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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..dff96ff --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54912 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54912) diff --git a/old/54912-0.txt b/old/54912-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 427ef3e..0000000 --- a/old/54912-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13103 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems, by Julia C. R. (Caroline Ripley) Dorr - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Poems - -Author: Julia C. R. (Caroline Ripley) Dorr - -Release Date: June 15, 2017 [EBook #54912] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Paul Marshall and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - - Underscores "_" before and after a word or phrase indicate _italics_ - in the original text. - Small capitals have been converted to SOLID capitals. - Old or antiquated spellings have been preserved. - Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations - in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered. - Where double quotes have been repeated at the beginnings of - consecutive stanzas, they have been omitted for clarity. - - - - - POEMS BY JULIA C. R. DORR - - - [Illustration: Julia C. R. Dorr.] - - POEMS - - BY JULIA C. R. DORR - - COMPLETE EDITION - - NEW YORK - - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - MDCCCXCII - - COPYRIGHT, 1879, 1885, 1892, BY - CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS - - TROW DIRECTORY - PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY - NEW YORK - - - - -_TO S. M. D._ - - - _Let us go forth and gather golden-rod! - O love, my love, see how upon the hills, - Where still the warm air palpitates and thrills, - And earth lies breathless in the smile of God, - Like plumes of serried hosts its tassels nod! - All the green vales its golden glory fills; - By lonely waysides and by mountain rills - Its yellow banners flaunt above the sod. - Perhaps the apple-blossoms were more fair; - Perhaps, dear heart, the roses were more sweet, - June’s dewy roses, with their buds half blown; - Yet what care we, while tremulous and rare - This golden sunshine falleth at our feet - And song lives on, though summer birds have flown? - August, 1884._ - - _Let the words stand as they were writ, dear heart! - Although no more for thee in earthly bowers - Shall bloom the earlier or the later flowers; - Although to-day ’tis springtime where thou art, - While I, with Autumn, wander far apart, - Yet, in the name of that long love of ours, - Tested by years and tried by sun and showers, - Let the words stand as they were writ, dear heart!_ - - - - - CONTENTS - - PAGE - DEDICATION. TO S. M. D. v - - EARLIER POEMS. - THE THREE SHIPS, 3 - MAUD AND MADGE, 6 - A MOTHER’S QUESTION, 8 - OVER THE WALL, 9 - OUTGROWN, 11 - A SONG FOR TWO, 14 - A PICTURE, 15 - HYMN TO LIFE, 16 - THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW, 18 - HEIRSHIP, 20 - HILDA, SPINNING, 22 - HEREAFTER, 25 - WITHOUT AND WITHIN, 27 - VASHTI’S SCROLL, 29 - WHAT MY FRIEND SAID TO ME, 37 - HYMN. For the Dedication of a Cemetery, 38 - YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY, 39 - LYRIC. For the Dedication of a Music-Hall, 41 - WHAT I LOST, 43 - ONCE! 45 - CATHARINE, 47 - THE NAME, 48 - UNDER THE PALM-TREES, 49 - NIGHT AND MORNING, 51 - AGNES, 53 - “INTO THY HANDS,” 55 - IDLE WORDS, 56 - THE SPARROW TO THE SKYLARK, 58 - THE BELL OF ST. PAUL’S, 60 - DECEMBER 26, 1910. - A Ballad of Major Anderson, 62 - FROM BATON ROUGE, 66 - IN THE WILDERNESS, 68 - CHARLEY OF MALVERN HILL, 70 - SUPPLICAMUS, 73 - THE LAST OF SIX, 75 - THE DRUMMER BOY’S BURIAL, 79 - EIGHTEEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE, 82 - OUR FLAGS AT THE CAPITOL, 84 - MY MOCKING-BIRD, 86 - COMING HOME, 88 - WAKENING EARLY, 90 - BLEST, 92 - HELEN, 94 - - “PRO PATRIA.” - THE DEAD CENTURY, 97 - THE RIVER OTTER, 106 - PAST AND PRESENT, 109 - VERMONT, 114 - GETTYSBURG. 1863-1889. 126 - “NO MORE THE THUNDER OF CANNON,” 133 - GRANT, 135 - - FRIAR ANSELMO, AND OTHER POEMS. - FRIAR ANSELMO, 141 - THE KING’S ROSEBUD, 146 - SOMEWHERE, 147 - PERADVENTURE, 148 - RENA. A Legend of Brussels, 150 - A SECRET, 159 - THIS DAY, 161 - “CHRISTUS!” 163 - THE KISS, 167 - WHAT SHE THOUGHT, 168 - WHAT NEED? 170 - TWO, 172 - UNANSWERED, 175 - THE CLAY TO THE ROSE, 178 - AT THE LAST, 180 - TO THE “BOUQUET CLUB,” 181 - EVENTIDE, 182 - MY LOVERS, 184 - THE LEGEND OF THE ORGAN-BUILDER, 186 - BUTTERFLY AND BABY BLUE, 190 - KING IVAN’S OATH, 192 - AT DAWN, 199 - IN MEMORIAM, 201 - WEAVING THE WEB, 203 - THE “CHRISTUS” OF OBERAMMERGAU, 205 - RABBI BENAIAH, 206 - A CHILD’S THOUGHT, 209 - “GOD KNOWS,” 211 - THE MOUNTAIN ROAD, 213 - ENTERING IN, 215 - A FLOWER FOR THE DEAD, 217 - THOU KNOWEST, 219 - WINTER, 220 - FIVE, 221 - UNSOLVED, 223 - QUIETNESS, 226 - THE DIFFERENCE, 227 - MY BIRTHDAY, 229 - A RED ROSE, 231 - TWENTY-ONE, 233 - SINGING IN THE DARK, 235 - THOMAS MOORE, 236 - A LAST WORD, 238 - - SONNETS. - THE SONNET. I. To a Critic. 241 - " " II. To a Poet. 241 - AT REST, 243 - TOO WIDE! 244 - MERCÉDÈS, 245 - GRASS-GROWN, 246 - TO ZÜLMA, I., II., 247 - SLEEP, 249 - IN KING’S CHAPEL, 250 - TO-DAY, 251 - F. A. F., 252 - DAY AND NIGHT, I., II., 253 - THY NAME, 255 - RESURGAMUS, 256 - AT THE TOMB, 257 - THREE DAYS, I., II., III., 258 - DARKNESS, 260 - SILENCE, 261 - SANCTIFIED, 262 - A MESSAGE, 263 - WHEN LESSER LOVES, 264 - GEORGE ELIOT, 265 - KNOWING, 266 - A THOUGHT, 267 - TO-MORROW, I., II., 268 - “O EARTH! ART THOU NOT WEARY?” 270 - ALEXANDER, 271 - THE PLACE, I., II., III., 272 - TO A GODDESS, 274 - O. W. H., 275 - GIFTS FOR THE KING, 276 - RECOGNITION, I., II., 277 - SHAKESPEARE, 279 - TO E. C. S., 280 - A CHRISTMAS SONNET, 281 - POVERTY, 282 - SURPRISES, I., II., 283 - C. H. R., 285 - A NEW BEATITUDE, 286 - COMPENSATION, I., II., 287 - QUESTIONINGS, 289 - REMEMBRANCE, 290 - IN THE HIGH TOWER, 291 - - AFTERNOON SONGS. - FOUR O’CLOCKS, 295 - A DREAM OF SONGS UNSUNG, 296 - QUESTIONING A ROSE, 304 - THE FALLOW FIELD, 306 - OUT AND IN, 309 - HER FLOWERS, 310 - THREE LADDIES, 312 - SUMMER, 314 - THORNLESS ROSES, 315 - TREASURE-SHIPS, 316 - CHOOSING, 318 - NOT MINE, 320 - THE CHAMBER OF SILENCE, 322 - THREE ROSES, 325 - FOUR LETTERS, 326 - VALDEMAR, 328 - JUBILATE! 338 - EASTER LILIES, 339 - “O, WIND THAT BLOWS OUT OF THE WEST,” 340 - A SUMMER SONG, 342 - THE URN, 344 - THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER, 345 - MARCH FOURTH, 1881-1882, 348 - ROY, 350 - THE PAINTER’S PRAYER, 351 - FROM EXILE, 354 - A MOTHER-SONG, 358 - EASTER MORNING, 359 - SEALED ORDERS, 363 - AN ANNIVERSARY, 365 - MARTHA, 367 - THE HOUR, 368 - THE CLOSED GATE, 369 - CONTENT, 371 - MY WONDERLAND, 373 - THE GUEST, 375 - AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN, 377 - DISCONTENT, 380 - THE DOVES AT MENDON, 383 - A LATE ROSE, 386 - PERIWINKLE, 387 - AFTERNOON, 389 - THE LADY OF THE PROW, 392 - THOU AND I, 395 - - LATER POEMS. - THE LEGEND OF THE BABOUSHKA. - A Christmas Ballad, 399 - DAYBREAK. An Easter Poem, 405 - THE APPLE-TREE, 411 - THE COMFORTER, 413 - SANTA-CLAUS, 415 - THE ARMORER’S ERRAND, 417 - FORESHADOWINGS, 423 - WON, 425 - BAPTISM OF FIRE, 427 - AT THE FEAST, 429 - OVER AND OVER, 430 - A LISTENING BIRD, 432 - THE FIRST FIRE, 433 - MIDNIGHT CHIMES, 436 - MY LADY SLEEP, 438 - THE KING’S TOUCH, 440 - “BY DIVERS PATHS,” 442 - THE BLIND BIRD’S NEST, 444 - TWO PATHS, 446 - ST. JOHN’S EVE, 447 - A LITTLE SONG, 449 - THE PRINCES’ CHAMBER, 450 - WONDERLAND, 453 - IN A GALLERY, 455 - IN MARBLE PRAYER, 457 - NOCTURNE, 459 - COME WHAT MAY, 460 - NUREMBERG, 462 - A MATER DOLOROSA, 464 - AFTER LONG WAITING, 470 - - - - -EARLIER POEMS - - -THE THREE SHIPS - - Over the waters clear and dark - Flew, like a startled bird, our bark. - - All the day long with steady sweep - Seagulls followed us over the deep. - - Weird and strange were the silent shores, - Rich with their wealth of buried ores; - - Mighty the forests, old and gray, - With the secrets locked in their hearts away. - - Semblance of castle and arch and shrine - Towered aloft in the clear sunshine; - - And we watched for the warder, stern and grim, - And the priest with his chanted prayer and hymn. - - Over that wonderful northern sea, - As one who sails in a dream, sailed we, - - Till, when the young moon soared on high, - Nothing was round us but wave and sky. - - Up in the tremulous space it swung,— - A crescent dim in the azure hung; - - While the sun lay low in the glowing west, - With bars of purple across his breast. - - The skies were aflame with the sunset glow, - The billows were all aflame below; - - The far horizon seemed the gate - To some mystic world’s enchanted state; - - And all the air was a luminous mist, - Crimson and amber and amethyst. - - Then silently into that fiery sea— - Into the heart of the mystery— - - Three ships went sailing, one by one, - The fairest visions under the sun. - - Like the flame in the heart of a ruby set - Were the sails that flew from each mast of jet; - - While darkly against the burning sky - Streamer and pennant floated high. - - Steadily, silently, on they pressed - Into the glowing, reddening west; - - Until, on the far horizon’s fold, - They slowly passed through its gate of gold. - - You think, perhaps, they were nothing more - Than schooners laden with common ore? - - Where Care clasped hands with grimy Toil, - And the decks were stained with earthly moil? - - Oh, beautiful ships, that sailed that night - Into the west from our yearning sight, - - Full well I know that the freight ye bore - Was laden not for an earthly shore! - - To some far realm ye were sailing on, - Where all we have lost shall yet be won; - - Ye were bearing thither a world of dreams, - Bright as that sunset’s golden gleams; - - And hopes whose tremulous, rosy flush, - Grew fairer still in the twilight hush. - - Ye were bearing hence to that mystic sphere - Thoughts no mortal may utter here,— - - Songs that on earth may not be sung,— - Words too holy for human tongue,— - - The golden deeds that we would have done,— - The fadeless wreaths that we would have won! - - And hence it was that our souls with you - Traversed the measureless waste of blue, - - Till you passed under the sunset gate, - And to us a voice said, softly, “Wait!” - - -MAUD AND MADGE - - Maud in a crimson velvet chair - Strings her pearls on a silken thread, - While, lovingly lifting her golden hair, - Soft airs wander about her head. - She has silken robes of the softest flow, - She has jewels rare and a chain of gold, - And her two white hands flit to and fro, - Fair as the dainty toys they hold. - - She has tropical birds and rare perfumes; - Pictures that speak to the heart and eye; - For her each flower of the Orient blooms,— - For her the song and the lute swell high; - But daintily stringing her gleaming pearls - She dreams to-day in her velvet chair, - While the sunlight sleeps in her golden curls, - Lightly stirred by the odorous air. - - Down on the beach, when the tide goes out, - Madge is gathering shining shells; - The sea-breeze blows her locks about; - O’er bare, brown feet the white sand swells. - Coarsest serge is her gown of gray, - Faded and torn her apron blue, - And there in the beautiful, dying day - The girl still thinks of the work to do. - - Stains of labor are on her hands, - Lost is the young form’s airy grace; - And standing there on the shining sands - You read her fate in her weary face. - Up with the dawn to toil all day - For meagre fare and a place to sleep; - Seldom a moment to dream or play, - Little leisure to laugh or weep. - - Beautiful Maud, you think, maybe, - Lying back in your velvet chair, - There is naught in common with her and thee,— - You scarce could breathe in the self-same air. - But the warm blood in her girlish heart - Leaps quick as yours at her nature’s call, - And ye, though moving so far apart, - Must share one destiny after all. - - Love shall come to you both one day, - For still must be what aye hath been; - And under satin or russet gray - Hearts will open to let him in. - Motherhood with its joy and woe - Each must compass through burning pain,— - You, fair Maud, with your brow of snow, - Madge with her brown hands labor-stained. - - Each shall sorrow and each shall weep, - Though one is in hovel, one in hall; - Over your gold the frost shall creep, - As over her jet the snows will fall. - Exquisite Maud, you lift your eyes - At Madge out yonder under the sun; - Yet know ye both by the countless ties - Of a common womanhood ye are one! - - -A MOTHER’S QUESTION - - What mother-angel tended thee last night, - Sweet baby mine? - Cradled upon what breast all soft and white - Didst thou recline? - - Who took thee, frail and tender as thou art, - Within her arms? - And shielded thee, close claspéd to her heart, - From all alarms? - - Surely that God who lured thee from the breast - That hoped to be - The softest pillow and the sweetest rest - Thenceforth to thee, - - Sent thee not forth into the dread unknown - Without a guide, - To grope in darkness, treading all alone - The path untried. - - Compassionate is He who called thee, child; - And well I know - He sent some Blessed One of aspect mild - With thee to go - - Through the dark valley, where the shadows dim - Forever brood, - That the low music of an angel’s hymn - Might cheer the solitude! - - -OVER THE WALL - - I know a spot where the wild vines creep, - And the coral moss-cups grow, - And where, at the foot of the rocky steep, - The sweet blue violets blow. - There all day long, in the summer-time, - You may hear the river’s dreamy rhyme; - There all day long does the honey-bee - Murmur and hum in the hollow tree. - - And there the feathery hemlock makes - A shadow cool and sweet, - While from its emerald wing it shakes - Rare incense at your feet. - There do the silvery lichens cling, - There does the tremulous harebell swing; - And many a scarlet berry shines - Deep in the green of the tangled vines. - - Over the wall at dawn of day, - Over the wall at noon, - Over the wall when the shadows say - That night is coming soon, - A little maiden with laughing eyes - Climbs in her eager haste, and hies - Down to the spot where the wild vines creep, - And violets bloom by the rocky steep. - - All wild things love her. The murmuring bee - Scarce stirs when she draws near, - And sings the bird in the hemlock-tree - Its sweetest for her ear. - The harebells nod as she passes by, - The violet lifts its tender eye, - The low ferns bend her steps to greet, - And the mosses creep to her dancing feet. - - Up in her pathway seems to spring - All that is sweet or rare,— - Chrysalis quaint, or the moth’s bright wing, - Or flower-buds strangely fair. - She watches the tiniest bird’s-nest hid - The thickly clustering leaves amid; - And the small brown tree-toad on her arm - Quietly hops, and fears no harm. - - Ah, child of the laughing eyes, and heart - Attuned to Nature’s voice! - Thou hast found a bliss that will ne’er depart - While earth can say, “Rejoice!” - The years must come, and the years must go; - But the flowers will bloom, and the breezes blow, - And bird and butterfly, moth and bee, - Bring on their swift wings joy to thee! - - -OUTGROWN - - Nay, you wrong her, my friend, she’s not fickle; her love she has - simply outgrown; - One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light - of one’s own. - - Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my - heart would say, - And you know we were children together, have quarreled and “made up” - in play. - - And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture to tell you the - truth, - As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier - youth. - - Five summers ago, when you wooed her, you stood on the self-same - plane, - Face to face, heart to heart, never dreaming your souls could be - parted again. - - She loved you at that time entirely, in the bloom of her life’s - early May, - And it is not her fault, I repeat it, that she does not love you - to-day. - - Nature never stands still, nor souls either. They ever go up or go - down; - And hers has been steadily soaring,—but how has it been with your - own? - - She has struggled, and yearned, and aspired,—grown stronger and - wiser each year; - The stars are not farther above you, in yon luminous atmosphere! - - For she whom you crowned with fresh roses, down yonder, five - summers ago, - Has learned that the first of our duties to God and ourselves is - to grow. - - Her eyes they are sweeter and calmer, but their vision is clearer - as well; - Her voice has a tenderer cadence, but it rings like a silver bell. - - Her face has the look worn by those who with God and his angels have - talked; - The white robes she wears are less white than the spirits with whom - she has walked. - - And you? Have you aimed at the highest? Have you, too, aspired and - prayed? - Have you looked upon evil unsullied? have you conquered it - undismayed? - - Have you, too, grown stronger and wiser, as the months and the years - have rolled on? - Did you meet her this morning rejoicing in the triumph of victory - won? - - Nay, hear me! The truth cannot harm you. When to-day in her presence - you stood, - Was the hand that you gave her as white and clean as that of her - womanhood? - - Go measure yourself by her standard. Look back on the years that - have fled; - Then ask, if you need, why she tells you that the love of her - girlhood is dead! - - She cannot look down to her lover; her love, like her soul, aspires; - He must stand by her side, or above her, who would kindle its holy - fires. - - Now, farewell! For the sake of old friendship I have ventured to - tell you the truth, - As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier - youth. - - -A SONG FOR TWO - - Not for its sunsets burning clear and low, - Its purple splendors on the eastern hills, - Bless I the Year that now makes haste to go - While sad Earth listens for its dying thrills. - - Not that its days were sweet with sun and showers; - Its summer nights all luminous with stars: - Not that its vales were studded thick with flowers; - Not that its mountains pierced the azure bars; - - Not that from our dear land, by slow degrees, - Some mists of error it hath blown away; - Not for its noble deeds—ah! not for these— - Fain would I twine this wreath of song to-day. - - But for one gift that it has brought to me - My grateful heart would crown the dying Year: - Because, O best-beloved, it gave me thee, - I drop this garland on the passing bier! - - -A PICTURE - - A lovely bit of dappled green - Shut in the circling hills between, - While farther off blue mountains stand - Like giant guards on either hand. - - The quiet road in still repose - Follows where’er the river flows; - And in and out it glides along, - Enchanted by the rippling song. - - Afar, I see the steepled town - From yonder hillside looking down; - And sometimes, when the south wind swells, - Hear the faint chiming of its bells. - - But under these embowering trees, - Lulled by the hum of droning bees, - The old brown farmhouse seems to sleep, - So calm its rest is and so deep. - - Yonder, beside the rustic bridge, - From which the path climbs yonder ridge, - The lazy cattle seek the shade - By the umbrageous willows made. - - The sky is like a hollow pearl, - Save where warm sunset clouds unfurl - Their flaming colors. Lo! a star, - Even as I gaze, gleams forth afar! - - -HYMN TO LIFE - - Ah, Life, dear Life, how beautiful art thou! - All day sweet, chiming voices in my heart - Have hymned thy praises joyfully as now, - Telling how fair thou art! - - This morn, while yet the dew was on the flowers, - They sang like skylarks, soaring while they sing; - This noon, like birds within their leafy bowers, - Warbled with folded wing. - - Slow fades the twilight from the glowing west, - And one pale star hangs o’er yon mountain’s brow; - With deeper joy, that may not be repressed, - O Life, they hail thee now! - - And not alone from this poor heart of mine - Do these glad notes of grateful love ascend; - Voices from mount and vale and woodland shrine - In the full chorus blend. - - The young leaves feel thy presence and rejoice - The while they frolic with the happy breeze; - And pæans sweeter than a seraph’s voice - Rise from the swaying trees. - - Each flower that hides within the forest dim, - Where mortal eye may ne’er its beauty see, - Waves its light censer, while it breathes a hymn - In humble praise of thee. - - Through quivering pines the gentle south winds stray, - Singing low songs that bid the tear-drops start; - And thoughts of thee are in each trembling lay, - Thrilling the listener’s heart. - - Old Ocean lifts his solemn voice on high, - Thy name, O Life, repeating evermore, - While sweeping gales and rushing storms reply - From many a far-off shore. - - The stars are gathering in the darkening skies, - But our dull ears their music may not hear, - Though, while we list, their swelling anthems rise - Exultingly and clear! - - O Earth is beautiful! She weareth still - The golden radiance of life’s early day; - Still Love and Hope for me their chalice fill,— - Life, turn not thou away! - - -THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW - - One night as I sat by my table, - Tired of books and pen, - With wandering thoughts far straying - Out into the world of men;— - That world where the busy workers - Such magical deeds are doing, - Each one with a steady purpose - His own pet plans pursuing; - - When the house was wrapt in silence, - And the children were all asleep, - And even the mouse in the wainscot - Had ceased to run and leap, - All at once from the open chimney - Came a hum and a rustle and whirring, - That startled me out of my dreaming, - And set my pulses stirring. - - What was it? I paused and listened; - The roses were all in bloom, - And in from the garden floated - The violet’s rich perfume. - So it could not be Kriss Kringle, - For he only comes, you know, - When the Christmas bells are chiming, - And the hills are white with snow. - - Hark! a sound as of rushing waters, - Or the rustle of falling leaves, - Or the patter of eager raindrops - Yonder among the eaves! - Then out from the dark, old chimney, - Blackened with soot and smoke, - With a whir of fluttering pinions - A startled birdling broke. - - Dashing against the window; - Lighting a moment where - My sculptured angel folded - Its soft white wings in prayer; - Swinging upon the curtains; - Perched on the ivy-vine; - At last it rested trembling - In tender hands of mine. - - No stain upon its plumage; - No dust upon its wings; - No hint of its companionship - With darkly soiling things! - O, happy bird, thou spirit! - Stretch thy glad plumes and soar - Where breath of soil or sorrow - Shall reach thee nevermore! - - -HEIRSHIP - - Little store of wealth have I; - Not a rood of land I own; - Nor a mansion fair and high - Built with towers of fretted stone. - Stocks, nor bonds, nor title-deeds, - Flocks nor herds have I to show; - When I ride, no Arab steeds - Toss for me their manes of snow. - - I have neither pearls nor gold, - Massive plate, nor jewels rare; - Broidered silks of worth untold, - Nor rich robes a queen might wear. - In my garden’s narrow bound - Flaunt no costly tropic blooms, - Ladening all the air around - With a weight of rare perfumes. - - Yet to an immense estate - Am I heir, by grace of God,— - Richer, grander than doth wait - Any earthly monarch’s nod. - Heir of all the Ages, I— - Heir of all that they have wrought, - All their store of emprise high, - All their wealth of precious thought. - - Every golden deed of theirs - Sheds its lustre on my way; - All their labors, all their prayers, - Sanctify this present day! - Heir of all that they have earned - By their passion and their tears,— - Heir of all that they have learned - Through the weary, toiling years! - - Heir of all the faith sublime - On whose wings they soared to heaven; - Heir of every hope that Time - To Earth’s fainting sons hath given! - Aspirations pure and high— - Strength to dare and to endure— - Heir of all the Ages, I— - Lo! I am no longer poor! - - -HILDA, SPINNING - - Spinning, spinning, by the sea, - All the night! - On a stormy, rock-ribbed shore, - Where the north winds downward pour, - And the tempests fiercely sweep - From the mountains to the deep, - Hilda spins beside the sea, - All the night! - - Spinning, at her lonely window, - By the sea! - With her candle burning clear, - Every night of all the year, - And her sweet voice crooning low, - Quaint old songs of love and woe, - Spins she at her lonely window, - By the sea. - - On a bitter night in March, - Long ago, - Hilda, very young and fair, - With a crown of golden hair, - Watched the tempest raging wild, - Watched the roaring sea—and smiled - Through that woeful night in March, - Long ago! - - What though all the winds were out - In their might? - Richard’s boat was tried and true; - Stanch and brave his hardy crew; - Strongest he to do or dare. - Said she, breathing forth a prayer, - “He is safe, though winds are out - In their might!” - - But at length the morning dawned, - Still and clear! - Calm, in azure splendor, lay - All the waters of the bay; - And the ocean’s angry moans - Sank to solemn undertones, - As at last the morning dawned, - Still and clear! - - With her waves of golden hair - Floating free, - Hilda ran along the shore, - Gazing off the waters o’er; - And the fishermen replied, - “He will come in with the tide,” - As they saw her golden hair - Floating free! - - Ah! he came in with the tide— - Came alone! - Tossed upon the shining sands— - Ghastly face and clutching hands— - Seaweed tangled in his hair— - Bruised and torn his forehead fair— - Thus he came in with the tide, - All alone! - - Hilda watched beside her dead, - Day and night. - Of those hours of mortal woe - Human ken may never know; - She was silent, and his ear - Kept the secret, close and dear, - Of her watch beside her dead, - Day and night! - - What she promised in the darkness, - Who can tell? - But upon that rock-ribbed shore - Burns a beacon evermore! - And beside it, all the night, - Hilda guards the lonely light, - Though what vowed she in the darkness, - None may tell! - - Spinning, spinning by the sea, - All the night! - While her candle, gleaming wide - O’er the restless, rolling tide, - Guides with steady, changeless ray - The lone fisher up the bay, - Hilda spins beside the sea, - Through the night! - - Fifty years of patient spinning - By the sea! - Old and worn, she sleeps to-day, - While the sunshine gilds the bay; - But her candle, shining clear, - Every night of all the year, - Still is telling of her spinning - By the sea! - - -HEREAFTER - - O land beyond the setting sun! - O realm more fair than poet’s dream! - How clear thy silver rivers run, - How bright thy golden glories gleam! - - Earth holds no counterpart of thine; - The dark-browed Orient, jewel-crowned, - Pales as she bows before thy shrine, - Shrouded in mystery profound. - - The dazzling North, the stately West, - Whose waters flow from mount to sea; - The South, flower-wreathed in languid rest— - What are they all, compared with thee? - - All lands, all realms beneath yon dome, - Where God’s own hand hath hung the stars, - To thee with humblest homage come, - O world beyond the crystal bars! - - Thou blest Hereafter! Mortal tongue - Hath striven in vain thy speech to learn, - And Fancy wanders, lost among - The flowery paths for which we yearn. - - But well we know that fair and bright, - Far beyond human ken or dream, - Too glorious for our feeble sight, - Thy skies of cloudless azure beam. - - We know thy happy valleys lie - In green repose, supremely blest; - We know against thy sapphire sky - Thy mountain-peaks sublimely rest. - - For sometimes even now we catch - Faint gleamings from thy far-off shore, - While still with eager eyes we watch - For one sweet sign or token more. - - The loved, the deeply loved, are there! - The brave, the fair, the good, the wise, - Who pined for thy serener air, - Nor shunned thy solemn mysteries. - - There are the hopes that, one by one, - Died even as we gave them birth; - The dreams that passed ere well begun, - Too dear, too beautiful for earth. - - The aspirations, strong of wing, - Aiming at heights we could not reach; - The songs we tried in vain to sing; - The thoughts too vast for human speech; - - Thou hast them all, Hereafter! Thou - Shalt keep them safely till that hour - When, with God’s seal on heart and brow, - We claim them in immortal power! - - -WITHOUT AND WITHIN - - Softly the gold has faded from the sky, - Slowly the stars have gathered one by one, - Calmly the crescent moon mounts up on high, - And the long day is done. - - With quiet heart my garden-walks I tread, - Feeling the beauty that I cannot see; - Beauty and fragrance all around me shed - By flower, and shrub, and tree. - - Often I linger where the roses pour - Exquisite odors from each glowing cup; - Or where the violet, brimmed with sweetness o’er, - Lifts its small chalice up. - - With fragrant breath the lilies woo me now, - And softly speaks the sweet-voiced mignonette, - While heliotropes, with meekly lifted brow, - Say to me, “Go not yet.” - - So for awhile I linger, but not long. - High in the heavens rideth fiery Mars, - Careering proudly ’mid the glorious throng, - Brightest of all the stars. - - But softly gleaming through the curtain’s fold, - The home-star beams with more alluring ray, - And, as a star led sage and seer of old, - So it directs my way; - - And leads me in where my young children lie, - Rosy and beautiful in tranquil rest; - The seal of sleep is on each fast-shut eye, - Heaven’s peace within each breast. - - I bring them gifts. Not frankincense nor myrrh— - Gifts the adoring Magi humbly brought - The young child, cradled in the arms of her - Blest beyond mortal thought; - - But love—the love that fills my mother-heart - With a sweet rapture oft akin to pain; - Such yearning love as bids the tear-drops start - And fall like summer rain. - - And faith—that dares, for their dear sakes, to climb - Boldly, where once it would have feared to go, - And calmly standing upon heights sublime, - Fears not the storm below. - - And prayer! O God! unto thy throne I come, - Bringing my darlings—but I cannot speak. - With love and awe oppressed, my lips are dumb: - Grant what my heart would seek! - - -VASHTI’S SCROLL - - Dethroned and crownless, I so late a queen! - Forsaken, poor and lonely, I who wore - The crown of Persia with such stately grace! - But yesterday a royal wife; but now - From my estate cast down, and fallen so low - That beggars scoff at me! Men toss my name - Backward and forward on their mocking tongues. - In all the king’s broad realm there is not one - To do poor Vashti homage. Even the dog - My hand had fondled, in the palace walls - Fawns on my rival. When I left the court, - Weeping and sore distressed, he followed me, - Licking my fingers, leaping in my face, - And frisking round me till I reached the gates. - Then with long pauses, as of one perplexed, - And frequent lookings backward, and low whines - Of puzzled wonder—that had made me smile - If I had been less lorn—with drooping ears, - Dropt eyes, and downcast forehead he went back, - Leaving me desolate. So went they all - Who, when Ahasuerus on my brow - Set his own royal crown and called me queen, - Made the air ring with plaudits! Loud they cried, - “Long live Queen Vashti, Persia’s fairest Rose, - Mother of Princes, and the nation’s Hope!” - The rose is withered now; the queen’s no more. - To these lorn breasts no princely boy shall cling - Or now, or ever. Yet on this poor scroll - I will rehearse the story of my woes, - And bid them lay it in the grave with me - When I depart to join the unnumbered dead. - - * * * * * - - Oh, thou unknown, unborn, who through the gloom - And mists of ages in my vaulted tomb - Shalt find this parchment, and with reverent care - Shalt bear it outward to the sun and air: - Oh, thou whose patient fingers shall unroll - With slow, persuasive touch this little scroll: - Oh, loving, tender eyes that, like twin stars, - I seem to see through yonder cloudy bars: - Read Vashti’s story, and I pray ye tell - The whole wide world if she did ill or well! - - Ahasuerus reigned. On Persia’s throne, - Lord of a mighty realm, he sat alone, - And stretched his sceptre from the farthest slope - Of India’s hills, to where the Ethiop - Dwelt in barbaric splendor. Kinglier king - Never did poet praise or minstrel sing! - He had no peers. Among his lords he shone - As shines a planet, single and alone; - And I, alas! I loved him, and we two - Such bliss as peasant lovers joy in, knew! - No lowly home in all our wide domain - Held more of peace than ours, or less of pain. - But one dark day—O, woeful day of days, - Whose hours I number now in sad amaze, - Thou hadst no prophet of the ills to be, - Nor sign nor omen came to succor me!— - That day Ahasuerus smiled and said, - “Since first I wore this crown upon my head - Thrice have the emerald clusters of the vine - Changed to translucent globes of ruby wine; - And thrice the peaches on the loaded walls - Have slowly rounded into wondrous balls - Of gold and crimson. I will make a feast. - Princes and lords, the greatest and the least, - All Persia and all Media, shall see - The pomp and splendor that encompass me. - The riches of my kingdom shall be shown, - And all my glorious majesty made known - Where’er the shadow of my sceptred hand - Sways a great people with its mute command!” - Then came from far and near a hurrying throng - Of skilled and cunning workmen. All day long - And far into the startled night, they wrought - Most quaint and beautiful devices—still - Responsive to their master’s eager will, - And giving form to his creative thought— - Till Shushan grew a marvel! - Never yet - Yon rolling sun on fairer scene has set: - The palace windows were ablaze with light; - And Persia’s lords were there, most richly dight - In broidered silks, or costliest cloth of gold, - That kept the sunshine in each lustrous fold, - Or softly flowing tissues, pure and white - As fleecy clouds at noonday. Clear and bright - Shone the pure gold of Ophir, and the gleam - Of burning gems, that mocked the pallid beam - Of the dim, wondering stars, made radiance there, - Splendor undreamed of, and beyond compare! - Up from the gardens floated the perfume - Of rose and myrtle, in their perfect bloom; - The red pomegranate cleft its heart in twain, - Pouring its life blood in a crimson rain; - The slight acacia waved its yellow plumes, - And afar off amid the starlit glooms - Were sweet recesses, where the orange bowers - Dropt their pure blossoms down in snowy showers, - And night reigned undisturbed. - From cups of gold - Diverse one from another, meet to hold - The king’s most costly wines, or to be raised - To princely lips, the gay guests drank, and praised - Their rich abundance. Rapturous music swept - Through the vast arches and the secret kept - Of its own joy; while in slow, rhythmic time - To clash of cymbal and the lute’s clear chime, - The dancing-girls stole through the fragrant night - With wreathéd arms, flushed cheeks and eyes alight, - And softly rounded forms that rose and fell - To the voluptuous music’s dreamy swell, - As if the air were pulsing waves that bore - Them up and onward to some longed-for shore! - - Wild waxed the revel. On an ivory throne - Inlaid with ebony and gems that shone - With a surpassing lustre, sat my lord, - The King Ahasuerus. His great sword, - Blazing with diamonds on hilt and blade,— - The mighty sword that made his foes afraid,— - And the proud sceptre he was wont to grasp, - With all the monarch in his kingly clasp, - Against the crouching lions (guard that kept - On either side the throne and never slept), - Leaned carelessly. And flowing downward o’er - The ivory steps even to the marble floor, - Swept the rich royal robes in many a fold - Of Tyrian purple flecked with yellow gold. - The jewelled crown his young head scorned to wear, - More fitly crowned by its own clustering hair, - Lay on a pearl-wrought cushion by his side, - Mute symbol of great Persia’s power and pride; - While on his brow some courtier’s hand had placed - The fairest chaplet monarch ever graced, - A wreath of dewy roses, fresh and sweet, - Just brought from out the garden’s cool retreat. - - Louder and louder grew the sounds of mirth; - Faster and faster flowed the red wine forth; - In high, exulting strains the minstrels sang - The monarch’s glory, till the great roof rang; - And flushed at length with pride and song and wine, - The king rose up and said, “O nobles mine! - Princes of Persia, Media’s hope and pride, - Stars of my kingdom, will ye aught beside? - Speak! and I swear your sovereign’s will shall be - On this fair night to please and honor ye!” - Then rose a shout from out the glittering throng - Drowning the voice of merriment and song, - Humming and murmuring like a hive of bees— - What would they more each charmèd sense to please? - - Out spoke at last a tongue that should have been - Palsied in foul dishonor there and then. - “O great Ahasuerus! ne’er before - Reigned such a king so blest a people o’er! - What shall we ask? What great and wondrous boon - To crown the hours that fly away too soon? - There is but one. ’Tis said that mortal eyes - Never yet gazed, in rapturous surprise, - Upon a face like that of her who wears - Thy signet-ring, and all thy glory shares,— - Thy fair Queen Vashti, she who yet shall be - Mother of him who reigneth after thee! - Show us that face, O king! For nought beside - Can make our cup of joy o’erflow with pride.” - - A murmur ran throughout the startled crowd, - Swelling at last to plaudits long and loud. - Maddened with wine, they knew not what they said. - Ahasuerus bent his haughty head, - And for an instant o’er his face there swept - A look his courtiers in their memory kept - For many a day—a look of doubt and pain, - They scarcely caught ere it had passed again. - “My word is pledged,” he said. Then to the seven - Lord chamberlains to whom the keys were given: - “Haste ye, and to this noble presence bring - Vashti, the Queen, with royal crown and ring; - That all my lords may see the matchless charms - Kind Heaven has sent to bless my kingly arms.” - - They did their errand, those old, gray-haired men, - Who should have braved the lion in his den, - Or ere they bore such message to their queen, - Or took such words their aged lips between. - What! I, the daughter of a royal race, - Step down, unblushing, from my lofty place, - And, like a common dancing-girl, who wears - Her beauty unconcealed, and, shameless, bares - Her brow to every gazer, boldly go - To those wild revellers my face to show? - I—who had kept my beauty pure and bright - Only because ’twas precious in his sight, - Guarding it ever as a holy thing, - Sacred to him, my lover, lord, and king,— - Could I unveil it to the curious eyes - Of the mad rabble that with drunken cries - Were shouting “Vashti! Vashti?”—Sooner far, - Beyond the rays of sun, or moon, or star, - I would have buried it in endless night! - Pale and dismayed, in wonder and affright, - My maidens hung around me as I told - Those seven lord chamberlains, so gray and old, - To bear this answer back: “It may not be. - My lord, my king, I cannot come to thee. - It is not meet that Persia’s queen, like one - Who treads the market-place from sun to sun, - Should bare her beauty to the hungry crowd, - Who name her name in accents hoarse and loud.” - With stern, cold looks they left me. Ah! I knew - If my dear lord to his best self were true, - That he would hold me guiltless, and would say, - “I thank thee, love, that thou didst not obey!” - But the red wine was ruling o’er his brain; - The cruel wine that recked not of my pain. - Up from the angry throng a clamor rose; - The flattering sycophants were now my foes; - And evil counsellors about the throne, - Hiding the jealous joy they dared not own, - With slow, wise words, and many a virtuous frown, - Said, “Be the queen from her estate cast down! - Let her not see the king’s face evermore, - Nor come within his presence as of yore; - So disobedient wives through all the land - Shall read the lesson, heed and understand.” - Up spoke another, eager to be heard, - In royal councils fain to have a word,— - “Let this commandment of the king be writ, - In the law of the Medes and Persians, as is fit,— - The perfect law that man may alter not - Nor of its bitter end abate one jot.” - Alas! the king was wroth. Before his face - I could not go to plead my piteous case; - But, pitiless, with scarce dissembled sneers, - And poisoned words that rankled in his ears, - My wily foes, afraid to let him pause, - Brought the great book that held the Persian laws, - And ere the rising of the morrow’s sun, - My bitter doom was sealed, the deed was done! - - Scarce had two moons passed when one dreary night - I sat within my bower in woeful plight, - When suddenly upon my presence stole - A muffled form, whose shadow stirred my soul - I knew not wherefore. Ere my tongue could speak, - Or with a breath the brooding silence break, - A low voice murmured “Vashti!” - Pale and still, - Hushing my heart’s cry with an iron will, - “What would the king?” I asked. No answer came, - But to his sad eyes leaped a sudden flame; - With clasping arms he raised me to his breast - And on my brow and lips such kisses pressed - As one might give the dead. I may not tell - All the wild words that I remember well. - Oh! was it joy or was it pain to know - That not alone I wept my weary woe? - Alas! I know not. But I know to-day— - If this be sin, forgive me, Heaven, I pray!— - That though his eyes have never looked on mine - Since that dark night when stars refused to shine, - And fair Queen Esther sits, a beauteous bride, - In stately Shushan at the monarch’s side, - The king remembers Vashti, even yet - Breathing her name sometimes with vain regret, - Or murmuring, haply, in a whisper low,— - “O pure, proud heart that loved me long ago!” - - -WHAT MY FRIEND SAID TO ME - - Trouble? dear friend, I know her not. God sent - His angel Sorrow on my heart to lay - Her hand in benediction, and to say, - “Restore, O child, that which thy Father lent, - For He doth now recall it,” long ago. - His blessed angel Sorrow! She has walked - For years beside me, and we two have talked - As chosen friends together. Thus I know - Trouble and Sorrow are not near of kin. - Trouble distrusteth God, and ever wears - Upon her brow the seal of many cares; - But Sorrow oft hast deepest peace within. - She sits with Patience in perpetual calm, - Waiting till Heaven shall send the healing balm. - - - HYMN - FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CEMETERY - - Ye Pines, with solemn grandeur crowned, - Put on your priestly robes to-day; - Henceforth ye stand on holy ground, - Where Love and Death hold equal sway. - - Lift up to Heaven each crested head, - And raise your giant arms on high, - And swear that o’er our slumbering dead - Ye will keep watch and ward for aye. - - For month by month, and year by year, - While shine the stars, and rolls the sea, - Our silent ones shall gather here, - To rest beneath the greenwood tree. - - Here no rude sight nor sound shall break - The calmness of their last, long sleep, - And Earth and Heaven, for Love’s sweet sake, - Shall o’er them ceaseless vigils keep. - - Our silent ones! Their very dust - Is precious in our longing eyes; - O, guard ye well the sacred trust, - Till God’s own voice shall bid them rise! - - -YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY - - But yesterday among us here, - One with ourselves in hope and fear: - Joying like us in little things, - The sheen of gorgeous insect wings, - The song of bird, the hum of bee, - The white foam of the heaving sea. - - But yesterday your simplest speech, - Your lightest breath, our hearts could reach; - Your very thoughts were ours. Our eyes - Found in your own no mysteries. - Your griefs, your joys, your prayers, we knew, - The hopes that with your girlhood grew. - - But yesterday we dared to say, - “’Twere better you should walk this way - Or that, dear child! Do thus or so; - Older and wiser we, you know.” - We gave you flowers and curled your hair, - And brought new robes for you to wear. - - To-day how far away thou art! - In all thy life we have no part. - Hast thou a want? We know it not; - Utterly parted from our lot, - The veriest stranger is to thee - All those who loved thee best can be. - - Deaf to our calls, our prayers, our cries, - Thou dost not lift thy heavy eyes; - Nor heed the tender words that flow - From lips whose kisses thrilled thee so - But yesterday! To-day in vain - We wait for kisses back again. - - To-day no awful mystery hid - The dark and mazy past amid - Is half so great as this that lies - Beneath the lids of thy shut eyes, - And in those frozen lips of stone, - Impassive lips, that smile nor moan. - - But yesterday with loving care - We petted, praised thee, called thee fair; - To-day, oppressed with awe, we stand - Before that ring-unfettered hand, - And scarcely dare to lift one tress - In mute and reverent caress. - - But yesterday with us. To-day - Where thou art dwelling, who can say? - In heaven? But where? Oh for some spell - To make thy tongue this secret tell! - To break the silence strange and deep, - That thy sealed lips so closely keep! - - - LYRIC - FOR THE DEDICATION OF A MUSIC-HALL - - No grand Cathedral’s vaulted space - Where, through the “dim, religious light,” - Gleam pictured saint and cross and crown, - We consecrate with song to-night; - - No stately temple lifting high - Its dome against the starlit skies, - Where lofty arch and glittering spire - Like miracles of beauty rise. - - Yet here beneath this humbler roof - With reverent hearts and lips we come; - Hail, music! Song and Beauty, hail! - Henceforth be these poor walls your home. - - Here speak to hearts that long have yearned - Your presence and your spells to know; - Here touch the lips athirst to drink - Where your perennial fountains flow. - - Here, where our glorious mountain-peaks - Sublimely pierce the ether blue, - Lift ye our souls, and bid them rise - In aspirations grand and true! - - O Music, Art, and Science, hail! - We greet you now with glad acclaims; - Ye bay-crowned ones! the listening air - Waits to re-echo with your names; - - Waits for your voices ringing clear - Above this weary, work-day world; - Waits till ye bid fair Truth arise, - While Error from her throne is hurled! - - -WHAT I LOST - - Wandering in the dewy twilight - Of a golden summer day, - When the mists upon the mountains - Flushed with purple splendor lay: - When the sunlight kissed the hilltops - And the vales were hushed and dim, - And from out the forest arches - Rose a holy vesper hymn— - I lost something. Have you seen it, - Children, ye who passed that way? - Did you chance to find the treasure - That I lost that summer day? - - It was neither gold nor silver, - Orient pearl nor jewel rare; - Neither amethyst nor ruby, - Nor an opal gleaming fair; - ’Twas no curious, quaint mosaic - Wrought by cunning master-hands, - Nor a cameo where Hebe, - Crowned with deathless beauty, stands. - Yet have I lost something precious; - Children, ye who passed that way— - Tell me, have you found the treasure - That I lost one summer day? - - Then, you say, it was a casket - Filled with India’s perfumes rare, - Or a tiny flask of crystal - Meet the rose’s breath to bear; - Or a bird of wondrous plumage, - With a voice of sweetest tone, - That, escaping from my bosom, - To the greenwood deep has flown. - Ah! not these, I answer vainly; - Children, ye who passed that way, - Ye can never find the treasure - That I lost that summer day! - - You may call it bird or blossom; - Name my treasure what you will; - Here no more its song or fragrance - Shall my soul with rapture fill. - But, thank God! our earthly losses - In no darksome void are cast; - Safely garnered, some to-morrow - Shall restore them all at last. - Somewhere in the great hereafter, - Children, ye who pass this way, - I shall find again the treasure - That I lost one summer day! - - -ONCE! - - Once in your sight, - As May buds swell in the sun’s warm light, - So grew her soul, - Yielding itself to your sweet control. - - Once if you spoke, - Echoing strains in her heart awoke, - Sending a thrill - All through its chambers sweet and still. - - Once if you said, - “Sweet, with Love’s garland I crown your head,” - Ah! how the rose - Flooded her forehead’s pale repose! - - Once if your lip - Dared the pure sweetness of hers to sip, - Softly and meek - Dark lashes drooped on a white rose cheek! - - Once if your name - Some one but whispered, a sudden flame - Burned on her cheek, - Telling a story she would not speak! - - You do but wait - At a sepulchre’s sealed gate! - Her love is dead, - Bound hand and foot in its narrow bed. - - Why did it die? - Ask of your soul the reason why! - Question it well, - And surely the secret it will tell. - - But if your heart - Ever again plays the lover’s part, - Let this truth be - Blent with the solemn mystery: - - Pure flame aspires; - Downward flow not the altar fires; - And skylarks soar - Up where the earth-mists vex no more. - - Now loose your hold - From her white garment’s spotless fold, - And let her pass— - While both hearts murmur, “Alas! alas!” - - -CATHARINE - - O wondrous mystery of death! - I yield me to thine awful sway, - And with hushed heart and bated breath - Bow down before thy shrine to-day! - - But yesterday these pallid lips - Breathed reverently my humble name; - These eyes now closed in drear eclipse - Brightened with gratitude’s soft flame. - - These poor, pale hands were swift to do - The lowliest service I might ask; - These palsied feet the long day through - Moved gladly to each wonted task. - - O faithful, patient, loving one, - Who from earth’s great ones shrank afar, - Canst bear the presence of The Son, - And dwell where holy angels are? - - Dost thou not meekly bow thine head, - And stand apart with humblest mien, - Nor dare with softest step to tread - The ranks of shining Ones between? - - Dost thou not kneel with downcast eyes - The hem of some white robe to touch, - While on thine own meek forehead lies - The crown of her who “lovèd much?” - - O vain imaginings! To-day - Earth’s loftiest prince is not thy peer. - Come, Sage and Seer! mute homage pay - To this Pale Wonder lying here! - - -THE NAME - - I know not by what name to call thee, thou - Who reignest supreme, sole sovereign of my heart! - Thou who the lode-star of my being art, - Thou before whom my soul delights to bow! - What shall I call thee? Teach me some dear name - Better than all the rest, that I may pour - All that the years have taught me of love’s lore - In one fond word. “Lover?” But that’s too tame, - And “Friend”’s too cold, though thou art both to me. - Art thou my King? Kings sit enthroned afar, - And crowns less meet for love than reverence are, - While both my heart gives joyfully to thee. - Art thou—but, ah! I’ll cease the idle quest: - I cannot tell what name befits thee best! - - -UNDER THE PALM-TREES - - We were children together, you and I; - We trod the same paths in days of old; - Together we watched the sunset sky, - And counted its bars of massive gold. - And when from the dark horizon’s brim - The moon stole up with its silver rim, - And slowly sailed through the fields of air, - We thought there was nothing on earth so fair. - - You walk to-night where the jasmines grow, - And the Cross looks down from the tropic skies; - Where the spicy breezes softly blow, - And the slender shafts of the palm-trees rise. - You breathe the breath of the orange-flowers, - And the perfumed air of the myrtle-bowers; - You pluck the acacia’s golden balls, - And mark where the red pomegranate falls. - - I stand to-night on the breezy hill, - Where the pine-trees sing as they sang of yore; - The north star burneth clear and still, - And the moonbeams silver your father’s door. - I can see the hound as he lies asleep, - In the shadow close by the old well-sweep, - And hear the river’s murmuring flow - As we two heard it long ago. - - Do you think of the firs on the mountain-side - As you walk to-night where the palm-trees grow? - Of the brook where the trout in the darkness hide? - Of the yellow willows waving slow? - Do you long to drink of the crystal spring, - In the dell where the purple harebells swing? - Would your pulses leap could you hear once more - The sound of the flail on the threshing-floor? - - Ah! the years are long, and the world is wide, - And the salt sea rolls our hearts between; - And never again at eventide - Shall we two gaze on the same fair scene. - But under the palm-trees wandering slow, - You think of the spreading elms I know; - And you deem our daisies fairer far - Than the gorgeous blooms of the tropics are! - - -NIGHT AND MORNING - - -I. - - Night and darkness over all! - Nature sleeps beneath a pall; - Not a ray from moon or stars - Glimmers through the cloudy bars; - Huge and black the mountains stand - Frowning upon either hand, - And the river, dark and deep, - Gropes its way from steep to steep. - Yonder tree, whose young leaves played - In the sunshine and the shade, - Stretches out its arms like one - Sudden blindness hath undone. - Pale and dim the rose-queen lies - Robbed of all her gorgeous dyes, - And the lily bendeth low, - Mourner in a garb of woe. - Never a shadow comes or goes, - Never a gleam its glory throws - Over cottage or over hall— - Darkness broodeth over all! - - -II. - - Lo! the glorious morning breaks! - Nature from her sleep awakes, - And, in purple pomp, the day - Bids the darkness flee away. - Crowned with light the mountains stand - Royally on either hand, - And the laughing waters run - In glad haste to meet the sun. - Stately trees, exultant, raise - Their proud heads in grateful praise; - Flowers, dew-laden, everywhere - Pour rich incense on the air, - And the ascending vapors rise - Like the smoke of sacrifice. - Birds are trilling, bees are humming, - Swift to greet the new day coming, - And earth’s myriad voices sing - Hymns of grateful welcoming. - Bursting from night’s heavy thrall, - Heaven’s own light is over all! - - -AGNES - - Agnes! Agnes! is it thus - Thou, at last, dost come to us? - From the land of balm and bloom, - Blandest airs and sweet perfume, - Where the jasmine’s golden stars - Glimmer soft through emerald bars, - And the fragrant orange flowers - Fall to earth in silver showers, - Agnes! Agnes! - With thy pale hands on thy breast, - Comest thou here to take thy rest? - - Agnes! Agnes! o’er thy grave - Loud the winter winds will rave, - And the snow fall fast around, - Heaping high thy burial mound; - Yet, within its soft embrace, - Thy dear form and earnest face, - Wrapt away from burning pain, - Ne’er shall know one pang again. - Agnes! Agnes! - Nevermore shall anguish vex thee, - Nevermore shall care perplex thee. - - Agnes! Agnes! wait, ah! wait - Just one moment at the gate, - Ere your pure feet enter in - Where is neither pain nor sin. - Thou art blest, but how shall we - Bear the pang of losing thee? - List! _we love thee!_ By that word - Once thy heart of hearts was stirred. - Agnes! Agnes! - By that love we bid thee wait - Just one moment at the gate! - - Agnes! Agnes! No! Pass on - To the heaven that thou hast won! - By thy life of brave endeavor, - Up the heights aspiring ever, - Whence thy voice, like clarion clear, - Rang out words of lofty cheer; - By thy laboring not in vain, - By thy martyrdom of pain, - Our Saint Agnes— - From our yearning sight pass on - To the rest that thou hast won! - - -“INTO THY HANDS” - - Into thy hands, O Father! Now at last, - Weary with struggling and with long unrest, - Vext by remembrances of conflicts past - And by a host of present cares opprest, - - I come to thee and cry, Thy will be done! - Take thou the burden I have borne too long. - Into thy hands, O mighty, loving One, - My weakness gives its all, for thou art strong! - - For life—for death. I cannot see the way; - I blindly wander on to meet the night; - The path grows steeper, and the dying day - Soon with its shadows will shut out the light. - - Hold thou my hand, O Father! I am tired - As a young child that wearies of the road; - And the far heights toward which I once aspired - Have lost the glory with which erst they glowed. - - Take thou my life, and mold it to thy will; - Into thy hands commit I all my way; - Fain would I lift each cup that thou dost fill, - Nor from its brim my pale lips ever stay. - - Take thou my life. I lay it at thy feet; - And in my death my sure support be thou; - So shall I sink to slumber calm and sweet, - And wake at morn before thy face to bow! - - -IDLE WORDS - - -I. - - Once I said, - Seeing two soft, starry eyes - Darkly bright as midnight skies,— - Eyes prophetic of the power - Sure to be thy woman’s dower, - When the years should crown thee queen - Of the realm as yet unseen,— - “Some time, sweet, those eyes shall make - Lovers mad for their sweet sake!” - - -II. - - Once I said, - Seeing tresses, golden-brown, - In a bright shower falling down - Over neck and bosom white - As an angel’s clad in light— - Odorous tresses drooping low - O’er a forehead pure as snow,— - “Some time, sweet, in thy soft hair - Love shall set a shining snare!” - - -III. - - Once I said, - Seeing lips whose crimson hue - Mocked the roses wet with dew,— - Warm, sweet lips, whose breath was balm,— - Pure, proud lips, serenely calm,— - Tender lips, whose smiling grace - Lit with splendor all the face,— - “Sweet, for kiss of thine some day - Men will barter souls away!” - - -IV. - - Idly said! - God hath taken care of all - Joy or pain that might befall! - Lover’s lip shall never thrill - At thy kisses, soft and still; - Lover’s heart shall never break - In sore anguish for thy sake; - Lover’s soul for thee shall know - Nor love’s rapture, nor its woe;— - All is said! - - -THE SPARROW TO THE SKYLARK - - O skylark, soaring, soaring, - Ere day is well begun, - Thy full, glad song outpouring - To greet the rising sun,— - So high, so high in heaven - Thy swift wing cleaves the blue, - We sparrows in the hedges - Can scarcely follow you! - - O strong, unwearied singer! - By summer winds caressed, - Among the white clouds floating - With sunshine on thy breast, - We hear thy clear notes dropping - In showers of golden rain, - A glad, triumphant music - That hath no thought of pain! - - We twitter in the hedges; - We chirp our little songs, - Whose low, monotonous murmur - To homeliest life belongs; - We perch in lowly places, - We hop from bough to bough, - While in the wide sky-spaces, - On strong wing soarest thou! - - Yet we—we share the rapture - And glory of thy flight— - Thou’rt still a bird, O skylark,— - Thou spirit glad and bright! - And ah! no sparrow knoweth - But its low note may be - Part of earth’s joy and gladness - That finds full voice in thee! - - -THE BELL OF ST. PAUL’S - -“The great bell of St. Paul’s, which only sounds when the King is dead.” - - - Toll, toll, thou solemn bell! - A royal head lies low, - And mourners through the palace halls - Slowly and sadly go. - Lift up thine awful voice, - Thou, silent for so long! - Say that a monarch’s soul has passed - To join the shadowy throng. - - Toll yet again, thou bell! - Mutely thine iron tongue, - Prisoned within yon lofty tower, - For many a year has hung. - But now its mournful peal - Startles a nation’s ear, - And swells from listening shore to shore, - That the whole world may hear. - - A whisper from the past - Blends with each solemn tone - That from those brazen lips of thine - Upon the air is thrown. - Never had trumpet’s peal, - On clarion sounding shrill, - Such power as that deep undertone - The listener’s heart to thrill. - - Come, tell us tales, thou bell, - Of those of old renown, - Those sturdy warrior kings who fought - For sceptre and for crown. - Tell of the lion-hearts - Whose pulses moved the world; - Whose banners flew so swift and far, - O’er land and sea unfurled! - - From out the buried years, - From many a vaulted tomb, - Whence neither pomp nor power could chase - The dim, sepulchral gloom, - Lo, now, a pale, proud line, - They glide before our eyes!— - Art thou a wizard, mighty bell, - To bid the dead arise? - - But toll, toll on, thou bell! - Toll for the royal dead; - Toll—for the hand now sceptreless; - Toll—for the crownless head; - Toll—for the human heart - With all its loves and woes; - Toll—for the soul that passes now - Unto its long repose! - - - DECEMBER 26, 1910 - A BALLAD OF MAJOR ANDERSON - - - Come, children, leave your playing this dark and stormy night, - Shut fast the rattling window-blinds, and make the fire burn bright; - And hear an old man’s story, while loud the fierce winds blow, - Of gallant Major Anderson and fifty years ago. - - I was a young man then, boys, but twenty-nine years old, - And all my comrades knew me for a soldier brave and bold; - My eye was bright, my step was firm, I measured six feet two, - And I knew not what it was to shirk when there was work to do. - - We were stationed at Fort Moultrie, in Charleston harbor, then, - A brave band, though a small one, of scarcely seventy men; - And day and night we waited for the coming of the foe, - With noble Major Anderson, just fifty years ago. - - Were they French or English, ask you? Oh, neither, neither, child! - We were at peace with other lands, and all the nations smiled - On the stars and stripes, wherever they floated far and free, - And all the foes we had to meet we found this side the sea. - - But even between brothers bitter feuds will sometimes rise, - And ’twas the cloud of civil war that darkened in the skies; - I have not time to tell you how the quarrel first began, - Or how it grew, till o’er our land the strife like wildfire ran. - - I will not use hard words, my boys, for I am old and gray, - And I’ve learned it is an easy thing for the best to go astray; - Some wrong there was on either part, I do not doubt at all; - There are two sides to a quarrel—be it great or be it small! - - You scarce believe me, children. Grief and doubt are in your eyes, - Fixed steadily upon me in wonder and surprise; - Don’t forget to thank our Father, when to-night you kneel to pray, - That an undivided people rule America to-day. - - We were stationed at Fort Moultrie—but about a mile away, - The battlements of Sumter stood proudly in the bay; - ’Twas by far the best position, as he could not help but know, - Our gallant Major Anderson, just fifty years ago. - - Yes, ’twas just after Christmas, fifty years ago to-night; - The sky was calm and cloudless, the moon was large and bright; - At six o’clock the drum beat to call us to parade, - And not a man suspected the plan that had been laid. - - But the first thing a soldier learns is that he must obey, - And that when an order’s given he has not a word to say; - So when told to man the boats, not a question did we ask, - But silently, yet eagerly, began our hurried task. - - We did a deal of work that night, though our numbers were but few; - We had all our stores to carry, and our ammunition too; - And the guard-ship—’twas the Nina—set to watch us in the bay, - Never dreamed what we were doing, though ’twas almost light as day. - - We spiked the guns we left behind, and cut the flag-staff down,— - From its top should float no colors if it might not hold our own,— - Then we sailed away for Sumter as fast as we could go, - With our good Major Anderson, just fifty years ago. - - I never can forget, my boys, how the next day, at noon, - The drums beat and the band played a stirring martial tune, - And silently we gathered round the flag-staff, strong and high, - Forever pointing upward to God’s temple in the sky. - - Our noble Major Anderson was good as he was brave, - And he knew without His blessing no banner long could wave; - So he knelt, with head uncovered, while the chaplain read a prayer, - And as the last amen was said, the flag rose high in air. - - Then our loud huzzas rang out, far and widely o’er the sea! - We shouted for the stars and stripes, the standard of the free! - Every eye was fixed upon it, every heart beat warm and fast, - As with eager lips we promised to defend it to the last! - - ’Twas a sight to be remembered, boys—the chaplain with his book, - Our leader humbly kneeling, with his calm, undaunted look; - And the officers and men, crushing tears they would not shed,— - And the blue sea all around us, and the blue sky overhead! - - Now, go to bed, my children, the old man’s story’s told,— - Stir up the fire before you go, ’tis bitter, bitter cold; - And I’ll tell you more to-morrow night, when loud the fierce winds - blow, - Of gallant Major Anderson and fifty years ago. - - -FROM BATON ROUGE - - From the fierce conflict and the deadly fray - A patriot hero comes to us this day. - - Greet him with music and with loud acclaim, - And let our hills re-echo with his name. - - Bring rarest flowers their rich perfume to shed, - Like sweetest incense, round the warrior’s head. - - Let heart and voice cry “welcome,” and a shout, - Upon the summer air, ring gayly out, - - To hail the hero, who from fierce affray - And deadly conflict comes to us this day. - - Alas! alas! for smiles ye give but tears, - And wordless sorrow on each face appears. - - And for glad music, jubilant and clear, - The tolling bell, the muffled drum, we hear. - - Woe to _us_, soldier, loyal, tried, and brave, - That we have naught to give thee but a grave. - - Woe that the wreath that should have decked thy brow, - Can but be laid upon thy coffin now. - - Woe that thou canst not hear us when we say,— - “Hail to thee, brother, welcome home to-day!” - - O God, we lift our waiting eyes to Thee, - And sadly cry, how long must these things be? - - How long must noble blood be poured like rain, - Flooding our land from mountain unto main? - - How long from desolated hearths must rise - The smoke of life’s most costly sacrifice? - - Our brothers languish upon beds of pain,— - Father, O Father, have they bled in vain? - - Is it for naught that they have drunken up - The very dregs of this most bitter cup? - - How long? how long? O God! our cause is just, - And in Thee only do we put our trust. - - As Thou didst guide the Israelites of old - Through the Red Sea, and through the desert wold, - - Lead Thou our leaders, and our land shall be - For evermore, the land where all are free! - - * * * * * - - Hail and farewell,—we whisper in one breath, - As thus we meet thee, hand in hand with death! - - God give thy ashes undisturbed repose - Where drum-beat wakens neither friend nor foes; - - God take thy spirit to eternal rest, - And, for Christ’s sake, enroll thee with the blest! - - - IN THE WILDERNESS - MAY 6, 1864 - - - How beautiful was earth that day! - The far blue sky had not a cloud; - The river rippled on its way, - Singing sweet songs aloud. - - The delicate beauty of the spring - Pervaded all the murmuring air; - It touched with grace the meanest thing - And made it very fair. - - The blithe birds darted to and fro, - The bees were humming round the hive, - So happy in that radiant glow! - So glad to be alive! - - And I? My heart was calmly blest. - I knew afar the war-cloud rolled - Lurid and dark, in fierce unrest, - Laden with woes untold. - - But on that day my fears were stilled; - The very air I breathed was joy; - The rest and peace my soul that filled - Had nothing of alloy. - - I took the flower he loved the best, - The arbutus,—fairest child of May,— - And with its perfume half oppressed, - Twined many a lovely spray - - About his picture on the wall; - His eyes were on me all the while, - And when I had arranged them all - I thought he seemed to smile. - - O Christ, be pitiful! That hour - Saw him fall bleeding on the sod; - And while I toyed with leaf and flower - His soul went up to God! - - For him one pang—and then a crown; - For him the laurels heroes wear; - For him a name whose long renown - Ages shall onward bear. - - For me the cross without the crown; - For me the drear and lonely life; - O God! My sun, not his, went down - On that red field of strife. - - -CHARLEY OF MALVERN HILL - - A war-worn soldier, bronzed and seamed - By weary march and battle stroke; - ’Twas thus, while leaning on his crutch, - The wounded veteran spoke,— - - “The blue-eyed boy of Malvern Hill! - A hero every inch was he, - Though scarcely larger than the child - You hold, sir, on your knee. - - Some mother’s darling! On that field - He seemed so strangely out of place, - With his pure brow, his shining hair, - His sweet, unconscious grace. - - But not a bearded warrior there - Watched with a more undaunted eye - The blackness of the battle-cloud, - As the fierce storm rose high. - - That morn—ah! what a morn was that!— - We thought to send him to the rear; - We loved the lad—and love, you know, - Is near akin to fear. - - We knew that many a gallant soul - Must pass away in one long sigh, - Ere nightfall. On that bloody field, - ’Twas not for boys to die. - - But he—could you have seen him then, - As, with his blue eyes full of fire, - He poured forth tears and pleadings, half - Of shame and half of ire! - - ‘Oh! do not bid me go!’ he cried; - ‘I love yon flag as well as you! - I did not join your ranks to run - When there is work to do! - - I did not come to beat my drum - Only upon some gala day.’ - The colonel shook his head, but said, - ‘Well, Charley, you may stay.’ - - Ah! then his tears were quickly dried, - A few glad words he strove to say; - But there was little time to talk, - And hardly time to pray. - - For bitter, bitter was the strife - That raged that day on Malvern Hill; - Blue coats and gray in great heaps lay, - Ere that wild storm grew still. - - At length we charged. My very heart - Sank down within me, cold and dumb, - When to the front, and far ahead, - Rushed Charley with his drum! - - Above the cannon’s thundering boom, - The din and shriek of shot and shell, - We heard its clear peal rolling out - Right gallantly and well. - - A moment’s awful waiting! Then - There came a sullen, angry roar,— - O God! An empty void remained - Where Charley stood before. - - What did we then? With souls on fire - We swept upon the advancing foe, - And bade good angels guard the dust - O‘er which no tears might flow!” - - - SUPPLICAMUS - 1864 - - - O laggard Sun! make haste to wake - From her long trance the slumbering earth; - Make haste this icy spell to break, - That she may give new glories birth! - - O April rain! so soft, so warm, - Bounteous in blessing, rich in gifts, - Drop tenderly upon her form, - And bathe the forehead she uplifts. - - O springing grass! make haste to run - With swift feet o’er the meadows bare; - O’er hill and dale, through forest dun, - And where the wandering brooklets are! - - O sweet wild flowers! the darksome mould - Hasten with subtle strength to rift; - Serene in beauty, meek yet bold, - Your fair brows to the sunlight lift! - - O haste ye all! for far away - In lonely beds our heroes sleep, - O’er which no wife may ever pray, - Nor child nor mother ever weep. - - No quaintly carved memorial stone - May tell us that their ashes lie - Where southern pines make solemn moan, - And wailing winds give sad reply. - - But deep in dreary, lonesome shades, - On many a barren, sandy plain, - By rocky pass, in tangled glades, - And by the rolling, restless main; - - By rushing stream, by silent lake, - Uncoffined in their lowly graves, - Until the earth’s last morn shall break, - Must sleep our unforgotten braves! - - O sun! O rain! O gentle dew! - O fresh young grass, and opening flowers! - With yearning hearts we leave to you - The holy task that should be ours! - - Light up the darkling forest’s gloom; - Cover the bare, unsightly clay - With tenderest verdure, with the bloom, - The beauty and perfume of May! - - O sweet blue violets! softly creep - Beside the slumbering warrior’s bed; - O roses! let your red hearts leap - For joy your rarest sweets to shed; - - O humble mosses! such as make - New England’s woods and pastures fair, - Over each mound, for Love’s sweet sake, - Spread your soft folds with tender care. - - Dear Nature, to your loving breast - Clasp our dead heroes! In your arms - Sweet be their sleep, serene their rest, - Unmoved by Battle’s loud alarms! - - -THE LAST OF SIX - - Come in; you are welcome, neighbor; all day I’ve been alone, - And heard the wailing, wintry wind sweep by with bitter moan; - And to-night beside my lonely fire, I mutely wonder why - I, who once wept as others weep, sit here with tearless eye. - - To-day this letter came to me. At first I could not brook - Upon the unfamiliar lines by strangers penned, to look; - The dread of evil tidings shook my soul with wild alarm— - But Harry’s in the hospital, and has only lost an arm. - - He is the last—the last of six brave boys as e’er were seen! - How short, to memory’s vision, seem the years that lie between - This hour and those most blessed ones, when round this hearth’s - bright blaze - They charmed their mother’s heart and eye with all their pretty - ways! - - My William was the eldest son, and he was first to go. - It did not at all surprise me, for I knew it would be so, - From that fearful April Sunday when the news from Sumter came, - And his lips grew white as ashes, while his eyes were all aflame. - - He sprang to join the three months’ men. I could not say him nay, - Though my heart stood still within me when I saw him march away; - At the corner of the street he smiled, and waved the flag he bore; - I never saw him smile again—he was slain at Baltimore. - - They sent his body back to me, and as we stood around - His grave, beside his father’s, in yonder burial-ground, - John laid his hand upon my arm and whispered, “Mother dear, - I have Willy’s work and mine to do. I cannot loiter here.” - - I turned and looked at Paul, for he and John were twins, you know, - Born on a happy Christmas, four-and-twenty years ago; - I looked upon them both, while my tears fell down like rain, - For I knew what one had spoken, had been spoken by the twain. - - In a month or more they left me—the merry, handsome boys, - Who had kept the old house ringing with their laughter, fun, and - noise. - Then James came home to mind the farm; my younger sons were still - Mere children, at their lessons in the school-house on the hill. - - O days of weary waiting! O days of doubt and dread! - I feared to read the papers, or to see the lists of dead; - But when full many a battle-storm had left them both unharmed, - I taught my foolish heart to think the double lives were charmed. - - Their colonel since has told me that no braver boys than they - Ever rallied round the colors, in the thickest of the fray; - Upon the wall behind you their swords are hanging still— - For John was killed at Fair Oaks, and Paul at Malvern Hill. - - Then came the dark days, darker than any known before; - There was another call for men—“three hundred thousand more;” - I saw the cloud on Jamie’s brow grow deeper day by day; - I shrank before the impending blow, and scarce had strength to pray. - - And yet at last I bade him go, while on my cheek and brow - His loving tears and kisses fell; I feel them even now, - Though the eyes that shed the tears, and the lips so warm on mine - Are hidden under southern sands, beneath a blasted pine! - - He did not die in battle-smoke, but for a weary year - He languished in close prison walls, a prey to hope and fear; - I dare not trust myself to think of the fruitless pangs he bore, - My brain grows wild when in my dreams I count his sufferings o’er. - - Only two left! I thought the worst was surely over then; - But lo! at once my school-boy sons sprang up before me—men! - They heard their brothers’ martyr blood call from the hallowed - ground; - A loud, imperious summons that all other voices drowned. - - I did not say a single word. My very heart seemed dead. - What could I do but take the cup, and bow my weary head - To drink the bitter draught again? I dared not hold them back; - I would as soon have tried to check the whirlwind on its track. - - You know the rest. At Cedar Creek my Frederick bravely fell; - They say his young arm did its work right nobly and right well; - His comrades breathe the hero’s name with mingled love and pride; - I miss the gentle blue-eyed boy, who frolicked at my side. - - For me, I ne’er shall weep again. I think my heart is dead; - I, who could weep for lighter griefs, have now no tears to shed. - But read this letter, neighbor. There is nothing to alarm, - For Harry’s in the hospital, and has only lost an arm! - - -THE DRUMMER BOY’S BURIAL - - All day long the storm of battle through the startled valley swept; - All night long the stars in heaven o’er the slain sad vigils kept. - - Oh, the ghastly, upturned faces, gleaming whitely through the night! - Oh, the heaps of mangled corses in that dim, sepulchral light! - - One by one the pale stars faded, and at length the morning broke; - But not one of all the sleepers on that field of death awoke. - - Slowly passed the golden hours of the long bright summer day, - And upon the field of carnage still the dead unburied lay; - - Lay there stark and cold, but pleading with a dumb, unceasing - prayer, - For a little dust to hide them from the staring sun and air. - - Once again the night dropped round them—night so holy and so calm - That the moonbeams hushed the spirit, like the sound of prayer or - psalm. - - On a couch of trampled grasses, just apart from all the rest, - Lay a fair young boy, with small hands meekly folded on his breast. - - Death had touched him very gently, and he lay as if in sleep; - Even his mother scarce had shuddered at that slumber, calm and deep. - - For a smile of wondrous sweetness lent a radiance to the face, - And the hand of cunning sculptor could have added naught of grace - - To the marble limbs so perfect in their passionless repose, - Robbed of all save matchless purity by hard, unpitying foes. - - And the broken drum beside him all his life’s short story told; - How he did his duty bravely till the death-tide o’er him rolled. - - Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem of stars, - While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery planet Mars. - - Hark! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices whispering low— - Was it nothing but the young leaves, or the brooklet’s murmuring - flow? - - Clinging closely to each other, striving never to look round - As they passed with silent shudder the pale corses on the ground, - - Came two little maidens—sisters—with a light and hasty tread, - And a look upon their faces, half of sorrow, half of dread. - - And they did not pause nor falter till, with throbbing hearts, they - stood - Where the Drummer-Boy was lying in that partial solitude. - - They had brought some simple garments from their wardrobe’s scanty - store, - And two heavy iron shovels in their slender hands they bore. - - Then they quickly knelt beside him, crushing back the pitying tears, - For they had no time for weeping, nor for any girlish fears. - - And they robed the icy body, while no glow of maiden shame - Changed the pallor of their foreheads to a flush of lambent flame. - - For their saintly hearts yearned o’er it in that hour of sorest - need, - And they felt that Death was holy and it sanctified the deed. - - But they smiled and kissed each other when their new, strange task - was o’er, - And the form that lay before them its unwonted garments wore. - - Then with slow and weary labor a small grave they hollowed out, - And they lined it with the withered grass and leaves that lay about. - - But the day was slowly breaking ere their holy work was done, - And in crimson pomp the morning again heralded the sun. - - And then those little maidens—they were children of our foes— - Laid the body of our Drummer-Boy to undisturbed repose. - - -1865 - - O darkest Year! O brightest Year! - O changeful Year of joy and woe, - To-day we stand beside thy bier, - Still loth to let thee go! - - We look upon thy brow, and say, - “How old he is,—how old and worn!” - Has but a twelvemonth passed away - Since thou wert newly born? - - So long it seems since on the air - The joy-bells rang to hail thy birth— - And pale lips strove to call thee fair, - And sing the songs of mirth! - - For dark the heavens that o’er thee hung; - By stormy winds thy couch was rocked; - Thy cradle-hymn the Furies sung, - While sneering Demons mocked! - - We held our very breath for dread; - Shadowed by clouds, that, like a pall, - Darkened the blue sky overhead, - And night hung over all. - - But thou wert better than our fears, - And bade our land’s long anguish cease; - And gave us, O thou Year of years, - The costly pearl of Peace! - - So dearly bought! By precious blood - Of patriot heroes—sire and son— - And that of him, the pure and good, - Our wearied, martyred One; - - Who bore for us the heavy load— - The cross our hands upon him laid; - Who trod for us the toilsome road - Meekly, yet undismayed! - - And for that gift—although thy graves - Lie thick beneath December’s snow, - Though every hamlet mourns its braves, - And bears its weight of woe— - - We bless thee! Yet, O bounteous year, - For more than Peace we thank thee now, - As bending o’er thine honored bier, - We crown thy pallid brow! - - We bless thee, though we scarcely dare - Give to our new-born joy a tongue; - O mighty Year, upon the air - Thy voice triumphant rung, - - Even in death! and at the sound, - From myriad limbs the fetters fell - Into the dim and vast profound, - While tolled thy passing bell! - - Farewell, farewell, thou storied Year! - Thou wondrous Year of joy and gloom! - With grateful hearts we crown thee, ere - We lay thee in thy tomb! - - -OUR FLAGS AT THE CAPITOL - - Remove them not! Above our fallen braves - Nature not yet her perfect work hath wrought; - Scarce has the turf grown green upon their graves, - The martyr graves for whose embrace they fought. - - The wounds of our long conflict are not healed; - Our land’s fair face is seamed with many a scar; - And woeful sights, on many a battle-field, - Show ghastly grim beneath the evening star. - - Still does the sad Earth tremble with affright, - Lest she the tread of armèd hosts should feel - Once more upon her bosom. Still the Night - Hears, in wild dreams, the cannon’s thundering peal. - - Still do the black-robed mothers come and go; - Still do lone wives by dreary hearth-stones weep; - Still does a Nation, in her pride and woe, - For her dead sons a mournful vigil keep. - - Ah, then, awhile delay! Remove ye not - These drooping banners from their place on high; - They make of each proud hall a hallowed spot, - Where Truth must dwell and Freedom cannot die. - - Now slowly waving in this tranquil air, - What wondrous eloquence is in their speech! - No prophet “silver tongued,” no poet rare, - Even in dreams may hope such heights to reach. - - They tell of Life that calmly looked on Death— - Of peerless valor and of trust sublime— - Of costly sacrifice, of holiest faith, - Of lofty hopes that ended not with Time. - - Oh! each worn fold is hallowed! set apart - To minister unto us in our needs— - To bear henceforth to many a fainting heart, - The cordial wine of noble thoughts and deeds. - - Then leave them yet awhile where, day by day, - The lessons that they teach, your souls may learn; - So shall ye work for righteousness alway, - And for its faithful service ever yearn. - - Now may God bless our land for evermore! - And from all strife and turmoil grant surcease; - While from the mountains to the farthest shore - Accordant voices softly whisper—Peace! - - -MY MOCKING-BIRD - - Mocking-bird! mocking-bird! swinging high - Aloft in your gilded cage, - The clouds are hurrying over the sky, - The wild winds fiercely rage. - But soft and warm is the air you breathe - Up there with the tremulous ivy wreath, - And never an icy blast can chill - The perfumed silence sweet and still. - - Mocking-bird! mocking-bird! from your throat - Breaks forth no flood of song, - Nor even one perfect golden note, - Triumphant, glad, and strong! - But now and then a pitiful wail, - Like the plaintive sigh of the dying gale, - Comes from that arching breast of thine - Swinging up there with the ivy-vine. - - Mocking-bird! mocking-bird! well I know - Your heart is far away, - Where the golden stars of the jasmine glow, - And the roses bloom alway! - For your cradle-nest was softly made - In the depth of a blossoming myrtle’s shade; - And you heard the chant of the southern seas - Borne inland by the favoring breeze. - - But, ah, my beautiful mocking-bird! - Should I bear you back again, - Never would song of yours be heard - Echoing through the glen. - For once, ah! once at the dawn of day, - You waked to the roar of the deadly fray, - When the terrible clash of armèd foes - Startled the vale from its dim repose. - - At first you sat on a swaying bough, - Mocking the bugle’s blare, - Fearless and free in the fervid glow - Of the heated, sulphurous air. - Your voice rang out like a trumpet’s note, - With a martial ring in its upward float, - And stern men smiled, for you seemed to be - Cheering them on to victory! - - But at length, as the awful day wore on, - You flew to a tree-top high, - And sat like a spectre grim and wan, - Outlined against the sky; - Sat silently watching the fiery fray - Till, heaps upon heaps, the Blue and Gray - Lay together, a silent band, - Whose souls had passed to the shadowy land. - - Ah, my mocking-bird! swinging there - Under the ivy-vine, - You still remember the bugle’s blare, - And the blood poured forth like wine. - The soul of song in your gentle breast - Died in that hour of fierce unrest, - When like a spectre grim and wan, - You watched to see how the strife went on. - - -COMING HOME - - When the winter winds were loud, - And Earth wore a snowy shroud, - Oft our darling wrote to us, - And the words ran ever thus— - “I am coming in the spring! - With the mayflower’s blossoming, - With the young leaves on the tree, - O my dear ones, look for me!” - - And she came. One dreary day, - When the skies were dull and gray, - Softly through the open door - Our belovèd came once more. - Came with folded hands that lay - Very quietly alway— - Came with heavy-lidded eyes, - Lifted not in glad surprise. - - Not a single word she spoke; - Laugh nor sigh her silence broke - As across the quiet room, - Darkening in the twilight gloom, - On she passed in stillest guise, - Calm as saint in Paradise, - To the spot where—woe betide!— - Four years since she stood a bride. - - Then, you think, we sprang to greet her— - Sprang with outstretched hands, to meet her; - Clasped her in our arms once more, - As in happy days of yore; - Poured warm kisses on her cheek, - Passive lips and forehead meek, - Till the barrier melted down - That had thus between us grown. - - Ah no!—Darling, did you know - When we bent above you so? - When our tears fell down like rain, - And our hearts were wild with pain? - Did you pity us that day, - Even as holy angels may - Pity mortals here below, - While they wonder at their woe? - - Who can tell us? Word nor sign - Came from those pale lips of thine; - Loving hearts and yearning breast - Lay in coldest, calmest rest. - Is thy Heaven so very fair - That thou dost forget us there? - Speak, belovèd! Woe is me - That in vain I call on thee! - - -WAKENING EARLY - - In loving jest you wrote—“Ah, me! - My babe’s blue eyes are fair to see; - And sweet his cooing love-notes be - That waken me too early!” - - Oh! would to God, beloved, to-day - That merry shout or gleeful play - Might drive your heavy sleep away, - And bid you waken early. - - But vain are all our prayers and cries; - From your low bed you will not rise; - No kisses falling on your eyes, - Can waken you right early. - - Bright are the skies above your bed, - And through the elm-boughs overhead - Are golden sunbeams softly shed, - That wake you late nor early. - - Beside you through these summer days - The murmuring fountain, as it plays, - Fills the soft air with diamond sprays, - But does not wake you early! - - We bring the flowers you loved so well, - The pure white rose and lily bell; - Their sweets break not this fearful spell; - They do not wake you early! - - We sing your songs; we pause to hear - Your bird-like voice rise full and clear; - Ah! dull and heavy is your ear; - We cannot wake you early. - - You will not wake? Then may your sleep, - If it be long, be calm and deep; - Thank God, the eyes forget to weep - That do not waken early! - - - BLEST - Dec. 1865 - - - Sinking to thine eternal rest, - O dying Year! I call thee blest; - Blest as no coming year may be - This side of vast Eternity! - - Thy cheek is pale, thy brow is worn; - Thine arms are weary, that have borne - The heaviest burdens ever laid - On any, since the world was made. - - But thou didst know her whom to-day - My fond heart mourns, and must alway; - She loved thee, claimed thee, called thee dear, - Hailing with joy the glad New Year! - - Thou didst behold her, fair and good, - The perfect flower of womanhood; - Simple and pure in thought and deed, - Yet strong in every hour of need. - - Ah! other years shall come and go, - Bidding the sweet June roses blow; - But never on their yearning eyes - Shall her fair presence once arise! - - The Spring shall miss her, and the long, - Bright Summer days hear not her song; - And hoary Winter, draped in snow, - Finding her not, shall haste to go! - - Therefore, Old Year, I call thee blest, - Thus sinking to eternal rest; - Blest as no other Year may be - This side of vast Eternity! - - -HELEN - - Dear Helen, if thine earnest eyes, - So deeply blue, so darkly bright, - Look downward from the azure skies - That hide thee from my yearning sight: - - Think not, because my days go on - Just as they did when thou wert here, - Sometimes in shade, sometimes in sun, - From month to month, from year to year, - - That I forget thee! Fresh and green - Over each grave the grass must grow - In God’s good time, and, all unseen, - The violets take deep root below. - - But yet the grave itself remains - Beneath the verdure and the bloom; - And all kind Nature’s loving pains - Can but conceal the enduring tomb. - - I work, I read, I sing, I smile, - I train my vines and tend my flowers; - But under thoughts of thee, the while, - Haunt me through all the passing hours. - - And still my heart cries out for thee, - As it must cry till life is past, - And in some land beyond the sea - I meet thy clasping hand at last! - - - - -“PRO PATRIA” - - -THE DEAD CENTURY - - -I. - - Lo! we come - Bearing the Century, cold and dumb! - Folded above the mighty breast - Lie the hands that have earned their rest; - Hushed are the grandly speaking lips; - Closed are the eyes in drear eclipse; - And the sculptured limbs are deathly still, - Responding not to the eager will, - As we come - Bearing the Century, cold and dumb! - - -II. - - Lo! we wait - Knocking here at the sepulchre’s gate! - Souls of the ages passed away, - A mightier joins your ranks to-day; - Open your doors and give him room, - Buried Centuries, in your tomb! - For calmly under this heavy pall - Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all, - While we wait - At the sepulchre’s awful gate! - - -III. - - Yet—pause here, - Bending low o’er the narrow bier! - Pause ye awhile and let your thought - Compass the work that he hath wrought; - Look on his brow so scarred and worn; - Think of the weight his hands have borne; - Think of the fetters he hath broken, - Of the mighty words _his_ lips have spoken - Who lies here - Dead and cold on a narrow bier! - - -IV. - - Ere he goes - Silent and calm to his grand repose— - While the Centuries in their tomb - Crowd together to give him room, - Let us think of the wondrous deeds - Answering still to the world’s great needs, - Answering still to the world’s wild prayer, - He hath been first to do and dare! - Ah! he goes - Crowned with bays to his last repose. - - -V. - - When the earth - Sang for joy to hail his birth, - Over the hill-tops, faint and far, - Glimmered the light of Freedom’s star. - Only a poor, pale torch it seemed— - Dimly from out the clouds it gleamed— - Oft to the watcher’s eye ’twas lost - Like a flame by fierce winds rudely tossed. - Scarce could Earth - Catch one ray when she hailed his birth! - - -VI. - - But erelong - His young voice, like a clarion strong, - Rang through the wilderness far and free, - Prophet and herald of good to be! - Then with a shout the stalwart men - Answered proudly from mount and glen, - Till in the brave, new, western world - Freedom’s banners were wide unfurled! - And ere long - The Century’s voice, like a clarion strong, - - -VII. - - Cried, “O Earth, - Pæans sing for a Nation’s birth! - Shout hosannas, ye golden stars, - Peering through yonder cloudy bars! - Burn, O Sun, with a clearer beam! - Shine, O Moon, with a softer gleam! - Join, ye winds, in the choral strain! - Swell, rolling seas, the glad refrain, - While the Earth - Pæans sings for a Nation’s birth!” - - -VIII. - - Ah! he saw— - This young prophet, with solemn awe— - How, after weary pain and sin, - Strivings without and foes within, - Fruitless prayings and long suspense, - And toil that bore no recompense— - After peril and blood and tears, - Honor and Peace should crown the years! - This he saw - While his heart thrilled with solemn awe. - - -IX. - - His clear eyes, - Gazing forward in glad surprise, - Saw how our land at last should be - Truly the home of the brave and free! - Saw from the old world’s crowded streets, - Pestilent cities, and close retreats, - Forms gaunt and pallid with famine sore - Flee in hot haste to our happy shore, - Their sad eyes - Widening ever in new surprise. - - -X. - - From all lands - Thronging they come in eager bands; - Each with the tongue his mother spoke; - Each with the songs her voice awoke; - Each with his dominant hopes and needs, - Alien habits and varying creeds. - Bringing strange fictions and fancies they came, - Calling old truths by a different name, - When the lands - Sent their sons hither in thronging bands. - - -XI. - - But the Seer— - This dead Century lying here— - Rising out of this chaos, saw - Peace and Order and Love and Law! - Saw by what subtle alchemy - Basest of metals at length should be - Transmuted into the shining gold, - Meet for a king to have and hold. - Ah! great Seer! - This pale Century lying here! - - -XII. - - So he taught - Honest freedom of speech and thought; - Taught that Truth is the grandest thing - Painter can paint, or poet sing; - Taught that under the meanest guise - It marches to deeds of high emprise; - Treading the paths the prophets trod - Up to the very mount of God! - Truth, he taught, - Claims full freedom of speech and thought. - - -XIII. - - Bearing long - Heavy burdens of hate and wrong, - Still has the arm of the Century been - Waging war against crime and sin. - Still has he plead humanity’s cause; - Still has he prayed for equal laws; - Still has he taught that the human race - Is one in despite of hue or place, - Even though long - It has wrestled with hate and wrong. - - -XIV. - - And at length— - A giant arising in his strength— - The fetters of serf and slave he broke, - Smiting them off by a single stroke! - Over the Muscovite’s waste of snows, - Up from the fields where the cotton grows, - Clearly the shout of deliverance rang, - When chattel and serf to manhood sprang, - As at length - The giant rose up in resistless strength. - - -XV. - - Far apart— - Each alone like a lonely heart— - Sat the Nations, until his hand - Wove about them a wondrous band; - Wrought about them a mighty chain - Binding the mountains to the main! - Distance and time rose dark between - Islands and continents still unseen, - While apart - None felt the throb of another’s heart. - - -XVI. - - But to-day - Time and space hath he swept away! - Side by side do the Nations sit - By ties of brotherhood closer knit; - Whispers float o’er the rolling deep; - Voices echo from steep to steep; - Nations speak, and the quick replies - Fill the earth and the vaulted skies; - For to-day - Time and distance are swept away. - - -XVII. - - If strange thrills - Quicken Rome on her seven hills; - If afar on her sultry throne - India wails and makes her moan; - If the eagles of haughty France - Fall as the Prussian hosts advance, - All the continents, all the lands, - Feel the shock through their claspèd hands. - And quick thrills - Stir the remotest vales and hills. - - -XVIII. - - Yet these eyes, - Dark on whose lids Death’s shadow lies, - Let their far-reaching vision rest - Not alone on the mountain’s crest; - Nor did these feet with stately tread - Follow alone where the Nations led; - Nor these pale hands, so weary-worn, - Minister but where States were born!— - These clear eyes, - Soft on whose lips Death’s slumber lies, - - -XIX. - - Turned their gaze, - Earnest and pitiful, on the ways - Where the poor, burdened sons of toil - Earned their bread amid dust and moil. - Saw the dim attics where, day by day, - Women were stitching their lives away, - Bending low o’er the slender steel - Till heart and brain began to reel, - And their days - Stretched on and on in a dreary maze. - - -XX. - - Then he spoke; - Lo! at once into being woke - Muscles of iron, arms of steel, - Nerves that never a thrill could feel! - Wheels and pulleys and whirling bands - Did the work of the weary hands, - And tireless feet moved to and fro - Where the aching limbs were wont to go, - When he spoke - And all his sprites into being woke. - - -XXI. - - Do you say - He was no saint who has passed away? - Saint or sinner, he did brave deeds - Answering still to humanity’s needs! - Songs he hath sung that shall live for aye; - Words he hath uttered that ne’er shall die; - Richer the world than when the earth - Sang for joy to hail his birth, - Even though you say - He was no saint whom we sing to-day. - - -XXII. - - Lo! we wait - Knocking here at the sepulchre’s gate! - Souls of the Ages passed away, - A mightier joins your ranks to-day; - Open your doors, ye royal dead, - And welcome give to this crownèd head! - For calmly under this sable pall - Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all, - While we wait - At the sepulchre’s awful gate! - - -XXIII. - - Give him room - Proudly, Centuries! in your tomb. - Now that his weary work is done, - Honor and rest he well hath won. - Let him who is first among you pay - Homage to him who comes this day, - Bidding him pass to his destined place, - Noblest of all his noble race! - Make ye room - For the kingly dead in the silent tomb! - - - THE RIVER OTTER - A FRAGMENT - - A hundred times the Summer’s fragrant blooms - Have laden all the air with sweet perfumes; - A hundred times, along the mountain-side, - Autumn has flung his crimson banners wide; - A hundred times has kindly Winter spread - His snowy mantle o’er the violet’s bed; - A hundred times has Earth rejoiced to hear - The Spring’s light footsteps in the forest sere, - Since on yon grassy knoll the quick, sharp stroke - Of the young woodman’s axe the silence broke. - Not then did these encircling hills look down - On quaint old farmhouse, or on steepled town. - No church-spires pointed to the arching skies; - No wandering lovers saw the moon arise; - No childish laughter mingled with the song - Of the fair Otter, as it flowed along - As brightly then as now. Ah! little recked - The joyous river, when the sunshine flecked - Its dancing waters, that no human eye - Gave it glad welcome as it frolicked by! - The long, uncounted years had come and flown, - And it had still swept on, unseen, unknown, - Biding its time. No minstrel sang its praise, - No poet named it in immortal lays. - It played no part in legendary lore, - And young Romance knew not its winding shore. - But in her own loveliness Nature is glad, - And little she cares for man’s smile or his frown; - In the robes of her royalty still she is clad, - Though his eye may behold not her sceptre or crown! - And over our beautiful Otter the trees - Swayed lightly as now in the frolicsome breeze; - And the tremulous violet lifted an eye - As blue as its own to the laughing blue sky. - The harebell trembled on its stem - Down where the rushing waters gleam, - A sapphire on the broidered hem - Of some fair Naiad of the stream. - The buttercups, bright-eyed and bold, - Held up their chalices of gold - To catch the sunshine and the dew, - Gayly as those that bloom for you. - And deep within the forest shade, - Where broadest noon mere twilight made, - Ten thousand small, sweet censers swung, - And tiny bells by zephyrs rung, - Made tinkling music till the day - In solemn splendor died away. - The woods were full of praise and prayer, - Although no human tongue was there; - For every pine and hemlock sung - The grand cathedral aisles among, - And every flower that gemmed the sod - Looked up and whispered, “Thou art God.” - The birds sung as they sing to-day, - A song of love and joy alway. - The brown thrush from its golden throat - Poured out its long, melodious note; - The pigeons cooed; the veery threw - Its mellow thrill from spray to spray; - The wild night-hawk its trumpet blew, - And the owl cried, “Tu whit, tu whoo,” - From set of sun to break of day. - The partridge reared her fearless brood - Safe in the darkling solitude, - And the bald eagle built its nest - High on the tall cliff’s craggy crest. - And often, when the still moonlight - Made all the lonely valley bright, - Down from the hills its thirst to slake, - The deer trod softly through the brake; - While far away the spotted fawn - Waited the coming of the dawn, - And trembled when the panther’s scream - Startled it from a troubled dream. - The black bear roamed the forest wide; - The fierce wolf tracked the mountain-side; - The wild-cat’s silent, stealthy tread - Was, even there, a fear and dread; - The red fox barked—a strange, weird sound, - That woke the slumbering echoes round; - And the burrowing mink and otter hid - In their holes the tangled roots amid. - Lords of their limitless domain, - Of hill and dale, of mount and plain, - The wild things dreamed not of the hour - When they should own their Master’s power! - - - PAST AND PRESENT - (DRIFTWOOD) - - . . . Grand, heroic, true, - Faithful and brave thine earnest work to do, - O glorious present! we rejoice in thee, - Thou noble nurse of great deeds yet to be! - Hast thou not shown us that our mother Earth - Still, in exultant joy, gives heroes birth? - Do not the old romances that our youth, - Revered and honored as the truest truth, - Grow pale and dim before the facts sublime - Thy pen has written on the scroll of Time? - Ah! never yet did poet’s tongue, - Though like a silver bell it rung; - Or minstrel, o’er his sounding lyre - Breathing the old, prophetic fire; - Or harper, in the storied walls - Of Scotia’s proud, baronial halls— - Where mail-clad men with sword and spear - Waited entranced the song to hear, - That through the stormy midnight hour - Fast held them in its spell of power— - Ah! never yet did they rehearse, - In flowing rhyme or stately verse, - The praise of deeds more nobly done, - Or tell of fields more grandly won! - We laud thee, we praise thee, we bless thee to-day! - At thy feet, lowly bending, glad homage we pay! - Thou hast taught us that men are as brave as of yore; - That the day of great deeds and great thought is not o’er; - That the courage undaunted, the far-reaching faith, - The strength that unshaken looks calmly on death, - The self-abnegation that hastens to lay - Its all on the altar, have not passed away. - Thou hast taught us that “country” is more than a name; - That honor unsullied is better than fame; - Thou hast proved that while man can still battle for truth, - Even boyhood can give up the promise of youth, - And, yielding its life with a smile and a sigh, - Say, “’Tis sweet for my God and my country to die.” - O heart-searching Present, thy sons have gone down - To the night of the grave in their day of renown! - Thy daughters have watched by the hearth-stone in vain - For the loved and the lost that returned not again. - No Spartans were they—yet with tears falling fast, - Their faith and their patience endured to the last; - And God gave them strength to their dearest to say, - “Go ye forth to the fight, while we labor and pray!” - Thou hast opened thy coffers on land and on sea, - And broad-handed Charity, noble and free, - Has lavished thy bounties on friend and on foe, - Like the rain that, descending, falls softly and slow - On the just and the unjust, and never may know - The one from the other. When thy story is told - By some age that looks backward and calls thee “the old,” - It shall puzzle its sages, all great as thou art, - To tell which was greatest, thy head or thy heart! - Mighty words thy lips have spoken— - Strongest fetters thou hast broken— - And in tones like those of thunder, - When the clouds are rent asunder, - Thou hast made the Nations hear thee— - Thou hast bade the Tyrants fear thee— - And our hearts to-day proclaim thee, - As they oft have done before, - Fit to lead the glorious legions - Of the glorious days of yore! - Yet still, we pray thee, veil awhile - Thy splendor from our dazzled eyes - And hide the glory of thy smile, - Lest our souls wake to new surprise! - Bear with us while our feet to-day - Retrace a dim and shadowy way, - In search of what, it well may be, - Shall help to make us worthier thee! - - * * * * * - - And now, O, spirit of the Past, draw near, - And let us feel thy blessed presence here! - With reverent hearts and voices hushed and low, - We wait to hear thy garments’ rustling flow! - From all the conflicts of our busy life, - From all its bitter and enduring strife, - Its eager yearnings and its wild turmoil, - Its cares, its joys, its sorrows and its toil, - Its aspirations, that too often seem - Like the remembered phantoms of a dream, - We turn aside. This hour is thine alone, - And none shall share the grandeur of thy throne. - Ah! thou art here! Beneath these whispering trees - Thy breath floats softly on the passing breeze; - We feel the presence that we cannot see, - And every moment draws us nearer thee. - Could we but see thee with thy solemn eyes, - In whose rare depths such wondrous meaning lies— - Thy dark robes sweeping this enchanted ground— - Thy midnight hair with purple pansies crowned— - Thy lip so sadly sweet, thy brow serene! - There is no expectation in thy mien, - For thou hast done with dreams. Nor joy nor pain - Can e’er disturb thy placid calm again. - What is this veil that hides thee from our sight? - Breathe it away, thou spirit darkly bright! - It may not be! Our eyes are dim, - Perhaps with age, perhaps with tears; - We hear no more the choral hymn - The angels sing among the spheres. - Weary and worn and tempest-tossed, - Much have we gained—and something lost— - Since in the sunbeams golden glow, - The rippling river’s silvery flow, - The song of bird or murmuring bee, - The fragrant flower, the stately tree, - The royal pomp of sunset skies, - And all earth’s varied harmonies, - We saw and heard what nevermore - Can Earth or Heaven to us restore, - And felt a child’s unquestioning faith - In childhood’s mystic lore! - - * * * * * - - Yet could our voices reach the slumbering dead - Who rest so calmly in yon grass-grown bed, - This truth would seem with greatest wonder fraught— - _That they are heroes to our eyes and thought_. - For they were men who never dreamed of fame: - They did not toil to make themselves a name; - They little fancied that when years had passed, - And the long century had died at last, - Another age should make their graves a shrine, - And humble chaplets for their memory twine. - They simply strove, as other men may strive, - Full, earnest lives in sober strength to live; - They did the duty nearest to their hand; - Subdued wild nature as at God’s command; - Laid the broad acres open to the sun, - And made fair homes in forests dark and dun; - Built churches, founded schools, established laws, - Kindly and just and true to freedom’s cause; - Resisted wrong, and with stout hands and hearts, - In war, as well as peace, played well their parts. - Their men were brave; their women pure and true; - Their sons ashamed no honest work to do; - And while they dreamed no dreams of being great, - They did great deeds, and conquered hostile Fate. - We laud them, we praise them, we bless them to-day; - At their graves, as their right, tearful homage we pay! - And the laurel-crowned Present comes humbly at last, - And bends by our side at the shrine of the Past. - With the hands that such burdens unshrinking have borne, - From the brow weary cares have so furrowed and worn, - She takes off the chaplet, and lays it with tears, - That she cares not to hide, at the feet of the Years. - Hark! a breath of faint music, a murmur of song! - A form of strange beauty is floating along - On the soft summer air, and the Future draws near, - With a light on her young face, unshadowed and clear. - Two garlands she bears in the arms that not yet - Have toiled ’neath the burden and heat of the day; - Lo! both are of amaranth, fragrant and wet - With the dew of remembrance, and fadeless alway. - Oh! well may we hush our vain babblings—and wait! - He who merits the crown, wears it sooner or late! - On the brow of the Present, the grave of the Past, - The wreaths they have earned shall rest surely at last! - - -VERMONT - -(WRITTEN FOR THE VERMONT CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION, AT BENNINGTON, -AUGUST 15, 1877.) - - -I. - - O woman-form, majestic, strong and fair, - Sitting enthroned where in upper air - Thy mountain-peaks in solemn grandeur rise, - Piercing the splendor of the summer skies— - Vermont! Our mighty mother, crowned to-day - In all the glory of thy hundred years, - If thou dost bid me sing, how can I but obey? - What though the lips may tremble, and the verse - That fain would grandly thy grand deeds rehearse - May trip and falter, and the stammering tongue - Leave all unrhymed the rhymes that should be sung? - I can but do thy bidding, as is meet, - Bowing in humble homage at thy feet— - Thy royal feet—and if my words are weak, - O crownèd One, ’twas thou didst bid me speak! - - -II. - - Yet what is there to say, - Even on this proud day, - This day of days, that hath not oft been said? - What song is there to sing - That hath not oft been sung? - What laurel can we bring - That ages have not hung - A thousand times above their glorious dead? - What crown to crown the living - Is left us for our giving, - That is not shaped to other brows - That wore it long ago? - Our very vows but echo vows - Breathed centuries ago! - Earth has no choral strain, - No sweet or sad refrain, - No lofty pæan swelling loud and clear, - That Virgil did not know, - Or Danté, wandering slow - In mystic trances, did not pause to hear! - When gods from high Olympus came - To touch old Homer’s lips with flame, - The morning stars together sung - To teach their raptures to his tongue. - For him the lonely ocean moaned; - For him the mighty winds intoned - Their deep-voiced chantings, and for him - Sweet flower-bells pealed in forests dim. - From earth and sea and sky he caught - The spell of their divinest thought, - While yet it blossomed fresh and new - As Eden’s rosebuds wet with dew! - Oh! to have lived when earth was young, - With all its melodies unsung! - The dome of heaven bent nearer then - When gods and angels talked with men— - When Song itself was newly born, - The Incarnation of the Morn! - But now, alas! all thought is old, - All life is but a story told, - And poet-tongues are manifold; - And he is bold who tries to wake, - Even for God or Country’s sake, - In voice, or pen, or lute, or lyre, - Sparks of the old Promethean fire! - - -III. - - And yet—O Earth, thank God!—the soul of song - Is as immortal as the eternal stars! - O trembling heart! take courage and be strong. - Hark! to a voice from yonder crystal bars: - - _“Did the roses blow last June? - Do the stars still rise and set? - And over the crests of the mountains - Are the light clouds floating yet? - Do the rivers run to the sea - With a deep, resistless flow? - Do the little birds sing north and south - As the seasons come and go?_ - - _Are the hills as fair as of old? - Are the skies as blue and far? - Have you lost the pomp of the sunset, - Or the light of the evening star? - Has the glory gone from the morning? - Do the wild winds wail no more? - Is there now no thunder of billows - Beating the storm-lashed shore?_ - - _Is Love a forgotten story? - Is Passion a jester’s theme? - Has Valor thrown down its armor? - Is Honor an idle dream? - Is there no pure trust in woman? - No conquering faith in God? - Are there no feet strong to follow - In the paths the martyrs trod?_ - - _Did you find no hero graves - When your violets bloomed last May— - Prouder than those of Marathon, - Or ‘old Platea’s day’? - When your red and white and blue - On the free winds fluttered out, - Were there no strong hearts and voices - To receive it with a shout? - Oh! let the Earth grow old! - And the burning stars grow cold! - And, if you will, declare man’s story told! - Yet, pure as faith is pure, - And sure as death is sure, - As long as love shall live, shall song endure!_” - - -IV. - - When, one by one, the stately, silent Years - Glide like pale ghosts beyond our yearning sight, - Vainly we stretch our arms to stay their flight, - So soon, so swift they pass to endless night! - We hardly learn to name them, - To praise them or to blame them, - To know their shadowy faces, - Ere we see their empty places! - Only once the glad Spring greets them; - Only once fair Summer meets them; - Only once the Autumn glory - Tells for them its mystic story; - Only once the Winter hoary - Weaves for them its robes of light! - Years leave their work half-done; like men, alas! - With sheaves ungathered to their graves they pass, - And are forgotten. What they strive to do - Lives for a while in memory of a few; - Then over all Oblivion’s waters flow— - The Years are buried in the long ago! - But when a Century dies, what room is there for tears? - Rather in solemn exaltation let us come, - With roll of drum - (Not muffled as in woe), - With blare of bugles, and the liquid flow - Of silver clarions, and the long appeal - Of the clear trumpets ringing peal on peal; - With clash of bells, and hosts in proud array, - To pay meet homage to its burial day! - For its proud work is done. Its name is writ - Where all the ages that come after it - Shall read the eternal letters, blazoned high - On the blue dome of the impartial sky. - What ruthless fate can darken its renown, - Or dim the lustre of its starry crown? - On mountain-peaks of Time each Century stands alone; - And each, for glory or for shame, hath reaped what it hath sown! - - -V. - - But this—the one that gave thee birth - A hundred years ago, O beauteous mother! - This mighty Century had a mightier brother, - Who from the watching earth - Passed but last year! Twin-born indeed were they— - For what are twelve months to the womb of time - Pregnant with ages?—Hand in hand they climbed - With clear, young eyes uplifted to the stars; - With great, strong souls that never stopped for bars, - Through storm and darkness up to glorious day! - Each knew the other’s need; each in his breast - The subtle tie of closest kin confessed; - Counted the other’s honor as his own; - Nor feared to sit upon a separate throne; - Nor loved each other less when—wondrous fate!— - One gave a Nation life, and one a State! - - -VI. - - Oh! rude the cradle in which each was rocked, - The infant Nation, and the infant State! - Rough nurses were the Centuries, that mocked - At mother-kisses, and for mother-arms - Gave their young nurslings sudden harsh alarms, - Quick blows and stern rebuffs. They bade them wait, - Often in cold and hunger, while the feast - Was spread for others, and, though last not least, - Gave them sharp swords for playthings, and the din - Of actual battle for the mimic strife - That childhood glories in! - Yet not the less they loved them. Spartans they, - Who could not rear a weak, effeminate brood. - Better the forest’s awful solitude, - Better the desert spaces, where the day - Wanders from dawn to dusk and finds no life! - - -VII. - - But over all the tireless years swept on, - Till side by side the Centuries grew old, - And the young Nation, great and strong and bold, - Forgot its early struggles, in triumphs later won! - It stretched its arms from East to West; - It gathered to its mighty breast - From every clime, from every soil, - The hunted sons of want and toil; - It gave to each a dwelling-place; - It blent them in one common race; - And over all, from sea to sea, - Wide flew the banner of the free! - It did not fear the wrath of kings, - Nor the dread grip of deadlier things— - Gaunt Famine with its ghastly horde, - Dishonor sheathing its foul sword, - Nor faithless friend, nor treacherous blow - Struck in the dark by stealthy foe; - For over all its wide domain, - From shore to shore, from main to main, - From vale to mountain-top, it saw - The reign of plenty, peace, and law! - - -VIII. - - Thus fared the Nation, prosperous, great, and free, - Prophet and herald of the good to be; - And on its humbler way, in calm content, - The lesser State, the while, serenely went. - Safe in her mountain fastnesses she dwelt, - Her life’s first cares forgot, its woes unfelt, - And thought her bitterest tears had all been shed, - For peace was in her borders, and God reigned overhead. - - -IX. - - But suddenly over the hills there came - A cry that rent her with grief and shame— - A cry from the Nation in sore distress, - Stricken down in the pride of its mightiness! - With passionate ardor up she sprang, - And her voice like the peal of a trumpet rang— - “What ho! what ho! brave sons of mine, - Strong with the strength of the mountain pine! - To the front of the battle, away! away! - The Nation is bleeding in deadly fray, - The Nation, it may be, is dying to-day! - On, then, to the rescue! away! away!” - - -X. - - Ah! how they answered let the ages tell, - For they shall guard the sacred story well! - Green grows the grass to-day on many a battle-field; - War’s dread alarms are o’er; its scars are healed; - Its bitter agony has found surcease; - A re-united land clasps hands in peace. - But, oh! ye blessed dead, whose graves are strown - From where our forests make perpetual moan, - To those far shores where smiling Southern seas - Give back soft murmurs to the fragrant breeze— - Oh! ye who drained for us the bitter cup, - Think ye we can forget what ye have offered up? - The years will come and go, and other centuries die, - And generation after generation lie - Down in the dust; but, long as stars shall shine, - Long as Vermont’s green hills shall bear the pine, - As long as Killington shall proudly lift - Its lofty peak above the storm-cloud’s rift, - Or Mansfield hail the blue, o’erarching skies, - Or fair Mount Anthony in grandeur rise, - So long shall live the deeds that ye have done, - So deathless be the glory ye have won! - - -XI. - - Not with exultant joy - And pride without alloy, - Did the twin Centuries rejoice when all was o’er. - What though the Nation rose - Triumphant o’er its foes? - What though the State had gained - The meed of faith unstained? - Their mighty hearts remembered the dead that came no more! - Remembered all the losses, - The weary, weary crosses, - Remembered earth was poorer for the blood that had been shed, - And knew that it was sadder for the story it had read! - So, clasping hands with somewhat saddened mien, - And eyes uplifted to the Great Unseen - That rules alike o’er Centuries and men, - Onward they walked serenely toward—the End! - - -XII. - - One reached it last year. Ye remember well— - The wondrous tale there is no need to tell— - How the whole world bowed down beside its bier; - How all the Nations came, from far or near, - Heaping their treasures on its mighty pall— - Never had kingliest king such funeral! - Old Asia rose, and, girding her in haste, - Swept in her jewelled robes across the waste, - And called to Egypt lying prone and hid - Where waits the Sphinx beside the pyramid; - Fair Europe came with overflowing hands, - Bearing the riches of her many lands; - Dark Afric, laden with her virgin gold, - Yet laden deeper with her woes untold; - Japan and China in grotesque array, - And all the enchanted islands of Cathay! - - -XIII. - - To-day the other dies. - It walked in humbler guise, - Nor stood where all men’s eyes - Were fixed upon it. - Earth may not pause to lay - A wreath upon its bier, - Nor the world heed to-day - Our dead that lieth here! - - Yet well they loved each other— - It and its greater brother. - To loftiest stature grown, - Each earned its own renown; - Each sought of Time a crown, - And each has won it; - - -XIV. - - But what to us are Centuries dead, - And rolling Years forever fled, - Compared with thee, O grand and fair - Vermont—our Goddess-mother? - Strong with the strength of thy verdant hills, - Fresh with the freshness of mountain-rills, - Pure as the breath of the fragrant pine, - Glad with the gladness of youth divine, - Serenely thou sittest throned to-day - Where the free winds that round thee play - Rejoice in thy waves of sun-bright hair, - O thou, our glorious mother! - Rejoice in thy beautiful strength and say - Earth holds not such another! - Thou art not old with thy hundred years, - Nor worn with toil, or care, or tears: - But all the glow of the summer-time - Is thine to-day in thy glorious prime! - Thy brow is fair as the winter-snows, - With a stately calm in its still repose; - While the breath of the rose the wild bee sips, - Half-mad with joy, cannot eclipse - The marvellous sweetness of thy lips; - And the deepest blue of the laughing skies - Hides in the depths of thy fearless eyes, - Gazing afar over land and sea - Wherever thy wandering children be! - Fold on fold, - Over thy form of grandest mould - Floweth thy robe of forest green, - Now light, now dark, in its emerald sheen. - Its broidered hem is of wild flowers rare, - With feathery fern-fronds light as air - Fringing its borders. In thy hair - Sprays of the pink arbutus twine, - And the curling rings of the wild grape vine. - Thy girdle is woven of silver streams; - Its clasp with the opaline lustre gleams - Of a lake asleep in the sunset beams; - And, half concealing - And half revealing, - Floats over all a veil of mist - Pale-tinted with rose and amethyst! - - -XV. - - Arise, O noble mother of great sons, - Worthy to rank among earth’s mightiest ones, - And daughters fair and beautiful and good, - Yet wise and strong in loftiest womanhood— - Rise from thy throne, and, standing far and high - Outlined against the blue, adoring sky, - Lift up thy voice, and stretch thy loving hands - In benediction o’er the waiting lands! - Take thou our fealty! at thy feet we bow, - Glad to renew each oft-repeated vow! - No costly gifts we bring to thee to-day; - No votive wreaths upon thy shrine we lay; - Take thou our hearts, then!—hearts that fain would be - From this day forth, O goddess, worthier thee! - - - GETTYSBURG - 1863-1889 - - -I. - - Brothers, is this the spot? - Let the drums cease to beat; - Let the tread of marching feet, - With the clash and clang of steel - And the trumpet’s long appeal - (Cry of joy and sob of pain - In its passionate refrain) - Cease awhile, - Nor beguile - Thoughts that would rehearse the story - Of the past’s remembered glory; - Thoughts that would revive to-day - Stern War’s rude, imperious sway; - Waken battle’s fiery glow - With its ardor and its woe, - With its wild, exulting thrills, - With the rush of mighty wills, - And the strength to do and dare— - Born of passion and of prayer! - - -II. - - Let the present fade away, - And the splendors of to-day; - For our hearts within us burn - As our glances backward turn. - What rare memories awaken - As the tree of life is shaken, - And its storied branches blow - In the winds of long ago! - Do ye not remember, brothers, - Ere the war-days how ’twas said - Grand, heroic days were over - And proud chivalry was dead? - Still we saw the glittering lances - Gleaming through the old romances, - Still beheld the watch-fires burning - On the cloudy heights of Time; - And from fields that they had won, - When the stormy fight was done, - Saw victorious knights returning - Flushed with triumph’s joy sublime! - For the light of song and story - Kindled with supernal glory - Plains where ancient heroes fought; - And illumined, with a splendor - Rare and magical and tender, - All the mighty deeds they wrought. - But we thought the sword of battle, - Long unused, had lost its glow, - And the sullen war-gods slumbered - Where their altar-fires burned low! - - -III. - - _Was_ the nation dull and sodden, - Buried in material things? - ’Twas the chrysalis, awaiting - The sure stirring of its wings! - For when rang the thrilling war-cry - Over all the startled land, - And the fiery cross of battle, - Flaming, sped from hand to hand, - Then how fared it, O my brothers? - Were men false or craven then? - Did they falter? - Did they palter? - Did they question why or when? - Oh, the story shall be told - Until earth itself is old, - How, from mountain and from glen, - More than thrice ten thousand men - Heard the challenge of the foe, - Heard the nation’s cry of woe, - Heard the summoning to arms, - And the battle’s loud alarms! - In tumultuous surprise, - Lo, their answer rent the skies; - And its quick and strong heart-thrills - Rocked the everlasting hills! - Forth from blossoming fields they sped - To the fields with carnage red! - Left the plowshare standing still; - Left the bench, the forge, the mill; - Left the quiet walks of trade - And the quarry’s marble shade; - Left the pulpit and the court, - Careless ease and idle sport; - Left the student’s cloistered halls - In the old, gray college walls; - Left young love-dreams, dear and sweet, - War’s stern front, unblenched, to meet! - Oh, the strange and sad amaze - Of those unforgotten days, - When the boys whom we had guided, - Nursed and loved, caressed and chided, - Suddenly, as in a night, - Sprang to manhood’s proudest height; - And with calmly smiling lips, - As who life’s rarest goblet sips, - Dauntless, with unhurried breath, - Marched to danger and to death! - - -IV. - - Soldiers, is this the spot? - Fair the scene is, calm and fair, - In this still October air; - Far blue hills look gently down - On the happy, tranquil town, - And the ridges nearer by - Steeped in autumn sunshine lie. - Laden orchards, smiling fields, - Rich in all that nature yields; - Bright streams winding in and out - Fertile meadows round about, - Lowing herds and hum of bee, - Birds that flit from tree to tree, - Children’s voices ringing clear, - All we touch or see or hear— - Fruit of gold in silver set— - Tell of joy and peace. And yet— - Soldiers, is this the spot - That can never be forgot? - Was it here that shot and shell - Poured as from the mouth of hell, - Drenched the shrinking, trembling plain - With a flood of fiery rain? - Was it here the awful wonder - Of the cannon’s crashing thunder - Shook the affrighted hills, and made - Even the stolid rocks afraid? - Was it here an armèd host, - Like two clouds where lightnings play, - Or two oceans, tempest tost, - Clashed and mingled in the fray? - Here that, ’mid the din and smoke, - Roar of guns and sabre stroke, - Tramp of furious steeds, where moan - Horse and rider, both o’erthrown, - Lurid fires and battle yell, - Forty thousand brave men fell? - - -V. - - O brothers, words are weak! - What tongue shall dare to speak? - Even song itself grows dumb - In this high presence.—Come - Forth, ye whose ashes lie - Under this arching sky! - Speak ye in accents clear - Words that we fain would hear! - Tell us when your dim eyes, - Holy with sacrifice, - Looked through the battle smoke - Up to the skies; - Tell us, ye valiant dead, - When your souls starward fled, - How from the portals far - Where the immortals are, - Chieftains and vikings old, - Heroes and warriors bold, - Men whom old Homer sung, - Men of each age and tongue, - Knights from a thousand fields - Bearing their blazoned shields - Thronged forth to meet ye! - Tell us how, floating down, - Each with a martyr’s crown, - They who had kept the faith, - Grandly defying death; - They who for conscience’ sake - Felt their firm heartstrings break; - They who for truth and right - Unshrinking fought the fight; - They who through fire and flame - Passed on to deathless fame, - Hastened to greet ye! - Tell how they welcomed ye, - Hailed and applauded ye, - Claimed ye as comrades true, - Brave as the world e’er knew; - Led your triumphant feet - Up to the highest seat, - Crowned ye with amaranth, - Laurel and palm. - - -VI. - - Alas, alas! They speak not! - The silence deep they break not! - Heaven keeps its martyred ones - Beyond or moon or suns; - And Valhalla keeps its braves, - Leaving to us their graves! - Then let these graves speak for them - As long as the wind sweeps o’er them! - As long as the sentinel ridges - Keep guard on either hand; - As long as the hills they fought for - Like silent watch-towers stand! - - -VII. - - Yet not of them alone - Round each memorial stone - Shall the proud breezes whisper as they pass, - Rustling the faded leaves - On chilly autumn eves, - And swaying tenderly the sheltering grass! - O ye who on this field - Knew not the joy to yield - Your young, glad lives in glorious conflict up; - Ye who as bravely fought, - Ye who as grandly wrought, - Draining with them war’s darkly bitter cup, - As long as stars endure - And God and Truth are sure; - While Love still claims its own, - While Honor holds its throne - And Valor hath a name, - Still shall these stony pages - Repeat to all the ages - The story of your fame! - - -VIII. - - O beautiful one, my Country, - Thou fairest daughter of Time, - To-day are thine eyes unclouded - In the light of a faith sublime! - No thunder of battle appals thee; - From thy woe thou hast found release; - From the graves of thy sons steals only - This one soft whisper,—“PEACE!” - - -“NO MORE THE THUNDER OF CANNON” - - No more the thunder of cannon, - No more the clashing of swords, - No more the rage of the contest, - Nor the rush of contending hordes; - But, instead, the glad reunion, - The clasping of friendly hands, - The song, for the shout of battle, - Heard over the waiting lands. - - O brothers, to-night we greet you - With smiles, half sad, half gay— - For our thoughts are flying backward - To the years so far away— - When with you who were part of the conflict, - With us who remember it all, - Youth marched with his waving banner, - And his voice like a bugle call! - - We would not turn back the dial, - Nor live over the past again; - We would not the path re-travel, - Nor barter the “now” for the “then.” - Yet, oh, for the bounding pulses, - And the strength to do and dare, - When life was one grand endeavor, - And work clasped hands with prayer! - - But blessed are ye, O brothers, - Who feel in your souls alway - The thrill of the stirring summons - You heard but to obey; - Who, whether the years go swift, - Or whether the years go slow, - Will wear in your hearts forever - The glory of long ago! - - - GRANT - AUGUST 8, 1885 - - - God sends his angels where he will, - From world to world, from star to star; - They do his bidding as they fly, - Whether or near or far! - - Whither it went, or what its quest, - I know not; but one August day - A great white angel through the far - Dim spaces took its way; - - Until below it our fair earth, - Like a rich jewel fitly hung— - An emerald set with silver gleams— - In the blue ether swung. - - The angel looked; the angel paused; - Then down the starry pathway swept, - Till mount and valley, hill and plain, - Beneath its vision slept. - - Poised on a far blue mountain peak, - It saw the land, from sea to sea, - Lifting in veilèd splendor up - The banner of the free! - - From tower and turret, spire and dome, - From stately halls, and cabins rude, - Where crag and cliff and forest meet - In awful solitude, - - It saw strange, sombre pennants float, - Black shadows on the summer breeze - That bore, from shore to shore, the wail - Of solemn symphonies. - - It saw long files of armèd men, - Clad in a garb of faded blue, - Pass up and down the sorrowing land - As if in grand review. - - It saw through crowded city streets, - Funereal trains move to and fro, - With tolling bells, and muffled drums, - And trumpets wailing low. - - Descending then the angel sought - A stern, sad man of many cares— - Ah, oft before have mortals talked - With angels, unawares! - - The angel spake, as man to man— - “What does it mean, O friend?” it cried, - “These sad-browed hosts, these weeds of woe, - This mourning far and wide?” - - The stranger answered in amaze— - “Know you not what the whole world knows? - To his long home, thus grandly borne, - Earth’s greatest warrior goes. - - The foremost soldier of his age, - The victor on full many a field— - Who saw the bravest of the brave - To his stern prowess yield.” - - The angel sighed. “That means,” it said, - “Tumult and anguish, pain and death, - And countless sons of men borne down - By the fierce cannon’s breath!” - - Then passed from sight the heavenly guest, - And from the mountain-top again - Took its far flight from North to South, - Above the homes of men. - - But still, where’er it went, it saw - The starry banners half mast high, - And tower and turret hung with black - Against the reddening sky! - - Still saw long ranks of armèd men - Who for the blue had worn the gray— - Still saw the sad processions pass, - Darkening the summer day! - - “Was this _their_ conqueror whom you mourn?” - The angel said to one who kept - Lone watch where, deep in grass-grown graves, - Young Southern soldiers slept. - - “Victor, yet friend,” the answer came, - “Even theirs who here their life-blood poured! - He, when the bitter field was won, - Was first to sheathe the sword, - - And cry: ‘O brothers, take my hand— - Brave foemen, let us be at peace! - O’er all the undivided land - Let clash of conflict cease!’” - - The wondering angel went its way - From world to world, from star to star, - Where planet unto planet turned, - And suns blazed out afar. - - “Learn, learn, O universe,” it cried, - “How great is he whose foemen lay - Their love and homage at his feet, - On this—his burial day!” - - - - -FRIAR ANSELMO AND OTHER POEMS - - -FRIAR ANSELMO - - FRIAR ANSELMO for a secret sin - Sat bowed with grief the convent cell within; - Nor dared, such was his shame, to lift his eyes - To the low wall whereon, in dreadful guise, - The dead CHRIST hung upon the cursèd tree, - Frowning, he thought, upon his misery. - What was his sin it matters not to tell. - But he was young and strong, the records say: - Perhaps he wearied of his narrow cell; - Perhaps he longed to work, as well as pray; - Perhaps his heart too warmly beat that day! - Perhaps—for life is long—the weary road - That he must travel, bearing as a load - The slow, monotonous hours that, one by one, - Dragged in a lengthening chain from sun to sun, - Appalled his eager spirit, and his vow - Pressed like an iron hand upon his brow. - Perhaps some dream of love, of home, of wife, - Had stirred this tumult in his lonely life, - Tempting his soul to barter heavenly bliss, - And sell its birthright for a woman’s kiss! - At all events, the struggle had been hard; - And as a bird from the glad ether barred, - So had he beat his wings till, bruised and torn, - He wished that night he never had been born! - And still the dead CHRIST on the cursèd tree - Seemed but to mock his hopeless misery; - Still Mary mother turned her eyes away, - Nor saint nor angel bent to hear him pray! - - The calm, cold moonlight through the casement shone; - Weird shadows darkened on the floor of stone; - Without, what solemn splendors! and within - What fearful wrestlings with despair and sin! - Sudden and loud the cloister bell outrang; - Afar a door swung to with sullen clang; - And overhead he heard the rhythmic beat, - The measured monotone of many feet - Seeking the chapel for the midnight prayer. - Black wings seemed hovering round him in the air, - Beating him back when with a stifled moan - He would have sought the holy altar stone. - Then with a swift, sharp cry, prostrate he fell - Before the crucifix. “The gates of hell - Shall not prevail against me!” loud he cried, - Stretching his arms to CHRIST, the crucified. - “By Thy dread cross, Thy dying agony, - Thine awful passion, LORD, deliver me!” - - Was it a dream? The taunting demons fled; - Through the dim cell a wondrous glory spread; - And all the air was filled with rare perfumes - Wafted from censers rich with heavenly blooms. - Transfigured stood the CHRIST before his eyes, - Clothed in white samite, woven in Paradise, - And from the empty cross upon the wall - Streamed a wide splendor that encompassed all! - Was it a dream? Anselmo’s sight grew dim; - The cloistered chamber seemed to reel and swim; - Yet well his spirit knew the glorious guest, - And all his manhood rose to meet the test. - “What wilt Thou have me, LORD, to do?” he cried - With pallid lips, and kissed the sacred feet. - And then in accents strangely calm, yet sweet, - These words he heard from CHRIST, the crucified, - The pitying CHRIST his inmost soul who read, - With all its wild unrest, its doubt and dread: - “MAKE THOU A COPY OF MY HOLY WORD!” - Then mystic presences about him stirred; - The vision faded. At the dawn of day - Prostrate and pallid in the dusk he lay. - Was it a dream? GOD knows! The narrow cell - Wore the old aspect he had learned so well, - And from the crucifix upon the wall - No glory streamed illuminating all! - Yet still a subtile fragrance filled the room; - And looking round him in the soft, gray gloom, - Anselmo saw upon the fretted floor - An eagle’s quill that this grave legend bore: - “He works most nobly for his fellow-men - Who gives My word to them, by tongue or pen!” - - Henceforth Anselmo prayed, but worked as well, - Nor felt the bondage of his cloister cell; - For all his soul was filled with high intent, - He had no dream since its accomplishment— - To make a copy of the Holy Word, - Fairer than eye had seen, or ear had heard, - Or heart conceived of! Day by day he wrought, - His fingers guided by a single thought; - Forming each letter with the tenderest care, - With points of richest color here and there; - With birds on swaying boughs, and butterflies - Poised on gay wings o’er sprays of eglantine; - With tangled tracery of flower and vine - Through which gleamed cherub faces, half divine; - With fading leaves that drift when summer dies, - And angels floating down the evening skies— - Each word an orison, each line a prayer! - Slowly the work went on from day to day; - The seasons came and went; May followed May; - Year after year passed by with stately tread - To join the countless legions of the dead, - Till Fra Anselmo, wan and bowed with age, - Bent, a gray monk, above the parchment page. - Death waited till he wrote the last fair line, - Then touched his hand and closed the Book Divine! - - * * * * * - - The world has grown apace since then. - He who would give GOD’S word to men, - In cloistered cell, o’er parchment page, - No longer bends from youth to age. - Countless as leaves by autumn strewn - The leaves of His great Book are blown - Over the earth as wide and far - As seeds by wandering breezes are! - Yet none the less He speaks to-day - As to Anselmo in his cell; - Bidding men speed upon their way - His later messages as well. - For not alone in Holy Book, - In revelations dim and old, - In sweetest stories simply told, - In grand, prophetic strains that reach - The loftiest heights of human speech, - In martial hymn, or saintly psalm, - In fiery threat, or logic calm, - GOD’S messages are writ to-day— - And He whose voice Mount Sinai shook - Still bids men hearken and obey! - He writes His name upon the hills; - He whispers in the mountain rills; - He speaks through every flower that blows, - In breath of lily, tint of rose; - In sultry calms; in furious beat - Of the wild storm’s tempestuous feet; - In starlit night, and dewy morn, - And splendor of the day new-born! - He uttereth His thunders where - The shock of battle rends the air; - He guides the fiery steeds of War; - He rules unseen the maddening jar, - The hate and din of party strife, - And bids it serve the nation’s life; - He leads fair Science, where she walks - With stately tread among the stars, - Or where, with reverent voice, she talks - With Nature through the eternal bars! - His Word is uttered wheresoe’er - A human soul has ears to hear. - The royal message never errs; - GOD send it true interpreters! - - -THE KING’S ROSEBUD - - Only a blushing rosebud, folding up - Such wealth of sweetness in its dewy cup - That the whole air was like rare incense flung - From golden censers round high altars swung! - One day the king passed by with stately tread, - And, reaching forth his hand, he lightly said, - “All sweets are mine; therefore this rose I take, - And wear it in my bosom for Love’s sake.” - Then, while the king passed on with smiling face, - The sweet rose gloried in its pride of place. - - But ah! the deeds that in Love’s name are done! - The woeful wrack wrought underneath the sun! - Still with that smile upon his lip, the king - Laid his rash hand upon the beauteous thing; - In hot haste tore the crimson leaves apart, - And drained the sweetness from its glowing heart; - Seared the soft petals with its fiery breath, - Then tossed it from him to ignoble death! - When next with idle steps I passed that way, - Prone in the mire the king’s fair rosebud lay. - - -SOMEWHERE - - How can I cease to pray for thee? Somewhere - In God’s great universe thou art to-day: - Can He not reach thee with His tender care? - Can He not hear me when for thee I pray? - - What matters it to Him, who holds within - The hollow of His hand all worlds, all space, - That thou art done with earthly pain and sin? - Somewhere within His ken thou hast a place. - - Somewhere thou livest and hast need of Him: - Somewhere thy soul sees higher heights to climb; - And somewhere still there may be valleys dim - That thou must pass to reach the hills sublime. - - Then all the more, because thou canst not hear - Poor human words of blessing, will I pray, - O true, brave heart! God bless thee, whereso’er - In His great universe thou art to-day! - - -PERADVENTURE - - I am thinking to-night of the little child - That lay on my breast three summer days, - Then swiftly, silently, dropped from sight, - While my soul cried out in sore amaze. - - It is fifteen years ago to-night; - Somewhere, I know, he has lived them through, - Perhaps with never a thought or dream - Of the mother-heart he never knew! - - Is he yet but a babe? or has he grown - To be like his brothers, fair and tall, - With a clear, bright eye, and a springing step, - And a voice that rings like a bugle call? - - I loved him. The rose in his waxen hand - Was wet with the dew of my falling tears; - I have kept the thought of my baby’s grave - Through all the length of these changeful years. - - Yet the love I gave him was not like that - I give to-day to my other boys, - Who have grown beside me, and turned to me - In all their griefs and in all their joys. - - Do you think he knows it? I wonder much - If the dead are passionless, cold, and dumb; - If into the calm of the deathless years - No thrill of a human love may come! - - Perhaps sometimes from the upper air - He has seen me walk with his brothers three; - Or felt in the tender twilight hour - The breath of the kisses they gave to me! - - Over his birthright, lost so soon, - Perhaps he has sighed as the swift years flew; - O child of my heart! you shall find somewhere - The love that on earth you never knew! - - - RENA - (A LEGEND OF BRUSSELS) - - -I. - - St. Gudula’s bells were chiming for the midnight, sad and slow, - In the ancient town of Brussels, many and many a year ago, - - And St. Michael, poised so grandly on his lofty, airy height, - Seemed transfigured in the glory of the full moon’s tender light, - - When, a fair and saintly maiden crowned with locks of palest gold, - Rena stood beside her lover, son of Hildebrand the Bold. - - She with grief and tears was pallid; but his face was hard and - stern: - All the passion of his being in his dark eyes seemed to burn. - - “Never dream that I will give thee back thy plighted faith,” he - cried, - “By St. Michael’s sword I swear it, thou, my love, shalt be my - bride!” - - “Nay, but hear me,” she responded; “hear the words that I must - speak; - I must speak, and thou must hearken, though my heart is like to - break. - - Yestermorn, as I sat spinning blithely at my cottage door, - Straightway fell a stately shadow in the sunshine on the floor; - - And a figure stood before me, so majestic and so grand, - That I knew it in a moment for the mighty Hildebrand— - - Stood and gazed on me till downward at my feet the distaff dropped, - And in all my veins the pulsing of the swift life-current stopped. - - ‘Thou art Rena,’ then he uttered, and he swore a dreadful oath, - And the tempest of his anger beat on me and on us both. - - ‘She who thinks to wed with Volmar must have lands and gold,’ said - he, - ‘Or must come of noble lineage, fit to mate with mine and me! - - Thou art but a peasant maiden, empty-handed, lowly born; - All the ladies of my castle would look down on thee with scorn. - - Even he will weary of thee when his passion once is spent, - Vainly cursing her who doomed him to an endless discontent!’ - - Then I, trembling, rose up slowly, and I looked him in the face, - Though the dreadful frown it wore seemed to darken all the place. - - ‘Sir, I thank you for this warning,’ said I, speaking low and clear, - ‘But the laughter of your ladies I must teach my heart to bear. - - For the rest—your son is noble—and my simple womanhood - He will hold in loving honor, as a saint the holy rood!’ - - Oh! then his stern face whitened, and a bitter laugh laughed he: - ‘Truly this my son is noble, and he shall not wed with thee. - - Hear my words now, and remember! for by this good sword I swear, - And by Michael standing yonder, watching us from upper air, - - If he dares to place a wedding-ring upon your dowerless hand, - On his head shall fall a father’s curse—the curse of Hildebrand!’ - - O, my Volmar! Then the earth rocked, and I fell down in a swoon; - When I woke the room was silent; it was past the hour of noon; - - And I waited for thy coming, as the captive waits for death, - With a mingled dread and longing, and a half-abated breath!” - - Straight the young man bowed before her, as before a holy shrine: - “Never hand of high-born lady was more richly dowered than thine! - - What care I for gold or honors, or—my—father’s—curse?” he said; - But the words died out in shudders, and his face grew like the dead. - - Then she twined her white arms round him, and she murmured, sweet - and low, - As the night wind breathing softly over banks where violets blow: - - “‘He who is accursed of father, he shall be accursed of God,’ - Long ago said one who followed where the holy prophets trod. - - Kiss me once, then, O my Volmar! just once more, my Volmar dear, - Even as you would kiss my white lips if I lay upon my bier! - - For a gulf as dark as death has opened wide ’twixt thee and me; - Neither thou nor I can cross it, and thy wife I may not be!” - - -II. - - Once again the bells of midnight chimed from St. Gudula’s towers, - While St. Michael watched the city slumbering through the ghostly - hours. - - But no slumber came to Rena where she moaned in bitter pain, - For the anguish of that parting wrought its work on heart and brain. - - Suddenly the air grew heavy as with magical perfume, - And a weird and wondrous splendor filled the dim and silent room. - - In the middle of the chamber stood a lady fair and sweet, - With bright tresses falling softly to her small and sandalled feet. - - Flushed her cheeks were as a wild rose, and the glory of her eyes - Was the laughing light and glory of the kindling morning skies. - - Airy robes of lightest tissue from her white arms floated free; - They seemed woven of the mist that curls above the azure sea, - - Wrought in curious devices, star and wheel and leaf and flower, - That, like frost upon a window-pane, might vanish in an hour. - - In her hands she bore a cushion, quaintly fashioned, strangely set - With small silver pins that spanned it like a branching coronet; - - And from threads of finest texture swung light bobbins to and fro, - As the lady stood illumined in the weird and wondrous glow. - - Not a single word she uttered; but, as silent as a shade, - Down the room she swiftly glided and beside the startled maid - - Knelt, a radiant vision, smiling into Rena’s wondering eyes, - Giving arch yet gracious answer to her tremulous surprise. - - Then she laid the satin cushion on the wondering maiden’s knee, - And to all her mute bewilderment, no syllable spake she. - - But, as in and out and round about, the silver pins among, - Flashed the white hand of the lady, and the shining bobbins swung, - - Lo! a web of fairy lightness like the misty robe she wore, - Swiftly grew beneath her fingers, drifting downward to the floor! - - And as Rena looked and wondered, inch by inch the marvel grew, - Till the eastern windows brightened as the gray dawn struggled - through. - - Then the lady’s hand touched Rena’s, and she pointed far away, - Where the palace towers were gleaming in the first red light of day. - - But when once again the maiden turned her glance within the room, - With the lady fair had vanished all the splendor and perfume. - - Still the satin cushion lay there, quaintly fashioned, strangely set - With the silver pins that spanned it like a branching coronet; - - Still the light web she had woven lay in drifts upon the floor, - Like the mist wreaths resting softly on some lone, enchanted shore! - - -III. - - Slowly Rena raised the cushion, with her sweet eyes shining clear, - Lightly tossed the fairy bobbins, half in gladness, half in fear. - - Ah! not vain had been her watching as the lovely lady wrought; - All the magic of her fingers her own cunning hand had caught! - - Many a day above the cushion Rena’s peerless head was bent, - And through many a solemn night she labored on with sweet intent. - - For, mayhap, the mystic marvels that she wove might bring her gold— - A fair dowry fit to match the pride of Hildebrand the Bold! - - Then she braided up her long hair, and put on her russet gown, - And with wicker basket laden passed she swiftly through the town, - - To the palace where Queen Ildegar, with dames of high degree, - In a lofty oriel window sat, the beauteous morn to see. - - In the door-way she stood meekly, till the queen said, “Maiden fair, - What have you in yonder basket that you carry with such care?” - - Eagerly she raised her blue eyes, hovering smiles and tears between, - Then across the room she glided, and knelt down before the queen. - - Lifting up the wicker cover, “Saints in heaven!” cried Ildegar, - “Here are tissues fit for angels, wrought with wreath and point and - star, - - In most curious devices! Never saw I aught so rare— - Where found you these frail webs woven of the lightest summer air?” - - “Well they may be fit for angels,” said she, underneath her breath; - “O my lady, hear a story that is strange and true as death.” - - But ere yet the tale was ended, up rose good Queen Ildegar, - And she sent her knights and pages to the castle riding far. - - “Bring me Hildebrand and Volmar, ere the sun goes down!” she cried, - “Ho! my ladies, for a wedding, and your queen shall bless the bride! - - I will buy these airy wonders, and this maiden in her hand - Shall a dowry hold as royal as the noblest in the land.” - - So they combed her shining tresses, and they brought her robes of - silk, - Broidered thick with gold and silver, on a ground as white as milk. - - But she whispered, “Sweetest ladies, let me wear my russet gown, - That I wore this happy morning walking blithely through the town. - - I am but a peasant maiden, all unused to grand estate, - And for robes of silken splendor, dearest ladies, let me wait!” - - Then the good queen, smiling brightly, from the wicker basket took - Lightest web of quaintest pattern, and its filmy folds out-shook. - - With her own white hand she laid it over Rena’s golden hair, - And she cried, “Oh, look, my ladies! Ne’er before was bride so fair!” - - -A SECRET - - - It is your secret and mine, love! - Ah, me! how the dreary rain - With a slow persistence, all day long - Dropped on the window-pane! - The chamber was weird with shadows - And dark with the deepening gloom - Where you in your royal womanhood, - Lay waiting for the tomb. - - They had robed you all in white, love; - In your hair was a single rose— - A marble rose it might well have been - In its cold and still repose! - O, paler than yonder carven saint, - And calm as the angels are, - You seemed so near me, my beloved, - Yet were, alas, so far! - - I do not know if I wept, love; - But my soul rose up and said— - “My heart shall speak unto her heart, - Though here she is lying—dead! - I will give her a last love-token - That shall be to her a sign - In the dark grave—or beyond it— - Of this deathless love of mine.” - - So I sought me a little scroll, love; - And thereon, in eager haste, - Lest another’s eye should read them - Some mystic words I traced. - Then close in your claspèd fingers, - Close in your waxen hand, - I placed the scroll for an amulet, - Sure you would understand! - - The secret is yours and mine, love! - Only we two may know - What words shine clear in the darkness, - Of your grave so green and low. - But if when we meet hereafter, - In the dawn of some fairer day, - You whisper those mystical words, love, - It is all I would have you say! - - -THIS DAY - - I wonder what is this day to you, - Looking down from the upper skies! - Is there a pang at your gentle heart? - Is there a shade in your tender eyes? - Do you think up there of the whispered words - That thrilled your soul long years ago? - Does ever a haunting undertone - Blend with the chantings sweet and low? - - When this day dawned (if where you are - Skies grow red when the morn is near) - Did you know that before its close - The love once yours would be on its bier? - Did you know that another’s lip - Would redden with kisses once your own, - And the golden cup of a younger life - O’erflow with the wine once yours alone? - - Do you remember? Ah, my saint, - Bend your ear from the ether blue! - Have you risen to heights so far - That earth and its loves are nought to you? - Do you care that your place is filled? - Does it matter that now at last - The turf above you has grown so deep - That its shadow overlies your past? - - O, belovèd, I may not know! - Heaven is afar, and the grave is dumb, - And out of the silence so profound - Neither token nor voice may come! - We try to think that we understand; - But whether you wake, or whether you sleep, - Or whether our deeds are aught to you, - Is still a mystery strange and deep! - - -“CHRISTUS!” - - Over the desolate sea-side town - With a terrible tumult the night came down, - And the fierce wind swept through the empty street, - With the drifting snow for a winding-sheet. - Elsie, the fisherman’s daughter, in bed - Lay and listened in awe and dread, - But sprang to her feet in sudden fear - When over the tempest, loud and clear, - A voice cried, “Christus!” - - “Christus! Christus!” and nothing more. - Was it a cry at the cottage-door? - She left her chamber with flying feet; - She loosened the bolts with fingers fleet; - She lifted the latch, but only the din - Of the furious storm and the snow swept in. - She looked without: not a soul was there, - But still rang out on the startled air - The strange cry, “Christus!” - - “Christus! Christus!” She slept at last, - Though the old house rocked in the wintry blast; - And when she awoke the world was still, - A wide, white silence from sea to hill. - No creature stirred in the morning glow; - There was not a footprint in the snow; - Yet again through the hush, as faint and far - As if it came from another star, - A voice sighed “Christus!” - - “Christus! Christus!” Who can it be, - O Christ our Lord, that is calling Thee - In a foreign tongue, with a woe as wild - As that of some lost, forsaken child? - She turned from the window with a startled gaze: - She clasped her hands in a pale amaze, - Hearkening still, till again she heard, - As in a waking dream, the word— - That strange word, “Christus!” - - Then over the hill with weary feet - She toiled through the drifts to the village-street. - The villagers gathered in eager haste, - And all day long in the snowy waste - They sought in vain for the one who cried - To Him who of old was crucified: - Then, turning away with a laugh, they said, - “’Twas only the wild wind overhead, - Your cry of ‘Christus!’” - - She watched their going with earnest eyes: - Hark! what voice to the taunt replies? - The trees were still as if struck with death; - The wind was soft as a baby’s breath; - The sobbing sea was asleep at last, - Scourged no more by the furious blast; - Yet, surely as ever from human tongue - A cry of grief or despair was wrung, - Some voice sighed, “Christus!” - - Burned on her cheek a sudden flame - As her heart’s strong throbbings went and came, - And she stood alone on the lonely shore, - Gazing the wide black waters o’er. - “Whether it comes from heaven or hell, - This voice I have learned to know too well— - Whether from lips alive or dead, - Or from the hovering air,” she said— - “Whether it comes from sea or land, - I will not sleep till I understand - This cry of ‘Christus!’” - - “Christus! Christus!” Faint and slow - Rose the wail from the drifted snow - Under a low-browed, beetling rock, - Strong to withstand the whirlwind’s shock. - There, in the heart of the snowy mound, - The buried form of a man she found— - A Spanish sailor, with beard of brown - Over his red scarf flowing down, - And jewelled ears that were strange to see. - She was bending over it, when—ah me! - The shrill cry, “Christus!” - - Rang out as if from the stony lips - Whence life had parted in drear eclipse, - As if the soul of the dead man cried - Again unto Christ the Crucified. - The rose had fled from her cheeks so red, - But still she knelt by his side and said, - Under her breath, “I must understand - Whether from heaven or sea or land - Comes that cry, ‘Christus!’” - - She laid her hand on the pulseless breast! - What fluttered beneath the crimson vest? - A bird with plumage of green and gold, - Nestling away from the piercing cold, - Was folded close to the silent heart - From which it had felt the life depart; - And when she held it against her cheek, - As plainly as ever a bird could speak - It sobbed out, ‘Christus!’” - - And evermore when the winds blew loud, - And the trees in the grasp of the storm were bowed, - And the lowering wings of the tempest beat - The drifting snow in the village-street, - Just as its master in death had cried - To Christ, the Holy, the Crucified, - Pouring his soul in one wild word— - Pray God that the cry in heaven was heard!— - The bird cried, “Christus!” - - -THE KISS - - When you lay before me dead, - In your pallid rest, - On those passive lips of thine - Not one kiss I pressed! - - Did you wonder—looking down - From some higher sphere— - Knowing how we two had loved - Many and many a year? - - Did you think me strange and cold - When I did not touch, - Even with reverent finger-tips, - What I had loved so much? - - Ah! when last you kissed me, dear, - Know you what you said? - “Take this last kiss, my beloved, - Soon shall I be dead! - - Keep it for a solemn sign, - Through our love’s long night, - Till you give it back again - On some morning bright.” - - So I gave you no caress; - But, remembering this, - Warm upon my lips I keep - Your last living kiss! - - -WHAT SHE THOUGHT - - Marion showed me her wedding-gown - And her veil of gossamer lace to-night, - And the orange-blooms that to-morrow morn - Shall fade in her soft hair’s golden light. - But Philip came to the open door: - Like the heart of a wild-rose glowed her cheek, - And they wandered off through the garden-paths - So blest that they did not care to speak. - - I wonder how it seems to be loved; - To know you are fair in someone’s eyes; - That upon someone your beauty dawns - Every day as a new surprise; - To know that, whether you weep or smile, - Whether your mood be grave or gay, - Somebody thinks you, all the while, - Sweeter than any flower of May. - - I wonder what it would be to love: - That, I think, would be sweeter far,— - To know that one out of all the world - Was lord of your life, your king, your star! - They talk of love’s sweet tumult and pain: - I am not sure that I understand, - Though—a thrill ran down to my finger-tips - Once when—somebody—touched my hand! - - I wonder what it would be to dream - Of a child that might one day be your own; - Of the hidden springs of your life a part, - Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone. - Marion stooped one day to kiss - A beggar’s babe with a tender grace; - While some sweet thought, like a prophecy, - Looked from her pure Madonna face. - - I wonder what it must be to think - To-morrow will be your wedding-day, - And you, in the radiant sunset glow - Down fragrant flowery paths will stray, - As Marion does this blessed night, - With Philip, lost in a blissful dream. - Can she feel his heart through the silence beat? - Does he see her eyes in the starlight gleam? - - Questioning thus, my days go on; - But never an answer comes to me: - All love’s mysteries, sweet as strange, - Sealed away from my life must be. - Yet still I dream, O heart of mine! - Of a beautiful city that lies afar; - And there, some time, I shall drop the mask, - And be shapely and fair as others are. - - -WHAT NEED? - - _“What need has the singer to sing? - And why should your poet to-day - His pale little garland of poesy bring, - On the altar to lay? - High-priests of song the harp-strings swept - Ages before he smiled or wept!”_ - - What need have the roses to bloom? - And why do the tall lilies grow? - And why do the violets shed their perfume - When night-winds breathe low? - They are no whit more bright and fair - Than flowers that breathed in Eden’s air! - - What need have the stars to shine on? - Or the clouds to grow red in the west, - When the sun, like a king, from the fields he has won, - Goes grandly to rest? - No brighter they than stars and skies - That greeted Eve’s sweet, wondering eyes! - - What need has the eagle to soar - So proudly straight up to the sun? - Or the robin such jubilant music to pour - When day is begun? - The eagles soared, the robins sung, - As high, as sweet, when earth was young! - - What need, do you ask me? Each day - Hath a song and a prayer of its own, - As each June hath its crown of fresh roses, each May - Its bright emerald throne! - Its own high thought each age shall stir, - Each needs its own interpreter! - - And thou, O, my poet, sing on! - Sing on until love shall grow old; - Till patience and faith their last triumphs have won, - And truth is a tale that is told! - Doubt not, thy song shall still be new - While life endures and God is true! - - -TWO - - We two will stand in the shadow here, - To see the bride as she passes by; - Ring soft and low, ring loud and clear, - Ye chiming bells that swing on high! - Look! look! she comes! The air grows sweet - With the fragrant breath of the orange blooms, - And the flowers she treads beneath her feet - Die in a flood of rare perfumes! - - She comes! she comes! The happy bells - With joyous clamor fill the air, - While the great organ dies and swells, - Soaring to trembling heights of prayer! - Oh! rare are her robes of silken sheen, - And the pearls that gleam on her bosom’s snow; - But rarer the grace of her royal mien, - Her hair’s fine gold, and her cheek’s young glow. - - Dainty and fair as a folded rose, - Fresh as a violet dewy sweet, - Chaste as a lily, she hardly knows - That there are rough paths for other feet. - For Love hath shielded her; Honor kept - Watch beside her by night and day; - And Evil out from her sight hath crept, - Trailing its slow length far away. - - Now in her perfect womanhood, - In all the wealth of her matchless charms, - Lovely and beautiful, pure and good, - She yields herself to her lover’s arms. - Hark! how the jubilant voices ring! - Lo! as we stand in the shadow here, - While far above us the gay bells swing, - I catch the gleam of a happy tear! - - The pageant is over. Come with me - To the other side of the town, I pray, - Ere the sun goes down in the darkening sea, - And night falls around us, chill and gray. - In the dim church porch an hour ago, - We waited the bride’s fair face to see; - Now Life has a sadder sight to show, - A darker picture for you and me. - - No need to seek for the shadow here; - There are shadows lurking everywhere; - These streets in the brightest day are drear, - And black as the blackness of despair. - But this is the house. Take heed, my friend, - The stairs are rotten, the way is dim; - And up the flights, as we still ascend, - Creep stealthy phantoms dark and grim. - - Enter this chamber. Day by day, - Alone in this chill and ghostly room, - A child—a woman—which is it, pray?— - Despairingly waits for the hour of doom! - Ah! as she wrings her hands so pale, - No gleam of a wedding ring you see; - There is nothing to tell. You know the tale— - God help her now in her misery! - - I dare not judge her. I only know - That love was to her a sin and a snare, - While to the bride of an hour ago - It brought all blessings its hands could bear! - I only know that to one it came - Laden with honor, and joy, and peace; - Its gifts to the other were woe and shame, - And a burning pain that shall never cease! - - I only know that the soul of one - Has been a pearl in a golden case; - That of the other a pebble thrown - Idly down in a way-side place, - Where all day long strange footsteps trod, - And the bold, bright sun drank up the dew! - Yet both were women. O righteous God, - Thou only canst judge between the two! - - -UNANSWERED - - Where mountain-peaks rose far and high - Into the blue, unclouded sky, - And waves of green, like billowy seas, - Tossed proudly in the freshening breeze, - - I rode one morning, late in June. - The glad winds sang a pleasant tune; - The air, like draughts of rarest wine, - Made every breath a joy divine. - - With roses all the way was bright; - Yet there upon that upland height - The darlings of the early spring— - Blue violets—were blossoming. - - And all the meadows, wide unrolled, - Were green and silver, green and gold, - Where buttercups and daisies spun - Their shining tissues in the sun. - - Over its shallow, pebbly bed, - A sparkling river gayly sped, - Nor cared that deeper waters bore - A grander freight from shore to shore. - - It sung, it danced, it laughed, it played, - In sunshine now, and now in shade; - While every gnarled tree joyed to make - A greener garland for its sake. - - Deep peace was in the summer air, - A peace all nature seemed to share; - Yet even there I could not flee - The shadow of life’s mystery! - - A farmhouse stood beside the way, - Low-roofed and rambling, quaint and gray; - And where the friendly door swung wide - Red roses climbed on either side. - - And thither, down the winding road - Near which the sparkling river flowed, - In groups, in pairs, the neighbors pressed, - Each in his Sunday raiment dressed. - - A sober calm was on each face; - Sweet stillness brooded o’er the place; - Yet something of a festal air - The youths and maidens seemed to wear. - - But, as I passed, an idle breeze - Swept through the quivering maple-trees; - Chased by the winds in merry rout, - A fair, light curtain floated out. - - And this I saw: a quiet room - Adorned with flowers of richest bloom— - A lily here, a garland there— - Fragrance and silence everywhere. - - Then on I rode. But if a bride - Should there her happy blushes hide, - Or if beyond my vision lay - Some pale face shrouded from the day, - - I could not tell. O joy and Pain, - Your voices join in one refrain! - So like ye are, we may not know - If this be gladness, this be woe! - - -THE CLAY TO THE ROSE - - O beautiful, royal Rose, - O Rose, so fair and sweet! - Queen of the garden art thou, - And I—the Clay at thy feet! - - The butterfly hovers about thee; - The brown bee kisses thy lips; - And the humming-bird, reckless rover, - Their marvellous sweetness sips. - - The sunshine hastes to caress thee - Flying on pinions fleet; - The dew-drop sleeps in thy bosom, - But I—I lie at thy feet! - - The radiant morning crowns thee; - And the noon’s hot heart is thine; - And the starry night enfolds thee - In the might of its love divine; - - I hear the warm rain whisper - Its message soft and sweet; - And the south-wind’s passionate murmur, - While I lie low at thy feet! - - It is not mine to approach thee; - I never may kiss thy lips, - Or touch the hem of thy garment - With tremulous finger-tips. - - Yet, O thou beautiful Rose! - Queen rose, so fair and sweet, - What were lover or crown to thee - Without the Clay at thy feet? - - -AT THE LAST - - Will the day ever come, I wonder, - When I shall be glad to know - That my hands will be folded under - The next white fall of the snow? - To know that when next the clover - Wooeth the wandering bee, - Its crimson tide will drift over - All that is left of me? - - Will I ever be tired of living, - And be glad to go to my rest, - With a cool and fragrant lily - Asleep on my silent breast? - Will my eyes grow weary of seeing, - As the hours pass, one by one, - Till I long for the hush and the darkness - As I never longed for the sun? - - God knoweth! Sometime, it may be, - I shall smile to hear you say: - “Dear heart! she will not waken - At the dawn of another day!” - And sometime, love, it may be, - I shall whisper under my breath: - “The happiest hour of my life, dear, - Is this—the hour of my death!” - - -TO THE “BOUQUET CLUB” - - O Rosebud garland of girls! - Who ask for a song from me, - To what sweet air shall I set my lay? - What shall its key-note be? - The flowers have gone from wood and hill; - The rippling river lies white and still; - And the birds that sang on the maple bough, - Afar in the South are singing now! - - O Rosebud garland of girls! - If the whole glad year were May; - If winds sang low in the clustering leaves, - And roses bloomed alway; - If youth were all that there is of life; - If the years brought nothing of care or strife, - Nor ever a cloud to the ether blue, - It were easy to sing a song for you! - - Yet, O my garland of girls! - Is there nothing better than May? - The golden glow of the harvest time! - The rest of the Autumn day! - This thought I give to you all to keep: - Who soweth good seed shall surely reap; - The year grows rich as it groweth old, - And life’s latest sands are its sands of gold! - - -EVENTIDE - - Whenever, with reverent footsteps, - I pass through the open door - Of Memory’s stately palace, - Where dwell the days of yore, - One scene, like a lovely vision, - Comes to me o’er and o’er. - - ’Tis a dim, fire-lighted chamber; - There are pictures on the wall; - And around them dance the shadows - Grotesque and weird and tall, - As the flames on the storied hearth-stone - Wavering rise and fall. - - An ancient cabinet stands there, - That came from beyond the seas, - With a breath of spicy odors - Caught from the Indian breeze; - And its fluted doors and moldings - Are dark with mysteries. - - There’s an old arm-chair in the corner, - Straight-backed and tall and quaint; - Ah! many a generation— - Sinner and sage and saint— - It hath held in its ample bosom - With murmur nor complaint! - - In the glow of the fire-light playing, - A tiny, blithesome pair, - With the music of their laughter - Fill all the tranquil air— - A rosy, brown-eyed lassie, - A boy serenely fair. - - A woman sits in the shadow - Watching the children twain, - With a joy so deep and tender - It is near akin to pain, - And a smile and tear blend softly— - Sunshine and April rain! - - Her heart keeps time to the rhythm - Of love’s unuttered prayer, - As, with still hands lightly folded, - She listens, unaware, - Through all the children’s laughter, - For a footfall on the stair. - - I know the woman who sits there; - Time hath been kind to her, - And the years have brought her treasures - Of frankincense and myrrh - Richer, perhaps, and rarer, - Than Life’s young roses were. - - But I doubt if ever her spirit - Hath known, or yet shall know, - The bliss of a happier hour, - As the swift years come and go, - Than this in the shadowy chamber - Lit by the hearth-fire’s glow! - - -MY LOVERS - - I have four noble lovers, - Young and gallant, blithe and gay, - And in all the land no maiden - Hath a goodlier troupe than they! - And never princess, guarded - By knights of high degree, - Knew sweeter, purer homage - Than my lovers pay to me! - - One of my noble lovers - Is a self-poised, thoughtful man, - Gravely gay, serenely earnest, - Strong to do, and bold to plan. - And one is sweet and sunny, - Pure as crystal, true as steel, - With a soul responding ever - When the truth makes high appeal. - - And another of my lovers, - Bright and _debonair_ is he, - Brave and ardent, strong and tender, - And the flower of courtesie. - Last of all, an eager student, - Upon lofty aims intent: - Manly force and gentle sweetness - In his nature rarely blent. - - But when of noble lovers - All alike are dear and true, - And her heart to choose refuses, - Pray, what can a woman do? - Ah, my sons! For this I bless ye, - Even as I myself am blest, - That I know not which is dearest, - That I care not which is best! - - -THE LEGEND OF THE ORGAN-BUILDER - - Day by day the Organ-Builder in his lonely chamber wrought; - Day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought; - - Till at last the work was ended, and no organ voice so grand - Ever yet had soared responsive to the master’s magic hand. - - Ay, so rarely was it builded that whenever groom or bride - Who in God’s sight were well pleasing in the church stood side by - side, - - Without touch or breath the organ of itself began to play, - And the very airs of heaven through the soft gloom seemed to stray. - - He was young, the Organ-Builder, and o’er all the land his fame - Ran with fleet and eager footsteps, like a swiftly rushing flame. - - All the maidens heard the story; all the maidens blushed and smiled, - By his youth and wondrous beauty and his great renown beguiled. - - So he sought and won the fairest, and the wedding-day was set: - Happy day—the brightest jewel in the glad year’s coronet! - - But when they the portal entered, he forgot his lovely bride— - Forgot his love, forgot his God, and his heart swelled high with - pride. - - “Ah!” thought he, “how great a master am I! When the organ plays, - How the vast cathedral arches will re-echo with my praise!” - - Up the aisle the gay procession moved. The altar shone afar, - With its every candle gleaming through soft shadows like a star. - - But he listened, listened, listened, with no thought of love or - prayer, - For the swelling notes of triumph from his organ standing there. - - All was silent. Nothing heard he save the priest’s low monotone, - And the bride’s robe trailing softly o’er the floor of fretted - stone. - - Then his lips grew white with anger. Surely God was pleased with him - Who had built the wondrous organ for His temple vast and dim? - - Whose the fault, then? Hers—the maiden standing meekly at his side! - Flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was false to him—his bride. - - Vain were all her protestations, vain her innocence and truth; - On that very night he left her to her anguish and her ruth. - - * * * * * - - Far he wandered to a country wherein no man knew his name. - For ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still his wrath and - shame. - - Then his haughty heart grew softer, and he thought by night and day - Of the bride he had deserted, till he hardly dared to pray— - - Thought of her, a spotless maiden, fair and beautiful and good; - Thought of his relentless anger that had cursed her womanhood; - - Till his yearning grief and penitence at last were all complete, - And he longed, with bitter longing, just to fall down at her feet. - - * * * * * - - Ah! how throbbed his heart when, after many a weary day and night, - Rose his native towers before him, with the sunset glow alight! - - Through the gates into the city on he pressed with eager tread; - There he met a long procession—mourners following the dead. - - “Now, why weep ye so, good people? and whom bury ye to-day? - Why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along the way? - - Has some saint gone up to Heaven?” “Yes,” they answered, weeping - sore: - “For the Organ-Builder’s saintly wife our eyes shall see no more; - - And because her days were given to the service of God’s poor, - From His church we mean to bury her. See! yonder is the door.” - - No one knew him; no one wondered when he cried out, white with pain; - No one questioned when, with pallid lips, he poured his tears like - rain. - - “’Tis someone whom she has comforted who mourns with us,” they said, - As he made his way unchallenged, and bore the coffin’s head. - - Bore it through the open portal, bore it up the echoing aisle, - Set it down before the altar, where the lights burned clear the - while: - - When, oh, hark! the wondrous organ of itself began to play - Strains of rare, unearthly sweetness never heard until that day! - - All the vaulted arches rang with the music sweet and clear; - All the air was filled with glory, as of angels hovering near; - - And ere yet the strain was ended, he who bore the coffin’s head, - With the smile of one forgiven, gently sank beside it—dead. - - They who raised the body knew him, and they laid him by his bride; - Down the aisle and o’er the threshold they were carried side by - side; - - While the organ played a dirge that no man ever heard before, - And then softly sank to silence—silence kept for evermore. - - -BUTTERFLY AND BABY BLUE - - Butterfly and Baby Blue, - Did you come together - Floating down the summer skies, - In the summer weather? - Seems to me you’re much alike, - Airy, fairy creatures, - Though I small resemblance find - In your tiny features! - - Butterfly has gauzy wings, - Bright with jewelled splendor; - Baby Blue has pink-white arms, - Rosy, warm, and tender. - Butterfly has golden rings, - Charming each beholder; - Baby wears a knot of blue - On each dimpled shoulder. - - Butterfly is never still, - Always in a flutter; - And of dainty Baby Blue - The same truth I utter! - Butterfly on happy wing - In the sunshine dances; - Baby Blue for sunshine has - Mother’s smiles and glances! - - Butterfly seeks honey-dew - In a lily palace; - Baby Blue finds nectar sweet - In a snow-white chalice. - Butterfly will furl its wings - When the air grows colder; - While dear Baby Blue will be - Just a trifle older! - - Ah! the days are growing short, - Soon the birds will leave us, - And of all the garden flowers - Cruel frost bereave us. - Butterfly and Baby Blue, - Do not go together, - Sailing through the autumn skies - In the autumn weather! - - -KING IVAN’S OATH - - King Ivan ruled a mighty land - Girt by the sea on either hand; - A goodly land as e’er the sun - In its long journey looked upon! - His knights were loyal, brave, and true, - Eager their lord’s behests to do; - His counsellors were wise and just, - Nor ever failed his kingly trust; - The nations praised him, and the state - Grew powerful, and rich, and great; - While still with long and loud acclaim, - His people hailed their monarch’s name! - - Fronting the east, a stately pile, - The palace caught the sun’s first smile; - Lightly its domes and arches sprung, - As earth’s glad hills when earth was young; - And miracles of airy grace, - Each tower and turret soared in space. - Within——But here no rhythmic flow - Of words with light and warmth aglow - Can tell the story. Not more fair - Are your own castles hung in air! - Painter and sculptor there had wrought - The utmost beauty of their thought; - There the rich fruit of Persian looms - Glowed darkly bright as tropic blooms; - There fell the light like golden mist, - Filtered through clouds of amethyst; - There bright-winged birds and odorous flowers - With song and fragrance filled the hours; - There Pleasure flung the portals wide, - And soul and sense were satisfied! - - The queen? No fairer face than hers - E’er smiled upon its worshippers; - And she was good as fair, ’twas said, - And loved the king ere they were wed. - And he? No doubt he loved her, too, - After a kingly fashion—knew - She had a right his throne to share, - And would be mother of his heir. - But yet, to do him justice, he - Sometimes forgot his royalty— - Forgot his kingly crown, and then - Loved, and made love, like other men! - - There seemed no shadow near the throne; - Yet oft the great king walked alone, - Hands clasped behind him, head bowed down, - And on his royal face a frown. - Sat Mordecai within his gate? - What scoffing spectre mocked his state? - What demon held him in a spell? - Alas! the sweet queen knew too well! - Apples of Sodom ate he, since - She had not borne to him a prince, - Though thrice his hope had budded fair, - And he had counted on an heir. - Three little daughters, dainty girls - With sunshine tangled in their curls, - Bloomed in the palace; but no son— - The long-expected, waited one, - Flower of the state, and pride of all— - Grew at the king’s side, straight and tall! - - The king was angered. It may be - No worse than other men was he; - But—a high tower upon a hill— - His light shone far for good or ill! - In from the chase one day he rode; - To the queen’s chamber fierce he strode; - Where bending o’er her ’broidery frame, - Her pale cheeks burned with sudden flame - At his quick coming. Up she rose, - Stirred from her wonted calm repose, - A lily flushing when the sun - Its stately beauty looked upon! - Alas! alas! so blind was he— - Or else he did not care to see— - He had no pity, though she stood - In perfect flower of womanhood! - “You bear to me no son,” he said; - Then flinging back his haughty head: - “Each base-born peasant has an heir, - His name to keep, his crust to share, - While I—the king of this broad land— - Have no son near my throne to stand! - Who, then, shall reign when I am dead? - Who wield the sceptre in my stead? - Inherit all my pride and power, - And wear my glory as his dower? - Give me a man-child, who shall be - Lord of the realm, himself, and me!” - - Then pallid lips made slow reply— - “God ordereth. Not you nor I!” - His brow flushed hot; a sudden clang - As of arms throughout the chamber rang, - And turning on his heel, he threw - Back wrathful answer: “That may do - For puling women—not for me! - Now, by my good sword, we shall see! - So help me Heaven, I will not brook - On a girl’s face again to look! - And when you next shall bear a child, - Though fair a babe as ever smiled, - If it be not a princely heir, - By all the immortal gods, I swear - I ne’er will speak to it, nor break - My soul’s stern silence for Love’s sake!” - - Then forth he fared and rode away, - Nor saw the queen again that day— - The hapless queen, who to the floor - Sank prone and breathless, as the door - Swung to behind him, and his tread - Down the long arches echoèd. - In truth she was in sorry plight - When her maids found her late that night, - The king learned that which spoiled his rest, - But kept the secret in his breast! - - * * * * * - - At length, when months had duly sped, - High streamed the banners overhead, - And all the bells rang out at morn - In jubilant peals—a Prince was born! - Now let the joyous music ring! - Now let the merry minstrels sing! - Now pour the wine and crown the feast - With fruits and flowers of all the East! - Now let the votive candles shine - And garlands bloom on every shrine! - Now let the young, with flying feet - Time to bewildering music beat, - And let the old their joys rehearse - In stirring tale, or flowing verse! - Now fill with shouts the waiting air, - And scatter largess everywhere! - - Ah! who so happy as the king? - Swift flew the hours on eager wing; - And the boy grew apace, until - The second summer, sweet and still, - Dropped roses round him as he played - Where arched the leafy colonnade. - How fair he was tongue cannot say, - But he was fairer than the day; - And never princely coronet - On brow of nobler mould was set; - Nor ever did its jewels gleam - Above an eye of brighter beam; - And never yet where sunshine falls, - Flooding with light the cottage walls, - ’Mid hum of bee, or song of birds, - Or tenderest breath of loving words, - Blossomed a sweeter child than he! - How the king joyed his strength to see, - Counting the weeks that flew so fast— - Each fuller, happier than the last! - Six months had passed since he could walk; - Was it not time the prince should talk? - Ah! baby words with tripping feet! - Ah! baby laughter, silver sweet! - - At length within the palace rose - Rumor so strange that friends and foes - Forgot their love, forgot their hate, - Pausing to croon and speculate. - Vague whispers floated in the air; - A hint of mystery here and there; - A sudden hush, a startled glance, - Quick silences and looks askance. - Thus day by day the wonder grew, - Till o’er the kingdom wide it flew. - The prince—his father—what was this - Strange tale so surely told amiss? - The young prince dumb? Who dared to say - That nature such a prank could play? - _Dumb to the king?_ In silence bound, - With voiceless lips that gave no sound - When the king questioned?—Yet, no lute, - Nor chiming bell, nor silver flute, - Nor lark’s song, high in ether hung, - Rang clearer than the prince’s tongue! - - The court physicians came and went; - Learned men from all the continent - Gave wise opinions, talked of laws, - Stroked their gray beards, nor found the cause. - Then bribes were tried, and threats. The child, - As one bewildered, sighed and smiled, - In a wild storm of weeping broke, - Moved its red lips, but never spoke. - - The changeful years rolled on apace; - The young prince wore a bearded face; - The good queen died; the king grew gray; - A generation passed away. - Courtiers forgot to tell the tale; - Gossip itself grew old and stale. - But never once, in all the years - That bore such freight of joys and tears, - Was the spell broken: not one word - From son to sire was ever heard. - Mutely his father’s face he scanned— - Mutely he clasped his agèd hand— - Mutely he kissed him when at last - To death’s long slumber forth he passed! - Come weal or woe, he could not break - The mystic silence for Love’s sake! - - -AT DAWN - - At dawn, when the jubilant morning broke, - And its glory flooded the mountain side, - I said, “’Tis eleven years to-day, - Eleven years since my darling died!” - - And then I turned to my household ways, - To my daily tasks, without, within, - As happily busy all the day - As if my darling had never been!— - - As if she had never lived, or died! - Yet when they buried her out of my sight - I thought the sun had gone down at noon, - And the day could never again be bright. - - Ah, well! As the swift years come and go, - It will not be long ere I shall lie - Somewhere under a bit of turf, - With my pale hands folded quietly. - - And then someone who has loved me well— - Perhaps the one who has loved me best— - Will say of me as I said of her, - “She has been just so many years at rest”— - - Then turn to the living loves again, - To the busy life, without, within, - And the day will go on from dawn to dusk, - Even as if I had never been! - - Dear hearts! dear hearts! It must still be so! - The roses will bloom, and the stars will shine, - And the soft green grass creep still and slow, - Sometime over a grave of mine— - - And over the grave in your hearts as well! - Ye cannot hinder it if ye would; - And I—ah! I shall be wiser then— - I would not hinder it if I could! - - -IN MEMORIAM - -[Cyrus M. and Mary Ripley Fisher, lost on steamship Atlantic, April 1, -1873.] - - - Once, long ago, with trembling lips I sung - Of one who, when the earliest flowers were seen, - So sweet, so dear, so beautiful and young, - Came home to sleep where kindred graves were green. - - Soft was the turf we raised to give her room; - Clear were the rain-drops, shining as they fell; - Sweet the arbutus, with its tender bloom - Brightening the couch of her who loved it well. - - Yet, in our blindness, how we wept that day, - When the earth fell upon her coffin-lid! - O, ye beloved whom I sing _this_ day, - Could we but know where your dear forms lie hid! - - Could we but lay you down by her dear side, - Wrapped in the garments of eternal rest, - Where the still hours in slow succession glide, - And not a dream may stir the pulseless breast— - - Where all day long the shadows come and go, - And soft winds murmur and sweet song-birds sing— - Where all night long the starlight’s tender glow - Falls where the flowers you loved are blossoming— - - Then should the tempest of our grief grow calm; - Then moaning gales should vex our souls no more; - And the clear swelling of our thankful psalm - Should drown the beat of surges on the shore. - - But the deep sea will not give up its dead. - O, ye who know where your belovèd sleep, - Bid heart’s-ease bloom on each love-guarded bed, - And bless your God for graves whereon to weep! - - -WEAVING THE WEB - - “This morn I will weave my web,” she said, - As she stood by her loom in the rosy light, - And her young eyes, hopefully glad and clear, - Followed afar the swallow’s flight. - “As soon as the day’s first tasks are done, - While yet I am fresh and strong,” said she, - “I will hasten to weave the beautiful web - Whose pattern is known to none but me! - - I will weave it fine, I will weave it fair, - And ah! how the colors will glow!” she said; - “So fadeless and strong will I weave my web - That perhaps it will live after I am dead.” - But the morning hours sped on apace; - The air grew sweet with the breath of June; - And young Love hid by the waiting loom, - Tangling the threads as he hummed a tune. - - “Ah, life is so rich and full!” she cried, - “And morn is short though the days are long! - This noon I will weave my beautiful web, - I will weave it carefully, fine and strong.” - But the sun rode high in the cloudless sky; - The burden and heat of the day she bore - And hither and thither she came and went, - While the loom stood still as it stood before. - - “Ah! life is too busy at noon,” she said; - “My web must wait till the eventide, - Till the common work of the day is done, - And my heart grows calm in the silence wide.” - So, one by one, the hours passed on - Till the creeping shadows had longer grown; - Till the house was still, and the breezes slept, - And her singing birds to their nests had flown. - - “And now I will weave my web,” she said, - As she turned to her loom ere set of sun, - And laid her hand on the shining threads - To set them in order one by one. - But hand was tired, and heart was weak: - “I am not as strong as I was,” sighed she, - “And the pattern is blurred, and the colors rare - Are not so bright, or so fair to see! - - I must wait, I think, till another morn; - I must go to my rest with my work undone; - It is growing too dark to weave!” she cried, - As lower and lower sank the sun. - She dropped the shuttle; the loom stood still; - The weaver slept in the twilight gray. - Dear heart! Will she weave her beautiful web - In the golden light of a longer day? - - -THE “CHRISTUS” OF THE PASSION PLAY OF OBERAMMERGAU - - How does life seem to thee? I long to look - Into thine inmost soul, and see if thou - Art even as other men! Oh, set apart - And consecrate so long to purpose high, - Canst thou take up again our common lot, - And live as we live? Canst thou buy and sell, - Stoop to small needs, and petty ministries, - Work and get gain, eat, drink, and soundly sleep, - Sin and repent, as these thy brethren do? - Unto what name less sacred answerest thou - Who hast been called the Christ of Nazareth? - Thou who hast worn the awful crown of thorns, - Hanging like Him upon the dreadful Tree, - Canst thou, uncrowned, forget thy royalty? - - -RABBI BENAIAH - - Rabbi Benaiah at the close of day, - When the low sun athwart the level sands - Shot his long arrows, from far Eastern lands - Homeward across the desert bent his way. - - Behind him trailed the lengthening caravan— - The slow, weird camels, with monotonous pace; - Before him, lifted in the clear, far space, - From east to west the towers of his city ran! - - Impatiently he scanned the darkening sky; - Then girding in hot haste, “What ho!” cried he, - “Bring the swift steed Abdallah unto me! - As rode his Bedouin master, so will I!” - - Soon like a bird across the waste he flew, - Nor drew his rein till at the massive gate - That guards the citadel’s supremest state - He paused a moment, slowly entering through. - - Then down the shadowy, moonlit streets he sped; - The city slept; but like a burning star, - Where his own turret-chamber rose afar, - A clear, strong light its steady radiance shed! - - Into his court he rode with sudden clang. - The startled slaves bowed low, but spake no word; - By no quick tumult was the midnight stirred, - No shouts of welcome on the night air rang! - - But with slow footsteps down the turret-stairs, - With trembling lips that hardly breathed his name, - And sad, averted eyes, his fair wife came— - The lady Judith—wan with tears and prayers. - - Then swift he cried out, less in wrath than fear, - “Now, by my beard! is this the way ye keep - My welcome home? Go! wake my sons from sleep, - And let their glad tongues break the silence here!” - - “Not so, my dear lord! Let them rest,” she said. - “Young eyes need slumber. But come thou with me. - I have a trouble to make known to thee - Ere I before thee can lift up my head.” - - Into an inner chamber led she him, - And with her own hands brought him meat and wine, - A purple robe, and linen pure and fine. - He half forgot that her sweet eyes were dim! - - “Now for thy trouble!” cried he, laughing loud. - “Hast torn thy kirtle? Are thy pearls astray? - What! Tears? My camels o’er yon desert way - Bring treasures that had made Queen Esther proud!” - - Slowly she spake, nor in his face looked she. - “My lord, long years ago a friend of mine - Left with me jewels, costly, rare, and fine, - Bidding me guard them carefully till he - - Again should call for them. The other day - He sent his messenger. But I have learned - To prize them as my own! Have I not earned - A right to keep them? Speak, my lord, I pray!” - - “Strange sense of honor hath a woman’s heart!” - The rabbi answered hotly. “Now, good lack! - Where are the jewels? I will send them back - Ere yet the sun upon his course may start! - - Show me the jewels!” Up she rose as white - As any ghost, and mutely led the way - Into the turret-chamber whence the ray - Seen from afar had blessed the rabbi’s sight. - - Then with slow, trembling hands she drew aside - The silken curtain from before the bed - Whereon, in snowy calm, their boys lay dead. - “There are the jewels, O, my lord!” she cried. - - -A CHILD’S THOUGHT - - Softly fell the twilight; - In the glowing west - Purple splendors faded; - Birds had gone to rest; - All the winds were sleeping; - One lone whip-poor-will - Made the silence deeper, - Calling from the hill. - - Silently, serenely, - From his mother’s knee, - In the gathering darkness, - Still as still could be, - A young child watched the shadows; - Saw the stars come out; - Saw the weird bats flitting - Stealthily about; - - Saw across the river - How the furnace glow, - Like a fiery pennant, - Wavered to and fro; - Saw the tall trees standing - Black against the sky, - And the moon’s pale crescent - Swinging far and high. - - Deeper grew the darkness; - Darker grew his eyes - As he gazed around him, - In a still surprise. - Then intently listening, - “What is this I hear - All the time, dear mother, - Sounding in my ear?” - - “I hear nothing,” said she, - “Earth is hushed and still.” - But he hearkened, hearkened, - With an eager will, - Till at length a quick smile - O’er the child-face broke, - And a kindling lustre - In his dark eyes woke. - - “Listen, listen, mother! - For I hear the sound - Of the wheels, the great wheels - That move the world around!” - Oh, ears earth has dulled not! - In your purer sphere, - Strains from ours withholden - Are you wise to hear? - - -“GOD KNOWS” - - Wild and dark was the winter night - When the emigrant ship went down, - But just outside of the harbor bar, - In the sight of the startled town. - The winds howled, and the sea roared, - And never a soul could sleep, - Save the little ones on their mothers’ breasts, - Too young to watch and weep. - - No boat could live in the angry surf, - No rope could reach the land: - There were bold, brave hearts upon the shore, - There was many a ready hand— - Women who prayed, and men who strove - When prayers and work were vain; - For the sun rose over the awful void - And the silence of the main. - - All day the watchers paced the sands, - All day they scanned the deep, - All night the booming minute-guns - Echoed from steep to steep. - “Give up thy dead, O cruel sea!” - They cried athwart the space; - But only an infant’s fragile form - Escaped from its stern embrace. - - Only one little child of all - Who with the ship went down - That night when the happy babies slept - So warm in the sheltered town. - Wrapped in the glow of the morning light, - It lay on the shifting sand, - As fair as a sculptor’s marble dream, - With a shell in its dimpled hand. - - There were none to tell of its race or kin. - “God knoweth,” the pastor said, - When the wondering children asked of him - The name of the baby dead. - And so, when they laid it away at last - In the church-yard’s hushed repose, - They raised a stone at the baby’s head, - With the carven words, “God knows.” - - -THE MOUNTAIN ROAD - - Only a glimpse of mountain road - That followed where a river flowed; - Only a glimpse—then on we passed - Skirting the forest dim and vast. - - I closed my eyes. On rushed the train - Into the dark, then out again, - Startling the song-birds as it flew - The wild ravines and gorges through. - - But, heeding not the dangerous way - O’erhung by sheer cliffs, rough and gray, - I only saw, as in a dream, - The road beside the mountain stream. - - No smoke curled upward in the air, - No meadow-lands stretched broad and fair; - But towering peaks rose far and high, - Piercing the clear, untroubled sky. - - Yet down the yellow, winding road - That followed where the river flowed, - I saw a long procession pass - As shadows over bending grass. - - The young, the old, the sad, the gay, - Whose feet had worn that narrow way, - Since first within the dusky glade - Some Indian lover wooed his maid; - - Or silent crept from tree to tree— - Spirit of stealthy vengeance, he! - Or breathless crouched while through the brake - The wild deer stole his thirst to slake. - - The barefoot school-boys rushing out, - An eager, crowding, roisterous rout; - The sturdy lads; the lassies gay - As bobolinks in merry May; - - The farmer whistling to his team - When first the dawn begins to gleam; - The loaded wains that one by one - Drag slowly home at set of sun; - - Young lovers straying hand in hand - Within a fair, enchanted land; - And many a bride with lingering feet; - And many a matron calm and sweet; - - And many an old man bent with pain; - And many a solemn funeral train; - And sometimes, red against the sky, - An army’s banners waving high! - - All mysteries of life and death - To which the spirit answereth, - Are thine, O lonely mountain road, - That followed where the river flowed! - - -ENTERING IN - - The church was dim and silent - With the hush before the prayer, - Only the solemn trembling - Of the organ stirred the air; - Without, the sweet, still sunshine; - Within, the holy calm - Where priest and people waited - For the swelling of the psalm. - - Slowly the door swung open, - And a trembling baby girl, - Brown-eyed, with brown hair falling - In many a wavy curl, - With soft cheeks flushing hotly, - Shy glances downward thrown, - And small hands clasped before her, - Stood in the aisle alone. - - Stood half abashed, half frightened, - Unknowing where to go, - While like a wind-rocked flower, - Her form swayed to and fro, - And the changing color fluttered - In the little troubled face, - As from side to side she wavered - With a mute, imploring grace. - - It was but for a moment; - What wonder that we smiled, - By such a strange, sweet picture - From holy thoughts beguiled? - Then up rose someone softly: - And many an eye grew dim, - As through the tender silence - He bore the child with him. - - And I—I wondered (losing - The sermon and the prayer) - If when sometime I enter - The “many mansions” fair, - And stand, abashed and drooping, - In the portal’s golden glow, - Our God will send an angel - To show me where to go! - - -A FLOWER FOR THE DEAD - - You placed this flower in her hand, you say? - This pure, pale rose in her hand of clay? - Could she but lift her sealèd eyes, - They would meet your own with a grieved surprise! - - She has been your wife for many a year, - When clouds hung low and when skies were clear; - At your feet she laid her life’s glad spring, - And her summer’s glorious blossoming. - - Her whole heart went with the hand you won; - If its warm love waned as the years went on, - If it chilled in the grasp of an icy spell, - What was the reason? I pray you tell! - - You cannot? I can; and beside her bier - My soul must speak and your soul must hear. - If she was not all that she might have been, - Hers was the sorrow, yours the sin. - - Whose was the fault if she did not grow - Like a rose in the summer? Do you know? - Does a lily grow when its leaves are chilled? - Does it bloom when its root is winter-killed? - - For a little while, when you first were wed, - Your love was like sunshine round her shed; - Then a something crept between you two, - You led where she could not follow you. - - With a man’s firm tread you went and came; - You lived for wealth, for power, for fame; - Shut in to her woman’s work and ways, - She heard the nation chant your praise. - - But ah! you had dropped her hand the while; - What time had you for a kiss, a smile? - You two, with the same roof overhead, - Were as far apart as the sundered dead! - - You, in your manhood’s strength and prime; - She, worn and faded before her time. - ’Tis a common story. This rose, you say, - You laid in her pallid hand to-day? - - When did you give her a flower before? - Ah, well!—what matter when all is o’er? - Yet stay a moment; you’ll wed again. - I mean no reproach; ’tis the way of men. - - But I pray you think when some fairer face - Shines like a star from her wonted place, - That love will starve if it is not fed; - That true hearts pray for their daily bread. - - -THOU KNOWEST - - Thou knowest, O my Father! Why should I - Weary high heaven with restless prayers and tears? - Thou knowest all! My heart’s unuttered cry - Hath soared beyond the stars and reached Thine ears. - - Thou knowest—ah, Thou knowest! Then what need, - O, loving God, to tell Thee o’er and o’er, - And with persistent iteration plead - As one who crieth at some closèd door? - - “Tease not!” we mothers to our children say— - “Our wiser love will grant whate’er is best.” - Shall we, Thy children, run to Thee alway, - Begging for this and that in wild unrest? - - I dare not clamor at the heavenly gate, - Lest I should lose the high, sweet strains within; - O, Love Divine! I can but stand and wait - Till Perfect Wisdom bids me enter in! - - -WINTER - - O my roses, lying underneath the snow! - Do you still remember summer’s warmth and glow? - Do you thrill, remembering how your blushes burned - When the Day-god on you ardent glances turned? - - Great tree, wildly stretching bare arms up to heaven, - Do you think how softly, on some warm June even, - All your young leaves whispered, all your birds sang low, - As with rhythmic motion boughs swayed to and fro? - - River, lying whitely in a frozen sleep, - Know you how your pulses used to throb and leap? - How you danced and sparkled on your happy way, - In the summer mornings when the world was gay? - - Dear Earth, dumbly waiting God’s appointed time, - Are you faint with longing for the voice sublime? - Wrapped in stony silence, does your great heart beat, - Listening in the darkness for the coming of His feet? - - -FIVE - - “But a week is so long!” he said, - With a toss of his curly head. - “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!— - Seven whole days! Why, in six you know - (You said it yourself—you told me so) - The great GOD up in heaven - Made all the earth and the seas and skies, - The trees and the birds and the butterflies! - How can I wait for my seeds to grow!” - - “But a month is so long!” he said, - With a droop of his boyish head. - “Hear me count—one, two, three, four— - Four whole weeks, and three days more; - Thirty-one days, and each will creep - As the shadows crawl over yonder steep. - Thirty-one nights, and I shall lie - Watching the stars climb up the sky! - How can I wait till a month is o’er?” - - “But a year is so long!” he said, - Uplifting his bright young head. - “All the seasons must come and go - Over the hills with footsteps slow— - Autumn and winter, summer and spring; - Oh, for a bridge of gold to fling - Over the chasm deep and wide, - That I might cross to the other side, - Where she is waiting—my love, my bride!” - - “Ten years may be long,” he said, - Slow raising his stately head, - “But there’s much to win, there is much to lose; - A man must labor, a man must choose, - And he must be strong to wait! - The years may be long, but who would wear - The crown of honor, must do and dare! - No time has he to toy with fate - Who would climb to manhood’s high estate!” - - “Ah! life is not long!” he said, - Bowing his grand white head. - “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven! - Seven times ten are seventy. - Seventy years! as swift their flight - As swallows cleaving the morning light, - Or golden gleams at even. - Life is short as a summer night— - How long, O GOD! is eternity?” - - -UNSOLVED - - ’Tis the old unanswered question! Since the stars together sung, - In the glory of the morning, when the earth was fair and young, - - Man hath asked it o’er and over, of the heavens so far and high, - And from out the mystic silence never voice hath made reply! - - Yet again to-night I ask it, though I know, O friend of mine, - There will come, to all my asking, never answering voice of thine. - - Ah! how many times the grasses have grown green above thy grave, - And how many times above it have we heard the cold winds rave! - - Thou hast solved the eternal problem that the ages hold in fee; - Thou dost know what we but dream of; where we marvel, thou dost see. - - What is truth, and what is fable; what the prophets saw who trod - In their rapt, ecstatic visions up the holy mount of God! - - Not of these high themes I question—but, O friend, I fain would know - How beyond the silent river all the long years come and go! - - Where they are, our well-belovèd, who have vanished from our sight, - As the stars fade out of heaven at the dawning of the light; - - How they live and how they love there, in the “somewhere” of our - dreams; - In the “city lying four-square” by the everlasting streams! - - Oh, the mystery of being! Which is better, life or death? - Thou hast tried them both, O comrade, yet thy voice ne’er answereth! - - Hast thou grown as grow the angels? Doth thy spirit still aspire - As the flame that soareth upward, mounting higher still, and higher? - - In the flush of early manhood all thy earthly days were done; - Short thy struggle and endeavor ere the peace of heaven was won. - - But for us who stayed behind thee—oh! our hands are worn with toil, - And upon our souls, it may be, are the stains of earthly moil. - - Hast thou kept the lofty beauty and the glory of thy youth? - Dost thou see our temples whitening, smiling softly in thy ruth? - - But for us who bear the burdens that you dropped so long ago, - All the cares you have forgotten, and the pains you missed, we know. - - Yet—the question still remaineth! Which is better, death or life? - The not doing, or the doing? Joy of calm, or joy of strife? - - Which is better—to be saved from temptation and from sin, - Or to wrestle with the dragon and the glorious fight to win? - - Ah! we know not, but God knoweth! All resolves itself to this— - That He gave to us the warfare, and to thee the heavenly bliss. - - It was best for thee to go hence in the morning of the day; - Till the evening shadows lengthen it is best for us to stay! - - -QUIETNESS - - I would be quiet, Lord, - Nor tease, nor fret; - Not one small need of mine - Wilt Thou forget. - - I am not wise to know - What most I need; - I dare not cry too loud - Lest Thou shouldst heed: - - Lest Thou at length shouldst say, - “Child, have thy will; - As thou hast chosen, lo! - Thy cup I fill!” - - What I most crave, perchance - Thou wilt withhold, - As we from hands unmeet - Keep pearls, or gold; - - As we, when childish hands - Would play with fire, - Withhold the burning goal - Of their desire. - - Yet choose Thou for me—Thou - Who knowest best; - This one short prayer of mine - Holds all the rest! - - -THE DIFFERENCE - - Only a week ago and thou wert here! - I touched thy hand, I saw thy dear, dark eyes, - I kissed thy tender lips, I felt thee near, - I spake, and listened to thy low replies. - - To-day what leagues between us! Hill and vale, - The rolling prairies and the mighty seas; - Gray forest reaches where the wild winds wail, - And mountain crests uplifted to the breeze! - - So far thou art, who wert of late so near! - The stars we watched have changed not in the skies; - Still do thy hyacinth bells their beauty wear, - Yet half a continent between us lies! - - But swift as thought along the “singing wires” - There flies a message like a bright-winged bird— - “All’s well! All’s well!” and ne’er from woodland choirs - By gladder music hath the air been stirred! - - * * * * * - - But thou, O thou, who but a week ago - Passed calmly out beyond our yearning gaze, - As some grand ship, all solemnly and slow, - Sails out of sight beyond the gathering haze— - - Oh, where art _thou_? In what far distant realm, - What star in yon resplendent fields of light, - On what fair isle that no rude seas may whelm, - Dost thou, O brother, find thy home to-night? - - Or art thou near us? There are those who say - That but a breath divides our world from thine; - A little cloud that may be blown away— - A gossamer veil than spider’s web more fine. - - Dost thou, a shadowy presence, linger near - The happy paths that thou wert wont to tread, - Where woods were still, and shining brooks ran clear, - And waving boughs arched greenly overhead? - - Oh! be thou far or near, it is the same! - From thee there floats no message thro’ the air; - No glad “All’s well” comes to us in thy name - That we the joy of thy new life may share! - - -MY BIRTHDAY - - My birthday!—“How many years ago? - Twenty or thirty?” Don’t ask me! - “Forty or fifty?”—How can I tell? - I do not remember my birth, you see! - - It is hearsay evidence—nothing more! - Once on a time, the legends say, - A girl was born—and that girl was I. - How can I vouch for the truth, I pray? - - I know I am here, but when I came - Let some one wiser than I am tell! - Did this sweet flower you plucked for me - Know when its bud began to swell? - - How old am I? You ought to know - Without any telling of mine, my dear! - For when I came to this happy earth - Were you not waiting for me here? - - A dark-eyed boy on the northern hills, - Chasing the hours with flying feet, - Did you not know your wife was born, - By a subtile prescience, faint yet sweet? - - Did never a breath from the south-land come, - With sunshine laden and rare perfume, - To lift your hair with a soft caress, - And waken your heart to richer bloom? - - Not one? O mystery strange as life! - To think that we who are now so dear - Were once in our dreams so far apart, - Nor cared if the other were far or near! - - But—how old am I? You must tell. - Just as old as I seem to you! - Nor shall I a day older be - While life remaineth and love is true! - - -A RED ROSE - - O Rose, my red, red Rose, - Where has thy beauty fled? - Low in the west is a sea of fire, - But the great white moon soars high and higher, - As my garden walks I tread. - - Thy white rose-sisters gleam - Like stars in the darkening sky; - They bend their brows with a sudden thrill - To the kiss of the night-dews soft and still, - When the warm south wind floats by. - - And the stately lilies stand - Fair in the silvery light, - Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer; - Their pure breath sanctifies the air, - As its fragrance fills the night. - - But O, my red, red Rose! - My Rose with the crimson lips! - So bright thou wert in the sunny morn, - Yet now thou art hiding all forlorn, - And thy soul is in drear eclipse! - - Dost thou mourn thy lover dead— - Thy lover, the lordly Sun? - Didst thou see him sink in the glowing west - With pomp of banners above his rest? - He shall rise again, sweet one! - - He shall rise with his eye of fire— - And thy passionate heart shall beat, - And thy radiant blushes burn again, - With the joy of rapture after pain - At the coming of his feet! - - -TWENTY-ONE - - Grown to man’s stature! O my little child! - My bird that sought the skies so long ago! - My fair, sweet blossom, pure and undefiled, - How have the years flown since we laid thee low! - - What have they been to thee? If thou wert here - Standing beside thy brothers, tall and fair, - With bearded lip, and dark eyes shining clear, - And glints of summer sunshine in thy hair, - - I should look up into thy face and say, - Wavering, perhaps, between a tear and smile, - “O my sweet son, thou art a man to-day!”— - And thou wouldst stoop to kiss my lips the while. - - But—up in heaven—how is it with thee, dear? - Art thou a man—to man’s full stature grown? - Dost thou count time as we do, year by year? - And what of all earth’s changes hast thou known? - - Thou hadst not learned to love me. Didst thou take - Any small germ of love to heaven with thee, - That thou hast watched and nurtured for my sake, - Waiting till I its perfect flower may see? - - What is it to have lived in heaven always? - To have no memory of pain or sin? - Ne’er to have known in all the calm, bright days, - The jar and fret of earth’s discordant din? - - Thy brothers—they are mortal—they must tread - Ofttimes in rough, hard ways, with bleeding feet; - Must fight with dragons, must bewail their dead, - And fierce Apollyon face to face must meet. - - I, who would give my very life for theirs, - I cannot save them from earth’s pain or loss; - I cannot shield them from its griefs or cares; - Each human heart must bear alone its cross! - - Was God, then, kinder unto thee than them, - O thou whose little life was but a span?— - Ah, think it not! In all his diadem - No star shines brighter than the kingly man, - - Who nobly earns whatever crown he wears, - Who grandly conquers, or as grandly dies; - And the white banner of his manhood bears, - Through all the years uplifted to the skies! - - What lofty pæans shall the victor greet! - What crown resplendent for his brow be fit! - O child, if earthly life be bitter-sweet, - Hast thou not something missed in missing it? - - -SINGING IN THE DARK - - O ye little warblers, flying fast and far - From the balmy south-land, where the roses are, - Robins red and blue-birds, do ye faint to see - How the chill snow-blossoms whiten shrub and tree? - - Through the snowy valley cold the north winds sweep; - Mother earth, half-wakened, turns again to sleep; - Silent lies the river in an icy trance, - And the frozen meadows wait the sun’s hot glance. - - Dull and gray the skies are. Soft and blue were those - That so late above you bent at daylight’s close; - Do ye grieve, remembering all the balm and bloom, - All the warmth and sweetness of the starlit gloom? - - Do ye sadly wonder what strange impulse drew - All your flashing pinions the far ether through? - Do ye count it madness that so wide ye strayed - From the starry jasmine and the orange shade? - - Yet this morn I heard ye singing in the dark, - Songs of such rare sweetness that the world might hark! - O ye blessed minstrels, silent not for pain, - God is in the heavens, and your sun shall shine again! - - - THOMAS MOORE - MAY 28, 1779-1879 - - - Hush! O be ye silent, all ye birds of May! - Cease the high, clear trilling of your roundelay! - Be the merry minstrels mute in vale, on hill, - And in every tree-top let the song be still! - - O ye winds, breathe softly! Let your voices die - In a low, faint whisper, sweet as love’s first sigh; - O ye zephyrs, blowing over beds of flowers, - Be ye still as dews are in the starry hours! - - O ye laughing waters, leaping here and there, - Filling with sweet clamor all the summer air, - Can ye not be quiet? Hush, ye mountain streams, - Dancing to glad music from the world of dreams! - - And thou, mighty ocean, beating on the shore, - Bid thy angry billows stay their thunderous roar! - O ye waves, lapse softly, in such slumberous calm - As ye know when circling isles of crested palm! - - Bells in tower and steeple, be ye mute to-day - As the bell-flowers rocking in the winds of May! - Cease awhile, ye minstrels, though your notes be clear - As the strains that soar in heaven’s high atmosphere! - - Earth, bid all thy children hearken—for a voice, - Sweeter than a seraph’s, bids their hearts rejoice; - Floating down the silence of a hundred years, - Lo! its deathless music thrills our listening ears! - - ’Tis the voice our fathers loved so long ago, - Songs to which they listened warbling clear and low; - Hark, “Ye Disconsolate!” while the minstrel pure - Sings—“Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure!” - - Sings of love’s wild rapture triumphing o’er pain, - Glorying in giving, counting loss but gain; - Sings the warrior’s passion and the patriot’s pride, - And the brave, unshrinking, who for glory died— - - Sings of Erin smiling through a mist of tears; - Of her patient waiting all the weary years; - Sings the pain of parting, and the joy divine - When the bliss of meeting stirs the heart like wine; - - Sings of memories waking in “the stilly night;” - Of the “young dreams” fading in the morning light; - Of the “rose of summer” perishing too soon; - Of the early splendors waning ere the noon! - - O thou tender singer! All the air to-day - Trembles with the burden of thy “farewell” lay; - Crowns and thrones may crumble, into darkness hurled, - Yet is song immortal; song shall rule the world! - - -A LAST WORD - - Where will it go to reach thine ears - My father, thou dost wear - Somewhere beyond the stars to-night - Thy crown of silver hair. - - Somewhere thou _art_. No wandering ghost - In vast, vague realms of space— - But thine own self, majestic, fair, - In thine appointed place. - - By one long look thy soul replied - When last I cried to thee, - As thou wert drifting out of sight - Upon the unknown sea; - - And well I know that thou wouldst turn - Even from joys divine, - If but thy listening ears could hear - One faltering word of mine. - - Yet, knowing this, I cannot lay - My book upon thy knee, - Saying, “O father, once again - I bring my sheaves to thee!” - - - - -SONNETS - - -THE SONNET - - -I. TO A CRITIC - - - “It is but cunning artifice,” you say? - “To it no throb of nature answereth? - It hath no living pulse, no vital breath, - This puppet, fashioned in an elder day, - Through whose strait lips no heart can cry or pray?” - O deaf and blind of soul, these words that saith! - If that thine ear is dull, what hindereth - That quicker ears should hear the bugles play - And the trump call to battle? Since the stars - First sang together, and the exulting skies - Thrilled to their music, earth hath never heard, - Above the tumult of her worldly jars, - Or loftier songs or prayers than those that rise - Where the high sonnet soareth like a bird! - - -II. TO A POET - - Thou who wouldst wake the sonnet’s silver lyre, - Make thine hands clean! Then, as on eagles’ wings, - Above the soiling touch of sordid things, - Bid thy soul soar till, mounting high and higher, - It feels the glow of pure celestial fire, - Bathes in clear light, and hears the song that rings - Through heaven’s high arches when some angel brings - Gifts to the Throne, on wings that never tire! - It hath a subtile music, strangely sweet, - Yet all unmeet for dance or roundelay, - Or idle love that fadeth like a flower. - It is the voice of hearts that strongly beat, - The cry of souls that grandly love and pray, - The trumpet-peal that thrills the battle-hour! - - -AT REST - - “‘When Greek meets Greek,’ you know,” he sadly said, - “‘Then comes the tug of war.’ I deem him great, - And own him wise and good. Yet adverse fate - Hath made us enemies. If I were dead, - And buried deep with grave-mould on my head, - I still believe that, came he soon or late - Where I was lying in my last estate, - My dust would quiver at his lightest tread!” - The slow years passed; and one fair summer night, - When the low sun was reddening all the west, - I saw two grave-mounds, where the grass was bright, - Lying so near each other that the crest - Of the same wave touched each with amber light. - But, ah, dear hearts! how undisturbed their rest! - - -TOO WIDE! - - O mighty Earth, thou art too wide, to wide! - Too vast thy continents, too broad thy seas, - Too far thy prairies stretching fair as these - Now reddening in the sunset’s crimson tide! - Sundered by thee how have thy children cried - Each to some other, until every breeze - Has borne a burden of fond messages - That all unheard in thy lone wastes have died! - Draw closer, O dear Earth, thy hills that soar - Up to blue skies such countless leagues apart! - Bid thou thine awful spaces smaller grow! - Compass thy billows with a narrower shore, - That yearning lips may meet, heart beat to heart, - And parted souls forget their lonely woe! - - - MERCÉDÈS - (June 27, 1878) - - - O fair young queen, who liest dead to-day - In thy proud palace o’er the moaning sea, - With still, white hands that never more may be - Lifted to pluck life’s roses bright with May— - Little is it to you that, far away, - Where skies you knew not bend above the free, - Hearts touched with tender pity turn to thee, - And for thy sake a shadow dims the day! - But youth and love and womanhood are one, - Though across sundering seas their signals fly; - Young Love’s pure kiss, the joy but just begun, - The hope of motherhood, thy people’s cry— - O thou fair child! was it not hard to die - And leave so much beneath the summer sun? - - -GRASS-GROWN - - Grass grows at last above all graves, you say? - Why, therein lies the sharpest sting of all! - To think that stars will rise and dews will fall, - Hills flush with purple splendor, soft winds play - Where roses bloom and violets of May, - Robin to robin in the tree-tops call, - And all sweet sights and sounds the senses thrall, - Just as they did before that strange, sad day! - Does that bring comfort? Are we glad to know - That our eyes sometime must forget to weep, - Even as June forgets December’s snow? - Over the graves where our belovèd sleep, - We charge thee, Time, let not the green grass grow, - Nor your relentless mosses coldly creep! - - -TO ZÜLMA - - -I. - - - Sometimes my heart grows faint with longing, dear— - Longing to see thy face, to touch thy hand. - But mountains rise between us; leagues of land - Stretch on and on where mighty lakes lie clear - In the far spaces, and great forests rear - Their sombre crowns on many a lonely strand! - Yet, O my fair child, canst thou understand, - Thou whose dear place was once beside me here, - How yet I dare not pray that thou and I - Again may dwell together as of old? - There is a gate between us, locked and barred, - Over which we may not climb; and standing nigh - Is the white angel Sorrow, who doth hold - The only key that may unlock its ward! - - -II. - - Yet think not I would have it otherwise! - Our God, who knoweth women’s hearts, knows best— - And every little bird must build its nest - From whence it soareth, singing, to the skies. - What though the one that thou hast builded lies - Where sinks the sun to its enchanted rest, - If, on each breeze that bloweth east or west, - To thee, on swiftest wing, my spirit flies? - We are not far apart, and ne’er shall be! - For Love, like God, knoweth not time, nor space, - And it is freer than the viewless air; - And well I know, belovèd, that if we - Trod different planets in yon starry space - We should reach out, and find each other there! - - -SLEEP - - Who calls thee “gentle Sleep?” O! rare coquette, - Who comest crowned with poppies, thou shouldst wear - Nettles instead, or thistles, in thine hair; - For thou ’rt the veriest elf that ever yet - Made weary mortals sigh and toss and fret! - Thou dost float softly through the drowsy air - Hovering as if to kiss my lips and share - My restless pillow; but ere I can set - My arms to clasp thee, without sign or speech, - Save one swift, mocking smile thou ’rt out of reach! - Yet, sometime, thou, or one as like to thee - As sister is to sister, shalt draw near - With such soft lullabies for my dull ear, - That neither life nor love shall waken me! - - - IN KING’S CHAPEL - (BOSTON, November 3, 1878) - - - O, Lord of Hosts, how sacred is this place, - Where, though the tides of time resistless flow, - And the long generations come and go, - Thou still abidest! In this holy space - The very airs are hushed before Thy face, - And wait in reverent calm, as voices low - Blend in the prayers and chantings, soft and slow, - And the gray twilight stealeth on apace. - Hark! There are whispers from the time-worn walls; - The mighty dead glide up the shadowy aisle; - And there are rustlings as of angels’ wings - While from the choir the heavenly music falls! - Well may we bow in grateful praise the while— - In the King’s Chapel reigns the King of Kings! - - -TO-DAY - - What dost thou bring to me, O fair To-day, - That comest o’er the mountains with swift feet? - All the young birds make haste thy steps to greet, - And all the dewy roses of the May - Turn red and white with joy. The breezes play - On their soft harps a welcome low and sweet; - All nature hails thee, glad thy face to meet, - And owns thy presence in a brighter ray. - But my poor soul distrusts thee! One as fair - As thou art, O To-day, drew near to me, - Serene and smiling, yet she bade me wear - The sudden sackcloth of a great despair! - O, pitiless! that through the wandering air - Sent no kind warning of the ill to be! - - -F. A. F. - - When upon eyes long dim, to whom the light - Of sun and stars had unfamiliar grown— - Eyes that so long in deepening shades had known - The mystic visions of the inner sight— - Day broke, at last, after the weary night, - I cannot think its sudden glory shone - In pitiless brightness, dazzling, clear, and white— - A piercing splendor on the darkness thrown! - Softly as moonlight steals upon the skies, - Slowly as shadows creep at set of sun, - Gently as falls a mother’s tender kiss, - So softly stole the light upon his eyes; - So slowly passed the shadows one by one; - So gently dawned the morning of his bliss! - - -DAY AND NIGHT - - -I. - - When I awake at morn, refreshed, renewed, - Glad with the gladness of the jocund day - And jubilant with all the birds of May, - My spirit shrinks from Night’s dull quietude. - With it and Sleep I have a deadly feud. - I hear the young winds in the maples play, - The river singing on its happy way, - The swallows twittering to their callow brood. - The fresh, fair earth is full of joyous life; - The tree-tops toss in billowy unrest; - The very mountain shadows are astir! - With eager heart I thrill to join the strife; - Doing, not dreaming, to my soul seems best, - And I am lordly Day’s true worshipper! - - -II. - - But when with Day’s long weariness oppressed, - With folded hands I watch the sun go down, - Lighting far torches in the steepled town, - And kindling all the glowing, reddening west; - When every sleepy bird has sought its nest; - When the long shadows from the hills are thrown, - And Night’s soft airs about the world are blown, - Thou heart of mine, how sweet it is to rest! - O, Israfil! Thou of the tuneful voice! - It will be nightfall when thy voice I hear, - Summoning me to slumber soft and low! - Day will be done. Then will I not rejoice - That all my tasks are o’er and rest is near, - And, like a tired child, be glad to go? - - -THY NAME - - What matters it what men may call Thee, Thou, - The Eternal One, who reign’st supreme, alone, - The boundless universe Thy mighty throne? - When souls before Thee reverently bow, - Oh, carest Thou what name the lips breathe low - Jove, or Osiris, or the God Unknown - To whom the Athenians raised their altar stone, - Or Thine, O Holiest, unto whom we vow? - The sun hath many names in many lands; - Yet upon all its golden splendors fall, - Where’er, from age to age entreating still, - The adoring earth uplifts its waiting hands. - Love knows all names and answereth to all— - Who worships Thee may call Thee what he will! - - -RESURGAMUS - - What though we sleep a thousand leagues apart, - I by my mountains, you beside your sea? - What though our moss-grown graves divided be - By the wide reaches of a continent’s heart? - When from long slumber we at length shall start - Wakened to stronger life, exultant, free, - This mortal clothed in immortality, - Where shall I find my heaven save where thou art? - Straight as a bird that hasteth to its nest, - Glad as an eagle soaring to the light, - Swift as the thought that bears my soul to thine - When yon lone star hangs trembling in the west, - So straight, so glad, so swift to thee my flight, - Led on through farthest space by love divine! - - -AT THE TOMB - - O Soul! rememberest thou how Mary went - In the gray dawn to weep beside the tomb - Where one she loved lay buried? Through the gloom, - Pallid with pain, and with long anguish spent, - Still pressed she on with solemn, high intent, - Bearing her costly gifts of rare perfume - And spices odorous with eastern bloom, - Unto the Master’s sepulchre! But rent - Was the great stone from its low door away; - And when she stooped to peer with startled eyes - Into the dark where slept the pallid clay, - Lo, it was gone! And there in heavenly guise, - So grandly calm, so fair in morn’s first ray, - She found an angel from the upper skies! - - -THREE DAYS - - -I. - - What shall I bring to lay upon thy bier - O Yesterday! thou day forever dead? - With what strange garlands shall I crown thy head, - Thou silent One? For rose and rue are near - Which thou thyself didst bring me; heart’s-ease clear - And dark in purple opulence that shed - Rare odors round; wormwood, and herbs that fed - My soul with bitterness—they all are here! - When to the banquet I was called by thee - Thou gavest me rags and royal robes to wear; - Honey and aloes mingled in the cup - Of costly wine that thou didst pour for me; - Thy throne, thy footstool, thou didst bid me share; - On crusts and heavenly manna bade me sup! - - -II. - - Thou art no dreamer, O thou stern To-day! - The dead past had its dreams; the real is thine. - An armored knight, in panoply divine, - It is not thine to loiter by the way, - Though all the meads with summer flowers be gay, - Though birds sing for thee, and though fair stars shine, - And every god pours for thee life’s best wine! - Nor friend nor foe hath strength to bid thee stay. - Gleaming beneath thy brows with smouldering fire - Thine eyes look out upon the eternal hills - As forth thou ridest with thy spear in rest. - From the far heights a voice cries, “Come up higher!” - And in swift answer all thy being thrills, - When lo! ’tis night—thy sun is in the west! - - -III. - - But thou, To-morrow! never yet was born - In earth’s dull atmosphere a thing so fair— - Never yet tripped, with footsteps light as air, - So glad a vision o’er the hills of morn! - Fresh as the radiant dawning—all unworn - By lightest touch of sorrow, or of care, - Thou dost the glory of the morning share - By snowy wings of hope and faith upborne! - O fair To-morrow! what our souls have missed - Art thou not keeping for us, somewhere, still? - The buds of promise that have never blown— - The tender lips that we have never kissed— - The song whose high, sweet strain eludes our skill— - The one white pearl that life hath never known! - - -DARKNESS - - Come, blessed Darkness, come, and bring thy balm - For eyes grown weary of the garish Day! - Come with thy soft, slow steps, thy garments gray, - Thy veiling shadows, bearing in thy palm - The poppy-seeds of slumber, deep and calm! - Come with thy patient stars, whose far-off ray - Steals the hot fever of the soul away, - Thy stillness, sweeter than a chanted psalm! - O blessed Darkness, Day indeed is fair, - And Light is dear when summer days are long, - And one by one the harvesters go by; - But so is rest sweet, and surcease from care, - And folded palms, and hush of evensong, - And all the unfathomed silence of the sky! - - -SILENCE - - O golden Silence, bid our souls be still, - And on the foolish fretting of our care - Lay thy soft touch of healing unaware! - Once, for a half hour, even in heaven the thrill - Of the clear harpings ceased the air to fill - With soft reverberations. Thou wert there, - And all the shining seraphs owned thee fair— - A white, hushed Presence on the heavenly hill. - Bring us thy peace, O Silence! Song is sweet; - Tuneful is baby laughter, and the low - Murmur of dying winds among the trees, - And dear the music of Love’s hurrying feet; - Yet only he who knows thee learns to know - The secret soul of loftiest harmonies. - - -SANCTIFIED - - A holy presence hath been here, and, lo, - The place is sanctified! From off thy feet - Put thou thy shoes, my soul! The air is sweet - Even yet with heavenly odors, and I know - If thou dost listen, thou wilt hear the flow - Of most celestial music, and the beat - Of rhythmic pinions. It is then most meet - That thou shouldst watch and wait, lest to and fro - Should pass the heavenly messengers and thou, - Haply, shouldst miss their coming. O my soul, - Count this fair room a temple from whose shrine, - Led by an angel, though we know not how, - Thy friend and lover dropped the cup of dole, - And passed from thy love to the Love Divine! - - -A MESSAGE - - I bid thee sing the song I would have sung— - The high, pure strain that since my soul was born, - Clearer and sweeter than the bells of morn, - Through all its chambers hath divinely rung! - In thee let my whole being find a tongue; - Pluck thou the rose where I have plucked the thorn, - Nor leave the perfect flower to fade forlorn. - Youth holds the world in fee—and thou art young! - O my glad singer of the tuneful voice, - Where my wing falters be thou strong to soar, - Striking the deep, clear notes beyond my reach, - Beyond the plummet of a woman’s speech. - Sing my songs for me, and from some far shore - My happy soul shall hear thee and rejoice! - - -WHEN LESSER LOVES - - When lesser loves by the relentless flow - Of mighty currents from my arms were torn - And swept, unheeding, to that silent bourn - Whose mystic shades no living man may know, - By night, by day, I sang my songs; and so, - Out of the sackcloth that my soul had worn, - Weaving my purple, I forgot to mourn, - Pouring my grief out in melodious woe! - Now am I dumb, dear heart. My lips are mute. - Yet if from yonder blue height thou dost lean - Earthward, remembering love’s last wordless kiss, - Know thou no trembling thrills of harp or lute, - Dying soft wails and tender songs between, - Were half so voiceful as this silence is! - - -GEORGE ELIOT - - Pass on, O world, and leave her to her rest! - Brothers, be silent while the drifting snow - Weaves its white pall above her, lying low - With empty hands crossed idly on her breast. - O sisters, let her sleep! while unrepressed - Your pitying tears fall silently and slow, - Washing her spotless, in their crystal flow, - Of that one stain whereof she stands confessed. - Are we so pure that we should scoff at her, - Or mock her now, low lying in her tomb? - God knows how sharp the thorn her roses wore, - Even what time their petals were astir - In the warm sunshine, odorous with perfume. - Leave her to Him who weighed the cross she bore! - - -KNOWING - - One summer day, to a young child I said, - “Write to thy mother, boy.” With earnest face, - And laboring fingers all unused to trace - The mystic characters, he bent his head - (That should have danced amid the flowers instead) - Over the blurred page for a half-hour’s space; - Then with a sigh that burdened all the place - Cried, “Mamma knows!” and out to sunshine sped. - O soul of mine, when tasks are hard and long, - And life so crowds thee with its stress and strain - That thou, half fainting, art too tired to pray, - Drink thou this wine of blessing and be strong! - God knows! What though the lips be dumb with pain, - Or the pen drops? He knows what thou wouldst say. - - - A THOUGHT - (SUGGESTED BY READING “A MIRACLE IN STONE”) - - - Oh, thou supreme, all-wise, eternal One, - Thou who art Lord of lords, and King of kings, - In whose high praise each flaming seraph sings; - Thou at whose word the morning stars begun - With song and shout their glorious course to run; - Thou unto whom the great sea lifts its wings, - And earth, with laden hands, rich tribute brings - From every shore that smiles beneath the sun; - Thou who didst write thy name upon the hills - And bid the mountains speak for thee alway, - Yet gave sweet messages to murmuring rills, - And to each flower that breathes its life away— - Oh! dost thou smile, or frown, when man’s conceit - Seeks in this pile of stone the impress of thy feet? - - -TO-MORROW - - -I. - - Mysterious One, inscrutable, unknown, - A silent Presence, with averted face - Whose lineaments no mortal eye can trace, - And robes of trailing darkness round thee thrown, - Over the midnight hills thou comest alone! - What thou dost bring to me from farthest space, - What blessing or what ban, what dole, what grace, - I may not know. Thy secrets are thine own! - Yet, asking not for lightest word or sign - To tell me what the hidden fate may be, - Without a murmur, or a quickened breath, - Unshrinkingly I place my hand in thine, - And through the shadowy depths go forth with thee - To meet, as thou shalt lead, or life, or death! - - -II. - - Then, if I fear not thee, thou veilèd One - Whose face I know not, why fear I to meet - Beyond the everlasting hills her feet - Who cometh when all Yesterdays are done? - Shall I, who have proved thee good, thy sister shun? - O thou To-morrow, who dost feel the beat - Of life’s long, rhythmic pulses, strong and sweet, - In the far realm that hath no need of sun— - Thou who art fairer than the fair To-day - That I have held so dear, and loved so much— - When, slow descending from the hills divine, - Thou summonest me to join thee on thy way, - Let me not shrink nor tremble at thy touch, - Nor fear to break thy bread and drink thy wine! - - -“O EARTH! ART THOU NOT WEARY?” - - O Earth! art thou not weary of thy graves? - Dear, patient mother Earth, upon thy breast - How are they heaped from farthest east to west! - From the dim north, where the wild storm-wind raves - O’er the cold surge that chills the shore it laves, - To sunlit isles by softest seas caressed, - Where roses bloom alway and song-birds nest, - How thick they lie—like flecks upon the waves! - There is no mountain-top so far and high, - No desert so remote, no vale so deep, - No spot by man so long untenanted, - But the pale moon, slow marching up the sky, - Sees over some lone grave the shadows creep! - O Earth! art thou not weary of thy dead? - - -ALEXANDER - - There was a man whom all men called The Great. - Low lying on his death-bed, we are told, - He bade his courtiers (when he should be cold, - Breathless, and silent in his last estate, - And they who were to bury him should wait - Outside the palace) that no cerecloth’s fold - Or winding-sheet should round his hands be rolled: - Those helpless hands that once had ruled the state! - Thus spake he: “On the black pall let them lie, - Empty and lorn, that all the world may see - How of his riches there was nothing left - To Alexander when he came to die.” - Lord of two worlds, as treasureless was he - As any beggar of his crust bereft! - - - THE PLACE - “I GO TO PREPARE A PLACE FOR YOU” - - -I. - - O Holy Place, we know not where thou art! - Though one by one our well-beloved dead - From our close claspings to thy bliss have fled, - They send no word back to the breaking heart; - And if, perchance, their angels fly athwart - The silent reaches of the abyss wide-spread, - The swift white-wings we see not, but instead - Only the dark void keeping us apart. - Where did he set thee, O thou Holy Place? - Made he a new world in the heavens high hung, - So far from this poor earth that even yet - Its first glad rays have traversed not the space - That lies between us, nor their glory flung - On the old home its sons can ne’er forget? - - -II. - - But what if on some fair, auspicious night, - Like that on which the shepherds watched of old, - Down from far skies, in burning splendor rolled, - Shall stream the radiance of a star more bright - Than ever yet hath shone on mortal sight— - Swift shafts of light, like javelins of gold, - Wave after wave of glory manifold, - From zone to zenith flooding all the height? - And what if, moved by some strange inner sense, - Some instinct, than pure reason wiser far, - Some swift clairvoyance that annulleth space, - All men shall cry, with sudden joy intense, - “Behold, behold this new resplendent star— - Our heaven at last revealed!—the Place! the Place!” - - -III. - - Then shall the heavenly host with one accord - Veil their bright faces in obeisance meet, - While swift they haste the Glorious One to greet. - Then shall Orion own at last his Lord, - And from his belt unloose the blazing sword, - While pale proud Ashtaroth with footsteps fleet, - Her jewelled crown drops humbly at his feet, - And Lyra strikes her harp’s most rapturous chord. - O Earth, bid all your lonely isles rejoice! - Break into singing, all ye silent hills; - And ye, tumultuous seas, make quick reply! - Let the remotest desert find a voice! - The whole creation to its centre thrills, - For the new light of Heaven is in the sky! - - -TO A GODDESS - - Lift up thy torch, O Goddess, grand and fair! - Let its light stream across the waiting seas - As banners float upon the yielding breeze - From the king’s tent, his presence to declare. - And as his heralds haste to do their share, - Shouting his praise and sounding his decrees, - So let the waves in loftiest symphonies - Proclaim thy glory to the listening air! - Thou star-crowned one, the nations watch for thee, - For thee the patient earth has waited long— - To thee her toiling millions stretch their hands - From the far hills and o’er the rolling sea. - Lift up thy torch, O beautiful and strong, - A beacon-light to earth’s remotest lands. - - - O. W. H. - (August 29, 1809.) - - - “How shall I crown this child?” fair Summer cried. - “May wasted all her violets long ago; - No longer on the hills June’s roses glow, - Flushing with tender bloom the pastures wide. - My stately lilies one by one have died: - The clematis is but a ghost—and lo! - In the fair meadow-lands no daisies blow; - How shall I crown this Summer child?” she sighed. - Then quickly smiled. “For him, for him,” she said, - “On every hill my golden-rod shall flame, - Token of all my prescient soul foretells. - His shall be golden song and golden fame— - Long golden years with love and honor wed— - And crowns, at last, of silver immortelles!” - - - GIFTS FOR THE KING - (H. W. L., February 27th) - - - What good gifts can we bring to thee, O King, - O royal poet, on this day of days? - No golden crown, for thou art crowned with bays; - No jewelled sceptre, and no signet ring, - O’er distant realms far-flashing rays to fling; - For well we know thy beckoning finger sways - A mightier empire, and the world obeys. - No lute, for thou hast only need to sing; - No rare perfumes, for thy pure life makes sweet - The air about thee, even as when the rose - Swings its bright censer down the garden-path. - Love drops its fragrant lilies at thy feet; - Fame breathes thy name to each sweet wind that blows. - What can we bring to him who all things hath? - - - RECOGNITION - (H. W. L.) - - -I. - - Who was the first to bid thee glad all-hail, - O friend and master? Who with wingèd feet - Over the heavenly hills flew, fast and fleet, - To bring thee welcome from beyond the veil? - The mighty bards of old?—Thy Dante, pale - With high thoughts even yet, Virgil the sweet, - Old Homer, trumpet-tongued, and Chaucer, meet - To clasp thy stainless hand? What nightingale - Of all that sing in heaven sang first to thee? - Through all the hallelujahs didst thou hear - Spencer still pouring his melodious lays, - Majestic Milton’s clarion, strong and free, - Or, golden link between the far and near, - Bryant’s clear chanting of the eternal days? - - -II. - - Nay, but not these! not these! Even though apace, - Long rank on rank, with swift yet stately tread - They came to meet thee—the immortal dead— - Yet Love ran faster! All the lofty place, - All the wide, luminous, enchanted space - Glistened with Shining Ones who thither sped— - The countless host thy song had comforted! - What light, what love illumed each radiant face! - The Rachels thou hadst sung to in the dark, - The Davids who for Absaloms had wept, - The fainting ones who drank thy balm and wine, - High souls that soared with thee as soars the lark, - Children who named thee, smiling, ere they slept— - These gave thee first the heavenly countersign! - - - SHAKESPEARE - (April 23, 1664-1889) - - - Nay, Master, dare we speak? O mighty shade, - Sitting enthroned where awful splendors are, - Beyond the light of sun, or moon, or star, - How shall we breathe thy high name undismayed? - Poet, in royal majesty arrayed, - Walking with mute gods through the realms afar— - Seer, whose wide vision time nor death can bar, - We would but kiss thy feet, abashed, afraid! - But yet we love thee, and great love is bold. - Love, O our master, with his heart of flame - And eye of fire, dares even to look on thee, - For whom the ages lift their gates of gold; - And his glad tongue shall syllable thy name - Till time is lost in God’s unsounded sea! - - - TO E. C. S. - WITH A ROSE FROM CONWAY CASTLE - - - On hoary Conway’s battlemented height, - O poet-heart, I pluck for thee a rose! - Through arch and court the sweet wind wandering goes; - Round each high tower the rooks, in airy flight, - Circle and wheel, all bathed in amber light; - Low at my feet the winding river flows; - Valley and town, entranced in deep repose, - War doth no more appall, nor foes affright! - Thou knowest how softly on the castle walls, - Where mosses creep, and ivys far and free - Fling forth their pennants to the freshening breeze, - Like God’s own benizon this sunshine falls. - Therefore, O friend, across the sundering seas - Fair Conway sends this sweet wild rose to thee! - - -A CHRISTMAS SONNET - - I wake at midnight from a slumber deep. - Hark! are the clear stars singing? Sweet and low, - As from far skies, floats music’s liquid flow, - Waking earth’s happy children from their sleep. - Now, from the bells a myriad voices leap, - And all the brazen lilies are aglow - With rapturous heart-beats, swinging to and fro - As the glad chimes their rhythmic pulsing keep. - O soul of mine, join thou the high refrain - That rings from shore to shore, from sea to sea, - Like song of birds that do but soar and sing! - O heart of mine, what room hast thou for pain? - With love and joy make holy symphony, - And keep to-day the birthday of thy King! - - -POVERTY - - The city woke. Down the long market-place - Her sad eyes wandered, but no tears they shed. - In her bare home a little child lay dead; - Yet she was here, with white, impassive face, - And hands that had no beauty and no grace, - Selling her small wares for a bit of bread! - Since they who live must eat though sore bestead - What time had she to weep—what breathing space? - Poor even in words, she had no fitting phrase - Wherein to tell the story of her dole, - But stood, like Niobe, a thing of stone, - Or mutely went on her accustomed ways, - Or counted her small gains, while her dumb soul, - Shut in with grief, could only make its moan! - - -SURPRISES - - -I. - - O Earth, that had so long in darkness lain, - Waiting and listening for the Voice that cried, - “Let there be light!”—on thy first eventide - What woe, what fear, wrung thy dumb soul with pain! - In darkling space down dropt the red sun, slain, - With all his banners drooping. Far and wide - Spread desolation’s vast and blackening tide. - How couldst thou know that day would dawn again? - But the long hours wore on, till lo! pale gleams - Of faint, far glory lit the eastern skies, - Broadening and reddening till the sun’s full beams - Broke in clear, golden splendor on thine eyes. - Darkness and brooding anguish were but dreams, - Lost in a trembling wonder of surprise! - - -II. - - Even so, O Life, all tremulous with woe, - Thou too didst cower when, without sound or jar, - From the high zenith sinking fast and far, - Thy sun went out of heaven! How couldst thou know - In that dark hour, that never tide could flow - So ebon-black, nor ever mountain-bar - Breast night so deep, without or moon or star, - But that the morning yet again must glow? - God never leaves thee in relentless dark. - Slowly the dawn on unbelieving eyes - Breaketh at last. Day brightens—and, oh hark! - A flood of bird-song from the tender skies! - From storm and darkness thou hast found an ark, - Shut in with this great marvel of surprise! - - - C. H. R. - (LOST OFF HAI-MUN IN THE CHINA SEA) - - - In what wide Wonderland, or near, or far, - Press on to-day thy swift adventurous feet— - Thou who wert wont the Orient skies to greet - With song and laughter, and to climb the bar - Of mountain ranges where the Cloud-gods are, - With brave, glad steps, as eager and as fleet - As a young lover’s, who, on errand sweet, - Seeks the one face that is his guiding star? - The far blue seas engulfed thee, oh! my brother, - But could not quench thy spirit’s lofty fire, - Nor daunt the soul that knew not how to quail. - Earth-quest thou didst but barter for another, - Where Alps on Alps before thee still aspire, - And where, in God’s name, thou shalt yet prevail! - - - A NEW BEATITUDE - L. G. W. - - - “A new beatitude I write for thee, - ‘_Blessed are they who are not sure of things_,’ - Nor strive to mount on feeble, finite wings - To heights where God’s strong angels, soaring free, - Halt and are silent.” Ah, the mystery! - To-day, O friend, beyond earth’s reckonings - Of time and space, beyond its jars and stings, - Thou enterest where the eternal secrets be! - Ay, thou art sure to-day! No more the bars - Of earth’s poor limitations hold thee back, - Setting their bounds to thine advancing feet. - Soar, lofty soul, beyond the farthest stars, - Where hope nor yearning e’er shall suffer lack, - Nor knowledge fail to any that entreat! - - -COMPENSATION - - -I. - - Life of my life, do you remember how, - At our fair pleasance gate, a stately tree - Kept silent watch and ward? Majestic, free, - Its head reached heaven, while its lowest bough - Swept the green turf, and all between was row - On row of crested waves—a sleeping sea— - Or heaving billows tossed tumultuously, - When the fierce winds that smote the mountain’s brow - Lashed it to sudden passion. It was old. - Storm-rocked for many centuries, it had grown - One with the hills, the river and the sod; - Yet young it was, with largess of red gold - For every autumn, and from stores unknown - Bringing each springtime treasure-trove to God. - - -II. - - Then came a night of terror and dismay, - Uproar and lightning, with the furious sweep - Of mighty winds, that raged from steep to steep, - And ere it passed the great tree prostrate lay! - Sleepless I mourned until the morning gray; - Then forth I crept, as one who goes to keep - Watch by his dead, too heartsick even to weep, - And hardly daring to behold the day. - Lo! what vast splendor met my startled eyes, - What unimagined space, what vision wide! - Turrets and domes, now blue, now softest green, - In one unbroken circuit kissed the skies; - While, veiled in soft clouds, radiant as a bride, - Shone one far sapphire peak till then unseen! - - -QUESTIONINGS - - Forth from earth’s councils thou hast passed, O friend, - To those high circles where God’s angels are, - Angels that need no light of sun or star! - No eye may follow thee as thou dost wend - Thy lofty way where heaven’s pure heights ascend— - Above the reach of earthly fret or jar, - Where no rude touch the blissful peace can mar, - Where all harsh sounds in one soft concord blend. - What have ye seen, O beauty-loving eyes? - What have ye heard, O ears attuned to hear - And to interpret heaven’s high harmonies? - What problems hast thou solved, thou who with clear - Undaunted gaze didst search the farthest skies? - And dost thou still love on, O heart most dear? - - -REMEMBRANCE - - I do remind me how, when, by a bier, - I looked my last on an unanswering face - Serenely waiting for the grave’s embrace, - One who would fain have comforted said: “Dear, - This is the worst. Life’s bitterest drop is here. - Impartial fate has done you this one grace, - That till you go to your appointed place, - Or soon or late, there is no more to fear.” - It was not true, my soul! it was not true! - “Thou art not lost while I remember thee, - Lover and friend!” I cry, with bated breath. - What if the years, slow-creeping like the blue, - Resistless tide, should blot that face from me? - Not to remember would be worse than death! - - -IN THE HIGH TOWER - - Safe in the high tower of thy love I wait, - Secure and still whatever winds may blow, - Although no more thy banners, bending low, - Salute me from afar, when, all elate, - I haste to meet thee at the postern-gate. - No more I hear thy trumpet’s eager flow - Through the far, listening silence come and go - To greet me where I bide in lonely state. - Thy King hath sent thee on some high emprise, - Some lofty embassage, some noble quest, - To a strange land whence cometh sound nor sign. - Yet evermore I lift my tranquil eyes, - Knowing that Love but doeth Love’s behest— - Afar or near, my dear lord still is mine! - - - - -AFTERNOON SONGS - - -FOUR-O’CLOCKS - - It is mid-afternoon. Long, long ago - Each morning-glory sheathed the slender horn - It blew so gayly on the hills of morn, - And fainted in the noontide’s fervid glow. - - Gone are the dew-drops from the rose’s heart— - Gone with the freshness of the early hours, - The songs that filled the air with silver showers, - The lovely dreams that were of morn a part. - - Yet still in tender light the garden lies; - The warm, sweet winds are whispering soft and low; - Brown bees and butterflies flit to and fro; - The peace of heaven is in the o’erarching skies. - - And here be four-o’clocks, just opening wide - Their many colored petals to the sun, - As glad to live as if the evening dun - Were far away, and morning had not died! - - -A DREAM OF SONGS UNSUNG - - Whence it came I did not know, - How it came I could not tell, - But I heard the music flow - Like the pealing of a bell; - Up and down the wild-wood arches, - Through the sombre firs and larches, - Long I heard it rise and swell; - Long I lay, with half-shut eyes, - Wrapped in dreams of Paradise! - - Then the wondrous music poured - Yet a fuller, stronger strain, - Till my soul in rapture soared - Out of reach of toil and pain! - Then, oh then, I know not how, - Then, oh then, I know not where, - I was borne, serene and slow, - Through the boundless fields of air— - Past the sunset’s golden bars, - Past long ranks of glittering stars, - To a realm where time was not, - And its secrets were forgot! - - Land of shadows, who may know - Where thy golden lilies blow? - Land of shadows, on what star - In the blue depths shining far, - Or in what appointed place - In the unmeasured realms of space, - High as heaven, or deep as hell, - Thou dost lie what tongue can tell? - Send from out thy mystic portals - With the holy chrism to-day, - One of all thy high immortals - Who shall teach me what to say! - - O beloveds, all the air - Was a faint, ethereal mist - Touched with rose and amethyst— - Glints of gold, and here and there - Purple splendors that were gone, - Like the glory of the dawn, - Ere one caught them. Soft and gray, - Lit by many a pearly ray, - Were the low skies bending dim - To the far horizon’s rim; - And the landscape stretched away, - Fair, illusive, like a dream - Wherein all things do but seem! - There were mountains, but they rose - O’er the subtile vale’s repose, - Light as clouds that far and high - Soar to meet the untroubled sky. - There were trees that overhead - Wide their sheltering branches spread, - Yet were empty as the shade - By the quivering vine-leaves made. - There were roses, rich with bloom, - Swinging censers of perfume - Sweet as fragrant winds of May - Blowing through spring’s secret bowers; - Yet so phantom-like were they - That they seemed the ghosts of flowers. - - Oh, the music sweet and strange - In that land’s enchanted range! - Like the pealing of the bells - When the brazen flowers are swinging - And the angelus is ringing, - Soaring, echoing, far and near, - Through the vales and up the dells— - Softly on the enraptured ear - A melodious murmur swells! - As the rhythm of the river - Day and night goes on forever, - So that pulsing stream of song - Rolls its silver waves along. - Even silence is but sound, - Deeper, softer, more profound! - - All the portals were thrown wide! - Stretching far on either side - Ran the streets, like silver mist, - By the moon’s pale splendor kissed; - And adown the shadowy way, - Forth from many a still retreat, - One by one, and two by two, - Or in goodly companies; - Gliding on in long array, - Light and fleet, with silent feet, - One by one, and two by two, - Phantoms that I could not number, - Countless as the wraiths of slumber, - Passed before my wondering eyes! - - Then I grew aware of one - Standing by me in the dun, - Gray half-twilight. All the place - Grew softly radiant; but his face, - Albeit unveiled, I could not see - For the awe that compassed me. - Swift I spoke, by longings swayed - Deeper than my words betrayed: - “Master,” with clasped hands I prayed, - “Who are these? Are they the dead?” - “Nay, they never lived,” he said; - “Whence art thou? How camest thou here?” - Low I answered, then, in fear: - “Sir, I know not; as I lay - Dreaming at the close of day, - Wondrous music, thrilling through me, - To this land of phantoms drew me, - Though I knew not how or why, - Even as instinct draws the bird - Where Spring’s far-off voice is heard. - Tell me, Master, where am I?” - “Thou art in the border-land, - On the farthest, utmost strand - Of the sea that lies between - All that is and is not seen. - Thou art where the wraiths of song - Come and go, a phantom throng. - ’Tis their heart’s melodious beat - Fills the air with whispers sweet! - These, O child, are songs unsung— - Songs unbreathed by human tongue; - These are they that all in vain - Mightiest masters wooed amain— - Children of their heart and brain - That they could not warm to life - By their being’s utmost strife. - Every bard that ever sung - Since the hoary earth was young - Knew the song he could not sing - Was his soul’s best blossoming, - Knew the thought he could not hold - Shrined his spirit’s purest gold. - Look!” - Where rose the city’s gate - In majestic, sculptured state, - From a far-off battle-plain, - Through the javelins’ silver rain - Bearing buckler, lance, and shield, - And their standard’s glittering field, - Eager, yet with shout nor din, - Came a great host trooping in. - Burned their eyes with martial fire, - And the glow of proud desire, - Such as gods and hero’s filled - When their mighty souls were thrilled - By old Homer’s golden lyre! - - Under dim cathedral arches - Pacing sad, pacing slow, - As to beat of funeral marches - Or to music’s rhythmic flow— - With their solemn brows uplifted, - And their hands upon their breasts, - Where the deepest shadows drifted, - One by one pale phantoms pressed. - Lost in dreams of heights supernal, - Mystic dreams of Paradise, - Or of woful depths infernal, - Slow they passed before mine eyes. - Oh, the vision’s pallid splendor! - Oh, the grandeur of their mien— - Kin, by birthright proud and tender, - To the matchless Florentine! - In stately solitude, - Whereon might none intrude— - Majestic, grand and calm, - And bearing each the palm; - Dwelling, serene and fair, - In most enchanted air, - Where softest music crept - O’er harp-strings deftly swept, - And organ-thunders rolled - Like storm-winds through the wold, - They stood in strength sublime - Beyond the bounds of time— - They who had been a part - Of Milton’s mighty heart! - - And where, mysterious ones, - Are Shakespeare’s princely sons, - Bearing in lavish hands - The spoil of many lands? - From castles lifted far - Against the evening star, - Where royal banners float - O’er rampart, tower, and moat, - And the white moonlight sleeps - Upon the Donjon keeps; - From fairy-haunted dells - Among the lonely fells; - From banks where wild thyme grows - And the blue violet blows; - From caverns grim, and caves - Lashed by the deep sea-waves; - From darkling forest shade, - From busy haunts of trade, - From market, court, and camp, - Where folly rings her bells, - Or sorrow tolls her knells, - Or where in cloister cells - The scholar trims his lamp— - Wearing the sword, the gown, - The motley of the clown, - The beggar’s rags, the dole - Of the remorseful soul, - The wedding-robe, the ring, - The shroud’s white blossoming, - O myriad-minded man, - Thus thine immortal clan - Passed down the endless ways - Of the eternal days! - - Then said I to my spirit: - “These are they who wore the crown; - Well the king’s sons may inherit - All his glory and renown. - Where are they—the songs unsung - By the humbler bards whose lyres - Through earth’s lowly vales have rung, - Like the notes of woodland choirs? - They whose silver-sandalled feet - Never climbed the clouds to meet?” - - Where?—The air grew full of laughter - Low and sweet, and following after - Came the softest breath of singing - As if lily bells were ringing; - And from all the happy closes, - Crowned with daisies, crowned with roses, - Bearing woodland ferns for palm-boughs in their hands, - From the dim secluded places, - Through the wide enchanted spaces, - With their song-illumined faces - Swept the shadowy minstrel bands! - - Songs unsung, the high and lowly, - Songs, the holy and unholy, - In that purest air grown wholly - Clean from every spot and stain! - And I knew as endless ages - Still were turning life’s full pages, - Each should find his own again— - Find the song he could not sing, - As his soul’s best blossoming! - - -QUESTIONING A ROSE - - It was fair, it was sweet, - And it blossomed at my feet. - “O thou peerless rose!” I said, - “Art thou heir to roses dead— - Roses that their petals shed - In the winds of long ago? - Who bequeathed to thee the glow - Of thy perfect, radiant heart? - What proud queen of fire and snow - Lived to make thee what thou art? - - Who gave thee thy nameless grace - And the beauty of thy face, - Touched thy lips with fragrant wine, - Pledging thee in cups divine? - On some long-forgotten day, - When earth kept glad holiday, - One bright rose was born, I think, - Dewy, sweet, and soft and pink— - Born, more blest than others are, - To be thy progenitor! - - Oh, the roses that have died - In the unremembered Junes! - Oh, the roses that have sighed - Unto long-forgotten runes! - Dost thou know their secrets dear? - Have they whispered in thine ear - Mysteries of the rain and dew, - And the sunshine that they knew? - Have they told thee how the breeze - Wooed them, and the amorous bees? - - Silent, art thou? Thy repose - Mocks me, yet I fain would know - Art thou kin to one rare rose - Of a summer long ago? - It was sweet, it was fair; - Someone twined it in my hair, - When my young cheek, blushing red, - Shamed the roses, someone said. - Dust and ashes though it be, - Still its soul lives on in thee.” - - -THE FALLOW FIELD - - The sun comes up and the sun goes down; - The night mist shroudeth the sleeping town; - But if it be dark or if it be day, - If the tempests beat or the breezes play, - Still here on this upland slope I lie, - Looking up to the changeful sky. - - Naught am I but a fallow field; - Never a crop my acres yield. - Over the wall at my right hand - Stately and green the corn-blades stand, - And I hear at my left the flying feet - Of the winds that rustle the bending wheat. - - Often while yet the morn is red - I list for our master’s eager tread. - He smiles at the young corn’s towering height, - He knows the wheat is a goodly sight, - But he glances not at the fallow field - Whose idle acres no wealth may yield. - - Sometimes the shout of the harvesters - The sleeping pulse of my being stirs, - And as one in a dream I seem to feel - The sweep and the rush of the swinging steel, - Or I catch the sound of the gay refrain - As they heap their wains with the golden grain. - - Yet, O my neighbors, be not too proud, - Though on every tongue your praise is loud. - Our mother Nature is kind to me, - And I am beloved by bird and bee, - And never a child that passes by - But turns upon me a grateful eye. - - Over my head the skies are blue; - I have my share of the rain and dew; - I bask like you in the summer sun - When the long bright days pass, one by one, - And calm as yours is my sweet repose - Wrapped in the warmth of the winter snows. - - For little our loving mother cares - Which the corn or the daisy bears, - Which is rich with the ripening wheat, - Which with the violet’s breath is sweet, - Which is red with the clover bloom, - Or which for the wild sweet-fern makes room. - - Useless under the summer sky - Year after year men say I lie. - Little they know what strength of mine - I give to the trailing blackberry vine; - Little they know how the wild grape grows, - Or how my life-blood flushes the rose. - - Little they think of the cups I fill - For the mosses creeping under the hill; - Little they think of the feast I spread - For the wild wee creatures that must be fed: - Squirrel and butterfly, bird and bee, - And the creeping things that no eye may see. - - Lord of the harvest, thou dost know - How the summers and winters go. - Never a ship sails east or west - Laden with treasures at my behest, - Yet my being thrills to the voice of God - When I give my gold to the golden-rod. - - -OUT AND IN - - A ship went sailing out to sea, - A gallant ship and gay, - When skies were bright as skies could be, - One sunny morn in May. - The light winds blew, - The white sails flew, - The pennants floated far; - No stain I saw, - Nor any flaw, - From deck to shining spar! - And from the prow, with eager eyes, - Hope gazed afar—to Paradise. - - A ship came laboring in from sea, - One wild December night; - Ah! never ship was borne to lee - In sadder, sorrier plight! - Rent were her sails - By furious gales, - No pennants floated far; - Twisted and torn - And all forlorn - Were shuddering mast and spar! - But from the prow Faith’s steady eyes - Caught the near light of Paradise! - - -HER FLOWERS - - “Nay, nay,” she whispered low, - “I will not have these buds of folded snow, - Nor yet the pallid bloom - Of the chill tuberose, heavy with perfume, - Nor lilies waxen white, - To go with her into the grave’s dark night. - - But now that she is dead - Bring ye the royal roses blushing red, - Roses that on her breast - All summer long, by these pale hands caressed, - Have lain in happy calm, - Breathing their lives away in bloom and balm!” - - Roses for all the joy - Of perfect hours when life had no alloy; - When hope was glad and gay, - And young Love sang his blissful roundelay; - And to her eager eyes - Each new day oped the gates of Paradise. - - But, for that she hath wept, - And over buried hopes long vigil kept, - Bring mystic passion-flowers, - To tell the tale of sacrificial hours - When, lifting up her cross, - She bore it bravely on through pain and loss! - - Then at her blessèd feet, - That never more shall haste on errands sweet, - Lay fragrant mignonette - And fair sweet-peas in dainty garlands set,— - Dear humble flowers, that make - Each passer-by the gladder for their sake! - - For she who lieth here - Trod not alone the high paths shining clear, - With light of star and sun - Falling undimmed her lofty place upon; - But stooped to lowliest ways, - Filling with fragrance all the passing days! - - -THREE LADDIES - - O sailors sailing north, - Where the wild white surges roar, - And fierce winds and strong winds - Blow down from Labrador— - Have you seen my three brave laddies, - My merry red-cheeked laddies, - Three bold, adventurous laddies, - On some tempestuous shore? - - O sailors sailing south, - Where the seas are calm and blue, - And light clouds and soft clouds - Are floating over you, - Say, have you seen my laddies, - My three bright, winsome laddies, - My brown-haired, smiling laddies, - With hearts so leal and true? - - O sailors sailing east, - Ask the sea-gulls sweeping by; - O sailors sailing west, - Ask the eagles soaring high, - If they have seen my laddies, - My careless, heedless laddies, - Three debonair young laddies, - Beneath the wide, wide sky? - - O sailors, if you find them, - Pray send them back to me; - For them the winds go sighing - Through every lonely tree— - For these three wandering laddies, - My tender, bright-eyed laddies, - The laughter-loving laddies, - Whom they no longer see. - - There are three men who love me, - Three men with bearded lips; - But oh! ye gallant sailors - Who sail the sea in ships— - In elf-land, or in cloud-land, - Or on the dreamland shore, - Can you find the little laddies - Whom I can find no more? - Three quiet, thoughtful laddies, - Three merry, winsome laddies, - Three rollicking, frolicking laddies, - On any far-off shore? - - - SUMMER, 1882 - R. W. E. - - - O Summer, thou fair laggard, where art thou? - In what far sunlit land of balm and bloom, - What slumbrous bowers of beauty and perfume, - Are roses crowning thine imperial brow? - - Where art thou, Summer? We should see thy feet - Even now upon the mountains. All the hills - Rise up to greet thee. Nature’s great heart thrills, - Faint with expectant joy. Where art thou, sweet? - - And Summer answered: “Lo! I wait! I wait! - To the far North I bend my listening ear; - By day, by night, my soul keeps watch to hear - One high, clear strain that rises soon nor late! - - Why should I haste where light and song have fled? - The ‘Woodnotes’ wake no more the Master’s lyre; - The ‘haughty day’ fills no ‘blue urn with fire’ - When its great lover lieth cold and dead!” - - -THORNLESS ROSES - - “No rose may bloom without a thorn?” - Come down the garden paths and see - How brightly in the scented air - They bloom for you and me! - - See how, like rosy clouds, they lie - Against the perfect, stainless blue! - See how they toss their airy heads, - And smile for me, for you! - - No scanty largess, meanly doled— - No pallid blooms, by two, by three, - But a whole crowd of pink-white wings - Fluttering for you and me. - - So fair they are I cannot choose; - I pluck the rich spoils here and there; - I heap them on your waiting arms; - I twine them in your hair. - - There is no thorn among them all— - No sharp sting in the heart of bliss— - No bitter in the honeyed cup— - No burning in the kiss. - - Nay, quote the proverb if you must, - And mock the truth you will not see; - Nathless, Love’s thornless roses blow - Somewhere for you and me. - - -TREASURE-SHIPS - - O beautiful, stately ships, - Ye come from over the seas, - With every sail full spread - To the glad, rejoicing breeze! - Ye come from the dusky East, - Ye come from the golden West, - As birds that out of the far blue sky - Fly each to its sheltered nest. - - All spoils of the earth ye bring; - From the isles of far Cathay, - From the fabled shores of the Orient, - The realms of eternal day. - The prisoned light of a thousand gems, - The gleam of the virgin gold, - Lustre of silver, and sheen of pearl, - Shut up in the narrow hold. - - Shawls from the looms of Ispahan; - Ivory white as milk; - Shimmer of satin and rare brocade, - And fold upon fold of silk; - Gauzes that India’s maidens wear; - Spices, and rare perfumes; - Fruits that hold in their honeyed cups - The wealth of the summer blooms. - - The blood of a thousand vines; - The cotton’s drifted snow; - The fragrant heart of the precious woods - That deep in the tropics grow; - The strength of the giant hills; - The might of the iron ore; - The golden corn, and the yellow wheat - From earth’s broad threshing-floor. - - Yet, O ye beautiful ships! - There are ships that come not back, - With flying pennant and swelling sail, - Over yon shining track! - Who can reckon their precious stores, - Or measure the might have been? - Who can tell what they held for us— - The ships that will ne’er come in? - - -CHOOSING - - Meadow-sweet or lily fair— - Which shall it be? - Clematis or brier-rose, - Blooming for me? - Spicy pink, or violet - With the dews of morning wet, - Sweet peas or mignonette— - Which shall it be? - - Flowers in the garden-beds, - Flowers everywhere; - Blue-bells and yellow-bells - Swinging in the air; - Purple pansies, golden pied; - Pink-white daisies, starry-eyed; - Gay nasturtiums, deeply dyed, - Climbing everywhere! - - Oh, the roses darkly red— - See, how they burn! - Glows with all the summer heat - Each crimson urn. - Bridal roses pure as snow, - Yellow roses all a-blow, - Sweet blush-roses drooping low, - Wheresoe’er I turn! - - Life is so full, so sweet— - How can I choose? - If I gather _this_ rose, - _That_ I must lose! - All are not for me to wear; - I can only have my share; - Thorns are hiding here and there; - How can I choose? - - -NOT MINE - - It is not mine to run - With eager feet - Along life’s crowded ways, - My Lord to meet. - - It is not mine to pour - The oil and wine, - Or bring the purple robe - And linen fine. - - It is not mine to break - At his dear feet - The alabaster-box - Of ointment sweet. - - It is not mine to bear - heavy cross, - Or suffer, for his sake, - All pain and loss. - - It is not mine to walk - Through valleys dim, - Or climb far mountain-heights - Alone with him. - - He hath no need of me - In grand affairs, - Where fields are lost, or crowns - Won unawares. - - Yet, Master, if I may - Make one pale flower - Bloom brighter, for thy sake, - Through one short hour; - - If I, in harvest-fields - Where strong ones reap, - May bind one golden sheaf - For Love to keep; - - May speak one quiet word - When all is still, - Helping some fainting heart - To bear thy will; - - Or sing one high, clear song, - On which may soar - Some glad soul heavenward, - I ask no more! - - -THE CHAMBER OF SILENCE - - One autumn day we three, - Who long had borne each other company— - Grief, and my Heart, and I— - Walked out beneath a dull and leaden sky. - - The fields were bare and brown; - From the still trees the dead leaves fluttered down; - There were no birds to sing, - Or cleave the air on swift, rejoicing wing. - - We sought the barren sand - Beside the moaning sea, and, hand in hand, - Paced its slow length, and talked - Of our supremest sorrows as we walked. - - Slow shaking each bowed head, - “There is no anguish like to ours,” we said; - “The glancing eyes of morn - Fall on no souls more utterly forlorn.” - - But suddenly, across - A narrow fiord wherein wild billows toss, - We saw before our eyes, - High hung above the tide, a temple rise— - - A temple wondrous fair, - Lifting its shining turrets in the air, - All touched with golden gleams, - Like the bright miracles we see in dreams. - - Grief turned and looked at me. - “We must go thither, O my friends,” said she; - Then, saying nothing more, - With rapid, gliding step passed on before. - - And we—my Heart and I— - Where Grief went, we went, following silently, - Till in sweet solitude - Beneath the temple’s vaulted roof we stood. - - ’Twas like a hollow pearl— - A vast white sacred chamber, where the whirl - Of passion stirred not, where - A luminous splendor trembled in the air. - - “O friends, I know this place,” - Said Grief at last, “this lofty, silent space, - Where, either soon or late, - I and my kindred all shall lie in state.” - - “But do Griefs die?” I cried. - “Some die—not all,” full calmly she replied. - “Yet all at last will lie - In this fair chamber, slumbering quietly. - - Chamber of Silence, this; - Who brings his Grief here doth not go amiss. - Mine hour hath come. We three - Will walk, O friends, no more in company.” - - Then was I dumb. My Heart - And I—how could we with our dear Grief part, - Who for so many a day - Had walked beside us in our lonely way? - - But she, with matchless grace, - And a sweet smile upon her tear-wet face, - Said, “Leave me here to sleep, - Where every Grief forgets at last to weep.” - - What could we do but go? - We turned with slow, reluctant feet, but lo! - The pearly door had closed, - Shutting us in where all the Griefs reposed. - - “Nay, go not back,” she said; - “Retrace no steps. Go farther on instead.” - Then, on the other side, - On noiseless hinge another door swung wide, - - Through which we onward passed - Into a chamber lowlier than the last, - But, oh! so sweet and calm - That the hushed air was like a holy psalm. - - “Chamber of Peace” was writ - Where the low vaulted roof arched over it. - Then knew we Grief must cease - When sacred Silence leadeth unto Peace. - - -THREE ROSES - - “Oh, shall it be a red rose, a red rose, a red rose, - A deep-tinted red rose?” said she. - “In the sunny garden closes, - How they burn, the dark-red roses, - How they lift up their glowing cups to me!” - - “Oh, shall it be a blush rose, a blush rose, a blush rose, - A dewy, dainty blush rose?” said she. - “At its heart a flush so tender, - With what veiled and softened splendor - Droopeth now its languid head toward me!” - - “Oh, shall it be a white rose, a white rose, a white rose, - A fair and fragrant white rose?” said she. - “With its pale cheek tinted faintly, - ’Tis a vestal, pure and saintly, - Yet its silver lamp is shining now for me!” - - - FOUR LETTERS - (INSCRIBED TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES) - -[In an old almanac of the year 1809, against the date August 29th, -there is this record, “Son b.” The sand that was thrown upon the fresh -ink seventy years ago can still be seen upon the page.] - - Four letters on a yellow page - Writ when the century was young; - A few small grains of shining sand - Across it lightly flung! - - A child was born—child nameless yet; - A son to love till life was o’er; - But did no strange, sweet prescience stir, - Teaching of something more? - - Thy son! O father, hadst thou known - What now the wide world knows of him, - How had thy pulses thrilled with joy, - How had thine eye grown dim! - - Couldst thou, through all the swift, bright years, - Have looked, with glad, far-reaching gaze, - And seen him as he stands to-day, - Crowned with unfading bays— - - While Love’s red roses at his feet - Pour all their wealth of rare perfume, - And Truth’s white lilies, pure as snow, - His lofty way illume— - - How had thy heart’s strong throbbing shook - The eager pen, the firm right hand, - That threw upon this record quaint - These grains of glittering sand! - - O irony of Time and Fate! - That saves and loses, makes and mars, - Keeps the small dust upon the scales, - And blotteth out the stars! - - Kingdoms and thrones have passed away; - Conquerors have fallen, empires died, - And countless sons of men gone down - Beneath War’s crimson tide. - - The whole wide earth has changed its face; - Nations clasp hands across the seas; - They speak, and winds and waves repeat - The mighty symphonies. - - Mountains have bowed their haughty crests, - And opened wide their ponderous doors; - The sea hath gathered in its dead, - Love-wept on alien shores. - - Proud cities, wrapped in fire and flame, - Have challenged all the slumbering land; - Yet neither Time nor Change has touched - These few bright grains of sand! - - -VALDEMAR - - Within a city quaint and old, - When reigned King Alcinor the Bold, - There dwelt a sculptor whose renown - With pride and wonder filled the town. - And yet he had not reached his prime; - The first warm glow of summer-time - Had but just touched his radiant face, - And moulded to a statelier grace - The stalwart form that trod the earth - As it had been of princely birth. - So fair, so strong, so brave was he, - With such a sense of mastery, - That Alcinor upon his throne - No kinglier gifts from life could own - Than those it brought from near and far - To the young sculptor, Valdemar! - Mayhap he was not rich—for Fame, - To lend its magic to his name, - Had outrun Fortune’s swiftest pace - And conquered in the friendly race. - But a fair home was his, where bees - Hummed in the laden mulberry-trees; - Where cyclamens, with rosy flush, - Brightened the lingering twilight hush, - And the gladiolus’ fiery plume - Mocked the red rose’s brilliant bloom; - Where violet and wind-flower hid - The acacia’s golden gloom amid; - Where starry jasmines climbed, and where, - Serenely calm, divinely fair, - Like a white lily, straight and tall, - The loveliest flower among them all, - His sweet young wife, Hermione, - Sang to the child upon her knee! - - Here beauteous visions haunted him, - Peopling the shadows soft and dim; - Here the old gods around him cast - The glamour of their splendors past. - Jove thundered from the awful sky; - Proud Juno trod the earth once more; - Pale Isis, veiled in mystery, - Her smile of mystic meaning wore; - Apollo joyed in youth divine, - And Bacchus wreathed the fragrant vine. - Here chaste Diana, crescent-crowned, - With virgin footsteps spurned the ground; - Here rose fair Venus from the sea, - And that sad ghost, Persephone, - Wandered, a very shade of shades, - Amid the moonlit myrtle glades. - Nor they alone. The Heavenly Child, - The Holy Mother, meek and mild, - Angels on glad wing soaring free, - Pale, praying saints on bended knee, - Martyrs with palms, and heroes brave - Who for their guerdon won a grave, - Earth’s laughing children, rosy sweet, - And the soul’s phantoms, fair and fleet— - All these were with him night and day, - Charming the happy hours away! - Oh, who so rich as Valdemar? - What ill his joyous life can mar? - With home and glorious visions blest, - Glad in the work he loveth best! - - But Love’s clear eyes are quick to see; - And one fair spring, Hermione. - Sitting beneath her mulberry-tree - With her young children at her knee, - Saw Valdemar from day to day, - As one whose thoughts were far away, - With folded arms and drooping head - Pace the green aisles with silent tread; - Saw him stand moodily apart - With idle hands and brooding heart, - Or gaze at his still forms of clay, - Himself as motionless as they! - “O Valdemar!” she cried, “you bear - Some burden that I do not share! - I am your wife, your own true wife; - Shut me not out from heart and life! - Why brood you thus in silent pain?” - As shifts the changing weather-vane, - So came the old smile to his face, - Saluting her with courtly grace. - “Nay, nay, Hermione, not so! - No secret, bitter grief I know; - But, haunting all my dreams by night - And thoughts by day, one vision bright, - One nameless wonder, near me stands, - Claiming its birthright at my hands. - It hath your eyes, Hermione, - Your tender lips that smile for me; - It hath your perfect, stately grace, - The matchless beauty of your face. - But it hath more! for never yet - On brow of earthly mould was set - Such splendor and such light as streams - From this rare phantom of my dreams!” - - Lightly she turned, and led him through - Under the jasmines wet with dew, - Into a wide, cool room, shut in - From the great city’s whirl and din— - Then, smiling, touched a heap of clay. - “Dear idler, do thy work, I pray! - Thy radiant phantom lieth hid - The mould of centuries amid, - Waiting till thou shalt bid it rise - And live beneath the wondering skies!” - - Then rose a hot flush to his cheek; - His stammering lips were slow to speak. - “Hermione,” he said at length, - As one who gathers up his strength, - “Hermione, my wife, I go - Far from thee on a journey slow - And long and perilous; for I know - Somewhere upon the earth there is - A finer, purer clay than this, - From which I’ll mould a shape more fair - Than ever breathed in earthly air! - I go to seek it!” - - “Ah!” she said, - With smiling lips, but tearful eyes, - Half lifted in a grieved surprise, - “How shall I then be comforted? - Not always do we find afar - The good we seek, my Valdemar! - This common, way-side clay thy hand - Hath been most potent to command. - Yet I—I will not bid thee stay. - Go, if thou must, and find thy clay!” - - Then his long journeyings began, - And still his hope his steps outran. - O’er desert sands he came and went; - He crossed a mighty continent; - Plunged into forests dark and lone; - In jungles heard the panther’s moan; - Climbed the far mountains’ lofty heights; - Watched alien stars through weary nights; - While more than once, on trackless seas, - His white sails caught the eddying breeze. - Yet all his labor was for nought, - And never found he what he sought, - Or far or near. The finer clay - But mocked his eager search alway. - - Ofttimes he came, with weary feet, - Back to the home so still and sweet - Where his fair wife, Hermione, - Dwelt with her children at her knee; - But never once his eager hand - Thrilled the mute clay with high command. - One day she spoke: “O Valdemar, - Cease from your wanderings wide and far! - Life is not long. Why waste it, then, - Chasing false fires through marsh and fen? - Mould your fair statue while you may; - High purpose sanctifies the clay.” - - He answered her, “My dream must wait, - Fortune will aid me, soon or late! - Perhaps the clay I may not find— - But a strange tale is in the wind - Of an old man whose life has been - Shut up wild solitudes within - On Alpine mountains. He has found - What I have sought the world around. - A learnèd, godly man, he knows - How the full tide of being flows; - And he, in some mysterious way, - Makes, if he cannot find, the clay. - He will his secret share with me— - I go to him, Hermione!” - - “But, Valdemar,” she cried, “time flies, - And while you dream, the vision dies! - And look! Our children suffer lack; - There is no coat for Claudio’s back; - Theresa’s little feet, unshod, - Are torn by shards on which they trod; - And Marcius cried but yesterday - When the lads mocked him at their play. - The very house is crumbling down; - The broken hearth-stone needs repair; - The roof is open to the air— - It wakes the laughter of the town! - O Valdemar! if you must go - Up to those trackless fields of snow, - Mould first from yonder common clay - Something to keep the wolf away— - A Virgin for some humble shrine, - A soldier clad in armor fine, - Or even such toys as Andrefels - To laughing, wondering children sells.” - - “Now murmur not, Hermione, - But be thou patient,” answered he. - “Why mind the laughter of the town? - It cannot shake my fair renown! - A touch of hardship, now and then, - Will never harm our little men; - And as for this old, crumbling roof, - Let rude winds put it to the proof, - And fierce heats gnaw the hearth-stone! I - Surely the Land of Promise spy, - Where the fair vision of my dreams, - Clothed in transcendent beauty, gleams! - In its white hand it holdeth up - For us, my love, a brimming cup - Where wealth and fame and joy divine - Mingle in life’s most sparkling wine. - Bid me God-speed, Hermione, - And kiss me, ere I go from thee!” - - So on he sped, from day to day— - Past wheat-fields yellowing in the sun, - Where scarlet-coated poppies run, - Gay soldiers ready for the fray— - Past vineyards purpling on the hills, - Past sleeping lakes and dancing rills, - And homes like dovecotes nestling high - Midway between the earth and sky! - Then on he passed through valleys dim - Crowded with shadows gaunt and grim, - Up towering heights whence glaciers launch - Their swift-winged ships for seaward flight, - Or where, dread messenger of fright, - Sweeps down the awful avalanche! - And still upon the mountain side - To every man he met he cried, - “Where shall I find, oh! tell me where, - The hermit of this upper air, - Who Nature’s inmost secret knows?” - And, pointing to the eternal snows, - Each man replied, with wagging head, - “Up yonder, somewhere, it is said.” - - At length one day, as sank the sun, - He reached a low hut, dark and dun, - And, entering unbidden, found - An old man stretched upon the ground: - A white-haired, venerable man, - Whose eyes had hardly light to scan - The face that, blanched with awful fear, - Bent down, his failing breath to hear. - “_Pax vobiscum_” he murmured low, - “Shrive me, O brother, ere I go!” - - “No priest am I,” cried Valdemar. - “Alas! alas! I came from far - To learn thy secret of the clay— - Speak to me, sire, while yet you may!” - But while he wet the parchèd lips, - The dull eyes closed in death’s eclipse; - And the old seer in silence lay, - Himself a thing of pallid clay, - With all his secrets closely hid - As Ramses’ in the pyramid. - - Long time within that lonely place - Valdemar lived, but found no trace - In learnèd book or parchment scroll - (The ink scarce dry upon the roll) - Of aught the stars had taught to him. - Within the wide horizon’s rim, - Nor earth, nor sky, nor winds at play, - Knew the lost secret of the clay. - - Then sought he, after journeyings hard, - The holy monks of St. Bernard. - But they—ah, yes!—they knew him well, - A man not ruled by book and bell. - Godly, perhaps—but much inclined - Some newer road to heaven to find. - And was he dead? God rest his soul, - After this life of toil and dole! - - And that was all! O Valdemar! - Fly to thy desolate home afar, - Where wasted, worn, Hermione, - With her pale children at her knee, - Beside the broken hearth-stone weeps! - - He finds her, smiling as she sleeps, - For night more tender is than day, - And softly wipes our tears away. - “Oh, wake, Hermione!” he cries, - As one whose spirit inly dies; - “Hear me confess that I have been - False to thee in my pride and sin! - God give me grace from this blest day - To do His work in common clay! ” - - Next morn, in humble, sweet content, - Into his studio he went, - Eager to test his willing hand, - And rule the clay with wise command. - But no fair wonder first he wrought, - No marvel of creative thought, - Not even a Virgin for a shrine, - Or soldier clad in armor fine— - Only such toys as Andrefels - To laughing, wondering children sells! - - One day he knelt him gravely down - Beside the hearth-stone, rent and brown. - “And now, my patient wife,” said he, - “What can be done with this, we’ll see.” - With straining arm and crimsoned face - He pried the mortar from its place, - Lifted the heavy stone aside, - And left a cavern yawning wide. - Oh, wondrous tale! At set of sun - The guerdon of his search was won; - And where his broken hearth-stone lay - He found at last the perfect clay! - - -JUBILATE! - - Jubilate! Jubilate! - Christ the Lord is risen to-day! - Hear the mighty chorus swelling - Over land and over sea! - River calls aloud to river, - Mountain peak to mountain peak— - Jubilate! Jubilate! - Christ the Lord is risen to-day! - - Waken, roses, from your slumbers! - Lilies, wake—for he is near! - Happy bells in wild-wood arches, - Ring and swing in sweet accord! - Lift your voices, O ye maples, - Sing aloud, ye stately pines, - Jubilate! Jubilate! - Christ the Lord is risen to-day! - - O thou goddess of the springtime, - Fair Ostera, thou art dead! - Never more shall priests and vestals - Weave fresh garlands for thy shrine; - But the happy voices ringing - Over land and over sea, - Swell the mighty jubilate— - “Christ the Lord is risen to-day!” - - -EASTER LILIES - - O ye dear and blessed ones who are done with sighing, - Do the Easter Lilies blow for you to-day? - Do the shining angels, through Heaven’s arches flying, - Bear the snow-white blossoms on your breasts to lay? - - For we cannot reach you, O our well belovèd— - Nothing can we do for you save to hold you dear; - From our close embraces ye are far removèd, - And our empty yearnings cannot bring you near. - - Once on Easter mornings glad we gave you greeting— - Gave you fair flowers, singing, “Christ is risen to-day!” - Hands were clasped together, hearts and lips were meeting— - Earth and we together sang a roundelay! - - Now—yet why repine we?—ye are done with sorrow; - Life and Lent are over, with their prayers and tears; - After night of watching came the glad to-morrow, - Came the blessed sunshine of the eternal years. - - Surely in Jerusalem, where the Lord Christ reigneth, - Ye with saints and martyrs keep this festal day— - And the holy angels, ere its glory waneth, - Heaven’s own Easter Lilies on your breasts shall lay! - - -“O WIND THAT BLOWS OUT OF THE WEST” - - O wind that blows out of the West, - Thou hast swept over mountain and sea, - Dost thou bear on thy swift, glad wings - The breath of my love to me? - Hast thou kissed her warm, sweet lips? - Or tangled her soft brown hair? - Or fluttered the fragrant heart - Of the rose she loves to wear? - - O sun that goes down in the West, - Hast thou seen my love to-day, - As she sits in her beautiful prime - Under skies so far away? - Hast thou gilded a path for her feet, - Or deepened the glow on her cheeks, - Or bent from the skies to hear - The low, sweet words she speaks? - - O stars that are bright in the West - When the hush of the night is deep, - Do ye see my love as she lies - Like a chaste, white flower asleep? - Does she smile as she walks with me - In the light of a happy dream, - While the night winds rustle the leaves, - And the light waves ripple and gleam? - - O birds that fly out of the West, - Do ye bring me a message from her, - As sweet as your love-notes are, - When the warm spring breezes stir? - Did she whisper a word of me - As your tremulous wings swept by, - Or utter my name, mayhap, - In a single passionate cry? - - O voices out of the West, - Ye are silent every one, - And never an answer comes - From wind, or stars, or sun! - And the blithe birds come and go - Through the boundless fields of space, - As reckless of human prayers - As if earth were a desert place! - - -A SUMMER SONG - - Roly-poly honey-bee, - Humming in the clover, - Under you the tossing leaves, - And the blue sky over, - Why are you so busy, pray? - Never still a minute, - Hovering now above a flower, - Now half-buried in it! - - Jaunty robin-redbreast, - Singing loud and cheerly, - From the pink-white apple tree - In the morning early, - Tell me, is your merry song - Just for your own pleasure, - Poured from such a tiny throat, - Without stint or measure? - - Little yellow buttercup, - By the way-side smiling, - Lifting up your happy face, - With such sweet beguiling, - Why are you so gayly clad— - Cloth of gold your raiment? - Do the sunshine and the dew - Look to you for payment? - - Roses in the garden beds, - Lilies, cool and saintly, - Darling blue-eyed violets, - Pansies, hooded quaintly, - Sweet-peas that, like butterflies, - Dance the bright skies under, - Bloom ye for your own delight, - Or for ours, I wonder! - - -THE URN - - Across the blue Atlantic waves - She sent a little gift to me: - A golden urn—a graceful toy - As one need care to see. - - Smiling, I held it in my hand, - Thinking her message o’er and o’er, - Nor dreamed her swift feet pressed so near - The undiscovered shore. - - Oh! had it been a funeral urn— - The gift my darling sent to me - With loving thoughts and tender words - Across the heaving sea— - - A funeral urn which might have held - Her sacred ashes, sealed in rest - Utter as that which holds in thrall - Some pulseless marble breast! - - Where drifts she now? On what far seas - Floateth to-day her golden hair? - What stars behold her pale hands, clasped - In ecstasy of prayer? - - Forever in this thought of mine, - Like the fair Lady of Shalott, - She drifteth, drifteth with the tide, - But never comes to Camelot! - - -THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER - - “What, ho!” he cried, as up and down - He rode through the streets of Windham town— - “What, ho! for the day of peace is done, - And the day of wrath too well begun! - Bring forth the grain from your barns and mills; - Drive down the cattle from off your hills; - For Boston lieth in sore distress, - Pallid with hunger and long duress: - Her children starve, while she hears the beat - And the tramp of the red-coats in every street!” - - “What, ho! What, ho!” Like a storm unspent, - Over the hill-sides he came and went; - And Parson White, from his open door - Leaning bareheaded that August day, - While the sun beat down on his temples gray, - Watched him until he could see no more. - Then straight he strode to the church, and flung - His whole soul into the peal he rung; - Pulling the bell-rope till the tower - Seemed to rock in the sudden shower— - - The shower of sound the farmers heard, - Rending the air like a living word! - Then swift they gathered with right good-will - From field and anvil and shop and mill, - To hear what the parson had to say - That would not keep till the Sabbath-day. - For only the women and children knew - The tale of the horsemen galloping through— - The message he bore as up and down - He rode through the streets of Windham town. - - That night, as the parson sat at ease - In the porch, with his Bible on his knees, - (Thanking God that at break of day - Frederic Manning would take his way, - With cattle and sheep from off the hills, - And a load of grain from the barns and mills, - To the starving city where General Gage - Waited unholy war to wage), - His little daughter beside him stood, - Hiding her face in her muslin hood. - - In her arms her own pet lamb she bore, - As it struggled down to the oaken floor: - “It must go; I must give my lamb,” she said, - “To the children that cry for meat and bread,” - Then lifted to his her holy eyes, - Wet with the tears of sacrifice. - “Nay, nay,” he answered. “There is no need - That the hearts of babes should ache and bleed. - Run away to your bed, and to-morrow play, - You and your pet, through the livelong day.” - - He laid his hand on her shining hair, - And smiled as he blessed her, standing there, - With kerchief folded across her breast, - And her small brown hands together pressed, - A quaint little maiden, shy and sweet, - With her lambkin crouched at her dainty feet. - Away to its place the lamb she led, - Then climbed the stairs to her own white bed, - While the moon rose up and the stars looked down - On the silent streets of Windham town. - - But when the heralds of morning came, - Flushing the east with rosy flame, - With low of cattle and scurry of feet, - Driving his herd down the village street, - Young Manning heard from a low stone wall - A child’s voice clearly yet softly call; - And saw in the gray dusk standing there - A little maiden with shining hair, - While crowding close to her tender side - Was a snow-white lamb to her apron tied. - - “Oh, wait!” she cried, “for my lamb must go - To the children crying in want and woe. - It is all I have.” And her tears fell fast - As she gave it one eager kiss—the last. - “The road will be long to its feet. I pray - Let your arms be its bed a part of the way; - And give it cool water and tender grass - Whenever a way-side brook you pass.” - Then away she flew like a startled deer, - Nor waited the bleat of her lamb to hear. - - Young Manning lifted his steel-blue eyes - One moment up to the morning skies; - Then, raising the lamb to his breast, he strode - Sturdily down the lengthening road. - “Now God be my helper,” he cried, “and lead - Me safe with my charge to the souls in need! - Through fire and flood, through dearth and dole, - Though foes assail me and war-clouds roll, - To the city in want and woe that lies - I will bear this lamb as a sacrifice.” - - - MARCH FOURTH - 1881-1882 - - - One year ago the plaudits of the crowd, - The drum’s long thunder and the bugle’s blare, - The bell’s gay clamor, pealing clear and loud, - And rapturous music filling all the air; - - One year ago, on roofs and domes and spires, - Ten thousand banners bursting into bloom - As the proud day advanced its golden fires, - And all the crowding centuries gave it room; - - One year ago the laurel and the palm, - The upward path, the height undimmed and far, - And in the clear, strong light, serene and calm, - One high, pure spirit, shining like a star! - - To-day—for loud acclaims the long lament; - For shouts of triumph, tears that fall like rain; - A world remembering, with anguish rent, - Thy long, unmurmuring martyrdom of pain! - - The year moves on; the seasons come and go; - Day follows day, and pale stars rise and set; - Oh! in yon radiant heaven dost thou know - The land that loved thee never can forget? - - It doth not swerve—it keeps its onward way, - Unfaltering still, from farthest sea to sea; - Yet, while it owns another’s rightful sway, - It patient grows and strong, remembering thee! - - -ROY - - Our Prince has gone to his inheritance! - Think it not strange. What if, with slight half-smile, - Some crownèd king to leave his throne should chance, - And try the rough ways of the world awhile? - - Ere he had wearied of its storm and stress, - Would he not hasten to his own again? - Why should he bear its labor and duress, - And all the untold burden of its pain? - - Or what if from the golden palace gate - The king’s fair son on some bright morn should stray? - Would he not send his lords of high estate - To lead him back ere fell the close of day? - - Even so our King from Heaven’s high portals saw - The fair young Prince where earth’s dull shades advance, - And sent his messengers of love and law - To bear him home to his inheritance! - - - THE PAINTER’S PRAYER - “NEC ME PRÆTERMITTAS, DOMINE!” - -(An incident in the painting of Holman Hunt’s “Light of the World.”) - - “Nay,” he said, “it is not done! - At to-morrow’s set of sun - Come again, if you would see - What the finished thought may be.” - Straight they went. The heavy door - On its hinges swung once more, - As within the studio dim - Eye and heart took heed of Him! - - How the Presence filled the room, - Brightening all its dusky gloom! - Saints and martyrs turned their eyes - From the hills of Paradise; - Rapt in holy ecstasy, - Mary smiled her Son to see, - Letting all her lilies fall - At His feet—the Lord of all! - - But the painter bowed his head, - Lost in wonder and in dread, - And as at a holy shrine - Knelt before the form divine. - All had passed—the pride, the power, - Of the soul’s creative hour— - Exaltation’s soaring flight - To the spirit’s loftiest height. - - Had he dared to paint the Lord? - Dared to paint the Christ, the Word? - Ah, the folly! Ah, the sin! - Ah, the shame his soul within! - Saints might turn on him their eyes - From the hills of Paradise, - But the painter could not brook - On that pictured face to look. - - Yet the form was grand and fair, - Fit to move a world to prayer; - God like in its strength and stress, - Human in its tenderness. - From it streamed the Light divine, - O’er it drooped the heavenly vine, - And beneath the bending spray - Stood the Life, the Truth, the Way! - - Suddenly with eager hold, - Back he swept the curtain’s fold, - Letting all the sunset glow - O’er the living canvas flow. - Surely then the wondrous eyes - Met his own in tenderest wise, - And the Lord Christ, half revealed, - Smiled upon him as he kneeled! - - Trembling, throbbing, quick as thought, - Up he brush and palette caught, - And where deepest shade was thrown - Set one sign for God alone! - Years have passed—but, even yet, - Where the massive frame is set - You may find these words: “_Nec me - Prætermittas, Domine!_” - - “Neither pass me by, O Lord!” - Christ, the Life, the Light, the Word, - Low we bow before thy feet, - Thy remembrance to entreat! - In our soul’s most secret place, - For no eye but thine to trace, - Lo! this prayer we write: “_Nec me - Prætermittas, Domine!_” - - - FROM EXILE - PARIS, SEPTEMBER 3, 1879 - -(_A Mother speaks_) - - Ah, dear God, when will it be day? - I cannot sleep, I cannot pray. - Tossing, I watch the silent stars - Mount up from the horizon bars: - Orion with his flaming sword, - Proud chieftain of the glorious horde; - Auriga up the lofty arch - Pursuing still his stately march— - So patient and so calm are they. - Ah, dear God! when will it be day? - - O Mary, Mother! Hark! I hear - A cock crow through the silence clear! - The dawn’s faint crimson streaks the east, - And, afar off, I catch the least - Low murmur of the city’s stir - As she shakes off the dreams of her! - List! there’s a sound of hurrying feet - Far down below me in the street. - Thank God! the weary night is past, - The morning comes—’tis day at last. - - Wake, Rosalie! Awake! arise! - The sun is up, it gilds the skies. - She does not stir. The young sleep sound - As dead men in their graves profound. - Ho, Rosalie! At last? Now haste! - To-day there is no time to waste. - Bring me fresh water. Braid my hair. - Hand me the glass. Once I was fair - As thou art. Now I look so old - It seems my death-knell should be tolled. - - Ill? No! (I want no wine.) So pale? - Like a white ghost, so wan and frail? - Well, that’s not strange. All night I lay - Waiting and watching for the day. - But—there! I’ll drink it; it may make - My cheeks burn brighter for his sake - Who comes to-day. My boy! my boy! - How can I bear the unwonted joy? - I, who for eight long years have wept - While happier mothers smiling slept; - While others decked their sons first-born - For dance, or fête, or bridal morn, - Or proudly smiled to see them stand - The stateliest pillars of the land! - For he, so gallant and so gay, - As young and debonair as they, - My beautiful, brave boy, my life, - Went down in the unequal strife! - The right or wrong? Oh, what care I? - The good God judgeth up on high. - - And now He gives him back to me! - I tremble so—I scarce can see. - How full the streets are! I will wait - His coming here beside this gate, - From which I watched him as he went, - Eight years ago, to banishment. - Let me sit down. Speak, Rosalie, when - You see a band of stalwart men, - With one fair boy among them—one - With bright hair shining in the sun, - Red, smiling lips, and eager eyes, - Blue as the blue of summer skies. - My boy! my boy!—Why come they not? - O Son of God! hast Thou forgot - Thy Mother’s agony? Yet she, - Was she not stronger far than we, - We common mothers? Could she know - From her far heights such pain and woe?— - Run farther down the street, and see - If they’re not coming, Rosalie! - - Mother of Christ! how lag the hours! - What? just beyond the convent towers, - And coming straight this way? O heart, - Be still and strong, and bear thy part, - Thy new part, bravely. Hark! I hear - Above the city’s hum the near - Slow tread of marching feet; I see— - Nay, I can _not_ see, Rosalie; - Your eyes are younger. Is he there, - My Antoine, with his sunny hair? - It is like gold; it shines in the sun: - Surely you see it? What? Not one— - Not one bright head? All old, old men, - Gray-haired, gray-bearded, gaunt? Then—then - He has not come—he is ill, or dead! - O God, that I were in thy stead, - My son! my son! Who touches me? - Your pardon, sir. I am not she - For whom you look. Go farther on - Ere yet the daylight shall be gone. - - ‘Mother!’ Who calls me ‘Mother?’ _You?_ - You are not he—my Antoine! You— - A bowed, gray-bearded man, while he - Was a mere boy who went from me, - Only a boy! I’m sorry, sir. - God bless you! Soon you will find her - For whom you seek. But I—ah, I— - Still must I call and none reply! - You—kiss me? Antoine? O my son! - Thou art mine own, my banished one! - - -A MOTHER-SONG - - Sleep, baby, sleep! The Christmas stars are shining, - Clear and bright the Christmas stars climb up the vaulted sky; - Low hangs the pale moon, in the west declining: - Sleep, baby, sleep, the Christmas morn is nigh! - - Hush, baby, hush! For Earth her watch is keeping; - Watches and waits she the angels’ song to hear; - Listening for the swift rush of their wings downsweeping, - Joy and Peace proclaiming through the midnight clear. - - Dream, baby, dream! The far-off chimes are ringing; - Tenderly and solemnly the music soars and swells; - With soft reverberation the happy bells are swinging, - While each to each responsive the same sweet story tells! - - Hark, baby, hark! Hear how the choral voices, - All jubilantly singing, take up the glad refrain, - “Unto you is born a Saviour,” while heaven with earth rejoices, - And all its lofty battlements re-echo with the strain! - - Wake, baby, wake! For, lo! in floods of glory - The Christmas Day advances over the hills of morn! - Wake, baby, wake! and smile to hear the story - How Christ, the Son of Mary, in Bethlehem was born! - - -EASTER MORNING - - Dame Margaret spake to Annie Blair, - To Annie Blair spake she, - As from beneath her wrinkled hand - She peered far out to sea. - - “Look forth, look forth, O Annie Blair, - For my old eyes are dim; - See you a single boat afloat - Within the horizon’s rim?” - - Sweet Annie looked to east, to west, - To north and south looked she: - There was no single boat afloat - Upon the angry sea. - - The sky was dark, the winds were high, - The breakers lashed the shore, - And louder and still louder swelled - The tempest’s sullen roar. - - “Look forth again,” Dame Margaret cried; - “Doth any boat come in?” - And scarce she heard the answering word - Above the furious din. - - “Pray God no boat may put to sea - In such a gale!” she said; - “Pray God no soul may dare to-night - The rocks of Danger Head!” - - “This is Good Friday, Annie Blair,” - Dame Margaret cried again, - “When Mary’s Son, the Merciful, - On Calvary was slain. - - The earth did quake, the rocks were rent, - The graves were opened wide, - And darkness like to this fell down - When He—the Holy—died. - - Give me your hand, O Annie Blair; - Your two knees fall upon; - Christ send to you your lover back— - To me, my only son!” - - All night they watched, all night they prayed, - All night they heard the roar - Of the fierce breakers dashing high - Upon the lonely shore. - - Oh, hark! strange footsteps on the sand, - A voice above the din: - “Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret! - Is Annie Blair within? - - High on the rocks of Danger Head - Her lover’s boat is cast, - All rudderless, all anchorless— - Mere hull and splintered mast.” - - Oh, hark! slow footsteps on the sand, - And women wailing sore: - “Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret! - Your son you’ll see no more! - - God pity you! Christ comfort you!” - The weeping women cried; - But “May God pity Annie Blair!” - Dame Margaret replied. - - “For life is long and youth is strong, - And it must still bear on. - Leave us alone to make our moan— - My son! alas, my son!” - - * * * * * - - The Easter morning, flushed with joy, - Saw all the winds at rest, - And far and near the blue sea smiled - With sunshine on its breast. - - The neighbors came, the neighbors went; - They sought the house of prayer; - But on the rocks of Danger Head - The dame and Annie Blair, - - With still, white faces, watched the deep - Without a tear or moan. - “I cannot weep,” said Annie Blair— - “My heart is turned to stone.” - - Forth from the church the pastor came, - And up the rocks strode he, - Baring his thin white locks to meet - The salt breath of the sea. - - “The rocks shall rend, the earth shall quake, - The sea give up its dead, - For Christ our Lord is risen indeed— - ’Tis Easter morn,” he said. - - Oh, hark! oh, hark! A startled cry, - A rush of hurrying feet, - The swarming of a hundred men - Adown the village street. - - “Now unto God and Christ the Lord - Be praise and thanks alway! - The sea hath given up its dead - This blessed Easter-day.” - - -SEALED ORDERS - - “Oh, whither bound, my captain? - The wind is blowing free, - And overhead the white sails spread - As we go out to sea.” - - He looked to north, he looked to south, - Or ever a word he spake; - “With orders sealed my sails I set— - Due east my course I take.” - - “But to what port?” “Nay, nay,” he cried, - “This only do I know, - That I must sail due eastward - Whatever wind may blow.” - - For many a day we sailéd east. - “O captain, tell me true, - When will our good ship come to port?” - “I cannot answer you!” - - “Then, prithee, gallant captain, - Let us but drift awhile! - The current setteth southward - Past many a sunny isle, - - Where cocoas grow, and mangoes, - And groves of feathery palm, - And nightingales sing all night long - To roses breathing balm.” - - “Nay, tempt me not,” he answered, - “This only do I know, - That I must sail due eastward - Whatever winds may blow!” - - Then sailed we on, and sailed we east - Into the whirlwind’s track. - Wild was the tempest overhead, - The sea was strewn with wrack. - - “Oh, turn thee, turn thee, captain, - Thou’rt rushing on to death!” - But back he answer shouted, - With unabated breath: - - “Turn back who will, I turn not! - For this one thing I know, - That I must sail due eastward - However winds may blow!” - - “Oh, art thou fool or madman? - Thy port is but a dream, - And never on the horizon’s rim - Will its fair turrets gleam.” - - Then smiled the captain wisely, - And slowly answered he, - The while his keen glance widened - Over the lonely sea: - - “I carry sealéd orders. - This only thing I know, - That I must sail due eastward - Whatever winds may blow!” - - -AN ANNIVERSARY - - _So long, so short, - So swift, so slow, - Are the years of man - As they come and go!_ - - O love, it was so long ago! - So long, so long that we were young, - And in the cloisters of our hearts - Hope all her joy-bells rung! - So long, so long that since that hour - Full half a lifetime hath gone by— - How ran the days ere first we met, - Belovéd, thou and I? - - We had our dreams, no doubt. The dawn - Must still presage the rising sun, - And rose and crimson flush the east - Ere day is well begun. - We had our dreams—fair, shadowy wraiths - That fled when Day’s full splendor kissed - Our souls’ high places, and its winds - Swept the vales clear of mist! - - _So long, so short, - So swift, so slow, - Are the years of man - As they come and go!_ - - O love, it was but yesterday! - Who said it was so long ago? - How many times the rose hath bloomed, - Why should we care to know? - For it was just as sweet last June, - As dewy fresh, as fair, as red, - As when our first glad Eden knew - The rare perfumes it shed! - - O love, it was but yesterday! - If yesterday is far away, - As brightly on the hill-tops lies - The sunshine of to-day. - Sing thou, my soul! O heart, be glad! - O circling years, fly swift or slow! - Your ripening harvests shall not fail, - Nor autumn’s utmost glow. - - -MARTHA - - Yea, Lord!—Yet some must serve. - Not all with tranquil heart, - Even at thy dear feet, - Wrapped in devotion sweet, - May sit apart! - - Yea, Lord!—Yet some must bear - The burden of the day, - Its labor and its heat, - While others at thy feet - May muse and pray! - - Yea, Lord!—Yet some must do - Life’s daily task-work; some - Who fain would sing, must toil - Amid earth’s dust and moil, - While lips are dumb! - - Yea, Lord!—Yet man must earn, - And woman bake the bread! - And some must watch and wake - Early, for others’ sake, - Who pray instead! - - Yea, Lord!—Yet even thou - Hast need of earthly care. - I bring the bread and wine - To thee, O Guest Divine! - Be this my prayer! - - -THE HOUR - - What is the hour of the day? - O watchman, can you tell? - Hark! from the tower of Time - Strikes the alarum-bell! - - The strokes I cannot count. - O watchman, can you see - On the misty dial-plate - What hours remain for me? - - I know the rosy dawn - Faded—how long ago!— - Lost in the radiant depths - Of morning’s golden glow. - - Then all the mountain tops - Stood breathless at high noon, - While earth for brief repose - Put off her sandal shoon. - - Now faster fly the hours— - The afternoon is here; - O watchman in the tower, - Tell me, is sunset near? - - Yet—why care I to know?— - Beyond the sunset bars - Upon the dead day wait - The brightest of the stars! - - -THE CLOSED GATE - - I walked along a narrow way; - The sun was shining everywhere; - The jocund earth was glad and gay, - With morning freshness in the air. - - The grass was green beneath my feet; - The skies were blue and soft o’erhead; - The robin carolled clear and sweet, - And flowers their fragrance round me shed. - - How shone the great hills far away; - How clear they rose against the blue; - How fair the tranquil meadows lay, - Where the bright river glances through! - - But suddenly, as on I pressed, - Before me frowned a closéd gate; - Filled with dismay, and sore distressed, - I strove in vain to conquer fate! - - Beyond, the hills for which I sighed— - Beyond, the valleys still and fair— - Beyond, the meadows stretching wide, - And all the shining fields of air! - - * * * * * - - What does it mean, O Father! when - Thy children reach some closéd gate, - Which, though they knock and knock again, - Will not its watch and ward abate? - - Still shall they batter at the walls? - Or still, like children, cry and fret, - While the loud clamor of their calls - Swells high in turbulent regret? - - When thou hast barred the door, shall they - Challenge thy wisdom, God of love? - Or humbly wait beside the way - Till thou the barrier shalt remove? - - Too oft we cannot hear thee speak, - So loud our voices and our prayers, - While to the patient and the meek - The gate thou openest unawares! - - -CONTENT - - Not asking how or why, - Before thy will, - O Father, let my heart - Lie hushed and still! - - Why should I seek to know? - Thou art all-wise; - If thou dost bid me go, - Let that suffice. - - If thou dost bid me stay, - Make me content - In narrow bounds to dwell - Till life be spent. - - If thou dost seal the lips - That fain would speak, - Let me be still till thou - The seal shalt break. - - If thou dost make pale Pain - Thy minister, - Then let my patient heart - Clasp hands with her. - - Or, if thou sendest Joy - To walk with me, - My Father, let her lead - Me nearer thee! - - Teach me that Joy and Pain - Alike are thine; - Teach me my life to leave - In hands divine! - - -MY WONDERLAND - - They tell me you have been in Wonderland. - Why, so have I! No boat’s keel touched the strand, - No white sails flew, no swiftly gliding car - Bore me to mystic realms, unknown and far. - - And yet I, too, with these same questioning eyes, - Have seen its mountains and beheld its skies; - I, too, have been in Wonderland, and know - How through its secret vales the weird winds blow. - - One morn, in Wonderland—one chill spring morn— - I saw a princess sleeping, pale and lorn, - Cold as a corse; when, lo! from out the south - A young knight rode, and kissed her sad, sweet mouth. - - She smiled, she woke! Then rang from far and near - Her minstrels’ voices, jubilant and clear; - While in a trice, with eager, noiseless feet, - All the young maiden grasses, fair and fleet, - - Ran over hill and dale, to bring to her - Green robes with wild flowers ’broidered. All astir - Were the gay, courtier butterflies; the trees - Flung forth their fluttering banners to the breeze; - - The soft airs fanned her; and, in russet dressed, - Her happy servitors around her pressed, - Bearing strange sweets, and curious flagons filled - With life’s new wine, that all her pulses thrilled. - - In this same Wonderland, one sweet spring day, - In a gray casket, deftly hidden away, - I found two pearls; but as I looked they grew - To living jewels, that took wing and flew. - - And once a creeping worm, within my sight - Wove its own shroud and coffin, sealed and white - Then, bursting from its cerements, soared in air, - A radiant vision, most supremely fair. - - Out of the darksome mould, before my eyes - I saw a shaft of emerald arise, - Bearing a silver chalice veined with gold, - And set with gems of splendors manifold. - - Once in a vast, pale, hollow pearl I stood, - When o’er the vaulted dome there swept a flood - Of lurid waves, and a dark funeral pyre - Took to its heart a globe of crimson fire. - - The pageant faded. Lo! the pearl became - A liquid sapphire, touched with rosy flame; - And as I gazed, a silver crescent hung - In violet depths, a thousand stars among. - - I saw a woman, marvellously fair, - Flushed with warm life, and buoyant as the air; - Next morn she was a statue, breathless, cold, - A marble goddess of transcendent mould. - - I saw a folded bud, in one short hour, - Open its sweet, warm heart and be a flower. - O Wonderland! thou art so near, so far; - Near as this rose, remote as yonder star! - - -THE GUEST - - O thou Guest so long delayed, - Surely, when the house was made, - In its chambers wide and free, - There was set a place for thee. - Surely, in some room was spread - For thy sake a snowy bed, - Decked with linen white and fine, - Meet, O Guest, for use of thine. - - Yet thou hast not kept the tryst. - Other guests our lips have kissed: - Other guests have tarried long, - Wooed by sunshine and by song; - For the year was bright with May, - All the birds kept holiday, - All the skies were clear and blue, - When this house of ours was new. - - Youth came in with us to dwell, - Crowned with rose and asphodel, - Lingered long, and even yet - Cannot quite his haunts forget. - Love hath sat beside our board, - Brought us treasures from his hoard, - Brimmed our cups with fragrant wine, - Vintage of the hills divine. - - Down our garden path has strayed - Young Romance, in light arrayed; - Joy hath flung her garlands wide; - Faith sung low at eventide; - Care hath flitted in and out; - Sorrow strewn her weeds about; - Hope held up her torch on high - When clouds darkened all the sky. - - Pain, with pallid lips and thin, - Oft hath slept our house within; - Life hath called us, loud and long, - With a voice as trumpet strong. - Sometimes we have thought, O Guest, - Thou wert coming with the rest, - Watched to see thy shadow fall - On the inner chamber wall. - - For we know that, soon or late, - Thou wilt enter at the gate, - Cross the threshold, pass the door, - Glide at will from floor to floor. - When thou comest, by this sign - We shall know thee, Guest divine: - Though alone thy coming be, - Someone must go forth with thee! - - -AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN - - An old-fashioned garden? Yes, my dear, - No doubt it is. I was thinking here - Only to-day, as I sat in the sun, - How fair was the scene I looked upon; - Yet wondered still, with a vague surprise, - How it might look to other eyes. - - ’Tis a wide old garden. Not a bed - Cut here and there in the turf; instead, - The broad straight paths run east and west, - Down which two horsemen could ride abreast, - And north and south with an equal state, - From the gray stone wall to the low white gate. - - And, where they cross on the middle line, - Virgin’s-bower and wild woodbine - Clamber and climb at their own sweet will - Over the latticed arbor still; - Though since they were planted years have flown, - And many a time have the roses blown. - - To the right the hill runs down to the river, - Where the willows droop and the aspens shiver, - And under the shade of the hemlock-trees - The low ferns nod to the passing breeze; - There wild flowers blossom, and mosses creep - With a tangle of vines o’er the wooded steep. - - So quiet it is, so cool and still, - In the green retreat of the shady hill! - And you scarce can tell, as you look within, - Where the garden ends and the woods begin. - But here, where we stand, what a blaze of light, - What a wealth of color, makes glad the sight! - - Red roses burn in the morning glow; - White roses proffer their cups of snow; - In scarlet and crimson and cloth-of-gold - The zinnias flaunt, and the marigold; - And stately and tall the lilies stand, - Like vestal virgins, on either hand. - - Here gay sweet-peas, like butterflies, - Flutter and dance under summer skies; - Blue violets here in the shade are set, - With a border of fragrant mignonette; - And here are pansies and columbine, - And the burning stars of the cypress-vine. - - Stately hollyhocks, row on row, - Golden sunflowers, all aglow, - Scarlet poppies, and larkspurs blue, - Asters of every shade and hue; - And over the wall, like a trail of fire, - The red nasturtium climbs high and higher. - - My lady’s-slippers are fair to see, - And her pinks are as sweet as sweet can be, - With gilly-flowers and mourning-brides, - And many another flower besides. - Do you see that rose without a thorn? - It was planted the year my Hal was born. - - And he is a man now. Yes, my dear, - An old-fashioned garden! But, sitting here, - I think how often lover and maid - Down these long flowery paths have strayed, - And how little feet have over them run - That will stir no more in shade or sun. - - As one who reads from an open book, - On these fair luminous scrolls I look; - And all the story of life is there— - Its loves and losses, hope and despair. - An old-fashioned garden—but to my eyes - Fair as the hills of Paradise. - - -DISCONTENT - - -I. - -(_The Brier Rose speaks._) - - I cling to the garden wall - Outside, where the grasses grow; - Where the tall weeds flaunt in the sun, - And the yellow mulleins blow. - The dock and the thistle crowd - Close to my shrinking feet, - And the gypsy yarrow shares - My cup and the food I eat. - - The rude winds toss my hair, - The wild rains beat me down, - The way-side dust lies white - And thick on my leafy crown. - I cannot keep my robes - From wanton fingers free, - And the veriest beggar dares - To stop and gaze at me. - - Sometimes I climb and climb - To the top of the garden wall, - And I see her where she stands, - Stately and fair and tall— - My sister, the red, red Rose, - My sister, the royal one, - The fairest flower that blows - Under the summer sun! - - What wonder that she is fair? - What wonder that she is sweet? - The treasures of earth and air - Lie at her dainty feet; - The choicest fare is hers, - Her cup is brimmed with wine; - Rich are her emerald robes, - And her bed is soft and fine. - - She need not lift her head - Even to sip the dew; - No rude touch makes her shrink - The whole long summer through. - Her servants do her will; - They come at her beck and call. - Oh, rare is life in my lady’s bowers - Inside of the garden wall! - - -II. - -(_The Garden Rose speaks._) - - The garden path runs east, - And the garden path runs west; - There’s a tree by the garden gate, - And a little bird in a nest. - It sings and sings and sings! - Does the bird, I wonder, know - How, over the garden wall, - The bright days come and go? - - The garden path runs north, - And the garden path runs south; - The brown bee hums in the sun, - And kisses the lily’s mouth; - But it flies away, away, - To the birch-tree, dark and tall. - What do you find, O brown bee, - Over the garden wall? - - With ruff and farthingale, - Under the gardener’s eye, - In trimmest guise I stand— - Oh, who so fine as I? - But even the light wind knows - That it may not play with me, - Nor touch my beautiful lips - With a wild caress and free. - - Oh, straight is the garden path, - And smooth is the garden bed, - Where never an idle weed - Dares lift its careless head. - But I know outside the wall - They gather, a merry throng; - They dance and flutter and sing, - And I listen all day long. - - The Brier Rose swings outside; - Sometimes she climbs so high - I can see her sweet pink face - Against the blue of the sky. - What wonder that she is fair, - Whom no strait bonds enthrall? - Oh, rare is life to the Brier Rose, - Outside of the garden wall! - - -THE DOVES AT MENDON - - “Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné, - Calling the doves at Mendon! - - Under the vine-clad porch she stands, - A gentle maiden with willing hands, - Dropping the grains of yellow corn. - Low and soft, like a mellow horn, - While the sunshine over her falls, - Over and over she calls and calls - “Coo! coo! coo!” to the doves— - The happy doves at Mendon. - - “Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné, - Calling the doves at Mendon! - - Down they flutter with timid grace, - Lured by the voice and the tender face, - Till the evening air is all astir - With the happy strife and the eager whir. - One by one, and two by two, - And then a rush through the ether blue; - While Arné scatters the yellow corn - For the gentle doves at Mendon. - - “Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné, - Calling the doves at Mendon! - - They hop on the porch where the baby sits, - They come and go as a shadow flits, - Now here, now there, while in and out - They crowd and jostle each other about; - Till one, grown bolder than all the rest— - A snow-white dove with an arching breast— - Softly lights on her outstretched hand - Under the vines at Mendon. - - “Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné, - Calling the doves at Mendon! - - With a rush and a whir of shining wings, - They hear and obey—the dainty things! - Dun and purple and snowy white, - Clouded gray, like the soft twilight, - Straight as an arrow shot from a bow, - Wheeling and circling high and low, - Down they fly from the slanting roof - Of the old red barn at Mendon. - - “Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné, - Calling the doves at Mendon! - - Baby Alice with wide blue eyes - Watches them ever with new surprise, - While she and Wag on the mat together - Joy in the soft midsummer weather. - Hither and thither she sees them fly, - Gray and white on the azure sky, - Light and shadow against the green - Of the maple grove at Mendon. - - “Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné, - Calling the doves at Mendon! - - A sound, a motion, a flash of wings— - They are gone—like a dream of heavenly things. - The doves have flown and the porch is still, - And the shadows gather on vale and hill. - Then sinks the sun, and the mountain breeze - Stirs in the tremulous maple-trees; - While Love and Peace, as the night comes down, - Brood over quiet Mendon! - - -A LATE ROSE - - I sent a little maiden - To pluck for me a rose, - The sweetest and the fairest - That in the garden grows— - A blush-rose, proud and tender, - Upon its stem so slender, - Swaying in dreamy splendor - Where yellow sunshine glows. - - Back came the little maiden - With drooping, downcast head, - And slow, reluctant footsteps, - And this to me she said: - “I find no sweet blush-roses - In all the garden closes: - There are no summer roses; - It must be they are dead!” - - Then bent I to the maiden - And touched her shining hair— - Dear heart! in all the garden - Was nothing half so fair! - “Nay!” said I, “let the roses - Die in the garden closes - Whenever fate disposes, - If I _this_ rose may wear!” - - -PERIWINKLE - - Tinkle, tinkle, - Periwinkle! - Soft and clear, - Far or near, - Still the mellow notes I hear! - Up and down the sunny hills, - Here you go, there you go, - Where the happy mountain rills - Tinkle soft, tinkle low; - Where the willows, all a-quiver, - Dip their long wands in the river, - And the hemlock shadows fall - By the gray rocks, cool and tall— - In and out, - And round about, - Here you go, - There you go! - - Tinkle, tinkle, - Periwinkle! - Here and there, - Everywhere, - Floats the music on the air! - Through the pastures wide and free, - Here you go, there you go, - Making friends with bird and bee, - Flying high, flying low; - In and out, where lilies blowing - Nod above wild grasses growing, - Where the sweet-fern and the brake - All around rich odors make, - Where the mosses cling and creep - To the rocks, and up the steep— - In and out - You wind about, - Here and there, - Everywhere! - - Tinkle, tinkle, - Periwinkle! - Day is done, - And the sun - Now its royal couch hath won! - Homeward through the winding lane, - Here you go, there you go, - While the bell in sweet refrain - Tinkles clear, tinkles low— - Tinkles softly through the gloaming, - “Drop the bars—I’m tired of roaming - Here and there, everywhere - Through the pastures wide and fair. - Home is best, - Home and rest!” - Through the bars goes Periwinkle, - While the bell goes tinkle, tinkle, - Low and clear, - Saying, softly, “Night is here!” - - -AFTERNOON - - O perfect day, - I bid thee stay! - Too fast thy glad hours slip away; - The morn, the noon, - Have fled too soon— - Delay, O golden afternoon! - - O peerless Sun, - Thou radiant one - Whose dazzling course is half-way run, - Stay, stay thy flight - Down yon blue height, - Nor haste thee to the arms of night! - - The west wind blows - O’er beds of rose, - But does not stir my deep repose. - In dreamful guise - I close mine eyes, - Borne on its wings to Paradise. - - Beneath this tree - Half consciously. - I share the life of all things free, - Hearing the beat - Of rhythmic feet, - As the grasses run my hand to meet. - - The wild bee’s hum, - The lone bird’s drum, - O’er the wide pastures faintly come; - And soft and clear - Falls on my ear - The cow-bell’s tinkle, far and near! - - Before my eyes - Three blue peaks rise, - Piercing the bright autumnal skies; - Silent and grand, - On either hand, - Far mountain heights majestic stand. - - By wreaths of mist - The vales are kissed— - Fair, floating clouds of amethyst, - That follow on, - Through shade and sun, - Where’er the river’s course may run. - - Here, looking down - On roof-trees brown, - I catch fair glimpses of the town. - There, far away, - The shadows play - On crags and bowlders, huge and gray. - - All whispering low, - The breezes go— - The wandering birds flit to and fro; - Winged motes float by - Me as I lie, - And yellow leaves drop silently. - - The morn, the noon, - Have fled too soon— - Delay, O golden afternoon, - While with rapt eyes - My spirit flies - From yon blue peaks to Paradise! - - - THE LADY OF THE PROW - BERMUDA, MAY, 1883 - - - The salt tides ebb, the salt tides flow, - From the near isles the soft airs blow; - From leagues remote, with roar and din, - Over the reefs the waves rush in; - The wild white breakers foam and fret, - Day follows day, stars rise and set; - Yet, grandly poised, as calm and fair - As some proud spirit of the air, - Unmoved she lifts her radiant brow— - She, the White Lady of the Prow! - - The winds blow east, the winds blow west, - From woodlands low to the eagle’s nest; - The winds blow north, the winds blow south. - To steal the sweets from the lily’s mouth! - We come and go; we spread our sails - Like sea-gulls to the favoring gales; - Or, soft and slow, our oars we dip - Under the lee of the stranded ship. - Yet little recks she when or how, - The grand White Lady of the Prow. - - We laugh, we love, we smile, we sigh, - But never she heeds as we glide by— - Never she cares for our idle ways - Nor turns from the brink of the world her gaze! - What does she see when her steadfast eyes - Peer into the sunset mysteries, - And all the secrets of time and space - Seem unfolded before her face? - What does she hear when, pale and calm, - She lists for the great sea’s evening psalm? - - Speak, Lady, speak! Thy sealèd lip, - Thou fair white spirit of the ship, - Could tell such tales of high emprise, - Of valorous deeds and counsels wise! - What prince shall rouse thee from thy trance, - And meet thy first revealing glance, - Or what Pygmalion from her sleep - Bid Galatea wake and weep? - The wave’s wild passion stirs thee not— - Oh, is thy life’s long love forgot? - - How canst thou bear this trancèd calm - By sunlit isles of bloom and balm— - Thou who hast sailed the utmost seas, - Empress alike of wave and breeze; - Thou who hast swept from pole to pole, - Where the great surges swell and roll; - Breasted the billows white with wrath, - Rode in the tempest’s fiery path, - And proudly borne to waiting hands - The glorious spoil of farthest lands? - - How canst thou bear this silence, deep - And tranquil as an infant’s sleep— - Thou who hast heard above thy head - The white sails sing with wings outspread; - Thou whose strong soul has thrilled to feel - The swift rush of the ploughing keel, - The dash of waves, and the wild uproar - Of ocean lashed from shore to shore? - How canst thou bear this changeless rest, - Thou who hast made the world thy quest? - - O Lady of the stranded ship, - Once more our lingering oars we dip - In the clear blue that round thee lies, - Fanned by the airs of Paradise! - Farewell! farewell! But oft when day - On our far hill-tops dies away, - And night’s cool winds the pine-trees bow, - Our eyes will see thee, even as now, - Waiting—a spirit pale and calm— - To hear the great sea’s evening psalm! - - -THOU AND I - - April days are over! - O my gay young lover, - Forth we fare together - In the soft May weather; - Forth we wander, hand in hand, - Seeking an enchanted land - Underneath a smiling sky, - So blithely—thou and I! - - Soft spring days are over! - O my ardent lover, - Many a hill together, - In the July weather, - Climb we when the days are long - And the summer heats are strong, - And the harvest wains go by, - So bravely—thou and I! - - July days are over! - O my faithful lover, - Side by side together - In the August weather, - When the swift, wild storms befall us, - And the fiery darts appall us, - Wait we till the clouds sweep by, - And stars shine—thou and I! - - Summer days are over! - O my one true lover, - Sit we now alone together - In the early autumn weather! - From our nest the birds have flown - To fair dreamlands of their own, - And we see the days go by, - In silence—thou and I! - - Storm and stress are over! - O my friend and lover, - Closer now we lean together - In the Indian-summer weather; - See the bright leaves falling, falling, - Hear the low winds calling, calling, - Glad to let the world go by - Unheeding—thou and I! - - Winter days are over! - O my life-long lover, - Rest we now in peace together - Out of reach of changeful weather! - Not a sound can mar our sleeping— - Breath of laughter, or of weeping, - May not reach us where we lie - Uncaring—thou and I! - - - - -LATER POEMS - - - THE LEGEND OF THE BABOUSHKA - A CHRISTMAS BALLAD - - “There’s a star in the East!” he cried, - Jasper, the gray, the wise, - To Melchior and to Balthazar - Up-gazing to the skies. - - “Last night from my high tower - I watched it as it burned, - While all my trembling soul - In awe and wonder yearned. - - For I know the midnight heavens; - I can call the stars by name— - Orion and royal Ashtaroth - And Cimah’s misty flame. - - I know where Hesper glows, - And where, with fiery eye, - Proud Mars in burning splendor leads - The armies of the sky. - - But never have I seen - A star that shone like this— - The star so long foretold - By sage and seer it is! - - When first I, sleepless, saw it - Slow breaking through the dark— - Nay, hear me, Balthazar, - And thou, O Melchior, hark!— - - When first I saw the star - It bore the form of a child, - It held in its hand a sceptre, - Or the cross of the undefiled. - - Lo! somewhere on the earth - It shines above His rest— - The Royal One, the Babe, - On mortal mother’s breast. - - Now haste we forth to find Him— - To worship at His feet, - To Him of whom the prophets sang - Bearing oblations meet!” - - Then the Three Holy Kings - Went forth in eager haste, - With servants and with camels, - Toward the desert waste. - - Ah! knew they what they bore? - Gold for the earthly king— - Frankincense for the God— - Myrrh for man’s suffering. - - With breath of costly spices - And precious gums of Isis, - The desert air was sweet, - As on they fared by day and night - Judea’s King to greet. - - The strange star went before them, - They followed where it led; - “’Twill guide us to His presence,” - Jasper, the holy, said. - - They crossed deep-flowing rivers, - They climbed the mountains high, - They slept in dreary places - Under the lonely sky. - - One day, where stretched the desert - Before them far and wide, - They saw a smoke-wreath curling - A spreading palm beside; - - And from a lowly dwelling, - On household cares intent, - A woman gazed upon them, - In mute bewilderment. - - “O come with us!” cried Melchior, - And ardent Balthazar, - “We go to find the Christ-child, - Led by yon blazing star! - - Thou knowest how the prophets - His coming long foretold; - We go to kneel before Him - With gifts of myrrh and gold.” - - But she, delaying, answered, - “My lords, your words are good, - And I your pious mission - Have gladly understood, - - Yet I, ere I can join you, - Have many things to do: - I must set my house in order, - Must spin and bake and brew. - - Go ye to find Messiah! - And when my work is done - I will your footsteps follow, - Mayhap ere set of sun.” - - Across the shining desert - The slow train passed from sight; - She set her house in order, - She bleached her linen white. - - With busy hands she labored - Till all at last was done— - But thrice the moon had risen, - And thrice the lordly sun! - - Then bound she on her sandals, - Her pilgrim staff she took; - With bread of wheat and barley, - And water from the brook; - - And forth she went to find Him— - The babe Emmanuel, - Who should be born in Bethlehem - By David’s sacred well. - - All that long day she journeyed; - She scanned the desert wide, - In all its lonely reaches - There was no soul beside— - - No track to guide her onward, - No footprints in the sand, - Only the vast, still spaces - Wide-stretched on either hand! - - Night came—but where the Wise Men - Had seen His burning star, - No glorious sign beheld she - Clear beaming from afar, - - Though Orion and Arcturus - Shone bright above her head, - And up the heavenly arches - Proud Mars his legions led! - - * * * * * - - She did not find the Christ-child. - ’Tis said she seeks Him still, - Over the wide earth roaming - With swift, remorseful will. - - Her thin white locks the dew-fall - Of every clime has wet— - In palace and in hovel - She seeks Messiah yet! - - In every child she fancies - The Hidden One may be, - On each bright head she gazes - The mystic crown to see. - - She twines the Christmas garlands, - She lights the Christmas fires, - She leads the joyful carols - Of all the Christmas choirs; - - She feeds the poor and hungry, - And on her tender breast - She soothes all suffering children - To softest, sweetest rest. - - Attend her, holy Angels! - Guard her, ye Cherubim! - For whatsoe’er she does for these - She does it as to Him! - - - DAYBREAK - AN EASTER POEM - - - Mary Magdalenè, - At the break of day, - Wan with tears and watching - Hasted on her way; - - Bearing costly spices, - Myrrh, and sweet perfume, - Through the shadowy garden - To the Master’s tomb. - - Slowly broke the gray dawn: - On her head the breeze - Shook a rain of dew-drops - From the cypress-trees. - - Rose and lily parted - As to let her pass, - And the violets blessed her - From the tender grass. - - Little heed she paid them; - Christ, the Lord, was dead; - All at last was over, - All at last was said. - - What of hope remainèd? - Black against the sky, - Calvary’s awful crosses - Stretched their arms on high! - - Mary Magdalenè - Made her bitter moan: - “From the sealèd sepulchre - Who shall roll the stone?” - - Swift she ran, her spirit - Filled with awe and fear; - Wide the door stood open - As her feet drew near! - - All the place was flooded - With a radiance bright; - Forth into the darkness - Streamed a holy light. - - Down she stooped, and peering - The dread tomb within, - Saw a great white angel - Where the Lord had been! - - Sore she cried in anguish: - “Who hath him betrayed? - They have taken away my Lord! - Where is he laid?” - - “Nay,” the shining angel, - Calmly smiling, said— - “Why seek ye the living - Down among the dead? - - He is not here, but risen!” - All her soul stood still; - Through her trembling pulses - Ran a conscious thrill. - - “Mary!” said a low voice; - “Rabboni!” answered she. - Then life was brought to light - And immortality! - - Mary Magdalenè, - First of woman born - To see the clear light streaming - O’er the hills of morn; - - First to hail the Lord Christ, - Conqueror of Death, - First to bow before Him - With abated breath; - - First to hear the Master - Say—“From Death’s dark prison, - From its bonds and fetters, - Lo! I have arisen! - - Now to God, my Father— - Mine and yours—I go; - And because I live - Ye shall live also!” - - Didst thou grasp the meaning? - Know that Death was dead? - That the seed of woman - Had bruised the serpent’s head? - - Didst thou know Messiah - The gates of hell had broken, - And life unto its captives - Once for all had spoken? - - O! through all the ages, - Every son of man, - Be he slave or monarch, - Born to bliss or ban— - - Lord, or prince, or peasant, - Jester, sage, or seer, - Wife, or child, or mother, - Priest, or worshipper— - - Through the grave’s lone portals - Soon or late had passed, - But no sign or token - Back to earth had cast! - - In Ramah was a voice heard - Sounding through the years— - Rachel for her children - Pouring sighs and tears; - - Rizpah for her slain sons - Woful vigils keeping; - David for young Absalom - In the chamber weeping! - - All earth’s myriad millions - To their dead had cried, - Empty arms outreaching - In the silence wide, - - Yet from out the darkness - Came nor word, nor sound, - As the long ranks vanished - In the black profound— - - Came no word till Mary - Heard the Angel say— - “Christ the Lord is risen; - The Lord Christ lives to-day!” - - From the empty sepulchre - Streamed the Light Divine; - Grave where is thy victory? - Where, O Death, is thine? - - Mary Magdalenè, - Hope is born again; - Clear the Day-star rises - To the eyes of men. - - Lo! the mists are fleeing! - Shine, O Olivet, - For the crown of promise - On thy brow is set! - - Lift your heads, ye mountains! - Clap your hands, ye hills! - Into rapturous singing - Break, ye murmuring rills! - - Shout aloud, O forests! - Swell the song, O seas! - Wake, resistless ocean, - All your symphonies! - - Wave your palms, O tropics! - Lonely isles, rejoice! - O ye silent deserts, - Find a choral voice! - - Winds, on mighty trumpets, - Blow the strains abroad, - While each star in heaven - Hails its risen Lord! - - “Alleluia! Alleluia!”— - How the voices ring! - “Alleluia! Alleluia!” - Earth and heaven sing! - - Alleluia! Christ is risen! - Chant his praise alway! - From the sealèd sepulchre - Christ is risen to-day! - - -THE APPLE-TREE - - Graceful and lithe and tall, - It stands by the garden wall, - In the flush of its pink-white bloom - Elate with its own perfume. - Tossing its young bright head - In the first glad joy of May, - While its singing leaves sing back - To the bird on the dancing spray. - “I’m alive! I’m abloom!” it cries - To the winds and the laughing skies. - Ho! for the gay young apple-tree - That stands by the garden wall! - - Sturdy and broad and tall, - Over the garden wall - It spreads its branches wide— - A bower on either side. - For the bending boughs hang low; - And with shouts and gay turmoil - The children gather like bees - To garner the golden spoil; - While the smiling mother sings, - “Rejoice for the gift it brings! - Ho! for the laden apple-tree - That stands by our garden wall!” - - The strong swift years fly past, - Each swifter than the last; - And the tree by the garden wall - Sees joy and grief befall. - Still from the spreading boughs - Some golden apples swing; - But the children come no more - For the autumn harvesting. - The tangled grass lies deep - Where the long path used to creep; - Yet ho! for the brave old apple-tree - That leans o’er the crumbling wall! - - Now generations pass, - Like shadows on the grass. - What is there that remains - For all their toil and pains? - A little hollow place - Where once a hearthstone lay; - An empty, silent space - Whence life hath gone away; - Tall brambles where the lilacs grew, - Some fennel, and a clump of rue, - And this one gnarled old apple-tree - Where once was the garden wall! - - -THE COMFORTER - - How dost thou come, O Comforter? - In heavenly glory dressed, - Down floating from the far-off skies, - With lilies on thy breast? - With silver lilies on thy breast, - And in thy falling hair, - Bringing the bloom and balm of heaven - To this dim, earthly air? - - How dost thou come, O Comforter? - With strange, unearthly light, - And mystic splendor aureoled, - In trances of the night? - In lone, mysterious silences, - In visions rapt and high, - And holy dreams, like pathways set - Betwixt the earth and sky? - - Not thus alone, O Comforter! - Not thus, thou Guest Divine, - Whose presence turns our stones to bread, - Our water into wine! - Not always thus—for thou dost stoop - To our poor, common clay, - Too faint for saintly ecstasy, - Too impotent to pray. - - How does God send the Comforter? - Ofttimes through byways dim; - Not always by the beaten path - Of sacrament and hymn; - Not always through the gates of prayer, - Or penitential psalm, - Or sacred rite, or holy day, - Or incense, breathing balm. - - How does God send the Comforter? - Perchance through faith intense; - Perchance through humblest avenues - Of sight, or sound, or sense. - Haply in childhood’s laughing voice - Shall breathe the voice divine, - And tender hands of earthly love - Pour for thee heavenly wine! - - How will God send the Comforter? - Thou knowest not, nor I! - His ways are countless as the stars - His hand hath hung on high. - His roses bring their fragrant balm, - His twilight hush its peace, - Morning its splendor, night its calm, - To give thy pain surcease! - - -SANTA CLAUS - - A voice from out of the northern sky: - “On the wings of the limitless winds I fly, - Swifter than thought over mountain and vale, - City and moorland, desert and dale! - From the north to the south, from the east to the west, - I hasten regardless of slumber or rest; - Oh, nothing you dream of can fly as fast - As I on the wings of the wintry blast! - - The wondering stars look out to see - Who he that flieth so fast may be, - And their bright eyes follow my earthward track - By the gleam of the jewels I bear in my pack. - For I have treasures for high and for low: - Rubies that burn like the sunset glow; - Diamond rays for the crownèd queen; - For the princess, pearls with their silver sheen. - - I enter the castle with noiseless feet— - The air is silent and soft and sweet; - And I lavish my beautiful tokens there— - Fairings to make the fair more fair! - I enter the cottage of want and woe— - The candle is out, and the fire burns low; - But the sleepers smile in a happy dream - As I scatter my gifts by the moon’s pale beam. - - There’s never a home so low, no doubt, - But I in my flight can find it out; - Nor a hut so hidden but I can see - The shadow cast by the lone roof-tree! - There’s never a home so proud and high - That I am constrained to pass it by, - Nor a heart so happy it may not be - Happier still when blessed by me! - - What is my name? Ah, who can tell, - Though in every land ’tis a magic spell! - Men call me that, and they call me this; - Yet the different names are the same, I wis! - Gift-bearer to all the world am I, - Joy-giver, Light-bringer, where’er I fly; - But the name I bear in the courts above, - My truest and holiest name, is—LOVE!” - - - THE ARMORER’S ERRAND - A BALLAD OF 1775 - - - Where the far skies soared clear and bright - From mountain height to mountain height, - In the heart of a forest old and gray, - Castleton slept one Sabbath day— - Slept and dreamed, on the seventh of May, - Seventeen hundred and seventy-five. - - But hark! a humming, like bees in a hive; - Hark to the shouts—“They come! they come!” - Hark to the sound of the fife and drum! - For up from the south two hundred men— - Two hundred and fifty—from mount and glen, - While the deep woods rang with their rallying cry - Of “Ticonderoga! Fort Ti! Fort Ti!” - Swept into the town with a martial tread, - Ethan Allen marching ahead! - - Next day the village was all astir - With unwonted tumult and hurry. There were - Gatherings here and gatherings there, - A feverish heat in the very air, - The ominous sound of tramping feet, - And eager groups in the dusty street. - To Eben’s forge strode Gershom Beach - (Idle it stood, and its master away); - Blacksmith and armorer stout was he, - First in the fight and first in the breach, - And first in work where a man should be. - “I’ll borrow your tools, my friend,” he said, - “And temper these blades if I lose my head!” - - So he wrought away till the sun went down, - And silence fell on the turbulent town; - And the flame of the forge through the darkness glowed, - A square of light on the sandy road. - Then over the threshold a shadow fell, - And he heard a voice that he knew right well. - It was Ethan Allen’s. He cried: “I knew - Where the forge-fire blazed I must look for you! - But listen! more arduous work than this, - Lying in wait for someone is; - And tempering blades is only play - To the task I set for him this day— - Or this night, rather.” A grim smile played - O’er the armorer’s face as his hand he stayed. - “Say on. I never have shirked,” said he; - “What may this wonderful task-work be?” - - “To go by the light of the evening star - On an urgent errand, swift and far— - From town to town and from farm to farm - To carry the warning and sound the alarm! - Wake Rutland and Pittsford! Rouse Neshobè, too, - And all the fair valley the Otter runs through— - For we need more men! Make no delay, - But hasten, hasten, upon your way!” - He doffed his apron, he tightened his belt, - To fasten the straps of his leggings he knelt. - “Ere the clock strikes nine,” said Gershom Beach, - “Friend Allen, I will be out of reach; - And I pledge you my word, ere dawn of day - Guns and men shall be under way. - But where shall I send these minute-men?” - “Do you know Hand’s Cove?” said Allen then, - “On the shore of Champlain? Let them meet me there - By to-morrow night, be it foul or fair!” - - “Good-by, I’m off!” Then down the road - As if on seven-league boots he strode, - While Allen watched from the forge’s door - Till the stalwart form he could see no more. - Into the woods passed Gershom Beach; - By nine of the clock he was out of reach. - But still, as his will his steps outran, - He said to himself, with a laugh, “Old man, - Never a minute have you to lose, - Never a minute to pick or choose; - For sixty miles in twenty-four hours - Is surely enough to try your powers. - So square your shoulders and speed away - With never a halt by night or day.” - - ’Twas a moonless night; but over his head - The stars a tremulous lustre shed, - And the breath of the woods grew strangely sweet, - As he crushed the wild ferns under his feet, - And trampled the shy arbutus blooms, - With their hoarded wealth of rare perfumes. - He sniffed as he went. “It seems to me - There are May-flowers here, but I cannot see. - I’ve read of the ‘hush of the silent night’; - Now hark! there’s a wolf on yonder height; - There’s a snarling catamount prowling round; - Every inch of the ‘silence’ is full of sound; - The night-birds cry; the whip-poor-wills - Call to each other from all the hills; - A scream comes down from the eagle’s nest; - The bark of a fox from the cliff’s tall crest; - The owls hoot; and the very trees - Have something to say to every breeze!” - - The paths were few and the ways were rude - In the depths of that virgin solitude. - The Indian’s trail and the hunter’s tracks, - The trees scarred deep by the settler’s axe, - Or a cow-path leading to the creek,— - These were the signs he had to seek; - Save where, it may be, he chanced to hit - The Crown Point road and could follow it— - The road by the British troops hewn out - Under General Amherst in fifty-nine, - When he drove the French from the old redoubt, - Nor waited to give the countersign! - - The streams were many and swift and clear; - But there was no bridge, or far or near. - It was midnight when he paused to hear - At Rutland, the roar of the waterfall, - And found a canoe by the river’s edge, - In a tangled thicket of reeds and sedge. - With a shout and a cheer, on the rushing tide - He launched it and flew to the other side; - Then giving his message, on he sped, - By the light of the pale stars overhead, - Past the log church below Pine Hill, - And the graveyard opposite. All was still, - And the one lone sleeper lying there - Stirred not either for cry or prayer. - - Only pausing to give the alarm - At rude log cabin and lonely farm. - From hamlet to hamlet he hurries along, - Borne on by a purpose deep and strong. - Look! there’s a deer in the forest glade, - Stealing along like a silent shade! - Hark to the loon that cries and moans - With a living grief in its human tones! - At Pittsford the light begins to grow - In the wakening east; and drifting slow, - From valley and river and wild-wood, rise, - Like the smoke of a morning sacrifice, - Clouds of translucent, silver mist, - Flushing to rose and amethyst; - While thrush and robin and bluebird sing - Till the woods with jubilant music ring! - - It was day at last! He looked around, - With a firmer tread on the springing ground; - “Now the men will be all afield,” said he, - “And that will save many a step for me. - Each man will be ready to go; but still, - I must confess, if I’d had my will, - I’d have waited till after planting-time, - For now the season is in its prime. - The young green leaves of the oak-tree here - Are just the size of a squirrel’s ear; - And I’ve known no rule, since I was born, - Safer than that for planting corn!” - - He threaded the valleys, he climbed the hills, - He forded the rivers, he leaped the rills, - While still to his call, like minute-men - Booted and spurred, from mount and glen, - The settlers rallied. But on he went - Like an arrow shot from a bow, unspent, - Down the long vale of the Otter to where - The might of the waterfall thundered in air; - Then across to the lake, six leagues and more, - Where Hand’s Cove lay in the bending shore. - The goal was reached. He dropped to the ground - In a deep ravine, without word or sound; - And Sleep, the restorer, bade him rest - Like a weary child, on the earth’s brown breast. - - At midnight he woke with a quick heart-beat, - And sprang with a will to his throbbing feet;— - For armed men swarmed in the dim ravine, - And Ethan Allen, as proud of mien - As a king on his throne, smiled down on him, - While he stretched and straightened each stiffened limb. - “Nay, nay,” said the Colonel, “take your rest, - As a knight who has done his chief’s behest!” - - “Not yet!” cried the armorer. “Where’s my gun? - A knight fights on till the field is won!” - And into Fort Ti, ere dawn of day, - He stormed with his comrades to share the fray! - - -FORESHADOWINGS - - Wind of the winter night, - Under the starry skies - Somewhere my lady bright, - Slumbering lies. - Wrapped in calm maiden dreams, - Where the pale moonlight streams, - Softly she sleeps. - - I do not know her face, - Pure as the lonely star - That in yon darkling space - Shineth afar; - Never with soft command - Touched I her willing hand, - Kissed I her lips. - - I have not heard her voice, - I do not know her name; - Yet doth my heart rejoice, - Owning her claim; - Yet am I true to her; - All that is due to her - Sacred I keep. - - Never a thought of me - Troubles her soft repose; - Courant of mine may be - Lily nor rose. - They may not bear to her - This heart’s fond prayer to her, - Yet—she is mine. - - Wind of the winter night, - Over the fields of snow, - Over the hill so white, - Tenderly blow! - Somewhere red roses bloom; - Into her warm, hushed room, - Bear thou their breath. - - Whisper—Nay, nay, thou sprite, - Breathe thou no tender word; - Wind of the winter night, - Die thou unheard. - True love shall yet prevail, - Telling its own sweet tale: - Till then I wait. - - -WON - - Bird, by her garden gate - Singing thy happy song, - Round thee the listening leaves - Joyously throng. - Tell them that yesternight - Under the stars so bright, - I wooed and won her! - - Red rose, rejoice with me! - Swing all thy censers low, - Bid each fair bud of thine - Hasten to blow. - Lift every glowing cup - Brimming with sweetness up, - For—I have won her! - - Wind, bear the tidings far, - Far over hill and dale; - Let every breeze that blows - Swell the glad tale. - River, go tell the sea, - Boundless and glad and free, - That I have won her! - - Stars, ye who saw the blush - Steal o’er her lovely face, - When first her tender lips - Granted me grace, - Who can with her compare, - Queen of the maidens rare? - Yet—I have won her! - - Sun, up yon azure height - Treading thy lofty way, - Ruler of sea and land, - King of the Day— - Where’er thy banners fly, - Who is so blest as I? - I—who have won her! - - Oh, heart and soul of mine, - Make ye the temple clean, - Make all the cloisters pure - Seen and unseen! - Bring fragrant balm and myrrh, - Make the shrine meet for her, - Now ye have won her! - - -BAPTISM OF FIRE - - Happy birds caroling love-songs, winds in the tree-tops at play, - Earth, like an Eden, rejoicing in the beautiful gladness of May! - - Over the mountains a splendor of crimson and amethyst swept: - Gray mists stole up from the valley, the dense shadows after them - crept. - - Down the green aisles of the orchard, pink-white with the promise of - bloom, - Stood the apple-trees, wooing already the brown bees with wealth of - perfume. - - Then sounded the blast of a trumpet, like the cry of a soul in pain, - Crashing of thunder-bolts warring with the hosts of the scourging - rain. - - Till when the raging battalions swept on with resistless sway, - Prone in the path of the tempest the pride of the orchard lay! - - “O beautiful buds close folded, that never will bloom!” I cried, - “Alas for the unfulfilment, alas for the bliss denied!” - - But filling my arms with the branches, I carried them in, where the - fire - Blazed on the glowing hearth-stone like a sacrificial pyre. - - And into the flames I tossed them, when before my startled eyes, - As in a miraculous vision, shone a marvel, a surprise. - - In the heart of the fiery splendor the pale buds, one by one, - Opened to heat of the burning as to kiss of the summer sun! - - - AT THE FEAST - “And the Lord of the Castle is Time.” - - - When the hour has come and the servants wait - The tramp of steeds at the castle gate, - When the lamps aglow in the banquet-hall - Like a thousand stars burn over all, - When the board is spread and the feast is set, - And the dew on the roses lingers yet, - Whom shall the Master summon - To sit at his right hand? - - Let the music soar to the vaulted roof, - Let the flute-notes swell, alow, aloof, - While chief and retainer alike await - The Lord of the Castle who cometh late; - The guests are bidden, the red wine flows, - But not the wisest among them knows - Whom the Master shall summon - To sit at his right hand! - - For the Lord of the Castle, who cometh late, - When he comes, at length, in pomp and state, - And with glitter of mail, and clang of sword, - Strides to his place at the head of the board, - Ofttimes reverses the order set, - Nor beckons to crown or coronet! - Whom he will the Master summons - To sit at his right hand! - - -OVER AND OVER - - “Just the same thing over and over!” - But that is the way of the world, my dear; - Over and over, over and over, - Old things repeated from year to year! - - Hear what the sun saith: “Patient still, - The vaulted heavens I climb and climb, - Over and over with tireless will, - Day after day till the end of time! - - Never a pause and never a rest; - Yet every morning the earth is new, - And ever the clouds in the golden west - Have a fresh glory shining through.” - - Hear what the grass saith: “Up the hills - And through the orchard I creep and creep, - Over the meadows, and where the rills - Laugh in the shadows cool and deep. - - Every spring it is just the same! - And because it is, I am sure to see - The oriole’s flash of vivid flame - In the pink-white bloom of the apple-tree.” - - Hear what dear Love saith: “Ah, I hear - The same old story over and over; - Mother and maiden year by year - Whisper it still to child and lover! - - But sweeter it grows from age to age, - The song begotten so long ago, - When first man came to his heritage, - And walked with God in the even-glow.” - - -A LISTENING BIRD - - A little bird sat on an apple-tree, - And he was as hoarse as hoarse could be; - He preened and he prinked, and he ruffled his throat, - But from it there floated no silvery note. - “Not a song can I sing,” sighed he, sighed he— - “Not a song can I sing,” sighed he. - - In tremulous showers the apple-tree shed - Its pink and white blossoms on his head; - The gay sun shone, and, like jubilant words, - He heard the gay song of a thousand birds. - “All the others can sing,” he dolefully said— - “All the others can sing,” he said. - - So he sat and he drooped. But as far and wide - The music was borne on the air’s warm tide, - A sudden thought came to the sad little bird, - And he lifted his head as within him it stirred. - “If I cannot sing, I can listen,” he cried; - “Ho! ho! I can listen!” he cried. - - -THE FIRST FIRE - - O Virgin hearth, as chaste and cold - As one who waits for burial mould, - Whom shall we summon here to keep - Watch while thou wakest from thy sleep? - - Not from the far sky spaces, blue - As those that Zeus and Hera knew, - May Hestia wing her airy flight, - Bringer of holy warmth and light. - - Pan may not come. By stream and shore - Fair Naiads dry their locks no more; - No Oread dwells in mount and glen; - No Dryad flees from gods or men. - - Yet still do forest voices clear - Greet him whose soul hath ears to hear; - The murmur of the rustling pine - Is sweet as Hermes’s harp divine. - - The winds that rend the mighty oak - Clash loud as Ares’s battle stroke; - The maples toss each leafy crown - Though Dian’s votive wreaths are brown. - - Here, as to sacrificial pyre - Kindled with pure celestial fire, - Shall hemlock, pine, and maple bring - The deep wood’s fragrant offering, - - As incense to this household shrine. - O hearth, no richer spoil were thine - If all Dodona’s oaks had shed - Their life-blood and for thee lay dead! - - Thou waiting one, doth no strange thrill - Thy quickening veins with wonder fill? - Have the far-seeing, prescient years - No presage for thy listening ears? - - Life hath its phases manifold, - Yet still the new repeats the old; - There is no truer truth than this: - What was, is still the thing that is. - - Therefore we know that thou wilt hear - Childhood’s light laughter ringing clear; - The flow of song, the breath of prayer, - Whisper of love, and sigh of care. - - Thou wilt see youth go forth to gauge - His being’s lofty heritage, - And manhood in the autumn eves - Come homeward laden with his sheaves. - - O life and death, O joy and woe, - In mingling streams your tides shall flow, - While sun and storm alike fulfil - The mandates of the Eternal Will! - - Now bring the torch and light the fire, - Let the swift flames leap high and higher, - Let the red radiance stream afar, - Dearer than glow of moon or star! - - Burn, burn, O fire, burn still and clear, - And fill the house with warmth and cheer! - Soar, soar, O fire, so brave, so bright, - And souls shall soar to share thy flight! - - -MIDNIGHT CHIMES - - _Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel!_ - Down yon lonely height - Hear the joyous summons pealing - Through the starry night. - _Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel!_ - Ring the Christmas bells; - From the church-tower on the hill - Clear the music swells. - - Far and near the listening mountains - Bend to catch the strain, - Dome, and peak, and shadowy fastness - Join the glad refrain,— - _Noel! Noel!_ All the pine-trees - Feel a subtile thrill, - And the hemlock groves, responsive, - Whisper and are still. - - _Noel! Noel!_ Through the valley - Where the river goes - In and out between the meadows, - Soft the music flows, - And the river, dumbly sleeping, - Feels its cold heart beat - Answering to the pulsing rhythm - Of the anthem sweet. - - _Noel! Noel!_ Hark! a rustling - On the frosty air, - Where the aspens, all a-quiver, - Bend their branches bare; - Airy birches, stately maples, - Black against the sky, - Wave their leafless boughs like banners - When a king goes by. - - _Noel! Noel!_ Sweet-breathed oxen, - In the farm-yard close, - Lift their horned heads to listen, - Startled from repose; - Then they sleep as slept the white flocks - On Judea’s hills, - While again the olden glory - Earth with rapture fills. - - _Noel! Noel!_ Little children - In their soft nests smile, - Dreaming of fair choiring angels - Floating near the while; - Voiceless snow-birds, half awakened, - Stir their drowsy wings - With, mayhap, a vague, unconscious - Sense of heavenly things. - - _Noel! Noel!_ In the church-yard, - Where the low graves lie, - Light winds bear the strains melodious, - Soft as spirit’s sigh; - Do ye hear it, O ye sleepers, - As it dies and swells? - Hear your ears the mystic music - Of earth’s Christmas bells? - - -MY LADY SLEEP - - In cool gray cloisters walks my Lady Sleep, - Telling her smooth beads slowly, one by one; - Along the wall the stealthy shadows creep; - Night holds the world in thrall, and day is done. - - Sometimes, while winds sigh soft above her head, - Down the long garden path my Lady strays, - And kneeling by the pansies’ purple bed, - Counts the small faces in the moonlit haze. - - Sometimes she lies upon the silver sands, - Following the sea-birds, as they wheel and dip; - Or idly clasps, in still persistent hands, - The shining grains that through her fingers slip. - - Or paces long, with flowing locks all wet, - Where the low thunder booms forevermore, - And the great waves no man hath numbered yet, - Roll, one by one, to break upon the shore. - - Sometimes she counts the brightening twilight stars, - The daisies smiling in the meadow grass, - The slow kine trailing through the pasture bars, - The white sheep loitering in the mountain pass. - - But evermore her hands are cool and calm— - Her quiet voice is ever hushed and low; - And evermore her tranquil lips breathe balm, - And silent as a dream her garments flow. - - She comes, she goes—whence, whither—who can tell? - Angels of God, do ye her secret keep? - Know ye the talisman, the sign, the spell, - The mystic password of my Lady Sleep? - - -THE KING’S TOUCH - - “The King’s touch—there is magic in it! - When the early dawn in the east is red, - And I hear the song of the lark and linnet, - I will rise like a wraith from my sleepless bed. - - Then wrapped in a cloak of hodden gray - I will steal like a shadow over the hills, - And down where the pendulous willows sway, - And the rich, ripe grape its scent distils— - - Till I reach the edge of the forest wide; - And there will I bide, where the still shades are, - Till the King and his huntsmen forth do ride, - And the sweet wild horn rings out afar. - - I will wait and listen until I see - The nodding plumes of the merry men - And the glancing pennants floating free, - A gleam of light in the lonely glen. - - Then low in the dust at his royal feet - I will kneel for the touch of his healing hand; - Perchance he will give ere I entreat, - Before I cry he may understand! - - The King’s proud Leech will be there I trow— - A wise old man with a reverent air— - And the laughing courtiers, row on row; - Yet not unto them will I make my prayer. - - ’Tis the King, the King, who will know it all. - His eye will discover the wound concealed; - He will bend to hear me before I call. - Whom the King touches shall be healed!” - - Was the maiden cured? Ah, none can tell! - She was dust and ashes long ago, - With the proud young king and his leech as well, - And the smiling courtiers, row on row. - - But whether the dawn in the east be red, - Or whether the stars bloom out afield, - This truth remaineth, tho’ myths lie dead: - “Whom the King touches shall be healed!” - - -“BY DIVERS PATHS” - - Unknown to me thy name or state, - Save that a mantle saintly - Of rare and sweet unworldliness - Enfolded thee most quaintly. - - We came and went by divers paths; - We planned nor time, nor meeting; - We spake not, save by nod, or smile, - Or glance of casual greeting. - - Yet, led by some strange chance or fate - To-day by ruined altars, - Where, strained through clustering ivy leaves, - The pitying sunshine falters; - - To-morrow where your blue lakes shine, - And bloom your English daisies; - Or on Helvellyn’s lofty crest - The sunset splendor blazes; - - Or where deep organ-thunders roll - Through grand cathedral arches, - And stately Durham’s triple towers - Look toward the Scottish marches; - - Thus, here and there, we met, nor knew - Each other’s name nor mission, - The while a subtile kinship grew - To silent recognition. - - At length where stretched a princely street - In long, receding splendor, - Down which the golden sunshine threw - A radiance warm and tender; - - While far above us, frowning, hung - A castle old and hoary, - Stern on its battlemented heights - Renowned in song and story; - - And near us, throned in marble state, - O’er time and death victorious, - _He_ sat, the magic of whose pen - Made king and castle glorious— - - There, face to face, once more we met, - Like leaves in autumn weather, - That blown afar by varying winds, - Yet drift again together. - - A look, a smile, and “Is it thou?” - A little low, sweet laughter, - Just one close clasp of meeting hands, - And then, a moment after, - - Between us swept the surging crowd - And we were borne asunder. - O, friend unknown, in what far land - Will we next meet, I wonder? - - -THE BLIND BIRD’S NEST - -“The nest of the blind bird is built by God.”—TURKISH PROVERB. - - Thou who dost build the blind bird’s nest, - Am I not blind? - Each bird that flyeth east or west - The track can find. - - Each bird that flies from north to south - Knows the far way; - From mountain’s crest to river’s mouth - It does not stray. - - Not one in all the lengthening land, - In all the sky, - Or by the ocean’s silver strand, - Is blind as I! - - And dost Thou build the blind bird’s nest? - Build Thou for me - Some shelter where my soul may rest - Secure in Thee. - - Close clinging to the bending bough, - Bind it so fast - It shall not loose if high or low - Blows the loud blast. - - If fierce storms break, and the wild rain - Comes pelting in, - Cover the shrinking nest, restrain - The furious din. - - At sultry noontide, when the air - Trembles with heat, - Draw close the leafy covert where - Cool shadows meet. - - And when night falleth, dark and chill, - Let one fair star, - Love’s star all luminous and still, - Shine from afar. - - Thou who dost build the blind bird’s nest - Build Thou for me; - So shall my being find its rest - Forevermore in Thee. - - -TWO PATHS - - A Path across a meadow fair and sweet, - Where clover-blooms the lithesome grasses greet, - A path worn smooth by his impetuous feet. - - A straight, swift path—and at its end, a star - Gleaming behind the lilac’s fragrant bar, - And her soft eyes, more luminous by far! - - * * * * * - - A path across the meadow fair and sweet, - Still sweet and fair where blooms and grasses meet— - A path worn smooth by his reluctant feet. - - A long, straight path—and, at its end, a gate - Behind whose bars she doth in silence wait - To keep the tryst, if he comes soon or late! - - -ST. JOHN’S EVE - - The veil is thin between - The seen and the unseen— - Thinner to-night than the transparent air; - All heaven and earth are still, - Save when from some far hill - Floateth the nightbird’s unavailing prayer; - Up from the mountain bars - Climb the slow, patient stars, - Only to faint in moonlight white and rare! - - Ere earth had grown too wise - To commerce with the skies, - On this midsummer night the men of old - Believed the dead drew near, - Believed that they could hear - Voices long silent speaking from the mould, - Believed whoever slept - Unearthly vigil kept - Where his own death-knell should at last be tolled. - - In solemn midnight marches - Beneath dark forest arches - They fancied that their hungry souls found God; - His angels clad in light - Stole softly through the night, - Leaving no impress on the yielding sod, - And bore to mortal ears - Tidings from other spheres, - The undiscovered way no man hath trod. - - Ah! what if it were true? - Then would I call ye who - Have one by one beyond my vision flown; - I would set wide the door - Ye enter now no more - Crying, “Come in from out the void unknown! - Come as ye came of old - Laden with love untold”— - Hark! was that nothing but the night wind’s moan? - - -A LITTLE SONG - - Little song I fain would sing, - Why dost thou elude me so? - Like a bird upon the wing, - Sailing high, sailing low, - Yet forever out of reach, - Thou dost vex me beyond measure, - Unallured by prayer or speech, - Waiting thine own time and pleasure! - - Well I know thee, tricksy sprite— - I could call thee by thy name; - I have wooed thee day and night, - Yet thou wilt not own my claim. - Hark! thou’rt hovering even now - In the soft still air above me— - Fantasy or dream art thou, - That my heart’s cry cannot move thee? - - Little song I never sang, - Thou art sweeter than the strain - That through starry mazes rang, - First-born child of joy and pain. - I shall sing thee not; but surely - From some all-compelling voice - Swelling high, serenely, purely, - I shall hear thee and rejoice! - - -THE PRINCES’ CHAMBER - - I stood upon Tower Hill, - Bright were the skies and gay, - Yet a cloud and a sudden chill - Passed over the summer day— - A thrill, and a nameless dread, - As of one who waits alone - Where gather the silent dead - Under the charnel stone. - - For before my shrinking eyes - They glided, one by one, - The great, the good, the wise, - Who here to death were done; - Sinners and saints they came - With blood-stained garments on, - Reckless of praise or blame, - Or battles lost or won. - - Then over the moat I passed - And paused at the Traitors’ Gate; - Did I hear a trumpet’s blast, - Forerunner of deadly fate? - Lo! up the stairs from the river, - Where the sombre shadows crept, - With none to help or deliver, - Kings, queens, and princes swept! - - O, some of those royal dames - Drooped, with dishevelled hair, - And mien of one who claims - Close kindred with despair! - And some were proud and cold, - With eyes that blazed like stars, - As under that archway old - They passed to their prison-bars. - - To prison-bars or death! - Fair, hapless Anne Boleyn; - That haughty maid, Elizabeth; - Northumberland’s pale queen; - Margaret Plantagenet, - Her gray locks floating wild— - How the line lengthens yet, - Knight, prelate, statesman, child! - - Fiercely the black portcullis - Frowned as I onward went; - The Bloody Tower is this— - Strong tower of dread portent! - “Show me the Princes’ Chamber,” - To the Yeoman Guard I said; - O, the stairs were steep to clamber, - And the rough vault dark o’erhead! - - No sigh in the sunny room, - No moan from the groined roof, - No wail of expectant doom - Echoed alow, aloof! - But instead a mother sang - To a child upon her knee, - Whose peals of laughter rang - Like sweet bells mad with glee. - - Sunshine for murky air, - Smiles for the sob of pain, - Joy for dark despair, - Hope where sweet hope was slain! - “Art thou happy here,” I cried, - “Where once was lonely woe, - And the royal children died,— - Murdered so long ago?” - - She smiled. “O, lady, yes! - Earth hath forgotten them; - See how my roses press, - Blooming on each fair stem! - The princes, they sleep sound, - But love nor joy are dead; - I fear no haunted ground, - I have my child,” she said. - - -WONDERLAND - - Wonderland is here and there; - Wonderland is everywhere; - Fly not then to east or west - On some far, uncertain quest. - - Seek not India nor Japan, - Nor the city Ispahan, - Where to-day the shadows brood - Over lonely Zendarood. - - Somewhere smileth far Cathay - Through the long resplendent day; - Somewhere, moored in purple seas, - Sleep the fair Hesperides. - - Somewhere, in vague realms remote - Over which strange banners float, - Lies, all bathed in silver gleams, - The dear Wonderland of dreams. - - Yet no need to sail in ships - Where the blue sea dips and dips, - Nor on wings of cloud to fly - Where the haunts of faery lie. - - For by miracle of morn - Each successive day is born; - And wherever shines the sun, - There enchanted rivers run! - - Would you go to Wonderland? - Lo! it lieth close at hand; - Wonderland is wheresoe’er - Eyes can see and ears can hear! - - - IN A GALLERY - (ANTWERP, 1891) - - - The Virgin floating on the silver moon; - Madonna Mary with her holy child; - Pale Christs on shuddering crosses lifted high; - Sweet angel faces, bending from the blue; - Saints rapt from earth in ecstasy divine, - And martyrs all unmindful of their pain; - Bold, mail-clad knights; fair ladyes whom they loved; - Brown fisher-boys and maidens; harvest-fields, - Where patient women toiled; with here and there - The glint of summer skies and summer seas, - And the red glow of humble, household fires! - - Breathless I stood and silent, even as one - Who, seeing all, sees nothing. Then a face - Down the long gallery drew me as a star; - A winsome, beckoning face, with bearded lips - Just touched with dawning laughter, and clear eyes - That kept their own dear secret, smiling still - With a soft challenge. Dark robes lost in shade, - Laces at throat and wrist, an ancient chair, - And a long, slender hand whose fingers held - Loosely a parchment scroll—and that was all. - Yet from those high, imperial presences, - Those lofty ones uplifted from dear earth - With all its loves and longings, back I turned - Again and yet again, lured by the smile - That called me like a voice, “Come hither, friend!” - - “Simon de Vos,” thus saith the catalogue, - And “Painted by himself.” - Three hundred years - Thou hast been dust and ashes. I who write - And they who read, we know another world - From that thine eyes looked out on. Wouldst thou smile, - Even as here thou smilest, if to-day - Thou wert still of us? O, thou joyous one, - Whose light, half-mocking laughter hath outlived - So much earth held more precious, let thy lips - Open and answer me! Whence was it born, - The radiance of thy tender, sparkling face? - What manner of man wert thou? For the books - Of the long generations do not tell! - Art thou a name, a smile, and nothing more? - What dreams and visions hadst thou? Other men - Would pose as heroes; would go grandly down - To coming ages in the martyr’s _rôle_; - Or, if perchance they’re poets, set their woes - To wailing music, that the world may count - Their heart-throbs in the chanting of a song. - Immortal thou, by virtue of one smile! - - - IN MARBLE PRAYER - (CANTERBURY, 1891) - - - So still, so still they lie - As centuries pass by, - Their pale hands folded in imploring prayer; - They never lift their eyes - In sudden, sweet surprise; - The wandering winds stir not their heavy hair - Forth from their close-sealed lips - Nor moan, nor laughter, slips, - Nor lightest sigh to wake the entrancèd air! - - Yet evermore they pray! - We creatures of a day - Live, love, and vanish from the gaze of men; - Nations arise and fall; - Oblivion’s heavy pall - Hides kings and princes from all human ken, - While these in marble state, - From age to age await - The rolling thunder of the last amen! - - Not in dim crypts alone, - Or aisles of fretted stone, - Where high cathedral altars gleam afar; - And the red light streams down - On mitre and on crown, - Till each proud jewel blazes like a star; - But where the tall grass waves - O’er long-forgotten graves, - Their silent worship no rude sounds can mar! - - Dost Thou not hear and heed? - O, in Earth’s utmost need - Wilt Thou not hearken, Thou who didst create? - Not for themselves they pray - Whose woes have passed for aye; - For us, for us, before Thy throne they wait! - Thou Sovereign Lord of All, - On whom they mutely call, - Hear Thou and answer from thine high estate! - - -NOCTURNE - - O bird beneath the midnight sky! - As on my lonely couch I lie, - I hear thee singing in the dark— - Why sing not I? - - No star-gleams meet thy wakeful eye; - No fond mate answers to thy cry; - No other voice, through all the dark, - Makes sweet reply. - - Yet never skylark soaring high - Where sunlit clouds rejoicing lie, - Sang as thou singest in the dark, - Not mute as I! - - O lone, sweet spirit! tell me why - So far thy ringing love-notes fly, - While other birds, hushed by the dark, - Are mute as I? - - No prophecy of morn is nigh; - Yet as the sombre hours glide by, - Bravely thou singest in the dark— - Why sing not I? - - -COME WHAT MAY - - Come what may— - Though what remaineth I may not know, - Nor how many times the rose may blow - For my delight, or whether the years - Shall be set to the chime of falling tears, - Or go on their way rejoicing— - Yet, come what may, - I have had my day! - - Come what may— - The lurid storm or the sunset peace, - The lingering pain or the swift release, - Lonely vigils and watchings long, - Passionate prayer or soaring song, - Or silence deep and golden— - Still, come what may, - I have had my day! - - Come what may, - I have known the fiery heart of youth, - Its rapturous joy, its bitter ruth; - I have felt the thrill of the eager doer, - The quick heart-throb of the swift pursuer, - The flush of glad possession— - And, come what may, - I have had my day! - - Come what may, - I have learned that out of the night is born - The mystic flower of the early morn; - I have learned that after the frost of pain - The lily of peace will bloom again, - And the rose of consolation. - Then, come what may, - I have had my day! - - -NUREMBERG - - Over the wide, tumultuous sea - In trancèd hours I dream of thee, - Ancient city of song and myth, - Whose name is a name to conjure with, - And make the heart throb, Nuremberg! - - I see thee fair in the white moonlight; - The stars are asleep at noon of night, - Save one that between St. Lawrence’ spires - Kindles aloft its silver fires— - A flaming cresset, Nuremberg! - - Leaning over thy river’s brim - Crowd the red roofs and oriels dim, - While under its bridges glide and gleam - The rippling waves of a silent stream, - Sparkling and darkling, Nuremberg! - - Oh, the charm of each haunted street, - Ways where Beauty and Duty meet; - Sculptured miracles soaring free - In temple and mart for all to see, - Wherever the light falls, Nuremberg! - - Even thy beggars lift their eyes, - Finding ever some new surprise; - Even thy children pause from play, - To hear what thy graven marbles say, - Thy myriad voices, Nuremberg! - - Other cities for crown and king - Wide their glorious banners fling, - Lifting high on the azure field - Blazoned trophies of sword and shield, - That pierce the far skies, Nuremberg! - - But thou, O city of old renown, - Thou dost painter and sculptor crown; - Thou dost give to the poet bays, - Immortelles for the deathless lays - Chanted for thee, fair Nuremberg! - - They are thy Lords of High Degree, - Marvels of art who wrought for thee, - Toiling on with tireless will - Till the wondrous hands in death were still. - Being dead, they yet speak, Nuremberg! - - They were dust and ashes long ago; - Over their graves the sweet winds blow; - Yet they are alive whom men call dead— - This is thy spell, when all is said; - This is thy glory, Nuremberg! - - -A MATER DOLOROSA - - Then down the street came Giacomo, flushed - With wine and laughter. I can see him now, - With Giulio, Florian, and young Angelo, - Arms interlaced, hands clasped, a roisterous crew - Of merry, harmless idlers. Ah, so long, - So long ago it was! Yet I can see - Just how the campanile shone that night - Like molten silver, while its carven saints - Prayed in the moonlight. Then a shadow crept - Over the moon’s face; and it grew so dark - That the red star in Giacomo’s cap - Paled and went out, and Giulio’s shoulder-clasp - Lost all the lustre of its burnished gold, - And faded out of sight. Strange, how we lose - So much we would remember, and yet keep - Trifles like this until the day of doom! - They had swept past me where I stood in shade - When Giacomo turned. Just then the moon - Shone out again, illumining the place, - And he paused laughing, catching sight of me - There by the fountain.—Nay, sweet Signor, nay! - I was young then, and some said I was fair; - But I loved not Giacomo, nor he me.— - Back he came crying, “Little one, take heed! - Know you Fra Alessandro? He would have - A model for his picture. Go you then - To-morrow to his studio and say - Giacomo sent you. At the convent there, - Near Santa Croce.” - So I thither went - Early next morning, trembling as I stole - Into the master’s presence. A grave man - Of most unworldly aspect, with bowed head - And pale chin resting on his long, thin hand, - He sat before an easel, lost in thought. - “Giacomo sent me,” said I, creeping in, - And then stood breathless. Swift as light he turned, - But smiled not, spoke not, while his searching eye - For minutes that seemed hours scanned my face, - Reading it line by line. Signor, it seemed - As if the judgment-day had come, and God - Sat on the great white throne! At length he spoke, - Nodding as one content—“To-morrow morn - I pray thee come thou hither. Canst thou bring - A little child with thee—some fair, sweet child - Whose eyes are like the morning?” - Then I said, - Bethinking me of Beppo’s little boy - Whose mother died last week—“Yes, I will come - Surely, my father, and will bring with me - The fairest child in Florence.” “It is well,” - Softly he answered, and a sudden light - Made his pale face all glorious. At the door - I paused, and looking backward saw him bow - Before the easel as before a shrine. - I know not if he prayed, but never saint - Had aspect more divine. - Next day I went - With little Nello to the studio. - Impatiently the Frate greeted us, - Palette in hand. “So!—Thou art come at last?” - But as I drew the cap from Nello’s head - And the moist tendrils of his golden hair - Fell softly on his forehead, he cried out: - “The boy is like an angel! And thy face, - Thy face, my daughter, I have seen in dreams, - But in dreams only. So, then, stand thou there, - And let the boy sit throned upon thine arm, - As thus, or thus.” - The child was half afraid; - And round my neck he clasped his clinging arms, - Lifting his face to mine, a questioning face, - Filled with soft, startled wonder. While I held - Him close and soothed him, Alessandro cried, - “O, hold him thus forever! Do not stir! - I paint a virgin for an altar-piece. - And thou and this fair child——” - Even while he spoke - He turned back to the easel; but I sprang - From the low pedestal, and, with the boy - Still in my arms, I fell down at his feet. - “Not that, not that, my father!” swift I cried, - While my hot forehead touched his garment’s hem; - “Not that, for God’s sake! Paint me otherwise. - Paint me as martyr, or as Magdalen, - As saint, or sibyl—whatsoe’er you will, - Only not that, not that!” - Smiling he stooped - And raised me from the ground, and took the child - In unaccustomed arms all tenderly, - Placing his brown beads in the dimpled hand. - “But why ‘not that,’ my daughter? Nothing else - Ever paint I! Not saint, nor Magdalen, - Only the Virgin and her Holy Child.” - Then suddenly I saw it all—the light - Dim in cathedral aisles, the kneeling crowds, - The swinging censers, candles burning clear, - With flash of jewels, splendor and perfume, - The high white altar, and above a face, - _My_ face, pale shining through the scented gloom - Like a lone star! Then in the hush a voice - Chanted “Hail, Mary”—and my heart stood still. - I who had been a sinner, could I dare - Thus to mock God and man? Low at his feet - Again I fell, and there I told him all - As he had been my soul’s confessor, poured - My very heart out. Signor, life is hard - And cruel to child-women, when the street - Is their sole nursing mother. I had had - No friend, no home, save when old Barbara - In some rare mood of pity let me creep - Under her wing for shelter. Then she died, - And even that poor semblance of a home - Was mine no longer. Yet, as the years went on, - Out of the dust and moil I grew as tall - And fair as lily in a garden plot, - Shut in by ivied cloisters—Let it pass!— - God knows how girls are tempted when false love - Comes with beguiling words and tender lips, - Promising all things, and their barren lives - Break into sudden bloom as when a bud - Unfolds its shining petals in the sun - And joys to be a rose! - No word he spake, - Fra Alessandro, sitting mute and pale. - But Nello, wondering at my sighs and tears, - Dropped the brown rosary and thrust his hands - Into the shining masses of my hair, - Pulling the bodkin out, and lifted up - My wet, wan face to kiss it. God is good; - And even in that dark hour a thrill of joy - Ran through my soul as the pure lips met mine. - Still I knelt, waiting judgment, with the child - Clasped to my bosom, daring not to raise - My eyes to the face above me. Well I knew - It was the priest’s face, not the painter’s, now! - Was it his voice that through the silence stole, - “A little child shall lead them,” murmuring low? - Just for one instant on my head a hand - Fell as in benediction. Then he said - “Arise, my daughter, and come thou with me - Where bide the holy sisters of St. Clare, - Ruled by their abbess, saintliest of all - The saintly sisterhood. By work and prayer, - Fasting and penance, thou shalt purge thy soul - Of all iniquity, and make it clean.” - Startled I answered him—“But who will care - For Nello then? His mother died last week, - And Beppo’s heart is buried in her grave— - He cares not for the child, nor gives him love.” - But with a wide sweep of his beckoning arm - Down the long cloisters strode he, and across - The heated pavement of the market-place, - Nor looked to see if we were following him - Until he paused before the convent gate; - Then rang the bell, and in the pause I heard - The sisters chanting, and grew faint with shame. - “Fear not, my child,” Fra Alessandro said. - “Here comes Jacinta. Go you in with her, - And straightway tell the abbess all the tale - Told unto me this day. Farewell! ”The gate - Swung to with iron clang, and Nello’s arms - Half strangled me as round my neck he clung, - Awed by the holy stillness. - Since that hour - I with the humble sisters of St. Clare - Have given myself to deeds of mercy, works - Meet for repentance, ministering still - Unto all souls that suffer, even as now - I minister to you. - But what, you ask, - Of the boy Nello? Beppo died that year— - God rest his soul!—and the child ’bode with us. - But when the lad drew nigh to man’s estate— - Too old for women’s guidance—he was found - Oftener than elsewhere at the studio - Of old Fra Alessandro. He became - A painter, Signor, and men call him great. - I know not if he is—but you can see - His pictures yonder in San Spirito. - You’ve seen them? seen my face there? now you know - Whence comes the semblance that has puzzled you - Through all these weeks of languor? - It may be. - I am too old to care now, have outlived - Youth and its petty consciousness. My face - Is mine no longer. It is God’s alone. - A Mater Dolorosa?—It is well! - - -AFTER LONG WAITING - - After long waiting when my soul puts off - This mortal vesture and is free to go - Through all God’s universe in search of thee, - How shall it find thee, O, beloved and lost? - - Through the wide, shadowy spaces, through the deep - Profound abysses where the dim spheres roll; - Through starry mazes and through violet seas, - And purple reaches stretched from world to world; - - Beyond the bounds of all it hath conceived, - Where knowledge falters and where reason fails, - And only faith’s strong pinion dares to soar, - How shall it make its lonely way to thee? - - In that far realm what myriads abide! - When I have reached it, wilt thou find me, dear? - One grain of sand beside the unresting sea— - One blade of grass where endless prairies roll! - - I shall have changed, O love, I shall have changed! - The face you knew I shall no longer wear; - For few or many though the years may be, - My youth fled with thee to the shore unknown. - - I have grown older here, whilst thou beneath - The tree of life hast found thy youth again; - I have grown faint, while strong, exultant, free, - Thy swift, glad feet scale the blue heights of God. - - O friend and lover, go thou not too far! - Delay, delay, thine upward soaring flight, - Lest when I come, all tremulous with joy, - I fail to find thee on the heavenly hills! - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Poems, by Julia C. 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R. (Caroline Ripley) Dorr - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Poems - -Author: Julia C. R. (Caroline Ripley) Dorr - -Release Date: June 15, 2017 [EBook #54912] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS *** - - - - -Produced by Larry B. Harrison, Paul Marshall 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="chap" /> -<div class="figcenter covernote"> - <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Title Page." width="600" height="770" /> -</div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p> -<h1>POEMS<br /><br />BY JULIA C. R. DORR</h1> -<hr class="r5" /> -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/i_frontis.jpg" alt="Frontispiece" width="500" height="673" /> -</div> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p class="f200 space-above2 space-below2"><b>POEMS</b></p> -<p class="f90">BY</p> -<p class="f110 space-below3">JULIA C. R. DORR</p> -<p class="f90 space-above2 space-below3">COMPLETE EDITION</p> -<p class="center">NEW YORK</p> -<p class="f110">CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> -<p class="center space-below3">MDCCCXCII</p> - -<p class="center space-below3"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1879, 1885, 1892, -<span class="smcap">by</span><br />CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS</p> - -<p class="f90">TROW DIRECTORY<br />PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY<br />NEW YORK</p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> -<h2><i>TO S. M. D.</i></h2> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Let us go forth and gather golden-rod!</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>O love, my love, see how upon the hills,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Where still the warm air palpitates and thrills,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And earth lies breathless in the smile of God,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Like plumes of serried hosts its tassels nod!</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>All the green vales its golden glory fills;</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>By lonely waysides and by mountain rills</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Its yellow banners flaunt above the sod.</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Perhaps the apple-blossoms were more fair;</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Perhaps, dear heart, the roses were more sweet,</i></span> -<span class="i4"><i>June’s dewy roses, with their buds half blown;</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Yet what care we, while tremulous and rare</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>This golden sunshine falleth at our feet</i></span> -<span class="i4"><i>And song lives on, though summer birds have flown?</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>August, 1884.</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Let the words stand as they were writ, dear heart!</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Although no more for thee in earthly bowers</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Shall bloom the earlier or the later flowers;</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Although to-day ’tis springtime where thou art,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>While I, with Autumn, wander far apart,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Yet, in the name of that long love of ours,</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Tested by years and tried by sun and showers,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Let the words stand as they were writ, dear heart!</i></span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="f200"><b>CONTENTS</b></p> -<table class="space-below3" border="0" cellspacing="2" summary="Table of Contents." cellpadding="2"> - <tbody><tr> - <td class="tdl"> </td> - <td class="tdr">  <small>PAGE</small></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Dedication. To S. M. D.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_v"> v</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><br />EARLIER POEMS.</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Three Ships</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#three_ships"> 3</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Maud and Madge</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_6"> 6</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Mother’s Question</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_8"> 8</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Over the Wall</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_9"> 9</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Outgrown</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Song for Two</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Picture</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hymn to Life</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Chimney Swallow</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Heirship</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hilda, Spinning</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_22">22</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hereafter</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25">25</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Without and Within</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Vashti’s Scroll</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">What my Friend Said to Me</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37">37</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Hymn.</span> For the Dedication of a Cemetery,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Yesterday and To-day</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_39">39</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Lyric.</span> For the Dedication of a Music-Hall,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41">41</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">What I Lost</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43">43</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Once!</span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Catharine</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47">47</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Name</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Under the Palm-Trees</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49">49</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Night and Morning</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_51">51</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Agnes</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Into Thy Hands</span>,”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55">55</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Idle Words</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Sparrow to the Skylark</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58">58</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Bell of St. Paul’s</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60">60</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">December 26, 1910.</span> A Ballad of Major Anderson,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62">62</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">From Baton Rouge</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66">66</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the Wilderness</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Charley of Malvern Hill</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70">70</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Supplicamus</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73">73</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Last of Six</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_75">75</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Drummer Boy’s Burial</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Eighteen Hundred and Sixty-five</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Our Flags at the Capitol</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">My Mocking-Bird</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_86">86</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Coming Home</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wakening Early</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_90">90</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Blest</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Helen</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_94">94</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><br />“PRO PATRIA.”</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Dead Century</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The River Otter</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_106">106</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Past and Present</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Vermont</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Gettysburg.</span> 1863-1889.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_126">126</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">No More the Thunder of Cannon</span>,”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_133">133</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Grant</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_135">135</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><br />FRIAR ANSELMO, AND OTHER POEMS.</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Friar Anselmo</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The King’s Rosebud</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_146">146</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Somewhere</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_147">147</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Peradventure</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_148">148</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Rena.</span> A Legend of Brussels,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Secret</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_159">159</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">This Day</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_161">161</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">Christus</span>!”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_163">163</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Kiss</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_167">167</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">What She Thought</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">What Need</span>?</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Two</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_172">172</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Unanswered</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_175">175</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Clay to the Rose</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At the Last</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_180">180</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">To the “Bouquet Club</span>,”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_181">181</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Eventide</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_182">182</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">My Lovers</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_184">184</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Legend of the Organ-builder</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_186">186</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Butterfly and Baby Blue</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_190">190</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">King Ivan’s Oath</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_192">192</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At Dawn</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_199">199</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In Memoriam</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Weaving the Web</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_203">203</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The “Christus” of Oberammergau</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Rabbi Benaiah</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Child’s Thought</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_209">209</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">God Knows</span>,”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Mountain Road</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_213">213</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Entering In</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Flower for the Dead</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thou Knowest</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_219">219</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Winter</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_220">220</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Five</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_221">221</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Unsolved</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_223">223</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Quietness</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Difference</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_227">227</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">My Birthday</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Red Rose</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_231">231</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Twenty-one</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Singing in the Dark</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_235">235</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thomas Moore</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Last Word</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_238">238</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><br />SONNETS.</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Sonnet.</span> I. To a Critic.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sonnet_i">241</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"> "  "   II. To a Poet.</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#sonnet_ii">241</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At Rest</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_243">243</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Too Wide</span>!</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mercédès</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Grass-Grown</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_246">246</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">To Zülma</span>, I., II.,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_247">247</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sleep</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_249">249</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In King’s Chapel</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_250">250</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">To-day</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_251">251</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">F. A. F.</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Day and Night</span>, I., II.,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_253">253</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thy Name</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Resurgamus</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_256">256</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At the Tomb</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Three Days</span>, I., II., III.,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_258">258</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Darkness</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_260">260</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Silence</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_261">261</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sanctified</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Message</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">When Lesser Loves</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_264">264</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">George Eliot</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_265">265</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Knowing</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_266">266</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Thought</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">To-morrow</span>, I., II.,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_268">268</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">O Earth! Art Thou not Weary</span>?”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_270">270</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Alexander</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_271">271</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Place</span>, I., II., III., - <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span></td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_272">272</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">To a Goddess</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">O. W. H.</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_275">275</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Gifts for the King</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_276">276</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Recognition</span>, I., II.,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Shakespeare</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_279">279</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">To E. C. S.</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_280">280</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Christmas Sonnet</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_281">281</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Poverty</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_282">282</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Surprises</span>, I., II.,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_283">283</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">C. H. R.</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_285">285</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A New Beatitude</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_286">286</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Compensation</span>, I., II.,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_287">287</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Questionings</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Remembrance</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_290">290</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In the High Tower</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><br />AFTERNOON SONGS.</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Four O’Clocks</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_295">295</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Dream of Songs Unsung</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_296">296</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Questioning a Rose</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_304">304</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Fallow Field</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Out and In</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_309">309</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Her Flowers</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Three Laddies</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Summer</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_314">314</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thornless Roses</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_315">315</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Treasure-Ships</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Choosing</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_318">318</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Not Mine</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_320">320</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Chamber of Silence</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_322">322</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Three Roses</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_325">325</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Four Letters</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Valdemar</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_328">328</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Jubilate</span>!</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_338">338</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Easter Lilies</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_339">339</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">O, Wind that Blows Out of the West</span>,”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Summer Song</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_342">342</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Urn</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_344">344</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Parson’s Daughter</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_345">345</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">March Fourth</span>, 1881-1882,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_348">348</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Roy</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_350">350</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Painter’s Prayer</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_351">351</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">From Exile</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_354">354</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Mother-Song</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_358">358</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Easter Morning</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_359">359</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Sealed Orders</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_363">363</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">An Anniversary</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Martha</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_367">367</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Hour</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_368">368</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Closed Gate</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_369">369</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Content</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_371">371</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">My Wonderland</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_373">373</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Guest</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">An Old-fashioned Garden</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_377">377</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Discontent</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_380">380</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Doves at Mendon</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_383">383</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Late Rose</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_386">386</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Periwinkle</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_387">387</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Afternoon</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_389">389</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Lady of the Prow</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_392">392</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Thou and I</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_395">395</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdc" colspan="2"><br />LATER POEMS.</td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Legend of the Baboushka.</span></td> - <td class="tdr"> </td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">    A Christmas Ballad,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_399">399</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Daybreak.</span> An Easter Poem,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_405">405</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Apple-Tree</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_411">411</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Comforter</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_413">413</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Santa-Claus</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_415">415</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Armorer’s Errand</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_417">417</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Foreshadowings</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_423">423</a><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Won</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_425">425</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Baptism of Fire</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_427">427</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">At the Feast</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_429">429</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Over and Over</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_430">430</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Listening Bird</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_432">432</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The First Fire</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_433">433</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Midnight Chimes</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_436">436</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">My Lady Sleep</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_438">438</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The King’s Touch</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_440">440</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl">“<span class="smcap">By Divers Paths</span>,”</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_442">442</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Blind Bird’s Nest</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_444">444</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Two Paths</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_446">446</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">St. John’s Eve</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_447">447</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Little Song</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_449">449</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Princes’ Chamber</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_450">450</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Wonderland</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_453">453</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In a Gallery</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_455">455</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">In Marble Prayer</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_457">457</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Nocturne</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_459">459</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Come What May</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_460">460</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Nuremberg</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_462">462</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">A Mater Dolorosa</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_464">464</a></td> - </tr><tr> - <td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">After Long Waiting</span>,</td> - <td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_470">470</a></td> - </tr> - </tbody> -</table> - - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> -<h2>EARLIER POEMS</h2> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3><a name="three_ships" id="three_ships"></a>THE THREE SHIPS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the waters clear and dark</span> -<span class="i0">Flew, like a startled bird, our bark.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All the day long with steady sweep</span> -<span class="i0">Seagulls followed us over the deep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weird and strange were the silent shores,</span> -<span class="i0">Rich with their wealth of buried ores;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mighty the forests, old and gray,</span> -<span class="i0">With the secrets locked in their hearts away.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Semblance of castle and arch and shrine</span> -<span class="i0">Towered aloft in the clear sunshine;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And we watched for the warder, stern and grim,</span> -<span class="i0">And the priest with his chanted prayer and hymn.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over that wonderful northern sea,</span> -<span class="i0">As one who sails in a dream, sailed we,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till, when the young moon soared on high,</span> -<span class="i0">Nothing was round us but wave and sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up in the tremulous space it swung,—</span> -<span class="i0">A crescent dim in the azure hung;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While the sun lay low in the glowing west,</span> -<span class="i0">With bars of purple across his breast.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The skies were aflame with the sunset glow,</span> -<span class="i0">The billows were all aflame below;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The far horizon seemed the gate</span> -<span class="i0">To some mystic world’s enchanted state;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all the air was a luminous mist,</span> -<span class="i0">Crimson and amber and amethyst.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then silently into that fiery sea—</span> -<span class="i0">Into the heart of the mystery—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Three ships went sailing, one by one,</span> -<span class="i0">The fairest visions under the sun.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like the flame in the heart of a ruby set</span> -<span class="i0">Were the sails that flew from each mast of jet;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While darkly against the burning sky</span> -<span class="i0">Streamer and pennant floated high.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Steadily, silently, on they pressed</span> -<span class="i0">Into the glowing, reddening west;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Until, on the far horizon’s fold,</span> -<span class="i0">They slowly passed through its gate of gold.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You think, perhaps, they were nothing more</span> -<span class="i0">Than schooners laden with common ore?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where Care clasped hands with grimy Toil,</span> -<span class="i0">And the decks were stained with earthly moil?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, beautiful ships, that sailed that night</span> -<span class="i0">Into the west from our yearning sight,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full well I know that the freight ye bore</span> -<span class="i0">Was laden not for an earthly shore!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To some far realm ye were sailing on,</span> -<span class="i0">Where all we have lost shall yet be won;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye were bearing thither a world of dreams,</span> -<span class="i0">Bright as that sunset’s golden gleams;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And hopes whose tremulous, rosy flush,</span> -<span class="i0">Grew fairer still in the twilight hush.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye were bearing hence to that mystic sphere</span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts no mortal may utter here,—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Songs that on earth may not be sung,—</span> -<span class="i0">Words too holy for human tongue,—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The golden deeds that we would have done,—</span> -<span class="i0">The fadeless wreaths that we would have won!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And hence it was that our souls with you</span> -<span class="i0">Traversed the measureless waste of blue,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till you passed under the sunset gate,</span> -<span class="i0">And to us a voice said, softly, “Wait!”</span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span></p> - -<h3>MAUD AND MADGE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Maud in a crimson velvet chair</span> -<span class="i2">Strings her pearls on a silken thread,</span> -<span class="i0">While, lovingly lifting her golden hair,</span> -<span class="i2">Soft airs wander about her head.</span> -<span class="i0">She has silken robes of the softest flow,</span> -<span class="i2">She has jewels rare and a chain of gold,</span> -<span class="i0">And her two white hands flit to and fro,</span> -<span class="i2">Fair as the dainty toys they hold.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She has tropical birds and rare perfumes;</span> -<span class="i2">Pictures that speak to the heart and eye;</span> -<span class="i0">For her each flower of the Orient blooms,—</span> -<span class="i2">For her the song and the lute swell high;</span> -<span class="i0">But daintily stringing her gleaming pearls</span> -<span class="i2">She dreams to-day in her velvet chair,</span> -<span class="i0">While the sunlight sleeps in her golden curls,</span> -<span class="i2">Lightly stirred by the odorous air.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down on the beach, when the tide goes out,</span> -<span class="i2">Madge is gathering shining shells;</span> -<span class="i0">The sea-breeze blows her locks about;</span> -<span class="i2">O’er bare, brown feet the white sand swells.</span> -<span class="i0">Coarsest serge is her gown of gray,</span> -<span class="i2">Faded and torn her apron blue,</span> -<span class="i0">And there in the beautiful, dying day</span> -<span class="i2">The girl still thinks of the work to do.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stains of labor are on her hands,</span> -<span class="i2">Lost is the young form’s airy grace;</span> -<span class="i0">And standing there on the shining sands</span> -<span class="i2">You read her fate in her weary face.</span> -<span class="i0">Up with the dawn to toil all day</span> -<span class="i2">For meagre fare and a place to sleep;</span> -<span class="i0">Seldom a moment to dream or play,</span> -<span class="i2">Little leisure to laugh or weep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beautiful Maud, you think, maybe,</span> -<span class="i2">Lying back in your velvet chair,</span> -<span class="i0">There is naught in common with her and thee,—</span> -<span class="i2">You scarce could breathe in the self-same air.</span> -<span class="i0">But the warm blood in her girlish heart</span> -<span class="i2">Leaps quick as yours at her nature’s call,</span> -<span class="i0">And ye, though moving so far apart,</span> -<span class="i2">Must share one destiny after all.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love shall come to you both one day,</span> -<span class="i2">For still must be what aye hath been;</span> -<span class="i0">And under satin or russet gray</span> -<span class="i2">Hearts will open to let him in.</span> -<span class="i0">Motherhood with its joy and woe</span> -<span class="i2">Each must compass through burning pain,—</span> -<span class="i0">You, fair Maud, with your brow of snow,</span> -<span class="i2">Madge with her brown hands labor-stained.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each shall sorrow and each shall weep,</span> -<span class="i2">Though one is in hovel, one in hall;</span> -<span class="i0">Over your gold the frost shall creep,</span> -<span class="i2">As over her jet the snows will fall.</span> -<span class="i0">Exquisite Maud, you lift your eyes</span> -<span class="i2">At Madge out yonder under the sun;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet know ye both by the countless ties</span> -<span class="i2">Of a common womanhood ye are one!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A MOTHER’S QUESTION</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What mother-angel tended thee last night,</span> -<span class="i8">Sweet baby mine?</span> -<span class="i0">Cradled upon what breast all soft and white</span> -<span class="i8">Didst thou recline?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who took thee, frail and tender as thou art,</span> -<span class="i8">Within her arms?</span> -<span class="i0">And shielded thee, close claspéd to her heart,</span> -<span class="i8">From all alarms?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Surely that God who lured thee from the breast</span> -<span class="i8">That hoped to be</span> -<span class="i0">The softest pillow and the sweetest rest</span> -<span class="i8">Thenceforth to thee,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sent thee not forth into the dread unknown</span> -<span class="i8">Without a guide,</span> -<span class="i0">To grope in darkness, treading all alone</span> -<span class="i8">The path untried.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Compassionate is He who called thee, child;</span> -<span class="i8">And well I know</span> -<span class="i0">He sent some Blessed One of aspect mild</span> -<span class="i8">With thee to go</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the dark valley, where the shadows dim</span> -<span class="i8">Forever brood,</span> -<span class="i0">That the low music of an angel’s hymn</span> -<span class="i8">Might cheer the solitude!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>OVER THE WALL</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know a spot where the wild vines creep,</span> -<span class="i2">And the coral moss-cups grow,</span> -<span class="i0">And where, at the foot of the rocky steep,</span> -<span class="i2">The sweet blue violets blow.</span> -<span class="i0">There all day long, in the summer-time,</span> -<span class="i0">You may hear the river’s dreamy rhyme;</span> -<span class="i0">There all day long does the honey-bee</span> -<span class="i0">Murmur and hum in the hollow tree.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there the feathery hemlock makes</span> -<span class="i2">A shadow cool and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">While from its emerald wing it shakes</span> -<span class="i2">Rare incense at your feet.</span> -<span class="i0">There do the silvery lichens cling,</span> -<span class="i0">There does the tremulous harebell swing;</span> -<span class="i0">And many a scarlet berry shines</span> -<span class="i0">Deep in the green of the tangled vines.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the wall at dawn of day,</span> -<span class="i2">Over the wall at noon,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the wall when the shadows say</span> -<span class="i2">That night is coming soon,</span> -<span class="i0">A little maiden with laughing eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Climbs in her eager haste, and hies</span> -<span class="i0">Down to the spot where the wild vines creep,</span> -<span class="i0">And violets bloom by the rocky steep.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All wild things love her. The murmuring bee</span> -<span class="i2">Scarce stirs when she draws near,</span> -<span class="i0">And sings the bird in the hemlock-tree</span> -<span class="i2">Its sweetest for her ear.</span> -<span class="i0">The harebells nod as she passes by,</span> -<span class="i0">The violet lifts its tender eye,</span> -<span class="i0">The low ferns bend her steps to greet,</span> -<span class="i0">And the mosses creep to her dancing feet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up in her pathway seems to spring</span> -<span class="i2">All that is sweet or rare,—</span> -<span class="i0">Chrysalis quaint, or the moth’s bright wing,</span> -<span class="i2">Or flower-buds strangely fair.</span> -<span class="i0">She watches the tiniest bird’s-nest hid</span> -<span class="i0">The thickly clustering leaves amid;</span> -<span class="i0">And the small brown tree-toad on her arm</span> -<span class="i0">Quietly hops, and fears no harm.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, child of the laughing eyes, and heart</span> -<span class="i2">Attuned to Nature’s voice!</span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast found a bliss that will ne’er depart</span> -<span class="i2">While earth can say, “Rejoice!”</span> -<span class="i0">The years must come, and the years must go;</span> -<span class="i0">But the flowers will bloom, and the breezes blow,</span> -<span class="i0">And bird and butterfly, moth and bee,</span> -<span class="i0">Bring on their swift wings joy to thee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>OUTGROWN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, you wrong her, my friend, she’s not fickle; her love she has simply outgrown;</span> -<span class="i0">One can read the whole matter, translating her heart by the light of one’s own.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Can you bear me to talk with you frankly? There is much that my heart would say,</span> -<span class="i0">And you know we were children together, have quarreled and “made up” in play.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so, for the sake of old friendship, I venture to tell you the truth,</span> -<span class="i0">As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Five summers ago, when you wooed her, you stood on the self-same plane,</span> -<span class="i0">Face to face, heart to heart, never dreaming your souls could be parted again.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She loved you at that time entirely, in the bloom of her life’s early May,</span> -<span class="i0">And it is not her fault, I repeat it, that she does not love you to-day.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nature never stands still, nor souls either. They ever go up or go down;</span> -<span class="i0">And hers has been steadily soaring,—but how has it been with your own?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She has struggled, and yearned, and aspired,—grown stronger and wiser each year;</span> -<span class="i0">The stars are not farther above you, in yon luminous atmosphere!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For she whom you crowned with fresh roses, down yonder, five summers ago,</span> -<span class="i0">Has learned that the first of our duties to God and ourselves is to grow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her eyes they are sweeter and calmer, but their vision is clearer as well;</span> -<span class="i0">Her voice has a tenderer cadence, but it rings like a silver bell.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her face has the look worn by those who with God and his angels have talked;</span> -<span class="i0">The white robes she wears are less white than the spirits with whom she has walked.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And you? Have you aimed at the highest? Have you, too, aspired and prayed?</span> -<span class="i0">Have you looked upon evil unsullied? have you conquered it undismayed?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have you, too, grown stronger and wiser, as the months and the years have rolled on?</span> -<span class="i0">Did you meet her this morning rejoicing in the triumph of victory won?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, hear me! The truth cannot harm you. When to-day in her presence you stood,</span> -<span class="i0">Was the hand that you gave her as white and clean as that of her womanhood?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Go measure yourself by her standard. Look back on the years that have fled;</span> -<span class="i0">Then ask, if you need, why she tells you that the love of her girlhood is dead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She cannot look down to her lover; her love, like her soul, aspires;</span> -<span class="i0">He must stand by her side, or above her, who would kindle its holy fires.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, farewell! For the sake of old friendship I have ventured to tell you the truth,</span> -<span class="i0">As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly, as I might in our earlier youth.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A SONG FOR TWO</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not for its sunsets burning clear and low,</span> -<span class="i2">Its purple splendors on the eastern hills,</span> -<span class="i0">Bless I the Year that now makes haste to go</span> -<span class="i2">While sad Earth listens for its dying thrills.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not that its days were sweet with sun and showers;</span> -<span class="i2">Its summer nights all luminous with stars:</span> -<span class="i0">Not that its vales were studded thick with flowers;</span> -<span class="i2">Not that its mountains pierced the azure bars;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not that from our dear land, by slow degrees,</span> -<span class="i2">Some mists of error it hath blown away;</span> -<span class="i0">Not for its noble deeds—ah! not for these—</span> -<span class="i2">Fain would I twine this wreath of song to-day.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But for one gift that it has brought to me</span> -<span class="i2">My grateful heart would crown the dying Year:</span> -<span class="i0">Because, O best-beloved, it gave me thee,</span> -<span class="i2">I drop this garland on the passing bier!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A PICTURE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A lovely bit of dappled green</span> -<span class="i0">Shut in the circling hills between,</span> -<span class="i0">While farther off blue mountains stand</span> -<span class="i0">Like giant guards on either hand.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The quiet road in still repose</span> -<span class="i0">Follows where’er the river flows;</span> -<span class="i0">And in and out it glides along,</span> -<span class="i0">Enchanted by the rippling song.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Afar, I see the steepled town</span> -<span class="i0">From yonder hillside looking down;</span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes, when the south wind swells,</span> -<span class="i0">Hear the faint chiming of its bells.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But under these embowering trees,</span> -<span class="i0">Lulled by the hum of droning bees,</span> -<span class="i0">The old brown farmhouse seems to sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">So calm its rest is and so deep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yonder, beside the rustic bridge,</span> -<span class="i0">From which the path climbs yonder ridge,</span> -<span class="i0">The lazy cattle seek the shade</span> -<span class="i0">By the umbrageous willows made.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sky is like a hollow pearl,</span> -<span class="i0">Save where warm sunset clouds unfurl</span> -<span class="i0">Their flaming colors. Lo! a star,</span> -<span class="i0">Even as I gaze, gleams forth afar!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>HYMN TO LIFE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, Life, dear Life, how beautiful art thou!</span> -<span class="i2">All day sweet, chiming voices in my heart</span> -<span class="i0">Have hymned thy praises joyfully as now,</span> -<span class="i8">Telling how fair thou art!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This morn, while yet the dew was on the flowers,</span> -<span class="i2">They sang like skylarks, soaring while they sing;</span> -<span class="i0">This noon, like birds within their leafy bowers,</span> -<span class="i12">Warbled with folded wing.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slow fades the twilight from the glowing west,</span> -<span class="i2">And one pale star hangs o’er yon mountain’s brow;</span> -<span class="i0">With deeper joy, that may not be repressed,</span> -<span class="i12">O Life, they hail thee now!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And not alone from this poor heart of mine</span> -<span class="i2">Do these glad notes of grateful love ascend;</span> -<span class="i0">Voices from mount and vale and woodland shrine</span> -<span class="i12">In the full chorus blend.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The young leaves feel thy presence and rejoice</span> -<span class="i2">The while they frolic with the happy breeze;</span> -<span class="i0">And pæans sweeter than a seraph’s voice</span> -<span class="i8">Rise from the swaying trees.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each flower that hides within the forest dim,</span> -<span class="i2">Where mortal eye may ne’er its beauty see,</span> -<span class="i0">Waves its light censer, while it breathes a hymn</span> -<span class="i12">In humble praise of thee.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through quivering pines the gentle south winds stray,</span> -<span class="i2">Singing low songs that bid the tear-drops start;</span> -<span class="i0">And thoughts of thee are in each trembling lay,</span> -<span class="i8">Thrilling the listener’s heart.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Old Ocean lifts his solemn voice on high,</span> -<span class="i2">Thy name, O Life, repeating evermore,</span> -<span class="i0">While sweeping gales and rushing storms reply</span> -<span class="i10">From many a far-off shore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stars are gathering in the darkening skies,</span> -<span class="i2">But our dull ears their music may not hear,</span> -<span class="i0">Though, while we list, their swelling anthems rise</span> -<span class="i12">Exultingly and clear!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Earth is beautiful! She weareth still</span> -<span class="i2">The golden radiance of life’s early day;</span> -<span class="i0">Still Love and Hope for me their chalice fill,—</span> -<span class="i12">Life, turn not thou away!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE CHIMNEY SWALLOW</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One night as I sat by my table,</span> -<span class="i2">Tired of books and pen,</span> -<span class="i0">With wandering thoughts far straying</span> -<span class="i2">Out into the world of men;—</span> -<span class="i0">That world where the busy workers</span> -<span class="i2">Such magical deeds are doing,</span> -<span class="i0">Each one with a steady purpose</span> -<span class="i2">His own pet plans pursuing;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the house was wrapt in silence,</span> -<span class="i2">And the children were all asleep,</span> -<span class="i0">And even the mouse in the wainscot</span> -<span class="i2">Had ceased to run and leap,</span> -<span class="i0">All at once from the open chimney</span> -<span class="i2">Came a hum and a rustle and whirring,</span> -<span class="i0">That startled me out of my dreaming,</span> -<span class="i2">And set my pulses stirring.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What was it? I paused and listened;</span> -<span class="i2">The roses were all in bloom,</span> -<span class="i0">And in from the garden floated</span> -<span class="i2">The violet’s rich perfume.</span> -<span class="i0">So it could not be Kriss Kringle,</span> -<span class="i2">For he only comes, you know,</span> -<span class="i0">When the Christmas bells are chiming,</span> -<span class="i2">And the hills are white with snow.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark! a sound as of rushing waters,</span> -<span class="i2">Or the rustle of falling leaves,</span> -<span class="i0">Or the patter of eager raindrops</span> -<span class="i2">Yonder among the eaves!</span> -<span class="i0">Then out from the dark, old chimney,</span> -<span class="i2">Blackened with soot and smoke,</span> -<span class="i0">With a whir of fluttering pinions</span> -<span class="i2">A startled birdling broke.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dashing against the window;</span> -<span class="i2">Lighting a moment where</span> -<span class="i0">My sculptured angel folded</span> -<span class="i2">Its soft white wings in prayer;</span> -<span class="i0">Swinging upon the curtains;</span> -<span class="i2">Perched on the ivy-vine;</span> -<span class="i0">At last it rested trembling</span> -<span class="i2">In tender hands of mine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No stain upon its plumage;</span> -<span class="i2">No dust upon its wings;</span> -<span class="i0">No hint of its companionship</span> -<span class="i2">With darkly soiling things!</span> -<span class="i0">O, happy bird, thou spirit!</span> -<span class="i2">Stretch thy glad plumes and soar</span> -<span class="i0">Where breath of soil or sorrow</span> -<span class="i2">Shall reach thee nevermore!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>HEIRSHIP</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little store of wealth have I;</span> -<span class="i2">Not a rood of land I own;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor a mansion fair and high</span> -<span class="i2">Built with towers of fretted stone.</span> -<span class="i0">Stocks, nor bonds, nor title-deeds,</span> -<span class="i2">Flocks nor herds have I to show;</span> -<span class="i0">When I ride, no Arab steeds</span> -<span class="i2">Toss for me their manes of snow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have neither pearls nor gold,</span> -<span class="i2">Massive plate, nor jewels rare;</span> -<span class="i0">Broidered silks of worth untold,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor rich robes a queen might wear.</span> -<span class="i0">In my garden’s narrow bound</span> -<span class="i2">Flaunt no costly tropic blooms,</span> -<span class="i0">Ladening all the air around</span> -<span class="i2">With a weight of rare perfumes.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet to an immense estate</span> -<span class="i2">Am I heir, by grace of God,—</span> -<span class="i0">Richer, grander than doth wait</span> -<span class="i2">Any earthly monarch’s nod.</span> -<span class="i0">Heir of all the Ages, I—</span> -<span class="i2">Heir of all that they have wrought,</span> -<span class="i0">All their store of emprise high,</span> -<span class="i2">All their wealth of precious thought.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Every golden deed of theirs</span> -<span class="i2">Sheds its lustre on my way;</span> -<span class="i0">All their labors, all their prayers,</span> -<span class="i2">Sanctify this present day!</span> -<span class="i0">Heir of all that they have earned</span> -<span class="i2">By their passion and their tears,—</span> -<span class="i0">Heir of all that they have learned</span> -<span class="i2">Through the weary, toiling years!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heir of all the faith sublime</span> -<span class="i2">On whose wings they soared to heaven;</span> -<span class="i0">Heir of every hope that Time</span> -<span class="i2">To Earth’s fainting sons hath given!</span> -<span class="i0">Aspirations pure and high—</span> -<span class="i2">Strength to dare and to endure—</span> -<span class="i0">Heir of all the Ages, I—</span> -<span class="i2">Lo! I am no longer poor!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>HILDA, SPINNING</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Spinning, spinning, by the sea,</span> -<span class="i6">All the night!</span> -<span class="i0">On a stormy, rock-ribbed shore,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the north winds downward pour,</span> -<span class="i0">And the tempests fiercely sweep</span> -<span class="i0">From the mountains to the deep,</span> -<span class="i0">Hilda spins beside the sea,</span> -<span class="i6">All the night!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Spinning, at her lonely window,</span> -<span class="i6">By the sea!</span> -<span class="i0">With her candle burning clear,</span> -<span class="i0">Every night of all the year,</span> -<span class="i0">And her sweet voice crooning low,</span> -<span class="i0">Quaint old songs of love and woe,</span> -<span class="i0">Spins she at her lonely window,</span> -<span class="i6">By the sea.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On a bitter night in March,</span> -<span class="i6">Long ago,</span> -<span class="i0">Hilda, very young and fair,</span> -<span class="i0">With a crown of golden hair,</span> -<span class="i0">Watched the tempest raging wild,</span> -<span class="i0">Watched the roaring sea—and smiled</span> -<span class="i0">Through that woeful night in March,</span> -<span class="i6">Long ago!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What though all the winds were out</span> -<span class="i6">In their might?</span> -<span class="i0">Richard’s boat was tried and true;</span> -<span class="i0">Stanch and brave his hardy crew;</span> -<span class="i0">Strongest he to do or dare.</span> -<span class="i0">Said she, breathing forth a prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">“He is safe, though winds are out</span> -<span class="i6">In their might!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But at length the morning dawned,</span> -<span class="i6">Still and clear!</span> -<span class="i0">Calm, in azure splendor, lay</span> -<span class="i0">All the waters of the bay;</span> -<span class="i0">And the ocean’s angry moans</span> -<span class="i0">Sank to solemn undertones,</span> -<span class="i0">As at last the morning dawned,</span> -<span class="i6">Still and clear!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With her waves of golden hair</span> -<span class="i6">Floating free,</span> -<span class="i0">Hilda ran along the shore,</span> -<span class="i0">Gazing off the waters o’er;</span> -<span class="i0">And the fishermen replied,</span> -<span class="i0">“He will come in with the tide,”</span> -<span class="i0">As they saw her golden hair</span> -<span class="i6">Floating free!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! he came in with the tide—</span> -<span class="i6">Came alone!</span> -<span class="i0">Tossed upon the shining sands—</span> -<span class="i0">Ghastly face and clutching hands—</span> -<span class="i0">Seaweed tangled in his hair—</span> -<span class="i0">Bruised and torn his forehead fair—</span> -<span class="i0">Thus he came in with the tide,</span> -<span class="i6">All alone!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hilda watched beside her dead,</span> -<span class="i6">Day and night.</span> -<span class="i0">Of those hours of mortal woe</span> -<span class="i0">Human ken may never know;</span> -<span class="i0">She was silent, and his ear</span> -<span class="i0">Kept the secret, close and dear,</span> -<span class="i0">Of her watch beside her dead,</span> -<span class="i6">Day and night!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What she promised in the darkness,</span> -<span class="i6">Who can tell?</span> -<span class="i0">But upon that rock-ribbed shore</span> -<span class="i0">Burns a beacon evermore!</span> -<span class="i0">And beside it, all the night,</span> -<span class="i0">Hilda guards the lonely light,</span> -<span class="i0">Though what vowed she in the darkness,</span> -<span class="i6">None may tell!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Spinning, spinning by the sea,</span> -<span class="i6">All the night!</span> -<span class="i0">While her candle, gleaming wide</span> -<span class="i0">O’er the restless, rolling tide,</span> -<span class="i0">Guides with steady, changeless ray</span> -<span class="i0">The lone fisher up the bay,</span> -<span class="i0">Hilda spins beside the sea,</span> -<span class="i6">Through the night!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fifty years of patient spinning</span> -<span class="i6">By the sea!</span> -<span class="i0">Old and worn, she sleeps to-day,</span> -<span class="i0">While the sunshine gilds the bay;</span> -<span class="i0">But her candle, shining clear,</span> -<span class="i0">Every night of all the year,</span> -<span class="i0">Still is telling of her spinning</span> -<span class="i6">By the sea!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>HEREAFTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O land beyond the setting sun!</span> -<span class="i2">O realm more fair than poet’s dream!</span> -<span class="i0">How clear thy silver rivers run,</span> -<span class="i2">How bright thy golden glories gleam!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth holds no counterpart of thine;</span> -<span class="i2">The dark-browed Orient, jewel-crowned,</span> -<span class="i0">Pales as she bows before thy shrine,</span> -<span class="i2">Shrouded in mystery profound.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dazzling North, the stately West,</span> -<span class="i2">Whose waters flow from mount to sea;</span> -<span class="i0">The South, flower-wreathed in languid rest—</span> -<span class="i2">What are they all, compared with thee?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All lands, all realms beneath yon dome,</span> -<span class="i2">Where God’s own hand hath hung the stars,</span> -<span class="i0">To thee with humblest homage come,</span> -<span class="i2">O world beyond the crystal bars!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou blest Hereafter! Mortal tongue</span> -<span class="i2">Hath striven in vain thy speech to learn,</span> -<span class="i0">And Fancy wanders, lost among</span> -<span class="i2">The flowery paths for which we yearn.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But well we know that fair and bright,</span> -<span class="i2">Far beyond human ken or dream,</span> -<span class="i0">Too glorious for our feeble sight,</span> -<span class="i2">Thy skies of cloudless azure beam.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We know thy happy valleys lie</span> -<span class="i2">In green repose, supremely blest;</span> -<span class="i0">We know against thy sapphire sky</span> -<span class="i2">Thy mountain-peaks sublimely rest.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For sometimes even now we catch</span> -<span class="i2">Faint gleamings from thy far-off shore,</span> -<span class="i0">While still with eager eyes we watch</span> -<span class="i2">For one sweet sign or token more.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The loved, the deeply loved, are there!</span> -<span class="i2">The brave, the fair, the good, the wise,</span> -<span class="i0">Who pined for thy serener air,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor shunned thy solemn mysteries.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are the hopes that, one by one,</span> -<span class="i2">Died even as we gave them birth;</span> -<span class="i0">The dreams that passed ere well begun,</span> -<span class="i2">Too dear, too beautiful for earth.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The aspirations, strong of wing,</span> -<span class="i2">Aiming at heights we could not reach;</span> -<span class="i0">The songs we tried in vain to sing;</span> -<span class="i2">The thoughts too vast for human speech;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hast them all, Hereafter! Thou</span> -<span class="i2">Shalt keep them safely till that hour</span> -<span class="i0">When, with God’s seal on heart and brow,</span> -<span class="i2">We claim them in immortal power!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WITHOUT AND WITHIN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Softly the gold has faded from the sky,</span> -<span class="i2">Slowly the stars have gathered one by one,</span> -<span class="i0">Calmly the crescent moon mounts up on high,</span> -<span class="i2">And the long day is done.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With quiet heart my garden-walks I tread,</span> -<span class="i2">Feeling the beauty that I cannot see;</span> -<span class="i0">Beauty and fragrance all around me shed</span> -<span class="i2">By flower, and shrub, and tree.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Often I linger where the roses pour</span> -<span class="i2">Exquisite odors from each glowing cup;</span> -<span class="i0">Or where the violet, brimmed with sweetness o’er,</span> -<span class="i2">Lifts its small chalice up.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With fragrant breath the lilies woo me now,</span> -<span class="i2">And softly speaks the sweet-voiced mignonette,</span> -<span class="i0">While heliotropes, with meekly lifted brow,</span> -<span class="i2">Say to me, “Go not yet.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So for awhile I linger, but not long.</span> -<span class="i2">High in the heavens rideth fiery Mars,</span> -<span class="i0">Careering proudly ’mid the glorious throng,</span> -<span class="i2">Brightest of all the stars.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But softly gleaming through the curtain’s fold,</span> -<span class="i2">The home-star beams with more alluring ray,</span> -<span class="i0">And, as a star led sage and seer of old,</span> -<span class="i2">So it directs my way;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And leads me in where my young children lie,</span> -<span class="i2">Rosy and beautiful in tranquil rest;</span> -<span class="i0">The seal of sleep is on each fast-shut eye,</span> -<span class="i2">Heaven’s peace within each breast.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I bring them gifts. Not frankincense nor myrrh—</span> -<span class="i2">Gifts the adoring Magi humbly brought</span> -<span class="i0">The young child, cradled in the arms of her</span> -<span class="i2">Blest beyond mortal thought;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But love—the love that fills my mother-heart</span> -<span class="i2">With a sweet rapture oft akin to pain;</span> -<span class="i0">Such yearning love as bids the tear-drops start</span> -<span class="i2">And fall like summer rain.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And faith—that dares, for their dear sakes, to climb</span> -<span class="i2">Boldly, where once it would have feared to go,</span> -<span class="i0">And calmly standing upon heights sublime,</span> -<span class="i2">Fears not the storm below.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And prayer! O God! unto thy throne I come,</span> -<span class="i2">Bringing my darlings—but I cannot speak.</span> -<span class="i0">With love and awe oppressed, my lips are dumb:</span> -<span class="i2">Grant what my heart would seek!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>VASHTI’S SCROLL</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dethroned and crownless, I so late a queen!</span> -<span class="i0">Forsaken, poor and lonely, I who wore</span> -<span class="i0">The crown of Persia with such stately grace!</span> -<span class="i0">But yesterday a royal wife; but now</span> -<span class="i0">From my estate cast down, and fallen so low</span> -<span class="i0">That beggars scoff at me! Men toss my name</span> -<span class="i0">Backward and forward on their mocking tongues.</span> -<span class="i0">In all the king’s broad realm there is not one</span> -<span class="i0">To do poor Vashti homage. Even the dog</span> -<span class="i0">My hand had fondled, in the palace walls</span> -<span class="i0">Fawns on my rival. When I left the court,</span> -<span class="i0">Weeping and sore distressed, he followed me,</span> -<span class="i0">Licking my fingers, leaping in my face,</span> -<span class="i0">And frisking round me till I reached the gates.</span> -<span class="i0">Then with long pauses, as of one perplexed,</span> -<span class="i0">And frequent lookings backward, and low whines</span> -<span class="i0">Of puzzled wonder—that had made me smile</span> -<span class="i0">If I had been less lorn—with drooping ears,</span> -<span class="i0">Dropt eyes, and downcast forehead he went back,</span> -<span class="i0">Leaving me desolate. So went they all</span> -<span class="i0">Who, when Ahasuerus on my brow</span> -<span class="i0">Set his own royal crown and called me queen,</span> -<span class="i0">Made the air ring with plaudits! Loud they cried,</span> -<span class="i0">“Long live Queen Vashti, Persia’s fairest Rose,</span> -<span class="i0">Mother of Princes, and the nation’s Hope!”</span> -<span class="i0">The rose is withered now; the queen’s no more.</span> -<span class="i0">To these lorn breasts no princely boy shall cling</span> -<span class="i0">Or now, or ever. Yet on this poor scroll</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -<span class="i0">I will rehearse the story of my woes,</span> -<span class="i0">And bid them lay it in the grave with me</span> -<span class="i0">When I depart to join the unnumbered dead.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, thou unknown, unborn, who through the gloom</span> -<span class="i0">And mists of ages in my vaulted tomb</span> -<span class="i0">Shalt find this parchment, and with reverent care</span> -<span class="i0">Shalt bear it outward to the sun and air:</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, thou whose patient fingers shall unroll</span> -<span class="i0">With slow, persuasive touch this little scroll:</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, loving, tender eyes that, like twin stars,</span> -<span class="i0">I seem to see through yonder cloudy bars:</span> -<span class="i0">Read Vashti’s story, and I pray ye tell</span> -<span class="i0">The whole wide world if she did ill or well!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ahasuerus reigned. On Persia’s throne,</span> -<span class="i0">Lord of a mighty realm, he sat alone,</span> -<span class="i0">And stretched his sceptre from the farthest slope</span> -<span class="i0">Of India’s hills, to where the Ethiop</span> -<span class="i0">Dwelt in barbaric splendor. Kinglier king</span> -<span class="i0">Never did poet praise or minstrel sing!</span> -<span class="i0">He had no peers. Among his lords he shone</span> -<span class="i0">As shines a planet, single and alone;</span> -<span class="i0">And I, alas! I loved him, and we two</span> -<span class="i0">Such bliss as peasant lovers joy in, knew!</span> -<span class="i0">No lowly home in all our wide domain</span> -<span class="i0">Held more of peace than ours, or less of pain.</span> -<span class="i0">But one dark day—O, woeful day of days,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose hours I number now in sad amaze,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou hadst no prophet of the ills to be,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor sign nor omen came to succor me!—</span> -<span class="i0">That day Ahasuerus smiled and said,</span> -<span class="i0">“Since first I wore this crown upon my head</span> -<span class="i0">Thrice have the emerald clusters of the vine</span> -<span class="i0">Changed to translucent globes of ruby wine;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -<span class="i0">And thrice the peaches on the loaded walls</span> -<span class="i0">Have slowly rounded into wondrous balls</span> -<span class="i0">Of gold and crimson. I will make a feast.</span> -<span class="i0">Princes and lords, the greatest and the least,</span> -<span class="i0">All Persia and all Media, shall see</span> -<span class="i0">The pomp and splendor that encompass me.</span> -<span class="i0">The riches of my kingdom shall be shown,</span> -<span class="i0">And all my glorious majesty made known</span> -<span class="i0">Where’er the shadow of my sceptred hand</span> -<span class="i0">Sways a great people with its mute command!”</span> -<span class="i0">Then came from far and near a hurrying throng</span> -<span class="i0">Of skilled and cunning workmen. All day long</span> -<span class="i0">And far into the startled night, they wrought</span> -<span class="i0">Most quaint and beautiful devices—still</span> -<span class="i0">Responsive to their master’s eager will,</span> -<span class="i0">And giving form to his creative thought—</span> -<span class="i0">Till Shushan grew a marvel!</span> -<span class="i22">Never yet</span> -<span class="i0">Yon rolling sun on fairer scene has set:</span> -<span class="i0">The palace windows were ablaze with light;</span> -<span class="i0">And Persia’s lords were there, most richly dight</span> -<span class="i0">In broidered silks, or costliest cloth of gold,</span> -<span class="i0">That kept the sunshine in each lustrous fold,</span> -<span class="i0">Or softly flowing tissues, pure and white</span> -<span class="i0">As fleecy clouds at noonday. Clear and bright</span> -<span class="i0">Shone the pure gold of Ophir, and the gleam</span> -<span class="i0">Of burning gems, that mocked the pallid beam</span> -<span class="i0">Of the dim, wondering stars, made radiance there,</span> -<span class="i0">Splendor undreamed of, and beyond compare!</span> -<span class="i0">Up from the gardens floated the perfume</span> -<span class="i0">Of rose and myrtle, in their perfect bloom;</span> -<span class="i0">The red pomegranate cleft its heart in twain,</span> -<span class="i0">Pouring its life blood in a crimson rain;</span> -<span class="i0">The slight acacia waved its yellow plumes,</span> -<span class="i0">And afar off amid the starlit glooms</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Were sweet recesses, where the orange bowers</span> -<span class="i0">Dropt their pure blossoms down in snowy showers,</span> -<span class="i0">And night reigned undisturbed.</span> -<span class="i20">From cups of gold</span> -<span class="i0">Diverse one from another, meet to hold</span> -<span class="i0">The king’s most costly wines, or to be raised</span> -<span class="i0">To princely lips, the gay guests drank, and praised</span> -<span class="i0">Their rich abundance. Rapturous music swept</span> -<span class="i0">Through the vast arches and the secret kept</span> -<span class="i0">Of its own joy; while in slow, rhythmic time</span> -<span class="i0">To clash of cymbal and the lute’s clear chime,</span> -<span class="i0">The dancing-girls stole through the fragrant night</span> -<span class="i0">With wreathéd arms, flushed cheeks and eyes alight,</span> -<span class="i0">And softly rounded forms that rose and fell</span> -<span class="i0">To the voluptuous music’s dreamy swell,</span> -<span class="i0">As if the air were pulsing waves that bore</span> -<span class="i0">Them up and onward to some longed-for shore!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wild waxed the revel. On an ivory throne</span> -<span class="i0">Inlaid with ebony and gems that shone</span> -<span class="i0">With a surpassing lustre, sat my lord,</span> -<span class="i0">The King Ahasuerus. His great sword,</span> -<span class="i0">Blazing with diamonds on hilt and blade,—</span> -<span class="i0">The mighty sword that made his foes afraid,—</span> -<span class="i0">And the proud sceptre he was wont to grasp,</span> -<span class="i0">With all the monarch in his kingly clasp,</span> -<span class="i0">Against the crouching lions (guard that kept</span> -<span class="i0">On either side the throne and never slept),</span> -<span class="i0">Leaned carelessly. And flowing downward o’er</span> -<span class="i0">The ivory steps even to the marble floor,</span> -<span class="i0">Swept the rich royal robes in many a fold</span> -<span class="i0">Of Tyrian purple flecked with yellow gold.</span> -<span class="i0">The jewelled crown his young head scorned to wear,</span> -<span class="i0">More fitly crowned by its own clustering hair,</span> -<span class="i0">Lay on a pearl-wrought cushion by his side,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Mute symbol of great Persia’s power and pride;</span> -<span class="i0">While on his brow some courtier’s hand had placed</span> -<span class="i0">The fairest chaplet monarch ever graced,</span> -<span class="i0">A wreath of dewy roses, fresh and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">Just brought from out the garden’s cool retreat.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Louder and louder grew the sounds of mirth;</span> -<span class="i0">Faster and faster flowed the red wine forth;</span> -<span class="i0">In high, exulting strains the minstrels sang</span> -<span class="i0">The monarch’s glory, till the great roof rang;</span> -<span class="i0">And flushed at length with pride and song and wine,</span> -<span class="i0">The king rose up and said, “O nobles mine!</span> -<span class="i0">Princes of Persia, Media’s hope and pride,</span> -<span class="i0">Stars of my kingdom, will ye aught beside?</span> -<span class="i0">Speak! and I swear your sovereign’s will shall be</span> -<span class="i0">On this fair night to please and honor ye!”</span> -<span class="i0">Then rose a shout from out the glittering throng</span> -<span class="i0">Drowning the voice of merriment and song,</span> -<span class="i0">Humming and murmuring like a hive of bees—</span> -<span class="i0">What would they more each charmèd sense to please?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out spoke at last a tongue that should have been</span> -<span class="i0">Palsied in foul dishonor there and then.</span> -<span class="i0">“O great Ahasuerus! ne’er before</span> -<span class="i0">Reigned such a king so blest a people o’er!</span> -<span class="i0">What shall we ask? What great and wondrous boon</span> -<span class="i0">To crown the hours that fly away too soon?</span> -<span class="i0">There is but one. ’Tis said that mortal eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Never yet gazed, in rapturous surprise,</span> -<span class="i0">Upon a face like that of her who wears</span> -<span class="i0">Thy signet-ring, and all thy glory shares,—</span> -<span class="i0">Thy fair Queen Vashti, she who yet shall be</span> -<span class="i0">Mother of him who reigneth after thee!</span> -<span class="i0">Show us that face, O king! For nought beside</span> -<span class="i0">Can make our cup of joy o’erflow with pride.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A murmur ran throughout the startled crowd,</span> -<span class="i0">Swelling at last to plaudits long and loud.</span> -<span class="i0">Maddened with wine, they knew not what they said.</span> -<span class="i0">Ahasuerus bent his haughty head,</span> -<span class="i0">And for an instant o’er his face there swept</span> -<span class="i0">A look his courtiers in their memory kept</span> -<span class="i0">For many a day—a look of doubt and pain,</span> -<span class="i0">They scarcely caught ere it had passed again.</span> -<span class="i0">“My word is pledged,” he said. Then to the seven</span> -<span class="i0">Lord chamberlains to whom the keys were given:</span> -<span class="i0">“Haste ye, and to this noble presence bring</span> -<span class="i0">Vashti, the Queen, with royal crown and ring;</span> -<span class="i0">That all my lords may see the matchless charms</span> -<span class="i0">Kind Heaven has sent to bless my kingly arms.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They did their errand, those old, gray-haired men,</span> -<span class="i0">Who should have braved the lion in his den,</span> -<span class="i0">Or ere they bore such message to their queen,</span> -<span class="i0">Or took such words their aged lips between.</span> -<span class="i0">What! I, the daughter of a royal race,</span> -<span class="i0">Step down, unblushing, from my lofty place,</span> -<span class="i0">And, like a common dancing-girl, who wears</span> -<span class="i0">Her beauty unconcealed, and, shameless, bares</span> -<span class="i0">Her brow to every gazer, boldly go</span> -<span class="i0">To those wild revellers my face to show?</span> -<span class="i0">I—who had kept my beauty pure and bright</span> -<span class="i0">Only because ’twas precious in his sight,</span> -<span class="i0">Guarding it ever as a holy thing,</span> -<span class="i0">Sacred to him, my lover, lord, and king,—</span> -<span class="i0">Could I unveil it to the curious eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Of the mad rabble that with drunken cries</span> -<span class="i0">Were shouting “Vashti! Vashti?”—Sooner far,</span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the rays of sun, or moon, or star,</span> -<span class="i0">I would have buried it in endless night!</span> -<span class="i0">Pale and dismayed, in wonder and affright,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -<span class="i0">My maidens hung around me as I told</span> -<span class="i0">Those seven lord chamberlains, so gray and old,</span> -<span class="i0">To bear this answer back: “It may not be.</span> -<span class="i0">My lord, my king, I cannot come to thee.</span> -<span class="i0">It is not meet that Persia’s queen, like one</span> -<span class="i0">Who treads the market-place from sun to sun,</span> -<span class="i0">Should bare her beauty to the hungry crowd,</span> -<span class="i0">Who name her name in accents hoarse and loud.”</span> -<span class="i0">With stern, cold looks they left me. Ah! I knew</span> -<span class="i0">If my dear lord to his best self were true,</span> -<span class="i0">That he would hold me guiltless, and would say,</span> -<span class="i0">“I thank thee, love, that thou didst not obey!”</span> -<span class="i0">But the red wine was ruling o’er his brain;</span> -<span class="i0">The cruel wine that recked not of my pain.</span> -<span class="i0">Up from the angry throng a clamor rose;</span> -<span class="i0">The flattering sycophants were now my foes;</span> -<span class="i0">And evil counsellors about the throne,</span> -<span class="i0">Hiding the jealous joy they dared not own,</span> -<span class="i0">With slow, wise words, and many a virtuous frown,</span> -<span class="i0">Said, “Be the queen from her estate cast down!</span> -<span class="i0">Let her not see the king’s face evermore,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor come within his presence as of yore;</span> -<span class="i0">So disobedient wives through all the land</span> -<span class="i0">Shall read the lesson, heed and understand.”</span> -<span class="i0">Up spoke another, eager to be heard,</span> -<span class="i0">In royal councils fain to have a word,—</span> -<span class="i0">“Let this commandment of the king be writ,</span> -<span class="i0">In the law of the Medes and Persians, as is fit,—</span> -<span class="i0">The perfect law that man may alter not</span> -<span class="i0">Nor of its bitter end abate one jot.”</span> -<span class="i0">Alas! the king was wroth. Before his face</span> -<span class="i0">I could not go to plead my piteous case;</span> -<span class="i0">But, pitiless, with scarce dissembled sneers,</span> -<span class="i0">And poisoned words that rankled in his ears,</span> -<span class="i0">My wily foes, afraid to let him pause,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Brought the great book that held the Persian laws,</span> -<span class="i0">And ere the rising of the morrow’s sun,</span> -<span class="i0">My bitter doom was sealed, the deed was done!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Scarce had two moons passed when one dreary night</span> -<span class="i0">I sat within my bower in woeful plight,</span> -<span class="i0">When suddenly upon my presence stole</span> -<span class="i0">A muffled form, whose shadow stirred my soul</span> -<span class="i0">I knew not wherefore. Ere my tongue could speak,</span> -<span class="i0">Or with a breath the brooding silence break,</span> -<span class="i0">A low voice murmured “Vashti!”</span> -<span class="i22">Pale and still,</span> -<span class="i0">Hushing my heart’s cry with an iron will,</span> -<span class="i0">“What would the king?” I asked. No answer came,</span> -<span class="i0">But to his sad eyes leaped a sudden flame;</span> -<span class="i0">With clasping arms he raised me to his breast</span> -<span class="i0">And on my brow and lips such kisses pressed</span> -<span class="i0">As one might give the dead. I may not tell</span> -<span class="i0">All the wild words that I remember well.</span> -<span class="i0">Oh! was it joy or was it pain to know</span> -<span class="i0">That not alone I wept my weary woe?</span> -<span class="i0">Alas! I know not. But I know to-day—</span> -<span class="i0">If this be sin, forgive me, Heaven, I pray!—</span> -<span class="i0">That though his eyes have never looked on mine</span> -<span class="i0">Since that dark night when stars refused to shine,</span> -<span class="i0">And fair Queen Esther sits, a beauteous bride,</span> -<span class="i0">In stately Shushan at the monarch’s side,</span> -<span class="i0">The king remembers Vashti, even yet</span> -<span class="i0">Breathing her name sometimes with vain regret,</span> -<span class="i0">Or murmuring, haply, in a whisper low,—</span> -<span class="i0">“O pure, proud heart that loved me long ago!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WHAT MY FRIEND SAID TO ME</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Trouble? dear friend, I know her not. God sent</span> -<span class="i2">His angel Sorrow on my heart to lay</span> -<span class="i2">Her hand in benediction, and to say,</span> -<span class="i0">“Restore, O child, that which thy Father lent,</span> -<span class="i0">For He doth now recall it,” long ago.</span> -<span class="i4">His blessed angel Sorrow! She has walked</span> -<span class="i4">For years beside me, and we two have talked</span> -<span class="i0">As chosen friends together. Thus I know</span> -<span class="i0">Trouble and Sorrow are not near of kin.</span> -<span class="i2">Trouble distrusteth God, and ever wears</span> -<span class="i2">Upon her brow the seal of many cares;</span> -<span class="i0">But Sorrow oft hast deepest peace within.</span> -<span class="i2">She sits with Patience in perpetual calm,</span> -<span class="i2">Waiting till Heaven shall send the healing balm.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>HYMN <br /><br /> -<small>FOR THE DEDICATION OF A CEMETERY</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye Pines, with solemn grandeur crowned,</span> -<span class="i2">Put on your priestly robes to-day;</span> -<span class="i0">Henceforth ye stand on holy ground,</span> -<span class="i2">Where Love and Death hold equal sway.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lift up to Heaven each crested head,</span> -<span class="i2">And raise your giant arms on high,</span> -<span class="i0">And swear that o’er our slumbering dead</span> -<span class="i2">Ye will keep watch and ward for aye.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For month by month, and year by year,</span> -<span class="i2">While shine the stars, and rolls the sea,</span> -<span class="i0">Our silent ones shall gather here,</span> -<span class="i2">To rest beneath the greenwood tree.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here no rude sight nor sound shall break</span> -<span class="i2">The calmness of their last, long sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">And Earth and Heaven, for Love’s sweet sake,</span> -<span class="i2">Shall o’er them ceaseless vigils keep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our silent ones! Their very dust</span> -<span class="i2">Is precious in our longing eyes;</span> -<span class="i0">O, guard ye well the sacred trust,</span> -<span class="i2">Till God’s own voice shall bid them rise!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>YESTERDAY AND TO-DAY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yesterday among us here,</span> -<span class="i0">One with ourselves in hope and fear:</span> -<span class="i0">Joying like us in little things,</span> -<span class="i0">The sheen of gorgeous insect wings,</span> -<span class="i0">The song of bird, the hum of bee,</span> -<span class="i0">The white foam of the heaving sea.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yesterday your simplest speech,</span> -<span class="i0">Your lightest breath, our hearts could reach;</span> -<span class="i0">Your very thoughts were ours. Our eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Found in your own no mysteries.</span> -<span class="i0">Your griefs, your joys, your prayers, we knew,</span> -<span class="i0">The hopes that with your girlhood grew.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yesterday we dared to say,</span> -<span class="i0">“’Twere better you should walk this way</span> -<span class="i0">Or that, dear child! Do thus or so;</span> -<span class="i0">Older and wiser we, you know.”</span> -<span class="i0">We gave you flowers and curled your hair,</span> -<span class="i0">And brought new robes for you to wear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day how far away thou art!</span> -<span class="i0">In all thy life we have no part.</span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou a want? We know it not;</span> -<span class="i0">Utterly parted from our lot,</span> -<span class="i0">The veriest stranger is to thee</span> -<span class="i0">All those who loved thee best can be.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deaf to our calls, our prayers, our cries,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost not lift thy heavy eyes;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor heed the tender words that flow</span> -<span class="i0">From lips whose kisses thrilled thee so</span> -<span class="i0">But yesterday! To-day in vain</span> -<span class="i0">We wait for kisses back again.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day no awful mystery hid</span> -<span class="i0">The dark and mazy past amid</span> -<span class="i0">Is half so great as this that lies</span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the lids of thy shut eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">And in those frozen lips of stone,</span> -<span class="i0">Impassive lips, that smile nor moan.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yesterday with loving care</span> -<span class="i0">We petted, praised thee, called thee fair;</span> -<span class="i0">To-day, oppressed with awe, we stand</span> -<span class="i0">Before that ring-unfettered hand,</span> -<span class="i0">And scarcely dare to lift one tress</span> -<span class="i0">In mute and reverent caress.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yesterday with us. To-day</span> -<span class="i0">Where thou art dwelling, who can say?</span> -<span class="i0">In heaven? But where? Oh for some spell</span> -<span class="i0">To make thy tongue this secret tell!</span> -<span class="i0">To break the silence strange and deep,</span> -<span class="i0">That thy sealed lips so closely keep!</span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> - -<h3>LYRIC <br /><br /><small>FOR THE DEDICATION OF A MUSIC-HALL</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No grand Cathedral’s vaulted space</span> -<span class="i2">Where, through the “dim, religious light,”</span> -<span class="i0">Gleam pictured saint and cross and crown,</span> -<span class="i2">We consecrate with song to-night;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No stately temple lifting high</span> -<span class="i2">Its dome against the starlit skies,</span> -<span class="i0">Where lofty arch and glittering spire</span> -<span class="i2">Like miracles of beauty rise.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet here beneath this humbler roof</span> -<span class="i2">With reverent hearts and lips we come;</span> -<span class="i0">Hail, music! Song and Beauty, hail!</span> -<span class="i2">Henceforth be these poor walls your home.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here speak to hearts that long have yearned</span> -<span class="i2">Your presence and your spells to know;</span> -<span class="i0">Here touch the lips athirst to drink</span> -<span class="i2">Where your perennial fountains flow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here, where our glorious mountain-peaks</span> -<span class="i2">Sublimely pierce the ether blue,</span> -<span class="i0">Lift ye our souls, and bid them rise</span> -<span class="i2">In aspirations grand and true!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Music, Art, and Science, hail!</span> -<span class="i2">We greet you now with glad acclaims;</span> -<span class="i0">Ye bay-crowned ones! the listening air</span> -<span class="i2">Waits to re-echo with your names;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waits for your voices ringing clear</span> -<span class="i2">Above this weary, work-day world;</span> -<span class="i0">Waits till ye bid fair Truth arise,</span> -<span class="i2">While Error from her throne is hurled!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WHAT I LOST</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wandering in the dewy twilight</span> -<span class="i2">Of a golden summer day,</span> -<span class="i0">When the mists upon the mountains</span> -<span class="i2">Flushed with purple splendor lay:</span> -<span class="i0">When the sunlight kissed the hilltops</span> -<span class="i2">And the vales were hushed and dim,</span> -<span class="i0">And from out the forest arches</span> -<span class="i2">Rose a holy vesper hymn—</span> -<span class="i0">I lost something. Have you seen it,</span> -<span class="i2">Children, ye who passed that way?</span> -<span class="i0">Did you chance to find the treasure</span> -<span class="i2">That I lost that summer day?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was neither gold nor silver,</span> -<span class="i2">Orient pearl nor jewel rare;</span> -<span class="i0">Neither amethyst nor ruby,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor an opal gleaming fair;</span> -<span class="i0">’Twas no curious, quaint mosaic</span> -<span class="i2">Wrought by cunning master-hands,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor a cameo where Hebe,</span> -<span class="i2">Crowned with deathless beauty, stands.</span> -<span class="i0">Yet have I lost something precious;</span> -<span class="i2">Children, ye who passed that way—</span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, have you found the treasure</span> -<span class="i2">That I lost one summer day?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, you say, it was a casket</span> -<span class="i2">Filled with India’s perfumes rare,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Or a tiny flask of crystal</span> -<span class="i2">Meet the rose’s breath to bear;</span> -<span class="i0">Or a bird of wondrous plumage,</span> -<span class="i2">With a voice of sweetest tone,</span> -<span class="i0">That, escaping from my bosom,</span> -<span class="i2">To the greenwood deep has flown.</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! not these, I answer vainly;</span> -<span class="i2">Children, ye who passed that way,</span> -<span class="i0">Ye can never find the treasure</span> -<span class="i2">That I lost that summer day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You may call it bird or blossom;</span> -<span class="i2">Name my treasure what you will;</span> -<span class="i0">Here no more its song or fragrance</span> -<span class="i2">Shall my soul with rapture fill.</span> -<span class="i0">But, thank God! our earthly losses</span> -<span class="i2">In no darksome void are cast;</span> -<span class="i0">Safely garnered, some to-morrow</span> -<span class="i2">Shall restore them all at last.</span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere in the great hereafter,</span> -<span class="i2">Children, ye who pass this way,</span> -<span class="i0">I shall find again the treasure</span> -<span class="i2">That I lost one summer day!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>ONCE!</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Once in your sight,</span> -<span class="i0">As May buds swell in the sun’s warm light,</span> -<span class="i12">So grew her soul,</span> -<span class="i0">Yielding itself to your sweet control.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Once if you spoke,</span> -<span class="i0">Echoing strains in her heart awoke,</span> -<span class="i12">Sending a thrill</span> -<span class="i0">All through its chambers sweet and still.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Once if you said,</span> -<span class="i0">“Sweet, with Love’s garland I crown your head,”</span> -<span class="i12">Ah! how the rose</span> -<span class="i0">Flooded her forehead’s pale repose!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Once if your lip</span> -<span class="i0">Dared the pure sweetness of hers to sip,</span> -<span class="i12">Softly and meek</span> -<span class="i0">Dark lashes drooped on a white rose cheek!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Once if your name</span> -<span class="i0">Some one but whispered, a sudden flame</span> -<span class="i12">Burned on her cheek,</span> -<span class="i0">Telling a story she would not speak!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">You do but wait</span> -<span class="i0">At a sepulchre’s sealed gate!</span> -<span class="i12">Her love is dead,</span> -<span class="i0">Bound hand and foot in its narrow bed.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Why did it die?</span> -<span class="i0">Ask of your soul the reason why!</span> -<span class="i12">Question it well,</span> -<span class="i0">And surely the secret it will tell.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">But if your heart</span> -<span class="i0">Ever again plays the lover’s part,</span> -<span class="i12">Let this truth be</span> -<span class="i0">Blent with the solemn mystery:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Pure flame aspires;</span> -<span class="i0">Downward flow not the altar fires;</span> -<span class="i12">And skylarks soar</span> -<span class="i0">Up where the earth-mists vex no more.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Now loose your hold</span> -<span class="i0">From her white garment’s spotless fold,</span> -<span class="i12">And let her pass—</span> -<span class="i0">While both hearts murmur, “Alas! alas!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>CATHARINE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O wondrous mystery of death!</span> -<span class="i2">I yield me to thine awful sway,</span> -<span class="i0">And with hushed heart and bated breath</span> -<span class="i2">Bow down before thy shrine to-day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yesterday these pallid lips</span> -<span class="i2">Breathed reverently my humble name;</span> -<span class="i0">These eyes now closed in drear eclipse</span> -<span class="i2">Brightened with gratitude’s soft flame.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These poor, pale hands were swift to do</span> -<span class="i2">The lowliest service I might ask;</span> -<span class="i0">These palsied feet the long day through</span> -<span class="i2">Moved gladly to each wonted task.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O faithful, patient, loving one,</span> -<span class="i2">Who from earth’s great ones shrank afar,</span> -<span class="i0">Canst bear the presence of The Son,</span> -<span class="i2">And dwell where holy angels are?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dost thou not meekly bow thine head,</span> -<span class="i2">And stand apart with humblest mien,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor dare with softest step to tread</span> -<span class="i2">The ranks of shining Ones between?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dost thou not kneel with downcast eyes</span> -<span class="i2">The hem of some white robe to touch,</span> -<span class="i0">While on thine own meek forehead lies</span> -<span class="i2">The crown of her who “lovèd much?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O vain imaginings! To-day</span> -<span class="i2">Earth’s loftiest prince is not thy peer.</span> -<span class="i0">Come, Sage and Seer! mute homage pay</span> -<span class="i2">To this Pale Wonder lying here!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE NAME</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know not by what name to call thee, thou</span> -<span class="i2">Who reignest supreme, sole sovereign of my heart!</span> -<span class="i2">Thou who the lode-star of my being art,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou before whom my soul delights to bow!</span> -<span class="i0">What shall I call thee? Teach me some dear name</span> -<span class="i2">Better than all the rest, that I may pour</span> -<span class="i2">All that the years have taught me of love’s lore</span> -<span class="i0">In one fond word. “Lover?” But that’s too tame,</span> -<span class="i0">And “Friend”’s too cold, though thou art both to me.</span> -<span class="i2">Art thou my King? Kings sit enthroned afar,</span> -<span class="i2">And crowns less meet for love than reverence are,</span> -<span class="i0">While both my heart gives joyfully to thee.</span> -<span class="i2">Art thou—but, ah! I’ll cease the idle quest:</span> -<span class="i2">I cannot tell what name befits thee best!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>UNDER THE PALM-TREES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We were children together, you and I;</span> -<span class="i2">We trod the same paths in days of old;</span> -<span class="i0">Together we watched the sunset sky,</span> -<span class="i2">And counted its bars of massive gold.</span> -<span class="i0">And when from the dark horizon’s brim</span> -<span class="i0">The moon stole up with its silver rim,</span> -<span class="i0">And slowly sailed through the fields of air,</span> -<span class="i0">We thought there was nothing on earth so fair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You walk to-night where the jasmines grow,</span> -<span class="i2">And the Cross looks down from the tropic skies;</span> -<span class="i0">Where the spicy breezes softly blow,</span> -<span class="i2">And the slender shafts of the palm-trees rise.</span> -<span class="i0">You breathe the breath of the orange-flowers,</span> -<span class="i0">And the perfumed air of the myrtle-bowers;</span> -<span class="i0">You pluck the acacia’s golden balls,</span> -<span class="i0">And mark where the red pomegranate falls.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stand to-night on the breezy hill,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the pine-trees sing as they sang of yore;</span> -<span class="i0">The north star burneth clear and still,</span> -<span class="i2">And the moonbeams silver your father’s door.</span> -<span class="i0">I can see the hound as he lies asleep,</span> -<span class="i0">In the shadow close by the old well-sweep,</span> -<span class="i0">And hear the river’s murmuring flow</span> -<span class="i0">As we two heard it long ago.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do you think of the firs on the mountain-side</span> -<span class="i2">As you walk to-night where the palm-trees grow?</span> -<span class="i0">Of the brook where the trout in the darkness hide?</span> -<span class="i2">Of the yellow willows waving slow?</span> -<span class="i0">Do you long to drink of the crystal spring,</span> -<span class="i0">In the dell where the purple harebells swing?</span> -<span class="i0">Would your pulses leap could you hear once more</span> -<span class="i0">The sound of the flail on the threshing-floor?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! the years are long, and the world is wide,</span> -<span class="i2">And the salt sea rolls our hearts between;</span> -<span class="i0">And never again at eventide</span> -<span class="i2">Shall we two gaze on the same fair scene.</span> -<span class="i0">But under the palm-trees wandering slow,</span> -<span class="i0">You think of the spreading elms I know;</span> -<span class="i0">And you deem our daisies fairer far</span> -<span class="i0">Than the gorgeous blooms of the tropics are!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>NIGHT AND MORNING</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night and darkness over all!</span> -<span class="i0">Nature sleeps beneath a pall;</span> -<span class="i0">Not a ray from moon or stars</span> -<span class="i0">Glimmers through the cloudy bars;</span> -<span class="i0">Huge and black the mountains stand</span> -<span class="i0">Frowning upon either hand,</span> -<span class="i0">And the river, dark and deep,</span> -<span class="i0">Gropes its way from steep to steep.</span> -<span class="i0">Yonder tree, whose young leaves played</span> -<span class="i0">In the sunshine and the shade,</span> -<span class="i0">Stretches out its arms like one</span> -<span class="i0">Sudden blindness hath undone.</span> -<span class="i0">Pale and dim the rose-queen lies</span> -<span class="i0">Robbed of all her gorgeous dyes,</span> -<span class="i0">And the lily bendeth low,</span> -<span class="i0">Mourner in a garb of woe.</span> -<span class="i0">Never a shadow comes or goes,</span> -<span class="i0">Never a gleam its glory throws</span> -<span class="i0">Over cottage or over hall—</span> -<span class="i0">Darkness broodeth over all!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo! the glorious morning breaks!</span> -<span class="i0">Nature from her sleep awakes,</span> -<span class="i0">And, in purple pomp, the day</span> -<span class="i0">Bids the darkness flee away.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Crowned with light the mountains stand</span> -<span class="i0">Royally on either hand,</span> -<span class="i0">And the laughing waters run</span> -<span class="i0">In glad haste to meet the sun.</span> -<span class="i0">Stately trees, exultant, raise</span> -<span class="i0">Their proud heads in grateful praise;</span> -<span class="i0">Flowers, dew-laden, everywhere</span> -<span class="i0">Pour rich incense on the air,</span> -<span class="i0">And the ascending vapors rise</span> -<span class="i0">Like the smoke of sacrifice.</span> -<span class="i0">Birds are trilling, bees are humming,</span> -<span class="i0">Swift to greet the new day coming,</span> -<span class="i0">And earth’s myriad voices sing</span> -<span class="i0">Hymns of grateful welcoming.</span> -<span class="i0">Bursting from night’s heavy thrall,</span> -<span class="i0">Heaven’s own light is over all!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AGNES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Agnes! Agnes! is it thus</span> -<span class="i0">Thou, at last, dost come to us?</span> -<span class="i0">From the land of balm and bloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Blandest airs and sweet perfume,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the jasmine’s golden stars</span> -<span class="i0">Glimmer soft through emerald bars,</span> -<span class="i0">And the fragrant orange flowers</span> -<span class="i0">Fall to earth in silver showers,</span> -<span class="i6">Agnes! Agnes!</span> -<span class="i0">With thy pale hands on thy breast,</span> -<span class="i0">Comest thou here to take thy rest?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Agnes! Agnes! o’er thy grave</span> -<span class="i0">Loud the winter winds will rave,</span> -<span class="i0">And the snow fall fast around,</span> -<span class="i0">Heaping high thy burial mound;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet, within its soft embrace,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy dear form and earnest face,</span> -<span class="i0">Wrapt away from burning pain,</span> -<span class="i0">Ne’er shall know one pang again.</span> -<span class="i6">Agnes! Agnes!</span> -<span class="i0">Nevermore shall anguish vex thee,</span> -<span class="i0">Nevermore shall care perplex thee.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Agnes! Agnes! wait, ah! wait</span> -<span class="i0">Just one moment at the gate,</span> -<span class="i0">Ere your pure feet enter in</span> -<span class="i0">Where is neither pain nor sin.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art blest, but how shall we</span> -<span class="i0">Bear the pang of losing thee?</span> -<span class="i0">List! <i>we love thee!</i> By that word</span> -<span class="i0">Once thy heart of hearts was stirred.</span> -<span class="i6">Agnes! Agnes!</span> -<span class="i0">By that love we bid thee wait</span> -<span class="i0">Just one moment at the gate!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Agnes! Agnes! No! Pass on</span> -<span class="i0">To the heaven that thou hast won!</span> -<span class="i0">By thy life of brave endeavor,</span> -<span class="i0">Up the heights aspiring ever,</span> -<span class="i0">Whence thy voice, like clarion clear,</span> -<span class="i0">Rang out words of lofty cheer;</span> -<span class="i0">By thy laboring not in vain,</span> -<span class="i0">By thy martyrdom of pain,</span> -<span class="i6">Our Saint Agnes—</span> -<span class="i0">From our yearning sight pass on</span> -<span class="i0">To the rest that thou hast won!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>“INTO THY HANDS”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into thy hands, O Father! Now at last,</span> -<span class="i2">Weary with struggling and with long unrest,</span> -<span class="i0">Vext by remembrances of conflicts past</span> -<span class="i2">And by a host of present cares opprest,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I come to thee and cry, Thy will be done!</span> -<span class="i2">Take thou the burden I have borne too long.</span> -<span class="i0">Into thy hands, O mighty, loving One,</span> -<span class="i2">My weakness gives its all, for thou art strong!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For life—for death. I cannot see the way;</span> -<span class="i2">I blindly wander on to meet the night;</span> -<span class="i0">The path grows steeper, and the dying day</span> -<span class="i2">Soon with its shadows will shut out the light.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hold thou my hand, O Father! I am tired</span> -<span class="i2">As a young child that wearies of the road;</span> -<span class="i0">And the far heights toward which I once aspired</span> -<span class="i2">Have lost the glory with which erst they glowed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take thou my life, and mold it to thy will;</span> -<span class="i2">Into thy hands commit I all my way;</span> -<span class="i0">Fain would I lift each cup that thou dost fill,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor from its brim my pale lips ever stay.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take thou my life. I lay it at thy feet;</span> -<span class="i2">And in my death my sure support be thou;</span> -<span class="i0">So shall I sink to slumber calm and sweet,</span> -<span class="i2">And wake at morn before thy face to bow!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>IDLE WORDS</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Once I said,</span> -<span class="i0">Seeing two soft, starry eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Darkly bright as midnight skies,—</span> -<span class="i0">Eyes prophetic of the power</span> -<span class="i0">Sure to be thy woman’s dower,</span> -<span class="i0">When the years should crown thee queen</span> -<span class="i0">Of the realm as yet unseen,—</span> -<span class="i0">“Some time, sweet, those eyes shall make</span> -<span class="i0">Lovers mad for their sweet sake!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Once I said,</span> -<span class="i0">Seeing tresses, golden-brown,</span> -<span class="i0">In a bright shower falling down</span> -<span class="i0">Over neck and bosom white</span> -<span class="i0">As an angel’s clad in light—</span> -<span class="i0">Odorous tresses drooping low</span> -<span class="i0">O’er a forehead pure as snow,—</span> -<span class="i0">“Some time, sweet, in thy soft hair</span> -<span class="i0">Love shall set a shining snare!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Once I said,</span> -<span class="i0">Seeing lips whose crimson hue</span> -<span class="i0">Mocked the roses wet with dew,—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Warm, sweet lips, whose breath was balm,—</span> -<span class="i0">Pure, proud lips, serenely calm,—</span> -<span class="i0">Tender lips, whose smiling grace</span> -<span class="i0">Lit with splendor all the face,—</span> -<span class="i0">“Sweet, for kiss of thine some day</span> -<span class="i0">Men will barter souls away!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Idly said!</span> -<span class="i0">God hath taken care of all</span> -<span class="i0">Joy or pain that might befall!</span> -<span class="i0">Lover’s lip shall never thrill</span> -<span class="i0">At thy kisses, soft and still;</span> -<span class="i0">Lover’s heart shall never break</span> -<span class="i0">In sore anguish for thy sake;</span> -<span class="i0">Lover’s soul for thee shall know</span> -<span class="i0">Nor love’s rapture, nor its woe;—</span> -<span class="i8">All is said!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE SPARROW TO THE SKYLARK</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O skylark, soaring, soaring,</span> -<span class="i2">Ere day is well begun,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy full, glad song outpouring</span> -<span class="i2">To greet the rising sun,—</span> -<span class="i0">So high, so high in heaven</span> -<span class="i2">Thy swift wing cleaves the blue,</span> -<span class="i0">We sparrows in the hedges</span> -<span class="i2">Can scarcely follow you!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O strong, unwearied singer!</span> -<span class="i2">By summer winds caressed,</span> -<span class="i0">Among the white clouds floating</span> -<span class="i2">With sunshine on thy breast,</span> -<span class="i0">We hear thy clear notes dropping</span> -<span class="i2">In showers of golden rain,</span> -<span class="i0">A glad, triumphant music</span> -<span class="i2">That hath no thought of pain!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We twitter in the hedges;</span> -<span class="i2">We chirp our little songs,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose low, monotonous murmur</span> -<span class="i2">To homeliest life belongs;</span> -<span class="i0">We perch in lowly places,</span> -<span class="i2">We hop from bough to bough,</span> -<span class="i0">While in the wide sky-spaces,</span> -<span class="i2">On strong wing soarest thou!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet we—we share the rapture</span> -<span class="i2">And glory of thy flight—</span> -<span class="i0">Thou’rt still a bird, O skylark,—</span> -<span class="i2">Thou spirit glad and bright!</span> -<span class="i0">And ah! no sparrow knoweth</span> -<span class="i2">But its low note may be</span> -<span class="i0">Part of earth’s joy and gladness</span> -<span class="i2">That finds full voice in thee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE BELL OF ST. PAUL’S</h3> - -<p class="center">“The great bell of St. Paul’s, which<br />only sounds -when the King is dead.”</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Toll, toll, thou solemn bell!</span> -<span class="i2">A royal head lies low,</span> -<span class="i0">And mourners through the palace halls</span> -<span class="i2">Slowly and sadly go.</span> -<span class="i0">Lift up thine awful voice,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou, silent for so long!</span> -<span class="i0">Say that a monarch’s soul has passed</span> -<span class="i2">To join the shadowy throng.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Toll yet again, thou bell!</span> -<span class="i2">Mutely thine iron tongue,</span> -<span class="i0">Prisoned within yon lofty tower,</span> -<span class="i2">For many a year has hung.</span> -<span class="i0">But now its mournful peal</span> -<span class="i2">Startles a nation’s ear,</span> -<span class="i0">And swells from listening shore to shore,</span> -<span class="i2">That the whole world may hear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A whisper from the past</span> -<span class="i2">Blends with each solemn tone</span> -<span class="i0">That from those brazen lips of thine</span> -<span class="i2">Upon the air is thrown.</span> -<span class="i0">Never had trumpet’s peal,</span> -<span class="i2">On clarion sounding shrill,</span> -<span class="i0">Such power as that deep undertone</span> -<span class="i2">The listener’s heart to thrill.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, tell us tales, thou bell,</span> -<span class="i2">Of those of old renown,</span> -<span class="i0">Those sturdy warrior kings who fought</span> -<span class="i2">For sceptre and for crown.</span> -<span class="i0">Tell of the lion-hearts</span> -<span class="i2">Whose pulses moved the world;</span> -<span class="i0">Whose banners flew so swift and far,</span> -<span class="i2">O’er land and sea unfurled!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From out the buried years,</span> -<span class="i2">From many a vaulted tomb,</span> -<span class="i0">Whence neither pomp nor power could chase</span> -<span class="i2">The dim, sepulchral gloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Lo, now, a pale, proud line,</span> -<span class="i2">They glide before our eyes!—</span> -<span class="i0">Art thou a wizard, mighty bell,</span> -<span class="i2">To bid the dead arise?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But toll, toll on, thou bell!</span> -<span class="i2">Toll for the royal dead;</span> -<span class="i0">Toll—for the hand now sceptreless;</span> -<span class="i2">Toll—for the crownless head;</span> -<span class="i0">Toll—for the human heart</span> -<span class="i2">With all its loves and woes;</span> -<span class="i0">Toll—for the soul that passes now</span> -<span class="i2">Unto its long repose!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>DECEMBER 26, 1910 <br /><br /><small>A BALLAD OF MAJOR ANDERSON</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, children, leave your playing this dark and stormy night,</span> -<span class="i0">Shut fast the rattling window-blinds, and make the fire burn bright;</span> -<span class="i0">And hear an old man’s story, while loud the fierce winds blow,</span> -<span class="i0">Of gallant Major Anderson and fifty years ago.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was a young man then, boys, but twenty-nine years old,</span> -<span class="i0">And all my comrades knew me for a soldier brave and bold;</span> -<span class="i0">My eye was bright, my step was firm, I measured six feet two,</span> -<span class="i0">And I knew not what it was to shirk when there was work to do.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We were stationed at Fort Moultrie, in Charleston harbor, then,</span> -<span class="i0">A brave band, though a small one, of scarcely seventy men;</span> -<span class="i0">And day and night we waited for the coming of the foe,</span> -<span class="i0">With noble Major Anderson, just fifty years ago.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Were they French or English, ask you? Oh, neither, neither, child!</span> -<span class="i0">We were at peace with other lands, and all the nations smiled</span> -<span class="i0">On the stars and stripes, wherever they floated far and free,</span> -<span class="i0">And all the foes we had to meet we found this side the sea.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But even between brothers bitter feuds will sometimes rise,</span> -<span class="i0">And ’twas the cloud of civil war that darkened in the skies;</span> -<span class="i0">I have not time to tell you how the quarrel first began,</span> -<span class="i0">Or how it grew, till o’er our land the strife like wildfire ran.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will not use hard words, my boys, for I am old and gray,</span> -<span class="i0">And I’ve learned it is an easy thing for the best to go astray;</span> -<span class="i0">Some wrong there was on either part, I do not doubt at all;</span> -<span class="i0">There are two sides to a quarrel—be it great or be it small!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You scarce believe me, children. Grief and doubt are in your eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Fixed steadily upon me in wonder and surprise;</span> -<span class="i0">Don’t forget to thank our Father, when to-night you kneel to pray,</span> -<span class="i0">That an undivided people rule America to-day.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We were stationed at Fort Moultrie—but about a mile away,</span> -<span class="i0">The battlements of Sumter stood proudly in the bay;</span> -<span class="i0">’Twas by far the best position, as he could not help but know,</span> -<span class="i0">Our gallant Major Anderson, just fifty years ago.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, ’twas just after Christmas, fifty years ago to-night;</span> -<span class="i0">The sky was calm and cloudless, the moon was large and bright;</span> -<span class="i0">At six o’clock the drum beat to call us to parade,</span> -<span class="i0">And not a man suspected the plan that had been laid.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the first thing a soldier learns is that he must obey,</span> -<span class="i0">And that when an order’s given he has not a word to say;</span> -<span class="i0">So when told to man the boats, not a question did we ask,</span> -<span class="i0">But silently, yet eagerly, began our hurried task.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We did a deal of work that night, though our numbers were but few;</span> -<span class="i0">We had all our stores to carry, and our ammunition too;</span> -<span class="i0">And the guard-ship—’twas the Nina—set to watch us in the bay,</span> -<span class="i0">Never dreamed what we were doing, though ’twas almost light as day.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We spiked the guns we left behind, and cut the flag-staff down,—</span> -<span class="i0">From its top should float no colors if it might not hold our own,—</span> -<span class="i0">Then we sailed away for Sumter as fast as we could go,</span> -<span class="i0">With our good Major Anderson, just fifty years ago.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I never can forget, my boys, how the next day, at noon,</span> -<span class="i0">The drums beat and the band played a stirring martial tune,</span> -<span class="i0">And silently we gathered round the flag-staff, strong and high,</span> -<span class="i0">Forever pointing upward to God’s temple in the sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our noble Major Anderson was good as he was brave,</span> -<span class="i0">And he knew without His blessing no banner long could wave;</span> -<span class="i0">So he knelt, with head uncovered, while the chaplain read a prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">And as the last amen was said, the flag rose high in air.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then our loud huzzas rang out, far and widely o’er the sea!</span> -<span class="i0">We shouted for the stars and stripes, the standard of the free!</span> -<span class="i0">Every eye was fixed upon it, every heart beat warm and fast,</span> -<span class="i0">As with eager lips we promised to defend it to the last!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas a sight to be remembered, boys—the chaplain with his book,</span> -<span class="i0">Our leader humbly kneeling, with his calm, undaunted look;</span> -<span class="i0">And the officers and men, crushing tears they would not shed,—</span> -<span class="i0">And the blue sea all around us, and the blue sky overhead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, go to bed, my children, the old man’s story’s told,—</span> -<span class="i0">Stir up the fire before you go, ’tis bitter, bitter cold;</span> -<span class="i0">And I’ll tell you more to-morrow night, when loud the fierce winds blow,</span> -<span class="i0">Of gallant Major Anderson and fifty years ago.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>FROM BATON ROUGE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the fierce conflict and the deadly fray</span> -<span class="i0">A patriot hero comes to us this day.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Greet him with music and with loud acclaim,</span> -<span class="i0">And let our hills re-echo with his name.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bring rarest flowers their rich perfume to shed,</span> -<span class="i0">Like sweetest incense, round the warrior’s head.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let heart and voice cry “welcome,” and a shout,</span> -<span class="i0">Upon the summer air, ring gayly out,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To hail the hero, who from fierce affray</span> -<span class="i0">And deadly conflict comes to us this day.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! alas! for smiles ye give but tears,</span> -<span class="i0">And wordless sorrow on each face appears.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And for glad music, jubilant and clear,</span> -<span class="i0">The tolling bell, the muffled drum, we hear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Woe to <i>us</i>, soldier, loyal, tried, and brave,</span> -<span class="i0">That we have naught to give thee but a grave.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Woe that the wreath that should have decked thy brow,</span> -<span class="i0">Can but be laid upon thy coffin now.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Woe that thou canst not hear us when we say,—</span> -<span class="i0">“Hail to thee, brother, welcome home to-day!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O God, we lift our waiting eyes to Thee,</span> -<span class="i0">And sadly cry, how long must these things be?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How long must noble blood be poured like rain,</span> -<span class="i0">Flooding our land from mountain unto main?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How long from desolated hearths must rise</span> -<span class="i0">The smoke of life’s most costly sacrifice?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our brothers languish upon beds of pain,—</span> -<span class="i0">Father, O Father, have they bled in vain?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it for naught that they have drunken up</span> -<span class="i0">The very dregs of this most bitter cup?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How long? how long? O God! our cause is just,</span> -<span class="i0">And in Thee only do we put our trust.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As Thou didst guide the Israelites of old</span> -<span class="i0">Through the Red Sea, and through the desert wold,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lead Thou our leaders, and our land shall be</span> -<span class="i0">For evermore, the land where all are free!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hail and farewell,—we whisper in one breath,</span> -<span class="i0">As thus we meet thee, hand in hand with death!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God give thy ashes undisturbed repose</span> -<span class="i0">Where drum-beat wakens neither friend nor foes;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God take thy spirit to eternal rest,</span> -<span class="i0">And, for Christ’s sake, enroll thee with the blest!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>IN THE WILDERNESS <br /><br /><small><span class="smcap">May 6, 1864</span></small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How beautiful was earth that day!</span> -<span class="i2">The far blue sky had not a cloud;</span> -<span class="i0">The river rippled on its way,</span> -<span class="i6">Singing sweet songs aloud.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The delicate beauty of the spring</span> -<span class="i2">Pervaded all the murmuring air;</span> -<span class="i0">It touched with grace the meanest thing</span> -<span class="i6">And made it very fair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blithe birds darted to and fro,</span> -<span class="i2">The bees were humming round the hive,</span> -<span class="i0">So happy in that radiant glow!</span> -<span class="i6">So glad to be alive!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I? My heart was calmly blest.</span> -<span class="i2">I knew afar the war-cloud rolled</span> -<span class="i0">Lurid and dark, in fierce unrest,</span> -<span class="i6">Laden with woes untold.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But on that day my fears were stilled;</span> -<span class="i2">The very air I breathed was joy;</span> -<span class="i0">The rest and peace my soul that filled</span> -<span class="i6">Had nothing of alloy.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I took the flower he loved the best,</span> -<span class="i2">The arbutus,—fairest child of May,—</span> -<span class="i0">And with its perfume half oppressed,</span> -<span class="i6">Twined many a lovely spray</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">About his picture on the wall;</span> -<span class="i2">His eyes were on me all the while,</span> -<span class="i0">And when I had arranged them all</span> -<span class="i6">I thought he seemed to smile.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Christ, be pitiful! That hour</span> -<span class="i2">Saw him fall bleeding on the sod;</span> -<span class="i0">And while I toyed with leaf and flower</span> -<span class="i6">His soul went up to God!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For him one pang—and then a crown;</span> -<span class="i2">For him the laurels heroes wear;</span> -<span class="i0">For him a name whose long renown</span> -<span class="i6">Ages shall onward bear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For me the cross without the crown;</span> -<span class="i2">For me the drear and lonely life;</span> -<span class="i0">O God! My sun, not his, went down</span> -<span class="i6">On that red field of strife.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>CHARLEY OF MALVERN HILL</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A war-worn soldier, bronzed and seamed</span> -<span class="i2">By weary march and battle stroke;</span> -<span class="i0">’Twas thus, while leaning on his crutch,</span> -<span class="i6">The wounded veteran spoke,—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The blue-eyed boy of Malvern Hill!</span> -<span class="i2">A hero every inch was he,</span> -<span class="i0">Though scarcely larger than the child</span> -<span class="i6">You hold, sir, on your knee.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some mother’s darling! On that field</span> -<span class="i2">He seemed so strangely out of place,</span> -<span class="i0">With his pure brow, his shining hair,</span> -<span class="i6">His sweet, unconscious grace.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But not a bearded warrior there</span> -<span class="i2">Watched with a more undaunted eye</span> -<span class="i0">The blackness of the battle-cloud,</span> -<span class="i6">As the fierce storm rose high.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That morn—ah! what a morn was that!—</span> -<span class="i2">We thought to send him to the rear;</span> -<span class="i0">We loved the lad—and love, you know,</span> -<span class="i6">Is near akin to fear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We knew that many a gallant soul</span> -<span class="i2">Must pass away in one long sigh,</span> -<span class="i0">Ere nightfall. On that bloody field,</span> -<span class="i6">’Twas not for boys to die.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But he—could you have seen him then,</span> -<span class="i2">As, with his blue eyes full of fire,</span> -<span class="i0">He poured forth tears and pleadings, half</span> -<span class="i6">Of shame and half of ire!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Oh! do not bid me go!’ he cried;</span> -<span class="i2">‘I love yon flag as well as you!</span> -<span class="i0">I did not join your ranks to run</span> -<span class="i6">When there is work to do!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I did not come to beat my drum</span> -<span class="i2">Only upon some gala day.’</span> -<span class="i0">The colonel shook his head, but said,</span> -<span class="i6">‘Well, Charley, you may stay.’</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! then his tears were quickly dried,</span> -<span class="i2">A few glad words he strove to say;</span> -<span class="i0">But there was little time to talk,</span> -<span class="i6">And hardly time to pray.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For bitter, bitter was the strife</span> -<span class="i2">That raged that day on Malvern Hill;</span> -<span class="i0">Blue coats and gray in great heaps lay,</span> -<span class="i6">Ere that wild storm grew still.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At length we charged. My very heart</span> -<span class="i2">Sank down within me, cold and dumb,</span> -<span class="i0">When to the front, and far ahead,</span> -<span class="i6">Rushed Charley with his drum!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Above the cannon’s thundering boom,</span> -<span class="i2">The din and shriek of shot and shell,</span> -<span class="i0">We heard its clear peal rolling out</span> -<span class="i6">Right gallantly and well.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A moment’s awful waiting! Then</span> -<span class="i2">There came a sullen, angry roar,—</span> -<span class="i0">O God! An empty void remained</span> -<span class="i6">Where Charley stood before.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What did we then? With souls on fire</span> -<span class="i2">We swept upon the advancing foe,</span> -<span class="i0">And bade good angels guard the dust</span> -<span class="i6">O‘er which no tears might flow!”</span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> - -<h3>SUPPLICAMUS <br /><br />1864</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O laggard Sun! make haste to wake</span> -<span class="i2">From her long trance the slumbering earth;</span> -<span class="i0">Make haste this icy spell to break,</span> -<span class="i2">That she may give new glories birth!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O April rain! so soft, so warm,</span> -<span class="i2">Bounteous in blessing, rich in gifts,</span> -<span class="i0">Drop tenderly upon her form,</span> -<span class="i2">And bathe the forehead she uplifts.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O springing grass! make haste to run</span> -<span class="i2">With swift feet o’er the meadows bare;</span> -<span class="i0">O’er hill and dale, through forest dun,</span> -<span class="i2">And where the wandering brooklets are!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sweet wild flowers! the darksome mould</span> -<span class="i2">Hasten with subtle strength to rift;</span> -<span class="i0">Serene in beauty, meek yet bold,</span> -<span class="i2">Your fair brows to the sunlight lift!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O haste ye all! for far away</span> -<span class="i2">In lonely beds our heroes sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">O’er which no wife may ever pray,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor child nor mother ever weep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No quaintly carved memorial stone</span> -<span class="i2">May tell us that their ashes lie</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Where southern pines make solemn moan,</span> -<span class="i2">And wailing winds give sad reply.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But deep in dreary, lonesome shades,</span> -<span class="i2">On many a barren, sandy plain,</span> -<span class="i0">By rocky pass, in tangled glades,</span> -<span class="i2">And by the rolling, restless main;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By rushing stream, by silent lake,</span> -<span class="i2">Uncoffined in their lowly graves,</span> -<span class="i0">Until the earth’s last morn shall break,</span> -<span class="i2">Must sleep our unforgotten braves!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sun! O rain! O gentle dew!</span> -<span class="i2">O fresh young grass, and opening flowers!</span> -<span class="i0">With yearning hearts we leave to you</span> -<span class="i2">The holy task that should be ours!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Light up the darkling forest’s gloom;</span> -<span class="i2">Cover the bare, unsightly clay</span> -<span class="i0">With tenderest verdure, with the bloom,</span> -<span class="i2">The beauty and perfume of May!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sweet blue violets! softly creep</span> -<span class="i2">Beside the slumbering warrior’s bed;</span> -<span class="i0">O roses! let your red hearts leap</span> -<span class="i2">For joy your rarest sweets to shed;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O humble mosses! such as make</span> -<span class="i2">New England’s woods and pastures fair,</span> -<span class="i0">Over each mound, for Love’s sweet sake,</span> -<span class="i2">Spread your soft folds with tender care.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear Nature, to your loving breast</span> -<span class="i2">Clasp our dead heroes! In your arms</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet be their sleep, serene their rest,</span> -<span class="i2">Unmoved by Battle’s loud alarms!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE LAST OF SIX</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come in; you are welcome, neighbor; all day I’ve been alone,</span> -<span class="i0">And heard the wailing, wintry wind sweep by with bitter moan;</span> -<span class="i0">And to-night beside my lonely fire, I mutely wonder why</span> -<span class="i0">I, who once wept as others weep, sit here with tearless eye.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day this letter came to me. At first I could not brook</span> -<span class="i0">Upon the unfamiliar lines by strangers penned, to look;</span> -<span class="i0">The dread of evil tidings shook my soul with wild alarm—</span> -<span class="i0">But Harry’s in the hospital, and has only lost an arm.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He is the last—the last of six brave boys as e’er were seen!</span> -<span class="i0">How short, to memory’s vision, seem the years that lie between</span> -<span class="i0">This hour and those most blessed ones, when round this hearth’s bright blaze</span> -<span class="i0">They charmed their mother’s heart and eye with all their pretty ways!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My William was the eldest son, and he was first to go.</span> -<span class="i0">It did not at all surprise me, for I knew it would be so,</span> -<span class="i0">From that fearful April Sunday when the news from Sumter came,</span> -<span class="i0">And his lips grew white as ashes, while his eyes were all aflame.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He sprang to join the three months’ men. I could not say him nay,</span> -<span class="i0">Though my heart stood still within me when I saw him march away;</span> -<span class="i0">At the corner of the street he smiled, and waved the flag he bore;</span> -<span class="i0">I never saw him smile again—he was slain at Baltimore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They sent his body back to me, and as we stood around</span> -<span class="i0">His grave, beside his father’s, in yonder burial-ground,</span> -<span class="i0">John laid his hand upon my arm and whispered, “Mother dear,</span> -<span class="i0">I have Willy’s work and mine to do. I cannot loiter here.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I turned and looked at Paul, for he and John were twins, you know,</span> -<span class="i0">Born on a happy Christmas, four-and-twenty years ago;</span> -<span class="i0">I looked upon them both, while my tears fell down like rain,</span> -<span class="i0">For I knew what one had spoken, had been spoken by the twain.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a month or more they left me—the merry, handsome boys,</span> -<span class="i0">Who had kept the old house ringing with their laughter, fun, and noise.</span> -<span class="i0">Then James came home to mind the farm; my younger sons were still</span> -<span class="i0">Mere children, at their lessons in the school-house on the hill.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O days of weary waiting! O days of doubt and dread!</span> -<span class="i0">I feared to read the papers, or to see the lists of dead;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -<span class="i0">But when full many a battle-storm had left them both unharmed,</span> -<span class="i0">I taught my foolish heart to think the double lives were charmed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their colonel since has told me that no braver boys than they</span> -<span class="i0">Ever rallied round the colors, in the thickest of the fray;</span> -<span class="i0">Upon the wall behind you their swords are hanging still—</span> -<span class="i0">For John was killed at Fair Oaks, and Paul at Malvern Hill.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then came the dark days, darker than any known before;</span> -<span class="i0">There was another call for men—“three hundred thousand more;”</span> -<span class="i0">I saw the cloud on Jamie’s brow grow deeper day by day;</span> -<span class="i0">I shrank before the impending blow, and scarce had strength to pray.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet at last I bade him go, while on my cheek and brow</span> -<span class="i0">His loving tears and kisses fell; I feel them even now,</span> -<span class="i0">Though the eyes that shed the tears, and the lips so warm on mine</span> -<span class="i0">Are hidden under southern sands, beneath a blasted pine!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He did not die in battle-smoke, but for a weary year</span> -<span class="i0">He languished in close prison walls, a prey to hope and fear;</span> -<span class="i0">I dare not trust myself to think of the fruitless pangs he bore,</span> -<span class="i0">My brain grows wild when in my dreams I count his sufferings o’er.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only two left! I thought the worst was surely over then;</span> -<span class="i0">But lo! at once my school-boy sons sprang up before me—men!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -<span class="i0">They heard their brothers’ martyr blood call from the hallowed ground;</span> -<span class="i0">A loud, imperious summons that all other voices drowned.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I did not say a single word. My very heart seemed dead.</span> -<span class="i0">What could I do but take the cup, and bow my weary head</span> -<span class="i0">To drink the bitter draught again? I dared not hold them back;</span> -<span class="i0">I would as soon have tried to check the whirlwind on its track.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You know the rest. At Cedar Creek my Frederick bravely fell;</span> -<span class="i0">They say his young arm did its work right nobly and right well;</span> -<span class="i0">His comrades breathe the hero’s name with mingled love and pride;</span> -<span class="i0">I miss the gentle blue-eyed boy, who frolicked at my side.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For me, I ne’er shall weep again. I think my heart is dead;</span> -<span class="i0">I, who could weep for lighter griefs, have now no tears to shed.</span> -<span class="i0">But read this letter, neighbor. There is nothing to alarm,</span> -<span class="i0">For Harry’s in the hospital, and has only lost an arm!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE DRUMMER BOY’S BURIAL</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day long the storm of battle through the startled valley swept;</span> -<span class="i0">All night long the stars in heaven o’er the slain sad vigils kept.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the ghastly, upturned faces, gleaming whitely through the night!</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, the heaps of mangled corses in that dim, sepulchral light!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One by one the pale stars faded, and at length the morning broke;</span> -<span class="i0">But not one of all the sleepers on that field of death awoke.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slowly passed the golden hours of the long bright summer day,</span> -<span class="i0">And upon the field of carnage still the dead unburied lay;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lay there stark and cold, but pleading with a dumb, unceasing prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">For a little dust to hide them from the staring sun and air.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once again the night dropped round them—night so holy and so calm</span> -<span class="i0">That the moonbeams hushed the spirit, like the sound of prayer or psalm.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On a couch of trampled grasses, just apart from all the rest,</span> -<span class="i0">Lay a fair young boy, with small hands meekly folded on his breast.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Death had touched him very gently, and he lay as if in sleep;</span> -<span class="i0">Even his mother scarce had shuddered at that slumber, calm and deep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For a smile of wondrous sweetness lent a radiance to the face,</span> -<span class="i0">And the hand of cunning sculptor could have added naught of grace</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To the marble limbs so perfect in their passionless repose,</span> -<span class="i0">Robbed of all save matchless purity by hard, unpitying foes.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the broken drum beside him all his life’s short story told;</span> -<span class="i0">How he did his duty bravely till the death-tide o’er him rolled.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Midnight came with ebon garments and a diadem of stars,</span> -<span class="i0">While right upward in the zenith hung the fiery planet Mars.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark! a sound of stealthy footsteps and of voices whispering low—</span> -<span class="i0">Was it nothing but the young leaves, or the brooklet’s murmuring flow?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clinging closely to each other, striving never to look round</span> -<span class="i0">As they passed with silent shudder the pale corses on the ground,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Came two little maidens—sisters—with a light and hasty tread,</span> -<span class="i0">And a look upon their faces, half of sorrow, half of dread.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And they did not pause nor falter till, with throbbing hearts, they stood</span> -<span class="i0">Where the Drummer-Boy was lying in that partial solitude.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They had brought some simple garments from their wardrobe’s scanty store,</span> -<span class="i0">And two heavy iron shovels in their slender hands they bore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then they quickly knelt beside him, crushing back the pitying tears,</span> -<span class="i0">For they had no time for weeping, nor for any girlish fears.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And they robed the icy body, while no glow of maiden shame</span> -<span class="i0">Changed the pallor of their foreheads to a flush of lambent flame.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For their saintly hearts yearned o’er it in that hour of sorest need,</span> -<span class="i0">And they felt that Death was holy and it sanctified the deed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But they smiled and kissed each other when their new, strange task was o’er,</span> -<span class="i0">And the form that lay before them its unwonted garments wore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then with slow and weary labor a small grave they hollowed out,</span> -<span class="i0">And they lined it with the withered grass and leaves that lay about.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the day was slowly breaking ere their holy work was done,</span> -<span class="i0">And in crimson pomp the morning again heralded the sun.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then those little maidens—they were children of our foes—</span> -<span class="i0">Laid the body of our Drummer-Boy to undisturbed repose.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>1865</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O darkest Year! O brightest Year!</span> -<span class="i2">O changeful Year of joy and woe,</span> -<span class="i0">To-day we stand beside thy bier,</span> -<span class="i6">Still loth to let thee go!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We look upon thy brow, and say,</span> -<span class="i2">“How old he is,—how old and worn!”</span> -<span class="i0">Has but a twelvemonth passed away</span> -<span class="i6">Since thou wert newly born?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So long it seems since on the air</span> -<span class="i2">The joy-bells rang to hail thy birth—</span> -<span class="i0">And pale lips strove to call thee fair,</span> -<span class="i6">And sing the songs of mirth!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For dark the heavens that o’er thee hung;</span> -<span class="i2">By stormy winds thy couch was rocked;</span> -<span class="i0">Thy cradle-hymn the Furies sung,</span> -<span class="i6">While sneering Demons mocked!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We held our very breath for dread;</span> -<span class="i2">Shadowed by clouds, that, like a pall,</span> -<span class="i0">Darkened the blue sky overhead,</span> -<span class="i6">And night hung over all.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou wert better than our fears,</span> -<span class="i2">And bade our land’s long anguish cease;</span> -<span class="i0">And gave us, O thou Year of years,</span> -<span class="i6">The costly pearl of Peace!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So dearly bought! By precious blood</span> -<span class="i2">Of patriot heroes—sire and son—</span> -<span class="i0">And that of him, the pure and good,</span> -<span class="i6">Our wearied, martyred One;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who bore for us the heavy load—</span> -<span class="i2">The cross our hands upon him laid;</span> -<span class="i0">Who trod for us the toilsome road</span> -<span class="i6">Meekly, yet undismayed!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And for that gift—although thy graves</span> -<span class="i2">Lie thick beneath December’s snow,</span> -<span class="i0">Though every hamlet mourns its braves,</span> -<span class="i6">And bears its weight of woe—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We bless thee! Yet, O bounteous year,</span> -<span class="i2">For more than Peace we thank thee now,</span> -<span class="i0">As bending o’er thine honored bier,</span> -<span class="i6">We crown thy pallid brow!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We bless thee, though we scarcely dare</span> -<span class="i2">Give to our new-born joy a tongue;</span> -<span class="i0">O mighty Year, upon the air</span> -<span class="i6">Thy voice triumphant rung,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Even in death! and at the sound,</span> -<span class="i2">From myriad limbs the fetters fell</span> -<span class="i0">Into the dim and vast profound,</span> -<span class="i6">While tolled thy passing bell!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell, farewell, thou storied Year!</span> -<span class="i2">Thou wondrous Year of joy and gloom!</span> -<span class="i0">With grateful hearts we crown thee, ere</span> -<span class="i6">We lay thee in thy tomb!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>OUR FLAGS AT THE CAPITOL</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Remove them not! Above our fallen braves</span> -<span class="i2">Nature not yet her perfect work hath wrought;</span> -<span class="i0">Scarce has the turf grown green upon their graves,</span> -<span class="i2">The martyr graves for whose embrace they fought.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wounds of our long conflict are not healed;</span> -<span class="i2">Our land’s fair face is seamed with many a scar;</span> -<span class="i0">And woeful sights, on many a battle-field,</span> -<span class="i2">Show ghastly grim beneath the evening star.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still does the sad Earth tremble with affright,</span> -<span class="i2">Lest she the tread of armèd hosts should feel</span> -<span class="i0">Once more upon her bosom. Still the Night</span> -<span class="i2">Hears, in wild dreams, the cannon’s thundering peal.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still do the black-robed mothers come and go;</span> -<span class="i2">Still do lone wives by dreary hearth-stones weep;</span> -<span class="i0">Still does a Nation, in her pride and woe,</span> -<span class="i2">For her dead sons a mournful vigil keep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, then, awhile delay! Remove ye not</span> -<span class="i2">These drooping banners from their place on high;</span> -<span class="i0">They make of each proud hall a hallowed spot,</span> -<span class="i2">Where Truth must dwell and Freedom cannot die.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now slowly waving in this tranquil air,</span> -<span class="i2">What wondrous eloquence is in their speech!</span> -<span class="i0">No prophet “silver tongued,” no poet rare,</span> -<span class="i2">Even in dreams may hope such heights to reach.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They tell of Life that calmly looked on Death—</span> -<span class="i2">Of peerless valor and of trust sublime—</span> -<span class="i0">Of costly sacrifice, of holiest faith,</span> -<span class="i2">Of lofty hopes that ended not with Time.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! each worn fold is hallowed! set apart</span> -<span class="i2">To minister unto us in our needs—</span> -<span class="i0">To bear henceforth to many a fainting heart,</span> -<span class="i2">The cordial wine of noble thoughts and deeds.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then leave them yet awhile where, day by day,</span> -<span class="i2">The lessons that they teach, your souls may learn;</span> -<span class="i0">So shall ye work for righteousness alway,</span> -<span class="i2">And for its faithful service ever yearn.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now may God bless our land for evermore!</span> -<span class="i2">And from all strife and turmoil grant surcease;</span> -<span class="i0">While from the mountains to the farthest shore</span> -<span class="i2">Accordant voices softly whisper—Peace!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MY MOCKING-BIRD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mocking-bird! mocking-bird! swinging high</span> -<span class="i2">Aloft in your gilded cage,</span> -<span class="i0">The clouds are hurrying over the sky,</span> -<span class="i2">The wild winds fiercely rage.</span> -<span class="i0">But soft and warm is the air you breathe</span> -<span class="i0">Up there with the tremulous ivy wreath,</span> -<span class="i0">And never an icy blast can chill</span> -<span class="i0">The perfumed silence sweet and still.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mocking-bird! mocking-bird! from your throat</span> -<span class="i2">Breaks forth no flood of song,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor even one perfect golden note,</span> -<span class="i2">Triumphant, glad, and strong!</span> -<span class="i0">But now and then a pitiful wail,</span> -<span class="i0">Like the plaintive sigh of the dying gale,</span> -<span class="i0">Comes from that arching breast of thine</span> -<span class="i0">Swinging up there with the ivy-vine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mocking-bird! mocking-bird! well I know</span> -<span class="i2">Your heart is far away,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the golden stars of the jasmine glow,</span> -<span class="i2">And the roses bloom alway!</span> -<span class="i0">For your cradle-nest was softly made</span> -<span class="i0">In the depth of a blossoming myrtle’s shade;</span> -<span class="i0">And you heard the chant of the southern seas</span> -<span class="i0">Borne inland by the favoring breeze.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, ah, my beautiful mocking-bird!</span> -<span class="i2">Should I bear you back again,</span> -<span class="i0">Never would song of yours be heard</span> -<span class="i2">Echoing through the glen.</span> -<span class="i0">For once, ah! once at the dawn of day,</span> -<span class="i0">You waked to the roar of the deadly fray,</span> -<span class="i0">When the terrible clash of armèd foes</span> -<span class="i0">Startled the vale from its dim repose.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At first you sat on a swaying bough,</span> -<span class="i2">Mocking the bugle’s blare,</span> -<span class="i0">Fearless and free in the fervid glow</span> -<span class="i2">Of the heated, sulphurous air.</span> -<span class="i0">Your voice rang out like a trumpet’s note,</span> -<span class="i0">With a martial ring in its upward float,</span> -<span class="i0">And stern men smiled, for you seemed to be</span> -<span class="i0">Cheering them on to victory!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But at length, as the awful day wore on,</span> -<span class="i2">You flew to a tree-top high,</span> -<span class="i0">And sat like a spectre grim and wan,</span> -<span class="i2">Outlined against the sky;</span> -<span class="i0">Sat silently watching the fiery fray</span> -<span class="i0">Till, heaps upon heaps, the Blue and Gray</span> -<span class="i0">Lay together, a silent band,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose souls had passed to the shadowy land.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, my mocking-bird! swinging there</span> -<span class="i2">Under the ivy-vine,</span> -<span class="i0">You still remember the bugle’s blare,</span> -<span class="i2">And the blood poured forth like wine.</span> -<span class="i0">The soul of song in your gentle breast</span> -<span class="i0">Died in that hour of fierce unrest,</span> -<span class="i0">When like a spectre grim and wan,</span> -<span class="i0">You watched to see how the strife went on.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>COMING HOME</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the winter winds were loud,</span> -<span class="i0">And Earth wore a snowy shroud,</span> -<span class="i0">Oft our darling wrote to us,</span> -<span class="i0">And the words ran ever thus—</span> -<span class="i0">“I am coming in the spring!</span> -<span class="i0">With the mayflower’s blossoming,</span> -<span class="i0">With the young leaves on the tree,</span> -<span class="i0">O my dear ones, look for me!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she came. One dreary day,</span> -<span class="i0">When the skies were dull and gray,</span> -<span class="i0">Softly through the open door</span> -<span class="i0">Our belovèd came once more.</span> -<span class="i0">Came with folded hands that lay</span> -<span class="i0">Very quietly alway—</span> -<span class="i0">Came with heavy-lidded eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Lifted not in glad surprise.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not a single word she spoke;</span> -<span class="i0">Laugh nor sigh her silence broke</span> -<span class="i0">As across the quiet room,</span> -<span class="i0">Darkening in the twilight gloom,</span> -<span class="i0">On she passed in stillest guise,</span> -<span class="i0">Calm as saint in Paradise,</span> -<span class="i0">To the spot where—woe betide!—</span> -<span class="i0">Four years since she stood a bride.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, you think, we sprang to greet her—</span> -<span class="i0">Sprang with outstretched hands, to meet her;</span> -<span class="i0">Clasped her in our arms once more,</span> -<span class="i0">As in happy days of yore;</span> -<span class="i0">Poured warm kisses on her cheek,</span> -<span class="i0">Passive lips and forehead meek,</span> -<span class="i0">Till the barrier melted down</span> -<span class="i0">That had thus between us grown.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah no!—Darling, did you know</span> -<span class="i0">When we bent above you so?</span> -<span class="i0">When our tears fell down like rain,</span> -<span class="i0">And our hearts were wild with pain?</span> -<span class="i0">Did you pity us that day,</span> -<span class="i0">Even as holy angels may</span> -<span class="i0">Pity mortals here below,</span> -<span class="i0">While they wonder at their woe?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who can tell us? Word nor sign</span> -<span class="i0">Came from those pale lips of thine;</span> -<span class="i0">Loving hearts and yearning breast</span> -<span class="i0">Lay in coldest, calmest rest.</span> -<span class="i0">Is thy Heaven so very fair</span> -<span class="i0">That thou dost forget us there?</span> -<span class="i0">Speak, belovèd! Woe is me</span> -<span class="i0">That in vain I call on thee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WAKENING EARLY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In loving jest you wrote—“Ah, me!</span> -<span class="i0">My babe’s blue eyes are fair to see;</span> -<span class="i0">And sweet his cooing love-notes be</span> -<span class="i6">That waken me too early!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! would to God, beloved, to-day</span> -<span class="i0">That merry shout or gleeful play</span> -<span class="i0">Might drive your heavy sleep away,</span> -<span class="i6">And bid you waken early.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But vain are all our prayers and cries;</span> -<span class="i0">From your low bed you will not rise;</span> -<span class="i0">No kisses falling on your eyes,</span> -<span class="i6">Can waken you right early.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bright are the skies above your bed,</span> -<span class="i0">And through the elm-boughs overhead</span> -<span class="i0">Are golden sunbeams softly shed,</span> -<span class="i6">That wake you late nor early.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beside you through these summer days</span> -<span class="i0">The murmuring fountain, as it plays,</span> -<span class="i0">Fills the soft air with diamond sprays,</span> -<span class="i6">But does not wake you early!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We bring the flowers you loved so well,</span> -<span class="i0">The pure white rose and lily bell;</span> -<span class="i0">Their sweets break not this fearful spell;</span> -<span class="i6">They do not wake you early!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We sing your songs; we pause to hear</span> -<span class="i0">Your bird-like voice rise full and clear;</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! dull and heavy is your ear;</span> -<span class="i6">We cannot wake you early.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You will not wake? Then may your sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">If it be long, be calm and deep;</span> -<span class="i0">Thank God, the eyes forget to weep</span> -<span class="i6">That do not waken early!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>BLEST <br /><br /><small>Dec. 1865</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sinking to thine eternal rest,</span> -<span class="i0">O dying Year! I call thee blest;</span> -<span class="i0">Blest as no coming year may be</span> -<span class="i0">This side of vast Eternity!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy cheek is pale, thy brow is worn;</span> -<span class="i0">Thine arms are weary, that have borne</span> -<span class="i0">The heaviest burdens ever laid</span> -<span class="i0">On any, since the world was made.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou didst know her whom to-day</span> -<span class="i0">My fond heart mourns, and must alway;</span> -<span class="i0">She loved thee, claimed thee, called thee dear,</span> -<span class="i0">Hailing with joy the glad New Year!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou didst behold her, fair and good,</span> -<span class="i0">The perfect flower of womanhood;</span> -<span class="i0">Simple and pure in thought and deed,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet strong in every hour of need.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! other years shall come and go,</span> -<span class="i0">Bidding the sweet June roses blow;</span> -<span class="i0">But never on their yearning eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Shall her fair presence once arise!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Spring shall miss her, and the long,</span> -<span class="i0">Bright Summer days hear not her song;</span> -<span class="i0">And hoary Winter, draped in snow,</span> -<span class="i0">Finding her not, shall haste to go!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore, Old Year, I call thee blest,</span> -<span class="i0">Thus sinking to eternal rest;</span> -<span class="i0">Blest as no other Year may be</span> -<span class="i0">This side of vast Eternity!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>HELEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear Helen, if thine earnest eyes,</span> -<span class="i2">So deeply blue, so darkly bright,</span> -<span class="i0">Look downward from the azure skies</span> -<span class="i2">That hide thee from my yearning sight:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Think not, because my days go on</span> -<span class="i2">Just as they did when thou wert here,</span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes in shade, sometimes in sun,</span> -<span class="i2">From month to month, from year to year,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That I forget thee! Fresh and green</span> -<span class="i2">Over each grave the grass must grow</span> -<span class="i0">In God’s good time, and, all unseen,</span> -<span class="i2">The violets take deep root below.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yet the grave itself remains</span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the verdure and the bloom;</span> -<span class="i0">And all kind Nature’s loving pains</span> -<span class="i2">Can but conceal the enduring tomb.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I work, I read, I sing, I smile,</span> -<span class="i2">I train my vines and tend my flowers;</span> -<span class="i0">But under thoughts of thee, the while,</span> -<span class="i2">Haunt me through all the passing hours.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still my heart cries out for thee,</span> -<span class="i2">As it must cry till life is past,</span> -<span class="i0">And in some land beyond the sea</span> -<span class="i2">I meet thy clasping hand at last!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> -<hr class="chap" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> -<h2>“PRO PATRIA”</h2> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h3>THE DEAD CENTURY</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Lo! we come</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing the Century, cold and dumb!</span> -<span class="i0">Folded above the mighty breast</span> -<span class="i0">Lie the hands that have earned their rest;</span> -<span class="i0">Hushed are the grandly speaking lips;</span> -<span class="i0">Closed are the eyes in drear eclipse;</span> -<span class="i0">And the sculptured limbs are deathly still,</span> -<span class="i0">Responding not to the eager will,</span> -<span class="i12">As we come</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing the Century, cold and dumb!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Lo! we wait</span> -<span class="i0">Knocking here at the sepulchre’s gate!</span> -<span class="i0">Souls of the ages passed away,</span> -<span class="i0">A mightier joins your ranks to-day;</span> -<span class="i0">Open your doors and give him room,</span> -<span class="i0">Buried Centuries, in your tomb!</span> -<span class="i0">For calmly under this heavy pall</span> -<span class="i0">Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all,</span> -<span class="i12">While we wait</span> -<span class="i0">At the sepulchre’s awful gate!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Yet—pause here,</span> -<span class="i0">Bending low o’er the narrow bier!</span> -<span class="i0">Pause ye awhile and let your thought</span> -<span class="i0">Compass the work that he hath wrought;</span> -<span class="i0">Look on his brow so scarred and worn;</span> -<span class="i0">Think of the weight his hands have borne;</span> -<span class="i0">Think of the fetters he hath broken,</span> -<span class="i0">Of the mighty words <i>his</i> lips have spoken</span> -<span class="i12">Who lies here</span> -<span class="i0">Dead and cold on a narrow bier!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Ere he goes</span> -<span class="i0">Silent and calm to his grand repose—</span> -<span class="i0">While the Centuries in their tomb</span> -<span class="i0">Crowd together to give him room,</span> -<span class="i0">Let us think of the wondrous deeds</span> -<span class="i0">Answering still to the world’s great needs,</span> -<span class="i0">Answering still to the world’s wild prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">He hath been first to do and dare!</span> -<span class="i12">Ah! he goes</span> -<span class="i0">Crowned with bays to his last repose.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">When the earth</span> -<span class="i0">Sang for joy to hail his birth,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the hill-tops, faint and far,</span> -<span class="i0">Glimmered the light of Freedom’s star.</span> -<span class="i0">Only a poor, pale torch it seemed—</span> -<span class="i0">Dimly from out the clouds it gleamed—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Oft to the watcher’s eye ’twas lost</span> -<span class="i0">Like a flame by fierce winds rudely tossed.</span> -<span class="i12">Scarce could Earth</span> -<span class="i0">Catch one ray when she hailed his birth!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">But erelong</span> -<span class="i0">His young voice, like a clarion strong,</span> -<span class="i0">Rang through the wilderness far and free,</span> -<span class="i0">Prophet and herald of good to be!</span> -<span class="i0">Then with a shout the stalwart men</span> -<span class="i0">Answered proudly from mount and glen,</span> -<span class="i0">Till in the brave, new, western world</span> -<span class="i0">Freedom’s banners were wide unfurled!</span> -<span class="i12">And ere long</span> -<span class="i0">The Century’s voice, like a clarion strong,</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Cried, “O Earth,</span> -<span class="i0">Pæans sing for a Nation’s birth!</span> -<span class="i0">Shout hosannas, ye golden stars,</span> -<span class="i0">Peering through yonder cloudy bars!</span> -<span class="i0">Burn, O Sun, with a clearer beam!</span> -<span class="i0">Shine, O Moon, with a softer gleam!</span> -<span class="i0">Join, ye winds, in the choral strain!</span> -<span class="i0">Swell, rolling seas, the glad refrain,</span> -<span class="i12">While the Earth</span> -<span class="i0">Pæans sings for a Nation’s birth!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Ah! he saw—</span> -<span class="i0">This young prophet, with solemn awe—</span> -<span class="i0">How, after weary pain and sin,</span> -<span class="i0">Strivings without and foes within,</span> -<span class="i0">Fruitless prayings and long suspense,</span> -<span class="i0">And toil that bore no recompense—</span> -<span class="i0">After peril and blood and tears,</span> -<span class="i0">Honor and Peace should crown the years!</span> -<span class="i12">This he saw</span> -<span class="i0">While his heart thrilled with solemn awe.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">His clear eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Gazing forward in glad surprise,</span> -<span class="i0">Saw how our land at last should be</span> -<span class="i0">Truly the home of the brave and free!</span> -<span class="i0">Saw from the old world’s crowded streets,</span> -<span class="i0">Pestilent cities, and close retreats,</span> -<span class="i0">Forms gaunt and pallid with famine sore</span> -<span class="i0">Flee in hot haste to our happy shore,</span> -<span class="i12">Their sad eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Widening ever in new surprise.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">From all lands</span> -<span class="i0">Thronging they come in eager bands;</span> -<span class="i0">Each with the tongue his mother spoke;</span> -<span class="i0">Each with the songs her voice awoke;</span> -<span class="i0">Each with his dominant hopes and needs,</span> -<span class="i0">Alien habits and varying creeds.</span> -<span class="i0">Bringing strange fictions and fancies they came,</span> -<span class="i0">Calling old truths by a different name,</span> -<span class="i12">When the lands</span> -<span class="i0">Sent their sons hither in thronging bands.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">But the Seer—</span> -<span class="i0">This dead Century lying here—</span> -<span class="i0">Rising out of this chaos, saw</span> -<span class="i0">Peace and Order and Love and Law!</span> -<span class="i0">Saw by what subtle alchemy</span> -<span class="i0">Basest of metals at length should be</span> -<span class="i0">Transmuted into the shining gold,</span> -<span class="i0">Meet for a king to have and hold.</span> -<span class="i12">Ah! great Seer!</span> -<span class="i0">This pale Century lying here!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">So he taught</span> -<span class="i0">Honest freedom of speech and thought;</span> -<span class="i0">Taught that Truth is the grandest thing</span> -<span class="i0">Painter can paint, or poet sing;</span> -<span class="i0">Taught that under the meanest guise</span> -<span class="i0">It marches to deeds of high emprise;</span> -<span class="i0">Treading the paths the prophets trod</span> -<span class="i0">Up to the very mount of God!</span> -<span class="i12">Truth, he taught,</span> -<span class="i0">Claims full freedom of speech and thought.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Bearing long</span> -<span class="i0">Heavy burdens of hate and wrong,</span> -<span class="i0">Still has the arm of the Century been</span> -<span class="i0">Waging war against crime and sin.</span> -<span class="i0">Still has he plead humanity’s cause;</span> -<span class="i0">Still has he prayed for equal laws;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Still has he taught that the human race</span> -<span class="i0">Is one in despite of hue or place,</span> -<span class="i12">Even though long</span> -<span class="i0">It has wrestled with hate and wrong.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">And at length—</span> -<span class="i0">A giant arising in his strength—</span> -<span class="i0">The fetters of serf and slave he broke,</span> -<span class="i0">Smiting them off by a single stroke!</span> -<span class="i0">Over the Muscovite’s waste of snows,</span> -<span class="i0">Up from the fields where the cotton grows,</span> -<span class="i0">Clearly the shout of deliverance rang,</span> -<span class="i0">When chattel and serf to manhood sprang,</span> -<span class="i12">As at length</span> -<span class="i0">The giant rose up in resistless strength.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Far apart—</span> -<span class="i0">Each alone like a lonely heart—</span> -<span class="i0">Sat the Nations, until his hand</span> -<span class="i0">Wove about them a wondrous band;</span> -<span class="i0">Wrought about them a mighty chain</span> -<span class="i0">Binding the mountains to the main!</span> -<span class="i0">Distance and time rose dark between</span> -<span class="i0">Islands and continents still unseen,</span> -<span class="i12">While apart</span> -<span class="i0">None felt the throb of another’s heart.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XVI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">But to-day</span> -<span class="i0">Time and space hath he swept away!</span> -<span class="i0">Side by side do the Nations sit</span> -<span class="i0">By ties of brotherhood closer knit;</span> -<span class="i0">Whispers float o’er the rolling deep;</span> -<span class="i0">Voices echo from steep to steep;</span> -<span class="i0">Nations speak, and the quick replies</span> -<span class="i0">Fill the earth and the vaulted skies;</span> -<span class="i12">For to-day</span> -<span class="i0">Time and distance are swept away.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XVII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">If strange thrills</span> -<span class="i0">Quicken Rome on her seven hills;</span> -<span class="i0">If afar on her sultry throne</span> -<span class="i0">India wails and makes her moan;</span> -<span class="i0">If the eagles of haughty France</span> -<span class="i0">Fall as the Prussian hosts advance,</span> -<span class="i0">All the continents, all the lands,</span> -<span class="i0">Feel the shock through their claspèd hands.</span> -<span class="i12">And quick thrills</span> -<span class="i0">Stir the remotest vales and hills.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XVIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Yet these eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Dark on whose lids Death’s shadow lies,</span> -<span class="i0">Let their far-reaching vision rest</span> -<span class="i0">Not alone on the mountain’s crest;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor did these feet with stately tread</span> -<span class="i0">Follow alone where the Nations led;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor these pale hands, so weary-worn,</span> -<span class="i0">Minister but where States were born!—</span> -<span class="i12">These clear eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Soft on whose lips Death’s slumber lies,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XIX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Turned their gaze,</span> -<span class="i0">Earnest and pitiful, on the ways</span> -<span class="i0">Where the poor, burdened sons of toil</span> -<span class="i0">Earned their bread amid dust and moil.</span> -<span class="i0">Saw the dim attics where, day by day,</span> -<span class="i0">Women were stitching their lives away,</span> -<span class="i0">Bending low o’er the slender steel</span> -<span class="i0">Till heart and brain began to reel,</span> -<span class="i12">And their days</span> -<span class="i0">Stretched on and on in a dreary maze.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Then he spoke;</span> -<span class="i0">Lo! at once into being woke</span> -<span class="i0">Muscles of iron, arms of steel,</span> -<span class="i0">Nerves that never a thrill could feel!</span> -<span class="i0">Wheels and pulleys and whirling bands</span> -<span class="i0">Did the work of the weary hands,</span> -<span class="i0">And tireless feet moved to and fro</span> -<span class="i0">Where the aching limbs were wont to go,</span> -<span class="i12">When he spoke</span> -<span class="i0">And all his sprites into being woke.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XXI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Do you say</span> -<span class="i0">He was no saint who has passed away?</span> -<span class="i0">Saint or sinner, he did brave deeds</span> -<span class="i0">Answering still to humanity’s needs!</span> -<span class="i0">Songs he hath sung that shall live for aye;</span> -<span class="i0">Words he hath uttered that ne’er shall die;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Richer the world than when the earth</span> -<span class="i0">Sang for joy to hail his birth,</span> -<span class="i12">Even though you say</span> -<span class="i0">He was no saint whom we sing to-day.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XXII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Lo! we wait</span> -<span class="i0">Knocking here at the sepulchre’s gate!</span> -<span class="i0">Souls of the Ages passed away,</span> -<span class="i0">A mightier joins your ranks to-day;</span> -<span class="i0">Open your doors, ye royal dead,</span> -<span class="i0">And welcome give to this crownèd head!</span> -<span class="i0">For calmly under this sable pall</span> -<span class="i0">Sleepeth the kingliest of ye all,</span> -<span class="i12">While we wait</span> -<span class="i0">At the sepulchre’s awful gate!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XXIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12">Give him room</span> -<span class="i0">Proudly, Centuries! in your tomb.</span> -<span class="i0">Now that his weary work is done,</span> -<span class="i0">Honor and rest he well hath won.</span> -<span class="i0">Let him who is first among you pay</span> -<span class="i0">Homage to him who comes this day,</span> -<span class="i0">Bidding him pass to his destined place,</span> -<span class="i0">Noblest of all his noble race!</span> -<span class="i12">Make ye room</span> -<span class="i0">For the kingly dead in the silent tomb!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE RIVER OTTER<br /><br /><small>A FRAGMENT</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A hundred times the Summer’s fragrant blooms</span> -<span class="i0">Have laden all the air with sweet perfumes;</span> -<span class="i0">A hundred times, along the mountain-side,</span> -<span class="i0">Autumn has flung his crimson banners wide;</span> -<span class="i0">A hundred times has kindly Winter spread</span> -<span class="i0">His snowy mantle o’er the violet’s bed;</span> -<span class="i0">A hundred times has Earth rejoiced to hear</span> -<span class="i0">The Spring’s light footsteps in the forest sere,</span> -<span class="i0">Since on yon grassy knoll the quick, sharp stroke</span> -<span class="i0">Of the young woodman’s axe the silence broke.</span> -<span class="i0">Not then did these encircling hills look down</span> -<span class="i0">On quaint old farmhouse, or on steepled town.</span> -<span class="i0">No church-spires pointed to the arching skies;</span> -<span class="i0">No wandering lovers saw the moon arise;</span> -<span class="i0">No childish laughter mingled with the song</span> -<span class="i0">Of the fair Otter, as it flowed along</span> -<span class="i0">As brightly then as now. Ah! little recked</span> -<span class="i0">The joyous river, when the sunshine flecked</span> -<span class="i0">Its dancing waters, that no human eye</span> -<span class="i0">Gave it glad welcome as it frolicked by!</span> -<span class="i0">The long, uncounted years had come and flown,</span> -<span class="i0">And it had still swept on, unseen, unknown,</span> -<span class="i0">Biding its time. No minstrel sang its praise,</span> -<span class="i0">No poet named it in immortal lays.</span> -<span class="i0">It played no part in legendary lore,</span> -<span class="i0">And young Romance knew not its winding shore.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> -<span class="i0">But in her own loveliness Nature is glad,</span> -<span class="i2">And little she cares for man’s smile or his frown;</span> -<span class="i0">In the robes of her royalty still she is clad,</span> -<span class="i2">Though his eye may behold not her sceptre or crown!</span> -<span class="i0">And over our beautiful Otter the trees</span> -<span class="i0">Swayed lightly as now in the frolicsome breeze;</span> -<span class="i0">And the tremulous violet lifted an eye</span> -<span class="i0">As blue as its own to the laughing blue sky.</span> -<span class="i4">The harebell trembled on its stem</span> -<span class="i6">Down where the rushing waters gleam,</span> -<span class="i4">A sapphire on the broidered hem</span> -<span class="i6">Of some fair Naiad of the stream.</span> -<span class="i4">The buttercups, bright-eyed and bold,</span> -<span class="i4">Held up their chalices of gold</span> -<span class="i4">To catch the sunshine and the dew,</span> -<span class="i4">Gayly as those that bloom for you.</span> -<span class="i4">And deep within the forest shade,</span> -<span class="i4">Where broadest noon mere twilight made,</span> -<span class="i4">Ten thousand small, sweet censers swung,</span> -<span class="i4">And tiny bells by zephyrs rung,</span> -<span class="i4">Made tinkling music till the day</span> -<span class="i4">In solemn splendor died away.</span> -<span class="i4">The woods were full of praise and prayer,</span> -<span class="i4">Although no human tongue was there;</span> -<span class="i4">For every pine and hemlock sung</span> -<span class="i4">The grand cathedral aisles among,</span> -<span class="i4">And every flower that gemmed the sod</span> -<span class="i4">Looked up and whispered, “Thou art God.”</span> -<span class="i4">The birds sung as they sing to-day,</span> -<span class="i4">A song of love and joy alway.</span> -<span class="i4">The brown thrush from its golden throat</span> -<span class="i4">Poured out its long, melodious note;</span> -<span class="i4">The pigeons cooed; the veery threw</span> -<span class="i4">Its mellow thrill from spray to spray;</span> -<span class="i4">The wild night-hawk its trumpet blew,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> -<span class="i4">And the owl cried, “Tu whit, tu whoo,”</span> -<span class="i4">From set of sun to break of day.</span> -<span class="i4">The partridge reared her fearless brood</span> -<span class="i4">Safe in the darkling solitude,</span> -<span class="i4">And the bald eagle built its nest</span> -<span class="i4">High on the tall cliff’s craggy crest.</span> -<span class="i4">And often, when the still moonlight</span> -<span class="i4">Made all the lonely valley bright,</span> -<span class="i4">Down from the hills its thirst to slake,</span> -<span class="i4">The deer trod softly through the brake;</span> -<span class="i4">While far away the spotted fawn</span> -<span class="i4">Waited the coming of the dawn,</span> -<span class="i4">And trembled when the panther’s scream</span> -<span class="i4">Startled it from a troubled dream.</span> -<span class="i4">The black bear roamed the forest wide;</span> -<span class="i4">The fierce wolf tracked the mountain-side;</span> -<span class="i4">The wild-cat’s silent, stealthy tread</span> -<span class="i4">Was, even there, a fear and dread;</span> -<span class="i4">The red fox barked—a strange, weird sound,</span> -<span class="i4">That woke the slumbering echoes round;</span> -<span class="i4">And the burrowing mink and otter hid</span> -<span class="i4">In their holes the tangled roots amid.</span> -<span class="i4">Lords of their limitless domain,</span> -<span class="i4">Of hill and dale, of mount and plain,</span> -<span class="i4">The wild things dreamed not of the hour</span> -<span class="i4">When they should own their Master’s power!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>PAST AND PRESENT<br /><br />(<small><span class="smcap">Driftwood</span></small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">. . . Grand, heroic, true,</span> -<span class="i0">Faithful and brave thine earnest work to do,</span> -<span class="i0">O glorious present! we rejoice in thee,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou noble nurse of great deeds yet to be!</span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou not shown us that our mother Earth</span> -<span class="i0">Still, in exultant joy, gives heroes birth?</span> -<span class="i0">Do not the old romances that our youth,</span> -<span class="i0">Revered and honored as the truest truth,</span> -<span class="i0">Grow pale and dim before the facts sublime</span> -<span class="i0">Thy pen has written on the scroll of Time?</span> -<span class="i6">Ah! never yet did poet’s tongue,</span> -<span class="i6">Though like a silver bell it rung;</span> -<span class="i6">Or minstrel, o’er his sounding lyre</span> -<span class="i6">Breathing the old, prophetic fire;</span> -<span class="i6">Or harper, in the storied walls</span> -<span class="i6">Of Scotia’s proud, baronial halls—</span> -<span class="i6">Where mail-clad men with sword and spear</span> -<span class="i6">Waited entranced the song to hear,</span> -<span class="i6">That through the stormy midnight hour</span> -<span class="i6">Fast held them in its spell of power—</span> -<span class="i6">Ah! never yet did they rehearse,</span> -<span class="i6">In flowing rhyme or stately verse,</span> -<span class="i6">The praise of deeds more nobly done,</span> -<span class="i6">Or tell of fields more grandly won!</span> -<span class="i0">We laud thee, we praise thee, we bless thee to-day!</span> -<span class="i0">At thy feet, lowly bending, glad homage we pay!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast taught us that men are as brave as of yore;</span> -<span class="i0">That the day of great deeds and great thought is not o’er;</span> -<span class="i0">That the courage undaunted, the far-reaching faith,</span> -<span class="i0">The strength that unshaken looks calmly on death,</span> -<span class="i0">The self-abnegation that hastens to lay</span> -<span class="i0">Its all on the altar, have not passed away.</span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast taught us that “country” is more than a name;</span> -<span class="i0">That honor unsullied is better than fame;</span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast proved that while man can still battle for truth,</span> -<span class="i0">Even boyhood can give up the promise of youth,</span> -<span class="i0">And, yielding its life with a smile and a sigh,</span> -<span class="i0">Say, “’Tis sweet for my God and my country to die.”</span> -<span class="i0">O heart-searching Present, thy sons have gone down</span> -<span class="i0">To the night of the grave in their day of renown!</span> -<span class="i0">Thy daughters have watched by the hearth-stone in vain</span> -<span class="i0">For the loved and the lost that returned not again.</span> -<span class="i0">No Spartans were they—yet with tears falling fast,</span> -<span class="i0">Their faith and their patience endured to the last;</span> -<span class="i0">And God gave them strength to their dearest to say,</span> -<span class="i0">“Go ye forth to the fight, while we labor and pray!”</span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast opened thy coffers on land and on sea,</span> -<span class="i0">And broad-handed Charity, noble and free,</span> -<span class="i0">Has lavished thy bounties on friend and on foe,</span> -<span class="i0">Like the rain that, descending, falls softly and slow</span> -<span class="i0">On the just and the unjust, and never may know</span> -<span class="i0">The one from the other. When thy story is told</span> -<span class="i0">By some age that looks backward and calls thee “the old,”</span> -<span class="i0">It shall puzzle its sages, all great as thou art,</span> -<span class="i0">To tell which was greatest, thy head or thy heart!</span> -<span class="i12">Mighty words thy lips have spoken—</span> -<span class="i12">Strongest fetters thou hast broken—</span> -<span class="i12">And in tones like those of thunder,</span> -<span class="i12">When the clouds are rent asunder,</span> -<span class="i12">Thou hast made the Nations hear thee—</span> -<span class="i12">Thou hast bade the Tyrants fear thee—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> -<span class="i12">And our hearts to-day proclaim thee,</span> -<span class="i14">As they oft have done before,</span> -<span class="i12">Fit to lead the glorious legions</span> -<span class="i14">Of the glorious days of yore!</span> -<span class="i12">Yet still, we pray thee, veil awhile</span> -<span class="i14">Thy splendor from our dazzled eyes</span> -<span class="i12">And hide the glory of thy smile,</span> -<span class="i14">Lest our souls wake to new surprise!</span> -<span class="i12">Bear with us while our feet to-day</span> -<span class="i12">Retrace a dim and shadowy way,</span> -<span class="i12">In search of what, it well may be,</span> -<span class="i12">Shall help to make us worthier thee!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now, O, spirit of the Past, draw near,</span> -<span class="i0">And let us feel thy blessed presence here!</span> -<span class="i0">With reverent hearts and voices hushed and low,</span> -<span class="i0">We wait to hear thy garments’ rustling flow!</span> -<span class="i0">From all the conflicts of our busy life,</span> -<span class="i0">From all its bitter and enduring strife,</span> -<span class="i0">Its eager yearnings and its wild turmoil,</span> -<span class="i0">Its cares, its joys, its sorrows and its toil,</span> -<span class="i0">Its aspirations, that too often seem</span> -<span class="i0">Like the remembered phantoms of a dream,</span> -<span class="i0">We turn aside. This hour is thine alone,</span> -<span class="i0">And none shall share the grandeur of thy throne.</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! thou art here! Beneath these whispering trees</span> -<span class="i0">Thy breath floats softly on the passing breeze;</span> -<span class="i0">We feel the presence that we cannot see,</span> -<span class="i0">And every moment draws us nearer thee.</span> -<span class="i0">Could we but see thee with thy solemn eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">In whose rare depths such wondrous meaning lies—</span> -<span class="i0">Thy dark robes sweeping this enchanted ground—</span> -<span class="i0">Thy midnight hair with purple pansies crowned—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Thy lip so sadly sweet, thy brow serene!</span> -<span class="i0">There is no expectation in thy mien,</span> -<span class="i0">For thou hast done with dreams. Nor joy nor pain</span> -<span class="i0">Can e’er disturb thy placid calm again.</span> -<span class="i0">What is this veil that hides thee from our sight?</span> -<span class="i0">Breathe it away, thou spirit darkly bright!</span> -<span class="i6">It may not be! Our eyes are dim,</span> -<span class="i8">Perhaps with age, perhaps with tears;</span> -<span class="i6">We hear no more the choral hymn</span> -<span class="i8">The angels sing among the spheres.</span> -<span class="i6">Weary and worn and tempest-tossed,</span> -<span class="i6">Much have we gained—and something lost—</span> -<span class="i6">Since in the sunbeams golden glow,</span> -<span class="i6">The rippling river’s silvery flow,</span> -<span class="i6">The song of bird or murmuring bee,</span> -<span class="i6">The fragrant flower, the stately tree,</span> -<span class="i6">The royal pomp of sunset skies,</span> -<span class="i6">And all earth’s varied harmonies,</span> -<span class="i6">We saw and heard what nevermore</span> -<span class="i6">Can Earth or Heaven to us restore,</span> -<span class="i6">And felt a child’s unquestioning faith</span> -<span class="i8">In childhood’s mystic lore!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Yet could our voices reach the slumbering dead</span> -<span class="i6">Who rest so calmly in yon grass-grown bed,</span> -<span class="i6">This truth would seem with greatest wonder fraught—</span> -<span class="i6"><i>That they are heroes to our eyes and thought</i>.</span> -<span class="i6">For they were men who never dreamed of fame:</span> -<span class="i6">They did not toil to make themselves a name;</span> -<span class="i6">They little fancied that when years had passed,</span> -<span class="i6">And the long century had died at last,</span> -<span class="i6">Another age should make their graves a shrine,</span> -<span class="i6">And humble chaplets for their memory twine.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> -<span class="i6">They simply strove, as other men may strive,</span> -<span class="i6">Full, earnest lives in sober strength to live;</span> -<span class="i6">They did the duty nearest to their hand;</span> -<span class="i6">Subdued wild nature as at God’s command;</span> -<span class="i6">Laid the broad acres open to the sun,</span> -<span class="i6">And made fair homes in forests dark and dun;</span> -<span class="i6">Built churches, founded schools, established laws,</span> -<span class="i6">Kindly and just and true to freedom’s cause;</span> -<span class="i6">Resisted wrong, and with stout hands and hearts,</span> -<span class="i6">In war, as well as peace, played well their parts.</span> -<span class="i6">Their men were brave; their women pure and true;</span> -<span class="i6">Their sons ashamed no honest work to do;</span> -<span class="i6">And while they dreamed no dreams of being great,</span> -<span class="i6">They did great deeds, and conquered hostile Fate.</span> -<span class="i0">We laud them, we praise them, we bless them to-day;</span> -<span class="i0">At their graves, as their right, tearful homage we pay!</span> -<span class="i0">And the laurel-crowned Present comes humbly at last,</span> -<span class="i0">And bends by our side at the shrine of the Past.</span> -<span class="i0">With the hands that such burdens unshrinking have borne,</span> -<span class="i0">From the brow weary cares have so furrowed and worn,</span> -<span class="i0">She takes off the chaplet, and lays it with tears,</span> -<span class="i0">That she cares not to hide, at the feet of the Years.</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! a breath of faint music, a murmur of song!</span> -<span class="i0">A form of strange beauty is floating along</span> -<span class="i0">On the soft summer air, and the Future draws near,</span> -<span class="i0">With a light on her young face, unshadowed and clear.</span> -<span class="i0">Two garlands she bears in the arms that not yet</span> -<span class="i0">Have toiled ’neath the burden and heat of the day;</span> -<span class="i0">Lo! both are of amaranth, fragrant and wet</span> -<span class="i0">With the dew of remembrance, and fadeless alway.</span> -<span class="i0">Oh! well may we hush our vain babblings—and wait!</span> -<span class="i0">He who merits the crown, wears it sooner or late!</span> -<span class="i0">On the brow of the Present, the grave of the Past,</span> -<span class="i0">The wreaths they have earned shall rest surely at last!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>VERMONT<br /><br />(<small>WRITTEN FOR THE VERMONT CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION,<br /> -AT BENNINGTON, AUGUST 15, 1877</small>.)</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O woman-form, majestic, strong and fair,</span> -<span class="i0">Sitting enthroned where in upper air</span> -<span class="i0">Thy mountain-peaks in solemn grandeur rise,</span> -<span class="i0">Piercing the splendor of the summer skies—</span> -<span class="i0">Vermont! Our mighty mother, crowned to-day</span> -<span class="i0">In all the glory of thy hundred years,</span> -<span class="i0">If thou dost bid me sing, how can I but obey?</span> -<span class="i0">What though the lips may tremble, and the verse</span> -<span class="i0">That fain would grandly thy grand deeds rehearse</span> -<span class="i0">May trip and falter, and the stammering tongue</span> -<span class="i0">Leave all unrhymed the rhymes that should be sung?</span> -<span class="i0">I can but do thy bidding, as is meet,</span> -<span class="i0">Bowing in humble homage at thy feet—</span> -<span class="i0">Thy royal feet—and if my words are weak,</span> -<span class="i0">O crownèd One, ’twas thou didst bid me speak!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Yet what is there to say,</span> -<span class="i8">Even on this proud day,</span> -<span class="i4">This day of days, that hath not oft been said?</span> -<span class="i8">What song is there to sing</span> -<span class="i10">That hath not oft been sung?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> -<span class="i8">What laurel can we bring</span> -<span class="i10">That ages have not hung</span> -<span class="i0">A thousand times above their glorious dead?</span> -<span class="i8">What crown to crown the living</span> -<span class="i8">Is left us for our giving,</span> -<span class="i8">That is not shaped to other brows</span> -<span class="i10">That wore it long ago?</span> -<span class="i8">Our very vows but echo vows</span> -<span class="i10">Breathed centuries ago!</span> -<span class="i8">Earth has no choral strain,</span> -<span class="i8">No sweet or sad refrain,</span> -<span class="i0">No lofty pæan swelling loud and clear,</span> -<span class="i8">That Virgil did not know,</span> -<span class="i8">Or Danté, wandering slow</span> -<span class="i0">In mystic trances, did not pause to hear!</span> -<span class="i2">When gods from high Olympus came</span> -<span class="i2">To touch old Homer’s lips with flame,</span> -<span class="i2">The morning stars together sung</span> -<span class="i2">To teach their raptures to his tongue.</span> -<span class="i2">For him the lonely ocean moaned;</span> -<span class="i2">For him the mighty winds intoned</span> -<span class="i2">Their deep-voiced chantings, and for him</span> -<span class="i2">Sweet flower-bells pealed in forests dim.</span> -<span class="i2">From earth and sea and sky he caught</span> -<span class="i2">The spell of their divinest thought,</span> -<span class="i2">While yet it blossomed fresh and new</span> -<span class="i2">As Eden’s rosebuds wet with dew!</span> -<span class="i2">Oh! to have lived when earth was young,</span> -<span class="i2">With all its melodies unsung!</span> -<span class="i2">The dome of heaven bent nearer then</span> -<span class="i2">When gods and angels talked with men—</span> -<span class="i2">When Song itself was newly born,</span> -<span class="i2">The Incarnation of the Morn!</span> -<span class="i2">But now, alas! all thought is old,</span> -<span class="i2">All life is but a story told,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> -<span class="i2">And poet-tongues are manifold;</span> -<span class="i2">And he is bold who tries to wake,</span> -<span class="i2">Even for God or Country’s sake,</span> -<span class="i2">In voice, or pen, or lute, or lyre,</span> -<span class="i2">Sparks of the old Promethean fire!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet—O Earth, thank God!—the soul of song</span> -<span class="i2">Is as immortal as the eternal stars!</span> -<span class="i0">O trembling heart! take courage and be strong.</span> -<span class="i2">Hark! to a voice from yonder crystal bars:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><i>“Did the roses blow last June?</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Do the stars still rise and set?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And over the crests of the mountains</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Are the light clouds floating yet?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Do the rivers run to the sea</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>With a deep, resistless flow?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Do the little birds sing north and south</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>As the seasons come and go?</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><i>Are the hills as fair as of old?</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Are the skies as blue and far?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Have you lost the pomp of the sunset,</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Or the light of the evening star?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Has the glory gone from the morning?</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Do the wild winds wail no more?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Is there now no thunder of billows</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Beating the storm-lashed shore?</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><i>Is Love a forgotten story?</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Is Passion a jester’s theme?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Has Valor thrown down its armor?</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Is Honor an idle dream?</i></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Is there no pure trust in woman?</i></span> -<span class="i7"><i>No conquering faith in God?</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Are there no feet strong to follow</i></span> -<span class="i7"><i>In the paths the martyrs trod?</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><i>Did you find no hero graves</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>When your violets bloomed last May—</i></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Prouder than those of Marathon,</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Or ‘old Platea’s day’?</i></span> -<span class="i4"><i>When your red and white and blue</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>On the free winds fluttered out,</i></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Were there no strong hearts and voices</i></span> -<span class="i6"><i>To receive it with a shout?</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Oh! let the Earth grow old!</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>And the burning stars grow cold!</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And, if you will, declare man’s story told!</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Yet, pure as faith is pure,</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>And sure as death is sure,</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>As long as love shall live, shall song endure!</i>”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When, one by one, the stately, silent Years</span> -<span class="i0">Glide like pale ghosts beyond our yearning sight,</span> -<span class="i0">Vainly we stretch our arms to stay their flight,</span> -<span class="i0">So soon, so swift they pass to endless night!</span> -<span class="i8">We hardly learn to name them,</span> -<span class="i8">To praise them or to blame them,</span> -<span class="i8">To know their shadowy faces,</span> -<span class="i8">Ere we see their empty places!</span> -<span class="i8">Only once the glad Spring greets them;</span> -<span class="i8">Only once fair Summer meets them;</span> -<span class="i8">Only once the Autumn glory</span> -<span class="i8">Tells for them its mystic story;</span> -<span class="i8">Only once the Winter hoary</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> -<span class="i4">Weaves for them its robes of light!</span> -<span class="i4">Years leave their work half-done; like men, alas!</span> -<span class="i4">With sheaves ungathered to their graves they pass,</span> -<span class="i4">And are forgotten. What they strive to do</span> -<span class="i4">Lives for a while in memory of a few;</span> -<span class="i4">Then over all Oblivion’s waters flow—</span> -<span class="i4">The Years are buried in the long ago!</span> -<span class="i0">But when a Century dies, what room is there for tears?</span> -<span class="i0">Rather in solemn exaltation let us come,</span> -<span class="i8">With roll of drum</span> -<span class="i8">(Not muffled as in woe),</span> -<span class="i4">With blare of bugles, and the liquid flow</span> -<span class="i4">Of silver clarions, and the long appeal</span> -<span class="i4">Of the clear trumpets ringing peal on peal;</span> -<span class="i4">With clash of bells, and hosts in proud array,</span> -<span class="i4">To pay meet homage to its burial day!</span> -<span class="i4">For its proud work is done. Its name is writ</span> -<span class="i4">Where all the ages that come after it</span> -<span class="i4">Shall read the eternal letters, blazoned high</span> -<span class="i4">On the blue dome of the impartial sky.</span> -<span class="i4">What ruthless fate can darken its renown,</span> -<span class="i4">Or dim the lustre of its starry crown?</span> -<span class="i0">On mountain-peaks of Time each Century stands alone;</span> -<span class="i0">And each, for glory or for shame, hath reaped what it hath sown!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">But this—the one that gave thee birth</span> -<span class="i0">A hundred years ago, O beauteous mother!</span> -<span class="i0">This mighty Century had a mightier brother,</span> -<span class="i8">Who from the watching earth</span> -<span class="i0">Passed but last year! Twin-born indeed were they—</span> -<span class="i0">For what are twelve months to the womb of time</span> -<span class="i0">Pregnant with ages?—Hand in hand they climbed</span> -<span class="i0">With clear, young eyes uplifted to the stars;</span> -<span class="i0">With great, strong souls that never stopped for bars, -</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Through storm and darkness up to glorious day!</span> -<span class="i0">Each knew the other’s need; each in his breast</span> -<span class="i0">The subtle tie of closest kin confessed;</span> -<span class="i0">Counted the other’s honor as his own;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor feared to sit upon a separate throne;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor loved each other less when—wondrous fate!—</span> -<span class="i0">One gave a Nation life, and one a State!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! rude the cradle in which each was rocked,</span> -<span class="i0">The infant Nation, and the infant State!</span> -<span class="i0">Rough nurses were the Centuries, that mocked</span> -<span class="i0">At mother-kisses, and for mother-arms</span> -<span class="i0">Gave their young nurslings sudden harsh alarms,</span> -<span class="i0">Quick blows and stern rebuffs. They bade them wait,</span> -<span class="i0">Often in cold and hunger, while the feast</span> -<span class="i0">Was spread for others, and, though last not least,</span> -<span class="i0">Gave them sharp swords for playthings, and the din</span> -<span class="i0">Of actual battle for the mimic strife</span> -<span class="i8">That childhood glories in!</span> -<span class="i0">Yet not the less they loved them. Spartans they,</span> -<span class="i0">Who could not rear a weak, effeminate brood.</span> -<span class="i0">Better the forest’s awful solitude,</span> -<span class="i0">Better the desert spaces, where the day</span> -<span class="i0">Wanders from dawn to dusk and finds no life!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But over all the tireless years swept on,</span> -<span class="i4">Till side by side the Centuries grew old,</span> -<span class="i4">And the young Nation, great and strong and bold,</span> -<span class="i0">Forgot its early struggles, in triumphs later won!</span> -<span class="i4">It stretched its arms from East to West;</span> -<span class="i4">It gathered to its mighty breast</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> -<span class="i4">From every clime, from every soil,</span> -<span class="i4">The hunted sons of want and toil;</span> -<span class="i4">It gave to each a dwelling-place;</span> -<span class="i4">It blent them in one common race;</span> -<span class="i4">And over all, from sea to sea,</span> -<span class="i4">Wide flew the banner of the free!</span> -<span class="i4">It did not fear the wrath of kings,</span> -<span class="i4">Nor the dread grip of deadlier things—</span> -<span class="i4">Gaunt Famine with its ghastly horde,</span> -<span class="i4">Dishonor sheathing its foul sword,</span> -<span class="i4">Nor faithless friend, nor treacherous blow</span> -<span class="i4">Struck in the dark by stealthy foe;</span> -<span class="i4">For over all its wide domain,</span> -<span class="i4">From shore to shore, from main to main,</span> -<span class="i4">From vale to mountain-top, it saw</span> -<span class="i4">The reign of plenty, peace, and law!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Thus fared the Nation, prosperous, great, and free,</span> -<span class="i4">Prophet and herald of the good to be;</span> -<span class="i4">And on its humbler way, in calm content,</span> -<span class="i4">The lesser State, the while, serenely went.</span> -<span class="i4">Safe in her mountain fastnesses she dwelt,</span> -<span class="i4">Her life’s first cares forgot, its woes unfelt,</span> -<span class="i4">And thought her bitterest tears had all been shed,</span> -<span class="i0">For peace was in her borders, and God reigned overhead.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>IX.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But suddenly over the hills there came</span> -<span class="i0">A cry that rent her with grief and shame—</span> -<span class="i0">A cry from the Nation in sore distress,</span> -<span class="i0">Stricken down in the pride of its mightiness!</span> -<span class="i0">With passionate ardor up she sprang,</span> -<span class="i0">And her voice like the peal of a trumpet rang— -</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> -<span class="i0">“What ho! what ho! brave sons of mine,</span> -<span class="i0">Strong with the strength of the mountain pine!</span> -<span class="i0">To the front of the battle, away! away!</span> -<span class="i0">The Nation is bleeding in deadly fray,</span> -<span class="i0">The Nation, it may be, is dying to-day!</span> -<span class="i0">On, then, to the rescue! away! away!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>X.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Ah! how they answered let the ages tell,</span> -<span class="i4">For they shall guard the sacred story well!</span> -<span class="i4">Green grows the grass to-day on many a battle-field;</span> -<span class="i4">War’s dread alarms are o’er; its scars are healed;</span> -<span class="i4">Its bitter agony has found surcease;</span> -<span class="i4">A re-united land clasps hands in peace.</span> -<span class="i4">But, oh! ye blessed dead, whose graves are strown</span> -<span class="i4">From where our forests make perpetual moan,</span> -<span class="i4">To those far shores where smiling Southern seas</span> -<span class="i4">Give back soft murmurs to the fragrant breeze—</span> -<span class="i4">Oh! ye who drained for us the bitter cup,</span> -<span class="i0">Think ye we can forget what ye have offered up?</span> -<span class="i0">The years will come and go, and other centuries die,</span> -<span class="i0">And generation after generation lie</span> -<span class="i4">Down in the dust; but, long as stars shall shine,</span> -<span class="i4">Long as Vermont’s green hills shall bear the pine,</span> -<span class="i4">As long as Killington shall proudly lift</span> -<span class="i4">Its lofty peak above the storm-cloud’s rift,</span> -<span class="i4">Or Mansfield hail the blue, o’erarching skies,</span> -<span class="i4">Or fair Mount Anthony in grandeur rise,</span> -<span class="i4">So long shall live the deeds that ye have done,</span> -<span class="i4">So deathless be the glory ye have won!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i16">Not with exultant joy</span> -<span class="i16">And pride without alloy,</span> -<span class="i0">Did the twin Centuries rejoice when all was o’er.</span> -<span class="i12">What though the Nation rose</span> -<span class="i12">Triumphant o’er its foes?</span> -<span class="i10">What though the State had gained</span> -<span class="i10">The meed of faith unstained?</span> -<span class="i0">Their mighty hearts remembered the dead that came no more!</span> -<span class="i10">Remembered all the losses,</span> -<span class="i10">The weary, weary crosses,</span> -<span class="i0">Remembered earth was poorer for the blood that had been shed,</span> -<span class="i0">And knew that it was sadder for the story it had read!</span> -<span class="i6">So, clasping hands with somewhat saddened mien,</span> -<span class="i6">And eyes uplifted to the Great Unseen</span> -<span class="i6">That rules alike o’er Centuries and men,</span> -<span class="i6">Onward they walked serenely toward—the End!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One reached it last year. Ye remember well—</span> -<span class="i0">The wondrous tale there is no need to tell—</span> -<span class="i0">How the whole world bowed down beside its bier;</span> -<span class="i0">How all the Nations came, from far or near,</span> -<span class="i0">Heaping their treasures on its mighty pall—</span> -<span class="i0">Never had kingliest king such funeral!</span> -<span class="i0">Old Asia rose, and, girding her in haste,</span> -<span class="i0">Swept in her jewelled robes across the waste,</span> -<span class="i0">And called to Egypt lying prone and hid</span> -<span class="i0">Where waits the Sphinx beside the pyramid;</span> -<span class="i0">Fair Europe came with overflowing hands,</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing the riches of her many lands;</span> -<span class="i0">Dark Afric, laden with her virgin gold,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet laden deeper with her woes untold;</span> -<span class="i0">Japan and China in grotesque array,</span> -<span class="i0">And all the enchanted islands of Cathay!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day the other dies.</span> -<span class="i2">It walked in humbler guise,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor stood where all men’s eyes</span> -<span class="i2">Were fixed upon it.</span> -<span class="i0">Earth may not pause to lay</span> -<span class="i2">A wreath upon its bier,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor the world heed to-day</span> -<span class="i2">Our dead that lieth here!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Yet well they loved each other—</span> -<span class="i2">It and its greater brother.</span> -<span class="i2">To loftiest stature grown,</span> -<span class="i2">Each earned its own renown;</span> -<span class="i2">Each sought of Time a crown,</span> -<span class="i4">And each has won it;</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XIV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But what to us are Centuries dead,</span> -<span class="i4">And rolling Years forever fled,</span> -<span class="i4">Compared with thee, O grand and fair</span> -<span class="i6">Vermont—our Goddess-mother?</span> -<span class="i0">Strong with the strength of thy verdant hills,</span> -<span class="i0">Fresh with the freshness of mountain-rills,</span> -<span class="i0">Pure as the breath of the fragrant pine,</span> -<span class="i0">Glad with the gladness of youth divine,</span> -<span class="i0">Serenely thou sittest throned to-day</span> -<span class="i0">Where the free winds that round thee play</span> -<span class="i0">Rejoice in thy waves of sun-bright hair,</span> -<span class="i6">O thou, our glorious mother!</span> -<span class="i0">Rejoice in thy beautiful strength and say</span> -<span class="i6">Earth holds not such another!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art not old with thy hundred years,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor worn with toil, or care, or tears:</span> -<span class="i0">But all the glow of the summer-time</span> -<span class="i0">Is thine to-day in thy glorious prime!</span> -<span class="i0">Thy brow is fair as the winter-snows,</span> -<span class="i0">With a stately calm in its still repose;</span> -<span class="i0">While the breath of the rose the wild bee sips,</span> -<span class="i0">Half-mad with joy, cannot eclipse</span> -<span class="i0">The marvellous sweetness of thy lips;</span> -<span class="i0">And the deepest blue of the laughing skies</span> -<span class="i0">Hides in the depths of thy fearless eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Gazing afar over land and sea</span> -<span class="i0">Wherever thy wandering children be!</span> -<span class="i6">Fold on fold,</span> -<span class="i0">Over thy form of grandest mould</span> -<span class="i0">Floweth thy robe of forest green,</span> -<span class="i0">Now light, now dark, in its emerald sheen.</span> -<span class="i0">Its broidered hem is of wild flowers rare,</span> -<span class="i0">With feathery fern-fronds light as air</span> -<span class="i0">Fringing its borders. In thy hair</span> -<span class="i0">Sprays of the pink arbutus twine,</span> -<span class="i0">And the curling rings of the wild grape vine.</span> -<span class="i0">Thy girdle is woven of silver streams;</span> -<span class="i0">Its clasp with the opaline lustre gleams</span> -<span class="i0">Of a lake asleep in the sunset beams;</span> -<span class="i6">And, half concealing</span> -<span class="i6">And half revealing,</span> -<span class="i0">Floats over all a veil of mist</span> -<span class="i0">Pale-tinted with rose and amethyst!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>XV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Arise, O noble mother of great sons,</span> -<span class="i0">Worthy to rank among earth’s mightiest ones,</span> -<span class="i0">And daughters fair and beautiful and good,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet wise and strong in loftiest womanhood—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Rise from thy throne, and, standing far and high</span> -<span class="i0">Outlined against the blue, adoring sky,</span> -<span class="i0">Lift up thy voice, and stretch thy loving hands</span> -<span class="i0">In benediction o’er the waiting lands!</span> -<span class="i0">Take thou our fealty! at thy feet we bow,</span> -<span class="i0">Glad to renew each oft-repeated vow!</span> -<span class="i0">No costly gifts we bring to thee to-day;</span> -<span class="i0">No votive wreaths upon thy shrine we lay;</span> -<span class="i0">Take thou our hearts, then!—hearts that fain would be</span> -<span class="i0">From this day forth, O goddess, worthier thee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>GETTYSBURG<br /><br /><small>1863-1889</small></h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Brothers, is this the spot?</span> -<span class="i0">Let the drums cease to beat;</span> -<span class="i0">Let the tread of marching feet,</span> -<span class="i0">With the clash and clang of steel</span> -<span class="i0">And the trumpet’s long appeal</span> -<span class="i0">(Cry of joy and sob of pain</span> -<span class="i0">In its passionate refrain)</span> -<span class="i10">Cease awhile,</span> -<span class="i10">Nor beguile</span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts that would rehearse the story</span> -<span class="i0">Of the past’s remembered glory;</span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts that would revive to-day</span> -<span class="i0">Stern War’s rude, imperious sway;</span> -<span class="i0">Waken battle’s fiery glow</span> -<span class="i0">With its ardor and its woe,</span> -<span class="i0">With its wild, exulting thrills,</span> -<span class="i0">With the rush of mighty wills,</span> -<span class="i0">And the strength to do and dare—</span> -<span class="i0">Born of passion and of prayer!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let the present fade away,</span> -<span class="i0">And the splendors of to-day;</span> -<span class="i0">For our hearts within us burn</span> -<span class="i0">As our glances backward turn.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> -<span class="i0">What rare memories awaken</span> -<span class="i0">As the tree of life is shaken,</span> -<span class="i0">And its storied branches blow</span> -<span class="i0">In the winds of long ago!</span> -<span class="i0">Do ye not remember, brothers,</span> -<span class="i0">Ere the war-days how ’twas said</span> -<span class="i0">Grand, heroic days were over</span> -<span class="i0">And proud chivalry was dead?</span> -<span class="i0">Still we saw the glittering lances</span> -<span class="i0">Gleaming through the old romances,</span> -<span class="i0">Still beheld the watch-fires burning</span> -<span class="i0">On the cloudy heights of Time;</span> -<span class="i4">And from fields that they had won,</span> -<span class="i4">When the stormy fight was done,</span> -<span class="i0">Saw victorious knights returning</span> -<span class="i0">Flushed with triumph’s joy sublime!</span> -<span class="i4">For the light of song and story</span> -<span class="i4">Kindled with supernal glory</span> -<span class="i0">Plains where ancient heroes fought;</span> -<span class="i0">And illumined, with a splendor</span> -<span class="i0">Rare and magical and tender,</span> -<span class="i0">All the mighty deeds they wrought.</span> -<span class="i0">But we thought the sword of battle,</span> -<span class="i0">Long unused, had lost its glow,</span> -<span class="i0">And the sullen war-gods slumbered</span> -<span class="i0">Where their altar-fires burned low!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Was</i> the nation dull and sodden,</span> -<span class="i4">Buried in material things?</span> -<span class="i0">’Twas the chrysalis, awaiting</span> -<span class="i0">The sure stirring of its wings!</span> -<span class="i0">For when rang the thrilling war-cry</span> -<span class="i4">Over all the startled land,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> -<span class="i0">And the fiery cross of battle,</span> -<span class="i4">Flaming, sped from hand to hand,</span> -<span class="i0">Then how fared it, O my brothers?</span> -<span class="i4">Were men false or craven then?</span> -<span class="i8">Did they falter?</span> -<span class="i8">Did they palter?</span> -<span class="i0">Did they question why or when?</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, the story shall be told</span> -<span class="i0">Until earth itself is old,</span> -<span class="i0">How, from mountain and from glen,</span> -<span class="i0">More than thrice ten thousand men</span> -<span class="i0">Heard the challenge of the foe,</span> -<span class="i0">Heard the nation’s cry of woe,</span> -<span class="i0">Heard the summoning to arms,</span> -<span class="i0">And the battle’s loud alarms!</span> -<span class="i0">In tumultuous surprise,</span> -<span class="i0">Lo, their answer rent the skies;</span> -<span class="i0">And its quick and strong heart-thrills</span> -<span class="i0">Rocked the everlasting hills!</span> -<span class="i0">Forth from blossoming fields they sped</span> -<span class="i0">To the fields with carnage red!</span> -<span class="i0">Left the plowshare standing still;</span> -<span class="i0">Left the bench, the forge, the mill;</span> -<span class="i0">Left the quiet walks of trade</span> -<span class="i0">And the quarry’s marble shade;</span> -<span class="i0">Left the pulpit and the court,</span> -<span class="i0">Careless ease and idle sport;</span> -<span class="i0">Left the student’s cloistered halls</span> -<span class="i0">In the old, gray college walls;</span> -<span class="i0">Left young love-dreams, dear and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">War’s stern front, unblenched, to meet!</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, the strange and sad amaze</span> -<span class="i0">Of those unforgotten days,</span> -<span class="i0">When the boys whom we had guided,</span> -<span class="i0">Nursed and loved, caressed and chided,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Suddenly, as in a night,</span> -<span class="i0">Sprang to manhood’s proudest height;</span> -<span class="i0">And with calmly smiling lips,</span> -<span class="i0">As who life’s rarest goblet sips,</span> -<span class="i0">Dauntless, with unhurried breath,</span> -<span class="i0">Marched to danger and to death!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>IV.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Soldiers, is this the spot?</span> -<span class="i0">Fair the scene is, calm and fair,</span> -<span class="i0">In this still October air;</span> -<span class="i0">Far blue hills look gently down</span> -<span class="i0">On the happy, tranquil town,</span> -<span class="i0">And the ridges nearer by</span> -<span class="i0">Steeped in autumn sunshine lie.</span> -<span class="i0">Laden orchards, smiling fields,</span> -<span class="i0">Rich in all that nature yields;</span> -<span class="i0">Bright streams winding in and out</span> -<span class="i0">Fertile meadows round about,</span> -<span class="i0">Lowing herds and hum of bee,</span> -<span class="i0">Birds that flit from tree to tree,</span> -<span class="i0">Children’s voices ringing clear,</span> -<span class="i0">All we touch or see or hear—</span> -<span class="i0">Fruit of gold in silver set—</span> -<span class="i0">Tell of joy and peace. And yet—</span> -<span class="i6">Soldiers, is this the spot</span> -<span class="i6">That can never be forgot?</span> -<span class="i0">Was it here that shot and shell</span> -<span class="i0">Poured as from the mouth of hell,</span> -<span class="i0">Drenched the shrinking, trembling plain</span> -<span class="i0">With a flood of fiery rain?</span> -<span class="i0">Was it here the awful wonder</span> -<span class="i0">Of the cannon’s crashing thunder</span> -<span class="i0">Shook the affrighted hills, and made</span> -<span class="i0">Even the stolid rocks afraid?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Was it here an armèd host,</span> -<span class="i4">Like two clouds where lightnings play,</span> -<span class="i0">Or two oceans, tempest tost,</span> -<span class="i8">Clashed and mingled in the fray?</span> -<span class="i0">Here that, ’mid the din and smoke,</span> -<span class="i0">Roar of guns and sabre stroke,</span> -<span class="i0">Tramp of furious steeds, where moan</span> -<span class="i0">Horse and rider, both o’erthrown,</span> -<span class="i0">Lurid fires and battle yell,</span> -<span class="i4">Forty thousand brave men fell?</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>V.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O brothers, words are weak!</span> -<span class="i0">What tongue shall dare to speak?</span> -<span class="i0">Even song itself grows dumb</span> -<span class="i0">In this high presence.—Come</span> -<span class="i0">Forth, ye whose ashes lie</span> -<span class="i0">Under this arching sky!</span> -<span class="i0">Speak ye in accents clear</span> -<span class="i0">Words that we fain would hear!</span> -<span class="i0">Tell us when your dim eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Holy with sacrifice,</span> -<span class="i0">Looked through the battle smoke</span> -<span class="i8">Up to the skies;</span> -<span class="i0">Tell us, ye valiant dead,</span> -<span class="i0">When your souls starward fled,</span> -<span class="i0">How from the portals far</span> -<span class="i0">Where the immortals are,</span> -<span class="i0">Chieftains and vikings old,</span> -<span class="i0">Heroes and warriors bold,</span> -<span class="i0">Men whom old Homer sung,</span> -<span class="i0">Men of each age and tongue,</span> -<span class="i0">Knights from a thousand fields</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing their blazoned shields</span> -<span class="i4">Thronged forth to meet ye!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Tell us how, floating down,</span> -<span class="i0">Each with a martyr’s crown,</span> -<span class="i0">They who had kept the faith,</span> -<span class="i0">Grandly defying death;</span> -<span class="i0">They who for conscience’ sake</span> -<span class="i0">Felt their firm heartstrings break;</span> -<span class="i0">They who for truth and right</span> -<span class="i0">Unshrinking fought the fight;</span> -<span class="i0">They who through fire and flame</span> -<span class="i0">Passed on to deathless fame,</span> -<span class="i4">Hastened to greet ye!</span> -<span class="i0">Tell how they welcomed ye,</span> -<span class="i0">Hailed and applauded ye,</span> -<span class="i0">Claimed ye as comrades true,</span> -<span class="i0">Brave as the world e’er knew;</span> -<span class="i0">Led your triumphant feet</span> -<span class="i0">Up to the highest seat,</span> -<span class="i0">Crowned ye with amaranth,</span> -<span class="i4">Laurel and palm.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VI.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas, alas! They speak not!</span> -<span class="i0">The silence deep they break not!</span> -<span class="i0">Heaven keeps its martyred ones</span> -<span class="i0">Beyond or moon or suns;</span> -<span class="i0">And Valhalla keeps its braves,</span> -<span class="i0">Leaving to us their graves!</span> -<span class="i0">Then let these graves speak for them</span> -<span class="i0">As long as the wind sweeps o’er them!</span> -<span class="i0">As long as the sentinel ridges</span> -<span class="i0">Keep guard on either hand;</span> -<span class="i0">As long as the hills they fought for</span> -<span class="i0">Like silent watch-towers stand!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Yet not of them alone</span> -<span class="i8">Round each memorial stone</span> -<span class="i0">Shall the proud breezes whisper as they pass,</span> -<span class="i8">Rustling the faded leaves</span> -<span class="i8">On chilly autumn eves,</span> -<span class="i0">And swaying tenderly the sheltering grass!</span> -<span class="i8">O ye who on this field</span> -<span class="i8">Knew not the joy to yield</span> -<span class="i0">Your young, glad lives in glorious conflict up;</span> -<span class="i8">Ye who as bravely fought,</span> -<span class="i8">Ye who as grandly wrought,</span> -<span class="i0">Draining with them war’s darkly bitter cup,</span> -<span class="i8">As long as stars endure</span> -<span class="i8">And God and Truth are sure;</span> -<span class="i8">While Love still claims its own,</span> -<span class="i8">While Honor holds its throne</span> -<span class="i8">And Valor hath a name,</span> -<span class="i8">Still shall these stony pages</span> -<span class="i8">Repeat to all the ages</span> -<span class="i8">The story of your fame!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>VIII.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O beautiful one, my Country,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou fairest daughter of Time,</span> -<span class="i0">To-day are thine eyes unclouded</span> -<span class="i0">In the light of a faith sublime!</span> -<span class="i0">No thunder of battle appals thee;</span> -<span class="i0">From thy woe thou hast found release;</span> -<span class="i0">From the graves of thy sons steals only</span> -<span class="i0">This one soft whisper,—“<span class="smcap">Peace</span>!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>“NO MORE THE THUNDER OF CANNON”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No more the thunder of cannon,</span> -<span class="i2">No more the clashing of swords,</span> -<span class="i0">No more the rage of the contest,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor the rush of contending hordes;</span> -<span class="i0">But, instead, the glad reunion,</span> -<span class="i2">The clasping of friendly hands,</span> -<span class="i0">The song, for the shout of battle,</span> -<span class="i2">Heard over the waiting lands.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O brothers, to-night we greet you</span> -<span class="i2">With smiles, half sad, half gay—</span> -<span class="i0">For our thoughts are flying backward</span> -<span class="i2">To the years so far away—</span> -<span class="i0">When with you who were part of the conflict,</span> -<span class="i2">With us who remember it all,</span> -<span class="i0">Youth marched with his waving banner,</span> -<span class="i2">And his voice like a bugle call!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We would not turn back the dial,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor live over the past again;</span> -<span class="i0">We would not the path re-travel,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor barter the “now” for the “then.”</span> -<span class="i0">Yet, oh, for the bounding pulses,</span> -<span class="i2">And the strength to do and dare,</span> -<span class="i0">When life was one grand endeavor,</span> -<span class="i2">And work clasped hands with prayer!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But blessed are ye, O brothers,</span> -<span class="i2">Who feel in your souls alway</span> -<span class="i0">The thrill of the stirring summons</span> -<span class="i2">You heard but to obey;</span> -<span class="i0">Who, whether the years go swift,</span> -<span class="i2">Or whether the years go slow,</span> -<span class="i0">Will wear in your hearts forever</span> -<span class="i2">The glory of long ago!</span> -</div></div></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> - -<h3>GRANT<br /><br /><small><span class="smcap">August 8, 1885</span></small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God sends his angels where he will,</span> -<span class="i2">From world to world, from star to star;</span> -<span class="i0">They do his bidding as they fly,</span> -<span class="i2">Whether or near or far!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whither it went, or what its quest,</span> -<span class="i2">I know not; but one August day</span> -<span class="i0">A great white angel through the far</span> -<span class="i2">Dim spaces took its way;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Until below it our fair earth,</span> -<span class="i2">Like a rich jewel fitly hung—</span> -<span class="i0">An emerald set with silver gleams—</span> -<span class="i2">In the blue ether swung.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The angel looked; the angel paused;</span> -<span class="i2">Then down the starry pathway swept,</span> -<span class="i0">Till mount and valley, hill and plain,</span> -<span class="i2">Beneath its vision slept.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Poised on a far blue mountain peak,</span> -<span class="i2">It saw the land, from sea to sea,</span> -<span class="i0">Lifting in veilèd splendor up</span> -<span class="i2">The banner of the free!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From tower and turret, spire and dome,</span> -<span class="i2">From stately halls, and cabins rude,</span> -<span class="i0">Where crag and cliff and forest meet</span> -<span class="i2">In awful solitude,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It saw strange, sombre pennants float,</span> -<span class="i2">Black shadows on the summer breeze</span> -<span class="i0">That bore, from shore to shore, the wail</span> -<span class="i2">Of solemn symphonies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It saw long files of armèd men,</span> -<span class="i2">Clad in a garb of faded blue,</span> -<span class="i0">Pass up and down the sorrowing land</span> -<span class="i2">As if in grand review.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It saw through crowded city streets,</span> -<span class="i2">Funereal trains move to and fro,</span> -<span class="i0">With tolling bells, and muffled drums,</span> -<span class="i2">And trumpets wailing low.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Descending then the angel sought</span> -<span class="i2">A stern, sad man of many cares—</span> -<span class="i0">Ah, oft before have mortals talked</span> -<span class="i2">With angels, unawares!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The angel spake, as man to man—</span> -<span class="i2">“What does it mean, O friend?” it cried,</span> -<span class="i0">“These sad-browed hosts, these weeds of woe,</span> -<span class="i2">This mourning far and wide?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stranger answered in amaze—</span> -<span class="i2">“Know you not what the whole world knows?</span> -<span class="i0">To his long home, thus grandly borne,</span> -<span class="i2">Earth’s greatest warrior goes.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The foremost soldier of his age,</span> -<span class="i2">The victor on full many a field—</span> -<span class="i0">Who saw the bravest of the brave</span> -<span class="i2">To his stern prowess yield.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The angel sighed. “That means,” it said,</span> -<span class="i2">“Tumult and anguish, pain and death,</span> -<span class="i0">And countless sons of men borne down</span> -<span class="i2">By the fierce cannon’s breath!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then passed from sight the heavenly guest,</span> -<span class="i2">And from the mountain-top again</span> -<span class="i0">Took its far flight from North to South,</span> -<span class="i2">Above the homes of men.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But still, where’er it went, it saw</span> -<span class="i2">The starry banners half mast high,</span> -<span class="i0">And tower and turret hung with black</span> -<span class="i2">Against the reddening sky!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still saw long ranks of armèd men</span> -<span class="i2">Who for the blue had worn the gray—</span> -<span class="i0">Still saw the sad processions pass,</span> -<span class="i2">Darkening the summer day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Was this <i>their</i> conqueror whom you mourn?”</span> -<span class="i2">The angel said to one who kept</span> -<span class="i0">Lone watch where, deep in grass-grown graves,</span> -<span class="i2">Young Southern soldiers slept.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Victor, yet friend,” the answer came,</span> -<span class="i2">“Even theirs who here their life-blood poured!</span> -<span class="i0">He, when the bitter field was won,</span> -<span class="i2">Was first to sheathe the sword,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And cry: ‘O brothers, take my hand—</span> -<span class="i2">Brave foemen, let us be at peace!</span> -<span class="i0">O’er all the undivided land</span> -<span class="i2">Let clash of conflict cease!’”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wondering angel went its way</span> -<span class="i2">From world to world, from star to star,</span> -<span class="i0">Where planet unto planet turned,</span> -<span class="i2">And suns blazed out afar.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Learn, learn, O universe,” it cried,</span> -<span class="i2">“How great is he whose foemen lay</span> -<span class="i0">Their love and homage at his feet,</span> -<span class="i2">On this—his burial day!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> -</div></div></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> -<h2>FRIAR ANSELMO AND OTHER POEMS</h2> -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> -<h3>FRIAR ANSELMO</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Friar Anselmo</span> for a secret sin</span> -<span class="i0">Sat bowed with grief the convent cell within;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor dared, such was his shame, to lift his eyes</span> -<span class="i0">To the low wall whereon, in dreadful guise,</span> -<span class="i0">The dead <span class="smcap">Christ</span> hung upon the cursèd tree,</span> -<span class="i0">Frowning, he thought, upon his misery.</span> -<span class="i0">What was his sin it matters not to tell.</span> -<span class="i2">But he was young and strong, the records say:</span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps he wearied of his narrow cell;</span> -<span class="i2">Perhaps he longed to work, as well as pray;</span> -<span class="i2">Perhaps his heart too warmly beat that day!</span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps—for life is long—the weary road</span> -<span class="i0">That he must travel, bearing as a load</span> -<span class="i0">The slow, monotonous hours that, one by one,</span> -<span class="i0">Dragged in a lengthening chain from sun to sun,</span> -<span class="i0">Appalled his eager spirit, and his vow</span> -<span class="i0">Pressed like an iron hand upon his brow.</span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps some dream of love, of home, of wife,</span> -<span class="i0">Had stirred this tumult in his lonely life,</span> -<span class="i0">Tempting his soul to barter heavenly bliss,</span> -<span class="i0">And sell its birthright for a woman’s kiss!</span> -<span class="i0">At all events, the struggle had been hard;</span> -<span class="i0">And as a bird from the glad ether barred,</span> -<span class="i0">So had he beat his wings till, bruised and torn,</span> -<span class="i0">He wished that night he never had been born!</span> -<span class="i0">And still the dead <span class="smcap">Christ</span> on the cursèd tree</span> -<span class="i0">Seemed but to mock his hopeless misery;</span> -<span class="i0">Still Mary mother turned her eyes away,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor saint nor angel bent to hear him pray!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The calm, cold moonlight through the casement shone;</span> -<span class="i0">Weird shadows darkened on the floor of stone;</span> -<span class="i0">Without, what solemn splendors! and within</span> -<span class="i0">What fearful wrestlings with despair and sin!</span> -<span class="i0">Sudden and loud the cloister bell outrang;</span> -<span class="i0">Afar a door swung to with sullen clang;</span> -<span class="i0">And overhead he heard the rhythmic beat,</span> -<span class="i0">The measured monotone of many feet</span> -<span class="i0">Seeking the chapel for the midnight prayer.</span> -<span class="i0">Black wings seemed hovering round him in the air,</span> -<span class="i0">Beating him back when with a stifled moan</span> -<span class="i0">He would have sought the holy altar stone.</span> -<span class="i0">Then with a swift, sharp cry, prostrate he fell</span> -<span class="i0">Before the crucifix. “The gates of hell</span> -<span class="i0">Shall not prevail against me!” loud he cried,</span> -<span class="i0">Stretching his arms to <span class="smcap">Christ</span>, the crucified.</span> -<span class="i0">“By Thy dread cross, Thy dying agony,</span> -<span class="i0">Thine awful passion, <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, deliver me!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it a dream? The taunting demons fled;</span> -<span class="i0">Through the dim cell a wondrous glory spread;</span> -<span class="i0">And all the air was filled with rare perfumes</span> -<span class="i0">Wafted from censers rich with heavenly blooms.</span> -<span class="i0">Transfigured stood the <span class="smcap">Christ</span> before his eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Clothed in white samite, woven in Paradise,</span> -<span class="i0">And from the empty cross upon the wall</span> -<span class="i0">Streamed a wide splendor that encompassed all!</span> -<span class="i0">Was it a dream? Anselmo’s sight grew dim;</span> -<span class="i0">The cloistered chamber seemed to reel and swim;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet well his spirit knew the glorious guest,</span> -<span class="i0">And all his manhood rose to meet the test.</span> -<span class="i0">“What wilt Thou have me, <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, to do?” he cried</span> -<span class="i2">With pallid lips, and kissed the sacred feet.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> -<span class="i2">And then in accents strangely calm, yet sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">These words he heard from <span class="smcap">Christ</span>, the crucified,</span> -<span class="i0">The pitying <span class="smcap">Christ</span> his inmost soul who read,</span> -<span class="i0">With all its wild unrest, its doubt and dread:</span> -<span class="i0">“<span class="smcap">Make thou a copy of My Holy Word!</span>”</span> -<span class="i0">Then mystic presences about him stirred;</span> -<span class="i0">The vision faded. At the dawn of day</span> -<span class="i0">Prostrate and pallid in the dusk he lay.</span> -<span class="i0">Was it a dream? <span class="smcap">God</span> knows! The narrow cell</span> -<span class="i0">Wore the old aspect he had learned so well,</span> -<span class="i0">And from the crucifix upon the wall</span> -<span class="i0">No glory streamed illuminating all!</span> -<span class="i0">Yet still a subtile fragrance filled the room;</span> -<span class="i0">And looking round him in the soft, gray gloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Anselmo saw upon the fretted floor</span> -<span class="i0">An eagle’s quill that this grave legend bore:</span> -<span class="i0">“He works most nobly for his fellow-men</span> -<span class="i0">Who gives My word to them, by tongue or pen!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Henceforth Anselmo prayed, but worked as well,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor felt the bondage of his cloister cell;</span> -<span class="i0">For all his soul was filled with high intent,</span> -<span class="i0">He had no dream since its accomplishment—</span> -<span class="i0">To make a copy of the Holy Word,</span> -<span class="i0">Fairer than eye had seen, or ear had heard,</span> -<span class="i0">Or heart conceived of! Day by day he wrought,</span> -<span class="i0">His fingers guided by a single thought;</span> -<span class="i0">Forming each letter with the tenderest care,</span> -<span class="i0">With points of richest color here and there;</span> -<span class="i0">With birds on swaying boughs, and butterflies</span> -<span class="i2">Poised on gay wings o’er sprays of eglantine;</span> -<span class="i2">With tangled tracery of flower and vine</span> -<span class="i2">Through which gleamed cherub faces, half divine;</span> -<span class="i0">With fading leaves that drift when summer dies,</span> -<span class="i0">And angels floating down the evening skies—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Each word an orison, each line a prayer!</span> -<span class="i0">Slowly the work went on from day to day;</span> -<span class="i0">The seasons came and went; May followed May;</span> -<span class="i0">Year after year passed by with stately tread</span> -<span class="i0">To join the countless legions of the dead,</span> -<span class="i0">Till Fra Anselmo, wan and bowed with age,</span> -<span class="i0">Bent, a gray monk, above the parchment page.</span> -<span class="i0">Death waited till he wrote the last fair line,</span> -<span class="i0">Then touched his hand and closed the Book Divine!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The world has grown apace since then.</span> -<span class="i0">He who would give <span class="smcap">God’s</span> word to men,</span> -<span class="i0">In cloistered cell, o’er parchment page,</span> -<span class="i0">No longer bends from youth to age.</span> -<span class="i0">Countless as leaves by autumn strewn</span> -<span class="i0">The leaves of His great Book are blown</span> -<span class="i0">Over the earth as wide and far</span> -<span class="i0">As seeds by wandering breezes are!</span> -<span class="i0">Yet none the less He speaks to-day</span> -<span class="i2">As to Anselmo in his cell;</span> -<span class="i0">Bidding men speed upon their way</span> -<span class="i2">His later messages as well.</span> -<span class="i0">For not alone in Holy Book,</span> -<span class="i2">In revelations dim and old,</span> -<span class="i2">In sweetest stories simply told,</span> -<span class="i2">In grand, prophetic strains that reach</span> -<span class="i2">The loftiest heights of human speech,</span> -<span class="i2">In martial hymn, or saintly psalm,</span> -<span class="i2">In fiery threat, or logic calm,</span> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">God’s</span> messages are writ to-day—</span> -<span class="i0">And He whose voice Mount Sinai shook</span> -<span class="i2">Still bids men hearken and obey!</span> -<span class="i0">He writes His name upon the hills;</span> -<span class="i0">He whispers in the mountain rills;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span> -<span class="i0">He speaks through every flower that blows,</span> -<span class="i0">In breath of lily, tint of rose;</span> -<span class="i0">In sultry calms; in furious beat</span> -<span class="i0">Of the wild storm’s tempestuous feet;</span> -<span class="i0">In starlit night, and dewy morn,</span> -<span class="i0">And splendor of the day new-born!</span> -<span class="i0">He uttereth His thunders where</span> -<span class="i0">The shock of battle rends the air;</span> -<span class="i0">He guides the fiery steeds of War;</span> -<span class="i0">He rules unseen the maddening jar,</span> -<span class="i0">The hate and din of party strife,</span> -<span class="i0">And bids it serve the nation’s life;</span> -<span class="i0">He leads fair Science, where she walks</span> -<span class="i2">With stately tread among the stars,</span> -<span class="i0">Or where, with reverent voice, she talks</span> -<span class="i2">With Nature through the eternal bars!</span> -<span class="i0">His Word is uttered wheresoe’er</span> -<span class="i0">A human soul has ears to hear.</span> -<span class="i0">The royal message never errs;</span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">God</span> send it true interpreters!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE KING’S ROSEBUD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only a blushing rosebud, folding up</span> -<span class="i0">Such wealth of sweetness in its dewy cup</span> -<span class="i0">That the whole air was like rare incense flung</span> -<span class="i0">From golden censers round high altars swung!</span> -<span class="i0">One day the king passed by with stately tread,</span> -<span class="i0">And, reaching forth his hand, he lightly said,</span> -<span class="i0">“All sweets are mine; therefore this rose I take,</span> -<span class="i0">And wear it in my bosom for Love’s sake.”</span> -<span class="i0">Then, while the king passed on with smiling face,</span> -<span class="i0">The sweet rose gloried in its pride of place.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ah! the deeds that in Love’s name are done!</span> -<span class="i0">The woeful wrack wrought underneath the sun!</span> -<span class="i0">Still with that smile upon his lip, the king</span> -<span class="i0">Laid his rash hand upon the beauteous thing;</span> -<span class="i0">In hot haste tore the crimson leaves apart,</span> -<span class="i0">And drained the sweetness from its glowing heart;</span> -<span class="i0">Seared the soft petals with its fiery breath,</span> -<span class="i0">Then tossed it from him to ignoble death!</span> -<span class="i0">When next with idle steps I passed that way,</span> -<span class="i0">Prone in the mire the king’s fair rosebud lay.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SOMEWHERE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How can I cease to pray for thee? Somewhere</span> -<span class="i2">In God’s great universe thou art to-day:</span> -<span class="i0">Can He not reach thee with His tender care?</span> -<span class="i2">Can He not hear me when for thee I pray?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What matters it to Him, who holds within</span> -<span class="i2">The hollow of His hand all worlds, all space,</span> -<span class="i0">That thou art done with earthly pain and sin?</span> -<span class="i2">Somewhere within His ken thou hast a place.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Somewhere thou livest and hast need of Him:</span> -<span class="i2">Somewhere thy soul sees higher heights to climb;</span> -<span class="i0">And somewhere still there may be valleys dim</span> -<span class="i2">That thou must pass to reach the hills sublime.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then all the more, because thou canst not hear</span> -<span class="i2">Poor human words of blessing, will I pray,</span> -<span class="i0">O true, brave heart! God bless thee, whereso’er</span> -<span class="i2">In His great universe thou art to-day!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>PERADVENTURE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am thinking to-night of the little child</span> -<span class="i2">That lay on my breast three summer days,</span> -<span class="i0">Then swiftly, silently, dropped from sight,</span> -<span class="i2">While my soul cried out in sore amaze.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is fifteen years ago to-night;</span> -<span class="i2">Somewhere, I know, he has lived them through,</span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps with never a thought or dream</span> -<span class="i2">Of the mother-heart he never knew!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is he yet but a babe? or has he grown</span> -<span class="i2">To be like his brothers, fair and tall,</span> -<span class="i0">With a clear, bright eye, and a springing step,</span> -<span class="i2">And a voice that rings like a bugle call?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I loved him. The rose in his waxen hand</span> -<span class="i2">Was wet with the dew of my falling tears;</span> -<span class="i0">I have kept the thought of my baby’s grave</span> -<span class="i2">Through all the length of these changeful years.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet the love I gave him was not like that</span> -<span class="i2">I give to-day to my other boys,</span> -<span class="i0">Who have grown beside me, and turned to me</span> -<span class="i2">In all their griefs and in all their joys.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do you think he knows it? I wonder much</span> -<span class="i2">If the dead are passionless, cold, and dumb;</span> -<span class="i0">If into the calm of the deathless years</span> -<span class="i2">No thrill of a human love may come!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps sometimes from the upper air</span> -<span class="i2">He has seen me walk with his brothers three;</span> -<span class="i0">Or felt in the tender twilight hour</span> -<span class="i2">The breath of the kisses they gave to me!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over his birthright, lost so soon,</span> -<span class="i2">Perhaps he has sighed as the swift years flew;</span> -<span class="i0">O child of my heart! you shall find somewhere</span> -<span class="i2">The love that on earth you never knew!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>RENA<br /><br />(<small>A LEGEND OF BRUSSELS</small>)</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">St. Gudula’s bells were chiming for the midnight, sad and slow,</span> -<span class="i0">In the ancient town of Brussels, many and many a year ago,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And St. Michael, poised so grandly on his lofty, airy height,</span> -<span class="i0">Seemed transfigured in the glory of the full moon’s tender light,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When, a fair and saintly maiden crowned with locks of palest gold,</span> -<span class="i0">Rena stood beside her lover, son of Hildebrand the Bold.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She with grief and tears was pallid; but his face was hard and stern:</span> -<span class="i0">All the passion of his being in his dark eyes seemed to burn.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Never dream that I will give thee back thy plighted faith,” he cried,</span> -<span class="i0">“By St. Michael’s sword I swear it, thou, my love, shalt be my bride!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Nay, but hear me,” she responded; “hear the words that I must speak;</span> -<span class="i0">I must speak, and thou must hearken, though my heart is like to break.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yestermorn, as I sat spinning blithely at my cottage door,</span> -<span class="i0">Straightway fell a stately shadow in the sunshine on the floor;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And a figure stood before me, so majestic and so grand,</span> -<span class="i0">That I knew it in a moment for the mighty Hildebrand—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stood and gazed on me till downward at my feet the distaff dropped,</span> -<span class="i0">And in all my veins the pulsing of the swift life-current stopped.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Thou art Rena,’ then he uttered, and he swore a dreadful oath,</span> -<span class="i0">And the tempest of his anger beat on me and on us both.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘She who thinks to wed with Volmar must have lands and gold,’ said he,</span> -<span class="i0">‘Or must come of noble lineage, fit to mate with mine and me!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art but a peasant maiden, empty-handed, lowly born;</span> -<span class="i0">All the ladies of my castle would look down on thee with scorn.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Even he will weary of thee when his passion once is spent,</span> -<span class="i0">Vainly cursing her who doomed him to an endless discontent!’</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I, trembling, rose up slowly, and I looked him in the face,</span> -<span class="i0">Though the dreadful frown it wore seemed to darken all the place.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Sir, I thank you for this warning,’ said I, speaking low and clear,</span> -<span class="i0">‘But the laughter of your ladies I must teach my heart to bear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the rest—your son is noble—and my simple womanhood</span> -<span class="i0">He will hold in loving honor, as a saint the holy rood!’</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! then his stern face whitened, and a bitter laugh laughed he:</span> -<span class="i0">‘Truly this my son is noble, and he shall not wed with thee.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hear my words now, and remember! for by this good sword I swear,</span> -<span class="i0">And by Michael standing yonder, watching us from upper air,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If he dares to place a wedding-ring upon your dowerless hand,</span> -<span class="i0">On his head shall fall a father’s curse—the curse of Hildebrand!’</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, my Volmar! Then the earth rocked, and I fell down in a swoon;</span> -<span class="i0">When I woke the room was silent; it was past the hour of noon;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I waited for thy coming, as the captive waits for death,</span> -<span class="i0">With a mingled dread and longing, and a half-abated breath!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Straight the young man bowed before her, as before a holy shrine:</span> -<span class="i0">“Never hand of high-born lady was more richly dowered than thine!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What care I for gold or honors, or—my—father’s—curse?” he said;</span> -<span class="i0">But the words died out in shudders, and his face grew like the dead.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then she twined her white arms round him, and she murmured, sweet and low,</span> -<span class="i0">As the night wind breathing softly over banks where violets blow:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘He who is accursed of father, he shall be accursed of God,’</span> -<span class="i0">Long ago said one who followed where the holy prophets trod.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Kiss me once, then, O my Volmar! just once more, my Volmar dear,</span> -<span class="i0">Even as you would kiss my white lips if I lay upon my bier!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For a gulf as dark as death has opened wide ’twixt thee and me;</span> -<span class="i0">Neither thou nor I can cross it, and thy wife I may not be!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once again the bells of midnight chimed from St. Gudula’s towers,</span> -<span class="i0">While St. Michael watched the city slumbering through the ghostly hours.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But no slumber came to Rena where she moaned in bitter pain,</span> -<span class="i0">For the anguish of that parting wrought its work on heart and brain.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Suddenly the air grew heavy as with magical perfume,</span> -<span class="i0">And a weird and wondrous splendor filled the dim and silent room.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the middle of the chamber stood a lady fair and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">With bright tresses falling softly to her small and sandalled feet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flushed her cheeks were as a wild rose, and the glory of her eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Was the laughing light and glory of the kindling morning skies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Airy robes of lightest tissue from her white arms floated free;</span> -<span class="i0">They seemed woven of the mist that curls above the azure sea,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wrought in curious devices, star and wheel and leaf and flower,</span> -<span class="i0">That, like frost upon a window-pane, might vanish in an hour.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In her hands she bore a cushion, quaintly fashioned, strangely set</span> -<span class="i0">With small silver pins that spanned it like a branching coronet;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And from threads of finest texture swung light bobbins to and fro,</span> -<span class="i0">As the lady stood illumined in the weird and wondrous glow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not a single word she uttered; but, as silent as a shade,</span> -<span class="i0">Down the room she swiftly glided and beside the startled maid</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Knelt, a radiant vision, smiling into Rena’s wondering eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Giving arch yet gracious answer to her tremulous surprise.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then she laid the satin cushion on the wondering maiden’s knee,</span> -<span class="i0">And to all her mute bewilderment, no syllable spake she.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, as in and out and round about, the silver pins among,</span> -<span class="i0">Flashed the white hand of the lady, and the shining bobbins swung,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo! a web of fairy lightness like the misty robe she wore,</span> -<span class="i0">Swiftly grew beneath her fingers, drifting downward to the floor!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as Rena looked and wondered, inch by inch the marvel grew,</span> -<span class="i0">Till the eastern windows brightened as the gray dawn struggled through.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the lady’s hand touched Rena’s, and she pointed far away,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the palace towers were gleaming in the first red light of day.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when once again the maiden turned her glance within the room,</span> -<span class="i0">With the lady fair had vanished all the splendor and perfume.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still the satin cushion lay there, quaintly fashioned, strangely set</span> -<span class="i0">With the silver pins that spanned it like a branching coronet;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still the light web she had woven lay in drifts upon the floor,</span> -<span class="i0">Like the mist wreaths resting softly on some lone, enchanted shore!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slowly Rena raised the cushion, with her sweet eyes shining clear,</span> -<span class="i0">Lightly tossed the fairy bobbins, half in gladness, half in fear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! not vain had been her watching as the lovely lady wrought;</span> -<span class="i0">All the magic of her fingers her own cunning hand had caught!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Many a day above the cushion Rena’s peerless head was bent,</span> -<span class="i0">And through many a solemn night she labored on with sweet intent.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, mayhap, the mystic marvels that she wove might bring her gold—</span> -<span class="i0">A fair dowry fit to match the pride of Hildebrand the Bold!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then she braided up her long hair, and put on her russet gown,</span> -<span class="i0">And with wicker basket laden passed she swiftly through the town,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To the palace where Queen Ildegar, with dames of high degree,</span> -<span class="i0">In a lofty oriel window sat, the beauteous morn to see.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the door-way she stood meekly, till the queen said, “Maiden fair,</span> -<span class="i0">What have you in yonder basket that you carry with such care?”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Eagerly she raised her blue eyes, hovering smiles and tears between,</span> -<span class="i0">Then across the room she glided, and knelt down before the queen.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lifting up the wicker cover, “Saints in heaven!” cried Ildegar,</span> -<span class="i0">“Here are tissues fit for angels, wrought with wreath and point and star,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In most curious devices! Never saw I aught so rare—</span> -<span class="i0">Where found you these frail webs woven of the lightest summer air?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Well they may be fit for angels,” said she, underneath her breath;</span> -<span class="i0">“O my lady, hear a story that is strange and true as death.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ere yet the tale was ended, up rose good Queen Ildegar,</span> -<span class="i0">And she sent her knights and pages to the castle riding far.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Bring me Hildebrand and Volmar, ere the sun goes down!” she cried,</span> -<span class="i0">“Ho! my ladies, for a wedding, and your queen shall bless the bride!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will buy these airy wonders, and this maiden in her hand</span> -<span class="i0">Shall a dowry hold as royal as the noblest in the land.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So they combed her shining tresses, and they brought her robes of silk,</span> -<span class="i0">Broidered thick with gold and silver, on a ground as white as milk.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But she whispered, “Sweetest ladies, let me wear my russet gown,</span> -<span class="i0">That I wore this happy morning walking blithely through the town.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am but a peasant maiden, all unused to grand estate,</span> -<span class="i0">And for robes of silken splendor, dearest ladies, let me wait!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the good queen, smiling brightly, from the wicker basket took</span> -<span class="i0">Lightest web of quaintest pattern, and its filmy folds out-shook.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With her own white hand she laid it over Rena’s golden hair,</span> -<span class="i0">And she cried, “Oh, look, my ladies! Ne’er before was bride so fair!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A SECRET</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is your secret and mine, love!</span> -<span class="i2">Ah, me! how the dreary rain</span> -<span class="i0">With a slow persistence, all day long</span> -<span class="i2">Dropped on the window-pane!</span> -<span class="i0">The chamber was weird with shadows</span> -<span class="i2">And dark with the deepening gloom</span> -<span class="i0">Where you in your royal womanhood,</span> -<span class="i2">Lay waiting for the tomb.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They had robed you all in white, love;</span> -<span class="i2">In your hair was a single rose—</span> -<span class="i0">A marble rose it might well have been</span> -<span class="i2">In its cold and still repose!</span> -<span class="i0">O, paler than yonder carven saint,</span> -<span class="i2">And calm as the angels are,</span> -<span class="i0">You seemed so near me, my beloved,</span> -<span class="i2">Yet were, alas, so far!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do not know if I wept, love;</span> -<span class="i2">But my soul rose up and said—</span> -<span class="i0">“My heart shall speak unto her heart,</span> -<span class="i2">Though here she is lying—dead!</span> -<span class="i0">I will give her a last love-token</span> -<span class="i2">That shall be to her a sign</span> -<span class="i0">In the dark grave—or beyond it—</span> -<span class="i2">Of this deathless love of mine.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So I sought me a little scroll, love;</span> -<span class="i2">And thereon, in eager haste,</span> -<span class="i0">Lest another’s eye should read them</span> -<span class="i2">Some mystic words I traced.</span> -<span class="i0">Then close in your claspèd fingers,</span> -<span class="i2">Close in your waxen hand,</span> -<span class="i0">I placed the scroll for an amulet,</span> -<span class="i2">Sure you would understand!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The secret is yours and mine, love!</span> -<span class="i2">Only we two may know</span> -<span class="i0">What words shine clear in the darkness,</span> -<span class="i2">Of your grave so green and low.</span> -<span class="i0">But if when we meet hereafter,</span> -<span class="i2">In the dawn of some fairer day,</span> -<span class="i0">You whisper those mystical words, love,</span> -<span class="i2">It is all I would have you say!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THIS DAY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wonder what is this day to you,</span> -<span class="i2">Looking down from the upper skies!</span> -<span class="i0">Is there a pang at your gentle heart?</span> -<span class="i2">Is there a shade in your tender eyes?</span> -<span class="i0">Do you think up there of the whispered words</span> -<span class="i2">That thrilled your soul long years ago?</span> -<span class="i0">Does ever a haunting undertone</span> -<span class="i2">Blend with the chantings sweet and low?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When this day dawned (if where you are</span> -<span class="i2">Skies grow red when the morn is near)</span> -<span class="i0">Did you know that before its close</span> -<span class="i2">The love once yours would be on its bier?</span> -<span class="i0">Did you know that another’s lip</span> -<span class="i2">Would redden with kisses once your own,</span> -<span class="i0">And the golden cup of a younger life</span> -<span class="i2">O’erflow with the wine once yours alone?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do you remember? Ah, my saint,</span> -<span class="i2">Bend your ear from the ether blue!</span> -<span class="i0">Have you risen to heights so far</span> -<span class="i2">That earth and its loves are nought to you?</span> -<span class="i0">Do you care that your place is filled?</span> -<span class="i2">Does it matter that now at last</span> -<span class="i0">The turf above you has grown so deep</span> -<span class="i2">That its shadow overlies your past?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, belovèd, I may not know!</span> -<span class="i2">Heaven is afar, and the grave is dumb,</span> -<span class="i0">And out of the silence so profound</span> -<span class="i2">Neither token nor voice may come!</span> -<span class="i0">We try to think that we understand;</span> -<span class="i2">But whether you wake, or whether you sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">Or whether our deeds are aught to you,</span> -<span class="i2">Is still a mystery strange and deep!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>“CHRISTUS!”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the desolate sea-side town</span> -<span class="i0">With a terrible tumult the night came down,</span> -<span class="i0">And the fierce wind swept through the empty street,</span> -<span class="i0">With the drifting snow for a winding-sheet.</span> -<span class="i0">Elsie, the fisherman’s daughter, in bed</span> -<span class="i0">Lay and listened in awe and dread,</span> -<span class="i0">But sprang to her feet in sudden fear</span> -<span class="i0">When over the tempest, loud and clear,</span> -<span class="i8">A voice cried, “Christus!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Christus! Christus!” and nothing more.</span> -<span class="i0">Was it a cry at the cottage-door?</span> -<span class="i0">She left her chamber with flying feet;</span> -<span class="i0">She loosened the bolts with fingers fleet;</span> -<span class="i0">She lifted the latch, but only the din</span> -<span class="i0">Of the furious storm and the snow swept in.</span> -<span class="i0">She looked without: not a soul was there,</span> -<span class="i0">But still rang out on the startled air</span> -<span class="i8">The strange cry, “Christus!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Christus! Christus!” She slept at last,</span> -<span class="i0">Though the old house rocked in the wintry blast;</span> -<span class="i0">And when she awoke the world was still,</span> -<span class="i0">A wide, white silence from sea to hill.</span> -<span class="i0">No creature stirred in the morning glow;</span> -<span class="i0">There was not a footprint in the snow;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet again through the hush, as faint and far</span> -<span class="i0">As if it came from another star,</span> -<span class="i8">A voice sighed “Christus!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Christus! Christus!” Who can it be,</span> -<span class="i0">O Christ our Lord, that is calling Thee</span> -<span class="i0">In a foreign tongue, with a woe as wild</span> -<span class="i0">As that of some lost, forsaken child?</span> -<span class="i0">She turned from the window with a startled gaze:</span> -<span class="i0">She clasped her hands in a pale amaze,</span> -<span class="i0">Hearkening still, till again she heard,</span> -<span class="i0">As in a waking dream, the word—</span> -<span class="i8">That strange word, “Christus!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then over the hill with weary feet</span> -<span class="i0">She toiled through the drifts to the village-street.</span> -<span class="i0">The villagers gathered in eager haste,</span> -<span class="i0">And all day long in the snowy waste</span> -<span class="i0">They sought in vain for the one who cried</span> -<span class="i0">To Him who of old was crucified:</span> -<span class="i0">Then, turning away with a laugh, they said,</span> -<span class="i0">“’Twas only the wild wind overhead,</span> -<span class="i8">Your cry of ‘Christus!’”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She watched their going with earnest eyes:</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! what voice to the taunt replies?</span> -<span class="i0">The trees were still as if struck with death;</span> -<span class="i0">The wind was soft as a baby’s breath;</span> -<span class="i0">The sobbing sea was asleep at last,</span> -<span class="i0">Scourged no more by the furious blast;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet, surely as ever from human tongue</span> -<span class="i0">A cry of grief or despair was wrung,</span> -<span class="i8">Some voice sighed, “Christus!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Burned on her cheek a sudden flame</span> -<span class="i0">As her heart’s strong throbbings went and came,</span> -<span class="i0">And she stood alone on the lonely shore,</span> -<span class="i0">Gazing the wide black waters o’er.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span> -<span class="i0">“Whether it comes from heaven or hell,</span> -<span class="i0">This voice I have learned to know too well—</span> -<span class="i0">Whether from lips alive or dead,</span> -<span class="i0">Or from the hovering air,” she said—</span> -<span class="i0">“Whether it comes from sea or land,</span> -<span class="i0">I will not sleep till I understand</span> -<span class="i8">This cry of ‘Christus!’”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Christus! Christus!” Faint and slow</span> -<span class="i0">Rose the wail from the drifted snow</span> -<span class="i0">Under a low-browed, beetling rock,</span> -<span class="i0">Strong to withstand the whirlwind’s shock.</span> -<span class="i0">There, in the heart of the snowy mound,</span> -<span class="i0">The buried form of a man she found—</span> -<span class="i0">A Spanish sailor, with beard of brown</span> -<span class="i0">Over his red scarf flowing down,</span> -<span class="i0">And jewelled ears that were strange to see.</span> -<span class="i0">She was bending over it, when—ah me!</span> -<span class="i8">The shrill cry, “Christus!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rang out as if from the stony lips</span> -<span class="i0">Whence life had parted in drear eclipse,</span> -<span class="i0">As if the soul of the dead man cried</span> -<span class="i0">Again unto Christ the Crucified.</span> -<span class="i0">The rose had fled from her cheeks so red,</span> -<span class="i0">But still she knelt by his side and said,</span> -<span class="i0">Under her breath, “I must understand</span> -<span class="i0">Whether from heaven or sea or land</span> -<span class="i8">Comes that cry, ‘Christus!’”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She laid her hand on the pulseless breast!</span> -<span class="i0">What fluttered beneath the crimson vest?</span> -<span class="i0">A bird with plumage of green and gold,</span> -<span class="i0">Nestling away from the piercing cold,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Was folded close to the silent heart</span> -<span class="i0">From which it had felt the life depart;</span> -<span class="i0">And when she held it against her cheek,</span> -<span class="i0">As plainly as ever a bird could speak</span> -<span class="i8">It sobbed out, ‘Christus!’”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And evermore when the winds blew loud,</span> -<span class="i0">And the trees in the grasp of the storm were bowed,</span> -<span class="i0">And the lowering wings of the tempest beat</span> -<span class="i0">The drifting snow in the village-street,</span> -<span class="i0">Just as its master in death had cried</span> -<span class="i0">To Christ, the Holy, the Crucified,</span> -<span class="i0">Pouring his soul in one wild word—</span> -<span class="i0">Pray God that the cry in heaven was heard!—</span> -<span class="i8">The bird cried, “Christus!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE KISS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When you lay before me dead,</span> -<span class="i2">In your pallid rest,</span> -<span class="i0">On those passive lips of thine</span> -<span class="i2">Not one kiss I pressed!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did you wonder—looking down</span> -<span class="i2">From some higher sphere—</span> -<span class="i0">Knowing how we two had loved</span> -<span class="i2">Many and many a year?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did you think me strange and cold</span> -<span class="i2">When I did not touch,</span> -<span class="i0">Even with reverent finger-tips,</span> -<span class="i2">What I had loved so much?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! when last you kissed me, dear,</span> -<span class="i2">Know you what you said?</span> -<span class="i0">“Take this last kiss, my beloved,</span> -<span class="i2">Soon shall I be dead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Keep it for a solemn sign,</span> -<span class="i2">Through our love’s long night,</span> -<span class="i0">Till you give it back again</span> -<span class="i2">On some morning bright.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So I gave you no caress;</span> -<span class="i2">But, remembering this,</span> -<span class="i0">Warm upon my lips I keep</span> -<span class="i2">Your last living kiss!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WHAT SHE THOUGHT</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Marion showed me her wedding-gown</span> -<span class="i2">And her veil of gossamer lace to-night,</span> -<span class="i0">And the orange-blooms that to-morrow morn</span> -<span class="i2">Shall fade in her soft hair’s golden light.</span> -<span class="i0">But Philip came to the open door:</span> -<span class="i2">Like the heart of a wild-rose glowed her cheek,</span> -<span class="i0">And they wandered off through the garden-paths</span> -<span class="i2">So blest that they did not care to speak.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wonder how it seems to be loved;</span> -<span class="i2">To know you are fair in someone’s eyes;</span> -<span class="i0">That upon someone your beauty dawns</span> -<span class="i2">Every day as a new surprise;</span> -<span class="i0">To know that, whether you weep or smile,</span> -<span class="i2">Whether your mood be grave or gay,</span> -<span class="i0">Somebody thinks you, all the while,</span> -<span class="i2">Sweeter than any flower of May.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wonder what it would be to love:</span> -<span class="i2">That, I think, would be sweeter far,—</span> -<span class="i0">To know that one out of all the world</span> -<span class="i2">Was lord of your life, your king, your star!</span> -<span class="i0">They talk of love’s sweet tumult and pain:</span> -<span class="i2">I am not sure that I understand,</span> -<span class="i0">Though—a thrill ran down to my finger-tips</span> -<span class="i2">Once when—somebody—touched my hand!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wonder what it would be to dream</span> -<span class="i2">Of a child that might one day be your own;</span> -<span class="i0">Of the hidden springs of your life a part,</span> -<span class="i2">Flesh of your flesh, and bone of your bone.</span> -<span class="i0">Marion stooped one day to kiss</span> -<span class="i2">A beggar’s babe with a tender grace;</span> -<span class="i0">While some sweet thought, like a prophecy,</span> -<span class="i2">Looked from her pure Madonna face.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wonder what it must be to think</span> -<span class="i2">To-morrow will be your wedding-day,</span> -<span class="i0">And you, in the radiant sunset glow</span> -<span class="i2">Down fragrant flowery paths will stray,</span> -<span class="i0">As Marion does this blessed night,</span> -<span class="i2">With Philip, lost in a blissful dream.</span> -<span class="i0">Can she feel his heart through the silence beat?</span> -<span class="i2">Does he see her eyes in the starlight gleam?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Questioning thus, my days go on;</span> -<span class="i2">But never an answer comes to me:</span> -<span class="i0">All love’s mysteries, sweet as strange,</span> -<span class="i2">Sealed away from my life must be.</span> -<span class="i0">Yet still I dream, O heart of mine!</span> -<span class="i2">Of a beautiful city that lies afar;</span> -<span class="i0">And there, some time, I shall drop the mask,</span> -<span class="i2">And be shapely and fair as others are.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WHAT NEED?</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>“What need has the singer to sing?</i></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And why should your poet to-day</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>His pale little garland of poesy bring,</i></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On the altar to lay?</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>High-priests of song the harp-strings swept</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ages before he smiled or wept!”</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What need have the roses to bloom?</span> -<span class="i2">And why do the tall lilies grow?</span> -<span class="i0">And why do the violets shed their perfume</span> -<span class="i8">When night-winds breathe low?</span> -<span class="i0">They are no whit more bright and fair</span> -<span class="i0">Than flowers that breathed in Eden’s air!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What need have the stars to shine on?</span> -<span class="i2">Or the clouds to grow red in the west,</span> -<span class="i0">When the sun, like a king, from the fields he has won,</span> -<span class="i8">Goes grandly to rest?</span> -<span class="i0">No brighter they than stars and skies</span> -<span class="i0">That greeted Eve’s sweet, wondering eyes!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What need has the eagle to soar</span> -<span class="i2">So proudly straight up to the sun?</span> -<span class="i0">Or the robin such jubilant music to pour</span> -<span class="i8">When day is begun?</span> -<span class="i0">The eagles soared, the robins sung,</span> -<span class="i0">As high, as sweet, when earth was young!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What need, do you ask me? Each day</span> -<span class="i2">Hath a song and a prayer of its own,</span> -<span class="i0">As each June hath its crown of fresh roses, each May</span> -<span class="i8">Its bright emerald throne!</span> -<span class="i0">Its own high thought each age shall stir,</span> -<span class="i0">Each needs its own interpreter!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thou, O, my poet, sing on!</span> -<span class="i2">Sing on until love shall grow old;</span> -<span class="i0">Till patience and faith their last triumphs have won,</span> -<span class="i8">And truth is a tale that is told!</span> -<span class="i0">Doubt not, thy song shall still be new</span> -<span class="i0">While life endures and God is true!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TWO</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We two will stand in the shadow here,</span> -<span class="i2">To see the bride as she passes by;</span> -<span class="i0">Ring soft and low, ring loud and clear,</span> -<span class="i2">Ye chiming bells that swing on high!</span> -<span class="i0">Look! look! she comes! The air grows sweet</span> -<span class="i2">With the fragrant breath of the orange blooms,</span> -<span class="i0">And the flowers she treads beneath her feet</span> -<span class="i2">Die in a flood of rare perfumes!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She comes! she comes! The happy bells</span> -<span class="i2">With joyous clamor fill the air,</span> -<span class="i0">While the great organ dies and swells,</span> -<span class="i2">Soaring to trembling heights of prayer!</span> -<span class="i0">Oh! rare are her robes of silken sheen,</span> -<span class="i2">And the pearls that gleam on her bosom’s snow;</span> -<span class="i0">But rarer the grace of her royal mien,</span> -<span class="i2">Her hair’s fine gold, and her cheek’s young glow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dainty and fair as a folded rose,</span> -<span class="i2">Fresh as a violet dewy sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">Chaste as a lily, she hardly knows</span> -<span class="i2">That there are rough paths for other feet.</span> -<span class="i0">For Love hath shielded her; Honor kept</span> -<span class="i2">Watch beside her by night and day;</span> -<span class="i0">And Evil out from her sight hath crept,</span> -<span class="i2">Trailing its slow length far away.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now in her perfect womanhood,</span> -<span class="i2">In all the wealth of her matchless charms,</span> -<span class="i0">Lovely and beautiful, pure and good,</span> -<span class="i2">She yields herself to her lover’s arms.</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! how the jubilant voices ring!</span> -<span class="i2">Lo! as we stand in the shadow here,</span> -<span class="i0">While far above us the gay bells swing,</span> -<span class="i2">I catch the gleam of a happy tear!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pageant is over. Come with me</span> -<span class="i2">To the other side of the town, I pray,</span> -<span class="i0">Ere the sun goes down in the darkening sea,</span> -<span class="i2">And night falls around us, chill and gray.</span> -<span class="i0">In the dim church porch an hour ago,</span> -<span class="i2">We waited the bride’s fair face to see;</span> -<span class="i0">Now Life has a sadder sight to show,</span> -<span class="i2">A darker picture for you and me.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No need to seek for the shadow here;</span> -<span class="i2">There are shadows lurking everywhere;</span> -<span class="i0">These streets in the brightest day are drear,</span> -<span class="i2">And black as the blackness of despair.</span> -<span class="i0">But this is the house. Take heed, my friend,</span> -<span class="i2">The stairs are rotten, the way is dim;</span> -<span class="i0">And up the flights, as we still ascend,</span> -<span class="i2">Creep stealthy phantoms dark and grim.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Enter this chamber. Day by day,</span> -<span class="i2">Alone in this chill and ghostly room,</span> -<span class="i0">A child—a woman—which is it, pray?—</span> -<span class="i2">Despairingly waits for the hour of doom!</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! as she wrings her hands so pale,</span> -<span class="i2">No gleam of a wedding ring you see;</span> -<span class="i0">There is nothing to tell. You know the tale—</span> -<span class="i2">God help her now in her misery!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I dare not judge her. I only know</span> -<span class="i2">That love was to her a sin and a snare,</span> -<span class="i0">While to the bride of an hour ago</span> -<span class="i2">It brought all blessings its hands could bear!</span> -<span class="i0">I only know that to one it came</span> -<span class="i2">Laden with honor, and joy, and peace;</span> -<span class="i0">Its gifts to the other were woe and shame,</span> -<span class="i2">And a burning pain that shall never cease!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I only know that the soul of one</span> -<span class="i2">Has been a pearl in a golden case;</span> -<span class="i0">That of the other a pebble thrown</span> -<span class="i2">Idly down in a way-side place,</span> -<span class="i0">Where all day long strange footsteps trod,</span> -<span class="i2">And the bold, bright sun drank up the dew!</span> -<span class="i0">Yet both were women. O righteous God,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou only canst judge between the two!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>UNANSWERED</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where mountain-peaks rose far and high</span> -<span class="i0">Into the blue, unclouded sky,</span> -<span class="i0">And waves of green, like billowy seas,</span> -<span class="i0">Tossed proudly in the freshening breeze,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I rode one morning, late in June.</span> -<span class="i0">The glad winds sang a pleasant tune;</span> -<span class="i0">The air, like draughts of rarest wine,</span> -<span class="i0">Made every breath a joy divine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With roses all the way was bright;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet there upon that upland height</span> -<span class="i0">The darlings of the early spring—</span> -<span class="i0">Blue violets—were blossoming.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all the meadows, wide unrolled,</span> -<span class="i0">Were green and silver, green and gold,</span> -<span class="i0">Where buttercups and daisies spun</span> -<span class="i0">Their shining tissues in the sun.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over its shallow, pebbly bed,</span> -<span class="i0">A sparkling river gayly sped,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor cared that deeper waters bore</span> -<span class="i0">A grander freight from shore to shore.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It sung, it danced, it laughed, it played,</span> -<span class="i0">In sunshine now, and now in shade;</span> -<span class="i0">While every gnarled tree joyed to make</span> -<span class="i0">A greener garland for its sake.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep peace was in the summer air,</span> -<span class="i0">A peace all nature seemed to share;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet even there I could not flee</span> -<span class="i0">The shadow of life’s mystery!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A farmhouse stood beside the way,</span> -<span class="i0">Low-roofed and rambling, quaint and gray;</span> -<span class="i0">And where the friendly door swung wide</span> -<span class="i0">Red roses climbed on either side.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thither, down the winding road</span> -<span class="i0">Near which the sparkling river flowed,</span> -<span class="i0">In groups, in pairs, the neighbors pressed,</span> -<span class="i0">Each in his Sunday raiment dressed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sober calm was on each face;</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet stillness brooded o’er the place;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet something of a festal air</span> -<span class="i0">The youths and maidens seemed to wear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, as I passed, an idle breeze</span> -<span class="i0">Swept through the quivering maple-trees;</span> -<span class="i0">Chased by the winds in merry rout,</span> -<span class="i0">A fair, light curtain floated out.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this I saw: a quiet room</span> -<span class="i0">Adorned with flowers of richest bloom—</span> -<span class="i0">A lily here, a garland there—</span> -<span class="i0">Fragrance and silence everywhere.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then on I rode. But if a bride</span> -<span class="i0">Should there her happy blushes hide,</span> -<span class="i0">Or if beyond my vision lay</span> -<span class="i0">Some pale face shrouded from the day,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I could not tell. O joy and Pain,</span> -<span class="i0">Your voices join in one refrain!</span> -<span class="i0">So like ye are, we may not know</span> -<span class="i0">If this be gladness, this be woe!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE CLAY TO THE ROSE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O beautiful, royal Rose,</span> -<span class="i2">O Rose, so fair and sweet!</span> -<span class="i0">Queen of the garden art thou,</span> -<span class="i2">And I—the Clay at thy feet!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The butterfly hovers about thee;</span> -<span class="i2">The brown bee kisses thy lips;</span> -<span class="i0">And the humming-bird, reckless rover,</span> -<span class="i2">Their marvellous sweetness sips.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sunshine hastes to caress thee</span> -<span class="i2">Flying on pinions fleet;</span> -<span class="i0">The dew-drop sleeps in thy bosom,</span> -<span class="i2">But I—I lie at thy feet!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The radiant morning crowns thee;</span> -<span class="i2">And the noon’s hot heart is thine;</span> -<span class="i0">And the starry night enfolds thee</span> -<span class="i2">In the might of its love divine;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear the warm rain whisper</span> -<span class="i2">Its message soft and sweet;</span> -<span class="i0">And the south-wind’s passionate murmur,</span> -<span class="i2">While I lie low at thy feet!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not mine to approach thee;</span> -<span class="i2">I never may kiss thy lips,</span> -<span class="i0">Or touch the hem of thy garment</span> -<span class="i2">With tremulous finger-tips.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, O thou beautiful Rose!</span> -<span class="i2">Queen rose, so fair and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">What were lover or crown to thee</span> -<span class="i2">Without the Clay at thy feet?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AT THE LAST</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will the day ever come, I wonder,</span> -<span class="i2">When I shall be glad to know</span> -<span class="i0">That my hands will be folded under</span> -<span class="i2">The next white fall of the snow?</span> -<span class="i0">To know that when next the clover</span> -<span class="i2">Wooeth the wandering bee,</span> -<span class="i0">Its crimson tide will drift over</span> -<span class="i2">All that is left of me?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Will I ever be tired of living,</span> -<span class="i2">And be glad to go to my rest,</span> -<span class="i0">With a cool and fragrant lily</span> -<span class="i2">Asleep on my silent breast?</span> -<span class="i0">Will my eyes grow weary of seeing,</span> -<span class="i2">As the hours pass, one by one,</span> -<span class="i0">Till I long for the hush and the darkness</span> -<span class="i2">As I never longed for the sun?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God knoweth! Sometime, it may be,</span> -<span class="i2">I shall smile to hear you say:</span> -<span class="i0">“Dear heart! she will not waken</span> -<span class="i2">At the dawn of another day!”</span> -<span class="i0">And sometime, love, it may be,</span> -<span class="i2">I shall whisper under my breath:</span> -<span class="i0">“The happiest hour of my life, dear,</span> -<span class="i2">Is this—the hour of my death!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TO THE “BOUQUET CLUB”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Rosebud garland of girls!</span> -<span class="i2">Who ask for a song from me,</span> -<span class="i0">To what sweet air shall I set my lay?</span> -<span class="i2">What shall its key-note be?</span> -<span class="i0">The flowers have gone from wood and hill;</span> -<span class="i0">The rippling river lies white and still;</span> -<span class="i0">And the birds that sang on the maple bough,</span> -<span class="i0">Afar in the South are singing now!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Rosebud garland of girls!</span> -<span class="i2">If the whole glad year were May;</span> -<span class="i0">If winds sang low in the clustering leaves,</span> -<span class="i2">And roses bloomed alway;</span> -<span class="i0">If youth were all that there is of life;</span> -<span class="i0">If the years brought nothing of care or strife,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor ever a cloud to the ether blue,</span> -<span class="i0">It were easy to sing a song for you!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, O my garland of girls!</span> -<span class="i2">Is there nothing better than May?</span> -<span class="i0">The golden glow of the harvest time!</span> -<span class="i2">The rest of the Autumn day!</span> -<span class="i0">This thought I give to you all to keep:</span> -<span class="i0">Who soweth good seed shall surely reap;</span> -<span class="i0">The year grows rich as it groweth old,</span> -<span class="i0">And life’s latest sands are its sands of gold!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>EVENTIDE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whenever, with reverent footsteps,</span> -<span class="i2">I pass through the open door</span> -<span class="i0">Of Memory’s stately palace,</span> -<span class="i2">Where dwell the days of yore,</span> -<span class="i0">One scene, like a lovely vision,</span> -<span class="i2">Comes to me o’er and o’er.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis a dim, fire-lighted chamber;</span> -<span class="i2">There are pictures on the wall;</span> -<span class="i0">And around them dance the shadows</span> -<span class="i2">Grotesque and weird and tall,</span> -<span class="i0">As the flames on the storied hearth-stone</span> -<span class="i2">Wavering rise and fall.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An ancient cabinet stands there,</span> -<span class="i2">That came from beyond the seas,</span> -<span class="i0">With a breath of spicy odors</span> -<span class="i2">Caught from the Indian breeze;</span> -<span class="i0">And its fluted doors and moldings</span> -<span class="i2">Are dark with mysteries.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s an old arm-chair in the corner,</span> -<span class="i2">Straight-backed and tall and quaint;</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! many a generation—</span> -<span class="i2">Sinner and sage and saint—</span> -<span class="i0">It hath held in its ample bosom</span> -<span class="i2">With murmur nor complaint!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the glow of the fire-light playing,</span> -<span class="i2">A tiny, blithesome pair,</span> -<span class="i0">With the music of their laughter</span> -<span class="i2">Fill all the tranquil air—</span> -<span class="i0">A rosy, brown-eyed lassie,</span> -<span class="i2">A boy serenely fair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A woman sits in the shadow</span> -<span class="i2">Watching the children twain,</span> -<span class="i0">With a joy so deep and tender</span> -<span class="i2">It is near akin to pain,</span> -<span class="i0">And a smile and tear blend softly—</span> -<span class="i2">Sunshine and April rain!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her heart keeps time to the rhythm</span> -<span class="i2">Of love’s unuttered prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">As, with still hands lightly folded,</span> -<span class="i2">She listens, unaware,</span> -<span class="i0">Through all the children’s laughter,</span> -<span class="i2">For a footfall on the stair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know the woman who sits there;</span> -<span class="i2">Time hath been kind to her,</span> -<span class="i0">And the years have brought her treasures</span> -<span class="i2">Of frankincense and myrrh</span> -<span class="i0">Richer, perhaps, and rarer,</span> -<span class="i2">Than Life’s young roses were.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I doubt if ever her spirit</span> -<span class="i2">Hath known, or yet shall know,</span> -<span class="i0">The bliss of a happier hour,</span> -<span class="i2">As the swift years come and go,</span> -<span class="i0">Than this in the shadowy chamber</span> -<span class="i2">Lit by the hearth-fire’s glow!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MY LOVERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have four noble lovers,</span> -<span class="i2">Young and gallant, blithe and gay,</span> -<span class="i0">And in all the land no maiden</span> -<span class="i2">Hath a goodlier troupe than they!</span> -<span class="i0">And never princess, guarded</span> -<span class="i2">By knights of high degree,</span> -<span class="i0">Knew sweeter, purer homage</span> -<span class="i2">Than my lovers pay to me!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One of my noble lovers</span> -<span class="i2">Is a self-poised, thoughtful man,</span> -<span class="i0">Gravely gay, serenely earnest,</span> -<span class="i2">Strong to do, and bold to plan.</span> -<span class="i0">And one is sweet and sunny,</span> -<span class="i2">Pure as crystal, true as steel,</span> -<span class="i0">With a soul responding ever</span> -<span class="i2">When the truth makes high appeal.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And another of my lovers,</span> -<span class="i2">Bright and <i>debonair</i> is he,</span> -<span class="i0">Brave and ardent, strong and tender,</span> -<span class="i2">And the flower of courtesie.</span> -<span class="i0">Last of all, an eager student,</span> -<span class="i2">Upon lofty aims intent:</span> -<span class="i0">Manly force and gentle sweetness</span> -<span class="i2">In his nature rarely blent.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when of noble lovers</span> -<span class="i2">All alike are dear and true,</span> -<span class="i0">And her heart to choose refuses,</span> -<span class="i2">Pray, what can a woman do?</span> -<span class="i0">Ah, my sons! For this I bless ye,</span> -<span class="i2">Even as I myself am blest,</span> -<span class="i0">That I know not which is dearest,</span> -<span class="i2">That I care not which is best!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE LEGEND OF THE ORGAN-BUILDER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Day by day the Organ-Builder in his lonely chamber wrought;</span> -<span class="i0">Day by day the soft air trembled to the music of his thought;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till at last the work was ended, and no organ voice so grand</span> -<span class="i0">Ever yet had soared responsive to the master’s magic hand.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ay, so rarely was it builded that whenever groom or bride</span> -<span class="i0">Who in God’s sight were well pleasing in the church stood side by side,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Without touch or breath the organ of itself began to play,</span> -<span class="i0">And the very airs of heaven through the soft gloom seemed to stray.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was young, the Organ-Builder, and o’er all the land his fame</span> -<span class="i0">Ran with fleet and eager footsteps, like a swiftly rushing flame.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All the maidens heard the story; all the maidens blushed and smiled,</span> -<span class="i0">By his youth and wondrous beauty and his great renown beguiled.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So he sought and won the fairest, and the wedding-day was set:</span> -<span class="i0">Happy day—the brightest jewel in the glad year’s coronet!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when they the portal entered, he forgot his lovely bride—</span> -<span class="i0">Forgot his love, forgot his God, and his heart swelled high with pride.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Ah!” thought he, “how great a master am I! When the organ plays,</span> -<span class="i0">How the vast cathedral arches will re-echo with my praise!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up the aisle the gay procession moved. The altar shone afar,</span> -<span class="i0">With its every candle gleaming through soft shadows like a star.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But he listened, listened, listened, with no thought of love or prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">For the swelling notes of triumph from his organ standing there.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All was silent. Nothing heard he save the priest’s low monotone,</span> -<span class="i0">And the bride’s robe trailing softly o’er the floor of fretted stone.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then his lips grew white with anger. Surely God was pleased with him</span> -<span class="i0">Who had built the wondrous organ for His temple vast and dim?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whose the fault, then? Hers—the maiden standing meekly at his side!</span> -<span class="i0">Flamed his jealous rage, maintaining she was false to him—his bride.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vain were all her protestations, vain her innocence and truth;</span> -<span class="i0">On that very night he left her to her anguish and her ruth.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far he wandered to a country wherein no man knew his name.</span> -<span class="i0">For ten weary years he dwelt there, nursing still his wrath and shame.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then his haughty heart grew softer, and he thought by night and day</span> -<span class="i0">Of the bride he had deserted, till he hardly dared to pray—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thought of her, a spotless maiden, fair and beautiful and good;</span> -<span class="i0">Thought of his relentless anger that had cursed her womanhood;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till his yearning grief and penitence at last were all complete,</span> -<span class="i0">And he longed, with bitter longing, just to fall down at her feet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! how throbbed his heart when, after many a weary day and night,</span> -<span class="i0">Rose his native towers before him, with the sunset glow alight!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the gates into the city on he pressed with eager tread;</span> -<span class="i0">There he met a long procession—mourners following the dead.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now, why weep ye so, good people? and whom bury ye to-day?</span> -<span class="i0">Why do yonder sorrowing maidens scatter flowers along the way?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Has some saint gone up to Heaven?” “Yes,” they answered, weeping sore:</span> -<span class="i0">“For the Organ-Builder’s saintly wife our eyes shall see no more;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And because her days were given to the service of God’s poor,</span> -<span class="i0">From His church we mean to bury her. See! yonder is the door.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No one knew him; no one wondered when he cried out, white with pain;</span> -<span class="i0">No one questioned when, with pallid lips, he poured his tears like rain.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“’Tis someone whom she has comforted who mourns with us,” they said,</span> -<span class="i0">As he made his way unchallenged, and bore the coffin’s head.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bore it through the open portal, bore it up the echoing aisle,</span> -<span class="i0">Set it down before the altar, where the lights burned clear the while:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When, oh, hark! the wondrous organ of itself began to play</span> -<span class="i0">Strains of rare, unearthly sweetness never heard until that day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All the vaulted arches rang with the music sweet and clear;</span> -<span class="i0">All the air was filled with glory, as of angels hovering near;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And ere yet the strain was ended, he who bore the coffin’s head,</span> -<span class="i0">With the smile of one forgiven, gently sank beside it—dead.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They who raised the body knew him, and they laid him by his bride;</span> -<span class="i0">Down the aisle and o’er the threshold they were carried side by side;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While the organ played a dirge that no man ever heard before,</span> -<span class="i0">And then softly sank to silence—silence kept for evermore.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>BUTTERFLY AND BABY BLUE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Butterfly and Baby Blue,</span> -<span class="i2">Did you come together</span> -<span class="i0">Floating down the summer skies,</span> -<span class="i2">In the summer weather?</span> -<span class="i0">Seems to me you’re much alike,</span> -<span class="i2">Airy, fairy creatures,</span> -<span class="i0">Though I small resemblance find</span> -<span class="i2">In your tiny features!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Butterfly has gauzy wings,</span> -<span class="i2">Bright with jewelled splendor;</span> -<span class="i0">Baby Blue has pink-white arms,</span> -<span class="i2">Rosy, warm, and tender.</span> -<span class="i0">Butterfly has golden rings,</span> -<span class="i2">Charming each beholder;</span> -<span class="i0">Baby wears a knot of blue</span> -<span class="i2">On each dimpled shoulder.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Butterfly is never still,</span> -<span class="i2">Always in a flutter;</span> -<span class="i0">And of dainty Baby Blue</span> -<span class="i2">The same truth I utter!</span> -<span class="i0">Butterfly on happy wing</span> -<span class="i2">In the sunshine dances;</span> -<span class="i0">Baby Blue for sunshine has</span> -<span class="i2">Mother’s smiles and glances!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Butterfly seeks honey-dew</span> -<span class="i2">In a lily palace;</span> -<span class="i0">Baby Blue finds nectar sweet</span> -<span class="i2">In a snow-white chalice.</span> -<span class="i0">Butterfly will furl its wings</span> -<span class="i2">When the air grows colder;</span> -<span class="i0">While dear Baby Blue will be</span> -<span class="i2">Just a trifle older!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! the days are growing short,</span> -<span class="i2">Soon the birds will leave us,</span> -<span class="i0">And of all the garden flowers</span> -<span class="i2">Cruel frost bereave us.</span> -<span class="i0">Butterfly and Baby Blue,</span> -<span class="i2">Do not go together,</span> -<span class="i0">Sailing through the autumn skies</span> -<span class="i2">In the autumn weather!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>KING IVAN’S OATH</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">King Ivan ruled a mighty land</span> -<span class="i0">Girt by the sea on either hand;</span> -<span class="i0">A goodly land as e’er the sun</span> -<span class="i0">In its long journey looked upon!</span> -<span class="i0">His knights were loyal, brave, and true,</span> -<span class="i0">Eager their lord’s behests to do;</span> -<span class="i0">His counsellors were wise and just,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor ever failed his kingly trust;</span> -<span class="i0">The nations praised him, and the state</span> -<span class="i0">Grew powerful, and rich, and great;</span> -<span class="i0">While still with long and loud acclaim,</span> -<span class="i0">His people hailed their monarch’s name!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fronting the east, a stately pile,</span> -<span class="i0">The palace caught the sun’s first smile;</span> -<span class="i0">Lightly its domes and arches sprung,</span> -<span class="i0">As earth’s glad hills when earth was young;</span> -<span class="i0">And miracles of airy grace,</span> -<span class="i0">Each tower and turret soared in space.</span> -<span class="i0">Within——But here no rhythmic flow</span> -<span class="i0">Of words with light and warmth aglow</span> -<span class="i0">Can tell the story. Not more fair</span> -<span class="i0">Are your own castles hung in air!</span> -<span class="i0">Painter and sculptor there had wrought</span> -<span class="i0">The utmost beauty of their thought;</span> -<span class="i0">There the rich fruit of Persian looms</span> -<span class="i0">Glowed darkly bright as tropic blooms;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> -<span class="i0">There fell the light like golden mist,</span> -<span class="i0">Filtered through clouds of amethyst;</span> -<span class="i0">There bright-winged birds and odorous flowers</span> -<span class="i0">With song and fragrance filled the hours;</span> -<span class="i0">There Pleasure flung the portals wide,</span> -<span class="i0">And soul and sense were satisfied!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The queen? No fairer face than hers</span> -<span class="i0">E’er smiled upon its worshippers;</span> -<span class="i0">And she was good as fair, ’twas said,</span> -<span class="i0">And loved the king ere they were wed.</span> -<span class="i0">And he? No doubt he loved her, too,</span> -<span class="i0">After a kingly fashion—knew</span> -<span class="i0">She had a right his throne to share,</span> -<span class="i0">And would be mother of his heir.</span> -<span class="i0">But yet, to do him justice, he</span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes forgot his royalty—</span> -<span class="i0">Forgot his kingly crown, and then</span> -<span class="i0">Loved, and made love, like other men!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There seemed no shadow near the throne;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet oft the great king walked alone,</span> -<span class="i0">Hands clasped behind him, head bowed down,</span> -<span class="i0">And on his royal face a frown.</span> -<span class="i0">Sat Mordecai within his gate?</span> -<span class="i0">What scoffing spectre mocked his state?</span> -<span class="i0">What demon held him in a spell?</span> -<span class="i0">Alas! the sweet queen knew too well!</span> -<span class="i0">Apples of Sodom ate he, since</span> -<span class="i0">She had not borne to him a prince,</span> -<span class="i0">Though thrice his hope had budded fair,</span> -<span class="i0">And he had counted on an heir.</span> -<span class="i0">Three little daughters, dainty girls</span> -<span class="i0">With sunshine tangled in their curls,</span> -<span class="i0">Bloomed in the palace; but no son—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> -<span class="i0">The long-expected, waited one,</span> -<span class="i0">Flower of the state, and pride of all—</span> -<span class="i0">Grew at the king’s side, straight and tall!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The king was angered. It may be</span> -<span class="i0">No worse than other men was he;</span> -<span class="i0">But—a high tower upon a hill—</span> -<span class="i0">His light shone far for good or ill!</span> -<span class="i0">In from the chase one day he rode;</span> -<span class="i0">To the queen’s chamber fierce he strode;</span> -<span class="i0">Where bending o’er her ’broidery frame,</span> -<span class="i0">Her pale cheeks burned with sudden flame</span> -<span class="i0">At his quick coming. Up she rose,</span> -<span class="i0">Stirred from her wonted calm repose,</span> -<span class="i0">A lily flushing when the sun</span> -<span class="i0">Its stately beauty looked upon!</span> -<span class="i0">Alas! alas! so blind was he—</span> -<span class="i0">Or else he did not care to see—</span> -<span class="i0">He had no pity, though she stood</span> -<span class="i0">In perfect flower of womanhood!</span> -<span class="i0">“You bear to me no son,” he said;</span> -<span class="i0">Then flinging back his haughty head:</span> -<span class="i0">“Each base-born peasant has an heir,</span> -<span class="i0">His name to keep, his crust to share,</span> -<span class="i0">While I—the king of this broad land—</span> -<span class="i0">Have no son near my throne to stand!</span> -<span class="i0">Who, then, shall reign when I am dead?</span> -<span class="i0">Who wield the sceptre in my stead?</span> -<span class="i0">Inherit all my pride and power,</span> -<span class="i0">And wear my glory as his dower?</span> -<span class="i0">Give me a man-child, who shall be</span> -<span class="i0">Lord of the realm, himself, and me!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then pallid lips made slow reply—</span> -<span class="i0">“God ordereth. Not you nor I!”</span> -<span class="i0">His brow flushed hot; a sudden clang</span> -<span class="i0">As of arms throughout the chamber rang,</span> -<span class="i0">And turning on his heel, he threw</span> -<span class="i0">Back wrathful answer: “That may do</span> -<span class="i0">For puling women—not for me!</span> -<span class="i0">Now, by my good sword, we shall see!</span> -<span class="i0">So help me Heaven, I will not brook</span> -<span class="i0">On a girl’s face again to look!</span> -<span class="i0">And when you next shall bear a child,</span> -<span class="i0">Though fair a babe as ever smiled,</span> -<span class="i0">If it be not a princely heir,</span> -<span class="i0">By all the immortal gods, I swear</span> -<span class="i0">I ne’er will speak to it, nor break</span> -<span class="i0">My soul’s stern silence for Love’s sake!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then forth he fared and rode away,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor saw the queen again that day—</span> -<span class="i0">The hapless queen, who to the floor</span> -<span class="i0">Sank prone and breathless, as the door</span> -<span class="i0">Swung to behind him, and his tread</span> -<span class="i0">Down the long arches echoèd.</span> -<span class="i0">In truth she was in sorry plight</span> -<span class="i0">When her maids found her late that night,</span> -<span class="i0">The king learned that which spoiled his rest,</span> -<span class="i0">But kept the secret in his breast!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At length, when months had duly sped,</span> -<span class="i0">High streamed the banners overhead,</span> -<span class="i0">And all the bells rang out at morn</span> -<span class="i0">In jubilant peals—a Prince was born!</span> -<span class="i0">Now let the joyous music ring!</span> -<span class="i0">Now let the merry minstrels sing!</span> -<span class="i0">Now pour the wine and crown the feast</span> -<span class="i0">With fruits and flowers of all the East!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Now let the votive candles shine</span> -<span class="i0">And garlands bloom on every shrine!</span> -<span class="i0">Now let the young, with flying feet</span> -<span class="i0">Time to bewildering music beat,</span> -<span class="i0">And let the old their joys rehearse</span> -<span class="i0">In stirring tale, or flowing verse!</span> -<span class="i0">Now fill with shouts the waiting air,</span> -<span class="i0">And scatter largess everywhere!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! who so happy as the king?</span> -<span class="i0">Swift flew the hours on eager wing;</span> -<span class="i0">And the boy grew apace, until</span> -<span class="i0">The second summer, sweet and still,</span> -<span class="i0">Dropped roses round him as he played</span> -<span class="i0">Where arched the leafy colonnade.</span> -<span class="i0">How fair he was tongue cannot say,</span> -<span class="i0">But he was fairer than the day;</span> -<span class="i0">And never princely coronet</span> -<span class="i0">On brow of nobler mould was set;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor ever did its jewels gleam</span> -<span class="i0">Above an eye of brighter beam;</span> -<span class="i0">And never yet where sunshine falls,</span> -<span class="i0">Flooding with light the cottage walls,</span> -<span class="i0">’Mid hum of bee, or song of birds,</span> -<span class="i0">Or tenderest breath of loving words,</span> -<span class="i0">Blossomed a sweeter child than he!</span> -<span class="i0">How the king joyed his strength to see,</span> -<span class="i0">Counting the weeks that flew so fast—</span> -<span class="i0">Each fuller, happier than the last!</span> -<span class="i0">Six months had passed since he could walk;</span> -<span class="i0">Was it not time the prince should talk?</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! baby words with tripping feet!</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! baby laughter, silver sweet!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At length within the palace rose</span> -<span class="i0">Rumor so strange that friends and foes</span> -<span class="i0">Forgot their love, forgot their hate,</span> -<span class="i0">Pausing to croon and speculate.</span> -<span class="i0">Vague whispers floated in the air;</span> -<span class="i0">A hint of mystery here and there;</span> -<span class="i0">A sudden hush, a startled glance,</span> -<span class="i0">Quick silences and looks askance.</span> -<span class="i0">Thus day by day the wonder grew,</span> -<span class="i0">Till o’er the kingdom wide it flew.</span> -<span class="i0">The prince—his father—what was this</span> -<span class="i0">Strange tale so surely told amiss?</span> -<span class="i0">The young prince dumb? Who dared to say</span> -<span class="i0">That nature such a prank could play?</span> -<span class="i0"><i>Dumb to the king?</i> In silence bound,</span> -<span class="i0">With voiceless lips that gave no sound</span> -<span class="i0">When the king questioned?—Yet, no lute,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor chiming bell, nor silver flute,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor lark’s song, high in ether hung,</span> -<span class="i0">Rang clearer than the prince’s tongue!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The court physicians came and went;</span> -<span class="i0">Learned men from all the continent</span> -<span class="i0">Gave wise opinions, talked of laws,</span> -<span class="i0">Stroked their gray beards, nor found the cause.</span> -<span class="i0">Then bribes were tried, and threats. The child,</span> -<span class="i0">As one bewildered, sighed and smiled,</span> -<span class="i0">In a wild storm of weeping broke,</span> -<span class="i0">Moved its red lips, but never spoke.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The changeful years rolled on apace;</span> -<span class="i0">The young prince wore a bearded face;</span> -<span class="i0">The good queen died; the king grew gray;</span> -<span class="i0">A generation passed away.</span> -<span class="i0">Courtiers forgot to tell the tale;</span> -<span class="i0">Gossip itself grew old and stale.</span> -<span class="i0">But never once, in all the years</span> -<span class="i0">That bore such freight of joys and tears,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Was the spell broken: not one word</span> -<span class="i0">From son to sire was ever heard.</span> -<span class="i0">Mutely his father’s face he scanned—</span> -<span class="i0">Mutely he clasped his agèd hand—</span> -<span class="i0">Mutely he kissed him when at last</span> -<span class="i0">To death’s long slumber forth he passed!</span> -<span class="i0">Come weal or woe, he could not break</span> -<span class="i0">The mystic silence for Love’s sake!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AT DAWN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At dawn, when the jubilant morning broke,</span> -<span class="i2">And its glory flooded the mountain side,</span> -<span class="i0">I said, “’Tis eleven years to-day,</span> -<span class="i2">Eleven years since my darling died!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then I turned to my household ways,</span> -<span class="i2">To my daily tasks, without, within,</span> -<span class="i0">As happily busy all the day</span> -<span class="i2">As if my darling had never been!—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As if she had never lived, or died!</span> -<span class="i2">Yet when they buried her out of my sight</span> -<span class="i0">I thought the sun had gone down at noon,</span> -<span class="i2">And the day could never again be bright.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, well! As the swift years come and go,</span> -<span class="i2">It will not be long ere I shall lie</span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere under a bit of turf,</span> -<span class="i2">With my pale hands folded quietly.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then someone who has loved me well—</span> -<span class="i2">Perhaps the one who has loved me best—</span> -<span class="i0">Will say of me as I said of her,</span> -<span class="i2">“She has been just so many years at rest”—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then turn to the living loves again,</span> -<span class="i2">To the busy life, without, within,</span> -<span class="i0">And the day will go on from dawn to dusk,</span> -<span class="i2">Even as if I had never been!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear hearts! dear hearts! It must still be so!</span> -<span class="i2">The roses will bloom, and the stars will shine,</span> -<span class="i0">And the soft green grass creep still and slow,</span> -<span class="i2">Sometime over a grave of mine—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And over the grave in your hearts as well!</span> -<span class="i2">Ye cannot hinder it if ye would;</span> -<span class="i0">And I—ah! I shall be wiser then—</span> -<span class="i2">I would not hinder it if I could!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>IN MEMORIAM</h3> - -<p class="center">[Cyrus M. and Mary Ripley Fisher,<br /> lost on steamship Atlantic, -April 1, 1873.]</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once, long ago, with trembling lips I sung</span> -<span class="i2">Of one who, when the earliest flowers were seen,</span> -<span class="i0">So sweet, so dear, so beautiful and young,</span> -<span class="i2">Came home to sleep where kindred graves were green.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soft was the turf we raised to give her room;</span> -<span class="i2">Clear were the rain-drops, shining as they fell;</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet the arbutus, with its tender bloom</span> -<span class="i2">Brightening the couch of her who loved it well.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, in our blindness, how we wept that day,</span> -<span class="i2">When the earth fell upon her coffin-lid!</span> -<span class="i0">O, ye beloved whom I sing <i>this</i> day,</span> -<span class="i2">Could we but know where your dear forms lie hid!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Could we but lay you down by her dear side,</span> -<span class="i2">Wrapped in the garments of eternal rest,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the still hours in slow succession glide,</span> -<span class="i2">And not a dream may stir the pulseless breast—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where all day long the shadows come and go,</span> -<span class="i2">And soft winds murmur and sweet song-birds sing—</span> -<span class="i0">Where all night long the starlight’s tender glow</span> -<span class="i2">Falls where the flowers you loved are blossoming—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then should the tempest of our grief grow calm;</span> -<span class="i2">Then moaning gales should vex our souls no more;</span> -<span class="i0">And the clear swelling of our thankful psalm</span> -<span class="i2">Should drown the beat of surges on the shore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the deep sea will not give up its dead.</span> -<span class="i2">O, ye who know where your belovèd sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">Bid heart’s-ease bloom on each love-guarded bed,</span> -<span class="i2">And bless your God for graves whereon to weep!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WEAVING THE WEB</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“This morn I will weave my web,” she said,</span> -<span class="i2">As she stood by her loom in the rosy light,</span> -<span class="i0">And her young eyes, hopefully glad and clear,</span> -<span class="i2">Followed afar the swallow’s flight.</span> -<span class="i0">“As soon as the day’s first tasks are done,</span> -<span class="i2">While yet I am fresh and strong,” said she,</span> -<span class="i0">“I will hasten to weave the beautiful web</span> -<span class="i2">Whose pattern is known to none but me!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will weave it fine, I will weave it fair,</span> -<span class="i2">And ah! how the colors will glow!” she said;</span> -<span class="i0">“So fadeless and strong will I weave my web</span> -<span class="i2">That perhaps it will live after I am dead.”</span> -<span class="i0">But the morning hours sped on apace;</span> -<span class="i2">The air grew sweet with the breath of June;</span> -<span class="i0">And young Love hid by the waiting loom,</span> -<span class="i2">Tangling the threads as he hummed a tune.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Ah, life is so rich and full!” she cried,</span> -<span class="i2">“And morn is short though the days are long!</span> -<span class="i0">This noon I will weave my beautiful web,</span> -<span class="i2">I will weave it carefully, fine and strong.”</span> -<span class="i0">But the sun rode high in the cloudless sky;</span> -<span class="i2">The burden and heat of the day she bore</span> -<span class="i0">And hither and thither she came and went,</span> -<span class="i2">While the loom stood still as it stood before.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Ah! life is too busy at noon,” she said;</span> -<span class="i2">“My web must wait till the eventide,</span> -<span class="i0">Till the common work of the day is done,</span> -<span class="i2">And my heart grows calm in the silence wide.”</span> -<span class="i0">So, one by one, the hours passed on</span> -<span class="i2">Till the creeping shadows had longer grown;</span> -<span class="i0">Till the house was still, and the breezes slept,</span> -<span class="i2">And her singing birds to their nests had flown.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“And now I will weave my web,” she said,</span> -<span class="i2">As she turned to her loom ere set of sun,</span> -<span class="i0">And laid her hand on the shining threads</span> -<span class="i2">To set them in order one by one.</span> -<span class="i0">But hand was tired, and heart was weak:</span> -<span class="i2">“I am not as strong as I was,” sighed she,</span> -<span class="i0">“And the pattern is blurred, and the colors rare</span> -<span class="i2">Are not so bright, or so fair to see!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I must wait, I think, till another morn;</span> -<span class="i2">I must go to my rest with my work undone;</span> -<span class="i0">It is growing too dark to weave!” she cried,</span> -<span class="i2">As lower and lower sank the sun.</span> -<span class="i0">She dropped the shuttle; the loom stood still;</span> -<span class="i2">The weaver slept in the twilight gray.</span> -<span class="i0">Dear heart! Will she weave her beautiful web</span> -<span class="i2">In the golden light of a longer day?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE “CHRISTUS” OF THE PASSION PLAY OF OBERAMMERGAU</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How does life seem to thee? I long to look</span> -<span class="i0">Into thine inmost soul, and see if thou</span> -<span class="i0">Art even as other men! Oh, set apart</span> -<span class="i0">And consecrate so long to purpose high,</span> -<span class="i0">Canst thou take up again our common lot,</span> -<span class="i0">And live as we live? Canst thou buy and sell,</span> -<span class="i0">Stoop to small needs, and petty ministries,</span> -<span class="i0">Work and get gain, eat, drink, and soundly sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">Sin and repent, as these thy brethren do?</span> -<span class="i0">Unto what name less sacred answerest thou</span> -<span class="i0">Who hast been called the Christ of Nazareth?</span> -<span class="i0">Thou who hast worn the awful crown of thorns,</span> -<span class="i0">Hanging like Him upon the dreadful Tree,</span> -<span class="i0">Canst thou, uncrowned, forget thy royalty?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>RABBI BENAIAH</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rabbi Benaiah at the close of day,</span> -<span class="i2">When the low sun athwart the level sands</span> -<span class="i2">Shot his long arrows, from far Eastern lands</span> -<span class="i0">Homeward across the desert bent his way.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Behind him trailed the lengthening caravan—</span> -<span class="i2">The slow, weird camels, with monotonous pace;</span> -<span class="i2">Before him, lifted in the clear, far space,</span> -<span class="i0">From east to west the towers of his city ran!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Impatiently he scanned the darkening sky;</span> -<span class="i2">Then girding in hot haste, “What ho!” cried he,</span> -<span class="i2">“Bring the swift steed Abdallah unto me!</span> -<span class="i0">As rode his Bedouin master, so will I!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soon like a bird across the waste he flew,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor drew his rein till at the massive gate</span> -<span class="i2">That guards the citadel’s supremest state</span> -<span class="i0">He paused a moment, slowly entering through.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then down the shadowy, moonlit streets he sped;</span> -<span class="i2">The city slept; but like a burning star,</span> -<span class="i2">Where his own turret-chamber rose afar,</span> -<span class="i0">A clear, strong light its steady radiance shed!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into his court he rode with sudden clang.</span> -<span class="i2">The startled slaves bowed low, but spake no word;</span> -<span class="i2">By no quick tumult was the midnight stirred,</span> -<span class="i0">No shouts of welcome on the night air rang!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But with slow footsteps down the turret-stairs,</span> -<span class="i2">With trembling lips that hardly breathed his name,</span> -<span class="i2">And sad, averted eyes, his fair wife came—</span> -<span class="i0">The lady Judith—wan with tears and prayers.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then swift he cried out, less in wrath than fear,</span> -<span class="i2">“Now, by my beard! is this the way ye keep</span> -<span class="i2">My welcome home? Go! wake my sons from sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">And let their glad tongues break the silence here!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Not so, my dear lord! Let them rest,” she said.</span> -<span class="i2">“Young eyes need slumber. But come thou with me.</span> -<span class="i2">I have a trouble to make known to thee</span> -<span class="i0">Ere I before thee can lift up my head.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into an inner chamber led she him,</span> -<span class="i2">And with her own hands brought him meat and wine,</span> -<span class="i2">A purple robe, and linen pure and fine.</span> -<span class="i0">He half forgot that her sweet eyes were dim!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now for thy trouble!” cried he, laughing loud.</span> -<span class="i2">“Hast torn thy kirtle? Are thy pearls astray?</span> -<span class="i2">What! Tears? My camels o’er yon desert way</span> -<span class="i0">Bring treasures that had made Queen Esther proud!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slowly she spake, nor in his face looked she.</span> -<span class="i2">“My lord, long years ago a friend of mine</span> -<span class="i2">Left with me jewels, costly, rare, and fine,</span> -<span class="i0">Bidding me guard them carefully till he</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Again should call for them. The other day</span> -<span class="i2">He sent his messenger. But I have learned</span> -<span class="i2">To prize them as my own! Have I not earned</span> -<span class="i0">A right to keep them? Speak, my lord, I pray!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Strange sense of honor hath a woman’s heart!”</span> -<span class="i2">The rabbi answered hotly. “Now, good lack!</span> -<span class="i2">Where are the jewels? I will send them back</span> -<span class="i0">Ere yet the sun upon his course may start!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Show me the jewels!” Up she rose as white</span> -<span class="i2">As any ghost, and mutely led the way</span> -<span class="i2">Into the turret-chamber whence the ray</span> -<span class="i0">Seen from afar had blessed the rabbi’s sight.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then with slow, trembling hands she drew aside</span> -<span class="i2">The silken curtain from before the bed</span> -<span class="i2">Whereon, in snowy calm, their boys lay dead.</span> -<span class="i0">“There are the jewels, O, my lord!” she cried.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A CHILD’S THOUGHT</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Softly fell the twilight;</span> -<span class="i2">In the glowing west</span> -<span class="i0">Purple splendors faded;</span> -<span class="i2">Birds had gone to rest;</span> -<span class="i0">All the winds were sleeping;</span> -<span class="i2">One lone whip-poor-will</span> -<span class="i0">Made the silence deeper,</span> -<span class="i2">Calling from the hill.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Silently, serenely,</span> -<span class="i2">From his mother’s knee,</span> -<span class="i0">In the gathering darkness,</span> -<span class="i2">Still as still could be,</span> -<span class="i0">A young child watched the shadows;</span> -<span class="i2">Saw the stars come out;</span> -<span class="i0">Saw the weird bats flitting</span> -<span class="i2">Stealthily about;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Saw across the river</span> -<span class="i2">How the furnace glow,</span> -<span class="i0">Like a fiery pennant,</span> -<span class="i2">Wavered to and fro;</span> -<span class="i0">Saw the tall trees standing</span> -<span class="i2">Black against the sky,</span> -<span class="i0">And the moon’s pale crescent</span> -<span class="i2">Swinging far and high.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deeper grew the darkness;</span> -<span class="i2">Darker grew his eyes</span> -<span class="i0">As he gazed around him,</span> -<span class="i2">In a still surprise.</span> -<span class="i0">Then intently listening,</span> -<span class="i2">“What is this I hear</span> -<span class="i0">All the time, dear mother,</span> -<span class="i2">Sounding in my ear?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I hear nothing,” said she,</span> -<span class="i2">“Earth is hushed and still.”</span> -<span class="i0">But he hearkened, hearkened,</span> -<span class="i2">With an eager will,</span> -<span class="i0">Till at length a quick smile</span> -<span class="i2">O’er the child-face broke,</span> -<span class="i0">And a kindling lustre</span> -<span class="i2">In his dark eyes woke.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Listen, listen, mother!</span> -<span class="i2">For I hear the sound</span> -<span class="i0">Of the wheels, the great wheels</span> -<span class="i2">That move the world around!”</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, ears earth has dulled not!</span> -<span class="i2">In your purer sphere,</span> -<span class="i0">Strains from ours withholden</span> -<span class="i2">Are you wise to hear?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>“GOD KNOWS”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wild and dark was the winter night</span> -<span class="i2">When the emigrant ship went down,</span> -<span class="i0">But just outside of the harbor bar,</span> -<span class="i2">In the sight of the startled town.</span> -<span class="i0">The winds howled, and the sea roared,</span> -<span class="i2">And never a soul could sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">Save the little ones on their mothers’ breasts,</span> -<span class="i2">Too young to watch and weep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No boat could live in the angry surf,</span> -<span class="i2">No rope could reach the land:</span> -<span class="i0">There were bold, brave hearts upon the shore,</span> -<span class="i2">There was many a ready hand—</span> -<span class="i0">Women who prayed, and men who strove</span> -<span class="i2">When prayers and work were vain;</span> -<span class="i0">For the sun rose over the awful void</span> -<span class="i2">And the silence of the main.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day the watchers paced the sands,</span> -<span class="i2">All day they scanned the deep,</span> -<span class="i0">All night the booming minute-guns</span> -<span class="i2">Echoed from steep to steep.</span> -<span class="i0">“Give up thy dead, O cruel sea!”</span> -<span class="i2">They cried athwart the space;</span> -<span class="i0">But only an infant’s fragile form</span> -<span class="i2">Escaped from its stern embrace.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only one little child of all</span> -<span class="i2">Who with the ship went down</span> -<span class="i0">That night when the happy babies slept</span> -<span class="i2">So warm in the sheltered town.</span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in the glow of the morning light,</span> -<span class="i2">It lay on the shifting sand,</span> -<span class="i0">As fair as a sculptor’s marble dream,</span> -<span class="i2">With a shell in its dimpled hand.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There were none to tell of its race or kin.</span> -<span class="i2">“God knoweth,” the pastor said,</span> -<span class="i0">When the wondering children asked of him</span> -<span class="i2">The name of the baby dead.</span> -<span class="i0">And so, when they laid it away at last</span> -<span class="i2">In the church-yard’s hushed repose,</span> -<span class="i0">They raised a stone at the baby’s head,</span> -<span class="i2">With the carven words, “God knows.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE MOUNTAIN ROAD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only a glimpse of mountain road</span> -<span class="i0">That followed where a river flowed;</span> -<span class="i0">Only a glimpse—then on we passed</span> -<span class="i0">Skirting the forest dim and vast.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I closed my eyes. On rushed the train</span> -<span class="i0">Into the dark, then out again,</span> -<span class="i0">Startling the song-birds as it flew</span> -<span class="i0">The wild ravines and gorges through.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, heeding not the dangerous way</span> -<span class="i0">O’erhung by sheer cliffs, rough and gray,</span> -<span class="i0">I only saw, as in a dream,</span> -<span class="i0">The road beside the mountain stream.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No smoke curled upward in the air,</span> -<span class="i0">No meadow-lands stretched broad and fair;</span> -<span class="i0">But towering peaks rose far and high,</span> -<span class="i0">Piercing the clear, untroubled sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet down the yellow, winding road</span> -<span class="i0">That followed where the river flowed,</span> -<span class="i0">I saw a long procession pass</span> -<span class="i0">As shadows over bending grass.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The young, the old, the sad, the gay,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose feet had worn that narrow way,</span> -<span class="i0">Since first within the dusky glade</span> -<span class="i0">Some Indian lover wooed his maid;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or silent crept from tree to tree—</span> -<span class="i0">Spirit of stealthy vengeance, he!</span> -<span class="i0">Or breathless crouched while through the brake</span> -<span class="i0">The wild deer stole his thirst to slake.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The barefoot school-boys rushing out,</span> -<span class="i0">An eager, crowding, roisterous rout;</span> -<span class="i0">The sturdy lads; the lassies gay</span> -<span class="i0">As bobolinks in merry May;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The farmer whistling to his team</span> -<span class="i0">When first the dawn begins to gleam;</span> -<span class="i0">The loaded wains that one by one</span> -<span class="i0">Drag slowly home at set of sun;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Young lovers straying hand in hand</span> -<span class="i0">Within a fair, enchanted land;</span> -<span class="i0">And many a bride with lingering feet;</span> -<span class="i0">And many a matron calm and sweet;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And many an old man bent with pain;</span> -<span class="i0">And many a solemn funeral train;</span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes, red against the sky,</span> -<span class="i0">An army’s banners waving high!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All mysteries of life and death</span> -<span class="i0">To which the spirit answereth,</span> -<span class="i0">Are thine, O lonely mountain road,</span> -<span class="i0">That followed where the river flowed!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>ENTERING IN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The church was dim and silent</span> -<span class="i2">With the hush before the prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">Only the solemn trembling</span> -<span class="i2">Of the organ stirred the air;</span> -<span class="i0">Without, the sweet, still sunshine;</span> -<span class="i2">Within, the holy calm</span> -<span class="i0">Where priest and people waited</span> -<span class="i2">For the swelling of the psalm.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slowly the door swung open,</span> -<span class="i2">And a trembling baby girl,</span> -<span class="i0">Brown-eyed, with brown hair falling</span> -<span class="i2">In many a wavy curl,</span> -<span class="i0">With soft cheeks flushing hotly,</span> -<span class="i2">Shy glances downward thrown,</span> -<span class="i0">And small hands clasped before her,</span> -<span class="i2">Stood in the aisle alone.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stood half abashed, half frightened,</span> -<span class="i2">Unknowing where to go,</span> -<span class="i0">While like a wind-rocked flower,</span> -<span class="i2">Her form swayed to and fro,</span> -<span class="i2">And the changing color fluttered</span> -<span class="i0">In the little troubled face,</span> -<span class="i2">As from side to side she wavered</span> -<span class="i0">With a mute, imploring grace.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was but for a moment;</span> -<span class="i2">What wonder that we smiled,</span> -<span class="i0">By such a strange, sweet picture</span> -<span class="i2">From holy thoughts beguiled?</span> -<span class="i0">Then up rose someone softly:</span> -<span class="i2">And many an eye grew dim,</span> -<span class="i0">As through the tender silence</span> -<span class="i2">He bore the child with him.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I—I wondered (losing</span> -<span class="i2">The sermon and the prayer)</span> -<span class="i0">If when sometime I enter</span> -<span class="i2">The “many mansions” fair,</span> -<span class="i0">And stand, abashed and drooping,</span> -<span class="i2">In the portal’s golden glow,</span> -<span class="i0">Our God will send an angel</span> -<span class="i2">To show me where to go!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A FLOWER FOR THE DEAD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You placed this flower in her hand, you say?</span> -<span class="i0">This pure, pale rose in her hand of clay?</span> -<span class="i0">Could she but lift her sealèd eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">They would meet your own with a grieved surprise!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She has been your wife for many a year,</span> -<span class="i0">When clouds hung low and when skies were clear;</span> -<span class="i0">At your feet she laid her life’s glad spring,</span> -<span class="i0">And her summer’s glorious blossoming.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her whole heart went with the hand you won;</span> -<span class="i0">If its warm love waned as the years went on,</span> -<span class="i0">If it chilled in the grasp of an icy spell,</span> -<span class="i0">What was the reason? I pray you tell!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You cannot? I can; and beside her bier</span> -<span class="i0">My soul must speak and your soul must hear.</span> -<span class="i0">If she was not all that she might have been,</span> -<span class="i0">Hers was the sorrow, yours the sin.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whose was the fault if she did not grow</span> -<span class="i0">Like a rose in the summer? Do you know?</span> -<span class="i0">Does a lily grow when its leaves are chilled?</span> -<span class="i0">Does it bloom when its root is winter-killed?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For a little while, when you first were wed,</span> -<span class="i0">Your love was like sunshine round her shed;</span> -<span class="i0">Then a something crept between you two,</span> -<span class="i0">You led where she could not follow you.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With a man’s firm tread you went and came;</span> -<span class="i0">You lived for wealth, for power, for fame;</span> -<span class="i0">Shut in to her woman’s work and ways,</span> -<span class="i0">She heard the nation chant your praise.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ah! you had dropped her hand the while;</span> -<span class="i0">What time had you for a kiss, a smile?</span> -<span class="i0">You two, with the same roof overhead,</span> -<span class="i0">Were as far apart as the sundered dead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You, in your manhood’s strength and prime;</span> -<span class="i0">She, worn and faded before her time.</span> -<span class="i0">’Tis a common story. This rose, you say,</span> -<span class="i0">You laid in her pallid hand to-day?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When did you give her a flower before?</span> -<span class="i0">Ah, well!—what matter when all is o’er?</span> -<span class="i0">Yet stay a moment; you’ll wed again.</span> -<span class="i0">I mean no reproach; ’tis the way of men.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I pray you think when some fairer face</span> -<span class="i0">Shines like a star from her wonted place,</span> -<span class="i0">That love will starve if it is not fed;</span> -<span class="i0">That true hearts pray for their daily bread.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THOU KNOWEST</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou knowest, O my Father! Why should I</span> -<span class="i2">Weary high heaven with restless prayers and tears?</span> -<span class="i0">Thou knowest all! My heart’s unuttered cry</span> -<span class="i2">Hath soared beyond the stars and reached Thine ears.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou knowest—ah, Thou knowest! Then what need,</span> -<span class="i2">O, loving God, to tell Thee o’er and o’er,</span> -<span class="i0">And with persistent iteration plead</span> -<span class="i2">As one who crieth at some closèd door?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Tease not!” we mothers to our children say—</span> -<span class="i2">“Our wiser love will grant whate’er is best.”</span> -<span class="i0">Shall we, Thy children, run to Thee alway,</span> -<span class="i2">Begging for this and that in wild unrest?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I dare not clamor at the heavenly gate,</span> -<span class="i2">Lest I should lose the high, sweet strains within;</span> -<span class="i0">O, Love Divine! I can but stand and wait</span> -<span class="i2">Till Perfect Wisdom bids me enter in!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WINTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my roses, lying underneath the snow!</span> -<span class="i0">Do you still remember summer’s warmth and glow?</span> -<span class="i0">Do you thrill, remembering how your blushes burned</span> -<span class="i0">When the Day-god on you ardent glances turned?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great tree, wildly stretching bare arms up to heaven,</span> -<span class="i0">Do you think how softly, on some warm June even,</span> -<span class="i0">All your young leaves whispered, all your birds sang low,</span> -<span class="i0">As with rhythmic motion boughs swayed to and fro?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">River, lying whitely in a frozen sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">Know you how your pulses used to throb and leap?</span> -<span class="i0">How you danced and sparkled on your happy way,</span> -<span class="i0">In the summer mornings when the world was gay?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear Earth, dumbly waiting God’s appointed time,</span> -<span class="i0">Are you faint with longing for the voice sublime?</span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in stony silence, does your great heart beat,</span> -<span class="i0">Listening in the darkness for the coming of His feet?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>FIVE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“But a week is so long!” he said,</span> -<span class="i2">With a toss of his curly head.</span> -<span class="i0">“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!—</span> -<span class="i0">Seven whole days! Why, in six you know</span> -<span class="i0">(You said it yourself—you told me so)</span> -<span class="i0">The great <span class="smcap">God</span> up in heaven</span> -<span class="i0">Made all the earth and the seas and skies,</span> -<span class="i0">The trees and the birds and the butterflies!</span> -<span class="i0">How can I wait for my seeds to grow!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“But a month is so long!” he said,</span> -<span class="i2">With a droop of his boyish head.</span> -<span class="i0">“Hear me count—one, two, three, four—</span> -<span class="i0">Four whole weeks, and three days more;</span> -<span class="i0">Thirty-one days, and each will creep</span> -<span class="i0">As the shadows crawl over yonder steep.</span> -<span class="i0">Thirty-one nights, and I shall lie</span> -<span class="i0">Watching the stars climb up the sky!</span> -<span class="i0">How can I wait till a month is o’er?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“But a year is so long!” he said,</span> -<span class="i2">Uplifting his bright young head.</span> -<span class="i0">“All the seasons must come and go</span> -<span class="i0">Over the hills with footsteps slow—</span> -<span class="i0">Autumn and winter, summer and spring;</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, for a bridge of gold to fling</span> -<span class="i0">Over the chasm deep and wide,</span> -<span class="i0">That I might cross to the other side,</span> -<span class="i0">Where she is waiting—my love, my bride!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“Ten years may be long,” he said,</span> -<span class="i2">Slow raising his stately head,</span> -<span class="i0">“But there’s much to win, there is much to lose;</span> -<span class="i0">A man must labor, a man must choose,</span> -<span class="i0">And he must be strong to wait!</span> -<span class="i0">The years may be long, but who would wear</span> -<span class="i0">The crown of honor, must do and dare!</span> -<span class="i0">No time has he to toy with fate</span> -<span class="i0">Who would climb to manhood’s high estate!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">“Ah! life is not long!” he said,</span> -<span class="i2">Bowing his grand white head.</span> -<span class="i0">“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven!</span> -<span class="i0">Seven times ten are seventy.</span> -<span class="i0">Seventy years! as swift their flight</span> -<span class="i0">As swallows cleaving the morning light,</span> -<span class="i0">Or golden gleams at even.</span> -<span class="i0">Life is short as a summer night—</span> -<span class="i0">How long, O <span class="smcap">God</span>! is eternity?”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>UNSOLVED</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis the old unanswered question! Since the stars together sung,</span> -<span class="i0">In the glory of the morning, when the earth was fair and young,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Man hath asked it o’er and over, of the heavens so far and high,</span> -<span class="i0">And from out the mystic silence never voice hath made reply!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet again to-night I ask it, though I know, O friend of mine,</span> -<span class="i0">There will come, to all my asking, never answering voice of thine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! how many times the grasses have grown green above thy grave,</span> -<span class="i0">And how many times above it have we heard the cold winds rave!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hast solved the eternal problem that the ages hold in fee;</span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost know what we but dream of; where we marvel, thou dost see.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is truth, and what is fable; what the prophets saw who trod</span> -<span class="i0">In their rapt, ecstatic visions up the holy mount of God!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not of these high themes I question—but, O friend, I fain would know</span> -<span class="i0">How beyond the silent river all the long years come and go!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where they are, our well-belovèd, who have vanished from our sight,</span> -<span class="i0">As the stars fade out of heaven at the dawning of the light;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How they live and how they love there, in the “somewhere” of our dreams;</span> -<span class="i0">In the “city lying four-square” by the everlasting streams!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the mystery of being! Which is better, life or death?</span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast tried them both, O comrade, yet thy voice ne’er answereth!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hast thou grown as grow the angels? Doth thy spirit still aspire</span> -<span class="i0">As the flame that soareth upward, mounting higher still, and higher?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the flush of early manhood all thy earthly days were done;</span> -<span class="i0">Short thy struggle and endeavor ere the peace of heaven was won.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But for us who stayed behind thee—oh! our hands are worn with toil,</span> -<span class="i0">And upon our souls, it may be, are the stains of earthly moil.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hast thou kept the lofty beauty and the glory of thy youth?</span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou see our temples whitening, smiling softly in thy ruth?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But for us who bear the burdens that you dropped so long ago,</span> -<span class="i0">All the cares you have forgotten, and the pains you missed, we know.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet—the question still remaineth! Which is better, death or life?</span> -<span class="i0">The not doing, or the doing? Joy of calm, or joy of strife?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Which is better—to be saved from temptation and from sin,</span> -<span class="i0">Or to wrestle with the dragon and the glorious fight to win?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! we know not, but God knoweth! All resolves itself to this—</span> -<span class="i0">That He gave to us the warfare, and to thee the heavenly bliss.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was best for thee to go hence in the morning of the day;</span> -<span class="i0">Till the evening shadows lengthen it is best for us to stay!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>QUIETNESS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I would be quiet, Lord,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor tease, nor fret;</span> -<span class="i0">Not one small need of mine</span> -<span class="i2">Wilt Thou forget.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am not wise to know</span> -<span class="i2">What most I need;</span> -<span class="i0">I dare not cry too loud</span> -<span class="i2">Lest Thou shouldst heed:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lest Thou at length shouldst say,</span> -<span class="i2">“Child, have thy will;</span> -<span class="i0">As thou hast chosen, lo!</span> -<span class="i2">Thy cup I fill!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What I most crave, perchance</span> -<span class="i2">Thou wilt withhold,</span> -<span class="i0">As we from hands unmeet</span> -<span class="i2">Keep pearls, or gold;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As we, when childish hands</span> -<span class="i2">Would play with fire,</span> -<span class="i0">Withhold the burning goal</span> -<span class="i2">Of their desire.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet choose Thou for me—Thou</span> -<span class="i2">Who knowest best;</span> -<span class="i0">This one short prayer of mine</span> -<span class="i2">Holds all the rest!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE DIFFERENCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only a week ago and thou wert here!</span> -<span class="i2">I touched thy hand, I saw thy dear, dark eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">I kissed thy tender lips, I felt thee near,</span> -<span class="i2">I spake, and listened to thy low replies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day what leagues between us! Hill and vale,</span> -<span class="i2">The rolling prairies and the mighty seas;</span> -<span class="i0">Gray forest reaches where the wild winds wail,</span> -<span class="i2">And mountain crests uplifted to the breeze!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So far thou art, who wert of late so near!</span> -<span class="i2">The stars we watched have changed not in the skies;</span> -<span class="i0">Still do thy hyacinth bells their beauty wear,</span> -<span class="i2">Yet half a continent between us lies!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But swift as thought along the “singing wires”</span> -<span class="i2">There flies a message like a bright-winged bird—</span> -<span class="i0">“All’s well! All’s well!” and ne’er from woodland choirs</span> -<span class="i2">By gladder music hath the air been stirred!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou, O thou, who but a week ago</span> -<span class="i2">Passed calmly out beyond our yearning gaze,</span> -<span class="i0">As some grand ship, all solemnly and slow,</span> -<span class="i2">Sails out of sight beyond the gathering haze—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, where art <i>thou</i>? In what far distant realm,</span> -<span class="i2">What star in yon resplendent fields of light,</span> -<span class="i0">On what fair isle that no rude seas may whelm,</span> -<span class="i2">Dost thou, O brother, find thy home to-night?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or art thou near us? There are those who say</span> -<span class="i2">That but a breath divides our world from thine;</span> -<span class="i0">A little cloud that may be blown away—</span> -<span class="i2">A gossamer veil than spider’s web more fine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dost thou, a shadowy presence, linger near</span> -<span class="i2">The happy paths that thou wert wont to tread,</span> -<span class="i0">Where woods were still, and shining brooks ran clear,</span> -<span class="i2">And waving boughs arched greenly overhead?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! be thou far or near, it is the same!</span> -<span class="i2">From thee there floats no message thro’ the air;</span> -<span class="i0">No glad “All’s well” comes to us in thy name</span> -<span class="i2">That we the joy of thy new life may share!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MY BIRTHDAY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My birthday!—“How many years ago?</span> -<span class="i2">Twenty or thirty?” Don’t ask me!</span> -<span class="i0">“Forty or fifty?”—How can I tell?</span> -<span class="i2">I do not remember my birth, you see!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is hearsay evidence—nothing more!</span> -<span class="i2">Once on a time, the legends say,</span> -<span class="i0">A girl was born—and that girl was I.</span> -<span class="i2">How can I vouch for the truth, I pray?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know I am here, but when I came</span> -<span class="i2">Let some one wiser than I am tell!</span> -<span class="i0">Did this sweet flower you plucked for me</span> -<span class="i2">Know when its bud began to swell?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How old am I? You ought to know</span> -<span class="i2">Without any telling of mine, my dear!</span> -<span class="i0">For when I came to this happy earth</span> -<span class="i2">Were you not waiting for me here?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A dark-eyed boy on the northern hills,</span> -<span class="i2">Chasing the hours with flying feet,</span> -<span class="i0">Did you not know your wife was born,</span> -<span class="i2">By a subtile prescience, faint yet sweet?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did never a breath from the south-land come,</span> -<span class="i2">With sunshine laden and rare perfume,</span> -<span class="i0">To lift your hair with a soft caress,</span> -<span class="i2">And waken your heart to richer bloom?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not one? O mystery strange as life!</span> -<span class="i2">To think that we who are now so dear</span> -<span class="i0">Were once in our dreams so far apart,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor cared if the other were far or near!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But—how old am I? You must tell.</span> -<span class="i2">Just as old as I seem to you!</span> -<span class="i0">Nor shall I a day older be</span> -<span class="i2">While life remaineth and love is true!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A RED ROSE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Rose, my red, red Rose,</span> -<span class="i2">Where has thy beauty fled?</span> -<span class="i0">Low in the west is a sea of fire,</span> -<span class="i0">But the great white moon soars high and higher,</span> -<span class="i2">As my garden walks I tread.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy white rose-sisters gleam</span> -<span class="i2">Like stars in the darkening sky;</span> -<span class="i0">They bend their brows with a sudden thrill</span> -<span class="i0">To the kiss of the night-dews soft and still,</span> -<span class="i2">When the warm south wind floats by.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the stately lilies stand</span> -<span class="i2">Fair in the silvery light,</span> -<span class="i0">Like saintly vestals, pale in prayer;</span> -<span class="i0">Their pure breath sanctifies the air,</span> -<span class="i2">As its fragrance fills the night.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But O, my red, red Rose!</span> -<span class="i2">My Rose with the crimson lips!</span> -<span class="i0">So bright thou wert in the sunny morn,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet now thou art hiding all forlorn,</span> -<span class="i2">And thy soul is in drear eclipse!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dost thou mourn thy lover dead—</span> -<span class="i2">Thy lover, the lordly Sun?</span> -<span class="i0">Didst thou see him sink in the glowing west</span> -<span class="i0">With pomp of banners above his rest?</span> -<span class="i2">He shall rise again, sweet one!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He shall rise with his eye of fire—</span> -<span class="i2">And thy passionate heart shall beat,</span> -<span class="i0">And thy radiant blushes burn again,</span> -<span class="i0">With the joy of rapture after pain</span> -<span class="i2">At the coming of his feet!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TWENTY-ONE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grown to man’s stature! O my little child!</span> -<span class="i2">My bird that sought the skies so long ago!</span> -<span class="i0">My fair, sweet blossom, pure and undefiled,</span> -<span class="i2">How have the years flown since we laid thee low!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What have they been to thee? If thou wert here</span> -<span class="i2">Standing beside thy brothers, tall and fair,</span> -<span class="i0">With bearded lip, and dark eyes shining clear,</span> -<span class="i2">And glints of summer sunshine in thy hair,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I should look up into thy face and say,</span> -<span class="i2">Wavering, perhaps, between a tear and smile,</span> -<span class="i0">“O my sweet son, thou art a man to-day!”—</span> -<span class="i2">And thou wouldst stoop to kiss my lips the while.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But—up in heaven—how is it with thee, dear?</span> -<span class="i2">Art thou a man—to man’s full stature grown?</span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou count time as we do, year by year?</span> -<span class="i2">And what of all earth’s changes hast thou known?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hadst not learned to love me. Didst thou take</span> -<span class="i2">Any small germ of love to heaven with thee,</span> -<span class="i0">That thou hast watched and nurtured for my sake,</span> -<span class="i2">Waiting till I its perfect flower may see?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is it to have lived in heaven always?</span> -<span class="i2">To have no memory of pain or sin?</span> -<span class="i0">Ne’er to have known in all the calm, bright days,</span> -<span class="i2">The jar and fret of earth’s discordant din?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy brothers—they are mortal—they must tread</span> -<span class="i2">Ofttimes in rough, hard ways, with bleeding feet;</span> -<span class="i0">Must fight with dragons, must bewail their dead,</span> -<span class="i2">And fierce Apollyon face to face must meet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, who would give my very life for theirs,</span> -<span class="i2">I cannot save them from earth’s pain or loss;</span> -<span class="i0">I cannot shield them from its griefs or cares;</span> -<span class="i2">Each human heart must bear alone its cross!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was God, then, kinder unto thee than them,</span> -<span class="i2">O thou whose little life was but a span?—</span> -<span class="i0">Ah, think it not! In all his diadem</span> -<span class="i2">No star shines brighter than the kingly man,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who nobly earns whatever crown he wears,</span> -<span class="i2">Who grandly conquers, or as grandly dies;</span> -<span class="i0">And the white banner of his manhood bears,</span> -<span class="i2">Through all the years uplifted to the skies!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What lofty pæans shall the victor greet!</span> -<span class="i2">What crown resplendent for his brow be fit!</span> -<span class="i0">O child, if earthly life be bitter-sweet,</span> -<span class="i2">Hast thou not something missed in missing it?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SINGING IN THE DARK</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O ye little warblers, flying fast and far</span> -<span class="i0">From the balmy south-land, where the roses are,</span> -<span class="i0">Robins red and blue-birds, do ye faint to see</span> -<span class="i0">How the chill snow-blossoms whiten shrub and tree?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the snowy valley cold the north winds sweep;</span> -<span class="i0">Mother earth, half-wakened, turns again to sleep;</span> -<span class="i0">Silent lies the river in an icy trance,</span> -<span class="i0">And the frozen meadows wait the sun’s hot glance.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dull and gray the skies are. Soft and blue were those</span> -<span class="i0">That so late above you bent at daylight’s close;</span> -<span class="i0">Do ye grieve, remembering all the balm and bloom,</span> -<span class="i0">All the warmth and sweetness of the starlit gloom?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do ye sadly wonder what strange impulse drew</span> -<span class="i0">All your flashing pinions the far ether through?</span> -<span class="i0">Do ye count it madness that so wide ye strayed</span> -<span class="i0">From the starry jasmine and the orange shade?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet this morn I heard ye singing in the dark,</span> -<span class="i0">Songs of such rare sweetness that the world might hark!</span> -<span class="i0">O ye blessed minstrels, silent not for pain,</span> -<span class="i0">God is in the heavens, and your sun shall shine again!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THOMAS MOORE <br /><br /><small><span class="smcap">May 28, 1779-1879</span></small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hush! O be ye silent, all ye birds of May!</span> -<span class="i0">Cease the high, clear trilling of your roundelay!</span> -<span class="i0">Be the merry minstrels mute in vale, on hill,</span> -<span class="i0">And in every tree-top let the song be still!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O ye winds, breathe softly! Let your voices die</span> -<span class="i0">In a low, faint whisper, sweet as love’s first sigh;</span> -<span class="i0">O ye zephyrs, blowing over beds of flowers,</span> -<span class="i0">Be ye still as dews are in the starry hours!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O ye laughing waters, leaping here and there,</span> -<span class="i0">Filling with sweet clamor all the summer air,</span> -<span class="i0">Can ye not be quiet? Hush, ye mountain streams,</span> -<span class="i0">Dancing to glad music from the world of dreams!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thou, mighty ocean, beating on the shore,</span> -<span class="i0">Bid thy angry billows stay their thunderous roar!</span> -<span class="i0">O ye waves, lapse softly, in such slumberous calm</span> -<span class="i0">As ye know when circling isles of crested palm!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bells in tower and steeple, be ye mute to-day</span> -<span class="i0">As the bell-flowers rocking in the winds of May!</span> -<span class="i0">Cease awhile, ye minstrels, though your notes be clear</span> -<span class="i0">As the strains that soar in heaven’s high atmosphere!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth, bid all thy children hearken—for a voice,</span> -<span class="i0">Sweeter than a seraph’s, bids their hearts rejoice;</span> -<span class="i0">Floating down the silence of a hundred years,</span> -<span class="i0">Lo! its deathless music thrills our listening ears!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis the voice our fathers loved so long ago,</span> -<span class="i0">Songs to which they listened warbling clear and low;</span> -<span class="i0">Hark, “Ye Disconsolate!” while the minstrel pure</span> -<span class="i0">Sings—“Earth has no sorrow that heaven cannot cure!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sings of love’s wild rapture triumphing o’er pain,</span> -<span class="i0">Glorying in giving, counting loss but gain;</span> -<span class="i0">Sings the warrior’s passion and the patriot’s pride,</span> -<span class="i0">And the brave, unshrinking, who for glory died—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sings of Erin smiling through a mist of tears;</span> -<span class="i0">Of her patient waiting all the weary years;</span> -<span class="i0">Sings the pain of parting, and the joy divine</span> -<span class="i0">When the bliss of meeting stirs the heart like wine;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sings of memories waking in “the stilly night;”</span> -<span class="i0">Of the “young dreams” fading in the morning light;</span> -<span class="i0">Of the “rose of summer” perishing too soon;</span> -<span class="i0">Of the early splendors waning ere the noon!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O thou tender singer! All the air to-day</span> -<span class="i0">Trembles with the burden of thy “farewell” lay;</span> -<span class="i0">Crowns and thrones may crumble, into darkness hurled,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet is song immortal; song shall rule the world!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A LAST WORD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where will it go to reach thine ears</span> -<span class="i2">My father, thou dost wear</span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere beyond the stars to-night</span> -<span class="i2">Thy crown of silver hair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Somewhere thou <i>art</i>. No wandering ghost</span> -<span class="i2">In vast, vague realms of space—</span> -<span class="i0">But thine own self, majestic, fair,</span> -<span class="i2">In thine appointed place.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By one long look thy soul replied</span> -<span class="i2">When last I cried to thee,</span> -<span class="i0">As thou wert drifting out of sight</span> -<span class="i2">Upon the unknown sea;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And well I know that thou wouldst turn</span> -<span class="i2">Even from joys divine,</span> -<span class="i0">If but thy listening ears could hear</span> -<span class="i2">One faltering word of mine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, knowing this, I cannot lay</span> -<span class="i2">My book upon thy knee,</span> -<span class="i0">Saying, “O father, once again</span> -<span class="i2">I bring my sheaves to thee!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>SONNETS</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span></p> -<h3><a name="sonnet_i" id="sonnet_i"></a>THE SONNET</h3> -<h4>I. TO A CRITIC</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“It is but cunning artifice,” you say?</span> -<span class="i2">“To it no throb of nature answereth?</span> -<span class="i2">It hath no living pulse, no vital breath,</span> -<span class="i0">This puppet, fashioned in an elder day,</span> -<span class="i0">Through whose strait lips no heart can cry or pray?”</span> -<span class="i2">O deaf and blind of soul, these words that saith!</span> -<span class="i2">If that thine ear is dull, what hindereth</span> -<span class="i0">That quicker ears should hear the bugles play</span> -<span class="i0">And the trump call to battle? Since the stars</span> -<span class="i2">First sang together, and the exulting skies</span> -<span class="i4">Thrilled to their music, earth hath never heard,</span> -<span class="i0">Above the tumult of her worldly jars,</span> -<span class="i2">Or loftier songs or prayers than those that rise</span> -<span class="i4">Where the high sonnet soareth like a bird!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4><a name="sonnet_ii" id="sonnet_ii"></a>II. TO A POET</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou who wouldst wake the sonnet’s silver lyre,</span> -<span class="i2">Make thine hands clean! Then, as on eagles’ wings,</span> -<span class="i2">Above the soiling touch of sordid things,</span> -<span class="i0">Bid thy soul soar till, mounting high and higher,</span> -<span class="i0">It feels the glow of pure celestial fire,</span> -<span class="i2">Bathes in clear light, and hears the song that rings</span> -<span class="i2">Through heaven’s high arches when some angel brings</span> -<span class="i0">Gifts to the Throne, on wings that never tire!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> -<span class="i0">It hath a subtile music, strangely sweet,</span> -<span class="i2">Yet all unmeet for dance or roundelay,</span> -<span class="i4">Or idle love that fadeth like a flower.</span> -<span class="i0">It is the voice of hearts that strongly beat,</span> -<span class="i2">The cry of souls that grandly love and pray,</span> -<span class="i4">The trumpet-peal that thrills the battle-hour!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AT REST</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“‘When Greek meets Greek,’ you know,” he sadly said,</span> -<span class="i2">“‘Then comes the tug of war.’ I deem him great,</span> -<span class="i2">And own him wise and good. Yet adverse fate</span> -<span class="i0">Hath made us enemies. If I were dead,</span> -<span class="i0">And buried deep with grave-mould on my head,</span> -<span class="i2">I still believe that, came he soon or late</span> -<span class="i2">Where I was lying in my last estate,</span> -<span class="i0">My dust would quiver at his lightest tread!”</span> -<span class="i2">The slow years passed; and one fair summer night,</span> -<span class="i0">When the low sun was reddening all the west,</span> -<span class="i2">I saw two grave-mounds, where the grass was bright,</span> -<span class="i0">Lying so near each other that the crest</span> -<span class="i2">Of the same wave touched each with amber light.</span> -<span class="i0">But, ah, dear hearts! how undisturbed their rest!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TOO WIDE!</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O mighty Earth, thou art too wide, to wide!</span> -<span class="i2">Too vast thy continents, too broad thy seas,</span> -<span class="i2">Too far thy prairies stretching fair as these</span> -<span class="i0">Now reddening in the sunset’s crimson tide!</span> -<span class="i0">Sundered by thee how have thy children cried</span> -<span class="i2">Each to some other, until every breeze</span> -<span class="i2">Has borne a burden of fond messages</span> -<span class="i0">That all unheard in thy lone wastes have died!</span> -<span class="i0">Draw closer, O dear Earth, thy hills that soar</span> -<span class="i2">Up to blue skies such countless leagues apart!</span> -<span class="i4">Bid thou thine awful spaces smaller grow!</span> -<span class="i0">Compass thy billows with a narrower shore,</span> -<span class="i2">That yearning lips may meet, heart beat to heart,</span> -<span class="i4">And parted souls forget their lonely woe!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MERCÉDÈS<br /><br />(<small>June 27, 1878</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O fair young queen, who liest dead to-day</span> -<span class="i2">In thy proud palace o’er the moaning sea,</span> -<span class="i2">With still, white hands that never more may be</span> -<span class="i0">Lifted to pluck life’s roses bright with May—</span> -<span class="i0">Little is it to you that, far away,</span> -<span class="i2">Where skies you knew not bend above the free,</span> -<span class="i2">Hearts touched with tender pity turn to thee,</span> -<span class="i0">And for thy sake a shadow dims the day!</span> -<span class="i0">But youth and love and womanhood are one,</span> -<span class="i2">Though across sundering seas their signals fly;</span> -<span class="i0">Young Love’s pure kiss, the joy but just begun,</span> -<span class="i2">The hope of motherhood, thy people’s cry—</span> -<span class="i2">O thou fair child! was it not hard to die</span> -<span class="i0">And leave so much beneath the summer sun?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>GRASS-GROWN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grass grows at last above all graves, you say?</span> -<span class="i2">Why, therein lies the sharpest sting of all!</span> -<span class="i2">To think that stars will rise and dews will fall,</span> -<span class="i0">Hills flush with purple splendor, soft winds play</span> -<span class="i0">Where roses bloom and violets of May,</span> -<span class="i2">Robin to robin in the tree-tops call,</span> -<span class="i2">And all sweet sights and sounds the senses thrall,</span> -<span class="i0">Just as they did before that strange, sad day!</span> -<span class="i2">Does that bring comfort? Are we glad to know</span> -<span class="i0">That our eyes sometime must forget to weep,</span> -<span class="i2">Even as June forgets December’s snow?</span> -<span class="i0">Over the graves where our belovèd sleep,</span> -<span class="i2">We charge thee, Time, let not the green grass grow,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor your relentless mosses coldly creep!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TO ZÜLMA</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes my heart grows faint with longing, dear—</span> -<span class="i2">Longing to see thy face, to touch thy hand.</span> -<span class="i2">But mountains rise between us; leagues of land</span> -<span class="i0">Stretch on and on where mighty lakes lie clear</span> -<span class="i0">In the far spaces, and great forests rear</span> -<span class="i2">Their sombre crowns on many a lonely strand!</span> -<span class="i2">Yet, O my fair child, canst thou understand,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou whose dear place was once beside me here,</span> -<span class="i0">How yet I dare not pray that thou and I</span> -<span class="i2">Again may dwell together as of old?</span> -<span class="i4">There is a gate between us, locked and barred,</span> -<span class="i0">Over which we may not climb; and standing nigh</span> -<span class="i2">Is the white angel Sorrow, who doth hold</span> -<span class="i4">The only key that may unlock its ward!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet think not I would have it otherwise!</span> -<span class="i2">Our God, who knoweth women’s hearts, knows best—</span> -<span class="i2">And every little bird must build its nest</span> -<span class="i0">From whence it soareth, singing, to the skies.</span> -<span class="i0">What though the one that thou hast builded lies</span> -<span class="i2">Where sinks the sun to its enchanted rest,</span> -<span class="i2">If, on each breeze that bloweth east or west,</span> -<span class="i0">To thee, on swiftest wing, my spirit flies?</span> -<span class="i0">We are not far apart, and ne’er shall be!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> -<span class="i2">For Love, like God, knoweth not time, nor space,</span> -<span class="i4">And it is freer than the viewless air;</span> -<span class="i0">And well I know, belovèd, that if we</span> -<span class="i2">Trod different planets in yon starry space</span> -<span class="i4">We should reach out, and find each other there!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SLEEP</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who calls thee “gentle Sleep?” O! rare coquette,</span> -<span class="i2">Who comest crowned with poppies, thou shouldst wear</span> -<span class="i2">Nettles instead, or thistles, in thine hair;</span> -<span class="i0">For thou ’rt the veriest elf that ever yet</span> -<span class="i0">Made weary mortals sigh and toss and fret!</span> -<span class="i2">Thou dost float softly through the drowsy air</span> -<span class="i2">Hovering as if to kiss my lips and share</span> -<span class="i0">My restless pillow; but ere I can set</span> -<span class="i2">My arms to clasp thee, without sign or speech,</span> -<span class="i2">Save one swift, mocking smile thou ’rt out of reach!</span> -<span class="i0">Yet, sometime, thou, or one as like to thee</span> -<span class="i2">As sister is to sister, shalt draw near</span> -<span class="i2">With such soft lullabies for my dull ear,</span> -<span class="i0">That neither life nor love shall waken me!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>IN KING’S CHAPEL<br /><br />(<small><span class="smcap">Boston</span>, November 3, 1878</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, Lord of Hosts, how sacred is this place,</span> -<span class="i2">Where, though the tides of time resistless flow,</span> -<span class="i2">And the long generations come and go,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou still abidest! In this holy space</span> -<span class="i0">The very airs are hushed before Thy face,</span> -<span class="i2">And wait in reverent calm, as voices low</span> -<span class="i2">Blend in the prayers and chantings, soft and slow,</span> -<span class="i0">And the gray twilight stealeth on apace.</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! There are whispers from the time-worn walls;</span> -<span class="i2">The mighty dead glide up the shadowy aisle;</span> -<span class="i4">And there are rustlings as of angels’ wings</span> -<span class="i0">While from the choir the heavenly music falls!</span> -<span class="i2">Well may we bow in grateful praise the while—</span> -<span class="i4">In the King’s Chapel reigns the King of Kings!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TO-DAY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">What dost thou bring to me, O fair To-day,</span> -<span class="i0">That comest o’er the mountains with swift feet?</span> -<span class="i0">All the young birds make haste thy steps to greet,</span> -<span class="i2">And all the dewy roses of the May</span> -<span class="i2">Turn red and white with joy. The breezes play</span> -<span class="i0">On their soft harps a welcome low and sweet;</span> -<span class="i0">All nature hails thee, glad thy face to meet,</span> -<span class="i2">And owns thy presence in a brighter ray.</span> -<span class="i0">But my poor soul distrusts thee! One as fair</span> -<span class="i2">As thou art, O To-day, drew near to me,</span> -<span class="i0">Serene and smiling, yet she bade me wear</span> -<span class="i0">The sudden sackcloth of a great despair!</span> -<span class="i0">O, pitiless! that through the wandering air</span> -<span class="i2">Sent no kind warning of the ill to be!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>F. A. F.</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When upon eyes long dim, to whom the light</span> -<span class="i2">Of sun and stars had unfamiliar grown—</span> -<span class="i2">Eyes that so long in deepening shades had known</span> -<span class="i0">The mystic visions of the inner sight—</span> -<span class="i0">Day broke, at last, after the weary night,</span> -<span class="i2">I cannot think its sudden glory shone</span> -<span class="i0">In pitiless brightness, dazzling, clear, and white—</span> -<span class="i2">A piercing splendor on the darkness thrown!</span> -<span class="i0">Softly as moonlight steals upon the skies,</span> -<span class="i2">Slowly as shadows creep at set of sun,</span> -<span class="i4">Gently as falls a mother’s tender kiss,</span> -<span class="i0">So softly stole the light upon his eyes;</span> -<span class="i2">So slowly passed the shadows one by one;</span> -<span class="i4">So gently dawned the morning of his bliss!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>DAY AND NIGHT</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I awake at morn, refreshed, renewed,</span> -<span class="i2">Glad with the gladness of the jocund day</span> -<span class="i2">And jubilant with all the birds of May,</span> -<span class="i0">My spirit shrinks from Night’s dull quietude.</span> -<span class="i0">With it and Sleep I have a deadly feud.</span> -<span class="i2">I hear the young winds in the maples play,</span> -<span class="i2">The river singing on its happy way,</span> -<span class="i0">The swallows twittering to their callow brood.</span> -<span class="i0">The fresh, fair earth is full of joyous life;</span> -<span class="i2">The tree-tops toss in billowy unrest;</span> -<span class="i4">The very mountain shadows are astir!</span> -<span class="i0">With eager heart I thrill to join the strife;</span> -<span class="i2">Doing, not dreaming, to my soul seems best,</span> -<span class="i4">And I am lordly Day’s true worshipper!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when with Day’s long weariness oppressed,</span> -<span class="i2">With folded hands I watch the sun go down,</span> -<span class="i2">Lighting far torches in the steepled town,</span> -<span class="i0">And kindling all the glowing, reddening west;</span> -<span class="i0">When every sleepy bird has sought its nest;</span> -<span class="i2">When the long shadows from the hills are thrown,</span> -<span class="i2">And Night’s soft airs about the world are blown,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou heart of mine, how sweet it is to rest!</span> -<span class="i0">O, Israfil! Thou of the tuneful voice!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span> -<span class="i2">It will be nightfall when thy voice I hear,</span> -<span class="i4">Summoning me to slumber soft and low!</span> -<span class="i0">Day will be done. Then will I not rejoice</span> -<span class="i2">That all my tasks are o’er and rest is near,</span> -<span class="i4">And, like a tired child, be glad to go?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THY NAME</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What matters it what men may call Thee, Thou,</span> -<span class="i2">The Eternal One, who reign’st supreme, alone,</span> -<span class="i2">The boundless universe Thy mighty throne?</span> -<span class="i0">When souls before Thee reverently bow,</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, carest Thou what name the lips breathe low</span> -<span class="i2">Jove, or Osiris, or the God Unknown</span> -<span class="i2">To whom the Athenians raised their altar stone,</span> -<span class="i0">Or Thine, O Holiest, unto whom we vow?</span> -<span class="i0">The sun hath many names in many lands;</span> -<span class="i2">Yet upon all its golden splendors fall,</span> -<span class="i4">Where’er, from age to age entreating still,</span> -<span class="i0">The adoring earth uplifts its waiting hands.</span> -<span class="i2">Love knows all names and answereth to all—</span> -<span class="i4">Who worships Thee may call Thee what he will!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>RESURGAMUS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What though we sleep a thousand leagues apart,</span> -<span class="i2">I by my mountains, you beside your sea?</span> -<span class="i2">What though our moss-grown graves divided be</span> -<span class="i0">By the wide reaches of a continent’s heart?</span> -<span class="i0">When from long slumber we at length shall start</span> -<span class="i2">Wakened to stronger life, exultant, free,</span> -<span class="i2">This mortal clothed in immortality,</span> -<span class="i0">Where shall I find my heaven save where thou art?</span> -<span class="i0">Straight as a bird that hasteth to its nest,</span> -<span class="i2">Glad as an eagle soaring to the light,</span> -<span class="i4">Swift as the thought that bears my soul to thine</span> -<span class="i0">When yon lone star hangs trembling in the west,</span> -<span class="i2">So straight, so glad, so swift to thee my flight,</span> -<span class="i4">Led on through farthest space by love divine!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AT THE TOMB</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Soul! rememberest thou how Mary went</span> -<span class="i2">In the gray dawn to weep beside the tomb</span> -<span class="i2">Where one she loved lay buried? Through the gloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Pallid with pain, and with long anguish spent,</span> -<span class="i0">Still pressed she on with solemn, high intent,</span> -<span class="i2">Bearing her costly gifts of rare perfume</span> -<span class="i2">And spices odorous with eastern bloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Unto the Master’s sepulchre! But rent</span> -<span class="i2">Was the great stone from its low door away;</span> -<span class="i0">And when she stooped to peer with startled eyes</span> -<span class="i2">Into the dark where slept the pallid clay,</span> -<span class="i0">Lo, it was gone! And there in heavenly guise,</span> -<span class="i2">So grandly calm, so fair in morn’s first ray,</span> -<span class="i0">She found an angel from the upper skies!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THREE DAYS</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What shall I bring to lay upon thy bier</span> -<span class="i2">O Yesterday! thou day forever dead?</span> -<span class="i2">With what strange garlands shall I crown thy head,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou silent One? For rose and rue are near</span> -<span class="i0">Which thou thyself didst bring me; heart’s-ease clear</span> -<span class="i2">And dark in purple opulence that shed</span> -<span class="i2">Rare odors round; wormwood, and herbs that fed</span> -<span class="i0">My soul with bitterness—they all are here!</span> -<span class="i0">When to the banquet I was called by thee</span> -<span class="i2">Thou gavest me rags and royal robes to wear;</span> -<span class="i4">Honey and aloes mingled in the cup</span> -<span class="i0">Of costly wine that thou didst pour for me;</span> -<span class="i2">Thy throne, thy footstool, thou didst bid me share;</span> -<span class="i4">On crusts and heavenly manna bade me sup!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art no dreamer, O thou stern To-day!</span> -<span class="i2">The dead past had its dreams; the real is thine.</span> -<span class="i2">An armored knight, in panoply divine,</span> -<span class="i0">It is not thine to loiter by the way,</span> -<span class="i0">Though all the meads with summer flowers be gay,</span> -<span class="i2">Though birds sing for thee, and though fair stars shine,</span> -<span class="i2">And every god pours for thee life’s best wine!</span> -<span class="i0">Nor friend nor foe hath strength to bid thee stay.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Gleaming beneath thy brows with smouldering fire</span> -<span class="i2">Thine eyes look out upon the eternal hills</span> -<span class="i4">As forth thou ridest with thy spear in rest.</span> -<span class="i0">From the far heights a voice cries, “Come up higher!”</span> -<span class="i2">And in swift answer all thy being thrills,</span> -<span class="i4">When lo! ’tis night—thy sun is in the west!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou, To-morrow! never yet was born</span> -<span class="i2">In earth’s dull atmosphere a thing so fair—</span> -<span class="i2">Never yet tripped, with footsteps light as air,</span> -<span class="i0">So glad a vision o’er the hills of morn!</span> -<span class="i0">Fresh as the radiant dawning—all unworn</span> -<span class="i2">By lightest touch of sorrow, or of care,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou dost the glory of the morning share</span> -<span class="i0">By snowy wings of hope and faith upborne!</span> -<span class="i0">O fair To-morrow! what our souls have missed</span> -<span class="i2">Art thou not keeping for us, somewhere, still?</span> -<span class="i4">The buds of promise that have never blown—</span> -<span class="i0">The tender lips that we have never kissed—</span> -<span class="i2">The song whose high, sweet strain eludes our skill—</span> -<span class="i4">The one white pearl that life hath never known!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>DARKNESS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, blessed Darkness, come, and bring thy balm</span> -<span class="i2">For eyes grown weary of the garish Day!</span> -<span class="i2">Come with thy soft, slow steps, thy garments gray,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy veiling shadows, bearing in thy palm</span> -<span class="i0">The poppy-seeds of slumber, deep and calm!</span> -<span class="i2">Come with thy patient stars, whose far-off ray</span> -<span class="i2">Steals the hot fever of the soul away,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy stillness, sweeter than a chanted psalm!</span> -<span class="i0">O blessed Darkness, Day indeed is fair,</span> -<span class="i2">And Light is dear when summer days are long,</span> -<span class="i0">And one by one the harvesters go by;</span> -<span class="i0">But so is rest sweet, and surcease from care,</span> -<span class="i2">And folded palms, and hush of evensong,</span> -<span class="i0">And all the unfathomed silence of the sky!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SILENCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O golden Silence, bid our souls be still,</span> -<span class="i2">And on the foolish fretting of our care</span> -<span class="i2">Lay thy soft touch of healing unaware!</span> -<span class="i0">Once, for a half hour, even in heaven the thrill</span> -<span class="i0">Of the clear harpings ceased the air to fill</span> -<span class="i2">With soft reverberations. Thou wert there,</span> -<span class="i2">And all the shining seraphs owned thee fair—</span> -<span class="i0">A white, hushed Presence on the heavenly hill.</span> -<span class="i0">Bring us thy peace, O Silence! Song is sweet;</span> -<span class="i2">Tuneful is baby laughter, and the low</span> -<span class="i4">Murmur of dying winds among the trees,</span> -<span class="i0">And dear the music of Love’s hurrying feet;</span> -<span class="i2">Yet only he who knows thee learns to know</span> -<span class="i4">The secret soul of loftiest harmonies.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SANCTIFIED</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A holy presence hath been here, and, lo,</span> -<span class="i2">The place is sanctified! From off thy feet</span> -<span class="i2">Put thou thy shoes, my soul! The air is sweet</span> -<span class="i0">Even yet with heavenly odors, and I know</span> -<span class="i0">If thou dost listen, thou wilt hear the flow</span> -<span class="i2">Of most celestial music, and the beat</span> -<span class="i2">Of rhythmic pinions. It is then most meet</span> -<span class="i0">That thou shouldst watch and wait, lest to and fro</span> -<span class="i0">Should pass the heavenly messengers and thou,</span> -<span class="i2">Haply, shouldst miss their coming. O my soul,</span> -<span class="i4">Count this fair room a temple from whose shrine,</span> -<span class="i0">Led by an angel, though we know not how,</span> -<span class="i2">Thy friend and lover dropped the cup of dole,</span> -<span class="i4">And passed from thy love to the Love Divine!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A MESSAGE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I bid thee sing the song I would have sung—</span> -<span class="i2">The high, pure strain that since my soul was born,</span> -<span class="i2">Clearer and sweeter than the bells of morn,</span> -<span class="i0">Through all its chambers hath divinely rung!</span> -<span class="i0">In thee let my whole being find a tongue;</span> -<span class="i2">Pluck thou the rose where I have plucked the thorn,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor leave the perfect flower to fade forlorn.</span> -<span class="i0">Youth holds the world in fee—and thou art young!</span> -<span class="i2">O my glad singer of the tuneful voice,</span> -<span class="i0">Where my wing falters be thou strong to soar,</span> -<span class="i2">Striking the deep, clear notes beyond my reach,</span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the plummet of a woman’s speech.</span> -<span class="i0">Sing my songs for me, and from some far shore</span> -<span class="i2">My happy soul shall hear thee and rejoice!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WHEN LESSER LOVES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When lesser loves by the relentless flow</span> -<span class="i2">Of mighty currents from my arms were torn</span> -<span class="i2">And swept, unheeding, to that silent bourn</span> -<span class="i0">Whose mystic shades no living man may know,</span> -<span class="i0">By night, by day, I sang my songs; and so,</span> -<span class="i2">Out of the sackcloth that my soul had worn,</span> -<span class="i2">Weaving my purple, I forgot to mourn,</span> -<span class="i0">Pouring my grief out in melodious woe!</span> -<span class="i0">Now am I dumb, dear heart. My lips are mute.</span> -<span class="i2">Yet if from yonder blue height thou dost lean</span> -<span class="i2">Earthward, remembering love’s last wordless kiss,</span> -<span class="i0">Know thou no trembling thrills of harp or lute,</span> -<span class="i2">Dying soft wails and tender songs between,</span> -<span class="i2">Were half so voiceful as this silence is!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>GEORGE ELIOT</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pass on, O world, and leave her to her rest!</span> -<span class="i2">Brothers, be silent while the drifting snow</span> -<span class="i2">Weaves its white pall above her, lying low</span> -<span class="i0">With empty hands crossed idly on her breast.</span> -<span class="i0">O sisters, let her sleep! while unrepressed</span> -<span class="i2">Your pitying tears fall silently and slow,</span> -<span class="i2">Washing her spotless, in their crystal flow,</span> -<span class="i0">Of that one stain whereof she stands confessed.</span> -<span class="i0">Are we so pure that we should scoff at her,</span> -<span class="i2">Or mock her now, low lying in her tomb?</span> -<span class="i2">God knows how sharp the thorn her roses wore,</span> -<span class="i0">Even what time their petals were astir</span> -<span class="i2">In the warm sunshine, odorous with perfume.</span> -<span class="i2">Leave her to Him who weighed the cross she bore!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>KNOWING</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One summer day, to a young child I said,</span> -<span class="i2">“Write to thy mother, boy.” With earnest face,</span> -<span class="i2">And laboring fingers all unused to trace</span> -<span class="i0">The mystic characters, he bent his head</span> -<span class="i0">(That should have danced amid the flowers instead)</span> -<span class="i2">Over the blurred page for a half-hour’s space;</span> -<span class="i2">Then with a sigh that burdened all the place</span> -<span class="i0">Cried, “Mamma knows!” and out to sunshine sped.</span> -<span class="i0">O soul of mine, when tasks are hard and long,</span> -<span class="i2">And life so crowds thee with its stress and strain</span> -<span class="i2">That thou, half fainting, art too tired to pray,</span> -<span class="i0">Drink thou this wine of blessing and be strong!</span> -<span class="i2">God knows! What though the lips be dumb with pain,</span> -<span class="i2">Or the pen drops? He knows what thou wouldst say.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A THOUGHT<br /><br />(<small>SUGGESTED BY READING<br />“A MIRACLE IN STONE”</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, thou supreme, all-wise, eternal One,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou who art Lord of lords, and King of kings,</span> -<span class="i2">In whose high praise each flaming seraph sings;</span> -<span class="i0">Thou at whose word the morning stars begun</span> -<span class="i0">With song and shout their glorious course to run;</span> -<span class="i2">Thou unto whom the great sea lifts its wings,</span> -<span class="i2">And earth, with laden hands, rich tribute brings</span> -<span class="i0">From every shore that smiles beneath the sun;</span> -<span class="i2">Thou who didst write thy name upon the hills</span> -<span class="i0">And bid the mountains speak for thee alway,</span> -<span class="i2">Yet gave sweet messages to murmuring rills,</span> -<span class="i0">And to each flower that breathes its life away—</span> -<span class="i2">Oh! dost thou smile, or frown, when man’s conceit</span> -<span class="i2">Seeks in this pile of stone the impress of thy feet?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TO-MORROW</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mysterious One, inscrutable, unknown,</span> -<span class="i2">A silent Presence, with averted face</span> -<span class="i2">Whose lineaments no mortal eye can trace,</span> -<span class="i0">And robes of trailing darkness round thee thrown,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the midnight hills thou comest alone!</span> -<span class="i2">What thou dost bring to me from farthest space,</span> -<span class="i2">What blessing or what ban, what dole, what grace,</span> -<span class="i0">I may not know. Thy secrets are thine own!</span> -<span class="i0">Yet, asking not for lightest word or sign</span> -<span class="i2">To tell me what the hidden fate may be,</span> -<span class="i0">Without a murmur, or a quickened breath,</span> -<span class="i0">Unshrinkingly I place my hand in thine,</span> -<span class="i2">And through the shadowy depths go forth with thee</span> -<span class="i0">To meet, as thou shalt lead, or life, or death!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, if I fear not thee, thou veilèd One</span> -<span class="i2">Whose face I know not, why fear I to meet</span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the everlasting hills her feet</span> -<span class="i0">Who cometh when all Yesterdays are done?</span> -<span class="i0">Shall I, who have proved thee good, thy sister shun?</span> -<span class="i2">O thou To-morrow, who dost feel the beat</span> -<span class="i2">Of life’s long, rhythmic pulses, strong and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">In the far realm that hath no need of sun—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Thou who art fairer than the fair To-day</span> -<span class="i2">That I have held so dear, and loved so much—</span> -<span class="i0">When, slow descending from the hills divine,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou summonest me to join thee on thy way,</span> -<span class="i2">Let me not shrink nor tremble at thy touch,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor fear to break thy bread and drink thy wine!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>“O EARTH! ART THOU NOT WEARY?”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Earth! art thou not weary of thy graves?</span> -<span class="i2">Dear, patient mother Earth, upon thy breast</span> -<span class="i2">How are they heaped from farthest east to west!</span> -<span class="i0">From the dim north, where the wild storm-wind raves</span> -<span class="i0">O’er the cold surge that chills the shore it laves,</span> -<span class="i2">To sunlit isles by softest seas caressed,</span> -<span class="i2">Where roses bloom alway and song-birds nest,</span> -<span class="i0">How thick they lie—like flecks upon the waves!</span> -<span class="i0">There is no mountain-top so far and high,</span> -<span class="i2">No desert so remote, no vale so deep,</span> -<span class="i4">No spot by man so long untenanted,</span> -<span class="i0">But the pale moon, slow marching up the sky,</span> -<span class="i2">Sees over some lone grave the shadows creep!</span> -<span class="i4">O Earth! art thou not weary of thy dead?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>ALEXANDER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There was a man whom all men called The Great.</span> -<span class="i2">Low lying on his death-bed, we are told,</span> -<span class="i2">He bade his courtiers (when he should be cold,</span> -<span class="i0">Breathless, and silent in his last estate,</span> -<span class="i0">And they who were to bury him should wait</span> -<span class="i2">Outside the palace) that no cerecloth’s fold</span> -<span class="i2">Or winding-sheet should round his hands be rolled:</span> -<span class="i0">Those helpless hands that once had ruled the state!</span> -<span class="i0">Thus spake he: “On the black pall let them lie,</span> -<span class="i2">Empty and lorn, that all the world may see</span> -<span class="i4">How of his riches there was nothing left</span> -<span class="i0">To Alexander when he came to die.”</span> -<span class="i2">Lord of two worlds, as treasureless was he</span> -<span class="i4">As any beggar of his crust bereft!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE PLACE<br /><br />“<small>I GO TO PREPARE A PLACE FOR YOU</small>”</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Holy Place, we know not where thou art!</span> -<span class="i2">Though one by one our well-beloved dead</span> -<span class="i2">From our close claspings to thy bliss have fled,</span> -<span class="i0">They send no word back to the breaking heart;</span> -<span class="i0">And if, perchance, their angels fly athwart</span> -<span class="i2">The silent reaches of the abyss wide-spread,</span> -<span class="i2">The swift white-wings we see not, but instead</span> -<span class="i0">Only the dark void keeping us apart.</span> -<span class="i0">Where did he set thee, O thou Holy Place?</span> -<span class="i2">Made he a new world in the heavens high hung,</span> -<span class="i4">So far from this poor earth that even yet</span> -<span class="i0">Its first glad rays have traversed not the space</span> -<span class="i2">That lies between us, nor their glory flung</span> -<span class="i4">On the old home its sons can ne’er forget?</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But what if on some fair, auspicious night,</span> -<span class="i2">Like that on which the shepherds watched of old,</span> -<span class="i2">Down from far skies, in burning splendor rolled,</span> -<span class="i0">Shall stream the radiance of a star more bright</span> -<span class="i0">Than ever yet hath shone on mortal sight—</span> -<span class="i2">Swift shafts of light, like javelins of gold,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> -<span class="i2">Wave after wave of glory manifold,</span> -<span class="i0">From zone to zenith flooding all the height?</span> -<span class="i0">And what if, moved by some strange inner sense,</span> -<span class="i2">Some instinct, than pure reason wiser far,</span> -<span class="i4">Some swift clairvoyance that annulleth space,</span> -<span class="i0">All men shall cry, with sudden joy intense,</span> -<span class="i2">“Behold, behold this new resplendent star—</span> -<span class="i4">Our heaven at last revealed!—the Place! the Place!”</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>III.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then shall the heavenly host with one accord</span> -<span class="i2">Veil their bright faces in obeisance meet,</span> -<span class="i2">While swift they haste the Glorious One to greet.</span> -<span class="i0">Then shall Orion own at last his Lord,</span> -<span class="i0">And from his belt unloose the blazing sword,</span> -<span class="i2">While pale proud Ashtaroth with footsteps fleet,</span> -<span class="i2">Her jewelled crown drops humbly at his feet,</span> -<span class="i0">And Lyra strikes her harp’s most rapturous chord.</span> -<span class="i0">O Earth, bid all your lonely isles rejoice!</span> -<span class="i2">Break into singing, all ye silent hills;</span> -<span class="i4">And ye, tumultuous seas, make quick reply!</span> -<span class="i0">Let the remotest desert find a voice!</span> -<span class="i2">The whole creation to its centre thrills,</span> -<span class="i4">For the new light of Heaven is in the sky!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TO A GODDESS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lift up thy torch, O Goddess, grand and fair!</span> -<span class="i2">Let its light stream across the waiting seas</span> -<span class="i2">As banners float upon the yielding breeze</span> -<span class="i0">From the king’s tent, his presence to declare.</span> -<span class="i0">And as his heralds haste to do their share,</span> -<span class="i2">Shouting his praise and sounding his decrees,</span> -<span class="i2">So let the waves in loftiest symphonies</span> -<span class="i0">Proclaim thy glory to the listening air!</span> -<span class="i0">Thou star-crowned one, the nations watch for thee,</span> -<span class="i2">For thee the patient earth has waited long—</span> -<span class="i4">To thee her toiling millions stretch their hands</span> -<span class="i0">From the far hills and o’er the rolling sea.</span> -<span class="i2">Lift up thy torch, O beautiful and strong,</span> -<span class="i4">A beacon-light to earth’s remotest lands.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>O. W. H.<br /><br />(<small>August 29, 1809</small>.)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“How shall I crown this child?” fair Summer cried.</span> -<span class="i2">“May wasted all her violets long ago;</span> -<span class="i2">No longer on the hills June’s roses glow,</span> -<span class="i0">Flushing with tender bloom the pastures wide.</span> -<span class="i0">My stately lilies one by one have died:</span> -<span class="i2">The clematis is but a ghost—and lo!</span> -<span class="i2">In the fair meadow-lands no daisies blow;</span> -<span class="i0">How shall I crown this Summer child?” she sighed.</span> -<span class="i0">Then quickly smiled. “For him, for him,” she said,</span> -<span class="i0">“On every hill my golden-rod shall flame,</span> -<span class="i0">Token of all my prescient soul foretells.</span> -<span class="i0">His shall be golden song and golden fame—</span> -<span class="i0">Long golden years with love and honor wed—</span> -<span class="i0">And crowns, at last, of silver immortelles!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>GIFTS FOR THE KING<br /><br />(<small>H. W. L., February 27th</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What good gifts can we bring to thee, O King,</span> -<span class="i2">O royal poet, on this day of days?</span> -<span class="i2">No golden crown, for thou art crowned with bays;</span> -<span class="i0">No jewelled sceptre, and no signet ring,</span> -<span class="i0">O’er distant realms far-flashing rays to fling;</span> -<span class="i2">For well we know thy beckoning finger sways</span> -<span class="i2">A mightier empire, and the world obeys.</span> -<span class="i0">No lute, for thou hast only need to sing;</span> -<span class="i0">No rare perfumes, for thy pure life makes sweet</span> -<span class="i2">The air about thee, even as when the rose</span> -<span class="i0">Swings its bright censer down the garden-path.</span> -<span class="i0">Love drops its fragrant lilies at thy feet;</span> -<span class="i2">Fame breathes thy name to each sweet wind that blows.</span> -<span class="i0">What can we bring to him who all things hath?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>RECOGNITION<br /><br />(<small>H. W. L.</small>)</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who was the first to bid thee glad all-hail,</span> -<span class="i2">O friend and master? Who with wingèd feet</span> -<span class="i2">Over the heavenly hills flew, fast and fleet,</span> -<span class="i0">To bring thee welcome from beyond the veil?</span> -<span class="i0">The mighty bards of old?—Thy Dante, pale</span> -<span class="i2">With high thoughts even yet, Virgil the sweet,</span> -<span class="i2">Old Homer, trumpet-tongued, and Chaucer, meet</span> -<span class="i0">To clasp thy stainless hand? What nightingale</span> -<span class="i0">Of all that sing in heaven sang first to thee?</span> -<span class="i2">Through all the hallelujahs didst thou hear</span> -<span class="i4">Spencer still pouring his melodious lays,</span> -<span class="i0">Majestic Milton’s clarion, strong and free,</span> -<span class="i2">Or, golden link between the far and near,</span> -<span class="i4">Bryant’s clear chanting of the eternal days?</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, but not these! not these! Even though apace,</span> -<span class="i2">Long rank on rank, with swift yet stately tread</span> -<span class="i2">They came to meet thee—the immortal dead—</span> -<span class="i0">Yet Love ran faster! All the lofty place,</span> -<span class="i0">All the wide, luminous, enchanted space</span> -<span class="i2">Glistened with Shining Ones who thither sped—</span> -<span class="i2">The countless host thy song had comforted!</span> -<span class="i0">What light, what love illumed each radiant face!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> -<span class="i0">The Rachels thou hadst sung to in the dark,</span> -<span class="i2">The Davids who for Absaloms had wept,</span> -<span class="i4">The fainting ones who drank thy balm and wine,</span> -<span class="i0">High souls that soared with thee as soars the lark,</span> -<span class="i2">Children who named thee, smiling, ere they slept—</span> -<span class="i4">These gave thee first the heavenly countersign!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SHAKESPEARE<br /><br />(<small>April 23, 1664-1889</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, Master, dare we speak? O mighty shade,</span> -<span class="i2">Sitting enthroned where awful splendors are,</span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the light of sun, or moon, or star,</span> -<span class="i0">How shall we breathe thy high name undismayed?</span> -<span class="i0">Poet, in royal majesty arrayed,</span> -<span class="i2">Walking with mute gods through the realms afar—</span> -<span class="i2">Seer, whose wide vision time nor death can bar,</span> -<span class="i0">We would but kiss thy feet, abashed, afraid!</span> -<span class="i0">But yet we love thee, and great love is bold.</span> -<span class="i2">Love, O our master, with his heart of flame</span> -<span class="i4">And eye of fire, dares even to look on thee,</span> -<span class="i0">For whom the ages lift their gates of gold;</span> -<span class="i2">And his glad tongue shall syllable thy name</span> -<span class="i4">Till time is lost in God’s unsounded sea!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TO E. C. S.<br /><br /><small>WITH A ROSE FROM CONWAY CASTLE</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On hoary Conway’s battlemented height,</span> -<span class="i2">O poet-heart, I pluck for thee a rose!</span> -<span class="i2">Through arch and court the sweet wind wandering goes;</span> -<span class="i0">Round each high tower the rooks, in airy flight,</span> -<span class="i0">Circle and wheel, all bathed in amber light;</span> -<span class="i2">Low at my feet the winding river flows;</span> -<span class="i2">Valley and town, entranced in deep repose,</span> -<span class="i0">War doth no more appall, nor foes affright!</span> -<span class="i0">Thou knowest how softly on the castle walls,</span> -<span class="i2">Where mosses creep, and ivys far and free</span> -<span class="i2">Fling forth their pennants to the freshening breeze,</span> -<span class="i0">Like God’s own benizon this sunshine falls.</span> -<span class="i2">Therefore, O friend, across the sundering seas</span> -<span class="i2">Fair Conway sends this sweet wild rose to thee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A CHRISTMAS SONNET</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wake at midnight from a slumber deep.</span> -<span class="i2">Hark! are the clear stars singing? Sweet and low,</span> -<span class="i2">As from far skies, floats music’s liquid flow,</span> -<span class="i0">Waking earth’s happy children from their sleep.</span> -<span class="i0">Now, from the bells a myriad voices leap,</span> -<span class="i2">And all the brazen lilies are aglow</span> -<span class="i2">With rapturous heart-beats, swinging to and fro</span> -<span class="i0">As the glad chimes their rhythmic pulsing keep.</span> -<span class="i0">O soul of mine, join thou the high refrain</span> -<span class="i2">That rings from shore to shore, from sea to sea,</span> -<span class="i2">Like song of birds that do but soar and sing!</span> -<span class="i0">O heart of mine, what room hast thou for pain?</span> -<span class="i2">With love and joy make holy symphony,</span> -<span class="i4">And keep to-day the birthday of thy King!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>POVERTY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The city woke. Down the long market-place</span> -<span class="i2">Her sad eyes wandered, but no tears they shed.</span> -<span class="i2">In her bare home a little child lay dead;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet she was here, with white, impassive face,</span> -<span class="i0">And hands that had no beauty and no grace,</span> -<span class="i2">Selling her small wares for a bit of bread!</span> -<span class="i2">Since they who live must eat though sore bestead</span> -<span class="i0">What time had she to weep—what breathing space?</span> -<span class="i0">Poor even in words, she had no fitting phrase</span> -<span class="i2">Wherein to tell the story of her dole,</span> -<span class="i0">But stood, like Niobe, a thing of stone,</span> -<span class="i0">Or mutely went on her accustomed ways,</span> -<span class="i2">Or counted her small gains, while her dumb soul,</span> -<span class="i0">Shut in with grief, could only make its moan!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SURPRISES</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Earth, that had so long in darkness lain,</span> -<span class="i2">Waiting and listening for the Voice that cried,</span> -<span class="i2">“Let there be light!”—on thy first eventide</span> -<span class="i0">What woe, what fear, wrung thy dumb soul with pain!</span> -<span class="i0">In darkling space down dropt the red sun, slain,</span> -<span class="i2">With all his banners drooping. Far and wide</span> -<span class="i2">Spread desolation’s vast and blackening tide.</span> -<span class="i0">How couldst thou know that day would dawn again?</span> -<span class="i4">But the long hours wore on, till lo! pale gleams</span> -<span class="i6">Of faint, far glory lit the eastern skies,</span> -<span class="i4">Broadening and reddening till the sun’s full beams</span> -<span class="i6">Broke in clear, golden splendor on thine eyes.</span> -<span class="i4">Darkness and brooding anguish were but dreams,</span> -<span class="i6">Lost in a trembling wonder of surprise!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Even so, O Life, all tremulous with woe,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou too didst cower when, without sound or jar,</span> -<span class="i2">From the high zenith sinking fast and far,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy sun went out of heaven! How couldst thou know</span> -<span class="i0">In that dark hour, that never tide could flow</span> -<span class="i2">So ebon-black, nor ever mountain-bar</span> -<span class="i2">Breast night so deep, without or moon or star,</span> -<span class="i0">But that the morning yet again must glow?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span> -<span class="i0">God never leaves thee in relentless dark.</span> -<span class="i2">Slowly the dawn on unbelieving eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Breaketh at last. Day brightens—and, oh hark!</span> -<span class="i2">A flood of bird-song from the tender skies!</span> -<span class="i0">From storm and darkness thou hast found an ark,</span> -<span class="i2">Shut in with this great marvel of surprise!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>C. H. R.<br /><br />(<small>LOST OFF HAI-MUN IN THE CHINA SEA</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In what wide Wonderland, or near, or far,</span> -<span class="i2">Press on to-day thy swift adventurous feet—</span> -<span class="i2">Thou who wert wont the Orient skies to greet</span> -<span class="i0">With song and laughter, and to climb the bar</span> -<span class="i0">Of mountain ranges where the Cloud-gods are,</span> -<span class="i2">With brave, glad steps, as eager and as fleet</span> -<span class="i2">As a young lover’s, who, on errand sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">Seeks the one face that is his guiding star?</span> -<span class="i0">The far blue seas engulfed thee, oh! my brother,</span> -<span class="i2">But could not quench thy spirit’s lofty fire,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor daunt the soul that knew not how to quail.</span> -<span class="i0">Earth-quest thou didst but barter for another,</span> -<span class="i2">Where Alps on Alps before thee still aspire,</span> -<span class="i2">And where, in God’s name, thou shalt yet prevail!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A NEW BEATITUDE<br /><br /><small>L. G. W.</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A new beatitude I write for thee,</span> -<span class="i2">‘<i>Blessed are they who are not sure of things</i>,’</span> -<span class="i2">Nor strive to mount on feeble, finite wings</span> -<span class="i0">To heights where God’s strong angels, soaring free,</span> -<span class="i0">Halt and are silent.” Ah, the mystery!</span> -<span class="i2">To-day, O friend, beyond earth’s reckonings</span> -<span class="i2">Of time and space, beyond its jars and stings,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou enterest where the eternal secrets be!</span> -<span class="i0">Ay, thou art sure to-day! No more the bars</span> -<span class="i2">Of earth’s poor limitations hold thee back,</span> -<span class="i2">Setting their bounds to thine advancing feet.</span> -<span class="i0">Soar, lofty soul, beyond the farthest stars,</span> -<span class="i2">Where hope nor yearning e’er shall suffer lack,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor knowledge fail to any that entreat!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>COMPENSATION</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life of my life, do you remember how,</span> -<span class="i2">At our fair pleasance gate, a stately tree</span> -<span class="i2">Kept silent watch and ward? Majestic, free,</span> -<span class="i0">Its head reached heaven, while its lowest bough</span> -<span class="i2">Swept the green turf, and all between was row</span> -<span class="i0">On row of crested waves—a sleeping sea—</span> -<span class="i0">Or heaving billows tossed tumultuously,</span> -<span class="i0">When the fierce winds that smote the mountain’s brow</span> -<span class="i0">Lashed it to sudden passion. It was old.</span> -<span class="i2">Storm-rocked for many centuries, it had grown</span> -<span class="i2">One with the hills, the river and the sod;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet young it was, with largess of red gold</span> -<span class="i2">For every autumn, and from stores unknown</span> -<span class="i2">Bringing each springtime treasure-trove to God.</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then came a night of terror and dismay,</span> -<span class="i2">Uproar and lightning, with the furious sweep</span> -<span class="i2">Of mighty winds, that raged from steep to steep,</span> -<span class="i0">And ere it passed the great tree prostrate lay!</span> -<span class="i0">Sleepless I mourned until the morning gray;</span> -<span class="i2">Then forth I crept, as one who goes to keep</span> -<span class="i2">Watch by his dead, too heartsick even to weep,</span> -<span class="i0">And hardly daring to behold the day.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! what vast splendor met my startled eyes,</span> -<span class="i2">What unimagined space, what vision wide!</span> -<span class="i2">Turrets and domes, now blue, now softest green,</span> -<span class="i0">In one unbroken circuit kissed the skies;</span> -<span class="i2">While, veiled in soft clouds, radiant as a bride,</span> -<span class="i2">Shone one far sapphire peak till then unseen!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>QUESTIONINGS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forth from earth’s councils thou hast passed, O friend,</span> -<span class="i2">To those high circles where God’s angels are,</span> -<span class="i2">Angels that need no light of sun or star!</span> -<span class="i0">No eye may follow thee as thou dost wend</span> -<span class="i0">Thy lofty way where heaven’s pure heights ascend—</span> -<span class="i2">Above the reach of earthly fret or jar,</span> -<span class="i2">Where no rude touch the blissful peace can mar,</span> -<span class="i0">Where all harsh sounds in one soft concord blend.</span> -<span class="i0">What have ye seen, O beauty-loving eyes?</span> -<span class="i2">What have ye heard, O ears attuned to hear</span> -<span class="i0">And to interpret heaven’s high harmonies?</span> -<span class="i0">What problems hast thou solved, thou who with clear</span> -<span class="i0">Undaunted gaze didst search the farthest skies?</span> -<span class="i2">And dost thou still love on, O heart most dear?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>REMEMBRANCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do remind me how, when, by a bier,</span> -<span class="i2">I looked my last on an unanswering face</span> -<span class="i2">Serenely waiting for the grave’s embrace,</span> -<span class="i0">One who would fain have comforted said: “Dear,</span> -<span class="i0">This is the worst. Life’s bitterest drop is here.</span> -<span class="i2">Impartial fate has done you this one grace,</span> -<span class="i2">That till you go to your appointed place,</span> -<span class="i0">Or soon or late, there is no more to fear.”</span> -<span class="i0">It was not true, my soul! it was not true!</span> -<span class="i2">“Thou art not lost while I remember thee,</span> -<span class="i2">Lover and friend!” I cry, with bated breath.</span> -<span class="i0">What if the years, slow-creeping like the blue,</span> -<span class="i0">Resistless tide, should blot that face from me?</span> -<span class="i2">Not to remember would be worse than death!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>IN THE HIGH TOWER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Safe in the high tower of thy love I wait,</span> -<span class="i2">Secure and still whatever winds may blow,</span> -<span class="i2">Although no more thy banners, bending low,</span> -<span class="i0">Salute me from afar, when, all elate,</span> -<span class="i0">I haste to meet thee at the postern-gate.</span> -<span class="i2">No more I hear thy trumpet’s eager flow</span> -<span class="i2">Through the far, listening silence come and go</span> -<span class="i0">To greet me where I bide in lonely state.</span> -<span class="i0">Thy King hath sent thee on some high emprise,</span> -<span class="i2">Some lofty embassage, some noble quest,</span> -<span class="i4">To a strange land whence cometh sound nor sign.</span> -<span class="i0">Yet evermore I lift my tranquil eyes,</span> -<span class="i2">Knowing that Love but doeth Love’s behest—</span> -<span class="i4">Afar or near, my dear lord still is mine!</span> -<span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span> -</div></div></div> -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> -<h2>AFTERNOON SONGS</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span></p> - -<h3>FOUR-O’CLOCKS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is mid-afternoon. Long, long ago</span> -<span class="i2">Each morning-glory sheathed the slender horn</span> -<span class="i2">It blew so gayly on the hills of morn,</span> -<span class="i0">And fainted in the noontide’s fervid glow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gone are the dew-drops from the rose’s heart—</span> -<span class="i2">Gone with the freshness of the early hours,</span> -<span class="i2">The songs that filled the air with silver showers,</span> -<span class="i0">The lovely dreams that were of morn a part.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet still in tender light the garden lies;</span> -<span class="i2">The warm, sweet winds are whispering soft and low;</span> -<span class="i2">Brown bees and butterflies flit to and fro;</span> -<span class="i0">The peace of heaven is in the o’erarching skies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here be four-o’clocks, just opening wide</span> -<span class="i2">Their many colored petals to the sun,</span> -<span class="i2">As glad to live as if the evening dun</span> -<span class="i0">Were far away, and morning had not died!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A DREAM OF SONGS UNSUNG</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whence it came I did not know,</span> -<span class="i0">How it came I could not tell,</span> -<span class="i0">But I heard the music flow</span> -<span class="i0">Like the pealing of a bell;</span> -<span class="i0">Up and down the wild-wood arches,</span> -<span class="i0">Through the sombre firs and larches,</span> -<span class="i0">Long I heard it rise and swell;</span> -<span class="i0">Long I lay, with half-shut eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in dreams of Paradise!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the wondrous music poured</span> -<span class="i0">Yet a fuller, stronger strain,</span> -<span class="i0">Till my soul in rapture soared</span> -<span class="i0">Out of reach of toil and pain!</span> -<span class="i0">Then, oh then, I know not how,</span> -<span class="i0">Then, oh then, I know not where,</span> -<span class="i0">I was borne, serene and slow,</span> -<span class="i0">Through the boundless fields of air—</span> -<span class="i0">Past the sunset’s golden bars,</span> -<span class="i0">Past long ranks of glittering stars,</span> -<span class="i0">To a realm where time was not,</span> -<span class="i0">And its secrets were forgot!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Land of shadows, who may know</span> -<span class="i0">Where thy golden lilies blow?</span> -<span class="i0">Land of shadows, on what star</span> -<span class="i0">In the blue depths shining far,</span> -<span class="i0">Or in what appointed place</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span> -<span class="i0">In the unmeasured realms of space,</span> -<span class="i0">High as heaven, or deep as hell,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost lie what tongue can tell?</span> -<span class="i0">Send from out thy mystic portals</span> -<span class="i0">With the holy chrism to-day,</span> -<span class="i0">One of all thy high immortals</span> -<span class="i0">Who shall teach me what to say!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O beloveds, all the air</span> -<span class="i0">Was a faint, ethereal mist</span> -<span class="i0">Touched with rose and amethyst—</span> -<span class="i0">Glints of gold, and here and there</span> -<span class="i0">Purple splendors that were gone,</span> -<span class="i0">Like the glory of the dawn,</span> -<span class="i0">Ere one caught them. Soft and gray,</span> -<span class="i0">Lit by many a pearly ray,</span> -<span class="i0">Were the low skies bending dim</span> -<span class="i0">To the far horizon’s rim;</span> -<span class="i0">And the landscape stretched away,</span> -<span class="i0">Fair, illusive, like a dream</span> -<span class="i0">Wherein all things do but seem!</span> -<span class="i0">There were mountains, but they rose</span> -<span class="i0">O’er the subtile vale’s repose,</span> -<span class="i0">Light as clouds that far and high</span> -<span class="i0">Soar to meet the untroubled sky.</span> -<span class="i0">There were trees that overhead</span> -<span class="i0">Wide their sheltering branches spread,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet were empty as the shade</span> -<span class="i0">By the quivering vine-leaves made.</span> -<span class="i0">There were roses, rich with bloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Swinging censers of perfume</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet as fragrant winds of May</span> -<span class="i0">Blowing through spring’s secret bowers;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet so phantom-like were they</span> -<span class="i0">That they seemed the ghosts of flowers.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the music sweet and strange</span> -<span class="i0">In that land’s enchanted range!</span> -<span class="i0">Like the pealing of the bells</span> -<span class="i0">When the brazen flowers are swinging</span> -<span class="i0">And the angelus is ringing,</span> -<span class="i0">Soaring, echoing, far and near,</span> -<span class="i0">Through the vales and up the dells—</span> -<span class="i0">Softly on the enraptured ear</span> -<span class="i0">A melodious murmur swells!</span> -<span class="i0">As the rhythm of the river</span> -<span class="i0">Day and night goes on forever,</span> -<span class="i0">So that pulsing stream of song</span> -<span class="i0">Rolls its silver waves along.</span> -<span class="i0">Even silence is but sound,</span> -<span class="i0">Deeper, softer, more profound!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All the portals were thrown wide!</span> -<span class="i0">Stretching far on either side</span> -<span class="i0">Ran the streets, like silver mist,</span> -<span class="i0">By the moon’s pale splendor kissed;</span> -<span class="i0">And adown the shadowy way,</span> -<span class="i0">Forth from many a still retreat,</span> -<span class="i0">One by one, and two by two,</span> -<span class="i0">Or in goodly companies;</span> -<span class="i0">Gliding on in long array,</span> -<span class="i0">Light and fleet, with silent feet,</span> -<span class="i0">One by one, and two by two,</span> -<span class="i0">Phantoms that I could not number,</span> -<span class="i0">Countless as the wraiths of slumber,</span> -<span class="i0">Passed before my wondering eyes!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I grew aware of one</span> -<span class="i0">Standing by me in the dun,</span> -<span class="i0">Gray half-twilight. All the place</span> -<span class="i0">Grew softly radiant; but his face,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Albeit unveiled, I could not see</span> -<span class="i0">For the awe that compassed me.</span> -<span class="i0">Swift I spoke, by longings swayed</span> -<span class="i0">Deeper than my words betrayed:</span> -<span class="i0">“Master,” with clasped hands I prayed,</span> -<span class="i0">“Who are these? Are they the dead?”</span> -<span class="i0">“Nay, they never lived,” he said;</span> -<span class="i0">“Whence art thou? How camest thou here?”</span> -<span class="i0">Low I answered, then, in fear:</span> -<span class="i0">“Sir, I know not; as I lay</span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming at the close of day,</span> -<span class="i0">Wondrous music, thrilling through me,</span> -<span class="i0">To this land of phantoms drew me,</span> -<span class="i0">Though I knew not how or why,</span> -<span class="i0">Even as instinct draws the bird</span> -<span class="i0">Where Spring’s far-off voice is heard.</span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, Master, where am I?”</span> -<span class="i0">“Thou art in the border-land,</span> -<span class="i0">On the farthest, utmost strand</span> -<span class="i0">Of the sea that lies between</span> -<span class="i0">All that is and is not seen.</span> -<span class="i0">Thou art where the wraiths of song</span> -<span class="i0">Come and go, a phantom throng.</span> -<span class="i0">’Tis their heart’s melodious beat</span> -<span class="i0">Fills the air with whispers sweet!</span> -<span class="i0">These, O child, are songs unsung—</span> -<span class="i0">Songs unbreathed by human tongue;</span> -<span class="i0">These are they that all in vain</span> -<span class="i0">Mightiest masters wooed amain—</span> -<span class="i0">Children of their heart and brain</span> -<span class="i0">That they could not warm to life</span> -<span class="i0">By their being’s utmost strife.</span> -<span class="i0">Every bard that ever sung</span> -<span class="i0">Since the hoary earth was young</span> -<span class="i0">Knew the song he could not sing</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Was his soul’s best blossoming,</span> -<span class="i0">Knew the thought he could not hold</span> -<span class="i0">Shrined his spirit’s purest gold.</span> -<span class="i0">Look!”</span> -<span class="i8">Where rose the city’s gate</span> -<span class="i0">In majestic, sculptured state,</span> -<span class="i0">From a far-off battle-plain,</span> -<span class="i0">Through the javelins’ silver rain</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing buckler, lance, and shield,</span> -<span class="i0">And their standard’s glittering field,</span> -<span class="i0">Eager, yet with shout nor din,</span> -<span class="i0">Came a great host trooping in.</span> -<span class="i0">Burned their eyes with martial fire,</span> -<span class="i0">And the glow of proud desire,</span> -<span class="i0">Such as gods and hero’s filled</span> -<span class="i0">When their mighty souls were thrilled</span> -<span class="i0">By old Homer’s golden lyre!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under dim cathedral arches</span> -<span class="i0">Pacing sad, pacing slow,</span> -<span class="i0">As to beat of funeral marches</span> -<span class="i0">Or to music’s rhythmic flow—</span> -<span class="i0">With their solemn brows uplifted,</span> -<span class="i0">And their hands upon their breasts,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the deepest shadows drifted,</span> -<span class="i0">One by one pale phantoms pressed.</span> -<span class="i0">Lost in dreams of heights supernal,</span> -<span class="i0">Mystic dreams of Paradise,</span> -<span class="i0">Or of woful depths infernal,</span> -<span class="i2">Slow they passed before mine eyes.</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, the vision’s pallid splendor!</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, the grandeur of their mien—</span> -<span class="i0">Kin, by birthright proud and tender,</span> -<span class="i0">To the matchless Florentine!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> -<span class="i0">In stately solitude,</span> -<span class="i0">Whereon might none intrude—</span> -<span class="i0">Majestic, grand and calm,</span> -<span class="i0">And bearing each the palm;</span> -<span class="i0">Dwelling, serene and fair,</span> -<span class="i0">In most enchanted air,</span> -<span class="i0">Where softest music crept</span> -<span class="i0">O’er harp-strings deftly swept,</span> -<span class="i0">And organ-thunders rolled</span> -<span class="i0">Like storm-winds through the wold,</span> -<span class="i0">They stood in strength sublime</span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the bounds of time—</span> -<span class="i0">They who had been a part</span> -<span class="i0">Of Milton’s mighty heart!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And where, mysterious ones,</span> -<span class="i0">Are Shakespeare’s princely sons,</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing in lavish hands</span> -<span class="i0">The spoil of many lands?</span> -<span class="i0">From castles lifted far</span> -<span class="i0">Against the evening star,</span> -<span class="i0">Where royal banners float</span> -<span class="i0">O’er rampart, tower, and moat,</span> -<span class="i0">And the white moonlight sleeps</span> -<span class="i0">Upon the Donjon keeps;</span> -<span class="i0">From fairy-haunted dells</span> -<span class="i0">Among the lonely fells;</span> -<span class="i0">From banks where wild thyme grows</span> -<span class="i0">And the blue violet blows;</span> -<span class="i0">From caverns grim, and caves</span> -<span class="i0">Lashed by the deep sea-waves;</span> -<span class="i0">From darkling forest shade,</span> -<span class="i0">From busy haunts of trade,</span> -<span class="i0">From market, court, and camp,</span> -<span class="i0">Where folly rings her bells,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Or sorrow tolls her knells,</span> -<span class="i0">Or where in cloister cells</span> -<span class="i0">The scholar trims his lamp—</span> -<span class="i0">Wearing the sword, the gown,</span> -<span class="i0">The motley of the clown,</span> -<span class="i0">The beggar’s rags, the dole</span> -<span class="i0">Of the remorseful soul,</span> -<span class="i0">The wedding-robe, the ring,</span> -<span class="i0">The shroud’s white blossoming,</span> -<span class="i0">O myriad-minded man,</span> -<span class="i0">Thus thine immortal clan</span> -<span class="i0">Passed down the endless ways</span> -<span class="i0">Of the eternal days!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then said I to my spirit:</span> -<span class="i0">“These are they who wore the crown;</span> -<span class="i0">Well the king’s sons may inherit</span> -<span class="i0">All his glory and renown.</span> -<span class="i0">Where are they—the songs unsung</span> -<span class="i0">By the humbler bards whose lyres</span> -<span class="i0">Through earth’s lowly vales have rung,</span> -<span class="i0">Like the notes of woodland choirs?</span> -<span class="i0">They whose silver-sandalled feet</span> -<span class="i0">Never climbed the clouds to meet?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where?—The air grew full of laughter</span> -<span class="i0">Low and sweet, and following after</span> -<span class="i0">Came the softest breath of singing</span> -<span class="i0">As if lily bells were ringing;</span> -<span class="i0">And from all the happy closes,</span> -<span class="i0">Crowned with daisies, crowned with roses,</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing woodland ferns for palm-boughs in their hands,</span> -<span class="i0">From the dim secluded places,</span> -<span class="i0">Through the wide enchanted spaces,</span> -<span class="i0">With their song-illumined faces</span> -<span class="i0">Swept the shadowy minstrel bands!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Songs unsung, the high and lowly,</span> -<span class="i0">Songs, the holy and unholy,</span> -<span class="i0">In that purest air grown wholly</span> -<span class="i0">Clean from every spot and stain!</span> -<span class="i0">And I knew as endless ages</span> -<span class="i0">Still were turning life’s full pages,</span> -<span class="i0">Each should find his own again—</span> -<span class="i0">Find the song he could not sing,</span> -<span class="i0">As his soul’s best blossoming!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>QUESTIONING A ROSE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was fair, it was sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">And it blossomed at my feet.</span> -<span class="i4">“O thou peerless rose!” I said,</span> -<span class="i4">“Art thou heir to roses dead—</span> -<span class="i4">Roses that their petals shed</span> -<span class="i0">In the winds of long ago?</span> -<span class="i0">Who bequeathed to thee the glow</span> -<span class="i4">Of thy perfect, radiant heart?</span> -<span class="i0">What proud queen of fire and snow</span> -<span class="i4">Lived to make thee what thou art?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who gave thee thy nameless grace</span> -<span class="i0">And the beauty of thy face,</span> -<span class="i4">Touched thy lips with fragrant wine,</span> -<span class="i4">Pledging thee in cups divine?</span> -<span class="i0">On some long-forgotten day,</span> -<span class="i0">When earth kept glad holiday,</span> -<span class="i4">One bright rose was born, I think,</span> -<span class="i4">Dewy, sweet, and soft and pink—</span> -<span class="i0">Born, more blest than others are,</span> -<span class="i0">To be thy progenitor!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the roses that have died</span> -<span class="i4">In the unremembered Junes!</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, the roses that have sighed</span> -<span class="i4">Unto long-forgotten runes!</span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou know their secrets dear?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Have they whispered in thine ear</span> -<span class="i4">Mysteries of the rain and dew,</span> -<span class="i4">And the sunshine that they knew?</span> -<span class="i0">Have they told thee how the breeze</span> -<span class="i0">Wooed them, and the amorous bees?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Silent, art thou? Thy repose</span> -<span class="i4">Mocks me, yet I fain would know</span> -<span class="i0">Art thou kin to one rare rose</span> -<span class="i4">Of a summer long ago?</span> -<span class="i0">It was sweet, it was fair;</span> -<span class="i0">Someone twined it in my hair,</span> -<span class="i4">When my young cheek, blushing red,</span> -<span class="i4">Shamed the roses, someone said.</span> -<span class="i0">Dust and ashes though it be,</span> -<span class="i0">Still its soul lives on in thee.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE FALLOW FIELD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sun comes up and the sun goes down;</span> -<span class="i0">The night mist shroudeth the sleeping town;</span> -<span class="i0">But if it be dark or if it be day,</span> -<span class="i0">If the tempests beat or the breezes play,</span> -<span class="i0">Still here on this upland slope I lie,</span> -<span class="i0">Looking up to the changeful sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Naught am I but a fallow field;</span> -<span class="i0">Never a crop my acres yield.</span> -<span class="i0">Over the wall at my right hand</span> -<span class="i0">Stately and green the corn-blades stand,</span> -<span class="i0">And I hear at my left the flying feet</span> -<span class="i0">Of the winds that rustle the bending wheat.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Often while yet the morn is red</span> -<span class="i0">I list for our master’s eager tread.</span> -<span class="i0">He smiles at the young corn’s towering height,</span> -<span class="i0">He knows the wheat is a goodly sight,</span> -<span class="i0">But he glances not at the fallow field</span> -<span class="i0">Whose idle acres no wealth may yield.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes the shout of the harvesters</span> -<span class="i0">The sleeping pulse of my being stirs,</span> -<span class="i0">And as one in a dream I seem to feel</span> -<span class="i0">The sweep and the rush of the swinging steel,</span> -<span class="i0">Or I catch the sound of the gay refrain</span> -<span class="i0">As they heap their wains with the golden grain.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, O my neighbors, be not too proud,</span> -<span class="i0">Though on every tongue your praise is loud.</span> -<span class="i0">Our mother Nature is kind to me,</span> -<span class="i0">And I am beloved by bird and bee,</span> -<span class="i0">And never a child that passes by</span> -<span class="i0">But turns upon me a grateful eye.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over my head the skies are blue;</span> -<span class="i0">I have my share of the rain and dew;</span> -<span class="i0">I bask like you in the summer sun</span> -<span class="i0">When the long bright days pass, one by one,</span> -<span class="i0">And calm as yours is my sweet repose</span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in the warmth of the winter snows.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For little our loving mother cares</span> -<span class="i0">Which the corn or the daisy bears,</span> -<span class="i0">Which is rich with the ripening wheat,</span> -<span class="i0">Which with the violet’s breath is sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">Which is red with the clover bloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Or which for the wild sweet-fern makes room.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Useless under the summer sky</span> -<span class="i0">Year after year men say I lie.</span> -<span class="i0">Little they know what strength of mine</span> -<span class="i0">I give to the trailing blackberry vine;</span> -<span class="i0">Little they know how the wild grape grows,</span> -<span class="i0">Or how my life-blood flushes the rose.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little they think of the cups I fill</span> -<span class="i0">For the mosses creeping under the hill;</span> -<span class="i0">Little they think of the feast I spread</span> -<span class="i0">For the wild wee creatures that must be fed:</span> -<span class="i0">Squirrel and butterfly, bird and bee,</span> -<span class="i0">And the creeping things that no eye may see.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lord of the harvest, thou dost know</span> -<span class="i0">How the summers and winters go.</span> -<span class="i0">Never a ship sails east or west</span> -<span class="i0">Laden with treasures at my behest,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet my being thrills to the voice of God</span> -<span class="i0">When I give my gold to the golden-rod.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>OUT AND IN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A ship went sailing out to sea,</span> -<span class="i2">A gallant ship and gay,</span> -<span class="i0">When skies were bright as skies could be,</span> -<span class="i2">One sunny morn in May.</span> -<span class="i4">The light winds blew,</span> -<span class="i4">The white sails flew,</span> -<span class="i2">The pennants floated far;</span> -<span class="i4">No stain I saw,</span> -<span class="i4">Nor any flaw,</span> -<span class="i2">From deck to shining spar!</span> -<span class="i0">And from the prow, with eager eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Hope gazed afar—to Paradise.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A ship came laboring in from sea,</span> -<span class="i2">One wild December night;</span> -<span class="i0">Ah! never ship was borne to lee</span> -<span class="i2">In sadder, sorrier plight!</span> -<span class="i4">Rent were her sails</span> -<span class="i4">By furious gales,</span> -<span class="i2">No pennants floated far;</span> -<span class="i4">Twisted and torn</span> -<span class="i4">And all forlorn</span> -<span class="i2">Were shuddering mast and spar!</span> -<span class="i0">But from the prow Faith’s steady eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Caught the near light of Paradise!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>HER FLOWERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Nay, nay,” she whispered low,</span> -<span class="i0">“I will not have these buds of folded snow,</span> -<span class="i4">Nor yet the pallid bloom</span> -<span class="i0">Of the chill tuberose, heavy with perfume,</span> -<span class="i4">Nor lilies waxen white,</span> -<span class="i0">To go with her into the grave’s dark night.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But now that she is dead</span> -<span class="i0">Bring ye the royal roses blushing red,</span> -<span class="i4">Roses that on her breast</span> -<span class="i0">All summer long, by these pale hands caressed,</span> -<span class="i4">Have lain in happy calm,</span> -<span class="i0">Breathing their lives away in bloom and balm!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Roses for all the joy</span> -<span class="i0">Of perfect hours when life had no alloy;</span> -<span class="i4">When hope was glad and gay,</span> -<span class="i0">And young Love sang his blissful roundelay;</span> -<span class="i4">And to her eager eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Each new day oped the gates of Paradise.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But, for that she hath wept,</span> -<span class="i0">And over buried hopes long vigil kept,</span> -<span class="i4">Bring mystic passion-flowers,</span> -<span class="i0">To tell the tale of sacrificial hours</span> -<span class="i4">When, lifting up her cross,</span> -<span class="i0">She bore it bravely on through pain and loss!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Then at her blessèd feet,</span> -<span class="i0">That never more shall haste on errands sweet,</span> -<span class="i4">Lay fragrant mignonette</span> -<span class="i0">And fair sweet-peas in dainty garlands set,—</span> -<span class="i4">Dear humble flowers, that make</span> -<span class="i0">Each passer-by the gladder for their sake!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">For she who lieth here</span> -<span class="i0">Trod not alone the high paths shining clear,</span> -<span class="i4">With light of star and sun</span> -<span class="i0">Falling undimmed her lofty place upon;</span> -<span class="i4">But stooped to lowliest ways,</span> -<span class="i0">Filling with fragrance all the passing days!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THREE LADDIES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sailors sailing north,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the wild white surges roar,</span> -<span class="i0">And fierce winds and strong winds</span> -<span class="i2">Blow down from Labrador—</span> -<span class="i0">Have you seen my three brave laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">My merry red-cheeked laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">Three bold, adventurous laddies,</span> -<span class="i2">On some tempestuous shore?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sailors sailing south,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the seas are calm and blue,</span> -<span class="i0">And light clouds and soft clouds</span> -<span class="i2">Are floating over you,</span> -<span class="i0">Say, have you seen my laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">My three bright, winsome laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">My brown-haired, smiling laddies,</span> -<span class="i2">With hearts so leal and true?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sailors sailing east,</span> -<span class="i2">Ask the sea-gulls sweeping by;</span> -<span class="i0">O sailors sailing west,</span> -<span class="i2">Ask the eagles soaring high,</span> -<span class="i0">If they have seen my laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">My careless, heedless laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">Three debonair young laddies,</span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the wide, wide sky?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sailors, if you find them,</span> -<span class="i2">Pray send them back to me;</span> -<span class="i0">For them the winds go sighing</span> -<span class="i2">Through every lonely tree—</span> -<span class="i0">For these three wandering laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">My tender, bright-eyed laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">The laughter-loving laddies,</span> -<span class="i2">Whom they no longer see.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are three men who love me,</span> -<span class="i2">Three men with bearded lips;</span> -<span class="i0">But oh! ye gallant sailors</span> -<span class="i2">Who sail the sea in ships—</span> -<span class="i0">In elf-land, or in cloud-land,</span> -<span class="i2">Or on the dreamland shore,</span> -<span class="i0">Can you find the little laddies</span> -<span class="i2">Whom I can find no more?</span> -<span class="i0">Three quiet, thoughtful laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">Three merry, winsome laddies,</span> -<span class="i0">Three rollicking, frolicking laddies,</span> -<span class="i2">On any far-off shore?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SUMMER, 1882<br /><br />R. W. E.</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Summer, thou fair laggard, where art thou?</span> -<span class="i2">In what far sunlit land of balm and bloom,</span> -<span class="i2">What slumbrous bowers of beauty and perfume,</span> -<span class="i0">Are roses crowning thine imperial brow?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where art thou, Summer? We should see thy feet</span> -<span class="i2">Even now upon the mountains. All the hills</span> -<span class="i2">Rise up to greet thee. Nature’s great heart thrills,</span> -<span class="i0">Faint with expectant joy. Where art thou, sweet?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Summer answered: “Lo! I wait! I wait!</span> -<span class="i2">To the far North I bend my listening ear;</span> -<span class="i2">By day, by night, my soul keeps watch to hear</span> -<span class="i0">One high, clear strain that rises soon nor late!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why should I haste where light and song have fled?</span> -<span class="i2">The ‘Woodnotes’ wake no more the Master’s lyre;</span> -<span class="i2">The ‘haughty day’ fills no ‘blue urn with fire’</span> -<span class="i0">When its great lover lieth cold and dead!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THORNLESS ROSES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“No rose may bloom without a thorn?”</span> -<span class="i2">Come down the garden paths and see</span> -<span class="i0">How brightly in the scented air</span> -<span class="i12">They bloom for you and me!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See how, like rosy clouds, they lie</span> -<span class="i2">Against the perfect, stainless blue!</span> -<span class="i0">See how they toss their airy heads,</span> -<span class="i12">And smile for me, for you!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No scanty largess, meanly doled—</span> -<span class="i2">No pallid blooms, by two, by three,</span> -<span class="i0">But a whole crowd of pink-white wings</span> -<span class="i12">Fluttering for you and me.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So fair they are I cannot choose;</span> -<span class="i2">I pluck the rich spoils here and there;</span> -<span class="i0">I heap them on your waiting arms;</span> -<span class="i12">I twine them in your hair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is no thorn among them all—</span> -<span class="i2">No sharp sting in the heart of bliss—</span> -<span class="i0">No bitter in the honeyed cup—</span> -<span class="i12">No burning in the kiss.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, quote the proverb if you must,</span> -<span class="i2">And mock the truth you will not see;</span> -<span class="i0">Nathless, Love’s thornless roses blow</span> -<span class="i12">Somewhere for you and me.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TREASURE-SHIPS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O beautiful, stately ships,</span> -<span class="i2">Ye come from over the seas,</span> -<span class="i0">With every sail full spread</span> -<span class="i2">To the glad, rejoicing breeze!</span> -<span class="i0">Ye come from the dusky East,</span> -<span class="i2">Ye come from the golden West,</span> -<span class="i0">As birds that out of the far blue sky</span> -<span class="i2">Fly each to its sheltered nest.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All spoils of the earth ye bring;</span> -<span class="i2">From the isles of far Cathay,</span> -<span class="i0">From the fabled shores of the Orient,</span> -<span class="i2">The realms of eternal day.</span> -<span class="i0">The prisoned light of a thousand gems,</span> -<span class="i2">The gleam of the virgin gold,</span> -<span class="i0">Lustre of silver, and sheen of pearl,</span> -<span class="i2">Shut up in the narrow hold.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shawls from the looms of Ispahan;</span> -<span class="i2">Ivory white as milk;</span> -<span class="i0">Shimmer of satin and rare brocade,</span> -<span class="i2">And fold upon fold of silk;</span> -<span class="i0">Gauzes that India’s maidens wear;</span> -<span class="i2">Spices, and rare perfumes;</span> -<span class="i0">Fruits that hold in their honeyed cups</span> -<span class="i2">The wealth of the summer blooms.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The blood of a thousand vines;</span> -<span class="i2">The cotton’s drifted snow;</span> -<span class="i0">The fragrant heart of the precious woods</span> -<span class="i2">That deep in the tropics grow;</span> -<span class="i0">The strength of the giant hills;</span> -<span class="i2">The might of the iron ore;</span> -<span class="i0">The golden corn, and the yellow wheat</span> -<span class="i2">From earth’s broad threshing-floor.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, O ye beautiful ships!</span> -<span class="i2">There are ships that come not back,</span> -<span class="i0">With flying pennant and swelling sail,</span> -<span class="i2">Over yon shining track!</span> -<span class="i0">Who can reckon their precious stores,</span> -<span class="i2">Or measure the might have been?</span> -<span class="i0">Who can tell what they held for us—</span> -<span class="i2">The ships that will ne’er come in?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>CHOOSING</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Meadow-sweet or lily fair—</span> -<span class="i2">Which shall it be?</span> -<span class="i0">Clematis or brier-rose,</span> -<span class="i2">Blooming for me?</span> -<span class="i0">Spicy pink, or violet</span> -<span class="i0">With the dews of morning wet,</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet peas or mignonette—</span> -<span class="i2">Which shall it be?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flowers in the garden-beds,</span> -<span class="i2">Flowers everywhere;</span> -<span class="i0">Blue-bells and yellow-bells</span> -<span class="i2">Swinging in the air;</span> -<span class="i0">Purple pansies, golden pied;</span> -<span class="i0">Pink-white daisies, starry-eyed;</span> -<span class="i0">Gay nasturtiums, deeply dyed,</span> -<span class="i2">Climbing everywhere!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the roses darkly red—</span> -<span class="i2">See, how they burn!</span> -<span class="i0">Glows with all the summer heat</span> -<span class="i2">Each crimson urn.</span> -<span class="i0">Bridal roses pure as snow,</span> -<span class="i0">Yellow roses all a-blow,</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet blush-roses drooping low,</span> -<span class="i2">Wheresoe’er I turn!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life is so full, so sweet—</span> -<span class="i2">How can I choose?</span> -<span class="i0">If I gather <i>this</i> rose,</span> -<span class="i2"><i>That</i> I must lose!</span> -<span class="i0">All are not for me to wear;</span> -<span class="i0">I can only have my share;</span> -<span class="i0">Thorns are hiding here and there;</span> -<span class="i2">How can I choose?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>NOT MINE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not mine to run</span> -<span class="i2">With eager feet</span> -<span class="i0">Along life’s crowded ways,</span> -<span class="i2">My Lord to meet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not mine to pour</span> -<span class="i2">The oil and wine,</span> -<span class="i0">Or bring the purple robe</span> -<span class="i2">And linen fine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not mine to break</span> -<span class="i2">At his dear feet</span> -<span class="i0">The alabaster-box</span> -<span class="i2">Of ointment sweet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not mine to bear</span> -<span class="i2">heavy cross,</span> -<span class="i0">Or suffer, for his sake,</span> -<span class="i2">All pain and loss.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is not mine to walk</span> -<span class="i2">Through valleys dim,</span> -<span class="i0">Or climb far mountain-heights</span> -<span class="i2">Alone with him.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He hath no need of me</span> -<span class="i2">In grand affairs,</span> -<span class="i0">Where fields are lost, or crowns</span> -<span class="i2">Won unawares.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, Master, if I may</span> -<span class="i2">Make one pale flower</span> -<span class="i0">Bloom brighter, for thy sake,</span> -<span class="i2">Through one short hour;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I, in harvest-fields</span> -<span class="i2">Where strong ones reap,</span> -<span class="i0">May bind one golden sheaf</span> -<span class="i2">For Love to keep;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">May speak one quiet word</span> -<span class="i2">When all is still,</span> -<span class="i0">Helping some fainting heart</span> -<span class="i2">To bear thy will;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or sing one high, clear song,</span> -<span class="i2">On which may soar</span> -<span class="i0">Some glad soul heavenward,</span> -<span class="i2">I ask no more!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE CHAMBER OF SILENCE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">One autumn day we three,</span> -<span class="i0">Who long had borne each other company—</span> -<span class="i6">Grief, and my Heart, and I—</span> -<span class="i0">Walked out beneath a dull and leaden sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">The fields were bare and brown;</span> -<span class="i0">From the still trees the dead leaves fluttered down;</span> -<span class="i6">There were no birds to sing,</span> -<span class="i0">Or cleave the air on swift, rejoicing wing.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">We sought the barren sand</span> -<span class="i0">Beside the moaning sea, and, hand in hand,</span> -<span class="i6">Paced its slow length, and talked</span> -<span class="i0">Of our supremest sorrows as we walked.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Slow shaking each bowed head,</span> -<span class="i0">“There is no anguish like to ours,” we said;</span> -<span class="i6">“The glancing eyes of morn</span> -<span class="i0">Fall on no souls more utterly forlorn.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">But suddenly, across</span> -<span class="i0">A narrow fiord wherein wild billows toss,</span> -<span class="i6">We saw before our eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">High hung above the tide, a temple rise—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">A temple wondrous fair,</span> -<span class="i0">Lifting its shining turrets in the air,</span> -<span class="i6">All touched with golden gleams,</span> -<span class="i0">Like the bright miracles we see in dreams.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Grief turned and looked at me.</span> -<span class="i0">“We must go thither, O my friends,” said she;</span> -<span class="i6">Then, saying nothing more,</span> -<span class="i0">With rapid, gliding step passed on before.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">And we—my Heart and I—</span> -<span class="i0">Where Grief went, we went, following silently,</span> -<span class="i6">Till in sweet solitude</span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the temple’s vaulted roof we stood.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">’Twas like a hollow pearl—</span> -<span class="i0">A vast white sacred chamber, where the whirl</span> -<span class="i6">Of passion stirred not, where</span> -<span class="i0">A luminous splendor trembled in the air.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">“O friends, I know this place,”</span> -<span class="i0">Said Grief at last, “this lofty, silent space,</span> -<span class="i6">Where, either soon or late,</span> -<span class="i0">I and my kindred all shall lie in state.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">“But do Griefs die?” I cried.</span> -<span class="i0">“Some die—not all,” full calmly she replied.</span> -<span class="i6">“Yet all at last will lie</span> -<span class="i0">In this fair chamber, slumbering quietly.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Chamber of Silence, this;</span> -<span class="i0">Who brings his Grief here doth not go amiss.</span> -<span class="i6">Mine hour hath come. We three</span> -<span class="i0">Will walk, O friends, no more in company.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Then was I dumb. My Heart</span> -<span class="i0">And I—how could we with our dear Grief part,</span> -<span class="i6">Who for so many a day</span> -<span class="i0">Had walked beside us in our lonely way?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">But she, with matchless grace,</span> -<span class="i0">And a sweet smile upon her tear-wet face,</span> -<span class="i6">Said, “Leave me here to sleep,</span> -<span class="i0">Where every Grief forgets at last to weep.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">What could we do but go?</span> -<span class="i0">We turned with slow, reluctant feet, but lo!</span> -<span class="i6">The pearly door had closed,</span> -<span class="i0">Shutting us in where all the Griefs reposed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">“Nay, go not back,” she said;</span> -<span class="i0">“Retrace no steps. Go farther on instead.”</span> -<span class="i6">Then, on the other side,</span> -<span class="i0">On noiseless hinge another door swung wide,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Through which we onward passed</span> -<span class="i0">Into a chamber lowlier than the last,</span> -<span class="i6">But, oh! so sweet and calm</span> -<span class="i0">That the hushed air was like a holy psalm.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">“Chamber of Peace” was writ</span> -<span class="i0">Where the low vaulted roof arched over it.</span> -<span class="i6">Then knew we Grief must cease</span> -<span class="i0">When sacred Silence leadeth unto Peace.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THREE ROSES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, shall it be a red rose, a red rose, a red rose,</span> -<span class="i4">A deep-tinted red rose?” said she.</span> -<span class="i8">“In the sunny garden closes,</span> -<span class="i8">How they burn, the dark-red roses,</span> -<span class="i0">How they lift up their glowing cups to me!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, shall it be a blush rose, a blush rose, a blush rose,</span> -<span class="i4">A dewy, dainty blush rose?” said she.</span> -<span class="i8">“At its heart a flush so tender,</span> -<span class="i8">With what veiled and softened splendor</span> -<span class="i0">Droopeth now its languid head toward me!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, shall it be a white rose, a white rose, a white rose,</span> -<span class="i4">A fair and fragrant white rose?” said she.</span> -<span class="i8">“With its pale cheek tinted faintly,</span> -<span class="i8">’Tis a vestal, pure and saintly,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet its silver lamp is shining now for me!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>FOUR LETTERS<br /><br />(<small>INSCRIBED TO OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES</small>)</h3> - -<p class="blockquot">[In an old almanac of the year 1809, against the date August 29th, -there is this record, “Son b.” The sand that was thrown upon the -fresh ink seventy years ago can still be seen upon the page.]</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Four letters on a yellow page</span> -<span class="i2">Writ when the century was young;</span> -<span class="i0">A few small grains of shining sand</span> -<span class="i2">Across it lightly flung!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A child was born—child nameless yet;</span> -<span class="i2">A son to love till life was o’er;</span> -<span class="i0">But did no strange, sweet prescience stir,</span> -<span class="i2">Teaching of something more?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy son! O father, hadst thou known</span> -<span class="i2">What now the wide world knows of him,</span> -<span class="i0">How had thy pulses thrilled with joy,</span> -<span class="i2">How had thine eye grown dim!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Couldst thou, through all the swift, bright years,</span> -<span class="i2">Have looked, with glad, far-reaching gaze,</span> -<span class="i0">And seen him as he stands to-day,</span> -<span class="i2">Crowned with unfading bays—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While Love’s red roses at his feet</span> -<span class="i2">Pour all their wealth of rare perfume,</span> -<span class="i0">And Truth’s white lilies, pure as snow,</span> -<span class="i2">His lofty way illume—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How had thy heart’s strong throbbing shook</span> -<span class="i2">The eager pen, the firm right hand,</span> -<span class="i0">That threw upon this record quaint</span> -<span class="i2">These grains of glittering sand!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O irony of Time and Fate!</span> -<span class="i2">That saves and loses, makes and mars,</span> -<span class="i0">Keeps the small dust upon the scales,</span> -<span class="i2">And blotteth out the stars!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Kingdoms and thrones have passed away;</span> -<span class="i2">Conquerors have fallen, empires died,</span> -<span class="i0">And countless sons of men gone down</span> -<span class="i2">Beneath War’s crimson tide.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The whole wide earth has changed its face;</span> -<span class="i2">Nations clasp hands across the seas;</span> -<span class="i0">They speak, and winds and waves repeat</span> -<span class="i2">The mighty symphonies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mountains have bowed their haughty crests,</span> -<span class="i2">And opened wide their ponderous doors;</span> -<span class="i0">The sea hath gathered in its dead,</span> -<span class="i2">Love-wept on alien shores.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Proud cities, wrapped in fire and flame,</span> -<span class="i2">Have challenged all the slumbering land;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet neither Time nor Change has touched</span> -<span class="i2">These few bright grains of sand!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>VALDEMAR</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Within a city quaint and old,</span> -<span class="i0">When reigned King Alcinor the Bold,</span> -<span class="i0">There dwelt a sculptor whose renown</span> -<span class="i0">With pride and wonder filled the town.</span> -<span class="i0">And yet he had not reached his prime;</span> -<span class="i0">The first warm glow of summer-time</span> -<span class="i0">Had but just touched his radiant face,</span> -<span class="i0">And moulded to a statelier grace</span> -<span class="i0">The stalwart form that trod the earth</span> -<span class="i0">As it had been of princely birth.</span> -<span class="i0">So fair, so strong, so brave was he,</span> -<span class="i0">With such a sense of mastery,</span> -<span class="i0">That Alcinor upon his throne</span> -<span class="i0">No kinglier gifts from life could own</span> -<span class="i0">Than those it brought from near and far</span> -<span class="i0">To the young sculptor, Valdemar!</span> -<span class="i0">Mayhap he was not rich—for Fame,</span> -<span class="i0">To lend its magic to his name,</span> -<span class="i0">Had outrun Fortune’s swiftest pace</span> -<span class="i0">And conquered in the friendly race.</span> -<span class="i0">But a fair home was his, where bees</span> -<span class="i0">Hummed in the laden mulberry-trees;</span> -<span class="i0">Where cyclamens, with rosy flush,</span> -<span class="i0">Brightened the lingering twilight hush,</span> -<span class="i0">And the gladiolus’ fiery plume</span> -<span class="i0">Mocked the red rose’s brilliant bloom;</span> -<span class="i0">Where violet and wind-flower hid</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> -<span class="i0">The acacia’s golden gloom amid;</span> -<span class="i0">Where starry jasmines climbed, and where,</span> -<span class="i0">Serenely calm, divinely fair,</span> -<span class="i0">Like a white lily, straight and tall,</span> -<span class="i0">The loveliest flower among them all,</span> -<span class="i0">His sweet young wife, Hermione,</span> -<span class="i0">Sang to the child upon her knee!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here beauteous visions haunted him,</span> -<span class="i0">Peopling the shadows soft and dim;</span> -<span class="i0">Here the old gods around him cast</span> -<span class="i0">The glamour of their splendors past.</span> -<span class="i0">Jove thundered from the awful sky;</span> -<span class="i0">Proud Juno trod the earth once more;</span> -<span class="i0">Pale Isis, veiled in mystery,</span> -<span class="i0">Her smile of mystic meaning wore;</span> -<span class="i0">Apollo joyed in youth divine,</span> -<span class="i0">And Bacchus wreathed the fragrant vine.</span> -<span class="i0">Here chaste Diana, crescent-crowned,</span> -<span class="i0">With virgin footsteps spurned the ground;</span> -<span class="i0">Here rose fair Venus from the sea,</span> -<span class="i0">And that sad ghost, Persephone,</span> -<span class="i0">Wandered, a very shade of shades,</span> -<span class="i0">Amid the moonlit myrtle glades.</span> -<span class="i0">Nor they alone. The Heavenly Child,</span> -<span class="i0">The Holy Mother, meek and mild,</span> -<span class="i0">Angels on glad wing soaring free,</span> -<span class="i0">Pale, praying saints on bended knee,</span> -<span class="i0">Martyrs with palms, and heroes brave</span> -<span class="i0">Who for their guerdon won a grave,</span> -<span class="i0">Earth’s laughing children, rosy sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">And the soul’s phantoms, fair and fleet—</span> -<span class="i0">All these were with him night and day,</span> -<span class="i0">Charming the happy hours away!</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, who so rich as Valdemar?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> -<span class="i0">What ill his joyous life can mar?</span> -<span class="i0">With home and glorious visions blest,</span> -<span class="i0">Glad in the work he loveth best!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Love’s clear eyes are quick to see;</span> -<span class="i0">And one fair spring, Hermione.</span> -<span class="i0">Sitting beneath her mulberry-tree</span> -<span class="i0">With her young children at her knee,</span> -<span class="i0">Saw Valdemar from day to day,</span> -<span class="i0">As one whose thoughts were far away,</span> -<span class="i0">With folded arms and drooping head</span> -<span class="i0">Pace the green aisles with silent tread;</span> -<span class="i0">Saw him stand moodily apart</span> -<span class="i0">With idle hands and brooding heart,</span> -<span class="i0">Or gaze at his still forms of clay,</span> -<span class="i0">Himself as motionless as they!</span> -<span class="i0">“O Valdemar!” she cried, “you bear</span> -<span class="i0">Some burden that I do not share!</span> -<span class="i0">I am your wife, your own true wife;</span> -<span class="i0">Shut me not out from heart and life!</span> -<span class="i0">Why brood you thus in silent pain?”</span> -<span class="i0">As shifts the changing weather-vane,</span> -<span class="i0">So came the old smile to his face,</span> -<span class="i0">Saluting her with courtly grace.</span> -<span class="i0">“Nay, nay, Hermione, not so!</span> -<span class="i0">No secret, bitter grief I know;</span> -<span class="i0">But, haunting all my dreams by night</span> -<span class="i0">And thoughts by day, one vision bright,</span> -<span class="i0">One nameless wonder, near me stands,</span> -<span class="i0">Claiming its birthright at my hands.</span> -<span class="i0">It hath your eyes, Hermione,</span> -<span class="i0">Your tender lips that smile for me;</span> -<span class="i0">It hath your perfect, stately grace,</span> -<span class="i0">The matchless beauty of your face.</span> -<span class="i0">But it hath more! for never yet</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> -<span class="i0">On brow of earthly mould was set</span> -<span class="i0">Such splendor and such light as streams</span> -<span class="i0">From this rare phantom of my dreams!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lightly she turned, and led him through</span> -<span class="i0">Under the jasmines wet with dew,</span> -<span class="i0">Into a wide, cool room, shut in</span> -<span class="i0">From the great city’s whirl and din—</span> -<span class="i0">Then, smiling, touched a heap of clay.</span> -<span class="i0">“Dear idler, do thy work, I pray!</span> -<span class="i0">Thy radiant phantom lieth hid</span> -<span class="i0">The mould of centuries amid,</span> -<span class="i0">Waiting till thou shalt bid it rise</span> -<span class="i0">And live beneath the wondering skies!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then rose a hot flush to his cheek;</span> -<span class="i0">His stammering lips were slow to speak.</span> -<span class="i0">“Hermione,” he said at length,</span> -<span class="i0">As one who gathers up his strength,</span> -<span class="i0">“Hermione, my wife, I go</span> -<span class="i0">Far from thee on a journey slow</span> -<span class="i0">And long and perilous; for I know</span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere upon the earth there is</span> -<span class="i0">A finer, purer clay than this,</span> -<span class="i0">From which I’ll mould a shape more fair</span> -<span class="i0">Than ever breathed in earthly air!</span> -<span class="i0">I go to seek it!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i18">“Ah!” she said,</span> -<span class="i0">With smiling lips, but tearful eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Half lifted in a grieved surprise,</span> -<span class="i0">“How shall I then be comforted?</span> -<span class="i0">Not always do we find afar</span> -<span class="i0">The good we seek, my Valdemar!</span> -<span class="i0">This common, way-side clay thy hand</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Hath been most potent to command.</span> -<span class="i0">Yet I—I will not bid thee stay.</span> -<span class="i0">Go, if thou must, and find thy clay!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then his long journeyings began,</span> -<span class="i0">And still his hope his steps outran.</span> -<span class="i0">O’er desert sands he came and went;</span> -<span class="i0">He crossed a mighty continent;</span> -<span class="i0">Plunged into forests dark and lone;</span> -<span class="i0">In jungles heard the panther’s moan;</span> -<span class="i0">Climbed the far mountains’ lofty heights;</span> -<span class="i0">Watched alien stars through weary nights;</span> -<span class="i0">While more than once, on trackless seas,</span> -<span class="i0">His white sails caught the eddying breeze.</span> -<span class="i0">Yet all his labor was for nought,</span> -<span class="i0">And never found he what he sought,</span> -<span class="i0">Or far or near. The finer clay</span> -<span class="i0">But mocked his eager search alway.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ofttimes he came, with weary feet,</span> -<span class="i0">Back to the home so still and sweet</span> -<span class="i0">Where his fair wife, Hermione,</span> -<span class="i0">Dwelt with her children at her knee;</span> -<span class="i0">But never once his eager hand</span> -<span class="i0">Thrilled the mute clay with high command.</span> -<span class="i0">One day she spoke: “O Valdemar,</span> -<span class="i0">Cease from your wanderings wide and far!</span> -<span class="i0">Life is not long. Why waste it, then,</span> -<span class="i0">Chasing false fires through marsh and fen?</span> -<span class="i0">Mould your fair statue while you may;</span> -<span class="i0">High purpose sanctifies the clay.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He answered her, “My dream must wait,</span> -<span class="i0">Fortune will aid me, soon or late!</span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps the clay I may not find—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> -<span class="i0">But a strange tale is in the wind</span> -<span class="i0">Of an old man whose life has been</span> -<span class="i0">Shut up wild solitudes within</span> -<span class="i0">On Alpine mountains. He has found</span> -<span class="i0">What I have sought the world around.</span> -<span class="i0">A learnèd, godly man, he knows</span> -<span class="i0">How the full tide of being flows;</span> -<span class="i0">And he, in some mysterious way,</span> -<span class="i0">Makes, if he cannot find, the clay.</span> -<span class="i0">He will his secret share with me—</span> -<span class="i0">I go to him, Hermione!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“But, Valdemar,” she cried, “time flies,</span> -<span class="i0">And while you dream, the vision dies!</span> -<span class="i0">And look! Our children suffer lack;</span> -<span class="i0">There is no coat for Claudio’s back;</span> -<span class="i0">Theresa’s little feet, unshod,</span> -<span class="i0">Are torn by shards on which they trod;</span> -<span class="i0">And Marcius cried but yesterday</span> -<span class="i0">When the lads mocked him at their play.</span> -<span class="i0">The very house is crumbling down;</span> -<span class="i0">The broken hearth-stone needs repair;</span> -<span class="i0">The roof is open to the air—</span> -<span class="i0">It wakes the laughter of the town!</span> -<span class="i0">O Valdemar! if you must go</span> -<span class="i0">Up to those trackless fields of snow,</span> -<span class="i0">Mould first from yonder common clay</span> -<span class="i0">Something to keep the wolf away—</span> -<span class="i0">A Virgin for some humble shrine,</span> -<span class="i0">A soldier clad in armor fine,</span> -<span class="i0">Or even such toys as Andrefels</span> -<span class="i0">To laughing, wondering children sells.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now murmur not, Hermione,</span> -<span class="i0">But be thou patient,” answered he.</span> -<span class="i0">“Why mind the laughter of the town?</span> -<span class="i0">It cannot shake my fair renown!</span> -<span class="i0">A touch of hardship, now and then,</span> -<span class="i0">Will never harm our little men;</span> -<span class="i0">And as for this old, crumbling roof,</span> -<span class="i0">Let rude winds put it to the proof,</span> -<span class="i0">And fierce heats gnaw the hearth-stone! I</span> -<span class="i0">Surely the Land of Promise spy,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the fair vision of my dreams,</span> -<span class="i0">Clothed in transcendent beauty, gleams!</span> -<span class="i0">In its white hand it holdeth up</span> -<span class="i0">For us, my love, a brimming cup</span> -<span class="i0">Where wealth and fame and joy divine</span> -<span class="i0">Mingle in life’s most sparkling wine.</span> -<span class="i0">Bid me God-speed, Hermione,</span> -<span class="i0">And kiss me, ere I go from thee!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So on he sped, from day to day—</span> -<span class="i0">Past wheat-fields yellowing in the sun,</span> -<span class="i0">Where scarlet-coated poppies run,</span> -<span class="i0">Gay soldiers ready for the fray—</span> -<span class="i0">Past vineyards purpling on the hills,</span> -<span class="i0">Past sleeping lakes and dancing rills,</span> -<span class="i0">And homes like dovecotes nestling high</span> -<span class="i0">Midway between the earth and sky!</span> -<span class="i0">Then on he passed through valleys dim</span> -<span class="i0">Crowded with shadows gaunt and grim,</span> -<span class="i0">Up towering heights whence glaciers launch</span> -<span class="i0">Their swift-winged ships for seaward flight,</span> -<span class="i0">Or where, dread messenger of fright,</span> -<span class="i0">Sweeps down the awful avalanche!</span> -<span class="i0">And still upon the mountain side</span> -<span class="i0">To every man he met he cried,</span> -<span class="i0">“Where shall I find, oh! tell me where,</span> -<span class="i0">The hermit of this upper air,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Who Nature’s inmost secret knows?”</span> -<span class="i0">And, pointing to the eternal snows,</span> -<span class="i0">Each man replied, with wagging head,</span> -<span class="i0">“Up yonder, somewhere, it is said.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At length one day, as sank the sun,</span> -<span class="i0">He reached a low hut, dark and dun,</span> -<span class="i0">And, entering unbidden, found</span> -<span class="i0">An old man stretched upon the ground:</span> -<span class="i0">A white-haired, venerable man,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose eyes had hardly light to scan</span> -<span class="i0">The face that, blanched with awful fear,</span> -<span class="i0">Bent down, his failing breath to hear.</span> -<span class="i0">“<i>Pax vobiscum</i>” he murmured low,</span> -<span class="i0">“Shrive me, O brother, ere I go!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“No priest am I,” cried Valdemar.</span> -<span class="i0">“Alas! alas! I came from far</span> -<span class="i0">To learn thy secret of the clay—</span> -<span class="i0">Speak to me, sire, while yet you may!”</span> -<span class="i0">But while he wet the parchèd lips,</span> -<span class="i0">The dull eyes closed in death’s eclipse;</span> -<span class="i0">And the old seer in silence lay,</span> -<span class="i0">Himself a thing of pallid clay,</span> -<span class="i0">With all his secrets closely hid</span> -<span class="i0">As Ramses’ in the pyramid.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long time within that lonely place</span> -<span class="i0">Valdemar lived, but found no trace</span> -<span class="i0">In learnèd book or parchment scroll</span> -<span class="i0">(The ink scarce dry upon the roll)</span> -<span class="i0">Of aught the stars had taught to him.</span> -<span class="i0">Within the wide horizon’s rim,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor earth, nor sky, nor winds at play,</span> -<span class="i0">Knew the lost secret of the clay.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then sought he, after journeyings hard,</span> -<span class="i0">The holy monks of St. Bernard.</span> -<span class="i0">But they—ah, yes!—they knew him well,</span> -<span class="i0">A man not ruled by book and bell.</span> -<span class="i0">Godly, perhaps—but much inclined</span> -<span class="i0">Some newer road to heaven to find.</span> -<span class="i0">And was he dead? God rest his soul,</span> -<span class="i0">After this life of toil and dole!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And that was all! O Valdemar!</span> -<span class="i0">Fly to thy desolate home afar,</span> -<span class="i0">Where wasted, worn, Hermione,</span> -<span class="i0">With her pale children at her knee,</span> -<span class="i0">Beside the broken hearth-stone weeps!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He finds her, smiling as she sleeps,</span> -<span class="i0">For night more tender is than day,</span> -<span class="i0">And softly wipes our tears away.</span> -<span class="i0">“Oh, wake, Hermione!” he cries,</span> -<span class="i0">As one whose spirit inly dies;</span> -<span class="i0">“Hear me confess that I have been</span> -<span class="i0">False to thee in my pride and sin!</span> -<span class="i0">God give me grace from this blest day</span> -<span class="i0">To do His work in common clay! ”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Next morn, in humble, sweet content,</span> -<span class="i0">Into his studio he went,</span> -<span class="i0">Eager to test his willing hand,</span> -<span class="i0">And rule the clay with wise command.</span> -<span class="i0">But no fair wonder first he wrought,</span> -<span class="i0">No marvel of creative thought,</span> -<span class="i0">Not even a Virgin for a shrine,</span> -<span class="i0">Or soldier clad in armor fine—</span> -<span class="i0">Only such toys as Andrefels</span> -<span class="i0">To laughing, wondering children sells!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One day he knelt him gravely down</span> -<span class="i0">Beside the hearth-stone, rent and brown.</span> -<span class="i0">“And now, my patient wife,” said he,</span> -<span class="i0">“What can be done with this, we’ll see.”</span> -<span class="i0">With straining arm and crimsoned face</span> -<span class="i0">He pried the mortar from its place,</span> -<span class="i0">Lifted the heavy stone aside,</span> -<span class="i0">And left a cavern yawning wide.</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, wondrous tale! At set of sun</span> -<span class="i0">The guerdon of his search was won;</span> -<span class="i0">And where his broken hearth-stone lay</span> -<span class="i0">He found at last the perfect clay!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>JUBILATE!</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Jubilate! Jubilate!</span> -<span class="i0">Christ the Lord is risen to-day!</span> -<span class="i0">Hear the mighty chorus swelling</span> -<span class="i0">Over land and over sea!</span> -<span class="i0">River calls aloud to river,</span> -<span class="i0">Mountain peak to mountain peak—</span> -<span class="i0">Jubilate! Jubilate!</span> -<span class="i0">Christ the Lord is risen to-day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waken, roses, from your slumbers!</span> -<span class="i0">Lilies, wake—for he is near!</span> -<span class="i0">Happy bells in wild-wood arches,</span> -<span class="i0">Ring and swing in sweet accord!</span> -<span class="i0">Lift your voices, O ye maples,</span> -<span class="i0">Sing aloud, ye stately pines,</span> -<span class="i0">Jubilate! Jubilate!</span> -<span class="i0">Christ the Lord is risen to-day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O thou goddess of the springtime,</span> -<span class="i0">Fair Ostera, thou art dead!</span> -<span class="i0">Never more shall priests and vestals</span> -<span class="i0">Weave fresh garlands for thy shrine;</span> -<span class="i0">But the happy voices ringing</span> -<span class="i0">Over land and over sea,</span> -<span class="i0">Swell the mighty jubilate—</span> -<span class="i0">“Christ the Lord is risen to-day!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>EASTER LILIES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O ye dear and blessed ones who are done with sighing,</span> -<span class="i2">Do the Easter Lilies blow for you to-day?</span> -<span class="i0">Do the shining angels, through Heaven’s arches flying,</span> -<span class="i2">Bear the snow-white blossoms on your breasts to lay?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For we cannot reach you, O our well belovèd—</span> -<span class="i2">Nothing can we do for you save to hold you dear;</span> -<span class="i0">From our close embraces ye are far removèd,</span> -<span class="i2">And our empty yearnings cannot bring you near.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once on Easter mornings glad we gave you greeting—</span> -<span class="i2">Gave you fair flowers, singing, “Christ is risen to-day!”</span> -<span class="i0">Hands were clasped together, hearts and lips were meeting—</span> -<span class="i2">Earth and we together sang a roundelay!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now—yet why repine we?—ye are done with sorrow;</span> -<span class="i2">Life and Lent are over, with their prayers and tears;</span> -<span class="i0">After night of watching came the glad to-morrow,</span> -<span class="i2">Came the blessed sunshine of the eternal years.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Surely in Jerusalem, where the Lord Christ reigneth,</span> -<span class="i2">Ye with saints and martyrs keep this festal day—</span> -<span class="i0">And the holy angels, ere its glory waneth,</span> -<span class="i2">Heaven’s own Easter Lilies on your breasts shall lay!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>“O WIND THAT BLOWS OUT OF THE WEST”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O wind that blows out of the West,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast swept over mountain and sea,</span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou bear on thy swift, glad wings</span> -<span class="i2">The breath of my love to me?</span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou kissed her warm, sweet lips?</span> -<span class="i2">Or tangled her soft brown hair?</span> -<span class="i0">Or fluttered the fragrant heart</span> -<span class="i2">Of the rose she loves to wear?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sun that goes down in the West,</span> -<span class="i2">Hast thou seen my love to-day,</span> -<span class="i0">As she sits in her beautiful prime</span> -<span class="i2">Under skies so far away?</span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou gilded a path for her feet,</span> -<span class="i2">Or deepened the glow on her cheeks,</span> -<span class="i0">Or bent from the skies to hear</span> -<span class="i2">The low, sweet words she speaks?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O stars that are bright in the West</span> -<span class="i2">When the hush of the night is deep,</span> -<span class="i0">Do ye see my love as she lies</span> -<span class="i2">Like a chaste, white flower asleep?</span> -<span class="i0">Does she smile as she walks with me</span> -<span class="i2">In the light of a happy dream,</span> -<span class="i0">While the night winds rustle the leaves,</span> -<span class="i2">And the light waves ripple and gleam?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O birds that fly out of the West,</span> -<span class="i2">Do ye bring me a message from her,</span> -<span class="i0">As sweet as your love-notes are,</span> -<span class="i2">When the warm spring breezes stir?</span> -<span class="i0">Did she whisper a word of me</span> -<span class="i2">As your tremulous wings swept by,</span> -<span class="i0">Or utter my name, mayhap,</span> -<span class="i2">In a single passionate cry?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O voices out of the West,</span> -<span class="i2">Ye are silent every one,</span> -<span class="i0">And never an answer comes</span> -<span class="i2">From wind, or stars, or sun!</span> -<span class="i0">And the blithe birds come and go</span> -<span class="i2">Through the boundless fields of space,</span> -<span class="i0">As reckless of human prayers</span> -<span class="i2">As if earth were a desert place!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A SUMMER SONG</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Roly-poly honey-bee,</span> -<span class="i2">Humming in the clover,</span> -<span class="i0">Under you the tossing leaves,</span> -<span class="i2">And the blue sky over,</span> -<span class="i0">Why are you so busy, pray?</span> -<span class="i2">Never still a minute,</span> -<span class="i0">Hovering now above a flower,</span> -<span class="i2">Now half-buried in it!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Jaunty robin-redbreast,</span> -<span class="i2">Singing loud and cheerly,</span> -<span class="i0">From the pink-white apple tree</span> -<span class="i2">In the morning early,</span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, is your merry song</span> -<span class="i2">Just for your own pleasure,</span> -<span class="i0">Poured from such a tiny throat,</span> -<span class="i2">Without stint or measure?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little yellow buttercup,</span> -<span class="i2">By the way-side smiling,</span> -<span class="i0">Lifting up your happy face,</span> -<span class="i2">With such sweet beguiling,</span> -<span class="i0">Why are you so gayly clad—</span> -<span class="i2">Cloth of gold your raiment?</span> -<span class="i0">Do the sunshine and the dew</span> -<span class="i2">Look to you for payment?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Roses in the garden beds,</span> -<span class="i2">Lilies, cool and saintly,</span> -<span class="i0">Darling blue-eyed violets,</span> -<span class="i2">Pansies, hooded quaintly,</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet-peas that, like butterflies,</span> -<span class="i2">Dance the bright skies under,</span> -<span class="i0">Bloom ye for your own delight,</span> -<span class="i2">Or for ours, I wonder!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE URN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Across the blue Atlantic waves</span> -<span class="i2">She sent a little gift to me:</span> -<span class="i0">A golden urn—a graceful toy</span> -<span class="i2">As one need care to see.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Smiling, I held it in my hand,</span> -<span class="i2">Thinking her message o’er and o’er,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor dreamed her swift feet pressed so near</span> -<span class="i2">The undiscovered shore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh! had it been a funeral urn—</span> -<span class="i2">The gift my darling sent to me</span> -<span class="i0">With loving thoughts and tender words</span> -<span class="i2">Across the heaving sea—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A funeral urn which might have held</span> -<span class="i2">Her sacred ashes, sealed in rest</span> -<span class="i0">Utter as that which holds in thrall</span> -<span class="i2">Some pulseless marble breast!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where drifts she now? On what far seas</span> -<span class="i2">Floateth to-day her golden hair?</span> -<span class="i0">What stars behold her pale hands, clasped</span> -<span class="i2">In ecstasy of prayer?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forever in this thought of mine,</span> -<span class="i2">Like the fair Lady of Shalott,</span> -<span class="i0">She drifteth, drifteth with the tide,</span> -<span class="i2">But never comes to Camelot!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What, ho!” he cried, as up and down</span> -<span class="i0">He rode through the streets of Windham town—</span> -<span class="i0">“What, ho! for the day of peace is done,</span> -<span class="i0">And the day of wrath too well begun!</span> -<span class="i0">Bring forth the grain from your barns and mills;</span> -<span class="i0">Drive down the cattle from off your hills;</span> -<span class="i0">For Boston lieth in sore distress,</span> -<span class="i0">Pallid with hunger and long duress:</span> -<span class="i0">Her children starve, while she hears the beat</span> -<span class="i0">And the tramp of the red-coats in every street!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“What, ho! What, ho!” Like a storm unspent,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the hill-sides he came and went;</span> -<span class="i0">And Parson White, from his open door</span> -<span class="i0">Leaning bareheaded that August day,</span> -<span class="i0">While the sun beat down on his temples gray,</span> -<span class="i0">Watched him until he could see no more.</span> -<span class="i0">Then straight he strode to the church, and flung</span> -<span class="i0">His whole soul into the peal he rung;</span> -<span class="i0">Pulling the bell-rope till the tower</span> -<span class="i0">Seemed to rock in the sudden shower—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shower of sound the farmers heard,</span> -<span class="i0">Rending the air like a living word!</span> -<span class="i0">Then swift they gathered with right good-will</span> -<span class="i0">From field and anvil and shop and mill,</span> -<span class="i0">To hear what the parson had to say</span> -<span class="i0">That would not keep till the Sabbath-day.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> -<span class="i0">For only the women and children knew</span> -<span class="i0">The tale of the horsemen galloping through—</span> -<span class="i0">The message he bore as up and down</span> -<span class="i0">He rode through the streets of Windham town.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That night, as the parson sat at ease</span> -<span class="i0">In the porch, with his Bible on his knees,</span> -<span class="i0">(Thanking God that at break of day</span> -<span class="i0">Frederic Manning would take his way,</span> -<span class="i0">With cattle and sheep from off the hills,</span> -<span class="i0">And a load of grain from the barns and mills,</span> -<span class="i0">To the starving city where General Gage</span> -<span class="i0">Waited unholy war to wage),</span> -<span class="i0">His little daughter beside him stood,</span> -<span class="i0">Hiding her face in her muslin hood.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In her arms her own pet lamb she bore,</span> -<span class="i0">As it struggled down to the oaken floor:</span> -<span class="i0">“It must go; I must give my lamb,” she said,</span> -<span class="i0">“To the children that cry for meat and bread,”</span> -<span class="i0">Then lifted to his her holy eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Wet with the tears of sacrifice.</span> -<span class="i0">“Nay, nay,” he answered. “There is no need</span> -<span class="i0">That the hearts of babes should ache and bleed.</span> -<span class="i0">Run away to your bed, and to-morrow play,</span> -<span class="i0">You and your pet, through the livelong day.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He laid his hand on her shining hair,</span> -<span class="i0">And smiled as he blessed her, standing there,</span> -<span class="i0">With kerchief folded across her breast,</span> -<span class="i0">And her small brown hands together pressed,</span> -<span class="i0">A quaint little maiden, shy and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">With her lambkin crouched at her dainty feet.</span> -<span class="i0">Away to its place the lamb she led,</span> -<span class="i0">Then climbed the stairs to her own white bed,</span> -<span class="i0">While the moon rose up and the stars looked down</span> -<span class="i0">On the silent streets of Windham town.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the heralds of morning came,</span> -<span class="i0">Flushing the east with rosy flame,</span> -<span class="i0">With low of cattle and scurry of feet,</span> -<span class="i0">Driving his herd down the village street,</span> -<span class="i0">Young Manning heard from a low stone wall</span> -<span class="i0">A child’s voice clearly yet softly call;</span> -<span class="i0">And saw in the gray dusk standing there</span> -<span class="i0">A little maiden with shining hair,</span> -<span class="i0">While crowding close to her tender side</span> -<span class="i0">Was a snow-white lamb to her apron tied.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, wait!” she cried, “for my lamb must go</span> -<span class="i0">To the children crying in want and woe.</span> -<span class="i0">It is all I have.” And her tears fell fast</span> -<span class="i0">As she gave it one eager kiss—the last.</span> -<span class="i0">“The road will be long to its feet. I pray</span> -<span class="i0">Let your arms be its bed a part of the way;</span> -<span class="i0">And give it cool water and tender grass</span> -<span class="i0">Whenever a way-side brook you pass.”</span> -<span class="i0">Then away she flew like a startled deer,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor waited the bleat of her lamb to hear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Young Manning lifted his steel-blue eyes</span> -<span class="i0">One moment up to the morning skies;</span> -<span class="i0">Then, raising the lamb to his breast, he strode</span> -<span class="i0">Sturdily down the lengthening road.</span> -<span class="i0">“Now God be my helper,” he cried, “and lead</span> -<span class="i0">Me safe with my charge to the souls in need!</span> -<span class="i0">Through fire and flood, through dearth and dole,</span> -<span class="i0">Though foes assail me and war-clouds roll,</span> -<span class="i0">To the city in want and woe that lies</span> -<span class="i0">I will bear this lamb as a sacrifice.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MARCH FOURTH<br /><br />1881-1882</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One year ago the plaudits of the crowd,</span> -<span class="i2">The drum’s long thunder and the bugle’s blare,</span> -<span class="i0">The bell’s gay clamor, pealing clear and loud,</span> -<span class="i2">And rapturous music filling all the air;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One year ago, on roofs and domes and spires,</span> -<span class="i2">Ten thousand banners bursting into bloom</span> -<span class="i0">As the proud day advanced its golden fires,</span> -<span class="i2">And all the crowding centuries gave it room;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One year ago the laurel and the palm,</span> -<span class="i2">The upward path, the height undimmed and far,</span> -<span class="i0">And in the clear, strong light, serene and calm,</span> -<span class="i2">One high, pure spirit, shining like a star!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-day—for loud acclaims the long lament;</span> -<span class="i2">For shouts of triumph, tears that fall like rain;</span> -<span class="i0">A world remembering, with anguish rent,</span> -<span class="i2">Thy long, unmurmuring martyrdom of pain!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The year moves on; the seasons come and go;</span> -<span class="i2">Day follows day, and pale stars rise and set;</span> -<span class="i0">Oh! in yon radiant heaven dost thou know</span> -<span class="i2">The land that loved thee never can forget?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It doth not swerve—it keeps its onward way,</span> -<span class="i2">Unfaltering still, from farthest sea to sea;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet, while it owns another’s rightful sway,</span> -<span class="i2">It patient grows and strong, remembering thee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>ROY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our Prince has gone to his inheritance!</span> -<span class="i2">Think it not strange. What if, with slight half-smile,</span> -<span class="i0">Some crownèd king to leave his throne should chance,</span> -<span class="i2">And try the rough ways of the world awhile?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere he had wearied of its storm and stress,</span> -<span class="i2">Would he not hasten to his own again?</span> -<span class="i0">Why should he bear its labor and duress,</span> -<span class="i2">And all the untold burden of its pain?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or what if from the golden palace gate</span> -<span class="i2">The king’s fair son on some bright morn should stray?</span> -<span class="i0">Would he not send his lords of high estate</span> -<span class="i2">To lead him back ere fell the close of day?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Even so our King from Heaven’s high portals saw</span> -<span class="i2">The fair young Prince where earth’s dull shades advance,</span> -<span class="i0">And sent his messengers of love and law</span> -<span class="i2">To bear him home to his inheritance!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE PAINTER’S PRAYER<br /><br />“<small>NEC ME PRÆTERMITTAS, DOMINE!</small>”</h3> - -<p class="center">(An incident in the painting of Holman Hunt’s<br />“Light of the World.”)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Nay,” he said, “it is not done!</span> -<span class="i0">At to-morrow’s set of sun</span> -<span class="i0">Come again, if you would see</span> -<span class="i0">What the finished thought may be.”</span> -<span class="i0">Straight they went. The heavy door</span> -<span class="i0">On its hinges swung once more,</span> -<span class="i0">As within the studio dim</span> -<span class="i0">Eye and heart took heed of Him!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How the Presence filled the room,</span> -<span class="i0">Brightening all its dusky gloom!</span> -<span class="i0">Saints and martyrs turned their eyes</span> -<span class="i0">From the hills of Paradise;</span> -<span class="i0">Rapt in holy ecstasy,</span> -<span class="i0">Mary smiled her Son to see,</span> -<span class="i0">Letting all her lilies fall</span> -<span class="i0">At His feet—the Lord of all!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the painter bowed his head,</span> -<span class="i0">Lost in wonder and in dread,</span> -<span class="i0">And as at a holy shrine</span> -<span class="i0">Knelt before the form divine.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> -<span class="i0">All had passed—the pride, the power,</span> -<span class="i0">Of the soul’s creative hour—</span> -<span class="i0">Exaltation’s soaring flight</span> -<span class="i0">To the spirit’s loftiest height.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Had he dared to paint the Lord?</span> -<span class="i0">Dared to paint the Christ, the Word?</span> -<span class="i0">Ah, the folly! Ah, the sin!</span> -<span class="i0">Ah, the shame his soul within!</span> -<span class="i0">Saints might turn on him their eyes</span> -<span class="i0">From the hills of Paradise,</span> -<span class="i0">But the painter could not brook</span> -<span class="i0">On that pictured face to look.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet the form was grand and fair,</span> -<span class="i0">Fit to move a world to prayer;</span> -<span class="i0">God like in its strength and stress,</span> -<span class="i0">Human in its tenderness.</span> -<span class="i0">From it streamed the Light divine,</span> -<span class="i0">O’er it drooped the heavenly vine,</span> -<span class="i0">And beneath the bending spray</span> -<span class="i0">Stood the Life, the Truth, the Way!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Suddenly with eager hold,</span> -<span class="i0">Back he swept the curtain’s fold,</span> -<span class="i0">Letting all the sunset glow</span> -<span class="i0">O’er the living canvas flow.</span> -<span class="i0">Surely then the wondrous eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Met his own in tenderest wise,</span> -<span class="i0">And the Lord Christ, half revealed,</span> -<span class="i0">Smiled upon him as he kneeled!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Trembling, throbbing, quick as thought,</span> -<span class="i0">Up he brush and palette caught,</span> -<span class="i0">And where deepest shade was thrown</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Set one sign for God alone!</span> -<span class="i0">Years have passed—but, even yet,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the massive frame is set</span> -<span class="i0">You may find these words: “<i>Nec me</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Prætermittas, Domine!</i>”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Neither pass me by, O Lord!”</span> -<span class="i0">Christ, the Life, the Light, the Word,</span> -<span class="i0">Low we bow before thy feet,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy remembrance to entreat!</span> -<span class="i0">In our soul’s most secret place,</span> -<span class="i0">For no eye but thine to trace,</span> -<span class="i0">Lo! this prayer we write: “<i>Nec me</i></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Prætermittas, Domine!</i>”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>FROM EXILE<br /><br /><span class="smcap">Paris, September</span> 3, 1879</h3> - -<p class="center">(<i>A Mother speaks</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, dear God, when will it be day?</span> -<span class="i0">I cannot sleep, I cannot pray.</span> -<span class="i0">Tossing, I watch the silent stars</span> -<span class="i0">Mount up from the horizon bars:</span> -<span class="i0">Orion with his flaming sword,</span> -<span class="i0">Proud chieftain of the glorious horde;</span> -<span class="i0">Auriga up the lofty arch</span> -<span class="i0">Pursuing still his stately march—</span> -<span class="i0">So patient and so calm are they.</span> -<span class="i0">Ah, dear God! when will it be day?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Mary, Mother! Hark! I hear</span> -<span class="i0">A cock crow through the silence clear!</span> -<span class="i0">The dawn’s faint crimson streaks the east,</span> -<span class="i0">And, afar off, I catch the least</span> -<span class="i0">Low murmur of the city’s stir</span> -<span class="i0">As she shakes off the dreams of her!</span> -<span class="i0">List! there’s a sound of hurrying feet</span> -<span class="i0">Far down below me in the street.</span> -<span class="i0">Thank God! the weary night is past,</span> -<span class="i0">The morning comes—’tis day at last.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wake, Rosalie! Awake! arise!</span> -<span class="i0">The sun is up, it gilds the skies.</span> -<span class="i0">She does not stir. The young sleep sound</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> -<span class="i0">As dead men in their graves profound.</span> -<span class="i0">Ho, Rosalie! At last? Now haste!</span> -<span class="i0">To-day there is no time to waste.</span> -<span class="i0">Bring me fresh water. Braid my hair.</span> -<span class="i0">Hand me the glass. Once I was fair</span> -<span class="i0">As thou art. Now I look so old</span> -<span class="i0">It seems my death-knell should be tolled.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ill? No! (I want no wine.) So pale?</span> -<span class="i0">Like a white ghost, so wan and frail?</span> -<span class="i0">Well, that’s not strange. All night I lay</span> -<span class="i0">Waiting and watching for the day.</span> -<span class="i0">But—there! I’ll drink it; it may make</span> -<span class="i0">My cheeks burn brighter for his sake</span> -<span class="i0">Who comes to-day. My boy! my boy!</span> -<span class="i0">How can I bear the unwonted joy?</span> -<span class="i0">I, who for eight long years have wept</span> -<span class="i0">While happier mothers smiling slept;</span> -<span class="i0">While others decked their sons first-born</span> -<span class="i0">For dance, or fête, or bridal morn,</span> -<span class="i0">Or proudly smiled to see them stand</span> -<span class="i0">The stateliest pillars of the land!</span> -<span class="i0">For he, so gallant and so gay,</span> -<span class="i0">As young and debonair as they,</span> -<span class="i0">My beautiful, brave boy, my life,</span> -<span class="i0">Went down in the unequal strife!</span> -<span class="i0">The right or wrong? Oh, what care I?</span> -<span class="i0">The good God judgeth up on high.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now He gives him back to me!</span> -<span class="i0">I tremble so—I scarce can see.</span> -<span class="i0">How full the streets are! I will wait</span> -<span class="i0">His coming here beside this gate,</span> -<span class="i0">From which I watched him as he went,</span> -<span class="i0">Eight years ago, to banishment.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Let me sit down. Speak, Rosalie, when</span> -<span class="i0">You see a band of stalwart men,</span> -<span class="i0">With one fair boy among them—one</span> -<span class="i0">With bright hair shining in the sun,</span> -<span class="i0">Red, smiling lips, and eager eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Blue as the blue of summer skies.</span> -<span class="i0">My boy! my boy!—Why come they not?</span> -<span class="i0">O Son of God! hast Thou forgot</span> -<span class="i0">Thy Mother’s agony? Yet she,</span> -<span class="i0">Was she not stronger far than we,</span> -<span class="i0">We common mothers? Could she know</span> -<span class="i0">From her far heights such pain and woe?—</span> -<span class="i0">Run farther down the street, and see</span> -<span class="i0">If they’re not coming, Rosalie!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mother of Christ! how lag the hours!</span> -<span class="i0">What? just beyond the convent towers,</span> -<span class="i0">And coming straight this way? O heart,</span> -<span class="i0">Be still and strong, and bear thy part,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy new part, bravely. Hark! I hear</span> -<span class="i0">Above the city’s hum the near</span> -<span class="i0">Slow tread of marching feet; I see—</span> -<span class="i0">Nay, I can <i>not</i> see, Rosalie;</span> -<span class="i0">Your eyes are younger. Is he there,</span> -<span class="i0">My Antoine, with his sunny hair?</span> -<span class="i0">It is like gold; it shines in the sun:</span> -<span class="i0">Surely you see it? What? Not one—</span> -<span class="i0">Not one bright head? All old, old men,</span> -<span class="i0">Gray-haired, gray-bearded, gaunt? Then—then</span> -<span class="i0">He has not come—he is ill, or dead!</span> -<span class="i0">O God, that I were in thy stead,</span> -<span class="i0">My son! my son! Who touches me?</span> -<span class="i0">Your pardon, sir. I am not she</span> -<span class="i0">For whom you look. Go farther on</span> -<span class="i0">Ere yet the daylight shall be gone.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Mother!’ Who calls me ‘Mother?’ <i>You?</i></span> -<span class="i0">You are not he—my Antoine! You—</span> -<span class="i0">A bowed, gray-bearded man, while he</span> -<span class="i0">Was a mere boy who went from me,</span> -<span class="i0">Only a boy! I’m sorry, sir.</span> -<span class="i0">God bless you! Soon you will find her</span> -<span class="i0">For whom you seek. But I—ah, I—</span> -<span class="i0">Still must I call and none reply!</span> -<span class="i0">You—kiss me? Antoine? O my son!</span> -<span class="i0">Thou art mine own, my banished one!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A MOTHER-SONG</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep, baby, sleep! The Christmas stars are shining,</span> -<span class="i2">Clear and bright the Christmas stars climb up the vaulted sky;</span> -<span class="i0">Low hangs the pale moon, in the west declining:</span> -<span class="i2">Sleep, baby, sleep, the Christmas morn is nigh!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hush, baby, hush! For Earth her watch is keeping;</span> -<span class="i2">Watches and waits she the angels’ song to hear;</span> -<span class="i0">Listening for the swift rush of their wings downsweeping,</span> -<span class="i2">Joy and Peace proclaiming through the midnight clear.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dream, baby, dream! The far-off chimes are ringing;</span> -<span class="i2">Tenderly and solemnly the music soars and swells;</span> -<span class="i0">With soft reverberation the happy bells are swinging,</span> -<span class="i2">While each to each responsive the same sweet story tells!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark, baby, hark! Hear how the choral voices,</span> -<span class="i2">All jubilantly singing, take up the glad refrain,</span> -<span class="i0">“Unto you is born a Saviour,” while heaven with earth rejoices,</span> -<span class="i2">And all its lofty battlements re-echo with the strain!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wake, baby, wake! For, lo! in floods of glory</span> -<span class="i2">The Christmas Day advances over the hills of morn!</span> -<span class="i0">Wake, baby, wake! and smile to hear the story</span> -<span class="i2">How Christ, the Son of Mary, in Bethlehem was born!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>EASTER MORNING</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dame Margaret spake to Annie Blair,</span> -<span class="i2">To Annie Blair spake she,</span> -<span class="i0">As from beneath her wrinkled hand</span> -<span class="i2">She peered far out to sea.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Look forth, look forth, O Annie Blair,</span> -<span class="i2">For my old eyes are dim;</span> -<span class="i0">See you a single boat afloat</span> -<span class="i2">Within the horizon’s rim?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet Annie looked to east, to west,</span> -<span class="i2">To north and south looked she:</span> -<span class="i0">There was no single boat afloat</span> -<span class="i2">Upon the angry sea.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sky was dark, the winds were high,</span> -<span class="i2">The breakers lashed the shore,</span> -<span class="i0">And louder and still louder swelled</span> -<span class="i2">The tempest’s sullen roar.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Look forth again,” Dame Margaret cried;</span> -<span class="i2">“Doth any boat come in?”</span> -<span class="i0">And scarce she heard the answering word</span> -<span class="i2">Above the furious din.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Pray God no boat may put to sea</span> -<span class="i2">In such a gale!” she said;</span> -<span class="i0">“Pray God no soul may dare to-night</span> -<span class="i2">The rocks of Danger Head!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“This is Good Friday, Annie Blair,”</span> -<span class="i2">Dame Margaret cried again,</span> -<span class="i0">“When Mary’s Son, the Merciful,</span> -<span class="i2">On Calvary was slain.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The earth did quake, the rocks were rent,</span> -<span class="i2">The graves were opened wide,</span> -<span class="i0">And darkness like to this fell down</span> -<span class="i2">When He—the Holy—died.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Give me your hand, O Annie Blair;</span> -<span class="i2">Your two knees fall upon;</span> -<span class="i0">Christ send to you your lover back—</span> -<span class="i2">To me, my only son!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All night they watched, all night they prayed,</span> -<span class="i2">All night they heard the roar</span> -<span class="i0">Of the fierce breakers dashing high</span> -<span class="i2">Upon the lonely shore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, hark! strange footsteps on the sand,</span> -<span class="i2">A voice above the din:</span> -<span class="i0">“Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!</span> -<span class="i2">Is Annie Blair within?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">High on the rocks of Danger Head</span> -<span class="i2">Her lover’s boat is cast,</span> -<span class="i0">All rudderless, all anchorless—</span> -<span class="i2">Mere hull and splintered mast.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, hark! slow footsteps on the sand,</span> -<span class="i2">And women wailing sore:</span> -<span class="i0">“Dame Margaret! Dame Margaret!</span> -<span class="i2">Your son you’ll see no more!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God pity you! Christ comfort you!”</span> -<span class="i2">The weeping women cried;</span> -<span class="i0">But “May God pity Annie Blair!”</span> -<span class="i2">Dame Margaret replied.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“For life is long and youth is strong,</span> -<span class="i2">And it must still bear on.</span> -<span class="i0">Leave us alone to make our moan—</span> -<span class="i2">My son! alas, my son!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Easter morning, flushed with joy,</span> -<span class="i2">Saw all the winds at rest,</span> -<span class="i0">And far and near the blue sea smiled</span> -<span class="i2">With sunshine on its breast.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The neighbors came, the neighbors went;</span> -<span class="i2">They sought the house of prayer;</span> -<span class="i0">But on the rocks of Danger Head</span> -<span class="i2">The dame and Annie Blair,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With still, white faces, watched the deep</span> -<span class="i2">Without a tear or moan.</span> -<span class="i0">“I cannot weep,” said Annie Blair—</span> -<span class="i2">“My heart is turned to stone.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forth from the church the pastor came,</span> -<span class="i2">And up the rocks strode he,</span> -<span class="i0">Baring his thin white locks to meet</span> -<span class="i2">The salt breath of the sea.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The rocks shall rend, the earth shall quake,</span> -<span class="i2">The sea give up its dead,</span> -<span class="i0">For Christ our Lord is risen indeed—</span> -<span class="i2">’Tis Easter morn,” he said.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, hark! oh, hark! A startled cry,</span> -<span class="i2">A rush of hurrying feet,</span> -<span class="i0">The swarming of a hundred men</span> -<span class="i2">Adown the village street.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now unto God and Christ the Lord</span> -<span class="i2">Be praise and thanks alway!</span> -<span class="i0">The sea hath given up its dead</span> -<span class="i2">This blessed Easter-day.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SEALED ORDERS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, whither bound, my captain?</span> -<span class="i2">The wind is blowing free,</span> -<span class="i0">And overhead the white sails spread</span> -<span class="i2">As we go out to sea.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He looked to north, he looked to south,</span> -<span class="i2">Or ever a word he spake;</span> -<span class="i0">“With orders sealed my sails I set—</span> -<span class="i2">Due east my course I take.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“But to what port?” “Nay, nay,” he cried,</span> -<span class="i2">“This only do I know,</span> -<span class="i0">That I must sail due eastward</span> -<span class="i2">Whatever wind may blow.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For many a day we sailéd east.</span> -<span class="i2">“O captain, tell me true,</span> -<span class="i0">When will our good ship come to port?”</span> -<span class="i2">“I cannot answer you!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Then, prithee, gallant captain,</span> -<span class="i2">Let us but drift awhile!</span> -<span class="i0">The current setteth southward</span> -<span class="i2">Past many a sunny isle,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where cocoas grow, and mangoes,</span> -<span class="i2">And groves of feathery palm,</span> -<span class="i0">And nightingales sing all night long</span> -<span class="i2">To roses breathing balm.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Nay, tempt me not,” he answered,</span> -<span class="i2">“This only do I know,</span> -<span class="i0">That I must sail due eastward</span> -<span class="i2">Whatever winds may blow!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then sailed we on, and sailed we east</span> -<span class="i2">Into the whirlwind’s track.</span> -<span class="i0">Wild was the tempest overhead,</span> -<span class="i2">The sea was strewn with wrack.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, turn thee, turn thee, captain,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou’rt rushing on to death!”</span> -<span class="i0">But back he answer shouted,</span> -<span class="i2">With unabated breath:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Turn back who will, I turn not!</span> -<span class="i2">For this one thing I know,</span> -<span class="i0">That I must sail due eastward</span> -<span class="i2">However winds may blow!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, art thou fool or madman?</span> -<span class="i2">Thy port is but a dream,</span> -<span class="i0">And never on the horizon’s rim</span> -<span class="i2">Will its fair turrets gleam.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then smiled the captain wisely,</span> -<span class="i2">And slowly answered he,</span> -<span class="i0">The while his keen glance widened</span> -<span class="i2">Over the lonely sea:</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I carry sealéd orders.</span> -<span class="i2">This only thing I know,</span> -<span class="i0">That I must sail due eastward</span> -<span class="i2">Whatever winds may blow!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AN ANNIVERSARY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10"><i>So long, so short,</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>So swift, so slow,</i></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Are the years of man</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>As they come and go!</i></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O love, it was so long ago!</span> -<span class="i2">So long, so long that we were young,</span> -<span class="i0">And in the cloisters of our hearts</span> -<span class="i2">Hope all her joy-bells rung!</span> -<span class="i0">So long, so long that since that hour</span> -<span class="i2">Full half a lifetime hath gone by—</span> -<span class="i0">How ran the days ere first we met,</span> -<span class="i2">Belovéd, thou and I?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We had our dreams, no doubt. The dawn</span> -<span class="i2">Must still presage the rising sun,</span> -<span class="i0">And rose and crimson flush the east</span> -<span class="i2">Ere day is well begun.</span> -<span class="i0">We had our dreams—fair, shadowy wraiths</span> -<span class="i2">That fled when Day’s full splendor kissed</span> -<span class="i0">Our souls’ high places, and its winds</span> -<span class="i2">Swept the vales clear of mist!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10"><i>So long, so short,</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>So swift, so slow,</i></span> -<span class="i10"><i>Are the years of man</i></span> -<span class="i12"><i>As they come and go!</i></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O love, it was but yesterday!</span> -<span class="i2">Who said it was so long ago?</span> -<span class="i0">How many times the rose hath bloomed,</span> -<span class="i2">Why should we care to know?</span> -<span class="i0">For it was just as sweet last June,</span> -<span class="i2">As dewy fresh, as fair, as red,</span> -<span class="i0">As when our first glad Eden knew</span> -<span class="i2">The rare perfumes it shed!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O love, it was but yesterday!</span> -<span class="i2">If yesterday is far away,</span> -<span class="i0">As brightly on the hill-tops lies</span> -<span class="i2">The sunshine of to-day.</span> -<span class="i0">Sing thou, my soul! O heart, be glad!</span> -<span class="i2">O circling years, fly swift or slow!</span> -<span class="i0">Your ripening harvests shall not fail,</span> -<span class="i2">Nor autumn’s utmost glow.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MARTHA</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, Lord!—Yet some must serve.</span> -<span class="i2">Not all with tranquil heart,</span> -<span class="i0">Even at thy dear feet,</span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in devotion sweet,</span> -<span class="i2">May sit apart!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, Lord!—Yet some must bear</span> -<span class="i2">The burden of the day,</span> -<span class="i0">Its labor and its heat,</span> -<span class="i0">While others at thy feet</span> -<span class="i2">May muse and pray!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, Lord!—Yet some must do</span> -<span class="i2">Life’s daily task-work; some</span> -<span class="i0">Who fain would sing, must toil</span> -<span class="i0">Amid earth’s dust and moil,</span> -<span class="i2">While lips are dumb!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, Lord!—Yet man must earn,</span> -<span class="i2">And woman bake the bread!</span> -<span class="i0">And some must watch and wake</span> -<span class="i0">Early, for others’ sake,</span> -<span class="i2">Who pray instead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, Lord!—Yet even thou</span> -<span class="i2">Hast need of earthly care.</span> -<span class="i0">I bring the bread and wine</span> -<span class="i0">To thee, O Guest Divine!</span> -<span class="i2">Be this my prayer!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE HOUR</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is the hour of the day?</span> -<span class="i2">O watchman, can you tell?</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! from the tower of Time</span> -<span class="i2">Strikes the alarum-bell!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The strokes I cannot count.</span> -<span class="i2">O watchman, can you see</span> -<span class="i0">On the misty dial-plate</span> -<span class="i2">What hours remain for me?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know the rosy dawn</span> -<span class="i2">Faded—how long ago!—</span> -<span class="i0">Lost in the radiant depths</span> -<span class="i2">Of morning’s golden glow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then all the mountain tops</span> -<span class="i2">Stood breathless at high noon,</span> -<span class="i0">While earth for brief repose</span> -<span class="i2">Put off her sandal shoon.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now faster fly the hours—</span> -<span class="i2">The afternoon is here;</span> -<span class="i0">O watchman in the tower,</span> -<span class="i2">Tell me, is sunset near?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet—why care I to know?—</span> -<span class="i2">Beyond the sunset bars</span> -<span class="i0">Upon the dead day wait</span> -<span class="i2">The brightest of the stars!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE CLOSED GATE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I walked along a narrow way;</span> -<span class="i2">The sun was shining everywhere;</span> -<span class="i0">The jocund earth was glad and gay,</span> -<span class="i2">With morning freshness in the air.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The grass was green beneath my feet;</span> -<span class="i2">The skies were blue and soft o’erhead;</span> -<span class="i0">The robin carolled clear and sweet,</span> -<span class="i2">And flowers their fragrance round me shed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How shone the great hills far away;</span> -<span class="i2">How clear they rose against the blue;</span> -<span class="i0">How fair the tranquil meadows lay,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the bright river glances through!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But suddenly, as on I pressed,</span> -<span class="i2">Before me frowned a closéd gate;</span> -<span class="i0">Filled with dismay, and sore distressed,</span> -<span class="i2">I strove in vain to conquer fate!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond, the hills for which I sighed—</span> -<span class="i2">Beyond, the valleys still and fair—</span> -<span class="i0">Beyond, the meadows stretching wide,</span> -<span class="i2">And all the shining fields of air!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What does it mean, O Father! when</span> -<span class="i2">Thy children reach some closéd gate,</span> -<span class="i0">Which, though they knock and knock again,</span> -<span class="i2">Will not its watch and ward abate?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still shall they batter at the walls?</span> -<span class="i2">Or still, like children, cry and fret,</span> -<span class="i0">While the loud clamor of their calls</span> -<span class="i2">Swells high in turbulent regret?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When thou hast barred the door, shall they</span> -<span class="i2">Challenge thy wisdom, God of love?</span> -<span class="i0">Or humbly wait beside the way</span> -<span class="i2">Till thou the barrier shalt remove?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Too oft we cannot hear thee speak,</span> -<span class="i2">So loud our voices and our prayers,</span> -<span class="i0">While to the patient and the meek</span> -<span class="i2">The gate thou openest unawares!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>CONTENT</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not asking how or why,</span> -<span class="i2">Before thy will,</span> -<span class="i0">O Father, let my heart</span> -<span class="i2">Lie hushed and still!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why should I seek to know?</span> -<span class="i2">Thou art all-wise;</span> -<span class="i0">If thou dost bid me go,</span> -<span class="i2">Let that suffice.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou dost bid me stay,</span> -<span class="i2">Make me content</span> -<span class="i0">In narrow bounds to dwell</span> -<span class="i2">Till life be spent.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou dost seal the lips</span> -<span class="i2">That fain would speak,</span> -<span class="i0">Let me be still till thou</span> -<span class="i2">The seal shalt break.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou dost make pale Pain</span> -<span class="i2">Thy minister,</span> -<span class="i0">Then let my patient heart</span> -<span class="i2">Clasp hands with her.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or, if thou sendest Joy</span> -<span class="i2">To walk with me,</span> -<span class="i0">My Father, let her lead</span> -<span class="i2">Me nearer thee!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Teach me that Joy and Pain</span> -<span class="i2">Alike are thine;</span> -<span class="i0">Teach me my life to leave</span> -<span class="i2">In hands divine!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MY WONDERLAND</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They tell me you have been in Wonderland.</span> -<span class="i0">Why, so have I! No boat’s keel touched the strand,</span> -<span class="i0">No white sails flew, no swiftly gliding car</span> -<span class="i0">Bore me to mystic realms, unknown and far.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet I, too, with these same questioning eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Have seen its mountains and beheld its skies;</span> -<span class="i0">I, too, have been in Wonderland, and know</span> -<span class="i0">How through its secret vales the weird winds blow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One morn, in Wonderland—one chill spring morn—</span> -<span class="i0">I saw a princess sleeping, pale and lorn,</span> -<span class="i0">Cold as a corse; when, lo! from out the south</span> -<span class="i0">A young knight rode, and kissed her sad, sweet mouth.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She smiled, she woke! Then rang from far and near</span> -<span class="i0">Her minstrels’ voices, jubilant and clear;</span> -<span class="i0">While in a trice, with eager, noiseless feet,</span> -<span class="i0">All the young maiden grasses, fair and fleet,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ran over hill and dale, to bring to her</span> -<span class="i0">Green robes with wild flowers ’broidered. All astir</span> -<span class="i0">Were the gay, courtier butterflies; the trees</span> -<span class="i0">Flung forth their fluttering banners to the breeze;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The soft airs fanned her; and, in russet dressed,</span> -<span class="i0">Her happy servitors around her pressed,</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing strange sweets, and curious flagons filled</span> -<span class="i0">With life’s new wine, that all her pulses thrilled.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In this same Wonderland, one sweet spring day,</span> -<span class="i0">In a gray casket, deftly hidden away,</span> -<span class="i0">I found two pearls; but as I looked they grew</span> -<span class="i0">To living jewels, that took wing and flew.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And once a creeping worm, within my sight</span> -<span class="i0">Wove its own shroud and coffin, sealed and white</span> -<span class="i0">Then, bursting from its cerements, soared in air,</span> -<span class="i0">A radiant vision, most supremely fair.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out of the darksome mould, before my eyes</span> -<span class="i0">I saw a shaft of emerald arise,</span> -<span class="i0">Bearing a silver chalice veined with gold,</span> -<span class="i0">And set with gems of splendors manifold.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once in a vast, pale, hollow pearl I stood,</span> -<span class="i0">When o’er the vaulted dome there swept a flood</span> -<span class="i0">Of lurid waves, and a dark funeral pyre</span> -<span class="i0">Took to its heart a globe of crimson fire.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pageant faded. Lo! the pearl became</span> -<span class="i0">A liquid sapphire, touched with rosy flame;</span> -<span class="i0">And as I gazed, a silver crescent hung</span> -<span class="i0">In violet depths, a thousand stars among.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw a woman, marvellously fair,</span> -<span class="i0">Flushed with warm life, and buoyant as the air;</span> -<span class="i0">Next morn she was a statue, breathless, cold,</span> -<span class="i0">A marble goddess of transcendent mould.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw a folded bud, in one short hour,</span> -<span class="i0">Open its sweet, warm heart and be a flower.</span> -<span class="i0">O Wonderland! thou art so near, so far;</span> -<span class="i0">Near as this rose, remote as yonder star!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE GUEST</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O thou Guest so long delayed,</span> -<span class="i0">Surely, when the house was made,</span> -<span class="i0">In its chambers wide and free,</span> -<span class="i0">There was set a place for thee.</span> -<span class="i0">Surely, in some room was spread</span> -<span class="i0">For thy sake a snowy bed,</span> -<span class="i0">Decked with linen white and fine,</span> -<span class="i0">Meet, O Guest, for use of thine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet thou hast not kept the tryst.</span> -<span class="i0">Other guests our lips have kissed:</span> -<span class="i0">Other guests have tarried long,</span> -<span class="i0">Wooed by sunshine and by song;</span> -<span class="i0">For the year was bright with May,</span> -<span class="i0">All the birds kept holiday,</span> -<span class="i0">All the skies were clear and blue,</span> -<span class="i0">When this house of ours was new.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Youth came in with us to dwell,</span> -<span class="i0">Crowned with rose and asphodel,</span> -<span class="i0">Lingered long, and even yet</span> -<span class="i0">Cannot quite his haunts forget.</span> -<span class="i0">Love hath sat beside our board,</span> -<span class="i0">Brought us treasures from his hoard,</span> -<span class="i0">Brimmed our cups with fragrant wine,</span> -<span class="i0">Vintage of the hills divine.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down our garden path has strayed</span> -<span class="i0">Young Romance, in light arrayed;</span> -<span class="i0">Joy hath flung her garlands wide;</span> -<span class="i0">Faith sung low at eventide;</span> -<span class="i0">Care hath flitted in and out;</span> -<span class="i0">Sorrow strewn her weeds about;</span> -<span class="i0">Hope held up her torch on high</span> -<span class="i0">When clouds darkened all the sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pain, with pallid lips and thin,</span> -<span class="i0">Oft hath slept our house within;</span> -<span class="i0">Life hath called us, loud and long,</span> -<span class="i0">With a voice as trumpet strong.</span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes we have thought, O Guest,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou wert coming with the rest,</span> -<span class="i0">Watched to see thy shadow fall</span> -<span class="i0">On the inner chamber wall.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For we know that, soon or late,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou wilt enter at the gate,</span> -<span class="i0">Cross the threshold, pass the door,</span> -<span class="i0">Glide at will from floor to floor.</span> -<span class="i0">When thou comest, by this sign</span> -<span class="i0">We shall know thee, Guest divine:</span> -<span class="i0">Though alone thy coming be,</span> -<span class="i0">Someone must go forth with thee!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AN OLD-FASHIONED GARDEN</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An old-fashioned garden? Yes, my dear,</span> -<span class="i0">No doubt it is. I was thinking here</span> -<span class="i0">Only to-day, as I sat in the sun,</span> -<span class="i0">How fair was the scene I looked upon;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet wondered still, with a vague surprise,</span> -<span class="i0">How it might look to other eyes.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis a wide old garden. Not a bed</span> -<span class="i0">Cut here and there in the turf; instead,</span> -<span class="i0">The broad straight paths run east and west,</span> -<span class="i0">Down which two horsemen could ride abreast,</span> -<span class="i0">And north and south with an equal state,</span> -<span class="i0">From the gray stone wall to the low white gate.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, where they cross on the middle line,</span> -<span class="i0">Virgin’s-bower and wild woodbine</span> -<span class="i0">Clamber and climb at their own sweet will</span> -<span class="i0">Over the latticed arbor still;</span> -<span class="i0">Though since they were planted years have flown,</span> -<span class="i0">And many a time have the roses blown.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To the right the hill runs down to the river,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the willows droop and the aspens shiver,</span> -<span class="i0">And under the shade of the hemlock-trees</span> -<span class="i0">The low ferns nod to the passing breeze;</span> -<span class="i0">There wild flowers blossom, and mosses creep</span> -<span class="i0">With a tangle of vines o’er the wooded steep.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So quiet it is, so cool and still,</span> -<span class="i0">In the green retreat of the shady hill!</span> -<span class="i0">And you scarce can tell, as you look within,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the garden ends and the woods begin.</span> -<span class="i0">But here, where we stand, what a blaze of light,</span> -<span class="i0">What a wealth of color, makes glad the sight!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Red roses burn in the morning glow;</span> -<span class="i0">White roses proffer their cups of snow;</span> -<span class="i0">In scarlet and crimson and cloth-of-gold</span> -<span class="i0">The zinnias flaunt, and the marigold;</span> -<span class="i0">And stately and tall the lilies stand,</span> -<span class="i0">Like vestal virgins, on either hand.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here gay sweet-peas, like butterflies,</span> -<span class="i0">Flutter and dance under summer skies;</span> -<span class="i0">Blue violets here in the shade are set,</span> -<span class="i0">With a border of fragrant mignonette;</span> -<span class="i0">And here are pansies and columbine,</span> -<span class="i0">And the burning stars of the cypress-vine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stately hollyhocks, row on row,</span> -<span class="i0">Golden sunflowers, all aglow,</span> -<span class="i0">Scarlet poppies, and larkspurs blue,</span> -<span class="i0">Asters of every shade and hue;</span> -<span class="i0">And over the wall, like a trail of fire,</span> -<span class="i0">The red nasturtium climbs high and higher.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lady’s-slippers are fair to see,</span> -<span class="i0">And her pinks are as sweet as sweet can be,</span> -<span class="i0">With gilly-flowers and mourning-brides,</span> -<span class="i0">And many another flower besides.</span> -<span class="i0">Do you see that rose without a thorn?</span> -<span class="i0">It was planted the year my Hal was born.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he is a man now. Yes, my dear,</span> -<span class="i0">An old-fashioned garden! But, sitting here,</span> -<span class="i0">I think how often lover and maid</span> -<span class="i0">Down these long flowery paths have strayed,</span> -<span class="i0">And how little feet have over them run</span> -<span class="i0">That will stir no more in shade or sun.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As one who reads from an open book,</span> -<span class="i0">On these fair luminous scrolls I look;</span> -<span class="i0">And all the story of life is there—</span> -<span class="i0">Its loves and losses, hope and despair.</span> -<span class="i0">An old-fashioned garden—but to my eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Fair as the hills of Paradise.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>DISCONTENT</h3> - -<h4>I.</h4> - -<p class="center">(<i>The Brier Rose speaks.</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I cling to the garden wall</span> -<span class="i2">Outside, where the grasses grow;</span> -<span class="i0">Where the tall weeds flaunt in the sun,</span> -<span class="i2">And the yellow mulleins blow.</span> -<span class="i0">The dock and the thistle crowd</span> -<span class="i2">Close to my shrinking feet,</span> -<span class="i0">And the gypsy yarrow shares</span> -<span class="i2">My cup and the food I eat.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rude winds toss my hair,</span> -<span class="i2">The wild rains beat me down,</span> -<span class="i0">The way-side dust lies white</span> -<span class="i2">And thick on my leafy crown.</span> -<span class="i0">I cannot keep my robes</span> -<span class="i2">From wanton fingers free,</span> -<span class="i0">And the veriest beggar dares</span> -<span class="i2">To stop and gaze at me.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes I climb and climb</span> -<span class="i2">To the top of the garden wall,</span> -<span class="i0">And I see her where she stands,</span> -<span class="i2">Stately and fair and tall—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span> -<span class="i0">My sister, the red, red Rose,</span> -<span class="i2">My sister, the royal one,</span> -<span class="i0">The fairest flower that blows</span> -<span class="i2">Under the summer sun!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What wonder that she is fair?</span> -<span class="i2">What wonder that she is sweet?</span> -<span class="i0">The treasures of earth and air</span> -<span class="i2">Lie at her dainty feet;</span> -<span class="i0">The choicest fare is hers,</span> -<span class="i2">Her cup is brimmed with wine;</span> -<span class="i0">Rich are her emerald robes,</span> -<span class="i2">And her bed is soft and fine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She need not lift her head</span> -<span class="i2">Even to sip the dew;</span> -<span class="i0">No rude touch makes her shrink</span> -<span class="i2">The whole long summer through.</span> -<span class="i0">Her servants do her will;</span> -<span class="i2">They come at her beck and call.</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, rare is life in my lady’s bowers</span> -<span class="i2">Inside of the garden wall!</span> -</div></div></div> - -<h4>II.</h4> - -<p class="center">(<i>The Garden Rose speaks.</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The garden path runs east,</span> -<span class="i2">And the garden path runs west;</span> -<span class="i0">There’s a tree by the garden gate,</span> -<span class="i2">And a little bird in a nest.</span> -<span class="i0">It sings and sings and sings!</span> -<span class="i2">Does the bird, I wonder, know</span> -<span class="i0">How, over the garden wall,</span> -<span class="i2">The bright days come and go?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The garden path runs north,</span> -<span class="i2">And the garden path runs south;</span> -<span class="i0">The brown bee hums in the sun,</span> -<span class="i2">And kisses the lily’s mouth;</span> -<span class="i0">But it flies away, away,</span> -<span class="i2">To the birch-tree, dark and tall.</span> -<span class="i0">What do you find, O brown bee,</span> -<span class="i2">Over the garden wall?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With ruff and farthingale,</span> -<span class="i2">Under the gardener’s eye,</span> -<span class="i0">In trimmest guise I stand—</span> -<span class="i2">Oh, who so fine as I?</span> -<span class="i0">But even the light wind knows</span> -<span class="i2">That it may not play with me,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor touch my beautiful lips</span> -<span class="i2">With a wild caress and free.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, straight is the garden path,</span> -<span class="i2">And smooth is the garden bed,</span> -<span class="i0">Where never an idle weed</span> -<span class="i2">Dares lift its careless head.</span> -<span class="i0">But I know outside the wall</span> -<span class="i2">They gather, a merry throng;</span> -<span class="i0">They dance and flutter and sing,</span> -<span class="i2">And I listen all day long.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Brier Rose swings outside;</span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes she climbs so high</span> -<span class="i0">I can see her sweet pink face</span> -<span class="i2">Against the blue of the sky.</span> -<span class="i0">What wonder that she is fair,</span> -<span class="i2">Whom no strait bonds enthrall?</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, rare is life to the Brier Rose,</span> -<span class="i2">Outside of the garden wall!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE DOVES AT MENDON</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné,</span> -<span class="i4">Calling the doves at Mendon!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under the vine-clad porch she stands,</span> -<span class="i0">A gentle maiden with willing hands,</span> -<span class="i0">Dropping the grains of yellow corn.</span> -<span class="i0">Low and soft, like a mellow horn,</span> -<span class="i0">While the sunshine over her falls,</span> -<span class="i0">Over and over she calls and calls</span> -<span class="i4">“Coo! coo! coo!” to the doves—</span> -<span class="i4">The happy doves at Mendon.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné,</span> -<span class="i4">Calling the doves at Mendon!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down they flutter with timid grace,</span> -<span class="i0">Lured by the voice and the tender face,</span> -<span class="i0">Till the evening air is all astir</span> -<span class="i0">With the happy strife and the eager whir.</span> -<span class="i0">One by one, and two by two,</span> -<span class="i0">And then a rush through the ether blue;</span> -<span class="i4">While Arné scatters the yellow corn</span> -<span class="i4">For the gentle doves at Mendon.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné,</span> -<span class="i4">Calling the doves at Mendon!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They hop on the porch where the baby sits,</span> -<span class="i0">They come and go as a shadow flits,</span> -<span class="i0">Now here, now there, while in and out</span> -<span class="i0">They crowd and jostle each other about;</span> -<span class="i0">Till one, grown bolder than all the rest—</span> -<span class="i0">A snow-white dove with an arching breast—</span> -<span class="i4">Softly lights on her outstretched hand</span> -<span class="i4">Under the vines at Mendon.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné,</span> -<span class="i4">Calling the doves at Mendon!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With a rush and a whir of shining wings,</span> -<span class="i0">They hear and obey—the dainty things!</span> -<span class="i0">Dun and purple and snowy white,</span> -<span class="i0">Clouded gray, like the soft twilight,</span> -<span class="i0">Straight as an arrow shot from a bow,</span> -<span class="i0">Wheeling and circling high and low,</span> -<span class="i4">Down they fly from the slanting roof</span> -<span class="i4">Of the old red barn at Mendon.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné,</span> -<span class="i4">Calling the doves at Mendon!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Baby Alice with wide blue eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Watches them ever with new surprise,</span> -<span class="i0">While she and Wag on the mat together</span> -<span class="i0">Joy in the soft midsummer weather.</span> -<span class="i0">Hither and thither she sees them fly,</span> -<span class="i0">Gray and white on the azure sky,</span> -<span class="i4">Light and shadow against the green</span> -<span class="i4">Of the maple grove at Mendon.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">“Coo! coo! coo!” says Arné,</span> -<span class="i4">Calling the doves at Mendon!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sound, a motion, a flash of wings—</span> -<span class="i0">They are gone—like a dream of heavenly things.</span> -<span class="i0">The doves have flown and the porch is still,</span> -<span class="i0">And the shadows gather on vale and hill.</span> -<span class="i0">Then sinks the sun, and the mountain breeze</span> -<span class="i0">Stirs in the tremulous maple-trees;</span> -<span class="i4">While Love and Peace, as the night comes down,</span> -<span class="i4">Brood over quiet Mendon!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A LATE ROSE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I sent a little maiden</span> -<span class="i2">To pluck for me a rose,</span> -<span class="i0">The sweetest and the fairest</span> -<span class="i2">That in the garden grows—</span> -<span class="i0">A blush-rose, proud and tender,</span> -<span class="i0">Upon its stem so slender,</span> -<span class="i0">Swaying in dreamy splendor</span> -<span class="i2">Where yellow sunshine glows.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Back came the little maiden</span> -<span class="i2">With drooping, downcast head,</span> -<span class="i0">And slow, reluctant footsteps,</span> -<span class="i2">And this to me she said:</span> -<span class="i0">“I find no sweet blush-roses</span> -<span class="i0">In all the garden closes:</span> -<span class="i0">There are no summer roses;</span> -<span class="i2">It must be they are dead!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then bent I to the maiden</span> -<span class="i2">And touched her shining hair—</span> -<span class="i0">Dear heart! in all the garden</span> -<span class="i2">Was nothing half so fair!</span> -<span class="i0">“Nay!” said I, “let the roses</span> -<span class="i0">Die in the garden closes</span> -<span class="i0">Whenever fate disposes,</span> -<span class="i2">If I <i>this</i> rose may wear!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>PERIWINKLE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Tinkle, tinkle,</span> -<span class="i10">Periwinkle!</span> -<span class="i12">Soft and clear,</span> -<span class="i12">Far or near,</span> -<span class="i0">Still the mellow notes I hear!</span> -<span class="i2">Up and down the sunny hills,</span> -<span class="i4">Here you go, there you go,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the happy mountain rills</span> -<span class="i4">Tinkle soft, tinkle low;</span> -<span class="i0">Where the willows, all a-quiver,</span> -<span class="i0">Dip their long wands in the river,</span> -<span class="i0">And the hemlock shadows fall</span> -<span class="i0">By the gray rocks, cool and tall—</span> -<span class="i10">In and out,</span> -<span class="i10">And round about,</span> -<span class="i12">Here you go,</span> -<span class="i12">There you go!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Tinkle, tinkle,</span> -<span class="i10">Periwinkle!</span> -<span class="i12">Here and there,</span> -<span class="i12">Everywhere,</span> -<span class="i0">Floats the music on the air!</span> -<span class="i2">Through the pastures wide and free,</span> -<span class="i4">Here you go, there you go,</span> -<span class="i2">Making friends with bird and bee,</span> -<span class="i4">Flying high, flying low;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> -<span class="i0">In and out, where lilies blowing</span> -<span class="i0">Nod above wild grasses growing,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the sweet-fern and the brake</span> -<span class="i0">All around rich odors make,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the mosses cling and creep</span> -<span class="i0">To the rocks, and up the steep—</span> -<span class="i10">In and out</span> -<span class="i10">You wind about,</span> -<span class="i12">Here and there,</span> -<span class="i12">Everywhere!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Tinkle, tinkle,</span> -<span class="i10">Periwinkle!</span> -<span class="i12">Day is done,</span> -<span class="i12">And the sun</span> -<span class="i0">Now its royal couch hath won!</span> -<span class="i2">Homeward through the winding lane,</span> -<span class="i4">Here you go, there you go,</span> -<span class="i2">While the bell in sweet refrain</span> -<span class="i4">Tinkles clear, tinkles low—</span> -<span class="i0">Tinkles softly through the gloaming,</span> -<span class="i0">“Drop the bars—I’m tired of roaming</span> -<span class="i0">Here and there, everywhere</span> -<span class="i0">Through the pastures wide and fair.</span> -<span class="i12">Home is best,</span> -<span class="i12">Home and rest!”</span> -<span class="i0">Through the bars goes Periwinkle,</span> -<span class="i0">While the bell goes tinkle, tinkle,</span> -<span class="i12">Low and clear,</span> -<span class="i0">Saying, softly, “Night is here!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AFTERNOON</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">O perfect day,</span> -<span class="i8">I bid thee stay!</span> -<span class="i0">Too fast thy glad hours slip away;</span> -<span class="i8">The morn, the noon,</span> -<span class="i8">Have fled too soon—</span> -<span class="i0">Delay, O golden afternoon!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">O peerless Sun,</span> -<span class="i8">Thou radiant one</span> -<span class="i0">Whose dazzling course is half-way run,</span> -<span class="i8">Stay, stay thy flight</span> -<span class="i8">Down yon blue height,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor haste thee to the arms of night!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">The west wind blows</span> -<span class="i8">O’er beds of rose,</span> -<span class="i0">But does not stir my deep repose.</span> -<span class="i8">In dreamful guise</span> -<span class="i8">I close mine eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Borne on its wings to Paradise.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Beneath this tree</span> -<span class="i8">Half consciously.</span> -<span class="i0">I share the life of all things free,</span> -<span class="i8">Hearing the beat</span> -<span class="i8">Of rhythmic feet,</span> -<span class="i0">As the grasses run my hand to meet.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">The wild bee’s hum,</span> -<span class="i8">The lone bird’s drum,</span> -<span class="i0">O’er the wide pastures faintly come;</span> -<span class="i8">And soft and clear</span> -<span class="i8">Falls on my ear</span> -<span class="i0">The cow-bell’s tinkle, far and near!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Before my eyes</span> -<span class="i8">Three blue peaks rise,</span> -<span class="i0">Piercing the bright autumnal skies;</span> -<span class="i8">Silent and grand,</span> -<span class="i8">On either hand,</span> -<span class="i0">Far mountain heights majestic stand.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">By wreaths of mist</span> -<span class="i8">The vales are kissed—</span> -<span class="i0">Fair, floating clouds of amethyst,</span> -<span class="i8">That follow on,</span> -<span class="i8">Through shade and sun,</span> -<span class="i0">Where’er the river’s course may run.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Here, looking down</span> -<span class="i8">On roof-trees brown,</span> -<span class="i0">I catch fair glimpses of the town.</span> -<span class="i8">There, far away,</span> -<span class="i8">The shadows play</span> -<span class="i0">On crags and bowlders, huge and gray.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">All whispering low,</span> -<span class="i8">The breezes go—</span> -<span class="i0">The wandering birds flit to and fro;</span> -<span class="i8">Winged motes float by</span> -<span class="i8">Me as I lie,</span> -<span class="i0">And yellow leaves drop silently.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">The morn, the noon,</span> -<span class="i8">Have fled too soon—</span> -<span class="i0">Delay, O golden afternoon,</span> -<span class="i8">While with rapt eyes</span> -<span class="i8">My spirit flies</span> -<span class="i0">From yon blue peaks to Paradise!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE LADY OF THE PROW<br /><br /><small>BERMUDA, MAY, 1883</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The salt tides ebb, the salt tides flow,</span> -<span class="i0">From the near isles the soft airs blow;</span> -<span class="i0">From leagues remote, with roar and din,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the reefs the waves rush in;</span> -<span class="i0">The wild white breakers foam and fret,</span> -<span class="i0">Day follows day, stars rise and set;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet, grandly poised, as calm and fair</span> -<span class="i0">As some proud spirit of the air,</span> -<span class="i0">Unmoved she lifts her radiant brow—</span> -<span class="i0">She, the White Lady of the Prow!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The winds blow east, the winds blow west,</span> -<span class="i0">From woodlands low to the eagle’s nest;</span> -<span class="i0">The winds blow north, the winds blow south.</span> -<span class="i0">To steal the sweets from the lily’s mouth!</span> -<span class="i0">We come and go; we spread our sails</span> -<span class="i0">Like sea-gulls to the favoring gales;</span> -<span class="i0">Or, soft and slow, our oars we dip</span> -<span class="i0">Under the lee of the stranded ship.</span> -<span class="i0">Yet little recks she when or how,</span> -<span class="i0">The grand White Lady of the Prow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We laugh, we love, we smile, we sigh,</span> -<span class="i0">But never she heeds as we glide by—</span> -<span class="i0">Never she cares for our idle ways</span> -<span class="i0">Nor turns from the brink of the world her gaze!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span> -<span class="i0">What does she see when her steadfast eyes</span> -<span class="i0">Peer into the sunset mysteries,</span> -<span class="i0">And all the secrets of time and space</span> -<span class="i0">Seem unfolded before her face?</span> -<span class="i0">What does she hear when, pale and calm,</span> -<span class="i0">She lists for the great sea’s evening psalm?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Speak, Lady, speak! Thy sealèd lip,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou fair white spirit of the ship,</span> -<span class="i0">Could tell such tales of high emprise,</span> -<span class="i0">Of valorous deeds and counsels wise!</span> -<span class="i0">What prince shall rouse thee from thy trance,</span> -<span class="i0">And meet thy first revealing glance,</span> -<span class="i0">Or what Pygmalion from her sleep</span> -<span class="i0">Bid Galatea wake and weep?</span> -<span class="i0">The wave’s wild passion stirs thee not—</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, is thy life’s long love forgot?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How canst thou bear this trancèd calm</span> -<span class="i0">By sunlit isles of bloom and balm—</span> -<span class="i0">Thou who hast sailed the utmost seas,</span> -<span class="i0">Empress alike of wave and breeze;</span> -<span class="i0">Thou who hast swept from pole to pole,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the great surges swell and roll;</span> -<span class="i0">Breasted the billows white with wrath,</span> -<span class="i0">Rode in the tempest’s fiery path,</span> -<span class="i0">And proudly borne to waiting hands</span> -<span class="i0">The glorious spoil of farthest lands?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How canst thou bear this silence, deep</span> -<span class="i0">And tranquil as an infant’s sleep—</span> -<span class="i0">Thou who hast heard above thy head</span> -<span class="i0">The white sails sing with wings outspread;</span> -<span class="i0">Thou whose strong soul has thrilled to feel</span> -<span class="i0">The swift rush of the ploughing keel,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span> -<span class="i0">The dash of waves, and the wild uproar</span> -<span class="i0">Of ocean lashed from shore to shore?</span> -<span class="i0">How canst thou bear this changeless rest,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou who hast made the world thy quest?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Lady of the stranded ship,</span> -<span class="i0">Once more our lingering oars we dip</span> -<span class="i0">In the clear blue that round thee lies,</span> -<span class="i0">Fanned by the airs of Paradise!</span> -<span class="i0">Farewell! farewell! But oft when day</span> -<span class="i0">On our far hill-tops dies away,</span> -<span class="i0">And night’s cool winds the pine-trees bow,</span> -<span class="i0">Our eyes will see thee, even as now,</span> -<span class="i0">Waiting—a spirit pale and calm—</span> -<span class="i0">To hear the great sea’s evening psalm!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THOU AND I</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">April days are over!</span> -<span class="i0">O my gay young lover,</span> -<span class="i0">Forth we fare together</span> -<span class="i0">In the soft May weather;</span> -<span class="i0">Forth we wander, hand in hand,</span> -<span class="i0">Seeking an enchanted land</span> -<span class="i0">Underneath a smiling sky,</span> -<span class="i4">So blithely—thou and I!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soft spring days are over!</span> -<span class="i0">O my ardent lover,</span> -<span class="i0">Many a hill together,</span> -<span class="i0">In the July weather,</span> -<span class="i0">Climb we when the days are long</span> -<span class="i0">And the summer heats are strong,</span> -<span class="i0">And the harvest wains go by,</span> -<span class="i4">So bravely—thou and I!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">July days are over!</span> -<span class="i0">O my faithful lover,</span> -<span class="i0">Side by side together</span> -<span class="i0">In the August weather,</span> -<span class="i0">When the swift, wild storms befall us,</span> -<span class="i0">And the fiery darts appall us,</span> -<span class="i0">Wait we till the clouds sweep by,</span> -<span class="i4">And stars shine—thou and I!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Summer days are over!</span> -<span class="i0">O my one true lover,</span> -<span class="i0">Sit we now alone together</span> -<span class="i0">In the early autumn weather!</span> -<span class="i0">From our nest the birds have flown</span> -<span class="i0">To fair dreamlands of their own,</span> -<span class="i0">And we see the days go by,</span> -<span class="i4">In silence—thou and I!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Storm and stress are over!</span> -<span class="i0">O my friend and lover,</span> -<span class="i0">Closer now we lean together</span> -<span class="i0">In the Indian-summer weather;</span> -<span class="i0">See the bright leaves falling, falling,</span> -<span class="i0">Hear the low winds calling, calling,</span> -<span class="i0">Glad to let the world go by</span> -<span class="i4">Unheeding—thou and I!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Winter days are over!</span> -<span class="i0">O my life-long lover,</span> -<span class="i0">Rest we now in peace together</span> -<span class="i0">Out of reach of changeful weather!</span> -<span class="i0">Not a sound can mar our sleeping—</span> -<span class="i0">Breath of laughter, or of weeping,</span> -<span class="i0">May not reach us where we lie</span> -<span class="i4">Uncaring—thou and I!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> -<h2>LATER POEMS</h2> -<p><span class="pagenum2"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span></p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span></p> - -<h3>THE LEGEND OF THE BABOUSHKA<br /><br /><small>A CHRISTMAS BALLAD</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“There’s a star in the East!” he cried,</span> -<span class="i2">Jasper, the gray, the wise,</span> -<span class="i0">To Melchior and to Balthazar</span> -<span class="i2">Up-gazing to the skies.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Last night from my high tower</span> -<span class="i2">I watched it as it burned,</span> -<span class="i0">While all my trembling soul</span> -<span class="i2">In awe and wonder yearned.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For I know the midnight heavens;</span> -<span class="i2">I can call the stars by name—</span> -<span class="i0">Orion and royal Ashtaroth</span> -<span class="i2">And Cimah’s misty flame.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know where Hesper glows,</span> -<span class="i2">And where, with fiery eye,</span> -<span class="i0">Proud Mars in burning splendor leads</span> -<span class="i2">The armies of the sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But never have I seen</span> -<span class="i2">A star that shone like this—</span> -<span class="i0">The star so long foretold</span> -<span class="i2">By sage and seer it is!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When first I, sleepless, saw it</span> -<span class="i2">Slow breaking through the dark—</span> -<span class="i0">Nay, hear me, Balthazar,</span> -<span class="i2">And thou, O Melchior, hark!—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When first I saw the star</span> -<span class="i2">It bore the form of a child,</span> -<span class="i0">It held in its hand a sceptre,</span> -<span class="i2">Or the cross of the undefiled.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo! somewhere on the earth</span> -<span class="i2">It shines above His rest—</span> -<span class="i0">The Royal One, the Babe,</span> -<span class="i2">On mortal mother’s breast.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now haste we forth to find Him—</span> -<span class="i2">To worship at His feet,</span> -<span class="i0">To Him of whom the prophets sang</span> -<span class="i2">Bearing oblations meet!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the Three Holy Kings</span> -<span class="i2">Went forth in eager haste,</span> -<span class="i0">With servants and with camels,</span> -<span class="i2">Toward the desert waste.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! knew they what they bore?</span> -<span class="i2">Gold for the earthly king—</span> -<span class="i0">Frankincense for the God—</span> -<span class="i2">Myrrh for man’s suffering.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With breath of costly spices</span> -<span class="i0">And precious gums of Isis,</span> -<span class="i2">The desert air was sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">As on they fared by day and night</span> -<span class="i2">Judea’s King to greet.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The strange star went before them,</span> -<span class="i2">They followed where it led;</span> -<span class="i0">“’Twill guide us to His presence,”</span> -<span class="i2">Jasper, the holy, said.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They crossed deep-flowing rivers,</span> -<span class="i2">They climbed the mountains high,</span> -<span class="i0">They slept in dreary places</span> -<span class="i2">Under the lonely sky.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One day, where stretched the desert</span> -<span class="i2">Before them far and wide,</span> -<span class="i0">They saw a smoke-wreath curling</span> -<span class="i2">A spreading palm beside;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And from a lowly dwelling,</span> -<span class="i2">On household cares intent,</span> -<span class="i0">A woman gazed upon them,</span> -<span class="i2">In mute bewilderment.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“O come with us!” cried Melchior,</span> -<span class="i2">And ardent Balthazar,</span> -<span class="i0">“We go to find the Christ-child,</span> -<span class="i2">Led by yon blazing star!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou knowest how the prophets</span> -<span class="i2">His coming long foretold;</span> -<span class="i0">We go to kneel before Him</span> -<span class="i2">With gifts of myrrh and gold.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But she, delaying, answered,</span> -<span class="i2">“My lords, your words are good,</span> -<span class="i0">And I your pious mission</span> -<span class="i2">Have gladly understood,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet I, ere I can join you,</span> -<span class="i2">Have many things to do:</span> -<span class="i0">I must set my house in order,</span> -<span class="i2">Must spin and bake and brew.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Go ye to find Messiah!</span> -<span class="i2">And when my work is done</span> -<span class="i0">I will your footsteps follow,</span> -<span class="i2">Mayhap ere set of sun.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Across the shining desert</span> -<span class="i2">The slow train passed from sight;</span> -<span class="i0">She set her house in order,</span> -<span class="i2">She bleached her linen white.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With busy hands she labored</span> -<span class="i2">Till all at last was done—</span> -<span class="i0">But thrice the moon had risen,</span> -<span class="i2">And thrice the lordly sun!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then bound she on her sandals,</span> -<span class="i2">Her pilgrim staff she took;</span> -<span class="i0">With bread of wheat and barley,</span> -<span class="i2">And water from the brook;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And forth she went to find Him—</span> -<span class="i2">The babe Emmanuel,</span> -<span class="i0">Who should be born in Bethlehem</span> -<span class="i2">By David’s sacred well.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All that long day she journeyed;</span> -<span class="i2">She scanned the desert wide,</span> -<span class="i0">In all its lonely reaches</span> -<span class="i2">There was no soul beside—</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No track to guide her onward,</span> -<span class="i2">No footprints in the sand,</span> -<span class="i0">Only the vast, still spaces</span> -<span class="i2">Wide-stretched on either hand!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Night came—but where the Wise Men</span> -<span class="i2">Had seen His burning star,</span> -<span class="i0">No glorious sign beheld she</span> -<span class="i2">Clear beaming from afar,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though Orion and Arcturus</span> -<span class="i2">Shone bright above her head,</span> -<span class="i0">And up the heavenly arches</span> -<span class="i2">Proud Mars his legions led!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She did not find the Christ-child.</span> -<span class="i2">’Tis said she seeks Him still,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the wide earth roaming</span> -<span class="i2">With swift, remorseful will.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her thin white locks the dew-fall</span> -<span class="i2">Of every clime has wet—</span> -<span class="i0">In palace and in hovel</span> -<span class="i2">She seeks Messiah yet!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In every child she fancies</span> -<span class="i2">The Hidden One may be,</span> -<span class="i0">On each bright head she gazes</span> -<span class="i2">The mystic crown to see.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She twines the Christmas garlands,</span> -<span class="i2">She lights the Christmas fires,</span> -<span class="i0">She leads the joyful carols</span> -<span class="i2">Of all the Christmas choirs;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She feeds the poor and hungry,</span> -<span class="i2">And on her tender breast</span> -<span class="i0">She soothes all suffering children</span> -<span class="i2">To softest, sweetest rest.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Attend her, holy Angels!</span> -<span class="i2">Guard her, ye Cherubim!</span> -<span class="i0">For whatsoe’er she does for these</span> -<span class="i2">She does it as to Him!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>DAYBREAK<br /><br /><small>AN EASTER POEM</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mary Magdalenè,</span> -<span class="i2">At the break of day,</span> -<span class="i0">Wan with tears and watching</span> -<span class="i2">Hasted on her way;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bearing costly spices,</span> -<span class="i2">Myrrh, and sweet perfume,</span> -<span class="i0">Through the shadowy garden</span> -<span class="i2">To the Master’s tomb.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slowly broke the gray dawn:</span> -<span class="i2">On her head the breeze</span> -<span class="i0">Shook a rain of dew-drops</span> -<span class="i2">From the cypress-trees.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rose and lily parted</span> -<span class="i2">As to let her pass,</span> -<span class="i0">And the violets blessed her</span> -<span class="i2">From the tender grass.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little heed she paid them;</span> -<span class="i2">Christ, the Lord, was dead;</span> -<span class="i0">All at last was over,</span> -<span class="i2">All at last was said.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What of hope remainèd?</span> -<span class="i2">Black against the sky,</span> -<span class="i0">Calvary’s awful crosses</span> -<span class="i2">Stretched their arms on high!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mary Magdalenè</span> -<span class="i2">Made her bitter moan:</span> -<span class="i0">“From the sealèd sepulchre</span> -<span class="i2">Who shall roll the stone?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Swift she ran, her spirit</span> -<span class="i2">Filled with awe and fear;</span> -<span class="i0">Wide the door stood open</span> -<span class="i2">As her feet drew near!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All the place was flooded</span> -<span class="i2">With a radiance bright;</span> -<span class="i0">Forth into the darkness</span> -<span class="i2">Streamed a holy light.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down she stooped, and peering</span> -<span class="i2">The dread tomb within,</span> -<span class="i0">Saw a great white angel</span> -<span class="i2">Where the Lord had been!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sore she cried in anguish:</span> -<span class="i2">“Who hath him betrayed?</span> -<span class="i0">They have taken away my Lord!</span> -<span class="i2">Where is he laid?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Nay,” the shining angel,</span> -<span class="i2">Calmly smiling, said—</span> -<span class="i0">“Why seek ye the living</span> -<span class="i2">Down among the dead?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He is not here, but risen!”</span> -<span class="i2">All her soul stood still;</span> -<span class="i0">Through her trembling pulses</span> -<span class="i2">Ran a conscious thrill.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Mary!” said a low voice;</span> -<span class="i2">“Rabboni!” answered she.</span> -<span class="i0">Then life was brought to light</span> -<span class="i2">And immortality!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mary Magdalenè,</span> -<span class="i2">First of woman born</span> -<span class="i0">To see the clear light streaming</span> -<span class="i2">O’er the hills of morn;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First to hail the Lord Christ,</span> -<span class="i2">Conqueror of Death,</span> -<span class="i0">First to bow before Him</span> -<span class="i2">With abated breath;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First to hear the Master</span> -<span class="i2">Say—“From Death’s dark prison,</span> -<span class="i0">From its bonds and fetters,</span> -<span class="i2">Lo! I have arisen!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now to God, my Father—</span> -<span class="i2">Mine and yours—I go;</span> -<span class="i0">And because I live</span> -<span class="i2">Ye shall live also!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Didst thou grasp the meaning?</span> -<span class="i2">Know that Death was dead?</span> -<span class="i0">That the seed of woman</span> -<span class="i2">Had bruised the serpent’s head?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Didst thou know Messiah</span> -<span class="i2">The gates of hell had broken,</span> -<span class="i0">And life unto its captives</span> -<span class="i2">Once for all had spoken?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O! through all the ages,</span> -<span class="i2">Every son of man,</span> -<span class="i0">Be he slave or monarch,</span> -<span class="i2">Born to bliss or ban—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lord, or prince, or peasant,</span> -<span class="i2">Jester, sage, or seer,</span> -<span class="i0">Wife, or child, or mother,</span> -<span class="i2">Priest, or worshipper—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the grave’s lone portals</span> -<span class="i2">Soon or late had passed,</span> -<span class="i0">But no sign or token</span> -<span class="i2">Back to earth had cast!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Ramah was a voice heard</span> -<span class="i2">Sounding through the years—</span> -<span class="i0">Rachel for her children</span> -<span class="i2">Pouring sighs and tears;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rizpah for her slain sons</span> -<span class="i2">Woful vigils keeping;</span> -<span class="i0">David for young Absalom</span> -<span class="i2">In the chamber weeping!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All earth’s myriad millions</span> -<span class="i2">To their dead had cried,</span> -<span class="i0">Empty arms outreaching</span> -<span class="i2">In the silence wide,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet from out the darkness</span> -<span class="i2">Came nor word, nor sound,</span> -<span class="i0">As the long ranks vanished</span> -<span class="i2">In the black profound—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Came no word till Mary</span> -<span class="i2">Heard the Angel say—</span> -<span class="i0">“Christ the Lord is risen;</span> -<span class="i2">The Lord Christ lives to-day!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the empty sepulchre</span> -<span class="i2">Streamed the Light Divine;</span> -<span class="i0">Grave where is thy victory?</span> -<span class="i2">Where, O Death, is thine?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mary Magdalenè,</span> -<span class="i2">Hope is born again;</span> -<span class="i0">Clear the Day-star rises</span> -<span class="i2">To the eyes of men.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo! the mists are fleeing!</span> -<span class="i2">Shine, O Olivet,</span> -<span class="i0">For the crown of promise</span> -<span class="i2">On thy brow is set!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lift your heads, ye mountains!</span> -<span class="i2">Clap your hands, ye hills!</span> -<span class="i0">Into rapturous singing</span> -<span class="i2">Break, ye murmuring rills!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shout aloud, O forests!</span> -<span class="i2">Swell the song, O seas!</span> -<span class="i0">Wake, resistless ocean,</span> -<span class="i2">All your symphonies!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wave your palms, O tropics!</span> -<span class="i2">Lonely isles, rejoice!</span> -<span class="i0">O ye silent deserts,</span> -<span class="i2">Find a choral voice!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Winds, on mighty trumpets,</span> -<span class="i2">Blow the strains abroad,</span> -<span class="i0">While each star in heaven</span> -<span class="i2">Hails its risen Lord!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Alleluia! Alleluia!”—</span> -<span class="i2">How the voices ring!</span> -<span class="i0">“Alleluia! Alleluia!”</span> -<span class="i2">Earth and heaven sing!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alleluia! Christ is risen!</span> -<span class="i2">Chant his praise alway!</span> -<span class="i0">From the sealèd sepulchre</span> -<span class="i2">Christ is risen to-day!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE APPLE-TREE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Graceful and lithe and tall,</span> -<span class="i0">It stands by the garden wall,</span> -<span class="i0">In the flush of its pink-white bloom</span> -<span class="i0">Elate with its own perfume.</span> -<span class="i0">Tossing its young bright head</span> -<span class="i2">In the first glad joy of May,</span> -<span class="i0">While its singing leaves sing back</span> -<span class="i2">To the bird on the dancing spray.</span> -<span class="i0">“I’m alive! I’m abloom!” it cries</span> -<span class="i0">To the winds and the laughing skies.</span> -<span class="i0">Ho! for the gay young apple-tree</span> -<span class="i0">That stands by the garden wall!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sturdy and broad and tall,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the garden wall</span> -<span class="i0">It spreads its branches wide—</span> -<span class="i0">A bower on either side.</span> -<span class="i0">For the bending boughs hang low;</span> -<span class="i2">And with shouts and gay turmoil</span> -<span class="i0">The children gather like bees</span> -<span class="i2">To garner the golden spoil;</span> -<span class="i0">While the smiling mother sings,</span> -<span class="i0">“Rejoice for the gift it brings!</span> -<span class="i0">Ho! for the laden apple-tree</span> -<span class="i0">That stands by our garden wall!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The strong swift years fly past,</span> -<span class="i0">Each swifter than the last;</span> -<span class="i0">And the tree by the garden wall</span> -<span class="i0">Sees joy and grief befall.</span> -<span class="i0">Still from the spreading boughs</span> -<span class="i2">Some golden apples swing;</span> -<span class="i0">But the children come no more</span> -<span class="i2">For the autumn harvesting.</span> -<span class="i0">The tangled grass lies deep</span> -<span class="i0">Where the long path used to creep;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet ho! for the brave old apple-tree</span> -<span class="i0">That leans o’er the crumbling wall!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now generations pass,</span> -<span class="i0">Like shadows on the grass.</span> -<span class="i0">What is there that remains</span> -<span class="i0">For all their toil and pains?</span> -<span class="i0">A little hollow place</span> -<span class="i2">Where once a hearthstone lay;</span> -<span class="i0">An empty, silent space</span> -<span class="i2">Whence life hath gone away;</span> -<span class="i0">Tall brambles where the lilacs grew,</span> -<span class="i0">Some fennel, and a clump of rue,</span> -<span class="i0">And this one gnarled old apple-tree</span> -<span class="i0">Where once was the garden wall!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE COMFORTER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How dost thou come, O Comforter?</span> -<span class="i2">In heavenly glory dressed,</span> -<span class="i0">Down floating from the far-off skies,</span> -<span class="i2">With lilies on thy breast?</span> -<span class="i0">With silver lilies on thy breast,</span> -<span class="i2">And in thy falling hair,</span> -<span class="i0">Bringing the bloom and balm of heaven</span> -<span class="i2">To this dim, earthly air?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How dost thou come, O Comforter?</span> -<span class="i2">With strange, unearthly light,</span> -<span class="i0">And mystic splendor aureoled,</span> -<span class="i2">In trances of the night?</span> -<span class="i0">In lone, mysterious silences,</span> -<span class="i2">In visions rapt and high,</span> -<span class="i0">And holy dreams, like pathways set</span> -<span class="i2">Betwixt the earth and sky?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not thus alone, O Comforter!</span> -<span class="i2">Not thus, thou Guest Divine,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose presence turns our stones to bread,</span> -<span class="i2">Our water into wine!</span> -<span class="i0">Not always thus—for thou dost stoop</span> -<span class="i2">To our poor, common clay,</span> -<span class="i0">Too faint for saintly ecstasy,</span> -<span class="i2">Too impotent to pray.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How does God send the Comforter?</span> -<span class="i2">Ofttimes through byways dim;</span> -<span class="i0">Not always by the beaten path</span> -<span class="i2">Of sacrament and hymn;</span> -<span class="i0">Not always through the gates of prayer,</span> -<span class="i2">Or penitential psalm,</span> -<span class="i0">Or sacred rite, or holy day,</span> -<span class="i2">Or incense, breathing balm.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How does God send the Comforter?</span> -<span class="i2">Perchance through faith intense;</span> -<span class="i0">Perchance through humblest avenues</span> -<span class="i2">Of sight, or sound, or sense.</span> -<span class="i0">Haply in childhood’s laughing voice</span> -<span class="i2">Shall breathe the voice divine,</span> -<span class="i0">And tender hands of earthly love</span> -<span class="i2">Pour for thee heavenly wine!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How will God send the Comforter?</span> -<span class="i2">Thou knowest not, nor I!</span> -<span class="i0">His ways are countless as the stars</span> -<span class="i2">His hand hath hung on high.</span> -<span class="i0">His roses bring their fragrant balm,</span> -<span class="i2">His twilight hush its peace,</span> -<span class="i0">Morning its splendor, night its calm,</span> -<span class="i2">To give thy pain surcease!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>SANTA CLAUS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A voice from out of the northern sky:</span> -<span class="i0">“On the wings of the limitless winds I fly,</span> -<span class="i0">Swifter than thought over mountain and vale,</span> -<span class="i0">City and moorland, desert and dale!</span> -<span class="i0">From the north to the south, from the east to the west,</span> -<span class="i0">I hasten regardless of slumber or rest;</span> -<span class="i0">Oh, nothing you dream of can fly as fast</span> -<span class="i0">As I on the wings of the wintry blast!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wondering stars look out to see</span> -<span class="i0">Who he that flieth so fast may be,</span> -<span class="i0">And their bright eyes follow my earthward track</span> -<span class="i0">By the gleam of the jewels I bear in my pack.</span> -<span class="i0">For I have treasures for high and for low:</span> -<span class="i0">Rubies that burn like the sunset glow;</span> -<span class="i0">Diamond rays for the crownèd queen;</span> -<span class="i0">For the princess, pearls with their silver sheen.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I enter the castle with noiseless feet—</span> -<span class="i0">The air is silent and soft and sweet;</span> -<span class="i0">And I lavish my beautiful tokens there—</span> -<span class="i0">Fairings to make the fair more fair!</span> -<span class="i0">I enter the cottage of want and woe—</span> -<span class="i0">The candle is out, and the fire burns low;</span> -<span class="i0">But the sleepers smile in a happy dream</span> -<span class="i0">As I scatter my gifts by the moon’s pale beam.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s never a home so low, no doubt,</span> -<span class="i0">But I in my flight can find it out;</span> -<span class="i0">Nor a hut so hidden but I can see</span> -<span class="i0">The shadow cast by the lone roof-tree!</span> -<span class="i0">There’s never a home so proud and high</span> -<span class="i0">That I am constrained to pass it by,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor a heart so happy it may not be</span> -<span class="i0">Happier still when blessed by me!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is my name? Ah, who can tell,</span> -<span class="i0">Though in every land ’tis a magic spell!</span> -<span class="i0">Men call me that, and they call me this;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet the different names are the same, I wis!</span> -<span class="i0">Gift-bearer to all the world am I,</span> -<span class="i0">Joy-giver, Light-bringer, where’er I fly;</span> -<span class="i0">But the name I bear in the courts above,</span> -<span class="i0">My truest and holiest name, is—LOVE!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE ARMORER’S ERRAND<br /><br /><small>A BALLAD OF 1775</small></h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the far skies soared clear and bright</span> -<span class="i0">From mountain height to mountain height,</span> -<span class="i0">In the heart of a forest old and gray,</span> -<span class="i0">Castleton slept one Sabbath day—</span> -<span class="i0">Slept and dreamed, on the seventh of May,</span> -<span class="i0">Seventeen hundred and seventy-five.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But hark! a humming, like bees in a hive;</span> -<span class="i0">Hark to the shouts—“They come! they come!”</span> -<span class="i0">Hark to the sound of the fife and drum!</span> -<span class="i0">For up from the south two hundred men—</span> -<span class="i0">Two hundred and fifty—from mount and glen,</span> -<span class="i0">While the deep woods rang with their rallying cry</span> -<span class="i0">Of “Ticonderoga! Fort Ti! Fort Ti!”</span> -<span class="i0">Swept into the town with a martial tread,</span> -<span class="i0">Ethan Allen marching ahead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Next day the village was all astir</span> -<span class="i0">With unwonted tumult and hurry. There were</span> -<span class="i0">Gatherings here and gatherings there,</span> -<span class="i0">A feverish heat in the very air,</span> -<span class="i0">The ominous sound of tramping feet,</span> -<span class="i0">And eager groups in the dusty street.</span> -<span class="i0">To Eben’s forge strode Gershom Beach</span> -<span class="i0">(Idle it stood, and its master away);</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Blacksmith and armorer stout was he,</span> -<span class="i0">First in the fight and first in the breach,</span> -<span class="i0">And first in work where a man should be.</span> -<span class="i0">“I’ll borrow your tools, my friend,” he said,</span> -<span class="i0">“And temper these blades if I lose my head!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So he wrought away till the sun went down,</span> -<span class="i0">And silence fell on the turbulent town;</span> -<span class="i0">And the flame of the forge through the darkness glowed,</span> -<span class="i0">A square of light on the sandy road.</span> -<span class="i0">Then over the threshold a shadow fell,</span> -<span class="i0">And he heard a voice that he knew right well.</span> -<span class="i0">It was Ethan Allen’s. He cried: “I knew</span> -<span class="i0">Where the forge-fire blazed I must look for you!</span> -<span class="i0">But listen! more arduous work than this,</span> -<span class="i0">Lying in wait for someone is;</span> -<span class="i0">And tempering blades is only play</span> -<span class="i0">To the task I set for him this day—</span> -<span class="i0">Or this night, rather.” A grim smile played</span> -<span class="i0">O’er the armorer’s face as his hand he stayed.</span> -<span class="i0">“Say on. I never have shirked,” said he;</span> -<span class="i0">“What may this wonderful task-work be?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“To go by the light of the evening star</span> -<span class="i0">On an urgent errand, swift and far—</span> -<span class="i0">From town to town and from farm to farm</span> -<span class="i0">To carry the warning and sound the alarm!</span> -<span class="i0">Wake Rutland and Pittsford! Rouse Neshobè, too,</span> -<span class="i0">And all the fair valley the Otter runs through—</span> -<span class="i0">For we need more men! Make no delay,</span> -<span class="i0">But hasten, hasten, upon your way!”</span> -<span class="i0">He doffed his apron, he tightened his belt,</span> -<span class="i0">To fasten the straps of his leggings he knelt.</span> -<span class="i0">“Ere the clock strikes nine,” said Gershom Beach,</span> -<span class="i0">“Friend Allen, I will be out of reach;</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span> -<span class="i0">And I pledge you my word, ere dawn of day</span> -<span class="i0">Guns and men shall be under way.</span> -<span class="i0">But where shall I send these minute-men?”</span> -<span class="i0">“Do you know Hand’s Cove?” said Allen then,</span> -<span class="i0">“On the shore of Champlain? Let them meet me there</span> -<span class="i0">By to-morrow night, be it foul or fair!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Good-by, I’m off!” Then down the road</span> -<span class="i0">As if on seven-league boots he strode,</span> -<span class="i0">While Allen watched from the forge’s door</span> -<span class="i0">Till the stalwart form he could see no more.</span> -<span class="i0">Into the woods passed Gershom Beach;</span> -<span class="i0">By nine of the clock he was out of reach.</span> -<span class="i0">But still, as his will his steps outran,</span> -<span class="i0">He said to himself, with a laugh, “Old man,</span> -<span class="i0">Never a minute have you to lose,</span> -<span class="i0">Never a minute to pick or choose;</span> -<span class="i0">For sixty miles in twenty-four hours</span> -<span class="i0">Is surely enough to try your powers.</span> -<span class="i0">So square your shoulders and speed away</span> -<span class="i0">With never a halt by night or day.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas a moonless night; but over his head</span> -<span class="i0">The stars a tremulous lustre shed,</span> -<span class="i0">And the breath of the woods grew strangely sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">As he crushed the wild ferns under his feet,</span> -<span class="i0">And trampled the shy arbutus blooms,</span> -<span class="i0">With their hoarded wealth of rare perfumes.</span> -<span class="i0">He sniffed as he went. “It seems to me</span> -<span class="i0">There are May-flowers here, but I cannot see.</span> -<span class="i0">I’ve read of the ‘hush of the silent night’;</span> -<span class="i0">Now hark! there’s a wolf on yonder height;</span> -<span class="i0">There’s a snarling catamount prowling round;</span> -<span class="i0">Every inch of the ‘silence’ is full of sound;</span> -<span class="i0">The night-birds cry; the whip-poor-wills</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Call to each other from all the hills;</span> -<span class="i0">A scream comes down from the eagle’s nest;</span> -<span class="i0">The bark of a fox from the cliff’s tall crest;</span> -<span class="i0">The owls hoot; and the very trees</span> -<span class="i0">Have something to say to every breeze!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The paths were few and the ways were rude</span> -<span class="i0">In the depths of that virgin solitude.</span> -<span class="i0">The Indian’s trail and the hunter’s tracks,</span> -<span class="i0">The trees scarred deep by the settler’s axe,</span> -<span class="i0">Or a cow-path leading to the creek,—</span> -<span class="i0">These were the signs he had to seek;</span> -<span class="i0">Save where, it may be, he chanced to hit</span> -<span class="i0">The Crown Point road and could follow it—</span> -<span class="i0">The road by the British troops hewn out</span> -<span class="i0">Under General Amherst in fifty-nine,</span> -<span class="i0">When he drove the French from the old redoubt,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor waited to give the countersign!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The streams were many and swift and clear;</span> -<span class="i0">But there was no bridge, or far or near.</span> -<span class="i0">It was midnight when he paused to hear</span> -<span class="i0">At Rutland, the roar of the waterfall,</span> -<span class="i0">And found a canoe by the river’s edge,</span> -<span class="i0">In a tangled thicket of reeds and sedge.</span> -<span class="i0">With a shout and a cheer, on the rushing tide</span> -<span class="i0">He launched it and flew to the other side;</span> -<span class="i0">Then giving his message, on he sped,</span> -<span class="i0">By the light of the pale stars overhead,</span> -<span class="i0">Past the log church below Pine Hill,</span> -<span class="i0">And the graveyard opposite. All was still,</span> -<span class="i0">And the one lone sleeper lying there</span> -<span class="i0">Stirred not either for cry or prayer.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only pausing to give the alarm</span> -<span class="i0">At rude log cabin and lonely farm.</span> -<span class="i0">From hamlet to hamlet he hurries along,</span> -<span class="i0">Borne on by a purpose deep and strong.</span> -<span class="i0">Look! there’s a deer in the forest glade,</span> -<span class="i0">Stealing along like a silent shade!</span> -<span class="i0">Hark to the loon that cries and moans</span> -<span class="i0">With a living grief in its human tones!</span> -<span class="i0">At Pittsford the light begins to grow</span> -<span class="i0">In the wakening east; and drifting slow,</span> -<span class="i0">From valley and river and wild-wood, rise,</span> -<span class="i0">Like the smoke of a morning sacrifice,</span> -<span class="i0">Clouds of translucent, silver mist,</span> -<span class="i0">Flushing to rose and amethyst;</span> -<span class="i0">While thrush and robin and bluebird sing</span> -<span class="i0">Till the woods with jubilant music ring!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was day at last! He looked around,</span> -<span class="i0">With a firmer tread on the springing ground;</span> -<span class="i0">“Now the men will be all afield,” said he,</span> -<span class="i0">“And that will save many a step for me.</span> -<span class="i0">Each man will be ready to go; but still,</span> -<span class="i0">I must confess, if I’d had my will,</span> -<span class="i0">I’d have waited till after planting-time,</span> -<span class="i0">For now the season is in its prime.</span> -<span class="i0">The young green leaves of the oak-tree here</span> -<span class="i0">Are just the size of a squirrel’s ear;</span> -<span class="i0">And I’ve known no rule, since I was born,</span> -<span class="i0">Safer than that for planting corn!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He threaded the valleys, he climbed the hills,</span> -<span class="i0">He forded the rivers, he leaped the rills,</span> -<span class="i0">While still to his call, like minute-men</span> -<span class="i0">Booted and spurred, from mount and glen,</span> -<span class="i0">The settlers rallied. But on he went</span> -<span class="i0">Like an arrow shot from a bow, unspent,</span> -<span class="i0">Down the long vale of the Otter to where</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span> -<span class="i0">The might of the waterfall thundered in air;</span> -<span class="i0">Then across to the lake, six leagues and more,</span> -<span class="i0">Where Hand’s Cove lay in the bending shore.</span> -<span class="i0">The goal was reached. He dropped to the ground</span> -<span class="i0">In a deep ravine, without word or sound;</span> -<span class="i0">And Sleep, the restorer, bade him rest</span> -<span class="i0">Like a weary child, on the earth’s brown breast.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At midnight he woke with a quick heart-beat,</span> -<span class="i0">And sprang with a will to his throbbing feet;—</span> -<span class="i0">For armed men swarmed in the dim ravine,</span> -<span class="i0">And Ethan Allen, as proud of mien</span> -<span class="i0">As a king on his throne, smiled down on him,</span> -<span class="i0">While he stretched and straightened each stiffened limb.</span> -<span class="i0">“Nay, nay,” said the Colonel, “take your rest,</span> -<span class="i0">As a knight who has done his chief’s behest!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Not yet!” cried the armorer. “Where’s my gun?</span> -<span class="i0">A knight fights on till the field is won!”</span> -<span class="i0">And into Fort Ti, ere dawn of day,</span> -<span class="i0">He stormed with his comrades to share the fray!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>FORESHADOWINGS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wind of the winter night,</span> -<span class="i4">Under the starry skies</span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere my lady bright,</span> -<span class="i8">Slumbering lies.</span> -<span class="i0">Wrapped in calm maiden dreams,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the pale moonlight streams,</span> -<span class="i8">Softly she sleeps.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do not know her face,</span> -<span class="i4">Pure as the lonely star</span> -<span class="i0">That in yon darkling space</span> -<span class="i8">Shineth afar;</span> -<span class="i0">Never with soft command</span> -<span class="i0">Touched I her willing hand,</span> -<span class="i8">Kissed I her lips.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have not heard her voice,</span> -<span class="i4">I do not know her name;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet doth my heart rejoice,</span> -<span class="i8">Owning her claim;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet am I true to her;</span> -<span class="i0">All that is due to her</span> -<span class="i8">Sacred I keep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Never a thought of me</span> -<span class="i4">Troubles her soft repose;</span> -<span class="i0">Courant of mine may be</span> -<span class="i8">Lily nor rose.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span> -<span class="i0">They may not bear to her</span> -<span class="i0">This heart’s fond prayer to her,</span> -<span class="i8">Yet—she is mine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wind of the winter night,</span> -<span class="i4">Over the fields of snow,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the hill so white,</span> -<span class="i8">Tenderly blow!</span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere red roses bloom;</span> -<span class="i0">Into her warm, hushed room,</span> -<span class="i8">Bear thou their breath.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whisper—Nay, nay, thou sprite,</span> -<span class="i4">Breathe thou no tender word;</span> -<span class="i0">Wind of the winter night,</span> -<span class="i8">Die thou unheard.</span> -<span class="i0">True love shall yet prevail,</span> -<span class="i0">Telling its own sweet tale:</span> -<span class="i8">Till then I wait.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WON</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bird, by her garden gate</span> -<span class="i2">Singing thy happy song,</span> -<span class="i0">Round thee the listening leaves</span> -<span class="i2">Joyously throng.</span> -<span class="i0">Tell them that yesternight</span> -<span class="i0">Under the stars so bright,</span> -<span class="i2">I wooed and won her!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Red rose, rejoice with me!</span> -<span class="i2">Swing all thy censers low,</span> -<span class="i0">Bid each fair bud of thine</span> -<span class="i2">Hasten to blow.</span> -<span class="i0">Lift every glowing cup</span> -<span class="i0">Brimming with sweetness up,</span> -<span class="i2">For—I have won her!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wind, bear the tidings far,</span> -<span class="i2">Far over hill and dale;</span> -<span class="i0">Let every breeze that blows</span> -<span class="i2">Swell the glad tale.</span> -<span class="i0">River, go tell the sea,</span> -<span class="i0">Boundless and glad and free,</span> -<span class="i2">That I have won her!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stars, ye who saw the blush</span> -<span class="i2">Steal o’er her lovely face,</span> -<span class="i0">When first her tender lips</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span> -<span class="i2">Granted me grace,</span> -<span class="i0">Who can with her compare,</span> -<span class="i0">Queen of the maidens rare?</span> -<span class="i2">Yet—I have won her!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sun, up yon azure height</span> -<span class="i2">Treading thy lofty way,</span> -<span class="i0">Ruler of sea and land,</span> -<span class="i2">King of the Day—</span> -<span class="i0">Where’er thy banners fly,</span> -<span class="i0">Who is so blest as I?</span> -<span class="i2">I—who have won her!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, heart and soul of mine,</span> -<span class="i2">Make ye the temple clean,</span> -<span class="i0">Make all the cloisters pure</span> -<span class="i2">Seen and unseen!</span> -<span class="i0">Bring fragrant balm and myrrh,</span> -<span class="i0">Make the shrine meet for her,</span> -<span class="i2">Now ye have won her!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>BAPTISM OF FIRE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Happy birds caroling love-songs, winds in the tree-tops at play,</span> -<span class="i0">Earth, like an Eden, rejoicing in the beautiful gladness of May!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the mountains a splendor of crimson and amethyst swept:</span> -<span class="i0">Gray mists stole up from the valley, the dense shadows after them crept.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down the green aisles of the orchard, pink-white with the promise of bloom,</span> -<span class="i0">Stood the apple-trees, wooing already the brown bees with wealth of perfume.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then sounded the blast of a trumpet, like the cry of a soul in pain,</span> -<span class="i0">Crashing of thunder-bolts warring with the hosts of the scourging rain.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till when the raging battalions swept on with resistless sway,</span> -<span class="i0">Prone in the path of the tempest the pride of the orchard lay!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“O beautiful buds close folded, that never will bloom!” I cried,</span> -<span class="i0">“Alas for the unfulfilment, alas for the bliss denied!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But filling my arms with the branches, I carried them in, where the fire</span> -<span class="i0">Blazed on the glowing hearth-stone like a sacrificial pyre.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And into the flames I tossed them, when before my startled eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">As in a miraculous vision, shone a marvel, a surprise.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the heart of the fiery splendor the pale buds, one by one,</span> -<span class="i0">Opened to heat of the burning as to kiss of the summer sun!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AT THE FEAST<br /><br />“<small>And the Lord of the Castle is Time</small>.”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the hour has come and the servants wait</span> -<span class="i0">The tramp of steeds at the castle gate,</span> -<span class="i0">When the lamps aglow in the banquet-hall</span> -<span class="i0">Like a thousand stars burn over all,</span> -<span class="i0">When the board is spread and the feast is set,</span> -<span class="i0">And the dew on the roses lingers yet,</span> -<span class="i6">Whom shall the Master summon</span> -<span class="i6">To sit at his right hand?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let the music soar to the vaulted roof,</span> -<span class="i0">Let the flute-notes swell, alow, aloof,</span> -<span class="i0">While chief and retainer alike await</span> -<span class="i0">The Lord of the Castle who cometh late;</span> -<span class="i0">The guests are bidden, the red wine flows,</span> -<span class="i0">But not the wisest among them knows</span> -<span class="i6">Whom the Master shall summon</span> -<span class="i6">To sit at his right hand!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the Lord of the Castle, who cometh late,</span> -<span class="i0">When he comes, at length, in pomp and state,</span> -<span class="i0">And with glitter of mail, and clang of sword,</span> -<span class="i0">Strides to his place at the head of the board,</span> -<span class="i0">Ofttimes reverses the order set,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor beckons to crown or coronet!</span> -<span class="i6">Whom he will the Master summons</span> -<span class="i6">To sit at his right hand!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>OVER AND OVER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Just the same thing over and over!”</span> -<span class="i2">But that is the way of the world, my dear;</span> -<span class="i0">Over and over, over and over,</span> -<span class="i2">Old things repeated from year to year!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hear what the sun saith: “Patient still,</span> -<span class="i2">The vaulted heavens I climb and climb,</span> -<span class="i0">Over and over with tireless will,</span> -<span class="i2">Day after day till the end of time!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Never a pause and never a rest;</span> -<span class="i2">Yet every morning the earth is new,</span> -<span class="i0">And ever the clouds in the golden west</span> -<span class="i2">Have a fresh glory shining through.”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hear what the grass saith: “Up the hills</span> -<span class="i2">And through the orchard I creep and creep,</span> -<span class="i0">Over the meadows, and where the rills</span> -<span class="i2">Laugh in the shadows cool and deep.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Every spring it is just the same!</span> -<span class="i2">And because it is, I am sure to see</span> -<span class="i0">The oriole’s flash of vivid flame</span> -<span class="i2">In the pink-white bloom of the apple-tree.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hear what dear Love saith: “Ah, I hear</span> -<span class="i1">The same old story over and over;</span> -<span class="i0">Mother and maiden year by year</span> -<span class="i2">Whisper it still to child and lover!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But sweeter it grows from age to age,</span> -<span class="i2">The song begotten so long ago,</span> -<span class="i0">When first man came to his heritage,</span> -<span class="i2">And walked with God in the even-glow.”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A LISTENING BIRD</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A little bird sat on an apple-tree,</span> -<span class="i0">And he was as hoarse as hoarse could be;</span> -<span class="i0">He preened and he prinked, and he ruffled his throat,</span> -<span class="i0">But from it there floated no silvery note.</span> -<span class="i0">“Not a song can I sing,” sighed he, sighed he—</span> -<span class="i6">“Not a song can I sing,” sighed he.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In tremulous showers the apple-tree shed</span> -<span class="i0">Its pink and white blossoms on his head;</span> -<span class="i0">The gay sun shone, and, like jubilant words,</span> -<span class="i0">He heard the gay song of a thousand birds.</span> -<span class="i0">“All the others can sing,” he dolefully said—</span> -<span class="i6">“All the others can sing,” he said.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So he sat and he drooped. But as far and wide</span> -<span class="i0">The music was borne on the air’s warm tide,</span> -<span class="i0">A sudden thought came to the sad little bird,</span> -<span class="i0">And he lifted his head as within him it stirred.</span> -<span class="i0">“If I cannot sing, I can listen,” he cried;</span> -<span class="i6">“Ho! ho! I can listen!” he cried.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE FIRST FIRE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Virgin hearth, as chaste and cold</span> -<span class="i0">As one who waits for burial mould,</span> -<span class="i0">Whom shall we summon here to keep</span> -<span class="i0">Watch while thou wakest from thy sleep?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not from the far sky spaces, blue</span> -<span class="i0">As those that Zeus and Hera knew,</span> -<span class="i0">May Hestia wing her airy flight,</span> -<span class="i0">Bringer of holy warmth and light.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pan may not come. By stream and shore</span> -<span class="i0">Fair Naiads dry their locks no more;</span> -<span class="i0">No Oread dwells in mount and glen;</span> -<span class="i0">No Dryad flees from gods or men.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet still do forest voices clear</span> -<span class="i0">Greet him whose soul hath ears to hear;</span> -<span class="i0">The murmur of the rustling pine</span> -<span class="i0">Is sweet as Hermes’s harp divine.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The winds that rend the mighty oak</span> -<span class="i0">Clash loud as Ares’s battle stroke;</span> -<span class="i0">The maples toss each leafy crown</span> -<span class="i0">Though Dian’s votive wreaths are brown.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here, as to sacrificial pyre</span> -<span class="i0">Kindled with pure celestial fire,</span> -<span class="i0">Shall hemlock, pine, and maple bring</span> -<span class="i0">The deep wood’s fragrant offering,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As incense to this household shrine.</span> -<span class="i0">O hearth, no richer spoil were thine</span> -<span class="i0">If all Dodona’s oaks had shed</span> -<span class="i0">Their life-blood and for thee lay dead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou waiting one, doth no strange thrill</span> -<span class="i0">Thy quickening veins with wonder fill?</span> -<span class="i0">Have the far-seeing, prescient years</span> -<span class="i0">No presage for thy listening ears?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life hath its phases manifold,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet still the new repeats the old;</span> -<span class="i0">There is no truer truth than this:</span> -<span class="i0">What was, is still the thing that is.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore we know that thou wilt hear</span> -<span class="i0">Childhood’s light laughter ringing clear;</span> -<span class="i0">The flow of song, the breath of prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">Whisper of love, and sigh of care.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou wilt see youth go forth to gauge</span> -<span class="i0">His being’s lofty heritage,</span> -<span class="i0">And manhood in the autumn eves</span> -<span class="i0">Come homeward laden with his sheaves.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O life and death, O joy and woe,</span> -<span class="i0">In mingling streams your tides shall flow,</span> -<span class="i0">While sun and storm alike fulfil</span> -<span class="i0">The mandates of the Eternal Will!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now bring the torch and light the fire,</span> -<span class="i0">Let the swift flames leap high and higher,</span> -<span class="i0">Let the red radiance stream afar,</span> -<span class="i0">Dearer than glow of moon or star!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Burn, burn, O fire, burn still and clear,</span> -<span class="i0">And fill the house with warmth and cheer!</span> -<span class="i0">Soar, soar, O fire, so brave, so bright,</span> -<span class="i0">And souls shall soar to share thy flight!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MIDNIGHT CHIMES</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel!</i></span> -<span class="i2">Down yon lonely height</span> -<span class="i0">Hear the joyous summons pealing</span> -<span class="i2">Through the starry night.</span> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel! Noel! Noel!</i></span> -<span class="i2">Ring the Christmas bells;</span> -<span class="i0">From the church-tower on the hill</span> -<span class="i2">Clear the music swells.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far and near the listening mountains</span> -<span class="i2">Bend to catch the strain,</span> -<span class="i0">Dome, and peak, and shadowy fastness</span> -<span class="i2">Join the glad refrain,—</span> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel!</i> All the pine-trees</span> -<span class="i2">Feel a subtile thrill,</span> -<span class="i0">And the hemlock groves, responsive,</span> -<span class="i2">Whisper and are still.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel!</i> Through the valley</span> -<span class="i2">Where the river goes</span> -<span class="i0">In and out between the meadows,</span> -<span class="i2">Soft the music flows,</span> -<span class="i0">And the river, dumbly sleeping,</span> -<span class="i2">Feels its cold heart beat</span> -<span class="i0">Answering to the pulsing rhythm</span> -<span class="i2">Of the anthem sweet.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel!</i> Hark! a rustling</span> -<span class="i2">On the frosty air,</span> -<span class="i0">Where the aspens, all a-quiver,</span> -<span class="i2">Bend their branches bare;</span> -<span class="i0">Airy birches, stately maples,</span> -<span class="i2">Black against the sky,</span> -<span class="i0">Wave their leafless boughs like banners</span> -<span class="i2">When a king goes by.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel!</i> Sweet-breathed oxen,</span> -<span class="i2">In the farm-yard close,</span> -<span class="i0">Lift their horned heads to listen,</span> -<span class="i2">Startled from repose;</span> -<span class="i0">Then they sleep as slept the white flocks</span> -<span class="i2">On Judea’s hills,</span> -<span class="i0">While again the olden glory</span> -<span class="i2">Earth with rapture fills.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel!</i> Little children</span> -<span class="i2">In their soft nests smile,</span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming of fair choiring angels</span> -<span class="i2">Floating near the while;</span> -<span class="i0">Voiceless snow-birds, half awakened,</span> -<span class="i2">Stir their drowsy wings</span> -<span class="i0">With, mayhap, a vague, unconscious</span> -<span class="i2">Sense of heavenly things.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Noel! Noel!</i> In the church-yard,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the low graves lie,</span> -<span class="i0">Light winds bear the strains melodious,</span> -<span class="i2">Soft as spirit’s sigh;</span> -<span class="i0">Do ye hear it, O ye sleepers,</span> -<span class="i2">As it dies and swells?</span> -<span class="i0">Hear your ears the mystic music</span> -<span class="i2">Of earth’s Christmas bells?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>MY LADY SLEEP</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In cool gray cloisters walks my Lady Sleep,</span> -<span class="i2">Telling her smooth beads slowly, one by one;</span> -<span class="i0">Along the wall the stealthy shadows creep;</span> -<span class="i2">Night holds the world in thrall, and day is done.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes, while winds sigh soft above her head,</span> -<span class="i2">Down the long garden path my Lady strays,</span> -<span class="i0">And kneeling by the pansies’ purple bed,</span> -<span class="i2">Counts the small faces in the moonlit haze.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes she lies upon the silver sands,</span> -<span class="i2">Following the sea-birds, as they wheel and dip;</span> -<span class="i0">Or idly clasps, in still persistent hands,</span> -<span class="i2">The shining grains that through her fingers slip.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or paces long, with flowing locks all wet,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the low thunder booms forevermore,</span> -<span class="i0">And the great waves no man hath numbered yet,</span> -<span class="i2">Roll, one by one, to break upon the shore.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes she counts the brightening twilight stars,</span> -<span class="i2">The daisies smiling in the meadow grass,</span> -<span class="i0">The slow kine trailing through the pasture bars,</span> -<span class="i2">The white sheep loitering in the mountain pass.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But evermore her hands are cool and calm—</span> -<span class="i2">Her quiet voice is ever hushed and low;</span> -<span class="i0">And evermore her tranquil lips breathe balm,</span> -<span class="i2">And silent as a dream her garments flow.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She comes, she goes—whence, whither—who can tell?</span> -<span class="i2">Angels of God, do ye her secret keep?</span> -<span class="i0">Know ye the talisman, the sign, the spell,</span> -<span class="i2">The mystic password of my Lady Sleep?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE KING’S TOUCH</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The King’s touch—there is magic in it!</span> -<span class="i2">When the early dawn in the east is red,</span> -<span class="i0">And I hear the song of the lark and linnet,</span> -<span class="i2">I will rise like a wraith from my sleepless bed.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then wrapped in a cloak of hodden gray</span> -<span class="i2">I will steal like a shadow over the hills,</span> -<span class="i0">And down where the pendulous willows sway,</span> -<span class="i2">And the rich, ripe grape its scent distils—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till I reach the edge of the forest wide;</span> -<span class="i2">And there will I bide, where the still shades are,</span> -<span class="i0">Till the King and his huntsmen forth do ride,</span> -<span class="i2">And the sweet wild horn rings out afar.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will wait and listen until I see</span> -<span class="i2">The nodding plumes of the merry men</span> -<span class="i0">And the glancing pennants floating free,</span> -<span class="i2">A gleam of light in the lonely glen.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then low in the dust at his royal feet</span> -<span class="i2">I will kneel for the touch of his healing hand;</span> -<span class="i0">Perchance he will give ere I entreat,</span> -<span class="i2">Before I cry he may understand!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The King’s proud Leech will be there I trow—</span> -<span class="i2">A wise old man with a reverent air—</span> -<span class="i0">And the laughing courtiers, row on row;</span> -<span class="i2">Yet not unto them will I make my prayer.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis the King, the King, who will know it all.</span> -<span class="i2">His eye will discover the wound concealed;</span> -<span class="i0">He will bend to hear me before I call.</span> -<span class="i2">Whom the King touches shall be healed!”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was the maiden cured? Ah, none can tell!</span> -<span class="i2">She was dust and ashes long ago,</span> -<span class="i0">With the proud young king and his leech as well,</span> -<span class="i2">And the smiling courtiers, row on row.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But whether the dawn in the east be red,</span> -<span class="i2">Or whether the stars bloom out afield,</span> -<span class="i0">This truth remaineth, tho’ myths lie dead:</span> -<span class="i2">“Whom the King touches shall be healed!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>“BY DIVERS PATHS”</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unknown to me thy name or state,</span> -<span class="i2">Save that a mantle saintly</span> -<span class="i0">Of rare and sweet unworldliness</span> -<span class="i2">Enfolded thee most quaintly.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We came and went by divers paths;</span> -<span class="i2">We planned nor time, nor meeting;</span> -<span class="i0">We spake not, save by nod, or smile,</span> -<span class="i2">Or glance of casual greeting.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, led by some strange chance or fate</span> -<span class="i2">To-day by ruined altars,</span> -<span class="i0">Where, strained through clustering ivy leaves,</span> -<span class="i2">The pitying sunshine falters;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-morrow where your blue lakes shine,</span> -<span class="i2">And bloom your English daisies;</span> -<span class="i0">Or on Helvellyn’s lofty crest</span> -<span class="i2">The sunset splendor blazes;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or where deep organ-thunders roll</span> -<span class="i2">Through grand cathedral arches,</span> -<span class="i0">And stately Durham’s triple towers</span> -<span class="i2">Look toward the Scottish marches;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus, here and there, we met, nor knew</span> -<span class="i2">Each other’s name nor mission,</span> -<span class="i0">The while a subtile kinship grew</span> -<span class="i2">To silent recognition.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At length where stretched a princely street</span> -<span class="i2">In long, receding splendor,</span> -<span class="i0">Down which the golden sunshine threw</span> -<span class="i2">A radiance warm and tender;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While far above us, frowning, hung</span> -<span class="i2">A castle old and hoary,</span> -<span class="i0">Stern on its battlemented heights</span> -<span class="i2">Renowned in song and story;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And near us, throned in marble state,</span> -<span class="i2">O’er time and death victorious,</span> -<span class="i0"><i>He</i> sat, the magic of whose pen</span> -<span class="i2">Made king and castle glorious—</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, face to face, once more we met,</span> -<span class="i2">Like leaves in autumn weather,</span> -<span class="i0">That blown afar by varying winds,</span> -<span class="i2">Yet drift again together.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A look, a smile, and “Is it thou?”</span> -<span class="i2">A little low, sweet laughter,</span> -<span class="i0">Just one close clasp of meeting hands,</span> -<span class="i2">And then, a moment after,</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between us swept the surging crowd</span> -<span class="i2">And we were borne asunder.</span> -<span class="i0">O, friend unknown, in what far land</span> -<span class="i2">Will we next meet, I wonder?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE BLIND BIRD’S NEST</h3> - -<p class="center">“The nest of the blind bird is built by -God.”—<span class="smcap">Turkish Proverb.</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou who dost build the blind bird’s nest,</span> -<span class="i8">Am I not blind?</span> -<span class="i0">Each bird that flyeth east or west</span> -<span class="i8">The track can find.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each bird that flies from north to south</span> -<span class="i8">Knows the far way;</span> -<span class="i0">From mountain’s crest to river’s mouth</span> -<span class="i8">It does not stray.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not one in all the lengthening land,</span> -<span class="i8">In all the sky,</span> -<span class="i0">Or by the ocean’s silver strand,</span> -<span class="i8">Is blind as I!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And dost Thou build the blind bird’s nest?</span> -<span class="i8">Build Thou for me</span> -<span class="i0">Some shelter where my soul may rest</span> -<span class="i8">Secure in Thee.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Close clinging to the bending bough,</span> -<span class="i8">Bind it so fast</span> -<span class="i0">It shall not loose if high or low</span> -<span class="i8">Blows the loud blast.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If fierce storms break, and the wild rain</span> -<span class="i8">Comes pelting in,</span> -<span class="i0">Cover the shrinking nest, restrain</span> -<span class="i8">The furious din.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At sultry noontide, when the air</span> -<span class="i8">Trembles with heat,</span> -<span class="i0">Draw close the leafy covert where</span> -<span class="i8">Cool shadows meet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when night falleth, dark and chill,</span> -<span class="i8">Let one fair star,</span> -<span class="i0">Love’s star all luminous and still,</span> -<span class="i8">Shine from afar.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou who dost build the blind bird’s nest</span> -<span class="i8">Build Thou for me;</span> -<span class="i0">So shall my being find its rest</span> -<span class="i8">Forevermore in Thee.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>TWO PATHS</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Path across a meadow fair and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">Where clover-blooms the lithesome grasses greet,</span> -<span class="i0">A path worn smooth by his impetuous feet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A straight, swift path—and at its end, a star</span> -<span class="i0">Gleaming behind the lilac’s fragrant bar,</span> -<span class="i0">And her soft eyes, more luminous by far!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<hr class="tb" /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A path across the meadow fair and sweet,</span> -<span class="i0">Still sweet and fair where blooms and grasses meet—</span> -<span class="i0">A path worn smooth by his reluctant feet.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A long, straight path—and, at its end, a gate</span> -<span class="i0">Behind whose bars she doth in silence wait</span> -<span class="i0">To keep the tryst, if he comes soon or late!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>ST. JOHN’S EVE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">The veil is thin between</span> -<span class="i6">The seen and the unseen—</span> -<span class="i0">Thinner to-night than the transparent air;</span> -<span class="i6">All heaven and earth are still,</span> -<span class="i6">Save when from some far hill</span> -<span class="i0">Floateth the nightbird’s unavailing prayer;</span> -<span class="i6">Up from the mountain bars</span> -<span class="i6">Climb the slow, patient stars,</span> -<span class="i0">Only to faint in moonlight white and rare!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Ere earth had grown too wise</span> -<span class="i6">To commerce with the skies,</span> -<span class="i0">On this midsummer night the men of old</span> -<span class="i6">Believed the dead drew near,</span> -<span class="i6">Believed that they could hear</span> -<span class="i0">Voices long silent speaking from the mould,</span> -<span class="i6">Believed whoever slept</span> -<span class="i6">Unearthly vigil kept</span> -<span class="i0">Where his own death-knell should at last be tolled.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">In solemn midnight marches</span> -<span class="i6">Beneath dark forest arches</span> -<span class="i0">They fancied that their hungry souls found God;</span> -<span class="i6">His angels clad in light</span> -<span class="i6">Stole softly through the night,</span> -<span class="i0">Leaving no impress on the yielding sod,</span> -<span class="i6">And bore to mortal ears</span> -<span class="i6">Tidings from other spheres,</span> -<span class="i0">The undiscovered way no man hath trod.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Ah! what if it were true?</span> -<span class="i6">Then would I call ye who</span> -<span class="i0">Have one by one beyond my vision flown;</span> -<span class="i6">I would set wide the door</span> -<span class="i6">Ye enter now no more</span> -<span class="i0">Crying, “Come in from out the void unknown!</span> -<span class="i6">Come as ye came of old</span> -<span class="i6">Laden with love untold”—</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! was that nothing but the night wind’s moan?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A LITTLE SONG</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little song I fain would sing,</span> -<span class="i2">Why dost thou elude me so?</span> -<span class="i0">Like a bird upon the wing,</span> -<span class="i2">Sailing high, sailing low,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet forever out of reach,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou dost vex me beyond measure,</span> -<span class="i0">Unallured by prayer or speech,</span> -<span class="i2">Waiting thine own time and pleasure!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well I know thee, tricksy sprite—</span> -<span class="i2">I could call thee by thy name;</span> -<span class="i0">I have wooed thee day and night,</span> -<span class="i2">Yet thou wilt not own my claim.</span> -<span class="i0">Hark! thou’rt hovering even now</span> -<span class="i2">In the soft still air above me—</span> -<span class="i0">Fantasy or dream art thou,</span> -<span class="i2">That my heart’s cry cannot move thee?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Little song I never sang,</span> -<span class="i2">Thou art sweeter than the strain</span> -<span class="i0">That through starry mazes rang,</span> -<span class="i2">First-born child of joy and pain.</span> -<span class="i0">I shall sing thee not; but surely</span> -<span class="i2">From some all-compelling voice</span> -<span class="i0">Swelling high, serenely, purely,</span> -<span class="i2">I shall hear thee and rejoice!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>THE PRINCES’ CHAMBER</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stood upon Tower Hill,</span> -<span class="i2">Bright were the skies and gay,</span> -<span class="i0">Yet a cloud and a sudden chill</span> -<span class="i2">Passed over the summer day—</span> -<span class="i0">A thrill, and a nameless dread,</span> -<span class="i2">As of one who waits alone</span> -<span class="i0">Where gather the silent dead</span> -<span class="i2">Under the charnel stone.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For before my shrinking eyes</span> -<span class="i2">They glided, one by one,</span> -<span class="i0">The great, the good, the wise,</span> -<span class="i2">Who here to death were done;</span> -<span class="i0">Sinners and saints they came</span> -<span class="i2">With blood-stained garments on,</span> -<span class="i0">Reckless of praise or blame,</span> -<span class="i2">Or battles lost or won.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then over the moat I passed</span> -<span class="i2">And paused at the Traitors’ Gate;</span> -<span class="i0">Did I hear a trumpet’s blast,</span> -<span class="i2">Forerunner of deadly fate?</span> -<span class="i0">Lo! up the stairs from the river,</span> -<span class="i2">Where the sombre shadows crept,</span> -<span class="i0">With none to help or deliver,</span> -<span class="i2">Kings, queens, and princes swept!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, some of those royal dames</span> -<span class="i2">Drooped, with dishevelled hair,</span> -<span class="i0">And mien of one who claims</span> -<span class="i2">Close kindred with despair!</span> -<span class="i0">And some were proud and cold,</span> -<span class="i2">With eyes that blazed like stars,</span> -<span class="i0">As under that archway old</span> -<span class="i2">They passed to their prison-bars.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To prison-bars or death!</span> -<span class="i2">Fair, hapless Anne Boleyn;</span> -<span class="i0">That haughty maid, Elizabeth;</span> -<span class="i2">Northumberland’s pale queen;</span> -<span class="i0">Margaret Plantagenet,</span> -<span class="i2">Her gray locks floating wild—</span> -<span class="i0">How the line lengthens yet,</span> -<span class="i2">Knight, prelate, statesman, child!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fiercely the black portcullis</span> -<span class="i2">Frowned as I onward went;</span> -<span class="i0">The Bloody Tower is this—</span> -<span class="i2">Strong tower of dread portent!</span> -<span class="i0">“Show me the Princes’ Chamber,”</span> -<span class="i2">To the Yeoman Guard I said;</span> -<span class="i0">O, the stairs were steep to clamber,</span> -<span class="i2">And the rough vault dark o’erhead!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No sigh in the sunny room,</span> -<span class="i2">No moan from the groined roof,</span> -<span class="i0">No wail of expectant doom</span> -<span class="i2">Echoed alow, aloof!</span> -<span class="i0">But instead a mother sang</span> -<span class="i2">To a child upon her knee,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose peals of laughter rang</span> -<span class="i2">Like sweet bells mad with glee.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sunshine for murky air,</span> -<span class="i2">Smiles for the sob of pain,</span> -<span class="i0">Joy for dark despair,</span> -<span class="i2">Hope where sweet hope was slain!</span> -<span class="i0">“Art thou happy here,” I cried,</span> -<span class="i2">“Where once was lonely woe,</span> -<span class="i0">And the royal children died,—</span> -<span class="i2">Murdered so long ago?”</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She smiled. “O, lady, yes!</span> -<span class="i2">Earth hath forgotten them;</span> -<span class="i0">See how my roses press,</span> -<span class="i2">Blooming on each fair stem!</span> -<span class="i0">The princes, they sleep sound,</span> -<span class="i2">But love nor joy are dead;</span> -<span class="i0">I fear no haunted ground,</span> -<span class="i2">I have my child,” she said.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>WONDERLAND</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wonderland is here and there;</span> -<span class="i0">Wonderland is everywhere;</span> -<span class="i0">Fly not then to east or west</span> -<span class="i0">On some far, uncertain quest.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Seek not India nor Japan,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor the city Ispahan,</span> -<span class="i0">Where to-day the shadows brood</span> -<span class="i0">Over lonely Zendarood.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Somewhere smileth far Cathay</span> -<span class="i0">Through the long resplendent day;</span> -<span class="i0">Somewhere, moored in purple seas,</span> -<span class="i0">Sleep the fair Hesperides.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Somewhere, in vague realms remote</span> -<span class="i0">Over which strange banners float,</span> -<span class="i0">Lies, all bathed in silver gleams,</span> -<span class="i0">The dear Wonderland of dreams.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet no need to sail in ships</span> -<span class="i0">Where the blue sea dips and dips,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor on wings of cloud to fly</span> -<span class="i0">Where the haunts of faery lie.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For by miracle of morn</span> -<span class="i0">Each successive day is born;</span> -<span class="i0">And wherever shines the sun,</span> -<span class="i0">There enchanted rivers run!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would you go to Wonderland?</span> -<span class="i0">Lo! it lieth close at hand;</span> -<span class="i0">Wonderland is wheresoe’er</span> -<span class="i0">Eyes can see and ears can hear!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>IN A GALLERY<br /><br />(<small>ANTWERP, 1891</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Virgin floating on the silver moon;</span> -<span class="i0">Madonna Mary with her holy child;</span> -<span class="i0">Pale Christs on shuddering crosses lifted high;</span> -<span class="i0">Sweet angel faces, bending from the blue;</span> -<span class="i0">Saints rapt from earth in ecstasy divine,</span> -<span class="i0">And martyrs all unmindful of their pain;</span> -<span class="i0">Bold, mail-clad knights; fair ladyes whom they loved;</span> -<span class="i0">Brown fisher-boys and maidens; harvest-fields,</span> -<span class="i0">Where patient women toiled; with here and there</span> -<span class="i0">The glint of summer skies and summer seas,</span> -<span class="i0">And the red glow of humble, household fires!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Breathless I stood and silent, even as one</span> -<span class="i0">Who, seeing all, sees nothing. Then a face</span> -<span class="i0">Down the long gallery drew me as a star;</span> -<span class="i0">A winsome, beckoning face, with bearded lips</span> -<span class="i0">Just touched with dawning laughter, and clear eyes</span> -<span class="i0">That kept their own dear secret, smiling still</span> -<span class="i0">With a soft challenge. Dark robes lost in shade,</span> -<span class="i0">Laces at throat and wrist, an ancient chair,</span> -<span class="i0">And a long, slender hand whose fingers held</span> -<span class="i0">Loosely a parchment scroll—and that was all.</span> -<span class="i0">Yet from those high, imperial presences,</span> -<span class="i0">Those lofty ones uplifted from dear earth</span> -<span class="i0">With all its loves and longings, back I turned</span> -<span class="i0">Again and yet again, lured by the smile</span> -<span class="i0">That called me like a voice, “Come hither, friend!”</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Simon de Vos,” thus saith the catalogue,</span> -<span class="i0">And “Painted by himself.”</span> -<span class="i26">Three hundred years</span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast been dust and ashes. I who write</span> -<span class="i0">And they who read, we know another world</span> -<span class="i0">From that thine eyes looked out on. Wouldst thou smile,</span> -<span class="i0">Even as here thou smilest, if to-day</span> -<span class="i0">Thou wert still of us? O, thou joyous one,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose light, half-mocking laughter hath outlived</span> -<span class="i0">So much earth held more precious, let thy lips</span> -<span class="i0">Open and answer me! Whence was it born,</span> -<span class="i0">The radiance of thy tender, sparkling face?</span> -<span class="i0">What manner of man wert thou? For the books</span> -<span class="i0">Of the long generations do not tell!</span> -<span class="i0">Art thou a name, a smile, and nothing more?</span> -<span class="i0">What dreams and visions hadst thou? Other men</span> -<span class="i0">Would pose as heroes; would go grandly down</span> -<span class="i0">To coming ages in the martyr’s <i>rôle</i>;</span> -<span class="i0">Or, if perchance they’re poets, set their woes</span> -<span class="i0">To wailing music, that the world may count</span> -<span class="i0">Their heart-throbs in the chanting of a song.</span> -<span class="i2">Immortal thou, by virtue of one smile!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>IN MARBLE PRAYER<br /><br />(<small>CANTERBURY, 1891</small>)</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">So still, so still they lie</span> -<span class="i10">As centuries pass by,</span> -<span class="i0">Their pale hands folded in imploring prayer;</span> -<span class="i10">They never lift their eyes</span> -<span class="i10">In sudden, sweet surprise;</span> -<span class="i0">The wandering winds stir not their heavy hair</span> -<span class="i10">Forth from their close-sealed lips</span> -<span class="i10">Nor moan, nor laughter, slips,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor lightest sigh to wake the entrancèd air!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Yet evermore they pray!</span> -<span class="i10">We creatures of a day</span> -<span class="i0">Live, love, and vanish from the gaze of men;</span> -<span class="i10">Nations arise and fall;</span> -<span class="i10">Oblivion’s heavy pall</span> -<span class="i0">Hides kings and princes from all human ken,</span> -<span class="i10">While these in marble state,</span> -<span class="i10">From age to age await</span> -<span class="i0">The rolling thunder of the last amen!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Not in dim crypts alone,</span> -<span class="i10">Or aisles of fretted stone,</span> -<span class="i0">Where high cathedral altars gleam afar;</span> -<span class="i10">And the red light streams down</span> -<span class="i10">On mitre and on crown,</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Till each proud jewel blazes like a star;</span> -<span class="i10">But where the tall grass waves</span> -<span class="i10">O’er long-forgotten graves,</span> -<span class="i0">Their silent worship no rude sounds can mar!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i10">Dost Thou not hear and heed?</span> -<span class="i10">O, in Earth’s utmost need</span> -<span class="i0">Wilt Thou not hearken, Thou who didst create?</span> -<span class="i10">Not for themselves they pray</span> -<span class="i10">Whose woes have passed for aye;</span> -<span class="i0">For us, for us, before Thy throne they wait!</span> -<span class="i10">Thou Sovereign Lord of All,</span> -<span class="i10">On whom they mutely call,</span> -<span class="i0">Hear Thou and answer from thine high estate!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>NOCTURNE</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O bird beneath the midnight sky!</span> -<span class="i0">As on my lonely couch I lie,</span> -<span class="i0">I hear thee singing in the dark—</span> -<span class="i8">Why sing not I?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No star-gleams meet thy wakeful eye;</span> -<span class="i0">No fond mate answers to thy cry;</span> -<span class="i0">No other voice, through all the dark,</span> -<span class="i8">Makes sweet reply.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet never skylark soaring high</span> -<span class="i0">Where sunlit clouds rejoicing lie,</span> -<span class="i0">Sang as thou singest in the dark,</span> -<span class="i8">Not mute as I!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O lone, sweet spirit! tell me why</span> -<span class="i0">So far thy ringing love-notes fly,</span> -<span class="i0">While other birds, hushed by the dark,</span> -<span class="i8">Are mute as I?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No prophecy of morn is nigh;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet as the sombre hours glide by,</span> -<span class="i0">Bravely thou singest in the dark—</span> -<span class="i8">Why sing not I?</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>COME WHAT MAY</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Come what may—</span> -<span class="i0">Though what remaineth I may not know,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor how many times the rose may blow</span> -<span class="i0">For my delight, or whether the years</span> -<span class="i0">Shall be set to the chime of falling tears,</span> -<span class="i2">Or go on their way rejoicing—</span> -<span class="i4">Yet, come what may,</span> -<span class="i4">I have had my day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Come what may—</span> -<span class="i0">The lurid storm or the sunset peace,</span> -<span class="i0">The lingering pain or the swift release,</span> -<span class="i0">Lonely vigils and watchings long,</span> -<span class="i0">Passionate prayer or soaring song,</span> -<span class="i2">Or silence deep and golden—</span> -<span class="i4">Still, come what may,</span> -<span class="i4">I have had my day!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Come what may,</span> -<span class="i0">I have known the fiery heart of youth,</span> -<span class="i0">Its rapturous joy, its bitter ruth;</span> -<span class="i0">I have felt the thrill of the eager doer,</span> -<span class="i0">The quick heart-throb of the swift pursuer,</span> -<span class="i2">The flush of glad possession—</span> -<span class="i4">And, come what may,</span> -<span class="i4">I have had my day!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Come what may,</span> -<span class="i0">I have learned that out of the night is born</span> -<span class="i0">The mystic flower of the early morn;</span> -<span class="i0">I have learned that after the frost of pain</span> -<span class="i0">The lily of peace will bloom again,</span> -<span class="i2">And the rose of consolation.</span> -<span class="i4">Then, come what may,</span> -<span class="i4">I have had my day!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>NUREMBERG</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the wide, tumultuous sea</span> -<span class="i0">In trancèd hours I dream of thee,</span> -<span class="i0">Ancient city of song and myth,</span> -<span class="i0">Whose name is a name to conjure with,</span> -<span class="i4">And make the heart throb, Nuremberg!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see thee fair in the white moonlight;</span> -<span class="i0">The stars are asleep at noon of night,</span> -<span class="i0">Save one that between St. Lawrence’ spires</span> -<span class="i0">Kindles aloft its silver fires—</span> -<span class="i4">A flaming cresset, Nuremberg!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Leaning over thy river’s brim</span> -<span class="i0">Crowd the red roofs and oriels dim,</span> -<span class="i0">While under its bridges glide and gleam</span> -<span class="i0">The rippling waves of a silent stream,</span> -<span class="i4">Sparkling and darkling, Nuremberg!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, the charm of each haunted street,</span> -<span class="i0">Ways where Beauty and Duty meet;</span> -<span class="i0">Sculptured miracles soaring free</span> -<span class="i0">In temple and mart for all to see,</span> -<span class="i4">Wherever the light falls, Nuremberg!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Even thy beggars lift their eyes,</span> -<span class="i0">Finding ever some new surprise;</span> -<span class="i0">Even thy children pause from play,</span> -<span class="i0">To hear what thy graven marbles say,</span> -<span class="i4">Thy myriad voices, Nuremberg!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Other cities for crown and king</span> -<span class="i0">Wide their glorious banners fling,</span> -<span class="i0">Lifting high on the azure field</span> -<span class="i0">Blazoned trophies of sword and shield,</span> -<span class="i4">That pierce the far skies, Nuremberg!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou, O city of old renown,</span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost painter and sculptor crown;</span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost give to the poet bays,</span> -<span class="i0">Immortelles for the deathless lays</span> -<span class="i4">Chanted for thee, fair Nuremberg!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They are thy Lords of High Degree,</span> -<span class="i0">Marvels of art who wrought for thee,</span> -<span class="i0">Toiling on with tireless will</span> -<span class="i0">Till the wondrous hands in death were still.</span> -<span class="i4">Being dead, they yet speak, Nuremberg!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They were dust and ashes long ago;</span> -<span class="i0">Over their graves the sweet winds blow;</span> -<span class="i0">Yet they are alive whom men call dead—</span> -<span class="i0">This is thy spell, when all is said;</span> -<span class="i4">This is thy glory, Nuremberg!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_464" id="Page_464">[464]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>A MATER DOLOROSA</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then down the street came Giacomo, flushed</span> -<span class="i0">With wine and laughter. I can see him now,</span> -<span class="i0">With Giulio, Florian, and young Angelo,</span> -<span class="i0">Arms interlaced, hands clasped, a roisterous crew</span> -<span class="i0">Of merry, harmless idlers. Ah, so long,</span> -<span class="i0">So long ago it was! Yet I can see</span> -<span class="i0">Just how the campanile shone that night</span> -<span class="i0">Like molten silver, while its carven saints</span> -<span class="i0">Prayed in the moonlight. Then a shadow crept</span> -<span class="i0">Over the moon’s face; and it grew so dark</span> -<span class="i0">That the red star in Giacomo’s cap</span> -<span class="i0">Paled and went out, and Giulio’s shoulder-clasp</span> -<span class="i0">Lost all the lustre of its burnished gold,</span> -<span class="i0">And faded out of sight. Strange, how we lose</span> -<span class="i0">So much we would remember, and yet keep</span> -<span class="i0">Trifles like this until the day of doom!</span> -<span class="i0">They had swept past me where I stood in shade</span> -<span class="i0">When Giacomo turned. Just then the moon</span> -<span class="i0">Shone out again, illumining the place,</span> -<span class="i0">And he paused laughing, catching sight of me</span> -<span class="i0">There by the fountain.—Nay, sweet Signor, nay!</span> -<span class="i0">I was young then, and some said I was fair;</span> -<span class="i0">But I loved not Giacomo, nor he me.—</span> -<span class="i0">Back he came crying, “Little one, take heed!</span> -<span class="i0">Know you Fra Alessandro? He would have</span> -<span class="i0">A model for his picture. Go you then</span> -<span class="i0">To-morrow to his studio and say</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Giacomo sent you. At the convent there,</span> -<span class="i0">Near Santa Croce.”</span> -<span class="i8">So I thither went</span> -<span class="i0">Early next morning, trembling as I stole</span> -<span class="i0">Into the master’s presence. A grave man</span> -<span class="i0">Of most unworldly aspect, with bowed head</span> -<span class="i0">And pale chin resting on his long, thin hand,</span> -<span class="i0">He sat before an easel, lost in thought.</span> -<span class="i0">“Giacomo sent me,” said I, creeping in,</span> -<span class="i0">And then stood breathless. Swift as light he turned,</span> -<span class="i0">But smiled not, spoke not, while his searching eye</span> -<span class="i0">For minutes that seemed hours scanned my face,</span> -<span class="i0">Reading it line by line. Signor, it seemed</span> -<span class="i0">As if the judgment-day had come, and God</span> -<span class="i0">Sat on the great white throne! At length he spoke,</span> -<span class="i0">Nodding as one content—“To-morrow morn</span> -<span class="i0">I pray thee come thou hither. Canst thou bring</span> -<span class="i0">A little child with thee—some fair, sweet child</span> -<span class="i0">Whose eyes are like the morning?”</span> -<span class="i8">Then I said,</span> -<span class="i0">Bethinking me of Beppo’s little boy</span> -<span class="i0">Whose mother died last week—“Yes, I will come</span> -<span class="i0">Surely, my father, and will bring with me</span> -<span class="i0">The fairest child in Florence.” “It is well,”</span> -<span class="i0">Softly he answered, and a sudden light</span> -<span class="i0">Made his pale face all glorious. At the door</span> -<span class="i0">I paused, and looking backward saw him bow</span> -<span class="i0">Before the easel as before a shrine.</span> -<span class="i0">I know not if he prayed, but never saint</span> -<span class="i0">Had aspect more divine.</span> -<span class="i8">Next day I went</span> -<span class="i0">With little Nello to the studio.</span> -<span class="i0">Impatiently the Frate greeted us,</span> -<span class="i0">Palette in hand. “So!—Thou art come at last?”</span> -<span class="i0">But as I drew the cap from Nello’s head</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span> -<span class="i0">And the moist tendrils of his golden hair</span> -<span class="i0">Fell softly on his forehead, he cried out:</span> -<span class="i0">“The boy is like an angel! And thy face,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy face, my daughter, I have seen in dreams,</span> -<span class="i0">But in dreams only. So, then, stand thou there,</span> -<span class="i0">And let the boy sit throned upon thine arm,</span> -<span class="i0">As thus, or thus.”</span> -<span class="i8">The child was half afraid;</span> -<span class="i0">And round my neck he clasped his clinging arms,</span> -<span class="i0">Lifting his face to mine, a questioning face,</span> -<span class="i0">Filled with soft, startled wonder. While I held</span> -<span class="i0">Him close and soothed him, Alessandro cried,</span> -<span class="i0">“O, hold him thus forever! Do not stir!</span> -<span class="i0">I paint a virgin for an altar-piece.</span> -<span class="i0">And thou and this fair child——”</span> -<span class="i8">Even while he spoke</span> -<span class="i0">He turned back to the easel; but I sprang</span> -<span class="i0">From the low pedestal, and, with the boy</span> -<span class="i0">Still in my arms, I fell down at his feet.</span> -<span class="i0">“Not that, not that, my father!” swift I cried,</span> -<span class="i0">While my hot forehead touched his garment’s hem;</span> -<span class="i0">“Not that, for God’s sake! Paint me otherwise.</span> -<span class="i0">Paint me as martyr, or as Magdalen,</span> -<span class="i0">As saint, or sibyl—whatsoe’er you will,</span> -<span class="i0">Only not that, not that!”</span> -<span class="i8">Smiling he stooped</span> -<span class="i0">And raised me from the ground, and took the child</span> -<span class="i0">In unaccustomed arms all tenderly,</span> -<span class="i0">Placing his brown beads in the dimpled hand.</span> -<span class="i0">“But why ‘not that,’ my daughter? Nothing else</span> -<span class="i0">Ever paint I! Not saint, nor Magdalen,</span> -<span class="i0">Only the Virgin and her Holy Child.”</span> -<span class="i4">Then suddenly I saw it all—the light</span> -<span class="i0">Dim in cathedral aisles, the kneeling crowds,</span> -<span class="i0">The swinging censers, candles burning clear,</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span> -<span class="i0">With flash of jewels, splendor and perfume,</span> -<span class="i0">The high white altar, and above a face,</span> -<span class="i0"><i>My</i> face, pale shining through the scented gloom</span> -<span class="i0">Like a lone star! Then in the hush a voice</span> -<span class="i0">Chanted “Hail, Mary”—and my heart stood still.</span> -<span class="i0">I who had been a sinner, could I dare</span> -<span class="i0">Thus to mock God and man? Low at his feet</span> -<span class="i0">Again I fell, and there I told him all</span> -<span class="i0">As he had been my soul’s confessor, poured</span> -<span class="i0">My very heart out. Signor, life is hard</span> -<span class="i0">And cruel to child-women, when the street</span> -<span class="i0">Is their sole nursing mother. I had had</span> -<span class="i0">No friend, no home, save when old Barbara</span> -<span class="i0">In some rare mood of pity let me creep</span> -<span class="i0">Under her wing for shelter. Then she died,</span> -<span class="i0">And even that poor semblance of a home</span> -<span class="i0">Was mine no longer. Yet, as the years went on,</span> -<span class="i0">Out of the dust and moil I grew as tall</span> -<span class="i0">And fair as lily in a garden plot,</span> -<span class="i0">Shut in by ivied cloisters—Let it pass!—</span> -<span class="i0">God knows how girls are tempted when false love</span> -<span class="i0">Comes with beguiling words and tender lips,</span> -<span class="i0">Promising all things, and their barren lives</span> -<span class="i0">Break into sudden bloom as when a bud</span> -<span class="i0">Unfolds its shining petals in the sun</span> -<span class="i0">And joys to be a rose!</span> -<span class="i23">No word he spake,</span> -<span class="i0">Fra Alessandro, sitting mute and pale.</span> -<span class="i0">But Nello, wondering at my sighs and tears,</span> -<span class="i0">Dropped the brown rosary and thrust his hands</span> -<span class="i0">Into the shining masses of my hair,</span> -<span class="i0">Pulling the bodkin out, and lifted up</span> -<span class="i0">My wet, wan face to kiss it. God is good;</span> -<span class="i0">And even in that dark hour a thrill of joy</span> -<span class="i0">Ran through my soul as the pure lips met mine.</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span> -<span class="i4">Still I knelt, waiting judgment, with the child</span> -<span class="i0">Clasped to my bosom, daring not to raise</span> -<span class="i0">My eyes to the face above me. Well I knew</span> -<span class="i0">It was the priest’s face, not the painter’s, now!</span> -<span class="i0">Was it his voice that through the silence stole,</span> -<span class="i0">“A little child shall lead them,” murmuring low?</span> -<span class="i0">Just for one instant on my head a hand</span> -<span class="i0">Fell as in benediction. Then he said</span> -<span class="i0">“Arise, my daughter, and come thou with me</span> -<span class="i0">Where bide the holy sisters of St. Clare,</span> -<span class="i0">Ruled by their abbess, saintliest of all</span> -<span class="i0">The saintly sisterhood. By work and prayer,</span> -<span class="i0">Fasting and penance, thou shalt purge thy soul</span> -<span class="i0">Of all iniquity, and make it clean.”</span> -<span class="i0">Startled I answered him—“But who will care</span> -<span class="i0">For Nello then? His mother died last week,</span> -<span class="i0">And Beppo’s heart is buried in her grave—</span> -<span class="i0">He cares not for the child, nor gives him love.”</span> -<span class="i0">But with a wide sweep of his beckoning arm</span> -<span class="i0">Down the long cloisters strode he, and across</span> -<span class="i0">The heated pavement of the market-place,</span> -<span class="i0">Nor looked to see if we were following him</span> -<span class="i0">Until he paused before the convent gate;</span> -<span class="i0">Then rang the bell, and in the pause I heard</span> -<span class="i0">The sisters chanting, and grew faint with shame.</span> -<span class="i0">“Fear not, my child,” Fra Alessandro said.</span> -<span class="i0">“Here comes Jacinta. Go you in with her,</span> -<span class="i0">And straightway tell the abbess all the tale</span> -<span class="i0">Told unto me this day. Farewell! ”The gate</span> -<span class="i0">Swung to with iron clang, and Nello’s arms</span> -<span class="i0">Half strangled me as round my neck he clung,</span> -<span class="i0">Awed by the holy stillness.</span> -<span class="i28">Since that hour</span> -<span class="i0">I with the humble sisters of St. Clare</span> -<span class="i0">Have given myself to deeds of mercy, works</span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span> -<span class="i0">Meet for repentance, ministering still</span> -<span class="i0">Unto all souls that suffer, even as now</span> -<span class="i0">I minister to you.</span> -<span class="i20">But what, you ask,</span> -<span class="i0">Of the boy Nello? Beppo died that year—</span> -<span class="i0">God rest his soul!—and the child ’bode with us.</span> -<span class="i0">But when the lad drew nigh to man’s estate—</span> -<span class="i0">Too old for women’s guidance—he was found</span> -<span class="i0">Oftener than elsewhere at the studio</span> -<span class="i0">Of old Fra Alessandro. He became</span> -<span class="i0">A painter, Signor, and men call him great.</span> -<span class="i0">I know not if he is—but you can see</span> -<span class="i0">His pictures yonder in San Spirito.</span> -<span class="i2">You’ve seen them? seen my face there? now you know</span> -<span class="i0">Whence comes the semblance that has puzzled you</span> -<span class="i0">Through all these weeks of languor?</span> -<span class="i36">It may be.</span> -<span class="i0">I am too old to care now, have outlived</span> -<span class="i0">Youth and its petty consciousness. My face</span> -<span class="i0">Is mine no longer. It is God’s alone.</span> -<span class="i0">A Mater Dolorosa?—It is well!</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span> -</div></div></div> - -<h3>AFTER LONG WAITING</h3> - -<div class="poetry-container"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">After long waiting when my soul puts off</span> -<span class="i0">This mortal vesture and is free to go</span> -<span class="i0">Through all God’s universe in search of thee,</span> -<span class="i0">How shall it find thee, O, beloved and lost?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through the wide, shadowy spaces, through the deep</span> -<span class="i0">Profound abysses where the dim spheres roll;</span> -<span class="i0">Through starry mazes and through violet seas,</span> -<span class="i0">And purple reaches stretched from world to world;</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond the bounds of all it hath conceived,</span> -<span class="i0">Where knowledge falters and where reason fails,</span> -<span class="i0">And only faith’s strong pinion dares to soar,</span> -<span class="i0">How shall it make its lonely way to thee?</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In that far realm what myriads abide!</span> -<span class="i0">When I have reached it, wilt thou find me, dear?</span> -<span class="i0">One grain of sand beside the unresting sea—</span> -<span class="i0">One blade of grass where endless prairies roll!</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall have changed, O love, I shall have changed!</span> -<span class="i0">The face you knew I shall no longer wear;</span> -<span class="i0">For few or many though the years may be,</span> -<span class="i0">My youth fled with thee to the shore unknown.</span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[471]</a></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have grown older here, whilst thou beneath</span> -<span class="i0">The tree of life hast found thy youth again;</span> -<span class="i0">I have grown faint, while strong, exultant, free,</span> -<span class="i0">Thy swift, glad feet scale the blue heights of God.</span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O friend and lover, go thou not too far!</span> -<span class="i0">Delay, delay, thine upward soaring flight,</span> -<span class="i0">Lest when I come, all tremulous with joy,</span> -<span class="i0">I fail to find thee on the heavenly hills!</span> -</div></div></div> -<hr class="r25" /> -<div class="transnote bbox"> -<p class="f120 space-above1">Transcriber's Notes:</p> -<hr class="r5" /> -<p class="indent">The cover image was created by the transcriber, and is in the public domain.</p> -<p class="indent">Uncertain or antiquated spellings or ancient words were not corrected.</p> -<p class="indent">Errors in punctuation and inconsistent hyphenation were not corrected - unless otherwise noted.</p> -<p class="indent">Typographical errors have been silently corrected but other variations - in spelling and punctuation remain unaltered.</p> -<p class="indent">Where double quotes have been repeated at the beginnings of - consecutive stanzas, they have been omitted for clarity.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Poems, by Julia C. 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