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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..93cfec0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #53072 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/53072) diff --git a/old/53072-0.txt b/old/53072-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fbc72be..0000000 --- a/old/53072-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2238 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Clarence Cook - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Clarence Cook - -Release Date: September 17, 2016 [EBook #53072] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - POEMS - - OF - - CLARENCE COOK - - [Illustration: CLARENCE C. COOK - - AT THE AGE OF 36 - - FROM A PEN-AND-INK DRAWING MADE IN 1864 BY THOMAS C. FARRAR, PUPIL OF - JOHN RUSKIN] - - - - - POEMS - - BY - - CLARENCE COOK - - [Illustration: colophon] - - NEW YORK - - 1902 - - - COPYRIGHT, 1902 - BY LOUISA W. COOK - - - PRIVATELY PRINTED - AT THE GILLISS PRESS, NEW YORK - FOR LOUISA W. COOK - AND HER FRIENDS - 1902 - - - - - THIS LITTLE VOLUME - OF PUBLISHED AND UNPUBLISHED VERSES - BY THE LATE - - CLARENCE COOK - - IS DEDICATED TO HIS MANY FRIENDS AND LOVERS - BY HIS WIFE - - LOUISA W. COOK - - - - -CHRONOLOGY - - -1828 - -September 8th, Clarence Chatham Cook born at Dorchester, Massachusetts. - - -1849 - -Graduated at Harvard College. - -Studied architecture for a season. Then became a tutor. Lectured on Art -and gave readings from Shakespeare’s plays. - - -1852 - -Married Tuesday, October 26th, to Louisa De Wint Whittemore, widow of -Samuel Whittemore of New York City. - - -1863 - -Began a series of articles published in the _New York Tribune_, on -“American Art and Artists.” - - -1864 - -Editor of _The New Path_, a pre-Raphaelite journal published in New -York. - - -1868 - -Published “The Central Park.” - - -1869 - -Paris correspondent of _The New York Tribune_. Went to Italy at the -outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war. - - -1870 - -Returned to the United States and renewed his connection with _The New -York Tribune_. - - -1874 - -Wrote the text of a heliotype reproduction of Dürer’s “Life of the -Virgin.” - - -1878 - -Completed “The House Beautiful” and edited, with notes, the translation -of Lübke’s “History of Art.” - - -1884 - -Editor and proprietor of _The Studio_, a monthly magazine of art -published in New York. - - -1886 - -Published an illustrated work in three large volumes entitled “Art and -Artists of Our Time.” - - -1900 - -Clarence Chatham Cook died at Fishkill-on-the-Hudson May 31, aged 72 -years. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -Chronology vii - -The Maple Tree 1 - -Abram and Zimri 6 - -An April Violet 10 - -Regret 12 - -L’Ennui 14 - -Aspiration 16 - -The Soul’s Question 18 - -Assertion 32 - -The Apple 33 - -For Easter Day 34 - -On One Who Died in May 36 - -The Yew Tree 39 - -The Immortal 41 - -Two Mays 45 - -Wind Harpings 47 - -A Valentine 49 - -Coming--Come 52 - -Ulysses and the Sirens 53 - -Ottilia 54 - -A Portrait 57 - -Sonnet 60 - -To Giulia, Singing 61 - -Yesterday and To-Day 63 - -A Sonnet in Praise of His Lady’s Hands 66 - - - - -POEMS - -BY - -CLARENCE COOK - - - - -THE MAPLE TREE - - - An April sun with April showers - Had burst the buds of lagging flowers; - From their fresh leaves the violets’ eyes - Mirrored the deep blue of the skies; - The daffodils, in clustering ranks, - Fringed with their spears the garden banks, - And with the blooms I love so well - Their paper buds began to swell, - While every bush and every tree - Burgeoned with flowers of melody; - From the quick robin with his range - Of silver notes, a warbling change, - Which he from sad to merry drew - A sparkling shower of tuneful dew, - To the brown sparrow in the wheat - A plaintive whistle clear and sweet. - Over my head the royal sky - Spread clear from cloud his canopy, - The idle noon slept far and wide - On misty hill and river side, - And far below me glittering lay - The mirror of the azure bay. - - I stood beneath the maple tree; - Its crimson blooms enchanted me, - Its honey perfume haunted me, - And drew me thither unaware, - A nameless influence in the air. - Its boughs were hung with murmuring bees - Who robbed it of its sweetnesses-- - Their cheerful humming, loud and strong, - Drowned with its bass the robin’s song, - And filled the April noontide air - With Labor’s universal prayer. - I paused to listen--soon I heard - A sound of neither bee nor bird, - A sullen murmur mixed with cheer - That rose and fell upon the ear - As the wind might--yet far away - Unstirred the sleeping river lay, - And even across the hillside wheat - No silvery ripples wandered fleet. - It was the murmur of the town, - No song of bird or bee could drown-- - The rattling wheels along the street, - The pushing crowd with hasty feet, - The schoolboy’s call, the gossip’s story, - The lawyer’s purchased oratory, - The glib-tongued shopman with his wares, - The chattering schoolgirl with her airs, - The moaning sick man on his bed, - The coffin nailing for the dead, - The new-born infant’s lusty wail, - The bells that bade the bridal hail, - The factory’s wheels that round and round - Forever turn, and with their sound - Make the young children deaf to all - God’s voices that about them call, - Sweet sounds of bird and wind and wave; - And Life no gladder than a grave. - - These myriad, mingled human voices, - These intertwined and various noises - Made up the murmur that I heard - Through the sweet hymn of bee and bird. - I said--“If all these sounds of life - With which the noontide air is rife, - These busy murmurings of the bee - Robbing the honied maple tree, - These warblings of the song-birds’ voices, - With which the blooming hedge rejoices, - These harsher mortal chords that rise - To mar Earth’s anthem to the skies, - If all these sounds fall on my ear - So little varying--yet so near-- - How can I tell if God can know - A cry of human joy or woe - From the loud humming of the bee, - Or the blithe robin’s melody?” - - God sitteth somewhere in his heaven-- - About him sing the planets seven; - With every thought a world is made, - To grow in sun or droop in shade; - He holds Creation like a flower - In his right hand--an æon’s hour-- - It fades, it dies,--another’s bloom - Makes the air sweet with fresh perfume. - Or, did he listen on that day - To what the rolling Earth might say? - Or, did he mark, as, one by one, - The gliding hours in light were spun? - And if he heard the choral hymn - The Earth sent up to honor him, - Which note rose sweetest to his ear? - Which murmur did he gladliest hear? - -_The Roses, April, 1853._ - - - - -ABRAM AND ZIMRI - -_Poem founded on a Rabinnical Legend_ - - - Abram and Zimri owned a field together, - A level field, hid in a happy vale; - They ploughed it with one plough, and in the spring - Sowed, walking side by side, the fruitful grain; - Each carried to his home one-half the sheaves, - And stored them, with much labor, in his barns. - Now Abram had a wife and seven sons, - But Zimri dwelt alone within his house. - One night, before the sheaves were gathered in, - As Zimri lay upon his lonely bed, - And counted in his mind his little gains, - He thought upon his brother Abram’s lot, - And said, “I dwell alone within my house, - But Abram hath a wife and seven sons; - And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike: - He surely needeth more for life than I: - I will arise and gird myself, and go - Down to the field, and add to his from mine.” - So he arose and girded up his loins, - And went out softly to the level field. - The moon shone out from dusky bars of clouds, - The trees stood black against the cold blue sky, - The branches waved and whispered in the wind. - So Zimri, guided by the shifting light, - Went down the mountain path, and found the field; - Took from his store of sheave a generous third, - And bore them gladly to his brother’s heap, - And then went back to sleep and happy dreams. - - Now that same night, as Abram lay in bed, - Thinking upon his blissful state in life, - He thought upon his brother Zimri’s lot, - And said, “He dwells within his house alone, - He goeth forth to toil with few to help, - He goeth home at night to a cold house, - And hath few other friends but me and mine - (For these two tilled the happy vale alone), - While I, whom Heaven hath very greatly blessed, - Dwell happy with my wife and seven sons, - Who aid me in my toil, and make it light; - And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike; - This, surely, is not pleasing unto God. - I will arise and gird myself, and go - Out to the field, and borrow from my store, - And add unto my brother Zimri’s pile.” - - So he arose and girded up his loins, - And went down softly to the level field. - The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds, - The trees stood black against the starry sky, - The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze; - So Abram, guided by the doubtful light, - Passed down the mountain path, and found the field, - Took from his store of sheaves a generous third, - And added them unto his brother’s heap; - Then he went back to sleep and happy dreams. - - So the next morning, with the early sun, - The brothers rose and went out to their toil; - And when they came to see the heavy sheaves, - Each wondered in his heart to find his heap, - Though he had given a third, was still the same. - - Now the next night went Zimri to the field, - Took from his store of sheaves a generous share - And placed them on his brother Abram’s heap; - And then lay down behind his pile to watch. - The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud, - The cedars stood up black against the sky, - The olive branches whispered in the wind. - Then Abram came down softly from his home, - And, looking to the left and right, went on, - Took from his ample store a generous third, - And laid it on his brother Zimri’s pile. - Then Zimri rose and caught him in his arms, - And wept upon his neck and kissed his cheek, - And Abram saw the whole, and could not speak, - Neither could Zimri, for their hearts were full. - - - - -AN APRIL VIOLET - - - Pale flower, that by this stone - Sweetenest the air alone, - While round thee falls the snow - And the rude wind doth blow. - What thought doth make thee pine - Pale Flower, can I divine? - - Say, does this trouble thee - That all things fickle be? - The wind that buffets so - Was kind an hour ago. - The sun, a cloud doth hide, - Cheered thee at morning tide. - - The busy pleasuring bee - Sought thee for company. - The little sparrows near - Sang thee their ballads clear. - The maples on thy head - Their spicy blossoms shed. - - Because the storm made dumb - The wild bees booming hum; - Because for shivering - The sparrows cannot sing; - Is this the reason why - Thou look’st so woefully? - - To-morrow’s laughing sun - Will cheer thee, pallid one; - To-morrow will bring back - The gay bee on his track, - Bursting thy cloister dim - With his wild roistering. - - Canst thou not wait the morrow, - That rids thee of thy sorrow? - Art thou too desolate - To smile at any fate? - Then there is naught for thee - But Death’s delivery. - -_The Roses, May 4, 1853._ - - - - -REGRET - - - Look out, sad heart, through wintry eyes - To see thy summer go: - How pallid are thy bluest skies - Behind this veiling snow. - - Look out upon thy purple hills, - That all the summer long, - Laughed with an hundred laughing rills, - And sang their summer song. - - You only see the sheeted snow - That covers grass and tree; - The frozen streamlets cannot flow, - No bird dares sing to thee. - - Look out upon Life’s summer days - That fade like summer flowers; - What golden fruitage for thy praise, - From all those bounteous hours? - - Sings any bird, or any wind - Amid thy falling leaves? - Why is it, if thou look’st behind, - Thy heart forever grieves? - -_Newburgh, January 4, 1854._ - - - - -L’ENNUI - - - Oh April grass, so truly - My wish for spring divining, - Oh April sun, so gaily - In at my window shining, - What cheer can ye impart - Unto a faded heart? - - Oh thoughts of Summer days - Born of the violet’s blue. - Oh wooing western wind, - That maketh all things new-- - What cheer can ye impart - Unto a faded heart? - - Oh mountains brown and sere, - Mantled in morning light, - Oh golden sunset sea - Wrecked on the shores of night, - What cheer can ye impart - Unto a faded heart? - - Oh longings evermore - For some ungiven good, - Oh yearnings to make clear - The dimly understood, - What cheer can ye impart - Unto a faded heart? - - Cover thy weary eyes - With hands too weak for prayer, - Think on the happy past, - From other thoughts forbear - Which can no cheer impart - Unto a hopeless heart. - -_The Roses, April 20, 1853._ - - - - -ASPIRATION - - - Thou sea, whose tireless waves - Forever seek the shore, - Striving to clamber higher, - Yet failing evermore; - Why wilt thou still aspire - Though losing thy desire? - - Thou sun, whose constant feet - Mount ever to thy noon, - Thou canst not there remain, - Night quenches thee so soon; - Why wilt thou still aspire - Though losing thy desire? - - Rose, in my garden growing, - Unharmed by winter’s snows, - Another winter cometh - Ere all thy buds unclose; - Why wilt thou still aspire - Though losing thy desire? - - Mortal, with feeble hands - Striving some work to do, - Fate, with her cruel shears, - Doth all thy steps pursue; - Why wilt thou still aspire - Though losing thy desire? - -_The Roses, Newburgh, - -April 21, 1853._ - - - - -THE SOUL’S QUESTION - -_Inscribed to Rev. A. Dwight Mayo_ - - - Dear friend, in whom my soul abides, - Who rulest all its wayward tides, - Accept the feeble song I sing, - And read aright my stammering. - - -I - - As on my bed at night I lay, - My soul, who all the weary day - Had fought with thoughts of death and life, - Began again the bitter strife. - - -II - - This question would she ask, until - My tired eyes with tears would fill, - And overrun and fill again; - So that I cried out in my pain-- - - -III - - “When thou art made a heap of earth, - And all thy gain is nothing worth, - Where shall I go? Shall I too die - And fade in utter entity? - - -IV - - “Shall my fine essence be the sport - Of idle chance and fade to nought; - The morning dew upon the flower - Dried by the sunlight in an hour? - - -V - - “Doth God with careless eyes look down - On peopled slope and crowded town, - And, though he mark the sparrow’s death, - Think nothing _more_ of human breath? - - -VI - - “Or if I shall not die, but live-- - What other dwelling will he give - In which to lead another life - And wage anew the ended strife? - - -VII - - “Turn up to heaven thy streaming face, - And glance athwart the starry space; - What planet, burning in the blue, - Shall hold thy life begun anew?” - - -VIII - - I looked out on the still midnight, - A thousand stars were flashing bright; - Unclouded shone the sailing moon - And filled with pallor all the room. - - -IX - - The earth was hid with silver snow, - I heard the river’s steady flow, - I saw the moonlight softly fall - On running stream and mountain wall. - - -X - - I found no peace in gazing here; - The earth seemed cold and very drear; - River and mountain bathed in light, - Were grim and ghastly in my sight. - - -XI - - The mountain wall--a hand divine - Drew on the sky its perfect line-- - Said to my soul, “Of this be sure, - Thy race shall die, but I endure. - - -XII - - “And while I take the morning’s kiss - On my brows bathed in crimson bliss - Or listen to the eternal song - The seven great spheres in heaven prolong. - - -XIII - - “While on my sides the cedar grows - Through summer’s suns and winter’s snows, - Or while I rock my piny crown, - Whose high tops draw the lightning down, - - -XIV - - “So long as I in might endure - I watch man fading, swift and sure; - I smile, and whisper to my flowers, - Man dieth and the earth is ours--” - - -XV - - A scalding tear rolled down my cheek, - Through thickening sobs I strove to speak; - “Are those the hills I saw to-night - Mantled in pomp of purple light?” - - -XVI - - All day the earth on every side - Lay robed in vesture of a bride, - While lit on snow-wreathed bush and tree - The winter birds sang joyfully. - - -XVII - - The river sparkled cold and keen - With burnished tracts of wintry gleam; - Above, the sky’s unclouded blue - The smile of God on all things threw. - - -XVIII - - O’er hill and field elate I walked, - With all things fair by turns I talked; - I felt the God within me move - And nothing seemed too mean for Love. - - -XIX - - The flower of day that bloomed so fair - Closed on the perfumed evening air; - A holy calm o’er Nature stole - And bathed in prayer my happy soul. - - -XX - - A golden glory caught the world;-- - High up the crimson clouds were curled, - A purple splendor hid the sun - A moment--and the day was done. - - -XXI - - I gazed at will; my thankful eyes - Were bathed in dews of Paradise; - My heart ran out my God to meet, - And clasped his knees and kissed his feet. - - -XXII - - He led me like a little child - Whereso he would; the darkness smiled - Whereso we walked; such glory of light - Enshrined him, making very bright - - -XXIII - - Whatever darkness veiled my mind; - I looked on all the grief behind - As on a fevered dream. To-night - The peace is gone and gone the light - - -XXIV - - I prayed for sleep, an earnest prayer - I thought that God would surely hear; - Yet, though my tears fell fast and free, - He kept his boon of sleep from me. - - -XXV - - Again my soul her quest began-- - “Must I too fall beneath the ban? - And, if I die not in thy death, - Where shall I live who am but breath? - - -XXVI - - “When the frame stiffens into stone, - And death and it are left alone, - And round about it in the grave - The rat shall gnaw and winds shall rave, - - -XXVII - - “Shall I within the dwelling stay - To watch above the heap of clay, - And while the dreary ages roll - Lie housed in earth, a prisoned soul?” - - -XXVIII - - If this be Hell, to sit and hear - The hum of life from year to year, - Yet have no part nor lot in all - That men do on this earthly ball, - - -XXIX - - But sit and watch from hour to hour - The slow decay of beauty and power, - And when the last faint trace is gone - To sit there still and still watch on, - - -XXX - - While other men shall share my doom - And other souls within the tomb - Shall sit beside me dumb and pale - Forever in that fearful vale-- - - -XXXI - - With that, cold sweat ran down my face - I rose up straightway in my place - I lit my lamp, my Bible took - And sat to read the blessed Book. - - -XXXII - - I turned the pages to and fro - Not knowing where to read, and so - Sat very still with tightened breath - Till I could catch that one word--“death” - - -XXXIII - - “Cain”--the page blackened as I read - The awful name of him who led - God’s curse like lightning down to earth, - Blasting and scarring home and hearth. - - -XXXIV - - I turned the page; I read the line - Of those old men, the half divine, - Of whom no record is supplied - But, “thus he lived, and then, he died--” - - -XXXV - - Not any comfort could I find, - A sudden sickness seized my mind, - I felt my heart beat slow and weak - I tried to pray, I could not speak. - - -XXXVI - - Oh! bitterness beyond compare. - When our last refuge fades to air; - Where shall the hopeless soul repose, - For who is there that _surely knows_? - - -XXXVII - - I read how Saul in wild En-dor - Questioned the witch, and what he saw. - How Samuel’s ghost rose pale and grim - Out of the grave and answered him. - - -XXXVIII - - I read the awful words he said-- - “Why am I thus disquieted?” - “Disquieted”--what dreamless sleep - Weighed on his eyelids calm and deep? - - -XXXIX - - Thereat I shook from head to foot-- - I made no cry, my heart was mute; - I could not call on God, nor pray, - For all my faith had fled away. - - -XL - - As when a man, who in a dream - To slide down some blank wall shall seem, - Clutches at air, strikes out in vain - His helpless hands and shrieks with pain, - - -XLI - - While all the air with mocking eyes - Is full, foul shapes and soundless cries - That laugh to scorn his deadly fear - With laughter that he swoons to hear, - - -XLII - - And swooning wakes: my helpless soul - Felt the dim waves above her roll, - The firm earth slide beneath her feet, - And all her agony complete. - - -XLIII - - I read that Christ had conquered Death - By giving up his holy breath; - And calling Lazarus by his name - Had brought him back to life again. - - -XLIV - - What these things mean I cannot say; - They do not drive my fear away, - For where was Lazarus when he heard - The voice of Christ pronounce that word? - - -XLV - - Was he within the voiceless tomb - Beside his sometime earthly home, - Watching the slowly changing form - Yield to the touch of mole and worm? - - -XLVI - - Or was he in some blessed place - A saint, with glory in his face; - And did he drop, a gliding star - Down to the earth where mortals are? - - -XLVII - - And clothe himself in dust again - To share the bitter life of men, - To live a few dark years below - And back again to glory go? - - -XLVIII - - This thought raised up my fainting heart - And somewhat eased the deadly smart, - My lips began to move in prayer-- - My soul to breathe a freer air. - - -XLIX - - I prayed for peace, I prayed for trust; - I prayed to feel that God is just; - I prayed that let what would befall - I still might trust Him over all. - - -L - - And whether sunk in deadly gloom - The soul must rest within the tomb; - Or sit within God’s awful light - To which the sun’s blaze is as night? - - -LI - - Or shape its course from life to life - And waxing strong in endless strife, - Through everlasting years pursue - The work that God shall give to do? - - -LII - - I might, without a fear, lay down - When he shall call, my earthly crown, - Trusting that he who gave me breath - Will keep me in the day of death. - - -LIII - - I looked again upon the earth. - The day rejoicèd in its birth; - And on the sullen rack afar - Trembled the fading morning star! - -_Written 1849._ - - - - -ASSERTION - - - Too late, I drew from scanty springs - The barren cheer that in them lies. - Too late, I fettered eager wings - That longed to bathe in bluer skies. - - Too late, I squandered golden hours - God gave me for his praise to spend. - Too late, I gathered idle flowers - Forgetful of my journey’s end. - - God needs my deed; however small - The help I lend, to work his will, - Not without grief he sees me fall. - Or fail his purpose to fulfil. - -_New York, March 1, 1854._ - - - - -THE APPLE - - - I picked an apple from the ground, - A perfect apple, red and round. - Its spicy perfume shy and sweet, - Stole from the ground beneath my feet, - Borne on a wind that lightly flew, - Through the deep dome of cloudless blue. - A swarm of ants had found the prize, - Before it met my wandering eyes, - And careless in their busy pleasure, - Ran o’er and o’er the fragrant treasure. - I blew them off, nor cared to know - Whither the luckless things might go. - So He who holdeth in his hand - This perfect world on which we stand, - Blows us, ah, whither? with His breath, - Our friends who miss us call it “Death!” - - - - -FOR EASTER DAY - - -I - - This is the Easter! - Day of rejoicing! - Day of renewing! - See how the roseate, - Delicate, virginal - Feet of the Morning - Haste o’er the mountains - Joyful to meet her! - - -II - - Welcome the Easter! - Day of renewing! - Day of rejoicing! - The snow has departed, - The rain is assuaged, - The winter is gone! - Lo! on Earth’s bosom - The rainbow of promise, - The rainbow of springtime, - The rainbow of flowers! - - -III - - This is the Easter! - Day of uprising! - Day of renewing! - Heart, take new courage! - Look no more downward! - See, the sun rising! - Hark, the bird singing! - See, the grass springing! - The brook floweth free! - Hand to the plough, man! - Cut deep the furrow, - Cast thy seed strongly! - - Think not of sorrow! - Of death or of sin! - To-day, let thy future - Burst from its cerements,-- - Roll back the Grave stone! - To-day, Life immortal! - Oh, mortal! begin! - -_New York, April 2, 1877._ - - - - -ON ONE WHO DIED IN MAY - -_John H. Ellis, May 3, 1870_ - - - Why Death, what dost thou, here, - This time o’ year? - Peach-blow, and apple-blossom; - Clouds, white as my love’s bosom; - Warm wind o’ the West - Cradling the robin’s nest; - Young meadows, hasting their green laps to fill - With golden dandelion and daffodil;-- - These are fit sights for spring; - But, oh, thou hateful thing, - What dost thou here? - - Why, Death, what dost thou here - This time o’ year? - Fair, at the old oak’s knee, - The young anemone; - Fair, the plash places set - With dog-tooth violet; - The first sloop-sail, - The shad-flower pale; - Sweet are all sights, - Sweet are all sounds of Spring; - But thou, thou ugly thing, - What dost thou, here? - - Dark Death let fall a tear. - Why am I here? - Oh, heart ungrateful! Will man never know - I am his friend, nor ever was his foe? - Whose the sweet season, then, if it be not mine? - Mine, not the bobolink’s, that song divine - Chasing the shadows o’er the flying wheat! - ’Tis a dead voice, not his, that sounds so sweet. - Whose passionate heart burns in this flaming rose - But his, whose passionate heart long since lay still? - Whose wan hope pales this nun-like lily tall, - Beside the garden wall, - But hers, whose radiant eyes and lily grace, - Sleep in the grave that crowns yon tufted hill! - All Hope, all Memory - Have their deep springs in me, - And Love, that else might fade, - By me immortal made, - Spurns at the grave, leaps to the welcoming skies, - And burns a steadfast star to steadfast eyes. - - - - -THE YEW TREE - - - Take this small slip of sombre yew - And lay it on thy breast; - There, underneath thy downcast eyes, - Let the sad emblem rest-- - Thy tears may fall upon it. - - I pulled it from a little tree - That just begins to grow-- - Once only has it seen the sun - And only once the snow-- - Thy tears may rain upon it. - - The garden where it grew is sad - Before all other places, - Death’s shadow up and down its walks - Forever darkly paces-- - Thy tears have fallen in it. - - These yew trees stand, a pallid ring - Upon the sunlit lawn-- - He planted them the very year - That we were left to mourn-- - Our tears fell freely for it. - - They stood like mourners round a grave - Who look within, to see - Where lie the ashes, while the fire - Spires upward, clear and free. - - - - -THE IMMORTAL - - - Somewhere in silent starry lands, - Forlorn with cold or faint with heat, - He folds his ever active hands, - And rest his never-resting feet. - - A windless light illumes his skies; - A moonless night, a sunless day, - Unheeded by his careless eyes, - Arise, and fade, and pass away. - - All day his constant thoughts recall - The blissful past, forever fled; - A golden light illumines all - The ghostly memories of the dead. - - Once more adown his garden walks - He moves serene from flower to flower: - His wife beside him gaily talks, - He listens gladly hour by hour. - - But when he turns to kiss the lips, - Or when he thinks the form to press - Of her he loves--his hope’s eclipse - Renews the former bitterness. - - In nightly dreams his tireless wings - Convey him far to where she lies - Folded in slumber, while he sings - Low in her ear his lullabies. - - He wakes--the happy dream is o’er, - The slow, dull heart-ache gnaws again, - Within his soul forevermore - A long-enduring death of pain. - - With her the suns arise and set, - The singing stars renew their light, - Deep in her heart one wild regret - Moans for his presence day and night. - - I well believe God loves thee still, - To whatsoever planet borne; - Breathing the bright auroral airs - That haunt some glad eternal morn. - - Walking with fair, unclouded eyes - Beside the slow unfailing streams, - Lulled in the memories of the Past, - An ever gliding dance of dreams. - - The ills that fret our feeble hearts, - The toils in which thy life had share, - The slender joys that make us glad - In quiet moments snatched from care. - - These memories of a vanished life, - Pass dim before thine altered mind, - As visions of the earth and sky - Come to a man whose eyes are blind. - - To whom the sun in cloudless light - Forever shines; forever grow - The flowers; the woods in beauty wave - Unchanged; the constant planets glow. - - All night above thy peaceful head, - The sky is bright with burning stars; - To thee the opening morning brings - No news of peace, nor sound of wars; - Sole tenant of thy starry home; - Uncheered by friend, unvexed by foe; - Down the slow tide of lapsing time - Thy tranquil days in silence go. - - Waiting with calm, expectant eyes - The hour that makes her wholly thine - Secure from all the blows of Fate - And all the mischiefs wrought by Time. - -_Mrs. Downing’s, April, 1853._ - - - - -TWO MAYS - - - Here is the stile on which I leaned;-- - This golden willow bending over;-- - Yonder’s the same blue sky that gleamed - The day that I murmured, “I am thy lover.” - - This is the stone on which she sat; - See here the bright moss freshly springing, - And look! overhead the same bluebirds - Back and forth from the old nest winging. - - Here is the briar whose flowers she pulled - Leaf by leaf as she heard my pleading. - Swayed by the same idle April wind - That laughed as it flew, Love’s pang unheeding. - - Sky, trees, flowers--the same; but _I_?-- - Am I the same boy whose wild heart burning - Leapt to one heart in the sweet wild world! - Stilled on one bosom its passionate yearning? - - Silk-soft hair and hazel eyes, - Limbs that lightly moved or stood - And a heart that beat with a loyal love - For all things beautiful, true and good. - - Follies that flecked this fairest fruit, - Sins that spotted this whitest page, - Changed without, but the same within, - Life’s rose untouched by the frost of age. - - Thou, too, beloved, art still the same, - Deep heart, passionate, tender and true, - The same clear spirit and glancing wit - Piercing the armor of folly through. - - Sad, olivaster, Spanish face, - Sweet low brow under shadowy hair, - Dark eyes mingled of tears and fire, - Voice like a song-bird’s heard through a prayer. - - Time! if thou steal her girlish beauty, - Leave her spirit undimmed and free. - Touch the rose with thy frosty fingers, - But the rose’s perfume stays with me. - - - - -WIND HARPINGS - - - Faint smell of box - In the evening air, - Faint bleat of flocks - From fields afar; - On the gray rocks, - The lap and lapse - Of the wan water. - - The sunset fields - Stretch fair and far. - Mid the winrowed clouds - The sickle moon - Has clipt a star! - Pale golden bloom! - First flower of the night! - It trembles down - To the sunset streak, - Light lost in light! - - In the pleached bower, - In the garden old, - Hand closed in hand, - We sit together. - We do not speak. - A wind from the pine - With fingers fine, - Lays her warm hair - Against my cheek. - - Sweet silent hour! - As flower to flower - Heart speaks to heart - As star to star! - Oh, hawthorn bower - Oh, garden old - How dear, how sad - Your memories are! - - - - -A VALENTINE - - - Bring me my lute, the sunlight fades; - The evening breezes, soft and low, - From the far South begin to blow. - - Here will I watch the dying day: - Here will I watch the pallid skies - Flush with a myriad changing dyes. - - What joy to see the fairy moon - Cradled in folds of rosy light, - The baby sovereign of the night. - - What joy to hear, from far away, - The rolling mill-stream roaring go - Between his banks of ice and snow; - - Or from the distant mountain’s side, - To hear the murmuring wind, that brings - Promise of Spring between its wings. - - Here at my window will I sit; - Here, will I let the peaceful hour - Try on my heart her aëry power. - - This happy season sings of Thee, - Where’er I turn my careless eyes - Thine image will before them rise; - - Not as thou art in human form; - I cannot shape thy phantom so, - The fleeting shadows come and go. - - Thy face is fair with roseate bloom-- - I lift my eyes and lo! the sun - Reddens the cloud he looks upon-- - - Thine eyes with deepening azure smile-- - Beyond the hills a line of blue - Recalls the sunlit morning’s dew. - - On either side thy thoughtful brow - Thy golden hair is floating free-- - Yon golden cloud is fair to see-- - - As floating from the purple West, - Its glory slowly gathers dun - And fadeth with the fading sun. - - Ah! was it all an idle dream? - A fleeting sunset fed my thought, - And all this cloudy vision wrought? - - Or does the maiden somewhere bloom - Whom Nature cannot paint aright - Her beauty is so passing bright? - - - - -COMING--COME - - - How dreary are the crowded streets - With not a soul abroad! - How sunless is the sunny sky! - No fire on hearth, no mirth at board! - How long the nights, how slow the day! - My love’s away! My love’s away! - - How gay the crowded city streets! - How cheerily shines the sun! - Dances the fire, and round the board - From lip to lip the greetings run! - No longer in the dumps I roam-- - My love’s come home! My love’s come home! - - - - -ULYSSES AND THE SIRENS - - - Oh ye maids, with deep and rosy bosoms! - Oh ye maids, with darkly flowing locks! - Wherefore is it that with songs ye woo me - Sitting in the shadows of the rocks? - - Well hath she, the enchantress Circe told me, - All the evil that shall on me fall; - If I follow where your white feet lead me - Or give answer when your voices call. - - Oh my comrades, bind me to the mainmast, - Stop my ears with wax and bind my hands, - Close my eyes that so no sight nor murmur - Of the singer or the song steal to me from the sands. - - In the west the blood-red sun is sinking. - And the angry billows redly glow, - With the dying breeze the song is dying. - Ply the oars, my comrades, let us go! - -_Tarrytown, 1844._ - - - - -OTTILIA - -_Miss Mary Hamilton, afterwards Mrs. George Schuyler_ - - - A low, sad brow with folded hair; - From whose deep night one pallid rose - White moonlight through the darkness throws. - - A head, whose lordly, only crown - Of Pride, Olympian Juno might - Have worn for the great God’s delight. - - Deep eyes immixed of Night and Fire, - In whose large motion you might see - Her royal soul lived royally. - - Unstained by any earthly soil, - And only caring to walk straight - The road ordained to her by Fate. - - Her jewelled hands across the keys - Flashed through the twilight of the room, - A double light of gem and tune. - - Still while she played you saw that hand - Glide ghostly white, and fearless wave - Dead faces up from Memory’s grave. - - The firelight flickered on the wall; - Sweet tears came to the heart’s relief; - She sat and sang us into grief. - - Yet now, she played some liquid song, - A happy lover would have sung, - If once he could have found a tongue-- - - And now the sparkling octaves ran - Through the quick dance, where tangled braid - Now caught the sunlight, now the shade. - - And now the boatman’s evening song, - As, rowing homeward down the stream, - He sees his maiden’s garments gleam - - Beside the trees, the trysting-place; - While the sad singer whippoorwill, - Cries from the willow by the mill. - - Yet, howsoe’er her music ran, - A sigh was in it, and a sense - Of some dead voice that called us hence; - - A voice that even now I hear, - Although the hand that touched those keys - Rests on her heart, that sleeps in peace. - -_Newburgh, January 16, 1854._ - - - - -A PORTRAIT - -_Mrs. Carroll Dunham, September, 1877._ - - - I know not wherein lay the charm - She had in those remembered days. - The Olympian gait, the welcoming hand, - The frank soul looking from her face, - - The manly manners all her own-- - Nor yet coquette, nor cold, nor free: - She puzzled, being each in turn; - Or dazzled, mingling all the three. - - Out of those gowns, so quaintly rich-- - They grew, unshaped by Milan’s shears!-- - Rose, like a tower, the ivory throat - Ringed with the rings the Clytie wears. - - But, when you sought the Roman face - That on such columns grew--and grows! - You found this wonder in its stead-- - The sea-shell’s curves, the sea-shell’s rose! - - Her eyes, the succory’s way-side blue; - Her lips, the wilding way-side rose: - But, Beauty dreamed a prouder dream, - Throned on her forehead’s moonlit snows. - - And, over all, the wreathéd hair - That caught the sunset’s streaming gold, - Where, now, a crocus bud was set, - Or violet, hid in the braided fold! - - But, she, so deep her conscious pride, - So sure her knowledge she was fair-- - What gowns she wore, or silk, or serge, - She seemed to neither know, nor care. - - She smiled on cat, or frowned on friend, - Or gave her horse the hand denied. - To-day, bewitched you with her wit, - To-morrow, snubbed you from her side. - - Loyal to truth, yet wed to whim, - She held in fee her constant mind. - Whatever tempests drove her bark, - You felt her soul’s deep anchor bind. - - In that dark day when, fever-driven, - Her wits went wandering up and down, - And seeming-cruel, friendly shears - Closed on her girl-head’s glorious crown, - - Another woman might have wept - To see such gold so idly spilled. - She only smiled, as curl and coil - Fell, till the shearer’s lap was filled; - - Then softly said: “Hair-sunsets fade - As when night clips day’s locks of gold! - Dear Death, thy priestly hands I bless, - And, nun-like, seek thy convent-fold!” - - Then slept, nor woke. O miser Death, - What gold thou hidest in thy dust! - What ripest beauty there decays, - What sharpest wits there go to rust! - - Hide not this jewel with the rest-- - Base gems whose color fled thy breath-- - But, worn on thine imperial hand, - Make all the world in love with Death! - - - - -SONNET - -TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN - -_Dedicated to E. C. H._ - - - Oft had I heard thy beauty praised, dear flower, - And often searched for thee through field and wood, - Yet could I never find the secret bower - Where thou dost lead in maiden solitude - A cloistered life; but on one happy day - Wandering in idle thought, with a dear friend, - Through dying woods, listening the robin’s lay, - I saw thy fairy flowers whose azure gemmed - The fading grass beneath a cedar’s boughs. - Oh never yet so glad a sight has met - These eyes of mine! Depart, before the snows - Of hastening winter thy fringed garments wet. - Thine azure flowers should never fade nor die, - But bloom, exhale, and gain their native sky. - -_November, 1849._ - - - - -TO GIULIA, SINGING - - - Sing me the song again, and yet again - Waken the music as it dies away; - Make twilight sadder with it, nor refrain - While yet these sighing winds bemoan the day. - Still let that wavering voice - Make my young heart rejoice, - Even tho’ one truant tear adown my cheek may stray. - - Cease not thy singing, dearest, for mine eyes - Feed on thy beauty, and I hear the song - As one who, looking on the sunset skies, - Hears over flowery meads the south winds blow, - And down the purple hills the flashing waters flow. - - An idle song; I cannot tell the meaning, - Yet, sing I o’er and o’er, for in its wings - It bringeth heavenly things: - Dear memories of melodious hours, - When all earth’s weeds were flowers; - Dear memories of the loved ones far away - Whom yet we hope to greet some happy day; - Dear memories of the travellers from Life’s shore, - Whom we shall greet again, ah! nevermore. - - Cease, lady! Sing some song that brings again - The golden past, meet for this sunset hour; - Some breath of melody not fraught with pain, - Some gayly-tinted flower! - Let thy fair hand float o’er the willing keys, - And all my sorrows ease. - -_Home Journal, 1852._ - - - - -YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY - - - But yesterday the laughing sun - Came dancing up the rosy East-- - You would have thought that it was May; - The birds sang clear on every spray. - - The heart with fuller motion beat, - The sad eye flashed with brighter fire; - Down to the ground the sunbeams came - And lit the crocus’ slender flame. - - The branches of the lonely pine - Rocked to a glad harmonious hymn. - The song-bird’s music and the breeze - With double laughter shook the trees - - That cluster round the southern wall, - A feathery fringe against the sky; - Their yellow branches in the sun - Are very fair to look upon. - - Far down between the rounded hills, - I watched a wreath of morning mist - Floating in shadow--rising slow, - The sunlight glorified its snow. - - The day was blesséd. Field and hill - Dreamed, bathed in light and lulled with sound. - All day my soul at peace within - Went carolling her joyful hymn. - - * * * * * - - To-day you cannot see the sun, - A blinding mist blots out the sky. - You hear the angry waters flow, - You hear the wintry breezes blow. - - The branches of the lonely pine - Mutter and sigh tossed to and fro; - The birds that chanted in the sun - Sit in the covert cold and dumb. - - The maiden Spring that Yesterday - Was born, To-Day, alas! is dead. - The pitying heavens drop over all - This silent snow for fittest pall. - - The sobbing winds her requiem sing; - The plashing waves upon the shore - Sigh hour by hour; the dreary day - In mist and silence fades away. - - The heart is wintry as the earth-- - Tossed with the storm, and drenched with gloom, - And dark with doubts that round her throng, - To choke with tears her heavenly song. - -_March 18, 1852._ - - - - -A SONNET IN PRAISE OF HIS LADY’S HANDS - -_Translated from the Italian of “Qualcheduns.”_ - - - How beautiful it is - To see my lady’s hands; - Whether adorned with rings, - Or with their snowy lengths - And rosy tips, - Undecked with gems of gold. - - When her light work she plies, - Creating mimic flowers, - Or drawing the fair thread - Through folds of snowy lawn. - How beautiful it is - To see my lady’s hands; - Often I, sitting, watch - Their gliding to and fro, - These lovely birds of snow. - - Sometimes the evening shades - Draw around us as we talk, - Sometimes the tired sun, - Drooping towards the West, - Makes all the fields of heaven - With autumn’s colors glow; - Sometimes the sailing moon, - Unclouded and serene, - Rises between the misty woods - That crown the distant hills; - Then most I love to sit - And watch my lady’s hands - Blush with the sunset’s rose, - Or whiten in the moon, - Or, lucid in the amber evening air, - Folded, repose. - - Sometimes she paces slowly - Among the garden flowers; - Above her the trees tremble, - And lean their leafage down, - So much they love to see her; - The flowers, white and red, - Open their fragrant eyes, - Gladder to hear her coming - Than birds singing, - Or bees humming. - She, stooping, clad in grace, - Gathers them one by one, - Lily and crimson rose, - With sprigs of tender green, - And holds them in her hands. - - Nothing can sweeter be - Than, lying on the lawn, - To see those graceful hands - Drop all their odorous load - Upon her snowy lap, - And then, with magic skill - And rosy fingers fine, - To watch her intertwine - Some wreath, not all unfitting - Young brows divine. - - How beautiful it is - To see my lady’s hands; - In moonlight sorrowful, - Or sunlight fire, - Busied with graceful toil, - Or folded in repose, - How beautiful it is - To see my lady’s hands. - -[Illustration: Signature, Clarence Cook] - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Clarence Cook - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 53072-0.txt or 53072-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/0/7/53072/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Poems - -Author: Clarence Cook - -Release Date: September 17, 2016 [EBook #53072] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Chuck Greif and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p class="c">POEMS</p> - -<p class="c">OF</p> - -<p class="c">CLARENCE COOK</p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/i_frontis_lg.jpg"> -<img src="images/i_frontis_sml.jpg" - class="figcentered" -alt="Image unavailable: CLARENCE C. COOK - -AT THE AGE OF 36 - -FROM A PEN-AND-INK DRAWING MADE IN 1864 BY THOMAS C. FARRAR, PUPIL OF -JOHN RUSKIN" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption"><big>CLARENCE C. COOK</big> -<br /> -AT THE AGE OF 36 -<br /> -FROM A PEN-AND-INK DRAWING MADE IN 1864<br /> BY THOMAS C. FARRAR, PUPIL OF -JOHN RUSKIN</span> -</div> - -<div class="bbox"> -<h1>POEMS</h1> - -<p class="cb">BY -<br /><br /> -CLARENCE COOK<br /> -<br /><br /> -<img src="images/colophon.jpg" -alt="[image of the colophon unavailable.]" - /><br /> -<br /><br /> -NEW YORK<br /> -<br /> -1902<br /> <br /> -</p> -</div> - -<p class="c"><small> -COPYRIGHT, 1902<br /> -BY LOUISA W. COOK<br /> -<br /> -<br /> -PRIVATELY PRINTED<br /> -AT THE GILLISS PRESS, NEW YORK<br /> -FOR LOUISA W. COOK<br /> -AND HER FRIENDS<br /> -1902<br /></small> -<br /><br /><br /> -THIS LITTLE VOLUME<br /> -OF PUBLISHED AND UNPUBLISHED VERSES<br /> -BY THE LATE<br /> -<br /> -CLARENCE COOK<br /> -<br /> -IS DEDICATED TO HIS MANY FRIENDS AND LOVERS<br /> -<br />BY HIS WIFE<br /> -<br /> -LOUISA W. COOK<br /> -</p> - -<h2><a name="CHRONOLOGY" id="CHRONOLOGY"></a>CHRONOLOGY</h2> - -<h3>1828</h3> - -<p>September 8th, Clarence Chatham Cook born at Dorchester, Massachusetts.</p> - -<h3>1849</h3> - -<p>Graduated at Harvard College.</p> - -<p>Studied architecture for a season. Then became a tutor. Lectured on Art -and gave readings from Shakespeare’s plays.</p> - -<h3>1852</h3> - -<p>Married Tuesday, October 26th, to Louisa De Wint Whittemore, widow of -Samuel Whittemore of New York City.</p> - -<h3>1863</h3> - -<p>Began a series of articles published in the <i>New York Tribune</i>, on -“American Art and Artists.”</p> - -<h3>1864</h3> - -<p>Editor of <i>The New Path</i>, a pre-Raphaelite journal published in New -York.</p> - -<h3>1868</h3> - -<p>Published “The Central Park.”</p> - -<h3>1869</h3> - -<p>Paris correspondent of <i>The New York Tribune</i>. Went to Italy at the -outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war.</p> - -<h3>1870</h3> - -<p>Returned to the United States and renewed his connection with <i>The New -York Tribune</i>.</p> - -<h3>1874</h3> - -<p>Wrote the text of a heliotype reproduction of Dürer’s “Life of the -Virgin.”</p> - -<h3>1878</h3> - -<p>Completed “The House Beautiful” and edited, with notes, the translation -of Lübke’s “History of Art.”</p> - -<h3>1884</h3> - -<p>Editor and proprietor of <i>The Studio</i>, a monthly magazine of art -published in New York.</p> - -<h3>1886</h3> - -<p>Published an illustrated work in three large volumes entitled “Art and -Artists of Our Time.”</p> - -<h3>1900</h3> - -<p>Clarence Chatham Cook died at Fishkill-on-the-Hudson May 31, aged 72 -years.</p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td> </td><td align="right"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#CHRONOLOGY">Chronology</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#CHRONOLOGY">vii</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_MAPLE_TREE">The Maple Tree</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_1">1</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ABRAM_AND_ZIMRI">Abram and Zimri</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_6">6</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#AN_APRIL_VIOLET">An April Violet</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_10">10</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#REGRET">Regret</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#LENNUI">L’Ennui</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_14">14</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ASPIRATION">Aspiration</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_16">16</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_SOULS_QUESTION">The Soul’s Question</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_18">18</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ASSERTION">Assertion</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_32">32</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_APPLE">The Apple</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#FOR_EASTER_DAY">For Easter Day</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_34">34</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ON_ONE_WHO_DIED_IN_MAY">On One Who Died in May</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_YEW_TREE">The Yew Tree</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_39">39</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#THE_IMMORTAL">The Immortal</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TWO_MAYS">Two Mays</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_45">45</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#WIND_HARPINGS">Wind Harpings</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_47">47</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_VALENTINE">A Valentine</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#COMING_COME">Coming—Come</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_52">52</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#ULYSSES_AND_THE_SIRENS">Ulysses and the Sirens</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_53">53</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#OTTILIA">Ottilia</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_54">54</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_PORTRAIT">A Portrait</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#SONNET">Sonnet</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_60">60</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#TO_GIULIA_SINGING">To Giulia, Singing</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_61">61</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#YESTERDAY_AND_TO-DAY">Yesterday and To-Day</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_63">63</a></td></tr> -<tr><td valign="top"><a href="#A_SONNET_IN_PRAISE_OF_HIS_LADYS_HANDS">A Sonnet in Praise of His Lady’s Hands</a></td><td align="right"><a href="#page_66">66</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p class="c"> -POEMS<br /> -<br /> -<small>BY</small><br /> -<br /> -CLARENCE COOK<br /> -</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1"></a>{1}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_MAPLE_TREE" id="THE_MAPLE_TREE"></a>THE MAPLE TREE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>N April sun with April showers<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Had burst the buds of lagging flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From their fresh leaves the violets’ eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mirrored the deep blue of the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The daffodils, in clustering ranks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fringed with their spears the garden banks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with the blooms I love so well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their paper buds began to swell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While every bush and every tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burgeoned with flowers of melody;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the quick robin with his range<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of silver notes, a warbling change,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which he from sad to merry drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sparkling shower of tuneful dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the brown sparrow in the wheat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A plaintive whistle clear and sweet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over my head the royal sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spread clear from cloud his canopy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2"></a>{2}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The idle noon slept far and wide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On misty hill and river side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And far below me glittering lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mirror of the azure bay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stood beneath the maple tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its crimson blooms enchanted me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its honey perfume haunted me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drew me thither unaware,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A nameless influence in the air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its boughs were hung with murmuring bees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who robbed it of its sweetnesses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their cheerful humming, loud and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drowned with its bass the robin’s song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And filled the April noontide air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Labor’s universal prayer.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I paused to listen—soon I heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sound of neither bee nor bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sullen murmur mixed with cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rose and fell upon the ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the wind might—yet far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unstirred the sleeping river lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And even across the hillside wheat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No silvery ripples wandered fleet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was the murmur of the town,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3"></a>{3}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">No song of bird or bee could drown—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rattling wheels along the street,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pushing crowd with hasty feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The schoolboy’s call, the gossip’s story,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lawyer’s purchased oratory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glib-tongued shopman with his wares,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chattering schoolgirl with her airs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moaning sick man on his bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The coffin nailing for the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The new-born infant’s lusty wail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bells that bade the bridal hail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The factory’s wheels that round and round<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forever turn, and with their sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make the young children deaf to all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s voices that about them call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet sounds of bird and wind and wave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Life no gladder than a grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">These myriad, mingled human voices,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These intertwined and various noises<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made up the murmur that I heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the sweet hymn of bee and bird.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I said—“If all these sounds of life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With which the noontide air is rife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These busy murmurings of the bee<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4"></a>{4}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robbing the honied maple tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These warblings of the song-birds’ voices,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With which the blooming hedge rejoices,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These harsher mortal chords that rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mar Earth’s anthem to the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If all these sounds fall on my ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So little varying—yet so near—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How can I tell if God can know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cry of human joy or woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the loud humming of the bee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the blithe robin’s melody?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God sitteth somewhere in his heaven—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About him sing the planets seven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With every thought a world is made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To grow in sun or droop in shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He holds Creation like a flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In his right hand—an æon’s hour—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It fades, it dies,—another’s bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes the air sweet with fresh perfume.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, did he listen on that day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To what the rolling Earth might say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, did he mark, as, one by one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gliding hours in light were spun?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if he heard the choral hymn<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5"></a>{5}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Earth sent up to honor him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which note rose sweetest to his ear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which murmur did he gladliest hear?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>The Roses, April, 1853.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6"></a>{6}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ABRAM_AND_ZIMRI" id="ABRAM_AND_ZIMRI"></a>ABRAM AND ZIMRI<br /><br /> -<small><i>Poem founded on a Rabinnical Legend</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>BRAM and Zimri owned a field together,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">A level field, hid in a happy vale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They ploughed it with one plough, and in the spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sowed, walking side by side, the fruitful grain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each carried to his home one-half the sheaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stored them, with much labor, in his barns.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now Abram had a wife and seven sons,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Zimri dwelt alone within his house.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One night, before the sheaves were gathered in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Zimri lay upon his lonely bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And counted in his mind his little gains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He thought upon his brother Abram’s lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And said, “I dwell alone within my house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Abram hath a wife and seven sons;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He surely needeth more for life than I:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will arise and gird myself, and go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down to the field, and add to his from mine.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7"></a>{7}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">So he arose and girded up his loins,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And went out softly to the level field.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon shone out from dusky bars of clouds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trees stood black against the cold blue sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The branches waved and whispered in the wind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So Zimri, guided by the shifting light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went down the mountain path, and found the field;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took from his store of sheave a generous third,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bore them gladly to his brother’s heap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then went back to sleep and happy dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now that same night, as Abram lay in bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking upon his blissful state in life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He thought upon his brother Zimri’s lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And said, “He dwells within his house alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He goeth forth to toil with few to help,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He goeth home at night to a cold house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hath few other friends but me and mine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(For these two tilled the happy vale alone),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I, whom Heaven hath very greatly blessed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dwell happy with my wife and seven sons,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who aid me in my toil, and make it light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet we share the harvest sheaves alike;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This, surely, is not pleasing unto God.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8"></a>{8}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will arise and gird myself, and go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out to the field, and borrow from my store,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And add unto my brother Zimri’s pile.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So he arose and girded up his loins,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And went down softly to the level field.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon shone out from silver bars of clouds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trees stood black against the starry sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dark leaves waved and whispered in the breeze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So Abram, guided by the doubtful light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passed down the mountain path, and found the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took from his store of sheaves a generous third,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And added them unto his brother’s heap;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then he went back to sleep and happy dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So the next morning, with the early sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brothers rose and went out to their toil;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when they came to see the heavy sheaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each wondered in his heart to find his heap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though he had given a third, was still the same.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now the next night went Zimri to the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took from his store of sheaves a generous share<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9"></a>{9}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And placed them on his brother Abram’s heap;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then lay down behind his pile to watch.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon looked out from bars of silvery cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cedars stood up black against the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The olive branches whispered in the wind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then Abram came down softly from his home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, looking to the left and right, went on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took from his ample store a generous third,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laid it on his brother Zimri’s pile.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then Zimri rose and caught him in his arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wept upon his neck and kissed his cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Abram saw the whole, and could not speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neither could Zimri, for their hearts were full.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10"></a>{10}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="AN_APRIL_VIOLET" id="AN_APRIL_VIOLET"></a>AN APRIL VIOLET</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">P</span>ALE flower, that by this stone<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Sweetenest the air alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While round thee falls the snow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the rude wind doth blow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What thought doth make thee pine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale Flower, can I divine?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say, does this trouble thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all things fickle be?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind that buffets so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was kind an hour ago.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun, a cloud doth hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cheered thee at morning tide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The busy pleasuring bee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sought thee for company.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The little sparrows near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang thee their ballads clear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maples on thy head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their spicy blossoms shed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11"></a>{11}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Because the storm made dumb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild bees booming hum;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because for shivering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sparrows cannot sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this the reason why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou look’st so woefully?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-morrow’s laughing sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will cheer thee, pallid one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-morrow will bring back<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gay bee on his track,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bursting thy cloister dim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his wild roistering.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Canst thou not wait the morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rids thee of thy sorrow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Art thou too desolate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To smile at any fate?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then there is naught for thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Death’s delivery.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>The Roses, May 4, 1853.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12"></a>{12}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="REGRET" id="REGRET"></a>REGRET</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>OOK out, sad heart, through wintry eyes<br /></span> -<span class="ih">To see thy summer go:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How pallid are thy bluest skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Behind this veiling snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look out upon thy purple hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That all the summer long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughed with an hundred laughing rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sang their summer song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You only see the sheeted snow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That covers grass and tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The frozen streamlets cannot flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No bird dares sing to thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look out upon Life’s summer days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That fade like summer flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What golden fruitage for thy praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From all those bounteous hours?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13"></a>{13}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sings any bird, or any wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid thy falling leaves?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why is it, if thou look’st behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy heart forever grieves?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>Newburgh, January 4, 1854.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14"></a>{14}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="LENNUI" id="LENNUI"></a>L’ENNUI</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>H April grass, so truly<br /></span> -<span class="ih">My wish for spring divining,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh April sun, so gaily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In at my window shining,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">What cheer can ye impart<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Unto a faded heart?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh thoughts of Summer days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Born of the violet’s blue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh wooing western wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That maketh all things new—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">What cheer can ye impart<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Unto a faded heart?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh mountains brown and sere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mantled in morning light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh golden sunset sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrecked on the shores of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">What cheer can ye impart<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Unto a faded heart?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15"></a>{15}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh longings evermore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For some ungiven good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh yearnings to make clear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dimly understood,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">What cheer can ye impart<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Unto a faded heart?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cover thy weary eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With hands too weak for prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think on the happy past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From other thoughts forbear<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Which can no cheer impart<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Unto a hopeless heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>The Roses, April 20, 1853.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16"></a>{16}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ASPIRATION" id="ASPIRATION"></a>ASPIRATION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU sea, whose tireless waves<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Forever seek the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Striving to clamber higher,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet failing evermore;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why wilt thou still aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Though losing thy desire?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou sun, whose constant feet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mount ever to thy noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou canst not there remain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night quenches thee so soon;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why wilt thou still aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Though losing thy desire?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rose, in my garden growing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unharmed by winter’s snows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another winter cometh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere all thy buds unclose;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why wilt thou still aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Though losing thy desire?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17"></a>{17}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mortal, with feeble hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Striving some work to do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fate, with her cruel shears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth all thy steps pursue;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why wilt thou still aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Though losing thy desire?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="hang"> -<i>The Roses, Newburgh,<br /> -April 21, 1853.</i><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18"></a>{18}</span><br /> -</p> - -<h2><a name="THE_SOULS_QUESTION" id="THE_SOULS_QUESTION"></a>THE SOUL’S QUESTION<br /><br /> -<small><i>Inscribed to Rev. A. Dwight Mayo</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">D</span>EAR friend, in whom my soul abides,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Who rulest all its wayward tides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Accept the feeble song I sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And read aright my stammering.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As on my bed at night I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul, who all the weary day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had fought with thoughts of death and life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Began again the bitter strife.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This question would she ask, until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My tired eyes with tears would fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And overrun and fill again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that I cried out in my pain—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19"></a>{19}</span></p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When thou art made a heap of earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy gain is nothing worth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shall I go? Shall I too die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fade in utter entity?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Shall my fine essence be the sport<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of idle chance and fade to nought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The morning dew upon the flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dried by the sunlight in an hour?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>V</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Doth God with careless eyes look down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On peopled slope and crowded town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, though he mark the sparrow’s death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think nothing <i>more</i> of human breath?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Or if I shall not die, but live—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What other dwelling will he give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In which to lead another life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wage anew the ended strife?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20"></a>{20}</span></p> - -<h3>VII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Turn up to heaven thy streaming face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And glance athwart the starry space;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What planet, burning in the blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall hold thy life begun anew?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>VIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I looked out on the still midnight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand stars were flashing bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unclouded shone the sailing moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And filled with pallor all the room.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>IX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The earth was hid with silver snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard the river’s steady flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw the moonlight softly fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On running stream and mountain wall.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>X</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I found no peace in gazing here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth seemed cold and very drear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">River and mountain bathed in light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were grim and ghastly in my sight.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21"></a>{21}</span></p> - -<h3>XI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mountain wall—a hand divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drew on the sky its perfect line—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said to my soul, “Of this be sure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy race shall die, but I endure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And while I take the morning’s kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On my brows bathed in crimson bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or listen to the eternal song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The seven great spheres in heaven prolong.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“While on my sides the cedar grows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through summer’s suns and winter’s snows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or while I rock my piny crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose high tops draw the lightning down,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XIV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“So long as I in might endure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch man fading, swift and sure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I smile, and whisper to my flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Man dieth and the earth is ours—”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22"></a>{22}</span></p> - -<h3>XV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A scalding tear rolled down my cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through thickening sobs I strove to speak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Are those the hills I saw to-night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mantled in pomp of purple light?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XVI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day the earth on every side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay robed in vesture of a bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While lit on snow-wreathed bush and tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winter birds sang joyfully.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XVII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The river sparkled cold and keen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With burnished tracts of wintry gleam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above, the sky’s unclouded blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smile of God on all things threw.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XVIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’er hill and field elate I walked,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all things fair by turns I talked;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I felt the God within me move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nothing seemed too mean for Love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23"></a>{23}</span></p> - -<h3>XIX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flower of day that bloomed so fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Closed on the perfumed evening air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A holy calm o’er Nature stole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bathed in prayer my happy soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A golden glory caught the world;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High up the crimson clouds were curled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A purple splendor hid the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A moment—and the day was done.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I gazed at will; my thankful eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were bathed in dews of Paradise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart ran out my God to meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clasped his knees and kissed his feet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He led me like a little child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereso he would; the darkness smiled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereso we walked; such glory of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enshrined him, making very bright<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24"></a>{24}</span></p> - -<h3>XIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whatever darkness veiled my mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I looked on all the grief behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As on a fevered dream. To-night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The peace is gone and gone the light<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XIV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I prayed for sleep, an earnest prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought that God would surely hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, though my tears fell fast and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He kept his boon of sleep from me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Again my soul her quest began—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Must I too fall beneath the ban?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, if I die not in thy death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shall I live who am but breath?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXVI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When the frame stiffens into stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And death and it are left alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round about it in the grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rat shall gnaw and winds shall rave,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25"></a>{25}</span></p> - -<h3>XXVII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Shall I within the dwelling stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch above the heap of clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while the dreary ages roll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lie housed in earth, a prisoned soul?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXVIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If this be Hell, to sit and hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hum of life from year to year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet have no part nor lot in all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That men do on this earthly ball,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXIX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But sit and watch from hour to hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slow decay of beauty and power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the last faint trace is gone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sit there still and still watch on,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While other men shall share my doom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And other souls within the tomb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall sit beside me dumb and pale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forever in that fearful vale—<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26"></a>{26}</span></p> - -<h3>XXXI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With that, cold sweat ran down my face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I rose up straightway in my place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lit my lamp, my Bible took<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sat to read the blessed Book.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXXII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I turned the pages to and fro<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not knowing where to read, and so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat very still with tightened breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till I could catch that one word—“death”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXXIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Cain”—the page blackened as I read<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The awful name of him who led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s curse like lightning down to earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blasting and scarring home and hearth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXXIV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I turned the page; I read the line<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those old men, the half divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of whom no record is supplied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, “thus he lived, and then, he died—”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27"></a>{27}</span></p> - -<h3>XXXV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not any comfort could I find,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sudden sickness seized my mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I felt my heart beat slow and weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I tried to pray, I could not speak.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXXVI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! bitterness beyond compare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When our last refuge fades to air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shall the hopeless soul repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For who is there that <i>surely knows</i>?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXXVII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I read how Saul in wild En-dor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Questioned the witch, and what he saw.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How Samuel’s ghost rose pale and grim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the grave and answered him.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XXXVIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I read the awful words he said—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Why am I thus disquieted?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Disquieted”—what dreamless sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weighed on his eyelids calm and deep?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28"></a>{28}</span></p> - -<h3>XXXIX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thereat I shook from head to foot—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I made no cry, my heart was mute;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not call on God, nor pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all my faith had fled away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XL</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As when a man, who in a dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To slide down some blank wall shall seem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clutches at air, strikes out in vain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His helpless hands and shrieks with pain,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XLI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While all the air with mocking eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is full, foul shapes and soundless cries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That laugh to scorn his deadly fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With laughter that he swoons to hear,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XLII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And swooning wakes: my helpless soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Felt the dim waves above her roll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The firm earth slide beneath her feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her agony complete.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29"></a>{29}</span></p> - -<h3>XLIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I read that Christ had conquered Death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By giving up his holy breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And calling Lazarus by his name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had brought him back to life again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XLIV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What these things mean I cannot say;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They do not drive my fear away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For where was Lazarus when he heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voice of Christ pronounce that word?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XLV</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was he within the voiceless tomb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside his sometime earthly home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching the slowly changing form<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yield to the touch of mole and worm?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XLVI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or was he in some blessed place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A saint, with glory in his face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And did he drop, a gliding star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down to the earth where mortals are?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30"></a>{30}</span></p> - -<h3>XLVII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And clothe himself in dust again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To share the bitter life of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live a few dark years below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And back again to glory go?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XLVIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This thought raised up my fainting heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And somewhat eased the deadly smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lips began to move in prayer—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul to breathe a freer air.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>XLIX</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I prayed for peace, I prayed for trust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I prayed to feel that God is just;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I prayed that let what would befall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I still might trust Him over all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>L</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And whether sunk in deadly gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul must rest within the tomb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sit within God’s awful light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which the sun’s blaze is as night?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31"></a>{31}</span></p> - -<h3>LI</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or shape its course from life to life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waxing strong in endless strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through everlasting years pursue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The work that God shall give to do?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>LII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I might, without a fear, lay down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he shall call, my earthly crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trusting that he who gave me breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will keep me in the day of death.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>LIII</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I looked again upon the earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The day rejoicèd in its birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the sullen rack afar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembled the fading morning star!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>Written 1849.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32"></a>{32}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ASSERTION" id="ASSERTION"></a>ASSERTION</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>OO late, I drew from scanty springs<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The barren cheer that in them lies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too late, I fettered eager wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That longed to bathe in bluer skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Too late, I squandered golden hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God gave me for his praise to spend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too late, I gathered idle flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forgetful of my journey’s end.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God needs my deed; however small<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The help I lend, to work his will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not without grief he sees me fall.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or fail his purpose to fulfil.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>New York, March 1, 1854.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33"></a>{33}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_APPLE" id="THE_APPLE"></a>THE APPLE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> PICKED an apple from the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">A perfect apple, red and round.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its spicy perfume shy and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stole from the ground beneath my feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne on a wind that lightly flew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the deep dome of cloudless blue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A swarm of ants had found the prize,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before it met my wandering eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And careless in their busy pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ran o’er and o’er the fragrant treasure.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I blew them off, nor cared to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither the luckless things might go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So He who holdeth in his hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This perfect world on which we stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blows us, ah, whither? with His breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our friends who miss us call it “Death!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34"></a>{34}</span><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FOR_EASTER_DAY" id="FOR_EASTER_DAY"></a>FOR EASTER DAY</h2> - -<h3>I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS is the Easter!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Day of rejoicing!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Day of renewing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See how the roseate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Delicate, virginal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feet of the Morning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haste o’er the mountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joyful to meet her!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3>II</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Welcome the Easter!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Day of renewing!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Day of rejoicing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The snow has departed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rain is assuaged,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The winter is gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! on Earth’s bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rainbow of promise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rainbow of springtime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rainbow of flowers!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35"></a>{35}</span></p> - -<h3>III</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This is the Easter!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Day of uprising!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Day of renewing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart, take new courage!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look no more downward!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See, the sun rising!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hark, the bird singing!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See, the grass springing!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The brook floweth free!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand to the plough, man!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cut deep the furrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cast thy seed strongly!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Think not of sorrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of death or of sin!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day, let thy future<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burst from its cerements,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roll back the Grave stone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day, Life immortal!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, mortal! begin!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>New York, April 2, 1877.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36"></a>{36}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ON_ONE_WHO_DIED_IN_MAY" id="ON_ONE_WHO_DIED_IN_MAY"></a>ON ONE WHO DIED IN MAY<br /><br /> -<small><i>John H. Ellis, May 3, 1870</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HY Death, what dost thou, here,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">This time o’ year?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peach-blow, and apple-blossom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clouds, white as my love’s bosom;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Warm wind o’ the West<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cradling the robin’s nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young meadows, hasting their green laps to fill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With golden dandelion and daffodil;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These are fit sights for spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, oh, thou hateful thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">What dost thou here?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Why, Death, what dost thou here<br /></span> -<span class="i3">This time o’ year?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair, at the old oak’s knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The young anemone;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37"></a>{37}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair, the plash places set<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With dog-tooth violet;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The first sloop-sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The shad-flower pale;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet are all sights,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Sweet are all sounds of Spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But thou, thou ugly thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What dost thou, here?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Dark Death let fall a tear.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why am I here?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, heart ungrateful! Will man never know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am his friend, nor ever was his foe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose the sweet season, then, if it be not mine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine, not the bobolink’s, that song divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chasing the shadows o’er the flying wheat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis a dead voice, not his, that sounds so sweet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose passionate heart burns in this flaming rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But his, whose passionate heart long since lay still?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose wan hope pales this nun-like lily tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Beside the garden wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hers, whose radiant eyes and lily grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep in the grave that crowns yon tufted hill!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38"></a>{38}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i3">All Hope, all Memory<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Have their deep springs in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Love, that else might fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By me immortal made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spurns at the grave, leaps to the welcoming skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And burns a steadfast star to steadfast eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39"></a>{39}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_YEW_TREE" id="THE_YEW_TREE"></a>THE YEW TREE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>AKE this small slip of sombre yew<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And lay it on thy breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, underneath thy downcast eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Let the sad emblem rest—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thy tears may fall upon it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I pulled it from a little tree<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That just begins to grow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once only has it seen the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And only once the snow—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thy tears may rain upon it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The garden where it grew is sad<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Before all other places,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death’s shadow up and down its walks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forever darkly paces—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thy tears have fallen in it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40"></a>{40}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These yew trees stand, a pallid ring<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Upon the sunlit lawn—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He planted them the very year<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we were left to mourn—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Our tears fell freely for it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They stood like mourners round a grave<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Who look within, to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where lie the ashes, while the fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spires upward, clear and free.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41"></a>{41}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="THE_IMMORTAL" id="THE_IMMORTAL"></a>THE IMMORTAL</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>OMEWHERE in silent starry lands,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Forlorn with cold or faint with heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He folds his ever active hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rest his never-resting feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A windless light illumes his skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A moonless night, a sunless day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unheeded by his careless eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Arise, and fade, and pass away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day his constant thoughts recall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blissful past, forever fled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A golden light illumines all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ghostly memories of the dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once more adown his garden walks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He moves serene from flower to flower:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His wife beside him gaily talks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He listens gladly hour by hour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42"></a>{42}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when he turns to kiss the lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or when he thinks the form to press<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her he loves—his hope’s eclipse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Renews the former bitterness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In nightly dreams his tireless wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Convey him far to where she lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Folded in slumber, while he sings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Low in her ear his lullabies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He wakes—the happy dream is o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The slow, dull heart-ache gnaws again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within his soul forevermore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A long-enduring death of pain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With her the suns arise and set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The singing stars renew their light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in her heart one wild regret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moans for his presence day and night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I well believe God loves thee still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To whatsoever planet borne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breathing the bright auroral airs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That haunt some glad eternal morn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43"></a>{43}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Walking with fair, unclouded eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside the slow unfailing streams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lulled in the memories of the Past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An ever gliding dance of dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ills that fret our feeble hearts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The toils in which thy life had share,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slender joys that make us glad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In quiet moments snatched from care.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These memories of a vanished life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pass dim before thine altered mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As visions of the earth and sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come to a man whose eyes are blind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To whom the sun in cloudless light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forever shines; forever grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flowers; the woods in beauty wave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unchanged; the constant planets glow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All night above thy peaceful head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sky is bright with burning stars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee the opening morning brings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No news of peace, nor sound of wars;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44"></a>{44}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sole tenant of thy starry home;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Uncheered by friend, unvexed by foe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the slow tide of lapsing time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy tranquil days in silence go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waiting with calm, expectant eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hour that makes her wholly thine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Secure from all the blows of Fate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the mischiefs wrought by Time.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>Mrs. Downing’s, April, 1853.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45"></a>{45}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TWO_MAYS" id="TWO_MAYS"></a>TWO MAYS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>ERE is the stile on which I leaned;—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">This golden willow bending over;—<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Yonder’s the same blue sky that gleamed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day that I murmured, “I am thy lover.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This is the stone on which she sat;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See here the bright moss freshly springing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look! overhead the same bluebirds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Back and forth from the old nest winging.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here is the briar whose flowers she pulled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaf by leaf as she heard my pleading.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swayed by the same idle April wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That laughed as it flew, Love’s pang unheeding.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sky, trees, flowers—the same; but <i>I</i>?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Am I the same boy whose wild heart burning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leapt to one heart in the sweet wild world!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stilled on one bosom its passionate yearning?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46"></a>{46}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Silk-soft hair and hazel eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Limbs that lightly moved or stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a heart that beat with a loyal love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For all things beautiful, true and good.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Follies that flecked this fairest fruit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sins that spotted this whitest page,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Changed without, but the same within,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s rose untouched by the frost of age.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou, too, beloved, art still the same,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep heart, passionate, tender and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The same clear spirit and glancing wit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Piercing the armor of folly through.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sad, olivaster, Spanish face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet low brow under shadowy hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark eyes mingled of tears and fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Voice like a song-bird’s heard through a prayer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Time! if thou steal her girlish beauty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leave her spirit undimmed and free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touch the rose with thy frosty fingers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the rose’s perfume stays with me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47"></a>{47}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="WIND_HARPINGS" id="WIND_HARPINGS"></a>WIND HARPINGS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">F</span>AINT smell of box<br /></span> -<span class="ih">In the evening air,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Faint bleat of flocks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From fields afar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the gray rocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lap and lapse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the wan water.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sunset fields<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stretch fair and far.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mid the winrowed clouds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sickle moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has clipt a star!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale golden bloom!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First flower of the night!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It trembles down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the sunset streak,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Light lost in light!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48"></a>{48}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the pleached bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the garden old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand closed in hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We sit together.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We do not speak.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wind from the pine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With fingers fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lays her warm hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against my cheek.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet silent hour!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As flower to flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart speaks to heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As star to star!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, hawthorn bower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oh, garden old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How dear, how sad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your memories are!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49"></a>{49}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_VALENTINE" id="A_VALENTINE"></a>A VALENTINE</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">B</span>RING me my lute, the sunlight fades;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The evening breezes, soft and low,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">From the far South begin to blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here will I watch the dying day:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here will I watch the pallid skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flush with a myriad changing dyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What joy to see the fairy moon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cradled in folds of rosy light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The baby sovereign of the night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What joy to hear, from far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rolling mill-stream roaring go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between his banks of ice and snow;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or from the distant mountain’s side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hear the murmuring wind, that brings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Promise of Spring between its wings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50"></a>{50}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here at my window will I sit;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here, will I let the peaceful hour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Try on my heart her aëry power.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This happy season sings of Thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where’er I turn my careless eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine image will before them rise;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not as thou art in human form;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I cannot shape thy phantom so,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fleeting shadows come and go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy face is fair with roseate bloom—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I lift my eyes and lo! the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reddens the cloud he looks upon—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thine eyes with deepening azure smile—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the hills a line of blue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Recalls the sunlit morning’s dew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On either side thy thoughtful brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy golden hair is floating free—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yon golden cloud is fair to see—<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51"></a>{51}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As floating from the purple West,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its glory slowly gathers dun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fadeth with the fading sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! was it all an idle dream?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A fleeting sunset fed my thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all this cloudy vision wrought?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or does the maiden somewhere bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whom Nature cannot paint aright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her beauty is so passing bright?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52"></a>{52}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="COMING_COME" id="COMING_COME"></a>COMING—COME</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>OW dreary are the crowded streets<br /></span> -<span class="ih">With not a soul abroad!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">How sunless is the sunny sky!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No fire on hearth, no mirth at board!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How long the nights, how slow the day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love’s away! My love’s away!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How gay the crowded city streets!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How cheerily shines the sun!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dances the fire, and round the board<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From lip to lip the greetings run!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No longer in the dumps I roam—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love’s come home! My love’s come home!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53"></a>{53}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="ULYSSES_AND_THE_SIRENS" id="ULYSSES_AND_THE_SIRENS"></a>ULYSSES AND THE SIRENS</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>H ye maids, with deep and rosy bosoms!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Oh ye maids, with darkly flowing locks!<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Wherefore is it that with songs ye woo me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sitting in the shadows of the rocks?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well hath she, the enchantress Circe told me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All the evil that shall on me fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I follow where your white feet lead me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or give answer when your voices call.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh my comrades, bind me to the mainmast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stop my ears with wax and bind my hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close my eyes that so no sight nor murmur<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the singer or the song steal to me from the sands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the west the blood-red sun is sinking.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the angry billows redly glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the dying breeze the song is dying.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ply the oars, my comrades, let us go!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>Tarrytown, 1844.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54"></a>{54}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="OTTILIA" id="OTTILIA"></a>OTTILIA<br /><br /> -<small><i>Miss Mary Hamilton, afterwards Mrs. George Schuyler</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> LOW, sad brow with folded hair;<br /></span> -<span class="ih">From whose deep night one pallid rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White moonlight through the darkness throws.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A head, whose lordly, only crown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Pride, Olympian Juno might<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have worn for the great God’s delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep eyes immixed of Night and Fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In whose large motion you might see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her royal soul lived royally.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unstained by any earthly soil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And only caring to walk straight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The road ordained to her by Fate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her jewelled hands across the keys<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flashed through the twilight of the room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A double light of gem and tune.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55"></a>{55}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still while she played you saw that hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glide ghostly white, and fearless wave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dead faces up from Memory’s grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The firelight flickered on the wall;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet tears came to the heart’s relief;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She sat and sang us into grief.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet now, she played some liquid song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A happy lover would have sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If once he could have found a tongue—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now the sparkling octaves ran<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the quick dance, where tangled braid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now caught the sunlight, now the shade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now the boatman’s evening song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As, rowing homeward down the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He sees his maiden’s garments gleam<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beside the trees, the trysting-place;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the sad singer whippoorwill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cries from the willow by the mill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56"></a>{56}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, howsoe’er her music ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sigh was in it, and a sense<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of some dead voice that called us hence;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A voice that even now I hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although the hand that touched those keys<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rests on her heart, that sleeps in peace.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>Newburgh, January 16, 1854.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57"></a>{57}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_PORTRAIT" id="A_PORTRAIT"></a>A PORTRAIT<br /><br /> -<small><i>Mrs. Carroll Dunham, September, 1877.</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> KNOW not wherein lay the charm<br /></span> -<span class="ih">She had in those remembered days.<br /></span> -<span class="ih">The Olympian gait, the welcoming hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The frank soul looking from her face,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The manly manners all her own—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor yet coquette, nor cold, nor free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She puzzled, being each in turn;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or dazzled, mingling all the three.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out of those gowns, so quaintly rich—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They grew, unshaped by Milan’s shears!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose, like a tower, the ivory throat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ringed with the rings the Clytie wears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, when you sought the Roman face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That on such columns grew—and grows!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You found this wonder in its stead—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sea-shell’s curves, the sea-shell’s rose!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58"></a>{58}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her eyes, the succory’s way-side blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her lips, the wilding way-side rose:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, Beauty dreamed a prouder dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Throned on her forehead’s moonlit snows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, over all, the wreathéd hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That caught the sunset’s streaming gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, now, a crocus bud was set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or violet, hid in the braided fold!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, she, so deep her conscious pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So sure her knowledge she was fair—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What gowns she wore, or silk, or serge,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She seemed to neither know, nor care.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She smiled on cat, or frowned on friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or gave her horse the hand denied.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day, bewitched you with her wit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To-morrow, snubbed you from her side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Loyal to truth, yet wed to whim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She held in fee her constant mind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whatever tempests drove her bark,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You felt her soul’s deep anchor bind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59"></a>{59}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In that dark day when, fever-driven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her wits went wandering up and down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seeming-cruel, friendly shears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Closed on her girl-head’s glorious crown,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another woman might have wept<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see such gold so idly spilled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She only smiled, as curl and coil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fell, till the shearer’s lap was filled;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then softly said: “Hair-sunsets fade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As when night clips day’s locks of gold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear Death, thy priestly hands I bless,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, nun-like, seek thy convent-fold!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then slept, nor woke. O miser Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What gold thou hidest in thy dust!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What ripest beauty there decays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What sharpest wits there go to rust!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hide not this jewel with the rest—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Base gems whose color fled thy breath—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, worn on thine imperial hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Make all the world in love with Death!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60"></a>{60}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="SONNET" id="SONNET"></a>SONNET<br /><br /> -<small>TO THE FRINGED GENTIAN</small><br /><br /> -<small><i>Dedicated to E. C. H.</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>FT had I heard thy beauty praised, dear flower,<br /></span> -<span class="ih">And often searched for thee through field and wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet could I never find the secret bower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thou dost lead in maiden solitude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cloistered life; but on one happy day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering in idle thought, with a dear friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through dying woods, listening the robin’s lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw thy fairy flowers whose azure gemmed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fading grass beneath a cedar’s boughs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh never yet so glad a sight has met<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These eyes of mine! Depart, before the snows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hastening winter thy fringed garments wet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine azure flowers should never fade nor die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But bloom, exhale, and gain their native sky.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>November, 1849.</i> <span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61"></a>{61}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="TO_GIULIA_SINGING" id="TO_GIULIA_SINGING"></a>TO GIULIA, SINGING</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>ING me the song again, and yet again<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Waken the music as it dies away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make twilight sadder with it, nor refrain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While yet these sighing winds bemoan the day.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still let that wavering voice<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Make my young heart rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even tho’ one truant tear adown my cheek may stray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cease not thy singing, dearest, for mine eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feed on thy beauty, and I hear the song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one who, looking on the sunset skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hears over flowery meads the south winds blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And down the purple hills the flashing waters flow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62"></a>{62}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An idle song; I cannot tell the meaning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet, sing I o’er and o’er, for in its wings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It bringeth heavenly things:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear memories of melodious hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all earth’s weeds were flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear memories of the loved ones far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom yet we hope to greet some happy day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear memories of the travellers from Life’s shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom we shall greet again, ah! nevermore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cease, lady! Sing some song that brings again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The golden past, meet for this sunset hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some breath of melody not fraught with pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some gayly-tinted flower!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let thy fair hand float o’er the willing keys,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all my sorrows ease.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>Home Journal, 1852.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63"></a>{63}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="YESTERDAY_AND_TO-DAY" id="YESTERDAY_AND_TO-DAY"></a>YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">B</span>UT yesterday the laughing sun<br /></span> -<span class="ih">Came dancing up the rosy East—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You would have thought that it was May;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The birds sang clear on every spray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The heart with fuller motion beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sad eye flashed with brighter fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down to the ground the sunbeams came<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lit the crocus’ slender flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The branches of the lonely pine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rocked to a glad harmonious hymn.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The song-bird’s music and the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With double laughter shook the trees<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That cluster round the southern wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A feathery fringe against the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their yellow branches in the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are very fair to look upon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64"></a>{64}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far down between the rounded hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watched a wreath of morning mist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Floating in shadow—rising slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sunlight glorified its snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The day was blesséd. Field and hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreamed, bathed in light and lulled with sound.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All day my soul at peace within<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Went carolling her joyful hymn.<br /></span> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">———</span><br /> -<span class="i0">To-day you cannot see the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blinding mist blots out the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You hear the angry waters flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You hear the wintry breezes blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The branches of the lonely pine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mutter and sigh tossed to and fro;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The birds that chanted in the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sit in the covert cold and dumb.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The maiden Spring that Yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was born, To-Day, alas! is dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pitying heavens drop over all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This silent snow for fittest pall.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65"></a>{65}</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sobbing winds her requiem sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plashing waves upon the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sigh hour by hour; the dreary day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In mist and silence fades away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The heart is wintry as the earth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tossed with the storm, and drenched with gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dark with doubts that round her throng,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To choke with tears her heavenly song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="locus"><i>March 18, 1852.</i></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66"></a>{66}</span></p> - -<h2><a name="A_SONNET_IN_PRAISE_OF_HIS_LADYS_HANDS" id="A_SONNET_IN_PRAISE_OF_HIS_LADYS_HANDS"></a>A SONNET IN PRAISE OF HIS LADY’S HANDS<br /><br /> -<small><i>Translated from the Italian of “Qualcheduns.”</i></small></h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>OW beautiful it is<br /></span> -<span class="ih">To see my lady’s hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether adorned with rings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or with their snowy lengths<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rosy tips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Undecked with gems of gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When her light work she plies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Creating mimic flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or drawing the fair thread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through folds of snowy lawn.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How beautiful it is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see my lady’s hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Often I, sitting, watch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their gliding to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These lovely birds of snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes the evening shades<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Draw around us as we talk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes the tired sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Drooping towards the West,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67"></a>{67}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes all the fields of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With autumn’s colors glow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes the sailing moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unclouded and serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rises between the misty woods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That crown the distant hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then most I love to sit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And watch my lady’s hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blush with the sunset’s rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or whiten in the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, lucid in the amber evening air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Folded, repose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes she paces slowly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the garden flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above her the trees tremble,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lean their leafage down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So much they love to see her;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flowers, white and red,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Open their fragrant eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Gladder to hear her coming<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Than birds singing,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or bees humming.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, stooping, clad in grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gathers them one by one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lily and crimson rose,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68"></a>{68}</span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sprigs of tender green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And holds them in her hands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nothing can sweeter be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than, lying on the lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see those graceful hands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drop all their odorous load<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon her snowy lap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then, with magic skill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rosy fingers fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To watch her intertwine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some wreath, not all unfitting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young brows divine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How beautiful it is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see my lady’s hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In moonlight sorrowful,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or sunlight fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Busied with graceful toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or folded in repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How beautiful it is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see my lady’s hands.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69"></a>{69}</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/signature.png" - class="figcentered2" -alt="Image unavailable: Signature, Clarence Cook" /> -</div> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/back.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Clarence Cook - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 53072-h.htm or 53072-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/0/7/53072/ - -Produced by Larry B. 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