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diff --git a/27024-8.txt b/27024-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..91bf845 --- /dev/null +++ b/27024-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2684 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Path of Dreams, by Leigh Gordon Giltner + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Path of Dreams + Poems + +Author: Leigh Gordon Giltner + +Release Date: October 25, 2008 [EBook #27024] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF DREAMS *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia, Diane Monico, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Leigh Gordon Giltner] + + + + +The Path of Dreams + +_POEMS_ + +_BY LEIGH GORDON GILTNER_ + +[Illustration] + +Fleming H. Revell Company +Chicago : New York : Toronto + + + + +COPYRIGHT 1900 + +BY LEIGH GORDON GILTNER + + + + +_TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER_ + + + + +Contents + +In Woodland Ways 9 + +Ashes of Roses 11 + +A Challenge 13 + +And Yet ... 15 + +The Master-Player 16 + +Afterbloom 17 + +To Bliss Carman 18 + +When Love Passed By 19 + +Hedonism ... Euthumism 21-22 + +Under the Leaves 23 + +Carmen 23 + +To R. D. MacLean 26 + +Love and Death 26 + +A Winter Landscape 27 + +Roses and Rue 28 + +Severance 47 + +Spartacus 48 + +The Dead Leader 50 + +Hagar 51 + +Flower-Fancies 52-53 + +Circe 54 + +To A. M. M. 55 + +Loveless 56 + +Clytie--The Sunflower 57 + +In Bondage 61 + +To a Singer 63 + +Blossom of Brine 64 + +A Memory 65 + +To Margaret 66 + +Regret 67 + +"God Bless You, Dear" 69 + +Roses 71 + +The Poet 72 + +Shylock 72 + +To Charles J. O'Malley 73 + +Antithesis 74 + +In Fortune's Twilight 74 + +Fate 75 + +The Path of Dreams 76 + +An Autumn Song 78 + +Vain 79 + +Sartor Resartus 80 + +Illumed 82 + +In The Play 83 + +To E. P. B. 84 + +Through The Dark 85 + +Preluding 86 + +The Heights of Silence 87 + +Andromeda 88 + +Requital 90 + +When Fades the Light 91 + +Butterflies 92 + +In the Dark Forest 93 + +Insatiate 95 + + + + +To One Who Sleeps + +(Obiit, June 8th, 1894.) + + +_Tho' storm and summer shine for long have shed +Or blight or bloom above thy quiet bed, +Tho' loneliness and longing cry thee dead-- +Thou art not dead, belovèd. Still with me +Are whilom hopings that encompass thee +And dreams of dear delights that may not be. +Asleep--adream perchance, dost thou forget +The sometime sorrow and the fevered fret, +Sting of salt tears and long unbreathed regret? +Liest thou here thro' long sunshiny hours, +Holding sweet converse with the springing flowers, +Harking the singing of the warm sweet showers +That fall like happy tears ... dost hear +The birds that unafraid assail thine ear-- +And yet art silent when I whisper? Dear, + Dost thou not hear?_ + +_Lying so low beneath the bending grass +In long, still smiling tranced for aye--alas! +Thou dost not harken when my footsteps pass. +If haply I some tender thing should tell +Thee of the springtime flowers thou once loved well-- +Anemone and shining asphodel; +Should steal from Nature some enchanted lay, +Some bird-song lilted where green branches sway-- +Heart-music that could stir thy heart alway; +Should call thee by the old fond name again, +Should tell thee all a heart's enduring pain +And long rememb'ring, would'st thou mute remain? +Alas! nor sigh nor song can thrill the ear +Tuned to Israfel's music in the sphere +Where things to thee erst dear no more are dear. + Thou dost not hear!_ + + + + +THE PATH OF DREAMS + + + + +In Woodland Ways + + +Out of the poignant glare, the shadeless heat +Of summer noon, beseech thee follow me +Into the dim, dream-haunted secrecy +The cool, green glooms, the grottoed deep retreat, +Of yon old wood; down aisles of lichened trees-- +Grey Merlins clasped by lissom Viviens +Of clinging vine--to cloistered sylvan glens, +Where Nature weaves her fairest mysteries. + +Here let us rest a little--find surcease +For feet grown weary of the thridded street +That echoes ever to the ceaseless beat +Of human tread;--a brief while know the ease +Of dreamful rest, to slumb'rous languors stilled +On Orient rugs of dappled mosses spread +In nooks where blossom, purple, white and red, +The flowers Summer's lavish hands have spilled. + +Wild woodland creatures near us unafraid, +Some strange enchantment doth the forest hold-- +Was that a sungleam, or a wand of gold +By tricksy Puck or wanton Ariel swayed? +Old oaks and beeches open wide their doors +And hamadryads veiled in golden sheen +Floating diaphanous o'er robes of green +Walk with still feet the forest's russet floors. + +Lo, here are fairies hid in flower-bells, +There wood-nymphs fleeing from pursuing fauns, +And naiads fleshed with hues of rosy dawns +Lie dreaming by white streams in dusky dells; +We tread dim paths untrod by foot of man +And hark the horn of Dian ringing clear; +While faint, elusive, thin--now far, now near, +Meseems I hear the oaten pipe of Pan. + +And while o'erhead the plaining wood-dove grieves, +The cardinal--a wingèd, scarlet flower-- +Sprays all the air with song, a golden shower +Of flutes-notes sifting downward thro' the leaves. +Ah, sweet enchantment doth the forest hold, +For Nature's self doth haunt these woodland ways, +My fevered brow on her cool breast she lays +And care slips from me as a garment old. + + + + +Ashes of Roses + + +Skies glooming overhead, + Autumn winds sighing; +Bare yonder garden bed, + Flowers low lying. +All their rich radiance fled, +All their pale petals shed, +Wan wraiths of Summer sped, + In Autumn's closes; +Crimson and cream and gold +Strewn on earth's bosom cold, +Mingling with umber mold-- + Ashes of roses. + +See, in yon waning West + Rich roses blowing +On Heaven's palimpsest + God's message glowing; +Rose hues and amethyst +Drenched in purpureate mist, +Darkness with Day keeps tryst, + Night's curtain closes; +Quenched is the burning gold, +Shadowed the upland wold, +Day's fires grow dull and cold + Ashes of roses. + +So on this heart of mine + Shadows are lying; +Lotus and rue entwine, + Dim dreams are dying; +Stilled is the thrill divine, +Spilled is the amber wine, +Dimly the cold stars shine; + Wan age discloses +All youth's bright blossoms dead, +All love's rare radiance sped, +All hope's pure petals shed-- + Ashes of roses. + + + + +A Challenge + + +To have lived, to have loved, to have triumphed!--what more can the + world bestow? +I stand at the close of the conflict, my foot on the neck of my foe. +Prone in the dust lies the demon Despair, still shouting his shibboleth +To the treacherous Amazon dark-browed Fate, and her grisly comrade, Death. +To have lived! To have felt in my veins the surge of the rich, red tide of + life, +The quickening stir of the strong man's heart that thrills to the sound + of strife; +To have wrested success from defeat, to have striven, and struggled, + and won-- +Shall this seem a small thing, think you, when the Battle of Ages is done? +To have loved! To have known of all raptures, the rapture supernal, divine, +To have felt the throb of your heart on my heart and the bloom of your + lips pressed to mine; +To have ranked with the gods on Olympus--myths tell us immortal Jove +Cleft with his swan-wings the blue of the sky for boon of a mortal's + love.... +I have lived, I have loved, I have triumphed! Let Death come, or early + or late! +I hurl my challenging gauntlet full in the face of Fate! +Fate may make wreck of a future--how can she alter the past? +I have tasted the sweets of life's chalice--why shrink from the lees + at the last? +How should I cavil at aught that shall come--I stand with your head on + my breast-- +I have fought as I might--I have gained _you_, beloved ... to God's + mercy the rest! +Tho' the heavens darken above me and the sky be shrunk as a scroll, +In the wreck and ruin of riven worlds, should I falter, O Soul of my soul? +Tho' the demon Despair, where he vanquished lies, still utter his + shibboleth-- +I fling my glove in the face of Fate and smile in the eyes of Death! + + + + +And Yet ... + + +Upon the meads where we were wont to stray, +'Guiling with springtime hopes the winter hours, +The Spring has smiled; yon slope that late gloomed gray +And sternly sad, 'neath April's tender showers +Grows green and glad again. The rippled grass, +A soundless sea o'er which white cloud-sails pass, +Breaks at my feet in billows foamed with flowers; +And blue-eyed myrtle blooms with lashes wet +Smile to me thro' their tears. The skies are blue, +And life is sweet to-day and hope seems true; +My heart is barren of its long regret-- + And yet... + +The willow wears a wistful green. A dream +Of Summer warmth the wine-sweet breezes hold, +Fair wildings blow--bright buttercups agleam +Like shining sequins scattered on the wold, +And daffodills--a wealth of faery gold. +The building birds their coming bliss presage +With lilt and lyric brimming o'er the page +Of Nature's volume bound in green and gold. +Here 'mid the birds and blossoms 'neath the blue-- +My heart unburthened of the old regret-- +Let me forget long striving to forget; +For life is sweet to-day and hope seems true-- +And yet... + + + + +The Master-Player + + +Mute was the mighty organ. None might break +The silence that had thralled it since was stilled +The master-hand beneath whose touch it thrilled +To music such as choiring seraphs make-- +Until a mightier Master came to wake +Th' elusive chords and subtle harmonies +That lay imprisoned in the cold white keys +And once again the soul of Music spake. +Methought my soul's most perfect melodies +No hand again to sonance could evoke-- +A silent harp whose potence none might prove-- +But, lo! one came who swept its chords and woke +Celestial strains, divinest harmonies, +Responsive to the master-touch of Love. + + + + +Afterbloom + + +Gay was her garden as some gorgeous fabric + Weft on an Orient loom, +Star-set upon the sward quaint, old-time blossoms + Wrought broidery of bloom. + +Verbenas, dahlias, asters, scarlet cannas + Like torches flaming tall; +(Methought the fair, old face, enframed in silver, + The sweetest flower of all!) + +And one rare rose she watched each year with hoping + Till the dear eyes grew dim-- +But ere a single blossom burst in beauty + God took her home to Him. +Yet when the Spring next woke the earth to laughter + And boon of blossom gave, +Starred was the rose with white, unearthly flowers-- + We laid them on her grave. + + * * * * * + +And so, meseems, the buds we woo most fondly + Nor light nor perfume shed; +And Love's gold-hearted rose and Hope's star-flower + Oft bloom when we are dead. + + + + +To Bliss Carman + + +Great hearted brother to the wilderness, + Comrade of Wind and Sea! Interpreter +Of nomad Nature! Ere the quick'ning stir + Of Spring-sap thrills the wood from sullen stress +Of Winter's spell--away from throngèd press + Of urban ways thy wild feet wander far +Tracking the steps of some white Northern star + Whose rays are beacon to thy restlessness. +Weird mystic of the Northland's mystery, + Thou 'front'st the Unseen Shadow, nor dost fear +To meet the Scarlet Hunter on the trail; + Pagan as Pan; to all things sylvan dear, +Nature's own vagrant, buoyant, driftless, free-- + All winds and woods and waters cry thee hail! + + + + +When Love Passed By + + +I dreamt of love in the golden glory +Of youth unshadowed by cloud or care; +Steeped in the love-lore of song and story, +I said, "My Love shall be wondrous fair." + +I said, "Her hands shall be filled with flowers, +(My heart shall tell me when Love draws nigh!) +She shall steal sweet boon from the graceless hours, +Her eyes shall be blue as the cerule sky. + +"Her hair shall be bright as the stars' gold gleaming, +Her lips shall be red with her heart's rich wine, +Her face shall be fair as my fondest dreaming, +Each pulse of my being shall call her mine!" + +Then long for the voice of my heart I harkened, +Tranced in love's hoping--all hope else forgot-- +I waited lonely; the daylight darkened, +The twilight deepened--but love came not. + +Then One passed by in the dusking shadows, +The night's dusk shadows slept on her hair-- +She passed like a gleam o'er the dew-drenched meadows, +And my heart throbbed fast--but she was not fair. + +Her face was pale and her dark eyes pleading, +Her smile was wistful and gravely sweet; +She passed me by where I stood unheeding, +And dropped a violet at my feet. + +She went her way o'er the silent meadows, +(Ah, traitorous heart that you tricked me so!) +I sat alone in the deepening shadows-- +Love had passed by--and I did not know. + + + + +Hedonism + + +Since we must sleep the endless Sleep at last, +Since Life's grim juggernaut 'neath ruthless wheels +Crushes the heart; since Age like Winter steals +On Youth's fair-flowered fields with blighting blast-- +Then to the gods our doubts and fears be cast! +Enough of Sorrow! Joyance is our due. +Gather the roses! Spurn th' envenomed rue. +Fling to the waiting winds the pallid past. +Steep thee in mellow moods and dear desires; +Pluck Love's flame-hearted flower ere it dies; +Cull nectared kisses sweet as morning's breath, +Warm Chastity at Passion's purple fires; +Nepenthe quaff--till drained the chalice lies. +After ... the shrouded sleep, the dreamless dark of Death. + + * * * * * + + + + +Euthumism + + +If in the spirit glows no spark divine; +If soulless dust return to dust again; +If, after life, but death and dark remain-- +Then it were well to make the moment thine, +Bacchante-steeping soul and sense in wine, +In lotus-lulling languors, fond desires +That heat the heart with fierce, unhallowed fires-- +Till Pleasure, Circe-like, transform us into swine. +But if some subtler spirit thrill our clay, +Some God-like flame illume this fleeting dust-- +Promethean fire snatched from the Olympian height-- +Then must we choose the nobler, higher Way, +Seeking the Beautiful, the Pure, the Just-- +The ultimate crowned triumph of the Right! + + + + +Under the Leaves + + +The phalanxes of corn stand grim and serried, + Dull gold the sodden sheaves, +The violets that smiled with Spring are buried + Under the leaves. + +Along the land the Winter's doom is creeping + All vainly Autumn grieves; +And she who made my heart's sweet Spring is sleeping + Under the leaves. + + + + +Carmen + + +Night in Seville, and the twinkle + Of stars in the far azure set, +The mandolin's torturing tinkle, + The click of the castanet! +Music and wine and low laughter, + Love and a torment of tune-- +Hate and a poignard thereafter, + Under the yellow moon. + +Here in the night I await her, + Under the slumberous moon; +Yearns my fierce spirit to mate her-- + All my sick senses aswoon +Beneath the wild sway of her dancing + Passion and pride are at war;-- +Thrall to her amorous glancing, + Grandee and toreador. + +Carmen Gitana, behold her! + Bright passion-flower of the South; +Soft Southern languors enfold her, + Scarlet the bloom of her mouth; +Passionate, sensuous, cruel, + Raying warm laughter and light, +A ruby--a scintillant jewel-- + Set on the brow of the Night! + +Ah, the wild rhythm of her dancing! + Lithe with the jaguar's grace, +Ah, the sweet fire of her glancing, + The love-litten lure of her face! +And ah, in my fierce arms to hold her + This strange scarlet flower of the South. +Close to my heart-beat to fold her + Drinking the wine of her mouth! + +Sweet, thou art weary with dancing, + Sick of the music and light +Praises and overbold glancing-- + Steal with me into the night; +Out of the riot of laughter, + Out of the torment of tune-- +Love and close kisses thereafter + Under the sensuous moon! + +Carmen, my fierce arms enfold thee, + Bright passion-flower of the South, +Close to my hot heart I hold thee, + Crushing the flower of thy mouth. +Love--for the loving that swayed me, + Passion--for passion long past-- +Hate--for the hate that betrayed me ... + My dirk in your side at the last! + + + + +To R. D. MacLean + + +If words were wingèd arrows tipped with flame, +Far-flying thro' the vast of time and space, +If Erato should lend me some rare grace, +Then might I dare to breathe in song your name. +Ah, Player-king, unmoved by all renown, +Acclaim and praise that wait upon your name, +You pluck a laurel from the wreath of fame, +Then, careless of the guerdon, cast it down. + + + + +Love and Death + + +Ever athwart Life's sunlit, upland ways +Falleth the shadow of impending Death, +And still Life's flowers beneath his blighting breath +To ashes wither, and to dust, her bays. +What were the worth of hard-won power or praise? +Awaits us all the grave-cell dark and deep, +The greedy grave-worm's maw, the awful sleep +When Death his cold hand on our pulses lays. +What then the end of action or of strife? +The sphinxèd riddle of the Universe, +Nature's unsolved enigma, who may prove? +Life's Passion Play all blindly men rehearse.... +But yet our recompense for birth, for life, +For death itself, meseems, is deathless Love! + + + + +A Winter Landscape + + +A mystic world mantled in white simarre +Arachne-spun with argent woof; her wede +Starred with strange crystals wrought from frozen spar, +Sprent with pearl frost-flowers; girt with diamond brede, +Rubied with berries red as drops of blood, +Befringed with gelid, many-irised gems; +Broidered with lace weft of an elfin brood-- + Hoar filagree to deck her garment hems. + +Sheer slanting down the sky an opal light +Pierces the snow-blur's veil of wannish gray, +In iridescent sheen, tingeing the dazzling white +With amethystine, gold or beryl ray. +Along the West the transient sunset gleam-- +An ardor brief! Crimson on crimson grows +Till all the waning sky, incarnadine, + Glows like blown petals of a shattered rose. + + + + +Roses and Rue + + +I. + +A swift thought flashed to my mind that day +When I first saw you, regally tall +'Mid a throng of pigmies--a very Saul-- +How some woman's heart must admit your sway, +Some woman's soul to your soul be thrall; +(And though not for me were the rapture to prove you, +I thrilled as I thought how a woman might love you!) + +Then--strange that our eyes for a moment should meet +And hold each other a breathless space, +That a light as of dawn should leap into your face, +That the lips that were stern should an instant grow sweet-- +Ere you turned, at a word, with a courtier's grace. +(And I knew that tho' many a woman had loved you, +Till that moment, the glance of no woman had moved you!) + +Then you stood at my side and one murmured your name, +The proud old name that you worthily wore, +And I drank the soul-chalice Fate's mandate upbore +To my lips, as the fire of your glance leapt to flame; +What need were of words? heart speaks heart evermore-- +(And I knew that were mine but the rapture to prove you, +How deeply, how dearly one woman might love you!) + + +II. + +Do I idly dream, as the village maid, +Who thinks, as she spins, of a princekin gay +On a prancing steed, who shall come her way +To woo her and win her and bear her away +Thro' the vasty depths of the forest shade +To a palace set in a sylvan glade,-- +To love her for aye and a day? + +Is it like that he with his princely pride-- +The son of a proud old race, +Shall stoop with Cophetua's kingly grace +To lift me up to the vacant place, +To reign like a queen at his side? +Can the world afford him no worthier bride-- +No bride with a queenlier grace? + +Aye, a foolish dream for a sordid day +When men seek power--and women, gold-- +Gone is the chivalrous age of old +When maids were loving and men were bold, +And good King Arthur held knightly sway! +Ah, love and knighthood were laid away +With the cuirass and helm of old. + + * * * * * + +But a horseman rides to the wicket gate-- +All my pulses proclaim it he, +My knight who has parted the waves of the sea, +Who has cleft the wide world in his searching for me.... +Fond, foolish, dreaming!--for surely Fate +Decrees him the winning a worthier mate +Than a simple girl like me! + + +III. + +Why does he come to me, +With his deep, impassioned eyes, +Stealing my soul from me? +Surely a high emprise +For such an one as he +To smile an hour on me-- +To win a worthless prize, +Would he might let me be! +Proud am I--proud as he +For my name as his is old-- +What should he say to me? +I have neither lands nor gold. +Ah, a merry jest 'twill be +To win my heart from me-- +(The tale will be soon told!) +Would he might let me be! + + +IV. + +Swept, swept away is my vaunted pride +On a flood-tide of tenderness; +I envy the dog that bounds to his side, +And the chestnut mare he is wont to ride +'Cross moor and mead when the day is fine, +As she lays her head in a mute caress +'Gainst the arm of _her_ lord--and _mine!_ + + +V. + +Ah, silver and gold of the glad June morning-- +Gold of the sunshine and silver of dew, +Dew drop gems all the meads adorning-- +Are love and the rose-time a theme for scorning? +Roses, roses,--dream not of rue! + Am I not loved by you? + +Antiphonal to sweet sylvan singers, +The brook with its maddening, gladdening rune! +And my lover's kiss still thrills and lingers, +Lingers and burns on my tremulous fingers! +Ah, birds in a very riot of tune +Pour out my joy to the heart of June! + +He loves me--loves me! My heart is singing.-- +(Heart, oh heart of my heart is it true?) +Song on my lips from my soul upringing, +A passion of bliss to the breezes flinging, +Roses, roses--nor dream of rue! + I am beloved by you. + + +VI. + +To be his wife! Calm all my soul is filling, +A calm too deep for smiles--or even tears; +A perfect trust to slumber subtly stilling + My whilom doubts and fears. + +Each little common thing to me seems rarer, +My life each day becomes more dear to me; +Love, am I fair? Ah, fain would I be fairer-- + And yet more fair for thee. + +Like to a priestess some loved shrine adorning, +I deck the charms but poorly prized, till late, +The beauty once I held too slight for scorning-- + To thee, now consecrate! + +As if some god of old had stooped to love me-- +Some star had pierced my darkness with its ray-- +I worship thee--an idol throned above me-- + Forgetting thou art clay. + +Rejoicing in the gift that God has given, +I may forget the Giver. Love, I fear +Lest I shall e'en forget to sigh for Heaven-- + When heaven for me is here! + + +VII. + +Strange that a love supreme +Should be swayed by a petty pride, +As a straw might turn aside +The swift onflowing tide +Of a mighty seaward stream! + +I know that the fault was mine, +But I cannot, will not speak; +How should I, suppliant, meek, +His gracious pardon seek-- +Tho' the fault were mine--all mine? + +Aye, tho' my heart should break, +Something--or pride or shame-- +Forbids me that I should claim +As mine the fault, the blame-- +Aye, tho' my heart should break! + + +VIII. + +Last night he came to me, +His dark eyes grave and sweet-- +(Eyes that I could not meet!) +To crave my pardon--_mine!_ +With that kingly courtesy +Which makes his least deed fine. + +What fiend took hold on me? +I would nor speak nor heed, +Tho' he bent his pride to plead-- +(He, all unused to sue!) +Though he sought full tenderly +For a pardon not _his_ due. + +Fool! to have played with fire-- +Had I not full often heard +How when his wrath was stirred +It burst all bounds and leapt +Higher and ever higher +Like flames by the storm-wind swept? + +Yet--tho' his face was white +With a passion that shook his soul-- +Not once did he waive control, +Tho' his heart to its depths was stirred-- +He leashed his wrath that night +Nor uttered one bitter word. + +Pride held me stubbornly dumb, +Stilling what words I would say, +While I flung my heart's treasure away, +While I tampered with fire--to my cost; +Till I knew the ultimate end had come-- +I had matched pride with love--and lost! + + +IX. + + What poisoned pen has written + The words that bar my breath; + What hard, harsh hand has smitten + My soul with death? + +"_Love, my love_"--these the words I read-- +"_The vision and dream of a life have died. +Hurt to the heart by the words you said,_ +Angered, stung by a wounded pride, +Mad with the thought that your love was dead-- +I have wedded a loveless, unloved bride-- + Would I had died instead!_" + + My heart refuses to understand + The words that burn my brain; + Palsied, stunned by a felling blow + Struck by a cherished hand, + I am all too numb for pain; + Dead to a deathless woe, + Helpless to understand, + Shall I ever feel again? + + +X. + +Awake, alive to pain! The first steel gleam of morn +Stabs deep the heart I thought had shrunk to dust, +The love I prayed might die to loveless scorn +Awakes and cries ... Ah, God, how is it just +A fault so slight such meed of pain should pay, +That one mad word in pride and anger spoken +Should leave two lives forever crushed and broken, +Should plait a scourge to lash my soul for aye? + +How can a just God see men suffer thus?-- +Unheedful of the cosmic cry of pain, +Unmoved by all the pangs that torture us, +Knowing our prayers and tears alike are vain-- +Like to a wanton boy who feels no thrill +Of pity for the weak his strength holds thrall, +Who pins a helpless butterfly against a wall, +Watching the bright wings flutter and grow still. + +We are the sport of some malignant Power +Who nails us to our crosses, hard and fast, +Who sees us flutter for a little hour, +Struggle and suffer ... and grow still at last; +Who hears untouched the ceaseless, cosmic groan +Wrung from his creatures' tortured lips alway; +He will not hear or heed! What need to pray? +There is no hand to help. We stand alone. + + * * * * * + +Father, forgive! I know not what I say, +Frenzied, tortured, torn on the rack of pain; +Teach these pain-writhen lips once more to pray-- + Help me to trust again! + + +XI. + + A year! How slight a space + When winged with ecstasy! + (An æon dark to me.) +He has brought her home--God lend me grace! +To-night in the throng I shall see his face-- + He has long forgotten me. + A year! I have learned to smile, + I have taught my eyes to lie, +I have lived and laughed and sung--the while + I have only longed to die. + + +XII. + +I have seen him once again, +There in the throng with his wife +(An eagle matched with a pitiful wren!) +Bitter in sooth has his portion been-- +Chained to a clog for life! +Strange that our eyes as of yore should meet +And hold each other a breathless space, +That the dawn-light of old should illumine his face, +That the lips that were stern should an instant grow sweet, +Touched with the old-time tender grace. +But his eyes were haggard and old with pain +(Traitors to thwart his resolute will!) +They told me the struggle was vain--all vain! + He loves me--loves me still. + + +XIII. + +Cruel! that I should be glad + That he loves and suffers still, +Yet how should my soul be sad +That his passionate, resolute will +Cannot crush the love that is stronger than he, + The love that is all for me! + +The year has left its trace + (Cover it how he will!) +On the proud, impassive face +And I know how he suffers still-- +Thrall to a love that is stronger than he, + A love that is all for me. + +Surely, ah surely, I know + I who have known his love, +I who have loved him so, +What such a bond must prove, +Linked to a loveless, unloved wife, + Chained to a clog for life! + + +XIV. + + She loves him not, they say, + Save for his lands and gold; + She is narrow, selfish, cold, + Stabbing and wounding his soul each day, + Growing further and further away + From the heart it was hers to hold. + + Yet not all blameless he, + A woman is quick to feel + What man would fain conceal; + Surely she can but see + That naught to his life is she, + Nay--nor can ever be! + +I am happier--happier far--than he; +He is meshed in a galling silken hold, +Bound with a jewelled band of gold; +While I, at least, am free. +And I know what his daily life must be. +Linked with a nature paltry, slight, +He with his generous, kingly soul, +Stung and goaded past all control +By a thousand petty barbs of venom and spite. + +Once, but once have we met, +And we spoke of trivial things, +Of the changes a twelvemonth brings, +Of late Summer, lingering yet... +(Ah, how should a heart that has loved forget?) +Traitors ever to thwart his will +His eyes confirm what I half divine. +A bitter, bootless victory mine, +He cannot choose but to love me still! + + +XV. + +Whose was the fault, the blame? +She has fled and left him free, +Free! but a stain of shame +Rests on the proud old name. +At a bitter cost she has set him free-- +Free! with a blemished fame. + +And he with the pride of his race, +With a resolute, calm control, +Locks in his heart the heart's disgrace, +Shows of his shame no subtlest trace, +Hiding the hurt of a stricken soul +'Neath the calm of a passionless face. + +He had deemed it a cowardly thing to fly +While the village prated anent his shame, +And an added blot on his noble name + By his own hand to die. + +But oft in the deep of night I hear +Borne on the wild night wind, +The beat of the mare's hoofs thundering past, +And my heart is clutched by an icy fear +Of a direful thing that may chance at last; +For ride he never so far, so fast-- +Black Care rides hard behind. + + +XVI. + +Last night as I stood in the gloaming's gray, +Ere the moon came into the sky, +He came to me for a last good-bye-- + At last he is going away. + +His face in the dusk showed stern and set, +Old and haggard and worn with pain; +"Dear, I may never see you again-- + Mine but the meed regret! +How can I ask you to share my shame, +How can I give you my blemished name, + Yet how shall the heart forget? + +Naught in my life save a dream have I, +A dream--a vision, too fair to be, +A rose that blooms 'mid the rue for me-- + Naught but a dream ... Good-bye." + +And then, ere he lifted his bridle rein +To ride away down the dark'ning land, +He bent and touched with his lips the hand +I had laid on the chestnut's mane. + + +XVII. + +Something ... my senses will scarce recall ... +The horror they came in the night to tell ... +The mare had galloped riderless home, +Blown and bleeding and flecked with foam, +And they found him there by the sunken wall, +Hurt to the death by the desperate fall. +How it had chanced, he could only tell, +Ere the merciful numbness stole his brain; +How the chestnut rose to the leap and fell.... +Then his senses closed on the shocks of pain. +He spoke, they told me, but once again-- +To whisper my name with his struggling breath-- +(Thank God, he suffered so brief a while) +Then peacefully sank on the breast of Death, + Dead, with his lips asmile. + +How can I wish him alive again, +Lying so peacefully, placidly still, +With that carven smile on his marble face. +How can I pray that his heart should thrill +To waking and waking's pain? +Lying so peacefully, placidly still. +With the old, sweet smile on his quiet face, +Dead to the sting of a heart's disgrace.... +How should I wish him a lesser grace, +How should I strive with a wiser Will? +Yet how can the heart that is reft divine +Death's mystical, measureless charity? +The cry of the stricken king is mine: + "Would I had died for thee!" + + + + +Severance + + +Not severed by long leagues of lonely land, + Nor sundered by wide wastes of sounding sea; +But ever side by side and hand in hand, + And yet--apart are we. + + + + +Spartacus + + +He stands storm-browed, imperial, chief + Of all Rome's gladiators; brave + Beyond all others; fearless in belief, + A captive--but no slave. +His brow is like a god's--a brow of power, + Lips soft with human sweetness--ere the day + He entered the arena, and the hour + He first beheld man's life-blood mixed with clay. + +Felt rise within him bestial strange desires + And savage instincts in a brutal heart + That battened on men's blood; burned with unhallowed fires + Of slaughter--till--a thing apart, +A hired butcher of his fellow men, he stands + Daring the fasting lion in his den, + Or some fierce gladiator on the blood-stained sands,-- + A savage chief of yet more savage men! + +He stands, with massive throat and thews of steel, + While loud acclaims the listening heavens fill, + And Roman women smile. He does not know; or feel + A moment's joy or one triumphant thrill. +He heeds them not. He sees as in a dream + His home and Cyrasella's citron groves; + A youth again, beside some purling stream, + With gladsome heart and joyous pipe he roves. + +He sees anon that gentle shepherd boy, + Who knew no harsher sound than plaining flute, + In the arena stand--Rome's sport and toy-- + A bestial, blood-stained hireling brute.... +Then swift thro' every throbbing, pulsing vein + The fierce unconquered spirit of old Sparta ran. + Rome's fiercest gladiator is to-day again + A Thracian--and a man! + + + + +The Dead Leader + + +After the waiting and the anguished weeping + He lies at rest at last. +How should we mourn him tranced in peaceful sleeping, + His pain all past! + +The Right's Excalibur his strong arm wielded + A little space lies low; +The victor in life's sometime strife has yielded + To man's last Foe. + +Late--all too late--our loyal tribute giving + A loyal, fearless soul! +He whom we honored late--so late--while living, + Lies dead beside the goal. + +Yet this the solace of these long sad hours + While we who loved him weep, +We breathe an answering message in our flowers + To him who lies asleep. + +To him whom soon the deep, cold earth must cover, + To him whose dying breath +Left to our hearts a message bridging over + The dark abyss of Death. + + + + +Hagar + + +To have known Heaven and then to walk in Hell! +Is it not hell to know his face no more, +Supplanted, spurned and thrust without his door. +Seeing another with my loved lord dwell +Sheltered within the tents of wedded love +While I must roam the desert of Despair? +Ah, God above me harken to my prayer! +Send down thy mercy on me as a dove +Folding its white wings on my tortured breast. +Let me not see the anguish of my child +With hunger torn, with thirst's consuming wild, +Strike us, oh God, into Thy deep dark Rest! +Lo! I have sinned. I kneel and kiss the rod, +But she, the wife, who cast us forth to die ... +I curse her not! Judge Thou between us, God, +Which in Thy sight is guiltier, she or I? + + + + +Water-Lilies + + +They float ethereal, unearthly white + Upon the bosom of the darkling mere, +Raying the dusk with slumbrous silver light-- + Eidolons of lost moons erst mirrored there. + + + + +Salvias + + +Wooing the wind's wild caresses, + Courting the sun's fierce flame-- +Wantons in cardinal dresses + Flaunting their scarlet shame. + + + + +Yellow Jessamine + + +Like little yellow stars that, fallen down, + Hang pendulous, enmeshed among the boughs, +Mild golden radiances they gem the crown + Fair Summer sets upon her beauteous brows. + + + + +Sunflowers + + +They bloom in lowly places-- + Unmeet for fairer beds-- +Like swarthy Ethiop faces + With yellow-turbaned heads. + + + + +The Rose + + +All Orient odors, spikenard, balm and myrrh, + Perfumes of Araby and farthest Ind-- +Sweet incense from the chaliced heart of her + She pours upon the feet of every wind. + + + + +Circe + +I. + + +Where fair Ææia smiles across the sea +To olive-crowned Italia, th' enchantress dwells-- +A woman set about with dreams and spells, +Weird incantations, charms and mystery. +Most strangely pale and strangely fair is she-- +Yet deadlier than the hemlock draught her smile, +Darker than Stygian glooms her subtle guile.... +Drawn by her deep eyes' spell, across the sea +The Argive galleys wing, till beached they lie +Upon the fatal strand. The Greeks beguile +The hasting hours with revelry and wine +Within her halls.... Eftsoon strange sorcery +The Circe weaves. They who were men erewhile +Now grovel at her feet, transformed to swine. + + +II. + +'Neath myriad mellow tapers' golden glow +A woman stands, proud, insolent and fair; +A single gem meshed in the dusk-dyed hair +Burns like the evening star descending low +Adown the dark'ning sky. Upon the snow +Of her full-blossomed breast deep rubies lie. +Her fragrant presence breathes sweet sorcery; +The shimmering saffron satin's flexile flow +Outlines each sinuous curve; a sensuous smile, +A touch that fires to flame each pulsant vein-- +One draught of eyes more deep than depths of wine +The senses steal, the soul and brain beguile +Till all seem merged in feeling ... and again +A Circe's spells transform men into swine. + + + + +To A. M. M. + + +She is so shy, this little love of mine, + So pale and pure, almost I fear to speak +The love that thrills my every pulse like wine + Yet brings no answering flush to her fair cheek. + +She is so calm that Passion's stirring strain + To chanson soft and low unbidden dies; +The while her longing lover sighs in vain + For one soft love-glance from her down-dropped eyes. + +A lily she that from its garden bed, + Into the golden sunshine glad and sweet +Lifts to far sapphire skies its radiant head, + Unheedful of the base weeds at its feet. + +Yet--should one loving reverently kneel + And draw the lily's close-shut leaves apart, +Perchance those waxen petals might reveal + Enshrined within, a glowing golden heart. + + + + +Loveless + + +As some poor starveling at a palace gate + Sees curtained gleams from banquet-litten halls, +Hears song out-ringing from the festal walls, + Scents viands that shall princely palates sate, +Yet in the outer gloom may only wait, + Crouched in the cold, thrice-thankful for some least +Mean morsel flung him from the plenteous feast-- + Poor bondman to the ball and chain of Fate! +So, lonely at Love's outer gate I stand + And glimpse the brightness and the bliss within, +Where love-lit smiles transmute the dark to day-- + I wait without--I may not enter in; +Long, wistfully, I gaze--then void of hand + And starved of spirit, sadly turn away. + + + + +Clytie--The Sunflower + +(To F. H.) + + +In pale green twilight lands + Under the sea +Her rainbow palace stands, + Irised and opaline; + Agate and almondine, +Corals and pearly shells +Swept from deep ocean dells, + Strewing the silver strands, + Starring the golden sands +In the green twilight lands + Under the sea. + +All thro' the dreamy day + Under the sea +Where the sea-maidens play, + Twining foam-garlands fair, + Girding their golden hair, +Clad in her moss-robe green +Veiled in her bright locks' sheen-- + Where the dim seaweeds sway, + Trackless her white feet stray +All thro' the dreamy day + Under the sea. + +Or like a star she glides + Over the sea, +Deftly her steeds she guides-- + Gold-fish that glint and gleam, + Jewels alive they seem-- +Softly the surges swell, +Rocking the rosy shell + Where the sea-maiden rides, + Wafture of wooing tides, +Swift as a star she glides + Over the sea. + +One day she lifts her eyes + Up from the sea +Where the great sun-god flies + Over the world afar, + Guiding his golden car-- +All his star brow aglow, +All his bright hair aflow; + Dawn in his radiance lies, + Dusk at his coming dies-- +Hapless she lifts her eyes + Up from the sea. + +Swiftly his steeds speed on + Over the sea, +Soon is the splendor flown, + Lone on the shore she stands. + Stretching imploring hands, +Lifting impassioned eyes +Where the last sun-gleam dies; + All the day's brightness gone, + Hapless she stands alone, +Heedless the god speeds on + Over the sea. + +Ever her wistful gaze + Over the sea +Yearns on the sun-god's rays-- + Till by some subtle power + Changed to a golden flower-- +Still in her robe of green, +Crowned with her gold hair's sheen + Slight on her stem she sways ... + Yet does her yearning gaze +Follow the sun-god's rays + Over the sea. + + + + +In Bondage + + +What can it profit a man tho' he have the soul of a god +Sunk in the form of a beast, with a senseless simian face-- +What can the world perceive of the subtler inward grace +Breathing upon the dust of the coarse clay clod? +What knows the world of me--the Me that is prisoned within-- +Seeing only the self that sickens its sensitive eyes-- +How can it know that this hateful mask hides not the sneer of Sin, +That this cloak of crass, crude flesh, is a trusty soul's disguise? + +What can I hope to win? Which of the gifts men prize? +What can I have or hold of the bounteous boon I crave-- +I, with the coarse stubbed hands, the dull and narrow eyes, +The low-browed leer of the brutal, base-born slave? +What can I know of Love? I, with my ape-like face, +Frighting the tender trust of the timorous, shrinking maid, +Who, drawn by my deep soul's spell, half-yields to the soul's embrace +Then looks on its hideous mask and trembles and flees dismayed. + +Yet must the soul of fire chained to this cursed clay, +Galled by its fetters of flesh, seared with a thousand scars, +Shriek and struggle and beat its breast on its prison bars +Thro' the night's long dark of despair till the dawning of ultimate day, +Till the glow of that ultimate dawn transfigure the tortured face +And the sacred fire within crumble the coarse clay clod. +Till the Soul, breathed on by an unseen, unknown Grace, +Stripped of its bonds of flesh, stand face to face with its God! + + + + +To a Singer + + +Beneath thy Midas touch life's sullen grays +Are thrilled to sudden gold; as some far gleam +From wings of Helios athwart thy dream +Irradiates for thee earth's darksome ways. +Wild woodland voices ripple thro' thy lays; +Sweet silvern murmurs from some deep-delled spring, +Brook, tree and flower and each insensate thing, +The throstle's call, the calm of sun-steeped days, +A glint of sunshine on the swallow's wing, +Fern-filagrees, the drowsy drone of bee +Made drunk with draughts of purple wild-grape wine; +All these Orphèan music holds for thee, +And all thy days and dreams companioning +Walks Nature with her hand close-clasped in thine. + + + + +Blossom of Brine + + +Morn! and a white sail winging +Over the sunlit waves; +A song on the breezes ringing +Up from the coral caves +Where sea-nymphs, white arms lifting +Wreaths for the sea-god twine +Of the frail foam-flowers drifting +On the wave-crests--blossom of brine. + +Night! and a dark rack flying +Over the sullen waves; +A dirge on the night winds sighing +Up from the cold sea caves +Where sea-nymphs white arms lifting +Wreaths for a pall entwine +For a still white face is drifting +On the wave-crest--blossom of brine. + + + + +A Memory + + +Strange that across the vast of varied years, + Fraught with life's wonted alloy--mingled joy and pain-- +Sun-kissed with smiles or gloomed with mists of tears, + Old memories should wake to life again. +Old thoughts and dreams, words breathed by lips long dumb, + Songs sung by voices silent now for aye, +Like hosts of speechless spectres thronging come + Dim formless wraiths of each dear vanished day. + +Strange that a fragment of a life replete, + A few brief hours as men measure time, +A chapter in life's book, closed now--yet vaguely sweet + As odor-laden zephyrs from some far-off clime-- +Should drift across my heart while joysome memories rise + Of golden moments snatched from Arcady, +Of silver sails and opal-tinted skies, + Of viridescent earth and sapphire sea. + +Of Lotus-land where pleasure dreamful lies, + Of kindred souls responsive each to each, +Of thoughts half hidden by deep-tinted eyes-- + (Sweet traitors telling that denied to speech!) +The merest fragment of a life replete, + A sun-gleam 'mid existence's sombre grays, +Eyes, hands and hearts that for one moment meet + In strange, sweet yearning ... then--divided ways. + + + + +To Margaret + + +Maiden of varying mood, +Thalia thou hast wooed, + Thespis thereafter, +Till 'neath thy lyric sway +Each heart must tribute pay-- + Tears blent with laughter. +So in the days to be +This do we crave for thee, + Through life's hereafter, +Throughout the changing years, +May all thy griefs and tears + Be blent with laughter. + + + + +Regret + + + Shimmer of rose and pearl, +Sheen on an opal sky; + Day's crimson banners unfurl, +Purple-pleached shadow-gleams die; + Dawn flowers bourgeoning fair, +Meads with the dawn-dews wet; + Rare is the morn--ah, rare! +But in the heart, regret-- + A vague regret. + + Clouds like the scattered snow +Stippling a sapphire sky; + Fervor and heat and glow, +Zephyrs that swoon and die. + Drowseth the nooning air +On meads with red poppies set; + Fair is the day--ah, fair! +But in the heart, regret-- + And still ... regret. + + Flashes of burning gold, +Flushes of crimson light + Faint on a waning wold, +Stealeth the silent night. + One from a casement bar +Leaneth with lashes wet, + Watching the last wan star +Fade like a heart's regret-- + A vain regret. + + + + +"God Bless You, Dear" + + +Dear patient face and placid brow, + Dear lips that smiled despite of pain, +Brave toil-worn hands, so helpful now, + Sweet spirit free from earthly stain. +Within the doorway Mother stands, + The while a merry barefoot lad, +Across the springtime meadow-lands + Goes whistling schoolward, blithe and glad; +And where the pathway breasts the hill, + I stay my steps and turn to hear +Her loving voice, as lingering still, + She calls, "Good-bye! God bless you, dear." + +Dear patient face and furrowed brow, + Dear lips that smile thro' all life's pain, +Brave toil-worn hands, so weary now, + Sweet soul unmarred by earthly stain. +Within the doorway Mother stands, + The while a man oppressed with care, +Across the waning Autumn lands, + Goes toil-ward, fain to strive and bear; +And where the pathway breasts the hill, + I stay my steps and turn to hear +Her trembling voice, as ling'ring still, + She calls, "Good-bye! God bless you, dear." + +Dear peaceful face and placid brow, + Dear lips that smile secure from pain, +Brave toil-worn hands, soft-folded now, + Sweet spirit freed from earthly stain. +Within God's portal Mother stands, + The while a man forspent with care +Seeketh the far-off meadow-lands, + By faith made strong to strive and bear. +And as I breast life's weary hill, + I ofttimes pause--meseems I hear +The well-loved accents breathing still + The old fond prayer, "God bless you, dear." + + + + +Roses + + +"Where leaves the Rose of Yesterday?"--Rubàiyat. + +A red rose burns upon his breast + Where erst a white rose lay; +Above his fervent heart-throb pressed-- + The red rose of To-day. + +What recks he of the flower that dies-- + (For roses bloom alway!) +Low in the dust, forgotten, lies + The rose of Yesterday. + +But yet, To-day's red rose must die, + (For roses fade alway!) +To-morrow crushed, forgot, 'twill lie-- + A rose of Yesterday. + + + + +The Poet + + +One fluting on sad wolds Pan's flight left drear, + One crying down the wayward wind of Chance, +One piping unto feet that will not dance + And mourning unto ears that will not hear. + + + + +Shylock + + +Cold craft and avarice look from out his eyes, +His face with evil passion marred and seamed, +Looks frowningly upon a Christian world. +Behind that hateful mask a demon lurks +To urge the narrow soul to darksome deeds +Of violence and greed, of hate and ruth. +His God, a God of wrath, a tyrant force +To mete to helpless souls eternal doom; +A Juggernaut, a hard unsentient power,-- +But yet less potent than the yellow gold +Those crooked talons clutch, and for the which +The miser Shylock fain would sell his soul. + + + + +Sonnet + +(To Charles J. O'Malley.) + + +As when above orchestral undertone, + The plaining wail of muted violin, + The hushed oböe and the distant din, +Of muffled drum or viol's raucous groan-- +Sudden arises one pure voice-like tone, + A silver trumpet's tongue that stirs the soul + To feel the theme, and the harmonious whole +A sonant setting seems for that alone; +So, high above earth's murmurous stir and strife, + Riseth thy voice in clear enringing song-- + No minor plaint of dull despairing pain, +But one true note of hope that bids us long + For higher things; and all the din of life + Seems to subserve the sweetness of thy strain. + + + + +Antithesis + + +The poet wrought a song of sadness, fraught + With all the pain the world's sad heart hath proved; +He sang of doubt, and dreams that end in naught ... + Then, smiling, turned and kissed the lips he loved. + +The poet wrought a song of joyance, thrilled + With all the peace the world's glad heart hath kept; +He sang of hope and happy dreams fulfilled ... + Then bent his face upon his hands and wept. + + + + +In Fortune's Twilight + + +The old house totters 'neath its weight of years, +Bowed, like the form of him who shelters there, +Old, friendless, lone--save for the wanton, Care, +Who flouts him, mocks his grief with gibes and jeers +And laughs to see his piteous hopes grow fears. +Not his the joy of placid, sun-crowned age-- +His dim eyes falter as he scans the page +Of Life's worn album, blotted with his tears. +He sees in dreams the wife he loved--long dead; +The son--once proud to bear his father's name-- +Who mixed his honest blood with dire disgrace; +The wayward girl who wrought her father shame ... +He sits alone with Care; the day has fled +And twilight falls, upon the furrowed face. + + + + +Fate + + +Thro' countless æons sunless and remote + A Soul went searching for its spirit mate, +Thro' star-stained space, o'er wind-swept deep, afloat, + Forever desolate. + +Anon, another spirit, lone of heart + Goes forth thro' voiceless void to seek its mate; +Eftsoon they meet, these twain, strike hands ... and part! + And this is Fate. + + + + +The Path of Dreams + + +Beside the stream that silverly steals on +To swell the song of that far-sounding sea +Which breaks upon the utmost shore of Thought, +They who have drunk at Song's immortal spring +Walk with glad feet the upland path of dreams +That whitely winds thro' long low-lying lands-- +By one, yclept the Way of Fools--a plain +Of dust and ashes and of Dead Sea fruit; +But by another called the Path of Hope +That leads far up the slope of heart's desire;-- +And haply both speak truth--for oft the way +Is set with stones that tear the climbing feet, +And oft for roses there is bitter rue, +And oft for singing there is idle scorn, +And sneers full oft for smiles. Yet well we know +The upland Path of Dreams that whitely winds +(Yclept or Way of Fools or Path of Hope) +Leads upward ever to the Hills of Song! + +Beside the silent stream whose soundless tide +Sets ever to the unknown tideless sea +They who have drunk of Slumber's poppied draught +Walk with unsandalled feet the path of dreams +That winds thro' gray, low-lying fields of sleep +To dim dream shores girt with dim spectre-trees, +Swayed ever by the sweep of unseen wings, +Slow-stirring palms and arabesques of ferns +And fields of sombre bloom and scentless flowers +Not of their wonted hue, but dimly gray, +Where songless birds like shades of shadows flit, +And silent winds from poppied meadows blow-- +And here dear presences to us denied +By sterner Day, approach to cry us hail; +And here a little do we taste the joy +Of kisses dreamed on lips forever mute, +A little know the bliss of Hope fulfilled, +And dreams that seem as true as very Truth ... +Yet well we know that with the stir of dawn, +Waking, we must return from Sleep's far fields! +Beside the Lethean stream whose soundless tide +Sets ever to the unknown tideless Sea +That breaks upon the farthest unknown shore-- +They who have quaffed dark Asrael's mystic draught +Walk with still feet the viewless Path of Dreams +That winds thro' long, low-lying fields of Sleep +To fields Elysian or Tartarian glooms; +And haply, longed-for presences denied +By sterner Life shall come to cry us hail,-- +Bright radiances from realms of light eterne, +Or shadows from the shades of awful Dis-- +But whether here we taste of Hope fulfilled, +Or find our dreams are but as drifted dust-- +From dark of Dis or realms of Light eterne, +Full well we know we shall return no more! + + + + +An Autumn Song + + +The dim sun slips adown the sky +That dies from gold to gray; +The homing birds that Southward fly +To my heart's hailing make reply, + Piping "Good-bye, good-bye!" + +Southward I turn my wistful eyes, +Southward, where all my treasure lies, +Whither the homing sparrow flies, + Piping, "Good-bye, good-bye!" + +The chill blast sweeps the steely sky +That glooms a sullen gray; +Soft summer winds that Southward fly +To my soul's sighing make reply + Breathing "Good-bye, good-bye!" + +Southward I turn my longing eyes, +Southward my yearning spirit hies, +Whither or bird or zephyr flies + Sighing "Good-bye, good-bye!" + + + + +Vain + + +Wreath of laurel and crown of bay + And the noisy trump of Fame, +Praise for the singer's deathless lay, + And a listening world's acclaim. + +But the singer sits with his grief alone + Where love lies cold and dead. +The plaudits fall on a heart of stone; + The Soul of the song has fled. + + + + +Sartor Resartus + + +Ah, God be merciful to him who sees +Thro' ermined pomp and pageantry of kings, +Thro' regal mien and beauty's witcheries +The poor, weak, shrivelled soul that crouches hid +Within the body's hold! Thrice-cursed is he +Whose soul sees souls of others face to face, +Who strips the outer man like vestments off +And views the naked heart in all its shame +And poverty; who still must rend the veil +Of motive, purpose, false humanity +And futile pretense! God! to walk this world +Doomed still to see what others fain would hide, +Reading men's thoughts as scholars read the page +Of some old language dead to all save them; +Seeing beneath the tender woman flesh, +The woman-grace, the pleading woman-eyes, +The grisly skeleton, the hollow ribs, +The eyeless sockets and the grinning jaw; +Reading for aye the sneer beneath the smile, +The lie that lurks behind the seeming truth; +To know that such, or haply worse, am I, +A living lie, false prophet to myself, +Clothed on with shimmering robes of fallacy +And vain deceit! Ah God, where is the truth? +Are all men false or lies the fault in me +Who, vulture-like, seize only on the taint, +And leave the pure? If haply thus it be +In pity take away the subtle sight +That pierces thought. Give back the old fond faith, +The young belief in all humanity; +Hide from my view the canker in the rose, +The taint in truth, the blight upon the bloom. + +Far better 'twere to drink the hemlock draught +And, happy, deem it nectar than to find +The drop of gall within the nectared cup. +Far better trust repaid with treachery +Than doubt confirmed! Ah, Thou all-seeing God +Who art the Truth, make me to see the truth; +Lift from my soul the shadow; in the room +Of doubt, send trust. Let me believe again; +Help me to see the highest in mankind! + + + + +Illumed + + +Like to a little child, whose straying feet, +Tracking the fox-fire's guiling glint and gleam, +Have wandered far afield by marsh and stream +While just before the wavering glimmers fleet +On and still on where sky and meadow meet, +Till, spent and fearful in the gathering gloom, +At last he sees the guiding light of home, +Where love awaits and mother-kisses sweet. +So was it mine through fens of doubt to stray +Pursuing still some fair ephemeron, +Or fleeting gleam, or shimmering fallacy, +Till through the deepening dusk a beacon shone +Set by the hand of Love to light the way +O Father, to implicit trust in Thee! + + + + +In the Play + + +In a painted "Forest of Arden," in the glare of the garish light, +In doublet and hose, be-powdered and rouged, you sigh to me night by night; +Attuned to the sway of your cadenced voice, as a harp to the wooing wind, +I thrill at the touch of your painted lips--for--"_I am your Rosalind!_" + +Could you know that my art in seeming was a dearer thing than art, +That the love-words spoken nightly spring straight from a loving heart; +Could you know that my soul speaks to you--aye soul and spirit and mind! +When I gaze deep into your eyes and breathe--"_And I am your Rosalind!_" + +To you 'tis a vain dissembling--a part of the work of the day, +And the words that your voice makes music, but the dull, dead lines of + the play. +Little you care for the woman you woo, save as a foil designed. +To prove your skill as a lover--yet--"_I am your Rosalind!_" + +I merge in the player, the woman! The actress good at her art +Must needs look well to each glance and tone, must needs play still + her part-- + +Tho' the woman's soul that must else be mute; aye soul and spirit and mind! +Cry to your soul in another's words--"_And I am your Rosalind!_" + + + + +To E. P. B. + + +Imperial as that famed Elizabeth + Before whose feet a knight his cloak cast down-- +A sovereign--altho' thine only crown + Love's roses 'twine for thee, Elizabeth. + +Ah, maiden sweeter than morn's nectared breath, + Across thy path no regal robe I fling-- +Only a living, loving heart I bring + To lay at thy dear feet, Elizabeth. + + + + +Through the Dark + + +Last night they laid me in my winding sheet, + Set burning tapers at my feet and head, +Decked me with wan white blossoms faint and sweet, + And told each other softly, "She is dead." + +Ay, dumb and dead! Enshrouded, cold and stark + I lay where waned the tawny tapers dim, +Pulseless and pale; yet thro' the dreadful dark + I lived in thoughts of _him_. + +The morning came. One who had loved me bent + Above my face with tears and bated breath; +Laid on my heart the roses _he_ had sent-- + And I--was glad of death! + + + + +Preluding + + +Frail fronds of ferns uncurling, +Blue iris flags unfurling, +Pale showers of blossoms swirling +Like clouds of wind-blown snow; +With fragile wildings playing, +Like two blithe children maying, +Across the glad meads straying, + Together, dear, we go. + +The silver clouds far-drifting, +Vague lights and shadows shifting, +The sungleams gold-dust sifting +Down thro' the latticed leaves; +Gray brooks the meadows lacing, +Young flow'rs the uplands gracing, +Her faery 'broidery tracing + The skillful spider weaves. + +From long, long day-dreams shaken, +The vivid violets waken; +His Southern haunts forsaken, +The bluebird flecks the sky; +Ah, breath of bloom-bright heather, +Ah, golden Maytime weather, +We drift in dreams together-- + Together, you and I. + + + + +The Heights of Silence + +(Transcribed from "The Choir Invisible.") + + +Above the valleys, peopled, fair and warm, + Rise the bleak, silent uplands where abide +Wraiths of lost loves, love's recompense denied, + Unspoken, unconfessed, unsatisfied.... +Cold, silent heights, engirt with zones of storm, + Where Love for aye unmated must abide. + +The broad, sweet downward vistas of the flesh + Stretch fair and far; the calm white spirit-height +Is lone and chill; there dimly shines the light + Of sun and star that burns and beacons bright +Where Sin spreads still her guiling, glitt'ring mesh. + Ah, warm the valley! Lone and chill the height! + +Yet he who wins the height's sublimity-- + The silent height where loves unlived abide, +Loves stainless, sublimated, purified-- + Shall glimpse that land, to grosser view denied, +Where love and longing infinite shall be + Or ever stilled--or ever satisfied. + + + + +Andromeda + + +Bound ever to a great grey rock of Doom, + Striving with futile hands to rive the chain +Of woven fear, distrust and subtle pain, + While gaunt wolf-waves that leap from out the gloom +Of doubt's cold sea are snarling at my feet, + As nearer writhes the dragon of Despair +Foul with dank horrors of his caverned lair, + And like a clock of doom the dark tides beat.... +I lift my eyes; Lo! sudden sweeps along + Thought's empyrean and the vast of dreams +One star-browed, Jove-like, human-orbed; meseems + His feet are winged with music, shod with song; +Ah, Perseus, should'st thou, pitying, leave the sky + To loose my bonds--then all the fear were gone, +Soul touching soul, trust from distrust were won, + Like god and goddess 'fronted, thou and I; +Despair were slain, closed the unequal strife, + Thy great soul's strength should make weak purpose strong, +Thy hand should lead me up the slopes of Song, + Thy winged feet guide me to the peaks of Life! + + + + +Requital + + +What tho' you loved me once? Man's love at best + Is but a mood--the fancy of an hour, +You held all faith and truth a theme for jest, + Love's recompense, a smile. You knew your power. + +What tho' you loved me then? You went away + And left my life an arid waste of pain; +And now--your best years spent, your idols clay-- + You stretch imploring arms to me again. + +What tho' you love me still? What tho' you say + The current of your life toward mine is set, +As vagrant stars obey the planets' sway, + Or perfume clingeth to the violet? + +What tho' I once loved you? See in yon West + Day's fires have burned to ashes cold and gray; +So in my quiet heart love's wild unrest + By its own flame consumed, is dead for aye. + + + + +When Fades the Light + + +When fades the light along the western sky, + When dies the last dim rose to subtlest gray, +When darkling mere and mead enshadowed lie, + And Night's wide arms enfold the wearied Day; +When tired lilies ring their vesper bells + And dusking leaves speak whispered orison, +When cassocked Twilight breathing benison + His rosary of flashing fireflies tells-- +Then ends the day-long struggle. Strong no more + I drift far out on Fancy's phantom sea, +Setting full sail for that forbidden shore + Where waiteth Love for me. + + * * * * * + +When fades the light from out my dying eyes, + And soul and sense seem slipping soft away, +When Death's swift shallop launched on Lethe lies + Waiting to wing me to the unknown Gray; +When things of time and thought grow strangely dim, + And the pent spirit strains to loose its bands +Till from the fettered feet and helpless hands + Shall fall life's shackles pitiless and grim-- +Then shall the conflict cease. Enchained no more + My soul shall sail the silent unknown sea +Until it touch the unforbidden shore + Where Love awaiteth me. + + + + +Butterflies + + +As if a bed of bloom had taken wing-- + Bright marigolds, nasturtiums, zinnias gay-- +They breast the breeze or, lightly poising, cling + To other flowers not animate as they. + + + + +In the Dark Forest + + +The long gray twilight falls and deeper glooms + Close round the graying wood that dimmer grows +As dies the Day's last yearning tint of rose, + And Dusk spins shadows on her eldritch looms. +The black bat flits, the eerie white moth flies-- + Wan ghost of yesterday's bright butterfly-- +The dusking forest pools uplooking lie + Like graveless dead men's staring, sightless eyes. + +Ah, eerie, eerie is the lonely wood, + But lo! the faeries light their firefly lamps, +Elusive foxfire flames from marish damps; + Hastes to the morris-dance an elfin brood; +A far bell chimes, the cricket cheerly shrills, + The droning beetle sounds his hoarse bassoon +And hylas trill; eftsoon the rising moon + The ambient air to molten silver thrills. + +Then all the lyric night is set to song! + The cuckoo calls, the plaining whippoorwill +Cries faint and far away; more distant still + The hoopoe, hid his marshy haunts among, +Wails with the cry of some lost soul in pain; + The nightingale engilds the pulsant dark +With golden-throated melody--but hark! + The night-jar's discord mars the perfect strain. + +The night wears on, black shadows throng apace, + The wood is still, the moon grows wan and old, +White marsh-mists wreathe like clammy arms, death-cold, + And moth-wings like dead fingers sweep my face; +The bittern wailing leaves the sombre pool, + Voicing the world-old pain that never dies; +The owl with ghoulish laughter outward flies + Like some weird Vivien shrieking, "Fool!" and "Fool!" + + + + +Insatiate + + +What though she lieth mute on yonder hill? + Though ivy green and shadowy eglatere + Have held in tender fold through many a year +Her quiet grave, I fear her--fear her still. + +He loved her once. Ay, though he hold me fast + And sear my lips with kisses burning-sweet, + No touch of mine can make his life replete +For man's first love is oftentimes his last. + +A still face glimmers through my dreams for aye. + E'en when I strain him close with feverish grasp + Wan grave-cold fingers loose the clinging clasp, +And grave-cold lips my fervid kisses stay. + +She lives incarnate in each flower fair, + Her eyes illume the violets in my hand, + The golden-rod that lights the Autumn land +Seems but the scattered star-dust of her hair. + +Love's perfect flower may never bloom for me-- + For me his wife. For ah! I fear her still + Who lies forever mute on yonder hill. +He loved her once. Would God that I were she! + + + + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes + +Table of Contents: Slight listing changes were made to match poem titles. + +Page 29: Added opening parenthesis: + (And I knew that tho' many a woman had loved you, + Till that moment, the glance of no woman had moved you!) + +Page 47: Added closing parenthesis: + (Thank God, he suffered so brief a while) + +Page 70: Corrected wathway to pathway: + And where the pathway breasts the hill, + +Page 79: Added a blank line after first stanza: + Piping "Good-bye, good-bye!" + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Path of Dreams, by Leigh Gordon Giltner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PATH OF DREAMS *** + +***** This file should be named 27024-8.txt or 27024-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/7/0/2/27024/ + +Produced by David Garcia, Diane Monico, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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