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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Maurine and Other Poems, by Ella Wheeler
+Wilcox
+
+
+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: Maurine and Other Poems
+
+
+Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+
+
+
+Release Date: August 16, 2008  [eBook #26333]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAURINE AND OTHER POEMS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Christina, Joseph Cooper, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+MAURINE AND OTHER POEMS
+
+by
+
+ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+W. B. Conkey Company
+Chicago
+
+Copyright, 1888
+by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+
+
+
+
+_I step across the mystic border-land,_
+_And look upon the wonder-world of Art._
+_How beautiful, how beautiful its hills!_
+_And all its valleys, how surpassing fair!_
+
+_The winding paths that lead up to the heights_
+_Are polished by the footsteps of the great._
+_The mountain-peaks stand very near to God:_
+_The chosen few whose feet have trod thereon_
+_Have talked with Him, and with the angels walked._
+
+_Here are no sounds of discord--no profane_
+_Or senseless gossip of unworthy things--_
+_Only the songs of chisels and of pens._
+_Of busy brushes, and ecstatic strains_
+_Of souls surcharged with music most divine._
+_Here is no idle sorrow, no poor grief_
+_For any day or object left behind--_
+_For time is counted precious, and herein_
+_Is such complete abandonment of Self_
+_That tears turn into rainbows, and enhance_
+_The beauty of the land where all is fair._
+
+_Awed and afraid, I cross the border-land._
+_Oh, who am I, that I dare enter here_
+_Where the great artists of the world have trod--_
+_The genius-crowned aristocrats of Earth?_
+_Only the singer of a little song;_
+_Yet loving Art with such a mighty love_
+_I hold it greater to have won a place_
+_Just on the fair land's edge, to make my grave,_
+_Than in the outer world of greed and gain_
+_To sit upon a royal throne and reign._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  Maurine                             9
+  Two Sunsets                       122
+  Unrest                            124
+  "Artist's Life"                   125
+  Nothing but Stones                126
+  The Coquette                      128
+  Inevitable                        129
+  The Ocean of Song                 130
+  "It Might Have Been"              132
+  If                                132
+  Gethsemane                        134
+  Dust-Sealed                       135
+  "Advice"                          136
+  Over the Banisters                137
+  Momus, God of Laughter            138
+  I Dream                           140
+  The Past                          141
+  The Sonnet                        142
+  Secrets                           142
+  A Dream                           143
+  Uselessness                       143
+  Will                              144
+  Winter Rain                       145
+  Applause                          145
+  Life                              146
+  Burdened                          146
+  The Story                         147
+  Let Them Go                       148
+  The Engine                        149
+  Nothing New                       151
+  Dreams                            152
+  Helena                            153
+  Nothing Remains                   155
+  Lean Down                         156
+  Comrades                          157
+  What Gain?                        158
+  Life                              159
+  To the West                       160
+  The Land of Content               161
+  A Song of Life                    163
+  Warning                           164
+  The Christian's New Year Prayer   164
+  In the Night                      166
+  God's Measure                     167
+  A March Snow                      167
+  After the Battles are Over        168
+  Noblesse Oblige                   174
+  And They Are Dumb                 175
+  Night                             177
+  All for Me                        178
+  Philosophy                        179
+  "Carlos"                          180
+  The Two Glasses                   182
+  Through Tears                     184
+  Into Space                        185
+  Through Dim Eyes                  187
+  La Mort d'Amour                   188
+  The Punished                      189
+  Half Fledged                      190
+  Love's Sleep                      191
+  True Culture                      192
+  The Voluptuary                    193
+  The Year                          194
+  The Unattained                    195
+  In the Crowd                      196
+  Life and I                        198
+  Guerdon                           199
+  Snowed Under                      200
+  Platonic                          201
+  What We Need                      203
+  "Leudemann's-on-the-River"        204
+  In the Long Run                   206
+  Plea to Science                   207
+  Love's Burial                     208
+  Little Blue Hood                  209
+  No Spring                         211
+  Lippo                             212
+  Midsummer                         213
+  A Reminiscence                    214
+  Respite                           216
+  A Girl's Faith                    217
+  Two                               218
+  Slipping Away                     219
+  Is it Done?                       220
+  A Leaf                            221
+  Ęsthetic                          222
+  Poems of the Week                 224
+  Ghosts                            226
+  Fleeing Away                      227
+  All Mad                           228
+  Hidden Gems                       229
+  By-and-By                         230
+  Over the May Hill                 231
+  A Song                            232
+  Foes                              234
+  Friendship                        235
+
+
+
+
+MAURINE
+
+
+_PART I._
+
+I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,
+Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!
+Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:
+The climbing rose-tree grew about me there,
+And checked with shade the sunny portico
+Where, morns like this, I came to read, or sew.
+
+I heard the gate click, and a firm quick tread
+Upon the walk. No need to turn my head;
+I would mistake, and doubt my own voice sounding,
+Before his step upon the gravel bounding.
+In an unstudied attitude of grace,
+He stretched his comely form; and from his face
+He tossed the dark, damp curls; and at my knees,
+With his broad hat he fanned the lazy breeze,
+And turned his head, and lifted his large eyes,
+Of that strange hue we see in ocean dyes,
+And call it blue sometimes, and sometimes green
+And save in poet eyes, not elsewhere seen.
+
+"Lest I should meet with my fair lady's scorning,
+For calling quite so early in the morning,
+I've brought a passport that can never fail,"
+He said, and, laughing, laid the morning mail
+Upon my lap. "I'm welcome? so I thought!
+I'll figure by the letters that I brought
+How glad you are to see me. Only one?
+And that one from a lady? I'm undone!
+That, lightly skimmed, you'll think me _such_ a bore,
+And wonder why I did not bring you four.
+It's ever thus: a woman cannot get
+So many letters that she will not fret
+O'er one that did not come."
+                         "I'll prove you wrong,"
+I answered gayly, "here upon the spot!
+This little letter, precious if not long,
+Is just the one, of all you might have brought,
+To please me. You have heard me speak, I'm sure,
+Of Helen Trevor: she writes here to say
+She's coming out to see me; and will stay
+Till Autumn, maybe. She is, like her note,
+Petite and dainty, tender, loving, pure.
+You'd know her by a letter that she wrote,
+For a sweet tinted thing. 'Tis always so:--
+Letters all blots, though finely written, show
+A slovenly person. Letters stiff and white
+Bespeak a nature honest, plain, upright.
+And tissuey, tinted, perfumed notes, like this,
+Tell of a creature formed to pet and kiss."
+
+My listener heard me with a slow, odd smile;
+Stretched in abandon at my feet, the while,
+He fanned me idly with his broad-brimmed hat.
+"Then all young ladies must be formed for that!"
+He laughed, and said.
+                         "Their letters read, and look,
+As like as twenty copies of one book.
+They're written in a dainty, spider scrawl,
+To 'darling, precious Kate,' or 'Fan,' or 'Moll.'
+The 'dearest, sweetest' friend they ever had.
+They say they 'want to see you, oh, so bad!'
+Vow they'll 'forget you, never, _never_, oh!'
+And then they tell about a splendid beau--
+A lovely hat--a charming dress, and send
+A little scrap of this to every friend.
+And then to close, for lack of something better,
+They beg you'll 'read and burn this horrid letter.'"
+
+He watched me, smiling. He was prone to vex
+And hector me with flings upon my sex.
+He liked, he said, to have me flash and frown,
+So he could tease me, and then laugh me down.
+My storms of wrath amused him very much:
+He liked to see me go off at a touch;
+Anger became me--made my color rise,
+And gave an added luster to my eyes.
+So he would talk--and so he watched me now,
+To see the hot flush mantle cheek and brow.
+
+Instead, I answered coolly, with a smile,
+Felling a seam with utmost care, meanwhile.
+"The caustic tongue of Vivian Dangerfield
+Is barbed as ever, for my sex, this morn.
+Still unconvinced, no smallest point I yield.
+Woman I love, and trust, despite your scorn.
+There is some truth in what you say? Well, yes!
+Your statements usually hold more or less.
+Some women write weak letters--(some men do;)
+Some make professions, knowing them untrue.
+And woman's friendship, in the time of need,
+I own, too often proves a broken reed.
+But I believe, and ever will contend,
+Woman can be a sister woman's friend,
+Giving from out her large heart's bounteous store
+A living love--claiming to do no more
+Than, through and by that love, she knows she can;
+And living by her professions, _like a man_.
+And such a tie, true friendship's silken tether,
+Binds Helen Trevor's heart and mine together.
+I love her for her beauty, meekness, grace;
+For her white lily soul and angel face.
+She loves me, for my greater strength, may be;
+Loves--and would give her heart's best blood for me
+And I, to save her from a pain, or cross,
+Would suffer any sacrifice or loss.
+Such can be woman's friendship for another.
+Could man give more, or ask more from a brother?"
+
+I paused: and Vivian leaned his massive head
+Against the pillar of the portico,
+Smiled his slow, skeptic smile, then laughed, and said:
+"Nay, surely not--if what you say be so.
+You've made a statement, but no proof's at hand.
+Wait--do not flash your eyes so! Understand
+I think you quite sincere in what you say:
+You love your friend, and she loves you, to-day;
+But friendship is not friendship at the best
+Till circumstances put it to the test.
+Man's, less demonstrative, stands strain and tear,
+While woman's, half profession, fails to wear.
+Two women love each other passing well--
+Say Helen Trevor and Maurine La Pelle,
+Just for example.
+                         Let them daily meet
+At ball and concert, in the church and street,
+They kiss and coo, they visit, chat, caress;
+Their love increases, rather than grows less;
+And all goes well, till 'Helen dear' discovers
+That 'Maurine darling' wins too many lovers.
+
+And then her 'precious friend,' her 'pet,' her 'sweet,'
+Becomes a 'minx,' a 'creature all deceit.'
+Let Helen smile too oft on Maurine's beaux,
+Or wear more stylish or becoming clothes,
+Or sport a hat that has a longer feather--
+And lo! the strain has broken 'friendship's tether.'
+Maurine's sweet smile becomes a frown or pout;
+'She's just begun to find that Helen out'
+The breach grows wider--anger fills each heart;
+They drift asunder, whom 'but death could part.'
+You shake your head? Oh, well, we'll never know!
+It is not likely Fate will test you so.
+You'll live, and love; and, meeting twice a year,
+While life shall last, you'll hold each other dear.
+I pray it may be so; it were not best
+To shake your faith in woman by the test.
+Keep your belief, and nurse it while you can.
+I've faith in woman's friendship too--for man!
+They're true as steel, as mothers, friends, and wives:
+And that's enough to bless us all our lives.
+That man's a selfish fellow, and a bore,
+Who is unsatisfied, and asks for more."
+
+"But there is need of more!" I here broke in.
+"I hold that woman guilty of a sin,
+Who would not cling to, and defend another,
+As nobly as she would stand by a brother.
+Who would not suffer for a sister's sake,
+And, were there need to prove her friendship, make
+'Most any sacrifice, nor count the cost.
+Who would not do this for a friend is lost
+To every nobler principle."
+                         "Shame, shame!"
+Cried Vivian, laughing, "for you now defame
+The whole sweet sex; since there's not one would do
+The thing you name, nor would I want her to.
+I love the sex. My mother was a woman--
+I hope my wife will be, and wholly human.
+And if she wants to make some sacrifice,
+I'll think her far more sensible and wise
+To let her husband reap the benefit,
+Instead of some old maid or senseless chit.
+Selfish? Of course! I hold all love is so:
+And I shall love my wife right well, I know.
+Now there's a point regarding selfish love,
+You thirst to argue with me, and disprove.
+But since these cosy hours will soon be gone
+And all our meetings broken in upon,
+No more of these rare moments must be spent
+In vain discussions, or in argument.
+I wish Miss Trevor was in--Jericho!
+(You see the selfishness begins to show.)
+She wants to see you?--So do I: but she
+Will gain her wish, by taking you from me.
+'Come all the same?' that means I'll be allowed
+To realize that 'three can make a crowd.'
+I do not like to feel myself _de trop_.
+With two girl cronies would I not be so?
+My ring would interrupt some private chat.
+You'd ask me in and take my cane and hat,
+And speak about the lovely summer day,
+And think--'The lout! I wish he'd kept away.'
+Miss Trevor'd smile, but just to hide a pout
+And count the moments till I was shown out.
+And, while I twirled my thumbs, I would sit wishing
+That I had gone off hunting birds, or fishing.
+No, thanks, Maurine! The iron hand of Fate,
+(Or otherwise Miss Trevor's dainty fingers,)
+Will bar my entrance into Eden's gate;
+And I shall be like some poor soul that lingers
+At heaven's portal, paying the price of sin,
+Yet hoping to be pardoned and let in."
+
+He looked so melancholy sitting there,
+I laughed outright. "How well you act a part;
+You look the very picture of despair!
+You've missed your calling, sir! suppose you start
+Upon a starring tour, and carve your name
+With Booth's and Barrett's on the heights of Fame.
+But now, tabooing nonsense, I shall send
+For you to help me entertain my friend,
+Unless you come without it. 'Cronies?' True,
+Wanting our 'private chats' as cronies do
+And we'll take those, while you are reading Greek,
+Or writing 'Lines to Dora's brow' or 'cheek.'
+But when you have an hour or two of leisure,
+Call as you now do, and afford like pleasure.
+For never yet did heaven's sun shine on,
+Or stars discover, that phenomenon,
+In any country, or in any clime:
+Two maids so bound, by ties of mind and heart.
+They did not feel the heavy weight of time
+In weeks of scenes wherein no man took part.
+God made the sexes to associate:
+Nor law of man, nor stern decree of Fate,
+Can ever undo what His hand has done,
+And, quite alone, make happy either one.
+My Helen is an only child:--a pet
+Of loving parents: and she never yet
+Has been denied one boon for which she pleaded.
+A fragile thing, her lightest wish was heeded.
+Would she pluck roses? they must first be shorn,
+By careful hands, of every hateful thorn.
+And loving eyes must scan the pathway where
+Her feet may tread, to see no stones are there.
+She'll grow dull here, in this secluded nook,
+Unless you aid me in the pleasant task
+Of entertaining. Drop in with your book--
+Read, talk, sing for her sometimes. What I ask,
+Do once, to please me: then there'll be no need
+For me to state the case again, or plead.
+There's nothing like a woman's grace and beauty
+To waken mankind to a sense of duty."
+
+"I bow before the mandate of my queen:
+Your slightest wish is law, Ma Belle Maurine,"
+He answered smiling, "I'm at your command;
+Point but one lily finger, or your wand,
+And you will find a willing slave obeying.
+There goes my dinner bell! I hear it saying
+I've spent two hours here, lying at your feet,
+Not profitable, maybe--surely sweet.
+All time is money; now were I to measure
+The time I spend here by its solid pleasure,
+And that were coined in dollars, then I've laid
+Each day a fortune at your feet, fair maid.
+There goes that bell again! I'll say good-bye,
+Or clouds will shadow my domestic sky.
+I'll come again, as you would have me do,
+And see your friend, while she is seeing you.
+That's like by proxy being at a feast;
+Unsatisfactory, to say the least."
+
+He drew his fine shape up, and trod the land
+With kingly grace. Passing the gate, his hand
+He lightly placed the garden wall upon,
+Leaped over like a leopard, and was gone.
+
+And, going, took the brightness from the place,
+Yet left the June day with a sweeter grace,
+And my young soul so steeped in happy dreams,
+Heaven itself seemed shown to me in gleams.
+There is a time with lovers, when the heart
+First slowly rouses from its dreamless sleep,
+To all the tumult of a passion life,
+Ere yet have wakened jealousy and strife.
+Just as a young, untutored child will start
+Out of a long hour's slumber, sound and deep,
+And lie and smile with rosy lips, and cheeks,
+In a sweet, restful trance, before it speaks.
+A time when yet no word the spell has broken,
+Save what the heart unto the soul has spoken,
+In quickened throbs, and sighs but half suppressed.
+A time when that sweet truth, all unconfessed,
+Gives added fragrance to the summer flowers,
+A golden glory to the passing hours,
+A hopeful beauty to the plainest face,
+And lends to life a new and tender grace.
+
+When the full heart has climbed the heights of bliss,
+And, smiling, looks back o'er the golden past,
+I think it finds no sweeter hour than this
+In all love-life. For, later, when the last
+Translucent drop o'erflows the cup of joy,
+And love, more mighty than the heart's control,
+Surges in words of passion from the soul,
+And vows are asked and given, shadows rise
+Like mists before the sun in noonday skies,
+Vague fears, that prove the brimming cup's alloy;
+A dread of change--the crowning moment's curse,
+Since what is perfect, change but renders worse:
+A vain desire to cripple Time, who goes
+Bearing our joys away, and bringing woes.
+And later, doubts and jealousies awaken.
+And plighted hearts are tempest-tossed, and shaken.
+Doubt sends a test, that goes a step too far,
+A wound is made, that, healing, leaves a scar,
+Or one heart, full with love's sweet satisfaction,
+Thinks truth once spoken always understood,
+While one is pining for the tender action
+And whispered word by which, of old, 'twas wooed.
+
+But this blest hour, in love's glad, golden day,
+Is like the dawning, ere the radiant ray
+Of glowing Sol has burst upon the eye,
+But yet is heralded in earth and sky,
+Warm with its fervor, mellow with its light,
+While Care still slumbers in the arms of night.
+But Hope, awake, hears happy birdlings sing,
+And thinks of all a summer day may bring.
+
+In this sweet calm, my young heart lay at rest,
+Filled with a blissful sense of peace; nor guessed
+That sullen clouds were gathering in the skies
+To hide the glorious sun, ere it should rise.
+
+
+_PART II._
+
+To little birds that never tire of humming
+About the garden, in the summer weather,
+Aunt Ruth compared us, after Helen's coming,
+As we two roamed, or sat and talked together.
+Twelve months apart, we had so much to say
+Of school days gone--and time since passed away;
+Of that old friend, and this; of what we'd done;
+Of how our separate paths in life had run;
+Of what we would do, in the coming years;
+Of plans and castles, hopes and dreams and fears.
+All these, and more, as soon as we found speech,
+We touched upon, and skimmed from this to that
+But at the first, each only gazed on each,
+And, dumb with joy, that did not need a voice
+Like lesser joys, to say, "Lo! I rejoice,"
+With smiling eyes and clasping hands we sat
+Wrapped in that peace, felt but with those dear,
+Contented just to know each other near.
+But when this silent eloquence gave place
+To words, 'twas like the rising of a flood
+Above a dam. We sat there, face to face,
+And let our talk glide on where'er it would,
+Speech never halting in its speed or zest,
+Save when our rippling laughter let it rest;
+Just as a stream will sometimes pause and play
+About a bubbling spring, then dash away.
+No wonder, then, the third day's sun was nigh
+Up to the zenith when my friend and I
+Opened our eyes from slumber long and deep:
+Nature demanding recompense for hours
+Spent in the portico, among the flowers,
+Halves of two nights we should have spent in sleep.
+
+So this third day, we breakfasted at one:
+Then walked about the garden in the sun,
+Hearing the thrushes and the robins sing,
+And looking to see what buds were opening.
+
+The clock chimed three, and we yet strayed at will
+About the yard in morning dishabille,
+When Aunt Ruth came, with apron o'er her head,
+Holding a letter in her hand, and said,
+"Here is a note, from Vivian I opine;
+At least his servant brought it. And now, girls,
+You may think this is no concern of mine,
+But in my day young ladies did not go,
+Till almost bed-time roaming to and fro
+In morning wrappers, and with tangled curls,
+The very pictures of forlorn distress.
+'Tis three o'clock, and time for you to dress.
+Come! read your note and hurry in, Maurine,
+And make yourself fit object to be seen."
+
+Helen was bending o'er an almond bush,
+And ere she looked up I had read the note,
+And calmed my heart, that, bounding, sent a flush
+To brow and cheek, at sight of aught _he_ wrote.
+"Ma Belle Maurine:" (so Vivian's billet ran,)
+"Is it not time I saw your cherished guest?
+'Pity the sorrows of a poor young man,'
+Banished from all that makes existence blest.
+I'm dying to see--your friend; and I will come
+And pay respects, hoping you'll be at home
+To-night at eight. Expectantly, V. D."
+
+Inside my belt I slipped the billet, saying,
+"Helen, go make yourself most fair to see:
+Quick! hurry now! no time for more delaying!
+In just five hours a caller will be here,
+And you must look your prettiest, my dear!
+Begin your toilet right away. I know
+How long it takes you to arrange each bow--
+To twist each curl, and loop your skirts aright.
+And you must prove you are _au fait_ to-night,
+And make a perfect toilet: for our caller
+Is man, and critic, poet, artist, scholar,
+And views with eyes of all."
+                         "Oh, oh! Maurine,"
+Cried Helen with a well-feigned look of fear,
+"You've frightened me so I shall not appear:
+I'll hide away, refusing to be seen
+By such an ogre. Woe is me! bereft
+Of all my friends, my peaceful home I've left,
+And strayed away into the dreadful wood
+To meet the fate of poor Red Riding Hood.
+No, Maurine, no! you've given me such a fright,
+I'll not go near your ugly wolf to-night."
+
+Meantime we'd left the garden; and I stood
+In Helen's room, where she had thrown herself
+Upon a couch, and lay, a winsome elf,
+Pouting and smiling, cheek upon her arm,
+Not in the least a portrait of alarm.
+"Now sweet!" I coaxed, and knelt by her, "be good!
+Go curl your hair; and please your own Maurine,
+By putting on that lovely grenadine.
+Not wolf, nor ogre, neither Caliban,
+Nor Mephistopheles, you'll meet to-night,
+But what the ladies call 'a nice young man'!
+Yet one worth knowing--strong with health and might
+Of perfect manhood; gifted, noble, wise;
+Moving among his kind with loving eyes,
+And helpful hand; progressive, brave, refined,
+After the image of his Maker's mind."
+
+"Now, now, Maurine!" cried Helen, "I believe
+It is your lover coming here this eve.
+Why have you never written of him, pray?
+Is the day set?--and when? Say, Maurine, say!"
+
+Had I betrayed by some too fervent word
+The secret love that all my being stirred?
+My lover? Ay! My heart proclaimed him so;
+But first _his_ lips must win the sweet confession,
+Ere even Helen be allowed to know.
+I must straightway erase the slight impression
+Made by the words just uttered.
+                         "Foolish child!"
+I gayly cried, "your fancy's straying wild.
+Just let a girl of eighteen hear the name
+Of maid and youth uttered about one time,
+And off her fancy goes, at break-neck pace,
+Defying circumstances, reason, space--
+And straightway builds romances so sublime
+They put all Shakespeare's dramas to the shame.
+This Vivian Dangerfield is neighbor, friend
+And kind companion; bringing books and flowers.
+And, by his thoughtful actions without end,
+Helping me pass some otherwise long hours;
+But he has never breathed a word of love.
+If you still doubt me, listen while I prove
+My statement by the letter that he wrote.
+'Dying to meet--my friend!' (she could not see
+The dash between that meant so much to me.)
+'Will come this eve, at eight, and hopes we may
+Be in to greet him.' Now I think you'll say
+'Tis not much like a lover's tender note."
+
+We laugh, we jest, not meaning what we say;
+We hide our thoughts, by light words lightly spoken,
+And pass on heedless, till we find one day
+They've bruised our hearts, or left some other broken.
+
+I sought my room, and trilling some blithe air,
+Opened my wardrobe, wondering what to wear.
+Momentous question! femininely human!
+More than all others, vexing mind of woman,
+Since that sad day, when in her discontent,
+To search for leaves, our fair first mother went.
+All undecided what I should put on,
+At length I made selection of a lawn--
+White, with a tiny pink vine overrun:--
+My simplest robe, but Vivian's favorite one.
+And placing a single flowret in my hair,
+I crossed the hall to Helen's chamber, where
+I found her with her fair locks all let down,
+Brushing the kinks out, with a pretty frown.
+'T was like a picture, or a pleasing play,
+To watch her make her toilet. She would stand,
+And turn her head first this and then that way,
+Trying effect of ribbon, bow or band.
+Then she would pick up something else, and curve
+Her lovely neck, with cunning, bird-like grace,
+And watch the mirror while she put it on,
+With such a sweetly grave and thoughtful face;
+And then to view it all would sway, and swerve
+Her lithe young body, like a graceful swan.
+
+Helen was over medium height, and slender
+Even to frailty. Her great, wistful eyes
+Were like the deep blue of autumnal skies;
+And through them looked her soul, large, loving, tender.
+Her long, light hair was lusterless, except
+Upon the ends, where burnished sunbeams slept,
+And on the earlocks; and she looped the curls
+Back with a shell comb, studded thick with pearls,
+Costly yet simple. Her pale loveliness,
+That night, was heightened by her rich, black dress,
+That trailed behind her, leaving half in sight
+Her taper arms, and shoulders marble white.
+
+I was not tall as Helen, and my face
+Was shaped and colored like my grandsire's race;
+For through his veins my own received the warm,
+Red blood of southern France, which curved my form,
+And glowed upon my cheek in crimson dyes,
+And bronzed my hair, and darkled in my eyes.
+And as the morning trails the skirts of night,
+And dusky night puts on the garb of morn,
+And walk together when the day is born,
+So we two glided down the hall and stair,
+Arm clasping arm, into the parlor, where
+Sat Vivian, bathed in sunset's gorgeous light.
+He rose to greet us. Oh! his form was grand;
+And he possessed that power, strange, occult,
+Called magnetism, lacking better word,
+Which moves the world, achieving great result
+Where genius fails completely. Touch his hand,
+It thrilled through all your being--meet his eye,
+And you were moved, yet knew not how, or why.
+Let him but rise, you felt the air was stirred
+By an electric current.
+
+                         This strange force
+Is mightier than genius. Rightly used,
+It leads to grand achievements; all things yield
+Before its mystic presence, and its field
+Is broad as earth and heaven. But abused,
+It sweeps like a poison simoon on its course
+Bearing miasma in its scorching breath,
+And leaving all it touches struck with death.
+
+Far-reaching science shall yet tear away
+The mystic garb that hides it from the day,
+And drag it forth and bind it with its laws,
+And make it serve the purposes of men,
+Guided by common sense and reason. Then
+We'll hear no more of seance, table-rapping,
+And all that trash, o'er which the world is gaping,
+Lost in effect, while science seeks the cause.
+
+Vivian was not conscious of his power:
+Or, if he was, knew not its full extent.
+He knew his glance would make a wild beast cower,
+And yet he knew not that his large eyes sent
+Into the heart of woman the same thrill
+That made the lion servant of his will.
+And even strong men felt it.
+
+                         He arose,
+Reached forth his hand, and in it clasped my own,
+While I held Helen's; and he spoke some word
+Of pleasant greeting in his low, round tone,
+Unlike all other voices I have heard.
+Just as the white cloud, at the sunrise, glows
+With roseate colors, so the pallid hue
+Of Helen's cheek, like tinted sea-shells grew.
+Through mine, his hand caused hers to tremble; such
+Was the all-mast'ring magic of his touch.
+
+Then we sat down, and talked about the weather,
+The neighborhood--some author's last new book.
+But, when I could, I left the two together
+To make acquaintance, saying I must look
+After the chickens--my especial care;
+And ran away, and left them, laughing, there.
+
+Knee-deep, through clover, to the poplar grove,
+I waded, where my pets were wont to rove:
+And there I found the foolish mother hen
+Brooding her chickens underneath a tree,
+An easy prey for foxes. "Chick-a-dee,"
+Quoth I, while reaching for the downy things
+That, chirping, peeped from out the mother-wings,
+"How very human is your folly! When
+There waits a haven, pleasant, bright, and warm,
+And one to lead you thither from the storm
+And lurking dangers, yet you turn away.
+And, thinking to be your own protector, stray
+Into the open jaws of death: for, see!
+An owl is sitting in this very tree
+You thought safe shelter. Go now to your pen."
+And, followed by the clucking, clamorous hen,
+So like the human mother here again,
+Moaning because a strong, protecting arm
+Would shield her little ones from cold and harm,
+I carried back my garden hat brimful
+Of chirping chickens, like white balls of wool,
+And snugly housed them.
+                         And just then I heard
+A sound like gentle winds among the trees,
+Or pleasant waters in the Summer, stirred
+And set in motion by a passing breeze.
+'T was Helen singing: and, as I drew near,
+Another voice, a tenor full and clear,
+Mingled with hers, as murmuring streams unite,
+And flow on stronger in their wedded might.
+It was a way of Helen's, not to sing
+The songs that other people sang. She took
+Sometimes an extract from an ancient book;
+Again some floating, fragmentary thing
+And such she fitted to old melodies,
+Or else composed the music. One of these
+She sang that night; and Vivian caught the strain,
+And joined her in the chorus, or refrain,
+
+  SONG.
+
+    O thou, mine other, stronger part!
+      Whom yet I cannot hear, or see,
+    Come thou, and take this loving heart,
+      That longs to yield its all to thee,
+      I call mine own--Oh, come to me!
+      Love, answer back, I come to thee,
+                         I come to thee.
+
+    This hungry heart, so warm, so large,
+      Is far too great a care for me.
+    I have grown weary of the charge
+      I keep so sacredly for thee.
+      Come thou, and take my heart from me.
+      Love, answer back, I come to thee,
+                         I come to thee.
+
+    I am aweary, waiting here
+      For one who tarries long from me.
+    O! art thou far, or art thou near?
+      And must I still be sad for thee?
+      Or wilt thou straightway come to me?
+      Love, answer, I am near to thee,
+                         I come to thee.
+
+The melody, so full of plaintive chords,
+Sobbed into silence--echoing down the strings
+Like voice of one who walks from us, and sings.
+Vivian had leaned upon the instrument
+The while they sang. But, as he spoke those words,
+"Love, I am near to thee, I come to thee,"
+He turned his grand head slowly round, and bent
+His lustrous, soulful, speaking gaze on me.
+And my young heart, eager to own its king,
+Sent to my eyes a great, glad, trustful light
+Of love and faith, and hung upon my cheek
+Hope's rose-hued flag. There was no need to speak.
+I crossed the room, and knelt by Helen. "Sing
+That song you sang a fragment of one night,
+Out on the porch, beginning, 'Praise me not,'"
+I whispered: and her sweet and plaintive tone
+Rose, low and tender, as if she had caught
+From some sad passing breeze, and made her own,
+The echo of the wind-harp's sighing strain,
+Or the soft music of the falling rain.
+
+  SONG.
+
+    O praise me not with your lips, dear one!
+      Though your tender words I prize.
+    But dearer by far is the soulful gaze
+      Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes,
+                         Your tender, loving eyes.
+
+    O chide me not with your lips, dear one!
+      Though I cause your bosom sighs.
+    You can make repentance deeper far
+      By your sad, reproving eyes,
+                         Your sorrowful, troubled eyes.
+
+    Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds;
+      Above, in the beaming skies,
+    The constant stars say never a word,
+      But only smile with their eyes--
+                         Smile on with their lustrous eyes.
+
+    Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one;
+      On the wingčd wind speech flies.
+    But I read the truth of your noble heart
+      In your soulful, speaking eyes--
+                         In your deep and beautiful eyes.
+
+The twilight darkened 'round us, in the room,
+While Helen sang; and, in the gathering gloom,
+Vivian reached out, and took my hand in his,
+And held it so; while Helen made the air
+Languid with music. Then a step drew near,
+And voice of Aunt Ruth broke the spell:
+                         "Dear! dear!
+Why Maurie, Helen, children! how is this?
+I hear you, but you have no light in there.
+Your room is dark as Egypt. What a way
+For folks to visit!--Maurie, go, I pray,
+And order lamps."
+                         And so there came a light,
+And all the sweet dreams hovering around
+The twilight shadows flitted in affright:
+And e'en the music had a harsher sound.
+
+In pleasant converse passed an hour away:
+And Vivian planned a picnic for next day--
+A drive the next, and rambles without end,
+That he might help me entertain my friend.
+And then he rose, bowed low, and passed from sight,
+Like some great star that drops out from the night;
+And Helen watched him through the shadows go,
+And turned and said, her voice subdued and low,
+"How tall he is! in all my life, Maurine,
+A grander man I never yet have seen."
+
+
+_PART III._
+
+One golden twelfth-part of a checkered year;
+One summer month, of sunlight, moonlight, mirth
+With not a hint of shadows lurking near,
+Or storm-clouds brewing.
+
+                         'T was a royal day:
+Voluptuous July held her lover, Earth,
+With her warm arms, upon her glowing breast,
+And twined herself about him, as he lay
+Smiling and panting in his dream-stirred rest.
+She bound him with her limbs of perfect grace,
+And hid him with her trailing robe of green,
+And wound him in her long hair's shimmering sheen,
+And rained her ardent kisses on his face.
+
+Through the glad glory of the summer land
+Helen and I went wandering, hand in hand.
+In winding paths, hard by the ripe wheat-field,
+White with the promise of a bounteous yield,
+Across the late shorn meadow--down the hill,
+Red with the tiger-lily blossoms, till
+We stood upon the borders of the lake,
+That like a pretty, placid infant, slept
+Low at its base: and little ripples crept
+Along its surface, just as dimples chase
+Each other o'er an infant's sleeping face
+
+Helen in idle hours had learned to make
+A thousand pretty, feminine knick-knacks:
+For brackets, ottomans, and toilet stands--
+Labor just suited to her dainty hands.
+That morning she had been at work in wax,
+Molding a wreath of flowers for my room,--
+Taking her patterns from the living blows,
+In all their dewy beauty and sweet bloom,
+Fresh from my garden. Fuchsia, tulip, rose,
+And trailing ivy, grew beneath her touch,
+Resembling the living plants as much
+As life is copied in the form of death:
+These lacking but the perfume, and that, breath.
+
+And now the wreath was all completed, save
+The mermaid blossom of all flowerdom,
+A water-lily, dripping from the wave.
+And 'twas in search of it that we had come
+Down to the lake, and wandered on the beach,
+To see if any lilies grew in reach.
+Some broken stalks, where flowers late had been;
+Some buds, with all their beauties folded in,
+We found, but not the treasure that we sought
+And then we turned our footsteps to the spot
+Where, all impatient of its chain, my boat,
+"The Swan," rocked, asking to be set afloat
+It was a dainty row-boat--strong, yet light;
+Each side a swan was painted snowy white:
+A present from my uncle, just before
+He sailed, with Death, to that mysterious strand,
+Where freighted ships go sailing evermore,
+But none return to tell us of the land.
+
+I freed the "Swan," and slowly rowed about,
+Wherever sea-weeds, grass, or green leaves lifted
+Their tips above the water. So we drifted,
+While Helen, opposite, leaned idly out
+And watched for lilies in the waves below,
+And softly crooned some sweet and dreamy air,
+That soothed me like a mother's lullabies.
+I dropped the oars, and closed my sun-kissed eyes,
+And let the boat go drifting here and there.
+Oh, happy day! the last of that brief time
+Of thoughtless youth, when all the world seems bright,
+Ere that disguisčd angel men call Woe
+Leads the sad heart through valleys dark as night,
+Up to the heights exalted and sublime.
+On each blest, happy moment, I am fain
+To linger long, ere I pass on to pain
+And sorrow that succeeded.
+
+                         From day-dreams,
+As golden as the summer noontide's beams,
+I was awakened by a voice that cried:
+"Strange ship, ahoy! Fair frigate, whither bound?"
+And, starting up, I cast my gaze around,
+And saw a sail-boat o'er the water glide
+Close to the "Swan," like some live thing of grace;
+And from it looked the glowing, handsome face
+Of Vivian.
+
+                         "Beauteous sirens of the sea,
+Come sail across the raging main with me!"
+He laughed; and leaning, drew our drifting boat
+Beside his own. "There, now! step in!" he said,
+"I'll land you anywhere you want to go--
+My boat is safer far than yours, I know:
+And much more pleasant with its sails all spread.
+The Swan? We'll take the oars, and let it float
+Ashore at leisure. You, Maurine, sit there--
+Miss Helen here. Ye gods and little fishes!
+I've reached the height of pleasure, and my wishes.
+Adieu despondency! farewell to care!"
+
+'T was done so quickly: that was Vivian's way.
+He did not wait for either yea or nay.
+He gave commands, and left you with no choice
+But just to do the bidding of his voice.
+His rare, kind smile, low tones, and manly face
+Lent to his quick imperiousness a grace
+And winning charm, completely stripping it
+Of what might otherwise have seemed unfit.
+Leaving no trace of tyranny, but just
+That nameless force that seemed to say, "You must."
+Suiting its pretty title of "The Dawn,"
+(So named, he said, that it might rhyme with "Swan,")
+Vivian's sail-boat, was carpeted with blue,
+While all its sails were of a pale rose hue.
+The daintiest craft that flirted with the breeze;
+A poet's fancy in an hour of ease.
+
+Whatever Vivian had was of the best.
+His room was like some Sultan's in the East.
+His board was always spread as for a feast.
+Whereat, each meal, he was both host and guest.
+He would go hungry sooner than he'd dine
+At his own table if 'twere illy set.
+He so loved things artistic in design--
+Order and beauty, all about him. Yet
+So kind he was, if it befell his lot
+To dine within the humble peasant's cot,
+He made it seem his native soil to be,
+And thus displayed the true gentility.
+
+Under the rosy banners of the "Dawn,"
+Around the lake we drifted on, and on.
+It was a time for dreams, and not for speech.
+And so we floated on in silence, each
+Weaving the fancies suiting such a day.
+Helen leaned idly o'er the sail-boat's side,
+And dipped her rosy fingers in the tide;
+And I among the cushions half reclined,
+Half sat, and watched the fleecy clouds at play
+While Vivian with his blank-book, opposite,
+In which he seemed to either sketch or write
+Was lost in inspiration of some kind.
+
+No time, no change, no scene, can e'er efface
+My mind's impression of that hour and place;
+It stands out like a picture. O'er the years,
+Black with their robes of sorrow--veiled with tears,
+Lying with all their lengthened shapes between,
+Untouched, undimmed, I still behold that scene.
+Just as the last of Indian-summer days,
+Replete with sunlight, crowned with amber haze,
+Followed by dark and desolate December,
+Through all the months of winter we remember.
+
+The sun slipped westward. That peculiar change
+Which creeps into the air, and speaks of night
+While yet the day is full of golden light,
+We felt steal o'er us.
+                         Vivian broke the spell
+Of dream-fraught silence, throwing down his book:
+"Young ladies, please allow me to arrange
+These wraps about your shoulders. I know well
+The fickle nature of our atmosphere,--
+Her smile swift followed by a frown or tear,--
+And go prepared for changes. Now you look,
+Like--like--oh, where's a pretty simile?
+Had you a pocket mirror here you'd see
+How well my native talent is displayed
+In shawling you. Red on the brunette maid;
+Blue on the blonde--and quite without design
+(Oh, where _is_ that comparison of mine?)
+Well--like a June rose and a violet blue
+In one bouquet! I fancy that will do.
+And now I crave your patience and a boon,
+Which is to listen, while I read my rhyme,
+A floating fancy of the summer time.
+'Tis neither witty, wonderful, nor wise,
+So listen kindly--but don't criticise
+My maiden effort of the afternoon:
+
+         "If all the ships I have at sea
+          Should come a-sailing home to me,
+          Ah, well! the harbor could not hold
+          So many sails as there would be
+          If all my ships came in from sea.
+
+         "If half my ships came home from sea,
+          And brought their precious freight to me,
+          Ah, well! I should have wealth as great
+          As any king who sits in state--
+          So rich the treasures that would be
+          In half my ships now out at sea.
+
+         "If just one ship I have at sea
+          Should come a-sailing home to me,
+          Ah, well! the storm-clouds then might frown:
+          For if the others all went down
+          Still rich and proud and glad I'd be,
+          If that one ship came back to me.
+
+         "If that one ship went down at sea,
+          And all the others came to me,
+          Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,
+          With glory, honor, riches, gold,
+          The poorest soul on earth I'd be
+          If that one ship came not to me.
+
+         "O skies be calm? O winds blow free--
+          Blow all my ships safe home to me.
+          But if thou sendest some a-wrack
+          To never more come sailing back,
+          Send any--all, that skim the sea,
+          But bring my love-ship home to me."
+
+Helen was leaning by me, and her head
+Rested against my shoulder: as he read,
+I stroked her hair, and watched the fleecy skies,
+And when he finished, did not turn my eyes.
+I felt too happy and too shy to meet
+His gaze just then. I said, "'Tis very sweet,
+And suits the day; does it not, Helen, dear?"
+But Helen, voiceless, did not seem to hear.
+"'Tis strange," I added, "how you poets sing
+So feelingly about the very thing
+You care not for! and dress up an ideal
+So well, it looks a living, breathing real!
+Now, to a listener, your love song seemed
+A heart's out-pouring; yet I've heard you say
+Almost the opposite; or that you deemed
+Position, honor, glory, power, fame,
+Gained without loss of conscience or good name,
+The things to live for."
+                         "Have you? Well you may,"
+Laughed Vivian, "but 'twas years--or months ago!
+And Solomon says wise men change, you know!
+I now speak truth! if she I hold most dear
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,
+My heart would find the years more lonely here.
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,
+And sent an exile to a foreign land."
+
+His voice was low, and measured: as he spoke,
+New, unknown chords of melody awoke
+Within my soul. I felt my heart expand
+With that sweet fullness born of love. I turned
+To hide the blushes on my cheek that burned,
+And leaning over Helen, breathed her name.
+She lay so motionless I thought she slept:
+But, as I spoke, I saw her eyes unclose,
+And o'er her face a sudden glory swept,
+And a slight tremor thrilled all through her frame.
+"Sweet friend," I said, "your face is full of light:
+What were the dreams that made your eyes so bright?"
+
+She only smiled for answer, and arose
+From her reclining posture at my side,
+Threw back the clust'ring ringlets from her face
+With a quick gesture, full of easy grace,
+And, turning, spoke to Vivian. "Will you guide
+The boat up near that little clump of green
+Off to the right? There's where the lilies grow.
+We quite forgot our errand here, Maurine,
+And our few moments have grown into hours.
+What will Aunt Ruth think of our ling'ring so?
+There--that will do--now I can reach the flowers."
+
+"Hark! just hear that!" and Vivian broke forth singing,
+"Row, brothers, row." "The six o'clock bell's ringing!
+Who ever knew three hours to go so fast
+In all the annals of the world, before?
+I could have sworn not over one had passed.
+Young ladies, I am forced to go ashore!
+I thank you for the pleasure you have given;
+This afternoon has been a glimpse of heaven.
+Good night--sweet dreams! and by your gracious leave,
+I'll pay my compliments to-morrow eve."
+
+A smile, a bow, and he had gone his way:
+And, in the waning glory of the day,
+Down cool, green lanes, and through the length'ning shadows,
+Silent, we wandered back across the meadows.
+The wreath was finished, and adorned my room;
+Long afterward, the lilies' copied bloom
+Was like a horrid specter in my sight,
+Staring upon me morning, noon, and night.
+
+The sun went down. The sad new moon rose up,
+And passed before me, like an empty cup,
+The Great Unseen brims full of pain or bliss,
+And gives His children, saying, "Drink of this."
+
+A light wind, from the open casement, fanned
+My brow and Helen's, as we, hand in hand,
+Sat looking out upon the twilight scene,
+In dreamy silence. Helen's dark blue eyes,
+Like two lost stars that wandered from the skies
+Some night adown the meteor's shining track,
+And always had been grieving to go back,
+Now gazed up, wistfully, at heaven's dome,
+And seemed to recognize and long for home.
+Her sweet voice broke the silence: "Wish, Maurine,
+Before you speak! you know the moon is new,
+And anything you wish for will come true
+Before it wanes. I do believe the sign!
+Now tell me your wish, and I'll tell you mine."
+
+I turned and looked up at the slim young moon;
+And, with an almost superstitious heart,
+I sighed, "Oh, new moon! help me, by thine art,
+To grow all grace and goodness, and to be
+Worthy the love a true heart proffers me."
+Then smiling down, I said, "Dear one! my boon,
+I fear, is quite too silly or too sweet
+For my repeating: so we'll let it stay
+Between the moon and me. But if I may
+I'll listen now to your wish. Tell me, please!"
+
+All suddenly she nestled at my feet,
+And hid her blushing face upon my knees.
+Then drew my hand against her glowing cheek,
+And, leaning on my breast, began to speak,
+Half sighing out the words my tortured ear
+Reached down to catch, while striving not to hear.
+
+"Can you not guess who 'twas about, Maurine?
+Oh, my sweet friend! you must ere this have seen
+The love I tried to cover from all eyes
+And from myself. Ah, foolish little heart!
+As well it might go seeking for some art
+Whereby to hide the sun in noonday skies.
+When first the strange sound of his voice I heard,
+Looked on his noble face, and touched his hand,
+My slumb'ring heart thrilled through and through, and stirred
+As if to say, 'I hear, and understand.'
+And day by day mine eyes were blest beholding
+The inner beauty of his life, unfolding
+In countless words and actions, that portrayed
+The noble stuff of which his soul was made.
+And more and more I felt my heart upreaching
+Toward the truth, drawn gently by his teaching,
+As flowers are drawn by sunlight. And there grew
+A strange, shy something in its depths, I knew
+At length was love, because it was so sad,
+And yet so sweet, and made my heart so glad,
+
+Yet seemed to pain me. Then, for very shame,
+Lest all should read my secret and its name.
+I strove to hide it in my breast away,
+Where God could see it only. But each day
+It seemed to grow within me, and would rise,
+Like my own soul, and look forth from my eyes,
+Defying bonds of silence; and would speak,
+In its red-lettered language, on my cheek,
+If but his name was uttered. You were kind,
+My own Maurine! as you alone could be,
+So long the sharer of my heart and mind,
+While yet you saw, in seeming not to see.
+In all the years we have been friends, my own.
+And loved as women very rarely do,
+My heart no sorrow and no joy has known
+It has not shared at once, in full, with you
+And I so longed to speak to you of this,
+When first I felt its mingled pain and bliss;
+Yet dared not, lest you, knowing him, should say,
+In pity for my folly--'Lack-a-day!
+You are undone: because no mortal art
+Can win the love of such a lofty heart.'
+And so I waited, silent and in pain,
+Till I could know I did not love in vain.
+And now I know, beyond a doubt or fear.
+Did he not say, 'If she I hold most dear
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,
+My heart would find the years more lonely here
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,
+And sent, an exile, to a foreign land'?
+Oh, darling, you must _love_, to understand
+The joy that thrilled all through me at those words.
+It was as if a thousand singing birds
+Within my heart broke forth in notes of praise.
+I did not look up, but I knew his gaze
+Was on my face, and that his eyes must see
+The joy I felt almost transfigured me.
+He loves me--loves me! so the birds kept singing,
+And all my soul with that sweet strain is ringing.
+If there were added but one drop of bliss,
+No more my cup would hold: and so, this eve,
+I made a wish that I might feel his kiss
+Upon my lips, ere yon pale moon should leave
+The stars all lonely, having waned away,
+Too old and weak and bowed with care to stay."
+
+Her voice sighed into silence. While she spoke
+My heart writhed in me, praying she would cease--
+Each word she uttered falling like a stroke
+On my bare soul. And now a hush like death,
+Save that 'twas broken by a quick-drawn breath,
+Fell 'round me, but brought not the hoped-for peace.
+For when the lash no longer leaves its blows,
+The flesh still quivers, and the blood still flows.
+
+She nestled on my bosom like a child.
+And 'neath her head my tortured heart throbbed wild
+With pain and pity. She had told her tale--
+Her self-deceiving story to the end.
+How could I look down on her as she lay
+So fair, and sweet, and lily-like, and frail--
+A tender blossom on my breast, and say,
+"Nay, you are wrong--you do mistake, dear friend!
+'Tis I am loved, not you"? Yet that were truth,
+And she must know it later.
+                         Should I speak,
+And spread a ghastly pallor o'er the cheek
+Flushed now with joy?--And while I, doubting, pondered,
+She spoke again. "Maurine! I oft have wondered
+Why you and Vivian were not lovers. He
+Is all a heart could ask its king to be;
+And you have beauty, intellect and youth.
+I think it strange you have not loved each other--
+Strange how he could pass by you for another
+Not half so fair or worthy. Yet I know
+A loving Father pre-arranged it so.
+I think my heart has known him all these years,
+And waited for him. And if when he came
+It had been as a lover of my friend,
+I should have recognized him, all the same,
+As my soul-mate, and loved him to the end,
+Hiding my grief, and forcing back my tears
+Till on my heart, slow dropping, day by day,
+Unseen they fell, and wore it all away.
+And so a tender Father kept him free,
+With all the largeness of his love, for me--
+For me, unworthy such a precious gift!
+Yet I will bend each effort of my life
+To grow in grace and goodness, and to lift
+My soul and spirit to his lofty height,
+So to deserve that holy name, his wife.
+Sweet friend, it fills my whole heart with delight
+To breathe its long hid secret in your ear.
+Speak, my Maurine, and say you love to hear!"
+The while she spoke, my active brain gave rise
+To one great thought of mighty sacrifice
+And self-denial. Oh! it blanched my cheek,
+And wrung my soul; and from my heart it drove
+All life and feeling. Coward-like, I strove
+To send it from me; but I felt it cling
+And hold fast on my mind like some live thing;
+And all the Self within me felt its touch
+And cried, "No, no! I cannot do so much--
+I am not strong enough--there is no call."
+And then the voice of Helen bade me speak,
+And with a calmness born of nerve, I said,
+Scarce knowing what I uttered, "Sweetheart, all
+Your joys and sorrows are with mine own wed.
+I thank you for your confidence, and pray
+I may deserve it always. But, dear one,
+Something--perhaps our boat-ride in the sun,
+Has set my head to aching. I must go
+To bed directly; and you will, I know,
+Grant me your pardon, and another day
+We'll talk of this together. Now good night
+And angels guard you with their wings of light."
+
+I kissed her lips, and held her on my heart,
+And viewed her as I ne'er had done before.
+I gazed upon her features o'er and o'er;
+Marked her white, tender face--her fragile form,
+Like some frail plant that withers in the storm;
+Saw she was fairer in her new-found joy
+Than e'er before; and thought, "Can I destroy
+God's handiwork, or leave it at the best
+A broken harp, while I close clasp my bliss?"
+I bent my head and gave her one last kiss,
+And sought my room, and found there such relief
+As sad hearts feel when first alone with grief.
+
+The moon went down, slow sailing from my sight,
+And left the stars to watch away the night.
+O stars, sweet stars, so changeless and serene!
+What depths of woe your pitying eyes have seen!
+The proud sun sets, and leaves us with our sorrow,
+To grope alone in darkness till the morrow.
+The languid moon, e'en if she deigns to rise,
+Soon seeks her couch, grown weary of our sighs;
+But from the early gloaming till the day
+Sends golden-liveried heralds forth to say
+He comes in might; the patient stars shine on,
+Steadfast and faithful, from twilight to dawn.
+And, as they shone upon Gethsemane,
+And watched the struggle of a God-like soul,
+Now from the same far height they shone on me,
+And saw the waves of anguish o'er me roll.
+
+The storm had come upon me all unseen:
+No sound of thunder fell upon my ear;
+No cloud arose to tell me it was near;
+But under skies all sunlit, and serene,
+I floated with the current of the stream,
+And thought life all one golden-haloed dream.
+When lo! a hurricane, with awful force,
+Swept swift upon its devastating course,
+Wrecked my frail bark, and cast me on the wave
+Where all my hopes had found a sudden grave.
+Love makes us blind and selfish: otherwise
+I had seen Helen's secret in her eyes;
+So used I was to reading every look
+In her sweet face, as I would read a book.
+But now, made sightless by love's blinding rays,
+I had gone on unseeing, to the end
+Where Pain dispelled the mist of golden haze
+That walled me in, and lo! I found my friend
+Who journeyed with me--at my very side,
+Had been sore wounded to the heart, while I
+Both deaf and blind, saw not, nor heard her cry.
+And then I sobbed, "O God! I would have died
+To save her this." And as I cried in pain,
+There leaped forth from the still, white realm of Thought
+Where Conscience dwells, that unimpassioned spot
+As widely different from the heart's domain
+As north from south--the impulse felt before,
+And put away; but now it rose once more,
+In greater strength, and said, "Heart, would'st thou prove
+What lips have uttered? Then go lay thy love
+On Friendship's altar, as thy offering."
+"Nay!" cried my heart, "ask any other thing--
+Ask life itself--'twere easier sacrifice.
+But ask not love, for that I cannot give."
+
+"But," spoke the voice, "the meanest insect dies,
+And is no hero! heroes dare to live
+When all that makes life sweet is snatched away."
+So with my heart, in converse, till the day
+In gold and crimson billows, rose and broke,
+The voice of Conscience, all unwearied, spoke.
+Love warred with Friendship: heart with Conscience fought,
+Hours rolled away, and yet the end was not.
+And wily Self, tricked out like tenderness,
+Sighed, "Think how one, whose life thou wert to bless,
+Will be cast down, and grope in doubt and fear!
+Wouldst thou wound him, to give thy friend relief?
+Can wrong make right?"
+                         "Nay!" Conscience said, "but Pride
+And Time can heal the saddest hurts of Love.
+While Friendship's wounds gape wide and yet more wide,
+And bitter fountains of the spirit prove."
+
+At length, exhausted with the wearing strife,
+I cast the new-found burden of my life
+On God's broad breast, and sought that deep repose
+That only he who watched with sorrow knows.
+
+
+_PART IV._
+
+"Maurine, Maurine! 'tis ten o'clock! arise,
+My pretty sluggard! open those dark eyes,
+And see where yonder sun is! Do you know
+I made my toilet just four hours ago?"
+
+'T was Helen's voice: and Helen's gentle kiss
+Fell on my cheek. As from a deep abyss,
+I drew my weary self from that strange sleep
+That rests not, nor refreshes. Scarce awake
+Or conscious, yet there seemed a heavy weight
+Bound on my breast, as by a cruel Fate.
+I knew not why, and yet I longed to weep.
+Some dark cloud seemed to hang upon the day;
+And, for a moment, in that trance I lay,
+When suddenly the truth did o'er me break,
+Like some great wave upon a helpless child.
+The dull pain in my breast grew like a knife--
+The heavy throbbing of my heart grew wild,
+And God gave back the burden of the life
+He kept what time I slumbered.
+                         "You are ill,"
+Cried Helen, "with that blinding headache still!
+You look so pale and weary. Now let me
+Play nurse, Maurine, and care for you to-day!
+And first I'll suit some dainty to your taste,
+And bring it to you, with a cup of tea."
+And off she ran, not waiting my reply.
+But, wanting most the sunshine and the light,
+I left my couch, and clothed myself in haste,
+And, kneeling, sent to God an earnest cry
+For help and guidance.
+                         "Show Thou me the way,
+Where duty leads; for I am blind! my sight
+Obscured by self. Oh, lead my steps aright!
+Help me see the path: and if it may,
+Let this cup pass:--and yet Thou heavenly One
+Thy will in all things, not mine own, be done."
+Rising, I went upon my way, receiving
+The strength prayer gives alway to hearts believing.
+I felt that unseen hands were leading me,
+And knew the end was peace.
+                         "What! are you up?"
+Cried Helen, coming with a tray, and cup,
+Of tender toast, and fragrant smoking tea.
+"You naughty girl! you should have stayed in bed
+Until you ate your breakfast, and were better
+I've something hidden for you here--a letter.
+But drink your tea before you read it, dear!
+'Tis from some distant cousin, Auntie said,
+And so you need not hurry. Now be good,
+And mind your Helen."
+                        So, in passive mood,
+I laid the still unopened letter near,
+And loitered at my breakfast more to please
+My nurse, than any hunger to appease.
+Then listlessly I broke the seal and read
+The few lines written in a bold free hand:
+"New London, Canada. Dear Coz. Maurine!
+(In spite of generations stretched between
+Our natural right to that most handy claim
+Of cousinship, we'll use it all the same)
+I'm coming to see you! honestly, in truth!
+I've threatened often--now I mean to act.
+You'll find my coming is a stubborn fact.
+Keep quiet though, and do not tell Aunt Ruth
+I wonder if she'll know her petted boy
+In spite of changes. Look for me until
+You see me coming. As of old I'm still
+Your faithful friend, and loving cousin, Roy."
+
+So Roy was coming! He and I had played
+As boy and girl, and later, youth and maid,
+Full half our lives together. He had been,
+Like me, an orphan; and the roof of kin
+Gave both kind shelter. Swift years sped away
+Ere change was felt: and then one summer day
+A long lost uncle sailed from India's shore--
+Made Roy his heir, and he was ours no more.
+
+"He'd write us daily, and we'd see his face
+Once every year." Such was his promise given
+The morn he left. But now the years were seven
+Since last he looked upon the olden place.
+He'd been through college, traveled in all lands,
+Sailed over seas, and trod the desert sands.
+Would write and plan a visit, then, ere long,
+Would write again from Egypt or Hong Kong--
+Some fancy called him thither unforeseen.
+So years had passed, till seven lay between
+His going and the coming of this note,
+Which I hid in my bosom, and replied
+To Aunt Ruth's queries, "What the truant wrote?"
+By saying he was still upon the wing,
+And merely dropped a line, while journeying,
+To say he lived: and she was satisfied.
+
+Sometimes it happens, in this world so strange,
+A human heart will pass through mortal strife,
+And writhe in torture: while the old sweet life
+So full of hope, and beauty, bloom and grace,
+Is slowly strangled by remorseless Pain:
+And one stern, cold, relentless, takes its place--
+A ghastly, pallid specter of the slain.
+Yet those in daily converse see no change
+Nor dream the heart has suffered.
+                         So that day
+I passed along toward the troubled way
+Stern duty pointed, and no mortal guessed
+A mighty conflict had disturbed my breast.
+
+I had resolved to yield up to my friend
+The man I loved. Since she, too, loved him so
+I saw no other way in honor left.
+She was so weak and fragile, once bereft
+Of this great hope, that held her with such power
+She would wilt down, like some frost-bitten flower
+And swift untimely death would be the end.
+But I was strong: and hardy plants, which grow
+In out-door soil, can bear bleak winds that blow
+From Arctic lands, whereof a single breath
+Would lay the hot-house blossom low in death.
+
+The hours went by, too slow, and yet too fast.
+All day I argued with my foolish heart
+That bade me play the shrinking coward's part
+And hide from pain. And when the day had past
+And time for Vivian's call drew near and nearer,
+It pleaded. "Wait, until the way seems clearer:
+Say you are ill--or busy: keep away
+Until you gather strength enough to play
+The part you have resolved on."
+
+                         "Nay, not so,"
+Made answer clear-eyed Reason, "Do you go
+And put your resolution to the test.
+Resolve, however nobly formed, at best
+Is but a still born babe of Thought, until
+It proves existence of its life and will
+By sound or action."
+                         So when Helen came
+And knelt by me, her fair face all aflame
+With sudden blushes, whispering, "My sweet!
+My heart can hear the music of his feet--
+Go down with me to meet him," I arose,
+And went with her all calmly, as one goes
+To look upon the dear face of the dead.
+
+That eve, I know not what I did or said.
+I was not cold--my manner was not strange:
+Perchance I talked more freely than my wont,
+But in my speech was naught could give affront;
+Yet I conveyed, as only woman can,
+That nameless _something_, which bespeaks a change.
+
+'Tis in the power of woman, if she be
+Whole-souled and noble, free from coquetry--
+Her motives all unselfish, worthy, good,
+To make herself and feelings understood
+By nameless acts--thus sparing what to man,
+However gently answered, causes pain,
+The offering of his hand and heart in vain.
+
+She can be friendly, unrestrained, and kind,
+Assume no airs of pride or arrogance;
+But in her voice, her manner, and her glance,
+Convey that mystic something, undefined,
+Which men fail not to understand and read,
+And, when not blind with egoism, heed.
+My task was harder. 'T was the slow undoing
+Of long sweet months of unimpeded wooing.
+It was to hide and cover and conceal
+The truth--assuming, what I did not feel.
+It was to dam love's happy singing tide
+That blessed me with its hopeful, tuneful tone,
+By feigned indiff'rence, till it turned aside,
+And changed its channel, leaving me alone
+To walk parched plains, and thirst for that sweet draught
+My lips had tasted, but another quaffed.
+It could be done. For no words yet were spoken--
+None to recall--no pledges to be broken.
+"He will be grieved, then angry, cold, then cross,"
+I reasoned, thinking what would be his part
+In this strange drama. "Then, because his he
+Feels something lacking, to make good his loss,
+He'll turn to Helen: and her gentle grace
+And loving acts will win her soon the place
+I hold to-day: and like a troubled dream
+At length, our past, when he looks back, will seem."
+That evening passed with music, chat and song:
+But hours that once had flown on airy wings
+Now limped on weary, aching limbs along,
+Each moment like some dreaded step that brings
+A twinge of pain.
+                  As Vivian rose to go,
+Slow bending to me, from his greater height,
+He took my hand, and, looking in my eyes,
+With tender questioning and pained surprise,
+Said, "Maurine, you are not yourself to-night!
+What is it? Are you ailing?"
+                         "Ailing? no,"
+I answered, laughing lightly, "I am not:
+Just see my cheek, sir! is it thin, or pale?
+Now tell me, am I looking very frail?"
+"Nay, nay!" he answered, "it can not be _seen_,
+The change I speak of--'twas more in your mien:
+Preoccupation, or--I know not what!
+Miss Helen, am I wrong, or does Maurine
+Seem to have something on her mind this eve?"
+"She does!" laughed Helen, "and I do believe
+I know what 'tis! A letter came to-day
+Which she read slyly, and then hid away
+Close to her heart, not knowing I was near:
+And since she's been as you have seen her here.
+See how she blushes! so my random shot
+We must believe has struck a tender spot."
+
+Her rippling laughter floated through the room,
+And redder yet I felt the hot blood rise,
+Then surge away to leave me pale as death,
+Under the dark and swiftly gathering gloom
+Of Vivian's questioning, accusing eyes,
+That searched my soul. I almost shrieked beneath
+That stern, fixed gaze; and stood spellbound until
+He turned with sudden movement, gave his hand
+To each in turn, and said, "You must not stand
+Longer, young ladies, in this open door.
+The air is heavy with a cold damp chill.
+We shall have rain to-morrow, or before.
+Good night."
+                         He vanished in the darkling shade;
+And so the dreaded evening found an end,
+That saw me grasp the conscience-whetted blade,
+And strike a blow for honor and for friend.
+
+"How swiftly passed the evening!" Helen sighed.
+"How long the hours!" my tortured heart replied.
+Joy, like a child, with lightsome steps doth glide
+By Father Time, and, looking in his face,
+Cries, snatching blossoms from the fair road-side,
+"I could pluck more, but for thy hurried pace."
+The while her elder brother Pain, man grown,
+Whose feet are hurt by many a thorn and stone,
+Looks to some distant hill-top, high and calm,
+Where he shall find not only rest, but balm
+For all his wounds, and cries in tones of woe,
+"O Father Time! why is thy pace so slow?"
+
+Two days, all sad with lonely wind and rain,
+Went sobbing by, repeating o'er and o'er
+The miserere, desolate and drear,
+Which every human heart must sometime hear.
+Pain is but little varied. Its refrain,
+Whate'er the words are, is for aye the same.
+The third day brought a change: for with it came
+Not only sunny smiles to Nature's face,
+But Roy, our Roy came back to us. Once more
+We looked into his laughing, handsome eyes,
+Which, while they gave Aunt Ruth a glad surprise
+In no way puzzled her: for one glance told
+What each succeeding one confirmed, that he
+Who bent above her with the lissome grace
+Of his fine form, though grown so tall, could be
+No other than the Roy Montaine of old.
+
+It was a sweet reunion: and he brought
+So much of sunshine with him, that I caught,
+Just from his smile alone, enough of gladness
+To make my heart forget a time its sadness.
+We talked together of the dear old days:
+Leaving the present, with its depths and heights
+Of life's maturer sorrows and delights,
+I turned back to my childhood's level land,
+And Roy and I, dear playmates, hand in hand,
+Wandered in mem'ry, through the olden ways.
+
+It was the second evening of his coming.
+Helen was playing dreamily, and humming
+Some wordless melody of white-souled thought,
+While Roy and I sat by the open door,
+Re-living childish incidents of yore.
+My eyes were glowing, and my cheeks were hot
+With warm young blood; excitement, joy, or pain
+Alike would send swift coursing through each vein.
+Roy, always eloquent, was waxing fine,
+And bringing vividly before my gaze
+Some old adventure of those halcyon days,
+When suddenly in pauses of the talk,
+I heard a well-known step upon the walk,
+And looked up quickly to meet full in mine
+The eyes of Vivian Dangerfield. A flash
+Shot from their depths:--a sudden blaze of light
+Like that swift followed by the thunder's crash,
+Which said, "Suspicion is confirmed by sight,"
+As they fell on the pleasant door-way scene.
+Then o'er his clear-cut face, a cold white look
+Crept, like the pallid moonlight o'er a brook,
+And, with a slight, proud bending of the head,
+He stepped toward us haughtily and said,
+"Please pardon my intrusion, Miss Maurine:
+I called to ask Miss Trevor for a book
+She spoke of lending me: nay, sit you still!
+And I, by grant of your permission, will
+Pass by to where I hear her playing."
+                         "Stay!"
+I said, "one moment, Vivian, if you please;"
+And suddenly bereft of all my ease,
+And scarcely knowing what to do, or say,
+Confused as any school-girl, I arose,
+And some way made each to the other known
+They bowed, shook hands: then Vivian turned away
+And sought out Helen, leaving us alone.
+
+"One of Miss Trevor's, or of Maurine's beaux?
+Which may he be, who cometh like a prince
+With haughty bearing, and an eagle eye?"
+Roy queried, laughing: and I answered, "Since
+You saw him pass me for Miss Trevor's side,
+I leave your own good judgment to reply."
+
+And straightway caused the tide of talk to glide
+In other channels, striving to dispel
+The sudden gloom that o'er my spirit fell.
+
+We mortals are such hypocrites at best!
+When Conscience tries our courage with a test,
+And points to some steep pathway, we set out
+Boldly, denying any fear or doubt;
+But pause before the first rock in the way,
+And, looking back, with tears, at Conscience, say
+"We are so sad, dear Conscience! for we would
+Most gladly do what to thee seemeth good;
+But lo! this rock! we cannot climb it, so
+Thou must point out some other way to go."
+Yet secretly we are rejoicing: and,
+When right before our faces, as we stand
+In seeming grief, the rock is cleft in twain,
+Leaving the pathway clear, we shrink in pain!
+And loth to go, by every act reveal
+What we so tried from Conscience to conceal.
+
+I saw that hour, the way made plain, to do
+With scarce an effort, what had seemed a strife
+That would require the strength of my whole life.
+
+Women have quick perceptions: and I knew
+That Vivian's heart was full of jealous pain,
+Suspecting--nay _believing_ Roy Montaine
+To be my lover.--First my altered mien--
+And next the letter--then the door-way scene--
+My flushed face gazing in the one above
+That bent so near me, and my strange confusion
+When Vivian came, all led to one conclusion:
+That I had but been playing with his love,
+As women sometimes cruelly do play
+With hearts when their true lovers are away.
+
+There could be nothing easier, than just
+To let him linger on in this belief
+Till hourly-fed Suspicion and Distrust
+Should turn to scorn and anger all his grief.
+Compared with me, so doubly sweet and pure
+Would Helen seem, my purpose would be sure,
+And certain of completion in the end.
+But now, the way was made so straight and clear,
+My coward heart shrank back in guilty fear,
+Till Conscience whispered with her "still small voice,"
+"The precious time is passing--make thy choice--
+Resign thy love, or slay thy trusting friend."
+
+The growing moon, watched by the myriad eyes
+Of countless stars, went sailing through the skies,
+Like some young prince, rising to rule a nation,
+To whom all eyes are turned in expectation.
+A woman who possesses tact and art
+And strength of will can take the hand of doom,
+And walk on, smiling sweetly as she goes,
+With rosy lips, and rounded cheeks of bloom,
+Cheating a loud-tongued world that never knows
+The pain and sorrow of her hidden heart.
+And so I joined in Roy's bright changing chat;
+Answered his sallies--talked of this and that,
+My brow unruffled as the calm still wave
+That tells not of the wrecked ship, and the grave
+Beneath its surface.
+                         Then we heard, ere long,
+The sound of Helen's gentle voice in song,
+And, rising, entered where the subtle power
+Of Vivian's eyes, forgiving while accusing,
+Finding me weak, had won me, in that hour;
+But Roy, alway polite and debonair
+Where ladies were, now hung about my chair
+With nameless delicate attentions, using
+That air devotional, and those small arts
+Acquaintance with society imparts
+To men gallant by nature.
+                         'T was my sex
+And not myself he bowed to. Had my place
+Been filled that evening by a dowager,
+Twice his own age, he would have given her
+The same attentions. But they served to vex
+Whatever hope in Vivian's heart remained.
+The cold, white look crept back upon his face,
+Which told how deeply he was hurt and pained.
+
+Little by little all things had conspired,
+To bring events I dreaded, yet desired.
+We were in constant intercourse: walks, rides,
+Picnics and sails, filled weeks of golden weather,
+And almost hourly we were thrown together.
+No words were spoken of rebuke or scorn:
+Good friends we seemed. But as a gulf divides
+This land and that, though lying side by side,
+So rolled a gulf between us--deep and wide--
+The gulf of doubt, which widened slowly morn
+And noon and night.
+                         Free and informal were
+These picnics and excursions. Yet, although
+Helen and I would sometimes choose to go
+Without our escorts, leaving them quite free.
+It happened alway Roy would seek out me
+Ere passed the day, while Vivian walked with her.
+I had no thought of flirting. Roy was just
+Like some dear brother, and I quite forgot
+The kinship was so distant it was not
+Safe to rely upon in perfect trust,
+Without reserve or caution. Many a time
+When there was some steep mountain side to climb,
+And I grew weary, he would say, "Maurine,
+Come rest you here." And I would go and lean
+My head upon his shoulder, or would stand
+And let him hold in his my willing hand.
+The while he stroked it gently with his own.
+Or I would let him clasp me with his arm,
+Nor entertained a thought of any harm,
+Nor once supposed but Vivian was alone
+In his suspicions. But ere long the truth
+I learned in consternation! both Aunt Ruth
+And Helen, honestly, in faith believed
+That Roy and I were lovers.
+                         Undeceived,
+Some careless words might open Vivian's eyes
+And spoil my plans. So reasoning in this wise,
+To all their sallies I in jest replied,
+To naught assented, and yet naught denied,
+With Roy unchanged remaining, confident
+Each understood just what the other meant.
+
+If I grew weary of this double part,
+And self-imposed deception caused my heart
+Sometimes to shrink, I needed but to gaze
+On Helen's face: that wore a look ethereal,
+As if she dwelt above the things material
+And held communion with the angels. So
+I fed my strength and courage through the days.
+What time the harvest moon rose full and clear
+And cast its ling'ring radiance on the earth,
+We made a feast; and called from far and near,
+Our friends, who came to share the scene of mirth.
+Fair forms and faces flitted to and fro;
+But none more sweet than Helen's. Robed in white,
+She floated like a vision through the dance.
+So frailly fragile and so phantom fair,
+She seemed like some stray spirit of the air,
+And was pursued by many an anxious glance
+That looked to see her fading from the sight
+Like figures that a dreamer sees at night.
+
+And noble men and gallants graced the scene:
+Yet none more noble or more grand of mien
+Than Vivian--broad of chest and shoulder, tall
+And finely formed, as any Grecian god
+Whose high-arched foot on Mount Olympus trod.
+His clear-cut face was beardless; and, like those
+Same Grecian statues, when in calm repose,
+Was it in hue and feature. Framed in hair
+Dark and abundant; lighted by large eyes
+That could be cold as steel in winter air,
+Or warm and sunny as Italian skies.
+
+Weary of mirth and music, and the sound
+Of tripping feet, I sought a moment's rest
+Within the lib'ry, where a group I found
+Of guests, discussing with apparent zest
+Some theme of interest--Vivian, near the while,
+Leaning and listening with his slow odd smile.
+"Now Miss La Pelle, we will appeal to you,"
+Cried young Guy Semple, as I entered. "We
+Have been discussing right before his face,
+All unrebuked by him, as you may see,
+A poem lately published by our friend:
+And we are quite divided. I contend
+The poem is a libel and untrue
+I hold the fickle women are but few,
+Compared with those who are like yon fair moon
+That, ever faithful, rises in her place
+Whether she's greeted by the flowers of June,
+Or cold and dreary stretches of white space."
+
+"Oh!" cried another, "Mr. Dangerfield,
+Look to your laurels! or you needs must yield
+The crown to Semple, who, 'tis very plain,
+Has mounted Pegasus and grasped his mane."
+
+All laughed: and then, as Guy appealed to me
+I answered lightly, "My young friend, I fear
+You chose a most unlucky simile
+To prove the truth of woman. To her place
+The moon does rise--but with a different face
+Each time she comes. But now I needs must hear
+The poem read, before I can consent
+To pass my judgment on the sentiment."
+
+All clamored that the author was the man
+To read the poem: and, with tones that said
+More than the cutting, scornful words he read,
+Taking the book Guy gave him, he began:
+
+  HER LOVE.
+
+          The sands upon the ocean side
+          That change about with every tide,
+          And never true to one abide,
+            A woman's love I liken to.
+
+          The summer zephyrs, light and vain,
+          That sing the same alluring strain
+          To every grass blade on the plain--
+            A woman's love is nothing more.
+
+          The sunshine of an April day
+          That comes to warm you with its ray,
+          But while you smile has flown away--
+            A woman's love is like to this.
+
+          God made poor woman with no heart,
+          But gave her skill, and tact, and art,
+          And so she lives, and plays her part.
+            We must not blame, but pity her.
+
+          She leans to man--but just to hear
+          The praise he whispers in her ear,
+          Herself, not him, she holdeth dear--
+            O fool! to be deceived by her.
+
+          To sate her selfish thirst she quaffs
+          The love of strong hearts in sweet draughts
+          Then throws them lightly by and laughs,
+            Too weak to understand their pain.
+
+          As changeful as the winds that blow
+          From every region, to and fro,
+          Devoid of heart, she cannot know
+            The suffering of a human heart.
+
+I knew the cold, fixed gaze of Vivian's eyes
+Saw the slow color to my forehead rise;
+But lightly answered, toying with my fan,
+"That sentiment is very like a man!
+Men call us fickle, but they do us wrong;
+We're only frail and helpless, men are strong;
+And when love dies, they take the poor dead thing
+And make a shroud out of their suffering,
+And drag the corpse about with them for years.
+But we?--we mourn it for a day with tears!
+And then we robe it for its last long rest,
+And being women, feeble things at best,
+We cannot dig the grave ourselves. And so
+We call strong-limbed New Love to lay it low:
+Immortal sexton he! whom Venus sends
+To do this service for her earthly friends,
+The trusty fellow digs the grave so deep
+Nothing disturbs the dead laid there to sleep."
+
+The laugh that followed had not died away
+Ere Roy Montaine came seeking me, to say
+The band was tuning for our waltz, and so
+Back to the ball-room bore me. In the glow
+And heat and whirl, my strength ere long was spent,
+And I grew faint and dizzy, and we went
+Out on the cool moonlighted portico,
+And, sitting there, Roy drew my languid head
+Upon the shelter of his breast, and bent
+His smiling eyes upon me, as he said,
+"I'll try the mesmerism of my touch
+To work a cure: be very quiet now,
+And let me make some passes o'er your brow.
+Why, how it throbs! you've exercised too much!
+I shall not let you dance again to-night."
+
+Just then before us, in the broad moonlight,
+Two forms were mirrored: and I turned my face
+To catch the teasing and mischievous glance
+Of Helen's eyes, as, heated by the dance,
+Leaning on Vivian's arm, she sought this place.
+
+"I beg your pardon," came in that round tone
+Of his low voice. "I think we do intrude."
+Bowing, they turned, and left us quite alone
+Ere I could speak, or change my attitude.
+
+
+_PART V._
+
+A visit to a cave some miles away
+Was next in order. So, one sunny day,
+Four prancing steeds conveyed a laughing load
+Of merry pleasure-seekers o'er the road.
+A basket picnic, music and croquet
+Were in the programme. Skies were blue and clear,
+And cool winds whispered of the Autumn near.
+The merry-makers filled the time with pleasure:
+Some floated to the music's rhythmic measure,
+Some played, some promenaded on the green.
+
+Ticked off by happy hearts, the moments passed.
+The afternoon, all glow and glimmer, came.
+Helen and Roy were leaders of some game,
+And Vivian was not visible.
+                         "Maurine,
+I challenge you to climb yon cliff with me!
+And who shall tire, or reach the summit last
+Must pay a forfeit," cried a romping maid.
+"Come! start at once, or own you are afraid."
+So challenged I made ready for the race,
+Deciding first the forfeit was to be
+A handsome pair of bootees to replace
+The victor's loss who made the rough ascent.
+The cliff was steep and stony. On we went
+As eagerly as if the path was Fame,
+And what we climbed for, glory and a name.
+My hands were bruised; my garments sadly rent,
+But on I clambered. Soon I heard a cry,
+"Maurine! Maurine! my strength is wholly spent!
+You've won the boots! I'm going back--good bye!"
+And back she turned, in spite of laugh and jeer.
+
+I reached the summit: and its solitude,
+Wherein no living creature did intrude,
+Save some sad birds that wheeled and circled near,
+I found far sweeter than the scene below.
+Alone with One who knew my hidden woe,
+I did not feel so much alone as when
+I mixed with th' unthinking throngs of men.
+
+Some flowers that decked the barren, sterile place
+I plucked, and read the lesson they conveyed,
+That in our lives, albeit dark with shade
+And rough and hard with labor, yet may grow
+The flowers of Patience, Sympathy, and Grace.
+
+As I walked on in meditative thought,
+A serpent writhed across my pathway; not
+A large or deadly serpent; yet the sight
+Filled me with ghastly terror and affright.
+I shrieked aloud: a darkness veiled my eyes--
+And I fell fainting 'neath the watchful skies.
+
+I was no coward. Country-bred and born,
+I had no feeling but the keenest scorn
+For those fine lady "ah's" and "oh's" of fear
+So much assumed (when any man is near).
+But God implanted in each human heart
+A natural horror, and a sickly dread
+Of that accursčd, slimy, creeping thing
+That squirms a limbless carcass o'er the ground.
+And where that inborn loathing is not found
+You'll find the serpent qualities instead.
+Who fears it not, himself is next of kin,
+And in his bosom holds some treacherous art
+Whereby to counteract its venomed sting.
+And all are sired by Satan--Chief of Sin.
+
+Who loathes not that foul creature of the dust,
+However fair in seeming, I distrust.
+
+I woke from my unconsciousness, to know
+I leaned upon a broad and manly breast,
+And Vivian's voice was speaking, soft and low,
+Sweet whispered words of passion, o'er and o'er.
+I dared not breathe. Had I found Eden's shore?
+Was this a foretaste of eternal bliss?
+"My love," he sighed, his voice like winds that moan
+Before a rain in Summer time, "My own,
+For one sweet stolen moment, lie and rest
+Upon this heart that loves and hates you both!
+O fair false face! Why were you made so fair!
+O mouth of Southern sweetness! that ripe kiss
+That hangs upon you, I do take an oath
+_His_ lips shall never gather. There!--and there!
+I steal it from him. Are you his--all his?
+Nay you are mine, this moment, as I dreamed--
+Blind fool--believing you were what you seemed--
+You would be mine in all the years to come.
+Fair fiend! I love and hate you in a breath.
+O God! if this white pallor were but _death_,
+And I were stretched beside you, cold and dumb,
+My arms about you, so--in fond embrace!
+My lips pressed, so--upon your dying face!"
+
+"Woman, how dare you bring me to such shame!
+How dare you drive me to an act like this,
+To steal from your unconscious lips the kiss
+You lured me on to think my rightful claim!
+O frail and puny woman! could you know
+The devil that you waken in the hearts
+You snare and bind in your enticing arts,
+The thin, pale stuff that in your veins doth flow
+Would freeze in terror.
+                         Strange you have such power
+To please, or pain us, poor, weak, soulless things--
+Devoid of passion as a senseless flower!
+Like butterflies, your only boast, your wings.
+There, now, I scorn you--scorn you from this hour,
+And hate myself for having talked of love!"
+
+He pushed me from him. And I felt as those
+Doomed angels must, when pearly gates above
+Are closed against them.
+                         With a feigned surprise
+I started up and opened wide my eyes,
+And looked about. Then in confusion rose
+And stood before him.
+
+                         "Pardon me, I pray!"
+He said quite coldly. "Half an hour ago
+I left you with the company below,
+And sought this cliff. A moment since you cried,
+It seemed, in sudden terror and alarm.
+I came in time to see you swoon away.
+You'll need assistance down the rugged side
+Of this steep cliff. I pray you take my arm."
+
+So, formal and constrained, we passed along,
+Rejoined our friends, and mingled with the throng
+To have no further speech again that day.
+
+Next morn there came a bulky document,
+The legal firm of Blank & Blank had sent,
+Containing news unlooked for. An estate
+Which proved a cosy fortune--no-wise great
+Or princely--had in France been left to me,
+My grandsire's last descendant. And it brought
+A sense of joy and freedom in the thought
+Of foreign travel, which I hoped would be
+A panacea for my troubled mind,
+That longed to leave the olden scenes behind
+With all their recollections, and to flee
+To some strange country.
+                         I was in such haste
+To put between me and my native land
+The briny ocean's desolating waste,
+I gave Aunt Ruth no peace, until she planned
+To sail that week, two months: though she was fain
+To wait until the Springtime. Roy Montaine
+Would be our guide and escort.
+                         No one dreamed
+The cause of my strange hurry, but all seemed
+To think good fortune had quite turned my brain.
+One bright October morning, when the woods
+Had donned their purple mantles and red hoods
+In honor of the Frost King, Vivian came,
+Bringing some green leaves, tipped with crimson flame,--
+First trophies of the Autumn time.
+                         And Roy
+Made a proposal that we all should go
+And ramble in the forest for a while.
+But Helen said she was not well--and so
+Must stay at home. Then Vivian, with a smile,
+Responded, "I will stay and talk to you,
+And they may go;" at which her two cheeks grew
+Like twin blush roses;--dyed with love's red wave,
+Her fair face shone transfigured with great joy.
+
+And Vivian saw--and suddenly was grave.
+
+Roy took my arm in that protecting way
+Peculiar to some men, which seems to say,
+"I shield my own," a manner pleasing, e'en
+When we are conscious that it does not mean
+More than a simple courtesy. A woman
+Whose heart is wholly feminine and human,
+And not unsexed by hobbies, likes to be
+The object of that tender chivalry,
+That guardianship which man bestows on her,
+Yet mixed with deference; as if she were
+Half child, half angel.
+                         Though she may be strong,
+Noble and self-reliant, not afraid
+To raise her hand and voice against all wrong
+And all oppression, yet if she be made,
+With all the independence of her thought,
+A woman womanly, as God designed,
+Albeit she may have as great a mind
+As man, her brother, yet his strength of arm
+His muscle and his boldness she has not,
+And cannot have without she loses what
+Is far more precious, modesty and grace.
+So, walking on in her appointed place,
+She does not strive to ape him, nor pretend
+But that she needs him for a guide and friend,
+To shield her with his greater strength from harm.
+
+We reached the forest; wandered to and fro
+Through many a winding path and dim retreat.
+Till I grew weary: when I chose a seat
+Upon an oak tree, which had been laid low
+By some wind storm, or by some lightning stroke.
+And Roy stood just below me, where the ledge
+On which I sat sloped steeply to the edge
+Of sunny meadows lying at my feet.
+One hand held mine; the other grasped a limb
+That cast its checkered shadows over him;
+And, with his head thrown back, his dark eyes raised
+And fixed upon me, silently he gazed
+Until I, smiling, turned to him and spoke:
+"Give words, my cousin, to those thoughts that rise,
+And, like dumb spirits, look forth from your eyes."
+
+The smooth and even darkness of his cheek
+Was stained one moment by a flush of red.
+He swayed his lithe form nearer as he stood
+Still clinging to the branch above his head.
+His brilliant eyes grew darker; and he said,
+With sudden passion, "Do you bid me speak?
+I can not, then, keep silence if I would.
+That hateful fortune, coming as it did,
+Forbade my speaking sooner; for I knew
+A harsh tongued world would quickly misconstrue
+My motive for a meaner one. But, sweet,
+So big my heart has grown with love for you
+I can not shelter it, or keep it hid.
+And so I cast it throbbing at your feet,
+For you to guard and cherish, or to break.
+Maurine, I love you better than my life.
+My friend--my cousin--be still more, my wife!
+Maurine, Maurine, what answer do you make?"
+
+I scarce could breathe for wonderment; and numb
+With truth that fell too suddenly, sat dumb
+With sheer amaze, and stared at Roy with eyes
+That looked no feeling but complete surprise.
+He swayed so near his breath was on my cheek.
+"Maurine, Maurine," he whispered, "will you speak?"
+
+Then suddenly, as o'er some magic glass
+One picture in a score of shapes will pass,
+I seemed to see Roy glide before my gaze.
+First, as the playmate of my earlier days--
+Next, as my kin--and then my valued friend,
+And last, my lover. As when colors blend
+In some unlooked-for group before our eyes,
+We hold the glass, and look them o'er and o'er
+So now I gazed on Roy in his new guise,
+In which he ne'er appeared to me before.
+
+His form was like a panther's in its grace,
+So lithe and supple, and of medium height,
+And garbed in all the elegance of fashion.
+His large black eyes were full of fire and passion,
+And in expression fearless, firm, and bright.
+His hair was like the very deeps of night,
+And hung in raven clusters 'round a face
+Of dark and flashing beauty.
+                         He was more
+Like some romantic maiden's grand ideal
+Than like a common being. As I gazed
+Upon the handsome face to mine upraised,
+I saw before me, living, breathing, real,
+The hero of my early day-dreams: though
+So full my heart was with that clear-cut face,
+Which, all unlike, yet claimed the hero's place,
+I had not recognized him so before,
+Or thought of him, save as a valued friend.
+So now I called him, adding,
+                         "Foolish boy!
+Each word of love you utter aims a blow
+At that sweet trust I had reposed in you.
+I was so certain I had found a true,
+Steadfast man friend, on whom I could depend,
+And go on wholly trusting, to the end.
+Why did you shatter my delusion, Roy,
+By turning to a lover?"
+                         "Why, indeed!
+Because I loved you more than any brother,
+Or any friend could love." Then he began
+To argue like a lawyer, and to plead
+With all his eloquence. And, listening,
+I strove to think it was a goodly thing
+To be so fondly loved by such a man,
+And it were best to give his wooing heed,
+And not deny him. Then before my eyes
+In all its clear-cut majesty, that other
+Haughty and poet-handsome face would rise
+And rob my purpose of all life and strength.
+
+Roy urged and argued, as Roy only could,
+With that impetuous, boyish eloquence.
+He held my hands, and vowed I must, and should
+Give some least hope; till, in my own defense,
+I turned upon him, and replied at length:
+"I thank you for the noble heart you offer:
+But it deserves a true one in exchange.
+I could love you if I loved not another
+Who keeps my heart; so I have none to proffer."
+
+Then, seeing how his dark eyes flashed, I said,
+"Dear Roy! I know my words seem very strange;
+But I love one I cannot hope to wed.
+A river rolls between us, dark and deep.
+To cross it--were to stain with blood my hand.
+You force my speech on what I fain would keep
+In my own bosom, but you understand?
+My heart is given to love that's sanctified,
+And now can feel no other.
+
+                         Be you kind
+Dear Roy, my brother! speak of this no more,
+Lest pleading and denying should divide
+The hearts so long united. Let me find
+In you my cousin and my friend of yore
+And now come home. The morning, all too soon
+And unperceived, has melted into noon.
+Helen will miss us, and we must return."
+
+He took my hand, and helped me to arise,
+Smiling upon me with his sad dark eyes.
+Where passion's fires had, sudden, ceased to burn.
+
+"And so," he said, "too soon and unforeseen
+My friendship melted into love, Maurine.
+But, sweet! I am not wholly in the blame,
+For what you term my folly. You forgot,
+So long we'd known each other, I had not
+In truth a brother's or a cousin's claim.
+But I remembered, when through every nerve
+Your lightest touch went thrilling; and began
+To love you with that human love of man
+For comely woman. By your coaxing arts,
+You won your way into my heart of hearts,
+And all Platonic feelings put to rout.
+A maid should never lay aside reserve
+With one who's not her kinsman, out and out.
+But as we now, with measured steps, retrace
+The path we came, e'en so my heart I'll send,
+At your command, back to the olden place,
+And strive to love you only as a friend."
+I felt the justice of his mild reproof,
+But answered laughing, "'Tis the same old cry:
+'The woman tempted me, and I did eat.'
+Since Adam's time we've heard it. But I'll try
+And be more prudent, sir, and hold aloof
+The fruit I never once had thought so sweet
+'Twould tempt you any. Now go dress for dinner,
+Thou sinned against! as also will the sinner.
+And guard each act, that no least look betray
+What's passed between us."
+                         Then I turned away
+And sought my room, low humming some old air
+That ceased upon the threshold; for mine eyes
+Fell on a face so glorified and fair
+All other senses, merged in that of sight,
+Were lost in contemplation of the bright
+And wond'rous picture, which had otherwise
+Made dim my vision.
+                         Waiting in my room,
+Her whole face lit as by an inward flame
+That shed its halo 'round her, Helen stood;
+Her fair hands folded like a lily's leaves
+Weighed down by happy dews of summer eves.
+Upon her cheek the color went and came
+As sunlight flickers o'er a bed of bloom;
+And, like some slim young sapling of the wood,
+Her slender form leaned slightly; and her hair
+Fell 'round her loosely, in long curling strands
+All unconfined, and as by loving hands
+Tossed into bright confusion.
+                         Standing there,
+Her starry eyes uplifted, she did seem
+Like some unearthly creature of a dream;
+Until she started forward, gliding slowly,
+And broke the breathless silence, speaking lowly,
+As one grown meek, and humble in an hour,
+Bowing before some new and mighty power.
+
+"Maurine, Maurine!" she murmured, and again,
+"Maurine, my own sweet friend, Maurine!"
+                         And then,
+Laying her love light hands upon my head,
+She leaned, and looked into my eyes, and said
+With voice that bore her joy in ev'ry tone,
+As winds that blow across a garden bed
+Are weighed with fragrance, "He is mine alone,
+And I am his--all his--his very own.
+So pledged this hour, by that most sacred tie
+Save one beneath God's over-arching sky.
+I could not wait to tell you of my bliss:
+I want your blessing, sweetheart! and your kiss."
+So hiding my heart's trouble with a smile,
+I leaned and kissed her dainty mouth; the while
+I felt a guilt-joy, as of some sweet sin,
+When my lips fell where his so late had been.
+And all day long I bore about with me
+A sense of shame--yet mixed with satisfaction,
+As some starved child might steal a loaf, and be
+Sad with the guilt resulting from her action,
+While yet the morsel in her mouth was sweet.
+That ev'ning when the house had settled down
+To sleep and quiet, to my room there crept
+A lithe young form, robed in a long white gown:
+With steps like fall of thistle-down she came,
+Her mouth smile-wreathed; and, breathing low my name,
+Nestled in graceful beauty at my feet.
+
+"Sweetheart," she murmured softly, "ere I sleep,
+I needs must tell you all my tale of joy.
+Beginning where you left us--you and Roy.
+You saw the color flame upon my cheek
+When Vivian spoke of staying. So did he;--
+And, when we were alone, he gazed at me
+With such a strange look in his wond'rous eyes.
+The silence deepened; and I tried to speak
+Upon some common topic, but could not,
+My heart was in such tumult.
+                         In this wise
+Five happy moments glided by us, fraught
+With hours of feeling. Vivian rose up then,
+And came and stood by me, and stroked my hair.
+And, in his low voice, o'er and o'er again,
+Said, 'Helen, little Helen, frail and fair.'
+Then took my face, and turned it to the light,
+And looking in my eyes, and seeing what
+Was shining from them, murmured, sweet and low,
+'Dear eyes, you cannot veil the truth from sight.
+You love me, Helen! answer, is it so?'
+And I made answer straightway, 'With my life
+And soul and strength I love you, O my love!'
+He leaned and took me gently to his breast,
+And said, 'Here then this dainty head shall rest
+Henceforth forever: O my little dove!
+My lily-bud--my fragile blossom-wife!'
+
+"And then I told him all my thoughts; and he
+Listened, with kisses for his comments, till
+My tale was finished. Then he said, 'I will
+Be frank with you, my darling, from the start,
+And hide no secret from you in my heart.
+I love you, Helen, but you are not first
+To rouse that love to being. Ere we met
+I loved a woman madly--never dreaming
+She was not all in truth she was in seeming.
+Enough! she proved to be that thing accursed
+Of God and man--a wily vain coquette.
+I hate myself for having loved her. Yet
+So much my heart spent on her, it must give
+A love less ardent, and less prodigal,
+Albeit just as tender and as true--
+A milder, yet a faithful love to you.
+Just as some evil fortune might befall
+A man's great riches, causing him to live
+In some low cot, all unpretending, still
+As much his home--as much his loved retreat,
+As was the princely palace on the hill,
+E'en so I give you all that's left, my sweet!
+Of my heart-fortune.'
+                         'That were more to me,'
+I made swift smiling answer, 'than to be
+The worshiped consort of a king.' And so
+Our faith was pledged. But Vivian would not go
+Until I vowed to wed him New Year day.
+And I am sad because you go away
+Before that time. I shall not feel half wed
+Without you here. Postpone your trip and stay,
+And be my bridesmaid."
+                         "Nay, I cannot, dear!
+'Twould disarrange our plans for half a year.
+I'll be in Europe New Year day," I said,
+"And send congratulations by the cable."
+And from my soul thanked Providence for sparing
+The pain, to me, of sharing in, and wearing
+The festal garments of a wedding scene,
+While all my heart was hung with sorrow's sable.
+Forgetting for a season, that between
+The cup and lip lies many a chance of loss,
+I lived in my near future, confident
+All would be as I planned it; and, across
+The briny waste of waters, I should find
+Some balm and comfort for my troubled mind.
+The sad Fall days, like maidens auburn-tressed
+And amber-eyed, in purple garments dressed,
+Passed by, and dropped their tears upon the tomb
+Of fair Queen Summer, buried in her bloom.
+
+Roy left us for a time, and Helen went
+To make the nuptial preparations. Then,
+Aunt Ruth complained one day of feeling ill:
+Her veins ran red with fever; and the skill
+Of two physicians could not stem the tide.
+The house, that rang so late with laugh and jest,
+Grew ghostly with low whispered sounds; and when
+The Autumn day, that I had thought to be
+Bounding upon the billows of the sea,
+Came sobbing in, it found me pale and worn,
+Striving to keep away that unloved guest
+Who comes unbidden, making hearts to mourn.
+Through all the anxious weeks I watched beside
+The suff'rer's couch, Roy was my help and stay;
+Others were kind, but he alone each day
+Brought strength and comfort, by his cheerful face,
+And hopeful words, that fell in that sad place
+Like rays of light upon a darkened way.
+November passed; and Winter, crisp and chill,
+In robes of ermine walked on plain and hill.
+Returning light and life dispelled the gloom
+That cheated Death had brought us from the tomb.
+Aunt Ruth was saved, and slowly getting better--
+Was dressed each day, and walked about the room.
+Then came one morning in the Eastern mail,
+A little white-winged birdling of a letter.
+I broke the seal and read,
+                         "Maurine, my own!
+I hear Aunt Ruth is better, and am glad.
+I felt so sorry for you; and so sad
+To think I left you when I did--alone
+To bear your pain and worry, and those nights
+Of weary, anxious watching.
+                         Vivian writes
+Your plans are changed now, and you will not sail
+Before the Springtime. So you'll come and be
+My bridesmaid, darling! Do not say me nay.
+But three weeks more of girlhood left to me.
+Come, if you can, just two weeks from to-day,
+And make your preparations here. My sweet!
+Indeed I am not glad Aunt Ruth was ill--
+I'm sorry she has suffered so; and still
+I'm thankful something happened, so you stayed.
+I'm sure my wedding would be incomplete
+Without your presence. Selfish, I'm afraid
+You'll think your Helen. But I love you so,
+How can I be quite willing you should go?
+Come Christmas Eve, or earlier. Let me know
+And I will meet you, dearie! at the train.
+Your happy, loving Helen."
+                         Then the pain
+That, hidden under later pain and care,
+Had made no moan, but silent, seemed to sleep,
+Woke from its trance-like lethargy, to steep
+My tortured heart in anguish and despair.
+
+I had relied too fully on my skill
+In bending circumstances to my will:
+And now I was rebuked and made to see
+That God alone knoweth what is to be.
+Then came a messenger from Vivian, who
+Came not himself, as he was wont to do,
+But sent his servant each new day to bring
+A kindly message, or an offering
+Of juicy fruits to cool the lips of fever,
+Or dainty hot-house blossoms, with their bloom
+To brighten up the convalescent's room.
+But now the servant only brought a line
+From Vivian Dangerfield to Roy Montaine,
+"Dear Sir, and Friend"--in letters bold and plain,
+Written on cream-white paper, so it ran:
+"It is the will and pleasure of Miss Trevor,
+And therefore doubly so a wish of mine,
+That you shall honor me next New Year Eve,
+My wedding hour, by standing as best man.
+Miss Trevor has six bridesmaids I believe.
+Being myself a novice in the art--
+If I should fail in acting well my part,
+I'll need protection 'gainst the regiment
+Of outraged ladies. So, I pray, consent
+To stand by me in time of need, and shield
+Your friend sincerely, Vivian Dangerfield."
+
+The last least hope had vanished; I must drain,
+E'en to the dregs, this bitter cup of pain.
+
+
+_PART VI._
+
+There was a week of bustle and of hurry;
+A stately home echoed to voices sweet,
+Calling, replying; and to tripping feet
+Of busy bridesmaids, running to and fro,
+With all that girlish fluttering and flurry
+Preceding such occasions.
+                         Helen's room
+Was like a lily-garden, all in bloom,
+Decked with the dainty robes of her trousseau.
+My robe was fashioned by swift, skillful hands--
+A thing of beauty, elegant and rich,
+A mystery of loopings, puffs and bands;
+And as I watched it growing, stitch by stitch,
+I felt as one might feel who should behold
+With vision trance-like, where his body lay
+In deathly slumber, simulating clay,
+His grave-cloth sewed together, fold on fold.
+
+I lived with ev'ry nerve upon the strain,
+As men go into battle; and the pain,
+That, more and more, to my sad heart revealed,
+Grew ghastly with its horrors, was concealed
+From mortal eyes by superhuman power,
+That God bestowed upon me, hour by hour.
+
+What night the Old Year gave unto the New
+The key of human happiness and woe,
+The pointed stars, upon their field of blue,
+Shone, white and perfect, o'er a world below,
+Of snow-clad beauty; all the trees were dressed
+In gleaming garments, decked with diadems,
+Each seeming like a bridal-bidden guest,
+Coming o'er-laden with a gift of gems.
+
+The bustle of the dressing room; the sound
+Of eager voices in discourse; the clang
+Of "sweet bells jangled"; thud of steel-clad feet
+That beat swift music on the frozen ground--
+All blent together in my brain, and rang
+A medley of strange noises, incomplete,
+And full of discords.
+                         Then out on the night
+Streamed from this open vestibule, a light
+That lit the velvet blossoms which we trod,
+With all the hues of those that deck the sod.
+The grand cathedral windows were ablaze
+With gorgeous colors; through a sea of bloom,
+Up the long aisle, to join the waiting groom,
+The bridal cortege passed.
+                         As some lost soul
+Might surge on with the curious crowd, to gaze
+Upon its coffined body, so I went
+With that glad festal throng. The organ sent
+Great waves of melody along the air,
+That broke and fell, in liquid drops, like spray,
+On happy hearts that listened. But to me
+It sounded faintly, as if miles away,
+A troubled spirit, sitting in despair
+Beside the sad and ever-moaning sea,
+Gave utterance to sighing sounds of dole.
+We paused before the altar. Framed in flowers,
+The white-robed man of God stood forth.
+                         I heard
+The solemn service open; through long hours
+I seemed to stand and listen, while each word
+Fell on my ear as falls the sound of clay
+Upon the coffin of the worshiped dead.
+The stately father gave the bride away:
+The bridegroom circled with a golden band
+The taper finger of her dainty hand.
+The last imposing, binding words were said--
+"What God has joined let no man put asunder"--
+And all my strife with self was at an end;
+My lover was the husband of my friend.
+
+How strangely, in some awful hour of pain,
+External trifles with our sorrows blend!
+I never hear the mighty organ's thunder,
+I never catch the scent of heliotrope,
+Nor see stained windows all ablaze with light,
+Without that dizzy whirling of the brain,
+And all the ghastly feeling of that night,
+When my sick heart relinquished love and hope.
+
+The pain we feel so keenly may depart,
+And e'en its memory cease to haunt the heart;
+But some slight thing, a perfume, or a sound
+Will probe the closed recesses of the wound,
+And for a moment bring the old-time smart.
+
+Congratulations, kisses, tears and smiles,
+Good-byes and farewells given; then across
+The snowy waste of weary wintry miles,
+Back to my girlhood's home, where, through each room,
+For evermore pale phantoms of delight
+Should aimless wander, always in my sight,
+Pointing, with ghostly fingers, to the tomb
+Wet with the tears of living pain and loss.
+
+The sleepless nights of watching and of care,
+Followed by that one week of keenest pain,
+Taxing my weakened system, and my brain,
+Brought on a ling'ring illness.
+                         Day by day,
+In that strange, apathetic state I lay,
+Of mental and of physical despair.
+I had no pain, no fever, and no chill,
+But lay without ambition, strength, or will,
+Knowing no wish for anything but rest,
+Which seemed, of all God's store of gifts, the best.
+
+Physicians came and shook their heads and sighed;
+And to their score of questions I replied,
+With but one languid answer, o'er and o'er.
+"I am so weary--weary--nothing more."
+
+I slept, and dreamed I was some feathered thing,
+Flying through space with ever-aching wing,
+Seeking a ship called Rest all snowy white,
+That sailed and sailed before me, just in sight,
+But always one unchanging distance kept,
+And woke more weary than before I slept.
+
+I slept, and dreamed I ran to win a prize.
+A hand from heaven held down before my eyes.
+All eagerness I sought it--it was gone,
+But shone in all its beauty farther on.
+I ran, and ran, and ran, in eager quest
+Of that great prize, whereon was written "rest,"
+Which ever just beyond my reach did gleam,
+And wakened doubly weary with my dream.
+
+I dreamed I was a crystal drop of rain,
+That saw a snow-white lily on the plain,
+And left the cloud to nestle in her breast.
+I fell and fell, but nevermore found rest--
+I fell and fell, but found no stopping place,
+Through leagues and leagues of never-ending space,
+While space illimitable stretched before.
+
+And all these dreams but wearied me the more.
+
+Familiar voices sounded in my room--
+Aunt Ruth's and Roy's, and Helen's: but they seemed
+A part of some strange fancy I had dreamed,
+And now remembered dimly.
+                         Wrapped in gloom,
+My mind, o'er taxed, lost hold of time at last,
+Ignored its future, and forgot its past,
+And groped along the present, as a light,
+Carried, uncovered, through the fogs of night,
+Will flicker faintly.
+                         But I felt, at length,
+When March winds brought vague rumors of the spring,
+A certain sense of "restlessness with rest."
+My aching frame was weary of repose,
+And wanted action.
+
+                         Then slow-creeping strength
+Came back with Mem'ry, hand in hand, to bring
+And lay upon my sore and bleeding breast,
+Grim-visaged Recollection's thorny rose.
+I gained, and failed. One day could ride and walk,
+The next would find me prostrate: while a flock
+Of ghostly thoughts, like phantom birds, would flit
+About the chambers of my heart, or sit,
+Pale spectres of the past, with folded wings,
+Perched, silently, upon the voiceless strings,
+That once resounded to Hope's happy lays.
+
+So passed the ever-changing April days.
+When May came, lightsome footed, o'er the lea,
+Accompanied by kind Aunt Ruth and Roy,
+I bade farewell to home with secret joy,
+And turned my wan face eastward to the sea.
+Roy planned our route of travel: for all lands
+Were one to him. Or Egypt's burning sands,
+Or Alps of Switzerland, or stately Rome,
+All were familiar as the fields of home.
+
+There was a year of wand'ring to and fro,
+Like restless spirits; scaling mountain heights;
+Dwelling among the countless, rare delights
+Of lands historic; turning dusty pages,
+Stamped with the tragedies of mighty ages;
+Gazing upon the scenes of bloody acts,
+Of kings long buried--bare, unvarnished facts,
+Surpassing wildest fictions of the brain;
+Rubbing against all people, high and low,
+And by this contact feeling Self to grow
+Smaller and less important, and the vein
+Of human kindness deeper, seeing God,
+Unto the humble delver of the sod,
+And to the ruling monarch on the throne,
+Has given hope, ambition, joy, and pain,
+And that all hearts have feelings like our own.
+
+There is no school that disciplines the mind,
+And broadens thought, like contact with mankind.
+The college-prisoned greybeard, who has burned
+The midnight lamp, and book-bound knowledge learned,
+Till sciences or classics hold no lore
+He has not conned and studied, o'er and o'er,
+Is but a babe in wisdom, when compared
+With some unlettered wand'rer, who has shared
+The hospitalities of every land;
+Felt touch of brother in each proffered hand;
+Made man his study, and the world his college,
+And gained this grand epitome of knowledge:
+Each human being has a heart and soul,
+And self is but an atom of the whole.
+I hold he is best learnčd and most wise,
+Who best and most can love and sympathize.
+Book-wisdom makes us vain and self-contained;
+Our banded minds go round in little grooves;
+But constant friction with the world removes
+These iron foes to freedom, and we rise
+To grander heights, and, all untrammeled, find
+A better atmosphere and clearer skies;
+And through its broadened realm, no longer chained,
+Thought travels freely, leaving Self behind.
+Where'er we chanced to wander or to roam,
+Glad letters came from Helen; happy things,
+Like little birds that followed on swift wings,
+Bringing their tender messages from home.
+Her days were poems, beautiful, complete.
+The rhythm perfect, and the burden sweet.
+She was so happy--happy, and so blest.
+
+My heart had found contentment in that year.
+With health restored, my life seemed full of cheer
+The heart of youth turns ever to the light;
+Sorrow and gloom may curtain it like night,
+But, in its very anguish and unrest,
+It beats and tears the pall-like folds away,
+And finds again the sunlight of the day.
+
+And yet, despite the changes without measure,
+Despite sight-seeing, round on round of pleasure;
+Despite new friends, new suitors, still my heart
+Was conscious of a something lacking, where
+Love once had dwelt, and afterward despair.
+Now love was buried; and despair had flown
+Before the healthful zephyrs that had blown
+From heights serene and lofty; and the place
+Where both had dwelt, was empty, voiceless space
+And so I took my long-loved study, art,
+The dreary vacuum in my life to fill,
+And worked, and labored, with a right good will.
+Aunt Ruth and I took rooms in Rome; while Roy
+Lingered in Scotland, with his new-found joy.
+A dainty little lassie, Grace Kildare,
+Had snared him in her flossy, flaxen hair,
+And made him captive.
+                         We were thrown, by chance,
+In contact with her people while in France
+The previous season: she was wholly sweet
+And fair and gentle; so näive, and yet
+So womanly, she was at once the pet
+Of all our party; and, ere many days,
+Won by her fresh face, and her artless ways,
+Roy fell a helpless captive at her feet.
+Her home was in the Highlands; and she came
+Of good old stock, of fair untarnished fame.
+
+Through all these months Roy had been true as steel;
+And by his every action made me feel
+He was my friend and brother, and no more.
+The same big-souled and trusty friend of yore.
+Yet, in my secret heart, I wished I knew
+Whether the love he felt one time was dead,
+Or only hidden, for my sake, from view.
+So when he came to me one day, and said,
+The velvet blackness of his eyes ashine
+With light of love and triumph: "Cousin, mine,
+Congratulate me! She whom I adore
+Has pledged to me the promise of her hand;
+Her heart I have already," I was glad
+With double gladness, for it freed my mind
+Of fear that he, in secret, might be sad.
+
+From March till June had left her moons behind,
+And merged her rose-red beauty in July,
+There was no message from my native land.
+Then came a few brief lines, by Vivian penned:
+Death had been near to Helen, but passed by;
+The danger was now over. God was kind;
+The mother and the child were both alive;
+No other child was ever known to thrive
+As throve this one, nurse had been heard to say.
+The infant was a wonder, every way.
+And, at command of Helen he would send
+A lock of baby's golden hair to me.
+And did I, on my honor, ever see
+Such hair before? Helen would write, ere long:
+She gained quite slowly, but would soon be strong--
+Stronger than ever, so the doctors said.
+I took the tiny ringlet, golden--fair,
+Mayhap his hand had severed from the head
+Of his own child, and pressed it to my cheek
+And to my lips, and kissed it o'er and o'er.
+All my maternal instincts seemed to rise,
+And clamor for their rights, while my wet eyes,
+Rained tears upon the silken tress of hair.
+The woman struggled with her heart before!
+It was the mother in me now did speak,
+Moaning, like Rachel, that her babes were not,
+And crying out against her barren lot.
+
+Once I bemoaned the long and lonely years
+That stretched before me, dark with love's eclipse;
+And thought how my unmated heart would miss
+The shelter of a broad and manly breast--
+The strong, bold arm--the tender clinging kiss--
+And all pure love's possessions, manifold;
+But now I wept a flood of bitter tears,
+Thinking of little heads of shining gold,
+That would not on my bosom sink to rest;
+Of little hands that would not touch my cheek;
+Of little lisping voices, and sweet lips,
+That never in my list'ning ear would speak
+The blessed name of mother.
+                         Oh, in woman
+How mighty is the love of offspring! Ere
+Unto her wond'ring, untaught mind unfolds
+The myst'ry that is half divine, half human,
+Of life and birth, the love of unborn souls
+Within her, and the mother-yearning creeps
+Through her warm heart, and stirs its hidden deeps,
+And grows and strengthens with each riper year.
+
+As storms may gather in a placid sky,
+And spend their fury, and then pass away,
+Leaving again the blue of cloudless day,
+E'en so the tempest of my grief passed by.
+'T was weak to mourn for what I had resigned,
+With the deliberate purpose of my mind,
+To my sweet friend.
+                         Relinquishing my love,
+I gave my dearest hope of joy to her.
+If God, from out his boundless store above,
+Had chosen added blessings to confer,
+I would rejoice, for her sake--not repine
+That th' immortal treasures were not mine.
+
+Better my lonely sorrow, than to know
+My selfish joy had been another's woe;
+Better my grief and my strength to control,
+Than the despair of her frail-bodied soul;
+Better to go on, loveless, to the end,
+Than wear love's rose, whose thorn had slain my friend.
+
+Work is the salve that heals the wounded heart.
+With will most resolute I set my aim
+To enter on the weary race for Fame,
+And if I failed to climb the dizzy height,
+To reach some point of excellence in art.
+
+E'en as the Maker held earth incomplete,
+Till man was formed, and placed upon the sod,
+The perfect, living image of his God,
+All landscape scenes were lacking in my sight,
+Wherein the human figure had no part.
+In that, all lines of symmetry did meet--
+All hues of beauty mingle. So I brought
+Enthusiasm in abundance, thought,
+Much study, and some talent, day by day,
+To help me in my efforts to portray
+The wond'rous power, majesty and grace
+Stamped on some form, or looking from some face.
+This was to be my specialty: To take
+Human emotion for my theme, and make
+The unassisted form divine express
+Anger or Sorrow, Pleasure, Pain, Distress;
+And thus to build Fame's monument above
+The grave of my departed hope and love.
+
+This is not Genius. Genius spreads its wings
+And soars beyond itself, or selfish things.
+Talent has need of stepping-stones: some cross,
+Some cheated purpose, some great pain or loss,
+Must lay the groundwork, and arouse ambition,
+Before it labors onward to fruition.
+
+But, as the lark from beds of bloom will rise
+And sail and sing among the very skies,
+Still mounting near and nearer to the light,
+Impelled alone by love of upward flight,
+So Genius soars--it does not need to climb--
+Upon God-given wings, to heights sublime.
+Some sportman's shot, grazing the singer's throat,
+Some venomous assault of birds of prey,
+May speed its flight toward the realm of day,
+And tinge with triumph every liquid note.
+So deathless Genius mounts but higher yet,
+When Strife and Envy think to slay or fret.
+
+There is no balking Genius. Only death
+Can silence it, or hinder. While there's breath
+Or sense of feeling, it will spurn the sod,
+And lift itself to glory, and to God.
+The acorn sprouted--weeds nor flowers can choke
+The certain growth of th' upreaching oak.
+
+Talent was mine, not Genius; and my mind
+Seemed bound by chains, and would not leave behind
+Its selfish love and sorrow.
+                         Did I strive
+To picture some emotion, lo! _his_ eyes,
+Of emerald beauty, dark as ocean dyes,
+Looked from the canvas: and my buried pain
+Rose from its grave, and stood by me alive.
+Whate'er my subject, in some hue or line,
+The glorious beauty of his face would shine.
+
+So for a time my labor seemed in vain,
+Since it but freshened, and made keener yet,
+The grief my heart was striving to forget.
+
+While in his form all strength and magnitude
+With grace and supple sinews were entwined,
+While in his face all beauties were combined
+Of perfect features, intellect and truth,
+With all that fine rich coloring of youth,
+How could my brush portray aught good or fair
+Wherein no fatal likeness should intrude
+Of him my soul had worshiped?
+                         But, at last,
+Setting a watch upon my unwise heart
+That thus would mix its sorrow with my art,
+I resolutely shut away the past,
+And made the toilsome present passing bright
+With dreams of what was hidden from my sight
+In the far distant future, when the soil
+Should yield me golden fruit for all my toil.
+
+
+_PART VII._
+
+With much hard labor and some pleasure fraught,
+The months rolled by me noiselessly, that taught
+My hand to grow more skillful in its art,
+Strengthened my daring dream of fame, and brought
+Sweet hope and resignation to my heart.
+
+Brief letters came from Helen, now and then:
+She was quite well--oh, yes! quite well, indeed!
+But still so weak and nervous. By and by,
+When baby, being older, should not need
+Such constant care, she would grow strong again.
+She was as happy as a soul could be;
+No least cloud hovered in her azure sky;
+She had not thought life held such depths of bliss.
+Dear baby sent Maurine a loving kiss,
+And said she was a naughty, naughty girl,
+Not to come home and see ma's little pearl.
+
+No gift of costly jewels, or of gold,
+Had been so precious or so dear to me,
+As each brief line wherein her joy was told.
+It lightened toil, and took the edge from pain,
+Knowing my sacrifice was not in vain.
+
+Roy purchased fine estates in Scotland, where
+He built a pretty villa-like retreat.
+And when the Roman Summer's languid heat
+Made work a punishment, I turned my face
+Toward the Highlands, and with Roy and Grace
+Found rest and freedom from all thought and care.
+
+I was a willing worker. Not an hour
+Passed idly by me: each, I would employ
+To some good purpose, ere it glided on
+To swell the tide of hours forever gone.
+My first completed picture, known as "Joy,"
+Won pleasant words of praise. "Possesses power,"
+"Displays much talent," "Very fairly done."
+So fell the comments on my grateful ear.
+
+Swift in the wake of Joy, and always near,
+Walks her sad sister Sorrow. So my brush
+Began depicting sorrow, heavy-eyed,
+With pallid visage, ere the rosy flush
+Upon the beaming face of Joy had dried.
+The careful study of long months, it won
+Golden opinions; even bringing forth
+That certain sign of merit--a critique
+Which set both pieces down as daubs, and weak
+As empty heads that sang their praises--so
+Proving conclusively the pictures' worth.
+These critics and reviewers do not use
+Their precious ammunition to abuse
+A worthless work. That, left alone, they know
+Will find its proper level; and they aim
+Their batteries at rising works which claim
+Too much of public notice. But this shot
+Resulted only in some noise, which brought
+A dozen people, where one came before
+To view my pictures; and I had my hour
+Of holding those frail baubles, Fame and Pow'r.
+An English Baron who had lived two score
+Of his allotted three score years and ten,
+Bought both the pieces. He was very kind,
+And so attentive, I, not being blind,
+Must understand his meaning.
+                         Therefore, when
+He said,
+    "Sweet friend, whom I would make my wife,
+The 'Joy' and 'Sorrow' this dear hand portrayed
+I have in my possession: now resign
+Into my careful keeping, and make mine,
+The joy and sorrow of your future life,"--
+I was prepared to answer, but delayed,
+Grown undecided suddenly.
+                         My mind
+Argued the matter coolly pro and con,
+And made resolve to speed his wooing on
+And grant him favor. He was good and kind;
+Not young, no doubt he would be quite content
+With my respect, nor miss an ardent love;
+Could give me ties of family and home;
+And then, perhaps, my mind was not above
+Setting some value on a titled name--
+Ambitious woman's weakness!
+                         Then my art
+Would be encouraged and pursued the same,
+And I could spend my winters all in Rome.
+Love never more could touch my wasteful heart
+That all its wealth upon one object spent.
+Existence would be very bleak and cold,
+After long years, when I was gray and old,
+With neither home nor children.
+                         Once a wife,
+I would forget the sorrow of my life,
+And pile new sods upon the grave of pain.
+My mind so argued; and my sad heart heard,
+But made no comment.
+                         Then the Baron spoke,
+And waited for my answer. All in vain
+I strove for strength to utter that one word
+My mind dictated. Moments rolled away--
+Until at last my torpid heart awoke,
+And forced my trembling lips to say him nay.
+And then my eyes with sudden tears o'erran,
+In pity for myself and for this man
+Who stood before me, lost in pained surprise.
+"Dear friend," I cried, "Dear generous friend forgive
+A troubled woman's weakness! As I live,
+In truth I meant to answer otherwise.
+From out its store, my heart can give you naught
+But honor and respect; and yet methought
+I would give willing answer, did you sue.
+But now I know 'twere cruel wrong I planned;
+Taking a heart that beat with love most true,
+And giving in exchange an empty hand.
+Who weds for love alone, may not be wise:
+Who weds without it, angels must despise.
+Love and respect together must combine
+To render marriage holy and divine;
+And lack of either, sure as Fate, destroys
+Continuation of the nuptial joys,
+And brings regret, and gloomy discontent,
+To put to rout each tender sentiment.
+Nay, nay! I will not burden all your life
+By that possession--an unloving wife;
+Nor will I take the sin upon my soul
+Of wedding where my heart goes not in whole.
+However bleak may be my single lot,
+I will not stain my life with such a blot.
+Dear friend, farewell! the earth is very wide;
+It holds some fairer woman for your bride;
+I would I had a heart to give to you,
+But, lacking it, can only say--adieu!"
+
+He whom temptation never has assailed,
+Knows not that subtle sense of moral strength;
+When sorely tried, we waver, but at length,
+Rise up and turn away, not having failed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Autumn of the third year came and went;
+The mild Italian winter was half spent,
+When this brief message came across the sea:
+"My darling! I am dying. Come to me.
+Love, which so long the growing truth concealed,
+Stands pale within its shadow. O, my sweet!
+This heart of mine grows fainter with each beat--
+Dying with very weight of bliss. O, come!
+And take the legacy I leave to you,
+Before these lips forevermore are dumb.
+In life or death, Yours, Helen Dangerfield."
+
+This plaintive letter bore a month old date;
+And, wild with fears lest I had come too late,
+I bade the old world and new friends adieu.
+And with Aunt Ruth, who long had sighed for home,
+I turned my back on glory, art, and Rome.
+
+All selfish thoughts were merged in one wild fear
+That she for whose dear sake my heart had bled,
+Rather than her sweet eyes should know one tear,
+Was passing from me; that she might be dead;
+And, dying, had been sorely grieved with me,
+Because I made no answer to her plea.
+
+"O, ship, that sailest slowly, slowly on,
+Make haste before a wasting life is gone!
+Make haste that I may catch a fleeting breath!
+And true in life, be true e'en unto death.
+
+"O, ship, sail on! and bear me o'er the tide
+To her for whom my woman's heart once died.
+Sail, sail, O, ship! for she hath need of me,
+And I would know what her last wish may be!
+I have been true, so true, through all the past,
+Sail, sail, O, ship! I would not fail at last."
+
+So prayed my heart still o'er, and ever o'er,
+Until the weary lagging ship reached shore.
+All sad with fears that I had come too late,
+By that strange source whence men communicate,
+Though miles on miles of space between them lie,
+I spoke with Vivian: "Does she live? Reply."
+The answer came. "She lives, but hasten, friend!
+Her journey draweth swiftly to its end."
+
+Ah me! ah me! when each remembered spot,
+My own dear home, the lane that led to his--
+The fields, the woods, the lake, burst on my sight,
+Oh! then, Self rose up in asserting might;
+Oh, then, my bursting heart all else forgot,
+But those sweet early years of lost delight,
+Of hope, defeat, of anguish and of bliss.
+
+I have a theory, vague, undefined,
+That each emotion of the human mind,
+Love, pain or passion, sorrow or despair,
+Is a live spirit, dwelling in the air,
+Until it takes possession of some breast;
+And, when at length, grown weary of unrest,
+We rise up strong and cast it from the heart,
+And bid it leave us wholly, and depart,
+It does not die, it cannot die; but goes
+And mingles with some restless wind that blows
+About the region where it had its birth.
+And though we wander over all the earth,
+That spirit waits, and lingers, year by year,
+Invisible, and clothčd like the air,
+Hoping that we may yet again draw near,
+And it may haply take us unaware,
+And once more find safe shelter in the breast
+It stirred of old with pleasure or unrest.
+
+Told by my heart, and wholly positive,
+Some old emotion long had ceased to live;
+That, were it called, it could not hear or come,
+Because it was so voiceless and so dumb,
+Yet, passing where it first sprang into life,
+My very soul has suddenly been rife
+With all the old intensity of feeling.
+It seemed a living spirit, which came stealing
+Into my heart from that departed day;
+Exiled emotion, which I fancied clay.
+
+So now into my troubled heart, above
+The present's pain and sorrow, crept the love
+And strife and passion of a by-gone hour,
+Possessed of all their olden might and power.
+'T was but a moment, and the spell was broken
+By pleasant words of greeting, gently spoken,
+And Vivian stood before us.
+                         But I saw
+In him the husband of my friend alone.
+The old emotions might at times return,
+And smold'ring fires leap up an hour and burn;
+But never yet had I transgressed God's law,
+By looking on the man I had resigned,
+With any hidden feeling in my mind,
+Which she, his wife, my friend, might not have known.
+He was but little altered. From his face
+The nonchalant and almost haughty grace,
+The lurking laughter waiting in his eyes,
+The years had stolen, leaving in their place
+A settled sadness, which was not despair,
+Nor was it gloom, nor weariness, nor care,
+But something like the vapor o'er the skies
+Of Indian summer, beautiful to see,
+But spoke of frosts, which had been and would be.
+There was that in his face which cometh not,
+Save when the soul has many a battle fought,
+And conquered self by constant sacrifice.
+
+There are two sculptors, who, with chisels fine,
+Render the plainest features half divine.
+All other artists strive and strive in vain,
+To picture beauty perfect and complete.
+Their statues only crumble at their feet,
+Without the master touch of Faith and Pain.
+And now his face, that perfect seemed before,
+Chiseled by these two careful artists, wore
+A look exalted, which the spirit gives
+When soul has conquered, and the body lives
+Subservient to its bidding.
+
+                         In a room
+Which curtained out the February gloom,
+And, redolent with perfume, bright with flowers,
+Rested the eye like one of Summer's bowers,
+I found my Helen, who was less mine now
+Than Death's; for on the marble of her brow,
+His seal was stamped indelibly.
+                         Her form
+Was like the slendor willow, when some storm
+Has stripped it bare of foliage. Her face,
+Pale always, now was ghastly in its hue:
+And, like two lamps, in some dark, hollow place,
+Burned her large eyes, grown more intensely blue.
+Her fragile hands displayed each cord and vein,
+And on her mouth was that drawn look, of pain
+Which is not uttered. Yet an inward light
+Shone through and made her wasted features bright
+With an unearthly beauty; and an awe
+Crept o'er me, gazing on her, for I saw
+She was so near to Heaven that I seemed
+To look upon the face of one redeemed.
+She turned the brilliant luster of her eyes
+Upon me. She had passed beyond surprise,
+Or any strong emotion linked with clay.
+But as I glided to her where she lay,
+A smile, celestial in its sweetness, wreathed
+Her pallid features. "Welcome home!" she breathed,
+"Dear hands! dear lips! I touch you and rejoice."
+And like the dying echo of a voice
+Were her faint tones that thrilled upon my ear.
+
+I fell upon my knees beside her bed;
+All agonies within my heart were wed,
+While to the aching numbness of my grief,
+Mine eyes refused the solace of a tear,--
+The tortured soul's most merciful relief.
+Her wasted hand caressed my bended head
+For one sad, sacred moment. Then she said,
+In that low tone so like the wind's refrain,
+"Maurine, my own! give not away to pain;
+The time is precious. Ere another dawn
+My soul may hear the summons and pass on.
+Arise, sweet sister! rest a little while,
+And when refreshed, come hither. I grow weak
+With every hour that passes. I must speak
+And make my dying wishes known to-night.
+Go now." And in the halo of her smile,
+Which seemed to fill the room with golden light,
+I turned and left her.
+                         Later in the gloom,
+Of coming night, I entered that dim room,
+And sat down by her. Vivian held her hand:
+And on the pillow at her side, there smiled
+The beauteous count'nance of a sleeping child.
+
+"Maurine," spoke Helen, "for three blissful years,
+My heart has dwelt in an enchanted land;
+And I have drank the sweetened cup of joy,
+Without one drop of anguish or alloy.
+And so, ere Pain embitters it with gall,
+Or sad-eyed Sorrow fills it full of tears,
+And bids me quaff, which is the Fate of all
+Who linger long upon this troubled way,
+God takes me to the realm of Endless Day,
+To mingle with his angels, who alone
+Can understand such bliss as I have known.
+I do not murmur. God has heaped my measure,
+In three short years, full to the brim with pleasure;
+And, from the fullness of an earthly love,
+I pass to th' Immortal arms above,
+Before I even brush the skirts of Woe.
+
+"I leave my aged parents here below,
+With none to comfort them. Maurine, sweet friend!
+Be kind to them, and love them to the end,
+Which may not be far distant.
+                         And I leave
+A soul immortal in your charge, Maurine.
+From this most holy, sad and sacred eve,
+Till God shall claim her, she is yours to keep,
+To love and shelter, to protect and guide."
+She touched the slumb'ring cherub at her side,
+And Vivian gently bore her, still asleep,
+And laid the precious burden on my breast.
+
+A solemn silence fell upon the scene.
+And when the sleeping infant smiled, and pressed
+My yielding bosom with her waxen cheek,
+I felt it would be sacrilege to speak,
+Such wordless joy possessed me.
+                         Oh! at last
+This infant, who, in that tear-blotted past,
+Had caused my soul such travail, was my own:
+Through all the lonely coming years to be
+Mine own to cherish--wholly mine alone.
+And what I mourned, so hopelessly as lost
+Was now restored, and given back to me.
+
+The dying voice continued:
+                         "In this child
+You yet have me, whose mortal life she cost.
+But all that was most pure and undefiled,
+And good within me, lives in her again.
+Maurine, my husband loves me; yet I know,
+Moving about the wide world, to and fro,
+And through, and in the busy haunts of men,
+Not always will his heart be dumb with woe,
+But sometime waken to a later love.
+Nay, Vivian, hush! my soul has passed above
+All selfish feelings! I would have it so.
+While I am with the angels, blest and glad,
+I would not have you sorrowing and sad,
+In loneliness go mourning to the end.
+But, love! I could not trust to any other
+The sacred office of a foster-mother
+To this sweet cherub, save my own heart-friend.
+
+"Teach her to love her father's name, Maurine,
+Where'er he wanders. Keep my memory green
+In her young heart, and lead her in her youth,
+To drink from th' eternal fount of Truth;
+Vex her not with sectarian discourse,
+Nor strive to teach her piety by force;
+Ply not her mind with harsh and narrow creeds,
+Nor frighten her with an avenging God,
+Who rules his subjects with a burning rod;
+But teach her that each mortal simply needs
+To grow in hate of hate and love of love,
+To gain a kingdom in the courts above.
+
+"Let her be free and natural as the flowers,
+That smile and nod throughout the summer hours.
+Let her rejoice in all the joys of youth,
+But first impress upon her mind this truth:
+No lasting happiness is e'er attained
+Save when the heart some _other_ seeks to please.
+The cup of selfish pleasures soon is drained,
+And full of gall and bitterness the lees.
+Next to her God, teach her to love her land;
+In her young bosom light the patriot's flame
+Until the heart within her shall expand
+With love and fervor at her country's name.
+"No coward-mother bears a valiant son.
+And this, my last wish, is an earnest one.
+
+"Maurine, my o'er-taxed strength is waning; you
+Have heard my wishes, and you will be true
+In death as you have been in life, my own!
+Now leave me for a little while alone
+With him--my husband. Dear love! I shall rest
+So sweetly with no care upon my breast.
+Good night, Maurine, come to me in the morning."
+
+But lo! the bridegroom with no further warning
+Came for her at the dawning of the day.
+She heard his voice, and smiled, and passed away
+Without a struggle.
+                         Leaning o'er her bed
+To give her greeting, I found but her clay,
+And Vivian bowed beside it.
+
+                         And I said,
+"Dear friend! my soul shall treasure thy request,
+And when the night of fever and unrest
+Melts in the morning of Eternity,
+Like a freed bird, then I will come to thee.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, sweet!
+I have been true; and soul with soul shall meet
+Before God's throne, and shall not be afraid.
+Thou gav'st me trust, and it was not betrayed.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, dear!
+The night is dark. I do not know how near
+The morn may be of that Eternal Day;
+I can but keep my faithful watch and pray.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, love!
+Wait for me on the Eternal Heights above.
+The way is troubled where my feet must climb,
+Ere I shall tread the mountain-top sublime.
+
+"I will come in the morning, O, mine own!
+But for a time must grope my way alone,
+Through tears and sorrow, till the Day shall dawn,
+And I shall hear the summons, and pass on.
+
+"I will come in the morning. Rest secure!
+My hope is certain and my faith is sure.
+After the gloom and darkness of the night
+I will come to thee with the morning light."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three peaceful years slipped silently away.
+
+We dwelt together in my childhood's home,
+Aunt Ruth and I, and sunny-hearted May.
+She was a fair and most exquisite child;
+Her pensive face was delicate and mild
+Like her dead mother's; but through her dear eyes
+Her father smiled upon me, day by day.
+Afar in foreign countries did he roam,
+Now resting under Italy's blue skies,
+And now with Roy in Scotland.
+                         And he sent
+Brief, friendly letters, telling where he went
+And what he saw, addressed to May or me.
+And I would write and tell him how she grew--
+And how she talked about him o'er the sea
+In her sweet baby fashion; how she knew
+His picture in the album; how each day
+She knelt and prayed the blessed Lord would bring
+Her own papa back to his little May.
+
+It was a warm bright morning in the Spring.
+I sat in that same sunny portico,
+Where I was sitting seven years ago
+When Vivian came. My eyes were full of tears,
+As I looked back across the checkered years.
+How many were the changes they had brought!
+Pain, death, and sorrow! but the lesson taught
+To my young heart had been of untold worth.
+I had learned how to "suffer and grow strong"--
+That knowledge which best serves us here on earth,
+And brings reward in Heaven.
+
+                         Oh! how long
+The years had been since that June morning when
+I heard his step upon the walk, and yet
+I seemed to hear its echo still.
+                         Just then
+Down that same path I turned my eyes, tear-wet,
+And lo! the wanderer from a foreign land
+Stood there before me!--holding out his hand
+And smiling with those wond'rous eyes of old.
+
+To hide my tears, I ran and brought his child;
+But she was shy, and clung to me, when told
+This was papa, for whom her prayers were said.
+She dropped her eyes and shook her little head,
+And would not by his coaxing be beguiled,
+Or go to him.
+                         Aunt Ruth was not at home,
+And we two sat and talked, as strangers might,
+Of distant countries which we both had seen.
+But once I thought I saw his large eyes light
+With sudden passion, when there came a pause
+In our chit-chat, and then he spoke:
+                         "Maurine,
+I saw a number of your friends in Rome.
+We talked of you. They seemed surprised, because
+You were not 'mong the seekers for a name.
+They thought your whole ambition was for fame."
+
+"It might have been," I answered, "when my heart
+Had nothing else to fill it. Now my art
+Is but a recreation. I have _this_
+To love and live for, which I had not then."
+And, leaning down, I pressed a tender kiss
+Upon my child's fair brow.
+
+                         "And yet," he said,
+The old light leaping to his eyes again,
+"And yet, Maurine, they say you might have wed
+A noble Baron! one of many men
+Who laid their hearts and fortunes at your feet.
+Why won the bravest of them no return?"
+
+I bowed my head, nor dared his gaze to meet.
+On cheek and brow I felt the red blood burn,
+And strong emotion strangled speech.
+                         He rose
+And came and knelt beside me.
+                         "Sweet, my sweet!"
+He murmured softly, "God in Heaven knows
+How well I loved you seven years ago.
+He only knows my anguish, and my grief,
+When your own acts forced on me the belief
+That I had been your plaything and your toy.
+Yet from his lips I since have learned that Roy
+Held no place nearer than a friend and brother.
+And then a faint suspicion, undefined,
+Of what had been--was--might be, stirred my mind,
+And that great love, I thought died at a blow,
+Rose up within me, strong with hope and life.
+
+"Before all heaven and the angel mother
+Of this sweet child that slumbers on your heart,
+Maurine, Maurine, I claim you for my wife--
+Mine own, forever, until death shall part!"
+
+Through happy mists of upward welling tears,
+I leaned, and looked into his beauteous eyes.
+"Dear heart," I said, "if she who dwells above
+Looks down upon us, from yon azure skies,
+She can but bless us, knowing all these years
+My soul had yearned in silence for the love
+That crowned her life, and left mine own so bleak.
+I turned you from me for her fair, frail sake.
+For her sweet child's, and for my own, I take
+You back to be all mine, for evermore."
+
+Just then the child upon my breast awoke
+From her light sleep, and laid her downy cheek
+Against her father as he knelt by me.
+And this unconscious action seemed to be
+A silent blessing, which the mother spoke
+Gazing upon us from the mystic shore.
+
+
+
+TWO SUNSETS.
+
+
+In the fair morning of his life,
+  When his pure heart lay in his breast,
+  Panting, with all that wild unrest
+To plunge into the great world's strife
+
+That fills young hearts with mad desire,
+  He saw a sunset. Red and gold
+  The burning billows surged and rolled,
+And upward tossed their caps of fire.
+
+He looked. And as he looked, the sight
+  Sent from his soul through breast and brain
+  Such intense joy, it hurt like pain.
+His heart seemed bursting with delight.
+
+So near the Unknown seemed, so close
+  He might have grasped it with his hand.
+  He felt his inmost soul expand,
+As sunlight will expand a rose.
+
+One day he heard a singing strain--
+  A human voice, in bird-like trills.
+  He paused, and little rapture-rills
+Went trickling downward through each vein.
+
+And in his heart the whole day long,
+  As in a temple veiled and dim,
+  He kept and bore about with him
+The beauty of that singer's song.
+
+And then? But why relate what then?
+  His smouldering heart flamed into fire--
+  He had his one supreme desire.
+And plunged into the world of men.
+
+For years queen Folly held her sway.
+  With pleasures of the grosser kind
+  She fed his flesh and drugged his mind,
+Till, shamed, he sated turned away.
+
+He sought his boyhood's home. That hour
+  Triumphant should have been, in sooth,
+  Since he went forth an unknown youth,
+And came back crowned with wealth and power.
+
+The clouds made day a gorgeous bed;
+  He saw the splendor of the sky
+  With unmoved heart and stolid eye;
+He only knew the West was red.
+
+Then suddenly a fresh young voice
+  Rose, bird-like, from some hidden place,
+  He did not even turn his face;
+It struck him simply as a noise.
+
+He trod the old paths up and down.
+  Their rich-hued leaves by Fall winds whirled--
+  How dull they were--how dull the world--
+Dull even in the pulsing town.
+
+O! worst of punishments, that brings
+  A blunting of all finer sense,
+  A loss of feelings keen, intense,
+And dulls us to the higher things.
+
+O! penalty most dire, most sure,
+  Swift following after gross delights,
+  That we no more see beauteous sights,
+Or hear as hear the good and pure.
+
+O! shape more hideous and more dread
+  Than Vengeance takes in creed-taught minds,
+  This certain doom that blunts and blinds,
+And strikes the holiest feelings dead.
+
+
+
+UNREST.
+
+
+In the youth of the year, when the birds were building,
+  When the green was showing on tree and hedge,
+And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding
+  The world from zenith to outermost edge,
+My soul grew sad and longingly lonely!
+  I sighed for the season of sun and rose,
+And I said, "In the Summer and that time only
+  Lies sweet contentment and blest repose."
+
+With bee and bird for her maids of honor
+  Came Princess Summer in robes of green.
+And the King of day smiled down upon her
+  And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen.
+Fruit of their union and true love's pledges,
+  Beautiful roses bloomed day by day,
+And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges
+  Like royal children in sportive play.
+
+My restless soul for a little season
+  Reveled in rapture of glow and bloom,
+And then, like a subject who harbors treason,
+  Grew full of rebellion and gray with gloom.
+And I said, "I am sick of the Summer's blisses,
+  Of warmth and beauty, and nothing more.
+The full fruition my sad soul misses
+  That beauteous Fall time holds in store!"
+
+But now when the colors are almost blinding,
+  Burning and blending on bush and tree,
+And the rarest fruits are mine for the finding,
+  And the year is ripe as a year can be,
+My soul complains in the same old fashion;
+  Crying aloud in my troubled breast
+Is the same old longing, the same old passion.
+  O where is the treasure which men call rest?
+
+
+
+"ARTIST'S LIFE."
+
+
+Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote,
+  Mad with melody, rhythm--rife
+From the very first to the final note,
+  Give me his "Artist's Life!"
+
+It stirs my blood to my finger ends,
+  Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest,
+And all that is sweetest and saddest blends
+  Together within my breast.
+
+It brings back that night in the dim arcade,
+  In love's sweet morning and life's best prime.
+When the great brass orchestra played and played.
+  And set our thoughts to rhyme.
+
+It brings back that Winter of mad delights,
+  Of leaping pulses and tripping feet,
+And those languid moon-washed Summer nights
+  When we heard the band in the street.
+
+It brings back rapture and glee and glow,
+  It brings back passion and pain and strife,
+And so of all the waltzes I know,
+  Give me the "Artist's Life."
+
+For it is so full of the dear old time--
+  So full of the dear old friends I knew.
+And under its rhythm, and lilt, and rhyme,
+  I am always finding--_you_.
+
+
+
+NOTHING BUT STONES.
+
+
+I think I never passed so sad an hour,
+  Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night.
+The edifice from basement to the tower
+  Was one resplendent blaze of colored light.
+Up through broad aisles the stylish crowd was thronging,
+  Each richly robed like some king's bidden guest.
+"Here will I bring my sorrow and my longing,"
+  I said, "and here find rest."
+
+I heard the heavenly organ's voice of thunder,
+  It seemed to give me infinite relief.
+I wept. Strange eyes looked on in well-bred wonder.
+  I dried my tears: their gaze profaned my grief.
+Wrapt in the costly furs, and silks and laces
+  Beat alien hearts, that had no part with me.
+I could not read, in all those proud cold faces,
+  One thought of sympathy.
+
+I watched them bowing and devoutly kneeling,
+  Heard their responses like sweet waters roll.
+But only the glorious organ's sacred pealing
+  Seemed gushing from a full and fervent soul.
+I listened to the man of holy calling,
+  He spoke of creeds, and hailed his own as best;
+Of man's corruption and of Adam's falling,
+  But naught that gave me rest.
+
+Nothing that helped me bear the daily grinding
+  Of soul with body, heart with heated brain.
+Nothing to show the purpose of this blinding
+  And sometimes overwhelming sense of pain.
+And then, dear friend, I thought of thee, so lowly,
+  So unassuming, and so gently kind,
+And lo! a peace, a calm serene and holy,
+  Settled upon my mind.
+
+Ah, friend, my friend! one true heart, fond and tender,
+  That understands our troubles and our needs,
+Brings us more near to God than all the splendor
+  And pomp of seeming worship and vain creeds.
+One glance of thy dear eyes so full of feeling,
+  Doth bring me closer to the Infinite,
+Than all that throng of worldly people kneeling
+  In blaze of gorgeous light.
+
+
+
+THE COQUETTE.
+
+
+Alone she sat with her accusing heart,
+  That, like a restless comrade frightened sleep,
+And every thought that found her, left a dart
+  That hurt her so, she could not even weep.
+
+Her heart that once had been a cup well filled
+  With love's red wine, save for some drops of gall
+She knew was empty; though it had not spilled
+  Its sweets for one, but wasted them on all.
+
+She stood upon the grave of her dead truth,
+  And saw her soul's bright armor red with rust,
+And knew that all the riches of her youth
+  Were Dead Sea apples, crumbling into dust.
+
+Love that had turned to bitter, biting scorn,
+  Hearthstones despoiled, and homes made desolate,
+Made her cry out that she was ever born,
+  To loathe her beauty and to curse her fate.
+
+
+
+INEVITABLE.
+
+
+To-day I was so weary and I lay
+  In that delicious state of semi-waking,
+When baby, sitting with his nurse at play,
+  Cried loud for "mamma," all his toys forsaking.
+
+I was so weary and I needed rest,
+  And signed to nurse to bear him from the room.
+Then, sudden, rose and caught him to my breast,
+  And kissed the grieving mouth and cheeks of bloom.
+
+For swift as lightning came the thought to me,
+  With pulsing heart-throes and a mist of tears,
+Of days inevitable, that are to be,
+  If my fair darling grows to manhood's years;
+
+Days when he will not call for "mamma," when
+  The world with many a pleasure and bright joy,
+Shall tempt him forth into the haunts of men
+  And I shall lose the first place with my boy;
+
+When other homes and loves shall give delight,
+  When younger smiles and voices will seem best.
+And so I held him to my heart to-night,
+  Forgetting all my need of peace and rest.
+
+
+
+THE OCEAN OF SONG
+
+
+In a land beyond sight or conceiving,
+  In a land where no blight is, no wrong,
+No darkness, no graves, and no grieving,
+  There lies the great ocean of song.
+And its waves, oh, its waves unbeholden
+  By any save gods, and their kind,
+Are not blue, are not green, but are golden,
+  Like moonlight and sunlight combined.
+
+It was whispered to me that their waters
+  Were made from the gathered-up tears,
+That were wept by the sons and the daughters
+  Of long-vanished eras and spheres.
+Like white sands of heaven the spray is
+  That falls all the happy day long,
+And whoever it touches straightway is
+  Made glad with the spirit of song.
+
+Up, up to the clouds where their hoary
+  Crowned heads melt away in the skies,
+The beautiful mountains of glory
+  Each side of the song ocean rise.
+Here day is one splendor of sky light
+  Of God's light with beauty replete.
+Here night is not night, but is twilight,
+  Pervading, enfolding and sweet.
+
+Bright birds from all climes and all regions
+  That sing the whole glad summer long,
+Are dumb, till they flock here in legions
+  And lave in the ocean of song.
+It is here that the four winds of heaven,
+  The winds that do sing and rejoice,
+It is here they first came and were given
+  The secret of sound and a voice.
+
+Far down along beautiful beeches,
+  By night and by glorious day,
+The throng of the gifted ones reaches,
+  Their foreheads made white with the spray.
+And a few of the sons and the daughters
+  Of this kingdom, cloud-hidden from sight,
+Go down in the wonderful waters,
+  And bathe in those billows of light
+
+And their souls ever more are like fountains,
+  And liquid and lucent and strong,
+High over the tops of the mountains
+  Gush up the sweet billows of song.
+No drouth-time of waters can dry them.
+  Whoever has bathed in that sea,
+All dangers, all deaths, they defy them,
+  And are gladder than gods are, with glee.
+
+
+
+"IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN."
+
+
+We will be what we could be. Do not say,
+  "It might have been, had not or that, or this."
+No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
+        He only might, who _is_.
+
+We will do what we could do. Do not dream
+  Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.
+I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;
+        He does, who could achieve.
+
+We will climb where we could climb. Tell me not
+  Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.
+What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?
+        He always climbs who might.
+
+I do not like the phrase, "It might have been!"
+  It lacks all force, and life's best truths perverts:
+For I believe we have, and reach, and win,
+        Whatever our deserts.
+
+
+
+IF.
+
+
+Dear love, if you and I could sail away,
+  With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled,
+Across the waters of some unknown bay,
+  And find some island far from all the world;
+
+If we could dwell there, ever more alone,
+  While unrecorded years slip by apace,
+Forgetting and forgotten and unknown
+  By aught save native song-birds of the place;
+
+If Winter never visited that land,
+  And Summer's lap spilled o'er with fruits and flowers,
+And tropic trees cast shade on every hand,
+  And twinčd boughs formed sleep-inviting bowers;
+
+If from the fashions of the world set free,
+  And hid away from all its jealous strife,
+I lived alone for you, and you for me--
+  Ah! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life.
+
+But since we dwell here in the crowded way,
+  Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold,
+And all is common-place and work-a-day,
+  As soon as love's young honeymoon grows old;
+
+Since fashion rules and nature yields to art,
+  And life is hurt by daily jar and fret,
+'Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart
+  And go our ways alone, love, and forget.
+
+
+
+GETHSEMANE.
+
+
+In golden youth when seems the earth
+A Summer-land of singing mirth,
+When souls are glad and hearts are light,
+And not a shadow lurks in sight,
+We do not know it, but there lies
+Somewhere veiled under evening skies
+A garden which we all must see--
+The garden of Gethsemane.
+
+With joyous steps we go our ways,
+Love lends a halo to our days;
+Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,
+We laugh, and say how strong we are.
+We hurry on; and hurrying, go
+Close to the border-land of woe,
+That waits for you, and waits for me--
+Forever waits Gethsemane.
+
+Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams
+Bridged over by our broken dreams;
+Behind the misty caps of years,
+Beyond the great salt fount of tears,
+The garden lies. Strive as you may,
+You cannot miss it in your way.
+All paths that have been, or shall be,
+Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.
+
+All those who journey, soon or late,
+Must pass within the garden's gate;
+Must kneel alone in darkness there,
+And battle with some fierce despair.
+God pity those who can not say,
+"Not mine but thine," who only pray,
+"Let this cup pass," and cannot see
+The _purpose_ in Gethsemane.
+
+
+
+DUST-SEALED.
+
+
+I know not wherefore, but mine eyes
+  See bloom, where other eyes see blight.
+They find a rainbow, a sunrise,
+  Where others but discern deep night.
+
+Men call me an enthusiast,
+  And say I look through gilded haze:
+Because where'er my gaze is cast,
+  I see some thing that calls for praise.
+
+I say, "Behold those lovely eyes--
+  That tinted cheek of flower-like grace."
+They answer in amused surprise:
+  "We thought it such a common face."
+
+I say, "Was ever scene more fair?
+  I seem to walk in Eden's bowers."
+They answer with a pitying air,
+  "The weeds are choking out the flowers."
+
+I know not wherefore, but God lent
+  A deeper vision to my sight.
+On whatsoe'er my gaze is bent
+  I catch the beauty Infinite;
+
+That underlying, hidden half
+  That all things hold of Deity.
+So let the dull crowd sneer and laugh--
+  Their eyes are blind, they cannot see.
+
+
+
+"ADVICE."
+
+
+I must do as you do? Your way I own
+  Is a very good way. And still,
+There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,
+  One over, one under the hill.
+
+You are treading the safe and the well-worn way,
+  That the prudent choose each time;
+And you think me reckless and rash to-day,
+  Because I prefer to climb.
+
+Your path is the right one, and so is mine.
+  We are not like peas in a pod,
+Compelled to lie in a certain line,
+  Or else be scattered abroad.
+
+'Twere a dull old world, methinks, my friend,
+  If we all went just one way;
+Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,
+  Though they lead apart to-day.
+
+You like the shade, and I like the sun;
+  You like an even pace,
+I like to mix with the crowd and run,
+  And then rest after the race.
+
+I like danger, and storm and strife,
+  You like a peaceful time;
+I like the passion and surge of life,
+  You like its gentle rhyme.
+
+You like buttercups, dewy sweet,
+  And crocuses, framed in snow;
+I like roses, born of the heat,
+  And the red carnation's glow.
+
+I must live my life, not yours, my friend,
+  For so it was written down;
+We must follow our given paths to the end,
+  But I trust we shall meet--in town.
+
+
+
+OVER THE BANISTERS.
+
+
+Over the banisters bends a face,
+  Daringly sweet and beguiling.
+Somebody stands in careless grace,
+  And watches the picture, smiling.
+
+The light burns dim in the hall below,
+  Nobody sees her standing,
+Saying good-night again, soft and slow,
+  Half way up to the landing.
+
+Nobody only the eyes of brown,
+  Tender and full of meaning,
+That smile on the fairest face in town,
+  Over the banisters leaning.
+
+Tired and sleepy, with drooping head,
+  I wonder why she lingers;
+Now, when the good-nights all are said,
+  Why somebody holds her fingers.
+
+He holds her fingers and draws her down,
+  Suddenly growing bolder,
+Till the loose hair drops its masses brown
+  Like a mantle over his shoulder.
+
+Over the banisters soft hands, fair,
+  Brush his cheeks like a feather,
+And bright brown tresses and dusky hair,
+  Meet and mingle together.
+
+There's a question asked, there's a swift caress,
+  She has flown like a bird from the hallway,
+But over the banisters drops a "yes,"
+  That shall brighten the world for him alway.
+
+
+
+MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER.
+
+
+Though with gods the world is cumbered,
+Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
+Never god was known to be
+Who had not his devotee.
+So I dedicate to mine,
+Here in verse, my temple-shrine.
+
+'Tis not Ares,--mighty Mars,
+Who can give success in wars.
+'Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep
+Guard above us while we sleep,
+'Tis not Venus, she whose duty
+'Tis to give us love and beauty;
+Hail to these, and others, after
+Momus, gleesome god of laughter.
+
+Quirinus would guard my health!
+Plutus would insure me wealth
+Mercury looks after trade,
+Hera smiles on youth and maid.
+All are kind, I own their worth,
+After Momus, god of mirth.
+
+Though Apollo, out of spite,
+Hides away his face of light.
+Though Minerva looks askance,
+Deigning me no smiling glance,
+Kings and queens may envy me
+While I claim the god of glee.
+
+Wisdom wearies, Love has wings--
+Wealth makes burdens, Pleasure stings,
+Glory proves a thorny crown--
+So all gifts the gods throw down
+Bring their pains and troubles after;
+All save Momus, god of laughter.
+He alone gives constant joy,
+Hail to Momus, happy boy.
+
+
+
+I DREAM.
+
+
+Oh, I have dreams. I sometimes dream of Life
+  In the full meaning of that splendid word.
+  Its subtle music which few men have heard,
+Though all may hear it, sounding through earth's strife.
+Its mountain heights by mystic breezes kissed,
+  Lifting their lovely peaks above the dust;
+  Its treasures which no touch of time can rust,
+Its emerald seas, its dawns of amethyst,
+  Its certain purpose, its serene repose,
+  Its usefulness, that finds no hour for woes,
+          This is my dream of Life.
+
+Yes, I have dreams. I ofttimes dream of Love
+  As radiant and brilliant as a star.
+  As changeless, too, as that fixed light afar
+Which glorifies vast worlds of space above.
+Strong as the tempest when it holds its breath,
+  Before it bursts in fury; and as deep
+  As the unfathomed seas, where lost worlds sleep
+And sad as birth, and beautiful as death.
+  As fervent as the fondest soul could crave,
+  Yet holy as the moonlight on a grave.
+          This is my dream of Love.
+
+Yes, yes, I dream. One oft-recurring dream,
+  Is beautiful and comforting and blest.
+  Complete with certain promises of rest.
+Divine content, and ecstasy supreme.
+When that strange essence, author of all faith,
+  That subtle something, which cries for the light,
+  Like a lost child who wanders in the night,
+Shall solve the mighty mystery of Death,
+  Shall find eternal progress, or sublime
+  And satisfying slumber for all time.
+          This is my dream of Death.
+
+
+
+THE PAST.
+
+
+I fling my past behind me, like a robe
+Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.
+I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep
+And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes
+Of Oriental splendor, or complain
+That I must needs discard it? I can weave
+Upon the shuttles of the future years
+A fabric far more durable. Subdued,
+It may be, in the blending of its hues,
+Where somber shades commingle, yet the gleam
+Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through,
+While over all a fadeless luster lies,
+And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears,
+My new robe shall be richer than the old.
+
+
+
+THE SONNET.
+
+
+Alone it stands in Poesy's fair land,
+  A temple by the muses set apart;
+  A perfect structure of consummate art,
+By artists builded and by genius planned.
+Beyond the reach of the apprentice hand,
+  Beyond the ken of the untutored heart,
+  Like a fine carving in a common mart,
+Only the favored few will understand.
+A _chef-d'oeuvre_ toiled over with great care,
+  Yet which the unseeing careless crowd goes by,
+A plainly set, but well-cut solitaire,
+An ancient bit of pottery, too rare
+  To please or hold aught save the special eye,
+These only with the sonnet can compare.
+
+
+
+SECRETS.
+
+
+Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone;
+  Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death,
+  We one by one, with our expiring breath,
+Do pale with wonder seize and make our own;
+The bosomed treasures of the earth are shown,
+  Despite her careful hiding; and the air
+  Yields its mysterious marvels in despair
+To swell the mighty store-house of things known.
+In vain the sea expostulates and raves;
+  It cannot cover from the keen world's sight
+  The curious wonders of its coral caves.
+And so, despite thy caution or thy tears,
+The prying fingers of detective years
+  Shall drag _thy_ secret out into the light.
+
+
+
+A DREAM.
+
+
+That was a curious dream; I thought the three
+  Great planets that are drawing near the sun
+  With such unerring certainty, begun
+To talk together in a mighty glee.
+They spoke of vast convulsions which would be
+  Throughout the solar system--the rare fun
+  Of watching haughty stars drop, one by one,
+And vanish in a seething vapor sea.
+
+I thought I heard them comment on the earth--
+  That small dark object--doomed beyond a doubt.
+  They wondered if live creatures moved about
+Its tiny surface, deeming it of worth.
+  And then they laughed--'twas such a ringing shout
+That I awoke and joined too in their mirth.
+
+
+
+USELESSNESS.
+
+
+Let mine not be that saddest fate of all
+  To live beyond my greater self; to see
+  My faculties decaying, as the tree
+Stands stark and helpless while its green leaves fall.
+Let me hear rather the imperious call,
+  Which all men dread, in my glad morning time,
+  And follow death ere I have reached my prime,
+Or drunk the strengthening cordial of life's gall.
+The lightning's stroke or the fierce tempest blast
+  Which fells the green tree to the earth to-day
+Is kinder than the calm that lets it last,
+  Unhappy witness of its own decay.
+  May no man ever look on me and say,
+"She lives, but all her usefulness is past."
+
+
+
+WILL.
+
+
+There is no chance, no destiny, no fate,
+  Can circumvent or hinder or control
+  The firm resolve of a determined soul.
+Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;
+All things give way before it, soon or late.
+  What obstacle can stay the mighty force
+  Of the sea-seeking river in its course,
+Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?
+
+Each well-born soul must win what it deserves.
+Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate
+  Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,
+  Whose slightest action or inaction serves
+The one great aim.
+                    Why, even Death stands still,
+And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.
+
+
+
+WINTER RAIN.
+
+
+Falling upon the frozen world last night,
+  I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain--
+  Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain;
+The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might,
+Far better had the fixedness of white
+And uncomplaining snows--which make no sign,
+But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine--
+Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.
+Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,
+  I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.
+  Though sinewy Fate deals her most skillful blow,
+I do not waste the gall now of my tears,
+But feed my pride upon its bitter, while
+I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile.
+
+
+
+APPLAUSE.
+
+
+I hold it one of the sad certain laws
+  Which makes our failures sometimes seem more kind
+  Than that success which brings sure loss behind--
+True greatness dies, when sounds the world's applause
+Fame blights the object it would bless, because
+  Weighed down with men's expectancy, the mind
+  Can no more soar to those far heights, and find
+That freedom which its inspiration was.
+When once we listen to its noisy cheers
+  Or hear the populace' approval, then
+We catch no more the music of the spheres,
+  Or walk with gods, and angels, but with men.
+Till, impotent from our self-conscious fears,
+The plaudits of the world turn into sneers.
+
+
+
+LIFE.
+
+
+Life, like a romping schoolboy, full of glee,
+  Doth bear us on his shoulders for a time.
+  There is no path too steep for him to climb,
+With strong, lithe limbs, as agile and as free,
+As some young roe, he speeds by vale and sea,
+  By flowery mead, by mountain peak sublime,
+  And all the world seems motion set to rhyme,
+Till, tired out, he cries, "Now carry me!"
+  In vain we murmur, "Come," Life says, "fair play!"
+And seizes on us. God! he goads us so!
+  He does not let us sit down all the day.
+At each new step we feel the burden grow,
+Till our bent backs seem breaking as we go,
+  Watching for Death to meet us on the way.
+
+
+
+BURDENED.
+
+"Genius, a man's weapon, a woman's burden."--_Lamartine._
+
+
+Dear God! there is no sadder fate in life,
+  Than to be burdened so that you can not
+  Sit down contented with the common lot
+Of happy mother and devoted wife.
+
+To feel your brain wild and your bosom rife
+  With all the sea's commotion; to be fraught
+  With fires and frenzies which you have not sought,
+And weighed down with the wide world's weary strife.
+
+To feel a fever alway in your breast,
+  To lean and hear half in affright, half shame.
+  A loud-voiced public boldly mouth your name,
+To reap your hard-sown harvest in unrest,
+  And know, however great your meed of fame,
+You are but a weak woman at the best.
+
+
+
+THE STORY.
+
+
+They met each other in the glade--
+  She lifted up her eyes;
+Alack the day! Alack the maid!
+  She blushed in swift surprise.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.
+
+The pail was full, the path was steep--
+  He reached to her his hand;
+She felt her warm young pulses leap,
+  But did not understand.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.
+
+She sat beside him in the wood--
+  He wooed with words and sighs;
+Ah! love in spring seems sweet and good,
+  And maidens are not wise.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers' sighs.
+
+The summer sun shone fairly down,
+  The wind blew from the south;
+As blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown,
+  His kiss fell on her mouth.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.
+
+And now the autumn time is near,
+  The lover roves away,
+With breaking heart and falling tear,
+  She sits the livelong day.
+Alas! alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.
+
+
+
+LET THEM GO.
+
+
+Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams
+  In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight
+That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams,
+  And shoot the shadows through and through with light?
+  What matters one lost vision of the night?
+                          Let the dream go!
+
+Let the hope set. Are there not other hopes
+  That yet shall rise like new stars in thy sky?
+Not long a soul in sullen darkness gropes
+  Before some light is lent it from on high;
+  What folly to think happiness gone by!
+                          Let the hope set!
+
+Let the joy fade. Are there not other joys,
+  Like frost-bound bulbs, that yet shall start and bloom?
+Severe must be the winter that destroys
+  The hardy roots locked in their silent tomb.
+  What cares the earth for her brief time of gloom?
+                          Let the joy fade!
+
+Let the love die. Are there not other loves
+  As beautiful and full of sweet unrest,
+Flying through space like snowy-pinioned doves?
+  They yet shall come and nestle in thy breast,
+  And thou shalt say of each, "Lo, this is best!"
+                          Let the love die!
+
+
+
+THE ENGINE.
+
+
+Into the gloom of the deep, dark night,
+  With panting breath and a startled scream;
+Swift as a bird in sudden flight
+  Darts this creature of steel and steam.
+
+Awful dangers are lurking nigh,
+  Rocks and chasms are near the track,
+But straight by the light of its great white eye
+  It speeds through the shadows, dense and black.
+
+Terrible thoughts and fierce desires
+  Trouble its mad heart many an hour,
+Where burn and smoulder the hidden fires,
+  Coupled ever with might and power.
+
+It hates, as a wild horse hates the rein,
+  The narrow track by vale and hill;
+And shrieks with a cry of startled pain,
+  And longs to follow its own wild will.
+
+Oh, what am I but an engine, shod
+  With muscle and flesh, by the hand of God,
+Speeding on through the dense, dark night,
+  Guided alone by the soul's white light.
+
+Often and often my mad heart tires,
+  And hates its way with a bitter hate,
+And longs to follow its own desires,
+  And leave the end in the hand of fate.
+
+O mighty engine of steel and steam;
+  O human engine of blood and bone,
+Follow the white light's certain beam--
+  There lies safety and there alone.
+
+The narrow track of fearless truth,
+  Lit by the soul's great eye of light,
+O passionate heart of restless youth,
+  Alone will carry you through the night.
+
+
+
+NOTHING NEW.
+
+
+From the dawn of spring till the year grows hoary,
+  Nothing is new that is done or said,
+The leaves are telling the same old story--
+  "Budding, bursting, dying, dead."
+And ever and always the wild bird's chorus
+  Is "coming, building, flying, fled."
+
+Never the round earth roams or ranges
+  Out of her circuit, so old, so old,
+And the smile o' the sun knows but these changes--
+  Beaming, burning, tender, cold,
+As Spring time softens or Winter estranges
+  The mighty heart of this orb of gold.
+
+From our great sire's birth to the last morn's breaking
+  There were tempest, sunshine, fruit and frost,
+And the sea was calm or the sea was shaking
+  His mighty main like a lion crossed,
+And ever this cry the heart was making--
+  Longing, loving, losing, lost.
+
+Forever the wild wind wanders, crying,
+  Southerly, easterly, north and west,
+And one worn song the fields are sighing,
+  "Sowing, growing, harvest, rest,"
+And the tired thought of the world, replying
+  Like an echo to what is last and best,
+        Murmurs--"Rest."
+
+
+
+DREAMS.
+
+
+Thank God for dreams! I, desolate and lone,
+  In the dark curtained night, did seem to be
+The centre where all golden sun-rays shone,
+  And, sitting there, held converse sweet with thee.
+No shadow lurked between us; all was bright
+  And beautiful as in the hours gone by,
+I smiled, and was rewarded by the light
+  Of olden days soft beaming from thine eye.
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+I thought the birds all listened; for thy voice
+  Pulsed through the air, like beat of silver wings.
+It made each chamber of my soul rejoice
+  And thrilled along my heart's tear-rusted strings.
+As some devout and ever-prayerful nun
+  Tells her bright beads, and counts them o'er and o'er,
+Thy golden words I gathered, one by one,
+  And slipped them into memory's precious store.
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+My lips met thine in one ecstatic kiss.
+  Hand pressed in hand, and heart to heart we sat.
+Why even now I am surcharged with bliss--
+  With joy supreme, if I but think of that.
+No fear of separation or of change
+  Crept in to mar our sweet serene content.
+In that blest vision, nothing could estrange
+  Our wedded souls, in perfect union blent.
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+Thank God for dreams! when nothing else is left.
+  When the sick soul, all tortured with its pain,
+Knowing itself forever more bereft,
+  Finds waiting hopeless and all watching vain,
+When empty arms grow rigid with their ache,
+  When eyes are blinded with sad tides of tears,
+When stricken hearts do suffer, yet not break,
+  For loss of those who come not with the years--
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+
+
+HELENA.
+
+
+Last night I saw Helena. She whose praise
+  Of late all men have sounded. She for whom
+  Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb
+Rather than live without her all his days.
+
+Wise men go mad who look upon her long,
+  She is so ripe with dangers. Yet meanwhile
+  I find no fascination in her smile,
+Although I make her theme of this poor song.
+
+"Her golden tresses?" yes, they may be fair,
+  And yet to me each shining silken tress
+  Seems robbed of beauty and all lusterless--
+Too many hands have stroked Helena's hair.
+
+(I know a little maiden so demure
+  She will not let her one true lover's hands
+  In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands,
+So dainty-minded is she, and so pure.)
+
+"Her great dark eyes that flash like gems at night?
+  Large, long-lashed eyes and lustrous?" that may be,
+  And yet they are not beautiful to me.
+Too many hearts have sunned in their delight.
+
+(I mind me of two tender blue eyes, hid
+  So underneath white curtains, and so veiled
+  That I have sometimes plead for hours, and failed
+To see more than the shyly lifted lid.)
+
+"Her perfect mouth so like a carvčd kiss?"
+  "Her honeyed mouth, where hearts do, fly-like, drown?"
+  I would not taste its sweetness for a crown;
+Too many lips have drank its nectared bliss.
+
+(I know a mouth whose virgin dew, undried,
+  Lies like a young grape's bloom, untouched and sweet,
+  And though I plead in passion at her feet,
+She would not let me brush it if I died.)
+
+In vain, Helena! though wise men may vie
+  For thy rare smile or die from loss of it,
+  Armored by my sweet lady's trust, I sit,
+And know thou art not worth her faintest sigh.
+
+
+
+NOTHING REMAINS.
+
+
+Nothing remains of unrecorded ages
+  That lie in the silent cemetery of time;
+Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages,
+  Their glory may have been indeed sublime.
+How weak do seem our strivings after power,
+  How poor the grandest efforts of our brains,
+If out of all we are, in one short hour
+            Nothing remains.
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Spaces,
+  Time and decay uproot the forest trees.
+Even the mighty mountains leave their places,
+  And sink their haughty heads beneath strange seas;
+The great earth writhes in some convulsive spasm
+  And turns the proudest cities into plains.
+The level sea becomes a yawning chasm--
+            Nothing remains.
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Forces,
+  The sad seas cease complaining and grow dry;
+Rivers are drained and altered in their courses,
+  Great stars pass out and vanish from the sky.
+Ideas die and old religions perish,
+  Our rarest pleasures and our keenest pains
+Are swept away with all we hate or cherish--
+            Nothing remains.
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Nameless
+  And all-creative spirit of the Law,
+Uncomprehended, comprehensive, blameless,
+  Invincible, resistless, with no flaw;
+So full of love it must create forever,
+  Destroying that it may create again
+Persistent and perfecting in endeavor,
+  It yet must bring forth angels, after men--
+            This, this remains.
+
+
+
+LEAN DOWN.
+
+
+Lean down and lift me higher, Josephine!
+From the Eternal Hills hast thou not seen
+How I do strive for heights? but lacking wings,
+I cannot grasp at once those better things
+To which I in my inmost soul aspire.
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+I grope along--not desolate or sad,
+For youth and hope and health all keep me glad;
+But too bright sunlight, sometimes, makes us blind,
+And I do grope for heights I cannot find.
+Oh, thou must know my one supreme desire--
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+Not long ago we trod the self-same way.
+Thou knowest how, from day to fleeting day
+Our souls were vexed with trifles, and our feet,
+Were lured aside to by-paths which seemed sweet,
+But only served to hinder and to tire;
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+Thou hast gone onward to the heights serene,
+And left me here, my loved one, Josephine;
+I am content to stay until the end,
+For life is full of promise; but, my friend,
+Canst thou not help me in my best desire
+And lean, and lift me higher?
+
+Frail as thou wert, thou hast grown strong and wise,
+And quick to understand and sympathize
+With all a full soul's needs. It must be so,
+Thy year with God hath made thee great I know.
+Thou must see how I struggle and aspire--
+Oh, warm me with a breath of heavenly fire,
+And lean, and lift me higher.
+
+
+
+COMRADES.
+
+
+I and my Soul are alone to-day,
+  All in the shining weather;
+We were sick of the world, and we put it away,
+  So we could rejoice together.
+
+Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky
+  Is mixing a rare, sweet wine,
+In the burnished gold of his cup on high,
+  For me, and this Soul of mine.
+
+We find it a safe and royal drink,
+  And a cure for every pain;
+It helps us to love, and helps us to think,
+  And strengthens body and brain.
+
+And sitting here, with my Soul alone,
+  Where the yellow sun-rays fall,
+Of all the friends I have ever known
+  I find it the _best_ of all.
+
+We rarely meet when the World is near,
+  For the World hath a pleasing art
+And brings me so much that is bright and dear
+  That my Soul it keepeth apart.
+
+But when I grow weary of mirth and glee,
+  Of glitter, and glow, and splendor,
+Like a tried old friend it comes to me,
+  With a smile that is sad and tender.
+
+And we walk together as two friends may,
+  And laugh, and drink God's wine.
+Oh, a royal comrade any day
+  I find this Soul of mine.
+
+
+
+WHAT GAIN?
+
+
+Now, while thy rounded cheek is fresh and fair,
+  While beauty lingers, laughing, in thine eyes,
+Ere thy young heart shall meet the stranger, "Care,"
+  Or thy blithe soul become the home of sighs,
+Were it not kindness should I give thee rest
+By plunging this sharp dagger in thy breast?
+Dying so young, with all thy wealth of youth,
+What part of life wouldst thou not claim, in sooth?
+                Only the woe,
+        Sweetheart, that sad souls know.
+
+Now, in this sacred hour of supreme trust,
+  Of pure delight and palpitating joy,
+Ere change can come, as come it surely must,
+  With jarring doubts and discords, to destroy
+Our far too perfect peace, I pray thee, Sweet,
+Were it not best for both of us, and meet,
+If I should bring swift death to seal our bliss?
+Dying so full of joy, what could we miss?
+                Nothing but tears,
+        Sweetheart, and weary years.
+
+How slight the action! Just one well-aimed blow
+  Here where I feel thy warm heart's pulsing beat,
+And then another through my own, and so
+  Our perfect union would be made complete:
+So past all parting, I should claim thee mine.
+Dead with our youth, and faith, and love divine,
+Should we not keep the best of life that way?
+What shall we gain by living day on day?
+                What shall we gain,
+        Sweetheart, but bitter pain?
+
+
+
+LIFE.
+
+
+I feel the great immensity of life.
+All little aims slip from me, and I reach
+My yearning soul toward the Infinite.
+
+As when a mighty forest, whose green leaves
+Have shut it in, and made it seem a bower
+For lovers' secrets, or for children's sports,
+Casts all its clustering foliage to the winds,
+And lets the eye behold it, limitless,
+And full of winding mysteries of ways:
+So now with life that reaches out before,
+And borders on the unexplained Beyond.
+
+I see the stars above me, world on world:
+I hear the awful language of all Space;
+I feel the distant surging of great seas,
+That hide the secrets of the Universe
+In their eternal bosoms; and I know
+That I am but an atom of the Whole.
+
+
+
+TO THE WEST.
+
+[In an interview with Lawrence Barrett, he said: "The literature of the New
+World must look to the West for its poetry."]
+
+
+Not to the crowded East,
+  Where, in a well-worn groove,
+Like the harnessed wheel of a great machine,
+  The trammeled mind must move--
+Where Thought must follow the fashion of Thought,
+Or be counted vulgar and set at naught.
+
+Not to the languid South,
+  Where the mariners of the brain
+Are lured by the Sirens of the Sense,
+  And wrecked upon its main--
+Where Thought is rocked, on the sweet wind's breath,
+To a torpid sleep that ends in death.
+
+But to the mighty West,
+  That chosen realm of God,
+Where Nature reaches her hands to men,
+  And Freedom walks abroad--
+Where mind is King, and fashion is naught:
+There shall the New World look for thought.
+
+To the West, the beautiful West,
+  She shall look, and not in vain--
+For out of its broad and boundless store
+  Come muscle, and nerve, and brain.
+Let the bards of the East and the South be dumb--
+For out of the West shall the Poets come.
+
+They shall come with souls as great
+  As the cradle where they were rocked;
+They shall come with brows that are touched with fire,
+  Like the Gods with whom they have walked;
+They shall come from the West in royal state,
+The Singers and Thinkers for whom we wait.
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF CONTENT.
+
+
+I set out for the Land of Content,
+  By the gay crowded pleasure-highway,
+With laughter, and jesting, I went
+  With the mirth-loving throng for a day;
+  Then I knew I had wandered astray,
+For I met returned pilgrims, belated,
+Who said, "We are weary and sated,
+But we found not the Land of Content."
+
+I turned to the steep path of fame,
+  I said, "It is over yon height--
+This land with the beautiful name--
+  Ambition will lend me its light."
+  But I paused in my journey ere night,
+For the way grew so lonely and troubled;
+I said--my anxiety doubled--
+"This is not the road to Content."
+
+Then I joined the great rabble and throng
+  That frequents the moneyed world's mart;
+But the greed, and the grasping and wrong,
+  Left me only one wish--to depart.
+  And sickened, and saddened at heart,
+I hurried away from the gateway,
+For my soul and my spirit said straightway,
+"This is not the road to Content."
+
+Then weary in body and brain,
+  An overgrown path I detected,
+And I said "I will hide with my pain
+  In this by-way, unused and neglected."
+  Lo! it led to the realm God selected
+To crown with his best gifts of beauty,
+And through the dark pathway of duty
+I came to the land of Content.
+
+
+
+A SONG OF LIFE.
+
+
+In the rapture of life and of living,
+  I lift up my heart and rejoice,
+And I thank the great Giver for giving
+  The soul of my gladness a voice.
+In the glow of the glorious weather,
+  In the sweet-scented sensuous air,
+My burdens seem light as a feather--
+  They are nothing to bear.
+
+In the strength and the glory of power,
+  In the pride and the pleasure of wealth,
+(For who dares dispute me my dower
+  Of talents and youth-time and health?)
+I can laugh at the world and its sages--
+  I am greater than seers who are sad,
+For he is most wise in all ages
+  Who knows how to be glad.
+
+I lift up my eyes to Apollo,
+  The god of the beautiful days,
+And my spirit soars off like a swallow
+  And is lost in the light of its rays.
+Are you troubled and sad? I beseech you
+  Come out of the shadows of strife--
+Come out in the sun while I teach you
+  The secret of life.
+
+Come out of the world--come above it--
+  Up over its crosses and graves,
+Though the green earth is fair and I love it,
+  We must love it as masters, not slaves.
+Come up where the dust never rises--
+  But only the perfume of flowers--
+And your life shall be glad with surprises
+  Of beautiful hours.
+Come up where the rare golden wine is
+  Apollo distills in my sight,
+And your life shall be happy as mine is,
+  And as full of delight.
+
+
+
+WARNING.
+
+
+High in the heavens I saw the moon this morning,
+  Albeit the sun shone bright;
+Unto my soul it spoke, in voice of warning,
+        "Remember Night!"
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTIAN'S NEW YEAR PRAYER.
+
+
+Thou Christ of mine, thy gracious ear low bending
+  Through these glad New Year days,
+To catch the countless prayers to Heaven ascending--
+  For e'en hard hearts do raise
+Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,
+  Or freedom from all care--
+Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,
+  Hear now a Christian's prayer.
+
+Let this young year that, silent, walks beside me,
+  Be as a means of grace
+To lead me up, no matter what betide me,
+  Nearer the Master's face.
+If it need be that ere I reach the fountain
+  Where Living waters play,
+My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,
+  Then cast them in my way.
+
+If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses
+  To shape it for thy crown,
+Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,
+  With sorrows bear it down.
+Do what thou wilt to mold me to thy pleasure,
+  And if I should complain,
+Heap full of anguish yet another measure
+  Until I smile at pain.
+Send dangers--deaths! but tell me how to dare them;
+  Enfold me in thy care.
+Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them--
+  This is a Christian's prayer.
+
+
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+Sometimes at night, when I sit and write,
+  I hear the strangest things,--
+As my brain grows hot with burning thought,
+  That struggles for form and wings,
+I can hear the beat of my swift blood's feet,
+  As it speeds with a rush and a whir
+From heart to brain and back again,
+  Like a race-horse under the spur.
+
+With my soul's fine ear I listen and hear
+  The tender Silence speak,
+As it leans on the breast of Night to rest,
+  And presses his dusky cheek.
+And the darkness turns in its sleep, and yearns
+  For something that is kin;
+And I hear the hiss of a scorching kiss,
+  As it folds and fondles Sin.
+
+In its hurrying race through leagues of space,
+  I can hear the Earth catch breath,
+As it heaves and moans, and shudders and groans,
+  And longs for the rest of Death.
+And high and far, from a distant star,
+  Whose name is unknown to me,
+I hear a voice that says, "Rejoice,
+  For I keep ward o'er thee!"
+
+Oh, sweet and strange are the sounds that range
+  Through the chambers of the night;
+And the watcher who waits by the dim, dark gates,
+  May hear, if he lists aright.
+
+
+
+GOD'S MEASURE.
+
+
+God measures souls by their capacity
+For entertaining his best Angel, Love.
+Who loveth most is nearest kin to God,
+Who is all Love, or Nothing.
+                             He who sits
+And looks out on the palpitating world,
+And feels his heart swell in him large enough
+To hold all men within it, he is near
+His great Creator's standard, though he dwells
+Outside the pale of churches, and knows not
+A feast-day from a fast-day, or a line
+Of Scripture even. What God wants of us
+Is that outreaching bigness that ignores
+All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds,
+And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace.
+
+
+
+A MARCH SNOW.
+
+
+Let the old snow be covered with the new:
+  The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.
+Let it be hidden wholly from our view
+  By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.
+When Winter dies, low at the sweet Spring's feet,
+Let him be mantled in a clean, white sheet.
+
+Let the old life be covered by the new:
+  The old past life so full of sad mistakes,
+Let it be wholly hidden from the view
+  By deeds as white and silent as snow-flakes.
+Ere this earth life melts in the eternal Spring
+Let the white mantle of repentance, fling
+Soft drapery about it, fold on fold,
+Even as the new snow covers up the old.
+
+
+
+AFTER THE BATTLES ARE OVER.
+
+[Read at Re-union of the G. A. T., Madison, Wis., July 4, 1872.]
+
+
+After the battles are over,
+  And the war drums cease to beat,
+And no more is heard on the hillside
+  The sound of hurrying feet,
+Full many a noble action,
+  That was done in the days of strife,
+By the soldier is half forgotten,
+  In the peaceful walks of life.
+
+Just as the tangled grasses,
+  In Summer's warmth and light,
+Grow over the graves of the fallen
+  And hide them away from sight,
+So many an act of valor,
+  And many a deed sublime,
+Fade from the mind of the soldier,
+  O'ergrown by the grass of time.
+
+Not so should they be rewarded,
+  Those noble deeds of old;
+They should live forever and ever,
+  When the heroes' hearts are cold.
+Then rally, ye brave old comrades,
+  Old veterans, re-unite!
+Uproot Time's tangled grasses--
+  Live over the march, and the fight.
+
+Let Grant come up from the White House,
+  And clasp each brother's hand,
+First chieftain of the army,
+  Last chieftain of the land.
+Let him rest from a nation's burdens,
+  And go, in thought, with his men,
+Through the fire and smoke of Shiloh,
+  And save the day again.
+
+This silent hero of battles
+  Knew no such word as defeat.
+It was left for the rebels' learning,
+  Along with the word--retreat.
+He was not given to talking,
+  But he found that guns would preach
+In a way that was more convincing
+  Than fine and flowery speech.
+
+Three cheers for the grave commander
+  Of the grand old Tennessee!
+Who won the first great battle--
+  Gained the first great victory.
+His motto was always "Conquer,"
+  "Success" was his countersign,
+And "though it took all Summer,"
+  He kept fighting upon "that line."
+
+Let Sherman, the stern old General,
+  Come rallying with his men;
+Let them march once more through Georgia
+  And down to the sea again.
+Oh! that grand old tramp to Savannah,
+  Three hundred miles to the coast,
+It will live in the heart of the nation,
+  Forever its pride and boast.
+
+As Sheridan went to the battle,
+  When a score of miles away,
+He has come to the feast and banquet,
+  By the iron horse, to-day.
+Its pace is not much swifter
+  Than the pace of that famous steed
+Which bore him down to the contest
+  And saved the day by his speed.
+
+Then go over the ground to-day, boys,
+  Tread each remembered spot.
+It will be a gleesome journey,
+  On the swift-shod feet of thought;
+You can fight a bloodless battle,
+  You can skirmish along the route,
+But it's not worth while to forage,
+  There are rations enough without.
+
+Don't start if you hear the cannon,
+  It is not the sound of doom,
+It does not call to the contest--
+  To the battle's smoke and gloom.
+"Let us have peace," was spoken,
+  And lo! peace ruled again;
+And now the nation is shouting,
+  Through the cannon's voice, "Amen."
+
+O boys who besieged old Vicksburg,
+  Can time e'er wash away
+The triumph of her surrender,
+  Nine years ago to-day?
+Can you ever forget the moment,
+  When you saw the flag of white,
+That told how the grim old city
+  Had fallen in her might?
+
+Ah, 'twas a bold brave army,
+  When the boys, with a right good will,
+Went gayly marching and singing
+  To the fight at Champion Hill.
+They met with a warm reception,
+  But the soul of "Old John Brown"
+Was abroad on that field of battle,
+  And our flag did NOT go down.
+
+Come, heroes of Look Out Mountain,
+  Of Corinth and Donelson,
+Of Kenesaw and Atlanta,
+  And tell how the day was won!
+Hush! bow the head for a moment--
+  There are those who cannot come.
+No bugle-call can arouse them--
+  No sound of fife or drum.
+
+Oh, boys who died for the country,
+  Oh, dear and sainted dead!
+What can we say about you
+  That has not once been said?
+Whether you fell in the contest,
+  Struck down by shot and shell,
+Or pined 'neath the hand of sickness
+  Or starved in the prison cell,
+
+We know that you died for Freedom,
+  To save our land from shame,
+To rescue a periled Nation,
+  And we give you deathless fame.
+'T was the cause of Truth and Justice
+  That you fought and perished for,
+And we say it, oh, so gently,
+  "Our boys who died in the war."
+
+Saviors of our Republic,
+  Heroes who wore the blue,
+We owe the peace that surrounds us--
+  And our Nation's strength to you.
+We owe it to you that our banner,
+  The fairest flag in the world,
+Is to-day unstained, unsullied,
+  On the Summer air unfurled.
+
+We look on its stripes and spangles,
+  And our hearts are filled the while
+With love for the brave commanders,
+  And the boys of the rank and file.
+The grandest deeds of valor
+  Were never written out,
+The noblest acts of virtue
+  The world knows nothing about.
+
+And many a private soldier,
+  Who walks his humble way,
+With no sounding name or title,
+  Unknown to the world to-day,
+In the eyes of God is a hero
+  As worthy of the bays,
+As any mighty General
+  To whom the world gives praise.
+
+Brave men of a mighty army,
+  We extend you friendship's hand!
+I speak for the "Loyal Women,"
+  Those pillars of our land.
+We wish you a hearty welcome,
+  We are proud that you gather here
+To talk of old times together
+  On this brightest day in the year.
+
+And if Peace, whose snow-white pinions,
+  Brood over our land to-day,
+Should ever again go from us,
+  (God grant she may ever stay!)
+Should our Nation call in her peril
+  For "Six hundred thousand more,"
+The loyal women would hear her,
+  And send you out as before.
+
+We would bring out the treasured knapsack,
+  We would take the sword from the wall,
+And hushing our own hearts' pleadings,
+  Hear only the country's call.
+For next to our God, is our Nation;
+  And we cherish the honored name,
+Of the bravest of all brave armies
+  Who fought for that Nation's fame.
+
+
+
+NOBLESSE OBLIGE.
+
+
+I hold it the duty of one who is gifted,
+  And specially dowered in all men's sight,
+To know no rest till his life is lifted
+  Fully up to his great gifts' height.
+
+He must mold the man into rare completeness,
+  For gems are set only in gold refined.
+He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness,
+  And cast out folly and pride from his mind.
+
+For he who drinks from a god's gold fountain
+  Of art or music or rhythmic song
+Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice,
+  And weed from his heart the roots of wrong.
+
+Great gifts should be worn, like a crown befitting!
+  And not like gems in a beggar's hands.
+And the toil must be constant and unremitting
+  Which lifts up the king to the crown's demands.
+
+
+
+AND THEY ARE DUMB.
+
+
+I have been across the bridges of the years.
+      Wet with tears
+Were the ties on which I trod, going back
+      Down the track
+To the valley where I left, 'neath skies of Truth,
+      My lost youth.
+
+As I went, I dropped my burdens, one and all--
+      Let them fall;
+All my sorrows, all my wrinkles, all my care,
+      My white hair,
+I laid down, like some lone pilgrim's heavy pack,
+      By the track.
+
+As I neared the happy valley with light feet,
+      My heart beat
+To the rhythm of a song I used to know
+      Long ago,
+And my spirits gushed and bubbled like a fountain
+      Down a mountain.
+
+On the border of that valley I found you,
+      Tried and true;
+And we wandered through the golden Summer-Land
+      Hand in hand.
+And my pulses beat with rapture in the blisses
+      Of your kisses.
+
+And we met there, in those green and verdant places,
+      Smiling faces,
+And sweet laughter echoed upward from the dells
+      Like gold bells.
+And the world was spilling over with the glory
+      Of Youth's story.
+
+It was but a dreamer's journey of the brain;
+      And again
+I have left the happy valley far behind;
+      And I find
+Time stands waiting with his burdens in a pack
+      For my back.
+
+As he speeds me, like a rough, well-meaning friend,
+      To the end,
+Will I find again the lost ones loved so well?
+      Who can tell!
+But the dead know what the life will be to come--
+      And they are dumb!
+
+
+
+NIGHT.
+
+
+As some dusk mother shields from all alarms
+  The tired child she gathers to her breast,
+The brunette Night doth fold me in her arms,
+  And hushes me to perfect peace and rest.
+Her eyes of stars shine on me, and I hear
+Her voice of winds low crooning on my ear.
+O Night, O Night, how beautiful thou art!
+Come, fold me closer to thy pulsing heart.
+
+The day is full of gladness, and the light
+  So beautifies the common outer things,
+I only see with my external sight,
+  And only hear the great world's voice which rings
+But silently from daylight and from din
+The sweet Night draws me--whispers, "Look within!"
+And looking, as one wakened from a dream,
+I see what _is_--no longer what doth seem.
+
+The Night says, "Listen!" and upon my ear
+  Revealed, as are the visions to my sight,
+The voices known as "Beautiful" come near
+  And whisper of the vastly Infinite.
+Great, blue-eyed Truth, her sister Purity,
+Their brother Honor, all converse with me,
+And kiss my brow, and say, "Be brave of heart!"
+O holy three! how beautiful thou art!
+
+The Night says, "Child, sleep that thou may'st arise
+  Strong for to-morrow's struggle." And I feel
+Her shadowy fingers pressing on my eyes:
+  Like thistledown I float to the Ideal--
+The Slumberland, made beautiful and bright
+As death, by dreams of loved ones gone from sight,
+O food for soul's, sweet dreams of pure delight,
+How beautiful the holy hours of Night!
+
+
+
+ALL FOR ME.
+
+
+The world grows green on a thousand hills--
+  By a thousand willows the bees are humming,
+And a million birds by a million rills,
+  Sing of the golden season coming.
+But, gazing out on the sun-kist lea,
+  And hearing a thrush and a blue-bird singing,
+I feel that the Summer is all for me,
+  And all for me are the joys it is bringing.
+
+All for me the bumble-bee
+  Drones his song in the perfect weather;
+And, just on purpose to sing to me,
+  Thrush and blue-bird came North together.
+Just for me, in red and white,
+  Bloom and blossom the fields of clover;
+And all for me and my delight
+  The wild Wind follows and plays the lover.
+
+The mighty sun, with a scorching kiss
+  (I have read, and heard, and do not doubt it)
+Has burned up a thousand worlds like this,
+  And never stopped to think about it.
+And yet I believe he hurries up
+  Just on purpose to kiss my flowers--
+To drink the dew from the lily-cup,
+  And help it to grow through golden hours.
+
+I know I am only a speck of dust,
+  An individual mite of masses,
+Clinging upon the outer crust
+  Of a little ball of cooling gases.
+And yet, and yet, say what you will,
+  And laugh, if you please, at my lack of reason,
+For me wholly, and for me still,
+  Blooms and blossoms the Summer season.
+
+Nobody else has ever heard
+  The story the Wind to me discloses;
+And none but I and the humming-bird
+  Can read the hearts of the crimson roses.
+Ah, my Summer--my love--my own!
+  The world grows glad in your smiling weather;
+Yet all for me, and me alone,
+  You and your Court came north together.
+
+
+
+PHILOSOPHY.
+
+
+At morn the wise man walked abroad,
+  Proud with the learning of great fools.
+He laughed and said, "There is no God--
+  'Tis force creates, 'tis reason rules."
+
+Meek with the wisdom of great faith,
+  At night he knelt while angels smiled,
+And wept and cried with anguished breath,
+  "Jehovah, _God_, save thou my child."
+
+
+
+"CARLOS."
+
+
+Last night I knelt low at my lady's feet.
+One soft, caressing hand played with my hair,
+And one I kissed and fondled. Kneeling there,
+I deemed my meed of happiness complete.
+
+She was so fair, so full of witching wiles--
+Of fascinating tricks of mouth and eye;
+So womanly withal, but not too shy--
+And all my heaven was compassed by her smiles.
+
+Her soft touch on my cheek and forehead sent,
+Like little arrows, thrills of tenderness
+Through all my frame. I trembled with excess
+Of love, and sighed the sigh of great content.
+
+When any mortal dares to so rejoice,
+I think a jealous Heaven, bending low,
+Reaches a stern hand forth and deals a blow.
+Sweet through the dusk I heard my lady's voice.
+
+"My love!" she sighed, "My Carlos!" even now
+I feel the perfumed zephyr of her breath
+Bearing to me those words of living death,
+And starting out the cold drops on my brow.
+
+For I am _Paul_--not Carlos! Who is he
+That, in the supreme hour of love's delight,
+Veiled by the shadows of the falling night,
+She should breathe low his name, forgetting me?
+
+I will not ask her! 'twere a fruitless task,
+For, woman-like, she would make me believe
+Some well-told tale; and sigh, and seem to grieve,
+And call me cruel. Nay, I will not ask.
+
+But this man Carlos, whosoe'er he be,
+Has turned my cup of nectar into gall,
+Since I know he has claimed some one or all
+Of these delights my lady grants to me.
+
+He must have knelt and kissed her, in some sad
+And tender twilight, when the day grew dim.
+How else could I remind her so of him?
+Why, reveries like these have made men mad!
+
+He must have felt her soft hand on his brow.
+If Heaven was shocked at such presumptuous wrongs,
+And plunged him in the grave, where he belongs,
+_Still she remembers_, though she loves me now.
+
+And if he lives, and meets me to his cost,
+Why, what avails it? I must hear and see
+That curst name "Carlos" always haunting me--
+So has another Paradise been lost.
+
+
+
+THE TWO GLASSES.
+
+
+There sat two glasses filled to the brim,
+On a rich man's table, rim to rim.
+One was ruddy and red as blood,
+And one was clear as the crystal flood.
+
+Said the glass of wine to his paler brother,
+"Let us tell tales of the past to each other;
+I can tell of a banquet, and revel, and mirth,
+Where I was king, for I ruled in might;
+For the proudest and grandest souls on earth
+Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.
+From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;
+From the heights of fame I have hurled men down.
+I have blasted many an honored name;
+I have taken virtue and given shame;
+I have tempted the youth with a sip, a taste,
+That has made his future a barren waste.
+Far greater than any king am I,
+Or than any army beneath the sky.
+I have made the arm of the driver fail,
+And sent the train from the iron rail.
+I have made good ships go down at sea,
+And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.
+Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall;
+And my might and power are over all!
+Ho, ho! pale brother," said the wine,
+"Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?"
+
+Said the water-glass: "I cannot boast
+Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host,
+But I can tell of hearts that were sad
+By my crystal drops made bright and glad;
+Of thirsts I have quenched, and brows I have laved;
+Of hands I have cooled, and souls I have saved.
+I have leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain,
+Slept in the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain.
+I have burst my cloud-fetters, and dropped from the sky.
+And everywhere gladdened the prospect and eye;
+I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain;
+I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain.
+I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill,
+That ground out the flour, and turned at my will.
+I can tell of manhood debased by you,
+That I have uplifted and crowned anew
+I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid;
+I gladden the heart of man and maid;
+I set the wine-chained captive free,
+And all are better for knowing me."
+
+These are the tales they told each other,
+The glass of wine and its paler brother,
+As they sat together, filled to the brim,
+On a rich man's table, rim to rim.
+
+
+
+THROUGH TEARS.
+
+
+An artist toiled over his pictures;
+  He labored by night and by day.
+He struggled for glory and honor,
+  But the world, it had nothing to say.
+His walls were ablaze with the splendors
+  We see in the beautiful skies;
+But the world beheld only the colors
+  That were made out of chemical dyes.
+
+Time sped. And he lived, loved, and suffered;
+  He passed through the valley of grief.
+Again he toiled over his canvas,
+  Since in labor alone was relief.
+It showed not the splendor of colors
+  Of those of his earlier years,
+But the world? the world bowed down before it,
+  Because it was painted with tears.
+
+A poet was gifted with genius,
+  And he sang, and he sang all the days.
+He wrote for the praise of the people,
+  But the people accorded no praise.
+Oh, his songs were as blithe as the morning,
+  As sweet as the music of birds;
+But the world had no homage to offer,
+  Because they were nothing but words.
+
+Time sped. And the poet through sorrow
+  Became like his suffering kind.
+Again he toiled over his poems
+  To lighten the grief of his mind.
+They were not so flowing and rhythmic
+  As those of his earlier years,
+But the world? lo! it offered its homage
+  Because they were written in tears.
+
+So ever the price must be given
+  By those seeking glory in art;
+So ever the world is repaying
+  The grief-stricken, suffering heart.
+The happy must ever be humble;
+  Ambition must wait for the years,
+Ere hoping to win the approval
+  Of a world that looks on through its tears.
+
+
+
+INTO SPACE.
+
+
+If the sad old world should jump a cog
+  Sometime, in its dizzy spinning,
+And go off the track with a sudden jog,
+  What an end would come to the sinning.
+What a rest from strife and the burdens of life
+  For the millions of people in it,
+What a way out of care, and worry and wear,
+  All in a beautiful minute.
+
+As 'round the sun with a curving sweep
+  It hurries and runs and races,
+Should it lose its balance, and go with a leap
+  Into the vast sea-spaces,
+What a blest relief it would bring to the grief,
+  And the trouble and toil about us,
+To be suddenly hurled from the solar world
+  And let it go on without us.
+
+With not a sigh or a sad good-by
+  For loved ones left behind us,
+We would go with a lunge and a mighty plunge
+  Where never a grave should find us.
+What a wild mad thrill our veins would fill
+  As the great earth, life a feather,
+Should float through the air to God knows where,
+  And carry us all together.
+
+No dark, damp tomb and no mourner's gloom,
+  No tolling bell in the steeple,
+But in one swift breath a painless death
+  For a million billion people.
+What greater bliss could we ask than this,
+  To sweep with a bird's free motion
+Through leagues of space to a resting place,
+  In a vast and vapory ocean--
+To pass away from this life for aye
+  With never a dear tie sundered,
+And a world on fire for a funeral pyre,
+  While the stars looked on and wondered?
+
+
+
+THROUGH DIM EYES.
+
+
+Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder?
+I see not the grace that I used to see
+In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or
+In the boughs of the willow tree.
+The brook runs slower--its song seems lower,
+And not the song that it sang of old;
+And the tree I admired looks weary and tired
+Of the changeless story of heat and cold.
+
+When the sun goes up, and the stars go under,
+In that supreme hour of the breaking day,
+Is it my eyes, or the dawn I wonder,
+That finds less of the gold, and more of the gray?
+I see not the splendor, the tints so tender,
+The rose-hued glory I used to see;
+And I often borrow a vague half-sorrow
+That another morning has dawned for me.
+
+When the royal smile of that welcome comer
+Beams on the meadow and burns in the sky,
+Is it my eyes, or does the Summer
+Bring less of bloom than in days gone by?
+The beauty that thrilled me, the rapture that filled me,
+To an overflowing of happy tears,
+I pass unseeing, my sad eyes being
+Dimmed by the shadow of vanished years.
+
+When the heart grows weary, all things seem dreary;
+When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long.
+Thank God for sending kind death as an ending,
+Like a grand Amen to a minor song.
+
+
+
+LA MORT D'AMOUR.
+
+
+When was it that love died? We were so fond,
+  So very fond, a little while ago.
+  With leaping pulses, and blood all aglow,
+We dreamed about a sweeter life beyond,
+
+When we should dwell together as one heart,
+  And scarce could wait that happy time to come.
+  Now side by side we sit with lips quite dumb,
+And feel ourselves a thousand miles apart.
+
+How was it that love died! I do not know.
+  I only know that all its grace untold
+  Has faded into gray! I miss the gold
+From our dull skies; but did not see it go.
+
+Why should love die? We prized it, I am sure;
+  We thought of nothing else when it was ours;
+  We cherished it in smiling, sunlit bowers;
+It was our all; why could it not endure?
+
+Alas, we know not how, or when or why
+  This dear thing died. We only know it went,
+  And left us dull, cold, and indifferent;
+We who found heaven once in each other's sigh.
+
+How pitiful it is, and yet how true
+  That half the lovers in the world, one day,
+  Look questioning in each other's eyes this way
+And know love's gone forever, as we do.
+
+Sometimes I cannot help but think, dear heart,
+  As I look out o'er all the wide, sad earth
+  And see love's flame gone out on many a hearth,
+That those who would keep love must dwell apart.
+
+
+
+THE PUNISHED.
+
+
+Not they who know the awful gibbet's anguish,
+  Not they who, while sad years go by them, in
+The sunless cells of lonely prisons languish,
+  Do suffer fullest penalty for sin.
+
+'Tis they who walk the highways unsuspected
+  Yet with grim fear forever at their side,
+Who hug the corpse of some sin undetected,
+  A corpse no grave or coffin-lid can hide--
+
+'Tis they who are in their own chambers haunted
+  By thoughts that like unbidden guests intrude,
+And sit down, uninvited and unwanted,
+  And make a nightmare of the solitude.
+
+
+
+HALF FLEDGED.
+
+
+I feel the stirrings in me of great things.
+New half-fledged thoughts rise up and beat their wings,
+And tremble on the margin of their nest,
+Then flutter back, and hide within my breast.
+
+Beholding space, they doubt their untried strength.
+Beholding men, they fear them. But at length
+Grown all too great and active for the heart
+That broods them with such tender mother art,
+Forgetting fear, and men, and all, that hour,
+Save the impelling consciousness of power
+That stirs within them--they shall soar away
+Up to the very portals of the Day.
+
+Oh, what exultant rapture thrills me through
+When I contemplate all those thoughts may do;
+Like snow-white eagles penetrating space,
+They may explore full many an unknown place,
+And build their nests on mountain heights unseen,
+Whereon doth lie that dreamed-of rest serene.
+
+Stay thou a little longer in my breast,
+Till my fond heart shall push thee from the nest,
+Anxious to see thee soar to heights divine--
+Oh, beautiful but half-fledged thoughts of mine.
+
+
+
+LOVE'S SLEEP.
+
+(Vers de Société.)
+
+
+We'll cover Love with roses,
+  And sweet sleep he shall take.
+None but a fool supposes
+  Love always keeps awake.
+I've known loves without number.
+  True loves were they, and tried;
+And just for want of slumber
+  They pined away and died.
+
+Our love was bright and cheerful
+  A little while agone;
+Now he is pale and tearful,
+  And--yes, I've seen him yawn.
+So tired is he of kisses
+  That he can only weep;
+The one dear thing he misses
+  And longs for now is sleep.
+
+We could not let him leave us
+  One time, he was so dear,
+But now it would not grieve us
+  If he slept half a year.
+For he has had his season,
+  Like the lily and the rose,
+And it but stands to reason
+  That he should want repose.
+
+We prized the smiling Cupid
+  Who made our days so bright;
+But he has grown so stupid
+  We gladly say good-night.
+And if he wakens tender
+  And fond, and fair as when
+He filled our lives with splendor,
+  We'll take him back again.
+
+And should he never waken,
+  As that perchance may be,
+We will not weep forsaken,
+  But sing, "Love, tra-la-lee!"
+
+
+
+TRUE CULTURE.
+
+
+The highest culture is to speak no ill;
+The best reformer is the man whose eyes
+Are quick to see all beauty and all worth;
+And by his own discreet, well-ordered life,
+Alone reproves the erring.
+                          When they gaze
+Turns it on thine own soul, be most severe.
+But when it falls upon a fellow-man
+Let kindliness control it; and refrain
+From that belittling censure that springs forth
+From common lips like weeds from marshy soil.
+
+
+
+THE VOLUPTUARY.
+
+
+Oh, I am sick of love reciprocated,
+  Of hopes fulfilled, ambitions gratified.
+Life holds no thing to be anticipated,
+  And I am sad from being satisfied.
+
+The eager joy felt climbing up the mountain
+  Has left me now the highest point is gained.
+The crystal spray that fell from Fame's fair fountain
+  Was sweeter than the waters were when drained.
+
+The gilded apple which the world calls pleasure,
+  And which I purchased with my youth and strength,
+Pleased me a moment. But the empty treasure
+  Lost all its lustre, and grew dim at length.
+
+And love, all glowing with a golden glory,
+  Delighted me a season with its tale.
+It pleased the longest, but at last the story
+  So oft repeated, to my heart grew stale.
+
+I lived for self, and all I asked was given,
+  I have had all, and now am sick of bliss,
+No other punishment designed by Heaven
+  Could strike me half so forcibly as this.
+
+I feel no sense of aught but enervation
+  In all the joys my selfish aims have brought,
+And know no wish but for annihilation,
+  Since that would give me freedom from the thought.
+
+Oh, blest is he who has some aim defeated;
+  Some mighty loss to balance all his gain.
+For him there is a hope not yet completed;
+  For him hath life yet draughts of joy and pain.
+
+But cursed is he who has no balked ambition,
+  No hopeless hope, no loss beyond repair,
+But sick and sated with complete fruition,
+  Keeps not the pleasure even of despair.
+
+
+
+THE YEAR.
+
+
+What can be said in New Year rhymes,
+That's not been said a thousand times?
+
+The new years come, the old years go,
+We know we dream, we dream we know.
+
+We rise up laughing with the light,
+We lie down weeping with the night.
+
+We hug the world until it stings,
+We curse it then and sigh for wings.
+
+We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
+We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.
+
+We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
+And that's the burden of the year.
+
+
+
+THE UNATTAINED.
+
+
+A vision beauteous as the morn,
+  With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming,
+Slow glided o'er a field late shorn
+  Where walked a poet idly dreaming.
+He saw her, and joy lit his face,
+  "Oh, vanish not at human speaking,"
+He cried, "thou form of magic grace,
+  Thou art the poem I am seeking.
+
+"I've sought thee long! I claim thee now--
+  My thought embodied, living, real."
+She shook the tresses from her brow.
+  "Nay, nay!" she said, "I am ideal.
+I am the phantom of desire--
+  The spirit of all great endeavor,
+I am the voice that says, 'Come higher,'
+  That calls men up and up forever.
+
+"'Tis not alone thy thought supreme
+  That here upon thy path has risen;
+I am the artist's highest dream,
+  The ray of light he cannot prison.
+I am the sweet ecstatic note
+  Than all glad music gladder, clearer,
+That trembles in the singer's throat,
+  And dies without a human hearer.
+
+"I am the greater, better yield,
+  That leads and cheers thy farmer neighbor,
+For me he bravely tills the field
+  And whistles gayly at his labor.
+Not thou alone, O poet soul,
+  Dost seek me through an endless morrow,
+But to the toiling, hoping whole
+  I am at once the hope and sorrow.
+
+The spirit of the unattained,
+  I am to those who seek to name me,
+A good desired but never gained.
+  All shall pursue, but none shall claim me."
+
+
+
+IN THE CROWD.
+
+
+How happy they are, in all seeming,
+  How gay, or how smilingly proud,
+How brightly their faces are beaming,
+  These people who make up the crowd.
+How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,
+  How they look at each other and smile,
+How they glow, and what _bon mots_ they utter!
+  But a strange thought has found me the while!
+
+It is odd, but I stand here and fancy
+  These people who now play a part,
+All forced by some strange necromancy
+  To speak, and to act, from the heart.
+What a hush would come over the laughter!
+  What a silence would fall on the mirth!
+And then what a wail would sweep after,
+  As the night-wind sweeps over the earth.
+
+If the secrets held under and hidden
+  In the intricate hearts of the crowd,
+Were suddenly called to, and bidden
+  To rise up and cry out aloud,
+How strange one would look to another!
+  Old friends of long standing and years--
+Own brothers would not know each other,
+  Robed new in their sorrows and fears.
+
+From broadcloth, and velvet, and laces,
+  Would echo the groans of despair,
+And there would be blanching of faces
+  And wringing of hands and of hair.
+That man with his record of honor,
+  That lady down there with the rose,
+That girl with Spring's freshness upon her,
+  Who knoweth the secrets of those?
+
+Smile on, O ye maskers, smile sweetly!
+  Step lightly, bow low and laugh loud!
+Though the world is deceived and completely,
+  I know ye, O sad-hearted crowd!
+I watch you with infinite pity:
+  But play on, play ever your part,
+Be gleeful, be joyful, be witty!
+  'Tis better than showing the heart.
+
+
+
+LIFE AND I.
+
+
+Life and I are lovers, straying
+  Arm in arm along:
+Often like two children Maying,
+  Full of mirth and song.
+
+Life plucks all the blooming hours
+  Growing by the way;
+Binds them on my brow like flowers;
+  Calls me Queen of May.
+
+Then again, in rainy weather,
+  We sit vis-a-vis,
+Planning work we'll do together
+  In the years to be.
+
+Sometimes Life denies me blisses,
+  And I frown or pout;
+But we make it up with kisses
+  Ere the day is out.
+
+Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,
+  Try his trust and faith,
+Saying I shall one day leave him
+  For his rival Death.
+
+Then he always grows more zealous,
+  Tender, and more true;
+Loves the more for being jealous,
+  As all lovers do.
+
+Though I swear by stars above him,
+  And by worlds beyond,
+That I love him--love him--love him;
+  Though my heart is fond;
+
+Though he gives me, doth my lover,
+  Kisses with each breath--
+I shall one day throw him over,
+  And plight troth with Death.
+
+
+
+GUERDON.
+
+
+Upon the white cheek of the Cherub Year
+      I saw a tear.
+Alas! I murmured, that the Year should borrow
+      So soon a sorrow.
+Just then the sunlight fell with sudden flame:
+      The tear became
+A wond'rous diamond sparkling in the light--
+      A beauteous sight.
+
+Upon my soul there fell such woeful loss,
+      I said, "The Cross
+Is grievous for a life as young as mine."
+      Just then, like wine,
+God's sunlight shone from His high Heavens down;
+      And lo! a crown
+Gleamed in the place of what I thought a burden--
+      My sorrow's guerdon.
+
+
+
+SNOWED UNDER.
+
+
+Of a thousand things that the Year snowed under--
+  The busy Old Year who has gone away--
+How many will rise in the Spring, I wonder,
+  Brought to life by the sun of May?
+Will the rose-tree branches, so wholly hidden
+  That never a rose-tree seems to be,
+At the sweet Spring's call come forth unbidden,
+  And bud in beauty, and bloom for me?
+
+Will the fair, green Earth, whose throbbing bosom
+  Is hid like a maid's in her gown at night,
+Wake out of her sleep, and with blade and blossom
+  Gem her garments to please my sight?
+Over the knoll in the valley yonder
+  The loveliest buttercups bloomed and grew;
+When the snow has gone that drifted them under,
+  Will they shoot up sunward, and bloom anew?
+
+When wild winds blew, and a sleet-storm pelted,
+  I lost a jewel of priceless worth;
+If I walk that way when snows have melted,
+  Will the gem gleam up from the bare, brown Earth?
+I laid a love that was dead or dying,
+  For the year to bury and hide from sight;
+But out of a trance will it waken, crying,
+  And push to my heart, like a leaf to the light?
+
+Under the snow lie things so cherished--
+  Hopes, ambitions, and dreams of men--
+Faces that vanished, and trusts that perished,
+  Never to sparkle and glow again.
+The Old Year greedily grasped his plunder,
+  And covered it over and hurried away:
+Of the thousand things that he did, I wonder
+  How many will rise at the call of May?
+O wise Young Year, with your hands held under
+  Your mantle of ermine, tell me, pray!
+
+
+
+PLATONIC.
+
+
+I knew it the first of the Summer--
+  I knew it the same at the end--
+That you and your love were plighted,
+  But couldn't you be my friend?
+Couldn't we sit in the twilight,
+  Couldn't we walk on the shore,
+With only a pleasant friendship
+  To bind us, and nothing more?
+
+There was never a word of nonsense
+  Spoken between us two,
+Though we lingered oft in the garden
+  Till the roses were wet with dew.
+We touched on a thousand subjects--
+  The moon and the stars above;
+But our talk was tinctured with science,
+  With never a hint of love.
+
+"A wholly platonic friendship,"
+  You said I had proved to you,
+"Could bind a man and a woman
+  The whole long season through,
+With never a thought of folly,
+  Though both are in their youth."
+What would you have said, my lady,
+  If you had known the truth?
+
+Had I done what my mad heart prompted--
+  Gone down on my knees to you,
+And told you my passionate story
+  There in the dusk and dew;
+My burning, burdensome story,
+  Hidden and hushed so long,
+My story of hopeless loving--
+  Say, would you have thought it wrong?
+
+But I fought with my heart and conquered:
+  I hid my wound from sight;
+You were going away in the morning
+  And I said a calm good-night.
+But now, when I sit in the twilight
+  Or when I walk by the sea,
+That friendship quite "platonic"
+  Comes surging over me.
+And a passionate longing fills me
+  For the roses, the dusk and the dew,--
+For the beautiful Summer vanished--
+  For the moonlit talks--and you.
+
+
+
+WHAT WE NEEDED.
+
+
+What does our country need? Not armies standing
+  With sabres gleaming ready for the fight.
+Not increased navies, skillful and commanding,
+  To bound the waters with an iron might.
+Not haughty men with glutted purses trying
+  To purchase souls, and keep the power of place.
+Not jeweled dolls with one another vieing
+  For palms of beauty, elegance and grace.
+
+But we want women, strong of soul, yet lowly,
+  With that rare meekness, born of gentleness,
+Women whose lives are pure and clean and holy,
+  The women whom all little children bless.
+Brave, earnest women, helpful to each other,
+  With finest scorn for all things low and mean.
+Women who hold the names of wife and mother,
+  Far nobler than the title of a Queen.
+
+O these are they who mold the men of story,
+  These mothers, ofttimes shorn of grace and youth,
+Who, worn and weary, ask no greater glory
+  Than making some young soul the home of truth,
+Who sow in hearts all fallow for the sowing
+  The seeds of virtue and of scorn for sin,
+And, patient, watch the beauteous harvest growing
+  And weed out tares which crafty hands cast in.
+
+Women who do not hold the gift of beauty
+  As some rare treasure to be bought and sold,
+But guard it as a precious aid to duty--
+  The outer framing of the inner gold;
+Women who, low above their cradles bending,
+  Let flattery's voice go by, and give no heed,
+While their pure prayers like incense are ascending:
+ _These_ are our country's pride, our country's need.
+
+
+
+"LEUDEMANN'S-ON-THE-RIVER."
+
+
+Toward even when the day leans down
+  To kiss the upturned face of night,
+Out just beyond the loud-voiced town
+  I know a spot of calm delight.
+Like crimson arrows from a quiver
+  The red rays pierce the waters flowing
+While we go dreaming, singing, rowing
+  To Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+The hills, like some glad mocking-bird,
+  Send back our laughter and our singing,
+While faint--and yet more faint is heard
+  The steeple bells all sweetly ringing.
+Some message did the winds deliver
+  To each glad heart that August night,
+All heard, but all heard not aright;
+  By Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+Night falls as in some foreign clime,
+  Between the hills that slope and rise.
+So dusk the shades at landing time,
+  We could not see each other's eyes.
+We only saw the moonbeams quiver
+  Far down upon the stream! that night
+The new moon gave but little light
+  By Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+How dusky were those paths that led
+  Up from the river to the hall.
+The tall trees branching overhead
+  Invite the early shades that fall.
+In all the glad blithe world, oh, never
+  Were hearts more free from care than when
+We wandered through those walks, we ten,
+  By Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+So soon, so soon, the changes came.
+  This August day we two alone,
+On that same river, not the same,
+  Dream of a night forever flown.
+Strange distances have come to sever
+  The hearts that gayly beat in pleasure,
+Long miles we cannot cross or measure--
+  From Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+We'll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day.
+  The green, the russet! seems it strange
+So soon, so soon, the leaves can change!
+  Ah, me! so runs all life away.
+This night wind chills me, and I shiver;
+  The Summer time is almost past.
+One more good-bye--perhaps the last
+  To Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+
+
+IN THE LONG RUN.
+
+
+In the long run fame finds the deserving man.
+  The lucky wight may prosper for a day,
+But in good time true merit leads the van,
+  And vain pretense, unnoticed, goes its way.
+There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate,
+But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait,
+      In the long run.
+
+In the long run all goodly sorrow pays,
+  There is no better thing than righteous pain,
+The sleepless nights, the awful thorn-crowned days,
+  Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain.
+Unmeaning joys enervate in the end.
+But sorrow yields a glorious dividend
+      In the long run.
+
+In the long run all hidden things are known,
+  The eye of truth will penetrate the night,
+And good or ill, thy secret shall be known,
+  However well 'tis guarded from the light.
+All the unspoken motives of the breast
+Are fathomed by the years and stand confest
+      In the long run.
+
+In the long run all love is paid by love,
+  Though undervalued by the hosts of earth;
+The great eternal Government above
+  Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth.
+Give thy love freely; do not count the cost;
+So beautiful a thing was never lost
+      In the long run.
+
+
+
+PLEA TO SCIENCE.
+
+
+O Science reaching backward through the distance,
+      Most earnest child of God,
+Exposing all the secrets of existence,
+      With thy divining rod,
+I bid thee speed up to the heights supernal,
+      Clear thinker, ne'er sufficed;
+Go seek and bind the laws and truths eternal,
+      But leave me Christ.
+
+Upon the vanity of pious sages
+      Let in the light of day.
+Break down the superstitions of all ages--
+      Thrust bigotry away;
+Stride on, and bid all stubborn foes defiance
+      Let Truth and Reason reign.
+But I beseech thee, O Immortal Science,
+      Let Christ remain.
+
+What canst thou give to help me bear my crosses,
+      In place of Him, my Lord?
+And what to recompense for all my losses,
+      And bring me sweet reward?
+_Thou_ couldst not with thy clear, cold eyes of reason,
+      Thou couldst not comfort me
+Like one who passed through that tear-blotted season,
+      In sad Gethsemane!
+
+Through all the weary, wearing hour of sorrow,
+      What word that thou hast said,
+Would make me strong to wait for some to-morrow
+      When I should find my dead?
+When I am weak, and desolate, and lonely--
+      And prone to follow wrong?
+Not thou, O Science--Christ, my Savior, only
+      Can make me strong.
+
+Thou are so cold, so lofty and so distant,
+      Though great my need might be,
+No prayer, however constant and persistent,
+      Could bring thee down to me.
+Christ stands so near, to help me through each hour,
+      To guide me day by day.
+O Science, sweeping all before thy power
+      Leave Christ, I pray!
+
+
+
+LOVE'S BURIAL.
+
+
+Let us clear a little space,
+And make Love a burial place.
+
+He is dead, dear, as you see,
+And he wearies you and me,
+
+Growing heavier, day by day,
+Let us bury him, I say.
+
+Wings of dead white butterflies,
+These shall shroud him, as he lies
+
+In his casket rich and rare,
+Made of finest maiden-hair.
+
+With the pollen of the rose
+Let us his white eye-lids close.
+
+Put the rose thorn in his hand,
+Shorn of leaves--you understand.
+
+Let some holy water fall
+On his dead face, tears of gall--
+
+As we kneel by him and say,
+"Dreams to dreams," and turn away.
+
+Those grave diggers, Doubt, Distrust,
+They will lower him to the dust.
+
+Let us part here with a kiss,
+You go that way, I go this.
+
+Since we buried Love to-day
+We will walk a separate way.
+
+
+
+LITTLE BLUE HOOD.
+
+
+Every morning and every night
+  There passes our window near the street,
+A little girl with an eye so bright,
+  And a cheek so round and a lip so sweet;
+The daintiest, jauntiest little miss
+That ever any one longed to kiss.
+
+She is neat as wax, and fresh to view,
+  And her look is wholesome and clean, and good.
+Whatever her gown, her hood is blue,
+  And so we call her our "Little Blue Hood,"
+For we know not the name of the dear little lass,
+But we call to each other to see her pass.
+
+"Little Blue Hood is coming now!"
+  And we watch from the window while she goes by,
+She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow,
+  And a fearless look in her long-lashed eye;
+And a certain dignity wedded to grace,
+Seems to envelop her form and face.
+
+Every morning, in sun or rain,
+  She walks by the window with sweet, grave air,
+And never guesses behind the pane
+  We two are watching and thinking her fair;
+Lovingly watching her down the street,
+Dear little Blue Hood, bright and sweet.
+
+Somebody ties that hood of blue
+  Under the face so fair to see,
+Somebody loves her, beside we two,
+  Somebody kisses her--why can't we?
+Dear Little Blue Hood fresh and fair,
+Are you glad we love you, or don't you care?
+
+
+
+NO SPRING.
+
+
+Up from the South come the birds that were banished,
+  Frightened away by the presence of frost.
+Back to the vale comes the verdure that vanished,
+  Back to the forest the leaves that were lost.
+Over the hillside the carpet of splendor,
+  Folded through Winter, Spring spreads down again;
+Along the horizon, the tints that were tender,
+  Lost hues of Summer time, burn bright as then.
+
+Only the mountains' high summits are hoary,
+  To the ice-fettered river the sun gives a key.
+Once more the gleaming shore lists to the story
+  Told by an amorous Summer-kissed sea.
+All things revive that in Winter time perished,
+  The rose buds again in the light o' the sun,
+All that was beautiful, all that was cherished,
+  Sweet things and dear things and all things--save one.
+
+Late, when the year and the roses were lying
+  Low with the ruins of Summer and bloom,
+Down in the dust fell a love that was dying,
+  And the snow piled above it, and made it a tomb.
+Lo! now! the roses are budded for blossom--
+  Lo! now! the Summer is risen again.
+Why dost thou bud not, O Love of my bosom?
+  Why dost thou rise not, and thrill me as then?
+
+Life without love, is a year without Summer,
+  Heart without love, is a wood without song.
+Rise then, revive then, thou indolent comer,
+  Why dost thou lie in the dark earth so long?
+Rise! ah, thou canst not! the rose-tree that sheddest
+  Its beautiful leaves, in the Spring time may bloom,
+But of cold things the coldest, of dead things the deadest,
+  Love buried once, rises not from the tomb.
+Green things may grow on the hillside and heather,
+  Birds seek the forest and build there and sing.
+All things revive in the beautiful weather,
+  But unto a dead love there cometh no Spring.
+
+
+
+LIPPO.
+
+
+Now we must part, my Lippo. Even so,
+I grieve to see thy sudden pained surprise;
+Gaze not on me with such accusing eyes--
+'T was thine own hand which dealt dear Love's death-blow.
+
+I loved thee fondly yesterday. Till then
+Thy heart was like a covered golden cup
+Always above my eager lip held up.
+I fancied thou wert not as other men.
+
+I knew that heart was filled with Love's sweet wine,
+Pressed wholly for my drinking. And my lip
+Grew parched with thirsting for one nectared sip
+Of what, denied me, seemed a draught divine.
+
+Last evening, in the gloaming, that cup spilled
+Its precious contents. Even to the lees
+Were offered to me, saying, "Drink of these!"
+And when I saw it empty, Love was killed.
+
+No word was left unsaid, no act undone,
+To prove to me thou wert my abject slave.
+Ah, Love! hadst thou been wise enough to save
+One little drop of that sweet wine--but one--
+
+I still had loved thee, longing for it then.
+But even the cup is mine. I look within,
+And find it holds not one last drop to win,
+And cast it down.--Thou art as other men.
+
+
+
+MIDSUMMER.
+
+
+After the May time, and after the June time
+  Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet,
+Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
+  The red midsummer of blazing heat.
+When the sun, like an eye that never closes,
+  Bends on the earth its fervid gaze,
+And the winds are still, and the crimson roses
+  Droop and wither and die in its rays.
+
+Unto my heart has come that season,
+  O my lady, my worshiped one,
+When over the stars of Pride and Reason
+  Sails Love's cloudless, noonday sun.
+Like a great red ball in my bosom burning
+  With fires that nothing can quench or tame.
+It glows till my heart itself seems turning
+  Into a liquid lake of flame.
+
+The hopes half shy, and the sighs all tender,
+  The dreams and fears of an earlier day,
+Under the noontide's royal splendor,
+  Droop like roses and wither away.
+From the hills of doubt no winds are blowing,
+  From the isle of pain no breeze is sent.
+Only the sun in a white heat glowing
+  Over an ocean of great content.
+
+Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory,
+  Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon,
+For the Autumn must come with its mournful story,
+  And Love's midsummer will fade too soon.
+
+
+
+A REMINISCENCE.
+
+
+I saw the wild honey-bee kissing a rose
+      A wee one, that grows
+Down low on the bush, where her sisters above
+      Cannot see all that's done
+      As the moments roll on.
+Nor hear all the whispers and murmurs of love.
+
+They flaunt out their beautiful leaves in the sun,
+      And they flirt, every one,
+With the wild bees who pass, and the gay butterflies.
+      And that wee thing in pink--
+      Why, they never once think
+That she's won a lover right under their eyes.
+
+It reminded me, Kate, of a time--you know when!
+      You were so petite then,
+Your dresses were short, and your feet were so small.
+      Your sisters, Maud-Belle
+      And Madeline--well,
+They _both_ set their caps for me, after that ball.
+
+How the blue eyes and black eyes smiled up in my face!
+      'T was a neck-and-neck race,
+Till that day when you opened the door in the hall,
+      And looked up and looked down,
+      With your sweet eyes of brown,
+And _you_ seemed so tiny, and _I_ felt so tall.
+
+Your sisters had sent you to keep me, my dear,
+      Till they should appear.
+Then you were dismissed like a child in disgrace.
+      How meekly you went!
+      But your brown eyes, they sent
+A thrill to my heart, and a flush to my face.
+
+We always were meeting some way after that.
+      You hung up my hat,
+And got it again, when I finished my call.
+      Sixteen, and _so_ sweet!
+      Oh, those cute little feet!
+Shall I ever forget how they tripped down the hall?
+
+Shall I ever forget the first kiss by the door,
+      Or the vows murmured o'er,
+Or the rage and surprise of Maud-Belle? Well-a-day,
+      How swiftly time flows,
+      And who would suppose
+That a _bee_ could have carried me so far away.
+
+
+
+RESPITE.
+
+
+The mighty conflict, which we call existence,
+  Doth wear upon the body and the soul.
+Our vital forces wasted in resistance,
+  So much there is to conquer and control.
+
+The rock which meets the billows with defiance.
+  Undaunted and unshaken day by day,
+In spite of its unyielding self-reliance,
+  Is by the warfare surely worn away.
+
+And there are depths and heights of strong emotions
+  That surge at times within the human breast,
+More fierce than all the tides of all the oceans
+  Which sweep on ever in divine unrest.
+
+I sometimes think the rock worn with adventures,
+  And sad with thoughts of conflicts yet to be,
+Must envy the frail reed which no one censures,
+  When overcome 'tis swallowed by the sea.
+
+This life is all resistance and repression,
+  Dear God, if in that other world unseen,
+Not rest, we find, but new life and progression,
+  Grant us a respite in the grave between.
+
+
+
+A GIRL'S FAITH.
+
+
+Across the miles that stretch between,
+  Through days of gloom or glad sunlight,
+There shines a face I have not seen
+  Which yet doth make my world more bright.
+
+He may be near, he may be far,
+  Or near or far I cannot see,
+But faithful as the morning star
+  He yet shall rise and come to me.
+
+What though fate leads us separate ways,
+  The world is round, and time is fleet.
+A journey of a few brief days,
+  And face to face we two shall meet.
+
+Shall meet beneath God's arching skies,
+  While suns shall blaze, or stars shall gleam,
+And looking in each other's eyes
+  Shall hold the past but as a dream.
+
+But round and perfect and complete,
+  Life like a star shall climb the height,
+As we two press with willing feet
+  Together toward the Infinite.
+
+And still behind the space between,
+  As back of dawns the sunbeams play,
+There shines the face I have not seen,
+  Whose smile shall wake my world to Day.
+
+
+
+TWO.
+
+
+One leaned on velvet cushions like a queen--
+  To see him pass, the hero of an hour,
+Whom men called great. She bowed with languid mien,
+  And smiled, and blushed, and knew her beauty's power.
+
+One trailed her tinseled garments through the street,
+  And thrust aside the crowd, and found a place
+So near, the blooded courser's praning feet
+  Cast sparks of fire upon her painted face.
+
+One took the hot-house blossoms from her breast,
+  And tossed them down, as he went riding by.
+And blushed rose-red to see them fondly pressed
+  To bearded lips, while eye spoke unto eye.
+
+One, bold and hardened with her sinful life,
+  Yet shrank and shivered painfully, because
+His cruel glance cut keener than a knife,
+  The glance of him who made her what she was.
+
+One was observed, and lifted up to fame,
+  Because the hero smiled upon her! while
+One who was shunned and hated, found her shame
+  In basking in the death-light of his smile.
+
+
+
+SLIPPING AWAY.
+
+
+Slipping away--slipping away!
+Out of our brief year slips the May;
+And Winter lingers, and Summer flies;
+And Sorrow abideth, and Pleasure dies;
+And the days are short, and the nights are long;
+And little is right, and much is wrong.
+
+Slipping away is the Summer time;
+It has lost its rhythm and lilting rhyme--
+For the grace goes out of the day so soon,
+And the tired head aches in the glare of noon,
+And the way seems long to the hills that lie
+Under the calm of the western sky.
+
+Slipping away are the friends whose worth
+Lent a glow to the sad old earth:
+One by one they slip from our sight;
+One by one their graves gleam white;
+Or we count them lost by the crueler death
+Of a trust betrayed, or a murdered faith.
+
+Slipping away are the hopes that made
+Bliss out of sorrow, and sun out of shade.
+Slipping away is our hold on life.
+And out of the struggle and wearing strife,
+From joys that diminish, and woes that increase,
+We are slipping away to the shores of Peace.
+
+
+
+IS IT DONE?
+
+
+It is done! in the fire's fitful flashes,
+  The last line has withered and curled.
+In a tiny white heap of dead ashes
+  Lie buried the hopes of your world.
+There were mad foolish vows in each letter,
+  It is well they have shriveled and burned,
+And the ring! oh, the ring was a fetter,
+  It was better removed and returned.
+
+But ah, is it done? in the embers
+  Where letters and tokens were cast,
+Have you burned up the heart that remembers,
+  And treasures its beautiful past?
+Do you think in this swift reckless fashion
+  To ruthlessly burn and destroy
+The months that were freighted with passion,
+  The dreams that were drunken with joy?
+
+Can you burn up the rapture of kisses
+  That flashed from the lips to the soul?
+Or the heart that grows sick for lost blisses
+  In spite of its strength of control?
+Have you burned up the touch of warm fingers
+  That thrilled through each pulse and each vein,
+Or the sound of a voice that still lingers
+  And hurts with a haunting refrain?
+
+Is it done? is the life drama ended?
+  You have put all the lights out, and yet,
+Though the curtain, rung down, has descended,
+  Can the actors go home and forget?
+Ah, no! they will turn in their sleeping
+  With a strange restless pain in their hearts,
+And in darkness, and anguish and weeping,
+  Will dream they are playing their parts.
+
+
+
+A LEAF.
+
+
+Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve,
+  That you were married, or soon to be.
+I have not thought of you, I believe,
+  Since last we parted. Let me see:
+Five long Summers have passed since then--
+  Each has been pleasant in its own way--
+And you are but one of a dozen men
+  Who have played the suitor a Summer day.
+
+But, nevertheless, when I heard your name,
+  Coupled with some one's, not my own,
+There burned in my bosom a sudden flame,
+  That carried me back to the day that is flown.
+I was sitting again by the laughing brook,
+  With you at my feet, and the sky above,
+And my heart was fluttering under your look--
+  The unmistakable look of Love.
+
+Again your breath, like a South wind, fanned
+  My cheek, where the blushes came and went;
+And the tender clasp of your strong, warm hand
+  Sudden thrills through my pulses sent.
+Again you were mine by Love's own right--
+  Mine forever by Love's decree:
+So for a moment it seemed last night,
+  When somebody mentioned your name to me.
+
+Just for the moment I thought you mine--
+  Loving me, wooing me, as of old.
+The tale remembered seemed half divine--
+  Though I held it lightly enough when told.
+The past seemed fairer than when it was near,
+  As "Blessings brighten when taking flight;"
+And just for the moment I held you dear--
+  When somebody mentioned your name last night.
+
+
+
+AESTHETIC.
+
+
+In a garb that was guiltless of colors
+  She stood, with a dull, listless air--
+A creature of dumps and of dolors,
+  But most undeniably fair.
+
+The folds of her garment fell round her,
+  Revealing the curve of each limb;
+Well proportioned and graceful I found her,
+  Although quite alarmingly slim.
+
+From the hem of her robe peeped one sandal--
+  "High art" was she down to her feet;
+And though I could not understand all
+  She said, I could see she was sweet.
+
+Impressed by her limpness and languor,
+  I proffered a chair near at hand;
+She looked back a mild sort of anger--
+  Posed anew, and continued to stand.
+
+Some praises I next tried to mutter
+  Of the fan that she held to her face;
+She said it was "utterly utter,"
+  And waved it with languishing grace.
+
+I then, in a strain quite poetic,
+  Begged her gaze on the bow in the sky,
+She looked--said its curve was "ęsthetic."
+  But the "tone was too dreadfully high."
+
+Her lovely face, lit by the splendor
+  That glorified landscape and sea,
+Woke thoughts that were daring and tender:
+  Did _her_ thoughts, too, rest upon me?
+
+"Oh, tell me," I cried, growing bolder,
+  "Have I in your musings a place?"
+"Well, yes," she said over her shoulder:
+  "I was thinking of nothing in space."
+
+
+
+POEMS OF THE WEEK.
+
+
+SUNDAY.
+
+Lie still and rest, in that serene repose
+That on this holy morning comes to those
+Who have been burdened with the cares which make
+The sad heart weary and the tired head ache.
+        Lie still and rest--
+      God's day of all is best.
+
+
+MONDAY.
+
+Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy dreams!
+Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.
+"As Monday goes, so goes the week," dames say.
+Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day.
+        And see! thy neighbor
+      Already seeks his labor.
+
+
+TUESDAY.
+
+Another morning's banners are unfurled--
+Another day looks smiling on the world.
+It holds new laurels for thy soul to win:
+Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin,
+        Nor sad, away,
+      Send it to yesterday.
+
+
+WEDNESDAY.
+
+Half-way unto the end--the week's high noon.
+The morning hours do speed away so soon!
+And, when the noon is reached, however bright,
+Instinctively we look toward the night.
+        The glow is lost
+      Once the meridian crost.
+
+
+THURSDAY.
+
+So well the week has sped, hast thou a friend
+Go spend an hour in converse. It will lend
+New beauty to thy labors and thy life
+To pause a little sometimes in the strife.
+        Toil soon seems rude
+      That has no interlude.
+
+
+FRIDAY.
+
+From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray;
+Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day,
+Neglect no labor and no duty shirk:
+Not many hours are left thee for thy work--
+        And it were meet
+      That all should be complete.
+
+
+SATURDAY.
+
+Now with the almost finished task make haste;
+So near the night thou hast no time to waste.
+Post up accounts, and let thy Soul's eyes look
+For flaws and errors in Life's ledger-book.
+        When labors cease,
+      How sweet the sense of peace!
+
+
+
+GHOSTS.
+
+
+      There are ghosts in the room.
+As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there
+      They come out of the gloom,
+And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair.
+
+      There's the ghost of a Hope
+That lighted my days with a fanciful glow,
+      In her hand is the rope
+That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago.
+
+      But her ghost comes to-night,
+With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes,
+      And it stands in the light,
+And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs.
+
+      There's the ghost of a Joy,
+A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much,
+      And the hands that destroy
+Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch.
+
+      There's the ghost of a Love,
+Born with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest,
+      But he towers above
+All the others--this ghost: yet a ghost at the best.
+
+      I am weary, and fain
+Would forget all these dead: but the gibbering host
+      Make my struggle in vain,
+In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost.
+
+
+
+FLEEING AWAY.
+
+
+My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar,
+  Higher and higher on soul-lent wings;
+But ever and often, and more and more
+  They are dragged down earthward by little things,
+By little troubles and little needs,
+As a lark might be tangled among the weeds.
+
+My purpose is not what it ought to be,
+  Steady and fixed, like a star on high,
+But more like a fisherman's light at sea;
+  Hither and thither it seems to fly--
+Sometimes feeble, and sometimes bright,
+Then suddenly lost in the gloom of night.
+
+My life is far from my dream of life--
+  Calmly contented, serenely glad;
+But, vexed and worried by daily strife,
+  It is always troubled, and ofttimes sad--
+And the heights I had thought I should reach one day
+Grow dimmer and dimmer, and farther away.
+
+My heart finds never the longed-for rest;
+  Its worldly striving, its greed for gold,
+Chilled and frightened the calm-eyed guest,
+  Who sometimes sought me in days of old;
+And ever fleeing away from me
+Is the higher self that I long to be.
+
+
+
+ALL MAD.
+
+
+"He is mad as a hare, poor fellow,
+  And should be in chains," you say.
+I haven't a doubt of your statement,
+  But who isn't mad, I pray?
+Why, the world is a great asylum,
+  And people are all insane,
+Gone daft with pleasure or folly,
+  Or crazed with passion and pain.
+
+The infant who shrieks at a shadow,
+  The child with his Santa Claus faith,
+The woman who worships Dame Fashion,
+  Each man with his notions of death,
+The miser who hoards up his earnings,
+  The spendthrift who wastes them too soon,
+The scholar grown blind in his delving,
+  The lover who stares at the moon.
+
+The poet who thinks life a pęan,
+  The cynic who thinks it a fraud,
+The youth who goes seeking for pleasure,
+  The preacher who dares talk of God,
+All priests with their creeds and their croaking,
+  All doubters who dare to deny,
+The gay who find aught to wake laughter,
+  The sad who find aught worth a sigh,
+Whoever is downcast or solemn,
+  Whoever is gleeful and glad,
+Are only the dupes of delusions--
+  We are all of us--all of us mad.
+
+
+
+HIDDEN GEMS.
+
+
+We know not what lies in us, till we seek;
+  Men dive for pearls--they are not found on shore,
+The hillsides most unpromising and bleak
+  Do sometimes hide the ore.
+
+Go, dive in the vast ocean of thy mind,
+  O man! far down below the noisy waves,
+Down in the depths and silence thou mayst find
+  Rare pearls and coral caves.
+
+Sink thou a shaft into the mine of thought;
+  Be patient, like the seekers after gold;
+Under the rocks and rubbish lieth what
+  May bring thee wealth untold.
+
+Reflected from the vasty Infinite,
+  However dulled by earth, each human mind
+Holds somewhere gems of beauty and of light
+  Which, seeking, thou shalt find.
+
+
+
+BY-AND-BY.
+
+
+"By-and-by," the maiden sighed--"by-and-by
+He will claim me for his bride,
+Hope is strong and time is fleet;
+Youth is fair, and love is sweet,
+Clouds will pass that fleck my sky.
+He will come back by-and-by--by-and-by."
+
+"By-and-by," the soldier said--"by-and-by,
+After I have fought and bled,
+I shall go home from the wars,
+Crowned with glory, seamed with scars.
+Joy will flash from some one's eye
+When she greets me by-and-by--by-and-by."
+
+"By-and-by," the mother cried--"by-and-by,
+Strong and sturdy at my side,
+Like a staff supporting me,
+Will my bonnie baby be.
+Break my rest, then, wail and cry--
+Thou'lt repay me by-and-by--by-and-by."
+
+Fleeting years of time have sped--hurried by--
+Still the maiden is unwed;
+All unknown the soldier lies,
+Buried under alien skies;
+And the son, with blood-shot eye
+Saw his mother starve and die.
+God in Heaven! dost Thou on high,
+Keep the promised by-and-by--by-and-by?
+
+
+
+OVER THE MAY HILL.
+
+
+All through the night time, and all through the day time,
+  Dreading the morning and dreading the night,
+Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time
+  Season of beauty and season of blight,
+Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow,
+  Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere,
+Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow,
+  Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.
+
+Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are cheery,
+  Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens,
+Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary--
+  Too well I know what that weariness means.
+But how could I know in the crisp winter weather
+  (Though sometimes I noticed a catch in your breath),
+Riding and singing and dancing together,
+  How could I know you were racing with death?
+
+How could I know when we danced until morning,
+  And you were the gayest of all the gay crowd--
+With only that shortness of breath for a warning,
+  How could I know that you danced for a shroud?
+Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight,
+  Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave,
+Down in your eyes shone a deep light--a far light,
+  How could I know 'twas the light to your grave?
+
+Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing,
+  Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom,
+Cometh the shape and the shadow I'm fearing,
+  "Over the May hill" is waiting your tomb.
+The season of mirth and of music is over--
+  I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song,
+Under the violets, under the clover,
+  My heart and my love will be lying ere long.
+
+
+
+A SONG.
+
+
+Is any one sad in the world, I wonder?
+  Does any one weep on a day like this,
+With the sun above, and the green earth under?
+  Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?
+
+With the sun, and the skies, and the birds above me,
+  Birds that sing as they wheel and fly--
+With the winds to follow and say they love me--
+  Who could be lonely? O ho, not I!
+
+Somebody said, in the street this morning,
+  As I opened my window to let in the light,
+That the darkest day of the world was dawning;
+  But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight.
+
+One who claims that he knows about it
+  Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin;
+But I and the bees and the birds--we doubt it,
+  And think it a world worth living in.
+
+Some one says that hearts are fickle,
+  That love is sorrow, that life is care,
+And the reaper Death, with his shining sickle,
+  Gathers whatever is bright and fair.
+
+I told the thrush, and we laughed together,
+  Laughed till the woods were all a-ring:
+And he said to me, as he plumed each feather,
+  "Well, people must croak, if they cannot sing."
+
+Up he flew, but his song, remaining,
+  Rang like a bell in my heart all day,
+And silenced the voices of weak complaining,
+  That pipe like insects along the way.
+
+O world of light, and O world of beauty!
+  Where are there pleasures so sweet as thine?
+Yes, life is love, and love is duty;
+  And what heart sorrows? O no, not mine!
+
+
+
+FOES.
+
+
+Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear
+  As valued friends. He cannot know
+The zest of life who runneth here
+  His earthly race without a foe.
+
+I saw a prize. "Run," cried my friend;
+  "'Tis thine to claim without a doubt."
+But ere I half-way reached the end,
+  I felt my strength was giving out.
+
+My foe looked on the while I ran;
+  A scornful triumph lit his eyes.
+With that perverseness born in man,
+  I nerved myself, and won the prize.
+
+All blinded by the crimson glow
+  Of sin's disguise, I tempted Fate.
+"I knew thy weakness!" sneered my foe,
+  I saved myself, and balked his hate.
+
+For half my blessings, half my gain,
+  I needs must thank my trusty foe;
+Despite his envy and disdain,
+  He serves me well where'er I go.
+
+So may I keep him to the end,
+  Nor may his enmity abate:
+More faithful than the fondest friend,
+  He guards me ever with his hate.
+
+
+
+FRIENDSHIP.
+
+
+Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving
+  Thy strong regard for me,
+Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving;
+  Let thy faith speak for thee.
+
+Swear not to me that nothing can divide us--
+  So little such oaths mean.
+But when distrust and envy creep beside us
+  Let them not come between.
+
+Say not to me the depths of thy devotion
+  Are deeper than the sea;
+But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion
+  Embitter them for me.
+
+Vow not to love me ever and forever,
+  Words are such idle things;
+But when we differ in opinions, never
+  Hurt me by little stings.
+
+I'm sick of words: they are so lightly spoken,
+  And spoken, are but air.
+I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken
+  Than list thy words so fair.
+
+If all the little proofs of trust are heeded,
+  If thou art always kind,
+No sacrifice, no promise will be needed
+  To satisfy my mind.
+
+
+
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+<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Maurine and Other Poems, by Ella Wheeler
+Wilcox</h1>
+<pre>
+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 <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre>
+<p>Title: Maurine and Other Poems</p>
+<p>Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox</p>
+<p>Release Date: August 16, 2008  [eBook #26333]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAURINE AND OTHER POEMS***</p>
+<br><br><center><h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Christina, Joseph Cooper,<br>
+    and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br>
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3></center><br><br>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<h1>MAURINE</h1>
+
+<br>
+
+<h4>AND OTHER POEMS</h4>
+
+<br>
+
+<h4><small>BY</small><br>
+ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</h4>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<br>
+
+<hr>
+
+<br>
+
+<h4>W. B. CONKEY COMPANY<br>
+<small>CHICAGO</small></h4>
+
+<br>
+
+<hr>
+
+<br>
+
+<h4><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1888<br>
+By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</span></h4>
+
+<br>
+
+<hr>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote><i>
+I step across the mystic border-land,<br>
+And look upon the wonder-world of Art.<br>
+How beautiful, how beautiful its hills!<br>
+And all its valleys, how surpassing fair!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The winding paths that lead up to the heights<br>
+Are polished by the footsteps of the great.<br>
+The mountain&#8209;peaks stand very near to God:<br>
+The chosen few whose feet have trod thereon<br>
+Have talked with Him, and with the angels walked.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Here are no sounds of discord&#8212;no profane<br>
+Or senseless gossip of unworthy things&#8212;<br>
+Only the songs of chisels and of pens.<br>
+Of busy brushes, and ecstatic strains<br>
+Of souls surcharged with music most divine.<br>
+Here is no idle sorrow, no poor grief<br>
+For any day or object left behind&#8212;<br>
+For time is counted precious, and herein<br>
+Is such complete abandonment of Self<br>
+That tears turn into rainbows, and enhance<br>
+The beauty of the land where all is fair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Awed and afraid, I cross the border&#8209;land.<br>
+Oh, who am I, that I dare enter here<br>
+Where the great artists of the world have trod&#8212;<br>
+The genius&#8209;crowned aristocrats of Earth?<br>
+Only the singer of a little song;<br>
+Yet loving Art with such a mighty love<br>
+I hold it greater to have won a place<br>
+Just on the fair land's edge, to make my grave,<br>
+Than in the outer world of greed and gain<br>
+To sit upon a royal throne and reign.<br>
+</i></blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br><br>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<h4>
+<a href="#MAURINE">MAURINE</a><br>
+<a href="#PART_I"><small>PART I.</small></a><br>
+<a href="#PART_II"><small>PART II.</small></a><br>
+<a href="#PART_III"><small>PART III.</small></a><br>
+<a href="#PART_IV"><small>PART IV.</small></a><br>
+<a href="#PART_V"><small>PART V.</small></a><br>
+<a href="#PART_VI"><small>PART VI.</small></a><br>
+<a href="#PART_VII"><small>PART VII.</small></a><br>
+<br>
+<a href="#TWO_SUNSETS">TWO SUNSETS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#UNREST">UNREST.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#ARTISTS_LIFE">"ARTIST'S LIFE."</a><br>
+
+<a href="#NOTHING_BUT_STONES">NOTHING BUT STONES.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_COQUETTE">THE COQUETTE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#INEVITABLE">INEVITABLE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_OCEAN_OF_SONG">THE OCEAN OF SONG.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#IT_MIGHT_HAVE_BEEN">"IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN."</a><br>
+
+<a href="#IF">IF.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#GETHSEMANE">GETHSEMANE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#DUST-SEALED">DUST&#8209;SEALED.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#ADVICE">"ADVICE."</a><br>
+
+<a href="#OVER_THE_BANISTERS">OVER THE BANISTERS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#MOMUS_GOD_OF_LAUGHTER">MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#I_DREAM">I DREAM.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_PAST">THE PAST.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_SONNET">THE SONNET.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#SECRETS">SECRETS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#A_DREAM">A DREAM.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#USELESSNESS">USELESSNESS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#WILL">WILL.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#WINTER_RAIN">WINTER RAIN.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#APPLAUSE">APPLAUSE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LIFE">LIFE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#BURDENED">BURDENED.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_STORY">THE STORY.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LET_THEM_GO">LET THEM GO.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_ENGINE">THE ENGINE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#NOTHING_NEW">NOTHING NEW.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#DREAMS">DREAMS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#HELENA">HELENA.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#NOTHING_REMAINS">NOTHING REMAINS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LEAN_DOWN">LEAN DOWN.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#COMRADES">COMRADES.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#WHAT_GAIN">WHAT GAIN?</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LIFE2">LIFE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#TO_THE_WEST">TO THE WEST.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_LAND_OF_CONTENT">THE LAND OF CONTENT.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#A_SONG_OF_LIFE">A SONG OF LIFE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#WARNING">WARNING.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_CHRISTIANS_NEW_YEAR_PRAYER">THE CHRISTIAN'S NEW YEAR PRAYER.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#IN_THE_NIGHT">IN THE NIGHT.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#GODS_MEASURE">GOD'S MEASURE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#A_MARCH_SNOW">A MARCH SNOW.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#AFTER_THE_BATTLES_ARE_OVER">AFTER THE BATTLES ARE OVER.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#NOBLESSE_OBLIGE">NOBLESSE OBLIGE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#AND_THEY_ARE_DUMB">AND THEY ARE DUMB.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#NIGHT">NIGHT.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#ALL_FOR_ME">ALL FOR ME.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#PHILOSOPHY">PHILOSOPHY.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#CARLOS">"CARLOS."</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_TWO_GLASSES">THE TWO GLASSES.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THROUGH_TEARS">THROUGH TEARS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#INTO_SPACE">INTO SPACE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THROUGH_DIM_EYES">THROUGH DIM EYES.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LA_MORT_DAMOUR">LA MORT D'AMOUR.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_PUNISHED">THE PUNISHED.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#HALF_FLEDGED">HALF FLEDGED.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LOVES_SLEEP">LOVE'S SLEEP.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#TRUE_CULTURE">TRUE CULTURE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_VOLUPTUARY">THE VOLUPTUARY.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_YEAR">THE YEAR.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#THE_UNATTAINED">THE UNATTAINED.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#IN_THE_CROWD">IN THE CROWD.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LIFE_AND_I">LIFE AND I.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#GUERDON">GUERDON.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#SNOWED_UNDER">SNOWED UNDER.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#PLATONIC">PLATONIC.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#WHAT_WE_NEEDED">WHAT WE NEEDED.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LEUDEMANNS_ON_THE_RIVER">"LEUDEMANN'S&#8209;ON&#8209;THE&#8209;RIVER."</a><br>
+
+<a href="#IN_THE_LONG_RUN">IN THE LONG RUN.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#PLEA_TO_SCIENCE">PLEA TO SCIENCE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LOVES_BURIAL">LOVE'S BURIAL.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LITTLE_BLUE_HOOD">LITTLE BLUE HOOD.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#NO_SPRING">NO SPRING.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#LIPPO">LIPPO.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#MIDSUMMER">MIDSUMMER.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#A_REMINISCENCE">A REMINISCENCE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#RESPITE">RESPITE.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#A_GIRLS_FAITH">A GIRL'S FAITH.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#TWO">TWO.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#SLIPPING_AWAY">SLIPPING AWAY.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#IS_IT_DONE">IS IT DONE?</a><br>
+
+<a href="#A_LEAF">A LEAF.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#AESTHETIC">&#198;STHETIC.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#POEMS_OF_THE_WEEK">POEMS OF THE WEEK.</a><br>
+<a href="#SUNDAY"><small>SUNDAY</small>.</a><br>
+<a href="#MONDAY"><small>MONDAY</small>.</a><br>
+<a href="#TUESDAY"><small>TUESDAY</small>.</a><br>
+<a href="#WEDNESDAY"><small>WEDNESDAY</small>.</a><br>
+<a href="#THURSDAY"><small>THURSDAY</small>.</a><br>
+<a href="#FRIDAY"><small>FRIDAY</small>.</a><br>
+<a href="#SATURDAY"><small>SATURDAY</small>.</a><br>
+<br>
+<a href="#GHOSTS">GHOSTS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#FLEEING_AWAY">FLEEING AWAY.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#ALL_MAD">ALL MAD.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#HIDDEN_GEMS">HIDDEN GEMS.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#BY-AND-BY">BY&#8209;AND&#8209;BY.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#OVER_THE_MAY_HILL">OVER THE MAY HILL.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#A_SONG">A SONG.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#FOES">FOES.</a><br>
+
+<a href="#FRIENDSHIP">FRIENDSHIP.</a><br>
+</h4>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="MAURINE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 9]</span><h2>MAURINE</h2>
+
+<a name="PART_I"></a>
+
+<h4><i>PART I.</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,<br>
+Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!<br>
+Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:<br>
+The climbing rose&#8209;tree grew about me there,<br>
+And checked with shade the sunny portico<br>
+Where, morns like this, I came to read, or sew.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I heard the gate click, and a firm quick tread<br>
+Upon the walk. No need to turn my head;<br>
+I would mistake, and doubt my own voice sounding,<br>
+Before his step upon the gravel bounding.<br>
+In an unstudied attitude of grace,<br>
+He stretched his comely form; and from his face<br>
+He tossed the dark, damp curls; and at my knees,<br>
+With his broad hat he fanned the lazy breeze,<br>
+And turned his head, and lifted his large eyes,<br>
+Of that strange hue we see in ocean dyes,<br>
+And call it blue sometimes, and sometimes green<br>
+And save in poet eyes, not elsewhere seen.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 10]</span>"Lest I should meet with my fair lady's scorning,<br>
+For calling quite so early in the morning,<br>
+I've brought a passport that can never fail,"<br>
+He said, and, laughing, laid the morning mail<br>
+Upon my lap. "I'm welcome? so I thought!<br>
+I'll figure by the letters that I brought<br>
+How glad you are to see me. Only one?<br>
+And that one from a lady? I'm undone!<br>
+That, lightly skimmed, you'll think me <i>such</i> a bore,<br>
+And wonder why I did not bring you four.<br>
+It's ever thus: a woman cannot get<br>
+So many letters that she will not fret<br>
+O'er one that did not come."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"I'll prove you wrong,"<br>
+I answered gayly, "here upon the spot!<br>
+This little letter, precious if not long,<br>
+Is just the one, of all you might have brought,<br>
+To please me. You have heard me speak, I'm sure,<br>
+Of Helen Trevor: she writes here to say<br>
+She's coming out to see me; and will stay<br>
+Till Autumn, maybe. She is, like her note,<br>
+Petite and dainty, tender, loving, pure.<br>
+You'd know her by a letter that she wrote,<br>
+For a sweet tinted thing. 'Tis always so:&#8212;<br>
+Letters all blots, though finely written, show<br>
+A slovenly person. Letters stiff and white<br>
+Bespeak a nature honest, plain, upright.<br>
+And tissuey, tinted, perfumed notes, like this,<br>
+Tell of a creature formed to pet and kiss."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+My listener heard me with a slow, odd smile;<br>
+Stretched in abandon at my feet, the while,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 11]</span>He fanned me idly with his broad&#8209;brimmed hat.<br>
+"Then all young ladies must be formed for that!"<br>
+He laughed, and said.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Their letters read, and look,<br>
+As like as twenty copies of one book.<br>
+They're written in a dainty, spider scrawl,<br>
+To 'darling, precious Kate,' or 'Fan,' or 'Moll.'<br>
+The 'dearest, sweetest' friend they ever had.<br>
+They say they 'want to see you, oh, so bad!'<br>
+Vow they'll 'forget you, never, _never_, oh!'<br>
+And then they tell about a splendid beau&#8212;<br>
+A lovely hat&#8212;a charming dress, and send<br>
+A little scrap of this to every friend.<br>
+And then to close, for lack of something better,<br>
+They beg you'll 'read and burn this horrid letter.'"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He watched me, smiling. He was prone to vex<br>
+And hector me with flings upon my sex.<br>
+He liked, he said, to have me flash and frown,<br>
+So he could tease me, and then laugh me down.<br>
+My storms of wrath amused him very much:<br>
+He liked to see me go off at a touch;<br>
+Anger became me&#8212;made my color rise,<br>
+And gave an added luster to my eyes.<br>
+So he would talk&#8212;and so he watched me now,<br>
+To see the hot flush mantle cheek and brow.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Instead, I answered coolly, with a smile,<br>
+Felling a seam with utmost care, meanwhile.<br>
+"The caustic tongue of Vivian Dangerfield<br>
+Is barbed as ever, for my sex, this morn.<br>
+Still unconvinced, no smallest point I yield.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 12]</span>Woman I love, and trust, despite your scorn.<br>
+There is some truth in what you say? Well, yes!<br>
+Your statements usually hold more or less.<br>
+Some women write weak letters&#8212;(some men do;)<br>
+Some make professions, knowing them untrue.<br>
+And woman's friendship, in the time of need,<br>
+I own, too often proves a broken reed.<br>
+But I believe, and ever will contend,<br>
+Woman can be a sister woman's friend,<br>
+Giving from out her large heart's bounteous store<br>
+A living love&#8212;claiming to do no more<br>
+Than, through and by that love, she knows she can;<br>
+And living by her professions, _like a man_.<br>
+And such a tie, true friendship's silken tether,<br>
+Binds Helen Trevor's heart and mine together.<br>
+I love her for her beauty, meekness, grace;<br>
+For her white lily soul and angel face.<br>
+She loves me, for my greater strength, may be;<br>
+Loves&#8212;and would give her heart's best blood for me<br>
+And I, to save her from a pain, or cross,<br>
+Would suffer any sacrifice or loss.<br>
+Such can be woman's friendship for another.<br>
+Could man give more, or ask more from a brother?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I paused: and Vivian leaned his massive head<br>
+Against the pillar of the portico,<br>
+Smiled his slow, skeptic smile, then laughed, and said:<br>
+"Nay, surely not&#8212;if what you say be so.<br>
+You've made a statement, but no proof's at hand.<br>
+Wait&#8212;do not flash your eyes so! Understand<br>
+I think you quite sincere in what you say:<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 13]</span>You love your friend, and she loves you, to&#8209;day;<br>
+But friendship is not friendship at the best<br>
+Till circumstances put it to the test.<br>
+Man's, less demonstrative, stands strain and tear,<br>
+While woman's, half profession, fails to wear.<br>
+Two women love each other passing well&#8212;<br>
+Say Helen Trevor and Maurine La Pelle,<br>
+Just for example.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let them daily meet<br>
+At ball and concert, in the church and street,<br>
+They kiss and coo, they visit, chat, caress;<br>
+Their love increases, rather than grows less;<br>
+And all goes well, till 'Helen dear' discovers<br>
+That 'Maurine darling' wins too many lovers.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And then her 'precious friend,' her 'pet,' her 'sweet,'<br>
+Becomes a 'minx,' a 'creature all deceit.'<br>
+Let Helen smile too oft on Maurine's beaux,<br>
+Or wear more stylish or becoming clothes,<br>
+Or sport a hat that has a longer feather&#8212;<br>
+And lo! the strain has broken 'friendship's tether.'<br>
+Maurine's sweet smile becomes a frown or pout;<br>
+'She's just begun to find that Helen out'<br>
+The breach grows wider&#8212;anger fills each heart;<br>
+They drift asunder, whom 'but death could part.'<br>
+You shake your head? Oh, well, we'll never know!<br>
+It is not likely Fate will test you so.<br>
+You'll live, and love; and, meeting twice a year,<br>
+While life shall last, you'll hold each other dear.<br>
+I pray it may be so; it were not best<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 14]</span>To shake your faith in woman by the test.<br>
+Keep your belief, and nurse it while you can.<br>
+I've faith in woman's friendship too&#8212;for man!<br>
+They're true as steel, as mothers, friends, and wives:<br>
+And that's enough to bless us all our lives.<br>
+That man's a selfish fellow, and a bore,<br>
+Who is unsatisfied, and asks for more."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"But there is need of more!" I here broke in.<br>
+"I hold that woman guilty of a sin,<br>
+Who would not cling to, and defend another,<br>
+As nobly as she would stand by a brother.<br>
+Who would not suffer for a sister's sake,<br>
+And, were there need to prove her friendship, make<br>
+'Most any sacrifice, nor count the cost.<br>
+Who would not do this for a friend is lost<br>
+To every nobler principle."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Shame, shame!"<br>
+Cried Vivian, laughing, "for you now defame<br>
+The whole sweet sex; since there's not one would do<br>
+The thing you name, nor would I want her to.<br>
+I love the sex. My mother was a woman&#8212;<br>
+I hope my wife will be, and wholly human.<br>
+And if she wants to make some sacrifice,<br>
+I'll think her far more sensible and wise<br>
+To let her husband reap the benefit,<br>
+Instead of some old maid or senseless chit.<br>
+Selfish? Of course! I hold all love is so:<br>
+And I shall love my wife right well, I know.<br>
+Now there's a point regarding selfish love,<br>
+You thirst to argue with me, and disprove.<br>
+But since these cosy hours will soon be gone<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 15]</span>And all our meetings broken in upon,<br>
+No more of these rare moments must be spent<br>
+In vain discussions, or in argument.<br>
+I wish Miss Trevor was in&#8212;Jericho!<br>
+(You see the selfishness begins to show.)<br>
+She wants to see you?&#8212;So do I: but she<br>
+Will gain her wish, by taking you from me.<br>
+'Come all the same?' that means I'll be allowed<br>
+To realize that 'three can make a crowd.'<br>
+I do not like to feel myself _de trop_.<br>
+With two girl cronies would I not be so?<br>
+My ring would interrupt some private chat.<br>
+You'd ask me in and take my cane and hat,<br>
+And speak about the lovely summer day,<br>
+And think&#8212;'The lout! I wish he'd kept away.'<br>
+Miss Trevor'd smile, but just to hide a pout<br>
+And count the moments till I was shown out.<br>
+And, while I twirled my thumbs, I would sit wishing<br>
+That I had gone off hunting birds, or fishing.<br>
+No, thanks, Maurine! The iron hand of Fate,<br>
+(Or otherwise Miss Trevor's dainty fingers,)<br>
+Will bar my entrance into Eden's gate;<br>
+And I shall be like some poor soul that lingers<br>
+At heaven's portal, paying the price of sin,<br>
+Yet hoping to be pardoned and let in."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He looked so melancholy sitting there,<br>
+I laughed outright. "How well you act a part;<br>
+You look the very picture of despair!<br>
+You've missed your calling, sir! suppose you start<br>
+Upon a starring tour, and carve your name<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 16]</span>With Booth's and Barrett's on the heights of Fame.<br>
+But now, tabooing nonsense, I shall send<br>
+For you to help me entertain my friend,<br>
+Unless you come without it. 'Cronies?' True,<br>
+Wanting our 'private chats' as cronies do<br>
+And we'll take those, while you are reading Greek,<br>
+Or writing 'Lines to Dora's brow' or 'cheek.'<br>
+But when you have an hour or two of leisure,<br>
+Call as you now do, and afford like pleasure.<br>
+For never yet did heaven's sun shine on,<br>
+Or stars discover, that phenomenon,<br>
+In any country, or in any clime:<br>
+Two maids so bound, by ties of mind and heart.<br>
+They did not feel the heavy weight of time<br>
+In weeks of scenes wherein no man took part.<br>
+God made the sexes to associate:<br>
+Nor law of man, nor stern decree of Fate,<br>
+Can ever undo what His hand has done,<br>
+And, quite alone, make happy either one.<br>
+My Helen is an only child:&#8212;a pet<br>
+Of loving parents: and she never yet<br>
+Has been denied one boon for which she pleaded.<br>
+A fragile thing, her lightest wish was heeded.<br>
+Would she pluck roses? they must first be shorn,<br>
+By careful hands, of every hateful thorn.<br>
+And loving eyes must scan the pathway where<br>
+Her feet may tread, to see no stones are there.<br>
+She'll grow dull here, in this secluded nook,<br>
+Unless you aid me in the pleasant task<br>
+Of entertaining. Drop in with your book&#8212;<br>
+Read, talk, sing for her sometimes. What I ask,<br>
+Do once, to please me: then there'll be no need<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 17]</span>For me to state the case again, or plead.<br>
+There's nothing like a woman's grace and beauty<br>
+To waken mankind to a sense of duty."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"I bow before the mandate of my queen:<br>
+Your slightest wish is law, Ma Belle Maurine,"<br>
+He answered smiling, "I'm at your command;<br>
+Point but one lily finger, or your wand,<br>
+And you will find a willing slave obeying.<br>
+There goes my dinner bell! I hear it saying<br>
+I've spent two hours here, lying at your feet,<br>
+Not profitable, maybe&#8212;surely sweet.<br>
+All time is money; now were I to measure<br>
+The time I spend here by its solid pleasure,<br>
+And that were coined in dollars, then I've laid<br>
+Each day a fortune at your feet, fair maid.<br>
+There goes that bell again! I'll say good&#8209;bye,<br>
+Or clouds will shadow my domestic sky.<br>
+I'll come again, as you would have me do,<br>
+And see your friend, while she is seeing you.<br>
+That's like by proxy being at a feast;<br>
+Unsatisfactory, to say the least."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He drew his fine shape up, and trod the land<br>
+With kingly grace. Passing the gate, his hand<br>
+He lightly placed the garden wall upon,<br>
+Leaped over like a leopard, and was gone.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And, going, took the brightness from the place,<br>
+Yet left the June day with a sweeter grace,<br>
+And my young soul so steeped in happy dreams,<br>
+Heaven itself seemed shown to me in gleams.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 18]</span>There is a time with lovers, when the heart<br>
+First slowly rouses from its dreamless sleep,<br>
+To all the tumult of a passion life,<br>
+Ere yet have wakened jealousy and strife.<br>
+Just as a young, untutored child will start<br>
+Out of a long hour's slumber, sound and deep,<br>
+And lie and smile with rosy lips, and cheeks,<br>
+In a sweet, restful trance, before it speaks.<br>
+A time when yet no word the spell has broken,<br>
+Save what the heart unto the soul has spoken,<br>
+In quickened throbs, and sighs but half suppressed.<br>
+A time when that sweet truth, all unconfessed,<br>
+Gives added fragrance to the summer flowers,<br>
+A golden glory to the passing hours,<br>
+A hopeful beauty to the plainest face,<br>
+And lends to life a new and tender grace.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+When the full heart has climbed the heights of bliss,<br>
+And, smiling, looks back o'er the golden past,<br>
+I think it finds no sweeter hour than this<br>
+In all love&#8209;life. For, later, when the last<br>
+Translucent drop o'erflows the cup of joy,<br>
+And love, more mighty than the heart's control,<br>
+Surges in words of passion from the soul,<br>
+And vows are asked and given, shadows rise<br>
+Like mists before the sun in noonday skies,<br>
+Vague fears, that prove the brimming cup's alloy;<br>
+A dread of change&#8212;the crowning moment's curse,<br>
+Since what is perfect, change but renders worse:<br>
+A vain desire to cripple Time, who goes<br>
+Bearing our joys away, and bringing woes.<br>
+And later, doubts and jealousies awaken.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 19]</span>And plighted hearts are tempest&#8209;tossed, and shaken.<br>
+Doubt sends a test, that goes a step too far,<br>
+A wound is made, that, healing, leaves a scar,<br>
+Or one heart, full with love's sweet satisfaction,<br>
+Thinks truth once spoken always understood,<br>
+While one is pining for the tender action<br>
+And whispered word by which, of old, 'twas wooed.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But this blest hour, in love's glad, golden day,<br>
+Is like the dawning, ere the radiant ray<br>
+Of glowing Sol has burst upon the eye,<br>
+But yet is heralded in earth and sky,<br>
+Warm with its fervor, mellow with its light,<br>
+While Care still slumbers in the arms of night.<br>
+But Hope, awake, hears happy birdlings sing,<br>
+And thinks of all a summer day may bring.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In this sweet calm, my young heart lay at rest,<br>
+Filled with a blissful sense of peace; nor guessed<br>
+That sullen clouds were gathering in the skies<br>
+To hide the glorious sun, ere it should rise.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<a name="PART_II"></a>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 20]</span><h4><i>PART II.</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+To little birds that never tire of humming<br>
+About the garden, in the summer weather,<br>
+Aunt Ruth compared us, after Helen's coming,<br>
+As we two roamed, or sat and talked together.<br>
+Twelve months apart, we had so much to say<br>
+Of school days gone&#8212;and time since passed away;<br>
+Of that old friend, and this; of what we'd done;<br>
+Of how our separate paths in life had run;<br>
+Of what we would do, in the coming years;<br>
+Of plans and castles, hopes and dreams and fears.<br>
+All these, and more, as soon as we found speech,<br>
+We touched upon, and skimmed from this to that<br>
+But at the first, each only gazed on each,<br>
+And, dumb with joy, that did not need a voice<br>
+Like lesser joys, to say, "Lo! I rejoice,"<br>
+With smiling eyes and clasping hands we sat<br>
+Wrapped in that peace, felt but with those dear,<br>
+Contented just to know each other near.<br>
+But when this silent eloquence gave place<br>
+To words, 'twas like the rising of a flood<br>
+Above a dam. We sat there, face to face,<br>
+And let our talk glide on where'er it would,<br>
+Speech never halting in its speed or zest,<br>
+Save when our rippling laughter let it rest;<br>
+Just as a stream will sometimes pause and play<br>
+About a bubbling spring, then dash away.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 21]</span>No wonder, then, the third day's sun was nigh<br>
+Up to the zenith when my friend and I<br>
+Opened our eyes from slumber long and deep:<br>
+Nature demanding recompense for hours<br>
+Spent in the portico, among the flowers,<br>
+Halves of two nights we should have spent in sleep.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So this third day, we breakfasted at one:<br>
+Then walked about the garden in the sun,<br>
+Hearing the thrushes and the robins sing,<br>
+And looking to see what buds were opening.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The clock chimed three, and we yet strayed at will<br>
+About the yard in morning dishabille,<br>
+When Aunt Ruth came, with apron o'er her head,<br>
+Holding a letter in her hand, and said,<br>
+"Here is a note, from Vivian I opine;<br>
+At least his servant brought it. And now, girls,<br>
+You may think this is no concern of mine,<br>
+But in my day young ladies did not go,<br>
+Till almost bed&#8209;time roaming to and fro<br>
+In morning wrappers, and with tangled curls,<br>
+The very pictures of forlorn distress.<br>
+'Tis three o'clock, and time for you to dress.<br>
+Come! read your note and hurry in, Maurine,<br>
+And make yourself fit object to be seen."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Helen was bending o'er an almond bush,<br>
+And ere she looked up I had read the note,<br>
+And calmed my heart, that, bounding, sent a flush<br>
+To brow and cheek, at sight of aught <i>he</i> wrote.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 22]</span>"Ma Belle Maurine:" (so Vivian's billet ran,)<br>
+"Is it not time I saw your cherished guest?<br>
+'Pity the sorrows of a poor young man,'<br>
+Banished from all that makes existence blest.<br>
+I'm dying to see&#8212;your friend; and I will come<br>
+And pay respects, hoping you'll be at home<br>
+To&#8209;night at eight. Expectantly, V. D."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Inside my belt I slipped the billet, saying,<br>
+"Helen, go make yourself most fair to see:<br>
+Quick! hurry now! no time for more delaying!<br>
+In just five hours a caller will be here,<br>
+And you must look your prettiest, my dear!<br>
+Begin your toilet right away. I know<br>
+How long it takes you to arrange each bow&#8212;<br>
+To twist each curl, and loop your skirts aright.<br>
+And you must prove you are <i>au fait</i> to&#8209;night,<br>
+And make a perfect toilet: for our caller<br>
+Is man, and critic, poet, artist, scholar,<br>
+And views with eyes of all."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Oh, oh! Maurine,"<br>
+Cried Helen with a well&#8209;feigned look of fear,<br>
+"You've frightened me so I shall not appear:<br>
+I'll hide away, refusing to be seen<br>
+By such an ogre. Woe is me! bereft<br>
+Of all my friends, my peaceful home I've left,<br>
+And strayed away into the dreadful wood<br>
+To meet the fate of poor Red Riding Hood.<br>
+No, Maurine, no! you've given me such a fright,<br>
+I'll not go near your ugly wolf to&#8209;night."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 23]</span>Meantime we'd left the garden; and I stood<br>
+In Helen's room, where she had thrown herself<br>
+Upon a couch, and lay, a winsome elf,<br>
+Pouting and smiling, cheek upon her arm,<br>
+Not in the least a portrait of alarm.<br>
+"Now sweet!" I coaxed, and knelt by her, "be good!<br>
+Go curl your hair; and please your own Maurine,<br>
+By putting on that lovely grenadine.<br>
+Not wolf, nor ogre, neither Caliban,<br>
+Nor Mephistopheles, you'll meet to&#8209;night,<br>
+But what the ladies call 'a nice young man'!<br>
+Yet one worth knowing&#8212;strong with health and might<br>
+Of perfect manhood; gifted, noble, wise;<br>
+Moving among his kind with loving eyes,<br>
+And helpful hand; progressive, brave, refined,<br>
+After the image of his Maker's mind."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Now, now, Maurine!" cried Helen, "I believe<br>
+It is your lover coming here this eve.<br>
+Why have you never written of him, pray?<br>
+Is the day set?&#8212;and when? Say, Maurine, say!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Had I betrayed by some too fervent word<br>
+The secret love that all my being stirred?<br>
+My lover? Ay! My heart proclaimed him so;<br>
+But first <i>his</i> lips must win the sweet confession,<br>
+Ere even Helen be allowed to know.<br>
+I must straightway erase the slight impression<br>
+Made by the words just uttered.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 24]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Foolish child!"<br>
+I gayly cried, "your fancy's straying wild.<br>
+Just let a girl of eighteen hear the name<br>
+Of maid and youth uttered about one time,<br>
+And off her fancy goes, at break&#8209;neck pace,<br>
+Defying circumstances, reason, space&#8212;<br>
+And straightway builds romances so sublime<br>
+They put all Shakespeare's dramas to the shame.<br>
+This Vivian Dangerfield is neighbor, friend<br>
+And kind companion; bringing books and flowers.<br>
+And, by his thoughtful actions without end,<br>
+Helping me pass some otherwise long hours;<br>
+But he has never breathed a word of love.<br>
+If you still doubt me, listen while I prove<br>
+My statement by the letter that he wrote.<br>
+'Dying to meet&#8212;my friend!' (she could not see<br>
+The dash between that meant so much to me.)<br>
+'Will come this eve, at eight, and hopes we may<br>
+Be in to greet him.' Now I think you'll say<br>
+'Tis not much like a lover's tender note."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We laugh, we jest, not meaning what we say;<br>
+We hide our thoughts, by light words lightly spoken,<br>
+And pass on heedless, till we find one day<br>
+They've bruised our hearts, or left some other broken.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I sought my room, and trilling some blithe air,<br>
+Opened my wardrobe, wondering what to wear.<br>
+Momentous question! femininely human!<br>
+More than all others, vexing mind of woman,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 25]</span>Since that sad day, when in her discontent,<br>
+To search for leaves, our fair first mother went.<br>
+All undecided what I should put on,<br>
+At length I made selection of a lawn&#8212;<br>
+White, with a tiny pink vine overrun:&#8212;<br>
+My simplest robe, but Vivian's favorite one.<br>
+And placing a single flowret in my hair,<br>
+I crossed the hall to Helen's chamber, where<br>
+I found her with her fair locks all let down,<br>
+Brushing the kinks out, with a pretty frown.<br>
+'T was like a picture, or a pleasing play,<br>
+To watch her make her toilet. She would stand,<br>
+And turn her head first this and then that way,<br>
+Trying effect of ribbon, bow or band.<br>
+Then she would pick up something else, and curve<br>
+Her lovely neck, with cunning, bird&#8209;like grace,<br>
+And watch the mirror while she put it on,<br>
+With such a sweetly grave and thoughtful face;<br>
+And then to view it all would sway, and swerve<br>
+Her lithe young body, like a graceful swan.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Helen was over medium height, and slender<br>
+Even to frailty. Her great, wistful eyes<br>
+Were like the deep blue of autumnal skies;<br>
+And through them looked her soul, large, loving, tender.<br>
+Her long, light hair was lusterless, except<br>
+Upon the ends, where burnished sunbeams slept,<br>
+And on the earlocks; and she looped the curls<br>
+Back with a shell comb, studded thick with pearls,<br>
+Costly yet simple. Her pale loveliness,<br>
+That night, was heightened by her rich, black dress,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 26]</span>That trailed behind her, leaving half in sight<br>
+Her taper arms, and shoulders marble white.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I was not tall as Helen, and my face<br>
+Was shaped and colored like my grandsire's race;<br>
+For through his veins my own received the warm,<br>
+Red blood of southern France, which curved my form,<br>
+And glowed upon my cheek in crimson dyes,<br>
+And bronzed my hair, and darkled in my eyes.<br>
+And as the morning trails the skirts of night,<br>
+And dusky night puts on the garb of morn,<br>
+And walk together when the day is born,<br>
+So we two glided down the hall and stair,<br>
+Arm clasping arm, into the parlor, where<br>
+Sat Vivian, bathed in sunset's gorgeous light.<br>
+He rose to greet us. Oh! his form was grand;<br>
+And he possessed that power, strange, occult,<br>
+Called magnetism, lacking better word,<br>
+Which moves the world, achieving great result<br>
+Where genius fails completely. Touch his hand,<br>
+It thrilled through all your being&#8212;meet his eye,<br>
+And you were moved, yet knew not how, or why.<br>
+Let him but rise, you felt the air was stirred<br>
+By an electric current.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;This strange force<br>
+Is mightier than genius. Rightly used,<br>
+It leads to grand achievements; all things yield<br>
+Before its mystic presence, and its field<br>
+Is broad as earth and heaven. But abused,<br>
+It sweeps like a poison simoon on its course<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 27]</span>Bearing miasma in its scorching breath,<br>
+And leaving all it touches struck with death.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Far&#8209;reaching science shall yet tear away<br>
+The mystic garb that hides it from the day,<br>
+And drag it forth and bind it with its laws,<br>
+And make it serve the purposes of men,<br>
+Guided by common sense and reason. Then<br>
+We'll hear no more of seance, table&#8209;rapping,<br>
+And all that trash, o'er which the world is gaping,<br>
+Lost in effect, while science seeks the cause.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Vivian was not conscious of his power:<br>
+Or, if he was, knew not its full extent.<br>
+He knew his glance would make a wild beast cower,<br>
+And yet he knew not that his large eyes sent<br>
+Into the heart of woman the same thrill<br>
+That made the lion servant of his will.<br>
+And even strong men felt it.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He arose,<br>
+Reached forth his hand, and in it clasped my own,<br>
+While I held Helen's; and he spoke some word<br>
+Of pleasant greeting in his low, round tone,<br>
+Unlike all other voices I have heard.<br>
+Just as the white cloud, at the sunrise, glows<br>
+With roseate colors, so the pallid hue<br>
+Of Helen's cheek, like tinted sea&#8209;shells grew.<br>
+Through mine, his hand caused hers to tremble; such<br>
+Was the all&#8209;mast'ring magic of his touch.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 28]</span>Then we sat down, and talked about the weather,<br>
+The neighborhood&#8212;some author's last new book.<br>
+But, when I could, I left the two together<br>
+To make acquaintance, saying I must look<br>
+After the chickens&#8212;my especial care;<br>
+And ran away, and left them, laughing, there.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Knee&#8209;deep, through clover, to the poplar grove,<br>
+I waded, where my pets were wont to rove:<br>
+And there I found the foolish mother hen<br>
+Brooding her chickens underneath a tree,<br>
+An easy prey for foxes. "Chick&#8209;a&#8209;dee,"<br>
+Quoth I, while reaching for the downy things<br>
+That, chirping, peeped from out the mother&#8209;wings,<br>
+"How very human is your folly! When<br>
+There waits a haven, pleasant, bright, and warm,<br>
+And one to lead you thither from the storm<br>
+And lurking dangers, yet you turn away.<br>
+And, thinking to be your own protector, stray<br>
+Into the open jaws of death: for, see!<br>
+An owl is sitting in this very tree<br>
+You thought safe shelter. Go now to your pen."<br>
+And, followed by the clucking, clamorous hen,<br>
+So like the human mother here again,<br>
+Moaning because a strong, protecting arm<br>
+Would shield her little ones from cold and harm,<br>
+I carried back my garden hat brimful<br>
+Of chirping chickens, like white balls of wool,<br>
+And snugly housed them.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And just then I heard<br>
+A sound like gentle winds among the trees,<br>
+Or pleasant waters in the Summer, stirred<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 29]</span>And set in motion by a passing breeze.<br>
+'T was Helen singing: and, as I drew near,<br>
+Another voice, a tenor full and clear,<br>
+Mingled with hers, as murmuring streams unite,<br>
+And flow on stronger in their wedded might.<br>
+It was a way of Helen's, not to sing<br>
+The songs that other people sang. She took<br>
+Sometimes an extract from an ancient book;<br>
+Again some floating, fragmentary thing<br>
+And such she fitted to old melodies,<br>
+Or else composed the music. One of these<br>
+She sang that night; and Vivian caught the strain,<br>
+And joined her in the chorus, or refrain,
+
+<blockquote>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;SONG.<br>
+
+O thou, mine other, stronger part!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Whom yet I cannot hear, or see,<br>
+Come thou, and take this loving heart,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;That longs to yield its all to thee,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I call mine own&#8212;Oh, come to me!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Love, answer back, I come to thee,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I come to thee.<br>
+
+This hungry heart, so warm, so large,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Is far too great a care for me.<br>
+I have grown weary of the charge<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I keep so sacredly for thee.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Come thou, and take my heart from me.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Love, answer back, I come to thee,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I come to thee.<br>
+
+I am aweary, waiting here<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;For one who tarries long from me.<br>
+O! art thou far, or art thou near?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And must I still be sad for thee?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Or wilt thou straightway come to me?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Love, answer, I am near to thee,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I come to thee.<br>
+</blockquote>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 30]</span>The melody, so full of plaintive chords,<br>
+Sobbed into silence&#8212;echoing down the strings<br>
+Like voice of one who walks from us, and sings.<br>
+Vivian had leaned upon the instrument<br>
+The while they sang. But, as he spoke those words,<br>
+"Love, I am near to thee, I come to thee,"<br>
+He turned his grand head slowly round, and bent<br>
+His lustrous, soulful, speaking gaze on me.<br>
+And my young heart, eager to own its king,<br>
+Sent to my eyes a great, glad, trustful light<br>
+Of love and faith, and hung upon my cheek<br>
+Hope's rose&#8209;hued flag. There was no need to speak.<br>
+I crossed the room, and knelt by Helen. "Sing<br>
+That song you sang a fragment of one night,<br>
+Out on the porch, beginning, 'Praise me not,'"<br>
+I whispered: and her sweet and plaintive tone<br>
+Rose, low and tender, as if she had caught<br>
+From some sad passing breeze, and made her own,<br>
+The echo of the wind&#8209;harp's sighing strain,<br>
+Or the soft music of the falling rain.<br>
+
+<blockquote>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;SONG.<br>
+
+O praise me not with your lips, dear one!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Though your tender words I prize.<br>
+But dearer by far is the soulful gaze<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Your tender, loving eyes.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+O chide me not with your lips, dear one!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Though I cause your bosom sighs.<br>
+You can make repentance deeper far<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;By your sad, reproving eyes,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Your sorrowful, troubled eyes.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 31]</span>Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Above, in the beaming skies,<br>
+The constant stars say never a word,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But only smile with their eyes&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Smile on with their lustrous eyes.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;On the winged wind speech flies.<br>
+But I read the truth of your noble heart<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In your soulful, speaking eyes&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In your deep and beautiful eyes.<br>
+</blockquote>
+
+The twilight darkened 'round us, in the room,<br>
+While Helen sang; and, in the gathering gloom,<br>
+Vivian reached out, and took my hand in his,<br>
+And held it so; while Helen made the air<br>
+Languid with music. Then a step drew near,<br>
+And voice of Aunt Ruth broke the spell:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Dear! dear!<br>
+Why Maurie, Helen, children! how is this?<br>
+I hear you, but you have no light in there.<br>
+Your room is dark as Egypt. What a way<br>
+For folks to visit!&#8212;Maurie, go, I pray,<br>
+And order lamps."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And so there came a light,<br>
+And all the sweet dreams hovering around<br>
+The twilight shadows flitted in affright:<br>
+And e'en the music had a harsher sound.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In pleasant converse passed an hour away:<br>
+And Vivian planned a picnic for next day&#8212;<br>
+A drive the next, and rambles without end,<br>
+That he might help me entertain my friend.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 32]</span>And then he rose, bowed low, and passed from sight,<br>
+Like some great star that drops out from the night;<br>
+And Helen watched him through the shadows go,<br>
+And turned and said, her voice subdued and low,<br>
+"How tall he is! in all my life, Maurine,<br>
+A grander man I never yet have seen."<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<a name="PART_III"></a>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 33]</span><h4><i>PART III.</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+One golden twelfth&#8209;part of a checkered year;<br>
+One summer month, of sunlight, moonlight, mirth<br>
+With not a hint of shadows lurking near,<br>
+Or storm&#8209;clouds brewing.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;'T was a royal day:<br>
+Voluptuous July held her lover, Earth,<br>
+With her warm arms, upon her glowing breast,<br>
+And twined herself about him, as he lay<br>
+Smiling and panting in his dream&#8209;stirred rest.<br>
+She bound him with her limbs of perfect grace,<br>
+And hid him with her trailing robe of green,<br>
+And wound him in her long hair's shimmering sheen,<br>
+And rained her ardent kisses on his face.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Through the glad glory of the summer land<br>
+Helen and I went wandering, hand in hand.<br>
+In winding paths, hard by the ripe wheat&#8209;field,<br>
+White with the promise of a bounteous yield,<br>
+Across the late shorn meadow&#8212;down the hill,<br>
+Red with the tiger&#8209;lily blossoms, till<br>
+We stood upon the borders of the lake,<br>
+That like a pretty, placid infant, slept<br>
+Low at its base: and little ripples crept<br>
+Along its surface, just as dimples chase<br>
+Each other o'er an infant's sleeping face<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 34]</span>Helen in idle hours had learned to make<br>
+A thousand pretty, feminine knick&#8209;knacks:<br>
+For brackets, ottomans, and toilet stands&#8212;<br>
+Labor just suited to her dainty hands.<br>
+That morning she had been at work in wax,<br>
+Molding a wreath of flowers for my room,&#8212;<br>
+Taking her patterns from the living blows,<br>
+In all their dewy beauty and sweet bloom,<br>
+Fresh from my garden. Fuchsia, tulip, rose,<br>
+And trailing ivy, grew beneath her touch,<br>
+Resembling the living plants as much<br>
+As life is copied in the form of death:<br>
+These lacking but the perfume, and that, breath.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And now the wreath was all completed, save<br>
+The mermaid blossom of all flowerdom,<br>
+A water&#8209;lily, dripping from the wave.<br>
+And 'twas in search of it that we had come<br>
+Down to the lake, and wandered on the beach,<br>
+To see if any lilies grew in reach.<br>
+Some broken stalks, where flowers late had been;<br>
+Some buds, with all their beauties folded in,<br>
+We found, but not the treasure that we sought<br>
+And then we turned our footsteps to the spot<br>
+Where, all impatient of its chain, my boat,<br>
+"The Swan," rocked, asking to be set afloat<br>
+It was a dainty row&#8209;boat&#8212;strong, yet light;<br>
+Each side a swan was painted snowy white:<br>
+A present from my uncle, just before<br>
+He sailed, with Death, to that mysterious strand,<br>
+Where freighted ships go sailing evermore,<br>
+But none return to tell us of the land.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 35]</span>I freed the "Swan," and slowly rowed about,<br>
+Wherever sea&#8209;weeds, grass, or green leaves lifted<br>
+Their tips above the water. So we drifted,<br>
+While Helen, opposite, leaned idly out<br>
+And watched for lilies in the waves below,<br>
+And softly crooned some sweet and dreamy air,<br>
+That soothed me like a mother's lullabies.<br>
+I dropped the oars, and closed my sun&#8209;kissed eyes,<br>
+And let the boat go drifting here and there.<br>
+Oh, happy day! the last of that brief time<br>
+Of thoughtless youth, when all the world seems bright,<br>
+Ere that disguis&#232;d angel men call Woe<br>
+Leads the sad heart through valleys dark as night,<br>
+Up to the heights exalted and sublime.<br>
+On each blest, happy moment, I am fain<br>
+To linger long, ere I pass on to pain<br>
+And sorrow that succeeded.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;From day&#8209;dreams,<br>
+As golden as the summer noontide's beams,<br>
+I was awakened by a voice that cried:<br>
+"Strange ship, ahoy! Fair frigate, whither bound?"<br>
+And, starting up, I cast my gaze around,<br>
+And saw a sail&#8209;boat o'er the water glide<br>
+Close to the "Swan," like some live thing of grace;<br>
+And from it looked the glowing, handsome face<br>
+Of Vivian.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Beauteous sirens of the sea,<br>
+Come sail across the raging main with me!"<br>
+He laughed; and leaning, drew our drifting boat<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 36]</span>Beside his own. "There, now! step in!" he said,<br>
+"I'll land you anywhere you want to go&#8212;<br>
+My boat is safer far than yours, I know:<br>
+And much more pleasant with its sails all spread.<br>
+The Swan? We'll take the oars, and let it float<br>
+Ashore at leisure. You, Maurine, sit there&#8212;<br>
+Miss Helen here. Ye gods and little fishes!<br>
+I've reached the height of pleasure, and my wishes.<br>
+Adieu despondency! farewell to care!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+'T was done so quickly: that was Vivian's way.<br>
+He did not wait for either yea or nay.<br>
+He gave commands, and left you with no choice<br>
+But just to do the bidding of his voice.<br>
+His rare, kind smile, low tones, and manly face<br>
+Lent to his quick imperiousness a grace<br>
+And winning charm, completely stripping it<br>
+Of what might otherwise have seemed unfit.<br>
+Leaving no trace of tyranny, but just<br>
+That nameless force that seemed to say, "You must."<br>
+Suiting its pretty title of "The Dawn,"<br>
+(So named, he said, that it might rhyme with "Swan,")<br>
+Vivian's sail&#8209;boat, was carpeted with blue,<br>
+While all its sails were of a pale rose hue.<br>
+The daintiest craft that flirted with the breeze;<br>
+A poet's fancy in an hour of ease.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Whatever Vivian had was of the best.<br>
+His room was like some Sultan's in the East.<br>
+His board was always spread as for a feast.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 37]</span>Whereat, each meal, he was both host and guest.<br>
+He would go hungry sooner than he'd dine<br>
+At his own table if 'twere illy set.<br>
+He so loved things artistic in design&#8212;<br>
+Order and beauty, all about him. Yet<br>
+So kind he was, if it befell his lot<br>
+To dine within the humble peasant's cot,<br>
+He made it seem his native soil to be,<br>
+And thus displayed the true gentility.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Under the rosy banners of the "Dawn,"<br>
+Around the lake we drifted on, and on.<br>
+It was a time for dreams, and not for speech.<br>
+And so we floated on in silence, each<br>
+Weaving the fancies suiting such a day.<br>
+Helen leaned idly o'er the sail&#8209;boat's side,<br>
+And dipped her rosy fingers in the tide;<br>
+And I among the cushions half reclined,<br>
+Half sat, and watched the fleecy clouds at play<br>
+While Vivian with his blank&#8209;book, opposite,<br>
+In which he seemed to either sketch or write<br>
+Was lost in inspiration of some kind.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+No time, no change, no scene, can e'er efface<br>
+My mind's impression of that hour and place;<br>
+It stands out like a picture. O'er the years,<br>
+Black with their robes of sorrow&#8212;veiled with tears,<br>
+Lying with all their lengthened shapes between,<br>
+Untouched, undimmed, I still behold that scene.<br>
+Just as the last of Indian&#8209;summer days,<br>
+Replete with sunlight, crowned with amber haze,<br>
+Followed by dark and desolate December,<br>
+Through all the months of winter we remember.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 38]</span>The sun slipped westward. That peculiar change<br>
+Which creeps into the air, and speaks of night<br>
+While yet the day is full of golden light,<br>
+We felt steal o'er us.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Vivian broke the spell<br>
+Of dream&#8209;fraught silence, throwing down his book:<br>
+"Young ladies, please allow me to arrange<br>
+These wraps about your shoulders. I know well<br>
+The fickle nature of our atmosphere,&#8212;<br>
+Her smile swift followed by a frown or tear,&#8212;<br>
+And go prepared for changes. Now you look,<br>
+Like&#8212;like&#8212;oh, where's a pretty simile?<br>
+Had you a pocket mirror here you'd see<br>
+How well my native talent is displayed<br>
+In shawling you. Red on the brunette maid;<br>
+Blue on the blonde&#8212;and quite without design<br>
+(Oh, where <i>is</i> that comparison of mine?)<br>
+Well&#8212;like a June rose and a violet blue<br>
+In one bouquet! I fancy that will do.<br>
+And now I crave your patience and a boon,<br>
+Which is to listen, while I read my rhyme,<br>
+A floating fancy of the summer time.<br>
+'Tis neither witty, wonderful, nor wise,<br>
+So listen kindly&#8212;but don't criticise<br>
+My maiden effort of the afternoon:<br>
+
+<blockquote>
+"If all the ships I have at sea<br>
+&#160;Should come a&#8209;sailing home to me,<br>
+&#160;Ah, well! the harbor could not hold<br>
+&#160;So many sails as there would be<br>
+&#160;If all my ships came in from sea.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 39]</span>"If half my ships came home from sea,<br>
+&#160;And brought their precious freight to me,<br>
+&#160;Ah, well! I should have wealth as great<br>
+&#160;As any king who sits in state&#8212;<br>
+&#160;So rich the treasures that would be<br>
+&#160;In half my ships now out at sea.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"If just one ship I have at sea<br>
+&#160;Should come a&#8209;sailing home to me,<br>
+&#160;Ah, well! the storm&#8209;clouds then might frown:<br>
+&#160;For if the others all went down<br>
+&#160;Still rich and proud and glad I'd be,<br>
+&#160;If that one ship came back to me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"If that one ship went down at sea,<br>
+&#160;And all the others came to me,<br>
+&#160;Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,<br>
+&#160;With glory, honor, riches, gold,<br>
+&#160;The poorest soul on earth I'd be<br>
+&#160;If that one ship came not to me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"O skies be calm? O winds blow free&#8212;<br>
+&#160;Blow all my ships safe home to me.<br>
+&#160;But if thou sendest some a&#8209;wrack<br>
+&#160;To never more come sailing back,<br>
+&#160;Send any&#8212;all, that skim the sea,<br>
+&#160;But bring my love&#8209;ship home to me."<br>
+</blockquote>
+
+Helen was leaning by me, and her head<br>
+Rested against my shoulder: as he read,<br>
+I stroked her hair, and watched the fleecy skies,<br>
+And when he finished, did not turn my eyes.<br>
+I felt too happy and too shy to meet<br>
+His gaze just then. I said, "'Tis very sweet,<br>
+And suits the day; does it not, Helen, dear?"<br>
+But Helen, voiceless, did not seem to hear.<br>
+"'Tis strange," I added, "how you poets sing<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 40]</span>So feelingly about the very thing<br>
+You care not for! and dress up an ideal<br>
+So well, it looks a living, breathing real!<br>
+Now, to a listener, your love song seemed<br>
+A heart's out&#8209;pouring; yet I've heard you say<br>
+Almost the opposite; or that you deemed<br>
+Position, honor, glory, power, fame,<br>
+Gained without loss of conscience or good name,<br>
+The things to live for."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Have you? Well you may,"<br>
+Laughed Vivian, "but 'twas years&#8212;or months ago!<br>
+And Solomon says wise men change, you know!<br>
+I now speak truth! if she I hold most dear<br>
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,<br>
+My heart would find the years more lonely here.<br>
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,<br>
+And sent an exile to a foreign land."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+His voice was low, and measured: as he spoke,<br>
+New, unknown chords of melody awoke<br>
+Within my soul. I felt my heart expand<br>
+With that sweet fullness born of love. I turned<br>
+To hide the blushes on my cheek that burned,<br>
+And leaning over Helen, breathed her name.<br>
+She lay so motionless I thought she slept:<br>
+But, as I spoke, I saw her eyes unclose,<br>
+And o'er her face a sudden glory swept,<br>
+And a slight tremor thrilled all through her frame.<br>
+"Sweet friend," I said, "your face is full of light:<br>
+What were the dreams that made your eyes so bright?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 41]</span>She only smiled for answer, and arose<br>
+From her reclining posture at my side,<br>
+Threw back the clust'ring ringlets from her face<br>
+With a quick gesture, full of easy grace,<br>
+And, turning, spoke to Vivian. "Will you guide<br>
+The boat up near that little clump of green<br>
+Off to the right? There's where the lilies grow.<br>
+We quite forgot our errand here, Maurine,<br>
+And our few moments have grown into hours.<br>
+What will Aunt Ruth think of our ling'ring so?<br>
+There&#8212;that will do&#8212;now I can reach the flowers."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Hark! just hear that!" and Vivian broke forth singing,<br>
+"Row, brothers, row." "The six o'clock bell's ringing!<br>
+Who ever knew three hours to go so fast<br>
+In all the annals of the world, before?<br>
+I could have sworn not over one had passed.<br>
+Young ladies, I am forced to go ashore!<br>
+I thank you for the pleasure you have given;<br>
+This afternoon has been a glimpse of heaven.<br>
+Good night&#8212;sweet dreams! and by your gracious leave,<br>
+I'll pay my compliments to&#8209;morrow eve."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+A smile, a bow, and he had gone his way:<br>
+And, in the waning glory of the day,<br>
+Down cool, green lanes, and through the length'ning shadows,<br>
+Silent, we wandered back across the meadows.<br>
+The wreath was finished, and adorned my room;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 42]</span>Long afterward, the lilies' copied bloom<br>
+Was like a horrid specter in my sight,<br>
+Staring upon me morning, noon, and night.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The sun went down. The sad new moon rose up,<br>
+And passed before me, like an empty cup,<br>
+The Great Unseen brims full of pain or bliss,<br>
+And gives His children, saying, "Drink of this."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+A light wind, from the open casement, fanned<br>
+My brow and Helen's, as we, hand in hand,<br>
+Sat looking out upon the twilight scene,<br>
+In dreamy silence. Helen's dark blue eyes,<br>
+Like two lost stars that wandered from the skies<br>
+Some night adown the meteor's shining track,<br>
+And always had been grieving to go back,<br>
+Now gazed up, wistfully, at heaven's dome,<br>
+And seemed to recognize and long for home.<br>
+Her sweet voice broke the silence: "Wish, Maurine,<br>
+Before you speak! you know the moon is new,<br>
+And anything you wish for will come true<br>
+Before it wanes. I do believe the sign!<br>
+Now tell me your wish, and I'll tell you mine."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I turned and looked up at the slim young moon;<br>
+And, with an almost superstitious heart,<br>
+I sighed, "Oh, new moon! help me, by thine art,<br>
+To grow all grace and goodness, and to be<br>
+Worthy the love a true heart proffers me."<br>
+Then smiling down, I said, "Dear one! my boon,<br>
+I fear, is quite too silly or too sweet<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 43]</span>For my repeating: so we'll let it stay<br>
+Between the moon and me. But if I may<br>
+I'll listen now to your wish. Tell me, please!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+All suddenly she nestled at my feet,<br>
+And hid her blushing face upon my knees.<br>
+Then drew my hand against her glowing cheek,<br>
+And, leaning on my breast, began to speak,<br>
+Half sighing out the words my tortured ear<br>
+Reached down to catch, while striving not to hear.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Can you not guess who 'twas about, Maurine?<br>
+Oh, my sweet friend! you must ere this have seen<br>
+The love I tried to cover from all eyes<br>
+And from myself. Ah, foolish little heart!<br>
+As well it might go seeking for some art<br>
+Whereby to hide the sun in noonday skies.<br>
+When first the strange sound of his voice I heard,<br>
+Looked on his noble face, and touched his hand,<br>
+My slumb'ring heart thrilled through and through, and stirred<br>
+As if to say, 'I hear, and understand.'<br>
+And day by day mine eyes were blest beholding<br>
+The inner beauty of his life, unfolding<br>
+In countless words and actions, that portrayed<br>
+The noble stuff of which his soul was made.<br>
+And more and more I felt my heart upreaching<br>
+Toward the truth, drawn gently by his teaching,<br>
+As flowers are drawn by sunlight. And there grew<br>
+A strange, shy something in its depths, I knew<br>
+At length was love, because it was so sad,<br>
+And yet so sweet, and made my heart so glad,<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 44]</span>Yet seemed to pain me. Then, for very shame,<br>
+Lest all should read my secret and its name.<br>
+I strove to hide it in my breast away,<br>
+Where God could see it only. But each day<br>
+It seemed to grow within me, and would rise,<br>
+Like my own soul, and look forth from my eyes,<br>
+Defying bonds of silence; and would speak,<br>
+In its red&#8209;lettered language, on my cheek,<br>
+If but his name was uttered. You were kind,<br>
+My own Maurine! as you alone could be,<br>
+So long the sharer of my heart and mind,<br>
+While yet you saw, in seeming not to see.<br>
+In all the years we have been friends, my own.<br>
+And loved as women very rarely do,<br>
+My heart no sorrow and no joy has known<br>
+It has not shared at once, in full, with you<br>
+And I so longed to speak to you of this,<br>
+When first I felt its mingled pain and bliss;<br>
+Yet dared not, lest you, knowing him, should say,<br>
+In pity for my folly&#8212;'Lack&#8209;a&#8209;day!<br>
+You are undone: because no mortal art<br>
+Can win the love of such a lofty heart.'<br>
+And so I waited, silent and in pain,<br>
+Till I could know I did not love in vain.<br>
+And now I know, beyond a doubt or fear.<br>
+Did he not say, 'If she I hold most dear<br>
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,<br>
+My heart would find the years more lonely here<br>
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,<br>
+And sent, an exile, to a foreign land'?<br>
+Oh, darling, you must <i>love</i>, to understand<br>
+The joy that thrilled all through me at those words.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 45]</span>It was as if a thousand singing birds<br>
+Within my heart broke forth in notes of praise.<br>
+I did not look up, but I knew his gaze<br>
+Was on my face, and that his eyes must see<br>
+The joy I felt almost transfigured me.<br>
+He loves me&#8212;loves me! so the birds kept singing,<br>
+And all my soul with that sweet strain is ringing.<br>
+If there were added but one drop of bliss,<br>
+No more my cup would hold: and so, this eve,<br>
+I made a wish that I might feel his kiss<br>
+Upon my lips, ere yon pale moon should leave<br>
+The stars all lonely, having waned away,<br>
+Too old and weak and bowed with care to stay."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Her voice sighed into silence. While she spoke<br>
+My heart writhed in me, praying she would cease&#8212;<br>
+Each word she uttered falling like a stroke<br>
+On my bare soul. And now a hush like death,<br>
+Save that 'twas broken by a quick&#8209;drawn breath,<br>
+Fell 'round me, but brought not the hoped&#8209;for peace.<br>
+For when the lash no longer leaves its blows,<br>
+The flesh still quivers, and the blood still flows.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+She nestled on my bosom like a child.<br>
+And 'neath her head my tortured heart throbbed wild<br>
+With pain and pity. She had told her tale&#8212;<br>
+Her self&#8209;deceiving story to the end.<br>
+How could I look down on her as she lay<br>
+So fair, and sweet, and lily&#8209;like, and frail&#8212;<br>
+A tender blossom on my breast, and say,<br>
+"Nay, you are wrong&#8212;you do mistake, dear friend!<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 46]</span>'Tis I am loved, not you"? Yet that were truth,<br>
+And she must know it later.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Should I speak,<br>
+And spread a ghastly pallor o'er the cheek<br>
+Flushed now with joy?&#8212;And while I, doubting, pondered,<br>
+She spoke again. "Maurine! I oft have wondered<br>
+Why you and Vivian were not lovers. He<br>
+Is all a heart could ask its king to be;<br>
+And you have beauty, intellect and youth.<br>
+I think it strange you have not loved each other&#8212;<br>
+Strange how he could pass by you for another<br>
+Not half so fair or worthy. Yet I know<br>
+A loving Father pre&#8209;arranged it so.<br>
+I think my heart has known him all these years,<br>
+And waited for him. And if when he came<br>
+It had been as a lover of my friend,<br>
+I should have recognized him, all the same,<br>
+As my soul&#8209;mate, and loved him to the end,<br>
+Hiding my grief, and forcing back my tears<br>
+Till on my heart, slow dropping, day by day,<br>
+Unseen they fell, and wore it all away.<br>
+And so a tender Father kept him free,<br>
+With all the largeness of his love, for me&#8212;<br>
+For me, unworthy such a precious gift!<br>
+Yet I will bend each effort of my life<br>
+To grow in grace and goodness, and to lift<br>
+My soul and spirit to his lofty height,<br>
+So to deserve that holy name, his wife.<br>
+Sweet friend, it fills my whole heart with delight<br>
+To breathe its long hid secret in your ear.<br>
+Speak, my Maurine, and say you love to hear!"<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 47]</span>The while she spoke, my active brain gave rise<br>
+To one great thought of mighty sacrifice<br>
+And self&#8209;denial. Oh! it blanched my cheek,<br>
+And wrung my soul; and from my heart it drove<br>
+All life and feeling. Coward&#8209;like, I strove<br>
+To send it from me; but I felt it cling<br>
+And hold fast on my mind like some live thing;<br>
+And all the Self within me felt its touch<br>
+And cried, "No, no! I cannot do so much&#8212;<br>
+I am not strong enough&#8212;there is no call."<br>
+And then the voice of Helen bade me speak,<br>
+And with a calmness born of nerve, I said,<br>
+Scarce knowing what I uttered, "Sweetheart, all<br>
+Your joys and sorrows are with mine own wed.<br>
+I thank you for your confidence, and pray<br>
+I may deserve it always. But, dear one,<br>
+Something&#8212;perhaps our boat&#8209;ride in the sun,<br>
+Has set my head to aching. I must go<br>
+To bed directly; and you will, I know,<br>
+Grant me your pardon, and another day<br>
+We'll talk of this together. Now good night<br>
+And angels guard you with their wings of light."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I kissed her lips, and held her on my heart,<br>
+And viewed her as I ne'er had done before.<br>
+I gazed upon her features o'er and o'er;<br>
+Marked her white, tender face&#8212;her fragile form,<br>
+Like some frail plant that withers in the storm;<br>
+Saw she was fairer in her new&#8209;found joy<br>
+Than e'er before; and thought, "Can I destroy<br>
+God's handiwork, or leave it at the best<br>
+A broken harp, while I close clasp my bliss?"<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 48]</span>I bent my head and gave her one last kiss,<br>
+And sought my room, and found there such relief<br>
+As sad hearts feel when first alone with grief.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The moon went down, slow sailing from my sight,<br>
+And left the stars to watch away the night.<br>
+O stars, sweet stars, so changeless and serene!<br>
+What depths of woe your pitying eyes have seen!<br>
+The proud sun sets, and leaves us with our sorrow,<br>
+To grope alone in darkness till the morrow.<br>
+The languid moon, e'en if she deigns to rise,<br>
+Soon seeks her couch, grown weary of our sighs;<br>
+But from the early gloaming till the day<br>
+Sends golden&#8209;liveried heralds forth to say<br>
+He comes in might; the patient stars shine on,<br>
+Steadfast and faithful, from twilight to dawn.<br>
+And, as they shone upon Gethsemane,<br>
+And watched the struggle of a God&#8209;like soul,<br>
+Now from the same far height they shone on me,<br>
+And saw the waves of anguish o'er me roll.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The storm had come upon me all unseen:<br>
+No sound of thunder fell upon my ear;<br>
+No cloud arose to tell me it was near;<br>
+But under skies all sunlit, and serene,<br>
+I floated with the current of the stream,<br>
+And thought life all one golden&#8209;haloed dream.<br>
+When lo! a hurricane, with awful force,<br>
+Swept swift upon its devastating course,<br>
+Wrecked my frail bark, and cast me on the wave<br>
+Where all my hopes had found a sudden grave.<br>
+Love makes us blind and selfish: otherwise<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 49]</span>I had seen Helen's secret in her eyes;<br>
+So used I was to reading every look<br>
+In her sweet face, as I would read a book.<br>
+But now, made sightless by love's blinding rays,<br>
+I had gone on unseeing, to the end<br>
+Where Pain dispelled the mist of golden haze<br>
+That walled me in, and lo! I found my friend<br>
+Who journeyed with me&#8212;at my very side,<br>
+Had been sore wounded to the heart, while I<br>
+Both deaf and blind, saw not, nor heard her cry.<br>
+And then I sobbed, "O God! I would have died<br>
+To save her this." And as I cried in pain,<br>
+There leaped forth from the still, white realm of Thought<br>
+Where Conscience dwells, that unimpassioned spot<br>
+As widely different from the heart's domain<br>
+As north from south&#8212;the impulse felt before,<br>
+And put away; but now it rose once more,<br>
+In greater strength, and said, "Heart, would'st thou prove<br>
+What lips have uttered? Then go lay thy love<br>
+On Friendship's altar, as thy offering."<br>
+"Nay!" cried my heart, "ask any other thing&#8212;<br>
+Ask life itself&#8212;'twere easier sacrifice.<br>
+But ask not love, for that I cannot give."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"But," spoke the voice, "the meanest insect dies,<br>
+And is no hero! heroes dare to live<br>
+When all that makes life sweet is snatched away."<br>
+So with my heart, in converse, till the day<br>
+In gold and crimson billows, rose and broke,<br>
+The voice of Conscience, all unwearied, spoke.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 50]</span>Love warred with Friendship: heart with Conscience fought,<br>
+Hours rolled away, and yet the end was not.<br>
+And wily Self, tricked out like tenderness,<br>
+Sighed, "Think how one, whose life thou wert to bless,<br>
+Will be cast down, and grope in doubt and fear!<br>
+Wouldst thou wound him, to give thy friend relief?<br>
+Can wrong make right?"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Nay!" Conscience said, "but Pride<br>
+And Time can heal the saddest hurts of Love.<br>
+While Friendship's wounds gape wide and yet more wide,<br>
+And bitter fountains of the spirit prove."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+At length, exhausted with the wearing strife,<br>
+I cast the new&#8209;found burden of my life<br>
+On God's broad breast, and sought that deep repose<br>
+That only he who watched with sorrow knows.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<a name="PART_IV"></a>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 51]</span><h4><i>PART IV.</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+"Maurine, Maurine! 'tis ten o'clock! arise,<br>
+My pretty sluggard! open those dark eyes,<br>
+And see where yonder sun is! Do you know<br>
+I made my toilet just four hours ago?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+'T was Helen's voice: and Helen's gentle kiss<br>
+Fell on my cheek. As from a deep abyss,<br>
+I drew my weary self from that strange sleep<br>
+That rests not, nor refreshes. Scarce awake<br>
+Or conscious, yet there seemed a heavy weight<br>
+Bound on my breast, as by a cruel Fate.<br>
+I knew not why, and yet I longed to weep.<br>
+Some dark cloud seemed to hang upon the day;<br>
+And, for a moment, in that trance I lay,<br>
+When suddenly the truth did o'er me break,<br>
+Like some great wave upon a helpless child.<br>
+The dull pain in my breast grew like a knife&#8212;<br>
+The heavy throbbing of my heart grew wild,<br>
+And God gave back the burden of the life<br>
+He kept what time I slumbered.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"You are ill,"<br>
+Cried Helen, "with that blinding headache still!<br>
+You look so pale and weary. Now let me<br>
+Play nurse, Maurine, and care for you to&#8209;day!<br>
+And first I'll suit some dainty to your taste,<br>
+And bring it to you, with a cup of tea."<br>
+And off she ran, not waiting my reply.<br>
+But, wanting most the sunshine and the light,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 52]</span>I left my couch, and clothed myself in haste,<br>
+And, kneeling, sent to God an earnest cry<br>
+For help and guidance.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Show Thou me the way,<br>
+Where duty leads; for I am blind! my sight<br>
+Obscured by self. Oh, lead my steps aright!<br>
+Help me see the path: and if it may,<br>
+Let this cup pass:&#8212;and yet Thou heavenly One<br>
+Thy will in all things, not mine own, be done."<br>
+Rising, I went upon my way, receiving<br>
+The strength prayer gives alway to hearts believing.<br>
+I felt that unseen hands were leading me,<br>
+And knew the end was peace.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"What! are you up?"<br>
+Cried Helen, coming with a tray, and cup,<br>
+Of tender toast, and fragrant smoking tea.<br>
+"You naughty girl! you should have stayed in bed<br>
+Until you ate your breakfast, and were better<br>
+I've something hidden for you here&#8212;a letter.<br>
+But drink your tea before you read it, dear!<br>
+'Tis from some distant cousin, Auntie said,<br>
+And so you need not hurry. Now be good,<br>
+And mind your Helen."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;So, in passive mood,<br>
+I laid the still unopened letter near,<br>
+And loitered at my breakfast more to please<br>
+My nurse, than any hunger to appease.<br>
+Then listlessly I broke the seal and read<br>
+The few lines written in a bold free hand:<br>
+"New London, Canada. Dear Coz. Maurine!<br>
+(In spite of generations stretched between<br>
+Our natural right to that most handy claim<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 53]</span>Of cousinship, we'll use it all the same)<br>
+I'm coming to see you! honestly, in truth!<br>
+I've threatened often&#8212;now I mean to act.<br>
+You'll find my coming is a stubborn fact.<br>
+Keep quiet though, and do not tell Aunt Ruth<br>
+I wonder if she'll know her petted boy<br>
+In spite of changes. Look for me until<br>
+You see me coming. As of old I'm still<br>
+Your faithful friend, and loving cousin, Roy."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So Roy was coming! He and I had played<br>
+As boy and girl, and later, youth and maid,<br>
+Full half our lives together. He had been,<br>
+Like me, an orphan; and the roof of kin<br>
+Gave both kind shelter. Swift years sped away<br>
+Ere change was felt: and then one summer day<br>
+A long lost uncle sailed from India's shore&#8212;<br>
+Made Roy his heir, and he was ours no more.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"He'd write us daily, and we'd see his face<br>
+Once every year." Such was his promise given<br>
+The morn he left. But now the years were seven<br>
+Since last he looked upon the olden place.<br>
+He'd been through college, traveled in all lands,<br>
+Sailed over seas, and trod the desert sands.<br>
+Would write and plan a visit, then, ere long,<br>
+Would write again from Egypt or Hong Kong&#8212;<br>
+Some fancy called him thither unforeseen.<br>
+So years had passed, till seven lay between<br>
+His going and the coming of this note,<br>
+Which I hid in my bosom, and replied<br>
+To Aunt Ruth's queries, "What the truant wrote?"<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 54]</span>By saying he was still upon the wing,<br>
+And merely dropped a line, while journeying,<br>
+To say he lived: and she was satisfied.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Sometimes it happens, in this world so strange,<br>
+A human heart will pass through mortal strife,<br>
+And writhe in torture: while the old sweet life<br>
+So full of hope, and beauty, bloom and grace,<br>
+Is slowly strangled by remorseless Pain:<br>
+And one stern, cold, relentless, takes its place&#8212;<br>
+A ghastly, pallid specter of the slain.<br>
+Yet those in daily converse see no change<br>
+Nor dream the heart has suffered.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;So that day<br>
+I passed along toward the troubled way<br>
+Stern duty pointed, and no mortal guessed<br>
+A mighty conflict had disturbed my breast.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I had resolved to yield up to my friend<br>
+The man I loved. Since she, too, loved him so<br>
+I saw no other way in honor left.<br>
+She was so weak and fragile, once bereft<br>
+Of this great hope, that held her with such power<br>
+She would wilt down, like some frost&#8209;bitten flower<br>
+And swift untimely death would be the end.<br>
+But I was strong: and hardy plants, which grow<br>
+In out&#8209;door soil, can bear bleak winds that blow<br>
+From Arctic lands, whereof a single breath<br>
+Would lay the hot&#8209;house blossom low in death.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The hours went by, too slow, and yet too fast.<br>
+All day I argued with my foolish heart<br>
+That bade me play the shrinking coward's part<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 55]</span>And hide from pain. And when the day had past<br>
+And time for Vivian's call drew near and nearer,<br>
+It pleaded. "Wait, until the way seems clearer:<br>
+Say you are ill&#8212;or busy: keep away<br>
+Until you gather strength enough to play<br>
+The part you have resolved on."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Nay, not so,"<br>
+Made answer clear&#8209;eyed Reason, "Do you go<br>
+And put your resolution to the test.<br>
+Resolve, however nobly formed, at best<br>
+Is but a still born babe of Thought, until<br>
+It proves existence of its life and will<br>
+By sound or action."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;So when Helen came<br>
+And knelt by me, her fair face all aflame<br>
+With sudden blushes, whispering, "My sweet!<br>
+My heart can hear the music of his feet&#8212;<br>
+Go down with me to meet him," I arose,<br>
+And went with her all calmly, as one goes<br>
+To look upon the dear face of the dead.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+That eve, I know not what I did or said.<br>
+I was not cold&#8212;my manner was not strange:<br>
+Perchance I talked more freely than my wont,<br>
+But in my speech was naught could give affront;<br>
+Yet I conveyed, as only woman can,<br>
+That nameless <i>something</i>, which bespeaks a change.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+'Tis in the power of woman, if she be<br>
+Whole&#8209;souled and noble, free from coquetry&#8212;<br>
+Her motives all unselfish, worthy, good,<br>
+To make herself and feelings understood<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 56]</span>By nameless acts&#8212;thus sparing what to man,<br>
+However gently answered, causes pain,<br>
+The offering of his hand and heart in vain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+She can be friendly, unrestrained, and kind,<br>
+Assume no airs of pride or arrogance;<br>
+But in her voice, her manner, and her glance,<br>
+Convey that mystic something, undefined,<br>
+Which men fail not to understand and read,<br>
+And, when not blind with egoism, heed.<br>
+My task was harder. 'T was the slow undoing<br>
+Of long sweet months of unimpeded wooing.<br>
+It was to hide and cover and conceal<br>
+The truth&#8212;assuming, what I did not feel.<br>
+It was to dam love's happy singing tide<br>
+That blessed me with its hopeful, tuneful tone,<br>
+By feigned indiff'rence, till it turned aside,<br>
+And changed its channel, leaving me alone<br>
+To walk parched plains, and thirst for that sweet draught<br>
+My lips had tasted, but another quaffed.<br>
+It could be done. For no words yet were spoken&#8212;<br>
+None to recall&#8212;no pledges to be broken.<br>
+"He will be grieved, then angry, cold, then cross,"<br>
+I reasoned, thinking what would be his part<br>
+In this strange drama. "Then, because his he<br>
+Feels something lacking, to make good his loss,<br>
+He'll turn to Helen: and her gentle grace<br>
+And loving acts will win her soon the place<br>
+I hold to&#8209;day: and like a troubled dream<br>
+At length, our past, when he looks back, will seem."<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 57]</span>That evening passed with music, chat and song:<br>
+But hours that once had flown on airy wings<br>
+Now limped on weary, aching limbs along,<br>
+Each moment like some dreaded step that brings<br>
+A twinge of pain.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;As Vivian rose to go,<br>
+Slow bending to me, from his greater height,<br>
+He took my hand, and, looking in my eyes,<br>
+With tender questioning and pained surprise,<br>
+Said, "Maurine, you are not yourself to&#8209;night!<br>
+What is it? Are you ailing?"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Ailing? no,"<br>
+I answered, laughing lightly, "I am not:<br>
+Just see my cheek, sir! is it thin, or pale?<br>
+Now tell me, am I looking very frail?"<br>
+"Nay, nay!" he answered, "it can not be <i>seen</i>,<br>
+The change I speak of&#8212;'twas more in your mien:<br>
+Preoccupation, or&#8212;I know not what!<br>
+Miss Helen, am I wrong, or does Maurine<br>
+Seem to have something on her mind this eve?"<br>
+"She does!" laughed Helen, "and I do believe<br>
+I know what 'tis! A letter came to&#8209;day<br>
+Which she read slyly, and then hid away<br>
+Close to her heart, not knowing I was near:<br>
+And since she's been as you have seen her here.<br>
+See how she blushes! so my random shot<br>
+We must believe has struck a tender spot."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Her rippling laughter floated through the room,<br>
+And redder yet I felt the hot blood rise,<br>
+Then surge away to leave me pale as death,<br>
+Under the dark and swiftly gathering gloom<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 58]</span>Of Vivian's questioning, accusing eyes,<br>
+That searched my soul. I almost shrieked beneath<br>
+That stern, fixed gaze; and stood spellbound until<br>
+He turned with sudden movement, gave his hand<br>
+To each in turn, and said, "You must not stand<br>
+Longer, young ladies, in this open door.<br>
+The air is heavy with a cold damp chill.<br>
+We shall have rain to&#8209;morrow, or before.<br>
+Good night."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He vanished in the darkling shade;<br>
+And so the dreaded evening found an end,<br>
+That saw me grasp the conscience&#8209;whetted blade,<br>
+And strike a blow for honor and for friend.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"How swiftly passed the evening!" Helen sighed.<br>
+"How long the hours!" my tortured heart replied.<br>
+Joy, like a child, with lightsome steps doth glide<br>
+By Father Time, and, looking in his face,<br>
+Cries, snatching blossoms from the fair road&#8209;side,<br>
+"I could pluck more, but for thy hurried pace."<br>
+The while her elder brother Pain, man grown,<br>
+Whose feet are hurt by many a thorn and stone,<br>
+Looks to some distant hill&#8209;top, high and calm,<br>
+Where he shall find not only rest, but balm<br>
+For all his wounds, and cries in tones of woe,<br>
+"O Father Time! why is thy pace so slow?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Two days, all sad with lonely wind and rain,<br>
+Went sobbing by, repeating o'er and o'er<br>
+The miserere, desolate and drear,<br>
+Which every human heart must sometime hear.<br>
+Pain is but little varied. Its refrain,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 59]</span>Whate'er the words are, is for aye the same.<br>
+The third day brought a change: for with it came<br>
+Not only sunny smiles to Nature's face,<br>
+But Roy, our Roy came back to us. Once more<br>
+We looked into his laughing, handsome eyes,<br>
+Which, while they gave Aunt Ruth a glad surprise<br>
+In no way puzzled her: for one glance told<br>
+What each succeeding one confirmed, that he<br>
+Who bent above her with the lissome grace<br>
+Of his fine form, though grown so tall, could be<br>
+No other than the Roy Montaine of old.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It was a sweet reunion: and he brought<br>
+So much of sunshine with him, that I caught,<br>
+Just from his smile alone, enough of gladness<br>
+To make my heart forget a time its sadness.<br>
+We talked together of the dear old days:<br>
+Leaving the present, with its depths and heights<br>
+Of life's maturer sorrows and delights,<br>
+I turned back to my childhood's level land,<br>
+And Roy and I, dear playmates, hand in hand,<br>
+Wandered in mem'ry, through the olden ways.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It was the second evening of his coming.<br>
+Helen was playing dreamily, and humming<br>
+Some wordless melody of white&#8209;souled thought,<br>
+While Roy and I sat by the open door,<br>
+Re&#8209;living childish incidents of yore.<br>
+My eyes were glowing, and my cheeks were hot<br>
+With warm young blood; excitement, joy, or pain<br>
+Alike would send swift coursing through each vein.<br>
+Roy, always eloquent, was waxing fine,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 60]</span>And bringing vividly before my gaze<br>
+Some old adventure of those halcyon days,<br>
+When suddenly in pauses of the talk,<br>
+I heard a well&#8209;known step upon the walk,<br>
+And looked up quickly to meet full in mine<br>
+The eyes of Vivian Dangerfield. A flash<br>
+Shot from their depths:&#8212;a sudden blaze of light<br>
+Like that swift followed by the thunder's crash,<br>
+Which said, "Suspicion is confirmed by sight,"<br>
+As they fell on the pleasant door&#8209;way scene.<br>
+Then o'er his clear&#8209;cut face, a cold white look<br>
+Crept, like the pallid moonlight o'er a brook,<br>
+And, with a slight, proud bending of the head,<br>
+He stepped toward us haughtily and said,<br>
+"Please pardon my intrusion, Miss Maurine:<br>
+I called to ask Miss Trevor for a book<br>
+She spoke of lending me: nay, sit you still!<br>
+And I, by grant of your permission, will<br>
+Pass by to where I hear her playing."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Stay!"<br>
+I said, "one moment, Vivian, if you please;"<br>
+And suddenly bereft of all my ease,<br>
+And scarcely knowing what to do, or say,<br>
+Confused as any school&#8209;girl, I arose,<br>
+And some way made each to the other known<br>
+They bowed, shook hands: then Vivian turned away<br>
+And sought out Helen, leaving us alone.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"One of Miss Trevor's, or of Maurine's beaux?<br>
+Which may he be, who cometh like a prince<br>
+With haughty bearing, and an eagle eye?"<br>
+Roy queried, laughing: and I answered, "Since<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 61]</span>You saw him pass me for Miss Trevor's side,<br>
+I leave your own good judgment to reply."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And straightway caused the tide of talk to glide<br>
+In other channels, striving to dispel<br>
+The sudden gloom that o'er my spirit fell.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We mortals are such hypocrites at best!<br>
+When Conscience tries our courage with a test,<br>
+And points to some steep pathway, we set out<br>
+Boldly, denying any fear or doubt;<br>
+But pause before the first rock in the way,<br>
+And, looking back, with tears, at Conscience, say<br>
+"We are so sad, dear Conscience! for we would<br>
+Most gladly do what to thee seemeth good;<br>
+But lo! this rock! we cannot climb it, so<br>
+Thou must point out some other way to go."<br>
+Yet secretly we are rejoicing: and,<br>
+When right before our faces, as we stand<br>
+In seeming grief, the rock is cleft in twain,<br>
+Leaving the pathway clear, we shrink in pain!<br>
+And loth to go, by every act reveal<br>
+What we so tried from Conscience to conceal.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I saw that hour, the way made plain, to do<br>
+With scarce an effort, what had seemed a strife<br>
+That would require the strength of my whole life.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Women have quick perceptions: and I knew<br>
+That Vivian's heart was full of jealous pain,<br>
+Suspecting&#8212;nay <i>believing</i> Roy Montaine<br>
+To be my lover.&#8212;First my altered mien&#8212;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 62]</span>And next the letter&#8212;then the door&#8209;way scene&#8212;<br>
+My flushed face gazing in the one above<br>
+That bent so near me, and my strange confusion<br>
+When Vivian came, all led to one conclusion:<br>
+That I had but been playing with his love,<br>
+As women sometimes cruelly do play<br>
+With hearts when their true lovers are away.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+There could be nothing easier, than just<br>
+To let him linger on in this belief<br>
+Till hourly&#8209;fed Suspicion and Distrust<br>
+Should turn to scorn and anger all his grief.<br>
+Compared with me, so doubly sweet and pure<br>
+Would Helen seem, my purpose would be sure,<br>
+And certain of completion in the end.<br>
+But now, the way was made so straight and clear,<br>
+My coward heart shrank back in guilty fear,<br>
+Till Conscience whispered with her "still small voice,"<br>
+"The precious time is passing&#8212;make thy choice&#8212;<br>
+Resign thy love, or slay thy trusting friend."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The growing moon, watched by the myriad eyes<br>
+Of countless stars, went sailing through the skies,<br>
+Like some young prince, rising to rule a nation,<br>
+To whom all eyes are turned in expectation.<br>
+A woman who possesses tact and art<br>
+And strength of will can take the hand of doom,<br>
+And walk on, smiling sweetly as she goes,<br>
+With rosy lips, and rounded cheeks of bloom,<br>
+Cheating a loud&#8209;tongued world that never knows<br>
+The pain and sorrow of her hidden heart.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 63]</span>And so I joined in Roy's bright changing chat;<br>
+Answered his sallies&#8212;talked of this and that,<br>
+My brow unruffled as the calm still wave<br>
+That tells not of the wrecked ship, and the grave<br>
+Beneath its surface.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Then we heard, ere long,<br>
+The sound of Helen's gentle voice in song,<br>
+And, rising, entered where the subtle power<br>
+Of Vivian's eyes, forgiving while accusing,<br>
+Finding me weak, had won me, in that hour;<br>
+But Roy, alway polite and debonair<br>
+Where ladies were, now hung about my chair<br>
+With nameless delicate attentions, using<br>
+That air devotional, and those small arts<br>
+Acquaintance with society imparts<br>
+To men gallant by nature.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;'T was my sex<br>
+And not myself he bowed to. Had my place<br>
+Been filled that evening by a dowager,<br>
+Twice his own age, he would have given her<br>
+The same attentions. But they served to vex<br>
+Whatever hope in Vivian's heart remained.<br>
+The cold, white look crept back upon his face,<br>
+Which told how deeply he was hurt and pained.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Little by little all things had conspired,<br>
+To bring events I dreaded, yet desired.<br>
+We were in constant intercourse: walks, rides,<br>
+Picnics and sails, filled weeks of golden weather,<br>
+And almost hourly we were thrown together.<br>
+No words were spoken of rebuke or scorn:<br>
+Good friends we seemed. But as a gulf divides<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 64]</span>This land and that, though lying side by side,<br>
+So rolled a gulf between us&#8212;deep and wide&#8212;<br>
+The gulf of doubt, which widened slowly morn<br>
+And noon and night.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Free and informal were<br>
+These picnics and excursions. Yet, although<br>
+Helen and I would sometimes choose to go<br>
+Without our escorts, leaving them quite free.<br>
+It happened alway Roy would seek out me<br>
+Ere passed the day, while Vivian walked with her.<br>
+I had no thought of flirting. Roy was just<br>
+Like some dear brother, and I quite forgot<br>
+The kinship was so distant it was not<br>
+Safe to rely upon in perfect trust,<br>
+Without reserve or caution. Many a time<br>
+When there was some steep mountain side to climb,<br>
+And I grew weary, he would say, "Maurine,<br>
+Come rest you here." And I would go and lean<br>
+My head upon his shoulder, or would stand<br>
+And let him hold in his my willing hand.<br>
+The while he stroked it gently with his own.<br>
+Or I would let him clasp me with his arm,<br>
+Nor entertained a thought of any harm,<br>
+Nor once supposed but Vivian was alone<br>
+In his suspicions. But ere long the truth<br>
+I learned in consternation! both Aunt Ruth<br>
+And Helen, honestly, in faith believed<br>
+That Roy and I were lovers.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Undeceived,<br>
+Some careless words might open Vivian's eyes<br>
+And spoil my plans. So reasoning in this wise,<br>
+To all their sallies I in jest replied,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 65]</span>To naught assented, and yet naught denied,<br>
+With Roy unchanged remaining, confident<br>
+Each understood just what the other meant.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+If I grew weary of this double part,<br>
+And self&#8209;imposed deception caused my heart<br>
+Sometimes to shrink, I needed but to gaze<br>
+On Helen's face: that wore a look ethereal,<br>
+As if she dwelt above the things material<br>
+And held communion with the angels. So<br>
+I fed my strength and courage through the days.<br>
+What time the harvest moon rose full and clear<br>
+And cast its ling'ring radiance on the earth,<br>
+We made a feast; and called from far and near,<br>
+Our friends, who came to share the scene of mirth.<br>
+Fair forms and faces flitted to and fro;<br>
+But none more sweet than Helen's. Robed in white,<br>
+She floated like a vision through the dance.<br>
+So frailly fragile and so phantom fair,<br>
+She seemed like some stray spirit of the air,<br>
+And was pursued by many an anxious glance<br>
+That looked to see her fading from the sight<br>
+Like figures that a dreamer sees at night.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And noble men and gallants graced the scene:<br>
+Yet none more noble or more grand of mien<br>
+Than Vivian&#8212;broad of chest and shoulder, tall<br>
+And finely formed, as any Grecian god<br>
+Whose high&#8209;arched foot on Mount Olympus trod.<br>
+His clear&#8209;cut face was beardless; and, like those<br>
+Same Grecian statues, when in calm repose,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 66]</span>Was it in hue and feature. Framed in hair<br>
+Dark and abundant; lighted by large eyes<br>
+That could be cold as steel in winter air,<br>
+Or warm and sunny as Italian skies.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Weary of mirth and music, and the sound<br>
+Of tripping feet, I sought a moment's rest<br>
+Within the lib'ry, where a group I found<br>
+Of guests, discussing with apparent zest<br>
+Some theme of interest&#8212;Vivian, near the while,<br>
+Leaning and listening with his slow odd smile.<br>
+"Now Miss La Pelle, we will appeal to you,"<br>
+Cried young Guy Semple, as I entered. "We<br>
+Have been discussing right before his face,<br>
+All unrebuked by him, as you may see,<br>
+A poem lately published by our friend:<br>
+And we are quite divided. I contend<br>
+The poem is a libel and untrue<br>
+I hold the fickle women are but few,<br>
+Compared with those who are like yon fair moon<br>
+That, ever faithful, rises in her place<br>
+Whether she's greeted by the flowers of June,<br>
+Or cold and dreary stretches of white space."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Oh!" cried another, "Mr. Dangerfield,<br>
+Look to your laurels! or you needs must yield<br>
+The crown to Semple, who, 'tis very plain,<br>
+Has mounted Pegasus and grasped his mane."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+All laughed: and then, as Guy appealed to me<br>
+I answered lightly, "My young friend, I fear<br>
+You chose a most unlucky simile<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 67]</span>To prove the truth of woman. To her place<br>
+The moon does rise&#8212;but with a different face<br>
+Each time she comes. But now I needs must hear<br>
+The poem read, before I can consent<br>
+To pass my judgment on the sentiment."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+All clamored that the author was the man<br>
+To read the poem: and, with tones that said<br>
+More than the cutting, scornful words he read,<br>
+Taking the book Guy gave him, he began:<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<blockquote>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;HER LOVE.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The sands upon the ocean side<br>
+That change about with every tide,<br>
+And never true to one abide,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;A woman's love I liken to.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The summer zephyrs, light and vain,<br>
+That sing the same alluring strain<br>
+To every grass blade on the plain&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;A woman's love is nothing more.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The sunshine of an April day<br>
+That comes to warm you with its ray,<br>
+But while you smile has flown away&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;A woman's love is like to this.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+God made poor woman with no heart,<br>
+But gave her skill, and tact, and art,<br>
+And so she lives, and plays her part.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;We must not blame, but pity her.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+She leans to man&#8212;but just to hear<br>
+The praise he whispers in her ear,<br>
+Herself, not him, she holdeth dear&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;O fool! to be deceived by her.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 68]</span>To sate her selfish thirst she quaffs<br>
+The love of strong hearts in sweet draughts<br>
+Then throws them lightly by and laughs,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Too weak to understand their pain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As changeful as the winds that blow<br>
+From every region, to and fro,<br>
+Devoid of heart, she cannot know<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;The suffering of a human heart.<br>
+</blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+I knew the cold, fixed gaze of Vivian's eyes<br>
+Saw the slow color to my forehead rise;<br>
+But lightly answered, toying with my fan,<br>
+"That sentiment is very like a man!<br>
+Men call us fickle, but they do us wrong;<br>
+We're only frail and helpless, men are strong;<br>
+And when love dies, they take the poor dead thing<br>
+And make a shroud out of their suffering,<br>
+And drag the corpse about with them for years.<br>
+But we?&#8212;we mourn it for a day with tears!<br>
+And then we robe it for its last long rest,<br>
+And being women, feeble things at best,<br>
+We cannot dig the grave ourselves. And so<br>
+We call strong&#8209;limbed New Love to lay it low:<br>
+Immortal sexton he! whom Venus sends<br>
+To do this service for her earthly friends,<br>
+The trusty fellow digs the grave so deep<br>
+Nothing disturbs the dead laid there to sleep."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The laugh that followed had not died away<br>
+Ere Roy Montaine came seeking me, to say<br>
+The band was tuning for our waltz, and so<br>
+Back to the ball&#8209;room bore me. In the glow<br>
+And heat and whirl, my strength ere long was spent,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 69]</span>And I grew faint and dizzy, and we went<br>
+Out on the cool moonlighted portico,<br>
+And, sitting there, Roy drew my languid head<br>
+Upon the shelter of his breast, and bent<br>
+His smiling eyes upon me, as he said,<br>
+"I'll try the mesmerism of my touch<br>
+To work a cure: be very quiet now,<br>
+And let me make some passes o'er your brow.<br>
+Why, how it throbs! you've exercised too much!<br>
+I shall not let you dance again to&#8209;night."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Just then before us, in the broad moonlight,<br>
+Two forms were mirrored: and I turned my face<br>
+To catch the teasing and mischievous glance<br>
+Of Helen's eyes, as, heated by the dance,<br>
+Leaning on Vivian's arm, she sought this place.<br>
+<br>
+"I beg your pardon," came in that round tone<br>
+Of his low voice. "I think we do intrude."<br>
+Bowing, they turned, and left us quite alone<br>
+Ere I could speak, or change my attitude.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<a name="PART_V"></a>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 70]</span><h4><i>PART V.</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+A visit to a cave some miles away<br>
+Was next in order. So, one sunny day,<br>
+Four prancing steeds conveyed a laughing load<br>
+Of merry pleasure&#8209;seekers o'er the road.<br>
+A basket picnic, music and croquet<br>
+Were in the programme. Skies were blue and clear,<br>
+And cool winds whispered of the Autumn near.<br>
+The merry&#8209;makers filled the time with pleasure:<br>
+Some floated to the music's rhythmic measure,<br>
+Some played, some promenaded on the green.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Ticked off by happy hearts, the moments passed.<br>
+The afternoon, all glow and glimmer, came.<br>
+Helen and Roy were leaders of some game,<br>
+And Vivian was not visible.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Maurine,<br>
+I challenge you to climb yon cliff with me!<br>
+And who shall tire, or reach the summit last<br>
+Must pay a forfeit," cried a romping maid.<br>
+"Come! start at once, or own you are afraid."<br>
+So challenged I made ready for the race,<br>
+Deciding first the forfeit was to be<br>
+A handsome pair of bootees to replace<br>
+The victor's loss who made the rough ascent.<br>
+The cliff was steep and stony. On we went<br>
+As eagerly as if the path was Fame,<br>
+And what we climbed for, glory and a name.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 71]</span>My hands were bruised; my garments sadly rent,<br>
+But on I clambered. Soon I heard a cry,<br>
+"Maurine! Maurine! my strength is wholly spent!<br>
+You've won the boots! I'm going back&#8212;good bye!"<br>
+And back she turned, in spite of laugh and jeer.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I reached the summit: and its solitude,<br>
+Wherein no living creature did intrude,<br>
+Save some sad birds that wheeled and circled near,<br>
+I found far sweeter than the scene below.<br>
+Alone with One who knew my hidden woe,<br>
+I did not feel so much alone as when<br>
+I mixed with th' unthinking throngs of men.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Some flowers that decked the barren, sterile place<br>
+I plucked, and read the lesson they conveyed,<br>
+That in our lives, albeit dark with shade<br>
+And rough and hard with labor, yet may grow<br>
+The flowers of Patience, Sympathy, and Grace.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As I walked on in meditative thought,<br>
+A serpent writhed across my pathway; not<br>
+A large or deadly serpent; yet the sight<br>
+Filled me with ghastly terror and affright.<br>
+I shrieked aloud: a darkness veiled my eyes&#8212;<br>
+And I fell fainting 'neath the watchful skies.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I was no coward. Country&#8209;bred and born,<br>
+I had no feeling but the keenest scorn<br>
+For those fine lady "ah's" and "oh's" of fear<br>
+So much assumed (when any man is near).<br>
+But God implanted in each human heart<br>
+A natural horror, and a sickly dread<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 72]</span>Of that accurs&#232;d, slimy, creeping thing<br>
+That squirms a limbless carcass o'er the ground.<br>
+And where that inborn loathing is not found<br>
+You'll find the serpent qualities instead.<br>
+Who fears it not, himself is next of kin,<br>
+And in his bosom holds some treacherous art<br>
+Whereby to counteract its venomed sting.<br>
+And all are sired by Satan&#8212;Chief of Sin.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Who loathes not that foul creature of the dust,<br>
+However fair in seeming, I distrust.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I woke from my unconsciousness, to know<br>
+I leaned upon a broad and manly breast,<br>
+And Vivian's voice was speaking, soft and low,<br>
+Sweet whispered words of passion, o'er and o'er.<br>
+I dared not breathe. Had I found Eden's shore?<br>
+Was this a foretaste of eternal bliss?<br>
+"My love," he sighed, his voice like winds that moan<br>
+Before a rain in Summer time, "My own,<br>
+For one sweet stolen moment, lie and rest<br>
+Upon this heart that loves and hates you both!<br>
+O fair false face! Why were you made so fair!<br>
+O mouth of Southern sweetness! that ripe kiss<br>
+That hangs upon you, I do take an oath<br>
+<i>His</i> lips shall never gather. There!&#8212;and there!<br>
+I steal it from him. Are you his&#8212;all his?<br>
+Nay you are mine, this moment, as I dreamed&#8212;<br>
+Blind fool&#8212;believing you were what you seemed&#8212;<br>
+You would be mine in all the years to come.<br>
+Fair fiend! I love and hate you in a breath.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 73]</span>O God! if this white pallor were but <i>death</i>,<br>
+And I were stretched beside you, cold and dumb,<br>
+My arms about you, so&#8212;in fond embrace!<br>
+My lips pressed, so&#8212;upon your dying face!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Woman, how dare you bring me to such shame!<br>
+How dare you drive me to an act like this,<br>
+To steal from your unconscious lips the kiss<br>
+You lured me on to think my rightful claim!<br>
+O frail and puny woman! could you know<br>
+The devil that you waken in the hearts<br>
+You snare and bind in your enticing arts,<br>
+The thin, pale stuff that in your veins doth flow<br>
+Would freeze in terror.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Strange you have such power<br>
+To please, or pain us, poor, weak, soulless things&#8212;<br>
+Devoid of passion as a senseless flower!<br>
+Like butterflies, your only boast, your wings.<br>
+There, now, I scorn you&#8212;scorn you from this hour,<br>
+And hate myself for having talked of love!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He pushed me from him. And I felt as those<br>
+Doomed angels must, when pearly gates above<br>
+Are closed against them.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;With a feigned surprise<br>
+I started up and opened wide my eyes,<br>
+And looked about. Then in confusion rose<br>
+And stood before him.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Pardon me, I pray!"<br>
+He said quite coldly. "Half an hour ago<br>
+I left you with the company below,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 74]</span>And sought this cliff. A moment since you cried,<br>
+It seemed, in sudden terror and alarm.<br>
+I came in time to see you swoon away.<br>
+You'll need assistance down the rugged side<br>
+Of this steep cliff. I pray you take my arm."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So, formal and constrained, we passed along,<br>
+Rejoined our friends, and mingled with the throng<br>
+To have no further speech again that day.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Next morn there came a bulky document,<br>
+The legal firm of Blank &amp; Blank had sent,<br>
+Containing news unlooked for. An estate<br>
+Which proved a cosy fortune&#8212;no&#8209;wise great<br>
+Or princely&#8212;had in France been left to me,<br>
+My grandsire's last descendant. And it brought<br>
+A sense of joy and freedom in the thought<br>
+Of foreign travel, which I hoped would be<br>
+A panacea for my troubled mind,<br>
+That longed to leave the olden scenes behind<br>
+With all their recollections, and to flee<br>
+To some strange country.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I was in such haste<br>
+To put between me and my native land<br>
+The briny ocean's desolating waste,<br>
+I gave Aunt Ruth no peace, until she planned<br>
+To sail that week, two months: though she was fain<br>
+To wait until the Springtime. Roy Montaine<br>
+Would be our guide and escort.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;No one dreamed<br>
+The cause of my strange hurry, but all seemed<br>
+To think good fortune had quite turned my brain.<br>
+One bright October morning, when the woods<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 75]</span>Had donned their purple mantles and red hoods<br>
+In honor of the Frost King, Vivian came,<br>
+Bringing some green leaves, tipped with crimson flame,&#8212;<br>
+First trophies of the Autumn time.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And Roy<br>
+Made a proposal that we all should go<br>
+And ramble in the forest for a while.<br>
+But Helen said she was not well&#8212;and so<br>
+Must stay at home. Then Vivian, with a smile,<br>
+Responded, "I will stay and talk to you,<br>
+And they may go;" at which her two cheeks grew<br>
+Like twin blush roses;&#8212;dyed with love's red wave,<br>
+Her fair face shone transfigured with great joy.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And Vivian saw&#8212;and suddenly was grave.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Roy took my arm in that protecting way<br>
+Peculiar to some men, which seems to say,<br>
+"I shield my own," a manner pleasing, e'en<br>
+When we are conscious that it does not mean<br>
+More than a simple courtesy. A woman<br>
+Whose heart is wholly feminine and human,<br>
+And not unsexed by hobbies, likes to be<br>
+The object of that tender chivalry,<br>
+That guardianship which man bestows on her,<br>
+Yet mixed with deference; as if she were<br>
+Half child, half angel.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Though she may be strong,<br>
+Noble and self&#8209;reliant, not afraid<br>
+To raise her hand and voice against all wrong<br>
+And all oppression, yet if she be made,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 76]</span>With all the independence of her thought,<br>
+A woman womanly, as God designed,<br>
+Albeit she may have as great a mind<br>
+As man, her brother, yet his strength of arm<br>
+His muscle and his boldness she has not,<br>
+And cannot have without she loses what<br>
+Is far more precious, modesty and grace.<br>
+So, walking on in her appointed place,<br>
+She does not strive to ape him, nor pretend<br>
+But that she needs him for a guide and friend,<br>
+To shield her with his greater strength from harm.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We reached the forest; wandered to and fro<br>
+Through many a winding path and dim retreat.<br>
+Till I grew weary: when I chose a seat<br>
+Upon an oak tree, which had been laid low<br>
+By some wind storm, or by some lightning stroke.<br>
+And Roy stood just below me, where the ledge<br>
+On which I sat sloped steeply to the edge<br>
+Of sunny meadows lying at my feet.<br>
+One hand held mine; the other grasped a limb<br>
+That cast its checkered shadows over him;<br>
+And, with his head thrown back, his dark eyes raised<br>
+And fixed upon me, silently he gazed<br>
+Until I, smiling, turned to him and spoke:<br>
+"Give words, my cousin, to those thoughts that rise,<br>
+And, like dumb spirits, look forth from your eyes."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The smooth and even darkness of his cheek<br>
+Was stained one moment by a flush of red.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 77]</span>He swayed his lithe form nearer as he stood<br>
+Still clinging to the branch above his head.<br>
+His brilliant eyes grew darker; and he said,<br>
+With sudden passion, "Do you bid me speak?<br>
+I can not, then, keep silence if I would.<br>
+That hateful fortune, coming as it did,<br>
+Forbade my speaking sooner; for I knew<br>
+A harsh tongued world would quickly misconstrue<br>
+My motive for a meaner one. But, sweet,<br>
+So big my heart has grown with love for you<br>
+I can not shelter it, or keep it hid.<br>
+And so I cast it throbbing at your feet,<br>
+For you to guard and cherish, or to break.<br>
+Maurine, I love you better than my life.<br>
+My friend&#8212;my cousin&#8212;be still more, my wife!<br>
+Maurine, Maurine, what answer do you make?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I scarce could breathe for wonderment; and numb<br>
+With truth that fell too suddenly, sat dumb<br>
+With sheer amaze, and stared at Roy with eyes<br>
+That looked no feeling but complete surprise.<br>
+He swayed so near his breath was on my cheek.<br>
+"Maurine, Maurine," he whispered, "will you speak?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then suddenly, as o'er some magic glass<br>
+One picture in a score of shapes will pass,<br>
+I seemed to see Roy glide before my gaze.<br>
+First, as the playmate of my earlier days&#8212;<br>
+Next, as my kin&#8212;and then my valued friend,<br>
+And last, my lover. As when colors blend<br>
+In some unlooked&#8209;for group before our eyes,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 78]</span>We hold the glass, and look them o'er and o'er<br>
+So now I gazed on Roy in his new guise,<br>
+In which he ne'er appeared to me before.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+His form was like a panther's in its grace,<br>
+So lithe and supple, and of medium height,<br>
+And garbed in all the elegance of fashion.<br>
+His large black eyes were full of fire and passion,<br>
+And in expression fearless, firm, and bright.<br>
+His hair was like the very deeps of night,<br>
+And hung in raven clusters 'round a face<br>
+Of dark and flashing beauty.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He was more<br>
+Like some romantic maiden's grand ideal<br>
+Than like a common being. As I gazed<br>
+Upon the handsome face to mine upraised,<br>
+I saw before me, living, breathing, real,<br>
+The hero of my early day&#8209;dreams: though<br>
+So full my heart was with that clear&#8209;cut face,<br>
+Which, all unlike, yet claimed the hero's place,<br>
+I had not recognized him so before,<br>
+Or thought of him, save as a valued friend.<br>
+So now I called him, adding,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Foolish boy!<br>
+Each word of love you utter aims a blow<br>
+At that sweet trust I had reposed in you.<br>
+I was so certain I had found a true,<br>
+Steadfast man friend, on whom I could depend,<br>
+And go on wholly trusting, to the end.<br>
+Why did you shatter my delusion, Roy,<br>
+By turning to a lover?"<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 79]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Why, indeed!<br>
+Because I loved you more than any brother,<br>
+Or any friend could love." Then he began<br>
+To argue like a lawyer, and to plead<br>
+With all his eloquence. And, listening,<br>
+I strove to think it was a goodly thing<br>
+To be so fondly loved by such a man,<br>
+And it were best to give his wooing heed,<br>
+And not deny him. Then before my eyes<br>
+In all its clear&#8209;cut majesty, that other<br>
+Haughty and poet&#8209;handsome face would rise<br>
+And rob my purpose of all life and strength.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Roy urged and argued, as Roy only could,<br>
+With that impetuous, boyish eloquence.<br>
+He held my hands, and vowed I must, and should<br>
+Give some least hope; till, in my own defense,<br>
+I turned upon him, and replied at length:<br>
+"I thank you for the noble heart you offer:<br>
+But it deserves a true one in exchange.<br>
+I could love you if I loved not another<br>
+Who keeps my heart; so I have none to proffer."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then, seeing how his dark eyes flashed, I said,<br>
+"Dear Roy! I know my words seem very strange;<br>
+But I love one I cannot hope to wed.<br>
+A river rolls between us, dark and deep.<br>
+To cross it&#8212;were to stain with blood my hand.<br>
+You force my speech on what I fain would keep<br>
+In my own bosom, but you understand?<br>
+My heart is given to love that's sanctified,<br>
+And now can feel no other.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 80]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Be you kind<br>
+Dear Roy, my brother! speak of this no more,<br>
+Lest pleading and denying should divide<br>
+The hearts so long united. Let me find<br>
+In you my cousin and my friend of yore<br>
+And now come home. The morning, all too soon<br>
+And unperceived, has melted into noon.<br>
+Helen will miss us, and we must return."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He took my hand, and helped me to arise,<br>
+Smiling upon me with his sad dark eyes.<br>
+Where passion's fires had, sudden, ceased to burn.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"And so," he said, "too soon and unforeseen<br>
+My friendship melted into love, Maurine.<br>
+But, sweet! I am not wholly in the blame,<br>
+For what you term my folly. You forgot,<br>
+So long we'd known each other, I had not<br>
+In truth a brother's or a cousin's claim.<br>
+But I remembered, when through every nerve<br>
+Your lightest touch went thrilling; and began<br>
+To love you with that human love of man<br>
+For comely woman. By your coaxing arts,<br>
+You won your way into my heart of hearts,<br>
+And all Platonic feelings put to rout.<br>
+A maid should never lay aside reserve<br>
+With one who's not her kinsman, out and out.<br>
+But as we now, with measured steps, retrace<br>
+The path we came, e'en so my heart I'll send,<br>
+At your command, back to the olden place,<br>
+And strive to love you only as a friend."<br>
+I felt the justice of his mild reproof,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 81]</span>But answered laughing, "'Tis the same old cry:<br>
+'The woman tempted me, and I did eat.'<br>
+Since Adam's time we've heard it. But I'll try<br>
+And be more prudent, sir, and hold aloof<br>
+The fruit I never once had thought so sweet<br>
+'Twould tempt you any. Now go dress for dinner,<br>
+Thou sinned against! as also will the sinner.<br>
+And guard each act, that no least look betray<br>
+What's passed between us."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Then I turned away<br>
+And sought my room, low humming some old air<br>
+That ceased upon the threshold; for mine eyes<br>
+Fell on a face so glorified and fair<br>
+All other senses, merged in that of sight,<br>
+Were lost in contemplation of the bright<br>
+And wond'rous picture, which had otherwise<br>
+Made dim my vision.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Waiting in my room,<br>
+Her whole face lit as by an inward flame<br>
+That shed its halo 'round her, Helen stood;<br>
+Her fair hands folded like a lily's leaves<br>
+Weighed down by happy dews of summer eves.<br>
+Upon her cheek the color went and came<br>
+As sunlight flickers o'er a bed of bloom;<br>
+And, like some slim young sapling of the wood,<br>
+Her slender form leaned slightly; and her hair<br>
+Fell 'round her loosely, in long curling strands<br>
+All unconfined, and as by loving hands<br>
+Tossed into bright confusion.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Standing there,<br>
+Her starry eyes uplifted, she did seem<br>
+Like some unearthly creature of a dream;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 82]</span>Until she started forward, gliding slowly,<br>
+And broke the breathless silence, speaking lowly,<br>
+As one grown meek, and humble in an hour,<br>
+Bowing before some new and mighty power.<br>
+<br>
+"Maurine, Maurine!" she murmured, and again,<br>
+"Maurine, my own sweet friend, Maurine!"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And then,<br>
+Laying her love light hands upon my head,<br>
+She leaned, and looked into my eyes, and said<br>
+With voice that bore her joy in ev'ry tone,<br>
+As winds that blow across a garden bed<br>
+Are weighed with fragrance, "He is mine alone,<br>
+And I am his&#8212;all his&#8212;his very own.<br>
+So pledged this hour, by that most sacred tie<br>
+Save one beneath God's over&#8209;arching sky.<br>
+I could not wait to tell you of my bliss:<br>
+I want your blessing, sweetheart! and your kiss."<br>
+So hiding my heart's trouble with a smile,<br>
+I leaned and kissed her dainty mouth; the while<br>
+I felt a guilt&#8209;joy, as of some sweet sin,<br>
+When my lips fell where his so late had been.<br>
+And all day long I bore about with me<br>
+A sense of shame&#8212;yet mixed with satisfaction,<br>
+As some starved child might steal a loaf, and be<br>
+Sad with the guilt resulting from her action,<br>
+While yet the morsel in her mouth was sweet.<br>
+That ev'ning when the house had settled down<br>
+To sleep and quiet, to my room there crept<br>
+A lithe young form, robed in a long white gown:<br>
+With steps like fall of thistle&#8209;down she came,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 83]</span>Her mouth smile&#8209;wreathed; and, breathing low my name,<br>
+Nestled in graceful beauty at my feet.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Sweetheart," she murmured softly, "ere I sleep,<br>
+I needs must tell you all my tale of joy.<br>
+Beginning where you left us&#8212;you and Roy.<br>
+You saw the color flame upon my cheek<br>
+When Vivian spoke of staying. So did he;&#8212;<br>
+And, when we were alone, he gazed at me<br>
+With such a strange look in his wond'rous eyes.<br>
+The silence deepened; and I tried to speak<br>
+Upon some common topic, but could not,<br>
+My heart was in such tumult.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In this wise<br>
+Five happy moments glided by us, fraught<br>
+With hours of feeling. Vivian rose up then,<br>
+And came and stood by me, and stroked my hair.<br>
+And, in his low voice, o'er and o'er again,<br>
+Said, 'Helen, little Helen, frail and fair.'<br>
+Then took my face, and turned it to the light,<br>
+And looking in my eyes, and seeing what<br>
+Was shining from them, murmured, sweet and low,<br>
+'Dear eyes, you cannot veil the truth from sight.<br>
+You love me, Helen! answer, is it so?'<br>
+And I made answer straightway, 'With my life<br>
+And soul and strength I love you, O my love!'<br>
+He leaned and took me gently to his breast,<br>
+And said, 'Here then this dainty head shall rest<br>
+Henceforth forever: O my little dove!<br>
+My lily&#8209;bud&#8212;my fragile blossom&#8209;wife!'<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 84]</span>"And then I told him all my thoughts; and he<br>
+Listened, with kisses for his comments, till<br>
+My tale was finished. Then he said, 'I will<br>
+Be frank with you, my darling, from the start,<br>
+And hide no secret from you in my heart.<br>
+I love you, Helen, but you are not first<br>
+To rouse that love to being. Ere we met<br>
+I loved a woman madly&#8212;never dreaming<br>
+She was not all in truth she was in seeming.<br>
+Enough! she proved to be that thing accursed<br>
+Of God and man&#8212;a wily vain coquette.<br>
+I hate myself for having loved her. Yet<br>
+So much my heart spent on her, it must give<br>
+A love less ardent, and less prodigal,<br>
+Albeit just as tender and as true&#8212;<br>
+A milder, yet a faithful love to you.<br>
+Just as some evil fortune might befall<br>
+A man's great riches, causing him to live<br>
+In some low cot, all unpretending, still<br>
+As much his home&#8212;as much his loved retreat,<br>
+As was the princely palace on the hill,<br>
+E'en so I give you all that's left, my sweet!<br>
+Of my heart&#8209;fortune.'<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;'That were more to me,'<br>
+I made swift smiling answer, 'than to be<br>
+The worshiped consort of a king.' And so<br>
+Our faith was pledged. But Vivian would not go<br>
+Until I vowed to wed him New Year day.<br>
+And I am sad because you go away<br>
+Before that time. I shall not feel half wed<br>
+Without you here. Postpone your trip and stay,<br>
+And be my bridesmaid."<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 85]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Nay, I cannot, dear!<br>
+'Twould disarrange our plans for half a year.<br>
+I'll be in Europe New Year day," I said,<br>
+"And send congratulations by the cable."<br>
+And from my soul thanked Providence for sparing<br>
+The pain, to me, of sharing in, and wearing<br>
+The festal garments of a wedding scene,<br>
+While all my heart was hung with sorrow's sable.<br>
+Forgetting for a season, that between<br>
+The cup and lip lies many a chance of loss,<br>
+I lived in my near future, confident<br>
+All would be as I planned it; and, across<br>
+The briny waste of waters, I should find<br>
+Some balm and comfort for my troubled mind.<br>
+The sad Fall days, like maidens auburn&#8209;tressed<br>
+And amber&#8209;eyed, in purple garments dressed,<br>
+Passed by, and dropped their tears upon the tomb<br>
+Of fair Queen Summer, buried in her bloom.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Roy left us for a time, and Helen went<br>
+To make the nuptial preparations. Then,<br>
+Aunt Ruth complained one day of feeling ill:<br>
+Her veins ran red with fever; and the skill<br>
+Of two physicians could not stem the tide.<br>
+The house, that rang so late with laugh and jest,<br>
+Grew ghostly with low whispered sounds; and when<br>
+The Autumn day, that I had thought to be<br>
+Bounding upon the billows of the sea,<br>
+Came sobbing in, it found me pale and worn,<br>
+Striving to keep away that unloved guest<br>
+Who comes unbidden, making hearts to mourn.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 86]</span>Through all the anxious weeks I watched beside<br>
+The suff'rer's couch, Roy was my help and stay;<br>
+Others were kind, but he alone each day<br>
+Brought strength and comfort, by his cheerful face,<br>
+And hopeful words, that fell in that sad place<br>
+Like rays of light upon a darkened way.<br>
+November passed; and Winter, crisp and chill,<br>
+In robes of ermine walked on plain and hill.<br>
+Returning light and life dispelled the gloom<br>
+That cheated Death had brought us from the tomb.<br>
+Aunt Ruth was saved, and slowly getting better&#8212;<br>
+Was dressed each day, and walked about the room.<br>
+Then came one morning in the Eastern mail,<br>
+A little white&#8209;winged birdling of a letter.<br>
+I broke the seal and read,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Maurine, my own!<br>
+I hear Aunt Ruth is better, and am glad.<br>
+I felt so sorry for you; and so sad<br>
+To think I left you when I did&#8212;alone<br>
+To bear your pain and worry, and those nights<br>
+Of weary, anxious watching.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Vivian writes<br>
+Your plans are changed now, and you will not sail<br>
+Before the Springtime. So you'll come and be<br>
+My bridesmaid, darling! Do not say me nay.<br>
+But three weeks more of girlhood left to me.<br>
+Come, if you can, just two weeks from to&#8209;day,<br>
+And make your preparations here. My sweet!<br>
+Indeed I am not glad Aunt Ruth was ill&#8212;<br>
+I'm sorry she has suffered so; and still<br>
+I'm thankful something happened, so you stayed.<br>
+I'm sure my wedding would be incomplete<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 87]</span>Without your presence. Selfish, I'm afraid<br>
+You'll think your Helen. But I love you so,<br>
+How can I be quite willing you should go?<br>
+Come Christmas Eve, or earlier. Let me know<br>
+And I will meet you, dearie! at the train.<br>
+Your happy, loving Helen."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Then the pain<br>
+That, hidden under later pain and care,<br>
+Had made no moan, but silent, seemed to sleep,<br>
+Woke from its trance&#8209;like lethargy, to steep<br>
+My tortured heart in anguish and despair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I had relied too fully on my skill<br>
+In bending circumstances to my will:<br>
+And now I was rebuked and made to see<br>
+That God alone knoweth what is to be.<br>
+Then came a messenger from Vivian, who<br>
+Came not himself, as he was wont to do,<br>
+But sent his servant each new day to bring<br>
+A kindly message, or an offering<br>
+Of juicy fruits to cool the lips of fever,<br>
+Or dainty hot&#8209;house blossoms, with their bloom<br>
+To brighten up the convalescent's room.<br>
+But now the servant only brought a line<br>
+From Vivian Dangerfield to Roy Montaine,<br>
+"Dear Sir, and Friend"&#8212;in letters bold and plain,<br>
+Written on cream&#8209;white paper, so it ran:<br>
+"It is the will and pleasure of Miss Trevor,<br>
+And therefore doubly so a wish of mine,<br>
+That you shall honor me next New Year Eve,<br>
+My wedding hour, by standing as best man.<br>
+Miss Trevor has six bridesmaids I believe.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 88]</span>Being myself a novice in the art&#8212;<br>
+If I should fail in acting well my part,<br>
+I'll need protection 'gainst the regiment<br>
+Of outraged ladies. So, I pray, consent<br>
+To stand by me in time of need, and shield<br>
+Your friend sincerely, Vivian Dangerfield."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The last least hope had vanished; I must drain,<br>
+E'en to the dregs, this bitter cup of pain.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<a name="PART_VI"></a>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 89]</span><h4><i>PART VI.</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+There was a week of bustle and of hurry;<br>
+A stately home echoed to voices sweet,<br>
+Calling, replying; and to tripping feet<br>
+Of busy bridesmaids, running to and fro,<br>
+With all that girlish fluttering and flurry<br>
+Preceding such occasions.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Helen's room<br>
+Was like a lily&#8209;garden, all in bloom,<br>
+Decked with the dainty robes of her trousseau.<br>
+My robe was fashioned by swift, skillful hands&#8212;<br>
+A thing of beauty, elegant and rich,<br>
+A mystery of loopings, puffs and bands;<br>
+And as I watched it growing, stitch by stitch,<br>
+I felt as one might feel who should behold<br>
+With vision trance&#8209;like, where his body lay<br>
+In deathly slumber, simulating clay,<br>
+His grave&#8209;cloth sewed together, fold on fold.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I lived with ev'ry nerve upon the strain,<br>
+As men go into battle; and the pain,<br>
+That, more and more, to my sad heart revealed,<br>
+Grew ghastly with its horrors, was concealed<br>
+From mortal eyes by superhuman power,<br>
+That God bestowed upon me, hour by hour.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+What night the Old Year gave unto the New<br>
+The key of human happiness and woe,<br>
+The pointed stars, upon their field of blue,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 90]</span>Shone, white and perfect, o'er a world below,<br>
+Of snow&#8209;clad beauty; all the trees were dressed<br>
+In gleaming garments, decked with diadems,<br>
+Each seeming like a bridal&#8209;bidden guest,<br>
+Coming o'er&#8209;laden with a gift of gems.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The bustle of the dressing room; the sound<br>
+Of eager voices in discourse; the clang<br>
+Of "sweet bells jangled"; thud of steel&#8209;clad feet<br>
+That beat swift music on the frozen ground&#8212;<br>
+All blent together in my brain, and rang<br>
+A medley of strange noises, incomplete,<br>
+And full of discords.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Then out on the night<br>
+Streamed from this open vestibule, a light<br>
+That lit the velvet blossoms which we trod,<br>
+With all the hues of those that deck the sod.<br>
+The grand cathedral windows were ablaze<br>
+With gorgeous colors; through a sea of bloom,<br>
+Up the long aisle, to join the waiting groom,<br>
+The bridal cortege passed.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;As some lost soul<br>
+Might surge on with the curious crowd, to gaze<br>
+Upon its coffined body, so I went<br>
+With that glad festal throng. The organ sent<br>
+Great waves of melody along the air,<br>
+That broke and fell, in liquid drops, like spray,<br>
+On happy hearts that listened. But to me<br>
+It sounded faintly, as if miles away,<br>
+A troubled spirit, sitting in despair<br>
+Beside the sad and ever&#8209;moaning sea,<br>
+Gave utterance to sighing sounds of dole.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 91]</span>We paused before the altar. Framed in flowers,<br>
+The white&#8209;robed man of God stood forth.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I heard<br>
+The solemn service open; through long hours<br>
+I seemed to stand and listen, while each word<br>
+Fell on my ear as falls the sound of clay<br>
+Upon the coffin of the worshiped dead.<br>
+The stately father gave the bride away:<br>
+The bridegroom circled with a golden band<br>
+The taper finger of her dainty hand.<br>
+The last imposing, binding words were said&#8212;<br>
+"What God has joined let no man put asunder"&#8212;<br>
+And all my strife with self was at an end;<br>
+My lover was the husband of my friend.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+How strangely, in some awful hour of pain,<br>
+External trifles with our sorrows blend!<br>
+I never hear the mighty organ's thunder,<br>
+I never catch the scent of heliotrope,<br>
+Nor see stained windows all ablaze with light,<br>
+Without that dizzy whirling of the brain,<br>
+And all the ghastly feeling of that night,<br>
+When my sick heart relinquished love and hope.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The pain we feel so keenly may depart,<br>
+And e'en its memory cease to haunt the heart;<br>
+But some slight thing, a perfume, or a sound<br>
+Will probe the closed recesses of the wound,<br>
+And for a moment bring the old&#8209;time smart.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Congratulations, kisses, tears and smiles,<br>
+Good&#8209;byes and farewells given; then across<br>
+The snowy waste of weary wintry miles,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 92]</span>Back to my girlhood's home, where, through each room,<br>
+For evermore pale phantoms of delight<br>
+Should aimless wander, always in my sight,<br>
+Pointing, with ghostly fingers, to the tomb<br>
+Wet with the tears of living pain and loss.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The sleepless nights of watching and of care,<br>
+Followed by that one week of keenest pain,<br>
+Taxing my weakened system, and my brain,<br>
+Brought on a ling'ring illness.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Day by day,<br>
+In that strange, apathetic state I lay,<br>
+Of mental and of physical despair.<br>
+I had no pain, no fever, and no chill,<br>
+But lay without ambition, strength, or will,<br>
+Knowing no wish for anything but rest,<br>
+Which seemed, of all God's store of gifts, the best.<br>
+<br>
+Physicians came and shook their heads and sighed;<br>
+And to their score of questions I replied,<br>
+With but one languid answer, o'er and o'er.<br>
+"I am so weary&#8212;weary&#8212;nothing more."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I slept, and dreamed I was some feathered thing,<br>
+Flying through space with ever&#8209;aching wing,<br>
+Seeking a ship called Rest all snowy white,<br>
+That sailed and sailed before me, just in sight,<br>
+But always one unchanging distance kept,<br>
+And woke more weary than before I slept.<br>
+<br>
+
+I slept, and dreamed I ran to win a prize.<br>
+A hand from heaven held down before my eyes.<br>
+All eagerness I sought it&#8212;it was gone,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 93]</span>But shone in all its beauty farther on.<br>
+I ran, and ran, and ran, in eager quest<br>
+Of that great prize, whereon was written "rest,"<br>
+Which ever just beyond my reach did gleam,<br>
+And wakened doubly weary with my dream.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I dreamed I was a crystal drop of rain,<br>
+That saw a snow&#8209;white lily on the plain,<br>
+And left the cloud to nestle in her breast.<br>
+I fell and fell, but nevermore found rest&#8212;<br>
+I fell and fell, but found no stopping place,<br>
+Through leagues and leagues of never&#8209;ending space,<br>
+While space illimitable stretched before.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And all these dreams but wearied me the more.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Familiar voices sounded in my room&#8212;<br>
+Aunt Ruth's and Roy's, and Helen's: but they seemed<br>
+A part of some strange fancy I had dreamed,<br>
+And now remembered dimly.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Wrapped in gloom,<br>
+My mind, o'er taxed, lost hold of time at last,<br>
+Ignored its future, and forgot its past,<br>
+And groped along the present, as a light,<br>
+Carried, uncovered, through the fogs of night,<br>
+Will flicker faintly.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But I felt, at length,<br>
+When March winds brought vague rumors of the spring,<br>
+A certain sense of "restlessness with rest."<br>
+My aching frame was weary of repose,<br>
+And wanted action.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 94]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Then slow&#8209;creeping strength<br>
+Came back with Mem'ry, hand in hand, to bring<br>
+And lay upon my sore and bleeding breast,<br>
+Grim&#8209;visaged Recollection's thorny rose.<br>
+I gained, and failed. One day could ride and walk,<br>
+The next would find me prostrate: while a flock<br>
+Of ghostly thoughts, like phantom birds, would flit<br>
+About the chambers of my heart, or sit,<br>
+Pale spectres of the past, with folded wings,<br>
+Perched, silently, upon the voiceless strings,<br>
+That once resounded to Hope's happy lays.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So passed the ever&#8209;changing April days.<br>
+When May came, lightsome footed, o'er the lea,<br>
+Accompanied by kind Aunt Ruth and Roy,<br>
+I bade farewell to home with secret joy,<br>
+And turned my wan face eastward to the sea.<br>
+Roy planned our route of travel: for all lands<br>
+Were one to him. Or Egypt's burning sands,<br>
+Or Alps of Switzerland, or stately Rome,<br>
+All were familiar as the fields of home.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+There was a year of wand'ring to and fro,<br>
+Like restless spirits; scaling mountain heights;<br>
+Dwelling among the countless, rare delights<br>
+Of lands historic; turning dusty pages,<br>
+Stamped with the tragedies of mighty ages;<br>
+Gazing upon the scenes of bloody acts,<br>
+Of kings long buried&#8212;bare, unvarnished facts,<br>
+Surpassing wildest fictions of the brain;<br>
+Rubbing against all people, high and low,<br>
+And by this contact feeling Self to grow<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 95]</span>Smaller and less important, and the vein<br>
+Of human kindness deeper, seeing God,<br>
+Unto the humble delver of the sod,<br>
+And to the ruling monarch on the throne,<br>
+Has given hope, ambition, joy, and pain,<br>
+And that all hearts have feelings like our own.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+There is no school that disciplines the mind,<br>
+And broadens thought, like contact with mankind.<br>
+The college&#8209;prisoned greybeard, who has burned<br>
+The midnight lamp, and book&#8209;bound knowledge learned,<br>
+Till sciences or classics hold no lore<br>
+He has not conned and studied, o'er and o'er,<br>
+Is but a babe in wisdom, when compared<br>
+With some unlettered wand'rer, who has shared<br>
+The hospitalities of every land;<br>
+Felt touch of brother in each proffered hand;<br>
+Made man his study, and the world his college,<br>
+And gained this grand epitome of knowledge:<br>
+Each human being has a heart and soul,<br>
+And self is but an atom of the whole.<br>
+I hold he is best learn&#232;d and most wise,<br>
+Who best and most can love and sympathize.<br>
+Book&#8209;wisdom makes us vain and self&#8209;contained;<br>
+Our banded minds go round in little grooves;<br>
+But constant friction with the world removes<br>
+These iron foes to freedom, and we rise<br>
+To grander heights, and, all untrammeled, find<br>
+A better atmosphere and clearer skies;<br>
+And through its broadened realm, no longer chained,<br>
+Thought travels freely, leaving Self behind.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 96]</span>Where'er we chanced to wander or to roam,<br>
+Glad letters came from Helen; happy things,<br>
+Like little birds that followed on swift wings,<br>
+Bringing their tender messages from home.<br>
+Her days were poems, beautiful, complete.<br>
+The rhythm perfect, and the burden sweet.<br>
+She was so happy&#8212;happy, and so blest.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+My heart had found contentment in that year.<br>
+With health restored, my life seemed full of cheer<br>
+The heart of youth turns ever to the light;<br>
+Sorrow and gloom may curtain it like night,<br>
+But, in its very anguish and unrest,<br>
+It beats and tears the pall&#8209;like folds away,<br>
+And finds again the sunlight of the day.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And yet, despite the changes without measure,<br>
+Despite sight&#8209;seeing, round on round of pleasure;<br>
+Despite new friends, new suitors, still my heart<br>
+Was conscious of a something lacking, where<br>
+Love once had dwelt, and afterward despair.<br>
+Now love was buried; and despair had flown<br>
+Before the healthful zephyrs that had blown<br>
+From heights serene and lofty; and the place<br>
+Where both had dwelt, was empty, voiceless space<br>
+And so I took my long&#8209;loved study, art,<br>
+The dreary vacuum in my life to fill,<br>
+And worked, and labored, with a right good will.<br>
+Aunt Ruth and I took rooms in Rome; while Roy<br>
+Lingered in Scotland, with his new&#8209;found joy.<br>
+A dainty little lassie, Grace Kildare,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 97]</span>Had snared him in her flossy, flaxen hair,<br>
+And made him captive.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;We were thrown, by chance,<br>
+In contact with her people while in France<br>
+The previous season: she was wholly sweet<br>
+And fair and gentle; so n&#228;ive, and yet<br>
+So womanly, she was at once the pet<br>
+Of all our party; and, ere many days,<br>
+Won by her fresh face, and her artless ways,<br>
+Roy fell a helpless captive at her feet.<br>
+Her home was in the Highlands; and she came<br>
+Of good old stock, of fair untarnished fame.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Through all these months Roy had been true as steel;<br>
+And by his every action made me feel<br>
+He was my friend and brother, and no more.<br>
+The same big&#8209;souled and trusty friend of yore.<br>
+Yet, in my secret heart, I wished I knew<br>
+Whether the love he felt one time was dead,<br>
+Or only hidden, for my sake, from view.<br>
+So when he came to me one day, and said,<br>
+The velvet blackness of his eyes ashine<br>
+With light of love and triumph: "Cousin, mine,<br>
+Congratulate me! She whom I adore<br>
+Has pledged to me the promise of her hand;<br>
+Her heart I have already," I was glad<br>
+With double gladness, for it freed my mind<br>
+Of fear that he, in secret, might be sad.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+From March till June had left her moons behind,<br>
+And merged her rose&#8209;red beauty in July,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 98]</span>There was no message from my native land.<br>
+Then came a few brief lines, by Vivian penned:<br>
+Death had been near to Helen, but passed by;<br>
+The danger was now over. God was kind;<br>
+The mother and the child were both alive;<br>
+No other child was ever known to thrive<br>
+As throve this one, nurse had been heard to say.<br>
+The infant was a wonder, every way.<br>
+And, at command of Helen he would send<br>
+A lock of baby's golden hair to me.<br>
+And did I, on my honor, ever see<br>
+Such hair before? Helen would write, ere long:<br>
+She gained quite slowly, but would soon be strong&#8212;<br>
+Stronger than ever, so the doctors said.<br>
+I took the tiny ringlet, golden&#8212;fair,<br>
+Mayhap his hand had severed from the head<br>
+Of his own child, and pressed it to my cheek<br>
+And to my lips, and kissed it o'er and o'er.<br>
+All my maternal instincts seemed to rise,<br>
+And clamor for their rights, while my wet eyes,<br>
+Rained tears upon the silken tress of hair.<br>
+The woman struggled with her heart before!<br>
+It was the mother in me now did speak,<br>
+Moaning, like Rachel, that her babes were not,<br>
+And crying out against her barren lot.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Once I bemoaned the long and lonely years<br>
+That stretched before me, dark with love's eclipse;<br>
+And thought how my unmated heart would miss<br>
+The shelter of a broad and manly breast&#8212;<br>
+The strong, bold arm&#8212;the tender clinging kiss&#8212;<br>
+And all pure love's possessions, manifold;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 99]</span>But now I wept a flood of bitter tears,<br>
+Thinking of little heads of shining gold,<br>
+That would not on my bosom sink to rest;<br>
+Of little hands that would not touch my cheek;<br>
+Of little lisping voices, and sweet lips,<br>
+That never in my list'ning ear would speak<br>
+The blessed name of mother.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Oh, in woman<br>
+How mighty is the love of offspring! Ere<br>
+Unto her wond'ring, untaught mind unfolds<br>
+The myst'ry that is half divine, half human,<br>
+Of life and birth, the love of unborn souls<br>
+Within her, and the mother&#8209;yearning creeps<br>
+Through her warm heart, and stirs its hidden deeps,<br>
+And grows and strengthens with each riper year.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As storms may gather in a placid sky,<br>
+And spend their fury, and then pass away,<br>
+Leaving again the blue of cloudless day,<br>
+E'en so the tempest of my grief passed by.<br>
+'T was weak to mourn for what I had resigned,<br>
+With the deliberate purpose of my mind,<br>
+To my sweet friend.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Relinquishing my love,<br>
+I gave my dearest hope of joy to her.<br>
+If God, from out his boundless store above,<br>
+Had chosen added blessings to confer,<br>
+I would rejoice, for her sake&#8212;not repine<br>
+That th' immortal treasures were not mine.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Better my lonely sorrow, than to know<br>
+My selfish joy had been another's woe;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 100]</span>Better my grief and my strength to control,<br>
+Than the despair of her frail&#8209;bodied soul;<br>
+Better to go on, loveless, to the end,<br>
+Than wear love's rose, whose thorn had slain my friend.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Work is the salve that heals the wounded heart.<br>
+With will most resolute I set my aim<br>
+To enter on the weary race for Fame,<br>
+And if I failed to climb the dizzy height,<br>
+To reach some point of excellence in art.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+E'en as the Maker held earth incomplete,<br>
+Till man was formed, and placed upon the sod,<br>
+The perfect, living image of his God,<br>
+All landscape scenes were lacking in my sight,<br>
+Wherein the human figure had no part.<br>
+In that, all lines of symmetry did meet&#8212;<br>
+All hues of beauty mingle. So I brought<br>
+Enthusiasm in abundance, thought,<br>
+Much study, and some talent, day by day,<br>
+To help me in my efforts to portray<br>
+The wond'rous power, majesty and grace<br>
+Stamped on some form, or looking from some face.<br>
+This was to be my specialty: To take<br>
+Human emotion for my theme, and make<br>
+The unassisted form divine express<br>
+Anger or Sorrow, Pleasure, Pain, Distress;<br>
+And thus to build Fame's monument above<br>
+The grave of my departed hope and love.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 101]</span>This is not Genius. Genius spreads its wings<br>
+And soars beyond itself, or selfish things.<br>
+Talent has need of stepping&#8209;stones: some cross,<br>
+Some cheated purpose, some great pain or loss,<br>
+Must lay the groundwork, and arouse ambition,<br>
+Before it labors onward to fruition.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But, as the lark from beds of bloom will rise<br>
+And sail and sing among the very skies,<br>
+Still mounting near and nearer to the light,<br>
+Impelled alone by love of upward flight,<br>
+So Genius soars&#8212;it does not need to climb&#8212;<br>
+Upon God&#8209;given wings, to heights sublime.<br>
+Some sportman's shot, grazing the singer's throat,<br>
+Some venomous assault of birds of prey,<br>
+May speed its flight toward the realm of day,<br>
+And tinge with triumph every liquid note.<br>
+So deathless Genius mounts but higher yet,<br>
+When Strife and Envy think to slay or fret.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+There is no balking Genius. Only death<br>
+Can silence it, or hinder. While there's breath<br>
+Or sense of feeling, it will spurn the sod,<br>
+And lift itself to glory, and to God.<br>
+The acorn sprouted&#8212;weeds nor flowers can choke<br>
+The certain growth of th' upreaching oak.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Talent was mine, not Genius; and my mind<br>
+Seemed bound by chains, and would not leave behind<br>
+Its selfish love and sorrow.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 102]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Did I strive<br>
+To picture some emotion, lo! <i>his</i> eyes,<br>
+Of emerald beauty, dark as ocean dyes,<br>
+Looked from the canvas: and my buried pain<br>
+Rose from its grave, and stood by me alive.<br>
+Whate'er my subject, in some hue or line,<br>
+The glorious beauty of his face would shine.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So for a time my labor seemed in vain,<br>
+Since it but freshened, and made keener yet,<br>
+The grief my heart was striving to forget.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+While in his form all strength and magnitude<br>
+With grace and supple sinews were entwined,<br>
+While in his face all beauties were combined<br>
+Of perfect features, intellect and truth,<br>
+With all that fine rich coloring of youth,<br>
+How could my brush portray aught good or fair<br>
+Wherein no fatal likeness should intrude<br>
+Of him my soul had worshiped?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But, at last,<br>
+Setting a watch upon my unwise heart<br>
+That thus would mix its sorrow with my art,<br>
+I resolutely shut away the past,<br>
+And made the toilsome present passing bright<br>
+With dreams of what was hidden from my sight<br>
+In the far distant future, when the soil<br>
+Should yield me golden fruit for all my toil.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<a name="PART_VII"></a>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 103]</span><h4><i>PART VII.</i></h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+With much hard labor and some pleasure fraught,<br>
+The months rolled by me noiselessly, that taught<br>
+My hand to grow more skillful in its art,<br>
+Strengthened my daring dream of fame, and brought<br>
+Sweet hope and resignation to my heart.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Brief letters came from Helen, now and then:<br>
+She was quite well&#8212;oh, yes! quite well, indeed!<br>
+But still so weak and nervous. By and by,<br>
+When baby, being older, should not need<br>
+Such constant care, she would grow strong again.<br>
+She was as happy as a soul could be;<br>
+No least cloud hovered in her azure sky;<br>
+She had not thought life held such depths of bliss.<br>
+Dear baby sent Maurine a loving kiss,<br>
+And said she was a naughty, naughty girl,<br>
+Not to come home and see ma's little pearl.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+No gift of costly jewels, or of gold,<br>
+Had been so precious or so dear to me,<br>
+As each brief line wherein her joy was told.<br>
+It lightened toil, and took the edge from pain,<br>
+Knowing my sacrifice was not in vain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Roy purchased fine estates in Scotland, where<br>
+He built a pretty villa&#8209;like retreat.<br>
+And when the Roman Summer's languid heat<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 104]</span>Made work a punishment, I turned my face<br>
+Toward the Highlands, and with Roy and Grace<br>
+Found rest and freedom from all thought and care.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I was a willing worker. Not an hour<br>
+Passed idly by me: each, I would employ<br>
+To some good purpose, ere it glided on<br>
+To swell the tide of hours forever gone.<br>
+My first completed picture, known as "Joy,"<br>
+Won pleasant words of praise. "Possesses power,"<br>
+"Displays much talent," "Very fairly done."<br>
+So fell the comments on my grateful ear.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Swift in the wake of Joy, and always near,<br>
+Walks her sad sister Sorrow. So my brush<br>
+Began depicting sorrow, heavy&#8209;eyed,<br>
+With pallid visage, ere the rosy flush<br>
+Upon the beaming face of Joy had dried.<br>
+The careful study of long months, it won<br>
+Golden opinions; even bringing forth<br>
+That certain sign of merit&#8212;a critique<br>
+Which set both pieces down as daubs, and weak<br>
+As empty heads that sang their praises&#8212;so<br>
+Proving conclusively the pictures' worth.<br>
+These critics and reviewers do not use<br>
+Their precious ammunition to abuse<br>
+A worthless work. That, left alone, they know<br>
+Will find its proper level; and they aim<br>
+Their batteries at rising works which claim<br>
+Too much of public notice. But this shot<br>
+Resulted only in some noise, which brought<br>
+A dozen people, where one came before<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 105]</span>To view my pictures; and I had my hour<br>
+Of holding those frail baubles, Fame and Pow'r.<br>
+An English Baron who had lived two score<br>
+Of his allotted three score years and ten,<br>
+Bought both the pieces. He was very kind,<br>
+And so attentive, I, not being blind,<br>
+Must understand his meaning.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Therefore, when<br>
+He said,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Sweet friend, whom I would make my wife,<br>
+The 'Joy' and 'Sorrow' this dear hand portrayed<br>
+I have in my possession: now resign<br>
+Into my careful keeping, and make mine,<br>
+The joy and sorrow of your future life,"&#8212;<br>
+I was prepared to answer, but delayed,<br>
+Grown undecided suddenly.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;My mind<br>
+Argued the matter coolly pro and con,<br>
+And made resolve to speed his wooing on<br>
+And grant him favor. He was good and kind;<br>
+Not young, no doubt he would be quite content<br>
+With my respect, nor miss an ardent love;<br>
+Could give me ties of family and home;<br>
+And then, perhaps, my mind was not above<br>
+Setting some value on a titled name&#8212;<br>
+Ambitious woman's weakness!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Then my art<br>
+Would be encouraged and pursued the same,<br>
+And I could spend my winters all in Rome.<br>
+Love never more could touch my wasteful heart<br>
+That all its wealth upon one object spent.<br>
+Existence would be very bleak and cold,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 106]</span>After long years, when I was gray and old,<br>
+With neither home nor children.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Once a wife,<br>
+I would forget the sorrow of my life,<br>
+And pile new sods upon the grave of pain.<br>
+My mind so argued; and my sad heart heard,<br>
+But made no comment.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Then the Baron spoke,<br>
+And waited for my answer. All in vain<br>
+I strove for strength to utter that one word<br>
+My mind dictated. Moments rolled away&#8212;<br>
+Until at last my torpid heart awoke,<br>
+And forced my trembling lips to say him nay.<br>
+And then my eyes with sudden tears o'erran,<br>
+In pity for myself and for this man<br>
+Who stood before me, lost in pained surprise.<br>
+"Dear friend," I cried, "Dear generous friend forgive<br>
+A troubled woman's weakness! As I live,<br>
+In truth I meant to answer otherwise.<br>
+From out its store, my heart can give you naught<br>
+But honor and respect; and yet methought<br>
+I would give willing answer, did you sue.<br>
+But now I know 'twere cruel wrong I planned;<br>
+Taking a heart that beat with love most true,<br>
+And giving in exchange an empty hand.<br>
+Who weds for love alone, may not be wise:<br>
+Who weds without it, angels must despise.<br>
+Love and respect together must combine<br>
+To render marriage holy and divine;<br>
+And lack of either, sure as Fate, destroys<br>
+Continuation of the nuptial joys,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 107]</span>And brings regret, and gloomy discontent,<br>
+To put to rout each tender sentiment.<br>
+Nay, nay! I will not burden all your life<br>
+By that possession&#8212;an unloving wife;<br>
+Nor will I take the sin upon my soul<br>
+Of wedding where my heart goes not in whole.<br>
+However bleak may be my single lot,<br>
+I will not stain my life with such a blot.<br>
+Dear friend, farewell! the earth is very wide;<br>
+It holds some fairer woman for your bride;<br>
+I would I had a heart to give to you,<br>
+But, lacking it, can only say&#8212;adieu!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He whom temptation never has assailed,<br>
+Knows not that subtle sense of moral strength;<br>
+When sorely tried, we waver, but at length,<br>
+Rise up and turn away, not having failed.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<hr>
+
+<br>
+
+The Autumn of the third year came and went;<br>
+The mild Italian winter was half spent,<br>
+When this brief message came across the sea:<br>
+"My darling! I am dying. Come to me.<br>
+Love, which so long the growing truth concealed,<br>
+Stands pale within its shadow. O, my sweet!<br>
+This heart of mine grows fainter with each beat&#8212;<br>
+Dying with very weight of bliss. O, come!<br>
+And take the legacy I leave to you,<br>
+Before these lips forevermore are dumb.<br>
+In life or death, Yours, Helen Dangerfield."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 108]</span>This plaintive letter bore a month old date;<br>
+And, wild with fears lest I had come too late,<br>
+I bade the old world and new friends adieu.<br>
+And with Aunt Ruth, who long had sighed for home,<br>
+I turned my back on glory, art, and Rome.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+All selfish thoughts were merged in one wild fear<br>
+That she for whose dear sake my heart had bled,<br>
+Rather than her sweet eyes should know one tear,<br>
+Was passing from me; that she might be dead;<br>
+And, dying, had been sorely grieved with me,<br>
+Because I made no answer to her plea.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"O, ship, that sailest slowly, slowly on,<br>
+Make haste before a wasting life is gone!<br>
+Make haste that I may catch a fleeting breath!<br>
+And true in life, be true e'en unto death.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"O, ship, sail on! and bear me o'er the tide<br>
+To her for whom my woman's heart once died.<br>
+Sail, sail, O, ship! for she hath need of me,<br>
+And I would know what her last wish may be!<br>
+I have been true, so true, through all the past,<br>
+Sail, sail, O, ship! I would not fail at last."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So prayed my heart still o'er, and ever o'er,<br>
+Until the weary lagging ship reached shore.<br>
+All sad with fears that I had come too late,<br>
+By that strange source whence men communicate,<br>
+Though miles on miles of space between them lie,<br>
+I spoke with Vivian: "Does she live? Reply."<br>
+The answer came. "She lives, but hasten, friend!<br>
+Her journey draweth swiftly to its end."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 109]</span>Ah me! ah me! when each remembered spot,<br>
+My own dear home, the lane that led to his&#8212;<br>
+The fields, the woods, the lake, burst on my sight,<br>
+Oh! then, Self rose up in asserting might;<br>
+Oh, then, my bursting heart all else forgot,<br>
+But those sweet early years of lost delight,<br>
+Of hope, defeat, of anguish and of bliss.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I have a theory, vague, undefined,<br>
+That each emotion of the human mind,<br>
+Love, pain or passion, sorrow or despair,<br>
+Is a live spirit, dwelling in the air,<br>
+Until it takes possession of some breast;<br>
+And, when at length, grown weary of unrest,<br>
+We rise up strong and cast it from the heart,<br>
+And bid it leave us wholly, and depart,<br>
+It does not die, it cannot die; but goes<br>
+And mingles with some restless wind that blows<br>
+About the region where it had its birth.<br>
+And though we wander over all the earth,<br>
+That spirit waits, and lingers, year by year,<br>
+Invisible, and cloth&#232;d like the air,<br>
+Hoping that we may yet again draw near,<br>
+And it may haply take us unaware,<br>
+And once more find safe shelter in the breast<br>
+It stirred of old with pleasure or unrest.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Told by my heart, and wholly positive,<br>
+Some old emotion long had ceased to live;<br>
+That, were it called, it could not hear or come,<br>
+Because it was so voiceless and so dumb,<br>
+Yet, passing where it first sprang into life,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 110]</span>My very soul has suddenly been rife<br>
+With all the old intensity of feeling.<br>
+It seemed a living spirit, which came stealing<br>
+Into my heart from that departed day;<br>
+Exiled emotion, which I fancied clay.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So now into my troubled heart, above<br>
+The present's pain and sorrow, crept the love<br>
+And strife and passion of a by&#8209;gone hour,<br>
+Possessed of all their olden might and power.<br>
+'T was but a moment, and the spell was broken<br>
+By pleasant words of greeting, gently spoken,<br>
+And Vivian stood before us.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But I saw<br>
+In him the husband of my friend alone.<br>
+The old emotions might at times return,<br>
+And smold'ring fires leap up an hour and burn;<br>
+But never yet had I transgressed God's law,<br>
+By looking on the man I had resigned,<br>
+With any hidden feeling in my mind,<br>
+Which she, his wife, my friend, might not have known.<br>
+He was but little altered. From his face<br>
+The nonchalant and almost haughty grace,<br>
+The lurking laughter waiting in his eyes,<br>
+The years had stolen, leaving in their place<br>
+A settled sadness, which was not despair,<br>
+Nor was it gloom, nor weariness, nor care,<br>
+But something like the vapor o'er the skies<br>
+Of Indian summer, beautiful to see,<br>
+But spoke of frosts, which had been and would be.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 111]</span>There was that in his face which cometh not,<br>
+Save when the soul has many a battle fought,<br>
+And conquered self by constant sacrifice.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+There are two sculptors, who, with chisels fine,<br>
+Render the plainest features half divine.<br>
+All other artists strive and strive in vain,<br>
+To picture beauty perfect and complete.<br>
+Their statues only crumble at their feet,<br>
+Without the master touch of Faith and Pain.<br>
+And now his face, that perfect seemed before,<br>
+Chiseled by these two careful artists, wore<br>
+A look exalted, which the spirit gives<br>
+When soul has conquered, and the body lives<br>
+Subservient to its bidding.<br>
+<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In a room<br>
+Which curtained out the February gloom,<br>
+And, redolent with perfume, bright with flowers,<br>
+Rested the eye like one of Summer's bowers,<br>
+I found my Helen, who was less mine now<br>
+Than Death's; for on the marble of her brow,<br>
+His seal was stamped indelibly.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Her form<br>
+Was like the slendor willow, when some storm<br>
+Has stripped it bare of foliage. Her face,<br>
+Pale always, now was ghastly in its hue:<br>
+And, like two lamps, in some dark, hollow place,<br>
+Burned her large eyes, grown more intensely blue.<br>
+Her fragile hands displayed each cord and vein,<br>
+And on her mouth was that drawn look, of pain<br>
+Which is not uttered. Yet an inward light<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 112]</span>Shone through and made her wasted features bright<br>
+With an unearthly beauty; and an awe<br>
+Crept o'er me, gazing on her, for I saw<br>
+She was so near to Heaven that I seemed<br>
+To look upon the face of one redeemed.<br>
+She turned the brilliant luster of her eyes<br>
+Upon me. She had passed beyond surprise,<br>
+Or any strong emotion linked with clay.<br>
+But as I glided to her where she lay,<br>
+A smile, celestial in its sweetness, wreathed<br>
+Her pallid features. "Welcome home!" she breathed,<br>
+"Dear hands! dear lips! I touch you and rejoice."<br>
+And like the dying echo of a voice<br>
+Were her faint tones that thrilled upon my ear.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I fell upon my knees beside her bed;<br>
+All agonies within my heart were wed,<br>
+While to the aching numbness of my grief,<br>
+Mine eyes refused the solace of a tear,&#8212;<br>
+The tortured soul's most merciful relief.<br>
+Her wasted hand caressed my bended head<br>
+For one sad, sacred moment. Then she said,<br>
+In that low tone so like the wind's refrain,<br>
+"Maurine, my own! give not away to pain;<br>
+The time is precious. Ere another dawn<br>
+My soul may hear the summons and pass on.<br>
+Arise, sweet sister! rest a little while,<br>
+And when refreshed, come hither. I grow weak<br>
+With every hour that passes. I must speak<br>
+And make my dying wishes known to&#8209;night.<br>
+Go now." And in the halo of her smile,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 113]</span>Which seemed to fill the room with golden light,<br>
+I turned and left her.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Later in the gloom,<br>
+Of coming night, I entered that dim room,<br>
+And sat down by her. Vivian held her hand:<br>
+And on the pillow at her side, there smiled<br>
+The beauteous count'nance of a sleeping child.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Maurine," spoke Helen, "for three blissful years,<br>
+My heart has dwelt in an enchanted land;<br>
+And I have drank the sweetened cup of joy,<br>
+Without one drop of anguish or alloy.<br>
+And so, ere Pain embitters it with gall,<br>
+Or sad&#8209;eyed Sorrow fills it full of tears,<br>
+And bids me quaff, which is the Fate of all<br>
+Who linger long upon this troubled way,<br>
+God takes me to the realm of Endless Day,<br>
+To mingle with his angels, who alone<br>
+Can understand such bliss as I have known.<br>
+I do not murmur. God has heaped my measure,<br>
+In three short years, full to the brim with pleasure;<br>
+And, from the fullness of an earthly love,<br>
+I pass to th' Immortal arms above,<br>
+Before I even brush the skirts of Woe.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"I leave my aged parents here below,<br>
+With none to comfort them. Maurine, sweet friend!<br>
+Be kind to them, and love them to the end,<br>
+Which may not be far distant.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And I leave<br>
+A soul immortal in your charge, Maurine.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 114]</span>From this most holy, sad and sacred eve,<br>
+Till God shall claim her, she is yours to keep,<br>
+To love and shelter, to protect and guide."<br>
+She touched the slumb'ring cherub at her side,<br>
+And Vivian gently bore her, still asleep,<br>
+And laid the precious burden on my breast.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+A solemn silence fell upon the scene.<br>
+And when the sleeping infant smiled, and pressed<br>
+My yielding bosom with her waxen cheek,<br>
+I felt it would be sacrilege to speak,<br>
+Such wordless joy possessed me.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Oh! at last<br>
+This infant, who, in that tear&#8209;blotted past,<br>
+Had caused my soul such travail, was my own:<br>
+Through all the lonely coming years to be<br>
+Mine own to cherish&#8212;wholly mine alone.<br>
+And what I mourned, so hopelessly as lost<br>
+Was now restored, and given back to me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The dying voice continued:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"In this child<br>
+You yet have me, whose mortal life she cost.<br>
+But all that was most pure and undefiled,<br>
+And good within me, lives in her again.<br>
+Maurine, my husband loves me; yet I know,<br>
+Moving about the wide world, to and fro,<br>
+And through, and in the busy haunts of men,<br>
+Not always will his heart be dumb with woe,<br>
+But sometime waken to a later love.<br>
+Nay, Vivian, hush! my soul has passed above<br>
+All selfish feelings! I would have it so.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 115]</span>While I am with the angels, blest and glad,<br>
+I would not have you sorrowing and sad,<br>
+In loneliness go mourning to the end.<br>
+But, love! I could not trust to any other<br>
+The sacred office of a foster&#8209;mother<br>
+To this sweet cherub, save my own heart&#8209;friend.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Teach her to love her father's name, Maurine,<br>
+Where'er he wanders. Keep my memory green<br>
+In her young heart, and lead her in her youth,<br>
+To drink from th' eternal fount of Truth;<br>
+Vex her not with sectarian discourse,<br>
+Nor strive to teach her piety by force;<br>
+Ply not her mind with harsh and narrow creeds,<br>
+Nor frighten her with an avenging God,<br>
+Who rules his subjects with a burning rod;<br>
+But teach her that each mortal simply needs<br>
+To grow in hate of hate and love of love,<br>
+To gain a kingdom in the courts above.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Let her be free and natural as the flowers,<br>
+That smile and nod throughout the summer hours.<br>
+Let her rejoice in all the joys of youth,<br>
+But first impress upon her mind this truth:<br>
+No lasting happiness is e'er attained<br>
+Save when the heart some <i>other</i> seeks to please.<br>
+The cup of selfish pleasures soon is drained,<br>
+And full of gall and bitterness the lees.<br>
+Next to her God, teach her to love her land;<br>
+In her young bosom light the patriot's flame<br>
+Until the heart within her shall expand<br>
+With love and fervor at her country's name.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 116]</span>"No coward&#8209;mother bears a valiant son.<br>
+And this, my last wish, is an earnest one.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Maurine, my o'er&#8209;taxed strength is waning; you<br>
+Have heard my wishes, and you will be true<br>
+In death as you have been in life, my own!<br>
+Now leave me for a little while alone<br>
+With him&#8212;my husband. Dear love! I shall rest<br>
+So sweetly with no care upon my breast.<br>
+Good night, Maurine, come to me in the morning."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But lo! the bridegroom with no further warning<br>
+Came for her at the dawning of the day.<br>
+She heard his voice, and smiled, and passed away<br>
+Without a struggle.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Leaning o'er her bed<br>
+To give her greeting, I found but her clay,<br>
+And Vivian bowed beside it.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And I said,<br>
+"Dear friend! my soul shall treasure thy request,<br>
+And when the night of fever and unrest<br>
+Melts in the morning of Eternity,<br>
+Like a freed bird, then I will come to thee.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, sweet!<br>
+I have been true; and soul with soul shall meet<br>
+Before God's throne, and shall not be afraid.<br>
+Thou gav'st me trust, and it was not betrayed.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, dear!<br>
+The night is dark. I do not know how near<br>
+The morn may be of that Eternal Day;<br>
+I can but keep my faithful watch and pray.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 117]</span>"I will come to thee in the morning, love!<br>
+Wait for me on the Eternal Heights above.<br>
+The way is troubled where my feet must climb,<br>
+Ere I shall tread the mountain&#8209;top sublime.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"I will come in the morning, O, mine own!<br>
+But for a time must grope my way alone,<br>
+Through tears and sorrow, till the Day shall dawn,<br>
+And I shall hear the summons, and pass on.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"I will come in the morning. Rest secure!<br>
+My hope is certain and my faith is sure.<br>
+After the gloom and darkness of the night<br>
+I will come to thee with the morning light."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<hr>
+
+<br>
+
+Three peaceful years slipped silently away.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We dwelt together in my childhood's home,<br>
+Aunt Ruth and I, and sunny&#8209;hearted May.<br>
+She was a fair and most exquisite child;<br>
+Her pensive face was delicate and mild<br>
+Like her dead mother's; but through her dear eyes<br>
+Her father smiled upon me, day by day.<br>
+Afar in foreign countries did he roam,<br>
+Now resting under Italy's blue skies,<br>
+And now with Roy in Scotland.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And he sent<br>
+Brief, friendly letters, telling where he went<br>
+And what he saw, addressed to May or me.<br>
+And I would write and tell him how she grew&#8212;<br>
+And how she talked about him o'er the sea<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 118]</span>In her sweet baby fashion; how she knew<br>
+His picture in the album; how each day<br>
+She knelt and prayed the blessed Lord would bring<br>
+Her own papa back to his little May.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It was a warm bright morning in the Spring.<br>
+I sat in that same sunny portico,<br>
+Where I was sitting seven years ago<br>
+When Vivian came. My eyes were full of tears,<br>
+As I looked back across the checkered years.<br>
+How many were the changes they had brought!<br>
+Pain, death, and sorrow! but the lesson taught<br>
+To my young heart had been of untold worth.<br>
+I had learned how to "suffer and grow strong"&#8212;<br>
+That knowledge which best serves us here on earth,<br>
+And brings reward in Heaven.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Oh! how long<br>
+The years had been since that June morning when<br>
+I heard his step upon the walk, and yet<br>
+I seemed to hear its echo still.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Just then<br>
+Down that same path I turned my eyes, tear&#8209;wet,<br>
+And lo! the wanderer from a foreign land<br>
+Stood there before me!&#8212;holding out his hand<br>
+And smiling with those wond'rous eyes of old.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+To hide my tears, I ran and brought his child;<br>
+But she was shy, and clung to me, when told<br>
+This was papa, for whom her prayers were said.<br>
+She dropped her eyes and shook her little head,<br>
+And would not by his coaxing be beguiled,<br>
+Or go to him.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 119]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Aunt Ruth was not at home,<br>
+And we two sat and talked, as strangers might,<br>
+Of distant countries which we both had seen.<br>
+But once I thought I saw his large eyes light<br>
+With sudden passion, when there came a pause<br>
+In our chit&#8209;chat, and then he spoke:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Maurine,<br>
+I saw a number of your friends in Rome.<br>
+We talked of you. They seemed surprised, because<br>
+You were not 'mong the seekers for a name.<br>
+They thought your whole ambition was for fame."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"It might have been," I answered, "when my heart<br>
+Had nothing else to fill it. Now my art<br>
+Is but a recreation. I have <i>this</i><br>
+To love and live for, which I had not then."<br>
+And, leaning down, I pressed a tender kiss<br>
+Upon my child's fair brow.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"And yet," he said,<br>
+The old light leaping to his eyes again,<br>
+"And yet, Maurine, they say you might have wed<br>
+A noble Baron! one of many men<br>
+Who laid their hearts and fortunes at your feet.<br>
+Why won the bravest of them no return?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I bowed my head, nor dared his gaze to meet.<br>
+On cheek and brow I felt the red blood burn,<br>
+And strong emotion strangled speech.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He rose<br>
+And came and knelt beside me.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 120]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Sweet, my sweet!"<br>
+He murmured softly, "God in Heaven knows<br>
+How well I loved you seven years ago.<br>
+He only knows my anguish, and my grief,<br>
+When your own acts forced on me the belief<br>
+That I had been your plaything and your toy.<br>
+Yet from his lips I since have learned that Roy<br>
+Held no place nearer than a friend and brother.<br>
+And then a faint suspicion, undefined,<br>
+Of what had been&#8212;was&#8212;might be, stirred my mind,<br>
+And that great love, I thought died at a blow,<br>
+Rose up within me, strong with hope and life.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Before all heaven and the angel mother<br>
+Of this sweet child that slumbers on your heart,<br>
+Maurine, Maurine, I claim you for my wife&#8212;<br>
+Mine own, forever, until death shall part!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Through happy mists of upward welling tears,<br>
+I leaned, and looked into his beauteous eyes.<br>
+"Dear heart," I said, "if she who dwells above<br>
+Looks down upon us, from yon azure skies,<br>
+She can but bless us, knowing all these years<br>
+My soul had yearned in silence for the love<br>
+That crowned her life, and left mine own so bleak.<br>
+I turned you from me for her fair, frail sake.<br>
+For her sweet child's, and for my own, I take<br>
+You back to be all mine, for evermore."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 121]</span>Just then the child upon my breast awoke<br>
+From her light sleep, and laid her downy cheek<br>
+Against her father as he knelt by me.<br>
+And this unconscious action seemed to be<br>
+A silent blessing, which the mother spoke<br>
+Gazing upon us from the mystic shore.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="TWO_SUNSETS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 122]</span><h2>TWO SUNSETS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+In the fair morning of his life,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When his pure heart lay in his breast,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Panting, with all that wild unrest<br>
+To plunge into the great world's strife<br>
+
+<br>
+
+That fills young hearts with mad desire,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He saw a sunset. Red and gold<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The burning billows surged and rolled,<br>
+And upward tossed their caps of fire.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He looked. And as he looked, the sight<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Sent from his soul through breast and brain<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Such intense joy, it hurt like pain.<br>
+His heart seemed bursting with delight.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So near the Unknown seemed, so close<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He might have grasped it with his hand.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He felt his inmost soul expand,<br>
+As sunlight will expand a rose.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+One day he heard a singing strain&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A human voice, in bird&#8209;like trills.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He paused, and little rapture&#8209;rills<br>
+Went trickling downward through each vein.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And in his heart the whole day long,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As in a temple veiled and dim,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He kept and bore about with him<br>
+The beauty of that singer's song.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 123]</span>And then? But why relate what then?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;His smouldering heart flamed into fire&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He had his one supreme desire.<br>
+And plunged into the world of men.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+For years queen Folly held her sway.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With pleasures of the grosser kind<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She fed his flesh and drugged his mind,<br>
+Till, shamed, he sated turned away.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He sought his boyhood's home. That hour<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Triumphant should have been, in sooth,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Since he went forth an unknown youth,<br>
+And came back crowned with wealth and power.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The clouds made day a gorgeous bed;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He saw the splendor of the sky<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With unmoved heart and stolid eye;<br>
+He only knew the West was red.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then suddenly a fresh young voice<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Rose, bird&#8209;like, from some hidden place,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He did not even turn his face;<br>
+It struck him simply as a noise.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He trod the old paths up and down.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Their rich&#8209;hued leaves by Fall winds whirled&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How dull they were&#8212;how dull the world&#8212;<br>
+Dull even in the pulsing town.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+O! worst of punishments, that brings<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A blunting of all finer sense,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A loss of feelings keen, intense,<br>
+And dulls us to the higher things.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 124]</span>O! penalty most dire, most sure,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Swift following after gross delights,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That we no more see beauteous sights,<br>
+Or hear as hear the good and pure.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+O! shape more hideous and more dread<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than Vengeance takes in creed&#8209;taught minds,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;This certain doom that blunts and blinds,<br>
+And strikes the holiest feelings dead.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="UNREST"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>UNREST.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+In the youth of the year, when the birds were building,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When the green was showing on tree and hedge,<br>
+And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The world from zenith to outermost edge,<br>
+My soul grew sad and longingly lonely!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I sighed for the season of sun and rose,<br>
+And I said, "In the Summer and that time only<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lies sweet contentment and blest repose."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+With bee and bird for her maids of honor<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Came Princess Summer in robes of green.<br>
+And the King of day smiled down upon her<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen.<br>
+Fruit of their union and true love's pledges,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Beautiful roses bloomed day by day,<br>
+And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like royal children in sportive play.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 125]</span>My restless soul for a little season<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Reveled in rapture of glow and bloom,<br>
+And then, like a subject who harbors treason,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Grew full of rebellion and gray with gloom.<br>
+And I said, "I am sick of the Summer's blisses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of warmth and beauty, and nothing more.<br>
+The full fruition my sad soul misses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That beauteous Fall time holds in store!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But now when the colors are almost blinding,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Burning and blending on bush and tree,<br>
+And the rarest fruits are mine for the finding,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And the year is ripe as a year can be,<br>
+My soul complains in the same old fashion;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Crying aloud in my troubled breast<br>
+Is the same old longing, the same old passion.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;O where is the treasure which men call rest?<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="ARTISTS_LIFE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>"ARTIST'S LIFE."</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Mad with melody, rhythm&#8212;rife<br>
+From the very first to the final note,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Give me his "Artist's Life!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It stirs my blood to my finger ends,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest,<br>
+And all that is sweetest and saddest blends<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Together within my breast.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 126]</span>It brings back that night in the dim arcade,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In love's sweet morning and life's best prime.<br>
+When the great brass orchestra played and played.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And set our thoughts to rhyme.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It brings back that Winter of mad delights,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of leaping pulses and tripping feet,<br>
+And those languid moon&#8209;washed Summer nights<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When we heard the band in the street.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It brings back rapture and glee and glow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It brings back passion and pain and strife,<br>
+And so of all the waltzes I know,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Give me the "Artist's Life."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+For it is so full of the dear old time&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So full of the dear old friends I knew.<br>
+And under its rhythm, and lilt, and rhyme,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I am always finding&#8212;<i>you</i>.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="NOTHING_BUT_STONES"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>NOTHING BUT STONES.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I think I never passed so sad an hour,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Dear friend, as that one at the church to&#8209;night.<br>
+The edifice from basement to the tower<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Was one resplendent blaze of colored light.<br>
+Up through broad aisles the stylish crowd was thronging,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Each richly robed like some king's bidden guest.<br>
+"Here will I bring my sorrow and my longing,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I said, "and here find rest."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 127]</span>I heard the heavenly organ's voice of thunder,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It seemed to give me infinite relief.<br>
+I wept. Strange eyes looked on in well&#8209;bred wonder.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I dried my tears: their gaze profaned my grief.<br>
+Wrapt in the costly furs, and silks and laces<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Beat alien hearts, that had no part with me.<br>
+I could not read, in all those proud cold faces,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;One thought of sympathy.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I watched them bowing and devoutly kneeling,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Heard their responses like sweet waters roll.<br>
+But only the glorious organ's sacred pealing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Seemed gushing from a full and fervent soul.<br>
+I listened to the man of holy calling,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He spoke of creeds, and hailed his own as best;<br>
+Of man's corruption and of Adam's falling,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But naught that gave me rest.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Nothing that helped me bear the daily grinding<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of soul with body, heart with heated brain.<br>
+Nothing to show the purpose of this blinding<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And sometimes overwhelming sense of pain.<br>
+And then, dear friend, I thought of thee, so lowly,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So unassuming, and so gently kind,<br>
+And lo! a peace, a calm serene and holy,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Settled upon my mind.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Ah, friend, my friend! one true heart, fond and tender,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That understands our troubles and our needs,<br>
+Brings us more near to God than all the splendor<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 128]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;And pomp of seeming worship and vain creeds.<br>
+One glance of thy dear eyes so full of feeling,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Doth bring me closer to the Infinite,<br>
+Than all that throng of worldly people kneeling<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In blaze of gorgeous light.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_COQUETTE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE COQUETTE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Alone she sat with her accusing heart,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That, like a restless comrade frightened sleep,<br>
+And every thought that found her, left a dart<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That hurt her so, she could not even weep.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Her heart that once had been a cup well filled<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With love's red wine, save for some drops of gall<br>
+She knew was empty; though it had not spilled<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Its sweets for one, but wasted them on all.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+She stood upon the grave of her dead truth,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And saw her soul's bright armor red with rust,<br>
+And knew that all the riches of her youth<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Were Dead Sea apples, crumbling into dust.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Love that had turned to bitter, biting scorn,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hearthstones despoiled, and homes made desolate,<br>
+Made her cry out that she was ever born,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To loathe her beauty and to curse her fate.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="INEVITABLE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 129]</span><h2>INEVITABLE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+To&#8209;day I was so weary and I lay<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In that delicious state of semi&#8209;waking,<br>
+When baby, sitting with his nurse at play,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Cried loud for "mamma," all his toys forsaking.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I was so weary and I needed rest,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And signed to nurse to bear him from the room.<br>
+Then, sudden, rose and caught him to my breast,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And kissed the grieving mouth and cheeks of bloom.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+For swift as lightning came the thought to me,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With pulsing heart&#8209;throes and a mist of tears,<br>
+Of days inevitable, that are to be,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;If my fair darling grows to manhood's years;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Days when he will not call for "mamma," when<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The world with many a pleasure and bright joy,<br>
+Shall tempt him forth into the haunts of men<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And I shall lose the first place with my boy;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+When other homes and loves shall give delight,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When younger smiles and voices will seem best.<br>
+And so I held him to my heart to&#8209;night,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Forgetting all my need of peace and rest.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 130]</span><a name="THE_OCEAN_OF_SONG"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE OCEAN OF SONG</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+In a land beyond sight or conceiving,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In a land where no blight is, no wrong,<br>
+No darkness, no graves, and no grieving,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There lies the great ocean of song.<br>
+And its waves, oh, its waves unbeholden<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By any save gods, and their kind,<br>
+Are not blue, are not green, but are golden,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like moonlight and sunlight combined.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It was whispered to me that their waters<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Were made from the gathered&#8209;up tears,<br>
+That were wept by the sons and the daughters<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of long&#8209;vanished eras and spheres.<br>
+Like white sands of heaven the spray is<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That falls all the happy day long,<br>
+And whoever it touches straightway is<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Made glad with the spirit of song.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Up, up to the clouds where their hoary<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Crowned heads melt away in the skies,<br>
+The beautiful mountains of glory<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Each side of the song ocean rise.<br>
+Here day is one splendor of sky light<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of God's light with beauty replete.<br>
+Here night is not night, but is twilight,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Pervading, enfolding and sweet.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 131]</span>Bright birds from all climes and all regions<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That sing the whole glad summer long,<br>
+Are dumb, till they flock here in legions<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And lave in the ocean of song.<br>
+It is here that the four winds of heaven,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The winds that do sing and rejoice,<br>
+It is here they first came and were given<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The secret of sound and a voice.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Far down along beautiful beeches,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By night and by glorious day,<br>
+The throng of the gifted ones reaches,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Their foreheads made white with the spray.<br>
+And a few of the sons and the daughters<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of this kingdom, cloud&#8209;hidden from sight,<br>
+Go down in the wonderful waters,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And bathe in those billows of light<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And their souls ever more are like fountains,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And liquid and lucent and strong,<br>
+High over the tops of the mountains<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Gush up the sweet billows of song.<br>
+No drouth&#8209;time of waters can dry them.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Whoever has bathed in that sea,<br>
+All dangers, all deaths, they defy them,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And are gladder than gods are, with glee.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="IT_MIGHT_HAVE_BEEN"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 132]</span><h2>"IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN."</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+We will be what we could be. Do not say,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"It might have been, had not or that, or this."<br>
+No fate can keep us from the chosen way;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He only might, who <i>is</i>.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We will do what we could do. Do not dream<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.<br>
+I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He does, who could achieve.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We will climb where we could climb. Tell me not<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.<br>
+What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He always climbs who might.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I do not like the phrase, "It might have been!"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It lacks all force, and life's best truths perverts:<br>
+For I believe we have, and reach, and win,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Whatever our deserts.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="IF"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>IF.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Dear love, if you and I could sail away,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled,<br>
+Across the waters of some unknown bay,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And find some island far from all the world;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 133]</span>If we could dwell there, ever more alone,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;While unrecorded years slip by apace,<br>
+Forgetting and forgotten and unknown<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By aught save native song&#8209;birds of the place;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+If Winter never visited that land,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And Summer's lap spilled o'er with fruits and flowers,<br>
+And tropic trees cast shade on every hand,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And twin&#232;d boughs formed sleep&#8209;inviting bowers;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+If from the fashions of the world set free,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And hid away from all its jealous strife,<br>
+I lived alone for you, and you for me&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Ah! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But since we dwell here in the crowded way,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold,<br>
+And all is common&#8209;place and work&#8209;a&#8209;day,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As soon as love's young honeymoon grows old;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Since fashion rules and nature yields to art,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And life is hurt by daily jar and fret,<br>
+'Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And go our ways alone, love, and forget.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="GETHSEMANE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 134]</span><h2>GETHSEMANE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+In golden youth when seems the earth<br>
+A Summer&#8209;land of singing mirth,<br>
+When souls are glad and hearts are light,<br>
+And not a shadow lurks in sight,<br>
+We do not know it, but there lies<br>
+Somewhere veiled under evening skies<br>
+A garden which we all must see&#8212;<br>
+The garden of Gethsemane.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+With joyous steps we go our ways,<br>
+Love lends a halo to our days;<br>
+Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,<br>
+We laugh, and say how strong we are.<br>
+We hurry on; and hurrying, go<br>
+Close to the border&#8209;land of woe,<br>
+That waits for you, and waits for me&#8212;<br>
+Forever waits Gethsemane.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams<br>
+Bridged over by our broken dreams;<br>
+Behind the misty caps of years,<br>
+Beyond the great salt fount of tears,<br>
+The garden lies. Strive as you may,<br>
+You cannot miss it in your way.<br>
+All paths that have been, or shall be,<br>
+Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 135]</span>All those who journey, soon or late,<br>
+Must pass within the garden's gate;<br>
+Must kneel alone in darkness there,<br>
+And battle with some fierce despair.<br>
+God pity those who can not say,<br>
+"Not mine but thine," who only pray,<br>
+"Let this cup pass," and cannot see<br>
+The <i>purpose</i> in Gethsemane.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="DUST-SEALED"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>DUST&#8209;SEALED.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I know not wherefore, but mine eyes<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;See bloom, where other eyes see blight.<br>
+They find a rainbow, a sunrise,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where others but discern deep night.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Men call me an enthusiast,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And say I look through gilded haze:<br>
+Because where'er my gaze is cast,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I see some thing that calls for praise.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I say, "Behold those lovely eyes&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That tinted cheek of flower&#8209;like grace."<br>
+They answer in amused surprise:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"We thought it such a common face."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I say, "Was ever scene more fair?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I seem to walk in Eden's bowers."<br>
+They answer with a pitying air,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"The weeds are choking out the flowers."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 136]</span>I know not wherefore, but God lent<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A deeper vision to my sight.<br>
+On whatsoe'er my gaze is bent<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I catch the beauty Infinite;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+That underlying, hidden half<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That all things hold of Deity.<br>
+So let the dull crowd sneer and laugh&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Their eyes are blind, they cannot see.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="ADVICE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>"ADVICE."</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I must do as you do? Your way I own<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Is a very good way. And still,<br>
+There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;One over, one under the hill.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+You are treading the safe and the well&#8209;worn way,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That the prudent choose each time;<br>
+And you think me reckless and rash to&#8209;day,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Because I prefer to climb.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Your path is the right one, and so is mine.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We are not like peas in a pod,<br>
+Compelled to lie in a certain line,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or else be scattered abroad.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+'Twere a dull old world, methinks, my friend,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;If we all went just one way;<br>
+Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Though they lead apart to&#8209;day.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 137]</span>You like the shade, and I like the sun;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;You like an even pace,<br>
+I like to mix with the crowd and run,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And then rest after the race.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I like danger, and storm and strife,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;You like a peaceful time;<br>
+I like the passion and surge of life,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;You like its gentle rhyme.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+You like buttercups, dewy sweet,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And crocuses, framed in snow;<br>
+I like roses, born of the heat,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And the red carnation's glow.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I must live my life, not yours, my friend,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For so it was written down;<br>
+We must follow our given paths to the end,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But I trust we shall meet&#8212;in town.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="OVER_THE_BANISTERS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>OVER THE BANISTERS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Over the banisters bends a face,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Daringly sweet and beguiling.<br>
+Somebody stands in careless grace,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And watches the picture, smiling.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The light burns dim in the hall below,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Nobody sees her standing,<br>
+Saying good&#8209;night again, soft and slow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Half way up to the landing.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 138]</span>Nobody only the eyes of brown,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Tender and full of meaning,<br>
+That smile on the fairest face in town,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Over the banisters leaning.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Tired and sleepy, with drooping head,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I wonder why she lingers;<br>
+Now, when the good&#8209;nights all are said,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Why somebody holds her fingers.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He holds her fingers and draws her down,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Suddenly growing bolder,<br>
+Till the loose hair drops its masses brown<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like a mantle over his shoulder.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Over the banisters soft hands, fair,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Brush his cheeks like a feather,<br>
+And bright brown tresses and dusky hair,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Meet and mingle together.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+There's a question asked, there's a swift caress,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She has flown like a bird from the hallway,<br>
+But over the banisters drops a "yes,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That shall brighten the world for him alway.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="MOMUS_GOD_OF_LAUGHTER"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2> MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Though with gods the world is cumbered,<br>
+Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,<br>
+Never god was known to be<br>
+Who had not his devotee.<br>
+So I dedicate to mine,<br>
+Here in verse, my temple&#8209;shrine.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 139]</span>'Tis not Ares,&#8212;mighty Mars,<br>
+Who can give success in wars.<br>
+'Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep<br>
+Guard above us while we sleep,<br>
+'Tis not Venus, she whose duty<br>
+'Tis to give us love and beauty;<br>
+Hail to these, and others, after<br>
+Momus, gleesome god of laughter.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Quirinus would guard my health!<br>
+Plutus would insure me wealth<br>
+Mercury looks after trade,<br>
+Hera smiles on youth and maid.<br>
+All are kind, I own their worth,<br>
+After Momus, god of mirth.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Though Apollo, out of spite,<br>
+Hides away his face of light.<br>
+Though Minerva looks askance,<br>
+Deigning me no smiling glance,<br>
+Kings and queens may envy me<br>
+While I claim the god of glee.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Wisdom wearies, Love has wings&#8212;<br>
+Wealth makes burdens, Pleasure stings,<br>
+Glory proves a thorny crown&#8212;<br>
+So all gifts the gods throw down<br>
+Bring their pains and troubles after;<br>
+All save Momus, god of laughter.<br>
+He alone gives constant joy,<br>
+Hail to Momus, happy boy.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="I_DREAM"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 140]</span><h2> I DREAM.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Oh, I have dreams. I sometimes dream of Life<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In the full meaning of that splendid word.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Its subtle music which few men have heard,<br>
+Though all may hear it, sounding through earth's strife.<br>
+Its mountain heights by mystic breezes kissed,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lifting their lovely peaks above the dust;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Its treasures which no touch of time can rust,<br>
+Its emerald seas, its dawns of amethyst,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Its certain purpose, its serene repose,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Its usefulness, that finds no hour for woes,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;This is my dream of Life.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Yes, I have dreams. I ofttimes dream of Love<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As radiant and brilliant as a star.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As changeless, too, as that fixed light afar<br>
+Which glorifies vast worlds of space above.<br>
+Strong as the tempest when it holds its breath,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Before it bursts in fury; and as deep<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As the unfathomed seas, where lost worlds sleep<br>
+And sad as birth, and beautiful as death.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As fervent as the fondest soul could crave,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Yet holy as the moonlight on a grave.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;This is my dream of Love.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Yes, yes, I dream. One oft&#8209;recurring dream,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Is beautiful and comforting and blest.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Complete with certain promises of rest.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 141]</span>Divine content, and ecstasy supreme.<br>
+When that strange essence, author of all faith,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That subtle something, which cries for the light,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like a lost child who wanders in the night,<br>
+Shall solve the mighty mystery of Death,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Shall find eternal progress, or sublime<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And satisfying slumber for all time.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;This is my dream of Death.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_PAST"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE PAST.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I fling my past behind me, like a robe<br>
+Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.<br>
+I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep<br>
+And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes<br>
+Of Oriental splendor, or complain<br>
+That I must needs discard it? I can weave<br>
+Upon the shuttles of the future years<br>
+A fabric far more durable. Subdued,<br>
+It may be, in the blending of its hues,<br>
+Where somber shades commingle, yet the gleam<br>
+Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through,<br>
+While over all a fadeless luster lies,<br>
+And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears,<br>
+My new robe shall be richer than the old.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_SONNET"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 142]</span><h2>THE SONNET.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Alone it stands in Poesy's fair land,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A temple by the muses set apart;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A perfect structure of consummate art,<br>
+By artists builded and by genius planned.<br>
+Beyond the reach of the apprentice hand,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Beyond the ken of the untutored heart,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like a fine carving in a common mart,<br>
+Only the favored few will understand.<br>
+A <i>chef&#8209;d'&#339;uvre</i> toiled over with great care,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Yet which the unseeing careless crowd goes by,<br>
+A plainly set, but well&#8209;cut solitaire,<br>
+An ancient bit of pottery, too rare<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To please or hold aught save the special eye,<br>
+These only with the sonnet can compare.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="SECRETS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>SECRETS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We one by one, with our expiring breath,<br>
+Do pale with wonder seize and make our own;<br>
+The bosomed treasures of the earth are shown,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Despite her careful hiding; and the air<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Yields its mysterious marvels in despair<br>
+To swell the mighty store&#8209;house of things known.<br>
+In vain the sea expostulates and raves;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 143]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;It cannot cover from the keen world's sight<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The curious wonders of its coral caves.<br>
+And so, despite thy caution or thy tears,<br>
+The prying fingers of detective years<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Shall drag <i>thy</i> secret out into the light.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="A_DREAM"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>A DREAM.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+That was a curious dream; I thought the three<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Great planets that are drawing near the sun<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With such unerring certainty, begun<br>
+To talk together in a mighty glee.<br>
+They spoke of vast convulsions which would be<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Throughout the solar system&#8212;the rare fun<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of watching haughty stars drop, one by one,<br>
+And vanish in a seething vapor sea.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I thought I heard them comment on the earth&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That small dark object&#8212;doomed beyond a doubt.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;They wondered if live creatures moved about<br>
+Its tiny surface, deeming it of worth.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And then they laughed&#8212;'twas such a ringing shout<br>
+That I awoke and joined too in their mirth.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="USELESSNESS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>USELESSNESS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Let mine not be that saddest fate of all<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To live beyond my greater self; to see<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;My faculties decaying, as the tree<br>
+Stands stark and helpless while its green leaves fall.<br>
+Let me hear rather the imperious call,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Which all men dread, in my glad morning time,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 144]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;And follow death ere I have reached my prime,<br>
+Or drunk the strengthening cordial of life's gall.<br>
+The lightning's stroke or the fierce tempest blast<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Which fells the green tree to the earth to&#8209;day<br>
+Is kinder than the calm that lets it last,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Unhappy witness of its own decay.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;May no man ever look on me and say,<br>
+"She lives, but all her usefulness is past."<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="WILL"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>WILL</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+There is no chance, no destiny, no fate,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Can circumvent or hinder or control<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The firm resolve of a determined soul.<br>
+Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;<br>
+All things give way before it, soon or late.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;What obstacle can stay the mighty force<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of the sea&#8209;seeking river in its course,<br>
+Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Each well&#8209;born soul must win what it deserves.<br>
+Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Whose slightest action or inaction serves<br>
+The one great aim.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Why, even Death stands still,<br>
+And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="WINTER_RAIN"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 145]</span><h2>WINTER RAIN.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Falling upon the frozen world last night,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Poor foolish drops, down&#8209;dripping all in vain;<br>
+The ice&#8209;bound Earth but mocked their puny might,<br>
+Far better had the fixedness of white<br>
+And uncomplaining snows&#8212;which make no sign,<br>
+But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine&#8212;<br>
+Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.<br>
+Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Though sinewy Fate deals her most skillful blow,<br>
+I do not waste the gall now of my tears,<br>
+But feed my pride upon its bitter, while<br>
+I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="APPLAUSE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>APPLAUSE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I hold it one of the sad certain laws<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Which makes our failures sometimes seem more kind<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than that success which brings sure loss behind&#8212;<br>
+True greatness dies, when sounds the world's applause<br>
+Fame blights the object it would bless, because<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Weighed down with men's expectancy, the mind<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Can no more soar to those far heights, and find<br>
+That freedom which its inspiration was.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 146]</span>When once we listen to its noisy cheers<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or hear the populace' approval, then<br>
+We catch no more the music of the spheres,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or walk with gods, and angels, but with men.<br>
+Till, impotent from our self&#8209;conscious fears,<br>
+The plaudits of the world turn into sneers.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LIFE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LIFE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Life, like a romping schoolboy, full of glee,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Doth bear us on his shoulders for a time.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There is no path too steep for him to climb,<br>
+With strong, lithe limbs, as agile and as free,<br>
+As some young roe, he speeds by vale and sea,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By flowery mead, by mountain peak sublime,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And all the world seems motion set to rhyme,<br>
+Till, tired out, he cries, "Now carry me!"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In vain we murmur, "Come," Life says, "fair play!"<br>
+And seizes on us. God! he goads us so!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He does not let us sit down all the day.<br>
+At each new step we feel the burden grow,<br>
+Till our bent backs seem breaking as we go,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Watching for Death to meet us on the way.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="BURDENED"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>BURDENED.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+<small>"Genius, a man's weapon, a woman's burden."&#8212;<i>Lamartine.</i></small><br>
+
+<br>
+
+Dear God! there is no sadder fate in life,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than to be burdened so that you can not<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Sit down contented with the common lot<br>
+Of happy mother and devoted wife.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 147]</span>To feel your brain wild and your bosom rife<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With all the sea's commotion; to be fraught<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With fires and frenzies which you have not sought,<br>
+And weighed down with the wide world's weary strife.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+To feel a fever alway in your breast,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To lean and hear half in affright, half shame.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A loud&#8209;voiced public boldly mouth your name,<br>
+To reap your hard&#8209;sown harvest in unrest,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And know, however great your meed of fame,<br>
+You are but a weak woman at the best.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_STORY"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE STORY.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+They met each other in the glade&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She lifted up her eyes;<br>
+Alack the day! Alack the maid!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She blushed in swift surprise.<br>
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The pail was full, the path was steep&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He reached to her his hand;<br>
+She felt her warm young pulses leap,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But did not understand.<br>
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 148]</span>She sat beside him in the wood&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He wooed with words and sighs;<br>
+Ah! love in spring seems sweet and good,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And maidens are not wise.<br>
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers' sighs.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The summer sun shone fairly down,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The wind blew from the south;<br>
+As blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;His kiss fell on her mouth.<br>
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And now the autumn time is near,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The lover roves away,<br>
+With breaking heart and falling tear,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She sits the livelong day.<br>
+Alas! alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LET_THEM_GO"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LET THEM GO.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight<br>
+That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And shoot the shadows through and through with light?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;What matters one lost vision of the night?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let the dream go!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 149]</span>Let the hope set. Are there not other hopes<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That yet shall rise like new stars in thy sky?<br>
+Not long a soul in sullen darkness gropes<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Before some light is lent it from on high;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;What folly to think happiness gone by!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let the hope set!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Let the joy fade. Are there not other joys,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like frost&#8209;bound bulbs, that yet shall start and bloom?<br>
+Severe must be the winter that destroys<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The hardy roots locked in their silent tomb.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;What cares the earth for her brief time of gloom?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let the joy fade!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Let the love die. Are there not other loves<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As beautiful and full of sweet unrest,<br>
+Flying through space like snowy&#8209;pinioned doves?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;They yet shall come and nestle in thy breast,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And thou shalt say of each, "Lo, this is best!"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let the love die!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_ENGINE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE ENGINE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Into the gloom of the deep, dark night,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With panting breath and a startled scream;<br>
+Swift as a bird in sudden flight<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Darts this creature of steel and steam.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Awful dangers are lurking nigh,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Rocks and chasms are near the track,<br>
+But straight by the light of its great white eye<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It speeds through the shadows, dense and black.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 150]</span>Terrible thoughts and fierce desires<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Trouble its mad heart many an hour,<br>
+Where burn and smoulder the hidden fires,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Coupled ever with might and power.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It hates, as a wild horse hates the rein,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The narrow track by vale and hill;<br>
+And shrieks with a cry of startled pain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And longs to follow its own wild will.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Oh, what am I but an engine, shod<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With muscle and flesh, by the hand of God,<br>
+Speeding on through the dense, dark night,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Guided alone by the soul's white light.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Often and often my mad heart tires,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And hates its way with a bitter hate,<br>
+And longs to follow its own desires,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And leave the end in the hand of fate.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+O mighty engine of steel and steam;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;O human engine of blood and bone,<br>
+Follow the white light's certain beam&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There lies safety and there alone.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The narrow track of fearless truth,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lit by the soul's great eye of light,<br>
+O passionate heart of restless youth,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Alone will carry you through the night.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="NOTHING_NEW"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 151]</span><h2>NOTHING NEW.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+From the dawn of spring till the year grows hoary,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Nothing is new that is done or said,<br>
+The leaves are telling the same old story&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Budding, bursting, dying, dead."<br>
+And ever and always the wild bird's chorus<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Is "coming, building, flying, fled."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Never the round earth roams or ranges<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Out of her circuit, so old, so old,<br>
+And the smile o' the sun knows but these changes&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Beaming, burning, tender, cold,<br>
+As Spring time softens or Winter estranges<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The mighty heart of this orb of gold.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+From our great sire's birth to the last morn's breaking<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There were tempest, sunshine, fruit and frost,<br>
+And the sea was calm or the sea was shaking<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;His mighty main like a lion crossed,<br>
+And ever this cry the heart was making&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Longing, loving, losing, lost.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Forever the wild wind wanders, crying,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Southerly, easterly, north and west,<br>
+And one worn song the fields are sighing,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Sowing, growing, harvest, rest,"<br>
+And the tired thought of the world, replying<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like an echo to what is last and best,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Murmurs&#8212;"Rest."<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="DREAMS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 152]</span><h2>DREAMS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Thank God for dreams! I, desolate and lone,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In the dark curtained night, did seem to be<br>
+The centre where all golden sun&#8209;rays shone,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And, sitting there, held converse sweet with thee.<br>
+No shadow lurked between us; all was bright<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And beautiful as in the hours gone by,<br>
+I smiled, and was rewarded by the light<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of olden days soft beaming from thine eye.<br>
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I thought the birds all listened; for thy voice<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Pulsed through the air, like beat of silver wings.<br>
+It made each chamber of my soul rejoice<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And thrilled along my heart's tear&#8209;rusted strings.<br>
+As some devout and ever&#8209;prayerful nun<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Tells her bright beads, and counts them o'er and o'er,<br>
+Thy golden words I gathered, one by one,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And slipped them into memory's precious store.<br>
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+My lips met thine in one ecstatic kiss.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hand pressed in hand, and heart to heart we sat.<br>
+Why even now I am surcharged with bliss&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With joy supreme, if I but think of that.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 153]</span>No fear of separation or of change<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Crept in to mar our sweet serene content.<br>
+In that blest vision, nothing could estrange<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Our wedded souls, in perfect union blent.<br>
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Thank God for dreams! when nothing else is left.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When the sick soul, all tortured with its pain,<br>
+Knowing itself forever more bereft,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Finds waiting hopeless and all watching vain,<br>
+When empty arms grow rigid with their ache,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When eyes are blinded with sad tides of tears,<br>
+When stricken hearts do suffer, yet not break,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For loss of those who come not with the years&#8212;<br>
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="HELENA"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>HELENA.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Last night I saw Helena. She whose praise<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of late all men have sounded. She for whom<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb<br>
+Rather than live without her all his days.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Wise men go mad who look upon her long,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She is so ripe with dangers. Yet meanwhile<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I find no fascination in her smile,<br>
+Although I make her theme of this poor song.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Her golden tresses?" yes, they may be fair,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And yet to me each shining silken tress<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Seems robbed of beauty and all lusterless&#8212;<br>
+Too many hands have stroked Helena's hair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 154]</span>(I know a little maiden so demure<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She will not let her one true lover's hands<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands,<br>
+So dainty&#8209;minded is she, and so pure.)<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Her great dark eyes that flash like gems at night?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Large, long&#8209;lashed eyes and lustrous?" that may be,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And yet they are not beautiful to me.<br>
+Too many hearts have sunned in their delight.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+(I mind me of two tender blue eyes, hid<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So underneath white curtains, and so veiled<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That I have sometimes plead for hours, and failed<br>
+To see more than the shyly lifted lid.)<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Her perfect mouth so like a carv&#232;d kiss?"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Her honeyed mouth, where hearts do, fly&#8209;like, drown?"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I would not taste its sweetness for a crown;<br>
+Too many lips have drank its nectared bliss.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+(I know a mouth whose virgin dew, undried,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lies like a young grape's bloom, untouched and sweet,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And though I plead in passion at her feet,<br>
+She would not let me brush it if I died.)<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In vain, Helena! though wise men may vie<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For thy rare smile or die from loss of it,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Armored by my sweet lady's trust, I sit,<br>
+And know thou art not worth her faintest sigh.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="NOTHING_REMAINS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 155]</span><h2>NOTHING REMAINS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Nothing remains of unrecorded ages<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That lie in the silent cemetery of time;<br>
+Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Their glory may have been indeed sublime.<br>
+How weak do seem our strivings after power,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How poor the grandest efforts of our brains,<br>
+If out of all we are, in one short hour<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Nothing remains.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Spaces,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Time and decay uproot the forest trees.<br>
+Even the mighty mountains leave their places,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And sink their haughty heads beneath strange seas;<br>
+The great earth writhes in some convulsive spasm<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And turns the proudest cities into plains.<br>
+The level sea becomes a yawning chasm&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Nothing remains.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Forces,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The sad seas cease complaining and grow dry;<br>
+Rivers are drained and altered in their courses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Great stars pass out and vanish from the sky.<br>
+Ideas die and old religions perish,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Our rarest pleasures and our keenest pains<br>
+Are swept away with all we hate or cherish&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Nothing remains.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 156]</span>Nothing remains but the Eternal Nameless<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And all&#8209;creative spirit of the Law,<br>
+Uncomprehended, comprehensive, blameless,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Invincible, resistless, with no flaw;<br>
+So full of love it must create forever,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Destroying that it may create again<br>
+Persistent and perfecting in endeavor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It yet must bring forth angels, after men&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;This, this remains.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LEAN_DOWN"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LEAN DOWN.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Lean down and lift me higher, Josephine!<br>
+From the Eternal Hills hast thou not seen<br>
+How I do strive for heights? but lacking wings,<br>
+I cannot grasp at once those better things<br>
+To which I in my inmost soul aspire.<br>
+Lean down and lift me higher.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I grope along&#8212;not desolate or sad,<br>
+For youth and hope and health all keep me glad;<br>
+But too bright sunlight, sometimes, makes us blind,<br>
+And I do grope for heights I cannot find.<br>
+Oh, thou must know my one supreme desire&#8212;<br>
+Lean down and lift me higher.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Not long ago we trod the self&#8209;same way.<br>
+Thou knowest how, from day to fleeting day<br>
+Our souls were vexed with trifles, and our feet,<br>
+Were lured aside to by&#8209;paths which seemed sweet,<br>
+But only served to hinder and to tire;<br>
+Lean down and lift me higher.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 157]</span>Thou hast gone onward to the heights serene,<br>
+And left me here, my loved one, Josephine;<br>
+I am content to stay until the end,<br>
+For life is full of promise; but, my friend,<br>
+Canst thou not help me in my best desire<br>
+And lean, and lift me higher?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Frail as thou wert, thou hast grown strong and wise,<br>
+And quick to understand and sympathize<br>
+With all a full soul's needs. It must be so,<br>
+Thy year with God hath made thee great I know.<br>
+Thou must see how I struggle and aspire&#8212;<br>
+Oh, warm me with a breath of heavenly fire,<br>
+And lean, and lift me higher.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="COMRADES"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>COMRADES.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I and my Soul are alone to&#8209;day,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;All in the shining weather;<br>
+We were sick of the world, and we put it away,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So we could rejoice together.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Is mixing a rare, sweet wine,<br>
+In the burnished gold of his cup on high,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For me, and this Soul of mine.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We find it a safe and royal drink,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And a cure for every pain;<br>
+It helps us to love, and helps us to think,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And strengthens body and brain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 158]</span>And sitting here, with my Soul alone,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where the yellow sun&#8209;rays fall,<br>
+Of all the friends I have ever known<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I find it the <i>best</i> of all.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We rarely meet when the World is near,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For the World hath a pleasing art<br>
+And brings me so much that is bright and dear<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That my Soul it keepeth apart.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But when I grow weary of mirth and glee,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of glitter, and glow, and splendor,<br>
+Like a tried old friend it comes to me,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With a smile that is sad and tender.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And we walk together as two friends may,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And laugh, and drink God's wine.<br>
+Oh, a royal comrade any day<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I find this Soul of mine.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="WHAT_GAIN"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>WHAT GAIN?</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Now, while thy rounded cheek is fresh and fair,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;While beauty lingers, laughing, in thine eyes,<br>
+Ere thy young heart shall meet the stranger, "Care,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or thy blithe soul become the home of sighs,<br>
+Were it not kindness should I give thee rest<br>
+By plunging this sharp dagger in thy breast?<br>
+Dying so young, with all thy wealth of youth,<br>
+What part of life wouldst thou not claim, in sooth?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Only the woe,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Sweetheart, that sad souls know.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 159]</span>Now, in this sacred hour of supreme trust,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of pure delight and palpitating joy,<br>
+Ere change can come, as come it surely must,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With jarring doubts and discords, to destroy<br>
+Our far too perfect peace, I pray thee, Sweet,<br>
+Were it not best for both of us, and meet,<br>
+If I should bring swift death to seal our bliss?<br>
+Dying so full of joy, what could we miss?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Nothing but tears,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Sweetheart, and weary years.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+How slight the action! Just one well&#8209;aimed blow<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Here where I feel thy warm heart's pulsing beat,<br>
+And then another through my own, and so<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Our perfect union would be made complete:<br>
+So past all parting, I should claim thee mine.<br>
+Dead with our youth, and faith, and love divine,<br>
+Should we not keep the best of life that way?<br>
+What shall we gain by living day on day?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;What shall we gain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Sweetheart, but bitter pain?<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LIFE2"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LIFE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I feel the great immensity of life.<br>
+All little aims slip from me, and I reach<br>
+My yearning soul toward the Infinite.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As when a mighty forest, whose green leaves<br>
+Have shut it in, and made it seem a bower<br>
+For lovers' secrets, or for children's sports,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 160]</span>Casts all its clustering foliage to the winds,<br>
+And lets the eye behold it, limitless,<br>
+And full of winding mysteries of ways:<br>
+So now with life that reaches out before,<br>
+And borders on the unexplained Beyond.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I see the stars above me, world on world:<br>
+I hear the awful language of all Space;<br>
+I feel the distant surging of great seas,<br>
+That hide the secrets of the Universe<br>
+In their eternal bosoms; and I know<br>
+That I am but an atom of the Whole.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="TO_THE_WEST"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>TO THE WEST.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+<p><small>[In an interview with Lawrence Barrett, he said: "The literature of the New World must look to the West for its poetry."]</small></p>
+
+Not to the crowded East,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where, in a well&#8209;worn groove,<br>
+Like the harnessed wheel of a great machine,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The trammeled mind must move&#8212;<br>
+Where Thought must follow the fashion of Thought,<br>
+Or be counted vulgar and set at naught.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Not to the languid South,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where the mariners of the brain<br>
+Are lured by the Sirens of the Sense,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And wrecked upon its main&#8212;<br>
+Where Thought is rocked, on the sweet wind's breath,<br>
+To a torpid sleep that ends in death.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 161]</span>But to the mighty West,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That chosen realm of God,<br>
+Where Nature reaches her hands to men,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And Freedom walks abroad&#8212;<br>
+Where mind is King, and fashion is naught:<br>
+There shall the New World look for thought.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+To the West, the beautiful West,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She shall look, and not in vain&#8212;<br>
+For out of its broad and boundless store<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Come muscle, and nerve, and brain.<br>
+Let the bards of the East and the South be dumb&#8212;<br>
+For out of the West shall the Poets come.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+They shall come with souls as great<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As the cradle where they were rocked;<br>
+They shall come with brows that are touched with fire,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like the Gods with whom they have walked;<br>
+They shall come from the West in royal state,<br>
+The Singers and Thinkers for whom we wait.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_LAND_OF_CONTENT"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE LAND OF CONTENT.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I set out for the Land of Content,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By the gay crowded pleasure&#8209;highway,<br>
+With laughter, and jesting, I went<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With the mirth&#8209;loving throng for a day;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Then I knew I had wandered astray,<br>
+For I met returned pilgrims, belated,<br>
+Who said, "We are weary and sated,<br>
+But we found not the Land of Content."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 162]</span>I turned to the steep path of fame,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I said, "It is over yon height&#8212;<br>
+This land with the beautiful name&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Ambition will lend me its light."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But I paused in my journey ere night,<br>
+For the way grew so lonely and troubled;<br>
+I said&#8212;my anxiety doubled&#8212;<br>
+"This is not the road to Content."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then I joined the great rabble and throng<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That frequents the moneyed world's mart;<br>
+But the greed, and the grasping and wrong,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Left me only one wish&#8212;to depart.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And sickened, and saddened at heart,<br>
+I hurried away from the gateway,<br>
+For my soul and my spirit said straightway,<br>
+"This is not the road to Content."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then weary in body and brain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;An overgrown path I detected,<br>
+And I said "I will hide with my pain<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In this by&#8209;way, unused and neglected."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lo! it led to the realm God selected<br>
+To crown with his best gifts of beauty,<br>
+And through the dark pathway of duty<br>
+I came to the land of Content.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="A_SONG_OF_LIFE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 163]</span><h2>A SONG OF LIFE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+In the rapture of life and of living,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I lift up my heart and rejoice,<br>
+And I thank the great Giver for giving<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The soul of my gladness a voice.<br>
+In the glow of the glorious weather,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In the sweet&#8209;scented sensuous air,<br>
+My burdens seem light as a feather&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;They are nothing to bear.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In the strength and the glory of power,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In the pride and the pleasure of wealth,<br>
+(For who dares dispute me my dower<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of talents and youth&#8209;time and health?)<br>
+I can laugh at the world and its sages&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I am greater than seers who are sad,<br>
+For he is most wise in all ages<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Who knows how to be glad.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I lift up my eyes to Apollo,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The god of the beautiful days,<br>
+And my spirit soars off like a swallow<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And is lost in the light of its rays.<br>
+Are you troubled and sad? I beseech you<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Come out of the shadows of strife&#8212;<br>
+Come out in the sun while I teach you<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The secret of life.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 164]</span>Come out of the world&#8212;come above it&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Up over its crosses and graves,<br>
+Though the green earth is fair and I love it,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We must love it as masters, not slaves.<br>
+Come up where the dust never rises&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But only the perfume of flowers&#8212;<br>
+And your life shall be glad with surprises<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of beautiful hours.<br>
+Come up where the rare golden wine is<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Apollo distills in my sight,<br>
+And your life shall be happy as mine is,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And as full of delight.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="WARNING"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>WARNING.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+High in the heavens I saw the moon this morning,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Albeit the sun shone bright;<br>
+Unto my soul it spoke, in voice of warning,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;"Remember Night!"<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_CHRISTIANS_NEW_YEAR_PRAYER"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE CHRISTIAN'S NEW YEAR PRAYER.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Thou Christ of mine, thy gracious ear low bending<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Through these glad New Year days,<br>
+To catch the countless prayers to Heaven ascending&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For e'en hard hearts do raise<br>
+Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or freedom from all care&#8212;<br>
+Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hear now a Christian's prayer.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 165]</span>Let this young year that, silent, walks beside me,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Be as a means of grace<br>
+To lead me up, no matter what betide me,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Nearer the Master's face.<br>
+If it need be that ere I reach the fountain<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where Living waters play,<br>
+My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Then cast them in my way.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To shape it for thy crown,<br>
+Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With sorrows bear it down.<br>
+Do what thou wilt to mold me to thy pleasure,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And if I should complain,<br>
+Heap full of anguish yet another measure<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Until I smile at pain.<br>
+Send dangers&#8212;deaths! but tell me how to dare them;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Enfold me in thy care.<br>
+Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;This is a Christian's prayer.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="IN_THE_NIGHT"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 166]</span><h2>IN THE NIGHT.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Sometimes at night, when I sit and write,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I hear the strangest things,&#8212;<br>
+As my brain grows hot with burning thought,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That struggles for form and wings,<br>
+I can hear the beat of my swift blood's feet,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As it speeds with a rush and a whir<br>
+From heart to brain and back again,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like a race&#8209;horse under the spur.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+With my soul's fine ear I listen and hear<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The tender Silence speak,<br>
+As it leans on the breast of Night to rest,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And presses his dusky cheek.<br>
+And the darkness turns in its sleep, and yearns<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For something that is kin;<br>
+And I hear the hiss of a scorching kiss,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As it folds and fondles Sin.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In its hurrying race through leagues of space,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I can hear the Earth catch breath,<br>
+As it heaves and moans, and shudders and groans,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And longs for the rest of Death.<br>
+And high and far, from a distant star,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Whose name is unknown to me,<br>
+I hear a voice that says, "Rejoice,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For I keep ward o'er thee!"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Oh, sweet and strange are the sounds that range<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Through the chambers of the night;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 167]</span>And the watcher who waits by the dim, dark gates,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;May hear, if he lists aright.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="GODS_MEASURE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>GOD'S MEASURE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+God measures souls by their capacity<br>
+For entertaining his best Angel, Love.<br>
+Who loveth most is nearest kin to God,<br>
+Who is all Love, or Nothing.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;He who sits<br>
+And looks out on the palpitating world,<br>
+And feels his heart swell in him large enough<br>
+To hold all men within it, he is near<br>
+His great Creator's standard, though he dwells<br>
+Outside the pale of churches, and knows not<br>
+A feast&#8209;day from a fast&#8209;day, or a line<br>
+Of Scripture even. What God wants of us<br>
+Is that outreaching bigness that ignores<br>
+All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds,<br>
+And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="A_MARCH_SNOW"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>A MARCH SNOW.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Let the old snow be covered with the new:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.<br>
+Let it be hidden wholly from our view<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.<br>
+When Winter dies, low at the sweet Spring's feet,<br>
+Let him be mantled in a clean, white sheet.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 168]</span>Let the old life be covered by the new:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The old past life so full of sad mistakes,<br>
+Let it be wholly hidden from the view<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By deeds as white and silent as snow&#8209;flakes.<br>
+Ere this earth life melts in the eternal Spring<br>
+Let the white mantle of repentance, fling<br>
+Soft drapery about it, fold on fold,<br>
+Even as the new snow covers up the old.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="AFTER_THE_BATTLES_ARE_OVER"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>AFTER THE BATTLES ARE OVER.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+<p><small>[Read at Re&#8209;union of the G. A. T., Madison, Wis., July 4, 1872.]</small></p>
+
+After the battles are over,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And the war drums cease to beat,<br>
+And no more is heard on the hillside<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The sound of hurrying feet,<br>
+Full many a noble action,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That was done in the days of strife,<br>
+By the soldier is half forgotten,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In the peaceful walks of life.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Just as the tangled grasses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In Summer's warmth and light,<br>
+Grow over the graves of the fallen<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And hide them away from sight,<br>
+So many an act of valor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And many a deed sublime,<br>
+Fade from the mind of the soldier,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;O'ergrown by the grass of time.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 169]</span>Not so should they be rewarded,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Those noble deeds of old;<br>
+They should live forever and ever,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When the heroes' hearts are cold.<br>
+Then rally, ye brave old comrades,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Old veterans, re&#8209;unite!<br>
+Uproot Time's tangled grasses&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Live over the march, and the fight.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Let Grant come up from the White House,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And clasp each brother's hand,<br>
+First chieftain of the army,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Last chieftain of the land.<br>
+Let him rest from a nation's burdens,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And go, in thought, with his men,<br>
+Through the fire and smoke of Shiloh,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And save the day again.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+This silent hero of battles<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Knew no such word as defeat.<br>
+It was left for the rebels' learning,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Along with the word&#8212;retreat.<br>
+He was not given to talking,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But he found that guns would preach<br>
+In a way that was more convincing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than fine and flowery speech.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Three cheers for the grave commander<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of the grand old Tennessee!<br>
+Who won the first great battle&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Gained the first great victory.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 170]</span>His motto was always "Conquer,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Success" was his countersign,<br>
+And "though it took all Summer,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He kept fighting upon "that line."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Let Sherman, the stern old General,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Come rallying with his men;<br>
+Let them march once more through Georgia<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And down to the sea again.<br>
+Oh! that grand old tramp to Savannah,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Three hundred miles to the coast,<br>
+It will live in the heart of the nation,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Forever its pride and boast.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As Sheridan went to the battle,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When a score of miles away,<br>
+He has come to the feast and banquet,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By the iron horse, to&#8209;day.<br>
+Its pace is not much swifter<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than the pace of that famous steed<br>
+Which bore him down to the contest<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And saved the day by his speed.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then go over the ground to&#8209;day, boys,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Tread each remembered spot.<br>
+It will be a gleesome journey,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;On the swift&#8209;shod feet of thought;<br>
+You can fight a bloodless battle,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;You can skirmish along the route,<br>
+But it's not worth while to forage,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There are rations enough without.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 171]</span>Don't start if you hear the cannon,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It is not the sound of doom,<br>
+It does not call to the contest&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To the battle's smoke and gloom.<br>
+"Let us have peace," was spoken,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And lo! peace ruled again;<br>
+And now the nation is shouting,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Through the cannon's voice, "Amen."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+O boys who besieged old Vicksburg,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Can time e'er wash away<br>
+The triumph of her surrender,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Nine years ago to&#8209;day?<br>
+Can you ever forget the moment,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When you saw the flag of white,<br>
+That told how the grim old city<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Had fallen in her might?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Ah, 'twas a bold brave army,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When the boys, with a right good will,<br>
+Went gayly marching and singing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To the fight at Champion Hill.<br>
+They met with a warm reception,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But the soul of "Old John Brown"<br>
+Was abroad on that field of battle,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And our flag did NOT go down.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Come, heroes of Look Out Mountain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of Corinth and Donelson,<br>
+Of Kenesaw and Atlanta,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And tell how the day was won!<br>
+Hush! bow the head for a moment&#8212;<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 172]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;There are those who cannot come.<br>
+No bugle&#8209;call can arouse them&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;No sound of fife or drum.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Oh, boys who died for the country,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Oh, dear and sainted dead!<br>
+What can we say about you<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That has not once been said?<br>
+Whether you fell in the contest,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Struck down by shot and shell,<br>
+Or pined 'neath the hand of sickness<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or starved in the prison cell,<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We know that you died for Freedom,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To save our land from shame,<br>
+To rescue a periled Nation,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And we give you deathless fame.<br>
+'T was the cause of Truth and Justice<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That you fought and perished for,<br>
+And we say it, oh, so gently,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Our boys who died in the war."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Saviors of our Republic,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Heroes who wore the blue,<br>
+We owe the peace that surrounds us&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And our Nation's strength to you.<br>
+We owe it to you that our banner,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The fairest flag in the world,<br>
+Is to&#8209;day unstained, unsullied,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;On the Summer air unfurled.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 173]</span>We look on its stripes and spangles,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And our hearts are filled the while<br>
+With love for the brave commanders,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And the boys of the rank and file.<br>
+The grandest deeds of valor<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Were never written out,<br>
+The noblest acts of virtue<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The world knows nothing about.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And many a private soldier,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Who walks his humble way,<br>
+With no sounding name or title,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Unknown to the world to&#8209;day,<br>
+In the eyes of God is a hero<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As worthy of the bays,<br>
+As any mighty General<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To whom the world gives praise.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Brave men of a mighty army,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We extend you friendship's hand!<br>
+I speak for the "Loyal Women,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Those pillars of our land.<br>
+We wish you a hearty welcome,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We are proud that you gather here<br>
+To talk of old times together<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;On this brightest day in the year.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And if Peace, whose snow&#8209;white pinions,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Brood over our land to&#8209;day,<br>
+Should ever again go from us,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;(God grant she may ever stay!)<br>
+Should our Nation call in her peril<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 174]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;For "Six hundred thousand more,"<br>
+The loyal women would hear her,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And send you out as before.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We would bring out the treasured knapsack,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We would take the sword from the wall,<br>
+And hushing our own hearts' pleadings,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hear only the country's call.<br>
+For next to our God, is our Nation;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And we cherish the honored name,<br>
+Of the bravest of all brave armies<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Who fought for that Nation's fame.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="NOBLESSE_OBLIGE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>NOBLESSE OBLIGE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I hold it the duty of one who is gifted,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And specially dowered in all men's sight,<br>
+To know no rest till his life is lifted<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Fully up to his great gifts' height.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He must mold the man into rare completeness,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For gems are set only in gold refined.<br>
+He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And cast out folly and pride from his mind.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+For he who drinks from a god's gold fountain<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of art or music or rhythmic song<br>
+Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And weed from his heart the roots of wrong.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 175]</span>Great gifts should be worn, like a crown befitting!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And not like gems in a beggar's hands.<br>
+And the toil must be constant and unremitting<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Which lifts up the king to the crown's demands.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="AND_THEY_ARE_DUMB"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>AND THEY ARE DUMB.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I have been across the bridges of the years.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Wet with tears<br>
+Were the ties on which I trod, going back<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Down the track<br>
+To the valley where I left, 'neath skies of Truth,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;My lost youth.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As I went, I dropped my burdens, one and all&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let them fall;<br>
+All my sorrows, all my wrinkles, all my care,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;My white hair,<br>
+I laid down, like some lone pilgrim's heavy pack,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;By the track.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As I neared the happy valley with light feet,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;My heart beat<br>
+To the rhythm of a song I used to know<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Long ago,<br>
+And my spirits gushed and bubbled like a fountain<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Down a mountain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 176]</span>On the border of that valley I found you,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Tried and true;<br>
+And we wandered through the golden Summer&#8209;Land<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Hand in hand.<br>
+And my pulses beat with rapture in the blisses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Of your kisses.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And we met there, in those green and verdant places,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Smiling faces,<br>
+And sweet laughter echoed upward from the dells<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Like gold bells.<br>
+And the world was spilling over with the glory<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Of Youth's story.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It was but a dreamer's journey of the brain;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And again<br>
+I have left the happy valley far behind;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And I find<br>
+Time stands waiting with his burdens in a pack<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;For my back.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As he speeds me, like a rough, well&#8209;meaning friend,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;To the end,<br>
+Will I find again the lost ones loved so well?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Who can tell!<br>
+But the dead know what the life will be to come&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And they are dumb!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="NIGHT"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 177]</span><h2>NIGHT.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+As some dusk mother shields from all alarms<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The tired child she gathers to her breast,<br>
+The brunette Night doth fold me in her arms,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And hushes me to perfect peace and rest.<br>
+Her eyes of stars shine on me, and I hear<br>
+Her voice of winds low crooning on my ear.<br>
+O Night, O Night, how beautiful thou art!<br>
+Come, fold me closer to thy pulsing heart.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The day is full of gladness, and the light<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So beautifies the common outer things,<br>
+I only see with my external sight,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And only hear the great world's voice which rings<br>
+But silently from daylight and from din<br>
+The sweet Night draws me&#8212;whispers, "Look within!"<br>
+And looking, as one wakened from a dream,<br>
+I see what <i>is</i>&#8212;no longer what doth seem.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The Night says, "Listen!" and upon my ear<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Revealed, as are the visions to my sight,<br>
+The voices known as "Beautiful" come near<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And whisper of the vastly Infinite.<br>
+Great, blue&#8209;eyed Truth, her sister Purity,<br>
+Their brother Honor, all converse with me,<br>
+And kiss my brow, and say, "Be brave of heart!"<br>
+O holy three! how beautiful thou art!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 178]</span>The Night says, "Child, sleep that thou may'st arise<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Strong for to&#8209;morrow's struggle." And I feel<br>
+Her shadowy fingers pressing on my eyes:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like thistledown I float to the Ideal&#8212;<br>
+The Slumberland, made beautiful and bright<br>
+As death, by dreams of loved ones gone from sight,<br>
+O food for soul's, sweet dreams of pure delight,<br>
+How beautiful the holy hours of Night!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="ALL_FOR_ME"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>ALL FOR ME.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+The world grows green on a thousand hills&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By a thousand willows the bees are humming,<br>
+And a million birds by a million rills,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Sing of the golden season coming.<br>
+But, gazing out on the sun&#8209;kist lea,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And hearing a thrush and a blue&#8209;bird singing,<br>
+I feel that the Summer is all for me,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And all for me are the joys it is bringing.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+All for me the bumble&#8209;bee<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Drones his song in the perfect weather;<br>
+And, just on purpose to sing to me,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Thrush and blue&#8209;bird came North together.<br>
+Just for me, in red and white,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Bloom and blossom the fields of clover;<br>
+And all for me and my delight<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The wild Wind follows and plays the lover.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The mighty sun, with a scorching kiss<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;(I have read, and heard, and do not doubt it)<br>
+Has burned up a thousand worlds like this,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 179]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;And never stopped to think about it.<br>
+And yet I believe he hurries up<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Just on purpose to kiss my flowers&#8212;<br>
+To drink the dew from the lily&#8209;cup,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And help it to grow through golden hours.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I know I am only a speck of dust,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;An individual mite of masses,<br>
+Clinging upon the outer crust<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of a little ball of cooling gases.<br>
+And yet, and yet, say what you will,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And laugh, if you please, at my lack of reason,<br>
+For me wholly, and for me still,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Blooms and blossoms the Summer season.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Nobody else has ever heard<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The story the Wind to me discloses;<br>
+And none but I and the humming&#8209;bird<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Can read the hearts of the crimson roses.<br>
+Ah, my Summer&#8212;my love&#8212;my own!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The world grows glad in your smiling weather;<br>
+Yet all for me, and me alone,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;You and your Court came north together.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="PHILOSOPHY"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>PHILOSOPHY.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+At morn the wise man walked abroad,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Proud with the learning of great fools.<br>
+He laughed and said, "There is no God&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;'Tis force creates, 'tis reason rules."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 180]</span>Meek with the wisdom of great faith,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;At night he knelt while angels smiled,<br>
+And wept and cried with anguished breath,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Jehovah, <i>God</i>, save thou my child."<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="CARLOS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>"CARLOS."</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Last night I knelt low at my lady's feet.<br>
+One soft, caressing hand played with my hair,<br>
+And one I kissed and fondled. Kneeling there,<br>
+I deemed my meed of happiness complete.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+She was so fair, so full of witching wiles&#8212;<br>
+Of fascinating tricks of mouth and eye;<br>
+So womanly withal, but not too shy&#8212;<br>
+And all my heaven was compassed by her smiles.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Her soft touch on my cheek and forehead sent,<br>
+Like little arrows, thrills of tenderness<br>
+Through all my frame. I trembled with excess<br>
+Of love, and sighed the sigh of great content.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+When any mortal dares to so rejoice,<br>
+I think a jealous Heaven, bending low,<br>
+Reaches a stern hand forth and deals a blow.<br>
+Sweet through the dusk I heard my lady's voice.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"My love!" she sighed, "My Carlos!" even now<br>
+I feel the perfumed zephyr of her breath<br>
+Bearing to me those words of living death,<br>
+And starting out the cold drops on my brow.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 181]</span>For I am <i>Paul</i>&#8212;not Carlos! Who is he<br>
+That, in the supreme hour of love's delight,<br>
+Veiled by the shadows of the falling night,<br>
+She should breathe low his name, forgetting me?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I will not ask her! 'twere a fruitless task,<br>
+For, woman&#8209;like, she would make me believe<br>
+Some well&#8209;told tale; and sigh, and seem to grieve,<br>
+And call me cruel. Nay, I will not ask.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But this man Carlos, whosoe'er he be,<br>
+Has turned my cup of nectar into gall,<br>
+Since I know he has claimed some one or all<br>
+Of these delights my lady grants to me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He must have knelt and kissed her, in some sad<br>
+And tender twilight, when the day grew dim.<br>
+How else could I remind her so of him?<br>
+Why, reveries like these have made men mad!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He must have felt her soft hand on his brow.<br>
+If Heaven was shocked at such presumptuous wrongs,<br>
+And plunged him in the grave, where he belongs,<br>
+<i>Still she remembers</i>, though she loves me now.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And if he lives, and meets me to his cost,<br>
+Why, what avails it? I must hear and see<br>
+That curst name "Carlos" always haunting me&#8212;<br>
+So has another Paradise been lost.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_TWO_GLASSES"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 182]</span><h2>THE TWO GLASSES.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+There sat two glasses filled to the brim,<br>
+On a rich man's table, rim to rim.<br>
+One was ruddy and red as blood,<br>
+And one was clear as the crystal flood.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 183]</span>Said the glass of wine to his paler brother,<br>
+"Let us tell tales of the past to each other;<br>
+I can tell of a banquet, and revel, and mirth,<br>
+Where I was king, for I ruled in might;<br>
+For the proudest and grandest souls on earth<br>
+Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.<br>
+From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;<br>
+From the heights of fame I have hurled men down.<br>
+I have blasted many an honored name;<br>
+I have taken virtue and given shame;<br>
+I have tempted the youth with a sip, a taste,<br>
+That has made his future a barren waste.<br>
+Far greater than any king am I,<br>
+Or than any army beneath the sky.<br>
+I have made the arm of the driver fail,<br>
+And sent the train from the iron rail.<br>
+I have made good ships go down at sea,<br>
+And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.<br>
+Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall;<br>
+And my might and power are over all!<br>
+Ho, ho! pale brother," said the wine,<br>
+"Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?"<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Said the water&#8209;glass: "I cannot boast<br>
+Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host,<br>
+But I can tell of hearts that were sad<br>
+By my crystal drops made bright and glad;<br>
+Of thirsts I have quenched, and brows I have laved;<br>
+Of hands I have cooled, and souls I have saved.<br>
+I have leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain,<br>
+Slept in the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain.<br>
+I have burst my cloud&#8209;fetters, and dropped from the sky.<br>
+And everywhere gladdened the prospect and eye;<br>
+I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain;<br>
+I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain.<br>
+I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill,<br>
+That ground out the flour, and turned at my will.<br>
+I can tell of manhood debased by you,<br>
+That I have uplifted and crowned anew<br>
+I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid;<br>
+I gladden the heart of man and maid;<br>
+I set the wine&#8209;chained captive free,<br>
+And all are better for knowing me."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+These are the tales they told each other,<br>
+The glass of wine and its paler brother,<br>
+As they sat together, filled to the brim,<br>
+On a rich man's table, rim to rim.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THROUGH_TEARS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 184]</span><h2>THROUGH TEARS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+An artist toiled over his pictures;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He labored by night and by day.<br>
+He struggled for glory and honor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But the world, it had nothing to say.<br>
+His walls were ablaze with the splendors<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We see in the beautiful skies;<br>
+But the world beheld only the colors<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That were made out of chemical dyes.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Time sped. And he lived, loved, and suffered;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He passed through the valley of grief.<br>
+Again he toiled over his canvas,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Since in labor alone was relief.<br>
+It showed not the splendor of colors<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of those of his earlier years,<br>
+But the world? the world bowed down before it,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Because it was painted with tears.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+A poet was gifted with genius,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And he sang, and he sang all the days.<br>
+He wrote for the praise of the people,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But the people accorded no praise.<br>
+Oh, his songs were as blithe as the morning,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As sweet as the music of birds;<br>
+But the world had no homage to offer,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Because they were nothing but words.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 185]</span>Time sped. And the poet through sorrow<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Became like his suffering kind.<br>
+Again he toiled over his poems<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To lighten the grief of his mind.<br>
+They were not so flowing and rhythmic<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As those of his earlier years,<br>
+But the world? lo! it offered its homage<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Because they were written in tears.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So ever the price must be given<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By those seeking glory in art;<br>
+So ever the world is repaying<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The grief&#8209;stricken, suffering heart.<br>
+The happy must ever be humble;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Ambition must wait for the years,<br>
+Ere hoping to win the approval<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of a world that looks on through its tears.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="INTO_SPACE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>INTO SPACE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+If the sad old world should jump a cog<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Sometime, in its dizzy spinning,<br>
+And go off the track with a sudden jog,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;What an end would come to the sinning.<br>
+What a rest from strife and the burdens of life<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For the millions of people in it,<br>
+What a way out of care, and worry and wear,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;All in a beautiful minute.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As 'round the sun with a curving sweep<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It hurries and runs and races,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 186]</span>Should it lose its balance, and go with a leap<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Into the vast sea&#8209;spaces,<br>
+What a blest relief it would bring to the grief,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And the trouble and toil about us,<br>
+To be suddenly hurled from the solar world<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And let it go on without us.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+With not a sigh or a sad good&#8209;by<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For loved ones left behind us,<br>
+We would go with a lunge and a mighty plunge<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where never a grave should find us.<br>
+What a wild mad thrill our veins would fill<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As the great earth, life a feather,<br>
+Should float through the air to God knows where,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And carry us all together.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+No dark, damp tomb and no mourner's gloom,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;No tolling bell in the steeple,<br>
+But in one swift breath a painless death<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For a million billion people.<br>
+What greater bliss could we ask than this,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To sweep with a bird's free motion<br>
+Through leagues of space to a resting place,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In a vast and vapory ocean&#8212;<br>
+To pass away from this life for aye<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With never a dear tie sundered,<br>
+And a world on fire for a funeral pyre,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;While the stars looked on and wondered?<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THROUGH_DIM_EYES"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 187]</span><h2>THROUGH DIM EYES.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder?<br>
+I see not the grace that I used to see<br>
+In the meadow&#8209;brook whose song was so glad, or<br>
+In the boughs of the willow tree.<br>
+The brook runs slower&#8212;its song seems lower,<br>
+And not the song that it sang of old;<br>
+And the tree I admired looks weary and tired<br>
+Of the changeless story of heat and cold.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+When the sun goes up, and the stars go under,<br>
+In that supreme hour of the breaking day,<br>
+Is it my eyes, or the dawn I wonder,<br>
+That finds less of the gold, and more of the gray?<br>
+I see not the splendor, the tints so tender,<br>
+The rose&#8209;hued glory I used to see;<br>
+And I often borrow a vague half&#8209;sorrow<br>
+That another morning has dawned for me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+When the royal smile of that welcome comer<br>
+Beams on the meadow and burns in the sky,<br>
+Is it my eyes, or does the Summer<br>
+Bring less of bloom than in days gone by?<br>
+The beauty that thrilled me, the rapture that filled me,<br>
+To an overflowing of happy tears,<br>
+I pass unseeing, my sad eyes being<br>
+Dimmed by the shadow of vanished years.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 188]</span>When the heart grows weary, all things seem dreary;<br>
+When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long.<br>
+Thank God for sending kind death as an ending,<br>
+Like a grand Amen to a minor song.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LA_MORT_DAMOUR"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LA MORT D'AMOUR.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+When was it that love died? We were so fond,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So very fond, a little while ago.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With leaping pulses, and blood all aglow,<br>
+We dreamed about a sweeter life beyond,<br>
+
+<br>
+
+When we should dwell together as one heart,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And scarce could wait that happy time to come.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Now side by side we sit with lips quite dumb,<br>
+And feel ourselves a thousand miles apart.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+How was it that love died! I do not know.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I only know that all its grace untold<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Has faded into gray! I miss the gold<br>
+From our dull skies; but did not see it go.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Why should love die? We prized it, I am sure;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We thought of nothing else when it was ours;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We cherished it in smiling, sunlit bowers;<br>
+It was our all; why could it not endure?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Alas, we know not how, or when or why<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;This dear thing died. We only know it went,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And left us dull, cold, and indifferent;<br>
+We who found heaven once in each other's sigh.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 189]</span>How pitiful it is, and yet how true<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That half the lovers in the world, one day,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Look questioning in each other's eyes this way<br>
+And know love's gone forever, as we do.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Sometimes I cannot help but think, dear heart,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As I look out o'er all the wide, sad earth<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And see love's flame gone out on many a hearth,<br>
+That those who would keep love must dwell apart.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_PUNISHED"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>THE PUNISHED.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Not they who know the awful gibbet's anguish,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Not they who, while sad years go by them, in<br>
+The sunless cells of lonely prisons languish,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Do suffer fullest penalty for sin.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+'Tis they who walk the highways unsuspected<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Yet with grim fear forever at their side,<br>
+Who hug the corpse of some sin undetected,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A corpse no grave or coffin&#8209;lid can hide&#8212;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+'Tis they who are in their own chambers haunted<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By thoughts that like unbidden guests intrude,<br>
+And sit down, uninvited and unwanted,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And make a nightmare of the solitude.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="HALF_FLEDGED"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 190]</span><h2>HALF FLEDGED.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I feel the stirrings in me of great things.<br>
+New half&#8209;fledged thoughts rise up and beat their wings,<br>
+And tremble on the margin of their nest,<br>
+Then flutter back, and hide within my breast.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Beholding space, they doubt their untried strength.<br>
+Beholding men, they fear them. But at length<br>
+Grown all too great and active for the heart<br>
+That broods them with such tender mother art,<br>
+Forgetting fear, and men, and all, that hour,<br>
+Save the impelling consciousness of power<br>
+That stirs within them&#8212;they shall soar away<br>
+Up to the very portals of the Day.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Oh, what exultant rapture thrills me through<br>
+When I contemplate all those thoughts may do;<br>
+Like snow&#8209;white eagles penetrating space,<br>
+They may explore full many an unknown place,<br>
+And build their nests on mountain heights unseen,<br>
+Whereon doth lie that dreamed&#8209;of rest serene.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Stay thou a little longer in my breast,<br>
+Till my fond heart shall push thee from the nest,<br>
+Anxious to see thee soar to heights divine&#8212;<br>
+Oh, beautiful but half&#8209;fledged thoughts of mine.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LOVES_SLEEP"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 191]</span><h2>LOVE'S SLEEP.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+(Vers de Soci&#233;t&#233;.)<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We'll cover Love with roses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And sweet sleep he shall take.<br>
+None but a fool supposes<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Love always keeps awake.<br>
+I've known loves without number.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;True loves were they, and tried;<br>
+And just for want of slumber<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;They pined away and died.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Our love was bright and cheerful<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A little while agone;<br>
+Now he is pale and tearful,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And&#8212;yes, I've seen him yawn.<br>
+So tired is he of kisses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That he can only weep;<br>
+The one dear thing he misses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And longs for now is sleep.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We could not let him leave us<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;One time, he was so dear,<br>
+But now it would not grieve us<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;If he slept half a year.<br>
+For he has had his season,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Like the lily and the rose,<br>
+And it but stands to reason<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That he should want repose.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 192]</span>We prized the smiling Cupid<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Who made our days so bright;<br>
+But he has grown so stupid<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We gladly say good&#8209;night.<br>
+And if he wakens tender<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And fond, and fair as when<br>
+He filled our lives with splendor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We'll take him back again.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And should he never waken,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As that perchance may be,<br>
+We will not weep forsaken,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But sing, "Love, tra&#8209;la&#8209;lee!"<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="TRUE_CULTURE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>TRUE CULTURE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+The highest culture is to speak no ill;<br>
+The best reformer is the man whose eyes<br>
+Are quick to see all beauty and all worth;<br>
+And by his own discreet, well&#8209;ordered life,<br>
+Alone reproves the erring.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;When they gaze<br>
+Turns it on thine own soul, be most severe.<br>
+But when it falls upon a fellow&#8209;man<br>
+Let kindliness control it; and refrain<br>
+From that belittling censure that springs forth<br>
+From common lips like weeds from marshy soil.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_VOLUPTUARY"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 193]</span><h2>THE VOLUPTUARY.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Oh, I am sick of love reciprocated,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of hopes fulfilled, ambitions gratified.<br>
+Life holds no thing to be anticipated,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And I am sad from being satisfied.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The eager joy felt climbing up the mountain<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Has left me now the highest point is gained.<br>
+The crystal spray that fell from Fame's fair fountain<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Was sweeter than the waters were when drained.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The gilded apple which the world calls pleasure,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And which I purchased with my youth and strength,<br>
+Pleased me a moment. But the empty treasure<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lost all its lustre, and grew dim at length.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And love, all glowing with a golden glory,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Delighted me a season with its tale.<br>
+It pleased the longest, but at last the story<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So oft repeated, to my heart grew stale.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I lived for self, and all I asked was given,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I have had all, and now am sick of bliss,<br>
+No other punishment designed by Heaven<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Could strike me half so forcibly as this.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I feel no sense of aught but enervation<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In all the joys my selfish aims have brought,<br>
+And know no wish but for annihilation,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Since that would give me freedom from the thought.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 194]</span>Oh, blest is he who has some aim defeated;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Some mighty loss to balance all his gain.<br>
+For him there is a hope not yet completed;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For him hath life yet draughts of joy and pain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But cursed is he who has no balked ambition,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;No hopeless hope, no loss beyond repair,<br>
+But sick and sated with complete fruition,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Keeps not the pleasure even of despair.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_YEAR"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2> THE YEAR.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+What can be said in New Year rhymes,<br>
+That's not been said a thousand times?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The new years come, the old years go,<br>
+We know we dream, we dream we know.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We rise up laughing with the light,<br>
+We lie down weeping with the night.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We hug the world until it stings,<br>
+We curse it then and sigh for wings.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We live, we love, we woo, we wed,<br>
+We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,<br>
+And that's the burden of the year.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THE_UNATTAINED"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 195]</span><h2>THE UNATTAINED.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+A vision beauteous as the morn,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming,<br>
+Slow glided o'er a field late shorn<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where walked a poet idly dreaming.<br>
+He saw her, and joy lit his face,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Oh, vanish not at human speaking,"<br>
+He cried, "thou form of magic grace,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Thou art the poem I am seeking.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"I've sought thee long! I claim thee now&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;My thought embodied, living, real."<br>
+She shook the tresses from her brow.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Nay, nay!" she said, "I am ideal.<br>
+I am the phantom of desire&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The spirit of all great endeavor,<br>
+I am the voice that says, 'Come higher,'<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That calls men up and up forever.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"'Tis not alone thy thought supreme<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That here upon thy path has risen;<br>
+I am the artist's highest dream,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The ray of light he cannot prison.<br>
+I am the sweet ecstatic note<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than all glad music gladder, clearer,<br>
+That trembles in the singer's throat,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And dies without a human hearer.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 196]</span>"I am the greater, better yield,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That leads and cheers thy farmer neighbor,<br>
+For me he bravely tills the field<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And whistles gayly at his labor.<br>
+Not thou alone, O poet soul,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Dost seek me through an endless morrow,<br>
+But to the toiling, hoping whole<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I am at once the hope and sorrow.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The spirit of the unattained,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I am to those who seek to name me,<br>
+A good desired but never gained.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;All shall pursue, but none shall claim me."<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="IN_THE_CROWD"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>IN THE CROWD.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+How happy they are, in all seeming,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How gay, or how smilingly proud,<br>
+How brightly their faces are beaming,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;These people who make up the crowd.<br>
+How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How they look at each other and smile,<br>
+How they glow, and what <i>bon mots</i> they utter!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But a strange thought has found me the while!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It is odd, but I stand here and fancy<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;These people who now play a part,<br>
+All forced by some strange necromancy<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To speak, and to act, from the heart.<br>
+What a hush would come over the laughter!<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 197]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;What a silence would fall on the mirth!<br>
+And then what a wail would sweep after,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As the night&#8209;wind sweeps over the earth.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+If the secrets held under and hidden<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In the intricate hearts of the crowd,<br>
+Were suddenly called to, and bidden<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To rise up and cry out aloud,<br>
+How strange one would look to another!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Old friends of long standing and years&#8212;<br>
+Own brothers would not know each other,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Robed new in their sorrows and fears.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+From broadcloth, and velvet, and laces,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Would echo the groans of despair,<br>
+And there would be blanching of faces<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And wringing of hands and of hair.<br>
+That man with his record of honor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That lady down there with the rose,<br>
+That girl with Spring's freshness upon her,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Who knoweth the secrets of those?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Smile on, O ye maskers, smile sweetly!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Step lightly, bow low and laugh loud!<br>
+Though the world is deceived and completely,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I know ye, O sad&#8209;hearted crowd!<br>
+I watch you with infinite pity:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But play on, play ever your part,<br>
+Be gleeful, be joyful, be witty!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;'Tis better than showing the heart.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LIFE_AND_I"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 198]</span><h2>LIFE AND I.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Life and I are lovers, straying<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Arm in arm along:<br>
+Often like two children Maying,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Full of mirth and song.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Life plucks all the blooming hours<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Growing by the way;<br>
+Binds them on my brow like flowers;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Calls me Queen of May.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then again, in rainy weather,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We sit vis&#8209;a&#8209;vis,<br>
+Planning work we'll do together<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In the years to be.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Sometimes Life denies me blisses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And I frown or pout;<br>
+But we make it up with kisses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Ere the day is out.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Woman&#8209;like, I sometimes grieve him,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Try his trust and faith,<br>
+Saying I shall one day leave him<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For his rival Death.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Then he always grows more zealous,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Tender, and more true;<br>
+Loves the more for being jealous,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As all lovers do.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 199]</span>Though I swear by stars above him,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And by worlds beyond,<br>
+That I love him&#8212;love him&#8212;love him;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Though my heart is fond;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Though he gives me, doth my lover,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Kisses with each breath&#8212;<br>
+I shall one day throw him over,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And plight troth with Death.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="GUERDON"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>GUERDON.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Upon the white cheek of the Cherub Year<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I saw a tear.<br>
+Alas! I murmured, that the Year should borrow<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;So soon a sorrow.<br>
+Just then the sunlight fell with sudden flame:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;The tear became<br>
+A wond'rous diamond sparkling in the light&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;A beauteous sight.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Upon my soul there fell such woeful loss,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I said, "The Cross<br>
+Is grievous for a life as young as mine."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Just then, like wine,<br>
+God's sunlight shone from His high Heavens down;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And lo! a crown<br>
+Gleamed in the place of what I thought a burden&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;My sorrow's guerdon.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="SNOWED_UNDER"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 200]</span><h2>SNOWED UNDER.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Of a thousand things that the Year snowed under&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The busy Old Year who has gone away&#8212;<br>
+How many will rise in the Spring, I wonder,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Brought to life by the sun of May?<br>
+Will the rose&#8209;tree branches, so wholly hidden<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That never a rose&#8209;tree seems to be,<br>
+At the sweet Spring's call come forth unbidden,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And bud in beauty, and bloom for me?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Will the fair, green Earth, whose throbbing bosom<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Is hid like a maid's in her gown at night,<br>
+Wake out of her sleep, and with blade and blossom<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Gem her garments to please my sight?<br>
+Over the knoll in the valley yonder<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The loveliest buttercups bloomed and grew;<br>
+When the snow has gone that drifted them under,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Will they shoot up sunward, and bloom anew?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+When wild winds blew, and a sleet&#8209;storm pelted,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I lost a jewel of priceless worth;<br>
+If I walk that way when snows have melted,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Will the gem gleam up from the bare, brown Earth?<br>
+I laid a love that was dead or dying,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For the year to bury and hide from sight;<br>
+But out of a trance will it waken, crying,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And push to my heart, like a leaf to the light?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 201]</span>Under the snow lie things so cherished&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hopes, ambitions, and dreams of men&#8212;<br>
+Faces that vanished, and trusts that perished,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Never to sparkle and glow again.<br>
+The Old Year greedily grasped his plunder,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And covered it over and hurried away:<br>
+Of the thousand things that he did, I wonder<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How many will rise at the call of May?<br>
+O wise Young Year, with your hands held under<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Your mantle of ermine, tell me, pray!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="PLATONIC"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>PLATONIC.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I knew it the first of the Summer&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I knew it the same at the end&#8212;<br>
+That you and your love were plighted,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But couldn't you be my friend?<br>
+Couldn't we sit in the twilight,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Couldn't we walk on the shore,<br>
+With only a pleasant friendship<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To bind us, and nothing more?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+There was never a word of nonsense<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Spoken between us two,<br>
+Though we lingered oft in the garden<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Till the roses were wet with dew.<br>
+We touched on a thousand subjects&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The moon and the stars above;<br>
+But our talk was tinctured with science,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With never a hint of love.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 202]</span>"A wholly platonic friendship,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;You said I had proved to you,<br>
+"Could bind a man and a woman<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The whole long season through,<br>
+With never a thought of folly,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Though both are in their youth."<br>
+What would you have said, my lady,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;If you had known the truth?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Had I done what my mad heart prompted&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Gone down on my knees to you,<br>
+And told you my passionate story<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There in the dusk and dew;<br>
+My burning, burdensome story,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hidden and hushed so long,<br>
+My story of hopeless loving&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Say, would you have thought it wrong?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But I fought with my heart and conquered:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I hid my wound from sight;<br>
+You were going away in the morning<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And I said a calm good&#8209;night.<br>
+But now, when I sit in the twilight<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or when I walk by the sea,<br>
+That friendship quite "platonic"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Comes surging over me.<br>
+And a passionate longing fills me<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For the roses, the dusk and the dew,&#8212;<br>
+For the beautiful Summer vanished&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For the moonlit talks&#8212;and you.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="WHAT_WE_NEEDED"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 203]</span><h2>WHAT WE NEEDED.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+What does our country need? Not armies standing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With sabres gleaming ready for the fight.<br>
+Not increased navies, skillful and commanding,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To bound the waters with an iron might.<br>
+Not haughty men with glutted purses trying<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To purchase souls, and keep the power of place.<br>
+Not jeweled dolls with one another vieing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;For palms of beauty, elegance and grace.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But we want women, strong of soul, yet lowly,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With that rare meekness, born of gentleness,<br>
+Women whose lives are pure and clean and holy,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The women whom all little children bless.<br>
+Brave, earnest women, helpful to each other,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With finest scorn for all things low and mean.<br>
+Women who hold the names of wife and mother,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Far nobler than the title of a Queen.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+O these are they who mold the men of story,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;These mothers, ofttimes shorn of grace and youth,<br>
+Who, worn and weary, ask no greater glory<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than making some young soul the home of truth,<br>
+Who sow in hearts all fallow for the sowing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The seeds of virtue and of scorn for sin,<br>
+And, patient, watch the beauteous harvest growing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And weed out tares which crafty hands cast in.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 204]</span>Women who do not hold the gift of beauty<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As some rare treasure to be bought and sold,<br>
+But guard it as a precious aid to duty&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The outer framing of the inner gold;<br>
+Women who, low above their cradles bending,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Let flattery's voice go by, and give no heed,<br>
+While their pure prayers like incense are ascending:<br>
+ <i>These</i> are our country's pride, our country's need.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LEUDEMANNS_ON_THE_RIVER"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>"LEUDEMANN'S&#8209;ON&#8209;THE&#8209;RIVER."</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Toward even when the day leans down<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To kiss the upturned face of night,<br>
+Out just beyond the loud&#8209;voiced town<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I know a spot of calm delight.<br>
+Like crimson arrows from a quiver<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The red rays pierce the waters flowing<br>
+While we go dreaming, singing, rowing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To Leudemann's&#8209;on&#8209;the&#8209;River.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The hills, like some glad mocking&#8209;bird,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Send back our laughter and our singing,<br>
+While faint&#8212;and yet more faint is heard<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The steeple bells all sweetly ringing.<br>
+Some message did the winds deliver<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To each glad heart that August night,<br>
+All heard, but all heard not aright;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By Leudemann's&#8209;on&#8209;the&#8209;River.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Night falls as in some foreign clime,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Between the hills that slope and rise.<br>
+So dusk the shades at landing time,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 205]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;We could not see each other's eyes.<br>
+We only saw the moonbeams quiver<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Far down upon the stream! that night<br>
+The new moon gave but little light<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By Leudemann's&#8209;on&#8209;the&#8209;River.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+How dusky were those paths that led<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Up from the river to the hall.<br>
+The tall trees branching overhead<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Invite the early shades that fall.<br>
+In all the glad blithe world, oh, never<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Were hearts more free from care than when<br>
+We wandered through those walks, we ten,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;By Leudemann's&#8209;on&#8209;the&#8209;River.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So soon, so soon, the changes came.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;This August day we two alone,<br>
+On that same river, not the same,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Dream of a night forever flown.<br>
+Strange distances have come to sever<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The hearts that gayly beat in pleasure,<br>
+Long miles we cannot cross or measure&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;From Leudemann's&#8209;on&#8209;the&#8209;River.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We'll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to&#8209;day.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The green, the russet! seems it strange<br>
+So soon, so soon, the leaves can change!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Ah, me! so runs all life away.<br>
+This night wind chills me, and I shiver;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The Summer time is almost past.<br>
+One more good&#8209;bye&#8212;perhaps the last<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To Leudemann's&#8209;on&#8209;the&#8209;River.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="IN_THE_LONG_RUN"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 206]</span><h2>IN THE LONG RUN.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+In the long run fame finds the deserving man.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The lucky wight may prosper for a day,<br>
+But in good time true merit leads the van,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And vain pretense, unnoticed, goes its way.<br>
+There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate,<br>
+But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In the long run.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In the long run all goodly sorrow pays,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There is no better thing than righteous pain,<br>
+The sleepless nights, the awful thorn&#8209;crowned days,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain.<br>
+Unmeaning joys enervate in the end.<br>
+But sorrow yields a glorious dividend<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In the long run.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In the long run all hidden things are known,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The eye of truth will penetrate the night,<br>
+And good or ill, thy secret shall be known,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;However well 'tis guarded from the light.<br>
+All the unspoken motives of the breast<br>
+Are fathomed by the years and stand confest<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In the long run.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+In the long run all love is paid by love,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Though undervalued by the hosts of earth;<br>
+The great eternal Government above<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 207]</span>Give thy love freely; do not count the cost;<br>
+So beautiful a thing was never lost<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In the long run.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="PLEA_TO_SCIENCE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>PLEA TO SCIENCE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+O Science reaching backward through the distance,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Most earnest child of God,<br>
+Exposing all the secrets of existence,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;With thy divining rod,<br>
+I bid thee speed up to the heights supernal,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Clear thinker, ne'er sufficed;<br>
+Go seek and bind the laws and truths eternal,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But leave me Christ.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Upon the vanity of pious sages<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let in the light of day.<br>
+Break down the superstitions of all ages&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Thrust bigotry away;<br>
+Stride on, and bid all stubborn foes defiance<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let Truth and Reason reign.<br>
+But I beseech thee, O Immortal Science,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Let Christ remain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+What canst thou give to help me bear my crosses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In place of Him, my Lord?<br>
+And what to recompense for all my losses,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And bring me sweet reward?<br>
+<i>Thou</i> couldst not with thy clear, cold eyes of reason,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Thou couldst not comfort me<br>
+Like one who passed through that tear&#8209;blotted season,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In sad Gethsemane!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 208]</span>Through all the weary, wearing hour of sorrow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;What word that thou hast said,<br>
+Would make me strong to wait for some to&#8209;morrow<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;When I should find my dead?<br>
+When I am weak, and desolate, and lonely&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And prone to follow wrong?<br>
+Not thou, O Science&#8212;Christ, my Savior, only<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Can make me strong.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Thou are so cold, so lofty and so distant,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Though great my need might be,<br>
+No prayer, however constant and persistent,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Could bring thee down to me.<br>
+Christ stands so near, to help me through each hour,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;To guide me day by day.<br>
+O Science, sweeping all before thy power<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Leave Christ, I pray!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LOVES_BURIAL"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LOVE'S BURIAL.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Let us clear a little space,<br>
+And make Love a burial place.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He is dead, dear, as you see,<br>
+And he wearies you and me,<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Growing heavier, day by day,<br>
+Let us bury him, I say.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Wings of dead white butterflies,<br>
+These shall shroud him, as he lies<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 209]</span>In his casket rich and rare,<br>
+Made of finest maiden&#8209;hair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+With the pollen of the rose<br>
+Let us his white eye&#8209;lids close.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Put the rose thorn in his hand,<br>
+Shorn of leaves&#8212;you understand.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Let some holy water fall<br>
+On his dead face, tears of gall&#8212;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+As we kneel by him and say,<br>
+"Dreams to dreams," and turn away.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Those grave diggers, Doubt, Distrust,<br>
+They will lower him to the dust.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Let us part here with a kiss,<br>
+You go that way, I go this.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Since we buried Love to&#8209;day<br>
+We will walk a separate way.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LITTLE_BLUE_HOOD"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LITTLE BLUE HOOD.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Every morning and every night<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;There passes our window near the street,<br>
+A little girl with an eye so bright,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And a cheek so round and a lip so sweet;<br>
+The daintiest, jauntiest little miss<br>
+That ever any one longed to kiss.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 210]</span>She is neat as wax, and fresh to view,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And her look is wholesome and clean, and good.<br>
+Whatever her gown, her hood is blue,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And so we call her our "Little Blue Hood,"<br>
+For we know not the name of the dear little lass,<br>
+But we call to each other to see her pass.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Little Blue Hood is coming now!"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And we watch from the window while she goes by,<br>
+She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And a fearless look in her long&#8209;lashed eye;<br>
+And a certain dignity wedded to grace,<br>
+Seems to envelop her form and face.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Every morning, in sun or rain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She walks by the window with sweet, grave air,<br>
+And never guesses behind the pane<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We two are watching and thinking her fair;<br>
+Lovingly watching her down the street,<br>
+Dear little Blue Hood, bright and sweet.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Somebody ties that hood of blue<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Under the face so fair to see,<br>
+Somebody loves her, beside we two,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Somebody kisses her&#8212;why can't we?<br>
+Dear Little Blue Hood fresh and fair,<br>
+Are you glad we love you, or don't you care?<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="NO_SPRING"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 211]</span><h2>NO SPRING.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Up from the South come the birds that were banished,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Frightened away by the presence of frost.<br>
+Back to the vale comes the verdure that vanished,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Back to the forest the leaves that were lost.<br>
+Over the hillside the carpet of splendor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Folded through Winter, Spring spreads down again;<br>
+Along the horizon, the tints that were tender,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lost hues of Summer time, burn bright as then.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Only the mountains' high summits are hoary,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To the ice&#8209;fettered river the sun gives a key.<br>
+Once more the gleaming shore lists to the story<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Told by an amorous Summer&#8209;kissed sea.<br>
+All things revive that in Winter time perished,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The rose buds again in the light o' the sun,<br>
+All that was beautiful, all that was cherished,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Sweet things and dear things and all things&#8212;save one.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Late, when the year and the roses were lying<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Low with the ruins of Summer and bloom,<br>
+Down in the dust fell a love that was dying,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And the snow piled above it, and made it a tomb.<br>
+Lo! now! the roses are budded for blossom&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lo! now! the Summer is risen again.<br>
+Why dost thou bud not, O Love of my bosom?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Why dost thou rise not, and thrill me as then?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 212]</span>Life without love, is a year without Summer,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Heart without love, is a wood without song.<br>
+Rise then, revive then, thou indolent comer,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Why dost thou lie in the dark earth so long?<br>
+Rise! ah, thou canst not! the rose&#8209;tree that sheddest<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Its beautiful leaves, in the Spring time may bloom,<br>
+But of cold things the coldest, of dead things the deadest,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Love buried once, rises not from the tomb.<br>
+Green things may grow on the hillside and heather,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Birds seek the forest and build there and sing.<br>
+All things revive in the beautiful weather,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But unto a dead love there cometh no Spring.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="LIPPO"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>LIPPO.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Now we must part, my Lippo. Even so,<br>
+I grieve to see thy sudden pained surprise;<br>
+Gaze not on me with such accusing eyes&#8212;<br>
+'T was thine own hand which dealt dear Love's death&#8209;blow.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I loved thee fondly yesterday. Till then<br>
+Thy heart was like a covered golden cup<br>
+Always above my eager lip held up.<br>
+I fancied thou wert not as other men.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I knew that heart was filled with Love's sweet wine,<br>
+Pressed wholly for my drinking. And my lip<br>
+Grew parched with thirsting for one nectared sip<br>
+Of what, denied me, seemed a draught divine.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 213]</span>Last evening, in the gloaming, that cup spilled<br>
+Its precious contents. Even to the lees<br>
+Were offered to me, saying, "Drink of these!"<br>
+And when I saw it empty, Love was killed.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+No word was left unsaid, no act undone,<br>
+To prove to me thou wert my abject slave.<br>
+Ah, Love! hadst thou been wise enough to save<br>
+One little drop of that sweet wine&#8212;but one&#8212;<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I still had loved thee, longing for it then.<br>
+But even the cup is mine. I look within,<br>
+And find it holds not one last drop to win,<br>
+And cast it down.&#8212;Thou art as other men.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="MIDSUMMER"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>MIDSUMMER.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+After the May time, and after the June time<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet,<br>
+Cometh the round world's royal noon time,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The red midsummer of blazing heat.<br>
+When the sun, like an eye that never closes,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Bends on the earth its fervid gaze,<br>
+And the winds are still, and the crimson roses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Droop and wither and die in its rays.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Unto my heart has come that season,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;O my lady, my worshiped one,<br>
+When over the stars of Pride and Reason<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Sails Love's cloudless, noonday sun.<br>
+Like a great red ball in my bosom burning<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 214]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;With fires that nothing can quench or tame.<br>
+It glows till my heart itself seems turning<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Into a liquid lake of flame.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The hopes half shy, and the sighs all tender,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The dreams and fears of an earlier day,<br>
+Under the noontide's royal splendor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Droop like roses and wither away.<br>
+From the hills of doubt no winds are blowing,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;From the isle of pain no breeze is sent.<br>
+Only the sun in a white heat glowing<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Over an ocean of great content.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Die, O my heart, in thy rapture&#8209;swoon,<br>
+For the Autumn must come with its mournful story,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And Love's midsummer will fade too soon.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="A_REMINISCENCE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>A REMINISCENCE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+I saw the wild honey&#8209;bee kissing a rose<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;A wee one, that grows<br>
+Down low on the bush, where her sisters above<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Cannot see all that's done<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;As the moments roll on.<br>
+Nor hear all the whispers and murmurs of love.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+They flaunt out their beautiful leaves in the sun,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And they flirt, every one,<br>
+With the wild bees who pass, and the gay butterflies.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 215]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And that wee thing in pink&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Why, they never once think<br>
+That she's won a lover right under their eyes.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+It reminded me, Kate, of a time&#8212;you know when!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;You were so petite then,<br>
+Your dresses were short, and your feet were so small.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Your sisters, Maud&#8209;Belle<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And Madeline&#8212;well,<br>
+They <i>both</i> set their caps for me, after that ball.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+How the blue eyes and black eyes smiled up in my face!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;'T was a neck&#8209;and&#8209;neck race,<br>
+Till that day when you opened the door in the hall,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And looked up and looked down,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;With your sweet eyes of brown,<br>
+And <i>you</i> seemed so tiny, and <i>I</i> felt so tall.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Your sisters had sent you to keep me, my dear,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Till they should appear.<br>
+Then you were dismissed like a child in disgrace.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;How meekly you went!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But your brown eyes, they sent<br>
+A thrill to my heart, and a flush to my face.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+We always were meeting some way after that.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;You hung up my hat,<br>
+And got it again, when I finished my call.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Sixteen, and <i>so</i> sweet!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Oh, those cute little feet!<br>
+Shall I ever forget how they tripped down the hall?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 216]</span>Shall I ever forget the first kiss by the door,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Or the vows murmured o'er,<br>
+Or the rage and surprise of Maud&#8209;Belle? Well&#8209;a&#8209;day,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;How swiftly time flows,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And who would suppose<br>
+That a <i>bee</i> could have carried me so far away.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="RESPITE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>RESPITE.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+The mighty conflict, which we call existence,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Doth wear upon the body and the soul.<br>
+Our vital forces wasted in resistance,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So much there is to conquer and control.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The rock which meets the billows with defiance.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Undaunted and unshaken day by day,<br>
+In spite of its unyielding self&#8209;reliance,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Is by the warfare surely worn away.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+And there are depths and heights of strong emotions<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That surge at times within the human breast,<br>
+More fierce than all the tides of all the oceans<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Which sweep on ever in divine unrest.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I sometimes think the rock worn with adventures,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And sad with thoughts of conflicts yet to be,<br>
+Must envy the frail reed which no one censures,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When overcome 'tis swallowed by the sea.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 217]</span>This life is all resistance and repression,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Dear God, if in that other world unseen,<br>
+Not rest, we find, but new life and progression,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Grant us a respite in the grave between.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="A_GIRLS_FAITH"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>A GIRL'S FAITH.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Across the miles that stretch between,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Through days of gloom or glad sunlight,<br>
+There shines a face I have not seen<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Which yet doth make my world more bright.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+He may be near, he may be far,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or near or far I cannot see,<br>
+But faithful as the morning star<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He yet shall rise and come to me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+What though fate leads us separate ways,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The world is round, and time is fleet.<br>
+A journey of a few brief days,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And face to face we two shall meet.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Shall meet beneath God's arching skies,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;While suns shall blaze, or stars shall gleam,<br>
+And looking in each other's eyes<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Shall hold the past but as a dream.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But round and perfect and complete,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Life like a star shall climb the height,<br>
+As we two press with willing feet<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Together toward the Infinite.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 218]</span>And still behind the space between,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As back of dawns the sunbeams play,<br>
+There shines the face I have not seen,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Whose smile shall wake my world to Day.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="TWO"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>TWO.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+One leaned on velvet cushions like a queen&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To see him pass, the hero of an hour,<br>
+Whom men called great. She bowed with languid mien,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And smiled, and blushed, and knew her beauty's power.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+One trailed her tinseled garments through the street,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And thrust aside the crowd, and found a place<br>
+So near, the blooded courser's praning feet<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Cast sparks of fire upon her painted face.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+One took the hot&#8209;house blossoms from her breast,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And tossed them down, as he went riding by.<br>
+And blushed rose&#8209;red to see them fondly pressed<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To bearded lips, while eye spoke unto eye.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+One, bold and hardened with her sinful life,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Yet shrank and shivered painfully, because<br>
+His cruel glance cut keener than a knife,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The glance of him who made her what she was.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 219]</span>One was observed, and lifted up to fame,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Because the hero smiled upon her! while<br>
+One who was shunned and hated, found her shame<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In basking in the death&#8209;light of his smile.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="SLIPPING_AWAY"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>SLIPPING AWAY.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Slipping away&#8212;slipping away!<br>
+Out of our brief year slips the May;<br>
+And Winter lingers, and Summer flies;<br>
+And Sorrow abideth, and Pleasure dies;<br>
+And the days are short, and the nights are long;<br>
+And little is right, and much is wrong.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Slipping away is the Summer time;<br>
+It has lost its rhythm and lilting rhyme&#8212;<br>
+For the grace goes out of the day so soon,<br>
+And the tired head aches in the glare of noon,<br>
+And the way seems long to the hills that lie<br>
+Under the calm of the western sky.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Slipping away are the friends whose worth<br>
+Lent a glow to the sad old earth:<br>
+One by one they slip from our sight;<br>
+One by one their graves gleam white;<br>
+Or we count them lost by the crueler death<br>
+Of a trust betrayed, or a murdered faith.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Slipping away are the hopes that made<br>
+Bliss out of sorrow, and sun out of shade.<br>
+Slipping away is our hold on life.<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 220]</span>And out of the struggle and wearing strife,<br>
+From joys that diminish, and woes that increase,<br>
+We are slipping away to the shores of Peace.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="IS_IT_DONE"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>IS IT DONE?</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+It is done! in the fire's fitful flashes,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The last line has withered and curled.<br>
+In a tiny white heap of dead ashes<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Lie buried the hopes of your world.<br>
+There were mad foolish vows in each letter,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It is well they have shriveled and burned,<br>
+And the ring! oh, the ring was a fetter,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It was better removed and returned.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But ah, is it done? in the embers<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where letters and tokens were cast,<br>
+Have you burned up the heart that remembers,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And treasures its beautiful past?<br>
+Do you think in this swift reckless fashion<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To ruthlessly burn and destroy<br>
+The months that were freighted with passion,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The dreams that were drunken with joy?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Can you burn up the rapture of kisses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That flashed from the lips to the soul?<br>
+Or the heart that grows sick for lost blisses<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;In spite of its strength of control?<br>
+Have you burned up the touch of warm fingers<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That thrilled through each pulse and each vein,<br>
+Or the sound of a voice that still lingers<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And hurts with a haunting refrain?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 221]</span>Is it done? is the life drama ended?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;You have put all the lights out, and yet,<br>
+Though the curtain, rung down, has descended,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Can the actors go home and forget?<br>
+Ah, no! they will turn in their sleeping<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With a strange restless pain in their hearts,<br>
+And in darkness, and anguish and weeping,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Will dream they are playing their parts.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="A_LEAF"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>A LEAF.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That you were married, or soon to be.<br>
+I have not thought of you, I believe,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Since last we parted. Let me see:<br>
+Five long Summers have passed since then&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Each has been pleasant in its own way&#8212;<br>
+And you are but one of a dozen men<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Who have played the suitor a Summer day.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+But, nevertheless, when I heard your name,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Coupled with some one's, not my own,<br>
+There burned in my bosom a sudden flame,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That carried me back to the day that is flown.<br>
+I was sitting again by the laughing brook,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;With you at my feet, and the sky above,<br>
+And my heart was fluttering under your look&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The unmistakable look of Love.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 222]</span>Again your breath, like a South wind, fanned<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;My cheek, where the blushes came and went;<br>
+And the tender clasp of your strong, warm hand<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Sudden thrills through my pulses sent.<br>
+Again you were mine by Love's own right&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Mine forever by Love's decree:<br>
+So for a moment it seemed last night,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When somebody mentioned your name to me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Just for the moment I thought you mine&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Loving me, wooing me, as of old.<br>
+The tale remembered seemed half divine&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Though I held it lightly enough when told.<br>
+The past seemed fairer than when it was near,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As "Blessings brighten when taking flight;"<br>
+And just for the moment I held you dear&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;When somebody mentioned your name last night.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="AESTHETIC"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>AESTHETIC.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+In a garb that was guiltless of colors<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She stood, with a dull, listless air&#8212;<br>
+A creature of dumps and of dolors,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But most undeniably fair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The folds of her garment fell round her,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Revealing the curve of each limb;<br>
+Well proportioned and graceful I found her,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Although quite alarmingly slim.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 223]</span>From the hem of her robe peeped one sandal&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"High art" was she down to her feet;<br>
+And though I could not understand all<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;She said, I could see she was sweet.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Impressed by her limpness and languor,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I proffered a chair near at hand;<br>
+She looked back a mild sort of anger&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Posed anew, and continued to stand.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Some praises I next tried to mutter<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of the fan that she held to her face;<br>
+She said it was "utterly utter,"<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And waved it with languishing grace.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I then, in a strain quite poetic,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Begged her gaze on the bow in the sky,<br>
+She looked&#8212;said its curve was "&#230;sthetic."<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But the "tone was too dreadfully high."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Her lovely face, lit by the splendor<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That glorified landscape and sea,<br>
+Woke thoughts that were daring and tender:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Did <i>her</i> thoughts, too, rest upon me?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"Oh, tell me," I cried, growing bolder,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Have I in your musings a place?"<br>
+"Well, yes," she said over her shoulder:<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"I was thinking of nothing in space."<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="POEMS_OF_THE_WEEK"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 224]</span><h2>POEMS OF THE WEEK.</h2>
+
+<a name="SUNDAY"></a>
+
+<h4>SUNDAY.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Lie still and rest, in that serene repose<br>
+That on this holy morning comes to those<br>
+Who have been burdened with the cares which make<br>
+The sad heart weary and the tired head ache.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Lie still and rest&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;God's day of all is best.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="MONDAY"></a>
+
+<h4>MONDAY.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy dreams!<br>
+Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.<br>
+"As Monday goes, so goes the week," dames say.<br>
+Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And see! thy neighbor<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Already seeks his labor.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="TUESDAY"></a>
+
+<h4>TUESDAY.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Another morning's banners are unfurled&#8212;<br>
+Another day looks smiling on the world.<br>
+It holds new laurels for thy soul to win:<br>
+Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Nor sad, away,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Send it to yesterday.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="WEDNESDAY"></a>
+
+<h4>WEDNESDAY.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Half&#8209;way unto the end&#8212;the week's high noon.<br>
+The morning hours do speed away so soon!<br>
+And, when the noon is reached, however bright,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 225]</span>Instinctively we look toward the night.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;The glow is lost<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Once the meridian crost.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="THURSDAY"></a>
+
+<h4>THURSDAY.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+So well the week has sped, hast thou a friend<br>
+Go spend an hour in converse. It will lend<br>
+New beauty to thy labors and thy life<br>
+To pause a little sometimes in the strife.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Toil soon seems rude<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;That has no interlude.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="FRIDAY"></a>
+
+<h4>FRIDAY.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray;<br>
+Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day,<br>
+Neglect no labor and no duty shirk:<br>
+Not many hours are left thee for thy work&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And it were meet<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;That all should be complete.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="SATURDAY"></a>
+
+<h4>SATURDAY.</h4>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Now with the almost finished task make haste;<br>
+So near the night thou hast no time to waste.<br>
+Post up accounts, and let thy Soul's eyes look<br>
+For flaws and errors in Life's ledger&#8209;book.<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;When labors cease,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;How sweet the sense of peace!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="GHOSTS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 226]</span><h2>GHOSTS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;There are ghosts in the room.<br>
+As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;They come out of the gloom,<br>
+And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;There's the ghost of a Hope<br>
+That lighted my days with a fanciful glow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;In her hand is the rope<br>
+That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But her ghost comes to&#8209;night,<br>
+With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And it stands in the light,<br>
+And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;There's the ghost of a Joy,<br>
+A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;And the hands that destroy<br>
+Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;There's the ghost of a Love,<br>
+Born with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;But he towers above<br>
+All the others&#8212;this ghost: yet a ghost at the best.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 227]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;I am weary, and fain<br>
+Would forget all these dead: but the gibbering host<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;&#160;Make my struggle in vain,<br>
+In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="FLEEING_AWAY"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>FLEEING AWAY.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Higher and higher on soul&#8209;lent wings;<br>
+But ever and often, and more and more<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;They are dragged down earthward by little things,<br>
+By little troubles and little needs,<br>
+As a lark might be tangled among the weeds.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+My purpose is not what it ought to be,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Steady and fixed, like a star on high,<br>
+But more like a fisherman's light at sea;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hither and thither it seems to fly&#8212;<br>
+Sometimes feeble, and sometimes bright,<br>
+Then suddenly lost in the gloom of night.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+My life is far from my dream of life&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Calmly contented, serenely glad;<br>
+But, vexed and worried by daily strife,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;It is always troubled, and ofttimes sad&#8212;<br>
+And the heights I had thought I should reach one day<br>
+Grow dimmer and dimmer, and farther away.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+My heart finds never the longed&#8209;for rest;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Its worldly striving, its greed for gold,<br>
+Chilled and frightened the calm&#8209;eyed guest,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 228]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;Who sometimes sought me in days of old;<br>
+And ever fleeing away from me<br>
+Is the higher self that I long to be.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="ALL_MAD"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>ALL MAD.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+"He is mad as a hare, poor fellow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And should be in chains," you say.<br>
+I haven't a doubt of your statement,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But who isn't mad, I pray?<br>
+Why, the world is a great asylum,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And people are all insane,<br>
+Gone daft with pleasure or folly,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Or crazed with passion and pain.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The infant who shrieks at a shadow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The child with his Santa Claus faith,<br>
+The woman who worships Dame Fashion,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Each man with his notions of death,<br>
+The miser who hoards up his earnings,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The spendthrift who wastes them too soon,<br>
+The scholar grown blind in his delving,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The lover who stares at the moon.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+The poet who thinks life a p&#230;an,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The cynic who thinks it a fraud,<br>
+The youth who goes seeking for pleasure,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;The preacher who dares talk of God,<br>
+All priests with their creeds and their croaking,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;All doubters who dare to deny,<br>
+The gay who find aught to wake laughter,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 229]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;The sad who find aught worth a sigh,<br>
+Whoever is downcast or solemn,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Whoever is gleeful and glad,<br>
+Are only the dupes of delusions&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;We are all of us&#8212;all of us mad.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="HIDDEN_GEMS"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>HIDDEN GEMS.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+We know not what lies in us, till we seek;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Men dive for pearls&#8212;they are not found on shore,<br>
+The hillsides most unpromising and bleak<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Do sometimes hide the ore.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Go, dive in the vast ocean of thy mind,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;O man! far down below the noisy waves,<br>
+Down in the depths and silence thou mayst find<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Rare pearls and coral caves.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Sink thou a shaft into the mine of thought;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Be patient, like the seekers after gold;<br>
+Under the rocks and rubbish lieth what<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;May bring thee wealth untold.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Reflected from the vasty Infinite,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;However dulled by earth, each human mind<br>
+Holds somewhere gems of beauty and of light<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Which, seeking, thou shalt find.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="BY-AND-BY"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 230]</span><h2> BY&#8209;AND&#8209;BY.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+"By&#8209;and&#8209;by," the maiden sighed&#8212;"by&#8209;and&#8209;by<br>
+He will claim me for his bride,<br>
+Hope is strong and time is fleet;<br>
+Youth is fair, and love is sweet,<br>
+Clouds will pass that fleck my sky.<br>
+He will come back by&#8209;and&#8209;by&#8212;by&#8209;and&#8209;by."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"By&#8209;and&#8209;by," the soldier said&#8212;"by&#8209;and&#8209;by,<br>
+After I have fought and bled,<br>
+I shall go home from the wars,<br>
+Crowned with glory, seamed with scars.<br>
+Joy will flash from some one's eye<br>
+When she greets me by&#8209;and&#8209;by&#8212;by&#8209;and&#8209;by."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+"By&#8209;and&#8209;by," the mother cried&#8212;"by&#8209;and&#8209;by,<br>
+Strong and sturdy at my side,<br>
+Like a staff supporting me,<br>
+Will my bonnie baby be.<br>
+Break my rest, then, wail and cry&#8212;<br>
+Thou'lt repay me by&#8209;and&#8209;by&#8212;by&#8209;and&#8209;by."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Fleeting years of time have sped&#8212;hurried by&#8212;<br>
+Still the maiden is unwed;<br>
+All unknown the soldier lies,<br>
+Buried under alien skies;<br>
+And the son, with blood&#8209;shot eye<br>
+Saw his mother starve and die.<br>
+God in Heaven! dost Thou on high,<br>
+Keep the promised by&#8209;and&#8209;by&#8212;by&#8209;and&#8209;by?<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="OVER_THE_MAY_HILL"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 231]</span><h2>OVER THE MAY HILL.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+All through the night time, and all through the day time,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Dreading the morning and dreading the night,<br>
+Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Season of beauty and season of blight,<br>
+Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere,<br>
+Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are cheery,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens,<br>
+Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Too well I know what that weariness means.<br>
+But how could I know in the crisp winter weather<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;(Though sometimes I noticed a catch in your breath),<br>
+Riding and singing and dancing together,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How could I know you were racing with death?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+How could I know when we danced until morning,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And you were the gayest of all the gay crowd&#8212;<br>
+With only that shortness of breath for a warning,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How could I know that you danced for a shroud?<br>
+Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight,<br>
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 232]</span>&#160;&#160;&#160;Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave,<br>
+Down in your eyes shone a deep light&#8212;a far light,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;How could I know 'twas the light to your grave?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom,<br>
+Cometh the shape and the shadow I'm fearing,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Over the May hill" is waiting your tomb.<br>
+The season of mirth and of music is over&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song,<br>
+Under the violets, under the clover,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;My heart and my love will be lying ere long.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="A_SONG"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<h2>A SONG.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Is any one sad in the world, I wonder?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Does any one weep on a day like this,<br>
+With the sun above, and the green earth under?<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?<br>
+
+<br>
+
+With the sun, and the skies, and the birds above me,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Birds that sing as they wheel and fly&#8212;<br>
+With the winds to follow and say they love me&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Who could be lonely? O ho, not I!<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Somebody said, in the street this morning,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As I opened my window to let in the light,<br>
+That the darkest day of the world was dawning;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 233]</span>One who claims that he knows about it<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin;<br>
+But I and the bees and the birds&#8212;we doubt it,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And think it a world worth living in.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Some one says that hearts are fickle,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That love is sorrow, that life is care,<br>
+And the reaper Death, with his shining sickle,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Gathers whatever is bright and fair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I told the thrush, and we laughed together,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Laughed till the woods were all a&#8209;ring:<br>
+And he said to me, as he plumed each feather,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"Well, people must croak, if they cannot sing."<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Up he flew, but his song, remaining,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Rang like a bell in my heart all day,<br>
+And silenced the voices of weak complaining,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;That pipe like insects along the way.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+O world of light, and O world of beauty!<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Where are there pleasures so sweet as thine?<br>
+Yes, life is love, and love is duty;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And what heart sorrows? O no, not mine!<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="FOES"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 234]</span><h2>FOES.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;As valued friends. He cannot know<br>
+The zest of life who runneth here<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;His earthly race without a foe.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I saw a prize. "Run," cried my friend;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;"'Tis thine to claim without a doubt."<br>
+But ere I half&#8209;way reached the end,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I felt my strength was giving out.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+My foe looked on the while I ran;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;A scornful triumph lit his eyes.<br>
+With that perverseness born in man,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I nerved myself, and won the prize.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+All blinded by the crimson glow<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Of sin's disguise, I tempted Fate.<br>
+"I knew thy weakness!" sneered my foe,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I saved myself, and balked his hate.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+For half my blessings, half my gain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;I needs must thank my trusty foe;<br>
+Despite his envy and disdain,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He serves me well where'er I go.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+So may I keep him to the end,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Nor may his enmity abate:<br>
+More faithful than the fondest friend,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;He guards me ever with his hate.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+<br>
+
+<a name="FRIENDSHIP"></a>
+
+<hr>
+
+<span class='pagenum'>[Pg 235]</span><h2>FRIENDSHIP.</h2>
+
+<blockquote><blockquote>
+Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Thy strong regard for me,<br>
+Make me no vows. Lip&#8209;service is not loving;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Let thy faith speak for thee.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Swear not to me that nothing can divide us&#8212;<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;So little such oaths mean.<br>
+But when distrust and envy creep beside us<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Let them not come between.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Say not to me the depths of thy devotion<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Are deeper than the sea;<br>
+But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Embitter them for me.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+Vow not to love me ever and forever,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Words are such idle things;<br>
+But when we differ in opinions, never<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Hurt me by little stings.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+I'm sick of words: they are so lightly spoken,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;And spoken, are but air.<br>
+I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;Than list thy words so fair.<br>
+
+<br>
+
+If all the little proofs of trust are heeded,<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;If thou art always kind,<br>
+No sacrifice, no promise will be needed<br>
+&#160;&#160;&#160;To satisfy my mind.<br>
+</blockquote></blockquote>
+
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" noshade>
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Maurine and Other Poems, by Ella Wheeler
+Wilcox
+
+
+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: Maurine and Other Poems
+
+
+Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+
+
+
+Release Date: August 16, 2008  [eBook #26333]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MAURINE AND OTHER POEMS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Chris Curnow, Christina, Joseph Cooper, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+MAURINE AND OTHER POEMS
+
+by
+
+ELLA WHEELER WILCOX
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+W. B. Conkey Company
+Chicago
+
+Copyright, 1888
+by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
+
+
+
+
+_I step across the mystic border-land,_
+_And look upon the wonder-world of Art._
+_How beautiful, how beautiful its hills!_
+_And all its valleys, how surpassing fair!_
+
+_The winding paths that lead up to the heights_
+_Are polished by the footsteps of the great._
+_The mountain-peaks stand very near to God:_
+_The chosen few whose feet have trod thereon_
+_Have talked with Him, and with the angels walked._
+
+_Here are no sounds of discord--no profane_
+_Or senseless gossip of unworthy things--_
+_Only the songs of chisels and of pens._
+_Of busy brushes, and ecstatic strains_
+_Of souls surcharged with music most divine._
+_Here is no idle sorrow, no poor grief_
+_For any day or object left behind--_
+_For time is counted precious, and herein_
+_Is such complete abandonment of Self_
+_That tears turn into rainbows, and enhance_
+_The beauty of the land where all is fair._
+
+_Awed and afraid, I cross the border-land._
+_Oh, who am I, that I dare enter here_
+_Where the great artists of the world have trod--_
+_The genius-crowned aristocrats of Earth?_
+_Only the singer of a little song;_
+_Yet loving Art with such a mighty love_
+_I hold it greater to have won a place_
+_Just on the fair land's edge, to make my grave,_
+_Than in the outer world of greed and gain_
+_To sit upon a royal throne and reign._
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  Maurine                             9
+  Two Sunsets                       122
+  Unrest                            124
+  "Artist's Life"                   125
+  Nothing but Stones                126
+  The Coquette                      128
+  Inevitable                        129
+  The Ocean of Song                 130
+  "It Might Have Been"              132
+  If                                132
+  Gethsemane                        134
+  Dust-Sealed                       135
+  "Advice"                          136
+  Over the Banisters                137
+  Momus, God of Laughter            138
+  I Dream                           140
+  The Past                          141
+  The Sonnet                        142
+  Secrets                           142
+  A Dream                           143
+  Uselessness                       143
+  Will                              144
+  Winter Rain                       145
+  Applause                          145
+  Life                              146
+  Burdened                          146
+  The Story                         147
+  Let Them Go                       148
+  The Engine                        149
+  Nothing New                       151
+  Dreams                            152
+  Helena                            153
+  Nothing Remains                   155
+  Lean Down                         156
+  Comrades                          157
+  What Gain?                        158
+  Life                              159
+  To the West                       160
+  The Land of Content               161
+  A Song of Life                    163
+  Warning                           164
+  The Christian's New Year Prayer   164
+  In the Night                      166
+  God's Measure                     167
+  A March Snow                      167
+  After the Battles are Over        168
+  Noblesse Oblige                   174
+  And They Are Dumb                 175
+  Night                             177
+  All for Me                        178
+  Philosophy                        179
+  "Carlos"                          180
+  The Two Glasses                   182
+  Through Tears                     184
+  Into Space                        185
+  Through Dim Eyes                  187
+  La Mort d'Amour                   188
+  The Punished                      189
+  Half Fledged                      190
+  Love's Sleep                      191
+  True Culture                      192
+  The Voluptuary                    193
+  The Year                          194
+  The Unattained                    195
+  In the Crowd                      196
+  Life and I                        198
+  Guerdon                           199
+  Snowed Under                      200
+  Platonic                          201
+  What We Need                      203
+  "Leudemann's-on-the-River"        204
+  In the Long Run                   206
+  Plea to Science                   207
+  Love's Burial                     208
+  Little Blue Hood                  209
+  No Spring                         211
+  Lippo                             212
+  Midsummer                         213
+  A Reminiscence                    214
+  Respite                           216
+  A Girl's Faith                    217
+  Two                               218
+  Slipping Away                     219
+  Is it Done?                       220
+  A Leaf                            221
+  AEsthetic                          222
+  Poems of the Week                 224
+  Ghosts                            226
+  Fleeing Away                      227
+  All Mad                           228
+  Hidden Gems                       229
+  By-and-By                         230
+  Over the May Hill                 231
+  A Song                            232
+  Foes                              234
+  Friendship                        235
+
+
+
+
+MAURINE
+
+
+_PART I._
+
+I sat and sewed, and sang some tender tune,
+Oh, beauteous was that morn in early June!
+Mellow with sunlight, and with blossoms fair:
+The climbing rose-tree grew about me there,
+And checked with shade the sunny portico
+Where, morns like this, I came to read, or sew.
+
+I heard the gate click, and a firm quick tread
+Upon the walk. No need to turn my head;
+I would mistake, and doubt my own voice sounding,
+Before his step upon the gravel bounding.
+In an unstudied attitude of grace,
+He stretched his comely form; and from his face
+He tossed the dark, damp curls; and at my knees,
+With his broad hat he fanned the lazy breeze,
+And turned his head, and lifted his large eyes,
+Of that strange hue we see in ocean dyes,
+And call it blue sometimes, and sometimes green
+And save in poet eyes, not elsewhere seen.
+
+"Lest I should meet with my fair lady's scorning,
+For calling quite so early in the morning,
+I've brought a passport that can never fail,"
+He said, and, laughing, laid the morning mail
+Upon my lap. "I'm welcome? so I thought!
+I'll figure by the letters that I brought
+How glad you are to see me. Only one?
+And that one from a lady? I'm undone!
+That, lightly skimmed, you'll think me _such_ a bore,
+And wonder why I did not bring you four.
+It's ever thus: a woman cannot get
+So many letters that she will not fret
+O'er one that did not come."
+                         "I'll prove you wrong,"
+I answered gayly, "here upon the spot!
+This little letter, precious if not long,
+Is just the one, of all you might have brought,
+To please me. You have heard me speak, I'm sure,
+Of Helen Trevor: she writes here to say
+She's coming out to see me; and will stay
+Till Autumn, maybe. She is, like her note,
+Petite and dainty, tender, loving, pure.
+You'd know her by a letter that she wrote,
+For a sweet tinted thing. 'Tis always so:--
+Letters all blots, though finely written, show
+A slovenly person. Letters stiff and white
+Bespeak a nature honest, plain, upright.
+And tissuey, tinted, perfumed notes, like this,
+Tell of a creature formed to pet and kiss."
+
+My listener heard me with a slow, odd smile;
+Stretched in abandon at my feet, the while,
+He fanned me idly with his broad-brimmed hat.
+"Then all young ladies must be formed for that!"
+He laughed, and said.
+                         "Their letters read, and look,
+As like as twenty copies of one book.
+They're written in a dainty, spider scrawl,
+To 'darling, precious Kate,' or 'Fan,' or 'Moll.'
+The 'dearest, sweetest' friend they ever had.
+They say they 'want to see you, oh, so bad!'
+Vow they'll 'forget you, never, _never_, oh!'
+And then they tell about a splendid beau--
+A lovely hat--a charming dress, and send
+A little scrap of this to every friend.
+And then to close, for lack of something better,
+They beg you'll 'read and burn this horrid letter.'"
+
+He watched me, smiling. He was prone to vex
+And hector me with flings upon my sex.
+He liked, he said, to have me flash and frown,
+So he could tease me, and then laugh me down.
+My storms of wrath amused him very much:
+He liked to see me go off at a touch;
+Anger became me--made my color rise,
+And gave an added luster to my eyes.
+So he would talk--and so he watched me now,
+To see the hot flush mantle cheek and brow.
+
+Instead, I answered coolly, with a smile,
+Felling a seam with utmost care, meanwhile.
+"The caustic tongue of Vivian Dangerfield
+Is barbed as ever, for my sex, this morn.
+Still unconvinced, no smallest point I yield.
+Woman I love, and trust, despite your scorn.
+There is some truth in what you say? Well, yes!
+Your statements usually hold more or less.
+Some women write weak letters--(some men do;)
+Some make professions, knowing them untrue.
+And woman's friendship, in the time of need,
+I own, too often proves a broken reed.
+But I believe, and ever will contend,
+Woman can be a sister woman's friend,
+Giving from out her large heart's bounteous store
+A living love--claiming to do no more
+Than, through and by that love, she knows she can;
+And living by her professions, _like a man_.
+And such a tie, true friendship's silken tether,
+Binds Helen Trevor's heart and mine together.
+I love her for her beauty, meekness, grace;
+For her white lily soul and angel face.
+She loves me, for my greater strength, may be;
+Loves--and would give her heart's best blood for me
+And I, to save her from a pain, or cross,
+Would suffer any sacrifice or loss.
+Such can be woman's friendship for another.
+Could man give more, or ask more from a brother?"
+
+I paused: and Vivian leaned his massive head
+Against the pillar of the portico,
+Smiled his slow, skeptic smile, then laughed, and said:
+"Nay, surely not--if what you say be so.
+You've made a statement, but no proof's at hand.
+Wait--do not flash your eyes so! Understand
+I think you quite sincere in what you say:
+You love your friend, and she loves you, to-day;
+But friendship is not friendship at the best
+Till circumstances put it to the test.
+Man's, less demonstrative, stands strain and tear,
+While woman's, half profession, fails to wear.
+Two women love each other passing well--
+Say Helen Trevor and Maurine La Pelle,
+Just for example.
+                         Let them daily meet
+At ball and concert, in the church and street,
+They kiss and coo, they visit, chat, caress;
+Their love increases, rather than grows less;
+And all goes well, till 'Helen dear' discovers
+That 'Maurine darling' wins too many lovers.
+
+And then her 'precious friend,' her 'pet,' her 'sweet,'
+Becomes a 'minx,' a 'creature all deceit.'
+Let Helen smile too oft on Maurine's beaux,
+Or wear more stylish or becoming clothes,
+Or sport a hat that has a longer feather--
+And lo! the strain has broken 'friendship's tether.'
+Maurine's sweet smile becomes a frown or pout;
+'She's just begun to find that Helen out'
+The breach grows wider--anger fills each heart;
+They drift asunder, whom 'but death could part.'
+You shake your head? Oh, well, we'll never know!
+It is not likely Fate will test you so.
+You'll live, and love; and, meeting twice a year,
+While life shall last, you'll hold each other dear.
+I pray it may be so; it were not best
+To shake your faith in woman by the test.
+Keep your belief, and nurse it while you can.
+I've faith in woman's friendship too--for man!
+They're true as steel, as mothers, friends, and wives:
+And that's enough to bless us all our lives.
+That man's a selfish fellow, and a bore,
+Who is unsatisfied, and asks for more."
+
+"But there is need of more!" I here broke in.
+"I hold that woman guilty of a sin,
+Who would not cling to, and defend another,
+As nobly as she would stand by a brother.
+Who would not suffer for a sister's sake,
+And, were there need to prove her friendship, make
+'Most any sacrifice, nor count the cost.
+Who would not do this for a friend is lost
+To every nobler principle."
+                         "Shame, shame!"
+Cried Vivian, laughing, "for you now defame
+The whole sweet sex; since there's not one would do
+The thing you name, nor would I want her to.
+I love the sex. My mother was a woman--
+I hope my wife will be, and wholly human.
+And if she wants to make some sacrifice,
+I'll think her far more sensible and wise
+To let her husband reap the benefit,
+Instead of some old maid or senseless chit.
+Selfish? Of course! I hold all love is so:
+And I shall love my wife right well, I know.
+Now there's a point regarding selfish love,
+You thirst to argue with me, and disprove.
+But since these cosy hours will soon be gone
+And all our meetings broken in upon,
+No more of these rare moments must be spent
+In vain discussions, or in argument.
+I wish Miss Trevor was in--Jericho!
+(You see the selfishness begins to show.)
+She wants to see you?--So do I: but she
+Will gain her wish, by taking you from me.
+'Come all the same?' that means I'll be allowed
+To realize that 'three can make a crowd.'
+I do not like to feel myself _de trop_.
+With two girl cronies would I not be so?
+My ring would interrupt some private chat.
+You'd ask me in and take my cane and hat,
+And speak about the lovely summer day,
+And think--'The lout! I wish he'd kept away.'
+Miss Trevor'd smile, but just to hide a pout
+And count the moments till I was shown out.
+And, while I twirled my thumbs, I would sit wishing
+That I had gone off hunting birds, or fishing.
+No, thanks, Maurine! The iron hand of Fate,
+(Or otherwise Miss Trevor's dainty fingers,)
+Will bar my entrance into Eden's gate;
+And I shall be like some poor soul that lingers
+At heaven's portal, paying the price of sin,
+Yet hoping to be pardoned and let in."
+
+He looked so melancholy sitting there,
+I laughed outright. "How well you act a part;
+You look the very picture of despair!
+You've missed your calling, sir! suppose you start
+Upon a starring tour, and carve your name
+With Booth's and Barrett's on the heights of Fame.
+But now, tabooing nonsense, I shall send
+For you to help me entertain my friend,
+Unless you come without it. 'Cronies?' True,
+Wanting our 'private chats' as cronies do
+And we'll take those, while you are reading Greek,
+Or writing 'Lines to Dora's brow' or 'cheek.'
+But when you have an hour or two of leisure,
+Call as you now do, and afford like pleasure.
+For never yet did heaven's sun shine on,
+Or stars discover, that phenomenon,
+In any country, or in any clime:
+Two maids so bound, by ties of mind and heart.
+They did not feel the heavy weight of time
+In weeks of scenes wherein no man took part.
+God made the sexes to associate:
+Nor law of man, nor stern decree of Fate,
+Can ever undo what His hand has done,
+And, quite alone, make happy either one.
+My Helen is an only child:--a pet
+Of loving parents: and she never yet
+Has been denied one boon for which she pleaded.
+A fragile thing, her lightest wish was heeded.
+Would she pluck roses? they must first be shorn,
+By careful hands, of every hateful thorn.
+And loving eyes must scan the pathway where
+Her feet may tread, to see no stones are there.
+She'll grow dull here, in this secluded nook,
+Unless you aid me in the pleasant task
+Of entertaining. Drop in with your book--
+Read, talk, sing for her sometimes. What I ask,
+Do once, to please me: then there'll be no need
+For me to state the case again, or plead.
+There's nothing like a woman's grace and beauty
+To waken mankind to a sense of duty."
+
+"I bow before the mandate of my queen:
+Your slightest wish is law, Ma Belle Maurine,"
+He answered smiling, "I'm at your command;
+Point but one lily finger, or your wand,
+And you will find a willing slave obeying.
+There goes my dinner bell! I hear it saying
+I've spent two hours here, lying at your feet,
+Not profitable, maybe--surely sweet.
+All time is money; now were I to measure
+The time I spend here by its solid pleasure,
+And that were coined in dollars, then I've laid
+Each day a fortune at your feet, fair maid.
+There goes that bell again! I'll say good-bye,
+Or clouds will shadow my domestic sky.
+I'll come again, as you would have me do,
+And see your friend, while she is seeing you.
+That's like by proxy being at a feast;
+Unsatisfactory, to say the least."
+
+He drew his fine shape up, and trod the land
+With kingly grace. Passing the gate, his hand
+He lightly placed the garden wall upon,
+Leaped over like a leopard, and was gone.
+
+And, going, took the brightness from the place,
+Yet left the June day with a sweeter grace,
+And my young soul so steeped in happy dreams,
+Heaven itself seemed shown to me in gleams.
+There is a time with lovers, when the heart
+First slowly rouses from its dreamless sleep,
+To all the tumult of a passion life,
+Ere yet have wakened jealousy and strife.
+Just as a young, untutored child will start
+Out of a long hour's slumber, sound and deep,
+And lie and smile with rosy lips, and cheeks,
+In a sweet, restful trance, before it speaks.
+A time when yet no word the spell has broken,
+Save what the heart unto the soul has spoken,
+In quickened throbs, and sighs but half suppressed.
+A time when that sweet truth, all unconfessed,
+Gives added fragrance to the summer flowers,
+A golden glory to the passing hours,
+A hopeful beauty to the plainest face,
+And lends to life a new and tender grace.
+
+When the full heart has climbed the heights of bliss,
+And, smiling, looks back o'er the golden past,
+I think it finds no sweeter hour than this
+In all love-life. For, later, when the last
+Translucent drop o'erflows the cup of joy,
+And love, more mighty than the heart's control,
+Surges in words of passion from the soul,
+And vows are asked and given, shadows rise
+Like mists before the sun in noonday skies,
+Vague fears, that prove the brimming cup's alloy;
+A dread of change--the crowning moment's curse,
+Since what is perfect, change but renders worse:
+A vain desire to cripple Time, who goes
+Bearing our joys away, and bringing woes.
+And later, doubts and jealousies awaken.
+And plighted hearts are tempest-tossed, and shaken.
+Doubt sends a test, that goes a step too far,
+A wound is made, that, healing, leaves a scar,
+Or one heart, full with love's sweet satisfaction,
+Thinks truth once spoken always understood,
+While one is pining for the tender action
+And whispered word by which, of old, 'twas wooed.
+
+But this blest hour, in love's glad, golden day,
+Is like the dawning, ere the radiant ray
+Of glowing Sol has burst upon the eye,
+But yet is heralded in earth and sky,
+Warm with its fervor, mellow with its light,
+While Care still slumbers in the arms of night.
+But Hope, awake, hears happy birdlings sing,
+And thinks of all a summer day may bring.
+
+In this sweet calm, my young heart lay at rest,
+Filled with a blissful sense of peace; nor guessed
+That sullen clouds were gathering in the skies
+To hide the glorious sun, ere it should rise.
+
+
+_PART II._
+
+To little birds that never tire of humming
+About the garden, in the summer weather,
+Aunt Ruth compared us, after Helen's coming,
+As we two roamed, or sat and talked together.
+Twelve months apart, we had so much to say
+Of school days gone--and time since passed away;
+Of that old friend, and this; of what we'd done;
+Of how our separate paths in life had run;
+Of what we would do, in the coming years;
+Of plans and castles, hopes and dreams and fears.
+All these, and more, as soon as we found speech,
+We touched upon, and skimmed from this to that
+But at the first, each only gazed on each,
+And, dumb with joy, that did not need a voice
+Like lesser joys, to say, "Lo! I rejoice,"
+With smiling eyes and clasping hands we sat
+Wrapped in that peace, felt but with those dear,
+Contented just to know each other near.
+But when this silent eloquence gave place
+To words, 'twas like the rising of a flood
+Above a dam. We sat there, face to face,
+And let our talk glide on where'er it would,
+Speech never halting in its speed or zest,
+Save when our rippling laughter let it rest;
+Just as a stream will sometimes pause and play
+About a bubbling spring, then dash away.
+No wonder, then, the third day's sun was nigh
+Up to the zenith when my friend and I
+Opened our eyes from slumber long and deep:
+Nature demanding recompense for hours
+Spent in the portico, among the flowers,
+Halves of two nights we should have spent in sleep.
+
+So this third day, we breakfasted at one:
+Then walked about the garden in the sun,
+Hearing the thrushes and the robins sing,
+And looking to see what buds were opening.
+
+The clock chimed three, and we yet strayed at will
+About the yard in morning dishabille,
+When Aunt Ruth came, with apron o'er her head,
+Holding a letter in her hand, and said,
+"Here is a note, from Vivian I opine;
+At least his servant brought it. And now, girls,
+You may think this is no concern of mine,
+But in my day young ladies did not go,
+Till almost bed-time roaming to and fro
+In morning wrappers, and with tangled curls,
+The very pictures of forlorn distress.
+'Tis three o'clock, and time for you to dress.
+Come! read your note and hurry in, Maurine,
+And make yourself fit object to be seen."
+
+Helen was bending o'er an almond bush,
+And ere she looked up I had read the note,
+And calmed my heart, that, bounding, sent a flush
+To brow and cheek, at sight of aught _he_ wrote.
+"Ma Belle Maurine:" (so Vivian's billet ran,)
+"Is it not time I saw your cherished guest?
+'Pity the sorrows of a poor young man,'
+Banished from all that makes existence blest.
+I'm dying to see--your friend; and I will come
+And pay respects, hoping you'll be at home
+To-night at eight. Expectantly, V. D."
+
+Inside my belt I slipped the billet, saying,
+"Helen, go make yourself most fair to see:
+Quick! hurry now! no time for more delaying!
+In just five hours a caller will be here,
+And you must look your prettiest, my dear!
+Begin your toilet right away. I know
+How long it takes you to arrange each bow--
+To twist each curl, and loop your skirts aright.
+And you must prove you are _au fait_ to-night,
+And make a perfect toilet: for our caller
+Is man, and critic, poet, artist, scholar,
+And views with eyes of all."
+                         "Oh, oh! Maurine,"
+Cried Helen with a well-feigned look of fear,
+"You've frightened me so I shall not appear:
+I'll hide away, refusing to be seen
+By such an ogre. Woe is me! bereft
+Of all my friends, my peaceful home I've left,
+And strayed away into the dreadful wood
+To meet the fate of poor Red Riding Hood.
+No, Maurine, no! you've given me such a fright,
+I'll not go near your ugly wolf to-night."
+
+Meantime we'd left the garden; and I stood
+In Helen's room, where she had thrown herself
+Upon a couch, and lay, a winsome elf,
+Pouting and smiling, cheek upon her arm,
+Not in the least a portrait of alarm.
+"Now sweet!" I coaxed, and knelt by her, "be good!
+Go curl your hair; and please your own Maurine,
+By putting on that lovely grenadine.
+Not wolf, nor ogre, neither Caliban,
+Nor Mephistopheles, you'll meet to-night,
+But what the ladies call 'a nice young man'!
+Yet one worth knowing--strong with health and might
+Of perfect manhood; gifted, noble, wise;
+Moving among his kind with loving eyes,
+And helpful hand; progressive, brave, refined,
+After the image of his Maker's mind."
+
+"Now, now, Maurine!" cried Helen, "I believe
+It is your lover coming here this eve.
+Why have you never written of him, pray?
+Is the day set?--and when? Say, Maurine, say!"
+
+Had I betrayed by some too fervent word
+The secret love that all my being stirred?
+My lover? Ay! My heart proclaimed him so;
+But first _his_ lips must win the sweet confession,
+Ere even Helen be allowed to know.
+I must straightway erase the slight impression
+Made by the words just uttered.
+                         "Foolish child!"
+I gayly cried, "your fancy's straying wild.
+Just let a girl of eighteen hear the name
+Of maid and youth uttered about one time,
+And off her fancy goes, at break-neck pace,
+Defying circumstances, reason, space--
+And straightway builds romances so sublime
+They put all Shakespeare's dramas to the shame.
+This Vivian Dangerfield is neighbor, friend
+And kind companion; bringing books and flowers.
+And, by his thoughtful actions without end,
+Helping me pass some otherwise long hours;
+But he has never breathed a word of love.
+If you still doubt me, listen while I prove
+My statement by the letter that he wrote.
+'Dying to meet--my friend!' (she could not see
+The dash between that meant so much to me.)
+'Will come this eve, at eight, and hopes we may
+Be in to greet him.' Now I think you'll say
+'Tis not much like a lover's tender note."
+
+We laugh, we jest, not meaning what we say;
+We hide our thoughts, by light words lightly spoken,
+And pass on heedless, till we find one day
+They've bruised our hearts, or left some other broken.
+
+I sought my room, and trilling some blithe air,
+Opened my wardrobe, wondering what to wear.
+Momentous question! femininely human!
+More than all others, vexing mind of woman,
+Since that sad day, when in her discontent,
+To search for leaves, our fair first mother went.
+All undecided what I should put on,
+At length I made selection of a lawn--
+White, with a tiny pink vine overrun:--
+My simplest robe, but Vivian's favorite one.
+And placing a single flowret in my hair,
+I crossed the hall to Helen's chamber, where
+I found her with her fair locks all let down,
+Brushing the kinks out, with a pretty frown.
+'T was like a picture, or a pleasing play,
+To watch her make her toilet. She would stand,
+And turn her head first this and then that way,
+Trying effect of ribbon, bow or band.
+Then she would pick up something else, and curve
+Her lovely neck, with cunning, bird-like grace,
+And watch the mirror while she put it on,
+With such a sweetly grave and thoughtful face;
+And then to view it all would sway, and swerve
+Her lithe young body, like a graceful swan.
+
+Helen was over medium height, and slender
+Even to frailty. Her great, wistful eyes
+Were like the deep blue of autumnal skies;
+And through them looked her soul, large, loving, tender.
+Her long, light hair was lusterless, except
+Upon the ends, where burnished sunbeams slept,
+And on the earlocks; and she looped the curls
+Back with a shell comb, studded thick with pearls,
+Costly yet simple. Her pale loveliness,
+That night, was heightened by her rich, black dress,
+That trailed behind her, leaving half in sight
+Her taper arms, and shoulders marble white.
+
+I was not tall as Helen, and my face
+Was shaped and colored like my grandsire's race;
+For through his veins my own received the warm,
+Red blood of southern France, which curved my form,
+And glowed upon my cheek in crimson dyes,
+And bronzed my hair, and darkled in my eyes.
+And as the morning trails the skirts of night,
+And dusky night puts on the garb of morn,
+And walk together when the day is born,
+So we two glided down the hall and stair,
+Arm clasping arm, into the parlor, where
+Sat Vivian, bathed in sunset's gorgeous light.
+He rose to greet us. Oh! his form was grand;
+And he possessed that power, strange, occult,
+Called magnetism, lacking better word,
+Which moves the world, achieving great result
+Where genius fails completely. Touch his hand,
+It thrilled through all your being--meet his eye,
+And you were moved, yet knew not how, or why.
+Let him but rise, you felt the air was stirred
+By an electric current.
+
+                         This strange force
+Is mightier than genius. Rightly used,
+It leads to grand achievements; all things yield
+Before its mystic presence, and its field
+Is broad as earth and heaven. But abused,
+It sweeps like a poison simoon on its course
+Bearing miasma in its scorching breath,
+And leaving all it touches struck with death.
+
+Far-reaching science shall yet tear away
+The mystic garb that hides it from the day,
+And drag it forth and bind it with its laws,
+And make it serve the purposes of men,
+Guided by common sense and reason. Then
+We'll hear no more of seance, table-rapping,
+And all that trash, o'er which the world is gaping,
+Lost in effect, while science seeks the cause.
+
+Vivian was not conscious of his power:
+Or, if he was, knew not its full extent.
+He knew his glance would make a wild beast cower,
+And yet he knew not that his large eyes sent
+Into the heart of woman the same thrill
+That made the lion servant of his will.
+And even strong men felt it.
+
+                         He arose,
+Reached forth his hand, and in it clasped my own,
+While I held Helen's; and he spoke some word
+Of pleasant greeting in his low, round tone,
+Unlike all other voices I have heard.
+Just as the white cloud, at the sunrise, glows
+With roseate colors, so the pallid hue
+Of Helen's cheek, like tinted sea-shells grew.
+Through mine, his hand caused hers to tremble; such
+Was the all-mast'ring magic of his touch.
+
+Then we sat down, and talked about the weather,
+The neighborhood--some author's last new book.
+But, when I could, I left the two together
+To make acquaintance, saying I must look
+After the chickens--my especial care;
+And ran away, and left them, laughing, there.
+
+Knee-deep, through clover, to the poplar grove,
+I waded, where my pets were wont to rove:
+And there I found the foolish mother hen
+Brooding her chickens underneath a tree,
+An easy prey for foxes. "Chick-a-dee,"
+Quoth I, while reaching for the downy things
+That, chirping, peeped from out the mother-wings,
+"How very human is your folly! When
+There waits a haven, pleasant, bright, and warm,
+And one to lead you thither from the storm
+And lurking dangers, yet you turn away.
+And, thinking to be your own protector, stray
+Into the open jaws of death: for, see!
+An owl is sitting in this very tree
+You thought safe shelter. Go now to your pen."
+And, followed by the clucking, clamorous hen,
+So like the human mother here again,
+Moaning because a strong, protecting arm
+Would shield her little ones from cold and harm,
+I carried back my garden hat brimful
+Of chirping chickens, like white balls of wool,
+And snugly housed them.
+                         And just then I heard
+A sound like gentle winds among the trees,
+Or pleasant waters in the Summer, stirred
+And set in motion by a passing breeze.
+'T was Helen singing: and, as I drew near,
+Another voice, a tenor full and clear,
+Mingled with hers, as murmuring streams unite,
+And flow on stronger in their wedded might.
+It was a way of Helen's, not to sing
+The songs that other people sang. She took
+Sometimes an extract from an ancient book;
+Again some floating, fragmentary thing
+And such she fitted to old melodies,
+Or else composed the music. One of these
+She sang that night; and Vivian caught the strain,
+And joined her in the chorus, or refrain,
+
+  SONG.
+
+    O thou, mine other, stronger part!
+      Whom yet I cannot hear, or see,
+    Come thou, and take this loving heart,
+      That longs to yield its all to thee,
+      I call mine own--Oh, come to me!
+      Love, answer back, I come to thee,
+                         I come to thee.
+
+    This hungry heart, so warm, so large,
+      Is far too great a care for me.
+    I have grown weary of the charge
+      I keep so sacredly for thee.
+      Come thou, and take my heart from me.
+      Love, answer back, I come to thee,
+                         I come to thee.
+
+    I am aweary, waiting here
+      For one who tarries long from me.
+    O! art thou far, or art thou near?
+      And must I still be sad for thee?
+      Or wilt thou straightway come to me?
+      Love, answer, I am near to thee,
+                         I come to thee.
+
+The melody, so full of plaintive chords,
+Sobbed into silence--echoing down the strings
+Like voice of one who walks from us, and sings.
+Vivian had leaned upon the instrument
+The while they sang. But, as he spoke those words,
+"Love, I am near to thee, I come to thee,"
+He turned his grand head slowly round, and bent
+His lustrous, soulful, speaking gaze on me.
+And my young heart, eager to own its king,
+Sent to my eyes a great, glad, trustful light
+Of love and faith, and hung upon my cheek
+Hope's rose-hued flag. There was no need to speak.
+I crossed the room, and knelt by Helen. "Sing
+That song you sang a fragment of one night,
+Out on the porch, beginning, 'Praise me not,'"
+I whispered: and her sweet and plaintive tone
+Rose, low and tender, as if she had caught
+From some sad passing breeze, and made her own,
+The echo of the wind-harp's sighing strain,
+Or the soft music of the falling rain.
+
+  SONG.
+
+    O praise me not with your lips, dear one!
+      Though your tender words I prize.
+    But dearer by far is the soulful gaze
+      Of your eyes, your beautiful eyes,
+                         Your tender, loving eyes.
+
+    O chide me not with your lips, dear one!
+      Though I cause your bosom sighs.
+    You can make repentance deeper far
+      By your sad, reproving eyes,
+                         Your sorrowful, troubled eyes.
+
+    Words, at the best, are but hollow sounds;
+      Above, in the beaming skies,
+    The constant stars say never a word,
+      But only smile with their eyes--
+                         Smile on with their lustrous eyes.
+
+    Then breathe no vow with your lips, dear one;
+      On the winged wind speech flies.
+    But I read the truth of your noble heart
+      In your soulful, speaking eyes--
+                         In your deep and beautiful eyes.
+
+The twilight darkened 'round us, in the room,
+While Helen sang; and, in the gathering gloom,
+Vivian reached out, and took my hand in his,
+And held it so; while Helen made the air
+Languid with music. Then a step drew near,
+And voice of Aunt Ruth broke the spell:
+                         "Dear! dear!
+Why Maurie, Helen, children! how is this?
+I hear you, but you have no light in there.
+Your room is dark as Egypt. What a way
+For folks to visit!--Maurie, go, I pray,
+And order lamps."
+                         And so there came a light,
+And all the sweet dreams hovering around
+The twilight shadows flitted in affright:
+And e'en the music had a harsher sound.
+
+In pleasant converse passed an hour away:
+And Vivian planned a picnic for next day--
+A drive the next, and rambles without end,
+That he might help me entertain my friend.
+And then he rose, bowed low, and passed from sight,
+Like some great star that drops out from the night;
+And Helen watched him through the shadows go,
+And turned and said, her voice subdued and low,
+"How tall he is! in all my life, Maurine,
+A grander man I never yet have seen."
+
+
+_PART III._
+
+One golden twelfth-part of a checkered year;
+One summer month, of sunlight, moonlight, mirth
+With not a hint of shadows lurking near,
+Or storm-clouds brewing.
+
+                         'T was a royal day:
+Voluptuous July held her lover, Earth,
+With her warm arms, upon her glowing breast,
+And twined herself about him, as he lay
+Smiling and panting in his dream-stirred rest.
+She bound him with her limbs of perfect grace,
+And hid him with her trailing robe of green,
+And wound him in her long hair's shimmering sheen,
+And rained her ardent kisses on his face.
+
+Through the glad glory of the summer land
+Helen and I went wandering, hand in hand.
+In winding paths, hard by the ripe wheat-field,
+White with the promise of a bounteous yield,
+Across the late shorn meadow--down the hill,
+Red with the tiger-lily blossoms, till
+We stood upon the borders of the lake,
+That like a pretty, placid infant, slept
+Low at its base: and little ripples crept
+Along its surface, just as dimples chase
+Each other o'er an infant's sleeping face
+
+Helen in idle hours had learned to make
+A thousand pretty, feminine knick-knacks:
+For brackets, ottomans, and toilet stands--
+Labor just suited to her dainty hands.
+That morning she had been at work in wax,
+Molding a wreath of flowers for my room,--
+Taking her patterns from the living blows,
+In all their dewy beauty and sweet bloom,
+Fresh from my garden. Fuchsia, tulip, rose,
+And trailing ivy, grew beneath her touch,
+Resembling the living plants as much
+As life is copied in the form of death:
+These lacking but the perfume, and that, breath.
+
+And now the wreath was all completed, save
+The mermaid blossom of all flowerdom,
+A water-lily, dripping from the wave.
+And 'twas in search of it that we had come
+Down to the lake, and wandered on the beach,
+To see if any lilies grew in reach.
+Some broken stalks, where flowers late had been;
+Some buds, with all their beauties folded in,
+We found, but not the treasure that we sought
+And then we turned our footsteps to the spot
+Where, all impatient of its chain, my boat,
+"The Swan," rocked, asking to be set afloat
+It was a dainty row-boat--strong, yet light;
+Each side a swan was painted snowy white:
+A present from my uncle, just before
+He sailed, with Death, to that mysterious strand,
+Where freighted ships go sailing evermore,
+But none return to tell us of the land.
+
+I freed the "Swan," and slowly rowed about,
+Wherever sea-weeds, grass, or green leaves lifted
+Their tips above the water. So we drifted,
+While Helen, opposite, leaned idly out
+And watched for lilies in the waves below,
+And softly crooned some sweet and dreamy air,
+That soothed me like a mother's lullabies.
+I dropped the oars, and closed my sun-kissed eyes,
+And let the boat go drifting here and there.
+Oh, happy day! the last of that brief time
+Of thoughtless youth, when all the world seems bright,
+Ere that disguised angel men call Woe
+Leads the sad heart through valleys dark as night,
+Up to the heights exalted and sublime.
+On each blest, happy moment, I am fain
+To linger long, ere I pass on to pain
+And sorrow that succeeded.
+
+                         From day-dreams,
+As golden as the summer noontide's beams,
+I was awakened by a voice that cried:
+"Strange ship, ahoy! Fair frigate, whither bound?"
+And, starting up, I cast my gaze around,
+And saw a sail-boat o'er the water glide
+Close to the "Swan," like some live thing of grace;
+And from it looked the glowing, handsome face
+Of Vivian.
+
+                         "Beauteous sirens of the sea,
+Come sail across the raging main with me!"
+He laughed; and leaning, drew our drifting boat
+Beside his own. "There, now! step in!" he said,
+"I'll land you anywhere you want to go--
+My boat is safer far than yours, I know:
+And much more pleasant with its sails all spread.
+The Swan? We'll take the oars, and let it float
+Ashore at leisure. You, Maurine, sit there--
+Miss Helen here. Ye gods and little fishes!
+I've reached the height of pleasure, and my wishes.
+Adieu despondency! farewell to care!"
+
+'T was done so quickly: that was Vivian's way.
+He did not wait for either yea or nay.
+He gave commands, and left you with no choice
+But just to do the bidding of his voice.
+His rare, kind smile, low tones, and manly face
+Lent to his quick imperiousness a grace
+And winning charm, completely stripping it
+Of what might otherwise have seemed unfit.
+Leaving no trace of tyranny, but just
+That nameless force that seemed to say, "You must."
+Suiting its pretty title of "The Dawn,"
+(So named, he said, that it might rhyme with "Swan,")
+Vivian's sail-boat, was carpeted with blue,
+While all its sails were of a pale rose hue.
+The daintiest craft that flirted with the breeze;
+A poet's fancy in an hour of ease.
+
+Whatever Vivian had was of the best.
+His room was like some Sultan's in the East.
+His board was always spread as for a feast.
+Whereat, each meal, he was both host and guest.
+He would go hungry sooner than he'd dine
+At his own table if 'twere illy set.
+He so loved things artistic in design--
+Order and beauty, all about him. Yet
+So kind he was, if it befell his lot
+To dine within the humble peasant's cot,
+He made it seem his native soil to be,
+And thus displayed the true gentility.
+
+Under the rosy banners of the "Dawn,"
+Around the lake we drifted on, and on.
+It was a time for dreams, and not for speech.
+And so we floated on in silence, each
+Weaving the fancies suiting such a day.
+Helen leaned idly o'er the sail-boat's side,
+And dipped her rosy fingers in the tide;
+And I among the cushions half reclined,
+Half sat, and watched the fleecy clouds at play
+While Vivian with his blank-book, opposite,
+In which he seemed to either sketch or write
+Was lost in inspiration of some kind.
+
+No time, no change, no scene, can e'er efface
+My mind's impression of that hour and place;
+It stands out like a picture. O'er the years,
+Black with their robes of sorrow--veiled with tears,
+Lying with all their lengthened shapes between,
+Untouched, undimmed, I still behold that scene.
+Just as the last of Indian-summer days,
+Replete with sunlight, crowned with amber haze,
+Followed by dark and desolate December,
+Through all the months of winter we remember.
+
+The sun slipped westward. That peculiar change
+Which creeps into the air, and speaks of night
+While yet the day is full of golden light,
+We felt steal o'er us.
+                         Vivian broke the spell
+Of dream-fraught silence, throwing down his book:
+"Young ladies, please allow me to arrange
+These wraps about your shoulders. I know well
+The fickle nature of our atmosphere,--
+Her smile swift followed by a frown or tear,--
+And go prepared for changes. Now you look,
+Like--like--oh, where's a pretty simile?
+Had you a pocket mirror here you'd see
+How well my native talent is displayed
+In shawling you. Red on the brunette maid;
+Blue on the blonde--and quite without design
+(Oh, where _is_ that comparison of mine?)
+Well--like a June rose and a violet blue
+In one bouquet! I fancy that will do.
+And now I crave your patience and a boon,
+Which is to listen, while I read my rhyme,
+A floating fancy of the summer time.
+'Tis neither witty, wonderful, nor wise,
+So listen kindly--but don't criticise
+My maiden effort of the afternoon:
+
+         "If all the ships I have at sea
+          Should come a-sailing home to me,
+          Ah, well! the harbor could not hold
+          So many sails as there would be
+          If all my ships came in from sea.
+
+         "If half my ships came home from sea,
+          And brought their precious freight to me,
+          Ah, well! I should have wealth as great
+          As any king who sits in state--
+          So rich the treasures that would be
+          In half my ships now out at sea.
+
+         "If just one ship I have at sea
+          Should come a-sailing home to me,
+          Ah, well! the storm-clouds then might frown:
+          For if the others all went down
+          Still rich and proud and glad I'd be,
+          If that one ship came back to me.
+
+         "If that one ship went down at sea,
+          And all the others came to me,
+          Weighed down with gems and wealth untold,
+          With glory, honor, riches, gold,
+          The poorest soul on earth I'd be
+          If that one ship came not to me.
+
+         "O skies be calm? O winds blow free--
+          Blow all my ships safe home to me.
+          But if thou sendest some a-wrack
+          To never more come sailing back,
+          Send any--all, that skim the sea,
+          But bring my love-ship home to me."
+
+Helen was leaning by me, and her head
+Rested against my shoulder: as he read,
+I stroked her hair, and watched the fleecy skies,
+And when he finished, did not turn my eyes.
+I felt too happy and too shy to meet
+His gaze just then. I said, "'Tis very sweet,
+And suits the day; does it not, Helen, dear?"
+But Helen, voiceless, did not seem to hear.
+"'Tis strange," I added, "how you poets sing
+So feelingly about the very thing
+You care not for! and dress up an ideal
+So well, it looks a living, breathing real!
+Now, to a listener, your love song seemed
+A heart's out-pouring; yet I've heard you say
+Almost the opposite; or that you deemed
+Position, honor, glory, power, fame,
+Gained without loss of conscience or good name,
+The things to live for."
+                         "Have you? Well you may,"
+Laughed Vivian, "but 'twas years--or months ago!
+And Solomon says wise men change, you know!
+I now speak truth! if she I hold most dear
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,
+My heart would find the years more lonely here.
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,
+And sent an exile to a foreign land."
+
+His voice was low, and measured: as he spoke,
+New, unknown chords of melody awoke
+Within my soul. I felt my heart expand
+With that sweet fullness born of love. I turned
+To hide the blushes on my cheek that burned,
+And leaning over Helen, breathed her name.
+She lay so motionless I thought she slept:
+But, as I spoke, I saw her eyes unclose,
+And o'er her face a sudden glory swept,
+And a slight tremor thrilled all through her frame.
+"Sweet friend," I said, "your face is full of light:
+What were the dreams that made your eyes so bright?"
+
+She only smiled for answer, and arose
+From her reclining posture at my side,
+Threw back the clust'ring ringlets from her face
+With a quick gesture, full of easy grace,
+And, turning, spoke to Vivian. "Will you guide
+The boat up near that little clump of green
+Off to the right? There's where the lilies grow.
+We quite forgot our errand here, Maurine,
+And our few moments have grown into hours.
+What will Aunt Ruth think of our ling'ring so?
+There--that will do--now I can reach the flowers."
+
+"Hark! just hear that!" and Vivian broke forth singing,
+"Row, brothers, row." "The six o'clock bell's ringing!
+Who ever knew three hours to go so fast
+In all the annals of the world, before?
+I could have sworn not over one had passed.
+Young ladies, I am forced to go ashore!
+I thank you for the pleasure you have given;
+This afternoon has been a glimpse of heaven.
+Good night--sweet dreams! and by your gracious leave,
+I'll pay my compliments to-morrow eve."
+
+A smile, a bow, and he had gone his way:
+And, in the waning glory of the day,
+Down cool, green lanes, and through the length'ning shadows,
+Silent, we wandered back across the meadows.
+The wreath was finished, and adorned my room;
+Long afterward, the lilies' copied bloom
+Was like a horrid specter in my sight,
+Staring upon me morning, noon, and night.
+
+The sun went down. The sad new moon rose up,
+And passed before me, like an empty cup,
+The Great Unseen brims full of pain or bliss,
+And gives His children, saying, "Drink of this."
+
+A light wind, from the open casement, fanned
+My brow and Helen's, as we, hand in hand,
+Sat looking out upon the twilight scene,
+In dreamy silence. Helen's dark blue eyes,
+Like two lost stars that wandered from the skies
+Some night adown the meteor's shining track,
+And always had been grieving to go back,
+Now gazed up, wistfully, at heaven's dome,
+And seemed to recognize and long for home.
+Her sweet voice broke the silence: "Wish, Maurine,
+Before you speak! you know the moon is new,
+And anything you wish for will come true
+Before it wanes. I do believe the sign!
+Now tell me your wish, and I'll tell you mine."
+
+I turned and looked up at the slim young moon;
+And, with an almost superstitious heart,
+I sighed, "Oh, new moon! help me, by thine art,
+To grow all grace and goodness, and to be
+Worthy the love a true heart proffers me."
+Then smiling down, I said, "Dear one! my boon,
+I fear, is quite too silly or too sweet
+For my repeating: so we'll let it stay
+Between the moon and me. But if I may
+I'll listen now to your wish. Tell me, please!"
+
+All suddenly she nestled at my feet,
+And hid her blushing face upon my knees.
+Then drew my hand against her glowing cheek,
+And, leaning on my breast, began to speak,
+Half sighing out the words my tortured ear
+Reached down to catch, while striving not to hear.
+
+"Can you not guess who 'twas about, Maurine?
+Oh, my sweet friend! you must ere this have seen
+The love I tried to cover from all eyes
+And from myself. Ah, foolish little heart!
+As well it might go seeking for some art
+Whereby to hide the sun in noonday skies.
+When first the strange sound of his voice I heard,
+Looked on his noble face, and touched his hand,
+My slumb'ring heart thrilled through and through, and stirred
+As if to say, 'I hear, and understand.'
+And day by day mine eyes were blest beholding
+The inner beauty of his life, unfolding
+In countless words and actions, that portrayed
+The noble stuff of which his soul was made.
+And more and more I felt my heart upreaching
+Toward the truth, drawn gently by his teaching,
+As flowers are drawn by sunlight. And there grew
+A strange, shy something in its depths, I knew
+At length was love, because it was so sad,
+And yet so sweet, and made my heart so glad,
+
+Yet seemed to pain me. Then, for very shame,
+Lest all should read my secret and its name.
+I strove to hide it in my breast away,
+Where God could see it only. But each day
+It seemed to grow within me, and would rise,
+Like my own soul, and look forth from my eyes,
+Defying bonds of silence; and would speak,
+In its red-lettered language, on my cheek,
+If but his name was uttered. You were kind,
+My own Maurine! as you alone could be,
+So long the sharer of my heart and mind,
+While yet you saw, in seeming not to see.
+In all the years we have been friends, my own.
+And loved as women very rarely do,
+My heart no sorrow and no joy has known
+It has not shared at once, in full, with you
+And I so longed to speak to you of this,
+When first I felt its mingled pain and bliss;
+Yet dared not, lest you, knowing him, should say,
+In pity for my folly--'Lack-a-day!
+You are undone: because no mortal art
+Can win the love of such a lofty heart.'
+And so I waited, silent and in pain,
+Till I could know I did not love in vain.
+And now I know, beyond a doubt or fear.
+Did he not say, 'If she I hold most dear
+Slipped from my life, and no least hope were left,
+My heart would find the years more lonely here
+Than if I were of wealth, fame, friends, bereft,
+And sent, an exile, to a foreign land'?
+Oh, darling, you must _love_, to understand
+The joy that thrilled all through me at those words.
+It was as if a thousand singing birds
+Within my heart broke forth in notes of praise.
+I did not look up, but I knew his gaze
+Was on my face, and that his eyes must see
+The joy I felt almost transfigured me.
+He loves me--loves me! so the birds kept singing,
+And all my soul with that sweet strain is ringing.
+If there were added but one drop of bliss,
+No more my cup would hold: and so, this eve,
+I made a wish that I might feel his kiss
+Upon my lips, ere yon pale moon should leave
+The stars all lonely, having waned away,
+Too old and weak and bowed with care to stay."
+
+Her voice sighed into silence. While she spoke
+My heart writhed in me, praying she would cease--
+Each word she uttered falling like a stroke
+On my bare soul. And now a hush like death,
+Save that 'twas broken by a quick-drawn breath,
+Fell 'round me, but brought not the hoped-for peace.
+For when the lash no longer leaves its blows,
+The flesh still quivers, and the blood still flows.
+
+She nestled on my bosom like a child.
+And 'neath her head my tortured heart throbbed wild
+With pain and pity. She had told her tale--
+Her self-deceiving story to the end.
+How could I look down on her as she lay
+So fair, and sweet, and lily-like, and frail--
+A tender blossom on my breast, and say,
+"Nay, you are wrong--you do mistake, dear friend!
+'Tis I am loved, not you"? Yet that were truth,
+And she must know it later.
+                         Should I speak,
+And spread a ghastly pallor o'er the cheek
+Flushed now with joy?--And while I, doubting, pondered,
+She spoke again. "Maurine! I oft have wondered
+Why you and Vivian were not lovers. He
+Is all a heart could ask its king to be;
+And you have beauty, intellect and youth.
+I think it strange you have not loved each other--
+Strange how he could pass by you for another
+Not half so fair or worthy. Yet I know
+A loving Father pre-arranged it so.
+I think my heart has known him all these years,
+And waited for him. And if when he came
+It had been as a lover of my friend,
+I should have recognized him, all the same,
+As my soul-mate, and loved him to the end,
+Hiding my grief, and forcing back my tears
+Till on my heart, slow dropping, day by day,
+Unseen they fell, and wore it all away.
+And so a tender Father kept him free,
+With all the largeness of his love, for me--
+For me, unworthy such a precious gift!
+Yet I will bend each effort of my life
+To grow in grace and goodness, and to lift
+My soul and spirit to his lofty height,
+So to deserve that holy name, his wife.
+Sweet friend, it fills my whole heart with delight
+To breathe its long hid secret in your ear.
+Speak, my Maurine, and say you love to hear!"
+The while she spoke, my active brain gave rise
+To one great thought of mighty sacrifice
+And self-denial. Oh! it blanched my cheek,
+And wrung my soul; and from my heart it drove
+All life and feeling. Coward-like, I strove
+To send it from me; but I felt it cling
+And hold fast on my mind like some live thing;
+And all the Self within me felt its touch
+And cried, "No, no! I cannot do so much--
+I am not strong enough--there is no call."
+And then the voice of Helen bade me speak,
+And with a calmness born of nerve, I said,
+Scarce knowing what I uttered, "Sweetheart, all
+Your joys and sorrows are with mine own wed.
+I thank you for your confidence, and pray
+I may deserve it always. But, dear one,
+Something--perhaps our boat-ride in the sun,
+Has set my head to aching. I must go
+To bed directly; and you will, I know,
+Grant me your pardon, and another day
+We'll talk of this together. Now good night
+And angels guard you with their wings of light."
+
+I kissed her lips, and held her on my heart,
+And viewed her as I ne'er had done before.
+I gazed upon her features o'er and o'er;
+Marked her white, tender face--her fragile form,
+Like some frail plant that withers in the storm;
+Saw she was fairer in her new-found joy
+Than e'er before; and thought, "Can I destroy
+God's handiwork, or leave it at the best
+A broken harp, while I close clasp my bliss?"
+I bent my head and gave her one last kiss,
+And sought my room, and found there such relief
+As sad hearts feel when first alone with grief.
+
+The moon went down, slow sailing from my sight,
+And left the stars to watch away the night.
+O stars, sweet stars, so changeless and serene!
+What depths of woe your pitying eyes have seen!
+The proud sun sets, and leaves us with our sorrow,
+To grope alone in darkness till the morrow.
+The languid moon, e'en if she deigns to rise,
+Soon seeks her couch, grown weary of our sighs;
+But from the early gloaming till the day
+Sends golden-liveried heralds forth to say
+He comes in might; the patient stars shine on,
+Steadfast and faithful, from twilight to dawn.
+And, as they shone upon Gethsemane,
+And watched the struggle of a God-like soul,
+Now from the same far height they shone on me,
+And saw the waves of anguish o'er me roll.
+
+The storm had come upon me all unseen:
+No sound of thunder fell upon my ear;
+No cloud arose to tell me it was near;
+But under skies all sunlit, and serene,
+I floated with the current of the stream,
+And thought life all one golden-haloed dream.
+When lo! a hurricane, with awful force,
+Swept swift upon its devastating course,
+Wrecked my frail bark, and cast me on the wave
+Where all my hopes had found a sudden grave.
+Love makes us blind and selfish: otherwise
+I had seen Helen's secret in her eyes;
+So used I was to reading every look
+In her sweet face, as I would read a book.
+But now, made sightless by love's blinding rays,
+I had gone on unseeing, to the end
+Where Pain dispelled the mist of golden haze
+That walled me in, and lo! I found my friend
+Who journeyed with me--at my very side,
+Had been sore wounded to the heart, while I
+Both deaf and blind, saw not, nor heard her cry.
+And then I sobbed, "O God! I would have died
+To save her this." And as I cried in pain,
+There leaped forth from the still, white realm of Thought
+Where Conscience dwells, that unimpassioned spot
+As widely different from the heart's domain
+As north from south--the impulse felt before,
+And put away; but now it rose once more,
+In greater strength, and said, "Heart, would'st thou prove
+What lips have uttered? Then go lay thy love
+On Friendship's altar, as thy offering."
+"Nay!" cried my heart, "ask any other thing--
+Ask life itself--'twere easier sacrifice.
+But ask not love, for that I cannot give."
+
+"But," spoke the voice, "the meanest insect dies,
+And is no hero! heroes dare to live
+When all that makes life sweet is snatched away."
+So with my heart, in converse, till the day
+In gold and crimson billows, rose and broke,
+The voice of Conscience, all unwearied, spoke.
+Love warred with Friendship: heart with Conscience fought,
+Hours rolled away, and yet the end was not.
+And wily Self, tricked out like tenderness,
+Sighed, "Think how one, whose life thou wert to bless,
+Will be cast down, and grope in doubt and fear!
+Wouldst thou wound him, to give thy friend relief?
+Can wrong make right?"
+                         "Nay!" Conscience said, "but Pride
+And Time can heal the saddest hurts of Love.
+While Friendship's wounds gape wide and yet more wide,
+And bitter fountains of the spirit prove."
+
+At length, exhausted with the wearing strife,
+I cast the new-found burden of my life
+On God's broad breast, and sought that deep repose
+That only he who watched with sorrow knows.
+
+
+_PART IV._
+
+"Maurine, Maurine! 'tis ten o'clock! arise,
+My pretty sluggard! open those dark eyes,
+And see where yonder sun is! Do you know
+I made my toilet just four hours ago?"
+
+'T was Helen's voice: and Helen's gentle kiss
+Fell on my cheek. As from a deep abyss,
+I drew my weary self from that strange sleep
+That rests not, nor refreshes. Scarce awake
+Or conscious, yet there seemed a heavy weight
+Bound on my breast, as by a cruel Fate.
+I knew not why, and yet I longed to weep.
+Some dark cloud seemed to hang upon the day;
+And, for a moment, in that trance I lay,
+When suddenly the truth did o'er me break,
+Like some great wave upon a helpless child.
+The dull pain in my breast grew like a knife--
+The heavy throbbing of my heart grew wild,
+And God gave back the burden of the life
+He kept what time I slumbered.
+                         "You are ill,"
+Cried Helen, "with that blinding headache still!
+You look so pale and weary. Now let me
+Play nurse, Maurine, and care for you to-day!
+And first I'll suit some dainty to your taste,
+And bring it to you, with a cup of tea."
+And off she ran, not waiting my reply.
+But, wanting most the sunshine and the light,
+I left my couch, and clothed myself in haste,
+And, kneeling, sent to God an earnest cry
+For help and guidance.
+                         "Show Thou me the way,
+Where duty leads; for I am blind! my sight
+Obscured by self. Oh, lead my steps aright!
+Help me see the path: and if it may,
+Let this cup pass:--and yet Thou heavenly One
+Thy will in all things, not mine own, be done."
+Rising, I went upon my way, receiving
+The strength prayer gives alway to hearts believing.
+I felt that unseen hands were leading me,
+And knew the end was peace.
+                         "What! are you up?"
+Cried Helen, coming with a tray, and cup,
+Of tender toast, and fragrant smoking tea.
+"You naughty girl! you should have stayed in bed
+Until you ate your breakfast, and were better
+I've something hidden for you here--a letter.
+But drink your tea before you read it, dear!
+'Tis from some distant cousin, Auntie said,
+And so you need not hurry. Now be good,
+And mind your Helen."
+                        So, in passive mood,
+I laid the still unopened letter near,
+And loitered at my breakfast more to please
+My nurse, than any hunger to appease.
+Then listlessly I broke the seal and read
+The few lines written in a bold free hand:
+"New London, Canada. Dear Coz. Maurine!
+(In spite of generations stretched between
+Our natural right to that most handy claim
+Of cousinship, we'll use it all the same)
+I'm coming to see you! honestly, in truth!
+I've threatened often--now I mean to act.
+You'll find my coming is a stubborn fact.
+Keep quiet though, and do not tell Aunt Ruth
+I wonder if she'll know her petted boy
+In spite of changes. Look for me until
+You see me coming. As of old I'm still
+Your faithful friend, and loving cousin, Roy."
+
+So Roy was coming! He and I had played
+As boy and girl, and later, youth and maid,
+Full half our lives together. He had been,
+Like me, an orphan; and the roof of kin
+Gave both kind shelter. Swift years sped away
+Ere change was felt: and then one summer day
+A long lost uncle sailed from India's shore--
+Made Roy his heir, and he was ours no more.
+
+"He'd write us daily, and we'd see his face
+Once every year." Such was his promise given
+The morn he left. But now the years were seven
+Since last he looked upon the olden place.
+He'd been through college, traveled in all lands,
+Sailed over seas, and trod the desert sands.
+Would write and plan a visit, then, ere long,
+Would write again from Egypt or Hong Kong--
+Some fancy called him thither unforeseen.
+So years had passed, till seven lay between
+His going and the coming of this note,
+Which I hid in my bosom, and replied
+To Aunt Ruth's queries, "What the truant wrote?"
+By saying he was still upon the wing,
+And merely dropped a line, while journeying,
+To say he lived: and she was satisfied.
+
+Sometimes it happens, in this world so strange,
+A human heart will pass through mortal strife,
+And writhe in torture: while the old sweet life
+So full of hope, and beauty, bloom and grace,
+Is slowly strangled by remorseless Pain:
+And one stern, cold, relentless, takes its place--
+A ghastly, pallid specter of the slain.
+Yet those in daily converse see no change
+Nor dream the heart has suffered.
+                         So that day
+I passed along toward the troubled way
+Stern duty pointed, and no mortal guessed
+A mighty conflict had disturbed my breast.
+
+I had resolved to yield up to my friend
+The man I loved. Since she, too, loved him so
+I saw no other way in honor left.
+She was so weak and fragile, once bereft
+Of this great hope, that held her with such power
+She would wilt down, like some frost-bitten flower
+And swift untimely death would be the end.
+But I was strong: and hardy plants, which grow
+In out-door soil, can bear bleak winds that blow
+From Arctic lands, whereof a single breath
+Would lay the hot-house blossom low in death.
+
+The hours went by, too slow, and yet too fast.
+All day I argued with my foolish heart
+That bade me play the shrinking coward's part
+And hide from pain. And when the day had past
+And time for Vivian's call drew near and nearer,
+It pleaded. "Wait, until the way seems clearer:
+Say you are ill--or busy: keep away
+Until you gather strength enough to play
+The part you have resolved on."
+
+                         "Nay, not so,"
+Made answer clear-eyed Reason, "Do you go
+And put your resolution to the test.
+Resolve, however nobly formed, at best
+Is but a still born babe of Thought, until
+It proves existence of its life and will
+By sound or action."
+                         So when Helen came
+And knelt by me, her fair face all aflame
+With sudden blushes, whispering, "My sweet!
+My heart can hear the music of his feet--
+Go down with me to meet him," I arose,
+And went with her all calmly, as one goes
+To look upon the dear face of the dead.
+
+That eve, I know not what I did or said.
+I was not cold--my manner was not strange:
+Perchance I talked more freely than my wont,
+But in my speech was naught could give affront;
+Yet I conveyed, as only woman can,
+That nameless _something_, which bespeaks a change.
+
+'Tis in the power of woman, if she be
+Whole-souled and noble, free from coquetry--
+Her motives all unselfish, worthy, good,
+To make herself and feelings understood
+By nameless acts--thus sparing what to man,
+However gently answered, causes pain,
+The offering of his hand and heart in vain.
+
+She can be friendly, unrestrained, and kind,
+Assume no airs of pride or arrogance;
+But in her voice, her manner, and her glance,
+Convey that mystic something, undefined,
+Which men fail not to understand and read,
+And, when not blind with egoism, heed.
+My task was harder. 'T was the slow undoing
+Of long sweet months of unimpeded wooing.
+It was to hide and cover and conceal
+The truth--assuming, what I did not feel.
+It was to dam love's happy singing tide
+That blessed me with its hopeful, tuneful tone,
+By feigned indiff'rence, till it turned aside,
+And changed its channel, leaving me alone
+To walk parched plains, and thirst for that sweet draught
+My lips had tasted, but another quaffed.
+It could be done. For no words yet were spoken--
+None to recall--no pledges to be broken.
+"He will be grieved, then angry, cold, then cross,"
+I reasoned, thinking what would be his part
+In this strange drama. "Then, because his he
+Feels something lacking, to make good his loss,
+He'll turn to Helen: and her gentle grace
+And loving acts will win her soon the place
+I hold to-day: and like a troubled dream
+At length, our past, when he looks back, will seem."
+That evening passed with music, chat and song:
+But hours that once had flown on airy wings
+Now limped on weary, aching limbs along,
+Each moment like some dreaded step that brings
+A twinge of pain.
+                  As Vivian rose to go,
+Slow bending to me, from his greater height,
+He took my hand, and, looking in my eyes,
+With tender questioning and pained surprise,
+Said, "Maurine, you are not yourself to-night!
+What is it? Are you ailing?"
+                         "Ailing? no,"
+I answered, laughing lightly, "I am not:
+Just see my cheek, sir! is it thin, or pale?
+Now tell me, am I looking very frail?"
+"Nay, nay!" he answered, "it can not be _seen_,
+The change I speak of--'twas more in your mien:
+Preoccupation, or--I know not what!
+Miss Helen, am I wrong, or does Maurine
+Seem to have something on her mind this eve?"
+"She does!" laughed Helen, "and I do believe
+I know what 'tis! A letter came to-day
+Which she read slyly, and then hid away
+Close to her heart, not knowing I was near:
+And since she's been as you have seen her here.
+See how she blushes! so my random shot
+We must believe has struck a tender spot."
+
+Her rippling laughter floated through the room,
+And redder yet I felt the hot blood rise,
+Then surge away to leave me pale as death,
+Under the dark and swiftly gathering gloom
+Of Vivian's questioning, accusing eyes,
+That searched my soul. I almost shrieked beneath
+That stern, fixed gaze; and stood spellbound until
+He turned with sudden movement, gave his hand
+To each in turn, and said, "You must not stand
+Longer, young ladies, in this open door.
+The air is heavy with a cold damp chill.
+We shall have rain to-morrow, or before.
+Good night."
+                         He vanished in the darkling shade;
+And so the dreaded evening found an end,
+That saw me grasp the conscience-whetted blade,
+And strike a blow for honor and for friend.
+
+"How swiftly passed the evening!" Helen sighed.
+"How long the hours!" my tortured heart replied.
+Joy, like a child, with lightsome steps doth glide
+By Father Time, and, looking in his face,
+Cries, snatching blossoms from the fair road-side,
+"I could pluck more, but for thy hurried pace."
+The while her elder brother Pain, man grown,
+Whose feet are hurt by many a thorn and stone,
+Looks to some distant hill-top, high and calm,
+Where he shall find not only rest, but balm
+For all his wounds, and cries in tones of woe,
+"O Father Time! why is thy pace so slow?"
+
+Two days, all sad with lonely wind and rain,
+Went sobbing by, repeating o'er and o'er
+The miserere, desolate and drear,
+Which every human heart must sometime hear.
+Pain is but little varied. Its refrain,
+Whate'er the words are, is for aye the same.
+The third day brought a change: for with it came
+Not only sunny smiles to Nature's face,
+But Roy, our Roy came back to us. Once more
+We looked into his laughing, handsome eyes,
+Which, while they gave Aunt Ruth a glad surprise
+In no way puzzled her: for one glance told
+What each succeeding one confirmed, that he
+Who bent above her with the lissome grace
+Of his fine form, though grown so tall, could be
+No other than the Roy Montaine of old.
+
+It was a sweet reunion: and he brought
+So much of sunshine with him, that I caught,
+Just from his smile alone, enough of gladness
+To make my heart forget a time its sadness.
+We talked together of the dear old days:
+Leaving the present, with its depths and heights
+Of life's maturer sorrows and delights,
+I turned back to my childhood's level land,
+And Roy and I, dear playmates, hand in hand,
+Wandered in mem'ry, through the olden ways.
+
+It was the second evening of his coming.
+Helen was playing dreamily, and humming
+Some wordless melody of white-souled thought,
+While Roy and I sat by the open door,
+Re-living childish incidents of yore.
+My eyes were glowing, and my cheeks were hot
+With warm young blood; excitement, joy, or pain
+Alike would send swift coursing through each vein.
+Roy, always eloquent, was waxing fine,
+And bringing vividly before my gaze
+Some old adventure of those halcyon days,
+When suddenly in pauses of the talk,
+I heard a well-known step upon the walk,
+And looked up quickly to meet full in mine
+The eyes of Vivian Dangerfield. A flash
+Shot from their depths:--a sudden blaze of light
+Like that swift followed by the thunder's crash,
+Which said, "Suspicion is confirmed by sight,"
+As they fell on the pleasant door-way scene.
+Then o'er his clear-cut face, a cold white look
+Crept, like the pallid moonlight o'er a brook,
+And, with a slight, proud bending of the head,
+He stepped toward us haughtily and said,
+"Please pardon my intrusion, Miss Maurine:
+I called to ask Miss Trevor for a book
+She spoke of lending me: nay, sit you still!
+And I, by grant of your permission, will
+Pass by to where I hear her playing."
+                         "Stay!"
+I said, "one moment, Vivian, if you please;"
+And suddenly bereft of all my ease,
+And scarcely knowing what to do, or say,
+Confused as any school-girl, I arose,
+And some way made each to the other known
+They bowed, shook hands: then Vivian turned away
+And sought out Helen, leaving us alone.
+
+"One of Miss Trevor's, or of Maurine's beaux?
+Which may he be, who cometh like a prince
+With haughty bearing, and an eagle eye?"
+Roy queried, laughing: and I answered, "Since
+You saw him pass me for Miss Trevor's side,
+I leave your own good judgment to reply."
+
+And straightway caused the tide of talk to glide
+In other channels, striving to dispel
+The sudden gloom that o'er my spirit fell.
+
+We mortals are such hypocrites at best!
+When Conscience tries our courage with a test,
+And points to some steep pathway, we set out
+Boldly, denying any fear or doubt;
+But pause before the first rock in the way,
+And, looking back, with tears, at Conscience, say
+"We are so sad, dear Conscience! for we would
+Most gladly do what to thee seemeth good;
+But lo! this rock! we cannot climb it, so
+Thou must point out some other way to go."
+Yet secretly we are rejoicing: and,
+When right before our faces, as we stand
+In seeming grief, the rock is cleft in twain,
+Leaving the pathway clear, we shrink in pain!
+And loth to go, by every act reveal
+What we so tried from Conscience to conceal.
+
+I saw that hour, the way made plain, to do
+With scarce an effort, what had seemed a strife
+That would require the strength of my whole life.
+
+Women have quick perceptions: and I knew
+That Vivian's heart was full of jealous pain,
+Suspecting--nay _believing_ Roy Montaine
+To be my lover.--First my altered mien--
+And next the letter--then the door-way scene--
+My flushed face gazing in the one above
+That bent so near me, and my strange confusion
+When Vivian came, all led to one conclusion:
+That I had but been playing with his love,
+As women sometimes cruelly do play
+With hearts when their true lovers are away.
+
+There could be nothing easier, than just
+To let him linger on in this belief
+Till hourly-fed Suspicion and Distrust
+Should turn to scorn and anger all his grief.
+Compared with me, so doubly sweet and pure
+Would Helen seem, my purpose would be sure,
+And certain of completion in the end.
+But now, the way was made so straight and clear,
+My coward heart shrank back in guilty fear,
+Till Conscience whispered with her "still small voice,"
+"The precious time is passing--make thy choice--
+Resign thy love, or slay thy trusting friend."
+
+The growing moon, watched by the myriad eyes
+Of countless stars, went sailing through the skies,
+Like some young prince, rising to rule a nation,
+To whom all eyes are turned in expectation.
+A woman who possesses tact and art
+And strength of will can take the hand of doom,
+And walk on, smiling sweetly as she goes,
+With rosy lips, and rounded cheeks of bloom,
+Cheating a loud-tongued world that never knows
+The pain and sorrow of her hidden heart.
+And so I joined in Roy's bright changing chat;
+Answered his sallies--talked of this and that,
+My brow unruffled as the calm still wave
+That tells not of the wrecked ship, and the grave
+Beneath its surface.
+                         Then we heard, ere long,
+The sound of Helen's gentle voice in song,
+And, rising, entered where the subtle power
+Of Vivian's eyes, forgiving while accusing,
+Finding me weak, had won me, in that hour;
+But Roy, alway polite and debonair
+Where ladies were, now hung about my chair
+With nameless delicate attentions, using
+That air devotional, and those small arts
+Acquaintance with society imparts
+To men gallant by nature.
+                         'T was my sex
+And not myself he bowed to. Had my place
+Been filled that evening by a dowager,
+Twice his own age, he would have given her
+The same attentions. But they served to vex
+Whatever hope in Vivian's heart remained.
+The cold, white look crept back upon his face,
+Which told how deeply he was hurt and pained.
+
+Little by little all things had conspired,
+To bring events I dreaded, yet desired.
+We were in constant intercourse: walks, rides,
+Picnics and sails, filled weeks of golden weather,
+And almost hourly we were thrown together.
+No words were spoken of rebuke or scorn:
+Good friends we seemed. But as a gulf divides
+This land and that, though lying side by side,
+So rolled a gulf between us--deep and wide--
+The gulf of doubt, which widened slowly morn
+And noon and night.
+                         Free and informal were
+These picnics and excursions. Yet, although
+Helen and I would sometimes choose to go
+Without our escorts, leaving them quite free.
+It happened alway Roy would seek out me
+Ere passed the day, while Vivian walked with her.
+I had no thought of flirting. Roy was just
+Like some dear brother, and I quite forgot
+The kinship was so distant it was not
+Safe to rely upon in perfect trust,
+Without reserve or caution. Many a time
+When there was some steep mountain side to climb,
+And I grew weary, he would say, "Maurine,
+Come rest you here." And I would go and lean
+My head upon his shoulder, or would stand
+And let him hold in his my willing hand.
+The while he stroked it gently with his own.
+Or I would let him clasp me with his arm,
+Nor entertained a thought of any harm,
+Nor once supposed but Vivian was alone
+In his suspicions. But ere long the truth
+I learned in consternation! both Aunt Ruth
+And Helen, honestly, in faith believed
+That Roy and I were lovers.
+                         Undeceived,
+Some careless words might open Vivian's eyes
+And spoil my plans. So reasoning in this wise,
+To all their sallies I in jest replied,
+To naught assented, and yet naught denied,
+With Roy unchanged remaining, confident
+Each understood just what the other meant.
+
+If I grew weary of this double part,
+And self-imposed deception caused my heart
+Sometimes to shrink, I needed but to gaze
+On Helen's face: that wore a look ethereal,
+As if she dwelt above the things material
+And held communion with the angels. So
+I fed my strength and courage through the days.
+What time the harvest moon rose full and clear
+And cast its ling'ring radiance on the earth,
+We made a feast; and called from far and near,
+Our friends, who came to share the scene of mirth.
+Fair forms and faces flitted to and fro;
+But none more sweet than Helen's. Robed in white,
+She floated like a vision through the dance.
+So frailly fragile and so phantom fair,
+She seemed like some stray spirit of the air,
+And was pursued by many an anxious glance
+That looked to see her fading from the sight
+Like figures that a dreamer sees at night.
+
+And noble men and gallants graced the scene:
+Yet none more noble or more grand of mien
+Than Vivian--broad of chest and shoulder, tall
+And finely formed, as any Grecian god
+Whose high-arched foot on Mount Olympus trod.
+His clear-cut face was beardless; and, like those
+Same Grecian statues, when in calm repose,
+Was it in hue and feature. Framed in hair
+Dark and abundant; lighted by large eyes
+That could be cold as steel in winter air,
+Or warm and sunny as Italian skies.
+
+Weary of mirth and music, and the sound
+Of tripping feet, I sought a moment's rest
+Within the lib'ry, where a group I found
+Of guests, discussing with apparent zest
+Some theme of interest--Vivian, near the while,
+Leaning and listening with his slow odd smile.
+"Now Miss La Pelle, we will appeal to you,"
+Cried young Guy Semple, as I entered. "We
+Have been discussing right before his face,
+All unrebuked by him, as you may see,
+A poem lately published by our friend:
+And we are quite divided. I contend
+The poem is a libel and untrue
+I hold the fickle women are but few,
+Compared with those who are like yon fair moon
+That, ever faithful, rises in her place
+Whether she's greeted by the flowers of June,
+Or cold and dreary stretches of white space."
+
+"Oh!" cried another, "Mr. Dangerfield,
+Look to your laurels! or you needs must yield
+The crown to Semple, who, 'tis very plain,
+Has mounted Pegasus and grasped his mane."
+
+All laughed: and then, as Guy appealed to me
+I answered lightly, "My young friend, I fear
+You chose a most unlucky simile
+To prove the truth of woman. To her place
+The moon does rise--but with a different face
+Each time she comes. But now I needs must hear
+The poem read, before I can consent
+To pass my judgment on the sentiment."
+
+All clamored that the author was the man
+To read the poem: and, with tones that said
+More than the cutting, scornful words he read,
+Taking the book Guy gave him, he began:
+
+  HER LOVE.
+
+          The sands upon the ocean side
+          That change about with every tide,
+          And never true to one abide,
+            A woman's love I liken to.
+
+          The summer zephyrs, light and vain,
+          That sing the same alluring strain
+          To every grass blade on the plain--
+            A woman's love is nothing more.
+
+          The sunshine of an April day
+          That comes to warm you with its ray,
+          But while you smile has flown away--
+            A woman's love is like to this.
+
+          God made poor woman with no heart,
+          But gave her skill, and tact, and art,
+          And so she lives, and plays her part.
+            We must not blame, but pity her.
+
+          She leans to man--but just to hear
+          The praise he whispers in her ear,
+          Herself, not him, she holdeth dear--
+            O fool! to be deceived by her.
+
+          To sate her selfish thirst she quaffs
+          The love of strong hearts in sweet draughts
+          Then throws them lightly by and laughs,
+            Too weak to understand their pain.
+
+          As changeful as the winds that blow
+          From every region, to and fro,
+          Devoid of heart, she cannot know
+            The suffering of a human heart.
+
+I knew the cold, fixed gaze of Vivian's eyes
+Saw the slow color to my forehead rise;
+But lightly answered, toying with my fan,
+"That sentiment is very like a man!
+Men call us fickle, but they do us wrong;
+We're only frail and helpless, men are strong;
+And when love dies, they take the poor dead thing
+And make a shroud out of their suffering,
+And drag the corpse about with them for years.
+But we?--we mourn it for a day with tears!
+And then we robe it for its last long rest,
+And being women, feeble things at best,
+We cannot dig the grave ourselves. And so
+We call strong-limbed New Love to lay it low:
+Immortal sexton he! whom Venus sends
+To do this service for her earthly friends,
+The trusty fellow digs the grave so deep
+Nothing disturbs the dead laid there to sleep."
+
+The laugh that followed had not died away
+Ere Roy Montaine came seeking me, to say
+The band was tuning for our waltz, and so
+Back to the ball-room bore me. In the glow
+And heat and whirl, my strength ere long was spent,
+And I grew faint and dizzy, and we went
+Out on the cool moonlighted portico,
+And, sitting there, Roy drew my languid head
+Upon the shelter of his breast, and bent
+His smiling eyes upon me, as he said,
+"I'll try the mesmerism of my touch
+To work a cure: be very quiet now,
+And let me make some passes o'er your brow.
+Why, how it throbs! you've exercised too much!
+I shall not let you dance again to-night."
+
+Just then before us, in the broad moonlight,
+Two forms were mirrored: and I turned my face
+To catch the teasing and mischievous glance
+Of Helen's eyes, as, heated by the dance,
+Leaning on Vivian's arm, she sought this place.
+
+"I beg your pardon," came in that round tone
+Of his low voice. "I think we do intrude."
+Bowing, they turned, and left us quite alone
+Ere I could speak, or change my attitude.
+
+
+_PART V._
+
+A visit to a cave some miles away
+Was next in order. So, one sunny day,
+Four prancing steeds conveyed a laughing load
+Of merry pleasure-seekers o'er the road.
+A basket picnic, music and croquet
+Were in the programme. Skies were blue and clear,
+And cool winds whispered of the Autumn near.
+The merry-makers filled the time with pleasure:
+Some floated to the music's rhythmic measure,
+Some played, some promenaded on the green.
+
+Ticked off by happy hearts, the moments passed.
+The afternoon, all glow and glimmer, came.
+Helen and Roy were leaders of some game,
+And Vivian was not visible.
+                         "Maurine,
+I challenge you to climb yon cliff with me!
+And who shall tire, or reach the summit last
+Must pay a forfeit," cried a romping maid.
+"Come! start at once, or own you are afraid."
+So challenged I made ready for the race,
+Deciding first the forfeit was to be
+A handsome pair of bootees to replace
+The victor's loss who made the rough ascent.
+The cliff was steep and stony. On we went
+As eagerly as if the path was Fame,
+And what we climbed for, glory and a name.
+My hands were bruised; my garments sadly rent,
+But on I clambered. Soon I heard a cry,
+"Maurine! Maurine! my strength is wholly spent!
+You've won the boots! I'm going back--good bye!"
+And back she turned, in spite of laugh and jeer.
+
+I reached the summit: and its solitude,
+Wherein no living creature did intrude,
+Save some sad birds that wheeled and circled near,
+I found far sweeter than the scene below.
+Alone with One who knew my hidden woe,
+I did not feel so much alone as when
+I mixed with th' unthinking throngs of men.
+
+Some flowers that decked the barren, sterile place
+I plucked, and read the lesson they conveyed,
+That in our lives, albeit dark with shade
+And rough and hard with labor, yet may grow
+The flowers of Patience, Sympathy, and Grace.
+
+As I walked on in meditative thought,
+A serpent writhed across my pathway; not
+A large or deadly serpent; yet the sight
+Filled me with ghastly terror and affright.
+I shrieked aloud: a darkness veiled my eyes--
+And I fell fainting 'neath the watchful skies.
+
+I was no coward. Country-bred and born,
+I had no feeling but the keenest scorn
+For those fine lady "ah's" and "oh's" of fear
+So much assumed (when any man is near).
+But God implanted in each human heart
+A natural horror, and a sickly dread
+Of that accursed, slimy, creeping thing
+That squirms a limbless carcass o'er the ground.
+And where that inborn loathing is not found
+You'll find the serpent qualities instead.
+Who fears it not, himself is next of kin,
+And in his bosom holds some treacherous art
+Whereby to counteract its venomed sting.
+And all are sired by Satan--Chief of Sin.
+
+Who loathes not that foul creature of the dust,
+However fair in seeming, I distrust.
+
+I woke from my unconsciousness, to know
+I leaned upon a broad and manly breast,
+And Vivian's voice was speaking, soft and low,
+Sweet whispered words of passion, o'er and o'er.
+I dared not breathe. Had I found Eden's shore?
+Was this a foretaste of eternal bliss?
+"My love," he sighed, his voice like winds that moan
+Before a rain in Summer time, "My own,
+For one sweet stolen moment, lie and rest
+Upon this heart that loves and hates you both!
+O fair false face! Why were you made so fair!
+O mouth of Southern sweetness! that ripe kiss
+That hangs upon you, I do take an oath
+_His_ lips shall never gather. There!--and there!
+I steal it from him. Are you his--all his?
+Nay you are mine, this moment, as I dreamed--
+Blind fool--believing you were what you seemed--
+You would be mine in all the years to come.
+Fair fiend! I love and hate you in a breath.
+O God! if this white pallor were but _death_,
+And I were stretched beside you, cold and dumb,
+My arms about you, so--in fond embrace!
+My lips pressed, so--upon your dying face!"
+
+"Woman, how dare you bring me to such shame!
+How dare you drive me to an act like this,
+To steal from your unconscious lips the kiss
+You lured me on to think my rightful claim!
+O frail and puny woman! could you know
+The devil that you waken in the hearts
+You snare and bind in your enticing arts,
+The thin, pale stuff that in your veins doth flow
+Would freeze in terror.
+                         Strange you have such power
+To please, or pain us, poor, weak, soulless things--
+Devoid of passion as a senseless flower!
+Like butterflies, your only boast, your wings.
+There, now, I scorn you--scorn you from this hour,
+And hate myself for having talked of love!"
+
+He pushed me from him. And I felt as those
+Doomed angels must, when pearly gates above
+Are closed against them.
+                         With a feigned surprise
+I started up and opened wide my eyes,
+And looked about. Then in confusion rose
+And stood before him.
+
+                         "Pardon me, I pray!"
+He said quite coldly. "Half an hour ago
+I left you with the company below,
+And sought this cliff. A moment since you cried,
+It seemed, in sudden terror and alarm.
+I came in time to see you swoon away.
+You'll need assistance down the rugged side
+Of this steep cliff. I pray you take my arm."
+
+So, formal and constrained, we passed along,
+Rejoined our friends, and mingled with the throng
+To have no further speech again that day.
+
+Next morn there came a bulky document,
+The legal firm of Blank & Blank had sent,
+Containing news unlooked for. An estate
+Which proved a cosy fortune--no-wise great
+Or princely--had in France been left to me,
+My grandsire's last descendant. And it brought
+A sense of joy and freedom in the thought
+Of foreign travel, which I hoped would be
+A panacea for my troubled mind,
+That longed to leave the olden scenes behind
+With all their recollections, and to flee
+To some strange country.
+                         I was in such haste
+To put between me and my native land
+The briny ocean's desolating waste,
+I gave Aunt Ruth no peace, until she planned
+To sail that week, two months: though she was fain
+To wait until the Springtime. Roy Montaine
+Would be our guide and escort.
+                         No one dreamed
+The cause of my strange hurry, but all seemed
+To think good fortune had quite turned my brain.
+One bright October morning, when the woods
+Had donned their purple mantles and red hoods
+In honor of the Frost King, Vivian came,
+Bringing some green leaves, tipped with crimson flame,--
+First trophies of the Autumn time.
+                         And Roy
+Made a proposal that we all should go
+And ramble in the forest for a while.
+But Helen said she was not well--and so
+Must stay at home. Then Vivian, with a smile,
+Responded, "I will stay and talk to you,
+And they may go;" at which her two cheeks grew
+Like twin blush roses;--dyed with love's red wave,
+Her fair face shone transfigured with great joy.
+
+And Vivian saw--and suddenly was grave.
+
+Roy took my arm in that protecting way
+Peculiar to some men, which seems to say,
+"I shield my own," a manner pleasing, e'en
+When we are conscious that it does not mean
+More than a simple courtesy. A woman
+Whose heart is wholly feminine and human,
+And not unsexed by hobbies, likes to be
+The object of that tender chivalry,
+That guardianship which man bestows on her,
+Yet mixed with deference; as if she were
+Half child, half angel.
+                         Though she may be strong,
+Noble and self-reliant, not afraid
+To raise her hand and voice against all wrong
+And all oppression, yet if she be made,
+With all the independence of her thought,
+A woman womanly, as God designed,
+Albeit she may have as great a mind
+As man, her brother, yet his strength of arm
+His muscle and his boldness she has not,
+And cannot have without she loses what
+Is far more precious, modesty and grace.
+So, walking on in her appointed place,
+She does not strive to ape him, nor pretend
+But that she needs him for a guide and friend,
+To shield her with his greater strength from harm.
+
+We reached the forest; wandered to and fro
+Through many a winding path and dim retreat.
+Till I grew weary: when I chose a seat
+Upon an oak tree, which had been laid low
+By some wind storm, or by some lightning stroke.
+And Roy stood just below me, where the ledge
+On which I sat sloped steeply to the edge
+Of sunny meadows lying at my feet.
+One hand held mine; the other grasped a limb
+That cast its checkered shadows over him;
+And, with his head thrown back, his dark eyes raised
+And fixed upon me, silently he gazed
+Until I, smiling, turned to him and spoke:
+"Give words, my cousin, to those thoughts that rise,
+And, like dumb spirits, look forth from your eyes."
+
+The smooth and even darkness of his cheek
+Was stained one moment by a flush of red.
+He swayed his lithe form nearer as he stood
+Still clinging to the branch above his head.
+His brilliant eyes grew darker; and he said,
+With sudden passion, "Do you bid me speak?
+I can not, then, keep silence if I would.
+That hateful fortune, coming as it did,
+Forbade my speaking sooner; for I knew
+A harsh tongued world would quickly misconstrue
+My motive for a meaner one. But, sweet,
+So big my heart has grown with love for you
+I can not shelter it, or keep it hid.
+And so I cast it throbbing at your feet,
+For you to guard and cherish, or to break.
+Maurine, I love you better than my life.
+My friend--my cousin--be still more, my wife!
+Maurine, Maurine, what answer do you make?"
+
+I scarce could breathe for wonderment; and numb
+With truth that fell too suddenly, sat dumb
+With sheer amaze, and stared at Roy with eyes
+That looked no feeling but complete surprise.
+He swayed so near his breath was on my cheek.
+"Maurine, Maurine," he whispered, "will you speak?"
+
+Then suddenly, as o'er some magic glass
+One picture in a score of shapes will pass,
+I seemed to see Roy glide before my gaze.
+First, as the playmate of my earlier days--
+Next, as my kin--and then my valued friend,
+And last, my lover. As when colors blend
+In some unlooked-for group before our eyes,
+We hold the glass, and look them o'er and o'er
+So now I gazed on Roy in his new guise,
+In which he ne'er appeared to me before.
+
+His form was like a panther's in its grace,
+So lithe and supple, and of medium height,
+And garbed in all the elegance of fashion.
+His large black eyes were full of fire and passion,
+And in expression fearless, firm, and bright.
+His hair was like the very deeps of night,
+And hung in raven clusters 'round a face
+Of dark and flashing beauty.
+                         He was more
+Like some romantic maiden's grand ideal
+Than like a common being. As I gazed
+Upon the handsome face to mine upraised,
+I saw before me, living, breathing, real,
+The hero of my early day-dreams: though
+So full my heart was with that clear-cut face,
+Which, all unlike, yet claimed the hero's place,
+I had not recognized him so before,
+Or thought of him, save as a valued friend.
+So now I called him, adding,
+                         "Foolish boy!
+Each word of love you utter aims a blow
+At that sweet trust I had reposed in you.
+I was so certain I had found a true,
+Steadfast man friend, on whom I could depend,
+And go on wholly trusting, to the end.
+Why did you shatter my delusion, Roy,
+By turning to a lover?"
+                         "Why, indeed!
+Because I loved you more than any brother,
+Or any friend could love." Then he began
+To argue like a lawyer, and to plead
+With all his eloquence. And, listening,
+I strove to think it was a goodly thing
+To be so fondly loved by such a man,
+And it were best to give his wooing heed,
+And not deny him. Then before my eyes
+In all its clear-cut majesty, that other
+Haughty and poet-handsome face would rise
+And rob my purpose of all life and strength.
+
+Roy urged and argued, as Roy only could,
+With that impetuous, boyish eloquence.
+He held my hands, and vowed I must, and should
+Give some least hope; till, in my own defense,
+I turned upon him, and replied at length:
+"I thank you for the noble heart you offer:
+But it deserves a true one in exchange.
+I could love you if I loved not another
+Who keeps my heart; so I have none to proffer."
+
+Then, seeing how his dark eyes flashed, I said,
+"Dear Roy! I know my words seem very strange;
+But I love one I cannot hope to wed.
+A river rolls between us, dark and deep.
+To cross it--were to stain with blood my hand.
+You force my speech on what I fain would keep
+In my own bosom, but you understand?
+My heart is given to love that's sanctified,
+And now can feel no other.
+
+                         Be you kind
+Dear Roy, my brother! speak of this no more,
+Lest pleading and denying should divide
+The hearts so long united. Let me find
+In you my cousin and my friend of yore
+And now come home. The morning, all too soon
+And unperceived, has melted into noon.
+Helen will miss us, and we must return."
+
+He took my hand, and helped me to arise,
+Smiling upon me with his sad dark eyes.
+Where passion's fires had, sudden, ceased to burn.
+
+"And so," he said, "too soon and unforeseen
+My friendship melted into love, Maurine.
+But, sweet! I am not wholly in the blame,
+For what you term my folly. You forgot,
+So long we'd known each other, I had not
+In truth a brother's or a cousin's claim.
+But I remembered, when through every nerve
+Your lightest touch went thrilling; and began
+To love you with that human love of man
+For comely woman. By your coaxing arts,
+You won your way into my heart of hearts,
+And all Platonic feelings put to rout.
+A maid should never lay aside reserve
+With one who's not her kinsman, out and out.
+But as we now, with measured steps, retrace
+The path we came, e'en so my heart I'll send,
+At your command, back to the olden place,
+And strive to love you only as a friend."
+I felt the justice of his mild reproof,
+But answered laughing, "'Tis the same old cry:
+'The woman tempted me, and I did eat.'
+Since Adam's time we've heard it. But I'll try
+And be more prudent, sir, and hold aloof
+The fruit I never once had thought so sweet
+'Twould tempt you any. Now go dress for dinner,
+Thou sinned against! as also will the sinner.
+And guard each act, that no least look betray
+What's passed between us."
+                         Then I turned away
+And sought my room, low humming some old air
+That ceased upon the threshold; for mine eyes
+Fell on a face so glorified and fair
+All other senses, merged in that of sight,
+Were lost in contemplation of the bright
+And wond'rous picture, which had otherwise
+Made dim my vision.
+                         Waiting in my room,
+Her whole face lit as by an inward flame
+That shed its halo 'round her, Helen stood;
+Her fair hands folded like a lily's leaves
+Weighed down by happy dews of summer eves.
+Upon her cheek the color went and came
+As sunlight flickers o'er a bed of bloom;
+And, like some slim young sapling of the wood,
+Her slender form leaned slightly; and her hair
+Fell 'round her loosely, in long curling strands
+All unconfined, and as by loving hands
+Tossed into bright confusion.
+                         Standing there,
+Her starry eyes uplifted, she did seem
+Like some unearthly creature of a dream;
+Until she started forward, gliding slowly,
+And broke the breathless silence, speaking lowly,
+As one grown meek, and humble in an hour,
+Bowing before some new and mighty power.
+
+"Maurine, Maurine!" she murmured, and again,
+"Maurine, my own sweet friend, Maurine!"
+                         And then,
+Laying her love light hands upon my head,
+She leaned, and looked into my eyes, and said
+With voice that bore her joy in ev'ry tone,
+As winds that blow across a garden bed
+Are weighed with fragrance, "He is mine alone,
+And I am his--all his--his very own.
+So pledged this hour, by that most sacred tie
+Save one beneath God's over-arching sky.
+I could not wait to tell you of my bliss:
+I want your blessing, sweetheart! and your kiss."
+So hiding my heart's trouble with a smile,
+I leaned and kissed her dainty mouth; the while
+I felt a guilt-joy, as of some sweet sin,
+When my lips fell where his so late had been.
+And all day long I bore about with me
+A sense of shame--yet mixed with satisfaction,
+As some starved child might steal a loaf, and be
+Sad with the guilt resulting from her action,
+While yet the morsel in her mouth was sweet.
+That ev'ning when the house had settled down
+To sleep and quiet, to my room there crept
+A lithe young form, robed in a long white gown:
+With steps like fall of thistle-down she came,
+Her mouth smile-wreathed; and, breathing low my name,
+Nestled in graceful beauty at my feet.
+
+"Sweetheart," she murmured softly, "ere I sleep,
+I needs must tell you all my tale of joy.
+Beginning where you left us--you and Roy.
+You saw the color flame upon my cheek
+When Vivian spoke of staying. So did he;--
+And, when we were alone, he gazed at me
+With such a strange look in his wond'rous eyes.
+The silence deepened; and I tried to speak
+Upon some common topic, but could not,
+My heart was in such tumult.
+                         In this wise
+Five happy moments glided by us, fraught
+With hours of feeling. Vivian rose up then,
+And came and stood by me, and stroked my hair.
+And, in his low voice, o'er and o'er again,
+Said, 'Helen, little Helen, frail and fair.'
+Then took my face, and turned it to the light,
+And looking in my eyes, and seeing what
+Was shining from them, murmured, sweet and low,
+'Dear eyes, you cannot veil the truth from sight.
+You love me, Helen! answer, is it so?'
+And I made answer straightway, 'With my life
+And soul and strength I love you, O my love!'
+He leaned and took me gently to his breast,
+And said, 'Here then this dainty head shall rest
+Henceforth forever: O my little dove!
+My lily-bud--my fragile blossom-wife!'
+
+"And then I told him all my thoughts; and he
+Listened, with kisses for his comments, till
+My tale was finished. Then he said, 'I will
+Be frank with you, my darling, from the start,
+And hide no secret from you in my heart.
+I love you, Helen, but you are not first
+To rouse that love to being. Ere we met
+I loved a woman madly--never dreaming
+She was not all in truth she was in seeming.
+Enough! she proved to be that thing accursed
+Of God and man--a wily vain coquette.
+I hate myself for having loved her. Yet
+So much my heart spent on her, it must give
+A love less ardent, and less prodigal,
+Albeit just as tender and as true--
+A milder, yet a faithful love to you.
+Just as some evil fortune might befall
+A man's great riches, causing him to live
+In some low cot, all unpretending, still
+As much his home--as much his loved retreat,
+As was the princely palace on the hill,
+E'en so I give you all that's left, my sweet!
+Of my heart-fortune.'
+                         'That were more to me,'
+I made swift smiling answer, 'than to be
+The worshiped consort of a king.' And so
+Our faith was pledged. But Vivian would not go
+Until I vowed to wed him New Year day.
+And I am sad because you go away
+Before that time. I shall not feel half wed
+Without you here. Postpone your trip and stay,
+And be my bridesmaid."
+                         "Nay, I cannot, dear!
+'Twould disarrange our plans for half a year.
+I'll be in Europe New Year day," I said,
+"And send congratulations by the cable."
+And from my soul thanked Providence for sparing
+The pain, to me, of sharing in, and wearing
+The festal garments of a wedding scene,
+While all my heart was hung with sorrow's sable.
+Forgetting for a season, that between
+The cup and lip lies many a chance of loss,
+I lived in my near future, confident
+All would be as I planned it; and, across
+The briny waste of waters, I should find
+Some balm and comfort for my troubled mind.
+The sad Fall days, like maidens auburn-tressed
+And amber-eyed, in purple garments dressed,
+Passed by, and dropped their tears upon the tomb
+Of fair Queen Summer, buried in her bloom.
+
+Roy left us for a time, and Helen went
+To make the nuptial preparations. Then,
+Aunt Ruth complained one day of feeling ill:
+Her veins ran red with fever; and the skill
+Of two physicians could not stem the tide.
+The house, that rang so late with laugh and jest,
+Grew ghostly with low whispered sounds; and when
+The Autumn day, that I had thought to be
+Bounding upon the billows of the sea,
+Came sobbing in, it found me pale and worn,
+Striving to keep away that unloved guest
+Who comes unbidden, making hearts to mourn.
+Through all the anxious weeks I watched beside
+The suff'rer's couch, Roy was my help and stay;
+Others were kind, but he alone each day
+Brought strength and comfort, by his cheerful face,
+And hopeful words, that fell in that sad place
+Like rays of light upon a darkened way.
+November passed; and Winter, crisp and chill,
+In robes of ermine walked on plain and hill.
+Returning light and life dispelled the gloom
+That cheated Death had brought us from the tomb.
+Aunt Ruth was saved, and slowly getting better--
+Was dressed each day, and walked about the room.
+Then came one morning in the Eastern mail,
+A little white-winged birdling of a letter.
+I broke the seal and read,
+                         "Maurine, my own!
+I hear Aunt Ruth is better, and am glad.
+I felt so sorry for you; and so sad
+To think I left you when I did--alone
+To bear your pain and worry, and those nights
+Of weary, anxious watching.
+                         Vivian writes
+Your plans are changed now, and you will not sail
+Before the Springtime. So you'll come and be
+My bridesmaid, darling! Do not say me nay.
+But three weeks more of girlhood left to me.
+Come, if you can, just two weeks from to-day,
+And make your preparations here. My sweet!
+Indeed I am not glad Aunt Ruth was ill--
+I'm sorry she has suffered so; and still
+I'm thankful something happened, so you stayed.
+I'm sure my wedding would be incomplete
+Without your presence. Selfish, I'm afraid
+You'll think your Helen. But I love you so,
+How can I be quite willing you should go?
+Come Christmas Eve, or earlier. Let me know
+And I will meet you, dearie! at the train.
+Your happy, loving Helen."
+                         Then the pain
+That, hidden under later pain and care,
+Had made no moan, but silent, seemed to sleep,
+Woke from its trance-like lethargy, to steep
+My tortured heart in anguish and despair.
+
+I had relied too fully on my skill
+In bending circumstances to my will:
+And now I was rebuked and made to see
+That God alone knoweth what is to be.
+Then came a messenger from Vivian, who
+Came not himself, as he was wont to do,
+But sent his servant each new day to bring
+A kindly message, or an offering
+Of juicy fruits to cool the lips of fever,
+Or dainty hot-house blossoms, with their bloom
+To brighten up the convalescent's room.
+But now the servant only brought a line
+From Vivian Dangerfield to Roy Montaine,
+"Dear Sir, and Friend"--in letters bold and plain,
+Written on cream-white paper, so it ran:
+"It is the will and pleasure of Miss Trevor,
+And therefore doubly so a wish of mine,
+That you shall honor me next New Year Eve,
+My wedding hour, by standing as best man.
+Miss Trevor has six bridesmaids I believe.
+Being myself a novice in the art--
+If I should fail in acting well my part,
+I'll need protection 'gainst the regiment
+Of outraged ladies. So, I pray, consent
+To stand by me in time of need, and shield
+Your friend sincerely, Vivian Dangerfield."
+
+The last least hope had vanished; I must drain,
+E'en to the dregs, this bitter cup of pain.
+
+
+_PART VI._
+
+There was a week of bustle and of hurry;
+A stately home echoed to voices sweet,
+Calling, replying; and to tripping feet
+Of busy bridesmaids, running to and fro,
+With all that girlish fluttering and flurry
+Preceding such occasions.
+                         Helen's room
+Was like a lily-garden, all in bloom,
+Decked with the dainty robes of her trousseau.
+My robe was fashioned by swift, skillful hands--
+A thing of beauty, elegant and rich,
+A mystery of loopings, puffs and bands;
+And as I watched it growing, stitch by stitch,
+I felt as one might feel who should behold
+With vision trance-like, where his body lay
+In deathly slumber, simulating clay,
+His grave-cloth sewed together, fold on fold.
+
+I lived with ev'ry nerve upon the strain,
+As men go into battle; and the pain,
+That, more and more, to my sad heart revealed,
+Grew ghastly with its horrors, was concealed
+From mortal eyes by superhuman power,
+That God bestowed upon me, hour by hour.
+
+What night the Old Year gave unto the New
+The key of human happiness and woe,
+The pointed stars, upon their field of blue,
+Shone, white and perfect, o'er a world below,
+Of snow-clad beauty; all the trees were dressed
+In gleaming garments, decked with diadems,
+Each seeming like a bridal-bidden guest,
+Coming o'er-laden with a gift of gems.
+
+The bustle of the dressing room; the sound
+Of eager voices in discourse; the clang
+Of "sweet bells jangled"; thud of steel-clad feet
+That beat swift music on the frozen ground--
+All blent together in my brain, and rang
+A medley of strange noises, incomplete,
+And full of discords.
+                         Then out on the night
+Streamed from this open vestibule, a light
+That lit the velvet blossoms which we trod,
+With all the hues of those that deck the sod.
+The grand cathedral windows were ablaze
+With gorgeous colors; through a sea of bloom,
+Up the long aisle, to join the waiting groom,
+The bridal cortege passed.
+                         As some lost soul
+Might surge on with the curious crowd, to gaze
+Upon its coffined body, so I went
+With that glad festal throng. The organ sent
+Great waves of melody along the air,
+That broke and fell, in liquid drops, like spray,
+On happy hearts that listened. But to me
+It sounded faintly, as if miles away,
+A troubled spirit, sitting in despair
+Beside the sad and ever-moaning sea,
+Gave utterance to sighing sounds of dole.
+We paused before the altar. Framed in flowers,
+The white-robed man of God stood forth.
+                         I heard
+The solemn service open; through long hours
+I seemed to stand and listen, while each word
+Fell on my ear as falls the sound of clay
+Upon the coffin of the worshiped dead.
+The stately father gave the bride away:
+The bridegroom circled with a golden band
+The taper finger of her dainty hand.
+The last imposing, binding words were said--
+"What God has joined let no man put asunder"--
+And all my strife with self was at an end;
+My lover was the husband of my friend.
+
+How strangely, in some awful hour of pain,
+External trifles with our sorrows blend!
+I never hear the mighty organ's thunder,
+I never catch the scent of heliotrope,
+Nor see stained windows all ablaze with light,
+Without that dizzy whirling of the brain,
+And all the ghastly feeling of that night,
+When my sick heart relinquished love and hope.
+
+The pain we feel so keenly may depart,
+And e'en its memory cease to haunt the heart;
+But some slight thing, a perfume, or a sound
+Will probe the closed recesses of the wound,
+And for a moment bring the old-time smart.
+
+Congratulations, kisses, tears and smiles,
+Good-byes and farewells given; then across
+The snowy waste of weary wintry miles,
+Back to my girlhood's home, where, through each room,
+For evermore pale phantoms of delight
+Should aimless wander, always in my sight,
+Pointing, with ghostly fingers, to the tomb
+Wet with the tears of living pain and loss.
+
+The sleepless nights of watching and of care,
+Followed by that one week of keenest pain,
+Taxing my weakened system, and my brain,
+Brought on a ling'ring illness.
+                         Day by day,
+In that strange, apathetic state I lay,
+Of mental and of physical despair.
+I had no pain, no fever, and no chill,
+But lay without ambition, strength, or will,
+Knowing no wish for anything but rest,
+Which seemed, of all God's store of gifts, the best.
+
+Physicians came and shook their heads and sighed;
+And to their score of questions I replied,
+With but one languid answer, o'er and o'er.
+"I am so weary--weary--nothing more."
+
+I slept, and dreamed I was some feathered thing,
+Flying through space with ever-aching wing,
+Seeking a ship called Rest all snowy white,
+That sailed and sailed before me, just in sight,
+But always one unchanging distance kept,
+And woke more weary than before I slept.
+
+I slept, and dreamed I ran to win a prize.
+A hand from heaven held down before my eyes.
+All eagerness I sought it--it was gone,
+But shone in all its beauty farther on.
+I ran, and ran, and ran, in eager quest
+Of that great prize, whereon was written "rest,"
+Which ever just beyond my reach did gleam,
+And wakened doubly weary with my dream.
+
+I dreamed I was a crystal drop of rain,
+That saw a snow-white lily on the plain,
+And left the cloud to nestle in her breast.
+I fell and fell, but nevermore found rest--
+I fell and fell, but found no stopping place,
+Through leagues and leagues of never-ending space,
+While space illimitable stretched before.
+
+And all these dreams but wearied me the more.
+
+Familiar voices sounded in my room--
+Aunt Ruth's and Roy's, and Helen's: but they seemed
+A part of some strange fancy I had dreamed,
+And now remembered dimly.
+                         Wrapped in gloom,
+My mind, o'er taxed, lost hold of time at last,
+Ignored its future, and forgot its past,
+And groped along the present, as a light,
+Carried, uncovered, through the fogs of night,
+Will flicker faintly.
+                         But I felt, at length,
+When March winds brought vague rumors of the spring,
+A certain sense of "restlessness with rest."
+My aching frame was weary of repose,
+And wanted action.
+
+                         Then slow-creeping strength
+Came back with Mem'ry, hand in hand, to bring
+And lay upon my sore and bleeding breast,
+Grim-visaged Recollection's thorny rose.
+I gained, and failed. One day could ride and walk,
+The next would find me prostrate: while a flock
+Of ghostly thoughts, like phantom birds, would flit
+About the chambers of my heart, or sit,
+Pale spectres of the past, with folded wings,
+Perched, silently, upon the voiceless strings,
+That once resounded to Hope's happy lays.
+
+So passed the ever-changing April days.
+When May came, lightsome footed, o'er the lea,
+Accompanied by kind Aunt Ruth and Roy,
+I bade farewell to home with secret joy,
+And turned my wan face eastward to the sea.
+Roy planned our route of travel: for all lands
+Were one to him. Or Egypt's burning sands,
+Or Alps of Switzerland, or stately Rome,
+All were familiar as the fields of home.
+
+There was a year of wand'ring to and fro,
+Like restless spirits; scaling mountain heights;
+Dwelling among the countless, rare delights
+Of lands historic; turning dusty pages,
+Stamped with the tragedies of mighty ages;
+Gazing upon the scenes of bloody acts,
+Of kings long buried--bare, unvarnished facts,
+Surpassing wildest fictions of the brain;
+Rubbing against all people, high and low,
+And by this contact feeling Self to grow
+Smaller and less important, and the vein
+Of human kindness deeper, seeing God,
+Unto the humble delver of the sod,
+And to the ruling monarch on the throne,
+Has given hope, ambition, joy, and pain,
+And that all hearts have feelings like our own.
+
+There is no school that disciplines the mind,
+And broadens thought, like contact with mankind.
+The college-prisoned greybeard, who has burned
+The midnight lamp, and book-bound knowledge learned,
+Till sciences or classics hold no lore
+He has not conned and studied, o'er and o'er,
+Is but a babe in wisdom, when compared
+With some unlettered wand'rer, who has shared
+The hospitalities of every land;
+Felt touch of brother in each proffered hand;
+Made man his study, and the world his college,
+And gained this grand epitome of knowledge:
+Each human being has a heart and soul,
+And self is but an atom of the whole.
+I hold he is best learned and most wise,
+Who best and most can love and sympathize.
+Book-wisdom makes us vain and self-contained;
+Our banded minds go round in little grooves;
+But constant friction with the world removes
+These iron foes to freedom, and we rise
+To grander heights, and, all untrammeled, find
+A better atmosphere and clearer skies;
+And through its broadened realm, no longer chained,
+Thought travels freely, leaving Self behind.
+Where'er we chanced to wander or to roam,
+Glad letters came from Helen; happy things,
+Like little birds that followed on swift wings,
+Bringing their tender messages from home.
+Her days were poems, beautiful, complete.
+The rhythm perfect, and the burden sweet.
+She was so happy--happy, and so blest.
+
+My heart had found contentment in that year.
+With health restored, my life seemed full of cheer
+The heart of youth turns ever to the light;
+Sorrow and gloom may curtain it like night,
+But, in its very anguish and unrest,
+It beats and tears the pall-like folds away,
+And finds again the sunlight of the day.
+
+And yet, despite the changes without measure,
+Despite sight-seeing, round on round of pleasure;
+Despite new friends, new suitors, still my heart
+Was conscious of a something lacking, where
+Love once had dwelt, and afterward despair.
+Now love was buried; and despair had flown
+Before the healthful zephyrs that had blown
+From heights serene and lofty; and the place
+Where both had dwelt, was empty, voiceless space
+And so I took my long-loved study, art,
+The dreary vacuum in my life to fill,
+And worked, and labored, with a right good will.
+Aunt Ruth and I took rooms in Rome; while Roy
+Lingered in Scotland, with his new-found joy.
+A dainty little lassie, Grace Kildare,
+Had snared him in her flossy, flaxen hair,
+And made him captive.
+                         We were thrown, by chance,
+In contact with her people while in France
+The previous season: she was wholly sweet
+And fair and gentle; so naeive, and yet
+So womanly, she was at once the pet
+Of all our party; and, ere many days,
+Won by her fresh face, and her artless ways,
+Roy fell a helpless captive at her feet.
+Her home was in the Highlands; and she came
+Of good old stock, of fair untarnished fame.
+
+Through all these months Roy had been true as steel;
+And by his every action made me feel
+He was my friend and brother, and no more.
+The same big-souled and trusty friend of yore.
+Yet, in my secret heart, I wished I knew
+Whether the love he felt one time was dead,
+Or only hidden, for my sake, from view.
+So when he came to me one day, and said,
+The velvet blackness of his eyes ashine
+With light of love and triumph: "Cousin, mine,
+Congratulate me! She whom I adore
+Has pledged to me the promise of her hand;
+Her heart I have already," I was glad
+With double gladness, for it freed my mind
+Of fear that he, in secret, might be sad.
+
+From March till June had left her moons behind,
+And merged her rose-red beauty in July,
+There was no message from my native land.
+Then came a few brief lines, by Vivian penned:
+Death had been near to Helen, but passed by;
+The danger was now over. God was kind;
+The mother and the child were both alive;
+No other child was ever known to thrive
+As throve this one, nurse had been heard to say.
+The infant was a wonder, every way.
+And, at command of Helen he would send
+A lock of baby's golden hair to me.
+And did I, on my honor, ever see
+Such hair before? Helen would write, ere long:
+She gained quite slowly, but would soon be strong--
+Stronger than ever, so the doctors said.
+I took the tiny ringlet, golden--fair,
+Mayhap his hand had severed from the head
+Of his own child, and pressed it to my cheek
+And to my lips, and kissed it o'er and o'er.
+All my maternal instincts seemed to rise,
+And clamor for their rights, while my wet eyes,
+Rained tears upon the silken tress of hair.
+The woman struggled with her heart before!
+It was the mother in me now did speak,
+Moaning, like Rachel, that her babes were not,
+And crying out against her barren lot.
+
+Once I bemoaned the long and lonely years
+That stretched before me, dark with love's eclipse;
+And thought how my unmated heart would miss
+The shelter of a broad and manly breast--
+The strong, bold arm--the tender clinging kiss--
+And all pure love's possessions, manifold;
+But now I wept a flood of bitter tears,
+Thinking of little heads of shining gold,
+That would not on my bosom sink to rest;
+Of little hands that would not touch my cheek;
+Of little lisping voices, and sweet lips,
+That never in my list'ning ear would speak
+The blessed name of mother.
+                         Oh, in woman
+How mighty is the love of offspring! Ere
+Unto her wond'ring, untaught mind unfolds
+The myst'ry that is half divine, half human,
+Of life and birth, the love of unborn souls
+Within her, and the mother-yearning creeps
+Through her warm heart, and stirs its hidden deeps,
+And grows and strengthens with each riper year.
+
+As storms may gather in a placid sky,
+And spend their fury, and then pass away,
+Leaving again the blue of cloudless day,
+E'en so the tempest of my grief passed by.
+'T was weak to mourn for what I had resigned,
+With the deliberate purpose of my mind,
+To my sweet friend.
+                         Relinquishing my love,
+I gave my dearest hope of joy to her.
+If God, from out his boundless store above,
+Had chosen added blessings to confer,
+I would rejoice, for her sake--not repine
+That th' immortal treasures were not mine.
+
+Better my lonely sorrow, than to know
+My selfish joy had been another's woe;
+Better my grief and my strength to control,
+Than the despair of her frail-bodied soul;
+Better to go on, loveless, to the end,
+Than wear love's rose, whose thorn had slain my friend.
+
+Work is the salve that heals the wounded heart.
+With will most resolute I set my aim
+To enter on the weary race for Fame,
+And if I failed to climb the dizzy height,
+To reach some point of excellence in art.
+
+E'en as the Maker held earth incomplete,
+Till man was formed, and placed upon the sod,
+The perfect, living image of his God,
+All landscape scenes were lacking in my sight,
+Wherein the human figure had no part.
+In that, all lines of symmetry did meet--
+All hues of beauty mingle. So I brought
+Enthusiasm in abundance, thought,
+Much study, and some talent, day by day,
+To help me in my efforts to portray
+The wond'rous power, majesty and grace
+Stamped on some form, or looking from some face.
+This was to be my specialty: To take
+Human emotion for my theme, and make
+The unassisted form divine express
+Anger or Sorrow, Pleasure, Pain, Distress;
+And thus to build Fame's monument above
+The grave of my departed hope and love.
+
+This is not Genius. Genius spreads its wings
+And soars beyond itself, or selfish things.
+Talent has need of stepping-stones: some cross,
+Some cheated purpose, some great pain or loss,
+Must lay the groundwork, and arouse ambition,
+Before it labors onward to fruition.
+
+But, as the lark from beds of bloom will rise
+And sail and sing among the very skies,
+Still mounting near and nearer to the light,
+Impelled alone by love of upward flight,
+So Genius soars--it does not need to climb--
+Upon God-given wings, to heights sublime.
+Some sportman's shot, grazing the singer's throat,
+Some venomous assault of birds of prey,
+May speed its flight toward the realm of day,
+And tinge with triumph every liquid note.
+So deathless Genius mounts but higher yet,
+When Strife and Envy think to slay or fret.
+
+There is no balking Genius. Only death
+Can silence it, or hinder. While there's breath
+Or sense of feeling, it will spurn the sod,
+And lift itself to glory, and to God.
+The acorn sprouted--weeds nor flowers can choke
+The certain growth of th' upreaching oak.
+
+Talent was mine, not Genius; and my mind
+Seemed bound by chains, and would not leave behind
+Its selfish love and sorrow.
+                         Did I strive
+To picture some emotion, lo! _his_ eyes,
+Of emerald beauty, dark as ocean dyes,
+Looked from the canvas: and my buried pain
+Rose from its grave, and stood by me alive.
+Whate'er my subject, in some hue or line,
+The glorious beauty of his face would shine.
+
+So for a time my labor seemed in vain,
+Since it but freshened, and made keener yet,
+The grief my heart was striving to forget.
+
+While in his form all strength and magnitude
+With grace and supple sinews were entwined,
+While in his face all beauties were combined
+Of perfect features, intellect and truth,
+With all that fine rich coloring of youth,
+How could my brush portray aught good or fair
+Wherein no fatal likeness should intrude
+Of him my soul had worshiped?
+                         But, at last,
+Setting a watch upon my unwise heart
+That thus would mix its sorrow with my art,
+I resolutely shut away the past,
+And made the toilsome present passing bright
+With dreams of what was hidden from my sight
+In the far distant future, when the soil
+Should yield me golden fruit for all my toil.
+
+
+_PART VII._
+
+With much hard labor and some pleasure fraught,
+The months rolled by me noiselessly, that taught
+My hand to grow more skillful in its art,
+Strengthened my daring dream of fame, and brought
+Sweet hope and resignation to my heart.
+
+Brief letters came from Helen, now and then:
+She was quite well--oh, yes! quite well, indeed!
+But still so weak and nervous. By and by,
+When baby, being older, should not need
+Such constant care, she would grow strong again.
+She was as happy as a soul could be;
+No least cloud hovered in her azure sky;
+She had not thought life held such depths of bliss.
+Dear baby sent Maurine a loving kiss,
+And said she was a naughty, naughty girl,
+Not to come home and see ma's little pearl.
+
+No gift of costly jewels, or of gold,
+Had been so precious or so dear to me,
+As each brief line wherein her joy was told.
+It lightened toil, and took the edge from pain,
+Knowing my sacrifice was not in vain.
+
+Roy purchased fine estates in Scotland, where
+He built a pretty villa-like retreat.
+And when the Roman Summer's languid heat
+Made work a punishment, I turned my face
+Toward the Highlands, and with Roy and Grace
+Found rest and freedom from all thought and care.
+
+I was a willing worker. Not an hour
+Passed idly by me: each, I would employ
+To some good purpose, ere it glided on
+To swell the tide of hours forever gone.
+My first completed picture, known as "Joy,"
+Won pleasant words of praise. "Possesses power,"
+"Displays much talent," "Very fairly done."
+So fell the comments on my grateful ear.
+
+Swift in the wake of Joy, and always near,
+Walks her sad sister Sorrow. So my brush
+Began depicting sorrow, heavy-eyed,
+With pallid visage, ere the rosy flush
+Upon the beaming face of Joy had dried.
+The careful study of long months, it won
+Golden opinions; even bringing forth
+That certain sign of merit--a critique
+Which set both pieces down as daubs, and weak
+As empty heads that sang their praises--so
+Proving conclusively the pictures' worth.
+These critics and reviewers do not use
+Their precious ammunition to abuse
+A worthless work. That, left alone, they know
+Will find its proper level; and they aim
+Their batteries at rising works which claim
+Too much of public notice. But this shot
+Resulted only in some noise, which brought
+A dozen people, where one came before
+To view my pictures; and I had my hour
+Of holding those frail baubles, Fame and Pow'r.
+An English Baron who had lived two score
+Of his allotted three score years and ten,
+Bought both the pieces. He was very kind,
+And so attentive, I, not being blind,
+Must understand his meaning.
+                         Therefore, when
+He said,
+    "Sweet friend, whom I would make my wife,
+The 'Joy' and 'Sorrow' this dear hand portrayed
+I have in my possession: now resign
+Into my careful keeping, and make mine,
+The joy and sorrow of your future life,"--
+I was prepared to answer, but delayed,
+Grown undecided suddenly.
+                         My mind
+Argued the matter coolly pro and con,
+And made resolve to speed his wooing on
+And grant him favor. He was good and kind;
+Not young, no doubt he would be quite content
+With my respect, nor miss an ardent love;
+Could give me ties of family and home;
+And then, perhaps, my mind was not above
+Setting some value on a titled name--
+Ambitious woman's weakness!
+                         Then my art
+Would be encouraged and pursued the same,
+And I could spend my winters all in Rome.
+Love never more could touch my wasteful heart
+That all its wealth upon one object spent.
+Existence would be very bleak and cold,
+After long years, when I was gray and old,
+With neither home nor children.
+                         Once a wife,
+I would forget the sorrow of my life,
+And pile new sods upon the grave of pain.
+My mind so argued; and my sad heart heard,
+But made no comment.
+                         Then the Baron spoke,
+And waited for my answer. All in vain
+I strove for strength to utter that one word
+My mind dictated. Moments rolled away--
+Until at last my torpid heart awoke,
+And forced my trembling lips to say him nay.
+And then my eyes with sudden tears o'erran,
+In pity for myself and for this man
+Who stood before me, lost in pained surprise.
+"Dear friend," I cried, "Dear generous friend forgive
+A troubled woman's weakness! As I live,
+In truth I meant to answer otherwise.
+From out its store, my heart can give you naught
+But honor and respect; and yet methought
+I would give willing answer, did you sue.
+But now I know 'twere cruel wrong I planned;
+Taking a heart that beat with love most true,
+And giving in exchange an empty hand.
+Who weds for love alone, may not be wise:
+Who weds without it, angels must despise.
+Love and respect together must combine
+To render marriage holy and divine;
+And lack of either, sure as Fate, destroys
+Continuation of the nuptial joys,
+And brings regret, and gloomy discontent,
+To put to rout each tender sentiment.
+Nay, nay! I will not burden all your life
+By that possession--an unloving wife;
+Nor will I take the sin upon my soul
+Of wedding where my heart goes not in whole.
+However bleak may be my single lot,
+I will not stain my life with such a blot.
+Dear friend, farewell! the earth is very wide;
+It holds some fairer woman for your bride;
+I would I had a heart to give to you,
+But, lacking it, can only say--adieu!"
+
+He whom temptation never has assailed,
+Knows not that subtle sense of moral strength;
+When sorely tried, we waver, but at length,
+Rise up and turn away, not having failed.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Autumn of the third year came and went;
+The mild Italian winter was half spent,
+When this brief message came across the sea:
+"My darling! I am dying. Come to me.
+Love, which so long the growing truth concealed,
+Stands pale within its shadow. O, my sweet!
+This heart of mine grows fainter with each beat--
+Dying with very weight of bliss. O, come!
+And take the legacy I leave to you,
+Before these lips forevermore are dumb.
+In life or death, Yours, Helen Dangerfield."
+
+This plaintive letter bore a month old date;
+And, wild with fears lest I had come too late,
+I bade the old world and new friends adieu.
+And with Aunt Ruth, who long had sighed for home,
+I turned my back on glory, art, and Rome.
+
+All selfish thoughts were merged in one wild fear
+That she for whose dear sake my heart had bled,
+Rather than her sweet eyes should know one tear,
+Was passing from me; that she might be dead;
+And, dying, had been sorely grieved with me,
+Because I made no answer to her plea.
+
+"O, ship, that sailest slowly, slowly on,
+Make haste before a wasting life is gone!
+Make haste that I may catch a fleeting breath!
+And true in life, be true e'en unto death.
+
+"O, ship, sail on! and bear me o'er the tide
+To her for whom my woman's heart once died.
+Sail, sail, O, ship! for she hath need of me,
+And I would know what her last wish may be!
+I have been true, so true, through all the past,
+Sail, sail, O, ship! I would not fail at last."
+
+So prayed my heart still o'er, and ever o'er,
+Until the weary lagging ship reached shore.
+All sad with fears that I had come too late,
+By that strange source whence men communicate,
+Though miles on miles of space between them lie,
+I spoke with Vivian: "Does she live? Reply."
+The answer came. "She lives, but hasten, friend!
+Her journey draweth swiftly to its end."
+
+Ah me! ah me! when each remembered spot,
+My own dear home, the lane that led to his--
+The fields, the woods, the lake, burst on my sight,
+Oh! then, Self rose up in asserting might;
+Oh, then, my bursting heart all else forgot,
+But those sweet early years of lost delight,
+Of hope, defeat, of anguish and of bliss.
+
+I have a theory, vague, undefined,
+That each emotion of the human mind,
+Love, pain or passion, sorrow or despair,
+Is a live spirit, dwelling in the air,
+Until it takes possession of some breast;
+And, when at length, grown weary of unrest,
+We rise up strong and cast it from the heart,
+And bid it leave us wholly, and depart,
+It does not die, it cannot die; but goes
+And mingles with some restless wind that blows
+About the region where it had its birth.
+And though we wander over all the earth,
+That spirit waits, and lingers, year by year,
+Invisible, and clothed like the air,
+Hoping that we may yet again draw near,
+And it may haply take us unaware,
+And once more find safe shelter in the breast
+It stirred of old with pleasure or unrest.
+
+Told by my heart, and wholly positive,
+Some old emotion long had ceased to live;
+That, were it called, it could not hear or come,
+Because it was so voiceless and so dumb,
+Yet, passing where it first sprang into life,
+My very soul has suddenly been rife
+With all the old intensity of feeling.
+It seemed a living spirit, which came stealing
+Into my heart from that departed day;
+Exiled emotion, which I fancied clay.
+
+So now into my troubled heart, above
+The present's pain and sorrow, crept the love
+And strife and passion of a by-gone hour,
+Possessed of all their olden might and power.
+'T was but a moment, and the spell was broken
+By pleasant words of greeting, gently spoken,
+And Vivian stood before us.
+                         But I saw
+In him the husband of my friend alone.
+The old emotions might at times return,
+And smold'ring fires leap up an hour and burn;
+But never yet had I transgressed God's law,
+By looking on the man I had resigned,
+With any hidden feeling in my mind,
+Which she, his wife, my friend, might not have known.
+He was but little altered. From his face
+The nonchalant and almost haughty grace,
+The lurking laughter waiting in his eyes,
+The years had stolen, leaving in their place
+A settled sadness, which was not despair,
+Nor was it gloom, nor weariness, nor care,
+But something like the vapor o'er the skies
+Of Indian summer, beautiful to see,
+But spoke of frosts, which had been and would be.
+There was that in his face which cometh not,
+Save when the soul has many a battle fought,
+And conquered self by constant sacrifice.
+
+There are two sculptors, who, with chisels fine,
+Render the plainest features half divine.
+All other artists strive and strive in vain,
+To picture beauty perfect and complete.
+Their statues only crumble at their feet,
+Without the master touch of Faith and Pain.
+And now his face, that perfect seemed before,
+Chiseled by these two careful artists, wore
+A look exalted, which the spirit gives
+When soul has conquered, and the body lives
+Subservient to its bidding.
+
+                         In a room
+Which curtained out the February gloom,
+And, redolent with perfume, bright with flowers,
+Rested the eye like one of Summer's bowers,
+I found my Helen, who was less mine now
+Than Death's; for on the marble of her brow,
+His seal was stamped indelibly.
+                         Her form
+Was like the slendor willow, when some storm
+Has stripped it bare of foliage. Her face,
+Pale always, now was ghastly in its hue:
+And, like two lamps, in some dark, hollow place,
+Burned her large eyes, grown more intensely blue.
+Her fragile hands displayed each cord and vein,
+And on her mouth was that drawn look, of pain
+Which is not uttered. Yet an inward light
+Shone through and made her wasted features bright
+With an unearthly beauty; and an awe
+Crept o'er me, gazing on her, for I saw
+She was so near to Heaven that I seemed
+To look upon the face of one redeemed.
+She turned the brilliant luster of her eyes
+Upon me. She had passed beyond surprise,
+Or any strong emotion linked with clay.
+But as I glided to her where she lay,
+A smile, celestial in its sweetness, wreathed
+Her pallid features. "Welcome home!" she breathed,
+"Dear hands! dear lips! I touch you and rejoice."
+And like the dying echo of a voice
+Were her faint tones that thrilled upon my ear.
+
+I fell upon my knees beside her bed;
+All agonies within my heart were wed,
+While to the aching numbness of my grief,
+Mine eyes refused the solace of a tear,--
+The tortured soul's most merciful relief.
+Her wasted hand caressed my bended head
+For one sad, sacred moment. Then she said,
+In that low tone so like the wind's refrain,
+"Maurine, my own! give not away to pain;
+The time is precious. Ere another dawn
+My soul may hear the summons and pass on.
+Arise, sweet sister! rest a little while,
+And when refreshed, come hither. I grow weak
+With every hour that passes. I must speak
+And make my dying wishes known to-night.
+Go now." And in the halo of her smile,
+Which seemed to fill the room with golden light,
+I turned and left her.
+                         Later in the gloom,
+Of coming night, I entered that dim room,
+And sat down by her. Vivian held her hand:
+And on the pillow at her side, there smiled
+The beauteous count'nance of a sleeping child.
+
+"Maurine," spoke Helen, "for three blissful years,
+My heart has dwelt in an enchanted land;
+And I have drank the sweetened cup of joy,
+Without one drop of anguish or alloy.
+And so, ere Pain embitters it with gall,
+Or sad-eyed Sorrow fills it full of tears,
+And bids me quaff, which is the Fate of all
+Who linger long upon this troubled way,
+God takes me to the realm of Endless Day,
+To mingle with his angels, who alone
+Can understand such bliss as I have known.
+I do not murmur. God has heaped my measure,
+In three short years, full to the brim with pleasure;
+And, from the fullness of an earthly love,
+I pass to th' Immortal arms above,
+Before I even brush the skirts of Woe.
+
+"I leave my aged parents here below,
+With none to comfort them. Maurine, sweet friend!
+Be kind to them, and love them to the end,
+Which may not be far distant.
+                         And I leave
+A soul immortal in your charge, Maurine.
+From this most holy, sad and sacred eve,
+Till God shall claim her, she is yours to keep,
+To love and shelter, to protect and guide."
+She touched the slumb'ring cherub at her side,
+And Vivian gently bore her, still asleep,
+And laid the precious burden on my breast.
+
+A solemn silence fell upon the scene.
+And when the sleeping infant smiled, and pressed
+My yielding bosom with her waxen cheek,
+I felt it would be sacrilege to speak,
+Such wordless joy possessed me.
+                         Oh! at last
+This infant, who, in that tear-blotted past,
+Had caused my soul such travail, was my own:
+Through all the lonely coming years to be
+Mine own to cherish--wholly mine alone.
+And what I mourned, so hopelessly as lost
+Was now restored, and given back to me.
+
+The dying voice continued:
+                         "In this child
+You yet have me, whose mortal life she cost.
+But all that was most pure and undefiled,
+And good within me, lives in her again.
+Maurine, my husband loves me; yet I know,
+Moving about the wide world, to and fro,
+And through, and in the busy haunts of men,
+Not always will his heart be dumb with woe,
+But sometime waken to a later love.
+Nay, Vivian, hush! my soul has passed above
+All selfish feelings! I would have it so.
+While I am with the angels, blest and glad,
+I would not have you sorrowing and sad,
+In loneliness go mourning to the end.
+But, love! I could not trust to any other
+The sacred office of a foster-mother
+To this sweet cherub, save my own heart-friend.
+
+"Teach her to love her father's name, Maurine,
+Where'er he wanders. Keep my memory green
+In her young heart, and lead her in her youth,
+To drink from th' eternal fount of Truth;
+Vex her not with sectarian discourse,
+Nor strive to teach her piety by force;
+Ply not her mind with harsh and narrow creeds,
+Nor frighten her with an avenging God,
+Who rules his subjects with a burning rod;
+But teach her that each mortal simply needs
+To grow in hate of hate and love of love,
+To gain a kingdom in the courts above.
+
+"Let her be free and natural as the flowers,
+That smile and nod throughout the summer hours.
+Let her rejoice in all the joys of youth,
+But first impress upon her mind this truth:
+No lasting happiness is e'er attained
+Save when the heart some _other_ seeks to please.
+The cup of selfish pleasures soon is drained,
+And full of gall and bitterness the lees.
+Next to her God, teach her to love her land;
+In her young bosom light the patriot's flame
+Until the heart within her shall expand
+With love and fervor at her country's name.
+"No coward-mother bears a valiant son.
+And this, my last wish, is an earnest one.
+
+"Maurine, my o'er-taxed strength is waning; you
+Have heard my wishes, and you will be true
+In death as you have been in life, my own!
+Now leave me for a little while alone
+With him--my husband. Dear love! I shall rest
+So sweetly with no care upon my breast.
+Good night, Maurine, come to me in the morning."
+
+But lo! the bridegroom with no further warning
+Came for her at the dawning of the day.
+She heard his voice, and smiled, and passed away
+Without a struggle.
+                         Leaning o'er her bed
+To give her greeting, I found but her clay,
+And Vivian bowed beside it.
+
+                         And I said,
+"Dear friend! my soul shall treasure thy request,
+And when the night of fever and unrest
+Melts in the morning of Eternity,
+Like a freed bird, then I will come to thee.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, sweet!
+I have been true; and soul with soul shall meet
+Before God's throne, and shall not be afraid.
+Thou gav'st me trust, and it was not betrayed.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, dear!
+The night is dark. I do not know how near
+The morn may be of that Eternal Day;
+I can but keep my faithful watch and pray.
+
+"I will come to thee in the morning, love!
+Wait for me on the Eternal Heights above.
+The way is troubled where my feet must climb,
+Ere I shall tread the mountain-top sublime.
+
+"I will come in the morning, O, mine own!
+But for a time must grope my way alone,
+Through tears and sorrow, till the Day shall dawn,
+And I shall hear the summons, and pass on.
+
+"I will come in the morning. Rest secure!
+My hope is certain and my faith is sure.
+After the gloom and darkness of the night
+I will come to thee with the morning light."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Three peaceful years slipped silently away.
+
+We dwelt together in my childhood's home,
+Aunt Ruth and I, and sunny-hearted May.
+She was a fair and most exquisite child;
+Her pensive face was delicate and mild
+Like her dead mother's; but through her dear eyes
+Her father smiled upon me, day by day.
+Afar in foreign countries did he roam,
+Now resting under Italy's blue skies,
+And now with Roy in Scotland.
+                         And he sent
+Brief, friendly letters, telling where he went
+And what he saw, addressed to May or me.
+And I would write and tell him how she grew--
+And how she talked about him o'er the sea
+In her sweet baby fashion; how she knew
+His picture in the album; how each day
+She knelt and prayed the blessed Lord would bring
+Her own papa back to his little May.
+
+It was a warm bright morning in the Spring.
+I sat in that same sunny portico,
+Where I was sitting seven years ago
+When Vivian came. My eyes were full of tears,
+As I looked back across the checkered years.
+How many were the changes they had brought!
+Pain, death, and sorrow! but the lesson taught
+To my young heart had been of untold worth.
+I had learned how to "suffer and grow strong"--
+That knowledge which best serves us here on earth,
+And brings reward in Heaven.
+
+                         Oh! how long
+The years had been since that June morning when
+I heard his step upon the walk, and yet
+I seemed to hear its echo still.
+                         Just then
+Down that same path I turned my eyes, tear-wet,
+And lo! the wanderer from a foreign land
+Stood there before me!--holding out his hand
+And smiling with those wond'rous eyes of old.
+
+To hide my tears, I ran and brought his child;
+But she was shy, and clung to me, when told
+This was papa, for whom her prayers were said.
+She dropped her eyes and shook her little head,
+And would not by his coaxing be beguiled,
+Or go to him.
+                         Aunt Ruth was not at home,
+And we two sat and talked, as strangers might,
+Of distant countries which we both had seen.
+But once I thought I saw his large eyes light
+With sudden passion, when there came a pause
+In our chit-chat, and then he spoke:
+                         "Maurine,
+I saw a number of your friends in Rome.
+We talked of you. They seemed surprised, because
+You were not 'mong the seekers for a name.
+They thought your whole ambition was for fame."
+
+"It might have been," I answered, "when my heart
+Had nothing else to fill it. Now my art
+Is but a recreation. I have _this_
+To love and live for, which I had not then."
+And, leaning down, I pressed a tender kiss
+Upon my child's fair brow.
+
+                         "And yet," he said,
+The old light leaping to his eyes again,
+"And yet, Maurine, they say you might have wed
+A noble Baron! one of many men
+Who laid their hearts and fortunes at your feet.
+Why won the bravest of them no return?"
+
+I bowed my head, nor dared his gaze to meet.
+On cheek and brow I felt the red blood burn,
+And strong emotion strangled speech.
+                         He rose
+And came and knelt beside me.
+                         "Sweet, my sweet!"
+He murmured softly, "God in Heaven knows
+How well I loved you seven years ago.
+He only knows my anguish, and my grief,
+When your own acts forced on me the belief
+That I had been your plaything and your toy.
+Yet from his lips I since have learned that Roy
+Held no place nearer than a friend and brother.
+And then a faint suspicion, undefined,
+Of what had been--was--might be, stirred my mind,
+And that great love, I thought died at a blow,
+Rose up within me, strong with hope and life.
+
+"Before all heaven and the angel mother
+Of this sweet child that slumbers on your heart,
+Maurine, Maurine, I claim you for my wife--
+Mine own, forever, until death shall part!"
+
+Through happy mists of upward welling tears,
+I leaned, and looked into his beauteous eyes.
+"Dear heart," I said, "if she who dwells above
+Looks down upon us, from yon azure skies,
+She can but bless us, knowing all these years
+My soul had yearned in silence for the love
+That crowned her life, and left mine own so bleak.
+I turned you from me for her fair, frail sake.
+For her sweet child's, and for my own, I take
+You back to be all mine, for evermore."
+
+Just then the child upon my breast awoke
+From her light sleep, and laid her downy cheek
+Against her father as he knelt by me.
+And this unconscious action seemed to be
+A silent blessing, which the mother spoke
+Gazing upon us from the mystic shore.
+
+
+
+TWO SUNSETS.
+
+
+In the fair morning of his life,
+  When his pure heart lay in his breast,
+  Panting, with all that wild unrest
+To plunge into the great world's strife
+
+That fills young hearts with mad desire,
+  He saw a sunset. Red and gold
+  The burning billows surged and rolled,
+And upward tossed their caps of fire.
+
+He looked. And as he looked, the sight
+  Sent from his soul through breast and brain
+  Such intense joy, it hurt like pain.
+His heart seemed bursting with delight.
+
+So near the Unknown seemed, so close
+  He might have grasped it with his hand.
+  He felt his inmost soul expand,
+As sunlight will expand a rose.
+
+One day he heard a singing strain--
+  A human voice, in bird-like trills.
+  He paused, and little rapture-rills
+Went trickling downward through each vein.
+
+And in his heart the whole day long,
+  As in a temple veiled and dim,
+  He kept and bore about with him
+The beauty of that singer's song.
+
+And then? But why relate what then?
+  His smouldering heart flamed into fire--
+  He had his one supreme desire.
+And plunged into the world of men.
+
+For years queen Folly held her sway.
+  With pleasures of the grosser kind
+  She fed his flesh and drugged his mind,
+Till, shamed, he sated turned away.
+
+He sought his boyhood's home. That hour
+  Triumphant should have been, in sooth,
+  Since he went forth an unknown youth,
+And came back crowned with wealth and power.
+
+The clouds made day a gorgeous bed;
+  He saw the splendor of the sky
+  With unmoved heart and stolid eye;
+He only knew the West was red.
+
+Then suddenly a fresh young voice
+  Rose, bird-like, from some hidden place,
+  He did not even turn his face;
+It struck him simply as a noise.
+
+He trod the old paths up and down.
+  Their rich-hued leaves by Fall winds whirled--
+  How dull they were--how dull the world--
+Dull even in the pulsing town.
+
+O! worst of punishments, that brings
+  A blunting of all finer sense,
+  A loss of feelings keen, intense,
+And dulls us to the higher things.
+
+O! penalty most dire, most sure,
+  Swift following after gross delights,
+  That we no more see beauteous sights,
+Or hear as hear the good and pure.
+
+O! shape more hideous and more dread
+  Than Vengeance takes in creed-taught minds,
+  This certain doom that blunts and blinds,
+And strikes the holiest feelings dead.
+
+
+
+UNREST.
+
+
+In the youth of the year, when the birds were building,
+  When the green was showing on tree and hedge,
+And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding
+  The world from zenith to outermost edge,
+My soul grew sad and longingly lonely!
+  I sighed for the season of sun and rose,
+And I said, "In the Summer and that time only
+  Lies sweet contentment and blest repose."
+
+With bee and bird for her maids of honor
+  Came Princess Summer in robes of green.
+And the King of day smiled down upon her
+  And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen.
+Fruit of their union and true love's pledges,
+  Beautiful roses bloomed day by day,
+And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges
+  Like royal children in sportive play.
+
+My restless soul for a little season
+  Reveled in rapture of glow and bloom,
+And then, like a subject who harbors treason,
+  Grew full of rebellion and gray with gloom.
+And I said, "I am sick of the Summer's blisses,
+  Of warmth and beauty, and nothing more.
+The full fruition my sad soul misses
+  That beauteous Fall time holds in store!"
+
+But now when the colors are almost blinding,
+  Burning and blending on bush and tree,
+And the rarest fruits are mine for the finding,
+  And the year is ripe as a year can be,
+My soul complains in the same old fashion;
+  Crying aloud in my troubled breast
+Is the same old longing, the same old passion.
+  O where is the treasure which men call rest?
+
+
+
+"ARTIST'S LIFE."
+
+
+Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote,
+  Mad with melody, rhythm--rife
+From the very first to the final note,
+  Give me his "Artist's Life!"
+
+It stirs my blood to my finger ends,
+  Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest,
+And all that is sweetest and saddest blends
+  Together within my breast.
+
+It brings back that night in the dim arcade,
+  In love's sweet morning and life's best prime.
+When the great brass orchestra played and played.
+  And set our thoughts to rhyme.
+
+It brings back that Winter of mad delights,
+  Of leaping pulses and tripping feet,
+And those languid moon-washed Summer nights
+  When we heard the band in the street.
+
+It brings back rapture and glee and glow,
+  It brings back passion and pain and strife,
+And so of all the waltzes I know,
+  Give me the "Artist's Life."
+
+For it is so full of the dear old time--
+  So full of the dear old friends I knew.
+And under its rhythm, and lilt, and rhyme,
+  I am always finding--_you_.
+
+
+
+NOTHING BUT STONES.
+
+
+I think I never passed so sad an hour,
+  Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night.
+The edifice from basement to the tower
+  Was one resplendent blaze of colored light.
+Up through broad aisles the stylish crowd was thronging,
+  Each richly robed like some king's bidden guest.
+"Here will I bring my sorrow and my longing,"
+  I said, "and here find rest."
+
+I heard the heavenly organ's voice of thunder,
+  It seemed to give me infinite relief.
+I wept. Strange eyes looked on in well-bred wonder.
+  I dried my tears: their gaze profaned my grief.
+Wrapt in the costly furs, and silks and laces
+  Beat alien hearts, that had no part with me.
+I could not read, in all those proud cold faces,
+  One thought of sympathy.
+
+I watched them bowing and devoutly kneeling,
+  Heard their responses like sweet waters roll.
+But only the glorious organ's sacred pealing
+  Seemed gushing from a full and fervent soul.
+I listened to the man of holy calling,
+  He spoke of creeds, and hailed his own as best;
+Of man's corruption and of Adam's falling,
+  But naught that gave me rest.
+
+Nothing that helped me bear the daily grinding
+  Of soul with body, heart with heated brain.
+Nothing to show the purpose of this blinding
+  And sometimes overwhelming sense of pain.
+And then, dear friend, I thought of thee, so lowly,
+  So unassuming, and so gently kind,
+And lo! a peace, a calm serene and holy,
+  Settled upon my mind.
+
+Ah, friend, my friend! one true heart, fond and tender,
+  That understands our troubles and our needs,
+Brings us more near to God than all the splendor
+  And pomp of seeming worship and vain creeds.
+One glance of thy dear eyes so full of feeling,
+  Doth bring me closer to the Infinite,
+Than all that throng of worldly people kneeling
+  In blaze of gorgeous light.
+
+
+
+THE COQUETTE.
+
+
+Alone she sat with her accusing heart,
+  That, like a restless comrade frightened sleep,
+And every thought that found her, left a dart
+  That hurt her so, she could not even weep.
+
+Her heart that once had been a cup well filled
+  With love's red wine, save for some drops of gall
+She knew was empty; though it had not spilled
+  Its sweets for one, but wasted them on all.
+
+She stood upon the grave of her dead truth,
+  And saw her soul's bright armor red with rust,
+And knew that all the riches of her youth
+  Were Dead Sea apples, crumbling into dust.
+
+Love that had turned to bitter, biting scorn,
+  Hearthstones despoiled, and homes made desolate,
+Made her cry out that she was ever born,
+  To loathe her beauty and to curse her fate.
+
+
+
+INEVITABLE.
+
+
+To-day I was so weary and I lay
+  In that delicious state of semi-waking,
+When baby, sitting with his nurse at play,
+  Cried loud for "mamma," all his toys forsaking.
+
+I was so weary and I needed rest,
+  And signed to nurse to bear him from the room.
+Then, sudden, rose and caught him to my breast,
+  And kissed the grieving mouth and cheeks of bloom.
+
+For swift as lightning came the thought to me,
+  With pulsing heart-throes and a mist of tears,
+Of days inevitable, that are to be,
+  If my fair darling grows to manhood's years;
+
+Days when he will not call for "mamma," when
+  The world with many a pleasure and bright joy,
+Shall tempt him forth into the haunts of men
+  And I shall lose the first place with my boy;
+
+When other homes and loves shall give delight,
+  When younger smiles and voices will seem best.
+And so I held him to my heart to-night,
+  Forgetting all my need of peace and rest.
+
+
+
+THE OCEAN OF SONG
+
+
+In a land beyond sight or conceiving,
+  In a land where no blight is, no wrong,
+No darkness, no graves, and no grieving,
+  There lies the great ocean of song.
+And its waves, oh, its waves unbeholden
+  By any save gods, and their kind,
+Are not blue, are not green, but are golden,
+  Like moonlight and sunlight combined.
+
+It was whispered to me that their waters
+  Were made from the gathered-up tears,
+That were wept by the sons and the daughters
+  Of long-vanished eras and spheres.
+Like white sands of heaven the spray is
+  That falls all the happy day long,
+And whoever it touches straightway is
+  Made glad with the spirit of song.
+
+Up, up to the clouds where their hoary
+  Crowned heads melt away in the skies,
+The beautiful mountains of glory
+  Each side of the song ocean rise.
+Here day is one splendor of sky light
+  Of God's light with beauty replete.
+Here night is not night, but is twilight,
+  Pervading, enfolding and sweet.
+
+Bright birds from all climes and all regions
+  That sing the whole glad summer long,
+Are dumb, till they flock here in legions
+  And lave in the ocean of song.
+It is here that the four winds of heaven,
+  The winds that do sing and rejoice,
+It is here they first came and were given
+  The secret of sound and a voice.
+
+Far down along beautiful beeches,
+  By night and by glorious day,
+The throng of the gifted ones reaches,
+  Their foreheads made white with the spray.
+And a few of the sons and the daughters
+  Of this kingdom, cloud-hidden from sight,
+Go down in the wonderful waters,
+  And bathe in those billows of light
+
+And their souls ever more are like fountains,
+  And liquid and lucent and strong,
+High over the tops of the mountains
+  Gush up the sweet billows of song.
+No drouth-time of waters can dry them.
+  Whoever has bathed in that sea,
+All dangers, all deaths, they defy them,
+  And are gladder than gods are, with glee.
+
+
+
+"IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN."
+
+
+We will be what we could be. Do not say,
+  "It might have been, had not or that, or this."
+No fate can keep us from the chosen way;
+        He only might, who _is_.
+
+We will do what we could do. Do not dream
+  Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.
+I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;
+        He does, who could achieve.
+
+We will climb where we could climb. Tell me not
+  Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.
+What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?
+        He always climbs who might.
+
+I do not like the phrase, "It might have been!"
+  It lacks all force, and life's best truths perverts:
+For I believe we have, and reach, and win,
+        Whatever our deserts.
+
+
+
+IF.
+
+
+Dear love, if you and I could sail away,
+  With snowy pennons to the winds unfurled,
+Across the waters of some unknown bay,
+  And find some island far from all the world;
+
+If we could dwell there, ever more alone,
+  While unrecorded years slip by apace,
+Forgetting and forgotten and unknown
+  By aught save native song-birds of the place;
+
+If Winter never visited that land,
+  And Summer's lap spilled o'er with fruits and flowers,
+And tropic trees cast shade on every hand,
+  And twined boughs formed sleep-inviting bowers;
+
+If from the fashions of the world set free,
+  And hid away from all its jealous strife,
+I lived alone for you, and you for me--
+  Ah! then, dear love, how sweet were wedded life.
+
+But since we dwell here in the crowded way,
+  Where hurrying throngs rush by to seek for gold,
+And all is common-place and work-a-day,
+  As soon as love's young honeymoon grows old;
+
+Since fashion rules and nature yields to art,
+  And life is hurt by daily jar and fret,
+'Tis best to shut such dreams down in the heart
+  And go our ways alone, love, and forget.
+
+
+
+GETHSEMANE.
+
+
+In golden youth when seems the earth
+A Summer-land of singing mirth,
+When souls are glad and hearts are light,
+And not a shadow lurks in sight,
+We do not know it, but there lies
+Somewhere veiled under evening skies
+A garden which we all must see--
+The garden of Gethsemane.
+
+With joyous steps we go our ways,
+Love lends a halo to our days;
+Light sorrows sail like clouds afar,
+We laugh, and say how strong we are.
+We hurry on; and hurrying, go
+Close to the border-land of woe,
+That waits for you, and waits for me--
+Forever waits Gethsemane.
+
+Down shadowy lanes, across strange streams
+Bridged over by our broken dreams;
+Behind the misty caps of years,
+Beyond the great salt fount of tears,
+The garden lies. Strive as you may,
+You cannot miss it in your way.
+All paths that have been, or shall be,
+Pass somewhere through Gethsemane.
+
+All those who journey, soon or late,
+Must pass within the garden's gate;
+Must kneel alone in darkness there,
+And battle with some fierce despair.
+God pity those who can not say,
+"Not mine but thine," who only pray,
+"Let this cup pass," and cannot see
+The _purpose_ in Gethsemane.
+
+
+
+DUST-SEALED.
+
+
+I know not wherefore, but mine eyes
+  See bloom, where other eyes see blight.
+They find a rainbow, a sunrise,
+  Where others but discern deep night.
+
+Men call me an enthusiast,
+  And say I look through gilded haze:
+Because where'er my gaze is cast,
+  I see some thing that calls for praise.
+
+I say, "Behold those lovely eyes--
+  That tinted cheek of flower-like grace."
+They answer in amused surprise:
+  "We thought it such a common face."
+
+I say, "Was ever scene more fair?
+  I seem to walk in Eden's bowers."
+They answer with a pitying air,
+  "The weeds are choking out the flowers."
+
+I know not wherefore, but God lent
+  A deeper vision to my sight.
+On whatsoe'er my gaze is bent
+  I catch the beauty Infinite;
+
+That underlying, hidden half
+  That all things hold of Deity.
+So let the dull crowd sneer and laugh--
+  Their eyes are blind, they cannot see.
+
+
+
+"ADVICE."
+
+
+I must do as you do? Your way I own
+  Is a very good way. And still,
+There are sometimes two straight roads to a town,
+  One over, one under the hill.
+
+You are treading the safe and the well-worn way,
+  That the prudent choose each time;
+And you think me reckless and rash to-day,
+  Because I prefer to climb.
+
+Your path is the right one, and so is mine.
+  We are not like peas in a pod,
+Compelled to lie in a certain line,
+  Or else be scattered abroad.
+
+'Twere a dull old world, methinks, my friend,
+  If we all went just one way;
+Yet our paths will meet no doubt at the end,
+  Though they lead apart to-day.
+
+You like the shade, and I like the sun;
+  You like an even pace,
+I like to mix with the crowd and run,
+  And then rest after the race.
+
+I like danger, and storm and strife,
+  You like a peaceful time;
+I like the passion and surge of life,
+  You like its gentle rhyme.
+
+You like buttercups, dewy sweet,
+  And crocuses, framed in snow;
+I like roses, born of the heat,
+  And the red carnation's glow.
+
+I must live my life, not yours, my friend,
+  For so it was written down;
+We must follow our given paths to the end,
+  But I trust we shall meet--in town.
+
+
+
+OVER THE BANISTERS.
+
+
+Over the banisters bends a face,
+  Daringly sweet and beguiling.
+Somebody stands in careless grace,
+  And watches the picture, smiling.
+
+The light burns dim in the hall below,
+  Nobody sees her standing,
+Saying good-night again, soft and slow,
+  Half way up to the landing.
+
+Nobody only the eyes of brown,
+  Tender and full of meaning,
+That smile on the fairest face in town,
+  Over the banisters leaning.
+
+Tired and sleepy, with drooping head,
+  I wonder why she lingers;
+Now, when the good-nights all are said,
+  Why somebody holds her fingers.
+
+He holds her fingers and draws her down,
+  Suddenly growing bolder,
+Till the loose hair drops its masses brown
+  Like a mantle over his shoulder.
+
+Over the banisters soft hands, fair,
+  Brush his cheeks like a feather,
+And bright brown tresses and dusky hair,
+  Meet and mingle together.
+
+There's a question asked, there's a swift caress,
+  She has flown like a bird from the hallway,
+But over the banisters drops a "yes,"
+  That shall brighten the world for him alway.
+
+
+
+MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER.
+
+
+Though with gods the world is cumbered,
+Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
+Never god was known to be
+Who had not his devotee.
+So I dedicate to mine,
+Here in verse, my temple-shrine.
+
+'Tis not Ares,--mighty Mars,
+Who can give success in wars.
+'Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep
+Guard above us while we sleep,
+'Tis not Venus, she whose duty
+'Tis to give us love and beauty;
+Hail to these, and others, after
+Momus, gleesome god of laughter.
+
+Quirinus would guard my health!
+Plutus would insure me wealth
+Mercury looks after trade,
+Hera smiles on youth and maid.
+All are kind, I own their worth,
+After Momus, god of mirth.
+
+Though Apollo, out of spite,
+Hides away his face of light.
+Though Minerva looks askance,
+Deigning me no smiling glance,
+Kings and queens may envy me
+While I claim the god of glee.
+
+Wisdom wearies, Love has wings--
+Wealth makes burdens, Pleasure stings,
+Glory proves a thorny crown--
+So all gifts the gods throw down
+Bring their pains and troubles after;
+All save Momus, god of laughter.
+He alone gives constant joy,
+Hail to Momus, happy boy.
+
+
+
+I DREAM.
+
+
+Oh, I have dreams. I sometimes dream of Life
+  In the full meaning of that splendid word.
+  Its subtle music which few men have heard,
+Though all may hear it, sounding through earth's strife.
+Its mountain heights by mystic breezes kissed,
+  Lifting their lovely peaks above the dust;
+  Its treasures which no touch of time can rust,
+Its emerald seas, its dawns of amethyst,
+  Its certain purpose, its serene repose,
+  Its usefulness, that finds no hour for woes,
+          This is my dream of Life.
+
+Yes, I have dreams. I ofttimes dream of Love
+  As radiant and brilliant as a star.
+  As changeless, too, as that fixed light afar
+Which glorifies vast worlds of space above.
+Strong as the tempest when it holds its breath,
+  Before it bursts in fury; and as deep
+  As the unfathomed seas, where lost worlds sleep
+And sad as birth, and beautiful as death.
+  As fervent as the fondest soul could crave,
+  Yet holy as the moonlight on a grave.
+          This is my dream of Love.
+
+Yes, yes, I dream. One oft-recurring dream,
+  Is beautiful and comforting and blest.
+  Complete with certain promises of rest.
+Divine content, and ecstasy supreme.
+When that strange essence, author of all faith,
+  That subtle something, which cries for the light,
+  Like a lost child who wanders in the night,
+Shall solve the mighty mystery of Death,
+  Shall find eternal progress, or sublime
+  And satisfying slumber for all time.
+          This is my dream of Death.
+
+
+
+THE PAST.
+
+
+I fling my past behind me, like a robe
+Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.
+I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep
+And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes
+Of Oriental splendor, or complain
+That I must needs discard it? I can weave
+Upon the shuttles of the future years
+A fabric far more durable. Subdued,
+It may be, in the blending of its hues,
+Where somber shades commingle, yet the gleam
+Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through,
+While over all a fadeless luster lies,
+And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears,
+My new robe shall be richer than the old.
+
+
+
+THE SONNET.
+
+
+Alone it stands in Poesy's fair land,
+  A temple by the muses set apart;
+  A perfect structure of consummate art,
+By artists builded and by genius planned.
+Beyond the reach of the apprentice hand,
+  Beyond the ken of the untutored heart,
+  Like a fine carving in a common mart,
+Only the favored few will understand.
+A _chef-d'oeuvre_ toiled over with great care,
+  Yet which the unseeing careless crowd goes by,
+A plainly set, but well-cut solitaire,
+An ancient bit of pottery, too rare
+  To please or hold aught save the special eye,
+These only with the sonnet can compare.
+
+
+
+SECRETS.
+
+
+Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone;
+  Why, even God's stupendous secret, Death,
+  We one by one, with our expiring breath,
+Do pale with wonder seize and make our own;
+The bosomed treasures of the earth are shown,
+  Despite her careful hiding; and the air
+  Yields its mysterious marvels in despair
+To swell the mighty store-house of things known.
+In vain the sea expostulates and raves;
+  It cannot cover from the keen world's sight
+  The curious wonders of its coral caves.
+And so, despite thy caution or thy tears,
+The prying fingers of detective years
+  Shall drag _thy_ secret out into the light.
+
+
+
+A DREAM.
+
+
+That was a curious dream; I thought the three
+  Great planets that are drawing near the sun
+  With such unerring certainty, begun
+To talk together in a mighty glee.
+They spoke of vast convulsions which would be
+  Throughout the solar system--the rare fun
+  Of watching haughty stars drop, one by one,
+And vanish in a seething vapor sea.
+
+I thought I heard them comment on the earth--
+  That small dark object--doomed beyond a doubt.
+  They wondered if live creatures moved about
+Its tiny surface, deeming it of worth.
+  And then they laughed--'twas such a ringing shout
+That I awoke and joined too in their mirth.
+
+
+
+USELESSNESS.
+
+
+Let mine not be that saddest fate of all
+  To live beyond my greater self; to see
+  My faculties decaying, as the tree
+Stands stark and helpless while its green leaves fall.
+Let me hear rather the imperious call,
+  Which all men dread, in my glad morning time,
+  And follow death ere I have reached my prime,
+Or drunk the strengthening cordial of life's gall.
+The lightning's stroke or the fierce tempest blast
+  Which fells the green tree to the earth to-day
+Is kinder than the calm that lets it last,
+  Unhappy witness of its own decay.
+  May no man ever look on me and say,
+"She lives, but all her usefulness is past."
+
+
+
+WILL.
+
+
+There is no chance, no destiny, no fate,
+  Can circumvent or hinder or control
+  The firm resolve of a determined soul.
+Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;
+All things give way before it, soon or late.
+  What obstacle can stay the mighty force
+  Of the sea-seeking river in its course,
+Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?
+
+Each well-born soul must win what it deserves.
+Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate
+  Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,
+  Whose slightest action or inaction serves
+The one great aim.
+                    Why, even Death stands still,
+And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.
+
+
+
+WINTER RAIN.
+
+
+Falling upon the frozen world last night,
+  I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain--
+  Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain;
+The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might,
+Far better had the fixedness of white
+And uncomplaining snows--which make no sign,
+But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine--
+Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.
+Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,
+  I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.
+  Though sinewy Fate deals her most skillful blow,
+I do not waste the gall now of my tears,
+But feed my pride upon its bitter, while
+I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile.
+
+
+
+APPLAUSE.
+
+
+I hold it one of the sad certain laws
+  Which makes our failures sometimes seem more kind
+  Than that success which brings sure loss behind--
+True greatness dies, when sounds the world's applause
+Fame blights the object it would bless, because
+  Weighed down with men's expectancy, the mind
+  Can no more soar to those far heights, and find
+That freedom which its inspiration was.
+When once we listen to its noisy cheers
+  Or hear the populace' approval, then
+We catch no more the music of the spheres,
+  Or walk with gods, and angels, but with men.
+Till, impotent from our self-conscious fears,
+The plaudits of the world turn into sneers.
+
+
+
+LIFE.
+
+
+Life, like a romping schoolboy, full of glee,
+  Doth bear us on his shoulders for a time.
+  There is no path too steep for him to climb,
+With strong, lithe limbs, as agile and as free,
+As some young roe, he speeds by vale and sea,
+  By flowery mead, by mountain peak sublime,
+  And all the world seems motion set to rhyme,
+Till, tired out, he cries, "Now carry me!"
+  In vain we murmur, "Come," Life says, "fair play!"
+And seizes on us. God! he goads us so!
+  He does not let us sit down all the day.
+At each new step we feel the burden grow,
+Till our bent backs seem breaking as we go,
+  Watching for Death to meet us on the way.
+
+
+
+BURDENED.
+
+"Genius, a man's weapon, a woman's burden."--_Lamartine._
+
+
+Dear God! there is no sadder fate in life,
+  Than to be burdened so that you can not
+  Sit down contented with the common lot
+Of happy mother and devoted wife.
+
+To feel your brain wild and your bosom rife
+  With all the sea's commotion; to be fraught
+  With fires and frenzies which you have not sought,
+And weighed down with the wide world's weary strife.
+
+To feel a fever alway in your breast,
+  To lean and hear half in affright, half shame.
+  A loud-voiced public boldly mouth your name,
+To reap your hard-sown harvest in unrest,
+  And know, however great your meed of fame,
+You are but a weak woman at the best.
+
+
+
+THE STORY.
+
+
+They met each other in the glade--
+  She lifted up her eyes;
+Alack the day! Alack the maid!
+  She blushed in swift surprise.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from lifting up the eyes.
+
+The pail was full, the path was steep--
+  He reached to her his hand;
+She felt her warm young pulses leap,
+  But did not understand.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from clasping hand with hand.
+
+She sat beside him in the wood--
+  He wooed with words and sighs;
+Ah! love in spring seems sweet and good,
+  And maidens are not wise.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from listing lovers' sighs.
+
+The summer sun shone fairly down,
+  The wind blew from the south;
+As blue eyes gazed in eyes of brown,
+  His kiss fell on her mouth.
+Alas! alas! the woe that comes from kisses on the mouth.
+
+And now the autumn time is near,
+  The lover roves away,
+With breaking heart and falling tear,
+  She sits the livelong day.
+Alas! alas! for breaking hearts when lovers rove away.
+
+
+
+LET THEM GO.
+
+
+Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams
+  In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight
+That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams,
+  And shoot the shadows through and through with light?
+  What matters one lost vision of the night?
+                          Let the dream go!
+
+Let the hope set. Are there not other hopes
+  That yet shall rise like new stars in thy sky?
+Not long a soul in sullen darkness gropes
+  Before some light is lent it from on high;
+  What folly to think happiness gone by!
+                          Let the hope set!
+
+Let the joy fade. Are there not other joys,
+  Like frost-bound bulbs, that yet shall start and bloom?
+Severe must be the winter that destroys
+  The hardy roots locked in their silent tomb.
+  What cares the earth for her brief time of gloom?
+                          Let the joy fade!
+
+Let the love die. Are there not other loves
+  As beautiful and full of sweet unrest,
+Flying through space like snowy-pinioned doves?
+  They yet shall come and nestle in thy breast,
+  And thou shalt say of each, "Lo, this is best!"
+                          Let the love die!
+
+
+
+THE ENGINE.
+
+
+Into the gloom of the deep, dark night,
+  With panting breath and a startled scream;
+Swift as a bird in sudden flight
+  Darts this creature of steel and steam.
+
+Awful dangers are lurking nigh,
+  Rocks and chasms are near the track,
+But straight by the light of its great white eye
+  It speeds through the shadows, dense and black.
+
+Terrible thoughts and fierce desires
+  Trouble its mad heart many an hour,
+Where burn and smoulder the hidden fires,
+  Coupled ever with might and power.
+
+It hates, as a wild horse hates the rein,
+  The narrow track by vale and hill;
+And shrieks with a cry of startled pain,
+  And longs to follow its own wild will.
+
+Oh, what am I but an engine, shod
+  With muscle and flesh, by the hand of God,
+Speeding on through the dense, dark night,
+  Guided alone by the soul's white light.
+
+Often and often my mad heart tires,
+  And hates its way with a bitter hate,
+And longs to follow its own desires,
+  And leave the end in the hand of fate.
+
+O mighty engine of steel and steam;
+  O human engine of blood and bone,
+Follow the white light's certain beam--
+  There lies safety and there alone.
+
+The narrow track of fearless truth,
+  Lit by the soul's great eye of light,
+O passionate heart of restless youth,
+  Alone will carry you through the night.
+
+
+
+NOTHING NEW.
+
+
+From the dawn of spring till the year grows hoary,
+  Nothing is new that is done or said,
+The leaves are telling the same old story--
+  "Budding, bursting, dying, dead."
+And ever and always the wild bird's chorus
+  Is "coming, building, flying, fled."
+
+Never the round earth roams or ranges
+  Out of her circuit, so old, so old,
+And the smile o' the sun knows but these changes--
+  Beaming, burning, tender, cold,
+As Spring time softens or Winter estranges
+  The mighty heart of this orb of gold.
+
+From our great sire's birth to the last morn's breaking
+  There were tempest, sunshine, fruit and frost,
+And the sea was calm or the sea was shaking
+  His mighty main like a lion crossed,
+And ever this cry the heart was making--
+  Longing, loving, losing, lost.
+
+Forever the wild wind wanders, crying,
+  Southerly, easterly, north and west,
+And one worn song the fields are sighing,
+  "Sowing, growing, harvest, rest,"
+And the tired thought of the world, replying
+  Like an echo to what is last and best,
+        Murmurs--"Rest."
+
+
+
+DREAMS.
+
+
+Thank God for dreams! I, desolate and lone,
+  In the dark curtained night, did seem to be
+The centre where all golden sun-rays shone,
+  And, sitting there, held converse sweet with thee.
+No shadow lurked between us; all was bright
+  And beautiful as in the hours gone by,
+I smiled, and was rewarded by the light
+  Of olden days soft beaming from thine eye.
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+I thought the birds all listened; for thy voice
+  Pulsed through the air, like beat of silver wings.
+It made each chamber of my soul rejoice
+  And thrilled along my heart's tear-rusted strings.
+As some devout and ever-prayerful nun
+  Tells her bright beads, and counts them o'er and o'er,
+Thy golden words I gathered, one by one,
+  And slipped them into memory's precious store.
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+My lips met thine in one ecstatic kiss.
+  Hand pressed in hand, and heart to heart we sat.
+Why even now I am surcharged with bliss--
+  With joy supreme, if I but think of that.
+No fear of separation or of change
+  Crept in to mar our sweet serene content.
+In that blest vision, nothing could estrange
+  Our wedded souls, in perfect union blent.
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+Thank God for dreams! when nothing else is left.
+  When the sick soul, all tortured with its pain,
+Knowing itself forever more bereft,
+  Finds waiting hopeless and all watching vain,
+When empty arms grow rigid with their ache,
+  When eyes are blinded with sad tides of tears,
+When stricken hearts do suffer, yet not break,
+  For loss of those who come not with the years--
+Thank God, thank God for dreams!
+
+
+
+HELENA.
+
+
+Last night I saw Helena. She whose praise
+  Of late all men have sounded. She for whom
+  Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb
+Rather than live without her all his days.
+
+Wise men go mad who look upon her long,
+  She is so ripe with dangers. Yet meanwhile
+  I find no fascination in her smile,
+Although I make her theme of this poor song.
+
+"Her golden tresses?" yes, they may be fair,
+  And yet to me each shining silken tress
+  Seems robbed of beauty and all lusterless--
+Too many hands have stroked Helena's hair.
+
+(I know a little maiden so demure
+  She will not let her one true lover's hands
+  In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands,
+So dainty-minded is she, and so pure.)
+
+"Her great dark eyes that flash like gems at night?
+  Large, long-lashed eyes and lustrous?" that may be,
+  And yet they are not beautiful to me.
+Too many hearts have sunned in their delight.
+
+(I mind me of two tender blue eyes, hid
+  So underneath white curtains, and so veiled
+  That I have sometimes plead for hours, and failed
+To see more than the shyly lifted lid.)
+
+"Her perfect mouth so like a carved kiss?"
+  "Her honeyed mouth, where hearts do, fly-like, drown?"
+  I would not taste its sweetness for a crown;
+Too many lips have drank its nectared bliss.
+
+(I know a mouth whose virgin dew, undried,
+  Lies like a young grape's bloom, untouched and sweet,
+  And though I plead in passion at her feet,
+She would not let me brush it if I died.)
+
+In vain, Helena! though wise men may vie
+  For thy rare smile or die from loss of it,
+  Armored by my sweet lady's trust, I sit,
+And know thou art not worth her faintest sigh.
+
+
+
+NOTHING REMAINS.
+
+
+Nothing remains of unrecorded ages
+  That lie in the silent cemetery of time;
+Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages,
+  Their glory may have been indeed sublime.
+How weak do seem our strivings after power,
+  How poor the grandest efforts of our brains,
+If out of all we are, in one short hour
+            Nothing remains.
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Spaces,
+  Time and decay uproot the forest trees.
+Even the mighty mountains leave their places,
+  And sink their haughty heads beneath strange seas;
+The great earth writhes in some convulsive spasm
+  And turns the proudest cities into plains.
+The level sea becomes a yawning chasm--
+            Nothing remains.
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Forces,
+  The sad seas cease complaining and grow dry;
+Rivers are drained and altered in their courses,
+  Great stars pass out and vanish from the sky.
+Ideas die and old religions perish,
+  Our rarest pleasures and our keenest pains
+Are swept away with all we hate or cherish--
+            Nothing remains.
+
+Nothing remains but the Eternal Nameless
+  And all-creative spirit of the Law,
+Uncomprehended, comprehensive, blameless,
+  Invincible, resistless, with no flaw;
+So full of love it must create forever,
+  Destroying that it may create again
+Persistent and perfecting in endeavor,
+  It yet must bring forth angels, after men--
+            This, this remains.
+
+
+
+LEAN DOWN.
+
+
+Lean down and lift me higher, Josephine!
+From the Eternal Hills hast thou not seen
+How I do strive for heights? but lacking wings,
+I cannot grasp at once those better things
+To which I in my inmost soul aspire.
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+I grope along--not desolate or sad,
+For youth and hope and health all keep me glad;
+But too bright sunlight, sometimes, makes us blind,
+And I do grope for heights I cannot find.
+Oh, thou must know my one supreme desire--
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+Not long ago we trod the self-same way.
+Thou knowest how, from day to fleeting day
+Our souls were vexed with trifles, and our feet,
+Were lured aside to by-paths which seemed sweet,
+But only served to hinder and to tire;
+Lean down and lift me higher.
+
+Thou hast gone onward to the heights serene,
+And left me here, my loved one, Josephine;
+I am content to stay until the end,
+For life is full of promise; but, my friend,
+Canst thou not help me in my best desire
+And lean, and lift me higher?
+
+Frail as thou wert, thou hast grown strong and wise,
+And quick to understand and sympathize
+With all a full soul's needs. It must be so,
+Thy year with God hath made thee great I know.
+Thou must see how I struggle and aspire--
+Oh, warm me with a breath of heavenly fire,
+And lean, and lift me higher.
+
+
+
+COMRADES.
+
+
+I and my Soul are alone to-day,
+  All in the shining weather;
+We were sick of the world, and we put it away,
+  So we could rejoice together.
+
+Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky
+  Is mixing a rare, sweet wine,
+In the burnished gold of his cup on high,
+  For me, and this Soul of mine.
+
+We find it a safe and royal drink,
+  And a cure for every pain;
+It helps us to love, and helps us to think,
+  And strengthens body and brain.
+
+And sitting here, with my Soul alone,
+  Where the yellow sun-rays fall,
+Of all the friends I have ever known
+  I find it the _best_ of all.
+
+We rarely meet when the World is near,
+  For the World hath a pleasing art
+And brings me so much that is bright and dear
+  That my Soul it keepeth apart.
+
+But when I grow weary of mirth and glee,
+  Of glitter, and glow, and splendor,
+Like a tried old friend it comes to me,
+  With a smile that is sad and tender.
+
+And we walk together as two friends may,
+  And laugh, and drink God's wine.
+Oh, a royal comrade any day
+  I find this Soul of mine.
+
+
+
+WHAT GAIN?
+
+
+Now, while thy rounded cheek is fresh and fair,
+  While beauty lingers, laughing, in thine eyes,
+Ere thy young heart shall meet the stranger, "Care,"
+  Or thy blithe soul become the home of sighs,
+Were it not kindness should I give thee rest
+By plunging this sharp dagger in thy breast?
+Dying so young, with all thy wealth of youth,
+What part of life wouldst thou not claim, in sooth?
+                Only the woe,
+        Sweetheart, that sad souls know.
+
+Now, in this sacred hour of supreme trust,
+  Of pure delight and palpitating joy,
+Ere change can come, as come it surely must,
+  With jarring doubts and discords, to destroy
+Our far too perfect peace, I pray thee, Sweet,
+Were it not best for both of us, and meet,
+If I should bring swift death to seal our bliss?
+Dying so full of joy, what could we miss?
+                Nothing but tears,
+        Sweetheart, and weary years.
+
+How slight the action! Just one well-aimed blow
+  Here where I feel thy warm heart's pulsing beat,
+And then another through my own, and so
+  Our perfect union would be made complete:
+So past all parting, I should claim thee mine.
+Dead with our youth, and faith, and love divine,
+Should we not keep the best of life that way?
+What shall we gain by living day on day?
+                What shall we gain,
+        Sweetheart, but bitter pain?
+
+
+
+LIFE.
+
+
+I feel the great immensity of life.
+All little aims slip from me, and I reach
+My yearning soul toward the Infinite.
+
+As when a mighty forest, whose green leaves
+Have shut it in, and made it seem a bower
+For lovers' secrets, or for children's sports,
+Casts all its clustering foliage to the winds,
+And lets the eye behold it, limitless,
+And full of winding mysteries of ways:
+So now with life that reaches out before,
+And borders on the unexplained Beyond.
+
+I see the stars above me, world on world:
+I hear the awful language of all Space;
+I feel the distant surging of great seas,
+That hide the secrets of the Universe
+In their eternal bosoms; and I know
+That I am but an atom of the Whole.
+
+
+
+TO THE WEST.
+
+[In an interview with Lawrence Barrett, he said: "The literature of the New
+World must look to the West for its poetry."]
+
+
+Not to the crowded East,
+  Where, in a well-worn groove,
+Like the harnessed wheel of a great machine,
+  The trammeled mind must move--
+Where Thought must follow the fashion of Thought,
+Or be counted vulgar and set at naught.
+
+Not to the languid South,
+  Where the mariners of the brain
+Are lured by the Sirens of the Sense,
+  And wrecked upon its main--
+Where Thought is rocked, on the sweet wind's breath,
+To a torpid sleep that ends in death.
+
+But to the mighty West,
+  That chosen realm of God,
+Where Nature reaches her hands to men,
+  And Freedom walks abroad--
+Where mind is King, and fashion is naught:
+There shall the New World look for thought.
+
+To the West, the beautiful West,
+  She shall look, and not in vain--
+For out of its broad and boundless store
+  Come muscle, and nerve, and brain.
+Let the bards of the East and the South be dumb--
+For out of the West shall the Poets come.
+
+They shall come with souls as great
+  As the cradle where they were rocked;
+They shall come with brows that are touched with fire,
+  Like the Gods with whom they have walked;
+They shall come from the West in royal state,
+The Singers and Thinkers for whom we wait.
+
+
+
+THE LAND OF CONTENT.
+
+
+I set out for the Land of Content,
+  By the gay crowded pleasure-highway,
+With laughter, and jesting, I went
+  With the mirth-loving throng for a day;
+  Then I knew I had wandered astray,
+For I met returned pilgrims, belated,
+Who said, "We are weary and sated,
+But we found not the Land of Content."
+
+I turned to the steep path of fame,
+  I said, "It is over yon height--
+This land with the beautiful name--
+  Ambition will lend me its light."
+  But I paused in my journey ere night,
+For the way grew so lonely and troubled;
+I said--my anxiety doubled--
+"This is not the road to Content."
+
+Then I joined the great rabble and throng
+  That frequents the moneyed world's mart;
+But the greed, and the grasping and wrong,
+  Left me only one wish--to depart.
+  And sickened, and saddened at heart,
+I hurried away from the gateway,
+For my soul and my spirit said straightway,
+"This is not the road to Content."
+
+Then weary in body and brain,
+  An overgrown path I detected,
+And I said "I will hide with my pain
+  In this by-way, unused and neglected."
+  Lo! it led to the realm God selected
+To crown with his best gifts of beauty,
+And through the dark pathway of duty
+I came to the land of Content.
+
+
+
+A SONG OF LIFE.
+
+
+In the rapture of life and of living,
+  I lift up my heart and rejoice,
+And I thank the great Giver for giving
+  The soul of my gladness a voice.
+In the glow of the glorious weather,
+  In the sweet-scented sensuous air,
+My burdens seem light as a feather--
+  They are nothing to bear.
+
+In the strength and the glory of power,
+  In the pride and the pleasure of wealth,
+(For who dares dispute me my dower
+  Of talents and youth-time and health?)
+I can laugh at the world and its sages--
+  I am greater than seers who are sad,
+For he is most wise in all ages
+  Who knows how to be glad.
+
+I lift up my eyes to Apollo,
+  The god of the beautiful days,
+And my spirit soars off like a swallow
+  And is lost in the light of its rays.
+Are you troubled and sad? I beseech you
+  Come out of the shadows of strife--
+Come out in the sun while I teach you
+  The secret of life.
+
+Come out of the world--come above it--
+  Up over its crosses and graves,
+Though the green earth is fair and I love it,
+  We must love it as masters, not slaves.
+Come up where the dust never rises--
+  But only the perfume of flowers--
+And your life shall be glad with surprises
+  Of beautiful hours.
+Come up where the rare golden wine is
+  Apollo distills in my sight,
+And your life shall be happy as mine is,
+  And as full of delight.
+
+
+
+WARNING.
+
+
+High in the heavens I saw the moon this morning,
+  Albeit the sun shone bright;
+Unto my soul it spoke, in voice of warning,
+        "Remember Night!"
+
+
+
+THE CHRISTIAN'S NEW YEAR PRAYER.
+
+
+Thou Christ of mine, thy gracious ear low bending
+  Through these glad New Year days,
+To catch the countless prayers to Heaven ascending--
+  For e'en hard hearts do raise
+Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,
+  Or freedom from all care--
+Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,
+  Hear now a Christian's prayer.
+
+Let this young year that, silent, walks beside me,
+  Be as a means of grace
+To lead me up, no matter what betide me,
+  Nearer the Master's face.
+If it need be that ere I reach the fountain
+  Where Living waters play,
+My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,
+  Then cast them in my way.
+
+If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses
+  To shape it for thy crown,
+Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,
+  With sorrows bear it down.
+Do what thou wilt to mold me to thy pleasure,
+  And if I should complain,
+Heap full of anguish yet another measure
+  Until I smile at pain.
+Send dangers--deaths! but tell me how to dare them;
+  Enfold me in thy care.
+Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them--
+  This is a Christian's prayer.
+
+
+
+IN THE NIGHT.
+
+
+Sometimes at night, when I sit and write,
+  I hear the strangest things,--
+As my brain grows hot with burning thought,
+  That struggles for form and wings,
+I can hear the beat of my swift blood's feet,
+  As it speeds with a rush and a whir
+From heart to brain and back again,
+  Like a race-horse under the spur.
+
+With my soul's fine ear I listen and hear
+  The tender Silence speak,
+As it leans on the breast of Night to rest,
+  And presses his dusky cheek.
+And the darkness turns in its sleep, and yearns
+  For something that is kin;
+And I hear the hiss of a scorching kiss,
+  As it folds and fondles Sin.
+
+In its hurrying race through leagues of space,
+  I can hear the Earth catch breath,
+As it heaves and moans, and shudders and groans,
+  And longs for the rest of Death.
+And high and far, from a distant star,
+  Whose name is unknown to me,
+I hear a voice that says, "Rejoice,
+  For I keep ward o'er thee!"
+
+Oh, sweet and strange are the sounds that range
+  Through the chambers of the night;
+And the watcher who waits by the dim, dark gates,
+  May hear, if he lists aright.
+
+
+
+GOD'S MEASURE.
+
+
+God measures souls by their capacity
+For entertaining his best Angel, Love.
+Who loveth most is nearest kin to God,
+Who is all Love, or Nothing.
+                             He who sits
+And looks out on the palpitating world,
+And feels his heart swell in him large enough
+To hold all men within it, he is near
+His great Creator's standard, though he dwells
+Outside the pale of churches, and knows not
+A feast-day from a fast-day, or a line
+Of Scripture even. What God wants of us
+Is that outreaching bigness that ignores
+All littleness of aims, or loves, or creeds,
+And clasps all Earth and Heaven in its embrace.
+
+
+
+A MARCH SNOW.
+
+
+Let the old snow be covered with the new:
+  The trampled snow, so soiled, and stained, and sodden.
+Let it be hidden wholly from our view
+  By pure white flakes, all trackless and untrodden.
+When Winter dies, low at the sweet Spring's feet,
+Let him be mantled in a clean, white sheet.
+
+Let the old life be covered by the new:
+  The old past life so full of sad mistakes,
+Let it be wholly hidden from the view
+  By deeds as white and silent as snow-flakes.
+Ere this earth life melts in the eternal Spring
+Let the white mantle of repentance, fling
+Soft drapery about it, fold on fold,
+Even as the new snow covers up the old.
+
+
+
+AFTER THE BATTLES ARE OVER.
+
+[Read at Re-union of the G. A. T., Madison, Wis., July 4, 1872.]
+
+
+After the battles are over,
+  And the war drums cease to beat,
+And no more is heard on the hillside
+  The sound of hurrying feet,
+Full many a noble action,
+  That was done in the days of strife,
+By the soldier is half forgotten,
+  In the peaceful walks of life.
+
+Just as the tangled grasses,
+  In Summer's warmth and light,
+Grow over the graves of the fallen
+  And hide them away from sight,
+So many an act of valor,
+  And many a deed sublime,
+Fade from the mind of the soldier,
+  O'ergrown by the grass of time.
+
+Not so should they be rewarded,
+  Those noble deeds of old;
+They should live forever and ever,
+  When the heroes' hearts are cold.
+Then rally, ye brave old comrades,
+  Old veterans, re-unite!
+Uproot Time's tangled grasses--
+  Live over the march, and the fight.
+
+Let Grant come up from the White House,
+  And clasp each brother's hand,
+First chieftain of the army,
+  Last chieftain of the land.
+Let him rest from a nation's burdens,
+  And go, in thought, with his men,
+Through the fire and smoke of Shiloh,
+  And save the day again.
+
+This silent hero of battles
+  Knew no such word as defeat.
+It was left for the rebels' learning,
+  Along with the word--retreat.
+He was not given to talking,
+  But he found that guns would preach
+In a way that was more convincing
+  Than fine and flowery speech.
+
+Three cheers for the grave commander
+  Of the grand old Tennessee!
+Who won the first great battle--
+  Gained the first great victory.
+His motto was always "Conquer,"
+  "Success" was his countersign,
+And "though it took all Summer,"
+  He kept fighting upon "that line."
+
+Let Sherman, the stern old General,
+  Come rallying with his men;
+Let them march once more through Georgia
+  And down to the sea again.
+Oh! that grand old tramp to Savannah,
+  Three hundred miles to the coast,
+It will live in the heart of the nation,
+  Forever its pride and boast.
+
+As Sheridan went to the battle,
+  When a score of miles away,
+He has come to the feast and banquet,
+  By the iron horse, to-day.
+Its pace is not much swifter
+  Than the pace of that famous steed
+Which bore him down to the contest
+  And saved the day by his speed.
+
+Then go over the ground to-day, boys,
+  Tread each remembered spot.
+It will be a gleesome journey,
+  On the swift-shod feet of thought;
+You can fight a bloodless battle,
+  You can skirmish along the route,
+But it's not worth while to forage,
+  There are rations enough without.
+
+Don't start if you hear the cannon,
+  It is not the sound of doom,
+It does not call to the contest--
+  To the battle's smoke and gloom.
+"Let us have peace," was spoken,
+  And lo! peace ruled again;
+And now the nation is shouting,
+  Through the cannon's voice, "Amen."
+
+O boys who besieged old Vicksburg,
+  Can time e'er wash away
+The triumph of her surrender,
+  Nine years ago to-day?
+Can you ever forget the moment,
+  When you saw the flag of white,
+That told how the grim old city
+  Had fallen in her might?
+
+Ah, 'twas a bold brave army,
+  When the boys, with a right good will,
+Went gayly marching and singing
+  To the fight at Champion Hill.
+They met with a warm reception,
+  But the soul of "Old John Brown"
+Was abroad on that field of battle,
+  And our flag did NOT go down.
+
+Come, heroes of Look Out Mountain,
+  Of Corinth and Donelson,
+Of Kenesaw and Atlanta,
+  And tell how the day was won!
+Hush! bow the head for a moment--
+  There are those who cannot come.
+No bugle-call can arouse them--
+  No sound of fife or drum.
+
+Oh, boys who died for the country,
+  Oh, dear and sainted dead!
+What can we say about you
+  That has not once been said?
+Whether you fell in the contest,
+  Struck down by shot and shell,
+Or pined 'neath the hand of sickness
+  Or starved in the prison cell,
+
+We know that you died for Freedom,
+  To save our land from shame,
+To rescue a periled Nation,
+  And we give you deathless fame.
+'T was the cause of Truth and Justice
+  That you fought and perished for,
+And we say it, oh, so gently,
+  "Our boys who died in the war."
+
+Saviors of our Republic,
+  Heroes who wore the blue,
+We owe the peace that surrounds us--
+  And our Nation's strength to you.
+We owe it to you that our banner,
+  The fairest flag in the world,
+Is to-day unstained, unsullied,
+  On the Summer air unfurled.
+
+We look on its stripes and spangles,
+  And our hearts are filled the while
+With love for the brave commanders,
+  And the boys of the rank and file.
+The grandest deeds of valor
+  Were never written out,
+The noblest acts of virtue
+  The world knows nothing about.
+
+And many a private soldier,
+  Who walks his humble way,
+With no sounding name or title,
+  Unknown to the world to-day,
+In the eyes of God is a hero
+  As worthy of the bays,
+As any mighty General
+  To whom the world gives praise.
+
+Brave men of a mighty army,
+  We extend you friendship's hand!
+I speak for the "Loyal Women,"
+  Those pillars of our land.
+We wish you a hearty welcome,
+  We are proud that you gather here
+To talk of old times together
+  On this brightest day in the year.
+
+And if Peace, whose snow-white pinions,
+  Brood over our land to-day,
+Should ever again go from us,
+  (God grant she may ever stay!)
+Should our Nation call in her peril
+  For "Six hundred thousand more,"
+The loyal women would hear her,
+  And send you out as before.
+
+We would bring out the treasured knapsack,
+  We would take the sword from the wall,
+And hushing our own hearts' pleadings,
+  Hear only the country's call.
+For next to our God, is our Nation;
+  And we cherish the honored name,
+Of the bravest of all brave armies
+  Who fought for that Nation's fame.
+
+
+
+NOBLESSE OBLIGE.
+
+
+I hold it the duty of one who is gifted,
+  And specially dowered in all men's sight,
+To know no rest till his life is lifted
+  Fully up to his great gifts' height.
+
+He must mold the man into rare completeness,
+  For gems are set only in gold refined.
+He must fashion his thoughts into perfect sweetness,
+  And cast out folly and pride from his mind.
+
+For he who drinks from a god's gold fountain
+  Of art or music or rhythmic song
+Must sift from his soul the chaff of malice,
+  And weed from his heart the roots of wrong.
+
+Great gifts should be worn, like a crown befitting!
+  And not like gems in a beggar's hands.
+And the toil must be constant and unremitting
+  Which lifts up the king to the crown's demands.
+
+
+
+AND THEY ARE DUMB.
+
+
+I have been across the bridges of the years.
+      Wet with tears
+Were the ties on which I trod, going back
+      Down the track
+To the valley where I left, 'neath skies of Truth,
+      My lost youth.
+
+As I went, I dropped my burdens, one and all--
+      Let them fall;
+All my sorrows, all my wrinkles, all my care,
+      My white hair,
+I laid down, like some lone pilgrim's heavy pack,
+      By the track.
+
+As I neared the happy valley with light feet,
+      My heart beat
+To the rhythm of a song I used to know
+      Long ago,
+And my spirits gushed and bubbled like a fountain
+      Down a mountain.
+
+On the border of that valley I found you,
+      Tried and true;
+And we wandered through the golden Summer-Land
+      Hand in hand.
+And my pulses beat with rapture in the blisses
+      Of your kisses.
+
+And we met there, in those green and verdant places,
+      Smiling faces,
+And sweet laughter echoed upward from the dells
+      Like gold bells.
+And the world was spilling over with the glory
+      Of Youth's story.
+
+It was but a dreamer's journey of the brain;
+      And again
+I have left the happy valley far behind;
+      And I find
+Time stands waiting with his burdens in a pack
+      For my back.
+
+As he speeds me, like a rough, well-meaning friend,
+      To the end,
+Will I find again the lost ones loved so well?
+      Who can tell!
+But the dead know what the life will be to come--
+      And they are dumb!
+
+
+
+NIGHT.
+
+
+As some dusk mother shields from all alarms
+  The tired child she gathers to her breast,
+The brunette Night doth fold me in her arms,
+  And hushes me to perfect peace and rest.
+Her eyes of stars shine on me, and I hear
+Her voice of winds low crooning on my ear.
+O Night, O Night, how beautiful thou art!
+Come, fold me closer to thy pulsing heart.
+
+The day is full of gladness, and the light
+  So beautifies the common outer things,
+I only see with my external sight,
+  And only hear the great world's voice which rings
+But silently from daylight and from din
+The sweet Night draws me--whispers, "Look within!"
+And looking, as one wakened from a dream,
+I see what _is_--no longer what doth seem.
+
+The Night says, "Listen!" and upon my ear
+  Revealed, as are the visions to my sight,
+The voices known as "Beautiful" come near
+  And whisper of the vastly Infinite.
+Great, blue-eyed Truth, her sister Purity,
+Their brother Honor, all converse with me,
+And kiss my brow, and say, "Be brave of heart!"
+O holy three! how beautiful thou art!
+
+The Night says, "Child, sleep that thou may'st arise
+  Strong for to-morrow's struggle." And I feel
+Her shadowy fingers pressing on my eyes:
+  Like thistledown I float to the Ideal--
+The Slumberland, made beautiful and bright
+As death, by dreams of loved ones gone from sight,
+O food for soul's, sweet dreams of pure delight,
+How beautiful the holy hours of Night!
+
+
+
+ALL FOR ME.
+
+
+The world grows green on a thousand hills--
+  By a thousand willows the bees are humming,
+And a million birds by a million rills,
+  Sing of the golden season coming.
+But, gazing out on the sun-kist lea,
+  And hearing a thrush and a blue-bird singing,
+I feel that the Summer is all for me,
+  And all for me are the joys it is bringing.
+
+All for me the bumble-bee
+  Drones his song in the perfect weather;
+And, just on purpose to sing to me,
+  Thrush and blue-bird came North together.
+Just for me, in red and white,
+  Bloom and blossom the fields of clover;
+And all for me and my delight
+  The wild Wind follows and plays the lover.
+
+The mighty sun, with a scorching kiss
+  (I have read, and heard, and do not doubt it)
+Has burned up a thousand worlds like this,
+  And never stopped to think about it.
+And yet I believe he hurries up
+  Just on purpose to kiss my flowers--
+To drink the dew from the lily-cup,
+  And help it to grow through golden hours.
+
+I know I am only a speck of dust,
+  An individual mite of masses,
+Clinging upon the outer crust
+  Of a little ball of cooling gases.
+And yet, and yet, say what you will,
+  And laugh, if you please, at my lack of reason,
+For me wholly, and for me still,
+  Blooms and blossoms the Summer season.
+
+Nobody else has ever heard
+  The story the Wind to me discloses;
+And none but I and the humming-bird
+  Can read the hearts of the crimson roses.
+Ah, my Summer--my love--my own!
+  The world grows glad in your smiling weather;
+Yet all for me, and me alone,
+  You and your Court came north together.
+
+
+
+PHILOSOPHY.
+
+
+At morn the wise man walked abroad,
+  Proud with the learning of great fools.
+He laughed and said, "There is no God--
+  'Tis force creates, 'tis reason rules."
+
+Meek with the wisdom of great faith,
+  At night he knelt while angels smiled,
+And wept and cried with anguished breath,
+  "Jehovah, _God_, save thou my child."
+
+
+
+"CARLOS."
+
+
+Last night I knelt low at my lady's feet.
+One soft, caressing hand played with my hair,
+And one I kissed and fondled. Kneeling there,
+I deemed my meed of happiness complete.
+
+She was so fair, so full of witching wiles--
+Of fascinating tricks of mouth and eye;
+So womanly withal, but not too shy--
+And all my heaven was compassed by her smiles.
+
+Her soft touch on my cheek and forehead sent,
+Like little arrows, thrills of tenderness
+Through all my frame. I trembled with excess
+Of love, and sighed the sigh of great content.
+
+When any mortal dares to so rejoice,
+I think a jealous Heaven, bending low,
+Reaches a stern hand forth and deals a blow.
+Sweet through the dusk I heard my lady's voice.
+
+"My love!" she sighed, "My Carlos!" even now
+I feel the perfumed zephyr of her breath
+Bearing to me those words of living death,
+And starting out the cold drops on my brow.
+
+For I am _Paul_--not Carlos! Who is he
+That, in the supreme hour of love's delight,
+Veiled by the shadows of the falling night,
+She should breathe low his name, forgetting me?
+
+I will not ask her! 'twere a fruitless task,
+For, woman-like, she would make me believe
+Some well-told tale; and sigh, and seem to grieve,
+And call me cruel. Nay, I will not ask.
+
+But this man Carlos, whosoe'er he be,
+Has turned my cup of nectar into gall,
+Since I know he has claimed some one or all
+Of these delights my lady grants to me.
+
+He must have knelt and kissed her, in some sad
+And tender twilight, when the day grew dim.
+How else could I remind her so of him?
+Why, reveries like these have made men mad!
+
+He must have felt her soft hand on his brow.
+If Heaven was shocked at such presumptuous wrongs,
+And plunged him in the grave, where he belongs,
+_Still she remembers_, though she loves me now.
+
+And if he lives, and meets me to his cost,
+Why, what avails it? I must hear and see
+That curst name "Carlos" always haunting me--
+So has another Paradise been lost.
+
+
+
+THE TWO GLASSES.
+
+
+There sat two glasses filled to the brim,
+On a rich man's table, rim to rim.
+One was ruddy and red as blood,
+And one was clear as the crystal flood.
+
+Said the glass of wine to his paler brother,
+"Let us tell tales of the past to each other;
+I can tell of a banquet, and revel, and mirth,
+Where I was king, for I ruled in might;
+For the proudest and grandest souls on earth
+Fell under my touch, as though struck with blight.
+From the heads of kings I have torn the crown;
+From the heights of fame I have hurled men down.
+I have blasted many an honored name;
+I have taken virtue and given shame;
+I have tempted the youth with a sip, a taste,
+That has made his future a barren waste.
+Far greater than any king am I,
+Or than any army beneath the sky.
+I have made the arm of the driver fail,
+And sent the train from the iron rail.
+I have made good ships go down at sea,
+And the shrieks of the lost were sweet to me.
+Fame, strength, wealth, genius before me fall;
+And my might and power are over all!
+Ho, ho! pale brother," said the wine,
+"Can you boast of deeds as great as mine?"
+
+Said the water-glass: "I cannot boast
+Of a king dethroned, or a murdered host,
+But I can tell of hearts that were sad
+By my crystal drops made bright and glad;
+Of thirsts I have quenched, and brows I have laved;
+Of hands I have cooled, and souls I have saved.
+I have leaped through the valley, dashed down the mountain,
+Slept in the sunshine, and dripped from the fountain.
+I have burst my cloud-fetters, and dropped from the sky.
+And everywhere gladdened the prospect and eye;
+I have eased the hot forehead of fever and pain;
+I have made the parched meadows grow fertile with grain.
+I can tell of the powerful wheel of the mill,
+That ground out the flour, and turned at my will.
+I can tell of manhood debased by you,
+That I have uplifted and crowned anew
+I cheer, I help, I strengthen and aid;
+I gladden the heart of man and maid;
+I set the wine-chained captive free,
+And all are better for knowing me."
+
+These are the tales they told each other,
+The glass of wine and its paler brother,
+As they sat together, filled to the brim,
+On a rich man's table, rim to rim.
+
+
+
+THROUGH TEARS.
+
+
+An artist toiled over his pictures;
+  He labored by night and by day.
+He struggled for glory and honor,
+  But the world, it had nothing to say.
+His walls were ablaze with the splendors
+  We see in the beautiful skies;
+But the world beheld only the colors
+  That were made out of chemical dyes.
+
+Time sped. And he lived, loved, and suffered;
+  He passed through the valley of grief.
+Again he toiled over his canvas,
+  Since in labor alone was relief.
+It showed not the splendor of colors
+  Of those of his earlier years,
+But the world? the world bowed down before it,
+  Because it was painted with tears.
+
+A poet was gifted with genius,
+  And he sang, and he sang all the days.
+He wrote for the praise of the people,
+  But the people accorded no praise.
+Oh, his songs were as blithe as the morning,
+  As sweet as the music of birds;
+But the world had no homage to offer,
+  Because they were nothing but words.
+
+Time sped. And the poet through sorrow
+  Became like his suffering kind.
+Again he toiled over his poems
+  To lighten the grief of his mind.
+They were not so flowing and rhythmic
+  As those of his earlier years,
+But the world? lo! it offered its homage
+  Because they were written in tears.
+
+So ever the price must be given
+  By those seeking glory in art;
+So ever the world is repaying
+  The grief-stricken, suffering heart.
+The happy must ever be humble;
+  Ambition must wait for the years,
+Ere hoping to win the approval
+  Of a world that looks on through its tears.
+
+
+
+INTO SPACE.
+
+
+If the sad old world should jump a cog
+  Sometime, in its dizzy spinning,
+And go off the track with a sudden jog,
+  What an end would come to the sinning.
+What a rest from strife and the burdens of life
+  For the millions of people in it,
+What a way out of care, and worry and wear,
+  All in a beautiful minute.
+
+As 'round the sun with a curving sweep
+  It hurries and runs and races,
+Should it lose its balance, and go with a leap
+  Into the vast sea-spaces,
+What a blest relief it would bring to the grief,
+  And the trouble and toil about us,
+To be suddenly hurled from the solar world
+  And let it go on without us.
+
+With not a sigh or a sad good-by
+  For loved ones left behind us,
+We would go with a lunge and a mighty plunge
+  Where never a grave should find us.
+What a wild mad thrill our veins would fill
+  As the great earth, life a feather,
+Should float through the air to God knows where,
+  And carry us all together.
+
+No dark, damp tomb and no mourner's gloom,
+  No tolling bell in the steeple,
+But in one swift breath a painless death
+  For a million billion people.
+What greater bliss could we ask than this,
+  To sweep with a bird's free motion
+Through leagues of space to a resting place,
+  In a vast and vapory ocean--
+To pass away from this life for aye
+  With never a dear tie sundered,
+And a world on fire for a funeral pyre,
+  While the stars looked on and wondered?
+
+
+
+THROUGH DIM EYES.
+
+
+Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder?
+I see not the grace that I used to see
+In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or
+In the boughs of the willow tree.
+The brook runs slower--its song seems lower,
+And not the song that it sang of old;
+And the tree I admired looks weary and tired
+Of the changeless story of heat and cold.
+
+When the sun goes up, and the stars go under,
+In that supreme hour of the breaking day,
+Is it my eyes, or the dawn I wonder,
+That finds less of the gold, and more of the gray?
+I see not the splendor, the tints so tender,
+The rose-hued glory I used to see;
+And I often borrow a vague half-sorrow
+That another morning has dawned for me.
+
+When the royal smile of that welcome comer
+Beams on the meadow and burns in the sky,
+Is it my eyes, or does the Summer
+Bring less of bloom than in days gone by?
+The beauty that thrilled me, the rapture that filled me,
+To an overflowing of happy tears,
+I pass unseeing, my sad eyes being
+Dimmed by the shadow of vanished years.
+
+When the heart grows weary, all things seem dreary;
+When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long.
+Thank God for sending kind death as an ending,
+Like a grand Amen to a minor song.
+
+
+
+LA MORT D'AMOUR.
+
+
+When was it that love died? We were so fond,
+  So very fond, a little while ago.
+  With leaping pulses, and blood all aglow,
+We dreamed about a sweeter life beyond,
+
+When we should dwell together as one heart,
+  And scarce could wait that happy time to come.
+  Now side by side we sit with lips quite dumb,
+And feel ourselves a thousand miles apart.
+
+How was it that love died! I do not know.
+  I only know that all its grace untold
+  Has faded into gray! I miss the gold
+From our dull skies; but did not see it go.
+
+Why should love die? We prized it, I am sure;
+  We thought of nothing else when it was ours;
+  We cherished it in smiling, sunlit bowers;
+It was our all; why could it not endure?
+
+Alas, we know not how, or when or why
+  This dear thing died. We only know it went,
+  And left us dull, cold, and indifferent;
+We who found heaven once in each other's sigh.
+
+How pitiful it is, and yet how true
+  That half the lovers in the world, one day,
+  Look questioning in each other's eyes this way
+And know love's gone forever, as we do.
+
+Sometimes I cannot help but think, dear heart,
+  As I look out o'er all the wide, sad earth
+  And see love's flame gone out on many a hearth,
+That those who would keep love must dwell apart.
+
+
+
+THE PUNISHED.
+
+
+Not they who know the awful gibbet's anguish,
+  Not they who, while sad years go by them, in
+The sunless cells of lonely prisons languish,
+  Do suffer fullest penalty for sin.
+
+'Tis they who walk the highways unsuspected
+  Yet with grim fear forever at their side,
+Who hug the corpse of some sin undetected,
+  A corpse no grave or coffin-lid can hide--
+
+'Tis they who are in their own chambers haunted
+  By thoughts that like unbidden guests intrude,
+And sit down, uninvited and unwanted,
+  And make a nightmare of the solitude.
+
+
+
+HALF FLEDGED.
+
+
+I feel the stirrings in me of great things.
+New half-fledged thoughts rise up and beat their wings,
+And tremble on the margin of their nest,
+Then flutter back, and hide within my breast.
+
+Beholding space, they doubt their untried strength.
+Beholding men, they fear them. But at length
+Grown all too great and active for the heart
+That broods them with such tender mother art,
+Forgetting fear, and men, and all, that hour,
+Save the impelling consciousness of power
+That stirs within them--they shall soar away
+Up to the very portals of the Day.
+
+Oh, what exultant rapture thrills me through
+When I contemplate all those thoughts may do;
+Like snow-white eagles penetrating space,
+They may explore full many an unknown place,
+And build their nests on mountain heights unseen,
+Whereon doth lie that dreamed-of rest serene.
+
+Stay thou a little longer in my breast,
+Till my fond heart shall push thee from the nest,
+Anxious to see thee soar to heights divine--
+Oh, beautiful but half-fledged thoughts of mine.
+
+
+
+LOVE'S SLEEP.
+
+(Vers de Societe.)
+
+
+We'll cover Love with roses,
+  And sweet sleep he shall take.
+None but a fool supposes
+  Love always keeps awake.
+I've known loves without number.
+  True loves were they, and tried;
+And just for want of slumber
+  They pined away and died.
+
+Our love was bright and cheerful
+  A little while agone;
+Now he is pale and tearful,
+  And--yes, I've seen him yawn.
+So tired is he of kisses
+  That he can only weep;
+The one dear thing he misses
+  And longs for now is sleep.
+
+We could not let him leave us
+  One time, he was so dear,
+But now it would not grieve us
+  If he slept half a year.
+For he has had his season,
+  Like the lily and the rose,
+And it but stands to reason
+  That he should want repose.
+
+We prized the smiling Cupid
+  Who made our days so bright;
+But he has grown so stupid
+  We gladly say good-night.
+And if he wakens tender
+  And fond, and fair as when
+He filled our lives with splendor,
+  We'll take him back again.
+
+And should he never waken,
+  As that perchance may be,
+We will not weep forsaken,
+  But sing, "Love, tra-la-lee!"
+
+
+
+TRUE CULTURE.
+
+
+The highest culture is to speak no ill;
+The best reformer is the man whose eyes
+Are quick to see all beauty and all worth;
+And by his own discreet, well-ordered life,
+Alone reproves the erring.
+                          When they gaze
+Turns it on thine own soul, be most severe.
+But when it falls upon a fellow-man
+Let kindliness control it; and refrain
+From that belittling censure that springs forth
+From common lips like weeds from marshy soil.
+
+
+
+THE VOLUPTUARY.
+
+
+Oh, I am sick of love reciprocated,
+  Of hopes fulfilled, ambitions gratified.
+Life holds no thing to be anticipated,
+  And I am sad from being satisfied.
+
+The eager joy felt climbing up the mountain
+  Has left me now the highest point is gained.
+The crystal spray that fell from Fame's fair fountain
+  Was sweeter than the waters were when drained.
+
+The gilded apple which the world calls pleasure,
+  And which I purchased with my youth and strength,
+Pleased me a moment. But the empty treasure
+  Lost all its lustre, and grew dim at length.
+
+And love, all glowing with a golden glory,
+  Delighted me a season with its tale.
+It pleased the longest, but at last the story
+  So oft repeated, to my heart grew stale.
+
+I lived for self, and all I asked was given,
+  I have had all, and now am sick of bliss,
+No other punishment designed by Heaven
+  Could strike me half so forcibly as this.
+
+I feel no sense of aught but enervation
+  In all the joys my selfish aims have brought,
+And know no wish but for annihilation,
+  Since that would give me freedom from the thought.
+
+Oh, blest is he who has some aim defeated;
+  Some mighty loss to balance all his gain.
+For him there is a hope not yet completed;
+  For him hath life yet draughts of joy and pain.
+
+But cursed is he who has no balked ambition,
+  No hopeless hope, no loss beyond repair,
+But sick and sated with complete fruition,
+  Keeps not the pleasure even of despair.
+
+
+
+THE YEAR.
+
+
+What can be said in New Year rhymes,
+That's not been said a thousand times?
+
+The new years come, the old years go,
+We know we dream, we dream we know.
+
+We rise up laughing with the light,
+We lie down weeping with the night.
+
+We hug the world until it stings,
+We curse it then and sigh for wings.
+
+We live, we love, we woo, we wed,
+We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.
+
+We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,
+And that's the burden of the year.
+
+
+
+THE UNATTAINED.
+
+
+A vision beauteous as the morn,
+  With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming,
+Slow glided o'er a field late shorn
+  Where walked a poet idly dreaming.
+He saw her, and joy lit his face,
+  "Oh, vanish not at human speaking,"
+He cried, "thou form of magic grace,
+  Thou art the poem I am seeking.
+
+"I've sought thee long! I claim thee now--
+  My thought embodied, living, real."
+She shook the tresses from her brow.
+  "Nay, nay!" she said, "I am ideal.
+I am the phantom of desire--
+  The spirit of all great endeavor,
+I am the voice that says, 'Come higher,'
+  That calls men up and up forever.
+
+"'Tis not alone thy thought supreme
+  That here upon thy path has risen;
+I am the artist's highest dream,
+  The ray of light he cannot prison.
+I am the sweet ecstatic note
+  Than all glad music gladder, clearer,
+That trembles in the singer's throat,
+  And dies without a human hearer.
+
+"I am the greater, better yield,
+  That leads and cheers thy farmer neighbor,
+For me he bravely tills the field
+  And whistles gayly at his labor.
+Not thou alone, O poet soul,
+  Dost seek me through an endless morrow,
+But to the toiling, hoping whole
+  I am at once the hope and sorrow.
+
+The spirit of the unattained,
+  I am to those who seek to name me,
+A good desired but never gained.
+  All shall pursue, but none shall claim me."
+
+
+
+IN THE CROWD.
+
+
+How happy they are, in all seeming,
+  How gay, or how smilingly proud,
+How brightly their faces are beaming,
+  These people who make up the crowd.
+How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,
+  How they look at each other and smile,
+How they glow, and what _bon mots_ they utter!
+  But a strange thought has found me the while!
+
+It is odd, but I stand here and fancy
+  These people who now play a part,
+All forced by some strange necromancy
+  To speak, and to act, from the heart.
+What a hush would come over the laughter!
+  What a silence would fall on the mirth!
+And then what a wail would sweep after,
+  As the night-wind sweeps over the earth.
+
+If the secrets held under and hidden
+  In the intricate hearts of the crowd,
+Were suddenly called to, and bidden
+  To rise up and cry out aloud,
+How strange one would look to another!
+  Old friends of long standing and years--
+Own brothers would not know each other,
+  Robed new in their sorrows and fears.
+
+From broadcloth, and velvet, and laces,
+  Would echo the groans of despair,
+And there would be blanching of faces
+  And wringing of hands and of hair.
+That man with his record of honor,
+  That lady down there with the rose,
+That girl with Spring's freshness upon her,
+  Who knoweth the secrets of those?
+
+Smile on, O ye maskers, smile sweetly!
+  Step lightly, bow low and laugh loud!
+Though the world is deceived and completely,
+  I know ye, O sad-hearted crowd!
+I watch you with infinite pity:
+  But play on, play ever your part,
+Be gleeful, be joyful, be witty!
+  'Tis better than showing the heart.
+
+
+
+LIFE AND I.
+
+
+Life and I are lovers, straying
+  Arm in arm along:
+Often like two children Maying,
+  Full of mirth and song.
+
+Life plucks all the blooming hours
+  Growing by the way;
+Binds them on my brow like flowers;
+  Calls me Queen of May.
+
+Then again, in rainy weather,
+  We sit vis-a-vis,
+Planning work we'll do together
+  In the years to be.
+
+Sometimes Life denies me blisses,
+  And I frown or pout;
+But we make it up with kisses
+  Ere the day is out.
+
+Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,
+  Try his trust and faith,
+Saying I shall one day leave him
+  For his rival Death.
+
+Then he always grows more zealous,
+  Tender, and more true;
+Loves the more for being jealous,
+  As all lovers do.
+
+Though I swear by stars above him,
+  And by worlds beyond,
+That I love him--love him--love him;
+  Though my heart is fond;
+
+Though he gives me, doth my lover,
+  Kisses with each breath--
+I shall one day throw him over,
+  And plight troth with Death.
+
+
+
+GUERDON.
+
+
+Upon the white cheek of the Cherub Year
+      I saw a tear.
+Alas! I murmured, that the Year should borrow
+      So soon a sorrow.
+Just then the sunlight fell with sudden flame:
+      The tear became
+A wond'rous diamond sparkling in the light--
+      A beauteous sight.
+
+Upon my soul there fell such woeful loss,
+      I said, "The Cross
+Is grievous for a life as young as mine."
+      Just then, like wine,
+God's sunlight shone from His high Heavens down;
+      And lo! a crown
+Gleamed in the place of what I thought a burden--
+      My sorrow's guerdon.
+
+
+
+SNOWED UNDER.
+
+
+Of a thousand things that the Year snowed under--
+  The busy Old Year who has gone away--
+How many will rise in the Spring, I wonder,
+  Brought to life by the sun of May?
+Will the rose-tree branches, so wholly hidden
+  That never a rose-tree seems to be,
+At the sweet Spring's call come forth unbidden,
+  And bud in beauty, and bloom for me?
+
+Will the fair, green Earth, whose throbbing bosom
+  Is hid like a maid's in her gown at night,
+Wake out of her sleep, and with blade and blossom
+  Gem her garments to please my sight?
+Over the knoll in the valley yonder
+  The loveliest buttercups bloomed and grew;
+When the snow has gone that drifted them under,
+  Will they shoot up sunward, and bloom anew?
+
+When wild winds blew, and a sleet-storm pelted,
+  I lost a jewel of priceless worth;
+If I walk that way when snows have melted,
+  Will the gem gleam up from the bare, brown Earth?
+I laid a love that was dead or dying,
+  For the year to bury and hide from sight;
+But out of a trance will it waken, crying,
+  And push to my heart, like a leaf to the light?
+
+Under the snow lie things so cherished--
+  Hopes, ambitions, and dreams of men--
+Faces that vanished, and trusts that perished,
+  Never to sparkle and glow again.
+The Old Year greedily grasped his plunder,
+  And covered it over and hurried away:
+Of the thousand things that he did, I wonder
+  How many will rise at the call of May?
+O wise Young Year, with your hands held under
+  Your mantle of ermine, tell me, pray!
+
+
+
+PLATONIC.
+
+
+I knew it the first of the Summer--
+  I knew it the same at the end--
+That you and your love were plighted,
+  But couldn't you be my friend?
+Couldn't we sit in the twilight,
+  Couldn't we walk on the shore,
+With only a pleasant friendship
+  To bind us, and nothing more?
+
+There was never a word of nonsense
+  Spoken between us two,
+Though we lingered oft in the garden
+  Till the roses were wet with dew.
+We touched on a thousand subjects--
+  The moon and the stars above;
+But our talk was tinctured with science,
+  With never a hint of love.
+
+"A wholly platonic friendship,"
+  You said I had proved to you,
+"Could bind a man and a woman
+  The whole long season through,
+With never a thought of folly,
+  Though both are in their youth."
+What would you have said, my lady,
+  If you had known the truth?
+
+Had I done what my mad heart prompted--
+  Gone down on my knees to you,
+And told you my passionate story
+  There in the dusk and dew;
+My burning, burdensome story,
+  Hidden and hushed so long,
+My story of hopeless loving--
+  Say, would you have thought it wrong?
+
+But I fought with my heart and conquered:
+  I hid my wound from sight;
+You were going away in the morning
+  And I said a calm good-night.
+But now, when I sit in the twilight
+  Or when I walk by the sea,
+That friendship quite "platonic"
+  Comes surging over me.
+And a passionate longing fills me
+  For the roses, the dusk and the dew,--
+For the beautiful Summer vanished--
+  For the moonlit talks--and you.
+
+
+
+WHAT WE NEEDED.
+
+
+What does our country need? Not armies standing
+  With sabres gleaming ready for the fight.
+Not increased navies, skillful and commanding,
+  To bound the waters with an iron might.
+Not haughty men with glutted purses trying
+  To purchase souls, and keep the power of place.
+Not jeweled dolls with one another vieing
+  For palms of beauty, elegance and grace.
+
+But we want women, strong of soul, yet lowly,
+  With that rare meekness, born of gentleness,
+Women whose lives are pure and clean and holy,
+  The women whom all little children bless.
+Brave, earnest women, helpful to each other,
+  With finest scorn for all things low and mean.
+Women who hold the names of wife and mother,
+  Far nobler than the title of a Queen.
+
+O these are they who mold the men of story,
+  These mothers, ofttimes shorn of grace and youth,
+Who, worn and weary, ask no greater glory
+  Than making some young soul the home of truth,
+Who sow in hearts all fallow for the sowing
+  The seeds of virtue and of scorn for sin,
+And, patient, watch the beauteous harvest growing
+  And weed out tares which crafty hands cast in.
+
+Women who do not hold the gift of beauty
+  As some rare treasure to be bought and sold,
+But guard it as a precious aid to duty--
+  The outer framing of the inner gold;
+Women who, low above their cradles bending,
+  Let flattery's voice go by, and give no heed,
+While their pure prayers like incense are ascending:
+ _These_ are our country's pride, our country's need.
+
+
+
+"LEUDEMANN'S-ON-THE-RIVER."
+
+
+Toward even when the day leans down
+  To kiss the upturned face of night,
+Out just beyond the loud-voiced town
+  I know a spot of calm delight.
+Like crimson arrows from a quiver
+  The red rays pierce the waters flowing
+While we go dreaming, singing, rowing
+  To Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+The hills, like some glad mocking-bird,
+  Send back our laughter and our singing,
+While faint--and yet more faint is heard
+  The steeple bells all sweetly ringing.
+Some message did the winds deliver
+  To each glad heart that August night,
+All heard, but all heard not aright;
+  By Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+Night falls as in some foreign clime,
+  Between the hills that slope and rise.
+So dusk the shades at landing time,
+  We could not see each other's eyes.
+We only saw the moonbeams quiver
+  Far down upon the stream! that night
+The new moon gave but little light
+  By Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+How dusky were those paths that led
+  Up from the river to the hall.
+The tall trees branching overhead
+  Invite the early shades that fall.
+In all the glad blithe world, oh, never
+  Were hearts more free from care than when
+We wandered through those walks, we ten,
+  By Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+So soon, so soon, the changes came.
+  This August day we two alone,
+On that same river, not the same,
+  Dream of a night forever flown.
+Strange distances have come to sever
+  The hearts that gayly beat in pleasure,
+Long miles we cannot cross or measure--
+  From Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+We'll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day.
+  The green, the russet! seems it strange
+So soon, so soon, the leaves can change!
+  Ah, me! so runs all life away.
+This night wind chills me, and I shiver;
+  The Summer time is almost past.
+One more good-bye--perhaps the last
+  To Leudemann's-on-the-River.
+
+
+
+IN THE LONG RUN.
+
+
+In the long run fame finds the deserving man.
+  The lucky wight may prosper for a day,
+But in good time true merit leads the van,
+  And vain pretense, unnoticed, goes its way.
+There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate,
+But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait,
+      In the long run.
+
+In the long run all goodly sorrow pays,
+  There is no better thing than righteous pain,
+The sleepless nights, the awful thorn-crowned days,
+  Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain.
+Unmeaning joys enervate in the end.
+But sorrow yields a glorious dividend
+      In the long run.
+
+In the long run all hidden things are known,
+  The eye of truth will penetrate the night,
+And good or ill, thy secret shall be known,
+  However well 'tis guarded from the light.
+All the unspoken motives of the breast
+Are fathomed by the years and stand confest
+      In the long run.
+
+In the long run all love is paid by love,
+  Though undervalued by the hosts of earth;
+The great eternal Government above
+  Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth.
+Give thy love freely; do not count the cost;
+So beautiful a thing was never lost
+      In the long run.
+
+
+
+PLEA TO SCIENCE.
+
+
+O Science reaching backward through the distance,
+      Most earnest child of God,
+Exposing all the secrets of existence,
+      With thy divining rod,
+I bid thee speed up to the heights supernal,
+      Clear thinker, ne'er sufficed;
+Go seek and bind the laws and truths eternal,
+      But leave me Christ.
+
+Upon the vanity of pious sages
+      Let in the light of day.
+Break down the superstitions of all ages--
+      Thrust bigotry away;
+Stride on, and bid all stubborn foes defiance
+      Let Truth and Reason reign.
+But I beseech thee, O Immortal Science,
+      Let Christ remain.
+
+What canst thou give to help me bear my crosses,
+      In place of Him, my Lord?
+And what to recompense for all my losses,
+      And bring me sweet reward?
+_Thou_ couldst not with thy clear, cold eyes of reason,
+      Thou couldst not comfort me
+Like one who passed through that tear-blotted season,
+      In sad Gethsemane!
+
+Through all the weary, wearing hour of sorrow,
+      What word that thou hast said,
+Would make me strong to wait for some to-morrow
+      When I should find my dead?
+When I am weak, and desolate, and lonely--
+      And prone to follow wrong?
+Not thou, O Science--Christ, my Savior, only
+      Can make me strong.
+
+Thou are so cold, so lofty and so distant,
+      Though great my need might be,
+No prayer, however constant and persistent,
+      Could bring thee down to me.
+Christ stands so near, to help me through each hour,
+      To guide me day by day.
+O Science, sweeping all before thy power
+      Leave Christ, I pray!
+
+
+
+LOVE'S BURIAL.
+
+
+Let us clear a little space,
+And make Love a burial place.
+
+He is dead, dear, as you see,
+And he wearies you and me,
+
+Growing heavier, day by day,
+Let us bury him, I say.
+
+Wings of dead white butterflies,
+These shall shroud him, as he lies
+
+In his casket rich and rare,
+Made of finest maiden-hair.
+
+With the pollen of the rose
+Let us his white eye-lids close.
+
+Put the rose thorn in his hand,
+Shorn of leaves--you understand.
+
+Let some holy water fall
+On his dead face, tears of gall--
+
+As we kneel by him and say,
+"Dreams to dreams," and turn away.
+
+Those grave diggers, Doubt, Distrust,
+They will lower him to the dust.
+
+Let us part here with a kiss,
+You go that way, I go this.
+
+Since we buried Love to-day
+We will walk a separate way.
+
+
+
+LITTLE BLUE HOOD.
+
+
+Every morning and every night
+  There passes our window near the street,
+A little girl with an eye so bright,
+  And a cheek so round and a lip so sweet;
+The daintiest, jauntiest little miss
+That ever any one longed to kiss.
+
+She is neat as wax, and fresh to view,
+  And her look is wholesome and clean, and good.
+Whatever her gown, her hood is blue,
+  And so we call her our "Little Blue Hood,"
+For we know not the name of the dear little lass,
+But we call to each other to see her pass.
+
+"Little Blue Hood is coming now!"
+  And we watch from the window while she goes by,
+She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow,
+  And a fearless look in her long-lashed eye;
+And a certain dignity wedded to grace,
+Seems to envelop her form and face.
+
+Every morning, in sun or rain,
+  She walks by the window with sweet, grave air,
+And never guesses behind the pane
+  We two are watching and thinking her fair;
+Lovingly watching her down the street,
+Dear little Blue Hood, bright and sweet.
+
+Somebody ties that hood of blue
+  Under the face so fair to see,
+Somebody loves her, beside we two,
+  Somebody kisses her--why can't we?
+Dear Little Blue Hood fresh and fair,
+Are you glad we love you, or don't you care?
+
+
+
+NO SPRING.
+
+
+Up from the South come the birds that were banished,
+  Frightened away by the presence of frost.
+Back to the vale comes the verdure that vanished,
+  Back to the forest the leaves that were lost.
+Over the hillside the carpet of splendor,
+  Folded through Winter, Spring spreads down again;
+Along the horizon, the tints that were tender,
+  Lost hues of Summer time, burn bright as then.
+
+Only the mountains' high summits are hoary,
+  To the ice-fettered river the sun gives a key.
+Once more the gleaming shore lists to the story
+  Told by an amorous Summer-kissed sea.
+All things revive that in Winter time perished,
+  The rose buds again in the light o' the sun,
+All that was beautiful, all that was cherished,
+  Sweet things and dear things and all things--save one.
+
+Late, when the year and the roses were lying
+  Low with the ruins of Summer and bloom,
+Down in the dust fell a love that was dying,
+  And the snow piled above it, and made it a tomb.
+Lo! now! the roses are budded for blossom--
+  Lo! now! the Summer is risen again.
+Why dost thou bud not, O Love of my bosom?
+  Why dost thou rise not, and thrill me as then?
+
+Life without love, is a year without Summer,
+  Heart without love, is a wood without song.
+Rise then, revive then, thou indolent comer,
+  Why dost thou lie in the dark earth so long?
+Rise! ah, thou canst not! the rose-tree that sheddest
+  Its beautiful leaves, in the Spring time may bloom,
+But of cold things the coldest, of dead things the deadest,
+  Love buried once, rises not from the tomb.
+Green things may grow on the hillside and heather,
+  Birds seek the forest and build there and sing.
+All things revive in the beautiful weather,
+  But unto a dead love there cometh no Spring.
+
+
+
+LIPPO.
+
+
+Now we must part, my Lippo. Even so,
+I grieve to see thy sudden pained surprise;
+Gaze not on me with such accusing eyes--
+'T was thine own hand which dealt dear Love's death-blow.
+
+I loved thee fondly yesterday. Till then
+Thy heart was like a covered golden cup
+Always above my eager lip held up.
+I fancied thou wert not as other men.
+
+I knew that heart was filled with Love's sweet wine,
+Pressed wholly for my drinking. And my lip
+Grew parched with thirsting for one nectared sip
+Of what, denied me, seemed a draught divine.
+
+Last evening, in the gloaming, that cup spilled
+Its precious contents. Even to the lees
+Were offered to me, saying, "Drink of these!"
+And when I saw it empty, Love was killed.
+
+No word was left unsaid, no act undone,
+To prove to me thou wert my abject slave.
+Ah, Love! hadst thou been wise enough to save
+One little drop of that sweet wine--but one--
+
+I still had loved thee, longing for it then.
+But even the cup is mine. I look within,
+And find it holds not one last drop to win,
+And cast it down.--Thou art as other men.
+
+
+
+MIDSUMMER.
+
+
+After the May time, and after the June time
+  Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet,
+Cometh the round world's royal noon time,
+  The red midsummer of blazing heat.
+When the sun, like an eye that never closes,
+  Bends on the earth its fervid gaze,
+And the winds are still, and the crimson roses
+  Droop and wither and die in its rays.
+
+Unto my heart has come that season,
+  O my lady, my worshiped one,
+When over the stars of Pride and Reason
+  Sails Love's cloudless, noonday sun.
+Like a great red ball in my bosom burning
+  With fires that nothing can quench or tame.
+It glows till my heart itself seems turning
+  Into a liquid lake of flame.
+
+The hopes half shy, and the sighs all tender,
+  The dreams and fears of an earlier day,
+Under the noontide's royal splendor,
+  Droop like roses and wither away.
+From the hills of doubt no winds are blowing,
+  From the isle of pain no breeze is sent.
+Only the sun in a white heat glowing
+  Over an ocean of great content.
+
+Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory,
+  Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon,
+For the Autumn must come with its mournful story,
+  And Love's midsummer will fade too soon.
+
+
+
+A REMINISCENCE.
+
+
+I saw the wild honey-bee kissing a rose
+      A wee one, that grows
+Down low on the bush, where her sisters above
+      Cannot see all that's done
+      As the moments roll on.
+Nor hear all the whispers and murmurs of love.
+
+They flaunt out their beautiful leaves in the sun,
+      And they flirt, every one,
+With the wild bees who pass, and the gay butterflies.
+      And that wee thing in pink--
+      Why, they never once think
+That she's won a lover right under their eyes.
+
+It reminded me, Kate, of a time--you know when!
+      You were so petite then,
+Your dresses were short, and your feet were so small.
+      Your sisters, Maud-Belle
+      And Madeline--well,
+They _both_ set their caps for me, after that ball.
+
+How the blue eyes and black eyes smiled up in my face!
+      'T was a neck-and-neck race,
+Till that day when you opened the door in the hall,
+      And looked up and looked down,
+      With your sweet eyes of brown,
+And _you_ seemed so tiny, and _I_ felt so tall.
+
+Your sisters had sent you to keep me, my dear,
+      Till they should appear.
+Then you were dismissed like a child in disgrace.
+      How meekly you went!
+      But your brown eyes, they sent
+A thrill to my heart, and a flush to my face.
+
+We always were meeting some way after that.
+      You hung up my hat,
+And got it again, when I finished my call.
+      Sixteen, and _so_ sweet!
+      Oh, those cute little feet!
+Shall I ever forget how they tripped down the hall?
+
+Shall I ever forget the first kiss by the door,
+      Or the vows murmured o'er,
+Or the rage and surprise of Maud-Belle? Well-a-day,
+      How swiftly time flows,
+      And who would suppose
+That a _bee_ could have carried me so far away.
+
+
+
+RESPITE.
+
+
+The mighty conflict, which we call existence,
+  Doth wear upon the body and the soul.
+Our vital forces wasted in resistance,
+  So much there is to conquer and control.
+
+The rock which meets the billows with defiance.
+  Undaunted and unshaken day by day,
+In spite of its unyielding self-reliance,
+  Is by the warfare surely worn away.
+
+And there are depths and heights of strong emotions
+  That surge at times within the human breast,
+More fierce than all the tides of all the oceans
+  Which sweep on ever in divine unrest.
+
+I sometimes think the rock worn with adventures,
+  And sad with thoughts of conflicts yet to be,
+Must envy the frail reed which no one censures,
+  When overcome 'tis swallowed by the sea.
+
+This life is all resistance and repression,
+  Dear God, if in that other world unseen,
+Not rest, we find, but new life and progression,
+  Grant us a respite in the grave between.
+
+
+
+A GIRL'S FAITH.
+
+
+Across the miles that stretch between,
+  Through days of gloom or glad sunlight,
+There shines a face I have not seen
+  Which yet doth make my world more bright.
+
+He may be near, he may be far,
+  Or near or far I cannot see,
+But faithful as the morning star
+  He yet shall rise and come to me.
+
+What though fate leads us separate ways,
+  The world is round, and time is fleet.
+A journey of a few brief days,
+  And face to face we two shall meet.
+
+Shall meet beneath God's arching skies,
+  While suns shall blaze, or stars shall gleam,
+And looking in each other's eyes
+  Shall hold the past but as a dream.
+
+But round and perfect and complete,
+  Life like a star shall climb the height,
+As we two press with willing feet
+  Together toward the Infinite.
+
+And still behind the space between,
+  As back of dawns the sunbeams play,
+There shines the face I have not seen,
+  Whose smile shall wake my world to Day.
+
+
+
+TWO.
+
+
+One leaned on velvet cushions like a queen--
+  To see him pass, the hero of an hour,
+Whom men called great. She bowed with languid mien,
+  And smiled, and blushed, and knew her beauty's power.
+
+One trailed her tinseled garments through the street,
+  And thrust aside the crowd, and found a place
+So near, the blooded courser's praning feet
+  Cast sparks of fire upon her painted face.
+
+One took the hot-house blossoms from her breast,
+  And tossed them down, as he went riding by.
+And blushed rose-red to see them fondly pressed
+  To bearded lips, while eye spoke unto eye.
+
+One, bold and hardened with her sinful life,
+  Yet shrank and shivered painfully, because
+His cruel glance cut keener than a knife,
+  The glance of him who made her what she was.
+
+One was observed, and lifted up to fame,
+  Because the hero smiled upon her! while
+One who was shunned and hated, found her shame
+  In basking in the death-light of his smile.
+
+
+
+SLIPPING AWAY.
+
+
+Slipping away--slipping away!
+Out of our brief year slips the May;
+And Winter lingers, and Summer flies;
+And Sorrow abideth, and Pleasure dies;
+And the days are short, and the nights are long;
+And little is right, and much is wrong.
+
+Slipping away is the Summer time;
+It has lost its rhythm and lilting rhyme--
+For the grace goes out of the day so soon,
+And the tired head aches in the glare of noon,
+And the way seems long to the hills that lie
+Under the calm of the western sky.
+
+Slipping away are the friends whose worth
+Lent a glow to the sad old earth:
+One by one they slip from our sight;
+One by one their graves gleam white;
+Or we count them lost by the crueler death
+Of a trust betrayed, or a murdered faith.
+
+Slipping away are the hopes that made
+Bliss out of sorrow, and sun out of shade.
+Slipping away is our hold on life.
+And out of the struggle and wearing strife,
+From joys that diminish, and woes that increase,
+We are slipping away to the shores of Peace.
+
+
+
+IS IT DONE?
+
+
+It is done! in the fire's fitful flashes,
+  The last line has withered and curled.
+In a tiny white heap of dead ashes
+  Lie buried the hopes of your world.
+There were mad foolish vows in each letter,
+  It is well they have shriveled and burned,
+And the ring! oh, the ring was a fetter,
+  It was better removed and returned.
+
+But ah, is it done? in the embers
+  Where letters and tokens were cast,
+Have you burned up the heart that remembers,
+  And treasures its beautiful past?
+Do you think in this swift reckless fashion
+  To ruthlessly burn and destroy
+The months that were freighted with passion,
+  The dreams that were drunken with joy?
+
+Can you burn up the rapture of kisses
+  That flashed from the lips to the soul?
+Or the heart that grows sick for lost blisses
+  In spite of its strength of control?
+Have you burned up the touch of warm fingers
+  That thrilled through each pulse and each vein,
+Or the sound of a voice that still lingers
+  And hurts with a haunting refrain?
+
+Is it done? is the life drama ended?
+  You have put all the lights out, and yet,
+Though the curtain, rung down, has descended,
+  Can the actors go home and forget?
+Ah, no! they will turn in their sleeping
+  With a strange restless pain in their hearts,
+And in darkness, and anguish and weeping,
+  Will dream they are playing their parts.
+
+
+
+A LEAF.
+
+
+Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve,
+  That you were married, or soon to be.
+I have not thought of you, I believe,
+  Since last we parted. Let me see:
+Five long Summers have passed since then--
+  Each has been pleasant in its own way--
+And you are but one of a dozen men
+  Who have played the suitor a Summer day.
+
+But, nevertheless, when I heard your name,
+  Coupled with some one's, not my own,
+There burned in my bosom a sudden flame,
+  That carried me back to the day that is flown.
+I was sitting again by the laughing brook,
+  With you at my feet, and the sky above,
+And my heart was fluttering under your look--
+  The unmistakable look of Love.
+
+Again your breath, like a South wind, fanned
+  My cheek, where the blushes came and went;
+And the tender clasp of your strong, warm hand
+  Sudden thrills through my pulses sent.
+Again you were mine by Love's own right--
+  Mine forever by Love's decree:
+So for a moment it seemed last night,
+  When somebody mentioned your name to me.
+
+Just for the moment I thought you mine--
+  Loving me, wooing me, as of old.
+The tale remembered seemed half divine--
+  Though I held it lightly enough when told.
+The past seemed fairer than when it was near,
+  As "Blessings brighten when taking flight;"
+And just for the moment I held you dear--
+  When somebody mentioned your name last night.
+
+
+
+AESTHETIC.
+
+
+In a garb that was guiltless of colors
+  She stood, with a dull, listless air--
+A creature of dumps and of dolors,
+  But most undeniably fair.
+
+The folds of her garment fell round her,
+  Revealing the curve of each limb;
+Well proportioned and graceful I found her,
+  Although quite alarmingly slim.
+
+From the hem of her robe peeped one sandal--
+  "High art" was she down to her feet;
+And though I could not understand all
+  She said, I could see she was sweet.
+
+Impressed by her limpness and languor,
+  I proffered a chair near at hand;
+She looked back a mild sort of anger--
+  Posed anew, and continued to stand.
+
+Some praises I next tried to mutter
+  Of the fan that she held to her face;
+She said it was "utterly utter,"
+  And waved it with languishing grace.
+
+I then, in a strain quite poetic,
+  Begged her gaze on the bow in the sky,
+She looked--said its curve was "aesthetic."
+  But the "tone was too dreadfully high."
+
+Her lovely face, lit by the splendor
+  That glorified landscape and sea,
+Woke thoughts that were daring and tender:
+  Did _her_ thoughts, too, rest upon me?
+
+"Oh, tell me," I cried, growing bolder,
+  "Have I in your musings a place?"
+"Well, yes," she said over her shoulder:
+  "I was thinking of nothing in space."
+
+
+
+POEMS OF THE WEEK.
+
+
+SUNDAY.
+
+Lie still and rest, in that serene repose
+That on this holy morning comes to those
+Who have been burdened with the cares which make
+The sad heart weary and the tired head ache.
+        Lie still and rest--
+      God's day of all is best.
+
+
+MONDAY.
+
+Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy dreams!
+Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.
+"As Monday goes, so goes the week," dames say.
+Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day.
+        And see! thy neighbor
+      Already seeks his labor.
+
+
+TUESDAY.
+
+Another morning's banners are unfurled--
+Another day looks smiling on the world.
+It holds new laurels for thy soul to win:
+Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin,
+        Nor sad, away,
+      Send it to yesterday.
+
+
+WEDNESDAY.
+
+Half-way unto the end--the week's high noon.
+The morning hours do speed away so soon!
+And, when the noon is reached, however bright,
+Instinctively we look toward the night.
+        The glow is lost
+      Once the meridian crost.
+
+
+THURSDAY.
+
+So well the week has sped, hast thou a friend
+Go spend an hour in converse. It will lend
+New beauty to thy labors and thy life
+To pause a little sometimes in the strife.
+        Toil soon seems rude
+      That has no interlude.
+
+
+FRIDAY.
+
+From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray;
+Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day,
+Neglect no labor and no duty shirk:
+Not many hours are left thee for thy work--
+        And it were meet
+      That all should be complete.
+
+
+SATURDAY.
+
+Now with the almost finished task make haste;
+So near the night thou hast no time to waste.
+Post up accounts, and let thy Soul's eyes look
+For flaws and errors in Life's ledger-book.
+        When labors cease,
+      How sweet the sense of peace!
+
+
+
+GHOSTS.
+
+
+      There are ghosts in the room.
+As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there
+      They come out of the gloom,
+And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair.
+
+      There's the ghost of a Hope
+That lighted my days with a fanciful glow,
+      In her hand is the rope
+That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago.
+
+      But her ghost comes to-night,
+With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes,
+      And it stands in the light,
+And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs.
+
+      There's the ghost of a Joy,
+A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much,
+      And the hands that destroy
+Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch.
+
+      There's the ghost of a Love,
+Born with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest,
+      But he towers above
+All the others--this ghost: yet a ghost at the best.
+
+      I am weary, and fain
+Would forget all these dead: but the gibbering host
+      Make my struggle in vain,
+In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost.
+
+
+
+FLEEING AWAY.
+
+
+My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar,
+  Higher and higher on soul-lent wings;
+But ever and often, and more and more
+  They are dragged down earthward by little things,
+By little troubles and little needs,
+As a lark might be tangled among the weeds.
+
+My purpose is not what it ought to be,
+  Steady and fixed, like a star on high,
+But more like a fisherman's light at sea;
+  Hither and thither it seems to fly--
+Sometimes feeble, and sometimes bright,
+Then suddenly lost in the gloom of night.
+
+My life is far from my dream of life--
+  Calmly contented, serenely glad;
+But, vexed and worried by daily strife,
+  It is always troubled, and ofttimes sad--
+And the heights I had thought I should reach one day
+Grow dimmer and dimmer, and farther away.
+
+My heart finds never the longed-for rest;
+  Its worldly striving, its greed for gold,
+Chilled and frightened the calm-eyed guest,
+  Who sometimes sought me in days of old;
+And ever fleeing away from me
+Is the higher self that I long to be.
+
+
+
+ALL MAD.
+
+
+"He is mad as a hare, poor fellow,
+  And should be in chains," you say.
+I haven't a doubt of your statement,
+  But who isn't mad, I pray?
+Why, the world is a great asylum,
+  And people are all insane,
+Gone daft with pleasure or folly,
+  Or crazed with passion and pain.
+
+The infant who shrieks at a shadow,
+  The child with his Santa Claus faith,
+The woman who worships Dame Fashion,
+  Each man with his notions of death,
+The miser who hoards up his earnings,
+  The spendthrift who wastes them too soon,
+The scholar grown blind in his delving,
+  The lover who stares at the moon.
+
+The poet who thinks life a paean,
+  The cynic who thinks it a fraud,
+The youth who goes seeking for pleasure,
+  The preacher who dares talk of God,
+All priests with their creeds and their croaking,
+  All doubters who dare to deny,
+The gay who find aught to wake laughter,
+  The sad who find aught worth a sigh,
+Whoever is downcast or solemn,
+  Whoever is gleeful and glad,
+Are only the dupes of delusions--
+  We are all of us--all of us mad.
+
+
+
+HIDDEN GEMS.
+
+
+We know not what lies in us, till we seek;
+  Men dive for pearls--they are not found on shore,
+The hillsides most unpromising and bleak
+  Do sometimes hide the ore.
+
+Go, dive in the vast ocean of thy mind,
+  O man! far down below the noisy waves,
+Down in the depths and silence thou mayst find
+  Rare pearls and coral caves.
+
+Sink thou a shaft into the mine of thought;
+  Be patient, like the seekers after gold;
+Under the rocks and rubbish lieth what
+  May bring thee wealth untold.
+
+Reflected from the vasty Infinite,
+  However dulled by earth, each human mind
+Holds somewhere gems of beauty and of light
+  Which, seeking, thou shalt find.
+
+
+
+BY-AND-BY.
+
+
+"By-and-by," the maiden sighed--"by-and-by
+He will claim me for his bride,
+Hope is strong and time is fleet;
+Youth is fair, and love is sweet,
+Clouds will pass that fleck my sky.
+He will come back by-and-by--by-and-by."
+
+"By-and-by," the soldier said--"by-and-by,
+After I have fought and bled,
+I shall go home from the wars,
+Crowned with glory, seamed with scars.
+Joy will flash from some one's eye
+When she greets me by-and-by--by-and-by."
+
+"By-and-by," the mother cried--"by-and-by,
+Strong and sturdy at my side,
+Like a staff supporting me,
+Will my bonnie baby be.
+Break my rest, then, wail and cry--
+Thou'lt repay me by-and-by--by-and-by."
+
+Fleeting years of time have sped--hurried by--
+Still the maiden is unwed;
+All unknown the soldier lies,
+Buried under alien skies;
+And the son, with blood-shot eye
+Saw his mother starve and die.
+God in Heaven! dost Thou on high,
+Keep the promised by-and-by--by-and-by?
+
+
+
+OVER THE MAY HILL.
+
+
+All through the night time, and all through the day time,
+  Dreading the morning and dreading the night,
+Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time
+  Season of beauty and season of blight,
+Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow,
+  Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere,
+Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow,
+  Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.
+
+Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are cheery,
+  Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens,
+Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary--
+  Too well I know what that weariness means.
+But how could I know in the crisp winter weather
+  (Though sometimes I noticed a catch in your breath),
+Riding and singing and dancing together,
+  How could I know you were racing with death?
+
+How could I know when we danced until morning,
+  And you were the gayest of all the gay crowd--
+With only that shortness of breath for a warning,
+  How could I know that you danced for a shroud?
+Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight,
+  Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave,
+Down in your eyes shone a deep light--a far light,
+  How could I know 'twas the light to your grave?
+
+Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing,
+  Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom,
+Cometh the shape and the shadow I'm fearing,
+  "Over the May hill" is waiting your tomb.
+The season of mirth and of music is over--
+  I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song,
+Under the violets, under the clover,
+  My heart and my love will be lying ere long.
+
+
+
+A SONG.
+
+
+Is any one sad in the world, I wonder?
+  Does any one weep on a day like this,
+With the sun above, and the green earth under?
+  Why, what is life but a dream of bliss?
+
+With the sun, and the skies, and the birds above me,
+  Birds that sing as they wheel and fly--
+With the winds to follow and say they love me--
+  Who could be lonely? O ho, not I!
+
+Somebody said, in the street this morning,
+  As I opened my window to let in the light,
+That the darkest day of the world was dawning;
+  But I looked, and the East was a gorgeous sight.
+
+One who claims that he knows about it
+  Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin;
+But I and the bees and the birds--we doubt it,
+  And think it a world worth living in.
+
+Some one says that hearts are fickle,
+  That love is sorrow, that life is care,
+And the reaper Death, with his shining sickle,
+  Gathers whatever is bright and fair.
+
+I told the thrush, and we laughed together,
+  Laughed till the woods were all a-ring:
+And he said to me, as he plumed each feather,
+  "Well, people must croak, if they cannot sing."
+
+Up he flew, but his song, remaining,
+  Rang like a bell in my heart all day,
+And silenced the voices of weak complaining,
+  That pipe like insects along the way.
+
+O world of light, and O world of beauty!
+  Where are there pleasures so sweet as thine?
+Yes, life is love, and love is duty;
+  And what heart sorrows? O no, not mine!
+
+
+
+FOES.
+
+
+Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear
+  As valued friends. He cannot know
+The zest of life who runneth here
+  His earthly race without a foe.
+
+I saw a prize. "Run," cried my friend;
+  "'Tis thine to claim without a doubt."
+But ere I half-way reached the end,
+  I felt my strength was giving out.
+
+My foe looked on the while I ran;
+  A scornful triumph lit his eyes.
+With that perverseness born in man,
+  I nerved myself, and won the prize.
+
+All blinded by the crimson glow
+  Of sin's disguise, I tempted Fate.
+"I knew thy weakness!" sneered my foe,
+  I saved myself, and balked his hate.
+
+For half my blessings, half my gain,
+  I needs must thank my trusty foe;
+Despite his envy and disdain,
+  He serves me well where'er I go.
+
+So may I keep him to the end,
+  Nor may his enmity abate:
+More faithful than the fondest friend,
+  He guards me ever with his hate.
+
+
+
+FRIENDSHIP.
+
+
+Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving
+  Thy strong regard for me,
+Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving;
+  Let thy faith speak for thee.
+
+Swear not to me that nothing can divide us--
+  So little such oaths mean.
+But when distrust and envy creep beside us
+  Let them not come between.
+
+Say not to me the depths of thy devotion
+  Are deeper than the sea;
+But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion
+  Embitter them for me.
+
+Vow not to love me ever and forever,
+  Words are such idle things;
+But when we differ in opinions, never
+  Hurt me by little stings.
+
+I'm sick of words: they are so lightly spoken,
+  And spoken, are but air.
+I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken
+  Than list thy words so fair.
+
+If all the little proofs of trust are heeded,
+  If thou art always kind,
+No sacrifice, no promise will be needed
+  To satisfy my mind.
+
+
+
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