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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Bramble Brae, by Robert Bridges.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 55052 ***</div>
<hr class="full" />
<div class="figcenter">
<a href="images/cover_lg.jpg">
<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="353" height="500" alt="[Image
of the book's cover unavailable.]" /></a>
</div>
<div class="blockquot">
<p class="c"><span class="smcap">Books in Prose by</span><br />
ROBERT BRIDGES<br />
(<span class="smcap">Droch</span>)</p>
<p class="c">OVERHEARD IN ARCADY</p>
<p>Dialogues about Howells, James, Aldrich, Stockton, Davis, Crawford,
Kipling, Meredith, Stevenson, Barrie. Illustrated, <i>Fourth
Edition</i>, $1.25.</p>
<p class="c">SUPPRESSED CHAPTERS,<br /> <small>AND OTHER BOOKISHNESS</small></p>
<p><span class="smcap">Contents</span>: Suppressed Chapters—Arcadian Letters—Novels that
Everybody Read—The Literary Partition of Scotland—Friends in
Arcady—Arcadian Opinions. <i>Third Edition</i>, $1.25.</p></div>
<p class="cb"><a name="Bramble_Brae" id="Bramble_Brae"></a>Bramble Brae</p>
<div class="bbox">
<h1>Bramble Brae</h1>
<p class="cb">
By<br />
Robert Bridges<br />
(<i>Droch</i>)<br />
<br /><br /><br />
New York<br />
<span class="redd">Charles Scribner’s Sons</span><br />
1902</p>
</div>
<p class="c">
Copyright, 1902, by<br />
<span class="smcap">Charles Scribner’s Sons</span><br />
———<br />
<i>Published March, 1902</i><br />
<br />
<span class="smcap">The De Vinne Press</span><br />
</p>
<h3><a name="To_my_Father" id="To_my_Father"></a><span class="eng">To my Father</span></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">You</span> called the old farm Bramble Brae,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And loved it till your hair was gray<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And footsteps faltered while you trod<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sloping upland bright with sod.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It blossomed in your quiet life<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With gowans from the Neuk of Fife;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And while you walked the waving wheat<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You dreamed of heather and the peat.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You’ve gane awa! My spirit yearns<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To hear you read the songs of Burns;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The melody I’ve faintly caught<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is just the lesson that you taught.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">If any hear your gentle voice<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In verse of mine, then I’ll rejoice<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sing along my stumbling way,<br /></span>
<span class="iq">“He’s home again in Bramble Brae!”<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2>
<table border="0" cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="">
<tr><th>BETWEEN TWO WORLDS</th></tr>
<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#THE_UNILLUMINED_VERGE"><span class="smcap">The Unillumined Verge</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_001">1</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#FROM_ONE_LONG_DEAD"><span class="smcap">From One Long Dead</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_004">4</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#FATHER_TO_MOTHER"><span class="smcap">Father to Mother</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_006">6</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#THE_CHILD_TO_THE_FATHER"><span class="smcap">The Child to the Father</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_008">8</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#A_PRAYER_OF_OLD_AGE"><span class="smcap">A Prayer of Old Age</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_010">10</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#THE_RHONE_GLACIER_SUNSET"><span class="smcap">The Rhone Glacier—Sunset</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_014">14</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#JAMES_McCOSH"><span class="smcap">James McCosh</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_017">17</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#McGIFFEN"><span class="smcap">McGiffen</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_022">22</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#AT_THE_FARRAGUT_STATUE"><span class="smcap">At the Farragut Statue</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_025">25</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#NEWS_FROM_A_MISSING_LINER"><span class="smcap">News from a Missing Liner</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_027">27</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#FOR_A_CLASSMATE_DEAD_AT_SEA"><span class="smcap">For a Classmate Dead at Sea</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_029">29</a></td></tr>
<tr><th>BRAMBLE BRAE</th></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#A_TOAST_TO_OUR_NATIVE_LAND"><span class="smcap">A Toast to our Native Land</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_033">33</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#THE_TOWERS_OF_PRINCETON"><span class="smcap">The Towers of Princeton</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_034">34</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#ROOSEVELT_IN_WYOMING"><span class="smcap">Roosevelt in Wyoming</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_036">36</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#UNCLE_SAM_TO_KIPLING"><span class="smcap">Uncle Sam to Kipling</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_038">38</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#A_NEW_YEARS_WISH_FOR_THOSE_WHO_WRITE"><span class="smcap">A New Year’s Wish for Those Who Write</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_040">40</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#TO_CHLOE"><span class="smcap">To Chloe</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_042">42</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#TO_THE_ELF_ON_MY_CALENDAR"><span class="smcap">To the Elf on my Calendar</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_043">43</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#CAPRICE"><span class="smcap">Caprice</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_044">44</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#RETROSPECT"><span class="smcap">Retrospect</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_046">46</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_THE_CROWD"><span class="smcap">In the Crowd</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_047">47</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#REMEMBRANCE"><span class="smcap">Remembrance</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_048">48</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#OFF_FORT_HAMILTON_IN_SUMMER"><span class="smcap">Off Fort Hamilton in Summer</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_049">49</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#OVER_THE_FERRY"><span class="smcap">Over the Ferry</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_050">50</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#BRAMBLE_BRAE_IN_OCTOBER"><span class="smcap">Bramble Brae in October</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_052">52</a></td></tr>
<tr><th>WITH FLOWERS</th></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#ON_A_SPRAY_OF_HEATHER"><span class="smcap">On a Spray of Heather</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_057">57</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#THE_HOTHOUSE_VIOLET_SPEAKS"><span class="smcap">The Hothouse Violet Speaks</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_059">59</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#A_SONG"><span class="smcap">A Song</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_061">61</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#WHAT_THE_FLOWERS_SAID"><span class="smcap">What the Flowers Said</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_063">63</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#DIANAS_VALENTINE"><span class="smcap">Diana’s Valentine</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_065">65</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#WITH_SOME_BIRTHDAY_ROSES"><span class="smcap">With Some Birthday Roses</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_067">67</a></td></tr>
<tr><th>WRITTEN IN BOOKS</th></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_A_VOLUME_OF_HERRICK"><span class="smcap">In a Volume of Herrick</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_071">71</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_SHAKESPEARES_SONNETS"><span class="smcap">In “Shakespeare’s Sonnets”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_073">73</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_SONNETS_FROM_THE_PORTUGUESE"><span class="smcap">In “Sonnets from the Portuguese”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_074">74</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_GEORGE_MEREDITHS_POEMS"><span class="smcap">In George Meredith’s Poems</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_075">75</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_THE_KINGS_LYRICS"><span class="smcap">In “The King’s Lyrics”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_076">76</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#THE_SONG_OF_TEMBINOKA_KING_OF_APEMAMA"><span class="smcap">The Song of Tembinoka, King of Apemama</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_077">77</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_THE_MANNER_OF_KIPLING"><span class="smcap">In the Manner of Kipling</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_079">79</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#FOR_A_NOVEL_OF_HALL_CAINES"><span class="smcap">For a Novel of Hall Caine’s</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_080">80</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_HELBECK_OF_BANNISDALE"><span class="smcap">In “Helbeck of Bannisdale”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_081">81</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#A_CHRISTMAS_GREETING"><span class="smcap">A Christmas Greeting</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_082">82</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_NICHOLSONS_ALMANAC_OF_SPORTS"><span class="smcap">In Nicholson’s “Almanac of Sports”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_083">83</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_NICHOLSONS_CITY_TYPES"><span class="smcap">In Nicholson’s “City Types”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_084">84</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_THE_GOLDEN_TREASURY"><span class="smcap">In “The Golden Treasury”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_085">85</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#A_VALENTINE"><span class="smcap">A Valentine</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_086">86</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_HALLO_MY_FANCY"><span class="smcap">In “Hallo, my Fancy!”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_087">87</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#THE_BOOK_SPEAKS"><span class="smcap">The Book Speaks</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_088">88</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_HERFORDS_VERSES"><span class="smcap">In Herford’s Verses</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_089">89</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_A_BOOK_OF_GIBSONS_DRAWINGS"><span class="smcap">In a Book of Gibson’s Drawings</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_090">90</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_A_VOLUME_OF_MISS_GUINEYS_POEMS"><span class="smcap">In a Volume of Miss Guiney’s Poems</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_091">91</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#IN_BARBARA_FRIETCHIE_A_PLAY"><span class="smcap">In “Barbara Frietchie—A Play”</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_092">92</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#TO_C_H_M_AND_H_H_M"><span class="smcap">To C. H. M. and H. H. M.</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_094">94</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#TO_MY_MOTHER"><span class="smcap">To my Mother</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_096">96</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#A_BOOKS_SOLILOQUY"><span class="smcap">A Book’s Soliloquy</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_097">97</a></td></tr>
<tr><td valign="top" class="indd"><a href="#ENVOY"><span class="smcap">Envoy</span></a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_099">99</a></td></tr>
</table>
<h2>BETWEEN TWO WORLDS</h2>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">On</span> the dark decline of the unillumined<br /></span>
<span class="i0">verge between the two worlds.<br /></span>
<span class="i10"><i>George Meredith.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_001" id="page_001"></a>{1}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_UNILLUMINED_VERGE" id="THE_UNILLUMINED_VERGE"></a>THE UNILLUMINED VERGE<br /><br />
<small>TO A FRIEND DYING</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">They</span> tell you that Death’s at the turn of the road,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That under the shade of a cypress you’ll find him,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, struggling on wearily, lashed by the goad<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of pain, you will enter the black mist behind him.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I can walk with you up to the ridge of the hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And we’ll talk of the way we have come through the valley;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Down below there a bird breaks into a trill,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And a groaning slave bends to the oar of his galley.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">You are up on the heights now, you pity the slave—<br /></span>
<span class="i2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_002" id="page_002"></a>{2}</span>“Poor soul, how fate lashes him on at his rowing!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet it’s joyful to live, and it’s hard to be brave<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When you watch the sun sink and the daylight is going.”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We are almost there—our last walk on this height—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I must bid you good-by at that cross on the mountain.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">See the sun glowing red, and the pulsating light<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Fill the valley, and rise like the flood in a fountain!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And it shines in your face and illumines your soul;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">We are comrades as ever, right here at your going;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You may rest if you will within sight of the goal,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">While I must return to my oar and the rowing.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We must part now? Well, here is the hand of a friend;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I will keep you in sight till the road makes its turning<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Just over the ridge within reach of the end<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of your arduous toil—the beginning of learning.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_003" id="page_003"></a>{3}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">You will call to me once from the mist, on the verge,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">“Au revoir!” and “good night!” while the twilight is creeping<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Up luminous peaks, and the pale stars emerge?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Yes, I hear your faint voice: “This is rest, and like sleeping!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_004" id="page_004"></a>{4}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<h3><a name="FROM_ONE_LONG_DEAD" id="FROM_ONE_LONG_DEAD"></a>FROM ONE LONG DEAD</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">What</span>! <i>You</i> here in the moonlight and thinking of me?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Is it you, O my comrade, who laughed at my jest?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But you wept when I told you I longed to be free,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And you mourned for a while when they laid me at rest.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I’ve been dead all these years! and to-night in your heart<br /></span>
<span class="i2">There’s a stir of emotion, a vision that slips—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It’s <i>my</i> face in the moonlight that gives you a start,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">It’s my name that in joy rushes up to your lips!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yes, I’m young, oh, so young, and so little I know!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A mere child that is learning to walk and to run;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While I grasp at the shadows that wave to and fro<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I am dazzled a bit by the light of the Sun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_005" id="page_005"></a>{5}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I am learning the lesson, I try to grow wise,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But at night I am baffled and worn by the strife;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I am humbled, and then there’s an impulse to rise,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And a voice whispers, “Onward and win! This is Life!”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And the Force that is drawing me up to the Height,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That inspires me and thrills me,—each day a new birth,—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is the Force that to Chaos said, “Let there be Light!”<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And it gave us sweet glimpses of Heaven on Earth.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">It is Love! and you know it and feel it, my Soul!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For you love me in spite of the grave and its bars.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And it moves the whole Universe on to its goal,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And it draws frail Humanity up to the stars!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_006" id="page_006"></a>{6}</span></p>
<h3><a name="FATHER_TO_MOTHER" id="FATHER_TO_MOTHER"></a>FATHER TO MOTHER</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">This</span> is our child, Dear—flesh of our flesh and bone of our bone;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Here is the end of our youth, and now we begin to atone.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now we do feel what their love was—those who have reared us and taught;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now do we know of the treasures that neither are sold nor bought.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Here is the joy of the Race—joy that must grow out of pain;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Here is the last of our Self—now we are links in the chain.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Body of yours and mine no more is the measure of grief—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All that <i>he</i> suffers is ours—and increased while we cry for relief;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_007" id="page_007"></a>{7}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yea, for our boy, our Beloved, we’ll yearn through the beckoning years—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Toil for him, laugh with him, struggle, and pour out the fountain of tears!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_008" id="page_008"></a>{8}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_CHILD_TO_THE_FATHER" id="THE_CHILD_TO_THE_FATHER"></a>THE CHILD TO THE FATHER</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Father</span>, it’s your love that safely guides me,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Always it’s around me, night and day;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It shelters me, and soothes, but never chides me:<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Yet, father, there’s a shadow in my way.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">All the day, my father, I am playing<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Under trees where sunbeams dance and dart—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But often just at night when I am praying<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I feel this awful hunger in my heart.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Father, there is something—it has missed me;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I’ve felt it through my little days and years;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And even when you petted me and kissed me<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I’ve cried myself to sleep with burning tears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_009" id="page_009"></a>{9}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To-day I saw a child and mother walking;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I caught a gentle shining in her eye,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And music in her voice when she was talking—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Oh, father, is it <i>that</i> that makes me cry?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Oh, never can I put my arms around her,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Or never cuddle closer in the night;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Mother, oh, my mother! I’ve not found her—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I look for her and cry from dark to light!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_010" id="page_010"></a>{10}</span></p>
<h3><a name="A_PRAYER_OF_OLD_AGE" id="A_PRAYER_OF_OLD_AGE"></a>A PRAYER OF OLD AGE</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O <span class="smcap">Lord</span>, I am so used to all the byways<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Throughout Thy devious world,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The little hill-paths, yea, and the great highways<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Where saints are safely whirled!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And there are crooked ways, forbidden pleasures,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That lured me with their spell;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But there I lingered not, and found no treasures—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Though in the mire I fell.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And now I’m old and worn, and, scarcely seeing<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The beauties of Thy work,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I catch faint glimpses of the shadows fleeing<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Through valleys in the murk;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet I can feel my way—my mem’ry guides me;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I bear the yoke and smile.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’m used to life, and nothing wounds or chides me;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Lord, let me live awhile!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_011" id="page_011"></a>{11}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And then, dear Lord, I still can feel the thrilling<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of Nature in the Spring—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The uplift of Thy hills, the song-birds trilling,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The lyric joy they bring.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’m not too old to see the regal beauty<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of moon and stars and sun;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nature can still reveal to me my duty<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Till my long task is done.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">O Lord, to me the pageant is entrancing—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The march of States and Kings!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I keenly watch the human race advancing<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And see Man master Things:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From him who read the secret of the thunder<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And made the lightning kind,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Down to this marvel—all the growing wonder<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of force controlled by Mind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_012" id="page_012"></a>{12}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And this dear land of ours, the freeman’s Nation!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Lord, let me live and see<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fulfilment of our fathers’ aspiration,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When each man’s really free!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When all the strength and skill that move the mountains,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And pile up riches great,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Shall sweeten patriotism at its fountains<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And purify the State!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But there are closer ties than these that bind me<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And make me long to stay<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And linger in the dusk where Death may find me<br /></span>
<span class="i2">On Thine own chosen day;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There’s one who walks beside me in the gloaming<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And holds my faltering hand—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without her guidance I can make no homing<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In any distant land.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_013" id="page_013"></a>{13}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Some day when we are tired, like children playing,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And wearied drop our toys—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When all the work and burden of our staying<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Has mingled with our joys—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With those we love around—our eyelids drooping,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Too spent with toil to weep—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like some kind nurse o’er drowsy children stooping,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Lord, take us home to sleep!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_014" id="page_014"></a>{14}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_RHONE_GLACIER_SUNSET" id="THE_RHONE_GLACIER_SUNSET"></a>THE RHONE GLACIER—SUNSET</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Like</span> the uncounted years of God it rolls<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From out the sky. The light of heaven shines<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Upon its wrinkled brow, that seems a part<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of that stupendous dome of boundless blue<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where, like a pebble in the ocean depths,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This little world is lost. The sparkling sun<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plays gently in the deep green, icy clefts<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like moonlight in the tender eyes of one<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who looks to heaven to find her lover’s face.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Silent, serene, implacable it stands—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A mighty symbol of the Force that moved<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Across the surface of the youthful earth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And scored the continents with valleys deep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As children write upon the yielding sand.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Back to the dawn of things its lineage runs—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Countless ages back to that bleak time<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_015" id="page_015"></a>{15}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">When frightful monsters played upon the hills—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Always the same, yet moving slowly onward,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In heaven its head, its feet upon the world.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The Rhone that trickles from the glacier’s edge—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Makes valleys smile with grain and flower and fruit<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And turns the wheels that forge the tools of trade—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is but the lash with which the giant plays<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And spins the tops that swarm with struggling men.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">“What is Man, that Thou art mindful of him?”—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This pleasure or this pain, this wealth or want,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This tragic comedy we call our life!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Across the meadows as the evening falls<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A shepherd drives his sheep, and fondly bears<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Above the rocky stream the weakling lamb;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The children hear the father’s kindly voice<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And run to greet and cheer his late return,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While from his humble cottage gleams a light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_016" id="page_016"></a>{16}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The sheep are nestled in their sheltering fold—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The door springs open to a welcome cry,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all at last are safe within the Home.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">In cold and awful majesty it stands<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Against the darkening sky,—Force without warmth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Strength without passion.<br /></span>
<span class="i12">But at the touch<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of homely human ways its terrors flee<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Force is swallowed up in Life with Love.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_017" id="page_017"></a>{17}</span></p>
<h3><a name="JAMES_McCOSH" id="JAMES_McCOSH"></a>JAMES McCOSH<br /><br />
<small>1811-1894</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Young</span> to the end through sympathy with youth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gray man of learning—champion of truth!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Direct in rugged speech, alert in mind,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He felt his kinship with all humankind,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And never feared to trace development<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of high from low—assured and full content<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That man paid homage to the Mind above,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Uplifted by the “Royal Law of Love.”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The laws of nature that he loved to trace<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have worked, at last, to veil from us his face;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dear old elms and ivy-covered walls<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Will miss his presence, and the stately halls<br /></span>
<span class="i0">His trumpet-voice; while in their joys<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sorrow will shadow those he called “my boys”!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_018" id="page_018"></a>{18}</span></p>
<h3><a name="LE_BONHEUR_DE_CE_MONDE" id="LE_BONHEUR_DE_CE_MONDE"></a>LE BONHEUR DE CE MONDE<br /><br />
<small>(Copie d’un sonnet composé par Plantin au XVI<sup>e</sup> siècle.)</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Avoir</span> une maiſon commode, propre & belle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Un jardin tapiſſé d’eſpaliers odorans,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Des fruits, d’excellent vin, peu de train, peu d’enfans,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Poſſeder ſeul, ſans bruit, une femme fidéle.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">N’avoir dettes, amour, ni procés, ni querelle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ni de partage à faire avecque ſes parens,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Se contenter de peu, n’eſpérer rien des Grands,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Régler tous ſes deſſeins sur un juſte modéle.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Vivre avecque franchiſe & ſans ambition,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">S’adonner ſans ſcrupule à la dévotion,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Domter ſes paſſions, les rendre obéiſſantes.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Conſerver l’eſprit libre, & le jugement fort,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dire ſon Chapelet en cultivant ſes entes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">C’eſt attendre chez ſoi bien doucement la mort.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_019" id="page_019"></a>{19}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_HAPPINESS_OF_THIS_WORLD" id="THE_HAPPINESS_OF_THIS_WORLD"></a>THE HAPPINESS OF THIS WORLD<br /><br />
<small>FROM THE FRENCH OF PLANTIN</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To</span> have a home, convenient for thy life,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With fragrant fruit-walls in a garden fine,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Some children, some retainers, and rare wine;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To live serenely with thy faithful wife;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To have no debts, nor quarrels, nor legal strife,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Nor separation from dear kin of thine;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Expecting nothing from the Great, to shine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With modest light and just, where greed is rife.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">To live with freedom, yet to be devout,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ruling thy well-curbed passions—and without<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Ambition’s scourge to thwart thy regnant will;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Truly to worship God with ardent breath<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Among His shrubs and trees on plain and hill—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thus pleasantly shalt thou at home wait Death.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_020" id="page_020"></a>{20}</span></p>
<h3><a name="R_L_S" id="R_L_S"></a>R. L. S.</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="iq">“<i>Where hath fleeting Beauty led?</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>To the doorway of the dead.</i>”<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All the way you followed her<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Tripping through the palms and fir;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All the way around you flew<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Splendid spirits from the blue—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dreams and visions lightly caught<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the meshes of your thought.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What a glorious retinue<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Made that arduous chase with you!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Half the world stood still to see<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Song and Fancy follow free<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At the waving of your wand—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While the echoing hills respond<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To your voice.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_021" id="page_021"></a>{21}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i15">And now the race<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Ends with your averted face;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At full effort you have sped<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through that doorway of the dead—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the hills and woods remain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Peopled from your teeming brain!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All that stately company<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Linger where their eyes may see<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beauty fling the laurel o’er,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At the closing of the door!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="indd3">From <i>Suppressed Chapters</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_022" id="page_022"></a>{22}</span></p>
<h3><a name="McGIFFEN" id="McGIFFEN"></a>McGIFFEN<br /><br />
<small>THE HERO COMING HOME</small></h3>
<p class="c">
His body was clad in his uniform of Captain in the Chinese Navy,<br />
and sent home to his mother at Washington, Pennsylvania.<br />
</p>
<p class="r">
<i>Associated Press.</i><br />
</p>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">I <span class="smcap">lent</span> him to my country,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And he wore the Navy blue;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I bade him do his duty,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And he said he would be true.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">It’s home they say you’re coming—<br /></span>
<span class="i6">And it’s home you came to me<br /></span>
<span class="i4">When you wore your first blue jacket<br /></span>
<span class="i6">At the old Academy.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And the neighbors said, “How handsome!<br /></span>
<span class="i6">What a sailor he will be!”<br /></span>
<span class="i4">But I only drew him closer<br /></span>
<span class="i6">In my coddling mother’s joy,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And said, “Well, what’s a sailor?<br /></span>
<span class="i6">He’s my brave boy!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_023" id="page_023"></a>{23}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And then they told the story<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of his courage in the fight—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How he ruled a heathen war-ship<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And fought it with his might.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">It’s home he wrote his mother<br /></span>
<span class="i6">When the smoke had cleared away:<br /></span>
<span class="i4">“I can <i>see</i>—so don’t you worry—<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Though I’m riddled by the fray.”<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And the neighbors said, “How glorious!<br /></span>
<span class="i6">What a Hero is your son!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">The world is all a-talking<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Of the battle that he won!”<br /></span>
<span class="i4">I said, “Well, what’s a Hero?<br /></span>
<span class="i6">He’s my brave son!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_024" id="page_024"></a>{24}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And now to me he’s coming,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And he wears a Captain’s bars;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It’s a foreign nation’s uniform,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But wrapped in Stripes and Stars.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i4">It’s home at last you’re coming,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">And it’s home at last to me.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">You’re a hero and immortal,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">And you fought to make men free.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">But your heart is cold within you<br /></span>
<span class="i6">And your dear eyes cannot see!<br /></span>
<span class="i4">They say, “Be strong, O mother;<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Proud laurels crown his head!”<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Alas, what’s left of glory?<br /></span>
<span class="i6">My boy, my boy is dead!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_025" id="page_025"></a>{25}</span></p>
<h3><a name="AT_THE_FARRAGUT_STATUE" id="AT_THE_FARRAGUT_STATUE"></a>AT THE FARRAGUT STATUE</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To</span> live a hero, then to stand<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In bronze serene above the city’s throng;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hero at sea, and now on land<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Revered by thousands as they rush along;<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If these were all the gifts of fame—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To be a shade amid alert reality,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And win a statue and a name—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">How cold and cheerless immortality!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But when the sun shines in the Square,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And multitudes are swarming in the street,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Children are always gathered there,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Laughing and playing round the hero’s feet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_026" id="page_026"></a>{26}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And in the crisis of the game—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With boyish grit and ardor it is played—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You’ll hear some youngster call his name:<br /></span>
<span class="i2">“The Admiral—he never was afraid!”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And so the hero daily lives,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And boys grow braver as the Man they see!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The inspiration that he gives<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Still helps to make them loyal, strong, and free!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_027" id="page_027"></a>{27}</span></p>
<h3><a name="NEWS_FROM_A_MISSING_LINER" id="NEWS_FROM_A_MISSING_LINER"></a>NEWS FROM A MISSING LINER<br /><br />
<small>TO A CONVALESCENT</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Crawling</span> back to port again, half her cargo shifted,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Just enough of fuel left to steam her to the pier;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Plunging through an icy gale when the fog has lifted,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Battered by the breakers, but her lights a-burning clear!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Hope almost abandoned, days and nights she floundered—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Nights when not a star was out and no sea-lights were near;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All the world believed her lost; men despaired, but wondered<br /></span>
<span class="i2">How the liner could be wrecked and Kipling there to steer!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_028" id="page_028"></a>{28}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now she makes her harbor-lights, glides through seas enchanted—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Whistles shrieking gayly and thousands at the pier;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On the bridge the Captain, pale and worn—undaunted!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">“Welcome back to life again!” Hear the people cheer!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_029" id="page_029"></a>{29}</span></p>
<h3><a name="FOR_A_CLASSMATE_DEAD_AT_SEA" id="FOR_A_CLASSMATE_DEAD_AT_SEA"></a>FOR A CLASSMATE DEAD AT SEA<br /><br />
<small>(W. F. STOUTENBURGH)</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">His</span> voice was gentle and his eyes were kind;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">No one among us but did call him friend;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fond woman’s heart and student’s thoughtful mind<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Together in him did with fitness blend:<br /></span>
<span class="i6">And now he is no more!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We blindly murmur at the bitter Fate<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That summoned him in other lands to roam;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And when upon him Sickness wrought its hate<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Half round the world, it brought him almost home,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">To die when near our shore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_030" id="page_030"></a>{30}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">We blindly murmur—but we only know<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Calm rests his body in old Ocean’s deeps;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While we are groping in the mists below,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Serene his soul on other, cloudless steeps—<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Forever—evermore.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_031" id="page_031"></a>{31}</span> </p>
<h2>BRAMBLE BRAE</h2>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_032" id="page_032"></a>{32}</span> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_033" id="page_033"></a>{33}</span> </p>
<h3><a name="A_TOAST_TO_OUR_NATIVE_LAND" id="A_TOAST_TO_OUR_NATIVE_LAND"></a>A TOAST TO OUR NATIVE LAND</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Huge</span> and alert, irascible yet strong,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We make our fitful way ’mid right and wrong.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One time we pour out millions to be free,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then rashly sweep an empire from the sea!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One time we strike the shackles from the slaves,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And then, quiescent, we are ruled by knaves.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Often we rudely break restraining bars,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And confidently reach out toward the stars.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Yet under all there flows a hidden stream<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sprung from the Rock of Freedom, the great dream<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of Washington and Franklin, men of old<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who knew that freedom is not bought with gold.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This is the Land we love, our heritage,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Strange mixture of the gross and fine, yet sage<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And full of promise—destined to be great.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drink to Our Native Land! God Bless the State!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_034" id="page_034"></a>{34}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_TOWERS_OF_PRINCETON" id="THE_TOWERS_OF_PRINCETON"></a>THE TOWERS OF PRINCETON<br /><br />
<small>FROM THE TRAIN</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">There</span> they are! above the green trees shining—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Old towers that top the castles of our dreams,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Their turrets bright with rays of sun declining—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A painted glory on the window gleams.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But, oh, the messages to travellers weary<br /></span>
<span class="i2">They signal through the ether in the dark!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The years are long, the path is steep and dreary,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But there’s a bell that struck in boyhood—hark!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The note is faint—but ghosts are gayly trooping<br /></span>
<span class="i2">From ivied halls and swarming ’neath the trees.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Old friends, you bring new life to spirits drooping—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Your laughter and your joy are in the breeze!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_035" id="page_035"></a>{35}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">They’re gone in dusk,—the towers and dreams are faded,—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">But something lingers of eternal Youth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We’re strong again, though doubting, worn, and jaded;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">We pledge anew to friends and love and truth!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_036" id="page_036"></a>{36}</span></p>
<h3><a name="ROOSEVELT_IN_WYOMING" id="ROOSEVELT_IN_WYOMING"></a>ROOSEVELT IN WYOMING
<br /><br /><small>
TOLD BY A GUIDE—1899</small><a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor1">[1]</a></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Do</span> you know Yancey’s? Where the winding trail<br /></span>
<span class="i2">From Washburn Mountain strikes the old stage road,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And wagons from Cooke City and the mail<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Unhitch awhile, and teamsters shift the load?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A handy bunch of men are round the stove<br /></span>
<span class="i2">At Yancey’s—hunters back from Jackson’s Hole,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And Ed Hough telling of a mighty drove<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of elk that he ran down to Teton Bowl.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And Yancey he says: “Mr. Woody, there,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Can tell a hunting yarn or two—beside,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He guided Roosevelt when he shot a bear<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And six bull elk with antlers spreading wide.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_037" id="page_037"></a>{37}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">But Woody is a guide who doesn’t brag;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">He puffed his pipe awhile, then gravely said:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">“I knew he’d put the Spaniards in a bag,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For Mister Roosevelt always picked a head.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">“That man won’t slosh around in politics<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And waste his time a-killing little game;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He studies elk, and men, and knows their tricks,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And when he picks a head he hits the same.”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now, down at Yancey’s every man’s a sport,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And free to back his knowledge up with lead;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And each believes that Roosevelt is the sort<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To run the State, because he “picks a head.”<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Tall, silent old Woody, a fine type of the fast-vanishing
race of game-hunters and Indian-fighters.
</p>
<p class="r">
Roosevelt’s <i>The Wilderness Hunter</i>.<br />
</p></div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_038" id="page_038"></a>{38}</span></p>
<h3><a name="UNCLE_SAM_TO_KIPLING" id="UNCLE_SAM_TO_KIPLING"></a>UNCLE SAM TO KIPLING<br /><br />
<small>(1899)</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Take</span> up the White Man’s burden!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Have done with childish days.<br /></span>
<span class="i12">R. K.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, thank you, Mr. Kipling,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For showing us the way<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To buckle down to business<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And end our “childish day.”<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We know we’re young and frisky<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And haven’t too much sense—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At least, not in the measure<br /></span>
<span class="i2">We’ll have a few years hence.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Now, this same “White Man’s burden”<br /></span>
<span class="i2">You’re asking us to tote<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is not so unfamiliar<br /></span>
<span class="i2">As you’re inclined to note.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We freed three million negroes,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Their babies and their wives;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It cost a billion dollars<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And near a million lives!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_039" id="page_039"></a>{39}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And while we were a-fighting<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In all those “thankless years”<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We did not get much helping—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Well, not from English “peers.”<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And so—with best intentions—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">We’re not exactly wild<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To free the Filipino,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">“Half devil and half child.”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Then, thank you, Mr. Kipling;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Though not disposed to groan<br /></span>
<span class="i0">About the “White Man’s burden,”<br /></span>
<span class="i2">We’ve troubles of our own;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Enough to keep us busy<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When English friends inquire,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">“Why don’t you use your talons?<br /></span>
<span class="i2"><i>There are chestnuts in the fire!</i>”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_040" id="page_040"></a>{40}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<h3><a name="A_NEW_YEARS_WISH_FOR_THOSE_WHO_WRITE" id="A_NEW_YEARS_WISH_FOR_THOSE_WHO_WRITE"></a>A NEW YEAR’S WISH FOR THOSE WHO WRITE</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">In</span> this time of joy and cheer<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When we greet the buoyant year,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now, old friends, we cherish you,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bless the dreams you’ve brought to view—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Kindly fancy, happy thought,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Visions from the fairies caught,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rhyme and story, song and play,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fantasy for holiday—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All the treasures of your mind<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Spent to make the world more kind.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">While we grope in dark and fog,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Flounder onward through the bog,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You, serene upon the height,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gambol in the cheery light—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Toss your laughter from the steep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bringing hope to those who weep.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What fair visions brightly gleam<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Through cloud-rifts! Your dearest dream<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Clothed in beauty on the peak,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Waiting for the Muse to speak.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_041" id="page_041"></a>{41}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Here’s our wish at New Year’s time,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Faint-expressed in halting rhyme:<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For the men who dream and write<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Make the future clear and bright;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Thaw the cynic from their heart—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Love and faith are highest Art.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Let them picture with their pen<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Not our <i>manners</i> but our <i>men</i>.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Bless them all at New Year’s tide!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">May their skill and fame abide!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And all women—charming, bright—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Grant that they may never write!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_042" id="page_042"></a>{42}</span></p>
<h3><a name="TO_CHLOE" id="TO_CHLOE"></a>TO CHLOE<br /><br />
<small>FOR A MENDED GLOVE</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Fair</span> Chloe looked upon the old torn glove,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Then touched its ragged edges with her fingers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And lo! the rent was closed—as if for love<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Sweet healing follows where her touch but lingers.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If all the rents that follow Chloe’s eyes,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And all the hearts despairingly defended,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Were healed so soon—we’d straightway realize<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That love and life are good as new when mended.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_043" id="page_043"></a>{43}</span></p>
<h3><a name="TO_THE_ELF_ON_MY_CALENDAR" id="TO_THE_ELF_ON_MY_CALENDAR"></a>TO THE ELF ON MY CALENDAR</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sweet</span> Elf, you’ll pipe a merry tune,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Make days and months all gladness;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The clear, bright note you sound in June<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Will cheer December’s sadness.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">You’ll never pout on rainy days,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Nor when it’s cold will shiver,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But sit serene and sing your lays.<br /></span>
<span class="i2">May Old Time bless the giver!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_044" id="page_044"></a>{44}</span></p>
<h3><a name="CAPRICE" id="CAPRICE"></a>CAPRICE</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Love</span> laughed awhile,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And ridiculed my daring<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To rashly crave a smile<br /></span>
<span class="i2">From her, heart-whole, uncaring.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, how Love laughed!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Love angry grew<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And spoiled her pretty features;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I was—she vowed it true—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The most despised of creatures.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, how Love frowned!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Love dropped a tear,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Her anger with it falling;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I felt her blue eyes clear,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">My heart and hopes enthralling.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, how Love cried!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_045" id="page_045"></a>{45}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Her tears Love dried,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And then she looked up sweetly;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No more her glance defied—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I pressed my suit discreetly.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Love kissed me then!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_046" id="page_046"></a>{46}</span></p>
<h3><a name="RETROSPECT" id="RETROSPECT"></a>RETROSPECT</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">At</span> evening, when the breeze dies down,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And regal Nature doffs her crown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When brown-limbed pines, like minarets,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fringe all the hills, and tired day frets<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To rest awhile—ah, then, I know,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Into a shadowed room you go,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And softly touch the organ keys;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While pale stars blink amid the trees<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You sing a peaceful vesper hymn<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That rises from your full heart’s brim;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your kindly eyes are dimmed with tears—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You wander through remembered years;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From gay to grave your fancies fly,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And end the journey with the cry:<br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>My heart played truant from my will!</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>I loved him then—I love him still.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_047" id="page_047"></a>{47}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_THE_CROWD" id="IN_THE_CROWD"></a>IN THE CROWD</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A <span class="smcap">pair</span> of brown eyes—no matter where,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In quiet street or crowded thoroughfare—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Call up the image of your face to me.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All others vanish, only you I see;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Above the din of trade your voice I hear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And merry laughter, ringing sweet and clear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That fades into a smile away:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Thus are you with me everywhere and every day.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_048" id="page_048"></a>{48}</span></p>
<h3><a name="REMEMBRANCE" id="REMEMBRANCE"></a>REMEMBRANCE</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">No</span>, not despair of ever quite forgetting<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The happy romance of those dreamy years,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The painful weariness of vain regretting<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Through all life’s varied way of love and tear<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not this the gladness of my heart represses,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With shadow tinges still each sunny thought<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fancy that with poignant touch distresses<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Is that by thee I am perhaps forgot!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_049" id="page_049"></a>{49}</span></p>
<h3><a name="OFF_FORT_HAMILTON_IN_SUMMER" id="OFF_FORT_HAMILTON_IN_SUMMER"></a>OFF FORT HAMILTON IN SUMMER</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Embrasured</span> guns, like wearied hounds, all sleeping,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Their muzzles resting on the cool, green turf;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Along the Fort their peaceful watch now keeping<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Above the mimic battle of the surf.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And you, dear one, now that my suit is ended—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Let passion slumber in your cool dark eyes;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The wiles by which your heart was well defended<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Embrasured there look love on summer skies.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_050" id="page_050"></a>{50}</span></p>
<h3><a name="OVER_THE_FERRY" id="OVER_THE_FERRY"></a>OVER THE FERRY<br /><br />
<small>ONOMATOPOETIC</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i6">Clang! Ting-a-ling!<br /></span>
<span class="i6"> Then a scream of the whistle.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Sob! Sob! Sob! Sob!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Heaves slowly the breast of the iron-sinewed giant;<br /></span>
<span class="i6">And the swift paddles fling,<br /></span>
<span class="i6"> Like the down of a thistle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">White foam from their blades, while the waters defiant<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Groan under their merciless tread; and the throb<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of the heart grows exultingly faster;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Now a race with a tug, and then it is past her—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glides under the bow of a stately Cunarder—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The steel-lungèd giant breathing harder and harder<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While nearing the wharves of the City of Vanity<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To roll from its shoulders the load of humanity.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And up near the bow, with arms crossed on the railing,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The bold wind with kisses her fair cheeks assailing<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And tossing her hair from her brow, stands sweet Jennie,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who hopes on the way to the school to meet Bennie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_051" id="page_051"></a>{51}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And what he will say she is anticipating—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her heart full of pleasure, her blue eyes dilating;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And what will she say? Ah, now she is blushing.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">There he stands on the pier! How the people are crushing!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While out from the dock the churned waters are rushing.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the song of the wheels is, “I love him—I love him!”<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Then the pilot above<br /></span>
<span class="i6"> Signals “Clang! Ting-a-ling!”<br /></span>
<span class="i6"> And the slowing wheels sing,<br /></span>
<span class="i6">“Oh, my love—love—love!”<br /></span>
<span class="i8">Clang!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_052" id="page_052"></a>{52}</span></p>
<h3><a name="BRAMBLE_BRAE_IN_OCTOBER" id="BRAMBLE_BRAE_IN_OCTOBER"></a>BRAMBLE BRAE IN OCTOBER</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">And</span> now the corn has ripened at Bramble Brae,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And all the hosts are marshalled for Autumn’s fray;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The quaint old farm is changing its green for brown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Save where the new wheat lifts itself to the light<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And huddles in rows, like wrinkles in some old gown.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Along the lane the quail are running in fright<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At sound of guns on the upland—the cautious dogs<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are coursing over the fields, and keen-eyed men<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Watch for the whir of wings; the hickory logs<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are falling down in the clearing, while in their pen<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The big swine gloat on the heaped-up trough;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In woods the dead leaves rustle, and red squirrels cough<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And chatter and screech—chasing each other from limb<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To limb, and gather their stores at the roots of trees.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And part of it all is a boy, and the heart of him<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glows with the sumach, and sings with the Autumn breeze.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_053" id="page_053"></a>{53}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Down in the valley the ancient village rests,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drowsing along the curbs of its quaint old street;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">High and peaked are the roofs, and antique crests<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are carved on the gables. Fair maids, discreet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sit on the porches and talk with the passing youth;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For Love goes by, sometimes in homespun clad,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sometimes rich in the wealth of truth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That speaks in the heart and the eyes of the lad.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For none that pass are the eyes of the bonny girl<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Except for him; she sits and waits by a climbing vine,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Reading the verses of some old bard; the pearl<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She seeks is love, and only love is the wine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That colors her cheeks and snaps in her sparkling eyes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the lad is shy, and dreams the livelong day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That love and his lady are proof against all surprise—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">So up on the hillside he longs for the village far away.<br /></span>
<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_054" id="page_054"></a>{54}</span>
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">. . . . . . . . . . . .</span><br />
<span class="i0">Many Autumns have glowed on the hillside there;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Slender saplings have sprung to giant trees;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Gray is his head and furrowed his brow with care—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The heart of the man cries out to the Autumn breeze.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dusk in the valley, and cold light on the hill—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Brown is the sumach, the glory of youth has fled;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drowsing cattle shiver, the night is chill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Memory lives, but all of his hopes are dead.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Years has he wandered over the land and sea;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Friends he has cherished and lost, and women loved;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Always that vision haunted his fancy free—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The dreamer worshipped, but never the vision proved.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Down in the valley the ancient houses sleep,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dotted with lights that break through the evening gloom;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dreams that stirred the face of the waters deep<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Cover their eyes and flee to a welcoming tomb.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_055" id="page_055"></a>{55}</span></p>
<h2><a name="WITH_FLOWERS" id="WITH_FLOWERS"></a>WITH FLOWERS</h2>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_056" id="page_056"></a>{56}</span> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_057" id="page_057"></a>{57}</span> </p>
<h3><a name="ON_A_SPRAY_OF_HEATHER" id="ON_A_SPRAY_OF_HEATHER"></a>ON A SPRAY OF HEATHER</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Far</span> from its native moorland<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Or crest of “wine-red” hill,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At sight or scent of heather<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The hearts of Scotsmen thrill.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though crushed its purple blossoms,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Its tender stems turned brown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">It brings romantic Highlands<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Into prosaic town.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The clans are on the border,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The chiefs are in the fray;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">We’re keen upon their footsteps<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With Walter Scott to-day.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Peat smoke from lowland cottage<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Floats curling up, and turns<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Our dreams toward quiet hearthstones<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And melodies of Burns.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_058" id="page_058"></a>{58}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And last our fancy lingers<br /></span>
<span class="i2">With fond regret and vain<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where sleeps our Tusitala<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Beneath the tropic rain—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Far from the purple heather<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Or gleaming rowan bough,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Alone on mountain summit,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">“Our hearts remember how.”<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="indd3">St. Andrew’s Day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_059" id="page_059"></a>{59}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_HOTHOUSE_VIOLET_SPEAKS" id="THE_HOTHOUSE_VIOLET_SPEAKS"></a>THE HOTHOUSE VIOLET SPEAKS<br /><br />
<small>TO A FAIR WOMAN</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I’ve</span> calmly lived my sunny little life<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Under the crinkling glass, and free from strife;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The sky above and all around is blue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And from this haven now I come to you.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Fair Lady, tell me have I heard aright<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That other flowers do not live so bright?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That in dark forests and by noisy streams<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The pale wood violet sheds its purple beams?<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">While we are merry in this fireside glow<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My humble cousin shivers in the snow;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And yet a cricket whispered once to me<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That <i>I</i> the captive was—my cousin, free!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_060" id="page_060"></a>{60}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Sometimes I’ve dreamed the cricket told me true;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’ve longed for freedom and the pleasing view<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of moss-grown hummocks and great whispering trees,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With gold-winged songsters humming in the breeze.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The dream is over—I have lived my day<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Nourished in sun with other violets gay;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And now I’m borne afar to Paradise,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To find my haven in your gentle eyes.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If I may touch your lips I’ll die content<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Without one glimpse of freedom or days spent<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In woodland dells; oh, murmur, while I fade,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Your own sweet mem’ries of the forest glade!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Come, tell me quickly, for my brief hours pass;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What! <i>You too captive in a house of glass?</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_061" id="page_061"></a>{61}</span></p>
<h3><a name="A_SONG" id="A_SONG"></a>A SONG<br /><br />
<small>WITH A RED ROSE ON HER BIRTHDAY</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><i>What the Rose thought:</i><br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, to be one-and-twenty!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I am a rose that must bloom for a day;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">My life is like color and perfume in May;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-night I shall fade in her beautiful hair,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And touch with my petals her proud neck and fair.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, to be one-and-twenty!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><i>What She sang, exultingly:</i><br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, to be one-and-twenty!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To feel that the glorious days of my youth<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are only the promise of hope, love, and truth—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That all joyful things in my bright future gleam,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And I am to <i>live</i> them and find out my dream.<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, to be one-and-twenty!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_062" id="page_062"></a>{62}</span><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><i>What He wrote, sadly:</i><br /></span>
<span class="i4">Oh, to be one-and-twenty!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To dream that the great world is still all my own,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And cherish again the ideals that have flown;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To follow them, hiding with cunning and art,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And find them all sleeping within her warm heart,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">Her heart that is one-and-twenty!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_063" id="page_063"></a>{63}</span></p>
<h3><a name="WHAT_THE_FLOWERS_SAID" id="WHAT_THE_FLOWERS_SAID"></a>WHAT THE FLOWERS SAID</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Here</span> are roses, red and white,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Each to speak what I would write;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For, when in your quiet room<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You may smell their sweet perfume,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall whisper through these flowers<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Fancy’s thoughts for evening hours.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then, when in the crowded street<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You and I may chance to meet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’ll discover in your eyes<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What you’ve half expressed in sighs;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For if in your dusky hair<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One red rose you deign to wear<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I shall say, “I know that she<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Wears it for her love of me.”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_064" id="page_064"></a>{64}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">But if on your gentle breast<br /></span>
<span class="i0">One white rose may dare to rest,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then in rapture I’ll declare,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">“That’s my heart a-resting there.”<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But if neither red nor white<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May your hair or gown bedight,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Still with confidence I’ll say,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">“That is lovely woman’s way—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What of life is largest part<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Hides she deepest in her heart!”<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_065" id="page_065"></a>{65}</span><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<h3><a name="DIANAS_VALENTINE" id="DIANAS_VALENTINE"></a>DIANA’S VALENTINE<br /><br />
<small>WITH A BUNCH OF VIOLETS</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><i>Good Saint Valentine, I pray,</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>While around this town you stray,</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>You will keep your eyes alert</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>For a maid who loves to flirt.</i><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">If among the hurrying crowd—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beauties fair and beauties proud—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You should see one like a queen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Eyes of blue, with golden sheen<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In her hair that’s flecked with brown,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And a grace about her gown,<br /></span>
<span class="i2"><i>That’s Diana!</i><br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i10">Catch her eye<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As she’s gayly tripping by;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Say you know a sorry wight,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Slow of speech and slow to write,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_066" id="page_066"></a>{66}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who would tell her through these flowers<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That her eyes are bright as stars<br /></span>
<span class="i0">In the blue; that her speech<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Haunts his mem’ry (out of reach<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like their perfume faint but fine);<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That her laugh is like rare wine.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As you leave her touch her lips;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Say that men are like old ships,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Easy towed, but hard to steer;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then just whisper in her ear,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">“Lovers change, but friends are true<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Like these violets.” Then, “Adieu.”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><i>This, Saint Valentine, I pray,</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>On the morning of that day</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>When you keep your eyes alert</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0"><i>For all maids who love to flirt.</i><br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="indd3"><span class="smcap">Arcady</span>, February fourteenth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_067" id="page_067"></a>{67}</span></p>
<h3><a name="WITH_SOME_BIRTHDAY_ROSES" id="WITH_SOME_BIRTHDAY_ROSES"></a>WITH SOME BIRTHDAY ROSES</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">If</span> I were not a speechless flower<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’d like to talk with you an hour<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And whisper many pretty things<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That thinking of your birthday brings.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">(For flowers can dream of happiness<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While you their velvet petals press!)<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But I can’t talk—I know a man<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who often vainly thinks he can,<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And what he wanted me to do<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Was simply to look fair to you<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And wish you joy—and then surprise<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The gentle look in your dear eyes.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_069" id="page_069"></a>{69}</span> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_068" id="page_068"></a>{68}</span> </p>
<h2><a name="WRITTEN_IN_BOOKS" id="WRITTEN_IN_BOOKS"></a>WRITTEN IN BOOKS</h2>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_070" id="page_070"></a>{70}</span> </p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_071" id="page_071"></a>{71}</span> </p>
<h3><a name="IN_A_VOLUME_OF_HERRICK" id="IN_A_VOLUME_OF_HERRICK"></a>IN A VOLUME OF HERRICK</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Dear</span> old worldling gone astray,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You would rather sing than pray;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">While you wore the preacher’s gown<br /></span>
<span class="i0">How you longed for London Town!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When your head ached, then, alack!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You, repentant, gave up sack;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Old and worn you ruthlessly<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bade farewell to poesy;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Full, you never cared for food,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sated, you were always good.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Julia’s beauties you rehearse,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sing her charms in wanton verse,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But to make poor Julia thine<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not one pleasure you’d resign.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Flattering, you tried to please;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Generous, you loved your ease!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_072" id="page_072"></a>{72}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">Dear old Herrick, you’re a Man<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Built upon the human plan;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To the world your fame belongs<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For the beauty of your songs—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Glorious poet—not a saint—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Lyric splendor without taint!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_073" id="page_073"></a>{73}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_SHAKESPEARES_SONNETS" id="IN_SHAKESPEARES_SONNETS"></a>IN “SHAKESPEARE’S SONNETS”</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> Sonnets—bound by Rivière<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And newly illustrated!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As though the words that Shakespeare wrote<br /></span>
<span class="i2">By outward dress are rated!<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">The soul—the fine, immortal part<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That lives without the binding,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Is something from the poet’s heart;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">’Tis here—and worth the finding.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_074" id="page_074"></a>{74}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_SONNETS_FROM_THE_PORTUGUESE" id="IN_SONNETS_FROM_THE_PORTUGUESE"></a>IN “SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE”</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">In</span> this book a woman wrote her heart—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Etching there the image of a Man.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Faithful woman! But the years depart,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And love is dust, and life a broken span!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_075" id="page_075"></a>{75}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_GEORGE_MEREDITHS_POEMS" id="IN_GEORGE_MEREDITHS_POEMS"></a>IN GEORGE MEREDITH’S POEMS</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i3">Here is a forest tangle—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Rank weeds, luxuriant ferns, and giant trees,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">All in a hoarse-voiced wrangle,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">With creaking branches swaying in the breeze.<br /></span>
<span class="i3">But if you care to listen,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Above the noise you’ll hear the piping of a bird,<br /></span>
<span class="i3">Gay feathers in the tree-tops glisten,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And over all the sweetest music ever heard.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_076" id="page_076"></a>{76}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_THE_KINGS_LYRICS" id="IN_THE_KINGS_LYRICS"></a>IN “THE KING’S LYRICS”</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Behold</span> “The Lyrics of the King”!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As though a crown on those who sing<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Could make their music sweeter!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To-day we’ll choose the better part—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The gentle music of the heart<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That masters rhyme and metre.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_077" id="page_077"></a>{77}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_SONG_OF_TEMBINOKA_KING_OF_APEMAMA" id="THE_SONG_OF_TEMBINOKA_KING_OF_APEMAMA"></a>THE SONG OF TEMBINOKA, KING OF APEMAMA<br /><br />
<small>TO ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Sing</span>, my warriors, sing! men of the sharklike race!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sing of the poet who came and greeted us face to face.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">He from the cold, gray North, I, in these tropic isles,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Meet as brothers and bards, with eloquent songs and smiles—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Meet as brothers, though singing words that are strange and proud.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Pale and wan is his face, while mine is a thunder-cloud;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the heart of a man is hidden by neither language nor skin—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To love as a man and a brother maketh the whole world kin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_078" id="page_078"></a>{78}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The tales that he tells are of heroes who fought like braves to the death—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Bone of our bone are these heroes, the very breath of our breath!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then sing, my warriors, sing! men of the sharklike race!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sing of the poet who came and greeted us face to face!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="indd3">From <i>Overheard in Arcady</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_079" id="page_079"></a>{79}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_THE_MANNER_OF_KIPLING" id="IN_THE_MANNER_OF_KIPLING"></a>IN THE MANNER OF KIPLING</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="iq">“Show me the face of Truth,” the Sahib said—<br /></span>
<span class="iq">“Show me its beauty, before I’m dead!”<br /></span>
<span class="iq">“Look!” said the priest, “with unflinching eyes;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">This is the World, and not Paradise.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Look! It is wicked, and cruel, and strong, and wise!”<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="indd3">From <i>Overheard in Arcady</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_080" id="page_080"></a>{80}</span></p>
<h3><a name="FOR_A_NOVEL_OF_HALL_CAINES" id="FOR_A_NOVEL_OF_HALL_CAINES"></a>FOR A NOVEL OF HALL CAINE’S<br /><br />
<small>AFTER KIPLING</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">He</span> sits in a sea-green grotto with a bucket of lurid paint,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And draws the Thing as it isn’t for the God of Things as they ain’t!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_081" id="page_081"></a>{81}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_HELBECK_OF_BANNISDALE" id="IN_HELBECK_OF_BANNISDALE"></a>IN “HELBECK OF BANNISDALE”</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> foolish story of a man and maid<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Who loved each other but were dire afraid<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To follow where their true hearts surely led<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And, risking all things, bravely to be wed.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">What’s in a creed to keep two souls apart?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The universal solvent is the heart!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_082" id="page_082"></a>{82}</span></p>
<h3><a name="A_CHRISTMAS_GREETING" id="A_CHRISTMAS_GREETING"></a>A CHRISTMAS GREETING</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Good</span> luck, good cheer, throughout the year!<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A bright fire on the hearthstone burning;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A gleam of rose at evening’s close<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When, wearied, you are homeward turning!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">By ingle-nook a soothing book—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A few old friends in Mem’ry’s castle;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A bit of rhyme at Christmas-time<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To wish you fortune at your wassail!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_083" id="page_083"></a>{83}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_NICHOLSONS_ALMANAC_OF_SPORTS" id="IN_NICHOLSONS_ALMANAC_OF_SPORTS"></a>IN NICHOLSON’S “ALMANAC OF SPORTS”<br /><br />
<small>(WITH VERSES BY KIPLING)</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">In</span> all your Calendar of Sports<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Why, Rudyard, do you slight the wheel?<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Were you, then, never out of sorts<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Until you felt the vibrant steel<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Skim over miles of level track?<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For youth, with all its hope and cheer,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">When we’re a-wheel comes rolling back—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And it is Summer all the year!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_084" id="page_084"></a>{84}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_NICHOLSONS_CITY_TYPES" id="IN_NICHOLSONS_CITY_TYPES"></a>IN NICHOLSON’S “CITY TYPES”</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> City’s roar is rising from the street;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The old, bedraggled “types” are shuffling through the strife;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">They plod and push, and elbow as they meet,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And glare and grin, and sadly call it “life.”<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">For us the fireside hearth is all aglow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And those we love make up the life we know.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_085" id="page_085"></a>{85}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_THE_GOLDEN_TREASURY" id="IN_THE_GOLDEN_TREASURY"></a>IN “THE GOLDEN TREASURY”</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> year is old, the way is far;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I catch your image like a star<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That’s mirrored in a crystal brook;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For love of you I send a book!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_086" id="page_086"></a>{86}</span></p>
<h3><a name="A_VALENTINE" id="A_VALENTINE"></a>A VALENTINE</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Though</span> all the streams are white with frost<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And all the fields with snow,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Though earth its greenery has lost,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And biting gales do blow—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Still I’ll recall the summer hours,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The blue skies and the vine—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The hillsides pink with Alpine flowers<br /></span>
<span class="i2">To greet my Valentine!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_087" id="page_087"></a>{87}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_HALLO_MY_FANCY" id="IN_HALLO_MY_FANCY"></a>IN “HALLO, MY FANCY!”<br /><br />
<small>(BY CHARLES HENRY LÜDERS AND S. D. S., JR.)</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">“Hallo, my Fancy! View Hallo!”<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The nimble game has broken cover<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And skims the valley to and fro;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">By cooling brooks it seems to hover,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then bounds along. “Ho, View Hallo!”<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The huntsmen cry from brake to loch;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The chase grows ardent—“View Hallo!”<br /></span>
<span class="i2">From quiet shelter echoes, <i>Droch</i>.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_088" id="page_088"></a>{88}</span></p>
<h3><a name="THE_BOOK_SPEAKS" id="THE_BOOK_SPEAKS"></a>THE BOOK SPEAKS<br /><br />
<small>TO EUGENE FIELD</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I’m</span> keeping jolly comp’ny<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In a room that’s full of books;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’m cheek by jowl with Horace<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And a lot of ancient crooks.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But the boys I like to play with,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">When the boss takes off his coat,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are the wild and woolly heroes<br /></span>
<span class="i2">From Casey’s tabble-dote.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And when the lamp is lighted<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And cosey hours ensue,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I talk with All-Aloney<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And the little Boy in Blue.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But when the man that owns the books<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Throws one kind glance at <i>me</i><br /></span>
<span class="i0">I sing just like the Dinkey<br /></span>
<span class="i2">In the Amfelula Tree.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_089" id="page_089"></a>{89}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_HERFORDS_VERSES" id="IN_HERFORDS_VERSES"></a>IN HERFORD’S VERSES</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To</span> weep with those who weep is human;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">We give our praises to the man of grit,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And honor with our trust the true man;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Let’s laugh a little with a man of wit!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_090" id="page_090"></a>{90}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_A_BOOK_OF_GIBSONS_DRAWINGS" id="IN_A_BOOK_OF_GIBSONS_DRAWINGS"></a>IN A BOOK OF GIBSON’S DRAWINGS</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">You</span> may turn these pages over,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Looking for the priceless pearl;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You may search from back to cover<br /></span>
<span class="i2">For the finest Gibson girl.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You can save yourself the trouble—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">It’s no earthly use to look:<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The charming girl who takes the medal<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Is a-holding of the book.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_091" id="page_091"></a>{91}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_A_VOLUME_OF_MISS_GUINEYS_POEMS" id="IN_A_VOLUME_OF_MISS_GUINEYS_POEMS"></a>IN A VOLUME OF MISS GUINEY’S POEMS</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">A <span class="smcap">maker</span> of smooth verse and facile rhymes,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And lover of quaint legends from old times;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A joyous singer in New England bleak—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her heart is Irish and her mind is Greek.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_092" id="page_092"></a>{92}</span></p>
<h3><a name="IN_BARBARA_FRIETCHIE_A_PLAY" id="IN_BARBARA_FRIETCHIE_A_PLAY"></a>IN “BARBARA FRIETCHIE—A PLAY”<br /><br />
<small>TO J. M.</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">We</span> met her first in Arcady,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where visions fair are apt to be,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Roaming beneath the arching trees—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Her laughter cheering up the breeze;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Sometimes as gay as <i>Colinette</i>,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then fond and sad as <i>Juliet</i>.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And when we’d had enough of anguish<br /></span>
<span class="i0">She’d make us laugh as <i>Lydia Languish</i>.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">No mask or mood was twice the same—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Yet one fair face behind each name.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As that bright vixen of the mind,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fascinating <i>Rosalīnd</i>—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">As <i>Imogen</i> or <i>Viola</i>,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Or, best of all, sweet <i>Barbara</i>—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Always the same alluring grace<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And wit that sparkles in her face!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_093" id="page_093"></a>{93}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">The road to Arcady is far<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And sometimes lonely for a star—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But all the phantoms of the air<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And poets’ dreams that wander there<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Would miss the welcome we extend,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Not to her Art—just to a friend!<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_094" id="page_094"></a>{94}</span></p>
<h3><a name="TO_C_H_M_AND_H_H_M" id="TO_C_H_M_AND_H_H_M"></a>TO C. H. M. AND H. H. M.</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Here</span> is the story—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">I haven’t half told it;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The fun and the glory,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">A volume can’t hold it.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">But this is a spray,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Withered leaves and pressed flowers,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">From a faded bouquet<br /></span>
<span class="i2">That was plucked in gay hours,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Within sound of the waves<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Of the gentle Pacific,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where Nature enslaves<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And the days beatific<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Are sandalled with gold<br /></span>
<span class="i4">And wear gems on their fingers.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">All the tale is not told<br /></span>
<span class="i2">Which slow Fancy weaves,<br /></span>
<span class="i4">But a faint odor lingers<br /></span>
<span class="i2">About these dry leaves<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_095" id="page_095"></a>{95}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i4">That may bring recollection<br /></span>
<span class="i6">Of prairie and loch<br /></span>
<span class="i4">With a hint of affection<br /></span>
<span class="i8">From<br /></span>
<span class="i10">Yours ever,<br /></span>
<span class="i12"><span class="smcap">Droch</span>.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="indd3">Dedication of <i>The Monterey Wedding</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_096" id="page_096"></a>{96}</span></p>
<h3><a name="TO_MY_MOTHER" id="TO_MY_MOTHER"></a>TO MY MOTHER</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Long</span> years you’ve kept the door ajar<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To greet me, coming from afar;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Long years in my accustomed place<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’ve read my welcome in your face,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And felt the sunlight of your love<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Drive back the years and gently move<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The telltale shadow ’round to youth.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">You’ve found the very spring, in truth,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That baffles time—the kindling joy<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That keeps me in your heart a boy.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And now I send an unknown guest<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To bide with you and snugly rest<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Beside the old home’s ingle-nook.—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">For love of me you’ll love my book.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p class="indd3">Dedication of <i>Overheard in Arcady</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_097" id="page_097"></a>{97}</span></p>
<h3><a name="A_BOOKS_SOLILOQUY" id="A_BOOKS_SOLILOQUY"></a>A BOOK’S SOLILOQUY</h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">My</span> lady’s room is full of books<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And easy-chairs and curtained nooks,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And dainty tea-things on a table,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And poetry, and tale, and fable,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And on the hearth a crackling fire<br /></span>
<span class="i0">That welcome gives, and when you tire<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Of pleasant talk you still may find<br /></span>
<span class="i0">A tempting pasture where the mind<br /></span>
<span class="i0">May browse awhile, and read the pages<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Which poets wrote, or fools, or sages.<br /></span>
</div><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">And here I come to ask a place<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Among these worthies, face to face!<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To be allowed on some low shelf<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To rest and dream, and pride myself<br /></span>
<span class="i0">On being in such company—<br /></span>
<span class="i0">To watch fair women drinking tea;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_098" id="page_098"></a>{98}</span><br /></span>
<span class="i0">And if, perchance, on some lone day,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The gentle mistress looks my way<br /></span>
<span class="i0">And softly says, “Now I shall see<br /></span>
<span class="i0">What’s going on in Arcady!”<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Then I’ll rejoice that I’m a book<br /></span>
<span class="i0">At which my lady deigns to look.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_099" id="page_099"></a>{99}</span></p>
<h3><a name="ENVOY" id="ENVOY"></a>ENVOY<br /><br />
<small>THE SHEPHERD TO HIS FLOCK</small></h3>
<div class="poetry">
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The</span> sun is warm upon the ridges now;<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The way was rough and steep;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">I’ll seek the shelter of a leafy bough<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And watch my grazing sheep.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The smoke is rising from the valley there,<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The hum of wheels and trade;<br /></span>
<span class="i0">The stress of life is in the whirling air<br /></span>
<span class="i2">While I pipe in the shade.<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Where work is fierce amid the striving throng<br /></span>
<span class="i2">And music’s voice is mute,<br /></span>
<span class="i0">Some one may catch the echo of a song—<br /></span>
<span class="i2">The faint note of a lute.<br /></span>
</div></div>
</div>
<hr class="full" />
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 55052 ***</div>
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