diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:20:46 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:20:46 -0700 |
| commit | a81e92135a3fa27ad744d474f0ce8a5d21439f10 (patch) | |
| tree | b67a0c73fb217bcee0138cdd5b4627a36e536855 /3238-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '3238-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 3238-h/3238-h.htm | 4040 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3238-h/images/coverb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 139732 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3238-h/images/covers.jpg | bin | 0 -> 36605 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3238-h/images/tpb.jpg | bin | 0 -> 117540 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3238-h/images/tps.jpg | bin | 0 -> 12164 bytes |
5 files changed, 4040 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/3238-h/3238-h.htm b/3238-h/3238-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5712d17 --- /dev/null +++ b/3238-h/3238-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,4040 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Poems of Cheer, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Poems of Cheer, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Poems of Cheer + + +Author: Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + + +Release Date: July 13, 2014 [eBook #3238] +[This file was first posted on February 5, 2001] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF CHEER*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1914 Gay and Hancock edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" +src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h1>POEMS OF CHEER</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Decorative graphic" +title= +"Decorative graphic" +src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">GAY AND HANCOCK, LTD.<br /> +12 and 13, HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN<br /> +LONDON<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1914</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. v</span><span +class="smcap">This</span> Volume contains the poems published +under the title “Poems of Life,” with the exception +of about half a dozen, which appear in my other volumes. I +have also added a few new verses.</p> +<p>Any edition of my Poems published in Great Britain by any firm +except Messrs. Gay and Hancock is pirated and not authentic.</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Ella Wheeler +Wilcox</span>.</p> +<p><i>April</i> 12<i>th</i>, 1910.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p class="poetry"><a name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vi</span><i>I step across the mystic border-land</i>,<br /> +<i>And look upon the wonder-world of Art</i>.<br /> +<i>How beautiful</i>, <i>how beautiful its hills</i>!<br /> +<i>And all its valleys</i>, <i>how surpassing fair</i>!</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>The winding paths that lead up to the +heights</i><br /> +<i>Are polished by the footsteps of the great</i>.<br /> +<i>The mountain-peaks stand very near to God</i>:<br /> +<i>The chosen few whose feet have trod thereon</i><br /> +<i>Have talked with Him</i>, <i>and with the angels +walked</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry"><i>Here are no sounds of discord—no +profane</i><br /> +<i>Or senseless gossip of unworthy things—</i><br /> +<i>Only the songs of chisels and of pens</i>,<br /> +<i>Of busy brushes</i>, <i>and ecstatic strains</i><br /> +<i>Of souls surcharged with music most divine</i>.<br /> +<i>Here is no idle sorrow</i>, <i>no poor grief</i><br /> +<i>For any day or object left behind—</i><br /> +<i>For time is counted precious</i>, <i>and herein</i><br /> +<i>Is such complete abandonment of Self</i><br /> +<i>That tears turn into rainbows</i>, <i>and enhance</i><br /> +<i>The beauty of the land where all is fair</i>.<br /> +<i>Awed and afraid</i>, <i>I cross the border-land</i>.<br /> +<i>Oh</i>, <i>who am I</i>, <i>that I dare enter here</i><br /> +<i>Where the great artists of the world have trod—</i><br +/> +<i>The genius-crowned aristocrats of Earth</i>?<br /> +<i>Only the singer of a little song</i>;<br /> +<i>Yet loving Art with such a mighty love</i><br /> +<i>I hold it greater to have won a place</i><br /> +<i>Just on the fair land’s edge</i>, <i>to make my +grave</i>,<br /> +<i>Than in the outer world of greed and gain</i><br /> +<i>To sit upon a royal throne and reign</i>.</p> +<h2><a name="pagevii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vii</span>CONTENTS</h2> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"> </p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="GutSmall">PAGE</span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Worth while</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page1">1</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The House of +Life</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page3">3</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">A Song of +Life</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page6">6</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Prayer</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page8">8</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In the Long +Run</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page10">10</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">As you go through +Life</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page12">12</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Two Sunsets</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page14">14</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Unrest</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page18">18</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Artist’s +life</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page20">20</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Nothing but +Stones</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page22">22</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Inevitable</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page24">24</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The Ocean of +Song</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page26">26</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><a name="pageviii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. viii</span>“<span class="smcap">It might +have been</span>”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page29">29</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Momus, God of +Laughter</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page30">30</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">I Dream</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page32">32</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The Sonnet</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page34">34</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The Past</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page35">35</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">A Dream</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page36">36</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Uselessness</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page37">37</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Will</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page38">38</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Winter Rain</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page39">39</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Life</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page40">40</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Burdened</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page41">41</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Let them go</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page42">42</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Five Kisses</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page44">44</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Retrospection</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page48">48</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Helena</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page50">50</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Nothing +Remains</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page52">52</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Comrades</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page54">54</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What Gain</span>?</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page56">56</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><a name="pageix"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. ix</span><span class="smcap">To the +West</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page58">58</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The Land of +Content</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page60">60</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Warning</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page62">62</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">After the Battles are +over</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page63">63</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">And they are +dumb</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page71">71</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Night</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page73">73</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">All for me</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page75">75</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Into Space</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page77">77</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Through Dim +Eyes</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page79">79</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The Punished</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page81">81</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Half Fledged</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page82">82</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The Year</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page84">84</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">The +Unattained</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page85">85</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">In the crowd</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page87">87</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Life and I</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page89">89</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Guerdon</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page91">91</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Snowed Under</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page92">92</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry">“<span +class="smcap">Leudemanns-on-the-river</span>”</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page94">94</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><a name="pagex"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. x</span><span class="smcap">Little Blue +Hood</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page97">97</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">No Spring</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page99">99</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Midsummer</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page101">101</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">A +Reminiscence</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page103">103</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">A Girl’s +Faith</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page105">105</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Two</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page107">107</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Slipping +Away</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page109">109</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Is it done</span>?</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page111">111</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">A Leaf</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page113">113</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span +class="smcap">Æsthetic</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page115">115</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Poems of the +Week</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page117">117</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Ghosts</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page120">120</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Fleeing away</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page122">122</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">All mad</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page124">124</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Hidden Gems</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page126">126</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">By-and-bye</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page127">127</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Over the May +Hill</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page129">129</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Foes</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page131">131</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><a name="pagexi"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. xi</span><span +class="smcap">Friendship</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page133">133</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Two sat down</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page135">135</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Bound and +free</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page137">137</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Aquileia</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page139">139</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Wishes for a little +girl</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page142">142</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Romney</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page144">144</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">My Home</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page146">146</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">To marry or not to +marry</span>?</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page148">148</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">An Afternoon</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page150">150</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">River and +Sea</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page152">152</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">What +happens</span>?</p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page153">153</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p class="poetry"><span class="smcap">Possession</span></p> +</td> +<td><p style="text-align: right" class="poetry"><span +class="indexpageno"><a href="#page154">154</a></span></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 1</span>WORTH +WHILE</h2> +<p class="poetry">It is easy enough to be pleasant<br /> + When life flows by like a song,<br /> +But the man worth while is the one who will smile<br /> + When everything goes dead wrong.<br /> +For the test of the heart is trouble,<br /> + And it always comes with the years,<br /> +And the smile that is worth the praises of earth<br /> + Is the smile that shines through tears.</p> +<p class="poetry">It is easy enough to be prudent<br /> + When nothing tempts you to stray,<br /> +When without or within no voice of sin<br /> + Is luring your soul away;<br /> +But it’s only a negative virtue<br /> + Until it is tried by fire,<br /> +And the life that is worth the honour on earth<br /> + Is the one that resists desire.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +2</span>By the cynic, the sad, the fallen,<br /> + Who had no strength for the strife,<br /> +The world’s highway is cumbered to-day—<br /> + They make up the sum of life;<br /> +But the virtue that conquers passion,<br /> + And the sorrow that hides in a smile—<br /> +It is these that are worth the homage on earth,<br /> + For we find them but once in a while.</p> +<h2><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>THE +HOUSE OF LIFE</h2> +<p class="poetry">All wondering, and eager-eyed, within her +portico<br /> +I made my plea to Hostess Life, one morning long ago.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Pray show me this great house of thine, +nor close a single door;<br /> +But let me wander where I will, and climb from floor to +floor!</p> +<p class="poetry">For many rooms, and curious things, and +treasures great and small<br /> +Within your spacious mansion lie, and I would see them +all.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Then Hostess Life turned silently, her +searching gaze on me,<br /> +And with no word, she reached her hand, and offered up the +key.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +4</span>It opened first the door of Hope, and long I lingered +there,<br /> +Until I spied the room of Dreams, just higher by a stair.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then a door whereon the one word +“Happiness” was writ;<br /> +But when I tried the little key I could not make it fit.</p> +<p class="poetry">It turned the lock of Pleasure’s room, +where first all seemed so bright—<br /> +But after I had stayed awhile it somehow lost its light.</p> +<p class="poetry">And wandering down a lonely hall, I came upon a +room<br /> +Marked “Duty,” and I entered it—to lose myself +in gloom.</p> +<p class="poetry">Along the shadowy halls I groped my weary way +about,<br /> +And found that from dull Duty’s room, a door of Toil led +out.</p> +<p class="poetry">It led out to another door, whereon a crimson +stain<br /> +Made sullenly against the dark these words: “The Room of +Pain.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>But oh the light, the light, the light, that spilled down +from above<br /> +And upward wound, the stairs of Faith, right to the Tower of +Love!</p> +<p class="poetry">And when I came forth from that place, I tried +the little key—<br /> +And lo! the door of Happiness swung open, wide and free.</p> +<h2><a name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>A SONG +OF LIFE</h2> +<p class="poetry">In the rapture of life and of living,<br /> + I lift up my heart and rejoice,<br /> +And I thank the great Giver for giving<br /> + The soul of my gladness a voice.<br /> +In the glow of the glorious weather,<br /> + In the sweet-scented, sensuous air,<br /> +My burdens seem light as a feather—<br /> + They are nothing to bear.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the strength and the glory of power,<br /> + In the pride and the pleasure of wealth<br /> +(For who dares dispute me my dower<br /> + Of talents and youth-time and health?),<br /> +I can laugh at the world and its sages—<br /> + I am greater than seers who are sad,<br /> +For he is most wise in all ages<br /> + Who knows how to be glad.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +7</span>I lift up my eyes to Apollo,<br /> + The god of the beautiful days,<br /> +And my spirit soars off like a swallow,<br /> + And is lost in the light of its rays.<br /> +Are you troubled and sad? I beseech you<br /> + Come out of the shadows of strife—<br /> +Come out in the sun while I teach you<br /> + The secret of life.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come out of the world—come above +it—<br /> + Up over its crosses and graves,<br /> +Though the green earth is fair and I love it,<br /> + We must love it as masters, not slaves.<br /> +Come up where the dust never rises—<br /> + But only the perfume of flowers—<br /> +And your life shall be glad with surprises<br /> + Of beautiful hours.<br /> +Come up where the rare golden wine is<br /> + Apollo distills in my sight,<br /> +And your life shall be happy as mine is,<br /> + And as full of delight.</p> +<h2><a name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +8</span>PRAYER</h2> +<p class="poetry">I do not undertake to say<br /> + That literal answers come from Heaven,<br /> +But I know this—that when I pray<br /> + A comfort, a support is given<br /> +That helps me rise o’er earthly things<br /> +As larks soar up on airy wings.</p> +<p class="poetry">In vain the wise philosopher<br /> + Points out to me my fabric’s flaws,<br /> +In vain the scientists aver<br /> + That “all things are controlled by +laws.”<br /> +My life has taught me day by day<br /> +That it availeth much to pray.</p> +<p class="poetry">I do not stop to reason out<br /> + The why and how. I do not care,<br /> +Since I know this, that when I doubt,<br /> + Life seems a blackness of despair,<br /> +The world a tomb; and when I trust,<br /> +Sweet blossoms spring up in the dust.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +9</span>Since I know in the darkest hour,<br /> + If I lift up my soul in prayer,<br /> +Some sympathetic, loving Power<br /> + Sends hope and comfort to me there.<br /> +Since balm is sent to ease my pain,<br /> +What need to argue or explain?</p> +<p class="poetry">Prayer has a sweet, refining grace,<br /> + It educates the soul and heart.<br /> +It lends a lustre to the face,<br /> + And by its elevating art<br /> +It gives the mind an inner sight<br /> +That brings it near the Infinite.</p> +<p class="poetry">From our gross selves it helps us rise<br /> + To something which we yet may be.<br /> +And so I ask not to be wise,<br /> + If thus my faith is lost to me.<br /> +Faith, that with angel’s voice and touch<br /> +Says, “Pray, for prayer availeth much.”</p> +<h2><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>IN THE +LONG RUN</h2> +<p class="poetry">In the long run fame finds the deserving +man.<br /> + The lucky wight may prosper for a day,<br /> +But in good time true merit leads the van<br /> + And vain pretence, unnoticed, goes its way.<br /> +There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate,<br /> +But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait,<br /> + In the long run.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the long run all godly sorrow pays,<br /> + There is no better thing than righteous pain,<br /> +The sleepless nights, the awful thorn-crowned days,<br /> + Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain.<br /> +Unmeaning joys enervate in the end,<br /> +But sorrow yields a glorious dividend<br /> + In the long run.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +11</span>In the long run all hidden things are known,<br /> + The eye of truth will penetrate the night,<br /> +And good or ill, thy secret shall be known,<br /> + However well ’tis guarded from the light.<br +/> +All the unspoken motives of the breast<br /> +Are fathomed by the years and stand confess’d<br /> + In the long run.</p> +<p class="poetry">In the long run all love is paid by love,<br /> + Though undervalued by the hosts of earth;<br /> +The great eternal Government above<br /> + Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth.<br +/> +Give thy love freely; do not count the cost;<br /> +So beautiful a thing was never lost<br /> + In the long run.</p> +<h2><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 12</span>AS YOU +GO THROUGH LIFE</h2> +<p class="poetry">Don’t look for the flaws as you go +through life;<br /> + And even when you find them,<br /> +It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind,<br /> + And look for the virtue behind them;<br /> +For the cloudiest night has a hint of light<br /> + Somewhere in its shadows hiding;<br /> +It’s better by far to hunt for a star,<br /> + Than the spots on the sun abiding.</p> +<p class="poetry">The current of life runs ever away<br /> + To the bosom of God’s great ocean.<br /> +Don’t set your force ’gainst the river’s +course,<br /> + And think to alter its motion.<br /> +Don’t waste a curse on the universe,<br /> + Remember, it lived before you;<br /> +Don’t butt at the storm with your puny form,<br /> + But bend and let it go o’er you.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span>The world will never adjust itself<br /> + To suit your whims to the letter,<br /> +Some things must go wrong your whole life long,<br /> + And the sooner you know it the better.<br /> +It is folly to fight with the Infinite,<br /> + And go under at last in the wrestle.<br /> +The wiser man shapes into God’s plan,<br /> + As water shapes into a vessel.</p> +<h2><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>TWO +SUNSETS</h2> +<p class="poetry">In the fair morning of his life,<br /> + When his pure heart lay in his breast,<br /> + Panting, with all that wild unrest<br /> +To plunge into the great world’s strife</p> +<p class="poetry">That fills young hearts with mad desire,<br /> + He saw a sunset. Red and gold<br /> + The burning billows surged and rolled,<br /> +And upward tossed their caps of fire.</p> +<p class="poetry">He looked. And as he looked, the sight<br +/> + Sent from his soul through breast and brain<br /> + Such intense joy, it hurt like pain.<br /> +His heart seemed bursting with delight.</p> +<p class="poetry">So near the Unknown seemed, so close<br /> + He might have grasped it with his hands<br /> + He felt his inmost soul expand,<br /> +As sunlight will expand a rose</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +15</span>One day he heard a singing strain—<br /> + A human voice, in bird-like trills.<br /> + He paused, and little rapture-rills<br /> +Went trickling downward through each vein.</p> +<p class="poetry">And in his heart the whole day long,<br /> + As in a temple veiled and dim,<br /> + He kept and bore about with him<br /> +The beauty of that singer’s song.</p> +<p class="poetry">And then? But why relate what then?<br /> + His smouldering heart flamed into fire—<br /> + He had his one supreme desire,<br /> +And plunged into the world of men.</p> +<p class="poetry">For years queen Folly held her sway.<br /> + With pleasures of the grosser kind<br /> + She fed his flesh and drugged his mind,<br /> +Till, shamed, he sated, turned away.</p> +<p class="poetry">He sought his boyhood’s home.<br /> + That hour Triumphant should have been, in sooth,<br +/> + Since he went forth, an unknown youth,<br /> +And came back crowned with wealth and power.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>The clouds made day a gorgeous bed;<br /> + He saw the splendour of the sky<br /> + With unmoved heart and stolid eye;<br /> +He only knew the West was red.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then suddenly a fresh young voice<br /> + Rose, bird-like, from some hidden place,<br /> + He did not even turn his face—<br /> +It struck him simply as a noise.</p> +<p class="poetry">He trod the old paths up and down.<br /> + Their rich-hued leaves by Fall winds +whirled—<br /> + How dull they were—how dull the +world—<br /> +Dull even in the pulsing town.</p> +<p class="poetry">O! worst of punishments, that brings<br /> + A blunting of all finer sense,<br /> + A loss of feelings keen, intense,<br /> +And dulls us to the higher things.</p> +<p class="poetry">O! penalty most dire, most sure,<br /> + Swift following after gross delights,<br /> + That we no more see beauteous sights,<br /> +Or hear as hear the good and pure.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>O! shape more hideous and more dread<br /> + Than Vengeance takes in creed-taught minds,<br /> + This certain doom that blunts and blinds,<br /> +And strikes the holiest feelings dead.</p> +<h2><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>UNREST</h2> +<p class="poetry">In the youth of the year, when the birds were +building,<br /> + When the green was showing on tree and hedge,<br /> +And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding<br /> + The world from zenith to outermost edge,<br /> +My soul grew sad and longingly lonely!<br /> + I sighed for the season of sun and rose,<br /> +And I said, “In the Summer and that time only<br /> + Lies sweet contentment and blest repose.”</p> +<p class="poetry">With bee and bird for her maids of honour<br /> + Came Princess Summer in robes of green.<br /> +And the King of day smiled down upon her<br /> + And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen.<br +/> +Fruit of their union and true love’s pledges,<br /> + Beautiful roses bloomed day by day,<br /> +And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges<br /> + Like royal children in sportive play.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +19</span>My restless soul for a little season<br /> + Revelled in rapture of glow and bloom,<br /> +And then, like a subject who harbours treason,<br /> + Grew full of rebellion and grey with gloom.<br /> +And I said, “I am sick of the summer’s blisses,<br /> + Of warmth and beauty, and nothing more.<br /> +The full fruition my sad soul misses<br /> + That beauteous Fall-time holds in store!”</p> +<p class="poetry">But now when the colours are almost +blinding,<br /> + Burning and blending on bush and tree,<br /> +And the rarest fruits are mine for the finding,<br /> + And the year is ripe as a year can be,<br /> +My soul complains in the same old fashion;<br /> + Crying aloud in my troubled breast<br /> +Is the same old longing, the same old passion.<br /> + O where is the treasure which men call rest?</p> +<h2><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +20</span>“ARTIST’S LIFE”</h2> +<p class="poetry">Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote,<br +/> + Mad with melody, rhythm—rife<br /> +From the very first to the final note.<br /> + Give me his “Artist’s Life!”</p> +<p class="poetry">It stirs my blood to my finger-ends,<br /> + Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest,<br /> +And all that is sweetest and saddest blends<br /> + Together within my breast.</p> +<p class="poetry">It brings back that night in the dim arcade,<br +/> + In love’s sweet morning and life’s best +prime,<br /> +When the great brass orchestra played and played,<br /> + And set our thoughts to rhyme.</p> +<p class="poetry">It brings back that Winter of mad delights,<br +/> + Of leaping pulses and tripping feet,<br /> +And those languid moon-washed Summer nights<br /> + When we heard the band in the street.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span>It brings back rapture and glee and glow,<br /> + It brings back passion and pain and strife,<br /> +And so of all the waltzes I know,<br /> + Give me the “Artist’s Life.”</p> +<p class="poetry">For it is so full of the dear old +time—<br /> + So full of the dear old friends I knew.<br /> +And under its rhythm, and lilt, and rhyme,<br /> + I am always finding—<i>you</i>.</p> +<h2><a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +22</span>NOTHING BUT STONES</h2> +<p class="poetry">I think I never passed so sad an hour,<br /> + Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night.<br +/> +The edifice from basement to the tower<br /> + Was one resplendent blaze of coloured light.<br /> +Up through broad aisles the stylish crowd was thronging,<br /> + Each richly robed like some king’s bidden +guest.<br /> +“Here will I bring my sorrow and my longing,”<br /> + I said, “and here find rest.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I heard the heavenly organ’s voice of +thunder,<br /> + It seemed to give me infinite relief.<br /> +I wept. Strange eyes looked on in well-bred wonder.<br /> + I dried my tears: their gaze profaned my grief.<br +/> +Wrapt in the costly furs, and silks, and laces,<br /> + Beat alien hearts, that had no part with me.<br /> +I could not read, in all those proud cold faces,<br /> + One thought of sympathy.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>I watched them bowing and devoutly kneeling,<br /> + Heard their responses like sweet waters roll<br /> +But only the glorious organ’s sacred pealing<br /> + Seemed gushing from a full and fervent soul.<br /> +I listened to the man of holy calling,<br /> + He spoke of creeds, and hailed his own as best;<br +/> +Of man’s corruption and of Adam’s-falling,<br /> + But naught that gave me rest:</p> +<p class="poetry">Nothing that helped me bear the daily +grinding<br /> + Of soul with body, heart with heated brain;<br /> +Nothing to show the purpose of this blinding<br /> + And sometimes overwhelming sense of pain.<br /> +And then, dear friend, I thought of thee, so lowly,<br /> + So unassuming, and so gently kind,<br /> +And lo! a peace, a calm serene and holy,<br /> + Settled upon my mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">Ah, friend, my friend! one true heart, fond and +tender,<br /> + That understands our troubles and our needs,<br /> +Brings us more near to God than all the splendour<br /> + And pomp of seeming worship and vain creeds.<br /> +One glance of thy dear eyes so full of feeling,<br /> + Doth bring me closer to the Infinite<br /> +Than all that throng of worldly people kneeling<br /> + In blaze of gorgeous light.</p> +<h2><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +24</span>INEVITABLE</h2> +<p class="poetry">To-day I was so weary and I lay<br /> + In that delicious state of semi-waking,<br /> +When baby, sitting with his nurse at play,<br /> + Cried loud for “mamma,” all his toys +forsaking.</p> +<p class="poetry">I was so weary and I needed rest,<br /> + And signed to nurse to bear him from the room.<br /> +Then, sudden, rose and caught him to my breast,<br /> + And kissed the grieving mouth and cheeks of +bloom.</p> +<p class="poetry">For swift as lightning came the thought to +me,<br /> + With pulsing heart-throes and a mist of tears,<br /> +Of days inevitable, that are to be,<br /> + If my fair darling grows to manhood’s +years;</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>Days when he will not call for “mamma,” +when<br /> + The world, with many a pleasure and bright joy,<br +/> +Shall tempt him forth into the haunts of men<br /> + And I shall lose the first place with my boy;</p> +<p class="poetry">When other homes and loves shall give +delight,<br /> + When younger smiles and voices will seem best.<br /> +And so I held him to my heart to-night,<br /> + Forgetting all my need of peace and rest.</p> +<h2><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>THE +OCEAN OF SONG</h2> +<p class="poetry">In a land beyond sight or conceiving,<br /> + In a land where no blight is, no wrong,<br /> +No darkness, no graves, and no grieving,<br /> + There lies the great ocean of song.<br /> +And its waves, oh, its waves unbeholden<br /> + By any save gods, and their kind,<br /> +Are not blue, are not green, but are golden,<br /> + Like moonlight and sunlight combined.</p> +<p class="poetry">It was whispered to me that their waters<br /> + Were made from the gathered-up tears<br /> +That were wept by the sons and the daughters<br /> + Of long-vanished eras and spheres.<br /> +Like white sands of heaven the spray is<br /> + That falls all the happy day long,<br /> +And whoever it touches straightway is<br /> + Made glad with the spirit of song.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +27</span>Up, up to the clouds where their hoary<br /> + Crowned heads melt away in the skies,<br /> +The beautiful mountains of glory<br /> + Each side of the song-ocean rise.<br /> +Here day is one splendour of sky-light—<br /> + Of God’s light with beauty replete.<br /> +Here night is not night, but is twilight,<br /> + Pervading, enfolding, and sweet.</p> +<p class="poetry">Bright birds from all climes and all +regions,<br /> + That sing the whole glad summer long,<br /> +Are dumb, till they flock here in legions<br /> + And lave in the ocean of song.<br /> +It is here that the four winds of heaven,<br /> + The winds that do sing and rejoice,<br /> +It is here they first came and were given<br /> + The secret of sound and a voice.</p> +<p class="poetry">Far down along beautiful beeches,<br /> + By night and by glorious day,<br /> +The throng of the gifted ones reaches,<br /> + Their foreheads made white with the spray,<br /> +And a few of the sons and the daughters<br /> + Of this kingdom, cloud-hidden from sight,<br /> +Go down in the wonderful waters,<br /> + And bathe in those billows of light.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +28</span>And their souls evermore are like fountains,<br /> + And liquid and lucent and strong,<br /> +High over the tops of the mountains<br /> + Gush up the sweet billows of song.<br /> +No drouth-time of waters can dry them.<br /> + Whoever has bathed in that sea,<br /> +All dangers, all deaths, they defy them,<br /> + And are gladder than gods are, with glee.</p> +<h2><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>“IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN”</h2> +<p class="poetry">We will be what we could be. Do not +say,<br /> + “It might have been, had not or that, or +this.”<br /> +No fate can keep us from the chosen way;<br /> + He only might, who <i>is</i>.</p> +<p class="poetry">We will do what we could do. Do not +dream<br /> + Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve.<br /> +I hold, all men are greatly what they seem;<br /> + He does, who could achieve.</p> +<p class="poetry">We will climb where we could climb. Tell +me not<br /> + Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height.<br +/> +What eagle ever missed the peak he sought?<br /> + He always climbs who might.</p> +<p class="poetry">I do not like the phrase, “It might have +been!”<br /> + It lacks all force, and life’s best truths +perverts<br /> +For I believe we have, and reach, and win,<br /> + Whatever our deserts.</p> +<h2><a name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>MOMUS, +GOD OF LAUGHTER</h2> +<p class="poetry">Though with gods the world is cumbered,<br /> +Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,<br /> +Never god was known to be<br /> +Who had not his devotee.<br /> +So I dedicate to mine,<br /> +Here in verse, my temple-shrine.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis not Ares,—mighty Mars,<br /> +Who can give success in wars.<br /> +’Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep<br /> +Guard above us while we sleep,<br /> +’Tis not Venus, she whose duty<br /> +’Tis to give us love and beauty;<br /> +Hail to these, and others, after<br /> +Momus, gleesome god of laughter.</p> +<p class="poetry">Quirinus would guard my health,<br /> +Plutus would insure me wealth;<br /> +Mercury looks after trade,<br /> +Hera smiles on youth and maid.<br /> +All are kind, I own their worth,<br /> +After Momus, god of mirth.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +31</span>Though Apollo, out of spite,<br /> +Hides away his face of light,<br /> +Though Minerva looks askance,<br /> +Deigning me no smiling glance,<br /> +Kings and queens may envy me<br /> +While I claim the god of glee.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wisdom wearies, Love has wings—<br /> +Wealth makes burdens, Pleasure stings,<br /> +Glory proves a thorny crown—<br /> +So all gifts the gods throw down<br /> +Bring their pains and troubles after;<br /> +All save Momus, god of laughter.<br /> +He alone gives constant joy.<br /> +Hail to Momus, happy boy.</p> +<h2><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>I +DREAM</h2> +<p class="poetry">Oh, I have dreams. I sometimes dream of +Life<br /> + In the full meaning of that splendid word.<br /> + Its subtle music which few men have heard,<br /> +Though all may hear it, sounding through earth’s strife.<br +/> +Its mountain heights by mystic breezes kissed<br /> + Lifting their lovely peaks above the dust;<br /> + Its treasures which no touch of time can rust,<br /> +Its emerald seas, its dawns of amethyst,<br /> + Its certain purpose, its serene repose,<br /> + Its usefulness, that finds no hour for woes,<br /> + This is my dream of Life.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, I have dreams. I ofttimes dream of +Love<br /> + As radiant and brilliant as a star.<br /> + As changeless, too, as that fixed light afar<br /> +Which glorifies vast worlds of space above.<br /> +<a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>Strong as +the tempest when it holds its breath,<br /> + Before it bursts in fury; and as deep<br /> + As the unfathomed seas, where lost worlds sleep,<br +/> +And sad as birth, and beautiful as death.<br /> + As fervent as the fondest soul could crave,<br /> + Yet holy as the moonlight on a grave.<br /> + This is my dream of Love.</p> +<p class="poetry">Yes, yes, I dream. One oft-recurring +dream<br /> + Is beautiful and comforting and blest,<br /> + Complete with certain promises of rest,<br /> +Divine content, and ecstasy supreme.<br /> +When that strange essence, author of all faith,<br /> + That subtle something, which cries for the light,<br +/> + Like a lost child who wanders in the night,<br /> +Shall solve the mighty mystery of Death,<br /> + Shall find eternal progress, or sublime<br /> + And satisfying slumber for all time.<br /> + This is my dream of Death.</p> +<h2><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 34</span>THE +SONNET</h2> +<p class="poetry">Alone it stands in Poesy’s fair land,<br +/> + A temple by the muses set apart;<br /> + A perfect structure of consummate art,<br /> +By artists builded and by genius planned,<br /> +Beyond the reach of the apprentice hand,<br /> + Beyond the ken of the untutored heart,<br /> + Like a fine carving in a common mart,<br /> +Only the favoured few will understand.<br /> +A <i>chef-d’œvre</i> toiled over with great care,<br +/> + Yet which the unseeing careless crowd goes by,<br /> +A plainly set, but well-cut solitaire,<br /> +An ancient bit of pottery, too rare<br /> + To please or hold aught save the special eye,<br /> +These only with the sonnet can compare.</p> +<h2><a name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>THE +PAST</h2> +<p class="poetry">Fling my past behind me, like a robe<br /> +Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date.<br /> +I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep<br /> +And dwell up on its beauty, and its dyes<br /> +Of Oriental splendour, or complain<br /> +That I must needs discard it? I can weave<br /> +Upon the shuttles of the future years<br /> +A fabric far more durable. Subdued,<br /> +It may be, in the blending of its hues,<br /> +Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam<br /> +Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through,<br /> +While over all a fadeless lustre lies,<br /> +And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears,<br /> +My new robe shall be richer than the old.</p> +<h2><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>A +DREAM</h2> +<p class="poetry">That was a curious dream; I thought the +three<br /> + Great planets that are drawing near the sun<br /> + With such unerring certainty begun<br /> +To talk together in a mighty glee.<br /> +They spoke of vast convulsions which would be<br /> + Throughout the solar system—the rare fun<br /> + Of watching haughty stars drop, one by one,<br /> +And vanish in a seething vapour sea.</p> +<p class="poetry">I thought I heard them comment on the +earth—<br /> + That small dark object—doomed beyond a +doubt.<br /> + They wondered if live creatures moved about<br /> +Its tiny surface, deeming it of worth.<br /> + And then they laughed—’twas such a +singing shout<br /> +That I awoke and joined too in their mirth.</p> +<h2><a name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +37</span>USELESSNESS</h2> +<p class="poetry">Let mine not be that saddest fate of all<br /> + To live beyond my greater self; to see<br /> + My faculties decaying, as the tree<br /> +Stands stark and helpless while its green leaves fall.<br /> +Let me hear rather the imperious call,<br /> + Which all men dread, in my glad morning time,<br /> + And follow death ere I have reached my prime,<br /> +Or drunk the strengthening cordial of life’s gall.<br /> +The lightning’s stroke or the fierce tempest blast<br /> + Which fells the green tree to the earth to-day<br /> +Is kinder than the calm that lets it last,<br /> + Unhappy witness of its own decay.<br /> + May no man ever look on me and say,<br /> +“She lives, but all her usefulness is past.”</p> +<h2><a name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +38</span>WILL</h2> +<p class="poetry">There is no chance, no destiny, no fate,<br /> +Can circumvent or hinder or control<br /> +The firm resolve of a determined soul.<br /> +Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;<br /> +All things give way before it, soon or late.<br /> + What obstacle can stay the mighty force<br /> + Of the sea-seeking river in its course,<br /> +Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?</p> +<p class="poetry">Each well-born soul must win what it +deserves.<br /> +Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate<br /> + Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,<br /> + Whose slightest action or inaction serve.<br /> +The one great aim.<br /> + Why, even Death +stands still,<br /> +And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.</p> +<h2><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>WINTER +RAIN</h2> +<p class="poetry">Falling upon the frozen world last<br /> +I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain—<br /> +Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain;<br /> +The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might,<br /> +Far better had the fixedness of white<br /> +And uncomplaining snows—which make no sign,<br /> +But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine—<br /> +Concealed its sorrow from all human sight.<br /> +Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years,<br /> +I learned the uselessness of uttered woe.<br /> +Though sinewy Fate deals her most skilful blow,<br /> + I do not waste the gall now of my tears,<br /> + But feed my pride upon its bitter, while<br /> +I look straight in the world’s bold eyes, and smile.</p> +<h2><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>LIFE</h2> +<p class="poetry">Life, like a romping schoolboy, full of +glee,<br /> +Doth bear us on his shoulder for a time.<br /> +There is no path too steep for him to climb.<br /> +With strong, lithe limbs, as agile and as free,<br /> +As some young roe, he speeds by vale and sea,<br /> + By flowery mead, by mountain peak sublime,<br /> + And all the world seems motion set to rhyme,<br /> +Till, tired out, he cries, “Now carry me!”<br /> + In vain we murmur; “Come,” Life says, +“Fair play!”<br /> +And seizes on us. God! he goads us so!<br /> + He does not let us sit down all the day.<br /> +At each new step we feel the burden grow,<br /> +Till our bent backs seem breaking as we go,<br /> + Watching for Death to meet us on the way.</p> +<h2><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +41</span>BURDENED</h2> +<blockquote><p>“Genius, a man’s weapon, a +woman’s burden.”—Lamartine.</p> +</blockquote> +<p class="poetry">Dear God! there is no sadder fate in life<br /> + Than to be burdened so that you can not<br /> + Sit down contented with the common lot<br /> +Of happy mother and devoted wife.</p> +<p class="poetry">To feel your brain wild and your bosom rife<br +/> + With all the sea’s commotion; to be fraught<br +/> + With fires and frenzies which you have not +sought,<br /> +And weighed down with the wild world’s weary strife;</p> +<p class="poetry">To feel a fever always in your breast;<br /> + To lean and hear, half in affright, half shame,<br +/> + A loud-voiced public boldly mouth your name;<br /> +To reap your hard-sown harvest in unrest,<br /> + And know, however great your meed of fame,<br /> +You are but a weak woman at the best.</p> +<h2><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>LET +THEM GO</h2> +<p class="poetry">Let the dream go. Are there not other +dreams<br /> + In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight<br /> +That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams,<br /> + And shoot the shadows through and through with +light?<br /> + What matters one lost vision of the night?<br /> + Let the dream +go!!</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the hope set. Are there not other +hopes<br /> + That yet shall rise like new stars in thy sky?<br /> +Not long a soul in sullen darkness gropes<br /> + Before some light is lent it from on high;<br /> + What folly to think happiness gone by!<br /> + Let the hope +set!</p> +<p class="poetry">Let the joy fade. Are there not other +joys,<br /> + Like frost-bound bulbs, that yet shall start and +bloom?<br /> +Severe must be the winter that destroys<br /> + The hardy roots locked in their silent tomb.<br /> + What cares the earth for her brief time of gloom<br +/> + Let the joy +fade!</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +43</span>Let the love die. Are there not other loves<br /> + As beautiful and full of sweet unrest,<br /> +Flying through space like snowy-pinioned doves?<br /> + They yet shall come and nestle in thy breast,<br /> +And thou shalt say of each, “Lo, this is best!”<br /> + Let the love +die!</p> +<h2><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>FIVE +KISSES</h2> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Mother’s Kiss</span><br /> +I</h3> +<p class="poetry">Love breathed a secret to her listening +heart,<br /> + And said “Be silent.” Though she +guarded it,<br /> +And dwelt as one within a world apart,<br /> + Yet sun and star seemed by that secret lit.<br /> +And where she passed, each whispering wind ablow,<br /> + And every little blossom in the sod,<br /> +Called joyously to her, “We know, we know,<br /> + For are we not the intimates of God?”<br /> +Life grew so radiant, and so opulent,<br /> + That when her fragile body and her brain<br /> +By mortal throes of agony were rent,<br /> + She felt a curious rapture in her pain.<br /> +Then, after anguish, came the supreme bliss—<br /> +They brought the little baby, for her kiss!</p> +<h3><a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span><span +class="smcap">The Betrothal</span><br /> +II</h3> +<p class="poetry">There was a little pause between the dances;<br +/> + Without, somewhere, a tinkling fountain played.<br +/> +The dusky path was lit by ardent glances<br /> + As forth they fared, a lover and a maid.<br /> +He chose a nook, from curious eyes well hidden—<br /> + All redolent with sweet midsummer charm,<br /> +And by the great primeval instinct bidden,<br /> + He drew her in the shelter of his arm.<br /> +The words that long deep in his heart had trembled<br /> +Found sudden utterance; she at first dissembled,<br /> + Refused her lips, and half withdrew her hand,<br /> +Then murmured “Yes,” and yielded, woman fashion,<br +/> +Her virgin mouth to young love’s kiss of passion.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">The Bridal Kiss</span><br /> +III</h3> +<p class="poetry">As fleecy clouds trail back across the +skies,<br /> + Showing the sweet young moon in azure space,<br /> + The lifted veil revealed her shining face—<br +/> +A sudden wonder to his eager eyes.<br /> +<a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>In that +familiar beauty lurked surprise:<br /> + For now the wife stood in the maiden’s +place—<br /> + With conscious dignity, and woman’s grace,<br +/> +And love’s large pride grown trebly fair and wise.</p> +<p class="poetry">The world receded, leaving them alone.<br /> + The universe was theirs, from sphere to sphere,<br +/> +And life assumed new meaning, and new worth.<br /> +Love held no privilege they did not own,<br /> + And when they kissed each other without fear,<br /> +They understood why God had made the earth.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Domestic Bliss</span><br /> +IV</h3> +<p class="poetry">Sequestered in their calm domestic bower,<br /> + They sat together. He in manhood’s +prime<br /> +And she a matron in her fullest flower.<br /> + The mantel clock gave forth a warning chime.<br /> +She put her work aside; his bright cigar<br /> + Grew pale, and crumbled in an ashen heap.<br /> +The lights went out, save one remaining star<br /> + That watched beside the children in their sleep.<br +/> +She hummed a little song and nestled near,<br /> + As side by side they went to their repose.<br /> +<a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>His arm +about her waist, he whispered “Dear,”<br /> + And pressed his lips upon her mouth’s full +rose—<br /> +The sacred sweetness of their wedded life<br /> + Breathed in that kiss of husband and of wife.</p> +<h3><span class="smcap">Old Age</span><br /> +V</h3> +<p class="poetry">The young see heaven—but to the old who +wait<br /> + The final call, the hills of youth arise<br /> + More beautiful than shores of Paradise.<br /> +Beside a glowing and voracious grate<br /> + A dozing couple dream of yesterday;<br /> +The islands of a vanished past appear,<br /> +Bringing forgotten names and faces near;<br /> + While lost in mist, the present fades away.<br /> +The fragrant winds of tender memories blow<br /> + Across the gardens of the +“Used-to-be!”<br /> + They smile into each other’s eyes, and see<br +/> +The bride and bridegroom of the long ago.<br /> + And tremulous lips, pressed close to faded cheek<br +/> + Love’s silent tale of deathless passion +speak.</p> +<h2><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +48</span>RETROSPECTION</h2> +<p class="poetry">I look down the lengthening distance<br /> + Far back to youth’s valley of hope.<br /> +How strange seemed the ways of existence,<br /> + How infinite life and its scope!</p> +<p class="poetry">What dreams, what ambitions came thronging<br +/> + To people a world of my own!<br /> +How the heart in my bosom was longing,<br /> + For pleasures and places unknown.</p> +<p class="poetry">But the hill-tops of pleasure and beauty<br /> + Were covered with mist at the dawn;<br /> +And only the rugged road Duty<br /> + Shone clear, as my feet wandered on.</p> +<p class="poetry">I loved not the path and its leading,<br /> + I hated the rocks and the dust;<br /> +But a Voice from the Silence was pleading,<br /> + It spoke but one +syllable—“Trust.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +49</span>I saw, as the morning grew older,<br /> + The fair flowered hills of delight;<br /> +And the feet of my comrades grew bolder,<br /> + They hurried away from my sight.</p> +<p class="poetry">And when on the pathway I faltered,<br /> + And when I rebelled at my fate,<br /> +The Voice with assurance unaltered,<br /> + Again spoke one +syllable—“Wait.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Along the hard highway I travelled<br /> + And saw, with dim vision, how soon<br /> +The morning’s gold locks were unravelled,<br /> + By fingers of amorous noon.</p> +<p class="poetry">A turn in the pathway of duty—<br /> + I stood in the perfect day’s prime,<br /> +Close, close to the hillside of beauty<br /> + The Voice from the Silence said +“Climb”</p> +<p class="poetry">The road to the beautiful Regions<br /> + Lies ever through Duty’s hard way.<br /> +Oh ye who go searching in legions,<br /> + Know this and be patient to-day.</p> +<h2><a name="page50"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +50</span>HELENA</h2> +<p class="poetry">Last night I saw Helena. She whose +praise<br /> + Of late all men have sounded. She for whom<br +/> + Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb<br /> +Rather than live without her all his days.</p> +<p class="poetry">Wise men go mad who look upon her long,<br /> + She is so ripe with dangers. Yet meanwhile<br +/> + I find no fascination in her smile,<br /> +Although I make her theme of this poor song.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Her golden tresses?” yes, they may +be fair,<br /> + And yet to me each shining silken tress<br /> + Seems robbed of beauty and all lustreless—<br +/> +Too many hands have stroked Helena’s hair.</p> +<p class="poetry">(I know a little maiden so demure<br /> + She will not let her one true lover’s hands<br +/> + In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands<br /> +So dainty-minded is she, and so pure.)</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>“Her great dark eyes that flash like gems at +night?<br /> + Large, long-lashed eyes and lustrous?” that +may be,<br /> + And yet they are not beautiful to me.<br /> +Too many hearts have sunned in their delight.</p> +<p class="poetry">(I mind me of two tender blue eyes, hid<br /> + So underneath white curtains, and so veiled<br /> + That I have sometimes plead for hours, and failed<br +/> +To see more than the shyly lifted lid.)</p> +<p class="poetry">“Her perfect mouth so liked a carved +kiss?”<br /> + “Her honeyed-mouth, where hearts do, fly-like, +drown?”<br /> + I would not taste its sweetness for a crown;<br /> +Too many lips have drank its nectared bliss.</p> +<p class="poetry">(I know a mouth whose virgin dew, undried,<br +/> + Lies like a young grape’s bloom, untouched and +sweet,<br /> + And though I plead in passion at her feet,<br /> +She would not let me brush it if I died.)</p> +<p class="poetry">In vain, Helena! though wise men may vie<br /> + For thy rare smile, or die from loss of it,<br /> + Armoured by my sweet lady’s trust, I sit,<br +/> +And know thou are not worth her faintest sigh.</p> +<h2><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>NOTHING REMAINS</h2> +<p class="poetry">Nothing remains of unrecorded ages<br /> + That lie in the silent cemetery time;<br /> +Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages,<br /> + Their glory may have been indeed sublime.<br /> +How weak do seem our strivings after power,<br /> + How poor the grandest efforts of our brains,<br /> +If out of all we are, in one short hour<br /> + Nothing +remains.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nothing remains but the Eternal Spaces,<br /> + Time and decay uproot the forest trees.<br /> +Even the mighty mountains leave their places,<br /> + And sink their haughty heads beneath strange seas<br +/> +The great earth writhes in some convulsive spasms<br /> + And turns the proudest cities into plains.<br /> +The level sea becomes a yawning chasm—<br /> + Nothing remains.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>Nothing remains but the Eternal Forces,<br /> + The sad seas cease complaining and grow dry,<br /> +Rivers are drained and altered in their courses,<br /> + Great stars pass out and vanish from the sky.<br /> +Ideas die and old religions perish,<br /> + Our rarest pleasures and our keenest pains<br /> +Are swept away with all we hate or cherish—<br /> + Nothing remains.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nothing remains but the Eternal Nameless<br /> + And all-creative spirit of the Law,<br /> +Uncomprehended, comprehensive, blameless,<br /> + Invincible, resistless, with no flaw;<br /> +So full of love it must create for ever,<br /> + Destroying that it may create again,<br /> +Persistent and perfecting in endeavour,<br /> + It yet must bring forth angels, after men—<br +/> + This, this remains!</p> +<h2><a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +54</span>COMRADES</h2> +<p class="poetry">I and my Soul are alone to-day,<br /> + All in the shining weather;<br /> +We were sick of the world, and put it away,<br /> + So we could rejoice together.</p> +<p class="poetry">Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky<br /> + Is mixing a rare, sweet wine,<br /> +In the burnished gold of this cup on high,<br /> + For me, and this Soul of mine.</p> +<p class="poetry">We find it a safe and royal drink,<br /> + And a cure for every pain;<br /> +It helps us to love, and helps us to think,<br /> + And strengthens body and brain.</p> +<p class="poetry">And sitting here, with my Soul alone,<br /> + Where the yellow sun-rays fall,<br /> +Of all the friends I have ever known<br /> + I find it the <i>best</i> of all.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +55</span>We rarely meet when the world is near,<br /> + For the World hath a pleasing art<br /> +And brings me so much that is bright and dear<br /> + That my Soul it keepeth apart.</p> +<p class="poetry">But when I grow weary of mirth and glee,<br /> + Of glitter, glow, and splendour,<br /> +Like a tried old friend it comes to me,<br /> + With a smile that is sad and tender.</p> +<p class="poetry">And we walk together as two friends may,<br /> + And laugh and drink God’s wine.<br /> +Oh, a royal comrade any day<br /> + I find this Soul of mine.</p> +<h2><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 56</span>WHAT +GAIN?</h2> +<p class="poetry">Now, while thy rounded cheek is fresh and +fair,<br /> + While beauty lingers, laughing, in thine eyes,<br /> +Ere thy young heart shall meet the stranger, +“Care,”<br /> + Or thy blithe soul become the home of sighs,<br /> +Were it not kindness should I give thee rest<br /> +By plunging this sharp dagger in thy breast?<br /> +Dying so young, with all thy wealth of youth,<br /> +What part of life wouldst thou not claim, in sooth?<br /> + Only the woe,<br +/> + Sweetheart, that sad souls +know.</p> +<p class="poetry">Now, in this sacred hour of supreme trust,<br +/> + Of pure delight and palpitating joy,<br /> +Ere change can come, as come it surely must,<br /> + With jarring doubts and discords, to destroy<br /> +<a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>Our far +too perfect peace, I pray thee, Sweet,<br /> +Were it not best for both of us, and meet,<br /> +If I should bring swift death to seal our bliss?<br /> +Dying so full of joy, what could we miss?<br /> + Nothing but +tears,<br /> + Sweetheart, and weary years.</p> +<p class="poetry">How slight the action! Just one +well-aimed blow<br /> + Here, where I feel thy warm heart’s pulsing +beat,<br /> +And then another through my own, and so<br /> + Our perfect union would be made complete:<br /> +So, past all parting, I should claim thee mine.<br /> +Dead with our youth, and faith, and love divine,<br /> +Should we not keep the best of life that way?<br /> +What shall we gain by living day on day?<br /> + What shall we +gain,<br /> + Sweetheart, but bitter pain?</p> +<h2><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>TO THE +WEST</h2> +<p>[In an interview with Lawrence Barrett, he said: “The +literature of the New World must look to the West for its +poetry.”]</p> +<p class="poetry">Not to the crowded East,<br /> + Where, in a well-worn groove,<br /> +Like the harnessed wheel of a great machine,<br /> + The trammelled mind must move—<br /> +Where Thought must follow the fashion of Thought,<br /> +Or be counted vulgar and set at naught.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not to the languid South,<br /> + Where the mariners of the brain<br /> +Are lured by the Sirens of the Sense,<br /> + And wrecked upon its main—<br /> +Where Thought is rocked, on the sweet wind’s breath<br /> +To a torpid sleep that ends in death.</p> +<p class="poetry">But to the mighty West,<br /> + That chosen realm of God,<br /> +Where Nature reaches her hands to men,<br /> + And Freedom walks abroad—<br /> +Where mind is King, and fashion is naught,<br /> +There shall the New World look for thought</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>To the West, the beautiful West,<br /> + She shall look, and not in vain—<br /> +For out of its broad and boundless store<br /> + Come muscle, and nerve, and brain.<br /> +Let the bards of the East and the South be dumb—<br /> +For out of the West shall the Poets come.</p> +<p class="poetry">They shall come with souls as great<br /> + As the cradle where they were rocked;<br /> +They shall come with brows that are touched with fire<br /> + Like the gods with whom they have walked;<br /> +They shall come from the West in royal state,<br /> +The Singers and Thinkers for whom we wait.</p> +<h2><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 60</span>THE +LAND OF CONTENT</h2> +<p class="poetry">I set out for the Land of Content,<br /> + By the gay crowded pleasure-highway,<br /> +With laughter, and jesting, I went<br /> + With the mirth-loving throng for a day;<br /> + Then I knew I had wandered astray,<br /> +For I met returned pilgrims, belated,<br /> +Who said, “We are weary and sated,<br /> +But we found not the Land of Content.”</p> +<p class="poetry">I turned to the steep path of fame,<br /> + I said, “It is over yon height—<br /> +This land with the beautiful name—<br /> + Ambition will lend me its light.”<br /> + But I paused in my journey ere night,<br /> +For the way grew so lonely and troubled;<br /> +I said—my anxiety doubled—<br /> +“This is not the road to Content.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span>Then I joined the great rabble and throng<br /> + That frequents the moneyed world’s mart;<br /> +But the greed, and the grasping and wrong,<br /> + Left me only one wish—to depart.<br /> + And sickened, and saddened at heart,<br /> +I hurried away from the gateway,<br /> +For my soul and my spirit said straightway.<br /> +“This is not the road to Content.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Then weary in body and brain,<br /> + An overgrown path I detected,<br /> +And I said “I will hide with my pain<br /> + In this byway, unused and neglected.”<br /> + Lo! it led to the realm God selected<br /> +To crown with His best gifts of beauty,<br /> +And through the dark pathway of duty<br /> +I came to the land of Content.</p> +<h2><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +62</span>WARNING</h2> +<p class="poetry">High in the heavens I saw the moon this +morning,<br /> + Albeit the sun shone bright;<br /> +Unto my soul it spoke, in voice of warning,<br /> + “Remember Night!”</p> +<h2><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 63</span>AFTER +THE BATTLES ARE OVER</h2> +<p>[Read at Reunion of the G. A. T., Madison, Wis., July 4, +1872.]</p> +<p class="poetry">After the battles are over,<br /> + And the war drums cease to beat,<br /> +And no more is heard on the hillside<br /> +The sound of hurrying feet,<br /> +Full many a noble action,<br /> + That was done in the days of strife<br /> +By the soldier is half forgotten,<br /> + In the peaceful walks of life.</p> +<p class="poetry">Just as the tangled grasses,<br /> + In Summer’s warmth and light,<br /> +Grow over the graves of the fallen<br /> + And hide them away from sight,<br /> +So many an act of valour,<br /> + And many a deed sublime,<br /> +Fade from the mind of the soldier<br /> + O’ergrown by the grass of time</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +64</span>Not so should they be rewarded,<br /> + Those noble deeds of old!<br /> +They should live for ever and ever,<br /> + When the heroes’ hearts are cold.<br /> +Then rally, ye brave old comrades,<br /> + Old veterans, reunite!<br /> +Uproot Time’s tangled grasses—<br /> + Live over the march, and the fight.</p> +<p class="poetry">Let Grant come up from the White House,<br /> + And clasp each brother’s hand,<br /> +First chieftain of the army,<br /> + Last chieftain of the land.<br /> +Let him rest from a nation’s burdens,<br /> + And go, in thought, with his men,<br /> +Through the fire and smoke of Shiloh,<br /> + And save the day again.</p> +<p class="poetry">This silent hero of battles<br /> + Knew no such word as defeat.<br /> +It was left for the rebels’ learning,<br /> + Along with the word—retreat.<br /> +He was not given to talking,<br /> + But he found that guns would preach<br /> +In a way that was more convincing<br /> + Than fine and flowery speech</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +65</span>Three cheers for the grave commander<br /> + Of the grand old Tennessee!<br /> +Who won the first great battle—<br /> + Gained the first great victory.<br /> +His motto was always “Conquer,”<br /> + “Success” was his countersign,<br /> +And “though it took all Summer,”<br /> + He kept fighting upon “that line.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Let Sherman, the stern old General,<br /> + Come rallying with his men;<br /> +Let them march once more through Georgia<br /> + And down to the sea again.<br /> +Oh! that grand old tramp to Savannah,<br /> + Three hundred miles to the coast,<br /> +It will live in the heart of the nation,<br /> + For ever its pride and boast.</p> +<p class="poetry">As Sheridan went to the battle,<br /> + When a score of miles away,<br /> +He has come to the feast and banquet,<br /> + By the iron horse to-day.<br /> +Its pace is not much swifter<br /> + Than the pace of that famous steed<br /> +Which bore him down to the contest<br /> + And saved the day by his speed.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +66</span>Then go over the ground to-day, boys<br /> + Tread each remembered spot.<br /> +It will be a gleesome journey,<br /> + On the swift-shod feet of thought;<br /> +You can fight a bloodless battle,<br /> + You can skirmish along the route,<br /> +But it’s not worth while to forage,<br /> + There are rations enough without.</p> +<p class="poetry">Don’t start if you hear the cannon,<br /> + It is not the sound of doom,<br /> +It does not call to the contest—<br /> + To the battle’s smoke and gloom.<br /> +“Let us have peace,” was spoken,<br /> + And lo! peace ruled again;<br /> +And now the nation is shouting,<br /> + Through the cannon’s voice, +“Amen.”</p> +<p class="poetry">O boys who besieged old Vicksburgh,<br /> + Can time e’er wash away<br /> +The triumph of her surrender,<br /> + Nine years ago to-day?<br /> +Can you ever forget the moment,<br /> + When you saw the flag of white,<br /> +That told how the grim old city<br /> + Had fallen in her might?</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +67</span>Ah, ’twas a bold, brave army,<br /> + When the boys, with a right good will,<br /> +Went gaily marching and singing<br /> + To the fight at Champion Hill.<br /> +They met with a warm reception,<br /> + But the soul of “Old John Brown”<br /> +Was abroad on that field of battle,<br /> + And our flag did <span class="GutSmall">NOT</span> +go down.</p> +<p class="poetry">Come, heroes of Look Out Mountain,<br /> + Of Corinth and Donelson,<br /> +Of Kenesaw and Atlanta,<br /> + And tell how the day was won!<br /> +Hush! bow the head for a moment—<br /> + There are those who cannot come.<br /> +No bugle-call can arouse them—<br /> + No sound of fife or drum.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, boys who died for the country,<br /> + Oh, dear and sainted dead!<br /> +What can we say about you<br /> + That has not once been said?<br /> +Whether you fell in the contest,<br /> + Struck down by shot and shell,<br /> +Or pined ’neath the hand of sickness<br /> + Or starved in the prison cell,</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +68</span>We know that you died for Freedom,<br /> + To save our land from shame,<br /> +To rescue a perilled Nation,<br /> + And we give you deathless fame.<br /> +’Twas the cause of Truth and Justice<br /> + That you fought and perished for,<br /> +And we say it, oh, so gently,<br /> + “Our boys who died in the war.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Saviours of our Republic,<br /> + Heroes who wore the blue,<br /> +We owe the peace that surrounds us—<br /> + And our Nation’s strength to you.<br /> +We owe it to you that our banner,<br /> + The fairest flag in the world,<br /> +Is to-day unstained, unsullied,<br /> + On the Summer air unfurled.</p> +<p class="poetry">We look on its stripes and spangles,<br /> + And our hearts are filled the while<br /> +With love for the brave commanders,<br /> + And the boys of the rank and file.<br /> +The grandest deeds of valour<br /> + Were never written out,<br /> +The noblest acts of virtue<br /> + The world knows nothing about.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +69</span>And many a private soldier,<br /> + Who walks his humble way,<br /> +With no sounding name or title,<br /> + Unknown to the world to-day,<br /> +In the eyes of God is a hero<br /> + As worthy of the bays<br /> +As any mighty General<br /> + To whom the world gives praise.</p> +<p class="poetry">Brave men of a mighty army,<br /> + We extend you friendship’s hand<br /> +I speak for the “Loyal Women,”<br /> + Those pillars of our land.<br /> +We wish you a hearty welcome,<br /> + We are proud that you gather here<br /> +To talk of old times together<br /> + On this brightest day in the year.</p> +<p class="poetry">And if Peace, whose snow-white pinions<br /> + Brood over our land to-day,<br /> +Should ever again go from us,<br /> + (God grant she may ever stay!)<br /> +Should our Nation call in her peril<br /> + For “Six hundred thousand more,”<br /> +The loyal women would hear her,<br /> + And send you out as before.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span>We would bring out the treasured knapsack,<br /> + We would take the sword from the wall,<br /> +And hushing our own hearts’ pleadings,<br /> + Hear only the country’s call.<br /> +For next to our God is our Nation;<br /> + And we cherish the honoured name<br /> +Of the bravest of all brave armies<br /> + Who fought for that Nation’s fame.</p> +<h2><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>AND +THEY ARE DUMB</h2> +<p class="poetry">I have been across the bridges of the years.<br +/> + Wet with tears<br /> +Were the ties on which I trod, going back<br /> + Down the track<br /> +To the valley where I left, ’neath skies of Truth,<br /> + My lost youth.</p> +<p class="poetry">As I went, I dropped my burdens, one and +all—<br /> + Let them fall;<br /> +All my sorrows, all my wrinkles, all my care,<br /> + My white hair,<br /> +I laid down, like some lone pilgrim’s heavy pack,<br /> + By the track.</p> +<p class="poetry">As I neared the happy valley with light +feet,<br /> + My heart beat<br /> +To the rhythm of a song I used to know<br /> + Long ago,<br /> +And my spirits gushed and bubbled like a fountain<br /> + Down a mountain.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +72</span>On the border of that valley I found you,<br /> + Tried and true;<br /> +And we wandered through the golden Summer-Land<br /> + Hand in hand.<br /> +And my pulses beat with rapture in the blisses<br /> + Of your kisses.</p> +<p class="poetry">And we met there, in those green and verdant +places,<br /> + Smiling faces,<br /> +And sweet laughter echoed upward from the dells<br /> + Like gold bells.<br /> +And the world was spilling over with the glory<br /> + Of Youth’s story.</p> +<p class="poetry">It was but a dreamer’s journey of the +brain;<br /> + And again<br /> +I have left the happy valley far behind;<br /> + And I find<br /> +Time stands waiting with his burdens in a pack<br /> + For my back.</p> +<p class="poetry">As he speeds me, like a rough, well-meaning +friend,<br /> + To the end,<br /> +Will I find again the lost ones loved so well?<br /> + Who can tell!<br /> +But the dead know what the life will be to come—<br /> + And they are dumb!</p> +<h2><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>NIGHT</h2> +<p class="poetry">As some dusk mother shields from all alarms<br +/> + The tired child she gathers to her breast,<br /> +The brunette Night doth fold me in her arms,<br /> + And hushes me to perfect peace and rest.<br /> +Her eyes of stars shine on me, and I hear<br /> +Her voice of winds low crooning on my ear.<br /> +O Night, O Night, how beautiful thou art!<br /> +Come, fold me closer to thy pulsing heart.</p> +<p class="poetry">The day is full of gladness, and the light<br +/> + So beautifies the common outer things,<br /> +I only see with my external sight,<br /> + And only hear the great world’s voice which +rings.<br /> +But silently from daylight and from din<br /> +The sweet Night draws me—whispers, “Look +within!”<br /> +And looking, as one wakened from a dream,<br /> +I see what <i>is</i>—no longer what doth seem.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +74</span>The Night says, “Listen!” and upon my ear<br +/> + Revealed, as are the visions to my sight,<br /> +The voices known as “Beautiful” come near<br /> + And whisper of the vastly Infinite.<br /> +Great, blue-eyed Truth, her sister Purity,<br /> +Their brother Honour, all converse with me,<br /> +And kiss my brow, and say, “Be brave of heart!”<br /> +O holy three! how beautiful thou art!</p> +<p class="poetry">The Night says, “Child, sleep that thou +may’st arise<br /> + Strong for to-morrow’s struggle.” +And I feel<br /> +Her shadowy fingers pressing on my eyes:<br /> + Like thistledown I float to the Ideal—<br /> +The Slumberland, made beautiful and bright<br /> +As death, by dreams of loved ones gone from sight,<br /> +O food for souls, sweet dreams of pure delight,<br /> +How beautiful the holy hours of Night!</p> +<h2><a name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 75</span>ALL +FOR ME</h2> +<p class="poetry">The world grows green on a thousand +hills—<br /> + By a thousand willows the bees are humming,<br /> +And a million birds by a million rills,<br /> + Sing of the golden season coming.<br /> +But, gazing out on the sun-kist lea,<br /> + And hearing a thrush and a blue-bird singing,<br /> +I feel that the summer is all for me,<br /> + And all for me are the joys it is bringing.</p> +<p class="poetry">All for me the bumble-bee<br /> + Drones his song in the perfect weather;<br /> +And, just on purpose to sing to me,<br /> + Thrush and blue-bird came North together.<br /> +Just for me, in red and white,<br /> + Bloom and blossom the fields of clover;<br /> +And all for me and my delight<br /> + The wild Wind follows and plays the lover.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +76</span>The mighty sun, with a scorching kiss<br /> + (I have read, and heard, and do not doubt it)<br /> +Has burned up a thousand worlds like this,<br /> + And never stopped to think about it.<br /> +And yet I believe he hurries up<br /> + Just on purpose to kiss my flowers—<br /> +To drink the dew from the lily-cup,<br /> + And help it to grow through golden hours.</p> +<p class="poetry">I know I am only a speck of dust,<br /> + An individual mite of masses,<br /> +Clinging upon the outer crust<br /> + Of a little ball of cooling gases.<br /> +And yet, and yet, say what you will,<br /> + And laugh, if you please, at my lack of reason,<br +/> +For me wholly, and for me still,<br /> + Blooms and blossoms the Summer season.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nobody else has ever heard<br /> + The story the Wind to me discloses;<br /> +And none but I and the humming-bird<br /> + Can read the hearts of the crimson roses.<br /> +Ah, my Summer—my love—my own!<br /> + The world grows glad in your smiling weather;<br /> +Yet all for me, and me alone,<br /> + You and your Court came North together.</p> +<h2><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 77</span>INTO +SPACE</h2> +<p class="poetry">If the sad old world should jump a cog<br /> + Sometime, in its dizzy spinning,<br /> +And go off the track with a sudden jog,<br /> + What an end would come to the sinning,<br /> +What a rest from strife and the burdens of life<br /> + For the millions of people in it,<br /> +What a way out of care, and worry and wear,<br /> + All in a beautiful minute.</p> +<p class="poetry">As ’round the sun with a curving sweep<br +/> + It hurries and runs and races,<br /> +Should it lose its balance, and go with a leap<br /> + Into the vast sea-spaces,<br /> +What a blest relief it would bring to the grief,<br /> + And the trouble and toil about us,<br /> +To be suddenly hurled from the solar world<br /> + And let it go on without us.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page78"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +78</span>With not a sigh or a sad good-bye<br /> + For loved ones left behind us,<br /> +We would go with a lunge and a mighty plunge<br /> + Where never a grave should find us.<br /> +What a wild mad thrill our veins would fill<br /> + As the great earth, like a feather,<br /> +Should float through the air to God knows where,<br /> + And carry us all together.</p> +<p class="poetry">No dark, damp tomb and no mourner’s +gloom,<br /> + No tolling bell in the steeple,<br /> +But in one swift breath a painless death<br /> + For a million billion people.<br /> +What greater bliss could we ask than this,<br /> + To sweep with a bird’s free motion<br /> +Through leagues of space to a resting place,<br /> + In a vast and vapoury ocean—<br /> +To pass away from this life for aye<br /> + With never a dear tie sundered,<br /> +And a world on fire for a funeral pyre,<br /> + While the stars looked on and wondered?</p> +<h2><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>THROUGH DIM EYES</h2> +<p class="poetry">Is it the world, or my eyes, that are +sadder?<br /> +I see not the grace that I used to see<br /> +In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or<br /> +In the boughs of the willow tree.<br /> +The brook runs slower—its song seems lower<br /> +And not the song that it sang of old;<br /> +And the tree I admired looks weary and tired<br /> +Of the changeless story of heat and cold.</p> +<p class="poetry">When the sun goes up, and the stars go +under,<br /> +In that supreme hour of the breaking day,<br /> +Is it my eyes, or the dawn, I wonder,<br /> +That finds less of the gold, and more of the gray<br /> +I see not the splendour, the tints so tender,<br /> +The rose-hued glory I used to see;<br /> +And I often borrow a vague half-sorrow<br /> +That another morning has dawned for me.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>When the royal smile of that welcome comer<br /> +Beams on the meadow and burns in the sky,<br /> +Is it my eyes, or does the Summer<br /> +Bring less of bloom than in days gone by?<br /> +The beauty that thrilled me, the rapture that filled me,<br /> +To an overflowing of happy tears,<br /> +I pass unseeing, my sad eyes being<br /> +Dimmed by the shadow of vanished years.</p> +<p class="poetry">When the heart grows weary, all things seem +dreary;<br /> +When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long.<br /> +Thank God for sending kind death as an ending,<br /> +Like a grand Amen to a minor song.</p> +<h2><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 81</span>THE +PUNISHED</h2> +<p class="poetry">Not they who know the awful gibbet’s +anguish,<br /> + Not they who, while sad years go by them, in<br /> +The sunless cells of lonely prisons languish,<br /> + Do suffer fullest penalty for sin.</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis they who walk the highways +unsuspected,<br /> + Yet with grim fear for ever at their side,<br /> +Who hug the corpse of some sin undetected,<br /> + A corpse no grave or coffin-lid can hide—</p> +<p class="poetry">’Tis they who are in their own chambers +haunted<br /> + By thoughts that like unbidden guests intrude,<br /> +And sit down, uninvited and unwanted,<br /> + And make a nightmare of the solitude.</p> +<h2><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 82</span>HALF +FLEDGED</h2> +<p class="poetry">I feel the stirrings in me of great things.<br +/> +New half-fledged thoughts rise up and beat their wings,<br /> +And tremble on the margin of their nest,<br /> +Then flutter back, and hide within my breast.</p> +<p class="poetry">Beholding space, they doubt their untried +strength.<br /> +Beholding men, they fear them. But at length,<br /> +Grown all too great and active for the heart<br /> +That broods them with such tender mother art,<br /> +Forgetting fear, and men, and all, that hour,<br /> +Save the impelling consciousness of power<br /> +That stirs within them—they shall soar away<br /> +Up to the very portals of the Day.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, what exultant rapture thrills me through<br +/> +When I contemplate all those thoughts may do;<br /> +Like snow-white eagles penetrating space,<br /> +They may explore full many an unknown place,<br /> +And build their nests on mountain heights unseen,<br /> +Whereon doth lie that dreamed-of rest serene.<br /> +<a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>Stay thou +a little longer in my breast,<br /> +Till my fond heart shall push thee from the nest<br /> +Anxious to see thee soar to heights divine—<br /> +Oh, beautiful but half-fledged thoughts of mine.</p> +<h2><a name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>THE +YEAR</h2> +<p class="poetry">What can be said in New Year rhymes,<br /> +That’s not been said a thousand times?</p> +<p class="poetry">The new years come, the old years go,<br /> +We know we dream, we dream we know.</p> +<p class="poetry">We rise up laughing with the light,<br /> +We lie down weeping with the night.</p> +<p class="poetry">We hug the world until it stings,<br /> +We curse it then and sigh for wings.</p> +<p class="poetry">We live, we love, we woo, we wed,<br /> +We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead.</p> +<p class="poetry">We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear,<br /> +And that’s the burden of the year.</p> +<h2><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>THE +UNATTAINED</h2> +<p class="poetry">A vision beauteous as the morn,<br /> + With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming,<br /> +Slow glided o’er a field late shorn<br /> + Where walked a poet idly dreaming.<br /> +He saw her, and joy lit his face,<br /> + “Oh, vanish not at human speaking,”<br +/> +He cried, “thou form of magic grace,<br /> + Thou art the poem I am seeking.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I’ve sought thee long! I +claim thee now—<br /> + My thought embodied, living, real.”<br /> +She shook the tresses from her brow.<br /> + “Nay, nay!” she said, “I am +ideal.<br /> +I am the phantom of desire—<br /> + The spirit of all great endeavour,<br /> +I am the voice that says, ‘Come higher,’<br /> + That calls men up and up for ever.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>“’Tis not alone thy thought supreme<br /> + That here upon thy path has risen;<br /> +I am the artist’s highest dream,<br /> + The ray of light he cannot prison.<br /> +I am the sweet ecstatic note<br /> + Than all glad music gladder, clearer,<br /> +That trembles in the singer’s throat,<br /> + And dies without a human hearer.</p> +<p class="poetry">“I am the greater, better yield,<br /> + That leads and cheers thy farmer neighbour,<br /> +For me he bravely tills the field<br /> + And whistles gaily at his labour.<br /> +Not thou alone, O poet soul,<br /> + Dost seek me through an endless morrow,<br /> +But to the toiling, hoping whole<br /> + I am at once the hope and sorrow.</p> +<p class="poetry">“The spirit of the unattained,<br /> + I am to those who seek to name me,<br /> +A good desired but never gained:<br /> + All shall pursue, but none shall claim +me.”</p> +<h2><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 87</span>IN THE +CROWD</h2> +<p class="poetry">How happy they are, in all seeming,<br /> + How gay, or how smilingly proud,<br /> +How brightly their faces are beaming,<br /> + These people who make up the crowd!<br /> +How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter,<br /> + How they look at each other and smile,<br /> +How they glow, and what <i>bon mots</i> they utter!<br /> + But a strange thought has found me the while!</p> +<p class="poetry">It is odd, but I stand here and fancy<br /> + These people who now play a part,<br /> +All forced by some strange necromancy<br /> + To speak, and to act, from the heart.<br /> +What a hush would come over the laughter!<br /> + What a silence would fall on the mirth!<br /> +And then what a wail would sweep after,<br /> + As the night-wind sweeps over the earth!</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>If the secrets held under and hidden<br /> + In the intricate hearts of the crowd<br /> +Were suddenly called to, and bidden<br /> + To rise up and cry out aloud,<br /> +How strange one would look to another!<br /> + Old friends of long standing and years—<br /> +Own brothers would not know each other,<br /> + Robed new in their sorrows and fears.</p> +<p class="poetry">From broadcloth, and velvet, and laces,<br /> + Would echo the groans of despair,<br /> +And there would be blanching of faces<br /> + And wringing of hands and of hair.<br /> +That man with his record of honour,<br /> + That lady down there with the rose,<br /> +That girl with Spring’s freshness upon her,<br /> + Who knoweth the secrets of those?</p> +<p class="poetry">Smile on, O ye maskers, smile sweetly!<br /> + Step lightly, bow low and laugh loud!<br /> +Though the world is deceived and completely,<br /> + I know ye, O sad-hearted crowd!<br /> +I watch you with infinite pity:<br /> + But play on, play ever your part,<br /> +Be gleeful, be joyful, be witty!<br /> + ’Tis better than showing the heart.</p> +<h2><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>LIFE +AND I</h2> +<p class="poetry">Life and I are lovers, straying<br /> + Arm in arm along:<br /> +Often like two children Maying,<br /> + Full of mirth and song,</p> +<p class="poetry">Life plucks all the blooming hours<br /> + Growing by the way;<br /> +Binds them on my brow like flowers,<br /> + Calls me Queen of May.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then again, in rainy weather,<br /> + We sit vis-à-vis,<br /> +Planning work we’ll do together<br /> + In the years to be.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sometimes Life denies me blisses,<br /> + And I frown or pout;<br /> +But we make it up with kisses<br /> + Ere the day is out.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him,<br /> + Try his trust and faith,<br /> +Saying I shall one day leave him<br /> + For his rival, Death.</p> +<p class="poetry">Then he always grows more zealous,<br /> + Tender, and more true;<br /> +Loves the more for being jealous,<br /> + As all lovers do.</p> +<p class="poetry">Though I swear by stars above him,<br /> + And by worlds beyond,<br /> +That I love him—love him—love him;<br /> + Though my heart is fond;</p> +<p class="poetry">Though he gives me, doth my lover,<br /> + Kisses with each breath—<br /> +I shall one day throw him over,<br /> + And plight troth with Death.</p> +<h2><a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +91</span>GUERDON</h2> +<p class="poetry">Upon the white cheek of the Cherub Year<br /> + I saw a tear.<br /> +Alas! I murmured, that the Year should borrow<br /> + So soon a sorrow.<br /> +Just then the sunlight fell with sudden flame:<br /> + The tear became<br /> +A wondrous diamond sparkling in the light—<br /> + A beauteous sight.</p> +<p class="poetry">Upon my soul there fell such woeful loss,<br /> + I said, “The Cross<br /> +Is grievous for a life as young as mine.”<br /> + Just then, like wine,<br /> +God’s sunlight shone from His high Heavens down;<br /> + And lo! a crown<br /> +Gleamed in the place of what I thought a burden—<br /> + My sorrow’s guerdon.</p> +<h2><a name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>SNOWED +UNDER</h2> +<p class="poetry">Of a thousand things that the Year snowed +under—<br /> + The busy Old Year who has gone away—<br /> +How many will rise in the Spring, I wonder,<br /> + Brought to life by the sun of May?<br /> +Will the rose-tree branches, so wholly hidden<br /> + That never a rose-tree seems to be,<br /> +At the sweet Spring’s call come forth unbidden,<br /> + And bud in beauty, and bloom for me?</p> +<p class="poetry">Will the fair green Earth, whose throbbing +bosom<br /> + Is hid like a maid’s in her gown at night,<br +/> +Wake out of her sleep, and with blade and blossom<br /> + Gem her garments to please my sight?<br /> +Over the knoll in the valley yonder<br /> + The loveliest buttercups bloomed and grew;<br /> +When the snow has gone that drifted them under,<br /> + Will they shoot up sunward, and bloom anew?</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span>When wild winds blew, and a sleet-storm pelted,<br /> + I lost a jewel of priceless worth;<br /> +If I walk that way when snows have melted,<br /> + Will the gem gleam up from the bare brown Earth?<br +/> +I laid a love that was dead or dying,<br /> + For the year to bury and hide from sight;<br /> +But out of a trance will it waken, crying,<br /> + And push to my heart, like a leaf to the light?</p> +<p class="poetry">Under the snow lie things so +cherished—<br /> + Hopes, ambitions, and dreams of men—<br /> +Faces that vanished, and trusts that perished,<br /> + Never to sparkle and glow again.<br /> +The Old Year greedily grasped his plunder,<br /> + And covered it over and hurried away:<br /> +Of the thousand things that he did, I wonder<br /> + How many will rise at the call of May?<br /> +O wise Young Year, with your hands held under<br /> + Your mantle of ermine, tell me, pray!</p> +<h2><a name="page94"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +94</span>“LEUDEMANNS-ON-THE-RIVER.”</h2> +<p class="poetry">Toward even, when the day leans down<br /> + To kiss the upturned face of night,<br /> +Out just beyond the loud-voiced town<br /> + I know a spot of calm delight.<br /> +Like crimson arrows from a quiver<br /> + The red rays pierce the waters flowing,<br /> + While we go dreaming, singing, rowing<br /> +To Leudemanns-on-the-River.</p> +<p class="poetry">The hills, like some glad mocking-bird,<br /> + Send back our laughter and our singing,<br /> +While faint—and yet more faint is heard<br /> + The steeple bells all sweetly ringing.<br /> +Some message did the winds deliver<br /> + To each glad heart that August night,<br /> + All heard, but all heard not aright,<br /> +By Leudemanns-on-the-River.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +95</span>Night falls as in some foreign clime,<br /> + Between the hills that slope and rise.<br /> +So dusk the shades at landing-time,<br /> + We could not see each other’s eyes.<br /> +We only saw the moonbeams quiver<br /> + Far down upon the stream! that night<br /> + The new moon gave but little light<br /> +By Leudemanns-on-the-River.</p> +<p class="poetry">How dusky were those paths that led<br /> + Up from the river to the hall.<br /> +The tall trees branching overhead<br /> + Invite the early shades that fall.<br /> +In all the glad blithe world, oh, never<br /> + Were hearts more free from care than when<br /> + We wandered through those walks, we ten,<br /> +By Leudemanns-on-the-River.</p> +<p class="poetry">So soon, so soon, the changes came.<br /> + This August day we two alone,<br /> +On that same river, not the same,<br /> + Dream of a night for ever flown.<br /> +Strange distances have come to sever<br /> + The hearts that gaily beat in pleasure,<br /> + Long miles we cannot cross or measure—<br /> +From Leudemanns-on-the-River.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +96</span>We’ll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day.<br /> + The green, the russet! seems it strange<br /> +So soon, so soon, the leaves can change!<br /> + Ah me! so runs all life away.<br /> +This night-wind chills me, and I shiver;<br /> + The Summer-time is almost past.<br /> + One more good-bye—perhaps the last<br /> +To Leudemanns-on-the-River.</p> +<h2><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>LITTLE +BLUE HOOD</h2> +<p class="poetry">Every morning and every night<br /> + There passes our window near the street,<br /> +A little girl with an eye so bright,<br /> + And a cheek so round and a lip so sweet!<br /> +The daintiest, jauntiest little miss<br /> +That ever any one longed to kiss,</p> +<p class="poetry">She is neat as wax, and fresh to view,<br /> + And her look is wholesome, and clean, and good.<br +/> +Whatever her gown, her hood is blue,<br /> + And so we call her our “Little Blue +Hood,”<br /> +For we know not the name of the dear little lass,<br /> +But we call to each other to see her pass,</p> +<p class="poetry">“Little Blue Hood is coming +now!”<br /> + And we watch from the window while she goes by,<br +/> +She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow,<br /> + And a fearless look in her long-lashed eye!<br /> +And a certain dignity wedded to grace<br /> +Seems to envelop her form and face.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +98</span>Every morning, in sun or rain,<br /> + She walks by the window with sweet, grave air,<br /> +And never guesses behind the pane<br /> + We two are watching and thinking her fair;<br /> +Lovingly watching her down the street,<br /> +Dear little Blue Hood, bright and sweet.</p> +<p class="poetry">Somebody ties that hood of blue<br /> + Under the face so fair to see,<br /> +Somebody loves her, beside we two,<br /> + Somebody kisses her—why can’t we?<br /> +Dear Little Blue Hood fresh and fair,<br /> +Are you glad we love you, or don’t you care?</p> +<h2><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 99</span>NO +SPRING</h2> +<p class="poetry">Up from the South come the birds that were +banished,<br /> + Frightened away by the presence of frost.<br /> +Back to the vale comes the verdure that vanished,<br /> + Back to the forest the leaves that were lost.<br /> +Over the hillside the carpet of splendour,<br /> + Folded through Winter, Spring spreads down again;<br +/> +Along the horizon, the tints that were tender,<br /> + Lost hues of Summer-time, burn bright as then.</p> +<p class="poetry">Only the mountains’ high summits are +hoary,<br /> + To the ice-fettered river the sun gives a key.<br /> +Once more the gleaming shore lists to the story<br /> + Told by an amorous Summer-kissed sea.<br /> +All things revive that in Winter time perished,<br /> + The rose buds again in the light o’ the +sun,<br /> +All that was beautiful, all that was cherished,<br /> + Sweet things and dear things and all +things—save one.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +100</span>Late, when the year and the roses were lying<br /> + Low with the ruins of Summer and bloom,<br /> +Down in the dust fell a love that was dying,<br /> + And the snow piled over it, and made it a tomb.<br +/> +Lo! now the roses are budded for blossom—<br /> + Lo! now the Summer is risen again.<br /> +Why dost thou bud not, O Love of my bosom?<br /> + Why dost thou rise not, and thrill me as then?</p> +<p class="poetry">Life without love is a year without Summer,<br +/> + Heart without love is a wood without song.<br /> +Rise then, revive then, thou indolent comer:<br /> + Why dost thou lie in the dark earth so long?<br /> +Rise! ah, thou can’st not! the rose-tree that sheddest<br +/> + Its beautiful leaves, in the Springtime may +bloom,<br /> +But of cold things the coldest, of dead things the deadest,<br /> + Love buried once, rises not from the tomb.<br /> +Green things may grow on the hillside and heather,<br /> + Birds seek the forest and build there and sing.<br +/> +All things revive in the beautiful weather,<br /> + But unto a dead love there cometh no Spring.</p> +<h2><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +101</span>MIDSUMMER</h2> +<p class="poetry">After the May time, and after the June time,<br +/> + Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet,<br /> +Cometh the round world’s royal noon time,<br /> + The red midsummer of blazing heat.<br /> +When the sun, like an eye that never closes,<br /> + Bends on the earth its fervid gaze,<br /> +And the winds are still, and the crimson roses<br /> + Droop and wither and die in its rays.</p> +<p class="poetry">Unto my heart has come that season,<br /> + O my lady, my worshipped one,<br /> +When over the stars of Pride and Reason<br /> + Sails Love’s cloudless, noonday sun.<br /> +Like a great red ball in my bosom burning<br /> + With fires that nothing can quench or tame.<br /> +It glows till my heart itself seems turning<br /> + Into a liquid lake of flame.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +102</span>The hopes half shy, and the sighs all tender,<br /> + The dreams and fears of an earlier day,<br /> +Under the noontide’s royal splendour,<br /> + Droop like roses and wither away.<br /> +From the hills of doubt no winds are blowing,<br /> + From the isle of pain no breeze is sent.<br /> +Only the sun in a white heat glowing<br /> + Over an ocean of great content.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory,<br /> + Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon,<br /> +For the Autumn must come with its mournful story,<br /> + And Love’s midsummer will fade too soon.</p> +<h2><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 103</span>A +REMINISCENCE</h2> +<p class="poetry">I saw the wild honey-bee kissing a rose<br /> + A wee one, that grows<br /> +Down low on the bush, where her sisters above<br /> + Cannot see all that’s +done<br /> + As the moments roll on.<br /> +Nor hear all the whispers and murmurs of love.</p> +<p class="poetry">They flaunt out their beautiful leaves in the +sun,<br /> + And they flirt, every one,<br /> +With the wild bees who pass, and the gay butterflies.<br /> + And that wee thing in +pink—<br /> + Why, they never once think<br /> +That she’s won a lover right under their eyes.</p> +<p class="poetry">It reminded me, Kate, of a time—you know +when!<br /> + You were so petite then,<br /> +Your dresses were short, and your feet were so small.<br /> + Your sisters, Maud-Belle<br /> + And Madeline—well,<br /> +They <i>both</i> set their caps for me, after that ball.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +104</span>How the blue eyes and black eyes smiled up in my +face!<br /> + ’Twas a neck-and-neck +race,<br /> +Till that day when you opened the door in the hall,<br /> + And looked up and looked down,<br +/> + With your sweet eyes of brown,<br +/> +And <i>you</i> seemed so tiny, and <i>I</i> felt so tall.</p> +<p class="poetry">Your sisters had sent you to keep me, my +dear,<br /> + Till they should appear.<br /> +Then you were dismissed like a child in disgrace.<br /> + How meekly you went!<br /> + But your brown eyes, they sent<br +/> +A thrill to my heart, and a flush to my face.</p> +<p class="poetry">We always were meeting some way after that.<br +/> + You hung up my hat,<br /> +And got it again, when I finished my call.<br /> + Sixteen, and <i>so</i> sweet!<br +/> + Oh, those cute little feet!<br /> +Shall I ever forget how they tripped down the hall?</p> +<p class="poetry">Shall I ever forget the first kiss by the +door,<br /> + Or the vows murmured +o’er,<br /> +Or the rage and surprise of Maud-Belle? Well-a-day,<br /> + How swiftly time flows,<br /> + And who would suppose<br /> +That a <i>bee</i> could have carried me so far away.</p> +<h2><a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 105</span>A +GIRL’S FAITH</h2> +<p class="poetry">Across the miles that stretch between,<br /> + Through days of gloom or glad sunlight,<br /> +There shines a face I have not seen<br /> + Which yet doth make my world more bright.</p> +<p class="poetry">He may be near, he may be far,<br /> + Or near or far I cannot see,<br /> +But faithful as the morning star<br /> + He yet shall rise and come to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">What though fate leads us separate ways,<br /> + The world is round, and time is fleet.<br /> +A journey of a few brief days,<br /> + And face to face we two shall meet.</p> +<p class="poetry">Shall meet beneath God’s arching +skies,<br /> + While suns shall blaze, or stars shall gleam,<br /> +And looking in each other’s eyes<br /> + Shall hold the past but as a dream.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page106"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +106</span>But round and perfect and complete,<br /> + Life like a star shall climb the height,<br /> +As we two press with willing feet<br /> + Together toward the Infinite.</p> +<p class="poetry">And still behind the space between,<br /> + As back of dawns the sunbeams play,<br /> +There shines the face I have not seen,<br /> + Whose smile shall wake my world to-day.</p> +<h2><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>TWO</h2> +<p class="poetry">One leaned on velvet cushions like a +queen—<br /> + To see him pass, the hero of an hour,<br /> +Whom men called great. She bowed with languid mien,<br /> + And smiled, and blushed, and knew her beauty’s +power.</p> +<p class="poetry">One trailed her tinselled garments through the +street,<br /> + And thrust aside the crowd, and found a place<br /> +So near, the blooded courser’s prancing feet<br /> + Cast sparks of fire upon her painted face.</p> +<p class="poetry">One took the hot-house blossoms from her +breast,<br /> + And tossed them down, as he went riding by,<br /> +And blushed rose-red to see them fondly pressed<br /> + To bearded lips, while eye spoke unto eye.</p> +<p class="poetry">One, bold and hardened with her sinful life,<br +/> + Yet shrank and shivered painfully, because<br /> +His cruel glance cut keener than a knife,<br /> + The glance of him who made her what she was.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +108</span>One was observed, and lifted up to fame,<br /> + Because the hero smiled upon her! while<br /> +One who was shunned and hated, found her shame<br /> + In basking in the death-light of his smile.</p> +<h2><a name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +109</span>SLIPPING AWAY</h2> +<p class="poetry">Slipping away—slipping away!<br /> +Out of our brief year slips the May;<br /> +And Winter lingers, and Summer flies;<br /> +And Sorrow abideth, and Pleasure dies;<br /> +And the days are short, and the nights are long;<br /> +And little is right, and much is wrong.</p> +<p class="poetry">Slipping away is the Summer time;<br /> +It has lost its rhythm and lilting rhyme—<br /> +For the grace goes out of the day so soon,<br /> +And the tired head aches in the glare of noon,<br /> +And the way seems long to the hills that lie<br /> +Under the calm of the western sky.</p> +<p class="poetry">Slipping away are the friends whose worth<br /> +Lent a glow to the sad old earth:<br /> +One by one they slip from our sight;<br /> +One by one their graves gleam white;<br /> +Or we count them lost by the crueller death<br /> +Of a trust betrayed, or a murdered faith.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +110</span>Slipping away are the hopes that made<br /> +Bliss out of sorrow, and sun out of shade,<br /> +Slipping away is our hold on life;<br /> +And out of the struggle and wearing strife,<br /> +From joys that diminish, and woes that increase,<br /> +We are slipping away to the shores of Peace.</p> +<h2><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 111</span>IS +IT DONE?</h2> +<p class="poetry">It is done! in the fire’s fitful +flashes,<br /> + The last line has withered and curled.<br /> +In a tiny white heap of dead ashes<br /> + Lie buried the hopes of your world.<br /> +There were mad foolish vows in each letter,<br /> + It is well they have shrivelled and burned,<br /> +And the ring! oh, the ring was a fetter,<br /> + It was better removed and returned.</p> +<p class="poetry">But ah, is it done? In the embers<br /> + Where letters and tokens were cast,<br /> +Have you burned up the heart that remembers,<br /> + And treasures its beautiful past?<br /> +Do you think in this swift reckless fashion<br /> + To ruthlessly burn and destroy<br /> +The months that were freighted with passion,<br /> + The dreams that were drunken with joy?</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +112</span>Can you burn up the rapture of kisses<br /> + That flashed from the lips to the soul,<br /> +Or the heart that grows sick for lost blisses<br /> + In spite of its strength of control?<br /> +Have you burned up the touch of warm fingers<br /> + That thrilled through each pulse and each vein,<br +/> +Or the sound of a voice that still lingers<br /> + And hurts with a haunting refrain?</p> +<p class="poetry">Is it done? is the life drama ended?<br /> + You have put all the lights out, and yet,<br /> +Though the curtain, rung down, has descended,<br /> + Can the actors go home and forget?<br /> +Ah, no! they will turn in their sleeping<br /> + With a strange restless pain in their hearts,<br /> +And in darkness, and anguish, and weeping,<br /> + Will dream they are playing their parts.</p> +<h2><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 113</span>A +LEAF</h2> +<p class="poetry">Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve,<br /> + That you were married, or soon to be.<br /> +I have not thought of you, I believe,<br /> + Since last we parted. Let me see:<br /> +Five long Summers have passed since then—<br /> + Each has been pleasant in its own way—<br /> +And you are but one of a dozen men<br /> + Who have played the suitor a Summer day.</p> +<p class="poetry">But, nevertheless, when I heard your name,<br +/> + Coupled with some one’s, not my own,<br /> +There burned in my bosom a sudden flame,<br /> + That carried me back to the day that is flown.<br /> +I was sitting again by the laughing brook,<br /> + With you at my feet, and the sky above,<br /> +And my heart was fluttering under your look—<br /> + The unmistakable look of Love.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +114</span>Again your breath, like a South wind, fanned<br /> + My cheek, where the blushes came and went;<br /> +And the tender clasp of your strong, warm hand<br /> + Sudden thrills through my pulses sent.<br /> +Again you were mine by Love’s own right—<br /> + Mine for ever by Love’s decree:<br /> +So for a moment it seemed last night,<br /> + When somebody mentioned your name to me.</p> +<p class="poetry">Just for the moment I thought you +mine—<br /> + Loving me, wooing me, as of old.<br /> +The tale remembered seemed half divine—<br /> + Though I held it lightly enough when told.<br /> +The past seemed fairer than when it was near,<br /> + As “blessings brighten when taking +flight;”<br /> +And just for the moment I held you dear—<br /> + When somebody mentioned your name last night.</p> +<h2><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +115</span>ÆSTHETIC</h2> +<p class="poetry">In a garb that was guiltless of colours<br /> + She stood, with a dull, listless air—<br /> +A creature of dumps and of dolours,<br /> + But most undeniably fair.</p> +<p class="poetry">The folds of her garment fell round her,<br /> + Revealing the curve of each limb;<br /> +Well proportioned and graceful I found her,<br /> + Although quite alarmingly slim.</p> +<p class="poetry">From the hem of her robe peeped one +sandal—<br /> + “High art” was she down to her feet;<br +/> +And though I could not understand all<br /> + She said, I could see she was sweet.</p> +<p class="poetry">Impressed by her limpness and languor,<br /> + I proffered a chair near at hand;<br /> +She looked back a mild sort of anger—<br /> + Posed anew, and continued to stand.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>Some praises I next tried to mutter<br /> + Of the fan that she held to her face;<br /> +She said it was “utterly utter,”<br /> + And waved it with languishing grace.</p> +<p class="poetry">I then, in a strain quite poetic,<br /> + Begged her gaze on the bow in the sky,<br /> +She looked—said its curve was +“æsthetic.”<br /> + But the “tone was too dreadfully +high.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Her lovely face, lit by the splendour<br /> + That glorified landscape and sea,<br /> +Woke thoughts that were daring and tender:<br /> + Did <i>her</i> thoughts, too, rest upon me?</p> +<p class="poetry">“Oh, tell me,” I cried, growing +bolder,<br /> + “Have I in your musings a place?”<br /> +“Well, yes,” she said over her shoulder:<br /> + “I was thinking of nothing in +space.”</p> +<h2><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>POEMS OF THE WEEK</h2> +<h3>SUNDAY</h3> +<p class="poetry">Lie still and rest, in that serene repose<br /> +That on this holy morning comes to those<br /> +Who have been burdened with the cares which make<br /> +The sad heart weary and the tired head ache.<br /> + Lie still and rest—<br /> + God’s day of all is best.</p> +<h3>MONDAY</h3> +<p class="poetry">Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy +dreams!<br /> +Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams.<br /> +“As Monday goes, so goes the week,” dames say.<br /> +Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day.<br /> + And see! thy neighbour<br /> + Already seeks his labour.</p> +<h3><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +118</span>TUESDAY</h3> +<p class="poetry">Another morning’s banners are +unfurled—<br /> +Another day looks smiling on the world.<br /> +It holds new laurels for thy soul to win;<br /> +Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin,<br /> + Nor sad, away,<br /> + Send it to yesterday.</p> +<h3>WEDNESDAY</h3> +<p class="poetry">Half-way unto the end—the week’s +high noon.<br /> +The morning hours do speed away so soon!<br /> +And, when the noon is reached, however bright,<br /> +Instinctively we look toward the night.<br /> + The glow is lost<br /> + Once the meridian cross’d.</p> +<h3>THURSDAY</h3> +<p class="poetry">So well the week has sped, hast thou a +friend,<br /> +Go spend an hour in converse. It will lend<br /> +New beauty to thy labours and thy life<br /> +To pause a little sometimes in the strife.<br /> + Toil soon seems rude<br /> + That has no interlude.</p> +<h3><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +119</span>FRIDAY</h3> +<p class="poetry">From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray;<br +/> +Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day,<br /> +Neglect no labour and no duty shirk:<br /> +Not many hours are left thee for thy work—<br /> + And it were meet<br /> + That all should be complete.</p> +<h3>SATURDAY</h3> +<p class="poetry">Now with the almost finished task make +haste.<br /> +So near the night thou hast no time to waste.<br /> +Post up accounts, and let thy Soul’s eyes look<br /> +For flaws and errors in Life’s ledger-book.<br /> + When labours cease,<br /> + How sweet the sense of peace!</p> +<h2><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +120</span>GHOSTS</h2> +<p class="poetry"> There are +ghosts in the room.<br /> +As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there<br /> + They come out of the gloom,<br /> +And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> There’s +the ghost of a Hope<br /> +That lighted my days with a fanciful glow.<br /> + In her hand is the rope<br /> +That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago.</p> +<p class="poetry"> But her +ghost comes to-night,<br /> +With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes,<br /> + And it stands in the light,<br /> +And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> There’s +the ghost of a Joy,<br /> +A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much,<br /> + And the hands that destroy<br /> +Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch.</p> +<p class="poetry"> <a +name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +121</span>There’s the ghost of a Love,<br /> +Born with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest,<br /> + But he towers above<br /> +All the others—this ghost: yet a ghost at the best.</p> +<p class="poetry"> I am weary, +and fain<br /> +Would forget all these dead: but the gibbering host<br /> + Make my struggle in vain,<br /> +In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost.</p> +<h2><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +122</span>FLEEING AWAY</h2> +<p class="poetry">My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar,<br +/> + Higher and higher on soul-lent wings;<br /> +But ever and often, and more and more<br /> + They are dragged down earthward by little things,<br +/> +By little troubles and little needs,<br /> +As a lark might be tangled among the weeds.</p> +<p class="poetry">My purpose is not what it ought to be,<br /> + Steady and fixed, like a star on high,<br /> +But more like a fisherman’s light at sea;<br /> + Hither and thither it seems to fly—<br /> +Sometimes feeble, and sometimes bright,<br /> +Then suddenly lost in the gloom of night.</p> +<p class="poetry">My life is far from my dream of life—<br +/> + Calmly contented, serenely glad;<br /> +But, vexed and worried by daily strife,<br /> + It is always troubled, and ofttimes sad—<br /> +And the heights I had thought I should reach one day<br /> +Grow dimmer and dimmer, and farther away.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>My heart finds never the longed-for rest;<br /> + Its worldly striving, its greed for gold,<br /> +Chilled and frightened the calm-eyed guest,<br /> + Who sometimes sought me in days of old;<br /> +And ever fleeing away from me<br /> +Is the higher self that I long to be.</p> +<h2><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 124</span>ALL +MAD</h2> +<p class="poetry">“He is mad as a hare, poor fellow,<br /> + And should be in chains,” you say.<br /> +I haven’t a doubt of your statement,<br /> + But who isn’t mad, I pray?<br /> +Why, the world is a great asylum,<br /> + And people are all insane,<br /> +Gone daft with pleasure or folly,<br /> + Or crazed with passion and pain.</p> +<p class="poetry">The infant who shrieks at a shadow,<br /> + The child with his Santa Claus faith,<br /> +The woman who worships Dame Fashion,<br /> + Each man with his notions of death,<br /> +The miser who hoards up his earnings,<br /> + The spendthrift who wastes them too soon,<br /> +The scholar grown blind in his delving,<br /> + The lover who stares at the moon.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +125</span>The poet who thinks life a pæan,<br /> + The cynic who thinks it a fraud,<br /> +The youth who goes seeking for pleasure,<br /> + The preacher who dares talk of God,<br /> +All priests with their creeds and their croaking,<br /> + All doubters who dare to deny,<br /> +The gay who find aught to wake laughter,<br /> + The sad who find aught worth a sigh,<br /> +Whoever is downcast or solemn,<br /> + Whoever is gleeful and glad,<br /> +Are only the dupes of delusions—<br /> + We are all of us—all of us mad.</p> +<h2><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +126</span>HIDDEN GEMS</h2> +<p class="poetry">We know not what lies in us, till we seek;<br +/> + Men dive for pearls—they are not found on +shore,<br /> +The hillsides most unpromising and bleak<br /> + Do sometimes hide the ore.</p> +<p class="poetry">Go, dive in the vast ocean of thy mind,<br /> + O man! far down below the noisy waves,<br /> +Down in the depths and silence thou mayst find<br /> + Rare pearls and coral caves.</p> +<p class="poetry">Sink thou a shaft into the mine of thought;<br +/> + Be patient, like the seekers after gold;<br /> +Under the rocks and rubbish lieth what<br /> + May bring thee wealth untold.</p> +<p class="poetry">Reflected from the vastly Infinite,<br /> + However dulled by earth, each human mind<br /> +Holds somewhere gems of beauty and of light<br /> + Which, seeking, thou shalt find.</p> +<h2><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +127</span>BY-AND-BYE</h2> +<p class="poetry">“By-and-bye,” the maiden +sighed—“by-and-bye<br /> +He will claim me for his bride,<br /> +Hope is strong and time is fleet;<br /> +Youth is fair, and love is sweet,<br /> +Clouds will pass that fleck my sky,<br /> +He will come back by-and-bye—by-and-bye.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“By-and-bye,” the soldier +said—“by-and-bye,<br /> +After I have fought and bled,<br /> +I shall go home from the wars,<br /> +Crowned with glory, seamed with scars.<br /> +Joy will flash from some one’s eye<br /> +When she greets me by-and-bye—by-and-bye.”</p> +<p class="poetry">“By-and-bye,” the mother +cried—“by-and-bye,<br /> +Strong and sturdy at my side,<br /> +Like a staff supporting me,<br /> +Will my bonnie baby be.<br /> +Break my rest, then, wail and cry—<br /> +Thou’lt repay me by-and-bye—by-and-bye.”</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +128</span>Fleeting years of time have sped—hurried +by—<br /> +Still the maiden is unwed:<br /> +All unknown the soldier lies,<br /> +Buried under alien skies;<br /> +And the son, with blood-shot eye,<br /> +Saw his mother starve and die.<br /> +God in Heaven! dost Thou on high,<br /> +Keep the promised “by-and-bye”—by-and-bye?</p> +<h2><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 129</span>OVER +THE MAY HILL</h2> +<p class="poetry">All through the night time, and all through the +day time,<br /> + Dreading the morning and dreading the night,<br /> +Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time<br /> + Season of beauty and season of blight,<br /> +Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow,<br /> + Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere,<br /> +Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow,<br /> + Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair.</p> +<p class="poetry">Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are +cheery,<br /> + Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens,<br /> +Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary—<br /> + Too well I know what that weariness means.<br /> +But how could I know in the crisp winter weather<br /> + (Though sometimes I noticed a catch in your +breath),<br /> +Riding and singing and dancing together,<br /> + How could I know you were racing with death?</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +130</span>How could I know when we danced until morning,<br /> + And you were the gayest of all the gay +crowd—<br /> +With only that shortness of breath for a warning,<br /> + How could I know that you danced for a shroud?<br /> +Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight.<br /> + Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave,<br /> +Down in your eyes shone a deep light—a far light,<br /> + How could I know ’twas the light to your +grave?</p> +<p class="poetry">Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing,<br +/> + Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom,<br /> +Cometh the shape and the shadow I’m fearing,<br /> + “Over the May hill” is waiting your +tomb.<br /> +The season of mirth and of music is over—<br /> + I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last +song,<br /> +Under the violets, under the clover,<br /> + My heart and my love will be lying ere long</p> +<h2><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +131</span>FOES</h2> +<p class="poetry">Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear<br +/> + As valued friends. He cannot know<br /> +The zest of life who runneth here<br /> + His earthly race without a foe.</p> +<p class="poetry">I saw a prize. “Run,” cried +my friend;<br /> + “’Tis thine to claim without a +doubt.”<br /> +But ere I half-way reached the end,<br /> + I felt my strength was giving out.</p> +<p class="poetry">My foe looked on the while I ran;<br /> + A scornful triumph lit his eyes.<br /> +With that perverseness born in man,<br /> + I nerved myself, and won the prize.</p> +<p class="poetry">All blinded by the crimson glow<br /> + Of sin’s disguise, I tempted Fate.<br /> +“I knew thy weakness!” sneered my foe,<br /> + I saved myself, and balked his hate.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>For half my blessings, half my gain,<br /> + I needs must thank my trusty foe;<br /> +Despite his envy and disdain,<br /> + He serves me well where’er I go.</p> +<p class="poetry">So may I keep him to the end,<br /> + Nor may his enmity abate:<br /> +More faithful than the fondest friend,<br /> + He guards me ever with his hate.</p> +<h2><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +133</span>FRIENDSHIP</h2> +<p class="poetry">Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be +proving<br /> + Thy strong regard for me,<br /> +Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving;<br /> + Let thy faith speak for thee.</p> +<p class="poetry">Swear not to me that nothing can divide +us—<br /> + So little such oaths mean.<br /> +But when distrust and envy creep beside us<br /> + Let them not come between.</p> +<p class="poetry">Say not to me the depths of thy devotion<br /> + Are deeper than the sea;<br /> +But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion<br /> + Embitter them for me.</p> +<p class="poetry">Vow not to love me ever and for ever,<br /> + Words are such idle things;<br /> +But when we differ in opinions, never<br /> + Hurt me by little stings.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +134</span>I’m sick of words: they are so lightly spoken,<br +/> + And spoken, are but air.<br /> +I’d rather feel thy trust in me unbroken<br /> + Than list thy words so fair.</p> +<p class="poetry">If all the little proofs of trust are +heeded,<br /> + If thou art always kind,<br /> +No sacrifice, no promise will be needed<br /> + To satisfy my mind.</p> +<h2><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 135</span>TWO +SAT DOWN</h2> +<p class="poetry">Two sat down in the morning time,<br /> + One to sing and one to spin.<br /> +All men listened the song sublime—<br /> + But no one listened the dull wheel’s din.</p> +<p class="poetry">The singer sat in a pleasant nook,<br /> + And sang of a life that was fair and sweet,<br /> +While the spinner sat with a steadfast look,<br /> + Busily plying her hands and feet.</p> +<p class="poetry">The singer sang on with a rose in her hair,<br +/> + And all men listened her dulcet tone;<br /> +And the spinner spun on with a dull despair<br /> + Down in her heart as she sat alone.</p> +<p class="poetry">But lo! on the morrow no one said<br /> + Aught of the singer or what she sang.<br /> +Men were saying: “Behold this thread,”<br /> + And loud the praise of the spinner rang.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>The world has forgotten the singer’s +name—<br /> + Her rose is faded, her songs are old;<br /> +But far o’er the ocean the spinner’s fame<br /> + Yet is blazoned in lines of gold.</p> +<h2><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>BOUND AND FREE</h2> +<p class="poetry">Come to me, Love! Come on the wings of +the wind!<br /> + Fly as the ring-dove would fly to his mate!<br /> +Leave all your cares and your sorrows behind!<br /> + Leave all the fears of your future to Fate!<br /> +Come! and our skies shall be glad with the gold<br /> + That paled into gray when you parted from me.<br /> +Come! but remember that, just as of old,<br /> + You must be bound, Love, and I must be free.</p> +<p class="poetry">Life has lost savour since you and I parted;<br +/> + I have been lonely, and you have been sad.<br /> +Youth is too brief to be sorrowful-hearted—<br /> + Come! and again let us laugh and be glad.<br /> +Lips should not sigh that are fashioned to kiss—<br /> + Breasts should not ache that joy’s secrets +have found.<br /> +Come! but remember, in spite of all this,<br /> + I must be free, Love, while you must be bound.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>You must be bound to be true while you live,<br /> + And I keep my freedom for ever, as now.<br /> +You must ask only for that which I give—<br /> + Kisses and love-words, but never a vow.<br /> +Come! I am lonely, and long for your smile,<br /> + Bring back the lost lovely Summer to me!<br /> +Come! but remember, remember the while,<br /> + That you must be bound, Love, and I must be +free.</p> +<h2><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +139</span>AQUILEIA</h2> +<p>[On the election of the Roman Emperor Maximus, by the Senate, +<span class="GutSmall">A.D.</span> 238, a powerful army, headed +by the Thracian giant Maximus, laid siege to Aquileia. +Though poorly prepared for war, the constancy of her citizens +rendered her impregnable. The women of Aquileia cut off +their hair to make ropes for the military engines. The +small body of troops was directed by Chrispinus, a Lieutenant of +the Senate. Apollo was the deity supposed to protect +them.—<i>Gibbon’s Roman History</i>.]</p> +<p class="poetry">“The ropes, the ropes! Apollo send +us ropes,”<br /> +Chrispinus cried, “or death attends our hopes.”<br /> +Then panic reigned, and many a mournful sound<br /> +Hurt the cleft air; for where could ropes be found?</p> +<p class="poetry">Up rose a Roman mother; tall was she<br /> +As her own son, a youth of noble height.<br /> +A little child was clinging to her knee—<br /> +She loosed his twining arms and put him down,<br /> +And her dark eyes flashed with a sudden light.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>How like a queen she stood! her royal crown,<br /> +The rich dark masses of her splendid hair.<br /> +Just flecked with spots of sunshine here and there,<br /> +Twined round her brow; ’twas like a coronet,<br /> +Where gems of gold lie bedded deep in jet.</p> +<p class="poetry">She loosed the comb that held the shining +strands,<br /> +And threaded out the meshes with her hands.<br /> +The purple mass fell to her garment’s hem.<br /> +A queen new clothed without her diadem<br /> +She stood before her subjects.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> “Now,” +she cried,<br /> +“Give me thy sword, Julianus!” And her son<br +/> +Unsheathed the blade (that had not left his side<br /> +Save when it sought a foeman’s blood to shed),<br /> +Awed by her regal bearing, and obeyed.</p> +<p class="poetry">With the white beauty of her firm fair hand<br +/> +She clasped the hilt; then severed, one by one,<br /> +Her gold-flecked purple tresses. Strand on strand,<br /> +Free e’en as foes had fallen by that blade,<br /> +Robbed of its massive wealth of curl and coil,<br /> +Yet like some antique model, rose her head<br /> +In all its classic beauty.</p> +<p +class="poetry"> <a +name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +141</span>“See!” she said,<br /> +And pointed to the shining mound of hair;<br /> +“Apollo makes swift answer to thy prayer,<br /> +Chrispinus. Quick! now, soldiers, to thy toil!”<br /> +Forth from a thousand throats what seemed one voice<br /> +Rose shrilly, filling all the air with cheer.<br /> +“Lo!” quoth the foe, “our enemies +rejoice!”<br /> +Well might the Thracian giant quake with fear!<br /> +For while skilled hands caught up the gleaming threads<br /> +And bound them into cords, a hundred heads<br /> +Yielded their beauteous tresses to the sword,<br /> +And cast them down to swell the precious hoard.</p> +<p class="poetry">Nor was the noble sacrifice in vain<br /> +Another day beheld the giant slain.</p> +<h2><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +142</span>WISHES FOR A LITTLE GIRL</h2> +<p class="poetry">What would I ask the kindly fates to give<br /> + To crown her life, if I could have my way?<br /> +My strongest wishes would be negative,<br /> + If they would but obey.</p> +<p class="poetry">Give her not greatness. For great souls +must stand<br /> + Alone and lonely in this little world:<br /> +Cleft rocks that show the great Creator’s hand,<br /> + Thither by earthquakes hurled.</p> +<p class="poetry">Give her not genius. Spare her the cruel +pain<br /> + Of finding her whole life a prey for daws;<br /> +Of hearing with quickened sense and burning brain<br /> + The world’s sneer-tinged applause.</p> +<p class="poetry">Give her not perfect beauty’s +gifts. For then<br /> + Her truthful mirror would infuse her mind<br /> +With love for self, and for the praise of men,<br /> + That lowers woman-kind.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>But make her fair and comely to the sight,<br /> + Give her more heart than brain, more love than +pride.<br /> +Let her be tender-thoughted, cheerful, bright,<br /> + Some strong man’s star and guide.</p> +<p class="poetry">Not vainly questioning why she was sent<br /> + Into this restless world of toil and strife,<br /> +Let her go bravely on her way, content<br /> + To make the best of life.</p> +<h2><a name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +144</span>ROMNEY</h2> +<p class="poetry">Nay, Romney, nay—I will not hear you +say<br /> + Those words again: “I love you, love you +sweet!”<br /> + You are profane—blasphemous. I +repeat,<br /> +You are no actor for so grand a play.</p> +<p class="poetry">You love with all your heart? Well, that +may be;<br /> + Some cups are fashioned shallow. Should I +try<br /> + To quench my thirst from one of those, when +dry—<br /> +I who have had a full bowl proffered me—</p> +<p class="poetry">A new bowl brimming with a draught divine,<br +/> + One single taste thrilled to the finger-tips?<br /> + Think you I even care to bathe my lips<br /> +With this poor sweetened water you call wine?</p> +<p class="poetry">And though I spilled the nectar ere ’twas +quaffed,<br /> + And broke the bowl in wanton folly, yet<br /> + I would die of my thirst ere I would wet<br /> +My burning lips with any meaner draught.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +145</span>So leave me, Romney. One who has seen a play<br +/> + Enacted by a star cannot endure<br /> + To see it rendered by an amateur.<br /> +You know not what Love is—now go away!</p> +<h2><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 146</span>MY +HOME</h2> +<p class="poetry">This is the place that I love the best,<br /> +A little brown house like a ground-bird’s nest,<br /> +Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees,<br /> +Summer retreat of the birds and bees.</p> +<p class="poetry">The tenderest light that ever was seen<br /> +Sifts through the vine-made window screen—<br /> +Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls<br /> +On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls.</p> +<p class="poetry">All through June, the west wind free<br /> +The breath of the clover brings to me.<br /> +All through the languid July day<br /> +I catch the scent of the new-mown hay.</p> +<p class="poetry">The morning glories and scarlet vine<br /> +Over the doorway twist and twine;<br /> +And every day, when the house is still,<br /> +The humming-bird comes to the window-sill.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>In the cunningest chamber under the sun<br /> +I sink to sleep when the day is done;<br /> +And am waked at morn, in my snow-white bed,<br /> +By a singing-bird on the roof o’erhead.</p> +<p class="poetry">Better than treasures brought from Rome<br /> +Are the living pictures I see at home—<br /> +My aged father, with frosted hair,<br /> +And mother’s face like a painting rare<br /> +Far from the city’s dust and heat,<br /> +I get but sounds and odours sweet.<br /> +Who can wonder I love to stay,<br /> +Week after week, here hidden away,<br /> +In this sly nook that I love the best—<br /> +The little brown house, like a ground-bird’s nest?</p> +<h2><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 148</span>TO +MARRY OR NOT TO MARRY?<br /> +<span class="smcap">A Girl’s Reverie</span></h2> +<p class="poetry">Mother says, “Be in no hurry,<br /> +Marriage oft means care and worry.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Auntie says, with manner grave,<br /> +“Wife is synonym for slave.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Father asks, in tones commanding,<br /> +“How does Bradstreet rate his standing?”</p> +<p class="poetry">Sister crooning to her twins,<br /> +Sighs, “With marriage care begins.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Grandma, near life’s closing days,<br /> +Murmurs, “Sweet are girlhood’s ways.”</p> +<p class="poetry">Maud, twice widowed (“sod and +grass”)<br /> +Looks at me and moans “Alas!”</p> +<p class="poetry">They are six, and I am one,<br /> +Life for me has just begun.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +149</span>They are older, calmer, wiser:<br /> +Age should aye be youth’s adviser.</p> +<p class="poetry">They must know—and yet, dear me,<br /> +When in Harry’s eyes I see</p> +<p class="poetry">All the world of love there burning—<br +/> +On my six advisers turning,</p> +<p class="poetry">I make answer, “Oh, but Harry<br /> +Is not like most men who marry.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Fate has offered me a prize,<br /> +Life with love means Paradise.</p> +<p class="poetry">“Life without it is not worth<br /> +All the foolish joys of earth.”</p> +<p class="poetry">So, in spite of all they say,<br /> +I shall name the wedding day.</p> +<h2><a name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 150</span>AN +AFTERNOON</h2> +<p class="poetry">I am stirred by the dream of an afternoon<br /> +Of a perfect day—though it was not June;<br /> +The lilt of winds, and the droning tune<br /> + That a busy city was humming.</p> +<p class="poetry">And a bronze-brown head, and lips like wine<br +/> +Leaning out through the window-vine<br /> +A-list for steps that were maybe mine—<br /> + Eager steps that were coming.</p> +<p class="poetry">I can see it all, as a dreamer may—<br /> +The tender smile on your lips that day,<br /> +And the glow on your cheek as we rode away<br /> + Into the golden weather.</p> +<p class="poetry">And a love-light shone in your eyes of +brown—<br /> +I swear there did!—as we drove down<br /> +The crowded avenue out of the town,<br /> + Through shadowy lanes, together:</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +151</span>Drove out into the sunset-skies<br /> +That glowed with wonderful crimson dyes;<br /> +And with soul and spirit, and heart and eyes,<br /> + We silently drank their splendour.</p> +<p class="poetry">But the golden glory that lit the place<br /> +Was not alone from the sunset’s grace—<br /> +For I saw in your fair, uplifted face<br /> + A light that was wondrously tender.</p> +<p class="poetry">I say I saw it. And yet to-day<br /> +I ask myself, in a cynical way,<br /> +Was it only a part you had learned to play,<br /> + To see me act the lover?</p> +<p class="poetry">And I curse myself for a fool. And yet<br +/> +I would willingly die without one regret<br /> +Could I bring back the day whose sun has set—<br /> + And you—and live it over.</p> +<h2><a name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +152</span>RIVER AND SEA</h2> +<p class="poetry">We stood by the river that swept<br /> + In its glory and grandeur away;<br /> +But never a pulse o’ me leapt,<br /> + And you wondered at me that day.</p> +<p class="poetry">We stood by the lake as it lay<br /> + With its dimpled face turned to the light;<br /> +Was it strange I had nothing to say<br /> + To so fair and enchanting a sight?</p> +<p class="poetry">I look on your tresses of gold—<br /> + You are fair and a thing to be loved—<br /> +Do you think I am heartless and cold<br /> + That I look and am wholly unmoved?</p> +<p class="poetry">One answer, dear friend, I will make<br /> + To the questions your eyes ask of me:<br /> +“Talk not of the river or lake<br /> + To those who have looked on the sea”</p> +<h2><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>WHAT +HAPPENS?</h2> +<p class="poetry">When thy hand touches mine, through all the +mesh<br /> + Of intricate and interlacèd veins<br /> + Shoot swift delights that border on keen pains:<br +/> +Flesh thrills to thrilling flesh.</p> +<p class="poetry">When in thine eager eyes I look to find<br /> + A comrade to my thought, thy ready brain<br /> + Delves down and makes its inmost meaning plain:<br +/> +Mind answers unto mind.</p> +<p class="poetry">When hands and eyes are hid by seas that +roll<br /> + Wide wastes between us, still so near thou art<br /> + I count the very pulses of thy heart:<br /> +Soul speaketh unto soul.</p> +<p class="poetry">So every law, or human or divine,<br /> +In heart and brain and spirit makes thee mine.</p> +<h2><a name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +154</span>POSSESSION</h2> +<p class="poetry">That which we had we still possess,<br /> + Though leaves may drop and stars may fall;<br /> +No circumstance can make it less,<br /> + Or take it from us, all in all.</p> +<p class="poetry">That which is lost we did not own;<br /> + We only held it for a day—<br /> +A leaf by careless breezes blown;<br /> + No fate could take our own away.</p> +<p class="poetry">I hold it as a changeless law<br /> + From which no soul can sway or swerve,<br /> +We have that in us which will draw<br /> + Whate’er we need or most deserve.</p> +<p class="poetry">Even as the magnet to the steel<br /> + Our souls are to our best desires;<br /> +The Fates have hearts and they can feel—<br /> + They know what each true life requires.</p> +<p class="poetry"><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +155</span>We think we lose when we most gain;<br /> + We call joys ended ere begun;<br /> +When stars fade out do skies complain,<br /> + Or glory in the rising sun?</p> +<p class="poetry">No fate could rob us of our own—<br /> + No circumstance can make it less;<br /> +What time removes was but a loan,<br /> + For what was ours we still possess.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> + +<div class="gapmediumline"> </div> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>Printed by Hazell</i>, <i>Watson +& Viney</i>, <i>Ld.</i>, <i>London and Aylesbury</i>.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS OF CHEER***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3238-h.htm or 3238-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/2/3/3238 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at + www.gutenberg.org/license. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 +North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email +contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the +Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. +</pre></body> +</html> diff --git a/3238-h/images/coverb.jpg b/3238-h/images/coverb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..32b9a95 --- /dev/null +++ b/3238-h/images/coverb.jpg diff --git a/3238-h/images/covers.jpg b/3238-h/images/covers.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..853c154 --- /dev/null +++ b/3238-h/images/covers.jpg diff --git a/3238-h/images/tpb.jpg b/3238-h/images/tpb.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3831110 --- /dev/null +++ b/3238-h/images/tpb.jpg diff --git a/3238-h/images/tps.jpg b/3238-h/images/tps.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..dde9a51 --- /dev/null +++ b/3238-h/images/tps.jpg |
