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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31712-8.txt b/31712-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ec42a24 --- /dev/null +++ b/31712-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4842 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Garden of Dreams, by Madison J. Cawein + +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 Garden of Dreams + +Author: Madison J. Cawein + +Release Date: March 20, 2010 [EBook #31712] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GARDEN OF DREAMS *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + + + + + THE GARDEN OF DREAMS + + + MADISON CAWEIN + + _Author of "Intimations of the Beautiful," "Undertones," + and several other books of verse_ + + + LOUISVILLE + JOHN P MORTON & COMPANY + MDCCCXCVI + + + COPYRIGHT, 1896, + JOHN P. MORTON & COMPANY. + + + TO + MY BROTHERS. + + + + + _Not while I live may I forget + That garden which my spirit trod! + Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet, + And beautiful as God._ + + _Not while I breathe, awake adream, + Shall live again for me those hours, + When, in its mystery and gleam, + I met her 'mid the flowers._ + + _Eyes, talismanic heliotrope, + Beneath mesmeric lashes, where + The sorceries of love and hope + Had made a shining lair._ + + _And daydawn brows, whereover hung + The twilight of dark locks; and lips, + Whose beauty spoke the rose's tongue + Of fragrance-voweled drips._ + + _I will not tell of cheeks and chin, + That held me as sweet language holds; + Nor of the eloquence within + Her bosom's moony molds._ + + _Nor of her large limbs' languorous + Wind-grace, that glanced like starlight through + Her ardent robe's diaphanous + Web of the mist and dew._ + + _There is no star so pure and high + As was her look; no fragrance such + At her soft presence; and no sigh + Of music like her touch._ + + _Not while I live may I forget + That garden of dim dreams! where I + And Song within the spirit met, + Sweet Song, who passed me by._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + A Fallen Beech 1 + The Haunted Woodland 3 + Discovery 4 + Comradery 5 + Occult 6 + Wood-Words 7 + The Wind at Night 10 + Airy Tongues 11 + The Hills 13 + Imperfection 14 + Arcanna 15 + Spring 15 + Response 16 + Fulfillment 16 + Transformation 17 + Omens 17 + Abandoned 18 + The Creek Road 19 + The Covered Bridge 19 + The Hillside Grave 20 + Simulacra 20 + Before the End 21 + Winter 21 + Hoar Frost 22 + The Winter Moon 22 + In Summer 23 + Rain and Wind 24 + Under Arcturus 25 + October 27 + Bare Boughs 28 + A Threnody 30 + Snow 31 + Vagabonds 31 + An Old Song 32 + A Rose o' the Hills 33 + Dirge 34 + Rest 35 + Clairvoyance 36 + Indifference 37 + Pictured 37 + Serenade 38 + Kinship 39 + She is So Much 40 + Her Eyes 41 + Messengers 42 + At Twenty-One 43 + Baby Mary 44 + A Motive in Gold and Gray 45 + A Reed Shaken with the Wind 50 + A Flower of the Fields 71 + The White Vigil 73 + Too Late 74 + Intimations 74 + Two 80 + Tones 81 + Unfulfilled 83 + Home 86 + Ashly Mere 87 + Before the Tomb 88 + Revisited 89 + At Vespers 91 + The Creek 92 + Answered 93 + Woman's Portion 95 + Finale 97 + The Cross 98 + The Forest of Dreams 99 + Lynchers 101 + Ku Klux 102 + Rembrandts 103 + The Lady of The Hills 104 + Revealment 106 + Heart's Encouragement 107 + Nightfall 108 + Pause 108 + Above the Vales 109 + A Sunset Fancy 110 + The Fen-Fire 110 + To One Reading the Morte D'Arthure 111 + Strollers 112 + Haunted 114 + Præterita 115 + The Swashbuckler 115 + The Witch 116 + The Somnambulist 116 + Opium 117 + Music and Sleep 118 + Ambition 118 + Despondency 119 + Despair 119 + Sin 120 + Insomnia 120 + Encouragement 121 + Quatrains 122 + A Last Word 123 + + + + +THE GARDEN OF DREAMS + + + + +A FALLEN BEECH + + + Nevermore at doorways that are barken + Shall the madcap wind knock and the noonlight; + Nor the circle, which thou once didst darken, + Shine with footsteps of the neighboring moonlight, + Visitors for whom thou oft didst hearken. + + Nevermore, gallooned with cloudy laces, + Shall the morning, like a fair freebooter, + Make thy leaves his richest treasure-places; + Nor the sunset, like a royal suitor, + Clothe thy limbs with his imperial graces. + + And no more, between the savage wonder + Of the sunset and the moon's up-coming, + Shall the storm, with boisterous hoof-beats, under + Thy dark roof dance, Faun-like, to the humming + Of the Pan-pipes of the rain and thunder. + + Oft the satyr spirit, beauty-drunken, + Of the Spring called; and the music-measure + Of thy sap made answer; and thy sunken + Veins grew vehement with youth, whose pressure + Swelled thy gnarly muscles, winter-shrunken. + + And the germs, deep down in darkness rooted, + Bubbled green from all thy million oilets, + Where the spirits, rain-and-sunbeam-suited, + Of the April made their whispering toilets, + Or within thy stately shadow footed. + + Oft the hours of blonde Summer tinkled + At the windows of thy twigs, and found thee + Bird-blithe; or, with shapely bodies, twinkled + Lissom feet of naked flowers around thee, + Where thy mats of moss lay sunbeam-sprinkled. + + And the Autumn with his gipsy-coated + Troop of days beneath thy branches rested, + Swarthy-faced and dark of eye; and throated + Songs of hunting; or with red hand tested + Every nut-bur that above him floated. + + Then the Winter, barren-browed, but rich in + Shaggy followers of frost and freezing, + Made the floor of thy broad boughs his kitchen, + Trapper-like, to camp in; grimly easing + Limbs snow-furred and moccasoned with lichen. + + Now, alas! no more do these invest thee + With the dignity of whilom gladness! + They--unto whose hearts thou once confessed thee + Of thy dreams--now know thee not! and sadness + Sits beside thee where forgot dost rest thee. + + + + +THE HAUNTED WOODLAND + + + Here in the golden darkness + And green night of the woods, + A flitting form I follow, + A shadow that eludes-- + Or is it but the phantom + Of former forest moods? + + The phantom of some fancy + I knew when I was young, + And in my dreaming boyhood, + The wildwood flow'rs among, + Young face to face with Faery + Spoke in no unknown tongue. + + Blue were her eyes, and golden + The nimbus of her hair; + And crimson as a flower + Her mouth that kissed me there; + That kissed and bade me follow, + And smiled away my care. + + A magic and a marvel + Lived in her word and look, + As down among the blossoms + She sate me by the brook, + And read me wonder-legends + In Nature's Story Book. + + Loved fairy-tales forgotten, + She never reads again, + Of beautiful enchantments + That haunt the sun and rain, + And, in the wind and water, + Chant a mysterious strain. + + And so I search the forest, + Wherein my spirit feels, + In tree or stream or flower + Herself she still conceals-- + But now she flies who followed, + Whom Earth no more reveals. + + + + +DISCOVERY + + + What is it now that I shall seek, + Where woods dip downward, in the hills?-- + A mossy nook, a ferny creek, + And May among the daffodils. + + Or in the valley's vistaed glow, + Past rocks of terraced trumpet-vines, + Shall I behold her coming slow, + Sweet May, among the columbines? + + With redbud cheeks and bluet eyes, + Big eyes, the homes of happiness, + To meet me with the old surprise, + Her hoiden hair all bonnetless. + + Who waits for me, where, note for note, + The birds make glad the forest-trees? + A dogwood blossom at her throat, + My May among the anemones. + + As sweetheart breezes kiss the blooms, + And dewdrops drink the moonlight's gleams, + My soul shall kiss her lips' perfumes, + And drink the magic of her dreams. + + + + +COMRADERY + + + With eyes hand-arched he looks into + The morning's face, then turns away + With schoolboy feet, all wet with dew, + Out for a holiday. + + The hill brook sings, incessant stars, + Foam-fashioned, on its restless breast; + And where he wades its water-bars + Its song is happiest. + + A comrade of the chinquapin, + He looks into its knotted eyes + And sees its heart; and, deep within, + Its soul that makes him wise. + + The wood-thrush knows and follows him, + Who whistles up the birds and bees; + And 'round him all the perfumes swim + Of woodland loam and trees. + + Where'er he pass the supple springs' + Foam-people sing the flowers awake; + And sappy lips of bark-clad things + Laugh ripe each fruited brake. + + His touch is a companionship; + His word, an old authority: + He comes, a lyric at his lip, + Unstudied Poesy. + + + + +OCCULT + + + Unto the soul's companionship + Of things that only seem to be, + Earth points with magic fingertip + And bids thee see + How Fancy keeps thee company. + + For oft at dawn hast not beheld + A spirit of prismatic hue + Blow wide the buds, which night has swelled? + And stain them through + With heav'n's ethereal gold and blue? + + While at her side another went + With gleams of enigmatic white? + A spirit who distributes scent, + To vale and height, + In footsteps of the rosy light? + + And oft at dusk hast thou not seen + The star-fays bring their caravans + Of dew, and glitter all the green, + Night's shadow tans, + From many starbeam sprinkling-cans? + + Nor watched with these the elfins go + Who tune faint instruments? whose sound + Is that moon-music insects blow + When all the ground + Sleeps, and the night is hushed around? + + + + +WOOD-WORDS + + +I. + + The spirits of the forest, + That to the winds give voice-- + I lie the livelong April day + And wonder what it is they say + That makes the leaves rejoice. + + The spirits of the forest, + That breathe in bud and bloom-- + I walk within the black-haw brake + And wonder how it is they make + The bubbles of perfume. + + The spirits of the forest, + That live in every spring-- + I lean above the brook's bright blue + And wonder what it is they do + That makes the water sing. + + The spirits of the forest. + That haunt the sun's green glow-- + Down fungus ways of fern I steal + And wonder what they can conceal, + In dews, that twinkles so. + + The spirits of the forest, + They hold me, heart and hand-- + And, oh! the bird they send by light, + The jack-o'-lantern gleam by night, + To guide to Fairyland! + + +II. + + The time when dog-tooth violets + Hold up inverted horns of gold,-- + The elvish cups that Spring upsets + With dripping feet, when April wets + The sun-and-shadow-marbled wold,-- + + Is come. And by each leafing way + The sorrel drops pale blots of pink; + And, like an angled star a fay + Sets on her forehead's pallid day, + The blossoms of the trillium wink. + + Within the vale, by rock and stream,-- + A fragile, fairy porcelain,-- + Blue as a baby's eyes a-dream, + The bluets blow; and gleam in gleam + The sun-shot dog-woods flash with rain. + + It is the time to cast off care; + To make glad intimates of these:-- + The frank-faced sunbeam laughing there; + The great-heart wind, that bids us share + The optimism of the trees. + + +III. + + The white ghosts of the flowers, + The green ghosts of the trees: + They haunt the blooming bowers, + They haunt the wildwood hours, + And whisper in the breeze. + + For in the wildrose places, + And on the beechen knoll, + My soul hath seen their faces, + My soul hath met their races, + And felt their dim control. + + +IV. + + Crab-apple buds, whose bells + The mouth of April kissed; + That hang,--like rosy shells + Around a naiad's wrist,-- + Pink as dawn-tinted mist. + + And paw-paw buds, whose dark + Deep auburn blossoms shake + On boughs,--as 'neath the bark + A dryad's eyes awake,-- + Brown as a midnight lake. + + These, with symbolic blooms + Of wind-flower and wild-phlox, + I found among the glooms + Of hill-lost woods and rocks, + Lairs of the mink and fox. + + The beetle in the brush, + The bird about the creek, + The bee within the hush, + And I, whose heart was meek, + Stood still to hear these speak. + + The language, that records, + In flower-syllables, + The hieroglyphic words + Of beauty, who enspells + The world and aye compels. + + + + +THE WIND AT NIGHT + + +I. + + Not till the wildman wind is shrill, + Howling upon the hill + In every wolfish tree, whose boisterous boughs, + Like desperate arms, gesture and beat the night, + And down huge clouds, in chasms of stormy white + The frightened moon hurries above the house, + Shall I lie down; and, deep,-- + Letting the mad wind keep + Its shouting revel round me,--fall asleep. + + +II. + + Not till its dark halloo is hushed, + And where wild waters rushed,-- + Like some hoofed terror underneath its whip + And spur of foam,--remains + A ghostly glass, hill-framed; whereover stains + Of moony mists and rains, + And stealthy starbeams, like vague specters, slip; + Shall I--with thoughts that take + Unto themselves the ache + Of silence as a sound--from sleep awake. + + + + +AIRY TONGUES + + +I. + + I hear a song the wet leaves lisp + When Morn comes down the woodland way; + And misty as a thistle-wisp + Her gown gleams windy gray; + A song, that seems to say, + "Awake! 'tis day!" + + I hear a sigh, when Day sits down + Beside the sunlight-lulled lagoon; + While on her glistening hair and gown + The rose of rest is strewn; + A sigh, that seems to croon, + "Come sleep! 'tis noon!" + + I hear a whisper, when the stars, + Upon some evening-purpled height, + Crown the dead Day with nenuphars + Of dreamy gold and white; + A voice, that seems t' invite, + "Come love! 'tis night!" + + +II. + + Before the rathe song-sparrow sings + Among the hawtrees in the lane, + And to the wind the locust flings + Its early clusters fresh with rain; + Beyond the morning-star, that swings + Its rose of fire above the spire, + Between the morning's watchet wings, + A voice that rings o'er brooks and boughs-- + "Arouse! arouse!" + + Before the first brown owlet cries + Among the grape-vines on the hill, + And in the dam with half-shut eyes + The lilies rock above the mill; + Beyond the oblong moon, that flies + Its pearly flower above the tower, + Between the twilight's primrose skies, + A voice that sighs from east to west-- + "To rest! to rest!" + + + + +THE HILLS + + + There is no joy of earth that thrills + My bosom like the far-off hills! + Th' unchanging hills, that, shadowy, + Beckon our mutability + To follow and to gaze upon + Foundations of the dusk and dawn. + Meseems the very heavens are massed + Upon their shoulders, vague and vast + With all the skyey burden of + The winds and clouds and stars above. + Lo, how they sit before us, seeing + The laws that give all Beauty being! + Behold! to them, when dawn is near, + The nomads of the air appear, + Unfolding crimson camps of day + In brilliant bands; then march away; + And under burning battlements + Of twilight plant their tinted tents. + The faith of olden myths, that brood + By haunted stream and haunted wood, + They see; and feel the happiness + Of old at which we only guess: + The dreams, the ancients loved and knew, + Still as their rocks and trees are true: + Not otherwise than presences + The tempest and the calm to these: + One shouting on them, all the night, + Black-limbed and veined with lambent light: + The other with the ministry + Of all soft things that company + With music--an embodied form, + Giving to solitude the charm + Of leaves and waters and the peace + Of bird-begotten melodies-- + And who at night doth still confer + With the mild moon, who telleth her + Pale tale of lonely love, until + Wan images of passion fill + The heights with shapes that glimmer by + Clad on with sleep and memory. + + + + +IMPERFECTION + + + Not as the eye hath seen, shall we behold + Romance and beauty, when we've passed away; + That robed the dull facts of the intimate day + In life's wild raiment of unusual gold: + Not as the ear hath heard, shall we be told, + Hereafter, myth and legend once that lay + Warm at the heart of Nature, clothing clay + In attribute of no material mold. + These were imperfect of necessity, + That wrought thro' imperfection for far ends + Of perfectness--As calm philosophy, + Teaching a child, from his high heav'n descends + To Earth's familiar things; informingly + Vesting his thoughts with that it comprehends. + + + + +ARCANNA + + + Earth hath her images of utterance, + Her hieroglyphic meanings which elude; + A symbol language of similitude, + Into whose secrets science may not glance; + In which the Mind-in-Nature doth romance + In miracles that baffle if pursued-- + No guess shall search them and no thought intrude + Beyond the limits of her sufferance. + So doth the great Intelligence above + Hide His own thought's creations; and attire + Forms in the dream's ideal, which He dowers + With immaterial loveliness and love-- + As essences of fragrance and of fire-- + Preaching th' evangels of the stars and flowers. + + + + +SPRING + + + First came the rain, loud, with sonorous lips; + A pursuivant who heralded a prince: + And dawn put on a livery of tints, + And dusk bound gold about her hair and hips: + And, all in silver mail, then sunlight came, + A knight, who bade the winter let him pass, + And freed imprisoned beauty, naked as + The Court of Love, in all her wildflower shame. + And so she came, in breeze-borne loveliness, + Across the hills; and heav'n bent down to bless: + Before her face the birds were as a lyre; + And at her feet, like some strong worshiper, + The shouting water pæan'd praise of her, + Who, with blue eyes, set the wild world on fire. + + + + +RESPONSE + + + There is a music of immaculate love, + That breathes within the virginal veins of Spring:-- + And trillium blossoms, like the stars that cling + To fairies' wands; and, strung on sprays above, + White-hearts and mandrake blooms, that look enough + Like the elves' washing, white with laundering + Of May-moon dews; and all pale-opening + Wild-flowers of the woods, are born thereof. + There is no sod Spring's white foot brushes but + Must feel the music that vibrates within, + And thrill to the communicated touch + Responsive harmonies, that must unshut + The heart of beauty for song's concrete kin, + Emotions--that be flowers--born of such. + + + + +FULFILLMENT + + + Yes, there are some who may look on these + Essential peoples of the earth and air-- + That have the stars and flowers in their care-- + And all their soul-suggestive secrecies: + Heart-intimates and comrades of the trees, + Who from them learn, what no known schools declare, + God's knowledge; and from winds, that discourse there, + God's gospel of diviner mysteries: + To whom the waters shall divulge a word + Of fuller faith; the sunset and the dawn + Preach sermons more inspired even than + The tongues of Penticost; as, distant heard + In forms of change, through Nature upward drawn, + God doth address th' immortal soul of Man. + + + + +TRANSFORMATION + + + It is the time when, by the forest falls, + The touchmenots hang fairy folly-caps; + When ferns and flowers fill the lichened laps + Of rocks with color, rich as orient shawls: + And in my heart I hear a voice that calls + Me woodward, where the Hamadryad wraps + Her limbs in bark, or, bubbling in the saps, + Laughs the sweet Greek of Pan's old madrigals. + There is a gleam that lures me up the stream-- + A Naiad swimming with wet limbs of light? + Perfume, that leads me on from dream to dream-- + An Oread's footprints fragrant with her flight? + And, lo! meseems I am a Faun again, + Part of the myths that I pursue in vain. + + + + +OMENS + + + Sad o'er the hills the poppy sunset died. + Slow as a fungus breaking through the crusts + Of forest leaves, the waning half-moon thrusts, + Through gray-brown clouds, one milky silver side; + In her vague light the dogwoods, vale-descried, + Seem nervous torches flourished by the gusts; + The apple-orchards seem the restless dusts + Of wind-thinned mists upon the hills they hide. + It is a night of omens whom late May + Meets, like a wraith, among her train of hours; + An apparition, with appealing eye + And hesitant foot, that walks a willowed way, + And, speaking through the fading moon and + flowers, + Bids her prepare her gentle soul to die. + + + + +ABANDONED + + + The hornets build in plaster-dropping rooms, + And on its mossy porch the lizard lies; + Around its chimneys slow the swallow flies, + And on its roof the locusts snow their blooms. + Like some sad thought that broods here, old perfumes + Haunt its dim stairs; the cautious zephyr tries + Each gusty door, like some dead hand, then sighs + With ghostly lips among the attic glooms. + And now a heron, now a kingfisher, + Flits in the willows where the riffle seems + At each faint fall to hesitate to leap, + Fluttering the silence with a little stir. + Here Summer seems a placid face asleep, + And the near world a figment of her dreams. + + + + +THE CREEK-ROAD + + + Calling, the heron flies athwart the blue + That sleeps above it; reach on rocky reach + Of water sings by sycamore and beech, + In whose warm shade bloom lilies not a few. + It is a page whereon the sun and dew + Scrawl sparkling words in dawn's delicious speech; + A laboratory where the wood-winds teach, + Dissect each scent and analyze each hue. + Not otherwise than beautiful, doth it + Record the happ'nings of each summer day; + Where we may read, as in a catalogue, + When passed a thresher; when a load of hay; + Or when a rabbit; or a bird that lit; + And now a bare-foot truant and his dog. + + + + +THE COVERED BRIDGE + + + There, from its entrance, lost in matted vines,-- + Where in the valley foams a water-fall,--- + Is glimpsed a ruined mill's remaining wall; + Here, by the road, the oxeye daisy mines + Hot brass and bronze; the trumpet-trailer shines + Red as the plumage of the cardinal. + Faint from the forest comes the rain-crow's call + Where dusty Summer dreams among the pines. + This is the spot where Spring writes wildflower verses + In primrose pink, while, drowsing o'er his reins, + The ploughman, all unnoticing, plods along: + And where the Autumn opens weedy purses + Of sleepy silver, while the corn-heaped wains + Rumble the bridge like some deep throat of song. + + + + +THE HILLSIDE GRAVE + + + Ten-hundred deep the drifted daisies break + Here at the hill's foot; on its top, the wheat + Hangs meagre-bearded; and, in vague retreat, + The wisp-like blooms of the moth-mulleins shake. + And where the wild-pink drops a crimson flake, + And morning-glories, like young lips, make sweet + The shaded hush, low in the honeyed heat, + The wild-bees hum; as if afraid to wake + One sleeping there; with no white stone to tell + The story of existence; but the stem + Of one wild-rose, towering o'er brier and weed, + Where all the day the wild-birds requiem; + Within whose shade the timid violets spell + An epitaph, only the stars can read. + + + + +SIMULACRA + + + Dark in the west the sunset's somber wrack + Unrolled vast walls the rams of war had split, + Along whose battlements the battle lit + Tempestuous beacons; and, with gates hurled back, + A mighty city, red with ruin and sack, + Through burning breaches, crumbling bit by bit, + Showed where the God of Slaughter seemed to sit + With conflagration glaring at each crack. + Who knows? perhaps as sleep unto us makes + Our dreams as real as our waking seems + With recollections time can not destroy, + So in the mind of Nature now awakes + Haply some wilder memory, and she dreams + The stormy story of the fall of Troy. + + + + +BEFORE THE END + + + How does the Autumn in her mind conclude + The tragic masque her frosty pencil writes, + Broad on the pages of the days and nights, + In burning lines of orchard, wold, and wood? + What lonelier forms--that at the year's door stood + At spectral wait--with wildly wasted lights + Shall enter? and with melancholy rites + Inaugurate their sadder sisterhood?-- + Sorrow, who lifts a signal hand, and slow + The green leaf fevers, falling ere it dies; + Regret, whose pale lips summon, and gaunt Woe + Wakes the wild-wind harps with sonorous sighs; + And Sleep, who sits with poppied eyes and sees + The earth and sky grow dream-accessories. + + + + +WINTER + + + The flute, whence Autumn's misty finger-tips + Drew music--ripening the pinched kernels in + The burly chestnut and the chinquapin, + Red-rounding-out the oval haws and hips,-- + Now Winter crushes to his stormy lips + And surly songs whistle around his chin: + Now the wild days and wilder nights begin + When, at the eaves, the crooked icicle drips. + Thy songs, O Autumn, are not lost so soon! + Still dwells a memory in thy hollow flute, + Which, unto Winter's masculine airs, doth give + Thy own creative qualities of tune, + By which we see each bough bend white with fruit, + Each bush with bloom, in snow commemorative. + + + + +HOAR-FROST + + + The frail eidolons of all blossoms Spring, + Year after year, about the forest tossed, + The magic touch of the enchanter, Frost, + Back from the Heaven of the Flow'rs doth bring; + Each branch and bush in silence visiting + With phantom beauty of its blooms long lost: + Each dead weed bends, white-haunted of its ghost, + Each dead flower stands ghostly with blossoming. + This is the wonder-legend Nature tells + To the gray moon and mist a winter's night; + The fairy-tale, which her weird fancy 'spells + With all the glamour of her soul's delight: + Before the summoning sorcery of her eyes + Making her spirit's dream materialize. + + + + +THE WINTER MOON + + + Deep in the dell I watched her as she rose, + A face of icy fire, o'er the hills; + With snow-sad eyes to freeze the forest rills, + And snow-sad feet to bleach the meadow snows: + Pale as some young witch who, a-listening, goes + To her first meeting with the Fiend; whose fears + Fix demon eyes behind each bush she nears; + Stops, yet must on, fearful of following foes. + And so I chased her, startled in the wood, + Like a discovered Oread, who flies + The Faun who found her sleeping, each nude limb + Glittering betrayal through the solitude; + Till in a frosty cloud I saw her swim, + Like a drowned face, a blur beneath the ice. + + + + +IN SUMMER + + + When in dry hollows, hilled with hay, + The vesper-sparrow sings afar; + And, golden gray, dusk dies away + Beneath the amber evening-star: + There, where a warm and shadowy arm + The woodland lays around the farm, + To meet you where we kissed, dear heart, + To kiss you at the tryst, dear heart, + To kiss you at the tryst! + + When clover fields smell cool with dew, + And crickets cry, and roads are still; + And faint and few the fire-flies strew + The dark where calls the whippoorwill; + There, in the lane, where sweet again + The petals of the wild-rose rain, + To stroll with head to head, dear heart, + And say the words oft said, dear heart, + And say the words oft said! + + + + +RAIN AND WIND + + + I hear the hoofs of horses + Galloping over the hill, + Galloping on and galloping on, + When all the night is shrill + With wind and rain that beats the pane-- + And my soul with awe is still. + + For every dripping window + Their headlong rush makes bound, + Galloping up, and galloping by, + Then back again and around, + Till the gusty roofs ring with their hoofs, + And the draughty cellars sound. + + And then I hear black horsemen + Hallooing in the night; + Hallooing and hallooing, + They ride o'er vale and height, + And the branches snap and the shutters clap + With the fury of their flight. + + Then at each door a horseman,-- + With burly bearded lip + Hallooing through the keyhole,-- + Pauses with cloak a-drip; + And the door-knob shakes and the panel quakes + 'Neath the anger of his whip. + + All night I hear their gallop, + And their wild halloo's alarm; + The tree-tops sound and vanes go round + In forest and on farm; + But never a hair of a thing is there-- + Only the wind and storm. + + + + +UNDER ARCTURUS + + +I. + + "I belt the morn with ribboned mist; + With baldricked blue I gird the noon, + And dusk with purple, crimson-kissed, + White-buckled with the hunter's moon. + + "These follow me," the season says: + "Mine is the frost-pale hand that packs + Their scrips, and speeds them on their ways, + With gipsy gold that weighs their backs." + + +II. + + A daybreak horn the Autumn blows, + As with a sun-tanned band he parts + Wet boughs whereon the berry glows; + And at his feet the red-fox starts. + + The leafy leash that holds his hounds + Is loosed; and all the noonday hush + Is startled; and the hillside sounds + Behind the fox's bounding brush. + + When red dusk makes the western sky + A fire-lit window through the firs, + He stoops to see the red-fox die + Among the chestnut's broken burs. + + Then fanfaree and fanfaree, + Down vistas of the afterglow + His bugle rings from tree to tree, + While all the world grows hushed below. + + +III. + + Like some black host the shadows fall, + And darkness camps among the trees; + Each wildwood road, a Goblin Hall, + Grows populous with mysteries. + + Night comes with brows of ragged storm, + And limbs of writhen cloud and mist; + The rain-wind hangs upon her arm + Like some wild girl that will be kissed. + + By her gaunt hand the leaves are shed + Like nightmares an enchantress herds; + And, like a witch who calls the dead, + The hill-stream whirls with foaming words. + + Then all is sudden silence and + Dark fear--like his who can not see, + Yet hears, aye in a haunted land, + Death rattling on a gallow's tree. + + +IV. + + The days approach again; the days, + Whose mantles stream, whose sandals drag; + When in the haze by puddled ways + Each gnarled thorn seems a crookéd hag. + + When rotting orchards reek with rain; + And woodlands crumble, leaf and log; + And in the drizzling yard again + The gourd is tagged with points of fog. + + Oh, let me seat my soul among + Your melancholy moods! and touch + Your thoughts' sweet sorrow without tongue, + Whose silence says too much, too much! + + + + +OCTOBER + + + Long hosts of sunlight, and the bright wind blows + A tourney trumpet on the listed hill: + Past is the splendor of the royal rose + And duchess daffodil. + + Crowned queen of beauty, in the garden's space, + Strong daughter of a bitter race and bold, + A ragged beggar with a lovely face, + Reigns the sad marigold. + + And I have sought June's butterfly for days, + To find it--like a coreopsis bloom-- + Amber and seal, rain-murdered 'neath the blaze + Of this sunflower's plume. + + Here basks the bee; and there, sky-voyaging wings + Dare God's blue gulfs of heaven; the last song, + The red-bird flings me as adieu, still rings + Upon yon pear-tree's prong. + + No angry sunset brims with rosier red + The bowl of heaven than the days, indeed, + Pour in each blossom of this salvia-bed, + Where each leaf seems to bleed. + + And where the wood-gnats dance, a tiny mist, + Above the efforts of the weedy stream, + The girl, October, tired of the tryst, + Dreams a diviner dream. + + One foot just dipping the caressing wave, + One knee at languid angle; locks that drown + Hands nut-stained; hazel-eyed, she lies, and grave, + Watching the leaves drift down. + + + + +BARE BOUGHS + + + O heart, that beat the bird's blithe blood, + The blithe bird's message that pursued, + Now song is dead as last year's bud, + What dost thou in the wood? + + O soul, that kept the brook's glad flow, + The glad brook's word to sun and moon, + What dost thou here where song lies low + As all the dreams of June? + + Where once was heard a voice of song, + The hautboys of the mad winds sing; + Where once a music flowed along, + The rain's wild bugles ring. + + The weedy water frets and ails, + And moans in many a sunless fall; + And, o'er the melancholy, trails + The black crow's eldritch call. + + Unhappy brook! O withered wood! + O days, whom death makes comrades of! + Where are the birds that thrilled the blood + When life struck hands with love? + + A song, one soared against the blue; + A song, one bubbled in the leaves; + A song, one threw where orchards grew + All appled to the eaves. + + But now the birds are flown or dead; + And sky and earth are bleak and gray; + The wild winds sob i' the boughs instead, + The wild leaves sigh i' the way. + + + + +A THRENODY + + +I. + + The rainy smell of a ferny dell, + Whose shadow no sunray flaws, + When Autumn sits in the wayside weeds + Telling her beads + Of haws. + + +II. + + The phantom mist, that is moonbeam-kissed, + On hills where the trees are thinned, + When Autumn leans at the oak-root's scarp, + Playing a harp + Of wind. + + +III. + + The crickets' chirr 'neath brier and burr, + By leaf-strewn pools and streams, + When Autumn stands 'mid the dropping nuts, + With the book, she shuts, + Of dreams. + + +IV. + + The gray "alas" of the days that pass, + And the hope that says "adieu," + A parting sorrow, a shriveled flower, + And one ghost's hour + With you. + + + + +SNOW + + + The moon, like a round device + On a shadowy shield of war, + Hangs white in a heaven of ice + With a solitary star. + + The wind is sunk to a sigh, + And the waters are stern with frost; + And gray, in the eastern sky, + The last snow-cloud is lost. + + White fields, that are winter-starved, + Black woods, that are winter-fraught, + Cold, harsh as a face death-carved + With the iron of some black thought. + + + + +VAGABONDS + + + Your heart's a-tune with April and mine a-tune with June, + So let us go a-roving beneath the summer moon: + Oh, was it in the sunlight, or was it in the rain, + We met among the blossoms within the locust lane? + All that I can remember's the bird that sang aboon, + And with its music in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon. + + A love-word of the wind, dear, of which we'll read the rune, + While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon: + A love-kiss of the water we'll often stop to hear-- + The echoed words and kisses of our own love, my dear: + And all our path shall blossom with wild-rose sweets that swoon, + And with their fragrance in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon. + + It will not be forever, yet merry goes the tune + While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon: + A cabin, in the clearing, of flickering firelight + When old-time lanes we strolled in the winter snows make white: + Where we can nod together above the logs and croon + The songs we sang when roving beneath the summer moon. + + + + +AN OLD SONG + + + It's Oh, for the hills, where the wind's some one + With a vagabond foot that follows! + And a cheer-up hand that he claps upon + Your arm with the hearty words, "Come on! + We'll soon be out of the hollows, + My heart! + We'll soon be out of the hollows!" + + It's Oh, for the songs, where the hope's some one + With a renegade foot that doubles! + And a kindly look that he turns upon + Your face with the friendly laugh, "Come on! + We'll soon be out of the troubles, + My heart! + We'll soon be out of the troubles!" + + + + +A ROSE O' THE HILLS + + + The hills look down on wood and stream, + On orchard-land and farm; + And o'er the hills the azure-gray + Of heaven bends the livelong day + With thoughts of calm and storm. + + On wood and stream the hills look down, + On farm and orchard-land; + And o'er the hills she came to me + Through wildrose-brake and blackberry, + The hill wind hand in hand. + + The hills look down on home and field, + On wood and winding stream; + And o'er the hills she came along, + Upon her lips a woodland song, + And in her eyes, a dream. + + On home and field the hills look down, + On stream and vistaed wood; + And breast-deep, with disordered hair, + Fair in the wildrose tangle there, + A sudden space she stood. + + O hills, that look on rock and road, + On grove and harvest-field, + To whom God giveth rest and peace, + And slumber, that is kin to these, + And visions unrevealed! + + O hills, that look on road and rock, + On field and fruited grove, + What now is mine of peace and rest + In you! since entered at my breast + God's sweet unrest of love! + + + + +DIRGE + + + What shall her silence keep + Under the sun? + Here, where the willows weep + And waters run; + Here, where she lies asleep, + And all is done. + + Lights, when the tree-top swings; + Scents that are sown; + Sounds of the wood-bird's wings; + And the bee's drone: + These be her comfortings + Under the stone. + + What shall watch o'er her here + When day is fled? + Here, when the night is near + And skies are red; + Here, where she lieth dear + And young and dead. + + Shadows, and winds that spill + Dew; and the tune + Of the wild whippoorwill; + And the white moon; + These be the watchers still + Over her stone. + + + + +REST + + + Under the brindled beech, + Deep in the mottled shade, + Where the rocks hang in reach + Flower and ferny blade, + Let him be laid. + + Here will the brooks, that rove + Under the mossy trees, + Grave with the music of + Underworld melodies, + Lap him in peace. + + Here will the winds, that blow + Out of the haunted west, + Gold with the dreams that glow + There on the heaven's breast, + Lull him to rest. + + Here will the stars and moon, + Silent and far and deep, + Old with the mystic rune + Of the slow years that creep, + Charm him with sleep. + + Under the ancient beech, + Deep in the mossy shade, + Where the hill moods may reach, + Where the hill dreams may aid, + Let him be laid. + + + + +CLAIRVOYANCE + + + The sunlight that makes of the heaven + A pathway for sylphids to throng; + The wind that makes harps of the forests + For spirits to smite into song, + Are the image and voice of a vision + That comforts my heart and makes strong. + + I look in one's face, and the shadows + Are lifted: and, lo, I can see, + Through windows of evident being, + That open on eternity, + The form of the essence of Beauty + God clothes with His own mystery. + + I lean to one's voice, and the wrangle + Of living hath pause: and I hear + Through doors of invisible spirit, + That open on light that is clear, + The radiant raiment of Music + In the hush of the heavens sweep near. + + + + +INDIFFERENCE + + + She is so dear the wildflowers near + Each path she passes by, + Are over fain to kiss again + Her feet and then to die. + + She is so fair the wild birds there + That sing upon the bough, + Have learned the staff of her sweet laugh, + And sing no other now. + + Alas! that she should never see, + Should never care to know, + The wildflower's love, the bird's above, + And his, who loves her so! + + + + +PICTURED + + + This is the face of her + I've dreamed of long; + Here in my heart's despair, + This is the face of her + Pictured in song. + + Look on the lily lids, + The eyes of dawn, + Deep as a Nereid's, + Swimming with dewy lids + In waters wan. + + Look on the brows of snow, + The locks brown-bright; + Only young sleep can show + Such brows of placid snow, + Such locks of night. + + The cheeks, like rosy moons, + The lips of fire; + Love thinks no sweeter tunes + Under enchanted moons + Than their desire. + + Loved lips and eyes and hair, + Lo, this is she! + She, who sits smiling there + Over my heart's despair, + Never for me! + + + + +SERENADE + + + The pink rose drops its petals on + The moonlit lawn, the moonlit lawn; + The moon, like some wide rose of white, + Drops down the summer night. + No rose there is + As sweet as this-- + Thy mouth, that greets me with a kiss. + + The lattice of thy casement twines + With jasmine vines, with jasmine vines; + The stars, like jasmine blossoms, lie + About the glimmering sky. + No jasmine tress + Can so caress + As thy white arms' soft loveliness. + + About thy door magnolia blooms + Make sweet the glooms, make sweet the glooms; + A moon-magnolia is the dusk + Closed in a dewy husk. + However much, + No bloom gives such + Soft fragrance as thy bosom's touch. + + The flowers, blooming now, shall pass, + And strew the grass, and strew the grass; + The night, like some frail flower, dawn + Shall soon make gray and wan. + Still, still above, + The flower of + True love shall live forever, love. + + + + +KINSHIP + + +I. + + There is no flower of wood or lea, + No April flower, as fair as she: + O white anemone, who hast + The wind's wild grace, + Know her a cousin of thy race, + Into whose face + A presence like the wind's hath passed. + + +II. + + There is no flower of wood or lea, + No Maytime flower, as fair as she: + O bluebell, tender with the blue + Of limpid skies, + Thy lineage hath kindred ties + In her, whose eyes + The heav'n's own qualities imbue. + + +III. + + There is no flower of wood or lea, + No Juneday flower, as fair as she: + Rose,--odorous with beauty of + Life's first and best,-- + Behold thy sister here confessed! + Whose maiden breast + Is fragrant with the dreams of love. + + + + +SHE IS SO MUCH + + + She is so much to me, to me, + And, oh! I love her so, + I look into my soul and see + How comfort keeps me company + In hopes she, too, may know. + I love her, I love her, I love her, + This I know. + + So dear she is to me, so dear, + And, oh! I love her so, + I listen in my heart and hear + The voice of gladness singing near + In thoughts she, too, may know. + I love her, I love her, I love her, + This I know. + + So much she is to me, so much, + And, oh! I love her so, + In heart and soul I feel the touch + Of angel callers, that are such + Dreams as she, too, may know. + I love her, I love her, I love her, + This I know. + + + + +HER EYES + + + In her dark eyes dreams poetize; + The soul sits lost in love: + There is no thing in all the skies, + To gladden all the world I prize, + Like the deep love in her dark eyes, + Or one sweet dream thereof. + + In her dark eyes, where thoughts arise, + Her soul's soft moods I see: + Of hope and faith, that make life wise; + And charity, whose food is sighs-- + Not truer than her own true eyes + Is truth's divinity. + + In her dark eyes the knowledge lies + Of an immortal sod, + Her soul once trod in angel-guise, + Nor can forget its heavenly ties, + Since, there in Heaven, upon her eyes + Once gazed the eyes of God. + + + + +MESSENGERS + + + The wind, that gives the rose a kiss + With murmured music of the south, + Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this,-- + The wind, that gives the rose a kiss-- + The perfume of her mouth. + + The brook, that mirrors skies and trees, + And echoes in a grottoed place, + Hath held a fairer thing than these,-- + The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,-- + The image of her face. + + O happy wind! O happy brook! + So dear before, so free of cares! + How dearer since her kiss and look,-- + O happy wind! O happy brook!-- + Have blessed you unawares! + + + + +AT TWENTY-ONE + + + The rosy hills of her high breasts, + Whereon, like misty morning, rests + The breathing lace; her auburn hair, + Wherein, a star point sparkling there, + One jewel burns; her eyes, that keep + Recorded dreams of song and sleep; + Her mouth, with whose comparison + The richest rose were poor and wan; + Her throat, her form--what masterpiece + Of man can picture half of these! + She comes! a classic from the hand + Of God! wherethrough I understand + What Nature means and Art and Love, + And all the lovely Myths thereof. + + + + +BABY MARY + +TO LITTLE M. E. C. G. + + + Deep in baby Mary's eyes, + Baby Mary's sweet blue eyes, + Dwell the golden memories + Of the music once her ears + Heard in far-off Paradise; + So she has no time for tears,-- + Baby Mary,-- + Listening to the songs she hears. + + Soft in baby Mary's face, + Baby Mary's lovely face, + If you watch, you, too, may trace + Dreams her spirit-self hath seen + In some far-off Eden-place, + Whence her soul she can not wean,-- + Baby Mary,-- + Dreaming in a world between. + + + + +A MOTIVE IN GOLD AND GRAY + + +I. + + To-night he sees their star burn, dewy-bright, + Deep in the pansy, eve hath made for it, + Low in the west; a placid purple lit + At its far edge with warm auroral light: + Love's planet hangs above a cedared height; + And there in shadow, like gold music writ + Of dusk's dark fingers, scale-like fire-flies flit + Now up, now down the balmy bars of night. + How different from that eve a year ago! + Which was a stormy flower in the hair + Of dolorous day, whose sombre eyes looked, blurred, + Into night's sibyl face, and saw the woe + Of parting near, and imaged a despair, + As now a hope caught from a homing word. + + +II. + + She came unto him--as the springtime does + Unto the land where all lies dead and cold, + Until her rosary of days is told + And beauty, prayer-like, blossoms where death was.-- + Nature divined her coming--yea, the dusk + Seemed thinking of that happiness: behold, + No cloud it had to blot its marigold + Moon, great and golden, o'er the slopes of musk; + Whereon earth's voice made music; leaf and stream + Lilting the same low lullaby again, + To coax the wind, who romped among the hills + All day, a tired child, to sleep and dream: + When through the moonlight of the locust-lane + She came, as spring comes through her daffodils. + + +III. + + White as a lily molded of Earth's milk + That eve the moon swam in a hyacinth sky; + Soft in the gleaming glens the wind went by, + Faint as a phantom clothed in unseen silk: + Bright as a naiad's leap, from shine to shade, + The runnel twinkled through the shaken brier; + Above the hills one long cloud, pulsed with fire, + Flashed like a great, enchantment-welded blade. + And when the western sky seemed some weird land, + And night a witching spell at whose command + One sloping star fell green from heav'n; and deep + The warm rose opened for the moth to sleep; + Then she, consenting, laid her hands in his, + And lifted up her lips for their first kiss. + + +IV. + + There where they part, the porch's step is strewn + With wind-tossed petals of the purple vine; + Athwart the porch the shadow of a pine + Cleaves the white moonlight; and, like some calm rune + Heaven says to Earth, shines the majestic moon; + And now a meteor draws a lilac line + Across the welkin, as if God would sign + The perfect poem of this night of June. + The wood-wind stirs the flowering chestnut-tree, + Whose curving blossoms strew the glimmering grass + Like crescents that wind-wrinkled waters glass; + And, like a moonstone in a frill of flame, + The dew-drop trembles on the peony, + As in a lover's heart his sweetheart's name. + + +V. + + In after years shall she stand here again, + In heart regretful? and with lonely sighs + Think on that night of love, and realize + Whose was the fault whence grew the parting pain? + And, in her soul, persuading still in vain, + Shall doubt take shape, and all its old surmise + Bid darker phantoms of remorse arise + Trailing the raiment of a dead disdain? + Masks, unto whom shall her avowal yearn, + With looks clairvoyant seeing how each is + A different form, with eyes and lips that burn + Into her heart with love's last look and kiss?-- + And, ere they pass, shall she behold them turn + To her a face which evermore is his? + + +VI. + + In after years shall he remember how + Dawn had no breeze soft as her murmured name? + And day no sunlight that availed the same + As her bright smile to cheer the world below? + Nor had the conscious twilight's golds and grays + Her soul's allurement, that was free of blame,-- + Nor dusk's gold canvas, where one star's white flame + Shone, more bewitchment than her own sweet ways.-- + Then as the night with moonlight and perfume, + And dew and darkness, qualifies the whole + Dim world with glamour, shall the past with dreams-- + That were the love-theme of their lives--illume + The present with remembered hours, whose gleams, + Unknown to him, shall face them soul to soul? + + +VII. + + No! not for her and him that part;---the Might- + Have-Been's sad consolation;--where had bent, + Haply, in prayer and patience penitent, + Both, though apart, before no blown-out light. + The otherwise of fate for them, when white + The lilacs bloom again, and, innocent, + Spring comes with beauty for her testament, + Singing the praises of the day and night. + When orchards blossom and the distant hill + Is vague with haw-trees as a ridge with mist, + The moon shall see him where a watch he keeps + By her young form that lieth white and still, + With lidded eyes and passive wrist on wrist, + While by her side he bows himself and weeps. + + +VIII. + + And, oh, what pain to see the blooms appear + Of haw and dogwood in the spring again; + The primrose leaning with the dragging rain, + And hill-locked orchards swarming far and near. + To see the old fields, that her steps made dear, + Grow green with deepening plenty of the grain, + Yet feel how this excess of life is vain,-- + How vain to him!--since she no more is here. + What though the woodland burgeon, water flow, + Like a rejoicing harp, beneath the boughs! + The cat-bird and the hermit-thrush arouse + Day with the impulsive music of their love! + Beneath the graveyard sod she will not know, + Nor what his heart is all too conscious of! + + +IX. + + How blessed is he who, gazing in the tomb, + Can yet behold, beneath th' investing mask + Of mockery,--whose horror seems to ask + Sphinx-riddles of the soul within the gloom,-- + Upon dead lips no dust of Love's dead bloom; + And in dead hands no shards of Faith's rent flask; + But Hope, who still stands at her starry task, + Weaving the web of comfort on her loom! + Thrice blessed! who, 'though he hear the tomb proclaim, + How all is Death's and Life Death's other name; + Can yet reply: "O Grave, these things are yours! + But that is left which life indeed assures-- + Love, through whose touch I shall arise the same! + Love, of whose self was wrought the universe!" + + + + +A REED SHAKEN WITH THE WIND + + +I. + + Not for you and me the path + Winding through the shadowless + Fields of morning's dewiness! + Where the brook, that hurries, hath + Laughter lighter than a boy's; + Where recurrent odors poise, + Romp-like, with irreverent tresses, + In the sun; and birds and boughs + Build a music-haunted house + For the winds to hang their dresses, + Whisper-silken, rustling in. + Ours a path that led unto + Twilight regions gray with dew; + Where moon-vapors gathered thin + Over acres sisterless + Of all healthy beauty; where + Fungus growths made sad the air + With a phantom-like caress: + Under darkness and strange stars, + To the sorrow-silenced bars + Of a dubious forestland, + Where the wood-scents seemed to stand, + And the sounds, on either hand, + Clad like sleep's own servitors + In the shadowy livery + Of the ancient house of dreams; + That before us,--fitfully, + With white intermittent gleams + Of its pale-lamped windows,--shone; + Echoing with the dim unknown. + + +II. + + To say to hope,--Take all from me, + And grant me naught: + The rose, the song, the melody, + The word, the thought: + Then all my life bid me be slave,-- + Is all I crave. + + To say to time,--Be true to me, + Nor grant me less + The dream, the sigh, the memory, + The heart's distress; + Then unto death set me a task, + Is all I ask. + + +III. + + I came to you when eve was young. + And, where the park went downward to + The river, and, among the dew, + One vesper moment lit and sung + A bird, your eyes said something dear. + How sweet it was to walk with you! + How, with our souls, we seemed to hear + The darkness coming with its stars! + How calm the moon sloped up her sphere + Of fire-filled pearl through passive bars + Of clouds that berged the tender east! + While all the dark inanimate + Of nature woke; initiate + With th' moon's arrival, something ceased + In nature's soul; she stood again + Another self, that seemed t' have been + Dormant, suppressed and so unseen + All day; a life, unknown and strange + And dream-suggestive, that had lain,-- + Masked on with light,--within the range + Of thought, but unrevealed till now. + It was the hour of love. And you, + With downward eyes and pensive brow, + Among the moonlight and the dew,-- + Although no word of love was spoken,-- + Heard the sweet night's confession broken + Of something here that spoke in me; + A love, depth made inaudible, + Save to your soul, that answered well, + With eyes replying silently. + + +IV. + + Fair you are as a rose is fair, + There where the shadows dew it; + And the deeps of your brown, brown hair, + Sweet as the cloud that lingers there + With the sunset's auburn through it. + Eyes of azure and throat of snow, + Tell me what my heart would know! + + Every dream I dream of you + Has a love-thought in it, + And a hope, a kiss or two, + Something dear and something true, + Telling me each minute, + With three words it whispers clear, + What my heart from you would hear. + + +V. + + Summer came; the days grew kind + With increasing favors; deep + Were the nights with rest and sleep: + Fair, with poppies intertwined + On their blonde locks, dreamy hours, + Sunny-hearted as the rose, + Went among the banded flowers, + Teaching them, how no one knows, + Fresher color and perfume.-- + In the window of your room + Bloomed a rich azalea. Pink, + As an egret's rosy plumes, + Shone its tender-tufted blooms. + From your care and love, I think, + Love's rose-color it did drink, + Growing rosier day by day + Of your 'tending hand's caress; + And your own dear naturalness + Had imbued it in some way. + Once you gave a blossom of it, + Smiling, to me when I left: + Need I tell you how I love it + Faded though it is now!--Reft + Of its fragrance and its color, + Yet 'tis dearer now than then, + As past happiness is when + We regret. And dimmer, duller + Though its beauty be, when I + Look upon it, I recall + Every part of that old wall; + And the dingy window high, + Where you sat and read; and all + The fond love that made your face + A soft sunbeam in that place: + And the plant, that grew this bloom + Withered here, itself long dead, + Makes a halo overhead + There again--and through my room, + Like faint whispers of perfume, + Steal the words of love then said. + + +VI. + + All of my love I send to you, + I send to you, + On thoughts, like paths, that wend to you, + Here in my heart's glad garden, + Wherein, its lovely warden, + Your face, a lily seeming, + Is dreaming. + + All of my life I bring to you, + I bring to you, + In deeds, like birds, that sing to you, + Here, in my soul's sweet valley, + Wherethrough, most musically, + Your love, a fountain, glistens, + And listens. + + My love, my life, how blessed in you! + How blessed in you! + Whose thoughts, whose deeds find rest in you, + Here, on my self's dark ocean, + Whereo'er, in heavenly motion, + Your soul, a star, abideth, + And guideth. + + +VII. + + Where the old Kentucky wound + Through the land,--its stream between + Hills of primitive forest green,-- + Like a goodly belt around + Giant breasts of grandeur; with + Many an unknown Indian myth, + On the boat we steamed. The land + Like an hospitable hand + Welcomed us. Alone we sat + On the under-deck, and saw + Farm-house and plantation draw + Near and vanish. 'Neath your hat, + Your young eyes laughed; and your hair, + Blown about them by the air + Of our passage, clung and curled. + Music, and the summer moon; + And the hills' great shadows hewn + Out of silence; and the tune + Of the whistle, when we whirled + Round a moonlit bend in sight of + Some lone landing heaped with hay + Or tobacco; where the light of + One dim solitary lamp + Signaled through the evening's damp: + Then a bell; and, dusky gray, + Shuffling figures on the shore + With the cable; rugged forms + On the gang-plank; backs and arms + With their cargo bending o'er; + And the burly mate before. + Then an iron bell, and puff + Of escaping steam; and out + Where the stream is wheel-whipped rough; + Music, and a parting shout + From the shore; the pilot's bell + Beating on the deck below; + Then the steady, quivering, slow + Smooth advance again. Until + Twinkling lights beyond us tell + There's a lock or little town, + Clasped between a hill and hill, + Where the blue-grass fields slope down.-- + So we went. That summer-time + Lingers with me like a rhyme + Learned for dreamy beauty of + Its old-fashioned faith and love, + In some musing moment; sith + Heart-associated with + Joy that moment's quiet bore, + Thought repeated evermore. + + +VIII. + + Three sweet things love lives upon: + Music, at whose fountain's brink + Still he stoops his face to drink; + Seeing, as the wave is drawn, + His own image rise and sink. + Three sweet things love lives upon. + + Three sweet things love lives upon: + Odor, whose red roses wreathe + His bright brow that shines beneath; + Hearing, as each bud is blown, + His own spirit breathe and breathe. + Three sweet things love lives upon. + + Three sweet things love lives upon: + Color, to whose rainbow he + Lifts his dark eyes burningly; + Feeling, as the wild hues dawn, + His own immortality. + Three sweet things love lives upon. + + +IX. + + Memories of other days, + With the whilom happiness, + Rise before my musing gaze + In the twilight ... And your dress + Seems beside me, like a haze + Shimmering white; as when we went + 'Neath the star-strewn firmament, + Love-led, with impatient feet + Down the night that, summer-sweet, + Sparkled o'er the lamp-lit street. + Every look love gave us then + Comes before my eyes again, + Making music for my heart + On that path, that grew for us + Roses, red and amorous, + On that path, from which oft start, + Out of recollected places, + With remembered forms and faces, + Dreams, love's ardent hands have woven + In my life's dark tapestry, + Beckoning, soft and shadowy, + To the soul. And o'er the cloven + Gulf of time, I seem to hear + Words, once whispered in the ear, + Calling--as might friends long dead, + With familiar voices, deep, + Speak to those who lie asleep, + Comforting--So I was led + Backward to forgotten things, + Contiguities that spread + Sudden unremembered wings; + And across my mind's still blue + From the nest they fledged in, flew + Dazzling shapes affection knew. + + +X. + + Ah! over full my heart is + Of sadness and of pain; + As a rose-flower in the garden + The dull dusk fills with rain; + As a blown red rose that shivers + And bends to the wind and rain. + + So give me thy hands and speak me + As once in the days of yore, + When love spoke sweetly to us, + The love that speaks no more; + The sound of thy voice may help him + To speak in our hearts once more. + + Ah! over grieved my soul is, + And tired and sick for sleep, + As a poppy-bloom that withers, + Forgotten, where reapers reap; + As a harvested poppy-flower + That dies where reapers reap. + + So bend to my face and kiss me + As once in the days of yore, + When the touch of thy lips was magic + That restored to life once more; + The thought of thy kiss, which awakens + To life that love once more. + + +XI. + + Sitting often I have, oh! + Often have desired you so-- + Yearned to kiss you as I did + When your love to me you gave, + In the moonlight, by the wave, + And a long impetuous kiss + Pressed upon your mouth that chid, + And upon each dewy lid-- + That, all passion-shaken, I + With love language will address + Each dear thing I know you by, + Picture, needle-work or frame: + Each suggestive in the same + Perfume of past happiness: + Till, meseems, the ways we knew + Now again I tread with you + From the oldtime tryst: and there + Feel the pressure of your hair + Cool and easy on my cheek, + And your breath's aroma: bare + Hand upon my arm, as weak + As a lily on a stream: + And your eyes, that gaze at me + With the sometime witchery, + To my inmost spirit speak. + And remembered ecstacy + Sweeps my soul again ... I seem + Dreaming, yet I do not dream. + + +XII. + + When day dies, lone, forsaken, + And joy is kissed asleep; + When doubt's gray eyes awaken, + And love, with music taken + From hearts with sighings shaken, + Sits in the dusk to weep: + + With ghostly lifted finger + What memory then shall rise?-- + Of dark regret the bringer-- + To tell the sorrowing singer + Of days whose echoes linger, + Till dawn unstars the skies. + + When night is gone and, beaming, + Faith journeys forth to toil; + When hope's blue eyes wake gleaming, + And life is done with dreaming + The dreams that seem but seeming, + Within the world's turmoil: + + Can we forget the presence + Of death who walks unseen? + Whose scythe casts shadowy crescents + Around life's glittering essence, + As lessens, slowly lessens, + The space that lies between. + + +XIII. + + Bland was that October day, + Calm and balmy as the spring, + When we went a forest-way, + 'Neath paternal beeches gray, + To a valleyed opening: + Where the purple aster flowered, + And, like torches shadow-held, + Red the fiery sumach towered; + And, where gum-trees sentineled + Vistas, robed in gold and garnet, + Ripe the thorny chestnut shelled + Its brown plumpness. Bee and hornet + Droned around us; quick the cricket, + Tireless in the wood-rose thicket, + Tremoloed; and, to the wind + All its moon-spun silver casting, + Swung the milk-weed pod unthinned; + And, its clean flame on the sod + By the fading golden-rod, + Burned the white life-everlasting. + It was not so much the time, + Nor the place, nor way we went, + That made all our moods to rhyme, + Nor the season's sentiment, + As it was the innocent + Carefree childhood of our hearts, + Reading each expression of + Death and care as life and love: + That impression joy imparts + Unto others and retorts + On itself, which then made glad + All the sorrow of decay, + As the memory of that day + Makes this day of spring, now, sad. + + +XIV. + + The balsam-breathed petunias + Hang riven of the rain; + And where the tiger-lily was + Now droops a tawny stain; + While in the twilight's purple pause + Earth dreams of Heaven again. + + When one shall sit and sigh, + And one lie all alone + Beneath the unseen sky-- + Whose love shall then deny? + Whose love atone? + + With ragged petals round its pod + The rain-wrecked poppy dies; + And where the hectic rose did nod + A crumbled crimson lies; + While distant as the dreams of God + The stars slip in the skies. + + When one shall lie asleep, + And one be dead and gone-- + Within the unknown deep, + Shall we the trysts then keep + That now are done? + + +XV. + + Holding both your hands in mine, + Often have we sat together, + While, outside, the boisterous weather + Hung the wild wind on the pine + Like a black marauder, and + With a sudden warning hand + At the casement rapped. The night + Read no sentiment of light, + Starbeam-syllabled, within + Her romance of death and sin, + Shadow-chaptered tragicly.-- + Looking in your eyes, ah me! + Though I heard, I did not heed + What the night read unto us, + Threatening and ominous: + For love helped my heart to read + Forward through unopened pages + To a coming day, that held + More for us than all the ages + Past, that it epitomized + In its sentence; where we spelled + What our present realized + Only--all the love that was + Past and yet to be for us. + + +XVI. + + 'Though in the garden, gray with dew, + All life lies withering, + And there's no more to say or do, + No more to sigh or sing, + Yet go we back the ways we knew, + When buds were opening. + + Perhaps we shall not search in vain + Within its wreck and gloom; + 'Mid roses ruined of the rain + There still may live one bloom; + One flower, whose heart may still retain + The long-lost soul-perfume. + + And then, perhaps, will come to us + The dreams we dreamed before; + And song, who spoke so beauteous, + Will speak to us once more; + And love, with eyes all amorous, + Will ope again his door. + + So 'though the garden's gray with dew, + And flowers are withering, + And there's no more to say or do, + No more to sigh or sing, + Yet go we back the ways we knew + When buds were opening. + + +XVII. + + Looking on the desolate street, + Where the March snow drifts and drives, + Trodden black of hurrying feet, + Where the athlete storm-wind strives + With each tree and dangling light,-- + Centers, sphered with glittering white,-- + Hissing in the dancing snow ... + Backward in my soul I go + To that tempest-haunted night + Of two autumns past, when we, + Hastening homeward, were o'ertaken + Of the storm; and 'neath a tree, + With its wild leaves whisper-shaken, + Sheltered us in that forsaken, + Sad and ancient cemetery,-- + Where folk came no more to bury.-- + Haggard grave-stones, mossed and crumbled, + Tottered 'round us, or o'ertumbled + In their sunken graves; and some, + Urned and obelisked above + Iron-fenced in tombs, stood dumb + Records of forgotten love. + And again I see the west + Yawning inward to its core + Of electric-spasmed ore, + Swiftly, without pause or rest. + And a great wind sweeps the dust + Up abandoned sidewalks; and, + In the rotting trees, the gust + Shouts again--a voice that would + Make its gaunt self understood + Moaning over death's lean land. + And we sat there, hand in hand; + On the granite; where we read, + By the leaping skies o'erhead, + Something of one young and dead. + Yet the words begot no fear + In our souls: you leaned your cheek + Smiling on mine: very near + Were our lips: we did not speak. + + +XVIII. + + And suddenly alone I stood + With scared eyes gazing through the wood. + For some still sign of ill or good, + To lead me from the solitude. + + The day was at its twilighting; + One cloud o'erhead spread a vast wing + Of rosy thunder; vanishing + Above the far hills' mystic ring. + + Some stars shone timidly o'erhead; + And toward the west's cadaverous red-- + Like some wild dream that haunts the dead + In limbo--the lean moon was led. + + Upon the sad, debatable + Vague lands of twilight slowly fell + A silence that I knew too well, + A sorrow that I can not tell. + + What way to take, what path to go, + Whether into the east's gray glow, + Or where the west burnt red and low-- + What road to choose, I did not know. + + So, hesitating, there I stood + Lost in my soul's uncertain wood: + One sign I craved of ill or good, + To lead me from its solitude. + + +XIX. + + It was autumn: and a night, + Full of whispers and of mist, + With a gray moon, wanly whist, + Hanging like a phantom light + O'er the hills. We stood among + Windy fields of weed and flower, + Where the withered seed pod hung, + And the chill leaf-crickets sung. + Melancholy was the hour + With the mystery and loneness + Of the year, that seemed to look + On its own departed face; + As our love then, in its oneness, + All its dead past did retrace, + And from that sad moment took + Presage of approaching parting.-- + Sorrowful the hour and dark: + Low among the trees, now starting, + Now concealed, a star's pale spark-- + Like a fen-fire--winked and lured + On to shuddering shadows; where + All was doubtful, unassured, + Immaterial; and the bare + Facts of unideal day + Changed to substance such as dreams. + And meseemed then, far away-- + Farther than remotest gleams + Of the stars--lost, separated, + And estranged, and out of reach, + Grew our lives away from each, + Loving lives, that long had waited. + + +XX. + + There is no gladness in the day + Now you're away; + Dull is the morn, the noon is dull, + Once beautiful; + And when the evening fills the skies + With dusky dyes, + With tired eyes and tired heart + I sit alone, I sigh apart, + And wish for you. + + Ah! darker now the night comes on + Since you are gone; + Sad are the stars, the moon is sad, + Once wholly glad; + And when the stars and moon are set, + And earth lies wet, + With heart's regret and soul's hard ache, + I dream alone, I lie awake, + And wish for you. + + These who once spake me, speak no more, + Now all is o'er; + Day hath forgot the language of + Its hopes of love; + Night, whose sweet lips were burdensome + With dreams, is dumb; + Far different from what used to be, + With silence and despondency + They speak to me. + + +XXI. + + So it ends--the path that crept + Through a land all slumber-kissed; + Where the sickly moonlight slept + Like a pale antagonist. + Now the star, that led us onward,-- + Reassuring with its light,-- + Fails and falters; dipping downward + Leaves us wandering in night, + With old doubts we once disdained ... + So it ends. The woods attained-- + Where our heart's desire builded + A fair temple, fire-gilded, + With hope's marble shrine within, + Where the lineaments of our love + Shone, with lilies clad and crowned, + 'Neath white columns reared above + Sorrow and her sister sin, + Columns, rose and ribbon-wound,-- + In the forest we have found + But a ruin! All around + Lie the shattered capitals, + And vast fragments of the walls ... + Like a climbing cloud,--that plies, + Wind-wrecked, o'er the moon that lies + 'Neath its blackness,--taking on + Gradual certainties of wan, + Soft assaults of easy white, + Pale-approaching; till the skies' + Emptiness and hungry night + Claim its bulk again, while she + Rides in lonely purity: + So we found our temple, broken, + And a musing moment's space + Love, whose latest word was spoken, + Seemed to meet us face to face, + Making bright that ruined place + With a strange effulgence; then + Passed, and left all black again. + + + + +A FLOWER OF THE FIELDS. + + + Bee-bitten in the orchard hung + The peach; or, fallen in the weeds, + Lay rotting: where still sucked and sung + The gray bee, boring to its seed's + Pink pulp and honey blackly stung. + + The orchard path, which led around + The garden,--with its heat one twinge + Of dinning locusts,--picket-bound, + And ragged, brought me where one hinge + Held up the gate that scraped the ground. + + All seemed the same: the martin-box-- + Sun-warped with pigmy balconies-- + Still stood with all its twittering flocks, + Perched on its pole above the peas + And silvery-seeded onion-stocks. + + The clove-pink and the rose; the clump + Of coppery sunflowers, with the heat + Sick to the heart: the garden stump, + Red with geranium-pots and sweet + With moss and ferns, this side the pump. + + I rested, with one hesitant hand + Upon the gate. The lonesome day, + Droning with insects, made the land + One dry stagnation; soaked with hay + And scents of weeds, the hot wind fanned. + + I breathed the sultry scents, my eyes + Parched as my lips. And yet I felt + My limbs were ice. As one who flies + To some strange woe. How sleepy smelt + The hay-sweet heat that soaked the skies! + + Noon nodded; dreamier, lonesomer, + For one long, plaintive, forestside + Bird-quaver.--And I knew me near + Some heartbreak anguish ... She had died. + I felt it, and no need to hear! + + I passed the quince and peartree; where + All up the porch a grape-vine trails-- + How strange that fruit, whatever air + Or earth it grows in, never fails + To find its native flavor there! + + And she was as a flower, too, + That grows its proper bloom and scent + No matter what the soil: she, who, + Born better than her place, still lent + Grace to the lowliness she knew.... + + They met me at the porch, and were + Sad-eyed with weeping. Then the room + Shut out the country's heat and purr, + And left light stricken into gloom-- + So love and I might look on her. + + + + +THE WHITE VIGIL. + + + Last night I dreamed I saw you lying dead, + And by your sheeted form stood all alone: + Frail as a flow'r you lay upon your bed, + And on your still face, through the casement, shone + The moon, as lingering to kiss you there + Fall'n asleep, white violets in your hair. + + Oh, sick to weeping was my soul, and sad + To breaking was my heart that would not break; + And for my soul's great grief no tear I had, + No lamentation for my heart's deep ache; + Yet all I bore seemed more than I could bear + Beside you dead, white violets in your hair. + + A white rose, blooming at your window-bar, + And glimmering in it, like a fire-fly caught + Upon the thorns, the light of one white star, + Looked on with me; as if they felt and thought + As did my heart,--"How beautiful and fair + And young she lies, white violets in her hair!" + + And so we watched beside you, sad and still, + The star, the rose, and I. The moon had past, + Like a pale traveler, behind the hill + With all her echoed radiance. At last + The darkness came to hide my tears and share + My watch by you, white violets in your hair. + + + + +TOO LATE. + + + I looked upon a dead girl's face and heard + What seemed the voice of Love call unto me + Out of her heart; whereon the charactery + Of her lost dreams I read there word for word:-- + How on her soul no soul had touched, or stirred + Her Life's sad depths to rippling melody, + Or made the imaged longing, there, to be + The realization of a hope deferred. + So in her life had Love behaved to her. + Between the lonely chapters of her years + And her young eyes making no golden blur + With god-bright face and hair; who led me to + Her side at last, and bade me, through my tears, + With Death's dumb face, too late, to see and know. + + + + +INTIMATIONS. + + +I. + + Is it uneasy moonlight, + On the restless field, that stirs? + Or wild white meadow-blossoms + The night-wind bends and blurs? + + Is it the dolorous water, + That sobs in the wood and sighs? + Or heart of an ancient oak-tree, + That breaks and, sighing, dies? + + The wind is vague with the shadows + That wander in No-Man's Land; + The water is dark with the voices + That weep on the Unknown's strand. + + O ghosts of the winds who call me! + O ghosts of the whispering waves! + As sad as forgotten flowers, + That die upon nameless graves! + + What is this thing you tell me + In tongues of a twilight race, + Of death, with the vanished features, + Mantled, of my own face? + + +II. + + The old enigmas of the deathless dawns, + And riddles of the all immortal eves,-- + That still o'er Delphic lawns + Speak as the gods spoke through oracular leaves-- + I read with new-born eyes, + Remembering how, a slave, + I lay with breast bared for the sacrifice, + Once on a temple's pave. + + Or, crowned with hyacinth and helichrys, + How, towards the altar in the marble gloom,-- + Hearing the magadis + Dirge through the pale amaracine perfume,-- + 'Mid chanting priests I trod, + With never a sigh or pause, + To give my life to pacify a god, + And save my country's cause. + + Again: Cyrenian roses on wild hair, + And oil and purple smeared on breasts and cheeks, + How with mad torches there-- + Reddening the cedars of Cithæron's peaks-- + With gesture and fierce glance, + Lascivious Mænad bands + Once drew and slew me in the Pyrrhic dance, + With Bacchanalian hands. + + +III. + + The music now that lays + Dim lips against my ears, + Some wild sad thing it says, + Unto my soul, of years + Long passed into the haze + Of tears. + + Meseems, before me are + The dark eyes of a queen, + A queen of Istakhar: + I seem to see her lean + More lovely than a star + Of mien. + + A slave, I stand before + Her jeweled throne; I kneel, + And, in a song, once more + My love for her reveal; + How once I did adore + I feel. + + Again her dark eyes gleam; + Again her red lips smile; + And in her face the beam + Of love that knows no guile; + And so she seems to dream + A while. + + Out of her deep hair then + A rose she takes--and I + Am made a god o'er men! + Her rose, that here did lie + When I, in th' wild-beasts' den, + Did die. + + +IV. + + Old paintings on its wainscots, + And, in its oaken hall, + Old arras; and the twilight + Of slumber over all. + + Old grandeur on its stairways; + And, in its haunted rooms, + Old souvenirs of greatness, + And ghosts of dead perfumes. + + The winds are phantom voices + Around its carven doors; + The moonbeams, specter footsteps + Upon its polished floors. + + Old cedars build around it + A solitude of sighs; + And the old hours pass through it + With immemorial eyes. + + But more than this I know not; + Nor where the house may be; + Nor what its ancient secret + And ancient grief to me. + + All that my soul remembers + Is that,--forgot almost,-- + Once, in a former lifetime, + 'Twas here I loved and lost. + + +V. + + In eöns of the senses, + My spirit knew of yore, + I found the Isle of Circe, + And felt her magic lore; + And still the soul remembers + What flesh would be once more. + + She gave me flowers to smell of + That wizard branches bore, + Of weird and sorcerous beauty, + Whose stems dripped human gore-- + Their scent when I remember + I know that world once more. + + She gave me fruits to eat of + That grew beside the shore, + Of necromantic ripeness, + With human flesh at core-- + Their taste when I remember + I know that life once more. + + And then, behold! a serpent, + That glides my face before, + With eyes of tears and fire + That glare me o'er and o'er-- + I look into its eyeballs, + And know myself once more. + + +VI. + + I have looked in the eyes of poesy, + And sat in song's high place; + And the beautiful spirits of music + Have spoken me face to face; + Yet here in my soul there is sorrow + They never can name nor trace. + + I have walked with the glamour gladness, + And dreamed with the shadow sleep; + And the presences, love and knowledge, + Have smiled in my heart's red keep; + Yet here in my soul there is sorrow + For the depth of their gaze too deep. + + The love and the hope God grants me, + The beauty that lures me on, + And the dreams of folly and wisdom + That thoughts of the spirit don, + Are but masks of an ancient sorrow + Of a life long dead and gone. + + Was it sin? or a crime forgotten? + Of a love that loved too well? + That sat on a throne of fire + A thousand years in hell? + That the soul with its nameless sorrow + Remembers but can not tell? + + + + +TWO. + + + With her soft face half turned to me, + Like an arrested moonbeam, she + Stood in the cirque of that deep tree. + + I took her by the hands; she raised + Her face to mine; and, half amazed, + Remembered; and we stood and gazed. + + How good to kiss her throat and hair, + And say no word!--Her throat was bare; + As some moon-fungus white and fair. + + Had God not giv'n us life for this? + The world-old, amorous happiness + Of arms that clasp, and lips that kiss! + + The eloquence of limbs and arms! + The rhetoric of breasts, whose charms + Say to the sluggish blood what warms! + + Had God or Fiend assigned this hour + That bloomed,--where love had all of power,-- + The senses' aphrodisiac flower? + + The dawn was far away. Nude night + Hung savage stars of sultry white + Around her bosom's Ethiop light. + + Night! night, who gave us each to each, + Where heart with heart could hold sweet speech, + With life's best gift within our reach. + + And here it was--between the goals + Of flesh and spirit, sex controls-- + Took place the marriage of our souls. + + + + +TONES. + + +I. + + A woman, fair to look upon, + Where waters whiten with the moon; + While down the glimmer of the lawn + The white moths swoon. + + A mouth of music; eyes of love; + And hands of blended snow and scent, + That touch the pearl-pale shadow of + An instrument. + + And low and sweet that song of sleep + After the song of love is hushed; + While all the longing, here, to weep, + Is held and crushed. + + Then leafy silence, that is musk + With breath of the magnolia-tree, + While dwindles, moon-white, through the dusk + Her drapery. + + Let me remember how a heart, + Romantic, wrote upon that night! + My soul still helps me read each part + Of it aright. + + And like a dead leaf shut between + A book's dull chapters, stained and dark, + That page, with immemorial green, + Of life I mark. + + +II. + + It is not well for me to hear + That song's appealing melody: + The pain of loss comes all too near, + Through it, to me. + + The loss of her whose love looks through + The mist death's hand hath hung between: + Within the shadow of the yew + Her grave is green. + + Ah, dream that vanished long ago! + Oh, anguish of remembered tears! + And shadow of unlifted woe + Athwart the years! + + That haunt the sad rooms of my days, + As keepsakes of unperished love, + Where pale the memory of her face + Is framed above. + + This olden song, she used to sing, + Of love and sleep, is now a charm + To open mystic doors and bring + Her spirit form. + + In music making visible + One soul-assertive memory, + That steals unto my side to tell + My loss to me. + + + + +UNFULFILLED. + + + In my dream last night it seemed I stood + With a boy's glad heart in my boyhood's wood. + + The beryl green and the cairngorm brown + Of the day through the deep leaves sifted down. + + The rippling drip of a passing shower + Rinsed wild aroma from herb and flower. + + The splash and urge of a waterfall + Spread stairwayed rocks with a crystal caul. + + And I waded the pool where the gravel gray, + And the last year's leaf, like a topaz lay. + + And searched the strip of the creek's dry bed + For the colored keel and the arrow-head. + + And I found the cohosh coigne the same, + Tossing with torches of pearly flame. + + The owlet dingle of vine and brier, + That the butterfly-weed flecked fierce with fire. + + The elder edge with its warm perfume, + And the sapphire stars of the bluet bloom; + + The moss, the fern, and the touch-me-not + I breathed, and the mint-smell keen and hot. + + And I saw the bird, that sang its best, + In the moted sunlight building its nest. + + And I saw the chipmunk's stealthy face, + And the rabbit crouched in a grassy place. + + And I watched the crows, that cawed and cried, + Hunting the hawk at the forest-side; + + The bees that sucked in the blossoms slim, + And the wasps that built on the lichened limb. + + And felt the silence, the dusk, the dread + Of the spot where they buried the unknown dead. + + The water murmur, the insect hum, + And a far bird calling, _Come, oh, come!_-- + + What sweeter music can mortals make + To ease the heart of its human ache!-- + + And it seemed in my dream, that was all too true, + That I met in the woods again with you. + + A sun-tanned face and brown bare knees, + And a hand stained red with dewberries. + + And we stood a moment some thing to tell, + And then in the woods we said farewell. + + But once I met you; yet, lo! it seems + Again and again we meet in dreams. + + And I ask my soul what it all may mean; + If this is the love that should have been. + + And oft and again I wonder, _Can_ + _What God intends be changed by man?_ + + + + +HOME. + + + Among the fields the camomile + Seems blown steam in the lightning's glare. + Unusual odors drench the air. + Night speaks above; the angry smile + Of storm within her stare. + + The way for me to-night?--To-night, + Is through the wood whose branches fill + The road with dripping rain-drops. Till, + Between the boughs, a star-like light-- + Our home upon the hill. + + The path for me to take?--It goes + Around a trailer-tangled rock, + 'Mid puckered pink and hollyhock, + Unto a latch-gate's unkempt rose, + And door whereat I knock. + + Bright on the old-time flower-place + The lamp streams through the foggy pane. + The door is opened to the rain; + And in the door--her happy face, + And eager hands again. + + + + +ASHLY MERE. + + + Come! look in the shadowy water here, + The stagnant water of Ashly Mere: + Where the stirless depths are dark but clear, + What is the thing that lies there?-- + A lily-pod half sunk from sight? + Or spawn of the toad all water-white? + Or ashen blur of the moon's wan light? + Or a woman's face and eyes there? + + Now lean to the water a listening ear, + The haunted water of Ashly Mere: + What is the sound that you seem to hear + In the ghostly hush of the deeps there?-- + A withered reed that the ripple lips? + Or a night-bird's wing that the surface whips? + Or the rain in a leaf that drips and drips? + Or a woman's voice that weeps there? + + Now look and listen! but draw not near + The lonely water of Ashly Mere!-- + For so it happens this time each year + As you lean by the mere and listen: + And the moaning voice I understand,-- + For oft I have watched it draw to land, + And lift from the water a ghastly hand + And a face whose eyeballs glisten. + + And this is the reason why every year + To the hideous water of Ashly Mere + I come when the woodland leaves are sear, + And the autumn moon hangs hoary: + For here by the mere was wrought a wrong ... + But the old, old story is over long-- + And woman is weak and man is strong ... + And the mere's and mine is the story. + + + + +BEFORE THE TOMB. + + + The way went under cedared gloom + To moonlight, like a cactus bloom, + Before the entrance of her tomb. + + I had an hour of night and thin + Sad starlight; and I set my chin + Against the grating and looked in. + + A gleam, like moonlight, through a square + Of opening--I knew not where-- + Shone on her coffin resting there. + + And on its oval silver-plate + I read her name and age and date, + And smiled, soft-thinking on my hate. + + There was no insect sound to chirr; + No wind to make a little stir. + I stood and looked and thought on her. + + The gleam stole downward from her head, + Till at her feet it rested red + On Gothic gold, that sadly said:-- + + "God to her love lent a weak reed + Of strength: and gave no light to lead: + Pray for her soul; for it hath need." + + There was no night-bird's twitter near, + No low vague water I might hear + To make a small sound in the ear. + + The gleam, that made a burning mark + Of each dim word, died to a spark; + Then left the tomb and coffin dark. + + I had a little while to wait; + And prayed with hands against the grate, + And heart that yearned and knew too late. + + There was no light below, above, + To point my soul the way thereof,-- + The way of hate that led to love. + + + + +REVISITED. + + + It was beneath a waning moon when all the woods were sear, + And winds made eddies of the leaves that whispered far and near, + I met her on the old mill-bridge we parted at last year. + + At first I deemed it but a mist that faltered in that place, + An autumn mist beneath the trees that sentineled the race; + Until I neared and in the moon beheld her face to face. + + The waver of the summer-heat upon the drouth-dry leas; + The shimmer of the thistle-drift a down the silences; + The gliding of the fairy-fire between the swamp and trees; + + They qualified her presence as a sorrow may a dream-- + The vague suggestion of a self; the glimmer of a gleam; + The actual unreal of the things that only seem. + + Where once she came with welcome and glad eyes all loving-wise, + She passed and gave no greeting that my heart might recognize, + With far-set face unseeing and sad unremembering eyes. + + It was beneath a waning moon when woods were bleak and sear, + And winds made whispers of the leaves that eddied far and near, + I met her ghost upon the bridge we parted at last year. + + + + +AT VESPERS. + + + High up in the organ-story + A girl stands slim and fair; + And touched with the casement's glory + Gleams out her radiant hair. + + The young priest kneels at the altar, + Then lifts the Host above; + And the psalm intoned from the psalter + Is pure with patient love. + + A sweet bell chimes; and a censer + Swings gleaming in the gloom; + The candles glimmer and denser + Rolls up the pale perfume. + + Then high in the organ choir + A voice of crystal soars, + Of patience and soul's desire, + That suffers and adores. + + And out of the altar's dimness + An answering voice doth swell, + Of passion that cries from the grimness + And anguish of its own hell. + + High up in the organ-story + One kneels with a girlish grace; + And, touched with the vesper glory, + Lifts her madonna face. + + One stands at the cloudy altar, + A form bowed down and thin; + The text of the psalm in the psalter + He reads, is sorrow and sin. + + + + +THE CREEK. + + + O cheerly, cheerly by the road + And merrily down the billet; + And where the acre-field is sowed + With bristle-bearded millet. + + Then o'er a pebbled path that goes, + Through vista and through dingle, + Unto a farmstead's windowed rose, + And roof of moss and shingle. + + O darkly, darkly through the bush, + And dimly by the bowlder, + Where cane and water-cress grow lush, + And woodland wilds are older. + + Then o'er the cedared way that leads, + Through burr and bramble-thickets, + Unto a burial-ground of weeds + Fenced in with broken pickets. + + Then sadly, sadly down the vale, + And wearily through the rushes, + Where sunlight of the noon is pale, + And e'en the zephyr hushes. + + For oft her young face smiled upon + My deeps here, willow-shaded; + And oft with bare feet in the sun + My shallows there she waded. + + No more beneath the twinkling leaves + Shall stand the farmer's daughter!-- + Sing softly past the cottage eaves, + O memory-haunted water! + + No more shall bend her laughing face + Above me where the rose is!-- + Sigh softly past the burial-place, + Where all her youth reposes! + + + + +ANSWERED. + + + Do you remember how that night drew on? + That night of sorrow, when the stars looked wan + As eyes that gaze reproachful in a dream, + Loved eyes, long lost, and sadder than the grave? + How through the heaven stole the moon's gray gleam, + Like a nun's ghost down a cathedral nave?-- + Do you remember how that night drew on? + + Do you remember the hard words then said? + Said to the living,--now denied the dead,-- + That left me dead,--long, long before I died,-- + In heart and spirit?--me, your words had slain, + Telling how love to my poor life had lied, + Armed with the dagger of a pale disdain.-- + Do you remember the hard words then said? + + Do you remember, now this night draws down + The threatening heavens, that the lightnings crown + With wrecks of thunder? when no moon doth give + The clouds wild witchery?--as in a room, + Behind the sorrowful arras, still may live + The pallid secret of the haunted gloom.-- + Do you remember, now this night draws down? + + Do you remember, now it comes to pass + Your form is bowed as is the wind-swept grass? + And death hath won from you that confidence + Denied to life? now your sick soul rebels + Against your pride with tragic eloquence, + That self-crowned demon of the heart's fierce hells.-- + Do you remember, now it comes to pass? + + Do you remember?--Bid your soul be still. + Here passion hath surrendered unto will, + And flesh to spirit. Quiet your wild tongue + And wilder heart. Your kiss is naught to me. + The instrument love gave you lies unstrung, + Silent, forsaken of all melody. + Do you remember?--Bid your soul be still. + + + + +WOMAN'S PORTION. + + +I. + + The leaves are shivering on the thorn, + Drearily; + And sighing wakes the lean-eyed morn, + Wearily. + + I press my thin face to the pane, + Drearily; + But never will he come again. + (Wearily.) + + The rain hath sicklied day with haze, + Drearily; + My tears run downward as I gaze, + Wearily. + + The mist and morn spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What is this thing God gives to thee?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the morn and mist, + Drearily: + "The babe unborn whom sin hath kissed." + (Wearily.) + + The morn and mist spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What is this thing which thou dost see?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the mist and morn, + Drearily: + "The shame of man and woman's scorn." + (Wearily.) + + "He loved thee not," they made reply. + Drearily. + I said, "Would God had let me die!" + (Wearily.) + + +II. + + My dreams are as a closed up book, + (Drearily.) + Upon whose clasp of love I look, + Wearily. + + All night the rain raved overhead, + Drearily; + All night I wept awake in bed, + Wearily. + + I heard the wind sweep wild and wide, + Drearily; + I turned upon my face and sighed, + Wearily. + + The wind and rain spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What is this thing God takes from thee?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the rain and wind, + Drearily: + "The love, for which my soul hath sinned." + (Wearily.) + + The rain and wind spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What are these things thou still dost see?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the wind and rain, + Drearily: + "Regret, and hope despair hath slain." + (Wearily.) + + "Thou lov'st him still," they made reply, + Drearily. + I said, "That God would let me die!" + (Wearily.) + + + + +FINALE. + + + So let it be. Thou wilt not say 't was I! + Here in life's temple, where thy soul may see, + Look how the beauty of our love doth lie, + Shattered in shards, a dead divinity! + Approach: kneel down: yea, render up one sigh! + This is the end. What need to tell it thee! + So let it be. + + So let it be. Care, who hath stood with him, + And sorrow, who sat by him deified, + For whom his face made comfort, lo! how dim + They heap his altar which they can not hide, + While memory's lamp swings o'er it, burning slim. + This is the end. What shall be said beside? + So let it be. + + So let it be. Did we not drain the wine, + Red, of love's sacramental chalice, when + He laid sweet sanction on thy lips and mine? + Dash it aside! Lo, who will fill again + Now it is empty of the god divine! + This is the end. Yea, let us say Amen. + So let it be. + + + + +THE CROSS. + + + The cross I bear no man shall know-- + No man can ease the cross I bear!-- + Alas! the thorny path of woe + Up the steep hill of care! + + There is no word to comfort me; + No sign to help my bended head; + Deep night lies over land and sea, + And silence dark and dread. + + To strive, it seems, that I was born, + For that which others shall obtain; + The disappointment and the scorn + Alone for me remain. + + One half my life is overpast; + The other half I contemplate-- + Meseems the past doth but forecast + A darker future state. + + Sick to the heart of that which makes + Me hope and struggle and desire, + The aspiration here that aches + With ineffectual fire; + + While inwardly I know the lack, + The insufficiency of power, + Each past day's retrospect makes black + Each morrow's coming hour. + + Now in my youth would I could die!-- + As others love to live,--go down + Into the grave without a sigh, + Oblivious of renown! + + + + +THE FOREST OF DREAMS. + + +I. + + Where was I last Friday night?-- + Within the forest of dark dreams + Following the blur of a goblin-light, + That led me over ugly streams, + Whereon the scum of the spawn was spread, + And the blistered slime, in stagnant seams; + Where the weed and the moss swam black and dead, + Like a drowned girl's hair in the ropy ooze: + And the jack-o'-lantern light that led, + Flickered the fox-fire trees o'erhead, + And the owl-like things at airy cruise. + + +II. + + Where was I last Friday night?-- + Within the forest of dark dreams + Following a form of shadowy white + With my own wild face it seems. + Did a raven's wing just flap my hair? + Or a web-winged bat brush by my face? + Or the hand of--something I did not dare + Look round to see in that obscene place? + Where the boughs, with leaves a-devil's-dance, + And the thorn-tree bush, where the wind made moan, + Had more than a strange significance + Of life and of evil not their own. + + +III. + + Where was I last Friday night?-- + Within the forest of dark dreams + Seeing the mists rise left and right, + Like the leathery fog that heaves and steams + From the rolling horror of Hell's red streams. + While the wind, that tossed in the tattered tree, + And danced alone with the last mad leaf ... + Or was it the wind?... kept whispering me-- + "Now bury it here with its own black grief, + And its eyes of fire you can not brave!"-- + And in the darkness I seemed to see + My own self digging my soul a grave. + + + + +LYNCHERS. + + + At the moon's down-going, let it be + On the quarry bill with its one gnarled tree.... + + The red-rock road of the underbrush, + Where the woman came through the summer hush. + + The sumach high, and the elder thick, + Where we found the stone and the ragged stick. + + The trampled road of the thicket, full + Of foot-prints down to the quarry pool. + + The rocks that ooze with the hue of lead, + Where we found her lying stark and dead. + + The scraggy wood; the negro hut, + With its doors and windows locked and shut. + + A secret signal; a foot's rough tramp; + A knock at the door; a lifted lamp. + + An oath; a scuffle; a ring of masks; + A voice that answers a voice that asks. + + A group of shadows; the moon's red fleck; + A running noose and a man's bared neck. + + A word, a curse, and a shape that swings; + The lonely night and a bat's black wings.... + + At the moon's down-going, let it be + On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree. + + + + +KU KLUX. + + + We have sent him seeds of the melon's core, + And nailed a warning upon his door; + By the Ku Klux laws we can do no more. + + Down in the hollow, 'mid crib and stack, + The roof of his low-porched house looms black; + Not a line of light at the doorsill's crack. + + Yet arm and mount! and mask and ride! + The hounds can sense though the fox may hide! + And for a word too much men oft have died. + + The clouds blow heavy towards the moon. + The edge of the storm will reach it soon. + The killdee cries and the lonesome loon. + + The clouds shall flush with a wilder glare + Than the lightning makes with its angled flare, + When the Ku Klux verdict is given there. + + In the pause of the thunder rolling low, + A rifle's answer--who shall know + From the wind's fierce burl and the rain's blackblow? + + Only the signature written grim + At the end of the message brought to him-- + A hempen rope and a twisted limb. + + So arm and mount! and mask and ride! + The hounds can sense though the fox may hide! + And for a word too much men oft have died. + + + + +REMBRANDTS. + + +I. + + I shall not soon forget her and her eyes, + The haunts of hate, where suffering seemed to write + Its own dark name, whose syllables are sighs, + In strange and starless night. + + I shall not soon forget her and her face, + So quiet, yet uneasy as a dream, + That stands on tip-toe in a haunted place + And listens for a scream. + + She made me feel as one, alone, may feel + In some grand ghostly house of olden time, + The presence of a treasure, walls conceal, + The secret of a crime. + + +II. + + With lambent faces, mimicking the moon, + The water lilies lie; + Dotting the darkness of the long lagoon + Like some black sky. + + A face, the whiteness of a water-flower, + And pollen-golden hair, + In shadow half, half in the moonbeams' glower, + Lifts slowly there. + + A young girl's face, death makes cold marble of, + Turned to the moon and me, + Sad with the pathos of unspeakable love, + Floating to sea. + + +III. + + One listening bent, in dread of something coming, + He can not see nor balk-- + A phantom footstep, in the ghostly gloaming, + That haunts a terraced walk. + + Long has he given his whole heart's hard endeavor + Unto the work begun, + Still hoping love would watch it grow and ever + Turn kindly eyes thereon. + + Now in his life he feels there nears an hour, + Inevitable, alas! + When in the darkness he shall cringe and cower, + And see his dead self pass. + + + + +THE LADY OF THE HILLS. + + + Though red my blood hath left its trail + For five far miles, I shall not fail, + As God in Heaven wills!-- + The way was long through that black land. + With sword on hip and horn in hand, + At last before thy walls I stand, + O Lady of the Hills! + + No seneschal shall put to scorn + The summons of my bugle-horn! + No man-at-arms shall stay!-- + Yea! God hath helped my strength too far + By bandit-caverned wood and scar + To give it pause now, or to bar + My all-avenging way. + + This hope still gives my body strength-- + To kiss her eyes and lips at length + Where all her kin can see; + Then 'mid her towers of crime and gloom, + Sin-haunted like the Halls of Doom, + To smite her dead in that wild room + Red-lit with revelry. + + Madly I rode; nor once did slack. + Before my face the world rolled, black + With nightmare wind and rain. + Witch-lights mocked at me on the fen; + And through the forest followed then + Gaunt eyes of wolves; and ghosts of men + Moaned by me on the plain. + + Still on I rode. My way was clear + From that wild time when, spear to spear, + Deep in the wind-torn wood, + I met him!... Dead he lies beneath + Their trysting oak. I clenched my teeth + And rode. My wound scarce let me breathe, + That filled my eyes with blood. + + And here I am. The blood may blind + My eyesight now ... yet I shall find + Her by some inner eye! + For God--He hath this deed in care!-- + Yea! I shall kiss again her hair, + And tell her of her leman there, + Then smite her dead--and die. + + + + +REVEALMENT. + + + At moonset when ghost speaks with ghost, + And spirits meet where once they sinned, + Between the bournes of found and lost, + My soul met her soul on the wind, + My late-lost Evalind. + + I kissed her mouth. Her face was wild. + Two burning shadows were her eyes, + Wherefrom the maiden love, that smiled + A heartbreak smile of severed ties, + Gazed with a wan surprise. + + Then suddenly I seemed to see + No more her shape where beauty bloomed ... + My own sad self gazed up at me-- + My sorrow, that had so assumed + The form of her entombed. + + + + +HEART'S ENCOURAGEMENT. + + + Nor time nor all his minions + Of sorrow or of pain, + Shall dash with vulture pinions + The cup she fills again + Within the dream-dominions + Of life where she doth reign. + + Clothed on with bright desire + And hope that makes her strong, + With limbs of frost and fire, + She sits above all wrong, + Her heart, a living lyre, + Her love, its only song. + + And in the waking pauses + Of weariness and care, + And when the dark hour draws his + Black weapon of despair, + Above effects and causes + We hear its music there. + + The longings life hath near it + Of love we yearn to see; + The dreams it doth inherit + Of immortality; + Are callings of her spirit + To something yet to be. + + + + +NIGHTFALL. + + + O day, so sicklied o'er with night! + O dreadful fruit of fallen dusk!-- + A Circe orange, golden-bright, + With horror 'neath its husk. + + And I, who gave the promise heed + That made life's tempting surface fair, + Have I not eaten to the seed + Its ashes of despair! + + O silence of the drifted grass! + And immemorial eloquence + Of stars and winds and waves that pass! + And God's indifference! + + Leave me alone with sleep that knows + Not any thing that life may keep-- + Not e'en the pulse that comes and goes + In germs that climb and creep. + + Or if an aspiration pale + Must quicken there--oh, let the spot + Grow weeds! that dost may so prevail, + Where spirit once could not! + + + + +PAUSE. + + + So sick of dreams! the dreams, that stain + The aisle, along which life must pass, + With hues of mystic colored glass, + That fills the windows of the brain. + + So sick of thoughts! the thoughts, that carve + The house of days with arabesques + And gargoyles, where the mind grotesques + In masks of hope and faith who starve. + + Here lay thy over weary head + Upon my bosom! Do not weep!-- + "He giveth His beloved sleep."-- + Heart of my heart, be comforted. + + + + +ABOVE THE VALES. + + + We went by ways of bygone days, + Up mountain heights of story, + Where lost in vague, historic haze, + Tradition, crowned with battle-bays, + Sat 'mid her ruins hoary. + + Where wing to wing the eagles cling + And torrents have their sources, + War rose with bugle voice to sing + Of wild spear thrust, and broadsword swing, + And rush of men and horses. + + Then deep below, where orchards show + A home here, here a steeple, + We heard a simple shepherd go, + Singing, beneath the afterglow, + A love-song of the people. + + As in the trees the song did cease, + With matron eyes and holy + Peace, from the cornlands of increase. + And rose-beds of love's victories, + Spake, smiling, of the lowly. + + + + +A SUNSET FANCY. + + + Wide in the west, a lake + Of flame that seems to shake + As if the Midgard snake + Deep down did breathe: + An isle of purple glow, + Where rosy rivers flow + Down peaks of cloudy snow + With fire beneath. + + And there the Tower-of-Night, + With windows all a-light, + Frowns on a burning height; + Wherein she sleeps,-- + Young through the years of doom,-- + Veiled with her hair's gold gloom, + The pale Valkyrie whom + Enchantment keeps. + + + + +THE FEN-FIRE. + + + The misty rain makes dim my face, + The night's black cloak is o'er me; + I tread the dripping cypress-place, + A flickering light before me. + + Out of the death of leaves that rot + And ooze and weedy water, + My form was breathed to haunt this spot, + Death's immaterial daughter. + + The owl that whoops upon the yew, + The snake that lairs within it, + Have seen my wild face flashing blue + For one fantastic minute. + + But should you follow where my eyes + Like some pale lamp decoy you, + Beware! lest suddenly I rise + With love that shall destroy you. + + + + +TO ONE READING THE MORTE D'ARTHURE. + + + O daughter of our Southern sun, + Sweet sister of each flower, + Dost dream in terraced Avalon + A shadow-haunted hour? + Or stand with Guinevere upon + Some ivied Camelot tower? + + Or in the wind dost breathe the musk + That blows Tintagel's sea on? + Or 'mid the lists by castled Usk + Hear some wild tourney's pæon? + Or 'neath the Merlin moons of dusk + Dost muse in old Cærleon? + + Or now of Launcelot, and then + Of Arthur, 'mid the roses, + Dost speak with wily Vivien? + Or where the shade reposes, + Dost walk with stately armored men + In marble-fountained closes? + + So speak the dreams within thy gaze. + The dreams thy spirit cages, + Would that Romance--which on thee lays + The spell of bygone ages-- + Held me! a memory of those days, + A portion of its pages! + + + + +STROLLERS. + + +I. + + We have no castles, + We have no vassals, + We have no riches, no gems and no gold; + Nothing to ponder, + Nothing to squander-- + Let us go wander + As minstrels of old. + + +II. + + You with your lute, love, + I with my flute, love, + Let us make music by mountain and sea; + You with your glances, + I with my dances, + Singing romances + Of old chivalry. + + +III. + + "Derry down derry! + Good folk, be merry! + Hither, and hearken where happiness is!-- + Never go borrow + Care of to-morrow, + Never go sorrow + While life hath a kiss." + + +IV. + + Let the day gladden + Or the night sadden, + We will be merry in sunshine or snow; + You with your rhyme, love, + I with my chime, love, + We will make time, love, + Dance as we go. + + +V. + + Nothing is ours, + Only the flowers, + Meadows, and stars, and the heavens above; + Nothing to lie for, + Nothing to sigh for, + Nothing to die for + While still we have love. + + +VI. + + "Derry down derry! + Good folk, be merry! + Hither, and hearken a word that is sooth:-- + Care ye not any, + If ye have many + Or not a penny, + If still ye have youth!" + + + + +HAUNTED. + + + When grave the twilight settles o'er my roof, + And from the haggard oaks unto my door + The rain comes, wild as one who rides before + His enemies that follow, hoof to hoof; + And in each window's gusty curtain-woof + The rain-wind sighs, like one who mutters o'er + Some tale of love and crime; and, on the floor, + The sunset spreads red stains as bloody proof; + From hall to hall and stealthy stair to stair, + Through all the house, a dread that drags me toward + The ancient dusk of that avoided room, + Wherein she sits with ghostly golden hair, + And eyes that gaze beyond her soul's sad doom, + Bending above an unreal harpsichord. + + + + +PRÆTERITA. + + + Low belts of rushes ragged with the blast; + Lagoons of marish reddening with the west; + And o'er the marsh the water-fowl's unrest + While daylight dwindles and the dusk falls fast. + Set in sad walls, all mossy with the past, + An old stone gateway with a crumbling crest; + A garden where death drowses manifest; + And in gaunt yews the shadowy house at last. + Here, like some unseen spirit, silence talks + With echo and the wind in each gray room + Where melancholy slumbers with the rain: + Or, like some gentle ghost, the moonlight walks + In the dim garden, which her smile makes bloom + With all the old-time loveliness again. + + + + +THE SWASHBUCKLER. + + + Squat-nosed and broad, of big and pompous port; + A tavern visage, apoplexy haunts, + All pimple-puffed; the Falstaff-like resort + Of fat debauchery, whose veined cheek flaunts + A flabby purple: rusty-spurred he stands + In rakehell boots and belt, and hanger that + Claps when, with greasy gauntlets on his hands, + He swaggers past in cloak and slouch-plumed hat. + Aggression marches armies in his words; + And in his oaths great deeds ride cap-a-pie; + His looks, his gestures breathe the breath of swords; + And in his carriage camp all wars to be: + With him of battles there shall be no lack + While buxom wenches are and stoops of sack. + + + + +THE WITCH. + + + She gropes and hobbies, where the dropsied rocks + Are hairy with the lichens and the twist + Of knotted wolf's-bane, mumbling in the mist, + Hawk-nosed and wrinkle-eyed with scrawny locks. + At her bent back the sick-faced moonlight mocks, + Like some lewd evil whom the Fiend hath kissed; + Thrice at her feet the slipping serpent hissed, + And thrice the owl called to the forest fox.-- + What sabboth brew dost now intend? What root + Dost seek for, seal for what satanic spell + Of incantations and demoniac fire? + From thy rude hut, hill-huddled in the brier, + What dark familiar points thy sure pursuit, + With burning eyes, gaunt with the glow of Hell? + + + + +THE SOMNAMBULIST. + + + Oaks and a water. By the water--eyes, + Ice-green and steadfast as cold stars; and hair + Yellow as eyes deep in a she-wolf's lair; + And limbs, like darkness that the lightning dyes. + The humped oaks stand black under iron skies; + The dry wind whirls the dead leaves everywhere; + Wild on the water falls a vulture glare + Of moon, and wild the circling raven flies. + Again the power of this thing hath laid + Illusion on him: and he seems to hear + A sweet voice calling him beyond his gates + To longed-for love; he comes; each forest glade + Seems reaching out white arms to draw him near-- + Nearer and nearer to the death that waits. + + + + +OPIUM. + +_On reading De Quincey's "Confessions of an Opium Eater."_ + + + I seemed to stand before a temple walled + From shadows and night's unrealities; + Filled with dark music of dead memories, + And voices, lost in darkness, aye that called. + I entered. And, beneath the dome's high-halled + Immensity, one forced me to my knees + Before a blackness--throned 'mid semblances + And spectres--crowned with flames of emerald. + Then, lo! two shapes that thundered at mine ears + The names of Horror and Oblivion, + Priests of this god,--and bade me die and dream. + Then, in the heart of hell, a thousand years + Meseemed I lay--dead; while the iron stream + Of Time beat out the seconds, one by one. + + + + +MUSIC AND SLEEP. + + + These have a life that hath no part in death; + These circumscribe the soul and make it strong; + Between the breathing of a dream and song, + Building a world of beauty in a breath. + Unto the heart the voice of this one saith + Ideals, its emotions live among; + Unto the mind the other speaks a tongue + Of visions, where the guess, we christen faith, + May face the fact of immortality-- + As may a rose its unembodied scent, + Or star its own reflected radiance. + We do not know these save unconsciously. + To whose mysterious shadows God hath lent + No certain shape, no certain countenance. + + + + +AMBITION. + + + Now to my lips lift then some opiate + Of black forgetfulness! while in thy gaze + Still lures the loveless beauty that betrays, + And in thy mouth the music that is hate. + No promise more hast thou to make me wait; + No smile to cozen my sick heart with praise! + Far, far behind thee stretch laborious days, + And far before thee, labors soon and late. + Thine is the fen-fire that we deem a star, + Flying before us, ever fugitive, + Thy mocking policy still holds afar: + And thine the voice, to which our longings give + Hope's siren face, that speaks us sweet and fair, + Only to lead us captives to Despair. + + + + +DESPONDENCY. + + + Not all the bravery that day puts on + Of gold and azure, ardent or austere, + Shall ease my soul of sorrow; grown more dear + Than all the joy that heavenly hope may don. + Far up the skies the rumor of the dawn + May run, and eve like some wild torch appear; + These shall not change the darkness, gathered here, + Of thought, that rusts like an old sword undrawn. + Oh, for a place deep-sunken from the sun! + A wildwood cave of primitive rocks and moss! + Where Sleep and Silence--breast to married breast-- + Lie with their child, night-eyed Oblivion; + Where, freed from all the trouble of my cross, + I might forget, I might forget, and rest! + + + + +DESPAIR. + + + Shut in with phantoms of life's hollow hopes, + And shadows of old sins satiety slew, + And the young ghosts of the dead dreams love knew, + Out of the day into the night she gropes. + Behind her, high the silvered summit slopes + Of strength and faith, she will not turn to view; + But towards the cave of weakness, harsh of hue, + She goes, where all the dropsied horror ropes. + There is a voice of waters in her ears, + And on her brow a wind that never dies: + One is the anguish of desired tears; + One is the sorrow of unuttered sighs; + And, burdened with the immemorial years, + Downward she goes with never lifted eyes. + + + + +SIN. + + + There is a legend of an old Hartz tower + That tells of one, a noble, who had sold + His soul unto the Fiend; who grew not old + On this condition: That the demon's power + Cease every midnight for a single hour, + And in that hour his body should be cold, + His limbs grow shriveled, and his face, behold! + Become a death's-head in the taper's glower.-- + So unto Sin Life gives his best. Her arts + Make all his outward seeming beautiful + Before the world; but in his heart of hearts + Abides an hour when her strength is null; + When he shall feel the death through all his parts + Strike, and his countenance become a skull. + + + + +INSOMNIA. + + + It seems that dawn will never climb + The eastern hills; + And, clad in mist and flame and rime, + Make flashing highways of the rills. + + The night is as an ancient way + Through some dead land, + Whereon the ghosts of Memory + And Sorrow wander hand in hand. + + By which man's works ignoble seem, + Unbeautiful; + And grandeur, but the ruined dream + Of some proud queen, crowned with a skull. + + A way past-peopled, dark and old, + That stretches far-- + Its only real thing, the cold + Vague light of sleep's one fitful star. + + + + +ENCOURAGEMENT. + + + To help our tired hope to toil, + Lo! have we not the council here + Of trees, that to all hope appear + As sermons of the soil? + + To help our flagging faith to rise, + Lo! have we not the high advice + Of stars, that for all faith suffice + As gospels of the skies? + + Sustain us, Lord! and help us climb, + With hope and faith made strong and great, + The rock-rough pathway of our fate, + The care-dark way of time! + + + + +QUATRAINS. + + +PENURY. + + Above his misered embers, gnarled and gray, + With toil-twitched limbs he bends; around his hut, + Want, like a hobbling hag, goes night and day, + Scolding at windows and at doors tight-shut. + + +STRATEGY. + + Craft's silent sister and the daughter deep + Of Contemplation, she, who spreads below + A hostile tent soft comfort for her foe, + With eyes of Jael watching till he sleep. + + +TEMPEST. + + With helms of lightning, glittering in the skies, + On steeds of thunder, cloudy form on form, + Terrific beauty in their hair and eyes, + Behold the wild Valkyries of the storm. + + +THE LOCUST BLOSSOM. + + The spirit Spring, in rainy raiment, met + The spirit Summer for a moonlit hour: + Sweet from their greeting kisses, warm and wet, + Earth shaped the fragrant purity of this flower. + + +MELANCHOLY. + + With shadowy immortelles of memory + About her brow, she sits with eyes that look + Upon the stream of Lethe wearily, + In hesitant hands Death's partly-opened book. + + +CONTENT. + + Among the meadows of Life's sad unease-- + In labor still renewing her soul's youth-- + With trust, for patience, and with love, for peace, + Singing she goes with the calm face of Ruth. + + +LIFE AND DEATH. + + Of our own selves God makes a glass, wherein + Two shadows image them as might a breath: + And one is Life, whose other name is Sin; + And one is Love, whose other name is Death. + + +SORROW. + + Death takes her hand and leads her through the waste + Of her own soul, wherein she hears the voice + Of lost Love's tears, and, famishing, can but taste + The dead-sea fruit of Life's remembered joys. + + + + +A LAST WORD. + + + Not for thyself, but for the sake of Song, + Strive to succeed as others have, who gave + Their lives unto her; shaping sure and strong + Her lovely limbs that made them god and slave. + + Not for thyself, but for the sake of Art, + Strive to advance beyond the others' best; + Winning a deeper secret from her heart + To hang it moonlike 'mid the starry rest. + + + + +_For permission to reprint a number of the poems included in this +volume, thanks are due to The Chap-Book, Cosmopolitan, Lippincott's, +Century, New England, Atlantic, and Harper's._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Garden of Dreams, by Madison J. 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Cawein + +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 Garden of Dreams + +Author: Madison J. Cawein + +Release Date: March 20, 2010 [EBook #31712] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GARDEN OF DREAMS *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<h1>THE GARDEN OF<br /> +DREAMS</h1> + +<h3><big>MADISON CAWEIN</big><br /> +<small><i>Author of "Intimations of the Beautiful," "Undertones,"<br /> +and several other books of verse</i></small></h3> + +<h3>LOUISVILLE<br /> +JOHN P MORTON & COMPANY<br /> +MDCCCXCVI</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1896,<br /> +John P. Morton & Company.</span></h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h4><small>TO</small><br /> +<span class="smcap">My Brothers</span>.</h4> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Not while I live may I forget</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That garden which my spirit trod!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And beautiful as God.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Not while I breathe, awake adream,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Shall live again for me those hours,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When, in its mystery and gleam,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I met her 'mid the flowers.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Eyes, talismanic heliotrope,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Beneath mesmeric lashes, where</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The sorceries of love and hope</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Had made a shining lair.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And daydawn brows, whereover hung</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The twilight of dark locks; and lips,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Whose beauty spoke the rose's tongue</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of fragrance-voweled drips.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>I will not tell of cheeks and chin,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That held me as sweet language holds;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Nor of the eloquence within</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Her bosom's moony molds.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Nor of her large limbs' languorous</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Wind-grace, that glanced like starlight through</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Her ardent robe's diaphanous</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Web of the mist and dew.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>There is no star so pure and high</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>As was her look; no fragrance such</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>At her soft presence; and no sigh</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of music like her touch.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Not while I live may I forget</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That garden of dim dreams! where I</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And Song within the spirit met,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Sweet Song, who passed me by.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS.</h2> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" summary="Table of Contents"> +<tr> + <td> </td> + <td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_FALLEN_BEECH">A Fallen Beech</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_HAUNTED_WOODLAND">The Haunted Woodland</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#DISCOVERY">Discovery</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#COMRADERY">Comradery</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_5">5</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#OCCULT">Occult</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_6">6</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#WOOD-WORDS">Wood-Words</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_7">7</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_WIND_AT_NIGHT">The Wind at Night</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_10">10</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#AIRY_TONGUES">Airy Tongues</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_HILLS">The Hills</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_13">13</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#IMPERFECTION">Imperfection</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#ARCANNA">Arcanna</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#SPRING">Spring</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#RESPONSE">Response</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#FULFILLMENT">Fulfillment</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#TRANSFORMATION">Transformation</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#OMENS">Omens</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#ABANDONED">Abandoned</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_CREEK-ROAD">The Creek Road</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_COVERED_BRIDGE">The Covered Bridge</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_19">19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_HILLSIDE_GRAVE">The Hillside Grave</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#SIMULACRA">Simulacra</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#BEFORE_THE_END">Before the End</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#WINTER">Winter</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_21">21</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#HOAR-FROST">Hoar Frost</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_WINTER_MOON">The Winter Moon</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#IN_SUMMER">In Summer</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_23">23</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#RAIN_AND_WIND">Rain and Wind</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#UNDER_ARCTURUS">Under Arcturus</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#OCTOBER">October</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#BARE_BOUGHS">Bare Boughs</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_THRENODY">A Threnody</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_30">30</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#SNOW">Snow</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#VAGABONDS">Vagabonds</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_31">31</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#AN_OLD_SONG">An Old Song</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_ROSE_O_THE_HILLS">A Rose o' the Hills</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#DIRGE">Dirge</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_34">34</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#REST">Rest</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#CLAIRVOYANCE">Clairvoyance</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_36">36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#INDIFFERENCE">Indifference</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#PICTURED">Pictured</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#SERENADE">Serenade</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#KINSHIP">Kinship</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#SHE_IS_SO_MUCH">She is So Much</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#HER_EYES">Her Eyes</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#MESSENGERS">Messengers</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#AT_TWENTY-ONE">At Twenty-One</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#BABY_MARY">Baby Mary</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_44">44</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_MOTIVE_IN_GOLD_AND_GRAY">A Motive in Gold and Gray</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_REED_SHAKEN_WITH_THE_WIND">A Reed Shaken with the Wind</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_50">50</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_FLOWER_OF_THE_FIELDS">A Flower of the Fields</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_71">71</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_WHITE_VIGIL">The White Vigil</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#TOO_LATE">Too Late</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#INTIMATIONS">Intimations</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_74">74</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#TWO">Two</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_80">80</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#TONES">Tones</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#UNFULFILLED">Unfulfilled</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_83">83</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#HOME">Home</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#ASHLY_MERE">Ashly Mere</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#BEFORE_THE_TOMB">Before the Tomb</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#REVISITED">Revisited</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#AT_VESPERS">At Vespers</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_91">91</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_CREEK">The Creek</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#ANSWERED">Answered</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_93">93</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#WOMANS_PORTION">Woman's Portion</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#FINALE">Finale</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_CROSS">The Cross</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_FOREST_OF_DREAMS">The Forest of Dreams</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_99">99</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#LYNCHERS">Lynchers</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_101">101</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#KU_KLUX">Ku Klux</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_102">102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#REMBRANDTS">Rembrandts</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_LADY_OF_THE_HILLS">The Lady of The Hills</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#REVEALMENT">Revealment</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#HEARTS_ENCOURAGEMENT">Heart's Encouragement</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_107">107</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#NIGHTFALL">Nightfall</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#PAUSE">Pause</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_108">108</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#ABOVE_THE_VALES">Above the Vales</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_SUNSET_FANCY">A Sunset Fancy</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_FEN-FIRE">The Fen-Fire</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_110">110</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#TO_ONE_READING_THE_MORTE_DARTHURE">To One Reading the Morte D'Arthure</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_111">111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#STROLLERS">Strollers</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#HAUNTED">Haunted</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#PRAETERITA">Præterita</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_SWASHBUCKLER">The Swashbuckler</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_115">115</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_WITCH">The Witch</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#THE_SOMNAMBULIST">The Somnambulist</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#OPIUM">Opium</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#MUSIC_AND_SLEEP">Music and Sleep</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#AMBITION">Ambition</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_118">118</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#DESPONDENCY">Despondency</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#DESPAIR">Despair</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_119">119</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#SIN">Sin</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#INSOMNIA">Insomnia</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_120">120</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#ENCOURAGEMENT">Encouragement</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#QUATRAINS">Quatrains</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_122">122</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td><a href="#A_LAST_WORD">A Last Word</a></td> + <td align="right"><a href="#Page_123">123</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h1>THE GARDEN OF DREAMS</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_FALLEN_BEECH" id="A_FALLEN_BEECH"></a>A FALLEN BEECH</h2> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nevermore at doorways that are barken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the madcap wind knock and the noonlight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the circle, which thou once didst darken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shine with footsteps of the neighboring moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Visitors for whom thou oft didst hearken.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nevermore, gallooned with cloudy laces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the morning, like a fair freebooter,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make thy leaves his richest treasure-places;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the sunset, like a royal suitor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clothe thy limbs with his imperial graces.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And no more, between the savage wonder<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the sunset and the moon's up-coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall the storm, with boisterous hoof-beats, under<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy dark roof dance, Faun-like, to the humming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Pan-pipes of the rain and thunder.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft the satyr spirit, beauty-drunken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the Spring called; and the music-measure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy sap made answer; and thy sunken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veins grew vehement with youth, whose pressure<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swelled thy gnarly muscles, winter-shrunken.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the germs, deep down in darkness rooted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bubbled green from all thy million oilets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the spirits, rain-and-sunbeam-suited,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the April made their whispering toilets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or within thy stately shadow footed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft the hours of blonde Summer tinkled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the windows of thy twigs, and found thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bird-blithe; or, with shapely bodies, twinkled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lissom feet of naked flowers around thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where thy mats of moss lay sunbeam-sprinkled.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the Autumn with his gipsy-coated<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Troop of days beneath thy branches rested,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swarthy-faced and dark of eye; and throated<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Songs of hunting; or with red hand tested<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every nut-bur that above him floated.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the Winter, barren-browed, but rich in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shaggy followers of frost and freezing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made the floor of thy broad boughs his kitchen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trapper-like, to camp in; grimly easing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Limbs snow-furred and moccasoned with lichen.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, alas! no more do these invest thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the dignity of whilom gladness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They—unto whose hearts thou once confessed thee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thy dreams—now know thee not! and sadness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits beside thee where forgot dost rest thee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_HAUNTED_WOODLAND" id="THE_HAUNTED_WOODLAND"></a>THE HAUNTED WOODLAND</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here in the golden darkness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And green night of the woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flitting form I follow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shadow that eludes—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or is it but the phantom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of former forest moods?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The phantom of some fancy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I knew when I was young,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my dreaming boyhood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wildwood flow'rs among,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young face to face with Faery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spoke in no unknown tongue.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blue were her eyes, and golden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nimbus of her hair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crimson as a flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mouth that kissed me there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That kissed and bade me follow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiled away my care.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A magic and a marvel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lived in her word and look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As down among the blossoms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sate me by the brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And read me wonder-legends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In Nature's Story Book.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loved fairy-tales forgotten,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She never reads again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beautiful enchantments<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That haunt the sun and rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in the wind and water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chant a mysterious strain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so I search the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein my spirit feels,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In tree or stream or flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herself she still conceals—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But now she flies who followed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whom Earth no more reveals.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DISCOVERY" id="DISCOVERY"></a>DISCOVERY</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is it now that I shall seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where woods dip downward, in the hills?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mossy nook, a ferny creek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And May among the daffodils.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or in the valley's vistaed glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past rocks of terraced trumpet-vines,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I behold her coming slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet May, among the columbines?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With redbud cheeks and bluet eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Big eyes, the homes of happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet me with the old surprise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hoiden hair all bonnetless.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who waits for me, where, note for note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The birds make glad the forest-trees?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dogwood blossom at her throat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My May among the anemones.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As sweetheart breezes kiss the blooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dewdrops drink the moonlight's gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul shall kiss her lips' perfumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And drink the magic of her dreams.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="COMRADERY" id="COMRADERY"></a>COMRADERY</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With eyes hand-arched he looks into<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The morning's face, then turns away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With schoolboy feet, all wet with dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out for a holiday.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hill brook sings, incessant stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foam-fashioned, on its restless breast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where he wades its water-bars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its song is happiest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A comrade of the chinquapin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He looks into its knotted eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sees its heart; and, deep within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its soul that makes him wise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wood-thrush knows and follows him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who whistles up the birds and bees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And 'round him all the perfumes swim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of woodland loam and trees.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er he pass the supple springs'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foam-people sing the flowers awake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sappy lips of bark-clad things<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laugh ripe each fruited brake.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His touch is a companionship;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His word, an old authority:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He comes, a lyric at his lip,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unstudied Poesy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OCCULT" id="OCCULT"></a>OCCULT</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unto the soul's companionship<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of things that only seem to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth points with magic fingertip<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids thee see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Fancy keeps thee company.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For oft at dawn hast not beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit of prismatic hue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blow wide the buds, which night has swelled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stain them through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heav'n's ethereal gold and blue?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While at her side another went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gleams of enigmatic white?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A spirit who distributes scent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vale and height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In footsteps of the rosy light?<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And oft at dusk hast thou not seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star-fays bring their caravans<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dew, and glitter all the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night's shadow tans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From many starbeam sprinkling-cans?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor watched with these the elfins go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who tune faint instruments? whose sound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that moon-music insects blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sleeps, and the night is hushed around?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WOOD-WORDS" id="WOOD-WORDS"></a>WOOD-WORDS</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirits of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That to the winds give voice—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lie the livelong April day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder what it is they say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes the leaves rejoice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirits of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breathe in bud and bloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I walk within the black-haw brake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder how it is they make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bubbles of perfume.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirits of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That live in every spring—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lean above the brook's bright blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder what it is they do<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That makes the water sing.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirits of the forest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That haunt the sun's green glow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down fungus ways of fern I steal<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wonder what they can conceal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In dews, that twinkles so.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirits of the forest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They hold me, heart and hand—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! the bird they send by light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The jack-o'-lantern gleam by night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To guide to Fairyland!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The time when dog-tooth violets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hold up inverted horns of gold,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The elvish cups that Spring upsets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dripping feet, when April wets<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun-and-shadow-marbled wold,—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is come. And by each leafing way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sorrel drops pale blots of pink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like an angled star a fay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sets on her forehead's pallid day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blossoms of the trillium wink.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within the vale, by rock and stream,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fragile, fairy porcelain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blue as a baby's eyes a-dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bluets blow; and gleam in gleam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sun-shot dog-woods flash with rain.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is the time to cast off care;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make glad intimates of these:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frank-faced sunbeam laughing there;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The great-heart wind, that bids us share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The optimism of the trees.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The white ghosts of the flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green ghosts of the trees:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They haunt the blooming bowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They haunt the wildwood hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And whisper in the breeze.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For in the wildrose places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on the beechen knoll,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul hath seen their faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul hath met their races,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt their dim control.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Crab-apple buds, whose bells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mouth of April kissed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hang,—like rosy shells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around a naiad's wrist,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pink as dawn-tinted mist.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And paw-paw buds, whose dark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep auburn blossoms shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On boughs,—as 'neath the bark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dryad's eyes awake,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brown as a midnight lake.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These, with symbolic blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wind-flower and wild-phlox,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found among the glooms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hill-lost woods and rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lairs of the mink and fox.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The beetle in the brush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bird about the creek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bee within the hush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And I, whose heart was meek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood still to hear these speak.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The language, that records,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In flower-syllables,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hieroglyphic words<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of beauty, who enspells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world and aye compels.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_WIND_AT_NIGHT" id="THE_WIND_AT_NIGHT"></a>THE WIND AT NIGHT</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not till the wildman wind is shrill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Howling upon the hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In every wolfish tree, whose boisterous boughs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like desperate arms, gesture and beat the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And down huge clouds, in chasms of stormy white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The frightened moon hurries above the house,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I lie down; and, deep,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Letting the mad wind keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its shouting revel round me,—fall asleep.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not till its dark halloo is hushed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where wild waters rushed,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some hoofed terror underneath its whip<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spur of foam,—remains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ghostly glass, hill-framed; whereover stains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of moony mists and rains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stealthy starbeams, like vague specters, slip;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall I—with thoughts that take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto themselves the ache<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of silence as a sound—from sleep awake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="AIRY_TONGUES" id="AIRY_TONGUES"></a>AIRY TONGUES</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear a song the wet leaves lisp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Morn comes down the woodland way;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And misty as a thistle-wisp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her gown gleams windy gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A song, that seems to say,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Awake! 'tis day!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear a sigh, when Day sits down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside the sunlight-lulled lagoon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on her glistening hair and gown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose of rest is strewn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sigh, that seems to croon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Come sleep! 'tis noon!"<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear a whisper, when the stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon some evening-purpled height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Crown the dead Day with nenuphars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dreamy gold and white;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice, that seems t' invite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Come love! 'tis night!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before the rathe song-sparrow sings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the hawtrees in the lane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the wind the locust flings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its early clusters fresh with rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the morning-star, that swings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its rose of fire above the spire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the morning's watchet wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice that rings o'er brooks and boughs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Arouse! arouse!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before the first brown owlet cries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the grape-vines on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the dam with half-shut eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lilies rock above the mill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the oblong moon, that flies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its pearly flower above the tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the twilight's primrose skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice that sighs from east to west—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"To rest! to rest!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_HILLS" id="THE_HILLS"></a>THE HILLS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no joy of earth that thrills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My bosom like the far-off hills!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' unchanging hills, that, shadowy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beckon our mutability<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow and to gaze upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foundations of the dusk and dawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meseems the very heavens are massed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon their shoulders, vague and vast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the skyey burden of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The winds and clouds and stars above.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, how they sit before us, seeing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The laws that give all Beauty being!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold! to them, when dawn is near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The nomads of the air appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unfolding crimson camps of day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In brilliant bands; then march away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And under burning battlements<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of twilight plant their tinted tents.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The faith of olden myths, that brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By haunted stream and haunted wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They see; and feel the happiness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of old at which we only guess:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams, the ancients loved and knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still as their rocks and trees are true:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not otherwise than presences<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tempest and the calm to these:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One shouting on them, all the night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black-limbed and veined with lambent light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other with the ministry<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all soft things that company<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span><span class="i0">With music—an embodied form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giving to solitude the charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of leaves and waters and the peace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of bird-begotten melodies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And who at night doth still confer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the mild moon, who telleth her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale tale of lonely love, until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wan images of passion fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heights with shapes that glimmer by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clad on with sleep and memory.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IMPERFECTION" id="IMPERFECTION"></a>IMPERFECTION</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not as the eye hath seen, shall we behold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Romance and beauty, when we've passed away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That robed the dull facts of the intimate day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In life's wild raiment of unusual gold:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not as the ear hath heard, shall we be told,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hereafter, myth and legend once that lay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Warm at the heart of Nature, clothing clay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In attribute of no material mold.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These were imperfect of necessity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wrought thro' imperfection for far ends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of perfectness—As calm philosophy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teaching a child, from his high heav'n descends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To Earth's familiar things; informingly<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vesting his thoughts with that it comprehends.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ARCANNA" id="ARCANNA"></a>ARCANNA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Earth hath her images of utterance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her hieroglyphic meanings which elude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A symbol language of similitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into whose secrets science may not glance;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In which the Mind-in-Nature doth romance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In miracles that baffle if pursued—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No guess shall search them and no thought intrude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beyond the limits of her sufferance.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So doth the great Intelligence above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hide His own thought's creations; and attire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms in the dream's ideal, which He dowers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With immaterial loveliness and love—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As essences of fragrance and of fire—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preaching th' evangels of the stars and flowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SPRING" id="SPRING"></a>SPRING</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">First came the rain, loud, with sonorous lips;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pursuivant who heralded a prince:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dawn put on a livery of tints,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dusk bound gold about her hair and hips:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, all in silver mail, then sunlight came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A knight, who bade the winter let him pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And freed imprisoned beauty, naked as<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Court of Love, in all her wildflower shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so she came, in breeze-borne loveliness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the hills; and heav'n bent down to bless:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before her face the birds were as a lyre;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at her feet, like some strong worshiper,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shouting water pæan'd praise of her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who, with blue eyes, set the wild world on fire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RESPONSE" id="RESPONSE"></a>RESPONSE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a music of immaculate love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breathes within the virginal veins of Spring:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And trillium blossoms, like the stars that cling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To fairies' wands; and, strung on sprays above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White-hearts and mandrake blooms, that look enough<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the elves' washing, white with laundering<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of May-moon dews; and all pale-opening<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild-flowers of the woods, are born thereof.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no sod Spring's white foot brushes but<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must feel the music that vibrates within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrill to the communicated touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Responsive harmonies, that must unshut<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart of beauty for song's concrete kin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emotions—that be flowers—born of such.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FULFILLMENT" id="FULFILLMENT"></a>FULFILLMENT</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes, there are some who may look on these<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Essential peoples of the earth and air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That have the stars and flowers in their care—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all their soul-suggestive secrecies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heart-intimates and comrades of the trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from them learn, what no known schools declare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's knowledge; and from winds, that discourse there,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span><span class="i0">God's gospel of diviner mysteries:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom the waters shall divulge a word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fuller faith; the sunset and the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Preach sermons more inspired even than<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tongues of Penticost; as, distant heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In forms of change, through Nature upward drawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God doth address th' immortal soul of Man.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TRANSFORMATION" id="TRANSFORMATION"></a>TRANSFORMATION</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is the time when, by the forest falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The touchmenots hang fairy folly-caps;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When ferns and flowers fill the lichened laps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rocks with color, rich as orient shawls:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in my heart I hear a voice that calls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me woodward, where the Hamadryad wraps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her limbs in bark, or, bubbling in the saps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughs the sweet Greek of Pan's old madrigals.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a gleam that lures me up the stream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Naiad swimming with wet limbs of light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfume, that leads me on from dream to dream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An Oread's footprints fragrant with her flight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, lo! meseems I am a Faun again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Part of the myths that I pursue in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OMENS" id="OMENS"></a>OMENS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sad o'er the hills the poppy sunset died.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slow as a fungus breaking through the crusts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of forest leaves, the waning half-moon thrusts,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span><span class="i0">Through gray-brown clouds, one milky silver side;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her vague light the dogwoods, vale-descried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seem nervous torches flourished by the gusts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The apple-orchards seem the restless dusts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wind-thinned mists upon the hills they hide.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a night of omens whom late May<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meets, like a wraith, among her train of hours;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An apparition, with appealing eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hesitant foot, that walks a willowed way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, speaking through the fading moon and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bids her prepare her gentle soul to die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ABANDONED" id="ABANDONED"></a>ABANDONED</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hornets build in plaster-dropping rooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on its mossy porch the lizard lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around its chimneys slow the swallow flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on its roof the locusts snow their blooms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some sad thought that broods here, old perfumes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunt its dim stairs; the cautious zephyr tries<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each gusty door, like some dead hand, then sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ghostly lips among the attic glooms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now a heron, now a kingfisher,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flits in the willows where the riffle seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At each faint fall to hesitate to leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fluttering the silence with a little stir.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here Summer seems a placid face asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the near world a figment of her dreams.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_CREEK-ROAD" id="THE_CREEK-ROAD"></a>THE CREEK-ROAD</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Calling, the heron flies athwart the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sleeps above it; reach on rocky reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of water sings by sycamore and beech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In whose warm shade bloom lilies not a few.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It is a page whereon the sun and dew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scrawl sparkling words in dawn's delicious speech;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A laboratory where the wood-winds teach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissect each scent and analyze each hue.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not otherwise than beautiful, doth it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Record the happ'nings of each summer day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we may read, as in a catalogue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When passed a thresher; when a load of hay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or when a rabbit; or a bird that lit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now a bare-foot truant and his dog.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_COVERED_BRIDGE" id="THE_COVERED_BRIDGE"></a>THE COVERED BRIDGE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, from its entrance, lost in matted vines,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where in the valley foams a water-fall,—-<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is glimpsed a ruined mill's remaining wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, by the road, the oxeye daisy mines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hot brass and bronze; the trumpet-trailer shines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red as the plumage of the cardinal.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint from the forest comes the rain-crow's call<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where dusty Summer dreams among the pines.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the spot where Spring writes wildflower verses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In primrose pink, while, drowsing o'er his reins,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span><span class="i0">The ploughman, all unnoticing, plods along:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the Autumn opens weedy purses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sleepy silver, while the corn-heaped wains<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rumble the bridge like some deep throat of song.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_HILLSIDE_GRAVE" id="THE_HILLSIDE_GRAVE"></a>THE HILLSIDE GRAVE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ten-hundred deep the drifted daisies break<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here at the hill's foot; on its top, the wheat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs meagre-bearded; and, in vague retreat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wisp-like blooms of the moth-mulleins shake.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the wild-pink drops a crimson flake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And morning-glories, like young lips, make sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shaded hush, low in the honeyed heat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild-bees hum; as if afraid to wake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sleeping there; with no white stone to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The story of existence; but the stem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of one wild-rose, towering o'er brier and weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all the day the wild-birds requiem;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within whose shade the timid violets spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An epitaph, only the stars can read.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SIMULACRA" id="SIMULACRA"></a>SIMULACRA</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark in the west the sunset's somber wrack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unrolled vast walls the rams of war had split,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along whose battlements the battle lit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tempestuous beacons; and, with gates hurled back,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mighty city, red with ruin and sack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through burning breaches, crumbling bit by bit,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span><span class="i0">Showed where the God of Slaughter seemed to sit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With conflagration glaring at each crack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who knows? perhaps as sleep unto us makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our dreams as real as our waking seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With recollections time can not destroy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in the mind of Nature now awakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply some wilder memory, and she dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stormy story of the fall of Troy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BEFORE_THE_END" id="BEFORE_THE_END"></a>BEFORE THE END</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How does the Autumn in her mind conclude<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tragic masque her frosty pencil writes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Broad on the pages of the days and nights,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In burning lines of orchard, wold, and wood?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What lonelier forms—that at the year's door stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At spectral wait—with wildly wasted lights<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall enter? and with melancholy rites<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inaugurate their sadder sisterhood?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow, who lifts a signal hand, and slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The green leaf fevers, falling ere it dies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Regret, whose pale lips summon, and gaunt Woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wakes the wild-wind harps with sonorous sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sleep, who sits with poppied eyes and sees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth and sky grow dream-accessories.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="WINTER" id="WINTER"></a>WINTER</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flute, whence Autumn's misty finger-tips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drew music—ripening the pinched kernels in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The burly chestnut and the chinquapin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red-rounding-out the oval haws and hips,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span><span class="i0">Now Winter crushes to his stormy lips<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And surly songs whistle around his chin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the wild days and wilder nights begin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When, at the eaves, the crooked icicle drips.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy songs, O Autumn, are not lost so soon!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still dwells a memory in thy hollow flute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which, unto Winter's masculine airs, doth give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy own creative qualities of tune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By which we see each bough bend white with fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each bush with bloom, in snow commemorative.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HOAR-FROST" id="HOAR-FROST"></a>HOAR-FROST</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The frail eidolons of all blossoms Spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Year after year, about the forest tossed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The magic touch of the enchanter, Frost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back from the Heaven of the Flow'rs doth bring;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each branch and bush in silence visiting<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With phantom beauty of its blooms long lost:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each dead weed bends, white-haunted of its ghost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each dead flower stands ghostly with blossoming.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the wonder-legend Nature tells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the gray moon and mist a winter's night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fairy-tale, which her weird fancy 'spells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the glamour of her soul's delight:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the summoning sorcery of her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making her spirit's dream materialize.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_WINTER_MOON" id="THE_WINTER_MOON"></a>THE WINTER MOON</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep in the dell I watched her as she rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A face of icy fire, o'er the hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With snow-sad eyes to freeze the forest rills,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span><span class="i0">And snow-sad feet to bleach the meadow snows:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale as some young witch who, a-listening, goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her first meeting with the Fiend; whose fears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fix demon eyes behind each bush she nears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stops, yet must on, fearful of following foes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so I chased her, startled in the wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a discovered Oread, who flies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Faun who found her sleeping, each nude limb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Glittering betrayal through the solitude;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till in a frosty cloud I saw her swim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a drowned face, a blur beneath the ice.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="IN_SUMMER" id="IN_SUMMER"></a>IN SUMMER</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When in dry hollows, hilled with hay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vesper-sparrow sings afar;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, golden gray, dusk dies away<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the amber evening-star:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, where a warm and shadowy arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The woodland lays around the farm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To meet you where we kissed, dear heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kiss you at the tryst, dear heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kiss you at the tryst!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When clover fields smell cool with dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And crickets cry, and roads are still;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And faint and few the fire-flies strew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark where calls the whippoorwill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There, in the lane, where sweet again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The petals of the wild-rose rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To stroll with head to head, dear heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say the words oft said, dear heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say the words oft said!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="RAIN_AND_WIND" id="RAIN_AND_WIND"></a>RAIN AND WIND</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I hear the hoofs of horses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Galloping over the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Galloping on and galloping on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When all the night is shrill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wind and rain that beats the pane—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And my soul with awe is still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For every dripping window<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their headlong rush makes bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Galloping up, and galloping by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then back again and around,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till the gusty roofs ring with their hoofs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the draughty cellars sound.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then I hear black horsemen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hallooing in the night;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hallooing and hallooing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They ride o'er vale and height,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the branches snap and the shutters clap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the fury of their flight.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then at each door a horseman,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With burly bearded lip<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hallooing through the keyhole,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pauses with cloak a-drip;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the door-knob shakes and the panel quakes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the anger of his whip.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All night I hear their gallop,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their wild halloo's alarm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tree-tops sound and vanes go round<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In forest and on farm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never a hair of a thing is there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the wind and storm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="UNDER_ARCTURUS" id="UNDER_ARCTURUS"></a>UNDER ARCTURUS</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I belt the morn with ribboned mist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With baldricked blue I gird the noon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dusk with purple, crimson-kissed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">White-buckled with the hunter's moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"These follow me," the season says:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Mine is the frost-pale hand that packs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their scrips, and speeds them on their ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gipsy gold that weighs their backs."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A daybreak horn the Autumn blows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As with a sun-tanned band he parts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wet boughs whereon the berry glows;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And at his feet the red-fox starts.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The leafy leash that holds his hounds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is loosed; and all the noonday hush<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is startled; and the hillside sounds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the fox's bounding brush.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When red dusk makes the western sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fire-lit window through the firs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stoops to see the red-fox die<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the chestnut's broken burs.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then fanfaree and fanfaree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down vistas of the afterglow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bugle rings from tree to tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the world grows hushed below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like some black host the shadows fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darkness camps among the trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each wildwood road, a Goblin Hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grows populous with mysteries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night comes with brows of ragged storm,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And limbs of writhen cloud and mist;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rain-wind hangs upon her arm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some wild girl that will be kissed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By her gaunt hand the leaves are shed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like nightmares an enchantress herds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a witch who calls the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hill-stream whirls with foaming words.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then all is sudden silence and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark fear—like his who can not see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet hears, aye in a haunted land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death rattling on a gallow's tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The days approach again; the days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose mantles stream, whose sandals drag;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the haze by puddled ways<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each gnarled thorn seems a crookéd hag.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When rotting orchards reek with rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woodlands crumble, leaf and log;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the drizzling yard again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gourd is tagged with points of fog.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, let me seat my soul among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your melancholy moods! and touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your thoughts' sweet sorrow without tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose silence says too much, too much!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OCTOBER" id="OCTOBER"></a>OCTOBER</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long hosts of sunlight, and the bright wind blows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tourney trumpet on the listed hill:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past is the splendor of the royal rose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And duchess daffodil.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Crowned queen of beauty, in the garden's space,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strong daughter of a bitter race and bold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A ragged beggar with a lovely face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reigns the sad marigold.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I have sought June's butterfly for days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find it—like a coreopsis bloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Amber and seal, rain-murdered 'neath the blaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of this sunflower's plume.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here basks the bee; and there, sky-voyaging wings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dare God's blue gulfs of heaven; the last song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The red-bird flings me as adieu, still rings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon yon pear-tree's prong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No angry sunset brims with rosier red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bowl of heaven than the days, indeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pour in each blossom of this salvia-bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where each leaf seems to bleed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And where the wood-gnats dance, a tiny mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the efforts of the weedy stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The girl, October, tired of the tryst,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams a diviner dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One foot just dipping the caressing wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One knee at languid angle; locks that drown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hands nut-stained; hazel-eyed, she lies, and grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Watching the leaves drift down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BARE_BOUGHS" id="BARE_BOUGHS"></a>BARE BOUGHS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O heart, that beat the bird's blithe blood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The blithe bird's message that pursued,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now song is dead as last year's bud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What dost thou in the wood?<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O soul, that kept the brook's glad flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The glad brook's word to sun and moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What dost thou here where song lies low<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As all the dreams of June?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where once was heard a voice of song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hautboys of the mad winds sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where once a music flowed along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rain's wild bugles ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The weedy water frets and ails,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And moans in many a sunless fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, o'er the melancholy, trails<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The black crow's eldritch call.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unhappy brook! O withered wood!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O days, whom death makes comrades of!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are the birds that thrilled the blood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When life struck hands with love?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A song, one soared against the blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A song, one bubbled in the leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A song, one threw where orchards grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All appled to the eaves.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But now the birds are flown or dead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sky and earth are bleak and gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild winds sob i' the boughs instead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wild leaves sigh i' the way.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_THRENODY" id="A_THRENODY"></a>A THRENODY</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rainy smell of a ferny dell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose shadow no sunray flaws,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Autumn sits in the wayside weeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Telling her beads<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of haws.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The phantom mist, that is moonbeam-kissed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On hills where the trees are thinned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Autumn leans at the oak-root's scarp,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Playing a harp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The crickets' chirr 'neath brier and burr,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By leaf-strewn pools and streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Autumn stands 'mid the dropping nuts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the book, she shuts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dreams.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gray "alas" of the days that pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hope that says "adieu,"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A parting sorrow, a shriveled flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one ghost's hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="SNOW" id="SNOW"></a>SNOW</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moon, like a round device<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On a shadowy shield of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hangs white in a heaven of ice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a solitary star.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wind is sunk to a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the waters are stern with frost;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gray, in the eastern sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last snow-cloud is lost.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White fields, that are winter-starved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black woods, that are winter-fraught,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cold, harsh as a face death-carved<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the iron of some black thought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="VAGABONDS" id="VAGABONDS"></a>VAGABONDS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Your heart's a-tune with April and mine a-tune with June,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let us go a-roving beneath the summer moon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, was it in the sunlight, or was it in the rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We met among the blossoms within the locust lane?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All that I can remember's the bird that sang aboon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with its music in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A love-word of the wind, dear, of which we'll read the rune,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A love-kiss of the water we'll often stop to hear—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The echoed words and kisses of our own love, my dear:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all our path shall blossom with wild-rose sweets that swoon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with their fragrance in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It will not be forever, yet merry goes the tune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cabin, in the clearing, of flickering firelight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When old-time lanes we strolled in the winter snows make white:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we can nod together above the logs and croon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The songs we sang when roving beneath the summer moon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="AN_OLD_SONG" id="AN_OLD_SONG"></a>AN OLD SONG</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's Oh, for the hills, where the wind's some one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a vagabond foot that follows!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a cheer-up hand that he claps upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your arm with the hearty words, "Come on!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll soon be out of the hollows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll soon be out of the hollows!"<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It's Oh, for the songs, where the hope's some one<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a renegade foot that doubles!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a kindly look that he turns upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your face with the friendly laugh, "Come on!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll soon be out of the troubles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My heart!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We'll soon be out of the troubles!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_ROSE_O_THE_HILLS" id="A_ROSE_O_THE_HILLS"></a>A ROSE O' THE HILLS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hills look down on wood and stream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On orchard-land and farm;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the hills the azure-gray<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of heaven bends the livelong day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With thoughts of calm and storm.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On wood and stream the hills look down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On farm and orchard-land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the hills she came to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through wildrose-brake and blackberry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hill wind hand in hand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The hills look down on home and field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On wood and winding stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the hills she came along,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon her lips a woodland song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her eyes, a dream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On home and field the hills look down,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On stream and vistaed wood;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And breast-deep, with disordered hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair in the wildrose tangle there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sudden space she stood.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O hills, that look on rock and road,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On grove and harvest-field,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whom God giveth rest and peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And slumber, that is kin to these,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And visions unrevealed!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O hills, that look on road and rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On field and fruited grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What now is mine of peace and rest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In you! since entered at my breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God's sweet unrest of love!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DIRGE" id="DIRGE"></a>DIRGE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What shall her silence keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the sun?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, where the willows weep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And waters run;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, where she lies asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all is done.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lights, when the tree-top swings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scents that are sown;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sounds of the wood-bird's wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bee's drone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These be her comfortings<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the stone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What shall watch o'er her here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When day is fled?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, when the night is near<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span><span class="i0">And skies are red;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, where she lieth dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And young and dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shadows, and winds that spill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dew; and the tune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the wild whippoorwill;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the white moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These be the watchers still<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over her stone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REST" id="REST"></a>REST</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under the brindled beech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the mottled shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the rocks hang in reach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flower and ferny blade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him be laid.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here will the brooks, that rove<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under the mossy trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grave with the music of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Underworld melodies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lap him in peace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here will the winds, that blow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the haunted west,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gold with the dreams that glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There on the heaven's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lull him to rest.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here will the stars and moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent and far and deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old with the mystic rune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the slow years that creep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charm him with sleep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Under the ancient beech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the mossy shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hill moods may reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the hill dreams may aid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let him be laid.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CLAIRVOYANCE" id="CLAIRVOYANCE"></a>CLAIRVOYANCE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sunlight that makes of the heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A pathway for sylphids to throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind that makes harps of the forests<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For spirits to smite into song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are the image and voice of a vision<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That comforts my heart and makes strong.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I look in one's face, and the shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are lifted: and, lo, I can see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through windows of evident being,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That open on eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The form of the essence of Beauty<br /></span> +<span class="i0">God clothes with His own mystery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I lean to one's voice, and the wrangle<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of living hath pause: and I hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through doors of invisible spirit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That open on light that is clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The radiant raiment of Music<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the hush of the heavens sweep near.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="INDIFFERENCE" id="INDIFFERENCE"></a>INDIFFERENCE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is so dear the wildflowers near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each path she passes by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are over fain to kiss again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her feet and then to die.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is so fair the wild birds there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sing upon the bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have learned the staff of her sweet laugh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing no other now.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! that she should never see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Should never care to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wildflower's love, the bird's above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And his, who loves her so!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PICTURED" id="PICTURED"></a>PICTURED</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This is the face of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've dreamed of long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in my heart's despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the face of her<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pictured in song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look on the lily lids,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eyes of dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep as a Nereid's,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swimming with dewy lids<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In waters wan.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look on the brows of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The locks brown-bright;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only young sleep can show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such brows of placid snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such locks of night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cheeks, like rosy moons,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lips of fire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love thinks no sweeter tunes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under enchanted moons<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than their desire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loved lips and eyes and hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo, this is she!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She, who sits smiling there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over my heart's despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never for me!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SERENADE" id="SERENADE"></a>SERENADE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The pink rose drops its petals on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moonlit lawn, the moonlit lawn;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon, like some wide rose of white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drops down the summer night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No rose there is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sweet as this—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy mouth, that greets me with a kiss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lattice of thy casement twines<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With jasmine vines, with jasmine vines;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars, like jasmine blossoms, lie<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span><span class="i0">About the glimmering sky.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No jasmine tress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can so caress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As thy white arms' soft loveliness.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">About thy door magnolia blooms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make sweet the glooms, make sweet the glooms;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A moon-magnolia is the dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Closed in a dewy husk.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">However much,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No bloom gives such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft fragrance as thy bosom's touch.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flowers, blooming now, shall pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And strew the grass, and strew the grass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night, like some frail flower, dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall soon make gray and wan.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still, still above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flower of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">True love shall live forever, love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="KINSHIP" id="KINSHIP"></a>KINSHIP</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no flower of wood or lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No April flower, as fair as she:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O white anemone, who hast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind's wild grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Know her a cousin of thy race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into whose face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A presence like the wind's hath passed.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no flower of wood or lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No Maytime flower, as fair as she:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O bluebell, tender with the blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of limpid skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy lineage hath kindred ties<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In her, whose eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heav'n's own qualities imbue.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no flower of wood or lea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No Juneday flower, as fair as she:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rose,—odorous with beauty of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's first and best,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold thy sister here confessed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose maiden breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is fragrant with the dreams of love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SHE_IS_SO_MUCH" id="SHE_IS_SO_MUCH"></a>SHE IS SO MUCH</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She is so much to me, to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! I love her so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look into my soul and see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How comfort keeps me company<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hopes she, too, may know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love her, I love her, I love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This I know.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So dear she is to me, so dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! I love her so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I listen in my heart and hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The voice of gladness singing near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In thoughts she, too, may know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love her, I love her, I love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This I know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So much she is to me, so much,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, oh! I love her so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heart and soul I feel the touch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of angel callers, that are such<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams as she, too, may know.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I love her, I love her, I love her,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This I know.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HER_EYES" id="HER_EYES"></a>HER EYES</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In her dark eyes dreams poetize;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul sits lost in love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is no thing in all the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To gladden all the world I prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the deep love in her dark eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or one sweet dream thereof.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In her dark eyes, where thoughts arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soul's soft moods I see:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hope and faith, that make life wise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And charity, whose food is sighs—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not truer than her own true eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is truth's divinity.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In her dark eyes the knowledge lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of an immortal sod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soul once trod in angel-guise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor can forget its heavenly ties,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since, there in Heaven, upon her eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once gazed the eyes of God.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="MESSENGERS" id="MESSENGERS"></a>MESSENGERS</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wind, that gives the rose a kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With murmured music of the south,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wind, that gives the rose a kiss—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The perfume of her mouth.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And echoes in a grottoed place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath held a fairer thing than these,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The image of her face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O happy wind! O happy brook!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So dear before, so free of cares!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How dearer since her kiss and look,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O happy wind! O happy brook!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have blessed you unawares!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AT_TWENTY-ONE" id="AT_TWENTY-ONE"></a>AT TWENTY-ONE</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rosy hills of her high breasts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon, like misty morning, rests<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The breathing lace; her auburn hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein, a star point sparkling there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One jewel burns; her eyes, that keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recorded dreams of song and sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mouth, with whose comparison<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The richest rose were poor and wan;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her throat, her form—what masterpiece<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of man can picture half of these!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She comes! a classic from the hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of God! wherethrough I understand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What Nature means and Art and Love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all the lovely Myths thereof.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="BABY_MARY" id="BABY_MARY"></a>BABY MARY</h2> + +<h3>TO LITTLE M. E. C. G.</h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Deep in baby Mary's eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baby Mary's sweet blue eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dwell the golden memories<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the music once her ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard in far-off Paradise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So she has no time for tears,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baby Mary,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Listening to the songs she hears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Soft in baby Mary's face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baby Mary's lovely face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If you watch, you, too, may trace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams her spirit-self hath seen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some far-off Eden-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whence her soul she can not wean,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Baby Mary,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming in a world between.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_MOTIVE_IN_GOLD_AND_GRAY" id="A_MOTIVE_IN_GOLD_AND_GRAY"></a>A MOTIVE IN GOLD AND GRAY</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To-night he sees their star burn, dewy-bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the pansy, eve hath made for it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low in the west; a placid purple lit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At its far edge with warm auroral light:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's planet hangs above a cedared height;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there in shadow, like gold music writ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dusk's dark fingers, scale-like fire-flies flit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now up, now down the balmy bars of night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How different from that eve a year ago!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which was a stormy flower in the hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dolorous day, whose sombre eyes looked, blurred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into night's sibyl face, and saw the woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of parting near, and imaged a despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As now a hope caught from a homing word.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She came unto him—as the springtime does<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the land where all lies dead and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until her rosary of days is told<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And beauty, prayer-like, blossoms where death was.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature divined her coming—yea, the dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed thinking of that happiness: behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No cloud it had to blot its marigold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moon, great and golden, o'er the slopes of musk;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon earth's voice made music; leaf and stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lilting the same low lullaby again,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span><span class="i0">To coax the wind, who romped among the hills<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day, a tired child, to sleep and dream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When through the moonlight of the locust-lane<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She came, as spring comes through her daffodils.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White as a lily molded of Earth's milk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That eve the moon swam in a hyacinth sky;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft in the gleaming glens the wind went by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faint as a phantom clothed in unseen silk:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bright as a naiad's leap, from shine to shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The runnel twinkled through the shaken brier;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the hills one long cloud, pulsed with fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flashed like a great, enchantment-welded blade.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the western sky seemed some weird land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And night a witching spell at whose command<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sloping star fell green from heav'n; and deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The warm rose opened for the moth to sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then she, consenting, laid her hands in his,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lifted up her lips for their first kiss.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There where they part, the porch's step is strewn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wind-tossed petals of the purple vine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the porch the shadow of a pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cleaves the white moonlight; and, like some calm rune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaven says to Earth, shines the majestic moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now a meteor draws a lilac line<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Across the welkin, as if God would sign<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The perfect poem of this night of June.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span><span class="i0">The wood-wind stirs the flowering chestnut-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose curving blossoms strew the glimmering grass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like crescents that wind-wrinkled waters glass;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like a moonstone in a frill of flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dew-drop trembles on the peony,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in a lover's heart his sweetheart's name.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In after years shall she stand here again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In heart regretful? and with lonely sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Think on that night of love, and realize<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose was the fault whence grew the parting pain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in her soul, persuading still in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall doubt take shape, and all its old surmise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bid darker phantoms of remorse arise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trailing the raiment of a dead disdain?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Masks, unto whom shall her avowal yearn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With looks clairvoyant seeing how each is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A different form, with eyes and lips that burn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into her heart with love's last look and kiss?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, ere they pass, shall she behold them turn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To her a face which evermore is his?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In after years shall he remember how<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dawn had no breeze soft as her murmured name?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And day no sunlight that availed the same<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As her bright smile to cheer the world below?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor had the conscious twilight's golds and grays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her soul's allurement, that was free of blame,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span><span class="i0">Nor dusk's gold canvas, where one star's white flame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone, more bewitchment than her own sweet ways.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then as the night with moonlight and perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dew and darkness, qualifies the whole<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim world with glamour, shall the past with dreams—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That were the love-theme of their lives—illume<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The present with remembered hours, whose gleams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unknown to him, shall face them soul to soul?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No! not for her and him that part;—-the Might-<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have-Been's sad consolation;—where had bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haply, in prayer and patience penitent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both, though apart, before no blown-out light.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The otherwise of fate for them, when white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lilacs bloom again, and, innocent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring comes with beauty for her testament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing the praises of the day and night.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When orchards blossom and the distant hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is vague with haw-trees as a ridge with mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon shall see him where a watch he keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By her young form that lieth white and still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With lidded eyes and passive wrist on wrist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While by her side he bows himself and weeps.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, oh, what pain to see the blooms appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of haw and dogwood in the spring again;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span><span class="i0">The primrose leaning with the dragging rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hill-locked orchards swarming far and near.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the old fields, that her steps made dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow green with deepening plenty of the grain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet feel how this excess of life is vain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How vain to him!—since she no more is here.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What though the woodland burgeon, water flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a rejoicing harp, beneath the boughs!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cat-bird and the hermit-thrush arouse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day with the impulsive music of their love!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the graveyard sod she will not know,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor what his heart is all too conscious of!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How blessed is he who, gazing in the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can yet behold, beneath th' investing mask<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mockery,—whose horror seems to ask<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sphinx-riddles of the soul within the gloom,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon dead lips no dust of Love's dead bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in dead hands no shards of Faith's rent flask;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Hope, who still stands at her starry task,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Weaving the web of comfort on her loom!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice blessed! who, 'though he hear the tomb proclaim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How all is Death's and Life Death's other name;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can yet reply: "O Grave, these things are yours!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But that is left which life indeed assures—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, through whose touch I shall arise the same!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, of whose self was wrought the universe!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_REED_SHAKEN_WITH_THE_WIND" id="A_REED_SHAKEN_WITH_THE_WIND"></a>A REED SHAKEN WITH THE WIND</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for you and me the path<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winding through the shadowless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fields of morning's dewiness!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the brook, that hurries, hath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laughter lighter than a boy's;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where recurrent odors poise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Romp-like, with irreverent tresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the sun; and birds and boughs<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Build a music-haunted house<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the winds to hang their dresses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whisper-silken, rustling in.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ours a path that led unto<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twilight regions gray with dew;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where moon-vapors gathered thin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over acres sisterless<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all healthy beauty; where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fungus growths made sad the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a phantom-like caress:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Under darkness and strange stars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the sorrow-silenced bars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a dubious forestland,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the wood-scents seemed to stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sounds, on either hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clad like sleep's own servitors<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the shadowy livery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the ancient house of dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That before us,—fitfully,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With white intermittent gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its pale-lamped windows,—shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Echoing with the dim unknown.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span></p> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To say to hope,—Take all from me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grant me naught:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rose, the song, the melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The word, the thought:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then all my life bid me be slave,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is all I crave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To say to time,—Be true to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor grant me less<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dream, the sigh, the memory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The heart's distress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then unto death set me a task,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is all I ask.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I came to you when eve was young.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, where the park went downward to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The river, and, among the dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One vesper moment lit and sung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A bird, your eyes said something dear.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How sweet it was to walk with you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, with our souls, we seemed to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkness coming with its stars!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How calm the moon sloped up her sphere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fire-filled pearl through passive bars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of clouds that berged the tender east!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the dark inanimate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of nature woke; initiate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With th' moon's arrival, something ceased<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In nature's soul; she stood again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Another self, that seemed t' have been<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span><span class="i0">Dormant, suppressed and so unseen<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All day; a life, unknown and strange<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dream-suggestive, that had lain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Masked on with light,—within the range<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thought, but unrevealed till now.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was the hour of love. And you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With downward eyes and pensive brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Among the moonlight and the dew,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Although no word of love was spoken,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heard the sweet night's confession broken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of something here that spoke in me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A love, depth made inaudible,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save to your soul, that answered well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes replying silently.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair you are as a rose is fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There where the shadows dew it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the deeps of your brown, brown hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet as the cloud that lingers there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the sunset's auburn through it.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eyes of azure and throat of snow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell me what my heart would know!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Every dream I dream of you<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has a love-thought in it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a hope, a kiss or two,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something dear and something true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Telling me each minute,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With three words it whispers clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What my heart from you would hear.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Summer came; the days grew kind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With increasing favors; deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were the nights with rest and sleep:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fair, with poppies intertwined<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On their blonde locks, dreamy hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sunny-hearted as the rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Went among the banded flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Teaching them, how no one knows,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fresher color and perfume.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the window of your room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bloomed a rich azalea. Pink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As an egret's rosy plumes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone its tender-tufted blooms.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From your care and love, I think,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love's rose-color it did drink,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Growing rosier day by day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of your 'tending hand's caress;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your own dear naturalness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had imbued it in some way.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once you gave a blossom of it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiling, to me when I left:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Need I tell you how I love it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faded though it is now!—Reft<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of its fragrance and its color,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet 'tis dearer now than then,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As past happiness is when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We regret. And dimmer, duller<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though its beauty be, when I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look upon it, I recall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every part of that old wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dingy window high,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span><span class="i0">Where you sat and read; and all<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fond love that made your face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A soft sunbeam in that place:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the plant, that grew this bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Withered here, itself long dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes a halo overhead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There again—and through my room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like faint whispers of perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steal the words of love then said.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All of my love I send to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I send to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thoughts, like paths, that wend to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in my heart's glad garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein, its lovely warden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your face, a lily seeming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is dreaming.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All of my life I bring to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I bring to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In deeds, like birds, that sing to you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, in my soul's sweet valley,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherethrough, most musically,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your love, a fountain, glistens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listens.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My love, my life, how blessed in you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How blessed in you!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose thoughts, whose deeds find rest in you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, on my self's dark ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereo'er, in heavenly motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your soul, a star, abideth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And guideth.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where the old Kentucky wound<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through the land,—its stream between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hills of primitive forest green,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a goodly belt around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Giant breasts of grandeur; with<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many an unknown Indian myth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the boat we steamed. The land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an hospitable hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcomed us. Alone we sat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the under-deck, and saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farm-house and plantation draw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Near and vanish. 'Neath your hat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your young eyes laughed; and your hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blown about them by the air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of our passage, clung and curled.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music, and the summer moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the hills' great shadows hewn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of silence; and the tune<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the whistle, when we whirled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Round a moonlit bend in sight of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some lone landing heaped with hay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tobacco; where the light of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One dim solitary lamp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Signaled through the evening's damp:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then a bell; and, dusky gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shuffling figures on the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the cable; rugged forms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the gang-plank; backs and arms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their cargo bending o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the burly mate before.<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span><span class="i0">Then an iron bell, and puff<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of escaping steam; and out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the stream is wheel-whipped rough;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music, and a parting shout<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the shore; the pilot's bell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beating on the deck below;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then the steady, quivering, slow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smooth advance again. Until<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Twinkling lights beyond us tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's a lock or little town,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Clasped between a hill and hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the blue-grass fields slope down.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we went. That summer-time<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lingers with me like a rhyme<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Learned for dreamy beauty of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its old-fashioned faith and love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some musing moment; sith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heart-associated with<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Joy that moment's quiet bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thought repeated evermore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three sweet things love lives upon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Music, at whose fountain's brink<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still he stoops his face to drink;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing, as the wave is drawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His own image rise and sink.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three sweet things love lives upon.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three sweet things love lives upon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Odor, whose red roses wreathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His bright brow that shines beneath;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing, as each bud is blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His own spirit breathe and breathe.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three sweet things love lives upon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three sweet things love lives upon:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Color, to whose rainbow he<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifts his dark eyes burningly;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeling, as the wild hues dawn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His own immortality.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Three sweet things love lives upon.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Memories of other days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the whilom happiness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise before my musing gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the twilight ... And your dress<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems beside me, like a haze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shimmering white; as when we went<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath the star-strewn firmament,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love-led, with impatient feet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the night that, summer-sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sparkled o'er the lamp-lit street.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Every look love gave us then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comes before my eyes again,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making music for my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that path, that grew for us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roses, red and amorous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On that path, from which oft start,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span><span class="i0">Out of recollected places,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With remembered forms and faces,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreams, love's ardent hands have woven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my life's dark tapestry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beckoning, soft and shadowy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the soul. And o'er the cloven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gulf of time, I seem to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Words, once whispered in the ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calling—as might friends long dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With familiar voices, deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak to those who lie asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comforting—So I was led<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Backward to forgotten things,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Contiguities that spread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sudden unremembered wings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And across my mind's still blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the nest they fledged in, flew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dazzling shapes affection knew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! over full my heart is<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sadness and of pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a rose-flower in the garden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dull dusk fills with rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a blown red rose that shivers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bends to the wind and rain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So give me thy hands and speak me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As once in the days of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When love spoke sweetly to us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The love that speaks no more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sound of thy voice may help him<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To speak in our hearts once more.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! over grieved my soul is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tired and sick for sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a poppy-bloom that withers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forgotten, where reapers reap;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a harvested poppy-flower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dies where reapers reap.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So bend to my face and kiss me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As once in the days of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the touch of thy lips was magic<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That restored to life once more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thought of thy kiss, which awakens<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To life that love once more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sitting often I have, oh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often have desired you so—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yearned to kiss you as I did<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When your love to me you gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the moonlight, by the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a long impetuous kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pressed upon your mouth that chid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And upon each dewy lid—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That, all passion-shaken, I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love language will address<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each dear thing I know you by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Picture, needle-work or frame:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each suggestive in the same<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perfume of past happiness:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till, meseems, the ways we knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now again I tread with you<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span><span class="i0">From the oldtime tryst: and there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feel the pressure of your hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cool and easy on my cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your breath's aroma: bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hand upon my arm, as weak<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a lily on a stream:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And your eyes, that gaze at me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the sometime witchery,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To my inmost spirit speak.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And remembered ecstacy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweeps my soul again ... I seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dreaming, yet I do not dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When day dies, lone, forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And joy is kissed asleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When doubt's gray eyes awaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love, with music taken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hearts with sighings shaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits in the dusk to weep:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With ghostly lifted finger<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What memory then shall rise?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dark regret the bringer—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell the sorrowing singer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of days whose echoes linger,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till dawn unstars the skies.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When night is gone and, beaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Faith journeys forth to toil;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When hope's blue eyes wake gleaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And life is done with dreaming<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams that seem but seeming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the world's turmoil:<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can we forget the presence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of death who walks unseen?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose scythe casts shadowy crescents<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around life's glittering essence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As lessens, slowly lessens,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The space that lies between.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bland was that October day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calm and balmy as the spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When we went a forest-way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath paternal beeches gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a valleyed opening:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the purple aster flowered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, like torches shadow-held,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red the fiery sumach towered;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, where gum-trees sentineled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vistas, robed in gold and garnet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ripe the thorny chestnut shelled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its brown plumpness. Bee and hornet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Droned around us; quick the cricket,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tireless in the wood-rose thicket,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span><span class="i0">Tremoloed; and, to the wind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All its moon-spun silver casting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swung the milk-weed pod unthinned;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, its clean flame on the sod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the fading golden-rod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Burned the white life-everlasting.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It was not so much the time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the place, nor way we went,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made all our moods to rhyme,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor the season's sentiment,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As it was the innocent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Carefree childhood of our hearts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reading each expression of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death and care as life and love:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That impression joy imparts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto others and retorts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On itself, which then made glad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the sorrow of decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As the memory of that day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Makes this day of spring, now, sad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The balsam-breathed petunias<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hang riven of the rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the tiger-lily was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now droops a tawny stain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While in the twilight's purple pause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth dreams of Heaven again.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When one shall sit and sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one lie all alone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beneath the unseen sky—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose love shall then deny?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose love atone?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With ragged petals round its pod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rain-wrecked poppy dies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the hectic rose did nod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A crumbled crimson lies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While distant as the dreams of God<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars slip in the skies.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When one shall lie asleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one be dead and gone—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the unknown deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we the trysts then keep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That now are done?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Holding both your hands in mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Often have we sat together,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While, outside, the boisterous weather<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hung the wild wind on the pine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a black marauder, and<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a sudden warning hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the casement rapped. The night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Read no sentiment of light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starbeam-syllabled, within<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her romance of death and sin,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span><span class="i0">Shadow-chaptered tragicly.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking in your eyes, ah me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though I heard, I did not heed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What the night read unto us,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Threatening and ominous:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For love helped my heart to read<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forward through unopened pages<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To a coming day, that held<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More for us than all the ages<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past, that it epitomized<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its sentence; where we spelled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What our present realized<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only—all the love that was<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Past and yet to be for us.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Though in the garden, gray with dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All life lies withering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there's no more to say or do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more to sigh or sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet go we back the ways we knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When buds were opening.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps we shall not search in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within its wreck and gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid roses ruined of the rain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There still may live one bloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One flower, whose heart may still retain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The long-lost soul-perfume.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then, perhaps, will come to us<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams we dreamed before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And song, who spoke so beauteous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will speak to us once more;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And love, with eyes all amorous,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will ope again his door.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So 'though the garden's gray with dew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flowers are withering,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And there's no more to say or do,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more to sigh or sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet go we back the ways we knew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When buds were opening.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Looking on the desolate street,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the March snow drifts and drives,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Trodden black of hurrying feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the athlete storm-wind strives<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With each tree and dangling light,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Centers, sphered with glittering white,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hissing in the dancing snow ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Backward in my soul I go<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that tempest-haunted night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of two autumns past, when we,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hastening homeward, were o'ertaken<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the storm; and 'neath a tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its wild leaves whisper-shaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sheltered us in that forsaken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad and ancient cemetery,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where folk came no more to bury.—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span><span class="i0">Haggard grave-stones, mossed and crumbled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tottered 'round us, or o'ertumbled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In their sunken graves; and some,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Urned and obelisked above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Iron-fenced in tombs, stood dumb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Records of forgotten love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And again I see the west<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yawning inward to its core<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of electric-spasmed ore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swiftly, without pause or rest.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a great wind sweeps the dust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up abandoned sidewalks; and,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the rotting trees, the gust<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shouts again—a voice that would<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make its gaunt self understood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moaning over death's lean land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we sat there, hand in hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the granite; where we read,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the leaping skies o'erhead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Something of one young and dead.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet the words begot no fear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In our souls: you leaned your cheek<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smiling on mine: very near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were our lips: we did not speak.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And suddenly alone I stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With scared eyes gazing through the wood.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For some still sign of ill or good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lead me from the solitude.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The day was at its twilighting;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One cloud o'erhead spread a vast wing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rosy thunder; vanishing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above the far hills' mystic ring.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some stars shone timidly o'erhead;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And toward the west's cadaverous red—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some wild dream that haunts the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In limbo—the lean moon was led.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the sad, debatable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vague lands of twilight slowly fell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A silence that I knew too well,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sorrow that I can not tell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What way to take, what path to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whether into the east's gray glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the west burnt red and low—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What road to choose, I did not know.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So, hesitating, there I stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lost in my soul's uncertain wood:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One sign I craved of ill or good,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To lead me from its solitude.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was autumn: and a night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Full of whispers and of mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a gray moon, wanly whist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hanging like a phantom light<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er the hills. We stood among<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Windy fields of weed and flower,<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span><span class="i0">Where the withered seed pod hung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the chill leaf-crickets sung.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Melancholy was the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the mystery and loneness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the year, that seemed to look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On its own departed face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As our love then, in its oneness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All its dead past did retrace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from that sad moment took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presage of approaching parting.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrowful the hour and dark:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low among the trees, now starting,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now concealed, a star's pale spark—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a fen-fire—winked and lured<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On to shuddering shadows; where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All was doubtful, unassured,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immaterial; and the bare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Facts of unideal day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Changed to substance such as dreams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And meseemed then, far away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Farther than remotest gleams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the stars—lost, separated,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And estranged, and out of reach,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grew our lives away from each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loving lives, that long had waited.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no gladness in the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now you're away;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dull is the morn, the noon is dull,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once beautiful;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span><span class="i0">And when the evening fills the skies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dusky dyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With tired eyes and tired heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I sit alone, I sigh apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wish for you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! darker now the night comes on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since you are gone;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad are the stars, the moon is sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once wholly glad;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the stars and moon are set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And earth lies wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With heart's regret and soul's hard ache,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I dream alone, I lie awake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wish for you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These who once spake me, speak no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now all is o'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day hath forgot the language of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its hopes of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night, whose sweet lips were burdensome<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With dreams, is dumb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far different from what used to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With silence and despondency<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They speak to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So it ends—the path that crept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through a land all slumber-kissed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the sickly moonlight slept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a pale antagonist.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now the star, that led us onward,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reassuring with its light,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span><span class="i0">Fails and falters; dipping downward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leaves us wandering in night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With old doubts we once disdained ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So it ends. The woods attained—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where our heart's desire builded<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fair temple, fire-gilded,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hope's marble shrine within,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the lineaments of our love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone, with lilies clad and crowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath white columns reared above<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sorrow and her sister sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Columns, rose and ribbon-wound,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the forest we have found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But a ruin! All around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie the shattered capitals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And vast fragments of the walls ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a climbing cloud,—that plies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wind-wrecked, o'er the moon that lies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Neath its blackness,—taking on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gradual certainties of wan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Soft assaults of easy white,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pale-approaching; till the skies'<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Emptiness and hungry night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Claim its bulk again, while she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rides in lonely purity:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So we found our temple, broken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a musing moment's space<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love, whose latest word was spoken,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seemed to meet us face to face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making bright that ruined place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a strange effulgence; then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passed, and left all black again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="A_FLOWER_OF_THE_FIELDS" id="A_FLOWER_OF_THE_FIELDS"></a>A FLOWER OF THE FIELDS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bee-bitten in the orchard hung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The peach; or, fallen in the weeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay rotting: where still sucked and sung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gray bee, boring to its seed's<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pink pulp and honey blackly stung.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The orchard path, which led around<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The garden,—with its heat one twinge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of dinning locusts,—picket-bound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ragged, brought me where one hinge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held up the gate that scraped the ground.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All seemed the same: the martin-box—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sun-warped with pigmy balconies—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still stood with all its twittering flocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perched on its pole above the peas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silvery-seeded onion-stocks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clove-pink and the rose; the clump<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of coppery sunflowers, with the heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sick to the heart: the garden stump,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red with geranium-pots and sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With moss and ferns, this side the pump.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I rested, with one hesitant hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the gate. The lonesome day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Droning with insects, made the land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One dry stagnation; soaked with hay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And scents of weeds, the hot wind fanned.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I breathed the sultry scents, my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Parched as my lips. And yet I felt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My limbs were ice. As one who flies<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To some strange woe. How sleepy smelt<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hay-sweet heat that soaked the skies!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Noon nodded; dreamier, lonesomer,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one long, plaintive, forestside<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bird-quaver.—And I knew me near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some heartbreak anguish ... She had died.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I felt it, and no need to hear!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I passed the quince and peartree; where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All up the porch a grape-vine trails—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How strange that fruit, whatever air<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or earth it grows in, never fails<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To find its native flavor there!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And she was as a flower, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That grows its proper bloom and scent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No matter what the soil: she, who,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Born better than her place, still lent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grace to the lowliness she knew....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They met me at the porch, and were<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad-eyed with weeping. Then the room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shut out the country's heat and purr,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left light stricken into gloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So love and I might look on her.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="THE_WHITE_VIGIL" id="THE_WHITE_VIGIL"></a>THE WHITE VIGIL.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last night I dreamed I saw you lying dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And by your sheeted form stood all alone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frail as a flow'r you lay upon your bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on your still face, through the casement, shone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moon, as lingering to kiss you there<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fall'n asleep, white violets in your hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, sick to weeping was my soul, and sad<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To breaking was my heart that would not break;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for my soul's great grief no tear I had,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No lamentation for my heart's deep ache;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet all I bore seemed more than I could bear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beside you dead, white violets in your hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A white rose, blooming at your window-bar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glimmering in it, like a fire-fly caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the thorns, the light of one white star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looked on with me; as if they felt and thought<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As did my heart,—"How beautiful and fair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And young she lies, white violets in her hair!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And so we watched beside you, sad and still,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The star, the rose, and I. The moon had past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a pale traveler, behind the hill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all her echoed radiance. At last<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The darkness came to hide my tears and share<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My watch by you, white violets in your hair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="TOO_LATE" id="TOO_LATE"></a>TOO LATE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I looked upon a dead girl's face and heard<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What seemed the voice of Love call unto me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of her heart; whereon the charactery<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her lost dreams I read there word for word:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How on her soul no soul had touched, or stirred<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her Life's sad depths to rippling melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or made the imaged longing, there, to be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The realization of a hope deferred.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So in her life had Love behaved to her.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the lonely chapters of her years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And her young eyes making no golden blur<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With god-bright face and hair; who led me to<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her side at last, and bade me, through my tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Death's dumb face, too late, to see and know.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="INTIMATIONS" id="INTIMATIONS"></a>INTIMATIONS.</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it uneasy moonlight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the restless field, that stirs?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or wild white meadow-blossoms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night-wind bends and blurs?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it the dolorous water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sobs in the wood and sighs?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or heart of an ancient oak-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That breaks and, sighing, dies?<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wind is vague with the shadows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wander in No-Man's Land;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The water is dark with the voices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That weep on the Unknown's strand.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O ghosts of the winds who call me!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O ghosts of the whispering waves!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sad as forgotten flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That die upon nameless graves!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is this thing you tell me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In tongues of a twilight race,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of death, with the vanished features,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mantled, of my own face?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The old enigmas of the deathless dawns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And riddles of the all immortal eves,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That still o'er Delphic lawns<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Speak as the gods spoke through oracular leaves—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read with new-born eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembering how, a slave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I lay with breast bared for the sacrifice,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once on a temple's pave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or, crowned with hyacinth and helichrys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, towards the altar in the marble gloom,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hearing the magadis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dirge through the pale amaracine perfume,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid chanting priests I trod,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With never a sigh or pause,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give my life to pacify a god,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And save my country's cause.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again: Cyrenian roses on wild hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oil and purple smeared on breasts and cheeks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How with mad torches there—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reddening the cedars of Cithæron's peaks—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With gesture and fierce glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lascivious Mænad bands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once drew and slew me in the Pyrrhic dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With Bacchanalian hands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The music now that lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim lips against my ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some wild sad thing it says,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto my soul, of years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Long passed into the haze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of tears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Meseems, before me are<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dark eyes of a queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A queen of Istakhar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I seem to see her lean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">More lovely than a star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of mien.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A slave, I stand before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her jeweled throne; I kneel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in a song, once more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My love for her reveal;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How once I did adore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I feel.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again her dark eyes gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again her red lips smile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in her face the beam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love that knows no guile;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so she seems to dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A while.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of her deep hair then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rose she takes—and I<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Am made a god o'er men!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rose, that here did lie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When I, in th' wild-beasts' den,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old paintings on its wainscots,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in its oaken hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old arras; and the twilight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of slumber over all.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old grandeur on its stairways;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, in its haunted rooms,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Old souvenirs of greatness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ghosts of dead perfumes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The winds are phantom voices<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around its carven doors;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moonbeams, specter footsteps<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon its polished floors.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Old cedars build around it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A solitude of sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the old hours pass through it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With immemorial eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But more than this I know not;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor where the house may be;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor what its ancient secret<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ancient grief to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All that my soul remembers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is that,—forgot almost,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Once, in a former lifetime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twas here I loved and lost.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In eöns of the senses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit knew of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I found the Isle of Circe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And felt her magic lore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still the soul remembers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What flesh would be once more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She gave me flowers to smell of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That wizard branches bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of weird and sorcerous beauty,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose stems dripped human gore—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their scent when I remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know that world once more.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She gave me fruits to eat of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That grew beside the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of necromantic ripeness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With human flesh at core—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their taste when I remember<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know that life once more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And then, behold! a serpent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That glides my face before,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes of tears and fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That glare me o'er and o'er—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I look into its eyeballs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And know myself once more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have looked in the eyes of poesy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sat in song's high place;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the beautiful spirits of music<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have spoken me face to face;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet here in my soul there is sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They never can name nor trace.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have walked with the glamour gladness,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dreamed with the shadow sleep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the presences, love and knowledge,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have smiled in my heart's red keep;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet here in my soul there is sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the depth of their gaze too deep.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The love and the hope God grants me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beauty that lures me on,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the dreams of folly and wisdom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thoughts of the spirit don,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are but masks of an ancient sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a life long dead and gone.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was it sin? or a crime forgotten?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a love that loved too well?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That sat on a throne of fire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand years in hell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the soul with its nameless sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembers but can not tell?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TWO" id="TWO"></a>TWO.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With her soft face half turned to me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like an arrested moonbeam, she<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stood in the cirque of that deep tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I took her by the hands; she raised<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her face to mine; and, half amazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Remembered; and we stood and gazed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How good to kiss her throat and hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say no word!—Her throat was bare;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As some moon-fungus white and fair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had God not giv'n us life for this?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The world-old, amorous happiness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of arms that clasp, and lips that kiss!<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The eloquence of limbs and arms!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rhetoric of breasts, whose charms<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Say to the sluggish blood what warms!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had God or Fiend assigned this hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That bloomed,—where love had all of power,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The senses' aphrodisiac flower?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The dawn was far away. Nude night<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hung savage stars of sultry white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around her bosom's Ethiop light.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Night! night, who gave us each to each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where heart with heart could hold sweet speech,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With life's best gift within our reach.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And here it was—between the goals<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flesh and spirit, sex controls—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Took place the marriage of our souls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TONES" id="TONES"></a>TONES.</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A woman, fair to look upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where waters whiten with the moon;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While down the glimmer of the lawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The white moths swoon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A mouth of music; eyes of love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hands of blended snow and scent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That touch the pearl-pale shadow of<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An instrument.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And low and sweet that song of sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After the song of love is hushed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While all the longing, here, to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is held and crushed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then leafy silence, that is musk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With breath of the magnolia-tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While dwindles, moon-white, through the dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her drapery.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let me remember how a heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Romantic, wrote upon that night!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul still helps me read each part<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of it aright.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And like a dead leaf shut between<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A book's dull chapters, stained and dark,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That page, with immemorial green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life I mark.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not well for me to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That song's appealing melody:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pain of loss comes all too near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through it, to me.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The loss of her whose love looks through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mist death's hand hath hung between:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the shadow of the yew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her grave is green.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah, dream that vanished long ago!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, anguish of remembered tears!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shadow of unlifted woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Athwart the years!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That haunt the sad rooms of my days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As keepsakes of unperished love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where pale the memory of her face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is framed above.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This olden song, she used to sing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love and sleep, is now a charm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To open mystic doors and bring<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her spirit form.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In music making visible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One soul-assertive memory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That steals unto my side to tell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My loss to me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="UNFULFILLED" id="UNFULFILLED"></a>UNFULFILLED.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In my dream last night it seemed I stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a boy's glad heart in my boyhood's wood.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The beryl green and the cairngorm brown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the day through the deep leaves sifted down.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rippling drip of a passing shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rinsed wild aroma from herb and flower.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The splash and urge of a waterfall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spread stairwayed rocks with a crystal caul.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I waded the pool where the gravel gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the last year's leaf, like a topaz lay.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And searched the strip of the creek's dry bed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For the colored keel and the arrow-head.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I found the cohosh coigne the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tossing with torches of pearly flame.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The owlet dingle of vine and brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That the butterfly-weed flecked fierce with fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The elder edge with its warm perfume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the sapphire stars of the bluet bloom;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The moss, the fern, and the touch-me-not<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I breathed, and the mint-smell keen and hot.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I saw the bird, that sang its best,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the moted sunlight building its nest.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I saw the chipmunk's stealthy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the rabbit crouched in a grassy place.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I watched the crows, that cawed and cried,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hunting the hawk at the forest-side;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The bees that sucked in the blossoms slim,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the wasps that built on the lichened limb.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And felt the silence, the dusk, the dread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the spot where they buried the unknown dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The water murmur, the insect hum,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a far bird calling, <i>Come, oh, come!</i>—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What sweeter music can mortals make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To ease the heart of its human ache!—<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And it seemed in my dream, that was all too true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I met in the woods again with you.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sun-tanned face and brown bare knees,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a hand stained red with dewberries.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And we stood a moment some thing to tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then in the woods we said farewell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But once I met you; yet, lo! it seems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again and again we meet in dreams.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I ask my soul what it all may mean;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If this is the love that should have been.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And oft and again I wonder, <i>Can</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>What God intends be changed by man?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HOME" id="HOME"></a>HOME.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Among the fields the camomile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems blown steam in the lightning's glare.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unusual odors drench the air.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Night speaks above; the angry smile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of storm within her stare.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The way for me to-night?—To-night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is through the wood whose branches fill<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The road with dripping rain-drops. Till,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the boughs, a star-like light—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our home upon the hill.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The path for me to take?—It goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Around a trailer-tangled rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid puckered pink and hollyhock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto a latch-gate's unkempt rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And door whereat I knock.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bright on the old-time flower-place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lamp streams through the foggy pane.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The door is opened to the rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the door—her happy face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eager hands again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="ASHLY_MERE" id="ASHLY_MERE"></a>ASHLY MERE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come! look in the shadowy water here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stagnant water of Ashly Mere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the stirless depths are dark but clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is the thing that lies there?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A lily-pod half sunk from sight?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or spawn of the toad all water-white?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or ashen blur of the moon's wan light?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a woman's face and eyes there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now lean to the water a listening ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haunted water of Ashly Mere:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What is the sound that you seem to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the ghostly hush of the deeps there?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A withered reed that the ripple lips?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a night-bird's wing that the surface whips?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the rain in a leaf that drips and drips?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a woman's voice that weeps there?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now look and listen! but draw not near<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lonely water of Ashly Mere!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For so it happens this time each year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As you lean by the mere and listen:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the moaning voice I understand,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For oft I have watched it draw to land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And lift from the water a ghastly hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And a face whose eyeballs glisten.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And this is the reason why every year<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the hideous water of Ashly Mere<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I come when the woodland leaves are sear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the autumn moon hangs hoary:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span><span class="i0">For here by the mere was wrought a wrong ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the old, old story is over long—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woman is weak and man is strong ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the mere's and mine is the story.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="BEFORE_THE_TOMB" id="BEFORE_THE_TOMB"></a>BEFORE THE TOMB.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The way went under cedared gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To moonlight, like a cactus bloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the entrance of her tomb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I had an hour of night and thin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad starlight; and I set my chin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against the grating and looked in.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A gleam, like moonlight, through a square<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of opening—I knew not where—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shone on her coffin resting there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on its oval silver-plate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I read her name and age and date,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And smiled, soft-thinking on my hate.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was no insect sound to chirr;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No wind to make a little stir.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stood and looked and thought on her.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gleam stole downward from her head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till at her feet it rested red<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On Gothic gold, that sadly said:—<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"God to her love lent a weak reed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of strength: and gave no light to lead:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pray for her soul; for it hath need."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was no night-bird's twitter near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No low vague water I might hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To make a small sound in the ear.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The gleam, that made a burning mark<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of each dim word, died to a spark;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then left the tomb and coffin dark.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I had a little while to wait;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And prayed with hands against the grate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And heart that yearned and knew too late.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was no light below, above,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To point my soul the way thereof,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The way of hate that led to love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REVISITED" id="REVISITED"></a>REVISITED.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was beneath a waning moon when all the woods were sear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winds made eddies of the leaves that whispered far and near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met her on the old mill-bridge we parted at last year.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At first I deemed it but a mist that faltered in that place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An autumn mist beneath the trees that sentineled the race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until I neared and in the moon beheld her face to face.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The waver of the summer-heat upon the drouth-dry leas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shimmer of the thistle-drift a down the silences;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The gliding of the fairy-fire between the swamp and trees;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They qualified her presence as a sorrow may a dream—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The vague suggestion of a self; the glimmer of a gleam;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The actual unreal of the things that only seem.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where once she came with welcome and glad eyes all loving-wise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She passed and gave no greeting that my heart might recognize,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With far-set face unseeing and sad unremembering eyes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It was beneath a waning moon when woods were bleak and sear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And winds made whispers of the leaves that eddied far and near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met her ghost upon the bridge we parted at last year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="AT_VESPERS" id="AT_VESPERS"></a>AT VESPERS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High up in the organ-story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A girl stands slim and fair;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And touched with the casement's glory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gleams out her radiant hair.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The young priest kneels at the altar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then lifts the Host above;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the psalm intoned from the psalter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is pure with patient love.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A sweet bell chimes; and a censer<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swings gleaming in the gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The candles glimmer and denser<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rolls up the pale perfume.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then high in the organ choir<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice of crystal soars,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of patience and soul's desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That suffers and adores.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And out of the altar's dimness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An answering voice doth swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of passion that cries from the grimness<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And anguish of its own hell.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">High up in the organ-story<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One kneels with a girlish grace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, touched with the vesper glory,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifts her madonna face.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One stands at the cloudy altar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A form bowed down and thin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The text of the psalm in the psalter<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He reads, is sorrow and sin.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CREEK" id="THE_CREEK"></a>THE CREEK.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O cheerly, cheerly by the road<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And merrily down the billet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And where the acre-field is sowed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With bristle-bearded millet.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then o'er a pebbled path that goes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through vista and through dingle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto a farmstead's windowed rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roof of moss and shingle.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O darkly, darkly through the bush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dimly by the bowlder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where cane and water-cress grow lush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And woodland wilds are older.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then o'er the cedared way that leads,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through burr and bramble-thickets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto a burial-ground of weeds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fenced in with broken pickets.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then sadly, sadly down the vale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wearily through the rushes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sunlight of the noon is pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en the zephyr hushes.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For oft her young face smiled upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My deeps here, willow-shaded;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And oft with bare feet in the sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My shallows there she waded.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more beneath the twinkling leaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall stand the farmer's daughter!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sing softly past the cottage eaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O memory-haunted water!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No more shall bend her laughing face<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above me where the rose is!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sigh softly past the burial-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all her youth reposes!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ANSWERED" id="ANSWERED"></a>ANSWERED.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you remember how that night drew on?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That night of sorrow, when the stars looked wan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As eyes that gaze reproachful in a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Loved eyes, long lost, and sadder than the grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How through the heaven stole the moon's gray gleam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a nun's ghost down a cathedral nave?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember how that night drew on?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you remember the hard words then said?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Said to the living,—now denied the dead,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That left me dead,—long, long before I died,—<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span><span class="i0">In heart and spirit?—me, your words had slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Telling how love to my poor life had lied,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Armed with the dagger of a pale disdain.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember the hard words then said?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you remember, now this night draws down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The threatening heavens, that the lightnings crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With wrecks of thunder? when no moon doth give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The clouds wild witchery?—as in a room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind the sorrowful arras, still may live<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pallid secret of the haunted gloom.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember, now this night draws down?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you remember, now it comes to pass<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Your form is bowed as is the wind-swept grass?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And death hath won from you that confidence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Denied to life? now your sick soul rebels<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Against your pride with tragic eloquence,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That self-crowned demon of the heart's fierce hells.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember, now it comes to pass?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Do you remember?—Bid your soul be still.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here passion hath surrendered unto will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flesh to spirit. Quiet your wild tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And wilder heart. Your kiss is naught to me.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The instrument love gave you lies unstrung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Silent, forsaken of all melody.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do you remember?—Bid your soul be still.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="WOMANS_PORTION" id="WOMANS_PORTION"></a>WOMAN'S PORTION.</h2> + + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The leaves are shivering on the thorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sighing wakes the lean-eyed morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I press my thin face to the pane,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But never will he come again.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rain hath sicklied day with haze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My tears run downward as I gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mist and morn spake unto me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What is this thing God gives to thee?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said unto the morn and mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The babe unborn whom sin hath kissed."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The morn and mist spake unto me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What is this thing which thou dost see?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said unto the mist and morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The shame of man and woman's scorn."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"He loved thee not," they made reply.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said, "Would God had let me die!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My dreams are as a closed up book,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Drearily.)<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon whose clasp of love I look,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All night the rain raved overhead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All night I wept awake in bed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I heard the wind sweep wild and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turned upon my face and sighed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wearily.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wind and rain spake unto me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What is this thing God takes from thee?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said unto the rain and wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"The love, for which my soul hath sinned."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rain and wind spake unto me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"What are these things thou still dost see?"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I said unto the wind and rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Regret, and hope despair hath slain."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thou lov'st him still," they made reply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drearily.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I said, "That God would let me die!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">(Wearily.)<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="FINALE" id="FINALE"></a>FINALE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So let it be. Thou wilt not say 't was I!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here in life's temple, where thy soul may see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look how the beauty of our love doth lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shattered in shards, a dead divinity!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Approach: kneel down: yea, render up one sigh!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the end. What need to tell it thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let it be.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So let it be. Care, who hath stood with him,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sorrow, who sat by him deified,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For whom his face made comfort, lo! how dim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They heap his altar which they can not hide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While memory's lamp swings o'er it, burning slim.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the end. What shall be said beside?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let it be.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So let it be. Did we not drain the wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red, of love's sacramental chalice, when<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He laid sweet sanction on thy lips and mine?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dash it aside! Lo, who will fill again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now it is empty of the god divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is the end. Yea, let us say Amen.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So let it be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_CROSS" id="THE_CROSS"></a>THE CROSS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The cross I bear no man shall know—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man can ease the cross I bear!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! the thorny path of woe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up the steep hill of care!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is no word to comfort me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No sign to help my bended head;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep night lies over land and sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And silence dark and dread.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To strive, it seems, that I was born,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For that which others shall obtain;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The disappointment and the scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alone for me remain.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One half my life is overpast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The other half I contemplate—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meseems the past doth but forecast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A darker future state.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sick to the heart of that which makes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Me hope and struggle and desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aspiration here that aches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With ineffectual fire;<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While inwardly I know the lack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The insufficiency of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each past day's retrospect makes black<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Each morrow's coming hour.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now in my youth would I could die!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As others love to live,—go down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into the grave without a sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oblivious of renown!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FOREST_OF_DREAMS" id="THE_FOREST_OF_DREAMS"></a>THE FOREST OF DREAMS.</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where was I last Friday night?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the forest of dark dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Following the blur of a goblin-light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That led me over ugly streams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon the scum of the spawn was spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blistered slime, in stagnant seams;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span><span class="i0">Where the weed and the moss swam black and dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like a drowned girl's hair in the ropy ooze:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the jack-o'-lantern light that led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flickered the fox-fire trees o'erhead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the owl-like things at airy cruise.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where was I last Friday night?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the forest of dark dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Following a form of shadowy white<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With my own wild face it seems.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did a raven's wing just flap my hair?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or a web-winged bat brush by my face?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the hand of—something I did not dare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Look round to see in that obscene place?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the boughs, with leaves a-devil's-dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the thorn-tree bush, where the wind made moan,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had more than a strange significance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life and of evil not their own.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where was I last Friday night?—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the forest of dark dreams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seeing the mists rise left and right,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like the leathery fog that heaves and steams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the rolling horror of Hell's red streams.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the wind, that tossed in the tattered tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And danced alone with the last mad leaf ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or was it the wind?... kept whispering me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Now bury it here with its own black grief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And its eyes of fire you can not brave!"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the darkness I seemed to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own self digging my soul a grave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="LYNCHERS" id="LYNCHERS"></a>LYNCHERS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the moon's down-going, let it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the quarry bill with its one gnarled tree....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The red-rock road of the underbrush,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where the woman came through the summer hush.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sumach high, and the elder thick,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we found the stone and the ragged stick.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The trampled road of the thicket, full<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of foot-prints down to the quarry pool.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The rocks that ooze with the hue of lead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where we found her lying stark and dead.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The scraggy wood; the negro hut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With its doors and windows locked and shut.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A secret signal; a foot's rough tramp;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A knock at the door; a lifted lamp.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An oath; a scuffle; a ring of masks;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A voice that answers a voice that asks.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A group of shadows; the moon's red fleck;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A running noose and a man's bared neck.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A word, a curse, and a shape that swings;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The lonely night and a bat's black wings....<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At the moon's down-going, let it be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="KU_KLUX" id="KU_KLUX"></a>KU KLUX.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have sent him seeds of the melon's core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And nailed a warning upon his door;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the Ku Klux laws we can do no more.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Down in the hollow, 'mid crib and stack,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roof of his low-porched house looms black;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not a line of light at the doorsill's crack.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet arm and mount! and mask and ride!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hounds can sense though the fox may hide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a word too much men oft have died.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clouds blow heavy towards the moon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The edge of the storm will reach it soon.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The killdee cries and the lonesome loon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The clouds shall flush with a wilder glare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than the lightning makes with its angled flare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the Ku Klux verdict is given there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the pause of the thunder rolling low,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A rifle's answer—who shall know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From the wind's fierce burl and the rain's blackblow?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Only the signature written grim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At the end of the message brought to him—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hempen rope and a twisted limb.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So arm and mount! and mask and ride!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hounds can sense though the fox may hide!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And for a word too much men oft have died.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="REMBRANDTS" id="REMBRANDTS"></a>REMBRANDTS.</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I shall not soon forget her and her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The haunts of hate, where suffering seemed to write<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its own dark name, whose syllables are sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In strange and starless night.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I shall not soon forget her and her face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So quiet, yet uneasy as a dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stands on tip-toe in a haunted place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And listens for a scream.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She made me feel as one, alone, may feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In some grand ghostly house of olden time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The presence of a treasure, walls conceal,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The secret of a crime.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With lambent faces, mimicking the moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The water lilies lie;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dotting the darkness of the long lagoon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some black sky.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A face, the whiteness of a water-flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pollen-golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In shadow half, half in the moonbeams' glower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lifts slowly there.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A young girl's face, death makes cold marble of,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turned to the moon and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sad with the pathos of unspeakable love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floating to sea.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">One listening bent, in dread of something coming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He can not see nor balk—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A phantom footstep, in the ghostly gloaming,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That haunts a terraced walk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Long has he given his whole heart's hard endeavor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the work begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still hoping love would watch it grow and ever<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Turn kindly eyes thereon.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now in his life he feels there nears an hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Inevitable, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When in the darkness he shall cringe and cower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And see his dead self pass.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_LADY_OF_THE_HILLS" id="THE_LADY_OF_THE_HILLS"></a>THE LADY OF THE HILLS.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Though red my blood hath left its trail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For five far miles, I shall not fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As God in Heaven wills!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The way was long through that black land.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sword on hip and horn in hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At last before thy walls I stand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O Lady of the Hills!<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No seneschal shall put to scorn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The summons of my bugle-horn!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No man-at-arms shall stay!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea! God hath helped my strength too far<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By bandit-caverned wood and scar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To give it pause now, or to bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My all-avenging way.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This hope still gives my body strength—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To kiss her eyes and lips at length<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where all her kin can see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then 'mid her towers of crime and gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sin-haunted like the Halls of Doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To smite her dead in that wild room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red-lit with revelry.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Madly I rode; nor once did slack.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before my face the world rolled, black<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With nightmare wind and rain.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Witch-lights mocked at me on the fen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the forest followed then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaunt eyes of wolves; and ghosts of men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Moaned by me on the plain.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still on I rode. My way was clear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From that wild time when, spear to spear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep in the wind-torn wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I met him!... Dead he lies beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their trysting oak. I clenched my teeth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rode. My wound scarce let me breathe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That filled my eyes with blood.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And here I am. The blood may blind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My eyesight now ... yet I shall find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her by some inner eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For God—He hath this deed in care!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yea! I shall kiss again her hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And tell her of her leman there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then smite her dead—and die.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="REVEALMENT" id="REVEALMENT"></a>REVEALMENT.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At moonset when ghost speaks with ghost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spirits meet where once they sinned,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the bournes of found and lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My soul met her soul on the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My late-lost Evalind.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I kissed her mouth. Her face was wild.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two burning shadows were her eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherefrom the maiden love, that smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A heartbreak smile of severed ties,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazed with a wan surprise.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then suddenly I seemed to see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No more her shape where beauty bloomed ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My own sad self gazed up at me—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sorrow, that had so assumed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The form of her entombed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="HEARTS_ENCOURAGEMENT" id="HEARTS_ENCOURAGEMENT"></a>HEART'S ENCOURAGEMENT.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor time nor all his minions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of sorrow or of pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall dash with vulture pinions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cup she fills again<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the dream-dominions<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of life where she doth reign.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clothed on with bright desire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hope that makes her strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With limbs of frost and fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She sits above all wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her heart, a living lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her love, its only song.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And in the waking pauses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of weariness and care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when the dark hour draws his<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black weapon of despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Above effects and causes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We hear its music there.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The longings life hath near it<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of love we yearn to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams it doth inherit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of immortality;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are callings of her spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To something yet to be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="NIGHTFALL" id="NIGHTFALL"></a>NIGHTFALL.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O day, so sicklied o'er with night!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O dreadful fruit of fallen dusk!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Circe orange, golden-bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With horror 'neath its husk.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I, who gave the promise heed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That made life's tempting surface fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have I not eaten to the seed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its ashes of despair!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O silence of the drifted grass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And immemorial eloquence<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of stars and winds and waves that pass!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And God's indifference!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Leave me alone with sleep that knows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not any thing that life may keep—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not e'en the pulse that comes and goes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In germs that climb and creep.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or if an aspiration pale<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must quicken there—oh, let the spot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Grow weeds! that dost may so prevail,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where spirit once could not!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="PAUSE" id="PAUSE"></a>PAUSE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So sick of dreams! the dreams, that stain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aisle, along which life must pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hues of mystic colored glass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That fills the windows of the brain.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So sick of thoughts! the thoughts, that carve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The house of days with arabesques<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gargoyles, where the mind grotesques<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In masks of hope and faith who starve.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here lay thy over weary head<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon my bosom! Do not weep!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"He giveth His beloved sleep."—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heart of my heart, be comforted.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ABOVE_THE_VALES" id="ABOVE_THE_VALES"></a>ABOVE THE VALES.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We went by ways of bygone days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up mountain heights of story,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where lost in vague, historic haze,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tradition, crowned with battle-bays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sat 'mid her ruins hoary.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where wing to wing the eagles cling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And torrents have their sources,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">War rose with bugle voice to sing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of wild spear thrust, and broadsword swing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rush of men and horses.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then deep below, where orchards show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A home here, here a steeple,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We heard a simple shepherd go,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing, beneath the afterglow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A love-song of the people.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As in the trees the song did cease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With matron eyes and holy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peace, from the cornlands of increase.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And rose-beds of love's victories,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spake, smiling, of the lowly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_SUNSET_FANCY" id="A_SUNSET_FANCY"></a>A SUNSET FANCY.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wide in the west, a lake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of flame that seems to shake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if the Midgard snake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep down did breathe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An isle of purple glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where rosy rivers flow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down peaks of cloudy snow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With fire beneath.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there the Tower-of-Night,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With windows all a-light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Frowns on a burning height;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein she sleeps,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young through the years of doom,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Veiled with her hair's gold gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The pale Valkyrie whom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enchantment keeps.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_FEN-FIRE" id="THE_FEN-FIRE"></a>THE FEN-FIRE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The misty rain makes dim my face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The night's black cloak is o'er me;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I tread the dripping cypress-place,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flickering light before me.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Out of the death of leaves that rot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ooze and weedy water,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My form was breathed to haunt this spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Death's immaterial daughter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The owl that whoops upon the yew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The snake that lairs within it,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have seen my wild face flashing blue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For one fantastic minute.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But should you follow where my eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some pale lamp decoy you,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beware! lest suddenly I rise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With love that shall destroy you.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="TO_ONE_READING_THE_MORTE_DARTHURE" id="TO_ONE_READING_THE_MORTE_DARTHURE"></a>TO ONE READING THE MORTE D'ARTHURE.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O daughter of our Southern sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet sister of each flower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost dream in terraced Avalon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A shadow-haunted hour?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or stand with Guinevere upon<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some ivied Camelot tower?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or in the wind dost breathe the musk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That blows Tintagel's sea on?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or 'mid the lists by castled Usk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hear some wild tourney's pæon?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or 'neath the Merlin moons of dusk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost muse in old Cærleon?<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or now of Launcelot, and then<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Arthur, 'mid the roses,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost speak with wily Vivien?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or where the shade reposes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost walk with stately armored men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In marble-fountained closes?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So speak the dreams within thy gaze.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dreams thy spirit cages,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would that Romance—which on thee lays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spell of bygone ages—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Held me! a memory of those days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A portion of its pages!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="STROLLERS" id="STROLLERS"></a>STROLLERS.</h2> + + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We have no castles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have no vassals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We have no riches, no gems and no gold;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing to ponder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing to squander—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us go wander<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As minstrels of old.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">You with your lute, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I with my flute, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let us make music by mountain and sea;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span><span class="i0">You with your glances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I with my dances,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing romances<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of old chivalry.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Derry down derry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good folk, be merry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hither, and hearken where happiness is!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never go borrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care of to-morrow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Never go sorrow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While life hath a kiss."<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let the day gladden<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or the night sadden,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will be merry in sunshine or snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">You with your rhyme, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I with my chime, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will make time, love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dance as we go.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nothing is ours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only the flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meadows, and stars, and the heavens above;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span><span class="i0">Nothing to lie for,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing to sigh for,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing to die for<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While still we have love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Derry down derry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Good folk, be merry!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hither, and hearken a word that is sooth:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Care ye not any,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ye have many<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or not a penny,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If still ye have youth!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="HAUNTED" id="HAUNTED"></a>HAUNTED.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When grave the twilight settles o'er my roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the haggard oaks unto my door<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rain comes, wild as one who rides before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His enemies that follow, hoof to hoof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in each window's gusty curtain-woof<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rain-wind sighs, like one who mutters o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some tale of love and crime; and, on the floor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sunset spreads red stains as bloody proof;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hall to hall and stealthy stair to stair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through all the house, a dread that drags me toward<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ancient dusk of that avoided room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wherein she sits with ghostly golden hair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And eyes that gaze beyond her soul's sad doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bending above an unreal harpsichord.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="PRAETERITA" id="PRAETERITA"></a>PRÆTERITA.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Low belts of rushes ragged with the blast;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lagoons of marish reddening with the west;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er the marsh the water-fowl's unrest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While daylight dwindles and the dusk falls fast.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Set in sad walls, all mossy with the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An old stone gateway with a crumbling crest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A garden where death drowses manifest;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in gaunt yews the shadowy house at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, like some unseen spirit, silence talks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With echo and the wind in each gray room<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where melancholy slumbers with the rain:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or, like some gentle ghost, the moonlight walks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In the dim garden, which her smile makes bloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With all the old-time loveliness again.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_SWASHBUCKLER" id="THE_SWASHBUCKLER"></a>THE SWASHBUCKLER.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Squat-nosed and broad, of big and pompous port;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tavern visage, apoplexy haunts,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All pimple-puffed; the Falstaff-like resort<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of fat debauchery, whose veined cheek flaunts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A flabby purple: rusty-spurred he stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In rakehell boots and belt, and hanger that<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Claps when, with greasy gauntlets on his hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He swaggers past in cloak and slouch-plumed hat.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Aggression marches armies in his words;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his oaths great deeds ride cap-a-pie;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span><span class="i0">His looks, his gestures breathe the breath of swords;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in his carriage camp all wars to be:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him of battles there shall be no lack<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While buxom wenches are and stoops of sack.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_WITCH" id="THE_WITCH"></a>THE WITCH.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She gropes and hobbies, where the dropsied rocks<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are hairy with the lichens and the twist<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of knotted wolf's-bane, mumbling in the mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hawk-nosed and wrinkle-eyed with scrawny locks.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At her bent back the sick-faced moonlight mocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like some lewd evil whom the Fiend hath kissed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thrice at her feet the slipping serpent hissed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrice the owl called to the forest fox.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What sabboth brew dost now intend? What root<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost seek for, seal for what satanic spell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of incantations and demoniac fire?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From thy rude hut, hill-huddled in the brier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What dark familiar points thy sure pursuit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With burning eyes, gaunt with the glow of Hell?<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="THE_SOMNAMBULIST" id="THE_SOMNAMBULIST"></a>THE SOMNAMBULIST.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oaks and a water. By the water—eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ice-green and steadfast as cold stars; and hair<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yellow as eyes deep in a she-wolf's lair;<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span><span class="i0">And limbs, like darkness that the lightning dyes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The humped oaks stand black under iron skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dry wind whirls the dead leaves everywhere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wild on the water falls a vulture glare<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of moon, and wild the circling raven flies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Again the power of this thing hath laid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Illusion on him: and he seems to hear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A sweet voice calling him beyond his gates<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To longed-for love; he comes; each forest glade<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems reaching out white arms to draw him near—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nearer and nearer to the death that waits.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OPIUM" id="OPIUM"></a>OPIUM.</h2> + +<h3><i>On reading De Quincey's "Confessions of an Opium Eater."</i></h3> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I seemed to stand before a temple walled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From shadows and night's unrealities;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Filled with dark music of dead memories,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And voices, lost in darkness, aye that called.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I entered. And, beneath the dome's high-halled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Immensity, one forced me to my knees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before a blackness—throned 'mid semblances<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And spectres—crowned with flames of emerald.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, lo! two shapes that thundered at mine ears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The names of Horror and Oblivion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Priests of this god,—and bade me die and dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then, in the heart of hell, a thousand years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meseemed I lay—dead; while the iron stream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Time beat out the seconds, one by one.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="MUSIC_AND_SLEEP" id="MUSIC_AND_SLEEP"></a>MUSIC AND SLEEP.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These have a life that hath no part in death;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These circumscribe the soul and make it strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the breathing of a dream and song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Building a world of beauty in a breath.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the heart the voice of this one saith<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ideals, its emotions live among;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unto the mind the other speaks a tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of visions, where the guess, we christen faith,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May face the fact of immortality—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As may a rose its unembodied scent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or star its own reflected radiance.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We do not know these save unconsciously.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To whose mysterious shadows God hath lent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No certain shape, no certain countenance.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="AMBITION" id="AMBITION"></a>AMBITION.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now to my lips lift then some opiate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of black forgetfulness! while in thy gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still lures the loveless beauty that betrays,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in thy mouth the music that is hate.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No promise more hast thou to make me wait;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No smile to cozen my sick heart with praise!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far, far behind thee stretch laborious days,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And far before thee, labors soon and late.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thine is the fen-fire that we deem a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flying before us, ever fugitive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy mocking policy still holds afar:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thine the voice, to which our longings give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hope's siren face, that speaks us sweet and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Only to lead us captives to Despair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="DESPONDENCY" id="DESPONDENCY"></a>DESPONDENCY.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not all the bravery that day puts on<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of gold and azure, ardent or austere,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall ease my soul of sorrow; grown more dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all the joy that heavenly hope may don.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Far up the skies the rumor of the dawn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May run, and eve like some wild torch appear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These shall not change the darkness, gathered here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thought, that rusts like an old sword undrawn.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Oh, for a place deep-sunken from the sun!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A wildwood cave of primitive rocks and moss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Sleep and Silence—breast to married breast—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lie with their child, night-eyed Oblivion;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where, freed from all the trouble of my cross,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I might forget, I might forget, and rest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="DESPAIR" id="DESPAIR"></a>DESPAIR.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shut in with phantoms of life's hollow hopes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shadows of old sins satiety slew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the young ghosts of the dead dreams love knew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Out of the day into the night she gropes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behind her, high the silvered summit slopes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of strength and faith, she will not turn to view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But towards the cave of weakness, harsh of hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She goes, where all the dropsied horror ropes.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There is a voice of waters in her ears,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And on her brow a wind that never dies:<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span><span class="i0">One is the anguish of desired tears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One is the sorrow of unuttered sighs;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, burdened with the immemorial years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Downward she goes with never lifted eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="SIN" id="SIN"></a>SIN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a legend of an old Hartz tower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That tells of one, a noble, who had sold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His soul unto the Fiend; who grew not old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On this condition: That the demon's power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cease every midnight for a single hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in that hour his body should be cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His limbs grow shriveled, and his face, behold!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Become a death's-head in the taper's glower.—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So unto Sin Life gives his best. Her arts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make all his outward seeming beautiful<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before the world; but in his heart of hearts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Abides an hour when her strength is null;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When he shall feel the death through all his parts<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strike, and his countenance become a skull.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="INSOMNIA" id="INSOMNIA"></a>INSOMNIA.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It seems that dawn will never climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eastern hills;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, clad in mist and flame and rime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Make flashing highways of the rills.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The night is as an ancient way<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through some dead land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereon the ghosts of Memory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Sorrow wander hand in hand.<br /></span> +</div><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By which man's works ignoble seem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unbeautiful;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grandeur, but the ruined dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of some proud queen, crowned with a skull.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A way past-peopled, dark and old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That stretches far—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its only real thing, the cold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vague light of sleep's one fitful star.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="ENCOURAGEMENT" id="ENCOURAGEMENT"></a>ENCOURAGEMENT.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To help our tired hope to toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! have we not the council here<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of trees, that to all hope appear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As sermons of the soil?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To help our flagging faith to rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lo! have we not the high advice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of stars, that for all faith suffice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As gospels of the skies?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sustain us, Lord! and help us climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With hope and faith made strong and great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rock-rough pathway of our fate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The care-dark way of time!<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="QUATRAINS" id="QUATRAINS"></a>QUATRAINS.</h2> + + +<h4>PENURY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Above his misered embers, gnarled and gray,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With toil-twitched limbs he bends; around his hut,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Want, like a hobbling hag, goes night and day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scolding at windows and at doors tight-shut.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>STRATEGY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Craft's silent sister and the daughter deep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Contemplation, she, who spreads below<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A hostile tent soft comfort for her foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With eyes of Jael watching till he sleep.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>TEMPEST.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With helms of lightning, glittering in the skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On steeds of thunder, cloudy form on form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Terrific beauty in their hair and eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold the wild Valkyries of the storm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>THE LOCUST BLOSSOM.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spirit Spring, in rainy raiment, met<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spirit Summer for a moonlit hour:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet from their greeting kisses, warm and wet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Earth shaped the fragrant purity of this flower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>MELANCHOLY.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">With shadowy immortelles of memory<br /></span> +<span class="i0">About her brow, she sits with eyes that look<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon the stream of Lethe wearily,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hesitant hands Death's partly-opened book.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CONTENT.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Among the meadows of Life's sad unease—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In labor still renewing her soul's youth—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With trust, for patience, and with love, for peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Singing she goes with the calm face of Ruth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>LIFE AND DEATH.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of our own selves God makes a glass, wherein<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Two shadows image them as might a breath:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one is Life, whose other name is Sin;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And one is Love, whose other name is Death.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>SORROW.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Death takes her hand and leads her through the waste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her own soul, wherein she hears the voice<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of lost Love's tears, and, famishing, can but taste<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dead-sea fruit of Life's remembered joys.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="A_LAST_WORD" id="A_LAST_WORD"></a>A LAST WORD.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for thyself, but for the sake of Song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strive to succeed as others have, who gave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lives unto her; shaping sure and strong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her lovely limbs that made them god and slave.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not for thyself, but for the sake of Art,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Strive to advance beyond the others' best;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Winning a deeper secret from her heart<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hang it moonlike 'mid the starry rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><i>For permission to reprint a number of the poems +included in this volume, thanks are due to The +Chap-Book, Cosmopolitan, Lippincott's, Century, +New England, Atlantic, and Harper's.</i></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Garden of Dreams, by Madison J. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Garden of Dreams + +Author: Madison J. Cawein + +Release Date: March 20, 2010 [EBook #31712] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GARDEN OF DREAMS *** + + + + +Produced by David Garcia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Kentuckiana Digital Library) + + + + + + + + + + THE GARDEN OF DREAMS + + + MADISON CAWEIN + + _Author of "Intimations of the Beautiful," "Undertones," + and several other books of verse_ + + + LOUISVILLE + JOHN P MORTON & COMPANY + MDCCCXCVI + + + COPYRIGHT, 1896, + JOHN P. MORTON & COMPANY. + + + TO + MY BROTHERS. + + + + + _Not while I live may I forget + That garden which my spirit trod! + Where dreams were flowers, wild and wet, + And beautiful as God._ + + _Not while I breathe, awake adream, + Shall live again for me those hours, + When, in its mystery and gleam, + I met her 'mid the flowers._ + + _Eyes, talismanic heliotrope, + Beneath mesmeric lashes, where + The sorceries of love and hope + Had made a shining lair._ + + _And daydawn brows, whereover hung + The twilight of dark locks; and lips, + Whose beauty spoke the rose's tongue + Of fragrance-voweled drips._ + + _I will not tell of cheeks and chin, + That held me as sweet language holds; + Nor of the eloquence within + Her bosom's moony molds._ + + _Nor of her large limbs' languorous + Wind-grace, that glanced like starlight through + Her ardent robe's diaphanous + Web of the mist and dew._ + + _There is no star so pure and high + As was her look; no fragrance such + At her soft presence; and no sigh + Of music like her touch._ + + _Not while I live may I forget + That garden of dim dreams! where I + And Song within the spirit met, + Sweet Song, who passed me by._ + + + + +CONTENTS. + + + PAGE + A Fallen Beech 1 + The Haunted Woodland 3 + Discovery 4 + Comradery 5 + Occult 6 + Wood-Words 7 + The Wind at Night 10 + Airy Tongues 11 + The Hills 13 + Imperfection 14 + Arcanna 15 + Spring 15 + Response 16 + Fulfillment 16 + Transformation 17 + Omens 17 + Abandoned 18 + The Creek Road 19 + The Covered Bridge 19 + The Hillside Grave 20 + Simulacra 20 + Before the End 21 + Winter 21 + Hoar Frost 22 + The Winter Moon 22 + In Summer 23 + Rain and Wind 24 + Under Arcturus 25 + October 27 + Bare Boughs 28 + A Threnody 30 + Snow 31 + Vagabonds 31 + An Old Song 32 + A Rose o' the Hills 33 + Dirge 34 + Rest 35 + Clairvoyance 36 + Indifference 37 + Pictured 37 + Serenade 38 + Kinship 39 + She is So Much 40 + Her Eyes 41 + Messengers 42 + At Twenty-One 43 + Baby Mary 44 + A Motive in Gold and Gray 45 + A Reed Shaken with the Wind 50 + A Flower of the Fields 71 + The White Vigil 73 + Too Late 74 + Intimations 74 + Two 80 + Tones 81 + Unfulfilled 83 + Home 86 + Ashly Mere 87 + Before the Tomb 88 + Revisited 89 + At Vespers 91 + The Creek 92 + Answered 93 + Woman's Portion 95 + Finale 97 + The Cross 98 + The Forest of Dreams 99 + Lynchers 101 + Ku Klux 102 + Rembrandts 103 + The Lady of The Hills 104 + Revealment 106 + Heart's Encouragement 107 + Nightfall 108 + Pause 108 + Above the Vales 109 + A Sunset Fancy 110 + The Fen-Fire 110 + To One Reading the Morte D'Arthure 111 + Strollers 112 + Haunted 114 + Praeterita 115 + The Swashbuckler 115 + The Witch 116 + The Somnambulist 116 + Opium 117 + Music and Sleep 118 + Ambition 118 + Despondency 119 + Despair 119 + Sin 120 + Insomnia 120 + Encouragement 121 + Quatrains 122 + A Last Word 123 + + + + +THE GARDEN OF DREAMS + + + + +A FALLEN BEECH + + + Nevermore at doorways that are barken + Shall the madcap wind knock and the noonlight; + Nor the circle, which thou once didst darken, + Shine with footsteps of the neighboring moonlight, + Visitors for whom thou oft didst hearken. + + Nevermore, gallooned with cloudy laces, + Shall the morning, like a fair freebooter, + Make thy leaves his richest treasure-places; + Nor the sunset, like a royal suitor, + Clothe thy limbs with his imperial graces. + + And no more, between the savage wonder + Of the sunset and the moon's up-coming, + Shall the storm, with boisterous hoof-beats, under + Thy dark roof dance, Faun-like, to the humming + Of the Pan-pipes of the rain and thunder. + + Oft the satyr spirit, beauty-drunken, + Of the Spring called; and the music-measure + Of thy sap made answer; and thy sunken + Veins grew vehement with youth, whose pressure + Swelled thy gnarly muscles, winter-shrunken. + + And the germs, deep down in darkness rooted, + Bubbled green from all thy million oilets, + Where the spirits, rain-and-sunbeam-suited, + Of the April made their whispering toilets, + Or within thy stately shadow footed. + + Oft the hours of blonde Summer tinkled + At the windows of thy twigs, and found thee + Bird-blithe; or, with shapely bodies, twinkled + Lissom feet of naked flowers around thee, + Where thy mats of moss lay sunbeam-sprinkled. + + And the Autumn with his gipsy-coated + Troop of days beneath thy branches rested, + Swarthy-faced and dark of eye; and throated + Songs of hunting; or with red hand tested + Every nut-bur that above him floated. + + Then the Winter, barren-browed, but rich in + Shaggy followers of frost and freezing, + Made the floor of thy broad boughs his kitchen, + Trapper-like, to camp in; grimly easing + Limbs snow-furred and moccasoned with lichen. + + Now, alas! no more do these invest thee + With the dignity of whilom gladness! + They--unto whose hearts thou once confessed thee + Of thy dreams--now know thee not! and sadness + Sits beside thee where forgot dost rest thee. + + + + +THE HAUNTED WOODLAND + + + Here in the golden darkness + And green night of the woods, + A flitting form I follow, + A shadow that eludes-- + Or is it but the phantom + Of former forest moods? + + The phantom of some fancy + I knew when I was young, + And in my dreaming boyhood, + The wildwood flow'rs among, + Young face to face with Faery + Spoke in no unknown tongue. + + Blue were her eyes, and golden + The nimbus of her hair; + And crimson as a flower + Her mouth that kissed me there; + That kissed and bade me follow, + And smiled away my care. + + A magic and a marvel + Lived in her word and look, + As down among the blossoms + She sate me by the brook, + And read me wonder-legends + In Nature's Story Book. + + Loved fairy-tales forgotten, + She never reads again, + Of beautiful enchantments + That haunt the sun and rain, + And, in the wind and water, + Chant a mysterious strain. + + And so I search the forest, + Wherein my spirit feels, + In tree or stream or flower + Herself she still conceals-- + But now she flies who followed, + Whom Earth no more reveals. + + + + +DISCOVERY + + + What is it now that I shall seek, + Where woods dip downward, in the hills?-- + A mossy nook, a ferny creek, + And May among the daffodils. + + Or in the valley's vistaed glow, + Past rocks of terraced trumpet-vines, + Shall I behold her coming slow, + Sweet May, among the columbines? + + With redbud cheeks and bluet eyes, + Big eyes, the homes of happiness, + To meet me with the old surprise, + Her hoiden hair all bonnetless. + + Who waits for me, where, note for note, + The birds make glad the forest-trees? + A dogwood blossom at her throat, + My May among the anemones. + + As sweetheart breezes kiss the blooms, + And dewdrops drink the moonlight's gleams, + My soul shall kiss her lips' perfumes, + And drink the magic of her dreams. + + + + +COMRADERY + + + With eyes hand-arched he looks into + The morning's face, then turns away + With schoolboy feet, all wet with dew, + Out for a holiday. + + The hill brook sings, incessant stars, + Foam-fashioned, on its restless breast; + And where he wades its water-bars + Its song is happiest. + + A comrade of the chinquapin, + He looks into its knotted eyes + And sees its heart; and, deep within, + Its soul that makes him wise. + + The wood-thrush knows and follows him, + Who whistles up the birds and bees; + And 'round him all the perfumes swim + Of woodland loam and trees. + + Where'er he pass the supple springs' + Foam-people sing the flowers awake; + And sappy lips of bark-clad things + Laugh ripe each fruited brake. + + His touch is a companionship; + His word, an old authority: + He comes, a lyric at his lip, + Unstudied Poesy. + + + + +OCCULT + + + Unto the soul's companionship + Of things that only seem to be, + Earth points with magic fingertip + And bids thee see + How Fancy keeps thee company. + + For oft at dawn hast not beheld + A spirit of prismatic hue + Blow wide the buds, which night has swelled? + And stain them through + With heav'n's ethereal gold and blue? + + While at her side another went + With gleams of enigmatic white? + A spirit who distributes scent, + To vale and height, + In footsteps of the rosy light? + + And oft at dusk hast thou not seen + The star-fays bring their caravans + Of dew, and glitter all the green, + Night's shadow tans, + From many starbeam sprinkling-cans? + + Nor watched with these the elfins go + Who tune faint instruments? whose sound + Is that moon-music insects blow + When all the ground + Sleeps, and the night is hushed around? + + + + +WOOD-WORDS + + +I. + + The spirits of the forest, + That to the winds give voice-- + I lie the livelong April day + And wonder what it is they say + That makes the leaves rejoice. + + The spirits of the forest, + That breathe in bud and bloom-- + I walk within the black-haw brake + And wonder how it is they make + The bubbles of perfume. + + The spirits of the forest, + That live in every spring-- + I lean above the brook's bright blue + And wonder what it is they do + That makes the water sing. + + The spirits of the forest. + That haunt the sun's green glow-- + Down fungus ways of fern I steal + And wonder what they can conceal, + In dews, that twinkles so. + + The spirits of the forest, + They hold me, heart and hand-- + And, oh! the bird they send by light, + The jack-o'-lantern gleam by night, + To guide to Fairyland! + + +II. + + The time when dog-tooth violets + Hold up inverted horns of gold,-- + The elvish cups that Spring upsets + With dripping feet, when April wets + The sun-and-shadow-marbled wold,-- + + Is come. And by each leafing way + The sorrel drops pale blots of pink; + And, like an angled star a fay + Sets on her forehead's pallid day, + The blossoms of the trillium wink. + + Within the vale, by rock and stream,-- + A fragile, fairy porcelain,-- + Blue as a baby's eyes a-dream, + The bluets blow; and gleam in gleam + The sun-shot dog-woods flash with rain. + + It is the time to cast off care; + To make glad intimates of these:-- + The frank-faced sunbeam laughing there; + The great-heart wind, that bids us share + The optimism of the trees. + + +III. + + The white ghosts of the flowers, + The green ghosts of the trees: + They haunt the blooming bowers, + They haunt the wildwood hours, + And whisper in the breeze. + + For in the wildrose places, + And on the beechen knoll, + My soul hath seen their faces, + My soul hath met their races, + And felt their dim control. + + +IV. + + Crab-apple buds, whose bells + The mouth of April kissed; + That hang,--like rosy shells + Around a naiad's wrist,-- + Pink as dawn-tinted mist. + + And paw-paw buds, whose dark + Deep auburn blossoms shake + On boughs,--as 'neath the bark + A dryad's eyes awake,-- + Brown as a midnight lake. + + These, with symbolic blooms + Of wind-flower and wild-phlox, + I found among the glooms + Of hill-lost woods and rocks, + Lairs of the mink and fox. + + The beetle in the brush, + The bird about the creek, + The bee within the hush, + And I, whose heart was meek, + Stood still to hear these speak. + + The language, that records, + In flower-syllables, + The hieroglyphic words + Of beauty, who enspells + The world and aye compels. + + + + +THE WIND AT NIGHT + + +I. + + Not till the wildman wind is shrill, + Howling upon the hill + In every wolfish tree, whose boisterous boughs, + Like desperate arms, gesture and beat the night, + And down huge clouds, in chasms of stormy white + The frightened moon hurries above the house, + Shall I lie down; and, deep,-- + Letting the mad wind keep + Its shouting revel round me,--fall asleep. + + +II. + + Not till its dark halloo is hushed, + And where wild waters rushed,-- + Like some hoofed terror underneath its whip + And spur of foam,--remains + A ghostly glass, hill-framed; whereover stains + Of moony mists and rains, + And stealthy starbeams, like vague specters, slip; + Shall I--with thoughts that take + Unto themselves the ache + Of silence as a sound--from sleep awake. + + + + +AIRY TONGUES + + +I. + + I hear a song the wet leaves lisp + When Morn comes down the woodland way; + And misty as a thistle-wisp + Her gown gleams windy gray; + A song, that seems to say, + "Awake! 'tis day!" + + I hear a sigh, when Day sits down + Beside the sunlight-lulled lagoon; + While on her glistening hair and gown + The rose of rest is strewn; + A sigh, that seems to croon, + "Come sleep! 'tis noon!" + + I hear a whisper, when the stars, + Upon some evening-purpled height, + Crown the dead Day with nenuphars + Of dreamy gold and white; + A voice, that seems t' invite, + "Come love! 'tis night!" + + +II. + + Before the rathe song-sparrow sings + Among the hawtrees in the lane, + And to the wind the locust flings + Its early clusters fresh with rain; + Beyond the morning-star, that swings + Its rose of fire above the spire, + Between the morning's watchet wings, + A voice that rings o'er brooks and boughs-- + "Arouse! arouse!" + + Before the first brown owlet cries + Among the grape-vines on the hill, + And in the dam with half-shut eyes + The lilies rock above the mill; + Beyond the oblong moon, that flies + Its pearly flower above the tower, + Between the twilight's primrose skies, + A voice that sighs from east to west-- + "To rest! to rest!" + + + + +THE HILLS + + + There is no joy of earth that thrills + My bosom like the far-off hills! + Th' unchanging hills, that, shadowy, + Beckon our mutability + To follow and to gaze upon + Foundations of the dusk and dawn. + Meseems the very heavens are massed + Upon their shoulders, vague and vast + With all the skyey burden of + The winds and clouds and stars above. + Lo, how they sit before us, seeing + The laws that give all Beauty being! + Behold! to them, when dawn is near, + The nomads of the air appear, + Unfolding crimson camps of day + In brilliant bands; then march away; + And under burning battlements + Of twilight plant their tinted tents. + The faith of olden myths, that brood + By haunted stream and haunted wood, + They see; and feel the happiness + Of old at which we only guess: + The dreams, the ancients loved and knew, + Still as their rocks and trees are true: + Not otherwise than presences + The tempest and the calm to these: + One shouting on them, all the night, + Black-limbed and veined with lambent light: + The other with the ministry + Of all soft things that company + With music--an embodied form, + Giving to solitude the charm + Of leaves and waters and the peace + Of bird-begotten melodies-- + And who at night doth still confer + With the mild moon, who telleth her + Pale tale of lonely love, until + Wan images of passion fill + The heights with shapes that glimmer by + Clad on with sleep and memory. + + + + +IMPERFECTION + + + Not as the eye hath seen, shall we behold + Romance and beauty, when we've passed away; + That robed the dull facts of the intimate day + In life's wild raiment of unusual gold: + Not as the ear hath heard, shall we be told, + Hereafter, myth and legend once that lay + Warm at the heart of Nature, clothing clay + In attribute of no material mold. + These were imperfect of necessity, + That wrought thro' imperfection for far ends + Of perfectness--As calm philosophy, + Teaching a child, from his high heav'n descends + To Earth's familiar things; informingly + Vesting his thoughts with that it comprehends. + + + + +ARCANNA + + + Earth hath her images of utterance, + Her hieroglyphic meanings which elude; + A symbol language of similitude, + Into whose secrets science may not glance; + In which the Mind-in-Nature doth romance + In miracles that baffle if pursued-- + No guess shall search them and no thought intrude + Beyond the limits of her sufferance. + So doth the great Intelligence above + Hide His own thought's creations; and attire + Forms in the dream's ideal, which He dowers + With immaterial loveliness and love-- + As essences of fragrance and of fire-- + Preaching th' evangels of the stars and flowers. + + + + +SPRING + + + First came the rain, loud, with sonorous lips; + A pursuivant who heralded a prince: + And dawn put on a livery of tints, + And dusk bound gold about her hair and hips: + And, all in silver mail, then sunlight came, + A knight, who bade the winter let him pass, + And freed imprisoned beauty, naked as + The Court of Love, in all her wildflower shame. + And so she came, in breeze-borne loveliness, + Across the hills; and heav'n bent down to bless: + Before her face the birds were as a lyre; + And at her feet, like some strong worshiper, + The shouting water paean'd praise of her, + Who, with blue eyes, set the wild world on fire. + + + + +RESPONSE + + + There is a music of immaculate love, + That breathes within the virginal veins of Spring:-- + And trillium blossoms, like the stars that cling + To fairies' wands; and, strung on sprays above, + White-hearts and mandrake blooms, that look enough + Like the elves' washing, white with laundering + Of May-moon dews; and all pale-opening + Wild-flowers of the woods, are born thereof. + There is no sod Spring's white foot brushes but + Must feel the music that vibrates within, + And thrill to the communicated touch + Responsive harmonies, that must unshut + The heart of beauty for song's concrete kin, + Emotions--that be flowers--born of such. + + + + +FULFILLMENT + + + Yes, there are some who may look on these + Essential peoples of the earth and air-- + That have the stars and flowers in their care-- + And all their soul-suggestive secrecies: + Heart-intimates and comrades of the trees, + Who from them learn, what no known schools declare, + God's knowledge; and from winds, that discourse there, + God's gospel of diviner mysteries: + To whom the waters shall divulge a word + Of fuller faith; the sunset and the dawn + Preach sermons more inspired even than + The tongues of Penticost; as, distant heard + In forms of change, through Nature upward drawn, + God doth address th' immortal soul of Man. + + + + +TRANSFORMATION + + + It is the time when, by the forest falls, + The touchmenots hang fairy folly-caps; + When ferns and flowers fill the lichened laps + Of rocks with color, rich as orient shawls: + And in my heart I hear a voice that calls + Me woodward, where the Hamadryad wraps + Her limbs in bark, or, bubbling in the saps, + Laughs the sweet Greek of Pan's old madrigals. + There is a gleam that lures me up the stream-- + A Naiad swimming with wet limbs of light? + Perfume, that leads me on from dream to dream-- + An Oread's footprints fragrant with her flight? + And, lo! meseems I am a Faun again, + Part of the myths that I pursue in vain. + + + + +OMENS + + + Sad o'er the hills the poppy sunset died. + Slow as a fungus breaking through the crusts + Of forest leaves, the waning half-moon thrusts, + Through gray-brown clouds, one milky silver side; + In her vague light the dogwoods, vale-descried, + Seem nervous torches flourished by the gusts; + The apple-orchards seem the restless dusts + Of wind-thinned mists upon the hills they hide. + It is a night of omens whom late May + Meets, like a wraith, among her train of hours; + An apparition, with appealing eye + And hesitant foot, that walks a willowed way, + And, speaking through the fading moon and + flowers, + Bids her prepare her gentle soul to die. + + + + +ABANDONED + + + The hornets build in plaster-dropping rooms, + And on its mossy porch the lizard lies; + Around its chimneys slow the swallow flies, + And on its roof the locusts snow their blooms. + Like some sad thought that broods here, old perfumes + Haunt its dim stairs; the cautious zephyr tries + Each gusty door, like some dead hand, then sighs + With ghostly lips among the attic glooms. + And now a heron, now a kingfisher, + Flits in the willows where the riffle seems + At each faint fall to hesitate to leap, + Fluttering the silence with a little stir. + Here Summer seems a placid face asleep, + And the near world a figment of her dreams. + + + + +THE CREEK-ROAD + + + Calling, the heron flies athwart the blue + That sleeps above it; reach on rocky reach + Of water sings by sycamore and beech, + In whose warm shade bloom lilies not a few. + It is a page whereon the sun and dew + Scrawl sparkling words in dawn's delicious speech; + A laboratory where the wood-winds teach, + Dissect each scent and analyze each hue. + Not otherwise than beautiful, doth it + Record the happ'nings of each summer day; + Where we may read, as in a catalogue, + When passed a thresher; when a load of hay; + Or when a rabbit; or a bird that lit; + And now a bare-foot truant and his dog. + + + + +THE COVERED BRIDGE + + + There, from its entrance, lost in matted vines,-- + Where in the valley foams a water-fall,--- + Is glimpsed a ruined mill's remaining wall; + Here, by the road, the oxeye daisy mines + Hot brass and bronze; the trumpet-trailer shines + Red as the plumage of the cardinal. + Faint from the forest comes the rain-crow's call + Where dusty Summer dreams among the pines. + This is the spot where Spring writes wildflower verses + In primrose pink, while, drowsing o'er his reins, + The ploughman, all unnoticing, plods along: + And where the Autumn opens weedy purses + Of sleepy silver, while the corn-heaped wains + Rumble the bridge like some deep throat of song. + + + + +THE HILLSIDE GRAVE + + + Ten-hundred deep the drifted daisies break + Here at the hill's foot; on its top, the wheat + Hangs meagre-bearded; and, in vague retreat, + The wisp-like blooms of the moth-mulleins shake. + And where the wild-pink drops a crimson flake, + And morning-glories, like young lips, make sweet + The shaded hush, low in the honeyed heat, + The wild-bees hum; as if afraid to wake + One sleeping there; with no white stone to tell + The story of existence; but the stem + Of one wild-rose, towering o'er brier and weed, + Where all the day the wild-birds requiem; + Within whose shade the timid violets spell + An epitaph, only the stars can read. + + + + +SIMULACRA + + + Dark in the west the sunset's somber wrack + Unrolled vast walls the rams of war had split, + Along whose battlements the battle lit + Tempestuous beacons; and, with gates hurled back, + A mighty city, red with ruin and sack, + Through burning breaches, crumbling bit by bit, + Showed where the God of Slaughter seemed to sit + With conflagration glaring at each crack. + Who knows? perhaps as sleep unto us makes + Our dreams as real as our waking seems + With recollections time can not destroy, + So in the mind of Nature now awakes + Haply some wilder memory, and she dreams + The stormy story of the fall of Troy. + + + + +BEFORE THE END + + + How does the Autumn in her mind conclude + The tragic masque her frosty pencil writes, + Broad on the pages of the days and nights, + In burning lines of orchard, wold, and wood? + What lonelier forms--that at the year's door stood + At spectral wait--with wildly wasted lights + Shall enter? and with melancholy rites + Inaugurate their sadder sisterhood?-- + Sorrow, who lifts a signal hand, and slow + The green leaf fevers, falling ere it dies; + Regret, whose pale lips summon, and gaunt Woe + Wakes the wild-wind harps with sonorous sighs; + And Sleep, who sits with poppied eyes and sees + The earth and sky grow dream-accessories. + + + + +WINTER + + + The flute, whence Autumn's misty finger-tips + Drew music--ripening the pinched kernels in + The burly chestnut and the chinquapin, + Red-rounding-out the oval haws and hips,-- + Now Winter crushes to his stormy lips + And surly songs whistle around his chin: + Now the wild days and wilder nights begin + When, at the eaves, the crooked icicle drips. + Thy songs, O Autumn, are not lost so soon! + Still dwells a memory in thy hollow flute, + Which, unto Winter's masculine airs, doth give + Thy own creative qualities of tune, + By which we see each bough bend white with fruit, + Each bush with bloom, in snow commemorative. + + + + +HOAR-FROST + + + The frail eidolons of all blossoms Spring, + Year after year, about the forest tossed, + The magic touch of the enchanter, Frost, + Back from the Heaven of the Flow'rs doth bring; + Each branch and bush in silence visiting + With phantom beauty of its blooms long lost: + Each dead weed bends, white-haunted of its ghost, + Each dead flower stands ghostly with blossoming. + This is the wonder-legend Nature tells + To the gray moon and mist a winter's night; + The fairy-tale, which her weird fancy 'spells + With all the glamour of her soul's delight: + Before the summoning sorcery of her eyes + Making her spirit's dream materialize. + + + + +THE WINTER MOON + + + Deep in the dell I watched her as she rose, + A face of icy fire, o'er the hills; + With snow-sad eyes to freeze the forest rills, + And snow-sad feet to bleach the meadow snows: + Pale as some young witch who, a-listening, goes + To her first meeting with the Fiend; whose fears + Fix demon eyes behind each bush she nears; + Stops, yet must on, fearful of following foes. + And so I chased her, startled in the wood, + Like a discovered Oread, who flies + The Faun who found her sleeping, each nude limb + Glittering betrayal through the solitude; + Till in a frosty cloud I saw her swim, + Like a drowned face, a blur beneath the ice. + + + + +IN SUMMER + + + When in dry hollows, hilled with hay, + The vesper-sparrow sings afar; + And, golden gray, dusk dies away + Beneath the amber evening-star: + There, where a warm and shadowy arm + The woodland lays around the farm, + To meet you where we kissed, dear heart, + To kiss you at the tryst, dear heart, + To kiss you at the tryst! + + When clover fields smell cool with dew, + And crickets cry, and roads are still; + And faint and few the fire-flies strew + The dark where calls the whippoorwill; + There, in the lane, where sweet again + The petals of the wild-rose rain, + To stroll with head to head, dear heart, + And say the words oft said, dear heart, + And say the words oft said! + + + + +RAIN AND WIND + + + I hear the hoofs of horses + Galloping over the hill, + Galloping on and galloping on, + When all the night is shrill + With wind and rain that beats the pane-- + And my soul with awe is still. + + For every dripping window + Their headlong rush makes bound, + Galloping up, and galloping by, + Then back again and around, + Till the gusty roofs ring with their hoofs, + And the draughty cellars sound. + + And then I hear black horsemen + Hallooing in the night; + Hallooing and hallooing, + They ride o'er vale and height, + And the branches snap and the shutters clap + With the fury of their flight. + + Then at each door a horseman,-- + With burly bearded lip + Hallooing through the keyhole,-- + Pauses with cloak a-drip; + And the door-knob shakes and the panel quakes + 'Neath the anger of his whip. + + All night I hear their gallop, + And their wild halloo's alarm; + The tree-tops sound and vanes go round + In forest and on farm; + But never a hair of a thing is there-- + Only the wind and storm. + + + + +UNDER ARCTURUS + + +I. + + "I belt the morn with ribboned mist; + With baldricked blue I gird the noon, + And dusk with purple, crimson-kissed, + White-buckled with the hunter's moon. + + "These follow me," the season says: + "Mine is the frost-pale hand that packs + Their scrips, and speeds them on their ways, + With gipsy gold that weighs their backs." + + +II. + + A daybreak horn the Autumn blows, + As with a sun-tanned band he parts + Wet boughs whereon the berry glows; + And at his feet the red-fox starts. + + The leafy leash that holds his hounds + Is loosed; and all the noonday hush + Is startled; and the hillside sounds + Behind the fox's bounding brush. + + When red dusk makes the western sky + A fire-lit window through the firs, + He stoops to see the red-fox die + Among the chestnut's broken burs. + + Then fanfaree and fanfaree, + Down vistas of the afterglow + His bugle rings from tree to tree, + While all the world grows hushed below. + + +III. + + Like some black host the shadows fall, + And darkness camps among the trees; + Each wildwood road, a Goblin Hall, + Grows populous with mysteries. + + Night comes with brows of ragged storm, + And limbs of writhen cloud and mist; + The rain-wind hangs upon her arm + Like some wild girl that will be kissed. + + By her gaunt hand the leaves are shed + Like nightmares an enchantress herds; + And, like a witch who calls the dead, + The hill-stream whirls with foaming words. + + Then all is sudden silence and + Dark fear--like his who can not see, + Yet hears, aye in a haunted land, + Death rattling on a gallow's tree. + + +IV. + + The days approach again; the days, + Whose mantles stream, whose sandals drag; + When in the haze by puddled ways + Each gnarled thorn seems a crooked hag. + + When rotting orchards reek with rain; + And woodlands crumble, leaf and log; + And in the drizzling yard again + The gourd is tagged with points of fog. + + Oh, let me seat my soul among + Your melancholy moods! and touch + Your thoughts' sweet sorrow without tongue, + Whose silence says too much, too much! + + + + +OCTOBER + + + Long hosts of sunlight, and the bright wind blows + A tourney trumpet on the listed hill: + Past is the splendor of the royal rose + And duchess daffodil. + + Crowned queen of beauty, in the garden's space, + Strong daughter of a bitter race and bold, + A ragged beggar with a lovely face, + Reigns the sad marigold. + + And I have sought June's butterfly for days, + To find it--like a coreopsis bloom-- + Amber and seal, rain-murdered 'neath the blaze + Of this sunflower's plume. + + Here basks the bee; and there, sky-voyaging wings + Dare God's blue gulfs of heaven; the last song, + The red-bird flings me as adieu, still rings + Upon yon pear-tree's prong. + + No angry sunset brims with rosier red + The bowl of heaven than the days, indeed, + Pour in each blossom of this salvia-bed, + Where each leaf seems to bleed. + + And where the wood-gnats dance, a tiny mist, + Above the efforts of the weedy stream, + The girl, October, tired of the tryst, + Dreams a diviner dream. + + One foot just dipping the caressing wave, + One knee at languid angle; locks that drown + Hands nut-stained; hazel-eyed, she lies, and grave, + Watching the leaves drift down. + + + + +BARE BOUGHS + + + O heart, that beat the bird's blithe blood, + The blithe bird's message that pursued, + Now song is dead as last year's bud, + What dost thou in the wood? + + O soul, that kept the brook's glad flow, + The glad brook's word to sun and moon, + What dost thou here where song lies low + As all the dreams of June? + + Where once was heard a voice of song, + The hautboys of the mad winds sing; + Where once a music flowed along, + The rain's wild bugles ring. + + The weedy water frets and ails, + And moans in many a sunless fall; + And, o'er the melancholy, trails + The black crow's eldritch call. + + Unhappy brook! O withered wood! + O days, whom death makes comrades of! + Where are the birds that thrilled the blood + When life struck hands with love? + + A song, one soared against the blue; + A song, one bubbled in the leaves; + A song, one threw where orchards grew + All appled to the eaves. + + But now the birds are flown or dead; + And sky and earth are bleak and gray; + The wild winds sob i' the boughs instead, + The wild leaves sigh i' the way. + + + + +A THRENODY + + +I. + + The rainy smell of a ferny dell, + Whose shadow no sunray flaws, + When Autumn sits in the wayside weeds + Telling her beads + Of haws. + + +II. + + The phantom mist, that is moonbeam-kissed, + On hills where the trees are thinned, + When Autumn leans at the oak-root's scarp, + Playing a harp + Of wind. + + +III. + + The crickets' chirr 'neath brier and burr, + By leaf-strewn pools and streams, + When Autumn stands 'mid the dropping nuts, + With the book, she shuts, + Of dreams. + + +IV. + + The gray "alas" of the days that pass, + And the hope that says "adieu," + A parting sorrow, a shriveled flower, + And one ghost's hour + With you. + + + + +SNOW + + + The moon, like a round device + On a shadowy shield of war, + Hangs white in a heaven of ice + With a solitary star. + + The wind is sunk to a sigh, + And the waters are stern with frost; + And gray, in the eastern sky, + The last snow-cloud is lost. + + White fields, that are winter-starved, + Black woods, that are winter-fraught, + Cold, harsh as a face death-carved + With the iron of some black thought. + + + + +VAGABONDS + + + Your heart's a-tune with April and mine a-tune with June, + So let us go a-roving beneath the summer moon: + Oh, was it in the sunlight, or was it in the rain, + We met among the blossoms within the locust lane? + All that I can remember's the bird that sang aboon, + And with its music in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon. + + A love-word of the wind, dear, of which we'll read the rune, + While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon: + A love-kiss of the water we'll often stop to hear-- + The echoed words and kisses of our own love, my dear: + And all our path shall blossom with wild-rose sweets that swoon, + And with their fragrance in our hearts we'll rove beneath the moon. + + It will not be forever, yet merry goes the tune + While we still go a-roving beneath the summer moon: + A cabin, in the clearing, of flickering firelight + When old-time lanes we strolled in the winter snows make white: + Where we can nod together above the logs and croon + The songs we sang when roving beneath the summer moon. + + + + +AN OLD SONG + + + It's Oh, for the hills, where the wind's some one + With a vagabond foot that follows! + And a cheer-up hand that he claps upon + Your arm with the hearty words, "Come on! + We'll soon be out of the hollows, + My heart! + We'll soon be out of the hollows!" + + It's Oh, for the songs, where the hope's some one + With a renegade foot that doubles! + And a kindly look that he turns upon + Your face with the friendly laugh, "Come on! + We'll soon be out of the troubles, + My heart! + We'll soon be out of the troubles!" + + + + +A ROSE O' THE HILLS + + + The hills look down on wood and stream, + On orchard-land and farm; + And o'er the hills the azure-gray + Of heaven bends the livelong day + With thoughts of calm and storm. + + On wood and stream the hills look down, + On farm and orchard-land; + And o'er the hills she came to me + Through wildrose-brake and blackberry, + The hill wind hand in hand. + + The hills look down on home and field, + On wood and winding stream; + And o'er the hills she came along, + Upon her lips a woodland song, + And in her eyes, a dream. + + On home and field the hills look down, + On stream and vistaed wood; + And breast-deep, with disordered hair, + Fair in the wildrose tangle there, + A sudden space she stood. + + O hills, that look on rock and road, + On grove and harvest-field, + To whom God giveth rest and peace, + And slumber, that is kin to these, + And visions unrevealed! + + O hills, that look on road and rock, + On field and fruited grove, + What now is mine of peace and rest + In you! since entered at my breast + God's sweet unrest of love! + + + + +DIRGE + + + What shall her silence keep + Under the sun? + Here, where the willows weep + And waters run; + Here, where she lies asleep, + And all is done. + + Lights, when the tree-top swings; + Scents that are sown; + Sounds of the wood-bird's wings; + And the bee's drone: + These be her comfortings + Under the stone. + + What shall watch o'er her here + When day is fled? + Here, when the night is near + And skies are red; + Here, where she lieth dear + And young and dead. + + Shadows, and winds that spill + Dew; and the tune + Of the wild whippoorwill; + And the white moon; + These be the watchers still + Over her stone. + + + + +REST + + + Under the brindled beech, + Deep in the mottled shade, + Where the rocks hang in reach + Flower and ferny blade, + Let him be laid. + + Here will the brooks, that rove + Under the mossy trees, + Grave with the music of + Underworld melodies, + Lap him in peace. + + Here will the winds, that blow + Out of the haunted west, + Gold with the dreams that glow + There on the heaven's breast, + Lull him to rest. + + Here will the stars and moon, + Silent and far and deep, + Old with the mystic rune + Of the slow years that creep, + Charm him with sleep. + + Under the ancient beech, + Deep in the mossy shade, + Where the hill moods may reach, + Where the hill dreams may aid, + Let him be laid. + + + + +CLAIRVOYANCE + + + The sunlight that makes of the heaven + A pathway for sylphids to throng; + The wind that makes harps of the forests + For spirits to smite into song, + Are the image and voice of a vision + That comforts my heart and makes strong. + + I look in one's face, and the shadows + Are lifted: and, lo, I can see, + Through windows of evident being, + That open on eternity, + The form of the essence of Beauty + God clothes with His own mystery. + + I lean to one's voice, and the wrangle + Of living hath pause: and I hear + Through doors of invisible spirit, + That open on light that is clear, + The radiant raiment of Music + In the hush of the heavens sweep near. + + + + +INDIFFERENCE + + + She is so dear the wildflowers near + Each path she passes by, + Are over fain to kiss again + Her feet and then to die. + + She is so fair the wild birds there + That sing upon the bough, + Have learned the staff of her sweet laugh, + And sing no other now. + + Alas! that she should never see, + Should never care to know, + The wildflower's love, the bird's above, + And his, who loves her so! + + + + +PICTURED + + + This is the face of her + I've dreamed of long; + Here in my heart's despair, + This is the face of her + Pictured in song. + + Look on the lily lids, + The eyes of dawn, + Deep as a Nereid's, + Swimming with dewy lids + In waters wan. + + Look on the brows of snow, + The locks brown-bright; + Only young sleep can show + Such brows of placid snow, + Such locks of night. + + The cheeks, like rosy moons, + The lips of fire; + Love thinks no sweeter tunes + Under enchanted moons + Than their desire. + + Loved lips and eyes and hair, + Lo, this is she! + She, who sits smiling there + Over my heart's despair, + Never for me! + + + + +SERENADE + + + The pink rose drops its petals on + The moonlit lawn, the moonlit lawn; + The moon, like some wide rose of white, + Drops down the summer night. + No rose there is + As sweet as this-- + Thy mouth, that greets me with a kiss. + + The lattice of thy casement twines + With jasmine vines, with jasmine vines; + The stars, like jasmine blossoms, lie + About the glimmering sky. + No jasmine tress + Can so caress + As thy white arms' soft loveliness. + + About thy door magnolia blooms + Make sweet the glooms, make sweet the glooms; + A moon-magnolia is the dusk + Closed in a dewy husk. + However much, + No bloom gives such + Soft fragrance as thy bosom's touch. + + The flowers, blooming now, shall pass, + And strew the grass, and strew the grass; + The night, like some frail flower, dawn + Shall soon make gray and wan. + Still, still above, + The flower of + True love shall live forever, love. + + + + +KINSHIP + + +I. + + There is no flower of wood or lea, + No April flower, as fair as she: + O white anemone, who hast + The wind's wild grace, + Know her a cousin of thy race, + Into whose face + A presence like the wind's hath passed. + + +II. + + There is no flower of wood or lea, + No Maytime flower, as fair as she: + O bluebell, tender with the blue + Of limpid skies, + Thy lineage hath kindred ties + In her, whose eyes + The heav'n's own qualities imbue. + + +III. + + There is no flower of wood or lea, + No Juneday flower, as fair as she: + Rose,--odorous with beauty of + Life's first and best,-- + Behold thy sister here confessed! + Whose maiden breast + Is fragrant with the dreams of love. + + + + +SHE IS SO MUCH + + + She is so much to me, to me, + And, oh! I love her so, + I look into my soul and see + How comfort keeps me company + In hopes she, too, may know. + I love her, I love her, I love her, + This I know. + + So dear she is to me, so dear, + And, oh! I love her so, + I listen in my heart and hear + The voice of gladness singing near + In thoughts she, too, may know. + I love her, I love her, I love her, + This I know. + + So much she is to me, so much, + And, oh! I love her so, + In heart and soul I feel the touch + Of angel callers, that are such + Dreams as she, too, may know. + I love her, I love her, I love her, + This I know. + + + + +HER EYES + + + In her dark eyes dreams poetize; + The soul sits lost in love: + There is no thing in all the skies, + To gladden all the world I prize, + Like the deep love in her dark eyes, + Or one sweet dream thereof. + + In her dark eyes, where thoughts arise, + Her soul's soft moods I see: + Of hope and faith, that make life wise; + And charity, whose food is sighs-- + Not truer than her own true eyes + Is truth's divinity. + + In her dark eyes the knowledge lies + Of an immortal sod, + Her soul once trod in angel-guise, + Nor can forget its heavenly ties, + Since, there in Heaven, upon her eyes + Once gazed the eyes of God. + + + + +MESSENGERS + + + The wind, that gives the rose a kiss + With murmured music of the south, + Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this,-- + The wind, that gives the rose a kiss-- + The perfume of her mouth. + + The brook, that mirrors skies and trees, + And echoes in a grottoed place, + Hath held a fairer thing than these,-- + The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,-- + The image of her face. + + O happy wind! O happy brook! + So dear before, so free of cares! + How dearer since her kiss and look,-- + O happy wind! O happy brook!-- + Have blessed you unawares! + + + + +AT TWENTY-ONE + + + The rosy hills of her high breasts, + Whereon, like misty morning, rests + The breathing lace; her auburn hair, + Wherein, a star point sparkling there, + One jewel burns; her eyes, that keep + Recorded dreams of song and sleep; + Her mouth, with whose comparison + The richest rose were poor and wan; + Her throat, her form--what masterpiece + Of man can picture half of these! + She comes! a classic from the hand + Of God! wherethrough I understand + What Nature means and Art and Love, + And all the lovely Myths thereof. + + + + +BABY MARY + +TO LITTLE M. E. C. G. + + + Deep in baby Mary's eyes, + Baby Mary's sweet blue eyes, + Dwell the golden memories + Of the music once her ears + Heard in far-off Paradise; + So she has no time for tears,-- + Baby Mary,-- + Listening to the songs she hears. + + Soft in baby Mary's face, + Baby Mary's lovely face, + If you watch, you, too, may trace + Dreams her spirit-self hath seen + In some far-off Eden-place, + Whence her soul she can not wean,-- + Baby Mary,-- + Dreaming in a world between. + + + + +A MOTIVE IN GOLD AND GRAY + + +I. + + To-night he sees their star burn, dewy-bright, + Deep in the pansy, eve hath made for it, + Low in the west; a placid purple lit + At its far edge with warm auroral light: + Love's planet hangs above a cedared height; + And there in shadow, like gold music writ + Of dusk's dark fingers, scale-like fire-flies flit + Now up, now down the balmy bars of night. + How different from that eve a year ago! + Which was a stormy flower in the hair + Of dolorous day, whose sombre eyes looked, blurred, + Into night's sibyl face, and saw the woe + Of parting near, and imaged a despair, + As now a hope caught from a homing word. + + +II. + + She came unto him--as the springtime does + Unto the land where all lies dead and cold, + Until her rosary of days is told + And beauty, prayer-like, blossoms where death was.-- + Nature divined her coming--yea, the dusk + Seemed thinking of that happiness: behold, + No cloud it had to blot its marigold + Moon, great and golden, o'er the slopes of musk; + Whereon earth's voice made music; leaf and stream + Lilting the same low lullaby again, + To coax the wind, who romped among the hills + All day, a tired child, to sleep and dream: + When through the moonlight of the locust-lane + She came, as spring comes through her daffodils. + + +III. + + White as a lily molded of Earth's milk + That eve the moon swam in a hyacinth sky; + Soft in the gleaming glens the wind went by, + Faint as a phantom clothed in unseen silk: + Bright as a naiad's leap, from shine to shade, + The runnel twinkled through the shaken brier; + Above the hills one long cloud, pulsed with fire, + Flashed like a great, enchantment-welded blade. + And when the western sky seemed some weird land, + And night a witching spell at whose command + One sloping star fell green from heav'n; and deep + The warm rose opened for the moth to sleep; + Then she, consenting, laid her hands in his, + And lifted up her lips for their first kiss. + + +IV. + + There where they part, the porch's step is strewn + With wind-tossed petals of the purple vine; + Athwart the porch the shadow of a pine + Cleaves the white moonlight; and, like some calm rune + Heaven says to Earth, shines the majestic moon; + And now a meteor draws a lilac line + Across the welkin, as if God would sign + The perfect poem of this night of June. + The wood-wind stirs the flowering chestnut-tree, + Whose curving blossoms strew the glimmering grass + Like crescents that wind-wrinkled waters glass; + And, like a moonstone in a frill of flame, + The dew-drop trembles on the peony, + As in a lover's heart his sweetheart's name. + + +V. + + In after years shall she stand here again, + In heart regretful? and with lonely sighs + Think on that night of love, and realize + Whose was the fault whence grew the parting pain? + And, in her soul, persuading still in vain, + Shall doubt take shape, and all its old surmise + Bid darker phantoms of remorse arise + Trailing the raiment of a dead disdain? + Masks, unto whom shall her avowal yearn, + With looks clairvoyant seeing how each is + A different form, with eyes and lips that burn + Into her heart with love's last look and kiss?-- + And, ere they pass, shall she behold them turn + To her a face which evermore is his? + + +VI. + + In after years shall he remember how + Dawn had no breeze soft as her murmured name? + And day no sunlight that availed the same + As her bright smile to cheer the world below? + Nor had the conscious twilight's golds and grays + Her soul's allurement, that was free of blame,-- + Nor dusk's gold canvas, where one star's white flame + Shone, more bewitchment than her own sweet ways.-- + Then as the night with moonlight and perfume, + And dew and darkness, qualifies the whole + Dim world with glamour, shall the past with dreams-- + That were the love-theme of their lives--illume + The present with remembered hours, whose gleams, + Unknown to him, shall face them soul to soul? + + +VII. + + No! not for her and him that part;---the Might- + Have-Been's sad consolation;--where had bent, + Haply, in prayer and patience penitent, + Both, though apart, before no blown-out light. + The otherwise of fate for them, when white + The lilacs bloom again, and, innocent, + Spring comes with beauty for her testament, + Singing the praises of the day and night. + When orchards blossom and the distant hill + Is vague with haw-trees as a ridge with mist, + The moon shall see him where a watch he keeps + By her young form that lieth white and still, + With lidded eyes and passive wrist on wrist, + While by her side he bows himself and weeps. + + +VIII. + + And, oh, what pain to see the blooms appear + Of haw and dogwood in the spring again; + The primrose leaning with the dragging rain, + And hill-locked orchards swarming far and near. + To see the old fields, that her steps made dear, + Grow green with deepening plenty of the grain, + Yet feel how this excess of life is vain,-- + How vain to him!--since she no more is here. + What though the woodland burgeon, water flow, + Like a rejoicing harp, beneath the boughs! + The cat-bird and the hermit-thrush arouse + Day with the impulsive music of their love! + Beneath the graveyard sod she will not know, + Nor what his heart is all too conscious of! + + +IX. + + How blessed is he who, gazing in the tomb, + Can yet behold, beneath th' investing mask + Of mockery,--whose horror seems to ask + Sphinx-riddles of the soul within the gloom,-- + Upon dead lips no dust of Love's dead bloom; + And in dead hands no shards of Faith's rent flask; + But Hope, who still stands at her starry task, + Weaving the web of comfort on her loom! + Thrice blessed! who, 'though he hear the tomb proclaim, + How all is Death's and Life Death's other name; + Can yet reply: "O Grave, these things are yours! + But that is left which life indeed assures-- + Love, through whose touch I shall arise the same! + Love, of whose self was wrought the universe!" + + + + +A REED SHAKEN WITH THE WIND + + +I. + + Not for you and me the path + Winding through the shadowless + Fields of morning's dewiness! + Where the brook, that hurries, hath + Laughter lighter than a boy's; + Where recurrent odors poise, + Romp-like, with irreverent tresses, + In the sun; and birds and boughs + Build a music-haunted house + For the winds to hang their dresses, + Whisper-silken, rustling in. + Ours a path that led unto + Twilight regions gray with dew; + Where moon-vapors gathered thin + Over acres sisterless + Of all healthy beauty; where + Fungus growths made sad the air + With a phantom-like caress: + Under darkness and strange stars, + To the sorrow-silenced bars + Of a dubious forestland, + Where the wood-scents seemed to stand, + And the sounds, on either hand, + Clad like sleep's own servitors + In the shadowy livery + Of the ancient house of dreams; + That before us,--fitfully, + With white intermittent gleams + Of its pale-lamped windows,--shone; + Echoing with the dim unknown. + + +II. + + To say to hope,--Take all from me, + And grant me naught: + The rose, the song, the melody, + The word, the thought: + Then all my life bid me be slave,-- + Is all I crave. + + To say to time,--Be true to me, + Nor grant me less + The dream, the sigh, the memory, + The heart's distress; + Then unto death set me a task, + Is all I ask. + + +III. + + I came to you when eve was young. + And, where the park went downward to + The river, and, among the dew, + One vesper moment lit and sung + A bird, your eyes said something dear. + How sweet it was to walk with you! + How, with our souls, we seemed to hear + The darkness coming with its stars! + How calm the moon sloped up her sphere + Of fire-filled pearl through passive bars + Of clouds that berged the tender east! + While all the dark inanimate + Of nature woke; initiate + With th' moon's arrival, something ceased + In nature's soul; she stood again + Another self, that seemed t' have been + Dormant, suppressed and so unseen + All day; a life, unknown and strange + And dream-suggestive, that had lain,-- + Masked on with light,--within the range + Of thought, but unrevealed till now. + It was the hour of love. And you, + With downward eyes and pensive brow, + Among the moonlight and the dew,-- + Although no word of love was spoken,-- + Heard the sweet night's confession broken + Of something here that spoke in me; + A love, depth made inaudible, + Save to your soul, that answered well, + With eyes replying silently. + + +IV. + + Fair you are as a rose is fair, + There where the shadows dew it; + And the deeps of your brown, brown hair, + Sweet as the cloud that lingers there + With the sunset's auburn through it. + Eyes of azure and throat of snow, + Tell me what my heart would know! + + Every dream I dream of you + Has a love-thought in it, + And a hope, a kiss or two, + Something dear and something true, + Telling me each minute, + With three words it whispers clear, + What my heart from you would hear. + + +V. + + Summer came; the days grew kind + With increasing favors; deep + Were the nights with rest and sleep: + Fair, with poppies intertwined + On their blonde locks, dreamy hours, + Sunny-hearted as the rose, + Went among the banded flowers, + Teaching them, how no one knows, + Fresher color and perfume.-- + In the window of your room + Bloomed a rich azalea. Pink, + As an egret's rosy plumes, + Shone its tender-tufted blooms. + From your care and love, I think, + Love's rose-color it did drink, + Growing rosier day by day + Of your 'tending hand's caress; + And your own dear naturalness + Had imbued it in some way. + Once you gave a blossom of it, + Smiling, to me when I left: + Need I tell you how I love it + Faded though it is now!--Reft + Of its fragrance and its color, + Yet 'tis dearer now than then, + As past happiness is when + We regret. And dimmer, duller + Though its beauty be, when I + Look upon it, I recall + Every part of that old wall; + And the dingy window high, + Where you sat and read; and all + The fond love that made your face + A soft sunbeam in that place: + And the plant, that grew this bloom + Withered here, itself long dead, + Makes a halo overhead + There again--and through my room, + Like faint whispers of perfume, + Steal the words of love then said. + + +VI. + + All of my love I send to you, + I send to you, + On thoughts, like paths, that wend to you, + Here in my heart's glad garden, + Wherein, its lovely warden, + Your face, a lily seeming, + Is dreaming. + + All of my life I bring to you, + I bring to you, + In deeds, like birds, that sing to you, + Here, in my soul's sweet valley, + Wherethrough, most musically, + Your love, a fountain, glistens, + And listens. + + My love, my life, how blessed in you! + How blessed in you! + Whose thoughts, whose deeds find rest in you, + Here, on my self's dark ocean, + Whereo'er, in heavenly motion, + Your soul, a star, abideth, + And guideth. + + +VII. + + Where the old Kentucky wound + Through the land,--its stream between + Hills of primitive forest green,-- + Like a goodly belt around + Giant breasts of grandeur; with + Many an unknown Indian myth, + On the boat we steamed. The land + Like an hospitable hand + Welcomed us. Alone we sat + On the under-deck, and saw + Farm-house and plantation draw + Near and vanish. 'Neath your hat, + Your young eyes laughed; and your hair, + Blown about them by the air + Of our passage, clung and curled. + Music, and the summer moon; + And the hills' great shadows hewn + Out of silence; and the tune + Of the whistle, when we whirled + Round a moonlit bend in sight of + Some lone landing heaped with hay + Or tobacco; where the light of + One dim solitary lamp + Signaled through the evening's damp: + Then a bell; and, dusky gray, + Shuffling figures on the shore + With the cable; rugged forms + On the gang-plank; backs and arms + With their cargo bending o'er; + And the burly mate before. + Then an iron bell, and puff + Of escaping steam; and out + Where the stream is wheel-whipped rough; + Music, and a parting shout + From the shore; the pilot's bell + Beating on the deck below; + Then the steady, quivering, slow + Smooth advance again. Until + Twinkling lights beyond us tell + There's a lock or little town, + Clasped between a hill and hill, + Where the blue-grass fields slope down.-- + So we went. That summer-time + Lingers with me like a rhyme + Learned for dreamy beauty of + Its old-fashioned faith and love, + In some musing moment; sith + Heart-associated with + Joy that moment's quiet bore, + Thought repeated evermore. + + +VIII. + + Three sweet things love lives upon: + Music, at whose fountain's brink + Still he stoops his face to drink; + Seeing, as the wave is drawn, + His own image rise and sink. + Three sweet things love lives upon. + + Three sweet things love lives upon: + Odor, whose red roses wreathe + His bright brow that shines beneath; + Hearing, as each bud is blown, + His own spirit breathe and breathe. + Three sweet things love lives upon. + + Three sweet things love lives upon: + Color, to whose rainbow he + Lifts his dark eyes burningly; + Feeling, as the wild hues dawn, + His own immortality. + Three sweet things love lives upon. + + +IX. + + Memories of other days, + With the whilom happiness, + Rise before my musing gaze + In the twilight ... And your dress + Seems beside me, like a haze + Shimmering white; as when we went + 'Neath the star-strewn firmament, + Love-led, with impatient feet + Down the night that, summer-sweet, + Sparkled o'er the lamp-lit street. + Every look love gave us then + Comes before my eyes again, + Making music for my heart + On that path, that grew for us + Roses, red and amorous, + On that path, from which oft start, + Out of recollected places, + With remembered forms and faces, + Dreams, love's ardent hands have woven + In my life's dark tapestry, + Beckoning, soft and shadowy, + To the soul. And o'er the cloven + Gulf of time, I seem to hear + Words, once whispered in the ear, + Calling--as might friends long dead, + With familiar voices, deep, + Speak to those who lie asleep, + Comforting--So I was led + Backward to forgotten things, + Contiguities that spread + Sudden unremembered wings; + And across my mind's still blue + From the nest they fledged in, flew + Dazzling shapes affection knew. + + +X. + + Ah! over full my heart is + Of sadness and of pain; + As a rose-flower in the garden + The dull dusk fills with rain; + As a blown red rose that shivers + And bends to the wind and rain. + + So give me thy hands and speak me + As once in the days of yore, + When love spoke sweetly to us, + The love that speaks no more; + The sound of thy voice may help him + To speak in our hearts once more. + + Ah! over grieved my soul is, + And tired and sick for sleep, + As a poppy-bloom that withers, + Forgotten, where reapers reap; + As a harvested poppy-flower + That dies where reapers reap. + + So bend to my face and kiss me + As once in the days of yore, + When the touch of thy lips was magic + That restored to life once more; + The thought of thy kiss, which awakens + To life that love once more. + + +XI. + + Sitting often I have, oh! + Often have desired you so-- + Yearned to kiss you as I did + When your love to me you gave, + In the moonlight, by the wave, + And a long impetuous kiss + Pressed upon your mouth that chid, + And upon each dewy lid-- + That, all passion-shaken, I + With love language will address + Each dear thing I know you by, + Picture, needle-work or frame: + Each suggestive in the same + Perfume of past happiness: + Till, meseems, the ways we knew + Now again I tread with you + From the oldtime tryst: and there + Feel the pressure of your hair + Cool and easy on my cheek, + And your breath's aroma: bare + Hand upon my arm, as weak + As a lily on a stream: + And your eyes, that gaze at me + With the sometime witchery, + To my inmost spirit speak. + And remembered ecstacy + Sweeps my soul again ... I seem + Dreaming, yet I do not dream. + + +XII. + + When day dies, lone, forsaken, + And joy is kissed asleep; + When doubt's gray eyes awaken, + And love, with music taken + From hearts with sighings shaken, + Sits in the dusk to weep: + + With ghostly lifted finger + What memory then shall rise?-- + Of dark regret the bringer-- + To tell the sorrowing singer + Of days whose echoes linger, + Till dawn unstars the skies. + + When night is gone and, beaming, + Faith journeys forth to toil; + When hope's blue eyes wake gleaming, + And life is done with dreaming + The dreams that seem but seeming, + Within the world's turmoil: + + Can we forget the presence + Of death who walks unseen? + Whose scythe casts shadowy crescents + Around life's glittering essence, + As lessens, slowly lessens, + The space that lies between. + + +XIII. + + Bland was that October day, + Calm and balmy as the spring, + When we went a forest-way, + 'Neath paternal beeches gray, + To a valleyed opening: + Where the purple aster flowered, + And, like torches shadow-held, + Red the fiery sumach towered; + And, where gum-trees sentineled + Vistas, robed in gold and garnet, + Ripe the thorny chestnut shelled + Its brown plumpness. Bee and hornet + Droned around us; quick the cricket, + Tireless in the wood-rose thicket, + Tremoloed; and, to the wind + All its moon-spun silver casting, + Swung the milk-weed pod unthinned; + And, its clean flame on the sod + By the fading golden-rod, + Burned the white life-everlasting. + It was not so much the time, + Nor the place, nor way we went, + That made all our moods to rhyme, + Nor the season's sentiment, + As it was the innocent + Carefree childhood of our hearts, + Reading each expression of + Death and care as life and love: + That impression joy imparts + Unto others and retorts + On itself, which then made glad + All the sorrow of decay, + As the memory of that day + Makes this day of spring, now, sad. + + +XIV. + + The balsam-breathed petunias + Hang riven of the rain; + And where the tiger-lily was + Now droops a tawny stain; + While in the twilight's purple pause + Earth dreams of Heaven again. + + When one shall sit and sigh, + And one lie all alone + Beneath the unseen sky-- + Whose love shall then deny? + Whose love atone? + + With ragged petals round its pod + The rain-wrecked poppy dies; + And where the hectic rose did nod + A crumbled crimson lies; + While distant as the dreams of God + The stars slip in the skies. + + When one shall lie asleep, + And one be dead and gone-- + Within the unknown deep, + Shall we the trysts then keep + That now are done? + + +XV. + + Holding both your hands in mine, + Often have we sat together, + While, outside, the boisterous weather + Hung the wild wind on the pine + Like a black marauder, and + With a sudden warning hand + At the casement rapped. The night + Read no sentiment of light, + Starbeam-syllabled, within + Her romance of death and sin, + Shadow-chaptered tragicly.-- + Looking in your eyes, ah me! + Though I heard, I did not heed + What the night read unto us, + Threatening and ominous: + For love helped my heart to read + Forward through unopened pages + To a coming day, that held + More for us than all the ages + Past, that it epitomized + In its sentence; where we spelled + What our present realized + Only--all the love that was + Past and yet to be for us. + + +XVI. + + 'Though in the garden, gray with dew, + All life lies withering, + And there's no more to say or do, + No more to sigh or sing, + Yet go we back the ways we knew, + When buds were opening. + + Perhaps we shall not search in vain + Within its wreck and gloom; + 'Mid roses ruined of the rain + There still may live one bloom; + One flower, whose heart may still retain + The long-lost soul-perfume. + + And then, perhaps, will come to us + The dreams we dreamed before; + And song, who spoke so beauteous, + Will speak to us once more; + And love, with eyes all amorous, + Will ope again his door. + + So 'though the garden's gray with dew, + And flowers are withering, + And there's no more to say or do, + No more to sigh or sing, + Yet go we back the ways we knew + When buds were opening. + + +XVII. + + Looking on the desolate street, + Where the March snow drifts and drives, + Trodden black of hurrying feet, + Where the athlete storm-wind strives + With each tree and dangling light,-- + Centers, sphered with glittering white,-- + Hissing in the dancing snow ... + Backward in my soul I go + To that tempest-haunted night + Of two autumns past, when we, + Hastening homeward, were o'ertaken + Of the storm; and 'neath a tree, + With its wild leaves whisper-shaken, + Sheltered us in that forsaken, + Sad and ancient cemetery,-- + Where folk came no more to bury.-- + Haggard grave-stones, mossed and crumbled, + Tottered 'round us, or o'ertumbled + In their sunken graves; and some, + Urned and obelisked above + Iron-fenced in tombs, stood dumb + Records of forgotten love. + And again I see the west + Yawning inward to its core + Of electric-spasmed ore, + Swiftly, without pause or rest. + And a great wind sweeps the dust + Up abandoned sidewalks; and, + In the rotting trees, the gust + Shouts again--a voice that would + Make its gaunt self understood + Moaning over death's lean land. + And we sat there, hand in hand; + On the granite; where we read, + By the leaping skies o'erhead, + Something of one young and dead. + Yet the words begot no fear + In our souls: you leaned your cheek + Smiling on mine: very near + Were our lips: we did not speak. + + +XVIII. + + And suddenly alone I stood + With scared eyes gazing through the wood. + For some still sign of ill or good, + To lead me from the solitude. + + The day was at its twilighting; + One cloud o'erhead spread a vast wing + Of rosy thunder; vanishing + Above the far hills' mystic ring. + + Some stars shone timidly o'erhead; + And toward the west's cadaverous red-- + Like some wild dream that haunts the dead + In limbo--the lean moon was led. + + Upon the sad, debatable + Vague lands of twilight slowly fell + A silence that I knew too well, + A sorrow that I can not tell. + + What way to take, what path to go, + Whether into the east's gray glow, + Or where the west burnt red and low-- + What road to choose, I did not know. + + So, hesitating, there I stood + Lost in my soul's uncertain wood: + One sign I craved of ill or good, + To lead me from its solitude. + + +XIX. + + It was autumn: and a night, + Full of whispers and of mist, + With a gray moon, wanly whist, + Hanging like a phantom light + O'er the hills. We stood among + Windy fields of weed and flower, + Where the withered seed pod hung, + And the chill leaf-crickets sung. + Melancholy was the hour + With the mystery and loneness + Of the year, that seemed to look + On its own departed face; + As our love then, in its oneness, + All its dead past did retrace, + And from that sad moment took + Presage of approaching parting.-- + Sorrowful the hour and dark: + Low among the trees, now starting, + Now concealed, a star's pale spark-- + Like a fen-fire--winked and lured + On to shuddering shadows; where + All was doubtful, unassured, + Immaterial; and the bare + Facts of unideal day + Changed to substance such as dreams. + And meseemed then, far away-- + Farther than remotest gleams + Of the stars--lost, separated, + And estranged, and out of reach, + Grew our lives away from each, + Loving lives, that long had waited. + + +XX. + + There is no gladness in the day + Now you're away; + Dull is the morn, the noon is dull, + Once beautiful; + And when the evening fills the skies + With dusky dyes, + With tired eyes and tired heart + I sit alone, I sigh apart, + And wish for you. + + Ah! darker now the night comes on + Since you are gone; + Sad are the stars, the moon is sad, + Once wholly glad; + And when the stars and moon are set, + And earth lies wet, + With heart's regret and soul's hard ache, + I dream alone, I lie awake, + And wish for you. + + These who once spake me, speak no more, + Now all is o'er; + Day hath forgot the language of + Its hopes of love; + Night, whose sweet lips were burdensome + With dreams, is dumb; + Far different from what used to be, + With silence and despondency + They speak to me. + + +XXI. + + So it ends--the path that crept + Through a land all slumber-kissed; + Where the sickly moonlight slept + Like a pale antagonist. + Now the star, that led us onward,-- + Reassuring with its light,-- + Fails and falters; dipping downward + Leaves us wandering in night, + With old doubts we once disdained ... + So it ends. The woods attained-- + Where our heart's desire builded + A fair temple, fire-gilded, + With hope's marble shrine within, + Where the lineaments of our love + Shone, with lilies clad and crowned, + 'Neath white columns reared above + Sorrow and her sister sin, + Columns, rose and ribbon-wound,-- + In the forest we have found + But a ruin! All around + Lie the shattered capitals, + And vast fragments of the walls ... + Like a climbing cloud,--that plies, + Wind-wrecked, o'er the moon that lies + 'Neath its blackness,--taking on + Gradual certainties of wan, + Soft assaults of easy white, + Pale-approaching; till the skies' + Emptiness and hungry night + Claim its bulk again, while she + Rides in lonely purity: + So we found our temple, broken, + And a musing moment's space + Love, whose latest word was spoken, + Seemed to meet us face to face, + Making bright that ruined place + With a strange effulgence; then + Passed, and left all black again. + + + + +A FLOWER OF THE FIELDS. + + + Bee-bitten in the orchard hung + The peach; or, fallen in the weeds, + Lay rotting: where still sucked and sung + The gray bee, boring to its seed's + Pink pulp and honey blackly stung. + + The orchard path, which led around + The garden,--with its heat one twinge + Of dinning locusts,--picket-bound, + And ragged, brought me where one hinge + Held up the gate that scraped the ground. + + All seemed the same: the martin-box-- + Sun-warped with pigmy balconies-- + Still stood with all its twittering flocks, + Perched on its pole above the peas + And silvery-seeded onion-stocks. + + The clove-pink and the rose; the clump + Of coppery sunflowers, with the heat + Sick to the heart: the garden stump, + Red with geranium-pots and sweet + With moss and ferns, this side the pump. + + I rested, with one hesitant hand + Upon the gate. The lonesome day, + Droning with insects, made the land + One dry stagnation; soaked with hay + And scents of weeds, the hot wind fanned. + + I breathed the sultry scents, my eyes + Parched as my lips. And yet I felt + My limbs were ice. As one who flies + To some strange woe. How sleepy smelt + The hay-sweet heat that soaked the skies! + + Noon nodded; dreamier, lonesomer, + For one long, plaintive, forestside + Bird-quaver.--And I knew me near + Some heartbreak anguish ... She had died. + I felt it, and no need to hear! + + I passed the quince and peartree; where + All up the porch a grape-vine trails-- + How strange that fruit, whatever air + Or earth it grows in, never fails + To find its native flavor there! + + And she was as a flower, too, + That grows its proper bloom and scent + No matter what the soil: she, who, + Born better than her place, still lent + Grace to the lowliness she knew.... + + They met me at the porch, and were + Sad-eyed with weeping. Then the room + Shut out the country's heat and purr, + And left light stricken into gloom-- + So love and I might look on her. + + + + +THE WHITE VIGIL. + + + Last night I dreamed I saw you lying dead, + And by your sheeted form stood all alone: + Frail as a flow'r you lay upon your bed, + And on your still face, through the casement, shone + The moon, as lingering to kiss you there + Fall'n asleep, white violets in your hair. + + Oh, sick to weeping was my soul, and sad + To breaking was my heart that would not break; + And for my soul's great grief no tear I had, + No lamentation for my heart's deep ache; + Yet all I bore seemed more than I could bear + Beside you dead, white violets in your hair. + + A white rose, blooming at your window-bar, + And glimmering in it, like a fire-fly caught + Upon the thorns, the light of one white star, + Looked on with me; as if they felt and thought + As did my heart,--"How beautiful and fair + And young she lies, white violets in her hair!" + + And so we watched beside you, sad and still, + The star, the rose, and I. The moon had past, + Like a pale traveler, behind the hill + With all her echoed radiance. At last + The darkness came to hide my tears and share + My watch by you, white violets in your hair. + + + + +TOO LATE. + + + I looked upon a dead girl's face and heard + What seemed the voice of Love call unto me + Out of her heart; whereon the charactery + Of her lost dreams I read there word for word:-- + How on her soul no soul had touched, or stirred + Her Life's sad depths to rippling melody, + Or made the imaged longing, there, to be + The realization of a hope deferred. + So in her life had Love behaved to her. + Between the lonely chapters of her years + And her young eyes making no golden blur + With god-bright face and hair; who led me to + Her side at last, and bade me, through my tears, + With Death's dumb face, too late, to see and know. + + + + +INTIMATIONS. + + +I. + + Is it uneasy moonlight, + On the restless field, that stirs? + Or wild white meadow-blossoms + The night-wind bends and blurs? + + Is it the dolorous water, + That sobs in the wood and sighs? + Or heart of an ancient oak-tree, + That breaks and, sighing, dies? + + The wind is vague with the shadows + That wander in No-Man's Land; + The water is dark with the voices + That weep on the Unknown's strand. + + O ghosts of the winds who call me! + O ghosts of the whispering waves! + As sad as forgotten flowers, + That die upon nameless graves! + + What is this thing you tell me + In tongues of a twilight race, + Of death, with the vanished features, + Mantled, of my own face? + + +II. + + The old enigmas of the deathless dawns, + And riddles of the all immortal eves,-- + That still o'er Delphic lawns + Speak as the gods spoke through oracular leaves-- + I read with new-born eyes, + Remembering how, a slave, + I lay with breast bared for the sacrifice, + Once on a temple's pave. + + Or, crowned with hyacinth and helichrys, + How, towards the altar in the marble gloom,-- + Hearing the magadis + Dirge through the pale amaracine perfume,-- + 'Mid chanting priests I trod, + With never a sigh or pause, + To give my life to pacify a god, + And save my country's cause. + + Again: Cyrenian roses on wild hair, + And oil and purple smeared on breasts and cheeks, + How with mad torches there-- + Reddening the cedars of Cithaeron's peaks-- + With gesture and fierce glance, + Lascivious Maenad bands + Once drew and slew me in the Pyrrhic dance, + With Bacchanalian hands. + + +III. + + The music now that lays + Dim lips against my ears, + Some wild sad thing it says, + Unto my soul, of years + Long passed into the haze + Of tears. + + Meseems, before me are + The dark eyes of a queen, + A queen of Istakhar: + I seem to see her lean + More lovely than a star + Of mien. + + A slave, I stand before + Her jeweled throne; I kneel, + And, in a song, once more + My love for her reveal; + How once I did adore + I feel. + + Again her dark eyes gleam; + Again her red lips smile; + And in her face the beam + Of love that knows no guile; + And so she seems to dream + A while. + + Out of her deep hair then + A rose she takes--and I + Am made a god o'er men! + Her rose, that here did lie + When I, in th' wild-beasts' den, + Did die. + + +IV. + + Old paintings on its wainscots, + And, in its oaken hall, + Old arras; and the twilight + Of slumber over all. + + Old grandeur on its stairways; + And, in its haunted rooms, + Old souvenirs of greatness, + And ghosts of dead perfumes. + + The winds are phantom voices + Around its carven doors; + The moonbeams, specter footsteps + Upon its polished floors. + + Old cedars build around it + A solitude of sighs; + And the old hours pass through it + With immemorial eyes. + + But more than this I know not; + Nor where the house may be; + Nor what its ancient secret + And ancient grief to me. + + All that my soul remembers + Is that,--forgot almost,-- + Once, in a former lifetime, + 'Twas here I loved and lost. + + +V. + + In eoens of the senses, + My spirit knew of yore, + I found the Isle of Circe, + And felt her magic lore; + And still the soul remembers + What flesh would be once more. + + She gave me flowers to smell of + That wizard branches bore, + Of weird and sorcerous beauty, + Whose stems dripped human gore-- + Their scent when I remember + I know that world once more. + + She gave me fruits to eat of + That grew beside the shore, + Of necromantic ripeness, + With human flesh at core-- + Their taste when I remember + I know that life once more. + + And then, behold! a serpent, + That glides my face before, + With eyes of tears and fire + That glare me o'er and o'er-- + I look into its eyeballs, + And know myself once more. + + +VI. + + I have looked in the eyes of poesy, + And sat in song's high place; + And the beautiful spirits of music + Have spoken me face to face; + Yet here in my soul there is sorrow + They never can name nor trace. + + I have walked with the glamour gladness, + And dreamed with the shadow sleep; + And the presences, love and knowledge, + Have smiled in my heart's red keep; + Yet here in my soul there is sorrow + For the depth of their gaze too deep. + + The love and the hope God grants me, + The beauty that lures me on, + And the dreams of folly and wisdom + That thoughts of the spirit don, + Are but masks of an ancient sorrow + Of a life long dead and gone. + + Was it sin? or a crime forgotten? + Of a love that loved too well? + That sat on a throne of fire + A thousand years in hell? + That the soul with its nameless sorrow + Remembers but can not tell? + + + + +TWO. + + + With her soft face half turned to me, + Like an arrested moonbeam, she + Stood in the cirque of that deep tree. + + I took her by the hands; she raised + Her face to mine; and, half amazed, + Remembered; and we stood and gazed. + + How good to kiss her throat and hair, + And say no word!--Her throat was bare; + As some moon-fungus white and fair. + + Had God not giv'n us life for this? + The world-old, amorous happiness + Of arms that clasp, and lips that kiss! + + The eloquence of limbs and arms! + The rhetoric of breasts, whose charms + Say to the sluggish blood what warms! + + Had God or Fiend assigned this hour + That bloomed,--where love had all of power,-- + The senses' aphrodisiac flower? + + The dawn was far away. Nude night + Hung savage stars of sultry white + Around her bosom's Ethiop light. + + Night! night, who gave us each to each, + Where heart with heart could hold sweet speech, + With life's best gift within our reach. + + And here it was--between the goals + Of flesh and spirit, sex controls-- + Took place the marriage of our souls. + + + + +TONES. + + +I. + + A woman, fair to look upon, + Where waters whiten with the moon; + While down the glimmer of the lawn + The white moths swoon. + + A mouth of music; eyes of love; + And hands of blended snow and scent, + That touch the pearl-pale shadow of + An instrument. + + And low and sweet that song of sleep + After the song of love is hushed; + While all the longing, here, to weep, + Is held and crushed. + + Then leafy silence, that is musk + With breath of the magnolia-tree, + While dwindles, moon-white, through the dusk + Her drapery. + + Let me remember how a heart, + Romantic, wrote upon that night! + My soul still helps me read each part + Of it aright. + + And like a dead leaf shut between + A book's dull chapters, stained and dark, + That page, with immemorial green, + Of life I mark. + + +II. + + It is not well for me to hear + That song's appealing melody: + The pain of loss comes all too near, + Through it, to me. + + The loss of her whose love looks through + The mist death's hand hath hung between: + Within the shadow of the yew + Her grave is green. + + Ah, dream that vanished long ago! + Oh, anguish of remembered tears! + And shadow of unlifted woe + Athwart the years! + + That haunt the sad rooms of my days, + As keepsakes of unperished love, + Where pale the memory of her face + Is framed above. + + This olden song, she used to sing, + Of love and sleep, is now a charm + To open mystic doors and bring + Her spirit form. + + In music making visible + One soul-assertive memory, + That steals unto my side to tell + My loss to me. + + + + +UNFULFILLED. + + + In my dream last night it seemed I stood + With a boy's glad heart in my boyhood's wood. + + The beryl green and the cairngorm brown + Of the day through the deep leaves sifted down. + + The rippling drip of a passing shower + Rinsed wild aroma from herb and flower. + + The splash and urge of a waterfall + Spread stairwayed rocks with a crystal caul. + + And I waded the pool where the gravel gray, + And the last year's leaf, like a topaz lay. + + And searched the strip of the creek's dry bed + For the colored keel and the arrow-head. + + And I found the cohosh coigne the same, + Tossing with torches of pearly flame. + + The owlet dingle of vine and brier, + That the butterfly-weed flecked fierce with fire. + + The elder edge with its warm perfume, + And the sapphire stars of the bluet bloom; + + The moss, the fern, and the touch-me-not + I breathed, and the mint-smell keen and hot. + + And I saw the bird, that sang its best, + In the moted sunlight building its nest. + + And I saw the chipmunk's stealthy face, + And the rabbit crouched in a grassy place. + + And I watched the crows, that cawed and cried, + Hunting the hawk at the forest-side; + + The bees that sucked in the blossoms slim, + And the wasps that built on the lichened limb. + + And felt the silence, the dusk, the dread + Of the spot where they buried the unknown dead. + + The water murmur, the insect hum, + And a far bird calling, _Come, oh, come!_-- + + What sweeter music can mortals make + To ease the heart of its human ache!-- + + And it seemed in my dream, that was all too true, + That I met in the woods again with you. + + A sun-tanned face and brown bare knees, + And a hand stained red with dewberries. + + And we stood a moment some thing to tell, + And then in the woods we said farewell. + + But once I met you; yet, lo! it seems + Again and again we meet in dreams. + + And I ask my soul what it all may mean; + If this is the love that should have been. + + And oft and again I wonder, _Can_ + _What God intends be changed by man?_ + + + + +HOME. + + + Among the fields the camomile + Seems blown steam in the lightning's glare. + Unusual odors drench the air. + Night speaks above; the angry smile + Of storm within her stare. + + The way for me to-night?--To-night, + Is through the wood whose branches fill + The road with dripping rain-drops. Till, + Between the boughs, a star-like light-- + Our home upon the hill. + + The path for me to take?--It goes + Around a trailer-tangled rock, + 'Mid puckered pink and hollyhock, + Unto a latch-gate's unkempt rose, + And door whereat I knock. + + Bright on the old-time flower-place + The lamp streams through the foggy pane. + The door is opened to the rain; + And in the door--her happy face, + And eager hands again. + + + + +ASHLY MERE. + + + Come! look in the shadowy water here, + The stagnant water of Ashly Mere: + Where the stirless depths are dark but clear, + What is the thing that lies there?-- + A lily-pod half sunk from sight? + Or spawn of the toad all water-white? + Or ashen blur of the moon's wan light? + Or a woman's face and eyes there? + + Now lean to the water a listening ear, + The haunted water of Ashly Mere: + What is the sound that you seem to hear + In the ghostly hush of the deeps there?-- + A withered reed that the ripple lips? + Or a night-bird's wing that the surface whips? + Or the rain in a leaf that drips and drips? + Or a woman's voice that weeps there? + + Now look and listen! but draw not near + The lonely water of Ashly Mere!-- + For so it happens this time each year + As you lean by the mere and listen: + And the moaning voice I understand,-- + For oft I have watched it draw to land, + And lift from the water a ghastly hand + And a face whose eyeballs glisten. + + And this is the reason why every year + To the hideous water of Ashly Mere + I come when the woodland leaves are sear, + And the autumn moon hangs hoary: + For here by the mere was wrought a wrong ... + But the old, old story is over long-- + And woman is weak and man is strong ... + And the mere's and mine is the story. + + + + +BEFORE THE TOMB. + + + The way went under cedared gloom + To moonlight, like a cactus bloom, + Before the entrance of her tomb. + + I had an hour of night and thin + Sad starlight; and I set my chin + Against the grating and looked in. + + A gleam, like moonlight, through a square + Of opening--I knew not where-- + Shone on her coffin resting there. + + And on its oval silver-plate + I read her name and age and date, + And smiled, soft-thinking on my hate. + + There was no insect sound to chirr; + No wind to make a little stir. + I stood and looked and thought on her. + + The gleam stole downward from her head, + Till at her feet it rested red + On Gothic gold, that sadly said:-- + + "God to her love lent a weak reed + Of strength: and gave no light to lead: + Pray for her soul; for it hath need." + + There was no night-bird's twitter near, + No low vague water I might hear + To make a small sound in the ear. + + The gleam, that made a burning mark + Of each dim word, died to a spark; + Then left the tomb and coffin dark. + + I had a little while to wait; + And prayed with hands against the grate, + And heart that yearned and knew too late. + + There was no light below, above, + To point my soul the way thereof,-- + The way of hate that led to love. + + + + +REVISITED. + + + It was beneath a waning moon when all the woods were sear, + And winds made eddies of the leaves that whispered far and near, + I met her on the old mill-bridge we parted at last year. + + At first I deemed it but a mist that faltered in that place, + An autumn mist beneath the trees that sentineled the race; + Until I neared and in the moon beheld her face to face. + + The waver of the summer-heat upon the drouth-dry leas; + The shimmer of the thistle-drift a down the silences; + The gliding of the fairy-fire between the swamp and trees; + + They qualified her presence as a sorrow may a dream-- + The vague suggestion of a self; the glimmer of a gleam; + The actual unreal of the things that only seem. + + Where once she came with welcome and glad eyes all loving-wise, + She passed and gave no greeting that my heart might recognize, + With far-set face unseeing and sad unremembering eyes. + + It was beneath a waning moon when woods were bleak and sear, + And winds made whispers of the leaves that eddied far and near, + I met her ghost upon the bridge we parted at last year. + + + + +AT VESPERS. + + + High up in the organ-story + A girl stands slim and fair; + And touched with the casement's glory + Gleams out her radiant hair. + + The young priest kneels at the altar, + Then lifts the Host above; + And the psalm intoned from the psalter + Is pure with patient love. + + A sweet bell chimes; and a censer + Swings gleaming in the gloom; + The candles glimmer and denser + Rolls up the pale perfume. + + Then high in the organ choir + A voice of crystal soars, + Of patience and soul's desire, + That suffers and adores. + + And out of the altar's dimness + An answering voice doth swell, + Of passion that cries from the grimness + And anguish of its own hell. + + High up in the organ-story + One kneels with a girlish grace; + And, touched with the vesper glory, + Lifts her madonna face. + + One stands at the cloudy altar, + A form bowed down and thin; + The text of the psalm in the psalter + He reads, is sorrow and sin. + + + + +THE CREEK. + + + O cheerly, cheerly by the road + And merrily down the billet; + And where the acre-field is sowed + With bristle-bearded millet. + + Then o'er a pebbled path that goes, + Through vista and through dingle, + Unto a farmstead's windowed rose, + And roof of moss and shingle. + + O darkly, darkly through the bush, + And dimly by the bowlder, + Where cane and water-cress grow lush, + And woodland wilds are older. + + Then o'er the cedared way that leads, + Through burr and bramble-thickets, + Unto a burial-ground of weeds + Fenced in with broken pickets. + + Then sadly, sadly down the vale, + And wearily through the rushes, + Where sunlight of the noon is pale, + And e'en the zephyr hushes. + + For oft her young face smiled upon + My deeps here, willow-shaded; + And oft with bare feet in the sun + My shallows there she waded. + + No more beneath the twinkling leaves + Shall stand the farmer's daughter!-- + Sing softly past the cottage eaves, + O memory-haunted water! + + No more shall bend her laughing face + Above me where the rose is!-- + Sigh softly past the burial-place, + Where all her youth reposes! + + + + +ANSWERED. + + + Do you remember how that night drew on? + That night of sorrow, when the stars looked wan + As eyes that gaze reproachful in a dream, + Loved eyes, long lost, and sadder than the grave? + How through the heaven stole the moon's gray gleam, + Like a nun's ghost down a cathedral nave?-- + Do you remember how that night drew on? + + Do you remember the hard words then said? + Said to the living,--now denied the dead,-- + That left me dead,--long, long before I died,-- + In heart and spirit?--me, your words had slain, + Telling how love to my poor life had lied, + Armed with the dagger of a pale disdain.-- + Do you remember the hard words then said? + + Do you remember, now this night draws down + The threatening heavens, that the lightnings crown + With wrecks of thunder? when no moon doth give + The clouds wild witchery?--as in a room, + Behind the sorrowful arras, still may live + The pallid secret of the haunted gloom.-- + Do you remember, now this night draws down? + + Do you remember, now it comes to pass + Your form is bowed as is the wind-swept grass? + And death hath won from you that confidence + Denied to life? now your sick soul rebels + Against your pride with tragic eloquence, + That self-crowned demon of the heart's fierce hells.-- + Do you remember, now it comes to pass? + + Do you remember?--Bid your soul be still. + Here passion hath surrendered unto will, + And flesh to spirit. Quiet your wild tongue + And wilder heart. Your kiss is naught to me. + The instrument love gave you lies unstrung, + Silent, forsaken of all melody. + Do you remember?--Bid your soul be still. + + + + +WOMAN'S PORTION. + + +I. + + The leaves are shivering on the thorn, + Drearily; + And sighing wakes the lean-eyed morn, + Wearily. + + I press my thin face to the pane, + Drearily; + But never will he come again. + (Wearily.) + + The rain hath sicklied day with haze, + Drearily; + My tears run downward as I gaze, + Wearily. + + The mist and morn spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What is this thing God gives to thee?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the morn and mist, + Drearily: + "The babe unborn whom sin hath kissed." + (Wearily.) + + The morn and mist spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What is this thing which thou dost see?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the mist and morn, + Drearily: + "The shame of man and woman's scorn." + (Wearily.) + + "He loved thee not," they made reply. + Drearily. + I said, "Would God had let me die!" + (Wearily.) + + +II. + + My dreams are as a closed up book, + (Drearily.) + Upon whose clasp of love I look, + Wearily. + + All night the rain raved overhead, + Drearily; + All night I wept awake in bed, + Wearily. + + I heard the wind sweep wild and wide, + Drearily; + I turned upon my face and sighed, + Wearily. + + The wind and rain spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What is this thing God takes from thee?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the rain and wind, + Drearily: + "The love, for which my soul hath sinned." + (Wearily.) + + The rain and wind spake unto me, + Drearily: + "What are these things thou still dost see?" + (Wearily.) + + I said unto the wind and rain, + Drearily: + "Regret, and hope despair hath slain." + (Wearily.) + + "Thou lov'st him still," they made reply, + Drearily. + I said, "That God would let me die!" + (Wearily.) + + + + +FINALE. + + + So let it be. Thou wilt not say 't was I! + Here in life's temple, where thy soul may see, + Look how the beauty of our love doth lie, + Shattered in shards, a dead divinity! + Approach: kneel down: yea, render up one sigh! + This is the end. What need to tell it thee! + So let it be. + + So let it be. Care, who hath stood with him, + And sorrow, who sat by him deified, + For whom his face made comfort, lo! how dim + They heap his altar which they can not hide, + While memory's lamp swings o'er it, burning slim. + This is the end. What shall be said beside? + So let it be. + + So let it be. Did we not drain the wine, + Red, of love's sacramental chalice, when + He laid sweet sanction on thy lips and mine? + Dash it aside! Lo, who will fill again + Now it is empty of the god divine! + This is the end. Yea, let us say Amen. + So let it be. + + + + +THE CROSS. + + + The cross I bear no man shall know-- + No man can ease the cross I bear!-- + Alas! the thorny path of woe + Up the steep hill of care! + + There is no word to comfort me; + No sign to help my bended head; + Deep night lies over land and sea, + And silence dark and dread. + + To strive, it seems, that I was born, + For that which others shall obtain; + The disappointment and the scorn + Alone for me remain. + + One half my life is overpast; + The other half I contemplate-- + Meseems the past doth but forecast + A darker future state. + + Sick to the heart of that which makes + Me hope and struggle and desire, + The aspiration here that aches + With ineffectual fire; + + While inwardly I know the lack, + The insufficiency of power, + Each past day's retrospect makes black + Each morrow's coming hour. + + Now in my youth would I could die!-- + As others love to live,--go down + Into the grave without a sigh, + Oblivious of renown! + + + + +THE FOREST OF DREAMS. + + +I. + + Where was I last Friday night?-- + Within the forest of dark dreams + Following the blur of a goblin-light, + That led me over ugly streams, + Whereon the scum of the spawn was spread, + And the blistered slime, in stagnant seams; + Where the weed and the moss swam black and dead, + Like a drowned girl's hair in the ropy ooze: + And the jack-o'-lantern light that led, + Flickered the fox-fire trees o'erhead, + And the owl-like things at airy cruise. + + +II. + + Where was I last Friday night?-- + Within the forest of dark dreams + Following a form of shadowy white + With my own wild face it seems. + Did a raven's wing just flap my hair? + Or a web-winged bat brush by my face? + Or the hand of--something I did not dare + Look round to see in that obscene place? + Where the boughs, with leaves a-devil's-dance, + And the thorn-tree bush, where the wind made moan, + Had more than a strange significance + Of life and of evil not their own. + + +III. + + Where was I last Friday night?-- + Within the forest of dark dreams + Seeing the mists rise left and right, + Like the leathery fog that heaves and steams + From the rolling horror of Hell's red streams. + While the wind, that tossed in the tattered tree, + And danced alone with the last mad leaf ... + Or was it the wind?... kept whispering me-- + "Now bury it here with its own black grief, + And its eyes of fire you can not brave!"-- + And in the darkness I seemed to see + My own self digging my soul a grave. + + + + +LYNCHERS. + + + At the moon's down-going, let it be + On the quarry bill with its one gnarled tree.... + + The red-rock road of the underbrush, + Where the woman came through the summer hush. + + The sumach high, and the elder thick, + Where we found the stone and the ragged stick. + + The trampled road of the thicket, full + Of foot-prints down to the quarry pool. + + The rocks that ooze with the hue of lead, + Where we found her lying stark and dead. + + The scraggy wood; the negro hut, + With its doors and windows locked and shut. + + A secret signal; a foot's rough tramp; + A knock at the door; a lifted lamp. + + An oath; a scuffle; a ring of masks; + A voice that answers a voice that asks. + + A group of shadows; the moon's red fleck; + A running noose and a man's bared neck. + + A word, a curse, and a shape that swings; + The lonely night and a bat's black wings.... + + At the moon's down-going, let it be + On the quarry hill with its one gnarled tree. + + + + +KU KLUX. + + + We have sent him seeds of the melon's core, + And nailed a warning upon his door; + By the Ku Klux laws we can do no more. + + Down in the hollow, 'mid crib and stack, + The roof of his low-porched house looms black; + Not a line of light at the doorsill's crack. + + Yet arm and mount! and mask and ride! + The hounds can sense though the fox may hide! + And for a word too much men oft have died. + + The clouds blow heavy towards the moon. + The edge of the storm will reach it soon. + The killdee cries and the lonesome loon. + + The clouds shall flush with a wilder glare + Than the lightning makes with its angled flare, + When the Ku Klux verdict is given there. + + In the pause of the thunder rolling low, + A rifle's answer--who shall know + From the wind's fierce burl and the rain's blackblow? + + Only the signature written grim + At the end of the message brought to him-- + A hempen rope and a twisted limb. + + So arm and mount! and mask and ride! + The hounds can sense though the fox may hide! + And for a word too much men oft have died. + + + + +REMBRANDTS. + + +I. + + I shall not soon forget her and her eyes, + The haunts of hate, where suffering seemed to write + Its own dark name, whose syllables are sighs, + In strange and starless night. + + I shall not soon forget her and her face, + So quiet, yet uneasy as a dream, + That stands on tip-toe in a haunted place + And listens for a scream. + + She made me feel as one, alone, may feel + In some grand ghostly house of olden time, + The presence of a treasure, walls conceal, + The secret of a crime. + + +II. + + With lambent faces, mimicking the moon, + The water lilies lie; + Dotting the darkness of the long lagoon + Like some black sky. + + A face, the whiteness of a water-flower, + And pollen-golden hair, + In shadow half, half in the moonbeams' glower, + Lifts slowly there. + + A young girl's face, death makes cold marble of, + Turned to the moon and me, + Sad with the pathos of unspeakable love, + Floating to sea. + + +III. + + One listening bent, in dread of something coming, + He can not see nor balk-- + A phantom footstep, in the ghostly gloaming, + That haunts a terraced walk. + + Long has he given his whole heart's hard endeavor + Unto the work begun, + Still hoping love would watch it grow and ever + Turn kindly eyes thereon. + + Now in his life he feels there nears an hour, + Inevitable, alas! + When in the darkness he shall cringe and cower, + And see his dead self pass. + + + + +THE LADY OF THE HILLS. + + + Though red my blood hath left its trail + For five far miles, I shall not fail, + As God in Heaven wills!-- + The way was long through that black land. + With sword on hip and horn in hand, + At last before thy walls I stand, + O Lady of the Hills! + + No seneschal shall put to scorn + The summons of my bugle-horn! + No man-at-arms shall stay!-- + Yea! God hath helped my strength too far + By bandit-caverned wood and scar + To give it pause now, or to bar + My all-avenging way. + + This hope still gives my body strength-- + To kiss her eyes and lips at length + Where all her kin can see; + Then 'mid her towers of crime and gloom, + Sin-haunted like the Halls of Doom, + To smite her dead in that wild room + Red-lit with revelry. + + Madly I rode; nor once did slack. + Before my face the world rolled, black + With nightmare wind and rain. + Witch-lights mocked at me on the fen; + And through the forest followed then + Gaunt eyes of wolves; and ghosts of men + Moaned by me on the plain. + + Still on I rode. My way was clear + From that wild time when, spear to spear, + Deep in the wind-torn wood, + I met him!... Dead he lies beneath + Their trysting oak. I clenched my teeth + And rode. My wound scarce let me breathe, + That filled my eyes with blood. + + And here I am. The blood may blind + My eyesight now ... yet I shall find + Her by some inner eye! + For God--He hath this deed in care!-- + Yea! I shall kiss again her hair, + And tell her of her leman there, + Then smite her dead--and die. + + + + +REVEALMENT. + + + At moonset when ghost speaks with ghost, + And spirits meet where once they sinned, + Between the bournes of found and lost, + My soul met her soul on the wind, + My late-lost Evalind. + + I kissed her mouth. Her face was wild. + Two burning shadows were her eyes, + Wherefrom the maiden love, that smiled + A heartbreak smile of severed ties, + Gazed with a wan surprise. + + Then suddenly I seemed to see + No more her shape where beauty bloomed ... + My own sad self gazed up at me-- + My sorrow, that had so assumed + The form of her entombed. + + + + +HEART'S ENCOURAGEMENT. + + + Nor time nor all his minions + Of sorrow or of pain, + Shall dash with vulture pinions + The cup she fills again + Within the dream-dominions + Of life where she doth reign. + + Clothed on with bright desire + And hope that makes her strong, + With limbs of frost and fire, + She sits above all wrong, + Her heart, a living lyre, + Her love, its only song. + + And in the waking pauses + Of weariness and care, + And when the dark hour draws his + Black weapon of despair, + Above effects and causes + We hear its music there. + + The longings life hath near it + Of love we yearn to see; + The dreams it doth inherit + Of immortality; + Are callings of her spirit + To something yet to be. + + + + +NIGHTFALL. + + + O day, so sicklied o'er with night! + O dreadful fruit of fallen dusk!-- + A Circe orange, golden-bright, + With horror 'neath its husk. + + And I, who gave the promise heed + That made life's tempting surface fair, + Have I not eaten to the seed + Its ashes of despair! + + O silence of the drifted grass! + And immemorial eloquence + Of stars and winds and waves that pass! + And God's indifference! + + Leave me alone with sleep that knows + Not any thing that life may keep-- + Not e'en the pulse that comes and goes + In germs that climb and creep. + + Or if an aspiration pale + Must quicken there--oh, let the spot + Grow weeds! that dost may so prevail, + Where spirit once could not! + + + + +PAUSE. + + + So sick of dreams! the dreams, that stain + The aisle, along which life must pass, + With hues of mystic colored glass, + That fills the windows of the brain. + + So sick of thoughts! the thoughts, that carve + The house of days with arabesques + And gargoyles, where the mind grotesques + In masks of hope and faith who starve. + + Here lay thy over weary head + Upon my bosom! Do not weep!-- + "He giveth His beloved sleep."-- + Heart of my heart, be comforted. + + + + +ABOVE THE VALES. + + + We went by ways of bygone days, + Up mountain heights of story, + Where lost in vague, historic haze, + Tradition, crowned with battle-bays, + Sat 'mid her ruins hoary. + + Where wing to wing the eagles cling + And torrents have their sources, + War rose with bugle voice to sing + Of wild spear thrust, and broadsword swing, + And rush of men and horses. + + Then deep below, where orchards show + A home here, here a steeple, + We heard a simple shepherd go, + Singing, beneath the afterglow, + A love-song of the people. + + As in the trees the song did cease, + With matron eyes and holy + Peace, from the cornlands of increase. + And rose-beds of love's victories, + Spake, smiling, of the lowly. + + + + +A SUNSET FANCY. + + + Wide in the west, a lake + Of flame that seems to shake + As if the Midgard snake + Deep down did breathe: + An isle of purple glow, + Where rosy rivers flow + Down peaks of cloudy snow + With fire beneath. + + And there the Tower-of-Night, + With windows all a-light, + Frowns on a burning height; + Wherein she sleeps,-- + Young through the years of doom,-- + Veiled with her hair's gold gloom, + The pale Valkyrie whom + Enchantment keeps. + + + + +THE FEN-FIRE. + + + The misty rain makes dim my face, + The night's black cloak is o'er me; + I tread the dripping cypress-place, + A flickering light before me. + + Out of the death of leaves that rot + And ooze and weedy water, + My form was breathed to haunt this spot, + Death's immaterial daughter. + + The owl that whoops upon the yew, + The snake that lairs within it, + Have seen my wild face flashing blue + For one fantastic minute. + + But should you follow where my eyes + Like some pale lamp decoy you, + Beware! lest suddenly I rise + With love that shall destroy you. + + + + +TO ONE READING THE MORTE D'ARTHURE. + + + O daughter of our Southern sun, + Sweet sister of each flower, + Dost dream in terraced Avalon + A shadow-haunted hour? + Or stand with Guinevere upon + Some ivied Camelot tower? + + Or in the wind dost breathe the musk + That blows Tintagel's sea on? + Or 'mid the lists by castled Usk + Hear some wild tourney's paeon? + Or 'neath the Merlin moons of dusk + Dost muse in old Caerleon? + + Or now of Launcelot, and then + Of Arthur, 'mid the roses, + Dost speak with wily Vivien? + Or where the shade reposes, + Dost walk with stately armored men + In marble-fountained closes? + + So speak the dreams within thy gaze. + The dreams thy spirit cages, + Would that Romance--which on thee lays + The spell of bygone ages-- + Held me! a memory of those days, + A portion of its pages! + + + + +STROLLERS. + + +I. + + We have no castles, + We have no vassals, + We have no riches, no gems and no gold; + Nothing to ponder, + Nothing to squander-- + Let us go wander + As minstrels of old. + + +II. + + You with your lute, love, + I with my flute, love, + Let us make music by mountain and sea; + You with your glances, + I with my dances, + Singing romances + Of old chivalry. + + +III. + + "Derry down derry! + Good folk, be merry! + Hither, and hearken where happiness is!-- + Never go borrow + Care of to-morrow, + Never go sorrow + While life hath a kiss." + + +IV. + + Let the day gladden + Or the night sadden, + We will be merry in sunshine or snow; + You with your rhyme, love, + I with my chime, love, + We will make time, love, + Dance as we go. + + +V. + + Nothing is ours, + Only the flowers, + Meadows, and stars, and the heavens above; + Nothing to lie for, + Nothing to sigh for, + Nothing to die for + While still we have love. + + +VI. + + "Derry down derry! + Good folk, be merry! + Hither, and hearken a word that is sooth:-- + Care ye not any, + If ye have many + Or not a penny, + If still ye have youth!" + + + + +HAUNTED. + + + When grave the twilight settles o'er my roof, + And from the haggard oaks unto my door + The rain comes, wild as one who rides before + His enemies that follow, hoof to hoof; + And in each window's gusty curtain-woof + The rain-wind sighs, like one who mutters o'er + Some tale of love and crime; and, on the floor, + The sunset spreads red stains as bloody proof; + From hall to hall and stealthy stair to stair, + Through all the house, a dread that drags me toward + The ancient dusk of that avoided room, + Wherein she sits with ghostly golden hair, + And eyes that gaze beyond her soul's sad doom, + Bending above an unreal harpsichord. + + + + +PRAETERITA. + + + Low belts of rushes ragged with the blast; + Lagoons of marish reddening with the west; + And o'er the marsh the water-fowl's unrest + While daylight dwindles and the dusk falls fast. + Set in sad walls, all mossy with the past, + An old stone gateway with a crumbling crest; + A garden where death drowses manifest; + And in gaunt yews the shadowy house at last. + Here, like some unseen spirit, silence talks + With echo and the wind in each gray room + Where melancholy slumbers with the rain: + Or, like some gentle ghost, the moonlight walks + In the dim garden, which her smile makes bloom + With all the old-time loveliness again. + + + + +THE SWASHBUCKLER. + + + Squat-nosed and broad, of big and pompous port; + A tavern visage, apoplexy haunts, + All pimple-puffed; the Falstaff-like resort + Of fat debauchery, whose veined cheek flaunts + A flabby purple: rusty-spurred he stands + In rakehell boots and belt, and hanger that + Claps when, with greasy gauntlets on his hands, + He swaggers past in cloak and slouch-plumed hat. + Aggression marches armies in his words; + And in his oaths great deeds ride cap-a-pie; + His looks, his gestures breathe the breath of swords; + And in his carriage camp all wars to be: + With him of battles there shall be no lack + While buxom wenches are and stoops of sack. + + + + +THE WITCH. + + + She gropes and hobbies, where the dropsied rocks + Are hairy with the lichens and the twist + Of knotted wolf's-bane, mumbling in the mist, + Hawk-nosed and wrinkle-eyed with scrawny locks. + At her bent back the sick-faced moonlight mocks, + Like some lewd evil whom the Fiend hath kissed; + Thrice at her feet the slipping serpent hissed, + And thrice the owl called to the forest fox.-- + What sabboth brew dost now intend? What root + Dost seek for, seal for what satanic spell + Of incantations and demoniac fire? + From thy rude hut, hill-huddled in the brier, + What dark familiar points thy sure pursuit, + With burning eyes, gaunt with the glow of Hell? + + + + +THE SOMNAMBULIST. + + + Oaks and a water. By the water--eyes, + Ice-green and steadfast as cold stars; and hair + Yellow as eyes deep in a she-wolf's lair; + And limbs, like darkness that the lightning dyes. + The humped oaks stand black under iron skies; + The dry wind whirls the dead leaves everywhere; + Wild on the water falls a vulture glare + Of moon, and wild the circling raven flies. + Again the power of this thing hath laid + Illusion on him: and he seems to hear + A sweet voice calling him beyond his gates + To longed-for love; he comes; each forest glade + Seems reaching out white arms to draw him near-- + Nearer and nearer to the death that waits. + + + + +OPIUM. + +_On reading De Quincey's "Confessions of an Opium Eater."_ + + + I seemed to stand before a temple walled + From shadows and night's unrealities; + Filled with dark music of dead memories, + And voices, lost in darkness, aye that called. + I entered. And, beneath the dome's high-halled + Immensity, one forced me to my knees + Before a blackness--throned 'mid semblances + And spectres--crowned with flames of emerald. + Then, lo! two shapes that thundered at mine ears + The names of Horror and Oblivion, + Priests of this god,--and bade me die and dream. + Then, in the heart of hell, a thousand years + Meseemed I lay--dead; while the iron stream + Of Time beat out the seconds, one by one. + + + + +MUSIC AND SLEEP. + + + These have a life that hath no part in death; + These circumscribe the soul and make it strong; + Between the breathing of a dream and song, + Building a world of beauty in a breath. + Unto the heart the voice of this one saith + Ideals, its emotions live among; + Unto the mind the other speaks a tongue + Of visions, where the guess, we christen faith, + May face the fact of immortality-- + As may a rose its unembodied scent, + Or star its own reflected radiance. + We do not know these save unconsciously. + To whose mysterious shadows God hath lent + No certain shape, no certain countenance. + + + + +AMBITION. + + + Now to my lips lift then some opiate + Of black forgetfulness! while in thy gaze + Still lures the loveless beauty that betrays, + And in thy mouth the music that is hate. + No promise more hast thou to make me wait; + No smile to cozen my sick heart with praise! + Far, far behind thee stretch laborious days, + And far before thee, labors soon and late. + Thine is the fen-fire that we deem a star, + Flying before us, ever fugitive, + Thy mocking policy still holds afar: + And thine the voice, to which our longings give + Hope's siren face, that speaks us sweet and fair, + Only to lead us captives to Despair. + + + + +DESPONDENCY. + + + Not all the bravery that day puts on + Of gold and azure, ardent or austere, + Shall ease my soul of sorrow; grown more dear + Than all the joy that heavenly hope may don. + Far up the skies the rumor of the dawn + May run, and eve like some wild torch appear; + These shall not change the darkness, gathered here, + Of thought, that rusts like an old sword undrawn. + Oh, for a place deep-sunken from the sun! + A wildwood cave of primitive rocks and moss! + Where Sleep and Silence--breast to married breast-- + Lie with their child, night-eyed Oblivion; + Where, freed from all the trouble of my cross, + I might forget, I might forget, and rest! + + + + +DESPAIR. + + + Shut in with phantoms of life's hollow hopes, + And shadows of old sins satiety slew, + And the young ghosts of the dead dreams love knew, + Out of the day into the night she gropes. + Behind her, high the silvered summit slopes + Of strength and faith, she will not turn to view; + But towards the cave of weakness, harsh of hue, + She goes, where all the dropsied horror ropes. + There is a voice of waters in her ears, + And on her brow a wind that never dies: + One is the anguish of desired tears; + One is the sorrow of unuttered sighs; + And, burdened with the immemorial years, + Downward she goes with never lifted eyes. + + + + +SIN. + + + There is a legend of an old Hartz tower + That tells of one, a noble, who had sold + His soul unto the Fiend; who grew not old + On this condition: That the demon's power + Cease every midnight for a single hour, + And in that hour his body should be cold, + His limbs grow shriveled, and his face, behold! + Become a death's-head in the taper's glower.-- + So unto Sin Life gives his best. Her arts + Make all his outward seeming beautiful + Before the world; but in his heart of hearts + Abides an hour when her strength is null; + When he shall feel the death through all his parts + Strike, and his countenance become a skull. + + + + +INSOMNIA. + + + It seems that dawn will never climb + The eastern hills; + And, clad in mist and flame and rime, + Make flashing highways of the rills. + + The night is as an ancient way + Through some dead land, + Whereon the ghosts of Memory + And Sorrow wander hand in hand. + + By which man's works ignoble seem, + Unbeautiful; + And grandeur, but the ruined dream + Of some proud queen, crowned with a skull. + + A way past-peopled, dark and old, + That stretches far-- + Its only real thing, the cold + Vague light of sleep's one fitful star. + + + + +ENCOURAGEMENT. + + + To help our tired hope to toil, + Lo! have we not the council here + Of trees, that to all hope appear + As sermons of the soil? + + To help our flagging faith to rise, + Lo! have we not the high advice + Of stars, that for all faith suffice + As gospels of the skies? + + Sustain us, Lord! and help us climb, + With hope and faith made strong and great, + The rock-rough pathway of our fate, + The care-dark way of time! + + + + +QUATRAINS. + + +PENURY. + + Above his misered embers, gnarled and gray, + With toil-twitched limbs he bends; around his hut, + Want, like a hobbling hag, goes night and day, + Scolding at windows and at doors tight-shut. + + +STRATEGY. + + Craft's silent sister and the daughter deep + Of Contemplation, she, who spreads below + A hostile tent soft comfort for her foe, + With eyes of Jael watching till he sleep. + + +TEMPEST. + + With helms of lightning, glittering in the skies, + On steeds of thunder, cloudy form on form, + Terrific beauty in their hair and eyes, + Behold the wild Valkyries of the storm. + + +THE LOCUST BLOSSOM. + + The spirit Spring, in rainy raiment, met + The spirit Summer for a moonlit hour: + Sweet from their greeting kisses, warm and wet, + Earth shaped the fragrant purity of this flower. + + +MELANCHOLY. + + With shadowy immortelles of memory + About her brow, she sits with eyes that look + Upon the stream of Lethe wearily, + In hesitant hands Death's partly-opened book. + + +CONTENT. + + Among the meadows of Life's sad unease-- + In labor still renewing her soul's youth-- + With trust, for patience, and with love, for peace, + Singing she goes with the calm face of Ruth. + + +LIFE AND DEATH. + + Of our own selves God makes a glass, wherein + Two shadows image them as might a breath: + And one is Life, whose other name is Sin; + And one is Love, whose other name is Death. + + +SORROW. + + Death takes her hand and leads her through the waste + Of her own soul, wherein she hears the voice + Of lost Love's tears, and, famishing, can but taste + The dead-sea fruit of Life's remembered joys. + + + + +A LAST WORD. + + + Not for thyself, but for the sake of Song, + Strive to succeed as others have, who gave + Their lives unto her; shaping sure and strong + Her lovely limbs that made them god and slave. + + Not for thyself, but for the sake of Art, + Strive to advance beyond the others' best; + Winning a deeper secret from her heart + To hang it moonlike 'mid the starry rest. + + + + +_For permission to reprint a number of the poems included in this +volume, thanks are due to The Chap-Book, Cosmopolitan, Lippincott's, +Century, New England, Atlantic, and Harper's._ + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Garden of Dreams, by Madison J. 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