + A note discordant that dissolved the chord + And broke the bliss of hearing into pain. + Not from the harsher sounds and voices wild + Of anger and of anguish, that reveal + The secret strife in nature, and confess + The touch of sorrow on the heart of life,-- + From these her trouble came not. For in these, + However sad, she felt the note of truth, + And truth, though sad, is always musical. + The raging of the tempest-ridden sea, + The crash of thunder, and the hollow moan + Of winds complaining round the mountain-crags, + The shrill and quavering cry of birds of prey, + The fiercer roar of conflict-loving beasts,-- + All these wild sounds are potent in their place + Within life's mighty symphony; the charm + Of truth attunes them, and the hearing ear + Finds pleasure in their rude sincerity. + Even the broken and tumultuous noise + That rises from great cities, where the heart + Of human toil is beating heavily + With ceaseless murmurs of the labouring pulse, + Is not a discord; for it speaks to life + Of life unfeigned, and full of hopes and fears, + And touched through all the trouble of its notes + With something real and therefore glorious. + + One voice alone of all that sound on earth, + Is hateful to the soul, and full of pain,-- + The voice of falsehood. So when Vera heard + This mocking voice, and knew that it was false; + When first she learned that human lips can speak + The thing that is not, and betray the ear + Of simple trust with treachery of words; + The joy of hearing withered in her heart. + For now she felt that faithless messengers + Could pass the open and unguarded gates + Of sound, and bring a message all untrue, + Or half a truth that makes the deadliest lie, + Or idle babble, neither false nor true, + But hollow to the heart, and meaningless. + She heard the flattering voices of deceit, + That mask the hidden purposes of men + With fair attire of favourable words, + And hide the evil in the guise of good: + The voices vain and decorous and smooth, + That fill the world with empty-hearted talk; + The foolish voices, wandering and confused, + That never clearly speak the thing they would, + But ramble blindly round their true intent + And tangle sense in hopeless coils of sound,-- + All these she heard, and with a deep mistrust + Began to doubt the value of her gift. + It seemed as if the world, the living world, + Sincere, and vast, and real, were still concealed, + And she, within the prison of her soul, + Still waiting silently to hear the voice + Of perfect knowledge and of perfect peace. + + So with the burden of her discontent + She turned to seek the Master once again, + And found him sitting in the market-place, + Half-hidden in the shadow of a porch, + Alone among the careless crowd. + She spoke: + "Thy gift was great, dear Master, and my heart + Has thanked thee many times because I hear + But I have learned that hearing is not all; + For underneath the speech of men, there flows + Another current of their hidden thoughts; + Behind the mask of language I perceive + The eyes of things unsaid. + Touch me again, + O Master, with thy liberating hand, + And free me from the bondage of deceit. + Open another gate, and let me hear + The secret thoughts and purposes of men; + For only thus my heart will be at rest, + And only thus, at last, I shall perceive + The mystery and the meaning of the world." + + The Master's face was turned aside from her; + His eyes looked far away, as if he saw + Something beyond her sight; and yet she knew + That he was listening; for her pleading voice + No sooner ceased than he put forth his hand + To touch her brow, and very gently spoke: + "Thou seekest for thyself a wondrous gift,-- + The opening of the second gate, a gift + That many wise men have desired in vain: + But some have found it,--whether well or ill + For their own peace, they have attained the power + To hear unspoken thoughts of other men. + And thou hast begged this gift? Thou shalt receive,-- + Not knowing what thou seekest,--it is thine: + The second gate is open! Thou shalt hear + All that men think and feel within their hearts: + Thy prayer is granted, daughter, go thy way! + But if thou findest sorrow on this path, + Come back again,--there is a path to peace." + + +III + + Beyond our power of vision, poets say, + There is another world of forms unseen, + Yet visible to purer eyes than ours. + And if the crystal of our sight were clear, + We should behold the mountain-slopes of cloud, + The moving meadows of the untilled sea, + The groves of twilight and the dales of dawn, + And every wide and lonely field of air, + More populous than cities, crowded close + With living creatures of all shapes and hues. + But if that sight were ours, the things that now + Engage our eyes would seem but dull and dim + Beside the wonders of our new-found world, + And we should be amazed and overwhelmed + Not knowing how to use the plenitude + Of vision. + So in Vera's soul, at first, + The opening of the second gate of sound + Let in confusion like a whirling flood. + The murmur of a myriad-throated mob; + The trampling of an army through a place + Where echoes hide; the sudden, whistling flight + Of an innumerable flock of birds + Along the highway of the midnight sky; + The many-whispered rustling of the reeds + Beneath the passing feet of all the winds; + The long-drawn, inarticulate, wailing cry + Of million-pebbled beaches when the lash + Of stormy waves is drawn across their back,-- + All these were less bewildering than to hear + What now she heard at once: the tangled sound + Of all that moves within the minds of men. + For now there was no measured flow of words + To mark the time; nor any interval + Of silence to repose the listening ear. + But through the dead of night, and through the calm + Of weary noon-tide, through the solemn hush + That fills the temple in the pause of praise, + And through the breathless awe in rooms of death, + She heard the ceaseless motion and the stir + Of never-silent hearts, that fill the world + With interwoven thoughts of good and ill, + With mingled music of delight and grief, + With songs of love, and bitter cries of hate, + With hymns of faith, and dirges of despair, + And murmurs deeper and more vague than all,-- + Thoughts that are born and die without a name, + Or rather, never die, but haunt the soul, + With sad persistence, till a name is given. + These Vera heard, at first with mind perplexed + And half-benumbed by the disordered sound. + But soon a clearer sense began to pierce + The cloudy turmoil with discerning power. + She learned to know the tones of human thought + As plainly as she knew the tones of speech. + She could divide the evil from the good, + Interpreting the language of the mind, + And tracing every feeling like a thread + Within the mystic web the passions weave + From heart to heart around the living world. + + But when at last the Master's second gift + Was perfected within her, and she heard + And understood the secret thoughts of men, + A sadness fell upon her, and the load + Of insupportable knowledge pressed her down + With weary wishes to know more, or less. + For all she knew was like a broken word + Inscribed upon the fragment of a ring; + And all she heard was like a broken strain + Preluding music that is never played. + + Then she remembered in her sad unrest + The Master's parting word,--"a path to peace,"-- + And turned again to seek him with her grief. + She found him in a hollow of the hills, + Beside a little spring that issued forth + Beneath the rocks and filled a mossy cup + With never-failing water. There he sat, + With waiting looks that welcomed her afar. + "I know that thou hast heard, my child," he said, + "For all the wonder of the world of sound + Is written in thy face. But hast thou heard, + Among the many voices, one of peace? + And is thy heart that hears the secret thoughts, + The hidden wishes and desires of men, + Content with hearing? Art thou satisfied?" + "Nay, Master," she replied, "thou knowest well + That I am not at rest, nor have I heard + The voice of perfect peace; but what I hear + Brings me disquiet and a troubled mind. + The evil voices in the souls of men, + Voices of rage and cruelty and fear + Have not dismayed me; for I have believed + The voices of the good, the kind, the true, + Are more in number and excel in strength. + There is more love than hate, more hope than fear, + In the deep throbbing of the human heart. + But while I listen to the troubled sound, + One thing torments me, and destroys my rest + And presses me with dull, unceasing pain. + For out of all the minds of all mankind, + There rises evermore a questioning voice + That asks the meaning of this mighty world + And finds no answer,--asks, and asks again, + With patient pleading or with wild complaint, + But wakens no response, except the sound + Of other questions, wandering to and fro, + From other souls in doubt. And so this voice + Persists above all others that I hear, + And binds them up together into one, + Until the mingled murmur of the world + Sounds through the inner temple of my heart + Like an eternal question, vainly asked + By every human soul that thinks and feels. + This is the heaviness that weighs me down, + And this the pain that will not let me rest. + Therefore, dear Master, shut the gates again, + And let me live in silence as before! + Or else,--and if there is indeed a gate + Unopened yet, through which I might receive + An answer in the voice of perfect peace--" + + She ceased; and in her upward faltering tone + The question echoed. + Then the Master said: + "There is another gate, not yet unclosed. + For through the outer portal of the ear + Only the outer voice of things may pass; + And through the middle doorway of the mind + Only the half-formed voice of human thoughts, + Uncertain and perplexed with endless doubt; + But through the inmost gate the spirit hears + The voice of that great Spirit who is Life. + Beneath the tones of living things He breathes + A deeper tone than ever ear hath heard; + And underneath the troubled thoughts of men + He thinks forever, and His thought is peace. + Behold, I touch thee once again, my child: + The third and last of those three hidden gates + That closed around thy soul and shut thee in, + Is open now, and thou shalt truly hear." + + Then Vera heard. The spiritual gate + Was opened softly as a full-blown flower + Unfolds its heart to welcome in the dawn, + And on her listening face there shone a light + Of still amazement and completed joy + In the full gift of hearing. + What she heard + I cannot tell; nor could she ever tell + In words; because all human words are vain. + There is no speech nor language, to express + The secret messages of God, that make + Perpetual music in the hearing heart. + Below the voice of waters, and above + The wandering voice of winds, and underneath + The song of birds, and all the varying tones + Of living things that fill the world with sound, + God spoke to her, and what she heard was peace. + + So when the Master questioned, "Dost thou hear?" + She answered, "Yea, at last I hear." And then + He asked her once again, "What hearest thou? + What means the voice of Life?" She answered, "Love! + For love is life, and they who do not love + Are not alive. But every soul that loves, + Lives in the heart of God and hears Him speak." + +1898. + + + +ANOTHER CHANCE + +A DRAMATIC LYRIC + + + Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death! + Uncrook your fingers from my throat, and let me draw my breath. + You do me wrong to take me now--too soon for me to die-- + Ah, loose me from this clutching pain, and hear the reason why. + + I know I've had my forty years, and wasted every one; + And yet, I tell you honestly, my life is just begun; + I've walked the world like one asleep, a dreamer in a trance; + But now you've gripped me wide awake--I want another chance. + + My dreams were always beautiful, my thoughts were high and fine; + No life was ever lived on earth to match those dreams of mine. + And would you wreck them unfulfilled? What folly, nay, what crime! + You rob the world, you waste a soul; give me a little time. + + You'll hear me? Yes, I'm sure you will, my hope is not in vain: + I feel the even pulse of peace, the sweet relief from pain; + The black fog rolls away from me; I'm free once more to plan: + Another chance is all I need to prove myself a man! + + * * * * * + + The world is full of warfare 'twixt the evil and the good; + I watched the battle from afar as one who understood + The shouting and confusion, the bloody, blundering fight-- + How few there are that see it clear, how few that wage it right! + + The captains flushed with foolish pride, the soldiers pale with fear, + The faltering flags, the feeble fire from ranks that swerve and veer, + The wild mistakes, the dismal doubts, the coward hearts that flee-- + The good cause needs a nobler knight to win the victory. + + A man whose soul is pure and strong, whose sword is bright and keen, + Who knows the splendour of the fight and what its issues mean; + Who never takes one step aside, nor halts, though hope be dim, + But cleaves a pathway thro' the strife, and bids men follow him. + + No blot upon his stainless shield, no weakness in his arm; + No sign of trembling in his face to break his valour's charm: + A man like this could stay the flight and lead the wavering line; + Ah, give me but a year of life--I'll make that glory mine! + + * * * * * + + Religion? Yes, I know it well; I've heard its prayers and creeds, + And seen men put them all to shame with poor, half-hearted deeds. + They follow Christ, but far away; they wander and they doubt. + I'll serve him in a better way, and live his precepts out. + + You see, I waited just for this; I could not be content + To own a feeble, faltering faith with human weakness blent. + Too many runners in the race move slowly, stumble, fall; + But I will run so straight and swift I shall outstrip them all. + + Oh, think what it will mean to men, amid their foolish strife, + To see the clear, unshadowed light of one true Christian life, + Without a touch of selfishness, without a taint of sin,-- + With one short month of such a life a new world would begin! + + * * * * * + + And love!--I often dream of that--the treasure of the earth; + How little they who use the coin have realised its worth! + 'Twill pay all debts, enrich all hearts, and make all joys secure. + But love, to do its perfect work, must be sincere and pure. + + My heart is full of virgin gold. I'll pour it out and spend + My hidden wealth with open hand on all who call me friend. + Not one shall miss the kindly deed, the largess of relief, + The generous fellowship of joy, the sympathy of grief. + + I'll say the loyal, helpful things that make life sweet and fair, + I'll pay the gratitude I owe for human love and care. + Perhaps I've been at fault sometimes--I'll ask to be forgiven, + And make this little room of mine seem like a bit of heaven. + + For one by one I'll call my friends to stand beside my bed; + I'll speak the true and tender words so often left unsaid; + And every heart shall throb and glow, all coldness melt away + Around my altar-fire of love--ah, give me but one day! + + * * * * * + + What's that? I've had another day, and wasted it again? + A priceless day in empty dreams, another chance in vain? + Thou fool--this night--it's very dark--the last--this choking breath-- + One prayer--have mercy on a dreamer's soul--God, this is death! + + + +A LEGEND OF SERVICE + + + It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!) + To hear, one day, report from those who came + With pitying sorrow, or exultant joy, + To tell of earthly tasks in His employ. + For some were grieved because they saw how slow + The stream of heavenly love on earth must flow; + And some were glad because their eyes had seen, + Along its banks, fresh flowers and living green. + At last, before the whiteness of the throne + The youngest angel, Asmiel, stood alone; + Nor glad, nor sad, but full of earnest thought, + And thus his tidings to the Master brought + "Lord, in the city Lupon I have found + Three servants of thy holy name, renowned + Above their fellows. One is very wise, + With thoughts that ever range beyond the skies; + And one is gifted with the golden speech + That makes men gladly hear when he will teach; + And one, with no rare gift or grace endued, + Has won the people's love by doing good. + With three such saints Lupon is trebly blest; + But, Lord, I fain would know, which loves Thee best?" + Then spake the Lord of Angels, to whose look + The hearts of all are like an open book: + "In every soul the secret thought I read, + And well I know who loves me best indeed. + But every life has pages vacant still, + Whereon a man may write the thing he will; + Therefore I read the record, day by day, + And wait for hearts untaught to learn my way. + But thou shalt go to Lupon, to the three + Who serve me there, and take this word from me: + Tell each of them his Master bids him go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow; + There he shall find a certain task for me: + But what, I do not tell to them nor thee. + Give thou the message, make my word the test, + And crown for me the one who loves me best." + Silent the angel stood, with folded hands, + To take the imprint of his Lord's commands; + Then drew one breath, obedient and elate, + And passed the self-same hour, through Lupon's gate. + + * * * * * + + First to the Temple door he made his way; + And there, because it was a holy-day, + He saw the folk in thousands thronging, stirred + By ardent thirst to hear the preacher's word. + Then, while the people whispered Bernol's name, + Through aisles that hushed behind him Bernol came; + Strung to the keenest pitch of conscious might, + With lips prepared and firm, and eyes alight. + One moment at the pulpit step he knelt + In silent prayer, and on his shoulder felt + The angel's hand:--"The Master bids thee go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow, + To serve Him there." Then Bernol's hidden face + Went white as death, and for about the space + Of ten slow heart-beats there was no reply; + Till Bernol looked around and whispered, "_Why?_" + But answer to his question came there none; + The angel sighed, and with a sigh was gone. + + * * * * * + + Within the humble house where Malvin spent + His studious years, on holy things intent, + Sweet stillness reigned; and there the angel found + The saintly sage immersed in thought profound, + Weaving with patient toil and willing care + A web of wisdom, wonderful and fair: + A seamless robe for Truth's great bridal meet, + And needing but one thread to be complete. + Then Asmiel touched his hand, and broke the thread + Of fine-spun thought, and very gently said, + "The One of whom thou thinkest bids thee go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow, + To serve Him there." With sorrow and surprise + Malvin looked up, reluctance in his eyes. + The broken thought, the strangeness of the call, + The perilous passage of the mountain-wall, + The solitary journey, and the length + Of ways unknown, too great for his frail strength, + Appalled him. With a doubtful brow + He scanned the doubtful task, and muttered "_How?_" + But Asmiel answered, as he turned to go, + With cold, disheartened voice, "I do not know." + + * * * * * + + Now as he went, with fading hope, to seek + The third and last to whom God bade him speak, + Scarce twenty steps away whom should he meet + But Fermor, hurrying cheerful down the street, + With ready heart that faced his work like play, + And joyed to find it greater every day! + The angel stopped him with uplifted hand, + And gave without delay his Lord's command: + "He whom thou servest here would have thee go + Alone to Spiran's huts, across the snow, + To serve Him there." Ere Asmiel breathed again + The eager answer leaped to meet him, "_When?_" + + The angel's face with inward joy grew bright, + And all his figure glowed with heavenly light; + He took the golden circlet from his brow + And gave the crown to Fermor, answering, "Now! + For thou hast met the Master's hidden test, + And I have found the man who loves Him best. + Not thine, nor mine, to question or reply + When He commands us, asking 'how?' or 'why?' + He knows the cause; His ways are wise and just; + Who serves the King must serve with perfect trust." + +February, 1902. + + + +THE WHITE BEES + + +I + +LEGEND + + Long ago Apollo called to Aristaeus, youngest of the shepherds, + Saying, "I will make you keeper of my bees." + Golden were the hives and golden was the honey; golden, too, the music + Where the honey-makers hummed among the trees. + + Happy Aristaeus loitered in the garden, wandered in the orchard, + Careless and contented, indolent and free; + Lightly took his labour, lightly took his pleasure, till the fated moment + When across his pathway came Eurydice. + + Then her eyes enkindled burning love within him; drove him wild with + longing + For the perfect sweetness of her flower-like face; + Eagerly he followed, while she fled before him, over mead and mountain, + On through field and forest, in a breathless race. + + But the nymph, in flying, trod upon a serpent; like a dream she vanished; + Pluto's chariot bore her down among the dead! + Lonely Aristaeus, sadly home returning, found his garden empty, + All the hives deserted, all the music fled. + + Mournfully bewailing,--"Ah, my honey-makers, where have you departed?" + Far and wide he sought them over sea and shore; + Foolish is the tale that says he ever found them, brought them home in + triumph,-- + Joys that once escape us fly for evermore. + + Yet I dream that somewhere, clad in downy whiteness, dwell the + honey-makers, + In aerial gardens that no mortal sees: + And at times returning, lo, they flutter round us, gathering mystic + harvest,-- + So I weave the legend of the long-lost bees. + + +II + +THE SWARMING OF THE BEES + + Who can tell the hiding of the white bees' nest? + Who can trace the guiding of their swift home flight? + Far would be his riding on a life-long quest: + Surely ere it ended would his beard grow white. + + Never in the coming of the rose-red Spring, + Never in the passing of the wine-red Fall, + May you hear the humming of the white bee's wing + Murmur o'er the meadow ere the night bells call. + + Wait till winter hardens in the cold gray sky, + Wait till leaves are fallen and the brooks all freeze, + Then above the gardens where the dead flowers lie, + Swarm the merry millions of the wild white bees. + + Out of the high-built airy hive, + Deep in the clouds that veil the sun, + Look how the first of the swarm arrive; + Timidly venturing, one by one, + Down through the tranquil air, + Wavering here and there, + Large, and lazy in flight,-- + Caught by a lift of the breeze, + Tangled among the naked trees,-- + Dropping then, without a sound, + Feather-white, feather-light, + To their rest on the ground. + + Thus the swarming is begun. + Count the leaders, every one + Perfect as a perfect star + Till the slow descent is done. + Look beyond them, see how far + Down the vistas dim and gray, + Multitudes are on the way. + Now a sudden brightness + Dawns within the sombre day, + Over fields of whiteness; + And the sky is swiftly alive + With the flutter and the flight + Of the shimmering bees, that pour + From the hidden door of the hive + Till you can count no more. + + Now on the branches of hemlock and pine + Thickly they settle and cluster and swing, + Bending them low; and the trellised vine + And the dark elm-boughs are traced with a line + Of beauty wherever the white bees cling. + Now they are hiding the wrecks of the flowers, + Softly, softly, covering all, + Over the grave of the summer hours + Spreading a silver pall. + Now they are building the broad roof ledge, + Into a cornice smooth and fair, + Moulding the terrace, from edge to edge, + Into the sweep of a marble stair. + Wonderful workers, swift and dumb, + Numberless myriads, still they come, + Thronging ever faster, faster, faster! + Where is their queen? Who is their master? + The gardens are faded, the fields are frore,-- + What is the honey they toil to store + In the desolate day, where no blossoms gleam? + _Forgetfulness and a dream!_ + + But now the fretful wind awakes; + I hear him girding at the trees; + He strikes the bending boughs, and shakes + The quiet clusters of the bees + To powdery drift; + He tosses them away, + He drives them like spray; + He makes them veer and shift + Around his blustering path. + In clouds blindly whirling, + In rings madly swirling, + Full of crazy wrath, + So furious and fast they fly + They blur the earth and blot the sky + In wild, white mirk. + They fill the air with frozen wings + And tiny, angry, icy stings; + They blind the eyes, and choke the breath, + They dance a maddening dance of death + Around their work, + Sweeping the cover from the hill, + Heaping the hollows deeper still, + Effacing every line and mark, + And swarming, storming in the dark + Through the long night; + Until, at dawn, the wind lies down + Weary of fight; + The last torn cloud, with trailing gown, + Passes the open gates of light; + And the white bees are lost in flight. + + Look how the landscape glitters wide and still, + Bright with a pure surprise! + The day begins with joy, and all past ill, + Buried in white oblivion, lies + Beneath the snow-drifts under crystal skies. + New hope, new love, new life, new cheer, + Flow in the sunrise beam,-- + The gladness of Apollo when he sees, + Upon the bosom of the wintry year, + The honey-harvest of his wild white bees, + _Forgetfulness and a dream!_ + + +III + +LEGEND + + Listen, my beloved, while the silver morning, like a tranquil vision, + Fills the world around us and our hearts with peace; + Quiet is the close of Aristaeus' legend, happy is the ending-- + Listen while I tell you how he found release. + + Many months he wandered far away in sadness, desolately thinking + Only of the vanished joys he could not find; + Till the great Apollo, pitying his shepherd, loosed him from the burden + Of a dark, reluctant, backward-looking mind. + + Then he saw around him all the changeful beauty of the changing seasons, + In the world-wide regions where his journey lay; + Birds that sang to cheer him, flowers that bloomed beside him, stars that + shone to guide him,-- + Traveller's joy was plenty all along the way! + + Everywhere he journeyed strangers made him welcome, listened while he + taught them + Secret lore of field and forest he had learned: + How to train the vines and make the olives fruitful; how to guard the + sheepfolds; + How to stay the fever when the dog-star burned. + + Friendliness and blessing followed in his footsteps; richer were the + harvests, + Happier the dwellings, wheresoe'er he came; + Little children loved him, and he left behind him, in the hour of + parting, + Memories of kindness and a god-like name. + + So he travelled onward, desolate no longer, patient in his seeking, + Reaping all the wayside comfort of his quest; + Till at last in Thracia, high upon Mount Haemus, far from human dwelling, + Weary Aristaeus laid him down to rest. + + Then the honey-makers, clad in downy whiteness, fluttered soft around + him, + Wrapt him in a dreamful slumber pure and deep. + This is life, beloved: first a sheltered garden, then a troubled journey, + Joy and pain of seeking,--and at last we sleep! + +1905. + + + +NEW YEAR'S EVE + + +I + + The other night I had a dream, most clear + And comforting, complete + In every line, a crystal sphere, + And full of intimate and secret cheer. + Therefore I will repeat + That vision, dearest heart, to you, + As of a thing not feigned, but very true, + Yes, true as ever in my life befell; + And you, perhaps, can tell + Whether my dream was really sad or sweet. + + +II + + The shadows flecked the elm-embowered street + I knew so well, long, long ago; + And on the pillared porch where Marguerite + Had sat with me, the moonlight lay like snow. + But she, my comrade and my friend of youth, + Most gaily wise, + Most innocently loved,-- + She of the blue-gray eyes + That ever smiled and ever spoke the truth,-- + From that familiar dwelling, where she moved + Like mirth incarnate in the years before, + Had gone into the hidden house of Death. + I thought the garden wore + White mourning for her blessed innocence, + And the syringa's breath + Came from the corner by the fence + Where she had made her rustic seat, + With fragrance passionate, intense, + As if it breathed a sigh for Marguerite. + My heart was heavy with a sense + Of something good for ever gone. I sought + Vainly for some consoling thought, + Some comfortable word that I could say + To her sad father, whom I visited again + For the first time since she had gone away. + The bell rang shrill and lonely,--then + The door was opened, and I sent my name + To him,--but ah! 'twas Marguerite who came! + There in the dear old dusky room she stood + Beneath the lamp, just as she used to stand, + In tender mocking mood. + "You did not ask for me," she said, + "And so I will not let you take my hand; + But I must hear what secret talk you planned + With father. Come, my friend, be good, + And tell me your affairs of state: + Why you have stayed away and made me wait + So long. Sit down beside me here,-- + And, do you know, it seems a year + Since we have talked together,--why so late?" + Amazed, incredulous, confused with joy + I hardly dared to show, + And stammering like a boy, + I took the place she showed me at her side; + And then the talk flowed on with brimming tide + Through the still night, + While she with influence light + Controlled it, as the moon the flood. + She knew where I had been, what I had done, + What work was planned, and what begun; + My troubles, failures, fears she understood, + And touched them with a heart so kind, + That every care was melted from my mind, + And every hope grew bright, + And life seemed moving on to happy ends. + (Ah, what self-beggared fool was he + That said a woman cannot be + The very best of friends?) + Then there were memories of old times, + Recalled with many a gentle jest; + And at the last she brought the book of rhymes + We made together, trying to translate + The Songs of Heine (hers were always best). + "Now come," she said, + "To-night we will collaborate + Again; I'll put you to the test. + Here's one I never found the way to do,-- + The simplest are the hardest ones, you know,-- + I give this song to you." + And then she read: + _Mein Kind, wir waren Kinder, + Zwei Kinder, jung und froh._ + + * * * * * + + But all the while, a silent question stirred + Within me, though I dared not speak the word: + "Is it herself, and is she truly here, + And was I dreaming when I heard + That she was dead last year? + Or was it true, and is she but a shade + Who brings a fleeting joy to eye and ear, + Cold though so kind, and will she gently fade + When her sweet ghostly part is played + And the light-curtain falls at dawn of day?" + + But while my heart was troubled by this fear + So deeply that I could not speak it out, + Lest all my happiness should disappear, + I thought me of a cunning way + To hide the question and dissolve the doubt. + "Will you not give me now your hand, + Dear Marguerite," I asked, "to touch and hold, + That by this token I may understand + You are the same true friend you were of old?" + She answered with a smile so bright and calm + It seemed as if I saw the morn arise + In the deep heaven of her eyes; + And smiling so, she laid her palm + In mine. Dear God, it was not cold + But warm with vital heat! + "You live!" I cried, "you live, dear Marguerite!" + When I awoke; but strangely comforted, + Although I knew again that she was dead. + + +III + + Yes, there's the dream! And was it sweet or sad? + Dear mistress of my waking and my sleep, + Present reward of all my heart's desire, + Watching with me beside the winter fire, + Interpret now this vision that I had. + But while you read the meaning, let me keep + The touch of you: for the Old Year with storm + Is passing through the midnight, and doth shake + The corners of the house,--and oh! my heart would break + Unless both dreaming and awake + My hand could feel your hand was warm, warm, warm! + +1905. + + + +THE VAIN KING + + + In robes of Tyrian blue the King was drest, + A jewelled collar shone upon his breast, + A giant ruby glittered in his crown: + Lord of rich lands and many a splendid town, + In him the glories of an ancient line + Of sober kings, who ruled by right divine, + Were centred; and to him with loyal awe + The people looked for leadership and law. + Ten thousand knights, the safeguard of the land, + Were like a single sword within his hand; + A hundred courts, with power of life and death, + Proclaimed decrees of justice by his breath; + And all the sacred growths that men had known + Of order and of rule upheld his throne. + + Proud was the King: yet not with such a heart + As fits a man to play a royal part. + Not his the pride that honours as a trust + The right to rule, the duty to be just: + Not his the dignity that bends to bear + The monarch's yoke, the master's load of care, + And labours like the peasant at his gate, + To serve the people and protect the State. + Another pride was his, and other joys: + To him the crown and sceptre were but toys, + With which he played at glory's idle game, + To please himself and win the wreaths of fame. + The throne his fathers held from age to age, + To his ambition seemed a fitting stage + Built for King Martin to display at will, + His mighty strength and universal skill. + No conscious child, that, spoiled with praising, tries + At every step to win admiring eyes, + No favourite mountebank, whose acting draws + From gaping crowds the thunder of applause, + Was vainer than the King: his only thirst + Was to be hailed, in every race, the first. + When tournament was held, in knightly guise + The King would ride the lists and win the prize; + When music charmed the court, with golden lyre + The King would take the stage and lead the choir; + In hunting, his the lance to slay the boar; + In hawking, see his falcon highest soar; + In painting, he would wield the master's brush; + In high debate,--"the King is speaking! Hush!" + Thus, with a restless heart, in every field + He sought renown, and made his subjects yield. + But while he played the petty games of life + His kingdom fell a prey to inward strife; + Corruption through the court unheeded crept, + And on the seat of honour justice slept. + The strong trod down the weak; the helpless poor + Groaned under burdens grievous to endure; + The nation's wealth was spent in vain display, + And weakness wore the nation's heart away. + + Yet think not Earth is blind to human woes-- + Man has more friends and helpers than he knows; + And when a patient people are oppressed, + The land that bore them feels it in her breast. + Spirits of field and flood, of heath and hill, + Are grieved and angry at the spreading ill; + The trees complain together in the night, + Voices of wrath are heard along the height, + And secret vows are sworn, by stream and strand, + To bring the tyrant low and free the land. + + But little recked the pampered King of these; + He heard no voice but such as praise and please. + Flattered and fooled, victor in every sport, + One day he wandered idly with his court + Beside the river, seeking to devise + New ways to show his skill to wondering eyes. + There in the stream a patient angler stood, + And cast his line across the rippling flood. + His silver spoil lay near him on the green: + "Such fish," the courtiers cried, "were never seen! + Three salmon longer than a cloth-yard shaft-- + This man must be the master of his craft!" + "An easy art!" the jealous King replied: + "Myself could learn it better, if I tried, + And catch a hundred larger fish a week-- + Wilt thou accept the challenge, fellow? Speak!" + The angler turned, came near, and bent his knee: + "'Tis not for kings to strive with such as me; + Yet if the King commands it, I obey. + But one condition of the strife I pray: + The fisherman who brings the least to land + Shall do whate'er the other may command." + Loud laughed the King: "A foolish fisher thou! + For I shall win, and rule thee then as now." + + Then to Prince John, a sober soul, sedate + And slow, King Martin left the helm of State, + While to the novel game with eager zest + He all his time and all his powers addressed. + Sure such a sight was never seen before! + In robe and crown the monarch trod the shore; + His golden hooks were decked with feathers fine, + His jewelled reel ran out a silken line. + With kingly strokes he flogged the crystal stream; + Far-off the salmon saw his tackle gleam; + Careless of kings, they eyed with calm disdain + The gaudy lure, and Martin fished in vain. + On Friday, when the week was almost spent, + He scanned his empty creel with discontent, + Called for a net, and cast it far and wide, + And drew--a thousand minnows from the tide! + Then came the angler to conclude the match, + And at the monarch's feet spread out his catch-- + A hundred salmon, greater than before. + "I win!" he cried: "the King must pay the score." + Then Martin, angry, threw his tackle down: + "Rather than lose this game I'd lose my crown!" + "Nay, thou hast lost them both," the angler said; + And as he spoke a wondrous light was shed + Around his form; he dropped his garments mean, + And in his place the River-god was seen. + "Thy vanity has brought thee in my power, + And thou must pay the forfeit at this hour: + For thou hast shown thyself a royal fool, + Too proud to angle, and too vain to rule, + Eager to win in every trivial strife,-- + Go! Thou shalt fish for minnows all thy life!" + Wrathful, the King the magic sentence heard; + He strove to answer, but he only _chirr-r-ed_: + His royal robe was changed to wings of blue, + His crown a ruby crest,--away he flew! + + So every summer day along the stream + The vain King-fisher darts, an azure gleam, + And scolds the angler with a mocking scream. + +April, 1904. + + + +THE FOOLISH FIR-TREE + + + _A tale that the poet Rueckert told + To German children, in days of old; + Disguised in a random, rollicking rhyme + Like a merry mummer of ancient time, + And sent, in its English dress, to please + The little folk of the Christmas trees._ + + + A little fir grew in the midst of the wood + Contented and happy, as young trees should. + His body was straight and his boughs were clean; + And summer and winter the bountiful sheen + Of his needles bedecked him, from top to root, + In a beautiful, all-the-year, evergreen suit. + + But a trouble came into his heart one day, + When he saw that the other trees were gay + In the wonderful raiment that summer weaves + Of manifold shapes and kinds of leaves: + He looked at his needles so stiff and small, + And thought that his dress was the poorest of all. + Then jealousy clouded the little tree's mind, + And he said to himself, "It was not very kind + To give such an ugly old dress to a tree! + If the fays of the forest would only ask me, + I'd tell them how I should like to be dressed,-- + In a garment of gold, to bedazzle the rest!" + So he fell asleep, but his dreams were bad. + When he woke in the morning, his heart was glad; + For every leaf that his boughs could hold + Was made of the brightest beaten gold. + I tell you, children, the tree was proud; + He was something above the common crowd; + And he tinkled his leaves, as if he would say + To a pedlar who happened to pass that way, + "Just look at me! Don't you think I am fine? + And wouldn't you like such a dress as mine?" + "Oh, yes!" said the man, "and I really guess + I must fill my pack with your beautiful dress." + So he picked the golden leaves with care, + And left the little tree shivering there. + + "Oh, why did I wish for golden leaves?" + The fir-tree said, "I forgot that thieves + Would be sure to rob me in passing by. + If the fairies would give me another try, + I'd wish for something that cost much less, + And be satisfied with glass for my dress!" + Then he fell asleep; and, just as before, + The fairies granted his wish once more. + When the night was gone, and the sun rose clear, + The tree was a crystal chandelier; + And it seemed, as he stood in the morning light, + That his branches were covered with jewels bright. + "Aha!" said the tree. "This is something great!" + And he held himself up, very proud and straight; + But a rude young wind through the forest dashed, + In a reckless temper, and quickly smashed + The delicate leaves. With a clashing sound + They broke into pieces and fell on the ground, + Like a silvery, shimmering shower of hail, + And the tree stood naked and bare to the gale. + + Then his heart was sad; and he cried, "Alas + For my beautiful leaves of shining glass! + Perhaps I have made another mistake + In choosing a dress so easy to break. + If the fairies only would hear me again + I'd ask them for something both pretty and plain: + It wouldn't cost much to grant my request,-- + In leaves of green lettuce I'd like to be dressed!" + By this time the fairies were laughing, I know; + But they gave him his wish in a second; and so + With leaves of green lettuce, all tender and sweet, + The tree was arrayed, from his head to his feet. + "I knew it!" he cried, "I was sure I could find + The sort of a suit that would be to my mind. + There's none of the trees has a prettier dress, + And none as attractive as I am, I guess." + But a goat, who was taking an afternoon walk, + By chance overheard the fir-tree's talk. + So he came up close for a nearer view;-- + "My salad!" he bleated, "I think so too! + You're the most attractive kind of a tree, + And I want your leaves for my five-o'clock tea." + So he ate them all without saying grace, + And walked away with a grin on his face; + While the little tree stood in the twilight dim, + With never a leaf on a single limb. + + Then he sighed and groaned; but his voice was weak-- + He was so ashamed that he could not speak. + He knew at last he had been a fool, + To think of breaking the forest rule, + And choosing a dress himself to please, + Because he envied the other trees. + But it couldn't be helped, it was now too late, + He must make up his mind to a leafless fate! + So he let himself sink in a slumber deep, + But he moaned and he tossed in his troubled sleep, + Till the morning touched him with joyful beam, + And he woke to find it was all a dream. + For there in his evergreen dress he stood, + A pointed fir in the midst of the wood! + His branches were sweet with the balsam smell, + His needles were green when the white snow fell. + And always contented and happy was he,-- + The very best kind of a Christmas tree. + + + +"GRAN' BOULE" + +A SEAMAN'S TALE OF THE SEA + + + We men hat go down for a livin' in ships to the sea,-- + We love it a different way from you poets that 'bide on the land. + We are fond of it, sure! But, you take it as comin' from me, + There's a fear and a hate in our love that a landsman can't understand. + + Oh, who could help likin' the salty smell, and the blue + Of the waves that are lazily breathin' as if they dreamed in the sun? + She's a Sleepin' Beauty, the sea,--but you can't tell what she'll do; + And the seamen never trust her,--they know too well what she's done! + + She's a wench like one that I saw in a singin'-play,-- + Carmen they called her,--Lord, what a life her lovers did lead! + She'd cuddle and kiss you, and sing you and dance you away; + And then,--she'd curse you, and break you, and throw you down like a + weed. + + You may chance it awhile with the girls like that, if you please; + But you want a woman to trust when you settle down with a wife; + And a seaman's thought of growin' old at his ease + Is a snug little house on the land to shelter the rest of his life. + + So that was old Poisson's dream,--did you know the Cap'? + A brown little Frenchman, clever, and brave, and quick as a fish,-- + Had a wife and kids on the other side of the map,-- + And a rose-covered cottage for them and him was his darlin' wish. + + "I 'ave sail," says he, in his broken-up Frenchy talk, + "Mos' forty-two year; I 'ave go on all part of de worl' dat ees wet. + I'm seeck of de boat and de water. I rader walk + Wid ma Josephine in one garden; an' eef we get tire', we set! + + "You see dat _bateau_, _Sainte Brigitte_? I bring 'er dh'are + From de Breton coas', by gar, jus' feefteen year bifore. + She ole w'en she come on Kebec, but _Holloway Freres_ + Dey buy 'er, an' hire me run 'er along dat dam' Nort' Shore. + + "Dose engine one leetl' bit cranky,--too ole, you see,-- + She roll and peetch in de wave'. But I lak' 'er pretty well; + An' dat sheep she lak' 'er captaine, sure, dat's me! + Wit' forty ton coal in de bunker, I tek' dat sheep t'rou' hell. + + "But I don' wan' risk it no more; I had _bonne chance_: + I save already ten t'ousan' dollar', dat's plenty I s'pose! + Nex' winter I buy dat house wid de garden on France + An' I tell _adieu_ to de sea, and I leev' on de lan' in ripose." + + All summer he talked of his house,--you could see the flowers + Abloom, and the pear-trees trained on the garden-wall so trim, + And the Captain awalkin' and smokin' away the hours,-- + He thought he had done with the sea, but the sea hadn't done with him! + + It was late in the fall when he made the last regular run, + Clear down to the Esquimault Point and back with his rickety ship; + She hammered and pounded a lot, for the storms had begun; + But he drove her,--and went for his season's pay at the end of the trip. + + Now the Holloway Brothers are greedy and thin little men, + With their eyes set close together, and money's their only God; + So they told the Cap' he must run the "Bridget" again, + To fetch a cargo from Moisie, two thousand quintals of cod. + + He said the season was over. They said: "Not yet. + You finish the whole of your job, old man, or you don't draw a cent!" + (They had the "Bridget" insured for all they could get.) + And the Captain objected, and cursed, and cried. But he _went_. + + They took on the cargo at Moisie, and folks beside,-- + Three traders, a priest, and a couple of nuns, and a girl + For a school at Quebec,--when the Captain saw her he sighed, + And said: "Ma littl' Fifi got hair lak' dat, all curl!" + + The snow had fallen a foot, and the wind was high, + When the "Bridget" butted her way thro' the billows on Moisie bar. + The darkness grew with the gale, not a star in the sky, + And the Captain swore: "We mus' make _Sept Isles_ to-night, by gar!" + + He couldn't go back, for he didn't dare to turn; + The sea would have thrown the ship like a mustang noosed with a rope; + For the monstrous waves were leapin' high astern, + And the shelter of Seven Island Bay was the only hope. + + There's a bunch of broken hills half sunk in the mouth + Of the bay, with their jagged peaks afoam; and the Captain thought + He could pass to the north; but the sea kept shovin' him south, + With her harlot hands, in the snow-blind murk, till she had him caught. + + She had waited forty years for a night like this,-- + Did he think he could leave her now, and live in a cottage, the fool? + She headed him straight for the island he couldn't miss; + And heaved his boat in the dark,--and smashed it against _Gran' Boule_. + + How the Captain and half of the people clambered ashore, + Through the surf and the snow in the gloom of that horrible night, + There's no one ever will know. For two days more + The death-white shroud of the tempest covered the island from sight. + + How they suffered, and struggled, and died, will never be told; + We discovered them all at last when we reached _Gran' Boule_ with a boat; + The drowned and the frozen were lyin' stiff and cold, + And the poor little girl with the curls was wrapped in the Captain's + coat. + + Go write your song of the sea as the landsmen do, + And call her your "great sweet mother," your "bride," and all the rest; + She was made to be loved,--but remember, she won't love you,-- + The men who trust her the least are the sailors who know her the best. + + + +HEROES OF THE "TITANIC" + + + Honour the brave who sleep + Where the lost "Titanic" lies, + The men who knew what a man must do + When he looks Death in the eyes. + + "Women and children first,"-- + Ah, strong and tender cry! + The sons whom women had borne and nursed, + Remembered,--and dared to die. + + The boats crept off in the dark: + The great ship groaned: and then,-- + O stars of the night, who saw that sight, + Bear witness, _These were men!_ + +November 9, 1912. + + + +THE STANDARD-BEARER + + +I + + "How can I tell," Sir Edmund said, + "Who has the right or the wrong o' this thing? + Cromwell stands for the people's cause, + Charles is crowned by the ancient laws; + English meadows are sopping red, + Englishmen striking each other dead,-- + Times are black as a raven's wing. + Out of the ruck and the murk I see + Only one thing! + The King has trusted his banner to me, + And I must fight for the King." + + +II + + Into the thick of the Edgehill fight + Sir Edmund rode with a shout; and the ring + Of grim-faced, hard-hitting Parliament men + Swallowed him up,--it was one against ten! + He fought for the standard with all his might, + Never again did he come to sight-- + Victor, hid by the raven's wing! + After the battle had passed we found + Only one thing,-- + The hand of Sir Edmund gripped around + The banner-staff of his King. + +1914. + + + +THE PROUD LADY + + + When Staevoren town was in its prime + And queened the Zuyder Zee, + Her ships went out to every clime + With costly merchantry. + + A lady dwelt in that rich town, + The fairest in all the land; + She walked abroad in a velvet gown, + With many rings on her hand. + + Her hair was bright as the beaten gold, + Her lips as coral red, + Her roving eyes were blue and bold, + And her heart with pride was fed. + + For she was proud of her father's ships, + As she watched them gaily pass; + And pride looked out of her eyes and lips + When she saw herself in the glass. + + "Now come," she said to the captains ten, + Who were ready to put to sea, + "Ye are all my men and my father's men, + And what will ye do for me?" + + "Go north and south, go east and west, + And get me gifts," she said. + "And he who bringeth me home the best, + With that man will I wed." + + So they all fared forth, and sought with care + In many a famous mart, + For satins and silks and jewels rare, + To win that lady's heart. + + She looked at them all with never a thought, + And careless put them by; + "I am not fain of the things ye brought, + Enough of these have I." + + The last that came was the head of the fleet, + His name was Jan Borel; + He bent his knee at the lady's feet,-- + In truth he loved her well. + + "I've brought thee home the best i' the world, + A shipful of Danzig corn!" + She stared at him long; her red lips curled, + Her blue eyes filled with scorn. + + "Now out on thee, thou feckless kerl, + A loon thou art," she said. + "Am I a starving beggar girl? + Shall I ever lack for bread?" + + "Go empty all thy sacks of grain + Into the nearest sea, + And never show thy face again + To make a mock of me." + + Young Jan Borel, he answered naught, + But in the harbour cast + The sacks of golden corn he brought, + And groaned when fell the last. + + Then Jan Borel, he hoisted sail, + And out to sea he bore; + He passed the Helder in a gale + And came again no more. + + But the grains of corn went drifting down + Like devil-scattered seed, + To sow the harbour of the town + With a wicked growth of weed. + + The roots were thick and the silt and sand + Were gathered day by day, + Till not a furlong out from land + A shoal had barred the way. + + Then Staevoren town saw evil years, + No ships could out or in, + The boats lay rotting at the piers, + And the mouldy grain in the bin. + + The grass-grown streets were all forlorn, + The town in ruin stood, + The lady's velvet gown was torn, + Her rings were sold for food. + + Her father had perished long ago, + But the lady held her pride, + She walked with a scornful step and slow, + Till at last in her rags she died. + + Yet still on the crumbling piers of the town, + When the midnight moon shines free, + A woman walks in a velvet gown + And scatters corn in the sea. + +1917. + + + + +LYRICS OF LABOUR AND ROMANCE + + + +A MILE WITH ME + + + O who will walk a mile with me + Along life's merry way? + A comrade blithe and full of glee, + Who dares to laugh out loud and free, + And let his frolic fancy play, + Like a happy child, through the flowers gay + That fill the field and fringe the way + Where he walks a mile with me. + + And who will walk a mile with me + Along life's weary way? + A friend whose heart has eyes to see + The stars shine out o'er the darkening lea, + And the quiet rest at the end o' the day,-- + A friend who knows, and dares to say, + The brave, sweet words that cheer the way + Where he walks a mile with me. + + With such a comrade, such a friend, + I fain would walk till journeys end, + Through summer sunshine, winter rain, + And then?--Farewell, we shall meet again! + + + +THE THREE BEST THINGS + + +I + +WORK + + Let me but do my work from day to day, + In field or forest, at the desk or loom, + In roaring market-place or tranquil room; + Let me but find it in my heart to say, + When vagrant wishes beckon me astray, + "This is my work; my blessing, not my doom; + Of all who live, I am the one by whom + This work can best be done in the right way." + + Then shall I see it not too great, nor small, + To suit my spirit and to prove my powers; + Then shall I cheerful greet the labouring hours, + And cheerful turn, when the long shadows fall + At eventide, to play and love and rest, + Because I know for me my work is best. + + +II + +LOVE + + Let me but love my love without disguise, + Nor wear a mask of fashion old or new, + Nor wait to speak till I can hear a clue, + Nor play a part to shine in others' eyes, + Nor bow my knees to what my heart denies; + But what I am, to that let me be true, + And let me worship where my love is due, + And so through love and worship let me rise. + + For love is but the heart's immortal thirst + To be completely known and all forgiven, + Even as sinful souls that enter Heaven: + So take me, dear, and understand my worst, + And freely pardon it, because confessed, + And let me find in loving thee, my best. + + +III + +LIFE + + Let me but live my life from year to year, + With forward face and unreluctant soul; + Not hurrying to, nor turning from, the goal; + Not mourning for the things that disappear + In the dim past, nor holding back in fear + From what the future veils; but with a whole + And happy heart, that pays its toll + To Youth and Age, and travels on with cheer. + + So let the way wind up the hill or down, + O'er rough or smooth, the journey will be joy: + Still seeking what I sought when but a boy, + New friendship, high adventure, and a crown, + My heart will keep the courage of the quest, + And hope the road's last turn will be the best. + + + +RELIANCE + + + Not to the swift, the race: + Not to the strong, the fight: + Not to the righteous, perfect grace + Not to the wise, the light. + + But often faltering feet + Come surest to the goal; + And they who walk in darkness meet + The sunrise of the soul. + + A thousand times by night + The Syrian hosts have died; + A thousand times the vanquished right + Hath risen, glorified. + + The truth the wise men sought + Was spoken by a child; + The alabaster box was brought + In trembling hands defiled. + + Not from my torch, the gleam, + But from the stars above: + Not from my heart, life's crystal stream, + But from the depths of Love. + + + +DOORS OF DARING + + + The mountains that inclose the vale + With walls of granite, steep and high, + Invite the fearless foot to scale + Their stairway toward the sky. + + The restless, deep, dividing sea + That flows and foams from shore to shore, + Calls to its sunburned chivalry, + "Push out, set sail, explore!" + + The bars of life at which we fret, + That seem to prison and control, + Are but the doors of daring, set + Ajar before the soul. + + Say not, "Too poor," but freely give; + Sigh not, "Too weak," but boldly try; + You never can begin to live + Until you dare to die. + + + +THE CHILD IN THE GARDEN + + + When to the garden of untroubled thought + I came of late, and saw the open door, + And wished again to enter, and explore + The sweet, wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought, + And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught, + It seemed some purer voice must speak before + I dared to tread that garden loved of yore, + That Eden lost unknown and found unsought. + + Then just within the gate I saw a child,-- + A stranger-child, yet to my heart most dear; + He held his hands to me, and softly smiled + With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear: + "Come in," he said, "and play awhile with me; + I am the little child you used to be." + + + +LOVE'S REASON + + + For that thy face is fair I love thee not; + Nor yet because thy brown benignant eyes + Have sudden gleams of gladness and surprise, + Like woodland brooks that cross a sunlit spot: + Nor for thy body, born without a blot, + And loveliest when it shines with no disguise + Pure as the star of Eve in Paradise,-- + For all these outward things I love thee not: + + But for a something in thy form and face, + Thy looks and ways, of primal harmony; + A certain soothing charm, a vital grace + That breathes of the eternal womanly, + And makes me feel the warmth of Nature's breast, + When in her arms, and thine, I sink to rest. + + + +THE ECHO IN THE HEART + + + It's little I can tell + About the birds in books; + And yet I know them well, + By their music and their looks: + When May comes down the lane, + Her airy lovers throng + To welcome her with song, + And follow in her train: + Each minstrel weaves his part + In that wild-flowery strain, + And I know them all again + By their echo in my heart. + + It's little that I care + About my darling's place + In books of beauty rare, + Or heraldries of race: + For when she steps in view, + It matters not to me + What her sweet type may be, + Of woman, old or new. + I can't explain the art, + But I know her for my own, + Because her lightest tone + Wakes an echo in my heart. + + + +"UNDINE" + + + 'Twas far away and long ago, + When I was but a dreaming boy, + This fairy tale of love and woe + Entranced my heart with tearful joy; + And while with white Undine I wept + Your spirit,--ah, how strange it seems,-- + Was cradled in some star, and slept, + Unconscious of her coming dreams. + + + +"RENCONTRE" + + + Oh, was I born too soon, my dear, or were you born too late, + That I am going out the door while you come in the gate? + For you the garden blooms galore, the castle is _en fete_; + You are the coming guest, my dear,--for me the horses wait. + + I know the mansion well, my dear, its rooms so rich and wide; + If you had only come before I might have been your guide, + And hand in hand with you explore the treasures that they hide; + But you have come to stay, my dear, and I prepare to ride. + + Then walk with me an hour, my dear, and pluck the reddest rose + Amid the white and crimson store with which your garden glows,-- + A single rose,--I ask no more of what your love bestows; + It is enough to give, my dear,--a flower to him who goes. + + The House of Life is yours, my dear, for many and many a day, + But I must ride the lonely shore, the Road to Far Away: + So bring the stirrup-cup and pour a brimming draught, I pray, + And when you take the road, my dear, I'll meet you on the way. + + + +LOVE IN A LOOK + + + Let me but feel thy look's embrace, + Transparent, pure, and warm, + And I'll not ask to touch thy face, + Or fold thee in mine arm. + For in thine eyes a girl doth rise, + Arrayed in candid bliss, + And draws me to her with a charm + More close than any kiss. + + A loving-cup of golden wine, + Songs of a silver brook, + And fragrant breaths of eglantine, + Are mingled in thy look. + More fair they are than any star, + Thy topaz eyes divine-- + And deep within their trysting-nook + Thy spirit blends with mine. + + + +MY APRIL LADY + + + When down the stair at morning + The sunbeams round her float, + Sweet rivulets of laughter + Are rippling in her throat; + The gladness of her greeting + Is gold without alloy; + And in the morning sunlight + I think her name is Joy. + + When in the evening twilight + The quiet book-room lies, + We read the sad old ballads, + While from her hidden eyes + The tears are falling, falling, + That give her heart relief; + And in the evening twilight, + I think her name is Grief. + + My little April lady, + Of sunshine and of showers + She weaves the old spring magic, + And my heart breaks in flowers! + But when her moods are ended, + She nestles like a dove; + Then, by the pain and rapture, + I know her name is Love. + + + +A LOVER'S ENVY + + + I envy every flower that blows + Along the meadow where she goes, + And every bird that sings to her, + And every breeze that brings to her + The fragrance of the rose. + + I envy every poet's rhyme + That moves her heart at eventime, + And every tree that wears for her + Its brightest bloom, and bears for her + The fruitage of its prime. + + I envy every Southern night + That paves her path with moonbeams white, + And silvers all the leaves for her, + And in their shadow weaves for her + A dream of dear delight. + + I envy none whose love requires + Of her a gift, a task that tires: + I only long to live to her, + I only ask to give to her, + All that her heart desires. + + + +FIRE-FLY CITY + + + Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, + Bearing me far away, after a perfect day of love's delight: + Wakeful with all the sad-sweet memories of parting, + I lift the narrow window-shade and look out on the night. + + Lonely the land unknown, and like a river flowing, + Forest and field and hill are gliding backward still athwart my dream; + Till in that country strange, and ever stranger growing, + A magic city full of lights begins to glow and gleam. + + Wide through the landscape dim the lamps are lit in millions; + Long avenues unfold clear-shining lines of gold across the green; + Clusters and rings of light, and luminous pavilions,-- + Oh, who will tell the city's name, and what these wonders mean? + + Why do they beckon me, and what have they to show me? + Crowds in the blazing street, mirth where the feasters meet, kisses and + wine: + Many to laugh with me, but never one to know me: + A cityful of stranger-hearts and none to beat with mine! + + Look how the glittering lines are wavering and lifting,-- + Softly the breeze of night scatters the vision bright: and, passing + fair, + Over the meadow-grass and through the forest drifting, + The Fire-Fly City of the Dark is lost in empty air! + + + +THE GENTLE TRAVELLER + + + "Through many a land your journey ran, + And showed the best the world can boast: + Now tell me, traveller, if you can, + The place that pleased you most." + + She laid her hands upon my breast, + And murmured gently in my ear, + "The place I loved and liked the best + Was in your arms, my dear!" + + + +NEPENTHE + + + Yes, it was like you to forget, + And cancel in the welcome of your smile + My deep arrears of debt, + And with the putting forth of both your hands + To sweep away the bars my folly set + Between us--bitter thoughts, and harsh demands, + And reckless deeds that seemed untrue + To love, when all the while + My heart was aching through and through + For you, sweet heart, and only you. + + Yet, as I turned to come to you again, + I thought there must be many a mile + Of sorrowful reproach to cross, + And many an hour of mutual pain + To bear, until I could make plain + That all my pride was but the fear of loss, + And all my doubt the shadow of despair + To win a heart so innocent and fair; + And even that which looked most ill + Was but the fever-fret and effort vain + To dull the thirst which you alone could still. + + But as I turned, the desert miles were crossed, + And when I came, the weary hours were sped! + For there you stood beside the open door, + Glad, gracious, smiling as before, + And with bright eyes and tender hands outspread + Restored me to the Eden I had lost. + Never a word of cold reproof, + No sharp reproach, no glances that accuse + The culprit whom they hold aloof,-- + Ah, 'tis not thus that other women use + The empire they have won! + For there is none like you, beloved,--none + Secure enough to do what you have done. + Where did you learn this heavenly art,-- + You sweetest and most wise of all that live,-- + With silent welcome to impart + Assurance of the royal heart + That never questions where it would forgive? + + None but a queen could pardon me like this! + My sovereign lady, let me lay + Within each rosy palm a loyal kiss + Of penitence, then close the fingers up, + Thus--thus! Now give the cup + Of full nepenthe in your crimson mouth, + And come--the garden blooms with bliss, + The wind is in the south, + The rose of love with dew is wet-- + Dear, it was like you to forget! + + + +DAY AND NIGHT + + + _How long is the night, brother, + And how long is the day?_ + Oh, the day's too short for a happy task, + And the day's too short for play; + And the night's too short for the bliss of love, + For look, how the edge of the sky grows gray, + While the stars die out in the blue above, + And the wan moon fades away. + + _How short is the day, brother, + And how short is the night?_ + Oh, the day's too long for a heavy task, + And long, long, long is the night, + When the wakeful hours are filled with pain, + And the sad heart waits for the thing it fears, + And sighs for the dawn to come again,-- + The night is a thousand years! + + _How long is a life, dear God, + And how fast does it flow?_ + The measure of life is a flame in the soul: + It is neither swift nor slow. + But the vision of time is the shadow cast + By the fleeting world on the body's wall; + When it fades there is neither future nor past, + But love is all in all. + + + +HESPER + + + Her eyes are like the evening air, + Her voice is like a rose, + Her lips are like a lovely song, + That ripples as it flows, + And she herself is sweeter than + The sweetest thing she knows. + + A slender, haunting, twilight form + Of wonder and surprise, + She seemed a fairy or a child, + Till, deep within her eyes, + I saw the homeward-leading star + Of womanhood arise. + + + +ARRIVAL + + + Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land, + Along a path I had not traced and could not understand, + I travelled fast and far for this,--to take thee by the hand. + + A pilgrim knowing not the shrine where he would bend his knee, + A mariner without a dream of what his port would be, + So fared I with a seeking heart until I came to thee. + + O cooler than a grove of palm in some heat-weary place, + O fairer than an isle of calm after the wild sea race, + The quiet room adorned with flowers where first I saw thy face! + + Then furl the sail, let fall the oar, forget the paths of foam! + The fate that made me wander far at last has brought me home + To thee, dear haven of my heart, and I no more will roam. + + + +DEPARTURE + + + Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, + And why is the garden so gay? + Do you know that my days of delight are done, + Do you know I am going away? + If you covered your face with a cloud, I'd dream + You were sorry for me in my pain, + And the heavily drooping flowers would seem + To be weeping with me in the rain. + + But why is your head so low, sweet heart, + And why are your eyes overcast? + Are you crying because you know we must part, + Do you think this embrace is our last? + Then kiss me again, and again, and again, + Look up as you bid me good-bye! + For your face is too dear for the stain of a tear, + And your smile is the sun in my sky. + + + +THE BLACK BIRDS + + +I + + Once, only once, I saw it clear,-- + That Eden every human heart has dreamed + A hundred times, but always far away! + Ah, well do I remember how it seemed, + Through the still atmosphere + Of that enchanted day, + To lie wide open to my weary feet: + A little land of love and joy and rest, + With meadows of soft green, + Rosy with cyclamen, and sweet + With delicate breath of violets unseen,-- + And, tranquil 'mid the bloom + As if it waited for a coming guest, + A little house of peace and joy and love + Was nested like a snow-white dove. + + +II + + From the rough mountain where I stood, + Homesick for happiness, + Only a narrow valley and a darkling wood + To cross, and then the long distress + Of solitude would be forever past,-- + I should be home at last. + But not too soon! oh, let me linger here + And feed my eyes, hungry with sorrow, + On all this loveliness, so near, + And mine to-morrow! + + +III + + Then, from the wood, across the silvery blue, + A dark bird flew, + Silent, with sable wings. + Close in his wake another came,-- + Fragments of midnight floating through + The sunset flame,-- + Another and another, weaving rings + Of blackness on the primrose sky,-- + Another, and another, look, a score, + A hundred, yes, a thousand rising heavily + From that accursed, dumb, and ancient wood, + They boiled into the lucid air + Like smoke from some deep caldron of despair! + And more, and more, and ever more, + The numberless, ill-omened brood + Flapping their ragged plumes, + Possessed the landscape and the evening light + With menaces and glooms. + Oh, dark, dark, dark they hovered o'er the place + Where once I saw the little house so white + Amid the flowers, covering every trace + Of beauty from my troubled sight,-- + And suddenly it was night! + + +IV + + At break of day I crossed the wooded vale; + And while the morning made + A trembling light among the tree-tops pale, + I saw the sable birds on every limb, + Clinging together closely in the shade, + And croaking placidly their surly hymn. + But, oh, the little land of peace and love + That those night-loving wings had poised above,-- + Where was it gone? + Lost, lost, forevermore! + Only a cottage, dull and gray, + In the cold light of dawn, + With iron bars across the door: + Only a garden where the drooping head + Of one sad rose, foreboding its decay, + Hung o'er a barren bed: + Only a desolate field that lay + Untilled beneath the desolate day,-- + Where Eden seemed to bloom I found but these! + So, wondering, I passed along my way, + With anger in my heart, too deep for words, + Against that grove of evil-sheltering trees, + And the black magic of the croaking birds. + + + +WITHOUT DISGUISE + + + If I have erred in showing all my heart, + And lost your favour by a lack of pride; + If standing like a beggar at your side + With naked feet, I have forgot the art + Of those who bargain well in passion's mart, + And win the thing they want by what they hide; + Be mine the fault as mine the hope denied, + Be mine the lover's and the loser's part. + + The sin, if sin it was, I do repent, + And take the penance on myself alone; + Yet after I have borne the punishment, + I shall not fear to stand before the throne + Of Love with open heart, and make this plea: + "At least I have not lied to her nor Thee!" + + + +AN HOUR + + + You only promised me a single hour: + But in that hour I journeyed through a year + Of life: the joy of finding you,--the fear + Of losing you again,--the sense of power + To make you all my own,--the sudden shower + Of tears that came because you were more dear + Than words could ever tell you,--then,--the clear + Soft rapture when I plucked love's crimson flower. + + An hour,--a year,--I felt your bosom rise + And fall with mystic tides, and saw the gleam + Of undiscovered stars within your eyes,-- + A year,--an hour? I knew not, for the stream + Of love had carried me to Paradise, + Where all the forms of Time are like a dream. + + + +"RAPPELLE-TOI" + + + Remember, when the timid light + Through the enchanted hall of dawn is gleaming; + Remember, when the pensive night + Beneath her silver-sprinkled veil walks dreaming; + When pleasure calls thee and thy heart beats high, + When tender joys through evening shades draw nigh, + Hark, from the woodland deeps + A gentle whisper creeps, + Remember! + + Remember, when the hand of fate + My life from thine forevermore has parted; + When sorrow, exile, and the weight + Of lonely years have made me heavy-hearted; + Think of my loyal love, my last adieu; + Absence and time are naught, if we are true; + Long as my heart shall beat, + To thine it will repeat, + Remember! + + Remember, when the cool, dark tomb + Receives my heart into its quiet keeping, + And some sweet flower begins to bloom + Above the grassy mound where I am sleeping; + Ah then, my face thou nevermore shalt see, + But still my soul will linger close to thee, + And in the holy place of night, + The litany of love recite,-- + Remember! + +_Freely rendered from the French of Alfred de Musset._ + + + +LOVE'S NEARNESS + + + I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer + Across the sea; + And when the waves reflect the moon's pale shimmer + I think of thee. + + I see thy form when down the distant highway + The dust-clouds rise; + In darkest night, above the mountain by-way + I see thine eyes. + + I hear thee when the ocean-tides returning + Aloud rejoice; + And on the lonely moor in silence yearning + I hear thy voice. + + I dwell with thee; though thou art far removed, + Yet thou art near. + The sun goes down, the stars shine out,--Beloved + If thou wert here! + +_From the German of Goethe_, 1898. + + + +TWO SONGS OF HEINE + + +I + +"EIN FICHTENBAUM" + + A fir-tree standeth lonely + On a barren northern height, + Asleep, while winter covers + His rest with robes of white. + + In dreams, he sees a palm-tree + In the golden morning-land; + She droops alone and silent + In burning wastes of sand. + + +II + +"DU BIST WIE EINE BLUME" + + Fair art thou as a flower + And innocent and shy: + I look on thee and sorrow; + I grieve, I know not why. + + I long to lay, in blessing, + My hand upon thy brow, + And pray that God may keep thee + As fair and pure as now. + +1872. + + + +EIGHT ECHOES FROM THE POEMS OF AUGUSTE ANGELLIER + + +I + +THE IVORY CRADLE + + The cradle I have made for thee + Is carved of orient ivory, + And curtained round with wavy silk + More white than hawthorn-bloom or milk. + + A twig of box, a lilac spray, + Will drive the goblin-horde away; + And charm thy childlike heart to keep + Her happy dream and virgin sleep. + + Within that pure and fragrant nest, + I'll rock thy gentle soul to rest, + With tender songs we need not fear + To have a passing angel hear. + + Ah, long and long I fain would hold + The snowy curtain's guardian fold + Around thy crystal visions, born + In clearness of the early morn. + + But look, the sun is glowing red + With triumph in his golden bed; + Aurora's virgin whiteness dies + In crimson glory of the skies. + + The rapid flame will burn its way + Through these white curtains, too, one day; + The ivory cradle will be left + Undone, and broken, and bereft. + + +II + +DREAMS + + Often I dream your big blue eyes, + Though loth their meaning to confess, + Regard me with a clear surprise + Of dawning tenderness. + + Often I dream you gladly hear + The words I hardly dare to breathe,-- + The words that falter in their fear + To tell what throbs beneath. + + Often I dream your hand in mine + Falls like a flower at eventide, + And down the path we leave a line + Of footsteps side by side. + + But ah, in all my dreams of bliss, + In passion's hunger, fever's drouth, + I never dare to dream of this: + My lips upon your mouth. + + And so I dream your big blue eyes, + That look on me with tenderness, + Grow wide, and deep, and sad, and wise, + And dim with dear distress. + + +III + +THE GARLAND OF SLEEP + + A wreath of poppy flowers, + With leaves of lotus blended, + Is carved on Life's facade of hours, + From night to night suspended. + + Along the columned wall, + From birth's low portal starting, + It flows, with even rise and fall, + To death's dark door of parting. + + How short each measured arc, + How brief the columns' number! + The wreath begins and ends in dark, + And leads from sleep to slumber. + + The marble garland seems, + With braided leaf and bloom, + To deck the palace of our dreams + As if it were a tomb. + + +IV + +TRANQUIL HABIT + + Dear tranquil Habit, with her silent hands, + Doth heal our deepest wounds from day to day + With cooling, soothing oil, and firmly lay + Around the broken heart her gentle bands. + + Her nursing is as calm as Nature's care; + She doth not weep with us; yet none the less + Her quiet fingers weave forgetfulness,-- + We fall asleep in peace when she is there. + + Upon the mirror of the mind her breath + Is like a cloud, to hide the fading trace + Of that dear smile, of that remembered face, + Whose presence were the joy and pang of death. + + And he who clings to sorrow overmuch, + Weeping for withered grief, has cause to bless, + More than all cries of pity and distress,-- + Dear tranquil Habit, thy consoling touch! + + +V + +THE OLD BRIDGE + + On the old, old bridge, with its crumbling stones + All covered with lichens red and gray, + Two lovers were talking in sweet low tones: + And we were they! + + As he leaned to breathe in her willing ear + The love that he vowed would never die, + He called her his darling, his dove most dear: + And he was I! + + She covered her face from the pale moonlight + With her trembling hands, but her eyes looked through, + And listened and listened with long delight: + And she was you! + + On the old, old bridge, where the lichens rust, + Two lovers are learning the same old lore; + He tells his love, and she looks her trust: + But we,--no more! + + +VI + +EYES AND LIPS + + +1 + + Our silent eyes alone interpreted + The new-born feeling in the heart of each: + In yours I read your sorrow without speech, + Your lonely struggle in their tears unshed. + Behind their dreamy sweetness, as a veil, + I saw the moving lights of trouble shine; + And then my eyes were brightened as with wine, + My spirit reeled to see your face grow pale! + + Our deepening love, that is not yet allowed + Another language than the eyes, doth learn + To speak it perfectly: above the crowd + Our looks exchange avowals and desires,-- + Like wave-divided beacon lights that burn, + And talk to one another by their fires. + + +2 + + When I embrace her in a fragrant shrine + Of climbing roses, my first kiss shall fall + On you, sweet eyes, that mutely told me all,-- + Through you my soul will rise to make her mine. + Upon your drooping lids, blue-veined and fair, + The touch of tenderness I first will lay, + You springs of joy, lights of my gloomy day, + Whose dear discovered secret bade me dare! + + And when you open, eyes of my fond dove, + Your look will shine with new delight, made sure + By this forerunner of a faithful love. + Tis just, dear eyes, so pensive and so pure, + That you should bear the sealing kisses true + Of love unhoped that came to me through you. + + +3 + + This was my thought; but when beneath the rose + That hides the lonely bench where lovers rest, + In friendly dusk I held her on my breast + For one brief moment,--while I saw you close, + Dear, yielding eyes, as if your lids, blue-veined + And pure, were meekly fain at last to bear + The proffered homage of my wistful prayer,-- + In that high moment, by your grace obtained, + + Forgetting your avowals, your alarms, + Your anguish and your tears, sweet weary eyes, + Forgetting that you gave her to my arms, + I broke my promise; and my first caress, + Ungrateful, sought her lips in sweet surprise,-- + Her lips, which breathed a word of tenderness! + + +VII + +AN EVOCATION + + When first upon my brow I felt your kiss, + A sudden splendour filled me, like the ray + That promptly runs to crown the hills with bliss + Of purple dawn before the golden day, + And ends the gloom it crosses at one leap. + My brow was not unworthy your caress; + For some foreboding joy had bade me keep + From all affront the place your lips would bless. + + Yet when your mouth upon my mouth did lay + The royal touch, no rapture made me thrill, + But I remained confused, ashamed, and still. + Beneath your kiss, my queen without a stain, + I felt,--like ghosts who rise at Judgment Day,-- + A throng of ancient kisses vile and vain! + + +VIII + +RESIGNATION + + +1 + + Well, you will triumph, dear and noble friend! + The holy love that wounded you so deep + Will bring you balm, and on your heart asleep + The fragrant dew of healing will descend. + Your children,--ah, how quickly they will grow + Between us, like a wall that fronts the sun, + Lifting a screen with rosy buds o'errun, + To hide the shaded path where I must go. + + You'll walk in light; and dreaming less and less + Of him who droops in gloom beyond the wall, + Your mother-soul will fill with happiness + When first you hear your grandchild's babbling call, + Beneath the braided bloom of flower and leaf + That We has wrought to veil your vanished grief. + + +2 + + Then I alone shall suffer! I shall bear + The double burden of our grief alone, + While I enlarge my soul to take your share + Of pain and hold it close beside my own. + Our love is torn asunder; but the crown + Of thorns that love has woven I will make + My relic sacrosanct, and press it down + Upon my bleeding heart that will not break. + + Ah, that will be the depth of solitude! + For my regret, that evermore endures, + Will know that new-born hope has conquered yours; + And when the evening comes, no gentle brood + Of wondering children, gathered at my side, + Will soothe away the tears I cannot hide. + +_Freely rendered from the French_, 1911. + + + +RAPPEL D'AMOUR + + + Come home, my love, come home! + The twilight is falling, + The whippoorwill calling, + The night is very near, + And the darkness full of fear, + Come home to my arms, come home! + + Come home, my love, come home! + In folly we parted, + And now, lonely hearted, + I know you look in vain + For a love like mine again; + Come home to my arms, come home! + + Come home, dear love, come home! + I've much to forgive you, + And more yet to give you. + I'll put a little light + In the window every night,-- + Come home to my arms, come home. + + + +THE RIVER OF DREAMS + + + The river of dreams runs quietly down + From its hidden home in the forest of sleep, + With a measureless motion calm and deep; + And my boat slips out on the current brown, + In a tranquil bay where the trees incline + Far over the waves, and creepers twine + Far over the boughs, as if to steep + Their drowsy bloom in the tide that goes + By a secret way that no man knows, + Under the branches bending, + Under the shadows blending, + And the body rests, and the passive soul + Is drifted along to an unseen goal, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs gently down, + With a leisurely flow that bears my bark + Out of the visionless woods of dark, + Into a glory that seems to crown + Valley and hill with light from far, + Clearer than sun or moon or star, + Luminous, wonderful, weird, oh, mark + How the radiance pulses everywhere, + In the shadowless vault of lucid air! + Over the mountains shimmering, + Up from the fountains glimmering,-- + Tis the mystical glow of the inner light, + That shines in the very noon of night, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs murmuring down, + Through the fairest garden that ever grew; + And now, as my boat goes drifting through, + A hundred voices arise to drown + The river's whisper, and charm my ear + With a sound I have often longed to hear,-- + A magical music, strange and new, + The wild-rose ballad, the lilac-song, + The virginal chant of the lilies' throng, + Blue-bells silverly ringing, + Pansies merrily singing,-- + For all the flowers have found their voice; + And I feel no wonder, but only rejoice, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs broadening down, + Away from the peaceful garden-shore, + With a current that deepens more and more, + By the league-long walls of a mighty town; + And I see the hurrying crowds of men + Gather like clouds and dissolve again; + But never a face I have seen before. + They come and go, they shift and change, + Their ways and looks are wild and strange,-- + This is a city haunted, + A multitude enchanted! + At the sight of the throng I am dumb with fear, + And never a sound from their lips I hear, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs darkly down + Into the heart of a desolate land, + With ruined temples half-buried in sand, + And riven hills, whose black brows frown + Over the shuddering, lonely wave. + The air grows dim with the dust of the grave; + No sign of life on the dreary strand; + No ray of light on the mountain's crest; + And a weary wind that cannot rest + Comes down the valley creeping, + Lamenting, wailing, weeping,-- + I strive to cry out, but my fluttering breath + Is choked with the clinging fog of death, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs trembling down, + Out of the valley of nameless fear, + Into a country calm and clear, + With a mystical name of high renown,-- + A name that I know, but may not tell,-- + And there the friends that I loved so well, + Old companions forever dear, + Come beckoning down to the river shore, + And hail my boat with the voice of yore. + Fair and sweet are the places + Where I see their unchanged faces! + And I feel in my heart with a secret thrill, + That the loved and lost are living still, + While the river of dreams runs down. + + The river of dreams runs dimly down + By a secret way that no man knows; + But the soul lives on while the river flows + Through the gardens bright and the forests brown; + And I often think that our whole life seems + To be more than half made up of dreams. + The changing sights and the passing shows, + The morning hopes and the midnight fears, + Are left behind with the vanished years; + Onward, with ceaseless motion, + The life-stream flows to the ocean, + While we follow the tide, awake or asleep, + Till we see the dawn on Love's great deep, + And the shadows melt, and the soul is free,-- + The river of dreams has reached the sea. + +1900. + + + + +SONGS OF HEARTH AND ALTAR + + + +A HOME SONG + + + I read within a poet's book + A word that starred the page: + "Stone walls do not a prison make, + Nor iron bars a cage!" + + Yes, that is true, and something more: + You'll find, where'er you roam, + That marble floors and gilded walls + Can never make a home. + + But every house where Love abides, + And Friendship is a guest, + Is surely home, and home-sweet-home: + For there the heart can rest. + + + +"LITTLE BOATIE" + +A SLUMBER-SONG FOR THE FISHERMAN'S CHILD + + + Furl your sail, my little boatie; + Here's the haven still and deep, + Where the dreaming tides in-streaming + Up the channel creep. + Now the sunset breeze is dying; + Hear the plover, landward flying, + Softly down the twilight crying; + Come to anchor, little boatie, + In the port of Sleep. + + Far away, my little boatie, + Roaring waves are white with foam; + Ships are striving, onward driving, + Day and night they roam. + Father's at the deep-sea trawling, + In the darkness, rowing, hauling, + While the hungry winds are calling,-- + God protect him, little boatie, + Bring him safely home! + + Not for you, my little boatie, + Is the wide and weary sea; + You're too slender, and too tender, + You must bide with me. + All day long you have been straying + Up and down the shore and playing; + Come to harbour, no delaying! + Day is over, little boatie, + Night falls suddenly. + + Furl your sail, my little boatie, + Fold your wings, my weary dove. + Dews are sprinkling, stars are twinkling + Drowsily above. + Cease from sailing, cease from rowing; + Rock upon the dream-tide, knowing + Safely o'er your rest are glowing, + All the night, my little boatie, + Harbour-lights of love. + +1897. + + + +A MOTHER'S BIRTHDAY + + + Lord Jesus, Thou hast known + A mother's love and tender care: + And Thou wilt hear, + While for my own + Mother most dear + I make this birthday prayer. + + Protect her life, I pray, + Who gave the gift of life to me; + And may she know, + From day to day, + The deepening glow + Of joy that comes from Thee. + + As once upon her breast + Fearless and well content I lay, + So let her heart, + On Thee at rest, + Feel fear depart + And trouble fade away. + + Ah, hold her by the hand, + As once her hand held mine; + And though she may + Not understand + Life's winding way, + Lead her in peace divine. + + I cannot pay my debt + For all the love that she has given; + But Thou, love's Lord, + Wilt not forget + Her due reward,-- + Bless her in earth and heaven. + + + +TRANSFORMATION + + + Only a little shrivelled seed, + It might be flower, or grass, or weed; + Only a box of earth on the edge + Of a narrow, dusty window-ledge; + Only a few scant summer showers; + Only a few clear shining hours; + That was all. Yet God could make + Out of these, for a sick child's sake, + A blossom-wonder, fair and sweet + As ever broke at an angel's feet. + + Only a life of barren pain, + Wet with sorrowful tears for rain, + Warmed sometimes by a wandering gleam + Of joy, that seemed but a happy dream; + A life as common and brown and bare + As the box of earth in the window there; + Yet it bore, at last, the precious bloom + Of a perfect soul in that narrow room; + Pure as the snowy leaves that fold + Over the flower's heart of gold. + + + +RENDEZVOUS + + + I count that friendship little worth + Which has not many things untold, + Great longings that no words can hold, + And passion-secrets waiting birth. + + Along the slender wires of speech + Some message from the heart is sent; + But who can tell the whole that's meant? + Our dearest thoughts are out of reach. + + I have not seen thee, though mine eyes + Hold now the image of thy face; + In vain, through form, I strive to trace + The soul I love: that deeper lies. + + A thousand accidents control + Our meeting here. Clasp hand in hand, + And swear to meet me in that land + Where friends hold converse soul to soul. + + + +GRATITUDE + + + "Do you give thanks for this?--or that?" No, God be thanked + I am not grateful + In that cold, calculating way, with blessings ranked + As one, two, three, and four,--that would be hateful. + + I only know that every day brings good above + My poor deserving; + I only feel that in the road of Life true Love + Is leading me along and never swerving. + + Whatever gifts and mercies to my lot may fall, + I would not measure + As worth a certain price in praise, or great or small; + But take and use them all with simple pleasure. + + For when we gladly eat our daily bread, we bless + The Hand that feeds us; + And when we tread the road of Life in cheerfulness, + Our very heart-beats praise the Love that leads us. + + + +PEACE + + + With eager heart and will on fire, + I strove to win my great desire. + "Peace shall be mine," I said; but life + Grew bitter in the barren strife. + + My soul was weary, and my pride + Was wounded deep; to Heaven I cried, + "God grant me peace or I must die;" + The dumb stars glittered no reply. + + Broken at last, I bowed my head, + Forgetting all myself, and said, + "Whatever comes, His will be done;" + And in that moment peace was won. + + + +SANTA CHRISTINA + + + Saints are God's flowers, fragrant souls + That His own hand hath planted, + Not in some far-off heavenly place, + Or solitude enchanted, + But here and there and everywhere,-- + In lonely field, or crowded town, + God sees a flower when He looks down. + + Some wear the lily's stainless white, + And some the rose of passion, + And some the violet's heavenly blue, + But each in its own fashion, + With silent bloom and soft perfume, + Is praising Him who from above + Beholds each lifted face of love. + + One such I knew,--and had the grace + To thank my God for knowing: + The beauty of her quiet life + Was like a rose in blowing, + So fair and sweet, so all-complete + And all unconscious, as a flower, + That light and fragrance were her dower. + + No convent-garden held this rose, + Concealed like secret treasure; + No royal terrace guarded her + For some sole monarch's pleasure. + She made her shrine, this saint of mine, + In a bright home where children played; + And there she wrought and there she prayed. + + In sunshine, when the days were glad, + She had the art of keeping + The clearest rays, to give again + In days of rain and weeping; + Her blessed heart could still impart + Some portion of its secret grace, + And charity shone in her face. + + In joy she grew from year to year; + And sorrow made her sweeter; + And every comfort, still more kind; + And every loss, completer. + Her children came to love her name,-- + "Christina,"--'twas a lip's caress; + And when they called, they seemed to bless. + + No more they call, for she is gone + Too far away to hear them; + And yet they often breathe her name + As if she lingered near them; + They cannot reach her with love's speech, + But when they say "Christina" now + 'Tis like a prayer or like a vow: + + A vow to keep her life alive + In deeds of pure affection, + So that her love shall find in them + A daily resurrection; + A constant prayer that they may wear + Some touch of that supernal light + With which she blossoms in God's sight. + + + +THE BARGAIN + + + What shall I give for thee, + Thou Pearl of greatest price? + For all the treasures I possess + Would not suffice. + + I give my store of gold; + It is but earthly dross: + But thou wilt make me rich, beyond + All fear of loss. + + Mine honours I resign; + They are but small at best: + Thou like a royal star wilt shine + Upon my breast. + + My worldly joys I give, + The flowers with which I played; + Thy beauty, far more heavenly fair, + Shall never fade. + + Dear Lord, is that enough? + _Nay, not a thousandth part._ + Well, then, I have but one thing more: + Take Thou my heart. + + + +TO THE CHILD JESUS + + +I + +THE NATIVITY + + Could every time-worn heart but see Thee once again, + A happy human child, among the homes of men, + The age of doubt would pass,--the vision of Thy face + Would silently restore the childhood of the race. + + +II + +THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT + + Thou wayfaring Jesus, a pilgrim and stranger, + Exiled from heaven by love at thy birth, + Exiled again from thy rest in the manger, + A fugitive child 'mid the perils of earth,-- + Cheer with thy fellowship all who are weary, + Wandering far from the land that they love; + Guide every heart that is homeless and dreary, + Safe to its home in thy presence above. + + + +BITTER-SWEET + + + Just to give up, and trust + All to a Fate unknown, + Plodding along life's road in the dust, + Bounded by walls of stone; + Never to have a heart at peace; + Never to see when care will cease; + Just to be still when sorrows fall-- + This is the bitterest lesson of all. + + Just to give up, and rest + All on a Love secure, + Out of a world that's hard at the best, + Looking to heaven as sure; + Ever to hope, through cloud and fear, + In darkest night, that the dawn is near; + Just to wait at the Master's feet-- + Surely, now, the bitter is sweet. + + + +HYMN OF JOY + +TO THE MUSIC OF BEETHOVEN'S NINTH SYMPHONY + + + Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, + God of glory, Lord of love; + Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee, + Praising Thee their sun above. + Melt the clouds of sin and sadness; + Drive the dark of doubt away; + Giver of immortal gladness, + Fill us with the light of day! + + All Thy works with joy surround Thee, + Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays, + Stars and angels sing around Thee, + Centre of unbroken praise: + Field and forest, vale and mountain, + Blooming meadow, flashing sea, + Chanting bird and flowing fountain, + Call us to rejoice in Thee. + + Thou art giving and forgiving, + Ever blessing, ever blest, + Well-spring of the joy of living, + Ocean-depth of happy rest! + Thou our Father, Christ our Brother,-- + All who live in love are Thine: + Teach us how to love each other, + Lift us to the Joy Divine. + + Mortals join the mighty chorus, + Which the morning stars began; + Father-love is reigning o'er us, + Brother-love binds man to man. + Ever singing march we onward, + Victors in the midst of strife; + Joyful music lifts us sunward + In the triumph song of life. + +1908. + + + +SONG OF A PILGRIM-SOUL + + + March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay! + March swiftly on. Yet err not from the way + Where all the nobly wise of old have trod,-- + The path of faith, made by the sons of God. + + Follow the marks that they have set beside + The narrow, cloud-swept track, to be thy guide: + Follow, and honour what the past has gained, + And forward still, that more may be attained. + + Something to learn, and something to forget: + Hold fast the good, and seek the better yet: + Press on, and prove the pilgrim-hope of youth: + The Creeds are milestones on the road to Truth. + + + +ODE TO PEACE + + +I + +IN EXCELSIS + + Two dwellings, Peace, are thine. + One is the mountain-height, + Uplifted in the loneliness of light + Beyond the realm of shadows,--fine, + And far, and clear,--where advent of the night + Means only glorious nearness of the stars, + And dawn unhindered breaks above the bars + That long the lower world in twilight keep. + Thou sleepest not, and hast no need of sleep, + For all thy cares and fears have dropped away; + The night's fatigue, the fever-fret of day, + Are far below thee; and earth's weary wars, + In vain expense of passion, pass + Before thy sight like visions in a glass,-- + Or like the wrinkles of the storm that creep + Across the sea and leave no trace + Of trouble on that immemorial face,-- + So brief appear the conflicts, and so slight + The wounds men give, the things for which they fight! + Here hangs a fortress on the distant steep,-- + A lichen clinging to the rock. + There sails a fleet upon the deep,-- + A wandering flock + Of snow-winged gulls. And yonder, in the plain, + A marble palace shines,--a grain + Of mica glittering in the rain. + Beneath thy feet the clouds are rolled + By voiceless winds: and far between + The rolling clouds, new shores and peaks are seen, + In shimmering robes of green and gold, + And faint aerial hue + That silent fades into the silent blue. + Thou, from thy mountain-hold, + All day in tranquil wisdom looking down + On distant scenes of human toil and strife, + All night, with eyes aware of loftier life + Uplifted to the sky where stars are sown, + Dost watch the everlasting fields grow white + Unto the harvest of the sons of light, + And welcome to thy dwelling-place sublime + The few strong souls that dare to climb + The slippery crags, and find thee on the height. + + +II + +DE PROFUNDIS + + But in the depth thou hast another home, + For hearts less daring, or more frail. + Thou dwellest also in the shadowy vale; + And pilgrim-souls that roam + With weary feet o'er hill and dale, + Bearing the burden and the heat + Of toilful days, + Turn from the dusty ways + To find thee in thy green and still retreat. + Here is no vision wide outspread + Before the lonely and exalted seat + Of all-embracing knowledge. Here, instead, + A little cottage, and a garden-nook, + With outlooks brief and sweet + Across the meadows, and along the brook,-- + A little stream that nothing knows + Of the great sea to which it gladly flows,-- + A little field that bears a little wheat + To make a portion of earth's daily bread. + The vast cloud-armies overhead + Are marshalled, and the wild wind blows + Its trumpet, but thou canst not tell + Whence comes the wind nor where it goes; + Nor dost thou greatly care, since all is well. + Thy daily task is done, + And now the wages of repose are won. + Here friendship lights the fire, and every heart, + Sure of itself and sure of all the rest, + Dares to be true, and gladly takes its part + In open converse, bringing forth its best: + And here is music, melting every chain + Of lassitude and pain: + And here, at last, is sleep with silent gifts,-- + Kind sleep, the tender nurse who lifts + The soul grown weary of the waking world, + And lays it, with its thoughts all furled, + Its fears forgotten, and its passions still, + On the deep bosom of the Eternal Will. + + + +THREE PRAYERS FOR SLEEP AND WAKING + + +I + +BEDTIME + + Ere thou sleepest gently lay + Every troubled thought away: + Put off worry and distress + As thou puttest off thy dress: + Drop thy burden and thy care + In the quiet arms of prayer. + + _Lord, Thou knowest how I live, + All I've done amiss forgive: + All of good I've tried to do, + Strengthen, bless, and carry through, + All I love in safety keep, + While in Thee I fall asleep._ + + +II + +NIGHT WATCH + + If slumber should forsake + Thy pillow in the dark, + Fret not thyself to mark + How long thou liest awake. + There is a better way; + Let go the strife and strain, + Thine eyes will close again, + If thou wilt only pray. + + _Lord, Thy peaceful gift restore, + Give my body sleep once more: + While I wait my soul will rest + Like a child upon Thy breast._ + + +III + +NEW DAY + + Ere thou risest from thy bed, + Speak to God Whose wings were spread + O'er thee in the helpless night: + Lo, He wakes thee now with light! + Lift thy burden and thy care + In the mighty arms of prayer. + + _Lord, the newness of this day + Calls me to an untried way: + Let me gladly take the road, + Give me strength to bear my load, + Thou my guide and helper be-- + I will travel through with Thee._ + +The Mission Inn, California, Easter, 1913. + + + +PORTRAIT AND REALITY + + + If on the closed curtain of my sight + My fancy paints thy portrait far away, + I see thee still the same, by night or day; + Crossing the crowded street, or moving bright + 'Mid festal throngs, or reading by the light + Of shaded lamp some friendly poet's lay, + Or shepherding the children at their play,-- + The same sweet self, and my unchanged delight. + + But when I see thee near, I recognize + In every dear familiar way some strange + Perfection, and behold in April guise + The magic of thy beauty that doth range + Through many moods with infinite surprise,-- + Never the same, and sweeter with each change. + + + +THE WIND OF SORROW + + + The fire of love was burning, yet so low + That in the peaceful dark it made no rays, + And in the light of perfect-placid days + The ashes hid the smouldering embers' glow. + Vainly, for love's delight, we sought to throw + New pleasures on the pyre to make it blaze: + In life's calm air and tranquil-prosperous ways + We missed the radiant heat of long ago. + + Then in the night, a night of sad alarms, + Bitter with pain and black with fog of fears + That drove us trembling to each other's arms, + Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears + Into life's calm the wind of sorrow came, + And fanned the fire of love to clearest name. + + + +HIDE AND SEEK + + +I + + All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, + All the fleecy flocks of cloud, gone beyond the hill; + Through the noon-day silence, down the woods of June, + Hark, a little hunter's voice, running with a tune. + "Hide and seek! + When I speak, + You must answer me: + Call again, + Merry men, + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!" + + Now I hear his footsteps rustling in the grass: + Hidden in my leafy nook, shall I let him pass? + Just a low, soft whistle,--quick the hunter turns, + Leaps upon me laughing loud, rolls me in the ferns. + "Hold him fast, + Caught at last! + Now you're it, you see. + Hide your eye, + Till I cry, + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!" + + +II + + Long ago he left me, long and long ago; + Now I wander thro' the world, seeking high and low. + Hidden safe and happy, in some pleasant place,-- + If I could but hear his voice, soon I'd see his face! + Far away, + Many a day, + Where can Barney be? + Answer, dear, + Don't you hear? + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee! + + Birds that every spring-time sung him full of joy, + Flowers he loved to pick for me, mind me of my boy. + Somewhere he is waiting till my steps come nigh; + Love may hide itself awhile, but love can never die. + Heart, be glad, + The little lad + Will call again to thee: + "Father dear, + Heaven is here, + Coo-ee, coo-ee, coo-ee!" + +1898. + + + +AUTUMN IN THE GARDEN + + + When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark + Makes its mark + On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves + Over fallen leaves; + Then my olden garden, where the golden soil + Through the toil + Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep, + Whispers in its sleep. + + 'Mid the crumpled beds of marigold and phlox, + Where the box + Borders with its glossy green the ancient walks, + There's a voice that talks + Of the human hopes that bloomed and withered here + Year by year,-- + And the dreams that brightened all the labouring hours. + Fading as the flowers. + + Yet the whispered story does not deepen grief; + But relief + For the loneliness of sorrow seems to flow + From the Long-Ago, + When I think of other lives that learned, like mine, + To resign, + And remember that the sadness of the fall + Comes alike to all. + + What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs I + And what prayers + For the silent strength that nerves us to endure + Things we cannot cure! + Pacing up and down the garden where they paced, + I have traced + All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find + Comfort in my mind. + + Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear: + Yet how near + Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face, + Of the human race! + Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,-- + Not apart! + They who know the sorrows other lives have known + Never walk alone. + +October, 1903. + + + +THE MESSAGE + + + Waking from tender sleep, + My neighbour's little child + Put out his baby hand to me, + Looked in my face, and smiled. + + It seems as if he came + Home from a happy land, + To bring a message to my heart + And make me understand. + + Somewhere, among bright dreams, + A child that once was mine + Has whispered wordless love to him, + And given him a sign. + + Comfort of kindly speech, + And counsel of the wise, + Have helped me less than what I read + In those deep-smiling eyes. + + Sleep sweetly, little friend, + And dream again of heaven: + With double love I kiss your hand,-- + Your message has been given. + +November, 1903. + + + +DULCIS MEMORIA + + + Long, long ago I heard a little song, + (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) + So lowly, slowly wound the tune along, + That far into my heart it found the way: + A melody consoling and endearing; + And now, in silent hours, I'm often hearing + The small, sweet song that does not die away. + + Long, long ago I saw a little flower-- + (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) + So fair of face and fragrant for an hour, + That something dear to me it seemed to say,-- + A wordless joy that blossomed into being; + And now, in winter days, I'm often seeing + The friendly flower that does not fade away. + + Long, long ago we had a little child,-- + (Ah, was it long ago, or yesterday?) + Into his mother's eyes and mine he smiled + Unconscious love; warm in our arms he lay. + An angel called! Dear heart, we could not hold him; + Yet secretly your arms and mine infold him-- + Our little child who does not go away. + + Long, long ago? Ah, memory, make it clear-- + (It was not long ago, but yesterday.) + So little and so helpless and so dear-- + Let not the song be lost, the flower decay! + His voice, his waking eyes, his gentle sleeping: + The smallest things are safest in thy keeping,-- + Sweet memory, keep our child with us alway. + +November, 1903. + + + +THE WINDOW + + + All night long, by a distant bell + The passing hours were notched + On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell; + And the spark of life I watched + In her face was glowing, or fading,--who could tell?-- + And the open window of the room, + With a flare of yellow light, + Was peering out into the gloom, + Like an eye that searched the night. + + _Oh, what do you see in the dark, little window, and why do you peer? + "I see that the garden is crowded with creeping forms of fear: + Little white ghosts in the locust-tree, wave in the night-wind's breath, + And low in the leafy laurels the lurking shadow of death."_ + + Sweet, clear notes of a waking bird + Told of the passing away + Of the dark,--and my darling may have heard; + For she smiled in her sleep, while the ray + Of the rising dawn spoke joy without a word, + Till the splendour born in the east outburned + The yellow lamplight, pale and thin, + And the open window slowly turned + To the eye of the morning, looking in. + + _Oh, what do you see in the room, little window, that makes you so + bright? + "I see that a child is asleep on her pillow, soft and white: + With the rose of life on her lips, the pulse of life in her breast, + And the arms of God around her, she quietly takes her rest."_ + +Neuilly, June, 1909. + + + +CHRISTMAS TEARS + + + The day returns by which we date our years: + Day of the joy of giving,--that means love; + Day of the joy of living,--that means hope; + Day of the Royal Child,--and day that brings + To older hearts the gift of Christmas tears! + + Look, how the candles twinkle through the tree, + The children shout when baby claps his hands, + The room is full of laughter and of song! + Your lips are smiling, dearest,--tell me why + Your eyes are brimming full of Christmas tears? + + Was it a silent voice that joined the song? + A vanished face that glimmered once again + Among the happy circle round the tree? + Was it an unseen hand that touched your cheek + And brought the secret gift of Christmas tears? + + Not dark and angry like the winter storm + Of selfish grief,--but full of starry gleams, + And soft and still that others may not weep,-- + Dews of remembered happiness descend + To bless us with the gift of Christmas tears. + + Ah, lose them not, dear heart,--life has no pearls + More pure than memories of joy love-shared. + See, while we count them one by one with prayer, + The Heavenly hope that lights the Christmas tree + Has made a rainbow in our Christmas tears! + +1912. + + + +DOROTHEA + +1888-1912 + + + A deeper crimson in the rose, + A deeper blue in sky and sea, + And ever, as the summer goes, + A deeper loss in losing thee! + + A deeper music in the strain + Of hermit-thrush from lonely tree; + And deeper grows the sense of gain + My life has found in having thee. + + A deeper love, a deeper rest, + A deeper joy in all I see; + And ever deeper in my breast + A silver song that comes from thee! + +Seal Harbour, August 1, 1912. + + + + +EPIGRAMS, GREETINGS, AND INSCRIPTIONS + + + +FOR KATRINA'S SUN-DIAL + +IN HER GARDEN OF YADDO + + + Hours fly, + Flowers die + New days, + New ways, + Pass by. + Love stays. + + * * * + + Time is + Too Slow for those who Wait, + Too Swift for those who Fear, + Too Long for those who Grieve, + Too Short for those who Rejoice; + But for those who Love, + Time is not. + + + +FOR KATRINA'S WINDOW + +IN HER TOWER OF YADDO + + + This is the window's message, + In silence, to the Queen: + "Thou hast a double kingdom + And I am set between: + Look out and see the glory, + On hill and plain and sky: + Look in and see the light of love + That nevermore shall die!" + + +_L'ENVOI_ + + _Window in the Queen's high tower, + This shall be thy magic power! + Shut the darkness and the doubt, + Shut the storm and conflict, out; + Wind and hail and snow and rain + Dash against thee all in vain. + Let in nothing from the night,-- + Let in every ray of light!_ + + + +FOR THE FRIENDS AT HURSTMONT + + +THE HOUSE + + The cornerstone in Truth is laid, + The guardian walls of Honour made, + The roof of Faith is built above, + The fire upon the hearth is Love: + Though rains descend and loud winds call, + This happy house shall never fall. + + +THE HEARTH + + When the logs are burning free, + Then the fire is full of glee: + When each heart gives out its best, + Then the talk is full of zest: + Light your fire and never fear, + Life was made for love and cheer. + + +THE DOOR + + The lintel low enough to keep out pomp and pride: + The threshold high enough to turn deceit aside: + The fastening strong enough from robbers to defend: + This door will open at a touch to welcome every friend. + + +THE DIAL + + Time can never take + What Time did not give; + When my shadows have all passed, + You shall live. + + + +THE SUN-DIAL AT MORVEN + +FOR BAYARD AND HELEN STOCKTON + + + Two hundred years of blessing I record + For Morven's house, protected by the Lord: + And still I stand among old-fashioned flowers + To mark for Morven many sunlit hours. + + + +THE SUN-DIAL AT WELLS COLLEGE + +FOR THE CLASS OF 1904 + + + The shadow by my finger cast + Divides the future from the past: + Before it, sleeps the unborn hour, + In darkness, and beyond thy power: + Behind its unreturning line, + The vanished hour, no longer thine: + One hour alone is in thy hands,-- + The NOW on which the shadow stands. + +March, 1904. + + + +TO MARK TWAIN + + +I + +AT A BIRTHDAY FEAST + + With memories old and wishes new + We crown our cups again, + And here's to you, and here's to you + With love that ne'er shall wane! + And may you keep, at sixty-seven, + The joy of earth, the hope of heaven, + And fame well-earned, and friendship true, + And peace that comforts every pain, + And faith that fights the battle through, + And all your heart's unbounded wealth, + And all your wit, and all your health,-- + Yes, here's a hearty health to you, + And here's to you, and here's to you, + Long life to you, Mark Twain. + +November 30, 1902. + + +II + +AT THE MEMORIAL MEETING + + We knew you well, dear Yorick of the West, + The very soul of large and friendly jest! + You loved and mocked the broad grotesque of things + In this new world where all the folk are kings. + + Your breezy humour cleared the air, with sport + Of shams that haunt the democratic court; + For even where the sovereign people rule, + A human monarch needs a royal fool. + + Your native drawl lent flavour to your wit; + Your arrows lingered but they always hit; + Homeric mirth around the circle ran, + But left no wound upon the heart of man. + + We knew you kind in trouble, brave in pain; + We saw your honour kept without a stain; + We read this lesson of our Yorick's years,-- + True wisdom comes with laughter and with tears. + +November 30, 1910. + + + +STARS AND THE SOUL + +(TO CHARLES A. YOUNG, ASTRONOMER) + + + "Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe: + The starry heavens and the moral law." + Nay, add another wonder to thy roll,-- + The living marvel of the human soul! + + Born in the dust and cradled in the dark, + It feels the fire of an immortal spark, + And learns to read, with patient, searching eyes, + The splendid secret of the unconscious skies. + + For God thought Light before He spoke the word; + The darkness understood not, though it heard: + But man looks up to where the planets swim, + And thinks God's thoughts of glory after Him. + + What knows the star that guides the sailor's way, + Or lights the lover's bower with liquid ray, + Of toil and passion, danger and distress, + Brave hope, true love, and utter faithfulness? + + But human hearts that suffer good and ill, + And hold to virtue with a loyal will, + Adorn the law that rules our mortal strife + With star-surpassing victories of life. + + So take our thanks, dear reader of the skies, + Devout astronomer, most humbly wise, + For lessons brighter than the stars can give, + And inward light that helps us all to live. + + + +TO JULIA MARLOWE + +(READING KEATS' ODE ON A GRECIAN URN) + + + Long had I loved this "Attic shape," the brede + Of marble maidens round this urn divine: + But when your golden voice began to read, + The empty urn was filled with Chian wine. + + + +TO JOSEPH JEFFERSON + + +_May 4th_, 1898.--_To-day, fishing down the Swiftwater, I +found Joseph Jefferson on a big rock in the middle of the brook, +casting the fly for trout. He said he had fished this very stream +three-and-forty years ago; and near by, in the Paradise Valley, +he wrote his famous play._--Leaf from my Diary. + + We met on Nature's stage, + And May had set the scene, + With bishop-caps standing in delicate ranks, + And violets blossoming over the banks, + While the brook ran full between. + + The waters rang your call, + With frolicsome waves a-twinkle,-- + They knew you as boy, and they knew you as man, + And every wave, as it merrily ran, + Cried, "Enter Rip van Winkle!" + + + +THE MOCKING-BIRD + + + In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, + Catching the lilt of every easy tune; + But when the day departs he sings of love,-- + His own wild song beneath the listening moon. + + + +THE EMPTY QUATRAIN + + + A flawless cup: how delicate and fine + The flowing curve of every jewelled line! + Look, turn it up or down, 'tis perfect still,-- + But holds no drop of life's heart-warming wine. + + + +PAN LEARNS MUSIC + +FOR A SCULPTURE BY SARA GREENE + + + Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock, + Where is sweet Echo, and where is your flock? + What are you making here? "Listen," said Pan,-- + "Out of a river-reed music for man!" + + + +THE SHEPHERD OF NYMPHS + + + The nymphs a shepherd took + To guard their snowy sheep; + He led them down along the brook, + And guided them with pipe and crook, + Until he fell asleep. + + But when the piping stayed, + Across the flowery mead + The milk-white nymphs ran out afraid: + O Thyrsis, wake! Your flock has strayed,-- + The nymphs a shepherd need. + + + +ECHOES FROM THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY + + +I + +STARLIGHT + + With two bright eyes, my star, my love, + Thou lookest on the stars above: + Ah, would that I the heaven might be + With a million eyes to look on thee. + +_Plato._ + + +II + +ROSELEAF + + A little while the rose, + And after that the thorn; + An hour of dewy morn, + And then the glamour goes. + Ah, love in beauty born, + A little while the rose! + +_Unknown._ + + +III + +PHOSPHOR--HESPER + + O morning star, farewell! + My love I now must leave; + The hours of day I slowly tell, + And turn to her with the twilight bell,-- + O welcome, star of eve! + +_Meleager._ + + +IV + +SEASONS + + Sweet in summer, cups of snow, + Cooling thirsty lips aglow; + Sweet to sailors winter-bound, + Spring arrives with garlands crowned; + Sweeter yet the hour that covers + With one cloak a pair of lovers, + Living lost in golden weather, + While they talk of love together. + +_Asclepiades._ + + +V + +THE VINE AND THE GOAT + + Although you eat me to the root, + I yet shall bear enough of fruit + For wine to sprinkle your dim eyes, + When you are made a sacrifice. + +_Euenus._ + + +VI + +THE PROFESSOR + + Seven pupils, in the class + Of Professor Callias, + Listen silent while he drawls,-- + Three are benches, four are walls. + +_Unknown._ + + + +ONE WORLD + + _"The worlds in which we live are two: + The world 'I am' and the world 'I do,'"_ + + + The worlds in which we live at heart are one, + The world "I am," the fruit of "I have done"; + And underneath these worlds of flower and fruit, + The world "I love,"--the only living root. + + + +JOY AND DUTY + + + "Joy is a Duty,"--so with golden lore + The Hebrew rabbis taught in days of yore, + And happy human hearts heard in their speech + Almost the highest wisdom man can reach. + + But one bright peak still rises far above, + And there the Master stands whose name is Love, + Saying to those whom weary tasks employ: + "Life is divine when Duty is a Joy." + + + +THE PRISON AND THE ANGEL + + + Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul; + Love is the only angel who can bid the gates unroll; + And when he comes to call thee, arise and follow fast; + His way may lie through darkness, but it leads to light at last. + + + +THE WAY + + + Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, + May keep the path, but will not reach the goal; + While he who walks in love may wander far, + But God will bring him where the Blessed are. + + + +LOVE AND LIGHT + + + There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light, + And every kind of love makes a glory in the night. + There is love that stirs the heart, and love that gives it rest, + But the love that leads life upward is the noblest and the best. + + + +_FACTA NON VERBA_ + + + _Deeds not Words_: I say so too! + And yet I find it somehow true, + A word may help a man in need, + To nobler act and braver deed. + + + +FOUR THINGS + + + Four things a man must learn to do + If he would make his record true: + To think without confusion clearly; + To love his fellow-men sincerely; + To act from honest motives purely; + To trust in God and Heaven securely. + + + +THE GREAT RIVER + + _"In la sua volontade e nostra pace."_ + + + O mighty river! strong, eternal Will, + Wherein the streams of human good and ill + Are onward swept, conflicting, to the sea! + The world is safe because it floats in Thee. + + + +INSCRIPTION FOR A TOMB IN ENGLAND + + + Read here, O friend unknown, + Our grief, of her bereft; + Yet think not tears alone + Within our hearts are left. + The gifts she came to give, + Her heavenly love and cheer, + Have made us glad to live + And die without a fear. + +1912. + + + +THE TALISMAN + + + What is Fortune, what is Fame? + Futile gold and phantom name,-- + Riches buried in a cave, + Glory written on a grave. + + What is Friendship? Something deep + That the heart can spend and keep: + Wealth that greatens while we give, + Praise that heartens us to live. + + Come, my friend, and let us prove + Life's true talisman is love! + By this charm we shall elude + Poverty and solitude. + +January 21, 1914. + + + +THORN AND ROSE + + + Far richer than a thornless rose + Whose branch with beauty never glows, + Is that which every June adorns + With perfect bloom among its thorns. + + Merely to live without a pain + Is little gladness, little gain, + Ah, welcome joy tho' mixt with grief,-- + The thorn-set flower that crowns the leaf. + +June 20, 1914. + + + +"THE SIGNS" + +_Dedicated to the Zodiac Club_ + + + Who knows how many thousand years ago + The twelvefold Zodiac was made to show + The course of stars above and men below? + + The great sun plows his furrow by its "lines": + From all its "houses" mystic meaning shines: + Deep lore of life is written in its "signs." + + _Aries_--Sacrifice. + Snow-white and sacred is the sacrifice + That Heaven demands for what our heart doth prize: + The man who fears to suffer, ne'er can rise. + + _Taurus_--Strength. + Rejoice, my friend, if God has made you strong: + Put forth your force to move the world along: + Yet never shame your strength to do a wrong. + + _Gemini_--Brotherhood. + Bitter his life who lives for self alone, + Poor would he be with riches and a throne: + But friendship doubles all we are and own. + + _Cancer_--The Wisdom of Retreat. + Learn from the crab, O runner fresh and fleet, + Sideways to move, or backward, when discreet; + Life is not all advance,--sometimes retreat! + + _Leo_--Fire. + The sign of Leo is the sign of fire. + Hatred we hate: but no man should desire + A heart too cold to flame with righteous ire. + + _Virgo_--Love. + Mysterious symbol, words are all in vain + To tell the secret power by which you reign. + The more we love, the less we can explain. + + _Libra_--Justice. + Examine well the scales with which you weigh; + Let justice rule your conduct every day; + For when you face the Judge you'll need fair play. + + _Scorpio_--Self-Defense. + There's not a creature in the realm of night + But has the wish to live, likewise the right: + Don't tread upon the scorpion, or he'll fight. + + _Sagittarius_--The Archer. + Life is an arrow, therefore you must know + What mark to aim at, how to use the bow,-- + Then draw it to the head and let it go! + + _Capricornus_--The Goat. + The goat looks solemn, yet he likes to run, + And leap the rocks, and gambol in the sun: + The truly wise enjoy a little fun. + + _Aquarius_--Water. + "Like water spilt upon the ground,"--alas, + Our little lives flow swiftly on and pass; + Yet may they bring rich harvests and green grass! + + _Pisces_--The Fishes. + Last of the sacred signs, you bring to me + A word of hope, a word of mystery,-- + _We all are swimmers in God's mighty sea._ + +February 28, 1918. + + + + +PRO PATRIA + + + +PATRIA + + + I would not even ask my heart to say + If I could love another land as well + As thee, my country, had I felt the spell + Of Italy at birth, or learned to obey + The charm of France, or England's mighty sway. + I would not be so much an infidel + As once to dream, or fashion words to tell, + What land could hold my heart from thee away. + + For like a law of nature in my blood, + America, I feel thy sovereignty, + And woven through my soul thy vital sign. + My life is but a wave and thou the flood; + I am a leaf and thou the mother-tree; + Nor should I be at all, were I not thine. + +June, 1904. + + + +AMERICA + + + I love thine inland seas, + Thy groves of giant trees, + Thy rolling plains; + Thy rivers' mighty sweep, + Thy mystic canyons deep, + Thy mountains wild and steep, + All thy domains; + + Thy silver Eastern strands, + Thy Golden Gate that stands + Wide to the West; + Thy flowery Southland fair, + Thy sweet and crystal air,-- + O land beyond compare, + Thee I love best! + +March, 1906. + + + +THE ANCESTRAL DWELLINGS + + + Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America, + Dearer than if they were haunted by ghosts of royal splendour; + They are simple enough to be great in their friendly dignity,-- + Homes that were built by the brave beginners of a nation. + + I love the old white farmhouses nestled in New England valleys, + Ample and long and low, with elm-trees feathering over them: + Borders of box in the yard, and lilacs, and old-fashioned roses, + A fan-light above the door, and little square panes in the windows, + The wood-shed piled with maple and birch and hickory ready for winter, + The gambrel-roof with its garret crowded with household relics,-- + All the tokens of prudent thrift and the spirit of self-reliance. + + I love the weather-beaten, shingled houses that front the ocean; + They seem to grow out of the rocks, there is something indomitable + about them: + Their backs are bowed, and their sides are covered with lichens; + Soft in their colour as gray pearls, they are full of a patient courage. + Facing the briny wind on a lonely shore they stand undaunted, + While the thin blue pennant of smoke from the square-built chimney + Tells of a haven for man, with room for a hearth and a cradle. + + I love the stately southern mansions with their tall white columns, + They look through avenues of trees, over fields where the cotton is + growing; + I can see the flutter of white frocks along their shady porches, + Music and laughter float from the windows, the yards are full of + hounds and horses. + Long since the riders have ridden away, yet the houses have not + forgotten, + They are proud of their name and place, and their doors are always open, + For the thing they remember best is the pride of their ancient + hospitality. + + In the towns I love the discreet and tranquil Quaker dwellings, + With their demure brick faces and immaculate marble doorsteps; + And the gabled houses of the Dutch, with their high stoops and iron + railings, + (I can see their little brass knobs shining in the morning sunlight); + And the solid self-contained houses of the descendants of the Puritans, + Frowning on the street with their narrow doors and dormer-windows; + And the triple-galleried, many-pillared mansions of Charleston, + Standing open sideways in their gardens of roses and magnolias. + + Yes, they are all dear to my heart, and in my eyes they are beautiful; + For under their roofs were nourished the thoughts that have made the + nation; + The glory and strength of America come from her ancestral dwellings. + +July, 1909. + + + +HUDSON'S LAST VOYAGE + +THE SHALLOP ON HUDSON BAY + +June 22, 1611 + + + One sail in sight upon the lonely sea, + And only one! For never ship but mine + Has dared these waters. We were first, + My men, to battle in between the bergs + And floes to these wide waves. This gulf is mine; + I name it! and that flying sail is mine! + And there, hull-down below that flying sail, + The ship that staggers home is mine, mine, mine! + My ship _Discoverie_! + The sullen dogs + Of mutineers, the bitches' whelps that snatched + Their food and bit the hand that nourished them, + Have stolen her. You ingrate Henry Greene, + I picked you from the gutter of Houndsditch, + And paid your debts, and kept you in my house, + And brought you here to make a man of you! + You Robert Juet, ancient, crafty man, + Toothless and tremulous, how many times + Have I employed you as a master's mate + To give you bread? And you Abacuck Prickett, + You sailor-clerk, you salted puritan, + You knew the plot and silently agreed, + Salving your conscience with a pious lie! + Yes, all of you--hounds, rebels, thieves! Bring back + My ship! + Too late,--I rave,--they cannot hear + My voice: and if they heard, a drunken laugh + Would be their answer; for their minds have caught + The fatal firmness of the fool's resolve, + That looks like courage but is only fear. + They'll blunder on, and lose my ship, and drown; + Or blunder home to England and be hanged. + Their skeletons will rattle in the chains + Of some tall gibbet on the Channel cliffs, + While passing mariners look up and say: + "Those are the rotten bones of Hudson's men + Who left their captain in the frozen North!" + + O God of justice, why hast Thou ordained + Plans of the wise and actions of the brave + Dependent on the aid of fools and cowards? + + Look,--there she goes,--her topsails in the sun + Gleam from the ragged ocean edge, and drop + Clean out of sight! So let the traitors go + Clean out of mind! We'll think of braver things! + Come closer in the boat, my friends. John King, + You take the tiller, keep her head nor'west. + You Philip Staffe, the only one who chose + Freely to share our little shallop's fate, + Rather than travel in the hell-bound ship,-- + Too good an English sailor to desert + Your crippled comrades,--try to make them rest + More easy on the thwarts. And John, my son, + My little shipmate, come and lean your head + Against my knee. Do you remember still + The April morn in Ethelburga's church, + Five years ago, when side by side we kneeled + To take the sacrament with all our men, + Before the _Hopewell_ left St. Catherine's docks + On our first voyage? It was then I vowed + My sailor-soul and yours to search the sea + Until we found the water-path that leads + From Europe into Asia. + I believe + That God has poured the ocean round His world, + Not to divide, but to unite the lands. + And all the English captains that have dared + In little ships to plough uncharted waves,-- + Davis and Drake, Hawkins and Frobisher, + Raleigh and Gilbert,--all the other names,-- + Are written in the chivalry of God + As men who served His purpose. I would claim + A place among that knighthood of the sea; + And I have earned it, though my quest should fail! + For, mark me well, the honour of our life + Derives from this: to have a certain aim + Before us always, which our will must seek + Amid the peril of uncertain ways. + Then, though we miss the goal, our search is crowned + With courage, and we find along our path + A rich reward of unexpected things. + Press towards the aim: take fortune as it fares! + + I know not why, but something in my heart + Has always whispered, "Westward seek your goal!" + Three times they sent me east, but still I turned + The bowsprit west, and felt among the floes + Of ruttling ice along the Greenland coast, + And down the rugged shore of Newfoundland, + And past the rocky capes and wooded bays + Where Gosnold sailed,--like one who feels his way + With outstretched hand across a darkened room,-- + I groped among the inlets and the isles, + To find the passage to the Land of Spice. + I have not found it yet,--but I have found + Things worth the finding! + Son, have you forgot + Those mellow autumn days, two years ago, + When first we sent our little ship _Half-Moon_,-- + The flag of Holland floating at her peak,-- + Across a sandy bar, and sounded in + Among the channels, to a goodly bay + Where all the navies of the world could ride? + A fertile island that the redmen called + Manhattan, lay above the bay: the land + Around was bountiful and friendly fair. + But never land was fair enough to hold + The seaman from the calling of the sea. + And so we bore to westward of the isle, + Along a mighty inlet, where the tide + Was troubled by a downward-flowing flood + That seemed to come from far away,--perhaps + From some mysterious gulf of Tartary? + Inland we held our course; by palisades + Of naked rock; by rolling hills adorned + With forests rich in timber for great ships; + Through narrows where the mountains shut us in + With frowning cliffs that seemed to bar the stream; + And then through open reaches where the banks + Sloped to the water gently, with their fields + Of corn and lentils smiling in the sun. + Ten days we voyaged through that placid land, + Until we came to shoals, and sent a boat + Upstream to find,--what I already knew,-- + We travelled on a river, not a strait. + + But what a river! God has never poured + A stream more royal through a land more rich. + Even now I see it flowing in my dream, + While coming ages people it with men + Of manhood equal to the river's pride. + I see the wigwams of the redmen changed + To ample houses, and the tiny plots + Of maize and green tobacco broadened out + To prosperous farms, that spread o'er hill and dale + The many-coloured mantle of their crops. + I see the terraced vineyard on the slope + Where now the fox-grape loops its tangled vine, + And cattle feeding where the red deer roam, + And wild-bees gathered into busy hives + To store the silver comb with golden sweet; + And all the promised land begins to flow + With milk and honey. Stately manors rise + Along the banks, and castles top the hills, + And little villages grow populous with trade, + Until the river runs as proudly as the Rhine,-- + The thread that links a hundred towns and towers! + Now looking deeper in my dream, I see + A mighty city covering the isle + They call Manhattan, equal in her state + To all the older capitals of earth,-- + The gateway city of a golden world,-- + A city girt with masts, and crowned with spires, + And swarming with a million busy men, + While to her open door across the bay + The ships of all the nations flock like doves. + My name will be remembered there, the world + Will say, "This river and this isle were found + By Henry Hudson, on his way to seek + The Northwest Passage." + Yes, I seek it still,-- + My great adventure and my guiding star! + For look ye, friends, our voyage is not done; + We hold by hope as long as life endures! + Somewhere among these floating fields of ice, + Somewhere along this westward widening bay, + Somewhere beneath this luminous northern night, + The channel opens to the Farthest East,-- + I know it,--and some day a little ship + Will push her bowsprit in, and battle through! + And why not ours,--to-morrow,--who can tell? + The lucky chance awaits the fearless heart! + These are the longest days of all the year; + The world is round and God is everywhere, + And while our shallop floats we still can steer. + + So point her up, John King, nor'west by north + We'll keep the honour of a certain aim + Amid the peril of uncertain ways, + And sail ahead, and leave the rest to God. + +July, 1909. + + + +SEA-GULLS OF MANHATTAN + + + Children of the elemental mother, + Born upon some lonely island shore + Where the wrinkled ripples run and whisper, + Where the crested billows plunge and roar; + Long-winged, tireless roamers and adventurers, + Fearless breasters of the wind and sea, + In the far-off solitary places + I have seen you floating wild and free! + + Here the high-built cities rise around you; + Here the cliffs that tower east and west, + Honeycombed with human habitations, + Have no hiding for the sea-bird's nest: + Here the river flows begrimed and troubled; + Here the hurrying, panting vessels fume, + Restless, up and down the watery highway, + While a thousand chimneys vomit gloom. + + Toil and tumult, conflict and confusion, + Clank and clamour of the vast machine + Human hands have built for human bondage-- + Yet amid it all you float serene; + Circling, soaring, sailing, swooping lightly + Down to glean your harvest from the wave; + In your heritage of air and water, + You have kept the freedom Nature gave. + + Even so the wild-woods of Manhattan + Saw your wheeling flocks of white and gray; + Even so you fluttered, followed, floated, + Round the _Half-Moon_ creeping up the bay; + Even so your voices creaked and chattered. + Laughing shrilly o'er the tidal rips, + While your black and beady eyes were glistening + Round the sullen British prison-ships. + + Children of the elemental mother, + Fearless floaters 'mid the double blue, + From the crowded boats that cross the ferries + Many a longing heart goes out to you. + Though the cities climb and close around us, + Something tells us that our souls are free, + While the sea-gulls fly above the harbour, + While the river flows to meet the sea! + +December, 1905. + + + +A BALLAD OF CLAREMONT HILL + + + The roar of the city is low, + Muffled by new-fallen snow, + And the sign of the wintry moon is small and round and still. + Will you come with me to-night, + To see a pleasant sight + Away on the river-side, at the edge of Claremont Hill? + + "And what shall we see there, + But streets that are new and bare, + And many a desolate place that the city is coming to fill; + And a soldier's tomb of stone, + And a few trees standing alone-- + Will you walk for that through the cold, to the edge of Claremont Hill?" + + But there's more than that for me, + In the place that I fain would see: + There's a glimpse of the grace that helps us all to bear life's ill, + A touch of the vital breath + That keeps the world from death, + A flower that never fades, on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + For just where the road swings round, + In a narrow strip of ground, + Where a group of forest trees are lingering fondly still, + There's a grave of the olden time, + When the garden bloomed in its prime, + And the children laughed and sang on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + The marble is pure and white, + And even in this dim light, + You may read the simple words that are written there if you will; + You may hear a father tell + Of the child he loved so well, + A hundred years ago, on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + The tide of the city has rolled + Across that bower of old, + And blotted out the beds of the rose and the daffodil; + But the little playmate sleeps, + And the shrine of love still keeps + A record of happy days, on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + The river is pouring down + To the crowded, careless town, + Where the intricate wheels of trade are grinding on like a mill; + But the clamorous noise and strife + Of the hurrying waves of life + Flow soft by this haven of peace on the edge of Claremont Hill. + + And after all, my friend, + When the tale of our years shall end, + Be it long or short, or lowly or great, as God may will, + What better praise could we hear, + Than this of the child so dear: + You have made my life more sweet, on the edge of Claremont Hill? + +December, 1896. + + + +URBS CORONATA + +(Song for the City College of New York) + + + O youngest of the giant brood + Of cities far-renowned; + In wealth and glory thou hast passed + Thy rivals at a bound; + Thou art a mighty queen, New York; + And how wilt thou be crowned? + + "Weave me no palace-wreath of Pride," + The royal city said; + "Nor forge of frowning fortress-walls + A helmet for my head; + But let me wear a diadem + Of Wisdom's towers instead." + + She bowed herself, she spent herself, + She wrought her will forsooth, + And set upon her island height + A citadel of Truth, + A house of Light, a home of Thought, + A shrine of noble Youth. + + Stand here, ye City College towers, + And look both up and down; + Remember all who wrought for you + Within the toiling town; + Remember all their hopes for you, + And _be_ the City's Crown. + +June, 1908. + + + +MERCY FOR ARMENIA + + +I + +THE TURK'S WAY + + Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand + Far off, for I will save my troubled folk + In my own way. So the false Sultan spoke; + And Europe, hearkening to his base command, + Stood still to see him heal his wounded land. + Through blinding snows of winter and through smoke + Of burning towns, she saw him deal the stroke + Of cruel mercy that his hate had planned. + Unto the prisoners and the sick he gave + New tortures, horrible, without a name; + Unto the thirsty, blood to drink; a sword + Unto the hungry; with a robe of shame + He clad the naked, making life abhorred; + He saved by slaughter, and denied a grave. + + +II + +AMERICA'S WAY + + But thou, my country, though no fault be thine + For that red horror far across the sea; + Though not a tortured wretch can point to thee, + And curse thee for the selfishness supine + Of those great Powers that cowardly combine + To shield the Turk in his iniquity; + Yet, since thy hand is innocent and free, + Arise, and show the world the way divine! + Thou canst not break the oppressor's iron rod, + But thou canst help and comfort the oppressed; + Thou canst not loose the captive's heavy chain, + But thou canst bind his wounds and soothe his pain. + Armenia calls thee, Sovereign of the West, + To play the Good Samaritan for God. + +1896. + + + +SICILY, DECEMBER, 1908 + + + O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea, + Whose bluest billows kiss thy curving bays, + Whose light infolds thy hills with golden rays, + Filling with fruit each dark-leaved orange-tree, + What hidden hatred hath the Earth for thee, + That once again, in these dark, dreadful days, + Breaks forth in trembling rage, and swiftly lays + Thy beauty waste in wreck and agony! + Is Nature, then, a strife of jealous powers, + And man the plaything of unconscious fate? + Not so, my troubled heart! God reigns above, + And man is greatest in his darkest hours. + Walking amid the cities desolate, + Behold the Son of God in human love! + +Tertius and Henry van Dyke. + + + +"COME BACK AGAIN, JEANNE D'ARC" + + + The land was broken in despair, + The princes quarrelled in the dark, + When clear and tranquil, through the troubled air + Of selfish minds and wills that did not dare, + Your star arose, Jeanne d'Arc. + + O virgin breast with lilies white, + O sun-burned hand that bore the lance, + You taught the prayer that helps men to unite, + You brought the courage equal to the fight, + You gave a heart to France! + + Your king was crowned, your country free, + At Rheims you had your soul's desire: + And then, at Rouen, maid of Domremy, + The black-robed judges gave your victory + The martyr's crown of fire. + + And now again the times are ill, + And doubtful leaders miss the mark; + The people lack the single faith and will + To make them one,--your country needs you still,-- + Come back again, Jeanne d'Arc! + + O woman-star, arise once more + And shine to bid your land advance: + The old heroic trust in God restore, + Renew the brave, unselfish hopes of yore, + And give a heart to France! + +Paris, July, 1909. + + + +NATIONAL MONUMENTS + + + Count not the cost of honour to the dead! + The tribute that a mighty nation pays + To those who loved her well in former days + Means more than gratitude for glories fled; + For every noble man that she hath bred, + Lives in the bronze and marble that we raise, + Immortalised by art's immortal praise, + To lead our sons as he our fathers led. + + These monuments of manhood strong and high + Do more than forts or battle-ships to keep + Our dear-bought liberty. They fortify + The heart of youth with valour wise and deep; + They build eternal bulwarks, and command + Immortal hosts to guard our native land. + +February, 1905. + + + +THE MONUMENT OF FRANCIS MAKEMIE + +(Presbyter of Christ in America, 1683-1708) + + + To thee, plain hero of a rugged race, + We bring the meed of praise too long delayed! + Thy fearless word and faithful work have made + For God's Republic firmer resting-place + In this New World: for thou hast preached the grace + And power of Christ in many a forest glade, + Teaching the truth that leaves men unafraid + Of frowning tyranny or death's dark face. + + Oh, who can tell how much we owe to thee, + Makemie, and to labour such as thine, + For all that makes America the shrine + Of faith untrammelled and of conscience free? + Stand here, gray stone, and consecrate the sod + Where rests this brave Scotch-Irish man of God! + +April, 1908. + + + +THE STATUE OF SHERMAN BY ST. GAUDENS + + + This is the soldier brave enough to tell + The glory-dazzled world that 'war is hell': + Lover of peace, he looks beyond the strife, + And rides through hell to save his country's life. + +April, 1904. + + + +"AMERICA FOR ME" + + + 'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down + Among the famous palaces and cities of renown, + To admire the crumbly castles and the statues of the kings,-- + But now I think I've had enough of antiquated things. + + _So it's home again, and home again, America for me! + My heart is turning home again, and there I long to be, + In the land of youth and freedom beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + + Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air; + And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair; + And it's sweet to dream in Venice, and it's great to study Rome; + But when it comes to living there is no place like home. + + I like the German fir-woods, in green battalions drilled; + I like the gardens of Versailles with flashing fountains filled; + But, oh, to take your hand, my dear, and ramble for a day + In the friendly western woodland where Nature has her way! + + I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack: + The Past is too much with her, and the people looking back. + But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free,-- + We love our land for what she is and what she is to be. + + _Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! + I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, + To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + +June, 1909. + + + +THE BUILDERS + +ODE FOR THE HUNDRED AND FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF PRINCETON COLLEGE + +October 21, 1896 + + +I + + Into the dust of the making of man + Spirit was breathed when his life began, + Lifting him up from his low estate, + With masterful passion, the wish to create. + Out of the dust of his making, man + Fashioned his works as the ages ran; + Fortress, and palace, and temple, and tower, + Filling the world with the proof of his power. + Over the dust that awaits him, man, + Building the walls that his pride doth plan, + Dreams they will stand in the light of the sun + Bearing his name till Time is done. + + +II + + The monuments of mortals + Are as the glory of the grass; + Through Time's dim portals + A voiceless, viewless wind doth pass, + The blossoms fall before it in a day, + The forest monarchs year by year decay, + And man's great buildings slowly fade away. + One after one, + They pay to that dumb breath + The tribute of their death, + And are undone. + The towers incline to dust, + The massive girders rust, + The domes dissolve in air, + The pillars that upbear + The lofty arches crumble, stone by stone, + While man the builder looks about him in despair, + For all his works of pride and power are overthrown. + + +III + + A Voice came from the sky: + "Set thy desires more high. + Thy buildings fade away + Because thou buildest clay. + Now make the fabric sure + With stones that will endure! + Hewn from the spiritual rock, + The immortal towers of the soul + At Death's dissolving touch shall mock, + And stand secure while aeons roll." + + +IV + + Well did the wise in heart rejoice + To hear the summons of that Voice, + And patiently begin + The builder's work within, + Houses not made with hands, + Nor founded on the sands. + And thou, Revered Mother, at whose call + We come to keep thy joyous festival, + And celebrate thy labours on the walls of Truth + Through sevenscore years and ten of thine eternal youth-- + A master builder thou, + And on thy shining brow, + Like Cybele, in fadeless light dost wear + A diadem of turrets strong and fair. + + +V + + I see thee standing in a lonely land, + But late and hardly won from solitude, + Unpopulous and rude,-- + On that far western shore I see thee stand, + Like some young goddess from a brighter strand, + While in thine eyes a radiant thought is born, + Enkindling all thy beauty like the morn. + Sea-like the forest rolled, in waves of green, + And few the lights that glimmered, leagues between. + High in the north, for fourscore years alone + Fair Harvard's earliest beacon-tower had shone + When Yale was lighted, and an answering ray + Flashed from the meadows by New Haven Bay. + But deeper spread the forest, and more dark, + Where first Neshaminy received the spark + Of sacred learning to a woodland camp, + And Old Log College glowed with Tennant's lamp. + Thine, Alma Mater, was the larger sight, + That saw the future of that trembling light, + And thine the courage, thine the stronger will, + That built its loftier home on Princeton Hill. + + "New light!" men cried, and murmured that it came + From an unsanctioned source with lawless flame; + It shone too free, for still the church and school + Must only shine according to their rule. + But Princeton answered, in her nobler mood, + "God made the light, and all the light is good. + There is no war between the old and new; + The conflict lies between the false and true. + The stars, that high in heaven their courses run, + In glory differ, but their light is one. + The beacons, gleaming o'er the sea of life, + Are rivals but in radiance, not in strife. + Shine on, ye sister-towers, across the night! + I too will build a lasting house of light." + + +VI + + Brave was that word of faith and bravely was it kept: + With never-wearying zeal that faltered not, nor slept, + Our Alma Mater toiled, and while she firmly laid + The deep foundation-walls, at all her toil she prayed. + And men who loved the truth because it made them free, + And clearly saw the twofold Word of God agree, + Reading from Nature's book and from the Bible's page + By the same inward ray that grows from age to age, + Were built like living stones that beacon to uplift, + And drawing light from heaven gave to the world the gift. + Nor ever, while they searched the secrets of the earth, + Or traced the stream of life through mystery to its birth, + Nor ever, while they taught the lightning-flash to bear + The messages of man in silence through the air, + Fell from their home of light one false, perfidious ray + To blind the trusting heart, or lead the life astray. + But still, while knowledge grew more luminous and broad + It lit the path of faith and showed the way to God. + + +VII + + Yet not for peace alone + Labour the builders. + Work that in peace has grown + Swiftly is overthrown, + When in the darkening skies + Storm-clouds of wrath arise, + And through the cannon's crash, + War's deadly lightning-flash + Smites and bewilders. + Ramparts of strength must frown + Round every placid town + And city splendid; + All that our fathers wrought + With true prophetic thought, + Must be defended! + + +VIII + + But who could raise protecting walls for thee, + Thou young, defenceless land of liberty? + Or who could build a fortress strong enough, + Or stretch a mighty bulwark long enough + To hold thy far-extended coast + Against the overweening host + That took the open path across the sea, + And like a tempest poured + Their desolating horde, + To quench thy dawning light in gloom of tyranny? + Yet not unguarded thou wert found + When on thy shore with sullen sound + The blaring trumpets of an unjust king + Proclaimed invasion. From the ground, + In freedom's darkest hour, there seemed to spring + Unconquerable walls for her defence; + Not trembling, like those battlements of stone + That fell when Joshua's horns were blown; + But firm and stark the living rampart rose, + To meet the onset of imperious foes + With a long line of brave, unyielding men. + This was thy fortress, well-defended land, + And on these walls, the patient, building hand + Of Princeton laboured with the force of ten. + Her sons were foremost in the furious fight; + Her sons were firmest to uphold the right + In council-chambers of the new-born State, + And prove that he who would be free must first be great + In heart, and high in thought, and strong + In purpose not to do or suffer wrong. + Such were the men, impregnable to fear, + Whose souls were framed and fashioned here; + And when war shook the land with threatening shock, + The men of Princeton stood like muniments of rock. + Nor has the breath of Time + Dissolved that proud array + Of never-broken strength: + For though the rocks decay, + And all the iron bands + Of earthly strongholds are unloosed at length, + And buried deep in gray oblivion's sands; + The work that heroes' hands + Wrought in the light of freedom's natal day + Shall never fade away, + But lifts itself, sublime + Into a lucid sphere, + For ever calm and clear, + Preserving in the memory of the fathers' deed, + A never-failing fortress for their children's need. + There we confirm our hearts to-day, and read + On many a stone the signature of fame, + The builder's mark, our Alma Mater's name. + + +IX + + Bear with us then a moment, while we turn + From all the present splendours of this place-- + The lofty towers that like a dream have grown + Where once old Nassau Hall stood all alone-- + Back to that ancient time, with hearts that burn + In filial gratitude, to trace + The glory of our mother's best degree, + In that "high son of Liberty," + Who like a granite block, + Riven from Scotland's rock, + Stood loyal here to keep Columbia free. + Born far away beyond the ocean's tide, + He found his fatherland upon this side; + And every drop of ardent blood that ran + Through his great heart, was true American. + He held no fealty to a distant throne, + But made his new-found country's cause his own. + In peril and distress, + In toil and weariness, + When darkness overcast her + With shadows of disaster, + And voices of confusion + Proclaimed her hope delusion, + Robed in his preacher's gown, + He dared the danger down; + Like some old prophet chanting an inspired rune + In freedom's councils rang the voice of Witherspoon. + + And thou, my country, write it on thy heart: + _Thy sons are they who nobly take thy part; + Who dedicates his manhood at thy shrine, + Wherever born, is born a son of thine. + Foreign in name, but not in soul, they come + To find in thee their long desired home; + Lovers of liberty and haters of disorder, + They shall be built in strength along thy border._ + + Dream not thy future foes + Will all be foreign-born! + Turn thy clear look of scorn + Upon thy children who oppose + Their passions wild and policies of shame + To wreck the righteous splendour of thy name. + Untaught and overconfident they rise, + With folly on their lips, and envy in their eyes: + Strong to destroy, but powerless to create, + And ignorant of all that made our fathers great, + Their hands would take away thy golden crown, + And shake the pillars of thy freedom down + In Anarchy's ocean, dark and desolate. + O should that storm descend, + What fortress shall defend + The land our fathers wrought for, + The liberties they fought for? + What bulwark shall secure + Her shrines of law, and keep her founts of justice pure? + Then, ah then, + As in the olden days, + The builders must upraise + A rampart of indomitable men. + And once again, + Dear Mother, if thy heart and hand be true, + There will be building work for thee to do; + Yea, more than once again, + Thou shalt win lasting praise, + And never-dying honour shall be thine, + For setting many stones in that illustrious line, + To stand unshaken in the swirling strife, + And guard their country's honour as her life. + + +X + + Softly, my harp, and let me lay the touch + Of silence on these rudely clanging strings; + For he who sings + Even of noble conflicts overmuch, + Loses the inward sense of better things; + And he who makes a boast + Of knowledge, darkens that which counts the most,-- + The insight of a wise humility + That reverently adores what none can see. + The glory of our life below + Comes not from what we do, or what we know, + But dwells forevermore in what we are. + There is an architecture grander far + Than all the fortresses of war, + More inextinguishably bright + Than learning's lonely towers of light. + Framing its walls of faith and hope and love + In souls of men, it lifts above + The frailty of our earthly home + An everlasting dome; + The sanctuary of the human host, + The living temple of the Holy Ghost. + + +XI + + If music led the builders long ago, + When Arthur planned the halls of Camelot, + And made the royal city grow, + Fair as a flower in that forsaken spot; + What sweeter music shall we bring, + To weave a harmony divine + Of prayer and holy thought + Into the labours of this loftier shrine, + This consecrated hill, + Where through so many a year + Our Alma Mater's hand hath wrought, + With toil serene and still, + And heavenly hope, to rear + Eternal dwellings for the Only King? + Here let no martial trumpets blow, + Nor instruments of pride proclaim + The loud exultant notes of fame! + But let the chords be clear and low, + And let the anthem deeper grow, + And let it move more solemnly and slow; + For only such an ode + Can seal the harmony + Of that deep masonry + Wherein the soul of man is framed for God's abode. + + +XII + + O Thou whose boundless love bestows + The joy of earth, the hope of Heaven, + And whose unchartered mercy flows + O'er all the blessings Thou hast given; + Thou by whose light alone we see; + And by whose truth our souls set free + Are made imperishably strong; + Hear Thou the solemn music of our song. + + Grant us the knowledge that we need + To solve the questions of the mind, + And light our candle while we read, + To keep our hearts from going blind; + Enlarge our vision to behold + The wonders Thou hast wrought of old; + Reveal thyself in every law, + And gild the towers of truth with holy awe. + + Be Thou our strength if war's wild gust + Shall rage around us, loud and fierce; + Confirm our souls and let our trust + Be like a shield that none can pierce; + Renew the courage that prevails, + The steady faith that never fails, + And make us stand in every fight + Firm as a fortress to defend the right. + + O God, control us as Thou wilt, + And guide the labour of our hand; + Let all our work be surely built + As Thou, the architect, hast planned; + But whatso'er thy power shall make + Of these frail lives, do not forsake + Thy dwelling: let thy presence rest + For ever in the temple of our breast. + + + +SPIRIT OF THE EVERLASTING BOY + +ODE FOR THE HUNDREDTH ANNIVERSARY OF LAWRENCEVILLE SCHOOL + +June 11, 1910 + + +I + + The British bard who looked on Eton's walls, + Endeared by distance in the pearly gray + And soft aerial blue that ever falls + On English landscape with the dying day, + Beheld in thought his boyhood far away, + Its random raptures and its festivals + Of noisy mirth, + The brief illusion of its idle joys, + And mourned that none of these can stay + With men, whom life inexorably calls + To face the grim realities of earth. + His pensive fancy pictured there at play + From year to year the careless bands of boys, + Unconscious victims kept in golden state, + While haply they await + The dark approach of disenchanting Fate, + To hale them to the sacrifice + Of Pain and Penury and Grief and Care, + Slow-withering Age, or Failure's swift despair. + Half-pity and half-envy dimmed the eyes + Of that old poet, gazing on the scene + Where long ago his youth had flowed serene, + And all the burden of his ode was this: + "Where ignorance is bliss, + 'Tis folly to be wise." + + +II + + But not for us, O plaintive elegist, + Thine epicedial tone of sad farewell + To joy in wisdom and to thought in youth! + Our western Muse would keep her tryst + With sunrise, not with sunset, and foretell + In boyhood's bliss the dawn of manhood's truth. + + +III + + O spirit of the everlasting boy, + Alert, elate, + And confident that life is good, + Thou knockest boldly at the gate, + In hopeful hardihood, + Eager to enter and enjoy + Thy new estate. + + Through the old house thou runnest everywhere, + Bringing a breath of folly and fresh air. + Ready to make a treasure of each toy, + Or break them all in discontented mood; + Fearless of Fate, + Yet strangely fearful of a comrade's laugh; + Reckless and timid, hard and sensitive; + In talk a rebel, full of mocking chaff, + At heart devout conservative; + In love with love, yet hating to be kissed; + Inveterate optimist, + And judge severe, + In reason cloudy but in feeling clear; + Keen critic, ardent hero-worshipper, + Impatient of restraint in little ways, + Yet ever ready to confer + On chosen leaders boundless power and praise; + Adventurous spirit burning to explore + Untrodden paths where hidden danger lies, + And homesick heart looking with wistful eyes + Through every twilight to a mother's door; + Thou daring, darling, inconsistent boy, + How dull the world would be + Without thy presence, dear barbarian, + And happy lord of high futurity! + Be what thou art, our trouble and our joy, + Our hardest problem and our brightest hope! + And while thine elders lead thee up the slope + Of knowledge, let them learn from teaching thee + That vital joy is part of nature's plan, + And he who keeps the spirit of the boy + Shall gladly grow to be a happy man. + + +IV + + What constitutes a school? + Not ancient halls and ivy-mantled towers, + Where dull traditions rule + With heavy hand youth's lightly springing powers; + Not spacious pleasure courts, + And lofty temples of athletic fame, + Where devotees of sports + Mistake a pastime for life's highest aim; + Not fashion, nor renown + Of wealthy patronage and rich estate; + No, none of these can crown + A school with light and make it truly great. + But masters, strong and wise, + Who teach because they love the teacher's task, + And find their richest prize + In eyes that open and in minds that ask; + And boys, with heart aglow + To try their youthful vigour on their work, + Eager to learn and grow, + And quick to hate a coward or a shirk: + These constitute a school,-- + A vital forge of weapons keen and bright, + Where living sword and tool + Are tempered for true toil or noble fight! + But let not wisdom scorn + The hours of pleasure in the playing fields: + There also strength is born, + And every manly game a virtue yields. + Fairness and self-control, + Good-humour, pluck, and patience in the race, + Will make a lad heart-whole + To win with honour, lose without disgrace. + Ah, well for him who gains + In such a school apprenticeship to life: + With him the joy of youth remains + In later lessons and in larger strife! + + +V + + On Jersey's rolling plain, where Washington, + In midnight marching at the head + Of ragged regiments, his army led + To Princeton's victory of the rising sun; + Here in this liberal land, by battle won + For Freedom and the rule + Of equal rights for every child of man, + Arose a democratic school, + To train a virile race of sons to bear + With thoughtful joy the name American, + And serve the God who heard their father's prayer. + No cloister, dreaming in a world remote + From that real world wherein alone we live; + No mimic court, where titled names denote + A dignity that only worth can give; + But here a friendly house of learning stood, + With open door beside the broad highway, + And welcomed lads to study and to play + In generous rivalry of brotherhood. + A hundred years have passed, and Lawrenceville, + In beauty and in strength renewed, + Stands with her open portal still, + And neither time nor fortune brings + To her deep spirit any change of mood, + Or faltering from the faith she held of old. + Still to the democratic creed she clings: + That manhood needs nor rank nor gold + To make it noble in our eyes; + That every boy is born with royal right, + From blissful ignorance to rise + To joy more lasting and more bright, + In mastery of body and of mind, + King of himself and servant of mankind. + + +VI + + Old Lawrenceville, + Thy happy bell + Shall ring to-day, + O'er vale and hill, + O'er mead and dell, + While far away, + With silent thrill, + The echoes roll + Through many a soul, + That knew thee well, + In boyhood's day, + And loves thee still. + + Ah, who can tell + How far away, + Some sentinel + Of God's good will, + In forest cool, + Or desert gray, + By lonely pool, + Or barren hill, + Shall faintly hear, + With inward ear, + The chiming bell, + Of his old school, + Through darkness pealing; + And lowly kneeling, + Shall feel the spell + Of grateful tears + His eyelids fill; + And softly pray + To Him who hears: + God bless old Lawrenceville! + + + +TEXAS + +A DEMOCRATIC ODE [1] + + +I + +THE WILD-BEES + + All along the Brazos river, + All along the Colorado, + In the valleys and the lowlands + Where the trees were tall and stately, + In the rich and rolling meadows + Where the grass was full of wild-flowers, + Came a humming and a buzzing, + Came the murmur of a going + To and fro among the tree-tops, + Far and wide across the meadows. + And the red-men in their tepees + Smoked their pipes of clay and listened. + "What is this?" they asked in wonder; + "Who can give the sound a meaning? + Who can understand the language + Of this going in the tree-tops?" + Then the wisest of the Tejas + Laid his pipe aside and answered: + "O my brothers, these are people, + Very little, winged people, + Countless, busy, banded people, + Coming humming through the timber. + These are tribes of bees, united + By a single aim and purpose, + To possess the Tejas' country, + Gather harvest from the prairies, + Store their wealth among the timber. + These are hive and honey makers, + Sent by Manito to warn us + That the white men now are coming, + With their women and their children. + Not the fiery filibusters + Passing wildly in a moment, + Like a flame across the prairies, + Like a whirlwind through the forest, + Leaving empty lands behind them! + Not the Mexicans and Spaniards, + Indolent and proud hidalgos, + Dwelling in their haciendas, + Dreaming, talking of tomorrow, + While their cattle graze around them, + And their fickle revolutions + Change the rulers, not the people! + Other folk are these who follow + When the wild-bees come to warn us; + These are hive and honey makers, + These are busy, banded people, + Roaming far to swarm and settle, + Working every day for harvest, + Fighting hard for peace and order, + Worshipping as queens their women, + Making homes and building cities + Full of riches and of trouble. + All our hunting-grounds must vanish, + All our lodges fall before them, + All our customs and traditions, + All our happy life of freedom, + Fade away like smoke before them. + Come, my brothers, strike your tepees, + Call your women, load your ponies! + Let us take the trail to westward, + Where the plains are wide and open, + Where the bison-herds are gathered + Waiting for our feathered arrows. + We will live as lived our fathers, + Gleaners of the gifts of nature, + Hunters of the unkept cattle, + Men whose women run to serve them. + If the toiling bees pursue us, + If the white men seek to tame us, + We will fight them off and flee them, + Break their hives and take their honey, + Moving westward, ever westward, + There to live as lived our fathers." + So the red-men drove their ponies, + With the tent-poles trailing after, + Out along the path to sunset, + While along the river valleys + Swarmed the wild-bees, the forerunners; + And the white men, close behind them, + Men of mark from old Missouri, + Men of daring from Kentucky, + Tennessee, Louisiana, + Men of many States and races, + Bringing wives and children with them, + Followed up the wooded valleys, + Spread across the rolling prairies, + Raising homes and reaping harvests. + Rude the toil that tried their patience, + Fierce the fights that proved their courage, + Rough the stone and tough the timber + Out of which they built their order! + Yet they never failed nor faltered, + And the instinct of their swarming + Made them one and kept them working, + Till their toil was crowned with triumph, + And the country of the Tejas + Was the fertile land of Texas. + + +II + +THE LONE STAR + + Behold a star appearing in the South, + A star that shines apart from other stars, + Ruddy and fierce like Mars! + Out of the reeking smoke of cannon's mouth + That veils the slaughter of the Alamo, + Where heroes face the foe, + One man against a score, with blood-choked breath + Shouting the watchword, "Victory or Death--" + Out of the dreadful cloud that settles low + On Goliad's plain, + Where thrice a hundred prisoners lie slain + Beneath the broken word of Mexico-- + Out of the fog of factions and of feuds + That ever drifts and broods + Above the bloody path of border war, + Leaps the Lone Star! + + What light is this that does not dread the dark? + What star is this that fights a stormy way + To San Jacinto's field of victory? + It is the fiery spark + That burns within the breast + Of Anglo-Saxon men, who can not rest + Under a tyrant's sway; + The upward-leading ray + That guides the brave who give their lives away + Rather than not be free! + O question not, but honour every name, + Travis and Crockett, Bowie, Bonham, Ward, + Fannin and King, and all who drew the sword + And dared to die for Texan liberty! + Yea, write them all upon the roll of fame, + But no less love and equal honour give + To those who paid the longer sacrifice-- + Austin and Houston, Burnet, Rusk, Lamar + And all the stalwart men who dared to live + Long years of service to the lonely star. + + Great is the worth of such heroic souls: + Amid the strenuous turmoil of their deeds, + They clearly speak of something that controls + The higher breeds of men by higher needs + Than bees, content with honey in their hives! + Ah, not enough the narrow lives + On profitable toil intent! + And not enough the guerdons of success + Garnered in homes of affluent selfishness! + A noble discontent + Cries for a wider scope + To use the wider wings of human hope; + A vision of the common good + Opens the prison-door of solitude; + And, once beyond the wall, + Breathing the ampler air, + The heart becomes aware + _That life without a country is not life at all._ + A country worthy of a freeman's love; + A country worthy of a good man's prayer; + A country strong, and just, and brave, and fair,-- + A woman's form of beauty throned above + The shrine where noble aspirations meet-- + To live for her is great, to die is sweet! + + Heirs of the rugged pioneers + Who dreamed this dream and made it true, + Remember that they dreamed for you. + They did not fear their fate + In those tempestuous years, + But put their trust in God, and with keen eyes, + Trained in the open air for looking far, + They saw the many-million-acred land + Won from the desert by their hand, + Swiftly among the nations rise,-- + Texas a sovereign State, + And on her brow a star! + + +III + +THE CONSTELLATION + + How strange that the nature of light is a thing beyond our ken, + And the flame of the tiniest candle flows from a fountain sealed! + How strange that the meaning of life, in the little lives of men, + So often baffles our search with a mystery unrevealed! + + But the larger life of man, as it moves in its secular sweep, + Is the working out of a Sovereign Will whose ways appear; + And the course of the journeying stars on the dark blue boundless deep, + Is the place where our science rests in the reign of law most clear. + + I would read the story of Texas as if it were written on high; + I would look from afar to follow her path through the calms and storms; + With a faith in the worldwide sway of the Reason that rules in the sky, + And gathers and guides the starry host in clusters and swarms. + + When she rose in the pride of her youth, she seemed to be moving apart, + As a single star in the South, self-limited, self-possessed; + But the law of the constellation was written deep in her heart, + And she heard when her sisters called, from the North and the East and + the West. + + They were drawn together and moved by a common hope and aim-- + The dream of a sign that should rule a third of the heavenly arch; + The soul of a people spoke in their call, and Texas came + To enter the splendid circle of States in their onward march. + + So the glory gathered and grew and spread from sea to sea, + And the stars of the great republic lent each other light; + For all were bound together in strength, and each was free-- + Suddenly broke the tempest out of the ancient night! + + It came as a clash of the force that drives and the force that draws; + And the stars were riven asunder, the heavens were desolate, + While brother fought with brother, each for his country's cause: + But the country of one was the Nation, the country of other the State. + + Oh, who shall measure the praise or blame in a strife so vast? + And who shall speak of traitors or tyrants when all were true? + We lift our eyes to the sky, and rejoice that the storm is past, + And we thank the God of all that the Union shines in the blue. + + Yea, it glows with the glory of peace and the hope of a mighty race, + High over the grave of broken chains and buried hates; + And the great, big star of Texas is shining clear in its place + In the constellate symbol and sign of the free United States. + + +IV + +AFTER THE PIONEERS + + After the pioneers-- + Big-hearted, big-handed lords of the axe and the plow and the rifle, + Tan-faced tamers of horses and lands, themselves remaining tameless, + Full of fighting, labour and romance, lovers of rude adventure-- + After the pioneers have cleared the way to their homes and graves on the + prairies: + + After the State-builders-- + Zealous and jealous men, dreamers, debaters, often at odds with each + other, + All of them sure it is well to toil and to die, if need be, + Just for the sake of founding a country to leave to their children-- + After the builders have done their work and written their names upon it: + + After the civil war-- + Wildest of all storms, cruel and dark and seemingly wasteful, + Tearing up by the root the vines that were splitting the old foundations, + Washing away with a rain of blood and tears the dust of slavery, + After the cyclone has passed and the sky is fair to the far horizon; + After the era of plenty and peace has come with full hands to Texas, + Then--what then? + + Is it to be the life of an indolent heir, fat-witted and self-contented, + Dwelling at ease in the house that others have builded, + Boasting about the country for which he has done nothing? + Is it to be an age of corpulent, deadly-dull prosperity, + Richer and richer crops to nourish a race of Philistines, + Bigger and bigger cities full of the same confusion and sorrow, + The people increasing mightily but no increase of the joy? + Is this what the forerunners wished and toiled to win for you, + This the reward of war and the fruitage of high endeavor, + This the goal of your hopes and the vision that satisfies you? + + Nay, stand up and answer--I can read what is in your hearts-- + You, the children of those who followed the wild-bees, + You, the children of those who served the Lone Star, + Now that the hives are full and the star is fixed in the constellation, + I know that the best of you still are lovers of sweetness and light! + + You hunger for honey that comes from invisible gardens; + Pure, translucent, golden thoughts and feelings and inspirations, + Sweetness of all the best that has bloomed in the mind of man. + You rejoice in the light that is breaking along the borders of science; + The hidden rays that enable a man to look through a wall of stone; + The unseen, fire-filled wings that carry his words across the ocean; + The splendid gift of flight that shines, half-captured, above him; + The gleam of a thousand half-guessed secrets, just ready to be + discovered! + You dream and devise great things for the coming race-- + Children of yours who shall people and rule the domain of Texas; + They shall know, they shall comprehend more than their fathers, + They shall grow in the vigour of well-rounded manhood and womanhood, + Riper minds, richer hearts, finer souls, the only true wealth of a + nation-- + The league-long fields of the State are pledged to ensure this harvest! + + Your old men have dreamed this dream and your young men have seen this + vision. + The age of romance has not gone, it is only beginning; + Greater words than the ear of man has heard are waiting to be spoken, + Finer arts than the eyes of man have seen are sleeping to be awakened: + Science exploring the scope of the world, + Poetry breathing the hope of the world, + Music to measure and lead the onward march of man! + + Come, ye honoured and welcome guests from the elder nations, + Princes of science and arts and letters, + Look on the walls that embody the generous dream of one of the old men + of Texas, + Enter these halls of learning that rise in the land of the pioneer's + log-cabin, + Read the confessions of faith that are carved on the stones around you: + Faith in the worth of the smallest fact and the laws that govern the + starbeams, + Faith in the beauty of truth and the truth of perfect beauty, + Faith in the God who creates the souls of men by knowledge and love and + worship. + + This is the faith of the New Democracy-- + Proud and humble, patiently pressing forward, + Praising her heroes of old and training her future leaders, + Seeking her crown in a nobler race of men and women-- + After the pioneers, sweetness and light! + +October, 1912. + +[1] Read at the Dedication of the Rice Institute, Houston, Texas, + October, 1912. + + + +WHO FOLLOW THE FLAG + +PHI BETA KAPPA ODE + +HARVARD UNIVERSITY + +June 30, 1910 + + +I + + All day long in the city's canyon-street, + With its populous cliffs alive on either side, + I saw a river of marching men like a tide + Flowing after the flag: and the rhythmic beat + Of the drums, and the bugles' resonant blare + Metred the tramp, tramp, tramp of a myriad feet, + While the red-white-and-blue was fluttering everywhere, + And the heart of the crowd kept time to a martial air: + + _O brave flag, O bright flag, O flag to lead the free! + The glory of thy silver stars, + Engrailed in blue above the bars + Of red for courage, white for truth, + Has brought the world a second youth + And drawn a hundred million hearts to follow after thee._ + + +II + + Old Cambridge saw thee first unfurled, + By Washington's far-reaching hand, + To greet, in Seventy-six, the wintry morn + Of a new year, and herald to the world + Glad tidings from a Western land,-- + A people and a hope new-born! + The double cross then filled thine azure field, + In token of a spirit loath to yield + The breaking ties that bound thee to a throne. + But not for long thine oriflamme could bear + That symbol of an outworn trust in kings. + The wind that bore thee out on widening wings + Called for a greater sign and all thine own,-- + A new device to speak of heavenly laws + And lights that surely guide the people's cause. + Oh, greatly did they hope, and greatly dare, + Who bade the stars in heaven fight for them, + And set upon their battle-flag a fair + New constellation as a diadem! + Along the blood-stained banks of Brandywine + The ragged troops were rallied to this sign; + Through Saratoga's woods it fluttered bright + Amid the perils of the hard-won fight; + O'er Yorktown's meadows broad and green + It hailed the glory of the final scene; + And when at length Manhattan saw + The last invaders' line of scarlet coats + Pass Bowling Green, and fill the waiting boats + And sullenly withdraw, + The flag that proudly flew + Above the battered line of buff and blue, + Marching, with rattling drums and shrilling pipes, + Along the Bowery and down Broadway, + Was this that leads the great parade to-day,-- + The glorious banner of the stars and stripes. + + + _First of the flags of earth to dare + A heraldry so high; + First of the flags of earth to bear + The blazons of the sky; + Long may thy constellation glow, + Foretelling happy fate; + Wider thy starry circle grow, + And every star a State!_ + + +III + + Pass on, pass on, ye flashing files + Of men who march in militant array; + Ye thrilling bugles, throbbing drums, + Ring out, roll on, and die away; + And fade, ye crowds, with the fading day! + Around the city's lofty piles + Of steel and stone + The lilac veil of dusk is thrown, + Entangled full of sparks of fairy light; + And the never-silent heart of the city hums + To a homeward-turning tune before the night. + But far above, on the sky-line's broken height, + From all the towers and domes outlined + In gray and gold along the city's crest, + I see the rippling flag still take the wind + With a promise of good to come for all mankind. + + +IV + + O banner of the west, + No proud and brief parade, + That glorifies a nation's holiday + With show of troops for warfare dressed, + Can rightly measure or display + The mighty army thou hast made + Loyal to guard thy more than royal sway. + Millions have come across the sea + To find beneath thy shelter room to grow; + Millions were born beneath thy folds and know + No other flag but thee. + And other, darker millions bore the yoke + Of bondage in thy borders till the voice + Of Lincoln spoke, + And sent thee forth to set the bondmen free. + Rejoice, dear flag, rejoice! + Since thou hast proved and passed that bitter strife, + Richer thy red with blood of heroes wet, + Purer thy white through sacrificial life, + Brighter thy blue wherein new stars are set. + Thou art become a sign, + Revealed in heaven to speak of things divine: + Of Truth that dares + To slay the lie it sheltered unawares; + Of Courage fearless in the fight, + Yet ever quick its foemen to forgive; + Of Conscience earnest to maintain its right + And gladly grant the same to all who live. + Thy staff is deeply planted in the fact + That nothing can ennoble man + Save his own act, + And naught can make him worthy to be free + But practice in the school of liberty. + The cords are two that lift thee to the sky: + Firm faith in God, the King who rules on high; + And never-failing trust + In human nature, full of faults and flaws, + Yet ever answering to the inward call + That bids it set the "ought" above the "must," + In all its errors wiser than it seems, + In all its failures full of generous dreams, + Through endless conflict rising without pause + To self-dominion, charactered in laws + That pledge fair-play alike to great and small, + And equal rights for each beneath the rule of all. + These are thy halyards, banner bold, + And while these hold, + Thy brightness from the sky shall never fall, + Thy broadening empire never know decrease,-- + Thy strength is union and thy glory peace. + + +V + + Look forth across thy widespread lands, + O flag, and let thy stars to-night be eyes + To see the visionary hosts + Of men and women grateful to be thine, + That joyfully arise + From all thy borders and thy coasts, + And follow after thee in endless line! + They lift to thee a forest of saluting hands; + They hail thee with a rolling ocean-roar + Of cheers; and as the echo dies, + There comes a sweet and moving song + Of treble voices from the childish throng + Who run to thee from every school-house door. + Behold thine army! Here thy power lies: + The men whom freedom has made strong, + And bound to follow thee by willing vows; + The women greatened by the joys + Of motherhood to rule a happy house; + The vigorous girls and boys, + Whose eager faces and unclouded brows + Foretell the future of a noble race, + Rich in the wealth of wisdom and true worth! + While millions such as these to thee belong, + What foe can do thee wrong, + What jealous rival rob thee of thy place + Foremost of all the flags of earth? + + +VI + + My vision darkens as the night descends; + And through the mystic atmosphere + I feel the creeping coldness that portends + A change of spirit in my dream + The multitude that moved with song and cheer + Have vanished, yet a living stream + Flows on and follows still the flag, + But silent now, with leaden feet that lag + And falter in the deepening gloom,-- + A weird battalion bringing up the rear. + Ah, who are these on whom the vital bloom + Of life has withered to the dust of doom? + These little pilgrims prematurely worn + And bent as if they bore the weight of years? + These childish faces, pallid and forlorn, + Too dull for laughter and too hard for tears? + Is this the ghost of that insane crusade + That led ten thousand children long ago, + A flock of innocents, deceived, betrayed, + Yet pressing on through want and woe + To meet their fate, faithful and unafraid? + Nay, for a million children now + Are marching in the long pathetic line, + With weary step and early wrinkled brow; + And at their head appears no holy sign + Of hope in heaven; + For unto them is given + No cross to carry, but a cross to drag. + Before their strength is ripe they bear + The load of labour, toiling underground + In dangerous mines and breathing heavy air + Of crowded shops; their tender lives are bound + To service of the whirling, clattering wheels + That fill the factories with dust and noise; + They are not girls and boys, + But little "hands" who blindly, dumbly feed + With their own blood the hungry god of Greed. + Robbed of their natural joys, + And wounded with a scar that never heals, + They stumble on with heavy-laden soul, + And fall by thousands on the highway lined + With little graves; or reach at last their goal + Of stunted manhood and embittered age, + To brood awhile with dark and troubled mind, + Beside the smouldering fire of sullen rage, + On life's unfruitful work and niggard wage. + Are these the regiments that Freedom rears + To serve her cause in coming years? + Nay, every life that Avarice doth maim + And beggar in the helpless days of youth, + Shall surely claim + A just revenge, and take it without ruth; + And every soul denied the right to grow + Beneath the flag, shall be its secret foe. + Bow down, dear land, in penitence and shame! + Remember now thine oath, so nobly sworn, + To guard an equal lot + For every child within thy borders born! + These are thy children whom thou hast forgot: + They have the bitter right to live, but not + The blessed right to look for happiness. + O lift thy liberating hand once more, + To loose thy little ones from dark duress; + The vital gladness to their hearts restore + In healthful lessons and in happy play; + And set them free to climb the upward way + That leads to self-reliant nobleness. + Speak out, my country, speak at last, + As thou hast spoken in the past, + And clearly, bravely say: + "I will defend + The coming race on whom my hopes depend: + Beneath my flag and on my sacred soil + No child shall bear the crushing yoke of toil." + + +VII + + Look up, look up, ye downcast eyes! + The night is almost gone: + Along the new horizon flies + The banner of the dawn; + The eastern sky is banded low + With white and crimson bars, + While far above the morning glow + The everlasting stars. + + _O bright flag, O brave flag, O flag to lead the free! + The hand of God thy colours blent, + And heaven to earth thy glory lent, + To shield the weak, and guide the strong + To make an end of human wrong, + And draw a countless human host to follow after thee!_ + + + +STAIN NOT THE SKY + + + Ye gods of battle, lords of fear, + Who work your iron will as well + As once ye did with sword and spear, + With rifled gun and rending shell,-- + Masters of sea and land, forbear + The fierce invasion of the inviolate air! + + With patient daring man hath wrought + A hundred years for power to fly; + And will you make his winged thought + A hovering horror in the sky, + Where flocks of human eagles sail, + Dropping their bolts of death on hill and dale? + + Ah no, the sunset is too pure, + The dawn too fair, the noon too bright + For wings of terror to obscure + Their beauty, and betray the night + That keeps for man, above his wars, + The tranquil vision of untroubled stars. + + Pass on, pass on, ye lords of fear! + Your footsteps in the sea are red, + And black on earth your paths appear + With ruined homes and heaps of dead. + Pass on to end your transient reign, + And leave the blue of heaven without a stain. + + The wrong ye wrought will fall to dust, + The right ye shielded will abide; + The world at last will learn to trust + In law to guard, and love to guide; + And Peace of God that answers prayer + Will fall like dew from the inviolate air. + +March 5, 1914. + + + +PEACE-HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC + + + O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand + Hath made our country free; + From all her broad and happy land + May praise arise to Thee. + Fulfill the promise of her youth, + Her liberty defend; + By law and order, love and truth, + America befriend! + + The strength of every State increase + In Union's golden chain; + Her thousand cities fill with peace, + Her million fields with grain. + The virtues of her mingled blood + In one new people blend; + By unity and brotherhood, + America befriend! + + O suffer not her feet to stray; + But guide her untaught might, + That she may walk in peaceful day, + And lead the world in light. + Bring down the proud, lift up the poor, + Unequal ways amend; + By justice, nation-wide and sure, + America befriend! + + Thro' all the waiting land proclaim + Thy gospel of good-will; + And may the music of Thy name + In every bosom thrill. + O'er hill and vale, from sea to sea. + Thy holy reign extend; + By faith and hope and charity, + America befriend! + + + + +THE RED FLOWER AND GOLDEN STARS + + +_These verses were written during the terrible world-war, and +immediately after. The earlier ones had to be unsigned because +America was still "neutral" and I held a diplomatic post. The +rest of them were printed after I had resigned, and was free to +speak out, and to take active service in the Navy, when America +entered the great conflict for liberty and peace on earth._ + +Avalon, February 22, 1920. + + + +THE RED FLOWER + +June, 1914 + + + In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + By the little river Kyll, + I followed the angler's winding path + Or waded the stream at will, + And the friendly fertile German land + Lay round me green and still. + + But all day long on the eastern bank + Of the river cool and clear, + Where the curving track of the double rails + Was hardly seen though near, + The endless trains of German troops + Went rolling down to Trier. + + They packed the windows with bullet heads + And caps of hodden gray; + They laughed and sang and shouted loud + When the trains were brought to a stay; + They waved their hands and sang again + As they went on their iron way. + + No shadow fell on the smiling land, + No cloud arose in the sky; + I could hear the river's quiet tune + When the trains had rattled by; + But my heart sank low with a heavy sense + Of trouble,--I knew not why. + + Then came I into a certain field + Where the devil's paint-brush spread + 'Mid the gray and green of the rolling hills + A flaring splotch of red,-- + An evil omen, a bloody sign, + And a token of many dead. + + I saw in a vision the field-gray horde + Break forth at the devil's hour, + And trample the earth into crimson mud + In the rage of the Will to Power,-- + All this I dreamed in the valley of Kyll, + At the sign of the blood-red flower. + + + +A SCRAP OF PAPER + + "Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?"--_Question of the + German Chancellor to the British Ambassador_, _August 5_, 1914. + + + A mocking question! Britain's answer came + Swift as the light and searching as the flame. + + "Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight + Till our last breath, and God defend the right! + + "A scrap of paper where a name is set + Is strong as duty's pledge and honor's debt. + + "A scrap of paper holds for man and wife + The sacrament of love, the bond of life. + + "A scrap of paper may be Holy Writ + With God's eternal word to hallow it. + + "A scrap of paper binds us both to stand + Defenders of a neutral neighbor land. + + "By God, by faith, by honor, yes! We fight + To keep our name upon that paper white." + +September, 1914. + + + +STAND FAST + + + Stand fast, Great Britain! + Together England, Scotland, Ireland stand + One in the faith that makes a mighty land,-- + True to the bond you gave and will not break + And fearless in the fight for conscience' sake! + Against the Giant Robber clad in steel, + With blood of trampled Belgium on his heel, + Striding through France to strike you down at last, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, brave land! + The Huns are thundering toward the citadel; + They prate of Culture but their path is Hell; + Their light is darkness, and the bloody sword + They wield and worship is their only Lord. + O land where reason stands secure on right, + O land where freedom is the source of light, + Against the mailed Barbarians' deadly blast, + Britain, stand fast! + + Stand fast, dear land! + Thou island mother of a world-wide race, + Whose children speak thy tongue and love thy face, + Their hearts and hopes are with thee in the strife, + Their hands will break the sword that seeks thy life; + Fight on until the Teuton madness cease; + Fight bravely on, until the word of peace + Is spoken in the English tongue at last,-- + Britain, stand fast! + +September, 1914. + + + +LIGHTS OUT + +(1915) + + + "Lights out" along the land, + "Lights out" upon the sea. + The night must put her hiding hand + O'er peaceful towns where children sleep, + And peaceful ships that darkly creep + Across the waves, as if they were not free. + + The dragons of the air, + The hell-hounds of the deep, + Lurking and prowling everywhere, + Go forth to seek their helpless prey, + Not knowing whom they maim or slay-- + Mad harvesters, who care not what they reap. + + Out with the tranquil lights, + Out with the lights that burn + For love and law and human rights! + Set back the clock a thousand years: + All they have gained now disappears, + And the dark ages suddenly return. + + Kaiser, who loosed wild death, + And terror in the night, + God grant you draw no quiet breath, + Until the madness you began + Is ended, and long-suffering man, + Set free from war lords, cries, "Let there be Light." + +October, 1915. + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, November, 1915. + + + +REMARKS ABOUT KINGS + +"_God said I am tired of kings._"--EMERSON. + + + God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- + But that was a long while ago! + And meantime man said, "No,-- + I like their looks in their robes and rings." + So he crowned a few more, + And they went on playing the game as before, + Fighting and spoiling things. + + Man said, "I am tired of kings! + Sons of the robber-chiefs of yore, + They make me pay for their lust and their war; + I am the puppet, they pull the strings; + The blood of my heart is the wine they drink. + I will govern myself for awhile I think, + And see what that brings!" + + Then God, who made the first remark, + Smiled in the dark. + +October, 1915. + +Read at the meeting of the American Academy, Boston, November, 1915. + + + +MIGHT AND RIGHT + + + If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage; + If Right made Might, this were the golden age; + But now, until we win the long campaign, + Right must gain Might to conquer and to reign. + +July 1, 1915. + + + +THE PRICE OF PEACE + + + Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- + A coward cringing to an iron Fate! + But Peace through Justice is the great ideal,-- + We'll pay the price of war to make it real. + +December 28, 1916. + + + +STORM-MUSIC + + + O Music hast thou only heard + The laughing river, the singing bird, + The murmuring wind in the poplar-trees,-- + Nothing but Nature's melodies? + Nay, thou hearest all her tones, + As a Queen must hear! + Sounds of wrath and fear, + Mutterings, shouts, and moans, + Madness, tumult, and despair,-- + All she has that shakes the air + With voices fierce and wild! + Thou art a Queen and not a dreaming child,-- + Put on thy crown and let us hear thee reign + Triumphant in a world of storm and strain! + + Echo the long-drawn sighs + Of the mounting wind in the pines; + And the sobs of the mounting waves that rise + In the dark of the troubled deep + To break on the beach in fiery lines. + Echo the far-off roll of thunder, + Rumbling loud + And ever louder, under + The blue-black curtain of cloud, + Where the lightning serpents gleam. + Echo the moaning + Of the forest in its sleep + Like a giant groaning + In the torment of a dream. + + Now an interval of quiet + For a moment holds the air + In the breathless hush + Of a silent prayer. + + Then the sudden rush + Of the rain, and the riot + Of the shrieking, tearing gale + Breaks loose in the night, + With a fusillade of hail! + Hear the forest fight, + With its tossing arms that crack and clash + In the thunder's cannonade, + While the lightning's forked flash + Brings the old hero-trees to the ground with a crash! + Hear the breakers' deepening roar, + Driven like a herd of cattle + In the wild stampede of battle, + Trampling, trampling, trampling, to overwhelm the shore! + + Is it the end of all? + Will the land crumble and fall? + Nay, for a voice replies + Out of the hidden skies, + "Thus far, O sea, shalt thou go, + So long, O wind, shalt thou blow: + Return to your bounds and cease, + And let the earth have peace!" + + O Music, lead the way-- + The stormy night is past, + Lift up our hearts to greet the day, + And the joy of things that last. + + The dissonance and pain + That mortals must endure, + Are changed in thine immortal strain + To something great and pure. + + True love will conquer strife, + And strength from conflict flows, + For discord is the thorn of life + And harmony the rose. + +May, 1916. + + + +THE BELLS OF MALINES + +August 17, 1914 + + + The gabled roofs of old Malines + Are russet red and gray and green, + And o'er them in the sunset hour + Looms, dark and huge, St. Rombold's tower. + High in that rugged nest concealed, + The sweetest bells that ever pealed, + The deepest bells that ever rung, + The lightest bells that ever sung, + Are waiting for the master's hand + To fling their music o'er the land. + + And shall they ring to-night, Malines? + In nineteen hundred and fourteen, + The frightful year, the year of woe, + When fire and blood and rapine flow + Across the land from lost Liege, + Storm-driven by the German rage? + The other carillons have ceased: + Fallen is Hasselt, fallen Diest, + From Ghent and Bruges no voices come, + Antwerp is silent, Brussels dumb! + + But in thy belfry, O Malines, + The master of the bells unseen + Has climbed to where the keyboard stands,-- + To-night his heart is in his hands! + Once more, before invasion's hell + Breaks round the tower he loves so well, + Once more he strikes the well-worn keys, + And sends aerial harmonies + Far-floating through the twilight dim + In patriot song and holy hymn. + + O listen, burghers of Malines! + Soldier and workman, pale beguine, + And mother with a trembling flock + Of children clinging to thy frock,-- + Look up and listen, listen all! + What tunes are these that gently fall + Around you like a benison? + "The Flemish Lion," "Brabanconne," + "O brave Liege," and all the airs + That Belgium in her bosom bears. + + Ring up, ye silvery octaves high, + Whose notes like circling swallows fly; + And ring, each old sonorous bell,-- + "Jesu," "Maria," "Michael!" + Weave in and out, and high and low, + The magic music that you know, + And let it float and flutter down + To cheer the heart of the troubled town. + Ring out, "Salvator," lord of all,-- + "Roland" in Ghent may hear thee call! + + O brave bell-music of Malines, + In this dark hour how much you mean! + The dreadful night of blood and tears + Sweeps down on Belgium, but she hears + Deep in her heart the melody + Of songs she learned when she was free. + She will not falter, faint, nor fail, + But fight until her rights prevail + And all her ancient belfries ring + "The Flemish Lion," "God Save the King!" + + + +JEANNE D'ARC RETURNS [2] + +1914-1916 + + + What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + Mother and daughter, sister, sweetheart, wife, + What hast thou done, amid this fateful strife, + To prove the pride of thine inheritance + In this fair land of freedom and romance? + I hear thy voice with tears and courage rife,-- + Smiling against the swords that seek thy life,-- + Make answer in a noble utterance: + "I give France all I have, and all she asks. + Would it were more! Ah, let her ask and take: + My hands to nurse her wounded, do her tasks,-- + My feet to run her errands through the dark,-- + My heart to bleed in triumph for her sake,-- + And all my soul to follow thee, Jeanne d'Arc!" + +April 16, 1916. + +[2] This sonnet belongs with the poem on page 309, + "Come Back Again, Jeanne D'Arc." + + + +THE NAME OF FRANCE + + + Give us a name to fill the mind + With the shining thoughts that lead mankind, + The glory of learning, the joy of art,-- + A name that tells of a splendid part + In the long, long toil and the strenuous fight + Of the human race to win its way + From the feudal darkness into the day + Of Freedom, Brotherhood, Equal Right,-- + A name like a star, a name of light. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to stir the blood + With a warmer glow and a swifter flood, + At the touch of a courage that conquers fear,-- + A name like the sound of a trumpet, clear, + And silver-sweet, and iron-strong, + That calls three million men to their feet, + Ready to march, and steady to meet + The foes who threaten that name with wrong,-- + A name that rings like a battle-song. + I give you _France_! + + Give us a name to move the heart + With the strength that noble griefs impart, + A name that speaks of the blood outpoured + To save mankind from the sway of the sword,-- + A name that calls on the world to share + In the burden of sacrificial strife + When the cause at stake is the world's free life + And the rule of the people everywhere,-- + A name like a vow, a name like a prayer. + I give you _France_! + +The Hague, September, 1916. + + + +AMERICA'S PROSPERITY + + + They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + In glittering flood has poured into thy chest; + Thy flocks and herds increase, thy barns are pressed + With harvest, and thy stores can hardly hold + Their merchandise; unending trains are rolled + Along thy network rails of East and West; + Thy factories and forges never rest; + Thou art enriched in all things bought and sold! + + But dost _thou_ prosper? Better news I crave. + O dearest country, is it well with thee + Indeed, and is thy soul in health? + A nobler people, hearts more wisely brave, + And thoughts that lift men up and make them free,-- + These are prosperity and vital wealth! + +The Hague, October 1, 1916. + + + +THE GLORY OF SHIPS + + + The glory of ships is an old, old song, + since the days when the sea-rovers ran, + In their open boats through the roaring surf, + and the spread of the world began; + The glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man. + + When Homer sang of the galleys of Greece + that conquered the Trojan shore, + And Solomon lauded the barks of Tyre + that brought great wealth to his door, + 'Twas little they knew, those ancient men, + what would come of the sail and the oar. + + The Greek ships rescued the West from the East, + when they harried the Persians home; + And the Roman ships were the wings of strength + that bore up the empire, Rome; + And the ships of Spain found a wide new world, + far over the fields of foam. + + Then the tribes of courage at last saw clear + that the ocean was not a bound, + But a broad highway, and a challenge to seek + for treasure as yet unfound; + So the fearless ships fared forth to the search, + in joy that the globe was round. + + Their hulls were heightened, their sails spread out, + they grew with the growth of their quest; + They opened the secret doors of the East, + and the golden gates of the West; + And many a city of high renown + was proud of a ship on its crest. + + The fleets of England and Holland and France + were at strife with each other and Spain; + And battle and storm sent a myriad ships + to sleep in the depths of the main; + But the seafaring spirit could never be drowned, + and it filled up the fleets again. + + They greatened and grew, with the aid of steam, + to a wonderful, vast array, + That carries the thoughts and the traffic of men + into every harbor and bay; + And now in the world-wide work of the ships + 'tis England that leads the way. + + O well for the leading that follows the law + of a common right on the sea! + But ill for the leader who tries to hold + what belongs to mankind in fee! + The way of the ships is an open way, + and the ocean must ever be free! + + Remember, O first of the maritime folk, + how the rise of your greatness began. + It will live if you safeguard the round-the-world road + from the shame of a selfish ban; + For the glory of ships is a light on the sea, + and a star in the story of man! + +September 12, 1916. + + + +MARE LIBERUM + + +I + + You dare to say with perjured lips, + "We fight to make the ocean free"? + _You_, whose black trail of butchered ships + Bestrews the bed of every sea + Where German submarines have wrought + Their horrors! Have you never thought,-- + What you call freedom, men call piracy! + + +II + + Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave, + Where you have murdered, cry you down; + And seamen whom you would not save, + Weave now in weed-grown depths a crown + Of shame for your imperious head, + A dark memorial of the dead + Women and children whom you sent to drown. + + +III + + Nay, not till thieves are set to guard + The gold, and corsairs called to keep + O'er peaceful commerce watch and ward, + And wolves to herd the helpless sheep, + Shall men and women look to thee, + Thou ruthless Old Man of the Sea, + To safeguard law and freedom on the deep! + + +IV + + In nobler breeds we put our trust: + The nations in whose sacred lore + The "Ought" stands out above the "Must," + And honor rules in peace and war. + With these we hold in soul and heart, + With these we choose our lot and part, + Till Liberty is safe on sea and shore. + +_London Times_, February 12, 1917. + + + +"LIBERTY ENLIGHTENING THE WORLD" + + + Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, + The fogs of doubt that hid thy face are driven clean away: + Thine eyes at last look far and clear, thou liftest high thy hand + To spread the light of liberty world-wide for every land. + + No more thou dreamest of a peace reserved alone for thee, + While friends are fighting for thy cause beyond the guardian sea: + The battle that they wage is thine; thou fallest if they fall; + The swollen flood of Prussian pride will sweep unchecked o'er all. + + O cruel is the conquer-lust in Hohenzollern brains: + The paths they plot to gain their goal are dark with shameful stains; + No faith they keep, no law revere, no god but naked Might; + They are the foemen of mankind. Up, Liberty, and smite! + + Britain, and France, and Italy, and Russia newly born, + Have waited for thee in the night. Oh, come as comes the morn! + Serene and strong and full of faith, America, arise, + With steady hope and mighty help to join thy brave Allies. + + O dearest country of my heart, home of the high desire, + Make clean thy soul for sacrifice on Freedom's altar-fire: + For thou must suffer, thou must fight, until the warlords cease, + And all the peoples lift their heads in liberty and peace. + +_London Times_, April 12, 1917. + + + +THE OXFORD THRUSHES + +February, 1917 + + + I never thought again to hear + The Oxford thrushes singing clear, + Amid the February rain, + Their sweet, indomitable strain. + + A wintry vapor lightly spreads + Among the trees, and round the beds + Where daffodil and jonquil sleep; + Only the snowdrop wakes to weep. + + It is not springtime yet. Alas, + What dark, tempestuous days must pass, + Till England's trial by battle cease, + And summer comes again with peace. + + The lofty halls, the tranquil towers, + Where Learning in untroubled hours + Held her high court, serene in fame, + Are lovely still, yet not the same. + + The novices in fluttering gown + No longer fill the ancient town; + But fighting men in khaki drest, + And in the Schools the wounded rest. + + Ah, far away, 'neath stranger skies + Full many a son of Oxford lies, + And whispers from his warrior grave, + "I died to keep the faith you gave." + + The mother mourns, but does not fail, + Her courage and her love prevail + O'er sorrow, and her spirit hears + The promise of triumphant years. + + Then sing, ye thrushes, in the rain + Your sweet indomitable strain. + Ye bring a word from God on high + And voices in our hearts reply. + + + +HOMEWARD BOUND + + + Home, for my heart still calls me; + Home, through the danger zone; + Home, whatever befalls me, + I will sail again to my own! + + Wolves of the sea are hiding + Closely along the way, + Under the water biding + Their moment to rend and slay. + + Black is the eagle that brands them, + Black are their hearts as the nights + Black is the hate that sends them + To murder but not to fight. + + Flower of the German Culture, + Boast of the Kaiser's Marine, + Choose for your emblem the vulture, + Cowardly, cruel, obscene! + + Forth from her sheltered haven + Our peaceful ship glides slow, + Noiseless in flight as a raven, + Gray as a hoodie crow. + + She doubles and turns in her bearing, + Like a twisting plover she goes; + The way of her westward faring + Only the captain knows. + + In a lonely bay concealing + She lingers for days, and slips + At dusk from her covert, stealing + Thro' channels feared by the ships. + + Brave are the men, and steady, + Who guide her over the deep,-- + British mariners, ready + To face the sea-wolf's leap. + + Lord of the winds and waters, + Bring our ship to her mark, + Safe from this game of hide-and-seek + With murderers in the dark! + +On the S.S. _Baltic_, May, 1917. + + + +THE WINDS OF WAR-NEWS + + + The winds of war-news change and veer: + Now westerly and full of cheer, + Now easterly, depressing, sour + With tidings of the Teutons' power. + + But thou, America, whose heart + With brave Allies has taken part, + Be not a weathercock to change + With these wild winds that shift and range. + + Be thou a compass ever true, + Through sullen clouds or skies of blue, + To that great star which rules the night,-- + The star of Liberty and Right. + + Lover of peace, oh set thy soul, + Thy strength, thy wealth, thy conscience whole, + To win the peace thine eyes foresee,-- + The triumph of Democracy. + +December 19, 1917. + + + +RIGHTEOUS WRATH + + + There are many kinds of anger, as many kinds of fire; + And some are fierce and fatal with murderous desire; + And some are mean and craven, revengeful, sullen, slow, + They hurt the man that holds them more than they hurt his foe. + + And yet there is an anger that purifies the heart: + The anger of the better against the baser part, + Against the false and wicked, against the tyrant's sword, + Against the enemies of love, and all that hate the Lord. + + O cleansing indignation, O flame of righteous wrath, + Give me a soul to feel thee and follow in thy path! + Save me from selfish virtue, arm me for fearless fight, + And give me strength to carry on, a soldier of the Right! + +January, 1918. + + + +THE PEACEFUL WARRIOR + + + I have no joy in strife, + Peace is my great desire; + Yet God forbid I lose my life + Through fear to face the fire. + + A peaceful man must fight + For that which peace demands,-- + Freedom and faith, honor and right, + Defend with heart and hands. + + Farewell, my friendly books; + Farewell, ye woods and streams; + The fate that calls me forward looks + To a duty beyond dreams. + + Oh, better to be dead + With a face turned to the sky, + Than live beneath a slavish dread + And serve a giant lie. + + Stand up, my heart, and strive + For the things most dear to thee! + Why should we care to be alive + Unless the world is free? + +May, 1918. + + + +FROM GLORY UNTO GLORY + +AMERICAN FLAG SONG + + +1776 + + O dark the night and dim the day + When first our flag arose; + It fluttered bravely in the fray + To meet o'erwhelming foes. + Our fathers saw the splendor shine, + They dared and suffered all; + They won our freedom by the sign-- + The holy sign, the radiant sign-- + Of the stars that never fall. + + +_Chorus_ + + All hail to thee, Young Glory! + Among the flags of earth + We'll ne'er forget the story + Of thy heroic birth. + + +1861 + + O wild the later storm that shook + The pillars of the State, + When brother against brother took + The final arms of fate. + But union lived and peace divine + Enfolded brothers all; + The flag floats o'er them with the sign-- + The loyal sign, the equal sign-- + Of the stars that never fall. + + +_Chorus_ + + All hail to thee, Old Glory! + Of thee our heart's desire + Foretells a golden story, + For thou hast come through fire. + + +1917 + + O fiercer than all wars before + That raged on land or sea, + The Giant Robber's world-wide war + For the things that shall not be! + Thy sister banners hold the line; + To thee, dear flag, they call; + And thou hast joined them with the sign-- + The heavenly sign, the victor sign-- + Of the stars that never fall. + + +_Chorus_ + + All hail to thee, New Glory! + We follow thee unfurled + To write the larger story + Of Freedom for the World. + +September 4, 1918. + + + +BRITAIN, FRANCE, AMERICA + + + The rough expanse of democratic sea + Which parts the lands that live by liberty + Is no division; for their hearts are one. + To fight together till their cause is won. + + For land and water let us make our pact, + And seal the solemn word with valiant act: + No continent is firm, no ocean pure, + Until on both the rights of man are sure. + +April, 1917. + + + +THE RED CROSS + + + Sign of the Love Divine + That bends to bear the load + Of all who suffer, all who bleed, + Along life's thorny road: + + Sign of the Heart Humane, + That through the darkest fight + Would bring to wounded friend and foe + A ministry of light: + + O dear and holy sign, + Lead onward like a star! + The armies of the just are thine, + And all we have and are. + +October 20, 1918. + +For the Red Cross Christmas Roll Call. + + + +EASTER ROAD + +1918 + + + Under the cloud of world-wide war, + While earth is drenched with sorrow, + I have no heart for idle merrymaking, + Or for the fashioning of glad raiment. + I will retrace the divine footmarks, + On the Road of the first Easter. + + Down through the valley of utter darkness + Dripping with blood and tears; + Over the hill of the skull, the little hill of great anguish, + The ambuscade of Death. + Into the no-man's-land of Hades + Bearing despatches of hope to spirits in prison, + Mortally stricken and triumphant + Went the faithful Captain of Salvation. + + Then upward, swiftly upward,-- + Victory, liberty, glory, + The feet that were wounded walked in the tranquil garden, + Bathed in dew and the light of deathless dawn. + + O my soul, my comrades, soldiers of freedom, + Follow the pathway of Easter, for there is no other, + Follow it through to peace, yea, follow it fighting. + This Armageddon is not darker than Calvary. + The day will break when the Dragon is vanquished; + He that exalteth himself as God shall be cast down, + And the Lords of war shall fall, + And the long, long terror be ended, + Victory, justice, peace enduring! + They that die in this cause shall live forever, + And they that live shall never die, + They shall rejoice together in the Easter of a new world. + +March 31, 1918. + + + +AMERICA'S WELCOME HOME + + + Oh, gallantly they fared forth in khaki and in blue, + America's crusading host of warriors bold and true; + They battled for the rights of man beside our brave Allies, + And now they're coming home to us with glory in their eyes. + + _Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! + Our hearts are turning home again and there we long to be, + In our beautiful big country beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + + Our boys have seen the Old World as none have seen before. + They know the grisly horror of the German gods of war: + The noble faith of Britain and the hero-heart of France, + The soul of Belgium's fortitude and Italy's romance. + + They bore our country's great word across the rolling sea, + "America swears brotherhood with all the just and free." + They wrote that word victorious on fields of mortal strife, + And many a valiant lad was proud to seal it with his life. + + Oh, welcome home in Heaven's peace, dear spirits of the dead! + And welcome home ye living sons America hath bred! + The lords of war are beaten down, your glorious task is done; + You fought to make the whole world free, and the victory is won. + + _Now it's home again, and home again, our hearts are turning west, + Of all the lands beneath the sun America is best. + We're going home to our own folks, beyond the ocean bars, + Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._ + +November 11, 1918. + +A sequel to "America For Me," written in 1909. Page 314. + + + +THE SURRENDER OF THE GERMAN FLEET + + + Ship after ship, and every one with a high-resounding name, + From the robber-nest of Heligoland the German war-fleet came; + Not victory or death they sought, but a rendezvous of shame. + + _Sing out, sing out, + A joyful shout, + Ye lovers of the sea! + The "Kaiser" and the "Kaiserin," + The "Koenig" and the "Prinz," + The potentates of piracy, + Are coming to surrender, + And the ocean shall be free._ + + They never dared the final fate of battle on the blue; + Their sea-wolves murdered merchantmen and mocked the drowning crew; + They stained the wave with martyr-blood,--but we sent our transports + through! + + What flags are these that dumbly droop from the gaff o' the mainmast + tall? + The black of the Kaiser's iron cross, the red of the Empire's fall! + Come down, come down, ye pirate flags. Yea, strike your colors all. + + The Union Jack and the Tricolor and the Starry Flag o' the West + Shall guard the fruit of Freedom's war and the victory confest, + The flags of the brave and just and free shall rule on the ocean's + breast. + + _Sing out, sing out, + A mighty shout, + Ye lovers of the sea! + The "Kaiser" and the "Kaiserin," + The "Koenig" and the "Prinz," + The robber-lords of death and sin, + Have come to their surrender, + And the ocean shall be free!_ + +November 20, 1918. + + + +GOLDEN STARS + + +I + + It was my lot of late to travel far + Through all America's domain, + A willing, gray-haired servitor + Bearing the Fiery Cross of righteous war. + And everywhere, on mountain, vale and plain, + In crowded street and lonely cottage door, + I saw the symbol of the bright blue star. + Millions of stars! Rejoice, dear land, rejoice + That God hath made thee great enough to give + Beneath thy starry flag unfurled + A gift to all the world,-- + Thy living sons that Liberty might live. + + +II + + It seems but yesterday they sallied forth + Boys of the east, the west, the south, the north, + High-hearted, keen, with laughter and with song, + Fearless of lurking danger on the sea, + Eager to fight in Flanders or in France + Against the monstrous German wrong, + And sure of victory! + Brothers in soul with British and with French + They held their ground in many a bloody trench; + And when the swift word came-- + _Advance!_ + Over the top they went through waves of flame,-- + Confident, reckless, irresistible, + Real Americans,-- + Their rush was never stayed + Until the foe fell back, defeated and dismayed. + O land that bore them, write upon thy roll + Of battles won + To liberate the human soul, + Chateau Thierry and Saint Mihiel + And the fierce agony of the Argonne; + Yea, count among thy little rivers, dear + Because of friends whose feet have trodden there, + The Marne, the Meuse, and the Moselle. + + +III + + Now the vile sword + In Potsdam forged and bathed in hell, + Is beaten down, the victory given + To the sword forged in faith and bathed in heaven. + Now home again our heroes come: + Oh, welcome them with bugle and with drum, + Ring bells, blow whistles, make a joyful noise + Unto the Lord, + And welcome home our blue-star boys, + Whose manhood has made known + To all the world America, + Unselfish, brave and free, the Great Republic, + Who lives not to herself alone. + + +IV + + But many a lad we hold + Dear in our heart of hearts + Is missing from the home-returning host. + Ah, say not they are lost, + For they have found and given their life + In sacrificial strife: + Their service stars have changed from blue to gold! + That sudden rapture took them far away, + Yet are they here with us to-day, + Even as the heavenly stars we cannot see + Through the bright veil of sunlight, + Shed their influence still + On our vexed life, and promise peace + From God to all men of good will. + + +V + + What wreaths shall we entwine + For our dear boys to deck their holy shrine? + Mountain-laurel, morning-glory, + Goldenrod and asters blue, + Purple loosestrife, prince's-pine, + Wild-azalea, meadow-rue, + Nodding-lilies, columbine,-- + All the native blooms that grew + In these fresh woods and pastures new, + Wherein they loved to ramble and to play. + Bring no exotic flowers: + America was in their hearts, + And they are ours + For ever and a day. + + +VI + + O happy warriors, forgive the tear + Falling from eyes that miss you: + Forgive the word of grief from mother-lips + That ne'er on earth shall kiss you; + Hear only what our hearts would have you hear,-- + Glory and praise and gratitude and pride + From the dear country in whose cause you died. + Now you have run your race and won your prize, + Old age shall never burden you, the fears + And conflicts that beset our lingering years + Shall never vex your souls in Paradise. + Immortal, young, and crowned with victory, + From life's long battle you have found release. + And He who died for all on Calvary + Has welcomed you, brave soldiers of the cross, + Into eternal Peace. + + +VII + + Come, let us gird our loins and lift our load, + Companions who are left on life's rough road, + And bravely take the way that we must tread + To keep true faith with our beloved dead. + To conquer war they dared their lives to give, + To safeguard peace our hearts must learn to live. + Help us, dear God, our forward faith to hold! + We want a better world than that of old. + Lead us on paths of high endeavor, + Toiling upward, climbing ever, + Ready to suffer for the right, + Until at last we gain a loftier height, + More worthy to behold + Our guiding stars, our hero-stars of gold. + +Ode for the Memorial Service, +Princeton University, December 15, 1918. + + + +IN THE BLUE HEAVEN + + + In the blue heaven the clouds will come and go, + Scudding before the gale, or drifting slow + As galleons becalmed in Sundown Bay: + And through the air the birds will wing their way + Soaring to far-off heights, or flapping low, + Or darting like an arrow from the bow; + And when the twilight comes the stars will show, + One after one, their tranquil bright array + In the blue heaven. + + But ye who fearless flew to meet the foe, + Eagles of freedom,--nevermore, we know, + Shall we behold you floating far away. + Yet clouds and birds and every starry ray + Will draw our heart to where your spirits glow + In the blue Heaven. + +For the American Aviators who died in the war. + +March, 1919. + + + +A SHRINE IN THE PANTHEON + +FOR THE UNNAMED SOLDIERS WHO DIED IN FRANCE + + +Universal approval has been accorded the proposal made in the +French Chamber that the ashes of an unnamed French soldier, +fallen for his country, shall be removed with solemn ceremony to +the Pantheon. In this way it is intended to honor by a symbolic +ceremony the memory of all who lie in unmarked graves. + + + Here the great heart of France, + Victor in noble strife, + Doth consecrate a Poilu's tomb + To those who saved her life! + + Brave son without a name, + Your country calls you home, + To rest among her heirs of fame, + Beneath the Pantheon's dome! + + Now from the height of Heaven, + The souls of heroes look; + Their names, ungraven on this stone, + Are written in God's book. + + Women of France, who mourn + Your dead in unmarked ground, + Come hither! Here the man you loved + In the heart of France is found! + + + + +IN PRAISE OF POETS + + + +MOTHER EARTH + + + Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed, + Mother of all the grass that weaves over their graves the glory of the + field, + Mother of all the manifold forms of life, deep-bosomed, patient, + impassive, + Silent brooder and nurse of lyrical joys and sorrows! + Out of thee, yea, surely out of the fertile depth below thy breast, + Issued in some strange way, thou lying motionless, voiceless, + All these songs of nature, rhythmical, passionate, yearning. + Coming in music from earth, but not unto earth returning. + + Dust are the blood-red hearts that beat in time to these measures, + Thou hast taken them back to thyself, secretly, irresistibly + Drawing the crimson currents of life down, down, down + Deep into thy bosom again, as a river is lost in the sand. + But the souls of the singers have entered into the songs that revealed + them,-- + Passionate songs, immortal songs of joy and grief and love and longing, + Floating from heart to heart of thy children, they echo above thee: + Do they not utter thy heart, the voices of those that love thee? + + Long hadst thou lain like a queen transformed by some old enchantment + Into an alien shape, mysterious, beautiful, speechless, + Knowing not who thou wert, till the touch of thy Lord and Lover + Wakened the man-child within thee to tell thy secret. + All of thy flowers and birds and forests and flowing waters + Are but the rhythmical forms to reveal the life of the spirit; + Thou thyself, earth-mother, in mountain and meadow and ocean, + Holdest the poem of God, eternal thought and emotion. + +December, 1905. + + + +MILTON + + +I + + Lover of beauty, walking on the height + Of pure philosophy and tranquil song; + Born to behold the visions that belong + To those who dwell in melody and light; + Milton, thou spirit delicate and bright! + What drew thee down to join the Roundhead throng + Of iron-sided warriors, rude and strong, + Fighting for freedom in a world half night? + + Lover of Liberty at heart wast thou, + Above all beauty bright, all music clear: + To thee she bared her bosom and her brow, + Breathing her virgin promise in thine ear, + And bound thee to her with a double vow,-- + Exquisite Puritan, grave Cavalier! + + +II + + The cause, the cause for which thy soul resigned + Her singing robes to battle on the plain, + Was won, O poet, and was lost again; + And lost the labour of thy lonely mind + On weary tasks of prose. What wilt thou find + To comfort thee for all the toil and pain? + What solace, now thy sacrifice is vain + And thou art left forsaken, poor, and blind? + + Like organ-music comes the deep reply: + "The cause of truth looks lost, but shall be won. + For God hath given to mine inward eye + Vision of England soaring to the sun. + And granted me great peace before I die, + In thoughts of lowly duty bravely done." + + +III + + O bend again above thine organ-board, + Thou blind old poet longing for repose! + Thy Master claims thy service not with those + Who only stand and wait for His reward; + He pours the heavenly gift of song restored + Into thy breast, and bids thee nobly close + A noble life, with poetry that flows + In mighty music of the major chord. + + Where hast thou learned this deep, majestic strain, + Surpassing all thy youthful lyric grace, + To sing of Paradise? Ah, not in vain + The griefs that won at Dante's side thy place, + And made thee, Milton, by thy years of pain, + The loftiest poet of the English race! + +1908. + + + +WORDSWORTH + + + Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls + Among the mountains, and thy song is fed + By living springs far up the watershed; + No whirling flood nor parching drought controls + The crystal current: even on the shoals + It murmurs clear and sweet; and when its bed + Deepens below mysterious cliffs of dread, + Thy voice of peace grows deeper in our souls. + + But thou in youth hast known the breaking stress + Of passion, and hast trod despair's dry ground + Beneath black thoughts that wither and destroy. + Ah, wanderer, led by human tenderness + Home to the heart of Nature, thou hast found + The hidden Fountain of Recovered Joy. + +October, 1906. + + + +KEATS + + + The melancholy gift Aurora gained + From Jove, that her sad lover should not see + The face of death, no goddess asked for thee, + My Keats! But when the scarlet blood-drop stained + Thy pillow, thou didst read the fate ordained,-- + Brief life, wild love, a flight of poesy! + And then,--a shadow fell on Italy: + Thy star went down before its brightness waned. + + Yet thou hast won the gift Tithonus missed: + Never to feel the pain of growing old, + Nor lose the blissful sight of beauty's truth, + But with the ardent lips Urania kissed + To breathe thy song, and, ere thy heart grew cold, + Become the Poet of Immortal Youth. + +August, 1906. + + + +SHELLEY + + + Knight-errant of the Never-ending Quest, + And Minstrel of the Unfulfilled Desire; + For ever tuning thy frail earthly lyre + To some unearthly music, and possessed + With painful passionate longing to invest + The golden dream of Love's immortal fire + With mortal robes of beautiful attire, + And fold perfection to thy throbbing breast! + + What wonder, Shelley, that the restless wave + Should claim thee and the leaping flame consume + Thy drifted form on Viareggio's beach? + These were thine elements,--thy fitting grave. + But still thy soul rides on with fiery plume, + Thy wild song rings in ocean's yearning speech! + +August, 1906. + + + +ROBERT BROWNING + + + How blind the toil that burrows like the mole, + In winding graveyard pathways underground, + For Browning's lineage! What if men have found + Poor footmen or rich merchants on the roll + Of his forbears? Did they beget his soul? + Nay, for he came of ancestry renowned + Through all the world,--the poets laurel-crowned + With wreaths from which the autumn takes no toll. + + The blazons on his coat-of-arms are these: + The flaming sign of Shelley's heart on fire, + The golden globe of Shakespeare's human stage, + The staff and scrip of Chaucer's pilgrimage, + The rose of Dante's deep, divine desire, + The tragic mask of wise Euripides. + +November, 1906. + + + +TENNYSON + +In Lucem Transitus, October, 1892 + + + From the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendours of the moon, + To the singing tides of heaven, and the light more clear than noon, + Passed a soul that grew to music till it was with God in tune. + + Brother of the greatest poets, true to nature, true to art; + Lover of Immortal Love, uplifter of the human heart; + Who shall cheer us with high music, who shall sing, if thou depart? + + Silence here--for love is silent, gazing on the lessening sail; + Silence here--for grief is voiceless when the mighty minstrels fail; + Silence here--but far beyond us, many voices crying, Hail! + + + +"IN MEMORIAM" + + + The record of a faith sublime, + And hope, through clouds, far-off discerned; + The incense of a love that burned + Through pain and doubt defying Time: + + The story of a soul at strife + That learned at last to kiss the rod, + And passed through sorrow up to God, + From living to a higher life: + + A light that gleams across the wave + Of darkness, down the rolling years, + Piercing the heavy mist of tears-- + A rainbow shining o'er a grave. + + + +VICTOR HUGO + +1802-1902 + + + Heart of France for a hundred years, + Passionate, sensitive, proud, and strong, + Quick to throb with her hopes and fears, + Fierce to flame with her sense of wrong! + You, who hailed with a morning song + Dream-light gilding a throne of old: + You, who turned when the dream grew cold, + Singing still, to the light that shone + Pure from Liberty's ancient throne, + Over the human throng! + You, who dared in the dark eclipse,-- + When the pygmy heir of a giant name + Dimmed the face of the land with shame,-- + Speak the truth with indignant lips, + Call him little whom men called great, + Scoff at him, scorn him, deny him, + Point to the blood on his robe of state, + Fling back his bribes and defy him! + + You, who fronted the waves of fate + As you faced the sea from your island home, + Exiled, yet with a soul elate, + Sending songs o'er the rolling foam, + Bidding the heart of man to wait + For the day when all should see + Floods of wrath from the frowning skies + Fall on an Empire founded in lies, + And France again be free! + You, who came in the Terrible Year + Swiftly back to your broken land, + Now to your heart a thousand times more dear,-- + Prayed for her, sung to her, fought for her, + Patiently, fervently wrought for her, + Till once again, + After the storm of fear and pain, + High in the heavens the star of France stood clear! + + You, who knew that a man must take + Good and ill with a steadfast soul, + Holding fast, while the billows roll + Over his head, to the things that make + Life worth living for great and small, + Honour and pity and truth, + The heart and the hope of youth, + And the good God over all! + You, to whom work was rest, + Dauntless Toiler of the Sea, + Following ever the joyful quest + Of beauty on the shores of old Romance, + Bard of the poor of France, + And warrior-priest of world-wide charity! + You who loved little children best + Of all the poets that ever sung, + Great heart, golden heart, + Old, and yet ever young, + Minstrel of liberty, + Lover of all free, winged things, + Now at last you are free,-- + Your soul has its wings! + Heart of France for a hundred years, + Floating far in the light that never fails you, + Over the turmoil of mortal hopes and fears + Victor, forever victor, the whole world hails you! + +March, 1902. + + + +LONGFELLOW + + + In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour and riches and + confusion, + Where there were many running to and fro, and shouting, and striving + together, + In the midst of the hurry and the troubled noise, I heard the voice of + one singing. + + "What are you doing there, O man, singing quietly amid all this tumult? + This is the time for new inventions, mighty shoutings, and blowings of + the trumpet." + But he answered, "I am only shepherding my sheep with music." + + So he went along his chosen way, keeping his little flock around him; + And he paused to listen, now and then, beside the antique fountains, + Where the faces of forgotten gods were refreshed with musically falling + waters; + + Or he sat for a while at the blacksmith's door, and heard the cling-clang + of the anvils; + Or he rested beneath old steeples full of bells, that showered their + chimes upon him; + Or he walked along the border of the sea, drinking in the long roar of + the billows; + + Or he sunned himself in the pine-scented shipyard, amid the tattoo of + the mallets; + Or he leaned on the rail of the bridge, letting his thoughts flow with + the whispering river; + He hearkened also to ancient tales, and made them young again with his + singing. + + Then a flaming arrow of death fell on his flock, and pierced the heart + of his dearest! + Silent the music now, as the shepherd entered the mystical temple of + sorrow: + Long he tarried in darkness there: but when he came out he was singing. + + And I saw the faces of men and women and children silently turning toward + him; + The youth setting out on the journey of life, and the old man waiting + beside the last mile-stone; + The toiler sweating beneath his load; and the happy mother rocking her + cradle; + + The lonely sailor on far-off seas; and the gray-minded scholar in his + book-room; + The mill-hand bound to a clacking machine; and the hunter in the forest; + And the solitary soul hiding friendless in the wilderness of the city; + + Many human faces, full of care and longing, were drawn irresistibly + toward him, + By the charm of something known to every heart, yet very strange and + lovely, + And at the sound of his singing wonderfully all their faces were + lightened. + + "Why do you listen, O you people, to this old and world-worn music? + This is not for you, in the splendour of a new age, in the democratic + triumph! + Listen to the clashing cymbals, the big drums, the brazen trumpets of + your poets." + + But the people made no answer, following in their hearts the simpler + music: + For it seemed to them, noise-weary, nothing could be better worth the + hearing + Than the melodies which brought sweet order into life's confusion. + + So the shepherd sang his way along, until he came unto a mountain: + And I know not surely whether the mountain was called Parnassus, + But he climbed it out of sight, and still I heard the voice of one + singing. + +January, 1907. + + + +THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH + + +I + +BIRTHDAY VERSES, 1906 + + Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days + Have brought another _Festa_ round to you, + You can't refuse a loving-cup of praise + From friends the fleeting years have bound to you. + + Here come your Marjorie Daw, your dear Bad Boy, + Prudence, and Judith the Bethulian, + And many more, to wish you birthday joy, + And sunny hours, and sky cerulean! + + Your children all, they hurry to your den, + With wreaths of honour they have won for you, + To merry-make your threescore years and ten. + You, old? Why, life has just begun for you! + + There's many a reader whom your silver songs + And crystal stories cheer in loneliness. + What though the newer writers come in throngs? + You're sure to keep your charm of only-ness. + + You do your work with careful, loving touch,-- + An artist to the very core of you,-- + You know the magic spell of "not-too-much": + We read,--and wish that there was more of you. + + And more there is: for while we love your books + Because their subtle skill is part of you; + We love _you_ better, for our friendship looks + Behind them to the human heart of you. + + +II + +MEMORIAL SONNET, 1908 + + This is the house where little Aldrich read + The early pages of Life's wonder-book + With boyish pleasure: in this ingle-nook + He watched the drift-wood fire of Fancy shed + Bright colour on the pictures blue and red: + Boy-like he skipped the longer words, and took + His happy way, with searching, dreamful look + Among the deeper things more simply said. + + Then, came his turn to write: and still the flame + Of Fancy played through all the tales he told, + And still he won the laurelled poet's fame + With simple words wrought into rhymes of gold. + Look, here's the face to which this house is frame,-- + A man too wise to let his heart grow old! + + + +EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN + +(Read at His Funeral, January 21, 1908) + + + Oh, quick to feel the lightest touch + Of beauty or of truth, + Rich in the thoughtfulness of age, + The hopefulness of youth, + The courage of the gentle heart, + The wisdom of the pure, + The strength of finely tempered souls + To labour and endure! + + The blue of springtime in your eyes + Was never quenched by pain; + And winter brought your head the crown + Of snow without a stain. + The poet's mind, the prince's heart, + You kept until the end, + Nor ever faltered in your work, + Nor ever failed a friend. + + You followed, through the quest of life, + The light that shines above + The tumult and the toil of men, + And shows us what to love. + Right loyal to the best you knew, + Reality or dream, + You ran the race, you fought the fight, + A follower of the Gleam. + + We lay upon your folded hands + The wreath of asphodel; + We speak above your peaceful face + The tender word _Farewell!_ + For well you fare, in God's good care, + Somewhere within the blue, + And know, to-day, your dearest dreams + Are true,--and true,--and true! + + + +TO JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY + +ON HIS "BOOK OF JOYOUS CHILDREN" + + + Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers; + Joyous children delight to play there; + Weary men find rest in its bowers, + Watching the lingering light of day there. + + Old-time tunes and young love-laughter + Ripple and run among the roses; + Memory's echoes, murmuring after, + Fill the dusk when the long day closes. + + Simple songs with a cadence olden-- + These you learned in the Forest of Arden: + Friendly flowers with hearts all golden-- + These you borrowed from Eden's garden. + + This is the reason why all men love you; + Truth to life is the finest art: + Other poets may soar above you-- + You keep close to the human heart. + +December, 1903. + + + +RICHARD WATSON GILDER + +IN MEMORIAM + + + Soul of a soldier in a poet's frame, + Heart of a hero in a body frail; + Thine was the courage clear that did not quail + Before the giant champions of shame + Who wrought dishonour to the city's name; + And thine the vision of the Holy Grail + Of Love, revealed through Music's lucid veil, + Filling thy life with heavenly song and flame. + + Pure was the light that lit thy glowing eye, + And strong the faith that held thy simple creed. + Ah, poet, patriot, friend, to serve our need + Thou leavest two great gifts that will not die: + Above the city's noise, thy lyric cry,-- + Amid the city's strife, thy noble deed. + +November, 1909. + + + +THE VALLEY OF VAIN VERSES + + + The grief that is but feigning, + And weeps melodious tears + Of delicate complaining + From self-indulgent years; + The mirth that is but madness, + And has no inward gladness + Beneath its laughter straining, + To capture thoughtless ears; + + The love that is but passion + Of amber-scented lust; + The doubt that is but fashion; + The faith that has no trust; + These Thamyris disperses, + In the Valley of Vain Verses + Below the Mount Parnassian,-- + And they crumble into dust. + + + + +MUSIC + + + +MUSIC + + +I + +PRELUDE + + +1 + + Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that wild night + When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight, + She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart, + Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn + Into a single cry, and thou wast born! + Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief; + Invisible enchantress of the heart; + Mistress of charms that bring relief + To sorrow, and to joy impart + A heavenly tone that keeps it undefined,-- + Thou art the child + Of Amor, and by right divine + A throne of love is thine, + Thou flower-folded, golden-girdled, star-crowned Queen, + Whose bridal beauty mortal eyes have never seen! + + +2 + + Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps, + While peace and joy lie hidden in its deeps, + Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll + In healing murmurs round the weary soul. + Ah, when wilt thou draw near, + Thou messenger of mercy robed in song? + My lonely heart has listened for thee long; + And now I seem to hear + Across the crowded market-place of life, + Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear + Above unmeaning noises and unruly strife. + In quiet cadence, sweet and slow, + Serenely pacing to and fro, + Thy far-off steps are magical and dear,-- + Ah, turn this way, come close and speak to me! + From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free, + And bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee. + + +II + +INVOCATION + + Where wilt thou lead me first? + In what still region + Of thy domain, + Whose provinces are legion, + Wilt thou restore me to myself again, + And quench my heart's long thirst? + I pray thee lay thy golden girdle down, + And put away thy starry crown: + For one dear restful hour + Assume a state more mild. + Clad only in thy blossom-broidered gown + That breathes familiar scent of many a flower, + Take the low path that leads through pastures green; + And though thou art a Queen, + Be Rosamund awhile, and in thy bower, + By tranquil love and simple joy beguiled, + Sing to my soul, as mother to her child. + + +III + +PLAY SONG + + O lead me by the hand, + And let my heart have rest, + And bring me back to childhood land, + To find again the long-lost band + Of playmates blithe and blest. + + Some quaint, old-fashioned air, + That all the children knew, + Shall run before us everywhere, + Like a little maid with flying hair, + To guide the merry crew. + + Along the garden ways + We chase the light-foot tune, + And in and out the flowery maze, + With eager haste and fond delays, + In pleasant paths of June. + + For us the fields are new, + For us the woods are rife + With fairy secrets, deep and true, + And heaven is but a tent of blue + Above the game of life. + + The world is far away: + The fever and the fret, + And all that makes the heart grow gray, + Is out of sight and far away, + Dear Music, while I hear thee play + That olden, golden roundelay, + "Remember and forget!" + + +IV + +SLEEP SONG + + Forget, forget! + The tide of life is turning; + The waves of light ebb slowly down the west: + Along the edge of dark some stars are burning + To guide thy spirit safely to an isle of rest. + A little rocking on the tranquil deep + Of song, to soothe thy yearning, + A little slumber and a little sleep, + And so, forget, forget! + + Forget, forget,-- + The day was long in pleasure; + Its echoes die away across the hill; + Now let thy heart beat time to their slow measure, + That swells, and sinks, and faints, and falls, till all is still. + Then, like a weary child that loves to keep + Locked in its arms some treasure, + Thy soul in calm content shall fall asleep, + And so forget, forget. + + Forget, forget,-- + And if thou hast been weeping, + Let go the thoughts that bind thee to thy grief: + Lie still, and watch the singing angels, reaping + The golden harvest of thy sorrow, sheaf by sheaf; + Or count thy joys like flocks of snow-white sheep + That one by one come creeping + Into the quiet fold, until thou sleep, + And so forget, forget! + + Forget, forget,-- + Thou art a child and knowest + So little of thy life! But music tells + The secret of the world through which thou goest + To work with morning song, to rest with evening bells: + Life is in tune with harmony so deep + That when the notes are lowest + Thou still canst lay thee down in peace and sleep, + For God will not forget. + + +V + +HUNTING SONG + + Out of the garden of playtime, out of the bower of rest, + Fain would I follow at daytime, music that calls to a quest. + Hark, how the galloping measure + Quickens the pulses of pleasure; + Gaily saluting the morn + With the long, clear note of the hunting-horn, + Echoing up from the valley, + Over the mountain side,-- + Rally, you hunters, rally, + Rally, and ride! + + Drink of the magical potion music has mixed with her wine, + Full of the madness of motion, joyful, exultant, divine! + Leave all your troubles behind you, + Ride where they never can find you, + Into the gladness of morn, + With the long, clear note of the hunting-horn, + Swiftly o'er hillock and hollow, + Sweeping along with the wind,-- + Follow, you hunters, follow, + Follow and find! + + What will you reach with your riding? What is the charm of the chase? + Just the delight and the striding swing of the jubilant pace. + Danger is sweet when you front her,-- + In at the death, every hunter! + Now on the breeze the mort is borne + In the long, clear note of the hunting-horn, + Winding merrily, over and over,-- + Come, come, come! + Home again, Ranger! home again, Rover! + Turn again, home! + + +VI + +DANCE-MUSIC + + +1 + + Now let the sleep-tune blend with the play-tune, + Weaving the mystical spell of the dance; + Lighten the deep tune, soften the gay tune, + Mingle a tempo that turns in a trance. + Half of it sighing, half of it smiling, + Smoothly it swings, with a triplicate beat; + Calling, replying, yearning, beguiling, + Wooing the heart and bewitching the feet. + Every drop of blood + Rises with the flood, + Rocking on the waves of the strain; + Youth and beauty glide + Turning with the tide-- + Music making one out of twain, + Bearing them away, and away, and away, + Like a tone and its terce-- + Till the chord dissolves, and the dancers stay, + And reverse. + + Violins leading, take up the measure, + Turn with the tune again,--clarinets clear + Answer their pleading,--harps full of pleasure + Sprinkle their silver like light on the mere. + Semiquaver notes, + Merry little motes, + Tangled in the haze + Of the lamp's golden rays, + Quiver everywhere + In the air, + Like a spray,-- + Till the fuller stream of the might of the tune, + Gliding like a dream in the light of the moon, + Bears them all away, and away, and away, + Floating in the trance of the dance. + + +2 + + Then begins a measure stately, + Languid, slow, serene; + All the dancers move sedately, + Stepping leisurely and straitly, + With a courtly mien; + Crossing hands and changing places, + Bowing low between, + While the minuet inlaces + Waving arms and woven paces,-- + Glittering damaskeen. + Where is she whose form is folden + In its royal sheen? + From our longing eyes withholden + By her mystic girdle golden, + Beauty sought but never seen, + Music walks the maze, a queen. + + +VII + +WAR-MUSIC + + Break off! Dance no more! + Danger is at the door. + Music is in arms. + To signal war's alarms. + + Hark, a sudden trumpet calling + Over the hill! + Why are you calling, trumpet, calling? + What is your will? + + Men, men, men! + Men who are ready to fight + For their country's life, and the right + Of a liberty-loving land to be + Free, free, free! + Free from a tyrant's chain, + Free from dishonor's stain, + Free to guard and maintain + All that her fathers fought for, + All that her sons have wrought for, + Resolute, brave, and free! + + Call again, trumpet, call again, + Call up the men! + + Do you hear the storm of cheers + Mingled with the women's tears + And the tramp, tramp, tramp of marching feet? + Do you hear the throbbing drum + As the hosts of battle come + Keeping time, time, time to its beat? + O Music give a song + To make their spirit strong + For the fury of the tempest they must meet. + + The hoarse roar + Of the monster guns; + And the sharp bark + Of the lesser guns; + The whine of the shells, + The rifles' clatter + Where the bullets patter, + The rattle, rattle, rattle + Of the mitrailleuse in battle, + And the yells + Of the men who charge through hells + Where the poison gas descends, + And the bursting shrapnel rends + Limb from limb + In the dim + Chaos and clamor of the strife + Where no man thinks of his life + But only of fighting through, + Blindly fighting through, through! + + 'Tis done + At last! + The victory won, + The dissonance of warfare past! + + O Music mourn the dead + Whose loyal blood was shed, + And sound the taps for every hero slain; + Then lead into the song + That made their spirit strong, + And tell the world they did not die in vain. + + Thank God we can see, in the glory of morn, + The invincible flag that our fathers defended; + And our hearts can repeat what the heroes have sworn, + That war shall not end till the war-lust is ended. + Then the bloodthirsty sword shall no longer be lord + Of the nations oppressed by the conqueror's horde, + But the banners of Liberty proudly shall wave + O'er the _world_ of the free and the lands of the brave. + +May, 1916. + + +VIII + +THE SYMPHONY + + Music, they do thee wrong who say thine art + Is only to enchant the sense. + For every timid motion of the heart, + And every passion too intense + To bear the chain of the imperfect word, + And every tremulous longing, stirred + By spirit winds that come we know not whence + And go we know not where, + And every inarticulate prayer + Beating about the depths of pain or bliss, + Like some bewildered bird + That seeks its nest but knows not where it is, + And every dream that haunts, with dim delight, + The drowsy hour between the day and night, + The wakeful hour between the night and day,-- + Imprisoned, waits for thee, + Impatient, yearns for thee, + The queen who comes to set the captive free! + Thou lendest wings to grief to fly away, + And wings to joy to reach a heavenly height; + And every dumb desire that storms within the breast + Thou leadest forth to sob or sing itself to rest. + + All these are thine, and therefore love is thine. + For love is joy and grief, + And trembling doubt, and certain-sure belief, + And fear, and hope, and longing unexpressed, + In pain most human, and in rapture brief + Almost divine. + Love would possess, yet deepens when denied; + And love would give, yet hungers to receive; + Love like a prince his triumph would achieve; + And like a miser in the dark his joys would hide. + Love is most bold, + He leads his dreams like armed men in line; + Yet when the siege is set, and he must speak, + Calling the fortress to resign + Its treasure, valiant love grows weak, + And hardly dares his purpose to unfold. + Less with his faltering lips than with his eyes + He claims the longed-for prize: + Love fain would tell it all, yet leaves the best untold. + But thou shalt speak for love. Yea, thou shalt teach + The mystery of measured tone, + The Pentecostal speech + That every listener heareth as his own. + For on thy head the cloven tongues of fire,-- + Diminished chords that quiver with desire, + And major chords that glow with perfect peace,-- + Have fallen from above; + And thou canst give release + In music to the burdened heart of love. + + Sound with the 'cellos' pleading, passionate strain + The yearning theme, and let the flute reply + In placid melody, while violins complain, + And sob, and sigh, + With muted string; + Then let the oboe half-reluctant sing + Of bliss that trembles on the verge of pain, + While 'cellos plead and plead again, + With throbbing notes delayed, that would impart + To every urgent tone the beating of the heart. + So runs the andante, making plain + The hopes and fears of love without a word. + Then comes the adagio, with a yielding theme + Through which the violas flow soft as in a dream, + While horns and mild bassoons are heard + In tender tune, that seems to float + Like an enchanted boat + Upon the downward-gliding stream, + Toward the allegro's wide, bright sea + Of dancing, glittering, blending tone, + Where every instrument is sounding free, + And harps like wedding-chimes are rung, and trumpets blown + Around the barque of love + That rides, with smiling skies above, + A royal galley, many-oared, + Into the happy harbour of the perfect chord. + + +IX + +IRIS + + Light to the eye and Music to the ear,-- + These are the builders of the bridge that springs + From earth's dim shore of half-remembered things + To reach the heavenly sphere + Where nothing silent is and nothing dark. + So when I see the rainbow's arc + Spanning the showery sky, far-off I hear + Music, and every colour sings: + And while the symphony builds up its round + Full sweep of architectural harmony + Above the tide of Time, far, far away I see + A bow of colour in the bow of sound. + Red as the dawn the trumpet rings; + Blue as the sky, the choir of strings + Darkens in double-bass to ocean's hue, + Rises in violins to noon-tide's blue, + With threads of quivering light shot through and through; + Green as the mantle that the summer flings + Around the world, the pastoral reeds in tune + Embroider melodies of May and June. + Purer than gold, + Yea, thrice-refined gold, + And richer than the treasures of the mine, + Floods of the human voice divine + Along the arch in choral song are rolled. + So bends the bow complete: + And radiant rapture flows + Across the bridge, so full, so strong, so sweet, + That the uplifted spirit hardly knows + Whether the Music-Light that glows + Within the arch of tones and colours seven, + Is sunset-peace of earth or sunrise-joy of Heaven. + + +X + +SEA AND SHORE + + Music, I yield to thee + As swimmer to the sea, + I give my spirit to the flood of song! + Bear me upon thy breast + In rapture and at rest, + Bathe me in pure delight and make me strong; + From strife and struggle bring release, + And draw the waves of passion into tides of peace. + + Remembered songs most dear + In living songs I hear, + While blending voices gently swing and sway, + In melodies of love, + Whose mighty currents move + With singing near and singing far away; + Sweet in the glow of morning light, + And sweeter still across the starlit gulf of night. + + Music, in thee we float, + And lose the lonely note + Of self in thy celestial-ordered strain, + Until at last we find + The life to love resigned + In harmony of joy restored again; + And songs that cheered our mortal days + Break on the shore of light in endless hymns of praise. + +December, 1901--May, 1903--May, 1916. + + + +MASTER OF MUSIC + +(In memory of Theodore Thomas, 1905) + + + Glory architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard, + Living forever in temple and picture and statue and song,-- + Look how the world with the lights that they lit is illumined and + starred; + Brief was the flame of their life, but the lamps of their art burn + long! + + Where is the Master of Music, and how has he vanished away? + Where is the work that he wrought with his wonderful art in the air? + Gone,--it is gone like the glow on the cloud at the close of the day! + The Master has finished his work and the glory of music is--where? + + Once, at the wave of his wand, all the billows of musical sound + Followed his will, as the sea was ruled by the prophet of old: + Now that his hand is relaxed, and his rod has dropped to the ground, + Silent and dark are the shores where the marvellous harmonies rolled! + + Nay, but not silent the hearts that were filled by that life-giving sea; + Deeper and purer forever the tides of their being will roll, + Grateful and joyful, O Master, because they have listened to thee; + The glory of music endures in the depths of the human soul. + + + +THE PIPES O' PAN + + + Great Nature had a million words, + In tongues of trees and songs of birds, + But none to breathe the heart of man, + Till Music filled the pipes o' Pan. + +1909. + + + +TO A YOUNG GIRL SINGING + + + Oh, what do you know of the song, my dear, + And how have you made it your own? + You have caught the turn of the melody clear, + And you give it again with a golden tone, + Till the wonder-word and the wedded note + Are flowing out of your beautiful throat + With a liquid charm for every ear: + And they talk of your art,--but for you alone + The song is a thing, unheard, unknown; + You only have learned it by rote. + + But when you have lived for awhile, my dear, + I think you will learn it anew! + For a joy will come, or a grief, or a fear, + That will alter the look of the world for you; + And the lyric you learned as a bit of art, + Will wake to life as a wonderful part + Of the love you feel so deep and true; + And the thrill of a laugh or the throb of a tear, + Will come with your song to all who hear; + For then you will know it by heart. + +April, 1911. + + + +THE OLD FLUTE + + + The time will come when I no more can play + This polished flute: the stops will not obey + My gnarled fingers; and the air it weaves + In modulations, like a vine with leaves + Climbing around the tower of song, will die + In rustling autumn rhythms, confused and dry. + My shortened breath no more will freely fill + This magic reed with melody at will; + My stiffened lips will try and try in vain + To wake the liquid, leaping, dancing strain; + The heavy notes will falter, wheeze, and faint, + Or mock my ear with shrillness of complaint. + + Then let me hang this faithful friend of mine + Upon the trunk of some old, sacred pine, + And sit beneath the green protecting boughs + To hear the viewless wind, that sings and soughs + Above me, play its wild, aerial lute, + And draw a ghost of music from my flute! + + So will I thank the gods; and most of all + The Delian Apollo, whom men call + The mighty master of immortal sound,-- + Lord of the billows in their chanting round, + Lord of the winds that fill the wood with sighs, + Lord of the echoes and their sweet replies, + Lord of the little people of the air + That sprinkle drops of music everywhere, + Lord of the sea of melody that laves + The universe with never silent waves,-- + Him will I thank that this brief breath of mine + Has caught one cadence of the song divine; + And these frail fingers learned to rise and fall + In time with that great tune which throbs thro' all; + And these poor lips have lent a lilt of joy + To songless men whom weary tasks employ! + My life has had its music, and my heart + In harmony has borne a little part, + And now I come with quiet, grateful breast + To Death's dim hall of silence and of rest. + +Freely rendered from the French of Auguste Angellier, 1911. + + + +THE FIRST BIRD O' SPRING + +TO OLIVE WHEELER + + + Winter on Mount Shasta, + April down below; + Golden hours of glowing sun, + Sudden showers of snow! + Under leafless thickets + Early wild-flowers cling; + But, oh, my dear, I'm fain to hear + The first bird o' Spring! + + Alders are in tassel, + Maples are in bud; + Waters of the blue McCloud + Shout in joyful flood; + Through the giant pine-trees + Flutters many a wing; + But, oh, my dear, I long to hear + The first bird o' Spring! + + Candle-light and fire-light + Mingle at "the Bend;" + 'Neath the roof of Bo-hai-pan + Light and shadow blend. + Sweeter than a wood-thrush + A maid begins to sing; + And, oh, my dear, I'm glad to hear + The first bird o' Spring! + +The Bend, California, April 29, 1913. + + + + +THE HOUSE OF RIMMON + +A DRAMA IN FOUR ACTS + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + +BENHADAD: King of Damascus. +REZON: High Priest of the House of Rimmon. +SABALLIDIN: A Noble. +HAZAEL } +IZDUBHAR } Courtiers. +RAKHAZ } +SHUMAKIM: The King's Fool. +ELISHA: Prophet of Israel. +NAAMAN: Captain of the Armies of Damascus. +RUAHMAH: A Captive Maid of Israel. +TSARPI: Wife to Naaman. +KHAMMA } +NUBTA } Attendants of Tsarpi. + +Soldiers, Servants, Citizens, etc., etc. + +SCENE: _Damascus and the Mountains of Samaria._ + +TIME: 850 _B. C._ + + + +ACT I + + +SCENE I + +_Night, in the garden of NAAMAN at Damascus. At the left the palace, + with softly gleaming lights and music coming from the open latticed + windows. The garden is full of oleanders, roses, pomegranates, + abundance of crimson flowers; the air is heavy with their fragrance: + a fountain at the right is plashing gently: behind it is an arbour + covered with vines. Near the centre of the garden stands a small, + hideous image of the god Rimmon. Beyond the arbour rises the lofty + square tower of the House of Rimmon, which casts a shadow from the + moon across the garden. The background is a wide, hilly landscape, + with the snow-clad summit of Mount Herman in the distance. Enter + by the palace door, the lady TSARPI, robed in red and gold, and + followed by her maids, KHAMMA and NUBTA. She remains on the + terrace: they go down into the garden, looking about, and + returning to her._ + +KHAMMA: + There's no one here; the garden is asleep. + +NUBTA: + The flowers are nodding, all the birds abed,-- + Nothing awake except the watchful stars! + +KHAMMA: + The stars are sentinels discreet and mute: + How many things they know and never tell! + +TSARPI: [Impatiently.] + Unlike the stars, how many things you tell + And do not know! When comes your master home? + +NUBTA: + Lady, his armour-bearer brought us word,-- + At moonset, not before. + +TSARPI: + He haunts the camp + And leaves me much alone; yet I can pass + The time of absence not unhappily, + If I but know the time of his return. + An hour of moonlight yet! Khamma, my mirror! + These curls are ill arranged, this veil too low,-- + So,--that is better, careless maids! Withdraw,-- + But bring me word if Naaman appears! + +KHAMMA: + Mistress, have no concern; for when we hear + The clatter of his horse along the street, + We'll run this way and lead your dancers down + With song and laughter,--you shall know in time. + + [Exeunt KHAMMA and NUBTA laughing, TSARPI descends + the steps.] + +TSARPI: + My guest is late; but he will surely come! + The man who burns to drain the cup of love, + The priest whose greed of glory never fails, + Both, both have need of me, and he will come. + And I,--what do I need? Why everything + That helps my beauty to a higher throne; + All that a priest can promise, all a man + Can give, and all a god bestow, I need: + This may a woman win, and this will I. + + [Enter REZON quietly from the shadow of the trees. + He stands behind TSARPI and listens, smiling, + to her last words. Then he drops his mantle of + leopard-skin, and lifts his high priest's rod of + bronze, shaped at one end like a star.] + +REZON: + Tsarpi! + +TSARPI: [Bowing low before him.] + The mistress of the house of Naaman + Salutes the master of the House of Rimmon. + +REZON: + Rimmon receives you with his star of peace, + For you were once a handmaid of his altar. + + [He lowers the star-point of the rod, which glows + for a moment with rosy light above her head.] + + And now the keeper of his temple asks + The welcome of the woman for the man. + +TSARPI: [Giving him her hand, but holding off his embrace.] + No more,--till I have heard what brings you here + By night, within the garden of the one + Who scorns you most and fears you least in all + Damascus. + +REZON: + Trust me, I repay his scorn + With double hatred,--Naaman, the man + Who stands against the nobles and the priests, + This powerful fool, this impious devotee + Of liberty, who loves the people more + Than he reveres the city's ancient god: + This frigid husband who sets you below + His dream of duty to a horde of slaves: + This man I hate, and I will humble him. + +TSARPI: + I think I hate him too. He stands apart + From me, ev'n while he holds me in his arms, + By something that I cannot understand. + He swears he loves his wife next to his honour! + Next? That's too low! I will be first or nothing. + +REZON: + With me you are the first, the absolute! + When you and I have triumphed you shall reign; + And you and I will bring this hero down. + +TSARPI: + But how? For he is strong. + +REZON: + By this, the hand + Of Tsarpi; and by this, the rod of Rimmon. + +TSARPI: + Your plan? + +REZON: + You know the host of Nineveh + Is marching now against us. Envoys come + To bid us yield before a hopeless war. + Our king is weak: the nobles, being rich, + Would purchase peace to make them richer still: + Only the people and the soldiers, led + By Naaman, would fight for liberty. + Blind fools! To-day the envoys came to me, + And talked with me in secret. Promises, + Great promises! For every noble house + That urges peace, a noble recompense: + The King, submissive, kept in royal state + And splendour: most of all, honour and wealth + Shall crown the House of Rimmon, and his priest,-- + Yea, and his priestess! For we two will rise + Upon the city's fall. The common folk + Shall suffer; Naaman shall sink with them + In wreck; but I shall rise, and you shall rise + Above me! You shall climb, through incense-smoke, + And days of pomp, and nights of revelry, + Unto the topmost room in Rimmon's tower, + The secret, lofty room, the couch of bliss, + And the divine embraces of the god. + +TSARPI: [Throwing out her arms in exultation.] + All, all I wish! What must I do for this? + +REZON: + Turn Naaman away from thoughts of war. + +TSARPI: + But if I fail? His will is proof against + The lure of kisses and the wile of tears. + +REZON: + Where woman fails, woman and priest succeed. + Before the King decides, he must consult + The oracle of Rimmon. This my hands + Prepare,--and you shall read the signs prepared + In words of fear to melt the brazen heart + Of Naaman. + +TSARPI: + But if it flame instead? + +REZON: + I know a way to quench that flame. The cup, + The parting cup your hand shall give to him! + What if the curse of Rimmon should infect + That sacred wine with poison, secretly + To work within his veins, week after week + Corrupting all the currents of his blood, + Dimming his eyes, wasting his flesh? What then? + Would he prevail in war? Would he come back + To glory, or to shame? What think you? + +TSARPI: + I?-- + I do not think; I only do my part. + But can the gods bless this? + +REZON: + The gods can bless + Whatever they decree; their will makes right; + And this is for the glory of the House + Of Rimmon,--and for thee, my queen. Come, come! + The night grows dark: we'll perfect our alliance. + + [REZON draws her with him, embracing her, through + the shadows of the garden. RUAHMAH, who has been + sleeping in the arbour, has been awakened during + the dialogue, and has been dimly visible in her + white dress, behind the vines. She parts them and + comes out, pushing back her long, dark hair from + her temples.] + +RUAHMAH: + What have I heard? O God, what shame is this + Plotted beneath Thy pure and silent stars! + Was it for this that I was brought away + A captive from the hills of Israel + To serve the heathen in a land of lies? + Ah, treacherous, shameful priest! Ah, shameless wife + Of one too noble to suspect thy guilt! + The very greatness of his generous heart + Betrays him to their hands. What can I do! + Nothing,--a slave,--hated and mocked by all + My fellow-slaves! O bitter prison-life! + I smother in this black, betraying air + Of lust and luxury; I faint beneath + The shadow of this House of Rimmon. God + Have mercy! Lead me out to Israel. + To Israel! + + [Music and laughter heard within the palace. The + doors fly open and a flood of men and women, + dancers, players, flushed with wine, dishevelled, + pour down the steps, KHAMMA and NUBTA with them. + They crown the image with roses and dance around + it. RUAHMAH is discovered crouching beside the + arbour. They drag her out beside the image.] + +NUBTA: + Look! Here's the Hebrew maid,-- + She's homesick; let us comfort her! + +KHAMMA: [They put their arms around her.] + Yes, dancing is the cure for homesickness. + We'll make her dance. + +RUAHMAH: [She slips away.] + I pray you, let me go! + I cannot dance, I do not know your measures. + +KHAMMA: + Then sing for us,--a song of Israel! + +RUAHMAH: + How can I sing the songs of Israel + In this strange country? O my heart would break! + +A SERVANT: + A stubborn and unfriendly maid! We'll whip her. + + [They circle around her, striking her with + rose-branches; she sinks to her knees, covering + her face with her bare arms, which bleed.] + +NUBTA: + Look, look! She kneels to Rimmon, she is tamed. + +RUAHMAH: [Springing up and lifting her arms.] + Nay, not to this dumb idol, but to Him + Who made Orion and the seven stars! + +ALL: + She raves,--she mocks at Rimmon! Punish her! + The fountain! Wash her blasphemy away! + + [They push her toward the fountain, laughing and + shouting. In the open door of the palace NAAMAN + appears, dressed in blue and silver, bareheaded + and unarmed. He comes to the top of the steps + and stands for a moment, astonished and angry.] + +NAAMAN: + Silence! What drunken rout is this? Begone, + Ye barking dogs and mewing cats! Out, all! + Poor child, what have they done to thee? + + [Exeunt all except RUAHMAH, who stands with her + face covered by her hands. NAAMAN comes to her, + laying his hand on her shoulder.] + +RUAHMAH: [Looking up in his face.] + Nothing, + My lord and master! They have harmed me not. + +NAAMAN: [Touching her arm.] + Dost call this nothing? + +RUAHMAH: + Since my lord is come! + +NAAMAN: + I do not know thy face,--who art thou, child? + +RUAHMAH: + The handmaid of thy wife. + +NAAMAN: + Whence comest thou? + Thy voice is like thy mistress, but thy looks + Have something foreign. Tell thy name, thy land. + +RUAHMAH: + Ruahmah is my name, a captive maid, + The daughter of a prince in Israel, + Where once, in olden days, I saw my lord + Ride through our highlands, when Samaria + Was allied with Damascus to defeat + Our common foe. + +NAAMAN: + And thou rememberest this? + +RUAHMAH: + As clear as yesterday! Master, I saw + Thee riding on a snow-white horse beside + Our king; and all we joyful little maids + Strewed boughs of palm along the victors' way, + For you had driven out the enemy, + Broken; and both our lands were friends and free. + +NAAMAN: [Sadly.] + Well, they are past, those noble days! The days + When nations would imperil all to keep + Their liberties, are only memories now. + The common cause is lost,--and thou art brought, + The captive of some mercenary raid, + Some skirmish of a gold-begotten war, + To serve within my house. Dost thou fare well? + +RUAHMAH: + Master, thou seest. + +NAAMAN: + Yes, I see! My child, + Why do they hate thee so? + +RUAHMAH: + I do not know, + Unless because I will not bow to Rimmon. + +NAAMAN: + Thou needest not. I fear he is a god + Who pities not his people, will not save. + My heart is sick with doubt of him. But thou + Shalt hold thy faith,--I care not what it is,-- + Worship thy god; but keep thy spirit free. + + [He takes the amulet from his neck and gives it to her.] + + Here, take this chain and wear it with my seal, + None shall molest the maid who carries this. + Thou hast found favour in thy master's eyes; + Hast thou no other gift to ask of me? + +RUAHMAH: [Earnestly.] + My lord, I do entreat thee not to go + To-morrow to the council. Seek the King + And speak with him in secret; but avoid + The audience-hall. + +NAAMAN: + Why, what is this? Thy wits + Are wandering. My honour is engaged + To speak for war, to lead in war against + The Assyrian Bull and save Damascus. + +RUAHMAH: [With confused earnestness.] + Then, lord, if thou must go, I pray thee speak,-- + I know not how,--but so that all must hear. + With magic of unanswerable words + Persuade thy foes. Yet watch,--beware,-- + +NAAMAN: + Of what? + +RUAHMAH: [Turning aside.] + I am entangled in my speech,--no light,-- + How shall I tell him? He will not believe. + O my dear lord, thine enemies are they + Of thine own house. I pray thee to beware,-- + Beware,--of Rimmon! + +NAAMAN: + Child, thy words are wild: + Thy troubles have bewildered all thy brain. + Go, now, and fret no more; but sleep, and dream + Of Israel! For thou shalt see thy home + Among the hills again. + +RUAHMAH: + Master, good-night. + And may thy slumber be as sweet and deep + As if thou camped at snowy Hermon's foot, + Amid the music of his waterfalls. + There friendly oak-trees bend their boughs above + The weary head, pillowed on earth's kind breast, + And unpolluted breezes lightly breathe + A song of sleep among the murmuring leaves. + There the big stars draw nearer, and the sun + Looks forth serene, undimmed by city's mirk + Or smoke of idol-temples, to behold + The waking wonder of the wide-spread world. + There life renews itself with every morn + In purest joy of living. May the Lord + Deliver thee, dear master, from the nets + Laid for thy feet, and lead thee out along + The open path, beneath the open sky! + + [Exit RUAHMAH: NAAMAN stands looking after her.] + + +SCENE II + +TIME: _The following morning_ + +_The audience-hall in BENHADAD'S palace. The sides of the hall are + lined with lofty columns: the back opens toward the city, with + descending steps: the House of Rimmon with its high tower is seen + in the background. The throne is at the right in front: opposite + is the royal door of entrance, guarded by four tall sentinels. + Enter at the rear between the columns, RAKHAZ, SABALLIDIN, HAZAEL, + IZDUBHAR._ + +IZDUBHAR: [An excited old man.] + The city is all in a turmoil. It boils like a pot of lentils. + The people are foaming and bubbling round and round like + beans in the pottage. + +HAZAEL: [A lean, crafty man.] + Fear is a hot fire. + +RAKHAZ: [A fat, pompous man.] + Well may they fear, for the Assyrians are not three days + distant. They are blazing along like a waterspout to + chop Damascus down like a pitcher of spilt milk. + +SABALLIDIN: [Young and frank.] + Cannot Naaman drive them back? + +RAKHAZ: [Puffing and blowing.] + Ho! Naaman? Where have you been living? Naaman is a broken + reed whose claws have been cut. Build no hopes on that + foundation, for it will run away and leave you all adrift + in the conflagration. + +SABALLIDIN: + He clatters like a windmill. What would he say, Hazael? + +HAZAEL: + Naaman can do nothing without the command of the King; and + the King fears to order the army to march without the + approval of the gods. The High Priest is against it. The + House of Rimmon is for peace with Asshur. + +RAKHAZ: + Yes, and all the nobles are for peace. We are the men whose + wisdom lights the rudder that upholds the chariot of state. + Would we be rich if we were not wise? Do we not know better + than the rabble what medicine will silence this fire that + threatens to drown us? + +IZDUBHAR: + But if the Assyrians come, we shall all perish; they will + despoil us all. + +HAZAEL: + Not us, my lord, only the common people. The envoys have + offered favourable terms to the priests, and the nobles, + and the King. No palace, no temple, shall be plundered. + Only the shops, and the markets, and the houses of the + multitude shall be given up to the Bull. He will eat + his supper from the pot of lentils, not from our golden + plate. + +RAKHAZ: + Yes, and all who speak for peace in the council shall be + enriched; our heads shall be crowned with seats of honour + in the procession of the Assyrian king. He needs wise + counsellors to help him guide the ship of empire onto the + solid rock of prosperity. You must be with us, my lords + Izdubhar and Saballidin, and let the stars of your wisdom + roar loudly for peace. + +IZDUBHAR: + He talks like a tablet read upside down,--a wild ass braying + in the wilderness. Yet there is policy in his words. + +SABALLIDIN: + I know not. Can a kingdom live without a people or an army? + If we let the Bull in to sup on the lentils, will he not + make his breakfast in our vineyards? + + [Enter other courtiers following SHUMAKIM, a hump-backed + jester, in blue, green and red, a wreath of poppies + around his neck and a flagon in his hand. He walks + unsteadily, and stutters in his speech.] + +HAZAEL: + Here is Shumakim, the King's fool, with his legs full of + last night's wine. + +SHUMAKIM: [Balancing himself in front of them and chuckling.] + Wrong, my lords, very wrong! This is not last night's wine, + but a draught the King's physician gave me this morning + for a cure. It sobers me amazingly! I know you all, + my lords: any fool would know you. You, master, are a + statesman; and you are a politician; and you are a patriot. + +RAKHAZ: + Am I a statesman? I felt something of the kind about me. + But what is a statesman? + +SHUMAKIM: + A politician that is stuffed with big words; a fat man in a + mask; one that plays a solemn tune on a sackbut full o' wind. + +HAZAEL: + And what is a politician? + +SHUMAKIM: + A statesman that has dropped his mask and cracked his sackbut. + Men trust him for what he is, and he never deceives them, + because he always lies. + +IZDUBHAR: + Why do you call me a patriot? + +SHUMAKIM: + Because you know what is good for you; you love your country + as you love your pelf. You feel for the common people,--as + the wolf feels for the sheep. + +SABALLIDIN: + And what am I? + +SHUMAKIM: + A fool, master, just a plain fool; and there is hope of thee + for that reason. Embrace me, brother, and taste this; but + not too much,--it will intoxicate thee with sobriety. + + [The hall has been slowly filling with courtiers and + soldiers; a crowd of people begin to come up the steps + at the rear, where they are halted by a chain guarded + by servants of the palace. A bell tolls; the royal door + is thrown open; the aged King totters across the hall + and takes his seat on the throne with the four tall + sentinels standing behind him. All bow down shading + their eyes with their hands.] + +BENHADAD: + The hour of royal audience is come. + I'll hear the envoys. Are my counsellors + At hand? Where are the priests of Rimmon's house? + + [Gongs sound. REZON comes in from the side, followed + by a procession of priests in black and yellow. The + courtiers bow; the King rises; REZON takes his stand + on the steps of the throne at the left of the King.] + +BENHADAD: + Where is my faithful servant Naaman, + The captain of my host? + + [Trumpets sound from the city. The crowd on the steps + divide; the chain is lowered; NAAMAN enters, followed + by six soldiers. He is dressed in chain-mail with a + silver helmet and a cloak of blue. He uncovers, and + kneels on the steps of the throne at the King's right.] + +NAAMAN: + My lord the King, + The bearer of thy sword is here. + +BENHADAD: [Giving NAAMAN his hand, and sitting down.] + Welcome, + My strong right arm that never me failed yet! + I am in doubt,--but stay thou close to me + While I decide this cause. Where are the envoys? + Let them appear and give their message. + + [Enter the Assyrian envoys; one in white and the other + in red; both with the golden Bull's head embroidered + on their robes. They come from the right, rear, bow + slightly before the throne, and take the centre of + the hall.] + +WHITE ENVOY: [Stepping forward.] + Greeting from Shalmaneser, Asshur's son, + Who rules the world from Nineveh, + Unto Benhadad, monarch in Damascus! + The conquering Bull has led his army forth; + The south has fallen before him, and the west + His feet have trodden; Hamath is laid waste; + He pauses at your gate, invincible,-- + To offer peace. The princes of your court, + The priests of Rimmon's house, and you, the King, + If you pay homage to your Overlord, + Shall rest secure, and flourish as our friends. + Assyria sends to you this gilded yoke; + Receive it as the sign of proffered peace. + + [He lays a yoke on the steps of the throne.] + +BENHADAD: + What of the city? Said your king no word + Of our Damascus, and the many folk + That do inhabit her and make her great? + What of the soldiers who have fought for us? + +WHITE ENVOY: + Of these my royal master did not speak. + +BENHADAD: + Strange silence! Must we give them up to him? + Is this the price at which he offers us + The yoke of peace? What if we do refuse? + +RED ENVOY: [Stepping forward.] + Then ruthless war! War to the uttermost. + No quarter, no compassion, no escape! + The Bull will gore and trample in his fury + Nobles and priests and king,--none shall be spared! + Before the throne we lay our second gift; + This bloody horn, the symbol of red war. + + [He lays a long bull's horn, stained with blood, on + the steps of the throne.] + +WHITE ENVOY: + Our message is delivered. We return + Unto our master. He will wait three days + To know your royal choice between his gifts. + Keep which you will and send the other back. + The red bull's horn your youngest page may bring; + But with the yoke, best send your mightiest army! + + [The ENVOYS retire, amid confused murmurs of the + people, the King silent, his head, sunken on his + breast.] + +BENHADAD: + Proud words, a bitter message, hard to endure! + We are not now that force which feared no foe: + Our old allies have left us. Can we face the Bull + Alone, and beat him back? Give me your counsel. + + [Many speak at once, confusedly.] + + What babblement is this? Were ye born at Babel? + Give me clear words and reasonable speech. + +RAKHAZ: [Pompously.] + O King, I am a reasonable man! + And there be some who call me very wise + And prudent; but of this I will not speak, + For I am also modest. Let me plead, + Persuade, and reason you to choose for peace. + This golden yoke may be a bitter draught, + But better far to fold it in our arms, + Than risk our cargoes in the savage horn + Of war. Shall we imperil all our wealth, + Our valuable lives? Nobles are few, + Rich men are rare, and wise men rarer still; + The precious jewels on the tree of life, + Wherein the common people are but bricks + And clay and rubble. Let the city go, + But save the corner-stones that float the ship! + Have I not spoken well? + +BENHADAD: [Shaking his head.] + Excellent well! + Most eloquent! But misty in the meaning. + +HAZAEL: [With cold decision.] + Then let me speak, O King, in plainer words! + The days of independent states are past: + The tide of empire sweeps across the earth; + Assyria rides it with resistless power + And thunders on to subjugate the world. + Oppose her, and we fight with Destiny; + Submit to her demands, and we shall ride + With her to victory. Therefore accept + The golden yoke, Assyria's gift of peace. + +NAAMAN: [Starting forward eagerly.] + There is no peace beneath a conqueror's yoke! + For every state that barters liberty + To win imperial favour, shall be drained + Of her best blood, henceforth, in endless wars + To make the empire greater. Here's the choice, + My King, we fight to keep our country free, + Or else we fight forevermore to help + Assyria bind the world as we are bound. + I am a soldier, and I know the hell + Of war! But I will gladly ride through hell + To save Damascus. Master, bid me ride! + Ten thousand chariots wait for your command; + And twenty thousand horsemen strain the leash + Of patience till you let them go; a throng + Of spearmen, archers, swordsmen, like the sea + Chafing against a dike, roar for the onset! + O master, let me launch your mighty host + Against the Bull,--we'll bring him to his knees! + + [Cries of "war!" from the soldiers and the people; + "peace!" from the courtiers and the priests. The + King rises, turning toward NAAMAN, and seems about + to speak. REZON lifts his rod.] + +REZON: + Shall not the gods decide when mortals doubt? + Rimmon is master of the city's fate; + We read his will, by our most ancient-faith, + In omens and in signs of mystery. + Must we not hearken to his high commands? + +BENHADAD: [Sinking back on the throne, submissively.] + I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House. + Consult the oracle. But who shall read? + +REZON: + Tsarpi, the wife of Naaman, who served + Within the temple in her maiden years, + Shall be the mouth-piece of the mighty god, + To-day's high-priestess. Bring the sacrifice! + + [Gongs and cymbals sound: enter priests carrying + an altar on which a lamb is bound. The altar is + placed in the centre of the hall. TSARPI follows + the priests, covered with a long transparent veil + of black, sown with gold stars; RUAHMAH, in white, + bears her train. TSARPI stands before the altar, + facing it, and lifts her right hand holding a + knife. RUAHMAH steps back, near the throne, her + hands crossed on her breast, her head bowed. The + priests close in around TSARPI and the altar. The + knife is seen to strike downward. Gongs and cymbals + sound: cries of "Rimmon, hear us!" The circle of + priests opens, and TSARPI turns slowly to face the + King.] + +TSARPI: [Monotonously.] + _Black is the blood of the victim, + Rimmon is unfavourable, + Asratu is unfavourable; + They will not war against Asshur, + They will make a league with the God of Nineveh. + Evil is in store for Damascus, + A strong enemy will lay waste the land. + Therefore make peace with the Bull; + Hearken to the voice of Rimmon._ + + [She turns again to the altar, and the priests close + in around her. REZON lifts his rod toward the tower + of the temple. A flash of lightning followed by + thunder; smoke rises from the altar; all except + NAAMAN and RUAHMAH cover their faces. The circle + of priests opens again, and TSARPI comes forward + slowly, chanting.] + + CHANT: + + _Hear the words of Rimmon! Thus your Maker speaketh: + I, the god of thunder, riding on the whirlwind, + I, the god of lightning leaping from the storm-cloud, + I will smite with vengeance him who dares defy me! + He who leads Damascus into war with Asshur, + Conquering or conquered, bears my curse upon him. + Surely shall my arrow strike his heart in secret, + Burn his flesh with fever, turn his blood to poison. + Brand him with corruption, drive him into darkness; + He shall surely perish by the doom of Rimmon._ + + [All are terrified and look toward NAAMAN, + shuddering. RUAHMAH alone seems not to heed the + curse, but stands with her eyes fixed on NAAMAN.] + +RUAHMAH: + Be not afraid! There is a greater God + Shall cover thee with His almighty wings: + Beneath his shield and buckler shalt thou trust. + +BENHADAD: + Repent, my son, thou must not brave this curse. + +NAAMAN: + My King, there is no curse as terrible + As that which lights a bosom-fire for him + Who gives away his honour, to prolong + A craven life whose every breath is shame! + If I betray the men who follow me, + The city that has put her trust in me, + What king can shield me from my own deep scorn + What god release me from that self-made hell? + The tender mercies of Assyria + I know; and they are cruel as creeping tigers. + Give up Damascus, and her streets will run + Rivers of innocent blood; the city's heart, + That mighty, labouring heart, wounded and crushed + Beneath the brutal hooves of the wild Bull, + Will cry against her captain, sitting safe + Among the nobles, in some pleasant place. + I shall be safe,--safe from the threatened wrath + Of unknown gods, but damned forever by + The men I know,--that is the curse I fear. + +BENHADAD: + Speak not so high, my son. Must we not bow + Our heads before the sovereignties of heaven? + The unseen rulers are Divine. + +NAAMAN: + O King, + I am unlearned in the lore of priests; + Yet well I know that there are hidden powers + About us, working mortal weal and woe + Beyond the force of mortals to control. + And if these powers appear in love and truth, + I think they must be gods, and worship them. + But if their secret will is manifest + In blind decrees of sheer omnipotence, + That punish where no fault is found, and smite + The poor with undeserved calamity, + And pierce the undefended in the dark + With arrows of injustice, and foredoom + The innocent to burn in endless pain, + I will not call this fierce almightiness + Divine. Though I must bear, with every man, + The burden of my life ordained, I'll keep + My soul unterrified, and tread the path + Of truth and honour with a steady heart! + Have ye not heard, my lords? The oracle + Proclaims to me, to me alone, the doom + Of vengeance if I lead the army out. + "Conquered or conquering!" I grip that chance! + Damascus free, her foes all beaten back, + The people saved from slavery, the King + Upheld in honour on his ancient throne,-- + O what's the cost of this? I'll gladly pay + Whatever gods there be, whatever price + They ask for this one victory. Give me + This gilded sign of shame to carry back; + I'll shake it in the face of Asshur's king, + And break it on his teeth. + +BENHADAD: [Rising.] + Then go, my never-beaten captain, go! + And may the powers that hear thy solemn vow + Forgive thy rashness for Damascus' sake, + Prosper thy fighting, and remit thy pledge. + +REZON: [Standing beside the altar.] + The pledge, O King, this man must seal his pledge + At Rimmon's altar. He must take the cup + Of soldier-sacrament, and bind himself + By thrice-performed libation to abide + The fate he has invoked. + +NAAMAN: [Slowly.] + And so I will. + + [He comes down the steps, toward the altar, where + REZON is filling the cup which TSARPI holds. + RUAHMAH throws herself before NAAMAN, clasping + his knees.] + +RUAHMAH: [Passionately and wildly.] + My lord, I do beseech you, stay! There's death + Within that cup. It is an offering + To devils. See, the wine blazes like fire, + It flows like blood, it is a cursed cup, + Fulfilled of treachery and hate. + Dear master, noble master, touch it not! + +NAAMAN: + Poor maid, thy brain is still distraught. Fear not, + But let me go! Here, treat her tenderly! + + [Gives her into the hands of SABALLIDIN.] + + Can harm befall me from the wife who bears + My name? I take the cup of fate from her. + I greet the unknown powers; [Pours libation.] + I will perform my vow; [Again.] + I will abide my fate; [Again.] + I pledge my life to keep Damascus free. + + [He drains the cup, and lets it fall.] + +_CURTAIN._ + + + +ACT II + + +TIME: _A week later_ + +_The fore-court of the House of Rimmon. At the back the broad + steps and double doors of the shrine; above them the tower of + the god, its summit invisible. Enter various groups of citizens, + talking, laughing, shouting: RAKHAZ, HAZAEL, SHUMAKIM and others._ + +FIRST CITIZEN: + Great news, glorious news, the Assyrians are beaten! + +SECOND CITIZEN: + Naaman is returning, crowned with victory. Glory to our noble + captain! + +THIRD CITIZEN: + No, he is killed. I had it from one of the camp-followers who + saw him fall at the head of the battle. They are bringing + his body to bury it with honour. O sorrowful victory! + +RAKHAZ: + Peace, my good fellows, you are ignorant, you have not been + rightly informed, I will misinform you. The accounts of + Naaman's death are overdrawn. He was killed, but his life + has been preserved. One of his wounds was mortal, but the + other three were curable, and by these the physicians have + saved him. + +SHUMAKIM: [Balancing himself before RAKHAZ in pretended admiration.] + O wonderful! Most admirable logic! One mortal, and three + curable, therefore he must recover as it were, by three + to one. Rakhaz, do you know that you are a marvelous man? + +RAKHAZ: + Yes, I know it, but I make no boast of my knowledge. + +SHUMAKIM: + Too modest, for in knowing this you know more than any other + in Damascus! + + [Enter, from the right, SABALLIDIN in armour: from + the left, TSARPI with her attendants, among whom + is RUAHMAH.] + +HAZAEL: + Here is Saballidin, we'll question him; + He was enflamed by Naaman's wild words, + And rode with him to battle. Give us news, + Of your great captain! Is he safe and well? + When will he come? Or will he come at all? + + [All gather around him listening eagerly.] + +SABALLIDIN: + He comes but now, returning from the field + Where he hath gained a crown of deathless fame! + Three times he led the charge; three times he fell + Wounded, and the Assyrians beat us back. + Yet every wound was but a spur to urge + His valour onward. In the last attack + He rode before us as the crested wave + That leads the flood; and lo, our enemies + Were broken like a dam of river-reeds. + The flying King encircled by his guard + Was lodged like driftwood on a little hill. + Then Naaman, who led our foremost band + Of whirlwind riders, hammered through the hedge + Of spearmen, brandishing the golden yoke. + "Take back this gift," he cried; and shattered it + On Shalmaneser's helmet. So the fight + Dissolved in universal rout; the King, + His chariots and his horsemen fled away; + Our captain stood the master of the field, + And saviour of Damascus! Now he brings, + First to the King, report of this great triumph. + + [Shouts of joy and applause.] + +RUAHMAH: [Coming close to SABALLIDIN.] + But what of him who won it? Fares he well? + My mistress would receive some word of him. + +SABALLIDIN: + Hath she not heard? + +RUAHMAH: + But one brief message came: + A letter saying, "We have fought and conquered," + No word of his own person. Fares he well? + +SABALLIDIN: + Alas, most ill! For he is like a man + Consumed by some strange sickness: wasted, wan,-- + His eyes are dimmed so that he scarce can see; + His ears are dulled; his fearless face is pale + As one who walks to meet a certain doom + Yet will not flinch. It is most pitiful,-- + But you shall see. + +RUAHMAH: + Yea, we shall see a man + Who dared to face the wrath of evil powers + Unknown, and hazard all to save his country. + + [Enter BENHADAD with courtiers.] + +BENHADAD: + Where is my faithful servant Naaman, + The captain of my host? + +SABALLIDIN: + My lord, he comes. + + [Trumpet sounds. Enter company of soldiers in + armour. Then four soldiers bearing captured + standards of Asshur. NAAMAN follows, very pale, + armour dinted and stained; he is blind, and + guides himself by cords from the standards on + each side, but walks firmly. The doors of the + temple open slightly, and REZON appears at the + top of the steps. NAAMAN lets the cords fall, + and gropes his way for a few paces.] + +NAAMAN: [Kneeling.] + Where is my King? + Master, the bearer of thy sword returns. + The golden yoke thou gavest me I broke + On him who sent it. Asshur's Bull hath fled + Dehorned. The standards of his host are thine! + Damascus is all thine, at peace, and free! + +BENHADAD: [Holding out his arms.] + Thou art a mighty man of valour! Come, + And let me fold thy courage to my heart. + +REZON: [Lifting his rod.] + Forbear, O King! Stand back from him, all men! + By the great name of Rimmon I proclaim + This man a leper! See, upon his brow, + This little mark, the death-white seal of doom! + That tiny spot will spread, eating his flesh, + Gnawing his fingers bone from bone, until + The impious heart that dared defy the gods + Dissolves in the slow death which now begins. + Unclean! unclean! Henceforward he is dead: + No human hand shall touch him, and no home + Of men shall give him shelter. He shall walk + Only with corpses of the selfsame death + Down the long path to a forgotten tomb. + Avoid, depart, I do adjure you all, + Leave him to god,--the leper Naaman! + + [All shrink back horrified. REZON retires into the + temple; the crowd melts away, wailing; TSARPI is + among the first to go, followed by her attendants, + except RUAHMAH, who crouches, with her face + covered, not far from NAAMAN.] + +BENHADAD: [Lingering and turning back.] + Alas, my son! O Naaman, my son! + Why did I let thee go? I must obey. + Who can resist the gods? Yet none shall take + Thy glorious title, captain of my host! + I will provide for thee, and thou shalt dwell + With guards of honour in a house of mine + Always. Damascus never shall forget + What thou hast done! O miserable words + Of crowned impotence! O mockery of power + Given to kings who cannot even defend + Their dearest from the secret wrath of heaven! + O Naaman, my son, my son! [Exit.] + +NAAMAN: [Slowly passing his hand over his eyes, and looking up.] + Am I alone + With thee, inexorable one, whose pride + Offended takes this horrible revenge? + I must submit my mortal flesh to thee, + Almighty, but I will not call thee god! + Yet thou hast found the way to wound my soul + Most deeply through the flesh; and I must find + The way to let my wounded soul escape! + + [Drawing his sword.] + + Come, my last friend, thou art more merciful + Than Rimmon. Why should I endure the doom + He sends me? Irretrievably cut off + From all dear intercourse of human love, + From all the tender touch of human hands, + From all brave comradeship with brother-men, + With eyes that see no faces through this dark, + With ears that hear all voices far away, + Why should I cling to misery, and grope + My long, long way from pain to pain, alone? + +RUAHMAH: [At his feet.] + Nay, not alone, dear lord, for I am here; + And I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee! + +NAAMAN: + What voice is that? The silence of my tomb + Is broken by a ray of music,--whose? + +RUAHMAH: [Rising.] + The one who loves thee best in all the world. + +NAAMAN: + Why that should be,--O dare I dream it true? + Tsarpi, my wife? Have I misjudged thy heart + As cold and proud? How nobly thou forgivest! + Thou com'st to hold me from the last disgrace,-- + The coward's flight into the dark. Go back + Unstained, my sword! Life is endurable + While there is one alive on earth who loves us. + +RUAHMAH: + My lord,--my lord,--O listen! You have erred,-- + You do mistake me now,--this dream-- + +NAAMAN: + Ah, wake me not! For I can conquer death + Dreaming this dream. Let me at last believe, + Though gods are cruel, a woman can be kind. + Grant me but this! For see,--I ask so little,-- + Only to know that thou art faithful, + That thou art near me, though I touch thee not,-- + O this will hold me up, though it be given + From pity more than love. + +RUAHMAH: [Trembling, and speaking slowly.] + Not so, my lord! + My pity is a stream; my pride of thee + Is like the sea that doth engulf the stream; + My love for thee is like the sovereign moon + That rules the sea. The tides that fill my soul + Flow unto thee and follow after thee; + And where thou goest I will go; and where + Thou diest I will die,--in the same hour. + + [She lays her hand on his arm. He draws back.] + +NAAMAN: + O touch me not! Thou shalt not share my doom. + +RUAHMAH: + Entreat me not to go. I will obey + In all but this; but rob me not of this,-- + The only boon that makes life worth the living,-- + To walk beside thee day by day, and keep + Thy foot from stumbling; to prepare thy food + When thou art hungry, music for thy rest, + And cheerful words to comfort thy black hour; + And so to lead thee ever on, and on, + Through darkness, till we find the door of hope. + +NAAMAN: + What word is that? The leper has no hope. + +RUAHMAH: + Dear lord, the mark upon thy brow is yet + No broader than my little finger-nail. + Thy force is not abated, and thy step + Is firm. Wilt thou surrender to the enemy + Before thy strength is touched? Why, let me put + A drop of courage from my breast in thine! + There is a hope for thee. The captive maid + Of Israel who dwelt within thy house + Knew of a god very compassionate, + Long-suffering, slow to anger, one who heals + The sick, hath pity on the fatherless, + And saves the poor and him who has no helper. + His prophet dwells nigh to Samaria; + And I have heard that he hath brought the dead + To life again. We'll go to him. The King, + If I beseech him, will appoint a guard + Of thine own soldiers and Saballidin, + Thy friend, to convoy us upon our journey. + He'll give us royal letters to the King + Of Israel to make our welcome sure; + And we will take the open road, beneath + The open sky, to-morrow, and go on + Together till we find the door of hope. + Come, come with me! + + [She grasps his hand.] + +NAAMAN: [Drawing back.] + Thou must not touch me! + +RUAHMAH: [Unclasping her girdle and putting the end in his hand.] + Take my girdle, then! + +NAAMAN: [Kissing the clasp of the girdle.] + I do begin to think there is a God, + Since love on earth can work such miracles: + +_CURTAIN._ + + + +ACT III + + +TIME: _A month later: dawn_ + + +SCENE I + +_NAAMAN'S tent, on high ground among the mountains near Samaria: + the city below. In the distance, a wide and splendid landscape. + SABALLIDIN and soldiers on guard below the tent. Enter RUAHMAH + in hunter's dress, with a lute slung from her shoulder._ + +RUAHMAH: + Peace and good health to you, Saballidin. + Good morrow to you all. How fares my lord? + +SABALLIDIN: + The curtains of his tent are folded still: + They have not moved since we returned, last night, + And told him what befell us in the city. + +RUAHMAH: + Told him! Why did you make report to him + And not to me? Am I not captain here, + Intrusted by the King's command with care + Of Naaman until he is restored? + 'Tis mine to know the first of good or ill + In this adventure: mine to shield his heart + From every arrow of adversity. + What have you told him? Speak! + +SABALLIDIN: + Lady, we feared + To bring our news to you. For when the King + Of Israel had read our monarch's letter, + He rent his clothes, and cried, "Am I a god, + To kill and make alive, that I should heal + A leper? Ye have come with false pretence, + Damascus seeks a quarrel with me. Go!" + But when we told our lord, he closed his tent, + And there remains enfolded in his grief. + I trust he sleeps; 'twere kind to let him sleep! + For now he doth forget his misery, + And all the burden of his hopeless woe + Is lifted from him by the gentle hand + Of slumber. Oh, to those bereft of hope + Sleep is the only blessing left,--the last + Asylum of the weary, the one sign + Of pity from impenetrable heaven. + Waking is strife; sleep is the truce of God! + Ah, lady, wake him not. The day will be + Full long for him to suffer, and for us + To turn our disappointed faces home + On the long road by which we must return. + +RUAHMAH: + Return! Who gave you that command? Not I! + The King made me the leader of this quest, + And bound you all to follow me, because + He knew I never would return without + The thing for which he sent us. I'll go on + Day after day, unto the uttermost parts + Of earth, if need be, and beyond the gates + Of morning, till I find that which I seek,-- + New life for Naaman. Are ye ashamed + To have a woman lead you? Then go back + And tell the King, "This huntress went too far + For us to follow: she pursues the trail + Of hope alone, refusing to forsake + The quarry: we grew weary of the chase; + And so we left her and retraced our steps, + Like faithless hounds, to sleep beside the fire." + Did Naaman forsake his soldiers thus + When you went forth to hunt the Assyrian Bull? + Your manly courage is less durable + Than woman's love, it seems. Go, if you will,-- + Who bids me now farewell? + +SOLDIERS: + Not I, not I! + +SABALLIDIN: + Lady, lead on, we'll follow you forever! + +RUAHMAH: + Why, now you speak like men! Brought you no word + Out of Samaria, except that cry + Of impotence and fear from Israel's King? + +SABALLIDIN: + I do remember while he spoke with us + A rustic messenger came in, and cried + "Elisha saith, bring Naaman to me + At Dothan, he shall surely know there is + A God in Israel." + +RUAHMAH: + What said the King? + +SABALLIDIN: + He only shouted "Go!" more wildly yet, + And rent his clothes again, as if he were + Half-maddened by a coward's fear, and thought + Only of how he might be rid of us. + What comfort could there be for him, what hope + For us, in the rude prophet's misty word? + +RUAHMAH: + It is the very word for which I prayed! + My trust was not in princes; for the crown, + The sceptre, and the purple robe are not + Significant of vital power. The man + Who saves his brother-men is he who lives + His life with Nature, takes deep hold on truth, + And trusts in God. A prophet's word is more + Than all the kings on earth can speak. How far + Is Dothan? + +SOLDIER: + Lady, 'tis but three hours' ride + Along the valley southward. + +RUAHMAH: + Near! so near? + I had not thought to end my task so soon! + Prepare yourselves with speed to take the road. + I will awake my lord. + + [Exeunt all but SABALLIDIN and RUAHMAH. She goes + toward the tent.] + +SABALLIDIN: + Ruahmah, stay! [She turns back.] + I've been your servant in this doubtful quest, + Obedient, faithful, loyal to your will,-- + What have I earned by this? + +RUAHMAH: + The gratitude + Of him we both desire to serve: your friend,-- + My master and my lord. + +SABALLIDIN: + No more than this? + +RUAHMAH: + Yes, if you will, take all the thanks my hands + Can hold, my lips can speak. + +SABALLIDIN: + I would have more. + +RUAHMAH: + My friend, there's nothing more to give to you. + My service to my lord is absolute. + There's not a drop of blood within my veins + But quickens at the very thought of him; + And not a dream of mine but he doth stand + Within its heart and make it bright. No man + To me is other than his friend or foe. + You are his friend, and I believe you true! + +SABALLIDIN: + I have been true to him,--now, I am true + To you. + +RUAHMAH: + Why, then, be doubly true to him. + O let us match our loyalties, and strive + Between us who shall win the higher crown! + Men boast them of a friendship stronger far + Than love of woman. Prove it! I'll not boast, + But I'll contend with you on equal terms + In this brave race: and if you win the prize + I'll hold you next to him: and if I win + He'll hold you next to me; and either way + We'll not be far apart. Do you accept + My challenge? + +SABALLIDIN: + Yes! For you enforce my heart + By honour to resign its great desire, + And love itself to offer sacrifice + Of all disloyal dreams on its own altar. + Yet love remains; therefore I pray you, think + How surely you must lose in our contention. + For I am known to Naaman: but you + He blindly takes for Tsarpi. 'Tis to her + He gives his gratitude: the praise you win + Endears her name. + +RUAHMAH: + Her name? Why, what is that? + A name is but an empty shell, a mask + That does not change the features of the face + Beneath it. Can a name rejoice, or weep, + Or hope? Can it be moved by tenderness + To daily services of love, or feel the warmth + Of dear companionship? How many things + We call by names that have no meaning! Kings + That cannot rule; and gods that are not good; + And wives that do not love! It matters not + What syllables he utters when he calls, + 'Tis I who come,--'tis I who minister + Unto my lord, and mine the living heart + That feels the comfort of his confidence, + The thrill of gladness when he speaks to me,-- + I do not hear the name! + +SABALLIDIN: + And yet, be sure + There's danger in this error,--and no gain! + +RUAHMAH: + I seek no gain: I only tread the path + Marked for me daily by the hand of love. + And if his blindness spared my lord one pang + Of sorrow in his black, forsaken hour,-- + And if this error makes his burdened heart + More quiet, and his shadowed way less dark, + Whom do I rob? Not her who chose to stay + At ease in Rimmon's House! Surely not him! + Only myself! And that enriches me. + Why trouble we the master? Let it go,-- + To-morrow he must know the truth,--and then + He shall dispose of me e'en as he will! + +SABALLIDIN: + To-morrow? + +RUAHMAH: + Yes, for I will tarry here, + While you conduct him to Elisha's house + To find the promised healing. I forebode + A sudden danger from the craven King + Of Israel, or else a secret ambush + From those who hate us in Damascus. Go, + But leave me twenty men: this mountain-pass + Protects the road behind you. Make my lord + Obey the prophet's word, whatever he commands, + And come again in peace. Farewell! + + [Exit SABALLIDIN. RUAHMAH goes toward the tent, then + pauses and turns back. She takes her lute and sings.] + + SONG + + _Above the edge of dark appear the lances of the sun; + Along the mountain-ridges clear his rosy heralds run; + The vapours down the valley go + Like broken armies, dark and low. + Look up, my heart, from every hill + In folds of rose and daffodil + The sunrise banners flow._ + + _O fly away on silent wing, ye boding owls of night! + O welcome little birds that sing the coming-in of light! + For new, and new, and ever-new, + The golden bud within the blue; + And every morning seems to say: + "There's something happy on the way, + And God sends love to you!"_ + +NAAMAN: [Appearing at the entrance of his tent.] + O let me ever wake to music! For the soul + Returns most gently then, and finds its way + By the soft, winding clue of melody, + Out of the dusky labyrinth of sleep, + Into the light. My body feels the sun + Though I behold naught that his rays reveal. + Come, thou who art my daydawn and my sight, + Sweet eyes, come close, and make the sunrise mine! + +RUAHMAH: [Coming near.] + A fairer day, dear lord, was never born + In Paradise! The sapphire cup of heaven + Is filled with golden wine: the earth, adorned + With jewel-drops of dew, unveils her face + A joyful bride, in welcome to her king. + And look! He leaps upon the Eastern hills + All ruddy fire, and claims her with a kiss. + Yonder the snowy peaks of Hermon float + Unmoving as a wind-dropt cloud. The gulf + Of Jordan, filled with violet haze, conceals + The river's winding trail with wreaths of mist. + Below us, marble-crowned Samaria thrones + Upon her emerald hill amid the Vale + Of Barley, while the plains to northward change + Their colour like the shimmering necks of doves. + The lark springs up, with morning on her wings, + To climb her singing stairway in the blue, + And all the fields are sprinkled with her joy! + +NAAMAN: + Thy voice is magical: thy words are visions! + I must content myself with them, for now + My only hope is lost: Samaria's King + Rejects our monarch's message,--hast thou heard? + "Am I a god that I should cure a leper?" + He sends me home unhealed, with angry words, + Back to Damascus and the lingering death. + +RUAHMAH: + What matter where he sends? No god is he + To slay or make alive. Elisha bids + You come to him at Dothan, there to learn + There is a God in Israel. + +NAAMAN: + I fear + That I am grown mistrustful of all gods; + Their secret counsels are implacable. + +RUAHMAH: + Fear not! There's One who rules in righteousness + High over all. + +NAAMAN: + What knowest thou of Him? + +RUAHMAH: + Oh, I have heard,--the maid of Israel,-- + Rememberest thou? She often said her God + Was merciful and kind, and slow to wrath, + And plenteous in forgiveness, pitying us + Like as a father pitieth his children. + +NAAMAN: + If there were such a God, I'd worship Him + Forever! + +RUAHMAH: + Then make haste to hear the word + His prophet promises to speak to thee! + Obey it, my dear lord, and thou shalt find + Healing and peace. The light shall fill thine eyes. + Thou wilt not need my leading any more,-- + Nor me,--for thou wilt see me, all unveiled,-- + I tremble at the thought. + +NAAMAN: + Why, what is this? + Why shouldst thou tremble? Art thou not mine own? + +RUAHMAH: [Turning to him and speaking in broken words.] + I am,--thy handmaid,--all and only thine,-- + The very pulses of my heart are thine! + Feel how they throb to comfort thee to-day-- + To-day! Because it is thy time of trouble. + + [She takes his hand and puts it to her forehead and + her lips, but before she can lay it upon her heart, + he draws away from her.] + +NAAMAN: + Thou art too dear to injure with a kiss,-- + How should I take a gift may bankrupt thee, + Or drain the fragrant chalice of thy love + With lips that may be fatal? Tempt me not + To sweet dishonour; strengthen me to wait + Until thy prophecy is all fulfilled, + And I can claim thee with a joyful heart. + +RUAHMAH: [Turning away.] + Thou wilt not need me then,--and I shall be + No more than the faint echo of a song + Heard half asleep. We shall go back to where + We stood before this journey. + +NAAMAN: + Never again! + For thou art changed by some deep miracle. + The flower of womanhood hath bloomed in thee,-- + Art thou not changed? + +RUAHMAH: + Yea, I am changed,--and changed + Again,--bewildered,--till there's nothing clear + To me but this: I am the instrument + In an Almighty hand to rescue thee + From death. This will I do,--and afterward-- + + [A trumpet is blown without.] + + Hearken, the trumpet sounds, the chariot waits. + Away, dear lord, follow the road to light! + + +SCENE II [3] + +_The house of Elisha, upon a terraced hillside. A low stone + cottage with vine-trellises and flowers; a flight of steps, + at the foot of which is NAAMAN'S chariot. He is standing in + it; SABALLIDIN beside it. Two soldiers come down the steps._ + +FIRST SOLDIER: + We have delivered my lord's greeting and his message. + +SECOND SOLDIER: + Yes, and near lost our noses in the doing of it! For + the servant slammed the door in our faces. A most + unmannerly reception! + +FIRST SOLDIER: + But I take that as a good omen. It is a mark of holy + men to keep ill-conditioned servants. Look, the + door opens, the prophet is coming. + +SECOND SOLDIER: + No, by my head, it is that notable mark of his master's + holiness, that same lantern-jawed lout of a servant. + + [GEHAZI loiters down the steps and comes to NAAMAN + with a slight obeisance.] + +GEHAZI: + My master, the prophet of Israel, sends word to Naaman + the Syrian,--are you he?---"Go wash in Jordan seven + times and be healed." + + [GEHAZI turns and goes slowly up the steps.] + +NAAMAN: + What insolence is this? Am I a man + To be put off with surly messengers? + Has not Damascus rivers more renowned + Than this rude muddy Jordan? Crystal streams, + Abana! Pharpar! flowing smoothly through + A paradise of roses? Might I not + Have bathed in them and been restored at ease? + Come up, Saballidin, and guide me home! + +SABALLIDIN: + Bethink thee, master, shall we lose our quest + Because a servant is uncouth? The road + That seeks the mountain leads us through the vale. + The prophet's word is friendly after all; + For had it been some mighty task he set, + Thou wouldst perform it. How much rather then + This easy one? Hast thou not promised her + Who waits for thy return? Wilt thou go back + To her unhealed? + +NAAMAN: + No! not for all my pride! + I'll make myself most humble for her sake, + And stoop to anything that gives me hope + Of having her. Make haste, Saballidin, + Bring me to Jordan. I will cast myself + Into that river's turbulent embrace + A hundred times, until I save my life + Or lose it! + + [Exeunt. The light fades: musical interlude. + The light increases again with ruddy sunset + shining on the door of ELISHA'S house. The + prophet appears and looks off, shading his + eyes with his hand as he descends the steps. + Trumpet blows,--NAAMAN'S call;--sound of + horses galloping and men shouting. NAAMAN + enters joyously, followed by SABALLIDIN and + soldiers, with gifts.] + +NAAMAN: + Behold a man delivered from the grave + By thee! I rose from Jordan's waves restored + To youth and vigour, as the eagle mounts + Upon the sunbeam and renews his strength! + O mighty prophet deign to take from me + These gifts too poor to speak my gratitude; + Silver and gold and jewels, damask robes,-- + +ELISHA: [Interrupting.] + As thy soul liveth I will not receive + A gift from thee, my son! Give all to Him + Whose mercy hath redeemed thee from thy plague. + +NAAMAN: + He is the only God! I worship Him! + Grant me a portion of the blessed soil + Of this most favoured land where I have found + His mercy; in Damascus will I build + An altar to His name, and praise Him there + Morning and night. There is no other God + In all the world. + +ELISHA: + Thou needst not + This load of earth to build a shrine for Him; + Yet take it if thou wilt. But be assured + God's altar is in every loyal heart, + And every flame of love that kindles there + Ascends to Him and brightens with His praise. + There is no other God! But evil Powers + Make war against Him in the darkened world; + And many temples have been built to them. + +NAAMAN: + I know them well! Yet when my master goes + To worship in the House of Rimmon, I + Must enter with him; for he trusts me, leans + Upon my hand; and when he bows himself + I cannot help but make obeisance too,-- + But not to Rimmon! To my country's King + I'll bow in love and honour. Will the Lord + Pardon thy servant in this thing? + +ELISHA: + My son, + Peace has been granted thee. 'Tis thine to find + The only way to keep it. Go in peace. + +NAAMAN: + Thou hast not answered me,--may I bow down? + +ELISHA: + The answer must be thine. The heart that knows + The perfect peace of gratitude and love, + Walks in the light and needs no other rule. + When next thou comest into Rimmon's House, + Thy heart will tell thee how to go in peace. + +_CURTAIN._ + +[3] Note that this scene is not intended to be put upon the stage, + the effect of the action upon the drama being given at the + beginning of Act IV. + + + +ACT IV + + +SCENE I + +_The interior of NAAMAN'S tent, at night. RUAHMAH alone, sleeping + on the ground. A vision appears to her through the curtains of the + tent: ELISHA standing on the hillside at Dothan: NAAMAN, restored + to sight, comes in and kneels before him. ELISHA blesses him, and + he goes out rejoicing. The vision of the prophet turns to RUAHMAH + and lifts his hand in warning._ + +ELISHA: + Daughter of Israel, what dost thou here? + Thy prayer is granted. Naaman is healed: + Mar not true service with a selfish thought. + Nothing remains for thee to do, except + Give thanks, and go whither the Lord commands. + Obey,--obey! Ere Naaman returns + Thou must depart to thine own house in Shechem. + + [The vision vanishes.] + +RUAHMAH: [Waking and rising slowly.] + A dream, a dream, a messenger of God! + O dear and dreadful vision, art thou true? + Then am I glad with all my broken heart. + Nothing remains,--nothing remains but this,-- + Give thanks, obey, depart,--and so I do. + Farewell, my master's sword! Farewell to you, + My amulet! I lay you on the hilt + His hand shall clasp again: bid him farewell + For me, since I must look upon his face + No more for ever!--Hark, what sound was that? + + [Enter soldier hurriedly.] + +SOLDIER: + Mistress, an armed troop, footmen and horse, + Mounting the hill! + +RUAHMAH: + My lord returns in triumph. + +SOLDIER: + Not so, for these are enemies; they march + In haste and silence, answering not our cries. + +RUAHMAH: + Our enemies? Then hold your ground,--on guard! + Fight! fight! Defend the pass, and drive them down. + + [Exit soldier. RUAHMAH draws NAAMAN'S sword from + the scabbard and hurries out of the tent. Confused + noise of fighting outside. Three or four soldiers + are driven in by a troop of men in disguise. + RUAHMAH follows: she is beaten to her knees, + and her sword is broken.] + +REZON: [Throwing aside the cloth which covers his face.] + Hold her! So, tiger-maid, we've found your lair + And trapped you. Where is Naaman, + Your master? + +RUAHMAH: [Rising, her arms held by two of REZON'S followers.] + He is far beyond your reach. + +REZON: + Brave captain! He has saved himself, the leper, + And left you here? + +RUAHMAH: + The leper is no more. + +REZON: + What mean you? + +RUAHMAH: + He has gone to meet his God. + +REZON: + Dead? Dead? Behold how Rimmon's wrath is swift! + Damascus shall be mine; I'll terrify + The King with this, and make my terms. But no! + False maid, you sweet-faced harlot, you have lied + To save him,--speak. + +RUAHMAH: + I am not what you say, + Nor have I lied, nor will I ever speak + A word to you, vile servant of a traitor-god. + +REZON: + Break off this little flute of blasphemy, + This ivory neck,--twist it, I say! + Give her a swift despatch after her leper! + But stay,--if he still lives he'll follow her, + And so we may ensnare him. Harm her not! + Bind her! Away with her to Rimmon's House! + Is all this carrion dead? There's one that moves,-- + A spear,--fasten him down! All quiet now? + Then back to our Damascus! Rimmon's face + Shall be made bright with sacrifice. + + [Exeunt, forcing RUAHMAH with them. Musical + interlude. A wounded soldier crawls from a + dark corner of the tent and finds the chain + with NAAMAN'S seal, which has fallen to the + ground in the struggle.] + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: + The signet of my lord, her amulet! + Lost, lost! Ah, noble lady,--let me die + With this upon my breast. + + [The tent is dark. Enter NAAMAN and his company + in haste, with torches.] + +NAAMAN: + What bloody work + Is here? God, let me live to punish him + Who wrought this horror! Treacherously slain + At night, by unknown hands, my brave companions: + Tsarpi, my best beloved, light of my soul, + Put out in darkness! O my broken lamp + Of life, where art thou? Nay, I cannot find her. + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: [Raising himself on his arm.] + Master! + +NAAMAN: [Kneels beside him.] + One living? Quick, a torch this way! + Lift up his head,--so,--carefully! + Courage, my friend, your captain is beside you. + Call back your soul and make report to him. + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: + Hail, captain! O my captain,--here! + +NAAMAN: + Be patient,--rest in peace,--the fight is done. + Nothing remains but render your account. + +WOUNDED SOLDIER: + They fell upon us suddenly,--we fought + Our fiercest,--every man,--our lady fought + Fiercer than all. They beat us down,--she's gone. + Rezon has carried her away a captive. See,-- + Her amulet,--I die for you, my captain. + +NAAMAN: [He gently lays the dead soldier on the ground, and rises.] + Farewell. This last report was brave; but strange + Beyond my thought! How came the High Priest here? + And what is this? my chain, my seal! But this + Has never been in Tsarpi's hand. I gave + This signet to a captive maid one night,-- + A maid of Israel. How long ago? + Ruahmah was her name,--almost forgotten! + So long ago,--how comes this token here? + What is this mystery, Saballidin? + +SABALLIDIN: + Ruahmah is her name who brought you hither. + +NAAMAN: + Where then is Tsarpi? + +SABALLIDIN: + In Damascus. + She left you when the curse of Rimmon fell,-- + Took refuge in his House,--and there she waits + Her lord's return,--Rezon's return. + +NAAMAN: + 'Tis false! + +SABALLIDIN: + The falsehood is in her. She hath been friend + With Rezon in his priestly plot to win + Assyria's favour,--friend to his design + To sell his country to enrich his temple,-- + And friend to him in more,--I will not name it. + +NAAMAN: + Nor will I credit it. Impossible! + +SABALLIDIN: + Did she not plead with you against the war, + Counsel surrender, seek to break your will? + +NAAMAN: + She did not love my work, a soldier's task. + She never seemed to be at one with me + Until I was a leper. + +SABALLIDIN: + From whose hand + Did you receive the sacred cup? + +NAAMAN: + From hers. + +SABALLIDIN: + And from that hour the curse began to work. + +NAAMAN: + But did she not have pity when she saw + Me smitten? Did she not beseech the King + For letters and a guard to make this journey? + Has she not been the fountain of my hope, + My comforter and my most faithful guide + In this adventure of the dark? All this + Is proof of perfect love that would have shared + A leper's doom rather than give me up. + Can I doubt her who dared to love like this? + +SABALLIDIN: + O master, doubt her not,--but know her name; + Ruahmah! It was she alone who wrought + This wondrous work of love. She won the King + To furnish forth this company. She led + Our march, kept us in heart, fought off despair, + Watched over you as if you were her child, + Prepared your food, your cup, with her own hands, + Sang you asleep at night, awake at dawn,-- + +NAAMAN: [Interrupting.] + Enough! I do remember every hour + Of that sweet comradeship! And now her voice + Wakens the echoes in my lonely breast. + Shall I not see her, thank her, speak her name? + Ruahmah! Let me live till I have looked + Into her eyes and called her my Ruahmah! + + [To his soldiers.] + + Away! away! I burn to take the road + That leads me back to Rimmon's House,-- + But not to bow,--by God, never to bow! + + +SCENE II + +TIME: _Three days later_ + +_Inner court of the House of Rimmon; a temple with huge pillars at + each side. In the right foreground the seat of the King; at the + left, of equal height, the seat of the High Priest. In the + background a broad flight of steps, rising to a curtain of cloudy + gray, embroidered with two gigantic hands holding thunderbolts. + The temple is in half darkness at first. Enter KHAMMA and NUBTA, + robed as Kharimati, or religious dancers, in gowns of black gauze + with yellow embroideries and mantles._ + +KHAMMA: + All is ready for the rites of worship; our lady will play + a great part in them. She has put on her Tyrian robes, + and all her ornaments. + +NUBTA: + That is a sure sign of a religious purpose. She is most + devout, our lady Tsarpi! + +KHAMMA: + A favourite of Rimmon, too! The High Priest has assured + her of it. He is a great man,--next to the King, now + that Naaman is gone. + +NUBTA: + But if Naaman should come back, healed of the leprosy? + +KHAMMA: + How can he come back? The Hebrew slave that went away + with him, when they caught her, said that he was dead. + The High Priest has shut her up in the prison of the + temple, accusing her of her master's death. + +NUBTA: + Yet I think he does not believe it, for I heard him telling + our mistress what to do if Naaman should return. + +KHAMMA: + What, then? + +NUBTA: + She will claim him as her husband. Was she not wedded to + him before the god? That is a sacred bond. Only the High + Priest can loose it. She will keep her hold on Naaman + for the sake of the House of Rimmon. A wife knows her + husband's secrets, she can tell-- + + [Enter SHUMAKIM, with his flagon, walking unsteadily.] + +KHAMMA: + Hush! here comes the fool Shumakim. He is never sober. + +SHUMAKIM: [Laughing.] + Are there two of you? I see two, but that is no proof. + I think there is only one, but beautiful enough for + two. What were you talking to yourself about, fairest + one! + +KHAMMA: + About the lady Tsarpi, fool, and what she would do if + her husband returned. + +SHUMAKIM: + Fie! fie! That is no talk for an innocent fool to hear. + Has she a husband? + +NUBTA: + You know very well that she is the wife of Lord Naaman. + +SHUMAKIM: + I remember that she used to wear his name and his jewels. + But I thought he had exchanged her,--for a leprosy. + +KHAMMA: + You must have heard that he went away to Samaria to look + for healing. Some say that he died on the journey; but + others say he has been cured, and is on his way home + to his wife. + +SHUMAKIM: + It may be, for this is a mad world, and men never know + when they are well off,--except us fools. But he must + come soon if he would find his wife as he parted from + her,--or the city where he left it. The Assyrians have + returned with a greater army, and this time they will + make an end of us. There is no Naaman now, and the Bull + will devour Damascus like a bunch of leeks, flowers and + all,--flowers and all, my double-budded fair one! Are + you not afraid? + +NUBTA: + We belong to the House of Rimmon. He will protect us. + +SHUMAKIM: + What? The mighty one who hides behind the curtain there, + and tells his secrets to Rezon? No doubt he will take + care of you, and of himself. Whatever game is played, + the gods never lose. But for the protection of the + common people and the rest of us fools, I would rather + have Naaman at the head of an army than all the sacred + images between here and Babylon. + +KHAMMA: + You are a wicked old man. You mock the god. He will + punish you. + +SHUMAKIM: [Bitterly.] + How can he punish me? Has he not already made me a fool? + Hark, here comes my brother the High Priest, and my + brother the King. Rimmon made us all; but nobody knows + who made Rimmon, except the High Priest; and he will + never tell. + +[Gongs and cymbals sound. Enter REZON with priests, and the + King with courtiers. They take their seats. A throng of Khali + and Kharimati come in, TSARPI presiding; a sacred dance is + performed with torches, burning incense, and chanting, in + which TSARPI leads.] + + CHANT + + _Hail, mighty Rimmon, ruler of the whirl-storm, + Hail, shaker of mountains, breaker-down of forests, + Hail, thou who roarest terribly in the darkness, + Hail, thou whose arrows flame across the heavens! + Hail, great destroyer, lord of flood and tempest, + In thine anger almighty, in thy wrath eternal, + Thou who delightest in ruin, maker of desolations, + Immeru, Addu, Berku, Rimmon! + See we tremble before thee, low we bow at thine altar, + Have mercy upon us, be favourable unto us, + Save us from our enemy, accept our sacrifice, + Barku, Immeru, Addu, Rimmon!_ + + [Silence follows, all bowing down.] + +REZON: + O King, last night the counsel from above + Was given in answer to our divination. + Ambassadors must go forthwith to crave + Assyria's pardon, and a second offer + Of the same terms of peace we did reject + Not long ago. + +BENHADAD: + Dishonour! Yet I see + No other way! Assyria will refuse, + Or make still harder terms. Disaster, shame + For this gray head, and ruin for Damascus! + +REZON: + Yet may we trust Rimmon will favour us, + If we adhere devoutly to his worship. + He will incline his brother-god, the Bull, + To spare us, if we supplicate him now + With costly gifts. Therefore I have prepared + A sacrifice: Rimmon shall be well pleased + With the red blood that bathes his knees to-night! + +BENHADAD: + My mind is dark with doubt,--I do forebode + Some horror! Let me go,--I am an old man,-- + If Naaman my captain were alive! + But he is dead,--the glory is departed! + + [He rises, trembling, to leave the throne. Trumpet + sounds,--NAAMAN'S call;--enter NAAMAN, followed + by soldiers; he kneels at the foot of the throne.] + +BENHADAD: [Half-whispering.] + Art thou a ghost escaped from Allatu? + How didst thou pass the seven doors of death? + O noble ghost I am afraid of thee, + And yet I love thee,--let me hear thy voice! + +NAAMAN: + No ghost, my King, but one who lives to serve + Thee and Damascus with his heart and sword + As in the former days. The only God + Has healed my leprosy: my life is clean + To offer to my country and my King. + +BENHADAD: [Starting toward him.] + O welcome to thy King! Thrice welcome! + +REZON: [Leaving his seat and coming toward NAAMAN.] + Stay! + The leper must appear before the priest, + The only one who can pronounce him clean. + + [NAAMAN turns; they stand looking each other in the face.] + + Yea,--thou art cleansed: Rimmon hath pardoned thee,-- + In answer to the daily prayers of her + Whom he restores to thine embrace,--thy wife. + + [TSARPI comes slowly toward NAAMAN.] + +NAAMAN: + From him who rules this House will I receive + Nothing! I seek no pardon from his priest, + No wife of mine among his votaries! + +TSARPI: [Holding out her hands.] + Am I not yours? Will you renounce our vows? + +NAAMAN: + The vows were empty,--never made you mine + In aught but name. A wife is one who shares + Her husband's thought, incorporates his heart + With hers by love, and crowns him with her trust. + She is God's remedy for loneliness, + And God's reward for all the toil of life. + This you have never been to me,--and so + I give you back again to Rimmon's House + Where you belong. Claim what you will of mine,-- + Not me! I do renounce you,--or release you,-- + According to the law. If you demand + A further cause than what I have declared, + I will unfold it fully to the King. + +REZON: [Interposing hurriedly.] + No need of that! This duteous lady yields + To your caprice as she has ever done: + She stands a monument of loyalty + And woman's meekness. + +NAAMAN: + Let her stand for that! + Adorn your temple with her piety! + But you in turn restore to me the treasure + You stole at midnight from my tent. + +REZON: + What treasure! I have stolen none from you. + +NAAMAN: + The very jewel of my soul,--Ruahmah! + My King, the captive maid of Israel, + To whom thou didst commit my broken life + With letters to Samaria,--my light, + My guide, my saviour in this pilgrimage,-- + Dost thou remember? + +BENHADAD: + I recall the maid,-- + But dimly,--for my mind is old and weary, + She was a fearless maid, I trusted her + And gave thee to her charge. Where is she now? + +NAAMAN: + This robber fell upon my camp by night,-- + While I was with Elisha at the Jordan,-- + Slaughtered my soldiers, carried off the maid, + And holds her somewhere in imprisonment. + O give this jewel back to me, my King, + And I will serve thee with a grateful heart + For ever. I will fight for thee, and lead + Thine armies on to glorious victory + Over all foes! Thou shalt no longer fear + The host of Asshur, for thy throne shall stand + Encompassed with a wall of dauntless hearts, + And founded on a mighty people's love, + And guarded by the God of righteousness. + +BENHADAD: + I feel the flame of courage at thy breath + Leap up among the ashes of despair. + Thou hast returned to save us! Thou shalt have + The maid; and thou shalt lead my host again! + Priest, I command you give her back to him. + +REZON: + O master, I obey thy word as thou + Hast ever been obedient to the voice + Of Rimmon. Let thy fiery captain wait + Until the sacrifice has been performed, + And he shall have the jewel that he claims. + Must we not first placate the city's god + With due allegiance, keep the ancient faith, + And pay our homage to the Lord of Wrath? + +BENHADAD: [Sinking back upon his throne in fear.] + I am the faithful son of Rimmon's House,-- + And lo, these many years I worship him! + My thoughts are troubled,--I am very old, + But still a King! O Naaman, be patient! + Priest, let the sacrifice be offered. + + [The High Priest lifts his rod. Gongs and cymbals + sound. The curtain is rolled back, disclosing + the image of Rimmon; a gigantic and hideous idol, + with a cruel human face, four horns, the mane of + a lion, and huge paws stretched in front of him + enclosing a low altar of black stone. RUAHMAH + stands on the altar, chained, her arms are bare + and folded on her breast. The people prostrate + themselves in silence, with signs of astonishment + and horror.] + +REZON: + Behold the sacrifice! Bow down, bow down! + +NAAMAN: [Stabbing him.] + Bow thou, black priest! Down,--down to hell! + Ruahmah! do not die! I come to thee. + + [NAAMAN rushes toward her, attacked by the priests, + crying "Sacrilege! Kill him!" But the soldiers + stand on the steps and beat them back. He springs + upon the altar and clasps her by the hand. Tumult + and confusion. The King rises and speaks with a + loud voice, silence follows.] + +BENHADAD: + Peace, peace! The King commands all weapons down! + O Naaman, what wouldst thou do? Beware + Lest thou provoke the anger of a god. + +NAAMAN: + There is no God but one, the Merciful, + Who gave this perfect woman to my soul + That I might learn through her to worship Him, + And know the meaning of immortal Love. + +BENHADAD: [Agitated.] + Yet she is consecrated, bound, and doomed + To sacrificial death; but thou art sworn + To live and lead my host,--Hast thou not sworn? + +NAAMAN: + Only if thou wilt keep thy word to me! + Break with this idol of iniquity + Whose shadow makes a darkness in the land; + Give her to me who gave me back to thee; + And I will lead thine army to renown + And plant thy banners on the hill of triumph. + But if she dies, I die with her, defying Rimmon. + + [Cries of "Spare them! Release her! Give us back + our Captain!" and "Sacrilege! Let them die!" Then + silence, all turning toward the King.] + +BENHADAD: + Is this the choice? Must we destroy the bond + Of ancient faith, or slay the city's living hope! + I am an old, old man,--and yet the King! + Must I decide?--O let me ponder it! + + [His head sinks upon his breast. All stand eagerly + looking at him.] + +NAAMAN: + Ruahmah, my Ruahmah! I have come + To thee at last! And art thou satisfied? + +RUAHMAH: [Looking into his face.] + Beloved, my beloved, I am glad + Of all, and glad for ever, come what may. + Nothing can harm me,--since my lord is come! + + + + +APPENDIX + +CARMINA FESTIVA + + + +THE LITTLE-NECK CLAM + +A modern verse-sequence, showing how a native American subject, +strictly realistic, may be treated in various manners adapted +to the requirements of different magazines, thus combining +Art-for-Art's-Sake with Writing-for-the-Market. Read at the +First Dinner of the American Periodical Publishers' Association, +in Washington, April, 1904. + + +I + +THE ANTI-TRUST CLAM + +For _McClure's Magazine_ + + The clam that once, on Jersey's banks, + Was like the man who dug it, free, + Now slave-like thro' the market clanks + In chains of corporate tyranny. + + The Standard Fish-Trust of New York + Holds every clam-bank in control; + And like base Beef and menial Pork, + The free-born Clam has lost its soul. + + No more the bivalve treads the sands + In freedom's rapture, free from guilt: + It follows now the harsh commands + Of Morgiman and Rockabilt. + + Rise, freemen, rise! Your wrath is just! + Call on the Sherman Act to dam + The floods of this devouring Trust, + And liberate the fettered Clam. + + +II + +THE WHITMANIAC CLAM + +For the _Bookman_ + + Not Dante when he wandered by the river Arno, + Not Burns who plowed the banks and braes of bonnie Ayr, + Not even Shakspere on the shores of Avon,--ah, no! + Not one of those great bards did taste true Poet's Fare. + + But Whitman, loafing in Long Island and New Jersey, + Found there the sustenance of mighty ode and psalm, + And while his rude emotions swam around in verse, he + Fed chiefly on the wild, impassioned, sea-born clam. + + Thus in his work we feel the waves' bewildering motion, + And winds from mighty mud-flats, weird and wild: + His clam-filled bosom answered to the voice of ocean, + And rose and fell responsively with every tide. + + +III + +IL MERCATORE ITALIANO DELLA CLAMMA + +For the _Century Magazine_ + + "Clam O! Fres' Clam!" How strange it sounds and sweet, + The Dago's cry along the New York street! + "Dago" we call him, like the thoughtless crowd; + And yet this humble man may well be proud + To hail from Petrarch's land, Boccaccio's home,-- + Firenze, Gubbio, Venezia, Rome,-- + From fair Italia, whose enchanted soil + Transforms the lowly cotton-seed to olive-oil. + + To me his chant, with alien accent sung, + Brings back an echo of great Virgil's tongue: + It seems to cry against the city's woe, + In liquid Latin syllables,--_Clamo_! + As thro' the crowded street his cart he jams + And cries aloud, ah, think of more than clams! + Receive his secret plaint with pity warm, + And grant Italia's plea for Tenement-House Reform! + + +IV + +THE SOCIAL CLAM + +For the _Smart Set_ + + Fair Phyllis is another's bride: + Therefore I like to sit beside + Her at a very smart set dinner, + And whisper love, and try to win her. + + The little-necks,--in number six,-- + That from their pearly shells she picks + And swallows whole,--ah, is it selfish + To wish my heart among those shell-fish? + + "But Phyllis is another's wife; + And if she should absorb thy life + 'Twould leave thy bosom vacant."--Well, + I'd keep at least the empty shell! + + +V + +THE RECREANT CLAM + +For the _Outlook_ + + Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze, + Because thy slothful spirit doth refuse + The bliss of battle and the strain of strife. + Rise, craven clam, and lead the strenuous life! + + + +A FAIRY TALE + +For the Mark Twain Dinner, December 5, 1905 + + + Some three-score years and ten ago + A prince was born at Florida, Mo.; + And though he came _incognito_, + With just the usual yells of woe, + The watchful fairies seemed to know + Precisely what the row meant; + For when he was but five days old, + (December fifth as I've been told,) + They pattered through the midnight cold, + And came around his crib, to hold + A "Council of Endowment." + + "I give him Wit," the eldest said, + And stooped above the little bed, + To touch his forehead round and red. + "Within this bald, unfurnished head, + Where wild luxuriant locks shall spread + And wave in years hereafter, + I kindle now the lively spark, + That still shall flash by day and dark, + And everywhere he goes shall mark + His way with light and laughter." + + The fairies laughed to think of it + That such a rosy, wrinkled bit + Of flesh should be endowed with Wit! + But something serious seemed to hit + The mind of one, as if a fit + Of fear had come upon her. + "I give him Truth," she quickly cried, + "That laughter may not lead aside + To paths where scorn and falsehood hide,-- + I give him Truth and Honour!" + + "I give him Love," exclaimed the third; + And as she breathed the mystic word, + I know not if the baby heard, + But softly in his dream he stirred, + And twittered like a little bird, + And stretched his hands above him. + The fairy's gift was sealed and signed + With kisses twain the deed to bind: + "A heart of love to human-kind, + And human-kind to love him!" + + "Now stay your giving!" cried the Queen. + "These gifts are passing rich I ween; + And if reporters should be mean + Enough to spy upon this scene, + 'Twould make all other babies green + With envy at the rumour. + Yet since I love this child, forsooth, + I'll mix your gifts, Wit, Love and Truth, + With spirits of Immortal Youth, + And call the mixture Humour!" + + The fairies vanished with their glittering train; + But here's the Prince with all their gifts,--_Mark Twain_. + + + +THE BALLAD OF THE SOLEMN ASS + +Recited at the Century Club, New York: Twelfth Night. 1906 + + + Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times, + You've made a Poet Laureate, now you must hear his rhymes. + Extend your ears and I'll respond by shortening up my tale:-- + Man cannot live by verse alone, he must have cakes and ale. + + So while you wait for better things and muse on schnapps and salad, + I'll try my Pegasus his wings and sing a little ballad: + A legend of your ancestors, the Wise Men of the East, + Who brought among their baggage train a quaint and curious beast. + + Their horses were both swift and strong, and we should think it lucky + If we could buy, by telephone, such horses from Kentucky; + Their dromedaries paced along, magnificent and large, + Their camels were as stately as if painted by La Farge. + + But this amazing little ass was never satisfied, + He made more trouble every day than all the rest beside: + His ears were long, his legs were short, his eyes were bleared and dim, + But nothing in the wide, wide world was good enough for him. + + He did not like the way they went, but lifted up his voice + And said that any other way would be a better choice. + He braced his feet and stood his ground, and made the wise men wait, + While with his heels at all around he did recalcitrate. + + It mattered not how fair the land through which the road might run, + He found new causes for complaint with every Morning Sun: + And when the shades of twilight fell and all the world grew nappy, + They tied him to his Evening Post, but still he was not happy. + + He thought his load was far too large, he thought his food was bad, + He thought the Star a poor affair, he thought the Wise Men mad: + He did not like to hear them laugh,--'twas childish to be jolly; + And if perchance they sang a hymn,--'twas sentimental folly! + + So day by day this little beast performed his level best + To make their life, in work and play, a burden to the rest: + And when they laid them down at night, he would not let them sleep, + But criticized the Universe with hee-haws loud and deep. + + One evening, as the Wise Men sat before their fire-lit tent, + And ate and drank and talked and sang, in grateful merriment, + The solemn donkey butted in, in his most solemn way, + And broke the happy meeting up with a portentous bray. + + "Now by my head," Balthazar said (his real name was Choate), + "We've had about enough of this! I'll put it to the vote. + I move the donkey be dismissed; let's turn him out to grass, + And travel on our cheerful way, without the solemn ass." + + The vote was aye! and with a whack the Wise Men drove him out; + But still he wanders up and down, and all the world about; + You'll know him by his long, sad face and supercilious ways, + And likewise by his morning kicks and by his evening brays. + + But while we sit at Eagle Roost and make our Twelfth Night cheer, + Full well we know the solemn ass will not disturb us here: + For pleasure rules the roost to-night, by order of the King, + And every one must play his part, and laugh, and likewise sing. + + The road of life is long, we know, and often hard to find, + And yet there's many a pleasant turn for men of cheerful mind: + We've done our day's work honestly, we've earned the right to rest, + We'll take a cup of friendship now and spice it with a jest. + + A silent health to absent friends, their memories are bright! + A hearty health to all who keep the feast with us to-night! + A health to dear Centuria, oh, may she long abide! + A health, a health to all the world,--and the solemn ass, _outside_! + + + +A BALLAD OF SANTA CLAUS + +For the St. Nicholas Society of New York + + + Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira, + I find the one whose name we hold, St. Nicholas of Myra: + The best-beloved name, I guess, in sacred nomenclature,-- + The patron-saint of helpfulness, and friendship, and good-nature. + + A bishop and a preacher too, a famous theologian, + He stood against the Arian crew and fought them like a Trojan: + But when a poor man told his need and begged an alms in trouble, + He never asked about his creed, but quickly gave him double. + + Three pretty maidens, so they say, were longing to be married; + But they were paupers, lack-a-day, and so the suitors tarried. + St. Nicholas gave each maid a purse of golden ducats chinking, + And then, for better or for worse, they wedded quick as winking. + + Once, as he sailed, a storm arose; wild waves the ship surrounded; + The sailors wept and tore their clothes, and shrieked "We'll all be + drownded!" + St. Nicholas never turned a hair; serenely shone his halo; + He simply said a little prayer, and all the billows lay low. + + The wicked keeper of an inn had three small urchins taken, + And cut them up in a pickle-bin, and salted them for bacon. + St. Nicholas came and picked them out, and put their limbs together,-- + They lived, they leaped, they gave a shout, "St. Nicholas forever!" + + And thus it came to pass, you know, that maids without a nickel, + And sailor-lads when tempest blow, and children in a pickle, + And every man that's fatherly, and every kindly matron, + In choosing saints would all agree to call St. Nicholas patron. + + He comes again at Christmas-time and stirs us up to giving; + He rings the merry bells that chime good-will to all the living; + He blesses every friendly deed and every free donation; + He sows the secret, golden seed of love through all creation. + + Our fathers drank to Santa Claus, the sixth of each December, + And still we keep his feast because his virtues we remember. + Among the saintly ranks he stood, with smiling human features, + And said, "_Be good! But not too good to love your fellow-creatures!_" + +December 6, 1907. + + + +ARS AGRICOLARIS + +An Ode for the "Farmer's Dinner," University Club, New York, +January 23, 1913 + + + All hail, ye famous Farmers! + Ye vegetable-charmers, + Who know the art of making barren earth + Smile with prolific mirth + And bring forth twins or triplets at a birth! + Ye scientific fertilizers of the soil, + And horny-handed sons of toil! + To-night from all your arduous cares released, + With manly brows no longer sweat-impearled, + Ye hold your annual feast, + And like the Concord farmers long ago, + Ye meet above the "Bridge" below, + And draw the cork heard round the world! + + What memories are yours! What tales + Of triumph have your tongues rehearsed, + Telling how ye have won your first + Potatoes from the stubborn mead, + (Almost as many as ye sowed for seed!) + And how the luscious cabbages and kails + Have bloomed before you in their bed + At seven dollars a head! + And how your onions took a prize + For bringing tears into the eyes + Of a hard-hearted cook! And how ye slew + The Dragon Cut-worm at a stroke! + And how ye broke, + Routed, and put to flight the horrid crew + Of vile potato-bugs and Hessian flies! + And how ye did not quail + Before th' invading armies of San Jose Scale, + But met them bravely with your little pail + Of poison, which ye put upon each tail + O' the dreadful beasts and made their courage fail! + And how ye did acquit yourselves like men + In fields of agricultural strife, and then, + Like generous warriors, sat you down at ease + And gently to your gardener said, "Let us have _Pease_!" + + But _were_ there Pease? Ah, no, dear Farmers, no! + The course of Nature is not ordered so. + For when we want a vegetable most, + She holds it back; + And when we boast + To our week-endly friends + Of what we'll give them on our farm, alack, + Those things the old dam, Nature, never sends. + + O Pease in bottles, Sparrow-grass in jars, + How often have ye saved from scars + Of shame, and deep embarrassment, + The disingenuous farmer-gent, + To whom some wondering guest has cried, + "How _do_ you raise such Pease and Sparrow-grass?" + Whereat the farmer-gent has not denied + The compliment, but smiling has replied, + "To raise such things you must have lots of glass." + + From wiles like these, true Farmers, hold aloof; + Accept no praise unless you have the proof. + If niggard Nature should withhold the green + And sugary Pea, welcome the humble Bean. + Even the easy Radish, and the Beet, + If grown by your own toil are extra sweet. + Let malefactors of great wealth and banker-felons + Rejoice in foreign artichokes, imported melons; + But you, my Farmers, at your frugal board + Spread forth the fare your Sabine Farms afford. + Say to Maecenas, when he is your guest, + "No peaches! try this turnip, 'tis my best." + Thus shall ye learn from labors in the field + What honesty a farmer's life may yield, + And like G. Washington in early youth, + Though cherries fail, produce a crop of truth. + + But think me not too strict, O followers of the plough; + Some place for fiction in your lives I would allow. + In January when the world is drear, + And bills come in, and no results appear, + And snow-storms veil the skies, + And ice the streamlet clogs, + Then may you warm your heart with pleasant lies + And revel in the seedsmen's catalogues! + What visions and what dreams are these + Of cauliflower obese,-- + Of giant celery, taller than a mast,-- + Of strawberries + Like red pincushions, round and vast,-- + Of succulent and spicy gumbo,-- + Of cantaloupes, as big as Jumbo,-- + Of high-strung beans without the strings,-- + And of a host of other wild, romantic things! + + Why, then, should Doctor Starr declare + That modern habits mental force impair? + And why should H. Marquand complain + That jokes as good as his will never come again? + And why should Bridges wear a gloomy mien + About the lack of fiction for his Magazine? + The seedsman's catalogue is all we need + To stir our dull imaginations + To new creations, + And lead us, by the hand + Of Hope, into a fairy-land. + + So dream, my friendly Farmers, as you will; + And let your fancy all your garners fill + With wondrous crops; but always recollect + That Nature gives us less than we expect. + Scorn not the city where you earn the wealth + That, spent upon your farms, renews your health; + And tell your wife, whene'er the bills have shocked her, + "A country-place is cheaper than a doctor." + May roses bloom for you, and may you find + Your richest harvest in a tranquil mind. + +[Transcriber's note: "fertilizers" above was "fetilizers" +in the original.] + + + +ANGLER'S FIRESIDE SONG + + + Oh, the angler's path is a very merry way, + And his road through the world is bright; + For he lives with the laughing stream all day, + And he lies by the fire at night. + + Sing hey nonny, ho nonny + And likewise well-a-day! + The angler's life is a very jolly life + And that's what the anglers say! + + Oh, the angler plays for the pleasure of the game, + And his creel may be full or light, + But the tale that he tells will be just the same + When he lies by the fire at night. + + Sing hey nonny, ho nonny + And likewise well-a-day! + We love the fire and the music of the lyre, + And that's what the anglers say! + +To the San Francisco Fly-Casting Club, April, 1913. + + + +HOW SPRING COMES TO SHASTA JIM + + + I never seen no "red gods"; I dunno wot's a "lure"; + But if it's sumpin' takin', then Spring has got it sure; + An' it doesn't need no Kiplins, ner yet no London Jacks, + To make up guff about it, w'ile settin' in their shacks. + + It's sumpin' very simple 'at happens in the Spring, + But it changes all the lookin's of every blessed thing; + The buddin' woods look bigger, the mounting twice as high, + But the house looks kindo smaller, tho I couldn't tell ye why. + + It's cur'ous wot a show-down the month of April makes, + Between the reely livin', an' the things 'at's only fakes! + Machines an' barns an' buildin's, they never give no sign; + But the livin' things look lively w'en Spring is on the line. + + She doesn't come too suddin, ner she doesn't come too slow; + Her gaits is some cayprishus, an' the next ye never know,-- + A single-foot o' sunshine, a buck o' snow er hail,-- + But don't be disapp'inted, fer Spring ain't goin' ter fail. + + She's loopin' down the hillside,--the driffs is fadin' out. + She's runnin' down the river,--d'ye see them risin' trout? + She's loafin' down the canyon,--the squaw-bed's growin' blue, + An' the teeny Johnny-jump-ups is jest a-peekin' thru. + + A thousan' miles o' pine-trees, with Douglas firs between, + Is waitin' fer her fingers to freshen up their green; + With little tips o' brightness the firs 'ill sparkle thick, + An' every yaller pine-tree, a giant candle-stick! + + The underbrush is risin' an' spreadin' all around, + Jest like a mist o' greenness 'at hangs above the ground; + A million manzanitas 'ill soon be full o' pink; + So saddle up, my sonny,--it's time to ride, I think! + + We'll ford er swim the river, becos there ain't no bridge; + We'll foot the gulches careful, an' lope along the ridge; + We'll take the trail to Nowhere, an' travel till we tire, + An' camp beneath a pine-tree, an' sleep beside the fire. + + We'll see the blue-quail chickens, an' hear 'em pipin' clear; + An' p'raps we'll sight a brown-bear, er else a bunch o' deer; + But nary a heathen goddess or god 'ill meet our eyes; + For why? There isn't any! They're jest a pack o' lies! + + Oh, wot's the use o' "red gods," an' "Pan," an' all that stuff? + The natcheral facts o' Springtime is wonderful enuff! + An' if there's Someone made 'em, I guess He understood, + To be alive in Springtime would make a man feel good. + +California, 1913. + + + +A BUNCH OF TROUT-FLIES + +For Archie Rutledge + + + Here's a half-a-dozen flies, + Just about the proper size + For the trout of Dickey's Run,-- + Luck go with them every one! + + Dainty little feathered beauties, + Listen now, and learn your duties: + Not to tangle in the box; + Not to catch on logs or rocks, + Boughs that wave or weeds that float, + Nor in the angler's "pants" or coat! + Not to lure the glutton frog + From his banquet in the bog; + Nor the lazy chub to fool, + Splashing idly round the pool; + Nor the sullen horned pout + From the mud to hustle out! + + None of this vulgarian crew, + Dainty flies, is game for you. + Darting swiftly through the air + Guided by the angler's care, + Light upon the flowing stream + Like a winged fairy dream; + Float upon the water dancing, + Through the lights and shadows glancing, + Till the rippling current brings you, + And with quiet motion swings you, + Where a speckled beauty lies + Watching you with hungry eyes. + + Here's your game and here's your prize! + Hover near him, lure him, tease him, + Do your very best to please him, + Dancing on the water foamy, + Like the frail and fair Salome, + Till the monarch yields at last; + Rises, and you have him fast! + Then remember well your duty,-- + Do not lose, but land, your booty; + For the finest fish of all is + _Salvelinus Fontinalis._ + + So, you plumed illusions, go, + Let my comrade Archie know + Every day he goes a-fishing + I'll be with him in well-wishing. + Most of all when lunch is laid + In the dappled orchard shade, + With Will, Corinne, and Dixie too, + Sitting as we used to do + Round the white cloth on the grass + While the lazy hours pass, + And the brook's contented tune + Lulls the sleepy afternoon,-- + Then's the time my heart will be + With that pleasant company! + +June 17, 1913. + + + + +INDEX OF FIRST LINES + + + A deeper crimson in the rose, + A fir-tree standeth lonely + A flawless cup: how delicate and fine + A little fir grew in the midst of the wood + A mocking question! Britain's answer came + A silent world,--yet full of vital joy + A silken curtain veils the skies, + A tear that trembles for a little while + Across a thousand miles of sea, a hundred leagues of land, + Afterthought of summer's bloom! + Ah, who will tell me, in these leaden days, + All along the Brazos River, + All day long in the city's canyon-street, + All hail, ye famous Farmers! + All night long, by a distant bell + All the trees are sleeping, all the winds are still, + Among the earliest saints of old, before the first Hegira + At dawn in silence moves the mighty stream, + At sunset, when the rosy light was dying + + Children of the elemental mother, + "Clam O! Fres' Clam!" How strange it sounds and sweet, + Come all ye good Centurions and wise men of the times, + Come, give me back my life again, you heavy-handed Death! + Come home, my love, come home! + Could every time-worn heart but see Thee once again, + Count not the cost of honour to the dead! + + Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that wild night + Dear Aldrich, now November's mellow days + Dear to my heart are the ancestral dwellings of America, + _Deeds not Words_: I say so too! + Deep in the heart of the forest the lily of Yorrow is growing; + "Do you give thanks for this?--or that?" No, God be thanked + Do you remember, father,-- + Does the snow fall at sea? + + Ere thou sleepest gently lay + + Fair Phyllis is another's bride: + Fair Roslin Chapel, how divine + Far richer than a thornless rose + Flowers rejoice when night is done, + For that thy face is fair I love thee not: + Four things a man must learn to do + From the misty shores of midnight, touched with splendours of the moon, + Furl your sail, my little boatie: + + Give us a name to fill the mind + Glory of architect, glory of painter, and sculptor, and bard, + God said, "I am tired of kings,"-- + Great Nature had a million words, + + Hear a word that Jesus spake + Heart of France for a hundred years, + Her eyes are like the evening air, + Here's a half-a-dozen flies, + Here the great heart of France, + Home, for my heart still calls me: + Honour the brave who sleep + Hours fly, + How blind the toil that burrows like the mole, + "How can I tell," Sir Edmund said, + _How long is the night, brother,_ + How long the echoes love to play + + I count that friendship little worth + I envy every flower that blows + I have no joy in strife, + I love thine inland seas, + I never seen no "red gods"; I dunno wot's a "lure"; + I never thought again to hear + I put my heart to school + I read within a poet's book + I think of thee when golden sunbeams glimmer + I would not even ask my heart to say + If all the skies were sunshine, + If I have erred in showing all my heart, + If Might made Right, life were a wild-beasts' cage: + If on the closed curtain of my sight + In a great land, a new land, a land full of labour and riches and + confusion, + In mirth he mocks the other birds at noon, + In robes of Tynan blue the King was drest, + In the blue heaven the clouds will come and go, + In the pleasant time of Pentecost, + Into the dust of the making of man, + In warlike pomp, with banners flowing, + It pleased the Lord of Angels (praise His name!) + It's little I can tell + It was my lot of late to travel far + + "Joy is a Duty,"--so with golden lore + Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee, + Just to give up, and trust + + Knight-Errant of the Never-ending Quest, + + Let me but do my work from day to day, + Let me but feel thy look's embrace, + "Lights out" along the land, + Like a long arrow through the dark the train is darting, + Limber-limbed, lazy god, stretched on the rock, + Lord Jesus, Thou hast known + Long ago Apollo called to Aristaeus, youngest of the shepherds, + Long had I loved this "Attic shape," the brede + Long, long ago I heard a little song, + Long, long, long the trail + Lover of beauty, walking on the height + Low dost thou lie amid the languid ooze, + + March on, my soul, nor like a laggard stay! + Mother of all the high-strung poets and singers departed, + + Not Dante when he wandered by the river Arno, + Not to the swift, the race: + Now in the oak the sap of life is welling, + + O dark the night and dim the day + O garden isle, beloved by Sun and Sea, + O Lord our God, Thy mighty hand + O mighty river! strong, eternal Will, + O Mother mountains! billowing far to the snow-lands, + O Music hast thou only heard + O who will walk a mile with me + O wonderful! How liquid clear + O youngest of the giant brood + Oh, gallantly they fared forth in khaki and in blue, + Oh, quick to feel the lightest touch + Oh, the angler's path is a very merry way, + Oh, was I born too soon, my dear, or were you born too late, + Oh, what do you know of the song, my dear, + Oh, why are you shining so bright, big Sun, + Once, only once, I saw it clear,-- + One sail in sight upon the lonely sea, + Only a little shrivelled seed, + + Peace without Justice is a low estate,-- + + Read here, O friend unknown, + Remember, when the timid light + + Saints are God's flowers, fragrant souls + Self is the only prison that can ever bind the soul: + Ship after ship, and every one with a high-resounding name, + Sign of the Love Divine + Some three-score years and ten ago + Soul of a soldier in a poet's frame, + Stand back, ye messengers of mercy! Stand + Stand fast, Great Britain! + + The British bard who looked on Eton's walls, + The clam that once, on Jersey's banks, + The cornerstone in Truth is laid, + The cradle I have made for thee + The day returns by which we date our years: + The fire of love was burning, yet so low + The gabled roofs of old Malines + The glory of ships is an old, old song, + The grief that is but feigning, + The heavenly hills of Holland,-- + The laggard winter ebbed so slow + The land was broken in despair, + The melancholy gift Aurora gained + The moonbeams over Arno's vale in silver flood were pouring, + The mountains that inclose the vale + The nymphs a shepherd took + The other night I had a dream, most clear + The record of a faith sublime, + The river of dreams runs quietly down + The roar of the city is low, + The rough expanse of democratic sea + The shadow by my finger cast + The tide, flows in to the harbour,-- + The time will come when I no more can play + The winds of war-news change and veer: + The worlds in which we live at heart are one, + There are many kinds of anger, as many kinds of fire: + There are many kinds of love, as many kinds of light, + There are songs for the morning and songs for the night, + There is a bird I know so well, + They tell me thou art rich, my country: gold + This is the soldier brave enough to tell + This is the window's message, + Thou warden of the western gate, above Manhattan Bay, + Thou who hast made thy dwelling fair + "Through many a land your journey ran, + 'Tis fine to see the Old World, and travel up and down + To thee, plain hero of a rugged race, + Two dwellings, Peace, are thine + Two hundred years of blessing I record + "Two things," the wise man said, "fill me with awe: + 'Twas far away and long ago, + + Under the cloud of world-wide war, + + Waking from tender sleep, + We men that go down for a livin' in ships to the sea,-- + We met on Nature's stage, + What hast thou done, O womanhood of France, + What is Fortune, what is Fame? + What makes the lingering Night so cling to thee? + What shall I give for thee, + What time the rose of dawn is laid across the lips of night, + When down the stair at morning + When May bedecks the naked trees + When Staevoren town was in its prime + When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark + When tulips bloom in Union Square, + When to the garden of untroubled thought + Where's your kingdom, little king? + Who knows how many thousand years ago + Who seeks for heaven alone to save his soul, + Who watched the worn-out Winter die? + Winter on Mount Shasta, + With eager heart and will on fire, + With memories old and wishes new + With two bright eyes, my star, my love + Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls + + Ye gods of battle, lords of fear, + Yes, it was like you to forget, + You dare to say with perjured lips, + You only promised me a single hour: + Yours is a garden of old-fashioned flowers; + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Poems of Henry Van Dyke, by Henry Van Dyke + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE POEMS OF HENRY VAN DYKE *** + +***** This file should be named 16229.txt or 16229.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/2/16229/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Daniel Emerson Griffith and +the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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