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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rose-Jar, by Thomas S. (Thomas Samuel)
+Jones
+
+
+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 Rose-Jar
+
+
+Author: Thomas S. (Thomas Samuel) Jones
+
+
+
+Release Date: January 4, 2009  [eBook #27700]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROSE-JAR***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Barbara Tozier, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+THE ROSE-JAR
+
+by
+
+THOMAS S. JONES, JR.
+
+Author of _The Path o' Dreams_, etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+Clinton, New York
+George William Browning
+
+Copyrighted 1906 by Thomas S. Jones, Jr.
+
+
+The author desires to thank the editors of Appleton's Magazine,
+Everybody's Magazine, Lippincott's Magazine, The New York Times, The
+Smart Set, and the other publications in which the verses in this
+collection originally appeared, for their kind permission to reprint.
+
+
+
+
+_This Edition of_ The Rose-Jar _Printed by George William Browning at
+Clinton New York during the Summer of 1906 consists of Three Hundred
+copies on Deckle-Edged Paper, with Twelve additional copies on
+Imperial Japan Vellum (Insetsu Kioku)._
+
+                             _NUMBER 258_
+
+                                [Illustration: Author's signature]
+
+
+
+
+To the Memory of My Mother
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  As in a Rose-Jar
+  The Island
+  You and I
+  A Ballade of Old Romance
+  A Voice from the Far Away
+  April
+  A Yesterday
+  Violets
+  A Song of Life
+  As a Still Brook
+  At the Window
+  A Sea Spell
+  The Silent Country
+  The Sport of a God
+  Remembrance
+  In Days of Old
+  We Once Built a House o' Dreams
+  A Song of the Way
+  In Trinity Church-Yard at Sunset
+  Where Cross-Roads Part
+  Saida
+  In Arcady
+  The Summer Rain
+  Impression
+  Derelicts
+  The End of the Day
+  Tristesse
+  Interlude
+  To You, Dear Heart
+  Twilight
+  The Poet
+  The Hunchback
+  The Little Ghosts
+  I Know a Quiet Vale
+  Song
+  Immutability
+  In the Fall o' Year
+  Love's Song
+  The Golden Hour
+  The Dream-Way
+  The Spirit of Autumn
+  On the Long Road
+  A Postlude
+  An Old Song
+  Old Roses
+
+
+
+
+_The Rose-Jar_
+
+
+
+
+As in a Rose-Jar
+
+
+  As in a rose-jar filled with petals sweet
+    Blown long ago in some old garden place,
+    Mayhap, where you and I, a little space,
+  Drank deep of love and knew that love was fleet--
+  Or leaves once gathered from a lost retreat
+    By one who never will again retrace
+    Her silent footsteps--one, whose gentle face
+  Was fairer than the roses at her feet;
+
+  So, deep within the vase of memory,
+    I keep my dust of roses fresh and dear
+      As in the days before I knew the smart
+  Of time and death. Nor aught can take from me
+    The haunting fragrance that still lingers here--
+      As in a rose-jar, so within my heart!
+
+
+
+
+The Island
+
+
+  There is an island in the silent sea,
+  Whose marge the wistful waves lap listlessly--
+  An isle of rest for those who used to be.
+
+  For ne'er an echo wakes that towering wall,
+  Whose blackened crags answer none other call
+  Save the lone ocean's rhythmic rise and fall.
+
+  Only the song the sea sings as she laves
+  That sleep-bound shore with sad caressing waves,
+  The while the dead sleep sweeter in their graves.
+
+  'Tis oh! so still they sleep within each tomb,
+  Cool in long shadows of the cypress gloom,
+  Breathing in death the moon-flower's rank perfume.
+
+  They know not when slow barges on the mere
+  Enter the portals of that place austere--
+  Enter and so forever disappear!
+
+  And in this island of a silent sea,
+  Whose marge e'er wistful waves lap listlessly,
+  Is rest,--is peace for all eternity.
+
+
+
+
+You and I
+
+
+  Over the hills where the pine-trees grow,
+    With a laugh to answer the wind at play.
+  Why do I laugh? I do not know,
+    But you and I once passed this way.
+
+  Down in the hollow now white with snow
+    My heart is singing a song today.
+  Why do I sing? I do not know,
+    But you and I were here in May.
+
+
+
+
+A Ballade of Old Romance
+
+
+  When April spreads her mantle green
+    Across the pasture-lands of snow,
+  And Spring's first scarlet breasts are seen
+    Where treetops rustle to and fro;
+    Then come fair fragrant dreams as though
+  Our lightest fancy to entrance
+    And paint us what we fain would know
+  Adown the lanes of Old Romance.
+
+  Anon, we see the golden sheen
+    Of burnished mail the sunbeams throw,
+  Flashing the poplars tall between,
+    As knights ride by to meet the foe;
+    Or, mayhap, shepherd lads who blow
+  On slender pipes, a pastoral dance--
+    Ah, strong were they in weal and woe
+  Adown the lanes of Old Romance!
+
+  But now the vast years intervene,
+    The fountain long has ceased its flow,
+  And silence rules the lone demesne
+    That once held such a goodly show;
+    Yet time, at least, does this bestow
+  Nor leave the best to fleeting chance--
+    They live again in fancy's glow
+  Adown the lanes of Old Romance.
+
+
+                ENVOY
+
+  Sweet, still for us some blossoms grow
+    From out that dim and dear expanse--
+  Come, take my hand and we shall go
+    Adown the lanes of Old Romance!
+
+
+
+
+A Voice From the Far Away
+
+
+  I heard a voice from the far away
+    Softly say this to me--
+  "You will find the heart of the world some day
+    And the why of the things that be;
+  You will see the grief of the yea and nay
+    And the price of frailty.
+
+  "And upon your lute you will weave a theme
+    Which the world will harken and know;
+  For every note of the song will teem
+    With a great soul's overflow--
+  You will speak the meaning within a dream
+    And the pain in the afterglow.
+
+  "But for all of this there's a price--
+    'Tis the price of minstrelsy--
+  You will never have of the things you play,
+    Sad singer of poetry,
+  And throughout your life you will go for aye,
+    Heart-hungry and silently!"
+  I heard a voice from the far away
+    Softly say this to me.
+
+
+
+
+April
+
+
+  Throughout the vale again Narcissus cries
+    And Echo answers from her dark retreat,
+    While Zephyr heavy-laden with the sweet,
+  Fresh scent of blooms across the pasture hies;
+  Above, the blueness of the April skies,
+    Matched by the lure unto the wandering feet
+    That e'er must go ere Spring could be complete
+  To the green wood where laughing Eros lies.
+
+  O April lover, hear the pipes that call,
+    The pipes of Pan a-blowing lustily,
+      They call to you and me, and he who hears
+  Must ever after be Young April's thrall--
+    So, faring thus together, we shall see
+      The Islands of the Blest between the Spheres!
+
+
+
+
+A Yesterday
+
+
+  I held you in my arms--so happy I,
+  Who quite forgot the while that moments fly;
+  Nor ever dreamed that they could pass away,
+      Till it was yesterday.
+
+  Yet, just because that hour was long ago
+  And seems to me so near--well, this I know
+  That sometime I shall clasp your hand and say:
+      Was there a yesterday?
+
+
+
+
+Violets
+
+
+  'Twas just at sundown, when the leaves were wet
+              With evening dew,
+  Far in the fields where sky and violet
+              Blend rifts of blue--
+
+  But for a moment, deep among the flowers
+              And rain-sweet grass,
+  I saw her--loved her--and as April showers
+              Beheld her pass.
+
+  O, the lone vastness of the afterglow,
+              Unknown before;
+  Shall e'er I see that face where violets grow,
+              Perchance, once more!
+
+  Yet no one comes save night, with wild regrets
+              And silent pain--
+  Only sometimes the scent of violets
+              On wind-blown rain.
+
+
+
+
+A Song of Life
+
+
+        _What if the song is sung, I say,
+        As long as the song was sung!_
+
+  Did we not meet with the blood's best play
+  The lash of the winds and the rain that stung,
+  And the tang of the salty spray?
+
+  Did we not drink the last drop that clung
+  To the golden bowl with its glowing fire,
+  Yet so cool to our burning tongue?
+
+  Did we not love with a love entire
+  That made up for all and a world of clay
+  In a moment of wild desire?
+
+        _What if the song is sung, I say,
+        As long as the song was sung!_
+
+
+
+
+As a Still Brook
+
+
+  As a still brook within the woodland's green
+    Sings softly to itself the live-long day,
+    Unconscious of its gentle roundelay,
+  Its open purity and silver sheen--
+  Knowing not how in all that wild demesne,
+    Its music is a strain the angels play
+    And its fair face a jewel amid the gray,
+  Beshadowed places that it flows between;
+
+  So your dear love, a simple forest stream,
+    Bearing the wealth of all that life can hold,--
+      Nor ever dreaming of the worth that lies
+  Deep in your heart--why, you have made it seem
+    That every empty hour is wrought of gold
+      And this tear-sodden world, a Paradise!
+
+
+
+
+At the Window
+
+
+  I looked out of my window tall
+    And laughed to see the May,
+  For everything both great and small
+    Was on a holiday.
+
+  Then Love came by and laughed at me,
+    And I forgot the Spring--
+  Only I knew the ecstasy
+    Of madly listening.
+
+  And now the branches all again
+    Are red with vernal May,
+  But tears have dimmed the window-pane--
+    And no one comes my way.
+
+
+
+
+A Sea Spell
+
+
+  The sunset sea--a goblet thick inlaid
+    With jewels wrought in golden filigree,
+    An opal from some elfin treasury
+  Burning with fire and flashing every shade;
+  While round the dim horizon, wide displayed
+    The clouds pile up their largess tenderly
+    As if to clothe the beauty of the sea
+  In filmy gossamer and soft brocade.
+
+  And far away I think I almost hear
+    A horn's faint echo through the dusk-hour's veil
+      As in the happy, golden days of yore--
+  Mayhap, e'en now upon this magic mere
+    Frail shallops will flit by and mermaids pale
+      Will lure us back to fairy-land once more!
+
+
+
+
+The Silent Country
+
+
+  Wave, wave sweet blooms of May and on your wings
+  Bear me away with drowsy winnowings
+  To some far twilight land where steals a stream
+  From out the cool and soundless groves of Dream.
+
+  For in the Spring is such a bitter smart
+  Even the thought of it will break my heart,
+  So take me softly to a leafy bed
+  Where I shall dream and dream you are not dead!
+
+
+
+
+The Sport of a God
+
+
+  Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow--
+    At the lover's vow that must break some day--
+    Still we smiled as we loved in a distant May
+  When the blooms were heavy upon the bough.
+
+  O, the mocking difference of then and now!
+    It isn't a thought that will make one gay,
+  Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow--
+    At the lover's vow that must break some day.
+
+  Yet, perhaps, the god knows the best way how
+    To carry a mask when the feet are clay;
+    So I too shall laugh at the merry play,
+  For down in his heart there's a knife, I trow,
+  Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow.
+
+
+
+
+Remembrance
+
+
+  Sweet rosemary within the lane
+    The while the day is warm and clear,
+  And ne'er a thought of bitter rain
+    Or the road-side sere.
+
+  But there are flowers more dear to me
+    That time can never set apart--
+  The fragrant blooms of memory
+    That grow within the heart.
+
+
+
+
+In Days of Old
+
+
+  Of all the ages' gain, the ages' loss,
+    A wealth of wonders and so much away--
+    When now hears one the woodland elves at play,
+  Or angry dryads where tall tree-tops toss.
+  No more they lightly tread the dewy moss
+    As danced they through cool haunts in ecstasy;
+    But rank and lost the paths in lone decay
+  Where fairy footsteps once were wont to cross.
+
+  O, happy Greeks, who knew the gods so well,
+    To you I burn my sacrificial fire!
+      Again reveal the mystic hidden rune
+  Whereby to find the slopes of asphodel--
+    Ah, then to hear Apollo charm his lyre
+      And see Diana 'neath the sickle moon.
+
+
+
+
+We Once Built a House o' Dreams
+
+
+  We once built a house o' dreams
+    At the break o' day
+  Made from out the first gold beams
+    On the sward astray.
+
+  Little did we think or care
+    'Twas not safe nor strong;
+  We were very happy there
+    And the day was long.
+
+  Now we leave our house o' dreams,
+    Why, we do not know;
+  Only this--so strange it seems
+    And so hard to go!
+
+
+
+
+A Song of the Way
+
+
+  Give me the road, the great broad road,
+    That wanders over the hill;
+  Give me a heart without a care
+    And a free, unfettered will--
+  Ah, thus to journey, thus to fare,
+    With only the skies to frown,
+  And happy I, if the ways but lie
+    Away, away from the town.
+
+  Give me the path, the wild-wood path
+    That wanders deep in a dell,
+  Where silence sleeps and sunbeams fain
+    Would waken the slumber spell--
+  For there the gods find the world again,
+    Immortals of ancient lore,
+  And time is gone, and a mad-glad faun
+    Knows the glades of Greece once more.
+
+
+
+
+In Trinity Church-Yard at Sunset
+
+
+  How still they sleep within the city moil
+    In their old church-yard with its sighing trees,
+    Where sometimes through the din a twilight breeze
+  Makes one forget the busy streets of toil;
+  But they have little thought of worldly spoil
+    Or the great gain of mortal victories,
+    Their hopes, their dreams, are cold and dead as these
+  Quaint, time-worn gravestones crumbling on the soil.
+
+  Yet they once lived and struggled years ago;
+    Their hearts beat madly as these hearts of ours--
+      And now is all undone in dreamless rest?
+  See, a great city stands against the glow--
+    Their city, they who here beneath the flowers
+      Have known so long God's gift of peace, most blest!
+
+
+
+
+Where Cross-Roads Part
+
+
+  Glad roads of Spring--O lanes of laughing May
+  As fleeting as the shadow-clouds at play
+    With sunbeams rife upon the grassy green;
+    O golden lanes--through roads that lie between
+  Amid what darkened sweep lost I the way?
+
+  Or was't the stripling Youth, whose roundelay
+  Awoke the echoes of the throbbing day
+    And changed to gladness all the world's dull mien,
+                Glad roads of Spring?
+
+  Apart I stand, distraught with lone dismay,
+  No more Youth's gladsome biddings to obey,
+    No more with him Love's strewings lost to glean;
+    The hills of years now ever intervene,
+  And bid me say good-bye to you for aye,
+                Glad roads of Spring!
+
+
+
+
+Saida
+
+
+  We passed along the high-road, you and I,
+    Though I remember not the place nor when;
+  Only the wonder of your face, and then
+              That you passed by.
+
+  But that was long ago, and I forget;
+    Perhaps 'twere better that I went alone,
+  You might not e'er have loved me had you known,
+              And yet, and yet--
+
+
+
+
+In Arcady
+
+
+  Although 'tis but a memory,
+  Still in the days of long ago
+  We tended sheep in Arcady.
+
+  Then were we both of fancy free
+  And laughing Youth had much to show,
+  Although 'tis but a memory.
+
+  Again the pasture lands we see
+  Where in the golden summer glow
+  We tended sheep in Arcady.
+
+  And hear the tender harmony
+  Of shepherd pipes that softly blow,
+  Although 'tis but a memory.
+
+  Nor thought of any end had we
+  As through the grasses to and fro
+  We tended sheep in Arcady.
+
+  So, what if life now empty be,
+  Of all the past this do we know,
+  Although 'tis but a memory,
+  We tended sheep in Arcady!
+
+
+
+
+The Summer Rain
+
+
+  As one who listens to the summer rain
+    Against the roof when all the night is still,
+    Save for the wind beneath the window-sill,
+  Crooning its homely, comforting refrain,--
+  And listening feels that neither joy nor pain
+    Can trouble now--only the faint sweet thrill
+    Of drowsiness and peace and rest until
+  The barque glides softly into sleep's domain;
+
+  So I, whose empty way leads wandering
+    Between high garden-walls that hide the sun,
+      Hear sometimes on the breeze a simple strain
+  Of an old song you once were wont to sing--
+    And then forgetting all, I seem as one
+      Who listens spell-bound to the summer rain.
+
+
+
+
+Impression
+
+
+  A little stone o'ercrept with moss,
+    And red wild roses flaunting by,
+    A wistful breeze that seems to sigh
+  Where the tall grasses toss.
+
+  To sigh for one who went away,
+    Thus it is writ upon the stone--
+    Nothing can ever make atone
+  And tears shall fall for aye.
+
+  Oh, irony of human vow,
+    Even the stone is crumbling too,
+    And tears,--none save the evening dew,
+  For who remembers now?
+
+
+
+
+Derelicts
+
+
+  A year, a year, and then to miss
+  That which was all in all for aye;
+  O Love as fleeting as your kiss,
+  O Love forever and a day,
+          To this.
+
+  How such a change in one short year,
+  I cannot, cannot understand;
+  Oh, why to cast upon Love's bier,
+  Whose name was written in the sand,
+          This tear?
+
+  Why, when the fields were red with May
+  When you and I together swore;
+  Is May so very far away,
+  Was all so different then, before
+          Today?
+
+  And did the gods above then smile
+  When we believed that love would last,
+  Counting its heart-beats on the dial
+  Of hours that have too soon slipped past,
+          The while.
+
+  Two boats upon a sea of glass--
+  A little strength, a little trust;
+  Yet let the hand of Fate but pass,
+  Could they withstand the storm-cloud's gust,
+          Alas!
+
+  So, though not knowing, yet must I
+  Forget one day and feel no more
+  Your love, which dreamed not e'er to die.
+  Thank God for that--I close my door.
+          Good-bye.
+
+
+
+
+The End of the Day
+
+
+  The day is done and every hour is spent
+    And now it lies a-dying in the west,
+    Yet with what wonder those last moments blest
+  Crown all with the chaste kiss of sweet content;
+  For nature's minstrels sing a carol pent
+    With the soft music of the spheres suppressed
+    In one great strain--the while upon night's breast
+  The dying day sinks down in languishment.
+
+  And in those last faint breaths as 'twere in sooth
+    The halo of some saint, a glowing light
+      Of purest gold streams through the darkened sky,
+  A light more wondrous than the dawn of youth--
+    For 'tis a flame cleft out the veil of night
+      From that eternal dawn that ne'er can die!
+
+
+
+
+Tristesse
+
+
+  If you were not away
+  These trees, this south-wind and this dreary day
+  Would all be mad with joyous ecstasy;
+  But you are gone, so mourning they with me
+  Find bitter-sweet in idle fantasy.
+  How glad, how mad, how gay,
+  If you were not away!
+
+
+
+
+Interlude
+
+
+  Sometimes from out the rush of pulsing days,
+    These days whose poetry was lost in prose
+    So long ago, left desolate on those
+  Far childhood paths--yet, sometimes from the haze
+  Of half-forgotten years, fall on our ways
+    Now drear, a strain of song, a June-blown rose.
+    Ah, sweet, so sweet unto a heart that knows
+  The memory of once-remembered Mays!
+
+  Only a moment's interlude, and yet
+    How the heart quaffs the draught that thrills and thrills
+      Its soul, finding again youth's mysteries.
+  What matter if tomorrow we forget--
+    Today the stillness of the sun-lit hills
+      And the low drowsy hum of summer bees!
+
+
+
+
+To You, Dear Heart
+
+
+  To you, dear heart, whom I have never known
+    I sing my little songs all wonderingly
+  That sometime you may hear,--the sweet atone
+  For all the years and years of search alone--
+    That sometime you may hear and come to me.
+
+  So on I go a-singing down my way
+    With ne'er a thought of all the journey past,
+  For this I know--that on one perfect day
+  When everything is, oh, so glad and gay,
+    You'll hear and come and claim your own, at last.
+
+
+
+
+Twilight
+
+
+  When twilight falls and all the land is still,
+  The purple shadows steal across the hill,
+    And one lone star above a pine-tree's crest
+    Shines ever brighter, while from out its nest
+  There breaks the low cry of the whip-poor-will.
+
+  And softly grows the ladened hush until
+  E'en winds list o'er the fields of daffodil
+    They all day wafted,--'tis so sweet to rest
+            When twilight falls.
+
+  Let not one drop of this rare nectar spill,
+  But with the beryl wine your goblet fill.
+    Drink with me, Love, the golden of the west,
+    For all is made for love and love is best,--
+  And, oh, the wonder of the moment's thrill
+            When twilight falls!
+
+
+
+
+The Poet
+
+
+  For one great Queen who sits in majesty,
+    Untouched, austere, upon a golden throne,
+    The like whose loveliness was never known
+  Of ebony and rose and ivory,--
+  For her you weave a broidered tapestry,
+    Rife with rich stains of every color-tone
+    Inwrought; while she immovable as stone
+  But watches pitiless and silently.
+
+  Yet, should this Queen of Beauty lift her arm
+    And take your broidered web,--ah, then the prize,
+      The vast reward of all the scars and shame,
+  For in the moment as a mystic charm
+    The cloth is changed to porphyry, and lies
+      Forever on her breast a frozen flame!
+
+
+
+
+The Hunchback
+
+
+  He never knew the golden thrall of youth,
+    The ringing step, the rumpled wind-tossed hair,
+  The reckless laugh untouched of pain or ruth,--
+    Youth without pity and without a care.
+
+  Not his the swift lithe strength that ever slays,
+    And in its joyous slaying doubly sweet,
+  Like some young god adown immortal ways,
+    Crushing the blossoms 'neath unheeding feet.
+
+  A twisted back, a face year-scarred and grim,
+    A very mockery to love's caress,
+  These were the only birthright given him,--
+    What should he know, except of ugliness?
+
+  But in his fettered heart in longing pent
+    A wealth of tenderness and, stranger too,
+  Youth full of pity,--ah, the wonderment,--
+    He never knew, and yet how well he knew!
+
+
+
+
+The Little Ghosts
+
+
+  Where are they gone, and do you know
+    If they come back at fall o' dew,
+  The little ghosts of long ago,
+    That long ago were you?
+
+  And all the songs that ne'er were sung,
+    And all the dreams that ne'er came true,
+  Like little children dying young,--
+    Do they come back to you?
+
+
+
+
+I Know a Quiet Vale
+
+
+  I know a quiet vale where faint winds blow
+    The silver poplar branches all awry,
+    And ne'er another sound comes drifting by
+  Save where the stream's cool waters softly flow;
+  Wild roses riot there and violets throw
+    Their perfume recklessly, the while on high
+    Great snowy clouds pillow the smiling sky
+  And cast frail shadows on the grass below.
+
+  All is the same, the summer stillness dreams
+    In idleness across the sunny leas,
+  Until for very drowsiness it seems
+    The wind has gone to sleep within the trees--
+  Yet we once laughed at what the years might bring,
+  And now I am alone, remembering.
+
+
+
+
+Song
+
+
+  Blurred is the moon in a yellow stain,
+    And the clouds are flying before the wind,
+  The leaves fall fast in a ghostly rain,--
+      Summer is left behind.
+
+  And left behind the long nights of June,
+    When the lights were soft in the waters' shine--
+    Softer your lips when they first met mine--
+      Blurred is the Autumn moon.
+
+  _Blurred is the moon in a yellow stain,
+  And oh, for the warmth of your arms again!_
+
+
+
+
+Immutability
+
+
+  Within your hands you hold the wealth of years,
+    Old Time,--yes, all the gold of yesterday,
+    All of love's sunshine and the bitter gray
+  Of tears--oh, the great multitude of tears;
+  For everything is yours within the spheres
+    To give or take, or break, or keep for aye,
+    Nor heed you e'en one wild cry of dismay,
+  But gather on until all disappears.
+
+  Yet love is sweet and we are not so old,
+    Nor did the gods mean us to separate.
+      O Time you cannot take my love from me,
+  Life has so much, so very much to hold
+    For each,--I must not dream it is too late
+      And that we'll dwell no more in Arcady.
+
+
+
+
+In the Fall o' Year
+
+
+  I went back an old-time lane
+    In the fall o' year,
+  There was wind and bitter rain
+    And the leaves were sere.
+
+  Once the birds were lilting high
+    In a far-off May--
+  I remember, you and I
+    Were as glad as they.
+
+  But the branches now are bare
+    And the lad you knew,
+  Long ago was buried there--
+    Long ago with you!
+
+
+
+
+Love's Song
+
+
+    If I had never known
+  How far would I have wandered wistfully alone,
+  Hearing no echo of that wondrous song
+    Whose music lingers long.
+
+    Beside whose sweetness pale
+  Even the soft notes of the nightingale,
+  Whose theme is wrought of laughter and of tears
+    From all the deathless years.
+
+    Ah, better thus by far
+  To once have felt the barriers unbar,
+  And known the moment in a rapt surprise
+    The song of Paradise!
+
+
+
+
+The Golden Hour
+
+
+  The winds may blow, the sleet may dash the pane
+    And all our lonely road be clothed in gray,
+    Yet what care we how dark may be the way,
+  Or whether e'er we see the sun again;
+  On shall we journey through the stinging rain,
+    Our glad hearts beating to a roundelay
+    Learned long ago in one great, joyous day,
+  When we first knew we had not lived in vain.
+
+  We two have lived, we drank the ruddy wine
+    And felt the wonder of its burning kiss--
+      Let come what may there is no earthly power
+  Can take away that rapture, yours and mine.
+    Others may weep, who would give all for this,
+      To find what we have found--the golden hour!
+
+
+
+
+The Dream-Way
+
+
+  It did not look so far, and yet, and yet,
+  The moments were so easy to forget,
+  For now without your hand to guide, it seems
+  I seek in vain to find a way of dreams.
+
+  A moon-lit path between aspiring trees,
+  'Neath wind-blown leaves rustling in harmonies,
+  A little song that I may never sing--
+  But oh, the wondrous memory lingering.
+
+  And though I never may return until
+  I clasp your hand beyond these years, why still
+  There is one guide the path of life along--
+  A fleeting end of dream-remembered song.
+
+
+
+
+The Spirit of Autumn
+
+
+  Where the winds low list and the leafless trees
+    Stand gaunt and gray 'gainst the sullen sky,
+  The naked boughs whisper melodies
+    Of Summer spent and of Spring gone by--
+  Of days once glad that are gone forever,
+  Of lips once true that will answer never,
+  Of life and love that are but as these
+    Dead leaves of Autumn grown withered and dry.
+
+  But a spirit haunts in the moon's pale glow
+    And all is changed as she sings a strain,
+  While the night winds hearken and lightly blow
+    Her loose-bound hair in a raven-rain--
+  And bear her song to the distant closes,
+  Where many a longing heart reposes,
+  Waking old love-dreams that overflow
+    In a rapturous joy and wistful pain.
+
+  Ah, that song 'tis sweet as the pipes of Pan,
+    Or faint lutes sounding in Arcady
+  Through the purple dawn,--yea, far sweeter than
+    The music that wafts from a Southern sea!
+  Beneath its spell the wastes bloom in flowers,
+  And back again come the vanished hours,
+  For she who sings to the soul of man
+    Is the Autumn spirit of memory.
+
+
+
+
+On The Long Road
+
+
+  Ah, many were they then of yesterday,
+    Who bore me gifts of attar and of myrrh,
+    And leaves of roses delicate that were
+  Sprung from a garden-close in far Cathay;
+  While I, unheeding, let them pass their way
+    Nor cared for all the gifts they might confer,
+    Watching in vain for one dear loiterer,
+  Who never dreamed adown my path to stray.
+
+  And now out in the lonely road I stand,
+    Where echoes drearily the ceaseless tread
+      Of stranger footsteps, slow and burdensome--
+  I am forgot and empty is each hand,
+    Save for the dust of roses witherèd,
+      Yet still I wait for you who never come.
+
+
+
+
+A Postlude
+
+
+  If only in your life to live, might I
+    Perchance those broken chords with my own meet,
+  Though quite imperfect, yet but thus to try
+              Were oh, so wondrous sweet.
+
+  Not the broad high-roads which you would have trod,
+    A lonely wanderer these may not essay,
+  Still, spirit mine, the by-paths that I plod
+              Do lead the selfsame way.
+
+  And if a little part I should fulfil
+    Of those fair deeds which you hoped to pursue--
+  Oh, how content to walk the miles until
+              I reach my home and you.
+
+
+
+
+An Old Song
+
+
+  Low blowing winds from out a midnight sky,
+    The falling embers and a kettle's croon--
+  These three, but oh what sweeter lullaby
+    Ever awoke beneath the winter's moon.
+
+  We know of none the sweeter, you and I,
+    And oft we've heard together that old tune--
+  Low blowing winds from out a midnight sky,
+    The falling embers and a kettle's croon.
+
+
+
+
+Old Roses
+
+
+    Spirit of old-time roses, when the glow
+      Of eventide steals softly through the trees
+      Like rosy petals falling, and the breeze
+    Grows hushed until it sings a love-song, low
+    And sweet and tender, then I seem to know
+      You too are somewhere near and watching these
+      Last wondrous sights of day--God's mysteries
+    We used to watch together long ago.
+
+    And, like a benediction, happiness
+      Fills all my soul, as if a wandering breath
+        From that high heaven had wafted down to me--
+    As if I felt again your dear caress
+      And knew you to be waiting e'er in death,
+        Crowned with the roses of eternity.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROSE-JAR***
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+<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rose-Jar, by Thomas S. (Thomas Samuel) Jones</title>
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+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rose-Jar, by Thomas S. (Thomas Samuel)
+Jones</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: The Rose-Jar</p>
+<p>Author: Thomas S. (Thomas Samuel) Jones</p>
+<p>Release Date: January 4, 2009  [eBook #27700]</p>
+<p>Language: English</p>
+<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p>
+<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROSE-JAR***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<!-- Transcriber's Note: There are 2 places for illustrations, starting with "[Illustration" I did not have decent versions to put with this file, but if someone one day finds them, the places are marked. -->
+<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Barbara Tozier,<br />
+    and the<br />
+    Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div id="title_page" class="page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page1" title="1">&nbsp;</a>
+	<h1 id="book-title">The Rose-Jar</h1>
+
+	<p id="author">Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</p>
+
+	<p>Author of <cite>The Path o’ Dreams</cite>, etc.</p>
+
+	<div class="illo">
+		<!-- [Illustration] -->
+	</div>
+    <p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+	<p id="pub-location">Clinton, New York</p>
+
+	<p id="publisher">GEORGE WILLIAM BROWNING</p>
+</div>
+
+<div id="copyright_page" class="page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page2" title="2"> </a>
+	<p class="cen" id="rights_statement">Copyrighted 1906 by Thomas S. Jones, Jr.</p>
+
+	<p>The author desires to thank the editors of Appleton’s
+	Magazine, Everybody’s Magazine, Lippincott’s Magazine,
+	The New York Times, The Smart Set, and
+	the other publications in which the verses in this collection
+	originally appeared, for their kind permission
+	to reprint.</p>
+</div>
+
+<div id="edition" class="page">
+	<p><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page3" title="3">&nbsp;</a>This Edition of <cite>The Rose-Jar</cite> Printed by
+	George William Browning at Clinton New
+	York during the Summer of 1906 consists
+	of Three Hundred copies on Deckle-Edged
+	Paper, with Twelve additional copies on
+	Imperial Japan Vellum (Insetsu Kioku).</p>
+
+
+	<p class="cen">NUMBER 258</p>
+
+	<div class="illo">
+		<!-- [Illustration: HW: Thomas S. Jones] -->
+	</div>
+
+</div>
+
+<!-- <a class="pagenum disguise" id="page4" title="4">&nbsp;</a>[Blank Page] -->
+
+<p id="dedication" class="page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page5" title="5">&nbsp;</a>To the Memory of My Mother</p>
+
+<!-- <a class="pagenum disguise" id="page6" title="6">&nbsp;</a>[Blank Page] -->
+
+<div id="contents">
+<h2 class="title"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page7" title="7">&nbsp;</a>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<ol>
+	<li><a href="#poem-01">As in a Rose-Jar</a> <a href="#page11" class="toc_page">11</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-02">The Island</a> <a href="#page12" class="toc_page">12</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-03">You and I</a> <a href="#page13" class="toc_page">13</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-04">A Ballade of Old Romance</a> <a href="#page14" class="toc_page">14</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-05">A Voice from the Far Away</a> <a href="#page16" class="toc_page">16</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-06">April</a> <a href="#page17" class="toc_page">17</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-07">A Yesterday</a> <a href="#page18" class="toc_page">18</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-08">Violets</a> <a href="#page19" class="toc_page">19</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-09">A Song of Life</a> <a href="#page20" class="toc_page">20</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-10">As a Still Brook</a> <a href="#page21" class="toc_page">21</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-11">At the Window</a> <a href="#page22" class="toc_page">22</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-12">A Sea Spell</a> <a href="#page23" class="toc_page">23</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-13">The Silent Country</a> <a href="#page24" class="toc_page">24</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-14">The Sport of a God</a> <a href="#page25" class="toc_page">25</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-15">Remembrance</a> <a href="#page26" class="toc_page">26</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-16">In Days of Old</a> <a href="#page27" class="toc_page">27</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-17">We Once Built a House o&#8217; Dreams</a> <a href="#page28" class="toc_page">28</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-18">A Song of the Way</a> <a href="#page29" class="toc_page">29</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-19">In Trinity Church-Yard at Sunset</a> <a href="#page30" class="toc_page">30</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-20">Where Cross-Roads Part</a> <a href="#page31" class="toc_page">31</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-21">Saida</a> <a href="#page32" class="toc_page">32</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-22">In Arcady</a> <a href="#page33" class="toc_page">33</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-23">The Summer Rain</a> <a href="#page34" class="toc_page">34</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-24">Impression</a> <a href="#page35" class="toc_page">35</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-25">Derelicts</a> <a href="#page36" class="toc_page">36</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-26">The End of the Day</a> <a href="#page38" class="toc_page">38</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-27">Tristesse</a> <a href="#page39" class="toc_page">39</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-28">Interlude</a> <a href="#page40" class="toc_page">40</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-29">To You, Dear Heart</a> <a href="#page41" class="toc_page">41</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-30">Twilight</a> <a href="#page42" class="toc_page">42</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-31">The Poet</a> <a href="#page43" class="toc_page">43</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-32">The Hunchback</a> <a href="#page44" class="toc_page">44</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-33">The Little Ghosts</a> <a href="#page45" class="toc_page">45</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-34">I Know a Quiet Vale</a> <a href="#page46" class="toc_page">46</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-35">Song</a> <a href="#page47" class="toc_page">47</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-36">Immutability</a> <a href="#page48" class="toc_page">48</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-37">In the Fall o&#8217; Year</a> <a href="#page49" class="toc_page">49</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-38">Love&#8217;s Song</a> <a href="#page50" class="toc_page">50</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-39">The Golden Hour</a> <a href="#page51" class="toc_page">51</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-40">The Dream-Way</a> <a href="#page52" class="toc_page">52</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-41">The Spirit of Autumn</a> <a href="#page53" class="toc_page">53</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-42">On the Long Road</a> <a href="#page54" class="toc_page">54</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-43">A Postlude</a> <a href="#page55" class="toc_page">55</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-44">An Old Song</a> <a href="#page56" class="toc_page">56</a></li>
+	<li><a href="#poem-45">Old Roses</a> <a href="#page57" class="toc_page">57</a></li>
+</ol>
+</div>
+
+<!-- <a class="pagenum disguise" id="page8" title="8">&nbsp;</a>[Blank Page] -->
+
+<p id="half-title" class="page"><a class="pagenum disguise" id="page9" title="9">&nbsp;</a>The Rose-Jar</p>
+
+<!-- <a class="pagenum disguise" id="page10" title="10">&nbsp;</a>[Blank Page] -->
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-01"><a class="pagenum" id="page11" title="11">&nbsp;</a>As in a Rose-Jar</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>As in a rose-jar filled with petals sweet</p>
+		<p class="i2">Blown long ago in some old garden place,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Mayhap, where you and I, a little space,</p>
+		<p>Drank deep of love and knew that love was fleet—</p>
+		<p>Or leaves once gathered from a lost retreat</p>
+		<p class="i2">By one who never will again retrace</p>
+		<p class="i2">Her silent footsteps—one, whose gentle face</p>
+		<p>Was fairer than the roses at her feet;</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>So, deep within the vase of memory,</p>
+		<p class="i2">I keep my dust of roses fresh and dear</p>
+		<p class="i4">As in the days before I knew the smart</p>
+		<p>Of time and death. Nor aught can take from me</p>
+		<p class="i2">The haunting fragrance that still lingers here—</p>
+		<p class="i4">As in a rose-jar, so within my heart!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-02"><a class="pagenum" id="page12" title="12">&nbsp;</a>The Island</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>There is an island in the silent sea,</p>
+		<p>Whose marge the wistful waves lap listlessly—</p>
+		<p>An isle of rest for those who used to be.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>For ne’er an echo wakes that towering wall,</p>
+		<p>Whose blackened crags answer none other call</p>
+		<p>Save the lone ocean’s rhythmic rise and fall.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Only the song the sea sings as she laves</p>
+		<p>That sleep-bound shore with sad caressing waves,</p>
+		<p>The while the dead sleep sweeter in their graves.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>’Tis oh! so still they sleep within each tomb,</p>
+		<p>Cool in long shadows of the cypress gloom,</p>
+		<p>Breathing in death the moon-flower’s rank perfume.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>They know not when slow barges on the mere</p>
+		<p>Enter the portals of that place austere—</p>
+		<p>Enter and so forever disappear!</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And in this island of a silent sea,</p>
+		<p>Whose marge e’er wistful waves lap listlessly,</p>
+		<p>Is rest,—is peace for all eternity.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-03"><a class="pagenum" id="page13" title="13">&nbsp;</a>You and I</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Over the hills where the pine-trees grow,</p>
+		<p class="i2">With a laugh to answer the wind at play.</p>
+		<p>Why do I laugh? I do not know,</p>
+		<p class="i2">But you and I once passed this way.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Down in the hollow now white with snow</p>
+		<p class="i2">My heart is singing a song today.</p>
+		<p>Why do I sing? I do not know,</p>
+		<p class="i2">But you and I were here in May.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-04"><a class="pagenum" id="page14" title="14">&nbsp;</a>A Ballade of Old Romance</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>When April spreads her mantle green</p>
+		<p class="i2">Across the pasture-lands of snow,</p>
+		<p>And Spring’s first scarlet breasts are seen</p>
+		<p class="i2">Where treetops rustle to and fro;</p>
+		<p class="i2">Then come fair fragrant dreams as though</p>
+		<p>Our lightest fancy to entrance</p>
+		<p class="i2">And paint us what we fain would know</p>
+		<p>Adown the lanes of Old Romance.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Anon, we see the golden sheen</p>
+		<p class="i2">Of burnished mail the sunbeams throw,</p>
+		<p>Flashing the poplars tall between,</p>
+		<p class="i2">As knights ride by to meet the foe;</p>
+		<p class="i2">Or, mayhap, shepherd lads who blow</p>
+		<p>On slender pipes, a pastoral dance—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Ah, strong were they in weal and woe</p>
+		<p>Adown the lanes of Old Romance!</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p><a class="pagenum" id="page15" title="15"> </a>But now the vast years intervene,</p>
+		<p class="i2">The fountain long has ceased its flow,</p>
+		<p>And silence rules the lone demesne</p>
+		<p class="i2">That once held such a goodly show;</p>
+		<p class="i2">Yet time, at least, does this bestow</p>
+		<p>Nor leave the best to fleeting chance—</p>
+		<p class="i2">They live again in fancy’s glow</p>
+		<p>Adown the lanes of Old Romance.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<p class="cen">ENVOY</p>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Sweet, still for us some blossoms grow</p>
+		<p class="i2">From out that dim and dear expanse—</p>
+		<p>Come, take my hand and we shall go</p>
+		<p class="i2">Adown the lanes of Old Romance!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-05"><a class="pagenum" id="page16" title="16">&nbsp;</a>A Voice From the Far Away</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>I heard a voice from the far away</p>
+		<p class="i2">Softly say this to me—</p>
+		<p>“You will find the heart of the world some day</p>
+		<p class="i2">And the why of the things that be;</p>
+		<p>You will see the grief of the yea and nay</p>
+		<p class="i2">And the price of frailty.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>“And upon your lute you will weave a theme</p>
+		<p class="i2">Which the world will harken and know;</p>
+		<p>For every note of the song will teem</p>
+		<p class="i2">With a great soul’s overflow—</p>
+		<p>You will speak the meaning within a dream</p>
+		<p class="i2">And the pain in the afterglow.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>“But for all of this there’s a price—</p>
+		<p class="i2">’Tis the price of minstrelsy—</p>
+		<p>You will never have of the things you play,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Sad singer of poetry,</p>
+		<p>And throughout your life you will go for aye,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Heart-hungry and silently!�</p>
+		<p>I heard a voice from the far away</p>
+		<p class="i2">Softly say this to me.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-06"><a class="pagenum" id="page17" title="17">&nbsp;</a>April</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Throughout the vale again Narcissus cries</p>
+		<p class="i2">And Echo answers from her dark retreat,</p>
+		<p class="i2">While Zephyr heavy-laden with the sweet,</p>
+		<p>Fresh scent of blooms across the pasture hies;</p>
+		<p>Above, the blueness of the April skies,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Matched by the lure unto the wandering feet</p>
+		<p class="i2">That e’er must go ere Spring could be complete</p>
+		<p>To the green wood where laughing Eros lies.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>O April lover, hear the pipes that call,</p>
+		<p class="i2">The pipes of Pan a-blowing lustily,</p>
+		<p class="i4">They call to you and me, and he who hears</p>
+		<p>Must ever after be Young April’s thrall—</p>
+		<p class="i2">So, faring thus together, we shall see</p>
+		<p class="i4">The Islands of the Blest between the Spheres!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-07"><a class="pagenum" id="page18" title="18">&nbsp;</a>A Yesterday</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>I held you in my arms—so happy I,</p>
+		<p>Who quite forgot the while that moments fly;</p>
+		<p>Nor ever dreamed that they could pass away,</p>
+		<p class="i4">Till it was yesterday.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Yet, just because that hour was long ago</p>
+		<p>And seems to me so near—well, this I know</p>
+		<p>That sometime I shall clasp your hand and say:</p>
+		<p class="i4">Was there a yesterday?</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-08"><a class="pagenum" id="page19" title="19">&nbsp;</a>Violets</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>’Twas just at sundown, when the leaves were wet</p>
+		<p class="i12">With evening dew,</p>
+		<p>Far in the fields where sky and violet</p>
+		<p class="i12">Blend rifts of blue—</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>But for a moment, deep among the flowers</p>
+		<p class="i12">And rain-sweet grass,</p>
+		<p>I saw her—loved her—and as April showers</p>
+		<p class="i12">Beheld her pass.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>O, the lone vastness of the afterglow,</p>
+		<p class="i12">Unknown before;</p>
+		<p>Shall e’er I see that face where violets grow,</p>
+		<p class="i12">Perchance, once more!</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Yet no one comes save night, with wild regrets</p>
+		<p class="i12">And silent pain—</p>
+		<p>Only sometimes the scent of violets</p>
+		<p class="i12">On wind-blown rain.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-09"><a class="pagenum" id="page20" title="20">&nbsp;</a>A Song of Life</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p class="i6"><em>What if the song is sung, I say,</em></p>
+		<p class="i6"><em>As long as the song was sung!</em></p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Did we not meet with the blood’s best play</p>
+		<p>The lash of the winds and the rain that stung,</p>
+		<p>And the tang of the salty spray?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Did we not drink the last drop that clung</p>
+		<p>To the golden bowl with its glowing fire,</p>
+		<p>Yet so cool to our burning tongue?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Did we not love with a love entire</p>
+		<p>That made up for all and a world of clay</p>
+		<p>In a moment of wild desire?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p class="i6"><em>What if the song is sung, I say,</em></p>
+		<p class="i6"><em>As long as the song was sung!</em></p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-10"><a class="pagenum" id="page21" title="21">&nbsp;</a>As a Still Brook</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>As a still brook within the woodland’s green</p>
+		<p class="i2">Sings softly to itself the live-long day,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Unconscious of its gentle roundelay,</p>
+		<p>Its open purity and silver sheen—</p>
+		<p>Knowing not how in all that wild demesne,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Its music is a strain the angels play</p>
+		<p class="i2">And its fair face a jewel amid the gray,</p>
+		<p>Beshadowed places that it flows between;</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>So your dear love, a simple forest stream,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Bearing the wealth of all that life can hold,—</p>
+		<p class="i4">Nor ever dreaming of the worth that lies</p>
+		<p>Deep in your heart—why, you have made it seem</p>
+		<p class="i2">That every empty hour is wrought of gold</p>
+		<p class="i4">And this tear-sodden world, a Paradise!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-11"><a class="pagenum" id="page22" title="22">&nbsp;</a>At the Window</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>I looked out of my window tall</p>
+		<p class="i2">And laughed to see the May,</p>
+		<p>For everything both great and small</p>
+		<p class="i2">Was on a holiday.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Then Love came by and laughed at me,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And I forgot the Spring—</p>
+		<p>Only I knew the ecstasy</p>
+		<p class="i2">Of madly listening.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And now the branches all again</p>
+		<p class="i2">Are red with vernal May,</p>
+		<p>But tears have dimmed the window-pane—</p>
+		<p class="i2">And no one comes my way.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-12"><a class="pagenum" id="page23" title="23">&nbsp;</a>A Sea Spell</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>The sunset sea—a goblet thick inlaid</p>
+		<p class="i2">With jewels wrought in golden filigree,</p>
+		<p class="i2">An opal from some elfin treasury</p>
+		<p>Burning with fire and flashing every shade;</p>
+		<p>While round the dim horizon, wide displayed</p>
+		<p class="i2">The clouds pile up their largess tenderly</p>
+		<p class="i2">As if to clothe the beauty of the sea</p>
+		<p>In filmy gossamer and soft brocade.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And far away I think I almost hear</p>
+		<p class="i2">A horn’s faint echo through the dusk-hour’s veil</p>
+		<p class="i4">As in the happy, golden days of yore—</p>
+		<p>Mayhap, e’en now upon this magic mere</p>
+		<p class="i2">Frail shallops will flit by and mermaids pale</p>
+		<p class="i4">Will lure us back to fairy-land once more!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-13"><a class="pagenum" id="page24" title="24">&nbsp;</a>The Silent Country</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Wave, wave sweet blooms of May and on your wings</p>
+		<p>Bear me away with drowsy winnowings</p>
+		<p>To some far twilight land where steals a stream</p>
+		<p>From out the cool and soundless groves of Dream.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>For in the Spring is such a bitter smart</p>
+		<p>Even the thought of it will break my heart,</p>
+		<p>So take me softly to a leafy bed</p>
+		<p>Where I shall dream and dream you are not dead!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-14"><a class="pagenum" id="page25" title="25">&nbsp;</a>The Sport of a God</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Though they say Jove laughs at the lover’s vow—</p>
+		<p class="i2">At the lover’s vow that must break some day—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Still we smiled as we loved in a distant May</p>
+		<p>When the blooms were heavy upon the bough.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>O, the mocking difference of then and now!</p>
+		<p class="i2">It isn’t a thought that will make one gay,</p>
+		<p>Though they say Jove laughs at the lover’s vow—</p>
+		<p class="i2">At the lover’s vow that must break some day.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Yet, perhaps, the god knows the best way how</p>
+		<p class="i2">To carry a mask when the feet are clay;</p>
+		<p class="i2">So I too shall laugh at the merry play,</p>
+		<p>For down in his heart there’s a knife, I trow,</p>
+		<p>Though they say Jove laughs at the lover’s vow.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-15"><a class="pagenum" id="page26" title="26">&nbsp;</a>Remembrance</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Sweet rosemary within the lane</p>
+		<p class="i2">The while the day is warm and clear,</p>
+		<p>And ne’er a thought of bitter rain</p>
+		<p class="i2">Or the road-side sere.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>But there are flowers more dear to me</p>
+		<p class="i2">That time can never set apart—</p>
+		<p>The fragrant blooms of memory</p>
+		<p class="i2">That grow within the heart.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-16"><a class="pagenum" id="page27" title="27">&nbsp;</a>In Days of Old</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Of all the ages’ gain, the ages’ loss,</p>
+		<p class="i2">A wealth of wonders and so much away—</p>
+		<p class="i2">When now hears one the woodland elves at play,</p>
+		<p>Or angry dryads where tall tree-tops toss.</p>
+		<p>No more they lightly tread the dewy moss</p>
+		<p class="i2">As danced they through cool haunts in ecstasy;</p>
+		<p class="i2">But rank and lost the paths in lone decay</p>
+		<p>Where fairy footsteps once were wont to cross.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>O, happy Greeks, who knew the gods so well,</p>
+		<p class="i2">To you I burn my sacrificial fire!</p>
+		<p class="i4">Again reveal the mystic hidden rune</p>
+		<p>Whereby to find the slopes of asphodel—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Ah, then to hear Apollo charm his lyre</p>
+		<p class="i4">And see Diana ’neath the sickle moon.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-17"><a class="pagenum" id="page28" title="28">&nbsp;</a>We Once Built a House o’ Dreams</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>We once built a house o’ dreams</p>
+		<p class="i2">At the break o’ day</p>
+		<p>Made from out the first gold beams</p>
+		<p class="i2">On the sward astray.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Little did we think or care</p>
+		<p class="i2">’Twas not safe nor strong;</p>
+		<p>We were very happy there</p>
+		<p class="i2">And the day was long.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Now we leave our house o’ dreams,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Why, we do not know;</p>
+		<p>Only this—so strange it seems</p>
+		<p class="i2">And so hard to go!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-18"><a class="pagenum" id="page29" title="29">&nbsp;</a>A Song of the Way</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Give me the road, the great broad road,</p>
+		<p class="i2">That wanders over the hill;</p>
+		<p>Give me a heart without a care</p>
+		<p class="i2">And a free, unfettered will—</p>
+		<p>Ah, thus to journey, thus to fare,</p>
+		<p class="i2">With only the skies to frown,</p>
+		<p>And happy I, if the ways but lie</p>
+		<p class="i2">Away, away from the town.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Give me the path, the wild-wood path</p>
+		<p class="i2">That wanders deep in a dell,</p>
+		<p>Where silence sleeps and sunbeams fain</p>
+		<p class="i2">Would waken the slumber spell—</p>
+		<p>For there the gods find the world again,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Immortals of ancient lore,</p>
+		<p>And time is gone, and a mad-glad faun</p>
+		<p class="i2">Knows the glades of Greece once more.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-19"><a class="pagenum" id="page30" title="30">&nbsp;</a>In Trinity Church-Yard at Sunset</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>How still they sleep within the city moil</p>
+		<p class="i2">In their old church-yard with its sighing trees,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Where sometimes through the din a twilight breeze</p>
+		<p>Makes one forget the busy streets of toil;</p>
+		<p>But they have little thought of worldly spoil</p>
+		<p class="i2">Or the great gain of mortal victories,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Their hopes, their dreams, are cold and dead as these</p>
+		<p>Quaint, time-worn gravestones crumbling on the soil.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Yet they once lived and struggled years ago;</p>
+		<p class="i2">Their hearts beat madly as these hearts of ours—</p>
+		<p class="i4">And now is all undone in dreamless rest?</p>
+		<p>See, a great city stands against the glow—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Their city, they who here beneath the flowers</p>
+		<p class="i4">Have known so long God’s gift of peace, most blest!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-20"><a class="pagenum" id="page31" title="31">&nbsp;</a>Where Cross-Roads Part</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Glad roads of Spring—O lanes of laughing May</p>
+		<p>As fleeting as the shadow-clouds at play</p>
+		<p class="i2">With sunbeams rife upon the grassy green;</p>
+		<p class="i2">O golden lanes—through roads that lie between</p>
+		<p>Amid what darkened sweep lost I the way?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Or was’t the stripling Youth, whose roundelay</p>
+		<p>Awoke the echoes of the throbbing day</p>
+		<p class="i2">And changed to gladness all the world’s dull mien,</p>
+		<p class="i14">Glad roads of Spring?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Apart I stand, distraught with lone dismay,</p>
+		<p>No more Youth’s gladsome biddings to obey,</p>
+		<p class="i2">No more with him Love’s strewings lost to glean;</p>
+		<p class="i2">The hills of years now ever intervene,</p>
+		<p>And bid me say good-bye to you for aye,</p>
+		<p class="i14">Glad roads of Spring!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-21"><a class="pagenum" id="page32" title="32">&nbsp;</a>Saida</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>We passed along the high-road, you and I,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Though I remember not the place nor when;</p>
+		<p>Only the wonder of your face, and then</p>
+		<p class="i12">That you passed by.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>But that was long ago, and I forget;</p>
+		<p class="i2">Perhaps ’twere better that I went alone,</p>
+		<p>You might not e’er have loved me had you known,</p>
+		<p class="i12">And yet, and yet—</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-22"><a class="pagenum" id="page33" title="33">&nbsp;</a>In Arcady</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Although ’tis but a memory,</p>
+		<p>Still in the days of long ago</p>
+		<p>We tended sheep in Arcady.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Then were we both of fancy free</p>
+		<p>And laughing Youth had much to show,</p>
+		<p>Although ’tis but a memory.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Again the pasture lands we see</p>
+		<p>Where in the golden summer glow</p>
+		<p>We tended sheep in Arcady.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And hear the tender harmony</p>
+		<p>Of shepherd pipes that softly blow,</p>
+		<p>Although ’tis but a memory.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Nor thought of any end had we</p>
+		<p>As through the grasses to and fro</p>
+		<p>We tended sheep in Arcady.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>So, what if life now empty be,</p>
+		<p>Of all the past this do we know,</p>
+		<p>Although ’tis but a memory,</p>
+		<p>We tended sheep in Arcady!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-23"><a class="pagenum" id="page34" title="34">&nbsp;</a>The Summer Rain</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>As one who listens to the summer rain</p>
+		<p class="i2">Against the roof when all the night is still,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Save for the wind beneath the window-sill,</p>
+		<p>Crooning its homely, comforting refrain,—</p>
+		<p>And listening feels that neither joy nor pain</p>
+		<p class="i2">Can trouble now—only the faint sweet thrill</p>
+		<p class="i2">Of drowsiness and peace and rest until</p>
+		<p>The barque glides softly into sleep’s domain;</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>So I, whose empty way leads wandering</p>
+		<p class="i2">Between high garden-walls that hide the sun,</p>
+		<p class="i4">Hear sometimes on the breeze a simple strain</p>
+		<p>Of an old song you once were wont to sing—</p>
+		<p class="i2">And then forgetting all, I seem as one</p>
+		<p class="i4">Who listens spell-bound to the summer rain.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-24"><a class="pagenum" id="page35" title="35">&nbsp;</a>Impression</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>A little stone o’ercrept with moss,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And red wild roses flaunting by,</p>
+		<p class="i2">A wistful breeze that seems to sigh</p>
+		<p>Where the tall grasses toss.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>To sigh for one who went away,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Thus it is writ upon the stone—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Nothing can ever make atone</p>
+		<p>And tears shall fall for aye.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Oh, irony of human vow,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Even the stone is crumbling too,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And tears,—none save the evening dew,</p>
+		<p>For who remembers now?</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-25"><a class="pagenum" id="page36" title="36">&nbsp;</a>Derelicts</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>A year, a year, and then to miss</p>
+		<p>That which was all in all for aye;</p>
+		<p>O Love as fleeting as your kiss,</p>
+		<p>O Love forever and a day,</p>
+		<p class="i8">To this.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>How such a change in one short year,</p>
+		<p>I cannot, cannot understand;</p>
+		<p>Oh, why to cast upon Love’s bier,</p>
+		<p>Whose name was written in the sand,</p>
+		<p class="i8">This tear?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Why, when the fields were red with May</p>
+		<p>When you and I together swore;</p>
+		<p>Is May so very far away,</p>
+		<p>Was all so different then, before</p>
+		<p class="i8">Today?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p><a class="pagenum" id="page37" title="37"> </a>And did the gods above then smile</p>
+		<p>When we believed that love would last,</p>
+		<p>Counting its heart-beats on the dial</p>
+		<p>Of hours that have too soon slipped past,</p>
+		<p class="i8">The while.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Two boats upon a sea of glass—</p>
+		<p>A little strength, a little trust;</p>
+		<p>Yet let the hand of Fate but pass,</p>
+		<p>Could they withstand the storm-cloud’s gust,</p>
+		<p class="i8">Alas!</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>So, though not knowing, yet must I</p>
+		<p>Forget one day and feel no more</p>
+		<p>Your love, which dreamed not e’er to die.</p>
+		<p>Thank God for that—I close my door.</p>
+		<p class="i8">Good-bye.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-26"><a class="pagenum" id="page38" title="38">&nbsp;</a>The End of the Day</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>The day is done and every hour is spent</p>
+		<p class="i2">And now it lies a-dying in the west,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Yet with what wonder those last moments blest</p>
+		<p>Crown all with the chaste kiss of sweet content;</p>
+		<p>For nature’s minstrels sing a carol pent</p>
+		<p class="i2">With the soft music of the spheres suppressed</p>
+		<p class="i2">In one great strain—the while upon night’s breast</p>
+		<p>The dying day sinks down in languishment.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And in those last faint breaths as ’twere in sooth</p>
+		<p class="i2">The halo of some saint, a glowing light</p>
+		<p class="i4">Of purest gold streams through the darkened sky,</p>
+		<p>A light more wondrous than the dawn of youth—</p>
+		<p class="i2">For ’tis a flame cleft out the veil of night</p>
+		<p class="i4">From that eternal dawn that ne’er can die!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-27"><a class="pagenum" id="page39" title="39">&nbsp;</a>Tristesse</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<p>If you were not away</p>
+	<p>These trees, this south-wind and this dreary day</p>
+	<p>Would all be mad with joyous ecstasy;</p>
+	<p>But you are gone, so mourning they with me</p>
+	<p>Find bitter-sweet in idle fantasy.</p>
+	<p>How glad, how mad, how gay,</p>
+	<p>If you were not away!</p>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-28"><a class="pagenum" id="page40" title="40">&nbsp;</a>Interlude</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Sometimes from out the rush of pulsing days,</p>
+		<p class="i2">These days whose poetry was lost in prose</p>
+		<p class="i2">So long ago, left desolate on those</p>
+		<p>Far childhood paths—yet, sometimes from the haze</p>
+		<p>Of half-forgotten years, fall on our ways</p>
+		<p class="i2">Now drear, a strain of song, a June-blown rose.</p>
+		<p class="i2">Ah, sweet, so sweet unto a heart that knows</p>
+		<p>The memory of once-remembered Mays!</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Only a moment’s interlude, and yet</p>
+		<p class="i2">How the heart quaffs the draught that thrills and thrills</p>
+		<p class="i4">Its soul, finding again youth’s mysteries.</p>
+		<p>What matter if tomorrow we forget—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Today the stillness of the sun-lit hills</p>
+		<p class="i4">And the low drowsy hum of summer bees!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-29"><a class="pagenum" id="page41" title="41">&nbsp;</a>To You, Dear Heart</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>To you, dear heart, whom I have never known</p>
+		<p class="i2">I sing my little songs all wonderingly</p>
+		<p>That sometime you may hear,—the sweet atone</p>
+		<p>For all the years and years of search alone—</p>
+		<p class="i2">That sometime you may hear and come to me.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>So on I go a-singing down my way</p>
+		<p class="i2">With ne’er a thought of all the journey past,</p>
+		<p>For this I know—that on one perfect day</p>
+		<p>When everything is, oh, so glad and gay,</p>
+		<p class="i2">You’ll hear and come and claim your own, at last.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-30"><a class="pagenum" id="page42" title="42">&nbsp;</a>Twilight</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>When twilight falls and all the land is still,</p>
+		<p>The purple shadows steal across the hill,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And one lone star above a pine-tree’s crest</p>
+		<p class="i2">Shines ever brighter, while from out its nest</p>
+		<p>There breaks the low cry of the whip-poor-will.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And softly grows the ladened hush until</p>
+		<p>E’en winds list o’er the fields of daffodil</p>
+		<p class="i2">They all day wafted,—’tis so sweet to rest</p>
+		<p class="i10">When twilight falls.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Let not one drop of this rare nectar spill,</p>
+		<p>But with the beryl wine your goblet fill.</p>
+		<p class="i2">Drink with me, Love, the golden of the west,</p>
+		<p class="i2">For all is made for love and love is best,—</p>
+		<p>And, oh, the wonder of the moment’s thrill</p>
+		<p class="i10">When twilight falls!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-31"><a class="pagenum" id="page43" title="43">&nbsp;</a>The Poet</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>For one great Queen who sits in majesty,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Untouched, austere, upon a golden throne,</p>
+		<p class="i2">The like whose loveliness was never known</p>
+		<p>Of ebony and rose and ivory,—</p>
+		<p>For her you weave a broidered tapestry,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Rife with rich stains of every color-tone</p>
+		<p class="i2">Inwrought; while she immovable as stone</p>
+		<p>But watches pitiless and silently.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Yet, should this Queen of Beauty lift her arm</p>
+		<p class="i2">And take your broidered web,—ah, then the prize,</p>
+		<p class="i4">The vast reward of all the scars and shame,</p>
+		<p>For in the moment as a mystic charm</p>
+		<p class="i2">The cloth is changed to porphyry, and lies</p>
+		<p class="i4">Forever on her breast a frozen flame!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-32"><a class="pagenum" id="page44" title="44">&nbsp;</a>The Hunchback</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>He never knew the golden thrall of youth,</p>
+		<p class="i2">The ringing step, the rumpled wind-tossed hair,</p>
+		<p>The reckless laugh untouched of pain or ruth,—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Youth without pity and without a care.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Not his the swift lithe strength that ever slays,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And in its joyous slaying doubly sweet,</p>
+		<p>Like some young god adown immortal ways,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Crushing the blossoms ’neath unheeding feet.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>A twisted back, a face year-scarred and grim,</p>
+		<p class="i2">A very mockery to love’s caress,</p>
+		<p>These were the only birthright given him,—</p>
+		<p class="i2">What should he know, except of ugliness?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>But in his fettered heart in longing pent</p>
+		<p class="i2">A wealth of tenderness and, stranger too,</p>
+		<p>Youth full of pity,—ah, the wonderment,—</p>
+		<p class="i2">He never knew, and yet how well he knew!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-33"><a class="pagenum" id="page45" title="45">&nbsp;</a>The Little Ghosts</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Where are they gone, and do you know</p>
+		<p class="i2">If they come back at fall o’ dew,</p>
+		<p>The little ghosts of long ago,</p>
+		<p class="i2">That long ago were you?</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And all the songs that ne’er were sung,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And all the dreams that ne’er came true,</p>
+		<p>Like little children dying young,—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Do they come back to you?</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-34"><a class="pagenum" id="page46" title="46">&nbsp;</a>I Know a Quiet Vale</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>I know a quiet vale where faint winds blow</p>
+		<p class="i2">The silver poplar branches all awry,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And ne’er another sound comes drifting by</p>
+		<p>Save where the stream’s cool waters softly flow;</p>
+		<p>Wild roses riot there and violets throw</p>
+		<p class="i2">Their perfume recklessly, the while on high</p>
+		<p class="i2">Great snowy clouds pillow the smiling sky</p>
+		<p>And cast frail shadows on the grass below.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>All is the same, the summer stillness dreams</p>
+		<p class="i2">In idleness across the sunny leas,</p>
+		<p>Until for very drowsiness it seems</p>
+		<p class="i2">The wind has gone to sleep within the trees—</p>
+		<p>Yet we once laughed at what the years might bring,</p>
+		<p>And now I am alone, remembering.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-35"><a class="pagenum" id="page47" title="47">&nbsp;</a>Song</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Blurred is the moon in a yellow stain,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And the clouds are flying before the wind,</p>
+		<p>The leaves fall fast in a ghostly rain,—</p>
+		<p class="i4">Summer is left behind.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And left behind the long nights of June,</p>
+		<p class="i2">When the lights were soft in the waters’ shine—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Softer your lips when they first met mine—</p>
+		<p class="i4">Blurred is the Autumn moon.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p><em>Blurred is the moon in a yellow stain,</em></p>
+		<p><em>And oh, for the warmth of your arms again!</em></p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-36"><a class="pagenum" id="page48" title="48">&nbsp;</a>Immutability</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Within your hands you hold the wealth of years,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Old Time,—yes, all the gold of yesterday,</p>
+		<p class="i2">All of love’s sunshine and the bitter gray</p>
+		<p>Of tears—oh, the great multitude of tears;</p>
+		<p>For everything is yours within the spheres</p>
+		<p class="i2">To give or take, or break, or keep for aye,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Nor heed you e’en one wild cry of dismay,</p>
+		<p>But gather on until all disappears.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Yet love is sweet and we are not so old,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Nor did the gods mean us to separate.</p>
+		<p class="i4">O Time you cannot take my love from me,</p>
+		<p>Life has so much, so very much to hold</p>
+		<p class="i2">For each,—I must not dream it is too late</p>
+		<p class="i4">And that we’ll dwell no more in Arcady.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-37"><a class="pagenum" id="page49" title="49">&nbsp;</a>In the Fall o’ Year</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>I went back an old-time lane</p>
+		<p class="i2">In the fall o’ year,</p>
+		<p>There was wind and bitter rain</p>
+		<p class="i2">And the leaves were sere.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Once the birds were lilting high</p>
+		<p class="i2">In a far-off May—</p>
+		<p>I remember, you and I</p>
+		<p class="i2">Were as glad as they.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>But the branches now are bare</p>
+		<p class="i2">And the lad you knew,</p>
+		<p>Long ago was buried there—</p>
+		<p class="i2">Long ago with you!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-38"><a class="pagenum" id="page50" title="50">&nbsp;</a>Love’s Song</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p class="i2">If I had never known</p>
+		<p>How far would I have wandered wistfully alone,</p>
+		<p>Hearing no echo of that wondrous song</p>
+		<p class="i2">Whose music lingers long.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p class="i2">Beside whose sweetness pale</p>
+		<p>Even the soft notes of the nightingale,</p>
+		<p>Whose theme is wrought of laughter and of tears</p>
+		<p class="i2">From all the deathless years.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p class="i2">Ah, better thus by far</p>
+		<p>To once have felt the barriers unbar,</p>
+		<p>And known the moment in a rapt surprise</p>
+		<p class="i2">The song of Paradise!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-39"><a class="pagenum" id="page51" title="51">&nbsp;</a>The Golden Hour</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>The winds may blow, the sleet may dash the pane</p>
+		<p class="i2">And all our lonely road be clothed in gray,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Yet what care we how dark may be the way,</p>
+		<p>Or whether e’er we see the sun again;</p>
+		<p>On shall we journey through the stinging rain,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Our glad hearts beating to a roundelay</p>
+		<p class="i2">Learned long ago in one great, joyous day,</p>
+		<p>When we first knew we had not lived in vain.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>We two have lived, we drank the ruddy wine</p>
+		<p class="i2">And felt the wonder of its burning kiss—</p>
+		<p class="i4">Let come what may there is no earthly power</p>
+		<p>Can take away that rapture, yours and mine.</p>
+		<p class="i2">Others may weep, who would give all for this,</p>
+		<p class="i4">To find what we have found—the golden hour!</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-40"><a class="pagenum" id="page52" title="52">&nbsp;</a>The Dream-Way</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>It did not look so far, and yet, and yet,</p>
+		<p>The moments were so easy to forget,</p>
+		<p>For now without your hand to guide, it seems</p>
+		<p>I seek in vain to find a way of dreams.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>A moon-lit path between aspiring trees,</p>
+		<p>’Neath wind-blown leaves rustling in harmonies,</p>
+		<p>A little song that I may never sing—</p>
+		<p>But oh, the wondrous memory lingering.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And though I never may return until</p>
+		<p>I clasp your hand beyond these years, why still</p>
+		<p>There is one guide the path of life along—</p>
+		<p>A fleeting end of dream-remembered song.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-41"><a class="pagenum" id="page53" title="53">&nbsp;</a>The Spirit of Autumn</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Where the winds low list and the leafless trees</p>
+		<p class="i2">Stand gaunt and gray ’gainst the sullen sky,</p>
+		<p>The naked boughs whisper melodies</p>
+		<p class="i2">Of Summer spent and of Spring gone by—</p>
+		<p>Of days once glad that are gone forever,</p>
+		<p>Of lips once true that will answer never,</p>
+		<p>Of life and love that are but as these</p>
+		<p class="i2">Dead leaves of Autumn grown withered and dry.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>But a spirit haunts in the moon’s pale glow</p>
+		<p class="i2">And all is changed as she sings a strain,</p>
+		<p>While the night winds hearken and lightly blow</p>
+		<p class="i2">Her loose-bound hair in a raven-rain—</p>
+		<p>And bear her song to the distant closes,</p>
+		<p>Where many a longing heart reposes,</p>
+		<p>Waking old love-dreams that overflow</p>
+		<p class="i2">In a rapturous joy and wistful pain.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Ah, that song ’tis sweet as the pipes of Pan,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Or faint lutes sounding in Arcady</p>
+		<p>Through the purple dawn,—yea, far sweeter than</p>
+		<p class="i2">The music that wafts from a Southern sea!</p>
+		<p>Beneath its spell the wastes bloom in flowers,</p>
+		<p>And back again come the vanished hours,</p>
+		<p>For she who sings to the soul of man</p>
+		<p class="i2">Is the Autumn spirit of memory.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-42"><a class="pagenum" id="page54" title="54">&nbsp;</a>On The Long Road</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Ah, many were they then of yesterday,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Who bore me gifts of attar and of myrrh,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And leaves of roses delicate that were</p>
+		<p>Sprung from a garden-close in far Cathay;</p>
+		<p>While I, unheeding, let them pass their way</p>
+		<p class="i2">Nor cared for all the gifts they might confer,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Watching in vain for one dear loiterer,</p>
+		<p>Who never dreamed adown my path to stray.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And now out in the lonely road I stand,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Where echoes drearily the ceaseless tread</p>
+		<p class="i4">Of stranger footsteps, slow and burdensome—</p>
+		<p>I am forgot and empty is each hand,</p>
+		<p class="i2">Save for the dust of roses witherèd,</p>
+		<p class="i4">Yet still I wait for you who never come.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-43"><a class="pagenum" id="page55" title="55">&nbsp;</a>A Postlude</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>If only in your life to live, might I</p>
+		<p class="i2">Perchance those broken chords with my own meet,</p>
+		<p>Though quite imperfect, yet but thus to try</p>
+		<p class="i12">Were oh, so wondrous sweet.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Not the broad high-roads which you would have trod,</p>
+		<p class="i2">A lonely wanderer these may not essay,</p>
+		<p>Still, spirit mine, the by-paths that I plod</p>
+		<p class="i12">Do lead the selfsame way.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And if a little part I should fulfil</p>
+		<p class="i2">Of those fair deeds which you hoped to pursue—</p>
+		<p>Oh, how content to walk the miles until</p>
+		<p class="i12">I reach my home and you.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-44"><a class="pagenum" id="page56" title="56">&nbsp;</a>An Old Song</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Low blowing winds from out a midnight sky,</p>
+		<p class="i2">The falling embers and a kettle’s croon—</p>
+		<p>These three, but oh what sweeter lullaby</p>
+		<p class="i2">Ever awoke beneath the winter’s moon.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>We know of none the sweeter, you and I,</p>
+		<p class="i2">And oft we’ve heard together that old tune—</p>
+		<p>Low blowing winds from out a midnight sky,</p>
+		<p class="i2">The falling embers and a kettle’s croon.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<h2 class="title" id="poem-45"><a class="pagenum" id="page57" title="57"> </a>Old Roses</h2>
+
+<div class="poem">
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>Spirit of old-time roses, when the glow</p>
+		<p class="i2">Of eventide steals softly through the trees</p>
+		<p class="i2">Like rosy petals falling, and the breeze</p>
+		<p>Grows hushed until it sings a love-song, low</p>
+		<p>And sweet and tender, then I seem to know</p>
+		<p class="i2">You too are somewhere near and watching these</p>
+		<p class="i2">Last wondrous sights of day—God’s mysteries</p>
+		<p>We used to watch together long ago.</p>
+	</div>
+
+	<div class="stanza">
+		<p>And, like a benediction, happiness</p>
+		<p class="i2">Fills all my soul, as if a wandering breath</p>
+		<p class="i4">From that high heaven had wafted down to me—</p>
+		<p>As if I felt again your dear caress</p>
+		<p class="i2">And knew you to be waiting e’er in death,</p>
+		<p class="i4">Crowned with the roses of eternity.</p>
+	</div>
+</div>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROSE-JAR***</p>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Rose-Jar, by Thomas S. (Thomas Samuel)
+Jones
+
+
+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 Rose-Jar
+
+
+Author: Thomas S. (Thomas Samuel) Jones
+
+
+
+Release Date: January 4, 2009  [eBook #27700]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ROSE-JAR***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Barbara Tozier, and the Project
+Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+THE ROSE-JAR
+
+by
+
+THOMAS S. JONES, JR.
+
+Author of _The Path o' Dreams_, etc.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration]
+
+
+Clinton, New York
+George William Browning
+
+Copyrighted 1906 by Thomas S. Jones, Jr.
+
+
+The author desires to thank the editors of Appleton's Magazine,
+Everybody's Magazine, Lippincott's Magazine, The New York Times, The
+Smart Set, and the other publications in which the verses in this
+collection originally appeared, for their kind permission to reprint.
+
+
+
+
+_This Edition of_ The Rose-Jar _Printed by George William Browning at
+Clinton New York during the Summer of 1906 consists of Three Hundred
+copies on Deckle-Edged Paper, with Twelve additional copies on
+Imperial Japan Vellum (Insetsu Kioku)._
+
+                             _NUMBER 258_
+
+                                [Illustration: Author's signature]
+
+
+
+
+To the Memory of My Mother
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+
+  As in a Rose-Jar
+  The Island
+  You and I
+  A Ballade of Old Romance
+  A Voice from the Far Away
+  April
+  A Yesterday
+  Violets
+  A Song of Life
+  As a Still Brook
+  At the Window
+  A Sea Spell
+  The Silent Country
+  The Sport of a God
+  Remembrance
+  In Days of Old
+  We Once Built a House o' Dreams
+  A Song of the Way
+  In Trinity Church-Yard at Sunset
+  Where Cross-Roads Part
+  Saida
+  In Arcady
+  The Summer Rain
+  Impression
+  Derelicts
+  The End of the Day
+  Tristesse
+  Interlude
+  To You, Dear Heart
+  Twilight
+  The Poet
+  The Hunchback
+  The Little Ghosts
+  I Know a Quiet Vale
+  Song
+  Immutability
+  In the Fall o' Year
+  Love's Song
+  The Golden Hour
+  The Dream-Way
+  The Spirit of Autumn
+  On the Long Road
+  A Postlude
+  An Old Song
+  Old Roses
+
+
+
+
+_The Rose-Jar_
+
+
+
+
+As in a Rose-Jar
+
+
+  As in a rose-jar filled with petals sweet
+    Blown long ago in some old garden place,
+    Mayhap, where you and I, a little space,
+  Drank deep of love and knew that love was fleet--
+  Or leaves once gathered from a lost retreat
+    By one who never will again retrace
+    Her silent footsteps--one, whose gentle face
+  Was fairer than the roses at her feet;
+
+  So, deep within the vase of memory,
+    I keep my dust of roses fresh and dear
+      As in the days before I knew the smart
+  Of time and death. Nor aught can take from me
+    The haunting fragrance that still lingers here--
+      As in a rose-jar, so within my heart!
+
+
+
+
+The Island
+
+
+  There is an island in the silent sea,
+  Whose marge the wistful waves lap listlessly--
+  An isle of rest for those who used to be.
+
+  For ne'er an echo wakes that towering wall,
+  Whose blackened crags answer none other call
+  Save the lone ocean's rhythmic rise and fall.
+
+  Only the song the sea sings as she laves
+  That sleep-bound shore with sad caressing waves,
+  The while the dead sleep sweeter in their graves.
+
+  'Tis oh! so still they sleep within each tomb,
+  Cool in long shadows of the cypress gloom,
+  Breathing in death the moon-flower's rank perfume.
+
+  They know not when slow barges on the mere
+  Enter the portals of that place austere--
+  Enter and so forever disappear!
+
+  And in this island of a silent sea,
+  Whose marge e'er wistful waves lap listlessly,
+  Is rest,--is peace for all eternity.
+
+
+
+
+You and I
+
+
+  Over the hills where the pine-trees grow,
+    With a laugh to answer the wind at play.
+  Why do I laugh? I do not know,
+    But you and I once passed this way.
+
+  Down in the hollow now white with snow
+    My heart is singing a song today.
+  Why do I sing? I do not know,
+    But you and I were here in May.
+
+
+
+
+A Ballade of Old Romance
+
+
+  When April spreads her mantle green
+    Across the pasture-lands of snow,
+  And Spring's first scarlet breasts are seen
+    Where treetops rustle to and fro;
+    Then come fair fragrant dreams as though
+  Our lightest fancy to entrance
+    And paint us what we fain would know
+  Adown the lanes of Old Romance.
+
+  Anon, we see the golden sheen
+    Of burnished mail the sunbeams throw,
+  Flashing the poplars tall between,
+    As knights ride by to meet the foe;
+    Or, mayhap, shepherd lads who blow
+  On slender pipes, a pastoral dance--
+    Ah, strong were they in weal and woe
+  Adown the lanes of Old Romance!
+
+  But now the vast years intervene,
+    The fountain long has ceased its flow,
+  And silence rules the lone demesne
+    That once held such a goodly show;
+    Yet time, at least, does this bestow
+  Nor leave the best to fleeting chance--
+    They live again in fancy's glow
+  Adown the lanes of Old Romance.
+
+
+                ENVOY
+
+  Sweet, still for us some blossoms grow
+    From out that dim and dear expanse--
+  Come, take my hand and we shall go
+    Adown the lanes of Old Romance!
+
+
+
+
+A Voice From the Far Away
+
+
+  I heard a voice from the far away
+    Softly say this to me--
+  "You will find the heart of the world some day
+    And the why of the things that be;
+  You will see the grief of the yea and nay
+    And the price of frailty.
+
+  "And upon your lute you will weave a theme
+    Which the world will harken and know;
+  For every note of the song will teem
+    With a great soul's overflow--
+  You will speak the meaning within a dream
+    And the pain in the afterglow.
+
+  "But for all of this there's a price--
+    'Tis the price of minstrelsy--
+  You will never have of the things you play,
+    Sad singer of poetry,
+  And throughout your life you will go for aye,
+    Heart-hungry and silently!"
+  I heard a voice from the far away
+    Softly say this to me.
+
+
+
+
+April
+
+
+  Throughout the vale again Narcissus cries
+    And Echo answers from her dark retreat,
+    While Zephyr heavy-laden with the sweet,
+  Fresh scent of blooms across the pasture hies;
+  Above, the blueness of the April skies,
+    Matched by the lure unto the wandering feet
+    That e'er must go ere Spring could be complete
+  To the green wood where laughing Eros lies.
+
+  O April lover, hear the pipes that call,
+    The pipes of Pan a-blowing lustily,
+      They call to you and me, and he who hears
+  Must ever after be Young April's thrall--
+    So, faring thus together, we shall see
+      The Islands of the Blest between the Spheres!
+
+
+
+
+A Yesterday
+
+
+  I held you in my arms--so happy I,
+  Who quite forgot the while that moments fly;
+  Nor ever dreamed that they could pass away,
+      Till it was yesterday.
+
+  Yet, just because that hour was long ago
+  And seems to me so near--well, this I know
+  That sometime I shall clasp your hand and say:
+      Was there a yesterday?
+
+
+
+
+Violets
+
+
+  'Twas just at sundown, when the leaves were wet
+              With evening dew,
+  Far in the fields where sky and violet
+              Blend rifts of blue--
+
+  But for a moment, deep among the flowers
+              And rain-sweet grass,
+  I saw her--loved her--and as April showers
+              Beheld her pass.
+
+  O, the lone vastness of the afterglow,
+              Unknown before;
+  Shall e'er I see that face where violets grow,
+              Perchance, once more!
+
+  Yet no one comes save night, with wild regrets
+              And silent pain--
+  Only sometimes the scent of violets
+              On wind-blown rain.
+
+
+
+
+A Song of Life
+
+
+        _What if the song is sung, I say,
+        As long as the song was sung!_
+
+  Did we not meet with the blood's best play
+  The lash of the winds and the rain that stung,
+  And the tang of the salty spray?
+
+  Did we not drink the last drop that clung
+  To the golden bowl with its glowing fire,
+  Yet so cool to our burning tongue?
+
+  Did we not love with a love entire
+  That made up for all and a world of clay
+  In a moment of wild desire?
+
+        _What if the song is sung, I say,
+        As long as the song was sung!_
+
+
+
+
+As a Still Brook
+
+
+  As a still brook within the woodland's green
+    Sings softly to itself the live-long day,
+    Unconscious of its gentle roundelay,
+  Its open purity and silver sheen--
+  Knowing not how in all that wild demesne,
+    Its music is a strain the angels play
+    And its fair face a jewel amid the gray,
+  Beshadowed places that it flows between;
+
+  So your dear love, a simple forest stream,
+    Bearing the wealth of all that life can hold,--
+      Nor ever dreaming of the worth that lies
+  Deep in your heart--why, you have made it seem
+    That every empty hour is wrought of gold
+      And this tear-sodden world, a Paradise!
+
+
+
+
+At the Window
+
+
+  I looked out of my window tall
+    And laughed to see the May,
+  For everything both great and small
+    Was on a holiday.
+
+  Then Love came by and laughed at me,
+    And I forgot the Spring--
+  Only I knew the ecstasy
+    Of madly listening.
+
+  And now the branches all again
+    Are red with vernal May,
+  But tears have dimmed the window-pane--
+    And no one comes my way.
+
+
+
+
+A Sea Spell
+
+
+  The sunset sea--a goblet thick inlaid
+    With jewels wrought in golden filigree,
+    An opal from some elfin treasury
+  Burning with fire and flashing every shade;
+  While round the dim horizon, wide displayed
+    The clouds pile up their largess tenderly
+    As if to clothe the beauty of the sea
+  In filmy gossamer and soft brocade.
+
+  And far away I think I almost hear
+    A horn's faint echo through the dusk-hour's veil
+      As in the happy, golden days of yore--
+  Mayhap, e'en now upon this magic mere
+    Frail shallops will flit by and mermaids pale
+      Will lure us back to fairy-land once more!
+
+
+
+
+The Silent Country
+
+
+  Wave, wave sweet blooms of May and on your wings
+  Bear me away with drowsy winnowings
+  To some far twilight land where steals a stream
+  From out the cool and soundless groves of Dream.
+
+  For in the Spring is such a bitter smart
+  Even the thought of it will break my heart,
+  So take me softly to a leafy bed
+  Where I shall dream and dream you are not dead!
+
+
+
+
+The Sport of a God
+
+
+  Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow--
+    At the lover's vow that must break some day--
+    Still we smiled as we loved in a distant May
+  When the blooms were heavy upon the bough.
+
+  O, the mocking difference of then and now!
+    It isn't a thought that will make one gay,
+  Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow--
+    At the lover's vow that must break some day.
+
+  Yet, perhaps, the god knows the best way how
+    To carry a mask when the feet are clay;
+    So I too shall laugh at the merry play,
+  For down in his heart there's a knife, I trow,
+  Though they say Jove laughs at the lover's vow.
+
+
+
+
+Remembrance
+
+
+  Sweet rosemary within the lane
+    The while the day is warm and clear,
+  And ne'er a thought of bitter rain
+    Or the road-side sere.
+
+  But there are flowers more dear to me
+    That time can never set apart--
+  The fragrant blooms of memory
+    That grow within the heart.
+
+
+
+
+In Days of Old
+
+
+  Of all the ages' gain, the ages' loss,
+    A wealth of wonders and so much away--
+    When now hears one the woodland elves at play,
+  Or angry dryads where tall tree-tops toss.
+  No more they lightly tread the dewy moss
+    As danced they through cool haunts in ecstasy;
+    But rank and lost the paths in lone decay
+  Where fairy footsteps once were wont to cross.
+
+  O, happy Greeks, who knew the gods so well,
+    To you I burn my sacrificial fire!
+      Again reveal the mystic hidden rune
+  Whereby to find the slopes of asphodel--
+    Ah, then to hear Apollo charm his lyre
+      And see Diana 'neath the sickle moon.
+
+
+
+
+We Once Built a House o' Dreams
+
+
+  We once built a house o' dreams
+    At the break o' day
+  Made from out the first gold beams
+    On the sward astray.
+
+  Little did we think or care
+    'Twas not safe nor strong;
+  We were very happy there
+    And the day was long.
+
+  Now we leave our house o' dreams,
+    Why, we do not know;
+  Only this--so strange it seems
+    And so hard to go!
+
+
+
+
+A Song of the Way
+
+
+  Give me the road, the great broad road,
+    That wanders over the hill;
+  Give me a heart without a care
+    And a free, unfettered will--
+  Ah, thus to journey, thus to fare,
+    With only the skies to frown,
+  And happy I, if the ways but lie
+    Away, away from the town.
+
+  Give me the path, the wild-wood path
+    That wanders deep in a dell,
+  Where silence sleeps and sunbeams fain
+    Would waken the slumber spell--
+  For there the gods find the world again,
+    Immortals of ancient lore,
+  And time is gone, and a mad-glad faun
+    Knows the glades of Greece once more.
+
+
+
+
+In Trinity Church-Yard at Sunset
+
+
+  How still they sleep within the city moil
+    In their old church-yard with its sighing trees,
+    Where sometimes through the din a twilight breeze
+  Makes one forget the busy streets of toil;
+  But they have little thought of worldly spoil
+    Or the great gain of mortal victories,
+    Their hopes, their dreams, are cold and dead as these
+  Quaint, time-worn gravestones crumbling on the soil.
+
+  Yet they once lived and struggled years ago;
+    Their hearts beat madly as these hearts of ours--
+      And now is all undone in dreamless rest?
+  See, a great city stands against the glow--
+    Their city, they who here beneath the flowers
+      Have known so long God's gift of peace, most blest!
+
+
+
+
+Where Cross-Roads Part
+
+
+  Glad roads of Spring--O lanes of laughing May
+  As fleeting as the shadow-clouds at play
+    With sunbeams rife upon the grassy green;
+    O golden lanes--through roads that lie between
+  Amid what darkened sweep lost I the way?
+
+  Or was't the stripling Youth, whose roundelay
+  Awoke the echoes of the throbbing day
+    And changed to gladness all the world's dull mien,
+                Glad roads of Spring?
+
+  Apart I stand, distraught with lone dismay,
+  No more Youth's gladsome biddings to obey,
+    No more with him Love's strewings lost to glean;
+    The hills of years now ever intervene,
+  And bid me say good-bye to you for aye,
+                Glad roads of Spring!
+
+
+
+
+Saida
+
+
+  We passed along the high-road, you and I,
+    Though I remember not the place nor when;
+  Only the wonder of your face, and then
+              That you passed by.
+
+  But that was long ago, and I forget;
+    Perhaps 'twere better that I went alone,
+  You might not e'er have loved me had you known,
+              And yet, and yet--
+
+
+
+
+In Arcady
+
+
+  Although 'tis but a memory,
+  Still in the days of long ago
+  We tended sheep in Arcady.
+
+  Then were we both of fancy free
+  And laughing Youth had much to show,
+  Although 'tis but a memory.
+
+  Again the pasture lands we see
+  Where in the golden summer glow
+  We tended sheep in Arcady.
+
+  And hear the tender harmony
+  Of shepherd pipes that softly blow,
+  Although 'tis but a memory.
+
+  Nor thought of any end had we
+  As through the grasses to and fro
+  We tended sheep in Arcady.
+
+  So, what if life now empty be,
+  Of all the past this do we know,
+  Although 'tis but a memory,
+  We tended sheep in Arcady!
+
+
+
+
+The Summer Rain
+
+
+  As one who listens to the summer rain
+    Against the roof when all the night is still,
+    Save for the wind beneath the window-sill,
+  Crooning its homely, comforting refrain,--
+  And listening feels that neither joy nor pain
+    Can trouble now--only the faint sweet thrill
+    Of drowsiness and peace and rest until
+  The barque glides softly into sleep's domain;
+
+  So I, whose empty way leads wandering
+    Between high garden-walls that hide the sun,
+      Hear sometimes on the breeze a simple strain
+  Of an old song you once were wont to sing--
+    And then forgetting all, I seem as one
+      Who listens spell-bound to the summer rain.
+
+
+
+
+Impression
+
+
+  A little stone o'ercrept with moss,
+    And red wild roses flaunting by,
+    A wistful breeze that seems to sigh
+  Where the tall grasses toss.
+
+  To sigh for one who went away,
+    Thus it is writ upon the stone--
+    Nothing can ever make atone
+  And tears shall fall for aye.
+
+  Oh, irony of human vow,
+    Even the stone is crumbling too,
+    And tears,--none save the evening dew,
+  For who remembers now?
+
+
+
+
+Derelicts
+
+
+  A year, a year, and then to miss
+  That which was all in all for aye;
+  O Love as fleeting as your kiss,
+  O Love forever and a day,
+          To this.
+
+  How such a change in one short year,
+  I cannot, cannot understand;
+  Oh, why to cast upon Love's bier,
+  Whose name was written in the sand,
+          This tear?
+
+  Why, when the fields were red with May
+  When you and I together swore;
+  Is May so very far away,
+  Was all so different then, before
+          Today?
+
+  And did the gods above then smile
+  When we believed that love would last,
+  Counting its heart-beats on the dial
+  Of hours that have too soon slipped past,
+          The while.
+
+  Two boats upon a sea of glass--
+  A little strength, a little trust;
+  Yet let the hand of Fate but pass,
+  Could they withstand the storm-cloud's gust,
+          Alas!
+
+  So, though not knowing, yet must I
+  Forget one day and feel no more
+  Your love, which dreamed not e'er to die.
+  Thank God for that--I close my door.
+          Good-bye.
+
+
+
+
+The End of the Day
+
+
+  The day is done and every hour is spent
+    And now it lies a-dying in the west,
+    Yet with what wonder those last moments blest
+  Crown all with the chaste kiss of sweet content;
+  For nature's minstrels sing a carol pent
+    With the soft music of the spheres suppressed
+    In one great strain--the while upon night's breast
+  The dying day sinks down in languishment.
+
+  And in those last faint breaths as 'twere in sooth
+    The halo of some saint, a glowing light
+      Of purest gold streams through the darkened sky,
+  A light more wondrous than the dawn of youth--
+    For 'tis a flame cleft out the veil of night
+      From that eternal dawn that ne'er can die!
+
+
+
+
+Tristesse
+
+
+  If you were not away
+  These trees, this south-wind and this dreary day
+  Would all be mad with joyous ecstasy;
+  But you are gone, so mourning they with me
+  Find bitter-sweet in idle fantasy.
+  How glad, how mad, how gay,
+  If you were not away!
+
+
+
+
+Interlude
+
+
+  Sometimes from out the rush of pulsing days,
+    These days whose poetry was lost in prose
+    So long ago, left desolate on those
+  Far childhood paths--yet, sometimes from the haze
+  Of half-forgotten years, fall on our ways
+    Now drear, a strain of song, a June-blown rose.
+    Ah, sweet, so sweet unto a heart that knows
+  The memory of once-remembered Mays!
+
+  Only a moment's interlude, and yet
+    How the heart quaffs the draught that thrills and thrills
+      Its soul, finding again youth's mysteries.
+  What matter if tomorrow we forget--
+    Today the stillness of the sun-lit hills
+      And the low drowsy hum of summer bees!
+
+
+
+
+To You, Dear Heart
+
+
+  To you, dear heart, whom I have never known
+    I sing my little songs all wonderingly
+  That sometime you may hear,--the sweet atone
+  For all the years and years of search alone--
+    That sometime you may hear and come to me.
+
+  So on I go a-singing down my way
+    With ne'er a thought of all the journey past,
+  For this I know--that on one perfect day
+  When everything is, oh, so glad and gay,
+    You'll hear and come and claim your own, at last.
+
+
+
+
+Twilight
+
+
+  When twilight falls and all the land is still,
+  The purple shadows steal across the hill,
+    And one lone star above a pine-tree's crest
+    Shines ever brighter, while from out its nest
+  There breaks the low cry of the whip-poor-will.
+
+  And softly grows the ladened hush until
+  E'en winds list o'er the fields of daffodil
+    They all day wafted,--'tis so sweet to rest
+            When twilight falls.
+
+  Let not one drop of this rare nectar spill,
+  But with the beryl wine your goblet fill.
+    Drink with me, Love, the golden of the west,
+    For all is made for love and love is best,--
+  And, oh, the wonder of the moment's thrill
+            When twilight falls!
+
+
+
+
+The Poet
+
+
+  For one great Queen who sits in majesty,
+    Untouched, austere, upon a golden throne,
+    The like whose loveliness was never known
+  Of ebony and rose and ivory,--
+  For her you weave a broidered tapestry,
+    Rife with rich stains of every color-tone
+    Inwrought; while she immovable as stone
+  But watches pitiless and silently.
+
+  Yet, should this Queen of Beauty lift her arm
+    And take your broidered web,--ah, then the prize,
+      The vast reward of all the scars and shame,
+  For in the moment as a mystic charm
+    The cloth is changed to porphyry, and lies
+      Forever on her breast a frozen flame!
+
+
+
+
+The Hunchback
+
+
+  He never knew the golden thrall of youth,
+    The ringing step, the rumpled wind-tossed hair,
+  The reckless laugh untouched of pain or ruth,--
+    Youth without pity and without a care.
+
+  Not his the swift lithe strength that ever slays,
+    And in its joyous slaying doubly sweet,
+  Like some young god adown immortal ways,
+    Crushing the blossoms 'neath unheeding feet.
+
+  A twisted back, a face year-scarred and grim,
+    A very mockery to love's caress,
+  These were the only birthright given him,--
+    What should he know, except of ugliness?
+
+  But in his fettered heart in longing pent
+    A wealth of tenderness and, stranger too,
+  Youth full of pity,--ah, the wonderment,--
+    He never knew, and yet how well he knew!
+
+
+
+
+The Little Ghosts
+
+
+  Where are they gone, and do you know
+    If they come back at fall o' dew,
+  The little ghosts of long ago,
+    That long ago were you?
+
+  And all the songs that ne'er were sung,
+    And all the dreams that ne'er came true,
+  Like little children dying young,--
+    Do they come back to you?
+
+
+
+
+I Know a Quiet Vale
+
+
+  I know a quiet vale where faint winds blow
+    The silver poplar branches all awry,
+    And ne'er another sound comes drifting by
+  Save where the stream's cool waters softly flow;
+  Wild roses riot there and violets throw
+    Their perfume recklessly, the while on high
+    Great snowy clouds pillow the smiling sky
+  And cast frail shadows on the grass below.
+
+  All is the same, the summer stillness dreams
+    In idleness across the sunny leas,
+  Until for very drowsiness it seems
+    The wind has gone to sleep within the trees--
+  Yet we once laughed at what the years might bring,
+  And now I am alone, remembering.
+
+
+
+
+Song
+
+
+  Blurred is the moon in a yellow stain,
+    And the clouds are flying before the wind,
+  The leaves fall fast in a ghostly rain,--
+      Summer is left behind.
+
+  And left behind the long nights of June,
+    When the lights were soft in the waters' shine--
+    Softer your lips when they first met mine--
+      Blurred is the Autumn moon.
+
+  _Blurred is the moon in a yellow stain,
+  And oh, for the warmth of your arms again!_
+
+
+
+
+Immutability
+
+
+  Within your hands you hold the wealth of years,
+    Old Time,--yes, all the gold of yesterday,
+    All of love's sunshine and the bitter gray
+  Of tears--oh, the great multitude of tears;
+  For everything is yours within the spheres
+    To give or take, or break, or keep for aye,
+    Nor heed you e'en one wild cry of dismay,
+  But gather on until all disappears.
+
+  Yet love is sweet and we are not so old,
+    Nor did the gods mean us to separate.
+      O Time you cannot take my love from me,
+  Life has so much, so very much to hold
+    For each,--I must not dream it is too late
+      And that we'll dwell no more in Arcady.
+
+
+
+
+In the Fall o' Year
+
+
+  I went back an old-time lane
+    In the fall o' year,
+  There was wind and bitter rain
+    And the leaves were sere.
+
+  Once the birds were lilting high
+    In a far-off May--
+  I remember, you and I
+    Were as glad as they.
+
+  But the branches now are bare
+    And the lad you knew,
+  Long ago was buried there--
+    Long ago with you!
+
+
+
+
+Love's Song
+
+
+    If I had never known
+  How far would I have wandered wistfully alone,
+  Hearing no echo of that wondrous song
+    Whose music lingers long.
+
+    Beside whose sweetness pale
+  Even the soft notes of the nightingale,
+  Whose theme is wrought of laughter and of tears
+    From all the deathless years.
+
+    Ah, better thus by far
+  To once have felt the barriers unbar,
+  And known the moment in a rapt surprise
+    The song of Paradise!
+
+
+
+
+The Golden Hour
+
+
+  The winds may blow, the sleet may dash the pane
+    And all our lonely road be clothed in gray,
+    Yet what care we how dark may be the way,
+  Or whether e'er we see the sun again;
+  On shall we journey through the stinging rain,
+    Our glad hearts beating to a roundelay
+    Learned long ago in one great, joyous day,
+  When we first knew we had not lived in vain.
+
+  We two have lived, we drank the ruddy wine
+    And felt the wonder of its burning kiss--
+      Let come what may there is no earthly power
+  Can take away that rapture, yours and mine.
+    Others may weep, who would give all for this,
+      To find what we have found--the golden hour!
+
+
+
+
+The Dream-Way
+
+
+  It did not look so far, and yet, and yet,
+  The moments were so easy to forget,
+  For now without your hand to guide, it seems
+  I seek in vain to find a way of dreams.
+
+  A moon-lit path between aspiring trees,
+  'Neath wind-blown leaves rustling in harmonies,
+  A little song that I may never sing--
+  But oh, the wondrous memory lingering.
+
+  And though I never may return until
+  I clasp your hand beyond these years, why still
+  There is one guide the path of life along--
+  A fleeting end of dream-remembered song.
+
+
+
+
+The Spirit of Autumn
+
+
+  Where the winds low list and the leafless trees
+    Stand gaunt and gray 'gainst the sullen sky,
+  The naked boughs whisper melodies
+    Of Summer spent and of Spring gone by--
+  Of days once glad that are gone forever,
+  Of lips once true that will answer never,
+  Of life and love that are but as these
+    Dead leaves of Autumn grown withered and dry.
+
+  But a spirit haunts in the moon's pale glow
+    And all is changed as she sings a strain,
+  While the night winds hearken and lightly blow
+    Her loose-bound hair in a raven-rain--
+  And bear her song to the distant closes,
+  Where many a longing heart reposes,
+  Waking old love-dreams that overflow
+    In a rapturous joy and wistful pain.
+
+  Ah, that song 'tis sweet as the pipes of Pan,
+    Or faint lutes sounding in Arcady
+  Through the purple dawn,--yea, far sweeter than
+    The music that wafts from a Southern sea!
+  Beneath its spell the wastes bloom in flowers,
+  And back again come the vanished hours,
+  For she who sings to the soul of man
+    Is the Autumn spirit of memory.
+
+
+
+
+On The Long Road
+
+
+  Ah, many were they then of yesterday,
+    Who bore me gifts of attar and of myrrh,
+    And leaves of roses delicate that were
+  Sprung from a garden-close in far Cathay;
+  While I, unheeding, let them pass their way
+    Nor cared for all the gifts they might confer,
+    Watching in vain for one dear loiterer,
+  Who never dreamed adown my path to stray.
+
+  And now out in the lonely road I stand,
+    Where echoes drearily the ceaseless tread
+      Of stranger footsteps, slow and burdensome--
+  I am forgot and empty is each hand,
+    Save for the dust of roses withered,
+      Yet still I wait for you who never come.
+
+
+
+
+A Postlude
+
+
+  If only in your life to live, might I
+    Perchance those broken chords with my own meet,
+  Though quite imperfect, yet but thus to try
+              Were oh, so wondrous sweet.
+
+  Not the broad high-roads which you would have trod,
+    A lonely wanderer these may not essay,
+  Still, spirit mine, the by-paths that I plod
+              Do lead the selfsame way.
+
+  And if a little part I should fulfil
+    Of those fair deeds which you hoped to pursue--
+  Oh, how content to walk the miles until
+              I reach my home and you.
+
+
+
+
+An Old Song
+
+
+  Low blowing winds from out a midnight sky,
+    The falling embers and a kettle's croon--
+  These three, but oh what sweeter lullaby
+    Ever awoke beneath the winter's moon.
+
+  We know of none the sweeter, you and I,
+    And oft we've heard together that old tune--
+  Low blowing winds from out a midnight sky,
+    The falling embers and a kettle's croon.
+
+
+
+
+Old Roses
+
+
+    Spirit of old-time roses, when the glow
+      Of eventide steals softly through the trees
+      Like rosy petals falling, and the breeze
+    Grows hushed until it sings a love-song, low
+    And sweet and tender, then I seem to know
+      You too are somewhere near and watching these
+      Last wondrous sights of day--God's mysteries
+    We used to watch together long ago.
+
+    And, like a benediction, happiness
+      Fills all my soul, as if a wandering breath
+        From that high heaven had wafted down to me--
+    As if I felt again your dear caress
+      And knew you to be waiting e'er in death,
+        Crowned with the roses of eternity.
+
+
+
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