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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:52:22 -0700 |
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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/18007-8.txt b/18007-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2816580 --- /dev/null +++ b/18007-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3246 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of More Songs From Vagabondia, by +Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey + +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: More Songs From Vagabondia + +Author: Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey + +Release Date: March 17, 2006 [EBook #18007] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Paul Motsuk and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + +MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA + +Bliss Carman +Richard Hovey + + +Designs by +Tom B. Meteyard + + +Boston: Copeland and Day +London: Elkin Mathews + +MDCCCXCVI + + + + +_To M. G. M., so good to lighten cares, +The boys inscribe this second book of theirs._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +JONGLEURS 1 +EARTH'S LYRIC 5 +THE WOOD-GOD 6 +A FAUN'S SONG 7 +QUINCE TO LILAC 7 +AN EASTER MARKET 11 +DAISIES 13 +THE MOCKING-BIRD 13 +KARLENE 14 +KARLENE 16 +CONCERNING KAVIN 21 +KAVIN AGAIN 21 +ACROSS THE TABLE 21 +BARNEY MCGEE 22 +THE SEA GYPSY 25 +SPEECH AND SILENCE 26 +SECRETS 26 +THE FIRST JULEP 26 +A STEIN SONG 27 +THE UNSAINTING OF KAVIN 28 +IN THE WAYLAND WILLOWS 29 +WHEN I WAS TWENTY 31 +IN A SILENCE 32 +THE BATHER 33 +NOCTURNE: IN ANJOU 33 +NOCTURNE: IN PROVENCE 34 +JUNE NIGHT IN WASHINGTON 35 +A SONG FOR MARNA 38 +SEPTEMBER WOODLANDS 38 +NANCIBEL 39 +A VAGABOND SONG 39 +THREE OF A KIND 40 +WOOD-FOLK LORE 42 +AT MICHAELMAS 44 +THE MOTHER OF POETS 48 +A GOOD-BY 49 +IN A COPY OF BROWNING 49 +SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF 53 +AT THE ROAD-HOUSE 56 +VERLAINE 58 +DISTILLATION 59 +A FRIEND'S WISH 59 +LAL OF KILRUDDEN 60 +HUNTING-SONG 61 +BUIE ANNAJOHN 62 +MARY OF MARKA 63 +PREMONITION 63 +THE HEARSE-HORSE 64 +THE NIGHT-WASHERS 64 +MR. MOON 66 +HEM AND HAW 70 +ACCIDENT IN ART 71 +IN A GARDEN 71 +AT THE END OF THE DAY 72 + + + + +_And ever with the vanguard + The vagrant singers come + The gamins of the city +Who dance before the drum_ + + + + +JONGLEURS. + + +What is the stir in the street? +Hurry of feet! +And after, +A sound as of pipes and of tabers! + +Men of the conflicts and labors, +Struggling and shifting and shoving, +Pushing and pounding your neighbors, +Fighting for leeway for laughter, +Toiling for leisure for loving! +Hark, through the window and up to the rafter, +Madder and merrier, +Deeper and verier, +Sweeter, contrarier, +Dafter and dafter, +A song arises,-- +A thrill, an intrusion, +A reel, an illusion, +A rapture, a crisis +Of bells in the air! + +Ay, up from your work and look out of the window! +"Who are the newcomers, Arab or Hindoo? +Persians, or Japs, or the children of Isis?" +--Guesses, surmises-- +Forth with you, fare +Down in the street to draw nearer and stare! +Come from your palaces, come from your hovels! +Lay down your ledgers, your picks and your shovels, +Your trowels and bricks, +Hammers and nails, +Scythes and flails, +Bargains and sales, +And the trader's tricks, +Deals, overreachings, +Worries and griefs, +Teachings and preachings, +Boluses, briefs, +Writs and attachments, +Quarterings, hatchments, +Clans and cognomens, +Comments and scholia, +(World's melancholia)-- +Cast them aside, and good riddance to rubbish! +Here at the street-corner, hearken, a strain, +Rough and off-hand and a bit rub-a-dub-ish, +Gives us a taste of the life we'd attain. + +Who are they, what are they, whence have they come to us? +Where will they go when their singing is done? +What is the garb they wear, tattered and sumptuous, +Faded with days and superb in the sun? +What are they singing of? +Hush! +... There's a ringing of +Delicate chimes; +And the blush +Of a veiled bride morning +Beats in the rhymes. +Listen! +Out of the merriment, +Clear as the glisten +Of dew on the brier, +A silver warning! +Sudden, a dare-- +Lyric experiment-- +Up like a lark in the air, +Higher and higher and higher, +The song shoots out of our blunder +Of thought to the blue sky of wonder, +And broken strains only fall down +Like pearls on the roofs of the town. + +Somebody says they have come from the moon, +Seen with their eyes Eldorado, +Sat in the Bo-tree's shadow, +Wandered at noon +In the valleys of Van, +Tented in Lebanon, tarried in Ophir, +Last year in Tartary piped for the Khan. +Now it's the song of a lover; +Now it's the lilt of a loafer,-- +Under the trees in a midsummer noon, +Dreaming the haze into isles to discover, +Beating the silences into a croon; +Soon +Up from the marshes a fall of the plover! +Out from the cover +A flurry of quail! +Down from the height where the slow hawks hover, +The thin far ghost of a hail! +And near, and near, +Throbbing and tingling,-- +With a human cheer +In the earth-song mingling,-- +Mirth and carousal, +Wooing, espousal, +Clinking of glasses +And laughter of lasses-- +And the wind in the garden stoops down as it passes +To play with the hair +Of the loveliest there, +And the wander-lust catches the will in its snare; +Hill-wind and spray-lure, +Call of the heath; +Dare in the teeth +Of the balk and the failure; +The clasp and the linger +Of loosening finger, +Loth to dissever; +Thrill of the comrade heart to its fellow +Through droughts that sicken and blasts that bellow +From purple furrow to harvest yellow, +Now and forever. +How our feet itch to keep time to their measure! +How our hearts lift to the lilt of their song! +Let the world go, for a day's royal pleasure! +Not every summer such waifs come along. + +Now they are off to the inn; +Hear the clean ring of their laughter! +Cool as a hill-brook after +The beat of the noon sets in! +Gentlemen even in jollity-- +Certainly people of quality!-- +Waifs and estrays no less, +Roofless and penniless, +They are the wayside strummers +Whose lips are man's renown, +Those wayward brats of Summer's +Who stroll from town to town; +Spendthrift of life, they ravish +The days of an endless store, +And ever the more they lavish +The heap of the hoard is more. +For joy and love and vision +Are alive and breed and stay +When dust shall hold in derision +The misers of a day. + + + + +EARTH'S LYRIC. + + +April. You hearken, my fellow, +Old slumberer down in my heart? +There's a whooping of ice in the rivers; +The sap feels a start. + +The snow-melted torrents are brawling; +The hills, orange-misted and blue, +Are touched with the voice of the rainbird +Unsullied and new. + +The houses of frost are deserted, +Their slumber is broken and done, +And empty and pale are the portals +Awaiting the sun. + +The bands of Arcturus are slackened; +Orion goes forth from his place +On the slopes of the night, leading homeward +His hound from the chase. + +The Pleiades weary and follow +The dance of the ghostly dawn; +The revel of silence is over; +Earth's lyric comes on. + +A golden flute in the cedars, +A silver pipe in the swales, +And the slow large life of the forest +Wells bade and prevails. + +A breath of the woodland spirit +Has blown out the bubble of spring +To this tenuous hyaline glory +One touch sets a-wing. + + + + +THE WOOD-GOD. + + +Brother, lost brother! +Thou of mine ancient kin! +Thou of the swift will that no ponderings smother! +The dumb life in me fumbles out to the shade +Thou lurkest in. +In vain--evasive ever through the glade +Departing footsteps fail; +And only where the grasses have been pressed, +Or by snapped twigs I follow a fruitless trail. +So--give o'er the quest! +Sprawl on the roots and moss! +Let the lithe garter squirm across my throat! +Let the slow clouds and leaves above me float +Into mine eyeballs and across,-- +Nor think them further! Lo, the marvel! now, +Thou whom my soul desireth, even thou +Sprawl'st by my side, who fled'st at my pursuit. +I hear thy fluting; at my shoulder there +I see the sharp ears through the tangled hair, +And birds and bunnies at thy music mute. + + + + +A FAUN'S SONG. + + +Cool! cool! cool! +Cool and sweet +The feel of the moss at my feet! +And sweet and cool +The touch of the wind, of the wind! + +Cool wind out of the blue, +At the touch of you +A little wave crinkles and flows +All over me down to my toes. + +"Coo-loo! Coo-loo!" +Hear the doves in the tree-tops croon. +"Coo-loo! Coo-loo!" +Love comes soon. + +"June! June!" +The veery sings, +Sings and sings, +"June! June!"-- +A pretty tune! + +Wind with your weight of perfume, +Bring me the bluebells' bloom! + + + + +QUINCE TO LILAC: To G. H. + + +Dear _Lilac_, how enchanting +To hear of you this way! +The Man who comes a-mouching +To visit me each day + +Says you too have a lover +Far lovelier than I. +And from his rapt description, +She loves you gloriously. + +The Man prowls out each morning +To see if spring's begun. +What infinite amusement +These creatures offer one! + +He asks me such conundrums +As no one ever heard: +The name of April's father, +The trail of every bird, + +What keeps me warm in winter, +Who wakes me up in time, +And why procrastination +Is such a fearful crime. + +And yet, who knows? He may be +Our equal ages hence-- +With such pathetic glimmers +Of weird intelligence! + +But this your blessed alien, +Why strays she roving here? +Was Orpheus not her brother, +Persephone her peer? + +Was she not once a dryad +Whom Syrinx lulled to sleep +Beside the Dorian water, +And still her eyelids keep + +The glad unperished secret +From centuries of joy, +And memories of the morning +When Helen sailed for Troy? + +Is her name Gertrude, Kitty, +Hypatia, or what? +I seem to half remember, +And yet have quite forgot. + +That soft Hellenic laughter! +I marvel you don't make +An effort to be early +In budding for her sake. + +Just fancy hearing daily +That velvet voice of hers! +How do you quell the riot +Of sap her coming stirs? + +Perhaps she puts her face up, +(Dear Charity she is!) +For messages of summer +And better worlds than this. + +You cannot blush, poor Lilac; +It is not in your race. +I simply should go crimson, +If I were in your place. + +Do tell her all your secrets! +The Man declares she knows +Better than any mortal +The wonder-trick of prose. + +_Our_ prose, I mean,--how beauty +Appears to you and me; +The truth that seems so simple, +Which they call poetry. + +They put it down in writing +And label it with tags, +The funny conscious people +Who mask in colored rags! + +They have a thing called _science_, +With phrases strange and pat. +My dear, can you imagine +Intelligence like that? + +And when they first discover +That yellows are not greens, +They pucker up their foreheads +And ponder what it means. + +And then those cave-like places, +Churches and Capitols, +Where they all come together +Like troops of talking dolls, + +To govern, as they term it, +(It's really very odd!) +And have what they call worship +Of something they call God. + +But Kitty, or whatever +May be her tender name, +Is more like us. She guesses +What sets the year aflame. + +She knows beyond her senses; +Do tell her all you can! +The funny people need it,-- +At least, so says The Man. + +Good-by, dear. I must idle. +Sweet suns and happy rains! +How nice to have these humans +With their inventive brains,-- + +Their little scraps of paper! +They certainly evince +Remarkable discernment. +Your ever loving _Quince_. + + + + +AN EASTER MARKET. + + +Today, through your Easter market +In the lazy Southern sun, +I strolled with hands in pockets +Past the flower-stalls one by one. + +Indolent, dreamy, ready +For anything to amuse, +Shyfoot out for a ramble +In his oldest hat and shoes. + +Roses creamy and yellow, +Azaleas crimson and white, +And the flaky fresh carnations +My Orient of delight,-- + +Masses and banks of blossom +That dazzle and summon the eye, +Till the buyers are half bewildered +To know what they want. Not I. + +Who would not rather be artist +And slip through the crowd unseen +To gather it all in a picture +And guess what the faces mean? + +So down through the chaffering darkies +I pass to the sidewalk's end, +Through the smiling gingham bonnets +With their small farm-stuff to vend. + +When, hello! my dreamer, sudden +As call at the dead of night, +What sets your pulses a-quiver, +What sets your fancy alight? + +Sure of it! Mayflowers, mayflowers, +Scent of the North in spring! +Out in the vernal distance, +Heart of me, whither a-wing? + +"Give me some!" Clutch the first handful, +Hungering rover of earth! +How I devour and kiss them, +Beauties that brought me to birth, + +Away in the great north country, +The land of the lonely sun, +Where God has few for his fellows, +And the wolves of the snowdrift run. + +Once more to the frost-bound valley +Comes April with rain in her jar; +I can hear the vesper sparrow +Under the silver star. + +And many and dear and gracious +Are the dreams that walk at my side +From the land of the lingering shadows, +As out of the throng I stride. + +Oh, well for you, mere onlooker, +Who drift through the world's great mart! +But we of the human sorrow +Have a joy beyond your art. + + + + +DAISIES. + + +Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune +I saw the white daisies go down to the sea, +A host in the sunshine, an army in June, +The people God sends us to set our heart free. + +The bobolinks rallied them up from the dell, +The orioles whistled them out of the wood; +And all of their singing was, "Earth, it is well!" +And all of their dancing was, "Life, thou art good!" + + + + +THE MOCKING-BIRD. + + +_Hear! hear! hear!_ +Listen! the word +Of the mocking-bird! +_Hear! hear! hear! +I will make all clear; +I will let you know +Where the footfalls go +That through the thicket and over the hill +Allure, allure._ +How the bird-voice cleaves +Through the weft of leaves +With a leap and a thrill +Like the flash of a weaver's shuttle, swift and sudden and sure! + +And la, he is gone--even while I turn +The wisdom of his runes to learn. +He knows the mystery of the wood, +The secret of the solitude; +But he will not tell, he will not tell, +For all he promises so well. + + + + +KARLENE. + + +Word of a little one born in the West,-- +How like a sea-bird it comes from the sea, +Out of the league-weary waters' unrest +Blown with white wings, for a token, to me! + +Blown with a skriel and a flurry of plumes +(Sea-spray and flight-rapture whirled in a gleam!) +Here for a sign of the comrade that looms +Large in the mist of my love as I dream. + +He with the heart of an old violin, +Vibrant at every least stir in the place, +Lyric of woods where the thrushes begin, +Wave-questing wanderer, still for a space,-- + +What will the child of his be (so I muse), +Wood-flower, sea-flower, star-flower rare? +Worlds here to choose from, and which will she choose, +She whose first world is an armsweep of air? + +Baby Karlene, you are wondering now +Why you can't reach the great moon that you see +Just at your hand on the edge of the bough +That waves in the window-pane--how can it be? + +All your world yet hardly lies out of reach +Of ten little fingers and ten little toes. +You are a seed for the sky there to teach +(And the sun and the wind and the rain) as it grows. + +Just a green leaf piercing up to the day, +Pale fleck of June to come, just to be seen +Through the rough crumble of rubble and clay +Lifting its loveliness, dawn-child, Karlene! + +Fragile as fairycraft, dew-dream of love,-- +Never a clod that has marred the slim stalk, +Never a stone but its frail fingers move, +Bent on the blue sky and nothing can balk! + +Blue sky and wind-laughters, that is thy dream. +Ah the brave days when thy leafage shall toss +High where gold noondays and sunsets a-stream +Mix with its moving and kiss it across. + +There the great clouds shall go lazily by, +Coo! thee with shadows and dazzle with shine, +Drench thee with rain-guerdons, bless thee with sky, +Till all the knowledge of earth shall be thine. + +Wind from the ice-floe and wind from the palm, +Wind from the mountains and wind from the lea-- +How they will sing thee of tempest and calm! +How they will lure thee with tales of the sea! + +What will you be in that summer, Karlene? +Apple-tree, cherry-tree, lily, or corn? +Red rose or yellow rose, gray leaf or green? +Which will you choose now the year's at its morn? + +Somewhere even now in thy heart is the will,-- +"I shall be Golden Rod, slender and tall-- +I shall be Pond Lily, secret and still-- +I shall be Sweetbriar, Queen of them all-- + +"I shall give shade for the weary to rest-- +I shall grow flax for the naked to wear-- +Figs for a feast and all comers to guest-- +Wreaths that girls twine in the laugh of their hair-- + +"Ivy for scholars and myrtle for lovers, +Laurel for conquerors, poets, and kings-- +Broad-spreading beech-boughs whose benison covers +Clamor of bird-notes and flutter of wings-- + +"I shall rise tall as an elm in my grace-- +I shall be clothed as catalpa is clad-- +Poets shall crown me with lyrics of praise-- +Lovers for lure of my blossoms go mad!" + +Which shall it be, baby? Guess you at all? +Only I know in the lull of the year +You have said now where your choosing shall fall, +Only you have not yet heard yourself, dear. + +So, like a mocking-bird, up in the trees, +I watching wondering where you have grown, +Borrow a note from a birdfellow's glees, +Fittest to sing you, and make it my own. + +Only I know as I wonder, Karlene, +Singing up here where you think me a star, +Heaven's still above me, and some one serene +Laughs in the blue sky and knows what you are. + + + + +KARLENE. + + +Good-morning, Karlene. It's a very +Fine beautiful world we are in. +Well, you _do_ look as ripe as a berry; +And, pardon me, such a real chin! + +And may I--Ah, thank you; the pleasure +Is mine; just one kiss by your ear!-- +May I introduce myself as your +Most dutiful godfather, dear? + +I have fumed, like champagne that is fizzy, +To pay my respects at your door. +But the publishers keep one _so_ busy. +Forgive my not calling before! + +Karlene, you're a very small lady +To venture so far all alone; +Especially into so shady +A place as this planet has grown. + +When _I_ now, my dear, was at _your_ age, +When nobody tried to be rich, +But lived on high thinking and porridge +(And didn't know t' other from which!), + +For a girl to go out unattended +Was considered "not only unwise +And improper--" Our grandmothers ended +By lifting to heaven their eyes. + +And yet even now, though it's shocking +To slander these wonderful years, +I dare say an inch of black stocking +Could set all the world by the ears. + +Black, mind you, not blue! It's a trifle; +But trifling in stockings won't do; +For love has an eye like a rifle +(His bandage is slipping askew). + +But there! You are simply _too_ charming. +No doubt you'll be modern enough +(Though the speed of the world is alarming) +To win with a delicate bluff, + +As we say when we're raking the chips in, +On a hand that was not over strong-- +But I see you are pursing your lips in; +Perhaps I am prating too long. + +Anyhow you'll be learned in isms, +And talk pterodactyls in French, +And know polyhedrons from prisms,-- +Though you may not know how to retrench. + +You will fall out of love with digamma +To fall in again with Delsarte; +You will make a new Syriac grammar, +And know all the popes off by heart. + +What Socrates said to Xantippe +When the lash of her tongue made him grieve; +What makes the banana peel slippy; +And what the snake whispered to Eve; + +The music that Nero had played him, +When Rome was touched off with a match; +Why the king let the lady upbraid him +For burning her buns in a batch; + +Why Hebrew is written left-handed; +And what Venus did with her arms; +What the Conqueror said when he landed; +The acres in Horace's farms; + +The use of _hirundo_ and _passer_: +All this you will probe to the pith +As a freshman at Wellesley or Vassar +Or Bryn Mawr--though _I_ prefer Smith. + +You will solve every riddle in Browning; +And learn how to paddle and swim; +And save other people from drowning; +And play basket ball in the gym. + +But you'll scorn to know why there's a tax on +All reading that isn't a bore, +When Mallarmé's filtered through Saxon +And the Symbolists come to the fore. + +All winter you'll read mathematics +(Oh, you'll be a terrible "prod"), +And in June, at the Senior Dramatics, +You will play like a star. But it's odd, + +Since you'll quote every cadence in Kipling +And Arnold (of course I mean Matt), +If you don't make a bard of some stripling +Before he knows where he is at. + +I am sure you'll be lovely as Trilby, +The loveliest bud of the year; +But remember, Karlene, I shall still be +Your doting old godfather, dear. + +When you hear Archimedes' conundrum, +Like enough you'll be wanting to try +Whether one little girl _contra mundum_ +Can't lift the old thing with a pry! + +You will turn up your nose at poor "Thy will," +With a haughty agnostical sniff, +Till you find the imperative "I will" +Has a future conditional "if." + +And then you will come to your senses, +And find out why women were made; +And men too; and why there are fences +All round the whole lot where you strayed, + +While you wore yourself down to a shadow +Yet failed to discover your sphere; +For you'll see Adam down in the meadow +And think what a goosey you were! + +And then when your classmates are singing +Once more for good-by the old glees, +And the round painted lanterns are swinging +And sputtering out in the trees, + +When everything stales and withers +Except the great stars up above, +Your heartstrings will all go to smithers, +You'll just be one crumple of love. + +And Adam will be such a duffer +(Dear fellow, I mean), he'll contrive, +Till you make him, to not make him suffer, +The happiest mortal alive. + +Oh, it makes me too ill to continue, +Imagining how it will be +When some dapper youth comes to win you +And smiles condescension on me! + +I shall loathe his immaculate breeding, +And advise you in time to refuse. +To think he will share in your reading, +And even unbutton your shoes! + +And yet when for that precious laddie +Your hair is all crinkled and curled, +I guess you'll be just like your daddy, +The dearest old soul in the world! + + + + +CONCERNING KAVIN. + + +When Kavin comes back from the barber, +Although he no longer is young, +One cheek is as soft as his heart, +And the other as smooth as his tongue. + + + + +KAVIN AGAIN. + + +It is not anything he says, +It's just his presence and his smile, +The blarney of his silences +That cocker and beguile. + + + + +ACROSS THE TABLE. To A. L. L. + + +Here's to you, Arthur! You and I +Have seen a lot of stormy weather, +Since first we clinked cups on the sly +At school together. + +The winds of fate have had their will +And blown our crafts so far apart +We hardly knew if either still +Were on the chart. + +But now I know the love of man +Is more than time or space or fate, +And laugh to scorn the powers that ban, +With you for mate. + +It's good to have you sitting by, +Old man, to prove the world no botch, +To shame the devil with your eye +And pass the Scotch. + + + + +BARNEY McGEE. + + +Barney McGee, there's no end of good luck in you, +Will-o'-the-wisp, with a flicker of Puck in you, +Wild as a bull-pup and all of his pluck in you,-- +Let a man tread on your coat and he'll see!-- +Eyes like the lakes of Killarney for clarity, +Nose that turns up without any vulgarity, +Smile like a cherub, and hair that is carroty,-- +Wow, you're a rarity, Barney McGee! +Mellow as Tarragon, +Prouder than Aragon-- +Hardly a paragon, +You will agree-- +Here's all that's fine to you! +Books and old wine to you! +Girls be divine to you, +Barney McGee! + +Lucky the day when I met you unwittingly, +Dining where vagabonds came and went flittingly. +Here's some _Barbera_ to drink it befittingly, +That day at _Silvio's_, Barney McGee! +Many's the time we have quaffed our Chianti there, +Listened to Silvio quoting us Dante there,-- +Once more to drink _Nebiolo spumante_ there, +How we'd pitch Pommery into the sea! +There where the gang of us +Met ere Rome rang of us, +They had the hang of us +To a degree. +How they would trust to you! +That was but just to you. +Here's o'er their dust to you, +Barney McGee! + +Barney McGee, when you're sober you scintillate, +But when you're in drink you're the pride of the intellect; +Divil a one of us ever came in till late, +Once at the bar where you happened to be-- +Every eye there like a spoke in you centering, +You with your eloquence, blarney, and bantering-- +All Vagabondia shouts at your entering, +King of the Tenderloin, Barney McGee! +There's no satiety +In your society +With the variety +Of your _esprit_. +Here's a long purse to you, +And a great thirst to you! +Fate be no worse to you, +Barney McGee! + +Och, and the girls whose poor hearts you deracinate, +Whirl and bewilder and flutter and fascinate! +Faith, it's so killing you are, you assassinate,-- +Murder's the word for you, Barney McGee! +Bold when they're sunny and smooth when they're showery,-- +Oh, but the style of you, fluent and flowery! +Chesterfield's way, with a touch of the Bowery! +How would they silence you, Barney _machree_? +Naught can your gab allay, +Learned as Rabelais +(You in his abbey lay +Once on the spree). +Here's to the smile of you, +(Oh, but the guile of you!) +And a long while of you, +Barney McGee! + +Facile with phrases of length and Latinity, +Like _honorificabilitudinity_, +Where is the maid could resist your vicinity, +Wiled by the impudent grace of your plea? +Then your vivacity and pertinacity +Carry the day with the divil's audacity; +No mere veracity robs your sagacity +Of perspicacity, Barney McGee. +When all is new to them, +What will you do to them? +Will you be true to them? +Who shall decree? +Here's a fair strife to you! +Health and long life to you! +And a great wife to you, +Barney McGee! + +Barney McGee, you're the pick of gentility; +Nothing can phase you, you've such a facility; +Nobody ever yet found your utility,-- +That is the charm of you, Barney McGee; +Under conditions that others would stammer in, +Still unperturbed as a cat or a Cameron, +Polished as somebody in the Decameron, +Putting the glamour on prince or Pawnee! +In your meanderin', +Love, and philanderin', +Calm as a mandarin +Sipping his tea! +Under the art of you, +Parcel and part of you, +Here's to the heart of you, +Barney McGee! + +You who were ever alert to befriend a man, +You who were ever the first to defend a man, +You who had always the money to lend a man, +Down on his luck and hard up for a V! +Sure, you'll be playing a harp in beatitude +(And a quare sight you will be in that attitude)-- +Some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude, +You'll find your latitude, Barney McGee. +That's no flim-flam at all, +Frivol or sham at all, +Just the plain--Damn it all, +Have one with me! +Here's luck and more to you! +Friends by the score to you, +True to the core to you, +Barney McGee! + + + + +THE SEA GYPSY. + + +I am fevered with the sunset, +I am fretful with the bay, +For the wander-thirst is on me +And my soul is in Cathay. + +There's a schooner in the offing, +With her topsails shot with fire, +And my heart has gone aboard her +For the Islands of Desire. + +I must forth again to-morrow! +With the sunset I must be +Hull down on the trail of rapture +In the wonder of the sea. + + + + +SPEECH AND SILENCE. + + +The words that pass from lip to lip +For souls still out of reach! +A friend for that companionship +That's deeper than all speech! + + + + +SECRETS. + + +Three secrets that never were said: +The stir of the sap in the spring, +The desire of a man to a maid, +The urge of a poet to sing. + + + + +THE FIRST JULEP. + + +I love the lazy Southern spring, +The way she melts around a chap +And lets the great magnolias fling +Their languid petals in his lap. + +I love to travel down half-way +And meet her coming up the earth, +With hurdy-gurdy men who play +And make the children dance for mirth. + +But best of all I love to steer +For quiet corners not too far, +Where the first juleps reappear +With fresh green mint behind the bar. + +P. S. Perhaps you'll think it queer, +But I do not dislike a hint +To let the juleps disappear +And stick my nose into the mint. + + + + +A STEIN SONG. + + +Give a rouse, then, in the Maytime +For a life that knows no fear! +Turn night-time into daytime +With the sunlight of good cheer! +For it's always fair weather +When good fellows get together, +With a stein on the table and a good song ringing clear. + +When the wind comes up from Cuba +And the birds are on the wing, +And our hearts are patting juba +To the banjo of the spring, +Then it's no wonder whether +The boys will get together, +With a stein on the table and a cheer for everything. + +For we're all frank-and-twenty +When the spring is in the air; +And we've faith and hope a-plenty, +And we've life and love to spare; +And it's birds of a feather +When we all get together, +With a stein on the table and a heart without a care. + +For we know the world is glorious, +And the goal a golden thing, +And that God is not censorious +When his children have their fling; +And life slips its tether +When the boys get together, +With a stein on the table in the fellowship of spring. + + + + +THE UNSAINTING OF KAVIN. + + +Saint Kavin was a gentleman, +He came from Tipperary; +And woman was the only thing +That ever made him scary. + +For Kavin was a tender youth, +And he was very simple; +He feared the wiles of maiden smiles, +And fainted at a dimple. + +But when Kathleen at seventeen +Came down the street one morning, +The luck of man came over him +And took him without warning. + +Afraid to meet a foolish fate +By green sea or by dry land, +He fled away without delay +And sought a desert island. + +But even there he felt despair; +For happiness is only +The hope of doing something else; +And he was very lonely. + +He vowed to lead a life of prayer +Because that he had lost her; +And every time he thought of her +He said a _Pater noster_. + +Yet hard it is for man to change +The less love for the greater; +And every time he reached _Amen_, +He must go back to _Pater_. + +And so he grew a year or two +Disconsolate and holy, +While friends he'd known long since had grown +Papas and roly-poly. + +Until one day, one blessed day, +A-moping like a Hindoo, +He saw Kathleen in mournful mien +A-passing by his window. + +He threw away his rosary, +His _Paters_ and his _Aves_; +For love is stronger than the wind +That wafts a thousand navies. + +The holy man went forth to war, +But not against the devil. +He led the maid within for shade, +And treated her most civil. + +He gave her cakes, he gave her wine, +He set his best before her; +And then invited her to dine-- +Thenceforth--with her adorer. + +Her little head went round for joy; +She tried to kick the rafter: +So Kavin was a saint no more, +And happy ever after. + + + + +IN THE WAYLAND WILLOWS. + + +Once I met a soncy maid, +Soncy maid, soncy maid, +Once I met a soncy maid +In the Wayland willows. + +All her hair was goldy brown, +Goldy brown, goldy brown, +In the sun a single braid +To her waist hung down. + +Honey bees, honey bees, +You are roving fellows! +Idly went the doxy wind +In the Wayland willows. + +There I caught her eye a-dance, +Through the catkins downy. +"Heigho, Brownie-pate," said I; +"Heigho," said my Brownie. + +Then I kissed my soncy maid, +Soncy maid, soncy maid, +Kissed and kissed my soncy maid +In the Wayland willows. + +Goldy eyes and goldy hair, +And little gypsy bosom, +Chin and lip and shoulder tip, +Blossom after blossom! + +Hand in hand and cheek by cheek +All the morning weather! +How the yellow butterflies +Danced and winked together! + +Till the day went down the hill +Where the shadows waded. +"Heigho, Soncy!" "Heigho, me!" +Then I did as day did. + +All her tousled beauty bright +And teasing as before, +I left her there in sweet despair, +A soncy maid no more. + + + + +WHEN I WAS TWENTY. + + +_It was June, and I was twenty. +All my wisdom, poor but plenty, +Never learned_ Festina lente. +_Youth is gone, but whither went he?_ + +Madeline came down the orchard +With a mischief in her eye, +Half demure and half inviting, +Melting, wayward, wistful, shy. + +Four bright eyes that found life lovely, +And forgot to wonder why; +Four warm lips at one love-lesson, +Learned by heart so easily. + +We gained something of that knowledge +No man ever yet put by, +But his after days of sorrow +Left him nothing but to die. + +Madeline went up the orchard, +Down the hurrying world went I; +Now I know love has no morrow, +Happiness no by-and-by. + +_Youth is gone, but whither went he? +All my wisdom, poor but plenty, +Never learned_ Festina lente. +_It was June, and I was twenty._ + + + + +IN A SILENCE + + +Heart to heart! +And the stillness of night and the moonlight, like hushed breathing +Silently, stealthily moving across thy hair! + +O womanly face! +Tender and strong and lucent with infinite feeling, +Shrinking with startled joy, like wind-struck water, +And yet so frank, so unashamed of love! + +Ay, for there it is, love--that's the deepest. +Love's not love in the dark. +Light loves wither i' the sun, but Love endureth, +Clothing himself with the light as with a robe. + +I would bare my soul to thy sight-- +Leave not a secret deep unsearched, +Unrevealing its shame or its glory. +Love without Truth shall die as a soul without God. +A lying love is the love of a day +But the brave and true shall love forever. + +Build Love a house; +Let the walls be thick; +Shut him in from the sight of men; +But hide not Love from himself. + +Ah, the summer night! +The wind in the trees and the moonlight! +And my kisses on thy throat +And thy breathing in my hair! + +Silent, lips to lips! +But our souls have held speech, thought answering echoing thought, +Though the only words were kisses. + + + + +THE BATHER. + + +I saw him go down to the water to bathe; +He stood naked upon the bank. + +His breast was like a white cloud in the heaven, + that catches the sun; +It swelled with the sharp joy of the air. + +His legs rose with the spring and curve of young birches; +The hollow of his back caught the blue shadows: + +With his head thrown up to the lips of the wind; +And the curls of his forehead astir with the wind. + +I would that I were a man, they are so beautiful; +Their bodies are like the bows of the Indians; +They have the spring and the grace of bows of hickory. + +I know that women are beautiful, and that I am beautiful; +But the beauty of a man is so lithe and alive and triumphant, +Swift as the night of a swallow and sure as the + pounce of the eagle. + + + + +NOCTURNE: IN ANJOU. + + +I dreamed of Sappho on a summer night. +Her nightingales were singing in the trees +Beside the castled river; and the wind +Fell like a woman's fingers on my cheek. +And then I slept and dreamed and marked no change; +The night went on with me into my dream. +This only I remember, that I cried: +"O Sappho! ere I leave this paradise, +Sing me one song of those lost books of yours +For which we poets still go sorrowing; +That when I meet my fellows on the earth +I may rejoice them more than many pearls;" +And she, the sweetly smiling, answered me, +As one who dreams, "I have forgotten them." + + + + +NOCTURNE: IN PROVENCE. + + +The blue night, like an angel, came into the room,-- +Came through the open window from the silent sky +Down trellised stairs of moonlight into the dear room +As if a whisper breathed of some divine one nigh. +The nightingales, like brooks of song in Paradise, +Gurgled their serene rapture to the silent sky-- +Like springs of laughter bubbling up in Paradise, +The serene nightingales along the riverside +Purled low in every tree their star-cool melodies +Of joy--in every tree along the riverside. + +Did the vain garments melt in music from your side? +Did you rise from them as a lily flowers i' the air? +--But you were there before me like the Night's own bride-- +I dared not call you mine. So still and tall you were, +I never dreamed that you were mine--I never dreamed +I loved you--I forgot I loved you. You were air +And music, and the shadows that you stood in, seemed +Like priests that keep their sombre vigil round a shrine-- +Like sombre priests that watch about a glorious shrine. + +And then you stepped into the moonlight and laid bare +The wonder of your body to the night, and stood +With all the stars of heaven looking at you there, +As simply as a saint might bare her soul to God-- +As simply as a saint might bathe in lakes of prayer-- +Stood with the holy moonlight falling on you there +Until I thought that in a glory unaware +I had seen a soul stand forth and bare itself to God-- +A saintly soul lay bare its innocence to God. + + + + +JUNE NIGHT IN WASHINGTON. + + +The scent of honeysuckle, +Drugging the twilight +With its sweet opiate of lovers' dreams! +The last red glow of the setting sun +On the red brick wall +Of the neighboring house, +And the scramble of red roses over it! + +Slowly, slowly +The night smokes up from the city to the stars, +The faint foreshadowed stars; +The smouldering night +Breathes upward like the breath +Of a woman asleep +With dim breast rising and falling +And a smile of delicate dreams. + +Softly, softly +The wind comes into the garden, +Like a lover that fears lest he waken his love, +And his hands drip with the scent of the roses +And his locks weep with the opiate odor of honeysuckle. +Sighing, sighing +As a lover that yearns for the lips of his love, +In a torment of bliss, +In a passionate dreaming of bliss, +The wind in the trees of the garden! + +How intimate are the trees,-- +Rustling like the secret darkness of the soul! +How still is the starlight,-- +Aloof in the placidity of dream! + +Outside the garden +A group of negroes passing in the street +Sing with ripe lush voices, +Sing with voices that swim +Like great slow gliding fishes +Through the scent of the honeysuckle: + +_My love's waitin', +Waitin' by the river, +Waitin' till I come along! +Wait there, child; I'm comin'. + +Jay-bird tol' me, +Tol' me in the mornin', +Tol' me she'd be there to-night. +Wait there, child; I'm comin'._ + +Waves of dream! +Spell of the summer night! +Will of the grass that stirs in its sleep! +Desire of the honeysuckle! +And further away, +Like the plash of far-off waves in the fluid night, +The negroes, singing: + +_Whip-po'-will tol' me, +Tol' me in the evenin', +"Down by the bend where the cat-tails grow." +Wait there, child; I'm comin'._ + +Lo, the moon, +Like a galleon sailing the night; +And the wash of the moonlight over the roofs and the trees! + +Oh, my bride, +Come down from yonder lattice where you bide +Like a charmed princess in a Persian song! +I look up at your yellow window-panes, +Set in the night with far-off wizardry. +Come down, come down; the night is fain of you, +The garden waits your footstep on its walks. + +Lo, the moon, +Like a galleon sailing the night; +And the wash of the moonlight over the red brick wall and the roses! + +A gleam of lamplight through an open door! +A footfall like the wind's upon the grass! +A rustle like the wind's among the leaves!... +Dim as a dream of pale peach blooms of light, +Blue in the blue soft pallor of the moon, +She comes between the trees as a faint tune +Falls from a flute far off into the night.... +So Death might come to one who knew him Love. + + + + +A SONG FOR MARNA. + + +Dame of the night of hair +Like blue smoke blown! +World yet undreamed-of there +Lurks to be known. + +Dame of the dizzy eyes, +Lure of dim quests! +World of what midnights lies +Under thy breasts! + +Dame of the quench of love, +Give me to quaff! +There's all the world's made of +Under thy laugh. + +Dame of the dare of gods, +Let the sky lower! +Time, give the world for odds,-- +I choose this hour. + + + + +SEPTEMBER WOODLANDS. + + +This is not sadness in the wood; +The yellowbird +Flits joying through the solitude, +By no thought stirred +Save of his little duskier mate +And rompings jolly. + +If there's a Dryad in the wood, +She is not sad. +Too wise the spirits are to brood; +Divinely glad, +They dream with countenance sedate +Not melancholy. + + + + +NANCIBEL. + + +The ghost of a wind came over the hill, +While day for a moment forgot to die, +And stirred the sheaves +Of the millet leaves, +As Nancibel went by. + +Out of the lands of Long Ago, +Into the land of By and By, +Faded the gleam +Of a journeying dream, +As Nancibel went by. + + + + +A VAGABOND SONG. + + +There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood-- +Touch of manner, hint of mood; +And my heart is like a rhyme, +With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time. + +The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry +Of bugles going by. +And my lonely spirit thrills +To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills. + +There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir; +We must rise and follow her, +When from every hill of flame +She calls and calls each vagabond by name. + + + + +THREE OF A KIND. + + +Three of us without a care +In the red September +Tramping down the roads of Maine, +Making merry with the rain, +With the fellow winds a-fare +Where the winds remember. + +Three of us with shocking hats, +Tattered and unbarbered, +Happy with the splash of mud, +With the highways in our blood, +Bearing down on Deacon Platt's +Where last year we harbored. + +We've come down from Kennebec, +Tramping since last Sunday, +Loping down the coast of Maine, +With the sea for a refrain, +And the maples neck and neck +All the way to Fundy. + +Sometimes lodging in an inn, +Cosey as a dormouse-- +Sometimes sleeping on a knoll +With no rooftree but the Pole-- +Sometimes halely welcomed in +At an old-time farmhouse. + +Loafing under ledge and tree, +Leaping over boulders, +Sitting on the pasture bars, +Hail-fellow with storm or stars-- +Three of us alive and free, +With unburdened shoulders! + +Three of us with hearts like pine +That the lightnings splinter, +Clean of cleave and white of grain-- +Three of us afoot again, +With a rapture fresh and fine +As a spring in winter! + +All the hills are red and gold; +And the horns of vision +Call across the crackling air +Till we shout back to them there, +Taken captive in the hold +Of their bluff derision. + +Spray-salt gusts of ocean blow +From the rocky headlands; +Overhead the wild geese fly, +Honking in the autumn sky; +Black sinister flocks of crow +Settle on the dead lands. + +Three of us in love with life, +Roaming like wild cattle, +With the stinging air a-reel +As a warrior might feel +The swift orgasm of the knife +Slay him in mid-battle. + +Three of us to march abreast +Down the hills of morrow! +With a clean heart and a few +Friends to clench the spirit to!-- +Leave the gods to rule the rest, +And good-by, sorrow! + + + + +WOOD-FOLK LORE. To T. B. M. + + +For every one +Beneath the sun, +Where Autumn walks with quiet eyes, +There is a word, +Just overheard +When hill to purple hill replies. + +This afternoon, +As warm as June, +With the red apples on the bough, +I set my ear +To hark and hear +The wood-folk talking, you know how. + +There comes a "Hush!" +And then a "Tush," +As tree to scarlet tree responds, +"Babble away! +He'll not betray +The secrets of us vagabonds. + +"Are we not all, +Both great and small, +Cousins and kindred in a joy +No school can teach, +No worldling reach, +Nor any wreck of chance destroy?" + +And so we are, +However far +We journey ere the journey ends, +One brotherhood +With leaf and bud +And everything that wakes or wends. + +The wind that blows +My autumn rose +Where Grand Pré looks to Blomidon,-- +How great must be +The company +Of roses he has leaned upon, + +Since first he shed +Their petals red +Through Persian gardens long ago, +When Omar heard +His muttered word +Rumoring things we may not know! + +Our brother ghost, +He is a most +Incorrigible wanderer; +And still to-day +He takes his way +About my hills of spruce and fir; + +Will neither bide +By the great tide, +In apple lands of Acadie, +Nor in the leaves +About your eaves, +Where Scituate looks out to sea. + + + + +AT MICHAELMAS. + + +About the time of Michael's feast +And all his angels, +There comes a word to man and beast +By dark evangels. + +Then hearing what the wild things say +To one another, +Those creatures first born of our gray +Mysterious Mother, + +The greatness of the world's unrest +Steals through our pulses; +Our own life takes a meaning guessed +From the torn dulse's. + +The draft and set of deep sea-tides +Swirling and flowing, +Bears every filmy flake that rides, +Grandly unknowing. + +The sunlight listens; thin and fine +The crickets whistle; +And floating midges fill the shine +Like a seeding thistle. + +The hawkbit flies his golden flag +From rocky pasture, +Bidding his legions never lag +Through morning's vasture. + +Soon we shall see the red vines ramp +Through forest borders, +And Indian summer breaking camp +To silent orders. + +The glossy chestnuts swell and burst +Their prickly houses +Agog at news which reached them first +In sap's carouses. + +The long noons turn the ribstons red, +The pippins yellow; +The wild duck from his reedy bed +Summons his fellow. + +The robins keep the underbrush +Songless and wary, +As though they feared some frostier hush +Might bid them tarry; + +Perhaps in the great North they heard +Of silence falling +Upon the world without a word, +White and appalling. + +The ash-tree and the lady-fern, +In russet frondage, +Proclaim 'tis time for our return +To vagabondage. + +All summer idle have we kept; +But on a morning, +Where the blue hazy mountains slept, +A scarlet warning + +Disturbs our day-dream with a start; +A leaf turns over; +And every earthling is at heart +Once more a rover. + +All winter we shall toil and plod, +Eating and drinking; +But now's the little time when God +Sets folk to thinking. + +"Consider," says the quiet sun, +"How far I wander; +Yet when had I not time on one +More flower to squander?" + +"Consider," says the restless tide, +"My endless labor; +Yet when was I content beside +My nearest neighbor?" + +So wander-lust to wander-lure, +As seed to season, +Must rise and wend, possessed and sure +In sweet unreason. + +For doorstone and repose are good, +And kind is duty; +But joy is in the solitude +With shy-heart beauty. + +And Truth is one whose ways are meek +Beyond foretelling; +And far his journey who would seek +Her lowly dwelling. + +She leads him by a thousand heights, +Lonelily faring, +With sunrise and with eagle flights +To mate his daring. + +For her he fronts a vaster fog +Than Leif of yore did, +Voyaging for continents no log +Has yet recorded. + +He travels by a polar star, +Now bright, now hidden, +For a free land, though rest be far +And roads forbidden, + +Till on a day with sweet coarse bread +And wine she stays him, +Then in a cool and narrow bed +To slumber lays him. + +So we are hers. And, fellows mine +Of fin and feather, +By shady wood and shadowy brine, +When comes the weather + +For migrants to be moving on, +By lost indenture +You flock and gather and are gone: +The old adventure! + +I too have my unwritten date, +My gypsy presage; +And on the brink of fall I wait +The darkling message. + +The sign, from prying eyes concealed, +Is yet how flagrant! +Here's ragged-robin in the field, +A simple vagrant. + + + + +THE MOTHER OF POETS. To H. F. H. + + +The typewriter ticketh no more in the twilight; +The mother of poets is sitting alone; +Only the katydid teases the noonday; +Where are the good-for-naught wanderbirds flown? + +Tom's in the North with his purple impressions; +Dickon's in London a-building his fame; +Fred's in the mountains a-minding his cattle; +Kavanagh's teaching and preaching and game. + +Over in Kingscroft a toiler is writing, +The boyish Old Man whom no fate ever floored; +Karl's in New York with his briefs and his logic, +That subtile mind like a velvet-sheathed sword. + +Blomidon welcomes his brother in silence; +Grand Pré is luring him back to her breast; +Faint and far off are the cries of the city, +There in the country of infinite rest. + +All of them turn in their wide vagabondage, +Halt and remember a place they have known, +Where the typewriter ticketh no more in the twilight, +And the mother of poets is sitting alone. + +There they will surely some April forgather, +Drink once together before they depart, +One by one over the threshold of silence, +On the long trail of the wandering heart. + +Fear not, little mother, there may be a region +Where poets have only to smile and keep still. +The tick of the typewriter there will be useless, +But there will be need of a motherkin still. + + + + +A GOOD-BY. + + +For love of the roving foot +And joy of the roving eye, +God send you store of morrows fair +And a good rest by and by! + + + + +IN A COPY OF BROWNING. + + +Browning, old fellow, +Your leaves grow yellow, +Beginning to mellow +As seasons pass. +Your cover is wrinkled, +And stained and sprinkled, +And warped and crinkled +From sleep on the grass. + +Is it a wine stain, +Or only a pine stain, +That makes such a fine stain +On your dull blue,-- +Got as we numbered +The clouds that lumbered +Southward and slumbered +When day was through? + +What is the dear mark +There like an earmark, +Only a tear mark +A woman let fall?-- +As bending over +She bade me discover, +"Who _plays_ the lover, +He loses all!" + +With you for teacher +We learned love's feature +In every creature +That roves or grieves; +When winds were brawling, +Or bird-folk calling, +Or leaf-folk falling, +About our eaves. + +No law must straiten +The ways they wait in, +Whose spirits greaten +And hearts aspire. +The world may dwindle, +And summer brindle, +So love but kindle +The soul to fire. + +Here many a red line, +Or pencilled headline, +Shows love could wed line +To golden sense; +And something better +Than wisdom's fetter +Has made your letter +Dense to the dense. + +No April robin, +Nor clacking bobbin, +Can make of Dobbin +A Pegasus; +But Nature's pleading +To man's unheeding, +Your subtile reading +Made clear to us. + +You made us farers +And equal sharers +With homespun wearers +In home-made joys; +You made us princes +No plea convinces +That spirit winces +At dust and noise. + +When Fate was nagging, +And days were dragging, +And fancy lagging, +You gave it scope,-- +When eaves were drippy, +And pavements slippy,-- +From Lippo Lippi +To Evelyn Hope. + +When winter's arrow +Pierced to the marrow, +And thought was narrow, +You gave it room; +We guessed the warder +On Roland's border, +And helped to order +The Bishop's Tomb. + +When winds were harshish, +And ways were marshish, +We found with Karshish +Escape at need; +Were bold with Waring +In far seafaring, +And strong in snaring +Ben Ezra's creed. + +We felt the menace +Of lovers pen us, +Afloat in Venice +Devising fibs; +And little mattered +The rain that pattered, +While Blougram chattered +To Gigadibs. + +And we too waited +With heart elated +And breathing bated, +For Pippa's song; +Saw Satan hover, +With wings to cover +Porphyria's lover, +Pompilia's wrong. + +Long thoughts were started, +When youth departed +From the half-hearted +Riccardi's bride; +For, saith your fable, +Great Love is able +To slip the cable +And take the tide. + +Or truth compels us +With Paracelsus, +Till nothing else is +Of worth at all. +Del Sarto's vision +Is our own mission, +And art's ambition +Is God's own call. + +Through all the seasons, +You gave us reasons +For splendid treasons +To doubt and fear; +Bade no foot falter, +Though weaklings palter, +And friendships alter +From year to year. + +Since first I sought you, +Found you and bought you, +Hugged you and brought you +Home from Cornhill, +While some upbraid you, +And some parade you, +Nine years have made you +My master still. + + + + +SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF: FOR THE UNVEILING +OF MR. PARTRIDGE'S STATUE +OF THE POET. + + +The body is no prison where we lie +Shut out from our true heritage of sun; +It is the wings wherewith the soul may fly. +Save through this flesh so scorned and spat upon, +No ray of light had reached the caverned mind, +No thrill of pleasure through the life had run, +No love of nature or of humankind, +Were it but love of self, had stirred the heart +To its first deed. Such freedom as we find, +We find but through its service, not apart. +And as an eagle's wings upbear him higher +Than Andes or Himalaya, and chart +Rivers and seas beneath; so our desire, +With more celestial members yet, may soar +Into the space of empyrean fire, +Still bodied but more richly than before. + +The body is the man; what lurks behind +Through it alone unveils itself. Therefore +We are not wrong, who seek to keep in mind +The form and feature of the mighty dead. +So back of all the giving is divined +The giver, back of all things done or said +The man himself in elemental speech +Of flesh and bone and sinew utterčd. + +This is thy language, Sculpture. Thine to reach +Beneath all thoughts, all feelings, all desires, +To that which thinks and lives and loves, and teach +The world the primal selfhood of its sires, +Its heroes and its lovers and its gods. +So shall Apollo flame in marble fires, +The mien of Zeus suffice before he nods, +So Gautama in ivory dream out +The calm of Time's untrammelled periods, +So Sigurd's lips be in themselves a shout. + +Mould us our Shakespeare, sculptor, in the form +His comrades knew, rare Ben and all the rout +That found the taproom of the Mermaid warm +With wit and wine and fellowship, the face +Wherein the men he chummed with found a charm +To make them love him; carve for us the grace +That caught Anne Hathaway in Shottery-side, +The hand that clasped Southampton's in the days +Ere that dark dame, of passion and of pride +Burned in his heart the brand of her disdain, +The eyes that wept when little Hamnet died, +The lips that learned from Marlowe's and again +Taught riper lore to Fletcher and the rest, +The presence and demeanor sovereign +At last at Stratford calm and manifest, +That rested on the seventh day and scanned +His work and knew it good, and left the quest +And like his own enchanter broke his wand. + +No viewless mind! The very shape, no less, +He used to speak and smile with, move and stand! +God is most God not in his loneliness, +Unfellowed, discreationed, unrevealed, +Nor thundering on Sinai, pitiless, +Nor when the seven vials are unsealed, +But when his spirit companions with our thought +And in his fellowship our pain is healed; +And we are likest God when we are brought +Most near to all men. Bring us near to him, +The gentle, human soul whose calm might wrought +Imperious Lear and made our eyes grow dim +For Imogen,--who, though he heard the spheres +"Still choiring to the young-eyed cherubim," +Could laugh with Falstaff and his loose compeers +And love the rascal with the same big heart +That o'er Cordelia could not stay its tears. + +For still the man is greater than his art. +And though thy men and women, Shakespeare, rise +Like giants in our fancy and depart, +Thyself art more than all their masteries, +Thy wisdom more than Hamlet's questionings +Or the cold searching of Ulysses' eyes, +Thy mirth more sweet than Benedick's flouts and flings, +Thy smiling dearer than Mercutio's, +Thy dignity past that of all thy kings, +And thy enchantment more than Prospero's. + +For thou couldst not have had Othello's flaw, +Not erred with Brutus,--greater, then, than those +For all their nobleness. Oh, albeit with awe, +Leave we the mighty phantoms and draw near +The man that fashioned them and gave them law! +The Master Poet found with scarce a peer +In all the ages his domain to share, +Yet of all singers gentlest and most dear! +Oh, how shall words thy proper praise declare, +Divine in thy supreme humanity +And near as the inevitable air? + +So he that wrought this image deemed of thee; +So I, thy lover, keep thee in my heart; +So may this figure set for men to see +Where the world passes eager for the mart, +Be as a sudden insight of the soul +That makes a darkness into order start, +And lift thee up for all men, fair and whole, +Till scholar, merchant farmer, artisan, +Seeing, divine beneath the aureole +The fellow heart and know thee for a man. + + + + +AT THE ROAD-HOUSE: IN MEMORY OF +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +You hearken, fellows? Turned aside +Into the road-house of the past! +The prince of vagabonds is gone +To house among his peers at last. + +The stainless gallant gentleman, +So glad of life, he gave no trace, +No hint he even once beheld +The spectre peering in his face; + +But gay and modest held the road, +Nor feared the Shadow of the Dust; +And saw the whole world rich with joy, +As every valiant farer must. + +I think that old and vasty inn +Will have a welcome guest to-night, +When Chaucer, breaking off some tale +That fills his hearers with delight, + +Shall lift up his demure brown eyes +To bid the stranger in; and all +Will turn to greet the one on whom +The crystal lot was last to fall. + +Keats of the more than mortal tongue +Will take grave Milton by the sleeve +To meet their kin, whose woven words +Had elvish music in the weave. + +Dear Lamb and excellent Montaigne, +Sterne and the credible Defoe, +Borrow, DeQuincey, the great Dean, +The sturdy leisurist Thoreau; + +The furtive soul whose dark romance, +By ghostly door and haunted stair, +Explored the dusty human heart +And the forgotten garrets there; + +The moralist it could not spoil, +To hold an empire in his hands; +Sir Walter, and the brood who sprang +From Homer through a hundred lands, + +Singers of songs on all men's lips, +Tellers of tales in all men's ears, +Movers of hearts that still must beat +To sorrows feigned and fabled tears; + +Horace and Omar, doubting still +What mystery lurks beyond the seen, +Yet blithe and reassured before +That fine unvexed Virgilian mien; + +These will companion him to-night, +Beyond this iron wintry gloom, +When Shakespeare and Cervantes bid +The great joy-masters give him room. + +No alien there in speech or mood, +He will pass in, one traveller more; +And portly Ben will smile to see +The velvet jacket at the door. + + + + +VERLAINE. + + +Avid of life and love, insatiate vagabond, +With quest too furious for the graal he would have won, +He flung himself at the eternal sky, as one +Wrenching his chains but impotent to burst the bond. + +Yet under the revolt, the revel, the despond, +What pools of innocence, what crystal benison! +As through a riven mist that glowers in the sun, +A stretch of God's blue calm glassed in a virgin pond. + +Prowler of obscene streets that riot reek along, +And aisles with incense numb and gardens mad with rose, +Monastic cells and dreams of dim brocaded lawns, + +Death, which has set the calm of Time upon his song, +Surely upon his soul has kissed the same repose +In some fair heaven the Christ has set apart for Fauns. + + + + +DISTILLATION. + + +They that eat the uncrushed grape +Walk with steady heels: +Lo, now, how they stare and gape +Where the poet reels! +He has drunk the sheer divine +Concentration of the vine. + + + + +A FRIEND'S WISH. To C. W. S. + + +Give me your last _Aloha_, +When I go out of sight, +Over the dark rim of the sea +Into the Polar night! + +And all the Northland give you +_Skoal_ for the voyage begun, +When your bright summer sail goes down +Into the zones of sun! + + + + +LAL OF KILRUDDEN. + + +Kilrudden ford, Kilrudden dale, +Kilrudden fronting every gale +On the lorn coast of Inishfree, +And Lal's last bed the plunging sea. + +Lal of Kilrudden with flame-red hair, +And the sea-blue eyes that rove and dare, +And the open heart with never a care; +With her strong brown arms and her ankles bare, +God in heaven, but she was fair, +That night the storm put in from sea? + +The nightingales of Inishkill, +The rose that climbed her window-sill, +The shade that rustled or was still, +The wind that roved and had his will, +And one white sail on the low sea-hill, +Were all she knew of love. + +So when the storm drove in that day, +And her lover's ship on the ledges lay, +Past help and wrecking in the gray, +And the cry was, "Who'll go down the bay, +With half of the lifeboat's crew away?" +Who should push to the front and say, +"I will be one, be others who may," +But Lal of Kilrudden, born at sea! + +The nightingales all night in the rain, +The rose that fell at her window-pane, +The frost that blackened the purple plain, +And the scorn of pitiless disdain +At the hands of the wolfish pirate main, +Quelling her great hot heart in vain, +Were all she knew of death. + +Kilrudden ford, Kilrudden dale, +Kilrudden ruined in the gale +That wrecked the coast of Inishfree, +And Lal's last bed the plunging sea. + + + + +HUNTING-SONG: FROM "KING ARTHUR." + + +Oh, who would stay indoor, indoor, +When the horn is on the hill? (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +With the crisp air stinging, and the huntsmen singing, +And a ten-tined buck to kill! + +Before the sun goes down, goes down, +We shall slay the buck of ten; (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +And the priest shall say benison, and we shall ha'e venison, +When we come home again. + +Let him that loves his ease, his ease, +Keep close and house him fair; (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +He'll still be a stranger to the merry thrill of danger +And the joy of the open air. + +But he that loves the hills, the hills, +Let him come out to-day! (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +For the horses are neighing, and the hounds are baying, +And the hunt's up, and away! + + + + +BUIE ANNAJOHN. + + +Buie Annajohn was the king's black mare, +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn! +Satin was her coat and silk was her hair, +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +March with the white moon, march with the sun, +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn! + +Buie Annajohn, when the dew lay hoar, +(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!) +Down through the meadowlands went to war,-- +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +March by the river road, march by the dune, +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn! + +Buie Annajohn had the heart of flame, +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn! +First of the hosts to the hostings came +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +March till we march the red sun down, +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn! + +Back from the battle at the close of day, +(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!) +Came with the war cheers, came with a neigh, +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +Oh, heavy was the sword that we laid on; +But half of the heave was Buie Annajohn, +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn! + + + + +MARY OF MARKA. + + +Eric of Marka holds the knife: +"A nameless death for a nameless life."-- + +"Mary of Marka, bid him stay, +And the morrow shall be our wedding-day."-- + +"Will the blessing of priest give back my faith, +Or life to the child you left to death?"-- + +Eric of Marka holds the knife, +And turns to the mother that is no wife: + +"Mary of Marka, have your will! +Shall I spare him, or shall I kill?"-- + +"He wrought me wrong when the days were sweet, +And he'll get no more but a winding-sheet." + + + + +PREMONITION. + + +He said, "Good-night, my heart is light, +To-morrow morn at day +We two together in the dew +Shall forth and fare away. + +"We shall go down, the halls of dawn +To find the doors of joy; +We shall not part again, dear heart." +And he laughed out like a boy. + +He turned and strode down the blue road +Against the western sky +Where the last line of sunset glowed +As sullen embers die. + +The night reached out her kraken arms +To clutch him as he passed, +And for one sudden moment +My soul shrank back aghast. + + + + +THE HEARSE-HORSE. + + +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin, +"What the devil have you there? +I may trot from court to square, +Yet it neither swears nor groans, +When I jolt it over stones." +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse, +"Bones!" + +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin, +"What the devil have you there, +With that purple frozen stare? +Where the devil has it been +To get that shadow grin?" +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse, +"Skin!" + +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin, +"What the devil have you there? +It has fingers, it has hair; +Yet it neither kicks nor squirms +At the undertaker's terms." +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse, +"Worms!" + + + + +THE NIGHT-WASHERS. + + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the brothers of ghouls, and who +In the name of the Crooked Saints are you? + +We are the washers of shrouds wherein +The lovers of beauty who sainted sin +Sleep till the Judgment Day begin. + +When the moon is drifting overhead, +We wash the linen of the dead, +Stained with yellow and stiff with red. + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the foul night-washers, and who, +By the Seven Lovely sins are you? + +Here we sit by the river reeds, +Rinsing the linen that reeks and bleeds, +And craving the help our labor needs. + +Come, Sir Fop, fall to, fall to! +Show us for once what you can do! +One day there'll be washing enough for you. + +Wade in, wade in, where the river runs +Clear in the moonlight over the stones! +It'll wash the ache from your scrofulous bones. + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the gossips of fame, and who +By the Sinners' Litany are you? + +Wade in, wade in! The water is cold, +The stains are deep, and the linen is old; +But surely the sons of the town are bold! + +Work for us here till the break of day +At washing the stains of the dead away, +And you shall be merry, come what may! + +From now till your ninetieth year begins, +You shall sin the Seven Lovely sins, +While wearing the virtue a cardinal wins. + +Refuse, and your arms shall be broken and wried, +To dangle like fenders over the side +Of an empty ship on the harbor tide! + +They shall gather a waist in their grip no more, +As you wander the wide world over and o'er, +With the curs at your heels from door to door. + +With only a stranger to cover your face, +You shall die in the streets of an outcast race, +And your linen be washed in the market-place! + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the Scavenger Saints, but who +In the name of the Shadowy Kin are you? + + + + +MR. MOON: A SONG OF THE LITTLE +PEOPLE. + + +O Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? +Down on the hilltop, +Down in the glen, +Out in the clearin', +To play with little men? +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Hurry up your stumps! +Don't you hear Bullfrog +Callin' to his wife, +And old black Cricket +A-wheezin' at his fife? +Hurry up your stumps, +And get on your pumps! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Hurry up along! +The reeds in the current +Are whisperin' slow; +The river's a-wimplin' +To and fro. +Or you'll miss the song! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're all here! +Honey-bug, Thistledrift, +White-imp, Weird, +Wryface, Billiken, +Quidnunc, Queered; +We're all here, +And the coast is clear! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're the little men! +Dewlap, Pussymouse, +Ferntip, Freak, +Drink-again, Shambler, +Talkytalk, Squeak; +Three times ten +Of us little men! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're all ready! +Tallenough, Squaretoes, +Amble, Tip, +Buddybud, Heigho, +Little black Pip; +We're all ready, +And the wind walks steady! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're thirty score; +Yellowbeard, Piper, +Lieabed, Toots, +Meadowbee, Moonboy, +Bully-in-boots; +Three times more +Than thirty score. +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Keep your eye peeled; +Watch out to windward, +Or you'll miss the fun, +Down by the acre +Where the wheat-waves run; +Keep your eye peeled +For the open field. +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +There's not much time! +Hurry, if you're comin', +You lazy old bones! +You can sleep to-morrow +While the Buzbuz drones; +There's not much time +Till the church bells chime. +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Just see the clover! +Soon we'll be going +Where the Gray Goose went +When all her money +Was spent, spent, spent! +Down through the clover, +When the revel's over! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? +Down where the Good Folk +Dance in a ring, +Down where the Little Folk +Sing? +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + + + + +HEM AND HAW. + + +Hem and Haw were the sons of sin, +Created to shally and shirk; +Hem lay 'round and Haw looked on +While God did all the work. + +Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a prig, +For both had the dull, dull mind; +And whenever they found a thing to do, +They yammered and went it blind. + +Hem was the father of bigots and bores; +As the sands of the sea were they. +And Haw was the father of all the tribe +Who criticise to-day. + +But God was an artist from the first, +And knew what he was about; +While over his shoulder sneered these two, +And advised him to rub it out. + +They prophesied ruin ere man was made: +"Such folly must surely fail!" +And when he was done, "Do you think, my Lord, +He's better without a tail?" + +And still in the honest working world, +With posture and hint and smirk, +These sons of the devil are standing by +While Man does all the work. + +They balk endeavor and baffle reform, +In the sacred name of law; +And over the quavering voice of Hem +Is the droning voice of Haw. + + + + +ACCIDENT IN ART. + + +That painter has not with a careless smutch +Accomplished his despair?--one touch revealing +All he had put of life, thought, vigor, feeling, +Into the canvas that without that touch +Showed of his love and labor just so much +Raw pigment, scarce a scrap of soul concealing! +What poet has not found his spirit kneeling +A sudden at the sound of such or such +Strange verses staring from his manuscript, +Written he knows not how, but which will sound +Like trumpets down the years? So Accident +Itself unmasks the likeness of Intent, +And ever in blind Chance's darkest crypt +The shrine-lamp of God's purposing is found. + + + + +IN A GARDEN. + + +Thought is a garden wide and old +For airy creatures to explore, +Where grow the great fantastic flowers +With truth for honey at the core. + +There like a wild marauding bee +Made desperate by hungry fears, +From gorgeous _If_ to dark _Perhaps_ +I blunder down the dusk of years. + + + + +AT THE END OF THE DAY. + + +There is no escape by the river, +There is no flight left by the fen; +We are compassed about by the shiver +Of the night of their marching men. +Give a cheer! +For our hearts shall not give way. +Here's to a dark to-morrow, +And here's to a brave to-day! + +The tale of their hosts is countless, +And the tale of ours a score; +But the palm is naught to the dauntless, +And the cause is more and more. +Give a cheer! +We may die, but not give way. +Here's to a silent morrow, +And here's to a stout to-day! + +God has said: "Ye shall fail and perish; +But the thrill ye have felt to-night +I shall keep in my heart and cherish +When the worlds have passed in night." +Give a cheer! +For the soul shall not give way. +Here's to the greater to-morrow +That is born of a great to-day! + +Now shame on the craven truckler +And the puling things that mope! +We've a rapture for our buckler +That outwears the wings of hope. +Give a cheer! +For our joy shall not give way. +Here's in the teeth of to-morrow +To the glory of to-day! + + + + +THIS BOOK WAS PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON +AND SON, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, +MASSACHUSETTS, DURING OCTOBER, +1896. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of More Songs From Vagabondia, by +Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA *** + +***** This file should be named 18007-8.txt or 18007-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/0/18007/ + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Paul Motsuk and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + +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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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: More Songs From Vagabondia + +Author: Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey + +Release Date: March 17, 2006 [EBook #18007] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Paul Motsuk and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + +</pre> + +<p class="center"> +<a id="page_i"></a> +<span class="giant">MORE SONGS</span><br /> +<span class="larger">FROM</span><br /> +<span class="giant">VAGABONDIA</span> +</p> + +<div class="larger"><p class="center">Bliss Carman<br /> +Richard Hovey</p></div> + +<p class="center">Designs by<br /> +<span class="larger">Tom B. Meteyard</span></p> + +<p class="center">Boston: Copeland and Day<br /> +London: Elkin Mathews</p> + +<p class="center">MDCCCXCVI</p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="copyright"> +<a id="page_ii"></a> +COPYRIGHT, 1896,<br /> +BY BLISS CARMAN AND RICHARD HOVEY.</p> +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><a id="page_iii"></a> +<i>To M. G. M., so good to lighten cares,<br /> +The boys inscribe this second book of theirs.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<h2>CONTENTS.<a id="page_vii"></a></h2> +<div class="toc"> + + +<ul> +<li><a href="#JONGLEURS">JONGLEURS</a></li> +<li><a href="#EARTHS_LYRIC">EARTH'S LYRIC</a></li> +<li><a href="#WOOD-GOD">THE WOOD-GOD</a></li> +<li><a href="#FAUNS_SONG">A FAUN'S SONG</a></li> +<li><a href="#QUINCE_TO_LILAC">QUINCE TO LILAC</a></li> +<li><a href="#EASTER_MARKET">AN EASTER MARKET</a></li> +<li><a href="#DAISIES">DAISIES</a></li> +<li><a href="#MOCKING-BIRD">THE MOCKING-BIRD</a></li> +<li><a href="#KARLENE_1">KARLENE</a></li> +<li><a href="#KARLENE_2">KARLENE</a></li> +<li><a href="#CONCERNING_KAVIN">CONCERNING KAVIN</a></li> +<li><a href="#KAVIN_AGAIN">KAVIN AGAIN</a></li> +<li><a href="#ACROSS_THE_TABLE">ACROSS THE TABLE</a></li> +<li><a href="#BARNEY_MCGEE">BARNEY MCGEE</a></li> +<li><a href="#SEA_GYPSY">THE SEA GYPSY</a></li> +<li><a href="#SPEECH_AND_SILENCE">SPEECH AND SILENCE</a></li> +<li><a href="#SECRETS">SECRETS</a></li> +<li><a href="#FIRST_JULEP">THE FIRST JULEP</a></li> +<li><a href="#STEIN_SONG">A STEIN SONG</a></li> +<li><a href="#UNSAINTING_OF_KAVIN">THE UNSAINTING OF KAVIN</a></li> +<li><a href="#WAYLAND_WILLOWS">IN THE WAYLAND WILLOWS</a></li> +<li><a href="#WHEN_I_WAS_TWENTY">WHEN I WAS TWENTY</a></li> +<li><a href="#SILENCE">IN A SILENCE</a></li> +<li><a href="#BATHER">THE BATHER</a></li> +<li><a href="#IN_ANJOU">NOCTURNE: IN ANJOU</a></li> +<li><a href="#IN_PROVENCE">NOCTURNE: IN PROVENCE</a></li> +<li><a href="#JUNE_NIGHT_IN_WASHINGTON">JUNE NIGHT IN WASHINGTON</a></li> +<li><a href="#SONG_FOR_MARNA">A SONG FOR MARNA</a></li> +<li><a href="#SEPTEMBER_WOODLANDS">SEPTEMBER WOODLANDS</a></li> +<li><a href="#NANCIBEL">NANCIBEL</a></li> +<li><a href="#VAGABOND_SONG">A VAGABOND SONG</a></li> +<li><a href="#THREE_OF_A_KIND">THREE OF A KIND</a></li> +<li><a href="#WOOD-FOLK_LORE">WOOD-FOLK LORE</a></li> +<li><a href="#MICHAELMAS">AT MICHAELMAS</a></li> +<li><a id="page_viii"></a><a href="#MOTHER_OF_POETS">THE MOTHER OF POETS</a></li> +<li><a href="#GOOD-BY">A GOOD-BY</a></li> +<li><a href="#BROWNING">IN A COPY OF BROWNING</a></li> +<li><a href="#SHAKESPEARE">SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF</a></li> +<li><a href="#ROAD-HOUSE">AT THE ROAD-HOUSE</a></li> +<li><a href="#VERLAINE">VERLAINE</a></li> +<li><a href="#DISTILLATION">DISTILLATION</a></li> +<li><a href="#FRIENDS_WISH">A FRIEND'S WISH</a></li> +<li><a href="#LAL_OF_KILRUDDEN">LAL OF KILRUDDEN</a></li> +<li><a href="#HUNTING-SONG">HUNTING-SONG</a></li> +<li><a href="#BUIE_ANNAJOHN">BUIE ANNAJOHN</a></li> +<li><a href="#MARY_OF_MARKA">MARY OF MARKA</a></li> +<li><a href="#PREMONITION">PREMONITION</a></li> +<li><a href="#HEARSE-HORSE">THE HEARSE-HORSE</a></li> +<li><a href="#NIGHT-WASHERS">THE NIGHT-WASHERS</a></li> +<li><a href="#MR_MOON">MR. MOON</a></li> +<li><a href="#HEM_AND_HAW">HEM AND HAW</a></li> +<li><a href="#ACCIDENT_IN_ART">ACCIDENT IN ART</a></li> +<li><a href="#GARDEN">IN A GARDEN</a></li> +<li><a href="#END_OF_THE_DAY">AT THE END OF THE DAY</a></li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page001"></a> +<p class="right"> +<i>And ever with the vanguard<br /> + The vagrant singers come<br /> + The gamins of the city<br /> +Who dance before the drum</i><br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="JONGLEURS"></a>JONGLEURS.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +What is the stir in the street?<br /> +Hurry of feet!<br /> +And after,<br /> +A sound as of pipes and of tabers!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Men of the conflicts and labors,<br /> +Struggling and shifting and shoving,<br /> +Pushing and pounding your neighbors,<br /> +Fighting for leeway for laughter,<br /> +Toiling for leisure for loving!<br /> +Hark, through the window and up to the rafter,<br /> +Madder and merrier,<br /> +Deeper and verier,<br /> +Sweeter, contrarier,<br /> +Dafter and dafter,<br /> +A song arises,--<br /> +A thrill, an intrusion,<br /> +A reel, an illusion,<br /> +A rapture, a crisis<br /> +Of bells in the air!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Ay, up from your work and look out of the window!<br /> +"Who are the newcomers, Arab or Hindoo?<br /> +Persians, or Japs, or the children of Isis?"<br /> +--Guesses, surmises--<br /> +Forth with you, fare<br /> +Down in the street to draw nearer and stare!<br /> +Come from your palaces, come from your hovels!<br /> +Lay down your ledgers, your picks and your shovels,<br /> +Your trowels and bricks,<br /> +<a id="page002"></a> +Hammers and nails,<br /> +Scythes and flails,<br /> +Bargains and sales,<br /> +And the trader's tricks,<br /> +Deals, overreachings,<br /> +Worries and griefs,<br /> +Teachings and preachings,<br /> +Boluses, briefs,<br /> +Writs and attachments,<br /> +Quarterings, hatchments,<br /> +Clans and cognomens,<br /> +Comments and scholia,<br /> +(World's melancholia)--<br /> +Cast them aside, and good riddance to rubbish!<br /> +Here at the street-corner, hearken, a strain,<br /> +Rough and off-hand and a bit rub-a-dub-ish,<br /> +Gives us a taste of the life we'd attain.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Who are they, what are they, whence have they come to us?<br /> +Where will they go.when their singing is done?<br /> +What is the garb they wear, tattered and sumptuous,<br /> +Faded with days and superb in the sun?<br /> +What are they singing of?<br /> +Hush!<br /> +... There's a ringing of<br /> +Delicate chimes;<br /> +And the blush<br /> +Of a veiled bride morning<br /> +Beats in the rhymes.<br /> +Listen!<br /> +Out of the merriment,<br /> +Clear as the glisten<br /> +Of dew on the brier,<br /> +A silver warning!<br /> +<a id="page003"></a> +Sudden, a dare--<br /> +Lyric experiment--<br /> +Up like a lark in the air,<br /> +Higher and higher and higher,<br /> +The song shoots out of our blunder<br /> +Of thought to the blue sky of wonder,<br /> +And broken strains only fall down<br /> +Like pearls on the roofs of the town.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Somebody says they have come from the moon,<br /> +Seen with their eyes Eldorado,<br /> +Sat in the Bo-tree's shadow,<br /> +Wandered at noon<br /> +In the valleys of Van,<br /> +Tented in Lebanon, tarried in Ophir,<br /> +Last year in Tartary piped for the Khan.<br /> +Now it's the song of a lover;<br /> +Now it's the lilt of a loafer,--<br /> +Under the trees in a midsummer noon,<br /> +Dreaming the haze into isles to discover,<br /> +Beating the silences into a croon;<br /> +Soon<br /> +Up from the marshes a fall of the plover!<br /> +Out from the cover<br /> +A flurry of quail!<br /> +Down from the height where the slow hawks hover,<br /> +The thin far ghost of a hail!<br /> +And near, and near,<br /> +Throbbing and tingling,--<br /> +With a human cheer<br /> +In the earth-song mingling,--<br /> +Mirth and carousal,<br /> +Wooing, espousal,<br /> +Clinking of glasses<br /> +And laughter of lasses--<br /> +<a id="page004"></a> +And the wind in the garden stoops down as it passes<br /> +To play with the hair<br /> +Of the loveliest there,<br /> +And the wander-lust catches the will in its snare;<br /> +Hill-wind and spray-lure,<br /> +Call of the heath;<br /> +Dare in the teeth<br /> +Of the balk and the failure;<br /> +The clasp and the linger<br /> +Of loosening finger,<br /> +Loth to dissever;<br /> +Thrill of the comrade heart to its fellow<br /> +Through droughts that sicken and blasts that bellow<br /> +From purple furrow to harvest yellow,<br /> +Now and forever.<br /> +How our feet itch to keep time to their measure!<br /> +How our hearts lift to the lilt of their song!<br /> +Let the world go, for a day's royal pleasure!<br /> +Not every summer such waifs come along.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Now they are off to the inn;<br /> +Hear the clean ring of their laughter!<br /> +Cool as a hill-brook after<br /> +The beat of the noon sets in!<br /> +Gentlemen even in jollity--<br /> +Certainly people of quality!--<br /> +Waifs and estrays no less,<br /> +Roofless and penniless,<br /> +They are the wayside strummers<br /> +Whose lips are man's renown,<br /> +Those wayward brats of Summer's<br /> +Who stroll from town to town;<br /> +Spendthrift of life, they ravish<br /> +The days of an endless store,<br /> +<a id="page005"></a> +And ever the more they lavish<br /> +The heap of the hoard is more.<br /> +For joy and love and vision<br /> +Are alive and breed and stay<br /> +When dust shall hold in derision<br /> +The misers of a day.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="EARTHS_LYRIC"></a>EARTH'S LYRIC.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +April. You hearken, my fellow,<br /> +Old slumberer down in my heart?<br /> +There's a whooping of ice in the rivers;<br /> +The sap feels a start.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The snow-melted torrents are brawling;<br /> +The hills, orange-misted and blue,<br /> +Are touched with the voice of the rainbird<br /> +Unsullied and new.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The houses of frost are deserted,<br /> +Their slumber is broken and done,<br /> +And empty and pale are the portals<br /> +Awaiting the sun.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The bands of Arcturus are slackened;<br /> +Orion goes forth from his place<br /> +On the slopes of the night, leading homeward<br /> +His hound from the chase.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The Pleiades weary and follow<br /> +The dance of the ghostly dawn;<br /> +The revel of silence is over;<br /> +Earth's lyric comes on.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page006"></a> +A golden flute in the cedars,<br /> +A silver pipe in the swales,<br /> +And the slow large life of the forest<br /> +Wells bade and prevails.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +A breath of the woodland spirit<br /> +Has blown out the bubble of spring<br /> +To this tenuous hyaline glory<br /> +One touch sets a-wing.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="WOOD-GOD"></a>THE WOOD-GOD.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Brother, lost brother!<br /> +Thou of mine ancient kin!<br /> +Thou of the swift will that no ponderings smother!<br /> +The dumb life in me fumbles out to the shade<br /> +Thou lurkest in.<br /> +In vain--evasive ever through the glade<br /> +Departing footsteps fail;<br /> +And only where the grasses have been pressed,<br /> +Or by snapped twigs I follow a fruitless trail.<br /> +So--give o'er the quest!<br /> +Sprawl on the roots and moss!<br /> +Let the lithe garter squirm across my throat!<br /> +Let the slow clouds and leaves above me float<br /> +Into mine eyeballs and across,--<br /> +Nor think them further! Lo, the marvel! now,<br /> +Thou whom my soul desireth, even thou<br /> +Sprawl'st by my side, who fled'st at my pursuit.<br /> +I hear thy fluting; at my shoulder there<br /> +I see the sharp ears through the tangled hair,<br /> +And birds and bunnies at thy music mute.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page007"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="FAUNS_SONG"></a>A FAUN'S SONG.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Cool! cool! cool!<br /> +Cool and sweet<br /> +The feel of the moss at my feet!<br /> +And sweet and cool<br /> +The touch of the wind, of the wind!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Cool wind out of the blue,<br /> +At the touch of you<br /> +A little wave crinkles and flows<br /> +All over me down to my toes.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Coo-loo! Coo-loo!"<br /> +Hear the doves in the tree-tops croon.<br /> +"Coo-loo! Coo-loo!"<br /> +Love comes soon.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"June! June!"<br /> +The veery sings,<br /> +Sings and sings,<br /> +"June! June!"--<br /> +A pretty tune!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Wind with your weight of perfume,<br /> +Bring me the bluebells' bloom!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="QUINCE_TO_LILAC"></a>QUINCE TO LILAC: +<span class="sc">To G. H.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Dear <i>Lilac</i>, how enchanting<br /> +To hear of you this way!<br /> +The Man who comes a-mouching<br /> +To visit me each day<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Says you too have a lover<br /> +Far lovelier than I.<br /> +<a id="page008"></a> +And from his rapt description,<br /> +She loves you gloriously.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The Man prowls out each morning<br /> +To see if spring's begun.<br /> +What infinite amusement<br /> +These creatures offer one!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +He asks me such conundrums<br /> +As no one ever heard:<br /> +The name of April's father,<br /> +The trail of every bird,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +What keeps me warm in winter,<br /> +Who wakes me up in time,<br /> +And why procrastination<br /> +Is such a fearful crime.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And yet, who knows? He may be<br /> +Our equal ages hence--<br /> +With such pathetic glimmers<br /> +Of weird intelligence!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But this your blessed alien,<br /> +Why strays she roving here?<br /> +Was Orpheus not her brother,<br /> +Persephone her peer?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Was she not once a dryad<br /> +Whom Syrinx lulled to sleep<br /> +Beside the Dorian water,<br /> +And still her eyelids keep<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The glad unperished secret<br /> +From centuries of joy,<br /> +And memories of the morning<br /> +When Helen sailed for Troy?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page009"></a> +Is her name Gertrude, Kitty,<br /> +Hypatia, or what?<br /> +I seem to half remember,<br /> +And yet have quite forgot.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +That soft Hellenic laughter!<br /> +I marvel you don't make<br /> +An effort to be early<br /> +In budding for her sake.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Just fancy hearing daily<br /> +That velvet voice of hers!<br /> +How do you quell the riot<br /> +Of sap her coming stirs?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Perhaps she puts her face up,<br /> +(Dear Charity she is!)<br /> +For messages of summer<br /> +And better worlds than this.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +You cannot blush, poor Lilac;<br /> +It is not in your race.<br /> +I simply should go crimson,<br /> +If I were in your place.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Do tell her all your secrets!<br /> +The Man declares she knows<br /> +Better than any mortal<br /> +The wonder-trick of prose.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<i>Our</i> prose, I mean,--how beauty<br /> +Appears to you and me;<br /> +The truth that seems so simple,<br /> +Which they call poetry.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +They put it down in writing<br /> +And label it with tags,<br /> +<a id="page010"></a> +The funny conscious people<br /> +Who mask in colored rags!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +They have a thing called <i>science</i>,<br /> +With phrases strange and pat.<br /> +My dear, can you imagine<br /> +Intelligence like that?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And when they first discover<br /> +That yellows are not greens,<br /> +They pucker up their foreheads<br /> +And ponder what it means.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And then those cave-like places,<br /> +Churches and Capitols,<br /> +Where they all come together<br /> +Like troops of talking dolls,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +To govern, as they term it,<br /> +(It's really very odd!)<br /> +And have what they call worship<br /> +Of something they call God.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But Kitty, or whatever<br /> +May be her tender name,<br /> +Is more like us. She guesses<br /> +What sets the year aflame.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +She knows beyond her senses;<br /> +Do tell her all you can!<br /> +The funny people need it,--<br /> +At least, so says The Man.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Good-by, dear. I must idle.<br /> +Sweet suns and happy rains!<br /> +How nice to have these humans<br /> +With their inventive brains,--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page011"></a> +Their little scraps of paper!<br /> +They certainly evince<br /> +Remarkable discernment.<br /> +Your ever loving <i>Quince</i>.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="EASTER_MARKET"></a>AN EASTER MARKET.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Today, through your Easter market<br /> +In the lazy Southern sun,<br /> +I strolled with hands in pockets<br /> +Past the flower-stalls one by one.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Indolent, dreamy, ready<br /> +For anything to amuse,<br /> +Shyfoot out for a ramble<br /> +In his oldest hat and shoes.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Roses creamy and yellow,<br /> +Azaleas crimson and white,<br /> +And the flaky fresh carnations<br /> +My Orient of delight,--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Masses and banks of blossom<br /> +That dazzle and summon the eye,<br /> +Till the buyers are half bewildered<br /> +To know what they want. Not I.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Who would not rather be artist<br /> +And slip through the crowd unseen<br /> +To gather it all in a picture<br /> +And guess what the faces mean?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +So down through the chaffering darkies<br /> +I pass to the sidewalk's end,<br /> +Through the smiling gingham bonnets<br /> +With their small farm-stuff to vend.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page012"></a> +When, hello! my dreamer, sudden<br /> +As call at the dead of night,<br /> +What sets your pulses a-quiver,<br /> +What sets your fancy alight?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Sure of it! Mayflowers, mayflowers,<br /> +Scent of the North in spring!<br /> +Out in the vernal distance,<br /> +Heart of me, whither a-wing?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Give me some!" Clutch the first handful,<br /> +Hungering rover of earth!<br /> +How I devour and kiss them,<br /> +Beauties that brought me to birth,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Away in the great north country,<br /> +The land of the lonely sun,<br /> +Where God has few for his fellows,<br /> +And the wolves of the snowdrift run.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Once more to the frost-bound valley<br /> +Comes April with rain in her jar;<br /> +I can hear the vesper sparrow<br /> +Under the silver star.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And many and dear and gracious<br /> +Are the dreams that walk at my side<br /> +From the land of the lingering shadows,<br /> +As out of the throng I stride.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Oh, well for you, mere onlooker,<br /> +Who drift through the world's great mart!<br /> +But we of the human sorrow<br /> +Have a joy beyond your art.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page013"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="DAISIES"></a>DAISIES.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune<br /> +I saw the white daisies go down to the sea,<br /> +A host in the sunshine, an army in June,<br /> +The people God sends us to set our heart free.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The bobolinks rallied them up from the dell,<br /> +The orioles whistled them out of the wood;<br /> +And all of their singing was, "Earth, it is well!"<br /> +And all of their dancing was, "Life, thou art good!"<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="MOCKING-BIRD"></a>THE MOCKING-BIRD.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i>Hear! hear! hear!</i><br /> +Listen! the word<br /> +Of the mocking-bird!<br /> +<i>Hear! hear! hear!<br /> +I will make all clear;<br /> +I will let you know<br /> +Where the footfalls go<br /> +That through the thicket and over the hill<br /> +Allure, allure.</i><br /> +How the bird-voice cleaves<br /> +Through the weft of leaves<br /> +With a leap and a thrill<br /> +Like the flash of a weaver's shuttle, swift and sudden and sure!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And la, he is gone--even while I turn<br /> +The wisdom of his runes to learn.<br /> +He knows the mystery of the wood,<br /> +The secret of the solitude;<br /> +But he will not tell, he will not tell,<br /> +For all he promises so well.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page014"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="KARLENE_1"></a>KARLENE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Word of a little one born in the West,--<br /> +How like a sea-bird it comes from the sea,<br /> +Out of the league-weary waters' unrest<br /> +Blown with white wings, for a token, to me!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Blown with a skriel and a flurry of plumes<br /> +(Sea-spray and flight-rapture whirled in a gleam!)<br /> +Here for a sign of the comrade that looms<br /> +Large in the mist of my love as I dream.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +He with the heart of an old violin,<br /> +Vibrant at every least stir in the place,<br /> +Lyric of woods where the thrushes begin,<br /> +Wave-questing wanderer, still for a space,--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +What will the child of his be (so I muse),<br /> +Wood-flower, sea-flower, star-flower rare?<br /> +Worlds here to choose from, and which will she choose,<br /> +She whose first world is an armsweep of air?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Baby Karlene, you are wondering now<br /> +Why you can't reach the great moon that you see<br /> +Just at your hand on the edge of the bough<br /> +That waves in the window-pane--how can it be?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +All your world yet hardly lies out of reach<br /> +Of ten little fingers and ten little toes.<br /> +You are a seed for the sky there to teach<br /> +(And the sun and the wind and the rain) as it grows.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Just a green leaf piercing up to the day,<br /> +Pale fleck of June to come, just to be seen<br /> +Through the rough crumble of rubble and clay<br /> +Lifting its loveliness, dawn-child, Karlene!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page015"></a> +Fragile as fairycraft, dew-dream of love,--<br /> +Never a clod that has marred the slim stalk,<br /> +Never a stone but its frail fingers move,<br /> +Bent on the blue sky and nothing can balk!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Blue sky and wind-laughters, that is thy dream.<br /> +Ah the brave days when thy leafage shall toss<br /> +High where gold noondays and sunsets a-stream<br /> +Mix with its moving and kiss it across.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +There the great clouds shall go lazily by,<br /> +Coo! thee with shadows and dazzle with shine,<br /> +Drench thee with rain-guerdons, bless thee with sky,<br /> +Till all the knowledge of earth shall be thine.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Wind from the ice-floe and wind from the palm,<br /> +Wind from the mountains and wind from the lea--<br /> +How they will sing thee of tempest and calm!<br /> +How they will lure thee with tales of the sea!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +What will you be in that summer, Karlene?<br /> +Apple-tree, cherry-tree, lily, or corn?<br /> +Red rose or yellow rose, gray leaf or green?<br /> +Which will you choose now the year's at its morn?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Somewhere even now in thy heart is the will,--<br /> +"I shall be Golden Rod, slender and tall--<br /> +I shall be Pond Lily, secret and still--<br /> +I shall be Sweetbriar, Queen of them all--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"I shall give shade for the weary to rest--<br /> +I shall grow flax for the naked to wear--<br /> +Figs for a feast and all comers to guest--<br /> +Wreaths that girls twine in the laugh of their hair--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page016"></a> +"Ivy for scholars and myrtle for lovers,<br /> +Laurel for conquerors, poets, and kings--<br /> +Broad-spreading beech-boughs whose benison covers<br /> +Clamor of bird-notes and flutter of wings--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"I shall rise tall as an elm in my grace--<br /> +I shall be clothed as catalpa is clad--<br /> +Poets shall crown me with lyrics of praise--<br /> +Lovers for lure of my blossoms go mad!"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Which shall it be, baby? Guess you at all?<br /> +Only I know in the lull of the year<br /> +You have said now where your choosing shall fall,<br /> +Only you have not yet heard yourself, dear.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +So, like a mocking-bird, up in the trees,<br /> +I watching wondering where you have grown,<br /> +Borrow a note from a birdfellow's glees,<br /> +Fittest to sing you, and make it my own.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Only I know as I wonder, Karlene,<br /> +Singing up here where you think me a star,<br /> +Heaven's still above me, and some one serene<br /> +Laughs in the blue sky and knows what you are.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="KARLENE_2"></a>KARLENE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Good-morning, Karlene. It's a very<br /> +Fine beautiful world we are in.<br /> +Well, you <i>do</i> look as ripe as a berry;<br /> +And, pardon me, such a real chin!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page017"></a> +And may I--Ah, thank you; the pleasure<br /> +Is mine; just one kiss by your ear!--<br /> +May I introduce myself as your<br /> +Most dutiful godfather, dear?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I have fumed, like champagne that is fizzy,<br /> +To pay my respects at your door.<br /> +But the publishers keep one <i>so</i> busy.<br /> +Forgive my not calling before!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Karlene, you're a very small lady<br /> +To venture so far all alone;<br /> +Especially into so shady<br /> +A place as this planet has grown.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When <i>I</i> now, my dear, was at <i>your</i> age,<br /> +When nobody tried to be rich,<br /> +But lived on high thinking and porridge<br /> +(And didn't know t' other from which!),<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +For a girl to go out unattended<br /> +Was considered "not only unwise<br /> +And improper--" Our grandmothers ended<br /> +By lifting to heaven their eyes.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And yet even now, though it's shocking<br /> +To slander these wonderful years,<br /> +I dare say an inch of black stocking<br /> +Could set all the world by the ears.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Black, mind you, not blue! It's a trifle;<br /> +But trifling in stockings won't do;<br /> +For love has an eye like a rifle<br /> +(His bandage is slipping askew).<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But there! You are simply <i>too</i> charming.<br /> +No doubt you'll be modern enough<br /> +<a id="page018"></a> +(Though the speed of the world is alarming)<br /> +To win with a delicate bluff,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +As we say when we're raking the chips in,<br /> +On a hand that was not over strong--<br /> +But I see you are pursing your lips in;<br /> +Perhaps I am prating too long.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Anyhow you'll be learned in isms,<br /> +And talk pterodactyls in French,<br /> +And know polyhedrons from prisms,--<br /> +Though you may not know how to retrench.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +You will fall out of love with digamma<br /> +To fall in again with Delsarte;<br /> +You will make a new Syriac grammar,<br /> +And know all the popes off by heart.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +What Socrates said to Xantippe<br /> +When the lash of her tongue made him grieve;<br /> +What makes the banana peel slippy;<br /> +And what the snake whispered to Eve;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The music that Nero had played him,<br /> +When Rome was touched off with a match;<br /> +Why the king let the lady upbraid him<br /> +For burning her buns in a batch;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Why Hebrew is written left-handed;<br /> +And what Venus did with her arms;<br /> +What the Conqueror said when he landed;<br /> +The acres in Horace's farms;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The use of <i>hirundo</i> and <i>passer</i>:<br /> +All this you will probe to the pith<br /> +As a freshman at Wellesley or Vassar<br /> +Or Bryn Mawr--though <i>I</i> prefer Smith.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page019"></a> +You will solve every riddle in Browning;<br /> +And learn how to paddle and swim;<br /> +And save other people from drowning;<br /> +And play basket ball in the gym.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But you'll scorn to know why there's a tax on<br /> +All reading that isn't a bore,<br /> +When Mallarmé's filtered through Saxon<br /> +And the Symbolists come to the fore.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +All winter you'll read mathematics<br /> +(Oh, you'll be a terrible "prod"),<br /> +And in June, at the Senior Dramatics,<br /> +You will play like a star. But it's odd,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Since you'll quote every cadence in Kipling<br /> +And Arnold (of course I mean Matt),<br /> +If you don't make a bard of some stripling<br /> +Before he knows where he is at.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I am sure you'll be lovely as Trilby,<br /> +The loveliest bud of the year;<br /> +But remember, Karlene, I shall still be<br /> +Your doting old godfather, dear.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When you hear Archimedes' conundrum,<br /> +Like enough you'll be wanting to try<br /> +Whether one little girl <i>contra mundum</i><br /> +Can't lift the old thing with a pry!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +You will turn up your nose at poor "Thy will,"<br /> +With a haughty agnostical sniff,<br /> +Till you find the imperative "I will"<br /> +Has a future conditional "if."<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And then you will come to your senses,<br /> +And find out why women were made;<br /> +<a id="page020"></a> +And men too; and why there are fences<br /> +All round the whole lot where you strayed,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +While you wore yourself down to a shadow<br /> +Yet failed to discover your sphere;<br /> +For you'll see Adam down in the meadow<br /> +And think what a goosey you were!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And then when your classmates are singing<br /> +Once more for good-by the old glees,<br /> +And the round painted lanterns are swinging<br /> +And sputtering out in the trees,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When everything stales and withers<br /> +Except the great stars up above,<br /> +Your heartstrings will all go to smithers,<br /> +You'll just be one crumple of love.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And Adam will be such a duffer<br /> +(Dear fellow, I mean), he'll contrive,<br /> +Till you make him, to not make him suffer,<br /> +The happiest mortal alive.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Oh, it makes me too ill to continue,<br /> +Imagining how it will be<br /> +When some dapper youth comes to win you<br /> +And smiles condescension on me!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I shall loathe his immaculate breeding,<br /> +And advise you in time to refuse.<br /> +To think he will share in your reading,<br /> +And even unbutton your shoes!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And yet when for that precious laddie<br /> +Your hair is all crinkled and curled,<br /> +I guess you'll be just like your daddy,<br /> +The dearest old soul in the world!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page021"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="CONCERNING_KAVIN"></a>CONCERNING KAVIN.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +When Kavin comes back from the barber,<br /> +Although he no longer is young,<br /> +One cheek is as soft as his heart,<br /> +And the other as smooth as his tongue. '<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="KAVIN_AGAIN"></a>KAVIN AGAIN.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +It is not anything he says,<br /> +It's just his presence and his smile,<br /> +The blarney of his silences<br /> +That cocker and beguile.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="ACROSS_THE_TABLE"></a>ACROSS THE TABLE. +<span class="sc">To A. L. L.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Here's to you, Arthur! You and I<br /> +Have seen a lot of stormy weather,<br /> +Since first we clinked cups on the sly<br /> +At school together.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The winds of fate have had their will<br /> +And blown our crafts so far apart<br /> +We hardly knew if either still<br /> +Were on the chart.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But now I know the love of man<br /> +Is more than time or space or fate,<br /> +And laugh to scorn the powers that ban,<br /> +With you for mate.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +It's good to have you sitting by,<br /> +Old man, to prove the world no botch,<br /> +To shame the devil with your eye<br /> +And pass the Scotch.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page022"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="BARNEY_MCGEE"></a>BARNEY McGEE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Barney McGee, there's no end of good luck in you,<br /> +Will-o'-the-wisp, with a flicker of Puck in you,<br /> +Wild as a bull-pup and all of his pluck in you,--<br /> +Let a man tread on your coat and he'll see!--<br /> +Eyes like the lakes of Killarney for clarity,<br /> +Nose that turns up without any vulgarity,<br /> +Smile like a cherub, and hair that is carroty,--<br /> +Wow, you're a rarity, Barney McGee!<br /> +Mellow as Tarragon,<br /> +Prouder than Aragon--<br /> +Hardly a paragon,<br /> +You will agree--<br /> +Here's all that's fine to you!<br /> +Books and old wine to you!<br /> +Girls be divine to you,<br /> +Barney McGee!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Lucky the day when I met you unwittingly,<br /> +Dining where vagabonds came and went flittingly.<br /> +Here's some <i>Barbera</i> to drink it befittingly,<br /> +That day at <i>Silvio's</i>, Barney McGee!<br /> +Many's the time we have quaffed our Chianti there,<br /> +Listened to Silvio quoting us Dante there,--<br /> +Once more to drink <i>Nebiolo spumante</i> there,<br /> +How we'd pitch Pommery into the sea!<br /> +There where the gang of us<br /> +Met ere Rome rang of us,<br /> +They had the hang of us<br /> +To a degree.<br /> +How they would trust to you!<br /> +That was but just to you.<br /> +Here's o'er their dust to you,<br /> +Barney McGee!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page023"></a> +Barney McGee, when you're sober you scintillate,<br /> +But when you're in drink you're the pride of the intellect;<br /> +Divil a one of us ever came in till late,<br /> +Once at the bar where you happened to be--<br /> +Every eye there like a spoke in you centering,<br /> +You with your eloquence, blarney, and bantering--<br /> +All Vagabondia shouts at your entering,<br /> +King of the Tenderloin, Barney McGee!<br /> +There's no satiety<br /> +In your society<br /> +With the variety<br /> +Of your <i>esprit</i>.<br /> +Here's a long purse to you,<br /> +And a great thirst to you!<br /> +Fate be no worse to you,<br /> +Barney McGee!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Och, and the girls whose poor hearts you deracinate,<br /> +Whirl and bewilder and flutter and fascinate!<br /> +Faith, it's so killing you are, you assassinate,--<br /> +Murder's the word for you, Barney McGee!<br /> +Bold when they're sunny and smooth when they're showery,--<br /> +Oh, but the style of you, fluent and flowery!<br /> +Chesterfield's way, with a touch of the Bowery!<br /> +How would they silence you, Barney <i>machree?</i><br /> +Naught can your gab allay,<br /> +Learned as Rabelais<br /> +(You in his abbey lay<br /> +Once on the spree).<br /> +Here's to the smile of you,<br /> +(Oh, but the guile of you!)<br /> +And a long while of you,<br /> +Barney McGee!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page024"></a> +Facile with phrases of length and Latinity,<br /> +Like <i>honorificabilitudinity</i>,<br /> +Where is the maid could resist your vicinity,<br /> +Wiled by the impudent grace of your plea?<br /> +Then your vivacity and pertinacity<br /> +Carry the day with the divil's audacity;<br /> +No mere veracity robs your sagacity<br /> +Of perspicacity, Barney McGee.<br /> +When all is new to them,<br /> +What will you do to them?<br /> +Will you be true to them?<br /> +Who shall decree?<br /> +Here's a fair strife to you!<br /> +Health and long life to you!<br /> +And a great wife to you,<br /> +Barney McGee!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Barney McGee, you're the pick of gentility;<br /> +Nothing can phase you, you've such a facility;<br /> +Nobody ever yet found your utility,--<br /> +That is the charm of you, Barney McGee;<br /> +Under conditions that others would stammer in,<br /> +Still unperturbed as a cat or a Cameron,<br /> +Polished as somebody in the Decameron,<br /> +Putting the glamour on prince or Pawnee!<br /> +In your meanderin',<br /> +Love, and philanderin',<br /> +Calm as a mandarin<br /> +Sipping his tea!<br /> +Under the art of you,<br /> +Parcel and part of you,<br /> +Here's to the heart of you,<br /> +Barney McGee!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page025"></a> +You who were ever alert to befriend a man,<br /> +You who were ever the first to defend a man,<br /> +You who had always the money to lend a man,<br /> +Down on his luck and hard up for a V!<br /> +Sure, you'll be playing a harp in beatitude<br /> +(And a quare sight you will be in that attitude)--<br /> +Some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude,<br /> +You'll find your latitude, Barney McGee.<br /> +That's no flim-flam at all,<br /> +Frivol or sham at all,<br /> +Just the plain--Damn it all,<br /> +Have one with me!<br /> +Here's luck and more to you!<br /> +Friends by the score to you,<br /> +True to the core to you,<br /> +Barney McGee!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="SEA_GYPSY"></a>THE SEA GYPSY.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +I am fevered with the sunset,<br /> +I am fretful with the bay,<br /> +For the wander-thirst is on me<br /> +And my soul is in Cathay.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +There's a schooner in the offing,<br /> +With her topsails shot with fire,<br /> +And my heart has gone aboard her<br /> +For the Islands of Desire.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I must forth again to-morrow!<br /> +With the sunset I must be<br /> +Hull down on the trail of rapture<br /> +In the wonder of the sea.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page026"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="SPEECH_AND_SILENCE"></a>SPEECH AND SILENCE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +The words that pass from lip to lip<br /> +For souls still out of reach!<br /> +A friend for that companionship<br /> +That's deeper than all speech!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="SECRETS"></a>SECRETS.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Three secrets that never were said:<br /> +The stir of the sap in the spring,<br /> +The desire of a man to a maid,<br /> +The urge of a poet to sing.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="FIRST_JULEP"></a>THE FIRST JULEP.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +I love the lazy Southern spring,<br /> +The way she melts around a chap<br /> +And lets the great magnolias fling<br /> +Their languid petals in his lap.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I love to travel down half-way<br /> +And meet her coming up the earth,<br /> +With hurdy-gurdy men who play<br /> +And make the children dance for mirth.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But best of all I love to steer<br /> +For quiet corners not too far,<br /> +Where the first juleps reappear<br /> +With fresh green mint behind the bar.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +P. S. Perhaps you'll think it queer,<br /> +But I do not dislike a hint<br /> +To let the juleps disappear<br /> +And stick my nose into the mint.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page027"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="STEIN_SONG"></a>A STEIN SONG.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Give a rouse, then, in the Maytime<br /> +For a life that knows no fear!<br /> +Turn night-time into daytime<br /> +With the sunlight of good cheer!<br /> +For it's always fair weather<br /> +When good fellows get together,<br /> +With a stein on the table and a good song ringing clear.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When the wind comes up from Cuba<br /> +And the birds are on the wing,<br /> +And our hearts are patting juba<br /> +To the banjo of the spring,<br /> +Then it's no wonder whether<br /> +The boys will get together,<br /> +With a stein on the table and a cheer for everything.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +For we're all frank-and-twenty<br /> +When the spring is in the air;<br /> +And we've faith and hope a-plenty,<br /> +And we've life and love to spare;<br /> +And it's birds of a feather<br /> +When we all get together,<br /> +With a stein on the table and a heart without a care.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +For we know the world is glorious,<br /> +And the goal a golden thing,<br /> +And that God is not censorious<br /> +When his children have their fling;<br /> +And life slips its tether<br /> +When the boys get together,<br /> +With a stein on the table in the fellowship of spring.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page028"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="UNSAINTING_OF_KAVIN"></a>THE UNSAINTING OF KAVIN.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Saint Kavin was a gentleman,<br /> +He came from Tipperary;<br /> +And woman was the only thing<br /> +That ever made him scary.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +For Kavin was a tender youth,<br /> +And he was very simple;<br /> +He feared the wiles of maiden smiles,<br /> +And fainted at a dimple.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But when Kathleen at seventeen<br /> +Came down the street one morning,<br /> +The luck of man came over him<br /> +And took him without warning.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Afraid to meet a foolish fate<br /> +By green sea or by dry land,<br /> +He fled away without delay<br /> +And sought a desert island.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But even there he felt despair;<br /> +For happiness is only<br /> +The hope of doing something else;<br /> +And he was very lonely.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +He vowed to lead a life of prayer<br /> +Because that he had lost her;<br /> +And every time he thought of her<br /> +He said a <i>Pater noster</i>.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Yet hard it is for man to change<br /> +The less love for the greater;<br /> +And every time he reached <i>Amen</i>,<br /> +He must go back to <i>Pater</i>.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page029"></a> +And so he grew a year or two<br /> +Disconsolate and holy,<br /> +While friends he'd known long since had grown<br /> +Papas and roly-poly.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Until one day, one blessed day,<br /> +A-moping like a Hindoo,<br /> +He saw Kathleen in mournful mien<br /> +A-passing by his window.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +He threw away his rosary,<br /> +His <i>Paters</i> and his <i>Aves</i>;<br /> +For love is stronger than the wind<br /> +That wafts a thousand navies.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The holy man went forth to war,<br /> +But not against the devil.<br /> +He led the maid within for shade,<br /> +And treated her most civil.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +He gave her cakes, he gave her wine,<br /> +He set his best before her;<br /> +And then invited her to dine--<br /> +Thenceforth--with her adorer.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Her little head went round for joy;<br /> +She tried to kick the rafter:<br /> +So Kavin was a saint no more,<br /> +And happy ever after.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="WAYLAND_WILLOWS"></a>IN THE WAYLAND WILLOWS.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Once I met a soncy maid,<br /> +Soncy maid, soncy maid,<br /> +Once I met a soncy maid<br /> +In the Wayland willows.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page030"></a> +All her hair was goldy brown,<br /> +Goldy brown, goldy brown,<br /> +In the sun a single braid<br /> +To her waist hung down.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Honey bees, honey bees,<br /> +You are roving fellows!<br /> +Idly went the doxy wind<br /> +In the Wayland willows.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +There I caught her eye a-dance,<br /> +Through the catkins downy.<br /> +"Heigho, Brownie-pate," said I;<br /> +"Heigho," said my Brownie.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Then I kissed my soncy maid,<br /> +Soncy maid, soncy maid,<br /> +Kissed and kissed my soncy maid<br /> +In the Wayland willows.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Goldy eyes and goldy hair,<br /> +And little gypsy bosom,<br /> +Chin and lip and shoulder tip,<br /> +Blossom after blossom!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Hand in hand and cheek by cheek<br /> +All the morning weather!<br /> +How the yellow butterflies<br /> +Danced and winked together!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Till the day went down the hill<br /> +Where the shadows waded.<br /> +"Heigho, Soncy!" "Heigho, me!"<br /> +Then I did as day did.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page031"></a> +All her tousled beauty bright<br /> +And teasing as before,<br /> +I left her there in sweet despair,<br /> +A soncy maid no more.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="WHEN_I_WAS_TWENTY"></a>WHEN I WAS TWENTY.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +<i>It was June, and I was twenty.<br /> +All my wisdom, poor but plenty,<br /> +Never learned</i> Festina lente.<br /> +<i>Youth is gone, but whither went he?</i><br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Madeline came down the orchard<br /> +With a mischief in her eye,<br /> +Half demure and half inviting,<br /> +Melting, wayward, wistful, shy.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Four bright eyes that found life lovely,<br /> +And forgot to wonder why;<br /> +Four warm lips at one love-lesson,<br /> +Learned by heart so easily.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +We gained something of that knowledge<br /> +No man ever yet put by,<br /> +But his after days of sorrow<br /> +Left him nothing but to die.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Madeline went up the orchard,<br /> +Down the hurrying world went I;<br /> +Now I know love has no morrow,<br /> +Happiness no by-and-by.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<i>Youth is gone, but whither went he?<br /> +All my wisdom, poor but plenty,<br /> +Never learned</i> Festina lente.<br /> +<i>It was June, and I was twenty</i>.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page032"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="SILENCE"></a>IN A SILENCE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Heart to heart!<br /> +And the stillness of night and the moonlight, like hushed breathing<br /> +Silently, stealthily moving across thy hair!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O womanly face!<br /> +Tender and strong and lucent with infinite feeling,<br /> +Shrinking with startled joy, like wind-struck water,<br /> +And yet so frank, so unashamed of love!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Ay, for there it is, love--that's the deepest.<br /> +Love's not love in the dark.<br /> +Light loves wither i' the sun, but Love endureth,<br /> +Clothing himself with the light as with a robe.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I would bare my soul to thy sight--<br /> +Leave not a secret deep unsearched,<br /> +Unrevealing its shame or its glory.<br /> +Love without Truth shall die as a soul without God.<br /> +A lying love is the love of a day<br /> +But the brave and true shall love forever.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Build Love a house;<br /> +Let the walls be thick;<br /> +Shut him in from the sight of men;<br /> +But hide not Love from himself.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Ah, the summer night!<br /> +The wind in the trees and the moonlight!<br /> +And my kisses on thy throat<br /> +And thy breathing in my hair!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Silent, lips to lips!<br /> +But our souls have held speech, thought answering echoing thought,<br /> +Though the only words were kisses.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page033"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="BATHER"></a>THE BATHER.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +I saw him go down to the water to bathe;<br /> +He stood naked upon the bank.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +His breast was like a white cloud in the heaven,<br /> + that catches the sun;<br /> +It swelled with the sharp joy of the air.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +His legs rose with the spring and curve of young birches;<br /> +The hollow of his back caught the blue shadows:<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +With his head thrown up to the lips of the wind;<br /> +And the curls of his forehead astir with the wind.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I would that I were a man, they are so beautiful;<br /> +Their bodies are like the bows of the Indians;<br /> +They have the spring and the grace of bows of hickory.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I know that women are beautiful, and that I am beautiful;<br /> +But the beauty of a man is so lithe and alive and triumphant,<br /> +Swift as the night of a swallow and sure as the<br /> + pounce of the eagle.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="IN_ANJOU"></a>NOCTURNE: IN ANJOU</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +I dreamed of Sappho on a summer night.<br /> +Her nightingales were singing in the trees<br /> +Beside the castled river; and the wind<br /> +Fell like a woman's fingers on my cheek.<br /> +And then I slept and dreamed and marked no change;<br /> +<a id="page034"></a> +The night went on with me into my dream.<br /> +This only I remember, that I cried:<br /> +"O Sappho! ere I leave this paradise,<br /> +Sing me one song of those lost books of yours<br /> +For which we poets still go sorrowing;<br /> +That when I meet my fellows on the earth<br /> +I may rejoice them more than many pearls;"<br /> +And she, the sweetly smiling, answered me,<br /> +As one who dreams, "I have forgotten them."<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="IN_PROVENCE"></a>NOCTURNE: IN PROVENCE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +The blue night, like an angel, came into the room,--<br /> +Came through the open window from the silent sky<br /> +Down trellised stairs of moonlight into the dear room<br /> +As if a whisper breathed of some divine one nigh.<br /> +The nightingales, like brooks of song in Paradise,<br /> +Gurgled their serene rapture to the silent sky--<br /> +Like springs of laughter bubbling up in Paradise,<br /> +The serene nightingales along the riverside<br /> +Purled low in every tree their star-cool melodies<br /> +Of joy--in every tree along the riverside.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Did the vain garments melt in music from your side?<br /> +Did you rise from them as a lily flowers i' the air?<br /> +--But you were there before me like the Night's own bride--<br /> +I dared not call you mine. So still and tall you were,<br /> +I never dreamed that you were mine--I never dreamed<br /> +<a id="page035"></a> +I loved you--I forgot I loved you. You were air<br /> +And music, and the shadows that you stood in, seemed<br /> +Like priests that keep their sombre vigil round a shrine--<br /> +Like sombre priests that watch about a glorious shrine.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And then you stepped into the moonlight and laid bare<br /> +The wonder of your body to the night, and stood<br /> +With all the stars of heaven looking at you there,<br /> +As simply as a saint might bare her soul to God--<br /> +As simply as a saint might bathe in lakes of prayer--<br /> +Stood with the holy moonlight falling on you there<br /> +Until I thought that in a glory unaware<br /> +I had seen a soul stand forth and bare itself to God--<br /> +A saintly soul lay bare its innocence to God.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="JUNE_NIGHT_IN_WASHINGTON"></a>JUNE NIGHT IN WASHINGTON.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +The scent of honeysuckle,<br /> +Drugging the twilight<br /> +With its sweet opiate of lovers' dreams!<br /> +The last red glow of the setting sun<br /> +On the red brick wall<br /> +Of the neighboring house,<br /> +And the scramble of red roses over it!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Slowly, slowly<br /> +The night smokes up from the city to the stars,<br /> +The faint foreshadowed stars;<br /> +The smouldering night<br /> +Breathes upward like the breath<br /> +Of a woman asleep<br /> +With dim breast rising and falling<br /> +And a smile of delicate dreams.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page036"></a> +Softly, softly<br /> +The wind comes into the garden,<br /> +Like a lover that fears lest he waken his love,<br /> +And his hands drip with the scent of the roses<br /> +And his locks weep with the opiate odor of honeysuckle.<br /> +Sighing, sighing<br /> +As a lover that yearns for the lips of his love,<br /> +In a torment of bliss,<br /> +In a passionate dreaming of bliss,<br /> +The wind in the trees of the garden!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +How intimate are the trees,--<br /> +Rustling like the secret darkness of the soul!<br /> +How still is the starlight,--<br /> +Aloof in the placidity of dream!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Outside the garden<br /> +A group of negroes passing in the street<br /> +Sing with ripe lush voices,<br /> +Sing with voices that swim<br /> +Like great slow gliding fishes<br /> +Through the scent of the honeysuckle:<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<i>My love's waitin',<br /> +Waitin' by the river,<br /> +Waitin' till I come along!<br /> +Wait there, child; I'm comin'</i>.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<i>Jay-bird tol' me,<br /> +Tol' me in the mornin',<br /> +<a id="page037"></a> +Tol' me she'd be there to-night.<br /> +Wait there, child; I'm comin'</i>.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Waves of dream!<br /> +Spell of the summer night!<br /> +Will of the grass that stirs in its sleep!<br /> +Desire of the honeysuckle!<br /> +And further away,<br /> +Like the plash of far-off waves in the fluid night,<br /> +The negroes, singing:<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<i>Whip-po'-will tol' me,<br /> +Tol' me in the evenin',<br /> +"Down by the bend where the cat-tails grow."<br /> +Wait there, child; I'm comin'</i>.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Lo, the moon,<br /> +Like a galleon sailing the night;<br /> +And the wash of the moonlight over the roofs and the trees!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Oh, my bride,<br /> +Come down from yonder lattice where you bide<br /> +Like a charmed princess in a Persian song!<br /> +I look up at your yellow window-panes,<br /> +Set in the night with far-off wizardry.<br /> +Come down, come down; the night is fain of you,<br /> +The garden waits your footstep on its walks.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Lo, the moon,<br /> +Like a galleon sailing the night;<br /> +And the wash of the moonlight over the red brick wall and the roses!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +A gleam of lamplight through an open door!<br /> +A footfall like the wind's upon the grass!<br /> +A rustle like the wind's among the leaves!...<br /> +Dim as a dream of pale peach blooms of light,<br /> +<a id="page038"></a> +Blue in the blue soft pallor of the moon,<br /> +She comes between the trees as a faint tune<br /> +Falls from a flute far off into the night....<br /> +So Death might come to one who knew him Love.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="SONG_FOR_MARNA"></a>A SONG FOR MARNA.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Dame of the night of hair<br /> +Like blue smoke blown!<br /> +World yet undreamed-of there<br /> +Lurks to be known.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Dame of the dizzy eyes,<br /> +Lure of dim quests!<br /> +World of what midnights lies<br /> +Under thy breasts!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Dame of the quench of love,<br /> +Give me to quaff!<br /> +There's all the world's made of<br /> +Under thy laugh.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Dame of the dare of gods,<br /> +Let the sky lower!<br /> +Time, give the world for odds,--<br /> +I choose this hour.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="SEPTEMBER_WOODLANDS"></a>SEPTEMBER WOODLANDS.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +This is not sadness in the wood;<br /> +The yellowbird<br /> +Flits joying through the solitude,<br /> +By no thought stirred<br /> +Save of his little duskier mate<br /> +And rompings jolly.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page039"></a> +If there's a Dryad in the wood,<br /> +She is not sad.<br /> +Too wise the spirits are to brood;<br /> +Divinely glad,<br /> +They dream with countenance sedate<br /> +Not melancholy.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="NANCIBEL"></a>NANCIBEL.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +The ghost of a wind came over the hill,<br /> +While day for a moment forgot to die,<br /> +And stirred the sheaves<br /> +Of the millet leaves,<br /> +As Nancibel went by.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Out of the lands of Long Ago,<br /> +Into the land of By and By,<br /> +Faded the gleam<br /> +Of a journeying dream,<br /> +As Nancibel went by.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="VAGABOND_SONG"></a>A VAGABOND SONG.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood--<br /> +Touch of manner, hint of mood;<br /> +And my heart is like a rhyme,<br /> +With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry<br /> +Of bugles going by.<br /> +And my lonely spirit thrills<br /> +To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page040"></a> +There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir;<br /> +We must rise and follow her,<br /> +When from every hill of flame<br /> +She calls and calls each vagabond by name.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="THREE_OF_A_KIND"></a>THREE OF A KIND.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Three of us without a care<br /> +In the red September<br /> +Tramping down the roads of Maine,<br /> +Making merry with the rain,<br /> +With the fellow winds a-fare<br /> +Where the winds remember.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Three of us with shocking hats,<br /> +Tattered and unbarbered,<br /> +Happy with the splash of mud,<br /> +With the highways in our blood,<br /> +Bearing down on Deacon Platt's<br /> +Where last year we harbored.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +We've come down from Kennebec,<br /> +Tramping since last Sunday,<br /> +Loping down the coast of Maine,<br /> +With the sea for a refrain,<br /> +And the maples neck and neck<br /> +All the way to Fundy.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Sometimes lodging in an inn,<br /> +Cosey as a dormouse--<br /> +Sometimes sleeping on a knoll<br /> +With no rooftree but the Pole--<br /> +Sometimes halely welcomed in<br /> +At an old-time farmhouse.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page041"></a> +Loafing under ledge and tree,<br /> +Leaping over boulders,<br /> +Sitting on the pasture bars,<br /> +Hail-fellow with storm or stars--<br /> +Three of us alive and free,<br /> +With unburdened shoulders!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Three of us with hearts like pine<br /> +That the lightnings splinter,<br /> +Clean of cleave and white of grain--<br /> +Three of us afoot again,<br /> +With a rapture fresh and fine<br /> +As a spring in winter!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +All the hills are red and gold;<br /> +And the horns of vision<br /> +Call across the crackling air<br /> +Till we shout back to them there,<br /> +Taken captive in the hold<br /> +Of their bluff derision.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Spray-salt gusts of ocean blow<br /> +From the rocky headlands;<br /> +Overhead the wild geese fly,<br /> +Honking in the autumn sky;<br /> +Black sinister flocks of crow<br /> +Settle on the dead lands.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Three of us in love with life,<br /> +Roaming like wild cattle,<br /> +With the stinging air a-reel<br /> +As a warrior might feel<br /> +The swift orgasm of the knife<br /> +Slay him in mid-battle.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Three of us to march abreast<br /> +Down the hills of morrow!<br /> +<a id="page042"></a> +With a clean heart and a few<br /> +Friends to clench the spirit to!--<br /> +Leave the gods to rule the rest,<br /> +And good-by, sorrow!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="WOOD-FOLK_LORE"></a>WOOD-FOLK LORE. +<span class="sc">To T. B. M.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +For every one<br /> +Beneath the sun,<br /> +Where Autumn walks with quiet eyes,<br /> +There is a word,<br /> +Just overheard<br /> +When hill to purple hill replies.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +This afternoon,<br /> +As warm as June,<br /> +With the red apples on the bough,<br /> +I set my ear<br /> +To hark and hear<br /> +The wood-folk talking, you know how.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +There comes a "Hush!"<br /> +And then a "Tush,"<br /> +As tree to scarlet tree responds,<br /> +"Babble away!<br /> +He'll not betray<br /> +The secrets of us vagabonds.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Are we not all,<br /> +Both great and small,<br /> +Cousins and kindred in a joy<br /> +No school can teach,<br /> +No worldling reach,<br /> +Nor any wreck of chance destroy?"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page043"></a> +And so we are,<br /> +However far<br /> +We journey ere the journey ends,<br /> +One brotherhood<br /> +With leaf and bud<br /> +And everything that wakes or wends.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The wind that blows<br /> +My autumn rose<br /> +Where Grand Pré looks to Blomidon,--<br /> +How great must be<br /> +The company<br /> +Of roses he has leaned upon,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Since first he shed<br /> +Their petals red<br /> +Through Persian gardens long ago,<br /> +When Omar heard<br /> +His muttered word<br /> +Rumoring things we may not know!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Our brother ghost,<br /> +He is a most<br /> +Incorrigible wanderer;<br /> +And still to-day<br /> +He takes his way<br /> +About my hills of spruce and fir;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Will neither bide<br /> +By the great tide,<br /> +In apple lands of Acadie,<br /> +Nor in the leaves<br /> +About your eaves,<br /> +Where Scituate looks out to sea.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page044"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="MICHAELMAS"></a>AT MICHAELMAS.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +About the time of Michael's feast<br /> +And all his angels,<br /> +There comes a word to man and beast<br /> +By dark evangels.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Then hearing what the wild things say<br /> +To one another,<br /> +Those creatures first born of our gray<br /> +Mysterious Mother,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The greatness of the world's unrest<br /> +Steals through our pulses;<br /> +Our own life takes a meaning guessed<br /> +From the torn dulse's.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The draft and set of deep sea-tides<br /> +Swirling and flowing,<br /> +Bears every filmy flake that rides,<br /> +Grandly unknowing.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The sunlight listens; thin and fine<br /> +The crickets whistle;<br /> +And floating midges fill the shine<br /> +Like a seeding thistle.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The hawkbit flies his golden flag<br /> +From rocky pasture,<br /> +Bidding his legions never lag<br /> +Through morning's vasture.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Soon we shall see the red vines ramp<br /> +Through forest borders,<br /> +And Indian summer breaking camp<br /> +To silent orders.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page045"></a> +The glossy chestnuts swell and burst<br /> +Their prickly houses<br /> +Agog at news which reached them first<br /> +In sap's carouses.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The long noons turn the ribstons red,<br /> +The pippins yellow;<br /> +The wild duck from his reedy bed<br /> +Summons his fellow.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The robins keep the underbrush<br /> +Songless and wary,<br /> +As though they feared some frostier hush<br /> +Might bid them tarry;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Perhaps in the great North they heard<br /> +Of silence falling<br /> +Upon the world without a word,<br /> +White and appalling.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The ash-tree and the lady-fern,<br /> +In russet frondage,<br /> +Proclaim 'tis time for our return<br /> +To vagabondage.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +All summer idle have we kept;<br /> +But on a morning,<br /> +Where the blue hazy mountains slept,<br /> +A scarlet warning<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Disturbs our day-dream with a start;<br /> +A leaf turns over;<br /> +And every earthling is at heart<br /> +Once more a rover.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page046"></a> +All winter we shall toil and plod,<br /> +Eating and drinking;<br /> +But now's the little time when God<br /> +Sets folk to thinking.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Consider," says the quiet sun,<br /> +"How far I wander;<br /> +Yet when had I not time on one<br /> +More flower to squander?"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Consider," says the restless tide,<br /> +"My endless labor;<br /> +Yet when was I content beside<br /> +My nearest neighbor?"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +So wander-lust to wander-lure,<br /> +As seed to season<br /> +Must rise and wend, possessed and sure<br /> +In sweet unreason.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +For doorstone and repose are good,<br /> +And kind is duty;<br /> +But joy is in the solitude<br /> +With shy-heart beauty.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And Truth is one whose ways are meek<br /> +Beyond foretelling;<br /> +And far his journey who would seek<br /> +Her lowly dwelling.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +She leads him by a thousand heights,<br /> +Lonelily faring,<br /> +With sunrise and with eagle flights<br /> +To mate his daring.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page047"></a> +For her he fronts a vaster fog<br /> +Than Leif of yore did,<br /> +Voyaging for continents no log<br /> +Has yet recorded.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +He travels by a polar star,<br /> +Now bright, now hidden,<br /> +For a free land, though rest be far<br /> +And roads forbidden,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Till on a day with sweet coarse bread<br /> +And wine she stays him,<br /> +Then in a cool and narrow bed<br /> +To slumber lays him.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +So we are hers. And, fellows mine<br /> +Of fin and feather,<br /> +By shady wood and shadowy brine,<br /> +When comes the weather<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +For migrants to be moving on,<br /> +By lost indenture<br /> +You flock and gather and are gone:<br /> +The old adventure!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I too have my unwritten date,<br /> +My gypsy presage;<br /> +And on the brink of fall I wait<br /> +The darkling message.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The sign, from prying eyes concealed,<br /> +Is yet how flagrant!<br /> +Here's ragged-robin in the field,<br /> +A simple vagrant.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page048"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="MOTHER_OF_POETS"></a>THE MOTHER OF POETS. +<span class="sc">To H. F. H.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +The typewriter ticketh no more in the twilight;<br /> +The mother of poets is sitting alone;<br /> +Only the katydid teases the noonday;<br /> +Where are the good-for-naught wanderbirds flown?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Tom's in the North with his purple impressions;<br /> +Dickon's in London a-building his fame;<br /> +Fred's in the mountains a-minding his cattle;<br /> +Kavanagh's teaching and preaching and game.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Over in Kingscroft a toiler is writing,<br /> +The boyish Old Man whom no fate ever floored;<br /> +Karl's in New York with his briefs and his logic,<br /> +That subtile mind like a velvet-sheathed sword.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Blomidon welcomes his brother in silence;<br /> +Grand Pré is luring him back to her breast;<br /> +Faint and far off are the cries of the city,<br /> +There in the country of infinite rest.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +All of them turn in their wide vagabondage,<br /> +Halt and remember a place they have known,<br /> +Where the typewriter ticketh no more in the twilight,<br /> +And the mother of poets is sitting alone.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +There they will surely some April forgather,<br /> +Drink once together before they depart,<br /> +One by one over the threshold of silence,<br /> +On the long trail of the wandering heart.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Fear not, little mother, there may be a region<br /> +Where poets have only to smile and keep still.<br /> +The tick of the typewriter there will be useless,<br /> +But there will be need of a motherkin still.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page049"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="GOOD-BY"></a>A GOOD-BY.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +For love of the roving foot<br /> +And joy of the roving eye,<br /> +God send you store of morrows fair<br /> +And a good rest by and by!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="BROWNING"></a>IN A COPY OF BROWNING.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Browning, old fellow,<br /> +Your leaves grow yellow,<br /> +Beginning to mellow<br /> +As seasons pass.<br /> +Your cover is wrinkled,<br /> +And stained and sprinkled,<br /> +And warped and crinkled<br /> +From sleep on the grass.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Is it a wine stain,<br /> +Or only a pine stain,<br /> +That makes such a fine stain<br /> +On your dull blue,--<br /> +Got as we numbered<br /> +The clouds that lumbered<br /> +Southward and slumbered<br /> +When day was through?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +What is the dear mark<br /> +There like an earmark,<br /> +Only a tear mark<br /> +A woman let fall?--<br /> +As bending over<br /> +She bade me discover,<br /> +"Who <i>plays</i> the lover,<br /> +He loses all!"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page050"></a> +With you for teacher<br /> +We learned love's feature<br /> +In every creature<br /> +That roves or grieves;<br /> +When winds were brawling,<br /> +Or bird-folk calling,<br /> +Or leaf-folk falling,<br /> +About our eaves.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +No law must straiten<br /> +The ways they wait in,<br /> +Whose spirits greaten<br /> +And hearts aspire.<br /> +The world may dwindle,<br /> +And summer brindle,<br /> +So love but kindle<br /> +The soul to fire.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Here many a red line,<br /> +Or pencilled headline,<br /> +Shows love could wed line<br /> +To golden sense;<br /> +And something better<br /> +Than wisdom's fetter<br /> +Has made your letter<br /> +Dense to the dense.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +No April robin,<br /> +Nor clacking bobbin,<br /> +Can make of Dobbin<br /> +A Pegasus;<br /> +But Nature's pleading<br /> +To man's unheeding,<br /> +Your subtile reading<br /> +Made clear to us.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page051"></a> +You made us farers<br /> +And equal sharers<br /> +With homespun wearers<br /> +In home-made joys;<br /> +You made us princes<br /> +No plea convinces<br /> +That spirit winces<br /> +At dust and noise.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When Fate was nagging,<br /> +And days were dragging,<br /> +And fancy lagging,<br /> +You gave it scope,--<br /> +When eaves were drippy,<br /> +And pavements slippy,--<br /> +From Lippo Lippi<br /> +To Evelyn Hope.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When winter's arrow<br /> +Pierced to the marrow,<br /> +And thought was narrow,<br /> +You gave it room;<br /> +We guessed the warder<br /> +On Roland's border,<br /> +And helped to order<br /> +The Bishop's Tomb.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When winds were harshish,<br /> +And ways were marshish,<br /> +We found with Karshish<br /> +Escape at need;<br /> +Were bold with Waring<br /> +In far seafaring,<br /> +And strong in snaring<br /> +Ben Ezra's creed.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page052"></a> +We felt the menace<br /> +Of lovers pen us,<br /> +Afloat in Venice<br /> +Devising fibs;<br /> +And little mattered<br /> +The rain that pattered,<br /> +While Blougram chattered<br /> +To Gigadibs.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And we too waited<br /> +With heart elated<br /> +And breathing bated,<br /> +For Pippa's song;<br /> +Saw Satan hover,<br /> +With wings to cover<br /> +Porphyria's lover,<br /> +Pompilia's wrong.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Long thoughts were started,<br /> +When youth departed<br /> +From the half-hearted<br /> +Riccardi's bride;<br /> +For, saith your fable,<br /> +Great Love is able<br /> +To slip the cable<br /> +And take the tide.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Or truth compels us<br /> +With Paracelsus,<br /> +Till nothing else is<br /> +Of worth at all.<br /> +Del Sarto's vision<br /> +Is our own mission,<br /> +And art's ambition<br /> +Is God's own call.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page053"></a> +Through all the seasons,<br /> +You gave us reasons<br /> +For splendid treasons<br /> +To doubt and fear;<br /> +Bade no foot falter,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Though weaklings palter,<br /> +And friendships alter<br /> +From year to year.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Since first I sought you,<br /> +Found you and bought you,<br /> +Hugged you and brought you<br /> +Home from Cornhill,<br /> +While some upbraid you,<br /> +And some parade you,<br /> +Nine years have made you<br /> +My master still.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="SHAKESPEARE"></a>SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF: FOR THE UNVEILING +OF MR. PARTRIDGE'S STATUE OF THE POET.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +The body is no prison where we lie<br /> +Shut out from our true heritage of sun;<br /> +It is the wings wherewith the soul may fly.<br /> +Save through this flesh so scorned and spat upon,<br /> +No ray of light had reached the caverned mind,<br /> +No thrill of pleasure through the life had run,<br /> +No love of nature or of humankind,<br /> +Were it but love of self, had stirred the heart<br /> +To its first deed. Such freedom as we find,<br /> +We find but through its service, not apart.<br /> +And as an eagle's wings upbear him higher<br /> +Than Andes or Himalaya, and chart<br /> +Rivers and seas beneath; so our desire,<br /> +<a id="page054"></a> +With more celestial members yet, may soar<br /> +Into the space of empyrean fire,<br /> +Still bodied but more richly than before.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The body is the man; what lurks behind<br /> +Through it alone unveils itself. Therefore<br /> +We are not wrong, who seek to keep in mind<br /> +The form and feature of the mighty dead.<br /> +So back of all the giving is divined<br /> +The giver, back of all things done or said<br /> +The man himself in elemental speech<br /> +Of flesh and bone and sinew utterèd.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +This is thy language, Sculpture. Thine to reach<br /> +Beneath all thoughts, all feelings, all desires,<br /> +To that which thinks and lives and loves, and teach<br /> +The world the primal selfhood of its sires,<br /> +Its heroes and its lovers and its gods.<br /> +So shall Apollo flame in marble fires,<br /> +The mien of Zeus suffice before he nods,<br /> +So Gautama in ivory dream out<br /> +The calm of Time's untrammelled periods,<br /> +So Sigurd's lips be in themselves a shout.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Mould us our Shakespeare, sculptor, in the form<br /> +His comrades knew, rare Ben and all the rout<br /> +That found the taproom of the Mermaid warm<br /> +With wit and wine and fellowship, the face<br /> +Wherein the men he chummed with found a charm<br /> +To make them love him; carve for us the grace<br /> +That caught Anne Hathaway in Shottery-side,<br /> +The hand that clasped Southampton's in the days<br /> +Ere that dark dame, of passion and of pride<br /> +Burned in his heart the brand of her disdain,<br /> +The eyes that wept when little Hamnet died,<br /> +The lips that learned from Marlowe's and again<br /> +<a id="page055"></a> +Taught riper lore to Fletcher and the rest,<br /> +The presence and demeanor sovereign<br /> +At last at Stratford calm and manifest,<br /> +That rested on the seventh day and scanned<br /> +His work and knew it good, and left the quest<br /> +And like his own enchanter broke his wand.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +No viewless mind! The very shape, no less,<br /> +He used to speak and smile with, move and stand!<br /> +God is most God not in his loneliness,<br /> +Unfellowed, discreationed, unrevealed,<br /> +Nor thundering on Sinai, pitiless,<br /> +Nor when the seven vials are unsealed,<br /> +But when his spirit companions with our thought<br /> +And in his fellowship our pain is healed;<br /> +And we are likest God when we are brought<br /> +Most near to all men. Bring us near to him,<br /> +The gentle, human soul whose calm might wrought<br /> +Imperious Lear and made our eyes grow dim<br /> +For Imogen,--who, though he heard the spheres<br /> +"Still choiring to the young-eyed cherubim,"<br /> +Could laugh with Falstaff and his loose compeers<br /> +And love the rascal with the same big heart<br /> +That o'er Cordelia could not stay its tears.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +For still the man is greater than his art.<br /> +And though thy men and women, Shakespeare, rise<br /> +Like giants in our fancy and depart,<br /> +Thyself art more than all their masteries,<br /> +Thy wisdom more than Hamlet's questionings<br /> +Or the cold searching of Ulysses' eyes,<br /> +Thy mirth more sweet than Benedick's flouts and flings,<br /> +Thy smiling dearer than Mercutio's,<br /> +Thy dignity past that of all thy kings,<br /> +And thy enchantment more than Prospero's.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page056"></a> +For thou couldst not have had Othello's flaw,<br /> +Not erred with Brutus,--greater, then, than those<br /> +For all their nobleness. Oh, albeit with awe,<br /> +Leave we the mighty phantoms and draw near<br /> +The man that fashioned them and gave them law!<br /> +The Master Poet found with scarce a peer<br /> +In all the ages his domain to share,<br /> +Yet of all singers gentlest and most dear!<br /> +Oh, how shall words thy proper praise declare,<br /> +Divine in thy supreme humanity<br /> +And near as the inevitable air?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +So he that wrought this image deemed of thee;<br /> +So I, thy lover, keep thee in my heart;<br /> +So may this figure set for men to see<br /> +Where the world passes eager for the mart,<br /> +Be as a sudden insight of the soul<br /> +That makes a darkness into order start,<br /> +And lift thee up for all men, fair and whole,<br /> +Till scholar, merchant farmer, artisan,<br /> +Seeing, divine beneath the aureole<br /> +The fellow heart and know thee for a man.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="ROAD-HOUSE"></a>AT THE ROAD-HOUSE: IN MEMORY OF +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +You hearken, fellows? Turned aside<br /> +Into the road-house of the past!<br /> +The prince of vagabonds is gone<br /> +To house among his peers at last.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The stainless gallant gentleman,<br /> +So glad of life, he gave no trace,<br /> +<a id="page057"></a> +No hint he even once beheld<br /> +The spectre peering in his face;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But gay and modest held the road,<br /> +Nor feared the Shadow of the Dust;<br /> +And saw the whole world rich with joy,<br /> +As every valiant farer must.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +I think that old and vasty inn<br /> +Will have a welcome guest to-night,<br /> +When Chaucer, breaking off some tale<br /> +That fills his hearers with delight,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Shall lift up his demure brown eyes<br /> +To bid the stranger in; and all<br /> +Will turn to greet the one on whom<br /> +The crystal lot was last to fall.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Keats of the more than mortal tongue<br /> +Will take grave Milton by the sleeve<br /> +To meet their kin, whose woven words<br /> +Had elvish music in the weave.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Dear Lamb and excellent Montaigne,<br /> +Sterne and the credible Defoe,<br /> +Borrow, DeQuincey, the great Dean,<br /> +The sturdy leisurist Thoreau;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The furtive soul whose dark romance,<br /> +By ghostly door and haunted stair,<br /> +Explored the dusty human heart<br /> +And the forgotten garrets there;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The moralist it could not spoil,<br /> +To hold an empire in his hands;<br /> +Sir Walter, and the brood who sprang<br /> +From Homer through a hundred lands,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page058"></a> +Singers of songs on all men's lips,<br /> +Tellers of tales in all men's ears,<br /> +Movers of hearts that still must beat<br /> +To sorrows feigned and fabled tears;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Horace and Omar, doubting still<br /> +What mystery lurks beyond the seen,<br /> +Yet blithe and reassured before<br /> +That fine unvexed Virgilian mien;<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +These will companion him to-night,<br /> +Beyond this iron wintry gloom,<br /> +When Shakespeare and Cervantes bid<br /> +The great joy-masters give him room.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +No alien there in speech or mood,<br /> +He will pass in, one traveller more;<br /> +And portly Ben will smile to see<br /> +The velvet jacket at the door.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="VERLAINE"></a>VERLAINE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Avid of life and love, insatiate vagabond,<br /> +With quest too furious for the graal he would have won,<br /> +He flung himself at the eternal sky, as one<br /> +Wrenching his chains but impotent to burst the bond.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Yet under the revolt, the revel, the despond,<br /> +What pools of innocence, what crystal benison!<br /> +As through a riven mist that glowers in the sun,<br /> +A stretch of God's blue calm glassed in a virgin pond.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page059"></a> +Prowler of obscene streets that riot reek along,<br /> +And aisles with incense numb and gardens mad with rose,<br /> +Monastic cells and dreams of dim brocaded lawns,<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Death, which has set the calm of Time upon his song,<br /> +Surely upon his soul has kissed the same repose<br /> +In some fair heaven the Christ has set apart for Fauns.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="DISTILLATION"></a>DISTILLATION.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +They that eat the uncrushed grape<br /> +Walk with steady heels:<br /> +Lo, now, how they stare and gape<br /> +Where the poet reels!<br /> +He has drunk the sheer divine<br /> +Concentration of the vine.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="FRIENDS_WISH"></a>A FRIEND'S WISH. +<span class="sc">To C. W. S.</span></p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Give me your last <i>Aloha</i>,<br /> +When I go out of sight,<br /> +Over the dark rim of the sea<br /> +Into the Polar night!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And all the Northland give you<br /> +<i>Skoal</i> for the voyage begun,<br /> +When your bright summer sail goes down<br /> +Into the zones of sun!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page060"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="LAL_OF_KILRUDDEN"></a>LAL OF KILRUDDEN.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Kilrudden ford, Kilrudden dale,<br /> +Kilrudden fronting every gale<br /> +On the lorn coast of Inishfree,<br /> +And Lal's last bed the plunging sea.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Lal of Kilrudden with flame-red hair,<br /> +And the sea-blue eyes that rove and dare,<br /> +And the open heart with never a care;<br /> +With her strong brown arms and her ankles bare,<br /> +God in heaven, but she was fair,<br /> +That night the storm put in from sea?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The nightingales of Inishkill,<br /> +The rose that climbed her window-sill,<br /> +The shade that rustled or was still,<br /> +The wind that roved and had his will,<br /> +And one white sail on the low sea-hill,<br /> +Were all she knew of love.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +So when the storm drove in that day,<br /> +And her lover's ship on the ledges lay,<br /> +Past help and wrecking in the gray,<br /> +And the cry was, "Who'll go down the bay,<br /> +With half of the lifeboat's crew away?"<br /> +Who should push to the front and say,<br /> +"I will be one, be others who may,"<br /> +But Lal of Kilrudden, born at sea!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The nightingales all night in the rain,<br /> +The rose that fell at her window-pane,<br /> +The frost that blackened the purple plain,<br /> +And the scorn of pitiless disdain<br /> +At the hands of the wolfish pirate main,<br /> +Quelling her great hot heart in vain,<br /> +Were all she knew of death.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page061"></a> +Kilrudden ford, Kilrudden dale,<br /> +Kilrudden ruined in the gale<br /> +That wrecked the coast of Inishfree,<br /> +And Lal's last bed the plunging sea.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="HUNTING-SONG"></a>HUNTING-SONG: FROM "KING ARTHUR."</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Oh, who would stay indoor, indoor,<br /> +When the horn is on the hill? (<i>Bugle:</i> Tarantara!<br /> +With the crisp air stinging, and the huntsmen singing,<br /> +And a ten-tined buck to kill!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Before the sun goes down, goes down,<br /> +We shall slay the buck of ten; (<i>Bugle:</i> Tarantara!<br /> +And the priest shall say benison, and we shall ha'e venison,<br /> +When we come home again.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Let him that loves his ease, his ease,<br /> +Keep close and house him fair; (<i>Bugle:</i> Tarantara!<br /> +He'll still be a stranger to the merry thrill of danger<br /> +And the joy of the open air.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But he that loves the hills, the hills,<br /> +Let him come out to-day! (<i>Bugle:</i>Tarantara!<br /> +For the horses are neighing, and the hounds are baying,<br /> +And the hunt's up, and away!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page062"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="BUIE_ANNAJOHN"></a>BUIE ANNAJOHN.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Buie Annajohn was the king's black mare,<br /> +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!<br /> +Satin was her coat and silk was her hair,<br /> +Buie Annajohn,<br /> +The young king's own.<br /> +March with the white moon, march with the sun,<br /> +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Buie Annajohn, when the dew lay hoar,<br /> +(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!)<br /> +Down through the meadowlands went to war,--<br /> +Buie Annajohn,<br /> +The young king's own.<br /> +March by the river road, march by the dune,<br /> +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Buie Annajohn had the heart of flame,<br /> +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!<br /> +First of the hosts to the hostings came<br /> +Buie Annajohn,<br /> +The young king's own.<br /> +March till we march the red sun down,<br /> +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Back from the battle at the close of day,<br /> +(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!)<br /> +Came with the war cheers, came with a neigh,<br /> +Buie Annajohn,<br /> +The young king's own.<br /> +Oh, heavy was the sword that we laid on;<br /> +But half of the heave was Buie Annajohn,<br /> +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page063"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="MARY_OF_MARKA"></a>MARY OF MARKA.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Eric of Marka holds the knife:<br /> +"A nameless death for a nameless life."--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Mary of Marka, bid him stay,<br /> +And the morrow shall be our wedding-day."--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Will the blessing of priest give back my faith,<br /> +Or life to the child you left to death?"--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Eric of Marka holds the knife,<br /> +And turns to the mother that is no wife:<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"Mary of Marka, have your will!<br /> +Shall I spare him, or shall I kill?"--<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"He wrought me wrong when the days were sweet,<br /> +And he'll get no more but a winding-sheet."<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="PREMONITION"></a>PREMONITION.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +He said, "Good-night, my heart is light,<br /> +To-morrow morn at day<br /> +We two together in the dew<br /> +Shall forth and fare away.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +"We shall go down, the halls of dawn<br /> +To find the doors of joy;<br /> +We shall not part again, dear heart."<br /> +And he laughed out like a boy.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +He turned and strode down the blue road<br /> +Against the western sky<br /> +Where the last line of sunset glowed<br /> +As sullen embers die.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page064"></a> +The night reached out her kraken arms<br /> +To clutch him as he passed,<br /> +And for one sudden moment<br /> +My soul shrank back aghast.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="HEARSE-HORSE"></a>THE HEARSE-HORSE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin,<br /> +"What the devil have you there?<br /> +I may trot from court to square,<br /> +Yet it neither swears nor groans,<br /> +When I jolt it over stones."<br /> +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse,<br /> +"Bones!"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin,<br /> +"What the devil have you there,<br /> +With that purple frozen stare?<br /> +Where the devil has it been<br /> +To get that shadow grin?"<br /> +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse,<br /> +"Skin!"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin,<br /> +"What the devil have you there?<br /> +It has fingers, it has hair;<br /> +Yet it neither kicks nor squirms<br /> +At the undertaker's terms."<br /> +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse,<br /> +"Worms!"<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="NIGHT-WASHERS"></a>THE NIGHT-WASHERS.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!<br /> +We are the brothers of ghouls, and who<br /> +In the name of the Crooked Saints are you?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page065"></a> +We are the washers of shrouds wherein<br /> +The lovers of beauty who sainted sin<br /> +Sleep till the Judgment Day begin.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +When the moon is drifting overhead,<br /> +We wash the linen of the dead,<br /> +Stained with yellow and stiff with red.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!<br /> +We are the foul night-washers, and who,<br /> +By the Seven Lovely sins are you?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Here we sit by the river reeds,<br /> +Rinsing the linen that reeks and bleeds,<br /> +And craving the help our labor needs.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Come, Sir Fop, fall to, fall to!<br /> +Show us for once what you can do!<br /> +One day there'll be washing enough for you.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Wade in, wade in, where the river runs<br /> +Clear in the moonlight over the stones!<br /> +It'll wash the ache from your scrofulous bones.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!<br /> +We are the gossips of fame, and who<br /> +By the Sinners' Litany are you?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Wade in, wade in! The water is cold,<br /> +The stains are deep, and the linen is old;<br /> +But surely the sons of the town are bold!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Work for us here till the break of day<br /> +At washing the stains of the dead away,<br /> +And you shall be merry, come what may!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +<a id="page066"></a> +From now till your ninetieth year begins,<br /> +You shall sin the Seven Lovely sins,<br /> +While wearing the virtue a cardinal wins.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Refuse, and your arms shall be broken and wried,<br /> +To dangle like fenders over the side<br /> +Of an empty ship on the harbor tide!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +They shall gather a waist in their grip no more,<br /> +As you wander the wide world over and o'er,<br /> +With the curs at your heels from door to door.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +With only a stranger to cover your face,<br /> +You shall die in the streets of an outcast race,<br /> +And your linen be washed in the market-place!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh!<br /> +We are the Scavenger Saints, but who<br /> +In the name of the Shadowy Kin are you?<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="MR_MOON"></a>MR. MOON: A SONG OF THE +LITTLE PEOPLE.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +O Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +Down on the hilltop,<br /> +Down in the glen,<br /> +Out in the clearin',<br /> +To play with little men?<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +Hurry up your stumps!<br /> +Don't you hear Bullfrog<br /> +<a id="page067"></a> +Callin' to his wife,<br /> +And old black Cricket<br /> +A-wheezin' at his fife?<br /> +Hurry up your stumps,<br /> +And get on your pumps!<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +Hurry up along!<br /> +The reeds in the current<br /> +Are whisperin' slow;<br /> +The river's a-wimplin'<br /> +To and fro.<br /> +Or you'll miss the song!<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +We're all here!<br /> +Honey-bug, Thistledrift,<br /> +White-imp, Weird,<br /> +Wryface, Billiken,<br /> +Quidnunc, Queered;<br /> +We're all here,<br /> +And the coast is clear!<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +We're the little men!<br /> +Dewlap, Pussymouse,<br /> +Ferntip, Freak,<br /> +Drink-again, Shambler,<br /> +Talkytalk, Squeak;<br /> +<a id="page068"></a> +Three times ten<br /> +Of us little men!<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +We're all ready!<br /> +Tallenough, Squaretoes,<br /> +Amble, Tip,<br /> +Buddybud, Heigho,<br /> +Little black Pip;<br /> +We're all ready,<br /> +And the wind walks steady!<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +We're thirty score;<br /> +Yellowbeard, Piper,<br /> +Lieabed, Toots,<br /> +Meadowbee, Moonboy,<br /> +Bully-in-boots;<br /> +Three times more<br /> +Than thirty score.<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +Keep your eye peeled;<br /> +Watch out to windward,<br /> +Or you'll miss the fun,<br /> +Down by the acre<br /> +Where the wheat-waves run;<br /> +<a id="page069"></a> +Keep your eye peeled<br /> +For the open field.<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +There's not much time!<br /> +Hurry, if you're comin',<br /> +You lazy old bones!<br /> +You can sleep to-morrow<br /> +While the Buzbuz drones;<br /> +There's not much time<br /> +Till the church bells chime.<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Mr. Moon,<br /> +Just see the clover!<br /> +Soon we'll be going<br /> +Where the Gray Goose went<br /> +When all her money<br /> +Was spent, spent, spent!<br /> +Down through the clover,<br /> +When the revel's over!<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +O Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +Down where the Good Folk<br /> +Dance in a ring,<br /> +Down where the Little Folk<br /> +Sing?<br /> +Moon, Mr. Moon,<br /> +When you comin' down?<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page070"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="HEM_AND_HAW"></a>HEM AND HAW.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Hem and Haw were the sons of sin,<br /> +Created to shally and shirk;<br /> +Hem lay 'round and Haw looked on<br /> +While God did all the work.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a prig,<br /> +For both had the dull, dull mind;<br /> +And whenever they found a thing to do,<br /> +They yammered and went it blind.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Hem was the father of bigots and bores;<br /> +As the sands of the sea were they.<br /> +And Haw was the father of all the tribe<br /> +Who criticise to-day.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +But God was an artist from the first,<br /> +And knew what be was about;<br /> +While over his shoulder sneered these two,<br /> +And advised him to rub it out.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +They prophesied ruin ere man was made:<br /> +"Such folly must surely fail!"<br /> +And when he was done, "Do you think, my Lord,<br /> +He's better without a tail?"<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +And still in the honest working world,<br /> +With posture and hint and smirk,<br /> +These sons of the devil are standing by<br /> +While Man does all the work.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +They balk endeavor and baffle reform,<br /> +In the sacred name of law;<br /> +And over the quavering voice of Hem<br /> +Is the droning voice of Haw.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page071"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="ACCIDENT_IN_ART"></a>ACCIDENT IN ART.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +That painter has not with a careless smutch<br /> +Accomplished his despair?--one touch revealing<br /> +All he had put of life, thought, vigor, feeling,<br /> +Into the canvas that without that touch<br /> +Showed of his love and labor just so much<br /> +Raw pigment, scarce a scrap of soul concealing!<br /> +What poet has not found his spirit kneeling<br /> +A sudden at the sound of such or such<br /> +Strange verses staring from his manuscript,<br /> +Written he knows not how, but which will sound<br /> +Like trumpets down the years? So Accident<br /> +Itself unmasks the likeness of Intent,<br /> +And ever in blind Chance's darkest crypt<br /> +The shrine-lamp of God's purposing is found.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<p class="title"><a id="GARDEN"></a>IN A GARDEN.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +Thought is a garden wide and old<br /> +For airy creatures to explore,<br /> +Where grow the great fantastic flowers<br /> +With truth for honey at the core.<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +There like a wild marauding bee<br /> +Made desperate by hungry fears,<br /> +From gorgeous <i>If</i> to dark <i>Perhaps</i><br /> +I blunder down the dusk of years.<br /> +</p> +</div> + + +<div class="poem"> +<a id="page072"></a> +<p class="title"><a id="END_OF_THE_DAY"></a>AT THE END OF THE DAY.</p> + +<p class="stanza"> +There is no escape by the river,<br /> +There is no flight left by the fen;<br /> +We are compassed about by the shiver<br /> +Of the night of their marching men.<br /> +Give a cheer!<br /> +For our hearts shall not give way.<br /> +Here's to a dark to-morrow,<br /> +And here's to a brave to-day!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +The tale of their hosts is countless,<br /> +And the tale of ours a score;<br /> +But the palm is naught to the dauntless,<br /> +And the cause is more and more.<br /> +Give a cheer!<br /> +We may die, but not give way.<br /> +Here's to a silent morrow,<br /> +And here's to a stout to-day!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +God has said: "Ye shall fail and perish;<br /> +But the thrill ye have felt to-night<br /> +I shall keep in my heart and cherish<br /> +When the worlds have passed in night."<br /> +Give a cheer!<br /> +For the soul shall not give way.<br /> +Here's to the greater to-morrow<br /> +That is born of a great to-day!<br /> +</p> +<p class="stanza"> +Now shame on the craven truckler<br /> +And the puling things that mope!<br /> +We've a rapture for our buckler<br /> +That outwears the wings of hope.<br /> +Give a cheer!<br /> +For our joy shall not give way.<br /> +Here's in the teeth of to-morrow<br /> +To the glory of to-day!<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr /> + +<p class="center"><a id="page073"></a> +<span class="tiny">THIS BOOK WAS PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON +AND SON, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, +MASSACHUSETTS, DURING OCTOBER,<br /> +1896.</span></p> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of More Songs From Vagabondia, by +Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA *** + +***** This file should be named 18007-h.htm or 18007-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/0/18007/ + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Paul Motsuk and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + +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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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: More Songs From Vagabondia + +Author: Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey + +Release Date: March 17, 2006 [EBook #18007] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA *** + + + + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Paul Motsuk and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + + + + + + +MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA + +Bliss Carman +Richard Hovey + + +Designs by +Tom B. Meteyard + + +Boston: Copeland and Day +London: Elkin Mathews + +MDCCCXCVI + + + + +_To M. G. M., so good to lighten cares, +The boys inscribe this second book of theirs._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +JONGLEURS 1 +EARTH'S LYRIC 5 +THE WOOD-GOD 6 +A FAUN'S SONG 7 +QUINCE TO LILAC 7 +AN EASTER MARKET 11 +DAISIES 13 +THE MOCKING-BIRD 13 +KARLENE 14 +KARLENE 16 +CONCERNING KAVIN 21 +KAVIN AGAIN 21 +ACROSS THE TABLE 21 +BARNEY MCGEE 22 +THE SEA GYPSY 25 +SPEECH AND SILENCE 26 +SECRETS 26 +THE FIRST JULEP 26 +A STEIN SONG 27 +THE UNSAINTING OF KAVIN 28 +IN THE WAYLAND WILLOWS 29 +WHEN I WAS TWENTY 31 +IN A SILENCE 32 +THE BATHER 33 +NOCTURNE: IN ANJOU 33 +NOCTURNE: IN PROVENCE 34 +JUNE NIGHT IN WASHINGTON 35 +A SONG FOR MARNA 38 +SEPTEMBER WOODLANDS 38 +NANCIBEL 39 +A VAGABOND SONG 39 +THREE OF A KIND 40 +WOOD-FOLK LORE 42 +AT MICHAELMAS 44 +THE MOTHER OF POETS 48 +A GOOD-BY 49 +IN A COPY OF BROWNING 49 +SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF 53 +AT THE ROAD-HOUSE 56 +VERLAINE 58 +DISTILLATION 59 +A FRIEND'S WISH 59 +LAL OF KILRUDDEN 60 +HUNTING-SONG 61 +BUIE ANNAJOHN 62 +MARY OF MARKA 63 +PREMONITION 63 +THE HEARSE-HORSE 64 +THE NIGHT-WASHERS 64 +MR. MOON 66 +HEM AND HAW 70 +ACCIDENT IN ART 71 +IN A GARDEN 71 +AT THE END OF THE DAY 72 + + + + +_And ever with the vanguard + The vagrant singers come + The gamins of the city +Who dance before the drum_ + + + + +JONGLEURS. + + +What is the stir in the street? +Hurry of feet! +And after, +A sound as of pipes and of tabers! + +Men of the conflicts and labors, +Struggling and shifting and shoving, +Pushing and pounding your neighbors, +Fighting for leeway for laughter, +Toiling for leisure for loving! +Hark, through the window and up to the rafter, +Madder and merrier, +Deeper and verier, +Sweeter, contrarier, +Dafter and dafter, +A song arises,-- +A thrill, an intrusion, +A reel, an illusion, +A rapture, a crisis +Of bells in the air! + +Ay, up from your work and look out of the window! +"Who are the newcomers, Arab or Hindoo? +Persians, or Japs, or the children of Isis?" +--Guesses, surmises-- +Forth with you, fare +Down in the street to draw nearer and stare! +Come from your palaces, come from your hovels! +Lay down your ledgers, your picks and your shovels, +Your trowels and bricks, +Hammers and nails, +Scythes and flails, +Bargains and sales, +And the trader's tricks, +Deals, overreachings, +Worries and griefs, +Teachings and preachings, +Boluses, briefs, +Writs and attachments, +Quarterings, hatchments, +Clans and cognomens, +Comments and scholia, +(World's melancholia)-- +Cast them aside, and good riddance to rubbish! +Here at the street-corner, hearken, a strain, +Rough and off-hand and a bit rub-a-dub-ish, +Gives us a taste of the life we'd attain. + +Who are they, what are they, whence have they come to us? +Where will they go when their singing is done? +What is the garb they wear, tattered and sumptuous, +Faded with days and superb in the sun? +What are they singing of? +Hush! +... There's a ringing of +Delicate chimes; +And the blush +Of a veiled bride morning +Beats in the rhymes. +Listen! +Out of the merriment, +Clear as the glisten +Of dew on the brier, +A silver warning! +Sudden, a dare-- +Lyric experiment-- +Up like a lark in the air, +Higher and higher and higher, +The song shoots out of our blunder +Of thought to the blue sky of wonder, +And broken strains only fall down +Like pearls on the roofs of the town. + +Somebody says they have come from the moon, +Seen with their eyes Eldorado, +Sat in the Bo-tree's shadow, +Wandered at noon +In the valleys of Van, +Tented in Lebanon, tarried in Ophir, +Last year in Tartary piped for the Khan. +Now it's the song of a lover; +Now it's the lilt of a loafer,-- +Under the trees in a midsummer noon, +Dreaming the haze into isles to discover, +Beating the silences into a croon; +Soon +Up from the marshes a fall of the plover! +Out from the cover +A flurry of quail! +Down from the height where the slow hawks hover, +The thin far ghost of a hail! +And near, and near, +Throbbing and tingling,-- +With a human cheer +In the earth-song mingling,-- +Mirth and carousal, +Wooing, espousal, +Clinking of glasses +And laughter of lasses-- +And the wind in the garden stoops down as it passes +To play with the hair +Of the loveliest there, +And the wander-lust catches the will in its snare; +Hill-wind and spray-lure, +Call of the heath; +Dare in the teeth +Of the balk and the failure; +The clasp and the linger +Of loosening finger, +Loth to dissever; +Thrill of the comrade heart to its fellow +Through droughts that sicken and blasts that bellow +From purple furrow to harvest yellow, +Now and forever. +How our feet itch to keep time to their measure! +How our hearts lift to the lilt of their song! +Let the world go, for a day's royal pleasure! +Not every summer such waifs come along. + +Now they are off to the inn; +Hear the clean ring of their laughter! +Cool as a hill-brook after +The beat of the noon sets in! +Gentlemen even in jollity-- +Certainly people of quality!-- +Waifs and estrays no less, +Roofless and penniless, +They are the wayside strummers +Whose lips are man's renown, +Those wayward brats of Summer's +Who stroll from town to town; +Spendthrift of life, they ravish +The days of an endless store, +And ever the more they lavish +The heap of the hoard is more. +For joy and love and vision +Are alive and breed and stay +When dust shall hold in derision +The misers of a day. + + + + +EARTH'S LYRIC. + + +April. You hearken, my fellow, +Old slumberer down in my heart? +There's a whooping of ice in the rivers; +The sap feels a start. + +The snow-melted torrents are brawling; +The hills, orange-misted and blue, +Are touched with the voice of the rainbird +Unsullied and new. + +The houses of frost are deserted, +Their slumber is broken and done, +And empty and pale are the portals +Awaiting the sun. + +The bands of Arcturus are slackened; +Orion goes forth from his place +On the slopes of the night, leading homeward +His hound from the chase. + +The Pleiades weary and follow +The dance of the ghostly dawn; +The revel of silence is over; +Earth's lyric comes on. + +A golden flute in the cedars, +A silver pipe in the swales, +And the slow large life of the forest +Wells bade and prevails. + +A breath of the woodland spirit +Has blown out the bubble of spring +To this tenuous hyaline glory +One touch sets a-wing. + + + + +THE WOOD-GOD. + + +Brother, lost brother! +Thou of mine ancient kin! +Thou of the swift will that no ponderings smother! +The dumb life in me fumbles out to the shade +Thou lurkest in. +In vain--evasive ever through the glade +Departing footsteps fail; +And only where the grasses have been pressed, +Or by snapped twigs I follow a fruitless trail. +So--give o'er the quest! +Sprawl on the roots and moss! +Let the lithe garter squirm across my throat! +Let the slow clouds and leaves above me float +Into mine eyeballs and across,-- +Nor think them further! Lo, the marvel! now, +Thou whom my soul desireth, even thou +Sprawl'st by my side, who fled'st at my pursuit. +I hear thy fluting; at my shoulder there +I see the sharp ears through the tangled hair, +And birds and bunnies at thy music mute. + + + + +A FAUN'S SONG. + + +Cool! cool! cool! +Cool and sweet +The feel of the moss at my feet! +And sweet and cool +The touch of the wind, of the wind! + +Cool wind out of the blue, +At the touch of you +A little wave crinkles and flows +All over me down to my toes. + +"Coo-loo! Coo-loo!" +Hear the doves in the tree-tops croon. +"Coo-loo! Coo-loo!" +Love comes soon. + +"June! June!" +The veery sings, +Sings and sings, +"June! June!"-- +A pretty tune! + +Wind with your weight of perfume, +Bring me the bluebells' bloom! + + + + +QUINCE TO LILAC: To G. H. + + +Dear _Lilac_, how enchanting +To hear of you this way! +The Man who comes a-mouching +To visit me each day + +Says you too have a lover +Far lovelier than I. +And from his rapt description, +She loves you gloriously. + +The Man prowls out each morning +To see if spring's begun. +What infinite amusement +These creatures offer one! + +He asks me such conundrums +As no one ever heard: +The name of April's father, +The trail of every bird, + +What keeps me warm in winter, +Who wakes me up in time, +And why procrastination +Is such a fearful crime. + +And yet, who knows? He may be +Our equal ages hence-- +With such pathetic glimmers +Of weird intelligence! + +But this your blessed alien, +Why strays she roving here? +Was Orpheus not her brother, +Persephone her peer? + +Was she not once a dryad +Whom Syrinx lulled to sleep +Beside the Dorian water, +And still her eyelids keep + +The glad unperished secret +From centuries of joy, +And memories of the morning +When Helen sailed for Troy? + +Is her name Gertrude, Kitty, +Hypatia, or what? +I seem to half remember, +And yet have quite forgot. + +That soft Hellenic laughter! +I marvel you don't make +An effort to be early +In budding for her sake. + +Just fancy hearing daily +That velvet voice of hers! +How do you quell the riot +Of sap her coming stirs? + +Perhaps she puts her face up, +(Dear Charity she is!) +For messages of summer +And better worlds than this. + +You cannot blush, poor Lilac; +It is not in your race. +I simply should go crimson, +If I were in your place. + +Do tell her all your secrets! +The Man declares she knows +Better than any mortal +The wonder-trick of prose. + +_Our_ prose, I mean,--how beauty +Appears to you and me; +The truth that seems so simple, +Which they call poetry. + +They put it down in writing +And label it with tags, +The funny conscious people +Who mask in colored rags! + +They have a thing called _science_, +With phrases strange and pat. +My dear, can you imagine +Intelligence like that? + +And when they first discover +That yellows are not greens, +They pucker up their foreheads +And ponder what it means. + +And then those cave-like places, +Churches and Capitols, +Where they all come together +Like troops of talking dolls, + +To govern, as they term it, +(It's really very odd!) +And have what they call worship +Of something they call God. + +But Kitty, or whatever +May be her tender name, +Is more like us. She guesses +What sets the year aflame. + +She knows beyond her senses; +Do tell her all you can! +The funny people need it,-- +At least, so says The Man. + +Good-by, dear. I must idle. +Sweet suns and happy rains! +How nice to have these humans +With their inventive brains,-- + +Their little scraps of paper! +They certainly evince +Remarkable discernment. +Your ever loving _Quince_. + + + + +AN EASTER MARKET. + + +Today, through your Easter market +In the lazy Southern sun, +I strolled with hands in pockets +Past the flower-stalls one by one. + +Indolent, dreamy, ready +For anything to amuse, +Shyfoot out for a ramble +In his oldest hat and shoes. + +Roses creamy and yellow, +Azaleas crimson and white, +And the flaky fresh carnations +My Orient of delight,-- + +Masses and banks of blossom +That dazzle and summon the eye, +Till the buyers are half bewildered +To know what they want. Not I. + +Who would not rather be artist +And slip through the crowd unseen +To gather it all in a picture +And guess what the faces mean? + +So down through the chaffering darkies +I pass to the sidewalk's end, +Through the smiling gingham bonnets +With their small farm-stuff to vend. + +When, hello! my dreamer, sudden +As call at the dead of night, +What sets your pulses a-quiver, +What sets your fancy alight? + +Sure of it! Mayflowers, mayflowers, +Scent of the North in spring! +Out in the vernal distance, +Heart of me, whither a-wing? + +"Give me some!" Clutch the first handful, +Hungering rover of earth! +How I devour and kiss them, +Beauties that brought me to birth, + +Away in the great north country, +The land of the lonely sun, +Where God has few for his fellows, +And the wolves of the snowdrift run. + +Once more to the frost-bound valley +Comes April with rain in her jar; +I can hear the vesper sparrow +Under the silver star. + +And many and dear and gracious +Are the dreams that walk at my side +From the land of the lingering shadows, +As out of the throng I stride. + +Oh, well for you, mere onlooker, +Who drift through the world's great mart! +But we of the human sorrow +Have a joy beyond your art. + + + + +DAISIES. + + +Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune +I saw the white daisies go down to the sea, +A host in the sunshine, an army in June, +The people God sends us to set our heart free. + +The bobolinks rallied them up from the dell, +The orioles whistled them out of the wood; +And all of their singing was, "Earth, it is well!" +And all of their dancing was, "Life, thou art good!" + + + + +THE MOCKING-BIRD. + + +_Hear! hear! hear!_ +Listen! the word +Of the mocking-bird! +_Hear! hear! hear! +I will make all clear; +I will let you know +Where the footfalls go +That through the thicket and over the hill +Allure, allure._ +How the bird-voice cleaves +Through the weft of leaves +With a leap and a thrill +Like the flash of a weaver's shuttle, swift and sudden and sure! + +And la, he is gone--even while I turn +The wisdom of his runes to learn. +He knows the mystery of the wood, +The secret of the solitude; +But he will not tell, he will not tell, +For all he promises so well. + + + + +KARLENE. + + +Word of a little one born in the West,-- +How like a sea-bird it comes from the sea, +Out of the league-weary waters' unrest +Blown with white wings, for a token, to me! + +Blown with a skriel and a flurry of plumes +(Sea-spray and flight-rapture whirled in a gleam!) +Here for a sign of the comrade that looms +Large in the mist of my love as I dream. + +He with the heart of an old violin, +Vibrant at every least stir in the place, +Lyric of woods where the thrushes begin, +Wave-questing wanderer, still for a space,-- + +What will the child of his be (so I muse), +Wood-flower, sea-flower, star-flower rare? +Worlds here to choose from, and which will she choose, +She whose first world is an armsweep of air? + +Baby Karlene, you are wondering now +Why you can't reach the great moon that you see +Just at your hand on the edge of the bough +That waves in the window-pane--how can it be? + +All your world yet hardly lies out of reach +Of ten little fingers and ten little toes. +You are a seed for the sky there to teach +(And the sun and the wind and the rain) as it grows. + +Just a green leaf piercing up to the day, +Pale fleck of June to come, just to be seen +Through the rough crumble of rubble and clay +Lifting its loveliness, dawn-child, Karlene! + +Fragile as fairycraft, dew-dream of love,-- +Never a clod that has marred the slim stalk, +Never a stone but its frail fingers move, +Bent on the blue sky and nothing can balk! + +Blue sky and wind-laughters, that is thy dream. +Ah the brave days when thy leafage shall toss +High where gold noondays and sunsets a-stream +Mix with its moving and kiss it across. + +There the great clouds shall go lazily by, +Coo! thee with shadows and dazzle with shine, +Drench thee with rain-guerdons, bless thee with sky, +Till all the knowledge of earth shall be thine. + +Wind from the ice-floe and wind from the palm, +Wind from the mountains and wind from the lea-- +How they will sing thee of tempest and calm! +How they will lure thee with tales of the sea! + +What will you be in that summer, Karlene? +Apple-tree, cherry-tree, lily, or corn? +Red rose or yellow rose, gray leaf or green? +Which will you choose now the year's at its morn? + +Somewhere even now in thy heart is the will,-- +"I shall be Golden Rod, slender and tall-- +I shall be Pond Lily, secret and still-- +I shall be Sweetbriar, Queen of them all-- + +"I shall give shade for the weary to rest-- +I shall grow flax for the naked to wear-- +Figs for a feast and all comers to guest-- +Wreaths that girls twine in the laugh of their hair-- + +"Ivy for scholars and myrtle for lovers, +Laurel for conquerors, poets, and kings-- +Broad-spreading beech-boughs whose benison covers +Clamor of bird-notes and flutter of wings-- + +"I shall rise tall as an elm in my grace-- +I shall be clothed as catalpa is clad-- +Poets shall crown me with lyrics of praise-- +Lovers for lure of my blossoms go mad!" + +Which shall it be, baby? Guess you at all? +Only I know in the lull of the year +You have said now where your choosing shall fall, +Only you have not yet heard yourself, dear. + +So, like a mocking-bird, up in the trees, +I watching wondering where you have grown, +Borrow a note from a birdfellow's glees, +Fittest to sing you, and make it my own. + +Only I know as I wonder, Karlene, +Singing up here where you think me a star, +Heaven's still above me, and some one serene +Laughs in the blue sky and knows what you are. + + + + +KARLENE. + + +Good-morning, Karlene. It's a very +Fine beautiful world we are in. +Well, you _do_ look as ripe as a berry; +And, pardon me, such a real chin! + +And may I--Ah, thank you; the pleasure +Is mine; just one kiss by your ear!-- +May I introduce myself as your +Most dutiful godfather, dear? + +I have fumed, like champagne that is fizzy, +To pay my respects at your door. +But the publishers keep one _so_ busy. +Forgive my not calling before! + +Karlene, you're a very small lady +To venture so far all alone; +Especially into so shady +A place as this planet has grown. + +When _I_ now, my dear, was at _your_ age, +When nobody tried to be rich, +But lived on high thinking and porridge +(And didn't know t' other from which!), + +For a girl to go out unattended +Was considered "not only unwise +And improper--" Our grandmothers ended +By lifting to heaven their eyes. + +And yet even now, though it's shocking +To slander these wonderful years, +I dare say an inch of black stocking +Could set all the world by the ears. + +Black, mind you, not blue! It's a trifle; +But trifling in stockings won't do; +For love has an eye like a rifle +(His bandage is slipping askew). + +But there! You are simply _too_ charming. +No doubt you'll be modern enough +(Though the speed of the world is alarming) +To win with a delicate bluff, + +As we say when we're raking the chips in, +On a hand that was not over strong-- +But I see you are pursing your lips in; +Perhaps I am prating too long. + +Anyhow you'll be learned in isms, +And talk pterodactyls in French, +And know polyhedrons from prisms,-- +Though you may not know how to retrench. + +You will fall out of love with digamma +To fall in again with Delsarte; +You will make a new Syriac grammar, +And know all the popes off by heart. + +What Socrates said to Xantippe +When the lash of her tongue made him grieve; +What makes the banana peel slippy; +And what the snake whispered to Eve; + +The music that Nero had played him, +When Rome was touched off with a match; +Why the king let the lady upbraid him +For burning her buns in a batch; + +Why Hebrew is written left-handed; +And what Venus did with her arms; +What the Conqueror said when he landed; +The acres in Horace's farms; + +The use of _hirundo_ and _passer_: +All this you will probe to the pith +As a freshman at Wellesley or Vassar +Or Bryn Mawr--though _I_ prefer Smith. + +You will solve every riddle in Browning; +And learn how to paddle and swim; +And save other people from drowning; +And play basket ball in the gym. + +But you'll scorn to know why there's a tax on +All reading that isn't a bore, +When Mallarme's filtered through Saxon +And the Symbolists come to the fore. + +All winter you'll read mathematics +(Oh, you'll be a terrible "prod"), +And in June, at the Senior Dramatics, +You will play like a star. But it's odd, + +Since you'll quote every cadence in Kipling +And Arnold (of course I mean Matt), +If you don't make a bard of some stripling +Before he knows where he is at. + +I am sure you'll be lovely as Trilby, +The loveliest bud of the year; +But remember, Karlene, I shall still be +Your doting old godfather, dear. + +When you hear Archimedes' conundrum, +Like enough you'll be wanting to try +Whether one little girl _contra mundum_ +Can't lift the old thing with a pry! + +You will turn up your nose at poor "Thy will," +With a haughty agnostical sniff, +Till you find the imperative "I will" +Has a future conditional "if." + +And then you will come to your senses, +And find out why women were made; +And men too; and why there are fences +All round the whole lot where you strayed, + +While you wore yourself down to a shadow +Yet failed to discover your sphere; +For you'll see Adam down in the meadow +And think what a goosey you were! + +And then when your classmates are singing +Once more for good-by the old glees, +And the round painted lanterns are swinging +And sputtering out in the trees, + +When everything stales and withers +Except the great stars up above, +Your heartstrings will all go to smithers, +You'll just be one crumple of love. + +And Adam will be such a duffer +(Dear fellow, I mean), he'll contrive, +Till you make him, to not make him suffer, +The happiest mortal alive. + +Oh, it makes me too ill to continue, +Imagining how it will be +When some dapper youth comes to win you +And smiles condescension on me! + +I shall loathe his immaculate breeding, +And advise you in time to refuse. +To think he will share in your reading, +And even unbutton your shoes! + +And yet when for that precious laddie +Your hair is all crinkled and curled, +I guess you'll be just like your daddy, +The dearest old soul in the world! + + + + +CONCERNING KAVIN. + + +When Kavin comes back from the barber, +Although he no longer is young, +One cheek is as soft as his heart, +And the other as smooth as his tongue. + + + + +KAVIN AGAIN. + + +It is not anything he says, +It's just his presence and his smile, +The blarney of his silences +That cocker and beguile. + + + + +ACROSS THE TABLE. To A. L. L. + + +Here's to you, Arthur! You and I +Have seen a lot of stormy weather, +Since first we clinked cups on the sly +At school together. + +The winds of fate have had their will +And blown our crafts so far apart +We hardly knew if either still +Were on the chart. + +But now I know the love of man +Is more than time or space or fate, +And laugh to scorn the powers that ban, +With you for mate. + +It's good to have you sitting by, +Old man, to prove the world no botch, +To shame the devil with your eye +And pass the Scotch. + + + + +BARNEY McGEE. + + +Barney McGee, there's no end of good luck in you, +Will-o'-the-wisp, with a flicker of Puck in you, +Wild as a bull-pup and all of his pluck in you,-- +Let a man tread on your coat and he'll see!-- +Eyes like the lakes of Killarney for clarity, +Nose that turns up without any vulgarity, +Smile like a cherub, and hair that is carroty,-- +Wow, you're a rarity, Barney McGee! +Mellow as Tarragon, +Prouder than Aragon-- +Hardly a paragon, +You will agree-- +Here's all that's fine to you! +Books and old wine to you! +Girls be divine to you, +Barney McGee! + +Lucky the day when I met you unwittingly, +Dining where vagabonds came and went flittingly. +Here's some _Barbera_ to drink it befittingly, +That day at _Silvio's_, Barney McGee! +Many's the time we have quaffed our Chianti there, +Listened to Silvio quoting us Dante there,-- +Once more to drink _Nebiolo spumante_ there, +How we'd pitch Pommery into the sea! +There where the gang of us +Met ere Rome rang of us, +They had the hang of us +To a degree. +How they would trust to you! +That was but just to you. +Here's o'er their dust to you, +Barney McGee! + +Barney McGee, when you're sober you scintillate, +But when you're in drink you're the pride of the intellect; +Divil a one of us ever came in till late, +Once at the bar where you happened to be-- +Every eye there like a spoke in you centering, +You with your eloquence, blarney, and bantering-- +All Vagabondia shouts at your entering, +King of the Tenderloin, Barney McGee! +There's no satiety +In your society +With the variety +Of your _esprit_. +Here's a long purse to you, +And a great thirst to you! +Fate be no worse to you, +Barney McGee! + +Och, and the girls whose poor hearts you deracinate, +Whirl and bewilder and flutter and fascinate! +Faith, it's so killing you are, you assassinate,-- +Murder's the word for you, Barney McGee! +Bold when they're sunny and smooth when they're showery,-- +Oh, but the style of you, fluent and flowery! +Chesterfield's way, with a touch of the Bowery! +How would they silence you, Barney _machree_? +Naught can your gab allay, +Learned as Rabelais +(You in his abbey lay +Once on the spree). +Here's to the smile of you, +(Oh, but the guile of you!) +And a long while of you, +Barney McGee! + +Facile with phrases of length and Latinity, +Like _honorificabilitudinity_, +Where is the maid could resist your vicinity, +Wiled by the impudent grace of your plea? +Then your vivacity and pertinacity +Carry the day with the divil's audacity; +No mere veracity robs your sagacity +Of perspicacity, Barney McGee. +When all is new to them, +What will you do to them? +Will you be true to them? +Who shall decree? +Here's a fair strife to you! +Health and long life to you! +And a great wife to you, +Barney McGee! + +Barney McGee, you're the pick of gentility; +Nothing can phase you, you've such a facility; +Nobody ever yet found your utility,-- +That is the charm of you, Barney McGee; +Under conditions that others would stammer in, +Still unperturbed as a cat or a Cameron, +Polished as somebody in the Decameron, +Putting the glamour on prince or Pawnee! +In your meanderin', +Love, and philanderin', +Calm as a mandarin +Sipping his tea! +Under the art of you, +Parcel and part of you, +Here's to the heart of you, +Barney McGee! + +You who were ever alert to befriend a man, +You who were ever the first to defend a man, +You who had always the money to lend a man, +Down on his luck and hard up for a V! +Sure, you'll be playing a harp in beatitude +(And a quare sight you will be in that attitude)-- +Some day, where gratitude seems but a platitude, +You'll find your latitude, Barney McGee. +That's no flim-flam at all, +Frivol or sham at all, +Just the plain--Damn it all, +Have one with me! +Here's luck and more to you! +Friends by the score to you, +True to the core to you, +Barney McGee! + + + + +THE SEA GYPSY. + + +I am fevered with the sunset, +I am fretful with the bay, +For the wander-thirst is on me +And my soul is in Cathay. + +There's a schooner in the offing, +With her topsails shot with fire, +And my heart has gone aboard her +For the Islands of Desire. + +I must forth again to-morrow! +With the sunset I must be +Hull down on the trail of rapture +In the wonder of the sea. + + + + +SPEECH AND SILENCE. + + +The words that pass from lip to lip +For souls still out of reach! +A friend for that companionship +That's deeper than all speech! + + + + +SECRETS. + + +Three secrets that never were said: +The stir of the sap in the spring, +The desire of a man to a maid, +The urge of a poet to sing. + + + + +THE FIRST JULEP. + + +I love the lazy Southern spring, +The way she melts around a chap +And lets the great magnolias fling +Their languid petals in his lap. + +I love to travel down half-way +And meet her coming up the earth, +With hurdy-gurdy men who play +And make the children dance for mirth. + +But best of all I love to steer +For quiet corners not too far, +Where the first juleps reappear +With fresh green mint behind the bar. + +P. S. Perhaps you'll think it queer, +But I do not dislike a hint +To let the juleps disappear +And stick my nose into the mint. + + + + +A STEIN SONG. + + +Give a rouse, then, in the Maytime +For a life that knows no fear! +Turn night-time into daytime +With the sunlight of good cheer! +For it's always fair weather +When good fellows get together, +With a stein on the table and a good song ringing clear. + +When the wind comes up from Cuba +And the birds are on the wing, +And our hearts are patting juba +To the banjo of the spring, +Then it's no wonder whether +The boys will get together, +With a stein on the table and a cheer for everything. + +For we're all frank-and-twenty +When the spring is in the air; +And we've faith and hope a-plenty, +And we've life and love to spare; +And it's birds of a feather +When we all get together, +With a stein on the table and a heart without a care. + +For we know the world is glorious, +And the goal a golden thing, +And that God is not censorious +When his children have their fling; +And life slips its tether +When the boys get together, +With a stein on the table in the fellowship of spring. + + + + +THE UNSAINTING OF KAVIN. + + +Saint Kavin was a gentleman, +He came from Tipperary; +And woman was the only thing +That ever made him scary. + +For Kavin was a tender youth, +And he was very simple; +He feared the wiles of maiden smiles, +And fainted at a dimple. + +But when Kathleen at seventeen +Came down the street one morning, +The luck of man came over him +And took him without warning. + +Afraid to meet a foolish fate +By green sea or by dry land, +He fled away without delay +And sought a desert island. + +But even there he felt despair; +For happiness is only +The hope of doing something else; +And he was very lonely. + +He vowed to lead a life of prayer +Because that he had lost her; +And every time he thought of her +He said a _Pater noster_. + +Yet hard it is for man to change +The less love for the greater; +And every time he reached _Amen_, +He must go back to _Pater_. + +And so he grew a year or two +Disconsolate and holy, +While friends he'd known long since had grown +Papas and roly-poly. + +Until one day, one blessed day, +A-moping like a Hindoo, +He saw Kathleen in mournful mien +A-passing by his window. + +He threw away his rosary, +His _Paters_ and his _Aves_; +For love is stronger than the wind +That wafts a thousand navies. + +The holy man went forth to war, +But not against the devil. +He led the maid within for shade, +And treated her most civil. + +He gave her cakes, he gave her wine, +He set his best before her; +And then invited her to dine-- +Thenceforth--with her adorer. + +Her little head went round for joy; +She tried to kick the rafter: +So Kavin was a saint no more, +And happy ever after. + + + + +IN THE WAYLAND WILLOWS. + + +Once I met a soncy maid, +Soncy maid, soncy maid, +Once I met a soncy maid +In the Wayland willows. + +All her hair was goldy brown, +Goldy brown, goldy brown, +In the sun a single braid +To her waist hung down. + +Honey bees, honey bees, +You are roving fellows! +Idly went the doxy wind +In the Wayland willows. + +There I caught her eye a-dance, +Through the catkins downy. +"Heigho, Brownie-pate," said I; +"Heigho," said my Brownie. + +Then I kissed my soncy maid, +Soncy maid, soncy maid, +Kissed and kissed my soncy maid +In the Wayland willows. + +Goldy eyes and goldy hair, +And little gypsy bosom, +Chin and lip and shoulder tip, +Blossom after blossom! + +Hand in hand and cheek by cheek +All the morning weather! +How the yellow butterflies +Danced and winked together! + +Till the day went down the hill +Where the shadows waded. +"Heigho, Soncy!" "Heigho, me!" +Then I did as day did. + +All her tousled beauty bright +And teasing as before, +I left her there in sweet despair, +A soncy maid no more. + + + + +WHEN I WAS TWENTY. + + +_It was June, and I was twenty. +All my wisdom, poor but plenty, +Never learned_ Festina lente. +_Youth is gone, but whither went he?_ + +Madeline came down the orchard +With a mischief in her eye, +Half demure and half inviting, +Melting, wayward, wistful, shy. + +Four bright eyes that found life lovely, +And forgot to wonder why; +Four warm lips at one love-lesson, +Learned by heart so easily. + +We gained something of that knowledge +No man ever yet put by, +But his after days of sorrow +Left him nothing but to die. + +Madeline went up the orchard, +Down the hurrying world went I; +Now I know love has no morrow, +Happiness no by-and-by. + +_Youth is gone, but whither went he? +All my wisdom, poor but plenty, +Never learned_ Festina lente. +_It was June, and I was twenty._ + + + + +IN A SILENCE + + +Heart to heart! +And the stillness of night and the moonlight, like hushed breathing +Silently, stealthily moving across thy hair! + +O womanly face! +Tender and strong and lucent with infinite feeling, +Shrinking with startled joy, like wind-struck water, +And yet so frank, so unashamed of love! + +Ay, for there it is, love--that's the deepest. +Love's not love in the dark. +Light loves wither i' the sun, but Love endureth, +Clothing himself with the light as with a robe. + +I would bare my soul to thy sight-- +Leave not a secret deep unsearched, +Unrevealing its shame or its glory. +Love without Truth shall die as a soul without God. +A lying love is the love of a day +But the brave and true shall love forever. + +Build Love a house; +Let the walls be thick; +Shut him in from the sight of men; +But hide not Love from himself. + +Ah, the summer night! +The wind in the trees and the moonlight! +And my kisses on thy throat +And thy breathing in my hair! + +Silent, lips to lips! +But our souls have held speech, thought answering echoing thought, +Though the only words were kisses. + + + + +THE BATHER. + + +I saw him go down to the water to bathe; +He stood naked upon the bank. + +His breast was like a white cloud in the heaven, + that catches the sun; +It swelled with the sharp joy of the air. + +His legs rose with the spring and curve of young birches; +The hollow of his back caught the blue shadows: + +With his head thrown up to the lips of the wind; +And the curls of his forehead astir with the wind. + +I would that I were a man, they are so beautiful; +Their bodies are like the bows of the Indians; +They have the spring and the grace of bows of hickory. + +I know that women are beautiful, and that I am beautiful; +But the beauty of a man is so lithe and alive and triumphant, +Swift as the night of a swallow and sure as the + pounce of the eagle. + + + + +NOCTURNE: IN ANJOU. + + +I dreamed of Sappho on a summer night. +Her nightingales were singing in the trees +Beside the castled river; and the wind +Fell like a woman's fingers on my cheek. +And then I slept and dreamed and marked no change; +The night went on with me into my dream. +This only I remember, that I cried: +"O Sappho! ere I leave this paradise, +Sing me one song of those lost books of yours +For which we poets still go sorrowing; +That when I meet my fellows on the earth +I may rejoice them more than many pearls;" +And she, the sweetly smiling, answered me, +As one who dreams, "I have forgotten them." + + + + +NOCTURNE: IN PROVENCE. + + +The blue night, like an angel, came into the room,-- +Came through the open window from the silent sky +Down trellised stairs of moonlight into the dear room +As if a whisper breathed of some divine one nigh. +The nightingales, like brooks of song in Paradise, +Gurgled their serene rapture to the silent sky-- +Like springs of laughter bubbling up in Paradise, +The serene nightingales along the riverside +Purled low in every tree their star-cool melodies +Of joy--in every tree along the riverside. + +Did the vain garments melt in music from your side? +Did you rise from them as a lily flowers i' the air? +--But you were there before me like the Night's own bride-- +I dared not call you mine. So still and tall you were, +I never dreamed that you were mine--I never dreamed +I loved you--I forgot I loved you. You were air +And music, and the shadows that you stood in, seemed +Like priests that keep their sombre vigil round a shrine-- +Like sombre priests that watch about a glorious shrine. + +And then you stepped into the moonlight and laid bare +The wonder of your body to the night, and stood +With all the stars of heaven looking at you there, +As simply as a saint might bare her soul to God-- +As simply as a saint might bathe in lakes of prayer-- +Stood with the holy moonlight falling on you there +Until I thought that in a glory unaware +I had seen a soul stand forth and bare itself to God-- +A saintly soul lay bare its innocence to God. + + + + +JUNE NIGHT IN WASHINGTON. + + +The scent of honeysuckle, +Drugging the twilight +With its sweet opiate of lovers' dreams! +The last red glow of the setting sun +On the red brick wall +Of the neighboring house, +And the scramble of red roses over it! + +Slowly, slowly +The night smokes up from the city to the stars, +The faint foreshadowed stars; +The smouldering night +Breathes upward like the breath +Of a woman asleep +With dim breast rising and falling +And a smile of delicate dreams. + +Softly, softly +The wind comes into the garden, +Like a lover that fears lest he waken his love, +And his hands drip with the scent of the roses +And his locks weep with the opiate odor of honeysuckle. +Sighing, sighing +As a lover that yearns for the lips of his love, +In a torment of bliss, +In a passionate dreaming of bliss, +The wind in the trees of the garden! + +How intimate are the trees,-- +Rustling like the secret darkness of the soul! +How still is the starlight,-- +Aloof in the placidity of dream! + +Outside the garden +A group of negroes passing in the street +Sing with ripe lush voices, +Sing with voices that swim +Like great slow gliding fishes +Through the scent of the honeysuckle: + +_My love's waitin', +Waitin' by the river, +Waitin' till I come along! +Wait there, child; I'm comin'. + +Jay-bird tol' me, +Tol' me in the mornin', +Tol' me she'd be there to-night. +Wait there, child; I'm comin'._ + +Waves of dream! +Spell of the summer night! +Will of the grass that stirs in its sleep! +Desire of the honeysuckle! +And further away, +Like the plash of far-off waves in the fluid night, +The negroes, singing: + +_Whip-po'-will tol' me, +Tol' me in the evenin', +"Down by the bend where the cat-tails grow." +Wait there, child; I'm comin'._ + +Lo, the moon, +Like a galleon sailing the night; +And the wash of the moonlight over the roofs and the trees! + +Oh, my bride, +Come down from yonder lattice where you bide +Like a charmed princess in a Persian song! +I look up at your yellow window-panes, +Set in the night with far-off wizardry. +Come down, come down; the night is fain of you, +The garden waits your footstep on its walks. + +Lo, the moon, +Like a galleon sailing the night; +And the wash of the moonlight over the red brick wall and the roses! + +A gleam of lamplight through an open door! +A footfall like the wind's upon the grass! +A rustle like the wind's among the leaves!... +Dim as a dream of pale peach blooms of light, +Blue in the blue soft pallor of the moon, +She comes between the trees as a faint tune +Falls from a flute far off into the night.... +So Death might come to one who knew him Love. + + + + +A SONG FOR MARNA. + + +Dame of the night of hair +Like blue smoke blown! +World yet undreamed-of there +Lurks to be known. + +Dame of the dizzy eyes, +Lure of dim quests! +World of what midnights lies +Under thy breasts! + +Dame of the quench of love, +Give me to quaff! +There's all the world's made of +Under thy laugh. + +Dame of the dare of gods, +Let the sky lower! +Time, give the world for odds,-- +I choose this hour. + + + + +SEPTEMBER WOODLANDS. + + +This is not sadness in the wood; +The yellowbird +Flits joying through the solitude, +By no thought stirred +Save of his little duskier mate +And rompings jolly. + +If there's a Dryad in the wood, +She is not sad. +Too wise the spirits are to brood; +Divinely glad, +They dream with countenance sedate +Not melancholy. + + + + +NANCIBEL. + + +The ghost of a wind came over the hill, +While day for a moment forgot to die, +And stirred the sheaves +Of the millet leaves, +As Nancibel went by. + +Out of the lands of Long Ago, +Into the land of By and By, +Faded the gleam +Of a journeying dream, +As Nancibel went by. + + + + +A VAGABOND SONG. + + +There is something in the autumn that is native to my blood-- +Touch of manner, hint of mood; +And my heart is like a rhyme, +With the yellow and the purple and the crimson keeping time. + +The scarlet of the maples can shake me like a cry +Of bugles going by. +And my lonely spirit thrills +To see the frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills. + +There is something in October sets the gypsy blood astir; +We must rise and follow her, +When from every hill of flame +She calls and calls each vagabond by name. + + + + +THREE OF A KIND. + + +Three of us without a care +In the red September +Tramping down the roads of Maine, +Making merry with the rain, +With the fellow winds a-fare +Where the winds remember. + +Three of us with shocking hats, +Tattered and unbarbered, +Happy with the splash of mud, +With the highways in our blood, +Bearing down on Deacon Platt's +Where last year we harbored. + +We've come down from Kennebec, +Tramping since last Sunday, +Loping down the coast of Maine, +With the sea for a refrain, +And the maples neck and neck +All the way to Fundy. + +Sometimes lodging in an inn, +Cosey as a dormouse-- +Sometimes sleeping on a knoll +With no rooftree but the Pole-- +Sometimes halely welcomed in +At an old-time farmhouse. + +Loafing under ledge and tree, +Leaping over boulders, +Sitting on the pasture bars, +Hail-fellow with storm or stars-- +Three of us alive and free, +With unburdened shoulders! + +Three of us with hearts like pine +That the lightnings splinter, +Clean of cleave and white of grain-- +Three of us afoot again, +With a rapture fresh and fine +As a spring in winter! + +All the hills are red and gold; +And the horns of vision +Call across the crackling air +Till we shout back to them there, +Taken captive in the hold +Of their bluff derision. + +Spray-salt gusts of ocean blow +From the rocky headlands; +Overhead the wild geese fly, +Honking in the autumn sky; +Black sinister flocks of crow +Settle on the dead lands. + +Three of us in love with life, +Roaming like wild cattle, +With the stinging air a-reel +As a warrior might feel +The swift orgasm of the knife +Slay him in mid-battle. + +Three of us to march abreast +Down the hills of morrow! +With a clean heart and a few +Friends to clench the spirit to!-- +Leave the gods to rule the rest, +And good-by, sorrow! + + + + +WOOD-FOLK LORE. To T. B. M. + + +For every one +Beneath the sun, +Where Autumn walks with quiet eyes, +There is a word, +Just overheard +When hill to purple hill replies. + +This afternoon, +As warm as June, +With the red apples on the bough, +I set my ear +To hark and hear +The wood-folk talking, you know how. + +There comes a "Hush!" +And then a "Tush," +As tree to scarlet tree responds, +"Babble away! +He'll not betray +The secrets of us vagabonds. + +"Are we not all, +Both great and small, +Cousins and kindred in a joy +No school can teach, +No worldling reach, +Nor any wreck of chance destroy?" + +And so we are, +However far +We journey ere the journey ends, +One brotherhood +With leaf and bud +And everything that wakes or wends. + +The wind that blows +My autumn rose +Where Grand Pre looks to Blomidon,-- +How great must be +The company +Of roses he has leaned upon, + +Since first he shed +Their petals red +Through Persian gardens long ago, +When Omar heard +His muttered word +Rumoring things we may not know! + +Our brother ghost, +He is a most +Incorrigible wanderer; +And still to-day +He takes his way +About my hills of spruce and fir; + +Will neither bide +By the great tide, +In apple lands of Acadie, +Nor in the leaves +About your eaves, +Where Scituate looks out to sea. + + + + +AT MICHAELMAS. + + +About the time of Michael's feast +And all his angels, +There comes a word to man and beast +By dark evangels. + +Then hearing what the wild things say +To one another, +Those creatures first born of our gray +Mysterious Mother, + +The greatness of the world's unrest +Steals through our pulses; +Our own life takes a meaning guessed +From the torn dulse's. + +The draft and set of deep sea-tides +Swirling and flowing, +Bears every filmy flake that rides, +Grandly unknowing. + +The sunlight listens; thin and fine +The crickets whistle; +And floating midges fill the shine +Like a seeding thistle. + +The hawkbit flies his golden flag +From rocky pasture, +Bidding his legions never lag +Through morning's vasture. + +Soon we shall see the red vines ramp +Through forest borders, +And Indian summer breaking camp +To silent orders. + +The glossy chestnuts swell and burst +Their prickly houses +Agog at news which reached them first +In sap's carouses. + +The long noons turn the ribstons red, +The pippins yellow; +The wild duck from his reedy bed +Summons his fellow. + +The robins keep the underbrush +Songless and wary, +As though they feared some frostier hush +Might bid them tarry; + +Perhaps in the great North they heard +Of silence falling +Upon the world without a word, +White and appalling. + +The ash-tree and the lady-fern, +In russet frondage, +Proclaim 'tis time for our return +To vagabondage. + +All summer idle have we kept; +But on a morning, +Where the blue hazy mountains slept, +A scarlet warning + +Disturbs our day-dream with a start; +A leaf turns over; +And every earthling is at heart +Once more a rover. + +All winter we shall toil and plod, +Eating and drinking; +But now's the little time when God +Sets folk to thinking. + +"Consider," says the quiet sun, +"How far I wander; +Yet when had I not time on one +More flower to squander?" + +"Consider," says the restless tide, +"My endless labor; +Yet when was I content beside +My nearest neighbor?" + +So wander-lust to wander-lure, +As seed to season, +Must rise and wend, possessed and sure +In sweet unreason. + +For doorstone and repose are good, +And kind is duty; +But joy is in the solitude +With shy-heart beauty. + +And Truth is one whose ways are meek +Beyond foretelling; +And far his journey who would seek +Her lowly dwelling. + +She leads him by a thousand heights, +Lonelily faring, +With sunrise and with eagle flights +To mate his daring. + +For her he fronts a vaster fog +Than Leif of yore did, +Voyaging for continents no log +Has yet recorded. + +He travels by a polar star, +Now bright, now hidden, +For a free land, though rest be far +And roads forbidden, + +Till on a day with sweet coarse bread +And wine she stays him, +Then in a cool and narrow bed +To slumber lays him. + +So we are hers. And, fellows mine +Of fin and feather, +By shady wood and shadowy brine, +When comes the weather + +For migrants to be moving on, +By lost indenture +You flock and gather and are gone: +The old adventure! + +I too have my unwritten date, +My gypsy presage; +And on the brink of fall I wait +The darkling message. + +The sign, from prying eyes concealed, +Is yet how flagrant! +Here's ragged-robin in the field, +A simple vagrant. + + + + +THE MOTHER OF POETS. To H. F. H. + + +The typewriter ticketh no more in the twilight; +The mother of poets is sitting alone; +Only the katydid teases the noonday; +Where are the good-for-naught wanderbirds flown? + +Tom's in the North with his purple impressions; +Dickon's in London a-building his fame; +Fred's in the mountains a-minding his cattle; +Kavanagh's teaching and preaching and game. + +Over in Kingscroft a toiler is writing, +The boyish Old Man whom no fate ever floored; +Karl's in New York with his briefs and his logic, +That subtile mind like a velvet-sheathed sword. + +Blomidon welcomes his brother in silence; +Grand Pre is luring him back to her breast; +Faint and far off are the cries of the city, +There in the country of infinite rest. + +All of them turn in their wide vagabondage, +Halt and remember a place they have known, +Where the typewriter ticketh no more in the twilight, +And the mother of poets is sitting alone. + +There they will surely some April forgather, +Drink once together before they depart, +One by one over the threshold of silence, +On the long trail of the wandering heart. + +Fear not, little mother, there may be a region +Where poets have only to smile and keep still. +The tick of the typewriter there will be useless, +But there will be need of a motherkin still. + + + + +A GOOD-BY. + + +For love of the roving foot +And joy of the roving eye, +God send you store of morrows fair +And a good rest by and by! + + + + +IN A COPY OF BROWNING. + + +Browning, old fellow, +Your leaves grow yellow, +Beginning to mellow +As seasons pass. +Your cover is wrinkled, +And stained and sprinkled, +And warped and crinkled +From sleep on the grass. + +Is it a wine stain, +Or only a pine stain, +That makes such a fine stain +On your dull blue,-- +Got as we numbered +The clouds that lumbered +Southward and slumbered +When day was through? + +What is the dear mark +There like an earmark, +Only a tear mark +A woman let fall?-- +As bending over +She bade me discover, +"Who _plays_ the lover, +He loses all!" + +With you for teacher +We learned love's feature +In every creature +That roves or grieves; +When winds were brawling, +Or bird-folk calling, +Or leaf-folk falling, +About our eaves. + +No law must straiten +The ways they wait in, +Whose spirits greaten +And hearts aspire. +The world may dwindle, +And summer brindle, +So love but kindle +The soul to fire. + +Here many a red line, +Or pencilled headline, +Shows love could wed line +To golden sense; +And something better +Than wisdom's fetter +Has made your letter +Dense to the dense. + +No April robin, +Nor clacking bobbin, +Can make of Dobbin +A Pegasus; +But Nature's pleading +To man's unheeding, +Your subtile reading +Made clear to us. + +You made us farers +And equal sharers +With homespun wearers +In home-made joys; +You made us princes +No plea convinces +That spirit winces +At dust and noise. + +When Fate was nagging, +And days were dragging, +And fancy lagging, +You gave it scope,-- +When eaves were drippy, +And pavements slippy,-- +From Lippo Lippi +To Evelyn Hope. + +When winter's arrow +Pierced to the marrow, +And thought was narrow, +You gave it room; +We guessed the warder +On Roland's border, +And helped to order +The Bishop's Tomb. + +When winds were harshish, +And ways were marshish, +We found with Karshish +Escape at need; +Were bold with Waring +In far seafaring, +And strong in snaring +Ben Ezra's creed. + +We felt the menace +Of lovers pen us, +Afloat in Venice +Devising fibs; +And little mattered +The rain that pattered, +While Blougram chattered +To Gigadibs. + +And we too waited +With heart elated +And breathing bated, +For Pippa's song; +Saw Satan hover, +With wings to cover +Porphyria's lover, +Pompilia's wrong. + +Long thoughts were started, +When youth departed +From the half-hearted +Riccardi's bride; +For, saith your fable, +Great Love is able +To slip the cable +And take the tide. + +Or truth compels us +With Paracelsus, +Till nothing else is +Of worth at all. +Del Sarto's vision +Is our own mission, +And art's ambition +Is God's own call. + +Through all the seasons, +You gave us reasons +For splendid treasons +To doubt and fear; +Bade no foot falter, +Though weaklings palter, +And friendships alter +From year to year. + +Since first I sought you, +Found you and bought you, +Hugged you and brought you +Home from Cornhill, +While some upbraid you, +And some parade you, +Nine years have made you +My master still. + + + + +SHAKESPEARE HIMSELF: FOR THE UNVEILING +OF MR. PARTRIDGE'S STATUE +OF THE POET. + + +The body is no prison where we lie +Shut out from our true heritage of sun; +It is the wings wherewith the soul may fly. +Save through this flesh so scorned and spat upon, +No ray of light had reached the caverned mind, +No thrill of pleasure through the life had run, +No love of nature or of humankind, +Were it but love of self, had stirred the heart +To its first deed. Such freedom as we find, +We find but through its service, not apart. +And as an eagle's wings upbear him higher +Than Andes or Himalaya, and chart +Rivers and seas beneath; so our desire, +With more celestial members yet, may soar +Into the space of empyrean fire, +Still bodied but more richly than before. + +The body is the man; what lurks behind +Through it alone unveils itself. Therefore +We are not wrong, who seek to keep in mind +The form and feature of the mighty dead. +So back of all the giving is divined +The giver, back of all things done or said +The man himself in elemental speech +Of flesh and bone and sinew uttered. + +This is thy language, Sculpture. Thine to reach +Beneath all thoughts, all feelings, all desires, +To that which thinks and lives and loves, and teach +The world the primal selfhood of its sires, +Its heroes and its lovers and its gods. +So shall Apollo flame in marble fires, +The mien of Zeus suffice before he nods, +So Gautama in ivory dream out +The calm of Time's untrammelled periods, +So Sigurd's lips be in themselves a shout. + +Mould us our Shakespeare, sculptor, in the form +His comrades knew, rare Ben and all the rout +That found the taproom of the Mermaid warm +With wit and wine and fellowship, the face +Wherein the men he chummed with found a charm +To make them love him; carve for us the grace +That caught Anne Hathaway in Shottery-side, +The hand that clasped Southampton's in the days +Ere that dark dame, of passion and of pride +Burned in his heart the brand of her disdain, +The eyes that wept when little Hamnet died, +The lips that learned from Marlowe's and again +Taught riper lore to Fletcher and the rest, +The presence and demeanor sovereign +At last at Stratford calm and manifest, +That rested on the seventh day and scanned +His work and knew it good, and left the quest +And like his own enchanter broke his wand. + +No viewless mind! The very shape, no less, +He used to speak and smile with, move and stand! +God is most God not in his loneliness, +Unfellowed, discreationed, unrevealed, +Nor thundering on Sinai, pitiless, +Nor when the seven vials are unsealed, +But when his spirit companions with our thought +And in his fellowship our pain is healed; +And we are likest God when we are brought +Most near to all men. Bring us near to him, +The gentle, human soul whose calm might wrought +Imperious Lear and made our eyes grow dim +For Imogen,--who, though he heard the spheres +"Still choiring to the young-eyed cherubim," +Could laugh with Falstaff and his loose compeers +And love the rascal with the same big heart +That o'er Cordelia could not stay its tears. + +For still the man is greater than his art. +And though thy men and women, Shakespeare, rise +Like giants in our fancy and depart, +Thyself art more than all their masteries, +Thy wisdom more than Hamlet's questionings +Or the cold searching of Ulysses' eyes, +Thy mirth more sweet than Benedick's flouts and flings, +Thy smiling dearer than Mercutio's, +Thy dignity past that of all thy kings, +And thy enchantment more than Prospero's. + +For thou couldst not have had Othello's flaw, +Not erred with Brutus,--greater, then, than those +For all their nobleness. Oh, albeit with awe, +Leave we the mighty phantoms and draw near +The man that fashioned them and gave them law! +The Master Poet found with scarce a peer +In all the ages his domain to share, +Yet of all singers gentlest and most dear! +Oh, how shall words thy proper praise declare, +Divine in thy supreme humanity +And near as the inevitable air? + +So he that wrought this image deemed of thee; +So I, thy lover, keep thee in my heart; +So may this figure set for men to see +Where the world passes eager for the mart, +Be as a sudden insight of the soul +That makes a darkness into order start, +And lift thee up for all men, fair and whole, +Till scholar, merchant farmer, artisan, +Seeing, divine beneath the aureole +The fellow heart and know thee for a man. + + + + +AT THE ROAD-HOUSE: IN MEMORY OF +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +You hearken, fellows? Turned aside +Into the road-house of the past! +The prince of vagabonds is gone +To house among his peers at last. + +The stainless gallant gentleman, +So glad of life, he gave no trace, +No hint he even once beheld +The spectre peering in his face; + +But gay and modest held the road, +Nor feared the Shadow of the Dust; +And saw the whole world rich with joy, +As every valiant farer must. + +I think that old and vasty inn +Will have a welcome guest to-night, +When Chaucer, breaking off some tale +That fills his hearers with delight, + +Shall lift up his demure brown eyes +To bid the stranger in; and all +Will turn to greet the one on whom +The crystal lot was last to fall. + +Keats of the more than mortal tongue +Will take grave Milton by the sleeve +To meet their kin, whose woven words +Had elvish music in the weave. + +Dear Lamb and excellent Montaigne, +Sterne and the credible Defoe, +Borrow, DeQuincey, the great Dean, +The sturdy leisurist Thoreau; + +The furtive soul whose dark romance, +By ghostly door and haunted stair, +Explored the dusty human heart +And the forgotten garrets there; + +The moralist it could not spoil, +To hold an empire in his hands; +Sir Walter, and the brood who sprang +From Homer through a hundred lands, + +Singers of songs on all men's lips, +Tellers of tales in all men's ears, +Movers of hearts that still must beat +To sorrows feigned and fabled tears; + +Horace and Omar, doubting still +What mystery lurks beyond the seen, +Yet blithe and reassured before +That fine unvexed Virgilian mien; + +These will companion him to-night, +Beyond this iron wintry gloom, +When Shakespeare and Cervantes bid +The great joy-masters give him room. + +No alien there in speech or mood, +He will pass in, one traveller more; +And portly Ben will smile to see +The velvet jacket at the door. + + + + +VERLAINE. + + +Avid of life and love, insatiate vagabond, +With quest too furious for the graal he would have won, +He flung himself at the eternal sky, as one +Wrenching his chains but impotent to burst the bond. + +Yet under the revolt, the revel, the despond, +What pools of innocence, what crystal benison! +As through a riven mist that glowers in the sun, +A stretch of God's blue calm glassed in a virgin pond. + +Prowler of obscene streets that riot reek along, +And aisles with incense numb and gardens mad with rose, +Monastic cells and dreams of dim brocaded lawns, + +Death, which has set the calm of Time upon his song, +Surely upon his soul has kissed the same repose +In some fair heaven the Christ has set apart for Fauns. + + + + +DISTILLATION. + + +They that eat the uncrushed grape +Walk with steady heels: +Lo, now, how they stare and gape +Where the poet reels! +He has drunk the sheer divine +Concentration of the vine. + + + + +A FRIEND'S WISH. To C. W. S. + + +Give me your last _Aloha_, +When I go out of sight, +Over the dark rim of the sea +Into the Polar night! + +And all the Northland give you +_Skoal_ for the voyage begun, +When your bright summer sail goes down +Into the zones of sun! + + + + +LAL OF KILRUDDEN. + + +Kilrudden ford, Kilrudden dale, +Kilrudden fronting every gale +On the lorn coast of Inishfree, +And Lal's last bed the plunging sea. + +Lal of Kilrudden with flame-red hair, +And the sea-blue eyes that rove and dare, +And the open heart with never a care; +With her strong brown arms and her ankles bare, +God in heaven, but she was fair, +That night the storm put in from sea? + +The nightingales of Inishkill, +The rose that climbed her window-sill, +The shade that rustled or was still, +The wind that roved and had his will, +And one white sail on the low sea-hill, +Were all she knew of love. + +So when the storm drove in that day, +And her lover's ship on the ledges lay, +Past help and wrecking in the gray, +And the cry was, "Who'll go down the bay, +With half of the lifeboat's crew away?" +Who should push to the front and say, +"I will be one, be others who may," +But Lal of Kilrudden, born at sea! + +The nightingales all night in the rain, +The rose that fell at her window-pane, +The frost that blackened the purple plain, +And the scorn of pitiless disdain +At the hands of the wolfish pirate main, +Quelling her great hot heart in vain, +Were all she knew of death. + +Kilrudden ford, Kilrudden dale, +Kilrudden ruined in the gale +That wrecked the coast of Inishfree, +And Lal's last bed the plunging sea. + + + + +HUNTING-SONG: FROM "KING ARTHUR." + + +Oh, who would stay indoor, indoor, +When the horn is on the hill? (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +With the crisp air stinging, and the huntsmen singing, +And a ten-tined buck to kill! + +Before the sun goes down, goes down, +We shall slay the buck of ten; (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +And the priest shall say benison, and we shall ha'e venison, +When we come home again. + +Let him that loves his ease, his ease, +Keep close and house him fair; (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +He'll still be a stranger to the merry thrill of danger +And the joy of the open air. + +But he that loves the hills, the hills, +Let him come out to-day! (_Bugle:_ Tarantara! +For the horses are neighing, and the hounds are baying, +And the hunt's up, and away! + + + + +BUIE ANNAJOHN. + + +Buie Annajohn was the king's black mare, +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn! +Satin was her coat and silk was her hair, +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +March with the white moon, march with the sun, +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn! + +Buie Annajohn, when the dew lay hoar, +(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!) +Down through the meadowlands went to war,-- +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +March by the river road, march by the dune, +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn! + +Buie Annajohn had the heart of flame, +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn! +First of the hosts to the hostings came +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +March till we march the red sun down, +March with the merry men, Buie Annajohn! + +Back from the battle at the close of day, +(Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn!) +Came with the war cheers, came with a neigh, +Buie Annajohn, +The young king's own. +Oh, heavy was the sword that we laid on; +But half of the heave was Buie Annajohn, +Buie, Buie, Buie Annajohn! + + + + +MARY OF MARKA. + + +Eric of Marka holds the knife: +"A nameless death for a nameless life."-- + +"Mary of Marka, bid him stay, +And the morrow shall be our wedding-day."-- + +"Will the blessing of priest give back my faith, +Or life to the child you left to death?"-- + +Eric of Marka holds the knife, +And turns to the mother that is no wife: + +"Mary of Marka, have your will! +Shall I spare him, or shall I kill?"-- + +"He wrought me wrong when the days were sweet, +And he'll get no more but a winding-sheet." + + + + +PREMONITION. + + +He said, "Good-night, my heart is light, +To-morrow morn at day +We two together in the dew +Shall forth and fare away. + +"We shall go down, the halls of dawn +To find the doors of joy; +We shall not part again, dear heart." +And he laughed out like a boy. + +He turned and strode down the blue road +Against the western sky +Where the last line of sunset glowed +As sullen embers die. + +The night reached out her kraken arms +To clutch him as he passed, +And for one sudden moment +My soul shrank back aghast. + + + + +THE HEARSE-HORSE. + + +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin, +"What the devil have you there? +I may trot from court to square, +Yet it neither swears nor groans, +When I jolt it over stones." +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse, +"Bones!" + +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin, +"What the devil have you there, +With that purple frozen stare? +Where the devil has it been +To get that shadow grin?" +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse, +"Skin!" + +Said the hearse-horse to the coffin, +"What the devil have you there? +It has fingers, it has hair; +Yet it neither kicks nor squirms +At the undertaker's terms." +Said the coffin to the hearse-horse, +"Worms!" + + + + +THE NIGHT-WASHERS. + + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the brothers of ghouls, and who +In the name of the Crooked Saints are you? + +We are the washers of shrouds wherein +The lovers of beauty who sainted sin +Sleep till the Judgment Day begin. + +When the moon is drifting overhead, +We wash the linen of the dead, +Stained with yellow and stiff with red. + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the foul night-washers, and who, +By the Seven Lovely sins are you? + +Here we sit by the river reeds, +Rinsing the linen that reeks and bleeds, +And craving the help our labor needs. + +Come, Sir Fop, fall to, fall to! +Show us for once what you can do! +One day there'll be washing enough for you. + +Wade in, wade in, where the river runs +Clear in the moonlight over the stones! +It'll wash the ache from your scrofulous bones. + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the gossips of fame, and who +By the Sinners' Litany are you? + +Wade in, wade in! The water is cold, +The stains are deep, and the linen is old; +But surely the sons of the town are bold! + +Work for us here till the break of day +At washing the stains of the dead away, +And you shall be merry, come what may! + +From now till your ninetieth year begins, +You shall sin the Seven Lovely sins, +While wearing the virtue a cardinal wins. + +Refuse, and your arms shall be broken and wried, +To dangle like fenders over the side +Of an empty ship on the harbor tide! + +They shall gather a waist in their grip no more, +As you wander the wide world over and o'er, +With the curs at your heels from door to door. + +With only a stranger to cover your face, +You shall die in the streets of an outcast race, +And your linen be washed in the market-place! + +Whe-ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh! +We are the Scavenger Saints, but who +In the name of the Shadowy Kin are you? + + + + +MR. MOON: A SONG OF THE LITTLE +PEOPLE. + + +O Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? +Down on the hilltop, +Down in the glen, +Out in the clearin', +To play with little men? +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Hurry up your stumps! +Don't you hear Bullfrog +Callin' to his wife, +And old black Cricket +A-wheezin' at his fife? +Hurry up your stumps, +And get on your pumps! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Hurry up along! +The reeds in the current +Are whisperin' slow; +The river's a-wimplin' +To and fro. +Or you'll miss the song! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're all here! +Honey-bug, Thistledrift, +White-imp, Weird, +Wryface, Billiken, +Quidnunc, Queered; +We're all here, +And the coast is clear! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're the little men! +Dewlap, Pussymouse, +Ferntip, Freak, +Drink-again, Shambler, +Talkytalk, Squeak; +Three times ten +Of us little men! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're all ready! +Tallenough, Squaretoes, +Amble, Tip, +Buddybud, Heigho, +Little black Pip; +We're all ready, +And the wind walks steady! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +We're thirty score; +Yellowbeard, Piper, +Lieabed, Toots, +Meadowbee, Moonboy, +Bully-in-boots; +Three times more +Than thirty score. +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Keep your eye peeled; +Watch out to windward, +Or you'll miss the fun, +Down by the acre +Where the wheat-waves run; +Keep your eye peeled +For the open field. +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +There's not much time! +Hurry, if you're comin', +You lazy old bones! +You can sleep to-morrow +While the Buzbuz drones; +There's not much time +Till the church bells chime. +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Mr. Moon, +Just see the clover! +Soon we'll be going +Where the Gray Goose went +When all her money +Was spent, spent, spent! +Down through the clover, +When the revel's over! +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + +O Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? +Down where the Good Folk +Dance in a ring, +Down where the Little Folk +Sing? +Moon, Mr. Moon, +When you comin' down? + + + + +HEM AND HAW. + + +Hem and Haw were the sons of sin, +Created to shally and shirk; +Hem lay 'round and Haw looked on +While God did all the work. + +Hem was a fogy, and Haw was a prig, +For both had the dull, dull mind; +And whenever they found a thing to do, +They yammered and went it blind. + +Hem was the father of bigots and bores; +As the sands of the sea were they. +And Haw was the father of all the tribe +Who criticise to-day. + +But God was an artist from the first, +And knew what he was about; +While over his shoulder sneered these two, +And advised him to rub it out. + +They prophesied ruin ere man was made: +"Such folly must surely fail!" +And when he was done, "Do you think, my Lord, +He's better without a tail?" + +And still in the honest working world, +With posture and hint and smirk, +These sons of the devil are standing by +While Man does all the work. + +They balk endeavor and baffle reform, +In the sacred name of law; +And over the quavering voice of Hem +Is the droning voice of Haw. + + + + +ACCIDENT IN ART. + + +That painter has not with a careless smutch +Accomplished his despair?--one touch revealing +All he had put of life, thought, vigor, feeling, +Into the canvas that without that touch +Showed of his love and labor just so much +Raw pigment, scarce a scrap of soul concealing! +What poet has not found his spirit kneeling +A sudden at the sound of such or such +Strange verses staring from his manuscript, +Written he knows not how, but which will sound +Like trumpets down the years? So Accident +Itself unmasks the likeness of Intent, +And ever in blind Chance's darkest crypt +The shrine-lamp of God's purposing is found. + + + + +IN A GARDEN. + + +Thought is a garden wide and old +For airy creatures to explore, +Where grow the great fantastic flowers +With truth for honey at the core. + +There like a wild marauding bee +Made desperate by hungry fears, +From gorgeous _If_ to dark _Perhaps_ +I blunder down the dusk of years. + + + + +AT THE END OF THE DAY. + + +There is no escape by the river, +There is no flight left by the fen; +We are compassed about by the shiver +Of the night of their marching men. +Give a cheer! +For our hearts shall not give way. +Here's to a dark to-morrow, +And here's to a brave to-day! + +The tale of their hosts is countless, +And the tale of ours a score; +But the palm is naught to the dauntless, +And the cause is more and more. +Give a cheer! +We may die, but not give way. +Here's to a silent morrow, +And here's to a stout to-day! + +God has said: "Ye shall fail and perish; +But the thrill ye have felt to-night +I shall keep in my heart and cherish +When the worlds have passed in night." +Give a cheer! +For the soul shall not give way. +Here's to the greater to-morrow +That is born of a great to-day! + +Now shame on the craven truckler +And the puling things that mope! +We've a rapture for our buckler +That outwears the wings of hope. +Give a cheer! +For our joy shall not give way. +Here's in the teeth of to-morrow +To the glory of to-day! + + + + +THIS BOOK WAS PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON +AND SON, AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, CAMBRIDGE, +MASSACHUSETTS, DURING OCTOBER, +1896. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of More Songs From Vagabondia, by +Bliss Carman and Richard Hovey + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE SONGS FROM VAGABONDIA *** + +***** This file should be named 18007.txt or 18007.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/0/18007/ + +Produced by Thierry Alberto, Paul Motsuk and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by the Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions +(www.canadiana.org)) + + +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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