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+Project Gutenberg's A Woman's Love Letters, by Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
+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: A Woman's Love Letters
+
+Author: Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
+Release Date: May 8, 2006 [EBook #18351]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN'S LOVE LETTERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Christine D. 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))
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Fleur de Lis Poets.
+
+A WOMAN'S
+
+LOVE LETTERS.
+
+BY SOPHIE M. ALMON-HENSLEY
+
+
+
+    NEW YORK. J. SELWIN TAIT
+    AND SONS, NUMBER SIXTY-FIVE
+    FIFTH AVENUE.
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1895
+
+    BY
+    J. SELWIN TAIT & SONS
+    NEW YORK
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+    A Dream,                         1
+    Dream-Song,                      8
+    Doubt,                           9
+    Song,                           13
+    Anticipation,                   14
+    Song,                           18
+    Misunderstanding,               19
+    Shadow-Song,                    23
+    Revulsion,                      24
+    A Song of Dawn,                 27
+    Weariness,                      28
+    A Song of Rest,                 31
+    Death,                          33
+    Battle-Song,                    38
+    Content,                        39
+    Sea-Song,                       42
+    Gratitude,                      44
+    Song,                           48
+    Prayer,                         49
+    Song,                           53
+    Loneliness,                     54
+    Sea-Song,                       57
+    Incompleteness,                 59
+    Song,                           65
+    Life's Joys,                    65
+    Song,                           70
+    Barter,                         72
+    Song,                           76
+    To-morrow,                      78
+    Song,                           82
+
+
+
+
+A Dream.
+
+    I stood far off above the haunts of men
+      Somewhere, I know not, when the sky was dim
+      From some worn glory, and the morning hymn
+    Of the gay oriole echoed from the glen.
+      Wandering, I felt earth's peace, nor knew I sought
+      A visioned face, a voice the wind had caught.
+
+    I passed the waking things that stirred and gazed,
+      Thought-bound, and heeded not; the waking flowers
+      Drank in the morning mist, dawn's tender showers,
+    And looked forth for the Day-god who had blazed
+      His heart away and died at sundown. Far
+      In the gray west faded a loitering star.
+
+    It seemed that I had wandered through long years,
+      A life of years, still seeking gropingly
+      A thing I dared not name; now I could see
+    In the still dawn a hope, in the soft tears
+      Of the deep-hearted violets a breath
+      Of kinship, like the herald voice of Death.
+
+    Slow moved the morning; where the hill was bare
+      Woke a reluctant breeze. Dimly I knew
+      My Day was come. The wind-blown blossoms threw
+    Their breath about me, and the pine-swept air
+      Grew to a shape, a mighty, formless thing,
+      A phantom of the wood's imagining.
+
+    And as I gazed, spell-bound, it seemed to move
+      Its tendril limbs, still swaying tremulously
+      As if in spirit-doubt; then glad and free
+    Crystalled the being won from waiting grove
+      Into a human likeness. There he stood,
+      The vine-browed shape of Nature's mortal mood.
+
+    "Now have I found thee, Vision I have sought
+      These years, unknowing; surely thou art fair
+      And inly wise, and on thy tasselled hair
+    Glows Heaven's own light. Passion and fame are naught
+      To thy clear eyes, O Prince of many lands,--
+      Grant me thy joy," I cried, and stretched my hands.
+
+    No answer but the flourish of the breeze
+      Through the black pines. Then, slowly, as the wind
+      Parts the dense cloud-forms, leaving naught behind
+    But shapeless vapor, through the budding trees
+      Drifted some force unseen, and from my sight
+      Faded my god into the morning light.
+
+    Again alone. With wistful, straining eyes
+      I waited, and the sunshine flecked the bank
+      Happy with arbutus and violets where I sank
+    Hearing, near by, a host of melodies,
+      The rapture of the woodthrush; soft her mood
+      The love-mate, with such golden numbers woo'd.
+
+    He ceased; the fresh moss-odors filled the grove
+      With a strange sweetness, the dark hemlock boughs
+      Moved soft, as though they heard the brooklet rouse
+    To its spring soul, and whisper low of love.
+      The white-robed birches stood unbendingly
+      Like royal maids, in proud expectancy.
+
+    Athwart the ramage where the young leaves press
+      It came to me, ah, call it what you will
+      Vision or waking dream, I see it still!
+    Again a form born of the woodland stress
+      Grew to my gaze, and by some secret sign
+      Though shadow-hid, I knew the form was thine.
+
+    The glancing sunlight made thy ruddy hair
+      A crown of gold, but on thy spirit-face
+      There was no smile, only a tender grace
+    Of love half doubt. Upon thy hand a rare
+      Wild bird of Paradise perched fearlessly
+      With radiant plumage and still, lustrous eye.
+
+    And as I gazed I saw what I had deemed
+      A shadow near thy hand, a dusky wing,
+      A bird like last year's leaves, so dull a thing
+    Beside its fellow; as the sunshine gleamed
+    Each breast showed letters bright as crystalled rain,
+      The fair bird bore "Delight," the other "Pain."
+
+    Then came thy voice: "O Love, wilt have my gift?"
+      I stretched my glad hands eagerly to grasp
+      The heaven-blown bird, gold-hued, and longed to clasp
+    It close and know it mine. Ere I might lift
+      The shining thing and hold it to my breast
+      Again I heard thy voice with vague unrest.
+
+    "These are twin birds and may not parted be."
+      Full in thine eyes I gazed, and read therein
+      The paradox of life, of love, of sin,
+    As on a night of cloud and mystery
+      One darting flash makes bright the hidden ways,
+      And feet tread knowingly though thick the haze.
+
+    Thy gift, if so I chose,--no other hand
+      Save thine.--I reached and gathered to my heart
+      The quivering, sentient things.--Sometimes I start
+    To know them hidden there.--If I should stand
+      Idly, some day, and _one_,--God help me!--breast
+      A homing breeze,--my _brown_ bird knows _its_ nest.
+
+
+
+
+Dream-Song.
+
+    Cam'st thou not nigh to me
+    In that one glimpse of thee
+    When thy lips, tremblingly,
+        Said: "My Beloved."
+    'Twas but a moment's space,
+    And in that crowded place
+    I dared not scan thy face
+        O! my Beloved.
+
+    Yet there may come a time
+    (Though loving be a crime
+    Only allowed in rhyme
+        To us, Beloved),
+    When safe 'neath sheltering arm
+    I may, without alarm,
+    Hear thy lips, close and warm,
+        Murmur: "Beloved!"
+
+
+
+
+Doubt.
+
+    I do not know if all the fault be mine,
+      Or why I may not think of thee and be
+      At peace with mine own heart. Unceasingly
+    Grim doubts beset me, bygone words of thine
+      Take subtle meaning, and I cannot rest
+      Till all my fears and follies are confessed.
+
+    Perhaps the wild wind's questioning has brought
+      My heart its melancholy, for, alone
+      In the night stillness, I can hear him moan
+    In sobbing gusts, as though he vainly sought
+      Some bygone bliss. Against the dripping pane
+      In storm-blown torrents beats the driving rain.
+
+    Nay I will tell thee all, I will not hide
+      One thought from thee, and if I do thee wrong
+      So much the more must I be brave and strong
+    To show my fault. And if thou then shouldst chide
+      I will accept reproof most willingly
+      So it but bringeth peace to thee and me.
+
+    I dread thy past. Phantoms of other days
+      Pursue my vision. There are other hands
+      Which thou hast held, perchance some slender bands
+    That draw thee still to other woodland ways
+      Than those which _we_ have known, some blissful hours
+      I do not share, of love, and June, and flowers.
+
+    I dread her most, that woman whom thou knewest
+      Those years ago,--I cannot bear to think
+      That she can say: "My lover praised the pink
+    Of palm, or ear," "The violets were bluest
+      In that dear copse," and dream of some fair day
+      When thou didst while her summer hours away.
+
+    I dread them too, those light loves and desires
+      That lie in the dim shadow of the years;
+      I fain would cheat myself of all my fears
+    And, as a child watching warm winter fires,
+      Dream not of yesterday's black embers, nor
+      To-morrow's ashes that may strew the floor.
+
+    I did not dream of this while thou wert near,
+      But now the thought that haunts me day by day
+      Is that the things I love, the tender way
+    Of mastery, the kisses that are dear
+      As Heaven's best gifts, to other lips and arms
+      Owe half their blessedness and all their charms.
+
+    Tell me that I am wrong, O! Man of men,
+      Surely it is not hard to comfort me,
+      Laugh at my fears with dear persistency,
+    Nay, if thou must, lie to me! There, again,
+      I hear the rain, and the wind's wailing cry
+      Stirs with wild life the night's monotony.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+              If I had known
+    That when the morrow dawned the roses would be dead
+    I would have filled my hands with blossoms white and red.
+              If I had known!
+
+              If I had known
+    That I should be to-day deaf to all happy birds
+    I would have lain for hours to listen to your words.
+              If I had known!
+
+              If I had known
+    That with the morning light you would be gone for aye
+    I would have been more kind;--sweet Love had won his way
+              If I had known.
+
+
+
+
+Anticipation.
+
+    Let us peer forward through the dusk of years
+      And force the silent future to reveal
+      Her store of garnered joys; we may not kneel
+    For ever, and entreat our bliss with tears.
+      Somewhere on this drear earth the sunshine lies,
+      Somewhere the air breathes Heaven-blown harmonies.
+
+    Some day when you and I have fully learned
+      Our waiting-lesson, wondering, hand in hand
+      We shall gaze out upon an unknown land,
+    Our thoughts and our desires forever turned
+      From our old griefs, as swallows, home warding,
+      Sweep ever southward with unwearied wing.
+
+    We shall fare forth, comrades for evermore.
+      Though the ill-omened bird Time loves to bear
+      Has brushed this cheek and left an impress there
+    I shall be fierce and dauntless as of yore,
+      Free as a bird o'er the wide world to rove,
+      And strong and fearless, O my Love, to love.
+
+    What have we now? The haunting, vague unrest
+      Of incompleted measures; and we dream
+      Vainly, of the Musician and His theme,
+    How the great Master in a day most blest
+      Shall strike some mighty chords in harmony,
+      And make an end, and set the music free!
+
+    We snatch from Fate our moments of delight,
+      Few as, in April hours, the wooing calls
+      Of orioles, or when the twilight falls
+    First o'er the forest ere the approach of night
+      The eyes of evening;--and Love's song is sung
+      But once, Dear Heart, but once, and we are young.
+
+    Over the seas together, you and I,
+      'Neath blue Italian skies, or on the hills
+      Of storied Greece,--where the warm sunlight fills
+    Spain's mellow vineyards,--wandering reverently
+      O'er the green plains of Palestine,--our days
+      A golden holiday in Old World ways.
+
+    Yet would we linger not by southern shores;
+      The bracing breath of Scandinavian snows
+      Would draw us from our dreams. The North wind blows
+    Upon thy cheek, my Norseman, and the roars
+      Of the wild Baltic sound within my ears
+      When to my dreams thy stalwart form appears.
+
+    This will the future bring. See! Thou hast given
+      From out the fulness of thy strength and will
+      This courage to me. Though the rugged hill
+    Looms high, and fronts our vision, yet our heaven
+      (I see it when I sleep) with portals wide
+      And shining towers, gleams on the farther side.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    "Tshirr!" scolds the oriole
+      Where the elms stir,
+    Flaunting her gourd-like nest
+    On the tree's swaying crest:
+    "May's here, I cannot rest,
+      Go away; tshirr!"
+
+    "Tshirr!" scolds the oriole
+      Where the leaves blur,
+    Giving her threads a jerk,
+    Spying where rivals lurk,
+    "May's here, and I'm at work.
+      Go away, tshirr!"
+
+
+
+
+Misunderstanding.
+
+    Spring's face is wreathed in smiles. She had been driven
+      Hither and thither at the surly will
+      Of treacherous winds till her sweet heart was chill.
+    Into her grasp the sceptre has been given
+      And now she touches with a proud young hand
+      The earth, and turns to blossoms all the land.
+
+    We catch the smile, the joyousness, the pride,
+      And share them with her. Surely winter gloom
+      Is for the old, and frost is for the tomb.
+    Youth must have pleasure, and the tremulous tide
+      Of sun-kissed waves, and all the golden fire
+      Of Summer's noontide splendor of desire.
+
+    I have forgotten,--for the breath of buds
+      Is on my temples, if in former days
+      I have known sorrow; I remember praise,
+    And calm content, and joy's great ocean-floods,
+      And many dreams so sweet that, in their place,
+      We would not welcome even Truth's fair face.
+
+    O Man to whom my heart hast leaned, dost know
+      Aught of my life? Sometimes a strong despair
+      Enters my soul and finds a lodging there;
+    Thou dost not know me, and the years will go
+      As these last months have gone, and I shall be
+      Still far, still a strange woman unto thee.
+
+    I do not blame thee. If there is a fault
+      Let it be mine, for surely had I tried
+      The door of my heart's home to open wide
+    No need had been for even Love's assault.
+      And yet, methinks, somewhere there is a key
+      Thou mightest have found, and entered happily.
+
+    I am no saint niched in a hallowed wall
+      For men to worship, but I would compel
+      A level gaze. You teachers who would tell
+    A woman's place I do defy you all!
+      While justice lives, and love with joy is crowned
+      Woman and man must meet on equal ground.
+
+    The deepest wrong is falsehood. She who sells
+      Her soul and body for a little gain
+      In ease, or the world's notice, has a stain
+    Upon her soul no lighter for the bells
+      Of marriage rites, and purer far is she
+      Who gives her all for love's sad ecstasy.
+
+    Canst thou not understand a nature strong
+      And passionate, with impulses that sway,
+      With yearning tenderness that must have way,
+    Yet knows no ill desire, no touch of wrong?
+      If thou canst not then in God's name I pray
+      See me no more forever from this day.
+
+
+
+
+Shadow Song.
+
+    The night is long
+      And there are no stars,--
+        Let me but dream
+        That the long fields gleam
+    With sunlight and song,
+    Then I shall not long
+      For the light of stars.
+
+    Let me but dream,--
+      For there are no stars,--
+        Dream that the ache
+        And the wild heart-break
+    Are but things that seem.
+    Ah! let me dream
+      For there are no stars.
+
+
+
+
+Revulsion.
+
+    I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam
+      In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool,
+      The blessed April air blows soft and cool,
+    Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream,
+      And we forget that close around us lie
+      A city's poor, a city's misery.
+
+    Of every outward vision there is some
+      Internal counterpart. To-day I know
+      The blessedness of living, and the glow
+    Of life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee come
+      In thought and wander where the fields are fair
+      With bursting life, and I, rejoicing, there.
+
+    Yet have I passed, Beloved, through the vale
+      Of dark dismay, and felt the dews of death
+      Upon my brow, have measured out my breath
+    Counting my hours of joy, as misers quail
+      At every footfall in the quiet night
+      And clutch their gold and count it in affright.
+
+    I learned new lessons in that school of fear,
+      Life took a fresh perspective; sad and brave
+      The view is from the threshold of the grave.
+    In that long, backward glance I saw her clear
+      From fogs of gathering night, and all the show
+      Of small things that seemed great a while ago.
+
+    Our dreams of fame, the stubborn power we call
+      Our self-respect, our hopes of worldly good,
+      Our jealousies and fears, how in the flood
+    Of this new light they faded, poor and small;
+      Showing our pettiness beside God's truth,
+      Besides His age our poor, unlearned youth.
+
+    The earth yearns forth, impatient for the days
+      Of its maturity, the ample sweets
+      Of Summer's fulness; and its great heart beats
+    With a fierce restlessness, for Spring delays
+      Seeing her giddy reign end all too soon,
+      Her bud-crown ravished by the hand of June.
+
+    And I,--I shall be happy,--promise me
+      This one small thing, Beloved, for I long
+      For happiness as the caged bird for song.
+    Not where four walls close in the melody
+      I want the fresh, sweet air, the water's gush,
+      The strong, sane life with thee, the summer hush.
+
+
+
+
+A Song of Dawn.
+
+    In the east a lightening;
+    Where the woods are chill
+    Moves an unseen finger,
+    Wakes a sudden thrill;
+
+    In my soul a glimmer,
+    Hush! no words are heard!
+    In heart-ambush hidden
+    Chirrup of a bird;
+
+    Tremble heart and forest
+    Like a frightened fawn,
+    Gleam the distant tree-tops,
+    Hither comes the dawn!
+
+
+
+
+Weariness.
+
+    This April sun has wakened into cheer
+      The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold
+      These threadbare leaves of fancy brown and old.
+    This is for us the wakening of the year
+      And May's sweet breath will draw the waiting soul
+      To where in distance lies the longed-for goal.
+
+    The summer life will still all questioning,
+      The leaves will whisper peace, and calm will be
+      The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea.
+    And we shall hush our murmurings, and bring
+      To Nature, green below and blue above,
+      A whole life's worshipping, a whole life's love.
+
+    We will not speak of sometime fretting fears,
+      We will not think of aught that may arise
+      In future hours to cloud our golden skies.
+    Some souls there are who love their woes and tears,
+      Gaining their joy by contrast, but for thee
+      And me, Beloved, peace is ecstasy.
+
+    It was not always so, there was a time
+      When I would choose the rocky mountain way,
+      And climb the hills of doubt to find the day.
+    Fresh effort brought fresh zest, and winter's rime
+      Chilled not but crowned endeavor, and the heat
+      Of summer thrilled, and made the pulses beat.
+
+    But now I am so weary that I turn
+      From labor with a shudder, and from pain
+      As from an enemy; I see no gain
+    In suffering, and cleansing fires must burn
+      As keenly as desire, so let me know
+      Quiet with thee, and twilight's afterglow.
+
+    I, who have boasted of my strength and will,
+      And ventured daring flights, and stood alone
+      In fearless, flushed defiance, I have grown
+    Humble, and seek another hand to fill
+      Life's cup, and other eyes to pierce the skies
+      Of Wisdom's dear, sad, mighty mysteries.
+
+    Ah! I will lie so quiet in thine arms
+      I will not stir thee; and thy whisperings
+      Shall teach me patience, and so many things
+    I have not learned as yet. And all alarms
+      Will melt in peace when, safe from tempest's rage
+      My wind-tossed ship has found its anchorage.
+
+
+
+
+A Song of Rest.
+
+    The world may rage without,
+        Quiet is here;
+    Statesmen may toil and shout,
+        Cynics may sneer;
+    The great world--let it go--
+    June warmth be March's snow,
+    I care not--be it so
+        Since I am here.
+
+    Time was when war's alarm
+        Called for a fear,
+    When sorrow's seeming harm
+        Hastened a tear;
+    Naught care I now what foe
+    Threatens, for scarce I know
+    How the year's seasons go
+        Since I am here.
+
+    This is my resting-place
+        Holy and dear,
+    Where Pain's dejected face
+        May not appear.
+    This is the world to me,
+    Earth's woes I will not see
+    But rest contentedly
+        Since I am here.
+
+    Is't your voice chiding, Love,
+        My mild career?
+    My meek abiding, Love,
+        Daily so near?
+    "Danger and loss" to me?
+    Ah, Sweet, I fear to see
+    No loss but loss of _Thee_
+        And I am here.
+
+
+
+
+Death.
+
+    If days should pass without a written word
+      To tell me of thy welfare, and if days
+      Should lengthen out to weeks, until the maze
+    Of questioning fears confused me, and I heard.
+      Life-sounds as echoes; and one came and said
+      After these weeks of waiting: "He is dead!"
+
+    Though the quick sword had found the vital part,
+      And the life-blood must mingle with the tears,
+      I think that, as the dying soldier hears
+    The cries of victory, and feels his heart
+      Surge with his country's triumph-hour, I could
+      Hope bravely on, and feel that God was good.
+
+    I could take up my thread of life again
+      And weave my pattern though the colors were
+      Faded forever. Though I might not dare
+    Dream often of thee, I should know that when
+      Death came to thee upon thy lips my name
+      Lingered, and lingers ever without blame.
+
+    Aye, lingers ever. Though we may not know
+      Much that our spirits crave, yet is it given
+      To us to feel that in the waiting Heaven
+    Great souls are greater, and if God bestow
+      A mighty love He will not let it die
+      Through the vast ages of eternity.
+
+    But if some day the bitter knowledge swept
+      Down on my life,--bearing my treasured freight
+      To founder on the shoals of scorn,--what Fate
+    Smiling with awful irony had kept
+      Till life grew sweeter,--that my god was clay,
+      That 'neath thy strength a lurking weakness lay;
+
+    That thou, whom I had deemed a man of men
+      Faulty, as great men are, but with no taint
+      Of baseness,--with those faults that shew the saint
+    Of after days, perhaps,--wert even then
+      When first I loved thee but a spreading tree
+      Whose leaves shewed not its roots' deformity;
+
+    I should not weep, for there are wounds that lie
+      Too deep for tears,--and Death is but a friend
+      Who loves too dearly, and the parting end
+    Of Love's joy-day a paltry pain, a cry
+      To God, then peace,--beside the torturing grief
+      When honor dies, and trust, and soul's belief.
+
+    Travellers have told that in the Java isles
+      The upas-tree breathes its dread vapor out
+      Into the air; there needs no hand about
+    Its branches for the poison's deadly wiles
+      To work a strong man's hurt, for there is death
+      Envenomed, noisome, in his every breath.
+
+    So would I breathe thy poison in my soul,
+      Till all that had been wholesome, pure, and true
+      Shewed its decay, and stained and wasted grew.
+    Though sundered as the distant Northern Pole
+      From his far sister, I should bear thy blight
+      Upon me as I passed into the night.
+
+    Didst dream thy truth and honor meant so much
+      To me, Dear Heart? Oh! I am full of tears
+      To-night, of longing, love and foolish fears.
+    Would I might see thee, know thy tender touch,
+      For Time is long, and though I may not will
+      To question Fate, I am a woman still.
+
+
+
+
+Battle Song.
+
+    Clear sounds the call on high:
+    "To arms and victory!"
+    Brave hearts that win or die,
+        Dying, may win;
+    Proudly the banners wave,
+    What though the goal's the grave?
+    Death cannot harm the brave,--
+        Through death they win.
+
+    Softly the evening hush
+    Stilling strife's maddened rush
+    Cools the fierce battle flush,--
+        See the day die;
+    A thousand faces white
+    Mirror the cold moonlight
+    And glassy eyes are bright
+        With Victory.
+
+
+
+
+Content.
+
+    I have been wandering where the daisies grow,
+      Great fields of tall, white daisies, and I saw
+      Them bend reluctantly, and seem to draw
+    Away in pride when the fresh breeze would blow
+      From timothy and yellow buttercup,
+      So by their fearless beauty lifted up.
+
+    Yet must they bend at the strong breeze's will,
+      Bright, flawless things, whether in wrath he sweep
+      Or, as oftimes, in mood caressing, creep
+    Over the meadows and adown the hill.
+      So Love in sport or truth, as Fates allow,
+      Blows over proud young hearts, and bids them bow.
+
+    So beautiful is it to live, so sweet
+      To hear the ripple of the bobolink,
+      To smell the clover blossoms white and pink,
+    To feel oneself far from the dusty street,
+      From dusty souls, from all the flare and fret
+      Of living, and the fever of regret.
+
+    I have grown younger; I can scarce believe
+      It is the same sad woman full of dreams
+      Of seven short weeks ago, for now it seems
+    I am a child again, and can deceive
+      My soul with daisies, plucking one by one
+      The petals dazzling in the noonday sun.
+
+    Almost with old-time eagerness I try
+      My fate, and say: "un peu," a soft "beaucoup,"
+      Then, lower, "passionément, pas du tout;"
+    Quick the white petals fall, and lovingly
+      I pluck the last, and drop with tender touch
+      The knowing daisy, for he loves me "much."
+
+    I can remember how, in childish days,
+      I deemed that he who held my heart in thrall
+      Must love me "passionately" or "not at all."
+    Poor little wilful ignorant heart that prays
+      It knows not what, and heedlessly demands
+      The best that life can give with out-stretched hands!
+
+    Now I am wiser, and have learned to prize
+      Peace above passion, and the summer life
+      Here with the flowers above the ceaseless strife
+    Of armed ambitions. They alone are wise
+      Who know the daisy-secrets, and can hold
+      Fast in their eager hands her heart of gold.
+
+
+
+
+Sea-Song.
+
+    A dash of spray,
+    A weed-browned way,--
+    My ship's in the bay,
+    In the glad blue bay,--
+    The wind's from the west
+    And the waves have a crest,
+    But my bird's in the nest
+    And my ship's in the bay!
+
+    At dawn to stand
+    Soft hand to hand,
+    Bare feet on the sand,--
+    On the hard brown sand,--
+    To wait, dew-crowned,
+    For the tarrying sound
+    Of a keel that will ground
+    On the scraping sand.
+
+    A glad surprise
+    In the wind-swept skies
+    Of my wee one's eyes,--
+    Those wondering eyes.
+    He will come, my sweet,
+    And will haste to meet
+    Those hurrying feet
+    And those sea-blue eyes.
+
+    I know the day
+    Must weary away,
+    And my ship's in the bay,--
+    In the clear, blue bay,--
+    Ah! there's wind in the west,
+    For the waves have a crest,
+    But my bird's in the nest
+    And my ship's in the bay!
+
+
+
+
+Gratitude.
+
+    There are some things, dear Friend, are easier far
+      To say in written words than when we sit
+      Eye answering eye, or hand to hand close knit.
+    Not that there is between us any bar
+      Of shyness or reserve; the day is past
+      For that, and utter trust has come at last.
+
+    Only, when shut alone and safe inside
+      These four white walls,--hearing no sound except
+      Our own heart-beatings, silences have crept
+    Stealthily round us,--as the incoming tide
+      Quiet and unperceived creeps ever on
+      Till mound and pebble, rock and reef are gone.
+
+    Or out on the green hillside, even there
+      There is a hush, and words and thoughts are still.
+      For the trees speak, and myriad voices fill
+    With wondrous echoes all the waiting air.
+      We listen, and in listening must forget
+    Our own hearts' murmur, and our spirits' fret;
+
+    Even our joys,--thou knowest;--when the air
+      Is full to overflowing with the sense
+      Of hope fulfilled and passion's vehemence.
+    There is no place for words; we do not dare
+      To break Love's stillness, even though the power
+      Were ours by speech to lengthen out the hour.
+
+    But here in quietness I can recall
+      All I would tell thee, how thou art to me
+      Impulse and inspiration, and with thee
+    I can but smile though all my idols fall.
+      I wait my meed as others who have known
+      Patience till to their utmost stature grown.
+
+    As when the heavens are draped in gloomy gray
+      And earth is tremulous with a vague unrest
+      A glory fills the tender, troubled West
+    That glads the closing of November's day,
+      So breaks in sun-smiles my beclouded sky
+      When day is over and I know thee nigh.
+
+    Thou art so much, all this and more, to me,
+      And what am I to thee? Can I repay
+      These many gifts? Is there no royal way
+    Of recompense, so I may proudly see
+      The man my heart delights to praise renowned
+      For wealth and honor, and with rapture crowned?
+
+    Ah! though there is no recompense in love
+      Yet have I paid thee, given these gifts to thee,
+      Joy, riches, worship. Thou hast joy in me,
+    Is it not so, Beloved? Who shall prove
+      No worship of thee by my soul confessed?
+      And riches? Ah! a wealth of love is best.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    I have known a thousand pleasures,--
+            Love is best--
+    Ocean's songs and forest treasures,
+            Work and rest,
+    Jewelled joys of dear existence,
+    Triumph over Fate's resistance,
+    But to prove, through Time's wide distance,
+            Love is best.
+
+
+
+
+Prayer.
+
+    I stood upon a hill, and watched the death
+      Of the day's turmoil. Still the glory spread
+      Cloud-top to cloud-top, and each rearing head
+    Trembled to crimson. So a mighty breath
+      From some wild Titan in a rising ire
+      Might kindle flame in voicing his desire.
+
+    Soft stirred the evening air; the pine-crowned hills
+      Glowed in an answering rapture where the flush
+      Grew to a blood-drop, and the vesper hush
+    Moved in my soul, while from my life all ills
+      Faded and passed away. God's voice was there
+      And in my heart the silence was a prayer.
+
+    There was a day when to my fearfulness
+      Was born a joy, when doubt was swept afar
+      A shadow and a memory, and a star
+    Gleamed in my sky more bright for the distress.
+      The stillness breathed thanksgiving, and the air
+      Wafted, methought, the incense of a prayer.
+
+    Heaven sets no bounds of bead-roll or appeal;
+      And when the fiery heart with mute embrace
+      Bends, tremblingly, but for a moment's space
+    It needs no words that cry, no limbs that kneel.
+      As meteors flash, so, in a moment's light,
+      Life, darting forth, touches the Infinite.
+
+    All my prayers wordless? Nay, I can recall
+      A night not so long past but that each thought
+      Lives at this hour, and throbs again unsought
+    When Silence broods, and Night's chill shadows fall;
+      Then Darkness' thousand pulses thrilled and stirred
+      With the dear grace of a remembered word;
+
+    And I was still, thy voice enshrouding me.
+      Like the strong sweep of ocean-breath the power
+      Of one resistless thought transformed my hour
+    Of love-dreams to a fear. All hopelessly
+      I knew love's impotence, and my despair
+      Stretched soul-hands forth, and quivered to a prayer.
+
+    My passionate heart cried out: "If his dear life
+      Through stress of keen temptation merits aught
+      Of penance or requital, be it wrought
+    Upon _my_ life. If only through the strife
+      Is won the peace, through drudgery the gain,
+      Give him the issue, and to me the pain!"
+
+    Some day, in our soul's course o'er trackless lands,
+      Swayed oft by adverse winds, or swept along
+      In Fate's wild current with the fluttering throng
+    Towards Sin's engulfing maelstrom, spirit hands
+      Will brace our trembling wings, and through the night
+      Point and upbear in our last trembling flight.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Red gleams the mountain ridge,
+      Slow the stream creeps
+    Under the old bent bridge,
+      And labor sleeps.
+
+    There are no restless birds,
+      No leaves that stir,
+    Dusk her gray mantle girds,
+      Night's harbinger.
+
+    The storm-soul's change and start
+      Pause, lull, and cease;
+    In my unquiet heart
+      Is born a peace.
+
+
+
+
+Loneliness.
+
+    Dear, I am lonely, for the bay is still
+      As any hill-girt lake; the long brown beach
+      Lies bare and wet. As far as eye can reach
+    There is no motion. Even on the hill
+      Where the breeze loves to wander I can see
+      No stir of leaves, nor any waving tree.
+
+    There is a great red cliff that fronts my view
+      A bare, unsightly thing; it angers me
+      With its unswerving-grim monotony.
+    The mackerel weir, with branching boughs askew
+      Stands like a fire-swept forest, while the sea
+      Laps it, with soothing sighs, continually.
+
+    There are no tempests in this sheltered bay,
+      The stillness frets me, and I long to be
+      Where winds sweep strong and blow tempestuously,
+    To stand upon some hill-top far away
+      And face a gathering gale, and let the stress
+      Of Nature's mood subdue my restlessness.
+
+    An impulse seizes me, a mad desire
+      To tear away that red-browed cliff, to sweep
+      Its crest of trees and huts into the deep;
+    To force a gap by axe, or storm, or fire,
+      And let rush in with motion glad and free
+      The rolling waves of the wild wondrous sea.
+
+    Sometimes I wonder if I am the child
+      Of calm, law-loving parents, or a stray
+      From some wild gypsy camp. I cannot stay
+    Quiet among my fellows; when this wild
+      Longing for freedom takes me I must fly
+      To my dear woods and know my liberty.
+
+    It is this cringing to a social law
+      That I despise, these changing, senseless forms
+      Of fashion! And until a thousand storms
+    Of God's impatience shall reveal the flaw
+      In man's pet system, he will weave the spell
+      About his heart and dream that all is well.
+
+    Ah! Life is hard, Dear Heart, for I am left
+      To battle with my old-time fears alone
+      I must live calmly on, and make no moan
+    Though of my hoped-for happiness bereft.
+      Thou wilt not come, and still the red cliff lies
+      Hiding my ocean from these longing eyes.
+
+
+
+
+Sea-Song.
+
+    It sings to me, it sings to me,
+    The shore-blown voice of the blithesome sea!
+      Of its world of gladness all untold,
+      Of its heart of green, and its mines of gold,
+    And desires that leap and flee.
+
+    It moans to me, it moans to me!
+    The storm-stirred voice of the restive sea!
+      Of the vain dismay and the yearning pain
+      For hopes that will never be born again
+    From the womb of the wavering sea.
+
+    It calls to me, it calls to me,
+    The luring voice of the rebel sea!
+      And I long with a love that is born of tears
+      For the wild fresh life, and the glorying fears,
+    For the quest and the mystery.
+
+    It wails to me, it wails to me,
+    Of the deep dark graves in the yawning sea;
+      And I hear the voice of a boy that is gone.
+      But the lad sleeps sound till the judgment-dawn
+    In the heart of the wind-swept sea.
+
+
+
+
+Incompleteness.
+
+    Since first I met thee, Dear, and long before
+      I knew myself beloved, save by the sense
+      All women have, a shadowy confidence
+    Half-fear, that _feels_ its bliss nor asks for more,
+      I have learned new desires, known Love's distress
+      Sounded the deepest depths of loneliness.
+
+    I was a child at heart, and lived alone,
+      Dreaming my dreams, as children may, at whiles,
+      Between their hours of play, and Earth's broad smiles
+    Allured my heart, and ocean's marvellous tone
+      Woke no strange echoes, and the woods' complain
+      Made chants sonorous, stirred no thoughts of pain.
+
+    And if, sometimes, dear Nature spoke to me
+      In tones mysterious, I had learned so much
+      Dwelling beside her daily, that her touch
+    Made me discerning. Though I might not see
+      Her purpose nor her meaning, I had part
+      In the proud throbbing of that mighty heart.
+
+    But now the earth has put a tiring-cloth
+      About her face; even in the mountains' cheer
+      There is a lack, and in the sea a fear,
+    The glad, rash sea, whose every mood, if wroth
+      Or soothing mild, is dear to me as are
+      Joy's new-born kisses on the lips of Care.
+
+    Since I have known thee, Dear, all life has grown
+      An expectation. As the swelling grain
+      Trembles to harvesting, and earth in pain
+    Travails till Spring is born, so felt alone
+      Is the dumb reaching out of things unborn,
+      The night's gray promise of the amber morn.
+
+    I long to taste my pleasures through thy lips,
+      To sail with thee o'er foaming waves and feel
+      Our spirits rise together with the reel
+    Of waters and the wavering land's eclipse;
+      To see thy fair hair damp with salt sea-spray
+      And in thine eyes the wildness of the way.
+
+    I long to share my woods with thee, to fly
+      To some black-hearted forest where the trail
+      Of mortals lingers not,--to hear the gale.
+    Sweep round us with a shuddering ecstasy,
+      To feel, night's tumult passed, the cool soft hand
+      Of the untroubled dawn move o'er the land.
+
+    To swim with thee far out into the bay,
+      A trembling glitter on the waves, the shore
+      Glowing with noontide fervor, nevermore
+    To fear the treacherous depths, though long the way.
+      Sweet beyond words the sighs that breathe and blow,
+      The moist salt kisses, and the glad warm glow.
+
+    And when the unrest, the vague desires that rush
+      Over our lives and may not be denied,--
+      Gone in the tasting,--lure us where the tide
+    Of men sweeps on, let us forget the hush
+      Together, and in city madness drain
+      Our cup of pleasure to its dregs of pain.
+
+    Ever I need thee. Incomplete and poor
+      This life of mine. Yet never dream my soul
+      Craves the old peace. Till I may have the whole
+    My joy is my abiding, and what more
+      Of dreams and waking bliss the Fates allow
+      Comes as a gift of Love's great overflow.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Deep in the green bracken lying,
+      Close by the welcoming sea,
+    Dream I, and let all my dreaming
+      Drift as it will, Love, to thee.
+
+    Sated with splendid caresses
+      Showered by the sun in his pride,
+    Scorched by his passionate kisses
+      Languidly ebbs the tide.
+
+
+
+
+Life's Joys.
+
+    I have been pondering what our teachers call
+      The mystery of Pain; and lo! my thought
+      After it's half-blind reaching out has caught
+    This truth and held it fast. We may not fall
+      Beyond our mounting; stung by life's annoy,
+      Deeper we feel the mystery of Joy.
+
+    Sometimes they steal across us like a breath
+      Of Eastern perfume in a darkened room,
+      These joys of ours; we grope on through the gloom
+    Seeking some common thing, and from its sheath
+      Unloose, unknowing, some bewildering scent
+      Of spice-thronged memories of the Orient.
+
+    Sometimes they dart across our turbid sky
+      Like a quick flash after a heated day.
+      A moment, where the sombrous shadows lay
+    We see a glory. Though it passed us by
+      No earthly power can filch that dazzling glow
+      From memory's eye, that instant's shine and show.
+
+    Life is so full of joys. The alluring sea,
+      This morning clear and placid, may, ere night,
+      Toss like a petulant child, and when the light
+    Of a new morning dawns sweep grand and free
+      A mighty power. If fierce, or mild, or bright,
+      With every tide flows in a fresh delight.
+
+    I can remember well when first I knew
+      The fragrance of white clover. There I lay
+      On the warm July grass and heard the play
+    Of sun-browned insects, and the breezes blew
+      To my drowsed sense the scent the blossoms had;
+      The subtle sweetness stayed, and I was glad.
+
+    Nor passed the gladness. Though the years have gone
+      (A many years, Beloved, since that day,)
+      Whenever by the roadside or away
+    In radiant summer fields, wandering alone
+      Or with glad children, to my restless sight
+      Shows that pale head, comes back the old delight.
+
+    Oh! the dark water, and the filling sail!
+      The scudding like a sea-mew, with the hand
+      Firm on the tiller! See, the red-shored land
+    Receding, as we brave the hastening gale!
+      White gleam the wave-tops, and the breakers' roar
+      Sounds thunderingly on the far distant shore.
+
+    This mad hair flying in the breeze blows wild
+      Across my face. See, there, the gathering squall,
+      That dark line to the eastward, watch it crawl
+    Stealthily towards us o'er the snow-wreaths piled
+      Close on each other! Ah! what joy to be
+      Drunk with salt air, in battle with the sea!
+
+    So many joys, and yet I have but told
+      Of simple things, the joys of air and sea!
+      Not all these things are worth one hour with thee,
+    One moment, when thy daring arms enfold
+      My body, and all other, meaner joys,
+      Fade from me like a child's forgotten toys.
+
+    One thought is ever with me, glorying all
+      Life's common aims. Surely will dawn a day
+      Bright with an unknown rapture, when thy way
+    Will be _my_ journey-road, and I can call
+      These joys _our_ joys, for thou wilt walk with me
+      Down budding pathways to the abounding sea.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Low laughed the Columbine,
+    Trembled her petals fine
+      As the breeze blew;
+    In her dove-heart there stirred
+    Murmurs the dull bee heard,
+    And Love, Life's wild white bird,
+      Straightway she knew.
+
+    Resting her lilac cheek
+    Gently, in aspect meek,
+      On the gray stone,
+    The morning-glory, free,
+    Welcomed the yellow bee,
+    Heard the near-rolling sea
+      Murmur and moan.
+
+    Calm lay the tawny sand
+    Stretching a long wet hand
+      To the far wave.
+    Swift to her warm waiting breast
+    Longing to be possessed
+    Leaps 'neath his billowy crest
+      Her Lover brave.
+
+
+
+
+Barter
+
+    There is a long thin line of fading gold
+      In the far West, and the transfigured leaves
+      On some slight, topmost bough that sways and heaves
+    Hang limp and tremulous. Nor warm, nor cold
+      The pungent air, and, 'neath the yellow haze,
+      Show flushed and glad the wild, October ways.
+
+    There is a soft enchantment in the air,
+      A mystery the Summer knows not, nor
+      The sturdy, frost-crowned Winter. Nature wore
+    Her blandest smile to-day, as here and there
+      I wandered, elf-beset, through wood and field
+      And gleaned the glories of the autumn yield.
+
+    A bunch of purple aster, golden-rod
+      Darkened by the first frost, a drooping spray
+      Of scarlet barberry, and tall and gray
+    The silk-cored cotton with its bursting pod,
+      Some tarnished maple-boughs, and, like a flash
+      Of sudden flame, a branch of mountain ash.
+
+    She smiled, but it was not the welcoming smile
+      Of frank surrender. As a witching maid
+      In gorgeous garments cunningly arrayed
+    Might smile and draw them closer, hers the guile
+      To let men hope, pray, labor in love's stress
+      Ere they her hidden beauties may possess.
+
+    Deep in the heart of earth where the springs rise,
+      Down with the sweet linnća and the moss,
+      In the brown thrush's throat, where the pines toss
+    In Winter's harrying storms her secret lies.
+      Ours the chill night-dews and the waiting pain
+      Ere we her fairy wealth may hope to gain.
+
+    'Tis so with knowledge. Eagerly we turn
+      Great Wisdom's page, and when our clear eyes grow
+      Dim in the dusk of years, and heads bend low
+    Weary at last, the truth we strove to learn
+      Is ours forever. But its joy of sight
+      Is dearly bought, methinks, with Youth's delight.
+
+    Fate, too, with chaffering voice and beckoning hand
+      Doles out our happiness; we snatch at wealth
+      And pay with anxious care and fading health.
+    We call for Love, and dream that we shall stand
+      On ground enchanted, but, though sweet the way,
+      The rocks are sharp, and grief comes with the Day.
+
+    Even in love, Dear Heart, there is exchange
+      Of gifts and griefs, and so I render thee
+      Vows for thy vows, and pay unfalteringly
+    What love demands, nor ever deem it strange.
+      And when the snow drifts fast, and north-winds sting
+      I make no murmur, but await the Spring.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Joy came in youth as a humming-bird,
+      (Sing hey! for the honey and bloom of life!)
+    And it made a home in my summer bower
+    With the honeysuckle and the sweet-pea flower.
+      (Sing hey! for the blossoms and sweets of life!)
+
+    Joy came as a lark when the years had gone,
+      (Ah! hush, hush still, for the dream is short!)
+    And I gazed far up to the melting blue
+    Where the rare song dropped like a golden dew.
+      (Ah! sweet is the song tho' the dream be short!)
+
+    Joy hovers now in a far-off mist,
+      (The night draws on and the air breathes snow!)
+    And I reach, sometimes, with a trembling hand
+    To the red-tipped cloud of the joy-bird's land.
+      (Alas! for the days of the storm and the snow!)
+
+
+
+
+To-Morrow.
+
+    But one short night between my Love and me!
+      I watch the soft-shod dusk creep wistfully
+      Through the slow-moving curtains, pausing by
+    And shrouding with its spirit-fingers free
+      Each well-known chair. There is a growing grace
+      Of tender magic in this little place.
+
+    Comes through half-opened windows, soft and cool
+      As Spring's young breath, the vagrant evening air,
+      My day-worn soul is hushed. I fain would bear
+    No burdens on my brain to-night, no rule
+      Of anxious thought; the world has had my tears,
+      My thoughts, my hopes, my aims these many years;
+
+    This is Thy hour, and I shall sink to sleep
+      With a glad weariness, to know that when
+      The new day dawns I shall lay by my pen
+    Needed no more. If I, perchance, should weep
+      A few quick tears, so doing, who would guess
+      'Twas the last throb of my soul's loneliness?
+
+    Not even thou, Dear Heart, canst ever know
+      How I have yearned these many months, these years
+      For love, for thee. As the calm boatman steers
+    His slender shallop where he fain would go,
+      Tempests and rocks before, so through the dark
+      To this dim, far-off day has set my bark.
+
+    To-morrow! I can hear the quick-closed door,
+      The approaching steps, my pained heart's fluttering,
+      Thy voice, then Thee! And all the storm and sting
+    Of bygone griefs are passed forevermore,
+      Swept from my life as the resistless wind
+      Scatters the chaff, nor leaves a mote behind.
+
+    As long-imprisoned captives reach the light,
+      And gaze with greedy eyes on field and tree,
+      Drinking the beauties of the sky and sea
+    Half fearful of their bliss; so from the night
+      Of dreams and shades, half doubting, we awake
+      And grasp the joy we almost fear to take.
+
+    Thou hidest in thy warm ones my cold hand,
+      Reading my soul in these unwavering eyes.
+      Nay, thou hast known my hopes, my agonies
+    Through written words, and thou canst understand.
+      I have kept nothing back of all the streams
+      Of my heart-flowings--doubts, nor fears, nor dreams.
+
+    So long my life has followed no control
+      But mine own impulse; now, I pray thee, bend
+      My will to thine, and so, unhindered, tend
+    My soul's wild garden. I have laid the whole
+      Bare to thy sowing; and life's precious wine
+      Is of thy pouring, and thy way is mine.
+
+
+
+
+Song
+
+    Where is the waiting-time?
+      Where are the fears?
+    Gone with the winter's rime,
+      The bygone years.
+
+    O'er life's plain, lone and vast,
+      Slow treads the morn,
+    Night shades have moved and passed,
+      Joy's day is born.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman's Love Letters, by Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN'S LOVE LETTERS ***
+
+***** This file should be named 18351-8.txt or 18351-8.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Woman's Love Letters, by Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+    </title>
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+<pre>
+
+Project Gutenberg's A Woman's Love Letters, by Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
+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: A Woman's Love Letters
+
+Author: Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
+Release Date: May 8, 2006 [EBook #18351]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN'S LOVE LETTERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Christine D. 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>
+
+
+
+<h2>The Fleur de Lis Poets.</h2>
+
+<h1>A WOMAN'S<br />
+LOVE LETTERS.</h1>
+
+<h2>BY SOPHIE M. ALMON-HENSLEY</h2>
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 60px;">
+<img src="images/crest.jpg" width="60" height="100" alt="crest" title="crest" />
+</div></div>
+
+<div class='padding'>
+<h4>
+NEW YORK. J. SELWIN TAIT<br />
+AND SONS, NUMBER SIXTY-FIVE<br />
+FIFTH AVENUE.<br /></h4></div>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+
+<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1895<br />
+<small>BY</small><br />
+J. SELWIN TAIT &amp; SONS<br />
+<span class="smcap">New York</span><br />
+</p>
+
+<hr style="width: 45%;" />
+
+<h2>CONTENTS.</h2>
+
+<div class='center'>
+<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="">
+<tr><td align='left'>A Dream,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Dream-Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Doubt,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Anticipation,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Misunderstanding,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Shadow-Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Revulsion,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Song of Dawn,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Weariness,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>A Song of Rest,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Death,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Battle-Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Content,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sea-Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Gratitude,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Prayer,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Loneliness,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_54">54</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Sea-Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_57">57</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Incompleteness,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Life's Joys,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Barter,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_76">76</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>To-morrow,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td></tr>
+<tr><td align='left'>Song,</td><td align='left'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr>
+</table></div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg&nbsp;1]</a></span></p>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_Dream" id="A_Dream"></a>A Dream.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I stood far off above the haunts of men<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Somewhere, I know not, when the sky was dim<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From some worn glory, and the morning hymn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the gay oriole echoed from the glen.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wandering, I felt earth's peace, nor knew I sought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A visioned face, a voice the wind had caught.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I passed the waking things that stirred and gazed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thought-bound, and heeded not; the waking flowers<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drank in the morning mist, dawn's tender showers,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg&nbsp;2]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">And looked forth for the Day-god who had blazed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">His heart away and died at sundown. Far<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the gray west faded a loitering star.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It seemed that I had wandered through long years,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A life of years, still seeking gropingly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A thing I dared not name; now I could see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the still dawn a hope, in the soft tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the deep-hearted violets a breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of kinship, like the herald voice of Death.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Slow moved the morning; where the hill was bare<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Woke a reluctant breeze. Dimly I knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My Day was come. The wind-blown blossoms threw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Their breath about me, and the pine-swept air<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grew to a shape, a mighty, formless thing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A phantom of the wood's imagining.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg&nbsp;3]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And as I gazed, spell-bound, it seemed to move<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its tendril limbs, still swaying tremulously<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As if in spirit-doubt; then glad and free<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Crystalled the being won from waiting grove<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Into a human likeness. There he stood,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The vine-browed shape of Nature's mortal mood.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Now have I found thee, Vision I have sought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These years, unknowing; surely thou art fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And inly wise, and on thy tasselled hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Glows Heaven's own light. Passion and fame are naught<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To thy clear eyes, O Prince of many lands,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grant me thy joy," I cried, and stretched my hands.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">No answer but the flourish of the breeze<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through the black pines. Then, slowly, as the wind<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg&nbsp;4]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Parts the dense cloud-forms, leaving naught behind<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But shapeless vapor, through the budding trees<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drifted some force unseen, and from my sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Faded my god into the morning light.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Again alone. With wistful, straining eyes<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I waited, and the sunshine flecked the bank<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Happy with arbutus and violets where I sank<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hearing, near by, a host of melodies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The rapture of the woodthrush; soft her mood<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The love-mate, with such golden numbers woo'd.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">He ceased; the fresh moss-odors filled the grove<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a strange sweetness, the dark hemlock boughs<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Moved soft, as though they heard the brooklet rouse<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To its spring soul, and whisper low of love.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg&nbsp;5]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">The white-robed birches stood unbendingly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like royal maids, in proud expectancy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Athwart the ramage where the young leaves press<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It came to me, ah, call it what you will<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Vision or waking dream, I see it still!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Again a form born of the woodland stress<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grew to my gaze, and by some secret sign<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though shadow-hid, I knew the form was thine.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The glancing sunlight made thy ruddy hair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A crown of gold, but on thy spirit-face<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There was no smile, only a tender grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of love half doubt. Upon thy hand a rare<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wild bird of Paradise perched fearlessly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With radiant plumage and still, lustrous eye.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And as I gazed I saw what I had deemed<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A shadow near thy hand, a dusky wing,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A bird like last year's leaves, so dull a thing<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Beside its fellow; as the sunshine gleamed<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg&nbsp;6]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Each breast showed letters bright as crystalled rain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The fair bird bore "Delight," the other "Pain."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Then came thy voice: "O Love, wilt have my gift?"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I stretched my glad hands eagerly to grasp<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The heaven-blown bird, gold-hued, and longed to clasp<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It close and know it mine. Ere I might lift<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The shining thing and hold it to my breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Again I heard thy voice with vague unrest.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"These are twin birds and may not parted be."<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Full in thine eyes I gazed, and read therein<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The paradox of life, of love, of sin,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">As on a night of cloud and mystery<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One darting flash makes bright the hidden ways,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And feet tread knowingly though thick the haze.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg&nbsp;7]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thy gift, if so I chose,&mdash;no other hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Save thine.&mdash;I reached and gathered to my heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The quivering, sentient things.&mdash;Sometimes I start<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To know them hidden there.&mdash;If I should stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Idly, some day, and <i>one</i>,&mdash;God help me!&mdash;breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A homing breeze,&mdash;my <i>brown</i> bird knows <i>its</i> nest.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg&nbsp;8]</a></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Dream-Song" id="Dream-Song"></a>Dream-Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Cam'st thou not nigh to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that one glimpse of thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When thy lips, tremblingly,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Said: "My Beloved."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">'Twas but a moment's space,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And in that crowded place<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I dared not scan thy face<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">O! my Beloved.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet there may come a time<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">(Though loving be a crime<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Only allowed in rhyme<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">To us, Beloved),<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When safe 'neath sheltering arm<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I may, without alarm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hear thy lips, close and warm,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Murmur: "Beloved!"<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg&nbsp;9]</a></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Doubt" id="Doubt"></a>Doubt.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I do not know if all the fault be mine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or why I may not think of thee and be<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At peace with mine own heart. Unceasingly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Grim doubts beset me, bygone words of thine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Take subtle meaning, and I cannot rest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till all my fears and follies are confessed.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Perhaps the wild wind's questioning has brought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My heart its melancholy, for, alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the night stillness, I can hear him moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In sobbing gusts, as though he vainly sought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some bygone bliss. Against the dripping pane<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In storm-blown torrents beats the driving rain.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg&nbsp;10]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nay I will tell thee all, I will not hide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">One thought from thee, and if I do thee wrong<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So much the more must I be brave and strong<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To show my fault. And if thou then shouldst chide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I will accept reproof most willingly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So it but bringeth peace to thee and me.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I dread thy past. Phantoms of other days<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pursue my vision. There are other hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Which thou hast held, perchance some slender bands<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That draw thee still to other woodland ways<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Than those which <i>we</i> have known, some blissful hours<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I do not share, of love, and June, and flowers.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I dread her most, that woman whom thou knewest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Those years ago,&mdash;I cannot bear to think<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That she can say: "My lover praised the pink<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg&nbsp;11]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Of palm, or ear," "The violets were bluest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In that dear copse," and dream of some fair day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When thou didst while her summer hours away.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I dread them too, those light loves and desires<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That lie in the dim shadow of the years;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I fain would cheat myself of all my fears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And, as a child watching warm winter fires,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dream not of yesterday's black embers, nor<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To-morrow's ashes that may strew the floor.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I did not dream of this while thou wert near,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But now the thought that haunts me day by day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is that the things I love, the tender way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of mastery, the kisses that are dear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As Heaven's best gifts, to other lips and arms<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Owe half their blessedness and all their charms.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg&nbsp;12]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tell me that I am wrong, O! Man of men,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Surely it is not hard to comfort me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Laugh at my fears with dear persistency,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Nay, if thou must, lie to me! There, again,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I hear the rain, and the wind's wailing cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stirs with wild life the night's monotony.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg&nbsp;13]</a></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song13" id="Song13"></a>Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">If I had known<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That when the morrow dawned the roses would be dead<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would have filled my hands with blossoms white and red.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If I had known!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">If I had known<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That I should be to-day deaf to all happy birds<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would have lain for hours to listen to your words.<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If I had known!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i6">If I had known<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That with the morning light you would be gone for aye<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I would have been more kind;&mdash;sweet Love had won his way<br /></span>
+<span class="i6">If I had known.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg&nbsp;14]</a></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Anticipation" id="Anticipation"></a>Anticipation.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let us peer forward through the dusk of years<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And force the silent future to reveal<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her store of garnered joys; we may not kneel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For ever, and entreat our bliss with tears.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Somewhere on this drear earth the sunshine lies,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Somewhere the air breathes Heaven-blown harmonies.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some day when you and I have fully learned<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our waiting-lesson, wondering, hand in hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We shall gaze out upon an unknown land,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Our thoughts and our desires forever turned<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From our old griefs, as swallows, home warding,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sweep ever southward with unwearied wing.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg&nbsp;15]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We shall fare forth, comrades for evermore.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Though the ill-omened bird Time loves to bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Has brushed this cheek and left an impress there<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I shall be fierce and dauntless as of yore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Free as a bird o'er the wide world to rove,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And strong and fearless, O my Love, to love.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">What have we now? The haunting, vague unrest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of incompleted measures; and we dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Vainly, of the Musician and His theme,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How the great Master in a day most blest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall strike some mighty chords in harmony,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And make an end, and set the music free!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We snatch from Fate our moments of delight,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Few as, in April hours, the wooing calls<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of orioles, or when the twilight falls<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">First o'er the forest ere the approach of night<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg&nbsp;16]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">The eyes of evening;&mdash;and Love's song is sung<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But once, Dear Heart, but once, and we are young.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Over the seas together, you and I,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Neath blue Italian skies, or on the hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of storied Greece,&mdash;where the warm sunlight fills<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spain's mellow vineyards,&mdash;wandering reverently<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">O'er the green plains of Palestine,&mdash;our days<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A golden holiday in Old World ways.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet would we linger not by southern shores;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The bracing breath of Scandinavian snows<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Would draw us from our dreams. The North wind blows<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon thy cheek, my Norseman, and the roars<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the wild Baltic sound within my ears<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When to my dreams thy stalwart form appears.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg&nbsp;17]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This will the future bring. See! Thou hast given<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From out the fulness of thy strength and will<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This courage to me. Though the rugged hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Looms high, and fronts our vision, yet our heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(I see it when I sleep) with portals wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And shining towers, gleams on the farther side.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg&nbsp;18]</a></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song18" id="Song18"></a>Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Tshirr!" scolds the oriole<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the elms stir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Flaunting her gourd-like nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the tree's swaying crest:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"May's here, I cannot rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Go away; tshirr!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Tshirr!" scolds the oriole<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the leaves blur,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Giving her threads a jerk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Spying where rivals lurk,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"May's here, and I'm at work.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Go away, tshirr!"<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg&nbsp;19]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Misunderstanding" id="Misunderstanding"></a>Misunderstanding.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Spring's face is wreathed in smiles. She had been driven<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hither and thither at the surly will<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of treacherous winds till her sweet heart was chill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Into her grasp the sceptre has been given<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And now she touches with a proud young hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The earth, and turns to blossoms all the land.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We catch the smile, the joyousness, the pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And share them with her. Surely winter gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is for the old, and frost is for the tomb.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Youth must have pleasure, and the tremulous tide<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg&nbsp;20]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Of sun-kissed waves, and all the golden fire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Summer's noontide splendor of desire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have forgotten,&mdash;for the breath of buds<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is on my temples, if in former days<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I have known sorrow; I remember praise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And calm content, and joy's great ocean-floods,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And many dreams so sweet that, in their place,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We would not welcome even Truth's fair face.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O Man to whom my heart hast leaned, dost know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Aught of my life? Sometimes a strong despair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Enters my soul and finds a lodging there;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Thou dost not know me, and the years will go<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As these last months have gone, and I shall be<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Still far, still a strange woman unto thee.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg&nbsp;21]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I do not blame thee. If there is a fault<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Let it be mine, for surely had I tried<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The door of my heart's home to open wide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No need had been for even Love's assault.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And yet, methinks, somewhere there is a key<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou mightest have found, and entered happily.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I am no saint niched in a hallowed wall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For men to worship, but I would compel<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A level gaze. You teachers who would tell<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A woman's place I do defy you all!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">While justice lives, and love with joy is crowned<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Woman and man must meet on equal ground.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The deepest wrong is falsehood. She who sells<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her soul and body for a little gain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In ease, or the world's notice, has a stain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon her soul no lighter for the bells<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg&nbsp;22]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Of marriage rites, and purer far is she<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who gives her all for love's sad ecstasy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Canst thou not understand a nature strong<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And passionate, with impulses that sway,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With yearning tenderness that must have way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Yet knows no ill desire, no touch of wrong?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">If thou canst not then in God's name I pray<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">See me no more forever from this day.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg&nbsp;23]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Shadow_Song" id="Shadow_Song"></a>Shadow Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The night is long<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And there are no stars,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Let me but dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">That the long fields gleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With sunlight and song,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Then I shall not long<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the light of stars.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Let me but dream,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For there are no stars,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Dream that the ache<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And the wild heart-break<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Are but things that seem.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! let me dream<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For there are no stars.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg&nbsp;24]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Revulsion" id="Revulsion"></a>Revulsion.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The blessed April air blows soft and cool,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And we forget that close around us lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A city's poor, a city's misery.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Of every outward vision there is some<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Internal counterpart. To-day I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The blessedness of living, and the glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee come<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In thought and wander where the fields are fair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With bursting life, and I, rejoicing, there.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet have I passed, Beloved, through the vale<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of dark dismay, and felt the dews of death<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon my brow, have measured out my breath<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg&nbsp;25]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Counting my hours of joy, as misers quail<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">At every footfall in the quiet night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And clutch their gold and count it in affright.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I learned new lessons in that school of fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Life took a fresh perspective; sad and brave<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The view is from the threshold of the grave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In that long, backward glance I saw her clear<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From fogs of gathering night, and all the show<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of small things that seemed great a while ago.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Our dreams of fame, the stubborn power we call<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our self-respect, our hopes of worldly good,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our jealousies and fears, how in the flood<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of this new light they faded, poor and small;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg&nbsp;26]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Showing our pettiness beside God's truth,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Besides His age our poor, unlearned youth.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The earth yearns forth, impatient for the days<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of its maturity, the ample sweets<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Summer's fulness; and its great heart beats<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With a fierce restlessness, for Spring delays<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Seeing her giddy reign end all too soon,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her bud-crown ravished by the hand of June.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I,&mdash;I shall be happy,&mdash;promise me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This one small thing, Beloved, for I long<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For happiness as the caged bird for song.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not where four walls close in the melody<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I want the fresh, sweet air, the water's gush,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The strong, sane life with thee, the summer hush.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg&nbsp;27]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_Song_of_Dawn" id="A_Song_of_Dawn"></a>A Song of Dawn.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In the east a lightening;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the woods are chill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moves an unseen finger,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Wakes a sudden thrill;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">In my soul a glimmer,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hush! no words are heard!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In heart-ambush hidden<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Chirrup of a bird;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Tremble heart and forest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Like a frightened fawn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleam the distant tree-tops,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hither comes the dawn!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg&nbsp;28]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Weariness" id="Weariness"></a>Weariness.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This April sun has wakened into cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These threadbare leaves of fancy brown and old.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is for us the wakening of the year<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And May's sweet breath will draw the waiting soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To where in distance lies the longed-for goal.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The summer life will still all questioning,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The leaves will whisper peace, and calm will be<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And we shall hush our murmurings, and bring<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To Nature, green below and blue above,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A whole life's worshipping, a whole life's love.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg&nbsp;29]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">We will not speak of sometime fretting fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We will not think of aught that may arise<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In future hours to cloud our golden skies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Some souls there are who love their woes and tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gaining their joy by contrast, but for thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And me, Beloved, peace is ecstasy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It was not always so, there was a time<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When I would choose the rocky mountain way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And climb the hills of doubt to find the day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Fresh effort brought fresh zest, and winter's rime<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Chilled not but crowned endeavor, and the heat<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of summer thrilled, and made the pulses beat.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now I am so weary that I turn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From labor with a shudder, and from pain<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg&nbsp;30]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">As from an enemy; I see no gain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In suffering, and cleansing fires must burn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As keenly as desire, so let me know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quiet with thee, and twilight's afterglow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I, who have boasted of my strength and will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And ventured daring flights, and stood alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In fearless, flushed defiance, I have grown<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Humble, and seek another hand to fill<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Life's cup, and other eyes to pierce the skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Wisdom's dear, sad, mighty mysteries.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! I will lie so quiet in thine arms<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I will not stir thee; and thy whisperings<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shall teach me patience, and so many things<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I have not learned as yet. And all alarms<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will melt in peace when, safe from tempest's rage<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My wind-tossed ship has found its anchorage.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg&nbsp;31]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="A_Song_of_Rest" id="A_Song_of_Rest"></a>A Song of Rest.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The world may rage without,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Quiet is here;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Statesmen may toil and shout,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Cynics may sneer;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The great world&mdash;let it go&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">June warmth be March's snow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I care not&mdash;be it so<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Since I am here.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Time was when war's alarm<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Called for a fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When sorrow's seeming harm<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Hastened a tear;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Naught care I now what foe<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Threatens, for scarce I know<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">How the year's seasons go<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Since I am here.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg&nbsp;32]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is my resting-place<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Holy and dear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where Pain's dejected face<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">May not appear.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This is the world to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Earth's woes I will not see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But rest contentedly<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Since I am here.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Is't your voice chiding, Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">My mild career?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My meek abiding, Love,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Daily so near?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"Danger and loss" to me?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah, Sweet, I fear to see<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No loss but loss of <i>Thee</i><br /></span>
+<span class="i4">And I am here.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg&nbsp;33]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Death" id="Death"></a>Death.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">If days should pass without a written word<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To tell me of thy welfare, and if days<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Should lengthen out to weeks, until the maze<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of questioning fears confused me, and I heard.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Life-sounds as echoes; and one came and said<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">After these weeks of waiting: "He is dead!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Though the quick sword had found the vital part,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And the life-blood must mingle with the tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I think that, as the dying soldier hears<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The cries of victory, and feels his heart<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg&nbsp;34]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Surge with his country's triumph-hour, I could<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hope bravely on, and feel that God was good.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I could take up my thread of life again<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And weave my pattern though the colors were<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Faded forever. Though I might not dare<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dream often of thee, I should know that when<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Death came to thee upon thy lips my name<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lingered, and lingers ever without blame.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Aye, lingers ever. Though we may not know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Much that our spirits crave, yet is it given<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To us to feel that in the waiting Heaven<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Great souls are greater, and if God bestow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A mighty love He will not let it die<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through the vast ages of eternity.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg&nbsp;35]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But if some day the bitter knowledge swept<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Down on my life,&mdash;bearing my treasured freight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To founder on the shoals of scorn,&mdash;what Fate<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Smiling with awful irony had kept<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till life grew sweeter,&mdash;that my god was clay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That 'neath thy strength a lurking weakness lay;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">That thou, whom I had deemed a man of men<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Faulty, as great men are, but with no taint<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of baseness,&mdash;with those faults that shew the saint<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of after days, perhaps,&mdash;wert even then<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When first I loved thee but a spreading tree<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whose leaves shewed not its roots' deformity;<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg&nbsp;36]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I should not weep, for there are wounds that lie<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Too deep for tears,&mdash;and Death is but a friend<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who loves too dearly, and the parting end<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of Love's joy-day a paltry pain, a cry<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To God, then peace,&mdash;beside the torturing grief<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When honor dies, and trust, and soul's belief.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Travellers have told that in the Java isles<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The upas-tree breathes its dread vapor out<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Into the air; there needs no hand about<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Its branches for the poison's deadly wiles<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To work a strong man's hurt, for there is death<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Envenomed, noisome, in his every breath.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So would I breathe thy poison in my soul,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till all that had been wholesome, pure, and true<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shewed its decay, and stained and wasted grew.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg&nbsp;37]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">Though sundered as the distant Northern Pole<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From his far sister, I should bear thy blight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Upon me as I passed into the night.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Didst dream thy truth and honor meant so much<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To me, Dear Heart? Oh! I am full of tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To-night, of longing, love and foolish fears.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Would I might see thee, know thy tender touch,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For Time is long, and though I may not will<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To question Fate, I am a woman still.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg&nbsp;38]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Battle_Song" id="Battle_Song"></a>Battle Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Clear sounds the call on high:<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">"To arms and victory!"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Brave hearts that win or die,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Dying, may win;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Proudly the banners wave,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What though the goal's the grave?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Death cannot harm the brave,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Through death they win.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Softly the evening hush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stilling strife's maddened rush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Cools the fierce battle flush,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">See the day die;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A thousand faces white<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Mirror the cold moonlight<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And glassy eyes are bright<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">With Victory.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg&nbsp;39]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Content" id="Content"></a>Content.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have been wandering where the daisies grow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Great fields of tall, white daisies, and I saw<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Them bend reluctantly, and seem to draw<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Away in pride when the fresh breeze would blow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From timothy and yellow buttercup,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So by their fearless beauty lifted up.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Yet must they bend at the strong breeze's will,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bright, flawless things, whether in wrath he sweep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or, as oftimes, in mood caressing, creep<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Over the meadows and adown the hill.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So Love in sport or truth, as Fates allow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Blows over proud young hearts, and bids them bow.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg&nbsp;40]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So beautiful is it to live, so sweet<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To hear the ripple of the bobolink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To smell the clover blossoms white and pink,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To feel oneself far from the dusty street,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From dusty souls, from all the flare and fret<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of living, and the fever of regret.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have grown younger; I can scarce believe<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It is the same sad woman full of dreams<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of seven short weeks ago, for now it seems<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I am a child again, and can deceive<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My soul with daisies, plucking one by one<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The petals dazzling in the noonday sun.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Almost with old-time eagerness I try<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My fate, and say: "un peu," a soft "beaucoup,"<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then, lower, "passion&eacute;ment, pas du tout;"<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quick the white petals fall, and lovingly<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg&nbsp;41]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">I pluck the last, and drop with tender touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The knowing daisy, for he loves me "much."<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I can remember how, in childish days,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I deemed that he who held my heart in thrall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Must love me "passionately" or "not at all."<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Poor little wilful ignorant heart that prays<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">It knows not what, and heedlessly demands<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The best that life can give with out-stretched hands!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Now I am wiser, and have learned to prize<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Peace above passion, and the summer life<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Here with the flowers above the ceaseless strife<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of armed ambitions. They alone are wise<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Who know the daisy-secrets, and can hold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fast in their eager hands her heart of gold.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg&nbsp;42]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Sea-Song" id="Sea-Song"></a>Sea-Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A dash of spray,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">A weed-browned way,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My ship's in the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the glad blue bay,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The wind's from the west<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And the waves have a crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But my bird's in the nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my ship's in the bay!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">At dawn to stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Soft hand to hand,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Bare feet on the sand,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the hard brown sand,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To wait, dew-crowned,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the tarrying sound<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a keel that will ground<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">On the scraping sand.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg&nbsp;43]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A glad surprise<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the wind-swept skies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of my wee one's eyes,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those wondering eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">He will come, my sweet,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And will haste to meet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Those hurrying feet<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And those sea-blue eyes.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I know the day<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Must weary away,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my ship's in the bay,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the clear, blue bay,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! there's wind in the west,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the waves have a crest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But my bird's in the nest<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And my ship's in the bay!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg&nbsp;44]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Gratitude" id="Gratitude"></a>Gratitude.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are some things, dear Friend, are easier far<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To say in written words than when we sit<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Eye answering eye, or hand to hand close knit.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Not that there is between us any bar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of shyness or reserve; the day is past<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For that, and utter trust has come at last.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Only, when shut alone and safe inside<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These four white walls,&mdash;hearing no sound except<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our own heart-beatings, silences have crept<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stealthily round us,&mdash;as the incoming tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Quiet and unperceived creeps ever on<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Till mound and pebble, rock and reef are gone.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg&nbsp;45]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Or out on the green hillside, even there<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There is a hush, and words and thoughts are still.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the trees speak, and myriad voices fill<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With wondrous echoes all the waiting air.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">We listen, and in listening must forget<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our own hearts' murmur, and our spirits' fret;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even our joys,&mdash;thou knowest;&mdash;when the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is full to overflowing with the sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of hope fulfilled and passion's vehemence.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is no place for words; we do not dare<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To break Love's stillness, even though the power<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Were ours by speech to lengthen out the hour.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But here in quietness I can recall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All I would tell thee, how thou art to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Impulse and inspiration, and with thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">I can but smile though all my idols fall.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg&nbsp;46]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">I wait my meed as others who have known<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Patience till to their utmost stature grown.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As when the heavens are draped in gloomy gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And earth is tremulous with a vague unrest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A glory fills the tender, troubled West<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">That glads the closing of November's day,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">So breaks in sun-smiles my beclouded sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">When day is over and I know thee nigh.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou art so much, all this and more, to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And what am I to thee? Can I repay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These many gifts? Is there no royal way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of recompense, so I may proudly see<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The man my heart delights to praise renowned<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For wealth and honor, and with rapture crowned?<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg&nbsp;47]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! though there is no recompense in love<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Yet have I paid thee, given these gifts to thee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Joy, riches, worship. Thou hast joy in me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Is it not so, Beloved? Who shall prove<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No worship of thee by my soul confessed?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And riches? Ah! a wealth of love is best.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg&nbsp;48]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song43" id="Song43"></a>Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have known a thousand pleasures,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Love is best&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ocean's songs and forest treasures,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Work and rest,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Jewelled joys of dear existence,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Triumph over Fate's resistance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">But to prove, through Time's wide distance,<br /></span>
+<span class="i4">Love is best.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg&nbsp;49]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Prayer" id="Prayer"></a>Prayer.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I stood upon a hill, and watched the death<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the day's turmoil. Still the glory spread<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Cloud-top to cloud-top, and each rearing head<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trembled to crimson. So a mighty breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From some wild Titan in a rising ire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Might kindle flame in voicing his desire.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Soft stirred the evening air; the pine-crowned hills<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Glowed in an answering rapture where the flush<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Grew to a blood-drop, and the vesper hush<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Moved in my soul, while from my life all ills<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Faded and passed away. God's voice was there<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And in my heart the silence was a prayer.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg&nbsp;50]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There was a day when to my fearfulness<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Was born a joy, when doubt was swept afar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A shadow and a memory, and a star<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gleamed in my sky more bright for the distress.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The stillness breathed thanksgiving, and the air<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Wafted, methought, the incense of a prayer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Heaven sets no bounds of bead-roll or appeal;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And when the fiery heart with mute embrace<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bends, tremblingly, but for a moment's space<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">It needs no words that cry, no limbs that kneel.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As meteors flash, so, in a moment's light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Life, darting forth, touches the Infinite.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">All my prayers wordless? Nay, I can recall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A night not so long past but that each thought<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg&nbsp;51]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Lives at this hour, and throbs again unsought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">When Silence broods, and Night's chill shadows fall;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Then Darkness' thousand pulses thrilled and stirred<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With the dear grace of a remembered word;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And I was still, thy voice enshrouding me.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like the strong sweep of ocean-breath the power<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of one resistless thought transformed my hour<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of love-dreams to a fear. All hopelessly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I knew love's impotence, and my despair<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stretched soul-hands forth, and quivered to a prayer.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">My passionate heart cried out: "If his dear life<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through stress of keen temptation merits aught<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of penance or requital, be it wrought<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Upon <i>my</i> life. If only through the strife<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg&nbsp;52]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Is won the peace, through drudgery the gain,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Give him the issue, and to me the pain!"<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Some day, in our soul's course o'er trackless lands,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swayed oft by adverse winds, or swept along<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In Fate's wild current with the fluttering throng<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Towards Sin's engulfing maelstrom, spirit hands<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Will brace our trembling wings, and through the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Point and upbear in our last trembling flight.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg&nbsp;53]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song53" id="Song53"></a>Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Red gleams the mountain ridge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Slow the stream creeps<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Under the old bent bridge,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And labor sleeps.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are no restless birds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No leaves that stir,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dusk her gray mantle girds,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Night's harbinger.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">The storm-soul's change and start<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Pause, lull, and cease;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In my unquiet heart<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is born a peace.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg&nbsp;54]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Loneliness" id="Loneliness"></a>Loneliness.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Dear, I am lonely, for the bay is still<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As any hill-girt lake; the long brown beach<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Lies bare and wet. As far as eye can reach<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">There is no motion. Even on the hill<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where the breeze loves to wander I can see<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No stir of leaves, nor any waving tree.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is a great red cliff that fronts my view<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A bare, unsightly thing; it angers me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With its unswerving-grim monotony.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The mackerel weir, with branching boughs askew<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Stands like a fire-swept forest, while the sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Laps it, with soothing sighs, continually.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg&nbsp;55]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There are no tempests in this sheltered bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The stillness frets me, and I long to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where winds sweep strong and blow tempestuously,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To stand upon some hill-top far away<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And face a gathering gale, and let the stress<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Nature's mood subdue my restlessness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">An impulse seizes me, a mad desire<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To tear away that red-browed cliff, to sweep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Its crest of trees and huts into the deep;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To force a gap by axe, or storm, or fire,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And let rush in with motion glad and free<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The rolling waves of the wild wondrous sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sometimes I wonder if I am the child<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of calm, law-loving parents, or a stray<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From some wild gypsy camp. I cannot stay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Quiet among my fellows; when this wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Longing for freedom takes me I must fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To my dear woods and know my liberty.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg&nbsp;56]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It is this cringing to a social law<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That I despise, these changing, senseless forms<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of fashion! And until a thousand storms<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of God's impatience shall reveal the flaw<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In man's pet system, he will weave the spell<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About his heart and dream that all is well.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ah! Life is hard, Dear Heart, for I am left<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To battle with my old-time fears alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I must live calmly on, and make no moan<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Though of my hoped-for happiness bereft.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thou wilt not come, and still the red cliff lies<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Hiding my ocean from these longing eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg&nbsp;57]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Sea-Song57" id="Sea-Song57"></a>Sea-Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It sings to me, it sings to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The shore-blown voice of the blithesome sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of its world of gladness all untold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of its heart of green, and its mines of gold,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And desires that leap and flee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It moans to me, it moans to me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The storm-stirred voice of the restive sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the vain dismay and the yearning pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For hopes that will never be born again<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">From the womb of the wavering sea.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It calls to me, it calls to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The luring voice of the rebel sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I long with a love that is born of tears<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For the wild fresh life, and the glorying fears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">For the quest and the mystery.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg&nbsp;58]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">It wails to me, it wails to me,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of the deep dark graves in the yawning sea;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And I hear the voice of a boy that is gone.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But the lad sleeps sound till the judgment-dawn<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In the heart of the wind-swept sea.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg&nbsp;59]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Incompleteness" id="Incompleteness"></a>Incompleteness.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Since first I met thee, Dear, and long before<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I knew myself beloved, save by the sense<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">All women have, a shadowy confidence<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half-fear, that <i>feels</i> its bliss nor asks for more,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I have learned new desires, known Love's distress<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sounded the deepest depths of loneliness.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I was a child at heart, and lived alone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dreaming my dreams, as children may, at whiles,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Between their hours of play, and Earth's broad smiles<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Allured my heart, and ocean's marvellous tone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Woke no strange echoes, and the woods' complain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Made chants sonorous, stirred no thoughts of pain.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg&nbsp;60]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And if, sometimes, dear Nature spoke to me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In tones mysterious, I had learned so much<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dwelling beside her daily, that her touch<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Made me discerning. Though I might not see<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her purpose nor her meaning, I had part<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the proud throbbing of that mighty heart.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But now the earth has put a tiring-cloth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">About her face; even in the mountains' cheer<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">There is a lack, and in the sea a fear,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The glad, rash sea, whose every mood, if wroth<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or soothing mild, is dear to me as are<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Joy's new-born kisses on the lips of Care.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Since I have known thee, Dear, all life has grown<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">An expectation. As the swelling grain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Trembles to harvesting, and earth in pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Travails till Spring is born, so felt alone<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg&nbsp;61]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Is the dumb reaching out of things unborn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The night's gray promise of the amber morn.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I long to taste my pleasures through thy lips,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To sail with thee o'er foaming waves and feel<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our spirits rise together with the reel<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of waters and the wavering land's eclipse;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To see thy fair hair damp with salt sea-spray<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And in thine eyes the wildness of the way.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I long to share my woods with thee, to fly<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To some black-hearted forest where the trail<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of mortals lingers not,&mdash;to hear the gale.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Sweep round us with a shuddering ecstasy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To feel, night's tumult passed, the cool soft hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of the untroubled dawn move o'er the land.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg&nbsp;62]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To swim with thee far out into the bay,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A trembling glitter on the waves, the shore<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Glowing with noontide fervor, nevermore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To fear the treacherous depths, though long the way.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sweet beyond words the sighs that breathe and blow,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The moist salt kisses, and the glad warm glow.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">And when the unrest, the vague desires that rush<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Over our lives and may not be denied,&mdash;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Gone in the tasting,&mdash;lure us where the tide<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of men sweeps on, let us forget the hush<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Together, and in city madness drain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Our cup of pleasure to its dregs of pain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Ever I need thee. Incomplete and poor<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This life of mine. Yet never dream my soul<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Craves the old peace. Till I may have the whole<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg&nbsp;63]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">My joy is my abiding, and what more<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of dreams and waking bliss the Fates allow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Comes as a gift of Love's great overflow.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg&nbsp;64]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song64" id="Song64"></a>Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Deep in the green bracken lying,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Close by the welcoming sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Dream I, and let all my dreaming<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drift as it will, Love, to thee.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sated with splendid caresses<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Showered by the sun in his pride,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Scorched by his passionate kisses<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Languidly ebbs the tide.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg&nbsp;65]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Lifes_Joys" id="Lifes_Joys"></a>Life's Joys.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I have been pondering what our teachers call<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The mystery of Pain; and lo! my thought<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">After it's half-blind reaching out has caught<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">This truth and held it fast. We may not fall<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Beyond our mounting; stung by life's annoy,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Deeper we feel the mystery of Joy.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sometimes they steal across us like a breath<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of Eastern perfume in a darkened room,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These joys of ours; we grope on through the gloom<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Seeking some common thing, and from its sheath<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg&nbsp;66]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Unloose, unknowing, some bewildering scent<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of spice-thronged memories of the Orient.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Sometimes they dart across our turbid sky<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Like a quick flash after a heated day.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A moment, where the sombrous shadows lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We see a glory. Though it passed us by<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">No earthly power can filch that dazzling glow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">From memory's eye, that instant's shine and show.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Life is so full of joys. The alluring sea,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">This morning clear and placid, may, ere night,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Toss like a petulant child, and when the light<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of a new morning dawns sweep grand and free<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A mighty power. If fierce, or mild, or bright,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With every tide flows in a fresh delight.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg&nbsp;67]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">I can remember well when first I knew<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The fragrance of white clover. There I lay<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the warm July grass and heard the play<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of sun-browned insects, and the breezes blew<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To my drowsed sense the scent the blossoms had;<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The subtle sweetness stayed, and I was glad.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Nor passed the gladness. Though the years have gone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(A many years, Beloved, since that day,)<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Whenever by the roadside or away<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In radiant summer fields, wandering alone<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Or with glad children, to my restless sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Shows that pale head, comes back the old delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Oh! the dark water, and the filling sail!<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg&nbsp;68]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">The scudding like a sea-mew, with the hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Firm on the tiller! See, the red-shored land<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Receding, as we brave the hastening gale!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">White gleam the wave-tops, and the breakers' roar<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Sounds thunderingly on the far distant shore.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This mad hair flying in the breeze blows wild<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Across my face. See, there, the gathering squall,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">That dark line to the eastward, watch it crawl<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stealthily towards us o'er the snow-wreaths piled<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Close on each other! Ah! what joy to be<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drunk with salt air, in battle with the sea!<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So many joys, and yet I have but told<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of simple things, the joys of air and sea!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Not all these things are worth one hour with thee,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg&nbsp;69]</a></span>
+<span class="i0">One moment, when thy daring arms enfold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My body, and all other, meaner joys,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Fade from me like a child's forgotten toys.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">One thought is ever with me, glorying all<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Life's common aims. Surely will dawn a day<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bright with an unknown rapture, when thy way<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Will be <i>my</i> journey-road, and I can call<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">These joys <i>our</i> joys, for thou wilt walk with me<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Down budding pathways to the abounding sea.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg&nbsp;70]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song70" id="Song70"></a>Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Low laughed the Columbine,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Trembled her petals fine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As the breeze blew;<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In her dove-heart there stirred<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Murmurs the dull bee heard,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And Love, Life's wild white bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Straightway she knew.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Resting her lilac cheek<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gently, in aspect meek,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On the gray stone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The morning-glory, free,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Welcomed the yellow bee,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Heard the near-rolling sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Murmur and moan.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg&nbsp;71]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Calm lay the tawny sand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Stretching a long wet hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To the far wave.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Swift to her warm waiting breast<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Longing to be possessed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Leaps 'neath his billowy crest<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Her Lover brave.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg&nbsp;72]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Barter" id="Barter"></a>Barter</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is a long thin line of fading gold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the far West, and the transfigured leaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On some slight, topmost bough that sways and heaves<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Hang limp and tremulous. Nor warm, nor cold<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The pungent air, and, 'neath the yellow haze,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Show flushed and glad the wild, October ways.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">There is a soft enchantment in the air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A mystery the Summer knows not, nor<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The sturdy, frost-crowned Winter. Nature wore<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Her blandest smile to-day, as here and there<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg&nbsp;73]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">I wandered, elf-beset, through wood and field<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And gleaned the glories of the autumn yield.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">A bunch of purple aster, golden-rod<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Darkened by the first frost, a drooping spray<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of scarlet barberry, and tall and gray<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">The silk-cored cotton with its bursting pod,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Some tarnished maple-boughs, and, like a flash<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of sudden flame, a branch of mountain ash.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">She smiled, but it was not the welcoming smile<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of frank surrender. As a witching maid<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In gorgeous garments cunningly arrayed<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Might smile and draw them closer, hers the guile<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To let men hope, pray, labor in love's stress<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere they her hidden beauties may possess.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg&nbsp;74]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Deep in the heart of earth where the springs rise,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Down with the sweet linn&aelig;a and the moss,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">In the brown thrush's throat, where the pines toss<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">In Winter's harrying storms her secret lies.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ours the chill night-dews and the waiting pain<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Ere we her fairy wealth may hope to gain.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">'Tis so with knowledge. Eagerly we turn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Great Wisdom's page, and when our clear eyes grow<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Dim in the dusk of years, and heads bend low<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Weary at last, the truth we strove to learn<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is ours forever. But its joy of sight<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is dearly bought, methinks, with Youth's delight.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Fate, too, with chaffering voice and beckoning hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Doles out our happiness; we snatch at wealth<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg&nbsp;75]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">And pay with anxious care and fading health.<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">We call for Love, and dream that we shall stand<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">On ground enchanted, but, though sweet the way,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The rocks are sharp, and grief comes with the Day.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Even in love, Dear Heart, there is exchange<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of gifts and griefs, and so I render thee<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Vows for thy vows, and pay unfalteringly<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">What love demands, nor ever deem it strange.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And when the snow drifts fast, and north-winds sting<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I make no murmur, but await the Spring.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg&nbsp;76]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song76" id="Song76"></a>Song.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Joy came in youth as a humming-bird,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(Sing hey! for the honey and bloom of life!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And it made a home in my summer bower<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">With the honeysuckle and the sweet-pea flower.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(Sing hey! for the blossoms and sweets of life!)<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Joy came as a lark when the years had gone,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(Ah! hush, hush still, for the dream is short!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I gazed far up to the melting blue<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Where the rare song dropped like a golden dew.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(Ah! sweet is the song tho' the dream be short!)<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg&nbsp;77]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Joy hovers now in a far-off mist,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(The night draws on and the air breathes snow!)<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And I reach, sometimes, with a trembling hand<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">To the red-tipped cloud of the joy-bird's land.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">(Alas! for the days of the storm and the snow!)<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg&nbsp;78]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="To-Morrow" id="To-Morrow"></a>To-Morrow.</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">But one short night between my Love and me!<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I watch the soft-shod dusk creep wistfully<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Through the slow-moving curtains, pausing by<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">And shrouding with its spirit-fingers free<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Each well-known chair. There is a growing grace<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of tender magic in this little place.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Comes through half-opened windows, soft and cool<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">As Spring's young breath, the vagrant evening air,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My day-worn soul is hushed. I fain would bear<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">No burdens on my brain to-night, no rule<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg&nbsp;79]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Of anxious thought; the world has had my tears,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My thoughts, my hopes, my aims these many years;<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">This is Thy hour, and I shall sink to sleep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">With a glad weariness, to know that when<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The new day dawns I shall lay by my pen<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Needed no more. If I, perchance, should weep<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">A few quick tears, so doing, who would guess<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">'Twas the last throb of my soul's loneliness?<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Not even thou, Dear Heart, canst ever know<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">How I have yearned these many months, these years<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">For love, for thee. As the calm boatman steers<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">His slender shallop where he fain would go,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Tempests and rocks before, so through the dark<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">To this dim, far-off day has set my bark.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg&nbsp;80]</a></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">To-morrow! I can hear the quick-closed door,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The approaching steps, my pained heart's fluttering,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Thy voice, then Thee! And all the storm and sting<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Of bygone griefs are passed forevermore,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Swept from my life as the resistless wind<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Scatters the chaff, nor leaves a mote behind.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">As long-imprisoned captives reach the light,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And gaze with greedy eyes on field and tree,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Drinking the beauties of the sky and sea<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Half fearful of their bliss; so from the night<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of dreams and shades, half doubting, we awake<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">And grasp the joy we almost fear to take.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Thou hidest in thy warm ones my cold hand,<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg&nbsp;81]</a></span>
+<span class="i2">Reading my soul in these unwavering eyes.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Nay, thou hast known my hopes, my agonies<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Through written words, and thou canst understand.<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">I have kept nothing back of all the streams<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Of my heart-flowings&mdash;doubts, nor fears, nor dreams.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">So long my life has followed no control<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">But mine own impulse; now, I pray thee, bend<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">My will to thine, and so, unhindered, tend<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">My soul's wild garden. I have laid the whole<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Bare to thy sowing; and life's precious wine<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Is of thy pouring, and thy way is mine.<br /></span>
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg&nbsp;82]</a></span></div></div>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 35%;" />
+<h2><a name="Song82" id="Song82"></a>Song</h2>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">Where is the waiting-time?<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Where are the fears?<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Gone with the winter's rime,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">The bygone years.<br /></span>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">O'er life's plain, lone and vast,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Slow treads the morn,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Night shades have moved and passed,<br /></span>
+<span class="i2">Joy's day is born.<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+
+
+<p class='center'>THE END.</p>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman's Love Letters, by Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
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+
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+Project Gutenberg's A Woman's Love Letters, by Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
+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: A Woman's Love Letters
+
+Author: Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
+Release Date: May 8, 2006 [EBook #18351]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A WOMAN'S LOVE LETTERS ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Thierry Alberto, Christine D. 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))
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+The Fleur de Lis Poets.
+
+A WOMAN'S
+
+LOVE LETTERS.
+
+BY SOPHIE M. ALMON-HENSLEY
+
+
+
+    NEW YORK. J. SELWIN TAIT
+    AND SONS, NUMBER SIXTY-FIVE
+    FIFTH AVENUE.
+
+
+
+
+COPYRIGHT, 1895
+
+    BY
+    J. SELWIN TAIT & SONS
+    NEW YORK
+
+
+
+CONTENTS.
+
+    A Dream,                         1
+    Dream-Song,                      8
+    Doubt,                           9
+    Song,                           13
+    Anticipation,                   14
+    Song,                           18
+    Misunderstanding,               19
+    Shadow-Song,                    23
+    Revulsion,                      24
+    A Song of Dawn,                 27
+    Weariness,                      28
+    A Song of Rest,                 31
+    Death,                          33
+    Battle-Song,                    38
+    Content,                        39
+    Sea-Song,                       42
+    Gratitude,                      44
+    Song,                           48
+    Prayer,                         49
+    Song,                           53
+    Loneliness,                     54
+    Sea-Song,                       57
+    Incompleteness,                 59
+    Song,                           65
+    Life's Joys,                    65
+    Song,                           70
+    Barter,                         72
+    Song,                           76
+    To-morrow,                      78
+    Song,                           82
+
+
+
+
+A Dream.
+
+    I stood far off above the haunts of men
+      Somewhere, I know not, when the sky was dim
+      From some worn glory, and the morning hymn
+    Of the gay oriole echoed from the glen.
+      Wandering, I felt earth's peace, nor knew I sought
+      A visioned face, a voice the wind had caught.
+
+    I passed the waking things that stirred and gazed,
+      Thought-bound, and heeded not; the waking flowers
+      Drank in the morning mist, dawn's tender showers,
+    And looked forth for the Day-god who had blazed
+      His heart away and died at sundown. Far
+      In the gray west faded a loitering star.
+
+    It seemed that I had wandered through long years,
+      A life of years, still seeking gropingly
+      A thing I dared not name; now I could see
+    In the still dawn a hope, in the soft tears
+      Of the deep-hearted violets a breath
+      Of kinship, like the herald voice of Death.
+
+    Slow moved the morning; where the hill was bare
+      Woke a reluctant breeze. Dimly I knew
+      My Day was come. The wind-blown blossoms threw
+    Their breath about me, and the pine-swept air
+      Grew to a shape, a mighty, formless thing,
+      A phantom of the wood's imagining.
+
+    And as I gazed, spell-bound, it seemed to move
+      Its tendril limbs, still swaying tremulously
+      As if in spirit-doubt; then glad and free
+    Crystalled the being won from waiting grove
+      Into a human likeness. There he stood,
+      The vine-browed shape of Nature's mortal mood.
+
+    "Now have I found thee, Vision I have sought
+      These years, unknowing; surely thou art fair
+      And inly wise, and on thy tasselled hair
+    Glows Heaven's own light. Passion and fame are naught
+      To thy clear eyes, O Prince of many lands,--
+      Grant me thy joy," I cried, and stretched my hands.
+
+    No answer but the flourish of the breeze
+      Through the black pines. Then, slowly, as the wind
+      Parts the dense cloud-forms, leaving naught behind
+    But shapeless vapor, through the budding trees
+      Drifted some force unseen, and from my sight
+      Faded my god into the morning light.
+
+    Again alone. With wistful, straining eyes
+      I waited, and the sunshine flecked the bank
+      Happy with arbutus and violets where I sank
+    Hearing, near by, a host of melodies,
+      The rapture of the woodthrush; soft her mood
+      The love-mate, with such golden numbers woo'd.
+
+    He ceased; the fresh moss-odors filled the grove
+      With a strange sweetness, the dark hemlock boughs
+      Moved soft, as though they heard the brooklet rouse
+    To its spring soul, and whisper low of love.
+      The white-robed birches stood unbendingly
+      Like royal maids, in proud expectancy.
+
+    Athwart the ramage where the young leaves press
+      It came to me, ah, call it what you will
+      Vision or waking dream, I see it still!
+    Again a form born of the woodland stress
+      Grew to my gaze, and by some secret sign
+      Though shadow-hid, I knew the form was thine.
+
+    The glancing sunlight made thy ruddy hair
+      A crown of gold, but on thy spirit-face
+      There was no smile, only a tender grace
+    Of love half doubt. Upon thy hand a rare
+      Wild bird of Paradise perched fearlessly
+      With radiant plumage and still, lustrous eye.
+
+    And as I gazed I saw what I had deemed
+      A shadow near thy hand, a dusky wing,
+      A bird like last year's leaves, so dull a thing
+    Beside its fellow; as the sunshine gleamed
+    Each breast showed letters bright as crystalled rain,
+      The fair bird bore "Delight," the other "Pain."
+
+    Then came thy voice: "O Love, wilt have my gift?"
+      I stretched my glad hands eagerly to grasp
+      The heaven-blown bird, gold-hued, and longed to clasp
+    It close and know it mine. Ere I might lift
+      The shining thing and hold it to my breast
+      Again I heard thy voice with vague unrest.
+
+    "These are twin birds and may not parted be."
+      Full in thine eyes I gazed, and read therein
+      The paradox of life, of love, of sin,
+    As on a night of cloud and mystery
+      One darting flash makes bright the hidden ways,
+      And feet tread knowingly though thick the haze.
+
+    Thy gift, if so I chose,--no other hand
+      Save thine.--I reached and gathered to my heart
+      The quivering, sentient things.--Sometimes I start
+    To know them hidden there.--If I should stand
+      Idly, some day, and _one_,--God help me!--breast
+      A homing breeze,--my _brown_ bird knows _its_ nest.
+
+
+
+
+Dream-Song.
+
+    Cam'st thou not nigh to me
+    In that one glimpse of thee
+    When thy lips, tremblingly,
+        Said: "My Beloved."
+    'Twas but a moment's space,
+    And in that crowded place
+    I dared not scan thy face
+        O! my Beloved.
+
+    Yet there may come a time
+    (Though loving be a crime
+    Only allowed in rhyme
+        To us, Beloved),
+    When safe 'neath sheltering arm
+    I may, without alarm,
+    Hear thy lips, close and warm,
+        Murmur: "Beloved!"
+
+
+
+
+Doubt.
+
+    I do not know if all the fault be mine,
+      Or why I may not think of thee and be
+      At peace with mine own heart. Unceasingly
+    Grim doubts beset me, bygone words of thine
+      Take subtle meaning, and I cannot rest
+      Till all my fears and follies are confessed.
+
+    Perhaps the wild wind's questioning has brought
+      My heart its melancholy, for, alone
+      In the night stillness, I can hear him moan
+    In sobbing gusts, as though he vainly sought
+      Some bygone bliss. Against the dripping pane
+      In storm-blown torrents beats the driving rain.
+
+    Nay I will tell thee all, I will not hide
+      One thought from thee, and if I do thee wrong
+      So much the more must I be brave and strong
+    To show my fault. And if thou then shouldst chide
+      I will accept reproof most willingly
+      So it but bringeth peace to thee and me.
+
+    I dread thy past. Phantoms of other days
+      Pursue my vision. There are other hands
+      Which thou hast held, perchance some slender bands
+    That draw thee still to other woodland ways
+      Than those which _we_ have known, some blissful hours
+      I do not share, of love, and June, and flowers.
+
+    I dread her most, that woman whom thou knewest
+      Those years ago,--I cannot bear to think
+      That she can say: "My lover praised the pink
+    Of palm, or ear," "The violets were bluest
+      In that dear copse," and dream of some fair day
+      When thou didst while her summer hours away.
+
+    I dread them too, those light loves and desires
+      That lie in the dim shadow of the years;
+      I fain would cheat myself of all my fears
+    And, as a child watching warm winter fires,
+      Dream not of yesterday's black embers, nor
+      To-morrow's ashes that may strew the floor.
+
+    I did not dream of this while thou wert near,
+      But now the thought that haunts me day by day
+      Is that the things I love, the tender way
+    Of mastery, the kisses that are dear
+      As Heaven's best gifts, to other lips and arms
+      Owe half their blessedness and all their charms.
+
+    Tell me that I am wrong, O! Man of men,
+      Surely it is not hard to comfort me,
+      Laugh at my fears with dear persistency,
+    Nay, if thou must, lie to me! There, again,
+      I hear the rain, and the wind's wailing cry
+      Stirs with wild life the night's monotony.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+              If I had known
+    That when the morrow dawned the roses would be dead
+    I would have filled my hands with blossoms white and red.
+              If I had known!
+
+              If I had known
+    That I should be to-day deaf to all happy birds
+    I would have lain for hours to listen to your words.
+              If I had known!
+
+              If I had known
+    That with the morning light you would be gone for aye
+    I would have been more kind;--sweet Love had won his way
+              If I had known.
+
+
+
+
+Anticipation.
+
+    Let us peer forward through the dusk of years
+      And force the silent future to reveal
+      Her store of garnered joys; we may not kneel
+    For ever, and entreat our bliss with tears.
+      Somewhere on this drear earth the sunshine lies,
+      Somewhere the air breathes Heaven-blown harmonies.
+
+    Some day when you and I have fully learned
+      Our waiting-lesson, wondering, hand in hand
+      We shall gaze out upon an unknown land,
+    Our thoughts and our desires forever turned
+      From our old griefs, as swallows, home warding,
+      Sweep ever southward with unwearied wing.
+
+    We shall fare forth, comrades for evermore.
+      Though the ill-omened bird Time loves to bear
+      Has brushed this cheek and left an impress there
+    I shall be fierce and dauntless as of yore,
+      Free as a bird o'er the wide world to rove,
+      And strong and fearless, O my Love, to love.
+
+    What have we now? The haunting, vague unrest
+      Of incompleted measures; and we dream
+      Vainly, of the Musician and His theme,
+    How the great Master in a day most blest
+      Shall strike some mighty chords in harmony,
+      And make an end, and set the music free!
+
+    We snatch from Fate our moments of delight,
+      Few as, in April hours, the wooing calls
+      Of orioles, or when the twilight falls
+    First o'er the forest ere the approach of night
+      The eyes of evening;--and Love's song is sung
+      But once, Dear Heart, but once, and we are young.
+
+    Over the seas together, you and I,
+      'Neath blue Italian skies, or on the hills
+      Of storied Greece,--where the warm sunlight fills
+    Spain's mellow vineyards,--wandering reverently
+      O'er the green plains of Palestine,--our days
+      A golden holiday in Old World ways.
+
+    Yet would we linger not by southern shores;
+      The bracing breath of Scandinavian snows
+      Would draw us from our dreams. The North wind blows
+    Upon thy cheek, my Norseman, and the roars
+      Of the wild Baltic sound within my ears
+      When to my dreams thy stalwart form appears.
+
+    This will the future bring. See! Thou hast given
+      From out the fulness of thy strength and will
+      This courage to me. Though the rugged hill
+    Looms high, and fronts our vision, yet our heaven
+      (I see it when I sleep) with portals wide
+      And shining towers, gleams on the farther side.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    "Tshirr!" scolds the oriole
+      Where the elms stir,
+    Flaunting her gourd-like nest
+    On the tree's swaying crest:
+    "May's here, I cannot rest,
+      Go away; tshirr!"
+
+    "Tshirr!" scolds the oriole
+      Where the leaves blur,
+    Giving her threads a jerk,
+    Spying where rivals lurk,
+    "May's here, and I'm at work.
+      Go away, tshirr!"
+
+
+
+
+Misunderstanding.
+
+    Spring's face is wreathed in smiles. She had been driven
+      Hither and thither at the surly will
+      Of treacherous winds till her sweet heart was chill.
+    Into her grasp the sceptre has been given
+      And now she touches with a proud young hand
+      The earth, and turns to blossoms all the land.
+
+    We catch the smile, the joyousness, the pride,
+      And share them with her. Surely winter gloom
+      Is for the old, and frost is for the tomb.
+    Youth must have pleasure, and the tremulous tide
+      Of sun-kissed waves, and all the golden fire
+      Of Summer's noontide splendor of desire.
+
+    I have forgotten,--for the breath of buds
+      Is on my temples, if in former days
+      I have known sorrow; I remember praise,
+    And calm content, and joy's great ocean-floods,
+      And many dreams so sweet that, in their place,
+      We would not welcome even Truth's fair face.
+
+    O Man to whom my heart hast leaned, dost know
+      Aught of my life? Sometimes a strong despair
+      Enters my soul and finds a lodging there;
+    Thou dost not know me, and the years will go
+      As these last months have gone, and I shall be
+      Still far, still a strange woman unto thee.
+
+    I do not blame thee. If there is a fault
+      Let it be mine, for surely had I tried
+      The door of my heart's home to open wide
+    No need had been for even Love's assault.
+      And yet, methinks, somewhere there is a key
+      Thou mightest have found, and entered happily.
+
+    I am no saint niched in a hallowed wall
+      For men to worship, but I would compel
+      A level gaze. You teachers who would tell
+    A woman's place I do defy you all!
+      While justice lives, and love with joy is crowned
+      Woman and man must meet on equal ground.
+
+    The deepest wrong is falsehood. She who sells
+      Her soul and body for a little gain
+      In ease, or the world's notice, has a stain
+    Upon her soul no lighter for the bells
+      Of marriage rites, and purer far is she
+      Who gives her all for love's sad ecstasy.
+
+    Canst thou not understand a nature strong
+      And passionate, with impulses that sway,
+      With yearning tenderness that must have way,
+    Yet knows no ill desire, no touch of wrong?
+      If thou canst not then in God's name I pray
+      See me no more forever from this day.
+
+
+
+
+Shadow Song.
+
+    The night is long
+      And there are no stars,--
+        Let me but dream
+        That the long fields gleam
+    With sunlight and song,
+    Then I shall not long
+      For the light of stars.
+
+    Let me but dream,--
+      For there are no stars,--
+        Dream that the ache
+        And the wild heart-break
+    Are but things that seem.
+    Ah! let me dream
+      For there are no stars.
+
+
+
+
+Revulsion.
+
+    I see the starting buds, I catch the gleam
+      In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool,
+      The blessed April air blows soft and cool,
+    Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream,
+      And we forget that close around us lie
+      A city's poor, a city's misery.
+
+    Of every outward vision there is some
+      Internal counterpart. To-day I know
+      The blessedness of living, and the glow
+    Of life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee come
+      In thought and wander where the fields are fair
+      With bursting life, and I, rejoicing, there.
+
+    Yet have I passed, Beloved, through the vale
+      Of dark dismay, and felt the dews of death
+      Upon my brow, have measured out my breath
+    Counting my hours of joy, as misers quail
+      At every footfall in the quiet night
+      And clutch their gold and count it in affright.
+
+    I learned new lessons in that school of fear,
+      Life took a fresh perspective; sad and brave
+      The view is from the threshold of the grave.
+    In that long, backward glance I saw her clear
+      From fogs of gathering night, and all the show
+      Of small things that seemed great a while ago.
+
+    Our dreams of fame, the stubborn power we call
+      Our self-respect, our hopes of worldly good,
+      Our jealousies and fears, how in the flood
+    Of this new light they faded, poor and small;
+      Showing our pettiness beside God's truth,
+      Besides His age our poor, unlearned youth.
+
+    The earth yearns forth, impatient for the days
+      Of its maturity, the ample sweets
+      Of Summer's fulness; and its great heart beats
+    With a fierce restlessness, for Spring delays
+      Seeing her giddy reign end all too soon,
+      Her bud-crown ravished by the hand of June.
+
+    And I,--I shall be happy,--promise me
+      This one small thing, Beloved, for I long
+      For happiness as the caged bird for song.
+    Not where four walls close in the melody
+      I want the fresh, sweet air, the water's gush,
+      The strong, sane life with thee, the summer hush.
+
+
+
+
+A Song of Dawn.
+
+    In the east a lightening;
+    Where the woods are chill
+    Moves an unseen finger,
+    Wakes a sudden thrill;
+
+    In my soul a glimmer,
+    Hush! no words are heard!
+    In heart-ambush hidden
+    Chirrup of a bird;
+
+    Tremble heart and forest
+    Like a frightened fawn,
+    Gleam the distant tree-tops,
+    Hither comes the dawn!
+
+
+
+
+Weariness.
+
+    This April sun has wakened into cheer
+      The wintry paths of thought, and tinged with gold
+      These threadbare leaves of fancy brown and old.
+    This is for us the wakening of the year
+      And May's sweet breath will draw the waiting soul
+      To where in distance lies the longed-for goal.
+
+    The summer life will still all questioning,
+      The leaves will whisper peace, and calm will be
+      The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea.
+    And we shall hush our murmurings, and bring
+      To Nature, green below and blue above,
+      A whole life's worshipping, a whole life's love.
+
+    We will not speak of sometime fretting fears,
+      We will not think of aught that may arise
+      In future hours to cloud our golden skies.
+    Some souls there are who love their woes and tears,
+      Gaining their joy by contrast, but for thee
+      And me, Beloved, peace is ecstasy.
+
+    It was not always so, there was a time
+      When I would choose the rocky mountain way,
+      And climb the hills of doubt to find the day.
+    Fresh effort brought fresh zest, and winter's rime
+      Chilled not but crowned endeavor, and the heat
+      Of summer thrilled, and made the pulses beat.
+
+    But now I am so weary that I turn
+      From labor with a shudder, and from pain
+      As from an enemy; I see no gain
+    In suffering, and cleansing fires must burn
+      As keenly as desire, so let me know
+      Quiet with thee, and twilight's afterglow.
+
+    I, who have boasted of my strength and will,
+      And ventured daring flights, and stood alone
+      In fearless, flushed defiance, I have grown
+    Humble, and seek another hand to fill
+      Life's cup, and other eyes to pierce the skies
+      Of Wisdom's dear, sad, mighty mysteries.
+
+    Ah! I will lie so quiet in thine arms
+      I will not stir thee; and thy whisperings
+      Shall teach me patience, and so many things
+    I have not learned as yet. And all alarms
+      Will melt in peace when, safe from tempest's rage
+      My wind-tossed ship has found its anchorage.
+
+
+
+
+A Song of Rest.
+
+    The world may rage without,
+        Quiet is here;
+    Statesmen may toil and shout,
+        Cynics may sneer;
+    The great world--let it go--
+    June warmth be March's snow,
+    I care not--be it so
+        Since I am here.
+
+    Time was when war's alarm
+        Called for a fear,
+    When sorrow's seeming harm
+        Hastened a tear;
+    Naught care I now what foe
+    Threatens, for scarce I know
+    How the year's seasons go
+        Since I am here.
+
+    This is my resting-place
+        Holy and dear,
+    Where Pain's dejected face
+        May not appear.
+    This is the world to me,
+    Earth's woes I will not see
+    But rest contentedly
+        Since I am here.
+
+    Is't your voice chiding, Love,
+        My mild career?
+    My meek abiding, Love,
+        Daily so near?
+    "Danger and loss" to me?
+    Ah, Sweet, I fear to see
+    No loss but loss of _Thee_
+        And I am here.
+
+
+
+
+Death.
+
+    If days should pass without a written word
+      To tell me of thy welfare, and if days
+      Should lengthen out to weeks, until the maze
+    Of questioning fears confused me, and I heard.
+      Life-sounds as echoes; and one came and said
+      After these weeks of waiting: "He is dead!"
+
+    Though the quick sword had found the vital part,
+      And the life-blood must mingle with the tears,
+      I think that, as the dying soldier hears
+    The cries of victory, and feels his heart
+      Surge with his country's triumph-hour, I could
+      Hope bravely on, and feel that God was good.
+
+    I could take up my thread of life again
+      And weave my pattern though the colors were
+      Faded forever. Though I might not dare
+    Dream often of thee, I should know that when
+      Death came to thee upon thy lips my name
+      Lingered, and lingers ever without blame.
+
+    Aye, lingers ever. Though we may not know
+      Much that our spirits crave, yet is it given
+      To us to feel that in the waiting Heaven
+    Great souls are greater, and if God bestow
+      A mighty love He will not let it die
+      Through the vast ages of eternity.
+
+    But if some day the bitter knowledge swept
+      Down on my life,--bearing my treasured freight
+      To founder on the shoals of scorn,--what Fate
+    Smiling with awful irony had kept
+      Till life grew sweeter,--that my god was clay,
+      That 'neath thy strength a lurking weakness lay;
+
+    That thou, whom I had deemed a man of men
+      Faulty, as great men are, but with no taint
+      Of baseness,--with those faults that shew the saint
+    Of after days, perhaps,--wert even then
+      When first I loved thee but a spreading tree
+      Whose leaves shewed not its roots' deformity;
+
+    I should not weep, for there are wounds that lie
+      Too deep for tears,--and Death is but a friend
+      Who loves too dearly, and the parting end
+    Of Love's joy-day a paltry pain, a cry
+      To God, then peace,--beside the torturing grief
+      When honor dies, and trust, and soul's belief.
+
+    Travellers have told that in the Java isles
+      The upas-tree breathes its dread vapor out
+      Into the air; there needs no hand about
+    Its branches for the poison's deadly wiles
+      To work a strong man's hurt, for there is death
+      Envenomed, noisome, in his every breath.
+
+    So would I breathe thy poison in my soul,
+      Till all that had been wholesome, pure, and true
+      Shewed its decay, and stained and wasted grew.
+    Though sundered as the distant Northern Pole
+      From his far sister, I should bear thy blight
+      Upon me as I passed into the night.
+
+    Didst dream thy truth and honor meant so much
+      To me, Dear Heart? Oh! I am full of tears
+      To-night, of longing, love and foolish fears.
+    Would I might see thee, know thy tender touch,
+      For Time is long, and though I may not will
+      To question Fate, I am a woman still.
+
+
+
+
+Battle Song.
+
+    Clear sounds the call on high:
+    "To arms and victory!"
+    Brave hearts that win or die,
+        Dying, may win;
+    Proudly the banners wave,
+    What though the goal's the grave?
+    Death cannot harm the brave,--
+        Through death they win.
+
+    Softly the evening hush
+    Stilling strife's maddened rush
+    Cools the fierce battle flush,--
+        See the day die;
+    A thousand faces white
+    Mirror the cold moonlight
+    And glassy eyes are bright
+        With Victory.
+
+
+
+
+Content.
+
+    I have been wandering where the daisies grow,
+      Great fields of tall, white daisies, and I saw
+      Them bend reluctantly, and seem to draw
+    Away in pride when the fresh breeze would blow
+      From timothy and yellow buttercup,
+      So by their fearless beauty lifted up.
+
+    Yet must they bend at the strong breeze's will,
+      Bright, flawless things, whether in wrath he sweep
+      Or, as oftimes, in mood caressing, creep
+    Over the meadows and adown the hill.
+      So Love in sport or truth, as Fates allow,
+      Blows over proud young hearts, and bids them bow.
+
+    So beautiful is it to live, so sweet
+      To hear the ripple of the bobolink,
+      To smell the clover blossoms white and pink,
+    To feel oneself far from the dusty street,
+      From dusty souls, from all the flare and fret
+      Of living, and the fever of regret.
+
+    I have grown younger; I can scarce believe
+      It is the same sad woman full of dreams
+      Of seven short weeks ago, for now it seems
+    I am a child again, and can deceive
+      My soul with daisies, plucking one by one
+      The petals dazzling in the noonday sun.
+
+    Almost with old-time eagerness I try
+      My fate, and say: "un peu," a soft "beaucoup,"
+      Then, lower, "passionement, pas du tout;"
+    Quick the white petals fall, and lovingly
+      I pluck the last, and drop with tender touch
+      The knowing daisy, for he loves me "much."
+
+    I can remember how, in childish days,
+      I deemed that he who held my heart in thrall
+      Must love me "passionately" or "not at all."
+    Poor little wilful ignorant heart that prays
+      It knows not what, and heedlessly demands
+      The best that life can give with out-stretched hands!
+
+    Now I am wiser, and have learned to prize
+      Peace above passion, and the summer life
+      Here with the flowers above the ceaseless strife
+    Of armed ambitions. They alone are wise
+      Who know the daisy-secrets, and can hold
+      Fast in their eager hands her heart of gold.
+
+
+
+
+Sea-Song.
+
+    A dash of spray,
+    A weed-browned way,--
+    My ship's in the bay,
+    In the glad blue bay,--
+    The wind's from the west
+    And the waves have a crest,
+    But my bird's in the nest
+    And my ship's in the bay!
+
+    At dawn to stand
+    Soft hand to hand,
+    Bare feet on the sand,--
+    On the hard brown sand,--
+    To wait, dew-crowned,
+    For the tarrying sound
+    Of a keel that will ground
+    On the scraping sand.
+
+    A glad surprise
+    In the wind-swept skies
+    Of my wee one's eyes,--
+    Those wondering eyes.
+    He will come, my sweet,
+    And will haste to meet
+    Those hurrying feet
+    And those sea-blue eyes.
+
+    I know the day
+    Must weary away,
+    And my ship's in the bay,--
+    In the clear, blue bay,--
+    Ah! there's wind in the west,
+    For the waves have a crest,
+    But my bird's in the nest
+    And my ship's in the bay!
+
+
+
+
+Gratitude.
+
+    There are some things, dear Friend, are easier far
+      To say in written words than when we sit
+      Eye answering eye, or hand to hand close knit.
+    Not that there is between us any bar
+      Of shyness or reserve; the day is past
+      For that, and utter trust has come at last.
+
+    Only, when shut alone and safe inside
+      These four white walls,--hearing no sound except
+      Our own heart-beatings, silences have crept
+    Stealthily round us,--as the incoming tide
+      Quiet and unperceived creeps ever on
+      Till mound and pebble, rock and reef are gone.
+
+    Or out on the green hillside, even there
+      There is a hush, and words and thoughts are still.
+      For the trees speak, and myriad voices fill
+    With wondrous echoes all the waiting air.
+      We listen, and in listening must forget
+    Our own hearts' murmur, and our spirits' fret;
+
+    Even our joys,--thou knowest;--when the air
+      Is full to overflowing with the sense
+      Of hope fulfilled and passion's vehemence.
+    There is no place for words; we do not dare
+      To break Love's stillness, even though the power
+      Were ours by speech to lengthen out the hour.
+
+    But here in quietness I can recall
+      All I would tell thee, how thou art to me
+      Impulse and inspiration, and with thee
+    I can but smile though all my idols fall.
+      I wait my meed as others who have known
+      Patience till to their utmost stature grown.
+
+    As when the heavens are draped in gloomy gray
+      And earth is tremulous with a vague unrest
+      A glory fills the tender, troubled West
+    That glads the closing of November's day,
+      So breaks in sun-smiles my beclouded sky
+      When day is over and I know thee nigh.
+
+    Thou art so much, all this and more, to me,
+      And what am I to thee? Can I repay
+      These many gifts? Is there no royal way
+    Of recompense, so I may proudly see
+      The man my heart delights to praise renowned
+      For wealth and honor, and with rapture crowned?
+
+    Ah! though there is no recompense in love
+      Yet have I paid thee, given these gifts to thee,
+      Joy, riches, worship. Thou hast joy in me,
+    Is it not so, Beloved? Who shall prove
+      No worship of thee by my soul confessed?
+      And riches? Ah! a wealth of love is best.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    I have known a thousand pleasures,--
+            Love is best--
+    Ocean's songs and forest treasures,
+            Work and rest,
+    Jewelled joys of dear existence,
+    Triumph over Fate's resistance,
+    But to prove, through Time's wide distance,
+            Love is best.
+
+
+
+
+Prayer.
+
+    I stood upon a hill, and watched the death
+      Of the day's turmoil. Still the glory spread
+      Cloud-top to cloud-top, and each rearing head
+    Trembled to crimson. So a mighty breath
+      From some wild Titan in a rising ire
+      Might kindle flame in voicing his desire.
+
+    Soft stirred the evening air; the pine-crowned hills
+      Glowed in an answering rapture where the flush
+      Grew to a blood-drop, and the vesper hush
+    Moved in my soul, while from my life all ills
+      Faded and passed away. God's voice was there
+      And in my heart the silence was a prayer.
+
+    There was a day when to my fearfulness
+      Was born a joy, when doubt was swept afar
+      A shadow and a memory, and a star
+    Gleamed in my sky more bright for the distress.
+      The stillness breathed thanksgiving, and the air
+      Wafted, methought, the incense of a prayer.
+
+    Heaven sets no bounds of bead-roll or appeal;
+      And when the fiery heart with mute embrace
+      Bends, tremblingly, but for a moment's space
+    It needs no words that cry, no limbs that kneel.
+      As meteors flash, so, in a moment's light,
+      Life, darting forth, touches the Infinite.
+
+    All my prayers wordless? Nay, I can recall
+      A night not so long past but that each thought
+      Lives at this hour, and throbs again unsought
+    When Silence broods, and Night's chill shadows fall;
+      Then Darkness' thousand pulses thrilled and stirred
+      With the dear grace of a remembered word;
+
+    And I was still, thy voice enshrouding me.
+      Like the strong sweep of ocean-breath the power
+      Of one resistless thought transformed my hour
+    Of love-dreams to a fear. All hopelessly
+      I knew love's impotence, and my despair
+      Stretched soul-hands forth, and quivered to a prayer.
+
+    My passionate heart cried out: "If his dear life
+      Through stress of keen temptation merits aught
+      Of penance or requital, be it wrought
+    Upon _my_ life. If only through the strife
+      Is won the peace, through drudgery the gain,
+      Give him the issue, and to me the pain!"
+
+    Some day, in our soul's course o'er trackless lands,
+      Swayed oft by adverse winds, or swept along
+      In Fate's wild current with the fluttering throng
+    Towards Sin's engulfing maelstrom, spirit hands
+      Will brace our trembling wings, and through the night
+      Point and upbear in our last trembling flight.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Red gleams the mountain ridge,
+      Slow the stream creeps
+    Under the old bent bridge,
+      And labor sleeps.
+
+    There are no restless birds,
+      No leaves that stir,
+    Dusk her gray mantle girds,
+      Night's harbinger.
+
+    The storm-soul's change and start
+      Pause, lull, and cease;
+    In my unquiet heart
+      Is born a peace.
+
+
+
+
+Loneliness.
+
+    Dear, I am lonely, for the bay is still
+      As any hill-girt lake; the long brown beach
+      Lies bare and wet. As far as eye can reach
+    There is no motion. Even on the hill
+      Where the breeze loves to wander I can see
+      No stir of leaves, nor any waving tree.
+
+    There is a great red cliff that fronts my view
+      A bare, unsightly thing; it angers me
+      With its unswerving-grim monotony.
+    The mackerel weir, with branching boughs askew
+      Stands like a fire-swept forest, while the sea
+      Laps it, with soothing sighs, continually.
+
+    There are no tempests in this sheltered bay,
+      The stillness frets me, and I long to be
+      Where winds sweep strong and blow tempestuously,
+    To stand upon some hill-top far away
+      And face a gathering gale, and let the stress
+      Of Nature's mood subdue my restlessness.
+
+    An impulse seizes me, a mad desire
+      To tear away that red-browed cliff, to sweep
+      Its crest of trees and huts into the deep;
+    To force a gap by axe, or storm, or fire,
+      And let rush in with motion glad and free
+      The rolling waves of the wild wondrous sea.
+
+    Sometimes I wonder if I am the child
+      Of calm, law-loving parents, or a stray
+      From some wild gypsy camp. I cannot stay
+    Quiet among my fellows; when this wild
+      Longing for freedom takes me I must fly
+      To my dear woods and know my liberty.
+
+    It is this cringing to a social law
+      That I despise, these changing, senseless forms
+      Of fashion! And until a thousand storms
+    Of God's impatience shall reveal the flaw
+      In man's pet system, he will weave the spell
+      About his heart and dream that all is well.
+
+    Ah! Life is hard, Dear Heart, for I am left
+      To battle with my old-time fears alone
+      I must live calmly on, and make no moan
+    Though of my hoped-for happiness bereft.
+      Thou wilt not come, and still the red cliff lies
+      Hiding my ocean from these longing eyes.
+
+
+
+
+Sea-Song.
+
+    It sings to me, it sings to me,
+    The shore-blown voice of the blithesome sea!
+      Of its world of gladness all untold,
+      Of its heart of green, and its mines of gold,
+    And desires that leap and flee.
+
+    It moans to me, it moans to me!
+    The storm-stirred voice of the restive sea!
+      Of the vain dismay and the yearning pain
+      For hopes that will never be born again
+    From the womb of the wavering sea.
+
+    It calls to me, it calls to me,
+    The luring voice of the rebel sea!
+      And I long with a love that is born of tears
+      For the wild fresh life, and the glorying fears,
+    For the quest and the mystery.
+
+    It wails to me, it wails to me,
+    Of the deep dark graves in the yawning sea;
+      And I hear the voice of a boy that is gone.
+      But the lad sleeps sound till the judgment-dawn
+    In the heart of the wind-swept sea.
+
+
+
+
+Incompleteness.
+
+    Since first I met thee, Dear, and long before
+      I knew myself beloved, save by the sense
+      All women have, a shadowy confidence
+    Half-fear, that _feels_ its bliss nor asks for more,
+      I have learned new desires, known Love's distress
+      Sounded the deepest depths of loneliness.
+
+    I was a child at heart, and lived alone,
+      Dreaming my dreams, as children may, at whiles,
+      Between their hours of play, and Earth's broad smiles
+    Allured my heart, and ocean's marvellous tone
+      Woke no strange echoes, and the woods' complain
+      Made chants sonorous, stirred no thoughts of pain.
+
+    And if, sometimes, dear Nature spoke to me
+      In tones mysterious, I had learned so much
+      Dwelling beside her daily, that her touch
+    Made me discerning. Though I might not see
+      Her purpose nor her meaning, I had part
+      In the proud throbbing of that mighty heart.
+
+    But now the earth has put a tiring-cloth
+      About her face; even in the mountains' cheer
+      There is a lack, and in the sea a fear,
+    The glad, rash sea, whose every mood, if wroth
+      Or soothing mild, is dear to me as are
+      Joy's new-born kisses on the lips of Care.
+
+    Since I have known thee, Dear, all life has grown
+      An expectation. As the swelling grain
+      Trembles to harvesting, and earth in pain
+    Travails till Spring is born, so felt alone
+      Is the dumb reaching out of things unborn,
+      The night's gray promise of the amber morn.
+
+    I long to taste my pleasures through thy lips,
+      To sail with thee o'er foaming waves and feel
+      Our spirits rise together with the reel
+    Of waters and the wavering land's eclipse;
+      To see thy fair hair damp with salt sea-spray
+      And in thine eyes the wildness of the way.
+
+    I long to share my woods with thee, to fly
+      To some black-hearted forest where the trail
+      Of mortals lingers not,--to hear the gale.
+    Sweep round us with a shuddering ecstasy,
+      To feel, night's tumult passed, the cool soft hand
+      Of the untroubled dawn move o'er the land.
+
+    To swim with thee far out into the bay,
+      A trembling glitter on the waves, the shore
+      Glowing with noontide fervor, nevermore
+    To fear the treacherous depths, though long the way.
+      Sweet beyond words the sighs that breathe and blow,
+      The moist salt kisses, and the glad warm glow.
+
+    And when the unrest, the vague desires that rush
+      Over our lives and may not be denied,--
+      Gone in the tasting,--lure us where the tide
+    Of men sweeps on, let us forget the hush
+      Together, and in city madness drain
+      Our cup of pleasure to its dregs of pain.
+
+    Ever I need thee. Incomplete and poor
+      This life of mine. Yet never dream my soul
+      Craves the old peace. Till I may have the whole
+    My joy is my abiding, and what more
+      Of dreams and waking bliss the Fates allow
+      Comes as a gift of Love's great overflow.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Deep in the green bracken lying,
+      Close by the welcoming sea,
+    Dream I, and let all my dreaming
+      Drift as it will, Love, to thee.
+
+    Sated with splendid caresses
+      Showered by the sun in his pride,
+    Scorched by his passionate kisses
+      Languidly ebbs the tide.
+
+
+
+
+Life's Joys.
+
+    I have been pondering what our teachers call
+      The mystery of Pain; and lo! my thought
+      After it's half-blind reaching out has caught
+    This truth and held it fast. We may not fall
+      Beyond our mounting; stung by life's annoy,
+      Deeper we feel the mystery of Joy.
+
+    Sometimes they steal across us like a breath
+      Of Eastern perfume in a darkened room,
+      These joys of ours; we grope on through the gloom
+    Seeking some common thing, and from its sheath
+      Unloose, unknowing, some bewildering scent
+      Of spice-thronged memories of the Orient.
+
+    Sometimes they dart across our turbid sky
+      Like a quick flash after a heated day.
+      A moment, where the sombrous shadows lay
+    We see a glory. Though it passed us by
+      No earthly power can filch that dazzling glow
+      From memory's eye, that instant's shine and show.
+
+    Life is so full of joys. The alluring sea,
+      This morning clear and placid, may, ere night,
+      Toss like a petulant child, and when the light
+    Of a new morning dawns sweep grand and free
+      A mighty power. If fierce, or mild, or bright,
+      With every tide flows in a fresh delight.
+
+    I can remember well when first I knew
+      The fragrance of white clover. There I lay
+      On the warm July grass and heard the play
+    Of sun-browned insects, and the breezes blew
+      To my drowsed sense the scent the blossoms had;
+      The subtle sweetness stayed, and I was glad.
+
+    Nor passed the gladness. Though the years have gone
+      (A many years, Beloved, since that day,)
+      Whenever by the roadside or away
+    In radiant summer fields, wandering alone
+      Or with glad children, to my restless sight
+      Shows that pale head, comes back the old delight.
+
+    Oh! the dark water, and the filling sail!
+      The scudding like a sea-mew, with the hand
+      Firm on the tiller! See, the red-shored land
+    Receding, as we brave the hastening gale!
+      White gleam the wave-tops, and the breakers' roar
+      Sounds thunderingly on the far distant shore.
+
+    This mad hair flying in the breeze blows wild
+      Across my face. See, there, the gathering squall,
+      That dark line to the eastward, watch it crawl
+    Stealthily towards us o'er the snow-wreaths piled
+      Close on each other! Ah! what joy to be
+      Drunk with salt air, in battle with the sea!
+
+    So many joys, and yet I have but told
+      Of simple things, the joys of air and sea!
+      Not all these things are worth one hour with thee,
+    One moment, when thy daring arms enfold
+      My body, and all other, meaner joys,
+      Fade from me like a child's forgotten toys.
+
+    One thought is ever with me, glorying all
+      Life's common aims. Surely will dawn a day
+      Bright with an unknown rapture, when thy way
+    Will be _my_ journey-road, and I can call
+      These joys _our_ joys, for thou wilt walk with me
+      Down budding pathways to the abounding sea.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Low laughed the Columbine,
+    Trembled her petals fine
+      As the breeze blew;
+    In her dove-heart there stirred
+    Murmurs the dull bee heard,
+    And Love, Life's wild white bird,
+      Straightway she knew.
+
+    Resting her lilac cheek
+    Gently, in aspect meek,
+      On the gray stone,
+    The morning-glory, free,
+    Welcomed the yellow bee,
+    Heard the near-rolling sea
+      Murmur and moan.
+
+    Calm lay the tawny sand
+    Stretching a long wet hand
+      To the far wave.
+    Swift to her warm waiting breast
+    Longing to be possessed
+    Leaps 'neath his billowy crest
+      Her Lover brave.
+
+
+
+
+Barter
+
+    There is a long thin line of fading gold
+      In the far West, and the transfigured leaves
+      On some slight, topmost bough that sways and heaves
+    Hang limp and tremulous. Nor warm, nor cold
+      The pungent air, and, 'neath the yellow haze,
+      Show flushed and glad the wild, October ways.
+
+    There is a soft enchantment in the air,
+      A mystery the Summer knows not, nor
+      The sturdy, frost-crowned Winter. Nature wore
+    Her blandest smile to-day, as here and there
+      I wandered, elf-beset, through wood and field
+      And gleaned the glories of the autumn yield.
+
+    A bunch of purple aster, golden-rod
+      Darkened by the first frost, a drooping spray
+      Of scarlet barberry, and tall and gray
+    The silk-cored cotton with its bursting pod,
+      Some tarnished maple-boughs, and, like a flash
+      Of sudden flame, a branch of mountain ash.
+
+    She smiled, but it was not the welcoming smile
+      Of frank surrender. As a witching maid
+      In gorgeous garments cunningly arrayed
+    Might smile and draw them closer, hers the guile
+      To let men hope, pray, labor in love's stress
+      Ere they her hidden beauties may possess.
+
+    Deep in the heart of earth where the springs rise,
+      Down with the sweet linnaea and the moss,
+      In the brown thrush's throat, where the pines toss
+    In Winter's harrying storms her secret lies.
+      Ours the chill night-dews and the waiting pain
+      Ere we her fairy wealth may hope to gain.
+
+    'Tis so with knowledge. Eagerly we turn
+      Great Wisdom's page, and when our clear eyes grow
+      Dim in the dusk of years, and heads bend low
+    Weary at last, the truth we strove to learn
+      Is ours forever. But its joy of sight
+      Is dearly bought, methinks, with Youth's delight.
+
+    Fate, too, with chaffering voice and beckoning hand
+      Doles out our happiness; we snatch at wealth
+      And pay with anxious care and fading health.
+    We call for Love, and dream that we shall stand
+      On ground enchanted, but, though sweet the way,
+      The rocks are sharp, and grief comes with the Day.
+
+    Even in love, Dear Heart, there is exchange
+      Of gifts and griefs, and so I render thee
+      Vows for thy vows, and pay unfalteringly
+    What love demands, nor ever deem it strange.
+      And when the snow drifts fast, and north-winds sting
+      I make no murmur, but await the Spring.
+
+
+
+
+Song.
+
+    Joy came in youth as a humming-bird,
+      (Sing hey! for the honey and bloom of life!)
+    And it made a home in my summer bower
+    With the honeysuckle and the sweet-pea flower.
+      (Sing hey! for the blossoms and sweets of life!)
+
+    Joy came as a lark when the years had gone,
+      (Ah! hush, hush still, for the dream is short!)
+    And I gazed far up to the melting blue
+    Where the rare song dropped like a golden dew.
+      (Ah! sweet is the song tho' the dream be short!)
+
+    Joy hovers now in a far-off mist,
+      (The night draws on and the air breathes snow!)
+    And I reach, sometimes, with a trembling hand
+    To the red-tipped cloud of the joy-bird's land.
+      (Alas! for the days of the storm and the snow!)
+
+
+
+
+To-Morrow.
+
+    But one short night between my Love and me!
+      I watch the soft-shod dusk creep wistfully
+      Through the slow-moving curtains, pausing by
+    And shrouding with its spirit-fingers free
+      Each well-known chair. There is a growing grace
+      Of tender magic in this little place.
+
+    Comes through half-opened windows, soft and cool
+      As Spring's young breath, the vagrant evening air,
+      My day-worn soul is hushed. I fain would bear
+    No burdens on my brain to-night, no rule
+      Of anxious thought; the world has had my tears,
+      My thoughts, my hopes, my aims these many years;
+
+    This is Thy hour, and I shall sink to sleep
+      With a glad weariness, to know that when
+      The new day dawns I shall lay by my pen
+    Needed no more. If I, perchance, should weep
+      A few quick tears, so doing, who would guess
+      'Twas the last throb of my soul's loneliness?
+
+    Not even thou, Dear Heart, canst ever know
+      How I have yearned these many months, these years
+      For love, for thee. As the calm boatman steers
+    His slender shallop where he fain would go,
+      Tempests and rocks before, so through the dark
+      To this dim, far-off day has set my bark.
+
+    To-morrow! I can hear the quick-closed door,
+      The approaching steps, my pained heart's fluttering,
+      Thy voice, then Thee! And all the storm and sting
+    Of bygone griefs are passed forevermore,
+      Swept from my life as the resistless wind
+      Scatters the chaff, nor leaves a mote behind.
+
+    As long-imprisoned captives reach the light,
+      And gaze with greedy eyes on field and tree,
+      Drinking the beauties of the sky and sea
+    Half fearful of their bliss; so from the night
+      Of dreams and shades, half doubting, we awake
+      And grasp the joy we almost fear to take.
+
+    Thou hidest in thy warm ones my cold hand,
+      Reading my soul in these unwavering eyes.
+      Nay, thou hast known my hopes, my agonies
+    Through written words, and thou canst understand.
+      I have kept nothing back of all the streams
+      Of my heart-flowings--doubts, nor fears, nor dreams.
+
+    So long my life has followed no control
+      But mine own impulse; now, I pray thee, bend
+      My will to thine, and so, unhindered, tend
+    My soul's wild garden. I have laid the whole
+      Bare to thy sowing; and life's precious wine
+      Is of thy pouring, and thy way is mine.
+
+
+
+
+Song
+
+    Where is the waiting-time?
+      Where are the fears?
+    Gone with the winter's rime,
+      The bygone years.
+
+    O'er life's plain, lone and vast,
+      Slow treads the morn,
+    Night shades have moved and passed,
+      Joy's day is born.
+
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's A Woman's Love Letters, by Sophie M. Almon-Hensley
+
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