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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.12.12.00*END* + + + + + +This etext was produced from the 1914 Gay and Hancock edition by +David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +POEMS OF CHEER + +by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + + + + +CONTENTS + +Worth while +The House of Life +A Song of Life +Prayer +In the Long Run +As you go through Life +Two Sunsets +Unrest +Artist's life +Nothing but Stones +Inevitable +The Ocean of Song +"It might have been" +Momus, God of Laughter +I Dream +The Sonnet +The Past +A Dream +Uselessness +Will +Winter Rain +Life +Burdened +Let them go +Five Kisses +Retrospection +Helena +Nothing Remains +Comrades +What Gain? +To the West +The Land of Content +Warning +After the Battles are over +And they are dumb +Night +All for me +Into Space +Through Dim Eyes +The Punished +Half Fledged +The Year +The Unattained +In the crowd +Life and I +Guerdon +Snowed Under +"Leudemanns-on-the-river" +Little Blue Hood +No Spring +Midsummer +A Reminiscence +A Girl's Faith +Two +Slipping Away +Is it done? +A Leaf +Aesthetic +Poems of the Week +Ghosts +Fleeing away +All mad +Hidden Gems +By-and-bye +Over the May Hill +Foes +Friendship +Two sat down +Bound and free +Aquileia +Wishes for a little girl +Romney +My Home +To marry or not to marry? +An Afternoon +River and Sea +What happens? +Possession + + +This 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. + +ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. +April 12th, 1910. + +I step across the mystic border-land, +And look upon the wonder-world of Art. +How beautiful, how beautiful its hills! +And all its valleys, how surpassing fair! + +The winding paths that lead up to the heights +Are polished by the footsteps of the great. +The mountain-peaks stand very near to God: +The chosen few whose feet have trod thereon +Have talked with Him, and with the angels walked. + +Here are no sounds of discord--no profane +Or senseless gossip of unworthy things - +Only the songs of chisels and of pens, +Of busy brushes, and ecstatic strains +Of souls surcharged with music most divine. +Here is no idle sorrow, no poor grief +For any day or object left behind - +For time is counted precious, and herein +Is such complete abandonment of Self +That tears turn into rainbows, and enhance +The beauty of the land where all is fair. +Awed and afraid, I cross the border-land. +Oh, who am I, that I dare enter here +Where the great artists of the world have trod - +The genius-crowned aristocrats of Earth? +Only the singer of a little song; +Yet loving Art with such a mighty love +I hold it greater to have won a place +Just on the fair land's edge, to make my grave, +Than in the outer world of greed and gain +To sit upon a royal throne and reign. + + + +WORTH WHILE + + + +It is easy enough to be pleasant + When life flows by like a song, +But the man worth while is the one who will smile + When everything goes dead wrong. +For the test of the heart is trouble, + And it always comes with the years, +And the smile that is worth the praises of earth + Is the smile that shines through tears. + +It is easy enough to be prudent + When nothing tempts you to stray, +When without or within no voice of sin + Is luring your soul away; +But it's only a negative virtue + Until it is tried by fire, +And the life that is worth the honour on earth + Is the one that resists desire. + +By the cynic, the sad, the fallen, + Who had no strength for the strife, +The world's highway is cumbered to-day - + They make up the sum of life; +But the virtue that conquers passion, + And the sorrow that hides in a smile - +It is these that are worth the homage on earth, + For we find them but once in a while. + + + +THE HOUSE OF LIFE + + + +All wondering, and eager-eyed, within her portico +I made my plea to Hostess Life, one morning long ago. + +"Pray show me this great house of thine, nor close a single door; +But let me wander where I will, and climb from floor to floor! + +For many rooms, and curious things, and treasures great and small +Within your spacious mansion lie, and I would see them all." + +Then Hostess Life turned silently, her searching gaze on me, +And with no word, she reached her hand, and offered up the key. + +It opened first the door of Hope, and long I lingered there, +Until I spied the room of Dreams, just higher by a stair. + +And then a door whereon the one word "Happiness" was writ; +But when I tried the little key I could not make it fit. + +It turned the lock of Pleasure's room, where first all seemed so +bright - +But after I had stayed awhile it somehow lost its light. + +And wandering down a lonely hall, I came upon a room +Marked "Duty," and I entered it--to lose myself in gloom. + +Along the shadowy halls I groped my weary way about, +And found that from dull Duty's room, a door of Toil led out. + +It led out to another door, whereon a crimson stain +Made sullenly against the dark these words: "The Room of Pain." + +But oh the light, the light, the light, that spilled down from above +And upward wound, the stairs of Faith, right to the Tower of Love! + +And when I came forth from that place, I tried the little key - +And lo! the door of Happiness swung open, wide and free. + + + +A SONG OF LIFE + + + +In the rapture of life and of living, + I lift up my heart and rejoice, +And I thank the great Giver for giving + The soul of my gladness a voice. +In the glow of the glorious weather, + In the sweet-scented, sensuous air, +My burdens seem light as a feather - + They are nothing to bear. + +In the strength and the glory of power, + In the pride and the pleasure of wealth +(For who dares dispute me my dower + Of talents and youth-time and health?), +I can laugh at the world and its sages - + I am greater than seers who are sad, +For he is most wise in all ages + Who knows how to be glad. + +I lift up my eyes to Apollo, + The god of the beautiful days, +And my spirit soars off like a swallow, + And is lost in the light of its rays. +Are you troubled and sad? I beseech you + Come out of the shadows of strife - +Come out in the sun while I teach you + The secret of life. + +Come out of the world--come above it - + Up over its crosses and graves, +Though the green earth is fair and I love it, + We must love it as masters, not slaves. +Come up where the dust never rises - + But only the perfume of flowers - +And your life shall be glad with surprises + Of beautiful hours. +Come up where the rare golden wine is + Apollo distills in my sight, +And your life shall be happy as mine is, + And as full of delight. + + + +PRAYER + + + +I do not undertake to say + That literal answers come from Heaven, +But I know this--that when I pray + A comfort, a support is given +That helps me rise o'er earthly things +As larks soar up on airy wings. + +In vain the wise philosopher + Points out to me my fabric's flaws, +In vain the scientists aver + That "all things are controlled by laws." +My life has taught me day by day +That it availeth much to pray. + +I do not stop to reason out + The why and how. I do not care, +Since I know this, that when I doubt, + Life seems a blackness of despair, +The world a tomb; and when I trust, +Sweet blossoms spring up in the dust. + +Since I know in the darkest hour, + If I lift up my soul in prayer, +Some sympathetic, loving Power + Sends hope and comfort to me there. +Since balm is sent to ease my pain, +What need to argue or explain? + +Prayer has a sweet, refining grace, + It educates the soul and heart. +It lends a lustre to the face, + And by its elevating art +It gives the mind an inner sight +That brings it near the Infinite. + +From our gross selves it helps us rise + To something which we yet may be. +And so I ask not to be wise, + If thus my faith is lost to me. +Faith, that with angel's voice and touch +Says, "Pray, for prayer availeth much." + + + +IN THE LONG RUN + + + +In the long run fame finds the deserving man. + The lucky wight may prosper for a day, +But in good time true merit leads the van + And vain pretence, unnoticed, goes its way. +There is no Chance, no Destiny, no Fate, +But Fortune smiles on those who work and wait, + In the long run. + +In the long run all godly sorrow pays, + There is no better thing than righteous pain, +The sleepless nights, the awful thorn-crowned days, + Bring sure reward to tortured soul and brain. +Unmeaning joys enervate in the end, +But sorrow yields a glorious dividend + In the long run. + +In the long run all hidden things are known, + The eye of truth will penetrate the night, +And good or ill, thy secret shall be known, + However well 'tis guarded from the light. +All the unspoken motives of the breast +Are fathomed by the years and stand confess'd + In the long run. + +In the long run all love is paid by love, + Though undervalued by the hosts of earth; +The great eternal Government above + Keeps strict account and will redeem its worth. +Give thy love freely; do not count the cost; +So beautiful a thing was never lost + In the long run. + + + +AS YOU GO THROUGH LIFE + + + +Don't look for the flaws as you go through life; + And even when you find them, +It is wise and kind to be somewhat blind, + And look for the virtue behind them; +For the cloudiest night has a hint of light + Somewhere in its shadows hiding; +It's better by far to hunt for a star, + Than the spots on the sun abiding. + +The current of life runs ever away + To the bosom of God's great ocean. +Don't set your force 'gainst the river's course, + And think to alter its motion. +Don't waste a curse on the universe, + Remember, it lived before you; +Don't butt at the storm with your puny form, + But bend and let it go o'er you. + +The world will never adjust itself + To suit your whims to the letter, +Some things must go wrong your whole life long, + And the sooner you know it the better. +It is folly to fight with the Infinite, + And go under at last in the wrestle. +The wiser man shapes into God's plan, + As water shapes into a vessel. + + + +TWO SUNSETS + + + +In the fair morning of his life, + When his pure heart lay in his breast, + Panting, with all that wild unrest +To plunge into the great world's strife + +That fills young hearts with mad desire, + He saw a sunset. Red and gold + The burning billows surged and rolled, +And upward tossed their caps of fire. + +He looked. And as he looked, the sight + Sent from his soul through breast and brain + Such intense joy, it hurt like pain. +His heart seemed bursting with delight. + +So near the Unknown seemed, so close + He might have grasped it with his hands + He felt his inmost soul expand, +As sunlight will expand a rose + +One day he heard a singing strain - + A human voice, in bird-like trills. + He paused, and little rapture-rills +Went trickling downward through each vein. + +And in his heart the whole day long, + As in a temple veiled and dim, + He kept and bore about with him +The beauty of that singer's song. + +And then? But why relate what then? + His smouldering heart flamed into fire - + He had his one supreme desire, +And plunged into the world of men. + +For years queen Folly held her sway. + With pleasures of the grosser kind + She fed his flesh and drugged his mind, +Till, shamed, he sated, turned away. + +He sought his boyhood's home. + That hour Triumphant should have been, in sooth, + Since he went forth, an unknown youth, +And came back crowned with wealth and power. + +The clouds made day a gorgeous bed; + He saw the splendour of the sky + With unmoved heart and stolid eye; +He only knew the West was red. + +Then suddenly a fresh young voice + Rose, bird-like, from some hidden place, + He did not even turn his face - +It struck him simply as a noise. + +He trod the old paths up and down. + Their rich-hued leaves by Fall winds whirled - + How dull they were--how dull the world - +Dull even in the pulsing town. + +O! worst of punishments, that brings + A blunting of all finer sense, + A loss of feelings keen, intense, +And dulls us to the higher things. + +O! penalty most dire, most sure, + Swift following after gross delights, + That we no more see beauteous sights, +Or hear as hear the good and pure. + +O! shape more hideous and more dread + Than Vengeance takes in creed-taught minds, + This certain doom that blunts and blinds, +And strikes the holiest feelings dead. + + + +UNREST + + + +In the youth of the year, when the birds were building, + When the green was showing on tree and hedge, +And the tenderest light of all lights was gilding + The world from zenith to outermost edge, +My soul grew sad and longingly lonely! + I sighed for the season of sun and rose, +And I said, "In the Summer and that time only + Lies sweet contentment and blest repose." + +With bee and bird for her maids of honour + Came Princess Summer in robes of green. +And the King of day smiled down upon her + And wooed her, and won her, and made her queen. +Fruit of their union and true love's pledges, + Beautiful roses bloomed day by day, +And rambled in gardens and hid in hedges + Like royal children in sportive play. + +My restless soul for a little season + Revelled in rapture of glow and bloom, +And then, like a subject who harbours treason, + Grew full of rebellion and grey with gloom. +And I said, "I am sick of the summer's blisses, + Of warmth and beauty, and nothing more. +The full fruition my sad soul misses + That beauteous Fall-time holds in store!" + +But now when the colours are almost blinding, + Burning and blending on bush and tree, +And the rarest fruits are mine for the finding, + And the year is ripe as a year can be, +My soul complains in the same old fashion; + Crying aloud in my troubled breast +Is the same old longing, the same old passion. + O where is the treasure which men call rest? + + + +"ARTIST'S LIFE" + + + +Of all the waltzes the great Strauss wrote, + Mad with melody, rhythm--rife +From the very first to the final note. + Give me his "Artist's Life!" + +It stirs my blood to my finger-ends, + Thrills me and fills me with vague unrest, +And all that is sweetest and saddest blends + Together within my breast. + +It brings back that night in the dim arcade, + In love's sweet morning and life's best prime, +When the great brass orchestra played and played, + And set our thoughts to rhyme. + +It brings back that Winter of mad delights, + Of leaping pulses and tripping feet, +And those languid moon-washed Summer nights + When we heard the band in the street. + +It brings back rapture and glee and glow, + It brings back passion and pain and strife, +And so of all the waltzes I know, + Give me the "Artist's Life." + +For it is so full of the dear old time - + So full of the dear old friends I knew. +And under its rhythm, and lilt, and rhyme, + I am always finding--YOU. + + + +NOTHING BUT STONES + + + +I think I never passed so sad an hour, + Dear friend, as that one at the church to-night. +The edifice from basement to the tower + Was one resplendent blaze of coloured light. +Up through broad aisles the stylish crowd was thronging, + Each richly robed like some king's bidden guest. +"Here will I bring my sorrow and my longing," + I said, "and here find rest." + +I heard the heavenly organ's voice of thunder, + It seemed to give me infinite relief. +I wept. Strange eyes looked on in well-bred wonder. + I dried my tears: their gaze profaned my grief. +Wrapt in the costly furs, and silks, and laces, + Beat alien hearts, that had no part with me. +I could not read, in all those proud cold faces, + One thought of sympathy. + +I watched them bowing and devoutly kneeling, + Heard their responses like sweet waters roll +But only the glorious organ's sacred pealing + Seemed gushing from a full and fervent soul. +I listened to the man of holy calling, + He spoke of creeds, and hailed his own as best; +Of man's corruption and of Adam's-falling, + But naught that gave me rest: + +Nothing that helped me bear the daily grinding + Of soul with body, heart with heated brain; +Nothing to show the purpose of this blinding + And sometimes overwhelming sense of pain. +And then, dear friend, I thought of thee, so lowly, + So unassuming, and so gently kind, +And lo! a peace, a calm serene and holy, + Settled upon my mind. + +Ah, friend, my friend! one true heart, fond and tender, + That understands our troubles and our needs, +Brings us more near to God than all the splendour + And pomp of seeming worship and vain creeds. +One glance of thy dear eyes so full of feeling, + Doth bring me closer to the Infinite +Than all that throng of worldly people kneeling + In blaze of gorgeous light. + + + +INEVITABLE + + + +To-day I was so weary and I lay + In that delicious state of semi-waking, +When baby, sitting with his nurse at play, + Cried loud for "mamma," all his toys forsaking. + +I was so weary and I needed rest, + And signed to nurse to bear him from the room. +Then, sudden, rose and caught him to my breast, + And kissed the grieving mouth and cheeks of bloom. + +For swift as lightning came the thought to me, + With pulsing heart-throes and a mist of tears, +Of days inevitable, that are to be, + If my fair darling grows to manhood's years; + +Days when he will not call for "mamma," when + The world, with many a pleasure and bright joy, +Shall tempt him forth into the haunts of men + And I shall lose the first place with my boy; + +When other homes and loves shall give delight, + When younger smiles and voices will seem best. +And so I held him to my heart to-night, + Forgetting all my need of peace and rest. + + + +THE OCEAN OF SONG + + + +In a land beyond sight or conceiving, + In a land where no blight is, no wrong, +No darkness, no graves, and no grieving, + There lies the great ocean of song. +And its waves, oh, its waves unbeholden + By any save gods, and their kind, +Are not blue, are not green, but are golden, + Like moonlight and sunlight combined. + +It was whispered to me that their waters + Were made from the gathered-up tears +That were wept by the sons and the daughters + Of long-vanished eras and spheres. +Like white sands of heaven the spray is + That falls all the happy day long, +And whoever it touches straightway is + Made glad with the spirit of song. + +Up, up to the clouds where their hoary + Crowned heads melt away in the skies, +The beautiful mountains of glory + Each side of the song-ocean rise. +Here day is one splendour of sky-light - + Of God's light with beauty replete. +Here night is not night, but is twilight, + Pervading, enfolding, and sweet. + +Bright birds from all climes and all regions, + That sing the whole glad summer long, +Are dumb, till they flock here in legions + And lave in the ocean of song. +It is here that the four winds of heaven, + The winds that do sing and rejoice, +It is here they first came and were given + The secret of sound and a voice. + +Far down along beautiful beeches, + By night and by glorious day, +The throng of the gifted ones reaches, + Their foreheads made white with the spray, +And a few of the sons and the daughters + Of this kingdom, cloud-hidden from sight, +Go down in the wonderful waters, + And bathe in those billows of light. + +And their souls evermore are like fountains, + And liquid and lucent and strong, +High over the tops of the mountains + Gush up the sweet billows of song. +No drouth-time of waters can dry them. + Whoever has bathed in that sea, +All dangers, all deaths, they defy them, + And are gladder than gods are, with glee. + + + +"IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN" + + + +We will be what we could be. Do not say, + "It might have been, had not or that, or this." +No fate can keep us from the chosen way; + He only might, who IS. + +We will do what we could do. Do not dream + Chance leaves a hero, all uncrowned to grieve. +I hold, all men are greatly what they seem; + He does, who could achieve. + +We will climb where we could climb. Tell me not + Of adverse storms that kept thee from the height. +What eagle ever missed the peak he sought? + He always climbs who might. + +I do not like the phrase, "It might have been!" + It lacks all force, and life's best truths perverts +For I believe we have, and reach, and win, + Whatever our deserts. + + + +MOMUS, GOD OF LAUGHTER + + + +Though with gods the world is cumbered, +Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered, +Never god was known to be +Who had not his devotee. +So I dedicate to mine, +Here in verse, my temple-shrine. + +'Tis not Ares,--mighty Mars, +Who can give success in wars. +'Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep +Guard above us while we sleep, +'Tis not Venus, she whose duty +'Tis to give us love and beauty; +Hail to these, and others, after +Momus, gleesome god of laughter. + +Quirinus would guard my health, +Plutus would insure me wealth; +Mercury looks after trade, +Hera smiles on youth and maid. +All are kind, I own their worth, +After Momus, god of mirth. + +Though Apollo, out of spite, +Hides away his face of light, +Though Minerva looks askance, +Deigning me no smiling glance, +Kings and queens may envy me +While I claim the god of glee. + +Wisdom wearies, Love has wings - +Wealth makes burdens, Pleasure stings, +Glory proves a thorny crown - +So all gifts the gods throw down +Bring their pains and troubles after; +All save Momus, god of laughter. +He alone gives constant joy. +Hail to Momus, happy boy. + + + +I DREAM + + + +Oh, I have dreams. I sometimes dream of Life + In the full meaning of that splendid word. + Its subtle music which few men have heard, +Though all may hear it, sounding through earth's strife. +Its mountain heights by mystic breezes kissed + Lifting their lovely peaks above the dust; + Its treasures which no touch of time can rust, +Its emerald seas, its dawns of amethyst, + Its certain purpose, its serene repose, + Its usefulness, that finds no hour for woes, + This is my dream of Life. + +Yes, I have dreams. I ofttimes dream of Love + As radiant and brilliant as a star. + As changeless, too, as that fixed light afar +Which glorifies vast worlds of space above. +Strong as the tempest when it holds its breath, + Before it bursts in fury; and as deep + As the unfathomed seas, where lost worlds sleep, +And sad as birth, and beautiful as death. + As fervent as the fondest soul could crave, + Yet holy as the moonlight on a grave. + This is my dream of Love. + +Yes, yes, I dream. One oft-recurring dream + Is beautiful and comforting and blest, + Complete with certain promises of rest, +Divine content, and ecstasy supreme. +When that strange essence, author of all faith, + That subtle something, which cries for the light, + Like a lost child who wanders in the night, +Shall solve the mighty mystery of Death, + Shall find eternal progress, or sublime + And satisfying slumber for all time. + This is my dream of Death. + + + +THE SONNET + + + +Alone it stands in Poesy's fair land, + A temple by the muses set apart; + A perfect structure of consummate art, +By artists builded and by genius planned, +Beyond the reach of the apprentice hand, + Beyond the ken of the untutored heart, + Like a fine carving in a common mart, +Only the favoured few will understand. +A chef d'auvre toiled over with great care, + Yet which the unseeing careless crowd goes by, +A plainly set, but well-cut solitaire, +An ancient bit of pottery, too rare + To please or hold aught save the special eye, +These only with the sonnet can compare. + + + +THE PAST + + + +Fling my past behind me, like a robe +Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date. +I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep +And dwell up on its beauty, and its dyes +Of Oriental splendour, or complain +That I must needs discard it? I can weave +Upon the shuttles of the future years +A fabric far more durable. Subdued, +It may be, in the blending of its hues, +Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam +Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through, +While over all a fadeless lustre lies, +And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears, +My new robe shall be richer than the old. + + + +A DREAM + + + +That was a curious dream; I thought the three + Great planets that are drawing near the sun + With such unerring certainty begun +To talk together in a mighty glee. +They spoke of vast convulsions which would be + Throughout the solar system--the rare fun + Of watching haughty stars drop, one by one, +And vanish in a seething vapour sea. + +I thought I heard them comment on the earth - + That small dark object--doomed beyond a doubt. + They wondered if live creatures moved about +Its tiny surface, deeming it of worth. + And then they laughed--'twas such a singing shout +That I awoke and joined too in their mirth. + + + +USELESSNESS + + + +Let mine not be that saddest fate of all + To live beyond my greater self; to see + My faculties decaying, as the tree +Stands stark and helpless while its green leaves fall. +Let me hear rather the imperious call, + Which all men dread, in my glad morning time, + And follow death ere I have reached my prime, +Or drunk the strengthening cordial of life's gall. +The lightning's stroke or the fierce tempest blast + Which fells the green tree to the earth to-day +Is kinder than the calm that lets it last, + Unhappy witness of its own decay. + May no man ever look on me and say, +"She lives, but all her usefulness is past." + + + +WILL + + + +There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, +Can circumvent or hinder or control +The firm resolve of a determined soul. +Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great; +All things give way before it, soon or late. + What obstacle can stay the mighty force + Of the sea-seeking river in its course, +Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait? + +Each well-born soul must win what it deserves. +Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate + Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves, + Whose slightest action or inaction serve. +The one great aim. + Why, even Death stands still, +And waits an hour sometimes for such a will. + + + +WINTER RAIN + + + +Falling upon the frozen world last +I heard the slow beat of the Winter rain - +Poor foolish drops, down-dripping all in vain; +The ice-bound Earth but mocked their puny might, +Far better had the fixedness of white +And uncomplaining snows--which make no sign, +But coldly smile, when pitying moonbeams shine - +Concealed its sorrow from all human sight. +Long, long ago, in blurred and burdened years, +I learned the uselessness of uttered woe. +Though sinewy Fate deals her most skilful blow, + I do not waste the gall now of my tears, + But feed my pride upon its bitter, while +I look straight in the world's bold eyes, and smile. + + + +LIFE + + + +Life, like a romping schoolboy, full of glee, +Doth bear us on his shoulder for a time. +There is no path too steep for him to climb. +With strong, lithe limbs, as agile and as free, +As some young roe, he speeds by vale and sea, + By flowery mead, by mountain peak sublime, + And all the world seems motion set to rhyme, +Till, tired out, he cries, "Now carry me!" + In vain we murmur; "Come," Life says, "Fair play!" +And seizes on us. God! he goads us so! + He does not let us sit down all the day. +At each new step we feel the burden grow, +Till our bent backs seem breaking as we go, + Watching for Death to meet us on the way. + + + +BURDENED + + + +"Genius, a man's weapon, a woman's burden."--Lamartine. + +Dear God! there is no sadder fate in life + Than to be burdened so that you can not + Sit down contented with the common lot +Of happy mother and devoted wife. + +To feel your brain wild and your bosom rife + With all the sea's commotion; to be fraught + With fires and frenzies which you have not sought, +And weighed down with the wild world's weary strife; + +To feel a fever always in your breast; + To lean and hear, half in affright, half shame, + A loud-voiced public boldly mouth your name; +To reap your hard-sown harvest in unrest, + And know, however great your meed of fame, +You are but a weak woman at the best. + + + +LET THEM GO + + + +Let the dream go. Are there not other dreams + In vastness of clouds hid from thy sight +That yet shall gild with beautiful gold gleams, + And shoot the shadows through and through with light? + What matters one lost vision of the night? + Let the dream go!! + +Let the hope set. Are there not other hopes + That yet shall rise like new stars in thy sky? +Not long a soul in sullen darkness gropes + Before some light is lent it from on high; + What folly to think happiness gone by! + Let the hope set! + +Let the joy fade. Are there not other joys, + Like frost-bound bulbs, that yet shall start and bloom? +Severe must be the winter that destroys + The hardy roots locked in their silent tomb. + What cares the earth for her brief time of gloom + Let the joy fade! + +Let the love die. Are there not other loves + As beautiful and full of sweet unrest, +Flying through space like snowy-pinioned doves? + They yet shall come and nestle in thy breast, +And thou shalt say of each, "Lo, this is best!" + Let the love die! + + + +FIVE KISSES + + + +I--THE MOTHER'S KISS + +Love breathed a secret to her listening heart, + And said "Be silent." Though she guarded it, +And dwelt as one within a world apart, + Yet sun and star seemed by that secret lit. +And where she passed, each whispering wind ablow, + And every little blossom in the sod, +Called joyously to her, "We know, we know, + For are we not the intimates of God?" +Life grew so radiant, and so opulent, + That when her fragile body and her brain +By mortal throes of agony were rent, + She felt a curious rapture in her pain. +Then, after anguish, came the supreme bliss - +They brought the little baby, for her kiss! + +II--THE BETROTHAL + +There was a little pause between the dances; + Without, somewhere, a tinkling fountain played. +The dusky path was lit by ardent glances + As forth they fared, a lover and a maid. +He chose a nook, from curious eyes well hidden - + All redolent with sweet midsummer charm, +And by the great primeval instinct bidden, + He drew her in the shelter of his arm. +The words that long deep in his heart had trembled +Found sudden utterance; she at first dissembled, + Refused her lips, and half withdrew her hand, +Then murmured "Yes," and yielded, woman fashion, +Her virgin mouth to young love's kiss of passion. + +III--THE BRIDAL KISS + +As fleecy clouds trail back across the skies, + Showing the sweet young moon in azure space, + The lifted veil revealed her shining face - +A sudden wonder to his eager eyes. +In that familiar beauty lurked surprise: + For now the wife stood in the maiden's place - + With conscious dignity, and woman's grace, +And love's large pride grown trebly fair and wise. + +The world receded, leaving them alone. + The universe was theirs, from sphere to sphere, +And life assumed new meaning, and new worth. +Love held no privilege they did not own, + And when they kissed each other without fear, +They understood why God had made the earth. + +IV--DOMESTIC BLISS + +Sequestered in their calm domestic bower, + They sat together. He in manhood's prime +And she a matron in her fullest flower. + The mantel clock gave forth a warning chime. +She put her work aside; his bright cigar + Grew pale, and crumbled in an ashen heap. +The lights went out, save one remaining star + That watched beside the children in their sleep. +She hummed a little song and nestled near, + As side by side they went to their repose. +His arm about her waist, he whispered "Dear," + And pressed his lips upon her mouth's full rose - +The sacred sweetness of their wedded life + Breathed in that kiss of husband and of wife. + +V--OLD AGE + +The young see heaven--but to the old who wait + The final call, the hills of youth arise + More beautiful than shores of Paradise. +Beside a glowing and voracious grate + A dozing couple dream of yesterday; +The islands of a vanished past appear, +Bringing forgotten names and faces near; + While lost in mist, the present fades away. +The fragrant winds of tender memories blow + Across the gardens of the "Used-to-be!" + They smile into each other's eyes, and see +The bride and bridegroom of the long ago. + And tremulous lips, pressed close to faded cheek + Love's silent tale of deathless passion speak. + + + +RETROSPECTION + + + +I look down the lengthening distance + Far back to youth's valley of hope. +How strange seemed the ways of existence, + How infinite life and its scope! + +What dreams, what ambitions came thronging + To people a world of my own! +How the heart in my bosom was longing, + For pleasures and places unknown. + +But the hill-tops of pleasure and beauty + Were covered with mist at the dawn; +And only the rugged road Duty + Shone clear, as my feet wandered on. + +I loved not the path and its leading, + I hated the rocks and the dust; +But a Voice from the Silence was pleading, + It spoke but one syllable--"Trust." + +I saw, as the morning grew older, + The fair flowered hills of delight; +And the feet of my comrades grew bolder, + They hurried away from my sight. + +And when on the pathway I faltered, + And when I rebelled at my fate, +The Voice with assurance unaltered, + Again spoke one syllable--"Wait." + +Along the hard highway I travelled + And saw, with dim vision, how soon +The morning's gold locks were unravelled, + By fingers of amorous noon. + +A turn in the pathway of duty - + I stood in the perfect day's prime, +Close, close to the hillside of beauty + The Voice from the Silence said "Climb" + +The road to the beautiful Regions + Lies ever through Duty's hard way. +Oh ye who go searching in legions, + Know this and be patient to-day. + + + +HELENA + + + +Last night I saw Helena. She whose praise + Of late all men have sounded. She for whom + Young Angus rashly sought a silent tomb +Rather than live without her all his days. + +Wise men go mad who look upon her long, + She is so ripe with dangers. Yet meanwhile + I find no fascination in her smile, +Although I make her theme of this poor song. + +"Her golden tresses?" yes, they may be fair, + And yet to me each shining silken tress + Seems robbed of beauty and all lustreless - +Too many hands have stroked Helena's hair. + +(I know a little maiden so demure + She will not let her one true lover's hands + In playful fondness touch her soft brown bands +So dainty-minded is she, and so pure.) + +"Her great dark eyes that flash like gems at night? + Large, long-lashed eyes and lustrous?" that may be, + And yet they are not beautiful to me. +Too many hearts have sunned in their delight. + +(I mind me of two tender blue eyes, hid + So underneath white curtains, and so veiled + That I have sometimes plead for hours, and failed +To see more than the shyly lifted lid.) + +"Her perfect mouth so liked a carved kiss?" + "Her honeyed-mouth, where hearts do, fly-like, drown?" + I would not taste its sweetness for a crown; +Too many lips have drank its nectared bliss. + +(I know a mouth whose virgin dew, undried, + Lies like a young grape's bloom, untouched and sweet, + And though I plead in passion at her feet, +She would not let me brush it if I died.) + +In vain, Helena! though wise men may vie + For thy rare smile, or die from loss of it, + Armoured by my sweet lady's trust, I sit, +And know thou are not worth her faintest sigh. + + + +NOTHING REMAINS + + + +Nothing remains of unrecorded ages + That lie in the silent cemetery time; +Their wisdom may have shamed our wisest sages, + Their glory may have been indeed sublime. +How weak do seem our strivings after power, + How poor the grandest efforts of our brains, +If out of all we are, in one short hour + Nothing remains. + +Nothing remains but the Eternal Spaces, + Time and decay uproot the forest trees. +Even the mighty mountains leave their places, + And sink their haughty heads beneath strange seas +The great earth writhes in some convulsive spasms + And turns the proudest cities into plains. +The level sea becomes a yawning chasm - + Nothing remains. + +Nothing remains but the Eternal Forces, + The sad seas cease complaining and grow dry, +Rivers are drained and altered in their courses, + Great stars pass out and vanish from the sky. +Ideas die and old religions perish, + Our rarest pleasures and our keenest pains +Are swept away with all we hate or cherish - + Nothing remains. + +Nothing remains but the Eternal Nameless + And all-creative spirit of the Law, +Uncomprehended, comprehensive, blameless, + Invincible, resistless, with no flaw; +So full of love it must create for ever, + Destroying that it may create again, +Persistent and perfecting in endeavour, + It yet must bring forth angels, after men - + This, this remains! + + + +COMRADES + + + +I and my Soul are alone to-day, + All in the shining weather; +We were sick of the world, and put it away, + So we could rejoice together. + +Our host, the Sun, in the blue, blue sky + Is mixing a rare, sweet wine, +In the burnished gold of this cup on high, + For me, and this Soul of mine. + +We find it a safe and royal drink, + And a cure for every pain; +It helps us to love, and helps us to think, + And strengthens body and brain. + +And sitting here, with my Soul alone, + Where the yellow sun-rays fall, +Of all the friends I have ever known + I find it the BEST of all. + +We rarely meet when the world is near, + For the World hath a pleasing art +And brings me so much that is bright and dear + That my Soul it keepeth apart. + +But when I grow weary of mirth and glee, + Of glitter, glow, and splendour, +Like a tried old friend it comes to me, + With a smile that is sad and tender. + +And we walk together as two friends may, + And laugh and drink God's wine. +Oh, a royal comrade any day + I find this Soul of mine. + + + +WHAT GAIN? + + + +Now, while thy rounded cheek is fresh and fair, + While beauty lingers, laughing, in thine eyes, +Ere thy young heart shall meet the stranger, "Care," + Or thy blithe soul become the home of sighs, +Were it not kindness should I give thee rest +By plunging this sharp dagger in thy breast? +Dying so young, with all thy wealth of youth, +What part of life wouldst thou not claim, in sooth? + Only the woe, + Sweetheart, that sad souls know. + +Now, in this sacred hour of supreme trust, + Of pure delight and palpitating joy, +Ere change can come, as come it surely must, + With jarring doubts and discords, to destroy +Our far too perfect peace, I pray thee, Sweet, +Were it not best for both of us, and meet, +If I should bring swift death to seal our bliss? +Dying so full of joy, what could we miss? + Nothing but tears, + Sweetheart, and weary years. + +How slight the action! Just one well-aimed blow + Here, where I feel thy warm heart's pulsing beat, +And then another through my own, and so + Our perfect union would be made complete: +So, past all parting, I should claim thee mine. +Dead with our youth, and faith, and love divine, +Should we not keep the best of life that way? +What shall we gain by living day on day? + What shall we gain, + Sweetheart, but bitter pain? + + + +TO THE WEST + + + +[In an interview with Lawrence Barrett, he said: "The literature of +the New World must look to the West for its poetry."] + +Not to the crowded East, + Where, in a well-worn groove, +Like the harnessed wheel of a great machine, + The trammelled mind must move-- +Where Thought must follow the fashion of Thought, +Or be counted vulgar and set at naught. + +Not to the languid South, + Where the mariners of the brain +Are lured by the Sirens of the Sense, + And wrecked upon its main - +Where Thought is rocked, on the sweet wind's breath +To a torpid sleep that ends in death. + +But to the mighty West, + That chosen realm of God, +Where Nature reaches her hands to men, + And Freedom walks abroad - +Where mind is King, and fashion is naught, +There shall the New World look for thought + +To the West, the beautiful West, + She shall look, and not in vain - +For out of its broad and boundless store + Come muscle, and nerve, and brain. +Let the bards of the East and the South be dumb - +For out of the West shall the Poets come. + +They shall come with souls as great + As the cradle where they were rocked; +They shall come with brows that are touched with fire + Like the gods with whom they have walked; +They shall come from the West in royal state, +The Singers and Thinkers for whom we wait. + + + +THE LAND OF CONTENT + + + +I set out for the Land of Content, + By the gay crowded pleasure-highway, +With laughter, and jesting, I went + With the mirth-loving throng for a day; + Then I knew I had wandered astray, +For I met returned pilgrims, belated, +Who said, "We are weary and sated, +But we found not the Land of Content." + +I turned to the steep path of fame, + I said, "It is over yon height - +This land with the beautiful name - + Ambition will lend me its light." + But I paused in my journey ere night, +For the way grew so lonely and troubled; +I said--my anxiety doubled - +"This is not the road to Content." + +Then I joined the great rabble and throng + That frequents the moneyed world's mart; +But the greed, and the grasping and wrong, + Left me only one wish--to depart. + And sickened, and saddened at heart, +I hurried away from the gateway, +For my soul and my spirit said straightway. +"This is not the road to Content." + +Then weary in body and brain, + An overgrown path I detected, +And I said "I will hide with my pain + In this byway, unused and neglected." + Lo! it led to the realm God selected +To crown with His best gifts of beauty, +And through the dark pathway of duty +I came to the land of Content. + + + +WARNING + + + +High in the heavens I saw the moon this morning, + Albeit the sun shone bright; +Unto my soul it spoke, in voice of warning, + "Remember Night!" + + + +AFTER THE BATTLES ARE OVER + + + +[Read at Reunion of the G. A. T., Madison, Wis., July 4, 1872.] + +After the battles are over, + And the war drums cease to beat, +And no more is heard on the hillside +The sound of hurrying feet, +Full many a noble action, + That was done in the days of strife +By the soldier is half forgotten, + In the peaceful walks of life. + +Just as the tangled grasses, + In Summer's warmth and light, +Grow over the graves of the fallen + And hide them away from sight, +So many an act of valour, + And many a deed sublime, +Fade from the mind of the soldier + O'ergrown by the grass of time + +Not so should they be rewarded, + Those noble deeds of old! +They should live for ever and ever, + When the heroes' hearts are cold. +Then rally, ye brave old comrades, + Old veterans, reunite! +Uproot Time's tangled grasses - + Live over the march, and the fight. + +Let Grant come up from the White House, + And clasp each brother's hand, +First chieftain of the army, + Last chieftain of the land. +Let him rest from a nation's burdens, + And go, in thought, with his men, +Through the fire and smoke of Shiloh, + And save the day again. + +This silent hero of battles + Knew no such word as defeat. +It was left for the rebels' learning, + Along with the word--retreat. +He was not given to talking, + But he found that guns would preach +In a way that was more convincing + Than fine and flowery speech + +Three cheers for the grave commander + Of the grand old Tennessee! +Who won the first great battle - + Gained the first great victory. +His motto was always "Conquer," + "Success" was his countersign, +And "though it took all Summer," + He kept fighting upon "that line." + +Let Sherman, the stern old General, + Come rallying with his men; +Let them march once more through Georgia + And down to the sea again. +Oh! that grand old tramp to Savannah, + Three hundred miles to the coast, +It will live in the heart of the nation, + For ever its pride and boast. + +As Sheridan went to the battle, + When a score of miles away, +He has come to the feast and banquet, + By the iron horse to-day. +Its pace is not much swifter + Than the pace of that famous steed +Which bore him down to the contest + And saved the day by his speed. + +Then go over the ground to-day, boys + Tread each remembered spot. +It will be a gleesome journey, + On the swift-shod feet of thought; +You can fight a bloodless battle, + You can skirmish along the route, +But it's not worth while to forage, + There are rations enough without. + +Don't start if you hear the cannon, + It is not the sound of doom, +It does not call to the contest - + To the battle's smoke and gloom. +"Let us have peace," was spoken, + And lo! peace ruled again; +And now the nation is shouting, + Through the cannon's voice, "Amen." + +O boys who besieged old Vicksburgh, + Can time e'er wash away +The triumph of her surrender, + Nine years ago to-day? +Can you ever forget the moment, + When you saw the flag of white, +That told how the grim old city + Had fallen in her might? + +Ah, 'twas a bold, brave army, + When the boys, with a right good will, +Went gaily marching and singing + To the fight at Champion Hill. +They met with a warm reception, + But the soul of "Old John Brown" +Was abroad on that field of battle, + And our flag did NOT go down. + +Come, heroes of Look Out Mountain, + Of Corinth and Donelson, +Of Kenesaw and Atlanta, + And tell how the day was won! +Hush! bow the head for a moment - + There are those who cannot come. +No bugle-call can arouse them - + No sound of fife or drum. + +Oh, boys who died for the country, + Oh, dear and sainted dead! +What can we say about you + That has not once been said? +Whether you fell in the contest, + Struck down by shot and shell, +Or pined 'neath the hand of sickness + Or starved in the prison cell, + +We know that you died for Freedom, + To save our land from shame, +To rescue a perilled Nation, + And we give you deathless fame. +'Twas the cause of Truth and Justice + That you fought and perished for, +And we say it, oh, so gently, + "Our boys who died in the war." + +Saviours of our Republic, + Heroes who wore the blue, +We owe the peace that surrounds us - + And our Nation's strength to you. +We owe it to you that our banner, + The fairest flag in the world, +Is to-day unstained, unsullied, + On the Summer air unfurled. + +We look on its stripes and spangles, + And our hearts are filled the while +With love for the brave commanders, + And the boys of the rank and file. +The grandest deeds of valour + Were never written out, +The noblest acts of virtue + The world knows nothing about. + +And many a private soldier, + Who walks his humble way, +With no sounding name or title, + Unknown to the world to-day, +In the eyes of God is a hero + As worthy of the bays +As any mighty General + To whom the world gives praise. + +Brave men of a mighty army, + We extend you friendship's hand +I speak for the "Loyal Women," + Those pillars of our land. +We wish you a hearty welcome, + We are proud that you gather here +To talk of old times together + On this brightest day in the year. + +And if Peace, whose snow-white pinions + Brood over our land to-day, +Should ever again go from us, + (God grant she may ever stay!) +Should our Nation call in her peril + For "Six hundred thousand more," +The loyal women would hear her, + And send you out as before. + +We would bring out the treasured knapsack, + We would take the sword from the wall, +And hushing our own hearts' pleadings, + Hear only the country's call. +For next to our God is our Nation; + And we cherish the honoured name +Of the bravest of all brave armies + Who fought for that Nation's fame. + + + +AND THEY ARE DUMB + + + +I have been across the bridges of the years. + Wet with tears +Were the ties on which I trod, going back + Down the track +To the valley where I left, 'neath skies of Truth, + My lost youth. + +As I went, I dropped my burdens, one and all - + Let them fall; +All my sorrows, all my wrinkles, all my care, + My white hair, +I laid down, like some lone pilgrim's heavy pack, + By the track. + +As I neared the happy valley with light feet, + My heart beat +To the rhythm of a song I used to know + Long ago, +And my spirits gushed and bubbled like a fountain + Down a mountain. + +On the border of that valley I found you, + Tried and true; +And we wandered through the golden Summer-Land + Hand in hand. +And my pulses beat with rapture in the blisses + Of your kisses. + +And we met there, in those green and verdant places, + Smiling faces, +And sweet laughter echoed upward from the dells + Like gold bells. +And the world was spilling over with the glory + Of Youth's story. + +It was but a dreamer's journey of the brain; + And again +I have left the happy valley far behind; + And I find +Time stands waiting with his burdens in a pack + For my back. + +As he speeds me, like a rough, well-meaning friend, + To the end, +Will I find again the lost ones loved so well? + Who can tell! +But the dead know what the life will be to come - + And they are dumb! + + + +NIGHT + + + +As some dusk mother shields from all alarms + The tired child she gathers to her breast, +The brunette Night doth fold me in her arms, + And hushes me to perfect peace and rest. +Her eyes of stars shine on me, and I hear +Her voice of winds low crooning on my ear. +O Night, O Night, how beautiful thou art! +Come, fold me closer to thy pulsing heart. + +The day is full of gladness, and the light + So beautifies the common outer things, +I only see with my external sight, + And only hear the great world's voice which rings. +But silently from daylight and from din +The sweet Night draws me--whispers, "Look within!" +And looking, as one wakened from a dream, +I see what IS--no longer what doth seem. + +The Night says, "Listen!" and upon my ear + Revealed, as are the visions to my sight, +The voices known as "Beautiful" come near + And whisper of the vastly Infinite. +Great, blue-eyed Truth, her sister Purity, +Their brother Honour, all converse with me, +And kiss my brow, and say, "Be brave of heart!" +O holy three! how beautiful thou art! + +The Night says, "Child, sleep that thou may'st arise + Strong for to-morrow's struggle." And I feel +Her shadowy fingers pressing on my eyes: + Like thistledown I float to the Ideal - +The Slumberland, made beautiful and bright +As death, by dreams of loved ones gone from sight, +O food for souls, sweet dreams of pure delight, +How beautiful the holy hours of Night! + + + +ALL FOR ME + + + +The world grows green on a thousand hills - + By a thousand willows the bees are humming, +And a million birds by a million rills, + Sing of the golden season coming. +But, gazing out on the sun-kist lea, + And hearing a thrush and a blue-bird singing, +I feel that the summer is all for me, + And all for me are the joys it is bringing. + +All for me the bumble-bee + Drones his song in the perfect weather; +And, just on purpose to sing to me, + Thrush and blue-bird came North together. +Just for me, in red and white, + Bloom and blossom the fields of clover; +And all for me and my delight + The wild Wind follows and plays the lover. + +The mighty sun, with a scorching kiss + (I have read, and heard, and do not doubt it) +Has burned up a thousand worlds like this, + And never stopped to think about it. +And yet I believe he hurries up + Just on purpose to kiss my flowers - +To drink the dew from the lily-cup, + And help it to grow through golden hours. + +I know I am only a speck of dust, + An individual mite of masses, +Clinging upon the outer crust + Of a little ball of cooling gases. +And yet, and yet, say what you will, + And laugh, if you please, at my lack of reason, +For me wholly, and for me still, + Blooms and blossoms the Summer season. + +Nobody else has ever heard + The story the Wind to me discloses; +And none but I and the humming-bird + Can read the hearts of the crimson roses. +Ah, my Summer--my love--my own! + The world grows glad in your smiling weather; +Yet all for me, and me alone, + You and your Court came North together. + + + +INTO SPACE + + + +If the sad old world should jump a cog + Sometime, in its dizzy spinning, +And go off the track with a sudden jog, + What an end would come to the sinning, +What a rest from strife and the burdens of life + For the millions of people in it, +What a way out of care, and worry and wear, + All in a beautiful minute. + +As 'round the sun with a curving sweep + It hurries and runs and races, +Should it lose its balance, and go with a leap + Into the vast sea-spaces, +What a blest relief it would bring to the grief, + And the trouble and toil about us, +To be suddenly hurled from the solar world + And let it go on without us. + +With not a sigh or a sad good-bye + For loved ones left behind us, +We would go with a lunge and a mighty plunge + Where never a grave should find us. +What a wild mad thrill our veins would fill + As the great earth, like a feather, +Should float through the air to God knows where, + And carry us all together. + +No dark, damp tomb and no mourner's gloom, + No tolling bell in the steeple, +But in one swift breath a painless death + For a million billion people. +What greater bliss could we ask than this, + To sweep with a bird's free motion +Through leagues of space to a resting place, + In a vast and vapoury ocean - +To pass away from this life for aye + With never a dear tie sundered, +And a world on fire for a funeral pyre, + While the stars looked on and wondered? + + + +THROUGH DIM EYES + + + +Is it the world, or my eyes, that are sadder? +I see not the grace that I used to see +In the meadow-brook whose song was so glad, or +In the boughs of the willow tree. +The brook runs slower--its song seems lower +And not the song that it sang of old; +And the tree I admired looks weary and tired +Of the changeless story of heat and cold. + +When the sun goes up, and the stars go under, +In that supreme hour of the breaking day, +Is it my eyes, or the dawn, I wonder, +That finds less of the gold, and more of the gray +I see not the splendour, the tints so tender, +The rose-hued glory I used to see; +And I often borrow a vague half-sorrow +That another morning has dawned for me. + +When the royal smile of that welcome comer +Beams on the meadow and burns in the sky, +Is it my eyes, or does the Summer +Bring less of bloom than in days gone by? +The beauty that thrilled me, the rapture that filled me, +To an overflowing of happy tears, +I pass unseeing, my sad eyes being +Dimmed by the shadow of vanished years. + +When the heart grows weary, all things seem dreary; +When the burden grows heavy, the way seems long. +Thank God for sending kind death as an ending, +Like a grand Amen to a minor song. + + + +THE PUNISHED + + + +Not they who know the awful gibbet's anguish, + Not they who, while sad years go by them, in +The sunless cells of lonely prisons languish, + Do suffer fullest penalty for sin. + +'Tis they who walk the highways unsuspected, + Yet with grim fear for ever at their side, +Who hug the corpse of some sin undetected, + A corpse no grave or coffin-lid can hide - + +'Tis they who are in their own chambers haunted + By thoughts that like unbidden guests intrude, +And sit down, uninvited and unwanted, + And make a nightmare of the solitude. + + + +HALF FLEDGED + + + +I feel the stirrings in me of great things. +New half-fledged thoughts rise up and beat their wings, +And tremble on the margin of their nest, +Then flutter back, and hide within my breast. + +Beholding space, they doubt their untried strength. +Beholding men, they fear them. But at length, +Grown all too great and active for the heart +That broods them with such tender mother art, +Forgetting fear, and men, and all, that hour, +Save the impelling consciousness of power +That stirs within them--they shall soar away +Up to the very portals of the Day. + +Oh, what exultant rapture thrills me through +When I contemplate all those thoughts may do; +Like snow-white eagles penetrating space, +They may explore full many an unknown place, +And build their nests on mountain heights unseen, +Whereon doth lie that dreamed-of rest serene. +Stay thou a little longer in my breast, +Till my fond heart shall push thee from the nest +Anxious to see thee soar to heights divine - +Oh, beautiful but half-fledged thoughts of mine. + + + +THE YEAR + + + +What can be said in New Year rhymes, +That's not been said a thousand times? + +The new years come, the old years go, +We know we dream, we dream we know. + +We rise up laughing with the light, +We lie down weeping with the night. + +We hug the world until it stings, +We curse it then and sigh for wings. + +We live, we love, we woo, we wed, +We wreathe our brides, we sheet our dead. + +We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear, +And that's the burden of the year. + + + +THE UNATTAINED + + + +A vision beauteous as the morn, + With heavenly eyes and tresses streaming, +Slow glided o'er a field late shorn + Where walked a poet idly dreaming. +He saw her, and joy lit his face, + "Oh, vanish not at human speaking," +He cried, "thou form of magic grace, + Thou art the poem I am seeking. + +"I've sought thee long! I claim thee now - + My thought embodied, living, real." +She shook the tresses from her brow. + "Nay, nay!" she said, "I am ideal. +I am the phantom of desire - + The spirit of all great endeavour, +I am the voice that says, 'Come higher,' + That calls men up and up for ever. + +"'Tis not alone thy thought supreme + That here upon thy path has risen; +I am the artist's highest dream, + The ray of light he cannot prison. +I am the sweet ecstatic note + Than all glad music gladder, clearer, +That trembles in the singer's throat, + And dies without a human hearer. + +"I am the greater, better yield, + That leads and cheers thy farmer neighbour, +For me he bravely tills the field + And whistles gaily at his labour. +Not thou alone, O poet soul, + Dost seek me through an endless morrow, +But to the toiling, hoping whole + I am at once the hope and sorrow. + +"The spirit of the unattained, + I am to those who seek to name me, +A good desired but never gained: + All shall pursue, but none shall claim me." + + + +IN THE CROWD + + + +How happy they are, in all seeming, + How gay, or how smilingly proud, +How brightly their faces are beaming, + These people who make up the crowd! +How they bow, how they bend, how they flutter, + How they look at each other and smile, +How they glow, and what bon mots they utter! + But a strange thought has found me the while! + +It is odd, but I stand here and fancy + These people who now play a part, +All forced by some strange necromancy + To speak, and to act, from the heart. +What a hush would come over the laughter! + What a silence would fall on the mirth! +And then what a wail would sweep after, + As the night-wind sweeps over the earth! + +If the secrets held under and hidden + In the intricate hearts of the crowd +Were suddenly called to, and bidden + To rise up and cry out aloud, +How strange one would look to another! + Old friends of long standing and years - +Own brothers would not know each other, + Robed new in their sorrows and fears. + +From broadcloth, and velvet, and laces, + Would echo the groans of despair, +And there would be blanching of faces + And wringing of hands and of hair. +That man with his record of honour, + That lady down there with the rose, +That girl with Spring's freshness upon her, + Who knoweth the secrets of those? + +Smile on, O ye maskers, smile sweetly! + Step lightly, bow low and laugh loud! +Though the world is deceived and completely, + I know ye, O sad-hearted crowd! +I watch you with infinite pity: + But play on, play ever your part, +Be gleeful, be joyful, be witty! + 'Tis better than showing the heart. + + + +LIFE AND I + + + +Life and I are lovers, straying + Arm in arm along: +Often like two children Maying, + Full of mirth and song, + +Life plucks all the blooming hours + Growing by the way; +Binds them on my brow like flowers, + Calls me Queen of May. + +Then again, in rainy weather, + We sit vis-a-vis, +Planning work we'll do together + In the years to be. + +Sometimes Life denies me blisses, + And I frown or pout; +But we make it up with kisses + Ere the day is out. + +Woman-like, I sometimes grieve him, + Try his trust and faith, +Saying I shall one day leave him + For his rival, Death. + +Then he always grows more zealous, + Tender, and more true; +Loves the more for being jealous, + As all lovers do. + +Though I swear by stars above him, + And by worlds beyond, +That I love him--love him--love him; + Though my heart is fond; + +Though he gives me, doth my lover, + Kisses with each breath - +I shall one day throw him over, + And plight troth with Death. + + + +GUERDON + + + +Upon the white cheek of the Cherub Year + I saw a tear. +Alas! I murmured, that the Year should borrow + So soon a sorrow. +Just then the sunlight fell with sudden flame: + The tear became +A wondrous diamond sparkling in the light - + A beauteous sight. + +Upon my soul there fell such woeful loss, + I said, "The Cross +Is grievous for a life as young as mine." + Just then, like wine, +God's sunlight shone from His high Heavens down; + And lo! a crown +Gleamed in the place of what I thought a burden - + My sorrow's guerdon. + + + +SNOWED UNDER + + + +Of a thousand things that the Year snowed under - + The busy Old Year who has gone away - +How many will rise in the Spring, I wonder, + Brought to life by the sun of May? +Will the rose-tree branches, so wholly hidden + That never a rose-tree seems to be, +At the sweet Spring's call come forth unbidden, + And bud in beauty, and bloom for me? + +Will the fair green Earth, whose throbbing bosom + Is hid like a maid's in her gown at night, +Wake out of her sleep, and with blade and blossom + Gem her garments to please my sight? +Over the knoll in the valley yonder + The loveliest buttercups bloomed and grew; +When the snow has gone that drifted them under, + Will they shoot up sunward, and bloom anew? + +When wild winds blew, and a sleet-storm pelted, + I lost a jewel of priceless worth; +If I walk that way when snows have melted, + Will the gem gleam up from the bare brown Earth? +I laid a love that was dead or dying, + For the year to bury and hide from sight; +But out of a trance will it waken, crying, + And push to my heart, like a leaf to the light? + +Under the snow lie things so cherished - + Hopes, ambitions, and dreams of men - +Faces that vanished, and trusts that perished, + Never to sparkle and glow again. +The Old Year greedily grasped his plunder, + And covered it over and hurried away: +Of the thousand things that he did, I wonder + How many will rise at the call of May? +O wise Young Year, with your hands held under + Your mantle of ermine, tell me, pray! + + + +"LEUDEMANNS-ON-THE-RIVER." + + + +Toward even, when the day leans down + To kiss the upturned face of night, +Out just beyond the loud-voiced town + I know a spot of calm delight. +Like crimson arrows from a quiver + The red rays pierce the waters flowing, + While we go dreaming, singing, rowing +To Leudemanns-on-the-River. + +The hills, like some glad mocking-bird, + Send back our laughter and our singing, +While faint--and yet more faint is heard + The steeple bells all sweetly ringing. +Some message did the winds deliver + To each glad heart that August night, + All heard, but all heard not aright, +By Leudemanns-on-the-River. + +Night falls as in some foreign clime, + Between the hills that slope and rise. +So dusk the shades at landing-time, + We could not see each other's eyes. +We only saw the moonbeams quiver + Far down upon the stream! that night + The new moon gave but little light +By Leudemanns-on-the-River. + +How dusky were those paths that led + Up from the river to the hall. +The tall trees branching overhead + Invite the early shades that fall. +In all the glad blithe world, oh, never + Were hearts more free from care than when + We wandered through those walks, we ten, +By Leudemanns-on-the-River. + +So soon, so soon, the changes came. + This August day we two alone, +On that same river, not the same, + Dream of a night for ever flown. +Strange distances have come to sever + The hearts that gaily beat in pleasure, + Long miles we cannot cross or measure - +From Leudemanns-on-the-River. + +We'll pluck two leaves, dear friend, to-day. + The green, the russet! seems it strange +So soon, so soon, the leaves can change! + Ah me! so runs all life away. +This night-wind chills me, and I shiver; + The Summer-time is almost past. + One more good-bye--perhaps the last +To Leudemanns-on-the-River. + + + +LITTLE BLUE HOOD + + + +Every morning and every night + There passes our window near the street, +A little girl with an eye so bright, + And a cheek so round and a lip so sweet! +The daintiest, jauntiest little miss +That ever any one longed to kiss, + +She is neat as wax, and fresh to view, + And her look is wholesome, and clean, and good. +Whatever her gown, her hood is blue, + And so we call her our "Little Blue Hood," +For we know not the name of the dear little lass, +But we call to each other to see her pass, + +"Little Blue Hood is coming now!" + And we watch from the window while she goes by, +She has such a bonny, smooth, white brow, + And a fearless look in her long-lashed eye! +And a certain dignity wedded to grace +Seems to envelop her form and face. + +Every morning, in sun or rain, + She walks by the window with sweet, grave air, +And never guesses behind the pane + We two are watching and thinking her fair; +Lovingly watching her down the street, +Dear little Blue Hood, bright and sweet. + +Somebody ties that hood of blue + Under the face so fair to see, +Somebody loves her, beside we two, + Somebody kisses her--why can't we? +Dear Little Blue Hood fresh and fair, +Are you glad we love you, or don't you care? + + + +NO SPRING + + + +Up from the South come the birds that were banished, + Frightened away by the presence of frost. +Back to the vale comes the verdure that vanished, + Back to the forest the leaves that were lost. +Over the hillside the carpet of splendour, + Folded through Winter, Spring spreads down again; +Along the horizon, the tints that were tender, + Lost hues of Summer-time, burn bright as then. + +Only the mountains' high summits are hoary, + To the ice-fettered river the sun gives a key. +Once more the gleaming shore lists to the story + Told by an amorous Summer-kissed sea. +All things revive that in Winter time perished, + The rose buds again in the light o' the sun, +All that was beautiful, all that was cherished, + Sweet things and dear things and all things--save one. + +Late, when the year and the roses were lying + Low with the ruins of Summer and bloom, +Down in the dust fell a love that was dying, + And the snow piled over it, and made it a tomb. +Lo! now the roses are budded for blossom - + Lo! now the Summer is risen again. +Why dost thou bud not, O Love of my bosom? + Why dost thou rise not, and thrill me as then? + +Life without love is a year without Summer, + Heart without love is a wood without song. +Rise then, revive then, thou indolent comer: + Why dost thou lie in the dark earth so long? +Rise! ah, thou can'st not! the rose-tree that sheddest + Its beautiful leaves, in the Springtime may bloom, +But of cold things the coldest, of dead things the deadest, + Love buried once, rises not from the tomb. +Green things may grow on the hillside and heather, + Birds seek the forest and build there and sing. +All things revive in the beautiful weather, + But unto a dead love there cometh no Spring. + + + +MIDSUMMER + + + +After the May time, and after the June time, + Rare with blossoms and perfumes sweet, +Cometh the round world's royal noon time, + The red midsummer of blazing heat. +When the sun, like an eye that never closes, + Bends on the earth its fervid gaze, +And the winds are still, and the crimson roses + Droop and wither and die in its rays. + +Unto my heart has come that season, + O my lady, my worshipped one, +When over the stars of Pride and Reason + Sails Love's cloudless, noonday sun. +Like a great red ball in my bosom burning + With fires that nothing can quench or tame. +It glows till my heart itself seems turning + Into a liquid lake of flame. + +The hopes half shy, and the sighs all tender, + The dreams and fears of an earlier day, +Under the noontide's royal splendour, + Droop like roses and wither away. +From the hills of doubt no winds are blowing, + From the isle of pain no breeze is sent. +Only the sun in a white heat glowing + Over an ocean of great content. + +Sink, O my soul, in this golden glory, + Die, O my heart, in thy rapture-swoon, +For the Autumn must come with its mournful story, + And Love's midsummer will fade too soon. + + + +A REMINISCENCE + + + +I saw the wild honey-bee kissing a rose + A wee one, that grows +Down low on the bush, where her sisters above + Cannot see all that's done + As the moments roll on. +Nor hear all the whispers and murmurs of love. + +They flaunt out their beautiful leaves in the sun, + And they flirt, every one, +With the wild bees who pass, and the gay butterflies. + And that wee thing in pink - + Why, they never once think +That she's won a lover right under their eyes. + +It reminded me, Kate, of a time--you know when! + You were so petite then, +Your dresses were short, and your feet were so small. + Your sisters, Maud-Belle + And Madeline--well, +They BOTH set their caps for me, after that ball. + +How the blue eyes and black eyes smiled up in my face! + 'Twas a neck-and-neck race, +Till that day when you opened the door in the hall, + And looked up and looked down, + With your sweet eyes of brown, +And YOU seemed so tiny, and _I_ felt so tall. + +Your sisters had sent you to keep me, my dear, + Till they should appear. +Then you were dismissed like a child in disgrace. + How meekly you went! + But your brown eyes, they sent +A thrill to my heart, and a flush to my face. + +We always were meeting some way after that. + You hung up my hat, +And got it again, when I finished my call. + Sixteen, and SO sweet! + Oh, those cute little feet! +Shall I ever forget how they tripped down the hall? + +Shall I ever forget the first kiss by the door, + Or the vows murmured o'er, +Or the rage and surprise of Maud-Belle? Well-a-day, + How swiftly time flows, + And who would suppose +That a BEE could have carried me so far away. + + + +A GIRL'S FAITH + + + +Across the miles that stretch between, + Through days of gloom or glad sunlight, +There shines a face I have not seen + Which yet doth make my world more bright. + +He may be near, he may be far, + Or near or far I cannot see, +But faithful as the morning star + He yet shall rise and come to me. + +What though fate leads us separate ways, + The world is round, and time is fleet. +A journey of a few brief days, + And face to face we two shall meet. + +Shall meet beneath God's arching skies, + While suns shall blaze, or stars shall gleam, +And looking in each other's eyes + Shall hold the past but as a dream. + +But round and perfect and complete, + Life like a star shall climb the height, +As we two press with willing feet + Together toward the Infinite. + +And still behind the space between, + As back of dawns the sunbeams play, +There shines the face I have not seen, + Whose smile shall wake my world to-day. + + + +TWO + + + +One leaned on velvet cushions like a queen - + To see him pass, the hero of an hour, +Whom men called great. She bowed with languid mien, + And smiled, and blushed, and knew her beauty's power. + +One trailed her tinselled garments through the street, + And thrust aside the crowd, and found a place +So near, the blooded courser's prancing feet + Cast sparks of fire upon her painted face. + +One took the hot-house blossoms from her breast, + And tossed them down, as he went riding by, +And blushed rose-red to see them fondly pressed + To bearded lips, while eye spoke unto eye. + +One, bold and hardened with her sinful life, + Yet shrank and shivered painfully, because +His cruel glance cut keener than a knife, + The glance of him who made her what she was. + +One was observed, and lifted up to fame, + Because the hero smiled upon her! while +One who was shunned and hated, found her shame + In basking in the death-light of his smile. + + + +SLIPPING AWAY + + + +Slipping away--slipping away! +Out of our brief year slips the May; +And Winter lingers, and Summer flies; +And Sorrow abideth, and Pleasure dies; +And the days are short, and the nights are long; +And little is right, and much is wrong. + +Slipping away is the Summer time; +It has lost its rhythm and lilting rhyme - +For the grace goes out of the day so soon, +And the tired head aches in the glare of noon, +And the way seems long to the hills that lie +Under the calm of the western sky. + +Slipping away are the friends whose worth +Lent a glow to the sad old earth: +One by one they slip from our sight; +One by one their graves gleam white; +Or we count them lost by the crueller death +Of a trust betrayed, or a murdered faith. + +Slipping away are the hopes that made +Bliss out of sorrow, and sun out of shade, +Slipping away is our hold on life; +And out of the struggle and wearing strife, +From joys that diminish, and woes that increase, +We are slipping away to the shores of Peace. + + + +IS IT DONE? + + + +It is done! in the fire's fitful flashes, + The last line has withered and curled. +In a tiny white heap of dead ashes + Lie buried the hopes of your world. +There were mad foolish vows in each letter, + It is well they have shrivelled and burned, +And the ring! oh, the ring was a fetter, + It was better removed and returned. + +But ah, is it done? In the embers + Where letters and tokens were cast, +Have you burned up the heart that remembers, + And treasures its beautiful past? +Do you think in this swift reckless fashion + To ruthlessly burn and destroy +The months that were freighted with passion, + The dreams that were drunken with joy? + +Can you burn up the rapture of kisses + That flashed from the lips to the soul, +Or the heart that grows sick for lost blisses + In spite of its strength of control? +Have you burned up the touch of warm fingers + That thrilled through each pulse and each vein, +Or the sound of a voice that still lingers + And hurts with a haunting refrain? + +Is it done? is the life drama ended? + You have put all the lights out, and yet, +Though the curtain, rung down, has descended, + Can the actors go home and forget? +Ah, no! they will turn in their sleeping + With a strange restless pain in their hearts, +And in darkness, and anguish, and weeping, + Will dream they are playing their parts. + + + +A LEAF + + + +Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve, + That you were married, or soon to be. +I have not thought of you, I believe, + Since last we parted. Let me see: +Five long Summers have passed since then - + Each has been pleasant in its own way - +And you are but one of a dozen men + Who have played the suitor a Summer day. + +But, nevertheless, when I heard your name, + Coupled with some one's, not my own, +There burned in my bosom a sudden flame, + That carried me back to the day that is flown. +I was sitting again by the laughing brook, + With you at my feet, and the sky above, +And my heart was fluttering under your look - + The unmistakable look of Love. + +Again your breath, like a South wind, fanned + My cheek, where the blushes came and went; +And the tender clasp of your strong, warm hand + Sudden thrills through my pulses sent. +Again you were mine by Love's own right - + Mine for ever by Love's decree: +So for a moment it seemed last night, + When somebody mentioned your name to me. + +Just for the moment I thought you mine - + Loving me, wooing me, as of old. +The tale remembered seemed half divine - + Though I held it lightly enough when told. +The past seemed fairer than when it was near, + As "blessings brighten when taking flight;" +And just for the moment I held you dear - + When somebody mentioned your name last night. + + + +AESTHETIC + + + +In a garb that was guiltless of colours + She stood, with a dull, listless air - +A creature of dumps and of dolours, + But most undeniably fair. + +The folds of her garment fell round her, + Revealing the curve of each limb; +Well proportioned and graceful I found her, + Although quite alarmingly slim. + +From the hem of her robe peeped one sandal - + "High art" was she down to her feet; +And though I could not understand all + She said, I could see she was sweet. + +Impressed by her limpness and languor, + I proffered a chair near at hand; +She looked back a mild sort of anger - + Posed anew, and continued to stand. + +Some praises I next tried to mutter + Of the fan that she held to her face; +She said it was "utterly utter," + And waved it with languishing grace. + +I then, in a strain quite poetic, + Begged her gaze on the bow in the sky, +She looked--said its curve was "aesthetic." + But the "tone was too dreadfully high." + +Her lovely face, lit by the splendour + That glorified landscape and sea, +Woke thoughts that were daring and tender: + Did HER thoughts, too, rest upon me? + +"Oh, tell me," I cried, growing bolder, + "Have I in your musings a place?" +"Well, yes," she said over her shoulder: + "I was thinking of nothing in space." + + + +POEMS OF THE WEEK + + + +SUNDAY + +Lie still and rest, in that serene repose +That on this holy morning comes to those +Who have been burdened with the cares which make +The sad heart weary and the tired head ache. + Lie still and rest - + God's day of all is best. + +MONDAY + +Awake! arise! Cast off thy drowsy dreams! +Red in the East, behold the Morning gleams. +"As Monday goes, so goes the week," dames say. +Refreshed, renewed, use well the initial day. + And see! thy neighbour + Already seeks his labour. + +TUESDAY + +Another morning's banners are unfurled - +Another day looks smiling on the world. +It holds new laurels for thy soul to win; +Mar not its grace by slothfulness or sin, + Nor sad, away, + Send it to yesterday. + +WEDNESDAY + +Half-way unto the end--the week's high noon. +The morning hours do speed away so soon! +And, when the noon is reached, however bright, +Instinctively we look toward the night. + The glow is lost + Once the meridian cross'd. + +THURSDAY + +So well the week has sped, hast thou a friend, +Go spend an hour in converse. It will lend +New beauty to thy labours and thy life +To pause a little sometimes in the strife. + Toil soon seems rude + That has no interlude. + +FRIDAY + +From feasts abstain; be temperate, and pray; +Fast if thou wilt; and yet, throughout the day, +Neglect no labour and no duty shirk: +Not many hours are left thee for thy work - + And it were meet + That all should be complete. + +SATURDAY + +Now with the almost finished task make haste. +So near the night thou hast no time to waste. +Post up accounts, and let thy Soul's eyes look +For flaws and errors in Life's ledger-book. + When labours cease, + How sweet the sense of peace! + + + +GHOSTS + + + + There are ghosts in the room. +As I sit here alone, from the dark corners there + They come out of the gloom, +And they stand at my side and they lean on my chair. + + There's the ghost of a Hope +That lighted my days with a fanciful glow. + In her hand is the rope +That strangled her life out. Hope was slain long ago. + + But her ghost comes to-night, +With its skeleton face and expressionless eyes, + And it stands in the light, +And mocks me, and jeers me with sobs and with sighs. + + There's the ghost of a Joy, +A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much, + And the hands that destroy +Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch. + + There's the ghost of a Love, +Born with joy, reared with hope, died in pain and unrest, + But he towers above +All the others--this ghost: yet a ghost at the best. + + I am weary, and fain +Would forget all these dead: but the gibbering host + Make my struggle in vain, +In each shadowy corner there lurketh a ghost. + + + +FLEEING AWAY + + + +My thoughts soar not as they ought to soar, + Higher and higher on soul-lent wings; +But ever and often, and more and more + They are dragged down earthward by little things, +By little troubles and little needs, +As a lark might be tangled among the weeds. + +My purpose is not what it ought to be, + Steady and fixed, like a star on high, +But more like a fisherman's light at sea; + Hither and thither it seems to fly - +Sometimes feeble, and sometimes bright, +Then suddenly lost in the gloom of night. + +My life is far from my dream of life - + Calmly contented, serenely glad; +But, vexed and worried by daily strife, + It is always troubled, and ofttimes sad - +And the heights I had thought I should reach one day +Grow dimmer and dimmer, and farther away. + +My heart finds never the longed-for rest; + Its worldly striving, its greed for gold, +Chilled and frightened the calm-eyed guest, + Who sometimes sought me in days of old; +And ever fleeing away from me +Is the higher self that I long to be. + + + +ALL MAD + + + +"He is mad as a hare, poor fellow, + And should be in chains," you say. +I haven't a doubt of your statement, + But who isn't mad, I pray? +Why, the world is a great asylum, + And people are all insane, +Gone daft with pleasure or folly, + Or crazed with passion and pain. + +The infant who shrieks at a shadow, + The child with his Santa Claus faith, +The woman who worships Dame Fashion, + Each man with his notions of death, +The miser who hoards up his earnings, + The spendthrift who wastes them too soon, +The scholar grown blind in his delving, + The lover who stares at the moon. + +The poet who thinks life a paean, + The cynic who thinks it a fraud, +The youth who goes seeking for pleasure, + The preacher who dares talk of God, +All priests with their creeds and their croaking, + All doubters who dare to deny, +The gay who find aught to wake laughter, + The sad who find aught worth a sigh, +Whoever is downcast or solemn, + Whoever is gleeful and glad, +Are only the dupes of delusions - + We are all of us--all of us mad. + + + +HIDDEN GEMS + + + +We know not what lies in us, till we seek; + Men dive for pearls--they are not found on shore, +The hillsides most unpromising and bleak + Do sometimes hide the ore. + +Go, dive in the vast ocean of thy mind, + O man! far down below the noisy waves, +Down in the depths and silence thou mayst find + Rare pearls and coral caves. + +Sink thou a shaft into the mine of thought; + Be patient, like the seekers after gold; +Under the rocks and rubbish lieth what + May bring thee wealth untold. + +Reflected from the vastly Infinite, + However dulled by earth, each human mind +Holds somewhere gems of beauty and of light + Which, seeking, thou shalt find. + + + +BY-AND-BYE + + + +"By-and-bye," the maiden sighed--"by-and-bye +He will claim me for his bride, +Hope is strong and time is fleet; +Youth is fair, and love is sweet, +Clouds will pass that fleck my sky, +He will come back by-and-bye--by-and-bye." + +"By-and-bye," the soldier said--"by-and-bye, +After I have fought and bled, +I shall go home from the wars, +Crowned with glory, seamed with scars. +Joy will flash from some one's eye +When she greets me by-and-bye--by-and-bye." + +"By-and-bye," the mother cried--"by-and-bye, +Strong and sturdy at my side, +Like a staff supporting me, +Will my bonnie baby be. +Break my rest, then, wail and cry - +Thou'lt repay me by-and-bye--by-and-bye." + +Fleeting years of time have sped--hurried by - +Still the maiden is unwed: +All unknown the soldier lies, +Buried under alien skies; +And the son, with blood-shot eye, +Saw his mother starve and die. +God in Heaven! dost Thou on high, +Keep the promised "by-and-bye"--by-and-bye? + + + +OVER THE MAY HILL + + + +All through the night time, and all through the day time, + Dreading the morning and dreading the night, +Nearer and nearer we drift to the May time + Season of beauty and season of blight, +Leaves on the linden, and sun on the meadow, + Green in the garden, and bloom everywhere, +Gloom in my heart, and a terrible shadow, + Walks by me, sits by me, stands by my chair. + +Oh, but the birds by the brooklet are cheery, + Oh, but the woods show such delicate greens, +Strange how you droop and how soon you are weary - + Too well I know what that weariness means. +But how could I know in the crisp winter weather + (Though sometimes I noticed a catch in your breath), +Riding and singing and dancing together, + How could I know you were racing with death? + +How could I know when we danced until morning, + And you were the gayest of all the gay crowd - +With only that shortness of breath for a warning, + How could I know that you danced for a shroud? +Whirling and whirling through moonlight and starlight. + Rocking as lightly as boats on the wave, +Down in your eyes shone a deep light--a far light, + How could I know 'twas the light to your grave? + +Day by day, day by day, nearing and nearing, + Hid under greenness, and beauty and bloom, +Cometh the shape and the shadow I'm fearing, + "Over the May hill" is waiting your tomb. +The season of mirth and of music is over - + I have danced my last dance, I have sung my last song, +Under the violets, under the clover, + My heart and my love will be lying ere long + + + +FOES + + + +Thank Fate for foes! I hold mine dear + As valued friends. He cannot know +The zest of life who runneth here + His earthly race without a foe. + +I saw a prize. "Run," cried my friend; + "'Tis thine to claim without a doubt." +But ere I half-way reached the end, + I felt my strength was giving out. + +My foe looked on the while I ran; + A scornful triumph lit his eyes. +With that perverseness born in man, + I nerved myself, and won the prize. + +All blinded by the crimson glow + Of sin's disguise, I tempted Fate. +"I knew thy weakness!" sneered my foe, + I saved myself, and balked his hate. + +For half my blessings, half my gain, + I needs must thank my trusty foe; +Despite his envy and disdain, + He serves me well where'er I go. + +So may I keep him to the end, + Nor may his enmity abate: +More faithful than the fondest friend, + He guards me ever with his hate. + + + +FRIENDSHIP + + + +Dear friend, I pray thee, if thou wouldst be proving + Thy strong regard for me, +Make me no vows. Lip-service is not loving; + Let thy faith speak for thee. + +Swear not to me that nothing can divide us - + So little such oaths mean. +But when distrust and envy creep beside us + Let them not come between. + +Say not to me the depths of thy devotion + Are deeper than the sea; +But watch, lest doubt or some unkind emotion + Embitter them for me. + +Vow not to love me ever and for ever, + Words are such idle things; +But when we differ in opinions, never + Hurt me by little stings. + +I'm sick of words: they are so lightly spoken, + And spoken, are but air. +I'd rather feel thy trust in me unbroken + Than list thy words so fair. + +If all the little proofs of trust are heeded, + If thou art always kind, +No sacrifice, no promise will be needed + To satisfy my mind. + + + +TWO SAT DOWN + + + +Two sat down in the morning time, + One to sing and one to spin. +All men listened the song sublime - + But no one listened the dull wheel's din. + +The singer sat in a pleasant nook, + And sang of a life that was fair and sweet, +While the spinner sat with a steadfast look, + Busily plying her hands and feet. + +The singer sang on with a rose in her hair, + And all men listened her dulcet tone; +And the spinner spun on with a dull despair + Down in her heart as she sat alone. + +But lo! on the morrow no one said + Aught of the singer or what she sang. +Men were saying: "Behold this thread," + And loud the praise of the spinner rang. + +The world has forgotten the singer's name - + Her rose is faded, her songs are old; +But far o'er the ocean the spinner's fame + Yet is blazoned in lines of gold. + + + +BOUND AND FREE + + + +Come to me, Love! Come on the wings of the wind! + Fly as the ring-dove would fly to his mate! +Leave all your cares and your sorrows behind! + Leave all the fears of your future to Fate! +Come! and our skies shall be glad with the gold + That paled into gray when you parted from me. +Come! but remember that, just as of old, + You must be bound, Love, and I must be free. + +Life has lost savour since you and I parted; + I have been lonely, and you have been sad. +Youth is too brief to be sorrowful-hearted - + Come! and again let us laugh and be glad. +Lips should not sigh that are fashioned to kiss - + Breasts should not ache that joy's secrets have found. +Come! but remember, in spite of all this, + I must be free, Love, while you must be bound. + +You must be bound to be true while you live, + And I keep my freedom for ever, as now. +You must ask only for that which I give - + Kisses and love-words, but never a vow. +Come! I am lonely, and long for your smile, + Bring back the lost lovely Summer to me! +Come! but remember, remember the while, + That you must be bound, Love, and I must be free. + + + +AQUILEIA + + + +[On the election of the Roman Emperor Maximus, by the Senate, A.D. +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. --Gibbon's +Roman History.] + +"The ropes, the ropes! Apollo send us ropes," +Chrispinus cried, "or death attends our hopes." +Then panic reigned, and many a mournful sound +Hurt the cleft air; for where could ropes be found? + +Up rose a Roman mother; tall was she +As her own son, a youth of noble height. +A little child was clinging to her knee - +She loosed his twining arms and put him down, +And her dark eyes flashed with a sudden light. + +How like a queen she stood! her royal crown, +The rich dark masses of her splendid hair. +Just flecked with spots of sunshine here and there, +Twined round her brow; 'twas like a coronet, +Where gems of gold lie bedded deep in jet. + +She loosed the comb that held the shining strands, +And threaded out the meshes with her hands. +The purple mass fell to her garment's hem. +A queen new clothed without her diadem +She stood before her subjects. + + "Now," she cried, +"Give me thy sword, Julianus!" And her son +Unsheathed the blade (that had not left his side +Save when it sought a foeman's blood to shed), +Awed by her regal bearing, and obeyed. + +With the white beauty of her firm fair hand +She clasped the hilt; then severed, one by one, +Her gold-flecked purple tresses. Strand on strand, +Free e'en as foes had fallen by that blade, +Robbed of its massive wealth of curl and coil, +Yet like some antique model, rose her head +In all its classic beauty. + + "See!" she said, +And pointed to the shining mound of hair; +"Apollo makes swift answer to thy prayer, +Chrispinus. Quick! now, soldiers, to thy toil!" +Forth from a thousand throats what seemed one voice +Rose shrilly, filling all the air with cheer. +"Lo!" quoth the foe, "our enemies rejoice!" +Well might the Thracian giant quake with fear! +For while skilled hands caught up the gleaming threads +And bound them into cords, a hundred heads +Yielded their beauteous tresses to the sword, +And cast them down to swell the precious hoard. + +Nor was the noble sacrifice in vain +Another day beheld the giant slain. + + + +WISHES FOR A LITTLE GIRL + + + +What would I ask the kindly fates to give + To crown her life, if I could have my way? +My strongest wishes would be negative, + If they would but obey. + +Give her not greatness. For great souls must stand + Alone and lonely in this little world: +Cleft rocks that show the great Creator's hand, + Thither by earthquakes hurled. + +Give her not genius. Spare her the cruel pain + Of finding her whole life a prey for daws; +Of hearing with quickened sense and burning brain + The world's sneer-tinged applause. + +Give her not perfect beauty's gifts. For then + Her truthful mirror would infuse her mind +With love for self, and for the praise of men, + That lowers woman-kind. + +But make her fair and comely to the sight, + Give her more heart than brain, more love than pride. +Let her be tender-thoughted, cheerful, bright, + Some strong man's star and guide. + +Not vainly questioning why she was sent + Into this restless world of toil and strife, +Let her go bravely on her way, content + To make the best of life. + + + +ROMNEY + + + +Nay, Romney, nay--I will not hear you say + Those words again: "I love you, love you sweet!" + You are profane--blasphemous. I repeat, +You are no actor for so grand a play. + +You love with all your heart? Well, that may be; + Some cups are fashioned shallow. Should I try + To quench my thirst from one of those, when dry - +I who have had a full bowl proffered me - + +A new bowl brimming with a draught divine, + One single taste thrilled to the finger-tips? + Think you I even care to bathe my lips +With this poor sweetened water you call wine? + +And though I spilled the nectar ere 'twas quaffed, + And broke the bowl in wanton folly, yet + I would die of my thirst ere I would wet +My burning lips with any meaner draught. + +So leave me, Romney. One who has seen a play + Enacted by a star cannot endure + To see it rendered by an amateur. +You know not what Love is--now go away! + + + +MY HOME + + + +This is the place that I love the best, +A little brown house like a ground-bird's nest, +Hid among grasses, and vines, and trees, +Summer retreat of the birds and bees. + +The tenderest light that ever was seen +Sifts through the vine-made window screen - +Sifts and quivers, and flits and falls +On home-made carpets and gray-hung walls. + +All through June, the west wind free +The breath of the clover brings to me. +All through the languid July day +I catch the scent of the new-mown hay. + +The morning glories and scarlet vine +Over the doorway twist and twine; +And every day, when the house is still, +The humming-bird comes to the window-sill. + +In the cunningest chamber under the sun +I sink to sleep when the day is done; +And am waked at morn, in my snow-white bed, +By a singing-bird on the roof o'erhead. + +Better than treasures brought from Rome +Are the living pictures I see at home - +My aged father, with frosted hair, +And mother's face like a painting rare +Far from the city's dust and heat, +I get but sounds and odours sweet. +Who can wonder I love to stay, +Week after week, here hidden away, +In this sly nook that I love the best - +The little brown house, like a ground-bird's nest? + + + +TO MARRY OR NOT TO MARRY? +A GIRL'S REVERIE + + + +Mother says, "Be in no hurry, +Marriage oft means care and worry." + +Auntie says, with manner grave, +"Wife is synonym for slave." + +Father asks, in tones commanding, +"How does Bradstreet rate his standing?" + +Sister crooning to her twins, +Sighs, "With marriage care begins." + +Grandma, near life's closing days, +Murmurs, "Sweet are girlhood's ways." + +Maud, twice widowed ("sod and grass") +Looks at me and moans "Alas!" + +They are six, and I am one, +Life for me has just begun. + +They are older, calmer, wiser: +Age should aye be youth's adviser. + +They must know--and yet, dear me, +When in Harry's eyes I see + +All the world of love there burning - +On my six advisers turning, + +I make answer, "Oh, but Harry +Is not like most men who marry. + +"Fate has offered me a prize, +Life with love means Paradise. + +"Life without it is not worth +All the foolish joys of earth." + +So, in spite of all they say, +I shall name the wedding day. + + + +AN AFTERNOON + + + +I am stirred by the dream of an afternoon +Of a perfect day--though it was not June; +The lilt of winds, and the droning tune + That a busy city was humming. + +And a bronze-brown head, and lips like wine +Leaning out through the window-vine +A-list for steps that were maybe mine - + Eager steps that were coming. + +I can see it all, as a dreamer may - +The tender smile on your lips that day, +And the glow on your cheek as we rode away + Into the golden weather. + +And a love-light shone in your eyes of brown - +I swear there did!--as we drove down +The crowded avenue out of the town, + Through shadowy lanes, together: + +Drove out into the sunset-skies +That glowed with wonderful crimson dyes; +And with soul and spirit, and heart and eyes, + We silently drank their splendour. + +But the golden glory that lit the place +Was not alone from the sunset's grace - +For I saw in your fair, uplifted face + A light that was wondrously tender. + +I say I saw it. And yet to-day +I ask myself, in a cynical way, +Was it only a part you had learned to play, + To see me act the lover? + +And I curse myself for a fool. And yet +I would willingly die without one regret +Could I bring back the day whose sun has set - + And you--and live it over. + + + +RIVER AND SEA + + + +We stood by the river that swept + In its glory and grandeur away; +But never a pulse o' me leapt, + And you wondered at me that day. + +We stood by the lake as it lay + With its dimpled face turned to the light; +Was it strange I had nothing to say + To so fair and enchanting a sight? + +I look on your tresses of gold - + You are fair and a thing to be loved - +Do you think I am heartless and cold + That I look and am wholly unmoved? + +One answer, dear friend, I will make + To the questions your eyes ask of me: +"Talk not of the river or lake + To those who have looked on the sea" + + + +WHAT HAPPENS? + + + +When thy hand touches mine, through all the mesh + Of intricate and interlaced veins + Shoot swift delights that border on keen pains: +Flesh thrills to thrilling flesh. + +When in thine eager eyes I look to find + A comrade to my thought, thy ready brain + Delves down and makes its inmost meaning plain: +Mind answers unto mind. + +When hands and eyes are hid by seas that roll + Wide wastes between us, still so near thou art + I count the very pulses of thy heart: +Soul speaketh unto soul. + +So every law, or human or divine, +In heart and brain and spirit makes thee mine. + + + +POSSESSION + + + +That which we had we still possess, + Though leaves may drop and stars may fall; +No circumstance can make it less, + Or take it from us, all in all. + +That which is lost we did not own; + We only held it for a day - +A leaf by careless breezes blown; + No fate could take our own away. + +I hold it as a changeless law + From which no soul can sway or swerve, +We have that in us which will draw + Whate'er we need or most deserve. + +Even as the magnet to the steel + Our souls are to our best desires; +The Fates have hearts and they can feel - + They know what each true life requires. + +We think we lose when we most gain; + We call joys ended ere begun; +When stars fade out do skies complain, + Or glory in the rising sun? + +No fate could rob us of our own - + No circumstance can make it less; +What time removes was but a loan, + For what was ours we still possess. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext Poems of Cheer, by Ella Wheeler Wilcox + diff --git a/old/pmchr10.zip b/old/pmchr10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5e982e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/pmchr10.zip |