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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..337e765 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #64148 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64148) diff --git a/old/64148-0.txt b/old/64148-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 56023e2..0000000 --- a/old/64148-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3737 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Saga of the oak, and other poems, by William -H. Venable - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Saga of the oak, and other poems - -Author: William H. Venable - -Release Date: December 27, 2020 [eBook #64148] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The Internet - Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAGA OF THE OAK, AND OTHER -POEMS *** - - [Illustration: _W. H. Venable._] - - - - - Saga of the Oak - AND OTHER POEMS - - BY - WILLIAM H. VENABLE - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - Dodd, Mead & Company - 1904 - - - Copyright, 1884, 1893, by W. H. VENABLE - Copyright, 1904, by DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - - Published April, 1904 - - BURR PRINTING HOUSE - NEW YORK - - - - - _CONTENTS_ - - - PAGE - -SAGA OF THE OAK 1 - -A DIAMOND 8 - -MY CATBIRD 9 - -THE TUNES DAN HARRISON USED TO PLAY 12 - -FAIRYLAND 14 - -SUMMER LOVE 17 - -CLOVER HILL 19 - -THE WEDDING DEFERRED 21 - -TO THE LITTLE MIAMI RIVER 23 - -IMMORTAL BIRD SONG 25 - -HINCHMAN’S MILL 27 - -VICTOR 30 - -THE LAST FLIGHT 33 - -A GENTLE MAN 36 - -INVIOLATE 38 - -FAITH 40 - -PLATO 41 - -DANTE 42 - -WAGNER’S KAISER MARCH 43 - -DEFOE IN THE PILLORY 44 - -WE THE PEOPLE 46 - -EIGHTY-SEVEN 49 - -THE FOUNDERS OF OHIO 50 - -THE FOREST SONG 52 - -A BALLAD OF OLD KENTUCKY 54 - -JOHN FILSON 57 - -JOHNNY APPLESEED 62 - -WENDING WESTWARD 68 - -THE TEACHER’S DREAM 71 - -BY THEIR FRUITS 75 - -PESTALOZZI 76 - -“THERE IS NO CASTE IN BLOOD” 80 - -VIVA LA GUERRA 82 - -BATTLE CRY 84 - -EL EMPLAZADO 86 - -NATIONAL SONG 88 - -THE RIGHT OF MIGHT 90 - -JAMES E. MURDOCH 92 - -THE CONCORD SEER 95 - -THE POET OF CLOVERNOOK 97 - -THE GREENFIELD WIZARD 99 - -WILLIAM BAIRD OF RIDGEVILLE 100 - -LET’S SHAKE 104 - -A WELCOME TO BOZ 107 - -THE BOOK AUCTION 109 - -A GIFT ACKNOWLEDGED 111 - -THE OLD HOMESTEAD 113 - -JENNIE MOORE 115 - -ASHES 116 - -POSY 117 - -A SNOW BIRD 119 - -THE UPSET 121 - -THE SCHOOL GIRL 122 - -THE READERS 125 - -WAG 126 - -DONATELLO 129 - -GABRIEL OF SCHWARTZENWALD 131 - -COFFEA ARABICA 137 - -AN INDIA SHAWL 140 - -APOLOGY 141 - -UNRECONCILED 144 - -ANNIVERSARY 146 - -AMAUROTE 148 - - - - - _SAGA OF THE OAK_ - - - - - SAGA OF THE OAK. - - - Hoarsely to the midnight moon - Voiced the oak his rugged rune: - “Harken, sibyl Moon, to me; - Hear the saga of the Tree. - - “Thou, O queen of splendor, must - Pale and crumble back to dust; - Through slow eons diest thou,-- - Doomsday craves my vitals now. - - “I am scion of a line - Old, imperial, divine; - Earth produced my ancestor - Ere great Odin was, or Thor. - - “From the hursts of holy oak - Fateful gods of Asgard spoke; - In the consecrated shade - Bard and Druid sang and prayed. - - “Fostered in an oaken womb - Slept Trifingus, sword of doom; - Therewith woaded Caratak - Drave the steel-sarked Roman back. - - “Where, profaned by legioned foes, - In the shuddering forest rose - Mona’s altars flaming rud, - Britain drowned her woe in blood. - - “Then the dread decree of Norn - Sounded in the groves forlorn; - Vikings swooping from the North - Harried every scaur and forth. - - “Forests fell with crash and roar, - Masted galiots spurned the shore, - Dragon-breasted,--swum the meer, - Daring danger, scouting fear. - - “Hengist’s brood and Horsa’s kin, - Seed of Garmund, sons of Finn, - Dane and Saxon sail and sweep - Battling o’er the wrathful deep; - - “Hearts of oak! their valor gave - Right of might to rule the wave, - Gave to Nelson’s ocean war - Copenhagen, Trafalgar! - - “Bray of trumpet! roll of drum! - When shall Balder’s kingdom come? - Bitter sap shall when grow sweet - In the acorn at my feet? - - “Centuries do I stand here - Thinking thoughts profound and drear, - Dreaming solemn dreams sublime - Of the mysteries of Time. - - “Roots of mine do feed on graves; - I have eaten bones of braves; - In the ground the learnéd gnomes - Read to me their cryptic tomes. - - “Annals treasured in the air - All the past to me declare; - Every wind of heaven brings - Tribute for me on its wings. - - “Through my silence proud and lone - Whispers waft from the Unknown: - Musing eld hath second ken-- - Moon! the dead shall live again. - - “Sun-scorch have I borne, and pangs - From the gnaw of winter’s fangs; - Fought tornadoes, nor forsook - Roothold when the mountains shook. - - “Oft the zig-zag thunder hath - Struck me with his fiery scath,-- - To my core the havoc sped, - Yet I never bowed my head. - - “I am weary of the years; - Overthrown are all my peers, - Slain by steel or storm or flame,-- - I would perish too--the same. - - “Yet shall I a little space - Linger still in life’s embrace - Ere metempsychosing time - Drag me down to Niflheim. - - “Wherefore shun or summon fate? - Wisest they who sanely wait; - In my fiber nature saith, - Life is good and good is death. - - “Mated birds of procreant Spring - In my branches build and sing; - Grass is green and flowers bloom - Where I spread my golden gloom; - - “Happy children round me play; - Plighted lovers near me stray; - Insects chirping in the night - Thrill me with obscure delight; - - “Circling seasons as they run, - Couriers of the lavish sun, - Dower me with treasure lent - By each potent element; - - “Ministers to me the whole - Zonéd globe from pole to pole; - In my buds and blossoms beat - Pulses from the central heat;-- - - “Everything is part of me, - Firmament and moving sea; - I of all that is am part, - Stone and star and human heart. - - “Primal Cause etern, self-wrought, - Majesty transcending thought, - This my substance and my soul, - Origin, desire, and goal. - - “Through creation’s vasty range - Blows the winter blast of change; - Leaf-like from the Life-Tree whirled - World shall rot on ruined world. - - “Hail, inexorable hour - Fraught with clysmian wrack and stour - Welcome, transmutation’s course - And the cosmic rage of Force. - - “Yond the atomed universe - Now we gather, now disperse,-- - Unto darkling chaos tost, - Back from the chaos--nothing lost. - - “Forth abysmal voids of death - Resurrection issueth:-- - Flaming ether, quickened clod, - Bodying new forms of God. - - “Harken, Moon!--When I am gone, - I, re-born, shall burgeon on; - Out thine ashes shall arise - Other Thou, to ride the skies.” - - Spake no more the hoary oak; - No response the wan moon spoke; - But the poet who had heard - Pondered the Dodonian word. - - - - - A DIAMOND. - - - Upon the breast of senseless earth - This precious sparkling stone, - A jewel of Golconda’s worth, - In sovran beauty shone. - - My lady for a moment bore - The gem upon her brow, - A moment on her bosom wore:-- - ’Tis worth the Orient now. - - - - - MY CATBIRD. - - A CAPRICCIO. - - - Nightingale I never heard, - Nor the skylark, poet’s bird; - But there is an æther-winger - So surpasses every singer, - (Though unknown to lyric fame,) - That at morning, or at nooning, - When I hear his pipe a-tuning, - Down I fling Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth,-- - What are all their songs of birds worth? - All their soaring - Souls’ outpouring? - When my Mimus Carolinensis, - (That’s his Latin name,) - When my warbler wild commences - Song’s hilarious rhapsody, - Just to please himself and me! - Primo Cantante! - Scherzo! Andante! - Piano, pianissimo! - Presto, prestissimo! - Hark! are there nine birds or ninety and nine? - And now a miraculous gurgling gushes - Like nectar from Hebe’s Olympian bottle, - The laughter of tune from a rapturous throttle! - Such melody must be a hermit-thrush’s! - But that other caroler, nearer, - Outrivaling rivalry with clearer - Sweetness incredibly fine! - Is it oriole, redbird, or bluebird, - Or some strange, un-Auduboned new bird? - All one, sir, both this bird and that bird, - The whole flight are all the same catbird! - The whole visible and invisible choir you see - On one lithe twig of yon green tree. - Flitting, feathery Blondel! - Listen to his rondel! - To his lay romantical! - To his sacred canticle! - Hear him lilting, - See him tilting - His saucy head and tail, and fluttering - While uttering - All the difficult operas under the sun - Just for fun; - Or in tipsy revelry, - Or at love devilry, - Or, disdaining his divine gift and art, - Like an inimitable poet - Who captivates the world’s heart - And don’t know it. - Hear him lilt! - See him tilt! - Then suddenly he stops, - Peers about, flirts, hops, - As if looking where he might gather up - The wasted ecstasy just spilt - From the quivering cup - Of his bliss overrun. - Then, as in mockery of all - The tuneful spells that e’er did fall - From vocal pipe, or evermore shall rise, - He snarls, and mews, and flies. - - - - - THE TUNES DAN HARRISON USED TO PLAY. - - - Ofttimes when recollections throng - Serenely back from childhood years, - Awaking thoughts that slumbered long, - Compelling smiles or starting tears, - The music of a violin - Seems through my window floating in,-- - I think I hear from far away - The tunes Dan Harrison used to play. - - Dan Harrison! I see him there - Beside the roaring winter hearth, - Fiddling away all mundane care, - His genial face aglow with mirth; - And when he laid his bow aside, - “Well done! well done!” he cheerly cried; - Well done, well done, indeed were they, - The tunes Dan Harrison used to play. - - I do not know what tunes he played, - I cannot name one melody; - His instrument was never made - In old Cremona, o’er the sea; - Yet from its chords his raptured skill - Drew magic strains my soul to thrill, - Some ah so mournful, some so gay, - The tunes Dan Harrison used to play. - - I have been witness to the art - Of many a master of the bow, - But none have power to charm the heart - Like him I listened long ago; - Love stole on tiptoe through my trance - To welcome dream-eyed young Romance, - Responsive to the passioned sway - Of tunes Dan Harrison used to play. - - Now with the music, as it floats, - Seraphic harping faintly blends; - I catch amid the mingling notes - Familiar voices of old friends; - While choral echoes sweetly fall, - Of yearning love angelical, - And melt, like trembling tears, away, - In tunes Dan Harrison used to play. - - - - - FAIRYLAND. - - - A secret glen engirt by hills serene - Sleeps in rich gloom of summer boscage green; - Its dreamy dells, in solemn twilight hush, - Echo dulce warblings of the hermit-thrush; - Kist by young May, the windflower trembles there, - And frail dicentra breathes the dainty air; - The haunt beseems for elfin revels planned, - And so the children call it Fairyland. - - A silvern rill, loved by the watercress, - Winds purling through this drowsy wilderness, - Suckling the willow, snowy-corymbed haw, - Vain-flaunting redbud, indolent pawpaw, - Suave linden, and gay buckeye brimming free - His nectar cups to lure the drunken bee; - Aloof, in coats of pearl-green armor, stand - Three sycamores, to guard the Fairyland. - - The busy grapevine o’er the coppice weaves - A cunning mesh of interlacing leaves, - Whereon adventurous urchins clamber high, - With giddy shout saluting the blue sky; - Or loll in golden sunshine baptismal, - Inhaling balm of buds ambrosial, - And, by hilarious breezes rocked and fanned, - Through loops of verdure gaze from Fairyland. - - Ere dies on heaven’s breast the morning star, - All unsubstantial, visionary, far, - In opalescent vapor loom the glades, - Dawn-rosy domes, dim grottoes and arcades, - Of yon enchanted dingles of the fay; - Behold! transmuted in the sheen of day, - By aureolar rays of Iris spanned, - A bower of dewdrops, glitters Fairyland! - - When dusk descends, the eerie host delight - As twinkling fireflies to bestar the night; - Then melancholy tree-toads shrill the throat, - And chirring crickets chime an irksome note; - Flits the lean bat the timorous wren to fray; - The muffled screech-owl hurtles on his prey; - For evil wings a gruesome hour command, - Though holy stars keep watch o’er Fairyland. - - All demonkind, or wicked, null, or good, - Lurk in the hollows of the sprightful wood; - There murk fogs drop distillings of the sea; - The weird moon plies her midnight witchery; - Time slumbers there; there Love and Beauty sport; - And Death holds there his grim, fantastic court; - No ghost may blab, no mortal understand - The mystic wonders of our Fairyland. - - - - - SUMMER LOVE. - - - I know ’tis late, but let me stay, - For night is tenderer than day; - Sweet love, dear love, I cannot go, - Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so. - The birds in leafy hiding sleep; - Shrill katydids their vigil keep; - The woodbine breathes a fragrance rare - Upon the dewy languid air; - The fireflies twinkle in the vale, - The river looms in moonshine pale, - And look! a meteor’s dreamy light - Streams mystic down the solemn night! - Ah, life glides swift, like that still fire-- - How soon our throbbing joys expire; - Who can be sure the present kiss - Is not his last? Make all of this. - I know ’tis late, sweet love, I know, - Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so. - Fantastic mist obscurely fills - The hollows of Kentucky hills; - Heardst thou? I heard or fear I heard - Vague twitters of some wakeful bird; - The wingéd hours are swift indeed! - Why makes the jealous morn such speed? - This rose thou wearst may I not take - For passionate remembrance’ sake? - Press with thy lips its crimson heart; - Yes, blushing rose, we must depart; - A rose cannot return a kiss-- - I pay its due with this, and this; - The stars grow faint, they soon will die, - But love faints not nor fails.--Good-bye! - Unhappy joy--delicious pain-- - We part in love, we meet again! - Good-bye!--the morning dawns--I go, - Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so. - - - - - CLOVER HILL. - - - On the brow of Clover Hill - Stands a maiden gazing out - Through the purple twilight still, - Half in rapture, half in doubt; - In the heavens Venus glistens, - While the maiden looks and listens. - - On the brow of Clover Hill - Deeper gloaming shadows fall; - Moans the plaintive whippowill; - Lonesome is the cricket’s call; - In the heavens Venus glistens, - Far the maiden looks and listens. - - On the brow of Clover Hill - Lingering she fondly sighs; - Anxious fears her bosom fill, - Tears bedew her mournful eyes; - In the heavens Venus glistens, - Still the maiden looks and listens. - - Footsteps! hark! On Clover Hill! - Faring nearer and more near! - Hearts ecstatic throb and thrill! - “War is over! He is here!” - In the zenith Venus glistens, - Lovers kiss and Heaven listens. - - - - - THE WEDDING DEFERRED. - - - Complaining flow the waters slow - Along the valley green and low; - The lilies dight in virgin white - Float fragrant in the ardent light, - And to the gossip ripples say, - “It is the Day!--is’t not the Day? - When comes the bridal train this way?” - - Yon amethystine hill-top kist - By lingering enamored mist, - Hears in the sky warm zephyrs sigh - To wooing clouds that dally by; - The wandering whispers seem to say, - “Is’t not the Day?--it is the Day! - Why comes no bridal train this way?” - - Forlorn of mood, by love pursued, - A youth laments in solitude; - The brown dove’s eyes soft sympathize - With him and to her mate she cries, - “What can the glad espousals stay? - It is the Day!--is’t not the Day? - Yet comes no bridal train this way.” - - O laggard moon, arise full soon - And swim to night’s auspicious noon, - The star-sea ride and swiftly glide - From eventide to eventide,-- - Whirl through a month, that I may say - “It _is_ the Day! It _is_ the Day! - Now comes the bridal train this way!” - - - - - TO THE LITTLE MIAMI RIVER. - - - Romantic the rocky and fern-scented regions, - Miami, the grots where thy rambles begin, - By cedars and hemlocks, in evergreen legions, - With silence and twilight seclusion shut in. - - There darkling recesses in miniature mountains - Recall to my fancy the haunts of the gnome; - There fabled Undina might rise from the fountains, - Or sport in the waterfalls’ glistening foam. - - Now laughing in ripples and dancing the sedges, - Now fretting the minnows in eddy and whirl, - Now kissing the pebbles that sprinkle thy edges, - And laving the pearl and the mother-of-pearl; - - Glide, whispering now under sycamore shadow, - Now singing by hamlet and cottage and mill, - Now shimmering onward through flowery meadow, - Now glassing the image of foresty hill. - - The farm boy, as careless he follows the harrow - O’er lowlands which quicken and ripen the maize, - Reads oft in some token of stone,--axe or arrow, - The wars and the loves of unchronicled days. - - Then steals on the air with thy murmuring numbers - A moan of lament for a race and its lore,-- - A sigh for yon chieftain forgotten, who slumbers - Beneath the lone mound on thy emerald shore. - - - - - IMMORTAL BIRDSONG. - - - What though mine ear hath never heard - The wing’d voice of the sky? - Nor listened to the love-lorn bird - Whose plaints in darkness die? - - The poets improvise for me - Lark-notes that never fail, - And make more sweet than sound can be - The song of nightingale. - - From rapt Alastor’s lyric leaves - Joy’s flying carol springs! - On darkling pinion sorrow grieves - When Adonais sings. - - I list the lavrock warbling clear - In birks of bonny Doon; - The bulbul’s swooning voice I hear, - Beneath the Persian moon. - - I hear across the centuries - What Philomela sung, - In Attic groves, to Sophocles, - When Poesie was young. - - - - - HINCHMAN’S MILL. - - - Lonely by Miami stream, - Gray in twilight’s fading beam, - Spectral, desolate and still, - Smitten by the storms of years, - Ah! how changed to me appears - Yonder long-deserted mill. - - While the ruin I behold, - Mossy roof and gable old, - Shadowy mid obscuring trees, - Memory’s vision, quick and true, - Time’s long vista gazing through, - Unseen pictures dimly sees. - - Sees upon the garner floor - Wheat and maize in golden store,-- - Powdery whiteness everywhere,-- - Sees a miller short and stout - Whistling cheerfully about, - Making merry with his care. - - Pleased, he listens to the whirr - Of the swift-revolving burr, - Deeming brief each busy hour; - Like a stream of finest snow, - Sifting to the bin below, - Fall the tiny flakes of flour. - - Once my childish feet were led - Down some furtive way of dread, - Through yon broken floor to peer, - Where the fearful waters drift - In a current dark and swift, - Flying from the angry weir. - - Once, with timid step and soft, - Stealthily I climbed aloft, - Up and up the highest stair;-- - Iron cogs were rumbling round, - Every vague and awful sound - Mocked and mumbled at me there. - - Wonder if those wheels remain, - And would frighten me again? - Wonder if the miller’s dead? - Wonder if his ghost at night - Haunts the stairs, a phantom white? - Walks the loft with hollow tread? - - Spectral, desolate and still, - Stands the solitary mill, - Close beside the gliding stream: - Darkness overtakes the sun, - Suddenly the day is done, - And of Time and Death I dream. - - - - - VICTOR. - - - When June exhaled her rose-sweet breath - And earth in sunshine smiled, - Untimely came intrusive Death - And stole away our child. - - As some fast-fading star declines, - Dissolving in the sky; - As wastes the dewdrop while it shines, - So did our darling die. - - Ah, fairer than the violet frail, - Frost-slain on April’s breast, - And purer than the lily pale, - The babe’s unbreathing rest. - - Our eyes grew numb with tearless woe, - Prayer swooned upon the tongue, - As to his lips of smiling snow - Our anguished kisses clung. - - O hapless Victor, name of pride! - Dear hands, poor little feet! - No thorn ye found, no path ye tried;-- - O envious winding sheet! - - Most mournful change and utter loss! - Return, my child, return! - Or, angels, guide my faith across - The grave his state to learn. - - Oh, grant me from the vast unknown - Some breath of solacing! - The spirit! whither has it flown - On timorous alien wing? - - All silent is the cruel sky; - The saints no pity lend; - My lamentation and my cry - To heedless void ascend. - - My heart, my weeping, bleeding heart - Wails at the door of fate, - And faints in darkness and apart, - Bereft and desolate. - - I only find, wher’er I grope, - A cradle and a pall; - Find, at the gloomy verge of hope, - A grave--and that is all. - - An empty cradle and a lone - Small mound of chilly sod, - O’er which I bow and vainly moan - To move the heart of God. - - - - - THE LAST FLIGHT. - - - Lo, in my path - A frozen songbird lies, - A victim of the sky’s - Blind, elemental wrath. - - The stolid year - Shall not in me repress - The impulsive tenderness - That moves a pitying tear. - - Life’s flutter o’er, - Thy quavering heart, now still, - No more shall throb and thrill, - Shall love and fear no more. - - For thee in vain - Shall Spring array the woods, - In nest-safe neighborhoods:-- - Thou canst not build again. - - Did instinct fail - When, from the Boreal rack, - Athwart thy migrant track - Hurtled the ruthless gale? - - A cruel nest - The feather-mocking snows! - And ah, what gasping throes - Assailed thy dying breast! - - Wing-spent, alone, - Adrift from every mate, - Flung down by baffling fate, - Thou froze to the Unknown. - - How saith the Word? - Does He who governs all - Take notice of the fall - Forlorn, of thee, poor bird? - - And is it so - His awful love divine - Provides for me and mine - When frore the tempests blow? - - Mute traveler, say, - How fare we when we die, - And whither do we fly - Along the unseen way? - - Vain questionings - In death’s bleak eddy whirled! - What heeds the other world - My broken, bleeding wings? - - Is life no more? - Is death the final doom? - Or shall the soul replume - Her flight and sing and soar? - - Yea, surely, He - Who melts my love to tears - For this dead songster, hears - And pities mine and me. - - His love must know - Our sorrow, and will lift - Our numbed lives from the drift - Of death’s all-hushing snow. - - - - - A GENTLE MAN. - - - I knew a gentle Man;-- - Alas! his soul has flown; - Now that his tender heart is still, - Pale anguish haunts my own. - His eye, in pity’s tear, - Would often saintly swim; - He did to others as he would - That they should do to him. - - He suffered many things,-- - Renounced, forgave, forbore; - And sorrow’s crown of thorny stings, - Like Christ, he meekly wore; - At rural toils he strove; - In beauty, joy he sought; - His solace was in children’s words - And wise men’s pondered thought. - - He was both meek and brave, - Not haughty, and yet proud; - He daily died his soul to save, - And ne’er to Mammon bowed. - E’en as a little child - He entered Heaven’s Gate; - I caught his parting smile, which said, - “Be reconciled, and wait.” - - - - - INVIOLATE. - - - We took a walk in Winter woods, - My little lad and I,-- - The hills and hollows all were pearl, - And sapphire all the sky. - - Before guerilla winds we saw - The skurrying drift retreat; - We thought of budded roots that lay - Asleep beneath our feet. - - We spoke of how, last year, in May, - One sunny bank we found, - Where wind-flowers stood in fairy crowds, - To charm the gladdened ground. - - A subtle feeling checked the boy,-- - His small hand held me back, - With mute appeal that we should tread - The wood-path’s beaten track. - - “My child, ’tis pleasanter to break - New pathways as we go.” - He said, “I do not like to spoil - The beauty of the snow.” - - - - - FAITH. - - - The spreading circle of the known - That Science strives to bound with laws - Is but a glowing sparkle thrown - From God, the radiant central cause. - - His mystery is vaster far - Than knowledge is or e’er can be; - The wheel of Evolution’s car - Rolls onward through eternity. - - A stilly voice forever sounds - The lapses of our doubt between: - “Seek not to give Religion bounds, - Nor limit Faith by forces seen.” - - - - - PLATO. - - - Athenian prophet of the soaring mind! - What new lamp burns so brightly as his old? - He changed Philosophy from dross to gold - By poet’s alchemy; and he combined - Egypt and Ind and the Hellenic States - With all the knowledge Cadmus’ letters hold, - In Logic’s crucible to be refined; - He opened Speculation’s splendid gates - To Western ways where Science after trod; - A reign of sweeter Ethics he foretold, - Renouncing Zeus for a diviner God; - And, unaffrighted by the awful Fates, - In starry sandals of Religion shod, - From pagan darkness Plato led mankind. - - - - - DANTE. - - AFTER READING “PARADISO.” - - - His sacred Muse, on soaring rapture’s wings, - Aspired the radiant empyrean high, - And bore to earth the splendor of the sky! - Durante’s spirit to my senses brings - The excessive beauty of transcendent things - That thrill imagination’s ear and eye; - With joy I hear the blissful carolings - Of angel hosts in robes of dazzling white; - My soul partakes the poet’s ecstasy! - Through all my meditation and my prayer - Steals reminiscence of the Stream of Light, - And of the Rose unutterably fair,-- - And O! the threefold glory of The One, - The Love that moves the circling stars and sun! - - - - - WAGNER’S KAISER MARCH. - - TO THEODORE THOMAS. - - - What diapasons from the hush profound - Thy magic wand, O Master, summons forth - To laud imperial Kaiser, robed and crowned! - Hail! multitudinous music of the North! - Titanic Wagner’s soul informs the sound! - Ho! instruments triumphant, trump and drum, - And cymbal clanging where the troopers come! - The Gothic valor now is set to score; - I hear the tramp of Saxon thought unbound, - The victor’s cry, disdaining death or wound,-- - I hear the saber ring, the cannon roar! - This is the throbbing tune for Halfred’s rhyme, - The symphony of glorious war sublime, - Valhalla’s martial joy forevermore! - - - - - DEFOE IN THE PILLORY. - - - On to the Pillory, ho! - To punish bold Daniel Defoe! - Come on to the place - Of shame and disgrace! - Bring rose-garlands sweet - To cast at his feet! - Fill glasses! Fill, ho! - Here’s to Daniel Defoe! - - On to the Pillory, ho! - To punish bold Daniel Defoe! - His fate he has earned, - His book we have burned, - That its soul may fly forth, - East, west, south and north! - Blow, trumpeter, blow! - Here’s to Daniel Defoe! - - On to the Pillory, ho! - To punish bold Daniel Defoe! - Shout him greeting full loud! - Sing his praise to the crowd! - The sentries may swear, - But what do we care? - More roses we’ll throw! - Here’s to Daniel Defoe! - - On to the Pillory, ho! - To punish rogue Daniel Defoe! - Pelt him, maidens and men! - For he thinks with a pen, - And his thought is too free! - God bless him! See! See! - Fill glasses! Fill, ho! - Here’s to Daniel Defoe! - - - - - WE THE PEOPLE. - - - We the People, not the Crown, - Not the surplice nor the brand, - Noble’s crest nor schoolman’s gown, - Burse nor rostrum, grange nor town,-- - We the People rule our land. - - We the People, not the Few, - High nor low nor middle class, - High and low and middle too, - Freemen, he and I and you, - We the multitude, the mass. - - Dumb we plodded feudal years, - Goaded by the lash of scorn; - Groaning, wept a sea of tears; - Lo! at last our day appears, - Dawn of the millennial morn! - - Asia deemed our woe decreed, - Brahm nor Buddha heard our cry, - Europe heard with sullen heed, - Prince and Pontiff mocked our need, - Making Christ a bitter lie. - - Demagogue nor Demigod - Shall again control the World; - _Man_ awoke! disdained the rod, - Spurned the despot whip and prod, - To the dust his rider hurled. - - Man has come unto his own; - Broken are his bands and bars; - Faith’s futurity foreknown - Domes a sky of promise sown - Thick with happy-omened stars. - - Zealous, not iconoclast, - We would spare the ancient true; - Life in death is rooted fast; - And the fruitage of the Past - Is the Passing,--is the New. - - Azure blood and haughty crest, - Blazon of heraldic scroll, - Coin in coffer, star on breast,-- - These are good, but better, best, - Is the rank, the wealth, of soul. - - Earth grows better growing old, - Still by happier races trod; - Plato’s iron men are gold; - Large humanities unfold; - Evolution’s law is--God. - - We the People, We the State, - Subject, Sovereign, both in one, - Trust in Highest Potentate. - Trust, O World, in Us and wait. - God has willed our will be done. - - - - - EIGHTY-SEVEN. - - - As a mighty heart in a giant’s breast - With rhythmic beat - Sends marching from brain to feet - The crimson vigor of creative blood, - So, in the bosom of the brawny West, - So, in the stalwart breast of the Nation, - Throbs the Great Ordinance,--a heart, - A vital and organic part, - Propelling by its strong pulsation - The unremitting stream and flood - Of wholesome influences that give - Unto the body politic - The elements and virtues quick - Whereby Republics live. - - - - - THE FOUNDERS OF OHIO. - - APRIL, 1888. - - - The footsteps of a hundred years - Have echoed, since o’er Braddock’s Road - Bold Putnam and the Pioneers - Led History the way they strode. - - On wild Monongahela stream - They launched the Mayflower of the West, - A perfect State their civic dream, - A new New World their pilgrim quest. - - When April robed the Buckeye trees - Muskingum’s bosky shore they trod; - They pitched their tents and to the breeze - Flung freedom’s star-flag, thanking God. - - As glides the Oyo’s solemn flood - So fleeted their eventful years; - Resurgent in their children’s blood, - They still live on--the Pioneers. - - Their fame shrinks not to names and dates - On votive stone, the prey of time;-- - Behold where monumental States - Immortalize their lives sublime! - - - - - FOREST SONG. - - Read at the first meeting of the American Forestry Congress, in Music - Hall, Cincinnati, April 19, 1882. - - - A song for the beautiful trees! - A song for the forest grand, - The Garden of God’s own hand, - The pride of His centuries. - Hurrah! for the kingly oak, - For the maple, the sylvan queen, - For the lords of the emerald cloak, - For the ladies in golden green. - - For the beautiful trees a song! - The peers of a glorious realm, - The linden, the ash, and the elm, - The poplar stately and strong,-- - For the birch and the hemlock trim, - For the hickory staunch at core, - For the locust thorny and grim, - For the silvery sycamore. - - A song for the palm,--the pine, - And for every tree that grows, - From the desolate zone of snows - To the zone of the burning line; - Hurrah! for the warders proud - Of the mountainside and the vale, - That challenge the thunder-cloud, - And buffet the stormy gale. - - A song for the forest, aisled, - With its Gothic roof sublime, - The solemn temple of Time, - Where man becometh a child, - As he listens the anthem-roll - Of the voiceful winds that call, - In the solitude of his soul, - On the name of the All-in-All. - - So long as the rivers flow, - So long as the mountains rise, - May the foliage drink of the skies - And shelter the flowers below; - Hurrah! for the beautiful trees! - Hurrah! for the forest grand, - The pride of His centuries, - The Garden of God’s own hand. - - - - - A BALLAD OF OLD KENTUCKY. - - - Well, this is my story of Schoolmaster John, - And how, single-handed, he slew - A terrible monster, one May day, at dawn, - When our staunch old Kentucky was new. - - Full rude was the cabin, o’ershadowed by trees, - For the Lexington school-children made; - For, Cadmus forbid that the shrewd A-B-C’s - Be lost in the tanglewood shade! - - Alone sat the pedagogue, throned on a stool, - Entranced by poetical lore; - He waited and read, while the morning’s breath cool - Floated in through the wide-open door. - - Bent over a magical page of the tome - That Vergil--how long ago!--wrote, - He mused of Æneas and Dido and Rome, - When a tiger-cat sprang at his throat! - - Fight, fight! John McKinney, or perish! He fought! - Forgot was the Queen and her woe! - He uttered no cry; of the children he thought - As he grappled his terrible foe! - - Now which shall be victor, the brute or the man? - Hands battle against teeth and claws! - Survive the dread struggle the nature that can! - Savage might against letters and laws! - - The beast by the master was throttled and crushed - On his desk, while its fangs stung his side; - With the crimsoning rill from his pulses that gushed, - The leaves of his Vergil were dyed. - - Who fly to the rescue? Who scream with alarm? - Three scared little maidens! Then said - The schoolmaster, smiling, “No harm, dears, no harm! - I have caught you a wild-cat;--it’s dead.” - - And this is the story of pedagogue John - Of Kentucky, and how it befell - That, in the heroic old days that are gone, - He did what he had to do, well. - - God set him his task in the woods of the West - To teach and to tame what was wild; - To give his heart’s love and the blood of his breast - For the good of the pioneer’s child. - - No story of Theseus or Hercules strong - More beautiful is, nor so true; - The meed of devotion to duty is song: - Then pay John McKinney his due. - - - - - JOHN FILSON. - - Matthias Denman, Robert Patterson and John Filson laid out the town of - Losantiville, now the city of Cincinnati, in 1788. Filson, schoolmaster - and surveyor, went out to explore the woods between the Miamis, but - never returned. - - - John Filson was a pedagogue-- - A pioneer was he; - I know not what his nation was - Nor what his pedigree. - - Tradition’s scanty records tell - But little of the man, - Save that he to the frontier came - In immigration’s van. - - Perhaps with phantoms of reform - His busy fancy teemed, - Perhaps of new Utopias - Hesperian he dreamed. - - John Filson and companions bold - A frontier village planned, - In forest wild, on sloping hills, - By fair Ohio’s strand. - - John Filson from three languages - With pedant skill did frame - The novel word Losantiville - To be the new town’s name. - - Said Filson: “Comrades, hear my words: - Ere three-score years have flown - Our town will be a city vast.” - Loud laughed Bob Patterson. - - Still John exclaimed, with prophet-tongue, - “A city fair and proud, - The Queen of Cities in the West!” - Mat Denman laughed aloud. - - Deep in the wild and solemn woods - Unknown to white man’s track, - John Filson went, one autumn day, - But nevermore came back. - - He struggled through the solitude - The inland to explore, - And with romantic pleasure traced - Miami’s winding shore. - - Across his path the startled deer - Bounds to its shelter green; - He enters every lonely vale - And cavernous ravine. - - Too soon the murky twilight comes, - The boding night-winds moan; - Bewildered wanders Filson, lost, - Exhausted, and alone. - - By lurking foes his steps are dogged, - A yell his ear appalls! - A ghastly corpse, upon the ground, - A murdered man, he falls. - - The Indian, with instinctive hate, - In him a herald saw - Of coming hosts of pioneers, - The friends of light and law; - - In him beheld the champion - Of industries and arts, - The founder of encroaching roads - And great commercial marts; - - The spoiler of the hunting-ground, - The plower of the sod, - The builder of the Christian school - And of the house of God. - - And so the vengeful tomahawk - John Filson’s blood did spill,-- - The spirit of the pedagogue - No tomahawk could kill. - - John Filson had no sepulcher, - Except the wildwood dim; - The mournful voices of the air - Made requiem for him. - - The druid trees their waving arms - Uplifted o’er his head; - The moon a pallid veil of light - Upon his visage spread. - - The rain and sun of many years - Have worn his bones away, - And what he vaguely prophesied - We realize today. - - Losantiville, the prophet’s word, - The poet’s hope fulfils,-- - She sits a stately Queen to-day - Amid her royal hills! - - Then come, ye pedagogues, and join - To sing a grateful lay - For him, the martyr pioneer, - Who led for you the way. - - And may my simple ballad be - A monument to save - His name from blank oblivion, - Who never had a grave. - - - - - JOHNNY APPLESEED. - - A Ballad of the Old Northwest. - - - A midnight cry appalls the gloom, - The puncheon door is shaken: - “Awake! arouse! and flee the doom! - Man, woman, child, awaken! - - “Your sky shall glow with fiery beams - Before the morn breaks ruddy! - The scalpknife in the moonlight gleams, - Athirst for vengeance bloody!” - - Alarumed by the dreadful word - Some warning tongue thus utters, - The settler’s wife, like mother bird, - About her young ones flutters. - - Her first-born, rustling from a soft - Leaf-couch, the roof close under, - Glides down the ladder from the loft, - With eyes of dreamy wonder. - - The pioneer flings open wide - The cabin door, naught fearing; - The grim woods drowse on every side, - Around the lonely clearing. - - “Come in! come in! nor like an owl - Thus hoot your doleful humors; - What fiend possesses you, to howl - Such crazy, coward rumors?” - - The herald strode into the room; - That moment, through the ashes, - The back-log struggled into bloom - Of gold and crimson flashes. - - The glimmer lighted up a face, - And o’er a figure dartled, - So eerie, of so solemn grace, - The bluff backwoodsman startled. - - The brow was gathered to a frown, - The eyes were strangely glowing, - And, like a snow-fall drifting down, - The stormy beard went flowing. - - The tattered cloak that round him clung - Had warred with foulest weather; - Across his shoulders broad were flung - Brown saddlebags of leather. - - One pouch with hoarded seed was packed, - From Pennland cider-presses; - The other garnered book and tract - Within its creased recesses. - - A glance disdainful and austere, - Contemptuous of danger, - Cast he upon the pioneer, - Then spake the uncouth stranger: - - “Heed what the Lord’s anointed saith; - Hear one who would deliver - Your bodies and your souls from death; - List ye to John the Giver. - - “Thou trustful boy, in spirit wise - Beyond thy father’s measure, - Because of thy believing eyes - I share with thee my treasure. - - “Of precious seed this handful take; - Take next this Bible Holy: - In good soil sow both gifts, for sake - Of Him, the meek and lowly. - - “Farewell! I go!--the forest calls - My life to ceaseless labors; - Wherever danger’s shadow falls - I fly to save my neighbors. - - “I save; I neither curse nor slay; - I am a voice that crieth - In night and wilderness. Away! - Whoever doubteth, dieth!” - - The prophet vanished in the night, - Like some fleet ghost belated; - Then, awe-struck, fled with panic fright - The household, evil-fated. - - They hurried on with stumbling feet, - Foreboding ambuscado; - Bewildered hope told of retreat - In frontier palisado. - - But ere a mile of tangled maze - Their bleeding hands had broken, - Their home-roof set the dark ablaze, - Fulfilling doom forespoken. - - The savage death-whoop rent the air! - A howl of rage infernal! - The fugitives were in Thy care, - Almighty Power eternal! - - Unscathed by tomahawk or knife, - In bosky dingle nested, - The hunted pioneer, with wife - And babes, hid unmolested. - - The lad, when age his locks of gold - Had changed to silver glory, - Told grandchildren, as I have told, - This western wildwood story. - - Told how the fertile seeds had grown - To famous trees, and thriven; - And oft the Sacred Book was shown, - By that weird Pilgrim given. - - Remember Johnny Appleseed, - All ye who love the apple; - He served his kind by Word and Deed, - In God’s grand greenwood chapel. - - - - - WENDING WESTWARD. - - - A new star rose in Freedom’s sky - A hundred years ago; - It gleamed on Labor’s wistful eye, - With bright magnetic glow; - Hope and Courage whispered, Go, - Ye who toil and ye who wait! - Open swings the People’s gate! - Beyond the mountains and under the skies - Of the Wonderful West your Canaan lies:-- - On the banks of the Beautiful River, - By the shores of the Lakes of the North, - There fortune to each will deliver - His share of the teeming earth. - - Jocund voices called from the dark - Hesperian solitude, saying, Hark! - Harken, ye people! come from the East, - Come from the marge of the ocean, come! - Here in the Wilderness spread a feast; - This is the poor man’s welcome home. - - Hither with axe and plow; - (Carry the stripes and stars!) - Come with the faith and the vow - Of patriots wearing your scars - Like trophies, upon the victorious breast,-- - Noblemen! wend to the West! - Load your rude wagon with your scanty goods - And drive to the plentiful woods; - Your wheels as they rumble shall scare - The fleet-footed deer from the road, - And waken the sulky brown bear - In his long unmolested abode; - The Redman shall gaze in dumb fear - At the wain of the strange pioneer, - His barbarous eyes vainly spell - The capital letters which tell - That the White-foot is bound - For the good hunting-ground - Where the buffaloes dwell. - - To the Ohio Country, move on! - Bring your brain and your brawn - (Some books of the best, - Pack into the chest!) - Bring your wives and your sons, - Your maidens and lisping ones; - Your trust in God bring; - Choose a spot by a spring, - And build you a castle--a throne, - A palace of logs--but your own! - - Happy the new-born child - Nursed in the greenwood wild; - Though his cradle be only a trough, - Account him well off; - For born to the purple is he, - The proud royal robe of the Free! - For the latest time is the best, - And the happiest place is the West, - Where man shall establish anew - Things excellent, beautiful, true! - - - - - THE TEACHER’S DREAM. - - - The weary teacher sat alone, - While twilight gathered on: - And not a sound was heard around, - The boys and girls were gone. - - The weary teacher sat alone, - Unnerved and pale was he; - Bowed by a yoke of care he spoke - In sad soliloquy: - - “Another round, another round - Of labor thrown away, - Another chain of toil and pain - Dragged through a tedious day. - - “Of no avail is constant zeal, - Love’s sacrifice is loss, - The hopes of morn, so golden, turn, - Each evening, into dross. - - “I squander on a barren field - My strength, my life, my all; - The seeds I sow will never grow, - They perish where they fall.” - - He sighed, and low upon his hands - His aching brow he prest, - And like a spell upon him fell - A soothing sense of rest. - - Ere long he lifted drowsy eyes, - When, on his startled view, - The room by strange and sudden change - To vast proportions grew! - - It seemed a senate house, and one - Addressed a listening throng; - Each burning word all bosoms stirred, - Applause rose loud and long. - - The wildered teacher thought he knew - The speaker’s voice and look, - “And for his name,” said he, “the same - Is in my record-book.” - - The stately congress hall dissolved, - A church rose in its place, - Wherein there stood a man of God, - Dispensing words of grace. - - And though he heard the solemn voice, - And saw the beard of gray, - The teacher’s thought was strangely wrought - “My yearning heart to-day - - “Wept for this youth whose wayward will - Against persuasion strove, - Compelling force, love’s last resource, - To stablish laws of love.” - - The church, a phantasm, vanished soon; - What shadowy picture then? - In classic gloom of alcoved room - An author plied his pen. - - “My idlest lad!” the master said, - Filled with a new surprise, - “Shall I behold _his_ name enrolled - Among the great and wise?” - - The vision of a cottage home - Was now through tears descried: - A mother’s face illumed the place - Her influence sanctified. - - “A miracle! a miracle! - This matron well I know! - She was a wild and careless child - Not half an hour ago. - - “Now, when she to her children speaks - Of duty’s golden rule, - Her lips repeat, in accents sweet, - My words to her at school.” - - Dim on the teacher’s brain returned - The humble school-room old; - Upon the wall did darkness fall, - The evening air was cold. - - “A dream!” the sleeper, waking, said, - Then paced along the floor, - And, whistling low and soft and slow, - He locked the school-house door. - - His musing heart was reconciled - To love’s divine delays: - “The bread forth cast returns at last, - Lo, after many days!” - - - - - BY THEIR FRUITS. - - - Above the clash of counter creeds - These gospel accents swell: - Whoever doeth righteous deeds - Hath read his Bible well. - - Like fragrant blooms of lavish spring - Are adoration’s vows; - The tree that pleases God will bring - Fair fruitage on its boughs. - - - - - PESTALOZZI. - - For the 150th anniversary of the birthday of Pestalozzi, celebrated in - Cincinnati, January 13, 1896. - - - Through vasty shades of savage Occident - The Ohio groped what time the man I sing - Took first quick draught of that free element - That thrills Swiss life, and felt the quivering - Of Alpine light which welcomed him to earth. - In Zurich then was born--sublime event-- - A man-child in whose soul new gospels waited birth. - - The world is ever plastic in the hand - Of humble saviours fearless of the cross: - One self-forgetting hero may command - And mould the future, scorning present loss: - Meek Pestalozzi, herding in his mind - Helvetia’s strayling little children, planned - By their salvation surely to redeem mankind. - - Much hope, more love possessed him, but most grief; - His heart, a mourner, sobbed o’er common woe: - Did the Almighty slumber or seem deaf - To wails ascending from His poor below? - Nay, Heaven remembers every bitter tear, - Yet mundane ills must seek on earth relief; - Lo, the Divine hath found a human volunteer. - - By sad Lucern arose the children’s cry, - The shelterless, the poor, the innocent; - The man of Zurich spake: “They must not die: - War cast them out, but I by Peace am sent - To father them and mother them and feed - Their bodies and their spirits; need have I - None other than to share their utmost dolorous need. - - “Oh, better never to be born at all - Than live forlorn, the victim of neglect! - To fall from brotherhood is lowest fall. - Lift up the low! bid man’s soul stand erect! - On Education found the Church and State. - I send through Europe my imploring call: - Millennial blessings round the Kindergarten wait! - - “Unfold what is within! Develop! Make - Full, fragrant efflorescence of the soul! - Let bloom the brain and call the heart awake! - Nothing repress; expand the being, whole, - Complete and perfect under nature’s awe, - Our dear Schoolmistress.” Thus prophetic spake - A voice of faith, forecharged with evolution’s law. - - Thus the reformer’s zealous wisdom taught: - Thus, sometime, plead with Bonaparte austere, - Who, scorning prophecy in soaring thought - Of self, flung answer with a royal sneer: - “We can’t be troubled with the A-B-C!” - Vain Emperor! the sword with which he fought - Made slaves which battling alphabets set free. - - The culture-captain had his marshals, too, - Ritter and Froebel and a legion more; - They proselyted nations, old and new, - They set their banners fair on every shore; - A million teachers follow in the way - The martyr opened to the good and true; - Our children bask in beam of Pestalozzi’s day. - - He deemed his lavish life of no avail, - Dim was his prospect of the Promised Land; - But even then when faith and hope did fail, - The seed, wide scattered from his weary hand, - Was springing, waving, bursting into flower; - For grain of truth is waft on every gale - And sinks in every soil its root of deathless power. - - He fell in conflict, but the field was won; - First Democrat of Culture! Thinker brave! - Hail, Switzerland, proud mother of such son, - Heap laurel garlands on his honored grave! - In flowers hide its consecrated sod! - Time writes his shining epitaph: “Well done!” - And Science vindicates his confidence in God. - - - - - “THERE IS NO CASTE IN BLOOD.” - - - In Gunga’s vale is heard - Siddhartha’s sacred word; - Thrill, heart of Hindustan! - Good tidings! Man is _Man_. - The Sudra’s eyes grow dim - With tears, for unto him - Thus spake Siddhartha good, - “There is no caste in blood.” - - Take comfort, humble soul! - The ages hopeward roll; - Time grows compassionate; - Thou art not doomed by Fate; - Religion shall prevail;-- - Hail! blessed Buddha! hail! - Proclaim thy message good, - “There is no caste in blood.” - - Ye plains of Ind, rejoice - At Love’s sweet-sounding voice! - Ye heights of Himalay - Gleam bright for joy to-day! - The truth to Buddha sent - New lights the Orient, - Presaging all men good: - “There is no caste in blood.” - - - - - VIVA LA GUERRA. - - April 23, 1898. - - - Viva la Guerra! - That is Spain’s cry; - This our reply: - Viva la Guerra! - - Saber clash saber! - Scath visit scath! - Wrath answer wrath! - Saber clash saber. - - Army front army! - People or crown, - Which shall go down? - Army face army. - - Navy meet navy, - Strong versus strong; - Right against wrong; - Navy dares navy. - - Cannon to cannon, - Powder and ball! - God over all! - Cannon to cannon. - - Viva la Guerra! - Mars against Thor! - Beautiful War! - Viva la Guerra! - - - - - BATTLE CRY. - - May 1, 1898. - - - The loud drums are rolling, the mad trumpets blow! - To battle! the war is begun and we go - To humble the pride of an arrogant foe! - - _The ensign and standard which wave for the Crown - Of Castile and Aragon--trample them down! - Granada and Leon and haughty Navarre - Shall lower their banner to Cuba’s lone star!_ - - Now under Old Glory, the Blue and the Gray - United march shoulder to shoulder away, - To meet the Hidalgos in furious fray. - - With musket and haversack ready are we - To tramp the globe over, to sweep every sea, - From isles of dead Philip to Florida’s Key. - - We think of the Maine and our hot bosoms swell - With rage of love’s sorrow, which vengeance must quell, - And then we are ready to storm gates of Hell. - - Our flag streams aloft by the tempest unfurled! - We strike for a Continent;--nay, for the World! - Mene, Tekel, Upharsin! the thunder is hurled! - - _The ensign and standard which wave for the Crown - Of Castile and Aragon--trample them down! - Granada and Leon and haughty Navarre - Shall lower their banner to Cuba’s lone star!_ - - - - - EL EMPLAZADO. - - - El Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One, - Spain whom the nations denounce and abhor, - Robe thy dismay in the black sanbenito, - Come to the frowning tribunal of war. - - Curst were thy minions, their roster and scutcheon, - Alvas, Alfonsos, archarchons of hate; - Pillared on bigotry, pride, and extortion, - Topples to ruin thy mansion of state. - - Violence, Cruelty, Intrigue, and Treason, - These the false courtiers who flattered thy throne; - Empires, thy sisters, forbode thee disaster, - Even thy children their mother disown. - - Suppliant Cuba, thy daughter forsaken, - Famished and bleeding and buffeted sore, - Ghastly from gashes and stabs of thy rancor, - Binds up her wounds at an alien door. - - Courts and corregidors erst at thy bidding - Banished or butchered Moresco and Jew; - Ghosts from all Christendom, shades of the Martyrs - Flock from the sepulcher thee to pursue. - - Wrath of retributive justice o’ertakes thee: - Brand of time’s malison blisters thy brow: - Armed cabelleros and crowned kings of Bourbon, - All are unable to succor thee now. - - El Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One! - God’s Inquisition condemns thee today! - Earth-shaking cannon-bolts thunder thy sentence,-- - Heaven re-echoes the auto de fe. - - - - - NATIONAL SONG. - - Dedicated to the Business Men’s Club of Cincinnati, May 13, 1903. - - - America, my own! - Thy spacious grandeurs rise - Faming the proudest zone - Pavilioned by the skies; - Day’s flying glory breaks - Thy vales and mountains o’er, - And gilds thy streams and lakes - From ocean shore to shore. - - Praised be thy wood and wold, - Thy corn and wine and flocks, - The yellow blood of gold - Drained from thy cañon rocks; - Thy trains that shake the land, - Thy ships that plow the main, - Triumphant cities grand - Roaring with noise of gain. - - Earth’s races look to Thee: - The peoples of the world - Thy risen splendors see - And thy wide flag unfurled; - Thy sons, in peace or war, - That emblem who behold, - Bless every shining star, - Cheer every streaming fold! - - Float high, O gallant flag, - O’er Carib Isles of palm, - O’er bleak Alaskan crag, - O’er far-off lone Guam; - Where Mauna Loa pours - Black thunder from the deeps; - O’er Mindanao’s shores, - O’er Luzon’s coral steeps. - - Float high, and be the sign - Of love and brotherhood,-- - The pledge, by right divine - Of Power, to do good; - For aye and everywhere, - On continent and wave, - Armipotent to dare, - Imperial to save! - - - - - RIGHT OF MIGHT. - - - I do enlist me in the cause of man, - The old, dear cause of liberty for all, - The hope of history since bards began - To sing inspired heroic battle-call. - - The precious purchase of ten thousand years, - The slow-won gains hard held at awful cost - Of toil and thought and grief and blood and tears-- - Shall these be stolen from the world, and lost? - - These to retain, must force, perforce, alas, - Lift up her banners and her thunders hurl: - Then, when the reign of cruelty shall pass, - Dare Charity her fighting ensign furl. - - Where rings no song for freedom, none are free; - Where gleams no sword for justice, justice dies; - Where gates of hell prevail, then must it be - The Powers of Darkness storm the very skies. - - The Prince of Gentleness, did He not bring - A brand, lest violence on earth prevail? - He preached, He prayed. And poets needs must sing - War against wrong, or Christ himself must fail. - - - - - JAMES E. MURDOCH. - - On His Eightieth Birthday. - - - Four-score! That gallant stripling? No! - That passion-breathing Romeo, - Who climbed, last night, the garden wall, - Mocked by Mercutio’s madcap call! - - Four-score? What, he? Charles Surface? Nay; - He is as young as blooming May; - You do but jest; I know him well-- - Who can forget wild Mirabel? - - Whatever the costume, forsooth, - The same inimitable youth! - Marked you the sables Hamlet wore, - Dark-plumed, in moonlit Elsinore? - - Gray locks? Believe the joke who can! - They “make him up” to play “old man”; - Pluck off the wig! Crow’s feet erase! - And recognize wag Murdoch’s face! - - Nay;--sober Time his card holds high, - And, swearing figures will not lie, - Adds up the years and proves the date: - See, in the ten’s place, here, an eight. - - So be it; Chronos, go thy ways; - Our friend grows old and full of days; - His frame may bend to Time’s control, - But Time is servant to his soul. - - His drama on the world’s wide stage, - Now in the last calm scene, old age, - Has been throughout legitimate, - In motive true, performance great. - - Whoever thus fulfils his part - Achieves the uttermost of art; - Who thus the scene of life has trod - Pleases the Manager--his God. - - Or soon or late, _exeunt_ all-- - The bell will ring, the curtain fall, - And we, the actors, put away - The masking garments of the play. - - When we from off the boards have passed, - And every light is out at last, - We’ll leave the theater and go - Where real life replaces show. - - Play out the play! and be content - To wait for that supreme event; - Dear Murdoch! master, father, friend,-- - Star on! still bright’ning to the end! - - - - - THE CONCORD SEER. - - - The Transcendentalist--he now transcends - The cloud of death to join exalted friends. - The Saadi of the West, the Saint, the Sage, - The north-sprung Plato of an un-Greek age, - Hath changed his habitation, and his ghost - Takes note authentic of the unknown coast. - Ah, joy serene! there doth he recognize - Congenial souls foreknown “polite and wise”:-- - Two bards were first to hail his risen wraith, - One sang the Psalm of Life, one that of Death; - Then mystic Hawthorne took his willing hand, - As Vergil Dante’s in the Shadow Land; - Now haply doth his converse reconcile - Momentous discords with redeemed Carlyle; - Perhaps in Soul’s consortable domain - He meets the shade of erudite Montaigne; - Or German-Grecian Goethe shows the way - To Fields Elysian where the Ancients stray;-- - By some celestial brook of lucent flow, - Where plane-trees with immortal verdure grow, - May sit, discoursing calm philosophies, - The Concord Seer, with argute Socrates. - - - - - THE POET OF CLOVERNOOK. - - Read at the Celebration of Alice Cary’s birthday, - to the children of the Public Schools of - Cincinnati, April 26, 1880. - - - A poet born, not made, - By Nature taught, she knew, - And, knowing, still obeyed - The Beautiful, the True. - - Hers was the seeing eye, - The sympathetic heart, - The subtle art whereby - Lone genius summons art. - - She caught the primal charm - Of every rural scene,-- - Of river, cottage, farm, - Blue sky, and woodland green. - - Baptized in Sorrow’s stream, - She sang, how sweetly well, - Of true Love’s tender dream, - And Death’s pale asphodel. - - Her pensive muse has fled - From hill and meadow-brook; - No more her footsteps tread - Thy paths, fair Clovernook. - - No more may she behold - The dew-crowned Summer morn - On wings of sunrise gold - Fly o’er the bending corn. - - No more her mournful gaze - Shall seek the twilight sky, - When parting Autumn days - Flush hectic ere they die. - - Nor note of joyous bird, - Nor April’s fragrant breath, - Nor tear, nor loving word, - May break the spell of Death. - - Sleep on! and take thy rest, - In Greenwood by the sea! - Dear Poet of the West, - Thy West remembers thee. - - - - - THE GREENFIELD WIZARD. - - (J. W. R.) - - - Two things there are in heaven above - And earth below--the greater, Love, - The lesser, Death--and therefor grew - Heart’s-ease and rosemary and rue - And myrrh and moly, magic plants; - These, and a common rose or two - Besprent with Indiana dew, - My wizard gathers from their haunts; - Distils the balmy, subtle juice - To make a spell of potent use; - Filters a seeming simple wine - Nectared with some drops most rare-- - (How he finds the tinct or where, - Not the critics can divine!) - Whoso gives the wine his lips, - Sipping smiles, and laughing sips; - But, before he drinks it up, - Tears have trickled in the cup. - - - - - WILLIAM BAIRD OF RIDGEVILLE. - - - Now who is the delightfulest - Old soldier that shakes hands with you? - The genial host, the welcome guest, - The teeming brain, the bosom true, - The soul of song and merry jest? - The prince of all good fellows, who? - “Why, William Baird of Ridgeville!” - - Whenever meets the G. A. R., - Through rain or dust he hies to town; - He gladdens the excursion car, - And, as his regiment tramps down - The gala street, you hear afar - The marching measure, “Old John Brown,” - From William Baird of Ridgeville. - - Then all the casements open wide, - A thousand flags are shaken free, - The balconies on either side - Are loud with shouts of jubilee, - And thrilling maidens wave with pride - Their kerchiefs, laughing, crying: “See! - That’s William Baird of Ridgeville!” - - All children feel his gracious charm,-- - Of gentle birth, or sprung of churls; - From hut and mansion, street and farm, - Troop eager round him lads and girls; - The baby leaves its mother’s arm - To ride the shoulder, pull the curls - Of William Baird of Ridgeville. - - The fools in flock from William fly, - Like fluttered sparrows from a hawk; - The women hover warmly nigh, - Like bees around a lily-stalk,-- - Enchanted by the sparkling eye - And by the spiced and nectared talk - Of William Baird of Ridgeville. - - Yet Bill is not a ladies’ man; - He consorts with “the boys”;--he jokes-- - This front-faced, sturdy veteran-- - With common and uncommon folks; - He’s not the least a Puritan:-- - Sometimes he drinks, and daily smokes - His briar-pipe, at Ridgeville. - - Wit’s gold is minted in his brain - And glitters from his lavish tongue: - The gravest deacon frowns in vain - To quench the laughter; old and young - Report the brilliant quips that rain - Like scattered pearls at random flung - By William Baird of Ridgeville. - - No wight can counterfeit or steal - What unpremeditated art - Gives him to improvise, to feel, - To waken in the answering heart; - What they from learning’s pride conceal, - The Muses uninvoked impart - To William Baird of Ridgeville. - - An unambitious soul hath Bill; - The man is modest as a maid; - Down at the foot of fortune’s hill - His genius bides in calm and shade; - He reads his Shakespeare, dreams his fill; - A scythe he swings or plies a spade,-- - Bold Captain Baird of Ridgeville. - - Nor wife nor child his arms enfold; - No, no--he is a bachelor; - Yet, in his bosom aches an old - Deep wound which antedates the war; - He mourns--so is the secret told-- - His dear, dead sweetheart, Eleanor;-- - True William Baird of Ridgeville. - - Bill’s time must come some day, to die! - Then like a soldier he’ll be found, - Nor fear the bullet’s whizzing cry, - Nor dread the final trumpet’s sound. - If I be breathing then, may I - Be with him on that battleground, - To kiss his lips and say good-bye - To William Baird of Ridgeville. - - - - - LET’S SHAKE. - - Impromptu. - - - You thought you would take me, you say, by surprise! - You rascal! I knew you the moment my eyes - Lit on your old phiz, and I couldn’t mistake - Your voice nor your motions. How are you? - Let’s shake! - - Train late? But you got here? Now why did you wire - Me not to expect you, you measureless liar? - Come up to my den, and by jolly! we’ll make - A night of it--where is your luggage? - Let’s shake! - - Say, how have you been? Let me look in your face; - Have you won, have you lost, in the strenuous race? - Have you knocked the persimmons and taken the cake? - No? Here’s a small wallet--we’ll share it-- - Let’s shake! - - You may bank on my heart,--it is truer than gold; - Hot, hotter it grows as the world waxes cold; - Through flood and through flame I would go for your sake, - That’s so, Bill, you grizzly old humbug, - Let’s shake! - - You’re married, I dare say, or leastwise, in love? - Speak out, for you know we are like hand and glove; - I used to think you and Belle Esmond would wed;-- - Yes, yes, as I wrote you, the baby is dead;-- - I feared for awhile that my wife’s heart must break; - Your hand, dear old comrade--don’t mind me,-- - Let’s shake! - - God bless you! I’m awfully glad you are here, - You must not make fun of this womanish tear; - He was only a baby, scarce two Aprils old, - But, William, I tell you they do get a hold - Of the heartstrings, these babies, and, since ours went, - Why, somehow or other, we’re not quite content - With this planet;--but when all our miseries here - Are over, I hope we may strike a new sphere - Up yonder, where hearts never hunger nor ache;-- - You’ll get there, I reckon, if I do? - Let’s shake! - - - - - A WELCOME TO BOZ. - - Impromptu. - - - In immortal Weller’s name, - By Micawber’s deathless fame, - By the flogging wreaked on Squeers, - By Job Trotter’s fluent tears, - By the beadle Bumble’s fate - At the hands of vixen mate, - By the famous Pickwick Club, - By the dream of Gabriel Grubb, - In the name of Snodgrass’ muse, - Tupman’s amorous interviews, - Winkle’s ludicrous mishaps, - And the fat boy’s countless naps, - By Ben Allen and Bob Sawyer, - By Miss Sally Brass, the lawyer, - In the name of Newman Noggs, - River Thames and London fogs, - Richard Swiveller’s excess, - Feasting with the Marchioness, - By Jack Bunsby’s oracles, - By the chime of Christmas bells, - By the cricket on the hearth, - Scrooge’s frown and Crotchit’s mirth, - By spread tables and good cheer, - Wayside inns and pots of beer, - Hostess plump and jolly host, - Coaches for the country post, - Chambermaid in love with Boots, - Toodles, Traddles, Tapley, Toots, - Jarley, Varden, Mister Dick, - Susan Nipper, Mistress Chick, - Snevellicci, Lilyvick, - Mantalini’s predilections - To transfer his “dem” affections, - Podsnap, Pecksniff, Chuzzlewit, - Quilp and Simon Tappertit, - Weg and Boffin, Smike and Paul, - Nell and Jenny Wren and all,-- - Be not Sairy Gamp forgot,-- - No, nor Peggotty and Trot,-- - By poor Barnaby and Grip, - Dora, Flora, Di and Gip, - Perrybingle, Pinch and Pip-- - Welcome, long-expected guest, - Welcome, Dickens, to the West. - - 1867. - - - - - THE BOOK AUCTION. - - - “How much am I bid?” said the spry auctioneer, - “For the lays of a well-known bard?” - The bard, incog, who was hovering near, - Glanced up, and his breath came hard. - - “I am offered a dime! Just think of it, gents! - For these ‘Songs of the Dewy Dawn’! - Are you all done bidding? Ten! ten cents-- - Ten cents--and--going--and--gone! - - “You don’t know elegant books from trash!” - Joked the jubilant auctioneer; - The dubious author bit his mustache, - And felt confoundedly queer. - - “A beautiful copy of Shakespeare’s pomes! - How much am I bid? Look alive! - A right nice work to embellish your homes; - Five cents! Sold to cash, for five!” - - The incog singer twinkled his eye - And inwardly said with a thrill: - “American poetry doesn’t sell high, - But I’d hate to go cheap as old Bill.” - - - - - A GIFT ACKNOWLEDGED. - - February 19, 1881. - - - Your Winter gift of bud and bloom - Took nature by surprise; - ’Twas sudden Summer in my room, - And April in my eyes. - - The kindly mist a moment stole - The flowers from my view, - But lo! they blossomed in my soul, - Where love their fragrance knew. - - Fair embassy! their smiles I greet, - Camellia, pink and rose; - I understand the message sweet - Their gentle hearts enclose. - - Their winsome beauty gladdens me - With this immortal truth: - No age can quite unhappy be - That still remembers youth. - - Dear boys! companions! friends sincere! - More warm and true than men, - I thank you most because my tear - Made me a boy again. - - - - - THE OLD HOMESTEAD. - - - Enshrined among roses - The Homestead reposes - With vines mantled o’er; - Ground-ivy and clover - Are running all over - The stone at the door. - - Pinks, lilies, are blowing, - Blue violets showing - Gold hearts to the June; - Bees going and coming - Keep evermore humming - Their Hyblean tune. - - ’Twas here that I wasted - Youth’s flower and tasted - Love’s first honey-dew; - A boy here I slumbered, - By care unencumbered, - Long, balmy nights through. - - The wood-birds each morning - Gave musical warning - For shadows to fly; - Their rhapsody choral - Foretold the auroral - First flush of the sky. - - With rising emotion - Akin to devotion - The scene I behold;-- - With fond recollections - Of tender affections - Too sweet to be told. - - - - - JENNIE MOORE. - - - The morning air is richly rife - With southern soft perfumes; - Yon orchard glows with sudden blush - Of mingled buds and blooms; - The madrigals of wooing birds - Awaken amorous Spring, - And “Jennie Moore, sweet Jennie Moore” - Is all the song they sing. - - Glad Yalobusha’s rippling waves - Repeat the darling name; - The zephyr lost among the pines - Dies murmuring the same; - And when the hush of twilight steals - Along the dreamy shore, - The blissful silence to my heart - Keeps singing “Jennie Moore.” - - - - - ASHES. - - - The fire of love is dead. - No spark of living red - The cold, gray ashes show. - Be still! thy sighing breath-- - Can it requicken death? - Nay, hope not, dream not so. - Ah, no, no, no! - - - - - POSY. - - - Laura is the first to seek - Rime of March in wildwood bleak; - First to mourn the aster’s death, - Withered by November’s breath; - Every glade and glen she knows - Where the coy spring-beauty grows, - Searches sunny slope and dell - For the pearl or golden bell - Of the quivering addertongue - By the wandering zephyr swung; - She and April, comrades boon, - Hail the early-crowned puccoon; - In the dingle lone she sees - Tremulous anemones; - From the breast of June she takes - Columbines and plumy brakes; - Not a daisy she’ll forget, - Nor the humblest violet. - Lilies proud, on stately stalks, - Bow to greet her where she walks; - Roses to her pathway lean, - Queens saluting lovelier queen, - Emulous to win her eyes, - Rivals for self-sacrifice; - Blesséd they whom she shall choose - Though their fragrant lives they lose! - Joyful the elected flower - Which may triumph one brief hour, - Mingled with the clustered few, - Musical in form and hue! - Thus sweet notes that singly please - Join in chordant melodies! - So do gathered fancies twine - Graceful in the rhythmic line;-- - Like a perfect lyric lay - Laura’s exquisite bouquet. - - - - - A SNOW BIRD. - - - Beside the curbstone, in gusty whirl - Of dust and snow-drift, stood a little girl; - The piteous tears ran down her baby face; - In dumb despair she stood, nor moved a pace, - Her flying curls and fluttering short dress - Pathetic signals of forlorn distress; - Her fondling hands, all purple with the cold, - Unto her breast a china doll did hold. - “What is the matter, dear, why do you cry?” - Her chill-cramped lips made dolefullest reply: - “I am so cold, and I don’t know the way.” - That was the most her helplessness could say. - - Ere long, before a laughing, ruddy flame, - She smiled through tears and shyly told her name; - I led the strayling to her mother’s door, - And in she flew,--I never saw her more. - Yet oftentimes, when Winter scoffs the sun, - She is my bosom’s guest, that timid one; - She steals into my heart and sobbing stands, - A naked doll in her caressing hands; - I see her shiver and I hear her say, - “I am so cold, and I don’t know the way.” - - - - - THE UPSET. - - - Enforced pursuit of silver eagles fleet - Gave early haste to my reluctant feet, - And so it chanced I hurried--I and Care-- - At sunrise down a city thoroughfare; - But by the grace of some directing fay - I met a sight that gladdened me all day. - - I saw a beer-plump Saxon--Bacchus’ son-- - His red, round face the symbol of slow fun; - Unconscious he of all ’twixt sky and earth - Except one soul-engrossing cause of mirth: - He dragged a painted sled, and, perched thereon, - Sat snug a three-years’ maiden, bright as dawn, - And happy as the sparrows chirping round, - Crumb-hunting near her on the snowy ground. - A sudden turn! a laughing cry, and lo! - The sled upsets, and Mädchen prints the snow. - She laughs; I laugh; loud ha-ha’s Bacchus’ son;-- - Then gravely he,--“By yolly! dot vas fun.” - - - - - THE SCHOOL GIRL. - - - From some sweet home the morning train - Brings to the city, - Five days a week, in sun or rain, - Returning like a song’s refrain, - A school girl pretty. - - A violet’s unaffected grace - Is dainty miss’s, - Yet, in her shy, expressive face, - The touch of urban arts I trace, - And artifices. - - No one but she and Heaven knows - Of what she’s thinking; - It may be either books or beaux, - Fine scholarship or stylish clothes, - Per cents or prinking. - - How happy must the household be - This morn who kissed her; - Not every one can make so free; - Who sees her, inly wishes she - Were his own sister. - - How favored is the book she cons, - The slate she uses, - The hat she lightly doffs and dons, - The orient sunshade that she owns, - The desk she chooses. - - Is she familiar with the wars - Of Julius Caesar? - Do crucibles, and Leyden jars, - And Browning, and the moons of Mars, - And Euclid, please her? - - She studies music, I opine; - O day of knowledge! - And other mysteries divine - Of imitation or design, - Taught in the college. - - A charm attends her everywhere, - A sense of beauty; - Care smiles to see her free of care; - The hard heart loves her unaware; - Age pays her duty. - - Her innocence is panoply, - Her weakness, power; - The earth her guardian, and the sky; - God’s every star is her ally, - And every flower. - - - - - THE READERS. - - - Come hither, my ten years’ maiden; - O’er what do you ponder so much? - “I am reading in Tanglewood Stories, - The tale of the Golden Touch.” - - Ah! Hattie, my flax-haired darling, - How buried in study you seem. - “I am reading in Tales from Shakespeare, - Of Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream.” - - And there on the sofa is Mayo; - My laddie, what pleases you so? - “This picture and fable in Æsop,-- - See here,--of the Pitcher and Crow.” - - Come hither, my dream-eyed baby, - You’re falling asleep on the floor! - “I’m reading in Sing Song, papa,-- - I wish you would read me some more.” - - - - - WAG. - - Obiit, February 7, 1878. - - - He was only a dog, and a mongrel at that, - And worthless and troublesome, lazy and fat,-- - Was Wag, who died yesterday night; - Yet now that his barking forever is o’er, - And his caudal appendage can waggle no more, - His elegy I will indite. - - ’Twas seldom authority mastered his will; - He always was noisy when bid to be still; - He slumbered while danger was near; - He ran after chickens against all command; - When ordered to “sick” he would heedlessly stand; - His principal passion was fear. - - From morning till night he would dig in the ground - To get at a rabbit, but, when it was found, - In terror he took to his heels; - But there was one duty he never did shun, - From that naught could drive him, to that he would run: - Wag never neglected his meals. - - The tax that I paid the police on his poll, - A dollar a year, I begrudged in my soul, - For Wag I thought dear at a cent; - And once, in my hardness, I gloomily said, - “I wish that the no-account puppy were dead!” - But now he _is_ dead, I repent. - - Wag came from Kentucky, a waif, bundled up - And packed in a basket, a charity pup,-- - In pity we warmed him and fed; - The only return that his nature could give - For preserving his life, was serenely to live, - Content with his board and his bed. - - He was kind to the dogs upon Tusculum Hill; - He followed them all with fraternal good will, - From coach dog to commonest cur; - He was grateful to _people_ who treated him right, - And for his young mistress he even would fight, - But not lose his dinner for her. - - I miss his black body curled up and asleep, - I miss his contortions, his bark, and his leap, - And the sound of his gnawing at bones; - The very same night that the Pope died at Rome, - Poor Wag, all alone, in the wash-house at home, - Yielded up his last shivering moans. - - And when to the children, next morning, I said, - As they sat at the table, “Yes, Wag--he is dead,” - There was not a dry eye in the room; - And Auntie began, with remorse, to recall - How lately she’d driven deceased from the hall, - With scoldings and blows of a broom. - - Now Wag is asleep near an apple-tree old, - And a dog-rose shall blossom above his dear mold, - And there shall a tablet be set; - For though but a dog, and a mongrel at that, - And worthless, and idle, and lazy, and fat,-- - Poor Wag was _our_ dog, and a pet. - - - - - DONATELLO. - - - Who will capture Donatello? - Roving cat! - Fierce, ungovernable fellow; - Musical as Leporello,-- - Sharp and flat! - Terrible in a duello. - - Ragamuffin, have you met a - Felis fat? - Ancestored in gay Valetta, - Where brown dames in black faldetta, - Walk and chat-- - Hot his blood as flame of Ætna. - - Beautiful, romantic, splendid - Autocrat! - To the forest, unattended, - Daring Donatello wended: - Owl and bat, - Weasel, mole, and mink, he rended. - - Savage wildwood his unbounded - Habitat; - By no man or mastiff hounded, - By the midnight mirk surrounded-- - Think of that! - Oft his caterwaul he sounded. - - Freedom to the gallant fellow. - Exeat! - Victor in each fierce duello, - Midnight, madcap Leporello! - Roving cat! - Graceless, graceful Donatello! - - - - - GABRIEL OF SCHWARTZENWALD. - - - Rhyme, and ring the changes well, - Sing the song of Gabriel, - Gabriel of Schwartzenwald. - - Lo, a voice delusive called - From the Ohio’s crooked vale, - Saying, “Sail and sail and sail - Over the sea and hither away, - Westering to the Land of Play; - Happy region of Do-as-you-please, - Where the guilders grow on trees, - Where the peasants all are kings - And there be no underlings.” - - Gabriel, the idle dreamer, - Heard the Utopian voice alluring; - Sought a sail-ship,--not a steamer; - Soon the vessel leaves her mooring, - Veers and tacks to Occident, - Bears him o’er the crinkled sea; - Never soul so indolent - Lounged upon a deck as he. - With the vagrant breeze he glides - Over sun-lit, moon-lit tides, - Skims to port and shore; - Spins along the shining rail, - Sleeps into Ohio’s vale,-- - Wakes--the journey o’er. - Not an idler Gabriel sees, - Not a kreutzer on the trees; - Every bretzel must be bought; - Naught is proffered him for naught. - ’Tis the Region of Unrest, - Busy, toiling, moiling West! - - All the peasant kings he found - Building houses, tilling ground. - Gabriel of Schwartzenwald - From his dream is disenthralled; - Transatlantic, far away, - Eastward looms the Land of Play. - - Like the lily, like the daisy, - Lolling Gabriel was lazy; - Clownish were his clumsy paces, - Ludicrous his slow grimaces; - Ill-defined the thoughts he spoke, - Like the wreathed tobacco smoke - From his meerschaum upward shed - Curling round his shaggy head. - Little could he understand:-- - “Vish I vas in Faderland, - Nicht is goot for notings here - Only shust das lager-bier.” - - Easily he wept or smiled, - Easily was he beguiled; - Rill-like, shallow, o’er his mind, - Ran affections swift and kind; - Secretly he shared his meat - With a lame cur on the street; - “Vonce I had a hund,” said he, - “Vat vas very freund to me; - Ya, mein Herr, dat hund vas mine; - Vish I heard him barkin’ here; - Vish I had a glass goot bier, - Oder flash von German wein.” - - Hard by Mineami Bayou, - Where the gadding breezes cool - Loiter up from the Ohio, - Gabriel, at sink of sun, - Throned upon a wooden stool, - Fondled his accordion. - Then the ragged urchins round, - And their brown-legged sisters, maybe, - Lugging each a flax-haired baby,-- - Sometimes, too, the weary mothers, - Yea, and I, and lingering others, - By sad, dulcet quaverings won, - Gathered near to catch the sound; - O’er the hill the risen moon - Paused to hear the mellow tune; - All too sadly, all too soon, - Gabriel would cease to play, - Light his pipe and puff away. - “Vas a Fräulein,”--mumbled he; - “Vish I vas to-night not hier; - Not America for me,-- - Only shust das lager-bier.” - “Play a waltz now, Gabriel!” “Nein, - Rhine wein ist der beste wein.” - - Gabriel did sigh and sadden - For the linden shades of Baden, - For the glooms of Schwartzenwald; - So a homesick brief he scrawled - To his mother, her to tell - That he was not strong or well. - (Of the Fräulein wrote he not,-- - Haply Gabriel forgot.) - Soon the doting mother old,-- - Four-score were her years and three,-- - Sent the lout a purse of gold, - With the summons--“Come to me! - Komm zu mir, mein Sohn, geschwind, - Komm zu mir, mein liebes Kind.” - - From the Ohio’s crooked vale, - Flying fast by rail and sail, - Home to Schwartzenwald away, - Eastward to the Land of Play, - Gabriel of Schwartzenwald - Followed the mother-tongue that called - From the fatherland in tearful tone, - “Komm, Gabriel, mein lieber Sohn!” - Followed the mother-voice and the call - Of the nameless Fräulein, short or tall, - And the coaxing lisp of the linden leaves, - And the bark of a dog forlorn that grieves - For an absent master; the gurgle, too, - Of bottled grape-juice and foamy brew, - And the tweedle-dee of the fiddle gay - That leads to the dance on a holiday;-- - Followed his dreams and his memories, - Whirled with the sleeping speed of wheels, - Flew on the eager wings of the breeze, - Doubting of naught that his foolish heart feels, - Sure that the country of Do-as-you-please, - If any such ever is found upon earth, - Is the home of our mother, the land of our birth. - - - - - COFFEA ARABICA. - - - More entrancing than aroma - From the Hindu sacred soma, - Comes a fragrant - Essence vagrant - Floating up - From my quaint Zumpango cup, - Incense rare, - Evanescent steam ascending, - Curling, wavering, fading, blending, - Vanishing in viewless air. - Let me sip and dream and sing - Musing many an idle thing, - Let me sing and dream and sip - Making many an fancied trip - Far away and far away - Over ocean, gulf and bay - To islands whence the spicy wind - Breathes languor on the tropic sea, - To sultry strands of teeming Ind, - To coasts of torrid Araby, - To realms no Boreal breath may chill, - Like rich Brazil, - Or Jabal’s clouded hill on hill, - Or warm Bulgosa’s valley low, - To zones where Summer splendors glow, - Where seasons never come or go, - Where coffee trees perpetual blow. - - While I drowse and dream and sip, - Sailing, sailing slides a ship - Over the glittering sea, - Measuring leagues of night and day, - Bearing and bringing to me, - Bringing from far away, away, - The pale green magical berry, - The seed of the virtuous cherry, - The bean of the blossom divine! - Bringing from over the brine, - Bringing from Demarara, - From balsamy San Pará, - Bringing from Trans-Sahara, - From hoard of the Grand Bashaw, - Or redolent chests of Menelek, - An Abyssinian cargo - Richer than freight of Argo, - Treasured in garners under the deck, - Bringing and bearing for me - The gift of the coffee tree! - Better than blood of the Spanish vine, - Or ruddy or amber wine of the Rhine; - Bearing the bean of the blessed tree! - Better than bousa or sake fine, - Or sampan loads of oolong tea, - Souchong, twankay, or bohea,-- - Bringing the virtuous bean divine, - The coffee-tree cherry, - The magical berry, - More entrancing than aroma - From the Hindu sacred soma. - - - - - AN INDIA SHAWL. - - - This dainty shawl an Eastern shuttle wove, - Where Ravee stream winds sunward from Cashmere; - By nimble gold ’twas borne around the sphere - For one who gave it me in friendly love. - To rival nature’s hues the weaver strove, - For beauty’s sake and not barbaric show; - Behold, commingled here, elusive glow - The brilliant, innocent dyes of field and grove. - This silk soft web was never merchandise; - A charm of peerless art proclaims it rare,-- - A sumptuous robe that Majesty would prize, - And India’s British Empress well might wear; - ’Tis mine for thee within whose beaming eyes - I see love’s India, O my queenly Fair! - - - - - APOLOGY. - - - Full well my loyal heart remembers - The vow of rapture’s lavish tongue, - For thee to smother grief’s Decembers - In joy’s June roses and make over - The world;--how easily, fond lover, - Could I when life and hope were young. - - When troth-plight had begemmed thy finger - Unhappiness should cease to be; - No shape of care near thee should linger; - Exultant, I, thy love to guerdon, - Would weep thy tears and bear thy burden, - Yea, purchase thy Gethsemane. - - For thee should hemlock turn to honey, - Thy hand, unhurt, the thorn might hold, - Darkness should light thee, and the sunny - Celestial days, triumphal, singing - Around the globe, should bless thee, bringing - Anew to earth the Age of Gold. - - Thy beauty and thy grace to glory, - Would I inweave thy golden name - In shining weft of song and story; - Would I, on love’s heroic mission, - Ascend the sunned peak of ambition - To pluck the Alpine flower, fame. - - O season of delirious passion! - What knew or recked my spirit then - Of deeds in less transcendent fashion - Than youth’s high drama realizes - In visions, dreams, and enterprises, - That lift to godhood mortal men! - - Naught is impossible to Heaven, - Nor to the puissance of youth! - Imagination’s quickening leaven - Works in the pulsing brain and being - Till every sense hath second-seeing - And all that should be true is truth. - - O glorious falsehood and illusion! - Call not the lover’s transports lies: - The white light of his heart in fusion - Makes visible the far ideal, - Only the low earth is unreal, - Secure the lover walks the skies. - - I trod with thee the starry spaces, - I told the only tale I knew; - We dwelt in spirit, not in places, - And, if the promises then spoken,-- - Be witness, O my God!--were broken, - The promising was heavenly true. - - - - - UNRECONCILED. - - - When winter’s loom of cloud - Weaves robes of snow - To wrap the hills in shroud, - My meditations go - Where shuddering tempests blow - Above a little grave. - - When spring’s pale wild-flowers wake - Where sunbeams play, - Must not my full heart break? - Birds, blossoms, come with May,-- - Would that, some happy day, - My child could come again. - - When air-built cloud-fleets sail - Blue summer’s sky, - And violets exhale - Their fragrant souls and die, - My soul lifts Rachel’s cry, - For, oh! the child is not. - - Most mournful time of all - Is when the leaf - Fades, withering to its fall, - Ending its term so brief, - Like him, my joy, my grief, - Lost in the senseless grave. - - The new moons come and go, - Stars rise and set, - Time’s healing waters flow - Across my wound, and yet - Grief cannot pay love’s debt;-- - Love’s solace is to mourn. - - - - - ANNIVERSARY. - - - This is your birthday, dearest? Dearest wife, - Fond sweetheart of my youth and of my prime, - Lover and friend and comrade, in whose life - I live unconscious of the flight of time! - - Three-score? and must we grant it so? Why, then - Thank Heaven we have tasted life thus long, - For life is rich, and shall grow sweeter when - Like mellowing wine age renders it less strong. - - We shall grow old together, count the years, - Welcome each sunrise and each setting sun; - Together laugh our laugh or weep our tears, - Wait, act and suffer, till the sands be run. - - I owned Golconda and the Coast of Pearl, - Being a boy--it was but yesterday; - One shared my fortune, giving hers--one girl-- - Whither, my darling, fled youth’s dream away? - - Where are the morning and the wealth of spring? - Gone with the air-built castle--vanished, gone! - The dew of youth went sunward, and the wing - Is broken now that soared at golden dawn. - - It is too late for riches, land and gold; - Too late to pluck the flaming rose of power; - My hands have bled to gather what they hold-- - Buds of dead hope--ambition’s phantom flower. - - Yet all I am I dedicate to you, - As on our spousal morning, Love, and bring - This heart-born offering to pledge anew, - In Autumn song, the promises of Spring. - - - - - AMAUROTE. - - - Safe in towery Amaurote - Now I dwell; - From the tumbling sea my boat, - Like a bell of foam afloat, - Up Anyder’s refluent stream - Voyaged well; - And I woke unto a dream - Realized in realm remote - Of Utopia. - - Whiles my eudæmonian guide - Thrummed her lyre, - Charmful o’er the billows wide, - In the distance I espied - Gleam of opalescent dome, - Golden spire; - Then my soul foreknew its home - Far beyond the roaring tide, - In Utopia! - - All was sooth as poets old - Gave renown; - All that seers and sages told, - Fabling of an Age of Gold;-- - Towery Amaurote was there, - Blissful town! - Far away from everywhere, - Flushed with rosy light, behold! - In Utopia. - - Visioned splendor reared from naught - Rose sublime; - Art and Beauty thither brought - All Imagination taught - Of the mystery of Man - And of Time; - Wisdom, smiling on the plan, - Bade the wonderwork be wrought, - In Utopia! - - Have I eaten of the lote - So its spell - Laps and lulls me to devote - Hours Lethean, far remote - From the dreadful things that be? - Nay, I dwell - Where o’er dream-deeps Poesie - Sang me, in a foam-bell boat, - To Utopia. - - - THE END - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAGA OF THE OAK, AND OTHER POEMS *** - -***** This file should be named 64148-0.txt or 64148-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/1/4/64148/ - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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Venable</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Saga of the oak, and other poems</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: William H. Venable</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 27, 2020 [eBook #64148]</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Charlene Taylor, Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div> -<div style='margin-top:2em;margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAGA OF THE OAK, AND OTHER POEMS ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" height="550" alt="[The image -of the book's cover is unavailable.]" /> -</div> -<div class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/frontis.jpg"> -<img src="images/frontis.jpg" height="550" alt="[Image unavailable.]" /></a> -<br /> -<span class="caption">W. H. Venable.</span> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i">{i}</a></span> </p> -<div class="bbox"> -<div class="bboxx"> -<h1> -<img src="images/sga.png" -width="60%" -alt="Saga of the Oak" -/><br /> -<small>AND OTHER POEMS</small></h1> -</div> - -<div class="bboxx"> -<p class="c"> <br />BY<br /> -WILLIAM H. VENABLE<br /><br /> -<img src="images/colophon.png" -width="35%" -alt="" /> -<br /><br /></p> -</div> - -<div class="bboxx"> -<p class="c">NEW YORK<br /> -<img src="images/dod.png" -width="60%" -alt="Dodd, Mead & Company" -/><br /> -1904</p></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ii" id="page_ii">{ii}</a></span> </p> - -<p class="c">Copyright, 1884, 1893, by <span class="smcap">W. H. Venable</span><br /> -Copyright, 1904, by <span class="smcap">Dodd, Mead and Company</span><br /> -<br /> -Published April, 1904<br /><br /> -BURR PRINTING HOUSE<br /> -NEW YORK</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iii" id="page_iii">{iii}</a></span> </p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a><i>CONTENTS</i></h2> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="3" cellspacing="0" summary=""> -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt"><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#SAGA_OF_THE_OAK">SAGA OF THE OAK</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#A_DIAMOND">A DIAMOND</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_8">8</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#MY_CATBIRD">MY CATBIRD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_9">9</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_TUNES_DAN_HARRISON_USED_TO_PLAY">THE TUNES DAN HARRISON USED TO PLAY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_12">12</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#FAIRYLAND">FAIRYLAND</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_14">14</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#SUMMER_LOVE">SUMMER LOVE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_17">17</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#CLOVER_HILL">CLOVER HILL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_19">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_WEDDING_DEFERRED">THE WEDDING DEFERRED</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_21">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#TO_THE_LITTLE_MIAMI_RIVER">TO THE LITTLE MIAMI RIVER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_23">23</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#IMMORTAL_BIRDSONG">IMMORTAL BIRD SONG</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_25">25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#HINCHMANS_MILL">HINCHMAN’S MILL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_27">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#VICTOR">VICTOR</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_30">30</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_LAST_FLIGHT">THE LAST FLIGHT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_33">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#A_GENTLE_MAN">A GENTLE MAN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_36">36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#INVIOLATE">INVIOLATE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_38">38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#FAITH">FAITH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_40">40</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#PLATO">PLATO</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_41">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#DANTE">DANTE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_42">42</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#WAGNERS_KAISER_MARCH">WAGNER’S KAISER MARCH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_43">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#DEFOE_IN_THE_PILLORY">DEFOE IN THE PILLORY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_44">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#WE_THE_PEOPLE">WE THE PEOPLE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_46">46</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#EIGHTY-SEVEN">EIGHTY-SEVEN</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_49">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_FOUNDERS_OF_OHIO">THE FOUNDERS OF OHIO</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_50">50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#FOREST_SONG">THE FOREST SONG</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_52">52</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#A_BALLAD_OF_OLD_KENTUCKY">A BALLAD OF OLD KENTUCKY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_54">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_iv" id="page_iv">{iv}</a></span><a href="#JOHN_FILSON">JOHN FILSON</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_57">57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#JOHNNY_APPLESEED">JOHNNY APPLESEED</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_62">62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#WENDING_WESTWARD">WENDING WESTWARD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_68">68</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_TEACHERS_DREAM">THE TEACHER’S DREAM</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_71">71</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#BY_THEIR_FRUITS">BY THEIR FRUITS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_75">75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#PESTALOZZI">PESTALOZZI</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_76">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THERE_IS_NO_CASTE_IN_BLOOD">“THERE IS NO CASTE IN BLOOD”</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_80">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#VIVA_LA_GUERRA">VIVA LA GUERRA</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_82">82</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#BATTLE_CRY">BATTLE CRY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_84">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#EL_EMPLAZADO">EL EMPLAZADO</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_86">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#NATIONAL_SONG">NATIONAL SONG</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_88">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#RIGHT_OF_MIGHT">THE RIGHT OF MIGHT</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_90">90</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#JAMES_E_MURDOCH">JAMES E. MURDOCH</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_92">92</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_CONCORD_SEER">THE CONCORD SEER</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_95">95</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_POET_OF_CLOVERNOOK">THE POET OF CLOVERNOOK</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_97">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_GREENFIELD_WIZARD">THE GREENFIELD WIZARD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_99">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#WILLIAM_BAIRD_OF_RIDGEVILLE">WILLIAM BAIRD OF RIDGEVILLE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#LETS_SHAKE">LET’S SHAKE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#A_WELCOME_TO_BOZ">A WELCOME TO BOZ</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_107">107</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_BOOK_AUCTION">THE BOOK AUCTION</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_109">109</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#A_GIFT_ACKNOWLEDGED">A GIFT ACKNOWLEDGED</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_111">111</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_OLD_HOMESTEAD">THE OLD HOMESTEAD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_113">113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#JENNIE_MOORE">JENNIE MOORE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_115">115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#ASHES">ASHES</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_116">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#POSY">POSY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_117">117</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#A_SNOW_BIRD">A SNOW BIRD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_119">119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_UPSET">THE UPSET</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_121">121</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_SCHOOL_GIRL">THE SCHOOL GIRL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_122">122</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#THE_READERS">THE READERS</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_125">125</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#WAG">WAG</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_126">126</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#DONATELLO">DONATELLO</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_129">129</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_v" id="page_v">{v}</a></span><a href="#GABRIEL_OF_SCHWARTZENWALD">GABRIEL OF SCHWARTZENWALD</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_131">131</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#COFFEA_ARABICA">COFFEA ARABICA</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_137">137</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#AN_INDIA_SHAWL">AN INDIA SHAWL</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_140">140</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#APOLOGY">APOLOGY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_141">141</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#UNRECONCILED">UNRECONCILED</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_144">144</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#ANNIVERSARY">ANNIVERSARY</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_146">146</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td valign="top" class="pdd"><a href="#AMAUROTE">AMAUROTE</a></td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#page_148">148</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_vi" id="page_vi">{vi}</a></span> </p> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span> </p> -<h1><i>SAGA OF THE OAK</i></h1> - -<h2><a name="SAGA_OF_THE_OAK" id="SAGA_OF_THE_OAK"></a>SAGA OF THE OAK.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>OARSELY to the midnight moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voiced the oak his rugged rune:<br /></span> -<span class="iq">“Harken, sibyl Moon, to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear the saga of the Tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Thou, O queen of splendor, must<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale and crumble back to dust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through slow eons diest thou,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doomsday craves my vitals now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“I am scion of a line<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old, imperial, divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth produced my ancestor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere great Odin was, or Thor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“From the hursts of holy oak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fateful gods of Asgard spoke;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the consecrated shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bard and Druid sang and prayed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Fostered in an oaken womb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slept Trifingus, sword of doom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therewith woaded Caratak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drave the steel-sarked Roman back.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Where, profaned by legioned foes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the shuddering forest rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mona’s altars flaming rud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Britain drowned her woe in blood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Then the dread decree of Norn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sounded in the groves forlorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vikings swooping from the North<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Harried every scaur and forth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Forests fell with crash and roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Masted galiots spurned the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dragon-breasted,—swum the meer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daring danger, scouting fear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Hengist’s brood and Horsa’s kin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seed of Garmund, sons of Finn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dane and Saxon sail and sweep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Battling o’er the wrathful deep;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Hearts of oak! their valor gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Right of might to rule the wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave to Nelson’s ocean war<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Copenhagen, Trafalgar!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Bray of trumpet! roll of drum!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When shall Balder’s kingdom come?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bitter sap shall when grow sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the acorn at my feet?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Centuries do I stand here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking thoughts profound and drear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming solemn dreams sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the mysteries of Time.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Roots of mine do feed on graves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have eaten bones of braves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the ground the learnéd gnomes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Read to me their cryptic tomes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Annals treasured in the air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the past to me declare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every wind of heaven brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tribute for me on its wings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Through my silence proud and lone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whispers waft from the Unknown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Musing eld hath second ken—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moon! the dead shall live again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Sun-scorch have I borne, and pangs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the gnaw of winter’s fangs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fought tornadoes, nor forsook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roothold when the mountains shook.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Oft the zig-zag thunder hath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Struck me with his fiery scath,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To my core the havoc sped,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I never bowed my head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“I am weary of the years;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Overthrown are all my peers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slain by steel or storm or flame,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would perish too—the same.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Yet shall I a little space<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Linger still in life’s embrace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere metempsychosing time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drag me down to Niflheim.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Wherefore shun or summon fate?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wisest they who sanely wait;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my fiber nature saith,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life is good and good is death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Mated birds of procreant Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my branches build and sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grass is green and flowers bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I spread my golden gloom;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Happy children round me play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plighted lovers near me stray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Insects chirping in the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrill me with obscure delight;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Circling seasons as they run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Couriers of the lavish sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dower me with treasure lent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By each potent element;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Ministers to me the whole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Zonéd globe from pole to pole;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my buds and blossoms beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pulses from the central heat;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span>—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Everything is part of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Firmament and moving sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I of all that is am part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stone and star and human heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Primal Cause etern, self-wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Majesty transcending thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This my substance and my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Origin, desire, and goal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Through creation’s vasty range<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blows the winter blast of change;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaf-like from the Life-Tree whirled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">World shall rot on ruined world.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Hail, inexorable hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fraught with clysmian wrack and stour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Welcome, transmutation’s course<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the cosmic rage of Force.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Yond the atomed universe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now we gather, now disperse,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto darkling chaos tost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back from the chaos—nothing lost.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Forth abysmal voids of death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resurrection issueth:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flaming ether, quickened clod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bodying new forms of God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="iq">“Harken, Moon!—When I am gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, re-born, shall burgeon on;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out thine ashes shall arise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Other Thou, to ride the skies.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Spake no more the hoary oak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No response the wan moon spoke;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the poet who had heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pondered the Dodonian word.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_DIAMOND" id="A_DIAMOND"></a>A DIAMOND.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">U</span>PON the breast of senseless earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This precious sparkling stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A jewel of Golconda’s worth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sovran beauty shone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lady for a moment bore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gem upon her brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A moment on her bosom wore:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis worth the Orient now.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MY_CATBIRD" id="MY_CATBIRD"></a>MY CATBIRD.<br /><br /> -<small>A CAPRICCIO.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">N</span>IGHTINGALE I never heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the skylark, poet’s bird;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But there is an æther-winger<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So surpasses every singer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Though unknown to lyric fame,)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That at morning, or at nooning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I hear his pipe a-tuning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down I fling Keats, Shelley, Wordsworth,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What are all their songs of birds worth?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All their soaring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Souls’ outpouring?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When my Mimus Carolinensis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(That’s his Latin name,)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When my warbler wild commences<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Song’s hilarious rhapsody,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just to please himself and me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Primo Cantante!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scherzo! Andante!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Piano, pianissimo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presto, prestissimo!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! are there nine birds or ninety and nine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now a miraculous gurgling gushes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like nectar from Hebe’s Olympian bottle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The laughter of tune from a rapturous throttle!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such melody must be a hermit-thrush’s!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that other caroler, nearer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outrivaling rivalry with clearer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweetness incredibly fine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it oriole, redbird, or bluebird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or some strange, un-Auduboned new bird?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All one, sir, both this bird and that bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole flight are all the same catbird!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whole visible and invisible choir you see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On one lithe twig of yon green tree.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flitting, feathery Blondel!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listen to his rondel!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his lay romantical!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his sacred canticle!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear him lilting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See him tilting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His saucy head and tail, and fluttering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While uttering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the difficult operas under the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just for fun;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in tipsy revelry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or at love devilry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, disdaining his divine gift and art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like an inimitable poet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who captivates the world’s heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And don’t know it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear him lilt!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See him tilt!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then suddenly he stops,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peers about, flirts, hops,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if looking where he might gather up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wasted ecstasy just spilt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the quivering cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his bliss overrun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, as in mockery of all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tuneful spells that e’er did fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From vocal pipe, or evermore shall rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He snarls, and mews, and flies.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TUNES_DAN_HARRISON_USED_TO_PLAY" id="THE_TUNES_DAN_HARRISON_USED_TO_PLAY"></a>THE TUNES DAN HARRISON USED TO PLAY.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>FTTIMES when recollections throng<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Serenely back from childhood years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awaking thoughts that slumbered long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Compelling smiles or starting tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The music of a violin<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Seems through my window floating in,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I think I hear from far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tunes Dan Harrison used to play.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dan Harrison! I see him there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside the roaring winter hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fiddling away all mundane care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His genial face aglow with mirth;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And when he laid his bow aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“Well done! well done!” he cheerly cried;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well done, well done, indeed were they,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tunes Dan Harrison used to play.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do not know what tunes he played,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I cannot name one melody;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His instrument was never made<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In old Cremona, o’er the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet from its chords his raptured skill<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Drew magic strains my soul to thrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some ah so mournful, some so gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tunes Dan Harrison used to play.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have been witness to the art<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of many a master of the bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But none have power to charm the heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like him I listened long ago;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love stole on tiptoe through my trance<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To welcome dream-eyed young Romance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Responsive to the passioned sway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tunes Dan Harrison used to play.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now with the music, as it floats,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seraphic harping faintly blends;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I catch amid the mingling notes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Familiar voices of old friends;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While choral echoes sweetly fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of yearning love angelical,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And melt, like trembling tears, away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tunes Dan Harrison used to play.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FAIRYLAND" id="FAIRYLAND"></a>FAIRYLAND.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> SECRET glen engirt by hills serene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleeps in rich gloom of summer boscage green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its dreamy dells, in solemn twilight hush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Echo dulce warblings of the hermit-thrush;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kist by young May, the windflower trembles there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frail dicentra breathes the dainty air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The haunt beseems for elfin revels planned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so the children call it Fairyland.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A silvern rill, loved by the watercress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds purling through this drowsy wilderness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suckling the willow, snowy-corymbed haw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vain-flaunting redbud, indolent pawpaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suave linden, and gay buckeye brimming free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His nectar cups to lure the drunken bee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aloof, in coats of pearl-green armor, stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three sycamores, to guard the Fairyland.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The busy grapevine o’er the coppice weaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cunning mesh of interlacing leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereon adventurous urchins clamber high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With giddy shout saluting the blue sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or loll in golden sunshine baptismal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inhaling balm of buds ambrosial,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, by hilarious breezes rocked and fanned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through loops of verdure gaze from Fairyland.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere dies on heaven’s breast the morning star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All unsubstantial, visionary, far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In opalescent vapor loom the glades,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dawn-rosy domes, dim grottoes and arcades,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of yon enchanted dingles of the fay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold! transmuted in the sheen of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By aureolar rays of Iris spanned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bower of dewdrops, glitters Fairyland!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When dusk descends, the eerie host delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As twinkling fireflies to bestar the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then melancholy tree-toads shrill the throat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chirring crickets chime an irksome note;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flits the lean bat the timorous wren to fray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The muffled screech-owl hurtles on his prey;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For evil wings a gruesome hour command,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though holy stars keep watch o’er Fairyland.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All demonkind, or wicked, null, or good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lurk in the hollows of the sprightful wood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There murk fogs drop distillings of the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weird moon plies her midnight witchery;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time slumbers there; there Love and Beauty sport;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Death holds there his grim, fantastic court;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No ghost may blab, no mortal understand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mystic wonders of our Fairyland.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SUMMER_LOVE" id="SUMMER_LOVE"></a>SUMMER LOVE.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> KNOW ’tis late, but let me stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For night is tenderer than day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet love, dear love, I cannot go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds in leafy hiding sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrill katydids their vigil keep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woodbine breathes a fragrance rare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the dewy languid air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fireflies twinkle in the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The river looms in moonshine pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look! a meteor’s dreamy light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Streams mystic down the solemn night!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, life glides swift, like that still fire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How soon our throbbing joys expire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who can be sure the present kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is not his last? Make all of this.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know ’tis late, sweet love, I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fantastic mist obscurely fills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hollows of Kentucky hills;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heardst thou? I heard or fear I heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vague twitters of some wakeful bird;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wingéd hours are swift indeed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why makes the jealous morn such speed?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This rose thou wearst may I not take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For passionate remembrance’ sake?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Press with thy lips its crimson heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, blushing rose, we must depart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rose cannot return a kiss—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I pay its due with this, and this;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars grow faint, they soon will die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But love faints not nor fails.—Good-bye!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unhappy joy—delicious pain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We part in love, we meet again!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good-bye!—the morning dawns—I go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear love, sweet love, I love thee so.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CLOVER_HILL" id="CLOVER_HILL"></a>CLOVER HILL.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>N the brow of Clover Hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stands a maiden gazing out<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the purple twilight still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Half in rapture, half in doubt;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the heavens Venus glistens,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">While the maiden looks and listens.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the brow of Clover Hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deeper gloaming shadows fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moans the plaintive whippowill;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lonesome is the cricket’s call;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the heavens Venus glistens,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Far the maiden looks and listens.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the brow of Clover Hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lingering she fondly sighs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Anxious fears her bosom fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tears bedew her mournful eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the heavens Venus glistens,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Still the maiden looks and listens.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Footsteps! hark! On Clover Hill!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faring nearer and more near!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearts ecstatic throb and thrill!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“War is over! He is here!”<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the zenith Venus glistens,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lovers kiss and Heaven listens.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_WEDDING_DEFERRED" id="THE_WEDDING_DEFERRED"></a>THE WEDDING DEFERRED.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">C</span>OMPLAINING flow the waters slow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the valley green and low;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lilies dight in virgin white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Float fragrant in the ardent light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to the gossip ripples say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“It is the Day!—is’t not the Day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When comes the bridal train this way?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yon amethystine hill-top kist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By lingering enamored mist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hears in the sky warm zephyrs sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wooing clouds that dally by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wandering whispers seem to say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Is’t not the Day?—it is the Day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why comes no bridal train this way?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forlorn of mood, by love pursued,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A youth laments in solitude;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brown dove’s eyes soft sympathize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With him and to her mate she cries,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">“What can the glad espousals stay?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is the Day!—is’t not the Day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet comes no bridal train this way.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O laggard moon, arise full soon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swim to night’s auspicious noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The star-sea ride and swiftly glide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From eventide to eventide,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whirl through a month, that I may say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“It <i>is</i> the Day! It <i>is</i> the Day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now comes the bridal train this way!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TO_THE_LITTLE_MIAMI_RIVER" id="TO_THE_LITTLE_MIAMI_RIVER"></a>TO THE LITTLE MIAMI RIVER.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">R</span>OMANTIC the rocky and fern-scented regions,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Miami, the grots where thy rambles begin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By cedars and hemlocks, in evergreen legions,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With silence and twilight seclusion shut in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There darkling recesses in miniature mountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Recall to my fancy the haunts of the gnome;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There fabled Undina might rise from the fountains,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or sport in the waterfalls’ glistening foam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now laughing in ripples and dancing the sedges,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now fretting the minnows in eddy and whirl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now kissing the pebbles that sprinkle thy edges,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laving the pearl and the mother-of-pearl;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glide, whispering now under sycamore shadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now singing by hamlet and cottage and mill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now shimmering onward through flowery meadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now glassing the image of foresty hill.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The farm boy, as careless he follows the harrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er lowlands which quicken and ripen the maize,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reads oft in some token of stone,—axe or arrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wars and the loves of unchronicled days.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then steals on the air with thy murmuring numbers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A moan of lament for a race and its lore,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sigh for yon chieftain forgotten, who slumbers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the lone mound on thy emerald shore.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="IMMORTAL_BIRDSONG" id="IMMORTAL_BIRDSONG"></a>IMMORTAL BIRDSONG.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT though mine ear hath never heard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wing’d voice of the sky?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor listened to the love-lorn bird<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose plaints in darkness die?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The poets improvise for me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lark-notes that never fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make more sweet than sound can be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The song of nightingale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From rapt Alastor’s lyric leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joy’s flying carol springs!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On darkling pinion sorrow grieves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Adonais sings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I list the lavrock warbling clear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In birks of bonny Doon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bulbul’s swooning voice I hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the Persian moon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear across the centuries<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What Philomela sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Attic groves, to Sophocles,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Poesie was young.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HINCHMANS_MILL" id="HINCHMANS_MILL"></a>HINCHMAN’S MILL.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>ONELY by Miami stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gray in twilight’s fading beam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spectral, desolate and still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smitten by the storms of years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! how changed to me appears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yonder long-deserted mill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While the ruin I behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mossy roof and gable old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shadowy mid obscuring trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Memory’s vision, quick and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time’s long vista gazing through,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unseen pictures dimly sees.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sees upon the garner floor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wheat and maize in golden store,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Powdery whiteness everywhere,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees a miller short and stout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whistling cheerfully about,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Making merry with his care.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pleased, he listens to the whirr<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the swift-revolving burr,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deeming brief each busy hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a stream of finest snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sifting to the bin below,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fall the tiny flakes of flour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once my childish feet were led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down some furtive way of dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through yon broken floor to peer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the fearful waters drift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a current dark and swift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flying from the angry weir.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once, with timid step and soft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stealthily I climbed aloft,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up and up the highest stair;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Iron cogs were rumbling round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every vague and awful sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mocked and mumbled at me there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wonder if those wheels remain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And would frighten me again?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wonder if the miller’s dead?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wonder if his ghost at night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haunts the stairs, a phantom white?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Walks the loft with hollow tread?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Spectral, desolate and still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stands the solitary mill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Close beside the gliding stream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkness overtakes the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suddenly the day is done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of Time and Death I dream.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VICTOR" id="VICTOR"></a>VICTOR.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN June exhaled her rose-sweet breath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And earth in sunshine smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untimely came intrusive Death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stole away our child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As some fast-fading star declines,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dissolving in the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As wastes the dewdrop while it shines,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So did our darling die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, fairer than the violet frail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frost-slain on April’s breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And purer than the lily pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The babe’s unbreathing rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our eyes grew numb with tearless woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Prayer swooned upon the tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As to his lips of smiling snow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our anguished kisses clung.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O hapless Victor, name of pride!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear hands, poor little feet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No thorn ye found, no path ye tried;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O envious winding sheet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Most mournful change and utter loss!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Return, my child, return!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, angels, guide my faith across<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The grave his state to learn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oh, grant me from the vast unknown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some breath of solacing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit! whither has it flown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On timorous alien wing?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All silent is the cruel sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The saints no pity lend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lamentation and my cry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To heedless void ascend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My heart, my weeping, bleeding heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wails at the door of fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And faints in darkness and apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bereft and desolate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I only find, wher’er I grope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A cradle and a pall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Find, at the gloomy verge of hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A grave—and that is all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An empty cradle and a lone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Small mound of chilly sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er which I bow and vainly moan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To move the heart of God.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_LAST_FLIGHT" id="THE_LAST_FLIGHT"></a>THE LAST FLIGHT.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>O, in my path<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A frozen songbird lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A victim of the sky’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind, elemental wrath.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stolid year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall not in me repress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The impulsive tenderness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That moves a pitying tear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life’s flutter o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy quavering heart, now still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more shall throb and thrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall love and fear no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For thee in vain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall Spring array the woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In nest-safe neighborhoods:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou canst not build again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Did instinct fail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, from the Boreal rack,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Athwart thy migrant track<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hurtled the ruthless gale?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A cruel nest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The feather-mocking snows!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">And ah, what gasping throes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Assailed thy dying breast!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wing-spent, alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Adrift from every mate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flung down by baffling fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou froze to the Unknown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How saith the Word?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Does He who governs all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take notice of the fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forlorn, of thee, poor bird?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And is it so<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His awful love divine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Provides for me and mine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When frore the tempests blow?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mute traveler, say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How fare we when we die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And whither do we fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the unseen way?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vain questionings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In death’s bleak eddy whirled!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What heeds the other world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My broken, bleeding wings?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is life no more?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is death the final doom?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or shall the soul replume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her flight and sing and soar?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea, surely, He<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who melts my love to tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For this dead songster, hears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pities mine and me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His love must know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our sorrow, and will lift<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our numbed lives from the drift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of death’s all-hushing snow.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_GENTLE_MAN" id="A_GENTLE_MAN"></a>A GENTLE MAN.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> KNEW a gentle Man;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas! his soul has flown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now that his tender heart is still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale anguish haunts my own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His eye, in pity’s tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would often saintly swim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He did to others as he would<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That they should do to him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He suffered many things,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Renounced, forgave, forbore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sorrow’s crown of thorny stings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like Christ, he meekly wore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At rural toils he strove;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In beauty, joy he sought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His solace was in children’s words<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wise men’s pondered thought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was both meek and brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not haughty, and yet proud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He daily died his soul to save,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ne’er to Mammon bowed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">E’en as a little child<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He entered Heaven’s Gate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I caught his parting smile, which said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Be reconciled, and wait.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="INVIOLATE" id="INVIOLATE"></a>INVIOLATE.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>E took a walk in Winter woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My little lad and I,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hills and hollows all were pearl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sapphire all the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Before guerilla winds we saw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The skurrying drift retreat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We thought of budded roots that lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Asleep beneath our feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We spoke of how, last year, in May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One sunny bank we found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where wind-flowers stood in fairy crowds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To charm the gladdened ground.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A subtle feeling checked the boy,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His small hand held me back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mute appeal that we should tread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wood-path’s beaten track.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“My child, ’tis pleasanter to break<br /></span> -<span class="i2">New pathways as we go.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, “I do not like to spoil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The beauty of the snow.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FAITH" id="FAITH"></a>FAITH.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE spreading circle of the known<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Science strives to bound with laws<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is but a glowing sparkle thrown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From God, the radiant central cause.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His mystery is vaster far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than knowledge is or e’er can be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wheel of Evolution’s car<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rolls onward through eternity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A stilly voice forever sounds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lapses of our doubt between:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Seek not to give Religion bounds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor limit Faith by forces seen.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PLATO" id="PLATO"></a>PLATO.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>THENIAN prophet of the soaring mind!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What new lamp burns so brightly as his old?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He changed Philosophy from dross to gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By poet’s alchemy; and he combined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Egypt and Ind and the Hellenic States<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all the knowledge Cadmus’ letters hold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Logic’s crucible to be refined;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He opened Speculation’s splendid gates<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Western ways where Science after trod;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A reign of sweeter Ethics he foretold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Renouncing Zeus for a diviner God;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, unaffrighted by the awful Fates,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In starry sandals of Religion shod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From pagan darkness Plato led mankind.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DANTE" id="DANTE"></a>DANTE.<br /><br /> -<small>AFTER READING “PARADISO.”</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>IS sacred Muse, on soaring rapture’s wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aspired the radiant empyrean high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bore to earth the splendor of the sky!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Durante’s spirit to my senses brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The excessive beauty of transcendent things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thrill imagination’s ear and eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With joy I hear the blissful carolings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of angel hosts in robes of dazzling white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul partakes the poet’s ecstasy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all my meditation and my prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steals reminiscence of the Stream of Light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of the Rose unutterably fair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And O! the threefold glory of The One,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Love that moves the circling stars and sun!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WAGNERS_KAISER_MARCH" id="WAGNERS_KAISER_MARCH"></a>WAGNER’S KAISER MARCH.<br /><br /> -<small>TO THEODORE THOMAS.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT diapasons from the hush profound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy magic wand, O Master, summons forth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To laud imperial Kaiser, robed and crowned!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail! multitudinous music of the North!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Titanic Wagner’s soul informs the sound!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ho! instruments triumphant, trump and drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cymbal clanging where the troopers come!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Gothic valor now is set to score;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear the tramp of Saxon thought unbound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The victor’s cry, disdaining death or wound,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear the saber ring, the cannon roar!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is the throbbing tune for Halfred’s rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The symphony of glorious war sublime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Valhalla’s martial joy forevermore!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DEFOE_IN_THE_PILLORY" id="DEFOE_IN_THE_PILLORY"></a>DEFOE IN THE PILLORY.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">O</span>N to the Pillory, ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To punish bold Daniel Defoe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come on to the place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of shame and disgrace!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring rose-garlands sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cast at his feet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill glasses! Fill, ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here’s to Daniel Defoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On to the Pillory, ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To punish bold Daniel Defoe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His fate he has earned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His book we have burned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That its soul may fly forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">East, west, south and north!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, trumpeter, blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here’s to Daniel Defoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On to the Pillory, ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To punish bold Daniel Defoe!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shout him greeting full loud!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing his praise to the crowd!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sentries may swear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But what do we care?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More roses we’ll throw!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here’s to Daniel Defoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On to the Pillory, ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To punish rogue Daniel Defoe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pelt him, maidens and men!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For he thinks with a pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his thought is too free!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God bless him! See! See!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill glasses! Fill, ho!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here’s to Daniel Defoe!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WE_THE_PEOPLE" id="WE_THE_PEOPLE"></a>WE THE PEOPLE.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>E the People, not the Crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not the surplice nor the brand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noble’s crest nor schoolman’s gown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burse nor rostrum, grange nor town,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We the People rule our land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We the People, not the Few,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High nor low nor middle class,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High and low and middle too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Freemen, he and I and you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We the multitude, the mass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dumb we plodded feudal years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Goaded by the lash of scorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Groaning, wept a sea of tears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! at last our day appears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dawn of the millennial morn!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Asia deemed our woe decreed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brahm nor Buddha heard our cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Europe heard with sullen heed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prince and Pontiff mocked our need,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Making Christ a bitter lie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Demagogue nor Demigod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall again control the World;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Man</i> awoke! disdained the rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spurned the despot whip and prod,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the dust his rider hurled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Man has come unto his own;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Broken are his bands and bars;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faith’s futurity foreknown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Domes a sky of promise sown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thick with happy-omened stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Zealous, not iconoclast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We would spare the ancient true;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life in death is rooted fast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fruitage of the Past<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is the Passing,—is the New.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Azure blood and haughty crest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blazon of heraldic scroll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coin in coffer, star on breast,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are good, but better, best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is the rank, the wealth, of soul.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth grows better growing old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still by happier races trod;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plato’s iron men are gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Large humanities unfold;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Evolution’s law is—God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We the People, We the State,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Subject, Sovereign, both in one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trust in Highest Potentate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trust, O World, in Us and wait.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God has willed our will be done.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EIGHTY-SEVEN" id="EIGHTY-SEVEN"></a>EIGHTY-SEVEN.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>S a mighty heart in a giant’s breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With rhythmic beat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sends marching from brain to feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crimson vigor of creative blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, in the bosom of the brawny West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, in the stalwart breast of the Nation,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throbs the Great Ordinance,—a heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A vital and organic part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Propelling by its strong pulsation<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unremitting stream and flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wholesome influences that give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the body politic<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The elements and virtues quick<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereby Republics live.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_FOUNDERS_OF_OHIO" id="THE_FOUNDERS_OF_OHIO"></a>THE FOUNDERS OF OHIO.<br /><br /> -<small>APRIL, 1888.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE footsteps of a hundred years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have echoed, since o’er Braddock’s Road<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bold Putnam and the Pioneers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Led History the way they strode.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On wild Monongahela stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They launched the Mayflower of the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A perfect State their civic dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A new New World their pilgrim quest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When April robed the Buckeye trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Muskingum’s bosky shore they trod;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They pitched their tents and to the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flung freedom’s star-flag, thanking God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As glides the Oyo’s solemn flood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So fleeted their eventful years;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resurgent in their children’s blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They still live on—the Pioneers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their fame shrinks not to names and dates<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On votive stone, the prey of time;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold where monumental States<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Immortalize their lives sublime!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FOREST_SONG" id="FOREST_SONG"></a>FOREST SONG.</h2> - -<p class="c">Read at the first meeting of the American Forestry Congress, in Music Hall, Cincinnati, April 19, 1882.</p> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> SONG for the beautiful trees!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A song for the forest grand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Garden of God’s own hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pride of His centuries.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hurrah! for the kingly oak,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the maple, the sylvan queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the lords of the emerald cloak,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the ladies in golden green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the beautiful trees a song!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The peers of a glorious realm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The linden, the ash, and the elm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poplar stately and strong,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the birch and the hemlock trim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the hickory staunch at core,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the locust thorny and grim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the silvery sycamore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A song for the palm,—the pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And for every tree that grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the desolate zone of snows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the zone of the burning line;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hurrah! for the warders proud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the mountainside and the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That challenge the thunder-cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And buffet the stormy gale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A song for the forest, aisled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With its Gothic roof sublime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The solemn temple of Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where man becometh a child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he listens the anthem-roll<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the voiceful winds that call,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the solitude of his soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the name of the All-in-All.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So long as the rivers flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So long as the mountains rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May the foliage drink of the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shelter the flowers below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hurrah! for the beautiful trees!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hurrah! for the forest grand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pride of His centuries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Garden of God’s own hand.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_BALLAD_OF_OLD_KENTUCKY" id="A_BALLAD_OF_OLD_KENTUCKY"></a>A BALLAD OF OLD KENTUCKY.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>ELL, this is my story of Schoolmaster John,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And how, single-handed, he slew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A terrible monster, one May day, at dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When our staunch old Kentucky was new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full rude was the cabin, o’ershadowed by trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the Lexington school-children made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, Cadmus forbid that the shrewd A-B-C’s<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be lost in the tanglewood shade!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone sat the pedagogue, throned on a stool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Entranced by poetical lore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He waited and read, while the morning’s breath cool<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Floated in through the wide-open door.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bent over a magical page of the tome<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Vergil—how long ago!—wrote,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He mused of Æneas and Dido and Rome,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When a tiger-cat sprang at his throat!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fight, fight! John McKinney, or perish! He fought!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forgot was the Queen and her woe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He uttered no cry; of the children he thought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he grappled his terrible foe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now which shall be victor, the brute or the man?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hands battle against teeth and claws!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Survive the dread struggle the nature that can!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Savage might against letters and laws!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The beast by the master was throttled and crushed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On his desk, while its fangs stung his side;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the crimsoning rill from his pulses that gushed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The leaves of his Vergil were dyed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who fly to the rescue? Who scream with alarm?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Three scared little maidens! Then said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The schoolmaster, smiling, “No harm, dears, no harm!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have caught you a wild-cat;—it’s dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this is the story of pedagogue John<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Kentucky, and how it befell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, in the heroic old days that are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He did what he had to do, well.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God set him his task in the woods of the West<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To teach and to tame what was wild;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To give his heart’s love and the blood of his breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the good of the pioneer’s child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No story of Theseus or Hercules strong<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More beautiful is, nor so true;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meed of devotion to duty is song:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then pay John McKinney his due.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_FILSON" id="JOHN_FILSON"></a>JOHN FILSON.</h2> - -<p class="c">Matthias Denman, Robert Patterson and John Filson laid out the town of -Losantiville, now the city of Cincinnati, in 1788. Filson, schoolmaster -and surveyor, went out to explore the woods between the Miamis, but -never returned.</p> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">J</span>OHN Filson was a pedagogue—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A pioneer was he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not what his nation was<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor what his pedigree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tradition’s scanty records tell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But little of the man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save that he to the frontier came<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In immigration’s van.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps with phantoms of reform<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His busy fancy teemed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps of new Utopias<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hesperian he dreamed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">John Filson and companions bold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A frontier village planned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In forest wild, on sloping hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By fair Ohio’s strand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">John Filson from three languages<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With pedant skill did frame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The novel word Losantiville<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To be the new town’s name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Said Filson: “Comrades, hear my words:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere three-score years have flown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our town will be a city vast.”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loud laughed Bob Patterson.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still John exclaimed, with prophet-tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“A city fair and proud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Queen of Cities in the West!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mat Denman laughed aloud.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep in the wild and solemn woods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unknown to white man’s track,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">John Filson went, one autumn day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But nevermore came back.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He struggled through the solitude<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The inland to explore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with romantic pleasure traced<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Miami’s winding shore.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Across his path the startled deer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bounds to its shelter green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He enters every lonely vale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cavernous ravine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Too soon the murky twilight comes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The boding night-winds moan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bewildered wanders Filson, lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Exhausted, and alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By lurking foes his steps are dogged,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A yell his ear appalls!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A ghastly corpse, upon the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A murdered man, he falls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Indian, with instinctive hate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In him a herald saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of coming hosts of pioneers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The friends of light and law;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In him beheld the champion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of industries and arts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The founder of encroaching roads<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And great commercial marts;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The spoiler of the hunting-ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The plower of the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The builder of the Christian school<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of the house of God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so the vengeful tomahawk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">John Filson’s blood did spill,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit of the pedagogue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No tomahawk could kill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">John Filson had no sepulcher,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Except the wildwood dim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mournful voices of the air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made requiem for him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The druid trees their waving arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Uplifted o’er his head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon a pallid veil of light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon his visage spread.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rain and sun of many years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have worn his bones away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what he vaguely prophesied<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We realize today.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Losantiville, the prophet’s word,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The poet’s hope fulfils,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sits a stately Queen to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid her royal hills!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then come, ye pedagogues, and join<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sing a grateful lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him, the martyr pioneer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who led for you the way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And may my simple ballad be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A monument to save<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His name from blank oblivion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who never had a grave.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHNNY_APPLESEED" id="JOHNNY_APPLESEED"></a>JOHNNY APPLESEED.<br /><br /> -<small>A Ballad of the Old Northwest.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> MIDNIGHT cry appalls the gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The puncheon door is shaken:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Awake! arouse! and flee the doom!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Man, woman, child, awaken!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Your sky shall glow with fiery beams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before the morn breaks ruddy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scalpknife in the moonlight gleams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Athirst for vengeance bloody!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alarumed by the dreadful word<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some warning tongue thus utters,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The settler’s wife, like mother bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About her young ones flutters.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her first-born, rustling from a soft<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaf-couch, the roof close under,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glides down the ladder from the loft,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With eyes of dreamy wonder.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pioneer flings open wide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cabin door, naught fearing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grim woods drowse on every side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around the lonely clearing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Come in! come in! nor like an owl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus hoot your doleful humors;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What fiend possesses you, to howl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such crazy, coward rumors?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The herald strode into the room;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That moment, through the ashes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The back-log struggled into bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of gold and crimson flashes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The glimmer lighted up a face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And o’er a figure dartled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So eerie, of so solemn grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bluff backwoodsman startled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The brow was gathered to a frown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The eyes were strangely glowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, like a snow-fall drifting down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stormy beard went flowing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tattered cloak that round him clung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had warred with foulest weather;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across his shoulders broad were flung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brown saddlebags of leather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One pouch with hoarded seed was packed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From Pennland cider-presses;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The other garnered book and tract<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within its creased recesses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A glance disdainful and austere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Contemptuous of danger,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cast he upon the pioneer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then spake the uncouth stranger:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Heed what the Lord’s anointed saith;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hear one who would deliver<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your bodies and your souls from death;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">List ye to John the Giver.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Thou trustful boy, in spirit wise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond thy father’s measure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because of thy believing eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I share with thee my treasure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Of precious seed this handful take;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take next this Bible Holy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In good soil sow both gifts, for sake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Him, the meek and lowly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Farewell! I go!—the forest calls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My life to ceaseless labors;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherever danger’s shadow falls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fly to save my neighbors.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I save; I neither curse nor slay;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am a voice that crieth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In night and wilderness. Away!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whoever doubteth, dieth!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The prophet vanished in the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like some fleet ghost belated;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, awe-struck, fled with panic fright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The household, evil-fated.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They hurried on with stumbling feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Foreboding ambuscado;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bewildered hope told of retreat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In frontier palisado.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ere a mile of tangled maze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their bleeding hands had broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their home-roof set the dark ablaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fulfilling doom forespoken.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The savage death-whoop rent the air!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A howl of rage infernal!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fugitives were in Thy care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Almighty Power eternal!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unscathed by tomahawk or knife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In bosky dingle nested,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hunted pioneer, with wife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And babes, hid unmolested.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lad, when age his locks of gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had changed to silver glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Told grandchildren, as I have told,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This western wildwood story.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Told how the fertile seeds had grown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To famous trees, and thriven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oft the Sacred Book was shown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By that weird Pilgrim given.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Remember Johnny Appleseed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All ye who love the apple;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He served his kind by Word and Deed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In God’s grand greenwood chapel.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WENDING_WESTWARD" id="WENDING_WESTWARD"></a>WENDING WESTWARD.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">A new star rose in Freedom’s sky<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A hundred years ago;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It gleamed on Labor’s wistful eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With bright magnetic glow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope and Courage whispered, Go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye who toil and ye who wait!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Open swings the People’s gate!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the mountains and under the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Wonderful West your Canaan lies:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the banks of the Beautiful River,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By the shores of the Lakes of the North,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There fortune to each will deliver<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His share of the teeming earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Jocund voices called from the dark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hesperian solitude, saying, Hark!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Harken, ye people! come from the East,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come from the marge of the ocean, come!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here in the Wilderness spread a feast;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This is the poor man’s welcome home.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Hither with axe and plow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Carry the stripes and stars!)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come with the faith and the vow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of patriots wearing your scars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like trophies, upon the victorious breast,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Noblemen! wend to the West!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Load your rude wagon with your scanty goods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And drive to the plentiful woods;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your wheels as they rumble shall scare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fleet-footed deer from the road,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waken the sulky brown bear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In his long unmolested abode;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Redman shall gaze in dumb fear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the wain of the strange pioneer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His barbarous eyes vainly spell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The capital letters which tell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the White-foot is bound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the good hunting-ground<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the buffaloes dwell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To the Ohio Country, move on!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring your brain and your brawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Some books of the best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pack into the chest!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring your wives and your sons,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your maidens and lisping ones;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your trust in God bring;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Choose a spot by a spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And build you a castle—a throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A palace of logs—but your own!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Happy the new-born child<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nursed in the greenwood wild;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though his cradle be only a trough,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Account him well off;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For born to the purple is he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The proud royal robe of the Free!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the latest time is the best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the happiest place is the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where man shall establish anew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Things excellent, beautiful, true!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_TEACHERS_DREAM" id="THE_TEACHERS_DREAM"></a>THE TEACHER’S DREAM.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE weary teacher sat alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While twilight gathered on:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And not a sound was heard around,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The boys and girls were gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The weary teacher sat alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unnerved and pale was he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bowed by a yoke of care he spoke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sad soliloquy:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Another round, another round<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of labor thrown away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another chain of toil and pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dragged through a tedious day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Of no avail is constant zeal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s sacrifice is loss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hopes of morn, so golden, turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each evening, into dross.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I squander on a barren field<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My strength, my life, my all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The seeds I sow will never grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They perish where they fall.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He sighed, and low upon his hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His aching brow he prest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a spell upon him fell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A soothing sense of rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere long he lifted drowsy eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, on his startled view,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The room by strange and sudden change<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To vast proportions grew!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It seemed a senate house, and one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Addressed a listening throng;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each burning word all bosoms stirred,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Applause rose loud and long.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wildered teacher thought he knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The speaker’s voice and look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And for his name,” said he, “the same<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is in my record-book.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The stately congress hall dissolved,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A church rose in its place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein there stood a man of God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dispensing words of grace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though he heard the solemn voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And saw the beard of gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The teacher’s thought was strangely wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“My yearning heart to-day<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Wept for this youth whose wayward will<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against persuasion strove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Compelling force, love’s last resource,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To stablish laws of love.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The church, a phantasm, vanished soon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What shadowy picture then?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In classic gloom of alcoved room<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An author plied his pen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“My idlest lad!” the master said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Filled with a new surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Shall I behold <i>his</i> name enrolled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the great and wise?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The vision of a cottage home<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was now through tears descried:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mother’s face illumed the place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her influence sanctified.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A miracle! a miracle!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This matron well I know!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was a wild and careless child<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not half an hour ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Now, when she to her children speaks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of duty’s golden rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her lips repeat, in accents sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My words to her at school.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dim on the teacher’s brain returned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The humble school-room old;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the wall did darkness fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The evening air was cold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A dream!” the sleeper, waking, said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then paced along the floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, whistling low and soft and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He locked the school-house door.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His musing heart was reconciled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To love’s divine delays:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The bread forth cast returns at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lo, after many days!”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BY_THEIR_FRUITS" id="BY_THEIR_FRUITS"></a>BY THEIR FRUITS.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>BOVE the clash of counter creeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These gospel accents swell:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whoever doeth righteous deeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath read his Bible well.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like fragrant blooms of lavish spring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are adoration’s vows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tree that pleases God will bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair fruitage on its boughs.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PESTALOZZI" id="PESTALOZZI"></a>PESTALOZZI.</h2> - -<p class="c">For the 150th anniversary of the birthday of Pestalozzi, celebrated in -Cincinnati, January 13, 1896.</p> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HROUGH vasty shades of savage Occident<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Ohio groped what time the man I sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Took first quick draught of that free element<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thrills Swiss life, and felt the quivering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Alpine light which welcomed him to earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In Zurich then was born—sublime event—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man-child in whose soul new gospels waited birth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The world is ever plastic in the hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of humble saviours fearless of the cross:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One self-forgetting hero may command<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mould the future, scorning present loss:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meek Pestalozzi, herding in his mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Helvetia’s strayling little children, planned<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By their salvation surely to redeem mankind.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Much hope, more love possessed him, but most grief;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His heart, a mourner, sobbed o’er common woe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did the Almighty slumber or seem deaf<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wails ascending from His poor below?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, Heaven remembers every bitter tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet mundane ills must seek on earth relief;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, the Divine hath found a human volunteer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By sad Lucern arose the children’s cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shelterless, the poor, the innocent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The man of Zurich spake: “They must not die:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">War cast them out, but I by Peace am sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To father them and mother them and feed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their bodies and their spirits; need have I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None other than to share their utmost dolorous need.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Oh, better never to be born at all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than live forlorn, the victim of neglect!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fall from brotherhood is lowest fall.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lift up the low! bid man’s soul stand erect!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Education found the Church and State.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I send through Europe my imploring call:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Millennial blessings round the Kindergarten wait!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Unfold what is within! Develop! Make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full, fragrant efflorescence of the soul!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let bloom the brain and call the heart awake!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nothing repress; expand the being, whole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Complete and perfect under nature’s awe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our dear Schoolmistress.” Thus prophetic spake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice of faith, forecharged with evolution’s law.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus the reformer’s zealous wisdom taught:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus, sometime, plead with Bonaparte austere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, scorning prophecy in soaring thought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of self, flung answer with a royal sneer:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“We can’t be troubled with the A-B-C!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vain Emperor! the sword with which he fought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made slaves which battling alphabets set free.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The culture-captain had his marshals, too,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ritter and Froebel and a legion more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They proselyted nations, old and new,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They set their banners fair on every shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A million teachers follow in the way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The martyr opened to the good and true;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our children bask in beam of Pestalozzi’s day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He deemed his lavish life of no avail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dim was his prospect of the Promised Land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But even then when faith and hope did fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The seed, wide scattered from his weary hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was springing, waving, bursting into flower;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For grain of truth is waft on every gale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sinks in every soil its root of deathless power.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He fell in conflict, but the field was won;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">First Democrat of Culture! Thinker brave!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail, Switzerland, proud mother of such son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heap laurel garlands on his honored grave!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In flowers hide its consecrated sod!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time writes his shining epitaph: “Well done!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Science vindicates his confidence in God.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THERE_IS_NO_CASTE_IN_BLOOD" id="THERE_IS_NO_CASTE_IN_BLOOD"></a>“THERE IS NO CASTE IN BLOOD.”</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span>N Gunga’s vale is heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Siddhartha’s sacred word;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrill, heart of Hindustan!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good tidings! Man is <i>Man</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Sudra’s eyes grow dim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With tears, for unto him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus spake Siddhartha good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“There is no caste in blood.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take comfort, humble soul!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ages hopeward roll;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time grows compassionate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art not doomed by Fate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Religion shall prevail;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail! blessed Buddha! hail!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proclaim thy message good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“There is no caste in blood.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye plains of Ind, rejoice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Love’s sweet-sounding voice!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye heights of Himalay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleam bright for joy to-day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The truth to Buddha sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New lights the Orient,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presaging all men good:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“There is no caste in blood.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="VIVA_LA_GUERRA" id="VIVA_LA_GUERRA"></a>VIVA LA GUERRA.<br /><br /> -<small>April 23, 1898.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">V</span>IVA la Guerra!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That is Spain’s cry;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This our reply:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Viva la Guerra!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Saber clash saber!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scath visit scath!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrath answer wrath!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saber clash saber.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Army front army!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">People or crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which shall go down?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Army face army.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Navy meet navy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strong versus strong;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Right against wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Navy dares navy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cannon to cannon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Powder and ball!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God over all!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cannon to cannon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Viva la Guerra!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mars against Thor!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beautiful War!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Viva la Guerra!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BATTLE_CRY" id="BATTLE_CRY"></a>BATTLE CRY.<br /><br /> -<small>May 1, 1898.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE loud drums are rolling, the mad trumpets blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To battle! the war is begun and we go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To humble the pride of an arrogant foe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>The ensign and standard which wave for the Crown</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of Castile and Aragon—trample them down!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Granada and Leon and haughty Navarre</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Shall lower their banner to Cuba’s lone star!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now under Old Glory, the Blue and the Gray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">United march shoulder to shoulder away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To meet the Hidalgos in furious fray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With musket and haversack ready are we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tramp the globe over, to sweep every sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From isles of dead Philip to Florida’s Key.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We think of the Maine and our hot bosoms swell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With rage of love’s sorrow, which vengeance must quell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then we are ready to storm gates of Hell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our flag streams aloft by the tempest unfurled!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We strike for a Continent;—nay, for the World!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mene, Tekel, Upharsin! the thunder is hurled!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>The ensign and standard which wave for the Crown</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Of Castile and Aragon—trample them down!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Granada and Leon and haughty Navarre</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Shall lower their banner to Cuba’s lone star!</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EL_EMPLAZADO" id="EL_EMPLAZADO"></a>EL EMPLAZADO.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">E</span>L Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spain whom the nations denounce and abhor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robe thy dismay in the black sanbenito,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come to the frowning tribunal of war.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Curst were thy minions, their roster and scutcheon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alvas, Alfonsos, archarchons of hate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pillared on bigotry, pride, and extortion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Topples to ruin thy mansion of state.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Violence, Cruelty, Intrigue, and Treason,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These the false courtiers who flattered thy throne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Empires, thy sisters, forbode thee disaster,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even thy children their mother disown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Suppliant Cuba, thy daughter forsaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Famished and bleeding and buffeted sore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ghastly from gashes and stabs of thy rancor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Binds up her wounds at an alien door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Courts and corregidors erst at thy bidding<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Banished or butchered Moresco and Jew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ghosts from all Christendom, shades of the Martyrs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flock from the sepulcher thee to pursue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wrath of retributive justice o’ertakes thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brand of time’s malison blisters thy brow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Armed cabelleros and crowned kings of Bourbon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All are unable to succor thee now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">El Emplazado, the Summoned, the Doomed One!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God’s Inquisition condemns thee today!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth-shaking cannon-bolts thunder thy sentence,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaven re-echoes the auto de fe.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_88" id="page_88">{88}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="NATIONAL_SONG" id="NATIONAL_SONG"></a>NATIONAL SONG.<br /><br /> -<small>Dedicated to the Business Men’s Club of Cincinnati, May 13, 1903.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span>MERICA, my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy spacious grandeurs rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faming the proudest zone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pavilioned by the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Day’s flying glory breaks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy vales and mountains o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gilds thy streams and lakes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From ocean shore to shore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Praised be thy wood and wold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy corn and wine and flocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The yellow blood of gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drained from thy cañon rocks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy trains that shake the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy ships that plow the main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Triumphant cities grand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roaring with noise of gain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_89" id="page_89">{89}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth’s races look to Thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The peoples of the world<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy risen splendors see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thy wide flag unfurled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sons, in peace or war,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That emblem who behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bless every shining star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cheer every streaming fold!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Float high, O gallant flag,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er Carib Isles of palm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er bleak Alaskan crag,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er far-off lone Guam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Mauna Loa pours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Black thunder from the deeps;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er Mindanao’s shores,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er Luzon’s coral steeps.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Float high, and be the sign<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of love and brotherhood,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pledge, by right divine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Power, to do good;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For aye and everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On continent and wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Armipotent to dare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Imperial to save!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RIGHT_OF_MIGHT" id="RIGHT_OF_MIGHT"></a>RIGHT OF MIGHT.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span> DO enlist me in the cause of man,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The old, dear cause of liberty for all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hope of history since bards began<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sing inspired heroic battle-call.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The precious purchase of ten thousand years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The slow-won gains hard held at awful cost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of toil and thought and grief and blood and tears—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall these be stolen from the world, and lost?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">These to retain, must force, perforce, alas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lift up her banners and her thunders hurl:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, when the reign of cruelty shall pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dare Charity her fighting ensign furl.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where rings no song for freedom, none are free;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where gleams no sword for justice, justice dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where gates of hell prevail, then must it be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Powers of Darkness storm the very skies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Prince of Gentleness, did He not bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A brand, lest violence on earth prevail?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He preached, He prayed. And poets needs must sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">War against wrong, or Christ himself must fail.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JAMES_E_MURDOCH" id="JAMES_E_MURDOCH"></a>JAMES E. MURDOCH.<br /><br /> -<small>On His Eightieth Birthday.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">F</span>OUR-score! That gallant stripling? No!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That passion-breathing Romeo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who climbed, last night, the garden wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mocked by Mercutio’s madcap call!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Four-score? What, he? Charles Surface? Nay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is as young as blooming May;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You do but jest; I know him well—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who can forget wild Mirabel?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whatever the costume, forsooth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The same inimitable youth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marked you the sables Hamlet wore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark-plumed, in moonlit Elsinore?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gray locks? Believe the joke who can!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They “make him up” to play “old man”;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pluck off the wig! Crow’s feet erase!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And recognize wag Murdoch’s face!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay;—sober Time his card holds high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, swearing figures will not lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adds up the years and proves the date:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, in the ten’s place, here, an eight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So be it; Chronos, go thy ways;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our friend grows old and full of days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His frame may bend to Time’s control,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Time is servant to his soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His drama on the world’s wide stage,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now in the last calm scene, old age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has been throughout legitimate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In motive true, performance great.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whoever thus fulfils his part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Achieves the uttermost of art;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who thus the scene of life has trod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleases the Manager—his God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or soon or late, <i>exeunt</i> all—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bell will ring, the curtain fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we, the actors, put away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The masking garments of the play.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When we from off the boards have passed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every light is out at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll leave the theater and go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where real life replaces show.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Play out the play! and be content<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wait for that supreme event;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear Murdoch! master, father, friend,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Star on! still bright’ning to the end!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">{95}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_CONCORD_SEER" id="THE_CONCORD_SEER"></a>THE CONCORD SEER.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Transcendentalist—he now transcends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cloud of death to join exalted friends.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Saadi of the West, the Saint, the Sage,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The north-sprung Plato of an un-Greek age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath changed his habitation, and his ghost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Takes note authentic of the unknown coast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, joy serene! there doth he recognize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Congenial souls foreknown “polite and wise”:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two bards were first to hail his risen wraith,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One sang the Psalm of Life, one that of Death;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then mystic Hawthorne took his willing hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Vergil Dante’s in the Shadow Land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now haply doth his converse reconcile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Momentous discords with redeemed Carlyle;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps in Soul’s consortable domain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He meets the shade of erudite Montaigne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or German-Grecian Goethe shows the way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Fields Elysian where the Ancients stray;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">{96}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By some celestial brook of lucent flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where plane-trees with immortal verdure grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May sit, discoursing calm philosophies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Concord Seer, with argute Socrates.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">{97}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_POET_OF_CLOVERNOOK" id="THE_POET_OF_CLOVERNOOK"></a>THE POET OF CLOVERNOOK.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">R</span>EAD at the Celebration of Alice Cary’s birthday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">to the children of the Public Schools of<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cincinnati, April 26, 1880.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">A</span> POET born, not made,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By Nature taught, she knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, knowing, still obeyed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Beautiful, the True.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hers was the seeing eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sympathetic heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The subtle art whereby<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lone genius summons art.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She caught the primal charm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of every rural scene,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of river, cottage, farm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blue sky, and woodland green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Baptized in Sorrow’s stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She sang, how sweetly well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of true Love’s tender dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Death’s pale asphodel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">{98}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her pensive muse has fled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From hill and meadow-brook;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more her footsteps tread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy paths, fair Clovernook.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No more may she behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dew-crowned Summer morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On wings of sunrise gold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fly o’er the bending corn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No more her mournful gaze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall seek the twilight sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When parting Autumn days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flush hectic ere they die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor note of joyous bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor April’s fragrant breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor tear, nor loving word,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May break the spell of Death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep on! and take thy rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In Greenwood by the sea!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear Poet of the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy West remembers thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">{99}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_GREENFIELD_WIZARD" id="THE_GREENFIELD_WIZARD"></a>THE GREENFIELD WIZARD.<br /><br /> -<small>(J. W. R.)</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>WO things there are in heaven above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And earth below—the greater, Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lesser, Death—and therefor grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart’s-ease and rosemary and rue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And myrrh and moly, magic plants;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These, and a common rose or two<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Besprent with Indiana dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My wizard gathers from their haunts;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Distils the balmy, subtle juice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make a spell of potent use;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filters a seeming simple wine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nectared with some drops most rare—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(How he finds the tinct or where,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not the critics can divine!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whoso gives the wine his lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sipping smiles, and laughing sips;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, before he drinks it up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tears have trickled in the cup.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">{100}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BAIRD_OF_RIDGEVILLE" id="WILLIAM_BAIRD_OF_RIDGEVILLE"></a>WILLIAM BAIRD OF RIDGEVILLE.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">N</span>OW who is the delightfulest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old soldier that shakes hands with you?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The genial host, the welcome guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The teeming brain, the bosom true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul of song and merry jest?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The prince of all good fellows, who?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Why, William Baird of Ridgeville!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whenever meets the G. A. R.,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through rain or dust he hies to town;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gladdens the excursion car,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, as his regiment tramps down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gala street, you hear afar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The marching measure, “Old John Brown,”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From William Baird of Ridgeville.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then all the casements open wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A thousand flags are shaken free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The balconies on either side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are loud with shouts of jubilee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thrilling maidens wave with pride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their kerchiefs, laughing, crying: “See!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s William Baird of Ridgeville!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">{101}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All children feel his gracious charm,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of gentle birth, or sprung of churls;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From hut and mansion, street and farm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Troop eager round him lads and girls;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The baby leaves its mother’s arm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To ride the shoulder, pull the curls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of William Baird of Ridgeville.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fools in flock from William fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like fluttered sparrows from a hawk;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The women hover warmly nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like bees around a lily-stalk,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enchanted by the sparkling eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And by the spiced and nectared talk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of William Baird of Ridgeville.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet Bill is not a ladies’ man;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He consorts with “the boys”;—he jokes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This front-faced, sturdy veteran—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With common and uncommon folks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’s not the least a Puritan:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes he drinks, and daily smokes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His briar-pipe, at Ridgeville.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">{102}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wit’s gold is minted in his brain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And glitters from his lavish tongue:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gravest deacon frowns in vain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To quench the laughter; old and young<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Report the brilliant quips that rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like scattered pearls at random flung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By William Baird of Ridgeville.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No wight can counterfeit or steal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What unpremeditated art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gives him to improvise, to feel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To waken in the answering heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What they from learning’s pride conceal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Muses uninvoked impart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To William Baird of Ridgeville.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An unambitious soul hath Bill;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The man is modest as a maid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down at the foot of fortune’s hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His genius bides in calm and shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He reads his Shakespeare, dreams his fill;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A scythe he swings or plies a spade,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bold Captain Baird of Ridgeville.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">{103}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor wife nor child his arms enfold;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No, no—he is a bachelor;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, in his bosom aches an old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep wound which antedates the war;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He mourns—so is the secret told—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His dear, dead sweetheart, Eleanor;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">True William Baird of Ridgeville.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bill’s time must come some day, to die!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then like a soldier he’ll be found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor fear the bullet’s whizzing cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor dread the final trumpet’s sound.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I be breathing then, may I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be with him on that battleground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To kiss his lips and say good-bye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To William Baird of Ridgeville.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">{104}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LETS_SHAKE" id="LETS_SHAKE"></a>LET’S SHAKE.<br /><br /> -<small>Impromptu.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU thought you would take me, you say, by surprise!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You rascal! I knew you the moment my eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lit on your old phiz, and I couldn’t mistake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your voice nor your motions. How are you?<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Let’s shake!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Train late? But you got here? Now why did you wire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me not to expect you, you measureless liar?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come up to my den, and by jolly! we’ll make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A night of it—where is your luggage?<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Let’s shake!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say, how have you been? Let me look in your face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you won, have you lost, in the strenuous race?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you knocked the persimmons and taken the cake?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No? Here’s a small wallet—we’ll share it—<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Let’s shake!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">{105}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You may bank on my heart,—it is truer than gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hot, hotter it grows as the world waxes cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through flood and through flame I would go for your sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s so, Bill, you grizzly old humbug,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Let’s shake!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You’re married, I dare say, or leastwise, in love?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak out, for you know we are like hand and glove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I used to think you and Belle Esmond would wed;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, yes, as I wrote you, the baby is dead;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feared for awhile that my wife’s heart must break;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your hand, dear old comrade—don’t mind me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Let’s shake!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God bless you! I’m awfully glad you are here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You must not make fun of this womanish tear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He was only a baby, scarce two Aprils old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, William, I tell you they do get a hold<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">{106}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the heartstrings, these babies, and, since ours went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, somehow or other, we’re not quite content<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With this planet;—but when all our miseries here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are over, I hope we may strike a new sphere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up yonder, where hearts never hunger nor ache;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You’ll get there, I reckon, if I do?<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Let’s shake!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">{107}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_WELCOME_TO_BOZ" id="A_WELCOME_TO_BOZ"></a>A WELCOME TO BOZ.<br /><br /> -<small>Impromptu.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">I</span>N immortal Weller’s name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Micawber’s deathless fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the flogging wreaked on Squeers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Job Trotter’s fluent tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the beadle Bumble’s fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At the hands of vixen mate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the famous Pickwick Club,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the dream of Gabriel Grubb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the name of Snodgrass’ muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tupman’s amorous interviews,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winkle’s ludicrous mishaps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fat boy’s countless naps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Ben Allen and Bob Sawyer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Miss Sally Brass, the lawyer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the name of Newman Noggs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">River Thames and London fogs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Richard Swiveller’s excess,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Feasting with the Marchioness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Jack Bunsby’s oracles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the chime of Christmas bells,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">{108}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the cricket on the hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scrooge’s frown and Crotchit’s mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By spread tables and good cheer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wayside inns and pots of beer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hostess plump and jolly host,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coaches for the country post,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chambermaid in love with Boots,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toodles, Traddles, Tapley, Toots,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jarley, Varden, Mister Dick,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Susan Nipper, Mistress Chick,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Snevellicci, Lilyvick,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mantalini’s predilections<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To transfer his “dem” affections,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Podsnap, Pecksniff, Chuzzlewit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quilp and Simon Tappertit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weg and Boffin, Smike and Paul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nell and Jenny Wren and all,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be not Sairy Gamp forgot,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, nor Peggotty and Trot,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By poor Barnaby and Grip,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dora, Flora, Di and Gip,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perrybingle, Pinch and Pip—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Welcome, long-expected guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Welcome, Dickens, to the West.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">1867.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">{109}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_BOOK_AUCTION" id="THE_BOOK_AUCTION"></a>THE BOOK AUCTION.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">“H</span>OW much am I bid?” said the spry auctioneer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“For the lays of a well-known bard?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bard, incog, who was hovering near,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glanced up, and his breath came hard.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“I am offered a dime! Just think of it, gents!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For these ‘Songs of the Dewy Dawn’!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are you all done bidding? Ten! ten cents—<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Ten cents—and—going—and—gone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“You don’t know elegant books from trash!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joked the jubilant auctioneer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dubious author bit his mustache,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And felt confoundedly queer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“A beautiful copy of Shakespeare’s pomes!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How much am I bid? Look alive!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A right nice work to embellish your homes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Five cents! Sold to cash, for five!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">{110}</a></span>”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The incog singer twinkled his eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And inwardly said with a thrill:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“American poetry doesn’t sell high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I’d hate to go cheap as old Bill.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">{111}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_GIFT_ACKNOWLEDGED" id="A_GIFT_ACKNOWLEDGED"></a>A GIFT ACKNOWLEDGED.<br /><br /> -<small>February 19, 1881.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR Winter gift of bud and bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Took nature by surprise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas sudden Summer in my room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And April in my eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The kindly mist a moment stole<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flowers from my view,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lo! they blossomed in my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where love their fragrance knew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair embassy! their smiles I greet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Camellia, pink and rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I understand the message sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their gentle hearts enclose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their winsome beauty gladdens me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With this immortal truth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No age can quite unhappy be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That still remembers youth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">{112}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear boys! companions! friends sincere!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More warm and true than men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thank you most because my tear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made me a boy again.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">{113}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_OLD_HOMESTEAD" id="THE_OLD_HOMESTEAD"></a>THE OLD HOMESTEAD.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">E</span>NSHRINED among roses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Homestead reposes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With vines mantled o’er;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ground-ivy and clover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are running all over<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stone at the door.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pinks, lilies, are blowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue violets showing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gold hearts to the June;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bees going and coming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keep evermore humming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their Hyblean tune.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas here that I wasted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth’s flower and tasted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s first honey-dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A boy here I slumbered,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By care unencumbered,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long, balmy nights through.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">{114}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wood-birds each morning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave musical warning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For shadows to fly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their rhapsody choral<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foretold the auroral<br /></span> -<span class="i2">First flush of the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With rising emotion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Akin to devotion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The scene I behold;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With fond recollections<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tender affections<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too sweet to be told.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">{115}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JENNIE_MOORE" id="JENNIE_MOORE"></a>JENNIE MOORE.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE morning air is richly rife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With southern soft perfumes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yon orchard glows with sudden blush<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of mingled buds and blooms;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The madrigals of wooing birds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awaken amorous Spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And “Jennie Moore, sweet Jennie Moore”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is all the song they sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glad Yalobusha’s rippling waves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Repeat the darling name;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The zephyr lost among the pines<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dies murmuring the same;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the hush of twilight steals<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the dreamy shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blissful silence to my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Keeps singing “Jennie Moore.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">{116}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ASHES" id="ASHES"></a>ASHES.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HE fire of love is dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No spark of living red<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cold, gray ashes show.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be still! thy sighing breath—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can it requicken death?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, hope not, dream not so.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ah, no, no, no!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">{117}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="POSY" id="POSY"></a>POSY.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">L</span>AURA is the first to seek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rime of March in wildwood bleak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First to mourn the aster’s death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Withered by November’s breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every glade and glen she knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the coy spring-beauty grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Searches sunny slope and dell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the pearl or golden bell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the quivering addertongue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the wandering zephyr swung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She and April, comrades boon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail the early-crowned puccoon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dingle lone she sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tremulous anemones;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the breast of June she takes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Columbines and plumy brakes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a daisy she’ll forget,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the humblest violet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">{118}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lilies proud, on stately stalks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bow to greet her where she walks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roses to her pathway lean,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Queens saluting lovelier queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Emulous to win her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rivals for self-sacrifice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blesséd they whom she shall choose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though their fragrant lives they lose!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joyful the elected flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which may triumph one brief hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mingled with the clustered few,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Musical in form and hue!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus sweet notes that singly please<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Join in chordant melodies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So do gathered fancies twine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Graceful in the rhythmic line;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a perfect lyric lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laura’s exquisite bouquet.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">{119}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="A_SNOW_BIRD" id="A_SNOW_BIRD"></a>A SNOW BIRD.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">B</span>ESIDE the curbstone, in gusty whirl<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of dust and snow-drift, stood a little girl;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The piteous tears ran down her baby face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dumb despair she stood, nor moved a pace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her flying curls and fluttering short dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pathetic signals of forlorn distress;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her fondling hands, all purple with the cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto her breast a china doll did hold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“What is the matter, dear, why do you cry?”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her chill-cramped lips made dolefullest reply:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I am so cold, and I don’t know the way.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was the most her helplessness could say.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere long, before a laughing, ruddy flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She smiled through tears and shyly told her name;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I led the strayling to her mother’s door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in she flew,—I never saw her more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">{120}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet oftentimes, when Winter scoffs the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is my bosom’s guest, that timid one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She steals into my heart and sobbing stands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A naked doll in her caressing hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see her shiver and I hear her say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I am so cold, and I don’t know the way.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">{121}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_UPSET" id="THE_UPSET"></a>THE UPSET.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">E</span>NFORCED pursuit of silver eagles fleet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave early haste to my reluctant feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so it chanced I hurried—I and Care—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At sunrise down a city thoroughfare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But by the grace of some directing fay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I met a sight that gladdened me all day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw a beer-plump Saxon—Bacchus’ son—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His red, round face the symbol of slow fun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unconscious he of all ’twixt sky and earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Except one soul-engrossing cause of mirth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He dragged a painted sled, and, perched thereon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sat snug a three-years’ maiden, bright as dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And happy as the sparrows chirping round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crumb-hunting near her on the snowy ground.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sudden turn! a laughing cry, and lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sled upsets, and Mädchen prints the snow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She laughs; I laugh; loud ha-ha’s Bacchus’ son;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then gravely he,—“By yolly! dot vas fun.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">{122}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_SCHOOL_GIRL" id="THE_SCHOOL_GIRL"></a>THE SCHOOL GIRL.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM some sweet home the morning train<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brings to the city,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Five days a week, in sun or rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returning like a song’s refrain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A school girl pretty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A violet’s unaffected grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is dainty miss’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, in her shy, expressive face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The touch of urban arts I trace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And artifices.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No one but she and Heaven knows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of what she’s thinking;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It may be either books or beaux,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fine scholarship or stylish clothes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Per cents or prinking.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How happy must the household be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This morn who kissed her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not every one can make so free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sees her, inly wishes she<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were his own sister.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">{123}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How favored is the book she cons,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The slate she uses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hat she lightly doffs and dons,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The orient sunshade that she owns,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The desk she chooses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is she familiar with the wars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Julius Caesar?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do crucibles, and Leyden jars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Browning, and the moons of Mars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Euclid, please her?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She studies music, I opine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O day of knowledge!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And other mysteries divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of imitation or design,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Taught in the college.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A charm attends her everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sense of beauty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Care smiles to see her free of care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hard heart loves her unaware;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Age pays her duty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">{124}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her innocence is panoply,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her weakness, power;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth her guardian, and the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s every star is her ally,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every flower.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">{125}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THE_READERS" id="THE_READERS"></a>THE READERS.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">C</span>OME hither, my ten years’ maiden;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er what do you ponder so much?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I am reading in Tanglewood Stories,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tale of the Golden Touch.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! Hattie, my flax-haired darling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How buried in study you seem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I am reading in Tales from Shakespeare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Puck in Midsummer Night’s Dream.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there on the sofa is Mayo;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My laddie, what pleases you so?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“This picture and fable in Æsop,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See here,—of the Pitcher and Crow.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come hither, my dream-eyed baby,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You’re falling asleep on the floor!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I’m reading in Sing Song, papa,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wish you would read me some more.”<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">{126}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WAG" id="WAG"></a>WAG.<br /><br /> -<small>Obiit, February 7, 1878.</small></h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">H</span>E was only a dog, and a mongrel at that,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And worthless and troublesome, lazy and fat,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was Wag, who died yesterday night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet now that his barking forever is o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his caudal appendage can waggle no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His elegy I will indite.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas seldom authority mastered his will;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He always was noisy when bid to be still;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He slumbered while danger was near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He ran after chickens against all command;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When ordered to “sick” he would heedlessly stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His principal passion was fear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From morning till night he would dig in the ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To get at a rabbit, but, when it was found,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">{127}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">In terror he took to his heels;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But there was one duty he never did shun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From that naught could drive him, to that he would run:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wag never neglected his meals.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tax that I paid the police on his poll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dollar a year, I begrudged in my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Wag I thought dear at a cent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once, in my hardness, I gloomily said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“I wish that the no-account puppy were dead!”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now he <i>is</i> dead, I repent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wag came from Kentucky, a waif, bundled up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And packed in a basket, a charity pup,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In pity we warmed him and fed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The only return that his nature could give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For preserving his life, was serenely to live,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Content with his board and his bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was kind to the dogs upon Tusculum Hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He followed them all with fraternal good will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From coach dog to commonest cur;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He was grateful to <i>people</i> who treated him right,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for his young mistress he even would fight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But not lose his dinner for her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">{128}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I miss his black body curled up and asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I miss his contortions, his bark, and his leap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the sound of his gnawing at bones;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very same night that the Pope died at Rome,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor Wag, all alone, in the wash-house at home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yielded up his last shivering moans.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when to the children, next morning, I said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they sat at the table, “Yes, Wag—he is dead,”<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There was not a dry eye in the room;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Auntie began, with remorse, to recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How lately she’d driven deceased from the hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With scoldings and blows of a broom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now Wag is asleep near an apple-tree old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a dog-rose shall blossom above his dear mold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there shall a tablet be set;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For though but a dog, and a mongrel at that,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And worthless, and idle, and lazy, and fat,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poor Wag was <i>our</i> dog, and a pet.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">{129}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DONATELLO" id="DONATELLO"></a>DONATELLO.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HO will capture Donatello?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Roving cat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fierce, ungovernable fellow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Musical as Leporello,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sharp and flat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Terrible in a duello.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ragamuffin, have you met a<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Felis fat?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ancestored in gay Valetta,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where brown dames in black faldetta,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Walk and chat—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hot his blood as flame of Ætna.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beautiful, romantic, splendid<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Autocrat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the forest, unattended,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daring Donatello wended:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Owl and bat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weasel, mole, and mink, he rended.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">{130}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Savage wildwood his unbounded<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Habitat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By no man or mastiff hounded,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the midnight mirk surrounded—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Think of that!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft his caterwaul he sounded.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Freedom to the gallant fellow.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Exeat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Victor in each fierce duello,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Midnight, madcap Leporello!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Roving cat!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Graceless, graceful Donatello!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">{131}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GABRIEL_OF_SCHWARTZENWALD" id="GABRIEL_OF_SCHWARTZENWALD"></a>GABRIEL OF SCHWARTZENWALD.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">R</span>HYME, and ring the changes well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing the song of Gabriel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gabriel of Schwartzenwald.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo, a voice delusive called<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the Ohio’s crooked vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saying, “Sail and sail and sail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the sea and hither away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Westering to the Land of Play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy region of Do-as-you-please,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the guilders grow on trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the peasants all are kings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there be no underlings.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gabriel, the idle dreamer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heard the Utopian voice alluring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sought a sail-ship,—not a steamer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon the vessel leaves her mooring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Veers and tacks to Occident,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bears him o’er the crinkled sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never soul so indolent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lounged upon a deck as he.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">{132}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the vagrant breeze he glides<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over sun-lit, moon-lit tides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Skims to port and shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spins along the shining rail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleeps into Ohio’s vale,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wakes—the journey o’er.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not an idler Gabriel sees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a kreutzer on the trees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every bretzel must be bought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naught is proffered him for naught.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis the Region of Unrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Busy, toiling, moiling West!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All the peasant kings he found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Building houses, tilling ground.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gabriel of Schwartzenwald<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From his dream is disenthralled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Transatlantic, far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eastward looms the Land of Play.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like the lily, like the daisy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lolling Gabriel was lazy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clownish were his clumsy paces,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ludicrous his slow grimaces;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ill-defined the thoughts he spoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the wreathed tobacco smoke<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">{133}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">From his meerschaum upward shed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Curling round his shaggy head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little could he understand:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Vish I vas in Faderland,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nicht is goot for notings here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only shust das lager-bier.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Easily he wept or smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Easily was he beguiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rill-like, shallow, o’er his mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ran affections swift and kind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Secretly he shared his meat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a lame cur on the street;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Vonce I had a hund,” said he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Vat vas very freund to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ya, mein Herr, dat hund vas mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vish I heard him barkin’ here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vish I had a glass goot bier,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oder flash von German wein.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hard by Mineami Bayou,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the gadding breezes cool<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loiter up from the Ohio,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gabriel, at sink of sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throned upon a wooden stool,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fondled his accordion.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">{134}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the ragged urchins round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their brown-legged sisters, maybe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lugging each a flax-haired baby,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes, too, the weary mothers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, and I, and lingering others,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By sad, dulcet quaverings won,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gathered near to catch the sound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the hill the risen moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Paused to hear the mellow tune;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All too sadly, all too soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gabriel would cease to play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Light his pipe and puff away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Vas a Fräulein,”—mumbled he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Vish I vas to-night not hier;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not America for me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only shust das lager-bier.”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Play a waltz now, Gabriel!” “Nein,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rhine wein ist der beste wein.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gabriel did sigh and sadden<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the linden shades of Baden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the glooms of Schwartzenwald;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So a homesick brief he scrawled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his mother, her to tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he was not strong or well.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">{135}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Of the Fräulein wrote he not,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply Gabriel forgot.)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon the doting mother old,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Four-score were her years and three,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sent the lout a purse of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the summons—“Come to me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Komm zu mir, mein Sohn, geschwind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Komm zu mir, mein liebes Kind.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the Ohio’s crooked vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flying fast by rail and sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Home to Schwartzenwald away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eastward to the Land of Play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gabriel of Schwartzenwald<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Followed the mother-tongue that called<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the fatherland in tearful tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Komm, Gabriel, mein lieber Sohn!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Followed the mother-voice and the call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the nameless Fräulein, short or tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the coaxing lisp of the linden leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bark of a dog forlorn that grieves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For an absent master; the gurgle, too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of bottled grape-juice and foamy brew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the tweedle-dee of the fiddle gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That leads to the dance on a holiday;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Followed his dreams and his memories,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">{136}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whirled with the sleeping speed of wheels,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flew on the eager wings of the breeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doubting of naught that his foolish heart feels,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure that the country of Do-as-you-please,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If any such ever is found upon earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the home of our mother, the land of our birth.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">{137}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="COFFEA_ARABICA" id="COFFEA_ARABICA"></a>COFFEA ARABICA.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">M</span>ORE entrancing than aroma<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the Hindu sacred soma,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Comes a fragrant<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Essence vagrant<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Floating up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From my quaint Zumpango cup,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Incense rare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Evanescent steam ascending,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Curling, wavering, fading, blending,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vanishing in viewless air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me sip and dream and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Musing many an idle thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me sing and dream and sip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making many an fancied trip<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far away and far away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over ocean, gulf and bay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To islands whence the spicy wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathes languor on the tropic sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sultry strands of teeming Ind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To coasts of torrid Araby,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">{138}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To realms no Boreal breath may chill,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like rich Brazil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Jabal’s clouded hill on hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or warm Bulgosa’s valley low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To zones where Summer splendors glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where seasons never come or go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where coffee trees perpetual blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While I drowse and dream and sip,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sailing, sailing slides a ship<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the glittering sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Measuring leagues of night and day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bearing and bringing to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing from far away, away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pale green magical berry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The seed of the virtuous cherry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bean of the blossom divine!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bringing from over the brine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing from Demarara,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From balsamy San Pará,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing from Trans-Sahara,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From hoard of the Grand Bashaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or redolent chests of Menelek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An Abyssinian cargo<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Richer than freight of Argo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Treasured in garners under the deck,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_139" id="page_139">{139}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing and bearing for me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gift of the coffee tree!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better than blood of the Spanish vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ruddy or amber wine of the Rhine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bearing the bean of the blessed tree!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better than bousa or sake fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or sampan loads of oolong tea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Souchong, twankay, or bohea,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bringing the virtuous bean divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The coffee-tree cherry,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The magical berry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More entrancing than aroma<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the Hindu sacred soma.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_140" id="page_140">{140}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AN_INDIA_SHAWL" id="AN_INDIA_SHAWL"></a>AN INDIA SHAWL.</h2> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS dainty shawl an Eastern shuttle wove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Ravee stream winds sunward from Cashmere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By nimble gold ’twas borne around the sphere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one who gave it me in friendly love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rival nature’s hues the weaver strove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For beauty’s sake and not barbaric show;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold, commingled here, elusive glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brilliant, innocent dyes of field and grove.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This silk soft web was never merchandise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A charm of peerless art proclaims it rare,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sumptuous robe that Majesty would prize,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And India’s British Empress well might wear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis mine for thee within whose beaming eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see love’s India, O my queenly Fair!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">{141}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="APOLOGY" id="APOLOGY"></a>APOLOGY.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">F</span>ULL well my loyal heart remembers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vow of rapture’s lavish tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thee to smother grief’s Decembers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In joy’s June roses and make over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world;—how easily, fond lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Could I when life and hope were young.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When troth-plight had begemmed thy finger<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unhappiness should cease to be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No shape of care near thee should linger;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exultant, I, thy love to guerdon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would weep thy tears and bear thy burden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea, purchase thy Gethsemane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For thee should hemlock turn to honey,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy hand, unhurt, the thorn might hold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkness should light thee, and the sunny<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Celestial days, triumphal, singing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around the globe, should bless thee, bringing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Anew to earth the Age of Gold.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">{142}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy beauty and thy grace to glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would I inweave thy golden name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In shining weft of song and story;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would I, on love’s heroic mission,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ascend the sunned peak of ambition<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To pluck the Alpine flower, fame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O season of delirious passion!<br /></span> -<span class="i1">What knew or recked my spirit then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of deeds in less transcendent fashion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than youth’s high drama realizes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In visions, dreams, and enterprises,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lift to godhood mortal men!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Naught is impossible to Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor to the puissance of youth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Imagination’s quickening leaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Works in the pulsing brain and being<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till every sense hath second-seeing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all that should be true is truth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O glorious falsehood and illusion!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Call not the lover’s transports lies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The white light of his heart in fusion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes visible the far ideal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the low earth is unreal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Secure the lover walks the skies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">{143}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I trod with thee the starry spaces,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I told the only tale I knew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We dwelt in spirit, not in places,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, if the promises then spoken,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be witness, O my God!—were broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The promising was heavenly true.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">{144}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="UNRECONCILED" id="UNRECONCILED"></a>UNRECONCILED.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN winter’s loom of cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weaves robes of snow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wrap the hills in shroud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My meditations go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shuddering tempests blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above a little grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When spring’s pale wild-flowers wake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where sunbeams play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must not my full heart break?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Birds, blossoms, come with May,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would that, some happy day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My child could come again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When air-built cloud-fleets sail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blue summer’s sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And violets exhale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their fragrant souls and die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul lifts Rachel’s cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For, oh! the child is not.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">{145}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Most mournful time of all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is when the leaf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fades, withering to its fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ending its term so brief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like him, my joy, my grief,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lost in the senseless grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The new moons come and go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stars rise and set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time’s healing waters flow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across my wound, and yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grief cannot pay love’s debt;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s solace is to mourn.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">{146}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANNIVERSARY" id="ANNIVERSARY"></a>ANNIVERSARY.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS is your birthday, dearest? Dearest wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fond sweetheart of my youth and of my prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lover and friend and comrade, in whose life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I live unconscious of the flight of time!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Three-score? and must we grant it so? Why, then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thank Heaven we have tasted life thus long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For life is rich, and shall grow sweeter when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like mellowing wine age renders it less strong.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We shall grow old together, count the years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Welcome each sunrise and each setting sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Together laugh our laugh or weep our tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wait, act and suffer, till the sands be run.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I owned Golconda and the Coast of Pearl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Being a boy—it was but yesterday;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One shared my fortune, giving hers—one girl—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whither, my darling, fled youth’s dream away?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">{147}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where are the morning and the wealth of spring?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone with the air-built castle—vanished, gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dew of youth went sunward, and the wing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is broken now that soared at golden dawn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is too late for riches, land and gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too late to pluck the flaming rose of power;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hands have bled to gather what they hold—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Buds of dead hope—ambition’s phantom flower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet all I am I dedicate to you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As on our spousal morning, Love, and bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This heart-born offering to pledge anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In Autumn song, the promises of Spring.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">{148}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="AMAUROTE" id="AMAUROTE"></a>AMAUROTE.</h2> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="ig"><span class="letra">S</span>AFE in towery Amaurote<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Now I dwell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the tumbling sea my boat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a bell of foam afloat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up Anyder’s refluent stream<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Voyaged well;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I woke unto a dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Realized in realm remote<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of Utopia.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whiles my eudæmonian guide<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thrummed her lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Charmful o’er the billows wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the distance I espied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleam of opalescent dome,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Golden spire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then my soul foreknew its home<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far beyond the roaring tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In Utopia!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">{149}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All was sooth as poets old<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Gave renown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that seers and sages told,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fabling of an Age of Gold;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towery Amaurote was there,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Blissful town!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far away from everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flushed with rosy light, behold!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In Utopia.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Visioned splendor reared from naught<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Rose sublime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Art and Beauty thither brought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All Imagination taught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the mystery of Man<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And of Time;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wisdom, smiling on the plan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bade the wonderwork be wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In Utopia!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have I eaten of the lote<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So its spell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laps and lulls me to devote<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hours Lethean, far remote<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">{150}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the dreadful things that be?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nay, I dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where o’er dream-deeps Poesie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang me, in a foam-bell boat,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To Utopia.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> -<p class="fint">THE END</p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block;margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAGA OF THE OAK, AND OTHER POEMS ***</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This file should be named 64148-h.htm or 64148-h.zip</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0;'>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in https://www.gutenberg.org/6/4/1/4/64148/</div> -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block;margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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